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The Roman Church and papal authority, AD 476-

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The Roman Church and Papal Authority, AD 476-c.600

Peter Francis Harrington

Thesis submitted for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy

Birkbeck, University of London

1
2
ABSTRACT

This thesis examines two sixth-century texts, the first edition of the Liber Pontificalis and the
Collectio Avellana, and it analyses forms and patterns of patronage before and after 476 to
explain how the Roman Church was transformed and how expressions of authority were
formulated between 476 and c.600. It identifies the demise of the line of western Roman
emperors in 476 and imperial challenges to the Roman Church’s claim to define doctrine,
starting in 482, as catalysts for institutional change. The Church developed a number of
strategies to manage its position in the changed environment, including the compilation of the
two texts. The thesis differs from existing research in that it focuses on the Roman Church as
an institution and calls on insights of neo-institutional theory; further, it interprets the Collectio
Avellana as a late antique letter collection.

The thesis shows that after 476 different components of papal authority of came to the fore. It
shows that the editors of the Liber Pontificalis promoted the authority of the bishop of Rome on
the condition that he exercised it with the consent of the clergy. It demonstrates that the
Collectio Avellana, considered to date to lack a defining purpose, had three: to defend the
record of Pope Vigilius (537-55); to track and assert new expressions of papal authority; to
opine on Church-Empire relations. Both texts reveal the importance of the Church’s record of
orthodoxy and doctrinal primacy to its identity, and the compilers’ attempts to delineate its
relationship with secular rulers. The analysis of patronage demonstrates that the institution
gained in coherence as the bishop of Rome became its main donor, and that, from an early
stage, popes established its boundaries, and that they extended the patronal offering by
sponsoring new saints’ cults.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS Page Number

Abstract 3

1. CHAPTER 1: Introduction 7
1.1.1. Sources 9
1.1.2. The Institution of the Roman Church 10
1.1.3. Papal Authority 11
1.1.4. Historiography 17
1.1.5. Neo-Institutional Theory 22

2. CHAPTER 2: The Liber Pontificalis and Papal Authority 26

2.1. Introduction
2.1.1. The Liber Pontificalis: Manuscripts, Editions and Sources 26
2.1.2. Historiography 29
2.1.3. Argument and Methodology 33
2.2. Section 1: Promoting the Authority of the Bishop of Rome (Phase 1) 35
2.2.1. Decrees affecting the Roman Church (Ordinary Decrees) 36
2.2.2. The Organisation of the Church 37
2.2.3. The Attribution of Ordinary Decrees 38
2.2.4. Church Constructions 39
2.3. Section 2: Assertions of Doctrinal and Jurisdictional Primacy 41
2.3.1. Decrees De Ecclesia and De Omne Ecclesia 41
2.3.2. Doctrinal Primacy: Martyr Popes 45
2.3.3. Doctrinal Primacy: Finding Heretics 49
2.3.4. Doctrinal Primacy: Sedes Apostolica 50
2.3.5. St Peter: the Source of all Gospels and Vanquisher of Heresy 51
2.3.6. Jurisdictional Primacy 52
2.4. Section 3: A Clerical Agenda 53
2.4.1. Consensual Leadership 54
2.4.2. A Petrine Mandate for the Clergy 58
2.5. Section 4: Church-Secular Ruler Relations 60
2.5.1. Popes, Emperors and Ecumenical Councils 60
2.5.2. Imperial Patronage 61
2.5.3. Adjudicating Contested Papal Elections 62
2.6. Section 5: Writers and Audience 63
2.7. Conclusion 65

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3. CHAPTER 3: The Collectio Avellana, the Defence of a Pope, Papal Authority and the Re-
working of Church-Empire Relations 68
3.1.1. The Collectio Avellana: Manuscripts and Otto Günther’s Edition 69
3.1.2. Historiography 72
3.1.3. Late Antique Letter Collections 74
3.1.4. Argument and Methodology 75
3.2. Part 1: Preliminary Observations on the Structure and Organisation of the
Collectio Avellana 76
3.3. Part 2: A Defence of Pope Vigilius 80
3.3.1. The Parallel Cases of Pope Liberius and Pope Vigilius 80
3.3.2. An Implicit Defence of Pope Vigilius (Section 3) 83
3.3.3. Popes could change their Minds (Section 2) 86
3.4. Part 3: Primacy and Papal Authority 90
3.4.1. Pope Leo’s Tome and the Council of Chalcedon 90
3.4.2. Pope Felix III and the Interpolated Trisagion 92
3.4.3. Pope Gelasius I on Pelagianism 94
3.4.4. Jurisdictional Primacy: Control of the Communio 95
3.5. Part 4: Roman Church-Empire Relations 101
3.5.1. Imperial Interventions in defining Doctrine and Compliance 102
3.5.2. Contested Papal Elections 106
3.6. Part 5: The Compiler and his Readership 109
3.7. Conclusion 110

4. CHAPTER 4: The Roman Church and Patronage AD 476-604: The Transformation

of an Institution 113
4.1.1. The Institution of the Roman Church 114
4.1.2. Patronage 115
4.1.3. Sources 116
4.1.4. Historiography 116
4.1.5. Argument and Methodology 120
4.2. Section 1: Patronage of the Roman Church 312-476 121
4.2.1. Tables 121
4.2.2. Church Constructions 312-476 123
4.2.3. Decoration. Additions, Alterations and Repairs 312-476 124
4.2.4. Donations of Liturgical Furnishings and Vessels 312-476 124

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 4.2.5. Emperors as Patrons 125
4.2.6. Aristocratic Patrons 126
4.2.7. Popes as Patrons 129
4.2.8. Clerics as Patrons 131
4.3. Section 2: Patronage of the Roman Church after 476 133
4.3.1. Secular rulers as patrons after 476 133
4.3.2. Aristocrats as Patrons after 476 136
4.3.3. The Clergy as Patrons after 476 139
4.3.4. Papal Patronage 476-604 143
4.3.5. Saint-Cults: A New Form of Papal Patronage 149
4.4. Conclusion 156

5. CHAPTER 5: CONCLUSION 158

Appendix (Tables) 171

Abbreviations 210
Bibliography 211

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CHAPTER 1

Introduction

At the settlement of the Acacian schism in 519, Pope Hormisdas and the emperor Justin sought
to articulate the basis on which they were reaching an accord. The schism had resulted from the
emperor Zeno’s challenge to Church of Rome’s claim to define doctrine exclusively, when he
issued the Henotikon in 482. To settle or heal the schism eastern prelates had to sign a libellus,
acknowledging that the Roman Church had always preserved the Catholic religion unblemished
and promising to follow its decisions in all matters. Further, they had to remove the names of
some of the Church’s opponents from diptychs. This appears to have been an acceptance of the
Roman Church’s primacy on doctrine. The position was reversed in 553-54 when Pope Vigilius
(537-555), much against his will, accepted the condemnation of the Three Chapters, which the
emperor Justinian had engineered at the Second Council of Constantinople (553). The apparent
successful assertion of doctrinal primacy, followed by a major failure, fits with within the
narrative which sees the period 476-536 as one of independence that gave way to one of
precipitous decline and the ‘gathering gloom of Byzantine tyranny over the Church’.1 These
two significant moments in the history of the Church in the sixth century do not feature in the
other, more current, narrative which since the 1970s has sought to explain the rise of the
Roman Church to a position of dominance in Rome.

This thesis presents a different perspective to both narratives. It focuses on the Roman Church
as an institution in ways that exponents of neo-institutional theory would recognise. While
much that is written about the Roman Church touches on it as an institution, very little concerns
it qua institution. Against the first narrative, it shows that rather than ‘rise and fall’, there was
continuity and some creativity in the ways that the Church expressed its authority. It calls for a
very different understanding of papal authority in this period. The study addresses different
research questions to the second narrative but it uses the same sources as historians in that field,
and calls into question the degree to which some scholars emphasise the Church’s and popes’
adoption of imperial models of authority.

The thesis examines how the Roman Church was transformed as an institution in the period
476-c.600; how expressions of papal authority evolved over the same timeframe; and what, if
any, was the interaction between these two developments. I argue that these developments need
to be understood in the context of two major challenges that the Church faced at the onset of
the period. In 476, with the demise of the line of western emperors, it lost its main patrons and

1
Summarised by K. Sessa, ‘The Roman Church and its Bishops’ in J.J. Arnold, M.S. Bjornlie and K.
Sessa (eds.), A Companion to Ostrogothic Italy (Leiden, 2016), p. 425.

7
the main supporters of its leadership over other churches. With the loss of the western emperors
and their families as patrons, the Church also lost much of the support system that went with
being intimately connected with empire. The Arian kings, Odoacer (476-93) and Theoderic
(493-536), who ruled Central and Northern Italy on behalf of the eastern emperors, did not
patronise the Roman Church to any meaningful extent. Nor were aristocrats significant patrons
of the Church after 476. After Justinian reconquered the territory (536-54), neither he, nor his
successors, became patrons in the way that their predecessors had been. In responding to the
changing situations and environment, the Church had to develop new strategies. In charting the
strategies employed over the decades, this thesis shows that popes emerged as the main patrons,
attaining a new position, that they introduced a new form of patronage in saints’ cults, and that
a new internal financing arrangement helped to unify the Roman Church as an institution.

The second challenge has already been mentioned: Zeno’s Henotikon, the first of several
imperial measures in the period that challenged the bishop of Rome’s claimed prerogative to
define orthodox doctrine. Zeno issued the Henotikon after the Roman Church had started to
assert its leadership on matters of doctrine, and had achieved a notable success when the
Council of Chalcedon (451) accepted Pope Leo I’s Tome, which defined the person and nature
of Christ. The Henotikon was a statement of beliefs which sought to reconcile the positions of
the supporters and the opponents of the Council of Chalcedon. It made no reference to Leo and
Chalcedon and precipitated the Acacian schism, named after Archbishop Acacius of
Constantinople, who had drafted the statement and was the leading prelate excommunicated.
The schism was a major rupture between the Church of Rome and the patriarchal sees in the
East. In issuing the Henotikon, Zeno was responding to the complex political, religious and
ecclesiastical situation in the East, particularly the refusal of Miaphysites, who were based in
strategic provinces, to accept the Chalcedonian definition of Christ’s nature. As mentioned, the
Acacian schism was settled in 519 on terms favourable to the Roman Church. However, the
objections of miaphysites to Chalcedon did not go away. Justinian, first as adviser to his uncle,
Justin, then as emperor (527-65), sought the Roman Church’s acceptance of the theopaschite
formula (campaigning between 519 and 534), and subsequently its condemnation of the Three
Chapters (campaigning 532-53) in order to keep the miaphysites on board.2 Pope John II was to
accept the formula in 534; Pope Vigilius finally condemned the Three Chapters in 554, after

2
An additional example of this challenge was Justinian’s edict against Origen’s teaching and works in
543. The issue surfaced in Palestine and attracted Justinian’s attention and was to be condemned at the
Council of Constantinople in 533, but not in its ecumenical sessions. It only affected monks in Palestine
and did not have the ‘world-wide echo’ that the Three Chapters had. I omit this from consideration in the
thesis as it is not mentioned in the examined sources. See A. Grillmeier with T. Hainthaler, Christ in the
Christian Tradition: From the Council of Chalcedon (451) to Gregory the Great (590-604: The Church
of Constantinople in the Sixth Century, trans. by P. Allen and J. Cawte, vol. 2.2 (London, 1995), pp. 385-
410.

8
they had been formally condemned by the Second Council of Constantinople in 553. Although
acceptance of the formula was a defeat for the Church, it appears to have created few ripples
outside Rome. However, condemnation of the Three Chapters caused a major reaction in the
West: a council of the North African Church excommunicated Vigilius, the churches of Milan
and Aquileia separated from communion with Rome, the latter remaining in schism until 698.
The thesis tracks how the Church responded to these manifestations of the challenge on
doctrine, and it shows that the Church and its supporters sought to shore up its claim to
doctrinal primacy and that a new claim to jurisdictional primacy emerged during the Acacian
schism.

Sources

I examine the transformation of the institution and development in expressions of papal

authority primarily through analyses of two major texts, written or compiled by members of the
Roman Church, and through the prism of patronage. The first edition of the Liber Pontificalis
and the Collectio Avellana are key documents for a period which, other than the pontificate of
Gregory I and arguably that of Gelasius I, is not otherwise well provided with extant sources on
the Roman Church. The first edition of the Liber comprises serial biographies of popes from
the apostle Peter though to John II (533-35).3 The Collectio is a collation of some 244 letters
and other documents which date from 367 to 553, and were mostly written by or to popes, but
the authors also include emperors, magistrates, bishops, priests and synods.4 Both texts were
compiled in the period: the Liber in c.536, the Collectio probably sometime between 553 and
560. I consider that they inform on the periods 476-536 and 476-c.585 respectively.5 Both texts
have historical material, accounts of pontificates before 476 or letters written before that date,
which, I consider, the authors or compilers included to provide parallels with the later period,
or to support an argument or position they wished to make. Both texts were comprehensively
edited in the late nineteenth century, the Liber by Louis Duchesne (1886-92), the Collectio by
Otto Günther (1895-98). The Liber has received considerable attention from scholars, including
a recent important structural analysis of the first recension by Herman Geertman, which I
utilise. Until recently, the Collectio has attracted far less scholarly interest, probably
discouraged by Günther’s authoritative assessment that its purpose was to collate letters not

3
Liber Pontificalis, ed. L. Duchesne, Le Liber Pontificalis: Texte, introduction et commentaire, 2 vols
(Paris, 1886-92). English translation by R. Davis, The Book of the Pontiffs (Liber Pontificalis): The
Ancient Biographies of the First Ninety Bishops to AD 715, Translated Texts for Historians no. 6, 3 rd edn.
(Liverpool, 2010).
4
Collectio Avellana, O. Günther (ed.), Epistulae imperatorum pontificum aliorum inde ab a.CCCLXVII
usque ad a. DLIII datae Avellana quae dicitur collection, Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum
Latinorum, no. 35 (Vienna 1895-98).
5
In Chapter 3 I argue that the Collectio Avellana also provides information for the years 560-85, the
period during which the text may have been actively used.

9
recorded elsewhere. Recent interest includes a University of Perugia project which seeks to
place the Collectio as a sixth-century canonical collection.6

Patronage of the Roman Church also provided clues about its development as an institution
between 476 and c.600. As the analysis is based on a comparison of patrons and patterns of
giving before and after 476, it also covers the period 312-476. I have drawn the data from a
variety of sources, each of which is incomplete: textual, archaeological, artistic and epigraphic.
The Liber Pontificalis is the major textual source for patronage, even if it is a recognisably
partial one; other texts are the reports of Roman synods held in 499 and 595, whose
subscriptions of attendees reveal the existence of tituli (parish churches), and, in several cases,
are the only extant record of the church. For archaeological evidence, I rely heavily on the five-
volume Corpus Basilicarum Christianarum Romae which, even if dated, remains a
fundamental source for church building in Rome.7 I additionally look at fourth- and early fifth-
century elite Roman sarcophagi and several fifth- and sixth-century church mosaics. For
inscriptions I mainly use Giovanni Battista de Rossi’s Inscriptiones Christianae Urbis Romae,
the ten-volume new series of the same title edited by Angelo Silvagni and others, and
occasionally Ernst Diehl’s Inscriptiones Latinae Christianae Veteres.8 Inscriptions furnish
some information on acts of patronage as well showing the importance of certain basilicas and
cemeteries as burial locations of patrons. Through the analysis of this evidence I also identify
elements in the transformation of the Roman Church.

The Institution of The Roman Church

For the purpose of this study I define the Roman Church as the institution that was structured or
evolved to fulfil the pastoral and liturgical responsibilities of the bishop of Rome in the city,
and which was able to support his claims to a wider authority in the Christian Church.
Notwithstanding the pope’s different roles, I consider that there was an identifiable core
institution and that, as I suggest in Chapter 2, this definition reflects how the authors of the
Liber Pontificalis perceived the Roman Church. Its main personnel, apart from the bishop,
comprised priests of the tituli, deacons and sub-deacons based in the regions of the city, and

6
R. Lizzi Testa, opening speech, ‘Il Progetto umbro e i recenti studi sulla Collectio Avellana’, University
of Perugia conference on ‘La Collectio Avellana e le altre Collezioni canoniche di ambiente italico:
formazione, contenuti e contesti’, September 2016 (no longer available on the internet). Lizzi Testa
points to the need to compare the Collectio with contemporary canonical collections. See also, Lizzi
Testa, ‘La Collectio Avellana e le collezioni canoniche romane e italiche del V-VI secolo: un Progetto di
recerca’, Cristianesimo nella storia, 35 (1) (2014), pp. 77-107.
7
R. Krautheimer et al., Corpus Basilicarum Christianarum Romae, The Early Christian Basilicas of
Rome (IV to IX Centuries), Monumenti di antichità cristiana Series 2, no. 2, 5 vols. (Rome, 1937-77)
8
G.B. de Rossi (ed.), Inscriptiones Christianae Urbis Romae septimo saeculo antiquiores Vols. I-II.1
(1857-88); A. Silvagni, A Ferrua and D. Mazzolini (eds.), Inscriptiones Christianae Urbis Romae
septimo saeculo antiquiores nova series, 10 vols. (Rome, 1922-85); E. Diehl, Inscriptiones Latinae
Christianae Veteres, (Bonn, 1912).

10
notaries and defensores ecclesiae based at the Lateran episcopium. What may be considered the
Church’s buildings included the major Constantinian and other imperial basilicas (St Peter’s, St
Paul’s, St Laurence’s, the Basilica Constantiniana, S. Stephani in celio monte and others) over
which it had practical and liturgical control, important papal basilicas such as Julii and S.
Mariae, the twenty-five or so tituli (parish churches), cemeterial basilicas, cemeteries and
basilical monasteries (those which served and supported the major basilicas).9 I exclude from
consideration any organisational aspects of the bishop’s role as metropolitan of suburbicarian
Italy and his responsibility for papal patrimonies, except in so far as they have a bearing on his
position in Rome. I consider that extending the definition beyond this would blur the
boundaries of the institution and confuse the analysis.

I refer to the institution as ‘the Church of Rome’, rather than as ‘the Papacy’. John Moorhead
declines to use the term ‘papacy’ as it implies a more developed institution than existed in Late
Antiquity.10 I consider that the Church was highly developed but it was not as yet sufficiently
centred on the person and the authority of the pope to warrant this characterisation. Also, as I
show, the Roman Church included clergy who thought about its strategic direction, supported
the bishop and negotiated with him for a share of its wealth. The focus of this study is on the
entire Church, as defined, and how its developments interacted with and affected expressions of
its bishop’s authority. However, I use the terms pope and bishop of Rome interchangeably. In
addition, I treat the ‘clergy’ as a broad category, comprising all ordained members of the
Roman Church, including sacerdotes, other than the pope.11

Papal Authority
The authority of the bishop of Rome in the fifth century was complex, having, I suggest, five
main components: biblical mandates or claims; other traditional elements which attributed
authority to the successor of Peter; acquired authority; secular legislative and ecclesial conciliar
measures; and isomorphic aspects which added another strand of legitimacy. The biblical
sources of authority are well known. As reported by Matthew, Jesus Christ mandated Peter to
be head of the Church: ‘You are Peter, and on this rock, I will build my Church, and the gates
of the underworld can never hold out against it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of
heaven: whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven; whatever you loose on earth will
be loosed in heaven’ (Matthew 16:18-19). John recorded the mandate in pastoral terms: ‘Feed
my lambs… Feed my sheep’ (John 21:15-17). Popes also claimed responsibility for the ‘care of

9
In this thesis I use the Latin names for churches except for St Peter’s, St Paul’s and St Laurence’s for
which there is widespread common English usage. I use ‘Basilica Constantiniana’ when referring to the
church built by Constantine at the Lateran as the more familiar term can be understood as the palace or
the centre of the papal administration.
10
J. Moorhead, The Popes and the Church of Rome in Late Antiquity (London, 2015), p. xii.
11
The Liber Pontificalis sometimes distinguishes between the sacerdotes and the clergy. See the Life of
Boniface II, LP 57.

11
all churches’ (sollicitudo omnium ecclesiarum) (2 Corinthians 11:28). Although this latter
claim derives from the apostle Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians, in which he refers to ‘the
burden I carry every day, my anxious care for all the churches’, it became an all-embracing
claim by popes.12 The biblical mandates, especially Matthew 16:18-19, constituted the core of
the Roman Church’s claim to primacy, the right of the bishop to be head of all Christian
Churches and/or to be the final arbiter of orthodox doctrine. Successive popes were beginning
to make claims which were recognisably primatial from the late fourth century onwards; for the
most part these claims were asserted in the West and largely ignored in the East.

A second component of authority was two characteristics attributed to the Church by other
parties which, while falling short of a recognition of primacy, nevertheless gave the bishop of
Rome a special position: the Roman Church was apostolic and it was widely accepted as the
centre of the Christian communion (communio). Churches founded by apostles acquired a
special status: at the end of the second century Irenaeus of Lyons (c.130-c.200) and Tertullian
of Carthage (c.160-c.220), in response to Gnostics’ interpretations of scripture, promoted the
idea that the bishops of sees founded by apostles were recipients and the guarantors of the oral
tradition of Christ’s preaching.13 Within this tradition Irenaeus, but not Tertullian, attributed a
special place to Rome which had been founded by two apostles: ‘the church that is the greatest,
the most ancient, and known to all, founded and set up by the two most glorious apostles Peter
and Paul at Rome, while showing the tradition and the faith it proclaims to men comes down
through the succession of the bishops even to us … For it is necessary for every church — that
is, believers from everywhere — to agree with this church, in which the tradition from the
apostles has always been preserved by those who are from everywhere, because of its more
excellent origin (potentiorem principalitatem)’.14 This passage has long been recognised as a

12
Pope Zosimus made an early assertion of this claim in a letter to Aurelius and a Carthaginian Synod in
418, Collectio Avellana, Ep. 50.2: ‘habet enim ille cum omnium ecclesiarum tum huius maxime, ubi
sederat, curam’.
13
J.N.D. Kelly, Early Christian Doctrines, 5th edn. (London, 1977), pp. 36-41. In response to the
challenge from Gnostic sects, Irenaeus (Adversus haereses, III.1. Patrologia Graeca 7, col. 848)
promoted the notion of an oral tradition of Christ’s teaching which was passed on by apostles to their
successors as bishops. Similarly, Tertullian in De praescriptione haereticorum (Chapter 21.32)
considered that the apostolic tradition was not confined to the New Testament and the authenticity of
doctrine lay in the fact that churches had been founded by, and had continued to be linked with, the
apostles.
14
Irenaeus, Adversus haereses, III.3.2, PG 7, cols. 848-49: ‘Sed quoniam valde longum est in hoc tali
volumine omnium Ecclesiarum enumerare successiones, maximae et antiquissimae et omnibus cognitae,
a gloriosissimis duobus apostolis Petro et Paulo Romae fundatae et constitutae Ecclesiae, eam quam
habet ad apostolis Traditionem, at annuntiatam hominibus fidem, per successiones Episcoporum
pervenientem usque ad nos indicantes confundimus omnes eos, qui quoque modo, vel per sibi placentia,
vel vanam gloriam, vel per caecitatem et malam sententiam, praeterquam oportet colligunt. Ad hanc
Ecclesiam propter potentiorem principalitatem necesse est omnem convenire Ecclesiam hoc est, eos qui
sunt undique fideles, in qua semper ab his qui sent conservata est quae ea quae est ab apostolis Traditio’.
Translation by R.M. Grant, Irenaeus of Lyon, The Early Church Fathers (London, 1997), pp. 124-25.
R.B. Eno, The Rise of the Papacy (Wilmington, 1990), p.53, observes that Tertullian had little to say
about the position of the Roman Church.

12
difficult text. Jalland suggested that by ‘necessary … to agree’ Irenaeus intended Rome to be
understood as a paradigm example among apostolic churches who shared the same tradition,
and therefore the latter ‘necessarily agreed’.15 This interpretation does not infer that Irenaeus
expected the other churches to obey Rome. Nevertheless, I suggest that the statement is
important in showing recognition from outside the Church that it had a special authority.

I consider that this willingness to attribute authority to Rome was also reflected in the
recognition of the Roman Church as the centre of the Christian communion (communio).
Ludwig Hertling has argued that that there are sufficient examples to show that other churches
accepted the Roman Church in the role and that the basic function of its bishop was ‘not the
performance of official actions, but simply being present as the fundamental point of
orientation and unity in the network of communion between several churches’.16 An overriding
characteristic of Christian Church was the desire of all churches to be in communion with one
another, and in a single communion.17 Klaus Schatz, who endorses Hertling’s thesis, suggests
that the Christian Church learned through the experience of schisms that it needed a centre of
unity.18 From no later than the third century, communio with the Church of Rome was decisive
for membership of the Christian Church.19 In 381 a council of Aquileia wrote to the emperor
Gratian referring to the Roman Church ‘from [which] the rights of the revered communion flow
into all’.20 Hertling attributed the selection of the Roman Church as the centre of the communio
to the city’s civil and imperial status and the bishop’s succession from Peter.21 The notion of
the pope as the centre of the communio may not have had strong traction in the East before 476;
for instance, when John Chrysostom needed help in 404 he appealed to the bishops of Milan
and Aquileia as well as Pope Innocent I.22 However, I consider Hertling’s argument to be an
important contribution as it points to a source of authority that had existed, and could exist,
outside the structural arrangements of empire. The role should be considered with apostolic
status as forms of authority which derived their substance and legitimacy in large part from
what others, who were outside Rome, attributed to the position.

15
T. G. Jalland, The Church and the Papacy: A Historical Study, Bampton Lectures at Oxford 1942
(London, 1944), pp. 109-15. K. Schatz, Papal Primacy (Collegeville, 1996), pp. 9-11, also points to
difficulties with the text.
16
L. Hertling, Communio: The Church and the Papacy in Early Christianity, trans. J. Wicks, (Chicago,
1972), pp. 10, 71-76; Schatz, Papal Primacy, pp. 18-28.
17
Hertling, Communio, p. 69.
18
Schatz, Papal Primacy, p. 37.
19
Hertling, Communio, p. 69.
20
‘Inde … in omnes venerandae communionis iura dimanant’. Council of Aquileia (381) to the emperors
Gratian, Valentinian and Theodosius in Ambrose, Epistolae Prima Classis, Ep. 11, Patrologia Latina 16,
cols. 944-47, but especially 946, para 54; mentioned by Eno, The Rise of the Papacy, pp. 82-83.
21
Hertling, Communio, pp. 65-66.
22
H. Chadwick, The Church in Ancient Society: From Galilee to Gregory the Great, Oxford History of
the Christian Church (Oxford, 2001), p.497.

13
The Church and the popes also acquired authority by asserting forms of leadership in the early
centuries. We probably know of these exercises in leadership as they were largely successful,
but they were not always unchallenged. At the end of the first century, the Roman Church
intervened in the affairs of the church of Corinth where there had been a challenge to the local
leadership: a letter sent in its name recommended that the new pastors stand down, advice that
was followed.23 A passage from a letter of Bishop Dionysius of Corinth (c.170), recorded by
Eusebius of Caesarea, noted that it was the custom of the Romans ‘to send contributions to
many churches in every city’.24 Also, from the late second century the Church started to assert
its positions on the date on which to celebrate Easter, and on the question whether those
baptised by heretics needed to be re-baptised. Pope Victor (c.195) was credited with proposing
regional synods to settle the question of Easter. Except for the province of Asia where the
views of Polycrates prevailed, his opinion prevailed and there was no objection in principle to
his leadership.25 The Roman Church’s approach in the third century to the treatment of sinners
and heretical baptism was opposed by the theologian Tertullian and Cyprian of Carthage,
among others, although its opinions eventually prevailed.26 A later display of leadership was
Pope Julius (337-52)’s support for Athanasius of Alexandria and other eastern exiles in their
struggle against the emperor Constantius II, who had sought to revise the definition of Christ’s
nature that had been agreed at the Council of Nicea (325).27

In addition to these ecclesiastical components and leadership components, imperial legislation

and conciliar decisions acted to endorse and further papal authority in three important areas,
although each measure had a qualification or some limitation. First, in declaring Christianity to
be the religion of the empire, Gratian, Valentinian and Theodosius I stated the version to be
followed was ‘the religion which was delivered to the Romans by the divine apostle Peter, as it
has been preserved by faithful tradition; and which is now professed by the Pontiff Damasus
and by Peter, bishop of Alexandria’.28 Although the inclusion of Alexandria might have implied
equality with Rome, the requirement that it was religion delivered by Peter and the tradition,
mentioned by Jerome, that Mark was the disciple and interpreter of Peter very likely neutralised
that suggestion.29 Second, canon 4 of the Council of Nicea (325), organised and controlled by
Constantine, established the principle that the ecclesiastical organisation should match that of

23
Chadwick, The Church in Ancient Society, pp. 59-61.
24
Eusebius, The History of the Church from Christ to Constantine, trans. by G.A. Williamson. ed. by A.
Louth (London, 1965/1989), p. 131.
25
Jalland, The Church and the Papacy, p. 121.
26
A. Siecienski, The Papacy and the Orthodox: Sources and History of a Debate, Oxford Studies in
Historical Theology (Oxford, 2017), pp. 149-52.
27
Eno, The Rise of the Papacy, p. 49.
28
Edict Cunctos populos 380 (Codex Theodosius, XVI. i.2.) in H. Bettensen and C. Maunder (eds.),
Documents of the Christian Church, 4th edn. (Oxford, 2011), p. 20.
29
St Jerome, On IIllustrious Men, trans. T.P. Halton (Washington, 1999), VIII, p. 17.

14
the Empire.30 This promoted the position of the Roman Church as long as Rome remained a
residential imperial city. However, this principle of accommodation had an inherent weakness:
imperial arrangements did not remain unchanged and Constantinople grew in importance.
Under pressure, Rome countered with the principle of ‘apostolicity’, arguing for the greater
importance of sees founded by apostles. The issue crystallised at the First Council of
Constantinople (381) which reinforced the principle of accommodation and declared that the
bishop of Constantinople was to have primacy of honour after the bishop of Rome because it
was the New Rome’.31 In the following year Pope Damasus organised a council in Rome which
stated that the Roman Church had been placed before others, not by ‘conciliar decrees’ but by
Christ’s mandate to Peter in Matthew 16:18-19.32 Instead of the simple principle of apostolicity,
Damasus promoted an ordering of the major sees based on their association with Peter: Rome
first, Alexandria (founded by Peter’s disciple Mark) next, then Antioch (where Peter was first
bishop).33 The principle of accommodation helped embed the bishop of Rome’s control over
churches in the West but after 476 this was no longer underpinned by a western emperor’s
authority and, vis-à-vis Constantinople which became the sole imperial centre, the Roman
Church had every reason to re-emphasise the principle of apostolicity.

Third, in 445 Valentinian III formally endorsed the jurisdictional authority of popes in the
western empire. Although Leo I (440-61) had taken action against Hilary of Arles, who had
exceeded his jurisdiction in deposing two bishops, he was not in a position to enforce the
judgement in Gaul. In response to a petition (relatio) from Leo, Valentinian issued a novella to
the magister militum Aetius, upholding the pope’s assertions of primacy: ‘we decree by this
perpetual ordinance: that it should not be lawful for Gallican bishops, as well as those for other
provinces to attempt anything contrary to the old custom without the authority of the venerable
pope of the eternal city; but whatever the authority of the apostolic see has ordained, or shall
have ordained, this should be the law for those persons and for all persons…’34 Valentinian
also made provision for governors to act if bishops failed to obey the pope. His novella was a
strong endorsement of the papacy’s jurisdictional primacy which also ensured that the state

30
Canon 4 of Nicea stated that the metropolitan was to ratify ordinations of bishops in the province. See
L.D Davis, The First Seven Ecumenical Councils, (325-787), Theology and Life Series, no. 21,
(Collegeville, 1983), p. 64.
31
Canon 3, The Council of Constantinople 381, in Betterson and Maunder, Documents of the Christian
Church, p. 87; Davis, The First Seven Ecumenical Councils, pp. 64 and 127-28; D. Hunt, ‘The Church as
a Public Institution’, in A. Cameron and P. Garnsey (eds.), Cambridge Ancient History, Vol. 13, The
Late Empire AD 337-425, p. 245 ff.
32
The account of the Synod of Rome (382) is taken from Decretum Gelasianum de libris recipiendis et
non recipiendis, ed. E. von Dobschutz, Texte et Untersuchungen zur Geschichte der altchristilichen
Literatur Vol 38.4 (Leipzig, 1912), p.7.
33
Siecienski, The Papacy and the Orthodox, pp. 160-65;
34
Valentinian III, Novellae 17 (PL 54, col. 637), trans. P.R. Coleman-Norton, Roman State and Christian
Church: A Collection of Legal Documents to A.D. 535, vol. 2, p. 734. See also, M. Humphries,
‘Valentinian III and the City of Rome (425-55)’ in L. Grig and G. Kelly (eds.), Two Romes: Rome and
Constantinople in Late Antiquity (Oxford, 2012), pp. 166-70.

15
would provide an enforcement arm. Its weakness or limitation was that it only applied in the
western part of the empire.

A final component of papal authority comprised the adoption of imperial processes and
behaviours, a phenomenon that institutional theorists classify as ‘isomorphism’.35 Two
examples before 476 were decretals and church construction. Decretals were modelled on
imperial rescripts although it took time for them to acquire the same force as the imperial
version. Like rescripts, they were responses to questions posed to popes, usually on matters of
organisation, discipline or liturgy. They increasingly used terms of command that appeared in
rescripts: praecipimus, decernimus, iubemus. They had an ideological component in that, on
occasion, the pope took the opportunity in the arenga to assert papal authority.36 However, in
the beginning the replies were opinions rather than decrees, even if they were opinions that the
pope expected recipients to accept.37 In time decretals acquired the full force of law, a
development assisted by the emergence of collections, of which Dionysius Exiguus’s early
fifth-century Collectio Decretorum Pontificum Romanorum is a notable example, by popes’
adherence to precedent and by the existence of an archive.38 Another example of isomorphic
authority was church construction. The construction of public buildings and monuments in
Rome had been largely the preserve of emperors and the upper reaches of the senatorial
aristocracy. Even if the scale was unequal, some historians, for example Bryan Ward-Perkins
and Herman Geertman, argue strongly that popes’ construction of churches engendered similar
prestige and authority.39

Papal authority before 476 comprised this rich cocktail of elements. However, up to that date,
expressions of authority were contained within the political realities and the structure of the
Empire. It is difficult to dispute Geoffrey Dunn’s assessment that that the real basis for the
Roman bishop’s authority over other bishops in this period was the hierarchy of the Roman
provincial system which, of course, only supported the Roman Church’s position in the West.40
The underlying principle, or rather the means of enforcing it, would come to an end after 476.
Any power from others’ willingness to attribute authority or roles, such as the full implications

35
See below, p. 23.
36
D. Jasper and H. Fuhrmann, Papal Letters in the Early Middle Ages, History of Medieval Canon Law
(Washington, 2001), pp. 7-22.
37
D. D’Avray provides a comprehensive view on the current scholarship in ‘Half a Century of Research
on the First Papal Decretals’, Bulletin of Medieval Canon Law, 34 (2017), pp. 331-374.
38
G.D. Dunn, ‘The emergence of Papal decretals: the evidence of Zosimus of Rome’ in G. Greatrex, H.
Elton and L. McMahon (eds.), Shifting Genres in Late Antiquity (Farnham, 2015), pp. 81-92.
39
B. Ward-Perkins, From Classical Antiquity to the Middle Ages: Urban Public Buildings in Northern
and Central Italy AD 300-850 (Oxford, 1984), pp.71, 75, and 77; H. Geertman, ‘La genesi del Liber
Pontificalis romano. Un processo di organizzazione della memoria’ in F. Bougard and M. Sot (eds.),
Liber, Gesta, histoire: Ecrire l’histoire des évêques et des papes, de l’Antiquité au XXIe siècle
(Turnhout, 2009), pp. 37-107.
40
G.D. Dunn, ‘Introduction’, in Dunn (ed.), The Bishop of Rome in Late Antiquity (Farnham, 2015), p. 3.

16
of apostolic status or of the pope’s role at the centre of the communio, remained largely latent
until 476. Nevertheless, these powers existed and, I suggest, would come into play when the
imperial structure failed. I consider that all five components of authority are relevant. However,
in recent years, historians have tended to focus more on the secular or isomorphic aspects.

Historiography
The hundred or so years after the First Vatican Council (1870) witnessed considerable
scholarly interest in the history of papal authority, ‘primacy’ and the papacy as an institution.
The decades on either side of the Second Vatican Council (1962-65) saw the high watermark of
this interest. Scholars sought to explain the ‘rise of the papal monarchy’, spawning teleological
narratives in the process. Theologians sought to understand primacy: Protestants seeking to
deconstruct the pope’s claim to be the ‘Head of all Churches’, a major obstacle to re-
unification; Catholics questioning the degree to which they needed to obey the pope’s teaching
on such matters as birth control or, in rare cases such as the Dominican Cornelius Ernst,
wondering if their Church had taken a wrong path in allowing jurisdictional interpretations of
primacy to predominate over theological or sacramental alternatives.41 Since the 1970s,
approaches have been influenced by a strong desire to counter the inherent teleology of the
earlier period, and by secularism, a more general focus on the western episcopate as a field of
study, and a greater use of archaeological evidence. These trends have resulted in a more
limited interest in papal authority and primacy, a move to exploring the position of the bishop
and the Church in the city of Rome, a greater emphasis on the secular or isomorphic
components of the pope’s authority and a renewed attempt to look at aspects of the papal
administration.

Walter Ullmann exemplified an approach to papal authority that was teleological and juristic;
he also explained the development of papal government in legal terms. He saw the origins of
the medieval papacy in the pontificate of Leo I. He argued that Leo’s use of the Roman Law
concept ‘indignus heres’, supported by the Letter of Clement to the apostle James, established
each pope as the direct successor of Peter. This juristic succession and a jurisdictional
interpretation of Matthew 16:18-19 provided the ideological foundation stone for the later papal
monarchy. He also argued that a centralised form of government was inherent in the Petrine

41
C. Ernst, ‘The Primacy of Peter: Theology and Ideology’, New Blackfriars, 50 (1969), pp. 347-355
and 399-404; R.A. Markus and E. John, Papacy and Hierarchy (London, 1969); Markus, ‘Papal
Primacy: Light from the Early Middle Ages’, The Month, 229 (1970), pp. 352-61, reprinted in From
Augustine to Gregory the Great: History and Christianity in Late Antiquity (London, 1983), no. 16;
Sessa, ‘Exceptionality and Invention: Silvester and the Late Antique “Papacy” at Rome’ in J. Baun, A.
Cameron, M. Edwards and M. Vincent (eds.), Studia Patristica, 46 (2010), Papers presented at the
Fifteenth Conference on Patristic Studies held in Oxford in 2007, pp. 77-94.

17
mandate in Matthew 16.42 His overwhelming emphasis on a juristic interpretation is apparent in
the absence of any reference to doctrinal primacy in his analysis of this period; instead he
posited a struggle for hegemony between the sacerdotium and the regalis potestas.43 In
addition, he considered that the Council of Chalcedon implicitly rejected papal primacy, even
though it declared that ‘Peter had spoken through Leo’; it clearly mattered more in his
judgement that canons 17 and 28 of the Council endorsed the principle of accommodation both
generally, and specifically in regard to the sees of Rome and Constantinople.44 While historians
now reject the teleological components of Ullmann’s arguments, his legal analysis of the basis
of papal succession remains influential, and his work continues to shape and/or maintain a
predominantly juristic and jurisdictional perception of papal authority.

With two exceptions subsequent interpretations of primacy have not taken the understanding of
primacy much beyond Ullman’s analysis. While Joseph Canning urges some caution in
accepting the full implications of Ullmann’s interpretation of Leo’s pontificate, he also
observes that even the Johannine mandate (‘Feed my lambs…’), which is clearly pastoral in its
language, was given ‘a legal interpretation as fulfilling the Matthean one’.45 Philippe Blaudeau
sees the critical power ‘to bind and loose’ (ius [sic] ligandi solvendique) in Matthew 16 as a
disciplinary prerogative that found its form in the West in decretals.46 However, importantly, he
draws attention to Leo I (440-61)’s active policy of asserting Rome’s primacy on doctrine in
the East in the face of the miaphysite heresy. He identifies the Petrine status of the Roman see
and its association with the apostle’s preaching (praedicatio) as the underlying basis of the
Church’s authority in this sphere rather than Matthew 16.47 George Demacopoulos has recently
taken a new look at primacy by exploring the ‘Petrine topos’. His approach is discourse
analysis rather than institutional history and he chiefly argues that papal claims escalated at
moments of weakness. However, this approach, which eschews pursuing ‘the hopeless quest of
recovering and interpreting every historical detail’ does lead to questionable assessments of
papal weakness and, as I discuss in Chapter 3, to a misunderstanding of the dynamics of papal
power in this period.48 Nevertheless, both Blaudeau and Demacopoulos add to the discussion

42
W. Ullmann, The Growth of Papal Government in the Middle Ages: A Study in the Ideological
Relation of Clerical to Lay Power, 2nd edn. (London, 1962), pp.19-28; Ullmann, ‘Leo I and the Theme of
Papal Primacy’, Journal of Theological Studies, 11 (1) (1960), pp.25-51.
43
Ullmann only begins to talk about doctrinal primacy, which he calls ‘magisterial primacy’ when he
discusses Charlemagne’s arrangements with the Church. See The Growth of Papal Government, p. 109.
44
W. Ullmann, A Short History of the Papacy in the Middle Ages (London, 1972), p. 29.
45
J. Canning, A History of Medieval Political Thought, 300-1450 (London, 1996), pp. 30-32.
46
P. Blaudeau, Le Siège de Rome et L’Orient (448-536): Étude Géo-Ecclésiologique, Collection de
l’École française de Rome, no. 460 (Rome, 2012), p. 222.
47
Blaudeau, Le Siège de Rome, pp. 199-210 and 211-12; also, Blaudeau, ‘Rome contre Alexandrie?
L’interprétation pontificale de l’enjeu monophysite (de l’émergence de la controverse eutychienne au
schism acacien 448-484)’, Adamantius, 12 (2006), pp.140-216.
48
G.E. Demacopoulos, The Invention of Peter: Apostolic Discourse and Papal Authority in Late
Antiquity (Philadelphia, 2013), pp. 3-7. I particularly disagree with his assessment of Pope Gelasius’s
rehabilitation of Misenus, which I discuss in Chapter 3 — see below pp. 99 and 112.

18
on primacy, and I consider the former’s spotlight on doctrinal primacy in the fifth century is an
important contribution in so far as it represents a rare focus on the subject.

Since the 1970s, there has been a far greater focus on the emergence of the bishop of Rome into
a position of authority in the city. Richard Krautheimer and Charles Petri anticipated this
development, when they argued that the Church was dominant in the city in the fifth century.49
Subsequent scholarship has rejected this assessment as teleological and more recent
explanations fit within a broad narrative of power passing from western emperors, first to the
senatorial aristocracy, and then to the bishop of Rome. This has resulted in a significant focus
on the aristocracy’s relationship with the Church, and for some historians, the Laurentian
schism (498-506/7) and the start of the Gothic Wars (536) are key events. Peter Llewellyn
focused on the struggle between senators and clerical hierarchy for control of the Church and
its wealth, and how that conflict related to the split within the clergy in the Laurentian schism.50
Participants in the Manchester University-based Religion, Dynasty and Patronage Project,
challenged the teleology of Krautheimer and Pietri and developed Llewellyn’s analysis.51 Their
model of interaction, as demonstrated by Kate Cooper, is of aristocrat-led coalitions of lay and
clerical participants in competition with each other.52 However, they see the Roman Church’s
replacement of the senatorial aristocracy as the main political actor in Rome as a by-product of
Justinian’s re-conquest rather than as an outcome of that political competition: the bishop of
Rome ‘emerged as the implausible winner of the Ostrogothic-Byzantine crisis’.53 Michele
Salzman argues that popes relied on aristocrats to manage their major external relationships,
and while the aristocrats could have entered the Church, they chose not to do so until the
Gothic Wars deprived them of their secular careers.54 The first aristocratic popes were Vigilius
(537-55), Pelagius I (556-61) and John III (561-74). Both Llewellyn and the Project
participants portray a weaker papacy, and a more fragmented view of the Roman Church, than
would support an argument that the Roman Church had strategic programmes or agendas,
whereas Salzman implies that the narrative should be aristocrats’ takeover of Church, which
arguably the Gothic Wars triggered.

49
C. Pietri, Roma christiana: recherches sur l’Église de Rome, son organisation, sa politique, son
idéologie de Miltiade à Sixte III (311-440), Bibliothèque des Écoles françaises d’Athènes et de Rome,
no. 224 (Rome, 1976); R. Krautheimer, Rome: Profile of a City, 312-1308 (Princeton, 1980/2000).
50
P. Llewellyn, ‘The Roman Church during the Laurentian Schism: Priests and Senators’, Church
History, 45 (1976), pp. 417-27.
51
The project or collaboration started in 1996. See K. Cooper and J. Hillner, ‘Introduction’ in K. Cooper
and J. Hillner (eds.), Religion, Dynasty and Patronage in Early Christian Rome, 300-900 (Cambridge,
2007), p.7.
52
Cooper, ‘The martyr, the matrona and the bishop: the matron Lucina and politics of the martyr cult in
fifth- and sixth-century Rome’, Early Medieval Europe 8 (1999), pp. 297-317 and Cooper and Hillner,
‘Introduction’, Religion, Dynasty and Patronage, p. 12.
53
Cooper and Hillner (eds.), ‘Introduction’, Religion, Dynasty and Patronage, p.4.
54
M.R. Salzman, ‘Lay Aristocrats and Ecclesiastical Politics: A New View of the Papacy of Felix III
(483-492 CE) and the Acacian Schism’, Journal of Early Christian Studies, 27(3) (2019), pp. 465-89.

19
Claudia Rapp’s observation that the approach of social and political historians working after
the mid-twentieth century ‘is marked by a noticeable neglect of the religious or even
ecclesiastical dimension of the episcopate’, has considerable validity for Rome.55 Except for
the pontificate of Gregory I (590-604), there have been few attempts to explain the
ecclesiastical development of the Church in Rome.56 Instead, some historians have identified
secular structures or patterns of authority which, they argue, popes copied. An influential
proponent of this trend is Andrea Augenti, who argues that the papacy established its
legitimacy in Rome by gradually occupying the Palatine Hill, an area with enduring
associations with power.57 Kristina Sessa focuses on the institution of the bishop of Rome and
argues that estate management (‘oikonomia’), and in particular the position of steward, was the
model for episcopal authority in Rome. In this major work she says nothing about Petrine
authority.58 Another contribution identifying an isomorphic pattern of authority is provided by
those who align imperial and papal patronage, and argue that churches were a new form of
public monuments, and that popes sought to acquire the kind of prestige that typically accrued
to emperors from their construction.59 Approaching the matter from a different perspective,
Rosamond McKitterick argues that the purpose of the Liber Pontificalis was to construct the
position of the pope as secular ruler of Rome, in support of which she argues that the structural
model for the text was Roman imperial history.60

In addition, since the 1970s there has been little interest in writing an institutional history of the
Roman Church although, more recently, historians have addressed aspects of its administration.
Two decades ago, Thomas Noble observed that the source material is limited, the basic
institutional structure is well known, and the remaining problems were not particularly
interesting; where scholars engaged, they were usually informed by insights from social
anthropology.61 Noble has also noted that a discussion of the institutional development of the

55
C. Rapp, Holy Bishops in Late Antiquity: the Nature of Christian Leadership in an Age of Transition,
Transformation of the Classical Heritage, no. 37 (Berkeley, 2005), p. 9.
56
Alan Thacker is an exception in showing how popes applied a strategic approach to saint cults by
linking extra mural cult sites with centres of worship within the walls. See ‘Martyr Cults Within the
Walls: Saints and Relics in the Roman Tituli of the Fourth to Seventh Centuries’ in A. Minns and J.
Roberts (eds.), Text, Image, Interpretation: Studies in Anglo-Saxon Literature and its Insular Context in
Honour of Éamonn Ó Carragáin (Turnhout, 2007), pp. 31-72.
57
A. Augenti, ‘Continuity and Discontinuity of a seat of power: the Palatine Hill from the fifth to tenth
century’ in J.M.H. Smith (ed.), Early Medieval Rome and the Christian West: Essays in Honour of
Donald A. Bullough (Leiden, 2000), pp. 43-54, particularly pp. 49-52.
58
K. Sessa, The Formation of Papal Authority in Late Antique Italy (Cambridge, 2012).
59
For instance, Ward-Perkins, From Classical Antiquity to the Middle Ages, pp. 70-77, and C. Goodson,
‘Roman Archaeology in Medieval Rome’ in D. Caldwell and L. Caldwell (eds.), Rome: Continuing
Encounters Between Past and Present (Aldershot, 2011), pp. 23–45.
60
R. McKitterick, ‘Roman Texts and Roman History in the early Middle Ages’ in C. Bolgia, R.
McKitterick and J. Osborne (eds) Rome Across Time and Space: Cultural Transmission and the
Exchange of Ideas, c.500-1400 (Cambridge, 2001), pp. 19-34. I discuss McKitterick’s views in more
detail in Chapter 2.
61
T.F.X. Noble, ‘The Intellectual Culture of the Early Medieval Papacy’ in Rome nell’alto medioevo,
Settimane di studio del Centro italiano di studi sull’alto medioevo 48 (Spoleto, 2001), pp. 180-81.

20
papacy between Constantine (306-337) and Gregory I (590-604) is a missing essay in the
oeuvre of Michele Maccarrone, ‘the greatest papal historian of the twentieth century’.62 Prior to
Noble’s observations, Jeffrey Richards saw the papacy as an institution with its ideology and
objectives (primacy and the defence of orthodoxy) set by 476. Beyond stating that if it grew, it
did so through a series of historical accidents rather than any coherent radical design, and by
being ‘the right institution in the right place at the right time’, he showed no interest in its
development qua institution in the period 476- 752.63 John Moorhead’s recent work on popes
from 440 to 752 updates that of Richards. He is concerned to place popes in their community
and occasionally looks at the internal workings of the church, but he does not analyse the
Roman Church as an institution and, as noted above, he declines to use the term ‘papacy’ as
this suggests a greater degree of institutionalisation than he considered had been achieved in
late antiquity.64 Other historians, who have sought to breathe new life into the subject, have
focused on the development of the more limited phenomenon of papal administration. Bronwen
Neil and Pauline Allen have applied the current business concept of ‘crisis management’ to the
papacy between 410 and 590, and especially to the pontificate of Gelasius I (492-496), while
Peter Brown discusses popes as ‘managerial bishops’. 65 Caroline Humfress points to the
Church’s borrowings from the late Roman imperial government culture, essentially its legal
mentality, as it started to issue decretals.66 However, although these later works address aspects
of the Church as an institution, they do not seriously challenge Noble’s observations.

I present a different view of the Roman Church and papal authority. Against Ullmann and his
followers’ juristic interpretations, I question the dominant juristic perspective, and consider that
more attention should be paid to doctrinal primacy, which spoke to the Church’s identity and,
in reality, was the stronger source of the Church’s power and authority. I disagree with
Demacopoulos’s main characterisation of primacy: as I show in Chapter 3, popes engaged with
eastern emperors, and with some success. I differ from those who present a narrative of popes
succeeding senatorial aristocrats as the political leaders in Rome; I am more concerned to
explain the Church’s institutional development. For this, I consider what happened in 476 and
482 more important than the Laurentian schism and the Gothic Wars, and I suggest that the
relationship between the bishop and his clergy was more critical than that between aristocrats

62
T.F.X. Noble, ‘Michele Maccarrone on the Medieval Papacy: Review Article’, The Catholic Historical
Review, 80(3) (1994), p. 519.
63
J. Richards, The Popes and the Papacy in the Early Middle Ages, 476-752 (London, 1979), pp. 1-5.
64
Moorhead, The Popes and the Church of Rome, p. xii.
65
B. Neil and P. Allen, Crisis Management in Late Antiquity (410-590 CE): A Survey of the Evidence
from Episcopal Letters) (Leiden, 2013) and The Letters of Gelasius I (492-496): Pastor and Micro-
Manager of the Church of Rome (Turnhout, 2014); P. Brown, Through the Eye of a Needle: Wealth, the
Fall of Rome, and the Making of Christianity in the West, 350-550 AD (Princeton, 2012), Chapter 28 but
especially pp. 496-98 and p. 492.
66
C. Humfress, Orthodoxy and the Courts in Late Antiquity (Oxford, 2007), pp. 211-12; D’Avray, ‘Half
a Century of Research on the First Papal Decretals’, p. 331.

21
and the Church. Unquestionably, there was a secular component to papal authority, but I argue
that it should not be interpreted as laying any claim to secular rule in Rome. I am mindful of
Noble’s observations on institutional history and the role of social anthropology; I propose a
new explanation of the Church’s institutional development and I adopt insights from neo-
institutional theory.

Neo-Institutional Theory
In this thesis I call on insights of institutional theorists, especially those of political scientists.
Neo-institutional theory has developed since the 1970s as a semi-autonomous discipline with
participation from political scientists, sociologists, economists and political philosophers.67 I
consider particularly relevant the contributions of political scientists who broadly belong within
one of two schools, namely Historical Institutionalism and Rational Choice Theory, and who
address institutional change, the behaviour of individuals and groups within an organisation,
and concepts such as institutional legitimacy.68 The approach of political scientists differs from
that of historians and many findings are, on their own terms, not ‘portable’. However, their
approach can help frame how one might perceive an institution, and they can suggest what
processes, structures and behaviours are worth consideration. In addition, their general findings
can support conclusions drawn from difficult evidence.

Historical institutionalists seek to explain how institutions change.69 While there are many
definitions of ‘institution’ it is widely accepted that their overarching characteristics are
stability and the ability to reproduce themselves. To the sociologist Anthony Giddens ‘[they] by
definition are the more enduring features of social life … giving “solidity” [to social systems]
across time and space’.70 Inherently they are relatively resistant to change. Historical
institutionalists focus on how they change. They consider that changes in environmental
conditions can produce institutional change. They recognise that institutions are normally in
‘equilibrium’ but that equilibrium can be ‘punctured’, often by ‘exogenous shocks’ which are
usually wars or economic crises. Following these occasions (‘critical junctures’) institutions
can pursue a number of options, including a renegotiation of their elements or a re-direction to
a new purpose. Unlike Rational Choice theorists, historical institutionalists identify longer-

67
B.G. Peters, Institutional Theory in Political Science: The New Institutionalism, 4th edn. (Cheltenham,
2019), Chapters 1 and 2.
68
R.C. Scott, Institutions and Organisations: Ideas, Interests and Identities, 4th edn. (Los Angeles,
2014), Chapter 2.
69
P. Pierson, Politics in Time: History, Institutions, and Social Analysis (Princeton, 2004). See Chapter 5
for details and critique.
70
Quoted by Scott, Institutions and Organisations, p. 57.

22
term processes rather than the strategic moves of individuals (‘actors’) as causes or agents of
change.71

Rational Choice theorists focus on individuals’ actions and behaviours within an institution.
They see institutions as entities established (or modified) by individuals to advance their own
interests: ‘[institutions] represent deliberately constructed edifices established by individuals
seeking to promote or protect their interests’.72 Theorists expect actors to be active in pursuing
their goals within existing structures. However, they also suggest that actors often come to
realise that their goals can best be achieved through collective action.73

Theorists of all disciplines stress the importance of legitimacy and some discuss ‘isomorphism’
as a form of legitimation. Legitimacy is an important concept for any institution or organisation
but, I suggest, particularly for one that seeks to establish a position of authority over others.
The sociologist Talcott Parsons saw that legitimacy is acquired from the extent to which the
organisation’s goals match its function in society.74 Isomorphism is a practice that accrues
legitimation by copying existing authoritative structures or processes.75 The sociologists John
Meyer and Brian Rowan argue that organisations, a common form of institution, which exist in
highly elaborate institutional environments and adopt structures that are authoritative in those
settings, acquire legitimacy.76

These insights have a bearing on the subject matter of this thesis. I consider that the Roman
Church’s loss of its main patron and the main supporter of its primacy, and the emergence of
the eastern emperor as a competitor in the religious sphere were double exogenous shocks to
which it had to respond. There is a strong case for saying that the event of 476 did not bring
about the end of the empire in the West but, in regard to the Roman Church as an institution, I
consider that the near contemporary events of 476 and 482 had significant consequences.77

71
Pierson, Politics in Time, pp. 134-35; J. Conran and K. Thelen, ‘Institutional Change’ in O. Fioretos,
T.G. Falleti and A. Sheingate (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of Historical Institutionalism (Oxford, 2016),
pp. 51-70.
72
Scott, Institutions and Organisations, p. 40.
73
Peters, Institutional Theory in Political Science, p. 55.
74
T. Parsons, ‘A sociological approach to the theory of organisations’ in Parsons, Structure and Process
in Modern Societies, (Glencoe, 1960), p.21, mentioned in Scott, Institutions and Organisations, p. 184.
75
Scott, Institutions and Organisations, pp. 183-85.
76
J.W. Meyer and B. Rowan, ‘Institutionalised Organisations: Formal Structure as Myth and Ceremony’
in American Journal of Sociology, 83 (1977), p. 352, mentioned in Scott, Institutions and Organisations,
p. 184.
77
M.S. Bjornlie, for instance, argues that 476 only marked the end of the western empire at the moment
that it suited the propagandist purposes of the eastern court — see Politics and Tradition between Rome,
Ravenna and Constantinople: A Study of Cassiodorus and the Variae, 527-554, Cambridge Studies in
Medieval Life and Thought, Fourth Series no. 89 (Cambridge, 2013), p. 93. R. McKitterick, ‘The popes
as rulers of Rome in the Aftermath of Empire, 476-69’ in S.J. Brown, C. Methuen and A. Spicer (eds.),
The Church and Empire, Studies in Church History, vol. 54 (Cambridge, 2018), pp. 72-73, also discusses
the end of the western empire in 476 as a construct of Byzantine apologists and/or of nineteenth- and
twentieth-century historians.

23
Rational Choice theorists’ explanation of individual and group behaviour within an
organisation goes some way to endorsing the analysis of the actions of the clergy that I present
in regard to their support of episcopal authority and in paying for their positions. I suggest that
some of the assertions of authority that we see after 476 were attempts to claim or re-establish a
legitimacy that had been put in doubt when the Roman Church lost the support of western
emperors. I include in this reaction attempts by the papal administration to model itself on the
imperial bureaucracy.

Argument

This thesis sets out to consider how the Roman Church responded to the demise of the line of
western emperors, and whether and/or how expressions of authority evolved in the changed
environment. I argue that the events of 476 and 482 were profoundly determinative to the
development of the Church as an institution and they gave rise to new expressions of papal
authority. The findings of the study call for a reconsideration of how papal power and authority
operated in the period. The events significantly altered the environment in which the Church
operated. The Church no longer had close at hand an emperor willing to enforce its authority
and it could not rely on the hierarchical provincial structure to maintain its position in the West.
Instead, I argue, it had to revert to those components of its authority which had pre-existing
broad acceptance: its enhanced apostolic status (it was founded by two apostles, one of whom
was the prince of the apostles) and its position at the centre of the Christian communion.
Although the bishop of Rome’s role as the centre of the communio had limited traction in the
East, it was to acquire additional force through the grafting on of a new interpretation of the
power to bind and loose which emerged in the Acacian schism and established the bishop of
Rome with effective power to determine membership of the Christian community. Instead of
the current heavy adherence to juristic interpretations of papal authority, I argue that more
attention needs to be paid to doctrinal primacy and the Church’s efforts to maintain and
enhance its record of and reputation for orthodoxy. This spoke to its identity as an institution
and was a source of real power.

I argue that the replacement of the western emperor by the pope as the Church’s main patron
helped unify the institution, even if all the steps in the process cannot be fully understood;
further, the analysis of papal patronage shows a focus on the bishop’s pastoral responsibilities
in the city. Ostrogothic kings and eastern emperors did not replace the western emperors as
patrons. It did not serve senatorial aristocrats’ interests to patronise the Roman Church, even if
they built churches on their estates or in their localities. The behaviour of the clergy was of

24
greater importance. There are signs that the clergy negotiated with the bishop for a share in his
authority and in the Church’s wealth. The post-476 financial settlement (the quadripartitum)
probably secured the clergy’s engagement and altered patronal patterns. I suggest that the
Church united under the pope as the clergy acquired a share in its wealth.

I also argue that more attention should be paid to the Roman Church as an ecclesiastical
institution, rather than to its secular and isomorphic characteristics or, in one or two cases, to its
future as the secular ruler in Rome. I do not consider that a focus on the Church as an
institution limits the perspective of the range of its activities; rather, I consider it validly shows
an organisation concerned with ecclesiastical matters.

The thesis is structured in three main chapters, focusing on the Liber Pontificalis, the Collectio
Avellana, and patronage respectively. In Chapter 2, I show that the authors of the first recension
of the Liber Pontificalis were intent on promoting the doctrinal primacy of the Roman Church
but expressions of the clergy’s interests are also apparent. The authors were prepared to
promote the authority of their bishop, but only on the condition they he exercised it with the
consent of the clergy. The authors also claimed a Petrine mandate for the clergy, claiming a
separate prestige and inheritance. In Chapter 3, against the current view which sees Collectio
Avellana as a canonical collection, I interpret the text as a complex late antique letter
collection, reflecting aspects of both papal and episcopal sub-genres. I show that the compiler’s
objectives were to defend the record and reputation of Pope Vigilius (537-55) and his position
on the Three Chapters; to track developments in doctrinal and jurisdictional primacy and to
assert the Church’s claims to both of these; and to outline the terms of an appropriate
relationship between the emperor and the Roman Church. In Chapter 4, I compare patterns of
patronage before and after 476. I suggest how the Church unified as a result of the emergence
of the pope as the its main patron, and of the clergy’s participation as its members started to
share in the wealth of the institution. I also show that Roman bishops focused on their pastoral
responsibilities in the city and that they introduced new saint-cults and developed existing ones
as a new form of patronage, underlining the religious and ecclesiastical nature of their authority
in the city.

25
CHAPTER 2

The Liber Pontificalis and Papal Authority

Analysis of the first edition of the Liber Pontificalis reveals how the Roman Church developed
as an institution and casts light on how and why it asserted its authority in the years 476-536.
The edition was compiled in a critical period in the Church’s history: this period opens with the
demise of the line of western emperors and closes with the start of the emperor Justinian’s
reconquest of Rome and Italy in 536, virtually the same date as the compilation. It saw the
Acacian schism (484-519), a major rift between the Roman Church and the patriarchal sees in
the East. Closer to home it also witnessed the Laurentian schism (498-506/7), a division in the
Church resulting from the competing elections of Symmachus and Laurence as bishop of
Rome. According to some historians, for most of this time the Church enjoyed relative
independence, due mainly to the protection provided by the Herulian Odoacer (476-93) and the
Ostrogothic king Theoderic (493-526), and it took the opportunity to assert its authority.
Another view would see the Church no longer supported by the structure of the western empire
and needing to re-establish its authority. The Liber Pontificalis is a text intended to assert papal
authority. There is debate over the precise nature of that authority, and how and in what context
the editors constructed popes’ authority.

In this chapter I argue that the Liber was a response to events much deeper than the Laurentian
schism, events which had been in train since c.476: the demise of western emperors and
challenges on doctrine from eastern emperors, starting with the emperor Zeno’s Henotikon,
which he issued in 482. The environment in which the Church operated changed significantly
and members of the Church sought to assert its authority and re-define the organisation. I show
how the Liber was part of the institutional response. The editors were particularly concerned to
assert the Church’s claim to doctrinal primacy, a core feature of its identity and the major
source of its authority.

The Liber Pontificalis: Manuscripts, Editions and Sources

The Liber Pontificalis, or the Gesta Pontificum as it is known in some of the oldest
manuscripts, comprises serial biographies of popes from the time of St Peter.1 It is known from

1
L. Duchesne (ed.), Le Liber Pontificalis: Texte, Introduction et Commentaire, 2 vols (Paris, 1886-92).
English translation by R. Davis, The Book of the pontiffs (Liber Pontificalis): The Ancient Biographies of
the First Ninety Bishops to AD 715, Translated Texts for Historians, no. 6, 3rd edn. (Liverpool, 2010).
Hereafter the text will be referred to as the Liber Pontificalis, the Liber or, in footnotes the LP. Where
editorial content or a text other than the Liber Pontificalis, but in Duchesne’s edition, is referenced, the
reference will remain Le Liber Pontificalis.

26
some 70 or so extant manuscripts.2 Most continue the lives of popes beyond the original
composition of the text (c.536). In some, only a list of names of the subsequent popes was
added to the core text. Louis Duchesne, who edited the text in the late nineteenth century,
suggested five main classes of manuscripts: A through to E, and two classes of abridgements
(the Felician and Cononian epitomes), F and K respectively. He determined classification on
the basis of textual similarity and/or the identification of a common ancestor. Each class has a
sub-class or sub-classes which is/ are represented by at least one manuscript.3 Duchesne’s
overall analysis of all the entire range of the manuscripts has not been revisited, although
Theodore Mommsen also edited the text in the nineteenth century and proposed three classes: I,
II, III.4

Relatively little is known about how the Liber was initially circulated or transmitted. The
earliest extant manuscript that contains the Liber, the Class B Neopolitanus IV, dates from the
seventh century. The next oldest are three manuscripts from the eighth century: the Class A
codex Lucensis 490, the Class B Taurinensis, F. IV.18, and the Class C Leydensis Vossianus
60. Sixteen manuscripts, thought to date from the ninth century, contain versions of the Liber:
three contain the Felician epitome, two the Cononian version; seven Class B, two Class C and
two Class D variants are in the other codices. Most of these pre-tenth century manuscripts are
of Frankish origin although the provenance of the Neopolitanus IV and the Taurinensis, F.
IV.18 was Bobbio in Northern Italy.

The codicological contexts of the extant manuscripts say nothing about the nature of the first
edition of Liber; they only indicate how it was received. Friedrich Maassen showed in relation
to the ninth-century codex Parisinis 1451, that a copy of the Felician epitome was added to its
collection of canons in Gaul in c.590. Duchesne suggested it was included because it provided
popes’ names, which contributed to a better understanding of canonical texts.5 In the eighth-
century Lucensis 490, the Liber is to be found with Chronicles of Jerome and Isidore of Seville,
Eusebius’ Ecclesiastical History (as continued by Rufinus), Jerome’s De viris illustribus,
Gennadius’ Ecclesiasticis dogmatibus, two pieces on the Easter cycle, a fragment of Isidore's

2
This figure is taken from C. Gantner, ‘The Lombard Recension of the Roman Liber Pontificalis’,
Rivista di Storia del Cristianesimo, Da vescovi di Roma a papi. L’invenzione del Liber Pontificalis, 10,
(2013) (1), p. 65. If all the fragments identified by Duschesne are included, the figure exceeds 80.
3
Le Liber Pontificalis, ‘Les Manuscripts’, pp. clxiv-ccvi; see also, Gantner, ‘The Lombard Recension’,
p. 67.
4
T. Mommsen (ed.), Gestorum Pontificum Romanorum vol I, Libri Pontificalis, Pars Prior, Monumenta
Germaniae Historica, vol. 1 (Berlin, 1898). Mommsen’s Class I mainly includes Duchesne’s Class A
manuscripts, Class II mainly Classes B, C, and D. and Class III mainly Class E. See pp. iv-v.
5
Le Liber Pontificalis, Chapter 3: ‘La Première Édition’, p. lii: ‘le Liber Pontificalis, sous la forme de
l’abrégé félicien, était connu en Gaule et annexé à une collection canonique, avec la Notitia provinciarum
imperii et la Notitia Galliarum, comme document utile pour l’intelligence des textes canoniques; les deux
notices géographiques servaient à se retrouver dans les noms des conciles, le Liber Pontificalis dans les
noms des papes’.

27
Origins, the Apostolic Canons, and a Spanish epitome of a canonical collection.6 Here, the
Liber appears to be part of a collection more concerned with history than with canons, although
the latter are also present. In neither of these cases does content of the codices shed any light on
why the first edition was compiled.

Duchesne considered that two editions of the Liber were compiled in the first half of the sixth
century. He argued that the writing of the first edition, ending with the life of Felix IV (526-
30), commenced in the pontificate of Hormisdas (514-23). He suggested that the lives from
Anastasius II (496-98) through to Felix were written at the same time, possibly by the same
person. He considered a second edition, which he designated ‘P’, added lives from Boniface II
(530-32), to Silverius (536-37) and entailed a reworking of the first. He thought that P had been
produced in the pontificate of Vigilius (537-553) by someone who had witnessed the siege of
Rome in 537-38.7 Duchesne argued that the text of the original edition had not survived.
Instead, he suggested that there had been three or four manuscripts of the original: one formed
the basis of the second edition P; two others were the sources for the Felician and the Cononian
epitomes; a fourth had been called on by the compilers of the original Class E manuscript,
which itself was the combined product of the first and second edition.8 Duchesne established
the text of the second edition P with its successive continuations up to Stephen V (885-891).9
He also attempted to reconstruct the first edition on the basis of the two epitomes and P. He
thought that the Class A manuscripts were the most reliable for establishing the first edition.10

As identified by Duchesne, the sources used by the editors of the first edition included the
Liberian Catalogue, lists of Roman bishops compiled in the fifth and sixth centuries, Jerome’s
De viris illustribus, several Gesta Martyrum, two fictional accounts of councils supposedly
held in Rome at the time of Nicea, and the apocryphal letter from Pope Clement to the apostle
James.11 The Liberian Catalogue, part of the Chronology of 354 which was also known as the
Philocalian Calendar, was an important source. It comprises a list of popes from Peter to
Liberius (352-66), usually with the names of the emperors of the time, and of those who were
consuls at the beginning and end of the pontificates. Duchesne demonstrated where these and
some of its short notes were reproduced in the Liber.12 As such, the Catalogue may be
considered the prototype for the Liber. The fictional accounts of councils, the Constitutum
Silvestri and the Council of 275 Bishops, were part of Symmachan Apocrypha, propaganda
generated in the Laurentian Schism that has survived.

6
Le Liber Pontificalis, ‘Les Manuscrits’, pp. clxiv-vi.
7
Le Liber Pontificalis: ‘La Date du LiberPontificalis’, pp. xxxiii-xlviii.
8
Le Liber Pontificalis, ‘La Première Édition’, pp. lvii-lxvii and ‘Histoire du Texte’, pp. ccxiii.
9
Le Liber Pontificalis, ‘Première Édition Restitutée’, pp. 46ff.
10
Le Liber Pontificalis, ‘Histoire du Texte’, p. ccxiii.
11
Le Liber Pontificalis, ‘Les Sources’. p. lxviii.
12
Le Liber Pontificalis, pp. 1-9.

28
In recent years Duchesne’s chronology of the editions has been challenged by Herman
Geertman who argues that P is in fact the first edition, and that it ended with the pontificate of
John II (d. 535), rather than with that of Felix IV (d. 530).13 He focuses on palaeographic
evidence and content; he has not revisited Duchesne’s analysis of the Liber’s manuscripts. He
argues that it had three editorial phases. He distinguishes Phase 1 (P1) and P2 on the basis of
their internal coherence. He shows that P1 comprises four rubrics or categories of information
in each papal biography: prosopography and chronology, details of ordinations, notices of
administrative, liturgical and doctrinal measures, and facts about papal and imperial patronage.
It has an overall unity of style but lacks narrative. P2 is characterised by narrative, ‘extensive
historic additions’, which dwarf other content and address four main themes: the Council of
Nicea and conflicts with emperors with Arian leanings; the Council of Chalcedon and
monophysite tensions; five double elections of popes; and claims of misgovernance against
reigning popes.14 He points to parallels between the earlier and later content of this phase,
arguing that former need to be understood in terms of their significance for reports of
contemporary popes.15 He considers that P3 is a retouching of P2 with minor additions, except
for the inclusion of an explanation of the hierarchical and chronological relationship between
the first four popes (i.e. from Peter to Clement). He argues that the Felician and Cononian
epitomes also derive from P2 in that they do not include the new content or the additions of
P3.16 He focuses little on the sources that the editors may have used, only specifically
acknowledging borrowings from the Liberian Catalogue. He also says little about the dating of
the three editorial phases, noting only that P1 was enriched not much later with the historic
additions of P2; that P3 was compiled contemporaneously with or not much later than the
Felician and Cononian epitomes; and that the editing was finished in the years 530-35 or a little
later.17 Geertman’s analysis is relatively new, and historians are still beginning to consider its
implications.

Historiography

The Liber Pontificalis has a very wide-ranging historiography but it is much more limited when
it comes to explaining the first edition. Historians who seek reasons for the compilation and/or

13
H. Geertman, ‘La genesi del Liber Pontificalis romano. Un processo di organizzazione della memoria’
in F. Bougard and M. Sot (eds.) Liber, Gesta, histoire: Écrire l’histoire des évêques et des papes, de
l’Antiquité au XXIe siècle (Turnhout, 2009), pp. 37-107. He has separately integrated the Duchesne and
Mommsen editions for pontificates between those of Miltiades and John II (311-535) but this does not
amount to a new edition — ‘Documenti, redattori e la formazione del testo del Liber Pontificalis’ and
‘Le Biografie del Liber Pontificalis del 311 al 535 in H. Geertman (ed) Il Liber Pontificalis e la storia
materiale, Atti del colloquio internazionale, Roma 21-22 febbraio 2002, Mededelingen van het
Nederlands Instituut te Rome, 60-1 Assen (2003), pp. 267-84 and 285-355.
14
Geertman, ‘La genesi del Liber Pontificalis’, pp. 41-42.
15
Geertman, ‘La genesi del Liber Pontificalis’, p. 43.
16
Geertman, ‘La genesi del Liber Pontificalis’, p. 45.
17
Geertman, ‘La genesi del Liber Pontificalis’, pp. 41, 45 and 37.

29
to explain the context in which it was compiled fall into three broad groups which are not
mutually exclusive: first, Duchesne and those who follow him consider the Laurentian schism
(499-506/7) the cause; second, those who follow Geertman’s structural analysis identify the
Gothic Wars as the context, and attribute to the Liber’s editors an agenda of furthering the
bishop’s secular ambitions; third, others suggest a more generalised intention to assert papal
orthodoxy and independence from imperial control. In their explanations, historians have not
in all cases focused only on the first edition.18

Duchesne identified the Laurentian Schism, which resulted when two candidates, Symmachus
and Laurence, were elected bishop of Rome in 498, as the immediate cause for the compilation
of the Liber. The consequent schism lasted from 499 until 506/7. He argued that the Liber was
a response to a similar, but pro-Laurentian, serial history of the popes of which only a fragment
survives. As the Laurentian Fragment mentions the end of Symmachus’ life in 514, his death
in is taken as the terminus post quem for the compilation of both the Fragment and the Liber.
There is support for Duchesne’s view in borrowings from Symmachan apocrypha and the
positive presentation of Pope Symmachus in the Liber.19 This being so, the text is viewed by
some as a pro-Symmachan document, written by editors sympathetic to the pope and his
policies, a sentiment that was still relevant in c.530 when another double election showed that
the earlier divisions were still alive.20 Many historians have accepted Duchesne’s view as a full
or partial explanation. While his analysis of the editions’ chronology prevailed, there was little
attempt to go beyond the schism as a reason for the compilation of the text.

Geertman’s structural analysis offers the possibility of three sets of reasons for the compilation
for the Liber’s first edition. He argues that the aim of the editors of P1 was to outline an image
of the bishops of Rome as administrators and benefactors with a dignity equal to that of worthy
emperors, in other words to provide a pontifical history that could be compared with imperial
history (historia augusta).21 He considers the editors of P2 had two objectives: first, to
underline the independent position of the bishop of Rome, his continuing care for the faith and
defence of orthodoxy, and the status of apostolic see; second, to provide an interpretative
perspective on the conflicts that took place between 498 and 532 and in which the bishops of

18
T.F.X Noble, ‘A New Look at the Liber Pontificalis’, Archivum Historiae Pontificae, 23 (1985), pp.
347-58, sees the Liber partly as a textbook for the uninitiated and a ready reference for veterans, and
partly as an institutional history but his assessment is based on the notices from Boniface II to Leo III
(530-816) which were strictly contemporary. He says nothing about the reasons for the compilation of
the first edition.
19
Le Liber Pontificalis, ‘L’Histoire et La Chronologie des Papes’, pp. xxx-xxxii and pp. cxxxiii-cxl.
20
On the continuing divisions see D. Moreau, ‘Ipsis diebus Bonifatius, zelo et dolo ductus: The Root
Causes of the Double Papal Election of 22 September 530’ in Dunn (ed.), The Bishop of Rome in Late
Antiquity, pp. 177-95. Also, Geertman, ‘La genesi del Liber Pontificalis’, p. 45. Geertman suggests that
the forces behind the Laurentian schism were not spent.
21
Geertman, ‘La genesi del Liber Pontificalis’, p. 43.

30
their time were involved.22 He offers no explanation for P3 beyond observing that someone
considered it necessary to spell out the chronological and hierarchical relationship between the
first four popes.23

Rosamond McKitterick follows Geertman in accepting his identification of P as the first

edition, and in seeing the text as a ‘historia augusta’.24 She broadly accepts his date for the
compilation, c.535, although she thinks a case could be made for it being slightly later, 536/7.25
She argues that the Liber is a Christianised history of Rome, compiled as part of a strategy for
constructing popes as rulers of Rome in the place of emperors.26 She identifies imperial
biography as the model for the Liber: she argues that its structure is very similar to Suetonius’s
Lives of the Twelve Caesars and its continuators, the Kaisergeschichte (Aurelius Victor’s De
caesaribus, the anonymous Epitome de caesaribus, Eutropius’s Breviarium and the Historia
Augusta).27 In doing so, she privileges structure over content: whereas Duchesne identified the
Liberian Catalogue and martyr narratives as sources of the Liber’s structure and information,
she considers they simply provided the latter and asserts that structural models ‘are far more
significant for our understanding of the text as a whole’.28 However, she does not address the
more fundamental model or structure which, I consider, lies behind that Liberian Catalogue and
the Liber, i.e. the episcopal list.29 McKitterick also argues that the appropriate context for the
compilation of the first edition was the Ostrogothic Wars, or, more specifically, political
relations with Ostrogothic kings and Eastern emperors which popes needed to manage as they
developed their claim to temporal rule in Rome.30

Philippe Blaudeau follows the interpretations proposed by Geertman and McKitterick, although
he primarily sees the Liber as a text concerned with relations between Rome and
Constantinople. He accepts that the Laurentian schism prompted the compilation of the Liber
and he follows Geertman’s analysis. He accepts McKitterick’s argument that the Liber
belonged to a tradition reaching back to Suetonius, and he states that ‘Its subject was none
other than the head of the institution that stepped into the shoes of imperial power,
concentrating in the urbs the display of its religious power, and establishing, with the urbs at its

22
Geertman, ‘La genesi del Liber Pontificalis’, p. 43:
23
Geertman, ‘La genesi del Liber Pontificalis’, p. 45.
24
See McKitterick, ‘Roman Texts and Roman History’, pp. 19-34; also, her chapter, ‘The representation
of Old Saint Peter’s basilica in the Liber Pontificalis’ in R. McKitterick, J. Osborne, C.M. Richardson
and J. Story (eds) Old Saint Peter’s, Rome, (Cambridge, 2013), pp. 95-96.
25
Specifically, to after the death of Pope Agapetus in 536. See McKitterick, ‘Roman Texts and Roman
History’, pp. 19-20.
26
Expressed fully by McKitterick in these terms in ‘The representation of Old Saint Peter’s’, p. 96.
27
McKitterick, ‘Roman Texts and Roman History’, pp. 29-33.
28
McKitterick, ‘Roman Texts and Roman History’, p. 30.
29
Duchesne discussed the Liberian Catalogue and episcopal lists at some length in Chapter 1 of Le Liber
Pontificalis, pp. i-xxxii.
30
For this see McKitterick’s statements on pp. 20 and 23-24 in ‘Roman Texts and Roman History’.

31
centre, an efficient network of command and representation’.31 Blaudeau brings to his
interpretation of the Liber significant knowledge of relations between the churches of Rome
and Constantinople in this period, and his view that, starting with the pontificate of Leo I (440-
61), the papacy initiated a project to assert its primacy over the East.32 Among some wide-
ranging observations, he suggests that the editors promoted Leo positively, that their aim in
narrating the Acacian schism was to show Rome at the centre of affairs, and that they sought to
assert emperors’ acceptance of popes’ claims in their accounts of the receptions of Hormisdas’s
embassy in 519 and of Pope John I in Constantinople in 526.33 He considers that the Liber
shows an awareness of transformations underway between the reigns of Leo I and John II: in
particular it underlined the papal claim to exercise in the East a primacy founded on the
principle of condemning any resurgence of miaphysitism. He suggests that the Liber offered the
reader an aide-mémoire of pre-Justinianic reconquest relations between Rome and
Constantinople, and that it affirmed that the glory of the apostolic see only acquired its true
meaning when set in the perspective of its activities in respect of the East.34

Historians who have suggested other reasons for the Liber’s composition include Kate Blair
Dixon, Deborah Deliyannis and Samuel Cohen, the first of whom follows Duchesne closely,
while the latter two adhere to Geertman’s structural analysis. Blair Dixon is mainly concerned
to compare the Liber and the Collectio Avellana; she suggests that what the two texts have in
common is an interest in schisms: ‘the LP (sic) was written, re-edited, and continued with an
interest in schisms’.35 Although she considers that the Collectio presents a defence of the
bishop of Rome as a keeper of orthodoxy and the defender of Roman primacy, she makes no
similar claim for the Liber. Deliyannis’ more recent article on the Liber suggests that papal
relations with Constantinople, specifically the Acacian schism, were an additional stimulus to
the Laurentian schism for the Liber’s compilation.36 Additionally, she argues that the Liber
presented a new argument for Rome’s primacy based on doctrinal purity, i.e. the record for
orthodoxy of its bishops. Importantly, she notes the argument for primacy was developed in
Pope Hormisdas’s libellus, which required acknowledgement that the Catholic religion had
always been preserved untainted by the apostolic see, for which the Liber provided
corroborating evidence. She suggests that the Liber formed part of the background preparation

31
P. Blaudeau, ‘Narrating Papal Authority (440-530): The Adaptation of the Liber Pontificalis to the
Apostolic See’s developing claims’ in Dunn (ed.), The Bishop of Rome in Late Antiquity, pp. 127-40;
quotation on p.128.
32
See Blaudeau, ‘Rome contre Alexandrie?’, pp. 140-216, especially 140-45.
33
Blaudeau, ‘Narrating Papal Authority’, pp. 138-40.
34
Blaudeau, ‘Narrating Papal Authority’, p.140.
35
K. Blair Dixon, ‘Memory and Authority in Sixth-Century Rome: the Liber Pontificalis and the
Collectio Avellana’ in Cooper and Hillner (eds.), Religion, Dynasty and Patronage, pp. 59-76 but
especially p. 66 and pp. 69-70.
36
D. Deliyannis, ‘The Roman Liber Pontificalis, Papal Primacy and the Acacian Schism’, Viator 45(2)
(2014), pp. 1-16.

32
for Hormisdas’s embassies to Constantinople in 516 and 519. Cohen focuses on six
appearances in the Liber of popes acting against Manichaeans and suggests that they represent
a small discursive project intended to represent the Roman Church as the defender of
orthodoxy, and to stress its independence from imperial interference.37 He acknowledges
Laurentian schism as the immediate context for the Liber but considers that it was also
influenced by the disputed election of 530 and the Ostrogothic Wars.

In this chapter I offer a different perspective to those detailed above. I find Geertman’s
structural analysis persuasive, although I disagree with aspects of his interpretations of the three
phases which I discuss below. I do not agree with McKitterick’s argument that the Liber was an
alternative, Christianised history of Rome designed to prepare the way for the popes to become
secular rulers in Rome; as I show below, insofar as it was a history, it was one of the Roman
Church as an institution, not a history of the city. As I show, in essence the Liber concerned
the Church as an ecclesiastical institution. Blaudeau is correct in suggesting that the Liber
should be understood in context, and that from 451 the Roman Church was asserting its
doctrinal primacy. However, I do not agree that the editors presented Leo I positively, and I
think that popes had less agency than Blaudeau suggests. I consider the more immediate
problem was not the resurgence of miaphysitism, which popes could not tackle on their own,
but the need to establish and maintain the claim to doctrinal primacy in the face of the
challenge from eastern emperors. I suggest that Deliyannis is far more on point in suggesting
that the relations with Constantinople were a stimulus for the Liber’s compilation, but I express
this as a challenge to Rome’s claim to primacy on doctrine, and I consider the co-stimulus to
be, not the Laurentian schism, but the fallout from the demise of western emperors. One flaw
with the idea that the Laurentian schism stimulated the Liber is the fact that the account appears
in P2 and not in P1. Kate Blair-Dixon’s statement that editors had interest in schisms has been
frequently quoted but the types of schism need to be distinguished: the majority were double
elections which raised an internal constitutional issue which the editors touched on in the text
in ways quite different to their treatment of the Acacian schism.38

Argument and Methodology

I argue that the first edition of the Liber had its origins in, and reflected the reactions of
members of the Roman Church to two major institutional challenges, the demise of the line of
western emperors and the emperor Zeno’s Henotikon. The editors responded in several ways.
First, they sought to promote the authority of the bishop of Rome. Second, they attempted to

37
S. Cohen, ‘Schism and the Polemic of Heresy: Manichaeism and the Representation of Papal
Authority in the Liber Pontificalis’ in Journal of Late Antiquity, 8(1) (2015), pp. 195-230.
38
K. Blair-Dixon, ‘Memory and authority in sixth-century Rome: the Liber Pontificalis and the Collectio
Avellana’ in Cooper and Hillner (eds.), Religion, Dynasty and Patronage, p. 66.

33
strengthen the Church’s claim to doctrinal primacy as a core part of its identity. Third, they
sought to advance the interests of the clergy: for instance, they showed that their promotion of
episcopal authority was conditional on its being exercised with their consent.

Methodologically, I accept and make use of Geertman’s structural analysis and I consider the
content of the Liber in context. I consider his palaeographic analysis and division of the first
edition into three editorial phases to be persuasive, but I differ in my interpretation of each
phase, and I do not consider that the phases are as discrete as he implies. Whereas he suggests
that in P1 the editors aimed to present popes as administrators and patrons worthy of
comparison with emperors, and to produce a papal history comparable to an imperial one, I
argue that they sought to promote the authority of the bishop within the Church, and to assert
the doctrinal primacy of the Roman Church. While he considers that the editors of P2 set out to
assert the independence of the bishop or Rome, the status of the Church and its defence of
orthodoxy, I show that they intensified the assertion of doctrinal primacy, that they indicated
that support for the bishop’s authority was conditional on it being exercised with the clergy’s
agreement, and that they tentatively pointed to acceptable roles for secular rulers in the Church.
Geertman notes the additional information on the first four popes in P3 but offers little by way
of explanation; I argue that in their ‘retouching’ of P2, the editors of the final phase sought to
strengthen the claim for doctrinal primacy, that they constructed a new argument for
jurisdictional primacy, and that they claimed a Petrine mandate for the papal administration. I
also show that the editorial phases are not as discrete and Geertman would suggest: the editors
of all three phases argued for the Church’s doctrinal primacy on the basis of the martyrial
record of bishops of Rome.

In interpreting the Liber, I place the content in its historical context. I consider that the editors
assumed a deep shared history with the reader and the text cannot be fully appreciated without
an understanding of context. The wording is often brief and the language on occasion technical
or specific. A prime example is the term ‘executrix’ in the account of the Acacian schism in the
life of Pope Simplicius, which Raymond Davis translates as ‘took official action’.39 Instead, I
suggest, that the editor intended the reader to understand the basis for the Church’s action
against Peter Mongos: the Roman Church considered it was the executor of the decision of the
Council of Chalcedon. Gelasius used the term in a similar way when writing to the Dardanian
bishops in 496 about Acacius: ‘Ponamus tamen etiamsi nulla synodus praecessisset, cuius
apostolica sedes recte fieret executrix.’40 The analysis and interpretations that follow are
predicated on the assumption that an understanding of context is necessary.

39
Davis, The Book of Pontiffs, Life 49.3, p.40 (3rd edn); LP 49.3: ‘Eodem tempore fuit ecclesia, hoc est
prima sedis apostolica, executrix’.
40
Collectio Avellana, 95.49.

34
In the sections that follow, I address the four editorial objectives that I consider are apparent in
the text: first, the promotion of the authority of the bishop in the Roman Church (Section 1);
second, the assertion of doctrinal and jurisdictional primacy (Section 2); third, the promotion of
the interests of the clergy (Section 3); fourth, the editors’ attempts to mould Church-secular
ruler relationships (Section 4). A final section (Section 5) considers the authors and the
audience. I argue that the assertion of the authority of the pope in Rome (Section 1) was a
response to situation that resulted from the demise of western emperors, and the major pre-
occupation with doctrinal primacy (Section 2) a reaction to the challenges from eastern
emperors that started with Zeno’s Henotikon. I suggest that Section 3 provides a different
insight on the clergy and on bishop-clergy relations. In addition, I argue that Section 4 shows
that, following 476, the Church and secular rulers had to re-establish, or be more conscious
about, their relationship.

Section 1: Promoting the Authority of the Bishop of Rome (Phase 1)

I argue that a major objective of the editors of P1 was to construct an image of the bishop as the
source of authority in the Roman Church, and that this objective is to be understood as a
response to the challenge of the new environment in which the Church found itself after 476.
The editors attributed to almost all the popes a form of authority or activities, whether making
decisions on discipline, introducing liturgical innovations, determining the organisation of the
church (all of which I classify as ‘ordinary decisions or decrees’), issuing decrees de ecclesia or
de omne ecclesia, constructing churches or otherwise patronising them. The editors particularly
attributed to popes decisions that contributed to two defining features of the Roman Church, the
Roman Mass and its organisation. The editors present these decisions or actions as exercises in
authority. In many cases there is no evidence for these statements other than in the Liber. The
facts that the editors claim that almost all popes acted authoritatively in one way or another,
and that some statements are contradicted by other evidence, point to a concerted attempt to
construct the image of the bishop of Rome as one of authority and power. I consider that this a
response to the loss of the support structure that had existed before 476 and had previously
underpinned the position of the bishop in Rome.

In Table 2.1 I show the incidence of attribution.41 I have grouped claims in the Liber into
categories: discipline, liturgy, organisation and decrees de (omne) ecclesia. For current
purposes I include under ‘Liturgy’ not only new elements in the Roman Mass, but also rules
relating to the conduct of services and organisational arrangements such as Pope Simplicius’s

41
See the Appendix (Tables), pp. 172-74.

35
provision of clergy for the conduct of services at St Peter’s, St Paul’s and St Laurence’s.42
Discipline refers to behavioural rules other than those pertaining to the conduct of services. I
discuss decrees de (omne) ecclesia in the next section on doctrinal primacy. The overwhelming
use of constituit, constituit ut or fecit constitutum for these decisions is noticeable.

I suggest that the terms constituit (ut) and fecit constitutum were intended to imply that the
decisions were equal to papal decretals and/or conciliar decisions. The editors invariably
introduced ordinary decisions with consitituit or constituit ut, although there are two examples
of such decrees where they use fecit constitutum. 43 For some organisational measures they used
dividit, fecit, or praecepit but they also used constituit and fecit constitutum. They introduced
all decrees de ecclesia and decrees de omnia ecclesia with fecit constitutum. Duchesne
considered fecit constitutum was consistent with contemporary usage for papal decrees:
Dionysius Exiguus used constituta in his prefaces to his Codex Canonum and Collectio
Decretorum Pontificum Romanorum to refer to decisions of both councils and popes.44 In
letters both Popes Celestine and Leo I used constituta together with decretalia.45 It is possible
that the editors intended the usage to resonate with constitutiones, ‘a term embracing all forms
of imperial legislation’.46 In an introductory edict to his Codex the emperor Justinian referred to
abridging the multitude of constitutions (constitutionum) recorded in three ancient codices.47 I
suggest that the etymology is close enough to support the view that the editors intended
constituit (ut) and fecit constitutum to imply decisions on a par with papal decretals and
conciliar decisions. It also seems probable that they would have been happy with a possible
resonance with imperial law.

Decrees affecting the Roman Church (Ordinary Decrees)

Ordinary decrees relate to practice in Rome and the editors specifically show popes to
responsible for the Church’s liturgy and its organisation. A significant number of the measures
relate to the development of the Roman Mass, the central ritual of the Church. The Liber states
that Pope Alexander (c.109-c.116) was responsible for inserting the Lord’s Passion into the
Mass, and Sixtus I (c.116-c.125) and Caelestius (422-27) subsequently instructed that the

42
LP 49.2.
43
LP 36.3 and 43.1. The two examples are Julius and Zosimus: ‘constitutum fecit ut nullus clericus
causam quamlibet public agere’ and ‘fecit constitutum ut diacones leva tecta haberent de palleis
linostimis’.
44
Dionysius Exiguus, Collectio Decretorum Pontificum Romanorum, PL 67, col. 0231A; Codex
Canonum Ecclesiasticorum, PL 67, col. 0142A; Le Liber Pontificalis, ‘Les Sources’, p. cxxviii (69).
45
Celestine, PL 50, col. 436A: ‘Quae enim a nobis res Digna servabitur, si decretalium norma
constitutorum … frangatur’; Leo, PL 54, col. 614B: ‘omnia decretalia constituta tam beatae recordationis
Innocentis quam omnium decessorum nostrorum’. Both references are quoted by Jasper and Fuhrmann,
Papal Letters in the Early Middle Ages, pp. 17 and 22.
46
Glossary, The Codex of Justinian, ed. by B. W. Frier et al, based on a translation by Justice Fred H.
Blume (Cambridge, 2016), vol. 3, p. 3059.
47
Justinian to Menas, April 529, c.1, The Codex of Justinian, vol. 1, p. 7.

36
Gloria in Excelsis Deo and 150 psalms of David were to be sung before the sacrifice.48 Popes
are also shown to have determined the ritual around the celebration of Mass: decisions that the
sacrifice was to be celebrated over the memorials of martyrs and that altar coverings should be
linen were attributed to Felix I (269-74) and Silvester (314-35).49 Zephyrinus (198-217)
decreed how the liturgy should be conducted in a way that reflected hierarchy: glass patens
should held by ministers standing in front of sacerdotes, who themselves were to stand in front
of the bishop while he celebrated Mass. Moreover, subject to episcopal dispensation, the clergy
had to remain for the entire service.50 The ritual unity of the Church was ensured by the
institution of fermentum, the distribution of the consecrated host by the bishop to priests in the
various tituli. Miltiades (311-14) was credited with introducing the practice, Siricius (384-99)
with instructing that no titular priest should celebrate Mass without receiving it.51 Other matters
of the liturgy were covered: deacons were to use dalmatics in church, as was any person
burying a martyr; objects used for ministry were only to be used by ministers. No monk or
woman was to touch or wash a consecrated pall, and only a minister could place incense in the
church.52

The Organisation of the Church

The editors of P1 also placed popes at the centre of its development of the Church and in the
process outlined its organisational structure. The core functional units, other than the bishop,
were the deacons and priests. The editors allocated to the distant past the initial establishment
of their positions by a pope. Evaristus (c.100-10) ‘divided the tituli in Rome among the priests
and ordained seven deacons to watch over the bishop when preaching to safeguard the
expression of the truth’.53 Fabian (236-50) was said to have divided the regions among the
deacons, and to have established seven sub-deacons to watch over seven notaries in order that
they might faithfully record the acts of the martyrs in their entirety.54 Dionysius (260-67) gave
churches to priests and organised cemeteries and parishes as dioceses.55 Marcellus (306-09) is
reported to have organised the 25 tituli, over which priests presided, as ‘dioceses for the
baptism and repentance of many converts from paganism and for the burial of martyrs’.56 The
wider clerical membership of the Church, and the sense of its hierarchy, were conveyed by the

48
LP 7.2, 8.3 and 45.1.
49
LP 27.2 and 34.7.
50
LP 16.2.
51
LP 33.2 and 40.2.
52
LP 24.3, 28.2, and 44.5.
53
LP 6.2: ‘Hic titulos in urbe Roma dividit presbiteris et VII diaconos ordinavit qui custodirent
episcopum praedicantem propter stilum veritatis’.
54
LP 21.2: ‘Hic regiones dividit diaconibus et fecit VII subdiaconos qui VII notariis inminerent, ut
gestas martyrum in integro fideliter colligerent’.
55
LP, 26.2: ‘Hic presbiteris ecclesias dedit et cymiteria et parrocias diocesis constituit’.
56
LP, 31.2 ‘Hic fecit ... XXV titulos in urbe Roma constituit, quasi diocesis, propter baptismum et
paenitentiam multorum qui convertebantur ex paganis et propter sepulturas martyrum’.

37
cursus honorum, which was outlined in the lives of Popes Gaius (282-95) and Silvester (314-
35).57 The cursus stated the different grades (reader, exorcist, acolyte, sub-deacon, guardian of
martyrs, deacon and priest) and years of experience necessary in each before elevation to
bishop was possible. The role of the primicerius notariorum and a major function of his
section, the drawing up of all documents in the church, were also mentioned for the first time in
the life of Pope Julius (337-52) although they more probably reflected the actual position in the
early sixth century.58

The Attribution of Ordinary Decrees

The editorial desire to show individual popes as authoritative was, I consider, underscored by
an attribution of specific measures to the bishops, which in some cases was not supported by
evidence or was contrary to it. Duchesne long ago established that the attribution to particular
popes was highly doubtful and, in some cases, their content had been taken from apocryphal
canons.59 Of the twenty decrees that the editors attributed to popes between Siricius (384-99)
and Hilarus (461-68), he found that only two could be matched to the popes with whom they
had been identified.60 Instead, he identified a significant number of entries with ‘canons’ in the
Constitutum Silvestri and the Synod of 275 Bishops, two extant documents of Symmachan
apocrypha.61 Joseph Jungmann has similarly observed that the assignment of the introduction of
the Gloria to Pope Telesphorus (c.130) was pure fiction, as Hilary of Poitiers probably
introduced it into the West after 359-60.62 The only slightly chronologically credible entry for
an organisational development is the statement that Pope Fabian (236-50) divided the regions
among the deacons, as that appears in the Liberian Catalogue (compiled c.354).63 I suggest that
these allocations reveal not just a wish to promote the line of bishops of Rome but that there
was also a specific content that editors wanted to include and they were not troubled by the
needs of historical accuracy. This desire to promote the authority of bishops was also apparent
in the detailing of papal constructions, although, given the nature of the evidence, these
attributions may have been more accurate.

57
LP 29.2 and 34.8, pp.161 and 171-72.
58
LP 36.3. The attribution to Julius’s pontificate may be another example of providing a lineage to
offices. The existence of the Roman Church’s primicerius notariorum and his deputy, the secundicerius,
is otherwise first known from a letter sent by Dionysius Exiguus in 526 to Boniface and Notus, the
holders of those positions. Dionysius Exiguus, Epistola II Scripta Anno Christi Vulgari 526 (sic), PL 67,
col 0023B.
59
Le Liber Pontificalis, p. cxl.
60
Le Liber Pontificalis, p. cxxxiii.
61
Le Liber Pontificalis, pp. cxxxvii-cxl.
62
J. Jungmann, The Mass of the Roman Rite (London/New York, 1959), p. 238, n.2.
63
Liberian Catalogue, Le Liber Pontificalis, p. 4.

38
Church Constructions

The editors used papal construction and patronage as indicators of authority, and to show how
most, if not all, facets of the Roman Church were attributable to popes.64 The construction of
public buildings in Rome in the late empire was the preserve of emperors and the upper stratum
of the senatorial class, and consequently papal constructions would have engendered some of
the prestige associated with imperial and senatorial display. I suggest that the editors of P1
attempted to capture this, but more revealing was their attribution of almost all constructions
and patronage to popes. They started to claim examples of popes’ constructions of basilicas and
cemeteries from the pontificate of Callistus onwards; they provided the most copious details for
the reigns of Sixtus III (432-40), Hilarus (461-68) and Symmachus (498-514). The imperial
patronage is only recorded in the life of Sixtus III and two of the three examples were partially
attributed to the pope: it was at the pope’s entreaty (supplicatione) and at his request (ex
rogatu), that Valentinian III presented an image with 12 portals. 12 apostles and the Saviour,
decorated with very precious jewels for the confessio at St Peter’s, and a silver fastigium
(colonnaded screen) to the Constantinian basilica; otherwise, unprompted, the emperor built a
silver confessio at St Paul’s.65 Similarly, P1 records only one example of aristocratic patronage
and even then the pope was given a significant intermediary role: the illustrious woman Vestina
directed that a basilica was to be constructed with the proceeds of her ornaments and pearls;
Innocent I established it as a titulus and endowed it with liturgical vessels and properties from
the bequest.66 This depiction of popes as the almost exclusive builders and patrons runs counter
to what we otherwise know. Constantine’s buildings, donations and endowments show a very
different picture but the information appears in P2. In Chapter 4 I show that patrons before 476
included emperors, aristocrats and clerics, as well as popes. I suggest that the presentation in P1
reflects a very determined effort by the editors to place the bishop at the centre of the Roman
Church, and to show multiple aspects of his authority.

If we need to understand the motivation behind the editors of P1’s desire to support the
authority of the bishop of Rome, I suggest decisions of the synods in Rome in 501 and 502,
which took place during the Laurentian schism, provide some indication, and give an insight
into the nature of papal authority at the time. The first synod, comprising bishops drawn from a
wider area than suburbicarian Italy, was instructed by the Ostrogothic king Theoderic to

64
I discuss papal constructions and patronage in Chapter 4.
65
LP 46.4: ‘Ex huius supplicatione optulit Valentianus Augustus imaginem auream cum XII portas et
apostolos XII et Salvatorem gemmis pretiosissimis ornamatam … Fecit autem Valentinianus Augustus
ex rogatu Xysti episcopi fastidium argenteum in basilica Constantiana…’
66
LP 42.3: ‘Quae femina suprascripta [Vestina] testamenti paginam sic ordinavit ut basilica sanctorum
martyrum ex ornamentis et margaritis construeretur … In quo loco beatissimus Innocentius ex
delegatione inlustris feminae Vestinae titulum Romae constituit et in eodem dominico optulit [dona]’. A
list of gifts follows, comprising liturgical vessels (LP 42.4-5) and properties with an annual income of
1016 solidi (LP 42.6).

39
consider the charges raised against Pope Symmachus. Despite being pressed by Theoderic, the
bishops decided they could not judge the pope, as ‘according to the canons, appeals of all
bishops are entrusted to him, and since he is appealing, what is to be done? … and the pontiff
of this see cannot be tried before us according to any precedent’.67 From this developed the
fundamental principle that a pope could not be judged (papa a nemine iudicatur).68 The second
synod annulled a scriptura (instruction) that had been issued in 483 by the praetorian prefect
Basilius on behalf of King Odoacer and with the consent of Pope Simplicius; inter alia, it had
declared that church property, given in the hope of salvation and for the repose of souls, was
not to be alienated under the threat of anathema.69 The synod confirmed the views of bishops
Laurentius of Milan, Petrus of Ravenna and Eulalius of Syracuse that, as a layman had issued it
and bishop of Rome had not endorsed it, the scriptura was invalid. Symmachus was then
invited to declare the law anew: ‘as it is in your power to arrange what is to follow’.70

We know that two of the leaders, Laurentius of Milan and Petrus of Ravenna, who were not
members of the Church of Rome and had previously withdrawn from communion with
Symmachus, supported him, although we do not know why they did.71 Avitus of Vienne,
writing at almost exactly the same time to the senators Faustus and Symmachus and on the
same issue, provides an answer. He supported the principle of non-justiciability of the pope: ‘if
the bishop of Rome is called into question, the episcopate itself, not just a bishop, will seem to
be wavering’.72 I argue that the decisions of the synods and Avitus’s letter show that parties
outside the Roman Church had, in certain circumstances, an interest in maintaining the position
of the bishop of Rome and even enhancing it. If that was the case for external parties, the point
must apply a fortiori to members of the Church, for whom the bishop of Rome’s authority was
critical insofar as he represented their Church. I suggest that in the period after 476, when the
Church was less supported by the administration of the western empire, there was a perceived

67
The decision not to pronounce judgement on Symmachus was taken at the Palmaris Synod in October
501 but the reasoning is laid out in an earlier report to Theoderic dated after 27 August 501: ‘quoniam
ipsi per canones appellationes omnium episcoporum commissae sunt, et cum ipse appellat, quid erit
faciendum? … et pontificem sedis istius apud nos audiri nullo constat exemplo’ — Relatio Episcoporum
ad Regem, Acta Synhodorum Habitarum Romae, DI (501) in T. Mommsen (ed.), Variae Cassiodori
senatoris, Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Auctores Antiquissimi, xii, (Berlin, 1894), p. 423 (para.10).
The subsequent synod decided it was a matter for divine judgement: ‘Symmachus papa sedis apostolicae
praesul ab huiusmodi propositionibus inpetitus quantum ad homines respecit, quia totum causis
obsistentibus superius designatis constat arbitrio divino fuisse dimissum, sit inmunis et liber’, Acta
Synhodorum Habitarum Romae, DI, para. 24, p.431.
68
Canning, A History of Medieval Political Thought, p. 32.
69
Acta Synhodorum Habitarum Romae, DII, in Mommsen (ed.), Variae Cassiodori senatoris pp.443-55.
70
Acta Synhodorum Habitarum Romae, DII, para. 12, p. 448: ‘Scimus provisionem vestram necessariis
studere et ideo in vestra est potestate sequenda disponere’.
71
On the withdrawal of Laurentius and Petrus from communion see MGH, Auctores Antiquissimi, vii, p.
59, quoted by Richards, The Popes and the Papacy, p. 91, n.46.
72
Avitus, Ep. 34, trans. D. Shanter and I. Wood (eds.), Avitus of Vienne: Letters and Selected Prose,
Translated Texts for Historians, no. 38 (Liverpool, 2002), p. 162.

40
need to promote the authority of the bishop of Rome. I suggest that this was one of the authors’
concerns when they compiled the first edition of the Liber.

Section 2: Assertions of Doctrinal and Jurisdictional Primacy

Another objective of the editors of first edition was to assert the doctrinal and jurisdictional
primacy of the Roman Church. The assertion in regard to the former was a response to Emperor
Zeno’s Henotikon (482) which precipitated the Acacian schism. The claim is evident in P1, and
the editors of P2 and P3 pressed it further. The editors of P1 asserted doctrinal primacy in three
ways. First, by claiming that popes issued decrees (constituta) de ecclesia and de omne ecclesia
they presented historic examples of popes exercising leadership on doctrinal issues. Second, by
claiming that a majority of the popes between St Peter and Miltiades (311-14) were martyrs,
and that a number of other popes after Miltiades sought out heresy and/or heretics, they
asserted a record of orthodoxy which underpinned a supplementary argument for primacy, i.e.
that the apostolic see had always preserved the Catholic faith immaculately. Third, they
presented a new argument that Peter was the source of all four gospels and, by inference, his
successors were the custodians of orthodoxy. The editors of P2 and P3 enhanced the record of
popes as martyrs. Those of P2 also brought into play the argument inherent in the statement the
Church was the sedes apostolica, while those of P3 asserted that Peter was the source of all
orthodoxy by positioning him against Simon Magus. The formulations of these assertions of
doctrinal primacy need to be understood in the context of the Acacian schism and emperors’
continuing attempts to define doctrine. The fact that all three sets of editors addressed the issue
points to its enduring importance. The editors of P3 also constructed a claim for the bishop of
Rome’s jurisdictional primacy, a claim which I discuss at the end of this section.

Decrees De Ecclesia and De Omne Ecclesia

I consider that editorial statements in P1 that popes issued decrees (constituta) de ecclesia and
de omne ecclesia were intended to assert the Roman Church’s doctrinal primacy. While we
cannot be completely certain as to the subject matter of these decrees, there are good reasons to
think they concerned the pope’s authority on doctrine. Terminology and the presence of
‘ordinary decisions/decrees’ suggest that these two other classes were intended to refer to those
that applied outside Rome, with decrees de ecclesia probably purporting to have effect in the
Latin West, and those de omnia ecclesia supposedly having effect in the East as well. The
historical record points to a limited number of decisions or decrees that could have fallen in
these categories: the dating of Easter, the treatment of returning apostates and the related issue
of re-baptism, heresy and Christological disputes. However, as I show in Table 2.2, there is

41
almost no correspondence between popes to whom the editors attribute constituta de (omne)
ecclesia and the popes who, we know from other sources, made decisions on Easter, apostates
and re-baptism.73 Clearly, the editors may have attributed the decrees in the same calculated
fashion that they did with the ordinary decrees. However, as Geertman points out, ‘decisions
about the whole church occupy a special place and always come specially mentioned’. 74 I
suggest that it is reasonable to assume that that this treatment entailed a degree of chronological
accuracy. In addition, a majority of these decrees can be identified with pronouncements of
Roman bishops on doctrine.

A majority of the statements that popes made these decrees are free-standing, with no
supplementary explanation as to what they concern. The editors state that five popes (Pius I,
Zephyrinus, Damasus, Anastasius I and Hilarus) issued decrees de ecclesia, and seven
(Silvester, Mark, Siricius, Innocent I, Celestine, Felix III, and Gelasius I) issued decrees de
omne ecclesia. There are five cases where other words follow but only two are helpful. In the
life of Hilarus, mention of the decree de ecclesia is followed by ‘ad sancta Maria’, which
probably identifies a series of decisions given to Spanish bishops following a synod at Rome.75
Siricius’s constitutum is followed by ‘vel contra omnes hereses et exparsit per universum
mundum’ (‘that is to say, against every heresy and he broadcast it through the whole world’),
which can be taken as indicating the nature of the decree.76 Otherwise, in the lives of
Zephyrinus, Innocent I and Celestine, additional words appear to follow but ‘et’ or ‘vel’ is
interposed, which could imply additional decrees or be interpreted as adding emphasis to the
subsequent explanation. The words that follow in the lives of Zepherinus and Innocent do not
suggest that they explain decrees affecting the (entire) church: the former, which rules on
liturgical arrangements in Rome, and the latter, which refers to monastic regulations, hardly
qualify as decisions affecting the whole church.77 Celestine’s constitutum is followed by
‘maxime et religione, quas hodie archibo ecclesiae detenentur reconditae’ but the plurals in the
relative clause again indicate that the additional words refer to a different decree.78

Four of the five decrees de ecclesia can be can be linked to popes’ actions against heresy and/or
Christological disputes. The inclusions of Pius I (c.145) and Zephyrinus (198-217) among the
popes who issued constituta de ecclesia are now only intelligible in terms of the information
which is contained in Eusebius’ History of the Church and/or Irenaeus’ Irenaeus, Adversus

73
See the Appendix (Tables), pp. 175-78.
74
Geertman, ‘La Genesi del Liber Pontificalis’, p. 40.
75
LP 48.1. I discuss the synod below, pp. 55-56.
76
LP 40.1.
77
LP 16.2 and 42.1. In Innocent’s case ‘de omnem ecclesiam’ is followed by ‘et de regulis
monasteriorum, et de Iudaeis et de paganis’. I suggest that ‘constitutum’ only covers ‘omnem ecclesiam’,
and that other ‘constituta’ are implied for each of the other categories.
78
LP 45.1.

42
Haereses.79 We know from Eusebius that Pius was pope when Marcion of Pontus was active in
Rome.80 Marcion argued, inter alia, that it was inconceivable that Jesus could have been born of
Mary. Pius may have presided over the synod of presbyters which expelled Marcion from the
orthodox communion.81 Eusebius also recounts Zephyrinus’s handling of Adoptionism, which
promoted the idea that Christ was merely human, and was adopted as the Son of Man at his
baptism.82 Based on their entries in the History, these two examples point to a possible
Christological theme. While there are a number of reasons why the editors may have wished to
mention Damasus (366-84), a connection can be made to the Christological theme. Rufinus, in
his continuation of Eusebius’s History of the Church, mentions that Damasus sought to
suppress Apollinarianism, which taught that Christ assumed a body on his Incarnation.83 In
377 Damasus presided over a synod that rejected this teaching in Rome, a decision that was
subsequently supported by the First Council of Constantinople (381), at which it was the main
theological issue.84 Anastasius I’s pontificate (399-401) was short but included a synod which
condemned Origen’s teaching on Christ’s subordination to the Father.85 Hilarus’s decree de
ecclesia cannot be linked with a Christological theme, in so far as it is identified with the synod
of 485. However, he was Leo I’s delegate at Ephesus II (449), the synod to which Leo first sent
his Tome, and the editors separately stated that he issued a decretal (fecit decretalem) that was
disseminated throughout the East. The text also states that he wrote letters confirming the
synods of Nicea, Ephesus and Chalcedon and Pope Leo I’s Tome, each of which pronounced
on the nature and person of Christ.86

I suggest that actions against heresy and the Christological theme can be more clearly perceived
in four of seven constituta de omne ecclesia, but not in the cases of Mark, Felix III and
Gelasius. The life of Silvester (314-35) in P1 simply states that he issued a decree. The editors
of P2 add details of Nicea and his condemnation of Arius, Callistus, Photinus and Sabellius,
each of whom had an unorthodox position on Christ’s nature.87 Siricius (384-99)’s constitutum

79
Eusebius, History of the Church; Irenaeus, Adversus Haereses.
80
Eusebius, History of the Church, 4.11.1, 4.11.6f and 5.6.4, pp. 113-14, and 152.
81
Argued by J.N.D. Kelly and M.J. Walsh (eds.), Oxford Dictionary of Popes, (Oxford, 2010), p.6.
82
Eusebius, History of the Church, 5.28, pp. 175-78.
83
The Church History of Rufinus of Aquileia: Books 10 and 11, trans. P.R. Amidon (Oxford, 1997), pp.
77-78.
84
Davis, The First Seven Ecumenical Councils, p. 116.
85
Kelly and Walsh, Dictionary of Popes, p.33.
86
LP 48.1.
87
LP 34.5. Arius thought, inter alia, that the son was subordinate to the father; Photinus, bishop of
Sirmium, denied Christ’s pre-existence, his deity and his endless kingdom – see Chadwick, The Church
in Ancient Society, pp. 197 and 252. Sabellius, a modalist, allegedly taught that the Father, Son, and
Spirit were merely three modes or manifestations of one underlying divine reality; as a sect, modalists
denied that the Father, Son and Holy Spirit were different persons. It is strange to see Pope Callistus
(217-22) in this company. However, Callistus had initially been sympathetic to Sabellius and Hippolytus,
the pope’s contemporary, accused him of modalist tendencies. Hippolytus has an entry in Jerome’s De
inlustribus viris, while Callistus does not; Eusebius referred positively to the former’s writings but only
mentioned the latter in passing. It is possible that this negative view of Callistus prevailed in the early

43
may relate to his management of a Roman synod in 392/3 that excommunicated the monk
Jovinian, who questioned the post-partum virginity of Mary, or to his condemnation of
Bonosus, who claimed that Mary had more children with Joseph.88 On doctrinal matters,
Innocent I (401-17) is known for his handling of the Pelagian heresy; at the request of African
bishops he condemned Pelagius and his follower Caelestius.89 Pope Celestine (422-27)’s
decree almost certainly referred to his condemnation of the views of Nestorius, whose
challenge to Mary’s title of Theotokos (Mother of God) was interpreted as a denial of the
significance of Christ’s divinity for salvation: it was the highest profile issue in his pontificate:
nineteen of twenty-five extant letters in the Patrologia Latina sent by or to Celestine relate to
Nestorius and/or the First Council of Ephesus.90 He condemned Nestorius’s views at a Roman
synod in 430 before ceding control of the Council to Cyril of Alexandria.91

The connection with Christological disputes and heresy is tenuous or non-existent in the cases
of Mark, Felix III and Gelasius. Little is known about Mark’s pontificate and there are no
known decisions to which the decree can be linked. The editors state that the decree mentioned
in the life of Felix III (483-92) was issued by priests and deacons after his death. The
attribution to priests and deacons may be explained by the editors’ promotion of consensual
leadership which I discuss below.92 Felix himself excommunicated Acacius and the patriarchs
of Alexandria and Antioch, a decision that formally set in motion the Acacian schism which
has a strong Christological connection as it was prompted by attempts to revisit the definition
of the nature of Christ.93 It is difficult to know which decree or decision of Gelasius the editors
had in mind as there is no obvious decision to which they may have intended to refer. In
Chapter 3 I argue that the compiler used his letters on Pelagianism as an example of papal
leadership on doctrine. In the context of the Liber it is equally possible that the editors had in
mind Gelasius I’s letter to the bishops of Lucania, Bruttium and Sicily, also known as the
Decretum Generale, from which Dionysius Exiguous extracted 28 decretals at the beginning of
the sixth century.94 However, in summary, the majority of these examples, as with the decrees
de ecclesia, can be linked with specific measures; they indicate that the editors of the Liber
sought to show popes leading on doctrinal issues and against heresy.

sixth century. See The Cambridge Dictionary of Christian Theology (Cambridge, 2011), p. 318; Kelly,
Early Christian Doctrines, pp. 119-26; Jerome, On Illustrious Men, p.87; Eusebius, History of the
Church, 4.20, 4.21, 4.22.
88
Chadwick, The Church in Ancient Society, p. 327.
89
Collectio Avellana, Ep. 41; Chadwick, The Church in Ancient Society, p. 453.
90
Celestine’s Letters, PL 50, cols. 0407-0566B.
91
Davis, The First Seven Ecumenical Councils, p. 148. He observes at p. 16 that neither Celestine, nor
his successor ever formally confirmed the decision of the Council.
92
See below, pp. 54-58.
93
Felix III, Epp. 6-8, in A. Thiel (ed.), Epistolae Romanorum Pontificum Genuinae et Quae ad Eos
Scriptae Sunt: a S. Hilaro usque ad Pelagium II (Braunsberg, 1868), pp. 243-50.
94
Gelasius, Ep. 14, Epistolae Romanorum Pontificum, pp. 360-79. See also Neil and Allen, The Letters
of Gelasius I, pp. 141-42.

44
The simple statements that popes issued decrees concerning the Church or the entire Church are
assertions of authority in themselves, but, I suggest, there would have been a reasonably high
level of recognition, at least in ecclesiastical circles, of the anti-heretical associations and
Christological themes in some of these statements. In short, I consider there would have been
some understanding that some of these statements were implicit claims about the Roman
Church’s leadership on doctrine. The later fourth and fifth centuries saw a considerable interest
in heresy, orthodoxy and the nature of Christ, driven by a narrowing in the range of acceptable
theological views and the on-going Christological debate, fuelled from the mid-fifth century by
the miaphysite movement.95 Eusebius’s Ecclesiastical History had been available in Rufinus’s
Latin translation since the early fifth century. Jerome’s De viris illustribus, and Gennadius’s
continuation (similarly, De viris inlustribus) provided high-level, historical overviews with
their brief biographical notes of ecclesiastical figures and their writings up to the 380s and
c.495 respectively.96 In addition, the works of heresiologists, notably Epiphanius’s Panarion,
Filastrius’s Diversarum hereseon and Augustine’s De heresibus. and a number of other
‘handbooks’ on heresies that circulated in the West in the fifth and sixth centuries, attest to an
interest in heresy.97 Collectively, these show an extensive engagement on the subjects of heresy
and Christology and offer the possibility that even the standalone statement fecit constitutum de
(omne) ecclesia in some of the cases may have resonated with the reader as an assertion of
doctrinal primacy. I consider that these examples of papal leadership on doctrinal issues were
one of several means by which the editors sought to promote or protect the Roman Church’s
claim to primacy on doctrine; another was to claim that many popes had been martyrs.

Doctrinal Primacy: Martyr Popes

I argue that the editors of P1, and of the subsequent phases, sought to assert the Church’s right
to determine orthodox doctrine by claiming that a majority of popes were martyrs and, as the
opportunity for attributing martyrdom was more limited after 312, they made a similar assertion
for the later period by claiming that popes sought out heretics. In the early sixth century,
members of the Roman Church considered its record for orthodoxy to be a component of its
claim for doctrinal primacy; as a corollary of this, they were apt to point out the poor record of
Constantinople and the Eastern churches. The assertion of the Roman Church’s record was
strongly presented in Pope Hormisdas’s libellus which required eastern clergy, who wanted to

95
For the increasing restriction in theological debate see R. Lim, Public Disputation, Power, and Social
Order in Late Antiquity, Transformation of the Classical Heritage, no. 23 (Berkeley, 1995).
96
Jerome, Liber de viris illustribus, PL 23, cols. 632-761; On Illustrious Men. Gennadius, De viris
inlustribus, PL 58, cols. 1059-1120A; Lives of Illustrious Men, trans. with notes by P. Schaff and H.
Wace, Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church, Second Series, vol. 3 (Grand Rapids,
1969), pp. 385-402.
97
J. McClure, ‘Handbooks against Heresy in the West from the late fourth to the late sixth centuries’,
Journal of Theological Studies, 30(1) (1979), pp.186-197.

45
re-establish communion with Rome after the Acacian schism, to acknowledge that the apostolic
see had always preserved the catholic faith immaculately.98 I suggest that in drafting this claim,
Hormisdas and his advisers had in mind the influential statement by Irenaeus of Lyon in the
late second century that ‘… it is necessary for every church — that is, believers from
everywhere — to agree with this church, in which the tradition from the apostles has always
been preserved by those who are from everywhere, because of its more excellent origin’ (italics
added). 99 Popes tended to contrast this position with the record of eastern churches. Writing to
bishops in Dardania in 493, Gelasius observed that heresies abounded among the Greeks.100
The situation in the East from the 440s onwards, which saw the patriarchal sees undermined, if
not overwhelmed, by the miaphysite movement, might have given force to this argument. To
press the point home, Hormisdas’s libellus required signatories to anathematise Nestorius
(‘once bishop of Constantinople’), Acacius (also, ‘once bishop of Constantinople’), as well as
the miaphysites Timothy Allurus and Peter Mongos of Alexandria, and Peter the Fuller of
Antioch, and to follow the decision of Chalcedon (451) which condemned Eutychius, an
archimandrite of a monastery near Constantinople, and Dioscorus, the patriarch of
Alexandria.101 The libellus set out a clear contrast between Rome’s record and those of the
other major sees. I argue that the editors of the Liber sought to express this argument by
claiming that the majority of popes were martyrs and, after 312, that a number of popes sought
out heretics.102

I consider that the question of popes’ martyrdom was central to the editors’ concerns. In the
introductory letter to the Liber Jerome purportedly seeks to ‘learn which of the bishops of your
see deserved the crown of martyrdom and which of them is reckoned to have transgressed
against the apostles’. As the letter is present in most of the oldest manuscripts, and as in certain
respects it echoes the opening of Eusebius’ History of the Church, I suggest that it is reasonable

98
CA 116b.1: ‘quia in sede apostolica immaculata est semper catholica servata religio’.
99
Irenaeus, Against Heresies, III.2. I discuss this statement more fully in Chapter 1, pp. 12-13 and notes
13-15.
100
CA, 79.4: ‘apud Graecos, quibus multas haereses abundare non dubium est’.
101
CA 116b.2-3: ‘anathematizamus omnes haereses, praecipue Nestorium, …. Quondam
Constantinopolitanae fuit Urbis episcopus …….Eutychen et Dioscorum Alexandrinum in sancta synodo,
quam sequimur et amplectimur, Calcedonensi damnatos; his Timotheum adicientes parricidam Ellurum
cognomento et disciplum quoque ipsius atque sequacemin omnibus Petrum Alexandrium; itemque
condemnamus atque anathematizamus Acacium Constantinopitanum quondam ab apostolica sede
damnatum compilcem atque sequacem …….. Petrum nihilominus Antiochenum damnates cum
sequacibus suis et omnium supra scriptorium’.
102
Deborah Deliyannis interprets the statement in Hormisdas’s libellus that the Roman Church had
always preserved the Catholic religion immaculately as meaning that the current pope stood in a line of
unbroken succession from Peter. She sources the statement to Theodoret of Cyrrhus (d. 457), Ep. 116.
She goes on to say that ‘The heavy emphasis on the pre-Constantinian papal martyrs also serves to
demonstrate the superiority of the Roman see’s history’. See ‘The Roman Liber Pontificalis’, pp.7-8, p.
7, n. 29 and p.13.

46
to assume it was an integral feature of the first edition.103 At this stage we cannot attribute the
letter to any of the three editorial phases but, as a number of popes were stated in P1 to have
been martyred (usually expressed by ‘martyrio coronatur’), I consider that the concern, and
probably the letter, were present from the start. Further, the editorial intent in promoting popes
as martyrs can be seen in the extent to which claims went beyond what could have been
sustained in the early sixth century.

As I show in Table 2.3, the editors of P1 claimed that seventeen of the thirty-one bishops of
Rome who preceded Miltiades (310-14) were martyred.104 Of these seventeen, present-day
historians consider that eight were not martyred and three others (Alexander, Felix I and
Stephen I) were claimed as martyrs on the basis on mistaken identity.105 However, the editorial
intent should be judged on the basis of established or possible traditions of martyrdom at the
beginning of the sixth century. Documents that the editors may have accessed include the
Depositio Martyrum (a list of martyrs compiled as part of the Philocalian Calendar in 354), the
Communicantes prayer in the canon of the Mass (settled in the form we know it today in the
sixth century but would have been in existence in some form earlier), the so-called Leonine
Sacramentary (whose contents are almost exclusively Roman and which was probably
compiled at the end of the sixth century).106 Other possible sources are Gesta Martyrum (deeds
of Roman martyrs, many of which were composed between 475 and 550) and miscellaneous
works such as Irenaeus’s Against Heresies and Eusebius’s Ecclesiastical History.107 Of these
the Gesta are the most problematic, being ‘worthless as evidence’, but they may have revealed
an existing tradition or have helped to create one.108 Even after accepting uncritically any
evidence from these sources for an early sixth-century tradition of martyrdom, there remain

103
Eusebius set out the chief matters to be dealt with in the work, including ‘the names and dates of those
who through a passion for innovation have wandered … from the truth’ and the ‘heroism with which,
when the occasion demanded, men faced torture and death to maintain the fight in [defence of the divine
message]’. History of the Church, 1.16, p. 1.
104
The LP suggests 32 such bishops but as Cletus (No. 3) and Aneclitus (No. 5) were the same I have
contracted the figure to 31, ignoring No. 5. For Table 2.3 see the Appendix (Tables), pp. 179-82.
105
The eight popes are Linus, Cletus, Clement, Evaristus, Sixtus I, Victor, Callistus, and Anteros. The
martyrial status of these and other popes and the claims in the LP are discussed in their individual entries
in Kelly and Walsh (eds.), Dictionary of the Popes.
106
For the crystallisation of the Communicantes and Nobis quoque prayers, see V.L. Kennedy, The
Saints of the Canon of the Mass, Studi di antichità cristiana no. 14, 2nd edn. (Rome, 1963), pp. 195-204,
and A. Thacker, ‘Martyr Cults Within the Walls’, pp. 68-69. D.M. Hope, The Leonine Sacramentary: A
Reassessment of its Nature and Purpose, Oxford Theological Monographs (Oxford, 1971), p. 118, dates
the compilation of the sacramentary, which contains masses of some saints whose natales fell between
April and December, to the end of the sixth century.
107
In theory an addition source is the Martyrologium Hieronymianum, first compiled in Italy before the
middle of the fifth century, but in practice it offers no additional information. F. Lishitz, The Name of the
Saint: the Martyrology of Jerome and Access to the Sacred in Francia, 627-827, Publications in
Medieval Studies (Notre Dame, 2006), pp. 19-23, points out that all the manuscripts that have survived
date from the eighth century or later and that, while it was compiled from multiple sources, it appears to
have been heavily influenced by Aquileian and Burgundian traditions.
108
R.A. Markus, Gregory the Great and his World (Cambridge, 1997), p. 61.

47
five cases which lack any corroboration (Evaristus, Sixtus I, Victor, Anteros and Stephen I),
and for two of them (Anteros and Stephen) there would have been evidence to the contrary.109

The editors of P2 and P3 appear to have tried to further strengthen the claim by enhancing the
record of martyr popes. As I show in Table 2.3, the editors of P2 claimed that a further five
popes (Cornelius, Lucius, Marcellinus, Felix II and John I) were martyrs, that an additional two
(Urban and Gaius) were confessors and that another (Eutychian) buried 342 martyrs with his
own hands, which may have laid the foundation for his designation as a martyr in P3. The
editors of P3 claimed three more as martyrs (Anicetus and Gaius, in addition to Eutychian). Of
these eight, Cornelius and John I are the only popes for whom, I suggest, there would have
been some recognition of their martyrdoms at the time the P2 was written. Cornelius’s life in
the Liber was based principally on a passio written in the second half of the fifth century which
was ‘a work of pure fiction with no verifiable historical content’. 110 However, there was earlier
and later recognition. The Liberian Catalogue records that he died ‘with glory’; Jerome’s Vita
Pauli primi eremitae, composed in 379, referred to Cornelius suffering martyrdom at Rome
under the emperors Decius and Valerian.111 The Leonine Sacramentary, which would have
reflected an established tradition, contains a mass which celebrates both Cornelius and Cyprian
of Carthage as ‘saintly martyrs’.112 The death of John I (523-26) would have been very recent;
the statement that he died a martyr in custody is intelligible in the light of his mistreatment at
the hands of Theoderic.113 For the remaining six popes (Anicetus, Marcellinus, Lucius, Gaius,
Eustician and Felix II) there appears to have been little justification for their claimed martyrial
or confessor status. Four are listed in the Depositio Episcoporum, not the Depositio Martyrum,
which strongly implies that they were not considered martyrs in 354; and the Liber separately
and inconsistently claims that Felix II died in peace on the estate to which he retired.114
Marcellinus’s history would have been particularly problematic: an apocryphal account
circulated in the Laurentian schism declared him an apostate and, as such, he would have been
a major blemish on Rome’s record of orthodoxy. The Liber’s account, which may have been

109
The Liberian Catalogue states that Anteros had a natural death; Stephen I was listed in the Depositio
Episcoporum, not the Depositio Martyrum — see Kelly and Walsh, Dictionary of Popes, pp.13 and 17.
There are nine masses for a martyr Stephen in the Sacramentarium Veronense [ed. by L.C. Mohlberg
(Rome, 1956), paras. 671-703, pp. 85-89] but D.M. Hope, The Leonine Sacramentary, pp. 42-43, states
that these more properly relate to the proto-martyr. He discusses the pope’s ‘martyrdom’, pointing out,
inter alia, that the reference to the pope in the Life of Pope Leo IV (847-855) is to him as ‘pontiff’, not as
martyr, for which see R. Davis, The Lives of Ninth-Century Popes (Liber Pontificalis), Translated Texts
for Historians, no. 20 (Liverpool, 1995), p. 129, n. 2.
110
M. Lapidge, The Roman Martyrs: Introduction, Translations and Commentary, Oxford Early
Christian Studies (Oxford, 2017), p. 195.
111
Liberian Catalogue, Le Liber Pontificalis, p. 6; Jerome, PL 23, col. 19, quoted by Lapidge, The
Roman Martyrs, p. 196.
112
‘pro sanctorum martyrum Corneli et Cypriani sollemnitatibus’, Sacramentarium Veronense, para.
831, p. 104.
113
LP 55.6: ‘Qui tamen defunctus est Ravenna in custodia … martyr’.
114
Depositio Episcoporum and Depositio Martyrum, Le Liber Pontificalis, pp. 10-12. On Felix II, LP
37.5.

48
based on a lost passio, states that he repented and with others was ‘crowned with
martyrdom’.115 In total across the three phases and for the period up to 312, the editors claimed
twenty-four of thirty-one popes were martyrs including eleven for whom there was unlikely to
have been any tradition of martyrdom. For the period after 312, the editors sought to achieve
the same objective by claiming that particular popes found heretics or addressed heresy.

Doctrinal Primacy: Finding Heretics

For popes who reigned after Constantine had established the ‘Peace of the Church’, the
opportunity for attributing martyrdom was much more limited and, I suggest, editors sought to
achieve the same objective, i.e. asserting the orthodox record of the Church, by presenting
popes as opponents of heresy. As I show in Table 2.3, the claims that popes found heretics
commence in the pontificate of Eusebius, which very shortly preceded the Edict of Milan, and
chronologically follow all but one of the popes for whom martyrial status was claimed.116 In a
recent article Samuel Cohen identifies six incidences in the Liber of popes finding (invenit, or
the passive inventi sunt) Manichaeans in the city: in the lives of Popes Miltiades, Siricius,
Anastasius I, Gelasius, Symmachus and Hormisdas. He argues that the language of heresy was
an important part of the process of emphasising the bishop of Rome’s independence from
secular and imperial interference.117 He distinguishes the treatment of the last three popes from
the first three, noting that there was no evidence to support the later claims and arguing that
their ‘successes in the defence of orthodoxy acted as validation and as an explanation for their
status as the legitimate leaders of the Roman Church, and served to emphasise Rome’s
inevitable orthodoxy and continuity with the authentic faith.’118 I agree with much of the thrust
of Cohen’s argument but think that the editors were expressing a wider claim. Other popes also
found other heretics: Eusebius (c.310) found unspecified heretics; Innocent I (401-17) found
Cataphrygians (Montanists); Leo I (440-61) the Nestorian and Eutychian heresies.119 In
addition, I argue that the statements that popes found heretics served the same polemical
purpose as the claim that a significant number of popes were martyrs: both strands, which are
largely sequential, contributed to the argument that popes and the Roman Church had a strong
record of preserving the faith immaculately. A completely different assertion of doctrinal
primacy was made by the editors of P2 who asserted that the Roman Church was the sedes
apostolica.

115
LP 30.3; Kelly and Walsh, Dictionary of Popes, p. 21.
116
Eusebius’ dates are given variously as 308, 309 and 310, for which see Kelly and Walsh, Dictionary
of Popes, p. 22. Felix II (355-65) and John I (523-26) are the only two popes for whom martyrdom is
claimed after 312; these claims were made in P2.
117
Cohen, ‘Schism and the Polemic of Heresy’, pp. 205-06.
118
Cohen, ‘Schism and the Polemic of Heresy’, p. 224.
119
LP 32.2, 42.1, and 47.2.

49
Doctrinal Primacy: ‘Sedes apostolica’

I argue that in their account of the Acacian schism, the editors of P2 also asserted the Roman
Church’s doctrinal primacy by presenting it as the sedes apostolica. As the terms on which the
schism was settled show, it was fundamentally about papal primacy on doctrine, even if the
Roman bishops’ actions revolved around Acacius’s resumption of communion with Peter
Mongos and they justified the excommunications of the patriarchs of Constantinople,
Alexandria and Antioch by reference to the Council of Chalcedon.120 The account of the
schism, which stretches over pontificates from Simplicius to Hormisdas (468 to 523, but
excluding that of Symmachus (498-514)), is the longest narrative in the first edition. I argue
that the editors expressed the claim for doctrinal primacy with the multiple use of the term
‘sedes apostolica’. It appears twice in P1, in the life of Sixtus I.121 It then appears as sanctae
sedis catholicae apostolicae, in the life of Hilarus.122 In P2 it appears as apostolicae ecclesiae
Romanae in the life of Leo I;123 otherwise, sedes apostolica appears twenty- three times in P2,
of which seventeen occur when the subject matter is the Acacian schism, and two when other
significant interaction with Constantinople was reported. The first of the two other occasions
was Pope John I’s reception in Constantinople in 525.124 The second referred to the reception
of Justinian’s confession of faith in 533, which was on part of the exchange of letters by means
of which John II accepted the theopaschite formula.125 When used, the term frequently conveys
a sense of authority. Acacius, for example, appropriately reported Peter Mongus to Pope
Simplicius, and ‘the church, that is the first apostolic see, [became] the executor [of the
decision of Chalcedon]’.126 It appears in the passage which reports that Felix III
excommunicated Misenus and Vitalis after they had succumbed to bribery, and failed to carry
out their mission in Constantinople in the time leading up to the schism.127 Often, the term was
used when Rome was simply interacting with the emperor or Church of Constantinople.

The earliest recorded use of the term sedes apostolica was in a letter of Pope Liberius to
Eusebius of Vercelli in 354.128 I suggest its use in the Liber should be understood in the context
of the sparring between Rome and Constantinople since 380 on the principle of precedence
within the wider Church: whether it should be determined by reference to their apostolic status
(the principle of apostolicity) or in accordance with the imperial arrangements (the principle of

120
See Gelasius, Ep. 1, Epistolae Romanorum Pontificum, pp. 287-311 and Neil and Allen, The Letters
of Gelasius I, pp. 83-108.
121
LP 8.2.
122
LP 48.1.
123
LP 47.3 (Leo I).
124
LP 55.2.
125
LP 58.1.
126
LP 49.3. See p. 34 above on the use of the term executrix.
127
LP 50.2.
128
Blaudeau, Le Siège de Rome, p. 197.

50
accommodation).129 As I state in Chapter 1, by the end of the second century an understanding
had developed that a church’s apostolic foundation ensured the orthodoxy of its tradition and
teaching. As Constantinople had no such origin and/or tradition, the editors of the Liber used
sedes apostolica to narrate the schism, which was itself provoked by a challenge to Rome’s
doctrinal primacy. I argue that its use was a very clear assertion of primacy.

St Peter: the Source of all the Gospels and the Vanquisher of Heresy

Separately, the editors of P1 and P3 presented two additional arguments for Peter’s special
position in relation to the orthodox tradition. Those of P1 asserted that Peter was the source of
all four gospels: the apostle ‘wrote two epistles called catholic and Mark’s gospel (because
Mark was his hearer and son by baptism; later he was the complete source of the four gospels);
when he was questioned, Peter confirmed them by his testimony. Whether in Greek, Hebrew or
Latin, they are in agreement, and it was by his testimony they were confirmed’.130 The
closeness of the phraseology indicates that the editors took the references to the two letters and
the gospel of Mark from Jerome’s De viris illustribus although Jerome did not add that Peter
also confirmed the other gospels.131 Eusebius also only attributes the gospel of Mark to Peter.132
The additional claim in respect of the other three gospels was new and transformed the account
into the assertion that Peter was the source of the scriptural tradition.

I suggest that in stating that Peter had many debates with Simon Magus and that the latter was
struck down by God’s will, the editors of P3 implicitly presented the Roman Church as the
guardian of orthodoxy which, with divine assistance, defeated heresy. The story of Peter and
Simon Magus was well-known and, given that Jerome mentioned Simon in Peter’s short
biography, however briefly, the inclusion may seem unremarkable.133 However, the account
appears in the third editorial phase in which very few additions to the text were made and the
ones made to Peter’s Life are otherwise significant for papal claims to authority. I consider that
this interpolation needs to be understood in the contexts of how Simon Magus was viewed
since Irenaeus and of how popes were presented as successors of Peter in the Liber. In
Adversus haereses Irenaeus argued that Simon was the source of all heresy.134 Subsequent

129
On this dispute, see Chapter 1, p. 15.
130
LP 1.2: ‘Hic scripsit duas epistulas, quae catholicae nominantur, et evangelium Marci, quia Marcus
auditor eius fuit et filius de baptism; post, omnem quattuor evangeliorum fontem, quae ad
interrogationem et testimonio eius, hoc est Petri, firmatae sunt, dum alius grece, alius ebraice, alius latine
consonant, tamen eius testimonio sunt firmatae’. Translation by Davis, The Book of Pontiffs, p. 1.
131
Jerome, PL 23, 828: ‘Scripsit duas epistolas, quae Catholicae nominantur, Sed et … Evangelicum
iuxta Marcum, qui auditor eius et interpres fuit, hujus dicitur’. Also, On Illustrious Men, I, p. 5.
132
Eusebius, History of the Church, 2.15, p.49. Peter’s hearers persuaded Mark to leave them a summary
of Peter’s instruction and so ‘he became responsible for the writing of what is known as the Gospel
according to Mark’.
133
He was also mentioned in Eusebius, History of the Church, 2.13-14, pp. 47-49.
134
Irenaeus, Adversus haereses, I. 23.2, PG 7, col. 0671: ‘Simon autem Samaritanus, ex quo universae
haereses substiterunt’.

51
theologians and heresiologists, particularly Hippolytus and Epiphanius of Cyprus followed this
genealogical approach.135 I suggest that the editors implicitly claimed for popes the leading role
against heresy. This claim echoes those discussed earlier that popes found, and in some cases
dealt with, heretics.

In summary, the editors promoted the Church’s primacy on doctrine by claiming that popes had
an established record of leadership on doctrinal issues; by constructing an image of popes as
martyrs and/or as opponents of heresy; by presenting the Church as the sedes apostolica; and
by asserting that Peter was the source of orthodox doctrine. The elements of these claims are
apparent in P1 but, as I show, we see in P2 a deepening of the assertion that the Roman Church
preserved the Catholic religion unstained (immaculata). In total, editors claimed twenty-three
martyr popes out of a total of thirty-one between Peter and Miltiades, considerably in excess of
what historians consider is supportable by contemporary tradition. The appearance in P2 of an
existing argument that Rome’s pre-eminence and primacy was due to its apostolic status was
likely to have had a particular resonance at a time when Rome had lost the status that derived
from its position as a residential imperial capital. The claims in respect of Peter as the source of
orthodoxy, and that by inference his successors were its guardians, added an additional layer of
claim and assertion. The editors of P3 also constructed a claim for jurisdictional primacy to
which I now turn.

Jurisdictional Primacy

The editors included a claim for jurisdictional primacy by borrowing from and adjusting the
sense of the apocryphal letter from Pope Clement to the apostle James. The main additions to
the first edition in the final phase were extracts from Chapters 2 and 5 of the letter, which the
editors inserted into the lives of Peter and Clement.136 The letter had been known in the East
since the late second or the early third century. Rufinus of Aquileia translated it into Latin in
c.406-7, possibly to support Innocent I’s assertions of primacy against the sees of
Constantinople, Alexandria and Antioch, when the pope intervened in the deposition of John
Chrysostom.137 Historians consider it to be a key element in the development of the concept of

135
R. Flower, ‘Genealogies of Unbelief: Epiphanius of Salamis and heresiological authority’ in M.S.
Williams, C. Kelly and R. Flower (eds.), Unclassical Traditions Volume II: Perspectives from East and
West in Late Antiquity (Cambridge, 2011), pp. 70-87, especially pp. 75-76; Young Richard Kim, ‘The
Transformation of Heresiology in the Panarion of Epiphanius of Cyprus’ in Greatrex, Elton and
McMahon, Shifting Genres in Late Antiquity, pp. 53-68, especially p. 56; A. Marjanen, ‘“Gnosticism”’ in
S.A. Harvey and D.G. Hunter (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Studies (Oxford, 2008),
pp. 204-05.
136
Epistula Clementis ad Iacobum, in B. Rehm (ed.), Die Pseudoklementinen II: Rekognitionen in Rufins
Übersetzung, Die griechlichen christlichen Schriftsteller der ersten drei Jahrhunderte, Bd 51 (Berlin,
1965).
137
B. Neil, ‘Rufinus’ Translation of the Epistola Clementis ad Iacobum’, Augustinianum, 43(1) (2003),
pp. 25-39.

52
juristic succession in the pontificate of Leo I.138 The letter, as translated by Rufinus, claims that
Peter ordained Clement as bishop, and passed on to him both the chair of his preaching and
teaching (praedicationis et doctrinae cathedram), and the power of binding and loosing
(potestatem ligandi et solvendi).139 ‘Cathedra’ is not further explained, except in so far as
Clement, as Peter’s companion in all things, knew the truth of that latter’s preaching.140 The
author implied that the power of binding and loosing was disciplinary: he reported Peter as
saying that Clement ‘will bind what ought to be bound and loose what is to be loosed, as he
clearly will have known the rule of the Church (ecclesiae regulam).’141

However, in borrowing from the apocryphal letter, the editors of P3 made some significant
changes. In the life of Peter the power of binding and loosing was equated with the government
of the Church: gubernandi appears in apposition to potestas ligandi solvendique.142 In the life
of Clement, the cathedra entrusted by Christ to Peter became the ecclesia passed from Peter to
Clement: we are told that Clement, at Peter’s command, took on the pontificate of governing
the Church (ecclesiae pontificatum gubernandi) and that ‘[the reader] will find in the letter
which was written to James how, just as the chair (cathedra) was entrusted and handed over by
Christ to Peter, so the Church (ecclesia) was entrusted by Peter to Clement’.143 The editors of
the Liber transformed the mandates of binding and loosing and of preaching (‘chair/cathedra’),
as presented in the apocryphal letter, into the governance of the Church. A straight borrowing
from the apocryphal letter of praedicationis et doctrinae cathedram would have reinforced the
argument for doctrinal primacy that, I argue, is present in all the phases. Instead, I argue, the
editors asserted a separate claim for jurisdictional primacy in the Church.

Section 3 A Clerical Agenda

While I consider that the editors of the Liber were mainly concerned to promote papal authority
(most clearly in P1) and doctrinal primacy (across all phases), I argue that they also sought to

138
See W. Ullmann, ‘The significance of the Epistola Clementis in the Pseudo-Clementines’, Journal of
Theological Studies, NS 11(2) (1960), pp. 295-317; J. Canning, A History of Medieval Political Thought,
p. 31.
139
Epistula Clementis, Die Pseudoklementinen, 2.2, p. 376: ‘Clementem hunc episcopum vobis ordino,
cui soli meae praedicationis et doctrinae cathedram credo’.
140
Epistula Clementis, Die Pseudoklementinen: 2.2, p. 376: ‘qui mihi ab initio usque ad finem comes in
omnibus fuit et per hoc veritatem totius meae praedicationis agnovit’.
141
Epistula Clementis, Die Pseudoklementinen. 2.4, p. 376: ‘propter quod ipsi trado a domino mihi
datam potestatem ligandi et solvendi, ut de omnibus quibuscumque decrevit in terris hoc decretum sit et
in caelis. Ligabit enim quod oportet ligari et solvet quod expedit solvi, tamquam qui ad liquidum
ecclesiae regulam noverit’.
142
LP 1.5: ‘Sicut mihi gubernandi tradita est a domino meo Iesu Christo potestas ligandi solvendique.’
143
LP 4.3: ‘Sicut ei fuerat a domino Iesu Christo cathedra tradita vel commissa; tamen in epistula, quae
ad Iacobum scripta est, qualiter ei a beato Petro commissa est ecclesia, repperies’.

53
advance the position of the clergy in the organisation. I suggest that there are several
manifestations of this agenda in the first edition. First, by managing the record and memory of
popes, the editors made clear that their promotion of papal authority was conditional on that
authority being exercised with the input and the consent of the clergy. As I will show, they
enhanced the reputation of those popes who acted consensually and downplayed that of those
who did not. Second, particularly in the account of Boniface II’s pontificate, they expressed the
need for clerical assent in the election of a pope. Third, they asserted the accountability of
popes, in the process contradicting the principle of papal non-justiciability which was
established in the Laurentian schism. Fourth, the editors of P 3 claimed a Petrine mandate for
the papal administration. I consider that this editorial agenda is similar to contemporary
imperial bureaucratic behaviour as observed by John Lydus in his On Powers, and would be
recognised by current Rational Choice theorists as normal expressions of self-interest by
players in an institution.

Consensual leadership.

A comparison of the accounts of the pontificates of Leo I and his successor Hilarus strongly
suggests that the editorial programme to promote the authority of the pope was conditional on
the clergy acquiring a role in the papal decision-making process. The editors conveyed this
condition by controlling papal reputations. In P1, Leo’s efforts at Chalcedon received a modest
mention: we are told that he found two heresies, the Eutychian and the Nestorian, and that he
frequently confirmed Chalcedon. 144 Only the Felician epitome of the Liber claimed that he
issued a decree to the whole world (here a decretalem, rather than a constitutum de omne
ecclesia).145 This contrasts with the importance attaching to Leo’s achievement that shines
through the correspondence in the Collectio Avellana.146 In contrast, the Liber gives Hilarus a
major role post Chalcedon. He ‘issued a decretal and broadcast it through the East, and letters
on the catholic faith confirming the three synods of Nicea, Ephesus and Chalcedon and the
Tome of the holy bishop Leo, and he condemned Eutyches and Nestorius and all their followers
and all their heresies and confirmed the dominance and pre-eminence of the apostolic see.’ In
addition, Hilarus issued a decree de ecclesia.147 In P2, Leo’s notice was enhanced, and his

144
LP 47.1.
145
Felician Epitome 47, Le Liber Pontificalis, p. 90: ‘et decretalem quem per universum mundum
spargens seminavit’.
146
For the emphasis on Leo in the Collectio Avelllana see Chapter 3, pp. 91-92. Blaudeau, ‘Narrating
Papal Authority’, p. 134, argues this differently. He sees Leo’s Christological teaching as a ‘timeless
deposit of faith, reflected in the Liber Pontificalis through the generic insistence on its place in the papal
archive’. Cohen, on the other hand, ‘Schism and the Polemic of Heresy’, pp. 210-11, observes an
omission of information in Leo’s Life where a positive reference might be expected. He notes that Leo’s
well-documented attack against Roman Manichaeism is completely ignored in his Liber, although he
suggests the pope’s letters and sermons may not have been available to the compiler.
147
LP 48: ‘Hic fecit decretalem et per universam Orientem exparsit et epistulas de fide catholica
contirmans III synodos Niceni, Ephesi at Calcidonense vel tomum sancti Leonis et damnavit Eutychem

54
Tome was stated to be the ‘faith of the apostolic Church of Rome’. However, his record was
still not presented as fulsomely as it was in the Collectio. The promotion of Hilarus, at the
expense of Leo, might be explained by the relative patronage they offered, a credible criterion,
as the Liber noticeably focuses on constructions and donations. Hilarus was a significant
patron; inter alia, according to the P1 editors, he built three oratories at the Basilica
Constantiniana and a monastery, baths, a residence and a library at or around St Laurence’s.148
However, Leo’s patronage, if not of the same order, was not negligible. After the Vandals
sacked Rome, he replaced silver vessels in all the tituli. Additionally, he renewed St Peter’s
basilica and apse vault, constructed an apse vault in the Basilica Constantiniana, and built a
church to the bishop and martyr Cornelius.149

I suggest that the editors of P2 explain this depiction of Leo. In the events leading up to
Chalcedon, they recorded that he issued orders on his own authority (sui auctoritate). It is
possible that the phrase is a comment on his position vis-à-vis the emperor Marcian. However,
in the light of what follows, I argue that this is a negative comment on the way Leo exercised
his authority: he made decisions on his own, and without consultation. There are no extant
records from Leo’s reign against which this assessment can be judged. However, there is
evidence that Hilarus acted consensually, and in ways that were likely to have appealed to the
clergy. The record of a Roman synod (465), identified in the Liber as the occasion for his
decree de ecclesia, survives. The synod made decisions on two questions raised by Spanish
bishops: whether a man, who had married a woman who was not a virgin, could aspire to holy
orders, and whether a bishop could designate his successor?150 In regard to the first, the record
shows that Hilarus acted consensually: he invited the judgements and the formal assent of the
bishops and priests.151 This pattern of arriving at the judgement was repeated for the second
question.152 The latter may have been particularly relevant for the Roman clergy, as it raised
the same issue of principle that was to vex them at the time of the Liber’s compilation:
Boniface II (530-32)’s attempt to designate Vigilius as his successor.153 The synod of 465
decided that such a marriage denied the cleric further promotion, and that designation of a
successor was precluded. Both decisions were accompanied by acclamations, including a
number for Hilarus: six ‘Exaudi Christe, Vita Hilaro’ for the first decision, five for the second.
This portrayal of Hilarus suggests that the editors had a memory of him as a pope who acted

et Nestorium vel omnes sequaces eorum et vel hereses, et confirmans dominatorem et principatum
sanctae sedis catholicae et apostolicae. Hic fecit constitutum de ecclesia ad sancta Maria.’
148
LP 48.1.
149
LP 47.6.
150
Hilarus, Ep. 15, Epistolae Romanorum Pontificum, pp. 159-165.
151
Hilarus, Ep. 15.2: ‘Quod ut deniceps possit tenacious custodiri, si placet, omnes sententias et
subscriptiones proprias commodate, ut synodali judicio aditus illicitis.’
152
Hilarus, Ep. 15.11: “Acceptis quae recitata sunt, de omnibus nunc fratres speciales sententias Deo
vobis spirante depromite”.
153
LP 57.3-4.

55
consensually in synod, and possibly in other situations. The respective treatment of the two
popes in the text points to a broader editorial argument for clerical engagement in the decision-
making process.

This argument is strongly echoed in the account of the Acacian schism in which there is a
discernible theme of popes acting with advice. In the lives of the five popes between Simplicius
and Hormisdas that carry the account, three show that popes acted with advice, and one makes
the point that the pope should have done so. Felix III held a council before sending a defensor
with the advice of his see (cum consilio) to Constantinople.154 The editors also reported that, in
his pontificate, priests and deacons issued a decree de omnem ecclesiam after his death,
providing a clear example of clerical participation.155 Gelasius acted ‘in pursuance of the acts
of a synod’ (sub gesta synodi) in rehabilitating Misenus.156 When Hormisdas acted to resolve
the schism, it was ‘pursuant to a decree of a synod’ (ex constitutum synodi).157 Anastasius II
caused an internal schism in Rome when he entered into communion with the deacon Photinus
of Thessalonica, ‘without taking advice (sine consilio) from priests, bishops and clerics of the
whole catholic church’.158 The life of Simplicius, pope when Zeno issued the Henotikon,
contains the discordant comment that he ‘dissembled and never sent a reply to Acacius.’159
However, this is contradicted by an account of the Acacian schism, usually attributed to
Gelasius, which states that Simplicius wrote very often (totiens).160 The editors of the Liber are
silent as to whether Simplicius acted with or without advice but there may be other reasons for
his unpopularity with the clergy: he initiated the scriptura issued by the praetorian prefect
Basilius in 483, which decreed papal elections could not be celebrated without consulting
secular authority and forbade electioneering in the dying days of a papacy, a potential
opportunity for a windfall for the clergy.161

154
LP 50.2: ‘Felix … mittens defensorem cum consilio sedis suae, facto concilio’.
155
LP 50.5: [In Phase 1]: ‘Et post transitum eius factum est a presbiteris et diaconibus constitutum de
omnem ecclesiam.’
156
LP 51.2.
157
LP 54.2.
158
LP 52.2: ‘multi clerici et presbiteri se a communione ipsius erigerunt, eo quod communicasset sine
consilio presbiterorum vel episcoporum vel clericorum cunctae ecclesiae catholicae diacono
Thessalonicense, nomine Fotino.’
159
LP 49.4: ‘Simplicius dissimulans numquam rescripsit Acacio’;
160
CA 99.20 and 23 (‘Gesta de nomine Acaci’): ‘per ferme triennium vel amplius sanctae memoriae papa
Simplicius numquam destitit scribere ad Acacium episcopum, ut fieret de Petro quod Timotheus
episcopus postulabat’ and ‘cum ergo sanctae memoriae papae Simplici nihil totiens ad Acacium ante
directa propter Alexandrinae ecclesiae quietem et catholicae integretatem fidei scripta proficerent …’
Thiel, Epistolae Romanorum Pontificum, pp. 510ff., treats the Gesta as the first of Gelasius’s six tracts.
161
Acta Synhodorum Habitarum Romae, DII, para .4, p. 445: ‘tamen admonitione beatissimi viri papae
nostri Simplicii, quam ante oculos semper habere debemus, hoc nobis meministis sub dei obtestatione
fuisse mandatum, ut praeter ullum strepitum et venerabilis ecclesiae detrimentum, si eum de hac luce
transire contigerit, non sine nostra consultatione cuiuslibet celebretur electio’.

56
The report of the double election of 530, when both Boniface II and the deacon Dioscorus were
elected and ordained on the same day, presented a variant to the argument for clerical
engagement in the decision making, here the election of a pope. The election brought into focus
the practice of popes nominating their successors and the issue of external interference in papal
elections. Athalaric, the Ostrogothic King, sought to ensure the election of a pope more
amenable to accepting Justinian’s theopaschite formula. Although Pope Felix IV nominated
Boniface in 530, Athalaric and his Roman ministers, including Cassiodorus, engineered the
election. Dioscorus, who had advised Hormisdas against accepting the formula as far back as
519, was the clergy’s choice. 162 The editors of P2 made no reference to external interference or
to the theopaschite formula, although Dioscorus’ candidature warrants the assumption that it
was at least one of the issues. They were clear, however, on expressing the need for the consent
of the majority of the clergy in the matter of the elections. They recorded that, even after his
rival’s death, no one assented to Boniface’s episcopacy, because ‘the great majority had been
on Dioscorus’s side.’163

I argue that the editors introduced a further strand in the advocation of consensual leadership in
promoting the message, which ran counter to that of Symmachan Apocrypha and the outcome
of the Laurentian schism, that popes were accountable. I suggest that the editors promoted this
notion despite the fact that the Liber is widely considered to be a pro-Symmachan text, and the
principle of papal non-justiciability crystallised in the Laurentian schism to Symmachus’s
advantage. In contrast to narratives in the Apocrypha, in which popes purged themselves when
faced with similar charges, the Liber reported them as purged by bishops.164There is not an
exact overlap between the examples in the Apocrypha and those in the Liber but there is a
consistency of principle in each: four of the Apocrypha assert the principle of non-
justiciability;165 in all the cases in the Liber the pope was stated to have been purged by other
bishops. Damasus, accused of adultery, was declared purged by a synod of forty-four
bishops.166 Sixtus III, arraigned on an unspecified charge, was stated in the Liber to have been
purged by a synod of fifty-six bishops; this contrasts with the key statement of the ex-consul
Maximus in Gesta de purgatione Xystii that ‘it is not permitted to pass sentence on the

162
For a detailed view of the election see Moreau, ‘Ipsis diebus Bonifatius’, pp. 177-198. For
Dioscorus’s advice, see the Collectio Avellana, Ep. 216: ‘Suggestio Dioscori Diaconi’.
163
LP 57.2: “Cui tamen in episcopatum nullus subscripsit, dum plurima multitude fuissent cum
Dioscoro”.
164
Narratives in the Symmachan Apocrypha expressing this point are the accounts of Popes Marcellinus
and Sixtus III. See ‘Das Documentum des [X]ystus von Rom’ and ‘Das Documentum des [M]arcellinus
von Rom’ in E. Wirbelauer, Zwei Päpste in Rom: Der Konflict zwischen Laurentius und Symmachus
(498-514): Studien und Texte, Quellen und Forschungen zur antiken Welt, Bd. 16 (Munich, 1993), pp.
262-71 and 284-301.
165
These four texts are the Gesta de Xysti purgatione and the Gesta Polychronii episcopi
Hierosolynitani, the Sinuessanae synodi gesta de Marcellino and the Constitutum Silvestri or the Council
of 284 Bishops — Zwei Päpste, pp. 262-301 and 308-15.
166
LP 39.3: ‘et facto synodo purgatur a XLIIII episcopis’.

57
pontiff.’167 In the editors’ account, Symmachus was purged by a synod, although this
contradicted the record of the actual Roman synod which discussed his position in 501 and
decided that they could not judge him: ‘since the appeals of all bishops are referred to him ...
what is to be done?’168 The editors further claimed that he was re-instated by all the bishops,
priests, deacons, all the clergy and the people.169 The account of the synod in Rome that
decided that Boniface II had acted ‘against the canons’ shows the pope accountable to the
clergy in synod: the attendees made the decision, which the pope then acknowledged.170
Cumulatively, these examples asserted papal accountability which, I suggest, was presented as
a corollary to the requirement the bishop should act consensually.

A Petrine Mandate for the Clergy

The editors of P3 also contrived to claim a Petrine mandate for the clergy by adapting the
content of the apocryphal letter of Clement to James to suggest that Peter had inaugurated the
papal administration. Above I showed that the editors converted the apocryphal author’s
account of the transmission of the chair of Peter’s preaching and teaching (praedicationis et
doctrinae cathedram) into that of the Church (ecclesia). I consider that the editors made
another change and a different claim. The author of the letter reported Peter’s instruction to
Clement not to become too involved in affairs of business: ‘It becomes you, living without
reproach … to shake off all the cares of life, being neither a provider of surety, nor an advocate,
nor involved in business. Christ does not wish you to be a judge, or arbitrator of business
matters, in case, preoccupied with the affairs of men, you are not able to have the time to
separate good men from bad according to the principle of truth.’ 171 I suggest it is clear from the
occupations mentioned that the distinction, contemplated by the author, was between secular
business affairs and papal ministry within the Church. While the Latin is not totally
straightforward, the author envisaged that laymen did the other duties: ‘let those learning, that

167
LP 46.1: ‘et facto convento cum magna examinatione iudicium synodicum purgatur a LVI episcopis’;
Zwei Päpste, Das Documentum des [X]ystus, p. 268: ‘non licet enim adversus pontificem dare
sententiam’.
168
LP 53.4: ‘facto synodo purgatur a crimine falso’; Acta Synhodorum Habitarum Romae, ‘Relatio
episcoporum ad regem’, para. 10, p. 423: ‘quoniam ipsi per canones appellationes omnium episcoporum
commissae sunt, et cum ispe appellat, quid erit faciendum?’
169
LP 53.4: ‘ab omnibus episcopis et presbiteris et diaconibus et omni clero vel plebe reintegratur’.
170
LP 57.4: ‘factum iterum synodum hoc censuerunt sacerdotes omnes propter reverentiam sedis sanctae
et quia contra canones fuerat hoc factum et quia culpa eum respiciebat ut successorem sibi constituere;
ipse Bonifacius papa reum se confessus est’. ‘Sacerdotes’ were bishops and/or priests, or even clergy —
Davis, The Book of the Pontiffs, Glossary, p. 124.
171
Epistula Clementis, Die Pseudoklementinen, 5. 2 and 5.3: ‘te quidem oportet in reprehensibiliter
vivere et summon niti, ut ommes vitae huius occupations anicias, ne fideiussor existas, ne advocatus
litium fias … neque enim iudicem aut cognitorem sarcularium negotiorum hodie te ordinare vult
Christus, uti ne praefocatus praesentibus hominum curis no possis verbo deo vacare et secundum
veritatis regulam secernere bonos a malis’.

58
is laymen, in their turns produce those works, which we have shown above to be congenial to
you, and let no one detain you from those endeavours through which health is given to all.’172

The editors of P3 transformed this distinction between the papal ministry and secular affairs
into one between pope and the papal administration, and effectively claimed a Petrine origin for
the latter. After stating Peter’s commission to Clement to govern the Church, the text of the
Liber continues ‘in order that, ordaining the managers of different cases through whom the
church’s affairs are despatched, you may find [yourself] very little involved in the cares of the
world; but ensure that you are completely free for prayer and preaching to the people.’173 The
distinction here is not between the papal ministry and secular matters and laity, as in Clement’s
letter; it is an internal division within the Church between prayer and preaching on the one hand
and church affairs (actus ecclesiasticus) and ordained persons (ordinans …) on the other. I
consider the provision for managers (dispositores diversarum causarum) in the expansion on
Peter’s mandate to Clement is important. I suggest that the editors of P3, who had already
altered the wording of Clement’s letter to James, made this further amendment which had the
intended effect of tracing back to Peter the origin of the papal administration.

This notion of a separation of the functions of the Roman Church may have owed something to
the example of Bishop Caesarius of Arles (502-42), who distanced himself from his local
church’s extensive landholdings by assigning their day to day management to subordinates. 174
Caesarius was heavily influenced by Julianus Pomerius, who in De vita contemplativa argued
that bishops should detach themselves from secular entanglements.175 Caesarius had regular
contact with the papacy: he had good relations with Pope Symmachus who made him papal
vicar in Gaul; he visited Rome in 512; he requested Pope Hormisdas (514-23)’s approval for a
donation to his own foundation that was funded by a sale of church lands, and he later (between
526 and 535) sought popes’ confirmations of local regional councils’ decisions.176 It seems
likely that members of the Roman Church were familiar with ecclesiastical arrangements in
Arles, and it is possible that the editors of the Liber saw a use for the distinction between
preaching and ‘ecclesiastical affairs’ in Rome.

The editors’ willingness to promote the authority of their bishop on the condition that he
exercised it with their consent reflects a common feature in institutional behaviour, the
assertion of individual or collective self-interest by its members. I consider that the editors’

172
Epistula Clementis, Die Pseudoklementinen, 5.4: ‘namque opera quae tibi minus congruere superius
exposuimus. Exhibeant sibi invicem discentes, id est laici’.
173
LP 1.5: ‘ut ordinans dispositores diversarum causarum, per quos actus ecclesiasticus profligetur, et tu
minime in curis saeculi deditus repperiaris; sed solummodo ad orationem et praedicare populo vacare
stude’.
174
See W.E. Klingshirn, Caesarius of Arles: The Making of a Christian Community in Late Antique
Gaul, Cambridge Studies in Medieval Life and Thought, Fourth Series, no. 22 (Cambridge, 1994), p. 89.
175
Klingshirn,, Caesarius of Arles, pp. 75-82.
176
Klingshirn,, Caesarius of Arles, pp. 127-45.

59
strategy is echoed, if not exactly paralleled, in an account of contemporary institution by John
Lydus. His On Powers, Or the Magistracies of the Roman State, probably composed between
554 and 565, is ostensibly a history of Roman magistracies and offices, but it is also in large
measure an account of John’s career in the eastern prefecture.177 Chris Kelly observes that On
Powers mirrored the continual and often delicate process of negotiation between personal
interest and corporate benefit, crucial to a successful career’.178 I suggest that the editors’
actions also exemplify the findings of the Rational Choice theorists, who argue that institutions
as governance or rule systems that they represent are deliberately constructed edifices
established by individuals seeking to promote or protect their interests, and that individuals
may conclude that collective action is the best way of achieving their goals.179 I suggest that in
seeking to ensure that popes operated with agreement, that they were accountable and in
asserting a Petrine mandate for the administration, the editors were pursuing that self-interest.

Section 4 Church-Secular Ruler Relations

I argue that three narratives in the Liber Pontificalis show that a fourth discernible editorial
agenda was to re-define, or re-express the relationship between the Roman Church and secular
rulers. First, in their accounts of the councils of Nicea and Chalcedon the editors portrayed
popes as the main actors and emperors in a supporting position, implying that these were the
appropriate roles. Second, the editors of P2 detailed the emperor Constantine’s church
constructions, endowments and donations in the life of Pope Silvester, the purpose of which, I
consider was to encourage further imperial patronage. Third, by the selective attachment of the
term ‘hereticus’ to accounts of the actions of the Ostrogothic king Theoderic, the editors
sketched out what actions they considered acceptable and unacceptable, particularly in relation
to the involvement of secular rulers in disputed papal elections. While in the first of the
narratives, the editors were also promoting papal authority, I think there is sufficient reason to
group the accounts with the other two examples as collectively they show a desire to define the
Church’s relationship with secular rulers.

Popes, Emperors and Ecumenical Councils

In their accounts of the councils of Nicea and Chalcedon the editors expressed different and
more subordinate roles for emperors at ecumenical councils than the historical record supports.

177
Ioannes Lydus, On Powers, Or the Magistracies of the Roman State (De Magistratibus Reipublicae
Romanae), ed. by A.C. Bandy (Philadelphia, 1983).
178
C. Kelly, Ruling the Later Roman Empire, Revealing Antiquity no. 15 (Cambridge MA, 2004), p. 51.
179
See Chapter 1, page 23.

60
Emperors summoned all four ecumenical councils between 325 and 451. Constantine
summoned the Council of Nicea, acted as its president and his theological adviser, Ossius of
Cordova, was the first signatory to its acts.180 The emperor Marcian decided on the Council of
Chalcedon and the evidence suggests that he and the empress Pulcheria took the key decisions,
and the bishops met subsequently to deliver the appropriate approval.181 In contrast to this
reality, the Liber records that Nicea was summoned at Silvester’s command (cum eius
praeceptum), that Chalcedon was summoned at Leo’s instigation (sui auctoritate), and it states
that at the latter the emperor Marcian and the empress Pulcheria made confessions of faith
before the bishops after setting aside their royal status (deposita regia maiestate). Then, ‘after
expounding their faith with their own signatures the emperor Marcian and his wife the empress
Pulcheria demanded that the holy council send it to the very blessed Pope Leo, in
condemnation of all heresies.’182 Both accounts attempt to attribute responsibility and credit for
the councils to popes, and that of Chalcedon seems to reflect how the editors wished the
council had played out. Claire Sotinel points to five competing authorities at play in the Three
Chapters Controversy (the emperor, the bishop of Rome, the ecumenical council, bishops, and
clerics as experts), the last two of whom only emerged as a force in the 550s.183 I suggest that
the respective status of the other three was less clear in the 530s. While the editors no doubt
wished to assert the authority of the pope, I suggest that, in their depiction of Chalcedon, they
also sought to propose and sketch out an ideal, subordinate role for emperors. I consider that
this to be one of three such suggested roles that appear in the first edition of the Liber.

Imperial Patronage

On the second point, I argue that the listing of all Constantine’s benefactions in the life of
Silvester in P2 was intended to elicit Justinian’s patronage. P1 is virtually devoid of
information on imperial patronage, as the editors focused on promoting the authority of the
pope. Following the format established in P1 for Popes Sixtus III, Hilarus and Symmachus
(details of constructions, endowments, gifts of liturgical vessels and furnishings), the life of
Silvester contains details of all Constantine’s constructions and donations. Quantitively, the
details are the most significant in the first edition and, arguably, dominate it, which begs the
questions why were they included, and why in P2? The agenda of the editors of P2 was wider
ranging and, I suggest, circumstances may have prompted consideration of imperial patronage.

180
Davis, The First Seven Ecumenical Councils, pp. 57 and 62.
181
M. Whitby, ‘An Unholy Crew? Bishops Behaving Badly at Church Councils’ in R. Price and M.
Whitby (eds.), Chalcedon in Context: Church Councils 400-700 (Liverpool, 2011), p. 182.
182
LP 47.4: ‘Et iterum fidem suam imperator Marcianus Augustus cum coniugem suam Pulcheriam
Augustam, cyrografo proprio fidem suam exponents, postulaverunt sanctum Concilium ut dirigeret ad
beatissimim Leonem, damnantes omnes hereses.’
183
C. Sotinel, ‘Council, Emperor and Bishops: Authority and Orthodoxy in the Three Chapters
controversy’ in C. Sotinel, Church and Society in Late Antique Italy and Beyond (Aldershot, 2010), V,
pp. 13.

61
In 476, the Roman Church lost its main patrons. As I discuss in Chapter 4, western emperors
were not replaced to any significant degree by Odoacer, the Ostrogothic kings or eastern
emperors, and gifts received from secular rulers after 476 were modest, even if of diplomatic
significance.184 P2 was probably composed around 535, at the time Justinian was contemplating
the reconquest of the western provinces and was engaging in significant building in
Constantinople and the East. Notable among his constructions were SS. Sergius and Bacchus
(started in 527, completed in 536) and the Hagia Sophia (from after Nika Riots in 532 to
December 537), both in Constantinople.185 I suggest that, given the scale of Justinian’s
buildings in Constantinople, the East and North Africa, the Roman Church had some
expectation of patronage, and that the editors of P2 intended the list of Constantine’s donations
to be a ‘mirror’ to encourage more of the same from Justinian.

Adjudicating Contested Papal Elections

I consider that third attempt to model secular rulers’ behaviour is apparent in the cameo of
Theoderic the Great (493-526) in which the editors of P2 showed that there was a role for
secular rulers adjudicating disputed papal elections, provided they did so in a way that was
acceptable to members of the Church. The editors present the king both positively and
negatively, and there is a clear point at which his designation changes from rex to hereticus
rex.186 It becomes negative in the life of John I, whom Theoderic sent to Constantinople to
argue for the restoration of churches to the Arian community in the East. Theoderic starts as
rex, but at the point he threatened to put the whole of Italy to the sword if Justinian consecrated
Arian churches for orthodox use, he becomes rex hereticus, and is consistently so thereafter.
Prior to that, the editors appear to have had no problem with the Arian king deciding between
Symmachus and Laurence during the Laurentian schism. They state, with apparent approval,
that in opting for the former Theoderic made ‘the fair decision’ as he reasoned that Symmachus
was ordained first and had the greater support.187 Notably, the editors did not re-write the
account to reflect Theoderic’s later reputation, suggesting that they set out to show what was
acceptable and unacceptable engagement. As I argue in Chapter 3, the Church had a
constitutional problem in that it had no mechanism for dealing with double elections. I suggest
that in their account of the Laurentian schism the editors flagged up a role for secular rulers on
this difficult issue as long as they gave effect to the clergy’s choice.

184
See Chapter 4, pp 133-36.
185
In building churches Justinian devoted particular attention to sites with a longstanding Christian
tradition: Constantinople, Jerusalem, Bethlehem, Mt. Sinai, Antioch, and Ephesus. See J.D. Alchermes,
‘Art and Architecture in the Age of Justinian’ in M. Maas (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to the Age of
Justinian (Cambridge, 2005), pp. 355-66.
186
LP 55.1: ‘Hic vocitus a rege Theodorico’; LP 55.2: ‘Pro hanc causam hereticus rex Theodoricus
audiens hoc exarsit et voluit totam Italiam ad gladio extinguere.’
187
LP 53.2: ‘Qui dum ambo introissent Ravennam, hoc iudicium aequitatis invenit, it qui prior ordinatus
fuisset vel ubi pars maxima cognosceretur, ipse sederet in sedem apostolicam.’

62
These three messages in the text point to a recognition by the editors that emperors, and even
an Arian secular ruler, had a role to play in the Church. The first example attempted to modify
an existing role in the wider church, the other two more directly concerned the Church in
Rome. I suggest that the accounts of Nicea and Chalcedon should be read as attempting to
change the respective roles of popes and emperors and popes in ecumenical councils. I consider
that the inclusion of Constantine’s donations should be seen in the contexts of the loss of
imperial patronage after 476 and the imminent arrival of Justinian’s troops in Rome. I suggest
that we should not underestimate contemporary concerns regarding contested papal elections:
as I show in Chapter 3, the compiler of the Collectio Avellana included a selection of letters,
part of an entire section on Church-Empire relations, to sketch the paradigm of an emperor’s
involvement in double elections.188

Section 5 Writers and Audience

Despite the considerable attention that has been paid to the Liber Pontificalis the authors have
not been identified and there is some debate as to the initial target audience. There is a broad
consensus that the editors were members of the Roman Church and that, even if the Liber had
not been commissioned by the bishop, it was quickly adopted as an official record. The clerical
agenda, which I identify, would strongly argue that the authors came from a level below the
pope, and that they represented a broad constituency within the clergy. That background did not
preclude them from having strategic awareness or from being concerned about the current state
and future direction of their institution. I consider that awareness is apparent in their promotion
of the bishop’s and the Church’s authority and in their identification of the institution’s
deficiencies. One needs only to consider the case of John Lydus, whose On Powers displays a
fine awareness of the external or ‘macro’ factors which affected his institution, and who
negotiated the delicate balance between personal interest and corporate benefit, to appreciate
that a similar assessment of the editors is highly credible.189 I have proceeded on the basis of
three sets of compilers, one set for each editorial phase, when there may only have been one for
each, and the one author may have written both P2 and P3. P1 and P2 appear sufficiently
different to point to separate authors for each. I have no reason to dispute Geertman’s
assessment that P3 was written shortly after and was a retouching of P2.

I suggest that the initial target audience for the Liber Pontificalis was members of the Roman
Church, although it is possible that, as the text went through successive editorial phases and

188
See Chapter 3, pp. 106-107.
189
Kelly, Ruling the Later Roman Empire, p.51.

63
continuations, editors sought to reach a wider readership or came to appreciate that it had one.
Much of the content of the first edition (the ordinary decrees in P1, the double elections in P2,
the clerical agenda) would probably have meant little, if anything, to an external readership. On
the other hand, the emphasis on doctrinal primacy and what the text had to say about Church-
Empire relations might suggest a target audience outside the Roman Church. However, the
form in which arguments appear in the text does not suggest that they could be presented to
theologically sophisticated churchmen in the East or in the West. Deliyannis argues that the
Liber may have formed part of the background preparation for Hormisdas’s embassies to
Constantinople in 516 or 518 and the delegates may have taken a copy with them.190 She
proposes the existence of a papal history circulating in Constantinople in 518/19. Her argument
is founded on Duchesne’s chronology and she relies heavily on his later suggestion that a
version of the Liber in may have existence in c. 514 or earlier.191 However, one has to question
what a version of the Liber would look like at that time. If one had existed, it would probably
have been similar to the Liberian Catalogue, the Laurentian Fragment or at best P1, none of
which would have assisted the purpose she suggests.

I consider that the considerable emphasis in the Liber on Rome’s orthodoxy and doctrinal
primacy should not detract from the argument that the initial target audience was the members
of the Roman Church. I argue that doctrinal primacy was fundamental to the identity of the
Church, especially after Chalcedon when it was beginning to assert that primacy, and even
more after 482 when the Church’s position was challenged by eastern emperors. The
articulation of different expressions of primacy, across the three editorial phases of the first
edition would, I suggest, have been directly relevant to the Roman clergy. They would have
explained to the clergy the varying positions of the Roman Church in its difficult engagement
with Constantinople. The claim that Peter was the source of all gospels was unlikely to have
been well received in the East, but it may have worked for the Roman clergy as a figurative
representation of the claim to doctrinal primacy.

I do not think that the Church-Empire elements mean that rulers had to be included in the target
audience. For instance, my argument about Constantine’s benefactions does not necessarily
mean that Justinian was a target reader. The Liber may also have functioned as a record of
donations, in which case, I suggest, it would have been sufficient for the emperor to know that
his gifts were appropriately recorded in the institutional history. The mixed portrayal of
Theoderic may also have been an acknowledgement, intended to be shared by an internal

Deliyannis, ‘The Roman Liber Pontificalis’, pp.14-15.

190

L. Duchesne, Étude sur le Liber Pontificalis, (Paris, 1877), pp.190-92, quoted by Deliyannis, ‘The
191

Roman Liber Pontificalis’, p. 6.

64
audience, that when it came to disputed papal elections, the secular ruler, of whatever religious
hue, had a role to play.

Conclusion

In this chapter I argue that the first edition of the Liber Pontificalis needs to be understood in
the context of the double challenges posed by the events of 476 and 482. After 476 the structure
within which the Roman Church operated changed: it was no longer directly supported by an
emperor. In P1 we see that the editors responded by promoting the authority of their bishop in a
way that was anticipated by the Synods of Rome of 501 and 502. On those earlier occasions,
historic events rather than editorial constructions, bishops and clergy (some members of the
Roman Church, some not) reacted to an instruction to judge Pope Symmachus by asserting the
principle of papal non-justiciability. I suggest that this reflects the fact that, as articulated by
Avitus of Vienne, that the bishop of Rome performed roles that others had an interest in
maintaining. In the new less structured and less supportive environment the authors of the Liber
responded by upholding the authority of their bishop of Rome. There is a considerable gap in
time between the event of 476 and the dates when the Liber was compiled. However, I suggest
it would have taken time for a full appreciation of the impact of the consequences of the demise
of western emperors to emerge, and we should not be too surprised at a long gestation period.

The fact that the Liber was a response to the challenges posed by Zeno’s Henotikon and
Justinian’s attempt to impose the theopaschite formula is, I suggest, much clearer. The
emphasis on doctrinal primacy in all three editorial phases is significant. The challenge did not
end with Pope Hormisdas’s apparent success at the end of the Acacian schism: almost
immediately Justinian started to press for the acceptance of the theopaschite formula. I suggest
that the emphasis on doctrinal primacy that we see in the Liber reflects the editors’ acute
awareness of the importance of the Roman Church’s record of orthodoxy and its position on
doctrinal primacy to its identity. After 476, deprived of imperial support, the Church and the
editors fell back on components of authority and arguments that could have traction: the
Church had an immaculate record and it was the sedes apostolica. I argue in this thesis that
doctrinal primacy was fundamental to the Church’s identity, its authority and its power. The
emphasis on it in the Liber is traceable directly to the Henotikon.

The analysis and explanation that I present in this chapter is at some variance to that of
Rosamond McKitterick, who has written authoritatively and at length on the Liber Pontificalis
in recent years. Her latest major work on the text was published in the final stages of my

65
completing this thesis.192 There is much in the book with which I agree. For instance, she says
of the seventh-century Lives that there is a consistent emphasis in ‘the definition and upholding
of orthodox Christian doctrine in the face of heretical ideas emanating from the emperor and
the patriarch in Constantinople’.193 I consider that statement to be consistent with my arguments
in this chapter. However, she continues to present a very different analysis of the first edition. I
do not subscribe to the view that the original editors and the continuators necessarily had the
same objectives, but in reality, those of those of the sixth and seventh centuries were similar.
There remain three key points on which I differ in regard to the earlier period.

First, I do not agree that the Liber Pontificalis ‘should be seen as a specifically papal and
Roman response to the political crisis engulfing the whole of Italy’ in 536.194 As I argue in this
chapter, it was a response to the double events of 476 and 482. Her focus on the Church in
Rome and the ambitions of the authors for the bishop of Rome ignores or overrides, in my
view, the impact of the exogenous shocks to the institution that were brought about by the
events that took place at the start of the period.

Second, I disagree that the Liber Pontificalis was designed ‘to construct the popes as rulers of
Rome, replacing the emperors’.195 In her earlier articles, she asserted this position mainly by
arguing that the structure of the text followed that of serial biographies of Roman emperors
(those of Suetonius and the Historia Augusta).196 In her latest publication she addresses the
issue of ‘imperial emulation’, arguing that the architectural styles of the Roman Church
provided a material counterpart for the textual replacement of emperors with popes.197 She also
argues that the attention paid to Roman liturgy ‘reinforced the theme of imperial emulation and
substitution, for the emperor’s devotion to religious matters had been a central aspect of the
public role of the emperor as portrayed in the biographies of Suetonius and the Historia
Augusta’.198 I recognise that there are elements of isomorphic authority in the Liber
Pontificalis, especially in relation to the construction of churches. However, I suggest it can be
overstated, particularly in regard to the period leading up to 536. McKitterick appears to
privilege the secular intellectual tradition over the ecclesiastical and religious one. I suggest
that we see in the first edition the writers reaching deeply into their religious and ecclesiastical

192
R. McKitterick, Rome and the Invention of the Papacy: The Liber Pontificalis, James C. Lydon
Lectures (Cambridge, 2020) was published in June 2020.
193
McKitterick, Rome and the Invention of the Papacy, p.14.
194
McKitterick, ‘Roman Texts and Roman History’, p. 23 and Rome and the Invention of the Papacy, p.
32.
195
McKitterick, ‘The representation of Old Saint Peter’s’, p. 96.
196
McKitterick, ‘Roman Texts and Roman History’, pp. 23-24 and 29-33.
197
McKitterick, Rome and the Invention of the Papacy, p. 125-31 and ‘The popes as rulers of Rome in
the Aftermath of Empire, 476-69’ in S.J. Brown, C. Methuen and A. Spicer (eds.), The Church and
Empire, Studies in Church History, vol. 54 (Cambridge, 2018), p. 87.
198
McKitterick, Rome and the Invention of the Papacy, p. 144.

66
heritage. I consider that the structure of the Liber is based on the episcopal list that Irenaeus
used to underpin the notion of the apostolic tradition. In their statements that popes issued
decrees de (omne) ecclesia, the editors called on an awareness of ecclesiastical history which
they assumed was shared by the reader, and which only had meaning in a Church context. In
addition, the suggestions in the text for Church-secular relations would seem to belie the notion
that bishops of the time (say, up to c.540) had aspirations of secular rule in the city.

Third, I do not agree that the Liber Pontificalis is a Christianised history of Rome; if it is a
history, it is one of the Roman Church. McKitterick’s focus is on the city. She argues that the
first edition of the Liber sought to frame a new identity for Christians within a narrative of
transforming Rome from a pagan to a Christian city.199 She suggests that it records the
topographical transformation of Rome into a Christian city. I present a different view in this
chapter. I consider that the Liber is best understood as an institutional document: part history,
part polemic. I argue that it was a response to two institutional challenges, the exogenous
shocks that occurred at the beginning of the period. The objectives and arguments that I
identify are institutional and ecclesiastical in their nature. The defence of the Church’s doctrinal
primacy was a recognition of its importance to the institution’s identity. The clerical agenda
that I identify points to an internal purpose. The suggestions for Church-secular ruler relations
imply neither an agenda of independence, nor an ambition for secular rule; rather, they infer an
understanding of the Roman Church as an institution that operated in a society ruled over by a
secular authority.

This chapter suggests a different explanation of the development of to Church to those who
seek to understand its rise and that of the bishop to a position of dominance in Rome. It
suggests that more needs to be understood about how the Church responded as an institution
and about the challenges it had to face rather than assume that it welcomed independence.
Institutions have their own dynamics and they usually operate to reproduce themselves and
ensure their survival, and individual members seek to make them work to serve their own
interests. The clerical agenda which I identify points to a developing, if difficult, maturity, and
a need to appreciate the tensions within the Roman Church and how they were managed.

199
McKitterick, Rome and the Invention of the Papacy, pp.65-66.

67
CHAPTER 3

The Collectio Avellana: The Defence of a Pope, Papal Authority and the Re-working of
Church-Empire Relations

The Collectio Avellana is a sixth-century compilation of mainly papal letters and other
documents which has puzzled historians for a considerable period of time.1 It was probably
compiled by a cleric shortly after the date on which its latest document, Pope Vigilius’s First
Constitutum, was submitted to the Second Council of Constantinople in May 553 in defence of
the Three Chapters. There is no record of what happened to the text before two copies were
made in a monastery near Gubbio, in central Italy, in the eleventh century. The letters in the
Collectio cover 186 years (367-553) and are collated in five or six discrete small collections or
dossiers. Two of the dossiers address disputed papal elections in the fourth and fifth centuries;
the largest dossier contains letters to and from Pope Hormisdas (514-23) concerning the
settlement of the Acacian schism. Historians have struggled to determine an overarching
purpose to the collection. Otto Günther, its nineteenth-century editor, considered it to be a
collection of dossiers that had not been collated elsewhere. In the last 15 years it has attracted
considerable scholarly attention. An exercise, led by the University or Perugia, has attempted to
understand it in the context of fifth- and sixth-century canonical collections. However, to date
no one has satisfactorily identified its purpose.

In this chapter I argue that the Collectio is a late antique letter collection and should be read as
such. Once this hermeneutical key is applied, it becomes apparent that the compiler had three
objectives. First, he sought to defend the reputation of Pope Vigilius and/or the position that the
First Constitutum represented. Second, he set out to track and to assert new expressions of
doctrinal and jurisdictional primacy which emerged during and after the Acacian schism (484-
519). Third, he intended the collection to opine on Church/Empire relations: he argued strongly
against the emperor’s involvement in doctrinal issues but set out a role for the ruler in the
Church. The Collectio has the characteristics of two sub-genres of letters collections: it was an
episcopal letter collection in that it sought to defend the reputation of a bishop; it was a papal
one in that it sought to enhance the position of the bishop of Rome. I also argue that the
Collectio was a polemical document which circulated among the clergy of the Roman Church
for a period of thirty years or so (c.556-c.587) after the Council of Constantinople and before

1
O. Günther (ed.), Epistulae imperatorum pontificum aliorum inde ab a.CCCLXVII usque ad a. DLIII
datae Avellana quae dicitur collection, Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum no. 35, 2 vols.
(Vienna 1895-98).

68
Gregory I categorically accepted the Council’s condemnation of the Three Chapters. As such,
the collection gives an insight into a division in the Church and the means by which the debate
was conducted.

The Collectio Avellana: Manuscripts and Otto Günther’s Edition

The Collectio Avellana comprises 244 or so letters and other documents, dating from the fourth
to the sixth century, mainly letters written by or to popes, but also by or to emperors,
magistrates, bishops, priests and synods. The collection is known to us through two eleventh-
century parchment codices, Vat. Lat. 3787 and Vat. Lat. 4961, and nine fifteenth- to
seventeenth-century paper codices. The provenance of Vat. Lat. 3787 is not known; that of Vat.
Lat 4961 is well established and it gave its name to collection. A note written in the fourteenth
century on the last folio of the codex, ‘hunc librum adquisivit dom[in]us Damianus S.’,
indicates that it arrived in the monastery of the Holy Cross of Fons Avellana while Peter
Damian was abbot, so in the period 1043-58. In the eighteenth century the Ballerini brothers
considered it the more famous and the older manuscript, and attributed to it the name
‘Avellana’.2 It is probable that the manuscript was written not long before its arrival in the
monastery.3 It remained there for some four hundred years before being given to Henricus
Norisius, a steward of the church of Eugubina (today, Gubbio), the diocese in which the
monastery fell. As on the front cover the words Emptum ex libris Cardinalis Sirleti are written,
we may reasonably assume it was acquired by the Cardinal Sirleto, the Vatican Librarian
(1570-85), on a private basis. After his death in 1585 it probably passed to the Vatican library.4
At the end of the sixteenth century Cardinal Carafa, Sirleto’s successor as Librarian, utilised
190 letters from the Avellana codex to compile a first tome of decretal letters of the greatest
pontiffs, while Cardinal Baronius (Librarian 1597-1607) used a large part of the letters unused
by Carafa for his ecclesiastical annals. This pattern of selective use or editing was repeated in
later centuries for both conciliar and papal letter collections, although several historians
including Friedrich Maassen, William Meyer and Paul Ewald, and Otto Günther looked at the
collection in its entirety.5

The 244 letters cover 186 years but most of them are concentrated in relatively short time-
frames. The first letter, an account of the double election of Damasus and Ursinus, may be
dated no earlier than 367; the most recent is Pope Vigilius’s First Constitutum which he
addressed to the emperor Justinian in May 553, when the Second Council of Constantinople
was about to condemn the Three Chapters. Maassen first classified the letters into six different
groups on the basis of their content: first, letters on the double election of Damasus and Ursinus

2
O. Günter, Collectio Avellana, Prolegomena, pp. xviii-xx.
3
Prolegomena, p. xxiii.
4
Prolegomena, pp. xxiii-xxv.
5
Prolegomena, pp. i-ii and xviii-xx.

69
in 366-7 (CA 1-13); second, the same of Boniface I and Eulalius in 418-19 (CA 14-37); third,
three letters of emperors and ten of two popes (Innocent I and Zosimus) on the history of
Pelagianism (CA 38-50); fourth, 28 letters relating to the monophysite heresy in the churches of
Alexander and Antioch in the time of Timothy Aelurus (bishop 457), Peter Mongos (bishop
477) and Peter the Fuller (bishop 469-71, 476, 485-88) (CA 51-78); fifth, letters relating to the
Acacian schism and Pelagianism, mainly in the pontificate of Gelasius I (492-96), with one
letter of Symmachus dated 512 (CA 79-104); sixth, letters from the pontificate of Hormisdas
(514-23)(CA 105-243). Maassen observed that the fifth group was divided by twelve letters
(CA 82-93) on dogmatic issues from the reigns of John II, Agapetus and Vigilius (534-53) but
he did not treat them as a separate group. Maassen’s work was not a full edition.6

Otto Günther comprehensively edited the Collectio in the 1890s. He established on

palaeographical grounds, and against most prevailing opinion, that both Vat. Lat. 3787 and Vat.
Lat. 4961 were copied in the eleventh century, and that the former (which he denoted as ‘V’)
was the older, and that the ‘Avellana’ (denoted as ‘codex α’) had been transcribed from V.7 His
deduction of the age order was based mainly on how the two sets of eleventh-century copyists
(nine in the case of V, four who produced codex α) handled abbreviated words in their
allocated quaternions.8 Although Günther identified some differences between the two
eleventh-century manuscripts, they are not material for the purposes of this chapter. His
analysis of the collection was mainly based on Vat. Lat. 3787 but the title of his edition
remained the Collectio Avellana. He considered that the Collectio comprised five small
collections or collectiunculae, that it had been collated soon after the most recent document
(May 553) and that, with one exception, the content of the Collectio of the eleventh-century
manuscripts was the same as that collated in the mid-sixth century.

In contrast to Maassen, Günther grouped the letters mainly on the basis of their archival origin.
He considered the source of the first group (CA 1-40), relating mainly to the double elections of
366 -67 and 418-19, was the archive of the prefect of the city of Rome.9 He attributed the
second group (CA 41-50 relating to the history of Pelagianism in 417-8) to the scrinium of the
Church of Carthage.10 His third group (CA 51-55) comprises five letters of Leo I which were
only to be found in the Collectio. He does not suggest an origin for these but the papal archive
was the most likely.11 The fourth group (CA 56-104) concerns ecclesiastical affairs in the reigns
of Popes Simplicius, Felix III, Gelasius and Symmachus (from 476 to 496 with Symmachus’s

6
Summarised by Günther in Avellana-Studien, Sitzungsberichte der Kais. Akademie der Wissenschaften
in Wien, Philosophisch-Historische Classe, Bd 134 (Vienna,1896), pp. 2-3.
7
Günther acknowledged that William Meyer had first concluded that codex V could not have been
copied from codex α. Prolegomena, p. xx.
8
Prolegomena, pp. xiiii-xxii.
9
Günther, Avellana-Studien, pp. 3-19; Blair-Dixon, ‘Memory and authority’, p. 62.
10
Günther, Avellana-Studien, pp. 19-27; Blair-Dixon, ‘Memory and authority’, p. 62.
11
Günther, Avellana-Studien, pp. 27.

70
letter of October 512 being an outlier). Günther noted that CA 82-93, the twelve documents
from the later pontificates, had been inserted into this group by chance but, like Maassen, he
did not treat them as a separate small group. His fifth collectiuncula (CA 105-243) comprises
some 138 items of correspondence from the pontificate of Pope Hormisdas (514-23). He
considered the papal archive a likely source for some of these small collections.12 He suggested
that letter from Epiphanius of Constantinople to Diodorus of Tyre about twelve gems (CA 244)
did not belong to the original collection, and would have been added at a later date. 13

Table 3.1 Günther’s Collectiunculae

Letters Dates Content Archive

1-40 366-67 and Double elections of Prefecture of the city of
418-19 Damasus and Ursinus Rome
and Boniface and
Eulalius
41-50 417-18 History of Pelagius Scrinium of Bishop
Aurelius of Carthage
51-55 June and August 5 Letters of Leo I Probably the papal
460 archive
56-81 & 94-104 476-495 and Letters of Simplicius, Probably the papal
512 Felix III, Gelasius, archive
Symmachus.
82-93 534-53 Letters of John II, Probably the papal
Agapetus and Vigilius archive
105-243 514-23 Letters, etc, relating to Probably the papal
the settlement of the archive
Acacian schism
244 Unknown Epiphanius on the 12 Later addition; source
Gems uncertain.

Günther considered that the overarching purpose of the Collectio was to gather documents not
collated elsewhere. He established that some 200 letters would not have survived but for their
inclusion in the collection, either because they only appear in it or because it was a resource for
other codices.14 While he thought that the collection was far from miscellaneous, he could not
attach any public purpose to it: he noted that, unlike the codices of Dionysius Exiguus, the
Collectio was ‘not complete and not compiled for the use of all’, and ‘evidence is not wanting,
by which it seems clear that [the Collectio] is nothing other than a certain wood and matter of
history, scraped together by I know not whom, and only intended in this form for private use’.15

12
Günther, Avellana-Studien, p. 66; A. Evers, ‘The Collectio Avellana: An ‘Eccentric’ Canonical
Collection?’ in R. Lizzi Testa (ed.), La Collectio Avellana fra Tardoantico e Alto Medioevo,
Cristianesimo nella storia, 39(1) (2018), p. 80 and n. 29.
13
Prolegomena, p. iii.
14
On the 45 or so letters that appear elsewhere see Prolegomena, Chapter 3, pp. lv-lxxxix
15
Prolegomena, p. ii: ‘observandum tamen Avellanam non esse collectionem ex omni parte perfectam
atque ut exempli causa collectionem decretalium Dionysii Exigui in omnium usum compositam atque
evulgatam;’ and ‘immo non desunt vestigia, quibus elucere videtur eam nihil esse nisi silvam quandam

71
Historiography

Until recently, the historiography of the Collectio Avellana was relatively limited for such a
potentially significant text. Two recent developments, a conscious focus on the Collectio and
the new scholarship on letter collections, are offering new insights and a potentially a new way
of interpreting the collection. A meeting of scholars at the International Conference on Patristic
Studies in 2007 ignited an interest in the Collectio, with an initial aspiration for a translation
and commentary.16 Two international conferences in Rome followed.17 Separately, the
University of Perugia, under the leadership of Rita Lizzi Testa, set up a research project on
fifth- and sixth-century canonical collections, and in September 2016 sponsored a seminar, the
results of which are in two publications.18 Almost contemporaneously, new scholarship on
ancient and late antique letter collections has emerged, largely prompted by a seminal article by
Roy Gibson in 2012.19 This new wave of interest has addressed some of the same questions
tackled by Günther: is the Collectio an integrated text or a collation of smaller ones, were some
of the collectiunculae or dossiers added later, and was there was an overarching objective? It
had also added new ones: what prompted the compilation of the Collectio, and is the collection
intrinsically one of canons or of late antique letters?

Most historians have struggled to see the Collectio as an integrated text. For Blair-Dixon the
negative portrayal of Pope Damasus, considered then and today a promoter of papal authority,
defied the internal logic of the text which supported bishops who maintained Roman
sovereignty in the face of imperial intervention.20 Dana Juliana Viezure sees not only the
accounts of the double elections but also CA 82-93 (the later letters of John II, Agapetus and
Vigilius) as challenges to a unified discourse or interpretation; she argues that the latter were a
later addition. Like Blair-Dixon, she also struggles with the depiction of Damasus which, she
considers, strays from the Collectio’s purpose of showing a strong unchallenged papacy.21

ac materiam historiae a nescio quo corrasam atque sub hac quidem forma non nisi privatis usibus
destinam’.
16
R. Lizzi Testa, opening speech of University of Perugia conference, September 2016: ‘Quando un
piccolo gruppo di studiosi e amici s’incontrò nel 2007, durante la Fifteenth International Conference on
Patristic Studies ad Oxford, si pensò inizialmente di realizzare una traduzione con commento
dell’Avellana attraverso il coordinamento di un’équipe internazionale di ricercatori’ — Text no longer
available on the internet.
17
Emperors, Bishops and Senators: The Significance of the Collectio Avellana, April 2011, and East and
West, Constantinople and Rome: Empire and Church in the Collectio Avellana, April 2013.
18
The conference on ‘The Collectio Avellana and other canonical collections of the Italian environment:
training, contents and contexts’, has resulted in Lizzi Testa (ed.), La Collectio Avellana fra Tardoantico
e Alto Medioevo, and R. Lizzi Testa and G. Marconi (eds.), The Collectio Avellana and its Revivals
(Cambridge Scholars Newcastle, 2019).
19
R. Gibson, ‘On the Nature of Ancient Letter Collections’, Journal of Roman Studies, 102 (2012), pp.
56-78.
20
K. Blair-Dixon, ‘Memory and authority’, pp. 70-73.
21
D.J. Viezure, ‘Collectio Avellana and the Unspoken Ostrogothic Reconstruction in the Sixth Century’
in Greatrex, Elton and McMahon (eds.), Shifting Genres in Late Antiquity, pp. 99-102.

72
Philippe Blaudeau shares the view that CA 82-93 are a subsequent addition, ‘imposed with a
certain brutality to a body already established’.22 Eckhard Wirbelauer argues that the collection
was the result of the Laurentian schism (498-506/7), and that subsequent documents were later
‘unordered and erroneous’ additions. He thinks that the first section (letters 1-40) was a pro-
Laurentian compilation, ‘a precious record of “loser’s history”’.23 Bronwen Neil follows
Wirbelauer’s view and suggests that Hormisdas’s correspondence and CA 82-93 were added
later; she considers that the collection’s five sections were compiled at different times and for
various reasons.24 More recently, Maria Escribano Paño has suggested that the two letters of the
emperor Maximus (CA 39-40) appear unrelated to the rest of section 1 and challenge the thesis
that a coherent discourse appears in the collection as a whole, or within its parts.25

Notwithstanding the broad consensus that the Collectio is not an integrated collection, some
historians have attempted to identify an overarching purpose or, at least, the compiler’s main
interest or interests. Mostly, they point to assertions of papal primacy or independence,
although several historians suggest different motivation. Blair-Dixon agrees with Günther that
the Collectio was a unified compilation, and states that its central theme was the promotion of
papal primacy.26 Evers considers that the reason behind the collection is obscure but notes that
it provides a closer look at the relationship between East and West, Rome and Constantinople,
Church and Empire over nearly two centuries.27 Viezure argues that interlocking narratives
were the affirmation of papal independence and the air-brushing out of history of King
Theoderic and his regime; with the elimination of the Ostrogoths, popes appeared as de facto
rulers of the West in the sixth century.28 Taking a different tack, Philippe Blaudeau promotes
the view that the collection was probably initially compiled by a Roman cleric in the 530s to
honour the memory and work of Dioscorus, Hormisdas’s delegate during the settlement of the
Acacian schism, who was elected bishop of Rome in the double election of 530.29 Also offering
a different explanation, Lizzi Testa argues that the main purpose was to collect primary
documents for the later composition of edicts, treatises, and laws.30

22
Blaudeau, Le Siège de Rome, p. 44. It is not clear why Blaudeau offers a later terminus post quem. He
says, on p. 45, that the complier would have had access to the acts of the Roman synod, but does not
explain why this is relevant if the original collection stopped with Hormisdas’s correspondence.
23
Quoted by Blair-Dixon, ‘Memory and authority’, pp. 63-4.
24
B. Neil, ‘Papal Letters and Letter Collections’ in C. Sogno, B.K. Storin, and E.J. Watts (eds.), Late
Antique Letter Collections: A Critical Introduction and Reference Guide, Joan Palevsky Imprint in
Classical Literature (Oakland, 2017), p. 452.
25
M.V. Escribano Paño, ‘Maximus’ Letters in the Collectio Avellana: A Comparative Study’ in Lizzi
Testa and Marconi (eds.), The Collectio Avellana and its Revivals, p. 82.
26
Blair-Dixon, ‘Memory and authority’, p.69.
27
A. Evers, ‘The Collectio Avellana: An ‘Eccentric’ Canonical Collection?’, pp. 72.
28
D.J. Viezure, ‘Collectio Avellana and the Unspoken Ostrogothic Reconstruction’, pp. 97-98.
29
P. Blaudeau, Le Siège de Rome, pp. 42 and 45.
30
R. Lizzi Testa, ‘Introduction’ in Lizzi Testa and Marconi (eds.), The Collectio Avellana and its
Revivals, pp. xiv and xxxii.

73
An emerging issue is, or should be, the Collectio’s genre: is it a canonical or a late antique
letter collection? The project established at the University of Perugia is predicated on the
assumption that it is a collection of canons. Although Lizzi Testa and others have come to
acknowledge that the Collectio does not contain many conciliar canons, they have nevertheless
sought to attribute to it the characteristics of canonical collections.31 Evers notes that
codification was becoming more common; he places the Collectio among the earlier ‘primitive’
canonical collections.32 Dominic Moreau argues that collections were responses to the
difficulties of the times: a dozen Italian collections, mostly Roman and including the Collectio,
were composed during two great ecclesiastical conflicts or around dossiers assembled during
them.33 Mar Marcos argues that late antique law collections were closely related to affirming
the authority of the bishop of Rome, and that the compiler’s selection of the anti-Pelagian
dossiers in the Collectio (CA 41-50, 94 & 97) fulfilled this objective.34 There has been little to
challenge the view that the Collectio is a collection of canons although an alternative has
emerged with the recent research on letter collections.

Late Antique Letter Collections

The new scholarship on letter collections has the potential to show how the Collectio should be
‘read’ and to comment on its nature, i.e. whether it is an episcopal or a papal letter collection.
While historians, notably Lizzi Testa and Evers, show an awareness of the scholarship, there is
little evidence that they are applying its insights.35 Letter collections were a well-established
genre in the ancient world that developed in the fifth century due to the increase in the number
of people who wished to make their presence felt within the empire, including educated and
politically experienced bishops.36 Roy Gibson analysed eleven collections, including four of
Christian bishops, compiled between the first century BC and the fifth century AD. 37 He notes
that they were usually arranged by theme, loose topic or addressee, or by artistic juxtaposition,
variety or design. Chronology, as a basis of organisation, usually played a small or no part.38
More than once he points to difficulties in interpretation and states that ‘a hermeneutical burden
is placed on the reader’.39 Mary Beard opined on an earlier occasion that ancient letter

31
Lizzi Testa, ‘Introduction’, The Collectio Avellana and its Revivals, p. viii.
32
A. Evers, ‘The Collectio Avellana — collecting with a reason?’ in Lizzi Testa and Marconi (eds.), The
Collectio Avellana and its Revivals, p. 25.
33
D. Moreau, ‘The Compilation Process of Italian Canonical Collections during Antiquity’ in Lizzi Testa
and Marconi (eds.), The Collectio Avellana and its Revivals, pp. 336-69.
34
M. Marcos, ‘Anti-Pelagian Dossiers in Late Antique Canonical Collections’ in Lizzi Testa and
Marconi (eds.), The Collectio Avellana and its Revivals, pp. 102-122.
35
Lizzi Testa, ‘Introduction’, pp. xi-xii; Evers, ‘An “Eccentric” Canonical Collection?’, p. 73.
36
C. Sogno, B.K. Storin, and E.J. Watts, ‘Introduction: Greek and Latin Epistolography and Epistolary
Collections in Late Antiquity’ in Sogno, Storin and Watts (eds.), Late Antique Letter Collections, p. 7.
37
Gibson, ‘On the Nature of Ancient Letter Collections’, pp. 56-78.
38
See Gibson’s paragraphs on The Plinian Model: Artistic Variety and Significant Juxtaposition, ‘On the
Nature of Ancient Letter Collections’, pp. 67-70.
39
Gibson, ‘On the Nature of Ancient Letter Collections’, pp. 68-69.

74
collections had ‘sophisticated, comprehensive and tactical strategies of internal arrangement,
comparable to the aesthetic of a poetry book’.40 Gibson offers no overall purpose for some
collections other than suggesting that the letter writers wished to show their skills in managing
political, social and familial relations and to present examples for emulation.41

Gibson’s work has been followed in short order by volumes edited by Bronwen Neil and
Pauline Allen, and by Cristina Sogno and others, which focus mainly on episcopal collections
and, to a much lesser extent, on papal ones.42 With the entry of bishops, the range of letters
expanded and the purposes of some collections changed: some bishops remained motivated by
a wish to draw attention to their relationships with the cultural elite; the objectives of others
were polemical and/or didactic.43 Among the latter, Allen identifies the Documenta ad origines
monophysitarum illustrandas, and a collection of Theodoret of Cyrrhus.44 The Documenta is a
Syriac text, most of whose documents date from c.560-68; its purpose was to support the
patriarch of Antioch, Paul the Black, ‘whose turbulent and colourful career needed much
defence’.45 One of three of Theodoret’s collections which survive comprises thirty-six letters
conserved in Acta of the Council of Ephesus; the rationale behind many of its letters was to
discredit or rehabilitate his christological and canonical positions.46 While Allen and others
tend to identify one such intention or objective for each collection, Bradley K. Storin identifies
four concurrent objectives in the collection of Gregory of Nazianzus, albeit he describes them
as ‘programmatic motifs’.47 Papal collections are distinguishable from episcopal ones: they are
invariably preserved in canon law collections made from the sixth century and their purpose
was ‘not to fashion the image of the author, but to shape the image of the office of the bishop of
Rome’.48

Argument and Methodology

Against the trend of previous and recent scholarship I argue that the Collectio Avellana is to be
understood as a letter collection and that it had the three overarching objectives, which I set out

40
M. Beard, ‘Ciceronian Correspondences: Making a Book out of Letters’ in Classics in Progress:
Essays on Ancient Greece and Rome, ed. T.P. Wiseman (Oxford, 2002), pp.103-44, quoted by Sogno,
Storin and Watts (eds.), Late Antique Letter Collections, p.2.
41
Gibson, ‘On the Nature of Ancient Letter Collections’, p.74.
42
B. Neil and P. Allen (eds.), Collecting Early Christian Letters: From the Apostle Paul to Late
Antiquity (Cambridge, 2015); Sogno, Storin and Watts (eds.), Late Antique Letter Collections.
43
On the first point, see Sogno, Storin and Watts, ‘Introduction: Greek and Latin Epistolography’, pp. 6-
7
44
P. Allen, ‘Rationales for episcopal letter-collections in late antiquity’ in Neil and Allen (eds.),
Collecting Early Christian Letters, pp. 18-19.
45
Allen, ‘Rationales for episcopal letter-collections’, pp. 20-21.
46
Allen, ‘Rationales for episcopal letter-collections’, p.28.
47
B. K. Storin, ‘The Letter Collection of Gregory of Nazianzus’ in Sogno and Storin and Watts (eds.),
Late Antique Letter Collections, pp. 84-5. The identified programmes were: to dissociate Gregory from
the imperial court and episcopal conferences; to tie his identity to ‘philosophy’; to establish his literary
and social credentials; and to show his relationship with Basil of Caesarea.
48
Neil, ‘Papal Letters and Letter Collections’, p.449.

75
at the start of this chapter: defending Pope Vigilius, showing developments in papal authority,
and finally opining on Church-Empire relations. I also argue that the Collectio should be
understood as an institutional response to the double challenges of 476 and 482 (the demise of
western emperors and imperial challenges to papal primacy on doctrine). The Roman Church
developed new expressions of primacy which were a direct response to imperial interventions
in doctrinal issues which started in 482. Outside the supportive structure of the western Roman
Empire, popes re-invented their position as the centre of the Christian communio by developing
a new interpretation of the power ‘to bind and loose’ which emerged in the Acacian schism.
The compiler’s attempt to delineate relations between the Church and emperors reflected
changes that were consequent to 476; prior to that date it had not been necessary to define the
emperor’s role in the Roman Church.

In this chapter, I place the content of the Collectio in its historic context and apply some of the
insights of the new scholarship on episcopal and papal letter collections. The historical context
comprises four developments in the hundred or so years before the Second Council of
Constantinople in 553: the success of Pope Leo I at the Council of Chalcedon in 451; emperors’
need to manage the opponents of Chalcedon in the East (especially miaphysites); the
emergence of ‘theopaschism’ as an expression of opposition to the Council; and the demise of
the line of emperors in the West in 476, which changed the wider environment in which the
Roman Church functioned. The new scholarship’s insights of particular relevance are those
bearing on the design and the internal coherence of collections.

I divide the exposition of the argument that follows into five Parts. In Part I, I make some
preliminary observations on the structure of the Collectio as a letter collection. These
paragraphs contain assertions and argument which I justify in the subsequent Parts. In Parts 2,3
and 4, I show how the compiler sought to give effect to each of the three objectives identified
above. In Part 5 I state my view on the compiler, his background and his target readership.

Part 1: Preliminary Observations on the Structure and Organisation of

the Collectio Avellana

Aside from the position of what I designate as Section 5 (CA 82-92), the Collectio Avellana is
primarily organised chronologically but, I consider, it also has design features which, once
appreciated, help reveal the compiler’s objectives. Gibson stresses that the hermeneutical
burden is on the reader of a letter collection. He observes that on a first reading Pliny’s nine
books of letters appear to reflect random placing, but on a second attempt patterns begin to
emerge: letters on the same subject, although often widely scattered, almost invariably preserve

76
a narrative order; the books have some chronological ordering even if individual books are not
so ordered; and ‘most strikingly’, there was artistic design with the addressee of the final letter
of Book 9 (Fuscus) creating a dialogue with the first letter of the collection (addressed to
Clarus), suggesting movement from light to darkness.49 I suggest that the Collectio is at the
other end of the continuum: the chronological ordering is immediately apparent but, on further
reading and analysis, design features surface.

In examining the Collectio and each constituent collection, I looked to see if it has design
features and/or unifying themes. I have kept an open mind on what may constitute design. I
follow Maassen rather than Günther in thinking that the sections should be evaluated on the
basis of content rather than archival origin. I have looked to see if all documents contribute to
the theme of their small collections or if they belong elsewhere. I have kept open the possibility
that departures from a chronological basis and identified symmetries were intended. I have not
confined myself to seeking a single overarching editorial objective for the collection.

I divide, as Günter did, the Collectio into five component parts, although I modify his
categorisation and I use of the term ‘section’ rather than ‘small collections’ as I consider that
the parts are more integrated than the latter term implies. Table 3.2 below sets out my proposed
ordering, which broadly follows Günther but I make two adjustments to the composition of the
sections and I subdivide three of the sections. He treated the five letters of Pope Leo I (CA 51-
55) as a separate collection but there is insufficient reason to distinguish them from the letters
of Pope Simplicius which follow: both sets of letters mainly concern the position of the see of
Alexandria and were addressed variously to the eastern emperor, the archbishop of
Constantinople, eastern bishops and/or clergy. I include them as part of Section 3. I treat CA
82-93, which count in their number the exchange of letters which represented the Roman
Church’s acceptance of the theopaschite formula and Pope Vigilius’s First Constitutum, on a
chronological basis as Section 5.

I consider that Section 1 (CA 1-40) is best understood when divided into subsections. Günther
considered it concerned the schisms of Ursinus and Eulalius and other matters.50 I identify four
subsections and suggest that, in their totality, they reflect the compiler’s positions on Church-
Empire relations. The first subsection (CA 1-2: the Praefatio and the Libellus qorumdam
schmismaticorum) indicates that the Collectio is a polemic in support of Pope Vigilius and
against Justinian’s interventions to define doctrine. This theme of opposition to imperial
intervention is mirrored by the fourth subsection (CA 38-40). The fact that letters of the latter
subsection are chronologically out of sequence supports the notion that its position in the

49
Gibson, ‘On the Nature of Ancient Letter Collections’, p. 68.
50
Prolegomena, p. iii.

77
section has a structural purpose.51 These subsections bookend the other two, documents
reflecting on imperial involvement in two double elections (of Damasus/Ursinus and Boniface
I/Eulalius). Collectively, the four subsections outline the role of the emperor in the Church.

I differ from Günther in my interpretation of Section 2 (CA 41-50). Whereas he, like Maassen,
thought that it narrated the history of Pelagius (historiam Pelagii) in 417-18, I show that the
letters were part of the defence of Vigilius in that they provide historical examples of prelates
changing their minds.52

I include letters CA 51-81 and CA 94-104 in Section 3 which I describe as Pre- and Early
Acacian schism. I divide the section in three. The content of each subsection differs, although
there is an observable correspondence between subsections (a) and (c). The first subsection
mainly comprises letters of Popes Leo and Simplicius concerning the sees of Alexandria and
Antioch in the period before the start of the Acacian schism.53 The subsection ends with CA
70, the report of the Synod of Rome (in 485, a year into the schism), which explained the
excommunication of Acacius and those of Misenus and Vitalis, two Italian bishops who, as
papal envoys, were suborned by the archbishop.54 The third subsection, CA 79-81 & 93-104,
discusses two topics, the Acacian schism and Pelagianism, but has its own coherence. All but
two of the letters were written by Pope Gelasius, all but three were addressed to bishops or
clergy in the Balkans (Dalmatia and/or Dardania). The third subsection mirrors the first in
ending with a report of a Roman synod at which Misenus, but not Vitalis or Acacius, was
readmitted to communion.55

The second subsection (CA 71-78) differs significantly from the other two. It comprises a series
of forged letters purportedly sent to Peter the Fuller, the patriarch of Antioch, on the subject of
his interpolated phrase in the Trisagion hymn. In terms of design, the subsection introduces
‘theopaschism’ which features in Sections 4 and 5, and the forgers, who may have been known
at the time, were the Acoimetae monks (also known as the Sleepless Monks of the monastery
of Eirenaion), who were the party identified for excommunication in the theopaschite formula
acceptance letters of 534 and 536, which are in Section 5.56

There is a unity across Section 3’s subsections. As mentioned, the first and third end with
reports of synods. The report of the synod of 495 is actually the penultimate letter of the

51
CA 38-40 were dated to shortly after 20 June 404, 386 or 387, and 385 respectively, while the dates of
CA 14-37 are 418 or 419/20, and CA 41-50 were written in 417-18.
52
Prolegomena, p. iii.
53
CA 51-64 and 68-69 concern the see of Alexandria, while CA 65-67 discuss Antioch.
54
CA 70.
55
CA 103.
56
A. Grillmeier with T. Hainthaler, trans. P. Allen and J. Cawte, Christ in the Christian Tradition (Vol.
2): From the Council of Constantinople (Part 2): The Church of Constantinople in the Sixth Century
(London, 1995), pp. 252-62.

78
Section, which might appear to spoil the symmetry but, I consider, the last letter (CA 104) has a
purpose of its own: in closing the section Pope Symmachus refers back to Peter Mongos,
Timothy Aelurus and Peter the Fuller, the subjects of the first two subsections.57 Both the
second and the third subsections have examples of popes (Felix III and Gelasius I)
demonstrating leadership on a doctrinal issue.

Section 4 comprises the majority of the letters and documents in the Collectio; all relate to the
settlement of the Acacian schism during the Pontificate of Hormisdas (514-23). I consider it is
useful to sub-divide the section into pre-settlement (CA 105-40), settlement (CA 141-70) and
the aftermath (CA 171-243).

I have no explanation for the positioning of CA 82-92 (Section 5) in the middle of Section 3 as
they are significantly out of chronological order. The sequence contains Pope Vigilius’s First
Constitutum (CA 83), which is arguably the most significant document in the collection. As the
most recent it provides a terminus post quem for the compilation. Given the care with which, as
I show, the compiler selected the Praefatio as the first letter of collection, the position of the
First Constitutum defies explanation, and we may speculate that at some stage a copyist may
have mispositioned the dossier.

Table 3.2 The Revised Outline of the Sections in the Collectio Avellana

Section Years Covered Letters Subject Matter and subsections

1 367-419 CA 1-40 a. Praefatio and Libellus (CA 1-2)

[Construction of St Paul’s Outside the
Walls (CA 3)]
b. Double election of Damasus and Ursinus
(CA 4-13)
c. Double election of Boniface I and
Eulalius (CA 14-37)
d. Three imperial letters on Church-Empire
relations (CA 38-40)
2 417-18 CA 41-50 Prelates changing their minds
3 460-512 CA 51-81 and Pre- and Early Acacian Schism
94-104: a. Pre-Schism: Popes Leo I and Simplicius
(CA 51-70)
b. Letters to Peter the Fuller of Antioch (CA
71-78)
c. Popes Gelasius I and Symmachus to the
Bishops of Dalmatia and Dardania (CA 79-
81 and 94-104)
4 515-21 CA 105-243: Settlement of the Acacian schism
a. Pre-Settlement (CA 105-40)
b. Settlement (CA 141-70)
c. The aftermath of the settlement (CA 171-
243)
5 534-40 and CA 82-93 The Theopaschite Formula and the Three
553 Chapters controversy

57
CA 104.4 and 104.5.

79
Part 2: A Defence of Pope Vigilius

One of the compiler’s main objectives was, I argue, to construct a defence of Pope Vigilius
and/or the position he represented. Vigilius, under pressure from the emperor Justinian,
condemned the Three Chapters in his Second Constitutum in February 554. In the previous year
(May 553) he had defended them in his First Constitutum; earlier still, he had condemned the
Chapters in the Iudicatum (548). The Three Chapters were certain works of Theodore of
Mopsuestia (d. 428), Theodoret of Cyrrhus (d. 460?), and Ibas of Edessa (d. 457). Justinian had
started to focus on their condemnation in 532 when miaphysite delegates, whom he had
summoned to a conference to find a basis of compromise between supporters and opponents of
Chalcedon, directed their fire on the works of Theodoret and Ibas. Even more than the
theopaschite formula, the proposed condemnation called in question the decision of Chalcedon
as the Council had endorsed the passages or the authors personally. Ostensibly, Vigilius’s
condemnation of the Chapters in 554 required defending. The compiler sought to achieve his
objective in three ways: first, by using a historical example in Section 1 to underscore Vigilius’
defiance of the emperor (focusing on his defiance of the emperor in issuing the First
Constitutum); second, by presenting the pope in Section 5 in the best possible light; third, by
arguing in Section 2 that popes and prelates could legitimately change their minds.

The Parallel Cases of Pope Liberius (352-66) and Pope Vigilius (537-555)

The first letter of the Collectio was intended, I argue, to portray Vigilius as a pope prepared to
defy the emperor in defence of the Roman Church’s right to determine orthodox doctrine. The
Praefatio or the Quae Gesta sunt inter Liberium et Felicem episcopos, narrates, if briefly, the
difficulties that Pope Liberius (352-66) experienced with the emperor Constantius II (337-61)’s
involvement in religious issues in the fourth century. Ostensibly about Liberius and
Constantius, I suggest the Praefatio’s inclusion was intended as a comment on Vigilius and
Justinian. There are strong parallels between the situations that Popes Liberius and Vigilius
encountered. I suggest that there were two points that the compiler wanted the reader to note:
first, that Vigilius was a pope who defended a doctrinal position in the face of opposition from
the emperor; second, there was an important juridical principle that had a bearing on Vigilius’s
position in 553.

Strong historical parallels can be drawn between the events after the Council of Nicea (325)
and those after Chalcedon (451), and between the actions of the emperors Constantius II (337-
61) and Justinian (527-65). Neither Nicea, nor Chalcedon settled the Christological issues of
their day. Constantine had summoned and managed Nicea. The Council defined Christ’s nature

80
as ‘consubstantial’ with the Father. The period after Constantine’s death in 337, particularly the
years 341-361, saw the debate re-open.58 Opinion divided between those who adhered to the
Nicene settlement and others who were unable to accept the term consubstantial and its
implications. Supporters of Nicea were mainly to be found in the West, opponents in the East,
although Athanasius, bishop of Alexandria and a staunch supporter of Nicea, defies this
categorisation. This division was to be mirrored after the Council of Chalcedon, which declared
that Christ had ‘one person but two natures’. Once again the main supporters of the Council
were in the West, and its opponents almost universally in the East. After 350 Constantius
sought to impose doctrinal and ecclesiastical unity on the divided Church. In 359 he strong-
armed two synods, at Ariminium in the West and at Seleucia in the East, into accepting the
formula that ‘the Son is like the Father’, and into agreeing not to use the terms ousia or
homoousios, which had been adopted at Nicea. These actions were echoed later by Justinian’s
attempts to achieve uniformity of belief across East and West by imposing the theopaschite
formula and by engineering the condemnation of the Three Chapters at the Council of
Constantinople in 553. Ultimately, both popes succumbed to their emperor: as a price for
returning from exile, Liberius accepted the condemnation of Athanasius and signed up to a new
creed drawn up by the Council of Sirmium;59 Vigilius finally condemned the Three Chapters in
his Second Constitutum.

I argue that the first two sentences of the Praefatio signify that an objective of the Collectio
was to defend Vigilius’s reputation as an upholder of orthodoxy. They state that Constantius
ordered all bishops to condemn Athanasius of Alexandria (328-73), that most bishops through
fear of the emperor condemned him, but Liberius and three others (Eusebius of Vercellae,
Lucifer of Caligari, and Hilary of Poitiers) did not wish to pass sentence, and were
consequently exiled.60 We are given to understand that a doctrinal issue was at stake in that
Constantius sought Athanasius’s condemnation because the latter opposed Arians
(haereticis).61 As the first letter in a collection, I suggest that we should expect it to be
significant, a point supported by the fact that, in a largely chronologically ordered collation, it
is not the earliest letter.62 The letter appears to anticipate the First Constitutum, chronologically
the last document in the collection: the Constitutum was a direct challenge to Justinian’s
authority on a matter of doctrine by a pope who was a virtual prisoner of the emperor in

58
T.D. Barnes, Athanasius and Constantius: Theology and Politics in the Constantinian Empire
(Cambridge MA, 1993), Chapters, III, VII, XI, and XIII.
59
Barnes, Athanasius and Constantius, p. 138.
60
CA 1.1.
61
CA 1.1: ‘haereticis Arrianis … Constantio, qui et Athanasium episcopum resistentem haereticis
persecutus est’.
62
The earliest was CA 5, dated to before 15 September 367.

81
Constantinople.63 The correspondence between the Praefatio and the First Constitutum is clear
and indicates that the opening sentences were intended to signal that the Collectio concerned
the defence of orthodox doctrine by a pope, namely Vigilius.

I suggest that the compiler of the Collectio also wanted the reader to note a juridical principle
in the Praefatio that applied to Vigilius’s position in 553. The opening sentences refer to
Athanasius being condemned although he was innocent and unheard (inauditum).64 The
concept is repeated at the end of the letter, when Italian bishops, whom Damasus invited to a
birthday celebration and whom he encouraged to pass judgement on Ursinus, replied ‘we have
come to a birthday party, not to condemn someone unheard’.65 Later in the collection, Pope
Zosimus criticised African bishops for passing judgement on Pelagius without hearing him; he
declared that it was not the Roman custom to condemn any man before he has a chance to
confront his accusers.66 These statements reflect Vigilius’s situation in May 553: the emperor’s
representatives at the Council of Constantinople refused to accept the First Constitutum and
Justinian issued a decree enacting that the pope’s name was to be removed from the diptychs.
Vigilius was, in effect, suspended from his position as pope without being heard.67

Given the way the Liber Pontificalis depicts him, Liberius may appear a questionable model for
Vigilius, but he may have been seen differently in the fourth and sixth centuries. The Liber
notes that Liberius gave his assent to the heretic Constantius and that from the time of his recall
there was a great persecution in Rome.68 It also states that his rival Felix II proclaimed the
emperor a heretic and consequently suffered martyrdom.69 In contrast, the Praefatio is positive
and this was not the only sympathetic view of Liberius. Athanasius, who until Liberius’s
capitulation in 357 had been supported by the pope, opined that his surrender ‘reveals both [his
opponents’] violent behaviour and also Liberius’s hatred of heresy and his vote for Athanasius,
when he still had a free choice. Statements produced under torture and against a person’s
original judgement express the wishes not of the intimidated, but of the torturers’.70 The
ecclesiastical historian Sozomen, writing in the fifth century, largely echoed the Praefatio in
stating that when Constantius visited Rome the people called loudly for Liberius’s return from
exile.71 As to the situation at his return, ‘The people of Rome regarded Liberius as a very

63
R. Price, The Acts of the Council of Constantinople of 553 with related texts on the Three Chapters
Controversy, Translated Texts for Historians, no. 51, 2 vols (Liverpool, 2009/2012), vol. 1, p. 53.
64
CA 1.1: ‘pontifices inauditum innocentemque damnantes’.
65
CA 1.13: ‘nos ad natale convenimus, non ut inauditum damnemus’.
66
CA 46.11: ‘non est consuetudo Romanis damnare aliquem hominem priusquam is, qui accusatur,
praesentes habeat accusatores locumque defendi accipiat ad abluenda crimina’.
67
Price, Acts of the Council of Constantinople, 1, p. 53.
68
LP 37.6.
69
LP 38.1.
70
Athanasius, The History of the Arians, translation (Limovia.net, 2013), p. 85.
71
Sozomen, The Ecclesiastical History of Sozomen, Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian
Church, trans with introduction by H. Wace and P. Schaff, Second Series Vol. 2 (Oxford/New York,
1891), IV.11, p. 307.

82
excellent man, and esteemed him highly on account of the courage he had evinced in opposing
the emperor, so that they had even [incited] sedition on his account, and had gone so far as to
shed blood’. 72 While it requires an element of speculation, for some the memory of Liberius in
Rome in the sixth century may have been different to how it appears in the Liber and, if so, he
would have been a credible precursor.

An Implicit Defence of Pope Vigilius (Section 5)

The content of Section 5 is, I consider, a significant, if implicit, defence of Pope Vigilius. Only
three of the twelve letters that comprise the section are attributable to him: two letters written to
Justinian and Archbishop Menas of Constantinople in 540 and the First Constitutum.73 I suggest
that the two letters need to be understood in the context of the exchanges of letters with
Justinian by which Popes John II in 534 and Agapetus in 536 accepted the theopaschite
formula. Those exchanges also appear in the section.74 Acceptance of the formula was a defeat
for the Roman Church as it potentially re-opened the definition of Christ’s nature that had been
agreed at Chalcedon. In his two letters Vigilius was responding to Justinian’s request that he
confirm Agapetus’ acceptance of the formula; the letters show him attempting to repair the
situation left by his predecessors. By selecting the First Constitutum in which Vigilius
demonstrated courage in refusing to condemn the Three Chapters, rather than the earlier
Iudicatum or the later Second Constitutum in which he condemned them, the compiler appears
to have wished to show the pope at his best.

Vigilius’s response to Justinian’s request was not a straightforward affirmation of his

predecessor’s statement. The nature of the defeat represented by acceptance of the formula in
534 and 536 was made more apparent by the absence in the core documents of the reference to
Pope Leo’s Tome and the Council of Chalcedon in combination which, as I discuss below, had
become a hallmark assertion of papal primacy in the early sixth century.75 The defeat was
further underlined by John’s and Agapetus’s willingness to respond positively to Justinian’s
requests in the same letters to excommunicate the Acoimetae monks. Their excommunication
would have been symbolically important as they had been pro-Chalcedonian supporters of the
papacy in the Acacian schism and they were opponents of Justinian’s attempt to impose the
formula.76 In replying, the two popes equated the communio fidei over which popes had control
with those who agreed with the emperor’s profession of faith: for instance, Agapetus, after
confirming that Justinian’s profession was orthodox, stated that ‘if any of our catholic faith

72
Sozomen, Ecclesiastical History, IV. 15, p. 310.
73
CA 92, 93, and 83 (Vigilii constitutum de tribus capitulis).
74
CA 84 and 91.
75
See pp. 90-92 below.
76
J. Meyendorff, Imperial Unity and Christian Divisions: The Church AD 450-680, Church in History
Series, no. 2 (New York, 1989), pp. 191 and 201.

83
contends otherwise (contraire temptaverit), he will be excommunicated’.77 The stark nature of
this equation was slightly modified by Pope John II who stated that he had attempted to recall
the monks to the right faith, as sheep to the sheepfold, and by Pope Agapetus who declared that
he would in no way restore them to communion unless, in a way compliant with the canons,
they followed apostolic doctrine.78 Given that, as I show below, popes had acquired a new
power to determine membership of the Christian community, which was implicitly recognised
in Justinian’s request that they excommunicate the monks, I consider John’s and Agapetus’s
willingness to do so was a major concession and it is not surprising that Vigilius tried to regain
ground.79

In his response to Justinian in 540 Vigilius referred three times to Leo and his Tome,
repetitions that were unlikely to have been accidental.80 Despite ‘embracing and approving all
things’ in Justinian’s written statement of faith, he did not go as far as his predecessors in
endorsing the emperor’s position.81 He did not suggest that disagreement with Justinian’s
profession of faith was a basis for excommunication: in discussing specific sanctions against
heretics or dissenters, he referred, not to the emperor’s opponents, but to those who had been
engaged in the Christological disputes of the fifth and early sixth centuries.82 He specifically
distinguished his position in emphasising the route back for those repenting: ‘[we do not
deviate] from the faith of our above mentioned predecessors,… unless perhaps if [heretics],
after removing the fog of heretical doctrine in which they were wallowing, have sought to
follow the truth of the faith with the correction of a matching penance’ (italics added).83
Vigilius underscored this point with an additional reference to an ‘entrance of repentance and
communion’ for those who had ‘come to their senses’ and accepted the decisions of the four
synods (Nicea, Constantinople, Ephesus I and Chalcedon) and of pontiffs of the apostolic see.84
Vigilius repeated the message in similar terms in his letter to Menas, stressing that the
touchstone for communion was adherence to the decisions of the four synods and those of Leo

77
CA 91.4: ‘si quis nostrae catholicae fidei contraire temptaverit, … <a> sancta communione efficiatur
extraneus’.
78
CA 84.26: ‘apostolicis suasionibus ad rectan fidem et velut oves, quae perierant errantes, ad ovile
contendimus revocare dominicum’; CA. 91.5: ‘nisi sub satisfaction canonica doctrinam apostolicam
fuerint consecuti, nullatenus patimur eos sacrae communioni restitui’.
79
See pp. 95-101 below.
80
On the significance of Leo, his Tome and Chalcedon see pp. 91-92 below.
81
CA 92.7: ‘amplectantesque et in omnibus comprobantes fidei vestrae libellum’.
82
For instance, CA 92.4: ‘Hormisdas atque Iohannes senior nec non et Agapitus decessores nostri per
omnia conservantes universos Nestorianae atque Eutychianae sequaces haeresis iustae mucrone
sententiae perculerunt’. CA 92.9 includes references to Severus of Antioch, Peter Apamena and
Anthimus of Constantinople.
83
CA 92.7-8: ‘nihilque a saepe dictorum prodecessorum nostrorum fide deviantes, sub qualibet occasione
servamus, nisi forte si haeresis, in qua volutantur, amputata caligine supra scriptae fidei veritatem
paenitentiae competentis voluerint correctione sectari’.
84
CA, 92.10: ‘secundum praesulum sedis apostolicae constituta his, qui resipuerint et praecedentium
synodorum vel supra scriptorum apostolicae sedis pontificum suscererint constituta, paenitentiae et
communionis adytum reseremus’. The synods are mentioned in CA 92.6.

84
I.85 I suggest Vigilius’s modifications to the exchanges with Justinian show him attempting to
reposition the papacy in its relations with the emperor and to recover the initiative over the
papal claim to control membership of the Christian community, rather than simply placing that
power at the service of the secular ruler.

Selection of the First Constitutum put Vigilius in a better light than his condemnations of the
Three Chapters would have done, but the document is also significant for presenting the pope
as having a principled position that was grounded both in the decisions of Chalcedon and in the
developing understanding of the pope’s ‘power to bind and loose’ which emerged in the
Acacian schism. Vigilius’s defence of Theodoret of Cyrrhus and the letter of Ibas to Mari was
straightforward and unqualified. The reputations of both were attacked by the miaphysite
delegates to a conference in Constantinople in 532 on the grounds they had challenged some of
Cyril of Alexandria’s Twelve Chapters, which were the basis of his criticism of Nestorius and
his management of the Council of Ephesus I (431). Miaphysites claimed that their own
positions were consistent with Cyril’s theology, the touchstone of orthodoxy in the East. In
defence of the Chapters, Vigilius argued that the Council of Chalcedon had accepted that
Theodoret had embraced the theology of Cyril and that his previous criticism of the
Alexandrian prelate should be passed over in silence. He further argued the Council had
accepted that Ibas had misunderstood certain of Cyril’s passages and that his views were in fact
orthodox.86 Vigilius’s approach on Theodore of Mopsuestia differed: he anathematized sixty of
his extracts but refused to condemn him as he had died ‘in the peace of the Church’.87
Importantly, in his defence of Theodore, he quoted passages from two letters in the Collectio,
the report of the Synod of Rome (495) and Gelasius I’s letter to the Dardanians, which
discussed the power to bind and loose and the limitations of that power in regard to the
deceased.88

Vigilius’s stance on the condemnation of Theodore sharpened the debate on whether the pope
or Church had the power to bind or loose post-mortem. This debate was intimately related to
another discussion, whether saints were active after death and could perform miracles, the

85
CA 93.5: ‘ut si vel eorum vel quorumlibet errantium quis agnita catholicae fidei veritate paenitentiam
agens reverti voluerit et haeresi, in qua volutatur, errore concepto scripturae quoque professione
universam errorum suorum ac complicum damnaverit pravitatem et apostolicae sequens instituta
doctrinae anathema dixerit ei, qui vel praedictas quattuor synodus in fidei causa non sequitur vel beatae
recordationis prodecessoris nostri Leonis in omnibus non confitetur … tunc communioni nostrae, quam
nulli nos negare convenit paenitenti … satisfaction modis aggregator…’
86
CA 83.221-27 (Theodoret of Cyrrhus) and CA 83.236-83 (the Letter of Ibas), translated by Price, The
Acts of the Council of Constantinople, vol. 2, pp. 191-93 and 195-205.
87
CA 83.29-197 (the 60 extracts) and CA 83.204-20 (‘death while in the peace of the Church’), translated
by Price, Acts of the Council of Constantinople, vol. 2, pp. 150-85 and 186-91. On the latter point see
also p.142.
88
CA 101.8 and CA 83.215; CA 103.28 and CA 83.216. See Price, Acts of the Council of Constantinople,
vol. 2, pp. 189-90. Other letters in the Collectio which are quoted in the First Constitutum are CA 56 and
60, for which see CA 83.295 and 83.296 and Price, Acts of the Council, p. 209.

85
central idea on which the economy of salvation associated with saints’ cults and a major source
of the Church’s income depended.89 Even if Justinian ignored the First Constitutum, there was a
perceived need among eastern churchmen to address the point behind the pope’s defence of
Theodore. Eustratius, who engaged with Gregory I on the post-mortem activity of saints,
secured for his patron Eutychius the see of Constantinople through his successful justification
of post-mortem anathematization.90 Gregory I resolved this issue for the Roman Church when,
as Pelagius II’s deacon, he defended the authority of the Council of 553 in a letter to the Istrian
bishops.91 Up to that time, the Church’s position may have been in doubt.92 I suggest that, in
selecting the First Constitutum and showing that Vigilius’s position was consistent with that of
Gelasius, the compiler set out to show Vigilius as a principled opponent of the condemnation
and a defender of orthodoxy. In presenting this image, the compiler probably felt the need to
explain why Vigilius had earlier condemned the Chapters in his Iudicatum; he devoted a
section to explaining why popes could change their minds.

Popes could change their minds (Section 2)

Section 2 ostensibly refers to the condemnation of Pelagius and his chief supporter Caelestius
in 417-18 but, if we consider more of the letters in the section, their purpose seems to provide
precedents for popes changing their minds and, as such, they spoke to the position of Pope
Vigilius in the years 548-53. I consider that Pelagianism per se was not the compiler’s concern
in selecting documents for the section; nor do I consider, notwithstanding two significant letters
by Gelasius I on the heresy, that it was a theme in the Collectio.93 Instead, I suggest, he was
interested in providing examples of a pope changing his ruling on Pelagius: Pope Zosimus
(417-18) first overturned Innocent I (401-17)’s judgement on Pelagius, then reversed his own.
The letters showing this are followed by two others which imply that Pope Sixtus III (432-40),
and Cyril of Alexandria, probably the most eminent eastern theologian of the fifth century, also
changed their minds about Pelagius. I suggest that the intended message of the section was not

89
This subject is covered comprehensively by Matthew Dal Santo in Debating the Saints’ Cult in the Age
of Gregory the Great (Oxford, 2012). See in particular pp. 36-37 and 55-62.
90
Dal Santo, Debating the Saints’ Cult, p. 58.
91
Markus dates the letter to before or just after Gregory’s return from Constantinople — Gregory the
Great and his World, p. 128, n.13. In this he mainly follows Paul Meyvaert who argues on the basis of
Gregory’s use of Greek sources, that his letter was written at or about the time he returned from his role
as apocrisiarius in Constantinople (c.585/86), so between c.585 and 590 — ‘A Letter of Pelagius II
Composed by Gregory the Great’ in J. C. Cavadini (ed.), Gregory the Great: A Symposium (Notre
Dame/London, 1995), pp. 94-116 but particularly p.100. Gregory also settled the debate in respect of
saint-cults — see Dal Santo, Debating the Saints’ Cult, pp. 71-83 but particularly p. 78.
92
I suggest that it is of some significance that several of the relatively few annotations on the two
eleventh-century manuscripts are against paragraphs that relate to the principle of not condemning post-
mortem. As this issue had been settled by c.585 it seems likely that the annotations were originally made
in the period 553-c.585 when the issue still mattered and the eleventh-century copyist reproduced them
faithfully. The annotations appear against paragraphs 214-218 of the First Constitutum.
93
Gelasius’s letters are CA 94 and 97.

86
a history of Pelagianism but the principle that popes and prelates did and could legitimately
change their minds on a doctrinal issue.

The key letters of the section are CA 41, in which Innocent condemned Pelagius, and three
letters of Zosimus (CA 45, 46 and 50). In condemning Pelagius, Innocent endorsed the
decisions of two African synods held in 416.94 On Innocent’s death, Caelestius, Pelagius’ major
follower, went to Rome and submitted himself to the new pope’s judgement. In the first of his
letters to Aurelius and all African bishops, Zosimus told the African bishops that they had been
too hasty in their judgement, and called on those who had a case against Pelagius to appear in
Rome within two months.95 Subsequently, in a somewhat opaque letter, Zosimus cleared
Pelagius.96 After the African bishops appealed to the emperor Honorius at Ravenna, Zosimus
backtracked. In his letter of 21 March 418, which is replete with assertions of papal authority,
he informed them that ‘we have done nothing that we would not refer to you by letter, and we
are giving this in a fraternal spirit and consulting on common basis, not because we do not
know what needs to be done, … but because, in an equal manner, we wish to share with you the
management of the person who had been accused before you’.97 Zosimus’s volte-face was
complete.

The other letters in the section divide into those which supplement this picture and two which
underscore the theme of popes changing their minds. CA 42, 43 and 44, all written by Innocent,
concern the burning of a monastery in Bethlehem for which Pelagians were held responsible.
These letters may have been included because the event in Bethlehem secured Innocent’s
support for the anti-Pelagian movement.98 CA 47, from Deacon Paul of Milan to Zosimus,
explains why Caelestius should not have been cleared: he had not disavowed propositions for
which he had been condemned at a synod in 411. I suggest that the two remaining letters were
included as they echo the argument of the section. In CA 48 Augustine rejoiced at the priest
Sixtus’s repudiation of very pernicious Pelagian dogma.99 This would be unremarkable but for
the fact that the priest was the future Pope Sixtus III, who had been a patron of Pelagius when

94
The synods of Mileu and Carthage. These condemnations were additional to the one by a synod of
Carthage in 411. Chadwick, The Church in Ancient Society, p. 453.
95
CA 45.8
96
CA 46.4.
97
CA 50.4: ‘nihil egimus, quod non ar vestram notitiam nostris ultro letteris referremus, dantes hoc
fraternitati et in commune consulentes, non quid quia deberet fieri nesciremus … sed pariter vobiscum
voluimus habere tractum de illo,qui apud vos … fuerat accusatus’.
98
G. D. Dunn notes the significance of the attack on the monastery to Innocent’s thinking in ‘Innocent I
and the Attacks on the Bethlehem Monasteries’, Journal of the Australian Early Medieval Association, 2
(2006). pp. 69-83.
99
CA 48.4: ‘exultanti alacritate descripsimus et quibus poteramus magno studio legebamus, ubi nobis
exposuisti, quid de illo perniciosossimo vel quid contra de gratia dei, quam pusillis magnisque largitur,
cui est illud inimicissimum, sentias’.

87
the latter was resident in Rome.100 In the other letter, a certain Eusebius chides Cyril of
Alexandria for harbouring and remaining in communion with Pelagians, when Innocent and
everyone else had condemned them.101 A decade or so later during the Nestorian controversy,
Cyril would roundly condemn Pelagianism.102 With these two examples, one a pope, the other
an outstanding theologian whose writings were still influencing the Council of Constantinople
in 553, I suggest the compiler of the Collectio was reinforcing the point that prelates could
change their minds on issue of doctrine.

The contemporary relevance of the argument is, I suggest, apparent in a letter that Gregory the
Great, as deacon to Pelagius II, sent to the archbishop and bishops of Istria during the schism
that followed Vigilius’s condemnation of the Three Chapters.103 Gregory sought to address
their concern that they were expected to move to a position which, at the beginning of the
controversy, the apostolic see and all the leading prelates in Latin provinces had strongly
resisted. Gregory presented what Robert Markus has described as the first occasion of ‘a
careful defence of the change of mind on the part of the papacy’.104 Gregory argued that God
had allowed Paul to turn from being a long-time opponent of the Christian faith to becoming its
preacher.105 Further, under correction from Paul, Peter changed his position on not admitting
Gentiles to communion without circumcision: Paul publicly pointed out to Peter that even
though he was a Jew, he lived as a gentile and consequently could not expect gentiles to
become Jews.106 In relation to the Three Chapters Gregory argued that a change of position
required a change of understanding: ‘Very dear brethren, do you think that to Peter, who was
reversing his position, one should have replied: We refuse to hear what you say since you
previously taught the opposite? If in the matter of the Three Chapters one position was held
while the truth was being sought, and a different position was adopted after truth had been
found, why should a change of position be imputed a crime to this See which is humbly
venerated by all in the person of its founder’.107 Gregory wrote in c.585 but his argument may

100
P. Brown, ‘Pelagius and his Supporters: Aims and Environment’ in P. Brown, Religion and Society in
the Age of Augustine (London, 1972), pp. 185 and 202, and P. Brown ‘The Patrons of Pelagius: The
Roman Aristocracy between East and West’ in Brown, Religion and Society, pp. 222-23.
101
CA. 49.2: ‘quomodo nunc, cum beatae memoriae Innocentius haeresim Pelagianam Caelestianamque
cum suis (sic) capitibus condemnaverit, cunctis eos abicientibus Orientalibus, Alexandrina sola ecclesia
in communionem receipt?’
102
L. Wickham, ‘Pelagianism in the East’ in R. Williams (ed.), The Making of Orthodoxy: Essays in
Honour of Henry Chadwick (Cambridge, 1989), pp. 203-4.
103
See page 86, n.91 above.
104
Markus, Gregory the Great and his World, p. 128.
105
Pelagii Ep. 5.7, PL 72, col. 0722: ‘quod diu Saulum omnipotens Deus repugnatorem suae fidei esse
permisit, et sic eum suae fidei praedicatorem fecit’.
106
Pelagii Ep. 5.8, PL 72, col. 0723: ‘dixi Petro coram omnibus: Si tu, cum Judaeus sis, non judaice
vivis, quomodo gentes cogis judaizare?’
107
Pelagii Ep. 5.8, PL. Vol. 72, col.0723: ‘Nunquid, fratres lectissimi, Petro apostolorum principi sibi
dissimilia docent debuit ad haec verba responderi? Haec quae dicis audire non possumus quid aliud ante
praedicasti? Si igitur in trium capitulorum negotio aliud cum veritas quaereretur, aliud autem inventa
veritate, dictum est, cur mutation sententiae sententiae huic sedi in crimine objicitur, quae a cuncta

88
reflect a defence that was developed by the Roman Church soon after Vigilius’s capitulation in
554. The argument could have equally applied to Vigilius’ change of position between 548 and
553.

Marcos has recently argued, on what is an a priori basis, that the Collectio is a late antique
canon law collection and the purpose of the ‘Pelagian dossier’ was to affirm the authority of the
bishop of Rome and his capacity to resolve the ecclesiastical affairs of the churches of the
West.108 Certainly, Zosimus’s letter to Aurelius and the Council of Carthage is replete with
assertions of papal authority, but this was the communication in which he acknowledged
surrender to the weight of opinion in the African Church.109 However, if as I argue that the
Collectio should be read as a letter collection, then the section had a very different purpose.

Given Vigilius’s capitulation to Justinian soon after the First Constitutum, the strong opposition
to the condemnation of the Chapters in the West, and the criticism of the pope in the second
part of life of Silverius in the Liber Pontificalis implicating him in the death of his predecessor,
the argument that an objective of the Collectio was to defend his reputation and record may
appear a difficult sell.110 However, like Liberius in the fourth century, a positive assessment
may have prevailed in 554 and for some time afterwards. Claire Sotinel argues that news about
the Council was virtually non-existent in Italy, and for months churches in the West assumed
that consent to the condemnation had been given by Pelagius.111 Vigilius’s reputation may have
benefited from his successor’s unpopularity: the LiberPontificalis reports that ‘monasteries and
a large number of the devout withdrew from communion with Pelagius, saying that he had
implicated himself in the death of pope Vigilius’.112

Collectively, the parallel with Liberius, the implicit defence, and the argument that popes could
change their minds strongly suggest that a major objective of the compiler was to defend
Vigilius’s reputation. For this there is a near contemporary parallel in the Syriac Documenta ad
origines monophysitarum illustrandas, which was compiled in c.580 and comprises a number
of small dossiers that were collated to defend Paul the Black against the charges levelled at

Ecclesia humiliter in eius auctore veneratur’. Translation by Markus, Gregory the Great and his World,
p. 128.
108
Marcos, ‘Anti-Pelagian Dossiers’, p. 116.
109
CA 50. Inter alia, it contains one of the first references by a pope to the power of binding and loosing.
This letter is a rare example of cases where I would agree with George Demacopoulos’s thesis that the
rhetoric of papal authority increased in moments of weakness.
110
LP 60.6-9.
111
C. Sotinel, ‘The Three Chapters and the Transformation of Italy’ in C. Chazelle and C. Cubitt (eds.),
The Crisis of Oikoumeme: The Three Chapters and the Failed Quest for Unity in the Sixth-Century
Mediterranean, Studies in the Early Middle Ages (Turnhout, 2007), p. 93. Sotinel also says that
uncertainty over Vigilius’s attitude after the Council continued into the twentieth century and was only
resolved by the dissertation of Engelbert Zettl of 1929 — see p. 93, n. 32. However, given the reactions
in North Africa, Milan and Aquileia, it seems unlikely that there was not some awareness of Vigilius’s
Second Constitutum.
112
Liber Pontificalis, 62.1; also, Sotinel, ‘The Three Chapters’, p. 95.

89
him.113 Like the Collectio it was organised on a chronological basis and it contains both
doctrinal and other documents. Unlike the Collectio, the defence seems to have been entirely
personal. In the Collectio it is not entirely clear whether the compiler wished to defend Vigilius
or the position of a party within the Church that was hostile to the condemnation of the Three
Chapters and which sought to maintain the integrity of the decisions of Chalcedon, and which
possibly also adhered to Gelasius I’s view that the pope and the Church did not have the power
to condemn or absolve the deceased.

Part 3: Primacy and Papal Authority

I argue that the editor of the Collectio Avellana was also concerned to document the
development of and to assert two new expressions of papal primacy and authority, one
doctrinal, the other jurisdictional. First, he asserted doctrinal primacy by selecting letters that
focused on Pope Leo I (440-61)’s achievement at the Council of Chalcedon (451). This was
reinforced by two other sets of letters that show popes leading on doctrinal issues: Pope Felix
III (483-92) appearing to orchestrate an attack on Peter the Fuller of Antioch’s extreme version
of theopaschism, and Pope Gelasius I (492-96) displaying a competence in theology that was
relatively rare among popes, but which may have been considered a requirement in the head of
a Church which claimed to be the arbiter of orthodoxy. Second, the compiler tracked the
emergence and evolution of a new interpretation of Matthew 16:18-19, the ‘power to bind and
loose’ (potestas ligandi solvendique), which had been granted by Christ to Peter and his
successors. It evolved in the Acacian schism into the right of the pope to determine
membership of the Christian community. Contrary to George Demacopoulos’s thesis that
assertions of papal authority were largely rhetorical and the Roman Church expressed them
most strongly at the times of its greatest weakness, this expression had traction, even if popes
had ultimately to submit to the realities of imperial power.114

Pope Leo’s Tome and the Council of Chalcedon

I argue that the compiler shows how the Roman Church attempted to assert its doctrinal
primacy by pointing to and building on the success of Pope Leo I at Chalcedon. The Council of
Chalcedon had accepted Leo’s Tome and declared ‘This knowledge, descending to us like a
golden chain by order of the Enactor, you have yourself preserved, being for all the interpreter

113
The Documenta ad origines monophysitarum illustrandas was, in all probability, compiled by a
miaphysite member of Paul’s party. It includes a Defence which deals with the procedure and reasons for
Paul’s deposition, as well as doctrinal aspects. See A. Van Roey and P. Allen (eds.), Monophysite Texts
of the Sixth Century, Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta no. 56 (Leuven, 1994), pp. 267-303, especially pp.
272-74, 291-98, 300-03.
114
Demacopoulos, The Invention of Peter, p.2.

90
of the of the voice of the blessed Peter, and bringing down on all the blessing of his faith’.115
Leo’s success was important evidence of the acceptance of the Church’s leadership on doctrinal
issues; further in the same letter: ‘Of these you were the leader, as head of the members,
exhibiting your prudence in those who represented you’.116 This significant success happened at
the time when the Roman Church was beginning to assert its claim to primacy on doctrine.117 A
reason why Popes objected to Zeno’s Henotikon, which triggered the Acacian schism, was its
deliberate omission of any substantive reference to Chalcedon.118 The way in which popes
repeatedly referred to Leo, his Tome and Chalcedon, and sought adherence to them, suggests a
concerted effort to consolidate Leo’s success. I argue that calling on this achievement was an
expression and an assertion of primacy.

A striking feature of the Collectio is the number of references to Leo and his Tome (epistulae),
usually linked with Chalcedon.119 A number of the major documents refer to them. The
Indiculus, a briefing for the embassy charged with going to Constantinople in 516 to settle the
Acacian schism, mentions the combination of Chalcedon and Leo’s Tome no fewer than seven
times.120 Between April 517 and March 521 there were eight occasions on which Hormisdas, or
his delegates in their reports, mentioned Leo’s Tome in combination with Chalcedon.121 Those
returning to communion with Rome had to sign the libellus requiring them, inter alia, to state
that they followed and embraced the Council of Chalcedon, and that they accepted and
approved Leo’s Tome, although the statements do not appear together.122 Three significant
libelli appear in the Collectio, each of which mentions the combination: that of the very
reluctant Archbishop John of Constantinople in 519 and those of Justinian and Archbishop

115
Quoted and translated by R. Price and M. Gaddis (eds.), The Acts of the Council of Chalcedon,
Translated Texts for Historians, no. 45, 3 vols. (Liverpool, 2005), vol. 3, p. 121.
116
Price and Gaddis, Acts of the Council of Chalcedon, vol. 3, p. 121.
117
Blaudeau, ‘Rome contre Alexandrie?’, pp. 140-45.
118
Meyendorff, Imperial Unity and Christian Divisions, pp. 198-201.
119
Throughout the Collectio Leo’s Tome is referred to as epistulae or epistolae.
120
CA 116.
121
For Hormisdas’s letters to easterners: CA 132.2: ‘sanctam Chalcedonensem synodum et beati Leonis
de fide catholica conscriptas epistolas’; CA 140.12: ‘Chalcedonensem synodum in qua omnium
reverential continetur, sed et venerandi Leonis … constituta’; CA 149.11: ‘quae a sancta synodo
Chalcedonensi constituta sunt et quae beati Leonis epistula continet’; CA 150: ‘Chalcedone habitum pro
religione conventum. ian te quoque, quod idem amplecti testatus es, beati Leonis redeuntem dogma
comitabitur’; CA 236.19: ‘sed cum in minibus omnium sint et synodica constituta et beati papae
dogmata’; CA 238.14: ‘ubi sancta Calcedonensis synodus et inter sanctos venerandi papae Leonis
religiosissima constituta locum alicuius honoris habuerunt’. From Hormisdas’ delegates’ reports
commenting on their handling of the Acacian schism settlement: CA 216.8: ‘nihil aliud responsum dare
nisi “sufficit sanctum Calcedonense concilium, in quo et aliae synodi continentur; sufficient epistolae
papae Leonis, quas synodus confirmavit …”’; CA 217.9: ‘extra quattuor synodos, extra epistolas papae
Leonis … quic non continetur in praedictis synodis aut quod non est scriptum a papa Leone, non
suscipimus’
122
CA. 116b.2 and 3: ‘una cum isto anathematizantes Eutychen et Dioscorum Alexandrinum in sancta
synodo, quam sequimur et amplectimur, Calcedonensi damnatos’ and ‘quapropter suscipimus et
probamus epistolas beati Leonis papae universas, quas de Christiana religione conscripsit’.

91
Menas in 536. The latter two were side letters to an exchange by which Pope Agapetus
confirmed acceptance of theopaschite formula in 536.123

I argue that the references to Pope Leo and the Council of Chalcedon represent an assertion of
papal leadership on doctrine. These letters show how the Church actually argued its position in
the period 519-36, but I suggest there were two elements in play. The Roman Church feared
that Zeno’s Henotikon and Justinian’s attempt to impose the theopaschite formula (and later to
condemn the Three Chapters) would re-open all that had been decided at Chalcedon. The
deacon Dioscorus, a significant member of the embassy that Hormisdas sent to Constantinople
to settle the Acacian schism, and one of two papal candidates elected in 530, warned the pope:
‘if after the Council of Chalcedon, if after Pope Leo’s Tome, if after the libelli which bishops
have given and are giving, and through which they give satisfaction to the apostolic see,
anything new is added again, it seems to me that anything achieved (factum) will be
destroyed’.124 The second element was the emphasis on Leo’s leadership. As the references
show, these two elements had become inextricably linked. In addition to showing how the
Church managed the position in regard to Chalcedon from after the Council in 451 until 553,
the compiler shows, I suggest intentionally, a component of papal authority in action in the fifth
and sixth century: actual leadership on doctrine. His consciousness of this is suggested by his
additional selection of letters that show two other popes demonstrating the same form of
leadership: Pope Felix III purportedly leading on a doctrinal issue that affected the eastern
churches and Gelasius I demonstrating competence as a theologian.

Pope Felix III and the Interpolated Trisagion

On the face of it, Section 3(b) (CA 71-78) is a curious dossier in the collection but it serves to
introduce ‘theopaschism’ and to provide an example of a pope leading on a doctrinal subject in
the East.125 The issue arose from additional words inserted by Peter the Fuller, the miaphysite
bishop of Antioch, into the Trisagion, a hymn that was part of the liturgy of the eastern Church.
Conflict over the issue was mainly played out in Constantinople and Antioch. Eduard Schwartz
established that the letters were later forgeries.126 They were probably written in c.510, at the
height of tensions over the interpolation in Constantinople, by the Acoimetae monks who were

123
CA 159, 89 and 90.
124
CA Ep. 216.10: ‘inter alia, si post synodum Calcedonensem, si post epistolas papae Leonis, si post
libellos, quos dederunt et dant episcopi et per Ipsos satisfecerunt sedi apostolicae, iterum aliquid novum
additur, sic mihi videtur, quia quicquid factum est destruitur’.
125
The dossier in the Collectio is one of three recensions of the collection; its letters are re-translations
from Greek copies. For details of the different recensions, see Grillmeier, The Church of Constantinople
in the Sixth Century, p. 253, n.109. Günther, Prolegomena, pp. lxiiii-lxvi, states that source for the
compiler seems to have been the Greek volume of letters which is contained in a manuscript which
conserves non-genuine letters which Frederick Maassen called Sammlung in Sachen des Monophysites.
126
E. Schwartz, Publizistische Sammlungen zum Acacianischen Schisma (Munich, 1934), p. 292, quoted
by Grillmeier, The Church of Constantinople in the Sixth Century, p. 253.

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supporters of the Church of Rome and Chalcedon.127 All the letters are addressed to Peter. At
some point in the 470s, he added to the core chant of the Trisagion (‘Holy God, Holy Mighty,
Holy Immortal, have mercy on us’) the words ‘who was crucified for us’.128 If the hymn had
not been part of the theopaschite discourse up to that date, it immediately entered it. Reaction
differed in the East, depending on whether the hymn was understood to apply to Christ or to the
Trinity. The revised version took root among the miaphysites of Antioch, who thought it
applied to Christ alone and for whom it became a symbol of resistance. Chalcedonians in the
East, including the Church of Constantinople, interpreted it as applying to the Trinity, and
strongly objected to the implication that God in his divinity had died. 129 Ostensibly, this was an
internal eastern issue that had little to do with Roman Church but the forged letters show a pope
demonstrating leadership on a doctrinal issue in the East.

Purportedly, Pope Felix III sent the first letter (CA 71) and the remaining authors, four eastern
and three Italian bishops, followed his lead.130 The pope accused Peter the Fuller ‘of
introducing novelty to the catholic Church in saying that Christ did not suffer for us, but you
attribute suffering to a God who does not suffer and death to the immortal Spirit’.131 He also
accused him of following the heretics Samostenus and Nestorius in dividing one son into a
duality of sons.132 Each of the remaining seven letters follows Felix’s line of argument although
they differ to some degree in content and tone. Two of the Italian bishops explicitly referred to
pope in terms that recognised his authority on the issue. Bishop Quintianus of Asculani
mentioned many bishops denouncing Peter, ‘especially the very holy pope Felix’; he ends the
letter with the warning that Pope Felix will condemn him.133 Bishop Justin of the province of
Sicily advised Peter to follow the advice of the pope.134 One of the eastern bishops, Pamphilus
of Abydos in Asia Minor, referenced Felix differently. He reported the Roman bishop asking
Acacius, the archbishop of Constantinople: ‘Why do you lay waste the Church? Why do you
scatter the sheep of Christ?’135 Collectively, the letters show Pope Felix leading on a doctrinal
issue, with bishops from both West and East prepared to follow. Even if these letters were

127
Grillmeier, The Church of Constantinople in the Sixth Century, p. 257.
128
V.L. Menze, Justinian and the Making of the Syrian Orthodox Church, Oxford Early Christian
Studies (Oxford, 2008), p. 167.
129
Menze, Justinian and the Making of the Syrian Orthodox Church, pp. 168-69.
130
The Italian bishops were purportedly from [Asculani]in the province of Sicily and [Arsenoa]. The
eastern bishops, were stated to be from sees in Greece, Thrace and two cities in Asia Minor.
131
CA. 71.2: ‘inferre putaveris ecclesiae catholicae novitatem, ut non propter nos Christum crucifixum
dicas, sed passionem impassibili deo iniquissime intulisti et et immortali spiritui mortem adponere
praesumpsisti’.
132
CA 71.5: ‘dixisti sicut Samosatenus et Nestorius unum filium dividentes in divinitatem filiorum.’
133
CA 72.1 and 16: ‘multis tibi episcopis denuntiantibus … maxime papa Felice’ and ‘alioquin veniet
super te Felicis papae nostri damnatio’.
134
CA 73.2: ‘pare, karissime, Felicis adhortationibus’.
135
CA 76.7: ‘Acacio … (illum autem pontifex Romanus, omnes (sic) vero omnium episcopus Christus)
… cur vastas ecclesiam? cur Christi dispergis ovilia?’

93
forged, their rhetorical impact in the context of the Collectio is not lessened. The compiler’s
underlying assertion is supported by a further example of papal leadership on doctrine.

Pope Gelasius I on Pelagianism

It is difficult to explain the inclusion of four documents on Pelagianism in Section 3(c) other
than by suggesting that the compiler wished to show a pope, Gelasius I, demonstrating
leadership and competence in theology, and that in attacking the heresy he was fulfilling his
primatial responsibilities. The documents comprise a letter to bishops in Picenum entitled
‘Against the Pelagian heresy’ (CA 94), a tract on Pelagianism (CA 97) and two letters to
Honorius, a bishop in Dalmatia (CA 96 and 98). Arguably, there was an intended read-across to
letters in Section 2 which touch on the condemnation of Pelagius in 417-18. However, as I
argue above, the purpose of Section 2 was to provide examples of prelates changing their
minds. CA 94 and 97 show Gelasius’s theological expertise. In the letter, Gelasius primarily
addressed three Pelagian positions: the denial of original sin, the unlikely damnation of an
unbaptised child, and the conferment of grace according to man’s merits.136 The tract occupies
some thirty-six pages in the CSEL volume.137 In both these documents Gelasius argued the
underlying case by reference to scriptural, not papal, authority.

I suggest that CA 96 and 98 were included to make clear that, in leading the attack on the
heresy, Gelasius was fulfilling his primatial responsibilities. In CA 96 Gelasius briefly referred
to his ‘care for all the churches’; he tells Honorius: ‘We are amazed that your Love was amazed
that the care of the apostolic see, which by the custom of the fathers is owed to all churches
throughout the world, and which has been anxious also for the faith of your region … because
certain men are striving to impair the catholic unity through Dalmatia and to inflict anew the
poison of the Pelagian disease which has previously been damned by divine and human
laws’.138 In the later letter, Gelasius referred to the recurrence of Pelagianism in Dalmatia and
stated that he was hardly able to breathe, given the weight of his primatial responsibilities: ‘for
the governance of the apostolic see, we manage without cease the care of the entire sheepfold
of the Lord, which had been delegated to Peter by our Saviour who said: “strengthen your
brothers” … and “Peter, do you love me? Feed my sheep”. We cannot and ought not disregard
what form touches on our care’.139 It is likely that these two letters were intended make a

136
CA 94.
137
CA 97.
138
CA 96.1: ‘Miramur dilectionem tuam fuisse miratam curam sedis apostolicae, quae more maiorum
cunctis per mundum debetur ecclesiis, pro vestrae quoque regionis fide fuisse sollicitam, cumque ad eam
perlatum esset, quod quidem per Dalmatias integritam catholicam vitiare niterentur et divinis
humanisque legibus ante damnatum Pelagianae pestilentiae denuo virus inferre’.
139
CA 98.1: ‘pro sedis tamen apostolicae moderamine totius ovilis dominici curam sine cessassione
tractantes, quae beato Petro salvatoris ipsius nostri voce delegata est: et tu conversus confirma tfratres
tuos, et item: Petre, amas me? Pasce oves meas! Dissimulare nec possumus nec debemus, quae nostrum
sollicitudinem forma perstringat’.

94
connection in the reader’s mind between Gelasius’s leadership and competence in theology
(reflected in CA 94 and 97) and primacy.

I consider that the four documents in the subsection on Pelagianism should be linked with those
letters which emphasise Leo’s leadership and success at Chalcedon and Felix III’s supposed
leadership against Peter the Fuller’s interpolation in the Trisagion. Apart from demonstrating
their leadership, I suggest that the compiler considered it important to emphasise the
theological credentials of at least a few Roman bishops to support their claims to be the final
arbiters of orthodox doctrine. Notwithstanding Pope Leo I’s Tome, the Roman Church did not
have a strong theological tradition, a position that potentially undermined its claim.140 Gelasius
was unusual in that he wrote tracts, of which CA 97 was one. The Liber Pontificalis reported
that he produced five books against Nestorius and Eutyches, two books against Arius, as well
as tracts and hymns, and prefaces and prayers.141 Collectively, the references to Leo and
Chalcedon, the letters of Felix III and the other bishops, and the four documents on
Pelagianism are a form of assertion of doctrinal primacy. The latter documents also appear in a
subsection in which other letters of Gelasius reveal a new claim to jurisdictional primacy, the
right of the bishop of Rome to determine membership of the Christian community.

Jurisdictional Primacy: Control of the ‘Communio’

I argue that the Collectio also evidenced the development and assertion of a new expression of
jurisdictional primacy, the right of the bishop of Rome to determine membership of the wider
Christian community, a power which was a direct outcome of the events of 476 and 482. The
right was founded on ‘power to bind and loose’ in Matthew 16:19, rather than on Christ’s
statement to Peter in the earlier verse (Matthew 16:18) that he was the rock on which he would
establish the Church. As I show, awareness of this right emerged in the Acacian schism when
popes had to explain the excommunication of Acacius and the other eastern patriarchs. A
comparison of the records of the synods of Rome of 485 and 498 shows how this thinking
developed. Consideration of the power promoted a new, or a revived, discourse on communio,
the conceptual framework within which it would operate. This power was to be tested on two
occasions: Pope Hormidas’s attempt to settle the Acacian schism on terms which required the
exclusion of names of eastern prelates from diptychs, and Justinian’s requests, in the
negotiations over the theopaschite formula, that popes condemn the Acoimetae monks, who
had opposed the edict that the emperor had issued in 533 proclaiming the formula. The

140
Leo I was the only pope to be mentioned by Pope Martin I at the Lateran Synod of 649 in a list of
twelve ‘fathers and teachers of the church’ whom he ‘followed’. See R. Price, P. Booth and C. Cubitt
(eds.), Acts of the Lateran Synod of 649, Translated Texts for Historians, no. 61 (Liverpool, 2014), p.
305.
141
LP 51.6.

95
compiler shows the strength and weakness of this power in the negotiation over the
theopaschite formula.

The reports of the Roman synods of 485 and 495 show a change in the invocation of Matthew
16. As I discuss above, the reports appear at the end of what I identify as Section 3(a) and
Section 3(c). At the earlier synod, Bishops Misenus and Vitalis, papal delegates who had been
suborned by Acacius in Constantinople, were excommunicated, and the excommunications of
Acacius and the patriarchs of Alexandria and Antioch were confirmed. At the later synod,
Misenus was rehabilitated but the others were not. The report of the synod of 485 was
addressed to ‘all priests and orthodox archimandrites in Constantinople and Bithynia’; we do
not know to whom the report of the later synod was addressed but, as I explain below, it was
probably also addressed to eastern clergy, not least because of the message it contained. The
account of the earlier synod asserted three conventional bases of papal authority in a few
closely packed lines: ‘this custom is retained: the successor of the chief priests of the apostolic
see, from within the assembly of all priests in the entirety of Italy, decides everything according
to his appropriate care of all churches. He is the head of all, [due to] our Lord’s statement to
Peter: “you are Peter and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell will not
prevail against it”’.142 The report of the later synod does not repeat any of these expressions but
instead, refers to ‘the power to bind and loose’ in Matthew 16:19.143 The section’s organisation
suggests that the reader was expected to notice this change.

Gelasius’ thinking on Matthew 16:18-19 changed between 485 and 495. He clearly spent some
time considering the application of the mandate to the excommunications of Acacius and the
others, as he wrote the tract Tomus de anathematis vinculo and discussed it a later letter (CA
101) and the change is reflected in the report of the synod of 495 (CA 103).144 Critically,
although it reflects later thinking than is in the tract, he came to the conclusion that the power
to bind and loose could not be exercised on the deceased; God had retained that power for
himself: ‘he therefore reserved those who are certainly not now upon the earth, not for human
judgement, but for his own’.145

I suggest that this thinking was driven by a need to explain to explain the excommunication of
Acacius, as the archbishop of Constantinople was held in high regard in the East and the pope
had not called a council to judge him. Particularly significant are Gelasius’s Epistula 1, CA

142
CA. 70.9: ‘haec consuetudo retinetur, ut successor praesulum sedis apostolicae ex persona cunctorum
totius Italiae sacerdotum iuxta sollicitudinem sibi ecclesiarum omnium conpetentem cuncta constituat,
qui caput est omnium domino ad beatum Petrum apostolum dicente: tu es Petrus et super hanc petram
aedificabo ecclesiam meam et portae inferi non praevalebunt adversus eam’.
143
CA 103.27: ‘quaecumque ligaveris super terram, ligata erunt et in caelis et quaecumque solveris super
terram, erunt solute et in caelis’.
144
Tractatus IV seu Tomus de anathematis vinculo, Epistolae Romanorum Pontificum, pp. 557-70.
145
CA 103.28: ‘quos ergo non esse iam constat super terram, non humano sed suo iudicio reservavit’;
translation by Neil and Allen, The Letters of Gelasius I, p. 137.

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101(August 494) and CA 95 (February or May 496), all of which were addressed to bishops in
Dardania or Illyricum. Epistula 1 was probably written in 488/9 when Gelasius was still Pope
Felix III’s deacon; it was not copied into the Collectio, but it covers much of the same ground
and sheds additional light on the issue.146 In this early letter Gelasius worked through the
consequences of absolving Acacius, Misenus and Vitalis, all of whom were alive at the time. In
that letter he held out the prospect of removing the binding sentence on Acacius, if his ‘evil-
doing and transgression’ disappeared.147 The position was very different after Acacius and
Vitalis had died. In CA 101 Gelasius explained to the bishops of Dardania and Illyricum why
Acacius could not be absolved: ‘he died still with that same conviction and, now that he is
dead, he cannot obtain that absolution which, when alive, he neither sought nor merited.
Indeed, Christ delegated to his apostles saying “what you bind on earth will be bound in
heaven”. For the rest, it is not lawful for us to decide anything about him’.148

We cannot not know for certain who the intended recipients of the report of the synod of 495
were but it is very likely that they were members of the eastern clergy. The design of the
section, with sub-sections (a) and (c) ending with synodal reports, with common subject matter
in the reports, and with the earlier report known to have been addressed to all priests and
archimandrites in Constantinople and Bithynia, lends support to this suggestion. The different
treatment of Misenus and Acacius, as discussed at the synod, further suggests that the purpose
of the report was to advise eastern clerics that they should reconcile with the Roman Church
while they still could, that is while they were still alive. Far from being an act of weakness and
a departure from Gelasius’s usual hard line towards the East, as George Demacopoulos argues,
the pope’s absolution of Misenus, coupled with his argument that he could not absolve Acacius
post-mortem, was a strong power-play at an important moment in the schism.149

The letters identified above and the reports of the synods show that schism and the
excommunications spawned a discourse on ‘communio’. All but one of the letters/reports
discuss the excommunication of Acacius; two refer to the power to bind and loose.150 In Table

146
Gelasius, Ep. 1, Epistolae Romanorum Pontificum, pp. 287-311. Neil and Allen, The Letters of
Gelasius I, p. 81, note that the internal evidence suggests that this letter can be dated no later than 488 or
489.
147
Gelasius, Ep. 1.30, Epistolae Romanorum Pontificum, p. 303: ‘quae praevaricatio, quod maleficium si
recedat, iam non erit illa persona, in quam sententiam insolubilem proferre sum visus’.
148
CA 101.8: ‘in hac eadem persistens damnatione defunctus est, absolutionem, quam superstes nec
quaesivit omnino nec meruit, mortuus iam non potest impetrare; siquidem ipsis apostolis Christi voce
delegatum est quae ligaveritis super terram et quae solveritis super terram. Ceterum iam de eo, qui in
divino est iudicio constitutes, nobis fas aliud non est decernere’.
149
Demacopoulos, The Invention of Peter, pp. 80-83, considers that the absolution of Misenus
exemplifies his thesis that the rhetoric of papal authority was loudest at moments of weakness in that that
the acclamations and new exalted titles for Gelasius at the end of the account of the synod were inserted
for the ‘explicit purpose of masking what would otherwise have been understood to have been a
humiliation for the pontiff’ (quote p. 83).
150
The one exception is CA 79; the two which mention the power to bind and loose are CA 101 and 103.

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3.3, I place the documents in chronological order and show the frequency with which the term
communio and associated words (communicare, communicator) and expressions (communio
catholica and fides et communio catholica et apostolica) appear. Leaving aside Epistula 1, each
of the letters/reports in the Collectio contains a number of references to the terms and
expressions. Communio apostolica et catholica, communio catholica and communio apostolica
were used to refer to communion with the apostolic see, while communio externa,
communicator and communio haerticorum designate associations of heretics. Communio on its
own can refer to either category.

Table 3.3 References to ‘Communio’ and related expressions.

CA 70 Ep. 1. CA 79 CA 101 CA 103 CA 95

Report of Letter to Letter to the Letter to the Report of Letter to the

the Synod the bishops of Bishops of the Synod Dardanians
of Rome bishops of Dardania Dardania of Rome
the East and
Illyricum
October 488 or 493 August 494 May 495 February or
485 489 May 496
communio 1 32 3 4 3 26
communicare 1 36 1 1 15
communicator 1 3 5
communio 10 1 3 6
catholica
communio 2 5 2
catholica et
apostolica
fides et 2
communio
fides [et] 6 5
communio
catholica
fides, [et] 1 10
communio
apostolica et
catholica
communio 7
externa
communio 1
haereticorum
TOTAL 2 86 5 11 13 76
Number of 131 773 87 106 310 644
lines for each
letter
Average 65.5 9.3 17.4 9.6 23.84 9.2
number of
lines per
reference

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A comparison of the Ep. 1 and CA 95 shows some development in the discourse over the short
period: in the later letter the connection of fides with communio catholica is extended to
include apostolica, and there is a more pronounced definition of the heretical communion
(particularly communio externa). The significant expression ‘fides, [et] communio apostolica et
catholica’ embodies, I consider, Gelasius’ attempt to assert that the communio with the catholic
and apostolic Roman see was defined by faith.151

I suggest that what we see up to c.496 are the components of a new power to determine
membership of the Christian community: Pope Gelasius at the centre of the Christian
communion refusing to absolve Acacius; the change in way that Matthew 16:18-19 was
invoked, with a new focus on the ‘power to bind and loose’; and the development in the
discourse on communio. This is most apparent in the report of the synod of 495: the report
showed a pope determining who could be a member of the community, the first articulation of
a new power. However, the Roman Church had little or no means of independently enforcing
this power; its effectiveness depended on the desire of churches and rulers to be in communion
with Rome. That condition was to be satisfied when the Emperor Justin I (518-27) decided to
settle the Acacian schism and re-establish communion. We see the power to determine
membership of the Christian community put into effect when Pope Hormisdas (514-23), at the
close of the schism, insisted on having names removed from diptychs. This was a short-lived
triumph for the Roman Church, but the exchanges over the theopaschite formula in 534 and
536 show that the principle of papal control over membership of the Christian community had
been established.

Pope Hormisdas’s insistence at the settlement of the Acacian schism that names of certain
bishops in the East be removed from the diptychs was a strong assertion of this new power: he
required those returning to communion to sign the libellus in which they promised ‘that the
names of those separated from the communion with the catholic church, i.e. those who did not
agree with the apostolic see, were not to be recited during the sacred mysteries’.152 Diptychs
held lists of names which were read out and commemorated during the Mass. The names of the
dead defined a church’s Christian tradition back to its apostolic past, the names of the living
declared its communion with other churches. Volker Menze opines that they ‘contained in a
microcosm the claim of every local church to be part of a long Christian tradition and to be part
of the universal Church’.153 Those required to sign had the greatest difficulty with the
requirement to remove the names of the deceased. After a short while the emperor Justin and

151
This is, for instance expressed as: ‘pro fide autem et veritate et communione catholica atque
apostolica’ — CA 95.33.
152
CA. 116b.4: ‘promittentes etiam sequestratos a communione ecclesiae catholicae, id est non
consentientes sedi apostolicae, eorum nomina inter sacra non recitanda esse mysteria’.
153
Menze, Justinian and the Making of the Syrian Orthodox Church, pp.76- 89 but particularly pp. 85-
86.

99
his nephew pushed back. In July 520 Justinian wrote that the pope should be content with the
removal of the names of Acacius, Peter Mongos, Timothy Aelurus, Dioscorus of Alexandria
and Peter the Fuller, but should otherwise abandon the ‘inveterate struggle about the names of
others’.154 In September 520 Justin repeated the suggestion, pointing out the level of resistance
in the dioceses of Pontus, Asia and Oriens, and noting the impact of the measure: ‘the people
destroy and reject the names of priests whose reputation flourished among them [when alive];
they judge life harder than death if they have condemned dead men, in whose lives they gloried
while they were living’.155 The application of the condition to the other names faded from sight
after this, and was not repeated in the libelli of 536. Nevertheless, Hormisdas’s requirement
was a strong expression of the power to determine membership of the Christian community in
this period, which we see again in the exchanges over the theopaschite formula.156

As I have discussed above, in 534 and 536 Justinian asked Popes John II and Agapetus to
condemn the Acoimetae monks, but in doing so, he implicitly recognised that the pope had the
right to determine membership of the Christian community.157 He requested John II declare that
he ‘accepts all who rightly confess [Justinian’s profession of faith] and condemns the perfidy of
those [i.e. the monks], who in Jewish fashion have dared to deny the true faith’.158 John replied
‘If anyone opposes this confession, this [expression of] faith, he has sentenced himself to [be]
separated from holy communion (alienum a sancta communione), and from the catholic
church’. Justinian made the same request to Agapetus: ‘Because of this we ask Your Holiness
to confirm the letter mentioned and excommunicate (a communione habeatis alienos) Cyrus
and his like’.159 The pope replied in similar terms to John after accepting Justinian’s profession:
‘if anyone of our Catholic faith is tempted to act otherwise, he becomes alien from the holy
communion (sancta communione)’.160 Although the popes acceded to the emperor’s requests,
which almost certainly were signs of weakness, I suggest that on each occasion Justinian was
implicitly acknowledging that the pope was the person with the right to determine membership
of the communion. I consider that both examples, the diptychs and the monks, show that the
principle was established, even if the political realities meant that the power was exercised
supinely.

154
CA 196.3-4: ‘… finire dignetur inveteratum certamen de ceterorum niminibus’.
155
CA 232.3: ‘ut tollant antistitum et repellent nomina, quorum apud eos floruit, sed morte vitam
aestimant, si mortuos condemnaverint, quorum gloriabantur vita superstitum’.
156
The inconsistency between Hormisdas’ position in 519, which required condemning the dead, and
Vigilius’s refusal to condemn Theodore of Mopsuestia, because he was dead, was not to be lost on
Justinian.
157
See above, pp. 83-84.
158
CA 84.19: ‘manifestum nobis facaitis, quod … vestra sanctitas et eorum, qui Iudaice ausi sunt rectam
denegare fidem, condemnat perfidiam’, and 84.25: ‘huic confessioni, huic fidei quisquis contradictor
extiterit, alienum se ipse ab ecclesia iudicavit esse catholica’.
159
CA 91.23: ‘Quam ob rem petimus sanctitatem vestram, ut memoratam epistolam vestra auctoritate
firmetis et Cyrum vel similes eius a communione habeatis alienos’;
160
CA 91.4, quoted above, p. 84, n. 77.

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In summary, we see in the Collectio two formulations of papal authority and primacy which, I
consider, emerged in the special circumstances that prevailed after 476 and 482, but which
refreshed components that had been apparent in earlier centuries of the Church. The first was
an assertion of papal leadership on doctrine, founded on the real success of Pope Leo at
Chalcedon, supplemented by compiler’s presentation of the examples of Felix III and Gelasius
I leading on a doctrinal issue. I consider that this articulation was a direct response to the
imperial challenge that started with Zeno’s Henotikon, but it also strongly echoes the examples
of papal leadership on doctrinal leadership that I discuss in Chapters 1 and 2. In addition, a
new interpretation of the ‘power to bind and loose’ emerged in the Acacian schism, the right of
the bishop of Rome to determine membership of the Christian communio. This development
owed much to the need of successive popes to explain the excommunication of Acacius and the
other eastern patriarchs. However, I suggest that it also needs to be understood in terms of
conditions prevailing after 476 and that it reflected a re-awakening of the notion that the bishop
of Rome was the centre of the communio. As I discuss in Chapter 1, Ludwig Hertling has
observed in regard to the earlier centuries ‘the basic function of the pope was not the
performance of given official actions, but simply being present as the fundamental point of
orientation and unity’.161 Hertling describes a role with limited or no power. I suggest that the
loss of much of the support structure after 476 and the way that Acacian schism developed and
refreshed the importance of the notion of communio with the bishop of Rome at the centre; the
discourse generated resulted in a considerable focus on the Christian communion. The bishop
of Rome’s role, as described by Hertling, acquired some traction and force due to the grafting
on of the power to bind and loose.

Part 4: Roman Church – Empire Relations

I argue that the third objective of the compiler of the Collectio Avellana was to opine on
Church-Empire relations in a way that was part polemic, part disquisition. As I show, some of
the content is a strong polemic against emperors’ involvement in doctrinal issues, almost
certainly addressing the situation that pertained after the condemnation of the Three Chapters.
However, the compiler did not completely dismiss emperors’ involvement in the Church: as I
show below, he suggested roles for them in ensuring compliance with the Church’s decisions
and in adjudicating disputed papal elections. The entirety of these views is contained in one
intricately constructed section (Section 1, letters CA 1-40). Although he relies heavily on
historic examples to make his case, I suggest that in regard to imperial interventions on

161
Hertling, Communio, pp. 10 and 52-76.

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doctrinal matters and compliance he had contemporary situations very much in mind. He may
have included the documents on double elections for a sense of balance, in what appears at
times to be a disquisition on Church-Empire relations, or because he considered them to be an
ongoing problem. I consider that the mere fact of this content shows that the Roman Church
had acquired its own detached identity and it had become necessary to re-think and map out the
relationship with secular rulers

Imperial Interventions in Defining Doctrine and Compliance

The arguments against imperial interventions in doctrine are to be found in the first and fourth
subsections of Section 1. The first (CA 1-2) comprises the Praefatio and the second letter
known as the Libellus quorumdam schismaticorum, a petition from Luciferian priests addressed
to Valentinian, Theodosius, and Arcadius, emperors whom they considered orthodox. In certain
respects, the Libellus is a curious entry in the Collectio as its authors were Luciferians who, by
the 360s, were no longer considered orthodox.162 However, it complements the Praefatio and it
additionally contains a minor argument to which it was very likely that the compiler
subscribed. The fourth subsection (CA 38-40) encompasses three letters written by emperors
(Honorius to his younger brother Arcadius, and Magnus Maximus to the emperor Valentinian
II, and separately to Pope Siricius).

I argued in Part 2 above that the compiler intended the Praefatio to signal that the Collectio
was a defence of Vigilius; I consider that he also intended the letter to be an argument against
the involvement of emperors in defining doctrine. I suggest that this intention is also apparent
in the Libellus but this latter document is longer and its argument against too close an
association of Church and Empire is wider and more explicit. The structure of both letters is
similar: the first part introduces a position resulting from the emperor Constantius’s
involvement in a church council; the second part details its consequences. The Praefatio
narrates the condemnation of Athanasius of Alexandria, the main opponent of the emperor’s
religious policy, at the Council of Milan (355) and the consequent exiling of Pope Liberius, the
election of Pope Felix II in his place, and the consequent schism when their respective
supporters elected Ursinus and Damasus.163 In the Libellus the Luciferian priests recounted
their experiences under a number of emperors but they mostly commented on events under
Constantius, whom they considered an Arian and the ‘patron of heretics’.164 They complained
that, although they were orthodox, they were treated as heretics.165 They narrated the outcomes
of the joint councils of Ariminium and Seleucia Isauriae in 359, which Constantius engineered.

162
On the Luciferians’ departure from orthodoxy see Barnes, Athanasius and Constantius, pp. 116-17,
125 and 155-58.
163
CA 1.1-2 and 1.5.
164
CA 2.51.
165
CA 2.4: ‘dum ostendimus non nos esse haereticos et tamen quasi haereticos vehementer adfligi’.

102
In their assessment, bishops ‘reproved the pious faith of their fathers, which they had
[previously] championed and subscribed to the faith of the Arians which they had condemned
with an unfettered and free judgement’.166 Most of the second part of the petition is taken up
with details of a series of conflicts between bishops, notably between nine orthodox prelates
(seven bishops and two priests) and eight others.167

The Libellus was a sharper critique of imperial involvement and made two points which the
compiler may have considered applied the Second Council of Constantinople: the damaging
effect of imperial control of the episcopate and the danger of surrendering truth for ‘peace’. The
Luciferians identified imperial patronage as an issue: ‘since [the bishops] fear the anger of the
king, since they are not worthy to suffer exile for the son of God, and since they are delighted
by their own sees and by the pernicious possessions of the churches, they annulled what they
had piously claimed, and they accepted what they had condemned as impious’.168 They also
complained that ‘impiety is hidden under the language of peace and the splendid name of unity
is put to the defence of dishonest men’.169 Almost all the attendees at Council of Constantinople
that condemned the Three Chapters were eastern bishops.170 The beginning of the Second
Constitutum, the document in which Vigilius formally reversed his defence of the Chapters, is
lost but comments in later sections of the record reveal that he yielded for the peace of the
Church: ‘Having exhausted what needed to be expounded or defined in order to put to rest the
question of the first chapter … it is incumbent on us to explain what the logic of ecclesiastical
unity and the care of the faith handed down by the holy fathers require to be done about
Theodore of Mopsuestia and his statements’.171 Here ‘peace’ is expressed as ‘ecclesiastical
unity’. I suggest the pertinence of these points would not have been lost on contemporary
readers.

In addressing the emperors, the Luciferian priests recognised that the rulers were given power
by God, and that they had responsibility for the ‘pious faith’. The state ‘was handed over to
[their] power by the will of God’.172 They discharged their responsibilities by enacting laws

166
CA 2.18: ‘piam fidem patrum, quam vindicaverant, reprobant subscribentes in illa fide Arrianorum,
quam integro et libero iudicio damnaverant’. CA 2.14-25 for coverage of the councils.
167
CA 2. Included in these conflicts are: Osius of Cordoba against Gregory of Eliberitana (paras. 33-41);
the illustrious bishops Luciosus and Hyginus against a Spanish priest Vincent (73-77); Pope Damasus
against Macarius (78-82); Damasus against Ephesius (83-85); the illustrious bishop Theodorus against
Paul (93-95); bishop Turbo against the Luciferians (106-110).
168
CA 2. 16: ‘nunc minis perterret et interim sola dilatione discruciat, ut in ultimum, cum iram regis
metuunt, cum non dignantur pro Christo filio dei exilium perpeti. Com propriis sedibus et ecclesiarum
perniciosissimis possessionibus oblectantur, rescindant, quod pie vindicaverant, et suscipiant, quod
impium damnaverant’.
169
CA 2.57: ‘sub vocabulo pacis impietas tegitur et speciosum nomen unitatis opponitur ad patrocinium’.
170
Of 170 bishops (of whom 152 attended) 12 were from Illyricum and so nominally under papal
jurisdiction, 11 from Italy, 8 from Northern Africa. See Price, Acts of the Council of Constantinople, vol.
1, pp. 27-28.
171
Vigilius, Second Constitutum in Price, Acts of the Council of Constantinople, vol. 2, para. 151, p.264.
172
CA 2.2: ‘tradita vestro imperio dei nutu … res publica’.

103
against heretics and evil men, and not by ‘trying anything new, in particular new ways of
thinking, as certain earlier emperors have done in their destruction of others but in order that
you may show that your judgements and your pious faith are in conformity with the opinions of
divine scripture and pious confessions’.173

The fourth subsection is notable for statements by emperors on the Church-Empire relations
and it echoes the main themes of the first. Honorius’s letter to his nephew and co-emperor
Arcadius was written following a slaughter which immediately preceded the deposition of John
Chrysostom in 404. He declared: ‘the interpretation of divine matters falls to [priests],
compliance in religion falls to us.’174 Magnus Maximus, a usurper in the West (383-88) and
staunch pro-Nicene, authored the other two letters. The context of the first was Valentinian II’s
move towards Arianism under his mother’s influence.175 Echoing the message of the first
subsection that involvement led to discord, he reproached Valentinian as ‘force has been
inflicted on catholic churches with new edicts of your clemency, priests have been besieged in
churches and the most sacred law has been overturned by I know not whose legislation’.176 In a
way that resonates with the complaint of Luciferian priests in the Libellus about their treatment
as heretics, Maximus stated ‘as a result of so great a change, those who were previously priests,
are now judged impious. Indeed, devoted to the same commands and the same sacraments, they
believe in the same faith that they previously did’.177

Maximus’s letter to Pope Siricius was written following the execution of Priscillian and six of
his associates, the first Christians known to have been executed for heresy in Late Antiquity.178
The executions were replete with significance for Church-Empire relations. A synod at
Saragossa in 380 had declared Priscillian and a few others to be heretics and excommunicated
them. However, a secular judicial process was subsequently superimposed when Priscillian
appealed to the emperor Gratian’s court and, later, Bishop Ithacius, one of the former’s early
prosecutors, invoked the aid of Maximus and the subsequent charge became the secular one of
sorcery.179 The executions were authorised by Maximus and opposed by Ambrose of Milan,

173
CA 2.2: ‘pro fide catholica decernitis et omni nisu contra haereticos et perfidos imperii vestri
auctoritate conscribitis, non quasi aliqua propriae sententiae nova temptantes, sicut quidam anteriores
principes in suam aliorumque perniciem conati sunt, sed ut ostendatis vestras sententias vestramque piam
fidem cum sacris scripturarum divinarum sententiis et piis confessionibus convenire’.
174
CA 38.4: ‘ad illos [antistites] enim divinarum rerum interpretation, ad nos religionis spectat
obsequium’.
175
H. Chadwick, The Church in Ancient Society, p. 370.
176
CA 39.3: ‘audio enim ……. novis clementiae tuae edictis ecclesiis catholicis vim illatam fuisse,
obsideri in basilicis sacerdotes …… legem sanctissimam sub nomine nescio cuius legis everti’.
177
CA 39.5: ‘quae tanta mutatio, ut, qui antea sacerdotes, nunc sacrilege iudicentur? Isdem certe
praeceptis, isdem sacramentis dicati eadem fide credunt, qua ante crediderunt’.
178
W. Löhr. ‘Western Christianities’ in A. Casiday and F.W. Norris (eds.), The Cambridge History of
Christianity, Vol. 2: Constantine to c. 600 (Cambridge, 2007), p. 39; J. Matthews, Western Aristocracies
and the Imperial Court AD 364-425 (Oxford, 1975), pp. 166-67.
179
H. Chadwick, Priscillian of Avila: The Occult and the Charismatic in the Early Church (Oxford,
1976), pp. 40-46 and 126-32.

104
Martin of Tours and Pope Siricius. Ambrose refused to be in communion with bishops seeking
the death of anyone, even heretics.180 According to Sulpicius Severus, Martin objected on three
grounds: it was wrong for a bishop to prosecute anyone on a capital charge; following the
synodal judgement and excommunications, it was sufficient for the secular arm to expel them
from their churches; charges against bishops should be heard by bishops, not by a secular
tribunal.181 Siricius’s letter, to which CA 40 is a reply, no longer survives but Chadwick
suggested his complaints would have been the same as Martin’s first and third objections.182
Maximus’s letter does not bring these issues to the surface; nor does it indicate that his
intervention, in Sulpicius’s view, resulted in 15 years of conflict between Spanish bishops, a
point which would have echoed the messages in CA 1-2.183 Instead, the parallel that the
compiler appears to have wished to make is to be taken directly from the text of the letter.
Maximus’s assertion that ‘we declare it to be a matter of mind and will for us that the catholic
faith remains uninjured, inviolate and with all dissention driven away, and with all priests
agreeing and in unanimity serving God’ is a statement of an imperial duty to protect the faith,
which partly matches the Luciferians’ acknowledgement in the Libellus that rulers had
responsibility for enacting laws against heresy and that the views of the emperors should reflect
scripture.184 The compiler may also have appreciated Maximus’s answer on another point that
appears to have been raised in Siricius’s letter, the apparently inappropriate promotion of the
Gallic cleric Agroecius to the priesthood. Maximus replied that he would leave this to the
priests to judge: ‘what greater reverence can I show to our religion than catholic priests judge

180
Paulinus, Vita Ambrosii 19, quoted by Chadwick, Priscillian of Avila, pp. 133-34.
181
Sulpicius Severus, Chronicles II, 50.2, in Sulpicius Severus: The Complete Works, trans. with
introduction and notes by R.J. Goodrich, Ancient Christian Writers No. 70 (New York, 2015), p. 179.
Otherwise as summarised by Chadwick, Priscillian of Avila, p. 138.
182
Chadwick, Priscillian of Avila, pp. 147.
183
Sulpicius Severus, Chronicles II, 51.5.
184
CA 40.3: ‘ut fides catholica procul omni dissentione summota concordantibus universis sacerdotibus
et unanimiter deo servientibus illaesa et inviolabilis perserveret’. For the parallel with the Luciferians see
p. 104 and n. 173. The compiler’s selection of this letter with the quote affirming imperial responsibility
for compliance, without any suggestion of limitations on that duty, probably reflects Sulpicius’s
attribution of blame for the executions to discord among the bishops and his positive view of Maximus
which seems to have had a lasting influence. Of the bishops he stated: ‘it can be seen that everything was
stirred up and mixed up by disturbance among the bishops, and because of them, everything was
corrupted by hatred or prestige, fear, inconstancy, envy, factionalism, pleasure, avarice, arrogance,
somnolence and inactivity’ (Chronicles II, 51.5, Complete Works, p. 181). Sulpicius saw Maximus as a
good man led astray by episcopal advisers (Dialogues III, 11.2, Complete Works, p. 240). This fairly
positive view of Maximus was to last: some thirty years after the event Jerome was to regard Priscillian’s
execution as an entirely justified intervention by a secular authority in a religious issue — see Matthews,
Western Aristocracies and the Imperial Court, p. 167; see also Chadwick, Priscillian of Avilla, p. 121.
Escribano Paño, ‘Maximus’ Letters in the Collectio Avellana’, p. 80, argues that both Maximus’s letters
defended non-intervention on the side of emperors, and made the case that the latter were to abide by the
resolutions of councils. However, while this interpretation can be applied to CA 39, I consider that CA 40
was included to argue for a compliance role for emperors in the Church.

105
such matters?’185 This deference to priests’ or to the Church’s judgement is also suggested in
the letters which the compiler selected to narrate the double elections of 366 and 418.

Contested Papal Elections

A common thread running the letters which comprise the second and third subsections (CA 4-
13 and CA 14-37) is the illustration of acceptable engagement by emperors in the difficult issue
of double elections in the Roman Church. The former set of letters shows emperors fulfilling a
compliance role after members of the Church had decided their candidate; the latter set presents
as an example of an acceptable imperial involvement in an election, one in which the emperor
acted as a facilitator rather than as a selector or arbitrator.186

The letters CA 4-13 do not concern the choice between Damasus and Ursinus, rather they
narrate the continuing compliance issues after Damasus had been established as pope.187
Perhaps to underline this point, in an early letter, chronologically out of sequence and the
second in the subsection, an emperor rejoiced in the Roman people’s choice of Siricius as
Damasus’s successor.188 The other letters reflect a concern with public order following
Damasus’s election. In CA 6, on account of a fear for public safety (pro publica securitate), the
emperors Valentinian, Valens, and Gratian ordered the remaining church in Ursinian hands to
be handed over to Damasus.189 In CA 8 and 9, to avoid discord in the city, the emperors
instructed the Urban Prefect, and later the vicarius, that Ursinians should not meet within
twenty miles of the city. Subsequently, after referring to the restrictions imposed on the
followers of Ursinus, the three emperors instructed the Urban Prefect that ‘if anyone of those
mentioned thought that the decree of our clemency was to be transgressed by impious intent, he
will [have cause to] recognise the severity of public censure, not as a Christian, but as a person
remote from the reason of law and religion’.190 A year later, the emperors repeated the message:
the severity of the law would follow such a person ‘not as a Christian … but as a revolutionary,

185
CA 40.2 ‘quid religioni nostrae catholicae possum praestare reverentius, quam ut de hoc ipso …
catholici iudicent sacerdotes?’
186
In using the term ‘facilitator’ I follow G.D. Dunn, ‘Imperial Intervention in the Disputed Roman
Episcopal Election of 418/19’ in Journal of Religious History, 39(1) (2015), p.12.
187
CA 3 is an anomaly in the subsection in that it relates to the construction of St Paul’s, but the compiler
may have intended to flag up another imperial role, that of patrons of major constructions for such a
great religion (pro tantae religionis meritis) (CA 3.3).
188
CA 4 is dated February 385 and is from an unnamed emperor to the Urban Prefect Pinianus (Prefect
385-7). He rejoices in the choice by the people of the best candidate of their church: ‘Populum urbis
aeternae gaudere concordia et optimum eligere sacerdotem et populi Romani esse cernimus instituti et
nostris gratulamur id evenire temporibus’. (CA. 4.1.). CA 5-13 are in chronological order and cover the
period 367-79. CA 3 is dated to 386.
189
CA 6.
190
CA 11.3: ‘quod sib quispiam ex memoratis sacrilege intentione statutum mansuetudinis nostrae
transgrediendum putaverit, non iam ut Christianus sed ut legume ac religionis ratione seclusus
severitatem publicae animadversionis agnoscat’.

106
as a disturber of the public peace and an enemy of religion and law’.191 In the final letter of this
subsection, the emperors put the weight of the state behind Pope Damasus and the Church:
where anyone, condemned by the pope and a council of five or seven bishops, unjustly wishes
to keep his church or does not wish to attend a priestly court, the prefects of Gaul and Italy
were to ensure attendance before the appropriate episcopal court, or provincial governors or
vicarii would ensure their appearance in Rome.192 Collectively, these letters show emperors
exercising compliance powers mostly for state purposes but also for ecclesiastical ones.

The Boniface-Eulalius letters (CA 14-37) concern an emperor’s involvement in the election of a
pope and provide an account which is not only uncritical, but which the compiler may have
proposed as a paradigm. The letters construct a narrative of the process. The prefect
Symmachus, concerned with the public order, reported the double election of Eulalius and
Boniface in 418 to the emperor Honorius, and recommended supporting the former. Honorius
was inclined to endorse his judgement on the grounds Eulalius had the greater support.193
However, petitioned by priests who supported Boniface, he held a synod in Ravenna to resolve
the issue.194 Honorius appears to have attempted to leave the choice to members of the Church
and to have acted impartially. He instructed the synod ‘[to] consider the judgement of God
because, in such a matter, it is manifest that it resides with you, and it is fitting that, after you
have considered everything, you protect it because, with the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, it
can achieve the true reverence of Christian law’.195 When the synod proved inconclusive, he
appointed a visitor to provide services over Easter, communicated with the Senate and the
people, and summoned a wider membership to the council, including Paulinus of Nola, Bishop
Aurelius of Carthage and other African bishops.196 In the event, Eulalius forced his hand by
disobeying the order to stay out of Rome and, as a result, Honorius chose Boniface. The final
letter in the subsection is a rescript from Honorius to Boniface, prompted by the pope, stating
that if two candidates are elected bishop again, both are to be driven from the city.197

191
CA 12.3: ‘qui si … statutum … egrediendum putaverit, eundem, non iam ut Christianus, quippe quem
a communione religionis mentis inquietudo disterminat, sed ut hominem factiosum perturbatoremque
publicae tranquilitatis legum et religionis inimicum iuris severitas persequatur’.
192
CA 13.11: ‘volumus autem, ut, quicumque iudicio Damasi, quod ille cum consilio quinque vel septem
habuerit episcoporum, vel eorum qui catholici sint iudicio atque consilio condemnatus erit, si iniuste
voluerit ecclesiam retentare … seu ab illustribus viris praefectis praetorio Galliae atque Italiae auctoritate
adhibita ad episcopale iudicium remittatur sive a proconsulibus vel vicariis <accitus> ad urbem Romam
sub prosecutione perveniat …’
193
CA 14 ,15 and 16.
194
CA 17 and 20.
195
CA 20.4: ‘attendentes ergo iudicium dei, quod in tali causa vobiscum simul residere manifestum est,
examinatis omnibus id vos custodire decet, quod infudente caelesti spiritu habere Christianae legis
integram reverentiam possit’.
196
CA 22-28.
197
See P.R. Coleman-Norton, note on Rescript of Honorius on Papal Elections, [AD] 420, Roman State
and Christian Church: A Collection of Legal Documents to A.D. 535 (London, 1966), vol. 2, p. 611.

107
Section 1 thus constitutes a coherent and intricate statement on Church-Empire relations that is
also intelligible in terms of events after the Second Council of Constantinople. Structurally, the
subsections that opine on emperors’ involvement in doctrine bookend those on double
elections. The compiler presents a strong argument against secular rulers interfering in
doctrinal matters but shows that they have a role in ensuring compliance, in dealing with
heretics and adjudicating or facilitating in contested papal elections. Most of the content is
understandable in terms of events in the second half of the sixth century. The argument against
imperial intervention in doctrine was endorsed by the situation prevailing after the Council
when the churches of Milan and Aquileia broke off communion; the Istrian schism was to last
until 698. Pelagius I (556-61) and Pelagius II (579-90) called on Byzantine exarchs to fulfil the
emperor’s compliance role in suppressing opposition to the condemnation of the Three
Chapters. 198 I suggest that the Roman Church saw a role for secular rulers in contested
elections. It had a constitutional problem with double elections in that it had no canonical or
procedural means for resolving them; it was content for secular rulers to intervene, provided
they left fundamental elements of choice with the clergy, as was the case in 418-19.199 Lizzi
Testa has recently opined that the documents on the double elections were included as they
were regarded as exemplary episodes, and that they appeared very similar to some
contemporary electoral crises, particularly the Laurentian schism and the election of 530.200 I
clearly agree with her comment about their exemplary nature but consider their inclusion needs
to be understood within the overall framework of a section whose purpose was to opine on
Church-Empire relations. It is possible that two subsections owed something to the contested
elections of 498 and 530, but I am more inclined to think that Justinian’s direct appointment of
Pelagius I to the papacy may have driven the selection.201 I consider that the direct appointment
of popes was deeply inimical to notions of Petrine and apostolic succession: the main thrust of
Leo I’s second sermon, in which the concept of ‘unworthy heir’ appears, was the pope’s joy

198
Pelagius I, Epp, 1-3, PL 69, col. 393-398. On Pelagius II, see Markus, Gregory the Great and his
World, p. 129. Paul the Deacon relates action taken by Smaragdus against the schismatics before 589 in
History of the Lombards, trans. W.D. Foulke, ed. E. Peters (Philadelphia, 1974), III. 26. Markus, in
‘Justinian’s Ecclesiastical Politics and the Western Church’ in Sacred and Secular: Studies on Augustine
and Latin Christianity (Aldershot, 1994), VII, p. 9, observes that Gregory I had increasing difficulty in
getting the emperor and exarch to take action against the Istrian schismatics as the policy of enforcing
religious unity in the reconquered provinces gave way to the need for military control.
199
I show in Chapter 2 that the authors of the Liber Pontificalis took a similar view on Theoderic the
Great’s initial handling of the double election of Symmachus and Laurence in 498. See Chapter 2, p. 62.
200
Lizzi Testa, ‘Introduction’ in The Collectio Avellana and its Revivals, p. xv.
201
I am not aware that there was any element of nomination in the 366 election. Damasus and Ursinus
were elected by the followers of Felix II and Liberius respectively. J. Richards, The Popes and the
Papacy, p. 96, discusses nominations. He points out that Pope Hilarus in 465 prohibited bishops from
nominating successors, which might imply that popes nominated before that date but I consider that
doubtful. Richards does not provide an example before 483. Boniface I’s attempt to avoid a disputed
election involved imperial intervention, not a nomination.

108
that he had been selected by God for the role.202 Appointment by emperors did not sit well with
the theology of primacy.

Part 5 The Compiler and his Readership

Very little is known about the compiler but the collection’s content, interpreted as I suggest,
indicates some of his concerns and his probable status. His defence of doctrinal primacy, his
interest in tracing the development of a new form of jurisdictional primacy, his awareness of
parallels in the Church’s history in the fourth century, and the ecclesiastical content of the
Collectio point strongly to his clerical status and his membership of the Roman Church. I
suggest we can assume that he was a supporter of Pope Vigilius and/or what he stood for. His
access to the First Constitutum points to him being close to that pope’s inner circle. If close, it
is possible that he was aware of the Second Constitutum, in which Vigilius condemned the
Three Chapters but, as with Athanasius’s forbearance over Liberius’s surrender to Constantius,
he may have chosen to ignore it. Alternatively, he may have wanted to support the stance that
the First Constitutum represented.

As I discuss above, the Collectio gives us reasons to think that groups in the Church took
different positions on the condemnation of the Three Chapters, and that the compiler identified
with the constituency which opposed it. In addition, I think it likely that those who opposed the
condemnation also thought that the pope could not bind or loose the sins of the deceased, the
core point in Vigilius’s defence of Theodore of Mopsuestia in First Constitutum. Popes after
Vigilius prevaricated for a long time before publicly repeating the condemnation of the Three
Chapters: in correspondence Popes Pelagius I and II passed over the Council in silence, simply
reaffirming the faith of the four prior ecumenical councils.203 In a letter issued in the name of
Pelagius II between 586 and 590, Gregory the Great accepted the decision of the Council and
acknowledged that the dead could be condemned.204 I consider that it is reasonable to propose
the existence of parties taking different positions on the condemnation between the Council and
Gregory’s letter. I suggest that it is likely that the compiler intended the Collectio to circulate
among and to appeal to those who did not accept or were doubtful about the condemnation, and
that it had a currency of approximately 31-35 years.

202
Leo I, Sermon 2, trans. J.P. Freeland and A.J. Conway, St Leo the Great Sermons, The Fathers of the
Church Vol 93, (Washington, 1996), pp. 19-20.
203
Markus, Gregory the Great and his World, p.127.
204
Pelagius II, Ep. 5, PL 72, cols. 715-38. Gregory referred to the matter of condemning the deceased at
Ep. 5.9, PL 72, cols. 723-24. For the timing of the letter, see above, p. 86, n. 91.

109
Once we accept that the Collectio is a letter collection, I suggest we know a little more about
the compiler and the institutional environment in which the more senior members of the clergy
operated. He appears to have been familiar with the genre. His use of the genre implies a
reasonably high level of education, and that they were one of the mediums through which
political debate was conducted within the Roman Church. I suggest that the debate would not
simply have been about the condemnation of the Chapters, but would have embraced the
related discussions on the appropriateness of condemning the dead and the post-mortem
activity of saints which, we know, took place in Constantinople. The compiler gives us the
faintest of hints that these debates took place in Rome as well: in part, and in a limited fashion,
he tracks the debate from Gelasius to Vigilius. Inter alia, the collection provided the underlying
documents to support one side of the debate.

The Collectio also suggests that, as with the case of John Lydus in the eastern praetorian
prefecture, there were people in the Roman Church, in a tier below the top of the organisation,
who promoted the interest of their group while also displaying a strategic awareness of the
issues affecting the institution. Chris Kelly has pointed to a need for Lydus to continually
reconcile personal advantage and benefits from mutual and cooperative effort. In the compiler’s
case, I suggest that he promoted the interest of his group by defending Vigilius; he defended
the interests of the Church by tracking developments in and promoting primacy. In his
assessment of Church-Empire relations, I suggest that he displayed a keen awareness of the
deficiencies of his organisation and of factors in the external environment which affected his
institution.

Conclusion

The Collectio Avellana needs to be understood as a late antique letter collection. Once this
hermeneutical key is applied, the collection’s structure and the objectives of the compiler
become apparent. As a letter collection it is intricate. All five sections of the collection are
intelligible in terms of one or more of the objectives that I identify. It is a hybrid episcopal and
papal collection, concerned with both the reputation of Vigilius, and tracking developments in
and promoting papal authority. It also gives us a rare hint of a major debate within the Church,
which we know also took place in Constantinople.

The collection evinces a significant interest in and concern with papal authority and primacy; it
shows assertions of primacy in the world after 476. It shows that, in the world after 476, two
components of papal authority that I discuss in Chapter 1, came to the fore: demonstrations of
leadership and the pope’s position at the centre of the Christian communio. The compiler’s
selections show that the Church strongly pressed the success of Leo I and his Tome. The
compiler supplemented this by presenting two other examples of papal leadership on doctrine,

110
those of Felix III and Gelasius I. The development of the new interpretation of the power to
bind and loose, the authority of the pope or Roman Church to determine membership of the
entire Christian community, was a product of the events of 476 and 482. With the loss of the
coercive power and political support of western emperors, the role of the Roman Church as the
centre of the communio had the potential to resurface. The need to explain the
excommunications of Acacius and the other patriarchs led Gelasius to consider the full
implications of the power to bind and loose in Matthew 16. By the end of the schism the pope’s
role at the centre had evolved into his right and power to determine membership of the
Christian community. This power was deployed when Hormisdas sought to have names
removed from diptychs, and when popes responded to Justinian’s request to excommunicate
the Acoimetae monks.

The new interpretation calls for a reassessment of the understanding of how papal power
operated in late antiquity. Papal authority in this period is primarily perceived in jurisdictional
terms, and as weak because the Church had no means of enforcing its claims, other than by
persuading compliant secular rulers to help. However, popes had some power. As I state in
Chapter I, they had some, non-exclusive, authority in doctrinal matters due to ideas about
apostolic tradition, and due to its record for orthodoxy, which Irenaeus was the first to note.
Further, the desire to be in communion with Rome gave rise to the role of the bishop of Rome
at the centre of the communio. These factors were present after 476, and the role of the bishop
of Rome at the centre acquired additional force when it came to be expressed as the power to
bind and loose.

The findings in this chapter also call into question Demacopoulos’s thesis that assertions of
papal authority were loudest in moments of weakness. The absolution of Misenus was not, as
he argues, an act of weakness. Far from it, sending a report of the Roman synod of 495, which
explained why Acacius, now deceased, could not be rehabilitated and restored to communion,
was a strong strategic move by the pope during the middle of the schism. The negotiations over
acceptance of the theopaschite formula, with both sides (the emperor Justinian and successive
popes) managing the interaction between a new formulation of papal authority and imperial
power, were grounded in reality. Instead of identifying strong assertions of papal authority and
seeking to explain them in terms of the popes’ apparently weak positions, more understanding
may be achieved by accepting that popes after 476 were in a fundamentally weakened position
and seeking to understand why did they exert as much power as they did.

The disquisition on Church-Empire relations in Section 1 of the Collectio Avellana was both a
reflection of the change in the Church following the demise of western emperors and a vision
which saw the Church as an institution functioning in a wider society ruled over by an emperor.
The Church-Empire relationship had been significantly called into question, if not fractured by

111
the double events of 476 and 482. One version of this re-examination was Gelasius’s letter to
the emperor Anastasius in which he outlined his theory of two powers, the sacerdotium
(priesthood) and imperium (empire). What we see in the Collectio is more practical expression
of the relationship that was relevant for the Roman Church as an institution. Some historians
suggest that the compiler intended to show popes acting independently of imperial intervention,
affirming papal independence, or depicting the papacy as a powerful institution.205 I suggest
instead that, doctrinal primacy aside, the selections show a need for imperial involvement in
specified areas, and an awareness that the Church was an institution that operated in a society
that was ruled over by an emperor.

The Collectio potentially gives us an insight into a major internal division in the Church and
how such debates were managed. As I show, there was a probable division between those who
accepted the condemnation of the Three Chapters and those who did not, a split probably
mirrored between those who believed that saints could work miracles and those who were
sceptical. I speculate that these debates probably continued in the period 554-585 and the
Collectio may have provided material to fuel the discussion. If this is the case, it points to a
sophisticated working culture in the papal administration in the second half of the sixth century.

Blair-Dixon, ‘Memory and authority’, pp.69-70; Viezure, ‘Collectio Avellana and the Unspoken
205

Ostrogoths’, p. 102; Escribano, ‘Maximus’ Letters’, pp. 76-77.

112
CHAPTER 4

The Roman Church and Patronage, AD 476-c.600: the Transformation of an Institution

This chapter examines the development of the Roman Church as an institution in the period
476-604 through the prism of patronage. My hypothesis is that the year 476 was highly
significant in the Church’s development as an institution and, to test this, I compare patterns of
patronage before and after that date. My approach is informed by the observations of historical
institutionalists who note that the equilibrium of institutions can be disturbed or punctured by
external events (‘exogenous shocks’), after which they have to adjust and re-stabilise. In 476
the environment of the Church changed. Previously, the Church had been part of western
imperial arrangements, if not formally part of the imperial bureaucracy. Critically, in 476 it lost
its major patrons, the western emperors and their families. Subsequent rulers in Rome and
central Italy, the Herulian Odoacer (476-93) and the Ostrogoth Theoderic (493-526), followed
by Justinian and the Byzantine administration (after 536), were not indifferent to the Roman
Church but there are questions as to the degree of their patronage, and to the extent that it
mattered. There is a supplementary question as to whether western aristocrats, some of whom
had been incentivised to follow their emperors’ leadership, also ceased to be patrons, or stepped
into the breach as opportunities for them opened up in Rome.

In this chapter I argue that the loss of western emperors and their families as patrons mattered
to the Church. It was an exogenous shock and triggered transformative changes. I show that
other rulers and administrations did not replace western emperors and, arguably, eastern
emperors became competitors as they built their own churches in the city. Aristocrats, as a
class, had not been wholehearted patrons of the Church before 476; after that date they were
even less so as they pursued more local projects. The position of clerics as patrons is not as
clear but the indications are that they ceased to be significant patrons as new financial
arrangements were put in place as a post-476 response and as, in at least some cases, clerical
‘patronage’ became payment for position. Popes emerged as the main patrons, a process which,
I argue, had a unifying effect on the institution. The focus of papal patronage on major basilicas
and cemeteries reveals much about the functions and objectives of the Church. The fact that
this strategic focus of patronage started in the pontificates of Sixtus III (432-40) and Hilarus
(461-68) does not, in my view, invalidate the year 476 as a turning point; rather it demonstrates
the ‘stickiness’ of behaviour which historical institutionalists categorise as ‘path dependence’.

113
The Institution of the Roman Church

In this thesis I define the Roman Church as the institution that discharged the bishop’s pastoral
responsibilities in Rome. I exclude churches which fell under his wider responsibilities as
metropolitan of suburbicarian Italy and patriarch of the West, and consideration of the
patrimonies of St Peter, except where the bishop’s behaviour in those areas informed the
exercise of his patronage in Rome. For the purpose of this chapter, I explain what this means in
practice. The institution under consideration therefore comprises four categories of churches
and ‘basilical monasteries’. The churches include those founded by emperors but liturgically
under episcopal control (for instance St Peter’s, St Paul’s and the Basilica Constantiniana); the
25 or so tituli (parish churches) which had evolved by the fifth century to meet the needs of
Roman congregations; churches such as the basilica Julii, S. Mariae and S. Stephani in celio
monte, which had no resident clergy but had organisational or liturgical functions; and
cemeterial basilicas under papal control.1 We do not know the full position concerning
monasteries and convents in Rome, but I include basilical monasteries, those which provided
choir services to important Roman basilicas.2 We know of four, possibly five monasteries or
convents in the fifth century, three of which should be considered basilical.3 For the sixth
century Ferrari additionally identifies one definite and two possible basilical monasteries.4

I exclude three categories of church or monastery on the grounds that they were not part of the
core episcopal function and responsibility: aristocrats’ private or estate chapels and churches;
those founded by the Byzantine administration after Justinian’s reconquest (536-54); and
private monasteries. A difficult but important example in the first category is the aristocrat
Demetrias’s construction and dedication of a church to St Stephen on her estate on the Via
Lata. Its mention in the Liber Pontificalis implies a level of institutional inclusion and
archaeologists have found a baptistry which some historians recognise as an indicator of
episcopal pastoral involvement.5 However, I consider it significant that the church did not

1
In this chapter and in the thesis, I use the Latin names for churches except for St Peter’s, St Paul’s and
St Laurence’s for which there is widespread common English usage. I use ‘Basilica Constantiniana’
when referring to the church built by Constantine at the Lateran as the more familiar term, ‘the Lateran’,
can be understood as the episcopal palace (episcopium) or the centre of the papal administration.
2
The definition of ‘basilical church’ is taken from Guy Ferrari, Early Roman Monasteries: Notes for the
History of Monasteries and Convents at Rome from the V through the X century, Studi di antichità
Cristiana, no. 23 (Rome, 1978), p. 365.
3
The three are Pope Sixtus III (432-40)’s foundation In Catacumbas near S. Sebastiani on the Via Appia,
Pope Leo I (440-61)’s SS. Iohannis et Pauli at the Vatican, and Pope Hilarus (461-68)’s dedication,
probably to St Stephen, near St Laurence’s. See Ferrari, Early Roman Monasteries, pp. 163-72 and 315-
18.
4
The definite one is S. Victoris ad S. Pancratium, the possibles are S. Andreae cata Barbara and S.
Pancratii in Laterano, the first monastery in the two centuries which may have provided services at the
Lateran. See Ferrari, Early Roman Monasteries, pp. 51-57, 242-53 and 341-44.
5
LP 47.1.

114
become a titulus and it appears to have had the character of a dynastic funerary chapel.6 I agree
with Carlos Machado’s statement that the case for episcopal control should not be pushed too
hard.7 For different reasons, I exclude churches founded by the Byzantine administration: as I
show below, they responded to their own agenda, and probably acted in competition with the
Roman Church. No priests from either category of church can be identified in the subscription
lists of the Roman synods of 499 and 595, a strong indicator that they were not constituent parts
of the Roman Church. I also exclude monasteries such as Gregory I’s former home, S. Andreae
ad clivum Scauri, which was endowed on a private basis and was not attached to a basilica;
although it provided the pope with personnel for his administration, that connection only
prevailed in his pontificate.8

Patronage

I address patronage that operates in this institutional framework rather than personal patronage.
The patronage that I address is that recognised by historians of this period: the construction and
provision of buildings; structural alterations, decoration of churches (including mosaics,
embellishments and flooring); additional works that are less than buildings (such as baptismal
fonts); maintenance and repairs; provision of liturgical furnishings and vessels for services; and
any form of funding. Endowments, in the form of gifts of sources of income such as farms or
estates, were the paradigm form of funding. The Liber Pontificalis details most of these forms
of patronage. The patrons under consideration include emperors, kings, aristocrats, other lay
people, popes and clergy. By clergy I mean members of the Church other than the bishop
(priests, deacons, subdeacons, lectors, etc.,). I exclude from the analysis personal patronage, the
form that expresses patron-client relationships, as the sources will not yield relevant
information. John Lydus’s On Powers shows that personal patronage did operate in
administrations at the time.9 However, it is very difficult, if not impossible, to tease out these
relationships from the extant Roman ecclesiastical sources.10

6
It had the tomb of Sextus Anicius Paulinus (consul, 325) inside the basilica ‘with corpse in situ’. See C.
Machado, ‘Roman aristocrats and the Christianisation of Rome’ in P. Brown, and R. Lizzi Testa (eds.),
Pagans and Christians in the Roman Empire: The Breaking of a Dialogue (IVth-VIth Century A.D.),
Proceedings of the International Conference at the Monastery of Bose (October 2008) (Zurich, 2011), p.
502.
7
Machado, ‘Roman aristocrats and the Christianisation of Rome’, pp. 504. In contrast, D. Kinney,
‘Expanding the Christian Footprint’, in I. Foletti and M. Gianandrea (eds.), The Fifth Century in Rome:
Art, Liturgy Patronage, Studia Artium Mediaevalium Brunensia, no. 4 (Rome, 2017), p. 81, considers
the church a parochia, and the first clearly identifiable example of a papal basilica intended to provide
for the living, rather than the dead, in the suburbium. Either interpretation is possible but I prefer
Machado’s assessment of it as a dynastic chapel.
8
Markus Gregory the Great and his World, pp. 10 and 71; J. Richards, Consul of God: The Life and
Times of Gregory the Great (London, 1980), pp. 31-36 and 70-72.
9
John Lydus, On Powers, I.15. p. 29; Kelly, Ruling the Later Roman Empire, p. 51.
10
I also exclude from the analysis tax exemptions which could be considered a form of patronage. There
is almost no evidence for the period after 476 on this subject. A fragment of a letter of Gelasius I to the
Ostrogoth Theoderic, suggesting that he honour the laws of Roman emperors because of the reverence

115
Sources

We must reconstruct patronage at Rome by gleaning from a variety of sources: textual,

archaeological, artistic and epigraphic. The Liber Pontificalis is the major textual source but, as
Robert Coates-Stephens and others have shown, it has a clear papal bias: it omits many non-
papal buildings and other forms of patronage.11 However, if considered as a history of the
Roman Church, rather than as a history of Rome, that bias may not be as great as some think.
An additional textual source is the subscription lists of the Roman synods of 499 and 595,
which may provide the only information that we have for a particular church. Other sources of
considerable importance include: the five-volume Corpus Basilicarum Christianarum Romae;12
G.B. De Rossi’s Inscriptiones Christianae Urbis Roma and the ten-volume new series with the
same title edited by A. Silvagni and others and E. Diehl’s Inscriptiones Latinae Christianae
Veteres.13 Additionally, I look at a few fourth- and early fifth-century elite Roman sarcophagi
and several fifth- and sixth-century church mosaics. Overall, the picture on patronage remains
incomplete although it is being added to as further archaeological findings become public.

Historiography

The overarching concern of much of the scholarship on patronage of the Roman Church has
been to explain the emergence of the papacy as an institution, and for this, church construction
has attracted the most interest. Historians and archaeologists have mainly taken one or more of
three approaches. First, a few have sought to explain the rise of the bishop of Rome to a
position of dominance in the city through church building. Second, other scholars, taking an
isomorphic approach in linking papal buildings with imperial and senatorial constructions,
argue that constructing churches was a component of papal authority. Third, another group of
historians has focused on a particular class of patron, mainly aristocrats but more recently
clergy, either on its own and/or on how its members interacted with other classes. The
approaches are not mutually exclusive. Most of the scholarship has focused on the period
before 476.

due to the apostle Peter, might, at a considerable stretch, suggest that tax exemptions were under threat
but little or nothing can be made of this subject. Fragment 12, in Epistolae Romanorum Pontificum, pp.
489-90, quoted in Neil and Allen, The Letters of Gelasius I, pp. 23-24.
11
I discuss below R. Coates-Stephens, ‘Byzantine Building Patronage in Post-Reconquest Rome’ in M.
Ghilardi et al.(eds). Les Cités de l’Italie tardo-antique (IVe-VIe siècle): Institutions, Économie. Culture
et Religion (Rome, 2006), pp. 149-66.
12
R. Krautheimer et al., Corpus Basilicarum Christianarum Romae, The Early Christian Basilicas of
Rome (IV to IX Centuries), Monumenti di antichità cristiana Series 2, no. 2, 5 vols. (Rome, 1937-77).
13
G.B. De Rossi (ed.), Inscriptiones Christianae Urbis Romae septimo saeculo antiquiores, Vols. I-II.1
(1857-88); A. Silvagni, A Ferrua, and D. Mazzoleni (eds.), Inscriptiones Christianae Urbis Romae
septimo saeculo antiquiores: nova series, 10 vols. (Rome, 1922-85); E. Diehl (ed.), Inscriptiones
Latinae Christianae Veteres, 3 vols. (Berlin, 1925-31).

116
A strand in the historiography, now accepted as teleological, sought to explain the rise of the
Church of Rome in the city by reference to dominant papal church building. Richard
Krautheimer argued that the dominance started at the beginning of the fourth century, that the
papacy had a programme, and that by the second third of the fifth century church building in
Rome had become the exclusive responsibility of the papacy.14 While not going as far, Hugo
Brandenburg similarly considers that there was a strategy to establish a Christian presence in
key locations to raise the Church’s profile.15 Against these views, John Curran observes that
fourth-century bishops of Rome were frequent builders, but they could not mobilise resources
on an imperial scale, and there was no comprehensive programme to cover Rome with
churches.16 Manuela Gianandrea suggests that by the middle of the fifth century popes had
gone beyond their basic concerns of territorial expansion and organisation for the care of souls,
and were triumphantly affirming themselves through monumental and luxurious buildings. She
also notes that from the pontificate of Sixtus III (432-40) onwards, the focal point of papal
evergetism was the ‘great sanctuaries’ (St Peter’s, St Paul’s, St Laurence’s and the Basilica
Constantiniana) and that, contra Krautheimer, the pope was not the only patron: there was
widespread concurrent commissioning of buildings by emperors, aristocrats and rich laymen.17

Other historians argue that church construction was an expression of papal authority as, in an
isomorphic fashion, it echoed imperial public building in Rome. The construction of public
monuments in Rome was invariably an expression of imperial authority or senatorial prestige.
From the middle of the Augustus’s reign public spaces were the preserve of the imperial family
and their most loyal supporters. Curran argues that Constantine’s constructions of Christian
churches fell within the framework of existing public architecture: they were intended to reflect
‘size, grandeur and richness’, to promote Constantine, to assert his piety and to declare his
triumphant leadership.18 Similarly, Nicola Camerlenghi considers that Theodosius I, in
constructing St Paul’s on a scale to match St Peter’s, asserted both his equality with
Constantine and the arrival of a new dynasty.19 This strong association between emperors’
political aims and major public construction has led to similar connections being made between
episcopal constructions and popes’ objectives and aspirations. Caroline Goodson argues that
churches founded and endowed by emperors and popes were ‘new forms of old monuments’

14
Krautheimer, Rome: Profile of a City (Princeton, 1980/2000), Chapter 2, especially pp. 34 and 52.
15
H. Brandenburg, Ancient Churches of Rome: From the Fourth to the Seventh Centuries. The Dawn of
Christian Architecture in the West. Bilbiothèque de l’Antiquité Tardive, no. 8 (Turnhout, 2005), pp. 134,
153 and 165-66.
16
J. Curran, Pagan City and Roman Capital: Rome in the Fourth Century (Oxford, 2000), pp. 117 and
156.
17
M. Gianandrea, ‘The Artistic Patronage of the Popes in Fifth-Century Rome’ in Foletti and Gianandrea
(eds.), The Fifth Century in Rome, pp. 183-202 and 211-13.
18
Curran, Pagan City and Roman Capital, pp. 112-14.
19
N. Camerlenghi, St Paul’s Outside the Walls: A Roman Basilica, from Antiquity to the Modern Era
(Cambridge, 2018), p. 44. Camerlenghi observes that although the church is known as the ‘Basilica of
the Three Emperors’, Theodosius was the dominant patron.

117
and, for instance, the church of SS. Cosmae et Damiani with its apse mosaic was ‘a new
expression of civic munificence’.20 Ward-Perkins suggests that the Liber Pontificalis shows
that fine buildings as displays of piety and splendour were expected of popes as much as they
were of the secular ruler.21 Herman Geertman considers that the text, with its detail of papal
constructions, consciously outlined an image of the bishops of Rome as benefactors equal to
worthy emperors.22

Since the 1970s there has been a major focus on the role of aristocrats as patrons with some
historians addressing their connections with tituli, and others exploring how Christianisation
resulted in patronage. Charles Pietri was the first to emphasise the role of the aristocracy; he
argued that they founded and endowed tituli, mostly in the fourth century if not earlier.23 Peter
Llewellyn also considered the tituli to be aristocratic foundations and saw an inherent tension
between the titular clergy, whose independence was underwritten by their endowments, and
their bishop.24 The Manchester University-based Religion, Dynasty and Patronage Project
(RDPP), which sought to update Pietri and Llewellyn’s work, was predicated on the notion that
the role of lay elites in Christian institutions in Rome has been underappreciated due to a loss
of non-papal archives.25 There is a broad, but not complete, consensus that due to aristocratic
funding tituli remained at least semi-independent into the sixth century, as evidenced by titular
priests’ behaviour in the Laurentian schism (498-506/7).26 Kate Cooper, a RDPP member,
envisages a Roman Church comprised of competing titular-based factions in which clergy were
led by aristocrats.27

Other historians have considered aristocratic patronage as a function of the class’s ‘almost
genetically wired’ propensity to civic evergetism and their Christianisation, but have not
necessarily focused exclusively on Rome.28 Ward-Perkins observes that for most propertied
classes in Northern Italy in Late Antiquity, the construction of church buildings was a wholly
new venture: it satisfied traditional secular needs and new religious ones, the benefit of their or

20
Goodson, ‘Roman Archaeology in Medieval Rome’, pp. 23–45.
21
Ward-Perkins, From Classical Antiquity to the Middle Ages, p. 77.
22
Geertman, H., ‘La genesi del Liber Pontificalis romano’, pp. 37-107, particularly p. 43.
23
Pietri, Roma christiana, p. 573 and ‘Evergétisme et richesses ecclésiastiques dans l’Italie du IVe à la
fin du Ve siècle: l’exemple romain’, Ktema 3 (1978), pp. 317-37, both quoted by P. Brown, Through the
Eye of a Needle: Wealth, the Fall of Rome, and the Making of Christianity in the West, 350-550 AD
(Princeton, 2012), p. 248 and n. 23. Also, Pietri, ‘Donateurs et pieux établissements d’après le légendier
roman (Ve-VIIe s.) in Hagiographie, cultures, sociétes. IVe-XIIe siècles, Actes du colloque organise à
Nanterre et à Paris (2-5 Mai 1979), (Paris, 1981), pp. 435-53.
24
Llewellyn, ‘The Roman Church during the Laurentian Schism’, pp 417-27, especially 425-27.
25
Cooper and Hillner (eds.), Religion, Dynasty and Patronage, pp. 3-7. In their Introduction, Cooper and
Hillner frequently use the term ‘lay’ rather than ‘aristocratic’ but, I suggest, it is clear in almost all cases
that they mean ‘aristocratic’.
26
Brown, Through the Eye of a Needle, p. 489.
27
Cooper and Hillner, Religion, Dynasty and Patronage, p. 12.
28
Brown’s felicitous expression, Through the Eye of a Needle, p. 68.

118
their relatives’ souls or gaining the goodwill of God and the saints.29 Peter Brown has also
stressed the novelty of the motivation to give to the Church: replacing civic evergetism with
almsgiving required an ‘imaginative revolution’ with donors wishing to ‘build up treasure in
heaven’ for themselves. He considers the core aristocracy converted in the 340s/350s, argues
that the truly rich began to enter the church after 370, and opines that the late fourth
century/early fifth century was the time when the ‘footprint of real wealth could now be seen in
Christian churches all over the city’.30 He points to the difficulty in identifying the rich patrons
but suggests that they were ‘new men’ who operated at a level below the likes of the consul and
four-time prefect Petronius Probus, and the consul and urban prefect Aurelius Symmachus,
who spent 2,000 pounds of gold on celebratory games for his son’s praetorship.31 Michele
Salzman sees much of the aristocracy remaining pagan into the 380s/390s.32 She points to a
division between the old senatorial families who were slower to convert and newly advanced
aristocrats.33 She argues that aristocrats were inclined to follow the example of emperors as
patrons of the Church, not as a top-down exercise, but because emperors acted in
conventionally aristocratic ways.34 Brown’s, and to a lesser extent Salzman’s, identification of
new aristocrats as patrons is supported by findings of Gregory Kalas and Carlos Machado, who
show in regard to two examples in Rome how aspirant or newly-ennobled aristocrats used
constructions, in one case a basilica, in the other a mausoleum attached to the high-profile
Basilica Apostolorum, to consolidate their positions among the elite.35

In recent years there has been an increased interest in clerical patronage of the Roman Church.
Julia Hillner follows Federico Guidobaldi in offering a more positive assessment of the clergy’s
contribution in founding and maintaining titular churches.36 She observes that we know much
more about clerics than about the aristocrats involved in the tituli, and suggests many of them
were from wealthy urban classes and may have engaged in constructions, even when aristocrats
were the original founders. She rejects the likelihood of aristocratic endowments. She posits
that from a financial perspective, clerical patronage of tituli was possible.37 One question

29
Ward-Perkins, From Classical Antiquity to the Middle Ages, p. 71.
30
Brown, Through the Eye of a Needle, p. 247.
31
Brown, Through the Eye of a Needle, p. 115.
32
M.R. Salzman, The Making of a Christian Aristocracy: Social and Religious Change in the Western
Roman Empire (Cambridge MA, 2002), p. 79.
33
Salzman, The Making of a Christian Aristocracy, 179.
34
Salzman, The Making of a Christian Aristocracy, 198.
35
G. Kalas, ‘Architecture and Elite Identity in Late Antique Rome: Appropriating the Past at
Sant’Andrea Catabarbara’, Papers of the British School at Rome, 81 (2013), pp. 279-302; Machado,
‘Roman aristocrats and the Christianisation of Rome’, pp. 517-528.
36
F. Guidobaldi, ‘’La Fondazione delle basiliche titulori di Roma nel iv e v secolo. Assenze e presenze
nel Liber Pontificalis’ in Papers of the Netherlands Institute in Rome (Antiquity), 60(1) (2003), quoted
by J. Hillner, ‘Clerics, property and patronage: the case of the Roman titular churches’, Antiquité
Tardive, 14(1) (2006), pp. 60.
37
Hillner, ‘Clerics, property and patronage’, pp. 59-68; Hillner, ‘Families, patronage and the titular
churches of Rome’ in Cooper and Hillner (eds.), Religion, Dynasty and Patronage, pp. 245-48.

119
currently receiving more attention is the extent to which particular churches may have been
family concerns, which may lead to some re-assessment of current views. Salzman points out
that in fifth-century Rome sons were advanced into positions in tituli, and that three of the
twelve popes in that century had fathers who were titular priests, and the fathers of two others
held the key position of deacon.38 However, to date no work, of which I am aware, attempts to
explain how the position of the Roman clergy might have changed as the Church was
transformed in the sixth century.

My analysis and argument differ in certain important respects from this scholarship. I agree
with Gianandrea’s identification of popes’ focus on major basilicas starting with Sixtus III, but
rather than seeing this as part of a triumphal affirmation the papal presence in the city, I argue
that it represented a strategic focus on the Church’s major assets for liturgical and pastoral
purposes. I accept that there were isomorphic components to the popes’ authority in that they
constructed churches and in so doing earned prestige, but I consider this should not be pushed
too far. As I show, the Roman Church was an ecclesiastical institution with its own concerns
and institutional agendas. My focus on the Church as the institution in Rome results in
conclusions which are different to those of historians who look at the Roman Church-
aristocracy relationship more broadly. I point to major changes in the clergy’s position,
significantly affecting their role as patrons after 476, a development which, to date, has been
largely unaddressed.

Argument and Methodology

Methodologically, I analyse and compare patterns of patronage before and after 476 by
reference to class of patron and category of patronage. I examine the earlier period in order to
establish a base with which to consider changes after 476 and to test the hypothesis that the
cessation of the line of western emperors was a significant factor in the development and the
transformation of the Roman Church as an institution. I focus on patronage of the Church as
defined above rather than a looser understanding of the Roman Church. I argue that the demise
of western emperors in 476 had a significant impact on patronage of the Church and
transformed the institution. Secular rulers ceased to be major patrons of the Church. Aristocrats
continued on the trajectory established before 476 of seeing to their own interests; they ceased
to be significant patrons sometime before their exodus from Rome at the start of the Gothic
Wars. Clergy ceased to be observable as patrons as a new financial arrangement gave them a
share in success and profits of the Church and, for some, clerical office became an investment.
Popes emerged as the sole main patrons and strategically focused their patronage on the three

38
M.R Salzman, presentation on ‘Presbyters in the Tituli in 5th-Century Rome: Patrons and Clients’,
Leeds International Medieval Congress, 2-5 July 2018.

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major basilicas, cemeterial basilicas and cemeteries, possibly as a reflection of reduced
resources. They also developed a new form of patronage, the introduction of saint-cults.

Going forward, I divide the chapter into two sections, showing the patronage of the Roman
Church before and after 476. In Section 1, I analyse the incidence of different forms of
patronage for the period 312-476 before considering the respective contributions of emperors,
aristocrats, popes and clergy. In Section 2, I first show that subsequent secular rulers (Herulian
and Ostrogothic kings and eastern emperors) did not become serious patrons and that
aristocrats as a class ceased to be major patrons. I explain the transformation of the clergy’s
relationship with the Church which resulted in them ceasing to be significant patrons. I then
consider the position of popes as patrons and show how new saint-cults became a new form of
patronage.

Section 1: Patronage of the Roman Church 312-476

In this section, I analyse patterns of patronage from the conversion of Constantine (312) to the
deposition of Romulus Augustulus (476). I focus on the three main forms of patronage for
which information is available (constructions; decoration, additions, alterations and repairs; and
liturgical furnishings and vessels) before consolidating the results to assess the contribution of
each class of patron. The problems with the data are considerable. Nevertheless, certain trends
are observable. Western emperors remained patrons throughout the period. The position of
aristocrats is difficult to determine: they enter the record as patrons at the point that Brown and
Salzman suggest, but their contribution may not have resulted in many churches and where it
did, it is appropriate to consider how the aristocrats processed developments; those whom
historians identify as the more likely patrons appear to have made their patronage work to their
political and social advantage. It is difficult to be certain about popes’ contributions as patrons
but in the last third of the period there was a discernible trend of their directing their patronage
in ways that supported their liturgical and pastoral responsibilities. The clergy were notable
players but at times it is difficult to determine whether they were patrons or project managers of
others’ patronage.

Tables

The principal data is shown in three Tables. Each table starts with the reign of Constantine.
Clearly there were patrons before him but he transformed the landscape of Christian evergetism
and I consider the year 312 to be an appropriate starting point. In constructing the tables, I have
had to make decisions on whether works should count as a new basilica (and so be placed in

121
Table 4.1) or fall to be treated as alterations (Table 4.2); where the work has been sufficiently
substantial so as to appear to be a new entity, I have treated it as a new construction.39 I divide
the period into three sub-periods: from the conversion of Constantine to the end of Liberius’s
pontificate (312-66), from the pontificate of Damasus to that of Celestine (366-432) and from
Pope Sixtus III to the deposition of Romulus Augustulus (432-76). As Damasus and Sixtus
were significant in the development of the papacy, the former for bringing a new approach to
papal authority and arguably for encouraging new patrons, the latter for inaugurating a new
building programme, their reigns conveniently introduce the second and third sub-periods.

The tables need to be read with some caution. The Liber Pontificalis is very important as a
source but it probably under-reports non-papal patronage. It can be difficult to determine who
was the main patron in circumstances where there may have been more than one, either
sequentially or contemporaneously, or where roles of individuals are unclear. A domus
ecclesiae may have started as an aristocratic donation and then have been converted into a
substantial titulus by its clergy or the pope. F.W. Deichmann notes in regard to Ravenna that
Bishop Ecclesius’s role was limited to authorising the construction of San Vitale at Ravenna,
yet he was viewed as a donor.40 The same convention may have been at play in Rome. It
remains unclear whether Pope Leo I or the empress Galla Placidia repaired St Paul’s after a
fire. The Liber states that Leo renewed the building.41 However, an inscription reports: ‘the
pious soul of Placidia rejoices that through the care of Pope Leo her father’s work shines
through’.42 Camerlenghi suggests that the absence of any mention of Valentinian III indicates
that the empress sponsored the project financially herself.43 In several examples it is difficult to
know if clerics were donors or project managers: Vestina, a femina illustris, undoubtedly
endowed a titulus in Innocent I’s pontificate, but the Liber also attributes it to the efforts
(laborantibus) of the priests Ursicinus and Leopardus and the deacon Livianus.44

I use the terms church and basilica interchangeably; in this I follow the authors of the Liber
Pontificalis who sometimes used ‘basilica’ to describe those churches in Rome which were not
tituli but equally used it for tituli.45 Between the Synods of Rome in 499 and 595 the names of a
number of tituli changed from those of probable secular patrons to those of saints. In the tables,

39
For Tables 4.1 and 4.2 see the Appendix (Tables), pp. 183-91 and 192-98.
40
F.W. Deichmann, Ravenna, Hauptstadt in der spätantiken Abendlandes (Wiesbaden, 1976), pp. 7-33,
quoted by D. Deliyannis, Ravenna in late Antiquity (Cambridge, 2010), p. 225.
41
LP 47.6: ‘Hic … et beati Pauli post ignem divinum renovavit’;’
42
ICUR-NS, II, no. 4784: ‘Placidiae pia mens operis decus omne paterni / Gaudet Pontificis Studio
splendere Leonis’.
43
Camerlenghi, St Paul’s Outside the Walls, p.93.
44
LP, 42.3: ‘[Innocentius] dedicavit basilicam sanctorum Gervasi et Protasi ex devotione cuiusdam
inlustris feminae Vestinae, laborantibus presbiteris Ursicino et Leopardo et diacono Liviano’.
45
Glossary, The Book of the Pontiffs, pp. 108-09.

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I start with the original name and show the new name in brackets. Churches may appear twice
or more (with numbers in brackets) if they were re-built or reconstructed.

Church Constructions 312-476

For the period before 312, Table 4.1 records eleven house-churches or domus ecclesiae,
probably established by aristocrats, which later became tituli. 46 For the first sub-period (312-
66), it is possible to identify nine buildings that Constantine and his family constructed or
founded: the Basilica Constantiniana, St Peter’s, the first church of St Paul and some six
circiform funerary basilicas.47 The Liber Pontificalis attributes the foundation of three tituli to
popes, as well as the basilica Julii, the basilica Liberii, and the church S. Valentini in a
cemetery on the Via Flamina. There is no extant evidence of aristocratic foundations. The
second sub-period (366-432) was rich in foundations. The emperors Theodosius I, Valentinian
II and Honorius rebuilt St Paul’s on a scale to match St Peter’s. Twelve tituli were founded.
With considerably varying degrees of certainty, I follow others in attributing four to popes, two
to aristocrats, two to clergy and one, the titulus Clementis, to ‘the collective commission of a
Christian community’.48 In addition, Pope Boniface I built an oratory in the cemetery of St
Felicity on the Via Salaria Nova.49

In the third sub-period (432-76), imperial patronage comprised the empress Eudoxia’s
involvement in the rebuilding of the titulus S. Petri in vinculis and one or more emperors’
construction of S. Stephani in celio monte (dedicated 468-83). Popes Sixtus III (432-40) and
Hilarus (461-68) were significant patrons. Sixtus finished and dedicated S. Mariae, the only
basilica to approach imperial ecclesiastical constructions in size and decoration in the fourth
and fifth centuries; he is also credited with building a basilical monastery, In catacumbas, near
S. Sebastiani on the Via Appia, and a church dedicated to St Laurence.50 Hilarus engaged in
significant building programmes at the Lateran and St Laurence’s: at the former he constructed
four oratories; at the latter a basilical monastery, a praetorium (residence), two libraries and
two baths.51 Leo I (440-61) founded a church in honour of a predecessor, Pope Cornelius, near
the cemetery of Callistus.52 Unknown patrons built or rebuilt five other tituli. Aside from these,
aristocrats founded three churches, none of which became tituli: Demetrias’s church S.
Stephani on the Via Lata (between 441 and 460), the Catholic Gothic general Valila’s

46
For the earliest tituli see J.F. Baldovin, The Urban Character of Christian Worship: The Origins,
Development, and Meaning of Stational Liturgy (Rome, 1987), p. 108.
47
M. Hellström, ‘On the Form and Function of Constantine’s Circiform Funerary Basilicas in Rome’ in
M.R. Salzman, M. Sághy and R. Lizzi Testa (eds.) Pagans and Christians in Late Antique Rome:
Conflict, Competition and Coexistence in the Fourth Century (Cambridge, 2016), pp. 291-313.
48
See Kinney, ‘Expanding the Christian Footprint’, p.70, on the titulus S. Clementis.
49
LP 44.6.
50
LP 46.3, 6-7.
51
LP 48.2-6 and 48.12.
52
LP 47.6

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transformation of the secular aula of Junius Bassus (470-79), and the magister militum
Ricimer’s construction of an Arian church on the Viminal hill (462-70).

Decoration, Alterations and Repairs 312-476

This second category of patronage, shown in Table 4.2, is potentially the most interesting but
also the most frustrating. If the pattern described by Ward-Perkins for Northern Italy had been
replicated in Rome, we might expect to identify considerable aristocratic patronage in the form
of mosaics and floors and their assumption of responsibility for repairs, but the information is
very slight.53 In the first sub-period, the Liber and the apocryphal Gesta Liberii state that Pope
Liberius decorated the tomb of St Agnes with marble panels and that ‘in his time an apse was
constructed in the fifth region’.54 For the second sub-period, we are dependent on inscriptions.
The presbyters Leopardus, Illicius and Maximus, who appear to have been responsible for
construction of the titulus Pudentis (also known as S. Pudentianae), were additionally
responsible for its decoration.55 A similar attribution can probably be made for S. Sabinae
which Peter of Illyria constructed and richly decorated.56 We have no insight into who may
have decorated the other eight tituli. Leopardus also contributed a mosaic or fresco at St
Laurence’s, while Illicius contributed an unspecified building at the catacomb of Hippolytus.57
Other presbyters, Proclinus and Ursus, constructed a chancel screen at S. Sebastiani.58 Only one
inscription reveals any aristocratic patronage between 366 and 432: the Urban Prefect
Longinianus’s gift of a baptistry, possibly at S. Anastasiae.59 However, this is a credible form
of patronage and we should not rule out that it might have been repeated elsewhere. For the
third sub-period, we are mainly dependent on the Liber, although a few extant inscriptions
reveal aristocratic donations. Most of the extant information refers to work carried out at the
major basilicas of St Peter’s and St Paul’s.

Donations of Liturgical Furnishings and Vessels 312-476

The third category, shown in Table 3, is of most interest for the churches for which no
information is available.60 Here we are almost entire dependent on the Liber. I suggest that it is
a reasonable working assumption that all, or almost all, basilicas would have had furnishings
and vessels, and probably from their foundations. A gap analysis allows for speculation on

53
Ward-Perkins, From Classical Antiquity to the Middle Ages, p. 53.
54
LP 37.7; Gesta Liberii, PL 8, 1393: ‘in eius tempore fabricata est absis in urbe Roma in regione
quinta.’ The Gesta was apocrypha produced in the Laurentian schism (498-506/7).
55
De Rossi, Musaici et saggi dei pavimenti delle chiese di Roma anteriori al secolo XV (Rome, 1899),
(pages in the volume are not numbered).
56
LP 46.8.
57
CBCR, III, p 280.
58
ILCV, I, no. 1776.
59
ICUR, II.1, p. 24, no. 19; CBCR, I, pp. 43-48, 62-63; Brandenburg, Ancient Churches of Rome, pp.
134-36.
60
For Table 4.3 see the Appendix (Tables), pp. 199-203.

124
possible donors. For the first sub-period the Liber provides very detailed information of
Constantine’s gifts to the basilica at the Lateran, St Peter’s, St Paul’s, and the Basilica in
palatio sessoriano, as well as to the basilicas S. Agnae, St Laurence’s and SS. Marcellini et
Petri.61 It only provides similar information for two of the six probable papal foundations, one
of which, the titulus Equitii, also received vessels and furnishings from Constantine.62 For the
second sub-period, it provides information for only two of the twelve tituli (those founded by
Pope Damasus and the illustrious lady Vestina). Otherwise, the authors noted Pope Boniface I’s
gifts to the oratory he constructed in the cemetery of St Felicity, and Pope Celestine’s to St
Peter’s, St Paul’s and the basilica Julii.63 For the third sub-period, the editors only provide
details of papal donations; they detail Sixtus III’s donations to S. Mariae, and his and Leo’s and
Hilarus’s gifts to the major basilicas (St Peter’s, St Paul’s and St Laurence’s) and the latter two
popes’ across-the-board gifts to the tituli (Leo’s replacement of silver services taken by the
Vandals, Hilarus’s provision of vessels for their role as liturgical stations).64

Emperors as Patrons

Looking at all three tables together, but focusing on separate classes of patrons, it is clear that
emperors were patrons throughout the period. The most significant imperial patronage, in terms
of magnitude and probable cost, is that of Constantine and his sons in the first sub-period: the
construction of St Peter’s, the Basilica Constantiniana, the basilica in palatio sessoriano, the
churches S. Agnae, SS Marcellini et Petri, other churches dedicated to St Paul and St Laurence
as well as several other circiform basilicas. The Liber presents these foundations as a model of
patronage: constructions accompanied by endowments and the provision of liturgical
furnishings.65 Subsequent sub-periods saw, as major constructions, St Paul’s and S. Stephani in
celio monte. These constructions, the basilica in palatio sessoriano and S. Stephani in celio
monte excepted, were outside the city walls. The construction of S. Stephani shows that an
imperial interest in combining patronage and the making of political statements continued up to
the end of the period.66 Lesser imperial patronage included Valentinian III’s presentation of a
gold image at St Peter’s, his construction of the confessio at St Paul’s and a 1,610lb fastigium at
the Basilica Constantiniana, the empress Eudoxia’s involvement in S.Petri in vinculis, and
Galla Placidia’s contribution to repairs at St Paul’s.67 While imperial patronage appears to have

61
LP 34.
62
LP 34.33.
63
LP 44.6, 45.2.
64
LP 46.6-7, 47.6, 48.11.
65
LP 34 (Life of Silvester).
66
Gianandrea, ‘The Artistic Patronage of Popes in the Fifth Century’, p. 252, argues that it was initiated
by Valentinian III and the empress Eudoxia and carried forward by later emperors. She suggests that it
conveyed concern for the monumental appearance of the city and competed with the papacy in the
ambitions of its artistic patronage.
67
LP 46.4-5; ICUR, II.1, p.110, no. 66 (Eudoxia); ICUR-NS, II, no. 4784 (Galla Placidia).

125
tapered down towards the end, the initial contribution was very significant, and a continuation
at the earlier rate would almost certainly have been unsustainable.

Aristocratic Patrons

The Tables seem to support Brown and Salzman’s judgements as to the timing at which the
new wave of aristocratic patrons entered the field, that is the second sub-period, but not the
level of patronage that they imply. However, I suggest that we need to recognise that the
aristocracy’s relationship with the Roman Church may have been more nuanced than
acknowledged to date. On a subject in which the evidence is very limited and it is difficult not
to bring to bear insights from a wider pool of cases, I suggest that aristocrats’ behaviour
regarding burials at major basilicas and a clutch of church constructions in Rome in the third
sub-period may provide a better perspective on aristocratic patronage in the period leading up
to 476.

Firm evidence of aristocratic patronage in the period is limited. The Tables reflect none in the
first sub-period. The critical second sub-period is notable for the construction of the twelve
tituli but only two can firmly be attributed to aristocrats (Vestina and Pammachius).68 The
information in Tables 2 and 3 is very limited: we only know of one example in each: the urban
prefect Longinianus’s gift of a baptistry and Vestina’s donation of liturgical vessels. The third
sub-period is notable for constructions by Demetrias, the magister militum Ricimer, the
Catholic Goth general Valila and probable unknown aristocrats at S. Bibianae and S. Stephani
(at St Laurence’s) (Table 4.1), as well as a mosaic contributed by the prefect Marinianus and
his wife at St Peter’s and the decoration of an apse by ‘Severus and Cassia’ at S. Anastasiae
(both Table 4.2).69 Nothing is known of Severus and Cassia, but they may have been spouses
and aristocratic status is certainly possible.70 Limited as this evidence is, it almost certainly
does not reflect the full range of patronage and what we are aware of may not be as
straightforward as it appears.

Sarcophagi found at major basilicas may reflect how senatorial aristocrats sought to engage as
patrons but not in a way that resulted in church construction. J.M. Huskinson analysed some
thirty sarcophagi, eight of which were found at St Peter’s or the Vatican complex, four at St
Paul’s and seven at or around S. Sebastiani.71 He attributes most of them to the years c.360-

68
LP 42.3-5 (Vestina); ICUR, II.1, p. 150 (Pammachius).
69
ICUR-NS, II, no. 4102 (Marinianus); ICUR, II.1, p. 24, no. 25 (Severus and Cassia).
70
The nature of Severus and Cassia’s votive gift is not clear but reference in the inscription to ‘in absida’
and ‘antistes Damasus picturae ornorat honore’ has led scholars to conclude that it was the decoration of
the apse which replaced early work by Damasus. See ICUR, II.1 p.24, no. 25; Gianandrea, ‘The Artistic
patronage of the Popes in Fifth-Century Rome’, pp. 205-06.
71
J.M. Huskinson, Concordia Apostolorum, Christian Propaganda at Rome in the Fourth and Fifth
Centuries: A Study in Early Christian Iconography and Iconology, BAR International Series no. 148
(Oxford, 1982), pp. 13-31. Camerlenghi, St Paul’s Outside the Walls, pp. 36-37, has updated the

126
c.410.72 Most of the occupants are unknown but two were high-profile. Junius Bassus, who
died in office as urban prefect in 359 and was probably accorded a public funeral, was buried
under the confessio at St Peter’s.73 Petronius Probus, who died in 395, received an ostentatious
burial in the large Anician mausoleum that abutted the apse of St Peter’s.74 The mausoleum had
five statues that recorded his virtues and accomplishments, as well as those of his wife and
children. His burial chamber had a large mensa for feeding the poor on his anniversary.75 A
letter of Paulinus of Nola reveals that anniversaries were occasions of considerable expenditure
and probable patronage. Writing to the senator Pammachius, patron of the titulus SS. Iohannis
et Pauli, he described a significant feast in the courtyard of St Peter’s for the Christian poor on
the anniversary of the senator’s wife’s death.76 There is no evidence that these occasions
resulted in a recognisably material form of patronage but it would be surprising if the Church
did not benefit significantly from aristocrats’ burials and anniversary commemorations. The
location of burial and celebration at these sites shows aristocrats adapting their practice in a
Christian milieu. They may have provided an opportunity for aristocrats to celebrate their
families’ achievements, as is apparent in the case of Petronius Probus, in ways that rare public
funerals denied them.77 They may also have intended to signal to emperors that they engaged in
the project of Christianisation. I consider that these burials and celebrations show that
aristocrats took control of the new situation to service their own needs, including demonstrating
commitment to the new imperial order. I suggest that this approach is clearer in the way a
number of aristocrats approached church construction.

When aristocrats constructed churches, they did so in many cases for their own benefit and not
as patrons of the Roman Church. Two clear examples of patronage are the aristocrat Vestina’s
sponsorship of the titulus S. Vitalis and the senator Pammachius’s foundation of SS. Iohannis et
Pauli. Much less clear are three cases in the third sub-period: Demetrias’s S. Stephani in Via
Lata, S. Bibianae and Valila’s S. Andreae. I do not consider Demetrias’s foundation was part of
the Roman Church in the period; inter alia it was a dynastic funerary chapel.78 The position of
S. Bibianae is more uncertain. The Liber notes it as a basilica ad sanctos.79 It was recorded as a

information for St Paul’s: four ornate sarcophagi, dated to the mid-fourth century and in the original
Constantinian basilica, were transferred into the Theodosian one.
72
Huskinson, Concordia Apostolorum, pp. 18-24 and 26.
73
Alan Cameron, ‘The Funeral of Junius Bassus’ in Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik, Bd. 139
(2002), pp. 288-92.
74
ICUR-NS, II, no. 4219; Brown, Through the Eye of a Needle, p. 286.
75
Machado, ‘Roman aristocrats and the Christianisation of Rome’, pp. 510-12.
76
Letter 13(11), P.G. Walsh (ed.), The Letters of Paulinus of Nola, Ancient Christian Writers, no. 35,
Vol. 1 (New York, 1966), pp.127-28; Brown, Through the Eye of a Needle, pp. 233-34.
77
Cameron, ‘The Funeral of Junius Bassus’, p. 291, notes that the major role of the elite in the obsequies
of public funerals must have diminished the ability of the great families to exploit the occasions for their
own glorification.
78
I discuss this above; see pp. 114-115.
79
LP 49.1.

127
titulus in synodical subscriptions in 595 but not in 499. Brandenburg argues that Pope
Simplicius, who dedicated it, may have been the founder on the basis of a possible drawing of
its apse mosaic.80 Gianandrea, following Fiocchi Nicolai, argues that the original basilica was
inserted into a patrician’s house and as Bibiana was buried within the walls it may well have
been ‘a domestic memorial together with a funerary space’.81 We do not know the basis on
which it was given to the pope but I suggest that it is possible that it continued its funerary
function for the donor family until sometime before 595 when it became part of the Roman
Church as a titulus. A clearer example of aristocrats constructing churches for their own
purposes is Valila’s conversion of the aula of Junius Bassus.

The facts surrounding the church which Valila may have offered to the pope as a titulus convey
a strong sense of an aristocrat pursuing his own agenda in a way that questions whether it could
be considered patronage of the Roman Church. The Gothic Catholic general converted the hall
of the former residence of Junius Bassus, a praetorian prefect (318-31) and consul (331), into
the church of S. Andreae on the Esquiline in Rome. He left unaltered the hall and existing
pagan imagery but inserted an altar and an apse mosaic. For this Romanised Goth the
conversion of the hall into a church was a means of negotiating his elite identity.82 An extant
inscription implies that he transferred the legitimate title to the property to Pope Simplicius:
‘This church, as your [i.e. Simplicius’s] heir, takes possession of your lawful title (titulus
iustus)’.83 The meaning is not obvious, but Gregor Kalas suggests that Valila donated the
property in a process resembling that for tituli in Rome. However, it does not appear among
tituli listed in the records of the synods of Rome in 499 and 595. We cannot be sure why it was
not accepted as a titulus, but two reasons suggest themselves. First, given how the building was
converted and Valila’s agenda, it was unlikely to have functioned as a community church.
Second, the gift may have been hedged with conditions which the pope may have considered
too constraining to accept. Valila also donated a church in Tivoli for which the document
evidencing the gift, the Charta Cornutiana, has survived in a medieval copy. Valila insisted on
use of the property in his lifetime and took measures to ensure that his memory as the donor
would survive, thus guaranteeing his salvation. He provided for lighting, personnel and
maintenance, but claimed for himself and his descendants the right to reclaim the land if funds

80
Brandenburg, Ancient Churches of Rome, p. 215.
81
Gianandrea, ‘The Artistic patronage of Popes in the Fifth-Century Rome’, pp. 207-08.
82
G. Kalas, ‘Architecture and Elite Identity in Late Antique Rome: Appropriating the Past at
Sant’Andrea Catabarbara’, Papers of the British School at Rome, 81 (2013), pp. 279-302. R.W.
Mathisen, ‘Ricimer’s Church in Rome: How an Arian Barbarian Prospered in a Nicene World’ in A.
Cain and N. Lenski (eds.), The Power of Religion in Late Antiquity (Farnham, 2009), pp. 307-25,
similarly argues that the Arian Ricimer’s construction and decoration of a church was part of a policy of
a personal accommodation with the Italian aristocracy.
83
ILCV, I, 1785; Kalas, ‘Architecture and Elite Identity’. p. 293.

128
were diverted for purposes not specified in the charter.84 Had the same conditions applied to S.
Andreae, it is possible that the Church would not have accepted it as a functioning titulus.

These examples, aristocratic burials at the major basilicas and constructions or conversions,
point to a more qualified engagement with the Roman Church and, I suggest, lend some
support to picture that emerges from the Tables. It is possible that aristocrats were not as
significant as constructors of churches as has been assumed to date, but equally possible they
may have contributed to the Church’s income stream. I suggest it is possible that Vestina’s
construction and endowment may have been rare and was mentioned in the Liber to encourage
more of the same from the senatorial class.85 Demetrias’s church would not have been a perfect
example, but her membership of the Anician family, her wealth, her correspondence with
Jerome, and the fact that she was the recipient of Prosper’s De vera humilitate, which justified
wealth provided it was used on behalf of the Church, may explain why she was mentioned.86 A
case has been made that aristocrats were pre-disposed to give, but I question how quickly they
would have followed the emperors’ example as patrons of the Church, when their rulers had so
recently abolished the pagan priesthoods in which they had invested much and which had been
integral to their identity.87

Popes as Patrons

I consider that it is impossible to determine for the first and second two sub-periods whether the
Church’s footprint expanded in a haphazard or a strategic manner as Curran and Brandenburg
respectively argue. Of the two, I incline towards Curran’s viewpoint, although I suggest that
popes’ approach became much more strategic in the third sub-period as they directed their
patronage at four major basilicas. Table 4.1 shows in the first sub-period only popes and
emperors as patrons, a position that it is impossible to completely substantiate. The data for the
second sub-period is more complex. Of the twelve tituli constructed, only four are attributed to
popes (Damasus and Anastasius), and two of those, S. Anastasiae and Fasciolae, are
speculative.88 On the other hand, there is some reason to believe that popes were engaged in the
construction of two tituli, S. Pudentianae and S. Sabinae that are normally attributed to clergy.
The position is clearer with S. Sabinae whose foundation inscription asserts the primacy of the
Roman Church and whose mosaic features the Ecclesia ex circumcisione and the Ecclesia ex
gentibus. The inscription refers to Pope Celestine holding ‘the highest apostolic throne and

84
Kalas, ‘Architecture and Elite Identity’. p. 291.
85
LP 42.3.
86
On Demetrias, see Brown, Through the Eye of a Needle, pp. 463-64.
87
Salzman, The Making of the Christian Aristocracy, discusses the significance of pagan priesthoods to
aristocrats, pp. 61-65.
88
S. Anastasiae has been attributed to Damasus on the basis of a fifth-century inscription, ICUR, II.1, pp.
24, no. 25 and p. 150, no. 18. Fasciolae has been attributed to him on the basis of an inscription referring
to a ‘lector tituli Fasciolae’ (ICUR-NS, II, no. 4815) which is dated 377 and as such falls in his
pontificate. See Curran, Pagan City and Christian Capital, p. 145.

129
shin[ing] as the foremost bishop in the whole world’.89 The Ecclesiae represent the united
Church, possibly representing the Concordia Apostolorum.90 It has recently been plausibly
suggested that Pope Celestine was involved in its planning.91 The mosaic at S. Pudentianae also
has female figures considered to represent the two Ecclesiae, although Walter Oakshott
suggested that they may be the two sisters, SS. Pudentiana and Prassede.92 Tables 4.2 and 4.3
reveal very little other papal patronage between 313 and 432: extant evidence only
acknowledges Damasus’s activities at S. Anastasiae and at St Peter’s, and Innocent I’s at S.
Agnae, (all Table 4.2), and that Damasus, Boniface I and Celestine each provided liturgical
vessels to a church (Table 4.3).93

In so far as it is possible to discern a pattern with such limited evidence, I consider that in the
third sub-period popes directed their patronage at the major basilicas (St Peter’s, St Paul’s, St
Laurence’s and the Basilica Constantiniana) and, to a lesser extent, at the tituli, as they sought
to address the pastoral and liturgical needs of the city’s inhabitants and visitors. S. Mariae is
anomalous in this scenario except in so far as it is understood as fulfilling a central role in the
developing liturgical arrangements of the city: it became a major ‘station’ and one of the places
where the tituli’s stational vessels were kept.94 Hilarus significantly developed the sites at the
Basilica Constantiniana and at St Laurence’s.95 Most of popes’ works of decoration and
additions (work on confessiones, Sixtus III’s porphyry columns and Leo’s repair after
lightning) were undertaken at the four basilicas.96 Popes from Celestine to Simplicius
consistently provided liturgical vessels, most of which were given to the major basilicas.97 This
emphasis was reinforced by Simplicius’s arrangement for priests from different regions to take
weekly turns to administer baptism and penance at St Peter’s, St Paul’s and St Laurence’s.98
Popes’ patronage also evinced a concern for liturgical services at the tituli. Leo melted down 6
water-jars at the major basilicas to replace silver vessels taken by the Vandals from the tituli. 99
Hilarus’s provision of 1 gold scyphus, 25 silver scyphi ‘for the tituli’, 25 amae and 50 silver
service chalices is the first textual evidence of stational liturgy in the city.100

89
ICLV, I, 1778a: ‘Culmen apostolicum cum Caelestinus haberet, primus in toto fulgeret eiscopus orbe’.
90
I suggest this latter point on the basis that Peter was the apostle of the Jews, Paul of the Gentiles and
the presentation of the apostles in harmony was prevalent at this time.
91
Gianandrea, ‘The Artistic Patronage of popes in Fifth-Century Rome’, pp. 188-89.
92
W. Oakeshott, The Mosaics of Rome, from the Third to the Fourteenth Centuries (London/Greenwich,
1967), p. 65.
93
Table 4.2 (pp. 192-98): Damasus: ICUR, II.1, no. 24.25 and ICUR-NS, II, no. 4096; Innocent: LP 42.7.
Table 4.3 (pp. 199-203): LP 39.4, LP 44.6, LP 45.2.
94
LP 48.11.
95
LP 48.2-6,9-10 and 12.
96
LP 46.4-5; 47.6.
97
Table 4.3: LP 45.2, 46.6-7, 48.6-10.
98
LP 49.2.
99
LP 47.6.
100
LP 48.11.

130
Clerics as Patrons

Although Julia Hillner and others suggest that members of the Roman clergy may have been
significant patrons, the evidence is thin and the number of identified patrons is small. Where
clerics engaged in the construction of churches it is not always clear whether they were lead
patrons or project managers: in some situations where they appear to be the main patrons, there
are aspects in the arrangements which cast doubt on that position. In the first sub-period the
only evidence of clerical patronage is the apparent grant of land by the priest Equitius to Pope
Silvester for a titulus.101 The evidence for the second subperiod is richer, if still limited. Of the
twelve tituli founded or re-founded at this time, probably three can be attributed to clerics: S.
Pudentianae, S. Sabinae and, with less certainly, S. Petri in vinculis. Several inscriptions
indicate that the priests Ilicius, Maximus, Eutropius and Leopardus constructed S. Pudentianae,
while the Liber Pontificalis clearly attributes S. Sabinae to Peter, a bishop from Illyricum.102
The role of the priest Philip in founding S. Petri in vinculis is less clear. An inscription implies
that it was built or funded by the empress Eudoxia in fulfilment of a promise given by her
parents, Theodosius II and Eudocia.103 Another refers to Philip’s ‘labor …. et cura’. 104 A recent
assessment concludes that Philip, who represented Pope Celestine at the Council of Ephesus
(431), sponsored the titulus on his return and Eudoxia ‘had something to do with it’.105 Of these
clerical patrons, Leopardus, assuming he was the same person, was also a project manager of
the illustris femina Vestina’s titulus, and he restored a mosaic at St Laurence’s, while Ilicius
constructed an unspecified building at the catacomb of Hippolytus.106 Outside this group, we
are only aware that the priests Proclinus and Ursus constructed a chancel screen at S.
Sebastiani.107

As the need to interpret Philip’s position shows, where clerics engaged in the construction of
churches it is not always clear whether they were lead patrons or project managers, The priests

101
LP 34.3.
102
The inscription on apse mosaic in S. Pudentianae: ‘Fundata a Leopardo et Ilicio Valent. Aug. et
Eutropio Conss. Perfecta Honorio AUG IIII et Eutychiano Consulibus’; the inscription from the
pontificate of Siricius: ‘Salvo Siricio ecclesiae sancte et Ilicio Leopardo et Maximo (p)resb’. See De
Rossi, Musaici, (pages not numbered).
103
ILCV, I, no. 1779: ‘Theodosius pater Eudocia cum coniuge votum cumque suo supplex Eudoxia
nomine solvit’.
104
ICUR, II.1, p.110, no 67: ‘presbyteri tamen his labor et cura Philippi postquam effesi Xps vicit Effesi
XPS vicit utrique popo praemia discipulis meruit’.
105
Kinney, ‘Expanding the Christian Footprint’, p. 76.
106
LP 42.3. According to an inscription (ICUR, II.1, p.155) preserved in the Sylloge Wirciburgensis,
Leopardus restored the building, decorated its walls and apparently donated a mosaic or fresco, probably
in the apse, showing the hand of God distributing martyrs’ crowns. For IIlicius at the catacomb of
Hippolytus: ICUR-NS, VII, nos. 15762-3, quoted by Hillner, ‘Clerics, Property and Patronage’, p. 66.
107
ICLV I, 1776: ‘Temporibus Sancti Innocenti Episcopi Proclinus et Ursus Presbb Tituli Byzanti Sancto
Martyri Sebastiano ex Voto Fecerunt’.

131
Ursicius and Leopardus and the deacon Livianus, used by Pope Innocent to give effect to the
bequest of Vestina, fell in the latter category, although the language used in the Liber
(‘laborantibus presbiteris’) has an echo of the inscription narrating Philip’s role in his titulus,
his ‘labor … et cura’.108 The attribution of S. Sabinae to Peter, ‘a priest of the city and Illyrian
by birth’ appears very clear; however, the issue of possible papal involvement has already been
mentioned, and current work is also suggesting that an aristocrat family may have established
the original titulus Sabinae and consequently contributed the land as well as the name Sabina
for the fifth-century church.109 Nevertheless, as the examples infer, clerics may have been
significant patrons of some of the churches.

The purpose of examining patterns of patronage between 312 and 476 has been to establish a
base with which to consider changes after 476. The evidence for imperial patronage is
reasonably straight-forward and uncontroversial: emperors were responsible for most of the
major basilicas and even if much of their contribution was made early, it continued, with the
last major basilica, S. Stephani in celio monte, constructed at the end of the period. Below this
level much depends on the assessment of who sponsored the twelve tituli in the second sub-
period, with likely candidates being aristocrats, popes and clerics. A few can be attributed to
each class but there is uncertainty about the remainder. The third sub-period shows a pattern
beginning to emerge, with aristocrats focusing on their own interests and popes directing their
patronage at the Church’s major basilicas.

I suggest that focusing on the Church as an institution in Rome calls into question the degree to
which aristocrats were its patrons. I show their patronage was less than it may have appeared to
date, that we cannot assume that aristocrats re-directed their patronage to the Church, and that
they processed the situation in ways that suited their interests. However, their burials and
annual commemorations of the deaths of family members, may have contributed a revenue
stream to the Church. Popes and clerics were significant patrons although in the case of the
latter their role is not always clear. Popes built churches and tituli in the first two sub-periods
but in the third there was a discernible strategy of focusing on the major basilicas and, to a
lesser extent, on provision of liturgical vessels to the tituli, as they organised the Church to
respond to the pastoral needs of the city. Much remains to be understood about clerical
patronage, including how it interacted with that of the popes, but it cannot be ruled out that
some of clerics were persons of some wealth as the tituli S. Pudentianae and S. Sabinae attest,

108
LP 42.3. In another example, Tigrinus may have been the project manager for Demetrias’s church.
However, all we know with some certainty is that he served in the hall at Leo’s command (‘praesulis
hanc iussu Tigrinis presbyter aulum … excolit’), ICUR, I, no. 1765.
109
M. Maskarinec, City of Saints: Rebuilding Rome in the Early Middle Ages (Philadelphia, 2018), pp.
101-06.

132
and in the period before 476 they may have been more significant patrons than the extant
evidence allows us to capture. I now turn to the period after 476 which saw a collapse in
imperial patronage, even more limited aristocratic sponsorship, almost no evidence of clerical
patronage and the emergence of popes as the main patrons.

Section 2: Patronage of the Roman Church after 476

After 476, following the end of western emperors, the patronage landscape changed
significantly and the Church of Rome was transformed. Popes became the main patrons as
secular rulers and aristocrats ceased to be major contributors and the clergy’s relationship with
the Church altered. They continued the trend established in the years 432-76 of directing their
patronage at the major basilicas, but they also focused on cemeterial basilicas and cemeteries.
Popes introduced a new form of patronage, new saint-cults which leveraged the same type of
prestige as church constructions and, in some cases, were intimately connected with them but, I
argue, they were a separate phenomenon. The clergy ceased to be visible as a class of patron as
the intra-Church financial arrangements changed, and payment for position or office became a
feature, although it was contested and it was probably not universally adopted. In this section I
address the position of secular rulers, aristocrats and clergy as patrons before demonstrating
how the Roman Church was transformed as popes became the main patrons.

Secular Rulers as Patrons after 476

Imperial patronage of the Roman Church in the forms under consideration in this chapter
ceased in 476. There is no information to suggest that Odoacer, the ruler of central and northern
Italy was a patron of the Roman Church. I show that Arian Ostrogothic rulers, if they donated,
did so in a limited way. The sources for evidence of Ostrogothic patronage are limited and
difficult: the Liber Pontificalis only makes mention of two silver candlesticks given by
Theoderic the Great to St Peter.110 Otherwise, for his reign, we have to rely on tiles with brick-
stamps, which imply that he sponsored the repair of multiple churches in Rome. However, this
may be an inference too far. Eastern emperors were significant patrons neither before, nor after
Justinian’s reconquest. While after 554, the new Byzantine administration built churches in the
city, these did not become part of the Church of Rome in the sixth century and, arguably, were
set up in competition.

Theoderic, king for most of the Ostrogothic period, was a patron in the imperial mould but, I
argue, his contribution to the Church was limited by his Arianism and by his particular

110
LP 54.10.

133
tendency to subcontract patronage in Rome. Although the Anonymous Valesianus states that
Theoderic approached the tomb of St Peter ‘as if a Catholic’, he is only known to have built
and decorated Arian churches in northern cities, and especially in Ravenna.111 The Temple of
Romulus in the Forum Romanum, which became the basilica SS. Cosmae et Damianis, is the
one building that the Ostrogoths are known to have given to the Roman Church, and it was
given by his successors, Athalaric and Amalasuntha. Nevertheless, the repair, preservation and
renovation of monuments in Rome were a component of Theoderic’s patronage; they had the
added value of linking him to an idealised imperial past, with which he wished to connect.112
We cannot, therefore, preclude the notion that he repaired churches in Rome that he considered
part of the Roman heritage. However, assessment of any patronage is complicated by his
willingness to work through Rome-based senatorial aristocrats and to allow them to take any
credit.113

Tiles with Theoderic’s brick-stamps have been found in fifteen churches in Rome, including St
Peter’s, S. Mariae, four tituli, S. Agnae, St Paul’s and the basilica in palatio sessoriano.114
However, it is not clear that these amount to evidence of his patronage of these churches.
Richard Westall argues for the king’s direct involvement; he points to numerous roof-tiles
bearing brick-stamps with Theoderic’s name and titles which, he suggests, imply works that the
Liber would have recorded if a pope had sponsored them.115 Against this, Cristina La Rocca, on
the basis of an analysis of Cassiodorus’ Variae, argues that the king left construction in Rome
to aristocratic competition, and the letters make no mention of competing building by popes.116
Mark Johnson suggests the tiles may have been bought by different patrons from the portus
Licini, a facility that the king repaired to supply 25,000 tiles annually.117 As yet the position is
unresolved. I incline to the view that Theoderic may have funded repairs to churches with
imperial associations but his patronage was otherwise limited. The authors of the Liber may
have had reasons to downplay Ostrogothic patronage, but the Amals were Arian, and beyond
the need to legitimise their position by taking on the responsibility to renovate the city of

111
Anonymi Valesiani pars posterior (Excerpta Valesiana) in J.C. Rolfe (trans.), Ammianus Marcellinus,
Loeb Classical Library (London, 1939), vol. 3, para. 65, pp. 549-50; J.J. Arnold, Theoderic and the
Roman Imperial Restoration (Cambridge, 2014), pp. 198-200.
112
Arnold, Theoderic and the Roman Imperial Restoration, pp. 198 and 224.
113
Arnold shows how Theoderic distributed ‘secret royal largesse to fund ostensible aristocratic
evergetism — Theoderic and the Roman Imperial Restoration, pp.224-28.
114
R. Westall, ‘Theoderic Patron of the Churches of Rome?’, Acta ad archaeologiam et atrium historiam
pertinentia, 27 (2014), pp.119-38. The tituli were SS. Iohannis et Pauli, S. Priscae, S. Prassedis, and S.
Silvestri.
115
Westall, ‘Theoderic Patron of the Churches of Rome?’, p. 127.
116
C. La Rocca, ‘An Arena of Abuses and Competing Powers’ in R. Balzaretti, J. Barrow and P. Skinner
(eds.), Italy and Early Medieval Europe: Papers for Chris Wickham, The Past and Present Book Series
(Oxford, 2018), pp. 201-12.
117
Cassiodorus, Selected Variae, trans. S.J.B. Barnish, Translated Texts for Historians, no. 12
(Liverpool, 1992), 1.25.2, p.18; M.J. Johnson, ‘Art and Architecture’ in Arnold, Bjornlie and Sessa
(eds.), A Companion to Ostrogothic Italy, p. 357 and n. 20.

134
Rome, the requirement to patronise the Church is not clear. Also, if Theoderic mediated his
patronage through the senatorial aristocracy, it would have been filtered through the self-
interest of aristocrats, which would not necessarily have coincided with the interests of the
Church.

I argue that eastern emperors made very little attempt to patronise the Roman Church in the
period, a position unaffected by Justinian’s reconquest of Rome and Italy; I suggest that after
554 they were more inclined to become competitors. Contact between the Roman Church and
eastern emperors was, in any case, limited during the Acacian schism (484-519); after normal
relations resumed in 519, emperors were parsimonious. As shown in the Tables, the Liber
Pontificalis records limited patronage from the eastern capital. In the pontificates of Hormisdas
(514-23) and John I (523-25), Justin gave gospels with gold covers and precious jewels as well
as ministerial vessels.118 Justinian sent John II (533-35) a gold scyphus, 4 silver chalices, silver
scyphi, and 4 purple-dyed gold-worked pallia.119 These gifts would have been significant as
diplomatic exchanges but, I suggest, quite limited in comparison with patronage previously
delivered by western emperors. Between 476 and 604 no emperor constructed a building in
Rome over which popes had control or which they could use; nor did any emperor sponsor
major repairs of churches. The restoration of imperial rule after 554 saw some church building,
but these constructions may have been established in competition.

After 554 the Byzantine administration founded churches in the city in the sixth century, but in
no real sense were the churches part of the Roman Church; their organisational objectives were
different and they did not come under papal control until later. Robert Coates-Stephens
attributes churches to the Byzantine administration if they were founded after 554, they are not
mentioned in the Liber Pontificalis, and they were dedicated either to Mary or to soldier-
saints.120 His presentation of the position is persuasive. Five foundations dedicated to Mary and
three to soldier-saints were started in later sixth century.121 Dedications to Mary were a feature
of Byzantine policy after the conquest.122 Soldier-saints had typically opposed pagans, so apart
from their natural appeal to the Byzantine military, their dedications were probably also
intended to be an assertion of the Byzantine state’s orthodoxy.123 Some of these foundations

118
LP 54. 10 and 55.7.
119
LP 58.2.
120
Coates-Stephens, ‘Byzantine Building Patronage’, pp. 149 and 155.
121
The ‘Theotokos foundations’ were S. Mariae Antiquae, S. Mariae in Domnica, S. Mariae in Aquiro,
S. Mariae in Cosmedin and S. Mariae in Via Lata. Dedications to soldier-saints included the Oratory of
the 40 Martyrs, S. Theodori, SS. Sergii et Bacchi. For which see Coates-Stephens, ‘Byzantine Building
Patronage’ pp. 154-64, and J. Moralee, Rome’s Holy Mountain (Oxford, 2018), pp. 87-92.
122
Coates-Stephens, ‘Byzantine Building Patronage’, p. 158.
123
Theodore Tiron, the Forty Martyrs of Sebaste and Sergius and Bacchus refused to sacrifice to the
gods. See C. Walter, The Warrior Saints in Byzantine Art and Tradition (Abingdon, 2003), pp. 45 and
146 and Maskarinec, City of Saints, pp. 42-46. A possible exception to this uniform picture is
Krautheimer’s suggestion in Rome: Profile of a City, p. 70, that Narses funded SS. Iacobi et Philippi.
However, I am not aware that this had been strongly argued or pursued by anyone else.

135
may have started to function as diaconiae (food distribution centres) in the sixth century
although the strong evidence for this is seventh century or later. Diaconiae were a new
phenomenon in the city, which potentially challenged the Church. If Brown is correct in his
view that from the mid-fifth century popes were reaching out to the poor of Rome in a way that
offered food to all in need, diaconiae would have offered a similar provision, and arguably in
competition.124 Popes may have dedicated these churches or centres but they did not control
them.125 No priest from them is known to have attended the synod of Rome of 595, a main
indicator of constituent churches at the end of the century. Santa Maria Antiqua, the most
notable of the churches, was probably not brought under the papal control before the second
half of the seventh.126 In setting up these churches, Justinian and his successors not only
withheld patronage from the Roman Church but also set up an alternative, if smaller,
organisation.

Aristocrats as Patrons after 476

The surviving evidence suggests very little aristocratic patronage of the Roman Church after
476. We should not be too surprised for the period after 536, as the Gothic Wars caused the
senatorial aristocracy to leave the city permanently in significant numbers. However, the
pattern is apparent before that date. Clearly there may be significant evidential lacunae and the
example from the Laurentian Fragment, which I discuss below, is a reminder of the Liber’s
intermittent unreliability. However, I suggest that evidence reflected in the Tables 4.1-4.3
broadly matches what is known of the Church-aristocracy relationship. I argue that the period
sees a developing mutual detachment, with aristocrats continuing the pre-476 trend of building
private and estate churches, and the Church seeking to exclude lay influence as it repositioned
itself.

Tables 4.1-3 show very little evidence of aristocratic patronage after 476. Tables 4.2 and 3
capture none. Table 4.1 suggests a few aristocratic church buildings but most of these were
outside Rome and none are dated to later than 514. On the basis that where the Liber
Pontificalis records a papal dedication, the patron responsible for construction was probably an
aristocrat, we may assume three such churches in the pontificate of Gelasius I (492-96). All
Gelasius’s dedications (S. Euphemiae, SS. Nicandri, Eleutheri et Andreae, and S. Mariae) were
established some distance from Rome (two were 20 miles away) which implies they were estate
or town churches, probably controlled by aristocrats.127 This is clearly the case with the church
that the illustrious praetorian prefect Albinus and his wife Glaphyra financed and built and

124
Brown, Through the Eye of a Needle, Chapter 27, especially pp. 462-63.
125
Coates-Stephens, ‘Byzantine Building Patronage’, p. 164.
126
See CBCR, III, p. 267.
127
LP 51.5.

136
which Pope Symmachus (498-514) dedicated. 128 A probable counter-example of aristocratic
patronage in Rome appears in the Laurentian Fragment, a document compiled shortly after 514.
It states that Symmachus built and decorated the church of S. Martini close to S. Silvestri with
money from the illustrious Palatinus and, at the latter’s request, dedicated it, whereas the Liber
claims that the pope constructed the basilica SS. Silvestri et Martini from its foundations
(fundamento a construxit).129 As the archaeological evidence supports the idea of two buildings
and the pre-existing structure was S. Silvestri, (formerly the titulus Equitii), the information in
the Fragment seems more reliable. 130

The focus of the aristocracy on their own churches was, I argue, accompanied by the Roman
Church’s attempt to exclude lay, that is aristocratic, influence in the Church. Much ink has been
spilled discussing aristocrats’ relationship with the Roman Church, particularly in regard to the
Laurentian schism. However, I consider the issue of the scriptura in 483 and its reversal in 502
is very instructive. At the request of Pope Simplicius, who was concerned about the election
that would follow his death, the praetorian prefect Basilius decreed that to preserve the peace
(concordia) of the church, and to avoid putting into question the condition of the state by
sedition, a papal election could not be announced without consultation (sine nostra
consultatione).131 He also declared in the scriptura that any attempt to alienate church property
would be void, and subject to anathema.132 This latter measure may have targeted candidates’
expected behaviour in the anticipated election, or it may have been driven by aristocrats’
concerns as to how the Church used donations that they or their families had been given for the
benefit of their own souls.

The synod held in Rome in 502, during the first phase of the Laurentian schism, showed a very
clear desire to exclude aristocratic influence. It declared that the scriptura’s attempt to overlook
and disempower religious people who had the greatest duty to elect a pontiff was manifestly
against the canons.133 Further, the scriptura could not bind the pope as only he, and not any
layman, could make decisions in the Church.134 The synod rejected the right of any layman to

128
LP. 53.10.
129
The Laurentian Fragment, Le Liber Pontificalis, 52.15. p. 46; LP 53.9.
130
LP. 53.9. The Laurentian Fragment, 52, Le Liber Pontificalis, p. 46: ‘Hic beati Martini ecclesiam
iuxta sanctam Silvestram Palatini inlustris viri pecuniis fabricans et exornans, eo ipso instante dedicavit’;
translation by Davis, The Book of the Pontiffs, Appendix 52.15, p. 97; CBCR, III, pp. 121-23.
131
Acta Synhodorum Habitarum Romae, DII, para 4, p. 445, quoted in Chapter 2, p. 56, n. 161.
132
Acta Synhodorum Habitarum Romae, DII, para 5, p. 446: ‘si quis vero eorum earum rerum aliquam
sub quocumque titulo atque commento alienare voluerit, inefficax atque inritum iudicetur sitque facienti
vel consentienti accipientique anathema’.
133
This is reflected in the unchallenged view of Bishop Cresconius of Tudertina, Acta Synhodorum
Habitarum Romae DII, para. 5, p. 445: ‘Hic perpendat sancta synhodus, ut praetermissas personas
religiosas, quibis maxime cura est de creando pontifice, in suam redegerint potestatem, quod contra
canones esse manifestum est’.
134
Acta Synhodorum Habitarum Romae, DII, para. 8, p. 447: Bishop Laurentius of Milan: ‘Ista scriptura
nullum Romanae civitatis potuit obligare pontificem, quia non licuit laico statuendi in ecclesia praeter
papam Romanum habere aliquam potestatem’.

137
declare anathema or to issue decrees in the Church.135 On the alienation of church property that
the scriptura also prohibited, the synod confirmed statements against lay involvement ‘lest in
the example of presumption it remains [open] to any layman, however religious or powerful, in
whatever city, in whatever way, to determine anything concerning church wealth (facultatibus),
whose care, it is pointed out, has been entrusted by Gods to priests alone.’136 Collectively these
decisions in the synod of 502 represent a strong rejection of aristocratic involvement.

Michele Salzman has recently argued that the scriptura is an indicator of significant aristocratic
involvement in the Roman Church after 476, and that this engagement is further reflected in
popes’ subsequent use of aristocrats to manage the Church’s relations with third parties.137 I
disagree on both points. First, I consider that the scriptura should be seen in the context of
imperial action after the double election of Boniface I and Eulalius in 418/19. The situations
pertaining in 418-20 and 483 were very similar. In both cases a sick pope asked the secular
authority for help in avoiding conflict in an anticipated episcopal election. In 420 the emperor
Honorius, at the request of Boniface I, banned election campaigning and decreed that if two
candidates were elected, both should be disqualified.138 In 483 Simplicius was ill and aware of
candidates on manoeuvres. As there was no western emperor, he called on Basilius, praetorian
prefect and deputy for Odoacer, the effective king of Italy (agens etiam vices praecellentissimi
regis Odovacris).139 Basilius exercised the role that Honorius had carried out before him.
Second, after 494 popes choose clerics, not aristocrats, to represent the Church’s positions on
important occasions. In Table 4.4, I detail Church-aristocrat interaction between 476 and
536.140 In the early stages of the Acacian schism popes may have used the services of senators
such as Andromachus and Flavius Anicius Probus Festus Niger, particularly as they were in
Constantinople on other business. However, when it came to settlement of the schism,
Hormisdas’s embassies comprised Italian bishops and members of the Roman Church. Popes
John I and Agapetus were accompanied by aristocrats on their missions to Constantinople in
525 and 536 but these were driven by the Ostrogoths relations with the emperor, they were not
essentially ecclesiastical missions.

135
Acta Synhodorum Habitarum Romae, DII, para. 6, p. 446. The synod replied ‘Non licuit’ to Bishop
Maximus of Blerana’s questions: ‘[si] licuit laico homini anathema in ordine ecclesiastico dictare aut si
potuit laicus sacerdoti dicere et contra canones quod ei non competebat constituere? dicite: vobis quid
videtur? de me licuit laico legem dare?’
136
Acta Synhodorum Habitarum Romae, DII, para, 11, p. 448: ‘ne in exemplum remaneret praesumendi
quibuslibet laicis quamvis religiosis vel potentibus in quacumque civitate quolibet modo aliquid
decernere de ecclesiasticis facultatibus, quarum solis sacerdotibus diponendi indiscusse a deo cura
commissa docetur’.
137
Salzman, ‘Lay Aristocrats and Ecclesiastical Politics’, pp. 465-89.
138
Dunn, ‘Imperial Intervention in the Disputed Roman Episcopal Election’, pp.1-13; Coleman-Norton,
Roman State and Christian Church, 2, p. 611.
139
Acta Synhodorum Habitarum Romae, DII, para. 4, p. 445.
140
For Table 4.4, see the Appendix (Tables), pp. 204-05.

138
Table 4.4 also suggests that some aristocrats were not indifferent to the Church and the
direction it took but, I consider, this cannot be taken to imply a wish to control or patronise the
Church. Pope Symmachus met with nobles, including Boethius, and clergy in 512 to discuss a
letter from eastern bishops about the Acacian schism.141 Pope John II wrote in 534 to eleven
senators to explain why he had accepted the theopaschite formula. However, the senators were
members of the senate in Constantinople. I suggest there is no evidence to suggest that this
translated into attempts to control the Church; nor are these contacts in any way indicators of
patronage. 142

The Clergy as Patrons after 476

The clergy became almost invisible as patrons between 476 and 604 as their relationship with
the Church and bishop changed fundamentally. While some clerics may have continued to
patronise the Church, to which the letters of Gregory I attest, I suggest that we see two
phenomena that may have radically altered how clerics perceived and interacted with their
institution. First, a new financial arrangement within the Church appears to have been entered
into in c.475, probably as a result of the collapse of support from western emperors. Second,
there are signs that the papal administration adopted the practice of payment for office, copying
either the imperial bureaucracy or the eastern episcopate. Both phenomena point to a very
different relationship and give an idea of how the Church may have developed in the sixth
century.

I argue that the quadripartitum, a financial arrangement which divided the revenues of the
Church equally between the bishop, the clergy, provision for the poor and pilgrims and
maintenance of buildings, transformed the relationship of clergy and Church. The earliest
knowledge we have of this arrangement is a letter of Pope Simplicius, sent in November 475.143
A.H.M. Jones considered that what he called ‘the dividend’ could be traced back to the third
century in the West, but almost all the information we have is post 475, which, I suggest, points
to its new-found relevance.144 We know that Gelasius I (492-96), Felix IV (526-30) and
Gregory I (590-604) also promoted the formula.145 A letter of Felix IV, who had been asked to

141
Discussed in Boethius’ Tractate no. 5, in The Theological Tractates with an English Translation,
trans. H.F. Stewart and E.K. Rand, The Loeb Classical Library (Cambridge MA, 1918).
142
Boethius, Theological Tractates, no. 5, p. 72, mentioned by Richards, The Popes and the Papacy,
p.109; John II, Ep. 2, PL 66, cols. 0011-0026; Grillmeier, The Church of Constantinople in the Sixth
Century (London, 1995), pp. 340-41.
143
Simplicius, Ep, 1.2, Epistolae Romanorum Pontificum, p. 176: ‘Simul etiam de reditibus ecclesiae vel
oblatione fidelium quid deceat nescienti, nihil licere permittat, sed sola ei ex his quarta portio remittitur.
Duae ecclesiasticis fabricis et erogationi peregrinorum et pauperum profuturae, a Bonagro presbytero sub
periculo sui ordinis ministrentur; ultinam inter se clerici pro singulorum meritis dividant’.
144
A.H.M. Jones, ‘Church Finance in the Fifth and Sixth Centuries’, Journal of Theological Studies,
11(1) (1960), pp. 84-94. Most of Jones’s examples are after 475.
145
Gelasius I, Epp, 16 and 17, Epistolae Romanorum Pontificum, pp.380-82; Felix IV, Constitutum de
Ecclesia Ravennatensi, PL 65, cols. 0012-0016; The Letters of Gregory the Great, trans. with

139
rule on a dispute between Bishop Ecclesius of Ravenna and his clergy, gives an insight into
how the formula may have operated in practice. Felix ruled that a quarter of the entire
patrimony of Ravenna, so 3,000 solidi, should be paid to the clergy; that increases in pensions
and inheritances were to be dealt with in the same way; that the clergy were to account to the
bishop for acquisitions of property and family money; that auditors of the system were to be
recruited from the clergy and notaries should keep the underlying documents and inventories.146
Felix’s letter shows a comprehensive system in place in Ravenna, and I suggest that we may
assume similar comprehensiveness, in Rome, although not necessarily with exactly the same
rules.

We do not know if Felix gave judgement on the basis of the system that operated in Rome. If
he did, the Roman clergy would have had a share in the income of the ‘patrimonies of St Peter’.
We do not know for certain how much income they generated but had the clergy received a
dividend from them, their positions would have been lucrative. What we can reasonably
assume is that clerics received an income and that one target of possible clerical patronage, the
maintenance and repair of building, was now provided for differently; that need was likely to
have been met by the quarter allocated to buildings (ecclesiasticis fabricis). Whatever the
extent of the quadripartitum, it gave them a financial interest in the Roman Church and,
although this is impossible to evaluate, this may have assisted in promoting a sense of unity and
engagement in the institution.

Whether or not the quadripartitum made a significant difference to clerics’ relationship with
the Church, we see much less patronage from them, although they may have continued to
contribute on a scale that did not attract the attention of the editors of the Liber Pontificalis. In
the Tables, I only record the priest Mercurius (later Pope John II)’s gift of an altar and ciborium
to the titulus S. Clementis.147 Apart from this, one of Gregory I’s letters mentions a priest who
left a property and income to fund a community of monks in Rome but which Gregory
converted into a convent for nuns; another letter mentions a deacon who left unspecified
property to the ‘holy Roman Church’.148 However, it is difficult to see how these last two
bequests contributed to the institution of the Church, as I define it; they appear to be well under
the radar of the authors of the Liber Pontificalis.

A second feature which, I suggest, may have significantly altered clergy-Church relations and
may have led to a reduction in clerical patronage was a developing practice among the clergy to

Introduction and Notes by J.R.C. Martyn, Medieval Sources in Translation, no. 40, 3 vols. (Toronto,
2004), 4.11, 13.45.
146
Constitutum de Ecclesia Ravennatensi, trans. D.M. Deliyannis in Agnellus of Ravenna, The Book of
the Pontiffs of the Church of Ravenna (Washington, 2004), pp. 172-77.
147
LTUR, I, 278.
148
The Letters of Gregory the Great, 9.138, 9.8.

140
follow the eastern ecclesiastical and imperial administrative example of paying for positions.
This development had two aspects: popes (and bishops) paying consecration fees and clergy
paying for their positions. Payment for office was standard procedure in the imperial
bureaucracy.149 Consecration fees for bishops and clergy were also increasingly common in the
East from the late fourth century onwards.150 The Church condemned the practice in the
ecclesiastical setting as simony, and had done so most recently at the Council of Chalcedon
(451).151 However, it was to be given a level of official approval by Justinian, who in 546 ruled
on consecration fees, the amounts that candidates had to pay to ordaining prelate and their
assistants. He declared that these payments should not be regarded as purchases but as
donations.152 For the bishop of Rome this amounted to 1,440 solidi or 20 pounds of gold.153

The amount that Pope Symmachus, or for that matter any of the other popes, paid in
consecration fees is unknown but the Cononian epitome of the Liber Pontificalis reports that
Symmachus tripled the priests’ gift (donum presbyterii).154 I suggest that papal elections
provided opportunities for enrichment of the clergy which would explain why some popes
sought to nominate their successors, and why those attempts were fiercely resisted by the
clergy. The issues of nominations and payments arose in connection with the elections of 530
and 533.155 Athalaric issued an edict in 533, which confirmed a senatus consultum of 530,
outlining measures against malpractice, especially bribery, in contested episcopal elections. It
imposed limits of 500 solidi on the amount that could be given to the poor, and 3,000 solidi that
could be paid to the king’s officials on the submission of documents.156 However, the problem
did not go away. When Vigilius became a viable candidate in 537, he arrived in Rome with a
promise of 700 pounds of gold from the empress Theodora to assist his election.157

There are indications in places that the practice of paying for office, including clerical
positions, established deep roots in the sixth century. The Laurentian Fragment accused
Symmachus of selling ordinations, a view supported by the high number noted in the Liber
Pontificalis: he ordained 92 priests and 16 deacons over 16 years, when at any one time Rome
had formal positions for only seven deacons, and Symmachus’s three predecessors had

149
See Kelly, Ruling the Later Roman Empire, p. 66.
150
S.R. Huebner, ‘Currencies of Power: The Venality of Offices in the Later Roman Empire’ in Cain and
Lenski (eds.), The Power of Religion in Late Antiquity, pp. 174-77.
151
Canon 2 of the Council, Price and Gaddis, Acts of the Council of Chalcedon, vol. 3, p. 94. Also,
Davis, The First Seven Ecumenical Councils, p.189.
152
Justinian, Novella 123.16 (a.546), quoted by Huebner, ‘Currencies of Power’, p. 176.
153
Justinian, Novella 123.3, 123.16 (a.546), quoted by Huebner, ‘Currencies of Power’, p. 176.
154
The Cononian Epitome, 53, Le Liber Pontificalis, p.98: ‘ampliavit clero et donum presbyterii
triplicavit’.
155
In 530 Felix IV designated Boniface who succeeded after a disputed election; between 530 and 532,
Boniface unsuccessfully nominated Vigilius.
156
Cassiodorus, Variae, IX, 15, PL 69, cols. 0778-0781.
157
Liberatus, Breviarum, 22, PL 68, col. 1039, quoted by Moorhead, Popes and the Church of Rome, pp.
80 and 98, n. 59.

141
ordained 70 priests and 7 deacons in 15 years.158 Pelagius I (556-61) thought it necessary to
make a statement against simony at the ceremony in which he purged himself of responsibility
for his predecessor’s death.159 His epitaph declared that although he ordained many ministers,
he did not do so for money.160

The depth of the practice can, I suggest, be seen in Gregory I’s attempts to eradicate simony
and the subsequent reaction to his pontificate after his death. Gregory conducted a four-year
campaign (594-98) against what he considered Bishop Maximus of Salona’s simoniacal
appointment; he elicited no support from the eastern emperor on the issue.161 He also wrote in
general terms on the evils of simony to the Frankish kings Theoderic and Theodebert, and to
the bishops of Arles, Corinth, Achea and Epirus.162 Gregory’s unpopularity after his death is
attributed to his populating the papal administration with monks. Alan Thacker argues that the
brief entries in the Liber Pontificalis for the period immediately after hint at a power struggle
between monastic and clerical parties.163 I suggest that his campaigns against simony are an
additional reason. They went up against a practice that appears to have become increasingly
ingrained in the sixth century and for which there is some supporting evidence in the seventh.
According to the Liber, of Gregory’s fifteen immediate successors six left stipends to the clergy
(described in several instances as unam rogam integram), and one other felt it necessary to re-
issue the edict under anathema against canvassing while a pope was still alive.164 I consider
that these examples collectively point to a deep-rooted financial element in the relationship
between the clergy and their bishop and Church in the sixth century and later.

I suggest that the two developments point to a changed situation after 476 which explains, in
part at least, the lack of apparent clerical patronage. I consider that the quadripartitum was a
direct response to the demise of western emperors; its emergence is certainly coincidental and it
strongly suggests that there was a need to re-order the Church’s finances. If its introduction or
the emphasis on it slightly anticipated the deposition of the last western emperor, this may be
explained by the rundown that preceded the end. It appears not be a coincidence that the
information that we have about it emerges at the same time as the line of western emperors
ceases. A consequence of the quadripartitum may have been an enhancement in the financial

158
The Laurentian Fragment, 52.14, Le Liber Pontificalis, p. 46: ‘de multis rebus fama decoloravit
obscenior … necnon et de ordinibus ecclesiasticis quas palam pecuniis distrahebat’; LP 53.12;
Moorhead, Popes and the Church of Rome, p. 56.
159
LP 62.2.
160
ICUR-NS, II, no. 4155: ‘sacravit multos divina lege ministros nil pretio faciens immaculata manus’.
161
The Letters of Gregory the Great, 4.20, 5.6, 5.39, 5.63, 6.3, 6.25, 6.26, 8.24 and 8.36.
162
The Letters of Gregory the Great, 5.59, 5.62, 5.63, 6.7, 11.47 and 11.50.
163
A. Thacker, ‘Memorialising Gregory the Great: the origin and transmission of a papal cult in the
seventh and early seventh centuries’, Early Medieval Europe, 1(1) (1998), p. 71.
164
LP 70.4 (Deusdedit, 615-18), 71.3 (Boniface IV, 619-25), 73.5 (Severinus, 640), 74.3 (John IV, 640-
42), 77.1 (Eugene, 654-57), 79.1 (Adeodatus, 672-76). Boniface III (607), LP 68.2, issued the decree
against canvassing.

142
value of positions in the Church. I suggest we should not underestimate the clergy’s propensity
to follow imperial bureaucratic practice as emulation would probably have provided an
isomorphic legitimacy to the papal administration in the environment that prevailed after 476. It
is noticeable that the titles primicerius and secundicerius notariorum, taken from the imperial
bureaucracy, start to appear in the first half of the sixth century.165 There is sufficient evidence
to infer that the practice of making payments of assuming office or position was also followed.
These factors hint at a change in the relationship between clerics and the Church that may have
resulted in a considerable reduction in their role as patrons.

Papal Patronage 476-604

After 476, popes emerge as main patrons of the Roman Church with their patronage largely,
but not completely directed towards their main pastoral and liturgical centres. In almost all
respects the pontificate of Symmachus was exceptional. Leaving him to one side, church
construction, and other patronage, was quite limited, probably driven by reduced resources.
Four or five churches may have been built for reasons of prestige, but otherwise patronage was
overwhelmingly directed at major basilicas, cemeterial basilicas and cemeteries. The main
basilicas were important as cult sites, liturgical stations and burial places. Some cemeteries
were stations as well as burial grounds. I consider that this pastoral and liturgical focus was
supplemented by a new form of papal patronage, the introduction of new saint-cults and the
development of existing ones. This new form had aspects in common with church
construction, with which at times it was intimately connected.

Table 4.1 records the constructions of relatively few churches by popes between 476 and 604,
although Symmachus’s pontificate was exceptional, if the account in the Liber can be accepted.
He was credited with eight churches and oratories, whereas Pelagius II constructed two and the
other bishops built one or none. At St Peter’s Symmachus built the rotunda of St Andrew with
seven altars, three oratories at the basilica’s font with the same names as Hilarus’s oratories at
the Lateran (S. Crucis, Iohannis Evangelistae and Iohannis Baptistae), as he attempted the
replicate the latter during the Laurentian schism, when St Peter’s was the only church he
controlled. 166 In addition, the Liber credits him with building the basilicas S. Agathae (10 miles
outside Rome), S. Pancratii (in the cemetery of Calipodius), and S. Martini, and an oratory
dedicated to SS. Cosmae et Damianis near S. Mariae.167 Of the remaining builders, Felix III,
Gelasius and Anastasius II (483-98) between them only added one church, the cemeterial

165
Dionysius Exiguus, PL 67, col. 0023B, addressed a letter to Bonifacius primicerius notariorum and
Bonus secundarius in 526. Gregory I announced the appointment of the primicerius of defenders in his
letter to Boniface, the first holder of the position in March 598, The Letters of Gregory the Great, 8.16.
166
LP 53.6-7 and 53.10. Also, Moorhead, Popes and the Church of Rome, pp. 59-60.
167
LP 53.8-9

143
basilica S. Agapiti near St Laurence’s, to the papal portfolio of properties.168 Hormidas (514-
23)’s church in Albanum (modern Albano, 16 miles from Rome) may have been a private
project as it has no known connection with the Roman Church.169 Felix IV (526-30) converted
the Temple of Romulus into the church SS. Cosmae et Damianis.170 On the basis of a sixteenth-
century inscription that records that Pope Vigilius (537-55) consecrated SS. Cyrici et Julitae,
most historians attribute the foundation to him.171 Pelagius I (556-61) started and John III (561-
74) completed the church SS. Philippi et Iacobi.172 Pelagius II (579-90) constructed the basilica
ad corpus over the remains of St Laurence on the Via Tiburtina and transformed S. Ermetis, a
cemeterial basilica in the catacombs of St Basilla on the Via Salaria Vetus.173 Gregory I (590-
604) consecrated the magister militum Ricimer’s fifth-century Arian church and dedicated it to
St Agatha.174

Patronage on alterations, decoration and liturgical vessels (Tables 4.2 and 4.3) appears to have
been overwhelmingly distributed to the major basilicas, cemeterial basilicas and cemeteries.
Anastasius II (496-98) contributed a silver confessio at St Laurence’s. Symmachus provided
accommodation for the poor (pauperibus habitacula) at all three major basilicas. He renewed
the apse, constructed a matroneum, steps, a fountain and a bath at St Paul’s; he also improved
the cemetery of the Jordani and repaired the church S. Felicitatis in the cemetery of
Maximus.175 Hormisdas provided a silver encased beam at St Peter’s and presented one silver
chandelier and 16 silver chalices to the Basilica Constantiniana. John I (523-26) sponsored
work on St Peter’s atrium, and rebuilt (refecit) the cemetery of SS. Nereus and Achilleus, as
well as renovating those of SS. Felix and Adauctus (Via Ardeatina), and of Priscilla (Via
Salaria). Felix IV reconstructed the church S. Saturnini in the cemetery of Traso after a fire.
There is a considerable gap between Boniface II and Benedict I (530-79) when popes appear to
contribute very little. The Liber only records Pelagius I’s replacement of gold and silver vessels
and pallia in all the churches (omnes ecclesias), and John III’s restoration of cemeteries. From
inscriptions we additionally know that John II provided a Proconnesian chancel screen to the
titulus in which he formerly served and that Pelagius I carried out work on an altar (in altare) at
St Peter’s. Mention of papal patronage in the Liber reappears with Pelagius II (579-90)’s gift of
panels to cover Peter’s body, and Gregory I’s re-constructions of the confessiones at both St
Peter’s and St Paul’s. Archaeological evidence also points to work carried out at the tituli S.

168
LP 50.1.
169
LP 54.1.
170
LP 56.2; ICUR, II.1, pp. 71, 134, 152.
171
Cardinal Alessando Medici restored the church in 1584. Any original inscription is now lost. What
survives is the later inscription which refers to the consecration by Vigilius. See CBCR, IV, p. 38.
172
LP 62.3 and 63.1.
173
LP 65.2; ICUR, II.1, pp. 63, 106, 157.
174
LP 66.4.
175
LP 53.8, 53.10-11.

144
Marcelli, S. Chrysogoni and S. Marci which popes may have sponsored in the sixth century but
the precise dates are uncertain.

The notable feature of the patronage was a significant focus on major basilicas, cemeterial
basilicas and cemeteries. There are six, possibly five, churches outside this categorisation:
Symmachus’s oratory near S. Mariae, S. Martini, S. Pancratis, SS. Cosmae et Damianis, SS.
Cyrici et Julitae, and SS. Philippi et Iacobi. Of these I exclude Symmachus’s S. Agathae and
Hormisdas’s basilica in Albanum as they were some distance outside Rome. There is a possible
case for excluding S. Martini as the Laurentian Fragment claims that it was financed by the vir
illustris Palatinus. The remainder may be considered churches built for reasons of prestige.
Leaving this small group of churches aside, popes focused on major basilicas, cemeterial
basilicas and cemeteries. I suggest that major basilicas were central to pope’s concerns for three
reasons: they were the most significant cult sites and pilgrim attractions; they constituted major
stations (stationes) for liturgy; and they were situated on prestigious burial sites. Stations were
churches or places where the bishop or his representative presided over the Church’s main
liturgical celebration of the day; stational liturgy had become established in Rome by the mid-
to-late fifth century.176 Some cemeteries and cemeterial basilicas, apart from fulfilling their
basic function, were also stations.

St Peter and St Paul were the main cults in Rome with St Laurence not far behind, if not equal.
Simplicius’s provision of clergy from the regions to administer confession and baptism at their
basilicas, and Symmachus’s construction of accommodation for the poor at the three sites hint
at the volume of regular visitors. Gregory I’s alterations to the confessiones at St Peter’s and St
Paul’s were designed to give some, but not too close, access, to congregations and pilgrims.
Pelagius II’s construction of the basilica ad corpus was similarly designed to enhance access to
Laurence: the work eliminated the narrow approaches to the tomb and replaced the catacomb
galleries with larger hall, capable of holding a sizeable congregation.177 Almost by definition
these basilicas were also stations. Little formal acknowledgement has survived from the fifth
and sixth centuries that the major basilicas were stations but the Liber records Hormisdas’s gift
to St Paul’s of 6 silver scyphi for stational use. Later evidence, for instance ordines such as the
Comes of Würzburg, suggests that the major basilicas, as well as S. Mariae and the Basilica
Constantiniana, were the core of the system.178

176
Baldovin, The Urban Character of Christian Worship, p. 151.
177
CBCR, II, pp. 135 and 143.
178
Baldovin, The Urban Character of Christian Worship, pp. 125 and 153-56. Baldovin states that all
major basilicas and all but three tituli appear in the earliest lists as stations in Lent (p. 153). For Ember
Days the stations were S. Mariae, SS. Iacobi et Philippi, and St Peter’s (p. 155); for Easter Week they
were the Basilica Constantiniana, St Peter’s, St Paul’s, St Laurence’s, SS. Iacobi et Philippi and, a later
interpolation, S. Mariae ad martyres (p.156).

145
The complexes in which the three basilicas were located were major burial sites and, as such,
were important bases of operations of the bishops of Rome. Both St Peter’s and St Paul’s were
built over parts of necropolises in which the apostles were considered to be buried. Constantine
built the first church to St Laurence on imperial land close to two catacombs, those of Cyriaca
and S. Hippolytus, in the first of which Laurence was thought to have been buried. The three
basilicas offered the added attraction of burial close to an apostle or the next most venerated
saint. By the first quarter of the sixth century popes began to control these sites through
praepositi, whose prime functions were to sell burial lots, manage endowments and donations
and to provide lighting.179 They probably replaced cubicularii whom Leo I had earlier
established as wardens over the tombs of Peter and Paul.180 The first extant references to
praepositi in inscriptions are in 523 (St Peter’s), 511 (St Paul’s), and 523-6 (St Laurence’s).181
Some of the inscriptions indicate that several solidi were paid for each locus, but, as I suggest
above in relation to St Peter’s in the fifth century, the true financial benefit probably came from
the repeated fees for anniversary commemorations.182

In the sixth century at St Peter’s had ceased to be a burial site for all but a privileged few, as it
became a mausoleum for popes. Silvagni has captured only ten inscriptions for the period 476-
577, of which three recorded the deaths of aristocrats and one a subdeacon.183 However, I
suggest that the Vatican crypt and surrounding area would have had an ongoing relevance for
families already established there. St Paul’s, built to honour the apostle and to announce the
arrival of the new dynasty, also met the rising demand for Christian burial, for which Paul’s
tomb was a ‘magnet’. The interior could have accommodated approximately 6,400 burials
under the pavement and hundreds of sarcophagi above it.184 A census of dated epitaphs
suggests that St Paul’s was among the most popular burial basilicas.185 Silvani records 128
dated inscriptions for the years 476 to 551, of which 8 refer to persons of clarissimus,
spectabilis or illustris rank.186 The extant inscriptions suggest that area around St Laurence’s
attracted fewer elite depositions. Silvagni only captured two inscriptions for aristocrats and one
for a member of the equestrian order for the years 476-564 but there are seven undated ones

179
Camerlenghi, St Paul’s Outside the Walls, p. 105.
180
LP 47.8.
181
ICUR-NS, II, no. 4184 (Transmundus at St Peter’s), ICUR, I, no. 957 (Petrus at St Paul’s), and ICUR-
NS, VII, nos. 17615 and 17617 (Stephanus at St Laurence’s).
182
Both ICUR-NS, II, nos. 5172 and 5173 refer to purchases from a praepositus at St Paul’s and indicate
that solidi and tremesses were paid but there is no clear indication as to quantum.
183
ICUR-NS, II, nos. 4178-4187, but especially 4178 (Mustila, spectabilis femina), 4183 (Titianus, vir
spectabilis) and 4187 (Micinus, cancellarius illustris, or a cancellarius of an illustris).
184
Camerlenghi, St Paul’s Outside the Walls, pp. 77-78.
185
Anna Maria Nieddu, ‘L’utilizzazione funeraria del suburbio nei secoli V e VI,’ in P. Pergola, R.
Santangeli, R.S. Valenzani and R. Volpe (eds.) Suburbium: Il suburbio di Roma dalla crisi del Sistema
delle ville a Gregorio Magno, pp. 548-96; quoted by Camerlenghi, St Paul’s Outside the Walls, pp.92
and 305, n. 44. Selected cemeteries and cemeterial basilicas shared these elements but to a lesser degree.
186
ICUR-NS, II, nos. 4970-5098. Those of aristocrats are 4983, 5002 (two burials), 5030, 5032, 5040,
5092, 5093.

146
and arguably some or all refer to deaths in this period.187 While the inscriptions on their own
imply that St Laurence’s did not match St Paul’s in appeal, I suggest that the development of
the area by Sixtus III and Hilarus, the burial in the church of three of the six popes who reigned
between 417 and 468, and Pelagius II’s church over the body of Laurence show a sustained
attempt to enhance the area as a burial location.

The number of references in the Liber to popes’ renovations and improvements of cemeteries
suggests that they merit attention as part of the Church’s organisation. Very obviously, they
shared with the major basilicas the function of a burial site. A number of them were also
stations. J.F. Baldovin, on the basis of an analysis of Gregory I’s Forty Gospel Homilies,
identifies nine cemeterial basilicas that on particular dates functioned as stations and, I suggest,
it is reasonable to conclude that the practice at those or other cemeterial basilicas was regular. It
is noteworthy that of the nine stations identified, four were renovated or repaired by Gregory’s
predecessors in the sixth century, three by Symmachus and one by John I: S. Felicitatis
(Gregory’s Homily 3), S. Agnae (Homily 11), St Pancratii (Homily 27) and SS. Nerei and
Achillei (Homily 23).188 Cemeteries were also probably controlled by popes through the tituli,
in a manner that echoed the role of praepositi. Priests of the tituli S. Chrysogoni and S. Vitalis
(Vestinae) were placed in charge of S. Pancratii and S. Agnae.189 Less strong evidence points to
the clergy of S. Pudentianae, SS. Iohannis et Pauli and SS. Nerei and Achillei being responsible
for the cemeteries of S. Hippolytus, S. Sebastianus and Domitilla respectively.190 If at one time
the clergy had independent control of the cemeteries, I suggest that this would have been
eroded by papal investment. Gregory I’s replacement of the S. Chrysogoni clergy at S.
Pancratii attests to papal control.191

The pontificate of Symmachus aside, the scale of patronage suggests that resources throughout
the period were limited. Symmachus’s building programme may have impoverished the Roman
Church. Ennodius recorded that he had difficulty repaying a loan of 400 solidi from the bishop
of Milan.192 As already noted, the Laurentian Fragment accused him of selling ordinations.
Pope Agapetus (536-37) also experienced financial difficulties: he had to pawn the church plate
to finance his journey to Constantinople in 536.193 None of the constructions and alterations in

187
The absence of dates may be due to the end of the western consulship in 536 and/or the destruction of
part of the catacomb in the thirteenth-century rebuilding when the eastern part of the current church was
built.
188
Baldovin, The Urban Character of Christian Worship, p. 124.
189
LP 42.7 for S. Vitalis/S. Agnae. ICUR, I, nos. 975 and 977, c.521-25, indicate purchases of burial
places (loca) in the cemetery S. Pancratii from priests of S. Chrysogoni.
190
Prudentianae/S. Hippolitus, CBCR, III, p. 280; SS. Iohannis et Pauli/S. Sebastianus, ICUR, II.1, p. 32;
SS. Nerei and Achillei/Domitilla, CBCR, III, p. 137. Each of these is an inference drawn from
inscriptions relating to burials in the cemeteries.
191
The Letters of Gregory the Great, 4.18.
192
Ennodius, Epp. 3.10.3, 4.11.2 and 6.33.2, PL 63, cols. 57, 75, 106-7, and 112, quoted by Moorhead,
The Popes and the Church of Rome, pp. 55-56.
193
Cassiodorus, Selected Variae, XII, 20, p.173-74; Richards, The Popes and the Papacy, p.126.

147
Tables 4.1 and 4.2 suggests vast expenditures. All the churches were relatively small. Pelagius
II’s new basilica ad corpus at St Laurence’s was 30 metres long compared with the existing
Constantinian basilica maior’s 100 metres, and the fifth-century S. Mariae’s 75 metres.194 It
was, however, luxuriously decorated, ‘all the more remarkable for being built in difficult
times’.195 Three churches (SS. Cosmae et Damianis, S. Agathae Gothorum and SS. Cyrici et
Julitae) were conversions of existing buildings, and as such were likely to have involved less
expense than a new build.196 The is little evidence of the use of marble, which ‘equalled
magnificence’ and cost and mattered more than mosaics.197 We only know that Symmachus
decorated St Peter’s with marble and provided marble adornments at its fountain, that Felix IV
or a sixth-century successor installed a marble altar in S. Cosmae et Damianis, and that John II
procured a Proconnesian marble chancel screen for S. Clementis.198 As the authors of the first
edition mention Sixtus III’s, Hilarus’s and Symmachus’s use of porphyry or marble, I suggest
that their and their successors’ silence on other occasions should be taken as evidence that they
were not used. This position in Rome should be contrasted with contemporary building in
Ravenna where S. Apollinaris Nuovo, built by Theoderic, would have required 150 tonnes of
marble for the columns alone; S. Vitale (constructed 526-47), financed by the banker Julianus
Argentarius, would have needed 188 tonnes, and S. Apollinaris in Classe (constructed 534-49)
would have required similar tonnage of Proconnesian marble for its 24 columns.199 James
calculates that, in total, constructions in Ravenna in the sixth century required 1,556 tonnes of
marble.200

In summary, I suggest that there were two strands to papal patronage after 476: some church
construction attributable to a desire to engender prestige, but more related to the Church’s
pastoral and liturgical functions in the city. The two strands were not mutually exclusive but I
consider that the difference matters. Symmachus’s activities were exceptional and make it
difficult to fit him into the overall pattern. They are best explained by his need to establish his
legitimacy during and after the bruising Laurentian schism. It is important to appreciate the
major basilicas as the key centres where the Church fulfilled its responsibilities to the

194
Ward-Perkins, From Classical Antiquity to the Middle Ages, pp. 58-59.
195
Brandenburg, Ancient Churches of Rome, pp. 238-39.
196
Krautheimer, CBCR, I, p. 142, considered that Felix IV only decorated the apse with the mosaic and
added furniture; Liz James, Mosaics in the Medieval World from Late Antiquity to the Fifteenth Century
(Cambridge, 2017), p.250, suggests that he ‘preserved and increased the original precious marbles of the
original temple’. Krautheimer, CBCR, IV, p. 50, considered that SS. Cyrici et Julitae was a rare example
of a construction de novo, but Brandenburg, Ancient Churches of Rome, p. 233, mentions that
excavations of the 1930s suggest it was a sixth century conversion of a single aisled brick hall, with
modest dimensions (22 metres long and 12 wide).
197
James, Mosaics in the Medieval World, p. 108.
198
LTUR, I, 278.
199
James, Mosaics in the Medieval World p. 108; Deliyannis, Ravenna in late Antiquity, pp. 148-49 (S.
Apollinaris Nuovo), pp. 231-36 (S. Vitalis), pp. 263-64 (S. Apollinaris in Classe).
200
James, Mosaics in the Medieval World p. 108.

148
inhabitants of the city and pilgrims. Through the recipients of patronage, basilicas and
cemeteries, we get a sense of the Church’s coverage over the entire city. It produces a map that
is intelligible in terms of pastoral responsibilities, not aspirations for secular rule. There is an
overall sense of limited resources and of the institution optimising the use of its major assets. In
this environment, popes introduced a new form of patronage and it is not surprising that, in
constrained circumstances, it was not very costly and it dovetailed with an existing form,
church constructions.

New Saint-Cults: A New Form of Papal Patronage

I argue that the introduction of non-Roman saints and the development of certain Roman cults
crystallised as another form of patronage after c.476. Introductions were not entirely novel but
starting in the second half of the fifth century, a different approach was apparent, driven in
large part by what Robert Wiśniewski calls the ‘explosion’ of the phenomenon of relics.201
Historians have opined on the political aspects of this development; here I address the patronal
aspects. 202 I consider that the patronal offering had four elements: popes presenting as donors
in a way that was directly comparable to their position as constructors of church building;
popes asserting their piety and fitness as intercessors with saints; the gift of opportunities to
seek intercession; and provision of an intense religious and spiritual experience. I suggest that
popes took advantage of the increasing belief in relics and in the intercessory power of saints. I
also suggest that this approach, with the same patronage implications, was applied, in part at
least, to the existing cults of Saints Peter, Paul, Laurence and Pancras. In examining this
development, I consider Symmachus’ new cults at the basilica of St Andrew, Felix IV’s
significant insertion of the cult of Cosmas and Damian in the Forum Romanum, Pelagius II’s
construction of a new church to St Laurence on the Via Tiburtina and the development of the
existing cult of St. Pancras.

201
R. Wiśniewski, The Beginnings of the Cult of Relics (Oxford, 2019), p.2.
202
For the political aspects of new saint-cults at the Rotunda and of SS Cosmae and Damianis, see J.D.
Alchermes, ‘Petrine Politics: Pope Symmachus and the Rotunda of St Andrew at Old St Peter’s’, The
Catholic Historical Review, 81 (1995), pp. 1-40 but particularly pp. 32-35. Alchermes argues that
Symmachus’s primary goal in laying out the Rotunda was to secure relics of bishoprics whose occupants
opposed him during the Laurentian schism. Goodson, ‘Building for Bodies: The Architecture of Saint
Veneration in Early Medieval Rome’ in E. Ó Carragain and C.N. de Vegvar (eds.), Roma Felix:
Formation and Reflections of Medieval Rome, Church, Faith and Culture in the Medieval West
(Aldershot, 2007), p. 60, considers that the altars housing these relics represented ‘a web of geographical
and topographical associations’, and that the relics expressed Symmachus’s ‘network of political
allegiances. W. Meyer, ‘Antioch and the Intersection between Religious Factionalism, Place and Power
in Late Antiquity’ in Cain and Lenski (eds.), The Power of Religion in Late Antiquity, pp. 357-67,
especially p. 365, considers the cult of Cosmos and Damian can be interpreted as a statement of Rome’s
orthodoxy in opposition to the imperial position. See also, Maskarinec, City of Saints, pp. 32-37, and P.
Booth, ‘Orthodox and Heretic in the early Byzantine cult(s) of Saints Cosmos and Damian’ in P. Sarris,
M. Dal Santo and P. Booth (eds.) Age of Saints? (Leiden, 2011), pp. 114-28.

149
The fifth century saw the introduction of a few non-Roman saints, although arguably most of
these were special cases. Up until then saints venerated in Rome were overwhelming ‘Roman’,
whether by birth or by virtue of their martyrdom in the city. Pope Damasus (366-84), by
systematically placing inscriptions at many of the martyrs’ burial sites, made much of their
Roman identity. Table 4.5 details changes over the fifth and sixth centuries.203 The fifth century
saw the beginning of the introduction of new saint-cults by popes or by others in partnership
with popes: that of Mary at the basilica of S. Mariae; of Saints Gervase and Protase at S. Vitalis
(titulus Vestinae); of Stephen at Demetrias’s estate church on the Via Latina, at an oratory at
the Lateran and at S. Stephani in celio monte; and of St John the Evangelist and St John the
Baptist at other oratories at the Lateran. The dedication to Mary followed the Council of
Ephesus (431) at which she was declared Theotokos (Mother of God). It is not clear from the
Liber whether the dedication of Vestina’s church was determined by Innocent I or by the
aristocratic lady but, given the extent to which she funded it, it was probably her choice. The
dedications to Stephen were almost certainly part of the empire-wide adoption of his cult
following the discovery of his relics in 415. Neither of the Saints John are known to have
previously had a church or shrine dedicated to them in Rome, although Ravenna had had both
such churches since the first half of the fifth century.204 Collectively these new dedications do
not suggest a concerted effort to introduce new saints.

Symmachus introduced more non-Roman saints than any other pope in the sixth century. At the
basilica of St Andrew (the Rotunda) he introduced seven cults, of which we know six from
inscriptions and the Liber Pontificalis: the apostles Andrew and Thomas; Apollinaris (the first
bishop of Ravenna); Sossus (a deacon from Campania); Cassian of Imola; the brothers Protus
and Hyacinth. Of these, Andrew was already venerated at the church dedicated by Pope
Simplicius for Valila, and an inscription of Damasus, found at the cemetery of Basilla, attests to
a cult of the brothers from at least the last quarter of the fourth century; otherwise, formal
veneration of these saints appears to have been new in Rome. Symmachus also constructed two
other churches and an oratory, and dedicated them to Saints Martin of Tours, Agatha and
Cosmas and Damian, none of whom are known to have been previously formally venerated in
Rome. Two of these last cults were re-introduced later in the sixth century: Felix IV (526-30)
dedicated the significant conversion of a state building in the Forum Romanum to Cosmas and
Damian, and Gregory I dedicated the Arian Gothic church to Agatha in c.594. Other papal
introductions were SS. Cyrici and Julitae, (Pope Vigilius) and SS. Philippi et Iacobi (Pelagius I
and/or John III). Either Pelagius I or Pelagius II introduced the cult of the Maccabees.205 As I

203
For Table 4.5, see the Appendix (Tables), pp. 206-09.
204
Deliyannis, Ravenna in Late Antiquity, pp. 62-63.
205
An inscription records the arrival of their relics in S. Pietri in Vincoli in the second half of the century
but it does not make clear which Pelagius.

150
show in Table 4.5, in almost all cases the dedications were accompanied by the installation of
relics, indicated usually by the presence of confessiones; these relics could be corporeal,
contact or instrumental.206

Of these new dedications after 476, extant inscriptions from Symmachus’s Rotunda, and
inscriptions and apse and triumphal arch mosaics in SS. Cosmae et Damianis and St Laurence’s
give a few insights into new saint-cults as a new form of patronage. Of Symmachus’s seven
new cults, four dedicatory inscriptions survive, one of which relates to the entire construction.
The church SS. Cosmae et Damianis is notable for its apse mosaic in which a pope appears for
the first time. The church had been a secular hall in a building associated with the practice of
medicine; the saints were eastern martyrs who, as anargyroi, were healers who would not
accept payment. The figures in the mosaic are Christ standing between Peter and Paul, each
flanked by Cosmas and Damian who, in turn, had Pope Felix IV and St Theodore Tiron at their
sides. The group appears together in paradise: the mosaic depicts palm trees and a phoenix,
motifs of paradise and resurrection. Some of these features are replicated in the triumphal arch
mosaic in the new basilica that Pelagius II erected for St Laurence on the Via Tiburtina. Like
Felix, Pelagius appears in a company of saints (Peter, Paul, Laurence, Stephen, Hippolytus);
Laurence seems to introduce him.207 Both popes are shown holding models of their churches;
both churches have dedicatory inscriptions.

In all three situations popes declared their patronage of the cults in ways that were calculated to
garner the prestige that attached to church construction. In the two cases where a cult was
introduced, it is clearer that their patronage was of the cult; in the third it seems more obviously
of the building. The inscription which refers to the entire construction of S. Andreae declared
Symmachus a ‘confessor of holy honour’ and asserted that the ‘[saints’] enduring renown [is]
enhanced by [his] pious inscriptions’.208 The dedication to the deacon Sossus recorded that
‘Bishop Symmachus, the consecrator of such an honour, has made this [to be] commemorated
by his inscriptions’.209 The third text stated: ‘To the holy martyrs, Protus and Hyacinth,
Symmachus has paid this tribute and adorned the monument beneath which he has again placed

206
The Book of the Pontiffs, p. 111 defines confessio as ‘an area in front of an altar above a martyr’s
tomb, excavated to give closer access to, or sight of, the grave’. Contact relics are cloth whose sanctity
derives from contact with corporeal parts or from the absorption of atmosphere around the body;
instrumental relics are those used in the martyrdom, for St. Laurence’s grill. See C. Goodson, ‘Building
for Bodies’, pp. 66-67.
207
Caillet, J-P., ‘Dedicator’s Image in the Church Space (4th-7th centuries): the emergence of a visual
system of theocratic power’, Antiquité Tardive, 19 (2001), p. 161.
208
ICUR-NS, II, no 4109: ‘Quam tamen antistes sancti confessor honoris / Et meritis suis voluit
nobilitare suis’; translation by Alchermes, ‘Petrine Politics’, p.21.
209
ICUR-NS, II, 246-47, No 8a: ‘Symmachus antistes tanti sacrator honoris / Haec fecit titulis
commemoranda suis’; translation by Alchermes, ‘Petrine Politics’, p. 27.

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their blessed bodies…’210 These statements, in three of the four extant texts, suggest that
Symmachus would have been similarly mentioned in some of the others. The foundation
inscription of SS. Cosmae et Damianis makes clear that the pope’s patronage includes the cult:
‘From the martyr-physicians’ unshakeable hope has come to the people and the place has
grown by virtue of [its] sacred honour. Felix has offered to the Lord this gift, worthy of a
bishop, that he may live in the heights of heaven.’ Laurence was not a new cult but the new
basilica ad corpus was, I suggest, a similar investment. The inscription for the new construction
asserts Pelagius’s patronage: ‘the Pontiff consecrated these [structures] to his [Laurence’s]
merits’ and ‘The martyr Laurence long ago determined that such precious temples would be
given to him by Bishop Pelagius.’211

I suggest that the core components of this new form of patronage were popes’ self-presentation
as worthy intercessors and the faithful’s wish for intercession and/or salvation. As mentioned,
three of the four dedicatory inscriptions asserted Symmachus’s piety and his relationship to the
saints; for instance, he was a sufficient ‘confessor of holy honour’ that the saints’ enduring
renown would be enhanced by his inscriptions.212 Felix’s position among the Christ and the
saints was novel Although, as Caillet observes, he stands to one side of the main group, his
position mirrors that of Theodore, implying his equal status with that saint. 213 His offer of the
church, while three saints offer their crowns, equates his gift with their martyrdoms.214 The
image strongly implied that the pope belonged in the company of saints in paradise, or would
do so in the future and, I argue, implicitly asserts his status as an intercessor. The apse mosaic
at St Laurence’s did not survive the thirteenth-century rebuilding and a little less can be read
into the triumphal arch mosaic. Nevertheless, in the mosaic Pelagius similarly appears in the
company of Christ and saints. His relationship with Laurence is more intimate than Felix’s with
Cosmas and Damian.215 He presents a model church opposite Hippolytus who is holding a
martyr’s crown which, if original, would again equate the donation of a church with
martyrdom. I suggest that both mosaics particularly aimed to present the popes in the company
of saints and imply that they could intercede for the onlooker and provide opportunities for his
or her salvation.

210
ICUR-NS, II, no 4106: ‘Martiribus sanctis Proto pariterque Hiacyntho / Simmachus (sic) hoc parvo
beneratus honore patronos / Exornabit opus sub quo pia corpora rursus’; translation by Alchermes,
‘Petrine Politics’, p. 23.
211
ILCV, I, no. 1770; translation by Thunø, The Apse Mosaic in Early Medieval Rome: Time, Network
and Repetition (Cambridge, 2015), p.213.
212
ICUR-NS, II, no 4109: ‘Symmache quapropter vivax iam fama per aevum / Narrabit titulis amplificata
piis’. Translation by Alchermes, ‘Petrine Politics’, p.21.
213
Caillet, ‘Dedicator’s Image’, p. 159.
214
Thunø, The Apse Mosaic in Early Medieval Rome, p. 152.
215
Caillet, ‘Dedicator’s Image’, p. 161.

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The presence of saints in their relics provided opportunities for intercession, and even held out
hope for salvation. Table 4.5 shows a high incidence of knowledge of relics, in which at the
time there was increasing confidence in their efficacy.216 In general, worshippers sought saints’
help on a variety of matters. Raymond Van Dam observes that a high priority for those about
whom Gregory of Tours wrote his miracle stories was the restoration of health.217 Wiśniewski
argues that people also sought saints’ interventions to expel demons, to reveal hidden things
(divination), and to defend cities; some also arranged to be buried near saints (ad sanctos) to
obtain their intercession after death.218 The inscriptions at S. Andreae and St Laurence’s are
not very informative as to the specific intercessory appeal of the saints, beyond the fact that
they were martyrs. In dedicating the basilica to Cosmas and Damian, Felix more explicitly
offered the opportunity for worshippers to seek intercession for healing: in the mosaic the saints
hold medical doctors’ bags, and the dedicatory inscription claimed that the ‘unshakeable hope
of being healed has come to the people’.219 The presence in the mosaic of Theodore Tiron, also
known as a healing saint, arguably underscored the promise of healing. 220 Diane Apostolos-
Cappadona goes further. Noting the votive nature of the gift, she argues that the Church and
apse mosaic might best be interpreted as ‘visualising the promise of eternal salvation for both
the congregants of this particular community, and especially of this pope’.221

I argue that the fourth and final component in this new form of patronage was the enhancement
of the space or ambience in which intercession was to be sought, and of the religious
experience. The inscription commemorating S. Andreae describes the visual and spiritual
experience intended for the believer: ‘The shrine sparkles more brightly with faith than with the
gleam of polished stone (luce metalli) and the building shines, constructed by the law of the
thunderer. Those like-minded who forever hold the heavenly realms, a single house of faith
has joined as well on earth, a house which … the bishop … also wished to ennoble with
accounts of [the saints’] merits.’222 I suggest that this sense of spiritual power in the building,
which called on the symbolism of light, would have been enhanced by the presence of multiple
relics in the one place. Through relics, the pope offered opportunities for a more immediate

216
Wiśniewski, The Beginnings of the Cult of Relics, pp. 27-47.
217
R. Van Dam, Saints and their Miracles in late Antique Gaul, (Princeton, 1993), Chapter 3.
218
Wiśniewski, The Beginnings of the Cult of Relics, p. 27.
219
On the medical bags see B. Brenk ,‘Apses, Icons and “Image Propaganda” before Iconclasm’ in
Antiquité Tardive, 19 (2011), pp. 109-30. Inscription: De Rossi, ICUR, II.1: 71,134,152, translation by
Thunø, The Apse Mosaic in Early Medieval Rome, p.209.
220
Walter, The Warrior Saints, p. 45.
221
D. Apostolos-Cappadona, ‘“Decorated with luminous mosaics”: Image and Liturgy in 5 th/6th-Century
Roman Church Apse Mosaics’, in Studia Patristica, 71 [J. Day and M. Vincent (eds.), Papers presented
at Conferences on Early Roman Liturgy to 600, (14.11.2009-27.02.2010)], p. 109.
222
ICUR-NS, II, no. 4109: ‘Templa micant plus compta fide quam luce metalli / Constructumque nitet
lege tonatis opus / Concordes quos regna tenant caelestia semper / Iunxit et in terries una domus fidei /
Quam tamen anstites ……. / Et meritis voluit nobilitare suis’, translation by Alchermes, ‘Petrine
Politics’, p. 21.

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contact with the saints. Pope Felix IV developed this further in his transformation of SS.
Cosmae and Damianis. Historians have already observed the strong message of salvation and
motifs of paradise that that pervade its mosaic. Christ was presented no longer as the
philosopher-teacher of the early fifth-century, as in the mosaic in S. Pudentianae, but as a
salvific figure, the resurrected Saviour.223 Erik Thunø presents a visual interpretation of the
experience of worshipping in the basilica: the pope in the apse was a bridge across time and
space between saints and the congregation; while the saints reached down from heaven, the
worshippers aspired upwards and heaven and earth merged in ‘a new, united, ecclesiological
reality’.224

The loss of the apse mosaic at St Laurence’s prevents a reconstruction of how the altar may
have appeared but it is probable that the building offered a similar experience to that described
above at SS. Cosmae et Damianis. The inscription at St Laurence’s refers to light: ‘As the Lord
supplemented darkness with created light, so [here] brilliance as of a thunderbolt rests on things
once hidden’.225 The basilica was also designed to improve access to the body of Laurence for
worshippers and pilgrims. It replaced the narrow approach to the tomb, catacomb galleries and
possibly an underground area by a larger hall, filled with light, which was capable of holding a
sizeable congregation.226

St Pancras provides a very different example of a cult developed in acts of papal patronage.
which resulted in enhancement of the cemetery as a burial place and the production of relics for
distribution by popes. Apart from a mention in the fifth-century Martyrologium
Hieronymianum, nothing is known of his cult before Symmachus built a basilica and a bath,
and provided a silver arch weighing 15lbs. Beyond the period under consideration, Honorius I
(625-38) rebuilt the church on a larger scale, increasing it from some 30 metres to 55, but he
probably also destroyed any dedicatory inscriptions or mosaics, so we are not able to appreciate
how Symmachus and later popes presented their patronage. However, it was clearly a
successful papal saint-cult. Pancras’s intercessory appeal was as a diviner of ‘hidden things.’
Gregory of Tours attested to his reputation in the late sixth century as a powerful avenger of
perjurers.227 Gregory I replaced the priests of the titulus S. Chrysogoni with monks and an
abbey, closely attached to the church, to ensure the continuity of services.228 The cemetery

223
On Christ as philosopher-teacher: Brenk, ‘Apses, Icons and “Image Propaganda”’, p. 112; Apostolos-
Cappadona, ‘“Decorated with luminous mosaics’”, p. 104.
224
Thunø, , The Apse Mosaic in Early Medieval Rome, pp. 81-82.
225
ILCV, 1770, translation by Thunø, The Apse Mosaic in Early Medieval Rome, p.213.
226
CBCR, II, pp. 135-36.
227
Gregory of Tours, Glory of the Martyrs, trans. with Introduction by R. Van Dam, Translated Texts for
Historians, no. 4 (Liverpool, 1988), n. 38, p.60; LP 62.2.
228
On the relationship of the monastery to the church, see Martyn, The Letters of Gregory the Great,
4.18. Gregory wrote to Maurus, abbot of St Pancras, stating: ‘We should … establish a community of
monks in the monastery adjacent to the same church … so that the abbot in charge there should have

154
attracted some elite burials.229 The frequency with which Gregory I distributed Pancras’s relics
attests to his high status as a papal cult: Conrad Leyser shows that Gregory did so on four
occasions compared with three for Peter and two for Paul.230 Inter alia, patronage of the cult
resulted in control over its relics.

The detailed evidence for new cults and the development of existing ones is limited but, I
suggest, some extrapolation is reasonable. The list compiled by Leyser suggests that that popes
invested in some but not all the cults in Rome. Further, there is a strong correlation between the
fourteen saints on the list, whose relics were requested from Gregory I, and churches dedicated
to them, which were built or repaired or enhanced in the sixth century. Among the
constructions are Agatha, Hermes, Hyacinth, Laurence, Pancras; among the enhancements
Peter, Paul, Stephen, John and Paul. Additionally, Gregory was asked for permission was for
the dedication of a shrine to Cyriacus.231 I suggest that some or all of the features set out in
regard to SS. Cosmae et Damianis, St Laurence’s and S. Pancratii, would have in present in
other churches that received popes’ patronage. I consider that Gregory I’s modifications to the
confessiones at St Peter’s and St Paul’s, which allowed structured access for worshippers and
pilgrims, should be seen in this context. As these cases show, popes clearly wished to assert
their position as patrons of cults, a motive that, I consider, was very evident in Gregory I’s
placement of a bronze engraving of his letter to the sub-deacon Felix in the narthex of St
Paul’s, which established an endowment to fund lighting in the basilica.232 The essence of this
new form of patronage was the provision of opportunities to seek saints’ intercession and
intervention. However, I suggest that the ‘gift’ went beyond the simple opportunity for
intercession; popes attempted to create an ambience that made the possibility of intercession
more credible, in the process enhancing the experience for the believer. The references to
‘light’ in the inscriptions and Gregory’s provision of lighting were not accidental.

total care and concern over the aforesaid church. … But take care over this before all else, that each day
the work of God is carried out there … before the most sacred body of Saint Pancras’.
229
Three inscriptions record the burials of two persons of equestrian rank (in 522), one vir clarissimus
(between 542 and 565) and one spectabilis femina (in 543)— ICUR-NS, II, nos. 4280, 4286, 4287. The
fact that the cemetery had a praepositus also implies its high status as a burial ground. Also, ICUR, II,
no. 4279.
230
See the Table in C. Leyser, ‘Roman martyr piety in the age of Gregory the Great’, Early Medieval
Europe, 9.3 (2000), p. 301. For Letter 11.5 in Leyser’s Table read the related 9.233. Leyser lists 14 saints
and shows separately information requests for relics and permission for dedications. If both categories
are added, Gregory responded five times with reference to Pancras, and four times and twice in regard to
Peter and Paul.
231
Martyn, The Letters of Gregory the Great, 9.166.
232
Martyn, The Letters of Gregory the Great, 14.14.

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Conclusion

This examination of patronage started with the hypothesis that the end of the line of western
emperors had a significant impact on the institution of the Roman Church. I have deliberately
focused on the Church as an institution in Rome because I consider that there was a core
institution which had an existence of its own, and examination of it and its experience of
patronage would yield meaningful conclusion. I also consider the Liber Pontificalis is the
history of the institution, not of Rome, and it should be examined in that light. The Liber has
long been considered biased in favour of demonstrating papal patronage. That judgement must
remain. However, if the text is accepted as an institutional history, the omission of, say, the
Byzantine administration’s churches should be less surprising. Overall, the paucity of evidence
has been a problem but, I suggest, some conclusions are possible.

Some scholars emphasise the isomorphic aspect of papal patronage, aligning it with imperial
and senatorial patronage in Rome. Unquestionably, this element existed. However, I consider
that there is a danger that this detracts from an appreciation of the Church as an ecclesiastical
institution. Thomas Noble has observed that ‘the routine business of papal government, and the
duties of the pope as an Italian metropolitan, always took precedence over everything else’.233 I
consider that a similar view of the Roman Church emerges from this analysis of patronage.
Most of the patronage was directed to places that helped to fulfil the bishop’s and the Church’s
pastoral and liturgical responsibilities in Rome. In introducing new saint-cults, popes sought to
engage with the people of Rome in a religious and ecclesiastical milieu. I consider that this
analysis suggests that more attention should be paid to functional and religious elements of the
Church as an ecclesiastical institution.

The relationship of the aristocracy and the Church also features strongly in the scholarship. I
have argued that the relationship was more nuanced than has been acknowledged to date and it
does not follow that conversion resulted in patronage. Rather than accepting that aristocrats
were almost genetically conditioned to give, I argue that attention should be paid to how they
processed their membership of the Church to their advantage. I suggest that their patronage
before 476 can be overstated, or it may have taken the form of large payments for services such
as burials and memorials; after that date the evidence suggests that they mostly patronised their

233
T.F.X. Noble, ‘Theoderic and the Papacy’, in Teodorico il Grande e I Goti d’Italia: atti del XIII
Congresso internazionale di studi sull’Alto Medioevo, Milan 2-6 novembre 1992, Spoleto: Centro
italiano di studi sull’Alto Medioevo (1993), pp. 395-423; quoted by Sessa, ‘The Roman Church and its
Bishops’, p. 426.

156
own localities or built on their own estates. I argue that members of the church actively
attempted to exclude aristocrats’ influence while still wanting their patronage. The Roman
Synod of 502, which eschewed lay interference, was a strong message to aristocrats from a
Church that was finding its feet in a new environment. The references to Vestina and Demetrias
may well have been made in the spirit of encouraging donations.

Very little is known about clerical patronage after 476. The letters of Gregory I suggest that it
may have continued, even if it did not impact on the Church as defined for the purpose of this
chapter. There is good reason to think that the clergy’s relationship with the Church changed,
influenced by the new financial arrangement that may have made payment for clerical office
worthwhile, and even normal. While any assessment can only be speculative, the financial and
isomorphic benefits of copying the behaviours of the imperial bureaucracy may have been too
appealing. Although his extant letters on the subject were directed to persons outside Rome,
Gregory’s campaign against simony comes across as a struggle for the soul of the
administration.

I suggest that my analysis supports the hypothesis that the loss of the main category of patron
was a profound shock to the Roman Church: the composition and contributions of patrons
changed, the Church became more united and, arguably, its character changed to a degree.
Popes emerged as the main patron and most of patronage then became internal. I consider that
institutional theorists would recognise the loss as a shock. I suggest that they would also
observe that the Church’s post-476 strategic focus of its patronage on its pastoral and liturgical
responsibilities had antecedents in behaviour since the pontificate of Sixtus III, thus
exemplifying the concept of path dependence. They would probably also consider that the
quadripartitum also demonstrated the concept: it addressed some of the same financial and
patronal needs that had existed before 476, particularly maintenance of churches, clerical
remuneration and funds for the poor. The financial arrangement may have contributed to the
unification of the Church. How the pope acquired greater control over the tituli in the sixth
century remains largely unexplained. In theory, particularly if the income of the patrimonies
was included in the fund to be divided, the quadripartitum may have produced a more united
body by giving the clergy a quarter share in the enterprise.

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CHAPTER 5

Conclusion

The late fifth century brought about profound changes in the relationship between the Roman
Church and Empire, and the start of a transformation in the Church itself. In responding to the
changes, the Church devised new strategies to assert its authority. The creation of a chronicle of
the bishops of the Roman Church, the Liber Pontificalis, allowed writers at the Church to craft
a continuous history of popes developing the Roman Mass and all features of the Church in
Rome, as well as to construct new expressions of claims to primacy on doctrinal matters. Later
in the sixth century, the Collectio Avellana drew together a collection of letters that charted
new formulations of authority, as well as explicitly and obliquely proposing the basis of a
revised relationship with the imperial administration. In the later fifth and early sixth centuries,
the bishops surpassed other patrons of the Roman Church in new constructions and
refurbishments of the churches in the city. Through all these means the Church was
transformed as an institution, reacting to major shocks, managing the self-interest of its
members and following paths previously laid down. This study explores the development of the
Roman Church as an institution. The findings in regard to this development exemplify some of
the main insights of two schools of neo-institutional theory, Historical Institutionalism and
Rational Choice Theory.

The study yields three main sets of findings, explored in the following three sections. First, in
response to the two major challenges that the Church experienced at the beginning of the
period, the loss of western emperors as its main patrons and supporters of its authority and the
challenge from an eastern emperor to its claim to exclusively define orthodox doctrine, its
members sought to promote the authority of their bishop, and to maintain and strengthen the
Church’s claim to doctrinal primacy. For much of the time, certainly the years 476-536, the
Church’s development should be understood as a response to these challenges. Second, the
sources reviewed suggest that the Church is best understood as an ecclesiastical institution with
ecclesiastical objectives and concerns, rather than one whose leadership was focused on secular
aspirations in Rome. It was also an institution in which some members of the clergy sought to
promote their own self-interest, while being alive to and seeking to promote the Church’s
strategic concerns. Third, the period saw new formulations of doctrinal and jurisdictional
primacy which reflected the conditions of the time. I show that it is not correct to characterise
assertions of papal authority as rhetoric to cover weakness: popes seriously engaged with
eastern emperors and had some success. The Church’s emphasis on its orthodoxy and doctrinal

158
primacy, and its relative effectiveness, call for a re-assessment of how papal authority was
exercised or ‘worked’ in late antiquity.

The Roman Church’s response to the Events of 476 and 482

Historical Institutionalists posit the notion of exogenous shocks. Institutions are usually in a
state of equilibrium but they can sustain external shocks which puncture it and cause them to
adjust. I consider that the two challenges that the Roman Church experienced in 476 and 482
were such exogenous shocks. I argue that much of the period, but especially 476-536, should be
understood in terms of the Roman Church’s response to the double challenges. To some
historians the event of 476 initiated a new political landscape and created the conditions for an
‘independent papacy’ up until 536, during which popes more efficiently and assertively
governed the church, after which the Church was subject to the Byzantine tyranny. However,
the other side of that independence was insecurity, lack of support, and the need to establish
authority and legitimacy in a changed environment. The significance of the challenges, and the
appropriateness of their identification, can be seen in the way that the Roman Church’s
members reacted: the editors of the Liber Pontificalis actively promoted the authority of their
bishop, and they sought to strengthen the Church’s claim to doctrinal primacy.

I show in Chapter 2 that the first edition of the Liber Pontificalis was ultimately a response to
these challenges: the editors united around the person of the bishop of Rome and sought to
shore up and assert the claim to doctrinal primacy. They promoted the authority of the bishop
by presenting holders of the office as initiators of all aspects of Church’s development
(organisation, liturgy and ritual, and church constructions) and by emphasising, in most cases,
their martyrial status and/or their role in defending orthodoxy (making decisions on doctrinal
issues or finding heretics). In presenting popes as constructors of churches, the editors claimed
for them the same or a similar prestige that accrued to emperors or leading senators for the
construction of public monuments in Rome. I additionally demonstrate that the first edition of
the Liber Pontificalis contains five arguments or representations in support of the Church’s
claim to primacy on doctrine.

In Chapter 4 I show that the loss of the Church’s main patrons was significant because other
secular rulers did not replace western emperors in that role, and the resources available to popes
and the Church after 476 were more limited. Neither of the Arian rulers, Odoacer (476-93) and
Theoderic (493-526), are known to have patronised the Roman Church to any noticeable
degree. Of the two, the position regarding Theoderic is less clear: some brick-stamps imply that
he may have sponsored repairs at up to 14 churches but, equally, the bricks may have been
acquired by others from a depot that he commissioned. Eastern emperors did not become
significant patrons either before or after Justinian’s reconquest, possibly as a matter of policy.
The Byzantine administration constructed churches in Rome in the second half of the sixth

159
century, but these did not immediately become part of the Church of Rome and, arguably, were
built to compete with it. With the exception of the pontificate of Symmachus, the number of
churches that popes built was small, as was their relative size; some of the work carried out was
restoration of cemeteries, which is unlikely to have entailed large expenditures.

The change brought about by the event of 476, which included the loss of western emperors’
patronage was transformative; paradoxically, it may have helped to unify the Church. I argue in
Chapter 4 that aristocrats did not take on the role of major patrons in Rome as they mainly
directed their patronage towards their own localities and estates, a process that became more
apparent in the last quarter of the fifth century. This was matched by the Roman Church’s
efforts to exclude the influence of aristocrats. The clergy became less visible as patrons,
possibly due a financial arrangement that may have altered its members’ relationship with the
Church. The quadripartitum, a fourfold division of Church revenues, gave a quarter share to
the clergy. It appears to have been introduced or acquired a new importance in c.475, probably
in response to the run-down of the western imperial support. This measure gave the clergy a
quarter share in the income of the Church and may have helped unite the organisation as well
as changing the clergy’s perception of themselves as recipients of an income rather than as
donors. Whether or not this changed the character of their relationship with the Church, clerics
ceased to be visible as patrons. In this process of elimination popes emerged as the main
patrons.

The Roman Church lost much of the support structure that had existed before 476 and eastern
emperors became challengers in certain areas. In 421 the emperor Honorius had opposed the
attempt by his nephew Theodosius to allocate the papal vicariate of Thessalonica to
Constantinople. In 445, in relation to Hilary of Arles’s behaviour, the emperor Valentinian III
issued a rescript requiring Gallic and other provinces to obey the apostolic see. After 476 the
Church could no longer count on this type of support and it very quickly received a challenge
to its claim to determine orthodox doctrine, when the emperor Zeno issued the Henotikon, the
first of several such challenges in the period. This was not the first time that emperors had
intervened to define doctrine: in 325 Constantine had influenced the definition of Christ’s
nature at Nicea; in 359 Constantius II had pressured two Councils into accepting a new creed.
However, Zeno’s intervention mattered much more in 482: it was issued after the Roman
Church’s success at Chalcedon (451), and at a time when it was beginning to assert its primacy
on doctrine.

Instead of the apparatus of empire, a different structure of support was activated by the event of
476. I consider that the decision of the synod of Rome of 501 that the pope could not be judged
was highly significant as it reflected the dynamics of a different structure in action. Insofar as
the synod’s membership was wider than that of the clergy of Rome and of the bishops of

160
suburbicarian Italy, and it was supported on a principled basis by Avitus of Vienne, it
represented external ecclesiastical support for the office of the bishop of Rome. I argue that this
external support for the office was later echoed by the efforts of the editors of Liber Pontificalis
to promote his authority. Both actions point to the different nature of the environment in which
the Church was operating after 476.

The analysis and argument that I present differs from those who see the Gothic Wars as more
determinative in the development of the Church in this period, and from those who see the
Laurentian schism of the Gothic Wars as the stimulus or context for Liber Pontificalis. Clearly,
there was a considerable gap between 476/482 and the date of final compilation of the first
edition (c.536) but the challenges, initiated at the start, continued to have effect throughout the
period, and it would have taken time for the consequences of the events to become fully
apparent. The Acacian schism (484-519) was followed by Justinian’s attempt to secure
acceptance of the theopaschite formula (campaigning 519-34). The Roman Church remained
unsupported by the emperors or by their administration. The first edition of the Liber addressed
needs that had been created in 476 and 482. This thesis argues for a greater understanding of
the impact and significance of the two challenges initiated by the events of 476 and 482.

The Roman Church as an Institution

Although the sources are limited, this study shows that the Roman Church responded to the
changed conditions after 476 by defining the boundaries of the institution and its relationships.
It shows that the Church focused primarily on fulfilling the bishop’s pastoral and liturgical
responsibilities in the city. It casts some light on the leadership below the level of the pope
which, in a way that resonates with the behaviour of the sixth-century imperial bureaucrat John
Lydus, demonstrated both strategic awareness and the pursuit of self-interest. The study reveals
the emergence of the clergy as a force, exemplifying the observations of Rational Choice
theorists that people in institutions pursue their own interests. In addition, although the findings
are to a degree speculative, the study hints at the existence of two major internal debates on the
strategic direction of the institution in the sixth century. All these findings point to a greater
degree of institutional development in the sixth century than has been appreciated to date. They
also question certain conclusions of those who focus on explaining the rise of the Church and
of its bishop in terms of a search for a position of dominance in Rome.

I argue that we see the Roman Church defining itself, with the help of Italian bishops, in its
exclusion of aristocratic influence and in its attempts to re-define its relationships with secular
rulers. I show in Chapter 4 that at a relatively early stage members of the Church sought to
exclude the influence of aristocrats. Even though the membership of the synod of Rome that
met in 502 was wider that the core Roman Church, the decision to prevent aristocrats making
decisions about the Church was a defining moment. That exclusion and the declaration of the

161
principle ‘papa a nemine iudicatur’ meant that the Church emerged from the synods of 501 and
502 with a clearer juridical and institutional identity. The prescriptions for Church-secular
relations that are apparent in both the Liber Pontificalis and the Collectio Avellana were an
acknowledgement of the fracture caused by the events of 476 and 482 and reflected an attempt
to re-set the relationship.

In Chapter 4 my analysis of patronage demonstrates that popes’ constructions, works and gifts
were overwhelmingly directed at the major basilicas (St Peter’s, St Paul’s, and St Laurence’s),
major cemeterial basilicas and cemeteries, which in turn implies a determination to fulfil the
bishop’s pastoral and liturgical responsibilities in the city. As I have defined the Roman Church
as the institution that functioned to fulfil the pope’s pastoral and liturgical responsibilities, this
may seem self-fulfilling. However, papal funding was not directed at public buildings or
monuments, and the definition has served in practice to clarify the nature of aristocratic
patronage. The recipients of papal largesse were the Church’s main ecclesiastical centres which
served as major cult sites, important burial grounds, and the locations for the city’s stational
liturgy that had started to take shape in the fifth century.

Chapter 4 also demonstrates that popes also introduced saint-cults and developed existing cults
as a new form of patronage. These introductions and developments had elements in common
with church construction, with which they were often linked in practice, but they represented a
different patronal offering: the opportunity for access to saints and/or the hope of salvation, and
a deeper religious experience generated by the enhanced setting in which relics were housed.
These new offerings were both a new form of patronage and a new form of papal authority. The
strategic direction of its patronage and the development of the new form of patronage and
authority point to the essential ecclesiastical nature of the institution, one that focused primarily
on fulfilling the pastoral and liturgical responsibilities of the bishop in the city.

Both the Liber Pontificalis and the Collectio Avellana offer insights into the higher reaches of
the Roman Church at levels below that of the pope. Both are the work of bureaucrats who, like
John Lydus, combined a strategic awareness of their institution’s needs, an ability to balance
those needs with their own self-interest, and a deep awareness of their institution’s history. In
Chapter 2 I show that the balance was struck by the editors who promoted the authority of the
bishop of Rome and the record of orthodoxy and of doctrinal primacy on the one hand, and
their own self-interest on the other by requiring that the bishop exercise his authority with their
consent and by asserting that he was accountable.

The Collectio is an equally remarkable document. Contrary to current interpretations which

seek to place it among canonical collections, I demonstrate that it is a very intricate letter
collection, which had three main objectives: to defend the record of Pope Vigilius (537-55) or
the position he stood for as reflected in his First Constitutum; to record and to assert new

162
formulations of primacy; and to opine on Church-Empire relations. The compiler’s attention to
the needs of the institution is apparent in his tracking of new expressions of primacy and in his
suggestions for Church-Empire relations, the latter of which comprise the entire first section of
the Collectio. A collective rather than a personal self-interest is detectable in so far as the
Collectio may be considered to reflect the position of one side of a complex internal debate that
may have persisted for 33 or more years after 554 on the condemnation of the Three Chapters
and the related questions of whether the pope could absolve the sins of a deceased person, and
whether saints were active post-mortem.

The study, in fact, suggests the presence of two important internal debates in the sixth century
on the strategic direction of the Church, the evidence for which is slightly more secure in one of
the cases. As regards the first, some evidence, stretching over a long period and alternatively
explicitly or implicitly critical of payment for office, points to an intense debate within the
institution over its character. Banned by the Church as simony, payment for office was a
feature of the imperial bureaucracy and consecrations fees were a regular feature of
ecclesiastical appointments in the East. Justinian gave the practice legitimacy when he
legislated in 542 for consecration fees, including those for the bishop of Rome, and stated that
they should be regarded as donations. There are a sufficient number of references to simony in
the Roman Church in the Liber, the Laurentian Fragment, and in inscriptions across the sixth
century to suggest that payment for office in the form of consecration fees, or in another form,
was a feature of the papal administration. In Chapter 4 I argue that the references to payments
and Gregory I’s campaigns against simony probably reflect a tension between a tendency of the
papal administration to emulate the practices of imperial bureaucracy, and a wish to comply
with long-standing canons of the Church. Gregory’s campaigns appear as a struggle for the
soul of the episcopate in general and of the Roman Church in particular, and this, rather than or
as much as his employment of monks in the administration, may have accounted for his evident
unpopularity within Church after his death.

The most recent document in the Collectio Avellana, Pope Vigilius’ First Constitutum, gives a
hint of a second possible major internal debate, this time over the condemnation of the Three
Chapters and the related question of whether popes could bind or loose the sins the deceased,
and by extension whether saints could perform miracles post-mortem. Vigilius presented a
principled defence of the Chapters, taking a position consistent with that of Gelasius I at the
synod of Rome in 495, that is, it was not possible to condemn the deceased. The principle was
honoured in the breech: by Pope Hormisdas in 519 when he required names of deceased eastern
prelates to be removed from diptychs, and by Boniface II in 530 when he required the Roman
clergy to condemn his deceased rival Dioscorus. Nevertheless, Vigilius argued the case on
Gelasian lines in the First Constitutum and the issues were also debated in Constantinople at the

163
time. The Roman Church did not formally acknowledge the significance of Vigilius’s
subsequent condemnation of the Three Chapters in the Second Constitutum until Gregory I, as
Pelagius II’s deacon, wrote to the Istrian bishops in c.587. I argue in Chapter 3 that this points
to the possibility that members of the Church divided on the issues and that the Collectio
Avellana was compiled to provide a supporting dossier for one of the parties.

The study reveals a growing sense of a search for a special identity and legitimacy among the
clergy, apparent in the Liber’s editors’ claim that Peter commissioned the papal administration.
In Chapter 2 I show that in the Life of Clement, the editors altered extracted words from
Clement’s letter to James to construct a Petrine commission for the clerical administration. The
altered words claimed that Peter passed on to Clement a divided mandate: Clement was to
confine himself to preaching and leave the care of the business of the Church (actus
ecclesiasticus) to others. Being able to demonstrate authority for their activities back to Peter
would have given the clerical ordo in Rome their a new legitimacy.

Suggestions for Church-secular relations, which feature in both the Liber Pontificalis and the
Collectio Avellana, belie the notion that either of these texts reflected an agenda for popes to
become secular rulers in Rome. In Chapter 2 I identify three messages: emperors should have a
subordinate role in regard to ecumenical councils; imperial patronage was welcomed, with
Constantine presented as the exemplar; a ruler’s engagement in disputed papal elections was
acceptable if he applied the correct selection criteria. I establish in Chapter 3 that this aspect
featured even more strongly, with the entire first section devoted to the issue. Apart from
showing an emperor’s exemplary handling of a disputed papal election, the compiler’s
selections argue strongly against emperors’ involvement in doctrinal issues but assign to them
roles in ensuring compliance with the Church’s decisions and in dealing with heretics. These
prescriptions suggest a view of the Church functioning in a society which was ruled over by an
emperor or secular ruler. Although the messages are stronger in the Collectio, I suggest their
presence in the Liber calls into question whether, in the first edition at least, the editors also had
an agenda of promoting popes as future rulers of Rome.

Papal Authority and Primacy

Papal authority features strongly in this period due to the need to respond to the two challenges.
Apart from the efforts of the editors of the Liber Pontificalis to promote the authority of the
bishop in the Church of Rome, I show that both the Liber and the Collectio evinced new
expressions of both doctrinal and jurisdictional primacy. For the most part these were unusual
and they need to be understood in context. In Chapter 1 I proposed five components of papal
authority which were observable before 476: biblical mandates, traditionally attributed
authority (apostolic status and the bishop of Rome at the centre of the communio), acquired
authority (including the exercise of leadership), legislative and conciliar measures, and

164
isomorphic aspects (acquiring legitimacy by copying authoritative structures). With the
departure of western emperors, the legislative component was effectively removed. I argue that
what we see after 476 is an emphasis on the attributed and acquired components, and the
tentative emergence of a new component, pastoral leadership. The isomorphic aspects remain
but, in my view, they are not as significant in this period as some argue. The study shows that
doctrinal primacy features more than jurisdictional claims, and it calls for a re-assessment of
how papal authority was exercised in this period. Chapter 3 shows a new expression of
jurisdictional primacy but its effectiveness was also ultimately based on rulers’ wishes, albeit
for their own reasons, to be in communion with Rome.

I show in Chapter 2 that the first edition of the Liber contains five arguments or representations
in support of the Church’s claim to primacy on doctrine. First, the editors asserted that a
number of popes made decisions about the Church or the entire Church (constituta de (omne)
ecclesia) which, I argue, referred to Christological issues. Second, the Church’s record on
orthodoxy was reflected in the martyrial status of popes (24 of the 33 popes before Constantine
were claimed to have been martyred) or by their actions against heretics. These claims are to be
understood in terms of the statement in the libellus that eastern prelates had to sign at the end of
the Acacian schism: ‘the apostolic see has always preserved the Catholic religion unstained’.
Third, they asserted that Peter was the source of all four gospels and, by inference, his
successors as bishop of Rome were the final arbiters of orthodox doctrine. Fourth, they asserted
that and that with God’s help he had defeated Simon Magus, the arch heresiarch. In the
understanding of the time, heresy was genealogical and all Christian heresy was traceable to
Simon; by inference all orthodoxy was sourced from Peter. The fifth assertion of this primacy
in the Liber is encapsulated in the multiple use of the term sedes apostolica in the narrative of
the Acacian schism. In describing the Roman Church as the sedes apostolica in the account of
the schism, which itself was about Rome’s doctrinal primacy, the editors strongly asserted
Rome’s primacy.

The leadership element of doctrinal primacy is emphasised in the Collectio Avellana. The
Collectio differs in that its documents show how the Church actually pressed its claims, but it
also has aspects of construction and argument. The Collectio makes clear that the Church made
its claim by referring to Pope Leo I’s leadership and success at Chalcedon. This was
conditioned by the fact that in opposing Zeno on the Henotikon and Justinian on the
theopaschite formula and the Three Chapters, the Church was defending the Chalcedon
decision, for which Leo could claim a major responsibility. After the Council, the Church
sought to defend and consolidate this success: defence of Chalcedon and promotion of doctrinal
primacy based on Leo’s leadership became inextricably linked. The compilers show two other
examples of popes demonstrating leadership on a doctrinal issue. First, they included a series of

165
letters which purportedly show Felix III (483-92) leading Italian and eastern bishops in
doctrinal issue that only affected eastern churches, the miaphysite bishop of Antioch Peter the
Fuller’s interpolation in the Trisagion. Second, the collection contains two letters of Gelasius I
refuting the teaching of Pelagius, entirely by reference to scriptural authority; two additional
related letters indicate that the compiler wished the reader to understand that, in writing to the
bishops of Dardania on Pelagianism, Gelasius was fulfilling the bishop of Rome’s
responsibility (‘managing the care of the entire sheepfold of the Lord without cease’) to drive
out heresies.1 I argue that Gelasius’ letters were included to provide an example of a pope
demonstrating leadership and competence in theology, abilities that may have been considered
pre-requisites in bishops claiming to be the arbiters of orthodox doctrine.

Both the Liber and the Collectio contain new expressions of jurisdictional primacy. The Liber’s
is pure construction. The editors inserted into the Lives of Peter and Clement altered wording
from the apocryphal letter of Clement to James, an important document in the development of
ideas of Petrine succession which had translated into Latin by Rufinus in the early fifth century.
In borrowing from the letter, the editors made some significant changes: in the life of Peter the
power of binding and loosing was equated with the government of the Church (gubernandi
appears in apposition to potestas ligandi solvendique):2 in the life of Clement, the cathedra
entrusted by Christ to Peter became the ecclesia which was passed from Peter to Clement.

The selection of letters in the Collectio charts the development of a new expression of
jurisdictional primacy that emerged in the Acacian schism, the right of the bishop of Rome to
determine membership of the entire Christian community. During the schism popes found
themselves having to justify the excommunication of Acacius, a process which led to
consideration of the ‘power to bind and loose’ and to a considerable discourse on the Christian
communio. Pope Gelasius concluded that power could not be exercised on deceased persons;
after Acacius died in 489, he explained that he could not rehabilitate the archbishop as God had
reserved to himself the power to absolve the deceased. Development of the interpretation can
be seen in the reports of the Roman synods of 485 and 495, at which the invocations change
from Matthew 16:18 (‘You are Peter, and on this rock …’) to Matthew 16:19 (‘whatsoever you
bind on earth, will be bound in heaven …’). I show in Chapter 3 that this mutated into the
power of the pope to determine membership of the community. I argue that this was a
refreshing of the notion, identified by Hertling, of the pope as the centre of the communio, but
with the added force of the power to bind and loose grafted on.

The period also sees the beginning of a newly developed expression of papal authority, the
bishop as intercessor between Christ and his saints on the one hand, and congregations in Rome

1
CA 98.1.
2
LP 1.5.

166
on the other. As I show in Chapter 4, this is apparent in the introduction of new saint-cults and
the development of a few existing ones. It owed much to an increased belief in the efficacy of
relics from the late fifth century onwards. In almost all examples the presence of relics is
attested by confessiones. We are heavily dependent on a few inscriptions and the mosaics at the
SS. Cosmae et Damianis and St Laurence’s for the interpretation of this phenomenon. In the
mosaics the bishop is seen in the company of Christ and his saints, acting as a bridge, and
offering opportunities for seeking healing, salvation or whatever else the suppliant wanted.
These introductions and development of existing cults were accompanied by visual and
material embellishments which enhanced the experience for the faithful. They provided popes
with a new means to engage with and to exercise authority over congregations in Rome.

The sources examined reveal some components of isomorphic authority but they are not, in my
view, a dominant feature. I show that isomorphic elements appear in three areas: church
constructions, the introduction of new saint-cults, and in the Liber’s authors’ assertions about
popes’ decrees. Construction of public buildings in Rome invariably carried some imperial
associations but, in Chapter 4, I argue that this can be overstated in the period after 476 when,
excepting the reign of Symmachus, constructions were fewer and smaller. The introduction of
new cults evoked similar patronal associations to constructions, with which they were often
intimately connected, but they also had a novel feature, which did not evoke comparisons with
the imperial past: the attempt by popes to interpose themselves as intercessors. I also consider
that the editors of the Liber sought to imply that popes’ decisions, introduced by constituit (ut)
or fecit.constitutum carried the same weight as imperial constitutiones. These examples are
more modest that than those of some historians, particularly Sessa (who proposes the Roman
household steward as an archetype of papal authority) and McKitterick (who argues the Liber’s
adoption of the structure of imperial histories was part of a project to promote popes as secular
rulers in Rome).

The stress on doctrinal primacy and the nature of the new expression of jurisdiction primacy in
the Collectio suggest that a re-appraisal of how papal authority was exercised or ‘worked’ in
late antiquity is appropriate. In the historiography for this period there is a heavy emphasis on
jurisdictional primacy, the continuing legacy of the work of Walter Ullmann. In this study I
argue that that the key to understanding papal authority and primacy in this period is to
appreciate the importance of the desire of other churches and communities and of emperors to
be in communion with Rome. This predisposition had developed over time and a state of being
in communion with Rome had become a requirement for membership of the wider Christian
community. Central to this development had been the sense that Rome was consistently
orthodox and that it occupied a special, if somewhat undefined, place in the ecclesiastical
structure. This desire among orthodox supporters of Chalcedon was not fundamentally changed

167
by the deposition of western emperors but, I suggest, that it came to the fore after 476 when the
pope’s authority was no longer supported by the apparatus of imperial government and the
Acacian schism opened up the issues of excommunication and the Christian communion, and
the Church faced a challenge from eastern emperors on doctrine. The assertions of doctrinal
primacy in the Liber and the Collectio reflect efforts of members of the Church to protect and
strengthen its position in the face of challenges from eastern emperors. The new expression of
jurisdictional primacy is similarly sourced: as Hertling has argued, the sense that the pope is the
centre of the communio was also based on Rome’s orthodoxy. I show that by 519 (when the
Acacian schism was settled) the position had the added force of Matthew 16:19. The Church
may not have had the means to enforce its jurisdiction but in the desire of churches and rulers
to be in communion with it, it had considerable soft power and both texts reflected attempts to
maintain it.

The view of papal authority that I present does not fit with George Demacopoulos’s argument
that popes’ assertion of authority amounted to rhetoric at times of weakness. His thesis has
gained traction in recent years. I do not agree with his assessment of a number of situations and
events. He considers that Gelasius’s rehabilitation of Misenus at the synod of Rome in 495 was
an act of weakness. In Chapter 3 I argue that the report of the synod was a powerful message to
eastern churchmen during the Acacian schism that they reconcile with the Church of Rome
while they were still alive and still could do so. He makes no mention of Hormisdas’s success
in excluding names from diptychs which I discuss in the same chapter. On the Church’s
greatest failure in the period, Vigilius’s condemnation of the Three Chapters, he points to
Gregory I’s letters to Queen Theodelinda in 593 and later, which make no mention of the
Council of Constantinople and refer to Peter and his confession, as an example of his thesis.
Instead, I reference Gregory’s earlier letter to the bishops of Istria and his argument that popes
could legitimately change their minds, and this followed, as far as we know, thirty or more
years of relative silence on the subject. This study shows, in Chapter 3 in particular, that popes
engaged with emperors and other opponents on a realistic basis, and had some success.

In summary, my focus on the Roman Church as an institution has resulted in different

conclusions to those historians who seek to explain the emergence of the bishop of Rome as the
ruler in Rome. Since historians pivoted away from the teleology inherent in many of the
histories of the papacy to explain the position of the Bishop and the Church in the city of
Rome, there has been considerably less interest in Roman Church as an institution. Thomas
Noble has pointed to the relative unattractiveness of the subject. Explaining the Church in
Rome is a different research subject and involves different research questions, but both subjects
(the Papacy and the Church in Rome) examine the same sources and, I consider, there should
be a reasonable congruence in the findings. To put it another way, an institution’s functions and

168
objectives should match or be consistent with how the institution interacts with its environment.
I show an institution or organisation that was focused on pastoral and liturgical responsibilities
in Rome. It was also one that focused on maintaining its position in the wider Church, hence
the emphasis on maintaining its record for orthodoxy and upholding its claims to be the
ultimate arbiter of orthodoxy. My analysis shows no evidence of an agenda for independence,
other than freedom from interference in doctrinal issues, and no aspiration for secular rule.

The study calls for a re-appraisal of the understanding as to how popes were able to exercise
authority in late antiquity. I suggest the questions should be not why was there a gap between
papal rhetoric and achievement but, rather, why was the Roman Church as successful as it was,
and how was it able to survive the reputational damage of the Three Chapters controversy,
given that leadership on doctrine was central to its identity. The Roman Church may have lost
much of the supportive structure of Empire, but other elements or components came into play,
in particular the desire of orthodox churches, communities and emperors to be in communion
with Rome. The principle of papal non-justiciability that emerged at the synod of Rome in 501
points to the existence of other parties who had an interest in the bishop of Rome exercising a
role and some power. To date papal authority in this period has been perceived primarily in
jurisdictional terms. This study shows that the story of the sixth century was the challenge to
Rome’s primacy on doctrine and how the Church as an institution managed and processed that
challenge.

169
Appendix (Tables)

Tables

2.1 Hallmarks of Authority 172-74

2.2 Major Disputes and Christological Issues 175-78

2.1 The Liber Pontificalis’s Attribution to Popes of Martyrdom

and Action against Heresy 179-82

4.1 Patronage of Constructions (312-c.600) 183-91

4.2 Decoration, Additions, Alterations, Repairs (312-c.600) 192-98

4.3 Liturgical Furnishings and Vessels (312-c.600) 199-203

4.4 Church of Rome-Aristocratic Relations (476-c.600) 204-05

4.5 New Saint Cults in Rome in the Fifth and Sixth Centuries 206-09

171
Table 2.1 Hallmarks of Authority

Pope Expression of action by the Discipline Liturgy Organisation Construction Decree De LP Reference
pope (Omne) Ecclesia
Peter
Linus constituit ut 1 2.2
Cletus none
Clement fecit, dividit 1 4.2
Anaclitus construxit (memoriam) 1 5.2
Evaristus dividit, ordinavit 2 6.2
Alexander constituit 1 7.2
1
Sixtus constituit ut (2) 1 1 8.2
Telesphorus constituit ut, fecit ut 1 1 9.2
Hyginus composuit, distribuit, 2 10.2
Pius constituit, fecit constitutum 1 1 11.3

Anicetus constituit ut 1 12.2

Soter constituit ut 1 13.2
Eleuther firmavit 1 14.2
Victor constituit ut (2), fecit 1 1 1 15.2-3
Zephyrinus constituit (3), fecit constitutum 1 2 1 16.2

Callistus constituit, fecit (2) 1 2 17.2-3

Urban fecit, posuit 1 18.2
Pontian none 19
Anteros exquisivit 1 20.2
Fabian dividit, fecit, praecepit 2 1 21.2

172
Cornelius none 22
Lucius praecepit ut 1 23.3
Stephen I constituit 1 24.2
Sixtus II none 25
Dionysius dedit, constituit 2 26.2
Felix I constituit, fecit 1 1 27.2
Eutychian constituit ut (2) 2 28.3
Gaius constituit ut, dividit 2 29.2-3
Marcellinus none 30
Marcellus fecit, constituit 1 1 31.2
Eusebius none 32.2
Miltiades constituit, fecit ut 1 1 33.2
Silvester constituit ut (5), fecit, fecit 2 2 1 1 1 (omne) 34.3-8
constitutum
Marcus constituit ut (2), constitutum 1 1 3 1 (omne) 35.2-3
ordinavit, fecit (3)
Julius fecit (5), constitutum fecit (2) 1 1 5 36.2-3

Liberius ornavit, fecit 2 37.7

Felix II fecit 1 38.2
Damasus fecit (2), constituit ut, constitutum 1 3 1 39.2-4
fecit, construxit

Siricius constitutum fecit, constituit ut (2), 2 1 1(omne) 40.1-3

constituit
Anastasius I fecit constitutum, constituit ut (2) 1 1 1 1 41.1-2

Innocent I constitutum fecit (2), constituit ut 1 2(omnem) 42.1-3, 7.

173
 Zosimus fecit constitutum (2), precepit ut, 1 2 43.1
constituit
Boniface I constituit ut (2) 1 1 44.5-6
Caelestinus constituta fecit, constituit ut 1 1(omnem) 45.1

Sixtus III fecit (2) 2 46.3,4,6,7

Leo I constituit (2), constituit ut (2) 1 1 2 47.6-8

Hilarus fecit constitutum, fecit (5) 5 1 48.1,2,12

Simplicius constituit ut, dedicavit (4) 1 4 49.1-2
(dedications)
Felix III fecit 1 50.1
Gelasius fecit constitutum, dedicavit, fecit 2 (1 1(omnem) 51.2,5
(2) dedication)
Anastasius II fecit 1 52.1
Symmachus fecit (5), constituit ut, construxit 1 7 53.6-11
(2)
Hormisdas fecit 1 54.1
John I none 55.7
Felix IV fecit/ refecit 2 56.2
Boniface II none 57
John II none 58

1
The number indicates the frequency of the expression.

174
Table 2.2 Major Disputes and Christological Issues

LP Pope Constitutum Possible content Other Liber Pontificalis Date of Easter Readmittance of Re-baptism
Reference de (omne) of the decree de entries (Historical apostates (lapsi) (Historical Record)3
ecclesia (omne) ecclesia Record)1 (Historical
Record) 2
LP 1 Peter (-64/67)

LP 9 Telesphorus (c.125- LP 9.2: a fast of 7 weeks

c.136) to be observed before
Easter.
LP 11 Pius (c.142-c.155) De ecclesia Action against LP 11.2: Easter to be
Marcion celebrated on a Sunday.
LP 12 Anicetus (c.155-c.174) No reference to the issue Polycarp of
of Easter in the LP. Smyrna visited
Rome when
Anicetus was
pope to argue the
date of Easter.
He pressed for
the 14th day in
Jewish month of
Nisan.4
LP 14 Eleutherius (c.174-89) LP 15.2: Easter to be
celebrated on the Lord's
day.
LP 15 Victor (189-98) LP 15.2-3: Victor Victor tried to
decreed like Eleutherius get all churches
that Easter to be to follow Roman
celebrated on a Sunday. practice on
Also, Easter should be Easter. Majority
kept on the Lord’s day followed but not
Asia Minor.5

175
 between 14th and 21st of
the first lunar month.

LP 16 Zephyrinus (198-217) De ecclesia Handling of

Adoptionism.
LP 22 Cornelius (251-53) Cornelius
favoured
inclusion of lapsi
after public
penance.6
LP 23 Lucius (253-54) No reference to the Lucius maintained Lucius received a
issues of lapsi and Cornelius's policy letter from Dionysius
baptism in the LP. of restoring of Alexandria on the
apostates after validity of heretical
suitable penance.7 baptism.
LP 24 Stephen I (254-57) No reference to the issue Stephen kept to the
of baptism in the LP. Roman practice of
accepting heretical
baptism.8
LP 25 Sixtus II (257-58) No reference to the issue Sixtus upheld the
of baptism in the LP. Roman position on
re-baptism.9
LP 26 Dionysius (260-68) No reference to the issue Dionysius followed
of re-baptism in the LP. Stephen and Sixtus II
on re-baptism.
LP 34 Silvester (314-35) De omne The condemnation
ecclesia of Arius, Callistus,
Photinus and
Sabellius.
LP 35 Marcus (336) De omne Not known.
ecclesia

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 LP 39 Damasus (366-84) De ecclesia Suppression of
Apollinarianism.
LP 40 Siricius (384-99) De omne Excommunication
ecclesia of Jovinian or
condemnation of
Bonosus.
LP 41 Anastasius I (399-401) De ecclesia Synod condemning
Origen's teaching.
LP 42 Innocent I (401-17) De omne Action against
ecclesia Pelagius.
LP 45 Celestine (422-32) De omne Action against
ecclesia Nestorius.
LP 47 Leo I (440-61) De ecclesia Leo’s Tome which
(Felician was accepted at
epitome)10 Chalcedon?
LP 48 Hilarus (461-68) De ecclesia Confirmation of
Nicea, Ephesus,
Chalcedon, Leo I's
Tome.
LP 50 Felix III (483-92) De ecclesia Not known.
(issued by
clergy)
LP 51 Gelasius (492-96) De omne Letter to the
ecclesia bishops of Lucania,
Bruttium and
Sicily?

1
The Quartodeciman Controversy
2
The issue surfaced after the Decian-Valerian persecutions (250-60).
3
The issue surfaced after the Decian-Valerian persecutions (250-60).
4
Eno, The Rise of the Papacy, p. 40.
5
Eno, The Rise of the Papacy, pp. 40-41.
6
Siecienski, The Papacy and the Orthodox, p. 151.
177
7
Kelly and Walsh, Dictionary of Popes, p. 16.
8
Kelly and Walsh, Dictionary of Popes, pp. 16-17.
9
Kelly and Walsh, Dictionary of Popes, p. 17.
10
Leo I’s decree de ecclesia is only mentioned in the Felician epitome.

178
Table 2.3 The Liber Pontificalis's Attribution to Popes of Martyrdom and of Action against Heresy

Pope Persecutions Editorial Phase in Finding Depositio Depositio Canon of Evidence of early or
which martyrdom Heretics / Martyrum Episcoporum the Mass sixth century
stated Dealing with tradition of
heresy Martyrdom?
(Editorial
Phase)

Peter (-64/67) P1 Yes Yes Yes

Linus (c.66-c78) P1 Yes Yes
Cletus (c.79-91) P1 Yes Yes
Clement (c.91-101) P1 Yes Yes
Anacletus (Cletus) P1 No1
Evaristus (c.100-09) P1 No2
Alexander (c.109-c116) P1 No3
Sixtus (c.116-c.125) P1 No4
Telesphorus (c.125- P1 Yes
c.136)
Hyginus (c.138-c.142)
Pius (c.142-c.155)
Anicetus (c.155-c.166) P3 No5
Soter (c.166-c.174)
Eleutherius (c.174-89)
Victor (189-98) P1 No6
Zephyrinus (198-217)
Callistus (217-22) P1 Yes Yes
Urban (222-30) confessor P2 No7

179
Pontian (230-35) P1 Probable8
Anteros (235-36) P1 No9
Fabian (236-50) Decius (250-51) P1 Yes Yes
Cornelius (251-53) Gallus (251-53) P2 Yes Yes
Lucius (253-54) Gallus (251-53) P2 Yes No10
Stephen I (254-57) Valerian (253-60) P1 Yes No11
Sixtus II (257-58) Valerian (253-60) P1 Yes Yes Yes
Dionysius (260-68) Yes
Felix I (269-74) P1 Yes No12
Eutychian (275-83) P3 Yes No13
Gaius (283-96) P3 Yes No14
(confessor in P2)
Marcellinus (296-304) Diocletian (303) P2 Yes No15

Marcellus (306-08) No16

Eusebius (310) ‘hereticos Yes yes?
invenit' (P1).
Miltiades (311-14) ‘Manichei
inventi sunt'
(P1)
Silvester (314-35)
Marcus (336) Yes
Julius (337-52) Yes
Liberius (352-66)
Felix II (355-65) P2 No17
Damasus (366-84)
Siricius (384-99) ‘invenit
Manicheos' (P1)
Anastasius I (399-401)
180
Innocent I (401-17) ‘Catafrigas
invenit; invenit
Pelagium et
Caelestium
hereticos' (P1)

Zosimus (417-18)
Boniface I (418-22)
Celestine (422-32)
Sixtus III (432-40)
Leo I (440-61) ‘invenit duas
hereses,
Eutychiana et
Nestoriana' (P1)

Hilarus (461-68)
Simplicius (468-83)
Felix III (483-92)
Gelasius (492-96) ‘inventi sunt
Manichei' (P1)
Anastasius II (496-98)
Symmachus (498-514) ‘invenit
Manicheos' (P1)

Hormisdas (514-23) ‘invenit

Manicheos’ (P1)

John I (523-26) P2 Yes

Felix IV 526-30)
Boniface II (530-32
John II (533-35)
181
1
Irenaeus only mentions Telephorus as a martyr in this period.
2
As note 1.
3
As note 1.
4
As note 1.
5
Kelly and Walsh, Dictionary of Popes, p. 7: The tradition that he died a martyr lacks confirmation.
6
Kelly and Walsh, Dictionary of Popes, p. 9: Reports that he was a martyr are routine and should be rejected.
7
Urban’s pontificate was wholly in reign of Alexander Severus which was free of persecution.
8
Kelly and Walsh, Dictionary of Popes, p. 12: Pontian died after enduring harsh conditions in Sardinia.
9
The Liberian Catalogue, Le Liber Pontificalis, p. 4, states that he ‘fell asleep’.
10
Included in the Depositio Episcoporum, not in the Depositio Martyrum.
11
As note 10.
12
As note 10.
13
As note 10.
14
As note 10.
15
As note 10.
16
The fifth-century Martyrology of Jerome reports that he died a confessor.
17
LP 37.5.

182
Table 4.1 Patronage of Constructions (312-c.600)

Churches, Date Type of Church / Other Information Main Patrons Endowments? Sources /
Other Evidence
Buildings
A. Period 312-476
Tituli Byzantis, pre-312 Later tituli which may have had a previous existence as Note.1
Clementis (1), S. domus ecclesiae.
Anastasiae,
Chrysogoni (1) ,
Sabinae (1), Gaii,
Crescentianae,
Pudentis (1),
Callisti, Caeciliae,
Marcelli (1).

First Sub-period (312-66)

Basilica 312-37 Church at 'the Lateran'. Emperor 14,624 solidi. LP 34.9-15.
Constantiniana Constantine
St Peter's c.325-c.342 Started by Constantine, completed by Constans. Emperors 3,708 solidi. LP 34. 16-20 ICUR-
Constantine and NS, II, nos. 4092,
Constans 4093.
St Paul's (1) 312-37 Small basilica, no more than 24m long and 18m wide.2 Emperor 4,070 solidi LP 34.21.
Constantine (questionable).3
Basilica in palatio 312-37 Built on the Sessorian barracks. Emperor 1101 solidi. LP 34.22.
sessoriano Constantine
St Laurence's (1) 324-37 ‘Basilica maior'. An ambulatory basilica. Emperor 865 solidi. LP: 34.24
Constantine
Basilica S. Agnae 324-37 The LP attributes it to Constantine. Basilica and Constantine and the 695 solidi. LP 34.23; CBCR, I,
baptistry. Also attached the mausoleum of Constantina. imperial family p. 16.

183
Basilica SS. Petri 312-24 Circiform funerary basilica, built on imperial villa or Emperor 3,754 solidi. LP: 34: 26.
et Marcellini military camp. Also attached the mausoleum of the Constantine
empress Helena.
Basilica on Via 312-37 Circiform funerary basilica Constantine Note.4
Ardeatina
S. Sebastiani before 349? Circiform funerary basilica built before 349; ad corpus Constantine or a CBCR, IV, pp. 98-
(Basilica (St Sebastian). successor 112
Apostolorum)
Titulus Silvestri (1) 314-35 Church built on the estate of the priest Equitius. Also Pope Silvester and 413 and/or 476 LP: 34.3 and 34.33.
known as titulus Equitii. the priest Equitius solidi.
Titulus Marci 336 Near Pallacinae in Rome. Pope Marcus LP 35.3.
Basilica on the Via 336 In Cemetery of Balbina Pope Marcus 125 solidi. LP: 35.3 and 35.5.
Ardeatina
Basilica Julii 337-52 Basilica near (iuxta) the forum of Trajan; it had no Pope Julius Liberian Catalogue;5
dedicated clergy. LP 36.2.
Titulus Callisti? 337-52 Across the Tiber, next to Callistus's foundation. Pope Julius Liberian Catalogue;
LP 36.2.
Basilica in Via 337-52 The Liberian Catalogue suggests a basilica, the LP a Pope Julius Liberian Catalogue;
Portuensis cemetery. LP 36.2.
Basilica in Via 337-52 The Liberian Catalogue suggests a basilica, the LP a Pope Julius Liberian Catalogue;
Aurelia cemetery. LP 36.2.
Basilica Valentini 337-52 The Liberian Catalogue suggests a basilica, the LP a Pope Julius Liberian Catalogue;
in Via Flamminia cemetery. LP 36.2.
Basilica Liberii 352-66 Said by the LP to have been have been near the market Pope Liberius LP: 37.7.
of Livia, its location has not been identified.
Second Sub-period (366-432)
Titulus Damasi 366-84 Founded or extensively rebuilt by Damasus. Dedicated to Pope Damasus 405 solidi. LP: 39.4; ICUR,
St Laurence 'in Damaso'. II.1, p.134, no.5
Basilica in Via 366-84 Site of Damasus's and his mother and sister's burial. Pope Damasus LP: 39.6.
Ardeatina

184
Titulus S. 366-84? Structural changes in 2nd half of the 4th century. A Pope Damasus? CBCR I, pp. 43-46;
Anastasiae fifth-century inscription suggests Damasus was ICUR, II.1, pp. 24,
responsible for the ceiling, and consequently the no. 25 and p. 150,
building? no. 18.
Titulus Fasciolae 366-84 Titulus known from an inscription dateable to 377. Pope Damasus?6 ICUR-NS, II, no.
4815.
St Paul's (2) 386-404 ‘Basilica of the Three Emperors', built on a scale to Emperors ICUR-NS, II, no.
match St Peters. Theodosius I, 4780.
Valentinian II and
Honorius
Titulus Pudentis (2) 387 or 390- The transformation of the thermae hall into Christian hall Presbyters Ilicius, CBCR, III, p. 279.
(S. Pudentianae) 401/417 and lavish decoration. Maximus and Note.7
Leopardus
Titulus Marcelli (2) 380-450 May have been completed at turn of 5th century. No known CBCR, II, p. 214-15.
Possible replacement of domus ecclesiae by a standard suggestions
basilica?
Titulus S. end of 4th Inscribed into an existing building. Dedicated by Pope ‘The collective CBCR, I, pp. 119-
Clementis (2) century Siricius (384-99)? commission of a 22, 135-36.
Christian
community'.8
Titulus 399-402 Excavations reveal an early Christian building c.400. Pope Anastasius LP: 41.2;
Crescentianae (S. Brandenburg, pp.
Sixti) 152-53.
Titulus Tigridae (S. c.390s? The first documentary evidence is 595. Masonry and Not known. CBCR, I (S.
Balbinae?) construction details suggest c. 400. Balbina), pp. 93-94.
St Peter's 400-08 Mausoleum at St Peter's for Honorian dynasty. Emperor Honorius
S. Petri in vinculis c.400 Construction of a church that collapsed and/or was Not known. CBCR, III, pp. 178-
(1) rebuilt 89, 227-31.
Titulus Vestinae 401-17 Project managed by the priests Ursicinus, Leopardus, Vestina (aristocrat) 1,016 solidi. LP 42.3.
and the deacon Livianus? and Pope Innocent
I?

185
Titulus Pammachii c.410 A possible combination of 2 tituli. Pammachius and CBCR, I, pp. 268-
(and Titulus Byzans (both 69, 299-300; ICUR,
Byzantis?) (SS. aristocrats)? II.1, p. 150.
Iohannis et Pauli)
S. Felicitatis in Via 418-22 Oratory built in cemetery where Boniface I stayed during Boniface I LP 44.2,6 and 7.
Salaria the disputed election (418-19) and where he was buried.

Titulus Sabinae (2) 425-32 A sumptuous replacement of a domus. The land may Bishop Peter of LP 46.8; ILCV, no.
have been provided by the aristocratic Caeionii family.9 Illyria 1778a.

Third Sub-period (432-476)

S. Mariae 432-40 An integral building of 5th century, constructed de novo. Pope Sixtus III but 773 solidi. LP 46.3.
it may have been
started under
Innocent I, Boniface
I, or Celestine.

Titulus Lucinae Probably the church for which Sixtus III asked the Pope Sixtus III? LP 46.6; CBCR, II,
emperor Valentinian III’s permission. p. 161.
S. Petri in Vinculi 432-40 The church replaced another built some 30 years earlier. Presbyter Philip, ICUR, II.1, p.110,
(2) (Titulus with some support nos. 66 and 67
Eudoxiae) from the Empress
Eudoxia.
Monasterium ad 432-40 A basilical monastery servicing S. Sebastiani? Sixtus III LP 46.7.
Catacumbas in Via
Appia
S. Stephani in Via 440-61 Pope Leo initiated construction with funds from Demetrias LP 47.1; CBCR, IV,
Latina Demetrias, and with priest Tigrinus as supervisor. (aristocrat) pp. 250-60; ILCV, I,
1765.
Basilica Cornelii in 440-61 Built by Leo I and dedicated to a predecessor, Pope Pope Leo I LP 47.6.
Via Appia Cornelius (251-53).

186
Monasterium SS. 440-61 Basilical monastery serving St Peter's; also called Pope Leo I LP 47.7.
Iohannis et Pauli 'Maior'.
Titulus Chrysogoni mid-fifth Probably the transformation of an original 4th-century Not known CBCR, I, pp. 144-
(2) century? domus. 46, 160-64.
Titulus Aemilianae fifth century? Probable transformation of a fourth-century apsidal hall Unknown Archaeological
(SS. Quattuor of private domus into a fifth-century church? evidence currently
Coronatorum) inaccessible.
Titulus Gaii (S. fifth century? No evidence of construction in the 4th to 6th centuries. Not known Synodal
Susannae) subscriptions (499
and 595).
Titulus Praxedis fifth century or Nothing known about the fifth- or earlier century Not known Synodal
earlier building. subscriptions (499
and 595).
Titulus Eusebii (S. 5th century? First known mention 474, then 499 and 595. Not known Brandenburg, pp.
Eusebii) 214-15; Synodal
subscriptions (499
and 595).
S. Archangeli unknown Mentioned in Pope Symmachus's life. Unknown LP 53.9.
Michaelis
St Laurence's 461-68 A basilical monastery, 2 baths, a praetorium, two Pope Hilarus LP 48.12.
libraries.
Baptisterium 461-68 Three Oratories: S. Iohannis Baptistae, S. Iohannis Pope Hilarus LP 48.2.
Basilicae Evangelistae, Sanctae Crucis.
Constantinanae
Baptisterium 461-68 Oratory dedicated to St Stephen Pope Hilarus LP 48.12.
Basilicae
Constantinanae
Monasterium ad 461-68 Nothing known of its history or location Pope Hilarus LP 48.12.
Lunam
Basilica Salvatoris 462-70 Arian Church. Later (590-604) converted to S. Agathae The magister ILCV, 1637; ICUR,
Gothorum. militum Ricimer II, 438.

187
S. Andreae 470-79 Transformation of aula of Junius Bassus. Dedicated by Catholic Goth LP 49.1; ICUR,
Simplicius. general Valila II.1, p. 436.
S. Stephani in celio 460-83 A martyrium without relics or resident clergy. Begun in Emperors but LP 49.1.
monte 460s, dedicated by Pope Simplicius (468-83). unclear which
one(s).

S. Bibianae 468-83? Basilica ad corpus. Probably a conversion of a Aristocratic? LP 49.1; CBCR, I,

hypogeum in a house. Dedicated by Simplicius. p. 94.
S. Stephani (near 468-83? Dedicated by Simplicius. Aristocratic LP 49.1.
St Laurence's) foundation.
B. Period 476-c.600
S. Agapiti. 483-92 Close to St Laurence's. Pope Felix III. LP 50.1.
S. Euphemiae; SS 492-96 Located respectively at Tivoli, the via Labicana (Villa Unknown LP 51.5.
Nicandri, Eleutheri Pertusa), and Via Laurentina (20 miles from Rome). aristocrats.
et Andreae; S. Dedicated by Pope Gelasius.
Mariae
(3 Basilicas)
S. Petri (in Via 498-514 27 miles from Rome. Dedicated by Pope Symmachus. The illustrious LP 53.10.
Trebana) praetorian prefect
Albinus and
Glaphyra.
St Peter's 498-514 Basilica S. Andreae. Pope Symmachus LP 53.6; ICUR-NS,
II, nos. 4106, 4109,
4110.
S. Andreae (at St 498-514 Oratories S. Iohannis Baptistae, S. Iohannis Evangelistae Pope Symmachus LP 53. 6-7.
Peter’s) and S. Crucis.
SS. Cosmae et 498-514 Oratory at or near S. Mariae. Pope Symmachus LP 53.9.
Damianis
Titulus SS. 498-514 Construction of a church dedicated to St Martin which Pope Symmachus or LP 53.8; Laurentian
Silvestri et Martini incorporates the titulus Silvestri/Equitii. the vir illustris Fragment 52.15.
(2) Palatinus.

188
St Peter's, St Paul's, 498-514 Accommodation for the poor (pauperibus habitacula) Pope Symmachus LP 53.10.
St Laurence's
S Pancratii 498-514 Basilica and bath. Pope Symmachus LP 53.8; Laurentian
Fragment 52.15.
S. Agathae 498-514 Basilica on Via Aurelia, 10 miles outside Rome. Pope Symmachus LP 53.8.
Basilica in the 514-23 Only known from the LP. Probably in modern Albano Pope Hormisdas LP 54.1.
territory of Laziale, some 16 miles from Rome.
Albanum
SS. Cosmae et 526-30 Converted hall/offices of urban prefect, library or Pope Felix IV. LP 56.2; ICUR, II.1,
Damianis medical office. Authorisation by pp. 71, 134, 152.
Athalaric and/or
Amalasuntha.
Hostel for strangers c.540 With oratory dedicated to the Mother of God. Belisarius ‘Properties and gifts'. LP 61.2.
(Via Lata)
Monasterium S. On the Via Flamminia close to the city of Horta. Belisarius ‘Properties and gifts'. LP 61.2.
Iuvenalis
SS. Cyrici et 537-45 Converted reception hall of a probably fourth-century Pope Vigilius CBCR, IV, pp. 37-
Julitae domus. 22m long and 12m wide. 50.
SS. Philippi et 556-74 Work started under Pelagius I and was completed under Popes Pelagius I and LP 62.3 & 63.1.
Iacobi John III. John III
S. Ermetis 579-90 Sixth-century transformation of a cemeterial basilica Pope Pelagius II LP 65.2; CBCR, I,
based in catacombs of St Basilla. pp. 195-208
St Laurence's (2) 579-90 New basilica ad corpus alongside the basilica maior. Pope Pelagius II LP 65.2; ICUR, II.1,
pp. 63, 106, 157.
Monasterium 579-90 Pope’s conversion of his residence. Pope Pelagius II LP 65.2.
Monasterium S. before 593 Monastery near the Lateran. Not clear if 'basilical' in the Not known. Gregory I,
Pancrati ad sixth century. Dialogues II.
Basilicam
Constantinianam

189
SS. Nerei et End of Construction of church on Via Ardeatina, if Not Known CBCR, III, pp. 135-
Achillei sixth/beginning distinguishable from John I's works. 42, 51-52.
of seventh
century

Xenodochium 'de before 590 Conversion of the residence. Silvia, mother of Gregory I, Ep. 1.42.
via nova' Gregory I.
Monasterium S. 594-604 Basilical monastery serving S. Pancrati. Pope Gregory I Gregory I, Ep. 4.18.
Victoris ad S.
Pancratium.
S. Agathae 594-604 Conversion of Ricimer's Arian Church Pope Gregory I LP 66.4.
Gothorum
S. Iohannis ('a c.554-c.600 Sixth-century conversion; probably for travellers, Byzantine CBCR, I, pp. 302-
Porta Latina') entering and leaving the city. administration. 16.
S. Mariae Antiquae no earlier than Conversion into a palace chapel. Not under the control of Narses or Byzantine CBCR, II, pp. 249-
564-76 the Roman Church in sixth century. administration. 68.10

(Oratory of the before 571 Building repurposed as private funerary chapel. Byzantine See Note.11
Forty Martyrs) administration or
city elite engaged in
commerce.
S. Caesarii after 554 Oratory. 'Somewhere within the Domus Augustana- Byzantine CBCR, I, p. 113;
Flavia'. administration. LTUR, 1.213.
Note.12
S. Mariae 'in late 6th century Theotokos Dedication. Later known as a diaconia. Byzantine aristocrat See Note.13
Domnica'. Dominica?
S. Mariae 'in Theotokos Dedication. Later known as a diaconia. Byzantine See Note.14
Aquiro' administration?
S. Mariae 'in Via late 6th century Theotokos Dedication. Later known as a diaconia. Byzantine See Note.15
Lata' administration?

190
 S. Mariae 'in late 6th century A late 6th century construction. Later a diaconia. Byzantine See Note.16
Cosmedin' administration?
S. Mariae 'in late 6th century Church and Monastery. Narses or Byzantine See Note.17
Capitolio' administration?
S. Theodori soon after 554 Dedicated to the most important military saint. Later Byzantine See Note.18
Diaconia. administration?

1
Baldovin, The Urban Character of Christian Worship, p. 108.
2
Camerlenghi, St Paul’s Outside the Walls, p.34.
3
Probably a contrived parity with St Peter’s as the churches were not the same size at the time.
4
Hellström, ‘On the Form and Function of Constantine’s Circiform Funerary Basilicas in Rome’.
5
For these references to the Liberian Catalogue, see Le Liber Pontificalis, p. 8.
6
Pietri attributed the foundation to Damasus. Roma Cristiana, I, 461 ff.
7
See page 131, n. 103 above.
8
Kinney 'Expanding the Christian Footprint', p. 70.
9
Maskarinec, City of Saints, pp. 101-2.
10
Moralee, Rome's Holy Mountain, pp. 87-88.
11
Moralee, Rome's Holy Mountain, p. 87.
12
Maskarinec, City of Saints, p. 56.
13
Coates-Stephens, ‘Byzantine Building Patronage’, pp. 158-64.
14
As Note 13.
15
As Note 13.
16
As Note 13.
17
Moralee, Rome's Holy Mountain, pp. 94-98.
18
As Note 13.

191
Table 4.2 Decoration, Additions, Alterations, Repairs (312-c.600)

Church / Location Date Works Carried Out Patron Sources

A. Period 312-476
First Sub-period (312-366)
St Peter's Font 324-37 Font of porphyry stone, porphyry column with golden basin, gold Emperor LP 34.13.
lamb, silver statues of the Saviour and John the Baptist. Constantine

S. Agnae 352-66 The decoration of tomb of Agnes with marble tablets. Pope Liberius LP 37.7.

Unknown 352-66 Provision of an apse in the fifth region of Rome. Pope Liberius Gesta Liberii, PL
8, col. 1393.
St Peter's c.359 Sarcophagus of Junius Bassus. Junius Bassus See Note.1
Second Sub-period (366-432)
S. Anastasiae 366-84 Decoration for apse. Pope Damasus ICUR, II.1, p. 24,
no. 25 and p.
150, no. 18.
S. Sebastiani 366-84 Platonia (large mausoleum). Pope Damasus LP 39.2.
St Peter's 366-84 Installation of Baptistry. Pope Damasus ICUR-NS, II, no.
4098.
St Peter's 366-84 Marble decoration, possibly at the baptistry. Pope Damasus ICUR-NS, II, no.
and aristocrat 4097.
Anastasia
Titulus Damasi 366-84? A baptistry. Pope Damasus? ICUR, II.1, p.
150, no. 19.
Cemeteries 366-84 Epigrams popularising sites of saints and martyrs. Pope Damasus Epigrammata

192
St Peter's 390-410 Sarcophagus of Sextus Petronius Probus in Mausoleum of the Anicia Faltonia ICUR-NS, II,
Anicii. Proba (widow) no. 4219.
St Laurence's 397-400 Decoration and restoration of building and mosaic/fresco in apse Presbyter See page 131,
Leopardus note 107.

S. Anastasiae 402-08 Installation of baptistry. Longinianus, ICUR, II.1, p. 24,

Urban Prefect no. 19; CBCR, I,
pp. 43-48, 62-63;
Brandenburg, pp.
134-36.

S. Agnae 401-17 Repair of Roof. Innocent I LP 42.7.

Pudentis (S. Pudentianae) 401-17 Marble revetment and paintings (related to construction). Presbyters De Rossi,
Leopardus, Musaici, 1899, p.
Illicius and 27.
Maximus
Catacomb of Hippolytus 401-17 Unspecified building/memoria. Presbyter Illicius ICUR, II.1, p. 57.
S. Sebastiani 401-17 Chancel screen? Presbyters ILCV, I, no.
Proclinus and 1776.
Ursus (of titulus
Byzanti)
St Laurence's 406 Sarcophagus of Licentius. CBCR, II, p. 8:
De Rossi, BAC,
I, 1863, pp. 6 ff.
St Laurence's 425/ 438 Sarcophagus of Flavius Magnus. CBCR, II, p. 9:
De Rossi, BAC,
I, 1863, pp. 14 ff.
Basilica Constantiniana 426-30 Decoration of apse? Flavius Felix and CBCR, V, p. 10;
Padusia ICUR, II.1, p.
(aristocrats) 149, no. 17.
Third Sub-period (432-76)
St Laurence's 432-40 Remodelling and redecoration of the confessio. Pope Sixtus III LP 46.5.
St Peter's 432-40 Decoration of the confessio. Pope Sixtus III LP 46.4.
193
S. Mariae 432-40 Font for baptistry. Pope Sixtus III LP 46.3.
Baptisterium (at the Lateran) 432-40 The setting up of 8 porphyry columns; project completed by Pope Sixtus III LP 46.7.
Hilarus?
Basilica Constantiniana 432-40 Construction of the silver Fastigium. Valentinian III LP 46.4.
St Peter's 432-40 Gold image with 12 portals, place over Peter's confessio. Valentinian III LP 46.4.
St Paul's 432-40 Construction of the confessio. Valentinian III LP 46.5.
S Marcelli 380-450 Baptistry. Not Known Brandenburg, pp.
164-65.
Basilica Constantiniana 440-61 Construction of apse-vault. Pope Leo I LP 47.6.
St Peter's 440-61 Renewal of basilica and apse-vault. Pope Leo I LP 47.6.
St Peter's 440-61 Mosaic on the eastern façade. Ex-Prefect ICUR-NS, II, no.
Marinianus and 4102.
wife Anastasia
S Paul's 440-61 42 frescoes of scenes from the Old and New Testaments. Pope Leo I / Note
Empress Galla
Placidia?
S Paul's 440-61 Repair after lightening. Pope Leo I / LP 47.6; ICUR-
Empress Galla NS, II, no. 4784.
Placidia?
Oratorium S. Iohannis 461-68 Construction of the confessio with silver, a gold cross and precious Pope Hilarus LP 48.2.
Baptistae (at Lateran stones.
Baptistry)
Oratorium Sanctae Crucis (at 461-68 Construction of the confessio with silver, a gold cross and precious Pope Hilarus LP 48.2-4.
Lateran Baptistry) stones. Also, silver doors, a gold arch supported by onyx columns
and gold lamb; fountain and triple porch, striped porphyry columns
and basin, decorated on all sides with mosaics and Aquitanian
Tripolitan, porphyry columns.

S. Anastasiae 461-68 Decoration of apse? Pope Hilarus and ICUR, II.1, p.24,
Severus and no. 25; CBCR, I,
Cassia pp. 43-48, 62-63.
(aristocrats?)

194
Salvatoris 462-70 Apse mosaic, part of the construction. Ricimer, ILCV, 1637;
Magister ICUR, II, 438.
Utriusqu Militiae
St Peter's 468-83 Construction of Porticos in the Atrium. Pope Simplicius ICUR-NS, II, no.
4104.
B. Decoration, Additions, Alterations, Repairs 476-c.600
St Laurence's 496-98 Construction of Confessio with silver (100 pounds). Pope Anastasius LP 52.1.
II
S. Agnae 498-514 Restoration of apse and basilica. Pope LP 53.10.
Symmachus
SS. Iohannis et Pauli 498-514 New staircase behind the apse. Pope LP 53.9.
Symmachus
S. Pancrati 498-514 Provision of a silver arch and the renovation of the cemetery. Pope LP 53.8;
Symmachus Laurentian
Fragment 52.15.
Cimiterium Iordanorum 498-514 Improvement of the cemetery. Pope LP, 53.11.
Symmachus
S. Felicitatis 498-514 Repair of church building liable to collapse. Pope LP 53.10.
Symmachus
S. Andreae (St Peter's) 498-514 A silver canopy, a confessio and 3 silver arches. Pope LP 53.6.
Symmachus
Oratorium S. Tomae 498-514 Construction of confessio with silver and silver arch. Pope LP 53.6.
Symmachus
Confessio S. Cassiani et SS. 498-514 Construction of confessio with silver, and a silver arch. Pope LP 53.6.
Proti and Yacinti Symmachus
Oratorium S. Apollinaris (S. 498-514 Construction of confessio with silver with silver arch. Pope LP 53.6.
Andreae) Symmachus
Oratorium S. Sossi (S. 498-514 Construction of confessio with silver. Pope LP 53.6.
Andreae) Symmachus
Oratotium Sanctae Crucis (St 498-514 Construction of confessio with silver. Pope LP 53.7.
Peter's font) Symmachus

195
Oratoria S. Iohannis 498-514 Construction of confessiones with silver and arches. Pope LP 53.7.
Evangelistae et Iohannis Symmachus
Baptistae (St Peter's font)
St Peter's 498-514 Decoration of basilica with marble; marble adornments at the Pope LP 53.7.
fountain; enclosure of atrium widening of steps; construction of Symmachus
episcopal rooms, two fountains; a convenience for people; steps to
S. Andreae.
S Paul's 498-514 Renewal of apse; provision of a picture behind and a silver image Pope LP 53.8.
above the confessio; construction of apse-vault, a matroneum, Symmachus
steps in front of basilica, and a bath; provision of water.
Installation of baptistry?
S. Agathae 498-514 Font with 2 silver arches — linked with construction. Pope LP, 53.8.
Symmachus
S. Pancratis 498-514 Silver arch and bath — part of the construction of basilica. Pope LP, 53.8.
Symmachus
S. Archangeli Michaelis 498-514 Enlargement of Basilica, building of steps, provision of water. Pope LP, 53.9.
Symmachus
SS. Silvestri et Martini 498-514 Silver canopy over altar — part of the construction of basilica. Pope LP, 53.9.
Symmachus
St Peter's after Repair of roof. Theoderic the Brick stamps?2
500? Great?
S. Mariae after Repair of roof. Theoderic the Brick stamps?3
500? Great?
St Peter's 514-23 Provision of beam covered in silver weighing 1040 pounds. Pope Hormisdas LP 54.10; ICUR-
NS, II, no. 4115.
S. Clementis 514-23 Altar and ciborium. Presbyter LTUR, I, 278.
Mercurius (later
Pope John II)
and co-priests
St Peter's 523-26 Continuation of work in the atrium. Pope John I ICUR-NS, II, no.
4116.

196
Cemetery SS. Nerei et Achillei 523-26 Rebuilding (refecit). Pope John I LP 55.7.
(Via Ardeatina),
Cemeteries SS. Felicis and 523-26 renovation (renovavit). LP 55.7.
Adaucti and S. Priscillae (both
Via Salaria)
S. Stephani in celio monte 523-530 Mosaics and marble revetment. Popes John I ICUR, II.1,
and/or Felix IV p.152, nos. 29
and 32; CBCR,
IV, pp. 199-240.
SS. Cosmae et Damianis 526-30 Apse Mosaic (and church furniture?) — part of conversion. Pope Felix IV ICUR, II.1: pp.
71, 134, 152;
ILCV, 1, no.
1784.
S. Saturnini (at cemetery of 526-30 Complete rebuilding of the church destroyed by fire. Pope Felix IV LP, 56.2.
Traso, Via Salaria Nova)
S. Clementis 533-35 Chancel screens of Carrara marble from Constantinople. Pope John II CBCR, I, p. 119:
De Rossi, BAC,
1870, p. 144.
S. Pudentis (S. Pudentianae) 536-7 Chancel Pergola? Presbyter Hilarus CBCR, III, p 280.

S. Marcelli probably Pavement of colourful mosaic tesserae with simple designs. Not known Brandenburg, pp.
6th 164-65.
century
S. Chrysogoni Sixth or Walling up doorways, erecting a side-room, creating choir Not known CBCR, I, p. 163.
seventh screens, possibly the confessio, and the rectangular bema.
century
S. Marci 6th Renovation. Not known. CBCR, II, p. 246.
century
Cemeteries' 561-74 Restotration (restauravit). John III LP 63.1.
St Peter's 579-90 Work on the altar (in altare). Pope Pelagius II ICUR-NS, II, no.
4117.
St Peter's 579-90 Panels over St Peter's body. Pope Pelagius II LP 65.2.
197
 S. Agathae Gothorum c.592 Mosaics and frescos — part of the conversion. Pope Gregory I CBCR, I, pp. 2-
12.
St Peter's 590-604 Structural arrangements for confessio. Silver canopy with 4 Pope Gregory I LP 66.4.
columns over the altar; gold decoration.
St Paul's 590-604 Structural arrangements for the confessio. Pope Gregory I LP 66.4.
St Paul's 590-604 Provision of lighting. Pope Gregory I Gregory I, Ep.
14.14.

1
Huskinson, Concordia Apostolorum, pp. 18-24 and 26.
2
Westall, ‘Theoderic Patron of the Churches of Rome?’, pp. 119-8.
3
As Note 2.

198
Table 4.3 Liturgical Furnishings and Vessels (312-c.600)

Donations Date Furnishings and Vessels Patrons Source

A. PERIOD 312-476
First Sub-period (312-366)
Basilica Constantiniana 312-37 1 silver fastigium with 50 gold dolphins and chains; 4 gold crowns with 20 dolphins; Emperor LP 34.9-11.
7 silver altars; 7 gold and 16 silver patens; 7 gold, 20 silver and 1 coral scyphi; 2 Constantine
gold and 20 silver amae; 40 gold and 50 silver chalices; 1 gold and 46 silver
chandeliers (1 with 20 dolphins); 40 silver lights; 25 silver chandeliers; 75 silver
candlestick chandeliers; 3 silver metretae and 7 brass candelabra.
St Peter's 324-29 Gold Cross (150 lbs) with inscription. Constantine LP 34.17;
and Helena ICUR-NS, II,
no. 4093
St Peter's 324-37 4 brass candelabra; 3 gold (with jewels) and 20 silver chalices; 2 silver metratae; 2 Emperor LP 34.18.
gold and 5 silver amae; 1 gold (with jewels) and 5 silver patens; 1 gold crown with Constantine
50 dolphins; 62 silver lights (32 with dolphins); 1 silver altar, chased with gold and
with jewels; 1 gold censer with 60 jewels.
St Paul's 312-337 1 gold cross (150 lbs). 'He placed and arranged all the sacred vessels of gold, silver Emperor LP 34.21.
and bronze…just as at St Peter's'. Constantine
Basilica in palatio 312-337 4 silver candelabra, 50 silver chandeliers, 1 gold and 3 silver scyphi, 5 gold and 10 Emperor LP 34.22.
sessoriano silver chalices, 1 silver paten chased with gold, 1 silver altar, 3 silver amae. Constantine
S. Agnae 312-337 1 gold and 2 silver patens, 1 gold and 5 chalices, 1 gold (with 30 dolphins) and 30 Emperor LP 34.23.
silver and 40 brass chandeliers, 40 brass candlesticks, 1 gold lantern. Constantine
St Laurence's 312-337 1 gold and 2 silver patens, 1 gold and 2 silver scyphi, 10 silver chalices, 2 silver Emperor LP 34.24.
amae, 30 silver lights, 1 metreta. Constantine
SS. Marcellini et Petri 312-337 3 gold and 2 silver patens, 2 gold and 5 silver scyphi, 4 silver candelabra, 1 gold Emperor LP 34.26-27.
crown, 3 gold and 20 silver chalices, 2 gold and 4 silver amae, 2 silver altars. Constantine
Titulus Equitii 314-25 2 silver scyphi, 1 gold chalice, 5 service chalices, 2 silver amae, 1 silver paten, 10 Pope Silvester LP 34.3.
crown and 20 bronze lights, 12 bronze candlestick chandeliers.

199
Titulus Equitii 312-337 1 silver paten, 1 silver ama, 2 silver scyphi, 10 silver chandeliers, 16 bronze Emperor LP 34.33.
candlestick chandeliers, 5 silver chalices. Constantine
Titulus Marci 336 1 silver paten, 2 silver amae, 1 silver scyphus, 3 silver chalices, 1 silver crown. Pope Marcus LP 35.4.

Titulus Callisti 337-52 No Information.

Basilica Julii 337-52 No Information.
S. Valentini 337-52 No Information.
Basilica Liberii 352-66 No Information.
Second Sub-period 366-432
Titulus S. Anastasiae 366-84? No Information
Titulus Damasi 366-84 1 silver paten, 1 silver ama, 1 scyphus, 5 silver service chalices, 5 silver crowns, 16 Damasus LP 39.4.
bronze candlestick chandeliers.
Titulus Fasciolae (SS. 366-84 No Information.
Nerei et Achillei)
Titulus Marcelli 380-450 No Information.
Titulus Pudentis (S. 387 or No Information.
Pudentianae) 390-
401/417.
Titulus Clementis (S. End of No Information.
Clementis) 4th
century
Titulus Crescentianae 399-402 No Information.
Titulus Vestinae 401-17 2 silver patens, 2 silver amae, 12 silver crowns, 1 silver chandelier, 4 silver Vestina LP 42.4-5.
candlesticks, 1 silver tower with paten. And for baptism: 1 silver stag, 1 silver (aristocrat)
vessel, 1 vessel, 2 patens, 1 silver scyphus, 5 silver chalices, 3 silver chalices, 1
silver basin, 16 bronze chandeliers, 20 bronze candlestick chandeliers.
Titulus Pammachii (SS. c.410 No Information.
Iohannis et Pauli)
Titulus Sabinae 425-32 No Information.
S. Petri in vinculis (1) 432-40 No Information.

200
Oratorium S. Felicitatis 418-22 1 silver paten, 1 silver scyphus, 1 silver ama, 2 silver chalices, 3 silver crowns. Pope Boniface LP 44.6.
St Peter's 422-32 1 silver chandelier, 24 silver candlesticks. Pope Celestine LP 45.2.
St Paul's 422-32 1 silver chandelier, 24 silver candlesticks. Pope Celestine LP 45.2.
Basilica Julii 422-32 1 silver paten, 2 silver scyphi, 2 silver amae, 5 silver chalices, 5 silver handbasins, 2 Pope Celestine LP 45.2.
silver candelabra, 24 bronze candlestick chandeliers, 10 silver crowns.
Third Sub-period (432-76)
S. Mariae 432-40 1 silver altar (300 pounds), 3 silver patens, 4 silver amae, 1 gold scyphus 5 silver Pope Sixtus III LP 46.3.
scyphi, 2 gold chalices, 10 silver service chalices, 1 silver handbasin, 1 silver crown
light, 34 silver crown lights, 4 silver candelabra, 1 silver censer, 24 brass candlestick
chandeliers. 1 silver stag, all sacred vessels for baptism.
St Laurence's 432-40 3 silver patens, 3 silver amae, 4 silver scyphi, 1 gold scyphi, 1 gold lantern, 12, silver Pope Sixtus III LP 46.6-7.
service chalices, 1 silver handbasin, 1 baptism service, 1 brass shell, 30 silver
crowns, 3 chandeliers, 2 silver candelabra, 24 bronze candlesticks, 60 bronze lights.
St Peter's 432-40 1 gold scyphus. Pope Sixtus III LP 46.7.
St Paul's 432-40 1 gold scyphus. Pope Sixtus III LP 46.7.
St Laurence's 432-40 1 gold scyphus and 15 gold chalices. Pope Sixtus III LP 46.7.
All Tituli 440-61 Replaced all consecrated silver services throughout all the tituli after the Vandal Pope Leo I LP 47.6.
disaster.
St Peter's 461-68 2 gold scyphi, 10 silver chalices, 2 silver amae, 24 chandeliers. Pope Hilarus LP 48.7.
St Paul's 461-68 2 gold scyphi, 4 silver scyphi, 10 (silver) service chalices, 2 silver amae. Pope Hilarus LP 48.8.

St Laurence's the martyr 461-68 1 gold and jewelled scyphus, 1 gold lantern, I gold scyphus, 2 gold lamps, I gold Pope Hilarus LP 48.9.
chandelier, I silver tower, 3 silver scyphi, 12 (silver) service chalices, 1 silver altar,
10 silver lamps, 2 silver amae,
St Laurence's 461-68 10 silver chandeliers, 26 bronze chandeliers, silver services for baptism and penance, Pope Hilarus LP 48.10.
50 bronze lights.
Basilica Constantiniana 461-68 10 silver chandeliers, 2 gold scyphi, 5 gold chalices, 5 silver scyphi, 20 silver service Pope Hilarus LP 48.6.
chalices, 5 silver amae.

201
Oratorium S. Iohannis 461-68 At the confessio, 1 silver crown, 1 chandelier; at the font, 1 gold lantern, 3 silver Pope Hilarus LP 48.5.
Baptistae (at the stags, 1 silver tower, 1 gold dove.
Lateran)
Oratorium S. Iohannis 461-68 At the confessio, 1 gold cross. Pope Hilarus LP 48.2.
Evangelistae (at the
Lateran)
Oratory S. Crucis (at the 461-68 At the confessio, 1 gold cross with jewels, 1 gold crown, 1 light with dolphins, 4, Pope Hilarus LP 48.3-4.
Lateran) gold lamps.
All Tituli (for services 461-68 1 gold scyphus, 25 silver scyphi for tituli, 25 amae, 50 (silver) service chalices. Pope Hilarus LP 48.11.
at stationes)
St Peter's 468-83 1 gold scyphus (here?), 16 silver chandeliers. Pope LP 49.5.
Simplicius
B. PERIOD 476-c.600
St Peter's 498-514 20 silver chandeliers, 22 silver arches. Pope LP 53.10.
Symmachus
Oratorium Sanctae 498-514 Cross of gold with jewels enclosing 'the Lord's wood'. Pope LP 53.7.
Crucis (St Peter's font) Symmachus
St Paul's 498-514 Silver image of the Saviour and the 12 apostles. Pope LP 53.8.
Symmachus
St Peter's? 514-23 Diadem with precious jewels. King Clovis LP 54.10.
St Peter's 519-23 Gospels with gold covers and precious jewels; 1 gold paten; 2 silver patens; 1 gold Emperor Justin LP 54.10.
scyphus with jewels; 1 gold scyphus with a diadem; 3 silver-gilt scyphi; I electrum
bowl; 2 gold wax chests; purple-dyed pallia with gold patches of cloth and imperial
vesture; 1 incense burner.
St Peter's 514-23 2 silver candlesticks King Theoderic LP 54.10.
Basilica Constantiniana 514-23 1 silver arch before the altar; 16 silver chandeliers. Pope LP 54.11.
Hormisdas
St Paul's 514-23 2 silver arches; 16 silver chandeliers; 3 silver amae; 6 silver scyphi (for stational Pope LP 54.11.
use). Hormisdas
‘Many basilicas' (per 514-23 different (diversa) gold and silver ornaments. Pope Cononian
multas basilicas) Hormisdas epitome 54,
Le LP, p. 100.

202
 St Peter's, St Paul's, St 523-26 1 gold paten with jewels, 1 gold chalice with jewels, 5 silver scyphi, 15 gold-worked Emperor Justin LP 55.7.
Laurence's, S. Mariae pallia. I but allocated
by Pope John I
St Peter's 523-26 Adornment of prase and jacinth jewels for the confessio. Not known LP 55.7.
St Peter's? 533-35 1 gold scyphus with prases and pearls; 4 silver chalices; 1 silver scyphi; 4 purple- Emperor LP 58.2.
dyed gold-worked pallia. Justinian
St Peter's 537-51 1 gold cross with jewels; 2 large silver-gilt candlesticks. Belisarius LP 61.2.
'All Churches' 556-61 Restoration of all gold and silver vessels and pallia. Pope Pelagius I LP 62.3.
St Peter's? 565-74 Cross of Justin II. Emperor Justin Note.1
II and Empress
Sophia
St Peter's 590-604 1 purple-dyed cloth over St Peter's body. Pope Gregory I LP 66.4.

1
A. McClanan, Representations of Early Byzantine Empresses, The New Middle Ages (New York, 2002).

203
Table 4.4 Church of Rome-Aristocratic Relations (476-c.600)

Date Event Facts bearing on Church of Rome-Aristocrats’ Interaction Sources and/or References

476 Letter from Pope Simplicius to Pope Simplicius used 'our sons' illustris vir Latinus and vir spectabilis CA 57.1.
Acacius. Madusius as messengers.
483 Basilius, praetorian prefect and The scriptura declared that an election of a pope was not to be Acta synhodorum habitarum
patrician, deputy (agens etiam celebrated without consulting the senate. Further, it declared under Romae, DII, 4. (p. 445).
vices) to Odoacer (praecellentissimi anathema that church property was not to be sold or given away. The
regis), issued a scriptura. scriptura was issued with the agreement of Pope Simplicius.
489 Pope Felix III's instruction to the Andromachus was to discuss with Acacius, archbishop of Gelasius, Ep. 10.7, Epistolae
senator Andromachus, Odoacer's Constantinople, a possible settlement of the Acacian schism. Romanorum Pontificum, p. 346;
envoy to Constantinople. 'Andromachus, who was copiously instructed by us … to encourage PLRE, IIA, p. 89.
Acacius to come to his senses …'
492-3? Gelasius's commoritorium to ex- Gelasius's letter is a brief for Faustus on what to say about the Gelasius, Ep. 10, Epistolae
consul Flavius Anicius Probus excommunication of Acacius, who had died. Romanorum Pontificum, pp.341-48;
Faustus Niger, leader of a senatorial PLRE, IIA, pp. 454-56.
embassy sent by Theoderic.
495 The Roman Synod under the The synod comprised 48 bishops and 65 priests. Two aristocrats, CA 103.
direction of Pope Gelasius re- Amandianus vir illustris and Diogenianus vir spectabilis, were in
instated Misenus. attendance.
492-96 Pope Gelasius’s letter against Gelasius criticised the annual aristocratic pagan practice. Andromachus CA 100.
Andromachus and others on was Pope Felix III’s intermediary in 489.
Lupercalia.
498- Laurentian Schism. Symmachus supported by senators led by the ex-consul Flavius LP 53.3-5; PLRE, IIA, pp.454-56
506/7 Anicius Probus Faustus Niger; Laurence by those led by Rufinus and 467-68 and IIB, pp. 909-10.
Postumius Festus and Petronius Probinus.
502 Roman Synod of 502: the scriptura The scriptura was declared invalid: no layman may declare anathema, Acta synhodorum habitarum
of 483 revisited. make decrees in the Church or determine anything concerning the Romae, DII, paras. 6, 8, 10. (pp.
wealth of the Church. 446-47).
512 Pope, clergy and Nobles discussed Meeting attended by Pope Symmachus, Boethius, and John (later Pope Boethius Tractate 5.
Acacian schism. John I) and clerics and nobles to discuss a letter of the Eastern bishops
about the Acacian schism.
204
 516 Pope Hormisdas’s embassy to the Delegates comprised Bishop Ennodius of Ticinum and Bishop CA 115, 116 (Indiculus), 116.b
emperor Anastasius that tried Fortunatus of Catina, Venantius, a priest of the city of Rome, Vitalis, a (Libellus), 124, 125, 126, 127; LP,
unsuccessfully to end the Acacian deacon and Hilarus, a notary of the apostolic see. On a second 54. 3 (second occasion).
schism. occasion, the delegates were Ennodius and Bishop Peregrinus of
Misenum.
518? Initial contact between Hormisdas Alexander vir spectabilis was bearer of the letter of congratulation CA 142,143, 147; PLRE, IIA, pp.
and the emperor Justin, following from the pope. Gratus vir spectabilis, sacri consistorii comes et 57 and 519.
the latter's accession. magister scrinii memoriae, was the emperor Justin's envoy.
519 Pope Hormisdas’s embassy to the Delegates comprised Bishop Germanus of Capua and Bishop John, CA 149, 150, 158 (Indiculus); LP
emperor Justin to end the Acacian Deacons Felix and Dioscorus of the apostolic see, the presbyter 54.5.
schism. Blandus and the notary Peter.
525-26? Pope John I sent to Constantinople Delegates other than John: Bishop Ecclesius of Ravenna, Eusebius of Anonymous Velasianus, 15.90; LP,
by Theoderic to plead for cessation Fanum Fortunae, Sabinus of Campania and 'two others'; also, the 55.2.
of the emperor Justin's anti-Arian senators and ex-consuls Theodore, Importunus and Agapetus, and
measures. (another) Agapetus, a patrician.
526 The senate accepted Theoderic's The senate may have made representations to Theoderic over the Cassiodorus, Variae, VIII.15.
decision on the appointment of disputed papal election of 530 (there was a vacancy of 58 days and the
Felix IV as pope. controversy may have lasted over three months) and senators may have
supported different candidates.
530 Senatus Consultum against election Senate's decree against bribery in papal elections. Cassiodorus, Variae, IX.15.
bribery.
530-32 Pope Boniface II destroyed Boniface destroyed the decree by fire in front of the confessio of St LP 57.3.
document nominating the deacon Peter in the presence of all the sacerdotes, clergy and the senate.
Vigilius as his successor.
534 Pope John II's acceptance of the The emperor Justinian sent Bishops Hypatius and Demetrius who also CA 84.
Theopaschite formula. carried John's reply.
534 Pope John II's letter to 11 members A letter sent by John II in response to questions concerning his John II, Ep. 2, PL 66, cols. 020-
of the Senate of Constantinople. acceptance of the theopaschite formula. 024.
536 Pope Agapetus sent to Five bishops and a large retinue (including aristocrats?). Baronius, Annales ecclesiastici, ad
Constantinople by king Theodahad annum, 536?
with aristocrats? to persuade
Justinian not to invade Italy.

205
Table 4.5 New Saint Cults in Rome in the Fifth and Sixth Centuries

New Saint Cults Location Date Patron Relics? Source

and Dedications
A. Papal and Other
Introductions
Mary S. Mariae Sixtus III Not clear for the fifth LP 46.3; CBCR,
century; the presepe was III, p. 6
known in the sixth?
Gervasius & Protasius Titulus Vestinae 401-17 Aristocrat Vestina Possibly.1 LP 42.3
Stephen (1) Basilica in Via Latina 440-61 Aristocrat Demetrias. Relic cavity under the LP 47. 1.
altar but original?

(2) Oratorium ad Baptisterium 461-68 Pope Hilarus Not known. LP, 48.12
Basilicae Constantinanae

(3) S. Stephani in celio monte 468-83 Emperors No. LP 49.1.

John the Baptist (1) Oratorium ad Baptisterium 461-68 Pope Hilarus Confessio. LP 48.2.
Basilicae Constantinanae

(2) Oratorium (at St Peter's) 498-514 Pope Symmachus Confessio. LP, 53.7

John the Evangelist (1) Oratorium ad Baptisterium 461-68 Pope Hilarus Confessio. LP 48.2
Basilicae Constantinanae

(2) Oratorium (at St Peter's) 498-514 Pope Symmachus Confessio. LP 53.7

206
Andrew the apostle (1) S. Andreae (Catabarbara) 468-83 Gothic general Valila Probably not. LP 49.1.
(aristocrat)
(2) S. Andreae (at St Peter's) 498-514 Pope Symmachus Confessio. LP 53.6.

Thomas the apostle Oratorium S. Tomae (S. Andreae) 498-514 Pope Symmachus Confessio. LP 53.6.

Apollinaris, first bishop Oratorium S. Apollinaris (S. 498-514 Pope Symmachus Confessio. LP 53.6.
of Ravenna Andreae)

Cassian of Imola Confessio S. Cassiani et SS. Proti and 498-514 Pope Symmachus Confessio. LP 53.6.
Yacinti
Sossius, deacon from S. Andreae (at St Peter's) 498-514 Pope Symmachus Confessio. LP 53.6.
Missenum (Campania)
Protus and Hyacinth (1) Cemetery of Bassilla on the Via Second half Burial place. Elogium of Protus
Salaria Vetus of fourth and Hyacinthus.
century
(2) Confessio S. Cassiani et SS. Proti 498-514 Pope Symmachus Confessio. LP 53.6: ICUR-
and Yacinti NS, II, no. 4106.

Martin of Tours SS. Silvestri et Martini 498-514 Pope Symmachus Not known. LP 53.9.
Agatha (1) Basilica in Via Aurelia 498-514 Pope Symmachus Not known. LP 53.8.

(2) S. Agathae Gothorum 590-604 Pope Gregory I Yes. SS. Agatha and Gregory I,
Sebastian. Dialogues, III.30.

Cosmas and Damian (1) Oratorium ad S. Mariam 498-514 Pope Symmachus Not known LP 53.9.

(2) SS. Cosmae et Damianis 526-30 Pope Felix IV Sixth-century altar with Extant altar in
fenestella: probable crypt.
contact relics?

207
Theodore SS. Cosmae et Damianis 526-30 Pope Felix IV Not known but Sixth- Mosaic.
century altar with
fenestella: probable
contact relics?
Cyricus and Julita SS. Cyrici et Julitae 537-45 Pope Vigilius? Probably nut not known.

Seven Maccabees SS. Apostolorum (S. Petri in vinculis) 556-61 or Pope Pelagius I or II Yes Goodson,
579-90 ‘Building for
Bodies’, p. 62.
Philip and James, SS. Philippi et Iacobi 556-74 Popes Pelagius I and Yes LP 62.3 and 63.1.
apostles John III

B. Byzantine Administration’s Introductions

Mary, Theotokos S. Maria Antiqua 565-78 Byzantine Not Known
administration or
Narses
S Maria 'in Domnica' 590-604 Byzantine Not Known
administration
S Maria 'in Aquiro' ? Byzantine Not Known
administration
S Maria in Via Lata 554-600 Byzantine Not Known
administration
S Maria 'in Cosmedin' late 6th Byzantine Not Known
century? administration
S. Maria' in Capitolio' late 6th Byzantine Not Known
century? administration or
Narses
S. Iohannis 'a Porta Latina' 550? Byzantine Not Known
administration

208
 Byzantine Not Known
administration
The Forty Martyrs of Oratorium 'of the Forty Martyrs' 554-600 Byzantine Not Known.
Sebaste administration
Caesarius Oratorium 'somewhere within the by time of Byzantine Possibly: Maskarinec,
Domus Augustana-Flavia' on Palatine Gregory I administration City of Saints, pp. 56, 61
Hill. (590-604) and 69-70.
Sergius and Bacchus SS. Sergii et Bacchi 590-604 Byzantine Not Known.
administration
Theodore S. Theodori later 6th Byzantine Not Known.
century? administration

1
Ambrose is known to have distributed relics. See Wiśniewski, The Beginnings of the Cult of Relics, p. 139.

209
Abbreviations

BAC Bulletino di archeologia cristiana

CBCR Corpus Basilicarum Christianarum Romae
CSEL Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum
ICLV Inscriptiones Latinae Christianae Veteres,
ICUR Inscriptiones Christianae Urbis Romae septimo saeculo antiquiores,
ICUR-NS Inscriptiones Christianae Urbis Romae septimo saeculo antiquiores: nova
series,
LTUR Lexicon Topographicum Urbis Romae
MGH Monumenta Germaniae Historica
PG Patrologia Graeca,
PL Patrologia Latina,
PLRE Prosopography of the Later Roman Empire

210
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Acta Synhodorum Habitarum Romae a CCCCXCVIIII, DI, DII in T. Mommsen (ed.),
Variae Cassiodori senatoris, Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Auctores Antiquissimi,
Vol. 12 (Berlin, 1894), pp. 399-455
Agnellus of Ravenna, The Book of the Pontiffs of the Church of Ravenna, Medieval Texts in
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