My Thoughts on the Late Antique Holy Man

During my third-year special subject module on sixth-century Merovingian Gaul , I encountered the Late Antique holy man. In this post, I aim to discuss some of the scholarship around this type of religious person. In particular, I will raise my personal thoughts and some of the issues that I believe still need to be addressed.

To understand the contemporary debate around the Late Antique holy man, one first needs to take into account the importance of Peter Brown’s scholarly contributions on the topic. In his 1971 article The Rise and Function of the Holy Man in Late Antiquity, Brown noted scholars had previously provided three main explanations for the emergence of this religious and miraculous figure. Firstly, some have argued the holy man arose as the product of the oppression and conflict found in Eastern Roman society, in particular among the lower classes. Secondly, by looking at ascetic literature, others had demonstrated the feelings and emotions the holy man could arouse. Finally, the holy man could also be seen to represent the dilution of the ‘enlightened’ ideas of the elites among the masses.

Brown provided an alternative answer to the holy man. In particular, he used the context of Late Antique Syria for his explanation. Particular factors allowed the emergence of a religious figure that could act as a mediator or patron for rural settlements. For example, peasant life in Syria was seasonal and fluid; allowing news of a holy man to spread quickly. In turn, this increased his following. Meanwhile, the fact that the desert in Syria was closer to settlement, meant that holy men could live like ‘true’ hermits. In the harsher conditions of Egypt, one would have been forced to take on some of the habits of urban areas, but this was not necessarily the case in Syria. Furthermore, many villages in fourth and fifth century Syria were going through a crisis of leadership due to increased prosperity in rural life.

Within this context, rural Syrian villages were in need of a patron. As Brown puts it ‘villagers needed a hinge-man, a man who belonged to the outside world’; one who could place his know-how, cultures and values at the disposal of a settlement. The holy man could perform numerous functions, including mediating between disputes and acting as a platform to express religious anxieties. Therefore, a rough definition of the Late Antique holy man might allude to individuals who acted as a mediators or patrons for settlements through the language of religion and miracle.

While Brown puts emphasis on Syria for their origin, holy men were also found elsewhere in the Late Antique world. At this point, it is necessary to introduce another issue; were holy men different in the Western Mediterranean in contrast to the Eastern Mediterranean? One of the most common ideas is that holy men tended to be dead when performing their functions in the West, but in the East they were generally alive. For example, Corbett when applying Brown’s ideas to Merovingian Gaul almost exclusively focuses on the cults of dead saints. On the other hand, some scholars have been keen to undermine the East/West binary regarding holy men. Petersen notes ‘a rigid distinction cannot be drawn between the living holy man as healer in Eastern Christendom and the dead man healing from his tomb in the West’. Brown, himself, comments on the more general issue of seeing the East and Western Mediterranean as separate from each other; ‘nothing has done more to handicap our understanding of Mediterranean history in the medieval period than the tendency of scholars to treat Byzantium as a world apart’. Yet, when reading these, I still sense there is a sense of hesitation when trying to reduce or dismiss any differences. Petersen, for example, still states that in Gregory of Tours’ Life of the Fathers , the living holy man still takes second place. Therefore, while a range of scholarship has addressed this issue quite in depth, I feel there is a need for further discussion.

However, even if we understand that holy men, dead or alive, played an important role with regards to patronage and mediation in Late Antique communities, we are still left with another question. How did holy men perform their function? The most persuasive models take an anthropological and psychosomatic approach. By using these terms I mean several things. Brown provides a useful example, the idea of an individual being possessed is a way of understanding and communicating social disruptive behaviour through the language of religion. Van Dam has done some of the most significant work, for him ‘in Merovingian Gaul, people’s attitudes towards diseases were intimately concerned with community and individual’s values as with physical sickness and disability’. Therefore, if a person became ill, they may have or may not have a illness in reality, but they and their community certainly thought they did have one. An individual with an illness was likely excluded from society until a holy man reintegrated them through a healing.

I feel approaches like these can explain a lot, but certainly not all instances of healings or actions carried out by holy men. I will now raise some of the issues I have with models like these. Firstly, I find it problematic how easily the actual physical healings are often casually dismissed. Corbett states that many of the deeds in Gregory of Tours’ works do not have a miraculous element, while scholars like Van Dam allow room for the role of medicines and herbs contemporary to Late Antiquity. Therefore, when Monegundis in the Life of the Fathers heals a boy with poisonous snakes within him, by pressing a leaf with saliva on against his belly, I may be willing to accept that the boy may have genuinely been healed using traditional techniques (whether the use of ‘snakes’ is a just a textual metaphor used by Gregory or how the illness was genuinely experienced is another question). However, I find it more difficult to accept physical healings which do not have a known medical solution today. For example, those curing blindness or severe paralysis. Maybe, I am overthinking or burdened with presentism and the trappings of modernity, but I feel there is a still a need to address healings like these without resorting to the cynical ‘they just made it up’ attitude. Van Dam does emphasise his discussion ‘is not directly concerned with sickness and disability as physical afflictions’, but I still feel we cannot simply ignore the physical aspect of healings carried out by holy men.

Holy men also acted as mediators or patrons in other ways. Rapp has noted that Brown also developed the notion of the holy man as an exemplar or role model and as an intercessor in the heart of a community in which social ties are understood in terms of spiritual kinship. Hayward is more cynical about the impact of holy men on communities. For example. he argues that the idea of holy man as an exemplar is usually a literary topos. Texts, according to Hayward, rarely offer any idea of how an individual is supposed to imitate them. This criticism has a degree of strength, but I still personally think there is still a lot to gain by taking a more anthropological approach.The role of the holy man in Gallic and other Late Antique communities was of major importance in terms of maintaining or creating harmony. This can firstly be seen by some of the discussion above. However, I think the social role of the holy man can be expanded a bit further and perhaps even linked to Halsall’s work on the life cycle and social organisation in Merovingian Gaul. He describes grave goods as symbolic ‘texts’ through which information can be transferred, with their importance increased if a death caused a particularly break in social cohesion.. If we accept that the holy man had an important role in local communities as well, we can at least make tentative connections between the wider literature on Late Antique social organisation and the scholarship on holy men.

Several examples from Gregory of Tours’ writings can be used to support this idea. I use the term ‘rupture’ here to denote any time a community’s harmony is threatened, which is usually through a defiance of social norm or a breakage in the life cycle. In The Life of the Fathers, social tension emerges when Nicetius’ will is read out aloud in public. A priest swells with rage because Nicetius left nothing to the church in the place where he was buried. However, Nicetius appears and criticises the priest and in turn he receives a swollen throat. In this instance, a death or more precisely a will caused disharmony, but the idea of the cult of saints and its psychosomatic effect helped to resolve tension caused by these events. In the Histories, a relative of Guntram Boso’s wife dies childless (again an event which was threatening). The relative is buried with treasure and also placed in a church near Metz, the latter and its associated ‘holy man’ offers protection when servants of Boso tries to steal treasure from the burial.

However, the ability of holy men, alive or dead, to smooth tensions should not just be restricted to death. Monegundis is as ever a useful example to illustrate how social ruptures could be negotiated through the concept of the holy person. Monegundis, following the death of her children, effectively transgresses a number of boundaries. She abandons her husband, relations and friends. If someone defies social norms, Gregory is not bothered, so long as they go onto perform holy or miraculous acts. Monegundis’ acts are not as harmful to the community as they could have been because of her sanctity. Leobardus offers another case where being holy could paint over instances which otherwise would be socially disruptive. At the age of legal majority and following custom, he is betrothed, but once his parents pass away he abandons the world in order to serve God. It is critical to emphasise here that Leobardus is effectively abandoning an alliance, likely created to manage relations within a particular community. By becoming holy, an excuse is effectively created by those involved, but also by Gregory for his later purposes. This excuse helps to mend any harm that might have been done. By noting down these thoughts, I do not aim to offer a complete model with rules and regulations. Instead, I am simply stating my belief that more needs to be done to link the concept of the holy man to other factors affecting social organisation in Merovingian Gaul and the rest of the Late Antique world.

This post has summarised some of the key issues regarding holy men in Late Antiquity. However, there is still a lot of room for further discussion and I have stated some of the directions it could follow.

Bibliography:

Primary Sources:

Gregory of Tours, Histories translated by Lewis Thorpe in The History of the Franks. London: Penguin, 1974.

Gregory of Tours, The Life of the Fathers translated by Edward James in Gregory of Tours: Life of the Fathers. Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 1998.

Secondary Sources:

Brown, Peter. Society and the Holy in Late Antiquity. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1989.

Brown, Peter. “The Rise and Function of the Holy Man in Late Antiquity.” The Journal of Roman Studies 61 (1971): 80-101.

Corbett, John H. “Praesentium signorum munera: The Cult of the Saints in the World of Gregory of Tours.” Florilegium 5 (1983): 44-61.

———. “The Saint as Patron in the Work of Gregory of Tours.” Journal of Medieval History 7, no. 1 (1981/01/01 1981): 1-13.

Halsall, Guy. Cemeteries and Society in Merovingian Gaul : Selected Studies in History and Archaelogy, 1992-2009. Leiden: Brill, 2010.

Hayward, Paul. “Demystifying the Role of Sanctity in Western Christendom” in The Cult of Saints in Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages: Essays on the Contribution of Peter Brown, edited by James Howard-Johnson and Paul Hayward, 115-142. Oxford: Oxford University, 1999.

Petersen, Joan M. “Dead or Alive? The Holy Man as Healer in East and West in the Late Sixth Century.” Journal of Medieval History 9, no. 2 (1983): 91-98.

Rapp, Claudia. “For next to God, you are my salvation’: Reflections on the Rise of the Holy Man in Late Antiquity” in The Cult of Saints in Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages: Essays on the Contribution of Peter Brown, edited by James Howard-Johnson and Paul Hayward, 63-82. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999.


Medieval Metahistory: Applying Hayden White to Bede and Paul the Deacon

This post contains my first serious attempt of applying the philosophy of history to an undergraduate essay question. The title was ‘how appropriate is it to characterize the Barbarian histories you have studied as national records? Discuss using two or three examples.’ My response to this was to identify the difference between a ‘history’ and a ‘record’ and then use the ideas of Hayden White to more fully address the question. This essay was written during the Autumn of second-year, a time where I was deeply interested in the works of Hayden White. My views on his ideas have shifted a lot since then, but this essay marked an important transition for me, in terms of how I began to bring thoughts, that initially may appear semi-disparate, together.

It is inappropriate to characterise Barbarian histories as national records because there is a difference between a ‘record’ and a ‘history’. A ‘record’ is a statement of fact, like an event happening. ‘History’ goes beyond this by having interpretation and narration. My assertion is the ‘national’ element in Barbarian texts occurs on the interpretative level and it is impossible for a record by itself to have any ‘national’ meaning beyond how the historian interprets it. I argue that medieval historians similarly to modern historians went through the process outlined in Hayden White’s Metahistory: The Historical Imagination in Nineteenth-Century Europe (1973) of turning the unprocessed historical record into a comprehensible form. This will be done by examining Bede’s Ecclesiastical History (731) and Paul the Deacon’s History of the Lombards (787-796). Firstly, by showing how records or factual statements in these texts by themselves cannot be termed ‘national’. I then show how the authors’ interpretation was shaped by their sources and personal circumstances, affecting how they changed records into a form with a ‘national’ point of view. Finally, I ask how do Bede and Paul give meaning to their works or how do their works become ‘national’? This argument requires us to define ‘national’, it forms a major part of it. This has never been easy for the modern scholar and it brings many presumptions. As Bede and Paul had very different ideas regarding what a nation was, I aim to keep my definition fairly flexible. However, some clarity is necessary and in the context of this discussion it refers to a perception of shared heritage based on factors like ethnicity, customs and kingship.

Paul the Deacon’s History of the Lombards is not a ‘national’ record it goes beyond stating facts. A passage from Book 1, Chapter XIV as proves this. Paul states ‘Meanwhile, the leaders Ibor and Aio, who had conducted the Langobards from Scandinavia and had ruled then up to this time, being dead, the Langobards unwilling to remain longer under mere chiefs (dukes) ordained a king for themselves like other nations. Therefore, Agelund the son of Aio first reigned over them.’ This passage is split into both record and interpretation. The passing of Ibor and Aio and the election of Agelund as King are facts and as such these statements are a record of events. However, Paul goes beyond this by making decisions about the events. He states that the decision to ordain a king was made because they were no longer willing to remains chiefs and wanted a king like other nations. It is with this part of the passage that Paul is making an interpretation of events and so it begins to constitute a history rather than a record. It suggests he believes kingship and nationhood are closely related. Therefore, the association with nationality only enters on the historical level of the text.

Bullough has argued that parts of Book III of Paul’s History are like the Chronicles written by Marius of Aventicum, also highlighting that the entirety of two chapters are Pope Gregory I’s letters to Queen Theudelina, King Agiulf and Archis of Benevento. This suggests that portions of Paul’s History are simply records, without interpretation. I do not argue that the History of the Lombards is structurally consistent, however it is impossible to deny it does have interpretation as shown above. The inclusion of these sources show us how Paul went through a process similar to modern historians of making sense and giving meaning to any records or events he could establish from them. When Paul’s History does change format, like in Book III, it does not become a record. He is instead showing the sources from which he derived his interpretations in the rest of the book, believing they support the conclusions he is making

Bede’s Ecclesiastical History is similar to Paul’s History as it goes beyond statements that can be proven true and false by having interpretation and therefore cannot be termed a national ‘record’. This is seen in Book 1 where he describes Ethelfrid, King of the Northumbrians and his campaigns against the Irish. In this several points can be established or disproven. Whether Ethelfrid overran a greater area than any other ealdorman or King and whether he exterminated or enslaved the inhabitants. However, Bede interprets these events stating that ‘he ravaged the Britons more cruelly than all other English leaders’ and ‘of course he was ignorant of true religion’. Once again, it is when Bede tries to explain the events and therefore write history, that the text acquires ‘national’ characteristics. This is done by showing how Englishness is defined by the faith. By acting cruelly, Ethelrid is deviating from religious norms and therefore is different from other English rulers.

Some may argue comparing Bede and Paul the Deacon to the process modern historians go through, transforming record into history, is anachronistic. It is true they did not write with the empirical concerns of the historical discipline that developed in the nineteenth century. However, this is not a problem. White himself stated that before the nineteenth century that history was primarily rhetorical rather than empirical, but also noted the importance ‘truth’ still had in rhetoric. Rather the difference was in the way they treated their sources. Roger Ray has persuasively argued that Bede respected truth, but left responsibility for it to his sources. Naturally, Bede and Paul did not look at their sources through the lens of modern source criticism. However, they still went through the process that the modern historian goes through of trying to explain what the sources are telling them. Simply, Bede and Paul’s interpretations were more significantly influenced by the presumptions they brought to their sources, which often meant that their histories had ‘national’ characteristics.

Bede’s transformation of records into ‘national’ history was influenced by the sources he interpreted. Kirby argues Bede’s world view was shaped by the monasteries he was in contact with. Higham has also shown the importance of oral sources. I build on this by arguing they shaped the ‘national’ characteristics of his history. Bede’s preface lists his sources detailing the wide number of clergymen he obtained oral history from, like Bishop Daniel of the West Saxons and from the Church of Canterbury. From a wide geographic area they clearly show how Bede in Northumbria was connected to large parts of England. However, the connections were entirely through religious institutions. As shown Bede, closely connects Englishness to the ‘true’ Catholic faith. Consequently, he gained from his sources a viewpoint which emphasises the unity of England through its faith. This interpretation does not reflect reality. There were large numbers of British people living in Bernicia when the text was composed. However, this is missed because Bede’s oral sources are only Catholic and based off his religious network.

Bede consulted many written texts while writing and these likewise shaped the national characteristics of his history. Scholars have noted the influence of Church histories and the Church fathers on Bede. Markus highlighted the particular influence of Eusebius’s Universal History. These texts again presented Bede with a theme of unity through faith, linking back to the idea that this is what unites the English.

Paul the Deacon’s transformation of record into ‘national’ history was affected by the personal circumstances he wrote in. I have avoided discussing the ethnogenesis debate regarding early medieval ethnicity as I have been concerned with how Bede and Paul made national interpretations rather than if they contain evidence of ethnicity, which the debate centres on. However, when trying to understand how Paul makes a ‘national’ interpretation it becomes important. The Vienna School would look for identity forming processes in Paul. Goffart argues that Paul’s History was written within a specific literary context to encourage Grimoald III of Benevento to cultivate good relations with the Franks and this explains the national element in it. These are not contrary when explaining how Paul’s interpretation of the past had national characteristics.

Following the Carolingian conquest, not all Lombard elites were excluded from power. Paul the Deacon therefore wrote in a context where two traditions of government co-existed. Therefore, while Mckitterick and Goffart have highlighted the importance of encouraging co-existence with the Franks. I argue they do not contradict with the idea that ‘national’ identity forming processes are present in Paul. This is because he associates nationality with kingship and therefore government. Likewise, for the Vienna School the presence of these processes is still influenced by Paul’s specific context following the conquest. Therefore, when Paul is transforming records into ‘national’ history he is shaped both by the context he wrote in and current ideas in Lombard society regarding nationality.

So far, I have discussed how Bede and Paul texts only become ‘national’ on the historical level and how their sources and personal circumstances shaped them. Now, I will explain how they approach the question ‘what does their work add up to?’ or ‘what does it mean?’. White posited this could be seen by three forms of explanation: the different types of plots, arguments and ideologies found in historical works. These cannot be applied to medieval texts without adaptation, nevertheless they are still useful when trying to understand how Paul and Bede explained their national interpretations.

Bede explained making the English ‘nation’ parallel to the Catholic Church in Britain, by making the English God’s assigned people in reconciling the rest of Britain and its Celtic Christianity with the true faith. Book 1 states that Britain despite having multiple languages it is united by the fifth Latin and its search for God’s truth. Bede also uses Gildas as a source describing the chaos before the English were converted, but notes ‘God did not abandon the people, he had chosen the English’. My assertion is that we can understand how Bede explained the meaning of the national characteristics of his work by comparing them to some of White’s forms of explanation. It has a comic plot in that the British and Catholic Church are reconciled through the English. To White this plot represented a temporary reconciliation of opposing forces for which society is better. A formist argument is integrative and sees historical units as part of a greater whole. I argue Bede’s History is also integrative when regarding religion and the English are again the main cause behind this. Bede’s ideology is equivalent to White’s ideology of ‘Conservatism’ in that he views the Church at the best current state it can be, within the limitations of the Fall due to the English’s role as God’s chosen people.

Paul explained the ‘national’ characteristics of his work through exploring the relationship between the Lombards and Kingship. According to White a mechanistic argument is reductive and look for single laws that govern history. Paul’s History is like this because it ties the fate of the Lombards directly to the monarchy, the nation and king are the same. Consequently, Paul’s plot is tragic, as the Lombard monarchy is conquered by the Carolingians, but temporary reconciliation is achieved through the persistence of Lombard elites. His ideology is like Bede and is Conservative because it is unrealistic for the Lombard nation to return to its former glory and it must accept its current situation under the Carolingians.

Modern historians often separate themselves from their medieval counterparts, due to scepticism over the truthfulness of their aims. However, this essay has shown in many ways they went through a similar process. As I have shown Bede and Paul’s texts were not ‘national’ on the level of record, but when they went through the process of interpreting and making judgements about their data, they were going through similar motions to what a modern historian does. History prior to the nineteenth century was not identical to the discipline that developed thereafter. However, I do believe that by comparing the process of historical writing, we as historians do every day, to those in the past, may help us understand our medieval counterparts more and how they transformed unprocessed records into ‘national’ histories.

Bibliography:

Primary Sources:

Bede, Historia Ecclesiastica (731) translated by Leo Sherley-Price in Ecclesiastical History of the English People. Penguin: London, 1990.

Paul the Deacon, Historia Langobardorum (787-796) translated by William D. Fulke in History of the Lombards. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1974

Secondary Sources:

Bullough, Donald. “Ethnic History and the Carolingians: An Alternative Reading of Paul the Deacon.” In The Inheritance of Historiography, 350-900, edited by Christopher. J. Holdsworth and Timothy P. Wiseman, 85-106. Exeter: University of Exeter, 1986.

Cowdrey, Herbert Edward John. “Bede and the ‘English People’.” Journal of Religious History 11, no. 4 (1981): 501-23.

Gillett, Andrew. “Ethnogenesis: A Contested Model of Early Medieval Europe.” History Compass 4, no. 2 (2006): 241-60.

Goffart, Walter. A. The Narrators of Barbarian History (A.D. 550-800): Jordanes, Gregory of Tours, Bede, and Paul the Deacon.  New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1988.

Higham, N. J. Bede as an Oral Historian. Newcastle: Bealim Signs, 2011.

Kirby, David. “Bede’s Native Sources for the Historia Ecclesiastica.”Bulletin of the John Rylands Library 48 (1966): 341-371.

Markus, Robert A. Bede and the Tradition of Ecclesiastical Historiography. Jarrow on Tyne: St Paul’s Rectory, 1975.

McKitterick, Rosamond. “Paul the Deacon and the Franks.” Early Medieval Europe 8, no. 3 (1999): 319-39.

Pohl, Walter. “Gens ipsa peribit. Kingdom and Identity After the End of Lombard Rule.” In 774, ipotesi su una transizione: Atti del seminario di Poggibonsi, 16-18 febbraio 2006, 67-78. Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 2008.

Ray, Roger. “Bede’s Vera Lex Historiae.” Speculum 55, no. 1 (1980): 1-21.

———. “Who Did Bede Think He Was?”. In Innovation and Tradition in the Writings of the Venerable Bede, edited by Scott DeGregorio, 11-37. Morgantown: West Virginia University Press, 2006.

White, Hayden. Metahistory: The Historical Imagination in Nineteenth-century Europe.  Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1973.

———. Tropics of Discourse: Essays in Cultural Criticism.  Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1978.