The monograph under review is a significant piece of scholarship. Besides endorsements by six notable scholars on the cover pages, Letteney’s book has already been noted by Sabrina Inowlocki in another recent review for BMCR (2024.06.08), in which it is mentioned as an immediate contribution to the growing field of studies on late antique knowledge production. A reviewer for another journal could simply not put it down, or stop thinking about it.[1] I also find myself somewhere on this positive side of the spectrum, but shall reserve further judgement until after the description of the work.
Letteney undertakes a rather fascinating scholarly inquiry: he seeks to uncover what Christianity ever did for Rome, arguing that Nicene Christians, particularly Athanasius of Alexandria, transformed scholastic culture beyond recognition. Their theological disputations led to new modes of argumentation and the creation of tools to authorise ‘scientific’ discourse, which came to be associated with ‘orthodox’ research. By the Theodosian age, argues Letteney, the Nicene approach dominated and was implemented at scale, even outside the domains of theological thinking. All the activity caused an epistemic shift, which in turn reshaped intellectual culture and helped to make Roman society ‘Christian’ at large. This rupture is identified by the author as so significant that it could be no less than the beginning of late antiquity itself.
All this makes for a great story. Letteney also tells it in an accessible and engaging fashion, which is rare in a book on arguments, apparatuses, marginalia, and other technicalities. The book begins with an introductory chapter explaining what is at stake, not least in terms of Letteney’s own, wide-ranging methodological considerations. The rest of the work is laid out in two parts, the first of which covers the agents engendering the scholastic methodology, whereas the second part explores a range of texts created by the methodology.
The first chapter of Part 1, ‘New readers’, charts the methods of making truth claims in antiquity, examining some selected pre-Nicene Christians——Ignatius, Justin Martyr, Irenaeus, Tertullian, and the Gospel of Truth—to illustrate that there was no set methodology in early Christianity before Nicaea. The second chapter investigates how a new method was engendered in the days of the Nicene controversy, particularly through the impetus of Constantine’s quest for unity and Athanasius’ inventive construction of a trio of tools to identify ‘orthodoxy’—aggregation, distillation, and promulgation. The third chapter then traces that particular method in Theodosian documents, exploring how it became an epistemic operation so pervasive that many Romans reacted to it (e.g. Ammianus Marcellinus) or adopted it (e.g. the Historia Augusta). This chapter presents some particularly compelling close readings of diverse aggregation strategies in Aulus Gellius, Macrobius, Martianus Capella, and the Theodosian Code. Taken together, the chapters of Part 1 make a case for a distinct version of Nicene knowledge production to have become the dominant trend by the end of the fourth century AD.
Part 2, ‘New texts’, changes tack. Its first three chapters adopt methods from manuscript studies to discern how the intellectual transformation manifested itself at material level. Chapter five focuses specifically on the codex and the Christian adoption of it as a means of transmitting knowledge. Chapter six, also labelled ‘New texts’, turns to manuscript evidence for evaluating the Nicene method of aggregation, introducing a range of textual tools in later Latin authors, such as Ambrose, Hilary, and Jerome. Chapter seven gets even more technical, as new scribal practices and explicitly ‘Christian’ tools of the trade, such as staurograms, are identified in Christian editions of traditional non-Christian texts. In this chapter Letteney marshals an impressive range of materials—inscriptions, manuscripts, papyri—which he handles with due care, consideration, and skill. It is a very persuasive contextualisation of how people approached books in new ‘Christian’ ways in the Theodosian age.
There are two additional chapter-length sections, one of which is integrated into Part 2, along with a brief general conclusion. The first treats the new meanings and implications of the Theodosian book culture. Letteney concludes that Roman readers simply thought differently about legitimizing facts at this time, which also made them critical of how knowledge was produced, even in cases when the Nicene method was deployed. This is an identification of the Ginzburgian cage, a metaphor presented in the introduction; for Carlo Ginzburg, knowledge production operates within a set of rules that define the boundaries within which that knowledge can be constructed, and so effectively ‘cages’ it. Letteney demonstrates that the Theodosians were aware of this cage, could engage with it and critique it, but not dispense with it. In my view, this chapter makes the strongest case for the conceptual and epistemic change Letteney sets out to detect in later Roman intellectual culture.
Instead of an epilogue, the last substantial section offers a case study of the Theodosian Code. Since close analyses of this text are interspersed throughout the book—an underpinning feature linking juristic and theological practice—the placement of such an extensive and fairly independent study may seem a little off at first. But it soon becomes clear that the case study actually demonstrates the benefit of Letteney’s efforts: readers have now been put in a position to analyse anew a range of authors, documents, texts, manuscripts, etc., in light of the epistemic shift, which will help us to gain a new understanding of it all. There is then scope for further investigation much beyond the Theodosian Code itself, one of the crowning achievements of late antique Roman law. Letteney is naturally fully aware of this potential and invites readers to venture along on the avenues opened up. Indeed, he explicitly encourages the testing of his ideas once readers have been through his work (p. 11). The openness to discussion is a positive trait and refreshing, for future scholars will no doubt want to engage with such an ambitious thesis as the one put forward in this book.
Of course, any attempt to create such a thoroughgoing scholarly narrative, however bold, lies open to questions. Perhaps I can raise a few individual points in this review. One is: how much ‘evidence’ is required to substantiate and illustrate an intellectual trend like the one Letteney seeks to identify? This is a big and general question, which is particularly pertinent when so much material from the ancient world is lost, and so charting ‘trends’ will remain a difficult task no matter the research project. I felt myself wondering about the quantification of trends, primarily in the chapter concerning the pre-Nicene Christians; the relatively low number of selected texts made the analysis feel too fragmented to substantiate the argument fully. I assume that Letteney may have wanted to supply readers with some early comparanda for his thesis, which I appreciate, but consideration of what is included would have been useful, also in later, more convincing chapters.
A closely related point pertains to definitions: there is currently a wider discussion of what constitutes an ancient intellectual in early Christian scholarship.[2] It might have been helpful to hear Letteney’s thoughts on that and cognate terms, since it would define what counts as ‘evidence’ for his thesis. As the book is written, the lack of selection criteria means that most materials from late antiquity would have made the cut. Letteney himself seems aware of this, as he calls on others to apply the fruits of his argument to wider and different sets of texts or manuscript cultures. But establishing some parameters for the discussion may result in a more focused debate going forward.
Lastly, a minor point on the premise of the book. The overarching narrative reads compellingly in itself, but the basis of it may also appear slightly too safe to be called adventurous. After all, the Theodosian period is normally associated with Christianisation. If all the Theodosians were predominantly Nicene, one would probably expect some manifestations of that Christianity, especially given the imperial priority given to that creed by the edicts and councils under Theodosius I (as early as 380). For comparison, it would have been more surprising, had the Nicene Theodosians reworked, say, specifically Arian modes of scholarship (if such a thing existed). Building a case on a secure platform does obviously not detract from the argument; the point is rather that one could have gotten to the core of the argument sooner.
On balance, there is much to be commended about Letteney’s monograph. It maintains a self-contained but field-widening argument, contains some rigorous analyses of key texts, integrates a range of appropriate scholarly methods for multiple media, pays attention to content, form, and function, and much else besides. Topics of contention are dealt with competently and graciously. There is considerable coverage even of tangential matters. The range on display is all the more impressive in a first book that deftly avoids the pitfalls common in such works. Letteney has a clear plan and delivers on his main promise, never straying too far from the central inquiry. The authorial voice is mature and judicious, guiding readers from start to finish. Scholars of late antiquity, knowledge production, Christianisation, Roman law, and many other topics will find much food for thought. In short, the book is as advertised.
Notes
[1] Benson, Todd, “Review of Letteney’s Christianization”, Journal of Early Christian Studies 32.2, 2024, pp. 303-305, p. 305.
[2] See e.g., Peter Gemeinhardt’s review of Lewis Ayres and H. Clifton Ward (eds.): The Rise of the Early Christian Intellectual, Berlin: De Gruyter 2020, in: Sehepunkte 21 (2021), Nr. 3 [15.03.2021]. Neither reference is found in the book’s bibliography.