Letters, mobility, and the fall of the Roman Empire

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Letters,
Mobility,
and
the
Fall
of
the
Roman
Empire

Author:
Patrick
Wyman

Program:
The
Graduate
School
(History)

Degree:
Doctor
of
Philosophy

University
of
Southern
California

Degree
Conferral
Date:
August
9,
2016

ii

Table
of
Contents

List
of
Tables
and
Maps

iii

Introduction

1

Chapter
1:
Letters
as
a
Source
Base

46

Chapter
2:
The
Gallo-‐Roman
Epistolographers
and
the
Imposition
of

83

New
Political
Borders

Chapter
3:
Kings,
Bishops,
and
Official
Letters

112

Chapter
4:
Letter-‐Carriers
in
the
Late
Antique
West

147

Chapter
5:
Places,
Routes,
and
Regions
in
Late
Antiquity

183

Conclusion

229

References

238

iii

List
of
Tables
and
Maps

Tables

Table
1:
The
individual
collections
that
make
up
the
database

5

Table
2:
Strength
of
identification
of
origin
and
destination

7

Table
3:
The
smaller
collections

58

Table
4:
Papal
letters
from
Leo
the
Great
to
Gregory
the
Great

59

Table
5:
Diplomatic
letters
by
collection

121

Table
6:
Letter-‐carriers
by
collection

150

Table
7:
Letter-‐carriers
by
occupation

181

Table
8:
Letters
sent
to
Arles
and
Marseille
by
collection

204

Table
9:
Letters
sent
to
Rome
by
collection

215

Table
10:
Letters
sent
to
Constantinople
by
collection

224

Maps

Map
1:
Gregory’s
Italy

72

Map
2:
The
courier’s
journey
from
Sidonius
to
Apollinaris

86

Map
3:
The
distribution
of
Ruricius’s
letters

95

Map
4:
A
speculative
reconstruction
of
Senarius’s
journey

118

Map
5:
Gregory’s
correspondence
within
Italy

144

Map
6:
Correspondence
in
Iberia

187

Map
7:
Correspondence
in
North
Africa

192

Map
8:
Correspondence
in
northern
Gaul

197

Map
9:
Correspondence
in
the
southern
half
of
Gaul

201

Map
10:
Correspondence
in
northern
Italy

209

Map
11:
Correspondence
in
central
Italy

214

Map
12:
Correspondence
in
southern
Italy
and
Sicily

219

Map
13:
Correspondence
in
the
Balkans

221

Map
14:
Correspondence
in
the
Balkans,
Greece,
and
Constantinople

226

iv

1

Introduction

Around
the
year
507,
Emetrius,
the
brother
of
Bishop
Eufrasius
of
Clermont,

set
out
from
his
sibling’s
see
toward
Lyon.
He
carried
in
his
hands
a
letter
of

recommendation
from
his
brother
addressed
to
Bishop
Avitus
of
Vienne.
The
five-‐
day
journey
carried
him
along
the
well-‐worn
path
of
the
section
of
the
Via
Agrippa,

by
then
nearly
six
centuries
old,
that
connected
Lyon
to
Saintes
on
the
Atlantic
coast.

Avitus
was,
by
his
account,
quite
happy
to
receive
Emetrius,
and
sent
him
back
the

other
direction
with
a
book
of
poetry
Avitus
had
written
and
a
clutch
of
letters
for

both
Bishop
Eufrasius
and
Avitus’
kinsman
Apollinaris,
a
fellow
resident
of
Clermont

and
the
son
of
the
great
Sidonius.
1

This
single
incident
provides
great
insight
into
the
world
of
its
author,

recipient
and
courier.
The
route
the
letters
took
from
origin
to
destination
is
clear,

and
reveals
the
near-‐certain
use
of
a
particular
stretch
of
road.
The
back
and
forth

between
a
pair
of
bishops
speaks
to
both
ecclesiastical
and
personal
connections

between
the
Visigothic
and
Burgundian
kingdoms
as
well
as
the
existence
of
ties

between
members
of
the
social
elite.
While
the
correspondence
does
not
state

exactly
what
Emetrius
was
doing
in
Lyon,
the
importance
of
recommendations
in

this
social
milieu
comes
through
clearly
in
Avitus’
enthusiastic
reception
of
his

fellow
bishop’s
brother.
We
learn
that
Emetrius,
who
traveled
to
Lyon
with
some

business
to
attend
to,
also
served
as
a
bearer
of
letters,
and
that
the
transmission
of

1

Avitus
43.
Rudolf
Peiper
(ed.),
Alcimi
Ecdicii
Aviti
Viennensis
piscopi
Opera
quae

supersunt,
MGH
AA
6.2,
Berlin:
Weidmanns,
1888;
Danuta
Shanzer
and
Ian
Wood

(eds.),
Avitus
of
Vienne:
Letters
and
Selected
Prose,
Liverpool:
Liverpool
University

Press,
2002.
The
letter
of
recommendation
from
Eufrasius
to
Avitus
is
no
longer

extant,
but
Avitus’
reply
to
Eufrasius
and
the
letter
to
Apollinaris
mentioned
in
it
are

(Epistula
51).
Travel
time
estimate
via
ORBIS
(http://orbis.stanford.edu).

2

these
documents
fit
neatly
into
an
already
extant
world
of
travelers
and
mobile

people.
Finally,
the
letter
demonstrates
that
literary
works
circulated
among
the

same
social
networks
that
produced
work
opportunities
for
people
like
Emetrius

and
which
also
served
as
the
glue
of
ecclesiastical
relationships.

Emetrius’
trip
from
Clermont
to
Lyon
and
back
again
with
a
packet
of

correspondence
in
hand
in
both
directions
was
not
a
rare
occurrence.
Thousands
of

Latin-‐language
letters
survive
from
the
period
between
450
and
650
in
what
had

been
the
western
half
of
the
Roman
Empire,
each
of
which
a
courier
carried
over
a

particular
route
along
roads,
rivers,
and
open
water.
Bishops,
popes,
administrators,

kings,
and
aristocrats
partook
of
the
genre
in
dozens
and
hundreds,
which
survive
in

collections
both
haphazard
and
purposely
assembled.
Many
others
do
not
survive,

but
were
mentioned
in
extant
letters
or
other
sources.
Each
of
these
documents
can

provide
the
same
kind
of
insights
as
the
back
and
forth
between
Eufrasius
and

Avitus
when
viewed
in
isolation.
The
enormous
volume
of
extant
letters
offers
an

additional
opportunity,
however,
to
approach
these
texts
as
an
aggregate
source

base.

This
project
uses
2,895
letters
surviving
from
the
period
between
450
and

650
to
make
three
distinct
contributions.
First,
it
represents
a
new
direction
in
the

study
of
letters
as
a
type
of
source,
and
especially
for
this
period.
Letters
are
the

characteristic
source
type
for
this
period,
far
outnumbering
the
scanty
histories,

chronicles,
saints’
lives,
and
conciliar
records,
but
their
full
potential
has
not
been

exploited.
Historians
have
mined
individual
letters
for
details
for
centuries,
but
this

has
led
to
disproportionate
attention
on
a
tiny
selection
of
the
whole
corpus
and

3

mass
disengagement
from
the
full
scope
of
the
available
material.
Recent
trends
in

the
study
of
correspondence
in
the
ancient
world
focus
on
treating
collections
as
the

product
of
deliberate
assembly,
and
this
project
takes
that
trend
a
step
further
by

examining
not
only
individual
collections
as
a
coherent
unit
but
the
entire
body
of

surviving
source
material.

This
project
brings
the
evidence
of
those
letters,
when
viewed
through
this

aggregate
lens,
to
bear
on
two
lines
of
inquiry.
The
first
is
the
issue
of
mobility.

Letters
were
inherently
mobile
documents,
and
every
letter
represents
a
journey

taken
from
one
point
to
another
along
roads
and
rivers,
over
bridges,
and
through

bustling
port
cities.
Examining
letters
in
this
sense
and
focusing
on
each
as
a

moment
of
fossilized
movement
therefore
brings
to
light
journeys
that
would

otherwise
be
invisible
to
us,
undertaken
by
people
who
appear
in
no
other
body
of

source
material.
Their
sheer
quantity
outnumbers
every
other
source
base
from
this

period
that
speaks
to
movement
and
provides
rich
material
through
which
to

investigate
the
broader
question
of
mobility.
Mobility
is
a
central
topic
of

investigation
in
the
cosmopolitan
world
of
the
Roman
Empire,
in
which
easy

movement
of
people
and
ideas
enabled
the
cultural
interchange
and
hybridity
that

define
the
centuries
of
Roman
rule.
Whether
that
is
also
the
case
for
the
period
that

followed
Roman
rule
is
less
clear,
and
this
project
seeks
to
shed
light
on
who
was

moving,
to
what
places,
and
in
what
numbers.

Moreover,
it
seeks
to
answer
the
question
of
how
the
fundamental
changes
of

the
Roman
world
–
political,
economic,
and
social
–
in
the
fifth
and
sixth
centuries

affected
that
formerly
easy
movement.
This
study
argues
that
these
complexes
of

4

changes
did,
in
fact,
place
hitherto
unknown
restrictions
on
travel.
It
was
harder
to

send
a
letter
from
Clermont
to
Reims
at
the
end
of
the
fifth
century,
after
the

Visigoths
had
swallowed
the
former
and
the
Franks
the
latter,
than
it
had
been
five

decades
before.
Traveling
through
politically
fragmented
Italy
from
Rome
to
Milan

was
more
difficult
at
the
dawn
of
the
seventh
century
than
it
had
been
a
century

prior
during
the
Ostrogothic
rule
of
the
peninsula,
much
less
200
years
before.

While
it
never
became
impossible
to
travel
or
send
a
letter,
the
new
borders
and

boundaries
that
arose
in
what
had
formerly
been
a
single
political
space
put
a
stop

to
that
easy
movement
and
communication,
while
cities
and
regions
disconnected

both
from
one
another
and
the
larger
whole.

This
leads
directly
into
the
project’s
third
major
contribution.
The
fall
of
the

Roman
Empire
in
the
west
and
the
complex
of
changes
that
accompanied
it
altered

every
aspect
of
life
in
its
former
territory,
ranging
from
political
organization
to

settlement
patterns
to
economic
practices
and
ecclesiastical
structures.
Placing

value
judgments
on
these
changes
lies
largely
in
the
eye
of
the
beholder,
but
the
fact

of
their
existence
is
indisputable.
Curiously,
however,
questions
of
movement
and

communication
have
not
been
included
in
the
conception
of
the
changes

accompanying
the
fall
of
the
Roman
Empire.
Ease
of
movement
and
communication

were
central
to
what
had
made
the
Roman
world
function
as
a
coherent
unit
despite

its
inherent
diversity,
and
disruptions
in
their
function
were
central
mechanisms
in

producing
the
vastly
different
world
that
came
after.
The
increasing
difficulty
of

movement
and
communication
played
into
the
regionalization
of
the
post-‐imperial

5

world,
with
consequences
that
stretched
far
beyond
the
ability
to
send
a
letter
from

Clermont
to
Reims.

The
changing
patterns
of
movement
and
communication
to
which
letters

speak
represent
both
the
cause
and
the
effect
of
the
end
of
the
Roman
Empire
in
the

west.
Decreased
communication
and
movement
drove
the
regionalizing
impulse

that
characterizes
the
post-‐imperial
period,
while
the
political,
social,
and
economic

changes
of
the
period
helped
drive
down
the
possibilities
of
communication
and

movement.

The
Database
and
Method

This
project
is
built
on
a
database
that
examines
2,895
letters
spanning
the

period
from
450
to
650.
2

The
major
collections
of
the
Gallo-‐Roman
aristocrat

Sidonius
Apollinaris
and
Pope
Leo
the
Great,
who
were
both
active
around
the

middle
of
the
fifth
century,
begin
the
period
of
study.
On
the
other
end,
the
massive

register
of
Pope
Gregory
the
Great
at
the
end
of
the
sixth
and
beginning
of
the

seventh
century
serves
as
the
other
bookend,
with
much
smaller
collections

extending
until
the
middle
of
the
seventh
century.
3

Collection
(approximate
date
range)
Number
of
Letters

Sidonius
Apollinaris
(455-‐485)
147

Ruricius
of
Limoges
(470-‐506)
102

Avitus
of
Vienne
(500-‐518)
96

Ennodius
of
Pavia
(500-‐514)
297

Cassiodorus’s
Variae
(506-‐538)
396

2

This
total
does
not
include
the
form
letters
that
make
up
books
6
and
7
of

Cassiodorus’s
Variae,
nor
papal
letters
after
Gregory,
which
are
few
in
number
for

the
next
50
years.
The
database
also
includes
109
entries
that
are
not
extant,
but

whose
existence
is
mentioned
in
one
of
the
surviving
letters.
They
are
not
counted

toward
the
total
of
2,895.

3

See
Chapter
1
for
an
in-‐depth
discussion
of
each
collection.

6

Braulio
of
Zaragoza
(620-‐650)
44

Venantius
Fortunatus
(570-‐600)
51

Miscellaneous:
Visigothic,
Langobardic,

Misc.,
Columbanus,
Caesarius
of
Arles,

assorted
Variae
of
Theoderic
(late
fifth

to
mid-‐seventh
centuries)

66

Epistulae
Austrasicae
(485-‐600)
48

Desiderius
of
Cahors
(629-‐655)
36

Papal
letters,
aside
from
Gregory
(440-‐
590)

662

Pope
Gregory
the
Great
(590-‐604)
854

Total:
2,895

Table
1:
The
individual
collections
that
make
up
the
database.

This
database
examines
the
corpus
of
letters
in
discrete
categories.
It
tracks

the
author,
recipient,
place
of
composition,
destination,
subject
matter
under

discussion,
and
the
identity
of
the
letter
carrier.
It
is
not
possible
to
discern
each

with
certainty
in
every
case,
however.
The
vast
majority
of
letters
do
not
state

where
they
were
written
or
where
the
recipient
was
to
be
found,
and
aside
from

papal
letters
very
few
include
a
precise
date.
More
explicitly
name
the
bearer,
but

the
total
is
still
far
fewer
than
half
of
what
survives.
Some
collections
are
more

forthcoming
in
these
matters
than
others,
as
the
table
below
demonstrates.
The

letters
of
Gregory
the
Great
and
papal
letters
in
general
are
far
more
precise
about

locations
than
the
Variae
of
Cassiodorus
or
the
letters
of
Sidonius
Apollinaris,
for

example.
Nearly
18
percent
of
the
Variae
provide
not
even
a
hint
of
the
recipient’s

location,
while
for
Sidonius,
that
total
is
nearly
15
percent.
In
Gregory’s
much
larger

corpus,
however,
barely
1.5
percent
of
the
total
falls
into
that
category.
4

4

Dag
Norberg
(ed.),
Gregori
Magni
Registrum
epistularum
libri,
two
volumes,
Corpus

Christianorum
Series
Latina
140,
140a,
(Turnhout:
Brepols,
1982);
John
R.C.
Martyn

(tr.),
The
Letters
of
Gregory
the
Great,
three
volumes,
(Toronto:
Pontifical
Institute
of

7

Table
2:
Evaluation
of
the
strength
of
identification
of
origin
and
destination.

A
number
of
factors
play
into
this,
not
the
least
of
which
is
the
extent
of

scholarly
interest
in
the
author’s
correspondence,
but
the
size
of
the
collection
also

matters
a
great
deal.
The
author’s
first
letter
to
a
particular
recipient
might
not
say

where
that
individual
was
located,
but
the
second,
third,
fourth,
or
fifth
might.
Take

Gregory
as
an
example.
He
regularly
corresponded
with
a
certain
Peter,
a
sub-‐
deacon.
In
his
early
letters
to
Peter,
it
is
clear
that
Peter
was
resident
in
Sicily,
most

likely
Syracuse.
After
the
third
year
of
Gregory’s
episcopate,
however,
Peter
was

transferred
to
Campania.
It
is
only
in
the
fourth
letter
after
the
transfer
that
his

Medieval
Studies,
2004).
Theodor
Mommsen
(ed.),
Cassiodori
Senatoris
Variae,
MGH

AA
12,
(Berlin:
Weidmanns,
1894).
In
Cassiodorus’s
case,
his
excision
of
ancillary

information
after
the
time
of
initial
writing
is
well
documented;
see
Chapter
1

below.

Collection
Strong
Identifications

of
Place

Weak

Identifications
of

Place

Unknown

Sidonius
Apollinaris
79
46
22

Ruricius
of
Limoges
68
28
6

Avitus
of
Vienne
62
28
6

Ennodius
of
Pavia
187
88
22

Variae
228
97
71

Braulio
of
Zaragoza
26
8
10

Epistulae
Austrasicae
38
7
3

Venantius
Fortunatus
40
11
0

Desiderius
of
Cahors
25
9
2

Miscellaneous
42
14
10

Papal
Letters
before

Gregory

542
88
32

Gregory
the
Great
704
138
12

Total:
2041
562
196

8

precise
location
in
Naples
becomes
clear
due
to
repeated
requests
to
deal
with

monastic
foundations
and
churches
that
were
obviously
located
within
the
city.
5

The
Prosopography
of
the
Later
Roman
Empire
has
been
an
invaluable
tool
in

discerning
the
identities
and
probable
locations
of
recipients,
but
ascertaining
this

information
for
each
letter
is
an
extended
exercise
that
involves
educated

inferences.
There
might
be
a
number
of
candidates
for
the
identity
of
a
recipient,
a

number
of
possibilities
for
his
or
her
location,
and
little
to
provide
any
evidence
of

the
precise
date,
year,
or
even
decade
in
which
the
letter
was
written.
To
allay
these

issues,
I
have
relied
heavily
on
the
comments
of
editors
and
translators
who
know

the
texts
intimately.
In
the
absence
of
explicit
evidence
to
the
contrary
in
the
letter

itself,
a
rare
occurrence,
I
have
used
the
most
widely
known
location
for
each
person

as
the
origin
or
destination.
If
it
is
impossible
to
make
an
educated
inference,
I
have

happily
left
the
entry
blank
or
marked
it
in
the
database
with
a
question
mark.

Take
as
an
example
a
letter
that
Sidonius
Apollinaris,
the
bishop
of
Clermont,

wrote
to
Bishop
Mamertus
of
Vienne.
I
have
assumed
that
Sidonius
was
writing
in

Clermont
or
the
general
vicinity
and
that
Mamertus
was
in
or
around
Vienne
on
the

following
basis:
“We
of
Clermont
know
that
all
these
ills
befell
your
people
of
Vienne

before
the
Rogations,”
Sidonius
wrote.
This
is
not
incontrovertible
evidence
that

Sidonius
was
in
Clermont
and
Mamertus
was
in
Vienne,
but
given
that
they
were
the

bishops
of
those
two
cities
and
the
letter
explicitly
mentions
their
cities,
it
is

reasonable
to
assume
that
each
was
in
or
at
least
in
the
immediate
vicinity
of
his

5

To
Peter
in
Sicily:
1.1
mentions
his
appointment
in
Sicily,
then
1.9,
1.18,
etc.
His

transfer
to
Campania
is
first
mentioned
in
3.1,
but
only
the
specifics
of
the
next

several
letters
(3.5,
3.19,
and
3.23)
allow
his
location
to
be
firmly
fixed
in
that
city.

9

home
see.
Ascertaining
the
date
requires
inference:
Other
sources
place
the
date
of

the
Gothic
incursions
into
the
Auvergne
the
letter
references
around
474,
so
while

we
cannot
be
certain,
that
seems
its
most
likely
date
of
composition.
It
provides
no

hint
as
to
who
carried
it.
6

I
followed
this
process
for
each
of
the
2,895
letters
this
project
utilizes.
The

method
is
consistent
from
letter
to
letter
and
collection
to
collection,
though
some

are
more
forthcoming
about
this
information
than
others,
as
the
table
above

indicates
with
regard
to
locations.
More
generally,
we
can
be
certain
that
people

traveled.
Bishops
were
not
always
in
their
sees.
7

There
is
no
good
reason,
however,

to
assume
that
people
were
always
on
the
road,
and
placing
the
authors
and

recipients
in
the
places
with
which
they
were
most
commonly
associated
is
a
viable

work-‐around
for
travel
to
which
the
extant
letters
do
not
directly
speak.
Even
if
the

bishops
of
Vienne
and
Clermont
were
not
always
in
their
sees,
their
correspondence

speaks
to
ongoing
connections
between
their
cities.
I
have
striven
to
be
clear
about

which
letters
seem
more
secure
and
built
interpretively
on
the
soundest
foundation,

while
indicating
where
greater
uncertainty
lies
in
the
footnotes.

Parameters
of
the
Project

This
investigation
covers
the
period
between
440
and
604
in
the
Latin-‐
speaking
western
half
of
the
Roman
Empire
and
its
successor
kingdoms.
8

It
takes

brief
excursions
outside
those
boundaries.
The
episcopates
of
Popes
Leo
the
Great

6

Sidonius
7.1;
the
rest
of
the
letter
speaks
at
length
about
the
Auvergne,
Vienne,
and

Clermont
as
well.
W.B.
Anderson
(ed.),
Sidonius:
Poems
and
Letters,
(Cambridge:

Harvard
University
Press,
1936);
O.M.
Dalton
(tr.),
The
Letters
of
Sidonius,
(Oxford:

Clarendon
Press,
1915).

7

E.g.
Sidonius’s
reference
to
traveling
to
Vienne
in
7.15.

8

The
exception
is
Britain,
where
no
material
survives.

10

(440-‐461)
and
Gregory
the
Great
(590-‐604),
who
produced
large
volumes
of

surviving
correspondence
–
Gregory’s
would
not
be
surpassed
in
size
until
after
the

turn
of
the
millennium
–
serve
as
convenient
bookends.
In
particular
places,
the

project
explores
collections
that
reach
beyond
the
beginning
of
the
seventh
century,

and
geographically
it
stretches
tangentially
into
the
major
cities
of
the
Greek-‐
speaking
East.
9

The
major
focus
of
this
project
is
on
mobility
and
how
the
complex
of

changes
we
label
the
fall
of
the
Roman
Empire
affected
it.
To
that
end,
I
have
chosen

a
window
that
covers
the
last
several
decades
of
organized
Roman
rule
in
the
west

and
tracked
those
issues
over
a
150-‐year
window.
This
particular
temporal
focus

provided
both
sufficient
epistolary
material
–
nearly
2,900
letters
in
total
–
and
a

long-‐enough
period
of
investigation
to
put
a
series
of
in-‐depth
questions
to
the
test

in
a
variety
of
different
geographic
contexts.
The
Gallo-‐Roman
epistolographers
of

the
late
fifth
and
early
sixth
centuries
provide
a
much
different
perspective
on

political
fragmentation
and
its
effects
on
mobility
than
the
world
of
Gregory
the

Great
at
the
end
of
the
sixth.
In
general,
the
seventh
century
is
not
fruitful
territory

for
the
study
of
letters:
Fewer
than
100
papal
letters
survive
for
the
entire
century,

for
example,
and
there
were
no
major
collections
of
administrative
letters
such
as

the
Variae.

9

Specifically
Iberia,
which
produced
no
surviving
correspondence
before
the

beginning
of
the
seventh
century.
I
have
included
the
Visigothic
Letters
and
the

letters
of
Braulio
of
Zaragoza,
which
reach
to
the
middle
of
the
seventh
century,
to

remedy
this
particular
shortcoming.
In
the
east,
the
major
focus
in
Constantinople,

with
brief
excursions
to
Thessalonica
and
Alexandria.

11

By
around
600,
then,
the
changes
that
had
come
into
focus
in
the
middle
of

the
fifth
century
had
percolated
for
150
years.
The
material
on
which
this
project
is

based
grew
much
scarcer
after
that
point.
The
Latin-‐speaking
West
provides
much

more
fruitful
territory
for
studying
the
intersection
of
massive
political
change
and

mobility
than
the
Greek-‐speaking
East,
and
the
decision
to
focus
solely
on
Latin

letters
is
a
product
of
the
fact
that
there
is
nothing
to
suggest
the
use
of
Greek
as
a

language
of
correspondence
in
the
West.
Even
in
the
Eastern
Empire,
Latin
was
the

language
of
administration
and
government
well
into
the
sixth
century,
particularly

in
Constantinople.
Correspondence
between
Constantinople
and
the
West
likewise

seems
to
have
been
in
Latin.
10

The
period
between
450
and
600
provides
a
distinct

opportunity
to
study
questions
of
mobility
through
an
abundant
source
base
in
the

Latin-‐speaking
half
of
the
Empire.

Historiography:
Letters

Letters
have
long
been
an
essential
source
for
the
study
of
Late
Antiquity
and

have
a
venerable
tradition
as
a
source
for
the
ancient
world
in
general.
11

Scholars

10

Averil
Cameron,
“Old
and
New
Rome:
Roman
Studies
in
Sixth-‐Century

Constantinople,”
in
Philip
Rousseau
and
Emmanuel
Papoutsakis
(eds.),

Transformations
of
Late
Antiquity:
Essays
for
Peter
Brown,
Volume
2,
(London:

Ashgate,
2009),
15-‐36;
cf.
Fergus
Millar,
A
Greek
Roman
Empire:
Power
and
Belief

under
Theodosius
II,
408-‐450
(Berkeley
and
Los
Angeles:
University
of
California

Press,
2006),
p.
19
and
83-‐93;
G.
Dagron,
“Aux
origines
de
la
civilisation
byzantine:

langue
de
culture
et
langue
d’état,”
Revue
Historique
241
(1969),

23-‐56;
Brian

Croke,
“Justinian’s
Constantinople,”
in
Michael
Maas
(ed.),
The
Cambridge

Companion
to
the
Age
of
Justinian,
(Cambridge:
Cambridge
University
Press,
2005),

60-‐86;
U.
Stache,
Flavius
Cresconius
Corippus,
In
laudem
Iustini
Augusti
minoris,
Ein

Kommentar,
(Berlin:
Mielke,
1976),

7-‐19;
B.
Hemmerdinger,
“Les
lettres
latines
à

Constantinople
jusqu’à
Justinien,”
Byzantinische
Forschungen
1
(1966),

174-‐8.

11

On
letters
in
Antiquity
and
Late
Antiquity
in
particular,
the
scholarly
tradition

begins
with
the
observations
of
Samuel
Dill,
Roman
Society
in
the
Last
Century
of
the

Western
Empire,
(London:
Macmillan,
1910)
(second
edition);
Ruth
Morello
and
A.D.

12

have
mined
this
rich
quarry
for
centuries
for
details
on
political
happenings,
social

trends,
the
culture
of
the
aristocracy,
and
ecclesiastical
organization,
among
many

other
topics.
12

Recent
trends
in
the
study
of
letters
in
this
period
emphasize
the
idea

of
letter
collections
as
coherent
constructions,
with
a
particular
emphasis
on
the

role
of
modern
editors
and
the
violence
they
have
done
to
the
authors’
original

arrangement
of
their
works.
According
to
this
line
of
reasoning,
authors
consciously

edited
and
constructed
their
books
of
letters
with
an
eye
toward
their
audience
and

particular
goals
in
mind.
The
whole
collection
becomes,
from
this
perspective,
a

coherent
literary
product
and
needs
to
be
treated
as
such.
13

Morrison
(eds.),
Ancient
Letters:
Classical
and
Late
Antique
Epistolography,
(Oxford:

Oxford
University
Press,
2007);
Volume
7
(2014)
of
The
Journal
of
Late
Antiquity,

which
focuses
on
letters
during
the
period;
Stanley
K.
Stowers,
Letter-‐Writing
in

Greco-‐Roman
Antiquity,
(Philadelphia:
The
Westminster
Press,
1986);
Bronwen
Neil

and
Pauline
Allen
(eds.),
Collecting
Early
Christian
Letters:
From
the
Apostle
Paul
to

Late
Antiquity,
(Cambridge:
Cambridge
University
Press,
2015),
provides
strong

case
studies
of
episcopal
and
papal
collections
from
the
period;
Walter
Ysebaert,

“Letter
Collections
(Latin
West
and
Byzantium),”

1898-‐1904
in
A.
Classen
(ed.),

Handbook
of
Medieval
Studies
(Berlin:
De
Gruyter,
2010);
Christian
Hogel
and

Elisabetta
Bartoli
(eds.),
Medieval
Letters:
Between
Fiction
and
Document
(Turnhout:

Brepols,
2015);
Giles
Constable,
Letters
and
Letter-‐Collections,
(Turnhout:
Brepols,

1976);
on
letters
in
the
Christian
context,
see
Hans-‐Josef
Klauck,
Ancient
Letters
and

the
New
Testament:
A
Guide
to
Context
and
Exegesis
(Waco:
Baylor
University
Press,

2006).

12

This
is
still
common
today:
see
e.g.
Jonathan
J.
McLaughlin,
“Bridging
the
Cultural

Divide:
Libanius,
Ellebichus,
and
Letters
to
‘Barbarian’
Generals,”
Journal
of
Late

Antiquity
7
(2014),

253-‐79.

13

R.K.
Gibson,
“On
the
nature
of
ancient
letter
collections,”
Journal
of
Roman
Studies

102
(2012),

56-‐78;
Mary
Beard,
“Ciceronian
correspondences:
making
a
book
out
of

letters,”
in
T.P.
Wiseman
(ed.),
Classics
in
Progress:
Essays
on
Ancient
Greece
and

Rome
(Oxford:
Oxford
University
Press,
2006),

103-‐44;
Adam
M.
Schor,
“Becoming

Bishop
in
the
Letters
of
Basil
and
Synesius:
Tracing
Patterns
of
Social
Signaling

Across
Two
Full
Epistolary
Collections,”
Journal
of
Late
Antiquity
7
(2014),

298-‐328;

Margaret
Mullet,
Theophylact
of
Ochrid:
Reading
the
Letters
of
a
Byzantine

Archbishop,
(New
York:
Routledge,
1997).

13

This
project
is
not
concerned
with
collections
as
literary
productions
except

insofar
as
that
process
of
creation
affected
the
geographic
distribution
of
letters,
but

it
does
accept
as
its
starting
point
the
emerging
trend
of
treating
whole
collections

as
aggregate
products
to
be
examined
on
a
large
scale.
It
takes
that
idea
a
step

further
by
utilizing
the
entire
corpus
of
surviving
material.
The
idea
of
mapping

letters,
whether
by
collection
or
as
an
aggregate
group,
is
almost
entirely
foreign
to

the
study
of
this
period,
but
it
has
gained
greater
purchase
among
the
vast

collections
of
surviving
correspondence
from
the
early
modern
period.
14

Stanford’s

“Mapping
the
Republic
of
Letters”
project
utilizes
tens
of
thousands
of
letters

written
in
the
seventeenth
and
eighteenth
centuries
by
such
figures
as
Voltaire,

Descartes,
Benjamin
Franklin,
and
Linnaeus,
among
many
others.
15

Given
the
vastly

greater
quantity
of
material
the
early
modern
period
has
to
offer
–
Descartes
and

Franklin
both
left
more
than
20,000
letters
–
the
possibilities
for
mapping
social

networks
and
seeing
both
the
geographic
and
social
overlap
between
authors
is

much
greater
in
that
period
than
in
the
late
antique
West.
Nevertheless,
my
project

14

An
exception
is
Robert
Markus,
Gregory
the
Great
and
His
World
(Cambridge:

Cambridge
University
Press,
1997),
which
briefly
maps
Gregory’s
letter
in
an

appendix.
The
results
are
neither
comprehensive
nor
deep,
representing
only
a
few

pages,
and
there
is
much
to
disagree
with
in
Markus’s
conclusions.

15

The
project
is
online
at
http://republicofletters.stanford.edu/index.html.
It

contains
numerous
online-‐only
case
studies
and
visualizations
of
the
many
authors’

networks.
One
of
several
publications
growing
out
of
this
project
is
Caroline

Winterer,
“Where
is
America
in
the
Republic
of
Letters?”
in
Modern
Intellectual

History
9
(2012),

597-‐623.
On
the
Republic
of
Letters
more
generally,
see
e.g.
Dena

Goodman,
The
Republic
of
Letters:
A
Cultural
History
of
the
French
Entlightenment

(Ithaca:
Cornell
University
Press,
1994);
Anne
Goldgar,
Impolite
Learning:
Conduct

and
Community
in
the
Republic
of
Letters,
1680-‐1750
(New
Haven:
Yale
University

Press,
1995);
L.W.B.
Brockliss,
Calvet’s
Web:
Enlightenment
and
the
Republic
of

Letters
in
Eighteenth-‐Century
France
(Oxford:
Oxford
University
Press,
2002).

14

draws
its
methodological
inspiration
from
the
“Mapping
the
Republic
of
Letters”

project,
even
if
its
scale
is
necessarily
much
smaller.

Historiography:
Mobility

The
emerging
consensus
treats
the
Roman
world
as
an
inherently
mobile,

cosmopolitan,
and
even
a
globalized
space.
16

The
idea
of
a
Roman
Empire
that
can

be
treated
in
globalized
terms,
where
interchanges
between
the
hyper-‐local
context

and
the
broader
aspects
of
Roman
culture
and
society
created
hybrid
spaces,
relies

on
a
conception
of
the
period
as
one
in
which
travel
and
communication
were
the

sine
qua
non.
17

Those
interchanges
and
the
cosmopolitan
character
of
the
empire

16

Martin
Pitts
and
Miguel
John
Versluys
(eds.),
Globalisation
and
the
Roman
World:

World
History,
Connectivity
and
Material
Culture,
Cambridge:
Cambridge
University

Press,
2015;
see
in
particular
the
contribution
by
Martin
Pitts
and
Miguel
John

Versluys,
“Globalisation
and
the
Roman
World:
Perspectives
and
Opportunities,”

3-‐
31
in
Globalisation,
for
a
deep
theoretical
perspective
on
the
topic,
along
with
R.

Hingley,
Globalising
Roman
Culture:
Unity,
Diversity
and
Empire
(New
York:

Routledge,
2005);
Greg
Woolf,
“Afterword:
The
Local
and
the
Global
in
the
Graeco-‐
Roman
East,”
in
Tim
Whitmarsh
(ed.),
Local
Knowledge
and
Microidentities
in
the

Imperial
Greek
World
(Oxford:
Oxford
University
Press),

189-‐200;
Clifford
Ando,

“Imperial
Identities,”
in
Whitmarsh
(ed.),
Local
Knowledge
and
Microidentities,

17-‐
45;
Linda
Ellis
and
Frank
L.
Kidner
(eds.),
Travel,
Communication
and
Geography
in

Late
Antiquity:
Sacred
and
Profane,
(Aldershot:
Ashgate,
2004);
see
J.F.
Drinkwater,

“Introduction,”

xv-‐xix
in
Ellis
and
Kidner
(eds.),
Travel,
for
a
healthy
overview.
Ray

Laurence,
The
Roads
of
Roman
Italy:
Mobility
and
Cultural
Change,
(London:

Routledge,
1999);
for
an
explicit
argument
for
the
material
safety
of
the
Principate

enabling
trade
and
human
mobility,
see
Gary
K.
Young,
Rome’s
Eastern
Trade:

International
Commerce
and
Imperial
Policy,
31
BC-‐AD
305
(New
York:
Routledge,

2001);
Clifford
Ando,
“Imperial
Identities,”
in
Whitmarsh
(ed.),
Local
Knowledge
and

Microidentities,

17-‐45;
Claudia
Moatti,
“Mobility
and
Identity
Between
the
Second

and
Fourth
Centuries:
The
‘Cosmopolization’
of
the
Roman
Empire,”
in
Claudia
Rapp

and
H.A.
Drake
(eds.),
The
City
in
the
Classical
and
Post-‐Classical
World:
Changing

Contexts
of
Power
and
Identity
(Cambridge:
Cambridge
University
Press,
2014),

130-‐52;
Hella
Eckardt
(ed.),
Roman
Diasporas:
Archaeological
Approaches
to
Mobility

and
Diversity
in
the
Roman
Empire,
Journal
of
Roman
Studies
78
(2010).

17

Much
of
the
recent
work
on
Romanization,
and
which
seeks
to
complicate
that

now-‐outdated
term,
relies
on
this
framework;
see
fundamentally
Greg
Woolf,

Becoming
Roman:
The
Origins
of
Provincial
Civilization
in
Gaul
(Cambridge:

15

were
not
possible
without
the
inherent
mobility
that
its
roads,
ports,
and
general

safety
afforded.
That
mobility
took
many
forms
–
individual
or
collective,
forced
or

voluntary,
peaceful
or
violent,
legal
and
clandestine,
temporary
and
permanent
–

but
the
scholarly
consensus
focuses
on
the
Roman
world
as
a
particularly
mobile

space.
18

This
does
not
mean
that
mobility
in
the
Empire
was
totally
free
and

uncontrolled
at
any
point
in
its
history,
but
there
is
no
escaping
the
fact
that
it
was

more
free
and
less
controlled
than
what
came
after.
The
documents
required
for
the

movement
of
people
and
goods
were
far
less
of
a
check
on
mobility
than
instability,

danger,
and
the
rise
of
new
internal
borders.
19

Cambridge
University
Press,
1998);
Irad
Malkin
(ed.),
Mediterranean
Paradigms
and

Classical
Antiquity
(London:
Routledge,
2005);
D.J.
Mattingly,
“Being
Roman:

expressing
identity
in
a
provincial
setting,”

5-‐25
in
Journal
of
Roman
Archaeology
17

(2004);
D.J.
Mattingly,
“Cultural
crossovers:
global
and
local
identities
in
the
Roman

world,”

283-‐95
in
S.
Hales
and
T.
Hodos
(eds.),
Material
Cultures
and
Social

Identities
in
the
Ancient
World
(Cambridge:
Cambridge
University
Press,
2010);

Walter
Scheidel,
“Human
Mobility
in
Roman
Italy,
I:
The
Free
Population,”
Journal
of

Roman
Studies
94
(2004),

1-‐26;
Walter
Scheidel,
“Human
Mobility
in
Roman
Italy,

II:
The
Slave
Population,”
Journal
of
Roman
Studies
95
(2005),

64-‐79;
David
Noy,

Foreigners
at
Rome:
Citizens
and
Strangers
(Cardiff:
Duckworth
with
the
Classical

Press
of
Wales,
2000).
The
ubiquity
of
bilingualism
in
the
Roman
world
is
now
a

given:
see
James
Noel
Adams,
Bilingualism
and
the
Latin
Language
(Cambridge:

Cambridge
University
Press,
2003)
for
a
magisterial
overview.

18

This
definition
is
adapted
from
Claudia
Moatti,
“Introduction,”
in
Claudia
Moatti

(ed.),
La
mobilité
des
personnes
en
Mediteranée
de
l’Antiquité
à
l’Époque
moderne:

procédures
de
contrôle
et
documents
d’identification,
(Rome:
École
française
de

Rome,
2004),

1-‐24;
Claudia
Moatti,
“Translation,
Migration,
and
Communication
in

the
Roman
Empire:
Three
Aspects
of
Movement
in
History,”
Classical
Antiquity
25

(2006),

109-‐40;
Moatti’s
formulation
of
mobility
as
a
constant
throughout
history,

but
one
in
which
the
Roman
world
was
particularly
invested,
is
expressed
forcefully

in
“Mobility
and
Identity,”

130-‐3.

19

See
e.g.
William
Broadhead,
“Rome
and
the
Mobility
of
the
Latins:
Problems
of

Control,”
in
Moatti
(ed.),
La
mobilité
des
personnes,

315-‐35;
Élodie
Bauzon,

“L’enregistrement
des
Italiens
et
des
Romains
en
passage
ou
résidents
dans
les
cités

greques
IIe-‐Ier
siècles
av.
J-‐C,”
in
Claudia
Moatti
and
Wolfgang
Kaiser
(eds.),
Gens
de

passage
en
Mediteranée
de
l’Antiquité
à
l’Époque
moderne:
procédures
de
contrôle
et

d’identification,
(Paris:
Maisonneuve
et
Larose,
2007),

183-‐202;
Moatti,

16

Within
the
study
of
Late
Antiquity
in
particular,
mobility
and

communications
have
been
explored
in
numerous
manifestations.
Students
traveled

to
their
teachers
at
intellectual
centers,
elites
traveled
to
and
from
their
estates,
and

merchants
sold
goods
at
ports
across
the
Mediterranean.
Above
all,
a
vast
array
of

individuals
traveled
on
official
business.
Soldiers
moved
from
post
to
post
in
large

numbers,
legal
officials
were
itinerant
by
nature,
and
the
army
had
to
be
supplied.
20

Information
flowed
from
the
frontiers
of
the
Roman
Empire
and
beyond
to
the

center
and
shaped
foreign
policy,
as
well
as
shaping
regionally
variant
views
of
the

frontiers
and
a
popular
view
of
imperium
sine
fine
that
evolved
over
time.
21

The

external
frontiers
of
the
Roman
Empire,
far
from
being
impermeable
barriers,

created
zones
of
social,
cultural,
and
economic
interaction.
22

Much
less,
however,

“Translation,
Migration,
Communication,”

118-‐27;
Claudia
Moatti,
“La
contrôle
de
la

mobilité
des
personnes
dans
le
monde
romain,”
Mélanges
de
l'école
française
de

Rome
122
(2000),

925-‐58,
argues
for
strong
controls
in
Egypt
and
less
stringent

regulations
elsewhere,
though
the
evidence
is
much
weaker.

20

For
a
useful
overview,
see
Blake
Leyerle,
“Mobility
and
the
Traces
of
Empire,”

110-‐24
in
Phillip
Rousseau
(ed.),
A
Companion
to
Late
Antiquity,
Malden:
Blackwell,

2012.
Though
not
specifically
focused
on
Late
Antiquity,
the
closest
analogue
to
the

present
work
is
Anne
Kolb,
“Communications
and
Mobility
in
the
Roman
Empire,”

649-‐70
in
Chester
Bruun
(ed.),
The
Oxford
Handbook
of
Roman
Epigraphy,
Oxford:

Oxford
University
Press,
2014,
which
uses
epigraphic
evidence
to
discuss
the

infrastructure
of
travel.

21

On
the
flow
of
information
from
periphery
to
center
in
the
later
Empire,
see
A.D.

Lee,
Information
and
Frontiers:
Roman
Foreign
Relations
in
Late
Antiquity,

(Cambridge:
Cambridge
University
Press,
1993);
Mark
W.
Graham,
News
and

Frontier
Consciousness
in
the
Late
Roman
Empire
(Ann
Arbor:
University
of
Michigan

Press,
2006),
focuses
on
the
popular
conception
of
frontiers
in
the
later
Empire.

22

Fundamentally
C.R.
Whittaker,
Frontiers
of
the
Roman
Empire:
A
Social
and

Economic
Study
(Baltimore:
Johns
Hopkins
University
Press,
1994);
C.R.
Whittaker,

Rome
and
its
Frontiers:
The
Dynamics
of
Empire
(New
York:
Routledge,
2004);
Hugh

Elton,
Frontiers
of
the
Roman
Empire
(Bloomington:
Indiana
University
Press,
1996).

For
more
recent
perspectives,
see
Olivier
Hekster
and
Ted
Kaizer
(eds.),
Frontiers
in

the
Roman
World:
Proceedings
of
the
Ninth
Workshop
on
the
International
Impact
of

Empire
(Durham,
16-‐19
April
2009)
(Leiden:
Brill,
2011);
the
contribution
of
Koen

17

has
been
done
on
the
internal
borders
within
the
Roman
Empire.
Controls
and
the

documentation
necessary
to
move
from
place
to
place
seem
to
have
varied
wildly.
23

Even
less
has
been
done
on
the
rise
of
new
internal
boundaries
that
came
about
as
a

result
of
the
political
fragmentation
of
the
fifth
and
sixth
centuries.
24

There
are
two
substantial
issues
with
the
existing
work
on
mobility
that
this

project
seeks
to
remedy.
First,
while
the
Roman
Empire
is
thick
with
studies
of

human
mobility
and
its
meanings,
the
basic
fact
of
people
moving
–
when,
how

many,
and
by
what
routes
–
is
often
lost
in
the
shuffle.
25

The
cultural
hybridity,

cosmopolitanism,
and
globalization
that
mobility
produced,
and
the
weight
of
the

interpretations
attached
to
them,
have
buried
the
underlying
structures
that

enabled
them.
By
examining
in
depth
the
journeys
that
made
those
broader

meanings
possible,
this
study
seeks
to
redress
that
gap.
Second,
the
Late
Antique

West
in
particular
is
underserved
by
in-‐depth
studies
of
the
baseline
movement
of

people,
and
there
has
been
effectively
no
investigation
of
how
the
large-‐scale

political
changes
associated
with
the
fall
of
the
Roman
Empire
affected
movement.
26

Verboen,
“Resident
Aliens
and
Translocal
Merchant
Collegia
in
the
Roman
Empire,”

335-‐48,
is
particularly
illuminating
on
the
permeability
of
borders.

23

Moatti,
“La
contrôle
de
la
mobilité.”

24

A
notable
exception
is
Walter
Pohl,
“Le
frontiere
longobarde.
Controle
e

percezioni,”
in
Moatti
(ed.),
La
mobilité
des
personnes,

225-‐51.

25

Though
see
Scheidel,
“Human
Mobility,”
and
Noy,
Foreigners
at
Rome.

26

E.g.
Mark
Handley,
Dying
on
Foreign
Shores:
Travel
and
Mobility
in
the
Late-‐
Antique
West,
Journal
of
Roman
Archaeology
Supplementary
Series
86,
Portsmouth:

Journal
of
Roman
Archaeology,
2011;
though
note
Pohl,
“Le
frontier
longobarde.”
Of

the
chapters
in
Ellis
and
Kidner
(eds.),
Travel,
for
example,
only
two
contributions

even
briefly
touch
on
the
period
after
roughly
450:
Ray
Laurence,
“Milestones,

Communications,
and
Political
Stability,”

41-‐58;
and
Claire
Sotinel,
“How
Were

Bishops
Informed?
Information
Transmission
Across
the
Adriatic
Sea
in
Late

Antiquity,”

63-‐72.
Florin
Curta
(ed.),
Borders,
Barriers,
and
Ethnogenesis:
Frontiers

in
Late
Antiquity
and
the
Middle
Ages
(Turnhout:
Brepols,
2005)
does
not
discuss

18

Letters
as
a
Source
for
Mobility
Alongside
Ceramics,
Prosopography,

and
Science

As
a
source
base,
letters
have
a
great
deal
to
offer
the
study
of
human

mobility.
As
inherently
mobile
documents,
they
shed
light
on
one
particular
type
of

human
mobility
–
voluntary,
temporary,
and
relatively
short-‐distance
–
that
is

difficult
to
find
in
other
types
of
source
material.
27

It
was
voluntary,
as
opposed
to

the
forced
importation
of
slaves;
it
was
temporary
–
couriers
generally
made
round

trips
–
rather
than
permanent
migration;
and
it
was
relatively
short
in
distance.
This

last
piece
requires
some
qualification.
There
certainly
were
long-‐distance
letters
in

this
period,
namely
diplomatic
correspondence
between
(for
example)
Metz
and

Constantinople,
or
contacts
between
the
popes
and
the
bishops
of
Antioch
and

Alexandria.
Far
more
common,
however,
was
correspondence
that
traveled
between

three
days
and
three
weeks
to
reach
its
destination,
rather
than
the
one
or
two

months
required
for
journeys
between
the
different
sides
of
the
Mediterranean.

When
this
project
uses
the
term
“long-‐distance”
to
describe
a
letter
or
journey,
it

means
specifically
travel
that
would
have
taken
more
than
a
month.
28

Different
source
bases
provide
insight
into
different
kinds
of
mobility.
Letters

bring
to
light
thousands
of
these
relatively
brief,
temporary
journeys
and
hundreds

these
political
changes
as
driving
forces
in
shifting
frontiers
and
the
meaning
or

importance
of
borders,
nor
does
Walter
Pohl,
Ian
Wood,
and
Helmut
Reimitz
(eds.),

The
Transformation
of
Frontiers:
From
Late
Antiquity
to
the
Carolingians
(Leiden:

Brill,
2000).

27

This
typology
is
adapted
from
Moatti,
“Introduction,”
in
Moatti
(ed.),
La
mobilité

des
personnes.

28

Unless
otherwise
stated
–
letters
rarely
mention
the
length
of
journeys
–
all
travel

times
in
this
project
derive
from
ORBIS,
the
geospatial
network
model
of
the
Roman

world.
It
can
be
found
at
http://orbis.stanford.edu.

19

of
the
travelers
who
made
them.
That
is
the
benefit
of
the
large-‐scale,
aggregate

approach
that
this
project
utilizes.
Three
other
bodies
of
source
material
stand
out,

all
of
which
–
like
letters
–
offer
substantial
amounts
of
material
from
which
to
draw

conclusions
about
mobility.
Analyses
of
material
culture
and
the
movement
of

goods,
particularly
African
Red
Slip
pottery
and
amphorae,
show
how
bulk
goods

continued
to
travel
after
the
end
of
the
Western
Empire.
People,
obviously,
had
to

move
those
goods
from
place
to
place,
and
those
two
types
of
ceramics
can
be

treated
as
a
proxy
marker
for
the
continued
movements
of
merchants.
29

Prosopography
provides
another
window
onto
travel,
and
mostly
provides

information
on
the
long-‐distance
movements
of
pilgrims
and
ambassadors.
30

Inscriptions
tend
to
record
the
movements
of
immigrants
from
one
region
to

another;
in
life
and
death,
the
people
commemorated
in
stone
wanted
to
remember

where
they
had
come
from.
31

Archaeoscientific
tools,
namely
genetics
and
stable

isotope
analysis,
offer
new
perspectives
as
well.

When
combined,
these
different
approaches
provide
a
holistic
and

interdisciplinary
look
at
mobility
that
shed
light
on
both
its
large-‐
and
small-‐scale

manifestations.
32

Letters
own
a
specific
place
in
this
discussion,
and
this
project
is

partially
an
attempt
to
bring
their
evidence
into
that
broader
conversation.
Stable

isotopes,
genetics,
and
most
inscriptions
tell
us
about
a
person’s
movement
over
the

29

On
which
see
Chris
Wickham,
Framing
the
Early
Middle
Ages
(Oxford:
Oxford

University
Press,
2005),

693-‐824,
which
is
the
best
overview.

30

Michael
McCormick,
Origins
of
the
European
Economy
(Cambridge:
Cambridge

University
Press,
2001),

123-‐280.

31

Handley,
Dying
on
Foreign
Shores.

32

A
call
echoed
by
Lien
Foubert
and
David
J.
Breeze,
“Mobility
in
the
Roman

Empire,”

175-‐86
in
Jim
Leary
(ed.),
Past
Mobilities:
Archaeological
Approaches
to

Movement
and
Mobility,
Burlington:
Ashgate,
2014.

20

course
of
his
or
her
life.
Archaeological
materials
do
not
reveal
the
object’s
journey,

merely
where
it
finally
came
to
rest.
Prosopography
speak
to
temporary
travel,
but

almost
exclusively
of
the
long-‐distance
variety.
Only
letters
reveal
the
web
of

quotidian,
short-‐term,
and
short-‐
or
medium-‐distance
travel
that
bound
the
strands

of
the
former
Western
Empire
together.

Studies
of
material
culture
have
long
been
used
as
proxy
markers
for
human

movement.
Diffusion
vs.
migration
is
one
of
the
oldest
and
most
venerable
debates

in
archaeology:
Does
the
movement
of
goods
imply
migration,
or
can
material

culture
move
without
mass
movement
of
peoples?
33

That
is
a
difficult
question
that

has
yet
to
be
definitively
answered,
and
it
probably
never
will
be,
but
the
question

here
is
less
one
of
migration
and
whether
artifacts
reveal
it
than
whether
other

kinds
of
material
culture
can
speak
to
the
question
of
mobility.

Ceramics,
and
the
systems
of
commercial
exchange
that
they
reveal,
can
do

precisely
that
for
Late
Antiquity
in
the
west.
Large
quantities
of
pottery
did
not

move
themselves
from
place
to
place;
people
–
merchants
or
purchasers,
more

specifically
–
had
to
transport
them,
and
if
the
pottery
was
moving
so
too
were
the

33

Without
going
too
far
into
the
weeds
of
archaeological
theory,
note
Gustaf
Kossina

as
pioneer
of
culture-‐historical
archaeology,
emphasizing
the
equation
of
moving

goods
with
moving
peoples,
with
Die
Herkunft
der
Germanen:
zur
Methode
der

Siedlungsarchäologie
(Würzburg:
C.
Kabitzsch,
1911).
This
is
still
an
influential
view,

in
somewhat
modified
form,
in
the
study
of
the
barbarians
in
late
antiquity,
as
seen

through
the
work
of
Reinhard
Wenskus,
Herwig
Wolfram,
and
today
Walter
Pohl.

For
a
critique
of
these
ideas,
even
in
its
updated
form,
see
the
essays
in
Andrew

Gillett
(ed.),
On
Barbarian
Identity:
Critical
Approaches
to
Ethnicity
in
the
Early

Middle
Ages
(Turnhout:
Brepols,
2002);
see
below,
Introduction,

36-‐7.
For
another

useful
overview
of
the
debate,
see
also
Sam
Lucy,
“From
Pots
to
People:
Two

Hundred
Years
of
Anglo-‐Saxon
Archaeology,”

144-‐69
in
Karen
Hough,
Christine

Hough,
R.I.
Page,
and
Kathryn
A.
Lowe
(eds.),
Lastworda
Betst:
Essays
in
Memory
of

Christine
E.
Fell
with
her
Unpublished
Writings
(Stamford:
Oxbow
Books,
2002).

21

people.
34

In
this
sense,
the
movement
of
luxury
goods,
which
are
by
definition
rare,

tells
us
a
great
deal
less
than
the
distribution
of
bulk
goods,
in
this
case
tableware
in

the
form
of
African
Red
Slip
(ARS)
and
amphorae.
Written
sources
focus
mostly
on

luxury
items,
and
only
the
material
evidence
reveals
the
true
extent
of
the

underlying,
aggregate
commercial
processes
in
the
period.
That
is
precisely
why

ceramics
are
such
an
invaluable
resource
for
discussing
large-‐scale
exchange.
35

By

proxy,
they
become
just
as
useful
for
discussing
movements
of
people
as
well.

Rather
than
the
limited
journeys
of
a
few
luxury
items,
a
constant
stream
of

merchants
moving
large
amounts
of
goods
speaks
to
the
underlying
and

underreported
fabric
of
mobility
and
commerce.
Anecdotes
and
vignettes,
the

foundation
of
the
purely
textual
study
of
the
economy,
fall
short
in
comparison.
36

The
only
regions
without
ceramics
in
this
period
were
post-‐Roman
Wales
and

Ireland;
everywhere
else,
people
used
ceramic
ware
of
one
type
or
another.
37

34

For
takes
on
this
material,
see
Richard
Hodges
and
David
Whitehouse,

Mohammed,
Charlemagne
and
the
Origins
of
Europe:
Archaeology
and
the
Pirenne

Thesis
(Ithaca:
Cornell
University
Press,
1982);
Kevin
Greene,
The
Archaeology
of
the

Roman
Economy
(Berkeley
and
Los
Angeles:
University
of
California
Press,
1986);

Paul
Reynolds,
Trade
in
the
Western
Mediterranean,
AD
400-‐700:
The
Ceramic

Evidence
(Oxford:
Tempus
Reparatum,
1995);
Paul
Reynolds,
Hispania
and
the

Roman
Mediterranean,
AD
100-‐700:
Ceramics
and
Trade
(London:
Duckworth,

2010);
Michel
Bonifay,
Etudes
sur
le
céramique
romaine
tardive
d’Afrique
(Stamford:

Oxbow,
2004).
For
fundamental
typologies,
see
John
W.
Hayes,
Late
Roman
Pottery

(London:
British
School
at
Rome,
1972);
John
W.
Hayes,
Supplement
to
Late
Roman

Pottery
(London:
British
School
at
Rome,
1980);
and
John
W.
Hayes,
Handbook
of

Mediterranean
Roman
Pottery
(London:
British
Museum
Press,
1997).
Most
recently,

see
Simon
T.
Loseby,
“Post-‐Roman
Economies,”

334-‐60
in
Walter
Scheidel
(ed.),
The

Cambridge
Companion
to
the
Roman
Economy
(Cambridge:
Cambridge
University

Press,
2012),
which
relies
heavily
on
analyses
of
ceramics.

35

Wickham,
Framing,

696-‐703,
discusses
the
different
scales
of
exchange
and
the

usefulness
of
different
kinds
of
archaeological
evidence.

36

Loseby,
“Post-‐Roman
Economies,”

335-‐8.

37

Wickham,
Framing,
p.
703.

22

What
stories
do
the
massive
piles
of
surviving
ceramics
tell
about
the
post-‐
Roman
economy,
and
implicitly,
the
movements
of
people?
Around
400,
the

Carthage-‐to-‐Rome
movement
of
grain,
oil,
and
wine
held
the
Roman
Empire

together
in
a
commercial
sense.
The
same
massive
ships
that
delivered
state-‐
subsidized
foodstuffs
from
the
Empire’s
breadbasket
to
its
population
centers
in

easily
identifiable
amphorae
also
carried
other
goods,
namely
cheap
African

tableware,
all
over
the
Mediterranean.
Essentially,
commercial
exchange

piggybacked
onto
the
state’s
distribution
of
grain
and
oil
and
led
to
an
African

hegemony
over
interregional
exchange
in
the
Mediterranean.
It
spurred
production,

and
the
annona
system
provided
markets.
38

Of
all
the
ceramic
types,
only
African

Red
Slip
had
wide
distribution
outside
its
area
of
origin,
and
it
is
these
networks
of

large-‐scale
transportation
that
explain
why.

The
Vandal
invasion
of
Africa
and
capture
of
Carthage
led
directly
to
the

breakdown
of
the
large-‐scale,
state-‐subsidized
shipping
of
foodstuffs
to
Italy
and

elsewhere.
The
networks
of
exchange
that
brought
African
goods
to
western

markets
did
not
disappear,
though;
despite
the
fact
that
these
networks
had
been

built
on
back
of
the
annona
system,
they
survived
its
end.
The
production
that
the

system
had
spurred
in
Africa
did
not
stop
simply
because
the
state
was
no
longer

choosing
its
markets.
African
merchants
continued
to
sell
grain
in
Italy
and
even

expanded
the
scale
of
their
oil
exports
to
Spain
in
the
latter
half
of
the
fifth
century.

African
Red
Slip
continued
to
appear
across
the
western
Mediterranean:

Throughout
the
fifth
century,
for
example,
African
tablewares
made
up
more
than

38

Wickham,
Framing,

709-‐11;
Loseby,
“Post-‐Roman
Economies,”

338-‐9.

23

75
percent
of
the
deposits
in
the
garbage
heaps
of
Tarragona
despite
the
Vandal

takeover
of
Africa.
39

As
a
proxy
marker,
then,
the
ceramics
suggest
the
continued

movement
of
goods
and
therefore
people
from
Africa
to
the
various
ports
of
the

region.
The
networks
that
had
tied
together
the
port
cities
of
the
Mediterranean

were
still
in
operation,
though
the
lack
of
distribution
of
African
Red
Slip
inland

suggests
that
these
networks
more
or
less
stopped
at
the
coast.
Up
until
around
500,

the
system
of
exchange
in
the
western
Mediterranean
continued
despite
the
demise

of
the
annona
system.
At
that
point,
the
long
deterioration
of
interregional
contact

began
to
firmly
take
hold,
and
by
600
the
former
system
had
greatly
declined.
40

This
process
of
ceramic
devolution
operated
on
multiple
levels.
Long-‐
distance
trade
of
the
kind
represented
by
African
Red
Slip
fractured
over
the
course

of
the
sixth
century.
Moreover,
even
regional
wares
–
for
example,
a
distinct
pottery

type
produced
in
Marseilles
that
was
exported
to
northern
Spain
in
the
fifth
century

–
more
or
less
disappeared
in
the
sixth.
41

Not
only
did
long-‐distance
trade
and

therefore
long-‐distance
movements
of
merchants
drop
off;
so
too
did
the
smaller-‐
scale
movement
that
had
helped
bind
neighboring
regions
together.
The
general

trend
is
toward
less
commercial
demand
and
therefore
less
movement.

These
are
complicated
and
regionally
specific
processes,
however,
with
a

tremendous
amount
of
local
and
regional
variation.
Italy,
for
example,
was

thoroughly
connected
to
Mediterranean
trade
routes
in
the
fifth
century,
but
the

39

This
synthesis
builds
on
Loseby,
“Post-‐Roman
Economies,”

339-‐42
and
Wickham,

Framing,

711-‐3.
For
the
specifics
in
Tarragona,
see
Javier
Arce,
“Spain
and
the

African
Provinces
in
Late
Antiquity,”

341-‐68
in
Kulikowski
and
Bowles
(eds.),

Hispania
in
Late
Antiquity,

353-‐4.

40

As
outlined
by
Wickham,
Framing,
p.
713.

41

Reynolds,
“Hispania
in
the
Late
Roman
Mediterranean,”

402-‐6.

24

combination
of
the
Gothic
Wars
and
the
Lombard
conquests
drove
an
inter-‐regional

fracturing
between
the
north
and
the
rest
of
the
peninsula,
increasing
localization
of

ceramic
wares,
and
fewer
imports,
particularly
in
the
interior.
42

This
process
of

disengagement
from
broader
regional
and
interregional
networks,
and
the
resulting

localization,
began
earlier
in
northern
Gaul,
where
it
paralleled
the
increasing

localization
of
the
aristocracy.
43

The
Spanish
interior
had
never
been
a
full
participant
in
these
trans-‐
Mediterranean
networks,
and
did
not
become
so
in
the
fifth
and
sixth
centuries.

While
ceramics
throughout
the
western
Mediterranean
became
regionalized
and

localized,
with
decreasing
input
from
imports,
the
Spanish
Meseta
became
the

furthermost
outlier
in
this
process.
44

The
Spanish
coast,
however,
remained
an

active
participant
in
Mediterranean-‐wide
trading
networks.
While
the
first
half
of

the
fifth
century
saw
substantial
decline
across
the
whole
of
the
western
Roman

world,
the
cities
of
Tarraconensis
rebounded
dramatically
and
recovered
much
of

their
former
vitality.
The
Vandal
conquest
of
North
Africa
opened
up
the
range
of

exported
ceramics
and
foodstuffs,
which
show
up
in
great
numbers
in

Tarraconensis,
rather
than
limiting
those
networks.
There
was
also
a
drastic
boom

in
imports
from
the
eastern
Mediterranean,
even
at
sites
in
the
southeastern

interior
such
as
the
Vinalopó
Valley.
It
was
only
the
eventual
Byzantine
reconquest

42

Wickham,
Framing,

728-‐41.

43

D.
Bayard,
“La
céramique
dans
le
Nord
de
la
Gaule

à
la
fin
de
l’Antiquité
(de
la
fin

du
IVème
au
VIème
siècle,”

107–28
in
Daniel
Piton
(ed.),
La
céramique
du
Vème
au

Xème
siècle
dans
l’Europe
du
Nord-‐Ouest
(Arras:
G.R.E.C.,
1993).

44

On
Spain,
see
Reynolds,
“Hispania
in
the
Late
Roman
Mediterranean,”
particularly

401-‐14;
see
also
Wickham,
Framing,

741-‐59.

25

of
the
coast
under
Justinian
that
finally
disrupted
the
trade
networks
coming
into

these
cities
and
therefore
the
patterns
of
personal
mobility
that
drove
them.
45

As
the
example
of
Spain
in
the
late
fifth
and
sixth
centuries
demonstrates,
the

vast
quantity
of
available
ceramic
material
offers
a
granular
and
hyper-‐specific
view

into
exchange
networks
during
this
period.
Detailed
typologies
built
on
enormous

reams
of
comparative
data
from
dozens
of
archaeological
sites
present
the

opportunity
to
closely
track
trans-‐regional
trade,
the
movement
of
goods
within

regions,
and
the
transfer
of
ceramics
on
a
local
level.
Concurrently,
those
ceramics

offer
a
proxy
for
the
movement
of
people
as
well.
Vast
quantities
of
African
Red
Slip

moving
to
the
easily
accessible
ports
of
the
Mediterranean
through
the
fifth
and
into

the
sixth
centuries
suggests
the
continuation
of
some
patterns
of
mobility,
while
its

end
around
the
seventh
century
tracks
neatly
with
the
shifts
in
letter
distributions.

Of
all
the
source
bases
that
speak
to
mobility
from
this
period,
ceramics
align

most
closely
with
the
types
of
travel
–
impermanent
and
relatively
short-‐distance
–

to
which
letters
also
speak.
Amphorae
from
Tunisia
appearing
in
Marseille
or
Rome

speak
to
long-‐distance
exchange
networks,
but
the
smaller-‐scale
distribution
of
a

pottery
type
from
Marseille
or
the
northern
Meseta
on
a
regional
level
is
every
bit
as

revealing
about
the
movements
of
local
negotiatores.
46

These
are
people
who,
by

and
large,
do
not
appear
in
written
sources.
Moreover,
while
no
other
body
of

material
comes
close
to
the
sheer
volume
of
ceramics,
letters
provide
the
largest

45

Reynolds,
Hispania
and
the
Roman
Mediterranean,

91-‐119.

46

Wickham,
Framing,

741-‐3
and
746-‐8
with
Reynolds,
“Ceramics
and
Trade,”

404-‐
6.

26

comparable
amount
of
material
and
offer
the
best
possibility
of
emulating
its

granular,
detailed
approach
to
the
topic.

Prosopography
is
another
important
emerging
tool
for
examining
mobility.

Michael
McCormick’s
magisterial
Origins
of
the
European
Economy
built
in
large
part

on
a
prosopographical
database
of
669
early
medieval
travelers
from
the
period

between
700
and
900,
drawn
from
a
vast
array
of
sources
in
Greek,
Latin,
Old

Church
Slavonic,
and
judiciously
from
Arabic
and
Hebrew
sources.
This
is
a
sizable

sample
culled
from
a
truly
vast
array
of
material,
and
it
is
nearly
exhaustive
for
the

period
under
investigation.
47

Most
of
McCormick’s
sample
traveled
considerable

distances
in
the
realm
of
500
to
1000
kilometers,
and
most
of
them
–
some
480,
by

his
count
–
were
diplomats
or
religious
travelers,
making
them
the
best-‐attested

group.
In
the
terminology
of
this
project,
McCormick’s
sample
of
travelers
was

exclusively
long-‐distance.

On
the
basis
of
this
sizable
sample,
McCormick
constructed
a
series
of

collective
portraits
of
travel
in
the
period.
The
movements
of
these
attested

travelers,
to
McCormick,
serve
a
proxy
marker
for
the
underlying
networks
and

infrastructure
that
must
have
existed
in
order
to
make
their
travel
physically

possible.
Diplomats
may
have
moved
on
state-‐owned
ships
in
some
cases,
but

pilgrims
certainly
did
not,
and
therefore
there
must
have
been
merchant
vessels

traversing
the
Mediterranean
at
fairly
regular
intervals.
Moreover,
merchants

themselves
occasionally
served
as
diplomatic
arbiters,
or
disguised
themselves
as

pilgrims
in
order
to
avoid
paying
tolls.
In
sum,
the
evidence
of
prosopography
points

47

McCormick,
Origins,

123-‐277;
his
rundown
of
the
broad
contours
of
his
sample

can
be
found
on

123-‐5.

27

to
a
substantial
volume
of
travelers
and
a
relatively
dense
infrastructure
of
regular

trade
across
the
Mediterranean.
48

From
the
foundation
of
that
prosopographical
database,
McCormick
layers
a

series
of
studies
of
goods
and
coinage
that
moved
along
with
thorough

investigations
of
routes
and
speeds
of
travel.
Eventually,
he
concludes,
the
only

possible
explanation
for
the
amount
of
silver
that
poured
into
Europe
between
750

and
900
was
a
massive
volume
of
exports
in
the
form
of
slaves.
While
the
slave
trade

had
always
transferred
people
across
the
Mediterranean,
its
expansion
in
scale
was

what
drove
the
eventual
growth
of
the
European
economy
into
the
central
and
later

Middle
Ages.
49

Prosopography
therefore
provides
both
a
substantial
database
of
travelers
in

its
own
right
and
the
foundation
for
a
broader
study.
As
a
method
on
its
own,

however,
prosopography
leaves
a
great
deal
to
be
desired.
First
and
foremost

among
these
is
the
limited
cross-‐section
of
society
from
whom
named
or

anonymous
travelers
mentioned
in
sources
were
drawn.
The
reason
diplomats
and

religious
travelers
appear
as
such
a
disproportionately
high
percentage
of

McCormick’s
travelers
is
because
that
is
precisely
the
segment
on
whom
early

medieval
written
sources
tend
to
focus.
Ships’
crew,
merchants,
and
the
slaves
on

whose
backs
the
early
medieval
economy
was
built
almost
never
appear
in
their

own
right.
McCormick
acknowledges
this
in
some
depth,
but
since
his
concern
is
less

48

Ibid,

270-‐7.

49

The
most
explicit
statement
of
this
can
be
found
on

775-‐7.

28

the
travelers
themselves
than
their
utility
as
proxy
markers
and
comparanda,
it
is

not
a
substantial
concern
for
him.
50

Second,
the
prosopographical
method
is
biased
toward
long
journeys.
Most

of
the
travelers
in
his
database,
according
to
McCormick,
went
500
to
1000

kilometers
or
even
more.
He
touts
this
as
one
of
the
great
finds
of
using

prosopography,
since
it
reveals
that
there
was
in
fact
a
substantial
volume
of
travel

over
long
distances
throughout
the
period
he
investigates,
and
this
is
both
true
and

noteworthy.
51

On
the
other
hand,
however,
this
tendency
showcases
the
limitations

of
a
method
that
relies
on
people
having
written
about
their
travels.
Authors
wrote

about
journeys
that
stood
out
from
the
norm,
not
the
quotidian
travel
that
bound

their
world
together.
A
Frankish
ambassador’s
journey
from
Metz
to
Constantinople

was
an
epic
journey;
a
trip
to
Rheims,
less
so.

The
prosopographical
method
of
assembling
large
numbers
of
journeys
tilts

toward
travel
that
seemed
out
of
the
ordinary.
None
of
this
is
to
say
that

prosopography’s
contributions
to
the
study
of
mobility
in
this
period
are

nonexistent,
just
that
it
has
inherent
limitations
and
must
be
complemented
by

other
methods.
The
period
under
McCormick’s
investigation
is
later
than
that

covered
by
the
letters,
ceramics,
and
other
source
bases,
but
the
same
concerns

would
hold
true
for
the
fifth,
sixth,
and
seventh
centuries.

Inscriptions
provide
another
window
onto
the
study
of
mobility
in
the
late

antique
West.
Mark
Handley’s
Dying
on
Foreign
Shores
collects
623
examples
of

travelers
and
foreigners
commemorated
in
epigraphy
throughout
the

50

McCormick,
Origins,

270-‐1.

51

Ibid,

123-‐5
and
270-‐1.

29

Mediterranean
world
in
Late
Antiquity.
52

This
sample
produces
a
number
of

compelling
conclusions.
First
and
foremost,
the
vast
majority
of
Handley’s
travelers

were
male;
the
proportion
varied
regionally,
but
some
493
of
the
585
whose
gender

could
be
determined
were
men.
This
does
not
mean
that
men
were
necessarily
more

likely
to
travel
than
women,
but
that
men
were
more
likely
to
have
their
travel

recorded
in
this
particular
fashion.
53

Second,
unlike
the
prosopographic
evidence,

inscriptions
include
large
numbers
of
people
from
down
the
social
scale.
The
elites
–

bishops,
nobles,
and
office-‐holders
–
do
appear,
and
probably
disproportionately,

but
so
too
do
soldiers,
sailors,
and
others
of
lower
status.
54

In
general,
however,
the
inscriptions
Handley
examined
do
not
list

occupations
or
the
reasons
for
travel.
When
it
comes
to
origins
and
destination,

however,
the
source
base
is
much
richer.
There
is
little
evidence
for
travel
to
or
from

Britain,
but
Gaul
was
a
region
rich
in
travelers,
as
was
Spain.
Italians
were
a

consistent
presence
across
the
Mediterranean
world,
and
North
Africans
were

especially
likely
to
record
their
presence
in
Italy.
In
the
Balkans,
Salona
was
thick

with
inscriptions
recording
travelers,
and
easterners
–
Syrians
in
particular
–

52

Handley,
Dying
on
Foreign
Shores,

11-‐36
for
his
method.
That
is
a
conservative

estimate,
and
Handley
excludes
numerous
likely
travelers
on
the
basis
of
the

uncertainty
of
onomastics
and
language.
He
does
not
examine
the
city
of
Rome,

which
was
covered
in
great
depth
by
Noy,
Foreigners
at
Rome.
Noy
is
maddeningly

unspecific
about
the
dating
of
these
inscriptions,
however,
and
barely
touches
on

the
later
empire.

53

Ibid,
37-‐8;
cf.
Horden
and
Purcell,
Corrupting
Sea,
p.
386
which
claims
that
travel

was
“essentially
male”
in
late
antiquity.

54

Handley
estimates
that
the
elite
comprise
roughly
5
percent
of
the
sample.
While

he
does
not
point
this
out,
the
sample
includes
almost
nobody
from
the
very
bottom

of
the
social
spectrum,
namely
slaves;
see

41-‐50.

30

appeared
consistently
throughout
the
west.
55

The
evidence
from
the
city
of
Rome

consists
of
thousands
of
examples
of
travelers
and
migrants
from
all
over
the
Roman

world
and
beyond,
but
it
is
more
heavily
concentrated
in
the
early
Empire.
56

The
epigraphic
evidence
is
doubly
valuable
because
unlike
McCormick’s

prosopographical
method,
it
does
record
shorter-‐distance
movements.
Many
of
the

Gauls,
Italians,
or
North
Africans
who
recorded
their
travel
in
stone
had
moved

within
those
regions
rather
than
across
the
boundaries
of
provinces.
26
of
the
70

Gauls
in
Handley’s
sample,
for
example,
moved
within
the
province,
more
than
any

destination
outside
Gaul.
57

The
sample
still
obviously
skews
toward
the
longer-‐
distance
journeys
for
the
same
reason
as
the
prosopographical
method
did,
but
it
is

notable
that
shorter-‐distance
travel
appears
at
all.

Inscriptions
offer
many
benefits
as
a
window
onto
mobility
in
the
period
but

also
have
distinct
limitations.
First
and
foremost,
the
inscriptions
skew
toward

people
who
engaged
in
permanent
travel
rather
than
journeys
of
shorter
duration.

The
preponderance
of
epitaphs
among
the
surviving
evidence
points
in
this

direction,
though
pilgrims’
graffiti
is
an
important
counterbalance.
In
essence,

inscriptions
that
identified
the
dedicatee
as
foreigners
or
travelers
were
identity

statements,
and
those
generally
made
more
sense
on
permanent
rather
than

55

Handley,
Dying,

63-‐97.

56

Noy,
Foreigners
at
Rome,

205-‐67,
lists
chronological
changes
in
the
distribution
of

migrants
from
different
places
–
central
and
eastern
Europeans
were
more
likely
to

appear
in
Rome
during
the
later
empire,
for
example
–
but
is
imprecise
and
does
not

discuss
post-‐imperial
Rome
in
any
meaningful
way.

57

Handley,
Dying,

66-‐7;
in
his
map
of
Gauls’
destinations,
however,
he
explicitly

states,
[T]here
seemed
little
point
in
showing
where
Gauls
reached
within
Gaul.”
I

profoundly
disagree.

31

temporary
grounds.
58

Moreover,
the
further
one
moved
from
home,
the
more
sense

it
made
to
commemorate
one’s
origins:
Eastern
travelers
in
the
west
were
by
far
the

most
likely
to
make
reference
to
their
home
in
every
region
except
for
North

Africa.
59

Second,
despite
the
substantial
number
of
travelers
this
method
identifies,

information
about
those
travelers
is
sorely
lacking.
By
and
large
the
inscriptions
do

not
reveal
occupation
or
the
reason
for
travel.
60

In
sum,
however,
this
body
of

evidence
reinforces
the
impression
of
a
consistently
mobile
Mediterranean
world

and
hints
as
well
toward
movement
within
each
of
its
component
regions.

The
final
source
base
from
which
to
draw
for
the
study
of
mobility
in
this

period
actually
consists
of
two
distinct
methods.
The
use
of
scientific
tools
to

examine
questions
of
movement
and
especially
migration
has
grown
dramatically
in

the
past
decade
and
offers
insights
into
formerly
intractable
problems.
Each
of
these

tools
has
its
own
benefits
and
limitations,
not
the
least
of
which
is
the
difficulty
of

communicating
across
the
divide
between
the
sciences
and
the
humanities.
61

The

reams
of
new
evidence
these
methods
make
available
are
stunning,
since
they
make

use
of
an
abundant
material:
human
remains.
First,
studies
of
DNA,
both
ancient
and

present-‐day,
offer
insight
into
migration
and
population
structure
on
a
large
scale.

This
method
has
been
applied
to
periods
ranging
from
prehistory
to
the
Anglo-‐

58

This
premise
of
permanent
movement
effectively
underlies
both
Noy,
Foreigners

at
Rome,
and
Handley,
Dying,
though
neither
deals
with
it
explicitly;
see
Noy

1-‐12

on
his
view
of
the
limitations
of
his
evidence.

59

Handley,
Dying;
see
tables
on
p.
66,
69,
72,
77,
and
78
and
his
discussion

82-‐96.

60

102
of
623,
by
Handley’s
count,
list
either
status
or
an
occupation;
p.
43.

61

On
which
see
Michael
McCormick,
“History's
Changing
Climate:
Climate
Science,

Genomics,
and
the
Emerging
Consilient
Approach
to
Interdisciplinary
History,”

Journal
of
Interdisciplinary
History
Vol.
42
no.
2,
2011,

251-‐273.

32

Saxon
migrations
with
mixed
results.
62

It
takes
dozens,
hundreds,
or
preferably

thousands
of
samples
to
make
genetics
a
useful
tool
for
studying
large-‐scale,
long-‐
term
population
movements,
however,
and
few
late
antique
or
early
medieval

genomes
are
available.
63

Second,
and
much
more
usefully
than
DNA,
stable
isotope

analysis
provides
direct
evidence
of
movement
on
a
personal
level.
The
ratio
of

oxygen
or
strontium
isotopes
in
the
person’s
teeth
reveal
the
underlying
geology
of

the
place
that
person
spent
her
or
his
childhood.
There
are
limitations
to
the

method,
but
they
are
well
understood.
64

Isotope
analysis
has
been
fruitfully
applied

62

Prehistory:
most
recently
Ayça
Omrak
et.
al.,
“Genomic
Evidence
Establishes

Anatolia
as
the
Source
of
the
European
Neolithic
Gene
Pool,”
Current
Biology
26

(2016),
270-‐5;
Iain
Mathieson
et.
al,
“Genome-‐wide
patterns
of
selection
in
230

ancient
Eurasians,”
Nature
528
(2015),
499-‐503;
Zuzana
Hofmanova
and
Susanne

Kreutzer
et.
al.,
“Early
farmers
from
across
Europe
directly
descended
from

Neolithic
Aegeans,”
biorXiv,
November
2015,
biorXiv
doi:

http://dx.doi.org/10.1101/032763.
Anglo-‐Saxon:
Michael
E.
Weale,
Deborah
A.

Weiss,
Rolf
F.
Jager,
Neil
Bradman,
and
Mark
G.
Thomas,
“Y
Chromosome
Evidence

for
Anglo-‐Saxon
Mass
Migration,”
Molecular
Biology
and
Evolution
19
(2002),
1008-‐
1021;
Mark
G.
Thomas,
Michael
P.H.
Stumpf,
and
Heinrich
Härke,
“Evidence
for
an

apartheid-‐like
social
structure
in
early
Anglo-‐Saxon
England,”
Proceedings
of
the

Royal
Society
of
Biology
273
(2006),
2651-‐2657;
Bryan
Sykes,
Saxons,
Vikings,
and

Celts:
The
Genetic
Roots
of
Britain
and
Ireland
(New
York:
Norton,
2006);
Michael
E.

Jones,
“Text,
Artifact,
and
Genome:
The
Disputed
Nature
of
the
Anglo-‐Saxon

Migration
into
Britain,”
in
Ralph
W.
Mathisen
and
Danuta
Shanzer
(eds.),
Romans,

Barbarians,
and
the
Transformation
of
the
Roman
World
(Burlington:
Ashgate,
2011),

331-‐342;
Stephan
Schiffels
et.
al.,
“Iron
Age
and
Anglo-‐Saxon
genomes
from
East

England
reveal
British
migration
history,”
Nature
Communications
7
(2016);
see
also

Stephen
Leslie
et.
al.,
“The
fine-‐scale
structure
of
the
British
population,”
Nature
519

(2015),
309-‐14

63

Note,
however,
the
recent
publication
of
an
interdisciplinary
piece
using
genetics

as
one
tool
among
several:
Yves
Gleize
et.
al.,
“Early
Medieval
Muslim
Graves
in

France:
First
Archaeological,
Anthropological
and
Palaeogenomic
Evidence,”
PLoS

ONE
11(2):
e0148583.
doi:10.1371/journal.pone.0148583,
2016.

64

On
isotope
analysis,
see
fundamentally
Marina
Vohberger,
“Past,
present
and

future
perspectives
in
stable
isotope
analysis:
capabilities
and
constraints,”

European
Journal
of
Post-‐classical
Archaeologies
3
(2013),
7-‐24;
Gisela
Grupe,
“Stable

isotope
sourcing
in
physical
anthropology:
application
of
mixing
models,”
European

Journal
of
Post-‐classical
Archaeologies
3
(2013),
25-‐40;
Susanne
Hakenbeck,

33

to
both
the
study
of
the
Roman
Empire
and
the
following
period
on
which
this

project
focuses
with
compelling
results.
65

Letters
offer
something
entirely
new
to
these
discussions
of
mobility,
filling

in
the
relatively
short-‐distance
and
short-‐term
travel
that
bound
this
world

together.
These
different
source
bases
do
not
necessarily
tell
the
same
story,
and
the

points
of
both
agreement
and
contrast
reveal
the
depth
and
complexity
of
mobility

in
late
antiquity.
Letters
are
a
fundamental
and
hitherto
overlooked
part
of
that

conversation.

Conceptual
and
Methodological
Bases

McCormick’s
Origins
of
the
European
Economy
builds
an
entire
interpretive

edifice
on
its
prosopographical
method.
The
journeys
of
long-‐distance
travelers,
he

argues,
reveal
a
hidden
infrastructure
of
economic
activity
that
made
their
journeys

possible.
Pilgrims
and
diplomats,
in
other
words,
did
not
build
and
crew
their
own

“Potentials
and
limitations
of
isotope
analysis
in
Early
Medieval
archaeology,”

European
Journal
of
Post-‐classical
Archaeologies
3
(2013),
95-‐111;
Kristina
Killgrove,

“Biohistory
of
the
Roman
Republic:
the
potential
of
isotope
analysis
of
human

skeletal
remains,”
European
Journal
of
Post-‐classical
Archaeologies
3
(2013),
41-‐62.

65

Kristina
Killgrove,
Migration
and
Mobility
in
Imperial
Rome,
unpublished
PhD

dissertation,
University
of
North
Carolina,
2010;
p.
iii
for
abstract.
Killgrove’s
study

utilized
183
sets
of
skeletal
remains
from
low-‐status
cemeteries
in
the
city’s

suburbium.
Susanne
Hakenbeck
et.
al.,
“Diet
and
Mobility
in
Early
Medieval
Bavaria:

A
Study
of
Carbon
and
Nitrogen
Stable
Isotopes,”
American
Journal
of
Physical

Anthropology
143
(2010),
235-‐49.
See
also
Susanne
Hakenbeck,
Local,
Regional,
and

Ethnic
Identities
in
Early
Medieval
Cemeteries
in
Bavaria,
Florence:
All’Insegna
del

Giglio,
2011.
Janet
Montgomery
et.
al.,
“Continuity
or
Colonization
in
Anglo-‐Saxon

England?
Isotope
Evidence
for
Mobility,
Subsistence
Practice,
and
Status
at
West

Heslerton,”
American
Journal
of
Physical
Anthropology
126
(2005),
123-‐38.
M.P.

Richards
et.
al.,
“Stable
Carbon
and
Nitrogen
Isotope
Values
of
Bone
and
Teeth

Reflect
Weaning
Age
at
the
Medieval
Wharram
Percy
Site,
Yorkshire,
UK,”
American

Journal
of
Physical
Anthropology
119
(2002),
205-‐10;
Angela
L.
Lamb
et.
al.,
“Multi-‐
isotope
analysis
demonstrates
significant
lifestyle
changes
in
King
Richard
III,”

Journal
of
Archaeological
Science
50
(2014),
559-‐65.

34

ships
or
carve
out
their
own
roads.
This
is
a
compelling
and
convincing
argument,

and
one
that
applies
just
as
strongly
to
the
shorter-‐distance
journeys
of
thousands

of
letter-‐carriers
several
hundred
years
prior.
Couriers
traveled
over
roads,
across

bridges,
through
ports,
and
on
boats
and
ships
that
served
other
purposes,
and
the

ubiquity
of
their
travels
points
to
the
same
buried
infrastructure
as
McCormick’s

study.
We
may
not
have
port
records
from
the
city
of
Arles,
for
example,
but
we
do

have
evidence
of
dozens
of
letter-‐carriers
passing
through
the
city.
66

The
second
major
underlying
conceptual
basis
for
this
project
is
the
concept

of
connectivity
as
popularized
by
Peregrine
Horden
and
Nicholas
Purcell
in
their

magisterial
work,
The
Corrupting
Sea.
In
their
definition,
connectivity
represents
the

ways
in
which
the
various
ecological
microregions
cohere
into
larger
aggregates

that
might
range
in
size
from
a
small
cluster
to
something
like
the
entire

Mediterranean,
as
in
the
case
of
the
Roman
Empire.
These
connections
take
many

forms
in
Horden
and
Purcell’s
conception,
ranging
from
long-‐distance
trade

between
ports
to
the
more
quotidian
activities
of
short-‐distance
hops
along
the

coast.
67

Connectivity
is
a
central
concept
in
this
project.
Letters
and
the
journeys

that
carried
them
from
place
to
place
represent
one
distinct
and
concrete
form
of

connectivity
that
created
networks
that
bound
people
and
places
together
into

distinct
regions.
Information
flowed
along
these
networks,
where
distance
between

places
was
defined
not
so
much
by
physical
distance
as
by
degrees
of
separation.
68

66

On
which
see
Chapter
5.

67

Peregrine
Horden
and
Nicholas
Purcell,
The
Corrupting
Sea
(London:
Blackwell,

2000).
Their
definition
can
be
found
on
p.
123,
and
see

123-‐72
more
generally.

68

On
networks,
I
have
loosely
adapted
the
concepts
of
Manuel
Castells,
The
Rise
of

the
Network
Society:
The
Information
Age:
Economy,
Society,
and
Culture,
Volume
I

35

Particularly
in
the
later
chapters
of
this
project,
when
its
mode
of
analysis
moves

from
authors
and
collections
to
broader
issues
of
mobility,
place,
and
routes,
the

influence
of
Horden
and
Purcell’s
conception
of
cohering
microregions
becomes

clear.

Historiography:
Decline,
Fall,
Transformation

The
series
of
changes
that
transformed
the
Roman
Empire
in
the
West
from
a

single
political
unit
into
a
cluster
of
separate
kingdoms
between
400
and
700
is

complex
and
multifaceted.
So
too
have
been
the
approaches
to
these
changes
over

the
last
240
years
since
William
Gibbon
wrote
his
magisterial
History
of
the
Decline

and
Fall
of
the
Roman
Empire.
69

In
recent
decades,
two
debates
have
dominated
the

discussion
of
this
complex
of
political,
social,
and
economic
changes
that
we

associate
with
the
end
of
Rome
as
a
single
political
unit
in
the
west.
70

The
first
regards
the
role
of
the
barbarians
–
Huns,
Franks,
Saxons,
Alamanni,

Heruli,
Thuringi,
and
especially
Goths
–
in
this
process.
Were
the
barbarians

responsible
for
the
death
of
the
Roman
Empire,
or
were
lazy,
apathetic,
cowardly

Romans
responsible
for
the
end
of
their
empire?
A.H.M.
Jones
has
the
classic

formulation
of
the
latter
point
of
view
in
his
magisterial
The
Later
Roman
Empire:

“The
most
depressing
feature
of
the
later
empire
is
the
apparent
absence
of
public

(Malden:
Blackwell,
1996),
particularly
his
discussions
of
hubs
and
nodes
if
not
his

terminology.
The
work
of
Edward
W.
Soja,
Postmodern
Geographies:
The
Reassertion

of
Space
in
Critical
Social
Theory
(London:
Verso,
1989)
has
also
been
influential.
For

an
application
of
network
theory
to
the
ancient
world,
see
Irad
Malkin,
A
Small

Greek
World:
Networks
in
the
Ancient
Mediterranean
(Oxford:
Oxford
University

Press,
2011);
see
in
particular

3-‐15
for
the
theoretical
background.

69

Edward
Gibbon,
The
History
of
the
Decline
and
Fall
of
the
Roman
Empire,
ed.
J.B.

Bury
(New
York:
Fred
de
Fau
and
Company,
1906),
is
one
edition.

70

The
broad
outlines
of
these
two
debates
go
back
to
the
nineteenth
century
and

before,
however.

36

spirit…Under
the
Principate
decurions
had
been
inspired
by
pride
in
their
cities
and

a
laudable
ambition
to
win
the
approbation
of
their
fellow
citizens.
In
the
later

empire
the
government
had
to
compel
them
not
to
shirk
their
duty.”
71

The
French

historian
André
Piganiol
expressed
precisely
the
opposite
sentiment:
“La
civilization

Romaine
n’est
pas
morte
de
sa
belle
mort;
elle
est
assassinée.”
72

Roman
civilization

did
not
die
a
natural
death;
it
was
murdered,
according
to
Piganiol.
In
Jones’
view,

and
that
of
many
others,
the
Romans
could
not
be
bothered
to
fight
for
their
empire.

In
Piganiol’s,
the
empire
would
have
lasted
indefinitely
if
not
for
the
external
shock

of
the
barbarians.
73

Either
way,
the
barbarians
played
a
central
role;
this
much
is
without

question.
74

Recent
research
has
focused
heavily
on
the
question
of
the
barbarians’

ethnic
identity,
and
precisely
how
they
defined
themselves
in
relation
to
the
Roman

societies
–
for,
as
the
previously
cited
work
on
the
Roman
Empire
as
a
diverse
and

hybrid
space
makes
clear,
this
was
not
a
singular
society
–
in
which
they
settled.
75

In

the
most
optimistic
view,
held
by
such
scholars
as
Reinhard
Wenskus
and
his

successor
Herwig
Wolfram,
texts
of
this
period
offer
a
direct
view
into
the
primeval

ethnic
identities
of
the
barbarians.
While
the
overall
makeup
of
the
tribe
in
question

71

A.H.M.
Jones,
The
Later
Roman
Empire,
284-‐602
(London:
Blackwell,
1964),
1058

and
following.

72

André
Piganiol,
L’Empire
Chrétien
(325-‐395)
(Paris:
Les
Presses
Universitaires
de

France,
1947),
422.

73

In
that
same
tradition,
Lucien
Musset,
Les
Invasions:
Les
vagues
germaniques

(Paris:
Presses
universitaires
de
France,
1965).
Ernst
Stein,
Histoire
du
Bas-‐Empire

(Paris:
Desclée
de
Brouwer,
1949)
is
more
measured.

74

E.g.
Michael
Kulikowski,
Rome’s
Gothic
Wars:
From
the
Third
Century
to
Alaric

(Cambridge:
Cambridge
University
Press,
2007).
Kulikowski
focuses
on
the
late

Roman
state,
but
still
finds
plenty
of
room
for
the
barbarians
as
important
players.

75

See
above,
n.
16-‐18.

37

might
have
changed
dramatically
as
it
moved
from
its
original
homeland
into
the

Roman
Empire,
the
tribal
aristocracy
and
especially
the
royal
family
retained
a
core

of
tradition
and
a
royal
name
–
Traditionskern,
in
the
parlance
of
these
scholars
–

from
which
new
followers
could
forge
a
sense
of
themselves
as
members
of
the

Franks,
Goths,
Lombards,
or
any
other
tribal
group.
76

It
is
a
flexible
theory,
known
as

ethnogenesis,
which
can
be
applied
outside
the
bounds
of
Germanic-‐speaking
tribal

groups.
77

Others,
however,
point
out
the
more-‐
and
less-‐obvious
problems
with
this

line
of
reasoning.
Early
medieval
tribal
origin
legends,
such
as
they
exist
today,
were

filtered
through
the
literary
lens
of
the
Roman
world.
They
do
not
offer
direct
access

to
a
tribal
reality
that
stretches
back
centuries
or
millennia
before
the
Goths’
or

Franks’
entry
into
the
Roman
Empire.
78

The
uneasy
synthesis
of
these
two
points
of

76
Fundamentally
Reinhard
Wenskus,
Stammesbildung
und
Verfassung;
das
Werden

der
frühmittelalterlichen
Gentes
(Köln:
Böhlau,
1961);
Herwig
Wolfram,
Geschichte

der
Goten:
von
den
Anfängen
bis
zur
Mitte
des
sechsten
Jahrhunderts:
Entwurf
einer

historischen
Ethnographie
(Munich:
C.H.
Beck,
1979).
This
perspective
grows

directly
out
of
the
German
scholarly
tradition
known
as
Germanisches

Alterumskunde;
on
its
genesis,
see
Alexander
Callander
Murray,
“Reinhard
Wenskus

on
‘Ethnogenesis’:
Ethnicity
and
the
Origins
of
the
Franks,”
in
Andrew
Gillett
(ed.),

On
Barbarian
Identity:
Critical
Approaches
to
Ethnicity
in
the
Early
Middle
Ages

(Turnhout:
Brepols,
2002),
39-‐68.

77

E.g.
Walter
Pohl,
Die
Awaren:
ein
Steppenvolk
in
Mitteleuropa,
567-‐822
n.
Chr.

(Munich:
Beck,
1988);
Florin
Curta,
The
Making
of
the
Slavs:
History
and
Archaeology

of
the
Lower
Danube
Region,
c.
500-‐700
(Cambridge:
Cambridge
University
Press,

2001).

78

Walter
Goffart,
Narrators
of
Barbarian
History
(A.D.
550-‐800):
Jordanes,
Gregory
of

Tours,
Bede,
and
Paul
the
Deacon
(Princeton:
Princeton
University
Press,
1988),
was

the
opening
salvo
in
this
war
of
words;
Walter
Goffart,
Barbarian
Tides:
The

Migration
Age
and
the
Later
Roman
Empire
(Philadelphia:
University
of

Pennsylvania
Press,
2005);
see
also
the
collected
essays
in
Gillett
(ed.),
On
Barbarian

Identity,
for
the
most
virulent
critiques.

38

view
suggests
that
ethnicity
was
an
important
but
situational
construct
to
which

surviving
texts
offer
only
scanty
access.
79

Ethnicity
was
a
serious
debate,
but
to
a
large
extent
it
missed
the
point.

Whatever
the
barbarians
brought
with
them
into
the
Roman
Empire,
they
were

acting
within
Roman
political
structures
and
within
its
social,
political,
and

economic
spaces.
The
other
has
to
do
with
how
we
should
view
this
period
as
a

whole.
Did
the
Roman
Empire
decline
and
fall,
or
did
the
world
the
Romans
had

built
in
the
west
simply
evolve
into
something
new
and
different?
Obviously,
there

are
value
judgments
at
play,
and
precisely
what
constitutes
decline
or

transformation
is
up
for
debate.
To
Jones
and
Piganiol,
or
to
Gibbon,
there
was
no

question
as
to
whether
what
came
with
the
late
empire
and
after
was
better
or

worse
than
the
peak
of
the
Principate:
It
was
worse.

That
is
less
certain
today.
The
rehabilitation
of
the
late
empire
and
its

successors,
particularly
in
the
Greek-‐speaking
East,
began
with
Peter
Brown
and
his

concept
of
a
long
Late
Antiquity.
According
to
Brown,
what
came
after
the
Principate

was
not
inherently
degenerate
or
less
worthwhile
than
what
had
existed
at
the

height
of
the
empire.
80

Brown
focuses
heavily
on
society,
culture,
and
religion
rather

79

The
summary
of
Guy
Halsall,
Barbarian
Migrations
and
the
Roman
West,
376-‐568

(Cambridge:
Cambridge
University
Press,
2007),
14-‐19,
is
indispensable.
The
most

nuanced
form
of
this
emphasis
on
ethnicity
is
Walter
Pohl,
“Telling
the
Difference:

Signs
of
Ethnic
Identity,”
in
Walter
Pohl
and
Helmut
Reimitz
(eds.),
Strategies
of

Distinction:
The
Construction
of
Ethnic
Communities,
300-‐800
(Leiden:
Brill,
1998),

17-‐69.

80

Peter
Brown,
The
World
of
Late
Antiquity,
New
York:
Harcourt,
1971.
His
seminal

article,
“The
Rise
and
Function
of
the
Holy
Man
in
Late
Antiquity,”
The
Journal
of

Roman
Studies
61
(1971),
80-‐101,
argued
forcefully
for
a
unique
emerging

spirituality
in
the
period
and
foreshadowed
The
World
of
Late
Antiquity
in
important

ways.

39

than
politics,
but
he
explicitly
emphasized
the
Mediterranean
and
Mesopotamia.

“The
narrative
itself
gravitates
toward
the
eastern
Mediterranean;
the
account
ends

more
naturally
at
the
Baghdad
of
Harun
al-‐Rashid
than
at
the
remote
Aachen
of
his

contemporary,
Charlemagne,”
Brown
wrote,
and
his
subsequent
work
focuses

heavily
on
the
areas
in
which
he
had
indicated
his
interests;
so
too
does
most
of
the

work
that
focuses
explicitly
on
Late
Antiquity
as
a
period
of
investigation.
81

Still,
this
more
optimistic
tone
has
not
entirely
skipped
the
post-‐imperial

West.
The
14
volumes
of
the
“Transformation
of
the
Roman
World”
series,
the

product
of
a
five-‐year
European
Science
Foundation
project
on
the
era
between
the

fourth
and
eighth
centuries,
represent
the
culmination
of
this
trend.
82

According
to

81

Ibid,
p.
9;
e.g.
Peter
Brown,
Society
and
the
Holy
in
Late
Antiquity
(Berkeley
and

Los
Angeles:
University
of
California
Press,
1982);
Peter
Brown,
Power
and

Persuasion
in
Late
Antiquity:
Toward
a
Christian
Empire
(Madison:
University
of

Wisconsin
Press,
1992);
Peter
Brown,
Poverty
and
Leadership
in
the
Later
Roman

Empire
(Hanover:
Brandeis
University
Press,
2002).
For
the
work
of
Brown’s

students,
see
e.g.
Megan
Hale
Williams,
The
Monk
and
the
Book
(Chicago:
University

of
Chicago
Press,
2006).
The
recent
Oxford
Handbook
of
Late
Antiquity
featured
as

many
chapters
on
early
Islam
(two)
as
it
did
explicitly
on
the
post-‐imperial
West:

Scott
Fitzgerald
Johnson
(ed.),
The
Oxford
Handbook
of
Late
Antiquity
(Oxford:

Oxford
University
Press,
2012).
There
are
exceptions,
however,
e.g.
Kate
Cooper,
The

Fall
of
the
Roman
Household
(Cambridge:
Cambridge
University
Press,
2008),
which

focuses
on
household
life
in
Ostrogothic
Italy
without
treating
it
as
a
degeneration

from
the
earlier
period.

82

The
series
began
with
Walter
Pohl
(ed.),
Kingdoms
of
the
Empire:
The
Integration

of
Barbarians
in
Late
Antiquity,
Leiden:
Brill,
1997.
Pohl’s
introduction
to
that

volume,
“Introduction:
The
Empire
and
the
Integration
of
Barbarians,”
1-‐12,

provides
a
succinct
overview
of
its
historiographic
position.
The
series
covers

everything
from
the
barbarians,
as
with
Pohl’s
volume,
to
agriculture,
with
Miquel

Barceló
and
François
Sigaut
(eds.),
The
Making
of
Feudal
Agricultures?
Leiden:
Brill,

2004.
Note
the
discussion
of
Halsall,
Barbarian
Migrations,
19-‐22,
on
the

contribution
of
the
series.
For
a
salient
critique
regarding
the
project’s
failures

regarding
gender,
see
Julia
M.H.
Smith,
“Did
Women
Have
a
Transformation
of
the

Roman
World?”
Gender
and
History
12
(2000),
552-‐571.
An
intriguing
perspective

on
gender
and
the
transformation
is
Guy
Halsall,
“Gender
and
the
End
of
Empire,”

Journal
of
Medieval
and
Early
Modern
Studies
34
(2004),
17-‐39,
which
argues
for
a

40

this
line
of
reasoning,
the
events
of
the
fourth
and
fifth
centuries
are
too
often

rendered
as
cataclysmic,
and
overshadow
the
long-‐term
transformations
of
the

economy,
urban
life,
ethnicity,
and
political
structures
in
the
period.
This
is
not
an

entirely
new
idea:
N.D.
Fustel
de
Coulanges
expressed
the
idea
that
little
changed
in

Gaul
with
the
barbarian
invasions
in
the
nineteenth
century,
for
example.
The

famous
“Pirenne
thesis”
of
Henri
Pirenne
stipulated
a
rupture
in
the
seventh

century,
when
the
arrival
of
Islam
in
North
Africa
and
the
Levant
led
to
the

dissolution
of
the
Roman
world-‐system,
rather
than
one
in
the
fifth
or
sixth

centuries.
83

The
contrary
point
of
view
still
exists,
however,
and
in
the
ferocious
form

articulated
most
recently
by
Bryan
Ward-‐Perkins.
The
level
of
material

sophistication
declined,
the
population
dropped
by
orders
of
magnitude,
urban
life

disappeared
in
many
places,
and
in
general,
and
the
coming
of
the
barbarians
was

marked
by
high
levels
of
violence.
84

In
other
words,
there
was
indeed
a
decline
and
a

precipitous
fall.
Things
got
worse.
Even
in
a
milder
form,
however,
there
is
no

fundamental
transformation
of
elite
masculinity
as
a
driving
force
behind
structural

changes.
A
more
traditional
view
of
the
period
is
Peter
Heather,
The
Fall
of
the

Roman
Empire:
A
New
History
of
Rome
and
the
Barbarians
(Oxford:
Oxford

University
Press,
2005),
followed
by
his
Empires
and
Barbarians:
Migration,

Development
and
the
Birth
of
Europe
(London:
Macmillan,
2009).
Both
mark
a

departure
from
his
more
evidentially
sound
approach
in
The
Goths
(Oxford:

Blackwell,
1996).

83

N.D.
Fustel
de
Coulanges,
L’Invasion
Germanique
et
la
fin
de
la
empire
(Paris:

Hachette,
1891);
Henri
Pirenne,
Mohammed
and
Charlemagne
(London:
G.
Allen
and

Unwin,
1939).

84

Bryan
Ward-‐Perkins,
The
Fall
of
Rome:
And
the
End
of
Civilization
(Oxford:
Oxford

University
Press,
2006).

For
a
more
measured
perspective,
see
Halsall,
Barbarian

Migrations.
The
best
overview
of
the
period,
taking
into
account
both
cultural

change
and
social
and
economic
upheaval,
is
Wickham,
Framing
the
Early
Middle

Ages.

41

question
that
the
unity
of
the
Roman
world
came
to
an
end.
Guy
Halsall
recently

observed,
“The
Roman
world
was
not
murdered
and
nor
did
it
die
a
natural
death;
it

accidentally
committed
suicide.”
85

Romans
made
thousands
of
small
decisions
that

in
the
aggregate
dissolved
the
unity
of
their
empire
and
their
world.

Except
tangentially,
the
question
of
mobility
and
communication
never
come

under
serious
consideration
in
these
volumes.
For
an
empire
that
acted
as
an

interconnected
space
for
the
exchange
of
ideas,
cultural
practices,
and
goods,
which

relied
on
ease
of
mobility
and
communication
to
produce
its
cosmopolitan
cities,

one
would
think
that
their
disappearance
or
continuation
would
be
an
essential

topic
of
research.
This
project
does
not
fall
fully
in
line
with
Ward-‐Perkins’s
fire-‐
and-‐brimstone
formulation
–
new
possibilities
of
communication
and
mobility
did

emerge
in
the
period
under
investigation
–
but
it
does
suggest
that
in
general,
things

did
in
fact
get
worse.
The
evidence
of
the
letters
demonstrates
that
new
borders
and

frontiers
inhibited
communication
and
movement.
This
was
both
a
result
of
the

political,
social,
and
economic
changes
that
we
associate
with
the
fall
of
the
Roman

Empire
and
a
cause
of
dislocation
and
regionalization.

Structure
of
the
Project

This
project
moves
from
the
smallest
to
the
largest
scale,
from
individual

collections
of
letters
to
groups
of
collections
and
finally
to
the
aggregate
whole,

exploring
different
questions
about
mobility
and
the
transformation
of
the
Roman

world
in
each
chapter.

85

Halsall,
Barbarian
Migrations,
p.
283.

42

Chapter
1
begins
with
the
letters
themselves.
They
do
not
exist
today
as

neatly
folded
and
rolled
pieces
of
papyrus
that
physically
traveled
from
one
place
to

another
in
the
period
under
investigation;
instead,
they
survive
as
manuscript

copies,
with
a
long
history
of
editing
and
copying
in
the
last
1500
years.
This
chapter

examines
the
reality
of
letters,
the
history
of
each
individual
collection
that
makes

up
the
project’s
corpus,
and
how
the
editorial
process
transformed
each
author’s

works
in
the
journey
from
papyrus
to
manuscripts.
Some
collections,
such
as
the

Variae
of
the
Ostrogothic
official
and
later
monastic
enthusiast
Cassiodorus
(c.
485-‐
585)
or
the
nine
books
of
Sidonius
Apollinaris
(c.
430-‐489),
were
edited
heavily
by

their
authors,
and
represent
conscious
constructions.
Others,
like
the
letters
of

Bishop
Avitus
of
Vienne
(c.
470-‐519),
were
copied
haphazardly
at
several
different

points.
Still
others,
such
as
papal
letters
of
the
fifth
and
sixth
centuries
prior
to

Gregory
the
Great,
survive
scattered
in
individual
collections
of
decretals.

While
each
collection
has
its
own
editorial
history,
there
are
some

commonalities
that
shape
the
corpus
as
a
whole.
First,
short-‐distance
letters
–

defined
as
those
traveling
fewer
than
three
days
from
the
point
of
composition
–
are

drastically
underrepresented
in
the
sample
as
a
whole.
Second,
the
letters
that

survive
today
represent
only
a
small
fraction
of
what
once
existed,
as
a
case
study

comparison
of
diplomatic
letters
and
the
sixth-‐century
historian
Gregory
of
Tours’

records
of
embassies
makes
clear.
These
are
essential
things
to
keep
in
mind
when

using
letters
as
a
source
base,
and
those
limitations,
possibilities,
and
idiosyncrasies

are
the
focus
of
the
first
chapter.

43

Chapter
2
moves
outward
from
the
individual
collections
to
a
group
of
four

related
authors,
the
“Gallo-‐Roman
epistolographers.”
It
examines,
collection
by

collection,
the
geographic
boundaries
that
emerge
from
in-‐depth
analysis
of
where

Sidonius
Apollinaris,
Ruricius
of
Limoges,
Ennodius
of
Pavia,
and
Avitus
of
Vienne

sent
their
letters.
This
analysis
demonstrates
first
that
political
boundaries
defined

the
geographic
distribution
of
their
letters
in
meaningful
ways,
and
second
that

those
boundaries
shifted
and
hardened
over
time.
Sidonius
Apollinaris,
who
began

writing
in
the
460s,
had
wide-‐ranging
contacts
throughout
Gaul
and
Italy.
Over
the

course
of
his
life,
however,
his
epistolary
circle
grew
more
restricted.
Sidonius’s

kinsman
Ruricius,
a
slightly
later
contemporary,
wrote
only
to
correspondents

within
the
Visigothic
Kingdom.
The
same
pattern
emerges
in
the
letters
of
Avitus
of

Vienne,
while
Ennodius
of
Pavia
had
only
restricted
contacts
within
Gaul.
Put

bluntly,
the
political
changes
in
the
last
several
decades
of
the
fifth
century
–
the
rise

of
new
kingdoms,
wars,
and
other
forms
of
instability
–
placed
serious
restrictions

on
this
quartet’s
geographic
worlds.
These
four
authors
experienced
the

transformation
of
the
Roman
world
as
a
decline
in
their
communicative
possibilities.

Chapter
3
builds
on
the
previous
chapter’s
conclusions,
but
moves
the
focus

outward
again
from
the
correspondence
of
private
figures
to
the
official
letters
of

kings,
bishops,
and
popes.
While
the
political
changes
associated
with
the
fall
of
the

Roman
Empire
inhibited
the
Gallo-‐Roman
epistolographers’
ability
to
communicate

across
the
new
boundaries,
they
created
new
needs
for
kings
to
communicate
with

one
another.
Crisis
necessitated
letters
and
diplomatic
contact
rather
than
inhibiting

it,
as
it
did
for
the
aristocrats.
This
was
likewise
true
for
bishops
and
especially

44

popes,
whose
institutional
connections
could
last
across
generations
even
when
the

political
context
might
amplify
the
difficulties
of
travel
and
communication.
Even

popes,
however,
were
subject
to
the
delimiting
effect
of
boundaries
in
times
of

political
trouble:
Gregory
the
Great
operated
largely
within
the
political
space
that

fell
under
the
control
of
the
Eastern
Empire
in
Italy;
Lombard-‐controlled
areas
are

devoid
of
the
kind
of
in-‐depth
micromanagement
that
defines
his
letter
collection

and
indeed
his
papacy.

Chapter
4
moves
outward
yet
again,
concentrating
on
the
people
who
carried

letters
from
place
to
place
and
firmly
shifting
the
focus
to
human
mobility.
It
argues

that
while
only
343
of
the
extant
letters
name
their
bearer,
the
social
composition

suggests
that,
contrary
to
previous
studies
of
travelers
in
this
period,
people
of
all

ranks
and
occupations
traveled.
The
named
letter
carriers
include
farmers,
slaves,

and
humble
deacons
in
addition
to
envoys,
bishops,
and
pilgrims.
Moreover,
the

carrying
of
letters
was
merely
one
aspect
of
a
world
in
which
people
were
already

on
the
move
–
traveling
merchants
and
priests
carried
letters
as
favors
for
their

social
superiors,
for
example
–
but
the
evidence
also
points
to
the
existence
of

specialized
letter-‐carriers.
For
the
most
part,
these
people
were
not
traveling
long

distances;
instead,
their
journeys,
as
revealed
by
letters,
point
to
the
constant
but

hitherto-‐obscured
and
constant
background
noise
of
short-‐
and
intermediate-‐
distance
travel
that
bound
together
the
post-‐imperial
West.

Chapter
5
continues
the
prior
chapter’s
theme
of
moving
outward.
It

examines
the
broad
contours
of
the
letters
as
they
pertain
to
places
and
routes,

assembling
the
entirety
of
the
surviving
evidence
to
understand
which
cities
and

45

routes
stand
out
the
most.
Rome
and
Constantinople
were,
as
one
might
expect,
the

linchpins
of
the
entire
Mediterranean-‐wide
networks
of
mobility.
Metz
and
Carthage

likewise
stand
out
as
particularly
central
points.
What
is
unexpected
is
the
extent
to

which
smaller
cities,
namely
Salona
and
especially
Arles,
appear
in
the
letters
both

as
destinations
in
themselves
and
as
switchboards,
points
of
changeover,
within
the

transportation
networks
that
allowed
people
to
move
from
place
to
place.
New

regions
formed
and
coalesced
in
the
post-‐imperial
period,
and
letters’
inisights
into

places
and
routes
helps
bring
them
into
focus.

As
markers
of
mobility,
letters
offer
unique
insight
into
a
kind
of
travel
that
is

invisible
in
any
other
source
base.
These
were
brief
journeys
of
a
days
or
weeks

rather
than
months,
and
were
mostly
carried
out
by
people
who
were
anonymous
or

of
little
social
importance.
That
is
precisely
what
makes
them
important.
They
were

quotidian,
regular,
and
unremarkable,
part
of
the
fabric
of
unspoken
and

uninteresting
mobility
that
bound
the
world
together.
Global
spaces
and
the

encounters
that
produce
hybrid
cultural
practices
do
not
exist
without
people
who

move
from
place
to
place,
and
letters
show
us
those
people,
their
travel,
and
how
the

transformation
of
the
Roman
world
altered
the
possibilities
of
their
journeys.

46

Chapter
1:
Letters
as
a
Source
Base

The
corpus
of
letters
that
survives
from
the
Late
Antique
west
is
enormous.
It

is
only
a
tiny
slice
of
the
material
that
once
existed,
and
the
manuscript
collections

of
epistolary
material
are
several
steps
removed
from
the
real
letters
that
traveled

from
place
to
place
in
the
late
antique
world.
People
in
the
period
and
after
made

choices
as
to
which
pieces
of
correspondence
they
saved,
giving
each
collection
a

history
and
provenance
of
its
own.
Those
decisions
shaped
the
geographic

distribution
of
the
surviving
letters.
Understanding
the
extent
to
which
the

surviving
evidence
is
limited
is
essential
to
using
it
in
productive
ways
and
drawing

meaningful
conclusions.

To
that
end,
this
chapter
examines
the
reality
of
letters
in
this
period,

introduces
each
of
the
authors
and
collections
the
project
will
utilize,
and
then

investigates
how,
more
generally,
the
journey
from
physically
extant
letters
to

edited
collections
has
shaped
the
material.
Finally,
it
will
explore
two
specific

manifestations
of
the
processes
that
shaped
the
surviving
corpus
of
letters.
First,

short-‐distance
letters
–
defined
here
as
correspondence
to
destinations
one
to
three

days
distant
from
the
point
of
composition
–
either
existed
only
in
small
numbers
or

were
excluded
during
the
editorial
process.
Oral
messages
likely
replaced
written

correspondence
for
these
short-‐distance
journeys.
1

Second,
only
a
tiny
percentage

of
the
diplomatic
letters
that
once
existed
survive
to
the
present
day.
An
in-‐depth

examination
of
references
to
messengers
and
envoys
in
Gregory
of
Tours’
Histories,

a
text
that
was
particularly
concerned
with
messengers
and
letters
and
which

1

Tangentially,
see
Pauline
Allen,
“Rationales
for
episcopal
letter-‐collections
in
late

antiquity,”
18-‐34
in
Neil
and
Allen
(eds.),
Collecting.

47

features
them
throughout
the
text,
and
a
comparison
with
the
diplomatic
letters
that

remain
shows
just
how
much
has
been
lost.

These
consciously
and
unconsciously
shaped
collections
that
survive
in
later

manuscripts
do
not
reflect
the
reality
of
letters
as
their
authors
sent
them
in
the

fifth,
sixth,
and
seventh
centuries.
2

Papyrus
was
the
preferred
medium
for
letters,

though
non-‐elite
writers
also
used
potsherds
and
tree
bark
or
even
wood,
and

parchment
too
had
come
into
use.
3

Papyrus
would
have
been
the
first
choice
of
all
of

the
letters
with
which
this
project
is
concerned,
however,
and
several
authors

commented
on
their
use
of
it.
Sidonius
Apollinaris
wrote
to
his
friend
Claudianus

Mamertus:
“You
declare…that
I
have
offended
against
the
laws
of
friendship:
you

allege
that
though
it
is
my
turn
to
give
epistolary
greeting,
I
have
let
my
tablets
and

stylus
lie,
and
no
traveller’s
hand
has
been
burdened
with
papyrus
of
mine.”
4

A
first

draft,
he
implies,
would
have
been
written
on
a
wax
tablet
with
a
stylus,
but
the

version
that
went
to
the
recipient
would
be
on
papyrus.
Cassiodorus
even
went
so

2

Joe
Williams,
“Letter
Writing,
Materiality,
and
Gifts
in
Late
Antiquity:
Some

Perspectives
on
Material
Culture,”
Journal
of
Late
Antiquity
7
(2014),
351-‐9.

3

P.J.
Parsons,
“Background:
The
Papyrus
Letter,”
2-‐19
in
Didactica
Classica

Gandensia
20
(1980);
on
tree
bark
and
wood
as
media
for
the
Vindolanda
Tablets,

see
Alan
K.
Bowman,
The
Vindolanda
Writing-‐Tablets
(London:
British
Museum

Press,
2003);
Alan
Bowman,
Life
and
Letters
from
the
Roman
Frontier
(New
York:

Routledge,
1994),
especially
Ch.
2;
R.S.O.
Tomlin,
“The
Vindolanda
Tablets,”

Britannia
27
(1996),
459-‐63;
and
on
the
language
of
the
letters,
J.N.
Adams,
“The

Language
of
the
Vindolanda
Writing
Tablets:
An
Interim
Report,”
Journal
of
Roman

Studies
85
(1995),
86-‐134.
More
generally,
see
Adam
Bülow-‐Jacobsen,
“Writing

Materials
in
the
Ancient
World,”
in
Roger
S.
Bagnall
(ed.),
The
Oxford
Handbook
of

Papyrology
(Oxford:
Oxford
University
Press,
2009),
3-‐29;
Naphtali
Lewis,
Papyrus

in
Classical
Antiquity
(Oxford:
Clarendon
Press,
1974).

4

Sidonius
4.3.
Sidonius
does
occasionally
imply
that
he
used
parchment
as
a

medium
for
letters
–
7.18,
for
example
–
but
parchment
more
often
appears
as
his

medium
for
weightier
written
works,
as
in
5.2.

48

far
as
to
compose
what
amounts
to
a
panegyric
to
papyrus.
Significantly,
he
did
so
in

a
letter:

Papyrus,
so
smooth
and
so
continuous,
the
snowy
entrails
of
a
green
herb;

papyrus
which
can
be
spread
out
to
such
a
vast
extent,
and
yet
be
folded
up

into
so
small
a
space;
papyrus
on
whose
expanse
black
characters
look
so

beautiful;
papyrus
which
keeps
the
sweet
harvest
of
the
mind
and
restores
it

to
the
reader
whenever
he
wishes
to
consult
it;
papyrus
which
is
the
faithful

witness
of
all
human
actions,
eloquent
of
the
past,
a
sworn
foe
of
oblivion.
5

No
papyrus
or
other
original
letters
survive
from
this
period
in
the
west.

Large
numbers
of
papyrus
letters
do
survive
from
Egypt
and
the
east,
however,

where
the
drier
climate
has
allowed
for
much
chance
preservation
of
remains.
6

These
scattered
survivals
are
much
different
than
the
polished
reams
of

correspondence
that
form
the
collections
on
which
this
study
is
based,
particularly

in
language
and
choice
of
subject
matter,
which
tends
to
be
less
literary
and

quotidian.
The
surviving
Egyptian
letters
were
not
only
the
preserve
of
the
elite,

unlike
the
correspondence
that
forms
the
basis
for
this
study.
7

However,
they
speak

to
the
choice
of
writing
material
–
papyrus
–
and
the
physical
form
of
the
letter.

Once
written
on
papyrus,
the
letter
would
have
been
folded
and
addressed,
and
then

5

Variae
11.38.
Translation
from
Thomas
Hodgkin,
The
Letters
of
Cassiodorus:
Being

a
Condensed
Translation
of
the
Variae
Epistolae
of
Magnus
Aurelius
Cassiodorus

Senator
(London:
Henry
Frowde,
1886).

6

On
which
see
Hélène
Cuvigny,
“The
Finds
of
Papyri:
The
Archaeology
of

Papyrology,”
in
Bagnall
(ed.),
Papyrology,
30-‐58.
7

On
the
language
of
these
letters,
see
James
Noel
Adams,
The
Vulgar
Latin
of
the

Letters
of
Claudius
Terentianus
(Manchester:
Manchester
University
Press,
1977);

Hilla
Halla-‐aho,
“Linguistic
Varieties
and
Language
Level
in
Latin
Non-‐Literary

Letters,”
in
T.V.
Evans
and
D.D.
Dobbink
(eds.),
The
Language
of
the
Papyri
(Oxford:

Oxford
University
Press,
2010),
171-‐83;
Hilla
Halla-‐aho,
“Epistolary
Latin,”
in
James

Clackson
(ed.),
A
Companion
to
the
Latin
Language
(London:
Wiley-‐Blackwell,
2011),

526-‐44;
Hannah
Cotton,
Documentary
Letters
of
Recommendation
in
Latin
from
the

Roman
Empire
(Königstein:
Hain,
1981).

49

either
tied
with
a
strand
of
papyrus
or
sealed.
If
multiple
letters
were
going
to
the

same
place,
they
might
be
tied
together
into
a
packet.
8

Despite
Sidonius’s
references
and
Cassiodorus’s
fine
words
about
the
glories

of
papyrus,
none
of
their
original
letters
actually
survive.
Multiple
layers
of
editing

and
selection
shaped
what
survives
in
the
time
since
a
piece
of
papyrus
physically

traveled
from
one
place
to
another.
Authors
saved
some
letters
and
threw
others

out,
and
were
more
or
less
actively
involved
in
selecting
which
letters
made
it
into

collections.
Later
copyists
also
made
conscious
decisions
about
what
to
save
and

what
not
to.
In
sum,
each
collection
has
its
own
history.

Sidonius
Apollinaris
is
the
author
of
the
first
full
collection
in
this
study.
Born

around
430
in
Lyon,
he
belonged
to
the
last
generation
of
Gallic
aristocrats
who
still

maintained
a
connection
to
the
imperial
center.

He
married
the
daughter
of
the

short-‐reigning
Emperor
Avitus
in
452,
and
despite
his
father-‐in-‐law’s
fall
from

grace,
Sidonius
managed
to
remain
in
favor.
A
stint
as
praefectus
urbi
of
Rome
lasted

a
year
or
so,
and
around
470
he
returned
home
to
the
Auvergne
and
became
bishop

of
Clermont.
The
Gothic
incursions
into
this
region
in
the
mid-‐470s
occupied
much

of
his
time
and
energy,
and
Sidonius
was
afterward
exiled
to
Bordeaux
for
several

years
before
returning
once
again
to
Clermont,
where
he
spent
his
remaining
years.
9

8

Parsons,
“The
Papyrus
Letter,”
4-‐5.

9

The
broad
outline
of
this
description
is
drawn
from
Jill
Harries,
Sidonius
Apollinaris

and
the
Fall
of
Rome
(Oxford:
Clarendon
Press,
1994);
Courtenay
E.
Stevens,
Sidonius

Apollinaris
and
His
Age
(Oxford:
Clarendon
Press,
1933).
The
work
of
Andre
Loyen

remains
indispensable:
Andre
Loyen,
Sidoine
Apollinaire
et
l'esprit
précieux
en
Gaule

aux
derniers
jours
de
l'Empire
(Paris:
Librairie
Les
Belles
Lettres,
1943).
The
most

recent
summaries
of
Sidonius
scholarship
can
be
found
in
J.A.
van
Waarden
and
G.

Kelly
(eds.),
New
Approaches
to
Sidonius
Apollinaris
(Leuven:
Peeters,
2013).
See
in

50

Sidonius
was
a
prolific
letter-‐writer
throughout
his
life.
The
earliest
date
to

the
mid-‐450s,
when
the
future
bishop
was
a
youthful
aristocrat
making
his
way

through
the
complex
politics
of
the
collapsing
Western
Empire.
The
latest
letters
in

the
collection
date
from
the
end
of
the
470s,
though
Sidonius
apparently
survived

for
another
decade
or
so
after
his
letters
were
published.
10

Sidonius’
collection

survives
today
in
multiple
well-‐attested
manuscript
traditions.
11

It
is
notable
for
the

extent
to
which
the
author
edited
his
letters
while
he
was
still
alive
–
the
147
letters

in
his
collection
are
by
no
means
the
entirety
of
his
epistolary
production
–
and
this

is
one
of
the
major
recurring
themes
of
his
letters
as
a
whole.

Three
extant
letters
in
the
surviving
material
were
sent
to
a
friend,

Constantius
of
Lyons,
who
helped
him
select
and
edit
his
correspondence.
12

This

editing
impulse
frames
the
entire
collection,
as
the
very
first
letter
was
to

Constantius.
“[Y]ou
have
long
urged
me
to
correct,
revise,
and
bring
together
in
one

volume
the
more
finished
of
those
occasional
letters
that
which
matters,
men,
and

particular
David
Amherdt,
“Sidonius
in
Francophone
Countries,”
in
van
Waarden

and
Kelly
(eds.),
23-‐36;
Helga
Köhler,
“Sidonius
in
German-‐Speaking
Countries,”
in

van
Waarden
and
Kelly
(eds.),
37-‐46;
and
Stefania
Santella,
“Sidonius
in
Italy,”
in
van

Waarden
and
Kelly
(eds.),
47-‐61.

10

The
earliest
seems
to
be
2.13,
to
his
friend
Serranus.
The
letter
glorifies
Petronius

Maximus,
who
was
emperor
for
a
mere
two
and
a
half
months
in
455
(cf.
the
dating

of
Dalton,
who
puts
the
letter
in
the
460s.)
The
latest
is
probably
9.16,
the
last
letter

in
the
collection,
which
speaks
of
the
editing
process.
See
Ralph
Mathisen,
“Dating

the
Letters
of
Sidonius,”
in
van
Waarden
and
Kelly
(eds.),
221-‐48.

11

The
most
in-‐depth
discussion
of
the
tradition
can
be
found
in
the
preface
to

Luetjohann’s
edition
of
Sidonius,
i-‐liii.

12

Sidonius
1.1,
3.2,
7.18,
and
8.16.
1.1
and
7.18
deal
explicitly
with
editing
and

publication,
while
the
subject
also
comes
up
in
8.1
(to
Petronius),
9.1
and
9.16
(to

Firminus),
and
9.11
(to
Bishop
Lupus
of
Troyes).

51

times
have
drawn
from
me.”
13

One
missive
in
Book
7
gives
some
hints
as
to

Sidonius’
process:

I
send
the
volume
for
which
you
asked,
but
the
choice
of
letters
has
been

rather
hurried.
I
could
only
find
comparatively
few;
I
had
not
preserved
any

number,
never
having
contemplated
their
appearance
in
this
form.
Few
and

trivial
as
they
are,
I
was
soon
done
with
them.
14

Sidonius
did
not
preserve
most
of
his
correspondence,
which
means
that
the

collection
drew
from
a
more-‐or-‐less
haphazard
file
of
saved
letters
in
the
first
place.

These
selections
were
then
culled
and
edited
even
further.
15

This
was
an
active

process
involving
multiple
people
with
the
end
result
that
Sidonius’s
published

letters
were
a
polished
and
crafted
work
that
presented
the
author
in
a
carefully

selected
light.

The
famous
Sidonius’s
lesser-‐known
kinsman
Ruricius
of
Limoges
did
not

put
his
correspondence
through
such
an
intense
editing
process.
The
bishop
of

Clermont’s
younger
contemporary
–
the
two
corresponded
on
several
occasions
–

had
no
skilled
literary
hand
like
Constantius
of
Lyon
to
help
him
edit
his
works.

Ruricius
was
probably
born
between
440
and
445,
though
it
is
unclear
where
or

precisely
when.
He
became
active
as
a
letter-‐writer
in
the
early
470s
and
probably

became
bishop
of
Limoges
in
the
480s,
and
his
epistolary
activity
continued
until

roughly
506.
Although
not
a
particularly
important
political
or
ecclesiastical
actor
–

13

Sidonius
1.1.

14

Sidonius
7.18.

15

Roy
Gibson,
“Reading
the
Letters
of
Sidonius
by
the
Book,”
in
van
Waarden
and

Kelly
(eds.),
195-‐220.

52

he
seems
to
have
actively
avoided
entanglements
–
he
belonged
to
a
blue-‐blooded

family
and
was
connected
to
many
of
the
most
important
people
in
Visigothic
Gaul.
16

Ruricius’s
83
letters
survive
in
only
a
single
manuscript,
the
Codex

Sangallensis
190,
and
the
collection
contains
another
13
letters
written
to
him
along

with
several
more
from
his
social
circle.
17

The
collection
is
divided
into
two
books.

The
first,
containing
18
letters,
appears
to
have
been
carefully
edited
and
placed
in

chronological
order,
and
may
have
circulated
as
an
edited
collection
within

Ruricius’s
lifetime.
The
second
book,
however,
is
a
mess.
It
may
have
had
some

internal
structure,
but
whatever
plan
once
existed
for
editing
and
publication
was

either
never
carried
out
or
has
been
erased
by
subsequent
copyists.
The
most
likely

explanation
has
the
second
book
being
assembled
after
Ruricius’s
death
from

bundles
of
small,
related
dossiers.
18

Avitus
of
Vienne
had
become
bishop
of
that
city
by
the
mid-‐490s.
Nothing
is

known
of
his
career
before
this,
but
as
one
of
the
two
metropolitan
bishops
of
the

Burgundian
kingdom,
he
occupied
an
important
place
in
its
political
and
religious

life.
He
was
distantly
related
to
both
Sidonius
and
Ruricius,
and
corresponded

regularly
with
Sidonius’s
son
Apollinaris.
19

The
bishop
is
best
known
for
his

16

See
fundamentally
Mathisen,
Ruricius,
19-‐49,
which
supersedes
Harald

Hagendahl,
La
Correspondence
de
Ruricius
(Göteborg:
Aca
Universitatis

Gotoburgensis
Göteborgs
Högskolas
Arsskrift
58.3,
1952).

17

On
the
textual
history,
see
Mathisen,
Ruricius,
51.

18

Following
the
sound
reasoning
of
Mathisen,
Ruricius,
56-‐61.

19

On
these
relationships,
see
the
painstaking
work
of
Karl
F.
Stroheker,
Der

senatorische
Adel
im
spätantiken
Gallien
(Tübingen:
Alma
mater
Verl,
1948).
For

Avitus’s
correspondence
with
Apollinaris,
see
Avitus
24,
36,
51,
and
52.
The
best

current
biography
of
Avitus
is
to
be
found
in
Shanzer
and
Wood,
Avitus
of
Vienne,
3-‐
27;
see
also
Ian
N.
Wood,
“Letters
and
Letter-‐Collections
from
Antiquity
to
the
Early

53

correspondence
with
the
Burgundian
king
Gundobad,
most
of
it
dealing
with

theological
issues,
and
acting
as
amanuensis
for
Gundobad’s
son
Sigismund
in
his

dealings
with
the
Eastern
Empire
during
the
politically
turbulent
510s.
Avitus’s

collection
consists
of
96
letters
written
between
the
late
490s
and
520
that
survive

today
in
one
near-‐complete
manuscript
and
a
seventeenth-‐century
edition
of
a
now-‐
lost
manuscript
that
represents
an
entirely
different
line
of
transmission,
while
the

earliest
fragmentary
evidence
comes
from
a
partial
sixth-‐century
papyrus
codex

that
also
represents
a
separate
line
of
transmission.
20

The
most
likely
explanation

for
the
substantial
differences
between
the
three
manuscript
traditions
has
all
three

iterations
being
copied
at
different
times
from
a
loose
bundle
of
individual
letters.

These
individual
letters
were
originally
held
in
some
kind
of
filing
system
by

subject,
like
Ruricius’s,
but
were
subsequently
knocked
out
of
order.
21

The
last
of
the
“Gallo-‐Roman
epistolographers,”
as
they
are
commonly

grouped
in
the
scholarship,
is
Ennodius
of
Pavia,
another
distant
relative
of

Sidonius,
Ruricius,
and
Avitus.
The
youngest
of
this
quartet
was
born
in
the
early

470s
in
Arles,
but
spent
almost
his
entire
life
in
northern
Italy,
specifically
Pavia.
22

He
was
a
deacon
by
the
490s
and
accompanied
the
saintly
Epiphanius
of
Pavia
on

Middle
Ages:
The
Prose
Works
of
Avitus
of
Vienne,”
in
M.A.
Meyer
(ed.),
The
Culture

of
Christendom
(London:
The
Hambledon
Press,
1993),
29-‐43.
20

The
discussion
of
Shanzer
and
Wood,
Avitus
of
Vienne,
28-‐57
is
the
most
complete

and
up-‐to-‐date
overview
of
the
manuscript
history
of
the
texts.
See
also
the
excellent

introduction
of
Peiper,
Opera,
v-‐xxv,
though
his
belief
that
both
major
traditions
(L

and
S)
must
both
go
back
to
a
single
exemplar
has
been
thoroughly
disproven
by

Shanzer
and
Wood.

21

I
follow
here
the
arguments
of
Shanzer
and
Wood,
Avitus
of
Vienne,
43-‐5,
which

are
wholly
convincing.

22

Which
raises
the
trenchant
question
of
whether
Ennodius
is
really
a
“Gallo-‐Roman

epistolographer”
in
any
meaningful
sense;
see
Chapter
2
for
a
more
in-‐depth

discussion
of
this
topic.

54

his
mission
to
the
Burgundian
kingdom,
an
event
he
immortalized
in
a
well-‐known

vita
of
the
bishop.
By
515
Ennodius
had
become
bishop
of
Pavia
himself,
but
all
of

his
writings,
including
his
297
letters,
date
from
before
his
period
of
episcopal

activity.
23

He
was
an
intensely
literary
man
and
his
letters
are
erudite,
precise,
and

difficult,
which
partially
explains
their
general
neglect
in
the
scholarship
despite

their
sheer
volume.
His
works
appear
in
roughly
chronological
order,
and
were

placed
in
that
sequence
either
by
the
author
himself
or
by
one
of
his
protégés
after

his
death.
It
is
also
possible,
however,
that
his
works
were
not
grouped
together

until
the
eighth
century.
24

The
most
likely
organization
of
Ennodius’s
letters
has
him

assembling
them
in
a
loose
chronological
archive
over
the
course
of
his
life,
rather

than
editing
and
readying
them
for
circulation.
Only
after
his
death
were
the
works

copied
into
manuscripts.
25

Leaving
behind
the
Gallo-‐Roman
epistolographers,
we
come
to
the
Italian

Magnus
Aurelius
Cassiodorus
Senator.
Born
around
485
into
a
high-‐ranking
family

in
southern
Italy,
he
first
found
employment
as
quaestor
sacri
palatii
for
the

Ostrogothic
king
Theoderic
around
506,
while
his
father
served
as
praetorian

23

The
most
recent
overview
of
Ennodius
in
English
is
S.A.H.
Kennell,
Magnus
Felix

Ennodius:
A
Gentleman
of
the
Church
(Ann
Arbor:
University
of
Michigan
Press,

2000).
See
also
the
recent
work
of
Bianca-‐Jeanette
Schröder,
Bildung
und
Briefe
im
6.

Jahrhundert:
Studien
zum
Mailänder
Diakon
Magnus
Felix
Ennodius
(Berlin:
De

Gruyter,
2007).

24

On
the
structure
of
Ennodius’s
works,
see
fundamentally
Stéphane
Gioanni,

Édition,
traduction
et
commentaire
de
la
Correspondance
d’Ennode
de
Pavie
(livres
1

et
2),
unpublished
PhD
thesis,
Université
Lumière
–
Lyon
2,
2004,
22-‐30;
this

provides
more
detail
than
Gioanni’s
published
translations
of
books
1-‐4.
Stephanie

A.H.
Kennell,
“Ennodius
and
his
editors,”
Classica
et
Mediaevalia
5
(2000),
251-‐70;

Kennell,
Ennodius,
12-‐17.
See
also
Schröder,
Bildung,
166ff.
25

This
is
Kennell’s
conclusion
in
Ennodius
and
it
remains
the
most
plausible

explanation,
though
complicated
by
Gioanni’s
trenchant
comments
and
Schröder’s

recent
analysis.

55

prefect.
Cassiodorus
went
on
to
hold
several
more
posts
in
the
Ostrogothic

government
of
Italy
and
the
surrounding
territories,
becoming
consul
in
514,

magister
officiorum
in
the
520s,
and
finally
praetorian
prefect
in
his
own
right
after

Theoderic’s
death.
Fleeing
the
seismic
upheavals
of
Justinian’s
invasion
of
Italy,

Cassiodorus
then
went
to
Constantinople,
where
he
stayed
for
two
decades.
While
in

Constantinople,
he
turned
his
attention
toward
religious
matters,
and
there
it

remained
for
the
rest
of
his
life.
He
returned
to
Italy
in
the
late
550s
and
founded
a

monastery
at
Vivarium,
where
he
remained
in
retirement
until
his
death
around
the

age
of
100.
Despite
his
activities
as
a
government
official
under
the
Ostrogoths,

Cassiodorus
is
probably
better
known
for
his
activities
as
a
religious
writer,

particularly
his
Institutiones
divinarum
et
saecularium
litterarum,
which
formed
an

important
part
of
the
future
monastic
educational
curriculum
throughout
Europe.
26

The
focus
here,
however,
is
on
the
396
letters
in
Cassiodorus’s
Variae,
a

selection
of
the
letters
he
wrote
during
his
time
in
official
posts
in
the
Ostrogothic

administration.
27

More
than
100
manuscripts
survive,
all
of
which
stem
from
a

single
lost
exemplar,
presumably
Cassiodorus’s
autograph
copy.
28

The
Variae
do
not,

26

See
fundamentally
James
J.
O’Donnell,
Cassiodorus
(Berkeley
and
Los
Angeles:

University
of
California
Press,
1979);
M.
Shane
Bjornlie,
Politics
and
Tradition

Between
Rome,
Ravenna
and
Constantinople:
A
Study
of
Cassiodorus
and
the
Variae,

527-‐554
(Cambridge:
Cambridge
University
Press,
2013),
14-‐7.

27

There
are
actually
468
letters
in
the
Variae,
divided
into
twelve
books,
but
books

6
and
7
consist
of
72
formulae
that
are
not
relevant
to
the
current
project.

28

See
S.J.B.
Barnish
(tr.),
Cassiodorus:
Selected
Variae,
Liverpool:
Liverpool

University
Press,
1992,
xxxiii-‐xxxiv
for
a
brief
but
thorough
discussion.
In
more

depth,
the
introduction
to
Mommsen’s
edition
(Cassiodori
Senatoris
Variae),
lxviii-‐
clxxxii,
remains
absolutely
essential.
It
has
been
updated
in
Åke
J.
Fridh’s
more

recent
edition
(Magni
Aurelii
Cassiodori
Variarum
libri
XII)
with
an
additional

manuscript
and
some
emendations,
but
it
is
beset
by
typographical
errors
and

Mommsen’s
introduction
remains
the
gold
standard.

56

however,
represent
a
straightforward
archive
of
documents;
they
were
far
from
the

entirety
of
official
Ostrogothic
correspondence,
and
were
not
even
the
entirety
of

Cassiodorus’s
output
in
his
capacity
as
an
official.
Cassiodorus
very
deliberately

selected
and
edited
his
texts
in
Constantinople
many
years
after
he
wrote
them,

while
the
Gothic
Wars
were
raging
through
Italy,
and
did
so
with
specific
purposes

in
mind.
Essentially,
Cassiodorus
used
the
Variae
to
paint
a
detailed,
complex

portrait
of
a
harmonious
relationship
between
Goths
and
Romans
under
the
rule
of

the
Ostrogoths,
particularly
Theoderic.
29

The
scholarship
diverges
on
the
extent
of
Cassiodorus’s
editing.
In
its
most

extreme
version,
the
Variae
are
an
entirely
invented
corpus
of
texts,
while
in
the

most
generous
reading,
they
are
a
fairly
straightforward
rendering
of
administrative

documents
assembled
in
Cassiodorus’s
later
years
to
recall
the
fine
days
of

Ostrogothic
rule.
30

There
is
no
good
reason
to
see
the
Variae
as
entirely
or
even

partially
invented,
but
conversely
the
evidence
for
Cassiodorus’s
editorial
hand
is

strong.
31

The
former
official
certainly
picked
the
letters
for
inclusion
with
care,

highlighting
those
that
served
his
project
of
retrospective
glorification,
and
excised

29

This
is
a
point
of
general
agreement
in
the
historiography.
See
especially
Patrick

Amory,
People
and
Identity
in
Ostrogothic
Italy
(Cambridge:
Cambridge
University

Press,
1997);
Bjornlie,
Politics
and
Tradition;
Jonathan
J.
Arnold,
Theoderic
and
the

Roman
Imperial
Restoration
(Cambridge:
Cambridge
University
Press,
2014).

30

For
the
former
view,
see
P.S.
Barnwell,
Emperors,
Prefects,
and
Kings:
The
Roman

West,
395-‐565
(London:
Duckworth,
1992);
for
the
latter,
Andrew
Gillett,
“The

Purposes
of
Cassiodorus’
Variae,”
in
Alexander
Callander
Murray
(ed.),
After
Rome’s

Fall:
Narrators
and
Sources
of
Early
Medieval
History
(Toronto:
University
of
Toronto

Press,
1998),
37-‐50.

31

Bjornlie,
Politics
and
Tradition,
represents
the
moderate
end
of
the
extreme
wing

and
states
(5)
that
some
letters
were
invented.
His
case
rests
on
the
letters
to

Boethius
(Variae
1.10,
1.45,
and
2.40),
and
is
not
entirely
convincing:
Boethius
and

Cassiodorus
belonged
to
the
same
social
milieu
and
Boethius
was
involved
in
the

business
of
government.
The
letters
are
perfectly
plausible
in
their
claimed
context.

57

names
while
adding
thematic
digressions
and
literary
asides.
32

The
letters

themselves
were
genuine,
but
the
way
that
he
arranged
and
chose
them
marked
the

whole
work
as
a
complex
project
that
served
several
different
purposes.
He
wanted

to
be
remembered,
and
he
wanted
his
illustrious
contemporaries
and
what
they
had

accomplished
to
be
remembered
as
well.
33

The
Epistulae
Austrasicae
represent
another
important
body
of
material.

Most
of
the
collection
of
48
letters
revolves
around
the
court
of
the
Austrasian
kings

in
Metz
in
the
sixth
century,
particularly
their
diplomatic
correspondence
with
the

emperors
in
Constantinople,
though
it
also
includes
four
letters
of
Bishop
Remigius

of
Reims
and
several
related
to
Bishop
Nicetius
of
Trier.
34

They
survive
in
a
single

ninth-‐century
manuscript
at
Lorsch
copied
from
Merovingian-‐period
originals,

though
the
purpose
of
this
collection
is
unclear.
The
conventional
explanation
has
it

being
assembled
by
a
courtier
in
Metz
around
the
end
of
the
sixth
century,
but
the

alternative
and
more
compelling
take
states
that
someone
connected
to
Lorsch

assembled
it
at
Trier
from
the
individual
original
letters
in
the
ninth
century.
35

32

This
is
the
view
of
Arnold,
Theoderic,
46-‐8,
following
Stefan
Krautschick,
Cassiodor

und
die
Politik
seiner
Zeit
(Bonn:
Dr.
Rudolf
Habelt
GMBH,
1983),
and
it
best
explains

the
shape
of
the
surviving
material.

33

Cassiodorus’s
own
praefatio
to
the
Variae
is
revealing
in
this
regard,
though
much

neglected
today.

34

The
collection
can
be
found
in
Epistolae
Merowingici
et
Karolini
Aevi
Tomus
I,
ed.

W.
Gundlach,
MGH
Epistolae
3
(Berlin:
Weidmanns,
1892).

35

Graham
Barrett
and
George
Woudhuysen,
“Assembling
the
Austrasian
Letters
at

Trier
and
Lorsch,”
Early
Medieval
Europe
24.1
(2016),
3-‐57.
This
is
the
most
recent

and
most
compelling
take
on
the
material,
though
it
still
does
not
fully
explain
the

presence
of
these
letters
at
Trier
rather
than
Metz.
It
supersedes
Gundlach’s

introduction
in
Epistolae
Merowingici
and
Elena
Malaspina,
Il
Liber
Epistolarum

della
cancellaria
austrasica
(sec.
V-‐VI)
(Rome:
Herder,
2001).

58

Numerous
other
smaller
collections
round
out
the
non-‐papal

correspondence.
These
include
the
44
letters
of
Bishop
Braulio
of
Zaragoza,
who

lived
in
the
first
half
of
the
seventh
century
and
corresponded
with
the
Visigothic

kings
and
Isidore
of
Seville;
the
51
letters
of
Venantius
Fortunatus,
which
often

accompanied
his
poetry;
the
36
letters
of
Desiderius
of
Cahors;
and
57

miscellaneous
texts,
which
include
the
works
of
the
Irish
missionary
Columbanus,

the
letters
of
Bishop
Caesarius
of
Arles,
the
nine
surviving
letters
of
the
Ostrogothic

administration
that
were
not
written
by
Cassiodorus,
and
random
collections
of

letters
from
the
Visigothic
and
Lombard
courts.
36

Collection
Number
of
Letters

Braulio
of
Zaragoza
44

Desiderius
of
Cahors
36

Venantius
Fortunatus
51

Visigothic
Letters
21

Lombard
Letters
7

Miscellaneous
Letters
17

36

The
most
up-‐to-‐date
edition
of
Braulio
is
L.
Riesco
Terrero’s
Epistolario
de
San

Braulio:
Introducción,
edición
crítica
y
traducción
(Sevilla,
Universidad
de
Sevilla,

1975),
and
an
English
translation
of
Braulio’s
letters
can
be
found
in
Claude
W.

Barlow
(tr.),
Iberian
Fathers,
Volume
2
(Washington:
Catholic
University
of
America

Press,
1969);
the
Visigothic,
Lombard,
miscellaneous,
and
Desiderius
letters
can
be

found
in
Epistolae
Merowingici,
with
a
translation
of
the
Visigothic
letters
in
John

R.C.
Martyn
(tr.),
King
Sisebut
and
the
Culture
of
Visigothic
Spain,
with
Translations
of

the
Lives
of
Saint
Desiderius
of
Vienne
and
Saint
Masona
of
Merida
(Lewiston:
The

Edwin
Mellen
Press,
2008).
The
works
of
Venantius
Fortunatus
have
been
edited
as

part
of
the
MGH
in
two
collections:
Venanti
Honori
Clementiani
Fortunati
presbyteri

Italici
Opera
pedestrian,
ed.
B.
Krusch,
MGH
AA
4.2
(Berlin:
Weidmanns,
1885);

Venanti
Honori
Clementiani
Fortunati
presbyteri
Italici
Opera
poetica,
ed.
F.
Leo,
MGH

AA
4.1
(Berlin:
Weidmanns,
1881).
The
letters
of
Caesarius
have
most
recently
been

translated
in
William
Klingshirn
(tr.),
Caesarius
of
Arles:
Life,
Testament,
Letters

(Liverpool:
Liverpool
University
Press,
1994).
The
other
Ostrogothic
letters
are

known
as
the
Epistulae
Theodericanae
variae
and
can
be
found
in
Mommsen’s

edition
of
Cassiodoru’s
Variae,
with
accompanying
notes
and
commentary.
The

Miscellaneous
Letters
–
that
is
literally
the
title
–
are
also
to
be
found
in
Epistolae

Merowingici.

59

Caesarius
of
Arles
19

Columbanus
7

Assorted
Variae
of
Theoderic
9

Total
211

Table
3:
The
smaller
collections.

Papal
letters
form
the
last
and
most
substantial
portion
of
the
corpus
as
a

whole.
Prior
to
Gregory
the
Great,
the
first
pope
for
whom
something
like
a
full

accounting
of
his
letters
remains,
662
letters
by,
to,
and
regarding
the
popes
of
the

second
half
of
the
fifth
and
sixth
centuries
survive.
For
Gregory
the
Great,
we
have

854
surviving
letters.
They
survived
in
two
different
ways:
in
thematic
collections
or

as
individual
letters,
and
second
as
registers,
of
which
Gregory’s
is
the
only
one
that

seems
to
be
mostly
complete.

Pope
Number
of
Letters

Leo
the
Great
(440-‐461)
143
by
Leo,
30
to
him

Hilarus
(461-‐468)
12

Simplicius
(468-‐483)
20

Felix
III
(483-‐492)
18

Gelasius
I
(492-‐496)
102

Anastasius
II
(496-‐498)
3

Symmachus
(498-‐514)
14

Hormisdas
(514-‐523)
93
by
Hormisdas,
31
to
him,
26
related

letters

Felix
IV
(526-‐530)
2

Boniface
II
(530-‐532)
2

John
II
(532-‐535)
5

Agapetus
I
(535-‐536)
8

Silverius
(536-‐537)
2

Vigilius
(537-‐555)
31

Pelagius
I
(555-‐561)
96

John
III
(561-‐574)
2

Benedict
I
(574-‐578)
1

Pelagius
II
(578-‐590)
21

Gregory
the
Great
(590-‐604)
854

Total
1516

Table
4:
Papal
letters
from
Leo
the
Great
to
Gregory
the
Great

60

With
a
few
exceptions,
most
papal
letters
survives
not
as
coherent
registers

of
each
pontiff’s
correspondence
but
as
individual
letters
circulating
as
decretals,
or

in
thematic
or
geographically
focused
collections
of
texts
later
thought
to
be

relevant.
37

Only
three
detailed
registers
of
papal
letters,
those
of
Gregory
the
Great,

Pelagius
I,
and
Hormisdas,
and
in
his
case
only
from
515
to
521,
are
extant
today.
38

Comparing
what
remains
of
the
popes’
correspondence
prior
to
Gregory
the
Great

with
his
extensive
collection
demonstrates
the
sheer
extent
of
what
might
have

been.
The
surviving
letters
of
Pelagius
I,
for
example,
strongly
suggest
that
the
shift

toward
micro-‐management
that
is
so
prominent
in
Gregory’s
letters
was
a
product

of
an
earlier
age;
all
that
we
lack
is
the
explicit
evidence
of
it.
39

Whatever
process
of

transformation
the
papal
archives
had
undergone
over
the
course
of
the
sixth

37

Detlev
Jasper
and
Horst
Fuhrmann,
Papal
Letters
in
the
Early
Middle
Ages

(Washington:
Catholic
University
of
America
Press,
2001),
41-‐87
provides
a
detailed

overview
of
the
manuscript
sources
of
early
medieval
papal
correspondence.
See

also
D.
Moreau,
“Non
impar
conciliorum
extat
auctoritas.
L’origine
de
l’introduction

des
lettres
pontificales
dans
le
droit
canonique,”
in
J.
Desmulliez,
C.
Hoët-‐van

Cauwenberghe,
and
J.-‐C.
Jolivet
(eds.),
L’étude
des
correspondances
dans
le
monde

Romain
de
l’Antiquité
classique
à
l’Antiquité
tardive:
Permanences
et
mutations,
Actes

du
XXXe
Colloque
international
de
Lille,
20-‐22
novembre
2008,
Universite
de
Lille,

2010.
The
standard
edition
of
papal
letters
from
this
period
remains
Andreas
Thiel,

Epistulae
Romanorum
pontificum
genuinae
et
quae
ad
eos
scriptae
sunt
a
s.
Hilaro

usque
ad
Pelagium
II,
Braunsberg,
1867.
Pierre
Jaffe,
Regesta
pontificum
romanorum,

Leipzig:
Veit,
1888,
Vol.
1
and
2

38

More
of
Gelasius’
letters
survive,
but
as
scattered,
individual
documents
in

collections
of
decretals
rather
than
a
concentrated
collection.
See
Neil
and
Allen,

Gelasius,
8-‐11.
The
historiography
on
Gregory’s
letters
is
large,
but
little
deals
with

the
topics
of
interest
in
this
project.
See
e.g.
Mary
Borromeo
Dunn,
The
Style
of
the

Letters
of
Gregory
the
Great,
PhD
thesis,
Catholic
University
of
America,
1931;

Richard
Matthew
Pollard,
“A
Cooperative
Correspondence:
The
Letters
of
Gregory

the
Great,”
in
Bronwen
Neil
and
Matthew
J.
Dal
Santo
(eds.),
A
Companion
to
Gregory

the
Great
(Leiden:
Brill,
2013),
291-‐312;
Markus,
Gregory
the
Great,
206
ff;
G.R.

Evans,
The
Thought
of
Gregory
the
Great
(Cambridge:
Cambridge
University
Press,

1986).

39

On
which
see
Neil,
“De
profundis,”
who
makes
that
argument
convincingly.

61

century
was
complete
by
the
time
of
Gregory’s
pontificate.
40

Even
his

correspondence,
however,
is
not
complete:
A
full
register
of
his
letters
existed

during
the
ninth
century,
but
what
has
survived
to
the
present
day
is
a
collection
of

three
independent
selections
from
the
once-‐extant
whole.
41

Three
major
collections
of
papal
correspondence
exist
in
this
period,
along

with
individually
circulating
letters
and
large
numbers
that
survived
as
pieces
of

later
canonical
collections.
The
first
major
collection,
the
Collectio
ecclesiae

Thessalonicensis,
was
intended
solely
to
establish
the
popes’
ecclesiastical
and

jurisdictional
control
over
eastern
Illyricum,
and
includes
letters
to
and
from
Popes

Damasus,
Hilary,
and
Leo,
along
with
letters
between
the
Emperors
Honorius
and

Theodosius
II.
42

The
second,
the
Collectio
Avellana,
is
much
better
known
and
much

more
extensive.
It
consists
of
243
texts
collected
by
a
curious
compiler
in
the
sixth

century,
most
of
which
related
to
the
major
ecclesiastical
and
theological

controversies
of
the
time
such
as
the
election
of
the
anti-‐pope
Laurentius.
One

hundred
thirty-‐eight
letters
from
the
papal
register,
including
Pope
Hormisdas’

40

Bronwen
Neil
and
Pauline
Allen
(eds.
and
trs.),
The
Letters
of
Gelasius
I
(492-‐496):

Pastor
and
Micro-‐Manager
of
the
Church
of
Rome
(Turnhout:
Brepols,
2014),
13
with

n.
44.
Cf.
Llewellyn,
Rome
in
the
Dark
Ages,
114-‐22.

41

Martyn
places
his
estimate
at
a
dozen
lost
letters
(The
Letters
of
Gregory
the
Great,

p.
13),
but
that
total
includes
only
specific
references
to
once-‐existing

correspondence.
See
also
Reginald
L.
Poole,
Lectures
on
the
History
of
the
Papal

Chancery
down
to
the
time
of
Innocent
III
(Cambridge:
Cambridge
University
Press,

1915),
427,
who
states
that
a
substantial
portion
of
the
correspondence
has
been

lost.
Markus,
Gregory
the
Great,
206-‐7
places
the
number
much
higher
–
he

estimates
that
two-‐thirds
of
Gregory’s
correspondence
has
been
lost
–
but
bases
his

math
on
the
questionable
idea
that
every
year
of
Gregory’s
episcopate
saw
as
much

epistolary
activity
as
599.
It
is
not
a
convincing
argument.

42

Jasper
and
Fuhrmann,
Papal
Letters,
81-‐3.

62

correspondence
from
515-‐21,
complete
the
collection.
43

The
third
collection,
the

Liber
auctoritatum
Arelatensis
ecclesiae,
was
originally
compiled
in
the
mid-‐sixth

century.
As
its
title
suggests,
its
contents
relate
to
papal
dealings
with
the
church
of

Arles,
and
was
likely
produced
just
as
the
see
of
Arles
was
losing
its
preeminence
in

favor
of
Lyon.
The
collection,
then,
was
either
an
attempt
to
recall
the
past

importance
of
Arles
or
a
claim
on
an
unrealized
future.
It
spans
popes
from
Zosimus

in
417
to
Pelagius
I
in
557/8.
44

These
three
collections
do
not
consist
of
randomly
chosen
selections
of

letters.
The
compilers
assembled
them
for
specific
purposes
at
specific
times,
and

included
particular
materials
that
they
thought
would
be
useful
for
those
purposes,

whether
that
was
reinforcing
a
claim
to
authority
over
the
see
of
Thessalonica
or

attempting
to
burnish
the
faded
glory
of
the
see
of
Arles.
The
same
holds
true
for
the

letters
–
more
of
them,
proportionally
–
that
survive
in
collections
of
decretals.
The

letters
of
Leo
the
Great,
for
example,
survive
in
such
large
numbers
primarily

because
they
were
essential
pieces
of
evidence
in
the
Three
Chapters
controversy
a

century
after
the
pope’s
death.
The
bishops
of
Northern
Italy
collected
a
vast
array

of
materials
to
present
Leo
and
Chalcedonian
orthodoxy
in
a
positive
light.
That
also

explains
why
so
many
of
Leo’s
surviving
letters
were
addressed
to
recipients
in
the

east.
45

The
late
fifth
and
early
sixth
centuries
saw
a
transformation
in
the
scope
of

43

Ibid.,
83-‐5;
Otto
Günther,
Avellana-‐Studien
(Vienna:
Staatsbibliothek
Wien
134,

Abhandlung
5,
1896).

44

Jasper
and
Fuhrmann,
85-‐7,
with
33
on
Arles
and
Lyon.

45

Jasper
and
Fuhrmann,
43;
C.H.
Turner,
“The
Collection
of
the
Dogmatic
Letters
of

St
Leo,”
in
Antonio
Maria
Ceriani
and
Achille
Ratti
(eds.),
Miscellanea
Ceriani:

Raccolta
di
scritti
originali
per
onorare
la
memoria
di
Mr.
A.M.
Ceriani
(Hoepli:
Milan

1910),
692
ff.

63

papal
record
keeping,
with
a
more
detailed
and
intensive
system
of
archiving
in
the

scrinium,
the
papal
archive.
Despite
this
advancement,
the
archives
from
this
period

survive
only
in
fragmentary
form
until
the
time
of
Gregory
the
Great.
Almost
nothing

survives
from
John
I,
Silverius,
John
III,
or
Benedict
II,
and
little
from
their

contemporaries;
the
most
likely
explanation
for
this
gap
is
the
upheaval
associated

with
the
Lombard
invasions.
46

In
sum,
the
letters
of
Gregory,
Pelagius
I,
and
Hormisdas
survive
in
large

numbers
through
a
nascent
archival
system,
while
the
copious
correspondence
of

Leo
the
Great
and
Gelasius
I
remain
through
the
offices
of
subject-‐specific

collections.
The
fragmentary
correspondence
of
the
other
popes
between
450
and

600
survives
only
in
scattered
decretals
in
individual
collections
assembled
for

other
purposes.

As
the
discussion
of
each
author
and
collection
makes
clear,
the
letters
on

which
this
project
builds
do
not
survive
today
as
sheaves
of
folded
papyrus,
tree

bark,
or
parchment
with
the
recipient’s
name
written
on
the
outside,
neatly
filed
in

well-‐tended
archives.
Even
the
largely
complete
collection
of
Gregory
the
Great,
an

assemblage
that
was
actually
filed
through
the
developing
papal
archival
system,

survives
today
only
in
manuscript
form.
The
originals
have
long
since
been
lost,
and

this
is
also
true
of
the
registers
of
Pelagius
I
and
Hormisdas.

It
is
clear,
however,
that
the
authors
kept
copies
of
their
correspondence.

They
did
not
necessarily
keep
all
of
it,
as
the
quotation
from
Sidonius
cited
above

46

Neil
and
Allen,
Gelasius,
11-‐14;
Kristina
Sessa,
The
Formation
of
Papal
Authority
in

Late
Antique
Italy:
Roman
Bishops
and
the
Domestic
Sphere
(Cambridge:
Cambridge

University
Press,
2012),
276-‐7;
Noble,
“Theoderic
and
the
Papacy,”
397.

64

makes
clear
–
“I
could
only
find
comparatively
few;
I
had
not
preserved
any
number,

never
having
contemplated
their
appearance
in
this
form”
–
but
personal
archives

are
the
only
reasonable
explanation
for
practically
all
of
the
surviving
non-‐papal

collections.
Sidonius,
Ruricius,
Avitus,
and
Ennodius
all
kept
copies
of
their
letters.

Cassiodorus
even
had
copies
of
the
correspondence
he
had
composed
during
his

time
as
quaestor,
magister
officiorum,
and
praetorian
prefect.
Copies
of
the
Epistolae

Austrasicae
survived
in
some
form
at
Trier,
though
they
probably
were
not

composed
there.
The
other,
smaller
collections
mostly
survived
in
similar
fashion,
as

individual
archives.

How
these
letters
went
from
individual
letters
kept
in
personal
archives
to

manuscript
copies
varies
widely
from
collection
to
collection.
In
the
case
of
Sidonius,

perhaps
the
first
book
of
Ruricius
of
Limoges,
and
Cassiodorus’s
Variae,
the

collections
that
exist
today
are
the
product
of
deliberate
editing
and
construction.

Recent
scholarship
emphasizes
the
constructed
nature
of
collections
of
this
type,

and
the
deliberate
intentionality
that
went
into
authors’
structuring
of
their
work

both
in
terms
of
division
into
books
and
the
selection
of
correspondence.
According

to
this
line
of
reasoning,
modern
editors
often
do
violence
to
the
authors’
intentions

in
constructing
their
collections
by
attempting
to
place
letters
in
chronological

order.
47

In
the
case
of
these
three
authors,
who
invested
time
and
effort
into

constructing
collections
with
literary
goals
in
mind,
there
is
no
disputing
the

heaviness
of
their
editorial
hand,
particularly
for
Sidonius
and
Cassiodorus.
That

47

On
the
theoretical
nature
of
this
dispute,
see
fundamentally
Gibson,
“On
the

Nature
of
Ancient
Letter
Collections,”
56-‐7;
in
practice,
see
Gibson,
“Reading
the

Letters
of
Sidonius
by
the
Book.”

65

same
intentionality
shapes
the
papal
letters
that
survive
outside
the
three
registers

of
Gregory,
Pelagius,
and
Hormisdas.
The
collections
in
which
their
letters
appear

may
be
idiosyncratic,
but
their
purposes
were
clear
and
essential
to
understanding

the
choice
of
letters.

That
is
not
the
case
for
the
remaining
correspondence.
The
second
and
much

longer
book
of
Ruricius’s
letters,
the
correspondence
of
Avitus
of
Vienne,
the
works

of
Ennodius
of
Pavia,
and
the
Epistolae
Austrasicae
were
all
copied
directly
from

letters
into
the
few
remaining
manuscripts.
In
Avitus’s
case,
they
were
copied

separately
at
different
times
and
in
different
orders.
Essentially,
after
their
deaths

people
looked
through
their
personal
archives
and
happened
to
copy
items
of

interest
into
manuscripts
that
either
survive
today
or
were
copied
again
in
the

interim.
Layers
of
decisions
made
by
people
after
the
authors
shape
the
material
we

have
today,
though
in
this
case
there
is
one
fewer
steps
leading
from
the
authors’

personal
archives
to
the
collections
as
they
now
exist.

This
issue
of
constructed
collections
is
important
to
bear
in
mind,
as
is
the

randomness
and
selectivity
of
the
survival
of
the
other
letters.
It
does
not,
however,

dramatically
affect
the
question
of
the
geographic
distribution
of
these
letters.
There

is
simply
no
way
of
knowing
what
the
full
scope
of
these
authors’
epistolary
output

looked
like.
Two
case
studies,
however,
shed
light
on
specific
manifestations
of
the

editorial
process
and
the
question
of
source
survival.
First,
short-‐distance

correspondence,
defined
as
letters
that
would
need
between
one
and
three
days
to

reach
their
destinations,
is
drastically
underrepresented
in
the
surviving
material.

Second,
by
examining
diplomatic
correspondence
and
embassies
in
Gregory
of

66

Tours’
Histories
it
becomes
clear
how
lacking
the
Epistolae
Austrasicae
are
as
a

record
of
this
activity;
most
embassies’
letters
do
not
survive.

Short-‐distance
correspondence
in
the
collections
of
the
Gallic

epistolographers
tends
to
deal
with
quotidian
issues.
Ruricius
of
Limoges,
for

example,
wrote
three
letters
to
his
relative
Celsus,
who
lived
in
the
vicinity
of
his

estate
in
Gurdo,
160
kilometers
to
the
south
of
Limoges.
The
first
confirmed
that

Ruricius
had
dispatched
a
specialist
glassblower,
the
second
was
an
apology
for

some
perceived
offense,
and
the
third
accompanied
a
horse
that
Celsus
had

requested.
48

A
pair
of
letters
to
his
friend
Taurentius,
who
lived
in
the
vicinity
of

Limoges,
discussed
the
exchange
of
books
and
a
signature
on
a
legal
document
for

one
of
Taurentius’
dependents.
49

Ruricius
sent
a
letter
and
a
pig
to
his
son,

Constantius,
who
likewise
lived
near
Limoges,
and
thanked
him
for
an
earlier
gift
of

presumably
perishable
food.
50

A
correspondent
named
Rusticus,
who
lived
near

Uzerche,
roughly
60
kilometers
south
of
Limoges,
sent
Ruricius
fish
from
the
Vézère

River.
51

Another
letter,
to
a
Goth
by
the
name
of
Vittamerus
who
lived
near
Ruricius’

country
estate
at
Degagnac,
accompanied
the
gift
of
a
hundred
pears.
52

Like
Ruricius,
Sidonius
wrote
only
a
few
surviving
letters
to
recipients
in
his

vicinity,
and
nearly
all
dealt
with
quotidian
issues.
He
described
in
great
detail
his

48

Ruricius
1.12-‐4.
Mathisen,
Ruricius,
123
raises
the
possibility
that
Celsus
was
a

sibling
of
Ruricius,
but
even
if
he
was
not
it
seems
certain
that
the
two
men
were

related.

49

2.17
and
2.47.
See
the
discussion
of
Mathisen,
Ruricius,
218
n.
4
and
Heinrich

Dirksen,
Manuale
latinitatis
fontium
juris
civilis
romanorum:
Thesauri
latinitatis

epitome
(Berlin:
Duncker,
1837),
198.

50

Ruricius
2.43.

51

Ruricius
2.54.
This
Rusticus
also
received
2.20.

52

Ruricius
2.61
and
2.63,
the
latter
of
which
provides
the
location
of
Vittamer’s

estate.

67

estate
at
Avitacum,
modern
Aydat,
to
a
friend
who
lived
in
nearby
Clermont.
The

future
bishop
was
particularly
proud
of
his
baths,
which
included
both
cold
and
hot

pools
and
could
compete
with
any
public
complex.
Underneath
the
lengthy

description
and
aristocratic
snobbery
was
a
simple
invitation
for
a
close
neighbor

and
friend
to
come
and
stay.
53

His
friend
Donidius,
who
lived
just
outside
Nîmes,

received
a
lengthy
letter
from
Sidonius
describing
the
nearby
estates
of
his
relatives.

Sidonius
was
already
in
Nîmes,
and
it
would
have
taken
less
time
for
Sidonius
to

travel
the
intervening
distance
than
to
write
such
a
long
piece
of
correspondence.

The
purpose
of
the
letter,
aside
from
showing
off
Sidonius’
substantial
literary

chops,
was
to
tell
Donidius
that
he
would
be
there
shortly.
54

He
castigated
a
friend,

Pastor,
who
had
skillfully
avoided
a
Municipal
Council
meeting
in
Clermont
in
order

to
avoid
being
named
an
envoy
on
behalf
of
the
city.
55

Another
friend,
Salonius,

received
a
brief
entreaty
to
spend
more
time
in
Vienne
during
Sidonius’
frequent

visits.
56

On
another
occasion,
one
of
Sidonius’
tenants
eloped
with
a
colonus
of
his

friend
and
neighbor
Pudens.
57

Others
of
Sidonius’
short-‐distance
letters
dealt
with
mutual
acquaintances.

He
dispatched
a
letter
to
his
friend
Pannychius,
informing
the
man
that
the
roundly

disliked
Seronatus
was
returning
to
the
vicinity
of
Clermont
from
Toulouse.
58

The

admirable
life
and
habits
of
a
man
named
Vectius,
whom
both
Sidonius
and
his

53

Sidonius
2.2,
to
Domitius.

54

Sidonius
2.9.

55

Sidonius
5.20.

56

Sidonius
7.15.

57

Sidonius
5.19.

58

Sidonius
5.13.

68

correspondent
Industrius
knew
personally,
were
the
topic
of
another.
59

Others
–

requests
to
write
literature
or
responses
to
requests
–
were
not
particularly

characteristic
of
short-‐distance
letters
as
a
whole,
but
came
from
otherwise
close

associates
as
part
of
a
longer
and
more
complex
relationship.
60

On
the
whole,

however,
Sidonius’
few
letters
to
nearby
acquaintances
dealt
with
the
day-‐to-‐day.

Like
his
relatives
Sidonius
and
Ruricius,
Avitus
of
Vienne
wrote
a
number
of

letters
to
recipients
located
within
a
day
or
two’s
journey
of
his
home
city.
The

proximity
of
Vienne
to
Lyon,
one
of
the
major
cities
of
the
Burgundian
kingdom,
and

to
Valence,
where
he
had
numerous
family
members
and
friends,
was
a
major
part

of
that.
61

The
bishop
of
Lyon
was
one
of
the
two
metropolitans
in
the
kingdom
–

Avitus
was
the
other
–
and
the
two
men
corresponded
on
numerous
occasions
about

matters
of
church
business,
such
as
dealing
with
Arian
priests
and
an
itinerant

African
Donatist
who
was
causing
trouble.
62

Avitus
was
in
the
city
regularly,
and

Bishop
Viventiolus
was
a
friend
in
addition
to
their
deep
professional
relationship.
63

The
bishop
of
Vienne’s
brother,
Apollinaris,
was
a
resident
of
Valence
and
a
frequent

correspondent.
He
too
was
a
bishop.
The
two
commemorated
their
sister’s
death,

discussed
mutual
acquaintances,
sent
each
other
poetry,
and
exchanged
mostly

59

Sidonius
4.9.

60

Such
as
Lampridius,
a
friend
during
his
exile
in
Bordeaux,
in
8.9
See
also
9.14
and

7.14.

61

Shanzer
and
Wood,
Avitus,
4-‐7
discusses
his
family.

62

Avitus
26,
28,
and
58.

63

Avitus
36
and
57
make
reference
to
his
having
been
in
Lyon,
and
67
tells

Viventiolus
that
he
cannot
come
to
visit.
Viventiolus
also
came
to
Vienne
regularly,

as
in
Avitus
73.

69

incomprehensible
jokes.
As
Ruricius
often
did
with
his
friends,
Avitus
and

Apollinaris
also
sent
each
other
food.
64

Avitus’
letters
to
nearby
correspondents
were
either
official
missives
in
his

capacity
as
bishop,
as
in
how
to
deal
with
the
Arians
and
the
Donatist,
or
literary

witticisms
and
friendly
exchanges
to
either
his
brother
or
Bishop
Viventiolus.
Avitus

also
corresponded
regularly
with
King
Gundobad,
who
spent
a
substantial
amount

of
time
in
Vienne,
but
it
is
impossible
to
tell
from
letter
to
letter
whether
the
king

was
in
fact
local
or
in
Geneva,
his
other
main
residence.
65

Even
if
the
two
men
were

located
near
one
another,
the
topics
of
these
exchanges
demanded
the
written
form:

Avitus
filled
in
Gundobad
on
the
Eutychian
Heresy,
the
Acacian
Schism,
and

generally
presented
complex
theology
in
written
form.
66

Avitus
was
the
only
one
of
the
Gallic
epistolographers
to
write
a
great

proportion
of
his
letters
to
nearby
correspondents,
and
to
write
those
short-‐
distance
letters
about
topics
other
than
the
quotidian.
In
his
case,
this
likely
has
to

do
with
the
haphazard
nature
of
his
letters’
survival:
They
were
not
intentionally

edited
and
circulated,
unlike
the
works
of
Sidonius
and,
partially,
Ruricius.
The

simple
explanation
for
this
relative
dearth
of
short-‐distance
letters
in
the
broader

sense
is
that
it
made
more
sense
to
send
a
verbal
message
or
a
disposable
note
than

a
full
piece
of
polished
correspondence
that
would
survive
the
editorial
process.
A

64

Avitus
13-‐4,
61,
71-‐2,
87-‐8.

65

E.g.
Avitus
2-‐6
and
21-‐2.
It
seems
safe
to
assume
that
the
letters
Avitus
wrote
as

Sigismund’s
amanuensis
required
collaboration
between
the
two
of
them,
though

the
future
king
seems
to
have
spent
most
of
his
time
away
from
Lyon
and
Vienne.

66

Avitus
2-‐3,
for
example.

70

disproportionate
amount
of
Sidonius’
and
Ruricius’
short-‐distance
letters
are
little

more
than
brief
notes
consisting
of
a
few
lines.

That
task
–
a
brief
message
to
a
nearby
recipient,
generally
regarding

quotidian
subject
matter
–
presents
a
pair
of
complications
in
terms
of
source

survival.
First,
there
was
no
particular
reason
for
that
message
to
be
conveyed
in

written
form
as
opposed
to
an
oral
message.
On
occasion,
letters
explicitly
mention

additional
verbal
messages
as
an
accompaniment
to
the
written
document;
this
was

common
with
diplomatic
letters,
in
which
the
envoys
often
had
explicit
instructions

to
carry
the
discussion
beyond
the
bounds
of
the
text,
but
it
also
appears
in
other

correspondence.
67

Avitus
of
Vienne,
for
example,
relayed
an
oral
message
when
a

bout
of
bad
eyesight
rendered
him
unable
to
write.
It
was
also
better
to
convey

sensitive
information
orally
rather
than
in
written
form,
as
Avitus
discussed
with
his

kinsman
Apollinaris,
who
lived
in
the
Visigothic
kingdom.
68

Most
oral
messages,

however,
were
by
their
very
nature
ephemeral.
Gregory
of
Tours
mentions
dozens

of
messengers
in
his
Histories,
only
a
few
of
which
explicitly
state
that
there
was
any

sort
of
written
component
to
the
message.
69

The
second
issue
with
short-‐distance
correspondence
falls
much
more
into

the
realm
of
the
hypothetical.
Future
generations
tended
to
save
and
re-‐copy
the

correspondence
that
might
have
some
important
bearing
on
their
lives
or
that

belonged
to
posterity;
invitations
to
come
and
stay
at
one’s
villa
or
notes
thanking

67

E.g.
Ruricius
2.29-‐30;
diplomatic
letters
with
verbal
messages
include
Epistulae

Austrasicae
25
and
Variae
8.1.

68

Avitus
36
and
51.

69

E.g.
Gregory
II.37,
when
Clovis
sends
messengers
a
short
distance
to
the
church
of

St.
Martin
in
Tours,
with
no
mention
of
a
written
message.

71

the
recipient
for
a
gift
of
freshly-‐caught
fish
were
less
likely
to
survive
another

round
of
copying
into
a
fresh
manuscript
than
matters
of
theological
importance
or

negotiations
between
kings.
70

Several
modern
commentators
have
found
Ruricius’

entire
collection,
which
deals
almost
entirely
with
the
quotidian
concerns
of
the

Gallic
aristocracy,
to
be
devoid
of
any
real
interest.
71

It
is
no
wonder
that
the
writers

themselves
might
not
have
carefully
catalogued
and
saved
this
correspondence,

much
less
future
copyists
and
readers.
72

Papal
letters
speak
to
some
of
the
same
issues
regarding
short-‐distance

letters.
Hormisdas’
collection,
for
example,
shows
the
same
sort
of
editorial
bias

toward
short-‐distance
letters
that
the
corpora
of
the
Gallic
epistolographers
also

had.
Only
nine
of
Hormisdas’
extant
letters
went
to
recipients
within
Italy,
none
of

them
closer
to
Rome
than
Pavia,
Capua,
and
Misenum.
73

The
vast
majority
of

Hormisdas’
surviving
correspondence
went
to
recipients
in
the
East,
particularly

Constantinople,
and
he
penned
a
few
items
to
bishops
in
Spain
and
Gaul
as
well.
74

By
contrast,
Gregory’s
nearly
complete
record
shows
no
signs
of
geographic

bias
in
the
editing
process.
Mapping
his
letters
shows,
in
minute
detail,
rings
of

correspondents
in
the
immediate
vicinity
of
Rome,
then
further
afield
in
Italy,
and

finally
well
beyond
the
confines
of
the
peninsula.
No
fewer
than
eight
destinations

within
two
days’
travel
of
Rome,
and
six
within
a
day’s
journey,
show
up
in

70

As
above,
n.
4-‐6.

71

E.g.
Loyen,
Sidoine,
p.
169;
Hagendahl,
La
Correspondence
de
Ruricius,
10;
see
also

Mathisen,
Ruricius,
52.
72

On
Ruricius’
filing
system,
see
Mathisen,
Ruricius,
55-‐61.

73

Capua:
to
Bishop
Germanus,
549-‐50
in
Jaffe,
Regesta;
Misenum:
505-‐6
in
Jaffe;

Pavia:
505-‐6
in
Jaffe.

74

To
recipients
in
the
east:
Collectio
Avellana
105-‐30
(e.g.);
Spain:
496-‐8
in
Jaffe;

Gaul:
487-‐8
in
Jaffe.

72

Gregory’s
register.
Most
of
these
letters
were
written
in
the
first
three
years
of
his

pontificate.
75

Additionally,
Gregory
sent
at
least
16
letters
to
recipients
located
in

the
city
of
Rome.
76

Short-‐distance
letters
are
common
in
his
collection,
as
befits
a

pope
who
micro-‐managed
the
affairs
of
the
Italian
church
to
an
exceptional

degree.
77

Map
1:
Gregory’s
Italy

For
a
pontiff
who
was
so
deeply
involved
with
larger
concerns
and
the

broader
Mediterranean,
the
collection’s
continuing
focus
on
the
local
and
regional

context
speaks
to
the
nearly
complete
nature
of
the
archive.
Gregory
sent
few
letters

to
Spain,
and
avoided
Lombard-‐controlled
areas,
but
otherwise
there
does
not

75

Portus:
9.45
and
9.99.
Ostia:
9.45.
Mentana:
3.20.
Tivoli:
3.21.
Albano:
3.11.

Velletri:
2.13,
2.42.
Nepi:
2.10,
2.23.
Civitavecchia:
1.13.

76

Gregory
2.46,
3.10,
3.17-‐8,
3.54a,
4.18-‐9,
5.57a,
6.12,
6.44,
6.53,
8.12,
9.138,

9.229a,
11.15,
13.1.

77

Neil
and
Allen,
Gelasius,
14,
draw
a
parallel
with
Pope
Gelasius
in
terms
of

Gregory’s
focus
on
the
local
and
the
Italian
contexts,
but
Gregory’s
scope
of
action

was
far
wider
and
more
extensive.
See
Markus,
Gregory
the
Great,
206ff,
who
makes

similar
observations
but
does
not
pursue
them.

73

appear
to
be
any
indication
that
what
survives
from
his
collection
is
incomplete
or

structured
around
particular
geographic
biases.
78

In
this
Gregory’s
letters
stand
out

from
the
remainder
of
the
surviving
papal
correspondence
from
this
period,
which

survived
almost
entirely
in
collections
organized
around
specific
political
and

doctrinal
concerns.

The
gap
between
the
correspondence
that
once
existed
and
what
survives

today
is
abundantly
clear
in
Gregory
of
Tours’
Histories.
Messengers
and
envoys
are

a
staple
of
his
work,
with
dozens
if
not
hundreds
of
mentions
spread
throughout
all

ten
books.
From
Gregory’s
perspective,
the
Frankish
kings
were
in
constant

communication
both
with
one
another
and
with
foreign
rulers
from
Toledo
to

Constantinople.
Only
a
tiny
fraction
of
the
Frankish
kings’
diplomatic

correspondence,
however,
survives
today.
Exploring
this
gap
in
depth
will
provide
a

concrete
perspective
on
the
limitations
of
epistolary
source
survival.

The
disconnect
between
the
diplomatic
practices
of
the
period
and
what

material
happens
to
have
survived
comes
through
most
clearly
with
regard
to
the

Frankish
kingdoms’
relations
with
the
Visigoths.
No
diplomatic
letters
between
the

Visigoths
and
the
Franks
survive
from
the
entirety
of
the
sixth
century,
and
yet

Gregory
refers
to
a
veritable
stream
of
envoys
between
the
various
Frankish

kingdoms
and
the
Visigothic
court.
79

Gregory
usually
mentions
these
envoys

explicitly,
but
in
other
cases
it
is
possible
to
infer
their
existence.

78

On
which
see
Ch.
3,
nn.
103-‐4.

79

On
Gregory
and
Spain,
see
Edward
James,
“Gregory
of
Tours,
the
Visigoths
and

Spain,”
in
Simon
Barton
and
Peter
Linehan
(eds.),
Cross,
Crescent
and
Conversion:

Studies
of
Medieval
Spain
and
Christendom
in
Honor
of
Richard
Fletcher
(Leiden:
Brill,

74

The
marriage
of
Clovis’
daughter
Clotild
to
the
Visigothic
king
Amalaric
in

522
provides
an
example.
Gregory
puts
it
thus:
“Amalaric,
the
son
of
Alaric,
who
was

king
of
Spain,
asked
for
the
hand
of
their
[the
sons
of
Clovis]
sister
in
marriage.
This

they
graciously
granted
and
they
sent
her
off
to
Spain
with
a
great
dowry
of

expensive
jewelry.”
80

Amalaric
presumably
did
not
travel
from
Spain
to
Gaul

himself,
but
designated
an
envoy
to
conduct
marriage
negotiations.
Conversely,
it
is

safe
to
assume
that
envoys
from
the
Frankish
kings
accompanied
Clotild
to

Amalaric’s
court
when
she
departed.
Gregory
mentions
envoys
explicitly
in

discussing
another
marriage
pact
between
the
Franks
and
the
Visigoths,
when

Sigibert
married
Brunhild,
the
daughter
of
King
Athanagild.
81

King
Chilperic
shortly

thereafter
sent
messengers
to
the
Visigothic
court
to
ask
for
the
hand
of
Brunhild’s

sister.
82

Marriage
proposals
and
notices
of
their
acceptance
did
not
carry

themselves
from
king
to
king,
but
required
competent
people
to
deliver
the
proposal

and
the
gifts
that
helped
secure
them.

It
took
more
than
a
single
embassy
to
arrange
a
marriage
at
this
level.
The

betrothal
of
the
Frankish
princess
Rigunth,
the
daughter
of
King
Chilperic,
to
the
son

of
the
Visigothic
king
Leovigild
in
583
required
an
entire
series
of
envoys
traveling

back
and
forth
to
discuss
the
issue.
Chilperic
sent
Ansovald
and
Domegisel,
a
rare

pair
of
named
envoys,
to
Spain
to
see
into
the
issue
of
Rigunth’s
dowry,
and
on
their

2008),
43-‐64.
For
Gregory
and
the
Visigoths
in
an
earlier
period,
see
also
Wood,

“Gregory
of
Tours
and
Clovis.”

80

Gregory
III.1.
All
English
renderings
of
Gregory
are
via
Lewis
Thorpe’s
translation

unless
otherwise
noted.
Gregory
of
Tours,
The
History
of
the
Franks
(London:

Penguin,
1974).

81

Gregory
IV.27.

82

Gregory
IV.28.

75

way
home
Gregory
bombarded
them
with
questions
about
religious
issues
in
the

Visigothic
kingdom.
83

Another
pair
of
envoys
returned
to
Chilperic
from
Spain

shortly
after,
and
while
they
had
nothing
to
report
about
the
proposed
marriage,
but

brought
valuable
information
about
the
state
of
an
ongoing
Visigothic
civil
war.
84

Finally,
what
Gregory
described
as
“a
great
embassy
of
Visigoths”
arrived
at

Chilperic’s
court
to
convey
Rigunth
south.
85

Gregory
conveyed
an
impression
of
ongoing
communication
between
the

courts
of
the
Frankish
kings
and
the
Visigoths.
The
bishop
recounted,
at
great

length,
an
anecdote
in
which
he
disputed
with
a
Visigothic
envoy
named
Agilan
on

the
topic
of
Arianism,
but
did
not
state
the
actual
purpose
behind
the
man’s
visit
to

Gaul.
86

Gregory
later
disputed
with
another
Visigothic
envoy
named
Oppila
on
the

same
topic;
he
failed
to
move
the
man,
who
simply
went
on
his
way
to
Chilperic,

delivered
the
gifts
with
which
he
had
been
charged
by
King
Leovigild,
and
returned

home
to
Spain.
The
presents
were
meant
to
appease
Childebert,
Chilperic’s
nephew,

for
the
ill-‐treatment
of
Childebert’s
sister
Ingund
(married
to
Leovigild’s
son

Hermenegild)
and
then
her
exile
as
a
result
of
her
religious
leanings.
87

83

Gregory
VI.18
and
VI.29.

84

Gregory
VI.33.

85

Gregory
VI.45.
Rigunth
never
made
it
to
Spain;
her
father
was
assassinated,
Duke

Desiderius
of
Toulouse
impounded
her
treasure,
another
figure
impounded
what

remained
of
her
dowry,
and
finally
her
mother
Fredegund
eventually
sent
someone

to
Toulouse
to
bring
her
back
to
the
north.
See
Gregory
V.9-‐10
and
VII.39.

86

Gregory
V.43.

87

Gregory
VI.40
and
V.38.

For
more
on
this
incident
and
Gregory’s
take
on
it,
see

E.T.
Dailey,
Queens,
Consorts,
Concubines:
Gregory
of
Tours
and
the
Women
of
the

Merovingian
Elite
(Leiden:
Brill,
2015),
27-‐32;
Roger
Collins,
Visigothic
Spain,
409-‐
711
(Oxford:
Blackwell,
2004),
59-‐60.

76

The
relationship
between
the
Visigothic
kingdom
and
the
Frankish
kings
had

grown
intertwined
and
increasingly
complex.
The
ongoing
war
between
Kings

Guntram
and
Childebert
and
the
Visigoths
(in
the
late
580s)
occasioned
another

intensive
series
of
back-‐and-‐forth
communications.
Visigothic
envoys
arrived,

loaded
with
gifts,
to
discuss
peace
with
both
kings;
neither
wanted
anything
to
do

with
a
cessation
of
hostilities,
and
continued
prosecuting
the
conflict.
88

The
new

Visigothic
king
Reccared
eventually
succeeded
in
making
peace
with
Childebert,
but

not
with
Guntram,
who
refused
to
receive
the
envoys
from
Spain.
89

After
another

outbreak
of
hostilities
and
Reccared’s
conversion
from
Arianism,
Childebert
again

was
amenable
to
peace,
but
Guntram
once
again
sent
his
envoys
packing.
90

Childebert
eventually
promised
his
sister,
Chlodosind,
in
marriage
to
the
Visigothic

King
Reccared
following
yet
another
embassy.
91

Gregory
mentions,
implicitly
or
explicitly,
more
than
a
dozen
separate

embassies
between
the
various
kings
of
the
Franks
and
the
kings
of
the
Visigoths

over
the
course
of
the
sixth
century.
Most
of
those
–
all
but
one,
in
fact
–
took
place

within
his
lifetime,
and
he
had
personal
experience
in
dealing
with
Visigothic

envoys.
92

Moreover,
Gregory’s
text
was
surely
an
incomplete
accounting
of
all
the

embassies.
He
mentions
in
passing,
for
example,
that
a
man
named
Ragnovald
had

returned
from
an
embassy
to
Spain
on
behalf
of
King
Guntram
that
is
otherwise

88

Gregory
VIII.35,
VIII.38,
and
VIII.45.

89

Gregory
IX.1.
The
text
notes
that
the
Visigoths
refused
to
allow
anyone
from

Guntram’s
kingdom
into
the
cities
of
Septimania
because
of
the
ill
treatment
of

Reccared’s
envoys.

90

Gregory
IX.15-‐6.

91

Gregory
IX.25.

92

Gregory
V.43
and
VI.40.

77

unmentioned;
these
missions
happened
frequently
enough
that
Queen
Brunhild

dispatched
a
certain
Ebregisel
to
Spain
on
the
basis
of
his
deep
experience
in
such

matters.
93

Taken
in
sum,
the
evidence
from
this
source
strongly
suggests
that

diplomatic
contact
between
the
courts
of
the
Frankish
and
Visigothic
kings
was
a

regular
occurrence,
that
envoys
–
some
of
whom
developed
particular
expertise
–

were
in
constant
transit
between
Spain
and
Gaul,
and
that
there
was
a
well-‐defined

framework
of
gifts
and
marriage
alliances
for
these
activities.
94

In
keeping
with
the

theme
of
the
last
chapter,
this
contact
seems
to
have
drastically
intensified
at
times

of
crisis
and
conflict.

Most
of
Gregory’s
attention
regarding
envoys
and
embassies
fell
on
the

Frankish
kings’
relationships
with
the
Visigoths,
but
the
Lombards
and
especially

the
Byzantines
also
play
significant
roles.
Even
the
Suevi
in
Galicia
made
a
brief

appearance.
95

Lombard
envoys
appeared
in
the
text
on
four
occasions,
once

proposing
a
marriage
with
King
Childebert’s
sister
and
thrice
suing
for
peace
in
a

time
of
conflict.
96

The
relationship
with
the
Byzantines
was
much
more
complicated,

and
of
ideological
importance
in
addition
to
its
practical
value;
King
Chilperic,
for

example,
showed
off
the
gifts
his
envoys
brought
back
from
Constantinople
to
a

crowd
of
admiring
worthies,
including
Gregory.
The
bishop
of
Tours
also
remarked

93

Gregory
VII.10
for
Ragnovald,
IX.28
for
Ebregisel.

94

For
a
good
overview
of
Visigothic-‐Frankish
relations,
see
Ian
Wood,
The

Merovingian
Kingdoms
450-‐751
(London:
Longman,
1994),
168-‐73;
on
the
royal

women
in
these
marriages
and
the
wider
political
situation,
see
Janet
Nelson,
“A

propos
des
femmes
royales
dans
les
rapports
entre
le
monde
wisigothique
et
le

monde
franc
à
l’époque
de
Reccared,”
reprinted
in
Janet
Nelson,
Rulers
and
Ruling

Families
in
Early
Medieval
Europe:
Alfred,
Charles
the
Bald,
and
Others
(Aldershot:

Ashgate,
1999),
465-‐76.

95

Suevi:
Gregory
V.41.

96

Gregory
IX.25,
VI.42,
IX.29,
and
X.5.

78

on
Clovis’
receipt
of
letters
and
the
consulate
from
the
Emperor
Anastasius

following
his
victory
over
the
Visigoths
in
507.
97

The
later
Frankish
kings
maintained
at
least
semi-‐regular
contacts
with
the

Eastern
Empire,
and
Gregory
recorded
a
number
of
embassies
in
both
directions.
He

recounts
the
harrowing
tale
of
a
group
of
Chilperic’s
ambassadors
whose
journey

took
a
full
three
years
and
which
included
a
shipwreck
along
the
coast
of

Septimania.
98

Most
of
the
bishop’s
references
to
envoys
the
Empire
and
Gaul,

however,
came
in
the
context
of
the
Franks’
repeated
wars
against
the
Lombards.
In

one
incident
in
584,
the
Byzantine
Emperor
Maurice
paid
Childebert
50,000
pieces

of
gold
to
invade
Italy,
which
Childebert
did,
but
when
the
Frankish
king

subsequently
made
peace,
he
refused
to
pay
Maurice
back.
After
Byzantine
envoys

pressed
him
further,
Childebert
sent
an
army
to
Italy,
but
it
accomplished
little.
99

Shortly
thereafter,
Childebert
sent
a
trio
of
envoys
to
Constantinople
to
treat
with

Maurice.
They
stopped
over
in
Carthage,
where
a
robbery
committed
by
one
of
their

servants
led
to
the
deaths
of
two
of
the
three
envoys
at
the
hands
of
a
group
of

Roman
soldiers.
The
lone
survivor,
Grippo,
completed
the
journey
to
Constantinople

sans
his
two
erstwhile
companions,
and
returned
home
to
Childebert.
The
Frankish

king
immediately
invaded
Italy,
and
by
way
of
recompense
for
the
deaths
of
the

97

Gregory
VI.2
and
II.38.
On
this
incident,
see
Michael
McCormick,
Eternal
Victory:

Triumphal
Rulership
in
Late
Antiquity,
Byzantium,
and
the
Early
Medieval
West

(Cambridge:
Cambridge
University
Press,
1990),
335-‐7.
Clovis’
name
does
not

appear
on
the
official
list
of
consuls,
so
if
there
was
a
consulship
involved,
it
must

have
been
honorary.

98

Gregory
VI.2.

99

Gregory
VI.42,
with
VIII.18,
when
Gregory
mentions
the
presence
of
Byzantine

envoys
demanding
the
repayment
of
the
50,000
gold
pieces.

79

envoys
Maurice
handed
over
the
soldiers
responsible.
100

Maurice
needed

Childebert’s
aid
in
fighting
the
Lombards,
as
ineffective
as
it
turned
out
to
be.

Gregory’s
accounts
of
Byzantine-‐Frankish
relations
stand
out,
since
they
are

the
only
ones
for
which
the
evidence
of
diplomatic
letters
has
survived
as

corroboration.
The
Epistulae
Austrasicae
include
more
than
20
letters
that
date
to

the
period
of
these
embassies,
and
include
correspondence
written
in
the
names
of

Childebert,
Queen
Brunhild,
Maurice,
and
the
Byzantine
exarch
in
Ravenna.
Nearly

all
of
it
relates
to
the
ongoing
three-‐way
conflict
between
the
Franks,
Romans,
and

Lombards
in
Italy.
101

No
correspondence
between
the
Visigothic
and
Frankish

courts
survive,
despite
the
fact
that
every
formal
embassy
would
have
included

letters
of
credence
establishing
the
envoys’
identity.
These
were
often
in
addition
to

separate
correspondence
laying
out
the
precise
terms
to
be
discussed
during
these

visits.
The
practice
dated
back
at
least
three
hundred
years,
and
continued
to
be
a

constituent
part
of
normal
diplomatic
practice
in
the
post-‐Roman
west.
102

More
than
a
dozen
known
embassies
between
the
Frankish
and
Visigothic

kingdoms
produced
a
total
of
zero
extant
pieces
of
correspondence.
None
of
the

three
known
visits
of
Lombard
envoys
resulted
in
a
surviving
diplomatic
letter.

While
the
material
relating
to
the
Eastern
Empire
survived
in
greater
abundance,
all

100

Gregory
X.2-‐3.

101

Epistulae
Austrasicae
25-‐47.
See
Walter
Pohl,
“The
Empire
and
the
Lombards,”

75-‐104
in
Walter
Pohl
(ed.),
Kingdoms
of
the
Empire:
The
Integration
of
Barbarians

in
Late
Antiquity
(Leiden:
Brill,
1997),
99-‐103.

102

E.g.
Collectio
Avellana
116.5-‐7,
when
Pope
Hormisdas
insists
that
his
envoys

provide
their
letter
of
credence
to
Emperor
Anastasius
before
beginning

discussions.
Procopius,
Wars
VIII.19.8
refers
to
the
Utrigur
Huns
as
unusual
for
not

accompanying
their
envoys
with
diplomatic
letters.
For
background,
see
Andrew

Gillett,
Envoys
and
Political
Communication
in
the
Late
Antique
West,
411-‐533

(Cambridge:
Cambridge
University
Press,
2003),
246-‐7
with
n.
119-‐20.

80

of
it
relates
to
two
defined
periods,
one
between
530
and
550
and
the
other
dating

between
584
and
590.
The
evidence
of
Gregory’s
text
likewise
demonstrates
the

limited
nature
of
even
this
evidence,
as
it
records
embassies
that
took
place
between

these
two
periods.
The
ill-‐fated
envoys
who
shipwrecked
on
the
coast
of
Septimania,

for
example,
were
on
their
way
home
from
a
visit
with
Emperor
Tiberius,
who
died

in
582.
103

This
discussion
of
foreign
embassies
does
not
include
the
dozens
of
instances

of
communication,
both
formal
and
informal,
between
the
various
Frankish
kings

that
dot
each
book
of
Gregory’s
histories.
Those
communiqués
at
least
occasionally

took
written
form,
and
not
a
single
piece
of
it
survives.
Gregory
explicitly
mentions

an
envoy
named
Felix,
for
example,
who
presented
a
letter
from
King
Guntram
to

King
Childebert
upon
his
arrival.
104

Kings
Childebert
and
Chilperic
exchanged
signed

written
documents
in
which
they
agreed
to
carve
up
the
kingdom
of
King
Guntram

between
them,
along
with
a
letter
to
accompany
the
messenger
who
delivered
the

treaty.
A
servant
of
Bishop
Egidius,
who
acted
as
a
go-‐between
for
Chilperic
and

Childebert,
kept
shorthand
copies
of
the
documents
and
later
presented
them
to
a

legal
court.
105

Most
of
the
instances
of
communication
between
kings
in
Gregory’s

text
are
not
explicit
about
whether
there
was
a
letter,
however.
The
following
is
a

typical
formulation:
“When
King
Childebert
heard
what
was
happening,
he
sent

messengers
to
King
Guntram
to
suggest
that
a
group
of
bishops
from
the
two

103

Gregory
VI.2;
see
above,
n.
45.

104

Gregory
VIII.13.

105

Gregory
X.19.
Another
example
of
bishops
as
envoys
is
IX.39.

81

kingdoms
should
meet
together.”
106

It
seems
likely
that
such
a
message
included
a

written
component,
but
there
is
no
way
of
knowing.
Assuming
at
least
some
of
those

messages
were
written,
however,
it
underscores
precisely
how
little
of
the
once

abundant
diplomatic
correspondence
has
survived.
The
fact
that
all
of
the
extant

Frankish
royal
letters
deal
with
the
Eastern
Empire
is
an
accident
of
source
survival.

Editorial
decisions
and
the
vagaries
of
source
survival
shape
the
geographic

distribution
of
the
extant
correspondence
and
therefore
produce
specific
biases

toward
particular
cities
and
regions.
Short-‐distance
letters
are
underrepresented
in

the
correspondence
of
the
Gallic
epistolographers,
since
oral
communication

fulfilled
the
same
role
or
editors
chose
not
to
include
them
in
their
collections.

Those
that
do
survive
tend
to
deal
with
quotidian
issues.
A
comparison
of
the

surviving
diplomatic
correspondence
of
the
Frankish
kingdoms
with
the
embassies

that
Gregory
of
Tours
recorded
speak
to
the
massive
gap
between
what
once
existed

and
the
pittance
that
survives
today.

These
two
case
studies
demonstrate
the
extent
to
which
chance
and

conscious
editorial
decisions
shaped
the
corpus
of
material
that
survives
to
the

present
day.
Each
extant
collection
of
letters
was
subject
to
these
same
decisions

and
chances:
Cassiodorus
was
one
of
many
authors
who
served
as
an
amanuensis

for
the
Ostrogothic
kings,
for
example,
and
the
four
surviving
letters
of
Remigius
of

Reims
show
only
a
flicker
of
the
networks
of
northern
Gallic
bishops
in
the
late
fifth

century.
The
source
base
has
limitations,
and
one
clearly
cannot
argue
from
an

absence
of
evidence.
Conversely,
however,
this
demonstrates
the
value
and
meaning

106

Gregory
X.15;
IX.10
is
another
example
along
the
same
lines,
but
there
are
many.

Conversely,
VII.39
is
almost
certainly
an
oral
message.

82

of
the
surviving
letters,
and
the
possibilities
of
drawing
meaningful
conclusions

from
that
base
of
evidence.

83

Chapter
2:
The
Gallo-‐Roman
Epistolographers
and
the
Imposition
of
New

Political
Borders

In
the
autumn
of
474,
Sidonius
Apollinaris,
the
bishop
of
Clermont
in
the

Auvergne
region
of
Gaul,
wrote
a
letter
to
his
kinsman
Apollinaris,
a
resident
of

Vaison-‐la-‐Romaine
in
Provence.
107

Sidonius
corresponded
regularly
with

Apollinaris,
his
paternal
uncle,
though
not
as
often
as
Sidonius
might
have
hoped.

The
prolific
bishop
remarked
peevishly
on
several
occasions
as
to
Apollinaris’

unwillingness
to
answer
speedily
his
letters,
which
was
both
an
inconvenience
–

letter-‐carriers
willing
and
able
to
travel
the
several
hundred
miles
between
Vaison

and
Clermont
were
not
easy
to
find
–
and
a
moderate
breach
of
social
decorum
for

men
of
their
class.
108

Despite
his
occasional
annoyance,
Sidonius
cared
for
his
uncle’s
wellbeing,

which
is
what
occasioned
this
particular
letter.
The
now-‐elderly
Apollinaris
had

found
himself
in
a
spot
of
trouble:
Rumors
circulating
at
the
Burgundian
court

painted
him
as
a
traitor
who
was
attempting
to
hand
over
Vaison
to
the
newly-‐
appointed
western
emperor,
Julius
Nepos.
The
Burgundian
king
and
magister

militum,
Chilperic,
was
reportedly
not
happy
about
this
for
a
variety
of
complicated

reasons.
109

What
matters
in
this
case,
however,
is
that
Sidonius
sent
a
letter
offering

107

Sidonius
5.6
is
the
letter
in
question.
Sidonius
7.4
establishes
Apollinaris,
along

with
brother
and
fellow
correspondent
Simplicius,
as
residents
of
Vaison;

Apollinaris
had
earlier
owned
an
estate
near
Nimes
(Sidonius
2.9).

108

Sidonius
4.6,
5.3.
A
total
of
four
letters
in
the
corpus
went
to
Apollinaris.

109

Sidonius
5.6-‐7.
The
political
background
to
this
incident
is
complicated,
as
the

extent
to
which
Chilperic
was
acting
as
Roman
official,
Burgundian
king,
or
in
some

other
capacity
is
unclear,
as
is
the
extent
to
which
those
are
even
viable
standalone

analytical
categories;
see
Ian
N.
Wood,
“Gentes,
kings
and
kingdoms
–
the
emergence

of
states.
The
kingdom
of
the
Gibichungs,”
in
Hans-‐Werner
Goetz,
Jörg
Jarnut
and

Walter
Pohl
(eds.),
Regna
and
Gentes:
The
Relationship
between
Late
Antique
and

84

his
aid
in
entreating
Chilperic
and
those
close
to
him
to
abandon
any
sort
of
grudge

against
Apollinaris.

Sidonius
probably
wrote
the
letter
in
Clermont
and
entrusted
it
to
a
letter-‐
carrier,
whose
identity
is
unknown.
110

That
courier
set
out
due
east
along
the

branch
of
the
Via
Agrippa,
the
major
highway
that
linked
Lyon
and
Bordeaux,

traveling
through
the
rich
rolling
fields
and
wooded
hills
that
surrounded
the
road.

If
on
foot,
he
would
have
crossed
over
the
Loire
and
passed
through
the
market

town
of
Forum
Segusiavorum
(present-‐day
Feurs),
which
sat
at
the
crossroads
of

several
substantial
road
systems,
after
perhaps
four
days’
steady
travel;
if
on

horseback,
two
is
more
likely.

Before
he
reached
Feurs,
however,
the
traveler
crossed
the
border
from

ostensibly
Roman,
or
perhaps
Visigothic,
territory
into
the
Burgudian
kingdom,

perhaps
at
the
crossing
of
the
Loire.
Precisely
what
that
meant
in
the
autumn
of
474

is
difficult
to
say.
We
do
not
know
whether
it
would
have
been
standard
procedure

for
a
courier
to
be
searched
or
detained
at
this
time;
reports
of
difficulties
at
the

border
crossing
between
the
two
kingdoms
only
appear
in
the
sources
afterward,

during
times
of
political
instability.
111

In
any
case,
the
letter-‐carrier
continued
on
to

Lyon,
arriving
after
several
more
days
of
travel.
Lyon
was
a
major
hub,
and
had
been

Early
Medieval
Peoples
and
Kingdoms
in
the
Transformation
of
the
Roman
World,

(Leiden:
Brill,
2003),
especially
251-‐4.
See
also
Justine
Favrod,
Histoire
politique
du

royaume
burgonde
(443-‐534)
(Lausanne:
Bibliotheque
historique
vaudoise,
1997),

149-‐51.

110

Aside
from
several
letters
that
serves
as
recommendations
for
the
bearer,
none

of
Sidonius’s
correspondence
with
Apollinaris
or
Simplicius
explicitly
names
the

courier,
which
makes
it
impossible
even
to
speculate
on
who
carried
this
particular

piece
of
correspondence.

111

On
which
see
Sidonius
9.2
and
Avitus
36.

85

for
nearly
five
centuries.
It
was
the
crossroads
for
all
of
the
major
highways
of
Gaul,

and
it
sat
at
the
confluence
of
the
Rhone
and
Saone.
112

Our
courier
had
a
choice
here.
He
would
be
turning
to
the
south
to
complete

the
second
leg
of
the
journey
to
Vaison,
but
he
could
either
continue
overland,
via

the
southern
branch
of
the
Via
Agrippa
that
ran
parallel
to
the
Rhone
and
led
to

Arles,
or
he
could
take
the
faster
option
and
go
directly
down
the
river.
113

If
he
chose

to
go
overland,
he
would
pass
first
through
Vienne,
only
a
day’s
travel
south
of
Lyon,

and
then
Valence
several
days
later.
Finally,
he
would
reach
Orange,
an
attractive

town
studded
with
monuments
impressive
to
the
modern-‐day
eye,
though
perhaps

less
so
to
a
fifth-‐century
courier,
that
dominated
the
southward
route.
From
there

the
courier
would
turn
northeast
toward
the
wealthy
hill
town
of
Vaison,
less
than
a

day’s
journey
further
on,
and
reach
his
destination,
having
traveled
entirely
within

Burgundian
territory
since
passing
over
the
Loire.
114

Cousin
Apollinaris
received
his

letter,
though
precisely
what
became
of
him
we
do
not
know.

112

On
which
see
J.F.
Drinkwater,
Roman
Gaul:
The
Three
Provinces,
58
BC
–
AD
260,

(New
York:
Routledge
(Routledge
Revivals),
2014),
124-‐8;
Woolf,
Becoming
Roman,

88-‐9.

113

On
the
Rhone
corridor,
see
McCormick,
Origins,
78-‐80.
Per
ORBIS,
traveling

sedately
on
horseback
would
provide
roughly
the
same
speed
of
movement
as
going

downriver,
while
traveling
by
foot
would
take
roughly
twice
as
long.

114

James
C.
Anderson,
Roman
Architecture
in
Provence
(Cambridge:
Cambridge

University
Press,
2013),
54-‐60.
Vaison
is
only
20
km
distant
from
Orange,
and

Anderson
suggests
(correctly,
in
my
view,
based
on
the
evidence
of
Sidonius’s

letters
in
addition
to
other
sources)
that
area’s
elite
maintained
city
homes
in

Orange
and
country
villas
in
Vaison.

86

Map
2:
The
courier’s
journey
from
Sidonius
to
Apollinaris.

In
the
course
of
that
journey,
the
letter-‐carrier
crossed
a
major
political

border,
passed
over
several
natural
barriers,
and
utilized
the
existing
infrastructure

of
several
different
major
roads
and
probably
riverine
transport
to
reach
his

destination.
Hills,
rivers,
and
a
change
in
political
leadership
did
not
prevent

Sidonius
from
getting
a
message
through
to
his
kinsman,
and
the
convenience
of
the

87

built
environment
made
it
straightforward
for
the
courier
to
travel
nearly
400
km
in

no
more
than
ten
days,
and
potentially
much
less.

The
example
is
instructive
for
the
purposes
of
this
chapter,
which
focuses
on

the
question
of
geographic
boundaries
within
the
works
of
the
Gallo-‐Roman

epistolographers:
Sidonius
Apollinaris,
Ruricius
of
Limoges,
Ennodius
of
Pavia,
and

to
a
lesser
extent
Avitus
of
Vienne.
A
variety
of
factors
influenced
the
spatial
worlds

in
which
authors
operated.
The
location
of
relatives
or
occupational
colleagues,
local

politics,
the
strength
of
social
bonds,
simple
ease
of
travel,
and
personal

idiosyncrasies
all
contributed
to
the
geographic
patterns
of
correspondence
visible

in
the
surviving
material.
Nevertheless,
the
vast
majority
of
the
extant
letters

traveled
within
the
bounded
political
spaces
to
which
the
authors
belonged.
As

Sidonius’
letter
to
Apollinaris
and
its
path
through
Burgundian
territory
suggests,

there
were
exceptions
to
this
–
bishops
communicating
with
their
colleagues
in

other
polities,
diplomatic
letters
between
rulers,
the
occasional
bit
of
personal

correspondence
–
and
the
local
political
context
was
a
substantial
factor,
but
by
and

large,
the
authors’
social
and
work
worlds
were
in
meaningful
ways
delimited
by

political
boundaries.

These
patterns
shifted
over
time.
At
the
beginning
of
the
period
under

investigation,
in
the
460s,
the
Western
Empire
was
still
technically
speaking
a
single

political
unit.
Various
barbarian
groups
held
sway
in
large
parts
of
Gaul
and

Hispania,
to
be
sure,
but
at
least
in
theory
there
were
no
meaningful
barriers
to

communication.
This
changed
during
the
lifetime
of
Sidonius
Apollinaris,
whose

recorded
activities
spanned
the
boundary
between
a
still-‐extant
empire
and
the

88

muddled,
confusing
state
of
affairs
that
prevailed
afterward.
Early
on,
he
had

correspondents
everywhere,
but
over
time
his
communicative
world
grew

restricted,
and
it
is
possible
to
track
quite
precisely
the
shifts
in
his
epistolary

possibilities
as
the
political
situation
became
more
and
more
complex
and
hostile.

By
the
beginning
of
the
sixth
century,
Ruricius
of
Limoges
wrote
entirely
to

correspondents
situated
within
the
bounds
of
the
Visigothic
Kingdom,
a
situation

Ralph
Mathisen
ascribes
to
political
difficulties,
problems
of
communication,
mere

coincidence,
or
perhaps
–
only
perhaps
–
to
social
regionalization.
115

Avitus
of

Vienne
wrote
little
to
people
outside
the
Burgundian
Kingdom,
and
when
he
did
so

it
was
almost
entirely
in
an
official
capacity;
he
had
to
take
great
pains
to
avoid

suspicion
when
writing
to
his
kinsman
Apollinaris,
the
son
of
Sidonius
Apollinaris,

who
lived
in
the
Visigothic
Kingdom.
116

Political
boundaries
mattered,
and
as
the
Roman
Empire
shifted
from
an

agreed-‐upon
fiction
to
something
that
clearly
no
longer
existed
between
the
470s

and
Justinian’s
wars
of
reconquest
in
the
530s,
those
ad
hoc
frontiers
between

nascent
kingdoms
hardened
into
something
more
permanent
and
more
real.
117

This

115

Mathisen,
Ruricius,
32-‐3.

116

Avitus
36
in
particular,
but
see
also
Avitus
24
and
52.
Avitus
36
mentions
the

need
to
be
circumspect
with
letters
and
the
preference
for
entrusting
sensitive

information
to
messengers
in
spoken
form.
Caesarius
of
Arles
also
got
himself
in

trouble;
see
Ian
N.
Wood,
“Gregory
of
Tours
and
Clovis,”
Revue
Belge
de
Philologie
et

d’Histoire
63
(1985),
249-‐72,
257.

117

On
which
see
Guy
Halsall,
“Political
Communities?
A
Comparison
of
the
Roman

and
Merovingian
Polities,”
text
of
a
paper
given
at
the
2015
International
Medieval

Congress,
May
14
th

2015;
retrieved
from

http://600transformer.blogspot.com/2015/05/political-‐communities-‐comparison-‐
of.html
on
June
25th
2015.
In
Halsall’s
formulation,
“In
the
order
of
the
Imaginary,

the
Empire
lived
on
until
its
‘second
death’,
during
Justinian’s
wars
of
reconquest.
I

can
find
no
evidence
that
between
c.475
and
c.525
westerners
believed
that
the

89

shift
had
real
consequences.
Authors
could
still
send
personal
letters
across
borders,

but
those
connections
came
fewer
and
farther
between,
and
depended
more
and

more
strongly
on
the
vagaries
of
the
immediate
political
context.
118

By
520,
the
kind

of
Gallo-‐Roman
aristocratic
networking
that
was
so
obvious
in
the
works
of

Sidonius,
Ruricius,
Avitus,
and
Ennodius
had
largely
disappeared.
The
deaths
of

correspondents,
changes
in
status,
and
most
importantly
the
shifting
political

landscape
all
contributed
to
the
increasingly
limited
possibilities
for

communication.
119

Sidonius
is
the
perfect
representative
of
these
trends,
and
it
is
worth

examining
his
life
and
epistolary
output
in
depth.
He
was
born
in
Lyon
in
431
or

432,
where
his
family
maintained
an
estate,
and
moved
to
Arles
to
receive
his

advanced
education
in
declamation,
oratory,
and
rhetoric.
His
first
recorded
trip
to

Italy
came
in
455,
when
he
delivered
a
panegyric
on
behalf
of
his
father-‐in-‐law,
the

newly
crowned,
usurping
Gallic
emperor
Avitus.
Avitus’
reign
was
short-‐lived,
but

Sidonius
managed
to
come
through
the
ordeal
without
much
damage
to
his

reputation,
even
delivering
another
panegyric
in
Majorian’s
presence
in
Lyon
in

traumatic
and
unprecedented
non-‐existence
of
a
western
Empire,
which
they

certainly
noticed,
or
the
stalemate
between
the
kingdoms,
constituted
a
permanent

state
of
affairs.”
In
more
depth,
Arnold,
Theoderic
and
the
Roman
Imperial

Restoration,
argues
that
Theoderic’s
rule
in
Italy
was
essentially
a
straightforward

revival
of
the
Western
Empire
after
the
usurpation
of
Odovacer.

118

E.g.
Ennodius
of
Pavia,
who
wrote
many
letters
to
residents
of
the
Visigothic
and

Burgundian
kingdoms,
including
his
relative
Apollinaris
(2.8,
not
the
son
of
Sidonius

Apollinaris),
and
his
sister
Euprepia
(2.15,
3.15,
3.28),
among
others.

119

Shanzer
and
Wood,
Avitus,
p.
6;
in
the
formulation
of
Michele
R.
Salzman,
“Travel

and
Communication
in
The
Letters
of
Symmachus,”
in
Ellis
and
Kidner
(eds.),
Travel,

81-‐94:
“Travel…served
to
delimit
the
boundaries
of
elite
Roman
society
and
to

retain
an
image
of
a
world
unchanged
in
time
or
space.”
(92)

90

458.
120

He
traveled
to
Rome
again
to
serve
as
praefectus
urbi
in
468
or
469,
but

quickly
returned
to
Clermont
after
a
scandal,
a
potential
plot
to
divide
the
empire

and
rule
over
the
remnants,
involving
the
Praetorian
Prefect
Arvandus.
Following

his
election
as
bishop
of
Clermont,
Sidonius
spent
most
of
the
rest
of
his
life
in
the

Auvergne,
aside
from
a
brief
exile
in
Bordeaux.
121

Sidonius’
life
featured
a
great
deal
of
travel,
and
it
embodies
the
possibilities

of
personal
mobility
available
to
a
wealthy,
well-‐connected
aristocrat
in
the
waning

days
of
the
Roman
Empire.
122

He
was
born
in
or
near
one
major
city,
Lyon,
received

his
advanced
education
in
another,
Arles,
and
spent
chunks
of
his
adult
life
outside

the
confines
of
his
native
province.
By
the
time
of
his
death
at
some
point
in
the

480s,
however,
the
Visigoths
controlled
Clermont
and
Arles
and
Lyon
belonged
to

the
Burgundians.
Italy
was
under
the
rule
of
Odoacer
and
would
soon
pass
into
the

hands
of
Theoderic
and
the
Ostrogoths.
The
circumstances
that
had
allowed
for

Sidonius’
mobile
life
had
shifted.

The
geographic
distribution
of
Sidonius’
letters
reflects
that
fading
ease
of

travel
and
the
wide-‐ranging
contacts
it
facilitated.
He
had
correspondents
dispersed

throughout
Gaul,
from
Narbonne
in
the
south
to
Trier
in
the
north,
between

Bordeaux
in
the
west
and
Grenoble
in
the
east.
123

Those
contacts
were
not
evenly

120

On
which
see
Harries,
Sidonius
Apollinaris,
75-‐85.

121

Ibid.,
chapters
5-‐7
for
Sidonius’s
tenure
as
praefectus
urbi;
for
his
later
career,
see

ibid.,
222-‐40.

122

For
travel
by
an
earlier
and
wealthier
aristocrat,
see
Salzman,
“Travel
and

Communication.”

123

Narbonne:
8.4,
to
Consentius,
which
discusses
the
recipient’s
home
in
Narbonne;

Trier:
4.17,
to
Arbogastes,
governor
of
Trier;
Bordeaux:
8.9,
to
Lampridius;

Grenoble:
3.14,
to
his
friend
Placidus,
which
explicitly
locates
the
recipient
in

Grenoble
(Gratianopolis).
Sidonius
had
contacts
in
Italy
as
well,
but
it
is
impossible

91

distributed
throughout
Gaul,
however,
and
clustered
in
specific
areas
to
which
he

had
a
close
connection.
Two
stand
out:
Provence,
especially
the
region
surrounding

Arles,
and
Lyon,
which
are
notable
not
just
for
the
volume
of
correspondence
but

the
variety
of
different
contacts
he
maintained.
124

Sidonius
was
born
in
Lyon,
visited

several
times
during
the
460s
and
470s,
and
maintained
close
relationships
with

several
residents
there
and
in
nearby
Vienne,
including
Constantius,
who
helped

Sidonius
edit
the
first
seven
books
of
letters.
125

Sidonius
received
his
education
in

oratory
and
declamation
in
Arles,
and
had
several
contacts
there,
ranging
from

friends
like
Petronius
(the
dedicatee
of
Book
8)
to
the
bishop,
Leontius.
126

Aside

from
Arles,
Sidonius
had
friends
in
Nimes
and
corresponded
on
numerous
occasions

with
Graecus,
the
bishop
of
Marseille.
Vaison
also
figures
prominently:
two
of

Sidonius’
kin,
Simplicius
and
the
aforementioned
Apollinaris,
were
residents
of

Vaison,
while
the
city’s
bishop,
Fonteius,
was
a
friend.
127

Sidonius
had
many
contacts
to
the
north
of
Clermont.
The
most
distant
of

them
include
Principius,
bishop
of
Soissons,
Remigius,
the
famous
bishop
of
Reims,

to
pin
down
the
precise
destinations
to
which
he
wrote
during
his
time
as
praefectus

urbi
–
the
letters
lack
internal
references
to
the
locations
of
the
correspondents
and

they
cannot
be
identified
from
other
soruces
–
and
there
is
no
evidence
from
his

later
career
to
suggest
that
he
maintained
those
relationships.

124

46
of
the
152
(128
whose
destinations
can
be
identified)
letters
in
Sidonius’s

corpus
–
nearly
a
third
of
the
total
–
went
to
recipients
either
around
Lyon
or
in

Provence.
Narbonne
was
another
frequent
destination,
but
the
evidence
is
less

secure
and
he
only
had
at
most
two
contacts
there.

125

See
Harries,
Sidonius,
36-‐47,
and
Sidonius
1.1
(for
Constantius),
2.12
and
5.17
for

visits.
Sidonius
also
visited
Vienne
and
had
several
correspondents
there,
including

the
bishop,
Claudianus.

126

On
Sidonius’s
education
and
time
in
Arles,
see
Harries,
Sidonius,
47-‐53;
contacts:

Sidonius
5.1,
6.3,
8.1,
and
9.16.

127

Nimes:
Sidonius
2.9
(to
Donidius),
7.12
(Ferreolus),
9.13
(Tonantius);
Graecus
of

Marseille:
6.8,
7.2,
7.7,
7.10,
9.4;
Vaison:
3.11,
4.6,
4.7,
4.12,
5.3,
5.4,
5.6,
5.7,
7.4.

92

Arbogastes,
the
governor
of
Trier,
and
Auspicius,
bishop
of
Toul.
128

A
closer
ring
of

contacts
includes
Lupus,
bishop
of
Troyes,
to
whom
Sidonius
wrote
four
letters,

Agroecius,
bishop
of
Sens,
Prosperus,
bishop
of
Orleans,
and
Censorius,
bishop
of

Auxerre.
129

Despite
Sidonius’
far-‐ranging
contacts,
however,
he
wrote
only
twelve

letters
to
recipients
in
the
area,
leaving
the
impression
that
those
relationships
were

broadly
dispersed
in
space
but
not
particularly
deep
or
long-‐lasting:
Aside
from
the

letters
to
Lupus
of
Troyes,
they
are
largely
formal
and
introductory.
The
evidence

leaves
us
with
a
frustratingly
incomplete
view
of
the
area’s
networks.
It
was
clearly

more
extensive
than
the
surviving
evidence
shows:
Sidonius
exhorted
Arbogastes
to

correspond
with
Lupus
of
Troyes
and
Auspicius
of
Toul,
for
example,
so
it
is
not
as

though
the
distant
Sidonius
was
the
central
node
through
whom
these
networks

operated.
130

While
we
can
hear
only
an
echo
of
the
full
extent
of
this
network,

Sidonius’
correspondents
in
northern
Gaul
are
significant
in
comparison
to
Ruricius,

who
had
extremely
limited
contacts
further
north.

One
puzzling
aspect
of
the
distribution
of
Sidonius’
letters
is
the
lack
of

identifiable
correspondents
in
and
around
Toulouse,
the
seat
of
the
Visigothic

Kingdom.
Arguing
from
the
absence
of
evidence
is
tricky,
but
the
pattern
is

nevertheless
striking,
especially
when
one
takes
into
account
that
Sidonius
is
known

128

Principius
(who
was
the
brother
of
Remigius
of
Reims):
8.14
and
9.8;
Remigius:

9.7;
Arbogastes:
4.17;
Auspicius:
7.11.
Book
9
has
a
somewhat
exotic
feel,
with
most

of
the
letters
going
to
relatively
distant
recipients.
These
points
might,
however,
be

considered
outliers;
Sidonius
only
sent
one
extant
letter
to
each
recipient
(except

Principius,
who
received
two
letters),
and
the
letters
to
Arbogastes,
Remigius,
and

the
first
to
Principius
all
seem
to
be
the
first
instance
of
contact
between
the
men.

The
letter
to
Auspicius
is
the
only
one
framed
as
part
of
an
ongoing
relationship.

129

Lupus:
6.1,
6.4,
6.9,
9.11;
Agroecius:
7.5;
Prosperus:
8.15;
Censorius:
6.10.

130

Sidonius
4.17.3.

93

to
have
traveled
to
the
city
several
times
in
the
early
460s
to
visit
friends
and
wrote

a
favorable
description
of
the
Visigothic
king
Theodoric
II.
Still,
only
three
letters

from
his
collection
can
even
tentatively
be
located
within
a
hundred
miles
of
the

city.
131

It
is
possible
that
some
of
the
unidentified
recipients
were
residents
of
this

region
or
that
Sidonius
excised
correspondence
directed
to
residents
of
the
area
in

the
editorial
process.
There
is
also
the
possibility
that
Sidonius’
acquaintances
had

either
moved
away,
as
did
many
Gallo-‐Roman
aristocrats
during
the
turbulent
460s

and
470s,
or
that
these
relationships
had
faded
over
the
years
as
tensions
grew

between
the
Visigoths
and
the
residents
of
Clermont.
132

This
last
possibility
is
both

the
most
likely
and
the
most
salient
here.

A
Gallic
aristocrat
who
came
of
age
in
the
next
generation
simply
did
not

have
access
to
the
same
communicative
opportunities
as
Sidonius.
Ruricius
of

Limoges,
the
cousin
of
the
bishop
of
Clermont
who
was
active
between
the
470s
and

the
first
decade
of
the
sixth
century,
was
something
of
a
homebody.
He
displayed

little
desire
to
travel,
but
his
movements
were
also
constrained
by
structural
factors

that
were
not
a
concern
for
Sidonius
thirty
years
before.
Nor
was
that
lack
of
travel

the
result
of
a
lack
of
connections
to
the
great
and
the
good
of
the
region,
as
he

131

See
Harries,
Sidonius,
101-‐2
on
the
visits
and
Sidonius
1.2
on
Theodoric;
letters:

possibly
4.8
to
Evodius,
4.22
and
8.3
to
Leo
of
Narbonne,
a
counselor
to
the

Visigothic
king.
None
of
these
identifications
are
secure.

132

On
emigrants
from
Visigothic
Aquitania,
see
Ralph
Whitney
Mathisen,

“Emigrants,
Exiles,
and
Survivors:
Aristocratic
Options
in
Visigothic
Aquitania,”

Phoenix
38
(1984),
159-‐170,
especially
165-‐70.
He
treats
all
of
Aquitania
as
a
single

unit,
however,
and
does
not
examine
the
possibility
that
circumstances
varied

locally.

94

counted
among
his
contacts
some
of
the
most
influential
people
in
the
Visigothic

Kingdom.
133

Gaul
was
different
during
Ruricius’
life,
and
the
distribution
of
his
letters

reflects
that.
He
addressed
far
fewer
correspondents
than
his
kinsman;
he
repeats

the
same
recipients,
and
thus
the
same
locations,
over
and
over.
Like
Sidonius,

Ruricius
had
strong
connections
to
the
Provence
region
and
the
cities
of
Arles
and

Nimes.
He
corresponded
with
Julianus
Pomerius,
an
abbot
in
Arles,
and
two
bishops

of
Arles,
Aeonius
and
his
successor,
Caesarius.
Ruricius
also
carried
on
a
lively

correspondence
with
Sedatus,
the
bishop
of
Nimes.
134

Ruricius’
estate
near
modern

Dégagnac,
roughly
eighty
miles
south
of
Limoges,
appears
several
times
as
both
the

location
from
which
he
wrote
and
as
a
destination
for
letters
to
his
son

Constantius.
135

Ruricius’
strongest
connections,
however,
were
undoubtedly
to
the

area
around
Clermont.
He
wrote
three
extant
letters
to
Sidonius
while
he
was

bishop,
five
to
his
successors,
Euphrasius
and
Aprunculus,
and
numerous
others
to

friends
and
family
in
the
area.
136

Unlike
Sidonius,
Ruricius
had
several

133

Ralph
Mathisen,
“The
Letters
of
Ruricius
of
Limoges
and
the
Passage
from
Roman

to
Frankish
Gaul,”
in
Ralph
W.
Mathisen
and
Danuta
Shanzer
(eds.),
Society
and

Culture
in
Late
Antique
Gaul:
Revisiting
the
Sources
(Burtlington:
Ashgate,
2001),

101-‐15;
105.

134

Arles:
Ruricius
1.15,
2.8,
2.9
(to
Aeonius),
2.33
and
2.36
(to
Caesarius),
2.10
and

2.11
(to
Julianus
Pomerius);
to
Sedatus
of
Nimes:
2.18,
2.19,
2.34,
2.35.
There
is
also

a
letter
to
Capillutus
(2.31),
who
seems
to
have
been
a
resident
of
Provence
and
who

often
served
as
the
carrier
of
Ruricius’
letters
to
the
region.

135

Location
at
time
of
composition:
1.12-‐1.14;
to
Constantius:
2.24
and
2.25.
See

Mathisen,
Ruricius,
233
for
the
location
of
Ruricius’
estate.
This
is
not
a
certain

identification,
but
it
seems
logical.

136

To
Sidonius:
1.8,
1.9,
1.16;
to
Euphrasius:
2.22;
to
Aprunculus:
2.49,
2.55-‐2.58;

Hesperius
the
rhetor,
a
friend
of
Ruricius,
was
likely
a
resident
of
Clermont
as
well

(1.1-‐1.3).

95

correspondents
in
or
near
Toulouse
and
therefore
at
the
heart
of
the
Visigothic

presence
in
Aquitania.
137

Map
3:
The
distribution
of
Ruricius’s
letters.

Most
significant
is
the
fact
that
only
one
of
Ruricius’
letters
can
be
argued
to

have
passed
beyond
the
boundaries
of
Visigothic
Aquitania.
138

Even
this
case
is

uncertain,
however,
because
it
implies
that
both
correspondents
were
subject
to
the

137

2.30,
to
Bishop
Heraclinus,
2.38,
to
Bishop
Petrus,
and
2.39,
to
Eudomius
and

Melanthia.
None
of
these
identifications
are
totally
secure
–
see
Mathisen,
Ruricius,

188
and
205-‐6
for
the
logic
–
but
they
are
plausible.

138

Letter
2.51,
from
Ruricius
to
Bishop
Censurius
(or
Censorius)
of
Auxerre,
deals

with
a
legal
matter.
Mathisen,
Ruricius,
32
with
n.
59,
discusses
this
facet
of
Ruricius’

correspondence,
but
does
not
pursue
it
in
depth.

96

same
legal
jurisdiction.
139

Every
other
letter
whose
addressee
can
be
identified
falls

firmly
within
the
boundaries
of
Visigothic
territory.
Ruricius’
correspondence

completely
lacks
the
northern
contacts
of
Sidonius,
and
aside
from
Auxerre,
the

farthest
north
his
letters
reached
was
Tours.
140

Sidonius’
strong
connections
with

the
area
around
Lyon
and
Vienne,
a
product
of
his
birth
in
the
area
and
consistent

travel
there
later
in
life,
are
likewise
completely
absent
from
Ruricius’
collection.
141

The
comparison
between
Sidonius’
and
Ruricius’
correspondence
is

instructive.
The
two
men
were
closely
related,
wrote
to
each
other
on
numerous

occasions,
and
shared
no
fewer
than
twelve
correspondents
(out
of
42
total
for

Ruricius.)
142

The
geographic
distribution
of
their
contacts,
however,
drastically

differed.
Ruricius
had
no
contacts
around
Lyon
and
Vienne,
he
had
no
contacts
in
the

north,
and
in
sum,
had
no
correspondents
outside
Visigothic
territory.
How
can
we

explain
this
disparity?

139

The
northern
border
of
the
Visigothic
kingdom
has
traditionally
been
seen
as
the

Loire
River,
but
it
is
possible
that
the
territory
ceded
to
the
Visigoths
included

Auxerre
as
well;
see
Ruricius
2.51,
probably
the
same
Censorius
to
whom
Sidonius

wrote
(6.10).
See
the
invaluable
commentary
by
Mathisen,
Ruricius,
222,
and
Ralph

Mathisen
and
Hagith
Sivan,
“Forging
a
New
Identity:
The
Kingdom
of
Toulouse
and

the
Frontiers
of
Visigothic
Aquitania,”
in
Alberto
Ferreiro
(ed.),
The
Visigoths:

Studies
in
Culture
and
Society
(Turnhout:
Brepols,
1999),
1-‐62
for
an
in-‐depth
study

of
the
formation
and
expansion
of
the
Visigothic
kingdom.

140

2.64,
a
rather
prickly
letter
to
Volusianus,
the
bishop
of
Tours.
It
is
possible
that

Volusianus
was
not
in
Tours;
he
was
exiled
at
some
point,
but
precisely
when
is

unclear.
Ruricius
also
received
a
letter
from
Eumerius,
bishop
of
Angers
(mentioned

in
2.8),
but
there
is
no
hard
evidence
to
demonstrate
that
Ruricius
was
acquainted

with
him.

141

Ruricius
wrote
only
one
letter
that
might
have
gone
to
a
correspondent
in
Lyon,

2.52
to
a
Stephanus.
There
was
a
Bishop
Stephanus
in
Lyon
at
this
time,
but
it
is

more
likely
that
the
recipient
was
a
resident
of
Arles.
See
Mathisen,
Ruricius,
p.
223

for
discussion.

142

Correspondence
between
the
two
men:
Ruricius
1.8,
1.9,
1.16,
and
Sidonius
4.16,

5.15,
and
8.10.

97

It
might
have
been
a
product
of
the
editorial
process,
with
Ruricius
himself

(for
the
first
book)
and
an
anonymous
editor
(for
the
second
book)
excising
any

record
of
correspondence
outside
the
kingdom.
143

Assuming
the
latter
happened

after
Ruricius’
death,
and
therefore
after
the
Frankish
conquest
of
Aquitaine
in
the

years
after
the
Battle
of
Vouille
in
507,
why
would
the
editor
have
bothered
to

excise
correspondence
that
implicated
the
author
in
possibly
suspicious
activities

that
no
longer
held
consequences,
especially
if
Ruricius
were
already
deceased?

Given
that
context,
it
is
difficult
to
envision
a
situation
in
which
it
mattered
whether

Ruricius
had
written
to
someone
in
the
Frankish
or
Burgundian
kingdoms.

There
is
no
reason
to
think
that
the
roads
outside
of
the
Visigothic
Kingdom

suddenly
became
impassable
between
the
470s
and
500s,
even
in
the
absence
of

concerted
efforts
at
maintenance,
and
no
letter
mentions
difficulties
of
that
sort.
30

years
is
a
brief
period
in
which
to
posit
the
near-‐total
breakdown
of
an

infrastructure
that
had
lasted
for
centuries
and
would
last
for
centuries
more.
144

There
is
likewise
no
reason
to
see
an
increased
difficulty
in
finding
letter-‐carriers,

though
it
did
become
increasingly
dangerous
for
them
to
get
to
their
destinations.

Two
specific
political
processes
in
the
470s
and
to
a
lesser
extent
the
480s

molded
Sidonius’
networks
into
a
less
cosmopolitan
shape
and
gave
Ruricius’

collection
its
limited
geographic
scope.
First,
the
Visigoths
under
the
leadership
of

King
Euric
expanded
their
kingdom
greatly
between
470
and
475,
taking
possession

143

Mathisen,

56-‐61
on
the
organization
of
Ruricius’
collection.

144

On
the
repair
of
Roman
roads,
see
Laurence,
“Milestones,
Communications,
and

Political
Stability,”

41-‐57
in
Ellis
and
Kidner,
Travel.
He
argues
that
maintenance
of

the
road
network
and
the
addition
of
new
milestones
was
a
political
act
designed
to

glorify
the
authority
who
undertook
the
task,
but
he
does
not
pursue
the
line
of

inquiry
up
to
this
period
in
Gaul
(though
he
does
so
for
Italy).

98

of
Arles,
Marseille,
the
Auvergne,
and
parts
of
the
Iberian
Peninsula.
145

These

campaigns
consisted
of
wars
against
the
empire
itself
and
against
the
Burgundians,

who
served
as
federate
troops
and
helped
defend
the
Auvergne
against
Euric’s

incursions.
146

Visigothic
expansion
into
the
Auvergne
between
471
and
475
affected

Sidonius
personally,
and
had
a
direct
effect
on
the
geographic
scope
of
his

correspondence.
Sidonius
was
one
of
the
leaders
of
the
Gallo-‐Roman
resistance
to

the
Gothic
incursions,
though
the
defenders
were
aided
by
Burgundian
troops,
147

and
the
bishop
was
profoundly
unhappy
with
the
situation:
“So
we
are
set
in
the

midst
of
two
rival
peoples
and
are
become
the
pitiable
prey
of
both;
suspected
by

the
Burgundians,
and
next
neighbors
of
the
Goths,
we
are
spared
neither
the
fury
of

our
invaders
nor
the
malignity
of
our
protectors.”
148

The
bishop’s
best
efforts
were

in
vain,
however,
and
an
envoy
of
the
emperor
Julius
Nepos
ceded
the
Auvergne
to

145

See
Herwig
Wolfram,
History
of
the
Goths,
tr.
Thomas
J.
Dunlap,
Berkeley
and
Los

Angeles:
University
of
California
Press,
1988,

181-‐9;
Michael
Kulikowski,
Late

Roman
Spain
and
its
Cities
(Baltimore:
Johns
Hopkins
University
Press,
2004),
204,

who
stresses
the
opportunism
of
Euric,
rather
than
any
deep-‐seated
anti-‐imperial

sentiments;
and
Jill
Harries,
“Sidonius
Apollinaris
and
the
Frontiers
of
Romanitas,”

31-‐4
in
Ralph
Mathisen
and
Hagith
Sivan
(eds.),
Shifting
Frontiers
in
Late
Antiquity:

Papers
from
the
First
Interdisciplinary
Conference
on
Late
Antiquity,
the
University
of

Kansas,
1995,
Aldershot:
Ashgate,
1996.

146

See
Sidonius
3.4
on
the
presence
of
Burgundian
troops,
though
he
was
far
from

happy
with
the
situation.

147

Wolfram,
Goths,

184-‐88,
with
a
more
lucid
account
in
Harries,
“Frontiers
of

Romanitas,”

32-‐3.
Wolfram’s
narrative
is
interspersed
with
bizarre
comments
about

the
“Celtic”
loyalties
of
Sidonius
and
his
fellow
aristocrats,
an
identification
with

which
the
hyper-‐Roman
bishop
would
certainly
disagree.

148

Sidonius
3.4.1.

99

Visigothic
control
in
475.
149

Sidonius
was
then
banished,
first
to
a
fortress
near

Carcassonne
and
later
to
Bordeaux,
before
returning
to
his
see
around
477.

Almost
all
of
Sidonius’
messages
to
contacts
in
the
Visigothic
kingdom
took

place
after
the
Auvergne
was
ceded
to
Euric.
All
of
Sidonius’
extant
letters
to

contacts
in
Bordeaux,
Perigueux,
Rodez,
and
Saintes
(all
located
within
the

Visigothic
kingdom)
seem
to
have
been
written
after
475.
The
only
exceptions
are

two
letters
to
Magnus
Felix
of
Narbonne,
an
important
figure
within
the
Visigothic

court
whom
Sidonius
beseeched
to
help
end
the
conflict
in
the
Auvergne.
These

letters
never
seem
to
have
been
answered.
150

Conversely,
the
majority
of
his
letters

to
Lyon
and
Vienne,
which
were
within
the
Burgundian
kingdom,
were
written

before
the
conquest
of
Clermont.
Six
of
the
eight
letters
to
correspondents
in
Lyon

that
can
be
dated
were
sent
before
475,
as
was
one
of
the
letters
to
Vienne,
and

Sidonius’
last
recorded
visit
to
the
latter
city
seems
to
have
taken
place
in
474.
151

After
the
Auvergne
became
part
of
the
Visigothic
kingdom,
then,
old
borders
were

removed
(between
Roman
and
Visigothic
territory)
and
new
borders
appeared

(between
Visigothic
and
Burgundian
territory),
though
they
were
still
semi-‐

149

Ibid.

150

The
one
letter
that
can
securely
be
dated
before
475
was
4.15,
to
Elaphius;

Bordeaux:
8.9
(to
Lampridius),
8.12
(to
Trygetius
in
Bazas,
just
outside
Bordeaux);

Saintes:
8.6
(to
Namatius);
Perigueux:
8.11
(to
Lupus
the
rhetor).
His
letters
to
Arles,

by
then
a
part
of
the
Visigothic
kingdom,
also
seem
to
fall
after
475.
This
leaves
his

three
letters
to
Ruricius,
which
could
be
dated
to
any
time
after
469,
but
there
is
no

internal
evidence
by
which
the
letters
can
be
dated
more
precisely;
any
attempt
is

fundamentally
guesswork.
See
Harries,
Sidonius,

177-‐9
for
discussion
of
the
letters

–
3.4
and
3.7,
between
470
and
475,
and
4.10,
dated
to
after
477
–
to
Felix;
he

cannot
be
firmly
located
in
Narbonne
at
this
time,
for
what
that
is
worth.

151

Letters
to
Lyon
after
475:
7.18
and
8.16,
both
to
Constantius
of
Lyon.
Letters
to

Vienne
after
475
(and
is
an
extremely
tentative
dating):
4.3,
to
Claudianus.
Visit
to

Vienne:
5.6.
His
letter
to
Riothamus
(4.17),
the
former
king
of
the
Britons
who
was

staying
in
the
Burgundian
kingdom,
was
likely
written
before
475
as
well.

100

permeable.
When
viewed
in
a
chronological
framework,
Sidonius’
correspondence

shows
changes
in
the
geographic
distribution
of
the
letters
that
clearly
correlate
to

political
events.

The
second
development
was
the
expansion
of
the
Franks
in
northern
Gaul

and
the
continuous
warfare
that
afflicted
this
poorly
documented
region.
Franks

fought
Romans,
Goths
fought
Franks,
and
Saxons
attacked
the
cities
along
the

Atlantic
coast,
while
aristocrats
and
bishops
were
caught
in
the
middle.
The
sources

consistently
give
an
overriding
impression
of
chaos
and
disorder,
with
a
great
deal

of
fighting
between
rival
military
leaders.
152

At
the
same
time,
the
expansion
of
the

Visigothic
kingdom
during
Euric’s
reign
(r.
466-‐484)
pushed
its
borders
north
to
the

Loire,
including
Tours
and
Orleans.
Given
the
Frankish
domination
of
the
Loire

Basin,
which
became
clearer
over
the
course
of
the
480s,
and
the
increasingly
tense

relationship
between
the
Visigoths
and
the
Franks,
it
would
be
logical
to
assume

that
the
border
became
harder
during
this
period.
153

When
northern
Gaul
was
still

chaotic,
whether
Sidonius
was
living
in
a
still-‐Roman-‐controlled
Clermont
or
the

152

See
fundamentally
Edward
James,
The
Franks
(Oxford:
Blackwell,
1988),
64-‐71;

Halsall,
Barbarian
Migrations,

269-‐70;
and
Guy
Halsall,
“Childeric’s
Grave,
Clovis’

Succession,
and
the
Origins
of
the
Merovingian
Kingdom,”
in
Mathisen
and
Shanzer

(eds.),
116-‐133.
These
rival
leaders
included
Childeric,
king
of
the
Franks,
the

Roman
magister
militum
Aegidius
and
his
son
Syagrius,
and
the
Roman
comes
Paul,

while
even
the
Alamanni,
who
were
probably
based
around
Cologne,
were
drawn
as

far
west
as
Troyes.
See
Halsall,
Barbarian
Invasions,
269-‐271
and
301-‐2,
with

Halsall,
“Childeric’s
Grave.”
For
a
less
political
and
military
take
on
northern
Gaul

during
this
time,
see
Lisa
Bitel,
Landscape
with
Two
Saints:
How
Genofeva
of
Paris

and
Brigit
of
Kildare
Built
Christianity
in
Barbarian
Europe
(Oxford:
Oxford

University
Press,
2009),
65-‐8,
70,
and
76-‐7.

153

See
ibid,
Wolfram,
184-‐201,
and
Ralph
W.
Mathisen,
“The
First
Franco-‐Visigothic

War
and
the
Prelude
to
the
Battle
of
Vouille,”
in
Ralph
W.
Mathisen
and
Danuta

Shanzer
(eds.),
The
Battle
of
Vouille,
507
CE:
Where
France
Began
(Boston:
De

Gruyter,
2012),
3-‐9.

101

Visigothic
kingdom,
there
was
no
political
barrier
to
communication.
By
the
time

Ruricius
was
writing,
however,
the
Franks
had
become
a
hostile
kingdom

encompassing
precisely
those
areas
of
northern
Gaul
where
Sidonius
had

contacts.
154

Ruricius’
networks
display
unambiguously
the
cumulative
repercussions
of

two
decades
of
warfare
and
political
maneuvering,
but
the
first
stages
are
clearly

presaged
in
the
transformations
of
Sidonius’
contacts
over
time.
Even
if
they
initially

affected
Sidonius
as
an
individual,
their
effects
had
become
general
when
Ruricius

wrote
the
bulk
of
his
letters.
By
Ruricius’
time,
the
boundaries
that
sprang
up
over

the
course
of
Sidonius’
life
had
solidified.
The
Visigothic-‐Burgundian
border,
semi-‐
permeable
after
the
conquest
of
the
Auvergne,
had
hardened,
at
least
for
Ruricius.

Apollinaris,
the
son
of
Sidonius,
corresponded
with
Bishop
Avitus
of
Vienne,
but
this

may
have
contributed
to
his
troubles
with
the
Visigothic
authorities.
Avitus
was
an

important
man,
an
advisor
of
the
Burgundian
King
Gundobad
and
a
key
figure
in

ecclesiastical
politics
during
the
first
two
decades
of
the
sixth
century,
which

explains
the
relative
ease
with
which
his
letters
crossed
the
border.
155

Suspicion
was
in
the
air
during
Ruricius’
time
on
both
sides
of
the
border.

Bishops
were
routinely
exiled
from
their
sees
for
suspected
treason:
Aprunculus
of

Langres
was
exiled
by
the
Burgundians,
while
Simplicius,
Crocus
(possibly
bishop
of

154

Aristocratic
flight
from
northern
Gaul
had
been
going
on
for
most
of
the
fifth

century,
but
may
have
accelerated
during
the
460s
and
470s:
see
Ralph
Whitney

Mathisen,
Roman
Aristocrats
in
Barbarian
Gaul:
Strategies
for
Survival
in
an
Age
of

Transition
(Austin:
University
of
Texas
Press,
1993),
58-‐66.

155

Avitus
Epistulae
24,
which
dates
after
the
Frankish
conquest
of
Aquitania,
36,
51,

and
52.
Additionally,
Ruricius
had
spent
his
entire
life
in
the
Visigothic
kingdom,

while
Apollinaris
presumably
remembered
the
time
before
the
Visigothic
conquest

of
the
Auvergne;
perhaps
this
had
something
to
do
with
his
willingness
to
write.

102

Nimes),
Faustus
of
Riez
(a
correspondent
of
both
Sidonius
and
Ruricius),
the
famous

Caesarius
of
Arles,
and
of
course
Sidonius
were
all
banished
by
the
Visigoths.
156

Sidonius
aptly
described
the
suspicion
in
a
letter
to
Faustus
written
soon
after
the

Visigothic
takeover
of
the
Auvergne:
“I
think
it
is
the
wisest
and
safest
course,

especially
between
our
two
cities
far
separated
as
they
are…to
renounce
our
rather

too
busy
pens,
putting
off
for
a
little
our
diligent
exchange
of
letters,
and
concerning

ourselves
with
silence.”
157

Ruricius
himself
made
veiled
threats
to
Bishop

Volusianus
of
Tours,
who
was
actually
exiled,
in
response
to
the
maltreatment
of
his

letter-‐carriers.
158

Even
though
letters
could
be
sent
across
the
border,
it
behooved
a
prudent

bishop
like
Ruricius
to
avoid
suspicion
and
accusations
of
treason.
159

Having
spent

his
entire
adult
life
living
there
(unlike
Apollinaris),
Ruricius
had
internalized
the

boundaries
of
the
Visigothic
kingdom:
This
was
the
geographic
space
within
which

he
operated,
and
while
his
letters
might
go
up
to
the
border,
they
never
crossed.
160

Two
decades
of
warfare
and
political
maneuvering
created
a
climate
of
suspicion

that
made
it
difficult
to
communicate
across
boundaries.
These
political
changes
had

a
more
direct
effect
on
communications,
however,
through
the
restrictions
they

placed
on
the
letter-‐carriers.
Sidonius
mentioned
this
in
a
letter
written
after
his

exile
and
return
in
477,
and
it
is
worth
quoting
at
length.

156

Simplicius
and
Crocus:
Sidonius
7.6;
Aprunculus:
Harries,
“Frontiers
of

Romanitas,”
34;
Faustus:
Ruricius
1.1-‐2,
Sidonius
9.3;
Caesarius:
Klingshirn,
93-‐7.

157

Sidonius
9.3.1.

158

Ruricius
2.64.

159

Shanzer
and
Wood,
Avitus;
see
letters
24,
36,
43,
51,
and
52,
all
to
Apollinaris,

Sidonius’s
son.

160

Ruricius
2.64.

103

[A]
courier
can
by
no
means
pass
the
guards
of
the
public
highroads
without

strict
scrutiny:
he
may
indeed
incur
no
danger,
being
free
from
guilt,
but
he

usually
experiences
a
great
deal
of
difficulty,
as
the
watchful
searcher
pries

into
every
secret
of
the
letter-‐carriers,
and
if
their
answers
to
his
questions

should
happen
to
show
the
least
nervousness,
they
are
believed
to
carry

verbally
in
their
heads
the
messages
not
committed
to
writing;
thus
the
man

sent
often
suffers
ill-‐treatment
and
the
sender
acquires
an
ill
name,
more

particularly
in
these
days
when
the
established
treaties
of
kingdoms
long

jealous
of
one
another
are
made
unstable
by
fresh
conditions
tending
to

produce
discord.
161

The
climate
of
suspicion
took
concrete
form:
public
roads
were
guarded,

letters
were
read,
and
their
carriers
interrogated.
Any
sign
of
suspicious
activity
was

enough
to
stain
both
the
bearer
and
the
author.
Sidonius
recognized
this
and
was

prudent
enough
to
change
his
epistolary
habits
accordingly.
162

While
Sidonius

experienced
these
changes
over
the
course
of
his
life,
Ruricius
knew
no
other
world.

His
letters
were
always
circumspect,
and
their
allusions
to
political
events
(few
as

they
are)
were
vague:
he
blamed
the
times
on
one
occasion,
and
made
an
opaque

reference
to
“enemies”
in
another,
but
never
wrote
anything
more
explicit.
163

Ruricius
was
not
a
statesman
in
the
mould
of
his
kinsmen
Sidonius
and
Avitus
of

Vienne,
and
this
partially
explains
the
lack
of
references
to
political
events.
164

On
the

other
hand,
however,
Ruricius
spent
his
life
surrounded
by
people
such
as
Sidonius,

Faustus
of
Riez,
and
Caesarius
of
Arles
who
had
experienced
firsthand
the
negative

consequences
of
political
involvement.
Playing
politics
was
a
losing
game
for
Gallo-‐

161

Sidonius
9.3.2-‐3.

162

See
Sidonius
5.6,
to
his
kinsman
Apollinaris,
in
which
he
warns
about
the
dangers

of
political
maneuvering
and
offers
to
help
secure
a
pardon,
and
9.5,
to
an

unidentified
Bishop
Julianus,
in
which
he
expresses
hope
that
the
peace
treaty

between
Julius
Nepos
and
Euric
will
allow
for
better
communications
between

residents
of
different
kingdoms.

163

The
times:
1.12,
to
Celsus;
enemies:
2.8,
to
Aeonius
of
Arles.
See
also
2.52,
to

Stephanus,
for
a
similar
sentiment.

164

Mathisen,
Ruricius,
40.

104

Roman
aristocrats
in
the
closing
decades
of
the
fifth
century,
at
least
those
with

whom
Ruricius
was
acquainted,
and
he
may
have
avoided
it
for
that
reason.
165

This
chapter
previously
touched
on
the
personal
mobility
of
Sidonius,
and
it

is
worth
reflecting
on
how
the
new
state
of
affairs
that
prevailed
after
his
lifetime

changed
that.
166

He
traveled
to
Lyon
and
Vienne
regularly
in
the
early
470s,
went
to

Bourges
for
the
election
of
the
metropolitan
bishop
in
470,
had
spent
time
in

Toulouse
in
the
early
460s,
was
in
Nimes
at
some
point
in
the
same
decade,
and
had

been
to
Rome
on
two
separate
occasions
in
the
450s
and
460s.
167

Although
it
was

not
by
choice,
Sidonius
spent
a
chunk
of
time
in
Bordeaux
in
exile.
168

The
effect
of
all

of
these
sojourns
was
to
keep
Sidonius
in
contact
with
a
wide
variety
of
people
in
a

number
of
different
places,
and
when
it
became
increasingly
more
difficult
to
travel,

so
too
did
the
opportunities
for
contacts
become
restricted.
After
his
exile
in

Bordeaux,
for
example,
Sidonius
strongly
implied
that
he
needed
some
kind
of

official
permission
to
travel
south,
presumably
still
within
the
boundaries
of
the

Visigothic
Kingdom.
He
wrote
to
Magnus
Felix
of
Narbonne,
who
had
been
out
of

contact
with
him
for
many
years:
“If…my
patron
on
his
return
will
only
sanction
my

165

As
John
Matthews,
Western
Aristocracies
and
Imperial
Court,
A.D.
364-‐425

(Oxford:
Clarendon
Press,
1975),
points
out,
this
had
been
true
even
in
the
first

quarter
of
the
century:
“Violence
and
insecurity,
then,
were
part
of
the
experience
of

the
politically
active
among
the
Gallic
upper
classes,”
324.

166

As
noted
but
not
explored
in
depth
by
Mathisen,
Roman
Aristocrats,
29;
see
also

Courtenay
E.
Stevens,
Sidonius
Apollinaris
and
His
Age
(Oxford:
Clarendon
Press,

1933),
77.

167

Lyon
and
Vienne:
5.17
and
7.15;
Bourges:
7.5
and
7.9;
Toulouse:
1.2;
Nimes:

Sidonius
2.9,
possibly
en
route
to
Rome
for
his
service
as
praefectus
urbi;
Rome:
see

Harries,
Sidonius,
67
and
140-‐66.

168

Sidonius
8.9
and
8.12.

105

departure,
how
eagerly
will
I
fly
to
meet
you
wherever
you
may
be,
and
revive
by

my
presence
a
friendship
which
my
negligent
pen
has
left
to
languish.”
169

Like
Sidonius,
many
Gallic
aristocrats
of
the
fifth
century
traveled
to
Italy,
to

take
up
imperial
office
or
to
conduct
official
business
in
both
secular
and

ecclesiastical
capacities.
These
contacts
grew
less
frequent
over
the
course
of
the

century,
however,
and
the
470s
saw
the
end
of
Gallic
office-‐holding
in
Italy.
170

The

Gallic
aristocracy
had
been
growing
less
interested
in
what
was
happening
at
the

imperial
center
over
the
course
of
the
entire
fifth
century,
youths
stopped
traveling

there
for
education,
and
there
is
no
evidence
that
they
traveled
the
long
distances
to

Italy
for
the
sake
of
pleasure.
171

These
were
long-‐term
processes,
to
be
sure,
but
the

events
of
the
470s
accelerated
and
put
a
final
capstone
on
them.

If
Sidonius
represented
the
waning
possibilities
of
these
Gallic
aristocrats,

Ruricius
encapsulated
the
new
state
of
affairs.
It
is
important
to
note
that
a
distaste

for
long-‐distance
travel
and
even
for
office-‐holding
or
partaking
in
official
business

were
essential
pieces
of
the
late
antique
aristocratic
ethos.
Otium,
the
pursuit
of
the

literary
output
and
other
pleasures
that
demarcated
aristocrats
as
a
social
group,

demanded
that
any
such
participation
in
business
affairs
that
took
the
man
away

from
studied
leisure
be
treated
with
measured
disdain.
172

Travel
was
one
of
these

169

Sidonius
4.10.
For
Roman
controls
on
mobility
in
general,
see
Claudia
Moatti,
“Le

contrôle
de
la
mobilité
des
personnes
dans
l'Empire
romain,”
Mélanges
de
l'école

française
de
Rome
112
(2000),
925-‐958.

170

Mathisen,
Roman
Aristocrats,
20-‐1,
and
Matthews,
Western
Aristocracies,
1-‐12

and
320-‐1.

171

Mathisen,
Roman
Aristocrats,
20-‐3.

172

On
which
see
Salzman,
“Travel
and
Communication,”
85-‐92,
and
Matthews,

Western
Aristocracies,
9-‐12.
On
otium
in
the
context
of
the
Late
Republic,
see
Sarah

Culpepper
Stroup,
Catullus,
Cicero,
and
a
Society
of
Patrons:
The
Generation
of
the

106

things.
The
country
villa
was
an
aristocrat’s
refuge,
and
sojourns
were
not
to
be

undertaken
lightly,
at
least
not
without
making
the
proper
lamentations
about
the

difficulty
of
rousing
oneself
from
the
pursuit
of
otium.
173

Ruricius
was
more
of
a
homebody
than
the
comparatively
–
by
the
standards

of
later
fifth-‐century
Gallic
aristocrats
–
peripatetic
Sidonius,
and
seems
to
have

genuinely
disliked
travel,
but
his
opportunities
were
also
drastically
more
limited

than
his
cousin’s.
174

Although
he
spent
much
of
his
time
at
his
country
villa
near

Dégagnac,
went
to
Clermont
on
several
occasions,
stayed
in
Bordeaux,
and
had
been

to
Arles,
long-‐distance
travel
to
northern
Gaul,
the
Burgundian
kingdom,
and
Italy

was
simply
not
possible
for
Ruricius
in
the
same
way
it
had
been
for
Sidonius.
175

By

the
time
Ruricius
came
of
age
in
the
470s,
the
opportunities
for
imperial
offices
in

Italy
were
gone,
the
imperial
presence
in
Gaul
had
dwindled
into
nonexistence,
and

the
hardening
of
borders
was
in
full
swing.
Unlike
Sidonius,
Ruricius
never
had
the

opportunity
to
make
contacts
beyond
the
Visigothic
Kingdom.
176

A
slightly
later
contemporary
of
Ruricius
provides
additional
insight
into
the

hardening
of
borders,
both
physical
and
cultural.
Although
traditionally
counted

among
the
Gallo-‐Roman
epistolographers
of
the
late
fifth
and
early
sixth
centuries,
it

Text
(Cambridge:
Cambridge
University
Press,
2010),
37-‐65.
The
topic
of
otium
is

frankly
too
big
to
discuss
in
depth.

173

Javier
Arce,
“Otium
et
negotium:
the
great
estates,
4
th
-‐7
th

century,”
in
Leslie

Webster
and
Michele
Brown
(eds.),
The
Transformation
of
the
Roman
World
AD
400-‐
900
(Berkeley
and
Los
Angeles:
University
of
California
Press,
1997),
19-‐32;

Salzman,
“Travel
and
Communication,”
86-‐8.

174

As
with
Ruricius’
refusal
to
travel
to
the
Council
of
Agde
in
506
despite
explicit

instructions
from
Caesarius
of
Arles:
See
Caesarius,
Dum
nimium,
and
Ruricius
2.33.

175

Clermont:
2.26,
in
which
he
mentions
just
having
seen
Apollinaris;
Bordeaux:

2.33;
Arles:
2.9.
See
Mathisen,
Ruricius,
30,
for
the
quote
and
a
discussion
of

Ruricius’
travel
habits.

176

Mathisen,
Roman
Aristocrats,
20-‐23.

107

is
important
to
note
that
Magnus
Felix
Ennodius,
the
bishop
of
Pavia,
was
a
near-‐
lifelong
resident
of
Liguria.
While
he
was
born
in
Arles,
he
moved
to
northern
Italy

in
early
childhood
following
the
death
of
his
parents,
and
his
upbringing
and
outlook

on
the
world
reflected
that
Ligurian
context
far
more
than
the
Gaul
of
his
youth.
He

had
been
raised
there,
educated
there,
and
his
social
and
professional
circles
were

essentially
Italian.
177

Ennodius
was
related
to
Sidonius,
Ruricius,
and
Avitus
of

Vienne,
though
the
exact
degree
of
that
relationship
is
unclear.
178

What
is
clear
is

that
Ennodius
had
numerous
contacts
in
Gaul,
many
of
them
family,
and
that
he
was

able
to
tap
into
the
connectivity
between
Provence
and
northern
Italy.
179

Ennodius
had
several
different
contacts
in
Gaul,
almost
all
of
the
identifiable

ones
residents
of
Arles,
with
whom
he
corresponded
on
multiple
occasions.
180

His

sister
Euprepia,
to
whom
he
wrote
eight
letters,
remained
a
resident
of
the
city,
and

177

I
follow
here
the
compelling
argument
of
Arnold,
Theoderic,
11-‐13:
“Still,
though

well
aware
of
his
origins
and
on
intimate
terms
with
certain
Gallic
individuals,

Ennodius
was
not
a
Gallo-‐Roman.”
(12).
For
Ennodius’s
inclusion
among
the
Gallo-‐
Roman
epistolographers,
see
e.g.
Ralph
W.
Mathisen,
“Epistolography,
Literary

Circles,
and
Family
Ties
in
Late
Roman
Gaul,”
Transactions
of
the
American

Philological
Association
111
(1981),
95-‐109.
See
also
Kennell,
Magnus
Felix

Ennodius,
5-‐18
for
Ennodius’s
early
life
and
the
formation
of
his
outlook.

178

Mathisen,
“Epistolography,”
passim.

179

Note,
for
example,
the
re-‐fortification
of
the
Alps
at
the
end
of
the
fifth
and

beginning
of
the
sixth
centuries:
see
Neil
Christie,
“The
Alps
as
a
Frontier
(AD
168-‐
774),”
Journal
of
Roman
Archaeology
4
(1991),
410-‐30,
and
G.P.
Brogiolo
and
E.

Possenti,
“L’età
gota
in
Italia
settentrionale,
nella
transizione
tra
tarda
antichità
e

alto
medioevo,”
in
Paolo
Delogu
and
Soveria
Mannelli
(eds.),
Le
invasioni
barbariche

nel
meridione
dell’impero:
Visigoti,
Vandali,
Ostrogoti:
atti
del
convegno
svoltosi
alla

Casa
delle
culture
di
Cosenza
dal
24
al
26
luglio
1998,
(Rubbettino,
2001),
257-‐96.

180

He
did
correspond
with
Laconius,
consiliarius
of
the
Burgundian
King
Gundobad,

who
seems
to
have
been
a
resident
of
Vienne
or
Lyon:
2.5,
3.16,
and
5.24.
See
PLRE

II,
“Laconius,”
p.
653,
which
suggests
that
Ennodius
met
Laconius
during
his
trip
to

Burgundian
territory
c.
494
to
negotiate
the
release
of
prisoners
with
Bishop

Epiphanius.
He
also
corresponded
with
Bishop
Stephanus
of
Lyon
(3.17).

108

she
sent
her
son
Lupicinus
to
Ennodius
in
Liguria
for
his
education.
181

Otherwise,
he

corresponded
with
some
of
the
city’s
most
eloquent
and
accomplished
literati,

including
the
renowned
teacher
of
rhetoric
Julianus
Pomerius
and
Firminus.
182

An

Apollinaris,
another
relative
(though
not
the
son
of
Sidonius
nor
the
correspondents

of
the
bishop
of
Clermont),
received
several
letters,
though
his
precise
location
in

Gaul
is
unknown.
183

Ennodius
is
known
to
have
made
two
trips
through
the
Alps
to

Gaul,
one
to
Briançon
–
an
experience
that
he
in
no
way
enjoyed
–
and
the
other
to

Vienne
or
Lyon
in
the
Burgundian
Kingdom
to
negotiate
the
release
of
prisoners

with
Bishop
Epiphanius
of
Pavia
around
494.
184

The
vast
majority
of
Ennodius’
correspondence,
however,
dealt
with
affairs

in
Italy,
particularly
Liguria,
and
Ravenna
more
specifically.
185

He
was
a
well-‐
connected
man,
and
counted
among
his
many
correspondents
the
consul
and

magister
officiorum
Faustus
Niger,
one
of
the
most
important
men
in
the
Ostrogothic

Kingdom.
186

Ennodius
belonged
to
that
Northern
Italian
context,
not
the
world
of

181

Ennodius
to
Euprepia:
2.15,
3.14-‐15,
3.28,
5.7,
6.3,
and
7.8.
She
is
also
mentioned

in
2.23
and
7.14.
See
PLRE
II,
Euprepia,

426-‐7.

182

Pomerius:
2.6.
Firminus:
1.8
and
2.7.

183

2.8,
3.13,
and
4.19.
He
was
almost
certainly
a
resident
of
Provence,
however.

184

On
the
trip
from
Briancon,
see
Ennodius,
Itinerarium
Brigantionis
Castelli,
in

Friedrich
M.
Vogel
(ed.),
Magni
Felicis
Enodii
Opera,
MGH,
AA
7,
(Berlin:
Weidmann,

1885).
On
the
trip
to
Lyon,
see
Ennodius,
Vita
Epiphanii,
168-‐70,
also
in
Vogel’s

edition,
and
Sister
Genevieve
Marie
Cook
(tr.),
The
Life
of
Saint
Epiphanius
by

Ennodius:
a
Translation
with
an
Introduction
and
Commentary
(Washington:
The

Catholic
University
of
America
Press,
1942).

185

The
most
frequent
destinations
for
Ennodius’s
correspondence
were
first
and

foremost
Ravenna,
second
Rome,
and
Milan
third.
All
other
locations
pale
in

comparison
to
the
volume
of
correspondence
those
three
cities
received.
On
Liguria

as
Ennodius’s
home
and
sphere
of
operation,
see
Arnold,
Theoderic,
11-‐15,
and
Ch.
7.

186

On
Faustus,
see
PLRE
II
Faustus
9,
454-‐6.
He
was
a
friend,
patron,
and
surrogate

father
figure
to
Ennodius,
and
received
many
letters:
e.g.
1.5,
1.14,
1.20,
2.10,
3.20-‐
22,
and
so
on.

109

the
Gallo-‐Roman
epistolographers,
except
peripherally.
His
correspondence
to

recipients
in
Gaul
either
went
to
relatives
or
literati
in
the
city
and
region
of
his

birth,
Arles
and
Provence,
or
to
people
whom
he
had
presumably
met
during
his

lone
trip
to
the
Burgundian
Kingdom
in
494.
187

Ennodius
did
not
have
widespread

networks
in
Gaul,
and
his
contacts
did
not
reach
beyond
places
that
he
had
himself

visited
or
in
which
he
still
had
close
relatives.

For
Ennodius,
the
boundary
between
Gaul
–
Provence,
in
particular
–
and

northern
Italy
was
not
closed.
188

Communication
between
different
kingdoms

remained
possible,
travel
did
not
entirely
shut
down,
and
it
remained
possible
that

for
distantly
connected
people
to
maintain
their
relationships.
It
simply
became

much
harder
for
them
to
do
so,
particularly
after
the
sharp,
short
war
between
the

Burgundians
and
Ostrogoths
in
508.
189

In
Avitus’
case,
several
of
his
letters
can
be

187

E.g.
9.33
to
Bishop
Caesarius
of
Arles,
the
aforementioned
correspondence
with

his
sister
Euprepia
(2.15,
3.14-‐15,
3.28,
5.7,
6.3,
7.8),
his
relative
Apollinaris
(2.8,

3.13,
4.19),
and
other
literati
of
the
city.
For
Lyon,
his
correspondents
were
Laconius

(2.5,
3.16,
and
5.24)
and
Bishop
Stephanus
(3.17).

188

Unlike
the
case
RE
Sidonius
and
Ruricius,
neither
of
whom
sent
any
letters
from

Gaul
to
recipients
in
Italy.
Sidonius’s
letters
during
his
time
as
praefectus
urbi,

several
of
which
he
seems
to
have
sent
from
Rome
to
Gaul
(1.1,
1.3-‐6,
1.8-‐10)
and
to

a
recipient
in
Ravenna
(1.8)
are
an
obvious
exception.
Mathisen,
Roman
Aristocrats,

24,
points
out
that
Ruricius
was
a
relative
of
the
blue-‐blooded
Italian
Anicii,
yet
he

still
did
not
cultivate
that
connection.

189

See
Mathisen,
Roman
Aristocrats,
24
with
n.
69.
Mathisen
draws
a
hard

distinction
between
Sidonius
and
Ruricius
on
the
one
hand
and
the
later
Ennodius

and
Avitus
on
the
other,
arguing
that
the
Ostrogothic
annexation
of
Provence
after

508
enabled
Ennodius’s
correspondence
with
Gauls
and
Avitus’s
with
recipients
in

Italy,
while
this
lack
of
connection
inhibited
Ruricius
and
Sidonius.
This
simply
does

not
hold
up
to
scrutiny.
Ennodius’s
letters
to
Laconius
(2.5
and
3.16),
a
consilarius
of

the
Burgundian
king
resident
in
Lyon
or
Vienne,
can
be
dated
to
503,
prior
to
the

annexation,
nor
is
there
any
particularly
good
reason
to
date
the
rest
of
the
letters
to

Arles
or
Provence
after
508.
The
Burgundians
and
the
Ostrogoths
were
at
war

following
the
Battle
of
Vouille,
and
it
is
hard
to
see
how
open
conflict
would
have

enabled
communication
between
Ennodius
and
a
consilarius
to
the
Burgundian
king.

110

dated
to
Italian
recipients
can
be
dated
to
before
this
conflict,
and
essentially
all
of

them
fall
under
the
category
of
official
communications
in
his
capacity
as
bishop,

requesting
or
providing
information
about
various
theological
disputes
or
the

like.
190

There
were
precious
few
personal
contacts
between
Avitus
and
Italian

correspondents,
none
of
them
of
the
personal
kind
that
dominate
the
corpora
of

Sidonius,
Ruricius,
and
Ennodius.
In
terms
of
Avitus’
correspondence
with
contacts

in
other
kingdoms
inside
Gaul,
he
expressed
a
great
deal
of
reticence
about
writing

to
his
cousin
Apollinaris,
the
son
of
Sidonius,
and
an
acute
awareness
of
the

potential
dangers
in
crossing
borders
and
thereby
drawing
unwanted
attention

from
the
authorities.
191

The
personal
disconnection
of
the
Gallic
aristocracy
from
its
Italian

counterparts
was
a
long
and
ongoing
process.
It
is
not
surprising
that
it
was

meetings
during
their
travels,
rather
than
longstanding
familial
relationships,
that

created
the
very
few
connections
between
Gallic
and
Italian
writers
in
the
works
of

these
three
authors.
192

There
is
little
indication
prior
to
Sidonius’
lifetime,
however,

that
there
were
any
real
difficulties
in
communicating
within
Gaul.
The
imposition
of

new
borders
and
boundaries
between
kingdoms,
and
the
accompanying
climate
of

political
distrust
and
uncertainty,
drastically
inhibited
the
ability
of
authors
to
send

190

Avitus
10,
to
Bishop
Eustorgius
of
Milan,
deals
with
the
ransoming
of
captives,
as

does
12,
to
Bishop
Maximus
of
Pavia;
Avitus
39
and
40
touch
on
theological

disputes,
while
38,
the
lone
exception,
is
a
request
for
medical
services.
His

correspondence
with
Rome
went
exclusively
to
the
pope.
On
this
incident
of

ransoming,
see
Pauline
Allen
and
Bronwen
Neil,
Crisis
Management
in
Late

Antiquity:
A
Survey
of
the
Evidence
from
Episcopal
Letters
(410-‐590
CE)
(Leiden:
Brill,

2013),
40-‐2.

191

Avitus
51
and
52
on
Apollinaris’s
political
difficulties.

192

On
the
roots
of
that
dislocation
see
Mathisen,
Roman
Aristocrats,
24-‐6,
and

fundamentally
Matthews,
Western
Aristocracies,
320-‐8.

111

their
letters
across
those
newborn
barriers.
The
four
authors
examined
here
–

Sidonius,
Ruricius,
Ennodius,
and
Avitus
–
all
display
clearly
the
effects
of
the
drastic

political
shifts
that
took
place
in
the
470s.
The
dislocation
of
the
Gallic
aristocracy

from
Italy
earlier
in
the
fifth
century
prefigured
its
eventual
fracturing
as
a
social

group
in
the
later
fifth
and
early
sixth.
193

Once
those
connections
were
broken,
they

did
not
reappear,
and
when
communications
between
aristocrats
were
disrupted,
so

too
were
patronage
and
intellectual
culture,
since
patronage
and
literary
products

were
transmitted
along
the
very
same
networks.
194

If
one
of
Ruricius’
priests

wanted
to
move
to
Soissons,
it
was
much
more
difficult
than
it
would
have
been
for

Sidonius,
who
simply
wrote
a
letter
of
recommendation
to
his
friend
Principius.
195

Ruricius
could
not
send
his
letters
to
a
skilled
editor
in
Lyon
or
read
Remigius
of

Reims’
newest
work.
196

Once
those
connections
were
lost,
they
could
not
easily
be

reestablished
as
kinsmen
died,
moved
away,
or
were
otherwise
caught
up
in
the

tumultuous
times.
197

193

Mathisen,
Ruricius,
33
refers
to
a
“regionalization”
of
the
Gallic
aristocracy.

194

Recommendations:
Sidonius
2.4,
3.10,
4.4,
6.4,
6.8,
6.10-‐11,
7.11,
7.13,
9.10,

Ruricius
2.7,
2.12,
2.36,
2.56.
Letters
dealing
with
literary
topics
are
too
numerous

to
list,
but
examples
include
Ruricius
1.4-‐7
and
2.19,
Sidonius
4.16
and
5.15
(both
to

Ruricius).

195

Sidonius
8.14
is
a
reply
to
a
letter
of
recommendation
from
Bishop
Principius
of

Soissons.

196

Sidonius
1.1
to
Constantius
of
Lyon
and
Sidonius
9.7
to
Remigius.

197

Mathisen,
“Emigrants.”

112

Chapter
3:
Kings,
Bishops,
and
Official
Letters

The
last
chapter
argued
that
political
instability
and
the
formation
of
new

borders
drastically
inhibited
authors’
ability
to
send
letters,
a
process
that
is
visible

in
the
sources
and
gradually
became
more
apparent
over
the
late
fifth
and
early

sixth
centuries.
With
a
few
exceptions,
however,
those
authors
were
all
utilizing

their
private
resources
and
networks
to
send
their
correspondence.
1

In
contrast
to

those
personal
letters,
the
institutional
support
of
bishops,
particularly
the
bishops

of
Rome,
and
kings
or
other
elite
figures
allowed
their
messengers
and
envoys
to

travel
with
relative
freedom
from
danger
and
restriction
over
long
distances
and

across
boundaries.
The
relationships
between
rulers,
bishops,
and
other
members
of

the
political
and
ecclesiastical
elite
could
and
did
transcend
those
borders
and

lasted
across
generations
even
in
the
absence
of
personal
ties.
While
political

upheaval
and
other
tensions
might
have
restricted
private
correspondence,
crisis

and
tension
of
all
kinds
enabled
or
even
necessitated
more
intense
contacts
between

bishops,
emperors,
and
kings,
often
over
exceptional
distances.
2

The
bishops
of
the
period,
particularly
the
bishops
of
Rome,
furnish
a
far

greater
volume
of
long-‐distance,
border-‐crossing
letters
as
well
as
a
greater
depth
of

contacts
than
diplomatic
letters
between
kings.
Popes
from
Leo
to
Gregory
the
Great

1

Of
the
Gallic
epistolographers,
Avitus
of
Vienne
–
more
on
him
below
–
falls
into

both
categories,
Ennodius
of
Pavia’s
correspondence
predates
his
work
as
bishop
of

Pavia,
Sidonius’
time
as
bishop
did
not
include
many
long-‐distance
letters,
and

Ruricius
of
Limoges’
networks
were
quite
restricted
despite
his
office
as
bishop
of

that
city.

2

E.g.
Variae
10.19-‐26,
Epistulae
Austrasicae
25-‐47;
see
also
Allen
and
Neil,
Crisis

Management
in
Late
Antiquity.

113

regularly
communicated
with
the
political
and
ecclesiastical
elite
in
Constantinople.
3

The
major
political
center
of
the
east
stands
out
as
the
most
common
destination
for

both
secular
diplomatic
correspondence
and
the
long-‐distance
letters
of
popes
and

bishops.
4

Unlike
the
limited
corpus
of
diplomatic
correspondence,
however,
the

bishops
of
Rome
also
had
contacts
outside
of
Constantinople.

The
summer
of
506
was
a
volatile
time
in
Gaul.
The
restless,
ambitious,
and

warlike
king
of
the
Franks,
Clovis,
had
succeeded
in
bringing
his
kingdom
to
the

brink
of
open
conflict
with
the
Visigoths
in
Aquitaine.
Tensions
between
the

Visigothic
King
Alaric
II
(r.
484-‐507)
and
Clovis
(r.
c.
481-‐511)
went
back
nearly
two

decades,
when
Alaric
had
given
shelter
to
a
defeated
warlord
by
the
name
of

Syagrius
in
486.
Clovis
had
defeated
Syagrius
and
driven
him
from
his
capital
of

Soissons,
and
Clovis
would
not
entertain
the
possibility
of
a
return
engagement.
5

Alaric
capitulated,
but
his
issues
with
Clovis
continued.
The
Frankish
king
raided

into
Aquitaine
on
at
least
two
occasions
in
the
490s,
taking
Saintes
and
even

Bordeaux
before
retreating
back
across
the
border.
6

He
intervened
in
the

Burgundian
civil
war
in
500,
making
himself
enough
of
a
threat
to
secure
guarantees

3

On
which
see
Collectio
Avellana,
as
Epistulae
imperatorum
pontificum
aliorum
inde

ab
a.
CCCLXVII
usque
ad
a.
DLIII
datae
Avellana
quae
dicitur
collectio,
ed.
Otto

Guenther,
CSEL
35,
Vienne:
F.
Tempsky,
1895-‐8.

4
On
the
diplomatic
practices
of
the
Eastern
Empire,
see
Rudolf
Helm,

Untersuchungen
über
den
auswärtigen
diplomatischen
verkehr
des
römischen
reiches

im
zeitalter
der
spätantike
(Berlin:
Walter
de
Gruyter,
1932).
5

Gregory
of
Tours,
Historiarum
libri
X,
ed.
B.
Krusch
and
W.
Levison,
MGH
SRM
1.1,

(Hanover:
Weidmanns,
1951).
Gregory
II.27
is
the
sole
source
for
the
incident.
See

Halsall,
“Childeric’s
Grave,”
with
Gregory
II.18,
suggests
that
Clovis
saw
Syagrius
as
a

possible
claimant
to
the
title
of
king
of
the
Franks.

6

Auctarium
Havniense,
in
Chronica
Minora
1,
MGH
AA
9,
Berlin:
1892;
s.a.
496
and

498.
See
James,
The
Franks,
86,
and
Wolfram,
History
of
the
Goths,
191.

114

of
tribute
from
both
parties
before
the
possibility
of
Visigothic
involvement
became

reality.
7

The
two
rulers
met
face-‐to-‐face
on
an
island
in
the
Loire
after
the

Burgundian
incident,
and
promised
friendship
and
peace.
8

Peace
did
not
last
long.
Clovis
kept
busy,
conquering
the
Alamanni
earlier
in

506
and
ending
up
on
the
borders
of
his
putative
ally
and
brother-‐in-‐law,
the

Ostrogothic
king
Theoderic,
at
the
end
of
the
campaign.
9

The
combination
of
Clovis’

aggression
and
renewed
threats
toward
Alaric
II
prompted
Theoderic
to
take
action.

He
was
the
senior
partner
in
the
complex
web
of
kinship
and
diplomatic

relationships
that
bound
together
the
various
kingdoms
of
the
former
Western

Empire,
and
the
king
dispatched
a
pair
of
envoys
on
a
last-‐ditch
mission
to
prevent

the
outbreak
of
war.
10

The
two
envoys
carried
a
series
of
letters
to
the
rulers
of
the
barbarian

kingdoms.
11

The
first
was
addressed
to
Alaric
II,
the
second
to
the
Burgundian
King

Gundobad
(r.
473-‐516),
the
third
to
the
rulers
of
the
Heruli,
Thuringi,
and
Varni,
and

the
last
to
Clovis
himself.
This
was
an
epic
journey
of
several
months’
duration

7

Gregory
II.32-‐33;
Marius
Episcopus
Aventicensis,
Chronica,
in
Chronica
Minora
2,

ed.
Theodor
Mommsen,
MGH
AA
11,
(Berlin:
Weidmanns,
1894),
s.a.
500.1-‐2.

Wolfram,
History,
p.
102.

8

Gregory
II.35.
Wolfram,
History,
p.
102
and
James,
p.
86.
The
most
in-‐depth
take
on

these
events
is
Mathisen,
“The
First
Franco-‐Visigothic
War
and
the
Prelude
to
the

Battle
of
Vouille,”
in
Mathisen
and
Shanzer
(eds.),
The
Battle
of
Vouille.

9

Variae
2.41
refers
to
the
Alamanni
as
auctores
perfidiae
and
to
Clovis’
actions
as

vindicta,
which
means
they
were
probably
the
aggressors.
Gregory
II.30
and
II.37

are
the
classic
accounts.

10

See
Patrick
Wyman,
“Theoderic
the
Great,
the
Exterae
Gentes,
and
the
Fall
of
the

Roman
Empire,”
unpublished
MA
thesis,
National
University
of
Ireland,
Galway,

2009.
More
generally,
see
Arnold,
Theoderic,
and
Danuta
Shanzer,
“Two
Clocks
and
a

Wedding:
Theodoric’s
Diplomatic
Relations
with
the
Burgundians,”

Romanobarbarica
14
(1996-‐97),
225-‐58.

11

Variae
3.1-‐4.
Like
all
of
the
Variae,
the
letters
excise
the
names
of
their
carriers.

115

across
the
former
Western
Empire
and
beyond
its
boundaries
to
“the
distant

borders
of
the
gentes”
and
“the
farthest
parts
of
the
world.”
12

One
of
the
envoys
was

Senarius,
an
experienced
operator
and
veteran
of
the
highest
levels
of
the
court
in

Ravenna.
While
this
mission
was
of
extraordinary
length
and
complexity,
the
work

of
an
envoy
was
nothing
new
to
Senarius,
who
undertook
25
embassies
over
the

course
of
his
long
career.
13

Senarius
and
his
compatriot
set
out
from
Italy
no
later
than
the
beginning
of

May,
506,
traveling
first
to
the
court
of
Alaric
II
in
Toulouse.
14

From
Rome
they

could
go
across
the
open
sea
to
Arles
or
Narbonne,
a
trip
of
approximately
a
week,

or
they
could
hug
the
coast
in
a
step-‐by-‐step
journey
that
would
have
been
nearly
as

fast.
15

From
Narbonne
they
turned
inland,
heading
west
toward
Carcassonne
with

the
sharp
southern
edge
of
the
Massif
Central
rising
to
their
right
in
the
distance

beyond
the
Aude
River,
and
the
foothills
of
the
Pyrenees
on
their
left.
After

Carcassonne
and
crossing
the
Aude,
the
landscape
flattened
into
rolling
hills
as
they

turned
to
the
northwest.

How
Alaric
II
received
Senarius
and
his
companion
in
Toulouse
is
unclear,

but
there
is
every
reason
to
think
that
he
was
amenable
to
Theoderic’s
suggestion
of

12

Ennodius
5.15.

13

See
Ennodius
5.15-‐16
and
Andrew
Gillett,
Envoys
and
Political
Communication,

210-‐11
for
a
deep
and
convincing
argument
for
Senarius’
inclusion
as
one
of
the
two

envoys,
and
190-‐212
on
his
career
more
generally.

14

Gillett,
Envoys,
210:
Senarius
must
have
returned
from
his
mission
by
September

of
506
for
it
to
be
mentioned
in
Ennodius
5.16,
and
estimates
via
ORBIS
suggest
that

the
round
trip
would
have
taken
a
minimum
of
four
months
and
likely
longer
unless

the
envoys
had
access
to
the
horse
relays
of
the
cursus
publicus.
Variae
3.1
on

Toulouse.

15

Travel
time
estimates
provided
by
ORBIS.
On
coastal
journeys
in
the

Mediterranean,
see
Horden
and
Purcell,
Corrupting
Sea,
140-‐3.

116

peace.
16

Clovis
was
undoubtedly
the
aggressor,
and
the
possibility
of
either
stifling

the
Frankish
king’s
ambitions
via
the
threat
of
action
or
joint
military
action
in
the

case
of
invasion
must
have
been
appealing.
17

From
Toulouse
the
envoys
went
back

to
Narbonne,
where
they
either
took
the
Via
Domitia
along
the
coast
to
Arles
or,

more
likely,
took
a
short
hop
on
an
ocean-‐going
vessel.
Senarius
and
his
companion

then
turned
north
along
the
Via
Agrippa,
which
ran
parallel
to
the
Rhône
through

the
great
valley
of
the
same
name.
Somewhere
just
outside
of
Arles,
they
passed

from
Visigothic
control
into
the
territory
of
the
Burgundians,
marking
the
first
land

boundary
between
kingdoms
through
which
the
two
envoys
passed.
18

They

apparently
did
so
without
difficulty,
moving
through
the
Burgundian-‐controlled

cities
of
Provence
–
Avignon,
Orange
with
its
magnificent
theater,
Valence
–
until

they
reached
Vienne,
the
kingdom’s
capital.
19

As
in
Toulouse,
Senarius
and
his
fellow
envoy
seem
to
have
successfully

negotiated
with
King
Gundobad.
20

From
Vienne
their
path
grows
less
certain
but

wilder,
as
they
moved
beyond
the
boundaries
of
the
former
Western
Empire
into

16

Variae
3.1.2;
Gillett,
Envoys,
182,
contra
Amory,
People
and
Identity,
61-‐6.
The
long

delay
between
the
diplomatic
mission
and
the
beginning
of
hostilities
in
the
summer

of
507
has
been
taken
as
an
indication
of
Senarius’
success:
see
Gillett,
Envoys
and

Political
Communication,
211-‐2
and
further
Arnold,
Theoderic,
263-‐5.

17

Variae
3.4.

18

See
Wolfram,
History,
192,
for
a
discussion
of
the
extent
of
Visigothic
territory.

19

On
Provence,
see
Anderson,
Roman
Architecture,
54-‐60.
It
is
possible
that
King

Gundobad
was
not
in
Vienne
but
rather
in
Geneva,
another
favored
locale
of
the

Burgundian
kings,
but
the
vast
majority
of
the
identifiable
correspondence

addressed
to
Gundobad
(e.g.
that
of
Avitus
of
Vienne)
went
to
the
former
city.

20

Ennodius,
Panegyricus
dictus
clementissimo
regi
Theoderico,
ed.
and
tr.
Christian

Rohr
as
Der
Theoderich-‐Panegyricus
des
Ennodius,
MGH
Studien
und
Texte
12,

(Hannover:
Hahnische
Bucchhandlung,
1995).
The
Panegyric
was
composed
in
the

winter
of
506
and
describes
(X.54)
the
Burgundians
as
locked
in
perpetual
alliance

with
the
Ostrogoths.
See
Gillett,
Envoys,
211-‐2.

117

territory
that
was
then,
as
it
always
had
been,
barbaricum.
The
kings
of
the
Heruli,

Thuringi,
and
Varni
were
the
intended
recipients,
and
aside
from
the
likelihood
that

their
territory
bordered
that
of
Clovis,
it
is
unclear
where
they
were
located.
21

We

can
surmise,
however,
that
the
journey
was
extraordinarily
long
and
difficult,

through
heavily
forested
and
mountainous
terrain
that
had
few
roads
or
comforts

for
weary
travelers.

The
final
leg
of
the
envoys’
journey
brought
them
into
Frankish
territory
and

to
relative
civilization.
It
is
likely
that
Clovis
was
in
Paris,
a
small
but
well-‐situated

city
from
which
he
could
reach
the
distant
corners
of
his
growing
domain
with

relative
ease.
22

Senarius
and
the
other
envoy
delivered
the
last
letter
and
made
their

pitch,
a
last-‐ditch
effort
to
postpone
conflict,
and
seem
to
have
left
with
every
reason

to
think
that
they
had
succeeded
in
avoiding
war.
23

From
Paris
they
went
south
once

again,
passing
first
through
Orleans,
then
swinging
wide
through
Decetia
and
on
to

Autun,
moving
from
Frankish
territory
once
again
into
that
of
the
Burgundians.
At

Chalon-‐Sur-‐Saone
Senarius
and
his
companion
turned
due
south,
either
hopping

onto
a
boat
down
the
Saone
to
Lyon
and
the
Rhône
or
taking
the
Via
Agrippa
that

21

On
the
Thuringi
more
generally,
see
Janine
Fries-‐Knoblach,
Heiko
Steuer,
and
John

Hines
(eds.),
The
Baiuvarii
and
Thuringi:
An
Ethnographic
Perspective,
(Woodbridge:

Boydell,
2014).
The
Heruli
were
likely
somewhere
close
to
the
Danube,
perhaps

extending
into
former
Roman
Noricum
or
Pannonia
I,
while
the
Varni
were
most

likely
on
the
lower
Rhine.
See
Wolfram,
History,
318,
and
Jos
Bazelmans,
“The
early

medieval
use
of
ethnic
names
from
classical
antiquity.
The
case
of
the
Frisians,”
in

Ton
Derks
and
Nico
Roymans
(eds.),
Ethnic
Constructs
in
Antiquity:
The
Role
of

Power
and
Tradition,
(Amsterdam:
Amsterdam
University
Press,
2009),
321-‐37;

329.

22

On
Clovis’
relationship
with
Paris,
see
Bitel,
Landscape
with
Two
Saints,
75-‐80.

23

Senarius
and
the
other
envoy
had
an
oral
message
along
with
the
letter
(Variae

3.1.5)
and
presumably
some
freedom
to
discuss
beyond
the
bounds
of
their
written

instructions.
Gillett,
Envoys,
211-‐2.

118

ran
parallel
to
it.
From
Lyon
and
then
Vienne,
it
was
a
quick
trip
to
Arles
at
the

mouth
of
the
Rhone,
yet
another
border
crossing
back
into
the
Visigothic
kingdom,

and
finally
a
ship
back
to
Italy
and
home.

Map
4:
A
speculative
reconstruction
of
Senarius’s
journey.

There
are
many
noteworthy
things
about
the
epic
journey
of
Senarius
and
his

companion.
The
sheer
distance
they
traveled
and
time
they
spent
in
transit
–
at
least

four
months
–
is
unmatched
for
an
embassy
in
the
period,
and
it
even
dwarfs

lengthy
west-‐to-‐east
religious
pilgrimages.
More
important
is
the
staggering
number

119

of
political
boundaries
the
two
envoys
crossed
over
the
course
of
their
mission.

They
went
from
Ostrogothic
Italy
to
the
Visigothic
Kingdom,
passed
into
Burgundian

territory,
went
beyond
the
boundaries
of
the
Roman
world
into
the
upper
Danube
to

the
Heruli,
then
into
the
realm
of
the
Thuringi,
and
finally
to
the
north
Atlantic
coast

before
turning
south
to
meet
Clovis
and
the
Franks.
Another
run
through
the

Burgundian
and
Visigothic
kingdoms
before
the
final
leg
of
the
return
trip

completed
the
range
of
border-‐crossing.
They
passed
through
six
different

kingdoms
and
possibly
more
on
at
least
nine
occasions
during
a
time
of
intense

political
tension
and
volatility,
with
the
Visigoths,
Franks,
and
Burgundians
all
at

risk
of
war
with
one
another.
Beyond
the
old
frontier,
Clovis
and
the
Alemanni
were

shortly
to
fight
a
brief
but
violent
war
that
lay
directly
in
the
envoys’
path.
24

The
lengthy
mission
of
Senarius
and
his
fellow
envoy
is
an
outlier
–
no
other

recorded
embassy
in
the
period
went
as
far
or
lasted
as
long
–
but
it
is
a
less

extreme
example
than
it
might
appear
at
first
glance.
The
kings
of
the
Burgundians

and
Franks
corresponded
and
otherwise
engaged
politically
with
the
eastern

emperors,
and
vice
versa,
sending
multiple
embassies
back
and
forth
in
the
sixth

century.
25

Cassiodorus’
Variae
contain
many
examples
of
diplomatic

correspondence,
including
the
four
letters
Senarius
and
his
companion
carried,
but

also
multiple
missions
to
the
eastern
emperors
and
the
kings
of
the
Vandals
as
well

24

Variae
2.41
with
Gregory
2.30
and
2.37,
who
places
the
conflict
in
496.
See
James,

The
Franks,
80-‐85
for
a
convincing
argument
on
treating
the
496
and
506
conflicts

as
one
and
the
same.

25

Avitus
of
Vienne
9,
46A,
47-‐8,
78,
and
93-‐4;
he
acted
as
the
amanuensis
for
the
son

and
successor
of
the
aforementioned
King
Gundobad,
Sigismund,
in
his

correspondence
with
the
Emperor
Anastasius.
Several
of
those
letters
were,

however,
written
in
Avitus’
own
name.
Epistulae
Austrasicae
7,
18-‐20,
25-‐39,
43-‐5,

and
47.

120

as
the
kings
of
the
west.
26

Diplomatic
correspondence
between
rulers
forms
only
a

tiny
proportion
of
the
total
in
the
period,
however.
Embassies
and
the
letters
they

carried
were
limited
to
particular
routes
and
destinations,
and
do
not
in
themselves

represent
evidence
of
widespread
contacts
between
separate
kingdoms.

The
hundreds
of
letters
written
by
bishops
of
Rome
in
this
period
show
long-‐
distance
institutional
connections
and
relationships,
many
of
them
longstanding
and

generational,
from
Britain
to
Alexandria.
Leo
I
(r.
440-‐461),
the
great
proponent
of

papal
supremacy,
corresponded
freely
across
the
eastern
and
western

Mediterranean,
and
while
his
successors
were
more
restricted
in
their
activities
and

until
Gregory
the
Great
less
prolific,
the
precedent
had
been
set.
27

While
the
quantity
of
papal
letters
is
vastly
larger,
diplomatic
letters
do
offer

a
great
deal
of
information
on
the
possibilities
of
long-‐distance
correspondence
and

accordingly
travel.
We
have
71
letters
of
this
kind,
defined
here
as
correspondence

dealing
with
political
topics
sent
by
kings
or
other
political
elites
–
namely
queens
or

administrative
officials
–
spanning
the
period
from
the
beginning
of
the
sixth

century
to
the
early
seventh.
28

Despite
the
increasing
restrictions
on
long-‐distance

26

E.g.
Variae
1.46
(to
Gundobad),
2.41
(to
Clovis),
3.1-‐4,
5.43-‐44
(to
Thrasamund,

king
of
the
Vandals);
1.1,
2.1,
8.1,
to
recipients
in
Constantinople.

27

On
papal
supremacy,
see
Kriston
R.
Rennie,
The
Foundations
of
Medieval
Papal

Legations
(New
York:
Palgrave
McMillan,
2013),
24-‐26;
Bronwen
Neil,
Leo
the
Great

(New
York:
Routledge,
2009);
George
E.
Demacopoulos,
The
Invention
of
Peter:

Apostolic
Discourse
and
Papal
Authority
in
Late
Antiquity
(Philadelphia:
University
of

Pennsylvania
Press,
2013);
Sessa,
The
Formation
of
Papal
Authority.

28

Variae
1.1,
1.46,
2.1,
2.41,
3.1-‐4,
4.1-‐2,
5.1,
5.43-‐4,
8.1,
9.1,
10.1-‐2,
10.8-‐10,
10.15,

10.19-‐26,
10.32-‐33,
10.35,
and
11.13;
Avitus
29,
46A,
47,
78,
93-‐4;
Epistulae

Austrasicae
18-‐20,
25-‐48;
Sisebut
2-‐5,
9.
This
total
excludes
correspondence

between
the
eastern
emperors
and
popes,
which
we
will
discuss
in
the
following

section.
See
Andrew
Gillett,
"Diplomatic
Documents
from
the
Barbarian
Kingdoms,"

in
Rome
and
the
Barbarians:
The
Birth
of
a
New
World,
ed.
Jean-‐Jacques
Aillagon
et

121

travel
in
this
period,
kings
could
and
did
communicate
regularly
through
their

envoys.

Name
of
Collection
Number
of
Diplomatic
Letters

Cassiodorus’s
Variae
(506-‐535)
33

Avitus
of
Vienne
(510-‐517)
6

Epistulae
Austrasicae
(534-‐590)
27

Visigothic
Letters
5

Total:
71

Table
5:
Diplomatic
letters

Embassies
were
a
longstanding
and
essential
part
of
the
internal
political
life

of
the
Roman
world.
The
emperor
regularly
received
representatives
of
the
various

communities
that
made
up
the
empire,
and
for
local
elites
engaging
in
such

embassies
was
an
essential
marker
of
their
participation
in
the
Roman
political

system.
29

The
practice
of
political
communication
to
which
these