Perpetua

In the Passio Perpetuae, the procurator Hilarianus appears as a stock persecutor, with no real character of his own. A careful examination of epigraphic evidence, however, allows us to fill this gap somewhat. The Hilarianus of this text is very likely identical with the P. Aelius Hilarianus who dedicated two altars in Spain. This identification allows us not only to sketch in his background, but also to reconstruct his religious attitudes, since the language of the Spanish dedications suggests someone with sharply conservative views. Moreover, given the great latitude that Roman governors enjoyed in their conduct of trials, and given Hilarianus' noticeably harsh treatment of Perpetua, we may take this episode as a good example of the extent to which the personal attitudes of individual Roman officials influenced the persecution of Christians in the period before Decius.

Con Il “dilavato e graffiato schermo” di Alessandro Manzoni, Antonella Brancaccio compie un’originale ricognizione storica e critica sulle metamorfosi cine-televisive dei Promessi Sposi, partendo da una più diretta considerazione sul rilievo che la dimensione visiva assume all’interno del romanzo, sia nei suoi svolgimenti descrittivi che nei suoi sviluppi linguistici e stilistici, sia nella proiezione figurativa data dalle xilografie di Francesco Gonin per l’edizione illustrata del 1840. Tenendo conto dell’attenzione che la critica più recente ha rivolto alle vignette della Quarantana, l’indagine di Antonella Brancaccio ne approfondisce la gestualità e il carattere scenico, rivelando una vera e propria disposizione “registica” dello scrittore in rapporto all’illustratore. Questa sezione preliminare, ma essenziale per l’evidenza che dà alla prospettiva più specificamente letteraria, si confronta problematicamente con la riflessione teorica sviluppatasi nel Novecento sugli effetti dello sguardo e sul rapporto tra parola e visione.
Che si tratti di tentativi per il piccolo o grande schermo o, ancora, di progetti incompiuti, Antonella Brancaccio si sofferma sui vari rimaneggiamenti, ricostruendone di volta in volta le vicende produttive, le scelte d’impostazione, le reazioni del pubblico e della critica. A ciò aggiunge un ampio assortimento iconografico, frutto di un diretto esame di tutto l’ampio materiale disponibile, che conduce a verificare le continuità e le sfasature della resa visiva, il modo vario di lavorare dentro l’“archivio” figurativo definito nella prima sezione del lavoro.
Il “dilavato e graffiato” schermo di Alessandro Manzoni scrive, insomma, un capitolo fondamentale di storia della ricezione, esplorando un immaginario popolare e nazional-popolare al quale il romanzo non cessa, suo malgrado, di essere sacrificato.

A traditional Christian narrative imagines the first Christians locked in a centuries-long battle with hostile Roman emperors; the heroes of this tradition are martyrs, men and women who died (so the story goes) bravely for the sake of the Christian mission. But thinking of early Christianity like this is a reductive farce. It is like telling the story of Robin Hood and King Richard, where one is the noble hero and the other is an evil miser:  the polarization of good and evil make for a fantastic story, and there may even be a kernel of truth in the generalities, but ending the story there would be a gross oversimplification. So, too, must we expand upon and critically examine the stories of early Christian martyrs. This paper will examine one martyrology, “The Martyrdom of Saints Perpetua and Felicitas,” from an historical perspective, and will argue that the story—like other martyrologies of its time—sought to portray Christians in a powerful light, before Christianity actually had any real political power. In doing so, I will review the content of the story; examine how its gendered language functions to demonstrate the power of Christianity; locate the martyrology within the context of its literary precedents, specifically ‘noble death’ tales; and contrast the actual historical environment of persecution with Christian accounts.

Although few Christians were likely to suffer the most violent consequences of persecution under the Roman Empire, the experiences of those imprisoned, tortured, or killed were significant far beyond the lives of the individuals concerned. These living martyrs took on a significance that was important for the whole of Christian identity, becoming spiritual patrons dispensing grace, or exemplars of an alternative mode of life. The question of whether and how to feed these prisoners became a crucial one for the rest of the Carthaginian Church.

Two Greek editions of the diary of Perpetua have recently appeared, one by Polymnia Athanassiadi and the other by Thanassis Georgiadis, both bound to attract attention. Perpetua lived at Thuburbo Minus, west of Carthage in North Africa. She was an upperclass, well-educated Roman citizen, twenty-two years of age, newly married and mother of a baby boy, who converted to Christianity and chose martyrdom instead of sacrificing to the traditional gods of the Roman Empire. Her decision was interpreted as an insult to the gods and the emperors, and a direct challenge to the established order and resulted in her being sentenced to death to the beasts of the arena in Carthage in 203 CE. It was a well-established Roman belief that the traditional gods offered military victories, stability, prosperity and grandeur to the Roman people. In return and to secure the continuation of this benevolence, the Roman people carried certain strictly defined rites in honour of their gods. Pagan religion was less a matter of personal devotion than of national significance. The Christians despised the traditional gods, declaring that they did not exist or that they were malevolent demons and neglected or obstructed the traditional religious rites. This conduct disrupted the agreement the Romans had made with their gods and made the empire vulnerable. From the second century on, natural disasters were being attributed to the wrath of gods as a result of the Christian atheism and the hatred Christians allegedly had for the world. It is extremely fortunate that Perpetua's diary, which she kept while in prison awaiting her death, has survived. It is a bold, vivid and honest account of her prison life, her dreams and the hopeless efforts of her father to persuade her to conform and sacrifice. The fact that the text praised prophesy and placed martyrs above the established church hierarchy led scholars to believe that is was a Montanist product. Fourth and fifth century bishops felt uncomfortable with Perpetua's diary and surrounded it with homiletic commentaries. Instead of letting the text speak directly to the community of the faithful, they guided the understanding of words, subtly changing its messages, and controlled its dissemination. They made Perpetua less appealing as a role model and less threatening to the social order. The impression and fascination her diary exerted, however, remain unchanged.

The article Passio Perpetuae and Acta Perpetuae: Between Tradition and Innovation focuses, after general analysis of the text and its issues was given, on the extant versions of the hagiographic narrative known as Passio Perpetuae et Felicitatis. This text contained a number of innovative and - in the context of Antique and early Christian society - potentially subversive features: the central character, Perpetua, is a woman who is claimed by the editor of the text to have extraordinary spiritual authority (e.g. to absolve the dead from punishment in the nether world, to reconcile differences between major Church figures etc.). Perpetua rejects all conventional social roles that were considered natural for a woman (mother, wife, daughter fully subordinated to paternal authority etc.). These novel features were felt to undermine the existing social order and hierarchy, and it was necessary to "explain them away" in order to make the text more compliant with traditional and generally accepted social values. This was the aim of the later version of the narrative known as Acta Perpetuae. In spite of these efforts, Passio Perpetuae remained highly venerated in the mainstream Church and, though innovative, it paradoxically became a tradition in its own right.

A comparison of Passio Perpetuae 21,2–3 with Martyrium Polycarpi 16,1 and 14,2 suggests a direct relationship between the two texts. The most likely explanation of this relationship is the dependence of Passio Perpetuae upon Martyrium Polycarpi, thus providing a new terminus ante quem for the writing of Martyrium Polycarpi – 213 CE.

The martyr Perpetua’s declaration, “I am a Christian”, is a point of departure for the invention of religion in the familiar sense of beliefs and practices chosen, rather than as the ritual and piety characteristic of, and universal in, ancient Mediterranean societies. By implication this means the appearance of the secular also. This study explores early Christian evidence from Perpetua and Tertullian and, after the Constan- tinian revolution, Augustine. This history of reflection on the relationship between belief and identity has interpretive significance for the changing character of religion, and of the secular, in Australian society today.

The possible relationship between the Passion of Perpetua and Felicitas, and Tertullian is one that that has intrigued scholars for many generations. It hardly seems possible that Tertullian would not have known of the dramatic martyrdom of Perpetua and her companions in his own city. However, this paper argues that the authors of the Passion and Tertullian represent different early Christian traditions about the afterlife; indeed traditions that were in polemical conflict with each other. The writings of Tertullian themselves provide evidence that suggests that his relationship between his own views of the afterlife and those of the authors of the Passion of Perpetua were in polemical opposition in Carthage. The two writings appear to represent either two different communities or two streams of tradition within the same community. Another way of characterising the two writings is by considering Tertullian as representing “official, ecclesiastical Christianity,” while the Passion of Perpetua represents a more popular version of Christianity. This study particularly considers Tertullian’s statements in Scorpiace 10 and De Anima 55 within the context of this polemic within the Carthaginian Christian community. The reading of the Passion of Perpetua and the writings of Tertullian suggested here helps to point towards some clearer answers for questions that have long vexed scholars, such as why it is that Tertullian seems to ignore Perpetua, and whether or not Tertullian was the editor of the Passion of Perpetua.

The martyr Perpetua’s declaration, “I am a Christian”, is a point of departure for the invention of religion in the familiar sense of beliefs and practices chosen, rather than as the ritual and piety characteristic of, and universal in, ancient Mediterranean societies. By implication this means the appearance of the secular also. This study explores early Christian evidence from Perpetua and Tertullian and, after the Constan- tinian revolution, Augustine. This history of reflection on the relationship between belief and identity has interpretive significance for the changing character of religion, and of the secular, in Australian society today.