A.D. 381 heretics, pagans, and the dawn of the monotheistic state ( PDFDrive )

Trier, the imperial capital on the Rhine frontier, the fourth-century audience hall
still stands, although it has long since been stripped of the fine marbles that once
encased its walls. The emperor was enthroned behind a screen of curtains and
there were elaborate conventions governing which of his subjects could
approach him and how closely. Petitions would be relayed upwards through
officials, and only those of the highest status had the right to kiss the emperor’s
purple robe. Any direct physical contact with the emperor’s flesh was forbidden,
and one can see on the missorium that the official’s hands are veiled to preserve
the separation. The emperor could not be referred to by name, and it was in these
years that indirect methods of address such as ‘Your Majesty’ and ‘Your
Serenity’, even ‘Your Everlastingness’, evolved. Through association with him,
his palace was considered sacred, and the defacing of a statue of the emperor
was treated as a direct assault on the quasi-divine ruler and subject to brutal
punishment.
It was within this atmosphere and imagery that Theodosius suddenly found
himself enveloped in January 379. It was a remarkable promotion. When
Themistius stressed how God’s approval had been shown through Theodosius
receiving imperial status from Gratian (who, of course, was divus in his own
right) rather than seizing it, he was making an important point. All Theodosius’
immediate predecessors as emperor owed their promotion to the army or to
family ties. Constantine had fought his way to power, but his father, Constantius,
had been one of Diocletian’s Caesars (deputy emperors). Constantine was
succeeded by his three sons, the last of whom, Constantius II, died in 361 and
was succeeded in his turn by his cousin, the pagan emperor Julian. Jovian was
already a senior officer when he was proclaimed emperor by his troops on the
death of Julian, as was Valentinian on Jovian’s death. Valens, Gratian and
Valentinian II were all, of course, members of the imperial family. In the
circumstances, Theodosius’ accession, from relative obscurity in Spain, must
have seemed miraculous. While there is no direct record of what the Christian
Theodosius felt, it seems likely he would have believed that he really was the
chosen of God.
Yet an emperor was a human being on whom the demands were awesome. He
could hardly sit impassively behind a curtain in the imperial audience chamber
for long. Some of his public appearances, before the crowds in the hippodrome
or when he entered a city in a ceremonial known as the adventus, might be stagemanaged,
but the image of mystique must have been hard to sustain. Ammianus
Marcellinus provides a superb description of the entry of Constantius II into