Cultures in Conflict:

Quintilian’s Conversion by Saint Jerome

by Jeffry C. Davis, Wheaton College

Coincidentally, the moral teachings of Christ emerged in the same century as those of Quintilian; both men’s views were copied and circulated simultaneously throughout Rome and the rest of empire.  Once the gospel message spread and the Church became established, as Robert Kaster explains, “Educated men were assimilated into Christianity in the West as in the East, notably among the Christian academics teaching in the schools of grammar and rhetoric by the mid-fourth century.” [1]   Yet, despite the conversion of pagan souls—and quite probably because of their conversion—early Church Fathers questioned the efficacy of pagan literature.  In the second century Tertullian poignantly raised the question, “What indeed has Athens to do with Jerusalem?” [2]   This question, along with its unspoken but implied corollary—What has Rome to do with Jerusalem?—reveals the inherent tensions of cultures in conflict, tensions not easily or quickly resolved by the Church Fathers who came after Tertullian, like Jerome.  

            Christians had sufficient grounds for being suspicious of the classical way of life.  R. R. Bolgar vividly depicts their situation in The Classical Heritage and Its Beneficiaries:  “The Faith which had built the catacombs and sustained the tortures of the arena had its roots in experiences of which its persecutors were necessarily ignorant; and religion was a lion unlikely in any case to lie down in peaceful concord with the lamb of sweet reason.” [3]   Nevertheless, pagan converts could not easily forget or let go of parts of their past.  Bolgar asserts that feelings of ambivalence characterize the early Christians’ response to the Roman world, a world both civilized and decadent. [4]   Converts had to reconcile the daily tasks of living in society with their faith:  “They wanted to be Christians, but amid the usual appurtenances of Roman life.” [5]   In the midst of the urgent needs of the moment—especially concerning education—Christians at times resorted to methods and models of the secular past, making a careful and calculated compromise with the classical world. 

            Such is the case with Saint Jerome, who lived from 340 to 420 CE.  Baptized around age twenty, he spent the majority of his life in dedication to ecclesiastical and theological concerns.  His most notable accomplishment being the translation of the Bible into Latin, Jerome is particularly praised for his work on the Old Testament, which he translated from the Hebrew and the Aramaic instead of the Septuagint.  The project, completed in 406 CE, took over twenty years to complete.   The end result was the most widely accepted version of the Bible, the first printed book.

            The translation of the Vulgate was only one of several projects which required Jerome to draw upon his classical training, the sort of training which he questioned for most of his life.  Jerome’s self-scrutiny is clearly shown in the most famous of his letters, Letter XXII, written in 383, approximately the same time that he began his work on the Vulgate. [6]   In the letter Jerome endorses the rigors of chastity and daily virtue for one devoted wholly unto God, in this case Eustochium, to whom it is written, the third daughter of one of his closest friends, a devout Christian named Paula.  According to J. N. D. Kelly, in his authoritative biography on Jerome, this letter is more than mere instruction to a single young woman on the merits of virginity; it represents one of several letters which were copied and circulated as a means to promote Jerome’s ascetic campaign from 383 to 384, with the pope’s support. [7]   “He was deliberately using this one to Eustochium,” explains Kelly, “as a platform for setting out his challenging programme, and also for exposing the rottenness which, as he saw it, was infecting great numbers of would-be Christians in Rome, including many clergy and professed ascetics.” [8]   Appropriately then, in the letter Jerome offers a personal account of his great attraction to, yet searing of conscience about, the reading of pagan literature.  Prefatory to his harrowing encounter with God is Jerome’s disclosure of his inner struggle between the cultures of Jerusalem and Rome and the educational elements and aims they represent:

For “what communion hath light with darkness?  And what concord hath Christ with Belial?”  How can Horace go with the psalter, Virgil with the gospels, Cicero with the apostle?  Is not a brother made to stumble if he sees you sitting at meat in an idol’s temple?  Although “unto the pure all things are pure,” and “nothing is to be refused if it be received with thanksgiving,” still we ought not to drink the cup of Christ, and, at the same time, the cup of devils. [9]

Clearly, as the above passage shows, Jerome sees the sacred and the profane existing as ontological realities with clearly demarcated boundaries.  And yet, his very questioning reveals his own inability to maintain such a clear distinction, such a neat categorical imperative.

In his attempt to illustrate his struggle and its supposed resolution more graphically, Jerome proceeds in the letter to describe a personal experience for Eustochium from many years before, an experience when he was learning to discipline himself by restraining his appetites.  Jerome writes, “When I was on my way to Jerusalem to wage my warfare, I still could not bring myself to forego the library which I had formed for myself at Rome with great care and toil.” [10]   Caught in a cycle of abstinence and indulgence, Jerome explains, “I would fast only that I might afterwards read Cicero.” [11]   Seeking purification of worldly affections, he spent many nights in prayer and contemplation of his past sins, but immediately after, he confesses, he returned to the works of the Roman playwright Plautus. [12]   At times, he acknowledges, when he would come back to his “right mind,” he would read the writings of the Hebrew prophets, only to find their style “rude and repellent.”  This interior struggle between his affinities for Rome versus Jerusalem eventuated in a troubling vision which came to Jerome while he was in the throes of death, as he elaborates in the following extended passage from the letter:

About the middle of Lent a deep-seated fever fell upon my weakened body, and while it destroyed my rest completely—the story seems hardly credible—it so wasted my unhappy frame that scarcely anything was left of me but skin and bone.  Meantime preparations for my funeral went on; my body grew gradually colder, and the warmth of life lingered only in my throbbing breast.  Suddenly I was caught up in the spirit and dragged before the judgment seat of the Judge; and here the light was so bright, and those who stood around were so radiant, that I cast myself upon the ground and did not dare to look up.  Asked who and what I was, I replied:  “I am a Christian.”  But he who presided said:  “Thou liest, thou art a follower of Cicero and not of Christ.  For ‘where thy treasure is, there will thy heart be also.’”  Instantly I became dumb, and amid the strokes of the lash—for he had ordered me to be scourged—I was tortured more severely still by the fire of conscience, considering with myself that verse, “In the grave who shall give thee thanks?”  Yet for all that I began to cry and to bewail myself, saying:  “Have mercy upon me, O Lord: have mercy upon me.”  Amid the sound of the scourges this cry still made itself heard.  At last the bystanders, falling down before the knees of him who presided, prayed that he would have pity on my youth, and that he would give me space to repent of my error.  He might still, they urged, inflict torture on me, should I ever again read the works of the Gentiles.  Under the stress of that awful moment I should have been ready to make even still larger promises than these.  Accordingly I made oath and called upon his name, saying:  “Lord, if ever again I possess worldly books, or if ever again I read such, I have denied Thee.”  Dismissed, then, on taking this oath, I returned to the upper world, and, to the surprise of all, I opened upon them eyes so drenched with tears that my distress served to convince even the incredulous. [13]

Ironically, despite his distressing dream-dealings with God, Jerome did not keep his vow.  The inconsistency between Jerome’s spiritual confrontation and subsequent action becomes apparent, as presented in R. R. Bolgar’s account:  “By 380 he was back in Constantinople and back too at his old habits, reading Greek books under the benevolent eye of Nazianzen; and it was a little while latter that he began his great Latin version of the Bible.  His old age was spent in a cloister near Bethlehem . . .  lecturing on pagan authors.” [14]   Jerome, like his friend Augustine, ultimately decided to strike a compromise between Jerusalem and Rome, with the former having the upper hand.  Rome—its people and its ways—would not be condemned, but converted.   

            The conversion of Roman methods toward Christian ends, namely Quintilian’s methods of language instruction for catechization, is exactly what Jerome achieved nearly twenty years after writing Letter XXII to Eustochium, as shown in Letter CVII.  The context for Letter CVII is similar to that of the earlier letter:  Laeta, a Christian mother committed to bringing up her infant daughter Paula as a virgin consecrated to Christ, sends a letter to Jerome asking for guidance; and the Church Father’s response is to give specific instructions for the girl’s formation.  But unlike the preceding letter, this epistle draws upon pagan educational methods for the girl’s training, especially in writing.

            Although no mention of Quintilian or his Institutio oratoria is made in the letter, several scholars recognize that the pagan pedagogue’s views are unmistakably present.  Among them are James J. Murphy, Charles Edgar Little, and F. H. Colson. [15] Although each detects Quintilian’s influence, none proffers a careful analysis of the letter. [16] The assessment of influence stands upon a dearth of solid evidence.  In what follows, I move beyond prima facie assertions to substantiate Jerome’s appropriation of specific ideas from the Institutio, giving proof that he converted Quintilian’s ideas and methods for Christian purposes. 

Jerome’s intent for the letter—Christian character formation—is clear from the outset.  He begins by citing the apostle Paul’s instruction in “sacred discipline” for the family, [17] emphasizing the importance of a child having believing parents. [18]   Directing his comments to Laeta, he writes, “You yourself are the offspring of a mixed marriage; but the parents of Paula—you and my friend Toxotius—are both Christians.” [19]   Next, Jerome considers Laeta’s father—Paula’s grandfather, described as “a man of the highest distinction and learning, but one still walking in darkness”—and he expresses his sincere hope for the man’s eventual conversion:  “I for my part think that, had he possessed so many Christian kinsfolk when he was a young man, he might then have been brought to believe in Christ.  For though he may spit upon my letter and laugh at it, and though he may call me a fool or a madman, his son-in-law did the same before he came to believe.” [20]   Jerome’s focus upon the unbelieving grandfather, Albinus, suggest three connections to Quintilian’s thought.  First, Jerome notes that although Albinus is learned and of great eminence—quite possibly a “good man” according to Quintilian’s standards—he is lacking faith in Christ, which to Jerome is essential.  Second, Jerome makes a clear contrast between Laeta’s father and her husband, the implicit message being that if “sweet fruit”—Laeta—can form from “bitter stock”—Albinus—with the sanctifying power of his believing wife [21] —Laeta’s mother, Paula—then even sweeter fruit can form from two parents who are believers; for Jerome, Quintilian’s requirement that a child’s parents adhere to high moral standards for the child’s own moral development is fulfilled in their genuine commitment to the Christian faith.  And third, as Jerome states, “The one unbeliever is sanctified by his holy and believing family,” echoing the words of the Apostle Paul in I Corinthians.  For Quintilian, a boy is formed into a “good man” by his association with other boys aspiring to be good men, and with teachers who are already good men; for Jerome, too, transformation takes place through association with those who are “good,” but in this case the “good” are Spirit-filled believers who are growing in the faith. 

            From the start of his letter to Laeta, Jerome is making an argument similar to Quintilian’s in the Institutio, yet in important ways distinct.  Both believe that education is essential as a means of forming or making the kind of person who will best serve their respective communities and uphold their respective beliefs and cultures.  Quintilian, drawing from an orator who came before him, Marcus Cato, asserts the central tenet of his educational program, expressed at the beginning of his work:  “We are to form, then, the perfect orator, who cannot exist unless he is above all a good man.” [22]   Jerome, in a similar fashion to his pagan predecessor, and drawing from a bold Church Father who came before him, Tertullian, asserts the central tenet of his educational program, expressed at the beginning of his letter:  “Christians are not born but made.” [23] Vital to both of their respective forming or making processes is the acquisition and use of language.

            The first of many parallels, though in this particular case not necessarily an influence, comes in the form of the impetus for each author’s work, and the method of response to the prompt.  Quintilian writes the Institutio at the behest of his friend Marcellus Victorius, for the instruction of his young son, Geta; and Jerome, as already mentioned, writes at the behest of Laeta, for the instruction of her infant daughter, Paula.  Both men, to state the obvious, use writing as a means to teach others how to teach.  Though the difference in length between the two authors’ finished pieces is immense, the effect is similar:  the creation of a written text to provide a systematic guide for forming a person’s character.

            Jerome, mirroring Quintilian, emphasizes the impressionable nature of young children, especially regarding spoken words.  “Thus must a soul be educated which is to be a temple of God,” he writes.  “It must learn to hear nothing and to say nothing but what belongs to the fear of God.  It must have no understanding of unclean words, and no knowledge of the world’s songs.” [24]   While Quintilian does not conceive of the body as a repository for the Holy Spirit, to be kept from unholy things, he does adhere to the notion that the nature of a child can be tainted by unwholesome language, and thus he counsels against immoral nurses who might speak profanely in the presence of the young orator-to-be.  “To their [the nurses’] morals, doubtless, attention is first to be paid,” he writes.  “It is their words that he will hear first; it is their words that he will try to form by imitation.  We are by nature most tenacious of what we have imbibed in our infant years, as the flavor, with which you scent vessels when new, remains in them.” [25]   For these very reasons, expressed first by Quintilian, Jerome also challenges Laeta not to allow young Paula to fall prey to “boys with their wanton thoughts”; and he warns, too, of the danger impending if her maids and female attendants are not isolated from “worldly associates.”  Jerome assures Laeta, “For if they have learned some mischief they may teach more.” [26]  

            The encouragement for Laeta to use carved letters represents Quintilian’s most apparent effect upon Jerome’s catechizing methods.  “Get for her a set of letters made of boxwood or of ivory and called each by its proper name.” [27]   As with Quintilian, who states that the beneficial properties of such letters lies in their simultaneous ability to delight and stimulate learning, [28] Jerome states, “Let her play with these, so that even her play may teach her something.” [29]   Slightly modifying the old Roman rhetorician’s advice, that children should not “learn the names and order of the letters before they learn their shapes,” [30] Jerome advocates that Laeta “Not only make her grasp the right order of the letters and see that she forms their names into a rhyme, but constantly disarrange their order and put the last letters in the middle and the middle ones at the beginning that she may know them all by sight as well as sound.” [31]   The key concern for both teachers is that this method of memorizing the alphabet not become too overpowering a mnemonic device, one in which the sing-song of the ordered repetition renders the mind ineffective for instances of dislocated recollection.

            Once the rudiments of alphabet learning are procured, the child is ready to move on to the activity of writing, which for Jerome represents a significant step.  Here, again, Jerome’s directives look uncannily familiar.  “So soon as she begins to use the style upon the wax, and her hand is still faltering, either guide her soft fingers by laying your hand upon hers, or else have simple copies cut upon a tablet; so that her efforts confined within these limits may keep to the lines traced out for her and not stray outside of these.” [32]   The marked likeness to Quintilian’s counsel, even in phrasing, proves to be further evidence of Jerome’s indebtedness. [33] And just as orthography and positive reinforcement for excellent work are matters of concern for Quintilian, [34] Jerome emphasizes the same:  “Offer prizes for good spelling and draw her onwards with little gifts such as children of her age delight in.” [35]   Furthermore, he believes that the child should be motivated by the presence of other children who are learning their lessons alongside her; their receiving of praise will spur her onward to better work [36]   Quintilian, of course, would agree; he advocates the sort of socializing education that takes place in a classroom versus that which takes place with a single tutor. [37] However, whereas Quintilian underscores the necessity of having the child write sentences from models that “convey some moral instruction,” [38] Jerome takes this a step further—converting it toward a Christian end—by encouraging the use of examples from the Bible:  “Let her treasures be not silks or gems but manuscripts of the holy scriptures; and in these let her think less of gilding, and Babylonian parchment, and arabesque patterns, than of correctness and accurate punctuation.” [39]   The Bible, as he points out, will mold Paula in many ways:  from Proverbs she will learn the “rules of life,” from Ecclesiastes “the habit of despising the world and its vanities,” and from Job “virtue and patience.” [40]

In addition to the books of the Bible, Jerome, like Quintilian, [41] offers a list of model works to be read for enrichment; his list, though, is minuscule in comparison.  Paula should read Cyprian’s writings, the letters of Athanasius, and the treatises of Hilary. [42]   However she must avoid the apocryphal writings because, as he cautions, “it requires infinite discretion to look for gold in the midst of dirt.” [43]   Certainly, just as Quintilian expresses a bias in favor of Roman authors, Jerome expresses his preference toward Christian writers.  Still, he adds, “Let her take pleasure in the works and wits of all in whose books a due regard for the faith is not neglected.  But if she reads the works of others let it be rather to judge them than to follow them.” [44]

            Of course, Paula’s facility with speaking and writing will come, to a large degree, according to the guidance and instruction she receives from a worthy teacher who embodies the very abilities and character traits which she herself is striving to attain.  Jerome and Quintilian both place a premium upon the teacher as the linchpin of the educational operation of formation.  Writing to Laeta, Jerome cautions, “You must choose for her a master of approved years, life, and learning.  A man of culture will not, I think, blush to do for a kinswoman or a highborn virgin what Aristotle did for Philip’s son when, descending to the level of an usher, he consented to teach him his letters.” [45]   Unlike some twenty years before, when he was writing his cautionary remarks to Eustochium about the dangers of pagan literature, especially the rhetoric of Cicero, now Jerome does not hesitate to reach back into pagan history for an illustration of the ideal—that of the relationship between the famous Greek teacher of the Peripatetic School and his no-less famous student, Alexander the Great. [46] His illustration conveys the truth that the right sort of teacher will not simply be competent and virtuous; he will also be patient and dedicated, never despising the rudiments of instruction, but recognizing, with Quintilian, that attention to small things yields great results. [47]

            As the stylus functions to etch lasting impressions upon the wax board, Jerome’s teacher of letters must also act in such a way as to make upon the student lasting impressions.  The one who inculcates knowledge, skills and values, as Quintilian knew, must have a thesis in mind—an educational directive.  The import of Jerome’s thesis—“Christian’s are not born but made”—is reiterated at the close of his letter to Laeta when he makes a costly offer to partake in, what is to him, the most precious endeavor—the formation of a faith-filled follower of Christ.  It is interesting to note that the conclusion to the letter, which follows, has much of the paternal and tender tone of Quintilian’s writing [48] :

If you will only send Paula, I promise to be myself both a tutor and a foster father to her.  Old as I am I will carry her on my shoulders and train her stammering lips; and my charge will be a far grander one than that of the worldly philosopher; for while he only taught a King of Macedon who was one day to die of Babylonian poison, I shall instruct the handmaid and spouse of Christ who must one day be offered to her Lord in heaven. [49]               

Where once Jerome took pride in rejecting and condemning the Greco-Roman culture and its potential offerings to the Christian community, throughout his epistle to Laeta, and especially here at the end, he shows a transformed perspective:  it is now fit to accept, to modify, and to transcend the store of knowledge offered from the Greco-Roman past.  The surpassing glory of Aristotle’s labor—to make a great king—is fulfilled in Jerome’s labor to form a servant of Christ the King.  By willingly offering to teach and to guide Paula in her catechesis, Jerome is demonstrating his obedience to the mandate of Jesus found at the end of the gospel of Matthew:  “Go and make disciples…teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you.” [50] Jerome fulfills this Great Commission, especially in Paula’s case, with the help of his pagan predecessor, and in the process of converting the Roman rhetorician’s pedagogy, Jerome demonstrates that he is not only a follower of Christ, but of Quintilian as well.