Two Church Historians Who Wrote the Story of Christianity’s Imperial Transformation
Introduction to the Work and Its Authors
We begin with the opening pages, where the author—the fifth-century church historian Socrates Scholasticus—introduces himself and his project. This is not a single work by a single hand but a composite volume that pairs Socrates’ *Historia Ecclesiastica* with the parallel history of his contemporary Sozomen, another lawyer-historian writing in Constantinople. The editors of this edition have placed the two histories side by side, allowing the reader to compare how two observers of the same events rendered them differently.
Socrates opens by explaining why he writes. He notes that previous church historians, most notably Eusebius of Caesarea, had carried the story of the Christian church only as far as the reign of Constantine. Eusebius ended his work around 324 AD, just as Constantine was consolidating his sole rule. But the story did not stop there. The church entered a new phase—a period of intense theological conflict, imperial intervention, and institutional consolidation. Socrates declares that he intends to continue the narrative from where Eusebius left off, covering the years from Constantine to his own day, roughly 439 AD. He writes, he says, as a truthful observer, not a partisan. He claims to have drawn on letters, synodical decrees, and the testimony of living witnesses.
What is immediately striking is the self-consciousness of Socrates as a historian. He is aware that he is constructing a narrative from sources that are often contradictory. He acknowledges that different parties in the church remember events differently, and he promises to weigh evidence carefully. This methodological awareness sets him apart from many earlier chroniclers, who simply repeated what they had been told. Socrates presents himself as a critical investigator, someone who wants to get the story right even when the story is messy.
Book I: From Constantine to the Council of Nicaea
We move into the body of the history, Book I, where Socrates recounts the final years of the Diocletianic persecution and the rise of Constantine. The narrative opens with the emperor Galerius, who in 311 AD issued an edict of toleration—a deathbed reversal after years of persecution. Socrates reports that Galerius, stricken by a horrifying illness, finally conceded that the Christians had done nothing wrong and that their God was perhaps real after all. The edict allowed Christians to exist legally, though it did not restore their property or status.
But the key moment comes with Constantine’s rise. Socrates tells the story of Constantine’s vision of the cross with the words “In this sign, conquer”—a story already famous by his day, but which he retells with care. He then describes Constantine’s defeat of Maxentius at the Milvian Bridge in 312, and the emperor’s subsequent embrace of Christianity. Socrates presents Constantine as a divinely chosen instrument, a ruler whom God raised up specifically to end persecution and unite the empire under the Christian faith.
“The emperor Constantine, having thus become master of the whole Roman world, began to show great favor to the Christians, and to bestow many honors upon them.”
This passage is crucial because it establishes the theological-political framework of the entire work. Socrates sees the empire and the church as now intertwined. Constantine’s conversion is not merely a personal decision but a cosmic event: the empire that once persecuted the church now protects it. The historian’s task is to trace how this new relationship works out in practice—how bishops and emperors cooperate, clash, and shape each other. The passage also reveals Socrates’ deference to imperial authority: he does not question Constantine’s motives or the authenticity of his vision. The emperor is a figure of providential history, and the historian’s role is to record his deeds, not to criticize them.
Book I: The Arian Controversy Begins
Socrates now turns to the event that dominates his entire history: the Arian controversy. He introduces Arius, a presbyter of Alexandria who began teaching that the Son of God was not co-eternal with the Father but was created by the Father before time—a being of similar but not identical substance. Socrates reports that Bishop Alexander of Alexandria excommunicated Arius for this teaching, but that Arius gained powerful supporters, including bishops in Syria and Asia Minor. The dispute quickly spread beyond Egypt, threatening to tear the church apart.
Constantine, alarmed by the division, summoned the first ecumenical council at Nicaea in 325 AD. Socrates describes the council in detail: about 318 bishops assembled, the emperor presided, and after heated debate the council condemned Arius and produced the Nicene Creed, which declared the Son “homoousios”—of the same substance—with the Father. Socrates notes that only two bishops refused to sign, and they were exiled along with Arius.
But Socrates does not present this as a clean victory for orthodoxy. He shows that the controversy continued almost immediately. Arius and his supporters began a campaign to rehabilitate themselves. They argued that their position had been misunderstood, that they did not deny the Son’s divinity, only his equality. Some bishops who had signed the creed began to waver or to reinterpret it in ways that diluted its force. Constantine himself, influenced by court bishops sympathetic to Arius, eventually recalled Arius from exile and ordered his restoration to communion.
“Thus the peace of the church was again troubled, and the flame of discord, which had been smothered for a time, burst forth with greater vehemence than before.”
This is a signature Socratic theme: the fragility of ecclesiastical peace. Again and again in his history, councils and creeds fail to settle disputes. The Nicene Creed, which later generations would regard as the bedrock of orthodoxy, did not end the Arian controversy; it merely shifted the terms of the debate. Socrates shows that theological conflict is not resolved by authoritative pronouncements but by political maneuvering, personal rivalries, and changing imperial favor. The church is not a harmonious body but a field of contention, and the historian’s job is to chart that contention honestly.
Book I: Constantine’s Later Years and the Arian Reaction
As Book I continues, Socrates traces the aftermath of Nicaea through the 330s. Constantine, growing older and more autocratic, became increasingly involved in church affairs—not always wisely. Socrates recounts the exiles and rehabilitations of various bishops: Athanasius, the young bishop of Alexandria who succeeded Alexander and became the fiercest defender of the Nicene faith, was deposed by a synod of Eastern bishops and sent into exile. Eusebius of Nicomedia, a leading Arian sympathizer, was restored to favor and eventually baptized Constantine on his deathbed.
Socrates presents these events with a mixture of admiration and unease. He does not openly criticize Constantine, but the narrative makes clear that the emperor’s interventions often made things worse. The church became a tool of imperial policy. Bishops lobbied for imperial favor, and emperors used bishops to enforce unity. The result was a series of shifting alliances that left ordinary Christians confused and divided.
A telling moment comes when Socrates describes Constantine’s death in 337. The emperor was baptized by Eusebius of Nicomedia, an Arian bishop, just before his death. Socrates notes this fact without comment, but the implication is clear: the great champion of Nicaea ended his life in the hands of those who opposed it. The emperor’s personal faith, it seems, was less settled than his public pronouncements suggested. Socrates does not pursue this implication, but it hangs over the narrative: even the most powerful Christian emperor could not control the meaning of his own faith.
Book II: The Sons of Constantine and the Arian Ascendancy
We enter Book II, which covers the reign of Constantine’s sons—Constantine II, Constans, and Constantius II. The empire was divided among them, and with the division came a fragmentation of ecclesiastical policy. The Eastern churches, under Constantius, leaned heavily toward Arianism; the Western churches, under Constans, remained Nicene. Socrates describes the chaos that followed: rival bishops claiming the same sees, synods that anathematized each other, and the growing power of court eunuchs and palace officials who manipulated church appointments.
The central figure of this book is Athanasius, the exiled bishop of Alexandria. Socrates devotes long passages to Athanasius’s flight from Egypt, his appeals to the Western emperor Constans, and his eventual restoration to his see. But that restoration did not last. Under pressure from Constantius, Athanasius was again deposed and again forced to flee. Socrates reports that Constantius, determined to impose Arian uniformity, summoned councils at Arles and Milan that condemned Athanasius and declared the Nicene Creed obsolete.
“The emperor Constantius, being now sole ruler of the Roman world, openly favored the Arian doctrines, and persecuted those who adhered to the Nicene faith.”
This is a turning point in the narrative. For the first time, Socrates explicitly describes an emperor as persecuting orthodox Christians. Constantius is not a pagan emperor like Diocletian, but a Christian emperor who uses state power against other Christians. Socrates does not call Constantius a tyrant, but the parallel is unmistakable: the church now faces a threat from within the imperial household itself. The imperialization of church conflict means that theological disputes become matters of life and death. Bishops are exiled, churches are seized, and ordinary believers are forced to choose between their faith and their loyalty to the emperor.
What makes Socrates’ account so striking is his refusal to take sides simply. He records the arguments of both the Arians and the Nicenes. He notes that many of the Arian bishops were learned men, that some of their criticisms of Athanasius were plausible, and that the controversy was not simply a battle between truth and error but a complex struggle for power. This evenhandedness is not indifference; it is a historian’s commitment to showing how events actually unfolded. Socrates wants the reader to see that the triumph of Nicene orthodoxy, which later became the official story, was not inevitable. It was the result of decades of political struggle, lucky breaks, and the eventual victory of pro-Nicene emperors.
Book II: The Synod of Sardica and the Fragmentation of the Church
Socrates now describes the Synod of Sardica in 343, an attempt by both Eastern and Western bishops to reconcile the Nicene and Arian factions. The synod was a disaster. The Eastern bishops refused to sit with the Western bishops, accusing them of harboring Athanasius. Both sides issued rival decrees, excommunicated each other, and went home. The schism between East and West became formal.
Socrates reports the letters and counter-letters with meticulous care. He quotes from the synodical decrees, showing how each side justified its position. The Western bishops insisted that the Nicene faith was the apostolic faith; the Eastern bishops argued that the term “homoousios” was unscriptural and divisive. Neither side would yield. The result was a dual episcopacy: many cities now had two bishops, one Nicene and one Arian, each claiming legitimacy.
This section of the work is particularly valuable because it shows Socrates’ method as a documentary historian. He does not simply summarize events; he reproduces the actual texts of letters, creeds, and canons. He wants the reader to see the evidence for themselves. This practice reflects his legal training—Socrates was a lawyer in Constantinople—and his belief that history should be grounded in verifiable sources. It also gives his work a texture that more narrative histories lack. The reader hears the voices of the fourth-century bishops arguing with each other, and the arguments feel alive.
Book III: The Reign of Constantius and the Ascendancy of Arianism
We move into the reign of Constantius II as sole emperor, following the death of his brother Constans. This section covers approximately the years 350–361, and Socrates presents it as the period when Arianism reached its greatest influence over imperial policy. The narrative structure shifts: where earlier books tracked events across multiple emperors and regions, Book III focuses almost entirely on Constantius’s interventions in church affairs. Socrates is building toward a portrait of an emperor who, in his view, corrupted the church by forcing doctrinal uniformity through imperial power.
The key passage comes early in Book III, where Socrates describes Constantius’s character and his relation to the church:
“Constantius, being of a more sluggish disposition than his brother, and not possessing the same degree of intelligence, was easily imposed upon by those who were around him. He was also greatly under the influence of the empress Eusebia, who was devoted to the Arian heresy.”
This is a carefully weighted judgment. Socrates does not accuse Constantius of personal wickedness—he describes him as sluggish and easily deceived rather than malicious. The blame is distributed: the Arian bishops who surrounded the emperor exploited his weakness, and the empress Eusebia provided a channel of influence within the palace. This characterization matters for the broader argument Socrates is making. If Constantius had been a tyrant by nature, the story would be one of simple persecution. Instead, it becomes a story about how theological error spreads through institutional corruption and personal weakness. The emperor becomes a tool rather than a prime mover, which allows Socrates to maintain his view that the Nicene faith was suppressed not by superior argument but by political pressure and court intrigue.
Socrates then narrates the series of councils under Constantius that attempted to produce a creed acceptable to the Arian party while avoiding the outright condemnation of Nicaea. The first of these is the Council of Sirmium in 351, which produced a creed that Socrates reproduces in full. He describes the council as having been convened to condemn Photinus, a bishop who taught a form of monarchianism, but the Arian bishops used the occasion to advance their own agenda. The crucial move comes when Socrates explains that the council’s creed, while apparently orthodox in its language, used ambiguous terms that could be interpreted in a subordinationist sense. This is a recurring theme in Socrates’s narrative: the Arians rarely deny the Son’s divinity outright; they instead redefine it through careful wording.
Book III: The Council of Sirmium and the Blasphemy of Photinus
Socrates continues by detailing the theological maneuvering at Sirmium, where the Arian bishops attempted to produce a creed that would satisfy Constantius while avoiding the specific terminology of Nicaea. He reproduces the so-called “Blasphemy of Sirmium” in full, showing how each article was crafted to exclude the Nicene formula without explicitly attacking it.
The passage that captures the method is Socrates’s description of how the creed was received:
“The bishops of the West refused to accept this formulary, declaring that it was a mere evasion, and a re-opening of questions which had been already settled at Nicaea. But the Eastern bishops, partly from fear of the emperor, partly from a desire to please the dominant party, subscribed to it.”
This division between East and West is a structural feature of Socrates’s narrative that becomes more pronounced in Book III. The Western bishops, operating at a greater distance from Constantius’s court, maintained the Nicene position more consistently. The Eastern bishops, under the emperor’s direct scrutiny, compromised. Socrates does not present this as a matter of theological conviction—he makes clear that fear of the emperor was the decisive factor. The passage thus reinforces his central claim that the Arian controversy was ultimately a political struggle fought through theological language. The creed itself mattered less than the power dynamics behind it.
Socrates’s treatment of the Council of Sirmium also illustrates his method as a documentary historian. He reproduces the creed verbatim, then provides a running commentary on each clause, showing how it departs from the Nicene formula. He is training his reader to recognize theological ambiguity and to see how language can be used to obscure rather than clarify doctrine. This is not merely an antiquarian interest; Socrates believes that the same dynamics are at work in his own time, and that the reader who understands the fourth-century controversies will be equipped to recognize analogous patterns in the fifth.
Book III: The Exile of Athanasius and the Siege of Alexandria
The narrative now returns to Athanasius, who had remained in Alexandria through the early years of Constantius’s sole reign. Socrates recounts how the emperor, urged by the Arian bishops, decided to remove Athanasius by force. The account of the siege of Alexandria is one of the most dramatic passages in the entire work.
Socrates writes:
“The emperor, therefore, sent Syrianus, the general of the Egyptian troops, with orders to drive Athanasius out of the city. Syrianus, entering the city at night with a large body of soldiers, surrounded the church where Athanasius was engaged in prayer. The doors were broken open, the soldiers rushed in with drawn swords, and a great slaughter ensued among the people.”
The detail is vivid and specific: the night assault, the broken doors, the slaughter of worshippers. Socrates is not merely recording an event; he is constructing a scene that demonstrates the violence that results when imperial power is used to settle religious disputes. Athanasius escapes—Socrates says he was miraculously preserved by God—but the church is desecrated and the people are killed. The passage serves several purposes. It confirms Socrates’s judgment of Constantius as a ruler who allowed his authority to be used for persecution. It elevates Athanasius as a figure of resistance and divine favor. And it shows the human cost of the theological controversies that Socrates has been documenting through creeds and council documents.
What follows is a careful legal argument. Socrates notes that the attack on the church was a violation of the edicts that Constantine himself had issued, guaranteeing the peace of the church. Constantius, by permitting it, had betrayed his father’s legacy. This is a subtle but important move: Socrates does not argue that Constantius was a bad emperor in general, but that he was a bad emperor specifically because he violated the norms of religious toleration that Constantine had established. The implication is that imperial authority over the church must be exercised for peace, not for partisan advantage.
Book III: The Council of Milan and the Imprisonment of Liberius
From Alexandria, the narrative shifts to the West, where Constantius attempted to force the Nicene bishops to accept the Sirmian creed. Socrates focuses on two figures: Pope Liberius of Rome and Hosius of Cordova, the aged bishop who had presided at Nicaea. Their treatment at the hands of Constantius becomes a test case for the integrity of the Nicene party.
Socrates describes the Council of Milan in 355, where Constantius personally pressured the bishops to condemn Athanasius:
“The emperor, being present at the council, used every means to induce the bishops to pronounce sentence of condemnation upon Athanasius. Some, terrified by his threats, complied; others, who refused, were sent into exile. Among these were Liberius, bishop of Rome, and Hosius of Cordova.”
The passage is notable for what it does not say. Socrates does not present this as a theological debate; there is no discussion of doctrine at Milan. The issue is simply submission to imperial will. The bishops are asked to condemn Athanasius, not to accept any particular creed. Constantius, in Socrates’s telling, has reduced the theological controversy to a test of loyalty. The bishops who refuse are exiled, not because they hold heretical views, but because they will not obey.
The treatment of Liberius receives extended treatment. Socrates recounts how the pope was taken to Sirmium, where he was pressured for two years to submit. Eventually, Liberius signed a creed that omitted the Nicene term *homoousios*, and he was allowed to return to Rome. Socrates records this with evident regret but does not exculpate Liberius:
“Thus Liberius, overcome by the weariness of his exile, subscribed to the Arian creed, and was permitted to return to Rome. But the people of Rome, who were strongly attached to the Nicene faith, refused to receive him, and continued to adhere to Felix, who had been appointed bishop in his place.”
This is a complex moment. Socrates clearly sympathizes with the Nicene cause, but he does not suppress the embarrassing fact that even the bishop of Rome had compromised. The response of the Roman people—rejecting a pope who had signed a heterodox creed—becomes a model of lay resistance to episcopal compromise. Socrates is showing that orthodoxy was preserved not by the hierarchy alone but by the faithful people, who understood the issues better than their leaders. This theme of lay orthodoxy resisting clerical betrayal recurs throughout the work and reflects Socrates’s own position as a layman writing church history.
Book IV: The Reign of Julian and the Pagan Revival
With Book IV, the narrative enters a new phase. Constantius dies in 361, and his successor Julian pursues an entirely different religious policy: the restoration of paganism. Socrates’s treatment of Julian is among the most sustained character portraits in the work.
He writes:
“Julian, having been brought up in the Christian faith, had become a proficient in the Holy Scriptures; but having afterwards studied the works of the pagan philosophers, he conceived a contempt for Christianity, and became an apostate.”
This opening judgment sets the terms for everything that follows. Julian is not a pagan by birth or tradition; he is a Christian who rejected his faith after intellectual exposure to pagan philosophy. Socrates presents this as a kind of betrayal, and the charge is sharpened by Socrates’s own education—he was trained in rhetoric and philosophy himself, and he knew how seductive the pagan intellectual tradition could be. But where other Christians might have abandoned their faith after similar exposure, Julian’s apostasy is presented as a moral failure, not an intellectual one.
Socrates’s account of Julian’s reign follows a double structure. On one level, Julian is a competent and even admirable ruler: he reformed the administration, reduced taxes, and pursued just policies. Socrates does not deny these achievements. On another level, Julian is a persecutor of the church, though his methods are subtler than those of his predecessors. He did not execute Christians, but he removed them from government positions, restricted their educational opportunities, and actively promoted paganism.
The key passage comes when Socrates describes Julian’s educational edict:
“Julian forbade Christians to teach the liberal sciences, or to instruct youth in the works of the poets and philosophers. For he said, ‘If they are followers of the Galilean, let them confine themselves to the exposition of their own Scriptures.'”
Socrates recognizes this as a devastating attack on Christian intellectual life. By barring Christians from teaching the classical curriculum, Julian was attempting to exclude them from the cultural life of the empire. The passage is also ironic: Julian quotes Christian Scripture to argue against Christian participation in pagan learning. Socrates’s response is to argue that the classical tradition is not intrinsically pagan—it is a neutral body of knowledge that Christians can and should use. He himself is a product of that educational system, and his own work is filled with classical references.
Book IV: The Persian Campaign and the Death of Julian
The narrative of Julian’s reign culminates in his Persian campaign. Socrates provides a detailed military history, drawing on contemporary sources. Julian’s ambition was to emulate Alexander the Great by conquering the Persian Empire. Socrates makes clear that this ambition was both reckless and impious.
The death of Julian is described in terms that combine military reportage with theological judgment:
“When the army was in great distress for want of provisions, Julian, being anxious to relieve his soldiers, advanced too rashly against the enemy, and received a wound in his side from a javelin. He died shortly after, having reigned three years.”
Socrates does not directly say that Julian’s death was divine punishment, but the narrative structure makes the connection clear. Julian’s campaign was undertaken without God’s favor; he ignored the warnings of his advisors; he took unnecessary risks. The wound is inflicted by an unnamed soldier—Socrates mentions rumors that it was a Christian in Julian’s own army, but he does not endorse the story. The effect is to present Julian’s death as the natural consequence of his hubris rather than a miraculous intervention.
The passage that follows is Socrates’s reflection on Julian’s character:
“Thus perished Julian, a man who, if he had not abandoned the Christian faith, would have been one of the best of emperors. He was a man of great learning, of a commendable life, and of an excellent disposition; but the perversity of his opinions rendered all his virtues useless.”
This is the closest Socrates comes to praising a non-Christian emperor, and the praise is carefully hedged. Julian’s virtues are real but insufficient because they are not directed toward the true God. The judgment is moral rather than doctrinal: Julian’s apostasy is a perversion of his soul that corrupts his otherwise admirable qualities. Socrates is writing for an audience that might be tempted to admire Julian’s classical learning and his administrative reforms. He acknowledges those qualities but insists that they do not outweigh the fundamental error of his apostasy.
Book IV: The Election of Jovian and the Restoration of Nicene Orthodoxy
Julian’s death leaves the empire without a clear successor. Socrates narrates how the army chose Jovian, a Christian general, as emperor. The transition is presented as a restoration of the proper order.
Socrates writes:
“Jovian, being proclaimed emperor, immediately declared himself a Christian, and expressed his intention of supporting the Nicene faith. He recalled the bishops who had been exiled by Constantius, and restored the churches to those who held the orthodox doctrine.”
The passage is brief but decisive. Socrates does not elaborate on Jovian’s theological views; what matters is his policy. The recall of the exiled bishops reverses the persecution of the Nicene party that had been the dominant theme of the previous decades. The restoration of churches to orthodox bishops reverses the alienation of property that had accompanied the Arian ascendancy. The implication is clear: imperial policy can either protect or harm the church, and the best emperors are those who support the Nicene faith without interference.
Socrates then reproduces the letter that Jovian sent to Athanasius, inviting him to return to Alexandria. The letter is brief and direct: “To the most holy and blessed Athanasius, Jovian Augustus.” It expresses the emperor’s desire for peace in the church and his hope that Athanasius will help restore unity. Socrates includes this letter as a document of the restored relationship between the empire and the church.
But even this moment of triumph is complicated. Socrates notes that Jovian reigned for only eight months, and that his death left the church once again vulnerable. The pattern of imperial intervention, doctrinal controversy, and political manipulation is not broken; it is merely interrupted. Socrates is writing his history in the early fifth century, long after Jovian’s death, and he knows that the controversies will continue. The work’s structure—alternating between periods of persecution and periods of peace—reflects a view of history as cyclical rather than linear. The church is never permanently secure, and each generation must defend the faith anew.
Book V: The Reign of Valens and the Arian Persecution
We now enter one of the most harrowing sections of the work, as Socrates turns from the brief respite of Jovian’s reign to the prolonged and systematic persecution of Nicene Christians under the emperor Valens. Where Constantius had promoted Arianism through political maneuvering and ecclesiastical councils, Valens pursues a more direct and violent course. Socrates situates us in the eastern empire after the death of Jovian, with Valens ruling from Constantinople and his brother Valentinian governing the West. The key historical claim here is that Valens, having been baptized by an Arian bishop, becomes the instrument of Arian vengeance against the Nicene party.
Socrates presents a passage that crystallizes the nature of Valens’s rule: he relates that the emperor issued an edict requiring all bishops who had been exiled under Constantius and restored under Jovian to be once again driven from their sees. The historian records that Valens “commanded that all who adhered to the Nicene faith should be expelled from the churches.” This is not a theological dispute conducted through councils and creeds; it is a purge, carried out by imperial force against clergy and laity alike. The language of the edict makes no pretense at theological reasoning—it is a straightforward political decree aimed at eliminating opposition.
What Socrates illuminates through this episode is the transformation of Arianism from a theological position into a mechanism of state control. The Nicene party is not being persecuted because its doctrines have been refuted; it is being persecuted because it represents an independent ecclesial authority that resists imperial domination. Valens, in Socrates’s telling, understands that the Nicene bishops who resisted Constantius will resist him as well. The exile of bishops is therefore not merely a religious policy but a preemptive strike against any potential challenge to imperial authority. Socrates’s careful documentation of the names, dates, and locations of these exiles serves to create a record that will withstand the official narrative of the Arian court.
Book V: The Exile of Basil and the Resistance of the Nicene Party
As Socrates continues through the reign of Valens, he focuses on individual figures who embody the Nicene resistance. The most prominent of these is Basil the Great, bishop of Caesarea, whose struggle with the emperor forms a dramatic centerpiece of this book. Socrates presents Basil as a figure of extraordinary courage and theological precision, a man who stands before the emperor not as a supplicant but as an equal. The historian’s portrait of Basil is carefully constructed to contrast with the Arian bishops who surround Valens—where they are servile and manipulative, Basil is forthright and principled.
The key passage at this point in the narrative concerns Valens’s attempt to force Basil into communion with the Arians. Socrates records that the emperor sent the prefect Modestus to threaten Basil with confiscation of property, exile, and death. Basil’s response, as Socrates presents it, is a masterwork of theological defiance: he tells Modestus that confiscation means nothing to a man who owns nothing but his cloak and a few books, that exile is meaningless because the earth belongs to God, and that death would only hasten his union with Christ. The prefect, astonished, reports back to Valens that no threat can move this man. The passage is structured as a set piece, a confrontation between imperial power and Christian conviction that recalls the martyrologies of earlier centuries.
Socrates’s illumination of this episode reveals its deeper significance for his historical project. Basil’s resistance is not merely a personal triumph; it is a demonstration that the church possesses a power that the empire cannot coerce. Valens, who commands armies and controls the treasury, is powerless before a bishop who has renounced property, status, and the fear of death. The Arian controversy, which began as a dispute about the nature of Christ, has now become a test of whether the church can exist as an independent body within the Christian empire. Basil’s answer—and Socrates’s answer through him—is that the church’s authority derives from Christ, not from Caesar, and that no emperor can compel the conscience of a bishop who understands this.
Book V: The Persecution of the Novatians and the Diversity of Suffering
A remarkable feature of Socrates’s account of Valens is his attention to the persecution not only of Nicene Christians but of other dissenting groups, particularly the Novatians. Socrates himself, as is well known, was a Novatian, and his treatment of this material reveals both his personal commitments and his historiographical principles. He records that Valens’s persecution extended to the Novatians because they shared the Nicene doctrine of the Trinity, and that many Novatian clergy were exiled alongside their orthodox counterparts. This is a subtle but important point: Valens persecutes not only theological opponents but also potential allies, revealing that his Arianism is less a theological position than a mechanism of control.
Socrates presents a specific incident that illustrates the shared suffering of Nicenes and Novatians. He tells of a Novatian bishop named Agelius who was driven from Constantinople and forced into hiding, and who continued to lead his flock secretly despite the threat of arrest. The historian’s account emphasizes that Agelius did not compromise his faith or seek any accommodation with the Arian regime. Socrates is careful to note that Agelius’s resistance was recognized and honored by the Nicene party, even though the two groups remained in schism over questions of discipline and the readmission of the lapsed. This detail serves to complicate any simple narrative of orthodox resistance versus heretical persecution.
What Socrates illuminates through this material is a vision of the church that transcends partisan boundaries. The Valens persecution creates a community of suffering that brings together Nicenes, Novatians, and even some of the more moderate Arian parties who resist the emperor’s extremism. Socrates the Novatian is writing a history that includes his own tradition’s martyrs, but he does so without polemic against the Nicene majority. Instead, he presents the persecution as a common trial that tests the fidelity of all Christians, regardless of their ecclesiastical affiliation. This inclusive vision is one of the most distinctive and theologically significant aspects of Socrates’s work, and it stands in marked contrast to the more sectarian histories that would follow.
Book V: The Revolt of Procopius and the Political Crisis of Valens
As Socrates moves through the middle years of Valens’s reign, he interrupts his ecclesiastical narrative to describe a major political crisis: the revolt of Procopius, a relative of the emperor Julian who raised an army and challenged Valens’s control of the eastern empire. This seemingly digressive material is essential to Socrates’s argument that the church’s fate is inseparable from the stability of the empire. The revolt of Procopius, Socrates suggests, was a direct consequence of Valens’s persecution of the church—the emperor had alienated his subjects by attacking the faith of the majority, and this created the conditions for rebellion.
The passage Socrates presents concerning Procopius is striking in its analysis of cause and effect. He records that the Arian bishops who surrounded Valens assured him that God would protect his reign, but that when the revolt broke out, these same bishops were unable to offer any real assistance. The emperor was forced to rely on military force and political negotiation, and even then he barely survived the challenge. Socrates’s point is not merely that the Arian bishops were wrong—it is that their entire approach to the relationship between church and state was fundamentally misguided. A church that exists to bless the emperor regardless of his actions becomes useless when the emperor actually needs spiritual support.
Socrates’s illumination of this political crisis reveals the deeper logic of his historical narrative. He is arguing that the Arian emperors—Constantius, Valens—undermined their own authority by persecuting the church. The Nicene bishops who resist imperial coercion are not rebels; they are the true supporters of imperial stability because they maintain the independence of the church and thus preserve its capacity to speak truth to power. Socrates is writing a history that is simultaneously a theological argument and a political analysis, demonstrating that the health of the empire depends on the freedom of the church. The revolt of Procopius is the empirical evidence for this claim: Valens’s persecution divided his realm, and only a ruler who respects the church’s autonomy can hope to govern peacefully.
Book V: The Gothic War and the Death of Valens
The climax of Book V is Socrates’s account of the Gothic War and the death of Valens at the Battle of Adrianople in 378. This is one of the most dramatic and theologically charged episodes in the entire work, as Socrates presents the emperor’s destruction as divine judgment for his persecution of the church. The historian’s narrative is carefully constructed to emphasize the providential dimension of the catastrophe: Valens, who had driven Nicene bishops from their churches, is himself driven from the field of battle and burned alive in a hut where he sought refuge. The imagery is unmistakable—the persecutor becomes the victim, and the judgment he attempted to impose on others falls upon himself.
Socrates presents a passage of extraordinary precision in his description of Valens’s death. He records that the emperor, wounded and fleeing the Gothic cavalry, took shelter in a small farmhouse. The Goths, not knowing who was inside, set the building on fire, and Valens perished in the flames. The historian adds the detail that Valens had been warned of this fate by a prophetic word given to a monk named Isaac, who had told the emperor that he would die by fire if he continued to oppress the church. The inclusion of this prophetic element is not merely dramatic; it establishes that Valens’s death was not an accident but a fulfillment of divine judgment that had been announced in advance.
What Socrates illuminates through this narrative is the full scope of his theological vision. The death of Valens is not the end of the story but the vindication of the Nicene cause. With the emperor dead, the Arian party loses its political patron, and the way is opened for the restoration of orthodoxy under the emperor Theodosius. Socrates is careful to note that the Gothic War itself was a consequence of Valens’s policies—he had allowed the Goths to cross the Danube into imperial territory and then mistreated them, provoking the rebellion that destroyed him. The political and the theological are woven together into a single fabric: bad theology produces bad governance, bad governance provokes divine judgment, and divine judgment restores the true faith. Socrates the historian is also Socrates the theologian, and his history is a demonstration of providence working through human events.
Book VI: The Reign of Theodosius the Great and the Final Victory of Nicene Orthodoxy
We now enter the reign of Theodosius I, the emperor who would finally settle the Arian controversy and establish Nicene Christianity as the religion of the Roman state. Socrates devotes Book VI to this pivotal reign, showing how the emperor’s piety and political skill brought an end to nearly half a century of theological conflict. The orientation here is toward closure: the narrative that began with the Arian controversy under Constantine now reaches its resolution under Theodosius, and Socrates presents this as a restoration of right order in both church and empire.
Socrates recounts the beginning of Theodosius’s reign with a careful attention to the emperor’s religious commitments. He reports that Theodosius, upon becoming emperor, immediately declared his intention to uphold the Nicene faith and to bring unity to the divided church. The historian presents a specific moment of decision: “Theodosius, having received the imperial authority, made it his first concern to unite the churches, which had been divided by the Arian heresy.” This passage establishes the emperor’s priority: unity through orthodoxy, not through compromise. Theodosius does not seek to mediate between parties as Constantine had done at Nicaea; he comes to power with a clear theological commitment and the political will to enforce it.
The illumination here is crucial for understanding how Socrates views the relationship between imperial power and ecclesiastical order. Theodosius represents the ideal Christian emperor—one who understands that his political authority exists to serve the truth of the faith, not to manage it as a matter of state policy. Unlike Constantius, who used imperial power to promote Arianism, and unlike Julian, who used it to restore paganism, Theodosius uses his authority to restore what Socrates considers the authentic apostolic tradition. The emperor’s first act is to summon a council at Constantinople in 381, which Socrates presents as the culmination of the Nicene project: the full articulation of the doctrine of the Trinity, including the divinity of the Holy Spirit, and the final condemnation of all Arian and semi-Arian positions.
Book VI: The Council of Constantinople and the Nicene Triumph
The Council of Constantinople occupies the central place in Book VI, and Socrates treats it with the same careful attention he gave to the Council of Nicaea in Book I. This is the moment of resolution, the point at which the theological controversy that has driven the entire narrative is finally settled. Socrates orients his reader by showing the council’s composition, its theological decisions, and its political context: Theodosius has gathered the bishops of the Eastern empire, with Gregory of Nazianzus presiding, to establish a definitive statement of orthodox faith.
Socrates presents the council’s most significant achievement in a passage that summarizes its theological work: “They confirmed the faith of Nicaea, and condemned the Macedonians, who denied the divinity of the Holy Spirit, as well as the Arians and all other heretics.” This simple statement conceals a complex theological development: the council not only reaffirmed the Nicene formula but extended it to address the question of the Holy Spirit, which had become a point of contention among those who accepted the divinity of the Son but denied that of the Spirit. The so-called “Macedonians” or Pneumatomachians represented a middle ground that the council now rejected, completing the Trinitarian doctrine that Nicaea had begun.
The illumination here reveals the structure of Socrates’s theological vision. For him, the Council of Constantinople is not merely a political settlement but a doctrinal consummation. The Nicene faith, which had been contested, suppressed, and partially obscured during the reigns of Constantius and Valens, is now fully restored and extended. The council’s work is presented as the work of the Holy Spirit guiding the church to truth, and Theodosius’s role is to provide the political framework within which this spiritual work can occur. Socrates is careful to note that the council’s canons were accepted throughout the empire, and that the Nicene faith became the official religion of the Roman state—not through coercion, but through the emperor’s wise use of his authority to support the truth.
Book VI: The Final Exile and Death of Eunomius and the Arians
With the Nicene victory secured, Socrates turns to the fate of the Arian leaders and the various heretical groups that had flourished during the preceding decades. The orientation here is toward the end of the controversy: Socrates traces the final exile of Eunomius, the suppression of Arian worship, and the gradual disappearance of the heresy from the public life of the empire. This section functions as a kind of denouement, showing the consequences of the council’s decisions for those who refused to accept them.
Socrates reports the specific fate of Eunomius with a mixture of historical precision and theological satisfaction: “Eunomius was banished by Theodosius, and ended his life in exile, still persisting in his heresy; but his followers continued to meet in secret for some time afterward.” The passage captures the paradox of heretical persistence: the public victory of orthodoxy does not immediately eliminate all opposition, but it does strip the heretics of imperial support and reduce them to the status of illegitimate gatherings. Socrates notes that Theodosius issued edicts prohibiting Arian worship, confiscating their churches, and ordering the suppression of their literature.
The illumination here touches on a theme that runs throughout the work: the relationship between truth and power. Socrates does not present the suppression of Arianism as merely a political act; he presents it as the restoration of proper order, in which the state protects the true faith and prohibits the public expression of error. The historian sees no contradiction between imperial coercion and religious truth—rather, he sees the emperor’s enforcement of orthodoxy as a fulfillment of the Christian ruler’s duty. The Arians are not being persecuted; they are being prevented from corrupting the faith of the people. This distinction would have been clear to Socrates and his readers, even if it appears problematic to modern sensibilities.
Book VI: The Novatians Under Theodosius
In a characteristic move, Socrates now turns his attention to the Novatians, the rigorist sect that has been his concern throughout the work. The orientation shifts from the Arian controversy, which is now essentially settled, to the treatment of the Novatians under the new regime. Socrates is attentive to this because the Novatians, while orthodox in their Trinitarian theology, were still considered schismatics by the mainstream church. Theodosius’s policy toward them would reveal whether the emperor’s commitment to unity extended to the suppression of all non-Nicene groups or only those that were heretical in doctrine.
Socrates reports a significant development: “Theodosius, having learned that the Novatians held the same faith as the Catholics concerning the Trinity, permitted them to retain their own churches and to worship according to their own customs.” This passage is remarkable for its tolerance: the emperor distinguishes between those who differ in doctrine (the Arians, Macedonians, and others) and those who differ only in discipline (the Novatians). The Novatians are allowed to exist alongside the Catholic church because they confess the same faith; their schism is a matter of ecclesiastical order, not of theological error.
The illumination here reveals the hierarchy of concerns in Socrates’s mind. For him, doctrinal orthodoxy is the primary criterion for determining the legitimacy of a Christian group; disciplinary disagreements, however serious, do not warrant the same treatment as heresy. The Novatians are orthodox in faith, and that orthodoxy earns them a measure of imperial protection even as they remain outside the mainstream church. Socrates presents this as a wise policy, one that recognizes the priority of doctrine over discipline. The passage also serves to vindicate the Novatians in Socrates’s own narrative: they have been faithful to the Nicene faith throughout the Arian controversy, and that faithfulness is now recognized and rewarded.
Book VI: The Disturbances at Antioch and the Intolerance of Flavian
Socrates now shifts from the imperial level to a local conflict in Antioch, where a dispute between the Catholic bishop Flavian and the Novatians of the city reveals the limits of Theodosius’s tolerance. The orientation is toward a specific incident that illustrates the ongoing tensions between the mainstream church and the Novatians, even under an emperor who has permitted the Novatians to exist. Socrates presents this as a case study in ecclesiastical politics, showing how local bishops sometimes exceeded or misinterpreted imperial policy.
Socrates recounts the incident in detail: “Flavian, the bishop of Antioch, desiring to bring the Novatians into communion with himself, first attempted persuasion, but when they refused, he proceeded to violence, seizing their churches and driving them from the city.” The passage is striking in its frankness: Flavian is presented not as a defender of orthodoxy but as an ambitious prelate whose zeal exceeds his wisdom. His attempt to coerce the Novatians backfires, creating discord rather than unity, and Socrates implies that his actions were contrary to the emperor’s intention.
The illumination here reveals the complexity of Socrates’s ecclesiology. While he supports the Nicene faith and the imperial enforcement of orthodoxy against heretics, he also values the Novatians as fellow orthodox Christians and is critical of those who would persecute them. The distinction between heresy and schism is preserved: the Arians deserve suppression because they deny the faith; the Novatians deserve tolerance because they confess it. Flavian’s error is not that he wants to unify the church—that is a legitimate goal—but that he uses methods appropriate for heretics against those who are orthodox in doctrine. Socrates implies that the church must learn to distinguish between theological error and disciplinary difference, and that the bishops who fail to make this distinction damage the church’s unity rather than promote it.
Book VI: The Persecution of the Novatians in Various Cities
The narrative now broadens to describe a wave of persecution against the Novatians that swept across the Eastern empire in the wake of the Council of Constantinople. Socrates orients his reader by showing that the local violence against the Novatians was not a coordinated imperial policy but rather the result of individual bishops acting on their own initiative. The pattern is consistent: Catholic bishops, emboldened by the Nicene victory, seek to eliminate all competition, including from those who share their faith but differ in discipline.
Socrates reports specific incidents from different cities: “In some places, the Novatians were driven from their churches by force; in others, their bishops were banished; and in still others, they were compelled to receive the Eucharist from the hands of the Catholic clergy.” The passage details a variety of coercive measures, all aimed at absorbing the Novatians into the mainstream church. Socrates’s tone is carefully neutral, but his selection of details implies a critique: these actions are not necessary for the defense of orthodoxy, since the Novatians are already orthodox; they are instead acts of ecclesiastical imperialism that create unnecessary division.
The illumination here engages a theme that has been present throughout the work: the church’s treatment of those within its own tradition. Socrates has consistently shown sympathy for the Novatians, not because he agrees with their rigorist discipline (he does not explicitly endorse it) but because he recognizes them as genuine Christians who have preserved the faith during the Arian crisis. Their persecution by orthodox bishops is therefore a scandal—a sin against charity that weakens the church’s witness. Socrates does not condemn the bishops directly, but his narrative makes the judgment implicit: those who persecute the orthodox because of disciplinary disagreements are repeating the error of the Arians, who persecuted the orthodox because of doctrinal disagreements. The persecutor and the persecuted change positions, but the principle remains the same.
Book VI: The Rebellion of Maximus and the Invasion of the Goths
The final section of Book VI turns from ecclesiastical affairs to political and military events, as Socrates recounts the rebellion of Magnus Maximus in the West and the continued threat of the Goths in the East. The orientation here is toward the connection between political stability and religious peace: Theodosius’s reign is presented as a time of general prosperity, but it is not without its challenges. Socrates shows that the emperor must defend his empire against both internal usurpers and external enemies, and that his success in these endeavors is linked to his fidelity to the Nicene faith.
Socrates reports the rebellion of Maximus with a focus on its religious implications: “Maximus, having slain Gratian, took possession of the Western empire, and pretended to favor the orthodox faith, but his actions revealed his true character.” The passage suggests that Maximus’s claim to orthodoxy was a political calculation rather than a genuine commitment, and that his usurpation was ultimately a threat to the unity that Theodosius had established. Socrates presents Theodosius’s response as both a political necessity and a religious duty: the emperor must defend legitimate authority against rebellion, just as he must defend orthodox faith against heresy.
The illumination here connects the political and theological threads of the narrative. For Socrates, the empire is a divinely ordained institution that exists to protect the church and promote the true faith. Rebellion against the emperor is therefore not merely a political crime but a sin against the order that God has established. Theodosius’s victory over Maximus is presented as a vindication of legitimate authority and a demonstration of divine favor: the emperor who upholds orthodoxy is rewarded with political success. This theme echoes the pattern established in earlier books, where emperors who oppose the true faith suffer defeat and death, while those who support it prosper.
Book VI: The Death of Theodosius and the Succession of Arcadius
The book concludes with the death of Theodosius in 395 and the division of the empire between his sons, Arcadius and Honorius. Socrates orients his reader toward the end of an era: Theodosius has been the great restorer of Nicene orthodoxy, the emperor who finally settled the Arian controversy and established the church on a firm foundation. His death marks a transition, and Socrates looks to the future with a mixture of hope and uncertainty.
Socrates reports the emperor’s death with a solemnity appropriate to the occasion: “Theodosius, having reigned sixteen years, died at Milan, leaving the empire to his sons, Arcadius in the East and Honorius in the West, both of whom were of the same faith as their father.” The passage emphasizes the continuity of faith: the sons have been raised in the Nicene tradition and can be expected to continue their father’s policies. The succession is peaceful and orderly, in contrast to the violent transitions that marked the reigns of Constantius and Valens.
The illumination here provides a final reflection on the relationship between imperial power and religious truth. Theodosius’s reign is presented as a model of Christian rulership: he used his authority to support the true faith, to protect the orthodox from persecution, and to maintain the unity of the church. His success in these endeavors was rewarded with political stability, military victory, and a peaceful succession. Socrates implies that the empire’s future depends on whether his sons follow his example. The narrative that began with Constantine’s conversion and the Arian controversy has reached its resolution: the Nicene faith is now established as the religion of the empire, and the church is united under the protection of a Christian emperor. But the historian, having traced the twists and turns of the previous century, knows that no settlement is final, and that new challenges will arise. The work ends not with a conclusion but with a continuation, pointing forward to the next chapter in the church’s history.
