The first part of this book has focussed on the complex process of adaptation and reinterpretation of the classical tradition of free speech between the third and seventh century AD. As I hope to have demonstrated, Christian interpretations of parrhesia were diverse, and not all of these interpretations were exclusively spiritual. In Christian conceptualisation(s), parrhesia kept many of the moral and political aspects that had been part of its pre-Christian tradition. In analogy with Roman citizens drawing their licence to speak from their free status within the Roman Empire, Christians laid a claim to freedom of speech because they regarded themselves as free citizens in the kingdom of Christ. Christians conceived of their parrhesia as a tool to spread the gospel, to state their Christian identity, to combat heresy or to imagine the relationship between man and God.

The previous chapters showed how Christians assimilated the classical tradition of free speech and turned it into a Christian practice. This chapter explores the other end of the spectrum of the Christian reception of classical free speech, and investigates the doubts and reservations against frank speech that were expressed in some Christian communities, especially in ascetic milieus, from the fifth to the seventh centuries. It questions Foucault’s thesis that the rise of monasticism smothered classical ideals of free speech. As this chapter shows, authors of ascetic literature did indeed emphasise the beneficial effects of silence versus the dangerous power of the tongue and maintained that unrestrained freedom of speech and free behaviour of monks amongst each other impeded spiritual growth. However, it also shows that ascetic ideals of self-control and silence did not replace, but rather reframed the traditional discourse of free speech.

This chapter describes how, over the course of the fourth century, Christians took over the role that was traditionally ascribed to the pagan court philosopher, who was defined (at least in the public imagination) by his freedom of speech, disregard for wealth and social conventions, equanimity, and an uncompromising attitude towards political authority. It discusses biographies and histories from the fourth and fifth centuries AD, which recount the lives and deeds of pagan philosophers and Christian holy men. It also analyses one ceremonial speech delivered by the court philosopher Themistius to Emperor Constantius II, showing that a speech of praise could also be a vehicle for advice and criticism. The chapter focuses on the cultural construction, performance and narrative representation of two varieties of political parrhesia, to wit, ‘bold speech’ and ‘privileged access’, that were relevant to the pagan philosopher and later to the free-speaking bishop who followed in his footsteps.

This chapter investigates narrative representations of free speech in early Christian martyr acts written between c. 150 and the end of persecution in 313. It discusses both pagan and Christian models that inspired authors of early Christian martyr acts to represent the speech and behaviour of martyrs in a certain manner. One of the issues the authors addressed was how a Christian should behave when he or she stood trial before secular authorities, and what measure of frank speech was appropriate in this situation. Early Christian martyrs are often presented as respectful, polite and reticent towards authorities during interrogation. We also see a clear preference for plain speech over studied rhetoric. The chapter addresses the question of whether new interpretations of parrhesia that we find in these martyrdom narratives should be seen as indicative of a growing reluctance among Christians to criticise those in power, or as part of a process of acculturation.

This chapter looks into the profile of the court adviser in the age of ecclesiastical reform and cultural renewal between c. 790 and c. 840. It explores the rise of the persona of the wise adviser, who spoke up for justice and orthodoxy and who used his familiarity with the ruler to mediate on behalf of others. Who were these counsellors who advocated and embodied frank speech and straightforward advice as agents of social and political change? What were the qualities and credentials that qualified them as competent advisers? And to what extent were advisers at liberty to express their admonitions, criticism and advice openly and directly? To answer these questions, this chapter investigates the advice literature of the late eighth and first half of the ninth century: that is, hortatory letters and mirrors for princes, written in response to, or as part of, attempts to create a well-organised, orthodox and just Christian society by educating its rulers.

This chapter is a case study on the letters of Bishop Ambrose of Milan, who borrowed the symbolic capital of the free-spoken court philosopher to create a public persona of an independent bishop speaking truth to power. It discusses the rhetoric of Ambrose’s letters to Emperor Theodosius against the background of the story of their confrontation in the porch of the church of Milan, as it was recounted in later narratives. The chapter analyses the rhetorical strategies that Ambrose employed in his letters to Theodosius to see how these strategies were related to the classical rhetorical tradition of free speech. It shows how Ambrose added Christian elements to the traditional repertoire and associated the duty of the priest to warn rulers from sin with Roman freedom of speech (libertas). Thus, Ambrose firmly connected Christian and classical free speech and offered a model to later generations of free-speaking bishops.

This chapter studies the letters of Bishop Agobard of Lyon (d. 840), who was dismissed from the court of Louis the Pious in 822, after having delivered what appears to have been an inappropriate speech. It explores the ways in which Agobard adopted different voices of admonition and speaker positions to advise and criticise his emperor. This chapter mainly focusses on Agobard’s letters of admonition addressed to the emperor and his courtiers in the years during which he was shunned by the court. It addresses the question of whether Agobard was really an outsider, or merely styled himself as such in his letters to get his message across more effectively. A second question is the one that has informed every chapter of this book: that of the extent to which these letters can be situated in the framework of the rhetorical tradition of free speech.

This final chapter discusses a letter, attributed to Pope Gregory IV (d.844), to the bishops of Francia. In 833, Pope Gregory IV made the journey across the Alps to mediate in the conflict between Emperor Louis the Pious and his sons. The chapter addresses the issue of the identity of the author who composed the letter. It discusses both the content of the letter and the details of its transmission, because this text is highly relevant to the reception of classical ideas on free speech. The unidentified author draws upon the late antique tradition of free speech in an attempt to persuade the bishops of Francia to speak out to the emperor. An analysis of this letter shows that the classical vocabulary of free speech, which disappeared in letters and literature of the Latin West after the sixth century, was reintroduced in political discourse. The chapter shows how within the ninth-century movement to bolster spiritual authority, the old vocabulary of free speech found a new place.

This chapter is a case study of the Histories of Gregory of Tours (d. 594). Other case studies in this book focus on letters of one particular author who criticised a person in power. This chapter is the exception, in that it treats not letters but a historiographical narrative, to see how the author presents himself as a truth-telling actor in the historical events he describes. It examines the models that may have inspired Gregory to present himself as a fearless defender of truth, and analyses the ways in which he embeds criticism in the autobiographical parts of his narrative. Two well-known episodes that Gregory described in his Histories, in which he confronts a Merovingian king, is studied in more detail; one concerns a clash with Chilperic I (d.584), king of Neustria, and the other a brush with Guntram (d. 592), king of Burgundy. A question that is addressed towards the end of this chapter is that of how Gregory’s professed ideal of telling the truth frankly relates to the reports of rumours and gossip in his Histories.

On the north-east edge of Hyde Park in London, near Marble Arch and Oxford Street, is a designated site for public speeches and debates, known as Speaker’s Corner. Since the Act of Parliament of 1872, anyone who enters the Speaker’s Corner is allowed to speak freely on any topic he or she chooses, offence to the British royal family excepted. The institution of a free speech zone in a public place is not unique, since free speech zones can be found in many major cities across Europe and America. What is remarkable about Speaker’s Corner is its location: it was established on a previous site of execution. London tourist guides inform visitors that the Speaker’s Corner’s tradition of free speech took its beginning from the Tyburn gallows, which were located on this very spot. Prisoners who were sent to the Tyburn gallows were allowed to speak freely before they were executed.

This chapter discusses developments in the Christian rhetoric of free speech in the fourth century, after Christianity had become an accepted religion. A theological controversy arose, known as the Arian controversy, that pitched supporters of different interpretations of Christian doctrine against each other. Christians, who saw themselves as heirs of the martyrs, needed to find a new rhetoric of opposition that fitted the realities of the post-persecution era. Was it acceptable to inveigh against a Christian emperor because he subscribed to an alternative interpretation of Christ’s truth? This chapter focusses on the rhetoric of Bishop Hilary of Poitiers (d. 368) who came to be regarded as the head of the anti-Arian faction in the West and wrote an invective against Emperor Constantius II. In Hilary’s letters, we find a new vocabulary and rhetoric of free speech which covered a whole range from persuasion to criticism, from polite advice to outright abuse. The chapter shows how Hilary created a new, powerful image of a Christian truth-teller that was built on the cultivated memory of martyrs, apostles and prophets.

The introduction offers a brief history of free speech in Antiquity, which serves as a background for the chapters of this book. It starts with the emergence of free speech (parrhesia) as a civic and political virtue in the Greek world, in connection with the rise of democracy. It then continues with the Roman world, where free speech became embedded in Roman oratory and was included among the rhetorical figures in handbooks of rhetoric. It addresses the close connection between free speech and citizenship in Roman thought. In the second century AD, a Christian rhetoric of free speech came into being. The introduction shows how, over the course of the centuries, free speech spread from the political and the judicial to the moral and the religious sphere. In spite of these shifts, free speech retained its importance as a tool of political criticism.

This chapter investigates narrative representations of free speech in early Christian martyr acts written between c. 150 and the end of persecution in 313. It discusses both pagan and Christian models that inspired authors of early Christian martyr acts to represent the speech and behaviour of martyrs in a certain manner. One of the issues the authors addressed was how a Christian should behave when he or she stood trial before secular authorities, and what measure of frank speech was appropriate in this situation. Early Christian martyrs are often presented as respectful, polite and reticent towards authorities during interrogation. We also see a clear preference for plain speech over studied rhetoric. The chapter addresses the question of whether new interpretations of parrhesia that we find in these martyrdom narratives should be seen as indicative of a growing reluctance among Christians to criticise those in power, or as part of a process of acculturation.