Augustine was not a great reader of his Christian contemporaries. That is to say, he seems not to have expended every energy (as might be expected of a modern scholar) in keeping up with the very latest to have been written on every topic on which he pronounced, or in which he could claim an interest. Part of the reason for this must be his relatively late conversion to Christianity. For as O'Donnell has pointed out, Augustine the professor of rhetoric-as he was by the time he reached his thirties-was inevitably better acquainted with the ancient Greek and Latin classics than he was with the far less sophisticated writings associated with Christianity (O'Donnell 2005a: 125). Indeed, his elliptical path to Christianity meant that the new convert was most familiar with the Christian Scriptures on account of their use by the Manicheans; and the contemporaries with whom he met to discuss ideas in Milan were more often Neoplatonists than Christians. Thus it seems clear that Augustine, unfamiliar with even the fundamental texts of his new religion, will have scarcely ventured into the writings of contemporary Christians. It is possible that Augustine would have sought to fill this gap as he settled down to his new life as a Christian, but any ambitions in that direction were frustrated by his return to North Africa and the new responsibilities he took on for the church at Hippo. Even after his ordination as priest there, he was conscious of the need to catch up with his (Christian) reading, which at that stage seems to have meant the Scriptures themselves (Ep. 21.3). Moreover, had he wanted to read more widely, it is not clear that Hippo had much to offer. Copies of the gospels could be acquired in the town, or so Augustine implied; but he could also claim-perhaps with some hope of being believed-that even a text of Cicero was unobtainable (O'Donnell 2005a: 126; Ep. 118.9). Whether that was true or not, it seems unlikely that the latest writings of Latin theologians would be easy to find; and there was of course a further constraint on Augustine's reading in the fact of his inexpert Greek. We must therefore not imagine Augustine to have had a comprehensive grasp of the Christian literature we take for granted today.

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The hymns of Ambrose of Milan may usefully be seen in the context of other forms of rhythmic chant and song found in the social world of the Roman Empire: above all, they may be connected with popular songs and with acclamations, whether theatrical, political, or religious. Ambrose's hymns in particular share with songs and acclamations a number of formal features, being regular in form and based on accentual stress patterns rather than quantitative meter, and being similarly intended for popular and untrained participation. The most important parallel, however, lies in what may be called their function or effect: for just as did songs and acclamations, Ambrose's hymns demonstrated and articulated the unity of a diverse population by allowing the constituents to express themselves in a single voice. What the hymns may have lacked in spontaneity—being complex and pre-composed—they gained in direction and discipline, so that Ambrose was able to exploit the unity and harmony of his congregation in support of his own political and religious aims. Ambrose's hymns thus reconfigured songs and acclamations as a means of establishing and promoting a Milanese Christian identity and of affirming his own popular authority and legitimacy.

Ambrose of Milan is famous above all for his struggle with, and triumph over, 'Arian' heresy. Yet, almost all of the evidence comes from Ambrose's own writings, and from pious historians of the next generation who represented him as a champion of orthodoxy. This detailed study argues instead that an 'Arian' opposition in Milan was largely conjured up by Ambrose himself, lumping together critics and outsiders in order to secure and justify his own authority. Along with new interpretations of Ambrose's election as bishop, his controversies over the faith, and his clashes with the imperial court, this book provides a new understanding of the nature and significance of heretical communities in Late Antiquity. In place of rival congregations inflexibly committed to doctrinal beliefs, it envisages a world of more fluid allegiances in which heresy - but also consensus - could be a matter of deploying the right rhetorical frame.