Victorinus of Petau, rhetorician turned bishop, stands as one of the earliest Latin commentators on Scripture and an enduring witness to the martyr’s crown in the Diocletian persecution. Though only fragments of his writings survive, they preserve the theological currents, exegetical methods, and eschatological hopes of the late third century, mingling Greek erudition with a Latin style judged by Jerome as more vigorous in thought than in polish.
Life and Background
Victorinus—likely of Greek descent—first pursued a career as a professional rhetorician before becoming bishop of Petavium (modern Petau in Austrian Styria) in ancient Pannonia. His episcopate ended in martyrdom during the great Diocletian persecution around A.D. 303. Jerome notes that he understood Greek more readily than Latin, praising his sense while faulting his style. Jerome also lists a number of works now lost, including commentaries on Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Isaiah, Ezekiel, Habakkuk, the Song of Songs, and the Apocalypse, as well as a treatise Against All Heresies. Several poems once attributed to him are now generally regarded as spurious.
Surviving Works
Two works remain in part: the fragmentary De Fabrica Mundi (“On the Creation of the World”) and the Scholia in Apocalypsin (“Notes on the Apocalypse of John”).
De Fabrica Mundi
This fragment, probably from his lost commentary on Genesis, offers brief meditations on the creation narrative. Victorinus interprets the seven days of creation typologically as seven millennia of world history, the seventh being the millennial Sabbath when Christ will reign with His elect on earth. This chiliastic view, also found in the Epistle of Barnabas, stands in deliberate contrast to Jewish sabbatarianism. His allegorical imagination links the seven days with the seven eyes of the Lord (Zech. 4:10), the seven heavens (Ps. 33:6), the seven spirits in Christ (Isa. 11:2–3), and seven stages of His earthly life—nativity, infancy, boyhood, youth, young manhood, mature age, and death.
Scholia in Apocalypsin
These notes, though later interpolated in the fifth or sixth century, remain significant for the history of Revelation’s interpretation. Victorinus, agreeing with Irenaeus, dates the Apocalypse to Domitian’s reign and uses a blend of historical and allegorical exegesis. He sometimes views visions as synchronous rather than strictly sequential, commenting chiefly on difficult passages.
Key interpretations include:
– **Revelation 12**: The woman is the ancient Church of prophets and apostles; the dragon is the devil.
– **Revelation 17**: The woman on the seven hills is Rome; the beast from the abyss is the Roman Empire. Domitian is the sixth king, Nerva the seventh, and Nero revived the eighth.
– **Revelation 13:18**: The number 666 signifies “Teitan” in Greek and “Diclux” in Latin—both designating Antichrist by numerical value. “Diclux” is explained by antiphrasis: Antichrist, cut off from the heavenly light, yet pretends to be an angel of light.
Later hands added an application of 666 to the Vandal king Genseric, who in the fifth century devastated the African Church and sacked Rome.
Eschatology and Millennial Views
Victorinus’ treatment of Revelation 20:1–6 is notably less chiliastic than in his Genesis commentary. He interprets the “first resurrection” spiritually, citing Colossians 3:1, and leaves it open whether the thousand years are finite or eternal. Allegorical numerology abounds: ten represents the Decalogue, a hundred the crown of virginity—so that one who keeps virginity, obeys the law, and purifies his heart truly reigns with Christ, and “for such a one the devil is bound.” The final note on Revelation 22 rejects the sensual millennialism of Cerinthus, affirming that Christ’s kingdom is eternal in the saints, though its glory will be revealed after the resurrection. This softening of chiliastic expectation reflects the broader shift in the Church after Constantine, when the millennium was increasingly reckoned from the Incarnation rather than a future reign on earth.
Legacy
Though surviving only in fragments and later reworkings, Victorinus’ writings bridge the Greek and Latin exegetical traditions. They reveal a bishop steeped in allegory, attentive to the symbolic fabric of Scripture, and committed to the hope of Christ’s ultimate reign. His martyrdom under Diocletian sealed with blood a ministry that sought to read the signs of creation and prophecy in the light of the coming kingdom.
