<<

UNIVERSITY OF CALGARY

Roman Women Authors

Authorship, Agency and Authority

by

Crystal Dean

A THESIS

SUBMITTED TO THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES

IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE

DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

DEPARTMENT OF GREEK AND ROMAN STUDIES

CALGARY, ALBERTA

SEPTEMBER, 2012

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While these forms may be included Bien que ces formulaires aient inclus dans in the document page count, their la pagination, il n'y aura aucun contenu removal does not represent any loss manquant. of content from the thesis. ABSTRACT

Three major works written by women have survived from the Roman world: Perpetua’s Passio (early 3rd century AD), Proba’s Cento (mid 4th century AD) and Egeria’s Itinerarium (late 4th century AD). This thesis examines these early Christian works and authors within their individual historical contexts and also applies them to the larger framework of Roman history in order to develop an inclusive historical narrative for Roman women writers. In opposition to the largely dismissive attitudes found in scholarship towards the literacy, textual complexity, and public voice of female Roman authors, this thesis uses the corpus to argue for the presence of an adaptive educational system that served to enable female authorship, a visible textual pattern of socio-political voice that provided a degree of agency for female-authored texts and the integration of Christian traditions of female speech and testimony that imbued the extant corpus with authority. Thus, this thesis argues for a significant, albeit generally unrecognized, creative tradition that existed across time for Roman women writers. The meager survival of female-authored texts, however, necessitates the examination of the extant corpus not only as part of a larger cohesive history, but also as uniquely successful works. An examination of the common elements within the texts that appear to have aided in the reception of these particular works suggests that ambiguity (in genre, authorial voice and textual purpose) rendered these texts both mutable and sustainable because it blurred the boundaries of expectations in terms of authorship, agency and authority within the texts and allowed for them to be employed for multiple purposes. Thus, the corpus represents the successful negotiation of two seemingly disparate contexts: a long-standing tradition of women writers upon which it could draw and the ability to stand apart from this tradition. That these texts were able to mediate a balance is further indication of the complexity and sophistication of the corpus and indeed offers valuable insight into a poorly understood component of Roman intellectual life.

ii ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to first and foremost thank my thesis committee for sharing their wisdom and support during the writing of this thesis. To my supervisor, Dr. John

Vanderspoel, thank you for all the time (and red wine) that you have devoted to this project. To my committee members, Dr. Noreen Humble, Mr. James Humes, Dr. Jewel

Spangler, and Dr. Rebecca Nagel, I thank each and every one of you for the comments and conversations that led to this work.

I would also like to thank the Department of Greek and Roman Studies at the

University of Calgary for all the assistance and support that I have received over the years. My time here has been wonderful and the warmth and support of the department has been invaluable to me.

I also would like to thank those dear people that have stood besides me during this process and who have been my colleagues, sounding boards, travel companions and best friends. To Stefanie Skinner, Bryan Natalie, Graham Wrightson and Carolyn Willikes, thank you for sharing the journey!

Finally, I would like to thank my family for all of their love and encouragement.

To my mother, Faith Dean, thank for inspiring me to follow my passion (even when it led to grad school). To my grandparents, Don and Genevie Dean, thank for your loving support and understanding. Lastly, to my husband Adam Lajeunesse, thank for all of your support and advice, and for staying calm as you endured writer’s block, bad TV, bouts of brilliance and the general chaos of thesis writing.

iii TABLE OF CONTENTS

Abstract...... ii Acknowledgements ...... iii Table of Contents ...... iv Epigraph ...... vi

Introduction and Methodology...... 1

In Search of the “Auctrix”...... 1 Roman Women Writers: Issues and Ideas ...... 4 Overview of Thesis Chapters...... 9 Methodology ...... 12

Chapter One: Approaching Roman Women Writers ...... 33

Roman Women Writers: An Overview...... 33 Late Antique Women Writers ...... 58 Late Antique Authors: Perpetua...... 58 Late Antique Authors: Proba ...... 62 Late Antique Authors: Egeria ...... 73 Beyond Ancient Christianity: Eudocia, Hypatia, Demo II, and Eucheria ...... 83 Conclusions...... 86

Chapter Two: Gender, Genre and Liminality in Literature...... 89

Genre...... 90 Authorial Gender...... 109 Female Speech ...... 115 Ambiguity and Reception ...... 121

Chapter Three: Female Education in the late Roman World ...... 132

Roman Women and Roman Education: Perceptions and Possibilities ...... 133 Women Writers and Education in Late Antiquity ...... 151 Egeria and Female Illiteracy ...... 157

iv The Study Circle ...... 169 Conclusions...... 180

Chapter Four: Publication and Public Vocation ...... 182

Forerunners of Late Antique Female Authors: The Republican Voices...... 185 Forerunners of Late Antique Female Authors: The Imperial Voices ...... 199 Textual Visibility and Textual Authorship ...... 207 Egeria and Public Visibility...... 212 Egeria and Political Espionage?...... 221 Redefining ‘Appropriate’ Public Female Voice in Late Antiquity...... 214

Chapter Five: Letters to God: Testimony, Rhetoric and Christian Conversion…229

Proba and Religious Responsibility...... 242 Female Teaching in the Cento ...... 252 Christian Testimony and Female Rhetoric: The cases of Perpetua and Egeria .. 257 Reception and Response in the Christian Context...... 270

Conclusion ...... 275

Bibliography ...... 282

Appendix A: Further Examples of Women’s Words: Inscriptions and Dedications ...... 319

The Colossus of Memnon at Thebes...... 318 Female Dedicators on Household Tombs at ...... 321

Appendix B: Speaking Women in the Roman World ...... 331

v

hinc canere incipiam (Here I shall begin my song) -Proba, Cento, 22

vi 1

INTRODUCTION AND METHODOLOGY

In Search of the “Auctrix”

In defining the word auctor, Isidore of Seville neatly sums up the challenge of studying Roman women authors. Auctor, he states, cannot be used in the feminine gender

(Auctorem autem feminino genere dici non posse).1 For him, ‘author’ is exclusively and inherently a masculine word, and represents a masculine activity. For women, then, to take up this title seems to have required an ability to assume an identity beyond normative female roles. Nor did possess the mediating influence of a canonical female author such as Greek literature had with .2 There is, quite simply, no comparable female writer in the Latin corpus, whose early fame allowed for imitation by later Roman women. Thus, for Roman women, perceptions of authorship were potentially problematic. Unlike their Greek predecessors, they lacked both a linguistic and literary framework that in any way encouraged their writing.3 And yet

Roman women did write, and in significant numbers. They appear as the authors of a diverse group of texts, ranging from historical commentaries to poetry, to medical texts, to philosophical works, to memoirs, and beyond.4 However, very few works by Roman women survive today in whole or partial form.

1 Isidore of Seville, Etymologiae, 10.1.2. 2 J. Farrell, Latin Language and Latin Culture: From Ancient to Modern Times (Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 2001), 54. 3 This is not to suggest that there were no models available to Roman women writers. Clearly there was a masculine framework for authorship and even a female model in Greek literature; however, there was no specifically female Roman framework. 4 This corpus of works is discussed at length in Chapter One, 33-57.

2

What has survived comes, almost exclusively, from Late Antiquity. Late

Antiquity provided the framework for the only significant extant corpus of Roman women writers to have been preserved in the textual record. While this flourishing may at first glance appear to offer only a paltry handful of writers– Perpetua, Proba and Egeria– in comparison to other periods of Roman history, which contain even fewer extant works by women, it emerges as a time of particular vibrancy and opportunity for women writers, both in terms of creation and preservation.5 Every major extant work by a Roman woman was composed during the later years of the . Late Antiquity, therefore, appears to have provided a unique set of possibilities for women to participate in literary activities. These works are unique, not in the sense that women did not write in other periods, for they certainly did, and on a variety of subjects, but in terms of their very survival. As such, they form a rare source group of Roman women writers and precious evidence for female participation in late antique literary culture. Thus they illustrate one of the important themes of this thesis: one of the central problems surrounding the study of Roman women writers is that despite a highly continuous tradition of writing there is a highly erratic tradition of preservation. This points to a need to understand two disparate contexts that female writers functioned within: the context that led to the creation of a female writer, and the context that led to the creation of a receptive environment for that writer. In many instances it appears that women operated within the former but not the latter context. The amalgamation of literary potential and preservation that occurs in Late Antiquity is, therefore, a second theme of this thesis.

5 For a detailed discussion of these authors and their works see Chapter One below, 58-83.

3

Why this period was particularly successful for female writers is explored on a comparative basis with preceding periods of Roman history.

One major difference between Late Antiquity and earlier periods of Roman history is the presence of Christianity, and the role of Christianity is the third theme of this thesis. That all the late antique texts are Christian in content is not a coincidence and has had a significant impact in defining the focus of this study. Third and fourth-century

Christianity, what might be termed early or ancient Christianity, functioned with a great deal of ambiguity compared to the religion in its fifth-century incarnation, and it is within this period that Perpetua, Proba and Egeria were active. As a result, this thesis has concentrated on writers active in the pre-Theodosian or pre-fifth-century period. More and more, Theodosius is recognized as a point of transition for late antique culture, particularly in terms of society’s attitudes towards Christianity and in terms of the solidification of a normative Christian identity.6 Such a temporal framework is important, as it helps to position the early Christian corpus within the larger pagan corpus of Roman women writers upon which it drew, rather than the early Medieval Christian corpus, for which it was itself an antecedent. On occasion, later examples of women writers, in particular the empress Eudocia, will be introduced for comparative purposes, or to develop themes of continuity for women writers across a longer temporal period. The focus, however, will remain within Christianity’s developmental period, as it will be

6 This idea that Christianity can be divided into distinct and different periods between the fourth and fifth centuries is convincingly argued in R. Markus, The End of Ancient Christianity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 21-44. Markus’ view that prior to Theodosius Christianity was in a transitive and ambiguous state is built largely on the earlier work of P. Brown, “Aspects of the Christianisation of the Roman Aristocracy,” Journal of Roman Studies 51 (1961), 1-11, who describes the early fifth century as the ‘drift into a respectable Christianity’. This view is also supported by R. MacMullen, Christianizing the Roman Empire (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1984), 74-85.

4 argued that the ambiguity of ancient Christianity was instrumental in the creation of this corpus. To this end, the relationship between a writer and her context will be assessed from multiple perspectives, literary, societal, historical and religious, in order to develop a full understanding of the forces acting upon her and her text.

The introduction below seeks to contextualize the early Christian corpus in two ways. Firstly, it seeks to outline the major issues and ideas that the corpus will engage with in the body of the thesis, and to provide an overview of the intent of each chapter so as to familiarize the reader with the direction of this thesis. Secondly, it seeks to outline the methodological approach of this thesis, particularly in response to existing trends in the historiography surrounding Roman women writers.

Roman Women Writers: Issues and Ideas

Continuity and Rupture

The early Christian corpus of female-authored texts provides a new and productive point of entry into numerous issues of women’s history in the Roman world.

This thesis examines this corpus within the larger literary and historical context of the period in order to determine what sort of wider dialogue the texts produce. Despite the often anomalous nature of the corpus one of the larger themes that emerged is that of continuity. Situating this corpus within the larger tradition of Roman female writers suggests that there was an active and rich literary culture for Roman women (even if much of it is now lost) of which Perpetua, Proba and Egeria were heirs. Approaching the texts as products of female education produces similar results; the late antique corpus reflects a long-standing tradition of education for Roman elite women rather than a

5 handful of exceptional instances. Thus, the texts argue for a recognition of a much larger and more vibrant literary and intellectual climate for Roman women than is generally assumed, and, also for the continuation of this climate from Republican to Imperial to

Christian periods.7

Assessing the corpus within political parameters, that is, examining the political connections found in the works and recognizing these connections as a form of political participation by women, results in yet another pattern of continuity, in which it is possible to see that elite women had a long-standing tradition of political/public expression.

Likewise, defining the corpus as expressions of religious beliefs results in a similar pattern. The late antique corpus, then, provides extant examples of many long-standing traditions for Roman women, traditions that had often been established in the Republic and had continued into Late Antiquity.

At the same time, the survival of the late antique corpus represents a rupture in continuity in that its preservation is unusual. In the literary sense, each text represents the development of a new form. Genres transform and are recombined in the works to create something new. For the authors, this break with literary tradition is central to a positive response to their work. Change is equally critical in providing a positive context for female voice on a larger scale. As will be demonstrated, crisis and transformation in the political/social realm often appear to create a strong platform for female speech in both literary and political circles. The rupture caused by Christianity can be seen to reinforce

7 One need only look to textbooks on Roman history to see standard interpretations of female exclusion from intellectual life. See A , ed. M le Glay, J. Voisin, Y. le Bohec, D. Cherry, D. G, Kyle, E. Manolariaki, trans. A. Nevill, 4th Ed. (London: Blackwell Publishing, 2009),179-183; D. Potter, : A New History (New York: Thames & Hudson, 2009), 35-36; H. H. Scullard, From the Gracchi to Nero: A History of Rome from 133 BC to AD 69, 5th Ed. (New York: Routledge, 2006), 349-357.

6 the potential of these transformations. It served as a trigger in the development of new literary genres that were more open to female authors, and it served as an agitator for social norms, creating one of these platforms of agency for women and women’s voices.

The preservation of this corpus is therefore dependent on both continuity and rupture. The former ensured the successful composition of the texts, the latter ensured their successful reception. This thesis, thus, will show how the balance between these opposing forces is played out in the works of Perpetua, Proba, and Egeria.

Situating Female Voice

This thesis also extensively explores the issue of female voice, particularly by situating the corpus in what we know about contemporary public/private parameters.8 As writers and speakers, the late antique women are some of the few examples from the

Roman world of actual female voices. By exploring the nature of the texts a new paradigm for female voice can be constructed, a paradigm that calls for the elimination of the public/private dichotomy in exchange for what might be termed a ‘private in public approach’. It is difficult to refute the point that each text is a public work with a public purpose, or at least that on some level the works under discussion are public in the sense that they all seem clearly to have an audience of some sort. Perpetua is sharing her experience with an audience. Proba is writing to an audience. Egeria is telling a group about her journey. The political and social undercurrents which run through these texts are equally suggestive of their public nature. It will be argued that they had a purpose and intent (didactic and exemplary) beyond the pleasure of literary composition.

8 For an introduction to this subject see Chapter Four, 182-184.

7

And yet it cannot be ignored that each text contains features of personal or private emotions. Perpetua shares her experience, her emotions, her feeling for her family and small Christian circle. Proba writes about her religion and her emotions towards it.

Egeria describes her sensory perceptions and reactions to her journey. This is suggestive that a successful reception towards female voice was often determined by the focus of a text. That is to say, personal subject matters on a public stage, the ‘private in public approach’, appears to have been a good combination for female authors.

For these writers, then, it will be argued that the domus becomes a source of agency for their voice, rather than a circumscribing force. Because it was a long-standing responsibility for Roman women to orchestrate the expression of familial religious devotion on a public level, literary texts that functioned in a similar fashion could draw from a positive source of legitimacy for Roman women.

Ambiguity and Reception

The result of the interaction in each text between continuity and transformation, domestic and public voice, political and religious purpose, is the creation of works that appear ambiguous to the reader. It will be argued that it is very challenging to define the corpus in any unilateral or univocal sense. Each text has a dynamic interplay of masculine and feminine voice, multiple literary genres, and multiple layers of purpose ranging from personal, to familial, to societal. The liminality of the texts is perhaps, then, the largest contributor to their perpetuation. The multitude of meanings that this imbues the early Christian texts with renders them mutable, and thus sustainable, in a way that other female-authored texts were not. And perhaps, considering the period in which they

8 were created, one that is itself equally ambiguous, they are an excellent example of the intellectual environment of Late Antiquity. Thus, textual ambiguity (deliberate or coincidental) and the influence this had on contemporary reception becomes an additional theme of this thesis.

To this end, questions of reception and the delicate balance between the intent of the author and the response of the audience form an important feature in the study of the corpus. What Jauss identifies as the “aesthetics of reception,” the recognition that readers shape the creation and longevity of texts through their own expectations, offers a useful model for approaching issues of response and reception in the early Christian corpus:

In the triangle of author, work and reading public the latter is no passive part, no chain of mere reactions, but even history-making energy. The historical life of a literary work is unthinkable without the active participation of its audience. For it is only through the process of its communication that the work reaches the changing horizon of experience in a continuity in which the continual change occurs from simple reception to critical understanding, from passive to active reception, from recognized aesthetic norms to a new production which surpasses them. The historicity of literature as well as its communicative character presupposes a relation of work, audience and new work which takes the form of a dialogue as well as a process, and which can be understood in the relationship of message and receiver as well as in the relationship of question and answer, problem and solution.9

Equally, the intent of the author, and her role in facilitating audience response cannot be ignored. This presupposes that both author and audience hold in common a set of expectations for the text, based on such features such as genre, historical context and

9 H. R. Jauss, “Literary History as a Challenge to Literary Theory,” New Literary History 2:1 (1970), 8.

9 degrees of reality within the text itself.10 By acting upon these common expectations the author is able to directly influence how the reader might react to her text. For the early

Christian corpus, which is unusual in its preservation compared to other periods of

Roman women writers, textual reception thus becomes particularly relevant.

Overview of Thesis Chapters

The multi-pronged approach of this thesis has generated a division of the thesis material into five chapters, each of which approaches the early Christian corpus with a particular focus, and each of which serves to situate the extant texts within a larger historical framework.

Chapter One: Roman Women Writers: An Overview: The first chapter provides a broad overview of the corpus of Roman women writers. It identifies what evidence we have for female authors spanning the whole of the Roman period and examines a range of genres and fields in which women participated. Having established that a firm tradition of women writers existed, it then goes on to discuss the identities and texts of Perpetua,

Proba, and Egeria at length. In the final section of the chapter, these late antique authors are situated within the larger patterns of Roman women authors, and some general conclusions pertaining to Roman women writers and their relationship to each other are presented.

10 Ibid., 14. Jauss sees the element of authorial intent as key in determining the nature of audience response: “The way in which a literary work satisfies, surpasses, disappoints, or disproves the expectations of its first reader in the historical moment of its appearance obviously gives a criterion for the determination of its aesthetic value.”

10

Chapter Two: Gender, Genre and Liminality in Latin Literature: This chapter examines the early Christian corpus within the larger tradition of Latin literature with an emphasis on the anomalous styles of the three texts. It suggests that part of their successful reception lay in the creation of works that are, either by intention or circumstance, ambiguous in both genre and authorial gender and thus avoid any challenge to the expectations of traditional literary genres. Instrumental in achieving this degree of liminality is the creative potential that lies in nascent Christian genres, which lack the strictures of established literary forms and are thus inherently more inclusive in terms of authorial potential.

Chapter Three: Female Education in the Late Roman World: In the third chapter the nature of female education is examined. Each late antique author provides an entry point into a potential course of education for a (elite) Roman woman. Standard interpretations of female education and the nature of the extant texts written by women create something of a dichotomy. Female education is generally viewed by modern scholars as something that was at best sporadic and at worst severely curtailed.11 And yet the source material reveals numerous highly educated women. Rather than attempting to present these women as anomalies in the record, since there are simply too many to discount in this fashion, it is more useful to assume alternative educational strategies for women.

Chapter Four: Publication and Public Vocation: Chapter Four of this thesis addresses the complex issue of female “public” voice in Rome. As publicly-known works, the early Christian corpus clearly functioned within public discourse, and yet,

11 See Chapter Three, n. 383 below.

11 female voice is generally conceptualized by scholars as existing only within the “private” sphere of Roman life.12 This chapter, therefore, begins by examining the historical precedent of female visibility prior to Late Antiquity. It argues that patterns of textual visibility for women in Late Antiquity are based upon long-standing traditions developed in Republican and early Imperial Rome. From here, the chapter goes on to explore the connection between female visibility in text and female visibility as authors of text, and argues for the recognition of female political agency in text. Ultimately, drawing upon the existence of a broad female political voice, this chapter argues for the resolution of a supposed public/private dichotomy in regards to female voice.

Chapter Five: Letters to God: Testimony, Rhetoric and Christian Conversion:

This chapter concentrates on the impact that Christianity had on women writers, both in terms of agency and reception. It begins by establishing the societal and historical context for public expressions of Christianity by women in Late Antiquity, and then moves to situate the writers within this larger field of women and early Christianity, as a means of exploring the popularity and promulgation of their works.

Organizing the chapters in this manner demonstrates the unique combination of factors that resulted in the existence of this late antique corpus, factors that span literary and historical considerations. It also demonstrates a methodology for studying Roman women writers that allows for a real and pragmatic approach to their texts, by examining them within specific contexts rather than focusing exclusively on issues of gender. Lastly, it allows for a number of new interpretations of the texts on the basis of philological,

12 On the privatization of female voice see Chapter Four, 182-184.

12 historiographical and historical approaches, namely, that these texts are the works of vibrant and creative people who were active and educated participants in their world.

Methodology

Roman women writers tend to be approached by scholars in one of two ways.

Either a study focuses upon biographical issues (where a writer was from, who she was) or on gender issues (limitations, restrictions, elements of female voice).13 In either case, women writers are almost always approached as women first, writers second. The emphasis placed on their gender has connected Roman women authors to the study of

Roman gender dynamics in a way rarely reflected in the study of male writers.14

Therefore, any study of Roman women writers necessitates, as a prerequisite, a study of gender in Roman society. This is not a point of contention for this thesis. However, current views on the gender dynamic in Roman society are centered on the notion of a public/private dichotomy, which perceives women as being confined almost exclusively to the private sphere.15 Such a perception of women’s place in Rome has had a significant and problematic impact on the study of women writers, because it arbitrarily forces the assumption that a woman’s voice was private and that women were incapable of writing with a public voice. This conclusion has been further reinforced by the manner in which the study of Roman women writers evolved, that is, out of early work done on Greek

13 For a full discussion of individual Roman women writers and the scholarship surrounding them see Chapter One. 14 It is interesting to note that masculinity studies is now a growing field within Roman history. See, for example, M. McDonnell, Roman Manliness: "Virtus" and the (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006). 15 On this basic assumption, see above n. 7.

13 women writers such as Sappho, Corinna and Erinna, who were writing within the gender dynamics of the ancient Greek world.16 As interest spread from Greek to Roman writers, so too did the previously developed view of Greek gender dynamics. As a result, Roman women writers are all too often assessed through a faulty model of gender roles, not reflective of the society in which they lived but very much reflective of earlier studies on

Greek women, and perpetuating a theory of gender dynamics that defines Roman women as isolated, oppressed and restricted.17

16 Women in ancient tend to be viewed by scholars as functioning within sharply defined and circumscribed parameters compared to men. For broad surveys of Greek women that explore how women existed in a world created and controlled by men, see J. R. Laurin, Women of Ancient (Victoria: Trafford Publishing, 2005), 18; P. Brule, Women of Ancient Greece, trans. A. Nevill (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2003); S. Blundell, Women in Ancient Greece (Harvard University Press, 1995), 11; D. Cohen, “Seclusion, Separation, and the Status of Women in Classical Athens,” Greece & Rome 36:1 (1989), 3. The idea of total suppression is now being challenged in certain aspects of Greek women’s lives, in particular religion, where women are thought perhaps to have held more authority and autonomy. See J. Breton Connelly, Portrait of a Priestess: Women and Ritual in Ancient Greece (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2007), 2; M. Dillon, Girls and Women in Classical Greek Religion (London: Routledge, 2002), 4. The household, or oikos, is also now being re-evaluated as a potential source of power for Greek women, although the extent to which this translated to concrete power outside of the home is as yet unclear. See L. C. Nevett, House and Society in the Ancient Greek World (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2001), 14; M. Y. Goldberg, “Spatial and Behavioral Negotiation in Classical Athenian City Houses,” in The Archaeology of Household Activities, ed. P. M. Allison (London: Routledge, 1999), 145; N. H. Demand, Birth, Death, and Motherhood in Classical Greece (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1994), xx. In contrast, even the most current views on Greek women writers maintain the theme of oppression. See, for example, J. M. Downes, The Female : An Exploration of Women’s Epic Poetry (Newark: University of Delaware Press, 2010), 21. Downes explains his interest in the epic poetry of Greek women: “Even more, my sense of injustice increased that these many, many women writers were forced— without an acknowledged tradition—to reinvent more fully and completely a woman’s epic, their own epics, within the darkness of patriarchy and its resolutely masculine epic tradition.” This view echoes the opinions found in the earlier collection of essays, Making Silence Speak: Women’s Voices in Greek Literature and Society, ed. A. Lardinois and L. McClure (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2001), 3. 17 Standard reference works on Roman women continue this theme of oppression even today. See, for example, A. Franschetti, Roman Women (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2001), 3: “The Romans believed that all women, whatever their age or status, were characterized by

14

Such an understanding of Roman women, and such a methodological approach to

Roman women writers, demands reassessment. By tracing the evolution of the study of

Roman women writers, and by exploring the conclusions that current scholarship has drawn about a select handful of these authors, it becomes evident that the privatization of women in Roman society is a misconception. In addition, such a survey suggests the need for a dismissal of the concept of a public/private dichotomy or at least for a reduction of its importance in gender dynamics, and suggests in its place a methodology based upon a far more positive and inclusive role for women and women writers in Roman society.

The study of women writers in Rome began with the study of women writers in

Greece, and as a result the field developed with an inherent methodological flaw.

Following the rise of women’s history as a distinct field there was a new and vibrant interest in the fragments of poetry left by Greek women, in particular Sappho, but also

Korinna, Nossis and Erinna. Studies of these women and their works published during the 1970s and 1980s evidence similar themes to the majority of work being done on

certain traits: a feeble intellect, weakness of character, and overall, a general incapacity innate in the female sex. These weaknessess, propter sexus infirmitatem, indisputable and universally recognized, formed the basis of all relationships (including judicial ones) that every freeborn Roman woman established with the outer world.” E. Cantarella, Pandora’s Daughters: The Role and Status of Women in Greek and Roman Antiquity, trans. M. Fant (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1981), 178-179, while suggesting that Roman women seem to have more independence than Greek women, ultimately concludes: “…entire generations of unknown women have passed nameless through Greek and Roman history, and not only because their individual names could not be spoken. Annulled as individuals because of their gender, these women, who populated and produced citizens for cities and empires, have been cancelled from history.” Even in works that recognize that Roman women had some degree of public life the ultimate theme is the continued isolation of women. Consider, for example, K. Milnor, “Women in Roman Society,” in The Oxford Handbook of Social Relations in the Roman World, ed. M. Peachin (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 620, which discusses Roman women in the section entitled ‘Marginalized Persons’, and which includes (in addition to women) slaves, children, prostitutes, entertainers, magicians, bandits, and people with physical deformities. On the continued study of Greek and Roman women as a homogenous group see, for example, A Companion to Women in the Ancient World, ed. S. L. James and S. Dillon (London: Blackwell, 2012).

15 ancient women, that is a concern with the marginalization of female voice and a need to redress this by showing how women had a distinct literary presence.18 In 1973 Mary

Lefkowitz sharply observed what she saw as the limiting of female writers by previous scholars into two enduring assumptions: “(1) Any creative woman is a ‘deviant’, that is, women who have a satisfactory emotional life (home, family and husband) do not need additional creative outlets…(2) Because women poets are emotionally disturbed, their poems are psychological outpourings, i.e. not intellectual but ingenuous, artless, concerned with their inner emotional lives.”19 Two years later, also commenting on the scholarship surrounding Sappho, Susan Friedman wrote, “The short, passionate lyric has conventionally been thought appropriate for women poets if they insist on writing, while the longer more philosophical epic belongs to the real (male) poet.”20 The goal of these early feminist scholars was to establish validity for the poets as authors in their own right.21 The idea that the poetry of classical and Hellenistic Greek women was suppressed by the contemporary dominant masculine voice present in literature, and the recognition of the struggle of female poets to write in spite of their marginalization and suppression, seems to have been a general conclusion. Considering the typical role ascribed to Greek women by scholars, one of exclusion and seclusion, this interpretation of women writers was a natural outcome. In the larger field of the history of Greek women, dominated early

18 For some of the earliest studies, see C. Bowra, “Erinna’s Lament for Baucis,” Problems in Greek Poetry (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1953), 151-163; M. R. Leftkowitz, “Critical Stereotypes and the Poetry of Sappho,” Greek Roman and Byzantine Studies 14:2 (1973), 113-122; J. P. Hallett, “Sappho and Her Social Context: Sense and Sensuality,” Signs 4 (1979), 447-464. On the Hellenistic poets, see S. Barnard, “Hellenistic Women Poets,” The Classical Journal 73:3 (1978), 204-213. 19 M. R. Lefkowitz, “Critical Stereotypes and the Poetry of Sappho,” 113. 20 S. Friedman, “Who Buried H. D.? A Poet, Her Critics, and Her Place in ‘The Literary Tradition’,” College English 37 (1975), 807. 21 P. Culham, “Ten Years after Pomeroy: Studies in the Image and Reality of Women in Antiquity,” Helios, n. s., 13.2 (1986), 15.

16 on by Pomeroy’s Goddesses, Whores, Wives and Slaves (1975) and then quickly followed by Canterella’s L’ambiguo malanno (1981) which was translated into English by

Maureen Fant (Pandora’s Daughters: The Role and Status of Women in Greek and

Roman Antiquity), the emphasis was strongly on the subjugation of women by men.

Canterella bluntly defines her work as a reconstruction of the lives of Greek and Roman women because doing so “may suggest reasons for their subjugations, the forms it took, and the theoretical considerations that justified it, under the rationale of being “natural” and inevitable, a rationale whose consequences are felt long after Greek and Roman times.”22 Likewise, a collection of papers published in 1984, Women in the Ancient

World: The Arethusa Papers, is equally blunt. The editor, J. P. Sullivan, begins the introduction with the statement, “Prejudice against women, avowed or covert, institutionalized or personal, goes back to the very beginning of western culture, to its foundations in Greece, Rome, and Israel.”23 With this tone established for the volume, papers follow that trace out the development of western misogyny. Therefore, the suppression of Greek women and the suppression of Greek women poets were mutually supportive conclusions developed out of scholarship that had a firm agenda to find and study precisely these kinds of patterns. Similar views that focus on the oppression of women in ancient Greece can be found in much of the scholarship on women’s history in the 1980s and early 1990s.24

22 E. Cantarella, Pandora’s Daughters: The Role and Status of Women in Greek and Roman Antiquity, trans. M. Fant (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1981), 7. 23 J. P. Sullivan (ed.), Women in the Ancient World: The Arethusa Papers (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1984), 1. 24 See E. Keuls, The Reign of the Phallus (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1985), 82- 112; W. B. Tyrrell, Amazons: A Study in Athenian Mythmaking (Baltimore, Johns Hopkins University Press, 1984), 45; W. B. Tyrrell and F. S. Brown, Athenian Myths and Institutions:

17

In the early 1990s a re-interpretation of the Greek women poets began, as classical women’s history moved away from its early feminist origins, and the poets began to be studied as examples of a private female-oriented literary culture. Rayor argues that Korrina was writing for a specifically female audience and suggests that

Korrina saw herself as “woman-identified”.25 Snyder suggests that Sappho’s lyrics evoke the private world of women, and Skinner casts Nossis as a woman writing to other women.26 Korrina’s treatment of “masculine” topics is perceived both by Henderson and

Skinner to demonstrate an internalization of female inferiority rather than the ability to deal with heroic topics on an equal basis with male poets.27 This new interpretation was, nevertheless, still based upon the older idea that women’s voices were suppressed, and this formed the explanation of why women had to develop their own literary culture, complete with female-specific language and concerns. This new interest did occasionally lead to much more pragmatic treatments of women writers, such as Sappho’s Lyre:

Archaic Lyric and Women Poets of Ancient Greece (1991), in which the Archaic lyric poets (male and female) are presented with little comment on the inclusion of women

Words in Action (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991), 114-115. For a detailed summary of the scholarship on ancient Greek women pre-1975 see Pomeroy, Goddesses, Whores, Wives and Slaves, 58-60. Even in 1975 Pomeroy notes that the prevailing view of women in ancient Greece was one of oppression and subjugation. For examples of this, see A. W. Gomme, “The Position of Women in Athens in the Fifth and Fourth Centuries B.C.” Classical Philology 20 (1925), 1-25; M. Hadas, “Observations on Athenian Women,” Classical Weekly 39 (1936), 97-100; H. D. F. Kitto, The (London: Harmondsworth, 1951), 219-236; R. Flaceliere, Daily Life in Greece at the Time of Pericles (London, 1965), 55. 25 D. J. Rayor, “Korinna: Gender and the Narrative Tradition,” Arethusa 26:3 (1993), 222. 26 J. Snyder, “Public Occasion and Private Passion in the Lyrics of Sappho of Lesbos”; M. B. Skinner, “Nossis Thelyglossos: The Private Text and the Public Book”. Both articles are collected in Women’s History and Ancient History, ed. S. Pomeroy (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1991). 27 W. J. Henderson, “Corinna of Tanagra on poetry,” Acta Classica 38 (1995), 35-36. Henderson maintains this earlier idea proposed by Skinner. M. B. Skinner, “Corinna of Tanagra and Her Audience, ” Tulsa Studies in Women's Literature 2:1 (1983), 16.

18 beyond the fact that no other collection had sought to do so.28 But interest remained in validating women writers on female-specific or female-limited terms. Therefore, in the early 1990s, the study of women writers proposed that women in the ancient world had a female-specific literary culture, but that this culture was largely in response to their exclusion from public literary culture which was male-specific. Thus, scholarship on what might be termed the Greek female intelligentsia resolved the issue of women writers by applying a dichotomy of public/private voice upon Greek literary culture, and situating the women firmly within the private.

At the same time (the end of the 1980s and the beginning of the 1990s) the study of women writers began to expand beyond the dominant Greek poets and into the Roman sources. Snyder’s seminal book The Woman and the Lyre: Women Writers in Classical

Greece and Rome (1989) is one of the first attempts at a comprehensive survey. While predominantly focused on Greek writers, Snyder does include a chapter on Roman authors. Unfortunately, Snyder concludes that the Latin writers, although they had an improved social status, did not present the same “literary creativity” as the Greek writers.29 Nor does she provide anything close to a comprehensive survey, as she lists merely Cornelia, Sulpicia, Proba and Egeria. In effect, Snyder judged Roman women writers to be something less than their Greek counterparts, a conclusion that immediately worked to devalue the Latin authors. Snyder’s pattern was emulated by other scholars

28 D. J. Rayor, Sappho’s Lyre: Archaic Lyric and Women Poets of Ancient Greece (Berkeley: University of Berkeley Press, 1991), 2. 29 J. Snyder, The Woman and the Lyre: Women Writers in Classical Greece and Rome (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1989), 122.

19 who began to publish studies on women writers from Sappho to Julia Domna.30 The grouping together of Greek and Roman women writers is, however, highly problematic.

Theories about Greek women writers developed alongside theories of Greek women in the classical and Hellenistic periods. These conclusions were simply applied wholesale to the Roman women writers of Imperial Rome. Hence, the underlying understanding that women were writing from a place of severe suppression became a foundation of the study of the Roman female intelligentsia without considering the dramatically different role women held in Roman culture.31 Therefore, the Roman women writers have been, perhaps unintentionally, imbued with the academic assumptions drawn about classical

Greek women writers.

Interestingly enough, many of the limitations placed on Roman women writers by scholars of the last twenty years, and which are a particular feature of early gender studies, were not recognized in the discussions by scholars earlier in the twentieth century. Adcock, in his seminal survey of Roman women, published in 1945, identifies the forceful and public role women had in Roman society, and, while he does not address women writers, he does argue that women studied in a number of fields, including law and medicine, were professionally and often economically independent, and were active

30 See, for example, Women Poets in Ancient Greece and Rome, ed. Ellen Green (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 2005); E. A. Hemelrijk, Matrona Docta: Educated Women in the Roman Elite from Cornelia to Julia Domna (New York: Routledge, 1999). For studies that address Roman women writers independently of the Greek women writers see Chapter One, n. 62. 31 Consider J. Snyder, The Woman and the Lyre: Women Writers in Classical Greece and Rome, 122. Even while noting that Roman women had an improved social status to their Greek counterparts, Snyder fails to follow this up, instead concluding that the sparseness of Latin sources indicated a culture of suppression for female writers.

20 politicians.32 However, such interpretations of Roman women were for the most part discarded in the later years of the 20th century and replaced by bleaker views. Hallett concluded that Roman women and their literary counterparts “were not as a rule admired for their individual qualities, much less permitted to function autonomously or esteemed for so doing.”33 Gardner opined that there was nothing to suggest that Roman women gained “a notably high degree of economic or social independence and self- determination… during the classical period through any deliberate, traceable process.”34

Culham reaffirmed these conclusions in her study on the methods men used to emphasize the subservience of their wives.35 This inherent assumption of female suppression is firmly established by the time Clark is writing in 1993 on late antique women. She begins her introduction with a question about Roman women, “What social, practical, or legal constraints limited their [women’s] choices?”36 So, a field that had begun around the question of what Roman women could do has evolved into the question of what Roman

32 F. E. Adcock, “Women in Roman Life and Letters,” Greece & Rome 14:40 (1945), 1-11. For a view that sees Roman women as heavily involved in politics, see H. E. Wieand, “The Position of Women in the Late Roman Republic. Part I,” The Classical Journal 12:6 (1917), 378-392; H. E. Wieand, “The Position of Women in the Late Roman Republic. Part II,” The Classical Journal 12:7 (1917), 423-437. For an early discussion on the autonomous authority of Julia Domna and Julia Mamaea, see M. G. Williams, “Studies in the Lives of Roman Empresses,” American Journal of Archaeology 6:3 (1902), 259-305. On the active role of women as educators see J. B. Poynton, “Roman Education,” Greece & Rome 4:10 (1934), 1-12. On the ease with which women made independent public dedications see A. B. Hawes, “Charities and Philanthropies in the Roman Empire,” The Classical Weekly 6:23 (1913), 178-181. For opposing views in this period that concentrate on female oppression see H. W. Flannery, “Roman Women and the Vote,” The Classical Journal, 16:2 (1920), 103-107, and M. Radin, “Roman Concepts of Equality,” Political Science Quarterly 38:2 (1923), 262-289. 33 J. P. Hallett, “The Role of Women in Roman Elegy: Counter-Cultural Feminism,” in Women in the Ancient World: The Arethusa Papers, ed. J. Peradotto and J. P. Sullivan (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1984), 241. 34 J. F. Gardner, Women in and Society (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1986), 257, 263-264. 35 P. Culham, “The Ideology of Gender and Status in the ,” in Feminist Theory and the Classics, ed. N. Rabinowitz and A. Richlin (New York: Routledge, 1993), 62. 36 G. Clark, Women in Late Antiquity: Pagan and Christian Life-styles (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993), 1.

21 women could not do. Current conceptions of Roman women, being largely dependent upon conceptions of Greek women and, hence, current conceptions of Roman women writers, have been resolved into questions about limitations.37

The public/private dichotomy imposed on Roman women writers through studies of their Greek counterparts, and reinforced by similar academic attitudes about Roman women more generally, has necessitated their firm entrenchment within the so-called private sphere.38 This is problematic for two reasons. Firstly, it arbitrarily defines the nature of all female-authored texts without regard for their content or purpose, which has caused a misinterpretation and in some cases a devaluing of what women are writing, and, secondly, it forces the perpetuation of a polemicized interpretation of Roman literary culture that is a severe oversimplification, if not an outright fabrication. Ultimately, then, women writers from Roman antiquity are being approached through a methodology born out of the scholarship from the 1970s and 1980s on Greek women poets. To rephrase,

Imperial and late Roman women authors are being approached as contextually equivalent to classical Greek women authors. The viability of such a methodology is highly suspect.

There is a need, therefore, to bring a new approach to these authors. To begin, ideas about the private nature of female voice, which developed out of historical studies of Greek women, need to be measured against the Roman context. Is it appropriate to identify a circumscription of Roman women’s voice to the “private” sphere? On the most general level, epigraphical evidence argues to the contrary. Simply put, if Roman women were unable to express themselves publicly, they should not have been able to dedicate

37 See, for examples, nn. 7, 15 above. 38 Even the most current works tend to espouse this division. See E. D’Ambra, Roman Women (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), esp. 59-60, 142.

22 public inscriptions. However, there are numerous examples of women who had their own names and thoughts inscribed in stone.39 The epigraphical evidence demonstrates a cultural heritage of public voice for Roman women incongruous with strict seclusion. A public presence is also found for women through . On their tombs and on their sarcophagi women are increasingly being recognized as publicly identifying themselves and, in particular, their careers. Kampen’s work on funerary art in Ostia has demonstrated both that women worked in a multitude of public careers and that they were proud of their jobs and felt perfectly uninhibited in identifying them publicly.40 In addition, many of the texts written by women, including all the major late antique texts discussed below, are clearly intended for a public reception. Proba, for example, takes efforts to ensure that her work is not regarded as an attempt by her to become famous. At least, so I understand the import of her ironically self-effacing introduction, which is an example of an ancient rhetorical topos. She begins her work with the declaration that she is not writing to gain fame or praise.41 It is unclear why she would write this modest statement unless she had some expectation of an audience. She would hardly have needed to insert such a section

39 E. P. Forbis, “Women’s Public Image in Italian Honorary Inscriptions,” The American Journal of Philology 111:4 (1990), 493-512. For women as epigraphic authors, see Appendix A. 40 N. Kampen, Image and Status: Roman Working Women in Ostia (Berlin: Gebr. Mann Verlag, 1981), 33-51, 130. On the use of art by elite Roman women in relation to Imperial cult, see E. A. Hemelrijk, “Local Empresses: Priestesses of the Imperial Cult in the Cities of the Latin West,” Phoenix 61: 3/4 (2007), 318-349. These studies challenge the views held by Lefkowitz and Van Bremen, who do not see a connection between public dedications or images and public authority. See M. Lefkowitz, “Influential Women,” 56-57 and R. Van Bremen, “Women and Wealth,” 236- 237 both published in Images of Women in Antiquity, ed. Av. Cameron and A. Kurht (London: Croom Helm, 1983). It should be noted that both Lefkowitz and Van Bremen discuss Greek and Roman women as a homogeneous group, which, as discussed above, is problematic for their conclusions about Roman women. 41 Proba, Cento, 17-18. “For my task is not to extend my fame with words/ Or to seek some small praise from human favor” (Nullus enim labor est verbis extendere famam/ atque hominum studiis parvam disquirere laudem). Unless noted all translations in this thesis are my own.

23 into a work that only she or her immediate family was ever going to read.42 In fact, Proba may be deliberately drawing a contrast between herself and such poets as and

Ovid, who are clear in their expectations of fame.43 Proba’s expectations for the publicality of her poem were very much met. A copy of Proba’s text was publicly sent to the emperor Theodosius, and her work was widely known.44 Therefore, it is inaccurate to privatize the voices of Roman women, and Roman women authors, when much of the extant source material does not support it.

In short, the recognition of the public nature of inscriptions made by and for women, the art representing women and commissioned by women, and the texts written by women, requires that the role that women held in Roman society be reassessed. The public, and deliberate, promulgation of women’s voice challenges assumptions that females were supposed to keep their identities private. This misunderstanding of the gender dynamics in Rome has resulted in women writers being approached with preconceived notions about their texts, before their texts are even seriously studied, with the result that authors such as Agrippina or Proba are immediately assigned to the private world. Inherent in female-authored works is the idea, in the normal scholarly view, that

42 On the unattractiveness of seeming over-proud of one’s eloquence, see , Inst. 11.1.15. It is equally possible that Proba is showing humility for her Christian topic. See, for example, , HE, 1.1.4 (Patrologiae Graecae (PG), 20.49) (trans. A. Cushman McGiffert, Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Second Series, vol. 1., ed. P. Schaff and H. Wace (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1890): “ But at the outset I must crave for my work the indulgence of the wise, for I confess that it is beyond my power to produce a perfect and complete history, and since I am the first to enter upon the subject, I am attempting to traverse as it were a lonely and untrodden path” (Αλλά µοι συγγνώµην ἤδη εὐγνωµονῶν ἐντεῦθεν ὁ λόγος αὶτεῖ, µεῖζον καθ᾿ ηµετέραν δύναµιν οµολογῶν εἶναι, τὴν ἐπαγγελίαν ἐντελῆ καὶ ἀπαράλειπτον ὐποσχήσειν). 43 See Horace, Odes 3.30; , Metamorphoses 15.871ff. 44 On the transmission of Proba’s cento to the eastern court see J. Vanderspoel, “Proba,” in The Cambridge Dictionary of Classical Civilization, ed. G. Shipley, J. Vanderspoel, D. Mattingly and L. Foxhall (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 723. For the popularity of her work see , Ep. 53.7.

24 the authors’ female gender equates to a voice that is limited, constrained and private.45

The actual purposes of the texts are very often passed over, in particular those from Late

Antiquity, which are so far removed from the time period upon which these assumptions are based (in essence, classical and Hellenistic Greece) that it is hard to find any relevance in them. Additionally, since these texts rarely fit easily into the private, subjective sphere, it has generally been regarded as necessary to justify or explain away aspects of these texts that do not mesh with ideas about private voice.46 Therefore, in light of the effects of this grossly misleading and largely academically constructed dichotomy, Roman women writers are generally misunderstood. To my mind this argues for the deletion of the arbitrary categories of public and private, and suggests instead an interpretation of Roman women writers which recognizes that they functioned on a broader plane of Roman society than is generally acknowledged.

The impact that current methodologies have had on the study of Roman women writers is not confined merely to theoretical considerations. In some instances the influence has been as basic as choosing a particular translation to describe the genre of a work by a woman. Agrippina the Younger is reported as having written commentarii.

These are not extant but are used as a source by and Pliny.47 This is a genre that

45 This unfortunate tendency is touched upon by Churchill, Brown and Jeffrey in Women Writing Latin, Vol.1, ed. L. J. Churchill, P. H. Brown and J. E. Jeffrey (New York: Routledge, 2002), 7. They note that the study of women writers has been “a disparate, halting activity,” and that “women writing Latin are usually considered accidental and anomalous.” 46 For specific examples of this see below, p. 24-29. 47 The information used is slight. Tacitus refers to her work when he recounts ’ refusal of Agrippina the Elder’s request to marry again. Tacitus, Annals, 4.53 (trans. Loeb): “This fact, not noticed by the writers of history, I have found in the commentarii of Agrippina the younger, the mother of the emperor Nero, who recorded for posterity her life and the history of her family” (Id ego, a scriptoribus annalium non traditum, repperi in commentariis Agrippinae filiae quae Neronis principis mater vitam suam et casus suorum posteris memoravit). Pliny offers another

25 originated out of the notes governors and magistrates kept of their political activities and was used by politicians to increase their prestige. Of key interest is that they were written for the purpose of public dissemination. “The commentarii were a sub-literary genre: though written for a public they pretended to be nothing but rough notes for others to turn into full history (or as some writers of commentarii hoped, an epic) and, therefore, they were usually written in a plain, factual style.”48 It is not surprising that a woman as powerful and influential as Agrippina would produce such a work. However, rather than regard Agrippina’s work as commentarii, as was allowed for men like , her work is referred to by modern scholars as a diary, as her personal reflections on her family.49

simple fact taken from her work, that Nero was born breech. Pliny, NH, 7.46 (trans. Loeb): “Nero also, who was emperor a short time before and who was an enemy to all of mankind during his rule, was born feet first so his mother Agrippina writes” (Neronem quoque, paulo ante principem et toto principatu suo hostem generis humani, pedibus genitum scribit parens eius Agrippina). For a comprehensive monograph on Agrippina see A. Barrett, Agrippina: Sex, Power, and Politics in the Early Empire (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1996). On Tacitus and Pliny’s use of her work, see Barrett, 234-235. E. A. Hemelrijk, Matrona Docta: Educated Women in the Roman Elite from Cornelia to Julia Domna, 186-188. There have been some efforts to find additional traces of Agrippina’s work. J. Griffin, Nero: The End of a Dynasty (London: Batsford, 1984), 23, suggests that several of the positive anecdotes about Agrippina and Nero in (Nero 6.1), Tacitus (Ann. 11.11.3), and (NH 7.71) are actually based on her work. Likewise, J. Clack, “To those who fell on Aggripina’s pen,” Classical Weekly 69 (1975), 45-53, suggests that used her work as a source for his details on the private lives of the Claudians. 48 E. A. Hemelrijk, Matrona Docta: Educated Women in the Roman Elite from Cornelia to Julia Domna, 187. The OLD offers several definitions for commentarius: “1) a notebook. private journal, historical record or journal; 2) a public record book kept by magistrates, priests, etc.; 3) a treastise, textbook, expository treatise, commentary; 4) notes, jottings, a collection of notes, memorandum.” While the word appears in both singular and plural forms, the general convention is to refer to the genre in plural. See Lewis and Short, commentarius (2): “as the title of a book on any subject, esp. historical, which is only sketched down or written without care (mostly in plur.)” It should be noted that the majority of definitions for this genre denote a public text. For a general introduction to commentarii, see J. Rüpke, “Commentarii,” in Brill’s New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2012). 49 See, for example, E. A. Hemelrijk, Matrona Docta: Educated Women in the Roman Elite from Cornelia to Julia Domna, 185. Hemelrijk, while identifying the text as commentarii, still refers to Agrippina’s work as memoir. For comparison, on Caesar’s commentarii see V. J. Cleary, “Caesar's "Commentarii": Writings in Search of a Genre,” The Classical Journal, 80:4 (1985),

26

Clearly her subject matter was familial, but her choice of genre was a public one and should be recognized as such. So, belief that women had no choice but to write in the private sphere forces the transition of Agrippina’s work from political propaganda to a much less aggressive type of work. Scholars recognize that the texts of women were known publicly, but have to scramble to reconcile this public presence with the author’s supposed inability to be public and so end up with unsatisfactory accounts of work that often diminish the author.

Perpetua is another example of the contradictions that a public/private dichotomy forces onto texts written by women. While her text has certainly been studied from a number of productive and interesting angles, there is still a prevailing tendency to try to identify in her diary specifically female concerns to the point that what Perpetua herself writes is disregarded. Such inquiry is based on the assumption that Perpetua was being pulled from her appropriate private world to a public death, and as such must have been deeply torn.50 Salisbury’s Perpetua’s Passion: The Death and Memory of a Young

Roman Woman is particularly fixated on the struggle Perpetua faced in denying her womanhood to become a martyr.51 Likewise, Rader goes to great lengths to define the text in terms of a ‘feminine experience.’52 Rarely is it emphasized that Perpetua is a grown woman doing precisely what she wishes and that while she is deeply sorry to

esp. 346-347, in which Cleary explores the nuances of commentarii as a genre and Caesar’s use of the form. 50 J. E. Salisbury, Perpetua’s Passion: The Death and Memory of a Young Roman Woman (New York: Routledge, 1997), 8. 51 Ibid. 52 R. Rader, “The Martyrdom of Perpetua: a Protest Account of Third-Century Christianity,” in A Lost Tradition: Women Writers of the Early Church, ed. P. Wilson-Kastner (Lanham: University Press of America, 1981), 3-4. Similar ideas are expressed by M. R. Lefkowitz and M. B. Fant, Women’s Lives in Greece and Rome, (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1982), 214- 219.

27 sadden her family, she displays little sense of internal conflict for her actions.53

Perpetua’s voice is public and didactic and unapologetic, and she writes with the expectation that her work will be read for inspiration.54 There is little to suggest, other than the gender of the author, that she struggled to do so. Rather, it appears that modern scholars have applied this conflict to the text. Therefore, rather than recognize that

Perpetua is casting herself as an exemplum for Christians, instead she is more often perceived as a victim of the public/private dichotomy.55

Lastly, Proba has been almost completely overlooked as a serious author, because her text has rarely been viewed as anything but a devotional exercise by a Christian woman.56 As a result, studies of Proba and her text have concentrated more on

53 An exception to this is H. Sigismund-Nielsen, “Vibia Perpetua–An Indecent Woman,” in Perpetua’s Passions, ed. J. Bremmer and M. Formisiano (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 103. Sigismund-Nieslen bluntly states that Perpetua “appears outspoken and independent in her confrontations with her father and with the authorities, and courageous when meeting her death in the arena.” 54 Passio S. Perpetuae. The Latin edition of the text can be found in J. A. Robinson, Passio Perpetuae: Texts and Studies I.2 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1891; reprint 1981). Consider, for example, the tone in the visions that Perpetua describes in chapters 4, 7 and 8, which is highly evangelical. Perpetua’s expectation that her work is going to be read is also implied in the concluding statement in chapter 10.15: “This I did in the days leading up to the games: about what happened in the games themselves, let whomever write of them what he wishes” (Hoc usque in pridie muneris egi; ipsius autem muneris actum, si quis uoluerit, scribat). Presumably, Perpetua, would not have added the encouragement to others to write as they wished, if she did not expect anyone to read the text. The implication is not that someone can write what he wishes, but that whoever wants to can write, which indeed implies an audience larger than one. 55 For further discussion on this see Chapter One, p. 58-62. 56 H. Sivan suggests that Proba was writing to demonstrate the firm Christianity of herself and her family: “Anician Women, the Cento of Proba, and Aristocratic Conversion in the Fourth Century,” Vigiliae Christianae 47:2 (1993), 154. J. Schnapps suggests that Proba was writing to show that the world operated on a divine plan: “Reading Lessons: Augustine, Proba, and the Christian detournement of antiquity,” Stanford Literature Review 9 (1992), 111. For a rare rejection of these views see D. V. Meconi, “The Christian Cento and the Evangelization of Christian Culture,” Logos: A Journal of Catholic Thought and Culture 7:4 (2004), 123-124. This dismissive tendency is less prevalent in the scholarship on the later Greek centoist Eudocia. See M. D. Usher, Homeric Stitchings: The Homeric Centos of the Empress Eudocia (Lantham:

28 philological analysis of the text itself and biographical issues of the author.57 However, as stated above, Proba was writing publicly, and failure to recognize and accept this fact has led to considerable blindness as to the point and cultural complexity of her text. Arguing that these texts are authoritative and didactic raises the purpose of their composition to something beyond a literary exercise. Proba is presenting her interpretations on religious matters, offering to the public a way of understanding the Bible. Hence her cento, more than being simply devotional, falls into the realm of a theological text.58 When texts are viewed in this light, the complexity of their form becomes immediately apparent. Firstly, cento provided Proba with a degree of textual authority to participate in theological debate. Cento as a form drew upon the authority of the original author (such as Homer or

Virgil) to validate the opinions of the author writing the cento. This was a major reason for much of the criticism launched against it. 59 However, beyond this, her choice of form is highly suggestive of her intended audience. In antiquity, and Homer were points around which Christians and non-Christians exchanged debate. They represented the intellectual heritage common to both pagan and Christian and as such were employed by

University Press of America, 1998); M. D. Usher, “Prolegomenon to the Homeric Centos,” The American Journal of Philology 118:2 (1997), 314-315. 57 The debate surrounding the date and identity of Proba is fierce. For a summary of the various views see: T. D. Barnes, “An Urban and his Wife,” Classical Quarterly 56:1 (2006), 249- 256; R. P. H. Green, “Proba’s Cento: Its Date, Purpose, and Reception,” Classical Quarterly 45:2 (1995), 551-63; D. Shanzer, “The Date and Identity of the Centonist Proba,” Recherche Augustiniennes 27 (1994), 75-96. 57 R. P. H. Green, “Proba’s Introduction to Her Cento,” Classical Quarterly 47:1, 548-559. 58 M. D. Usher, Homeric Stitchings: The Homeric Centos of the Empress Eudocia, 86. 59 See , De Praescriptione Haereticorum, 39, 3: “You see today, composed from Virgil, a story of a completely different character, with material arranged according to verse and verse according to material” (Vides hodie ex Virgilio fabulam in totum aliam componi, materiam secundum versus et versibus secundum materiam concinnatis). For further discussion, see R. L. Wilken, “The Homeric Cento in Irenaeus, ‘Adversus Haereses’ I,9,4,” Vigiliae Christianae 21:1 (1967), 26.

29 both sides to advance their ideas and communicate with one another.60 This interpretation, however, is only possible if Proba is not viewed as being restrained from having a public voice. If she is forced within the public/private dichotomy, her texts become less sophisticated and more problematic, in the sense that the public elements cannot be fully understood.

From this very small handful of examples two points arise. Firstly, none of the texts mentioned are entirely “private”; inherent to each is the expectation (in form if nothing else) that it will be presented in a public context. Secondly, even while acknowledging that these authors were widely known, many scholars still approach these texts as products of women and as such either disregard them as serious literature or take them as examples of marginalized female voice. Therefore, without denying the impact gender had on factors such as literary form and educational background, it seems evident that current methodologies based upon the public/private dichotomy and the isolation of female voice are perpetuating false interpretations of female writers.

Ultimately, then, the division of the Roman world into public and private, and the subsequent division of the genders into a masculine public sphere and a feminine private sphere, is problematic. There is very little actual evidence to indicate that such firm separation ever existed, and there is much evidence to suggest the active participation of men and women in both public and private life. The permeability of this division, and the strong possibility that it only ever existed as an ideal, suggests that it is a concept which

60 R. L. Wilken, “The Homeric Cento in Irenaeus, ‘Adversus Haereses’ I,9,4,” 25; J. Daniélou, Message évangélique et culture hellénistique aux IIe et IIIe siècles (Tournai: Desclée & Cie., 1961), 73-101.

30 has little actual bearing in reality.61 Rather than approach Roman women writers from this perspective, it seems critical to start from an understanding of Roman society based upon its own evidence, and not that of Greece. This requires the recognition that, for upper-class Romans (including women), public life was a reality. Private life was a matter of public knowledge and idealized domestic behavior was part of a person’s public image. The resolution of the public/private dichotomy, and the recognition that a large portion of the idea was born out of the course of twentieth-century scholarship, allows for a more accurate and honest interpretation of texts written by women. It allows Agrippina to write political commentary instead of personal reflections, Perpetua to present her life as a public exemplum rather than just a renunciation of her sex, and Proba to be as much

61 K. Milnor, Gender, Domesticity, and the Age of : Inventing Private Life (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 27. Milnor draws on a number of earlier works that focus on the lack of an actual restrictive division between public and private life, including: N. Purcell, "Livia and the Womanhood of Rome," Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society 32 (1986), 78-105; S. Fischler, "Social Stereotypes and Historical Analysis: The Case of the Imperial Women,” in Women in Ancient Societies: An Illusion of the Night, ed. L. Archer, S. Fischler and M. Wyke (New York, 1994). 115-133; B. Severy, Augustus and the Family and the Birth of the Roman Empire (New York: Routledge, 2003), 232-243. For discussion on the private/public dichotomy in terms of actual spaces, see J. Berry, “Household Artifacts: Re-interpreting Roman Domestic Space,” in Domestic Space in the Roman World: and Beyond, ed. R. Laurence and A. Wallace-Hadrill (Journal of Roman Studies suppl. 22, 1997), 183-185, and, Y. Thébert, “Private and Public Spaces: The Components of the Domus,” in A History of Private Life: From Pagan Rome to Byzantium, ed. P. Veyne (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1987), esp. 353-354. For an application of this debate onto Roman garden spaces, see J. H. D’Arms, “Between Public and Private: The Epulum Publicum and Caesar’s Horti trans Tiberim,” in Horti Romani, ed. M. Cima and E. La Rocca (Rome: L’Erma di Bretschneider, 1998), 33. In conjunction with this are questions about the gendering of Roman spaces. See, for example, B. Kellum, “Concealing/Revealing: Gender and the Play of Meanings in the Monuments of Augustan Rome,” in The Roman Cultural Revolution, ed. T. N. Habinek and A. Schiesaro (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 180-181, and also, “The Phallus as Signifier: The of Augustus and Rituals of Masculinity,” in Sexuality in Ancient Art, ed. N. Kampen (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 170-183. On the depictions of private scenes in public art as a form of female authority see, E. D’Ambra, Private Lives, Imperial Virtues: The Frieze of the Forum Transitorium in Rome (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993), 100- 102. For additional bibliography and discussion see Chapter Five, n. 648.

31 an evangelical missionary as a very pious woman. Once the arbitrary public/private division is removed, and the obligatory definition of women’s voice as private is discarded, many of the inconsistencies and problems scholars find in these texts disappear. In conjunction with this, it is now time to bring the study of female intellectuals and writers in Rome out of the generally negative interpretations based on the early studies of feminist historians, which concentrate on the subjugation and oppression of the female voice, and to move to a more positive interpretation that places these texts within a far more complex dynamic of gender, genre and society. While previous work on female writers has been absolutely essential in proving the validity and importance of these texts, and has established a field of research, it is vital now to reassess these texts without the reactionary agendas that are so prevalent in earlier studies and which inherently limit the scope of these texts.

Therefore, I propose a methodology built around three assumptions. Firstly, that the dynamics of gender in Roman society are not adequately represented by a bipolar division of men and women into public and private spheres. Rather, textual evidence supports an interpretation of a highly public realm of affairs occupied by both men and women. Secondly, that the privatization of women’s voice by scholars often distorts textual analysis and as such should be applied cautiously. Female voice is not a private matter, and isolation and circumscription should not be an inherent assumption placed on all the texts written by women. Thirdly, that it is much more constructive and instructive to explore the possibilities rather than the limitations of texts. Rather than study the texts for examples of how women were restricted, it is better to study the texts for evidence of how Roman women were successfully participating in the intellectual dialogues of their

32 time. Such a methodology allows for Roman women writers, within the larger field of

Roman women and Roman gender, to be approached in a balanced and pragmatic manner, where their texts are given the possibility to be assessed on equal terms with those written by men rather than immediately categorized as different because of the author’s gender. This does not mean discounting gender, but, rather, developing a much more complex and realistic understanding of how gender dynamics functioned in Roman society.

The purpose of this approach is to form a methodology grounded on specifically

Roman evidence and focused on a specifically Roman context, and, thus, to prevent an inadvertent blending together of Greek and Roman women, which, as has been demonstrated above, is problematic. It also redirects the study of Roman women from exclusive to inclusive questioning. If Roman women are studied through their limitations, the conclusions of the study are, necessarily, limited also, because the line of inquiry has a predetermined answer. However, if Roman women are studied through their possibilities, even when the conclusions are negative, the results have not been shaped by a preordained expectation, and therefore have more validity. To this end, the dissolution of the public/private dichotomy and the subsequent lessening of emphasis on isolation and restriction is a positive and constructive development for the study of Roman women and Roman women writers and the dynamics of gender in Roman society.

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CHAPTER ONE: APPROACHING ROMAN WOMEN WRITERS

This chapter situates the early Christian women writers within the broader context of Roman women writers as a whole. It begins by providing a concise survey of women authors (or possible women authors) and the various means by which female-authored works were preserved or recorded, and draws attention to both the range of disciplines in which women wrote and the difficulty, if not impossibility, of accessing many of their texts. Having discussed their literary predecessors, the chapter then moves on to treat

Perpetua, Proba, and Egeria in some depth and to outline the various issues and challenges in approaching their texts, particularly in terms of determining identity and date. Contextualizing the early Christian authors in this manner not only serves to illustrate the existence of a strong literary tradition for Roman women, but also draws attention to the fact that the late antique texts appear as an anomaly in this tradition, both in their content and in their preservation, a feature that will be explored at length in later chapters. Thus, this chapter constructs the basic framework for Roman women writers and, having done so, suggests that the late antique women writers often fail to fall into these historical parameters.

Roman Women Writers: An Overview

Women writers from Late Antiquity had an extensive, and eclectic, tradition of earlier female authors to draw from. Evidence remains to suggest nearly fifty female

34 authors who were active between the first and fifth centuries AD.62 These women wrote on a variety of topics in a variety of forms and suggest that female literary pursuits were, if not precisely common, certainly still within the bounds of normalcy for the Romans.

As a source group of extant texts, however, they are admittedly quite poor. Prior to the late antique works there are no major extant texts written by Roman women. Rather, their works survive only as paraphrases and references in the texts of male authors, who are using them as sources. Sections of the commentarii of Agrippina and of Pamphila (c. AD

50) have been preserved as paraphrases in other works.63 The gynecological works of a number of midwives including Salpe, Elephantis, Lais, Olympias, and Sotira – all writing before AD 79 – appear as paraphrases in Pliny the Elder’s work. Likewise, paraphrases the medical writers Fabulla, Maia, Samithra and Xanite, who all wrote before

62 Collected works of Roman women writers are quite rare. By far the most comprehensive anthology is that of I. M. Plant, Women Writers of Ancient Greece and Rome (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 2004). Plant provides an extensive, albeit undiscerning, list of women credited with writing in ancient Greece and Rome. For his complete listing see pg. 252. Complementary to Plant’s work is the first volume of Women Writing Latin, ed. L. J. Churchill. P. R. Brown and J. E. Jeffrey (New York: Routledge, 2002), which provides a collection of translations and commentary on select Roman women writers. A Lost Tradition: Women Writers of the Early Church, ed. Wilson-Kastner et al., (Lantham: University Press of America, 1981) provides translation and commentary on the late antique religious texts (Perpetua, Proba, Egeria and Eudocia), within the framework of faith-based scholarship. Some crossover into the late antique texts of women can also be found in P. Dronke, Women Writers of the Middle Ages: A Critical Study of Texts from Perpetua to Marguerite Porete (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984), 1-35, and in J. Stevenson, Women Latin Poets: Language, Gender, and Authority, from Antiquity to the Eighteenth Century (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 29-76. 63 Agrippina’s commentarii are mentioned by both Tactitus and Pliny. See p. 22, n.36 in the introduction for the full texts. Fragments of Pamphila’s commentarii are preserved in Diogenes Laertius, Life of Pittacus, 3; , Attic Nights, 25.17, 25.23 and Photius, Library, 175 cod. 119. An entry also exists for her in the Suda. For the collected fragments, see C. Müller, Fragmenta Historicorum Graecorum, III (Paris: A. Firmin Didot, 1849), 520-522. See also M. Baumbach, "Pamphila," Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2011), which notes its use in the epitomes of Favorinus and Sopater. For an English translation of the fragments see I. M. Plant, Women Writers of Ancient Greece and Rome, 127-129.

35

AD 210.64 Sometimes authors also provide what they claim are direct quotes from the work of a woman, such as (first century AD) in of Panopolis’ and

Olympiodorus’s works, or Cleopatra (c. AD 64) in Galen, Aetius and Paulus of Aegina.65

The manner of textual preservation does not then allow for much comment on the original authors or their texts. Nor does it, it must be admitted, prove the existence of each of these authors beyond a doubt. In many instances, as with Agrippina, there is no doubt that the woman cited did exist, but in other cases, authors claim to be paraphrasing works of women otherwise unknown in Roman history and some care must be taken. For example, the numerous women credited by Pliny as writing medical texts largely appear only within his work.66 Of the women he mentions, that is, Salpe, Elephantis, Lais,

Olympias and Sotira, none can be convincingly identified outside of his work. There is the possibility that the Elephantis Pliny refers to is the same Elephantis who appears in

Martial and Suetonius. Pliny references her within his discussion on the uses of menstrual fluids as abortives, stating that she provides examples of how menstrual blood can cause sterility.67 mentions an Elephantis as the author of a sex manual, “the amorous

64 For English translations of many of these fragments see I. M. Plant, Women Writers of Ancient Greece and Rome, 159-163. 65 On Maria see R. Patai, “Maria the Jewess: Founding Mother of Alchemy,” Ambix 29 (1982), 177-197; J. Lindsay, The Origins of Alchemy in Graeco-Roman Egypt (London: Muller, 1970), 240-252. For further discussion see below nn. 82, 83. 66 The challenges of determining the veracity of the female medical writers is treated at length in R. Flemming, “Women, Writing and Medicine in the Classical World,” Classical Quarterly 57 (2007), 257-279. Flemming builds on the earlier work of H. Parker, ‘Women Doctors in Greece, Rome, and the ,’ in Women Healers and Physicians: Climbing a Long Hill, ed. L. R. Furst (Lexington, KY, 1997), 131–50, and argues that the textual references to female medical writers demonstrate the possibility of a real corpus of literary female medical practitioners. See Flemming p. 278-279. However, Flemming acknowledges the difficulties in proving anything beyond this. Other scholars doubt the existence of any of the women paraphrased in the medical texts and consider them literary tools of male authors. See L. Dean- Jones, Women’s Bodies in Classical Greek Science (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994), 33. 67 Pliny, NH. 28.81.

36 books of Elephantis,/ Wherein new examples of sexual acts are recorded” (Nec molles

Elephantidos libelli,/ Sunt illic Veneris novae figurae).68 Suetonius comments that

Tiberius was a fan of the work of an Elephantis, “He had several rooms decorated with pictures and statues in the most lascivious poses, and furnished with the books of

Elephantis, that none might lack an example for the completion of any lewd act that was prescribed him.”69 Elephantis’ association with erotic texts is made even clearer in a

Priapean epigram that mentions, “obscene pictures from Elephantis’ books” (tabellas ductas ex Elephantidos libellis).70 But whether this Elephantis is also the source for Pliny is unclear. Soranus refers to a certain Philista, whom some scholars associate with

Elephantis, as a great medical writer and teacher. Philista was apparently so beautiful that she taught from behind a curtain, but the connection to Pliny’s Elephantis is tenuous at best.71 Galen also cites an Elephantis during a discussion about cosmetics, who may or may not be the same person.72 The lack of any historical personage, however, leaves only a name associated with erotica and women’s concerns.73 Lais is an equally eroticized

68 Martial, Epig. 12.43, 1-4 69 Suetonius, Tiberius, 43.2 (trans. Loeb): Cubicula plurifariam disposita tabellis ac sigillis lasciuissimarum picturarum et figurarum adornauit librisque Elephantidis instruxit, ne cui in opera edenda exemplar impe[t]ratae schemae deesset. 70 Priapaea 4. 71 The association between Philista and Elephantis is made by K. Hurd-Mead, A History of Women in Medicine: From the Earliest times to the Beginning of the Nineteenth Century (1938), 41 and is continued by certain scholars today. See J. V. Ricci, The Development of Gynæcological Surgery and Instruments (San Francisco: Norman Publishing, 1990), 31. 72 Galen, 12.416. 73 For further discussion of Elephantis and erotica see H. Obermayer, "Pornography," Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2011). For the English translation of passages dealing with Elephantis and a short commentary on her identity see W. H. Parker, Priapea: Poems for a Phallic God (New York: Croom Helm, 1988), 73, and M. Johnson and T. Ryan, Sexuality in Greek and Roman Society and Literature: A Sourcebook (New York: Routledge, 2005), 179.

37 name, referring to one of the most famous prostitutes from the Classical Greek period.74

Pliny refers to her twice, once in the same passage on menstrual blood and its abortive powers where he cites Elephantis, and a second time on the ability of menstrual blood to cure dog bites and malaria.75 As with Elephantis, the use of a female name well associated with erotica seems somewhat suspect. Flemming draws attention to the lack of concrete evidence that either Elephantis or Lais were actual authors, concluding that they were most likely named by Pliny because of their sexual connotations to add authority to passages dealing with female sexuality.76 There is little to suggest however that Pliny tended to create sources. Rather, he is more often criticized for his unquestioning acceptance of source material.77 Therefore, it seems much more plausible to suppose that

Pliny did have sources with Lais and Elephantis named as authors, whatever these sources actually were.

Of Olympias and Sotira, no evidence of their existence remains outside of Pliny’s references to them. Pliny cites Olympias three times in books 20-28, including her remedies for purging, her fertility treatment, a cure which required a woman’s genitals to be rubbed “before intercourse with bull’s gall and snakes’ fat and copper-rust and

74 She appears in the Suda’s list of famous hetaerae. See also Plut. Nicias, 15.4, and Anth. Pal. 6.1, 18, 19, 71, 7.218, 219, 222, 229, 9.260. 75 Pliny, NH. 7.64. 76 R. Flemming, “Women, Writing and Medicine in the Classical World,” 275. Flemming challenges the rather more optimistic view of H. Parker, ‘Women doctors in Greece, Rome, and the Byzantine Empire,” 137–8, who follows G. E. R. Lloyd, Science, Folklore, and Ideology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983), 60, in suggesting that these women were real authors. 77 T. J. Allen, “Pliny the Elder,” in The Cambridge Dictionary of Classical Civilization, ed. G. Shipley, J. Vanderspoel, D. Mattingly and L. Foxhall (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 690.

38 honey,” and her recipe for inducing abortion.78 Sotira is only mentioned once, in the context of uses for menstrual fluids. According to her, menstrual blood could be used to cure malaria and to revive someone from an epileptic seizure.79

The final author whom Pliny cites is Salpe, who offers treatments on a range of maladies. Pliny refers to six of her cures, the use of saliva to treat joint stiffness, the use of urine as an eye wash and also for sunburn, the use of menstrual fluid for malaria, how to make an aphrodisiac out of a donkey’s penis, her recipe for depilatory cream, and how to stop a dog from barking.80 There is a slight possibility that this Salpe is the same Salpe whom Athenaeus identifies as an inhabitant of Lesbos and the author of a paignion, a sort of frivolous text.81 This connection has been explored both by Davidson and Bain to suggest an actual identity for Salpe; however, as with the other medical writers it is difficult to prove that Salpe did write the paignion that was a source for Pliny.82

Therefore, it remains uncertain whether Pliny is paraphrasing works written by actual women, or whether these sources merely have female names attached to them.

Except for Salpe, the women are used solely as a reference for female concerns surrounding female sexuality, and certainly it could be argued that the use of women as

78 Pliny, NH. 28.246, 28. 253, 28.226. On Olympias see also V. Nutton, “Olympias,” Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2011). Flemming suggests a possible connection between this Olympias and Olympias the mother of Alexander the Great, but is unconvincing. See R. Flemming, “Women, Writing and Medicine in the Classical World,” 273. 79 Pliny, NH. 28.83. On the possible connection between Pliny’s Sotira and the Sotira in Soranus see R. Flemming, “Women, Writing and Medicine in the Classical World,” 277. 80 Pliny, NH. 28. 35, 67, 77-86, 262. 81 Athenaeus, 7.322a. 82 For a discussion on the connection between the Salpe in Pliny and the Salpe in Athenaeus, see J. Davidson, “Don’t Try This at Home: Pliny’s Salpe, Salpe’s Paignia and Magic,” Classical Quarterly 45 (1995), 590–2. Davidson’s suggestion that Salpe was an author is refuted by D. Bain, “Salpe’s Paignia: Athenaeus 322A and Pliny N.H. 28.38,” Classical Quarterly 48 (1998), 262–8.

39 sources added support, whether the women existed or not. That being said, it seems equally possible that Pliny is using texts written by women that have survived only though Pliny. Certainly numerous texts written by men have survived in this manner, and, particularly in light of the generally meticulous use of sources by Pliny, there seems no need to dismiss these female authors outright.

A similar issue arises in identifying many of the women cited in Galen’s work.

Maia, Samithra and Xanite are each cited by Galen as sources. Galen cites Maia’s recipe for a skin cream and Samithra’s and Xanite’s recipes for a medicine for anal issues.83

Galen also cites two recipes from a woman named Fabulla, a recipe for soap and a recipe for medicine, both to treat disease of the spleen, dropsy, sciatica and gout.84 While the first three women face the same challenges of historicity that were discussed in relation to

Pliny’s sources, there is a possibility that Fabulla was historical. Unlike the other women,

Galen specifically identifies her, as a Libyan (13.250). Galen also identifies her recipe for a special soap as being her version of yet another midwife’s recipes, that of Antiochis.85

Fabulla also uses Roman weights and measures in her recipe and has a Roman name, which has led to the suggestion that she might have been writing in Latin.86 Therefore, as

83 Galen, 13.840, 13.310, 13.311. Very little work has been done on these three women. The correlation between Maia and µαῖα (midwife) raises the real possibility that Galen is not referring to a specific woman. For a general discussion of the terminology, see M. Stol, and V. Nutton, "Midwife," Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider. Brill, 2011. Neither Samithra or Xanite appear in other sources, nor are they featured in secondary scholarship. 84 Galen, 13.250. 85 This Antiochis seems to have been a famous healer from the first-century AD. She set up a statue of herself in Tlos, Lycia, with an inscription proclaiming her talents. See E. Kalinka, Tituli Lycia: Tituli Asiae Minores, II (Vienna: Hoelder-Pichler-Tempsky, 1901), 223, n. 595; V. Nutton, "Antiochis," Brill's New Pauly. ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2011). 86 I. M. Plant, Women Writers in Ancient Greece and Rome, 159. It should be noted, however, that this is a highly tenuous suggestion, as the of her recipe could reflect Galen’s authorship as much as her own.

40 with Pliny, the impression formed from Galen is that of an active involvement of women with medical texts, but very little information on these women and their works.

Support for the existence of their texts might be drawn from other medical texts with female authors that appear to have been well-known. Cleopatra’s Cosmetics appears to have been a popular reference book, written in the first century AD. As with the sources discussed above, there is a need to be critical as to identifying the author’s name with a historical woman. Cleopatra was a common Egyptian name, but also had a precedent in the association with the final, Ptolemaic queen, Cleopatra. The use of her name in conjunction with a text that deals with personal appearance and expensive cosmetics may certainly have been deliberate.87 Nor is much personal information provided in the paraphrased fragments that remain. Thus, while there is no reason to doubt the existence of the text, the identity of the author remains unclear. Six extensive fragments survive, four in Galen, one in Aetius, and one in Paulus of Aegina. Galen states that she is a physician, rather than a midwife, and refers to her extensively in his discussions on hair diseases, baldness and dandruff.88 Aetius preserves her recipe for soap, while Paulus of Aegina presents her methods on how to curl and dye hair.89 The physician Cleopatra is sometimes confused or combined with another Cleopatra from the same period, a diagram from whose alchemical text, The Chrysopoeia, has survived.90

This Cleopatra also appears in A dialogue of Cleopatra and the philosophers, a fictitious

87 That the author of this text was not the Ptolemaic Queen is made clear by B. Grillet, Les Femmes et les Fards dans l’Antiquité Grecque (Lyons: Centre national de la recherche scientifiques, 1975), 26; I. Becher, Das Bild der Kleopatra in der Griechischen und Lateinischen Literatur (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1966). 88 Galen 12.403-5, 12.492-493, 13. 432-34. 89 Aetius, 8.6; Paulus of Aegina, 3.2.1. 90 F. Sherwood Taylor, “A Survey of Greek Alchemy,” The Journal of Hellenic Studies 50:1 (1930), 116-117.

41 work that was written close to the time of her own text, and which may include responses based on her text.91

An alchemist of considerably more renown was the first-century AD Maria. Her text seems to have been particularly useful for its discussions on various alchemical apparatus, such as ovens, sills and the bain-marie, which was named in her honour.92 Her references to a monotheistic God, and her identification of herself as being of the race of

Abraham, indicate that she was Jewish.93 Zosimus and Olympiodorus were both familiar with her work, as were a number of Arab alchemists, who used her text.94 Maria’s text is extensively paraphrased in Zosimus, although the text itself has not survived.95

Outside of the medical/alchemical texts, historical works written by women also appear as paraphrased fragments. Pamphila’s Historical Commentaries, which must have been an extensive text, survives today in Diogenes Laertius, Aulus Gellius, and Photius.

Photius provides some commentary on her and her work and is worth quoting in full for the information he provides on her and her work.

Read the Miscellaneous historical notes by Pamphila, in eight books. She was a married woman, as she allows us to understand at the start of these commentaries; she had lived thirty years with her husband from her youth when she

91 Ibid. For the dialogue see Hultsch, Metrologicorum Scriptorum Reliquiae (Lipsiae, 1864), I. 253. 92 J. Lindsay, The Origins of Alchemy in Graeco-Roman Egypt, 194-211. 93 Fragment 4, “And God graciously revealed this to me…”; Fragment 5, “you are not of the race of Abraham, and if you are not of our race…” I. M. Plant, Women Writers in Ancient Greece and Rome, 131. 94 For a full treatment of Maria see R. Patai, “Maria the Jewess: Founding Mother of Alchemy,” Ambix 29: 3 (1988), 184-186. On Maria’s place in Greek Alchemy and her influence on later alchemists see F. Sherwood Taylor, “The Origins of Greek Alchemy,” Ambix 1 (1937-8), 30-47 and F. Sherwood Taylor, “A Survey of Greek Alchemy,” The Journal of Hellenic Studies 50:1 (1930), 109-139. See also J. Lindsay, The Origins of Alchemy in Graeco-Roman Egypt, 240-252. 95 On these paraphrased fragments see CAG II.93, 102-103, 146, 149, 151-152, 157-158, 172-173, 182-183, 192-193, 196-197, 198, 200-201, 236-238, 351-352, 356-357, 382, 404.

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began the composition of these commentaries; she says that she relates that which she learned from her husband in the course of a common life of thirty years which was uninterrupted by a day or an hour, and that which she happened to learn from all the other people who visited her husband (he had many visitors famous for their culture), and that which she had taken from books. Every statement which seemed to her deserving of noting and retaining, she included in the notes without order, without organising them or separating them by subject, but randomly and in the order in which each presented itself. There would have been no difficulty, she says, in organising them according to a plan, but she thought that the mixture and variety more agreeable and more gracious than the unity of a plan. This book is useful as a means to erudition. In fact one finds in it much essential information as regards history, sentences, some data on rhetoric and philosophical speculation, on poetic form and randomly on other subjects of the same kind. Pamphila was of Egyptian nationality; her career is placed in the middle of the reign of Nero, emperor of the Romans. Her style, insofar as it can be detected in the preface and when she speaks elsewhere in her own name, above all in the thought, is of a simple kind as is natural for that which comes from a woman; the vocabulary even does not deviate from this. In the passages where she speaks by citing writers earlier than herself, her style has more variety and is not composed according to a single format.96

96 Photius, Bibliotheca, Cod. 175 (Patrologiae Graecae (PG) 103.505) (trans. R. Pearse, Paris: Les Belles Lettres, modifed by myself): Ἀνεγνώσθησαν Παµφίλης Συµµίκτων ίστορικῶν ὑποµνηµάτων λόγοι ή. Αὕτη ἀνδρὶ µὲν συνῴκει, ὡς καὶ αὐτὴ τῶν ὑποµνηµάτων προοιµιαζοµένη ἐπισηµαίνεται· ῷ καὶ ιγʹ ἔτη ἐκ παιδὸς συµβιοῦσα ἤδη τῆς ὑποµηνµατικῆς ταύτης συγγραφῆς λέγει ἀπάρξασθαι, συγγράψαι δὲ ἅ τε παρὰ τοῦ ἀνδρὸς µάθοι, τὰ ιγʹ ἔτη συνεχῶς αὐτῷ συνοῦσα, καὶ µηδ᾿ ἡµέραν µηδ᾿ ὥραν ἀπολειποµένη, καὶ ἅ παρ᾿ ἄλλου τινὸς ἀκοῦσαι συνέβη τῶν παρ᾿ αὐτὸν ἀφικνουµένων (πολλοὺς δὲ φοιτᾷν ὄνοµα καὶ δόξαν ἔχοντας ἐπι παιδειᾳ), καὶ δὴ καὶ δ᾿σα βιβλίων αὐτὴ ἀνελέξατο. Ταῦτα δὲ πάντα, ὅσα λόγου καὶ µνήµης αὐτῇ ἄξια ἐδόκει, εὶς ὑποµνήµατα συµµιγῆ καὶ οὐ πρὸς τὰς ἰδίας ὑποθέσεις διακεκριµένον ἕκαστον διελεῖν, ἀλλ᾿ οὕτως εὶκῇ καὶ ὡς ἕκαστον ἐπῆλθεν ἀναγράψαι, ὡς οὐχὶ χαλεπὸν ἔχουσα, φησί, τὸ κατ᾿ εἶδος αὐτὰ διελεῖν, ἐπιτερπέστερον δὲ καὶ καριέστερον τὸ ἀναµεµιγµένον καὶ τὴν ποικιλίαν τοῦ µονοειδοῦς νοµίζουσα. Χρήσιµον δὲ τὸ βιβλίον εἰς πολυµαθίαν· εὕροι γὰρ ἄν τις καὶ τῶν ἱστορικῶν οὐκ ὀλίγα ἀναγκαῖα, καὶ δὴ καὶ ἀποφθεγµάτων καὶ ῥητορικῆς διατριβῆς ἔνια καὶ φιλοσόφου θεωρίας ποιητικῆς ἰδέας, καὶ εἴ τι τοιοῦτον ἐµπέσοι. Αἰγυπτία δὲ τὸ γένος ἡ Παµφίλη,

43

Pamphila’s appearance in Photius, as well as in the Suda, where she is identified as an Epidaurian, gives some indication of widespread popularity of her work. The eleven extant fragments deal mostly with historical topics, but also include a riddle and a summary of her introduction, where she offers a brief biographical sketch of herself.97

Photius also comments that Sopater based the tenth book of his Various Extracts on

Pamphila’s work.98 Pamphila is also credited as the author of a number of books that do not survive in any form.99

Two fragments also survive of Agrippina the Younger’s Commentarii. The existence of the commentarii is found in Tacitus, who notes, in describing Tiberius’ refusal to respond to Agrippina the Elder’s pleas for mercy, that, “This incident, not mentioned by any historian, I have found in the commentarii of the younger Agrippina, the mother of the emperor Nero, who handed down to posterity the story of her life and of

ἤκµασε δὲ καθ᾿ οὕς κρόνους Νὲρων ὁ ‘Ρωµαίων ἤκµαζεν αὐτοκράτωρ. ῾Η δὲ φράσις, ὡς ἔστιν ἐκ τῶν προοιµίων συλλαβεῖν καὶ ἐν οἷς ἄλλοθί που ἴδιόν τι λέγει, καὶ µάλιστα κατὰ τὴν διάνοιαν, οἷα δὴ καὶ γυναικὸς ἔκγονον οὖσα, τῆς ἀφελοῦς ἐστιν ἰδέας, οὐδὲ τῇ λέξει πρὸς τὴν ἰδέαν ἀλλοτριουµένη. Ἐν οἷς δὲ τὰ τῶν ἀρχαιοτέρων ἀποµνηµονεύουσα λέγει, ποικιλώτερον αὐτῇ καὶ οὐ χαθ᾿ ἕν εἷδος σύγκειται ὁ λόγος). 97 For a current discussion of Pamphila and her work, see H. Müller-Reineke, “A Greek Miscellanist as a Libidinous Thessalian Witch?: Pamphile in ' Metamorphoses 2-3,” Classical Quarterly 56:2 (2006), 648-652. On the surviving fragments see C. Müller, Fragmenta Historicorum Graecorum, III, 520-522. For an English translations of her surviving fragments see I. M. Plant, Women Writers in Ancient Greece and Rome, 127-129. 98 Photius, Bibliotheca, Codice 161 (PG 103.445). 99 The Suda names her as the author of several epitomes and treatises; however, in most cases her authorship of these works is disputed. For discussion on the non-extant works credited to Pamphila, see H. Müller-Reineke, “A Greek Miscellanist as a Libidinous Thessalian Witch?: Pamphile in Apuleius' Metamorphoses 2-3,” 649, and M. Baumbach, "Pamphila," Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2011). On the problems with associating the Pamphila who wrote the Historical Commentaries with the Pamphila(s) who wrote the non-extant works, see L. Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius. An Antonine Scholar and his Achievement (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 29, and O. Regenbogen, “Pamphila 1,” Realencyclopädie der Classischen Altertumswissenschaft 18.3 (Stuttgart, 1949), 309–328.

44 the misfortunes of her family.”100 The other fragment which has survived is found in

Pliny the Elder who states that Nero was breech born, and that this fact comes from

Agrippina’s work.101 Unlike the women who are referenced in medical or alchemical texts, Pamphila and Agrippina were actual historical figures, but just as with the

Cleopatra texts or Maria’s works, nothing has survived of their own words.

To this end, much of the source material which survives as paraphrases can only provide the most general of statements, namely, that Roman women wrote on historical, political, philosophical and medical topics, and were considered viable sources on these topics by other Roman, male authors. Nonetheless, such conclusions do contribute to the development of a general context of Roman women writers, one in which multiple female authors appear to have been well-known and respected.

Other authors have fared even worse than the paraphrased texts, and nothing survives of their work beyond a mention of their activities. Roman women poets appear casually in a number of sources. Jerome lists a Cornificia as being a well-known poet in the first-century BC but nothing has survived of her work.102 Jerome compliments her on writing “famous epigrams” (insignia epigrammata) and notes that her brother, also a poet, was killed when soldiers deserted him, although the context for this is not

100 Tacitus, Ann. 4.53 (trans. A. J. Church and W. J. Bodribb (London, New York: Macmillan, 1888). For the Latin and for further discussion on this passage, see n. 47 above in the Introduction. 101 Pliny, NH, 7.8: Neronem quoque, paulo ante principem et toto principatu suo hostem generis humani, pedibus genitum scribit parens eius Agrippina. On this passage see also p. 43 above, n. 47. 102 Jerome, Chronicon, 42 BC. For a translation and commentary of the Chronicon see M. D. Donalson, A translation of Jerome's Chronicon with historical commentary (New York: Edwin Meller Press, 1996).

45 explained.103 comments that despite all her flaws Sempronia wrote poetry (posse versus facere) and that she was quite talented (prorsus multae facetiae multusque lepos inerat).104 Indeed, poetic talent seems a skill that many elite Roman women were educated in, and praise of these talents provides several examples of women who wrote poems that were not preserved.105

Theophila, for example, was a poet of some repute, according to Martial. The betrothed of a certain Canius, she is highly praised for poetic skills:106

This is that Theophila, Canius, who is betrothed to you, and whose mind overflows with Attic learning. The Athenian garden of the great old man might justly claim her for its own, and the Stoic would with equal pleasure call her theirs. Every work will live that you submit to her judgment before publication, so far is her taste above that of her sex, and of the common herd. Your favourite Pantaenis, however well known to the Pierian choir, should not claim too much precedence of her. The amorous Sappho would have praised her verses; Theophila is more chaste than Sappho, and Sappho had not more genius than Theophila.107

103 Jerome, Chronicon, 42 BC (trans. M. D. Donalson): “The poet Cornificius was killed, deserted by the soldiers whom he called ‘helmeted hares’ on account of them often fleeing” (Cornificius poeta a militibus desertus interiit, quos saepe fugientes 'galeatos lepores' appellat). 104 Sallust, Conspiracy of Catiline, 25. For discussion on Sempronia and Sallust’s treatment of her, see B. W. Boyd, “Virtus Effeminata and Sallust's Sempronia,” Transactions of the American Philological Association 117 (1987), 183- 201. Boyd challenges the earlier work of G. M. Paul, "Sallust's Sempronia: The Portrait of a Lady," Papers of the Liverpool Latin Seminar 5 (1985), 9- 22, in the degree to which Sempronia was a literary creation, arguing for much more historical reading of Sallust’s text. For an overview of scholarship on Sallust’s depiction of Sempronia, see T. Cadoux, "Sallust and Sempronia," in Vindex Humanitatis: Essays in Honour of John Huntly Bishop, ed. B. Marshall (Armidale, 1980), 93-122. 105 On female education see Chapter Three. 106 Martial, Epig. 7.69 (trans. The Epigrams of Martial (Bohn’s Classical Library, 1877), 366): Haec est illa tibi promissa Theophila, Cani,/ cuius Cecropia pectora dote madent./ Hanc sibi iure petat magni senis Atticus hortus,/ nec minus esse suam Stoica turba uelit. / Viuet opus quodcumque per has emiseris aures;/ tam non femineum nec populare sapit./ Non tua Pantaenis nimium se praeferat illi,/ quamuis Pierio sit bene nota choro./ Carmina fingentem Sappho laudabat amatrix:/ castior haec et non doctior illa fuit. 107 For some brief speculation on who Canius might be, see J. P. Hallett, “Martial's Sulpicia and ' Cynthia,” The Classical World, 86:2 (1992), 102-104. This passage also points to

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Of her poetic works however, nothing has survived. These passing references, however, suggest a much larger contingent of women poets than might be suspected based on the surviving or referenced texts.108 Likewise, the possibility of prose works that have not survived occasionally appears. For example, the third-century ruler Zenobia of

Palmyra is credited with writing a history. The source for this is the , which asserts that, “In the history of and the Orient she [Zenobia] was so well-versed that she even composed an epitome, so it is said; Roman history, however, she read in Greek.”109

Fragments and whole works that survive intact are few before Late Antiquity.

Possibly the earliest of these works is that of Melinno (c.200-150 BC). Melinno has one poem that survives, a lyric poem that celebrates the goddess Roma. The subject matter is clever: while on the one hand it reads as a devotional poem, on the other it offers praise to Rome itself, and most likely was composed in the mid-second-century BC. 110

another female poet, Pantaenis, but her historicity and time-period (Greek or Roman) are unknown. Likewise, while her poetry does not survive, Timaris is credited by Pliny the elder with having written a paneros to Venus. She is described as a queen who wrote “not inelegant verse” (non inelegans) but whether this refers her talents or to her station is unclear. Pliny, NH, 37.66: Paneros qualis sit, a Metrodoro non dicitur, sed carmen Timaridis reginae in eam, dicatum Veneri, non inelegans ponit, ex quo intellegitur adiutam fecunditatem. hanc quidam paneraston vocant. 108 The possibilities for Roman women to write poetry is much larger issue than can be fully addressed here, but the importance that possessing literary talent had for elite women is discussed at length in Chapter Three of this thesis. 109 HA, Thirty Tyrants, 30.22 (trans. Loeb): Historiae Alexandrinae atque orientalis ita perita ut eam epitomasse dicatur; Latinam autem Graece legerat. 110 Melinno, Roma. trans. I. M. Plant, Women Writers in Ancient Greece and Rome, 100. For the Greek text see Anth. Lvr. Graec. II2, 315-6. For a discussion on the literary features of the poem see C. M. Bowra, “Melinno’s Hymn to Rome,” Journal of Roman Studies 47 (1957), 21-28. On the figure of Roma in the poem see R. Mellor, Thea Roma: The Worship of the Goddess Roma in the Greek World (Göttingen: Vandenhoek and Ruprecht, 1975), 121. On the possibility that the poem was about strength (ῥώµη) rather than Rome (Ῥώµη), and the refutation of this idea, see T. Alekniene, “Le Poème de Mélinno dans l' ‘Anthologie’ de Jean Stobée: Une Erreur d'Interprétation?” Philologus 150:2 (2006), 198-202. On the intersection between literature and

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However, the extent to which this poem can be considered part of the Roman corpus rather than the Hellenistic is unclear. Certainly in subject matter Melinno demonstrates some level of connection to Rome.111 However, whether or not she herself was writing as a Roman subject is largely open to interpretation, and even the most plausible date (c.

150 BC) places her in a transitional period.112 Additionally, the poem has survived as a quote in the fifth-century AD writer Stobaeus’ work, rather than as an independent text.113 Likewise, it is difficult to situate Philinna (first century BC), and Syra (first century BC), conclusively within the Roman tradition. Philinna and Syra both composed magical incantations, and their brief poems offer cures for headaches and fever.114 The papyrus on which the incantations are recorded dates to the first century BC; however, the incantations themselves could have been originally composed much earlier and indeed, their presence together on the same papyrus suggests editorial input.115

history in the poem see J. D. Gauger, “Der Rom-Hymnos der Melinno (Anth. Lyr. II2 6,209 f.) und die Vorstellung von der Ewigkeit Roms,” Chiron 14 (1984), 267-299. 111 The various ways in which the poem ties into Roman ideology and literature are discussed by C. M. Bowra, “Melinno’s Hymn to Rome,” 25-27. 112 On the date of the poem and a survey of the various suggested dates see C. M. Bowra, “Melinno’s Hymn to Rome,” 28. See also E. Robbins, “Melinno,” Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2011). On the possibility that Melinno was from Alexandria and the political implications of this for her work, see P. Lévêque, “Les Poètes Alexandrins et Rome,” L'information historique 22 (1960), 47-52. 113 Stobaeus, 3.7.2. On Stobaeus and Melinno, see A. Powell, The Greek World (New York: Routledge, 1995), 368-369. 114 For both incantations, see PGM XX. On Philinna see P. Maas, “The Philinna Papyrus,” Journal of Hellenic Studies 62 (1942), 33-38. For an English translation of her incantation see I. M. Plant, Women Writers in Ancient Greece and Rome, 112. For an English translation of the Syrian woman’s incantation see I. M. Plant, Women Writers in Ancient Greece and Rome, 114. For additional discussion about this papyrus and for the Greek and English texts see C. A. Faraone, Magika Hiera: Ancient Greek Magic and Religion (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991), 112-113. For addition references on the papyrus see S. Fornaro, “Philinne,” Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2011). 115 That the papyrus is an edited compilation rather than an original composition is argued by P. Maas, “The Philinna Papyrus,” 38. Dickie takes Maas’ argument further, to suggest that neither Philinna or Syra were ever historical women, but were entirely literary creations. M. W. Dickie,

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Indeed, the first definitively Roman literary work that has survived is that of the first-century BC poet Sulpicia.116 In a refreshing change, the identity of Sulpicia is known. She identifies herself as Sulpicia, the daughter of Servius, and as the ward of

Messalla, her uncle.117 Six of her poems have survived due to their inclusion in the collected works of the poet , who was evidently part of the literary circle of her uncle.118 The poems themselves are addressed to a Cerinthus, her love interest, and they detail her love for him and her daily life.119 To complicate matters, however, two lines survive of a poem accredited to the first-century AD Sulpicia II, which appears to be an erotic verse to her husband: “if, after the bed-straps for my mattress have been replaced,/

{it} might reveal me naked lying in bed with Calenus.”120 The identification of Calenus

“The Identity of Philinna in the Philinna Papyrus ("PGM2" XX.15; "SH" 900.15),” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 100 (1994), 119-122, especially 120. 116 For an introduction to Sulpicia, see J.R. Bradley, "The Elegies of Sulpicia: An Introduction and Commentary," New England Classical Journal 22 (1995), 159-164; H. Currie, "The Poems of Sulpicia," Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt 30.3 (l983) 1751-1764; C. Davies, "Poetry in the 'Circle' of Messalla," 25-35; N. J. Lowe, “Sulpicia’s Syntax,” The Classical Quarterly, n. s., 38:1 (1988), 193-205. On using her poems for historical work, see J. P. Hallet, “Heeding Our Native Informants: The Uses of Latin Literary Texts in Recovering Elite Roman Attitudes Toward Age, Gender and Social Status,” Echos du Monde Classique/Classical Views 36 (1992), 333-334, 349-353. 117 See Sulpicia, 2.5 and 4.4. On Sulpicia’s identity see also H. N. Parker, “Sulpicia, the Auctor de Sulpicia, and the authorship of 3.9 and 3.11 of the Corpus Tibullianum,” Helios 21.1 (1994), 39- 62. 118 For Tibullus’ work and Sulpicia’s inclusion, see H. Tränkle, Appendix Tibulliana (Berlin: De Gruyter 1990), 47-49, 299-322. 119 For the full, translated collection, see I. M. Plant, Women Writers in Ancient Greece and Rome, 107-108. For additional bibliography see P. L. Schmidt, “Sulpica, ” Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2011). 120 {si me} cadurc{i} restitutis fasciis/ nud{a}m Caleno concubantem proferat. The surviving fragment comes to us through a fifteenth-century manuscript that cites the scholiast Probus, who in turn cited Sulpicia II. H. N. Parker, “Other Remarks on the Other Sulpicia,” Classical World 86.2 (1992), 89. For additional commentary and an English translation see I. M. Plant, Women Writers in Ancient Greece and Rome, 124.

49 as her husband is found in Martial (Satires 10.35, 38), and she is mentioned by

(Cento 139.5-6), (Songs 9.261-2), and Fulgentius (Myth 1.4).121

One Greek medical text from the second century AD, written by Metrodora, is also still extant. This work, On the female suffering of the mother, focuses on female concerns.122 Unfortunately, very little work has been done on this text, and Metrodora commonly receives little more than passing mention, even in studies on women and medicine in the ancient world.123

Thus this eclectic group is what has survived from the literary sources for Roman women writers. As was mentioned at the beginning of this chapter, preservation of female-authored texts is rare prior to Late Antiquity. While many women are named, referenced, or quoted as authors, very few have extant texts or fragments.

Epigraphic poems by women have had a more favorable survival rate. These poems cover a variety of topics. Mourning is a key component of many of them. Terentia

(c.180 AD) composed a memorial poem for her brother Decimus Terentius Gentianus and had it inscribed on the Egyptian pyramid of Cheops:

I have seen the pyramids without you, sweetest brother, and here, grieving for you, I have poured forth as many

121 On Sulpicia II see also A. Richlin, “Sulpicia the Satirist,” Classical World 86.2 (1992), 125- 139, and J. P. Hallett, “Martial's Sulpicia and Propertius' Cynthia,” 99-123. 122 The text survives as a manuscript; see R. Pintaudi, Dai Pairi della Biblioteca Medicae Laurenziani, III (Firenze: Gonnelli, 1979), 75.3f.4-33. See also, Deichgraber, “Metrodora,” Realencyclopädie der Classischen Altertumswissenschaft 15 (1932), 1474. For a summary of the text see the Society for Ancient Medicine Review 19 (1991), 179-181. The most extensive surveys of her work are G. del Guerra, II Libro di Metrodora sulle Malattie delle Donne e il Ricettario di Cosmetica e Terapia (Milan: Ceschina, 1953), and G. del Guerra, "La Medicina Bizantina e il Codice Medico-Ginecologica di Metrodora," Scientia Veterum (Pisa) 118 (1968): 67-94. 123 This lack of serious scholarship is commented on by R. Flemming, “Women, Writing and Medicine in the Classical World,” 277-278. Flemming notes that Metrodora’s text lacks a critical edition and as such there are numerous questions and problems with her text.

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tears as I could. and in memory of my grief I carve this lament. Thus, let the name of Decimus Gentianus stand forth on the high pyramid, having been a comrade in your grand triumph, O , and a censor and consul within thirty years.124

Written in Latin, it is both touching and learned. For example, it makes a passing reference to Horace’s Ode 3.11 in which he concludes (51-52), nostri memorem sepulcro/ scalpe querelam.125

Cornelia Galla and Constantia both composed funerary epigrams for their husbands. Cornelia Galla’s poem is on a second-century AD grave in Ammaedara, North

Africa, and Constantia’s poem (c. 355) is on the via Ardeatina in Rome.126 Cornelia

Galla’s flowery epigram describes her love for her husband Varius Frontonianus:

Here is placed Varius, called Frontonianus, whom his charming wife, Cornelia Galla, laid to rest. Restoring the sweet consulations of her old life she set up a likeness of marble, so that she might satisfy longer her eyes and heart with his beloved form. This is a source of comfort for the eyes. For a pledge of love in the heart

124 CLE 1.270: Vidi pyramidas sine te, dulcissime frater,/ et tibi quod potui, lacrimas hic maesta profudi/ et nostri memorem luctus hanc sculpo querelam./ sic nomen Decimi Gentiani pyramide alta/ pontificis comitis tuis, Traiane, triumphis/ lustra[que] sex intra censoris consulis exstet. The Latin here and in all the epigraphical material has been reproduced exactly as it was written, errors included. 125 There also seems to be an echo of , 101 (trans. A. S. Kline): “Carried over many seas, and through many nations,/ brother, I come to these sad funeral rites,/ to grant you the last gifts to the dead,/ and speak in vain to your mute ashes./ Seeing that fate has stolen from me your very self./ Ah alas, my brother, taken shamefully from me,/ yet, by the ancient custom of our parents,/ receive these sad gifts, offerings to the dead,/ soaked deeply with a brother’s tears,/ and for eternity, brother: ‘Hail and Farewell!” (Multas per gentes et multa per aequora uectus/ aduenio has miseras, frater, ad inferias,/ ut te postremo donarem munere mortis/ et mutam nequiquam alloquerer cinerem./ quandoquidem fortuna mihi tete abstulit ipsum./ heu miser indigne frater adempte mihi,/ nunc tamen interea haec, prisco quae more parentum/ tradita sunt tristi munere ad inferias,/ accipe fraterno multum manantia fletu,/atque in perpetuum, frater, aue atque uale.) 126 J. Stevenson, “An Introduction to Epigraphic Poetry,” 36-37.

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is held by the remembering by the sweetness of the mind, and will not easily fall to oblivion, or perish; but while her life remains, her husband is in her whole heart. Nor is this astonishing, since such is feminine nature…127

Constantia, a Christian, is somewhat more reserved in her grief:

Constantia, a sorrowful wife, writes this poem for Anastasius, Who has changed the light for bitter darkness. His life was for four decades and five years, alas, How quickly he was snatched from the love of his dear wife, Lamented, when Janus was overtaking the twelfth month, Buried in the year when the consul Arbitio ruled. In the name of God.128

Christian women also wrote epigraphic poetry. In the fourth-century AD Taurina, a nun, composed a long poem to her aunts who were nuns.129 The poem is acrostic and forms the names of her aunts, Licinia, Leontia, Ampelia and Flavia.130

127 CLE 2.1.480: Hic situs est Varius cognomina Frontonianus,/ quem coniunx lepida posuit Cornelia Galla/ Dulcia restituens veteris solacia vitae/ marmoreos voltus statuit, oculos animumque/ longius ut kara posset saturare figura./ Hoc solamen erit visus. Nam pignus amoris/ pectore contegitur memor[i] dulcedine mentis/ nec poterit facili labsum oblivione perire,/ set dum vita manet, toto est in corde maritus./ nec mir[um], quoniam tales quae feminae mores… 128 CLE 1. 660: Tristis Anastasio Const[antia carmina scribit/ coniunx, qui lucem t[enebris mutavit amaris./ Vita quarter denis et q[unique annis fuit, eheu/ quam cito praerept[us dilectae uxoris amori,/ fletus duodecumum cum Ianus sumeret ortum,/ conditus Arbitio co[nsul cum duceret annum./ in nomine Dei. 129 The fourth-century date of this inscription is given by Stevenson without explanation, but seems likely, given the Christian nature of the epigraph. Given its Christian content and fourth- century date it is quoted in n. 130 below. It has been suggested that Taurina became an abbess in 417. See J. I. Ritter’s note in J. W. J. Braun, De Christianae Primae, Mediae et Novissimae Aetatis Politia (Vienna, 1838) Tomus III, 117. 130 CLE 1, no. 748 (trans. J. Stevenson, Latin Women Poets, 79-80) The translator has sacrificed much of the literal Latin to maintain this acrostic feature: “Limbs shining with virginal light rest here: / Illustrious for courage, the chaste sisters/ Covering their hair with veils, have sought heaven/ In the merits of their blameless lives and good works./ Noxious poisons overcome, with Christ as healer,/ In spite of the hated Serpent, they have attained to the everlasting palm,/ Asp

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Other epigraphic poems composed by Roman women were written in Greek. Caecilia

Trebulla and Julia Babilla, contemporaries in the second century AD, both composed epigrams in Greek and had them inscribed on the statue of Memnon near Thebes in

Egypt. Julia Balbilla (c. 130) had traveled to Egypt with , and her poem flatters both Hadrian and Sabina.131

trodden down, they triumph by virtue of their Spouse./ Linked they rejoice, sent as they have been into aeons of peace, now that the/ Evils of the flesh have been totally conquered,/ Only with the savage dragon who is long keeping up the struggle,/ Now they are waging most intransigent battles./ They are storing up here bodies divested of all evils, such a great love kept them always consecrated, so that,/ In the tomb it joined the limbs of the holy sisters/ All given to earth by the womb of one mother./ A single home – that of the tomb – will send them to heaven, a/ Mother with wondrous offspring, who brought forth four/ Pure lambs, who has flashed forth with four stars/ Environed by a chast chorus: Mary reoices/ Linked with the girl sisters, as she goes on her way./ In entering the temple of the Lord they will / Attain an honourable reward, since they have overcome harsh stuggles./ Flashing with the flowers and jewels of their world,/ Light perpetual is the great honour they will gain./ Awaiting the arrival of their Spouse, now, in exultation,/ Vested with sacred garments, blessed with the oil that endures, partents of an/ Innumerable progeny, they have consecrated an undying thing of beauty/ All in piety and faith, to the eternal King./ If, reader, you perhaps ask the names of the lady saints,/ the first letter from every line will instruct you./ The nun Taurina, their niece, set up this inscription.” (Lumine virgineo hic splendida membra quiescunt./ Insigneis animo, castae velamine sancto/ Crinibus imposito caelum petiere sorores/ Innocuae vitae mentis operumque bonorum./ Noxia vincentes Christo medicante venea/ Invisi anguis palmam tenuere perennem,/ Aspide calcato sponsi virtute triumphant.// Letanturque simul pacata in secula missae/ Evictis carnis vitiis, saevoque dracone/ Obluctante diu subegunt durissima bella./ Nam cunctis exuta malis hic corpora condunt./ Tantus amor tenuit semper sub luce sacratas,/ Iungeret ut tumulo sanctarum membra sororum./ Alvus quas matris mundo emiserat una,//Ad caelum pariter mittet domus una sepulcri./ Mirifico genetrix fetu, quae quattuor agnas/ Protulit electas, claris quae quattuor astris/ Emicuit castosque choro comitante Maria/ Letatur gradiens germanis septa puellis./ Ingressae templum domini venerabile munus/ Accipient, duros quoniam vicere labores,// Floribus et variis operum gemmisque nitentes/ Lucis perpetuae magno potientur honore./ Adventum sponsi nunc praestolantur ovantes/ Veste sacra comptae, oleo durante beatae,/ Immortale decus numerosa prole parentes/ Aeterno regi fidei pietate sacrarunt.// Nomina sanctarum lector si forte requiris,/ ex omni versu te littera prima docebit./ Hunc posuit neptes titulum Taurina sacrata.) A. A. Pelliccia in his Dissertatio IV De re lapidaria et siglis veterum christianorum notes some of the unusual orthography of Christian inscriptions, including E and EI for I. In his edition of Pelliccia's work, published in 1829, J. I. Ritter added a note that includes a transcription of this poem to give examples of the phenomenon. All this is cited from J. W. J. Braun, De Christianae Primae, Mediae et Novissimae Aetatis Politia (Vienna, 1838) Tomus III, 117-121 (Braun edited and republished Ritter's edition, which was a re-edition and republication of Pelliccia's second edition, [Naples, 1782].). 131 On the Memnon inscriptions see Appendix A. For the epigraphs of Julia Balbilla, see A. Bernand and É. Bernand, Les Inscriptions Grecques et Latines du Colosse de Memnon (Cairo:

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The examples above demonstrate the temporal, geographic and topical diversity of the epigraphic source material. It seems useful at this point to touch on the other types of epigraphic material written by women, that is, the much more pragmatic but also much more common appearance of inscriptions with a female dedicator. Epigraphic works that were at the least commissioned, if not written, by women are an often-ignored source for female voice in the Roman world. While not the poetic, literary works of the epigrams discussed above, the mass of inscriptions with female dedicators is certainly indicative of the context within which women were composing epigrams, and also of the context for female voice. There were significant numbers of women who had their own names and thoughts inscribed in stone. For example, a simple epigraphical survey of the dedicators of household tombs at Rome reveals that females appear as dedicators in forty-eight percent of all the inscriptions. Twenty-eight percent of the inscriptions (514), almost a full third of the total, have a female dedicator occupying the dominant position in the inscription, and forty-eight percent of all the inscriptions (827), almost half of the total, contain women among the dedicators.132

Institut français d’archéologie orientale, 1960), 80-98. On her style see J. Balmer, Classical Women Poets (Newcastle: Bloodaxe Books, 1886), 108. For a discussion on her family origins, see A. Spawforth, “Balbilla, the Euclids and the Memorials for a Greek Magnate,” The Annual of the British School at Athens 73 (1978), 249-260, esp. 252-254. For an English translation of her work see I. M. Plant, Women Writers in Ancient Greece and Rome, 152-153. For the epigraphs of Caecilia Trebulla, see A. Bernand and É. Bernand, Les Inscriptions Grecques et Latines du Colosse de Memnon, 92-94. For an English translation of her work see I. M. Plant, Women Writers in Ancient Greece and Rome, 149-150. Translations of both women’s poems can also be found in M. R. Lefkowitz and M. B. Fant, Women's life in Greece and Rome: a source book in translation (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2005), 10. 132 See Appendix A for a full discussion on this study. The data used for this study was a collection of 2367 epitaphs drawn from CIL 6. The epitaphs were selected on the basis of being household tomb inscriptions. Hence, 2367 represents the total number of inscriptions which included the phrase libertis libertabusque, the standard identifier of household tombs. Household tombs were chosen in particular due to the public nature of the inscriptions that were placed on the outside of the tomb or burial site, and were meant to be read by the general public, at least in

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Graffiti forms another epigraphical source of female writing. While there are significant challenges in establishing a corpus, not the least of which is determining the veracity of female authorship, these inscriptions certainly provide additional information as to the inclusion of female-authored text in a variety of settings. Studies of in a variety of Roman cities, such as Pompeii, provide intriguing possibilities for future work in this regard.133 Woeckner has suggested two examples of women’s graffiti from

Pompei.134 The first is by a tibicina, a female flute player:

Themis loves the gods. Let Talus win the musical contest. Apollo the citharode sings. Surely I am a tibicina. The giraffe has a heart like on account of its distinctiveness. I am furious. Behold now, Volvanus is the cure.135

The second graffito is by Hedone, who worked at a bar. The majority of the graffito is a price list. The lines which identifies Hedone as the author are valeat qui legerit/ edone dicit (and may he who reads this prosper/ Hedone says).136

theory. Fifty-three percent of the inscriptions (957) are dedicated exclusively by men, compared to twenty-four percent dedicated exclusively by women (447). Inscriptions where the dedicators are both male and female comprised twenty-three percent of the total inscriptions (424). 133 H. H. Tanzer, The Common People of Pompeii. A Study of the Graffiti (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1939); R. E. Wallace, An Introduction to Wall Inscriptions from Pompeii and Herculaneum (Wauconda: Bolchazy-Carducci, 2005); H. Soli, “ and Pompeii,” Latin vulgaire- latin tardif 8, 60-68; L. A. Curchin, “Literacy in the Roman provinces: qualitative and quantitative data from Central Spain,” American Journal of Philology 116:3 (1995), 461-476; E. Biddulph, “What's in a Name?: Graffiti on Funeral Pottery,” Britannia 37 (2006), 355-359. The potential for female authorship was first presented to me by A. Strong. “Female-Authored Romantic Graffiti in Pompeii,” American Philological Association: January 2011, Houston, Texas. 134 E. Woeckner, “Women’s Graffiti from Pompeii,” in Women Writing Latin, 80-81. 135 CIL 4.8873 (trans. E. Woeckner): Cytaredus cantat Apolo. Tibicina nmpe ego./ Cameopadus abet cor Acille ob clarit[atem]./ Sum rabid. Im Vulcanus m medicina est./ 136 For the full inscription see CIL 4.1679; E. Woeckner, “Women’s Graffiti from Pompeii,” 81- 82.

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Roman women also appear as the authors of numerous letters. In the vast majority of instances, what has survived is not their letters, but men’s letters written in response to theirs. For example, during his exile, and Terentia wrote extensively to each other, as is evidenced in Cicero’s letters. While at Brundisium, Cicero begins letters to her with comments such as, “Yes, I do write to you less often than I might, because, though I am always wretched, yet when I write to you or read a letter from you, I am in such floods of tears that I cannot endure it.”137 In another letter from Thessalonica he concludes with, “I don't know to whom to write except to those who write to me, or to those about whom you say something in your letters. I will not go farther off, since that is your wish, but pray send me a letter as often as possible, especially if there is anything on which we may safely build our hope.”138 A similar pattern can be found in the correspondence of most men in the Roman elite. Their letters indicate that women were writing letters, and may sometimes include references to what the letters contained, but the actual letters of these women are not extant.139 The few letters that remain have survived in a range of forms.

Both Plotina Augusta and Julia Domna had letters inscribed by their recipients. Two letters from Plotina Augusta were inscribed at the Epicurean School in Athens. The letters make up two of four sections of a lengthy inscription. The first part has been damaged and now contains only the date, the second is a letter from Plotina to Hadrian, in

137 Cicero, Ep. 14.4 (LXI) (trans. E. S. Shuckburgh): Ego minus saepe do ad vos litteras, quam possum, propterea quod cum omnia mihi tempora sunt misera, tum vero, cum aut scribo ad vos aut vestras lego, conficior lacrimis sic, ut ferre non possim. 138 Cicero, Ep. 14.2 (LXXIII) (trans. E. S. Shuckburgh): Ego, ad quos scribam, nescio, nisi ad eos, qui ad me scribunt, aut [ad eos,] de quibus ad me vos aliquid scribitis. Longius, quoniam ita vobis placet, non discedam; sed velim quam saepissime litteras mittatis, praesertim si quid est firmius, quod speremus. 139 For an extensive survey of women’s letters see E. A. Hemelrijk, Matrona Docta: Educated women in the Roman elite from Cornelia to Julia Domna, 188-206.

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Latin, asking Hadrian that a non-Roman be allowed to be named as successor to head the school, the third is a letter from Plotina to the Epicureans, in Greek, explaining matters, and the fourth is Hadrian’s response, in which he agrees to do as Plotina asks.140 Julia

Domna wrote a letter to the Ephesians in which she offered her support of their request for additional administrative staff and praised the city for its intellectual achievements.141

Fragments of a letter attributed to Cornelia from the mid-second-century BC have survived in the work of , although their veracity is seriously contested.142

A letter from Paula and Eustochium to Marcella (386) also survives in Jerome’s correspondence, although how much of this letter was written by the women is likewise in dispute.143 One letter and one letter fragment also survive from the Vindolanda tablets

140 ILS 7784, IG II2 1099. For the letters see Chapter Four, 200-203. 141 Inscr. Eph. 212 (trans. J. H. Oliver, Greek Constitutions of Early Roman Emperors from Inscriptions and Papyri (Memoirs of the American Philosophical Society 178, 1989), 514): “Julia Augusta to the Ephesians. I join in the prayer of all cities and all peoples to receive [benefactions] from my dear son, the emperor, especially in the case of your city on account of [its magnificence] and beauty and the rest of its endowment and because of the fact that it is a school for those who come from anywhere to its seat of learning” (᾿Ιουλία Σεβαστὴ Ἐφεσί[οισ]/ Πάσαις µὲν πόεσιν καὶ σύνπασι δήµοις ε[ὐεργεσιῶν]/ τυνχάνειν̣ ̣τοῦ γλυκυτάτου µου νίοῦ τοῦ α[ὐτοκράτο]/ ρος συνε[ύ]χοµαι, µάλοστα δὲ τῇ ὑµετέρᾳ διὰ [το µέγεθοσ]/ καὶ κάλλος καὶ τὴν λοιπὴν δόσιν καὶ τὸ παιδ[ευτήριον]/ εἶναι τοῖς πανταχόθεν ε[ἰσ τὸ] ἐργραστήριον [ ἥκουστιν]). 142 Incongruities within the letter itself, and the likelihood that it was written by Cornelius Nepos rather than Cornelia are brought forward by a number of scholars. For a general overview of the problems with the letter, see E. A. Hemelrijk, Matrona Docta: Educated women in the Roman elite from Cornelia to Julia Domna, 193-197. For a discussion of how the use of verbs in the letter seems to reflect later political sentiments rather than those at the time of Cornelia, see N. Horsfall, “The Letter of Cornelia: Yet More Problems,” Athenaeum 65 (1987), 231-234. On the possibility that the letter is a rewrite rather than the original, see F. Coarelli, “La Statue de Cornélie, Mère des Gracques, et la Crise Politique à Rome au Temps de Saturninus,” in Le Dernier Siècle de la République Romaine et l’Époque Augustéen, ed. H. Zehnacker (Strasbourg: AECR: 1978), 13-27. Coarelli follows the argument of H. U. Instinsky, “Zur Echtheitsfrage der Brieffragmente der Cornelia,” Chiron 1 (1971), 177-189. For an English translation of the letter see I. M. Plant, Women Writers in Ancient Greece and Rome, 101-103. 143 The letter can be found in Jerome, Ep. 46. While the letter appears to be written by Paula and Eustochium, there is a long-standing attitude that Jerome wrote the letter on their behalf. See N. Adkin, “The Letter of Paula and Eustochium to Marcella: Some Notes,” Maia 51 (1999), 97-110, and J. N .D. Kelly, Jerome, His Life, Writings, and Controversies (New York: Harper and Row, 1975), 141.

57 that were written by Claudia Severa to her friend/sister Sulpicia Lepidina (c.100).144

These letters are really the only examples of women’s letters outside of Imperial correspondence that have survived.

The appearance of the texts from Roman Late Antiquity, then, the works of

Perpetua, Proba, and Egeria, seem anomalous in the overall record of Roman women writers. These texts are much more extensive than any of the other surviving source material and often have little that is comparable to earlier works in genre or theme. In addition, the three women are loosely unified by the Christian content in their texts. Each text is offering an expression of Christianity. Perpetua gives an account of preparing to die for her faith, the cento of Proba is on Christian motifs, and Egeria writes of her

Christian pilgrimage. To some extent the vibrancy of this later period is a false construct of literary preservation. Epigraphic and epistolary evidence from early periods, for example, argues for a greater degree of continuity for women writers throughout Roman history than may be surmised in a survey of the extant literary texts. Nonetheless, this clustering of texts in Late Antiquity cannot be seen as random chance. The rise of

Christianity and the shifting intellectual debates of Late Antiquity engendered new opportunities for Roman women writers every bit as much as for their male counterparts, and this group of texts stands as a proof of this transition.

144 A. K. Bowman and J. D.Thomas, Vindolanda: the Latin Writing Tablets (Britannia, Monograph no, 4, 1983), 256-65. The better-preserved letter is an invitation to Claudia Severa’s birthday party.

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Late Antique Women Writers

Late Antique Authors: Perpetua

Perpetua is the earliest figure of this study. A North African woman of moderately high birth, she recounts the days leading up to her execution in the arena at as a

Christian martyr in AD 203.145 This autobiographical account forms the central portion of a martyrdom tale or passio.146 Efforts to identify Perpetua as an historical person have been largely unsuccessful.147 Her name is preserved in the text both by the redactor, who

145 The likelihood of Perpetua being of the upper middle classes and not of the aristocracy comes from the description of her as honeste nata (2.1) which most likely refers to her middle class origins. On this terminology see W. Ameling, “Femina, Liberaliter Instituta–Some Thoughts on a Martyr’s Liberal Education,” in Perpetua's Passions: Multidisciplinary Approaches to the Passio Perpetuae et Felicitatis, ed. J. N. Bremmer and M. Formisano (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 83, n. 25. 146 The critical edition of the text can be found in J. A. Robinson, Passio Perpetua: Texts and Studies, I.2. This edition also includes the later Greek version of the passion, the Short Latin Acts of the passion, and an appendix with the Latin and Greek texts of the Scillitan Martyrdom. For other editions see C.J.M.J. van Beek, Passio Sanctarum Perpetuae et Felicitatis (Nijmegen: Dekker & Van de Vegt, 1936), which has been recently revised by M. Formisano, La Passione de Perpetua et Felicitá (Milan, 2008); A.A.R. Bastiaensen, Atti e Passioni dei Martiri (Milan: Arnoldi Mondador Editore, 1987), 101-147, 412-452; J. Amat, Passion de Perpétue et de Félicité (Paris, 1996). The section of the passion credited to Perpetua has been translated into English by P. Dronke, Women Writers of the Middle Ages: A Critical Study of Texts from Perpetua to Marguerite Porete (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984), 2-4, and by I. M. Plant, Women Writers in Ancient Greece and Rome, 165-168. For an English translation of the full passion see W.H. Shewring, The Passion of SS. Perpetua and Felicity (London: Sheed & Ward, 1931). 147 For a general introduction to Perpetua, see J. Salisbury, Perpetua's Passion: The Death and Memory of a Young Roman Woman (New York: Routledge, 1997); J. N. Bremmer, “Perpetua and her Diary: Authenticity, Family and Visions,” in Märtyrer und Märtyrerakten, ed. W. Ameling (Stuttgart, 2002), 77-120. On Perpetua’s role as a woman and a martyr see J. Clark, “Early Christian accounts of martyrdoms,” Ancient History 35:2 (2005), 153-162; M. A. Rossi, “The Passion of Perpetua, Everywoman of Late Antiquity,” in Pagan and Christian Anxiety. A Response to E.R. Dodds, ed. R. C. Smith (Lanham: University Press of America, 1985), 53-86; Mary Lefkowitz, “The Motivations for St. Perpetua’s Martyrdom,” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 43.3 (1976), 417-21. For a detailed discussion of Perpetua’s language, see T. J Heffernan and J. E. Shelton, “Paradisus in Carcere: The Vocabulary of Imprisonment and the Theology of Martyrdom in the Passio Sanctarum Perpetuae et Felicitatis,” Journal of Early Christian Studies 14 (2006), 217-223. For further contextualization of the text see P. Kitzler, “Passio Perpetuae and Acta Perpetuae: Between Tradition and Innovation,” Listy filologické 130

59 calls her Vibia Perpetua (2.1), by Perpetua herself, who reports conversations in which she is addressed as Perpetua (4.7, 10.2), and by Saturus, who relates his conversations with her (11.4, 12.8). The names of her companions are also provided (Revocatus,

Felicity, Saturninus, Secundulus and Saturus), but these offer little information as to her actual family. She refers to her father and son as merely ‘my father’ and ‘my child’, and nowhere does the text provide a family name. As a means of emphasizing Perpetua’s increasing separation from her secular family the exclusion of personal details is effective, but it does little to assist in identifying who she was.148 What the text does provide is the barest of details. Perpetua was around 22 years old at the time of her arrest and had an infant. She had a brother who was, like herself, a Christian, but was not arrested with her, and possibly other living brothers as well.149 She also had a brother,

Dinocrates, who had died as a child and was the subject of one of her visions.150 Her mother, father and a maternal aunt were all living at the time of her arrest.151

(2007), 1-19. For one interpretation of her education see P. R. McKechnie, “St. Perpetua and Roman Education in A.D. 200,” L'antiquite classique 63 (1994), 279-291. 148 On the rhetorical structure of the text see E. Ronsse, “Rhetoric of Martyrs: Listening to Saints Perpetua and Felicitas,” Journal of Early Christian Studies 14:3 (2006), 283-327, esp. 293-306. 149 Perpetua mentions her brother at several points in the text. Early on, he visits her in jail where she tries to comfort him (Passio S. Perpetuae 3.14: confortabam fratrem) and then he suggests that she seek a vision as to her fate. Passio S. Perpetuae, 4.1: “Then my brother said to me: Dear sister, already you have such great honour that you might ask for a vision and that it might be shown to you if it is to be a passion or a release” (Tunc dixit mihi frater meus: Domina soror, iam in magna dignatione es, tanta ut postules visionem et ostendatur tibi an passio sit an commeatus). That Perpetua may have had other living brothers is suggested by her father’s command that she think of how her actions will hurt her brothers. Passio S. Perpetuae, 5.3: Aspice fratres tuos. That she may have had more than one living brother is also noted by P. Dronke, Women Writers of the Middle Ages, 1, n.2. 150 On Dinocrates see Passio S. Perpetuae, 7-8, where Perpetua describes a vision she had of her brother Dinocrates, who died as a child. 151 On Perpetua’s father see Passio S. Perpetuae, 3.1-3.7, 5. On her mother see Passio S. Perpetuae, 3.14, 5.3. On her maternal aunt see Passio S. Perpetuae, 5.3. For additional discussion on Perpetua’s father, see J. Rives, “The Piety of a Persecutor,” Journal of Early Christian Studies 4 (1996), 21-22.

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For her companions, no familial connections are specified. While it is often assumed that Felicitas was Perpetua’s slave, nowhere in the text is this intimated.152 And although the group seems to know each other, and presumably were part of a Christian circle, no details are given on their relationships with one another. The possible exception to this is Saturus, whom Osiek has suggested was Perpetua’s husband. Osiek bases the argument on the interconnections between Perpetua and Saturus’ visions, as well as the close relationship the two appear to share.153 Other scholars, however, think it much more plausible that her husband was either dead, or, a Christian himself, in hiding.154 Thus, while it is clear that Perpetua is part of a family, what family this is might never be known. We do know that Perpetua fell under the jurisdiction of the procurator Hilarion and was tried by him in the forum at Carthage.155 This implies that Perpetua was from a local family, although this could certainly include the region surrounding Carthage as well.

The identity of Perpetua is additionally complicated because of the questionable authenticity of the text. That is to say, there is debate whether the section written in

Perpetua’s voice was, in fact, written by Perpetua.156 Considering the potential female

152 This owner-slave connection between Perpetua and Felicitas is assumed even by Musurillo, Acts of the Christian Martyrs, xxvi. This tendency is described by C. Osiek, “Perpetua's Husband,” Journal of Early Christian Studies 10:2 (2002), 287, n.2. 153 C. Osiek, “Perpetua's Husband,” Journal of Early Christian Studies, 287-290. 154 M. Tilley, “The Passion of Perpetua and Felicity,” in Searching the Scriptures: A Feminist Commentary, vol.2, ed. E. Schussler Fiorenza (New York: Crossroad, 1994), 829-858; P. Dronke, Women Writers of the Middle Ages, 282 n.3. 155 Hilarion’s conversation with Perpetua is detailed in Passio S. Perpetuae, 6. 156 The debate over Perpetua’s authorship has been most recently treated by V. Hunink, “Did Perpetua write her Prison Account?” Listy filologické 133:1-2 (2010), 147-155. Hunink argues against a recent trend advanced by R. S. Kraemer to dispute Perpetua’s authorship. See R. S. Kraemer, Women’s Religions in the Graeco-Roman World (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), 5-6, 356-357, and R. S. Kraemer and S. L. Lander, “Perpetua and Felicitas,” in The Early Christian World, ed. P. F. Esler (New York, 2000), 1054-1058. For by far the most positive

61 authors discussed above who existed only as references in male-authored texts, concern over the authenticity of Perpetua’s authorship is not surprising. Since the work very clearly had an editor, the possibility of tampering is real and probable.157 Perpetua is credited with writing chapters 3-10 of the text. When viewed as a whole, however, the work reflects careful balance and continual rhetorical themes that clearly indicate that

Perpetua’s section has been shaped by the redactor to some extent.158 Efforts to identify the redactor of the text have been no more successful than those to identify Perpetua.

Tertullian, her North African contemporary, has often been suggested as a possible editor; however, no one has been able to prove this conclusively.159 Thus, assumptions about Perpetua based on her literary style must be cautious, and indeed, overall, the complexity of using her text must be acknowledged.160 The paucity of historical information has no doubt contributed to the intense focus on Perpetua as a symbolic figure for women in early Christianity, rather than a historical one. Particular interest has

acceptance of her authorship in recent scholarship see E. Prinzivalli, “Perpertua the Martyr,” in Roman Women, ed. A. Fraschetti, trans. L. Lappin (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2001), 119. Prinzivalli notes in the section “A Woman Writer” that: “ Meticulous analysis of the various sections of the Passion of Perpetua has shown that there are such great stylistic differences between the language used by the compiler-editor and the language used by the author of the diary, that it is extremely unlikely that they were written by the same person, unless he (or she) were the cleverest forger in the whole of antiquity.” 157 While pointing out many of these issues, Bremmer still holds (as I do) that Perpetua was the original author of the section of text credited to her, despite the presence of an editor. See J. N. Bremmer, “Perpetua and her Diary: Authenticity, Family and Visions,” 83. Conversely, Vierow sees the multiplicity of voices within the text as a literary more than a historical phenomenon. See H. B. Vierow, “Feminine and Masculine Voices in the ‘Passion of Saints Perpetua and Felicitas’,” Latomus 58:3 (1999), 601-619. 158 E. Ronsse, “Rhetoric of Martyrs: Listening to Saints Perpetua and Felicitas,” 293-294. 159 On the identification of Tertullian as the redactor see P. Dronke, Women Writers of the Middle Ages, 283, n.5. This identity is strongly refuted by T. D. Barnes, Tertullian: A Historical and Literary Study, rev. ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985), 71, 263-265. Barnes’ view tends to be more accepted today. See E. Ronsse, “Rhetoric of Martyrs: listening to Saints Perpetua and Felicitas,” 289. 160 The issue of authorship and voice in Perpetua’s text is addressed in greater detail in Chapter Two, 109-112.

62 been generated by scholars in regards to how Perpetua exemplifies gender mediation in early Christianity.161 Of equal interest has been Perpetua’s relationship with

Montanism.162 In other words, studies have been concentrated on topics that do not

(necessarily) require the knowledge of who Perpetua was. In this way, Perpetua is similar to many of the female authors discussed above, whose identities remain unknown.

Late Antique Authors: Proba

The identity of Proba is also problematic and stands, as yet, unresolved.163 Proba identifies herself as such in her cento, but fails to present a full name. The ascription to

161 See, for example, the recent dissertaion of A. Kleinkauf Morrow, Struggling with the Passion of Saint Perpetua: Gendering the Female Body in Late Antiquity and Beyond, Diss. University of Arkansas, 2005. For further discussion see E. Prinzivalli, “Perpetua the Martyr,” in Roman Women, 118-140; G. Gillette, “Augustine and the Significance of Perpetua's words: ‘and I was a man’,” Augustinian Studies 32:1 (2001), 115-125; A. Wypustek, “Pagans and Christians around Perpetua and Felicitas: The Study of Pagan Ideas during Persecution at the Turn of the Second Century,” Eos 85:2 (1998), 279-283; P. R. McKechnie, “‘Women's Religion’ and Second- Century Christianity,” Journal of Ecclesiastical History 47:3 (1996), 409-431. K. Cooper, “The Voice of the Victim: Gender, Representation and Early Christian Martyrdom,” Bulletin of the John Rylands University Library 80:3 (1998), 147-157. 162 One recent example of this is R. D. Butler, The New Prophecy & "New Visions": Evidence of Montanism in The Passion of Perpetua and Felicitas, Patristic Monograph Series 18 (Washington: The Catholic University of America Press, 2006). For an overview of Montanism more generally, see F. Klawiter, The New Prophecy in Early Christianity: The Origin, Nature, and Development of Monantism, Diss. Chicago, 1975. Perpetua’s relationship with Montanism is discussed at length in Chapter Five, 261-262. 163 By far the most significant work on Proba to date is the critical edition, translation, and commentary in E. A. Clark and D. F. Hatch, The Golden Bough, the Oaken Cross: the Vergilian Cento of Faltonia Betitia Proba (California: Scholars Press, 1981). A critical edition is also available in C. Schenkl, Cento Vergilianus de laudibus Chritii: Poetae Christiani Minores, I. Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum 18 (Vienna: F. Tempsky, 1888), 609-627. For a recent English translation see I. M. Plant, Women Writers in Ancient Greece and Rome, 171-187. For a general introduction to Proba see E. A. Clark and D. F. Hatch, The Golden Bough, the Oaken Cross: the Vergilian Cento of Faltonia Betitia Proba, 97-102, and G. R. Kastner and A. Millin, “Proba,” in A Lost Tradition: Women Writers of the Early Church, 33-35. An excellent overview of Proba’s work is also available in C. O. Sandnes, The Gospel “According to Homer and Virgil”: Cento and Canon (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 141-180. For an introduction to Virgilian

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Faltonia Betitia Proba is made by Isidore of Seville who identifies her as the wife of

Adelfius, once prefect of Rome.164 If true, Adelfius, whose prefecture can be dated to

351, thus presents a framework for the life of Proba.165 This identity was maintained during the Middle Ages, as is noted by Boccaccio in his De Mulieribus claris (1362), and indeed is generally still accepted today.166 This seemingly straightforward identification was challenged by Shanzer who made an argument for the author of the cento being not

Faltonia Betitia Proba, but her daughter/granddaughter Anicia Faltonia Proba. The basis of her argument was philological, in that she pointed out the imitation in the cento of another literary work, the Carmen contra paganos, composed c. 385. On this basis she argued that the cento, ipso facto, could not have been composed until c. 385 and so must have been the work of a Proba living in that time.167 While not widely accepted, this later dating of the cento and its author has been taken up by Barnes, who added yet another complication. He focused on the funeral inscription of Adelfius to argue that Adelfius’ wife could not possibly have been alive in the or 360s when she is generally credited with writing the cento.168 The inscription is as follows:

cento in secular form, see S. McGill, Virgil Recomposed: The Mythological and Secular Centos in Antiquity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 1-30. 164 Isidore of Seville, Etymologiae, 1.39.26 (trans. S. A. Barney, J. A. Beach, and O. Berghof, Etymologies of Isidore of Seville (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 66): “In fact, Proba, wife of Adelphus, copied a very full cento from Vergil on the creation of the world and the Gospels, with its subject matter composed in accordance with Vergil’s verses, and the verses fitted together in accordance with her subject matter” (Denique Proba, uxor Adelphi, centonem ex Vergilio de Fabrica mundi et Evangeliis plenissime expressit, materia conposita secundum versus, et versibus secundum materiam concinnatis). 165 Chr. Min. 1.65-9. 166 G. Boccaccio, De Mulieribus Claris, XCVII. On the modern acceptance of Faltonia Betitia Proba see, for example, H. Harich-Schwarzbauer, “Proba,” Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2011). 167 D. Shanzer, “The Anonymous Carmen contra paganos and the Date and Identity of the Centoist Proba,” Revue des Etudes Augustiniennes 32 (1986), 232-248. 168 T.D. Barnes, “An Urban Prefect and his Wife,” 249-256.

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Clodius Adelfius v(ir) c(larissimus) ex praefectis urbis uxori incomparabili et sibi fecit. (CIL 6.1712)169

Standard epigraphical conventions suggest that such an inscription indicates that the wife predeceased the husband.170 However, as is equally typical of many Latin funerary inscriptions, no name is given for the wife, nor any date. Barnes argues that Adelfius was executed for treason shortly after his term as prefect and suggests that his wife, Faltonia

Betitita Proba, must therefore have died before 352 and more likely before 351.171 On these grounds, Barnes rejects the notion that the author of the cento is Faltonia, and instead opts for Anicia. Recently Shanzer’s identification and Barnes’ agreement with it has been strongly challenged by Green, who has argued for a composition date during the reign of (361-363).172 Green quite successfully argues against much of both

Shanzer’s and Barnes’ evidence. In the first part, the ambiguity of the inscription is discussed. Green notes, quite rightly, that nothing in the inscription demonstrates conclusively that Adelphius’ wife was dead, and that this wife was Proba.173 In addition, he challenges Shanzer’s suggestion that the cento demonstrates a familiarity with the

169 “Clodius Adelfius, a most illustrious man and a prefect of the city, made this for his incomparable wife and for himself.” For the original publication of this inscription, see D. Montelatici, Villa Borghese fuori di (Rome, 1700), 42. 170 For a general introduction to Roman epigraphical conventions, see B. D. Shaw, “Latin Funerary Epigraphy and Family Life in the Later Roman Empire,” Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte 33:4 (1984), 457-497; R. P. Saller and B. D. Shaw, “Tombstones and Roman Family Relations in the Principate: Civilians, Soldiers and Slaves,” The Journal of Roman Studies 74 (1984), 124-156. Of key importance here is the fact that in over 80% of known funerary inscriptions those not named as the dedicator but named in the inscription are deceased. See B. D. Shaw, “Latin Funerary Epigraphy and Family Life in the Later Roman Empire,” 463, n.16. 171 T.D. Barnes, “An Urban Prefect and his Wife,” 254. 172 Green’s argument can be found in three articles. See most recently R. P. H. Green, “Which Proba Wrote the Cento?,” Classical Quarterly 58:1 (2008), 264-276. See also R. P. H. Green, “Proba’s Introduction to Her Cento,” 548-559 and “Proba’s Cento: Its Date, Purpose, and Reception,” 551-563. 173 R. P. H. Green, “Which Proba Wrote the Cento?,” 268.

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Carmen contra paganos174 by suggesting that what appears to be an intertextual relationship between the two works is much more likely a reflection of the Virgilian sources used by both authors, and that in terms of demonstrating awareness of the other text, it is just as likely that the Carmen contra paganos is reflecting the cento as that the cento is reflecting the Carmen contra paganos.175 Green also rejects the connection drawn by Shanzer between Jerome’s denouncement (in the same letter) of cento and old women who teach with that of a specific living woman (Jerome, Ep. 53.7):

The chatty old woman, the doting old man, and the wordy sophist, one and all take in hand the Scriptures, rend them in pieces and teach them before they have learned them. Some with brows knit and bombastic words, balanced one against the other philosophize concerning the sacred writings among weak women. Others— I blush to say it— learn of women what they are to teach men; and as if even this were not enough, they boldly explain to others what they themselves by no means understand… They do not deign to notice what Prophets and apostles have intended but they adapt conflicting passages to suit their own meaning, as if it were a grand way of teaching— and not rather the faultiest of all— to misrepresent a writer's views and to force the scriptures reluctantly to do their will. 176

174 Ibid., 270-272. 175 Ibid., 270-272. Green is supported in his dismissal of the Carmen contra paganos in the earlier article by J. F. Matthews, “The Poetess Proba and Fourth-Century Rome: Questions of Interpretation,” in Institutions, Société et Vie Politique dans l’Empire Romain au IVe siècle ap. J.- C. Actes de la table ronde autour de l’oeuvre d’André Chastagnol, ed. M. Christol, S. Demougin, Y. Duval, C. Lepelley, and L. Pietri, Collection de l’École française de Rome 159 (Rome, 1992), 277-304. 176 Jerome, Ep. 53.7 (Patrologia Latina (PL) 22.544) (trans. W.H. Fremantle, G. Lewis and W.G. Martley, Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Second Series, Vol. 6. Ed. P. Schaff and H. Wace (Buffalo: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1893): Hanc garrula anus, hanc delirus senex, hanc sophista verbosus, hanc universi praesumunt, lacerant, docent, antequam discant. Alii adducto supercilio, grandia verba trutinantes, inter mulierculas de sacris litteris philosophantur. Alii discunt, proh pudor, a feminis, quod viros doceant: et ne parum hoc sit, quadam facilitate verborum, imo audacia edisserunt aliis, quod ipsi non intelligunt…nec scire dignantur, quid Prophetae, quid Apostoli senserint; sed ad sensum suum incongrua aptant testimonia; quasi grande sit, et non vitiosissimum docendi genus, depravare sententias, et ad voluntatem suam Scripturam trahere repugnantem. A. Fassina, Una Patrizia Romana al Servizio della Fede: Il

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While Shanzer interprets this letter to be a direct criticism against Proba, Green regards it as a much more general commentary, and, indeed, it is difficult to prove Jerome’s intentions decisively.177 Therefore, views on Proba’s identity are divided between two women, and two dates: Faltonia Betitia Proba writing in the mid-fourth-century, and

Anicia Faltonia Proba writing in the . Neither interpretation is fully satisfactory with the limited evidence at hand.

Determining the author, and thus the date, of this text is not an idle exercise.

Dating the text has serious repercussions for interpreting its purpose and reception. If the cento is dated to the reign of Julian, after his 362 rescript on Christian teachers,178 then the purpose of the text is most likely seditious. That is to say, the cento can be seen as a means of circumventing legislation that prohibited Christians from teaching the pagan classics. And, indeed, Green interprets the text as such.179 Understanding the cento in this way posits the belief that the cento was meant primarily as a school text and that its purpose was actually to educate Christian children in Virgil, a use that we know the text was put to in the Middle Ages. Thus, viewing the cento as a response to Julian suggests one interpretation of the text, an educational solution to an intellectual community suddenly nervous about dialogue across religious lines.

Centone Cristiano di Faltonia Betitia Proba, Diss. Università Ca' Foscari di Venezia, 2004, suggests that Jerome could be referring to Melania the Elder rather than Proba. 177 D. Shanzer, “The Anonymous Carmen contra paganos and the Date and Identity of the Centoist Proba,” 82, and R. P. H. Green, “Which Proba Wrote the Cento?,” 274-275. 178 For a general discussion of Julian’s rescript and surviving fragments, see P. Ciholas, The Omphalos and the Cross: Pagans and Christians in Search of a Divine Center (Macon: Mercer University Press, 2003), 413-419. 179 Green puts forward this argument in “Proba’s Introduction to Her Cento,” 548-559, and “Proba’s Cento: Its Date, Purpose, and Reception,” 551-563.

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Following the interpretation that the cento was composed in the 380s alters its purpose and reception. As symbolized by the removal of the Altar of Victory from the senate chambers, the 380s is a much more Christian environment than the other proposed date of the text.180 The need for caution in expressing Christian views was no longer present and no longer can be considered a significant factor. Rather, the importance of expressing Christian beliefs is becoming a key feature of the intellectual landscape. Thus, the cento becomes, in addition to a devotional text, a piece of political propaganda.181

Considering the public success of the family, identifying with appropriate religious sentiment would be a necessary requirement, and the cento could easily have served such a function.

Therefore, the contrast between a date in the 360s and a date in the 380s offers very different interpretations for the purpose of the cento and also how it might be received. That is to say, the cento can be interpreted either as the underhanded perpetuation of classical literature within Christian parameters or the overt perpetuation of familial devotion to Christianity, two not precisely opposing interpretations but very diverse nonetheless.

A third option, not seriously considered by Green, Shanzer or Barnes, is to take

352 as a terminus ante quem for composition and to designate the cento to the period before this, when Faltonia Betetia Proba was alive. There are a number of reasons to look towards an earlier date for the cento. In the first place, it accommodates Isidore of

180 On the Altar of Victory and the Christianization of Rome, see M. R. Salzman, The Making of a Christian Aristocracy: Social and Religious Change in the (Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 2004), 74-77. 181 This aspect of the text will be explored at length in Chapter Five.

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Seville’s identification of the author as Faltonia Betitia Proba, the wife of Adelfius. In the second, public expressions of Christian devotion are far more in keeping with aristo- political families under Constantine than under Constans or Julian. Barnes has convincingly argued that the Roman aristocracy, at least those of the highest orders, converted to Christianity in significant numbers following Constantine’s initial defeat of

Licinius in 316.182 In the period between 317 and 337 he points to the appointment of 17

Christian consuls versus 5 pagan consuls, and 8 Christians named Praefecti Urbis Romae compared to 4 pagan ones. In the period between 324 and 337 he also points to 6

Christians appointed Preafecti Praetorio compared to one pagan.183 The political implications of being Christian are self-evident for this period. Significantly, with

Constans’ control of the west between 337 and 350 this pattern reverses, and pagans make up the majority of known appointments at the highest ranks with 5 pagan consuls, compared to 4 Christian consuls, 7 pagans named Praefecti Praetorio and only one

Christian, and 8 pagans appointed Praefecti Urbis Romae compared to one Christian.184

Thus, it is also possible that if the cento was written before 352 it comes from the period before 337, when being a known Christian family was a strong political asset.185

Both the Probii and the Anicii were early converts to Christianity, with demonstrable associations with Constantine’s court from 314 onwards.

Anianus, Faltonia Betitia Proba’s grandfather, was consul in 314. Petronius Probianus, the most likely father of our Proba, served as proconsul in Africa from 315-317, consul in

182 T.D. Barnes, “Statistics and the Conversion of the Roman Aristocracy,” The Journal of Roman Studies 85 (1995), 135-147, esp. 144. 183 Ibid. 146. 184 Ibid. 185 For a much more in-depth discussion on Proba’s Christianity as a political asset, see Chapter Five, 242-247.

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322, and then prefect of Rome from 329-331.186 Novak has suggested that their political success was in part due to their decision to follow Constantine’s religious conversion, and to identify themselves with the Imperial Christian ideology.187 A similar conversion has been suggested for the Anicii who became prominent in the 320s following a decade of political exclusion.188 Probianus was also a correspondent of . Jerome notes that Lactantius had four books of letters to a Probus amongst his literary works.189

As a poet, Probianus’ correspondence with Lactantius is intriguing, particularly in light of Lactantius’ Divine Institutes and his potential authorship of The Phoenix. In the

Divine Institutes, Lactantius offers several discussions of the ability of poetry to prove the existence of God. Lactantius sees poetry, pre-Christian poetry, as possessing a divine spark, and identifies Virgil as being pre-eminent in this regard.190 He cites verses from the Aeneid as proof that Virgil actually did envision and endorse the idea of one true God.

Know first, the heaven, the earth, the main, The moon’s pale orb, the starry train, Are nourished by a Soul, A Spirit, whose celestial flame Glows in each member of the frame, And stirs the mighty whole.191

186 Prosopography of the Later Roman Empire I, 68-9. 187 D. M. Novak, “Constantine and the Senate: An Early Phase in the Christianization of the Roman Aristocracy,” Ancient Society 10 (1979), 296. 188 H. Sivan, “Anician Women, the Cento of Proba, and Aristocratic Conversion in the Fourth Century,” 151. 189 Jerome, Illus. Vir. 80 (PL 23.687B). On the relationship between Lactantius and Probianus see T. D. Barnes, “Statistics and the Conversion of the Roman Aristocracy,” 143, and “More Missing Names (A. D. 260-395),” Phoenix 27:2 (1973), 149. 190 Lactantius, Div. Inst., 1.5 (PL 6.129A-138A); on Lactantius’ activities during this time see E. D. Digeser, The Making of a Christian Empire: Lactantius and Rome (Cornell Univeristy Press, 2000); T. D. Barnes “Lactantius and Constantine,” The Journal of Roman Studies, 63 (1973), 29- 46. 191 Virgil, Aen. 6.724-727 (trans. W. Fletcher, Ante-Nicene Fathers, vol. 7, ed. A. Roberts, J. Donaldson, and A. Cleveland Coxe (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1886)):

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However, Lactantius also notes that much of the truth about God has been distorted by the poets, who were largely unaware of the divinity about which they wrote.192 It is in Virgil, however, that Lactantius sees the closest indications of a

Christian truth, and it is Virgil from whom he draws his examples. Considering

Probianus’ interest in poetry, and the indication of a lively correspondence between

Probianus and Lactantius, what might have the implications been for Lactantius’ enthusiastic support of Virgil as a Christian forerunner? Equally interesting is Lactantius’ potential authorship of The Phoenix. This allegorical poem explores the myth of the phoenix, which rises from its ashes to live again.193 The allusion to Christ’s resurrection is never directly broached, but can certainly be inferred. The use of the phoenix as a symbol of the resurrection was employed by other Christian writers, including Clement of Rome, Tertullian and , and Lactantius seems to have been working within this tradition.194 Thus, while Probianus’ poems have not survived, we do know what the poetic interests of one of his correspondents were, a correspondent who became the tutor of Constantine’s son Crispus. That Proba wrote an allegorical Christian poem using

Virgil could then potentially be seen as a reflection of the literary interests of her father and his circle.

Principio caelum ac terras camposque liquentis/ lucentemque globum lunae Titaniaque astra/ spiritus intus alit, totamque infusa per artus/ mens agitat molem et magno se corpore miscet. 192 See Lactantius, Epit. Div. Inst. 3,11,12 (PL 6.1021A-1021C, 1025C-1026C); Div. Inst. 7.10 (PL 6.767B-769B). For a more sophisticated analysis of Lactantius’ use of Vergil see A. L. Fisher, “Lactantius' Ideas Relating Christian Truth and Christian Society,” Journal of the History of Ideas, 43:3 (1982), 355-377. 193 For additional discussion of this poem, see Lactantius, The Divine Institutions, trans. M. F. McDonald (Washington, 1964), 210. 194 Ibid.

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Such a date has implications for Proba’s reference to an earlier poem she wrote which has not survived, but which she refers to in her cento.

From earliest times, leaders had broken sacred Vows of peace—poor men, caught up in a fatal Greed for power. And I have catalogued The different slayings, monarch’s cruel wars, And battle lines made up of hostile Relatives…I do confess…195

It is generally assumed that Proba is referring to the war between Constantius and

Magnentius. If, however, Proba was dead at this time, it is necessary to look for an earlier conflict involving hostile relatives. The obvious choice for this would be the war between

Constantine and Maxentius/Maximian/Licinius.196 Coming from a firmly pro-Constantine family, it would be unsurprising if Proba, as a young woman, wrote a poem celebrating

Constantine’s victory against Maxentius in 312 or Licinius in 324. If this is correct, it is possible to assign the cento to the period after this. Thus, the period between 324 and 337 seems far the most likely period in which the cento was produced.

This is not to deny that Anicia Faltonia Proba had a role in the version of the cento extant today. Almost certainly, the creation and delivery of the copy of the cento

195 Proba, Cento, 1-8 (trans. E. A. Clark and D. F. Hatch, The Golden Bough, the Oaken Cross: the Vergilian Cento of Faltonia Betitia Proba (California: Scholars Press, 1981), 15): Iam dudum temerasse duces pia foedera pacis,/ regnandi miseros tenuit quos dira cupido,/ diuersasque neces, regum crudelia bella/ cognatasque acies, pollutos caede parentum/ insignis clipeos nulloque ex hoste tropaea…confiteor. 196 According to a remark in a tenth-century manuscript, cited in E. A. Clark and D. F. Hatch, The Golden Bough, the Oaken Cross: the Vergilian Cento of Faltonia Betitia Proba, 98: Proba, uxor Adelphii, mater Olibrii et Aliepii cum Constantini bellum adversus Magnentium conscripsisset, conscripsit et hunc librem. For the emendation of the war from that of Constantius and Magnentius (the usual view) to that of Constantine and Maxentius see J. Vanderspoel, “Proba,” in The Cambridge Dictionary of Classical Civilization, ed. G. Shipley, J. Vanderspoel, D. Mattingly and L. Foxhall (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 723.

72 that was sent to the eastern court occurred under her guidance.197 Quite possibly the author of the dedication to was Anicia Faltonia Proba herself. This later involvement with the cento further adds to the confusion about the authorship. It may also provide the answer to one particularly nagging issue, that of the date of Easter.

Attached to the end of the cento is an epilogue that discusses the evil of postponing

Easter, a rather odd conclusion:

Proceed, O Grace of us mortal men, proceed O Pride and Glory sprung from such achievements. Draw near to us and to your yearly worship with joyful step—it’s a sin to postpone the Ascension Day–…198

Shanzer has argued extensively that this reference to celebrating Easter on the correct day links the cento to the Easter controversy of 387.199 Sivan’s elegant suggestion that this was an addition to the cento by Anicia Faltonia Proba rather than any indication of a date of composition has been largely ignored by scholars.200 However, the suggestion has merit. Anicia Faltonia seems a particularly good choice for dedicator, for a number of reasons. Firstly, her own notable religious devotion makes it suitable for her

197 H. Sivan, “Anician Women, The Cento of Proba, and Aristocratic Conversion in the Fourth Century,” 140-157. 198 Proba, Cento, 689-691 (trans. E. A. Clark and D. F. Hatch, The Golden Bough, the Oaken Cross: the Vergilian Cento of Faltonia Betitia Proba, 95): I decus, I, nostrum, tantarum Gloria rerum,/ et nos et tua dexter adi pede sacra secundo/ anna, quae differre nefas. 199 D. Shanzer, “The Anonymous Carmen contra paganos and the Date and Identity of the Centoist Proba,” 80-82. The dispute over the date of Easter in 387 was intense and led to Easter being celebrated on three different days across the empire: 14 March in Gaul, 21 March in , 25 April in Alexandria. See G. R. Evans, A Brief History of Heresy (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2003), 71-72. For completeness it is worth noting that the date of Easter was also an issue at various points early in the fourth century. 200 H. Sivan, “Anician Women, the Cento of Proba, and Aristocratic Conversion in the Fourth Century,” 53.

73 to comment on the cento.201 Secondly, if the cento was written by Betitia Proba, the author was either her mother or grandmother, making the cento the birthright of later women in the family. If this is the case, the cento became a piece of family propaganda for not only one but at least two different generations of the Probii/Anicii. As noted by

Sivan, the cento of the first Proba could well have been reintroduced as an expression of female religious devotion to bolster the reputation of a later Proba and her family.202

From these points it seems most plausible to assign the author of the cento as

Betitia Faltonia Proba and the original composition of the cento to the period between

324 and 337, and it is this identity that will be used throughout this thesis.

Late Antique Authors: Egeria

The identity of Egeria is an ongoing issue.203 When the first edition of the text was published in 1884 Gamurrini identified the author as St. Silvia of Aquitaine.204 His

201 On the later Proba’s religious involvement see Chapter Five, 241-242. 202 H. Sivan, “Anician Women, the Cento of Proba, and Aristocratic Conversion in the Fourth Century,” 153. 203 The first critical edition of the text was made by J. F. Gamurrini, S. Hilarii tractatus de mysteriis et hymni et S. Silviae Aquitane peregrinatio ad loca sancta (Biblioteca dell’Accademia storico-giuridica 4, Rome, 1887), which was reprinted the following year as J. F. Gamurrini, "S. Silvae Aquitaine; Perigrinatio ad Loca Sancta," Studi e documenti di Storia e Diritto 9 (1888), 97- 174. Numerous other early editions were produced, a full list of which can be found in G. E. Gringas, Egeria: Diary of a Pilgrimage (New Jersey: The Newman Press, 1970), 135-136. The most recent edition is G. Röwekamp, Egeria Itinerarium (Risebericht), Fontes Christiani 20 (1995). The bibligraphy on Egeria is extensive. For a general introduction to Egeria see G. E. Gringas, Egeria: Diary of a Pilgrimage, 1-47 and J. Wilkinson, Egeria’s Travels (London: Aris & Phillips, 1999). A strong overview and bibliography of the arguments dealing with date of Egeria’s pilgrimage can be found in E. D. Hunt, “The Date of the Itinerarium Egeriae,” Studia Patristica 38 (2001), 410-416. The article compilation Atti del convegno Internazionale sulla Perigrinatio Egeriae. Accademia Petrarca di Lettre arti e Scienze Arezzo, 1987, also provides many introductory papers on a variety of aspects of Egeria by Italian scholars. On Egeria’s language (which is discussed at length in Chapter Three, 147-156) see G. Haverling, “On Linguistic Development and School Tradition: Direct and Indirect Evidence of the Development

74 choice of name was based on a passage from Palladius’ Lausiac History (c. 420) in which the author mentions being accompanied to the Holy Land by Silvania, the sister-in-law of a Rufinus who was an official of both Theodosius and Arcadius. In the Latin translation of Palladius that Gamurrini was using Silvania is rendered as Silvia.205 Gamurrini

of ,” Classica et et mediaevalia 55 (2004), 323-348, and also D. Gagliardi, “Sul Latino, di Egeria,” Koinonia 21:1-2 (1997), 105-116. 204 J. F. Gamurrini, "S. Silvae Aquitaine; Perigrinatio ad Loca Sancta," Studi e documenti di Storia e Diretto 9 (1888), 97. 205 Palladius, LH 45 (trans. W. K. L. Clarke, The Lausiac History of Palladius (London: SPCK, 1918)): “It so happened that we traveled together from Aelia to Egypt, escorting the blessed Silvania the virgin, sister-in-law of Rufinus the ex-prefect. Among the party there was Jovinus also with us, then a deacon, but now bishop of the church of Ascalon, a devout and learned man. We came into an intense heat and, when we reached Pelusium, it chanced that Jovinus took a basin and gave his hands and feet a thorough wash in ice-cold water, and after washing flung a rug on the ground and lay down to rest. She came to him like a wise mother of a true son and began to scoff at his softness, saying: ‘How dare you at your age, when your blood is still vigorous, thus coddle your flesh, not perceiving the mischief that is engendered by it? Be sure of this, be sure of it, that I am in the sixtieth year of my life and except for the tips of my fingers neither my feet nor my face nor any one of my limbs have touched water, although I am a victim to various ailments and the doctors try to force me. I have not consented to make the customary concessions to the flesh, never in my travels have I rested on a bed or used a litter.’ Being very learned and loving literature she turned night into day by perusing every writing of the ancient commentators, including 3,000,000 (lines) of Origen and 2,500,000 (lines) of Gregory, Stephen, Pierius, Basil, and other standard writers. Nor did she read them once only and casually, but she laboriously went through each book seven or eight times. Wherefore also she was enabled to be freed from knowledge falsely so called and to fly on wings, thanks to the grace of these books; elevated by kindly hopes she made herself a spiritual bird and journeyed to Christ” (Illo tempore contigit ut nos simul navigaremus ab Aelia in Aegyptum, deducentes beatam Silvaniam virginem, sororem autem Ruffini, qui fuit ex praefectis. Inter quos erat etiam nobiscum Jubinus, tunc quidem diaconus, nunc autem episcopus ecclesiae Ascalonis, vir pius et eruditus. Cum autem vehementissimus nos aestus invasisset, et pervenissemus Pelusium, accidit ut Jubinus, accepta pelvi, pedes et manus palmis lavaret aqua frigidissima, et postquam lavisset, super pelliculam humi stratam requiesceret. Cum autem illa id advertisset, ut mater sapiens germani filii, eius increpavit mollitiem, dicens: Qui in animum inducis, illam agens aetatem, vivente adhuc tuo sanguine, usque adeo tuam fovere carunculam, non sentiens damna quae ex eo oriuntur? Confide, confide: ecce ago annum aetatis sexagesimum, praeter extrema manuum mearum (et hoc propter communionem) non pes meus aquam tetigit, non vultus, neque ullum ex membris meis, etiamsi me variae invaserint aegritudines; et cum a medicis cogerer uti balneo, non induxi in animum carni reddere debitum, non in lecto quiescens, non lectica usquam gestata ingrediens. Haec cum esset doctissima, doctrinam amore complexa, noctes uberi oleo a se illuminatas mutabat in dies, omnia antiquorum qui commentarios ediderunt scripta percurrens, Origenis tricies centena millia versuum, Gregorii et Stephani, et Pierii, et Basilii, et quorumdam aliorum praestantis virtutis virorum millia ducenta et quinquaginta non leviter nec temere haec percurrens, sed elaborate septies vel octies unumquemque librum perlegens, ut horum verborum

75 equated this Silvia to the St. Silvia of Aquitaine, since Rufinus was from Elusa. While neither Gamurrini nor other early scholars were satisfied with this identity, the complete lack of other options meant that most early works on Egeria used the name Silvia. The exception to this was Kohler who tried, and failed, to identify the author of the text as

Galla , the daughter of Theodosius and Galla.206 An additional identity that was briefly proposed, and also rejected, was that of a mid-fifth-century abbess, Flavia, who came from Gaul and founded a convent in Jerusalem.207

The first substantial work on identifying the author came in 1903 with Ferotin who connected the text with a figure described in a letter by the seventh-century Spanish monk Valerius.208 In this letter, Valerius describes a female pilgrim from the past, who was from the furthest shores of the western ocean, a term used by other Ibero- Romantic writers to describe Galicia. In the four surviving copies of this letter the pilgrim is identified as Egeria, Eiheria, Aeiheria, Etheria, Aethera, and Eucheria. That is to say, in the Toledo (AD 902) manuscript the pilgrim is Egeria, in the Escorial (AD 954) and Silos

(eleventh-century) manuscripts she is called Egeria, Eiheria and Aeheria, and in the much later Carracedo manuscript (eighteenth-century) she is called Etheria, Aethera and

gratia in altum erigeretur, spe bona seipsam avem efficiens spiritalem, et ad Christum evolans, immortales ab ipso acceptura remunerationes). On Palladius’s Lausiac History more generally, see N. Molinier, Ascèse, Contemplation et Ministère d'après l'Histoire Lausiaque de Pallade d'Helenopolis (Bégrolles-en-Mauges: Abbaye de Bellefontaine, 1995), and K. Savvidis, “Palladius III,” Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2011). On Gamurrini’s misunderstanding of the “Silvia” in Palladius’ text, see G. E. Gringas, Egeria: Diary of a Pilgrimage (New Jersey: The Newman Press, 1970), 2-3. 206 C. Kohler, "Note sur un Manuscript de la Biblioteche d'Arrezo," Biblioteche de l'Ecole de Chartres 45 (1884), 141-51. 207 H. Goussen, “Über Georgische Drucke und Handschriften,” in Liturgie und Kunst, ed. M. Gladbach (1923), n.1. 208 M. Férotin, "Le Véritable Auteur de la 'Perigrinatio Silvae', la Vierge Espagnole Éthérie," Revue des Questions Historiques 30 (1903), 367-397, esp. 371.

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Eucheria.209 Ferotin chose Aetheria or Etheria as the most likely original name of the author, as this name was known to be used in the region, rejecting Egeria as too unusual, because he could find no evidence for the existence of anyone with this name in

Galicia.210 Aetheria was accepted over Silvia by the majority of scholars at the time, but still was seen as a tenuous conclusion at best. Even Ferotin expressed some frustration.

Bouvy argued for the name Eucheria, pointing out the popularity of Greek names in

Spain in the fifth century and trying to connect the author to a certain Eucheria who was the daughter of Flavius Eucherius, the uncle of Theodosius.211 However, he failed to sway the academic community away from Aetheria. It was Wilmart, in 1911/12, who first pushed seriously for Egeria. His argument was based on entries in two monastic catalogues. The first is in the index of books in the AD 935 charter for the Monastery of

San Salvador de Celanova. Here is included an entry for the Ingerarium Geriae.212 The second is the catalogue from the library of St. Martial in Limoges. In this catalogue there are three separate mentions of the Itinerarium Egeria abbatisse.213 Therefore, out of all the various names used in the Valerius manuscripts, only Egeria had independent support.

Wilmart then went on to argue that the Eiheria/Aiheria of the Escorial-Silos tradition was in fact a phonetic transcription of Egeria, not a different name, and simply reflected evolving pronounciations. Thirdly, Wilmart pointed out that at the top of the Escorial

209 For a summary of surviving manuscripts see J. Wilkinson, Egeria’s Travels (London: Aris & Phillips, 1999), 168. 210 M. Férotin, "Le Véritable Auteur de la 'Perigrinatio Silvae', la Vierge Espagnole Éthérie," 367- 397, esp. 378. 211 E. Bouvy, "Le Pèlerinage d'Euchérie," Revue augustinienne 3 (1903), 522. 212 A. Wilmart, “Egeria,” Revue bénédictine 28 (1911) 68-75 and “Encore Egeria,” Revue bénédictine 29 (1912) 91-96. Both short articles outline the manuscript support for the name of Egeria. 213 A. Wilmart, “Egeria,” 72.

77 manuscript, the scribe had written Egeria, even though the letter itself uses Eiheria.214

Despite these arguments support for the name Egeria was slow to come. In 1923

Mountford further connected the name Egeria to the text. He pointed out an entry in an

AD 750 Liber glossarum that was clearly taken from chapter 15 of the text. In the three surviving manuscripts of this gloss the author of the entry is named as Egerie, Egeriae and Egene.215 Even so, it was not until 1936, when Lambert took up Wilmart’s argument for the name Egeria, that support for the name began to shift. Endorsing both Wilmart and Mountford, Lambert added a final piece of evidence, that is, proof that the name

Egeria was used in Spain. Lambert pointed out an AD 899 monastic charter from Oviedo that included the name Egeria.216 Following the publication of Lambert’s article the name Egeria became firmly attached to the author of the text.

If there is a consensus on the name of the author, however, there is little else about her that is agreed upon. With the acceptance of the name Egeria several possible identities were eliminated, namely, Silvania the sister-in-law of Rufinus, ,

Eucheria the cousin of Theodosius, and Flavia, the abbess of a Jerusalem convent. The elimination of these prominent or known women as potential identities has rendered

Egeria into a much more nebulous figure. In keeping with the possible Theodosian connection, Lambert tried to establish Egeria as the younger sister (rather than daughter) of Galla. Galician in origin, Galla did have a sister who was involved in the Origenist heresy and who was well known for her travels.217 This identity has never gained much

214 A. Wilmart, “Egeria,” 92, 94. 215J. F. Mountford, “Silvia, Aetheria or Egeria?,” Classical Quarterly 17:1 (1923), 40-41. 216A. Lambert, "Egeria: Mots Critiques sur la Tradition de Son Nom et Celle de l'Itinerarium Egeriae," Revue Mabillon 26 (1936), 71-74. 217 A. Lambert, "Egeria, Soeur de Galla," Revue Mabillon 27 (1933), 1-42, esp. 41.

78 support however, since the Valerius letter and the library catalogues make such strong monastic associations with Egeria. Valerius identifies her as both beatissima sanctimonialis and virgo,218 while the St. Martial catalogue calls her abbatisse. Taken in conjunction with Egeria’s work, in which she repeatedly addresses an unidentified affectio vestra, it seems most probable that she is from an organized religious community. Such an identity is bolstered by a number of elements in the text, such as her tendency to always seek out monks, her visit to her friend the deaconess Marthona, and her particular attention to liturgical life in Jerusalem that would have been particularly relevant to monastics, like the details of the nocturnal offices.219

Galicia is generally accepted as her homeland. Early works sought to identify her with Aquitaine or Gallia Narbonenis, largely based on linguistic arguments, but with the

Valerius letter a firm connection to Galicia has been established, and, in fact, there are as many elements to argue for an Ibero-Latin style as for a French.220 Without additional information it seems that the most that can be concluded and agreed upon is that Egeria was a woman from Galicia with strong connections to a religious community.

The date of Egeria’s text is an even more obscure issue. The lack of a firm identity for the author means that there is no known life span in which to situate the text.

218 Valerius of Bierzo, Ep. 1.2. Valerius’ letter is translated in full in J. Wilkinson, Egeria’s Travels, 200-204. For an early edition of the letter see Z. Garcia-Villada, “ La Letter de Valerius aux moines de Vierzo sur la Bienheureuse Aetheria,” Analecta Bollandiana 29 (1910), 393-396. 219 G. E. Gringas, Egeria: Diary of a Pilgrimage (New Jersey: The Newman Press, 1970), 8. 220 This is the view taken by G. E. Gringas, Egeria: Diary of a Pilgrimage, 11; J. Wilkinson, Egeria’s Travels, 1; H. Fuelner, “Peregrinatio ad Loca Sancta,” Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2011). It should be noted that this view is not universally accepted. See C. Webber, “Egeria’s Norman Homeland,” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 92 (1989), 449; H. Sivan, “Who Was Egeria? Piety and Pilgrimage in the Age of ,” The Harvard Theological Review 81:1 (1988), 71. Both argue that the Valerius connection does not prove a Galician origin for Egeria, merely that her work was known in this region in the seventh century.

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Nor is there a date for the pilgrimage or the composition of the text, nor is there proof to make the pilgrimage and the composition synonomous activities. Dating of the text is almost entirely dependent upon internal evidence, much of which is open to interpretation. With the discovery of the text Gamurrini pushed for a date in the AD

380s.221 More recent work has pushed for a date in the AD 390s or even as late as after

AD 417.222 The major pieces of evidence in the dating debate are as follows. Early scholars drew heavily upon Egeria’s designation of three bishops as confessor, an eastern term to denote someone who had suffered (but had not been martyred) for Christianity.223

Attempts to identify these three bishops, of Edessa, Batanis, and Carrhae, requires a date between AD 382-386, as this was the only time the bishops of these cities could each be perceived as a confessor.224 However, if Egeria is accepted as being of Galician origin it must be taken into account that in Spain at the end of the fourth century confessor was also used to denote a monk who held the specific task of celebrating the divine offices.225

It may perhaps support an interpretation of the eastern use of the word confessor that

Egeria also uses the title aputactita, the eastern equivalent of the western title confessor, in her work, and so seems to be using eastern terminology, but it is a tenuous base for a textual date at best.

Early scholarship also drew upon one of dates that Egeria herself gives. Egeria says that she arrived in Carrhae on the 23rd of April, on the eve of an important feast. She

221 J. F. Gamurrini, S. Hilarii tractatus de mysteriis et hymni et S. Silviae Aquitane peregrinatio ad loca sancta (Biblioteca dell’Accademia storico-giuridica 4, Rome, 1887), xxvii-xxix. 222 A summary of the dates ascribed to Egeria is available in G. E. Gringas, Egeria: Diary of a Pilgrimage, 12-15, also n.60. 223 J. Wilkinson, Egeria’s Travels, 169. 224 For a bibliography and discussion about the term confessor, see G. E. Gringas, Egeria: Diary of a Pilgrimage, 204, n.202. 225 J. Wilkinson, Egeria’s Travels, 169.

80 also says that it took 25 days to travel from Jerusalem to Edessa, that she spent three days in Edessa and then traveled the next day to Carrhae.226 Assuming that Egeria did not leave Jerusalem until after Easter, Devos, also a supporter of the confessor argument, sought to find a date for Easter in the AD 380s that would put Egeria in Carrhae on the

23rd of April if she left Jerusalem just after Easter. This requires that Easter fall on an early date and the only possibility was AD 384, when Easter was on the 24th of March.227

Of course, the clear flaw with this argument is the assumption that Egeria was in

Jerusalem for Easter. While it does not seem an unlikely scenario, there is no actual proof for this.

Other internal evidence suggests a later date. At one point Egeria quotes Jerome’s translation of Eusebius’ Onomasticon, which was published after AD 390.228 She also mentions a number of structures that point to a later date. She describes visiting the church on Sion which was founded by Archbishop John of Jerusalem after he became archbishop in AD 387, and she visited the Imbomon prior to its restoration by Poemenia, which was completed by AD 392.229 She also mentions visiting the Martyrium of St.

Thomas, which was known to have reopened with the placement of the saint’s remains there on AD August 22, 394.230 None of these dates however are fully trustworthy. The

226 P. Devos, "La Date du Voyage d'Égérie," Analecta Bollandiana 85 (1967), 165-194. 227 Ibid. esp 193-194. It is interesting, in light of the fact that Egeria was traveling with a group, to note that this is the same year as Stilicho’s embassy to the Persians. See S. Williams and G. Friell, Theodosius: The Empire at Bay (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1995), 42. 228 J. Ziegler, "Die Perigrinatio Aetheria und die hl. Schrift," Biblica 12 (1931), 162-98, esp.98. 229 On the date of the church of Scion, see B. Bagatti, “Ancora sulla Data di Eteria,” Bibbia e Oriente 10 (1968), 73. On the restoration of the Imbomon, see P. Devos, “La Servante de Dieu, Poemenia,” Analecta Bollandiana 87 (1969), 200, 206. 230 On the new Martyrium see G. Morin, “ Un Passage Énigmatique de S. Jérôme contre la Pelerine Espagnole Eucheria?” Revue bénédictine 30 (1913), 179. For a more modern treatment of this see J. Wilkinson, Egeria’s Travels, 170.

81 assignment of the church on Sion to John II is contradicted by the earlier source St. Cyril of Jerusalem. He, in an AD 348 text, refers to a church on Sion.231 In fact, it is possible that the assignment of the founding of the church to John II is an error, and that the founder was actually John I, who was bishop of Jerusalem before Hadrian’s reign.232 Nor is the restoration of the Imbomon a firm date. In fact, Poemenia’s restoration and expansion of the church is placed between AD 379 and AD 392, making an earlier date a stronger possibility.233 And as for the Martyrium of St. Thomas, here Egeria’s Latin is open to two possibilities. The line is “perreximus ad ecclesiam et ad martyrium sancti

Thomae.”234 Proponents of a later date for the text interpret this passage as a visit to the new martyium of St. Thomas which was attached to a church.235 However, proponents of an earlier date argue that the Latin could just as easily be referring to two separate sites, a church and the older martyrium prior to its relocation in 394.236 There is also evidence that points to an even later date, namely, Egeria’s possession of Eusebius’ translation of letters from Syriac to Greek, which were translated into Latin by Rufinus in AD 403, and an attempt to identify what Egeria in chapter 42 calls a feast held 40 days after Easter, not with the standard feast of Ascension, but with the Dedication of the Basilica of the

231 Cyril of Jerusalem, Cat. 16.4 (PG 33.924) (trans. E. H. Gifford, The Catechetical Lectures of S. Cryil, Archbishop of Jerusalem, in Nicene and Post Nicene Fathers, series 2, vol. 7. ed. P. Schaff (Hendrickson, 1994), 166): “On the day of Pentecost [the Holy Ghost] descended on the Apostles in the form of fiery tongues, here, in Jerusalem, in the Upper Church of the Apostles; for in all things the choicest privileges are with us” (καὶ ἐν τῇ Πεντηκοστῇ κατελθὸν ἐπὶ τοὺς ἀποστόλους ἐν εῖδει πυρίνων γλωσσῶν, ἐνθαῦθα ἐν τῇ ‘Ιερουσαλὴµ, εν τῇ ἀνωτέρᾳ τῶν ἀποστόλων ᾿Εκκλησίᾳ). 232 J. Wilkinson, Egeria’s Travels, 170. 233 P. Maraval, Lieux Saints et Pélerinages d'Orient (Paris, 1985), 265-66. 234 Egeria, It. 19.2: “We went to the church and to the Martryium of St. Thomas.” 235 J. Wilkinson, Egeria’s Travels, 171. 236 G. E. Gringas, Egeria: Diary of a Pilgrimage, 13.

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Nativity, a coincidence that occurred in AD 417.237 Such a late date has been solidly refuted by Davies, who notes, among other arguments, that this date is based not on the

Armenian liturgical calendar but the western Gregorian liturgical calendar.238 Nor does the possession of Eusebius’ letters force a fifth-century date, since Egeria makes no mention of Rufinus’ Latin translation. In fact, the possibility that Egeria could read Greek works against the argument that Egeria had to be writing after 390, since she references

Eusebius’ Onomasticon in her work. If she could read other Greek works there is no reason she had to wait until Jerome’s 390 Latin translation of the text.

Therefore, there is no argument that can provide an absolute date for the text.

Much of the textual evidence is complicated by Egeria’s own ambiguous words, and much of the circumstantial evidence lacks concrete dates on which to rest. The text can most likely be dated between AD 381 and AD 417, but this is still a much broader time frame than is desirable. Of course, one solution may be to take this time frame more as a reflection of the dates of Egeria herself, and to consider the text to be a later composition about an earlier journey. However, this may be impossible without additional references or information. While dates in the 380s and 390s are circumstantial, there is nothing substantial enough to push the date of the pilgrimage into the 390s and there is more to argue for an earlier date.

237 Ibid., 14. 238 J. G. Davies, "Perigrinatio Egeriae and the Ascension," Greece & Rome 20 (1973), 94-100.

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Beyond Ancient Christianity: Eudocia, Hypatia, Demo II, and Eucheria

With the establishment of Theodosius and the conclusion of what has been termed early Christianity, source material for authors returns to patterns similar to those seen prior to Late Antiquity. Three fifth-century female authors are known: Eudocia, Hypatia, and Demo II. Of these, only the empress Eudocia’s work is extant.239 Although they are not the focus of this thesis, a brief discussion of these writers is appropriate here because they will be mentioned on occasion.

Eudocia (c. AD 400-460) appears to have been a prolific writer. She composed a

Christian cento in Greek using lines from Homer.240 The cento suggests some level of connection between Proba and Eudocia, a suspicion that is reinforced by that fact that a copy of Proba’s text was sent to Theodosius’ court.241 Eudocia is also known to have written a number of other poems, the longest of which, a poem on the martyrdom of St.

Cyprian, is partially extant. Another of her poems was inscribed on a plaque in the entry

239 For a general introduction to Eudocia, see H. Leppin, “Aelia Eudocia,” Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2011). On Euodica’s involvement in Byzantine politics, along with other early Byzantine empresses, see L. James, Empresses and Power in Early Byzantium (London: Leicester University Press, 2001); K. G. Holum, Theodosian Empresses: Women and Imperial Dominion in Late Antiquity (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1989). For a view that Eudocia’s writing were highly political, see A. Cameron, “The Empress and the poet: paganism and politics at the court of Theodosius II,” Yale Classical Studies 27 (1982), 217-291. On her political patronage, see E. Sironen, “An Honorary Epigram for Empress Eudocia in the Athenian Agora,” The Journal of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens 59:2 (1990), 374. On the quality of her poetry see P. van Deun, “The Poetical Writings of the Empress Eudocia: An Evaluation,” in Early Christian Poetry: A Collection of Essays, ed. J. Den Boeft and A. Hilhorst (Leiden: Brill, 1993), 282. 240 For the critical edition see A. Ludwich, Eudocia Augustae, Procli Lycii, Claudiani carminum graecorum reliquiae (Leipzig: Teubner, 1897), 3-114. For an English translation of the introduction of the cento see I. M. Plant, Women Writers in Ancient Greece and Rome, 206-207. For a detailed study of the cento, see M. D. Usher, Homeric Stitchings: The Homeric Centos of the Empress Eudocia (Lantham: University Press of America, 1998), and also M. D. Usher, “Prolegomenon to the Homeric Centos,” The American Journal of Philology 118:2 (1997), 314- 315. 241 On the transmission of Proba’s cento to the eastern court, see J. Vanderspoel, “Proba” in The Cambridge Dictionary of Classical Civilization, 723.

84 to the baths at Hammet Gader.242 Unlike Proba, Egeria and even Perpetua, Eudocia’s identity is not a mystery. The daughter of the pagan Athenian philosopher Leontius, she married Theodosius II in 421. Eudocia had traveled to in 420 to plead her case for a share of her father’s estate. While there she became friendly with Pulcheria, the sister of Theodosius, and was introduced through her to the emperor. Originally named

Athenaïs, she took the name Aelia Eudocia upon her baptism, which occurred just prior to her marriage and pressumably was a necessary requirement for marrying a Christian emperor. Following a pilgrimage to Jerusalem in 438, she became an active patron of the

Church, moving to Jerusalem (some say banished by Theodosius due to her connections to his advisor Paulinus) and building many churches and monasteries.

The Neoplatonic philosopher Hypatia (d. 415) had a renowned career as a teacher and writer in Alexandria.243 According to the Suda she wrote a number of commentaries on the works of various mathematicians, including those of Diophantus, Apollonius of

Perge’s Conics and the Handy Tables of Ptolemy; however, none of these works has survived. As the daughter of the mathematician Theon, Hypatia is sometimes connected with his works, and it is thought that she provided the edition of Ptolemaeus’ Almagest

242 On the Martyrdom of St. Cyprian see G. R. Kastner, “Introduction to Eudokia’s Martyrdom of St. Cyprian,” in A Lost Tradition: Women Writers of the Early Church, 136-139. An English translation of selections of this poem is also available in I. M. Plant, Women Writers in Ancient Greece and Rome, 199-206. For her poem from Hammat Gader, see J. Green and Y. Tsafrir, “Greek Inscriptions from Hammat Gader: A Poem by the Empress Eudocia and Two Building Inscriptions,” Israel Exploration Journal 32:2-3 (1982), 77-96. 243 For a general introduction to Hypatia see M. Dzielska, Hypatia of Alexandria (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1995), and G. Beretta, Ipazia d'Alessandria (Rome: Editori Riuniti, 1993). For a somewhat earlier but still useful discussion about the date of her birth, and the suggestion that this was earlier than 370, see R. J. Penella, “When was Hypatia Born?” Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte 33:1 (1984), 126-128. For an exploration of what Hypatia’s studies actually were about, see M. A. B. Deakin, “Hypatia and her Mathematics,” The American Mathematical Monthly 10:3 (1994), 234-243.

85 used for her father’s commentary.244 Hypatia is most famous for her murder in 415 by a

Christian mob, which was recounted in disturbing detail 245 and which has made her a highly romanticized figure.246

About Demo II almost nothing is known. She is credited with writing an allegorical commentary on Homer, but this text and any details about Demo herself have not survived.247

There is also the possibility of a female writer named Eucheria from the sixth century. A poem has survived in which the author contrasts a number of unlikely pairings of objects, and concludes with the statement that all of these things set a precedent for a rusticus (which could refer to a ‘rustic’ or to a man named Rusticus) to seek the hand of

Eucheria.248 Speculation on who Eucheria might be has pointed to a certain Eucheria from an aristocratic family in Gaul, who was married to the provincial governor,

Dynamius, and who died in 605.249 There is, however, no way to determine if Eucheria wrote this poem or was merely the subject of it, and indeed, the latter seems more plausible, if, that is, the poem is actually about this particular Eucheria.

244 This possibility is touched on by P. Hadot, “Hypatia,” Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2011). 245 Isid. 43A–E. 246 Consider, for example, U. Molinaro, “A Christian Martyr in Reverse Hypatia: 370 - 415 A. D.: A Vivid Portrait of the Life and Death of Hypatia as Seen through the Eyes of a Feminist Poet and Novelist” Hypatia, 4:1(1989), 6-8. Molinaro retells the story of Hypatia’s death in sympathetic detail. 247 J. Cramer, Anecdota Graeca III, 189.19. 248 For the text of the poem see E. Raynard, Poetae Minores (Paris: Garnier Frères, 1939), 339. For an English translation of the poem see I. M. Plant, Women Writers in Ancient Greece and Rome, 210-211. 249 On this Eucheria and her family, see K. F. Stroheker, Der Senatorische Adel im Spätantiken Gallien (Darmstadt Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellchaft, 1970), 170.

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Therefore, the fifth-and sixth-century writers reflect similar patterns of opacity and lack of preservation that typify the larger corpus of Roman women writers. This is less true of Eudocia, in that as an elite Roman woman and a Christian her writings suggest a degree of continuity with those of the early Christian authors, and certainly it allows for Eudocia to be brought into discussions about those earlier women when appropriate. Ultimately, however, this later period serves to reinforce the unusual nature of the period before it, that age when Perpetua, Proba and Egeria were writing.

Conclusions

This overview of women writers results in a number of initial conclusions about the corpus of known female writers and their texts. On the one hand, this survey argues for both continuity and breadth during the Roman period. It provides evidence for female involvement in a range of literary fields: lyric poetry, epigrams, commentarii, history, philosophy, alchemy, letters, diaries, literary criticism, itineraria, elegiac poetry, cento, medical texts, mathematics, magic texts and even graffiti. For every extant example from one of these genres, we imagine the possibility of many more works and writers who were or could have been active, and it seems quite feasible to suggest that Roman women did, in fact, have a vibrant literary culture. On the other hand, the corpus is undeniably fragmented. In geographical terms, the majority of texts were composed/preserved in the eastern empire, in areas that had a tradition of women writers even before the area

Romanized. Alexandria, not surprisingly, was the home to almost all the philosophical and alchemical texts that have survived from the Roman period. However, it was already a center for female scientists and philosophers before the Roman period. Women such as

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Diophila,250 Histiaea,251 Perictione,252 and Ptolemais253 had already been active in the city. Egypt as a whole, in fact, appears as a region of heightened literary activity for women. Disregarding the papyrus finds, which disproportionately inflate the number of female-authored texts, Egypt is the source of Pamphila’s Historical Commentaries, the collection of inscriptions at the temple of Memnon, potentially the proposed history of

Zenobia of Palmyra, and most likely Metrodora’s medical text. In addition, the Byzantine authors Eudocia, Hypatia and Demo II were active in the east.

Despite this eastern prevalence, in terms of actual known writers or extant texts, it is the west that is dominant. Sulpicia and Sulpicia II were writing at Rome. Constantia’s inscribed poem to her husband is in Rome. Proba wrote at Rome. It is possible that women like Sempronia, Theophila and Perilla were writing poetry at Rome, and

Agrippina almost certainly composed her commentary while in the city. Egeria was of western origin and her work was preserved in the west, Perpetua was from North Africa and even the highly suspect poem of Eucheria has western provenance. If we disregard women and texts that have survived only as paraphrases or references in other works, or as inscriptions, and identify the actual extant literary texts, the list is brief, and predominantly from the Latin west. Sulpicia, Perpetua, Proba, Egeria, and Eucheria all have surviving literary works. In comparison, extant Greek texts include those of

Melinno, Metrodora, and Eudocia.

250 Schol. on Callimachus frag. 10. 251 Str. 13.599. 252 I. M. Plant, Women Writers in Ancient Greece and Rome, 247 253 Ibid., 87.

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The preservation patterns of the corpus are therefore intriguing. Without disregarding random chance, which was surely particularly damaging in terms of epistolary and epigraphic sources, the bulk of extant texts are both late and Latin, in spite of the fact that the bulk of the known sources are from Republican and early Imperial

Rome, and in both Greek and Latin. This makes the early Christian texts particularly fascinating. While they can be viewed as the final period of women writers in an extensive Roman tradition, they also appear as significantly atypical to the majority of the corpus. Possible reasons for this pattern of preservation will be discussed in the following chapter.

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CHAPTER TWO: GENDER, GENRE AND LIMINALITY IN LATIN

LITERATURE

The female-authored texts that come from the period of what has been termed early or ancient Christianity254 form an intriguing group. They contrast to the majority of known sources in that they are western-based and composed in Latin. Chronologically they occur later than the majority of sources, and they are unusual in their length and degree of preservation. The nature of the texts themselves is equally interesting and this will be the focus of this chapter. Before moving on to discuss the authors and texts in terms of historical and religious trends, it is important to recognize that these works possess a great deal of ambiguity in terms of authorship and genre, and also to note the possible influence that this ambiguity might have had on the generally positive reception of these works. Three points will be of major focus in this chapter: firstly, the tendency for the texts to play on conventions of genre. Perpetua’s, Proba’s and Egeria’s works demonstrate the emergence of new forms of Christian literature wherein multiple literary genres are recombined for new purposes. The resulting texts, therefore carry a degree of ambiguity in their genre, an ambiguity that is amplified by the fact that the three texts are the earliest examples of their respective Christian genres. Secondly, the texts use a variety of techniques to blur authorial gender. Each text incorporates some degree of

254 Early or Ancient Christianity, as discussed in the Introduction, refers to the period prior to Theodosius’ death. For additional discussion on this period see R. Markus, The End of Ancient Christianity, 21-44; R. MacMullen, Christianizing the Roman Empire, 74-85; P. Brown, “Aspects of the christianitisation of the Roman aristocracy,” 1-11. A distinction should be noted between the broad period of Late Antiquity which includes other female authors not discussed in this chapter, and the early Christian period, which is the focus here.

90 masculine voice in conjunction with the female authorial voice. This gender ambiguity is potentially a means of both mediating the female authorial voice and also supporting female authorial voice. Thirdly, there is a notable intertextuality between female authorial voice in the texts, what might be termed ‘historical’ female voice, and literary female voice. That is to say, the texts often demonstrate and employ language similar to what women use when they are created characters and not actual authors. This too results in a degree of ambiguity within the texts, as the fictional/historical division is less than clear.

Each of these points will be discussed at length below, as well as the possible correlations between the resulting ambiguity in the texts and the positive reception these texts received.

Genre

Perpetua’s, Proba’s, and Egeria’s texts each represent an early effort in a newly developing Christian genre, at a moment when a genre was being re-appropriated with

Christian meaning and intent. In this process, each text incorporates the recombination of pre-Christian genres, which, so it appears, serves to break genre conventions and imbue the texts with the potential for multiple interpretations of form.255 Audience awareness of

255 At this point it seems useful to offer a few comments on the terminology dealing with Roman literary genres. While modern treatments of Latin literature are prone to emphasize the intertextuality of ancient genres and the lack of set forms, Roman sources, as will be discussed below, offered a genre theory that was based on strictures and guidelines for each genre. As Roman women writers functioned within a context of these genre ideals it is perhaps more informative to approach ideas of genre using the ancient models rather than the modern. In this way, the impact of their use and manipulation of genre is better understood. For an overview of genre theory, see B. Huss, “Genre,” Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2011). An excellent example of current interest in intertextuality is C. A. Evans and H. D. Zacharias (eds), Early Christian Literature and Intertextuality (London: T & T Clark, 2009). The fact that the majority of the sources on genre come from late Republican and early Imperial

91 the rules of form is well documented by Roman writers, and a positive reception depended on appropriate use of genre. It is significant that the genres that women were writing in appear to have received different degrees of attention in Roman grammatical works. Poetic forms are by far the most tightly categorized.256 Horace makes it clear that poetic forms must be kept intact by writers, if they have any chance of being considered good poets. He comments of himself,

Why hail me poet, if I fail to seize The shades of style, its fixed proprieties?257

In his Ars Poetica, he defines both the theme and the style that ought to be used with each poetic form, and who the exemplary authors for each form are. From this we gather that heroic topics should be written as they are in Homer, drama should use the iambic of

writers should also be addressed. Theories of genre remained relatively static between the late Republic and Late Antiquity. The impact of Horace’s Ars Poetica and Quintillian’s Institutio Oratio was significant well beyond the period in which they were writing, and, in fact, they maintained their influence even into the Middle Ages. For an example of how the Ars Poetica was used by medieval writers, see O. B. Hardison and L. Golden, Horace for Students of Literature (Gainsville: University of Florida Press, 1995), esp. xiv-xviii. On Quintilian’s lasting influence, see J. J. Murphy, Rhetoric in the Middle Ages: A History of Rhetorical Theory from Saint Augustine to the Renaissance (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1974), 123-130. On Quintilian’s continued authority into the Christian era, see R. Vainio, “Use and Function of Grammatical Examples in Roman Grammarians,” Mnemosyne, 53:1 (2000), 31-32, and J. E. G. Zetzel, Latin Textual Criticism in Antiquity (New York: Arno Press, 1981), 27-30. 256 Treatment of poetic forms appears in almost every Roman grammatical treatise. See S. Averintsev, R. Pevear and L. Volkhonsky, “Genre as Abstraction and Genres as Reality: The Dialectics of Closure and Openness,” Arion, Third Series, 9:1 (2001), 13-43, especially 31. 257 Horace, Ars Poetica, 86-87, (trans. J. Conington, The Satires, Epistles, and Art of Poetry of Horace (London, 1984), 174-175): “Discriptas seruare uices operumque colores/ cur ego, si nequeo ignoroque, poeta salutor?” For a detailed treatment of Horace’s facility with poetic genre, see. I. A. Ruffell, “Horace, Popular Invective and the Segregation of Literature,” The Journal of Roman Studies, 93 (2003), 33-65. On Horace’s attempts to firmly segregate literature, see especially p. 41. For an introduction to the Ars Poetica, Horace, and a bibliography on the poet, see B. Kytzler, “Horace [7],” Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2011). For a detailed discussion of Horace’s writings about poetry, the standard reference work is still C. O. Brink, Horace on Poetry (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1971). For a contrasting view that dismisses any sort of ancient genre theory, see T. G. Rosenmeyer, “Ancient Literary Genres: A Mirage?” Yearbook of Comparative and General Literature 34 (1985), 82.

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Archilochus, and lyric should be used for passionate topics.258 Horace is also adamant that mixing tragic and comic forms results in the diminishing of both.259 Horace makes it clear what happens when poets misuse forms, or when they attempt to have poetic figures speak in a manner inappropriate to the form. According to him, failure to follow the correct set of conventions will result in mockery and disrespect of the author. 260

Only in one poetic genre does Horace admit to less clearly defined rules of form, that of elegy.261 Horace says that elegiac poetry began as a means of complaint

(querimonia), and then became a medium for declaring love, but that who the first author

258 Horace, Ars Poetica, 73-85 (trans. C. Smart and T. A. Buckley, The Works of Horace (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1863)): “Homer has instructed us in what measure the achievements of kings, and chiefs, and direful war might be written. Plaintive strains originally were appropriated to the unequal numbers [of the elegiac]: afterward [love and] successful desires were included. Yet what author first published humble elegies, the critics dispute, and the controversy still waits the determination of a judge. Rage armed Archilochus with the iambic of his own invention. The sock and the majestic buskin assumed this measure as adapted for dialogue, and to silence the noise of the populace, and calculated for action. To celebrate gods, and the sons of gods, and the victorious wrestler, and the steed foremost in the race, and the inclination of youths, and the free joys of wine, the muse has allotted to the lyre.” (Res gestae regumque ducumque et tristia bella/ quo scribi possent numero, monstrauit Homerus./ Versibus impariter iunctis querimonia primum,/ post etiam inclusa est uoti sententia compos;/ quis tamen exiguos elegos emiserit auctor, grammatici/ certant et adhuc sub iudice lis est./ Archilochum proprio rabies armauit iambo;/ hunc socci cepere pedem grandesque coturni,/ alternis aptum sermonibus et popularis/ uincentem strepitus et natum rebus agendis./ Musa dedit fidibus diuos puerosque deorum/ et pugilem uictorem et equom certamine primum/ et iuuenum curas et libera uina referre). 259 Horace, Ars Poetica, 89-91 (trans. C. Smart and T. A. Buckley): “A comic subject will not be handled in tragic verse: in like manner the banquet of Thyestes will not bear to be held in familiar verses, and such as almost suit the sock. Let each peculiar species [of writing] fill with decorum its proper place” (Versibus exponi tragicis res comica non uult;/ indignatur item priuatis ac prope socco/ dignis carminibus narrari cena Thyestae./ Singula quaeque locum teneant sortita decentem). 260 Horace, Ars Poetica, 112-113 (trans. C. Smart and T. A. Buckley): “If the words be discordant to the station of the speaker, the Roman knights and plebians will raise an immoderate laugh” (Si dicentis erunt fortunis absona dicta,/ Romani tollent peditesque cachinnum). 261 Horace, Ars Poetica, 77-78 (trans. J. Conington, The Satires, Epistles, and Art of Poetry of Horace, 174-175): “Complaint was once the Elegiac's theme;/ From thence 'twas used to sing of love's young dream:/ But who that dainty measure first put out,/ Grammarians differ, and 'tis still in doubt” (quis tamen exiguos elegos emiserit auctor,/ grammatici certant et adhuc sub iudice lis est).

93 was, and, hence, what ought to be emulated in the form, is still debated by grammarians.

Considering the existence of Sulpicia, this understanding of the elegiac form is perhaps informative. That is to say, it is interesting that Sulpicia, whose poems survive, wrote in elegiac, a form that Horace suggests had many competiting definitions (grammatici certant).262 Other writers are equally firm on the existence of set poetic forms. Cicero sees poetry as firmly divided into distinct categories. He notes,

…Of poets there are a great many divisions; for of tragic, comic, epic, lyric, and also of dithyrambic poetry, which has been more cultivated by the , each kind is very different from the rest. Therefore in tragedy anything comic is a defect, and in comedy anything tragic is out of place. And in the other kinds of poetry each has its own appropriate note, and a tone well known to those who understand the subject.263

Like Horace, Cicero considers appropriate use of a genre vital in engendering a positive response from the audience. Also like Horace, he considers these genre conventions to be well understood amongst the literate classes of Roman society.

Interestingly, however, Cicero does not recognize the same level of definition outside of the poetic genres. His discussion of the poetic forms takes place within the larger context of a treatise on oratory, and on the importance of not holding orators to the strict

262 This also suggests that even prior to Christianity, genres that were themselves somewhat ambiguous resulted in a better reception for female authors. 263 Cicero, De Optimo Genere Oratorum, 1.1 (trans. C. D. Yonge): Oratorum genera esse dicuntur tamquam poetarum; id secus est, nam alterum est multiplex. Poematis enim tragici, comici, epici, melici, etiam ac dithyrambici, quod magis est tractatum a Graecis quam a Latinis, suum cuiusque est, diversum a reliquis. Itaque et in tragoedia comicum vitiosum est et in comoedia turpe tragicum; et in ceteris suus est cuique certus sonus et quaedam intellegentibus nota vox. On this passage see also L. Edmunds, Intertextuality and the Reading of Roman Poetry (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2001), 148-150.

94 classification that is seen within the poets.264 The extent to which this attitude towards oratory was held in Rome at large is a topic of debate. Quintilian speaks against Cicero’s lack of firm division and argues for three distinct categories of oratory.265 Yet, in the process he notes that Cicero’s interpretation has been “thrust down our throats by the greatest authority of our own times.”266 Unfortunately, Quintilian does not elaborate on who this might be. Ultimately, the presence of an ancient debate over how to define oratory serves the same purpose as Cicero’s text does by itself. It demonstrates that the genre of oratory was not as clearly defined as many of the poetic forms. This makes it possible to speculate what implications this had for female participation in texts that contain an aspect of oratory, especially when viewed in conjunction with Sulpicia and

Horace’s comments on elegiac form. It seems possible that audience reception of their works was occasionally bolstered by composition within forms that were already somewhat more flexible in form.267

Works that define the conventions of other types of literature are far less prevalent in the record. Quintilian makes some mention of history and philosophy, but his interest is in what an orator should read out of these genres, rather than any study of the genres

264 Cicero, De Optimo Genere Oratorum, 1.1. 265 Quintilian, Inst. Orat. 3.4.2 (trans. Loeb):…et nunc maximo temporum nostrorum auctore prope inpulsum… 266 Quintilian, Inst. Orat. 3.4.2. Butler, in his edition of the text, suggests that this great authority might be Pliny the Elder, but provides no reasoning for this. H. E. Butler, Institutio Oratio (Loeb Classical Library), 391, n.18. 267 The potential for the manipulation of genre conventions is thoroughly treated in two articles by J. Derrida: “The Law of Genre,” Glyph 7 (1980), 176-232, and “Living on/Border Lines,” trans. J. Hulbert, in Deconstruction and Criticism, ed. H. Bloom et al. (New York: Seabury Press, 1979), 75-176. On the theory behind the development of new genres and how it requires both a corpus and audience recognition, see also T. Todorov, “The Origins of Genres,” 199-202, and A. Fowler, “Transformations of Genre,” 241-244, both in Modern Genre Theory, ed. D. Duff (London: Pearson Education Limited, 2000). H. R. Jauss, “Literary History as a Challenge to Literary Theory,” 9, draws a similar conclusion on the importance of audience expecations for form, what he calls “literary data,” determining their response to a particular work.

95 themselves.268 Hence, he provides only the barest outlines of what these genres are. This is a trend that continues in other writers, wherein prose genres are referenced by type, but the purpose is almost always to create a reading list for a student.269 The fourth-century grammarian Diomedes, for example, devotes an entire book to the rules and conventions of the major poetic forms, but offers no such treatise on prose genres.270 Clearly, then, those writing in what might be termed ‘fringe’ genres were already working in an area that was far less open to hostile criticism by the casual reader. It is hardly surprising, from this point of view, that the extant texts of the women writers manifest themselves in genres that fall on the edges of the Latin literary canon.

It is at this point that we should return to the idea of ambiguity that was introduced at the beginning of this chapter. Having outlined the importance that Roman grammarians placed on certain literary forms (epic, lyric, tragedy, comedy, history), and the necessity for authors to maintain an appropriate voice for the form chosen, it is significant that neither Perpetua, nor Proba, nor Egeria wrote in genres that were of much interest to Latin grammarians and possibly, by extension, to a Roman audience. It is equally significant that the genre(s) of their texts are somewhat unclear. Since their texts

268 Quintilian, Inst. Orat. Book 9. 269 Consider, for example, the mid-fourth-century grammarian Donatus, whose Ars Grammatica was widely used as a textbook on grammar in the Middle Ages. See P. Gatti, “Donatus [3],” Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2011). For additional discussion on Donatus, the influence of his work, and a critical edition of his text, see L. Holtz, Donatus et la Tradition de l'Enseignement Grammatical (Centre national de la recherche scientifique, 1981), 585-674 270 Diomedes divided his work the Ars Grammatica into three books: the first on the parts of speech, the second on grammar and the third (De Poematis) on poetry. For a general introduction to Diomedes, see P. Gatti, “Diomedes [4],” Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2011). For a discussion of how the grammatical rules of Cicero, Quintilian and Diomedes formed a continuous framework for the Roman world, see C. Atherton, “Children, Animals, Slaves and Grammar,” Pedagogy and Power: Rhetorics of Classical Learning, ed. Y. L. Too and N. Livingstone (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 214-244.

96 appear as early examples of various Christian genres, defining the form that they were using is rarely straightforward.

Perpetua’s work, for example, defies simple classification. Indeed, identifying the genre of the work is something of a challenge in itself. Perpetua’s work has been described as a diary, a memoir, a vita, an exemplum, and also as a passio.271 In some ways it may be best viewed as a re-combination of all of these genres into a new and, at its inception, indeterminate genre. The ‘diary’ aspects of the text, most prominent in the section by Perpetua, and identifiable to a lesser extent in Saturus’ section, function equally as a type of prophetic writing, one that is imbued with a Christian rhetoric that serves to make a personal experience meaningful to a broad Christian audience.272 The text as a whole can be viewed as a vita or an exemplum, and indeed the editor makes it clear that this is his (or her) intent.273 However, this text is unusual compared to the

271 The question of what to call Perpetua’s work has resulted in numerous definitions. Often the interest of the scholar has determined the definition of the text. For example, those interested in Perpetua as a historical figure often concentrate on the section presumably written by her and identify it as a diary. Hemelrijk, while discussing Perpetua’s education identifies her work as a ‘prison-diary’ in Matrona Docta: Educated Women in the Roman elite from Cornelia to Julia Domna, 29. Dronke, who focuses only on the portion of the text thought to be written by Perpetua calls her work a diary, in Women Writers of the Middle Ages: A Critical Study of Texts from Perpetua to Marguerite Porete, 1. Shaw and also Bremmer, both of whom deal specifically with the section of text credited to her, describe her work as a diary. See Brent D. Shaw, “The Passion of Perpetua,” Past & Present 139 (1993), 24, and J. N. Bremmer, “Perpetua and her Diary: Authenticity, Family and Visions,” 77. In contrast, scholars who are looking at the text as a whole are much more likely to identify the text as a passio. Ronsse, for example, who is arguing for continuity in the text consistently refers to the text as merely the Passion, in “Rhetoric of Martyrs: Listening to Saints Perpetua and Felicitas,” 289. Similar terminology appears in studies on the use of the text in antiquity. See, for example, K. B. Steinhauser, "Augustine's Reading of the Passio sanctarum Perpetuae et Felicita," Studia Patristica 33 (1997), 244. 272 This feature of the text is treated at length in Chapter Five, 257-262. 273 Passio S. Perpetuae, 1.1 (trans. W. H. Shewring): “If ancient examples of faith both testifying the grace of God and working for the edification of man have on this account been set down in writing, so that reading them is like showing of the deeds again, and God may be honored and man comforted; why should not new examples also be so set down which show either cause?” (Si uetera fidei exempla et Dei gratiam testificantia et aedificationem hominis operantia propterea in

97 majority of the corpus of martyrdom tales. The inclusion of Perpetua’s own words is unmatched in the other extant works from the period. After Perpetua, there were numerous vitae of female martyrs but these did not incorporate the writings of the women themselves. The texts may include conversational fragments, or the retelling of what a martyr said, but they do not have the autobiographical aspect found in the text of

Perpetua.274 This anomaly may perhaps be explained by the fact that this genre was in its infancy in the third century, when Perpetua made her contribution. The majority of the tales of martyrdom were composed after Perpetua. There are only five extant martyr accounts which are accepted as legitimate that were composed before Perpetua’s work.275

In terms of style or genre they do not form a unifying group. The Martyrdom of Polycarp and the Martyrdoms of are in the form of letters. The Martyrdom of Polycarp is a letter that details the death of Polycarp at in 156 or 157.276 It was sent to a church in Philomelium, which had sent a request to the Christian community at Smyrna for information on recent events. Likewise, the Martyrdoms of Lugdunum, included by

litteris sunt digesta ut lectione eorum quasi repraesentatione rerum et Deus honoretur et homo confortetur, cur non et noua documenta aeque utrique causae conuenientia et digerantur?) 274 Consider, for example, the vita of Febronia, who was martyred under Diocletian (c.284-305). The translated vita of Febronia is available in S. P. Brock and S. Ashbrook Harvey, Holy Women of the Syrian Orient (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998), 150-176. 275 For a full argument on the early martyrdom works and their legitimacy, see T. D. Barnes, “Pre-Decian Acta Martyrum,” Journal of Theological Studies, n. s., 19:2 (1960), 509-531. 276 The dating of these texts comes from T. D. Barnes, “Pre-Decian Acta Martyrum,” 510-511. For the text of the Martyrdom of Polycarp, see most recently The Apostolic Fathers: Greek texts and English translations, ed. and trans. M. W. Holmes, 3rd ed. (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2007), 298-333. See also The Didache, the Epistle of Barnabas, the Epistles and the Martyrdom of St. Polycarp, the Fragments of Pappias, the Epistle to Diognetus, trans. J. A. Kleist (Westminster: Newman Press, 1948), 69-82, and also W. R. Schoedel, The Apostolic Fathers. New Translation and Commentary, V: Polycarp, Martyrdom of Polycarp, Fragments of Papias (New York: Nelson, 1967). For further discussion on Polycarp and the martyrdom text, see B. Dehandschutter, "The Martyrium Polycarpi; A Century of Research," Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt 27:1 (1993), 485-522, and more recently, L. L. Thompson, “The Martyrdom of Polycarp: Death in the Roman Games,” Journal of Roman Studies 82:1 (2002), 27-52.

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Eusebius in his Historia Ecclesiastica (iv. 16.7-9), is a letter written by Christians in

Vienne and/or Lugdunum detailing the recent persecutions there, most likely in 177.277

The Martyrdom of Ptolemaeus and Lucius was written by Justin, a contemporary and spectator at Ptolemaeus’ trial in the early 150’s. It is a narrative account of the trial of both men and their conviction, written from the perspective of Justin himself.278 Lastly, the Acts of Justin and the Acts of the Scillitan Martyrs are, in fact, records from court trials.279 Justin was martyred c.165, the Scillitan Martyrs in 180. As a corpus, therefore, early martyrdom literature is extremely diverse and lacks any definite form or set of requirements. Perpetua’s text, in comparison to comparable contemporary texts, appears less unusual than on its own or against later works. Like the other early works, Perpetua’s text is reusing and re-defining pre-Christian genres for the creation of a specifically

Christian type of work. As with other works, the integration of “autobiography” and martyrology within her work defies the classification of the text into one genre or the other. Rather, it suggests that we are witnessing a new and entirely Christian form of literature, a genre that will be refined and defined in the centuries following Perpetua’s text.

277 On the Martyrdoms of Lugdunum and Eusebius’ validity as a source, see P. Keresztes, “The Massacre at Lugdunum in 177 A.D.” Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte 16:1 (1967), 75-86. 278 Justin Martyr, Apol. ii. 2. On this text see also C. R. Moss, Ancient Christian Martyrdom: Diverse Practices, Theologies, and Traditions (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2012), 86-89, and E. A. Castelli, Martyrdom and Memory: Early Christian Culture Making (New York: Columbia University Press, 2004), 43-44. 279 T. D. Barnes, “Pre-Decian Acta Martyrum,” 515-517, 519-520. Recent treatments of the text and of St. Justin include L. W. Barnard, St. Justin Martyr: The First and Second Apologies (Paulist Press , 1996), esp. 73-86. On Justin’s own death, which forms the Acts of Justin, see also G. A. Bisbee, “The Acts of Justin Martyr. A Form-Critical Study,” Second Century 3 (1983), 129-157. On the Acts of the Scillitan Martyrs Barnes’ treatment in “Pre-Decian Acta Martyrum,” remains the best. For the text, see J.A, Robinson, Acts of the Scillitan Martyrs, in Ante-Nicene Fathers, ed. A. Roberts and J. Donaldson, (repr. Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1955), X, 290-291.

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Also like the work of Perpetua, Proba’s text suggests a similar redefinition or redirection of genre. The infusion of Christian ideas into an already fluid genre created a new literary medium. There are sixteen extant Latin centos. Of these, twelve have been preserved in the Codex Salmasianus, which has been dated to 534.280 The provenance of these centos is obscure. Authors are identified in only a few instances. Hosidius Geta is listed as the author of a Medea cento (c. AD 200). The name Mavortius is credited with both the mythological Iudicium Paridis and the Christian De Ecclesia, and Luxorius is given as the author of the Epithalamium Fridi.281 The other centos within the codex are anonymous.282 Aside from the Medea cento, where Tertullian’s reference to it283 provides a terminus ante quem (206), dates for the works can only be based on the construction of the codex.284 Following Proba’s cento, two other Christian centos were composed,

Pomponian’s Versus ad Gratiam Domini, and the anonymous De Verbi Incarnatione,

280 S. McGill, “Tragic Vergil: Rewriting Vergil as Tragedy in the Cento ‘Medea’,” The Classical World 95:2 (2002), 144. 281 Codex Salmasianus (Anth. Lat. 17, 18 R). 282 These are the: Alcesta, Progne et Philomela, Narcissus, Herucles et Antaeus, Hippodamia, Europa, De Panificio and De Alea. 283 Tertullian, De Praescriptione Haereticorum, 39.3-4. Possible dates for this text range from 198-206. T. D. Barnes, Tertullian: A Historical and Literary Study (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1985), 55, suggests a date between 198-203. C. Moreschini, Opere scelte di Quinto Settimo Florente Tertulliano, Classici delle Religioni, sezione quarta (Turin: Unione Tipografico-Editrice Torinese, 1974), 31, dates it to 206. J. Fredouille, Tertullien et la conversion de la culture antique. Collection d’Études Augustiniennes Antiquité 47 (Paris: Études Augustiniennes, 1972), 487-488, dates it between 198-206. D. Schleyer, Tertullian. Vom prinzipiellen Einspruch gegen die Häeretiker, Fontes Christiani 42 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2002), 10, dates it between 200-206. Additional discussion on the Medea cento and its inclusion in the Codex Salmasianus can be found in R. Lamacchia, ed., Hosidius Geta: Medea (Leipzig 1981), v, and also in F. Desbordes, Argonautica: Trois Études sur l'Imitation dans la Littérature Antique (Brussels 1979) 83-84. 284 The dating of these centos is extremely problematic due to the lack of information about them. D. R. Shackleton Bailey (ed), Anthologia Latina (Leipzig 1982), actually leaves them out of his version of the Codex Salmasianus altogether.

100 both most likely within the fourth century.285 The final extant cento is Ausonius’ Cento

Nuptialis, written for the celebration of Gratian’s wedding in 374. Ausonius (c. 310-394) also provides the only ancient discussion on the mechanics of the form, which he includes in a letter about his cento.286 Proba’s position on this list is therefore potentially significant: in comparison to those centos with approximate dates, Proba’s work is early, since only the Medea cento definitively pre-dates her.287 In terms of subject matter

Proba’s cento is the first known example of the Christian cento, making her work a change in topical focus.288 In addition, Proba was writing well before Ausonius thought to set out the guidelines for the genre, and, perhaps significantly, later writers used both

Proba’s and Ausonius’ centos as the model for the genre as a whole and seem to have considered both texts the original sources of the genre (disregarding the Medea cento).289

285 A late fourth-century date is suggested by K. Schenkl, Cento Vergilianus de laudibus Christi: Poetae Christiani Minores, I. Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum 16 (1888), 561. 286 R. P.H. Green, The Works of Ausonius (Cambridge 1991), 132-139. For a summary of these rules, see also S. McGill, “Tragic Vergil: Rewriting Vergil as Tragedy in the Cento ‘Medea’,” 143. 287 It should be noted that there are at least two potentially earlier Christian writers whose work seems to contain elements of cento. Minucius Felix (c. third century) and Juvencus (early fourth centur). On Minucius see Minucius Felix, Oct. 19.2 where he uses several lines from the Aeneid and Georgics to discuss the nature of God. For the text and discussion, see C. O. Sandnes, The Gospel “According to Homer and Virgil”: Cento and Canon, 125-127. On Juvencus see C. O. Sandnes, The Gospel “According to Homer and Virgil”: Cento and Canon, 50-58. Juvencus wrote a hexameter version of the New Testament but he did not use lines from Virgil. 288 For a highly theoretical treatment of the development of the Christian cento, see M. Bazil, Centones Christiani: Métamorphoses d’une forme intertextuelle dans la poésie latine chrétienne de l’Antiquité tardive (Paris: Institut d’Études Augustiniennes, 2009). Bazil sees Proba as the model source for the Christian cento; see p. 246-247. For Latin later hexameter versions of the New Testament, albeit not centos, see Sedulius’ Carmen Paschale (fifth century), and Arator’s paraphrasis of the Book of Acts (sixth century). On these texts see R. P. H. Green, Latin Epics of the New Testament. Juvencus, Sedulius, Arator (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006). 289 Ausonius’ rules for cento are laid out in a letter to Axius Paulus. See S. McGill, “Tragic Vergil: Rewriting Vergil as Tragedy in the Cento ‘Medea’,” 143: “Ausonius notes that a cento contains discrete Vergilian verses which are reconnected to form a new coherent poem: variis de locis sensibusque diversis quaedam carminis structura solidatur, (‘out of different passages and different meanings a certain structure of a poem is built,’ praef. Cent. Nupt. 24-25). Ausonius also states that a centonist can divide a Vergilian line at any of the caesurae of a dactylic hexameter

101

For example, in describing what cento is ( “a collection of pieces of verse”), Julius

Caesar Scaliger (1484-1558) concludes that this style of writing is best known through the ingenious works of Ausonius and the Christian poet Proba.290

Proba’s status as a well-known poet of cento is somewhat unusual because female participation within Roman poetic forms appears to have been highly circumscribed for the most part. As outlined in chapter one, known female poets are scarce and other than

Sulpicia’s extant elegiac poems of the first century BC, evidence for female involvement is slim.291 References can be found for women writing poems, but they are often vague.

Sallust’s mention of Sempronia’s poetic endeavours or Seneca the Elder’s inclusion of one verse of an unnamed vestal virgin in his Controversiae, or Jerome’s note on the otherwise unknown Cornificia add little significant information to the corpus of women writers.292 Similarly, Ovid, in Tristia 3.7, addresses Perilla, a young poet, and encourages her to continue in her work. What kind of poetry she is writing is unclear. Ovid offers two descriptions of her poems. In the first, he identifies them as “learned work, although

(diffinduntur autem per caesuras omnes, quas recipit versus heroicus, ‘moreover, they are divided at all the caesurae, which dactylic verse allows,’ 28-29) and proceeds to delineate the different metrical segments that can result (29-32). Performing such strange surgery on Vergil produces a text that Ausonius describes succinctly to Paulus: accipe igitur opusculum de inconexis continuum, de diversis unum . . . de alieno nostrum (‘accept, therefore, a little work continuous from unconnected verses, one from many verses . . . mine from another,’ 20-21). For a general introduction to Ausonius, see W. Liebermann, “Ausonius, Decius Magnus,” Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2012). 290 Scaliger, Poetices Libri Septem, ed. August Buck (Stuttagart-Bad Cannstatt: Frommann, 1964), 47: Tale apud Ausonium poema valde ingeniosum et lepidum, ex frustis Virgilianis coagmentatum. Tale etiam Probae poetriae Christianae: cui ab opere Centone cognomen factum est. 291 For an introduction to Sulpicia, see J.R. Bradley, "The Elegies of Sulpicia: An Introduction and Commentary," New England Classical Journal 22 (1995), 159-164; H. Currie, "The Poems of Sulpicia," Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt 30.3 (l983) 1751-1764; C. Davies, "Poetry in the 'Circle' of Messalla," 25-35; N. J. Lowe, “Sulpicia’s Syntax,” The Classical Quarterly N. S. 38:1 (1988), 193-205. 292 Sallust, The War with Catiline, 25.5. Seneca the Elder, Controversiae, 6.8. Jerome, Chronicon, 42 BC (184th Olympiad).

102 not in your father’s style.”293 In the second, he praises Perilla’s poetry by telling her that

“only the Lesbian poet [Sappho] will outshine your work.”294 Neither of these comments can do more than hint at what she was writing. Ovid’s allusions to Sappho may be drawing a connection to lyric poetry, but could equally be a comment on pure talent.

Likewise, the father’s style he refers to could be a biological father, or, more likely, Ovid himself, and presents little concrete evidence as to Perilla’s genre(s) of interest.295 Even the works of Sulpicia II and Eucheria are problematic, the former due to the survival of only two lines of an epigram, the latter due to the question of authorial authenticity.296

Leaving aside Proba, this is the sum total of Latin literary poetry by women. While we might suppose, with some confidence, that many more women were writing poetry than have appeared in the sources, the publication of Latin poetry by Roman women is seriously lacking. In addition, the available material points to a focus on elegiac and satirical forms. As a point of contrast, the corpus of women poets from the Greek world far surpasses that of the Roman.297 Poems and fragments of more than ten female lyric poets have survived, and twice that many are identified within other sources.298 Greek

293 Ovid, Tristia, 3.7.12: doctaque non patrio carmina more canis. 294 Ibid., 3.7.20: sola tuum uates Lesbia uincet opus. 295 On Perilla see E. A. Hemelrijk, Matrona Docta: Educated Women in the Roman elite from Cornelia to Julia Domna, 149-151. It has been suggested that Perilla was Ovid’s stepdaughter Nerulla. Such a connection would certainly explain Ovid’s reference to the poetic talents of her ‘father’. See M. Raepsaet-Charlier, Prospographie des Femmes de l’Ordre Sénatorial (Louvian: Peeters, 1986), 860. For more on Ovid’s creation of “female” voices, see J. P. Hallett, "The Role of Women in Roman Elegy: Counter-Cultural Feminism," 241-262; P.A. Rosenmeyer, "Ovid's Heroides and Tristia: Voices from Exile," Ramus 26 no. 1 (1997), 29-56. 296 Eucheria was writing c. AD 600 and has one extant poem, but identification of the author is extremely problematic because the poem is, in fact, also about Eucheria and the lack of propriety in a poor man asking to marry her. See Chapter One, 85. 297 See I. M. Plant, Women Writers in Ancient Greece and Rome, 243-249, for a full survey. 298 Major writers include: Anyte, Corinna, Erinna, Nossis, and Sappho. Cleobulina, Dionysia, Eurydice, Melinno, Praxilla and Telesilla also have surviving lyric work. For a list of other lyric

103 women also appear as the authors of elegiac poetry (Hedyle), and various erotic verses

(Alcinoe). Proba’s work appears then as doubly odd. As a Latin poetic text written by a women it is a rarity, and as a cento, it does not fall within the parameters of form that other women seem to have been writing in.

Proba’s cento also demonstrates an unusual degree of female involvement within the genre of epic. There is no other known Roman female author of an epic poem. Epic poetry is often seen as an exclusively masculine form. Even within the Greek writers there is very little evidence to suggest female participation in this genre. A Lamian inscription from the third century BC mentions the poet Aristodama, an epic poetess who performed in the city.299 Moero/Myro, c.300 BC, is mentioned in the Suda as writing epic poetry, among other forms. A fragment of one of her epic poems, Memory, has survived.300 A third woman, Phantasia, is identified as an epic poet of the eighth century

BC by Ptolemaeus Chennus.301 Therefore, Proba’s use of the epic form seems unprecedented within the Latin corpus. While epic is prone to incorporating female figures within the text, the literary creation of a female voice by a male author does not appear to have legitimized composition by a genuinely female author. Keith has eloquently demonstrated that Roman epic poetry served to reinforce and perpetuate elite

writers whose work has not survived see I. M. Plant, Women Writers in Ancient Greece and Rome, 243-249. 299 IG IX.2.62. 300 For a translation, see I. M. Plant, Women Writers in Ancient Greece and Rome, 62. 301 Photius, Bibliotheca, Codices 190.151 a-b (PG 103.123) (trans. R. Pearse): “Phantasia, a woman of Memphis, daughter of Nicarchus, composed before Homer a tale of the Trojan War and of the adventures of Odysseus. The books were deposited, it is said, at Memphis; Homer went there and obtained copies from Phanites, the temple scribe, and he composed under their inspiration” (Ὅτι Φαντασία τις Μεµφῖτις Νικάρχου θυγάτηρ συνέταξε πρὸ Ὀµήρου τὸν Ἰλιακὸν πόλεµον καὶ τὴν περὶ Ὀδυσσεόας διήγνσιν· καὶ ἀποκεῖσθαί φασι τὰς βίβλους ἐν Μέµφιδι. Ὅµηρον δὲ παραγενόµενον, καὶ τὰ ἀντίγραφα λαβόντα παρὰ Φανίτου τοῦ ἱερογραµµατέως, συντάξαι ἐκείνοις ἀκολούθως).

104 masculine identity, to the point that women were totally excluded as active participants in the genre.302 Keith notes that women appear in epic almost solely to support a masculine intent, either through feminizing a topography the men will act upon (usually through the burial of a female figure but also in the sense that the earth often is cast as a female), or through proving a catalyst for war or conflict between men by their wrong behavior or their death.303 Even the creation of a fictional female voice, as exemplified in the

Heroides, is far less present in epic. Cento, however, must have distorted convention enough that epic became an appropriable form for Proba. Her use of Vergil not only imbued her work with his masculine voice, but also with the original epic genre of the

Aeneid. In other words, because Proba’s source material was largely epic, it enabled and even demanded that when she recast the material it retain its epic form.304

Egeria is equally a creator of a new type of literature. While her work can be approached as an itinerarium, like the other authors her text is in a transitional genre, in this instance peregrinatio.305 As a genre, itinerarium developed out of Imperial bureaucratic practices. As the empire expanded, new territory had to be mapped and new roads built.306 The resulting surveys were used for administrative and military purposes.

302 A. Keith, Engendering Rome: Women in Latin Epic, 35. 303 Ibid., 63-63, 84-100, 102. 304 In this light, the nature of Proba’s earlier work is intriguing. The subject matter she alludes to seems to in fact be that of epic, i.e. war and glory on the battlefield, but unfortunately no other details are revealed to suggest whether Proba did in fact write a secular epic poem. Proba’s participation in masculine literary fields is noted in passing by S. Ashbrook Harvey, “Women and Words: Texts By and About Women,” in The Cambridge History of Early Christian Literature (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 382-383. 305 While both genres fall into the general corpus of ‘travel literature’, peregrinatio contains a Christian element (pilgrimage) that itinerarium does not. This distinction is discussed below 101- 102. See also C. Walde, “Travel Literature,” Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2011). 306 For a general introduction to itineraria see J. Burian, “Itinerare,” Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2012). J. Elsner,"The Itinerarium Burdigalense: Politics and

105

Over time, itineraria became more widely used and often included information for specific groups of travelers like merchants or pilgrims.307 However, at its core, an itinerarium is a piece of bureaucratic reference material. Egeria’s text is an itinerarium, and, while she has certainly adapted the genre to Christian purposes, at its core, the text retains the structure of the original form, that is to say, there is a list of places and the time it takes to travel between them.308 For example, on Egeria’s trip to Carrhae, she tells us it takes 25 days to travel from Jerusalem to Edessa, that she was there three days, and then left the next day for Carrhae (17-20). That her text is an itinerarium is certainly not a point of contention for anybody, but the implications of this are less often discussed. The genre demands a certain attention to topics of political and military interest, specifically the travel distance between places and the nature of these places, and this is precisely what appears in Egeria’s text.

For example, while on the frontier, Egeria uses the framework of military forts to divide up her journey, rather than the Christian sites she sees along the way. Leaving

Clysma (present day Suez), a trading port founded by Trajan, she makes for the Roman fortress Magdalum, which she tells us is garrisoned, and then to Beelsephon, another fort, and then Phithom, and then to Arabia. So she actually is giving a survey of frontier fortresses and the travel time between them.309 Egeria also likes to comment on a city’s

Salvation in the Geography of Constantine's Empire," The Journal of Roman Studies 90 (2000), 184. 307 J. Elsner,"The Itinerarium Burdigalense: Politics and Salvation in the Geography of Constantine's Empire," 184. 308 J. Burian, “Itinerare,”: “The core of all itineraria, regardless if itineraria adnotata or itineraria picta, consisted of the road network and its stations, with the respective distances listed in milia passuum (‘miles’).” 309 Egeria’s stay at Clysma is discussed by P. Mayerson, “Egeria and Peter the Deacon on the Site of Clysma (Suez),” Journal of the American Research Center in Egypt 33 (1996), 61-64.

106 water sources. Aside from her description of springs and rivers with religious connotations, she also mentions the fact that Heroopolis, the town in conjunction with the fort of Phithom, has access to a river (8) and that Edessa has only one source of water within its walls, a fact that might be useful in a siege (19). These sorts of comments seem much more reflective of the original interests of an itinerarium.

There are two itineraries which can definitively be dated earlier than Egeria’s work. The Antonine Itinerary was compiled in the late 3rd or early 4th centuries AD.310

The Itinerarium Burgadalense was composed in AD 333-334.311 Other extant itineraries and similar works appear as contemporaneous to Egeria or later. The Notitia Dignitatum has been dated to c. 395-408, while the Cosmography is identified as a 5th century text.312 The Peutinger Table has also been given a late 4th or early 5th -century composition date.313 Egeria’s position within this group of extant texts is significant. It is readily apparent that the itineraria of Late Antiquity are diverse in focus and form. The

310 For an overview of this work, see N. Reed, “Pattern and Purpose in the Antonine Itinerary,” The American Journal of Philology 99:2 (1978), 228-254. See also G. R. Isaac, The Antonine Itinerary Land Routes: Place-Names of Ancient Europe and Asia Minor (Aberystwyth: CMCS Publications, 2002). 311 For a general introduction to the Itinerarium Burgadalense (IB) and a useful bibliography, see J. Elsner, “The Itinerarium Burdigalense: Politics and Salvation in the Geography of Constantine's Empire,” 181-195. On the Christian aspects of this text, see B. Kotting, Peregrinatio Religiosa. Wallfahrten in der Antike und das Pilgerwesen in den alten Kirche (1950), 343-54. The suggestion has been made that this text was also written by a women but this has been soundly refuted. See L. Douglass, “A New Look at the Itinerarium Burdigalense,” Journal of Early Christian Studies 4:3 (1996), 313-333, and S. Weingarten, “Was the Pilgrim from Bordeaux a Woman? A Reply to Laurie Douglass,” Journal of Early Christian Studies 7:2 (1999), 291-297. 312 For a general introduction to the Notitia Dignitatum, see K.P. Johne, “Notitia Dignitatum,” Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2011). On the Ravenna Cosmography, see S. Frere, “The Ravenna Cosmography and North Britain between the Walls,” Britannia 32 (2001), 286-292. 313 On the composition of the Peutinger Table see U. Fellmeth, “Tabula Peutingeriana,” Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2011). For the images see A. Levi and M. Levi, Itineraria Picta: Contributo allo studio della Tabula Peutingeriana (Rome: Bretschneider, 1967).

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Antonine Itinerary offers a broad list of distances between Roman stations and is very much in the traditional style of an itinerary. The Notitia Dignitatum on the other hand, identifies the geographic locations of all the Imperial offices, both administrative and military, within the empire. The Ravenna Cosmography provides an extensive list of place names spanning the known world. The Peutinger Table is in effect a road map of the empire. Egeria’s Christian predecessor, the Itinerarium Burgadalense, lists the distances between sites of interest to the Christian pilgrim. Thus, no two extant texts are similar. While each one deals with geography, there is no set form or style to which it seems necessary to adhere, no specific focus or content. Therefore, itinerarium as a genre appears to have been extremely fluid and only loosely defined.

This ambiguity in genre is only heightened through Egeria’s integration of the fledgling Christian genre of peregrinatio within the Itinerarium. The Itinerarium

Burgadalense, while Christian in focus, is immediately recognizable as an itinerary.

Egeria’s work is less overt. The list of sites becomes a detailed narrative, and only sections dealing with travel alone fall back into basic itinerary format. For example, the

IB’s author comments on Tarsus as follows: “Tarsus. The Apostle Paul was from there.”314 Egeria makes the following comments on the city: “Then leaving we went on by several staging posts and reached the province called Cilicia; Tarsus is its capital city, and I had already been there on my way to Jerusalem. But in Isauria, only three staging posts on from Tarsus, is the martyrium of holy Thecla, and since it was so close, we were very glad to be able to make the extra journey there.”315 Egeria marks a

314 IB, 579.3. 315Egeria, It. 22 (trans. J. Wilkinson, Egeria’s Travels, 140): Et sic proficiscens de Antiochia faciens iter per mansiones aliquot perveni ad provinciam, quae Cilicia appellatur, quae habet

108 transformation in the purpose of itineraria, as the focus of her text is beyond simple geography. Egeria is detailing a spiritual geography, a literary genre that was new.316

While a popular genre in the medieval period, peregrinatio was in its infancy at the time

Egeria was writing. Therefore, as with the other authors, Egeria’s text represents a genre in transition. Her work uses the mechanics of the itinerarium but has expanded and redefined the genre into peregrinatio, with purposes beyond the prosaic details of bare geography. The Itinerarium can thus be categorized as a text based on a genre that was already nebulous in structure and form, and as an early example of how the

Christianization of the genre was further altering form expectations.317

Therefore, the texts of Perpetua, Proba and Egeria were composed in genres that were both unusual or liminal compared to the standard canon, and which can also be seen to be incorporating aspects of multiple genres. Temporally, each text is also situated at the beginning of a series of transitory events, before any kind of standardization or unification occurs in the genre. Such genres, due to their very youth, had highly ambiguous natures in regard to how they could be used. Thus, the “Christianization” of genres which were already perceived as holding marginal status was effective in that it

civitatem metropolim Tharso, ubi quidem Tharso et eundo Ierusolimam iam fueram. Sed quoniam de Tharso tertia mansione, id est in Isauria, est martyrium sanctae Theclae, gratum fuit satis, ut etiam illuc accederem, praesertim cum tam in proximo esset. 316 L. Spizter, “The Epic Style of the Pilgrim Aetheria,” Comparative Literature 1:3 (1949), 258. 317 For comparative purposes it in interesting to look at later women’s travel accounts. See, for example, exerts of the texts by modern female travelers in Women through Women’s Eyes: Latin American Women in Nineteenth-Century Travel Accounts, ed. J. E. Hahner (Wilmington: Scholarly Resources, 1998).

109 appears to have provided a medium for the authors that offered considerable freedom compared to more traditional Roman genres.318

Authorial Gender

The ambiguity in regards to the genre of the texts can also be seen in the question of authorial gender. Unlike the firmly gendered genres, in which acceptance is dependent upon the appropriate sex, the newly Christianized forms of passio, cento and itinerarium did not yet have a tradition of masculine or feminine voice, and so could be employed by writers of both genders to similar effect. However, the texts display a level of gender ambiguity beyond even this. Just as each text is suggestive of incorporating multiple genres, they are equally suggestive of incorporating multiple authorial genders.

The passio, for example, does not stand as Perpetua’s independent voice. Rather, it operates within a masculine framework. As noted in Chapter One, when viewed as a complete literary work, the passio contains no less than three contributors: Perpetua, who wrote eight chapters (3-10), Saturus, her fellow martyr, who wrote three chapters (11.3-

13), and the editor/compiler who composed the introductory chapters, (1-3.1), the

318 It is useful at this point to consider H. R. Jauss, “Literary History as a Challenge to Literary Theory,” 12, who describes this process of genre development and audience response as an understanding of the manipulation of pre-existing genre expectations in similar, albeit much more theoretical terms: “A literary work, even if it seems new, does not appear as something absolutely new in an informational vacuum, but predisposes its readers to a very definite type of reception by textual strategies, overt and covert signals, familiar characteristics or implicit allusions. It awakens memories of the familiar, stirs particular emotions in the reader and with its ‘beginning’ arouses expectations for the ‘middle and end,’ which can then be continued intact, changed, re- oriented or even ironically fulfilled in the course of reading according to certain rules of the genre of type of text…The new text evokes for the reader (listener) the horizon of expectations and rules familiar from earlier texts, which are then varied, corrected, changed or just reproduced. Variation and correction determine the scope, alteration and reproduction of the borders and structure of the genre.”

110 concluding chapters (14-21) and transitional section in the middle of the text (11.1-2). As the editor is anonymous, his/her contribution to the passio offers what might be perceived as a neutral gender to the mix.319 The inclusion of Saturus’ account within the passio is almost certainly to support Perpetua’s words. As Veirow comments, his chapters work to

“confirm Perpetua’s dreams and to reinforce her newfound authority in her transformed sense of self; and his account…is purposefully bland so that his character does not upstage Perpetua’s.”320 The suggestion that Saturus is Perpetua’s husband seems a reaction to the literary partnership created in the text. As pointed out by Osiek, Perpetua and Saturus function as a unit for the duration of the text. Saturus is central to Perpetua’s visions, as she is to his.321 While Oseik can do little more than speculate on a matrimonial link between the two, her recognition of the connection between Perpetua and Saturus shows just how strongly the voices of the two authors interconnect.322 It is difficult, therefore, to identify Perpetua as a wholly independent or self-supporting author. The immensely popular reception of her vita was based on a work to which she was one of several contributors.

319 Tertullian has often been suggested as the editor behind the text, although this idea has lost support in recent years on account of Barnes’ denial of this possibility. See T. D. Barnes, Tertullian: A Historical and Literary Study, rev. ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985), 71, 263-265. 320 H. Veirow, “Feminine and Masculine Voices in the Passion of Saints Perpetua and Felicitas,” Latomus 58 (1999), 617-618. 321 C. Osiek, “Perpetua’s Husband”, 289. 322 Note the conclusion to their section of the text. Passio S. Perpetuae, 14.1: “These are the notable visions of the most holy martyrs themselves, Saturus and Perpetua, which they themselves wrote” (Hae uisiones insigniores ipsorum martyrum beatissimorum Saturi et Perpetuae, quas ipsi conscripserunt).

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To this conclusion must be added the additional complexity of the possibility that

Perpetua’s account is a notarius’ version.323 There are strong indications that what the vita preserves is Perpetua’s personal account of her experience, as she herself told it. The literary style of her section seems to contain many markers of a verbatim recording. It is colloquial, prone to rambling, and begins almost all its sentences with ‘et’, although, as

Ronsse points out, this tendency is almost never reflected in English translations.324 Also indicative is her tendency to choose the immediate present tense of video when describing her visions, rather than the much more historically-minded past tenses of the verb.325 As a notarius’ or rough draft version, the control Perpetua had over the creation of her section of the text is reduced.326 While the editor goes to great lengths to assure the reader that Perpetua’s section is “written in her own hand and her own words”327 the emphasis on its veracity is strongly indicative of the acknowledged possibilities for

323 This is suggested by E. Ronsse, “Rhetoric of Martyrs: Listening to Saints Perpetua and Felicitas,” 322. 324 Ibid. 322. 325 Ibid. 310-311. 326 Consider Jerome’s frustrations with copies of his sermons distributed without his consent. Ep. 49.2 (trans. W.H. Fremantle, G. Lewis and W.G. Martley): “I quite recognize the kindness and forethought which have induced you to withdraw from circulation some copies of my work against Jovinian. Your diligence, however, has been of no avail, for several people coming from the city have repeatedly read aloud to me passages which they have come across in Rome. In this province, also, the books have already been circulated; and, as you have read yourself in Horace, ‘Words once uttered cannot be recalled.’ I am not so fortunate as are most of the writers of the day— able, that is, to correct my trifles whenever I like. When once I have written anything, either my admirers or my ill-wishers— from different motives, but with equal zeal— sow my work broadcast among the public; and their language, whether it is that of eulogy or of criticism, is apt to run to excess. They are guided not by the merits of the piece, but by their own angry feelings” (De opusculis meis contra Jovinianum, quod et prudenter et amanter feceris, exemplaria subtrahendo, optime novi. Sed nihil profuit ista diligentia, cum aliquanti ex Urbe venientes, mihi eadem lectitarent, quae se Romae excepisse referebant. In hac quoque provincia jam libri fuerant divulgati: et ut ipse legisti, “nescit vox missa reverti.” Non sum tantae felicitatis, quantae plerique hujus temporis Tractatores, ut nugas meas quando voluerim emendare possim. Statim ut aliquid scripsero, aut imatores mei, aut invidi, diverso quidem studio, sed pari certamine, in vulgus nostra disseminant: et vel in laude, vel in vituperatione nimii sunt: non meritum stili, sed suum stomachum sequentes). 327 Passio S. Perpetuae, 2: conscriptum manu sua et suo sensu reliquit.

112 tampering. Therefore, Perpetua the author has potentially survived as a rough draft copy of a lecture/dictation combined with the text of a male companion, couched within a text edited by a third person.328 Such complications seriously undermine the clarity of authorial gender and voice. It seems that Perpetua’s text is therefore transitional/ambiguous both in author and in authorial gender. Perpetua’s female voice is blended with the masculinity of Saturus and modified by both the editor, whose gender is indeterminate, and the possibility of a verbal recorder.

The multiplicity of authorial voice is present in a different way in the cento.

While the cento has a single female author (Proba), the nature of the form brings with it a second masculine voice that is internalized within the text. As discussed above, one of the major critiques against cento was the fact that using authoritative works like those of

Virgil and Homer as the building blocks imbued the new works with the legitimacy of those respected writers. Hence, Proba’s text, due to its Virgilian source material holds within it a very masculine authorial voice.329 The obvious difference between the cento and Perpetua in this regard lies in the manner in which gendered voice is appropriated.

While Perpetua’s voice seems to have been modified by a masculine redactor, Proba is directly controlling the masculine voice within her text. The ability of the centoist to manipulate authorial gender is something to investigate. Does this represent a shift in perceptions of the appropriate manifestation of the female voice? Does the elite status of

328 This is an entirely different issue from the gender that Perpetua herself assumes in her visions. On Perpetua’s assumption of a masculine gender, see K. Cooper, “The Voice of the Victim: Gender, Representation and Early Christian Martyrdom,” 147-157; M. A. Rossi, “The Passion of Perpetua, Everywoman of Late Antiquity,” 53-86; M. Lefkowitz, “The Motivations for St. Perpetua’s Martyrdom,” 417-21. 329 A. Keith, Engendering Rome: Women in Latin Epic (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 35.

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Proba make allowances for authorial control that were not possible for women outside of the aristocracy? Or, is it simply that the strictures of cento itself mandate this blending of voice regardless of gender? Certainly the cento as a literary form was always highly dependent upon the source text that was used. As an example of intertextuality the cento stands as a rather obvious example of literary interplay. As noted by Verweyen and

Witting, the late antique cento can really only be defined through its use of pre-texts, that is selecting “sentences or syntagms from one or several texts and transferring them unalteredly into a new text.”330 This understanding of authorial interdependence appears to be one of the few defining characteristics of cento as a whole.331 In this sense it is impossible for the author of a cento to be independent from the author of the pre-text, regardless of identity or sex. Thus, cento seems to possess an element of authorial opacity regardless of who is writing.

Therefore, as we have seen with Perpetua, Proba appears in the history of her genre at a particularly transitional and mutable moment. The establishment of female involvement within this genre no doubt set a useful precedent for Eudocia’s use of the genre, some time after Proba, and allowed her to expand the project to include the Greek interpretation of the same idea. Hence, the re-appropriation of cento for Christian purposes brings with it a degree of ambiguity in the parameters for the genre, parameters

330 T. Verweyen and G. Witting, “The Cento: A Form of Intertextuality from Montage to Parody,” in Intertextuality, ed. Heinrich F. Plett (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1991), 172. 331 For an overview of cento and its defining features, see also F. Nies, “Centon,” in Genres Mineurs: Texte zur Theorie und Geshichte nichtkanonischer Literatur (vom 16. Jahrhundert bis zur Gegenwart), ed. F. Nies and J. Rehbein (Munchen: W. Fink, 1978), 35; R. Herzog, Die Bibelepik der lateinischen Spatantike: Formgeschichte einer erbaulichen Gatung, vol. 1 (Munchen: W. Fink, 1975), 11.

114 which were, it must be noted, already vague. The Christian cento, therefore, provided a medium for female voice that was new, and undefined.

Egeria’s itinerarium also contains features which blur authorial gender. Egeria’s work is a first-person account, decidedly not a feature of the standard itinerary. In this aspect there are strong similarities to Perpetua, in the sense that both texts convey personal experience. However, unlike the text of Perpetua, Egeria’s text stands alone, and incorporates no other authorial voice.332 The complexities of her audience may offer one suggestion as to why. If she were writing predominantly to a group of women it could be surmised that she had no need to incorporate a masculine voice within her words. Or if she were in fact speaking to a live group, then it would be difficult for her to bring any voice but her own to the public arena. That being said, a particular trend within the text demands comment. Egeria describes where she goes and what she sees, but at any point where the text turns purposefully didactic, Egeria relates the information either through scripture, or the words of a male guide. Egeria describes her ascent of Mt. Sinai, but it is the monks who describe the holy sites that she sees upon it.333 Egeria describes the valley below Mt. Sinai, but falls back on scripture to discuss the site of the burning bush.334

332 It should be noted here that the possibility of an additional authorial voice in the form of an unknown scribe is touched on in Chapter Three, 167. 333 Egeria, It. 3.7: “Then I asked them [the holy men on Mt. Sinai] to show us each place. Then at once the holy men deigned to show each one. They showed us the cave where holy Moses was when he ascended a second time the mountain of God in order the receive the after he had broken the first tables as the people had sinned. And every place which we desired to see or which they knew well they deigned to show to us” (tunc coepi eos rogare, ut ostenderent nobis singula loca. Tunc statim illi sancti dignati sunt singula ostendere. Nam ostenderunt nobis speluncam illam, ubi fuit sanctus Moyses, cum iterato ascendisset in montem Dei, ut acciperet denuo tabulas, posteaquam priores illas fregerat peccante populo, et cetera locaquaecumque desiderabamus vel quae ipsi melius noverant, dignati sunt ostendere nobis). 334 Egeria, It, 4.8: Also, they showed us that place where holy Moses stood when God said to him: ‘loosen the straps of your sandals’ and the rest” (Locus etiam ostenditur ibi iuxta, ubi stetit sanctus Moyses, quando ei dixit Deus: «solve corrigiam calciamenti tui» et cetera).

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Egeria differentiates between what she sees and what she is shown, and often casts herself as the passive observer. Thus, while the voice of her text is her own, she does consistently draw on sources of masculine authority throughout the work.335

Ultimately then, as with the women discussed earlier, Egeria’s work reflects a similar degree of ambiguity. She incorporates a number of genres, recombining them into a decidedly new type of literature that has little in the way of rules or conventions. She incorporates masculine sources of authority within her own words, blurring authorial gender.

Female Speech

The combination of an ambiguous genre and an ambiguous authorial gender seems to have been the niche world wherein female writers were well received. Perhaps, in part, the pre-existence of fictional female voices within many genres of Latin literature facilitated the acceptance of actual female voice within these parameters. Female characters certainly appear as speakers within the epic and elegiac poems of men. Ovid’s female narrators in the Heroides, Propertius’ Cynthia, Horace’s Lyde and Licymnia,

Ennius’ Ilia, ’ Iphigenia, and Vergil’s Dido are but some of the better known examples of such women.336 Significant work has been done in recent years on these

335 It is interesting to note that this pattern has been identified in Medieval women writers as well. L. D’Arcens, “ “Je, Christine’: Christine de Pizan’s Autobiographical Topoi,” in The Unsociable Sociability of Women’s Lifewriting, ed. A. Collett and L. D’Arcens (London: Palgrave MacMillan, 2010), 18, notes the combination of first-person account and masculine texutal quotes in the works of Christine de Pizan. 336 For a survey of women in epic see A. Keith, Engendering Rome: Women in Latin Epic; for an introduction to the Heroides, see G. Davis, “From Lyric to Elegy: The Inscription of the Elegiac Subject in Heriodes 15 (Sappho to Phaon),” in Defining Genre and Gender in Latin Literature,

116 literary puellae, in particular on their role within the texts. Unlike the texts with actual female authors, the vast majority of scholars agree that these fictional women serve to reinforce masculine identities and masculine conceptualizations of women as literary figures, and therefore provide little access into a historical female voice.337 As literary figures, however, women do appear to have been imbued with a ‘female’ voice, distinct from the masculine author. In other words, there is evidence to suggest that authors did attempt to create female characters with a specifically ‘female’ manner of speech.

In his survey of female speech in Latin comedy, Adams identifies a number of words and ideas that female characters are regularly scripted to say.338 He identifies two major themes of female speech, firstly, that female characters speak more politely and deferentially, and, secondly, that female characters are much more prone to emotional or affectionate expressions.339 While Adams rightly notes that the correlation between female speech in comedy and the reality of female speakers is extremely tenuous, he also points out that the literary creation must have had some sort of resonance with Roman society, and societal expectations.340 This conclusion raises two points that are critical to our discussion here. Firstly, it demonstrates that Roman audiences were familiar with female voices appearing in literary texts, provided that these voices had a mitigating

ed. W. W. Batstone and G. Tissol (New York: Peter Lang, 2005), 175-189; for an introduction to Horace’s Lyde and Licymnia, see E. Sutherland, “Literary Women in Horace’s Odes 2.11 and 2.12,” in Defining Genre and Gender in Latin Literature, 194-210. 337 See, most recently, S. L. James, “Ipsa Dixerat: Women’s Words in Roman Love Elegy,” Phoenix 64 (2010), 342. See also S. H. Braund, “A Woman’s Voice?- Laronia’s Role in Juvenal Satire 2,” in New Assessments, ed. R. Hawley and B. Levick (London: Routledge, 1995), 214. 338 J. N. Adams, “Female Speech in Latin Comedy,” Antichthon 18 (1984), 43-77. 339 Ibid., 76. See also M. E. Gilleland, “ Female Speech in Greek and Latin,” The American Journal of Philology 101 (1980), 180. 340 J. N. Adams, “Female Speech in Latin Comedy,” 43. For a complementary expansion of this argument into Greek comedy, see D. Bain, “Female Speech in Menander,” Antichthon 18 (1984), 24-42.

117 masculine influence. While, in the case of the puellae, the female voice existed as an abstract, this acceptance may have provided a path for women to insert their own voices into this model. Sulpicia, an early example of such a substitution, has been convincingly proven to have granted a new female vocalization to the puella in her poems by casting herself within this role.341 Therefore, gender ambiguity or gender combination within the literary voice of a text worked in favour of a female author, because it drew upon an already extant literary tradition. Secondly, the literary creation of a ‘female’ voice by male poets provides an indication of what literary style a Roman audience expected from a woman.

That female speech had a specific set of conventions is perhaps best indicated in

Fronto’s praise of Quinctius Atta for being the best in creating it. When discussing the various voices that appear in literature he tells that “…certain other writers are noticeable for choiceness in special spheres, as Novius, Pomponius, and their like, in rustic and jocular and comic words, Atta in women’s talk, Sisenna in erotics,

Lucilius in the technical language of each art and business.”342 Unfortunately, not enough survives of Atta’s fabulae togatae to identify what this “women’s talk” actually was.

However, comparisons of masculine and feminine voices within comedy and poetry suggest that the female voice was more emotional. Female voices are imbued with indications of emotion such as inarticulate exclamations and personalized appeals.

341 M. S. Santirocco, “Sulpicia Reconsidered, “ Classical Journal 74 (1979), 231; A. Keith, “Critical Trends in Interpreting Sulpicia,” The Classical World 100:1 (2006), 3-4. Sulpicia is now considered to have deliberately played upon the fictional identity of a puella in her poetry. 342 Fronto, Ad M. Caesarem, 4.3.2 (trans. Loeb): Nam praeter hos partim scriptorum animadvertas particulatim elegantes, Novium et Pomponium et id genus in verbis rusticanis et iocularibus ac ridiculariis, Attam in muliebribus, Sisennam in lascivis, Lucilium in cuiusque artis ac negotii propriis.

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Therefore, women authors, in order to successfully navigate the expectations of an audience, would need to be sensitive to ingrained attitudes on how a women ought to speak. Women might expect a more positive response to their work if they connected to already existing traditions for the fictional female voice.

To this end it seems telling that each of the major texts written by women employs intense personal emotion as a textual focus.343 Perpetua’s text describes her feelings during her period of incarceration. She tells us upon being taken into the prison,

“I was much afraid because I had never known such darkness. O bitter day! There was a great heat because of the press, there was cruel handling of the soldiers. Lastly I was tormented there by care for the child.”344 When her family came to visit her and to bring her son she shares how she

Pined because I saw they pined for my sake. Such cares I suffered for many days; and I obtained that the child should abide with me in prison; and straightway I became well and was lightened of my labour and care for the child; and suddenly the prison was made a palace for me, so that I would sooner be there than anywhere else.345

Perpetua equates each experience and vision she had with joy or with sorrow or with hope. She relates these emotions as her personal feelings. She states, “I was afraid

343 At this point it should be noted that this is no way denies the presence of personal emotion in texts written by men or suggests that this feature is exclusive to female authors. See, for example, Quality and Pleasure in Latin Poetry, ed. T. Woodman and D. West (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1974). 344 Passio S. Perpetuae, 3.7 (trans. W. H. Shewring): Et expaui, quia numquam experta eram tales tenebras. O diem asperum: aestus ualidus turbarum beneficio, concussurae militum. nouissime macerabar sollicitudine infantis ibi. 345 Ibid., 3.12 (trans. W. H. Shewring): Tabescebam ideo quod illos tabescere uideram mei beneficio. Tales sollicitudines multis diebus passa sum; et usurpaui ut mecum infans in carcere maneret; et statim conualui et releuata sum a labore et sollicitudine infantis, et factus est mihi carcer subito praetorium, ut ibi mallem esse quam alicubi.

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(expavi) because”,346 “I was amazed (obstipui) because”,347 “I was grieved (dolui) because”.348 This style seems very much in keeping with that of literary female figures, who are equally focused upon their feelings. To return to Adams’ study of female speech in Latin comedy, for example, female characters in and are given a vocabulary distinct from male characters, in which they are far more prone to use emotional and personal expressions.349 One of the more basic expressions discussed by

Adams is the gendered use of amabo, a word employed almost exclusively by female characters, and one that women appear to use almost indiscriminately towards other people.350

A similar pattern might be drawn from female figures in Latin epic. As shown by

Keith, women in epic are intensely emotional creatures. Female figures are cast as highly reactionary, emotional, unstable figures, often overwhelmed by personal feelings.351

Ovid’s Heroides provide yet further examples of the creation of a female specific speech, one in which personal emotion is dominant. Ovid’s fictional female authors speak intimately and experientially. Ovid’s Sappho, for example, is fixated on expressing her feelings. When she explains why she is writing elegy rather than lyric, it is because, “I am obliged to make lament for my love, and elegy is the genre for lament; for my tears

346 See n. 344 above. 347 Passio S. Perpetuae, 7.2. 348 Passio S. Perpetuae, 7.2: “And I was amazed that he [her brother Dinocrates] had never come into my mind until then, and remembering his death I was grieved” (et obstipui quod numquam mihi in mentem uenisset nisi tunc, et dolui commemorata casus eius). 349 J. N. Adams, “Female Speech in Latin Comedy,” 43-77. 350 Ibid., 61-63. 351 A. Keith, Engendering Rome: Women in Latin Epic, 101-131.

120 no Lesbian lyre is adequate.”352 When she is in love she says, “I am burning, like a fertile field on fire with kindled harvests as the east wind stokes the blaze.”353 In essence Latin literature has an obvious trope for female voice, an artificial voice, but a recognizable one nonetheless. The continuation of this literary style by actual women authors is then suggestive.354

Proba’s text also demonstrates the idea of personalized emotion. Both her introduction and her conclusion focus on her feelings and desires. She begins by discussing what she sees as her shameful secular poetic past and her sorrow over having written such things. Of being guilty of such ‘crimes’ she writes, “I confess.”355 She writes that she does not care about such poetic themes any more (non nunc ambrosium cura est mihi quaerere nectar) and that false errors can no longer convince her that rocks talk

(non mihi saxa loqui vanus persuadeat error).356 She shares with the reader her desire for the text, that God might help her to use Vergil to tell the story of Christ (Vergilium cecinisse loquar pia munera Christi) and to keep her family on the correct religious path

(hac casti maneant in religione nepotes).357 Hence, the bulk of the text is framed between two personal messages and establishes the personal emotions and feelings which have inspired the cento.

352 G. Davis, “From Lyric to Elegy: The Inscription of the Elegiac Subject in Heriodes 15 (Sappho to Phaon),” 178. 353 Ibid., 179. For a much more comprehensive study of the female voices in the Heriodes, see L. Kauffman, Discourses of Desire: Gender, Genre and Epistolary Fictions (Ithaca, 1986). It should be noted that Sappho’s own emotional style no doubt played a role in Ovid’s created Sappho. 354 Oh the identification of a female ‘voice’ in more modern poetry, see, for example, I. Williams, “Female Voices, Male Listeners: Identifying Gender in the Poetry of Anne Sexton and Wanda Coleman,” in Women’s Literary Creativity and the Female Body, ed. D. Long Hoeveler and D. Decker Schuster (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007), 175-178. 355 Proba, Cento, 8. 356 Ibid., 13, 15. 357 Ibid., 23, 694.

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Personal emotion is also prevalent in Egeria’s text. Egeria describes her journey as a personal experience and continually references the feelings various places and events evoked within her. On top of Mount Nebo, Egeria is “overjoyed” (gavisi) to have the many sites pointed out to her.358 She is “beyond happy” (satis grato) that the bishop of

Edessa gave her copies of the letters of Abgar to the Lord and the Lord’s response.359

Upon meeting her friend Marthana at the Shrine of St. Thecla, Egeria comments, “Would

I ever be able to describe how great her joy and mine when she saw me?”360 Egeria also describes her disappointments and struggles. Climbing Mt. Sinai was so hard for her that she only managed it with God’s help. “I made the ascent with great effort, because it had to be on foot…Yet you did not feel the effort; and the reason it was not felt was because I saw the desire which I had being fulfilled through the will of God.”361 She is disappointed that the Pillar of Lot’s wife is gone from where it was said to be.362 She also continually states her feelings of gratitude for the holy men who were showing her all the various places, and her feelings of being undeserving of such generosity. For example, upon leaving Sinai she concludes the section by saying, “I cannot sufficiently thank all those holy men who so willingly consented to receive my humble person in their cells and

358 Egeria, It. 12. 359 Ibid. 19. 360 Ibid., 23 (trans. G. E. Gringas): Quae me cum vidisset, quod gaudium illius vel meum esse potuerit, nunquid vel scribere possum? 361 Ibid., 3 (trans. G. E. Gringas): et sic cum grandi labore, quia pedibus me ascendere necesse… tamen ipse labor non sentiebatur, ex ea parte autem non sentiebatur labor, quia desiderium, quod habebam, iubente Deo videbam compleri. 362 Ibid., 12.

122 above all to guide me through the places which I was forever seeking out.”363 Hence,

Egeria’s text consistently focuses on her feelings throughout her journey.

Ambiguity and Reception

The texts above also display a range of solutions that serve to imbue them with a degree of masculine voice. It can be surmised that the mitigation of female authorial gender must have played a role in their reception and acceptance by a Roman audience.

Each of the authors received effusive praise for their efforts. Egeria’s work, discussed at length by Valerius of Bierzo,364 and quoted in full here, is seen as nothing less than heroic.

We revere the valorous achievements of the mighty saints who were men, but we are amazed when still more courageous deeds are achieved by weak womanhood, such deeds as are indeed described in the remarkable history of the most blessed Egeria, who by her courage outdid the men of any age whatever. At that point of time when at length the gracious dawn of the catholic faith was seen, and after long delay our holy religion arrived with its bright and endless light at this part of the furthest West, a longing for God’s grace set on fire the heart of this most blessed nun Egeria. In the strength of the glorious Lord she fearlessly set out on an immense

363 Ibid., 5 (trans. G. E. Gringas): tamen etiam et illis omnibus sanctis nec sufficio gratias agere, qui meam parvitatem dignabantur in suis monasteriis libenti animo suscipere vel certe per omnia loca deducere, quae ego semper iuxta scripturas sanctas requirebam. 364 Valerius of Bierzo (c. 630-695) was a seventh-century Spanish monk and later abbot of Compludo in Spain. In his autobiographical work, Ordo Querimoniae, he describes seeking out the solitude at Compludo, and later moving to a hermitage outside of Astorga in Spain. For more on Valerius see M. Dietz, Wandering Monks, Virgins, And Pilgrims: Ascetic Travel In The Mediterranean World AD 300-800 (Pennsylvania: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2005), 183-184, 183 n. 137. On his writings, see R. Collins, “The ‘Autobiographical’ Works of Valerius of Bierzo: Their Structure and Purpose,” Los Visigodos. Historia y Civilización 3 (1986), 425- 442.

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journey to the other side of the world. Guided by God she pressed on until after a time she reached what she had longed for, the much-desired and most holy places of the birth, passion, and resurrection of the Lord, and of the bodies of countless holy martyrs in many different provinces and cities. Her purpose was to pray and find edification; for the more she had advanced in holy doctrine, the more insatiably her holy longing burned in her heart. First with great industry she perused all the books of the Old and New Testaments, and discovered all its descriptions of the holy wonders of the world; and its regions, provinces, cities, mountains, and deserts. Then in eager haste (though it was to take many years) she set out, with God’s help, to explore them. At length she penetrated the east, and there, according to her earnest desire, she visited the coenobia of the glorious congregations of holy monks in the Thebaid, and likewise the holy cells of the anachoretae. Much fortified by the blessings of so many saints, and refreshed by the sweet nourishment of their charity, she left them, and went on to visit all the provinces of Egypt. With the greatest application she sought out, and then elegantly described, all the places where the children of Israel had lived during their ancient wanderings, the extent of each province, the marvelous fertility of the land, and the remarkable buildings and other sights in the cities.365

365 Valerius of Bierzo, Ep. 1.1 (PL 87.421B-426A) (trans, J. Wilkinson, Egeria’s Travels, 202): Dum fortissimorum sanctorumque uirorum uirtutum adtendimus acta, feminee fragilitatis magis constantissima admiratur uirtutis efficacia, sicut beatissime Egerie, cunctorum secularium fortioris uirorum, eximia narrat storia. Itaque dum olim almifica fidei catholice crepundia lucifluaque sacre religionis inmensa claritas huius occidue plage sera processione tandem refulsisset extremitas, idem beatissima sanctimonialis Egeria flamma desiderii gratie diuine succensa, maiestatis Domini opitulante uirtute, totis nisibus intrepido corde inmensum totius orbis arripuit iter; sicque paulisper duce Domino gradiendo, peruenit ad sacratissima et desiderabilia loca natiuitatis, passionis et resurrectionis Domini, atque innumerabilium sanctorum per diuersas prouincias uel ciuitates corpora martirum, orationis gratia edificationisque peritia. Quanto plus sancto dogmate indepta, tanto amplius inexplicabilis estuabat in corde eius sancti desiderii flamma : cuncta igitur Veteris ac Noui Testamenti omni indagatione percurrens uolumina, et quacumque sanctarum mirabiliorum loca in diuersis mundi partibus, prouinciis, ciuitatibus, montibus, ceterisque desertis repperit esse conscripta, sollicita expeditione licet per multa annorum spatia peregrinando proficiscens, tamen cuncta cum Dei iubamine perlustrans, tandem parte Orientis ingressa, sanctorum summo cum desiderio Thebeorum uisitans monachorum gloriosissima congregationum cenobia, similiter et sancta anachoretarum ergastula. Vnde benedictionibus sanctorum plerumque munita, et dulce alimonia karitatis refecta, ad cunctas Egypti conuertit prouincias et omnes antique peregrinationis

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Thus, Egeria’s work seems to have been well regarded in the period following its composition. Valerius’ attitude towards the nature of the text is informative. In the introduction to his letter he twice mentions her authorship of the work. The first instance is Egerie…eximia narrat storia.366 The second reference is per singula describens cunctarum uenustissimam laudem.367 In both instances, Valerius credits Egeria with the acts of telling, or describing, rather than writing. He appears to be responding to her highly experiential style in a positive fashion. He also identifies her work as a storia, which may be a corrupt form of historia, but also could just as easily be translated as tale or story, and indeed, such a translation might be better matched to its description as eximia.

Perpetua’s work was also accepted and promoted. The redactor of her work is full of nothing but awe for her and her experience as she told it. As with Egeria, Perpetua’s work is seen as an invaluable Christian exemplum. This is made clear in the editor’s introduction to her work,

And thus we— who both acknowledge and reverence, even as we do the prophecies, modern visions as equally promised to us, and consider the other powers of the Holy Spirit as an agency of the Church for which also He was sent, administering all gifts in all, even as the Lord distributed to every one as well needfully collect them in

Srahelitici populi summa intentione perquirens habitationes, singularumque prouinciarum magnitudines, uberrimas fertilitates atque prespicuas urbiumque munitiones et uarias pulcritudines, per singula describens cunctarum uenustissimam laudem. On this letter see also M. C. Díaz y Díaz, “Lettre de Valérius du Bierzo sur la Bienheureuse Égérie. Introduction, Texte et Traduction,” In Journal de Voyage (Itineraire) et Lettre sur la Bienheureuse Égérie. Sources Chrétiennes 296 (Paris, 1996). 366 Valerius of Bierzo, Ep. 1.1.2. 367 Ibid. 1.1.4.

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writing, as commemorate them in reading to God's glory…368

Perpetua’s account of the days leading up to her death is seen as being of great use to the Christian community as a whole, as means of inspiring and reaffirming faith.

The passio closes with the editor concluding,

O most brave and blessed martyrs! O truly called and chosen unto the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ! Whom whoever magnifies, and honours, and adores, assuredly ought to read these examples for the edification of the Church, not less than the ancient ones, so that new virtues also may testify that one and the same Holy Spirit is always operating even until now, and God the Father Omnipotent, and His Son Jesus Christ our Lord, whose is the glory and infinite power for ever and ever. Amen.369

Clearly, the editor, who had full control over what was included in the text and what was not, felt that Perpetua’s own words were a useful contribution in achieving the overall purpose of the work. Just as clearly, the reception of this work was overwhelmingly popular. Augustine’s sermons on the martyr, while focusing on the text as a whole, consistently praise Perpetua’s experience as she herself described it. Like the editor of the text, Augustine saw Perpetua as a useful source for supporting his message, and he was

368 Passio S. Perpetuae, preface (trans. R.E. Wallis, Ante-Nicene Fathers, vol. 3, ed. A. Roberts, J. Donaldson, and A. Cleveland Coxe (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1885): itaque et nos qui sicut prophetias ita et uisiones nouas pariter repromissas et agnoscimus et honoramus ceterasque uirtutes Spiritus Sancti ad instrumentum Ecclesiae deputamus (cui et missus est idem omnia donatiua administraturus in omnibus, prout unicuique distribuit dominus) necessario et digerimus et ad gloriam Dei lectione celebramus. 369 Ibid. 6.4 (trans. R.E. Wallis): O fortissimi ac beatissimi martyres! o uere uocati et electi in gloriam domini nostri Iesu Christi! quam qui magnificat et honorificat et adorat, utique et haec non minora ueteribus exempla in aedificationem Ecclesiae legere debet, ut nouae quoque uirtutes unum et eundem semper Spiritum Sanctum usque adhuc operari testificentur, et omnipotentem Deum Patrem et Filium eius Iesum Christum dominum nostrum, cui est claritas et inmensa potestas in saecula saeculorum. Amen.

126 more than willing to appropriate her words, and her voice. In the period between 400 and

420 Augustine preached three sermons about Perpetua and Felicitas on their dies natalis.370 In his first of the three sermons (Serm. 280) he describes the women as figures

“men may more easily admire than imitate”.371 He is clearly aware of the text and makes numerous allusions to it, implying a degree of audience awareness as well.372

In addition, the translation of the text into Greek, as well as the creation of a shorter version of the text, both speak further to the popularity of the text. The date of the

Greek text has not yet been determined, but internal evidence from the text decisively identifies it as a translation of the Latin text, and not vice versa.373 The translation of a work into another language is an extremely strong indication of widespread interest in that text. Likewise, the existence of the shorter Acts of SS. Perpetua and Felicitas, which is clearly based upon the original text, is equally suggestive of the popularity of the story.374 While an abridged version, the Acta still retains much of Perpetua’s section of the text. Hence, Perpetua’s work was popular enough to be translated, abridged, and referenced in Augustine’s sermons more than 200 years later.

370 Serm. 280, 281, 282 (PL 38.1281-1288). See G. P. C. Streete, Redeemed Bodies: Women Martyrs in Early Christianity (London: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 59. 371 Augustine, Serm. 280.1 (PL 38.1281): For who is more glorious than these women, whom men may more easily admire than imitate?” (Quid enim gloriosius his feminis, quas viri mirantur facilius, quam imitantur?) 372 See, for example, Augustine, Serm. 281.2 (PL 38.1284), where Augustine refers to Perptua’s description of the devil in her text: Delectat autem piam mentem tale spectaculum contueri, quale sibi beata Perpetua de se ipsa revelatum esse narravit, virum se factam certasse cum diabolo. 373 See J. Armitage Robinson, “The Passion of S. Perpetua,” 3-9. Robinson neatly sums this up by pointing to a number of features indicative of translated text, in particular, the presence of explanatory details that are not needed in the original, the inability of the translation to bring into it the wordplay of the original, and overall a weakening of the point of the original, through the challenges of translation. 374 Ibid., 15-22.

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Proba’s cento was also widely respected in the centuries following its composition. It appears also to have added prestige to her family. While Jerome’s scathing reference to cento is often seen as a direct criticism of Proba, it is largely mitigated by Jerome’s letter to Demetrias, a descendant of Proba, in which he is full of praise for the talents of her family and her female ancestors. Upon closing a lengthy summary of the wonders of Demetrias’ grandmother, Anicia Faltonia Proba, Jerome summarizes the qualities of the family.

I perceive also that I am laying myself open to the attacks of enemies and that I may seem to be flattering a lady of the highest birth and distinction. Yet these men will not be able to accuse me when they learn that hitherto I have said nothing about her. I have never either in the lifetime of her husband or since his decease praised her for the antiquity of her family or for the extent of her wealth and power, subjects which others might perhaps have improved in mercenary speeches. My purpose is to praise the grandmother of my virgin in a style befitting the church, and to thank her for having aided with her goodwill the desire which Demetrias has formed.375

So despite Jerome’s comments on chatty old women writing poetry discussed above, it seems that ultimately he has nothing but good things to say about the women of Proba’s family.376 Another strong piece of evidence for the popularity of Proba’s work, and its wide acceptance, is the request of a copy of it by the eastern emperor. The scribe’s dedication to Arcadius reads as follows.

375 Jerome, Ep. 130.7 (PL 22.1113) (trans. W.H. Fremantle, G. Lewis and W.G. Martley): Sentio me inimicorum patere morsibus? quod adulari videar clarissimae et nobilissimae feminae; qui accusare non poterunt, si me scierint [al. scient] hucusque tacuisse. Neque enim laudavi in ea unquam antiquitatem generis, divitiarum et potentiae magnitudinem, viro vivente vel mortuo, quae alii forsitan mercenaria oratione laudaverint. Mihi propositum est stylo ecclesiastico laudare aviam virginis meae, et gratias agere, quod voluntatem ejus, sua adjuverit voluntate. 376 For his criticism see Ep. 53.7.

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Guide of Romulus’ descendants, the bright Sun’s second light who guide the Eastern Realms in fair and lawful government, You, the Empire’s hope and your brother’s glory: Deign to renew an old acquaintance—Maro, Changed for the better with sacred meaning, Whom you commanded that your servant write. Here will be set forth for you in verse The world’s beginning, heaven’s shape, and mankind Made from clay. Here will be revealed Christ’s birth and Herod’s plots, the Magi’s Gifts, the disciples who were taught; also The perils of the sea, and the walk upon it; Here slavery’s broken yoke, and life brought back By the help of the one true cross; also, the return Of Buried Death, as well as the ascension Of the Christ as he departed for his Kingdom. Reread this poem, keep it safe through time, And hand it down to the younger Arcadius, Then he to his own sons. May your august Posterity always receive this poem well. And teach it always to their families.377

Other examples of the positive reception of Proba are more subtle. Pope

Damasus’ (305-384) emulation of her style within his own work is certainly an indication of respect and appreciation, even if she is never directly mentioned.378 Likewise, the quick production of two other Christian centos following her work can also be seen as a

377 E. A. Clark and D. F. Hatch, The Golden Bough, The Oaken Cross, 13: Romulidum ductor, clari lux altera solis,/ eoa qui regna regis moderamine iusto,/ spes orbis fratrisque decus: dignare Maronem mutatum in melius diuino agnoscere sensu,/ scribendeum famulo quem iusseras. hic tibi mundi/ principium formamque poli hominenque creatum/ expediet limo, hic Christi proferet ortum,/ insidias regis, magorum praemia, doctos/ discipulos pelagique minas gressumque per aequor,/ hic fractum famulare iugum uitamque reductam/ unius crucis auxilio reditumque sepultae/ mortis et ascensum pariter sua regna petentis./ haec relegas seuesque diu tradasque minori/ Arcadio, haec ille suo semini, haec tua semper accipiat doceatque suos augusta propago. 378 For a comparison of his work to Proba’s, see R. P. H. Green, “Proba’s Cento: Its Date, Purpose, and Reception”, 561.

129 response to the popularity of her work.379 Eudocia’s Homeric cento can also be seen to follow in Proba’s tradition.380 Perhaps most indicative of its perceived value was its use as a Christian-appropriate reader for Vergil during the Middle Ages.381 Her popularity in

Medieval Europe resulted in her being one of only a few ancient women praised for their writing in Giovanni Boccaccio's De mulieribus claris published in 1362. He describes her as being a woman with an estimable knowledge of literature (notitia literarum), who devoted her intellect to a worthy project.382

As literary phenomena, therefore, these female-authored texts are defined through their complexities. Each work draws on understandings about genre and authorial gender through multiple levels. Within each text it is possible to identify the assimilation of two or more original genre forms, along with the nascent forms of newly developing Christian genres. The resulting intertextual dialogue appears to function as a source of liberation for the writer, wherein the strictures of form become loosened, and the writer gains a platform that hitherto did not exist. In addition to this, the newly created platforms are nothing if not strange. The extant texts function on the extreme edges of the Roman literary canon. Unlike the sort of genre exploration done by writers (all male) who bring aspects of tragedy into lyric poetry, or who reference elegiac topics in epic form, these texts shy away from the central forms of Roman literature both in original genre and in the genre that is produced.

379 K. Schenkl, Cento Vergilianus de Laudibus Chritii: Poetae Christiani Minores, 561. 380 On Eudocia and the possible connections to Proba, see above Chapter One, 80-81. On the differences between Virgilian and Homeric cento, see Z. Pavlovskis, “Proba and the Semiotics of the Narrative Virgilian Cento,” Vergilius 35 (1989), 72-75. 381 J. Stevenson, Women Latin Poets: Language, Gender, and Authority, from Antiquity to the Eighteenth Century (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 69. 382 G. Boccaccio, De Mulieribus Claris, XCVII. On his treatment of Proba see p. 259 below.

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Authorial voice is equally obfuscated. The texts demonstrate the inclusion of a masculine voice in varying manners. While in one instance the voice of the author appears very much under the control of a second, most likely masculine, author, in the other texts this masculine voice functions under the female directive. This inclusion of multiple voices of different genders has a precedent in the created female voices of authors like Vergil, Horace and Ovid, and may suggest an adaptive measure that a female author could use in order to account for her gender. The style of these created female voices may also be establishing a particular expectation for the style of the female authors, specifically, a tendency for emotional expression. Overall, as with the genre of these works, the gender of the text’s author lacks singularity.

Hence, ambiguity, more than any other feature, seems to be the defining characteristic of the extant Latin literary works of Roman women. The question that arises from this is obvious, but far from simple to answer. Do these extant texts reflect a conscious effort by their authors to create works that fall within the identified parameters and so would be widely accepted, or are they extant because the Roman audience was particularly receptive to them because they happened to have been written in this fashion? In other words, were the parameters of successful female voice understood by the authors, or were they understood by the audience? This question will be explored in the following chapters in two ways. Chapter Four will examine the issue of public voice for Roman women and the patterns for positive and negative reception towards the female public voice in the broader scope of Roman history. Chapter Five will explore the connection between female public voice and early Christianity more specifically.

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What can be concluded at this point from an examination of the texts of Perpetua,

Proba and Egeria is that each work appears to possess a similar set of parameters. Each author holds a significant status and a highly public role in society. Each chooses a genre that brings with it an understanding of authority and instruction. Hence, genre and status reinforce one another to magnify the public, didactic nature of each work. The authors are equally comparable through the ambiguous and mutable natures of their texts. Neither authorial identity or textual genre are firmly distinct; rather, there is a demonstrable degree of mediation in terms of feminine and masculine voice, in terms of generic modification, and in terms of intertexual dialogue between literary women and authorial women. Combined, these elements form a corpus of work that is far more complex than might initially be suspected, and, also, even more anomalous in the literary canon than they are generally regarded as being.

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CHAPTER THREE: FEMALE EDUCATION IN THE LATE ROMAN WORLD

This chapter examines the educational paths and opportunities that were available to Roman women in the late Roman world. There can be no doubt that Roman women writers were educated. Both the extant and the non-extant works indicate a tradition of literate women. Such a statement is, however, at odds with the general understanding that

Roman women were largely excluded from the educational opportunities available to men.383 From this, it seems necessary to reassess and re-identify the possibilities for education that were open to women, particularly in Late Antiquity.384 More specifically, this chapter will outline a view of female education that argues for what might be termed domus-centered learning, in which female participation as students, teachers, and adult learners is generally tethered to a domus rather than a formal school. While this chapter will involve the major Roman female authors, it will also include a wider range of female

383 This problematic dichotomy is well stated in E. E. Best, “Cicero, and Educated Roman Women,” The Classical Journal 65:5 (1970), 199. Female education is largely ignored in standard reference works on Roman education such as H. I. Marrou, Histoire de l’Éducation dans l’Antiquitié (Paris: Seuil, 1965); M. L. Clarke, Higher Education in the Ancient World (London: Routledge, 1971), and S. F. Bonner, Education in Ancient Rome: From the Elder Cato to the Younger Pliny (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1977). It is interesting to note that S. A. Stofferahn, “A Schoolgirl and Mistress Felhin: A Devout Petition from Ninth-Century Saxony,” in Women Writing Latin, vol. 2, ed. L. J. Churchill, P. H. Brown and J. E. Jeffrey (New York: Routledge, 2002), 25, points to a similar dichotomy for Carolingian women and education wherein the educated women in seen by scholars as exceptional, but in reality were a common and accepted element of the period. 384 By far the most thorough treatment on female education in Rome to date is E. A. Hemelrijk, Matrona Docta: Educated women in the Roman elite from Cornelia to Julia Domna. For a slight expansion on the education of women in philosophical studies see B. M. Levick, “Women, Power, and Philosophy at Rome and Beyond,” in Philosophy and Power in the Graeco-Roman World: Essays in Honour of Miriam Griffin, ed. G. Clark and T. Rajak (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 133-155. Additional examples of educated Republican women can be found in E. E. Best, “Cicero, Livy and Educated Roman Women,” 199-204. On the education of specific women, see, for example, P. R. McKechnie, “St. Perpetua and Roman Education in A.D. 200.” It should be noted that very little work has been done on female education in Rome beyond the early 3rd century AD.

133 figures, both temporally and geographically, in order to better contextualize the state of education in Late Antiquity as it pertained to women and to argue for a large degree of continuity between Republic, Imperial, and early Christian female educations.

Roman Women and Roman Education: Perceptions and Possibilities

As with their male counterparts, elite women had far greater opportunities for formal education than women lower in the social hierarchy. However, unlike men of similar status, aristocratic women often had to engage in complex negotiations between education and marriage. The standard interpretation of the course of Roman education and the standard interpretation of the course of a Roman woman’s life tend to make the possibility of the former incongruous with the latter. Roman education was comprised of three phases: an elementary education taught by a magister ludi, where reading, writing and basic arithmetic were learned, a grammar phase taught by a grammaticus, where literature was studied in depth, and a rhetorical phase where rhetoric was taught.385 The first phase was entered into around the age of seven and completed around eleven, the second phase ended around the age of sixteen, and the final phase somewhere around the

385 For a general introduction to the stages of Roman education, see R. A. Kaster, Guardians of Language: The Grammarian and Society in Late Antiquity (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988), 11-12, J. Christes, “Education,” Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2011). For a more detailed overview of the educational system as a whole, see W. M. Bloomer, The School of Rome: Latin Studies and the Origins of Liberal Education (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2011), and S. F. Bonner, Education in Ancient Rome: From the Elder Cato to the Younger Pliny, especially 34-75. On Roman education from the perspective of the student, see, most recently, C. Laes, Children in the Roman Empire: Outsiders Within (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 107-147. For further discussion on the historiography of Roman education, see Y. L. Too, “Writing the History of Ancient Education,” in Education in Greek and Roman Antiquity, ed. Y. L. Too (Boston: Brill, 2001), 1-22.

134 age of twenty.386 However, the majority of women married around the age of 14, before they had finished their grammar courses, on account of which it is often suggested that marriage interrupted and even ended the education of many girls.387 Thus while basic literacy is considered the norm for girls of elite families, the possibility of further study is considered quite rare, since girls are recognized as having left behind their childhood things like dolls and tutors upon the assumption of their marital duties.388 Therefore, marriage is generally regarded as a restricting force that limits girls to less advanced studies, in particular for those who marry early in their teens.389

It cannot be denied that marriage had a significant impact on the educational course of a girl; however, it is a mistake to suppose that it marked an endpoint for female education. In broad terms there are three, by no means mutually exclusive, ways through which women could further their studies after marriage. There is evidence to support the view that education continued under the direction of a husband, through a hired tutor, and

386 R. A. Kaster, Guardians of Language: The Grammarian and Society in Late Antiquity, 11-12. 387 The age of marriage is still a topic of debate but there is a general consensus that girls from the Roman elite married considerably younger than those of the lower classes. See E. A. Hemelrijk, Matrona Docta: Educated women in the Roman elite from Cornelia to Julia Domna, 9, 28-30; B. D. Shaw, “The Age of Roman Girls at Marriage: Some Reconsiderations,” Journal of Roman Studies 77 (1987), 30-46; S. Treggiari, Roman Marriage: Iusti Coniuges from the Time of Cicero to the Time of Ulpian (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991), 39-43, 398-403; R. P. Saller, Patriarchy, Property and Death in the Roman Family (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 25- 42. 388 On the dedication of dolls prior to marriage, see K. K. Hersch, The Roman Wedding: Ritual and Meaning in Antiquity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 65-68. For the continuation of this tradition into Christianity, see C. B. Horn and J. W. Martens, Let the Little Child Come to Me: Childhood and Children in Early Christianity (Washington: Catholic University of America Press, 2009), 189. 389 R. Cribiore, Gymnastics of the Mind: Greek Education in Hellenistic and Roman Egypt (Princeton: Princeton University Press 2001), 75-76; R. S. Kraemer, “Women’s Authorship of Jewish and Christian Literature in the Greco-Roman Period,” in “Women Like This” New Perspectives on Jewish Women in the Greco-Roman World, ed. A. J. Levine (Atlanta: Scholar’s Press, 1991), 229; S. Pomeroy, Goddesses, Whores, Wives and Slaves: Women in Classical Antiquity (New York: Schocken, 1975), 170.

135 in the management of the education of their children. The presence of such diverse opportunities suggests that rather than attempting to fit girls into the current model of the

Roman educational path, perhaps it is more constructive to develop an alternative interpretation for female education that is less committed to the strictures and guidelines of the traditional three-stage education followed by males. Indeed, it seems unrealistic to expect female education to precisely parallel that of boys, when girls generally faced a different set of challenges and expectations. Therefore, any study of the education of elite women requires an exploration of the various methods by which women continued their studies after marriage, for the purpose of a reassessment of the nature of female education in Rome and the role of marriage within it.

There are various examples of women whose educations continued under the supervision of their husbands. Educating one’s wife seems to have been an effort deemed wholly appropriate and was even encouraged.390 In such instances the emphasis of study often seems to have been focused within the interests of the husband more than on any general completion of a grammar course or advanced education. For example, Pliny the

Younger, who married Calpurnia391 in her early or mid teens (when he was in his forties), took up the education of his young wife, with a particular focus on cultivating her understanding of literature. While he describes the bulk of her studies as being focused

390E. A. Hemelrijk, Matrona Docta: Educated women in the Roman elite from Cornelia to Julia Domna, 36. 391 The marriage took place around AD 104. For a general introduction to Calpurnia and her family, see W. C. McDermott, “ and Inscriptions,” The Classical World 65 (1971-2), 509-510. For further bibliography on her, see E. A. Hemelrijk, Matrona Docta: Educated women in the Roman elite from Cornelia to Julia Domna, 236, n. 57.

136 upon his own works,392 the point is not lost that Calpurnia is participates in literary studies through her husband. From Pliny also comes mention of another woman educated by her husband, the wife of Pompeius Saturninus.393 Pliny describes a visit with

Saturninus in which Saturninus read him a selection of letters

Which he said were written by his wife, but sounded to me like Plautus or Terence in prose. Whether they are really his wife’s (as he positively affirms) or his own (which he denies), he deserves equal applause; whether for writing them himself, or for having so cultivated and refined the talent of his wife, who was but a girl when he married her.394

Discussions that have mentioned these two women emphasize that they serve as ideals of women put forward by Pliny to demonstrate a good marriage. That is to say, their portrayal as women devoted to, guided by and, in fact, shaped by their husbands, is a literary creation more than an accurate description of daily life.395 This idealization is not a point of contention. However, if Pliny is drawing upon the ideal of a marital relationship for his descriptions, it is a telling piece of evidence about the general

392 Pliny, Ep. 4.19, remarks about Calpurnia, “Her affection for me, moreover, has given her an interest in books. My writings, which she takes pleasure in reading, and even learning by heart, are continually in her hands.” (Accedit his studium litterarum, quod ex mei caritate concepit. Meos libellos habet, lectitat, ediscit etiam.) 393 On Pompeius Saturninus, see A. N. Sherwin-White, The Letters of Pliny: A Historical and Social Commentary (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1966), 103. 394 Pliny, Ep. 1.16: Legit mihi nuper epistulas; uxoris esse dicebat. Plautum vel Terentium metro solutum legi credidi. Quae sive uxoris sunt ut affirmat, sive ipsius ut negat, pari gloria dignus, qui aut illa componat, aut uxorem quam virginem accepit, tam doctam politamque reddiderit. 395 Pliny’s creation of an ‘ideal’ wife is treated at length in J. M. Carlon, Pliny’s Women (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), esp. 157-163. Carlon’s argument follows J. Shelton, "Pliny the Younger and the Ideal Wife," Classica & Mediaevalia 41(1990), 163-86. The emphasis on Pliny’s idealization of women is change from previous scholarship, which tended to accept Pliny’s descriptions of women at face value. See, for example, E. E. Dobson, "Pliny the Younger's Depiction of Women," The Classical Bulletin 58 (1982), 81-85. On Pliny’s choice of language to emphasis his happy marriage see A. Maniet, “Pline le Jeune et Calpurnia,” L'antiquite classique 35 (1966), 149-185.

137 prevalence of husbands encouraging wives to continue their studies, or at least the expectation that they might do so.396 It should also be noted that such assumptions are centered on a woman’s first marriage, when she could easily still be completing her grammar course at the time of her marriage. Even in cases where husbands are noted for curtailing the studies of their wives there is the suggestion that the women were pursuing some continuation of education through their husbands. , writing to his mother Helvia, remarks:

But, so far as the old-fashioned strictness of my father permitted you, though you have not indeed fully grasped all the liberal arts, still you have had some dealings with them. Would that my father, truly the best of men, had surrendered less to the practice of his forefathers, and had been willing to instruct you in knowledge of the teachings of philosophy instead of a mere smattering!397

While Helvia’s ongoing education is cast in a restrictive light, it is interesting to note that her studies had advanced into philosophy, and, while they were limited, they did occur.398

396 On this point I follow E. A. Hemelrijk, Matrona Docta: Educated women in the Roman elite from Cornelia to Julia Domna, 33-34. 397Sen. De Consolatione ad Helviam, 17.3-4 (trans. Loeb, modified by Hemelrijk): Itaque illo te duco quo omnibus qui fortunam fugiunt confugiendum est, ad liberalia studia: illa sanabunt uulnus tuum, illa omnem tristitiam tibi euellent. His etiam si numquam adsuesses, nunc utendum erat; sed quantum tibi patris mei antiquus rigor permisit, omnes bonas artes non quidem comprendisti, attigisti tamen. Vtinam quidem uirorum optimus, pater meus, minus maiorum consuetudini deditus uoluisset te praeceptis sapientiae erudiri potius quam inbui! On the Ad Helviam see also P. A. Holloway, “Gender and Grief: Seneca’s Ad Marciam and Ad Helviam Matrem,” in Women and Gender in Ancient Religions: Interdisciplinary Approaches, ed. S. P. Ahearne-Kroll, P. A. Holloway and J. A. Kelhoffer (Tübingen: Morh Siebeck, 2010), 313-318. For other consolations of women, see Seneca’s Ad Marciam, ’s Ad Uxorem, ’ Silvae 2.7 and Ps. Ovidian’s Consolatio ad Liviam. 398 It should be noted that Seneca the younger seems also to be referring to a prejudice towards female education in his father’s generation that he himself does not have. On this point one must consider Seneca’s own Stoic beliefs. On Stoic egalitarianism see below n. 418. Conversely, it should be noted that not all scholars think that Seneca displays gender equality, see, for example,

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What seems to emerge from the sources, be they positive or negative descriptions about the learning of a wife, is the high level of involvement a husband was expected to have in the education of his wife, especially if he married a girl in her teens. Therefore, on a conceptual level, marriage did not mark the end of female education, since there seems to have been an expectation, at least among some, that the next phase of a woman’s education would be continued by her husband.

Women were also able to engage private tutors for themselves. Among the most famous is, of course, the tutor of Attica, Q. Caecilius Epirota, who came to finish Attica’s education after her marriage to Marcus Agrippa. Attica, who was fourteen at the time of her marriage, presumably was studying with Epirota to complete her grammar course.399

The tendency of women to maintain private tutors is also suggested in , who writes a mockery of precisely these kinds of women.

After all, one could perhaps put up with the conduct of the men. But the women–! That is another thing women are keen about– to have educated men living in their households on a salary and following their litters. They count it as an embellishment if they are said to be cultured, to have an interest in philosophy and to write songs that are hardly inferior to Sappho’s. To that end they too trail hired rhetoricians and grammarians and philosophers along, and listen to their lectures– when? It is ludicrous!– either while their toilet is being made and their hair dressed, or at dinner; at other times they are too busy! And often while the philosopher is delivering a discourse, the maid comes in and

C. E. Manning, “Seneca and the Stoics on the Equality of the Sexes,” Mnemosyne 26 (1973), 170- 177. 399 Suet. Gramm. 16: “While he [Epirota] was teaching his patron’s daughter, who was married to Marcus Agrippa, he was suspect towards her and was removed from there” (Cum filiam patroni nuptam M. Agrippae doceret, suspectus in ea et ob hoc remotus). It appears that while teaching Attica, Epirota came under suspicion for improper behavior and was removed from his post. For further discussion on Epirota, see K. Quinn, “The poet and his audience in the Augustan age,” Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt II 30:1 (1982), 110-112; M. L. Clark, Higher Education in the Ancient World (London: Routledge, 1971), 19-20.

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hands her a note from her lover, so that the lecture on chastity is kept waiting until she has written a reply to the lover and hurries back to hear it.400

While such a commentary is less than flattering as to the serious interest such women had in study, it should be noted that Lucian names both rhetoricians and philosophers alongside grammarians as being employed by women. This is significant because it suggests that women were pursuing advanced education on their own accord.401

Admittedly, the satirical comments of Lucian do not necessarily prove what is actually happening in Roman society, but here his perspective is reinforced by an extant letter between a philosopher and his student. The Enchiridion Harmonicon,402 a long letter that explains the Pythagorean theory of harmonics, which was written by the Greek philosopher Nicomachus of Gerasa to a Roman woman who was studying with him.403

Although the identity of the woman is unknown, there is nothing to suggest that she did

400 Lucian, Merc. Cond. 36 (trans. Loeb): Καίτοι φορητὰ ἴσως τ τῶν ἀνδρῶν. αἱ δὲ οῦν γυναῖκες– καὶ γὰρ αὖ καὶ τόδε ὐπὸ τῶν γυναικῶν σπουδάζεται, τὸ εἶνα τινας αὐταῖς πεπαιδευµένους µισθοῦ ὐποελεῖς συνόντας καὶ τῷ φορείῳ έποµένους· ἕν γάρ τι καὶ τοῦτο τῶν ἅλλων καλλωπισµάτων αὐταῖς δοκεῖ, ἤν λέγηται ὡς πεπαιδευµέναι τέ εἰσιν καὶ φιλόσοφοι καί ποιοῦσιν ᾄσµατα οὐ πολὺ τῆς Ζαπφοῦς ἀποδέοντα – διὰ δή ταῦτα µισφωτοὺς καὶ αὗται περιάγονται ῥήτορας καὶ γραµµατικοὺς καὶ φιλοσόφπις, ἀκροῶνται δ᾿ αὐτῶν – πηνίκα; γελοῖον γάρ καὶ τοῦτο– ἤτοι µεταξὺ κοµµούµεναι καὶ τὰς κόµας παραπλεκόµεναι ἤ παρὰ τὸ δεῖπνον· ἄλλοτε γὰρ οὐκ ἄγουσι σχολήν. πολλάκις δὲ καὶ µεταξὺ τοῦ φιλοσόφου τι διεξιόντος ἠ ἅβρα προσελθοῦσα ὤρεξε παρὰ τοῦ µοιχοῦ γραµµάτιον, οἱ δὲ περὶ σωφροσύνης ἐκεῖνοι λόγοι ἑστᾶσι περιµένοντες, ἔστ᾿ ἂν ἐκείνη ἀντιγράψασα τῷ µοιχῷ ἐπαναδράµῃ πρὸς τὴν ἀκρόασιν. 401 On the correlation between satire and social reality, particularly pertaining to Lucian, see C. A. Knight, The Literature of Satire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 27-33. The idea that Lucian’s satire indicates actual social practice on a political level has been suggested by B. Baldwin, “Lucian as Social Satirist,” The Classical Quarterly, n. s., 11:2 (1961), 199-208, esp. 99. 402 The exact date of the Enchiridion Harmonicon is unknown, but it can be broadly dated to the second century AD. See M. Folkerts, “N. of Gerasa Neoplatonic mathematician, c. 100,” Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2012). 403 On Nicomachus, see A. Barker, Greek Musical Writings, vol. II: Harmonic and Acoustic Theory (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 254-269. For additional bibliography, see W. C. McDermott, “Plotina Augusta and Nicomachus of Gerasa,” Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte, 26:2 (1977), 192, n.1.

140 not exist.404 From this letter, really more of a brief handbook, a number of things can be surmised. Firstly, it shows that a Roman woman had engaged a philosopher for her studies. In the beginning of the letter Nichomachus comments that he was writing this treatise at her behest so that she might continue her studies in her absence from him.405

Even more directly, he goes on to state, “But now, to make my exposition easier to follow, I shall begin from the same place where I began my instruction when I was expounding these things to you in person.”406 Therefore, Nichomachus, at the time of the letter, was an established teacher of this woman. Secondly, the letter suggests that the woman was an established matrona of consequence. Nichomachus writes with great respect and humility to this woman, which would not be expected if the woman was in fact a young pupil still unwed. Thirdly, the nature of the letter shows the advanced material of this woman’s studies. Assumptions in the text take for granted her familiarity with arithmetical and geometrical theories, as well as the Aristoxenian tradition of

404 E. A. Hemelrijk, Matrona Docta: Educated women in the Roman elite from Cornelia to Julia Domna, 38, suggests that the unnamed woman was the wife of a provincial governor who had gone with her husband to one of the eastern provinces. Similar views are expressed by W. Haase in the chapter ‘Die Adressatin der Musiktheoretischen Lehreschrift’ in Untersuchungen zu Nikomachos von Gerasa (Karlsruhe: Grasser & Boscolo, 1982), 159-318, and by F. R. Levin, The Harmonics of Nicomachus and the Pythagorean Tradition (University Park, Penn.: American Philological Association (American Classical Studies 1), 1975), 17. Alternatively, McDermott, “Plotina Augusta and Nicomachus of Gerasa,” 201-203, suggests that the recipient of the letter could be Plotina Augusta. 405 Nichomachus, Ench. 1 (Musici Scriptores Graeci (MSG) 237.15-238.12). πᾶσαν ὅµως ἐπιρρωστὲον ἐστί µοι σπουδὴν σοῦ γε κελευούσης, ἀρίστη καὶ σεµνοτάτη γυναικῶν, κἂν αὐτὰ ψιλὰ τὰ κεφὰλαια χωρὶς κατασκευῆς καὶ ποικίλης ἀποδείξεως ἐκθέσθαι σοι κατ᾿ ἐπιδροµήν· ἴνα ὑπὸ µίαν ἔχουσα αὐτὰ σύνοψιν ἐγχειριδὶῳ τε ὡσανεὶ χρωµένη τῇ βραχείᾳ ταύτῃ ὑποσηµειώσει ὑποµιµνήσκῃ ἐξ αὐτῆς τῶν ἐν ἑκάστῳ καφαλαίῳ κατὰ πλάτος λεγοµένων τε καὶ διδασκοµένων. Θεῶν δὲ ἐπιτεπόντων αὐτίκα µάλα σχολῆς λαβόµενος καὶ τῆς ὁδοιπορίας ἀνάπαυσιν σχὼν συντάξω τέ σοι µείζονα καὶ ἀκριβεστέραν εἰσαγωγὴν περι αὐτῶν τούτων καὶ πλήρει τὸ λεγόµενον συλλογισµῷ διηρθρωµένην καὶ ἐν πλείοσι βιβλίοις, καὶ διὰ τῆς πρωτίστης ἀφορµῆς ἀποπέµψω, ἔνθα ἂν διάγειν ὑµᾶς πυνθανώµεθα. For an English translation see A. Barker, Greek Musical Writings, 248. 406 Nicomachus, Ench. 1 (MSG 238.12-15) (trans. Hemelrijk, 39): τὴν δὲ ἀρχὴν ἐκεῖθέν ποθεν ποιήσοµαι ῤᾴονος ἕνεκα παρακολουθήσεως, ὅθεν καὶ ἡνίκα ἐξηγούµην σοι περὶ αὐτῶν τούτων τὴν τῆς διδασκαλίας ἐποιηνσάµην ἀρχήν.

141 harmonics, while the entire letter is written in very complex Greek. 407 Therefore, the woman for whom the letter was intended was very well educated. Despite this,

Nichomachus apologizes for his lack of detail and promises a longer and more specific explanation when he can.

Forgive the hasty nature of this essay: as you are aware, you set me this task just as I was poised to go off on my journey: and with your accustomed great kindness and the thoughtfulness of your friends, accept it as a beginning and a friendly offering. You can expect, if the gods are favorable, a most thorough and altogether a most complete technical treatise on these matters, which I will send you as soon as the first opportunity arises.408

While this letter is only directed to one woman, it seems indicative of a larger trend for women to engage philosophers and intellectuals as teachers, especially when taken in conjunction with Lucian’s satire of learned women. Clearly, then, women could and did continue their studies, after marriage, into highly advanced fields.

Therefore, there is good evidence to suggest that women, while generally not formally becoming students in schools of rhetoric or philosophy, certainly did go on to study such fields, albeit through an alternative mode. In fact, rather than preventing such studies, marriage often seems to have been the means that allowed women to undertake advanced education, providing them with the independence to engage tutors in fields of their choosing.

407 E. A. Hemelrijk, Matrona Docta: Educated women in the Roman elite from Cornelia to Julia Domna, 40. 408 Nicomachus, Ench. 12 (MSG 265.1-8) (trans. A. Barker, Greek Musical Writings, 269): Τῆς δὲ γραφῆς τοιαύτης τῇ ἐπείξει συγγινώσκουσα – σύνοισθα γὰρ, ὅτι ἐν αὑτῇ τῇ ὁδεύσει µοι ἐπέταξας παντοίως µετεώρῳ– κατὰ τὸν ἠµερώτατόν σου τρόπον καὶ κοινῶν νοηµονέστατον ἀπόδεξαι µὲν ώς ἀπαρχήν τινα καὶ ἐξευµενισµόν, προσδέχου δὲ θεῶν ἐπιτρεπόντων πληρεστάτην καὶ παντοίως ἐντελεστάτην τὴν περὶ αὐτῶν τούτων τεχνολογίαν αὐτίκα µάλα σοι ὑπ᾿ ἐµοῦ πεµφθησοµένην µετὰ τῆς πρώτης ἀφορµῆς.

142

The wealth of opportunity that marriage provided for women to further their educations necessitates an adjustment of current understandings about the role that marriage played in female education, since it has previously been largely viewed as a limiting factor. To be sure, there were a multitude of factors that served to restrict education to select women. Whether and to what extent a girl was educated depended on her social position, the inclinations of her family and even where she lived. Familial wealth was probably the largest determinant of whether or not a girl received an education. Senatorial and wealthy equestrian families had the ability to hire private tutors for their daughters, since such public education as was open to girls could offer little more than primary instruction and even these opportunities were limited.409 Thus, female education tends to be viewed as a phenomenon of upper-class women. It is difficult, however, to identify familial wealth as a limiting factor for female education alone.

Rather, the resources of a family appear to have had an impact on the educational opportunities of all its children. Thus, it is important to recognize that the limiting of education to elite women is equally reflected in the limiting of education to elite men.

What does seem to have been a gender-specific impediment is the varying attitudes towards the necessity of advanced education for women. Conservative families who were opposed to educating daughters are occasionally attested. Such opposition may have stemmed from the idea that education encouraged sexual promiscuity in women.

409 On the limits of Roman public schools, see, most recently, C. Laes, Children in the Roman Empire, 108-109; W. M. Bloomer, The School of Rome: Latin Studies and the Origins of Liberal Education, 191, 195-196; R. Cribiore, Gymnastics of the Mind: Greek Education in Hellenistic and Roman Egypt, 18-21. The use of tutors for girls is discussed in K. Vössing, “Koedukation und öffentliche Kommunikation: Warum Mädchen vom höheren Schulunterricht Roms ausgeschlossen waren,” Klio 86:1 (2004), 126-140. On the absence of female students in schools of rhetoric, see R. Cribiore, The School of in Late Antique Antioch (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2007), 31-32.

143

Sallust, in his treatment of Sempronia, makes implicit the connection between her education and her sexual promiscuity.410 He notes that she was “educated in Greek and

Roman literature” (litteris Graecis et Latinis docta) but that she put no value on honor or chastity (sed ei cariora semper omnia quam decus atque pudicitia fuit). A similar rhetoric is employed by Tacitus in his treatment of Poppaea, who is noted for her intellect and then condemned for her promiscuity.411 Female education also had the danger of producing women that were better educated than their husbands. Juvenal is blunt in his dislike of women who correct their husbands on points of learning, imploring such women to let their husbands err in peace (oloecismum liceat fecisse marito).412 Likewise,

Martial included in a description of a peaceful life a wife that was not well educated (sit non doctissima coniunx).413 Thus, the mixed perspectives on female education resulted in differing opportunities for girls compared to boys, for whom an education was not a questionable or potentially negative thing to possess. Parents often went to great lengths to further their sons’ educations.414 Daughters less often received full financial and familial support. However, the number of women who are noted for continuing their studies after marriage or for being well educated, or who have left a tangible record of their learning, suggests that female education, in actuality, was commonplace.415 It seems

410 Sallust, Cat. 25; Cicero, Sest. 116; Tacitus, Ann. 13.45-46. 411 Tacitus, Ann. 13.45: Sermo comis nec absurdum ingenium. modestiam praeferre et lascivia uti. 412 Juvenal, Sat. 6.448-456. 413 Martial, Epig. 2.90.9-10. While Juvenal and Martial both approach this issue through satire, their mockery certainly implies that the overeducated wife was a potential source of amusement. This suggests the existance of an underlying reality of female education that provided a basis for such works. 414 R. Cribiore, Gymnastics of the Mind: Greek Education in Hellenistic and Roman Egypt, 75, 111. 415 For a survey of female writers, see I. M. Plant, Women Writers in Ancient Greece and Rome. For an in-depth study of a leading female intellectual, see B. Levick, Julia Domna, Syrian

144 not that girls were not educated, but rather that their educations took a more fluid and perhaps in some cases a less direct course.

That the educational paths of elite men and women were not symmetrical should not be a surprise. The goals of education were dramatically different for girls than for boys. Boys entered into education with the purpose of becoming orators. Girls were not being trained to this end; for them, education often was a means of increasing their appeal as wives.416 To some men, a trained mind enhanced the desirability of a girl:

The young woman had many charms apart from her youthful beauty. She was well versed in literature, in playing the lyre, and in geometry, and had been accustomed to listen to philosophical discourses with profit. In addition to this, she had a nature which was free from that unpleasant officiousness which such accomplishments are apt to impart to young women.417

In fact, an educated girl was often considered to make the best kind of wife, as she brought polish, charm and sensibility. The first century Stoic philosopher Musonius

Rufus went to far as to suggest that all women should be trained in philosophy, since this

Empress (New York: Routledge, 2007). Many women are also discussed in E. A. Hemelrijk, Matrona Docta: Educated women in the Roman elite from Cornelia to Julia Domna. 416 J. Stevenson, Women Poets: Language, Gender, and Authority, from Antiquity to the Eighteenth Century, 62. 417 Plutarch, Life of Pompey, 55 (trans. Loeb): ἐνῆν δὲ τῇ κόρῃ πολλὰ φὶλτρα δίχα τῶν ἀφ᾿ ὥρας. καὶ γὰρ περὶ γάρµµατα καλῶς ἤσκητο καὶ περὶ λύραν καὶ γεωµετρίαν, καὶ λόγων φιλοσόφων εἴθιστο χρησίµως ἀκούειν. καὶ προσῆν τούτοις ἦθος ἀνδίας καὶ περιεργίας καθρηόν, ἃ δὴ νέαις προστρίβεται γυναιξὶ τὰ τοιαῦτα µαθήµατα. The girl described here is Cornelia, the wife of Pompey and the daughter of Metellus Scipio. It is interesting to note that Pompey was Cornelia’s second husband. It should also be noted here that this statement of praise nevertheless refers to the same potential for unwelcome interference found in the examples of Juvenal and Martial discussed above.

145 allowed for a happy and harmonious marriage.418 In particular, he thought that a woman educated in philosophy would better manage the household and be more accepting of her circumstances (whatever they may be).419 Therefore, female education, conceptually, was focused on the preparation of a girl for marriage, rather than for a career in public office, as it was with boys of the upper classes. This division is reflected in the different authors on the reading lists for boys and girls during their studies. Ovid, in his Ars Amatoria, has a list of authors he sees as suitable for women to study. All are poets; subject matters range from elegiac poems on the foundations of cities to lyric poems on love. In essence he provides a corpus of material that offers charm and an ability to entertain using a variety of subjects.420 Compare this to the material Quintilian sees as necessary for boys

418 For the complete translation of Musonius Rufus’ lecture on the importance of training women in philosophy, see Musonius Rufus, Musonius Rufus, the Roman Socrates, ed. and trans. Cora E. Lutz (Yale Classical Studies 10, New Haven: Yale University Press, 1947), 43-49. For an introduction to Musonius Rufus see B. Inwood, “Musonius,” Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2011). Musonius thought that men and women both required education as this was necessary for the development of virtue. On the stoic belief in equal education, see J. T. Dillon, Musonius Rufus and Education in the Good Life: A Model of Teaching and Living Virtue (Lanham: University Press of America, 2004), 25-26; E. Asmis, “The Stoics on Women,” in Feminism and Ancient Philosophy, ed. J. Ward (London: Routledge, 1996), 68-94; W. Klassen, “Musonius Rufus, Jesus and Paul: Three First Century Feminists,” in From Jesus to Paul: Studies in Honour of Francis Wright Beare, ed. P. Richardson and J. Hurd (Waterloo: Wilfred Laurier University Press, 1984), 185-204. 419 Musonius Rufus, Musonius Rufus, the Roman Socrates, 420 Ovid, Ars Amatoria, 3. 329-348 (trans. J. L. May, The Love Books of Ovid, 1930): “You should also learn Callimachus by heart, and Philetas and Anacreon, who loved his drop of wine. And Sappho too; for what is more exciting than her verse? Then there's the poet who tells us about a father being hoodwinked by the crafty Geta. You might also read the verses of the tender- souled Propertius, and the poems of my beloved Tibullus, and something out of Gallus, or the poem Varro wrote about the golden fleece so bitterly lamented, Phrixus, by thy sister; and the story of the fugitive, Aeneas, and the origins of lofty Rome; for Latium boasts no prouder masterpiece than that. And peradventure shall my name with theirs be numbered, and my writings shall not be given over to the waters of Lethe, and perchance someone will say, ‘Read o’er these dainty lines wherein our Master gives instruction both to men and women; or choose, in those three books, the which he calls the Loves, passages which you will read with sweetly modulated voice; or, if thou wilt, declaim with skill one of those letters from his Heroines, a kind of work unknown before his time and whereof he himself was the inventor.’ Hear my prayers, O Phoebus, hear them, mighty Bacchus, and you, ye , divine protectresses of poets” (Sit tibi

146 to study: lyric poetry with no hint of licentiousness, no elegiac poetry, Homer, Virgil, and a huge list of the works of orators, poets, historians and philosophers.421 Therefore, not only did marriage cause a shift in the forms of education available to a woman, it also had an impact on her early studies.

Therefore, at least in terms of ideals, marriage and female education were intertwined. If female education is actually built around marriage, if education is considered a desirable trait in a wife, then it is necessary to completely redefine the role marriage had in female education. Most importantly, marriage cannot be used as a restrictive factor, since it would appear that marriage was a driving force behind female education. Thus, it seems that previous scholarship, by measuring female education against a standard male education, has often regarded the differences as limitations, which has led to an overemphasis on elements that may have restricted female education, and to a certain blindness towards a thriving tradition of education. Rather than setting

Callimachi, sit Coi nota poetae,/ Sit quoque vinosi Teia Musa senis;/ Nota sit et Sappho (quid enim lascivius illa?),/ Cuive pater vafri luditur arte Getae. Et teneri possis carmen legisse Properti, / Sive aliquid Galli, sive, Tibulle, tuum: Dictaque Varroni fulvis insignia villis / Vellera, germanae, Phrixe, querenda tuae: Et profugum Aenean, altae primordia Romae,/ Quo nullum Latio clarius extat opus. Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis, / Nec mea Lethaeis scripta dabuntur aquis:/ Atque aliquis dicet 'nostri lege culta magistri / Carmina, quis partes instruit ille duas: Deve tribus libris, titulus quos signat Amorum,/ Elige, quod docili molliter ore legas: Vel tibi composita cantetur Epistola voce: / Ignotum hoc aliis ille novavit opus.' O ita, Phoebe, velis! ita vos, pia numina vatum,/ Insignis cornu Bacche, novemque deae!) Despite Ovid’s satirical tone, critics tend to accept this list as a genuine example of a reading course for Roman women. See, for example, R. K. Gibson, Ovid: Ars Amatoria Book 3 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 230-231. Gibson follows Hemelrijk, Matrona Docta, 199, in seeing this list of authors as a legitimate example of a female-specific reading list, intended to make a woman entertaining to men. On the necessary realism of the women in the Ars, see A. S. Hollis, “The Ars Amatoria and Remedia Amoris,” in Ovid, ed. J. W. Binns (London: Routledge, 1973), 97. For an introduction to the Ars more generally, see S. Harrison, “Ovid and Genre: Evolutions of an Elegist,” in The Cambridge Companion to Ovid, ed. P. Hardie (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 82-84. 421 See Quintilian, Inst. Orat. 10.1 for a detailed list of authors.

147 marriage and education at odds, the two concepts actually work together to dictate the course of female education.

In other words, marriage provides a transitional moment for the education of a girl, but certainly not an end. For girls who married early, educations could be completed either by their husbands or by hired tutors, such as with Attica. For others, marriage led into specialized or advanced studies, such as Calpurnia with poetry and the unnamed recipient of Nicomachus’ letter with philosophy. The course of education for girls was different from that for boys, and far more adaptable. Yet, because so many girls married in their teens, it would be more surprising if a system that made accommodations for this had not developed . That women had a number of opportunities to continue their educations following marriage is ultimately reflective of an educational system that served to foster female education far more than to inhibit it, and it demonstrates one particular aspect of the complexity of both the Roman educational system and women’s participation within it.

A key element that emerges from the study of female education is the physical location of schooling. That is to say, boys went to their teachers, girls’ teachers came to them. A far greater proportion of a girl’s education seems to have taken place in a domestic setting. The establishment of the domus as a place of study situates women within the roles of both student and teacher. Family members often served as teachers for girls.

This introduces a third way in which women could be involved in education.

Within the family mothers also appear to be highly involved in their children’s educations. The fact that women were responsible for overseeing the education of their

148 children is mentioned in several instances. However, the implication this had on the education of the women themselves has not really been highlighted. The selection and supervision of teachers for their children by mothers who might even assist those teachers suggests that women were a much stronger force in the classroom than is generally recognized. Cicero mentions that Cornelia determined the educational course of her sons,

Gracchus had the advantage of being carefully instructed by his mother Cornelia from his very childhood, and his mind was enriched with all the stores of Greek literature: for he was constantly attended by the ablest masters from Greece, and particularly, in his youth, by Diophanes of Mytilene, who was the most eloquent Greek of his age. 422

Agrippina is mentioned by Tacitus as being involved both in the securing of

Seneca as Nero’s tutor and in the removal of Britannicus’ best tutors.423 Tacitus also mentions the role that Agricola’s mother played in his education. “His mother was Julia

Procilla, a woman of rare virtue. Educated under her loving care: he spent his childhood and youth in the cultivation of all liberal accomplishments…”424 The role a mother took in educating her children was not a passive one. Women, clearly, did more than just ensure that their children received an education, they actually shape those early

422 Cicero, Brut. 104 (trans. E. Jones): Fuit Gracchus diligentia Corneliae matris a puero doctus et Graecis litteris eruditus. nam semper habuit exquisitos e Graecia magistros, in eis iam adulescens Diophanem Mytilenaeum Graeciae temporibus illis disertissumum. 423 Tacitus, Annals, 12.8 (trans. Loeb): “Agrippina, that she might not be conspicuous only by her evil deeds, procured for Annæus Seneca a remission of his exile, and with it the prætorship. She thought this would be universally welcome, from the celebrity of his attainments, and it was her wish too for the boyhood of Domitius to be trained under so excellent an instructor, and for them to have the benefit of his counsels in their designs on the throne” (At Agrippina, ne malis tantum facinoribus notesceret, veniam exilii pro Annaeo Seneca, simul praeturam impetrat, laetum in publicum rata ob claritudinem studiorum eius, utque Domitii pueritia tali magistro adolesceret et consiliis eiusdem ad spem dominationis uterentur…) See also Tacitus, Annals, 12.41. 424 Tacitus, Agr. 4.2: Mater Iulia Procilla fuit, rarae castitatis. In huius sinu indulgentiaque educatus per omnem honestarum artium cultum pueritiam adulescentiamque transegit.

149 educations themselves. Quintilian is a firm advocate of an educated mother; he remarks,

“As regards parents, I should like to see them as highly educated as possible, and I do not restrict this remark to fathers alone. We are told that the eloquence of the Gracchi owed much to their mother Cornelia, whose letters even today testify to the cultivation of her style.”425 According to Quintilian, then, a mother directly influenced what her children learned and owed it to them to be as educated as possible. Cicero, Tacitus and Quintilian present examples of mothers managing the educations of their sons, suggesting that these women were highly capable of leading at least elementary courses of education.

There are also a handful of references to children studying directly under their mothers. Returning to Seneca the Younger, and his consolation of his mother Helvia, the author lists some of the reasons his mother would mourn his banishment. “Where is his conversation, of which I [Helvia] never could have enough? His studies, in which I used to take part with more than a woman's eagerness, with more than a mother's familiarity?”426 According to Seneca, Helvia would be saddened to lose the opportunity to study with her son. Helvia is cast as an active participant in the philosophical studies of

Seneca. She is supportive and encouraging, but also learning alongside him.

Women studying with their mothers are also attested. In an epithalamium by

Claudian, the bride, Maria, is praised for her studies under her mother Serena.

425 Quintilian Inst. Orat. 1.1.6. (trans. Loeb): In parentibus vero quam plurimum esse eruditionis optaverim. Nec de patribus tantum loquor: nam Gracchorum eloquentiae multum contulisse accepimus Corneliam matrem, cuius doctissimus sermo in posteros quoque est epistulis traditus, et Laelia C. filia reddidisse in loquendo paternam elegantiam dicitur, et Hortensiae Q. filiae oratio apud triumviros habita legitur non tantum in sexus honorem. 426 Sen. Cons. Helv. 15.1 (trans. A. Stewart): Ubi conloquia, quorum inexplebilis eram? Ubi studia, quibus libentius quam femina, familiarius quam mater intereram?

150

But Maria, with no thoughts of wedlock nor knowing that the torches were being got ready, was listening with rapt attention to the discourse of her saintly mother, drinking in that mother’s nature and learning to follow the example of old-world chastity; nor does she cease under that mother’s guidance to unroll the writers of Rome and Greece, all that old Homer sang, or Thracian Orpheus, or that Sappho set to music with Lesbian quill…427

Two points arise from these examples. Firstly, as the level of their children’s education increases, so too does the mothers’. Helvia may have begun helping Seneca with his letters, Serena may have begun helping Maria with her Greek, but as they grew, their mothers continued to study with them. Secondly, particularly in instances like

Helvia’s, where a mother is educating sons, a woman is going through a full standard course of education with her child.

The examples above clearly situate the majority of female education within the parameters of the domus. Girls studied with parents or tutors in the home. After marriage they studied with husbands or tutors in the home. Upon having children they served as teachers to them and even as study partners while they were at home. Therefore, it is possible to identify a circumscription of location for female education, but to assume that this presents a complete lack in education itself is false. Roman women appear to have functioned within a highly literate context.

427 , Epithalamium of and Maria, 229-235 (trans. Loeb): Illa autem secura tori taedasque parari/ nescia divinae fruitur sermone parentis/ maternosque bibit mores exemplaque discit/ prisca pudicitiae Latios nec volvere libros/ desinit aut Graios, ipsa gentrice magistra,/ Maeonius quaecumque senex aut Thracius Orpheus/ aut Mytilenaeo modulatur pectine Sappho.

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Women Writers and Education in Late Antiquity

As established in Chapter One, women writers almost inevitably have elite identities. Their status, coupled with their obvious literary output, is highly suggestive that these women might have been educated in the manner outlined above. There is no doubt that Proba was the recipient of a classical education. Her familiarity with Virgil and the complexity of her poetry are indicative of literary training, and combined with a familial reputation for education, she stands as an equal in education to her male contemporaries.428 Proba’s learning implies that the pattern of elite female education continued into Late Antiquity. While it is not certain at what age she married, and whether she had completed her grammar course prior to this, her literary activities leave little doubt as to her continued studies as a married woman. Indeed, the fact that her composition was undertaken while she was a wife and mother is a further reinforcement of the alternative but fully functional course of education followed by elite women.

Likewise, Eudocia received her early education from her father, the philosopher

Leontius.429 Indeed, girls who were daughters of philosophers often became noted

428 On the general acceptance that Proba had a excellent knowledge of Virgil see, for example, J. E. Salisbury, Encyclopedia of Women in the Ancient World (Santa Barbara: ABC-CLIO, 2001), 288; J. M. Ziolkowski and M. C. Putnam (eds.), The Virgilian Tradition: The First Fifteen Hundred Years (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2008), 475. 429 Eudocia’s early education by her father is described in Socrates, History of the Church, 7.21 (PG 67.784). He notes that she was “the daughter of Leontius the Athenian sophist, she had been instructed in every kind of learning by her father” (ἧν γὰρ ἐλλόγιµος· Λεοντίου γὰρ τοῦ σοφιστοῦ τῶν ᾿Αθηνῶν θυγάτηρ οὖσα, ὑπὸ τῷ πατρὶ ἐπαιδεύθη, καὶ διὰ λόγων ἐληλύθει παντοίων). Later sources that discuss her early education expand on Socrates and name Eudocia an expert in many fields. See John Malalas, Chronographia, 353; Paschal Chronicle, s.a. 420; Theophanes, Chronicle, 5911; Cedrenus, Compendium of History, 1.590; Zonaras, Epitome of History, 13.22. These are conveniently collected in A. Ludwig, Eudociae Augustae, Procli Lycii, Claudiani Carminum Graecorum Reliquiae (Leipzig, 1897), n.3. For further discussion of these sources, see A. Cameron, “The Empress and the Poet: Paganism and Politics at the Court of Theodosius II,” 273.

152 intellectuals in their own right. Hypatia (d. 415), the late antique Alexandrian philosopher, rose to the head of her father’s school.430 Asclepigenia (fl. 430), the daughter of Plutarch of Athens, became the noted teacher of Proclus.431 This tradition extends back as early as the fourth century BC to Arete of Cyrene, who was educated by her father Aristippus and may have become the head of his school after his death.432

Eudocia illustrates the continuation into Late Antiquity of educational opportunities available to a girl born into a philosophical circle. Without traveling away from home, she very likely received the same education as those boys sent to Athens from elsewhere in the empire.

Perpetua seems also to have possessed a fair amount of education. She was literate, and so had received at least a basic level of education, and there is even the possibility that she was also literate in Greek.433

430 Socrates Scholasticus, Church History, 7.15. On Hypatia see also Chapter One, 84-85. 431 Marinus, Life of Proclus, 28. For additional context on women philosophers, see H. Harich- Schwarzbauer, "Women Philosophers," Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2011). It should be noted that the tradition of daughters being trained by philosopher parents extends even into the quasi-mythological realm as seen with the philosophers Myia, Arignote and Damo, who are said to have been taught by their parents and . , Life of Pythagoras, 4. 432 On Arete of Cyrene’s education, see Diogenes Laertius 2.72, 83, 86; Eusebius, Preparatio Evangelica, 14.18; , 17.3.22; Aelian, Nat. Anim. iii. 40; Theoderet, Therapeutike, 11.1; , Orationes, 21. 244. 433 This suggestion comes from J. Armitage Robinson, Passio Perpetua: Texts and Studies, 43-44. Robinson notes both the fact that Greek words appear in the greatest number in Perpetua’s section of the text and that Saturus tells us that Perpetua could speak Greek. Presumably, the inference that she could speak Greek comes from Saturus’ vision, during which Perpetua talks with the bishop Opatus, and addresses him as Papa (13.3). The tenuousness of this evidence has been commented on both by J. Amat, Passion de Perpétue et de Félicité, 193, and B. D. Shaw, “The Passion of Perpetua,” Past & Present 139 (1993), 12.

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It is worth noting here that despite their Christian associations, Perpetua, Proba and Eudocia almost certainly were not originally educated in the Christian tradition. That is to say, they were initially educated in non-Christian homes. However, even in known cases where women were educated from birth in a Christian family, the domus-centered style of education and the involvement of women appears to remain constant. Indeed,

Christian education does not seem to have done much to alter the role of women in the education of their children. In the Christian context examples can also be found of mothers directly involved in the education of their children. Augustine in his Confessions

(397/8) recounts the instrumental role his mother played in his education.

For in counseling me to chastity, she did not bear in mind what her husband had told her about me. And although she knew that my passions were destructive even then and dangerous for the future, she did not think they should be restrained by the bonds of conjugal affection--if, indeed, they could not be cut away to the quick. She took no heed of this, for she was afraid lest a wife should prove a hindrance and a burden to my hopes. These were not her hopes of the world to come, which my mother had in thee, but the hope of learning, which both my parents were too anxious that I should acquire--my father, because he had little or no thought of thee, and only vain thoughts for me; my mother, because she thought that the usual course of study would not only be no hindrance but actually a furtherance toward my eventual return to thee. This much I conjecture, recalling as well as I can the temperaments of my parents.434

434 Augustine, Confessions, 2.3.8 (PL 32.678) (trans. A. C. Outler): sed ibat in caeteris ejus tardior mater carnis meae, sicut monuit me pudicitiam, ita curavit quod de me a viro suo audierat, jamque pestilentiosum et in posterum periculosum sentiebat, coercere termino conjugalis affectus, si resecari ad vivum non poterat. Non curavit hoc, quia metus erat ne impediretur spes mea compede uxoria; non spes illa quam in te futuri saeculi habebat mater, sed spes litterarum, quas ut nossem nimis volebat parens uterque: ille, quia de te prope nihil cogitabat, de me autem inania; illa autem, quia non solum nullo detrimento, sed etiam nonnullo adjumento ad te adipiscendum futura existimabat usitata illa studia doctrinae. Ita enim conjicio, recolens, ut possum, mores parentum meorum. On Augustine’s mother, Monica, see A. Schindler, "Monnica," Brill's New Pauly. ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2011). On Augustine’s

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Later on, he comments on the concrete monetary support she offered for his studies, “It was not to sharpen my tongue further that I made use of that book. I was now nineteen; my father had been dead two years, and my mother was providing the money for my study of rhetoric. What won me in it [i.e., the Hortensius] was not its style but its substance...”435

Macrina, in the vita written by her brother (c.335-395), is also portrayed as studying under her mother.

The education of the child was her mother’s task; she did not however, employ the usual worldly method of education, which makes practice of using poetry as a means of training the early years of the child…but such parts of inspired Scripture as you would think were incomprehensible to young children were the subject of the girl’s studies…436

relationship with his mother, see F. B. A. Asiedu, “Following the Example of a Woman: Augustine's Conversion to Christianity in 386,” Vigiliae Christianae, 57:3 (2003), 276-306, esp. 293-294. On Augustine’s family and his mother Monica, see P. Clark, “Women, Slaves, and the Hierarchies of Domestic Violence: The Family of St. Augustine,” in Women and Slaves in Greco- Roman Culture: Differential Equations, ed. S. R. Joshel and S. Murnaghan (New York: Routlege, 1998), esp. 110-117. 435 Augustine, Confessions, 3.4.7 (PL 32.685) (trans. A. C. Outler): non enim ad acuendam linguam, quod videbar emere maternis mercedibus, cum agerem annum aetatis undevicensimum iam defuncto patre ante biennium, non ergo ad acuendam linguam referebam illum librum, neque mihi locutio sed quod loquebatur persuaserat. 436 Gregory of Nyssa, The Life of Macrina, 3.3-5 (PG 46.964) (trans. W.K. Lowther Clarke): Ἦν δέ τῇ µητρὶ σπουδὴ, παιδεῦσαι µὲν τὴν παῖδα· µὴ µεν τοι τὴν ἔξωθεν ταύτην καὶ ἐγκύκλιον παίδευσιν, ἥν, ὡς τὰ πολλὰ, διὰ τῶν ποιηµάτων αί πρῶται τῶν παιδωυοµένων ἡλικίαι διδάσκονταί…Ἀλλ᾿ ὅσα τῆς θεοπνεύστου Γραφῆς ἁληπτόρα ταῖς πρώταις ἡλικίαις δοκεῖ, ταῦτα ἦν τῇ παιδὶ τὰ µαθήµατα… For a general introduction to Macrina along with collected sources about her, see A. M. Silvas, Macrina the Younger. Philosopher of God (Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 2008). For an exploration of how the markings on Macrina’s breast symbolize God writing on her, see V. Burrus, “Macrina's Tattoo," in The Cultural Turn in Late Ancient Studies: Gender, Asceticism, and Historiography, ed. D. B. Martin and P. Cox Miller (Durham, NC: 2005), 103-116.

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While Augustine is pursuing a classical education and Macrina a much more specifically Christian education, both evidence strong involvement by Christian mothers in their studies.

Possibly the most specific outline of the role of an ideal Christian mother in the education of her children is outlined in a letter by Jerome to , who had written to ask him how to bring up her infant daughter.437 Jerome begins by advising Laeta to ground her daughter (Paula) in the fundamentals of reading and writing.

Get for her a set of letters made of boxwood or of ivory and call each by its proper name…And 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 by sound…Moreover, 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 table.438

Jerome describes an early childhood in which Laeta is specifically responsible for the training of her daughter’s mind. He then moves on to describe the kind of tutor she needs

437 On the Christian education of girls see J. Peterson, “The Education of Girls in Fourth-Century Rome,” in The Church and Childhood, ed. D. Wood (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994), 29-37. On Christian education more generally, particularly in relation to early schooling, see C. B. Horn and J. W. Martens, Let the Little Child Come to Me: Childhood and Children in Early Christianity, 116-119. 438 Jerome, Ep. 107.4 (PL 22.868-878) (trans. W.H. Fremantle, G. Lewis and W.G. Martley): Fiant ei litterae vel buxeae vel eburneae et suis nominibus appellentur. Ludat in eis, ut et lusus eius eruditio sit, et non solum ordinem teneat litterarum, et memoria nominum in canticum transeat, sed ipse inter se crebro ordo turbetur et mediis ultima, primis media misceantur, ut eas non sonu tantum, sed et visu noverit... Cum vero coeperit trementi manu stilum in cera ducere, vel alterius superposita manu teneri regantur articuli vel in tabella sculpantur elementa, ut per eosdem sulcos inclusa marginibus trahantur vestigia et foras non queant evagari. Syllabas iungat ad praemium, et, quibus illa aetas delectari potest, munusculis invitetur.

156 to select: “a man of approved years, life and learning.”439 Such a man, in conjunction with Laeta, will be responsible for developing a sophisticated and proper eloquence in her speech. This is no small task, for Laeta must demonstrate continually a language for her daughter to emulate, as Cornelia was said to have done in the early years of her sons,

Tiberius and Gaius Gracchus.

Laeta is also to be the examiner of the daily studies: “and let her task daily be to bring to you [Laeta] the flowers which she had culled from scripture. Let her learn by heart so many verses in the Greek, but let her be instructed in the Latin also.”440 Jerome goes on to list the specific works that Paula should study, first the Psalter, then the

Proverbs of Solomon, then the Gospel and the Acts of Apostles and the Epistles, leading up eventually to the Song of Songs.441 While Jerome openly acknowledges that his proffered educational course (complete with the suggestion to follow monastic hours, fasting and almost total isolation) is an ideal, he does not suggest that Laeta is herself unable to oversee the academic side of Paula’s education. As an educator, then, Laeta is literate, well trained in eloquence, conversant in Greek and Latin, and fully qualified to instruct her daughter in her scriptural studies as well as to select a tutor to contribute to her daughter’s training.442

439 Ibid: Magister probae aetatis et vitae atque eruditionis… 440 Jerome, Ep. 107.9 (PL 874-875) (trans. W.H. Fremantle, G. Lewis and W.G. Martley): Reddat tibi pensum cotidie scripturarum certum. Ediscat Graecorum versuum numerum. Sequatur statim et Latina eruditio… 441 Ibid. 12. 442 On the scriptural emphasis, see P. B. Katz, “Educating Paula: A Proposed Curriculum for raising a 4th-Century Christian Infant,” in Constructions of Childhood in Ancient Greece and Italy, ed. A. Cohen and J. B. Butler (The American School of Classical Studies at Athens, 2007), 115-127.

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Methods of early female education then appear to have remained relatively constant at least into the early fifth century. Girls were educated at home by parents and tutors and continued their studies to varying extents and in varying ways as married women.

Egeria and Female Illiteracy

While the works and identities of the majority of women writers easily argue for the presence of well-educated women in Late Antiquity, Egeria’s text is often taken to reflect quite the opposite. Though discussions surrounding Egeria have formed little consensus on her and her work, her use of Latin seems to provide a unifying point. At best, her Latin is described as “unusual”,443 at worst, a “language so slipshod and tedious that it hardly deserves to be put into good English.”444 Grammatically she is often wrong, stylistically she is inelegant and overall her Latin prose is a profoundly dissatisfying read.445 Even within the context of later Latin literature, her itinerarium has consistently been marked out for its very raw style.446 Colloquial, simplistic in language, and

443 J. Wilkinson, Egeria’s Travels, 2. 444 J. H. Bernard, The Pilgrimage of St. Silvia of Aquitania (London, 1891), 9. 445 H. Sivan, “Holy Land Pilgrimage and Western Audiences: Some Reflections on Egeria and Her Circle,” Classical Quarterly, n. s., 38: 2 (1988), 532. 446 It is perhaps best described by Bechtel, who remarked that “Egeria probably wrote just as she spoke.” E. A. Bechtel, Sanctae Silviae Peregrinatio. The Text and a Study of the Latinity (Studies in Classical Philology 4, Chicago, 1902). This attitude towards Egeria’s Latin continues even today. While the complexity of the content is more often recognized, criticisms of the Latin continue. See, for example, P. Dronke, Women Writers of the Middle Ages: A Critical Study of Texts from Perpetua to Marguerite Porete, 20; S. R. Frandsen, “L’Itinerarium Egeriae: Un Point de Vue Littéraire,” Classica et Mediaevalia 55 (2004), 164. M. B. Campbell, The Witness and the Other World: Exotic European Travel Writing, 400-1600, (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1988), 23, suggests that the text shows that Egeria was of “average” intelligence.

158 repetitive in detail, the Latin of the text argues for a woman with marginal Latin skills; a woman who possessed, at best, a middling education.

And yet, the contents of the itinerarium do not support these assumptions based on the Latin. In the first instance, internal evidence marks Egeria out as a personage of some importance. Egeria traveled with an imperial military escort and received personal tours of the holy sites by no fewer than six bishops.447 Both of these facts suggest that

Egeria’s pilgrimage had official imperial sanction and support. Even more compelling,

Egeria was unable to cross into Persian territory to visit Ur. For the majority of Christian pilgrims, the border between Rome and Persia was highly permeable. Christian officials, in fact, traveled between empires with such ease that they were often convenient envoys for both the Romans and the Persians.448 The fact that Egeria is blocked from crossing the border makes sense only if she had a higher degree of association with Roman officials than the average pilgrim. In other words, if Egeria was traveling with an official escort and imperial sanction, then she may well have found the Persian border to be more problematic than if she was traveling under some type of purely religious authority or as a private citizen.449 Thus, Egeria appears to have been an elite Roman women, for whom education was a common expectation.

447 Bishops of Arabia (8.2, 9.1), Segor (12.3), Carneas (14.1), Edessa (19.2), Carrhae (20.1), and Seleucia (23.1). 448 A. D. Lee, Information and Frontiers (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 60. 449 Embassies and official travelers between Rome and Persia were heavy controlled and curtailed by the Roman and Persian governments. See A. D. Lee, “Embassies as Evidence for the Movement of Military Intelligence between the Roman and Sasanian Empires,” in The Defense of the Roman and Byzantine East, vol. 2, ed. P. Freeman and D. Kennedy (British Institute of Archaeology at Ankara Monograph No. 8, 1986), 460, n.1. In contrast, Christian ascetics seem to have enjoyed considerable freedom at the border. See S. N. C. Warwick, “Captives, Refugees and Exiles: A Study of Cross-Frontier Civilian Movements and Contacts between Rome and Persia

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In the second place, despite its poor Latinity, the itinerarium has been shown to contain complex associations between biblical passages and physical landscape. Viewed as a pilgrimage text, it displays a great deal of sophistication and complexity in the creation of topographical holy spaces. Egeria creates a map of holy spaces for her audience, as Spitzer calls it, “a spiritual geography of a second homeland”, wherein biblical episodes and allusions are selected with great delicacy to make a three- dimensional text, one of the very first of its genre.450 Spitzer suggests that the stylistic peculiarities within the text are deliberate and reflect Egeria’s intent to create an

“idealized account of an idealized pilgrimage,” a text that allowed for any Christian reader to experience her journey.451 Thus:

The holy men appear not as individuals, but as representatives of an ideal type of ‘informant’; they can speak only of holy matters and express themselves only ‘illis sermonibus quos dignum erat de ore illorum procedere’… The servants of her necessarily numerous suite are never mentioned; the anonymous figures appointed to read the Scriptures at regular intervals are summed up in a legitur; the military authorities (tribuni or praepositi) who provide for her safety are mentioned, but not presented. As for the inhabitants of the East, we see only – again as in mediaeval paintings – worshipping crowds in the churches of Jerusalem.452

To this end, Spitzer suggests that the high degree of repetition found in the text, both in terms of specific words and larger descriptive sequences is a sophisticated literary technique by Egeria to “cement the inner coherence of the sentences by emphasizing the

from Valerian to Jovian,” in The Defense of the Roman and Byzantine East, 491-493. On the seemingly easy movement of pilgrims across the frontier see also Chapter Four, 212-214. 450 L. Spizter, “The Epic Style of the Pilgrim Aetheria,” 258. 451 Ibid., 249. 452 Ibid., 251-252.

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‘sameness’ of the things and persons presented and to rivet, according to the spirit of the pilgrimage, the legendary happenings to the locality before the eyes of the pilgrim.”453

With this interpretation, on a conceptual or creative level, the itinerarium far surpasses the Latin that is employed, and, as with her status, is suggestive of significant education and study.

Spitzer’s interpretation has not been widely accepted by later scholars. While many acknowledge his point that the text is more complex than might be expected from the quality of the Latin, none have gone as far as Spitzer in their analysis of Egeria’s rhetorical technique or style.454 Nonetheless, Spitzer points to an inherent conflict that is created with the assumption that Egeria’s style is an unintentional result of poor Latin skills.455 Egeria is both an elite traveler with demonstrable biblical learning and a great deal of literary creativity but also, it would appear, poorly educated in the Latin language.

The internal evidence from the itinerarium is therefore highly contradictory.

453 Ibid., 234. Spitzer draws upon Egeria, It. 19.4-19, extensively in his description of her repetitive technique, pointing to her repetitive use of ipse (see Spitzer 228-229) and hic (see Spitzer 231) as a means of formulaic emphasis, in conjunction with her more general repetitions of any significant detail (see Spitzer 233-234), in order to guide the reader at a measured pace through the experience. The repetitive use of certain words creates a “sameness” between the different people and events that she describes. 454 G. E. Gringas, Egeria: Diary of a Pilgrimage, 45, nicely sums up the prevailing attitude towards Spitzer’s argument: “Perhaps the most imaginative attempt to situate this text in its proper genre and to interpret its style in terms of that genre has been made by L. Spitzer…he attempts to treat the text ‘from the point of view of the literary genre it purports to represent’…Thus Spitzer can interpret favorably certain features of the text which have appeared ‘barbaric’ to others – the numerous repetitions, the excessive use of demonstratives, the lack of descriptions, the lack of a single quotation from a classical author.” 455 On this, see, for example, A. Palmer, “Egeria the Voyager, or the Technology of Remote Sensing in Late Antiquity,” in Travel Fact and Travel Fiction: Studies on Fiction, Literary Tradition, Scholarly Discovery and Observation in Travel Writing, ed. Z. von Martels (Leiden: Brill, 1994), 44, who concludes that Egeria’s language is that of nun who had been “educated in Latin up to the level necessary for reading the Bible and singing hymns.”

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One possible resolution of this conflict might lie in an examination of the nature of the composition of the itinerarium. With this approach, Egeria’s style – her repetitions, colloquialisms, and simple prose – becomes a result of textual composition rather than authorial education. That is to say, the “speaking” style of the text could be considered equally a result of how the text was composed, rather than a consequence of the author’s ability. This leads to the very intriguing possibility that Egeria’s “colloquial” style stems from a degree of oral composition.

Palmer makes the observation that Egeria took shorthand notes.456 He suggests that this is made obvious in her “interview” with the bishop of Edessa. As Palmer does not provide any references for this point I am unclear as to what lines exactly have led him to this conclusion, but one might assume that the extensive lecture by the bishop which is recorded by Egeria seems indicative of the presence of a scribe.457 That Egeria could well have had a scribe traveling with her, jotting down conversations with bishops and Egeria’s own impressions of sites, has a real implication for how the itinerarium as we know it was composed. Interestingly, the passage that Palmer points to (Egeria It. 19) is the same passage that Spitzer discusses as a particular example of repetition within the text. For the former the repetition is indicative of deliberate rhetorical intent, for the latter, it is a result of rough notes taken by Egeria’s scribe.

That ancient texts incorporate aspects of orality within them is nothing new.

Hearon, while examining the Gospel of Mark for written and spoken word, concludes:

While the Scriptures are described by terms that identify them as written (i. e. a book, Moses wrote, as it is written)

456 A. Palmer, “Egeria the Voyager, or the Technology of Remote Sensing in Late Antiquity,” 49. 457 For this section see Egeria, It. 19.

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they are consistently perceived, encountered, and engaged as spoken word. Their status as spoken word is underscored by the absence of readers in the text, and by the rhetorical use of the language of reading to convey knowledge or comprehension of that which is written, rather than the act of reading itself. Thus, although the Scriptures as written word are everywhere present in the narrative world of the Gospel, they are not present as written word, but as spoken word.458

Thus, orality and/or a “speaking” style of text could certainly be a cause of

Egeria’s particular Latinity. Egeria’s simple and highly repetitive style is well in keeping with this possibility. At one point Egeria tells us:

It was here on our return journey that we came out of the mountains, at the same spot where we had entered them on our way down. And once again we approached the sea. On their way back from Sinai, the children of Israel followed the route by which they had gone to the mountain of God as far as this same place, where we came out of the mountains and where we once again reached the Red Sea. From here on we now retraced the way by which we had come. From this place, however, the children of Israel went their own route, as it is written in the books of the holy man Moses. (6.3)459

In this passage Egeria first describes her route, noting that she came down out of the mountains and followed her earlier path towards the sea. She then points out that this was the same spot in the mountains that the children of Israel used to go to Sinai, and

458 H. Hearon, “Mapping Written and Spoken Word in the Gospel of Mark,” in The Interface of Orality and Writing: Speaking, Seeing, Writing in the Shaping of New Genres, ed. A. Weissenrieder and R. B. Coote (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), 385. 459 Egeria, It. 6.3 (trans. Gringas): In eo ergo loco de inter montes exivimus redeuntes, in quo loco et euntes inter montes intraveramus, ac sic ergo denuo plicavimus nos ad mare. Filii etiam Israhel revertentes a monte Dei Sina usque ad eum locum reversi sunt per iter, quod ierant, id est usque ad eum locum, ubi de inter montes exivimus et iunximus nos denuo ad mare rubrum et inde nos iam iter nostrum, quo veneramus, reversi sumus: filii autem Israhel de eodem loco, sicut scriptum est in libris sancti Moysi, ambulaverunt iter suum.

163 reiterates that her party took the same course. She then repeats the fact that she started the passage with, namely, that her party came out of the mountains and retraced their route back to the sea. Thus, in the course of one passage Egeria mentions three times the same fact about her trip. As she does, throughout her work, Egeria uses a Scriptural reference to ground her description of the area. In this case she seems to be referring to Num. 10.12 wherein the children of Israel march from the desert of Sinai.460

Three facts should be kept in mind at this point. First, the itinerarium suggests that the author was well educated in Scripture, and with this, the oral style which can be found in Biblical texts. Second, the itinerarium, suggests a degree of intelligence for the author. Egeria does not only know Scripture but is able to draw from it key examples and is able to use it as a framework for her text. Third, Egeria quite possibly was traveling with a scribe.

The presence of a scribe is particularly interesting, if we consider the impact scribes had on other Christian texts. For example, many of the extant sermons are the work of notarii, people who wrote down sermons shorthand as they were delivered.

Sermons collected in this manner were then either edited into more elegant versions, often by the preacher who gave the sermon, and collected or shared, or were left in the form recorded by the scribes, a sort of rough draft. The best example of this process is in the sermons of Jerome, which can be divided into two very distinct styles: the polished,

460 Num. 10.12: “And the children of Israel marched by their troops from the desert of Sinai, and the cloud rested in the wilderness of Pharan.” On this allusion see also G. E. Gringas, Egeria: Diary of a Pilgrimage, 179 n. 87, who points out that Egeria and her group most likely understood this passage in the context of a local valley called Pharan which was distinct from the “desert of Pharan” in the Scripture and explains her belief that the Israelites also retraced their steps.

164 revised works which he himself edited, and the much less elegant works, which were only proven even to belong to Jerome in the last century.461 These rather raw sermons were distributed without Jerome’s consultation, a fact that very much bothered him.462

The difference in style between Jerome’s edited and unedited sermons has been catalogued by several scholars, in particular Pease.463 His comparison identifies a number of key characteristics found in the unedited sermons. They are typified by simple language and excessive repetition, while on the whole the grammar is exceedingly poor, especially in comparison to other works of Jerome.464 Pease concluded that this group of sermons represents not Jerome’s writing “but the report (shorthand or otherwise) of a hearer, who wrote down, to the best of his ability, all that Jerome said, important or unimportant, but very likely lost entirely many utterances of some value while he was engaged in setting down ideas of inferior importance.”465 So, Jerome’s style in his rough sermons, compared to his polished works, is identifiable as much simpler, with shorter

461 G. Morin found and proved that three sections in the Breviarium in Psalmos were Jerome’s work: Commentarioli in Psalmos (edited), Tractatus in Psalmos (unedited), Tractatus in Psalmos XIV (unedited). See Anecdota Maredsolana. Vol. III, Pars 1, Pars 2, Pars 3 (1895, 1897, 1903). 462 Jerome Ep. 49.2 (trans. W.H. Fremantle, G. Lewis and W.G. Martley): “In this province, also, the books have already been circulated; and, as you have read yourself in Horace, ‘Words once uttered cannot be recalled.’ I am not so fortunate as are most of the writers of the day— able, that is, to correct my trifles whenever I like. When once I have written anything, either my admirers or my ill-wishers— from different motives, but with equal zeal — sow my work broadcast among the public; and their language, whether it is that of eulogy or of criticism, is apt to run to excess. They are guided not by the merits of the piece, but by their own angry feelings.” For the full passage and the Latin text see Chapter Two, n. 326. 463 A. S. Pease, “Notes on Jerome’s Tractates on the Psalms,” Journal of Biblical Literature, 26:2 (1907), 107-131. 464 Ibid. 109. 465 Ibid., 122.

165 sentences, increased repetition, limited vocabulary, avoidance of unusual words and increased use of select words.466

The existence of rough draft texts is in no way exclusive to the Christian period.

Quintilian, like Jerome, bemoaned the fact that copies of his lectures were in circulation which he had not prepared for publication, and noted his interest in publishing the

Institutio was in part because:

Two books on the art of rhetoric are at present circulating under my name, although never published by me or composed for such a purpose. One is a two days' lecture which was taken down by the boys who were my audience. The other consists of such notes as my good pupils succeeded in taking down from a course of lectures on a somewhat more extensive scale: I appreciate their kindness, but they showed an excess of enthusiasm and a certain lack of discretion in doing my utterances the honour of publication. Consequently in the present work although some passages remain the same, you will find many alterations and still more additions, while the whole theme will be treated with greater system and with as great perfection as lies within my power.467

466 R. J. Deferrari “Verbatim Reports of Augustine’s Unwritten Sermons,” Transactions and Proceedings of the American Philological Association 46 (1915), 35, draws a similar conclusion between Augustine’s edited and unedited sermons. It is well known that Augustine employed notarii during the delivery of his sermons, and he, like Jerome, left many sermons in the rough drafts that were produced. Augustine tells us this himself: PL II. 26, 488, 490; III. 55; IX. 807; Possidius, Vita of Augustine, 18, 24. In particular, his 124 sermons on the Gospel of St. John show very little in the way of alteration from the form in which they were recorded. These sermons hold a number of markers that identify them as recordings of speech. The sermons are full of digressions, broken sentences, rhetorical questions, and emotional exclamations. See R. J. Deferrari “Verbatim Reports of Augustine’s Unwritten Sermons,” 35, 37. 467 Quintilian, Inst. Orat. 1 pref. 6-8. (trans Loeb): atque eo magis, quod duo iam sub nomine meo libri ferebantur artis rhetoricae neque editi a me neque in hoc comparati. namque alterum sermonem per biduum habitum pueri, quibus id praestabatur, exceperant; alterum pluribus sane diebus, quantum notando consequi potucrant, interceptum boni iuvenes, sed nimium amantes mei, temerario editionis honore vulgaverant. quare in his quoque libris erunt eadem aliqua, multa mutata, plurima adiecta, omnia vero compositiora et, quantum nos poterimus, elaborata. On this passage see also P. J. J. Botha, “Publishing a Gospel: Notes on Historical Constraints to Gospel Criticism,” in The Interface of Orality and Writing: Speaking, Seeing, Writing in the Shaping of New Genres, 346-347.

166

Thus, Quintilian and Jerome are illustrative of the potential for scribal versions of works to become publically distributed. Equally notably, neither Jerome nor Quintilian felt that these versions by notarii did justice to their literary abilities or their ideas. Finally, the creation of these unedited works was dependent on publicly given addresses by the authors– sermons, in the case of Jerome, and lectures, in the case of Quintilian.

Is it possible, then, that Egeria’s “speaking” style, with its repetitions, colloquialisms, and conversational addresses, is a product of a similar type of composition? Is it possible that sections of her text suggest that she “wrote just as she spoke”468 because what we have is exactly that – Egeria describing her experiences, bishops speaking to her party, and a scribe endeavoring to record these voices?

Grammatically, Egeria’s text is suggestive of an element of oral composition. For example, the unedited sermons of Jerome employ common words and limited vocabulary, compared to the edited sermons.469 Egeria’s vocabulary is equally small.

Swanson identifies 1413 different words in Egeria’s text, which he considers “a small number even for a text of 60 printed pages.”470 Nor are the words used by Egeria exceptional or even uncommon. Hence Egeria employs a limited vocabulary of plain words. Interestingly, of these words, her frequency of use seems to follow a similar pattern to that of Jerome in his unedited sermons. In the case of Jerome, Dico, video,

468 See n. 446 above. 469 A. S. Pease, “Notes on Jerome’s Tractates on the Psalms,” 109. 470 D. C. Swanson, “A Formal Analysis of Egeria’s (Silvia’s) Vocabulary,” Glotta 44 (1966-67), 180.

167 lego, puto, oro, and pono are particularly prevalent.471 Following sum and facio, dico, video and lego are the third, fourth and sixth most common verbs in Egeria’s text.472 In addition to this, Egeria’s text contains the major grammatical marker that Pease identified as indicative of speech in Jerome’s unedited sermons. In Pease’s comparison of Jerome’s edited and unedited texts he noted that quia and quoniam were used much more frequently in the spoken sermons than in the edited ones. Quia was in fact present only once in the edited sermons, but was used close to 50 times in the unedited sermons and quoniam only appeared in the spoken sermons.473 In fact, in the total corpus of Jerome’s polished works, quoniam is used one time.474 This pattern continues in Egeria, where quia is employed 52 times and quoniam 46 times.475

Hence, the itinerarium possesses many of the markers of a speech recording. The tendency to repeat points, to break off in the middle of sentences and then circle back, to interject explanatory digressions, and to make casual conversation, as well as grammatical and linguistic peculiarities, is suggestive of both oral dictation and scribal note-taking. For these reasons it seems to be a compelling possibility that we have not

Egeria’s text, but a scribe’s version of it, which, for whatever reason, was never edited into a more polished form.476 In other words, the text that survives is a record of Egeria’s words, but perhaps should not necessarily be viewed as a finished literary text.

471 A. S. Pease, “Notes on Jerome’s Tractates on the Psalms,” 115; Roy J. Deferrari “Verbatim Reports of Augustine’s Unwritten Sermons,” 36. 472 D. C. Swanson, “A Formal Analysis of Egeria’s (Silvia’s) Vocabulary,” 245. 473 A. S. Pease, “Notes on Jerome’s Tractates on the Psalms,” 115-116. 474 Drager, Hist. Synt. II. 232-2, ep. 147 with ignoro. 475 D. C. Swanson, “A Formal Analysis of Egeria’s (Silvia’s) Vocabulary,” 200-201. 476 Should a scribe (male or female) have been involved in Egeria’s work this may have some implications in terms of authorial voice. See Chapter Two, 113-114.

168

Egeria’s work can be placed well within the period of early Christianity where information was predominantly transmitted orally. Sermons, treatises and prayer still functioned in a culture of orality, and the literature of the fourth and early fifth centuries often reflects this culture.477 Therefore, it is reasonable to conclude that Egeria delivered her work within a culture that presupposed that a successful transmission of religious ideas to others required a form that was accessible to the listener, not the reader.478 As an abbess addressing her sisters, or at the very least, a pilgrim sharing her experience with an interested audience, it might be possible to view the itinerarium as a similar sort of rough sermon to a congregation. However, it is at this point that any possible path of transmission must become entirely speculative. That the text falls easily into the category of a scribe’s copy is quite possible. But how this copy came into the manuscript tradition in the West is not.479 The final lines of the text indicate that Egeria was at Constantinople and was making plans for another trip into the holy lands.480 Whether she ever returned to

Spain is unknown. Thus, do we have dictated letters meant to be sent home and read aloud? Or do we have notes from a talk Egeria gave herself, in Spain, or Constantinople or somewhere else? As with so many aspects of Egeria there is simply no way to know.

477 For a good overview of the oral culture in early Christianity, see the collected essays in The Interface of Orality and Writing: Speaking, Seeing, Writing in the Shaping of New Genres. Ed. A. Weissenrieder and R. B. Coote. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010. See also R. J. Deferrari, “Verbatim Reports of Augustine’s Unwritten Sermons,” 35. 478 One should also consider the speaking tone that was prevelant in the genre of ancient commentary that may have impacted Egeria’s style of Scriptural explanation and description. See P. K. Marshall, “Commentary,” Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2012). 479 In 1884 G. F. Gamurrini found the 22-page manuscript preserved in a codex in the library of the Brotherhood of St. Mary in Arezzo that contained fragments of St. Hilary of Poitier’s hymnbook and his treatise De mysteriis. The codex originally came from Monte Cassino and was dated to the eleventh century and was attributed to S. Silvia of Aquitaine. See G. E. Gringas, Egeria: Diary of a Pilgrimage, 143 n.2. How the manuscript came to be in Monte Cassino or transferred to Arezzo is not clear. 480 See Egeria, It., 23.

169

Whatever the case, the text that survives is not merely another example of the decline of Latin literature in Late Antiquity or compelling evidence for a lack of education or skill on Egeria’s part. In fact, it argues for quite the opposite. Egeria was a woman of some presence, and the existence of an unedited work is indicative both of her employment of scribes, and of an eager audience that wished to hear her speak. Neither of these features suggests poor literacy on her part. And while this does not help solve the mystery of who Egeria was, it does resolve the conflict between her status and her

Latinity.

The Study Circle

Another possibility for education, and one which has often been pointed to as a means of education for early Christian women, is the study circle. Perpetua and Egeria certainly demonstrate the potential for specialized Christian study. From Perpetua’s text it is possible to draw a number of conclusions as to how such a circle might function.

Several members of the circle are identified throughout the work. The group that was arrested contained, in addition to Perpetua, four other people: Revocatus, Felicitas,

Secundulus and Saturninus.481 All are described as catechumens. The text also notes that

Perpetua’s brother, although not arrested, was also a catechumen at this time.482 While the text makes clear that Perpetua, and by extension her brother, were from an upper class family, it does not offer the same clarity as to the identities of the other members of the group. The relationship between Revocatus and Felicitas could be interpreted as one of

481 Passio S. Perpetuae, prologue 2.1. 482 Ibid., 2.2

170 marriage since Felicitas is described as the conserva of Revocatus.483 If so, this would suggest that both Revocatus and Felicitas were slaves.484 Nothing at all is mentioned in connection to Secundulus and Saturninus. Two additional members of the group are introduced as the deacons Tertius and Pomponius, who visit the imprisoned group.

Perpetua identifies these men as the ministers of the circle (benedicti deaconi qui nobis ministrabant).485 The text also makes it clear that they were a circle, and not random

Christians who were rounded up. At several points Perpetua refers to the group as a whole. She comments, “we were baptized” (baptizati sumus).486 The deacons are identified as ministering to the group as a whole, and in Perpetua’s first vision she sees

Saturus, who “… afterwards had of his own free will given up himself for our sakes, because it was he who had edified us; and when we were taken he had not been there.”487

This introduces yet another member of her circle, one whom Perpetua identifies as the circle’s teacher. Therefore, Perpetua and a group of others, most likely from a range of social statuses, were studying to become Christians under the direction of Saturus and the ministry of Tertius and Pomponius.

Egeria suggests a very different composition to her study circle. Her text indicates an exclusively female group focused on advanced biblical study. As Valerius’ letter indicates, Egeria made a thorough textual study before she began her travels.

483 Ibid., 2.1 484 For the use of conserva see S. Treggiari, Roman Marriage. Iusti Coniuges from the time of Cicero to the time of Ulpian; S. Treggiari, "Consent to Roman Marriage: Some Aspects of Law and Reality," Echos du Monde Classique/Classical Views 26 (1982), 34-44. 485 Passio S. Perpetuae, 3.13. 486 Ibid., 3.9 487 Ibid., 4.5 (trans. E. W. Shewing): qui postea se propter nos ultro tradiderat (quia ipse nos aedificauerat), et tunc cum adducti sumus, praesens non fuerat.

171

First with great industry she perused all the books of the Old and New Testaments, and discovered all its descriptions of the holy wonders of the world; and its regions, provinces, cities, mountains, and deserts. Then in eager haste (though it was to take many years) she set out, with God’s help, to explore them.488

Egeria’s ensuing discussion with her sisters about the places suggests that her studies were not solitary. Egeria has the tendency to reference in scripture the place that she is at and then to relate her own impression of the site. For example, when she reaches the top of Mt. Nebo she begins her description by citing Deuteronomy 34.6, “no man knows his sepulchre,” and proceeds to tell about her visit to Moses’ tomb.489 This pattern is, in fact, so common in her text that it is impossible to see it as anything else but a study guide for the rest of her circle that she has left at home. The text is therefore highly suggestive about a potential topic that Christian women wished to focus on in a study circle.

Even Proba’s family offers some suggestion of a form of Christian study circle, in the set of letters by Jerome and Pelagius to her descendent Demetrias. Demetrias had decided to lead a celibate life, and her grandmother wrote to both Pelagius and Jerome to

488 Valerius of Bierzo, Ep.1 (trans. J. Wilkinson, Egeria’s Travels, 201): cuncta igitur Veteris ac Noui Testamenti omni indagatione percurrens uolumina, et quacumque sanctarum mirabiliorum loca in diuersis mundi partibus, prouinciis, ciuitatibus, montibus, ceterisque desertis repperit esse conscripta, sollicita expeditione licet per multa annorum spatia peregrinando proficiscens, tamen cuncta cum Dei iubamine perlustrans. The most recent edition of this letter (among with a French translation) can be found in P. Maraval and M. Díaz y Díaz, Égérie, Journal de Voyage (Itineraire) et Lettre sur la Bienheureuse Égérie (Paris: Sources Chrétiennes 296, 1996), 321-349. It should be noted that Valerius does not explain how he knows that Egeria studied before her trip and that it could be an assumption on his part. 489 Egeria, It., 12.

172 solicit advice for her.490 The letters in reply identify the women in Demetrias’ family as devout and intelligent people. Pelagius notes that

Their extraordinary faithfulness to God was most clearly revealed at the time when you [Demetrias] declared your intention: then, although they had already prepared you for marriage, as soon as they learned of your changed wishes, they immediately encouraged you to pursue your new choice and gave a wonderfully prompt assent to it. With the authority of their will they gave added strength to a decision about which you were bound to be a little apprehensive in view of your age, made your vow the common vow of all three of you and, though they have seen many members of their family occupying the highest positions of honour, at no time rejoiced for any of them as they did for you, for they had never seen such a mark of greatness and distinction in anyone. 491

Jerome goes considerably further in his description of these women, stating that they are

“both women of mark, and they have alike authority to command, faith to seek and perseverance to obtain that which they require.”492 Both men assume that Demetrias comes from a circle of women that are quite capable of leading Demetrias on her chosen course.

Requests by women to leading theologians for informative letters were extremely common. Both Jerome and Pelagius are noted for having an extensive circle of elite women that sought direction from them. Such informal study circles have received

490 Pelagius, Letter to Demetrias; Jerome, Ep. 130. 491 Pelagius, Letter to Demetrias (PL 30.15-45) (trans. B. Rees, The Letters of Pelagius and His Followers, (Boydell Press, 1991)): quarum egregia erga Deum fides in professione tua maxime claruit, cum te jam nuptiis praeparatam, simul atque aliud velle didicerunt, mira continuo assensus celeritate, ad id quod elegeras, cohortatae sunt. Et trepidam pro aetate sententiam, voluntatis suae auctoritate firmaverunt: tuumque votum commune fecerunt: quae cum multos suorum in altissimo dignitatis gradu viderint, de nullo ita, ut de te, aliquando laetatae sunt. 492 Jerome, Ep. 130.1 (PL 22.1107-1124) (trans. W.H. Fremantle, G. Lewis and W.G. Martley): tanta est aviae et matris, insignium feminarum, in iubendo , in petendo fides, in extorquendo perseverantia.

173 considerable attention, in particular those of Marcella and Paula, who were closely associated with Jerome.493 Jerome’s letters to these women reveal them to be the leaders of small groups of elite women who meet frequently to discuss Christian topics.494

Similar study circles of women appear to have emerged around many other leading figures of the church, such as Augustine, who had a lively correspondence with many women including Theresia,495 Italica,496 and Proba.497

Women also appeared as the followers of many heretical leaders, and often became a convenient point of attack against the credibility of these men. Priscillian, for example, was regarded with great suspicion for his involvement in the circles of women he taught. Two women he was associated with, Pomponia Urbica and Euchrotia, were ultimately killed as a result of this association and their involvement in his circle.

Pomponia Urbica, a relative of Ausonius, is compared by the poet to Theano, the

Pythagorean.498 She was stoned to death in Bordeaux by a mob hostile to Priscillian; however, Ausonius seems to be emphasizing that she was involved in the circle for studious interests. Likewise, Euchrotia, who was executed by Maximus, was a particularly visible member of Priscillian’s study circle.499 Indeed the church sought to

493 On this circle see, most recently, K. Haines-Eitzen, The Gendered Palimpsest: Women, Writing, and Representation in Early Christianity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 29, 35-37. 494 Jerome, Ep. 127. 495 Augustine, Ep. 25, 30, 31, 42, 95. 496 Augustine, Ep. 92, 99. 497 Augustine, Ep. 130, 131, 150. This Proba is not the Proba who wrote the cento. 498 Ausonius Par. 30.3-6: “quas Pythagorea Theano.” 499 V. Burrus, The Making of a Heretic: Gender, Authority, and the Priscillianist Controversy (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995), 97-98.

174 limit interactions between men and women in Priscillian’s circle through a series of decrees.500

Likewise, women appear to have been heavily involved in study circles deemed

Montanist or Gnostic. The Monanists Prisca and Maximilla appear as highly involved participants who went so far as to teach their followers.501 The Gnostic Philomena is equally cast as a teacher within a study circle. While the description is highly negative, her active participation within a circle is firmly documented.502

In this manner, the Christian study circle appears to have offered tremendous opportunities for female education. Women studied a variety of Christian topics, in a vast array of settings, with teachers both male and female. However, was this truly in any way a new medium for female education? In the period preceding the Christian study circle, elite Roman women appear equally involved in study circles of other sorts. Literary circles, often likened to the salons of eighteenth-century France, were a well-documented occurrence from late Republican times onwards.503 Sulpicia’s poems speak to one of these circles, that of her guardian and uncle Messalla (M. Valerius Messalla Corvinus).

Sulpicia was the daughter of Servius Sulpicius Rufus, whose wife, Valeria, was the sister of Messalla.504 Her identity suggests that Sulpicia had connections to a number of literary

500 For a discussion of these decrees, see Chapter Five below, 263-269. 501 A. Jensen, God’s Self-Confident Daughters: Early Christianity and the Liberation of Women, trans. O. C. Dean (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1996), 133-167. 502 Ibid., 197. 503 On the likening of literary circles to salons, see, for example, M. Gouldman, The Roman World: 44BC to AD 180 (New York: Routledge, 1997), 183; J.J. Price, “The Provincial Historian in Rome,” in and Jewish History in Flavian Rome and beyond, ed. J. Sievers and G. Lembi (Leiden: Brill, 2005), 104. 504 C. Davies, “Poetry in the Circle of Messalla,” 32. On the importance of these literary circles, see P. White, “The Friends of Martial, Statius, and Pliny, and the Dispersal of Patronage,” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 79 (1975), 265-300.

175 cohorts at Rome, as her father was the son of Cicero’s dear friend who wrote to Cicero on the death of Tullia.505 Messalla was a noted patron of poets. As a young man, Ovid received support from him, as Ovid himself fondly recollects to Messalla’s son:

I always honoured your father from my earliest days – at least don’t wish that fact to be concealed, and (you may remember) he approved my talent even more than, in my judgement, it deserved: he used to speak of my verse with that eloquence which was a part of his great nobility.506

Tibullus, whose works contain the poems of Sulpicia as well as other minor poets supported by Messalla, also reflects on the friendship and support offered by Messalla.507

Other poets who may have been working with Messalla’s support are suggested by

Horace. In his discussion of literary men that he hopes will favor his Satires he includes

Messalla and several figures connected to him.508 Sulpicia’s involvement in this circle is therefore suggestive of the caliber of poets to whom she was exposed. Her own poetry makes reference to this circle, when she joyfully records that she is returning to Rome

505 Cicero, Ad Fam. 4.5. 506 Ovid, Tristia, 4.4.27-30 (trans. A. S. Kline, 2003): Nam tuus est primis cultus mihi semper ab annis/ (hoc certe noli dissimulare)pater,/ ingeniumque meum (potes hoc meminisse) probabat/ plus etiam quam me iudice dignus eram. 507 Tibullus, 1.5.31-4 (trans. A. S. Kline, 2003): “Here my Messalla will come, for whom Delia/ will pull down sweetest fruit from chosen trees:/ and, in homage to his greatness, show great care,/ and, herself his servant, prepare and serve his meals” (Huc veniet Messalla meus, cui dulcia poma/ Delia selectis detrahat arboribus;/ Et tantum venerata virum hunc sedula curet,/ Huic paret atque epulas ipsa ministra great). For a general introduction and bibliography on Tibullus, see M. C. J. Putnam, Tibullus: A Commentary (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1973), 3- 13; C. Neumeister, "Tibullus, Albius." Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2011). On the inclusion of Sulpicia’s work into Tibullus’ corpus, see H. N. Parker, “Sulpicia, the Auctor de Sulpicia, and the Authorship of 3.9 and 3.11 of the Corpus Tibullianum,” esp. 55 n.2. A somewhat doubting treatment of this can be found in N. Holzberg, “Four Poets and a Poetess or a Portrait of the Poet as a Young Man? Thoughts on Book 3 of the Corpus Tibullianum,” The Classical Journal 94:2 (1999), 171-177. 508 Horace, Satires 1.10.82-83: “Messalla, with your brother and at the same time, you Bibulus and Servius, and also with these you, candid Fernius” (Messalla, tuo cum fratre, simulque/ uos, Bibule et Serui, simul his te, candide Furni).

176 from the countryside, in order to celebrate her birthday with “everyone”. “The birthday may be celebrated by us all”, she writes.509

A woman did not have to be an author, however, to be part of such a literary circle. To return to Pliny’s idealizing description of his wife’s appreciation of his poetry, it should be noted that he situates Calpurnia as audience member on some occasions.510

Indeed, it should be surmised from the numerous descriptions of women being great appreciators of various poets that women were active participants in the household study of poetry. Certainly Roman women of the very highest status were often patrons of poets and writers. Plutarch describes Cornelia as playing host to a thriving circle of authors.

And further, Cornelia is reported to have borne all her misfortunes in a noble and magnanimous spirit, and to have said of the sacred places where her sons had been slain that they were tombs worthy of the dead which occupied them. She resided on the promontory called Misenum, and made no change in her customary way of living. She had many friends, and kept a good table that she might show hospitality, for she always had Greeks and other literary men about her, and all the reigning kings interchanged gifts with her.511

Likewise, many Imperial women were the noted patrons of authors. Octavia appears in the dedications of two authors. acknowledges her as the reason for

Augustus’ support, writing,

509 Sulpicia, 3.3: Ominbus ille dies nobis natalis agatur. 510 Pliny, Ep. 4.19. 511 Plutarch, Caius Gracchus, 19 (trans. Loeb): Καὶ µέντοι καὶ ἡ Κορνηλία λέγεται τά τ᾿ ἄλλα τῆς συµφορᾶς εὐγενῶς καὶ µεγαλοψύχως ἐνεγκεῖν, καὶ περὶ τῶν ἱερῶν ἐν οἷς ἀνῃρέθησαν εἰπεῖν ὡς ἀξίους οἱ νεκροὶ τάφους ἔχουσιν. Αὕτη δὲ περὶ τοὺς καλουµένους Μισηνοὺς διέτριβεν, οὐδὲν µεταλλάξασα τῆς συνήθους διαίτης. Ἦν δὲ πολύφιλος καὶ διὰ φιλοξενίαν εὐτράπεζος, ἀεὶ µὲν ‘Ελλήνων καὶ φιλολόγων περὶ αὐτὴν ὄντων, ἁπάντων δὲ τῶν βασιλέων καὶ δεχοµένων παρ᾿ αὐτῆς δῶρα καὶ πεµπόντων.

177

Hence… I have been appointed to, and receive the emoluments arising from the care of, the various engines of war which you assigned to me on the recommendation of your sister. As, through your kindness, I have been thus placed beyond the reach of poverty, I think it right to address this treatise to you.512

Octavia also had a book dedicated to her by Athenodorus of Tarsus, a Stoic philosopher.513

Antonia Minor may also have been a literary patron. Frequent references to her in the poetry of Crinagoras (d. AD 20), as pointed out by Hemelrijk, suggest either an existing patronage relationship or the poet seeking such a connection.514 Agrippina the

Younger used her influence to have Seneca recalled from exile and was the subject of praise in a poem by Leonidas of Alexandria.515 This poet seems also to have been a part of Poppaea’s circle, which is described by Tacitus as an evil group of astrologers: “Many

512 Vitruvius, De. Arch. pref. 2-3. (trans. Loeb): Cum eis commoda accepi, quae, cum primo mihi tribuisti recognitionem, per soris commendationem servasti. Cum ergo eo beneficio essem obligatus, ut ad exitum vitae non haberem inopiae timorem, haec tibi scribere coepi. 513 This dedication is mentioned in passing in Plutarch (Publ. 17.5). On Athenodorus, see PIR2 A 1288; E. Rawson, Intellectual Life in the Late Roman Republic (London: Duckworth, 1985), 81- 82. On Octavia’s patronage, see E. A. Hemelrijk, Matrona Docta: Educated women in the Roman elite from Cornelia to Julia Domna, 106. It has been suggested that Athenodorus wrote a consolation for Octavia on the death of her son. See C. Cicchorius, Römische Studien: Historisches, Epigraphisches, Literargeschtliches aus vier Jahrhunderten Roms (Leipzig: Teubner, 1922), 281-282 514 E. A. Hemelrijk, Matrona Docta: Educated women in the Roman elite from Cornelia to Julia Domna, 109: Crinagoras dedicated five books of lyric verse to her (AP 9.239) and also wrote a poem asking for her safety in childbirth (AP 6.244). This connection is also noted in M. G. Albiani, "Crinagoras," Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2011). On Crinagoras’ poetry, see G. W. Bowersock, “Anth. Pal. VII 638 (Crinagoras),” Hermes, 92:2 (1964), 255-256; A. S. F. Gow and D. L. Page, The Greek Anthology II (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1968), 212. 515 On Agrippina’s recall of Seneca, see Tacitus, Ann. 12.8. On the relationship between Leonidas and Agrippina, see E. A. Hemelrijk, Matrona Docta: Educated women in the Roman elite from Cornelia to Julia Domna,114. Hemelrijk follows C. Cicchorius, Römische Studien: Historisches, Epigraphisches, Literargeschtliches aus vier Jahrhunderten Roms, 365-368.

178 of these astrologers, the worst possible tools for an Imperial consort, had shared

Poppaea's secret plans.”516 Flavius Josephus thanked Domitia Longina, the wife of

Domitian, for her support, noting that she “accomplished much for me by being my benefactress.”517 As discussed earlier, Plotina Augusta was clearly the patron of the

Epicurean school at Athens, as Sabina Augusta was of Julia Balbilla. Matidia the

Younger, Sabina’s half-sister, left a will that included support for a number of literary protégés.518

The support, then, that leading Christian writers received from elite Roman women is in no way unprecedented. It would seem that these women had a long-standing role of supporting intellectuals and participating in high literary culture. Julia Domna is, of course, the strongest example of such an intellectual circle. Her patronage is recorded by the sophist who notes, “As I belong to the circle of the empress– for she was a devoted admirer of all rhetorical exercises– she commanded me to rewrite and edit these essays and to pay special attention to its style and diction….”519 As to what this

516 Tactitus, Hist. 1.22 (trans. Loeb): Multos secreta Poppaeae mathematicos, pessimum principalis matrimonii instrumentum, habuerant. On Poppaea’s dealings with astrologers, see F. H. Crammer, in Roman Law and Politics (Philadelphia: American Philological Society, 1954), 128-30. For additional information on Leonidas see D. L. Page, Further Greek Epigrams: Epigrams before A. D. 50 from the Greek Anthology and Other Sources, not included in ‘Hellenistic Epigrams’ or ‘the Garland of Philip’ (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981), 503-541. 517 Jos. Vita 429: καὶ πολλὰ δ᾿ἡ τοῦ καὶσαρος ηυνὴ Δοµετέα διετέλεσεν εὐεργετοῦσα µε. E. A. Hemelrijk, Matrona Docta: Educated women in the Roman elite from Cornelia to Julia Domna, 115. On Domitia Longina, see also PIR2 D 181; B. W. Jones, The Emperor Domitian (London: Routledge, 1992), 32-38. 518 Fronto, Ad. Marc. Caes. 2.16, 2.17. On Matidia, see H. Temporini - Gräfin Vitzthum, "Matidia." Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2011). Matidia, who did not marry, was known for her wealth. See M. T. Boatwright, “Matidia the Younger,” Echos du monde classique/Classical Views 36:11 (1992), 24; R. P. Duncan-Jones, The Economy of the Roman Empire: Quantitative Studies (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1974), 31. 519 Philostratus, VA, 1.3 (trans Loeb): µετέχοντι δέ µοι τοῦ περὶ αὐτὴν κύκλου – καὶ γὰρ τοὺς ῥητορικοὺς πάντας λόγους ἐπῄνει καὶ ἠσπάζετο– µεταγράψαι τε προσέταξε τὰς διατριβὰς ταύτας

179 circle was, both Philostratus and offer descriptions. Philostratus identified it as a “circle of geometricians and philosophers.”520 Dio identifies it as a circle of sophists.521 The empress’ involvement within this circle is impressive, and her influence was far reaching; one letter of Philostratus beseeches her to make Plutarch stop insulting sophists.522

Only when we consider the inclusion of non-elite women in Christian study circles is it possible to identify a seemingly new source of education for Roman women in Late Antiquity. Evidence for the presence of women in pre-Christian intellectual groups at Rome draws exclusively from the upper classes of society. There is nothing to indicate whether women of lower classes were or were not active in similar circles. The possibility, at least, for non-elite women to engage in Christian study exists in the figure of Felicitas. In the Greek tradition there is a precedent of women in philosophical circles

καὶ τῆς ἀπαγγελίας αὐτῶν ἐπιµεληθῆναι, τῷ γὰρ Νινιῳ σαφῶς µέν, οὐ µὴν δεξιῶς γε ἀπηγγέλλετο. On Philostratus’ involvement with Julia Domna’s circle, see also J. J. Flinterman, Power, Paideia and : Greek Identity, Conceptions of the Relationship between Philosophers and Monarch and Political Ideas in Philostratus’ Life of Apollonius (Amsterdam: Gieben, 1995), 19-22. Philostratus was possibly part of the empress’ entourage in Britian, Gaul, Nicomedia and Antioch. 520 Philostratus, VS, 622. καὶ προσπευὶς τοῖς περὶ τὴν ᾿Ιοιλίαν γεωµέτριας τε καὶ φιλοσόγοις εὕρετο παρ᾿ αὐτῆς διὰ τοῦ βασιλέως τὸν ᾿Αθήνῃσι θρόνον. 521 Dio, 75.15.6-7. (trans. Loeb): “For this reason she [Julia Domna] began to study philosophy and passed her days in the company of sophists” (καὶ οὕτω καὶ ἐς τὰ ἄλλα πάντα ὁ Πλαυτιανὸς αὐτοῦ κατεκράτει ὥστε καὶ τὴν ᾿Ιουλίαν τὴν Αὔγουσταν πολλὰ καὶ δεινὰ ἐργάσασθαι· πάνυ γὰρ αὐτῇ ἤχθετο, καὶ σφόδρα αὐτὴν πρὸς τὸν Σεουῆρον ἀεὶ διέβαλλεν, ἐξετάσεις τε κατ αὐτῆς καὶ βασάνους κατ᾿ εὐγενῶν γυναικῶν ποιύµενος. καὶ ἡ µὲν αὐτή τε φιλοσοφεῖν διὰ ταῦτ᾿ ἤρξατα καὶ σογισταῖς συννηµέρευεν). 522 Philostratus, Ep. 73 (τrans. A. Penella, “Philostratus’ letter to Julia Domna,” Hermes 107 (1979), 163): “So, my empress, persuade Plutarch, who is more forward than any other Greek, not to be annoyed at the sophists, nor to resort to slandering Gorgias. If you cannot persuade him, then you in your wisdom and knowledge know what epithet must be bestowed on such a person. I myself can say what that epithet is- an yet cannot do so” (πεῖθε δὴ καὶ σύ, ὦ βασίλεια, τὸν θαρσαλεώτερον τοῦ ‘Ελληνικοῦ Πλούταρχον µὴ ἄχθεσθαι τοῖς σοφισταῖς, µηδὲ ἐς διαβολὰς καθιστασθαι τοῦ Γοργίου. εἰ δὲ οὐ πείθεις, σὺ µέν, οἵα σου σοφία καὶ µῆτις, οἶσθα, τί χρὴ ὄνοµα θέσθαι τῷ τοιῷδε, ἐγὼ δὲ εἰπεῖν ἔχων οὐκ ἕχω).

180 who came from more middling backgrounds. A number of women have been connected to Pythagorean circles of the 5th, 4th and 3rd centuries BC. Theano, Perictione, Myia,

Aesara and Melisso have each been suggested as students, participants and teachers of philosophy.523 These women, whose backgrounds are often obscure, are generally not considered to have come from the upper elite. Likewise, the Neoplatonist circles of Late

Antiquity contained women such as Hypatia, whose father Theon was extremely well- respected, but was not himself of the aristocracy.524

Conclusions

The introduction of a Christian education is certainly a feature of the late antique intellectual landscape. However, as seen above, educational patterns for women remained relatively constant and the introduction of Christianity does not seem to have created significantly new traditions or opportunities for Roman women.525 Indeed, with the exception of Egeria, the remaining known female authors, despite their Christian content, were presumably educated in the pre-Christian tradition. Perpetua, at 22, was studying for her baptism when she was imprisoned. Proba most likely wrote her cento after an adult conversion. Eudocia converted to Christianity at 21 for her marriage to Theodosius II.

For each of these women, literacy and study was a precursor to becoming part of the

Christian faith, not a result. The state of Egeria’s education is, as argued above, less

523 Mary Waithe, A History of Women Philosophers, 11-58. 524 M. Dzielska, Hypatia of Alexandria, (Harvard: Harvard University Press, 1996), 69. 525 On this point consider also J. L. Kovacs, “Becoming the Perfect Man: Clement of Alexandria on the Philosophical Life of Women,” in Women and Gender in Ancient Religions: Interdisciplinary Approaches, ed. S. P. Ahearne-Kroll, P. A. Holloway and J. A. Kelhoffer (Tübingen: Morh Siebeck, 2010), 420-422.

181 easily determined by her text, and there is nothing to indicate whether she too was an adult convert to Christianity, or had been raised in the tradition from birth.

As has been seen, education for women throughout the whole of Roman history was a far more fluid and individual process than it was for men. The age at which a girl married, and the attitudes of her family, had a major impact on how her education might be conducted. However, it appears that marriage, in many ways, led to a broadening of educational opportunities for women. The expectation that a good husband furthered his wife’s education created the possibility for women to complete their education or to pursue study in a specific field like letter-writing or poetry. The ability of a married woman to hire tutors gave her access to advanced study in philosophy and mathematics and even rhetoric. Lastly, through her role as mother, a married woman was able to reinforce and advance her education as she assisted her children in their own studies.

Therefore, the corpus of female authors reveals continuity in terms of female education from Republican, to Imperial to early Christian Rome. Indeed, the informality of a late antique Christian education may have been particularly suited to the study style of women, who already tended towards personalized instruction, education in a familial setting, and considerably more freedom in terms of mandatory study subjects. It is difficult to see, however, how Christianity was acting as an expander of educational opportunity for women. Women were literate long before the appearance of Christianity.

The fact that few texts survive before the Christian period is indicative not of a change in literary ability for women, but in literary reception.

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CHAPTER FOUR: PUBLICATION AND PUBLIC VOCATION

If the introduction of a Christian education does not significantly explain the existence of the late antique texts, it is necessary to consider other societal changes that might have impacted the intellectual environment. This brings us to the exceedingly frustrating topic of the female voice in ‘public’. Roman women writers stand as something of a contradiction in terms of the division of public and private spheres at

Rome. It is a widely held belief that women functioned almost exclusively in private settings and that this ideal for womanly behavior seriously curtailed female voice in the so-called ‘public’ sphere of Roman life. Female-authored texts, however, tend to be highly publicized and to pertain to matters of ‘public’ interest. The popularity and wide acceptance of the late antique texts (as discussed in Chapter Two) is a significant challenge to the current consensus that argues for a privatization of female voice.

That being said, it is in no way credible to suggest that men and women were equal participants in public dialogue. Appreciation of a female writer was clearly dependant on a writer’s ability to work through masculine channels. The concentration of texts in Late Antiquity is therefore suggestive of increased or changing modes of reception towards female voice. Thus, this chapter will explore whether it is possible to situate the late antique writers within a larger tradition of female participants in public affairs. Identifying the political power held by Roman women is, at best, highly speculative. On the one hand, it seems self-evident (at least from the modern perspective) that elite women, on account of their resources and their connections, were political creatures. And indeed, there is a consistent record across Roman history that

183 points to their involvement. Early Republican women such as Cornelia and Hortensia appear as active participants. Cicero’s letters make passing mention of women facilitating senatorial decisions. Imperial women were regularly appealed to by those seeking political, financial and other support. But the possession of political influence is almost impossible to measure in terms of real political power.

What is, however, a more tangible record is the political visibility of women during various periods in Rome. Rather than attempting to assess their roles behind closed doors, a far more achievable course of action is to identify women who served as public figures within these periods. Any attempt to trace the course of women’s involvement in Roman politics carries with it a degree of artificiality— in the sense that it is ridiculous (at least to us) to imagine that women were not continuously involved in politics in some fashion. As public figures in the political arena, however, it is clear that the prevalence and acceptance and indeed necessity of their presence fluctuated throughout Roman history. The general pattern which emerges, and which should not be at all surprising, is that during periods of instability and change (be it social, political, ideological or a combination thereof) women appear to have had a much more forceful public voice.

Therefore, this chapter begins by first stepping away from the early Christian corpus to discuss, in some detail, the pattern of female visibility in texts during political crisis in Republican and early Imperial Rome. This more familiar and more thoroughly studied period thus establishes a base for approaching the participation of women in

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public life in Late Antiquity.526 As demonstrated below, such a temporal survey is

necessary to the establishment of a clear tradition of textual visibility for Late Antique

women. In conjunction with this, the pattern of female textual visibility has interesting

implications for women authors, in that known and potential female writers tend

(temporally) to be clustered around periods with politically visible women.

Having established this historical trend, the chapter then moves to apply this

pattern to Late Antiquity in order to demonstrate its continuity from Republican to

Imperial to Late Antique Rome. To this end, the intersection between female political

visibility in text and female authorship of text is explored at length in the figure of

Egeria, whose identity and work both argue for a high degree of political visibility.527 At

the same time, the intersection of political crisis, instability and fluidity with an

increased presence of women in the historical record sets that stage for the final chapter

(Chapter Five) where the impact of Christianity’s generation of a religious, social, and

literary fluidity that created opportunities for women will be examined.

526 See, for example, J. M. Claassen, “The Familiar Other: The Pivotal Role of Women in Livy’s Narrative of Political Development in Early Rome,” Acta Classica 41 (1998), 71-104; R. G. Cluett, “Roman Women and Triumviral Politics 43-37 B.C.,” Échos du Monde Classique/Classical Views 42 (1998), 67-84; M. Corbier, “Male Power and Legitimacy through Women: The Domus Augusta under the Julio-Claudians,” in Women in Antiquity: New Assessments, ed. R. Hawley and B. Levick (New York: Routledge, 1995), 178-193, T. Hillard, “Republican Politics, Women, and the Evidence,” Helios 16:2 (1989), 165-182, and “On the Stage, Behind the Curtain: Images of Politically Active Women in the Late Roman Republic,” in Stereotypes of Women in Power: Historical Perspectives and Revisionist Views, ed. B. Garlick, S. Dixon and P. Allen (New York: Greenwood Press, 1992), 37-64; S. R. Joshel, “The Body Female and the Body Politic: Livy’s Lucretia and Verginia,” in Pornography and Representation in Greece and Rome, ed. A. Richlin (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992), 112-130. 527 In this chapter the concentration on Egeria is due to the fact that historical circumstances make her the best example of this particular pattern as a case study. While the other writers will be brought in on occasion, their visibility, which is predominantly religious, is better discussed in Chapter Five.

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Forerunners of Late Antique Female Authors: The Republican Voices

Evidence for female involvement in the politics of the early Republican period is very much a manifestation of the notion of crisis in the state. As discussed by Bauman, women first appear, in the political record of Rome, during the Plebeian/ conflicts of the fourth and third centuries BC.528 Two sets of trials, the poisoning trials of

331 BC, and the stuprum trials of 295 BC, each described by Livy, suggest that women of both orders were engaged in and employed for political purposes.529 The poisoning trials of 331 BC, in which almost 200 women were tried for brewing and distributing poisons, are attributed by Livy to madness on the part of the women. According to him, in that year a number of leading political figures died of a mysterious illness, which a slave girl revealed to the consuls to be not an illness at all but in fact poison. The girl led a group of officials to the homes of twenty women, where they found the women brewing poisons. The women were summoned to the forum, where they were forced to drink their own concoctions and instantly died. This incited a hunt for other women who were involved in the mass poisonings, which unearthed another 170 women, who were tried as a group in criminal court.530 The story raises a number of points. Firstly, Livy

528 R. Bauman, Women and Politics in Ancient Rome (New York: Routledge, 1992), 13. 529 On the poisoning trials of 331, see Livy 8.18. On the stuprum trials of 295, see Livy 10.31. 530 Livy, 8.18.6-8 (trans. Loeb): “She then disclosed the fact that the City was afflicted by the criminal practices of the women; that they who prepared these poisons were matrons, whom, if they would instantly attend her, they might take in the very act. They followed the informer and found certain women brewing poisons, and other poisons stored away. These concoctions were brought into the Forum, and some twenty matrons, in whose houses they had been discovered, were summoned thither by an apparitor. Two of their number, Cornelia and Sergia, of patrician houses both, asserted that these drugs were salutary. On the informer giving them the lie, and bidding them drink and prove her charges false in the sight of all, they took time to confer, and after the crowd had been dismissed they referred the question to the rest, and finding that they, like themselves, would not refuse the draught, they all drank of the poison and perished by their own wicked practices. Their attendants being instantly arrested informed against a large number of matrons, of whom one hundred and seventy were found guilty and other poisons stored away.

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names two patrician women, Cornelia and Sergia, as leaders of the group but does not

identify any of the other women as patrician. Secondly, the event seems to have been a

catalyst in the appointment of a dictator, Gnaeus Quinctilius, because in previous

secessions of the plebs a dictator was able to clear the minds of men and refocus them to

unity (in secessionibus quondam plebis clavum ab dictatore fixum alienatasque

Discordia mentes hominum eo piaculo conpotes sui fecisse, dicatatorem clavi figendi

causa creari placuit).531 This makes the question of which leading figures, patrician,

plebeian or both, were thought to have been poisoned particularly interesting. The

veracity of the events is, of course, highly suspect.532 However, as pointed out by

Yet until that day there had never been a trial for poisoning in Rome. (Tum patefactum muliebri fraude ciuitatem premi matronasque ea uenena coquere et, si sequi extemplo uelint, manifesto deprehendi posse. secuti indicem et coquentes quasdam medicamenta et recondita alia inuenerunt; quibus in forum delatis et ad uiginti matronis, apud quas deprehensa erant, per uiatorem accitis duae ex eis, Cornelia ac Sergia, patriciae utraque gentis, cum ea medicamenta salubria esse contenderent, ab confutante indice bibere iussae ut se falsum commentam arguerent, spatio ad conloquendum sumpto, cum submoto populo [in conspectu omnium] rem ad ceteras rettulissent, haud abnuentibus et illis bibere, epoto [in conspectu omnium] medicamento suamet ipsae fraude omnes interierunt. comprehensae extemplo earum comites magnum numerum matronarum indicauerunt; ex quibus ad centum septuaginta damnatae; neque de ueneficiis ante eam diem Romae quaesitum est). On women on trial in the early Republic, see H. N. Parker, “Why Were the Vestals Virgins? Or the Chastity of Women and the Safety of the Roman State,” The American Journal of Philology 125:4 (2004), esp. 580-590. For a comparison to later trials, see J. L. Beness, "The Punishment of the Gracchani and the Execution of C. Villius in 133/132," Antichthon 34 (2000) 1-17; also M.C. Alexander, Trials in the late Roman Republic, 149 BC-5O BC (Toronto 1990). Alexander’s index of defendants (p. 215-218) list numerous women who were tried in the later Republic. 531 Livy, 18.8.9. 532 Some scholars accept the basic premise of Livy’s account of this event. See W. Kunkel, Unersuchungen zur Entwicklung des römischen Kriminalverfahrens in vorsullanischer Zeit (Munich: Beck in Komm., 1962), 26-27, 58 n. 216; C. Herrmann, “Le Rôle Judiciaire et Politique des Femmes sous la République Romaine,” Latomus 76 (1964), 47-48; R. E. A. Palmer, “Roman Shrines of Female Chastity from the Cast Struggle to the Papacy of Innocent I,” Rivista Storica dell’Antichitá 4 (1974), 122, L. Schumacher, Servus Index (Wiesbaden 1982), 39-42; L. Garofalo, Il Processo Edilizio: Contributo allo Studio dei “Iudicia Populi” (Padua,1989), 128-134. However, F. Münzer, “Servilia,” Realencyclopädie der Classischen Altertumswissenschaft 2A (1923), 1721, draws attention to the fact that Cornelia and Sergia could be a deliberate reference to the Catiline conspiracy and thus are an anachronistic feature of Livy. Such concerns have led J.

187

Herrmann, it is hard to interpret this story as anything but the association of leading

Roman women with some form of political protest for which they may well have

suffered capital punishment.533

The stuprum or prostitution trials of 295 BC occurred when Rome was stricken

by plague. In this instance, Fabius Gurges, a curule , tried a number of women on

stuprum charges and collected heavy fines from them. The women in question, however,

were married women, rather than professional prostitutes. “In this year. Q. Fabius

Gurges, son of the consul, fined some matrons before the people for the charge of

adultery; from these fines he collected enough money to build the temple to Venus

which stands near the circus.”534 Bauman connects this trial to an event in the preceding

year (296) at the shrine of Pudicitia in the . A woman, Vergina, was

prohibited from worshipping there because she had married a plebeian and the shrine

was only for ‘pure’ patrician women. In response, she founded her own shrine to

Pudicitia Plebia and urged all plebeian women to demonstrate their superior ‘purity’.535

Gagé, “Matronalia. Essai sur les Devotions et les Organisations Culturelles des Femmes dans l’Ancienne Rome,” Latomus 60 (1963), 262-264, to refute this incident outright. 533 C. Herrmann, “Le Rôle Judiciaire et Politique des Femmes sous la République Romaine,” 48. 534 Livy, 10.31.8-9 (trans. Loeb): Eo anno Q. Fabius Gurges consulis filius aliquot matronas ad populum stupri damnatas pecunia multauit; ex multaticio aere Veneris aedem quae prope Circum est faciendam curauit. On stuprum trials more generally, see A. Völkl, "Stuprum," Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2011). For additional trials, see R. G. Lewis, “Catilina and the Vestal,” The Classical Quarterly 51:1 (2001), 141-149; R. A. Bauman, “The Lex Valeria de Provocatione of 300 B.C.,” Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte 22:1 (1973), 34-47; J. L. Beness, “Scipio Aemilianus and the Crisis of 129 B.C.,” Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte 54:1 (2005), 37-48. For examples of stuprum trials in the Imperial period, see P. Garnsey, “Adultery Trials and the Survival of the Quaestiones in the Severan Age,” The Journal of Roman Studies 57:1/2 (1967), 56-60. 535 Livy, 10.23.1 (trans. Loeb): “Verginia, Aulus's daughter, a patrician wedded to a commoner, Lucius Volumnius the consul, had been excluded by the matrons from their ceremonies, on the ground that she had married out of the patriciate. This led to a short dispute, which the hot anger of the sex soon kindled to a blaze of passionate contention. Verginia boasted, and with reason, that she had entered the temple of Patrician Modesty both a patrician and a modest woman, as

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Bauman connects these two events because the money collected from the trial was used

to build a temple to Venus Obsequens, which he sees as patrician attempt both to purify

the women of their order and then to demonstrate this fact.536 Unlike the events of 331

BC, which seem to suggest some degree of female control, this second trial is indicative

more of the use of women as scapegoats than anything else. At a moment of crisis within

the city, wives of the leading citizens were brought forth as a causal explanation for the

crisis, and their punishment was thought to secure the city.

The use of women as scapegoats is linked with the very public role of women as

Vestal Virgins. In particular, moments of crisis are highlighted with the hunting out and

subsequent execution of unchaste Vestals. In 337 BC the Vestal Minucia became the

first historical Vestal to be buried alive. She was also, and this is almost certainly not a

coincidence, the first plebeian woman to hold the position. Her death has been rightly

having been wedded to the one man to whom she had been given as a maiden, and was neither ashamed of her husband nor of his honours and his victories. She then added a noble deed to her proud words. In the Vicus Longus, where she lived, she shut off a part of her mansion, large enough for a shrine of moderate size, and, erecting there an altar, called together the plebeian matrons, and after complaining of the injurious behaviour of the patrician ladies, said, ‘I dedicate this altar to Plebeian Modesty; and I urge you, that even as the men of our state contend for the meed of valour, so the matrons may vie for that of modesty, that this altar may be said to be cherished —if it be possible —more reverently than that, and by more modest women.’ This altar, too, was served with almost the same ritual as that more ancient one, so that no matron but one of proven modesty, who had been wedded to one man alone, should have the right to sacrifice” (Verginiam Auli filiam, patriciam plebeio nuptam, L. Volumnio consuli, matronae quod e patribus enupsisset sacris arcuerant. Breuis altercatio inde ex iracundia muliebri in contentionem animorum exarsit, cum se Verginia et patriciam et pudicam in Patriciae Pudicitiae templum ingressam, ut uni nuptam ad quem uirgo deducta sit, nec se uiri honorumue eius ac rerum gestarum paenitere uero gloriaretur. Facto deinde egregio magnifica uerba adauxit. In uico Longo ubi habitabat, ex parte aedium quod satis esset loci modico sacello exclusit aramque ibi posuit et conuocatis plebeiis matronis conquesta iniuriam patriciarum, “hanc ego aram” inquit “Pudicitiae Plebeiae dedico; uosque hortor ut, quod certamen uirtutis uiros in hac ciuitate tenet, hoc pudicitiae inter matronas sit detisque operam ut haec ara quam illa, si quid potest, sanctius et a castioribus coli dicatur). 536 R. Bauman, Women and Politics in Ancient Rome, 15-16.

189 identified as a result of patrician backlash against encroaching plebeian rights.537 A woman is also the first on record to be tried on the charge of maiestas. In 246 BC the high-ranking Claudia, sister to Publius Pulcher, was prosecuted and fined by the plebeian after wishing quite loudly and publicly that her brother were still alive, so that he might thin out the crowds of rabble that were in her way.538

Thus, women in the early Republican period tend to appear publically at moments of political and social unrest. They appear as participants on both sides of the

Patrician/Plebeian conflict, they appear as sacrificial figures during periods of instability, and they are certainly considered capable of being both politically and criminally culpable for their acts. Indeed, Claudia’s comments resulted in a significant decline of political influence for her family for the next half-century.539

The next significant moment of female political involvement occurs during the

Punic Wars. From these years pieces of evidence speak to a female presence in politics.

Firstly, the tendency to publicize and punish women as a means to restore political stability remains present. Following Cannae, two Vestals, Opimia and Floronia, were identified as being unchaste and were executed.540 Likewise, the lex Oppia, which

537 R. Bauman, Women and Politics in Ancient Rome, 17; Bauman follows F. Münzer, “Die römischen Vestalinnen bis zur Kaiserzeit,” Philologus 92 (1937), 53-55, 64-65. On Minucia see, most recently, R. L. Wildfang, Rome’s Vestal Virgins: A Study of Rome’s Vestal Priestesses in the Late Republic and Early Empire (New York: Routledge, 2006), 83-84. On the relationship between the Vestals and Magna Mater see D. F. Sawyer, Women and Religion in the First Christian Centuries (London: Routledge, 1996), 119-129. 538 Livy, 24.16.19. 539 Following this event a Claudius does not appear on the consular fasti until 207 BC. See R. Bauman, Women and Politics in Ancient Rome, 20. 540 Livy 22.57.2-3 (trans. Loeb). “In this year two Vestals, Optima and Floronia, were found guilty of adultery and one, according to custom, was put to death under the ground at the Colline gate. The other killed herself” (Duae Vestales eo anno, Opimia atque Floronia, stupri compertae et altera sub terra, uti mos est, ad portam Collinam necata fuerat, altera sibimet ipsa mortem

190 restricted female display, carries with it implications of female failure to contribute significantly to the war effort.541 By the end of the 3rd century, however, sacrifice of

Vestals wanes as a political tool and in 207, despite a number of particularly bad omens,

27 maidens sang hymns in a procession as an act of atonement for the city.542 The transition from physically sacrificing a woman to actively employing her to pray for the city appears as a significant feature of the Punic Wars, and has particularly interesting implications for Christian women (as will be discussed below). The woman behind this, and most likely a driving force in the importation of the cult of Magna Mater, was

Aemilia, the wife of Publius Scipio. Her influence through her husband, the , in the establishment of a formalized woman’s group has been well treated by both Herrmann and Bauman and does not need to be retold here.543 The Scipionic connection to the importation of Magna Mater is further reinforced in the organization, by Scipio Nasica, of a group of matrons to greet the goddess in Ostia and bring her into the city.544 That Aemilia retains her political influence after the Punic Wars is best evidenced by her involvement in the repeal of the lex Oppia. Aemilia had always been an adamant opponent of the law and had continued to dress well even while it was in

consciuerat). On this incident see also, H. N. Parker, “Why Were the Vestals Virgins? Or the Chastity of Women and the Safety of the Roman State,” 589. 541 Compare this to the voluntary donations by senators in 210 BC as described in Livy 26.36.8. On the lex Oppia, see P. Culham, “The Lex Oppia,” Latomus 41 (1982), 181-193. 542 R. Bauman, Women and Politics in Ancient Rome, 27. 543 C. Herrmann, “Le Rôle Judiciaire et Politique des Femmes sous la République Romaine,” 58- 59; R. Bauman, Women and Politics in Ancient Rome, 26-30. For a general introduction to Aemilia see S. Dixon, “ on Roman Women and Property,” The American Journal of Philology, 106: 2 (1985), 151. On the cult of Magna Mater, see also P. J. Burton, “The Summoning of the Magna Mater to Rome (205 B.C.),” Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte 45:1 (1996), 36-63. 544 R. Bauman, Women and Politics in Ancient Rome, 13. On the cult of Magna Mater, see also P. J. Burton, “The Summoning of the Magna Mater to Rome (205 B.C.),” 36-63, esp. 36 n.5, 57.

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effect.545 Cato’s speech in opposition to the repeal makes a special point of attacking

Aemilia, which has been convincingly employed to identify her as a leader of the

protest.546

The first potential writings from a woman appear in yet another instance of

political unrest and upheaval. Cornelia, one of the most visible women of the Republican

period, is also credited with several letters. Significant constitutional change was

undertaken during the Gracchan era, and Cornelia is very prominently placed within this

epoch. Cornelia’s support for her sons is not consistent in the sources. On the one hand,

both Plutarch and record her as pushing her sons forward in public life. She is

described, early in their political careers, as criticizing Tiberius and Gaius because she

was only known as the mother-in-law of Scipio, rather than the mother of the Gracchi:

“But some put part of the blame upon Cornelia the mother of Tiberius, who often

reproached her sons because the Romans still called her the mother-in‑law of Scipio, but

not yet the mother of the Gracchi.”547 Cornelia is also said to have hired mercenaries for

545 Polybius, 31.26.2-4 (trans. Loeb) “This lady whose name was Aemilia, used to display great magnificence whenever she left her house to take part in the ceremonies that women attend, having participated in the fortune of Scipio when he was at the height of his prosperity. For apart from the richness of her own dress and of the decorations of her carriage, all the baskets, cups, and other utensils for the sacrifice were either of gold or silver, and were borne in her train on all such solemn occasions” (ταύτης ἀπολιπούσης οὐσίαν µεγάλην κληρονόµος ὢν πρῶτον ἐν τούτοις ἔµελλε πεῖραν δώσειν τῆς ἑαυτοῦ προαιρέσεως. συνέβαινε δὲ τὴν Αἰµιλίαν, τοῦτο γὰρ ἦν ὄνοµα τῇ προειρηµένῃ γυναικί, µεγαλοµερῆ τὴν περίστασιν ἔχειν ἐν ταῖς γυναικείαις ἐξόδοις, ἅτε συνηκµακυῖαν τῷ βίῳ καὶ τῇ τύχῃ τῇ Σκιπίωνος. χωρὶς γὰρ τοῦ περὶ τὸ σῶµα καὶ τὴν ἀπήνην κόσµου καὶ τὰ κανᾶ καὶ τὰ ποτήρια καὶ τἄλλα τὰ πρὸς τὴν θυσίαν, ποτὲ µὲν ἀργυρᾶ, ποτὲ δὲ χρυσᾶ, πάντα συνεξηκολούθει κατὰ τὰς ἐπιφανεῖς ἐξόδους αὐτῇ). 546 H. H. Scullard, Scipio Africanus: Soldier and Politician (London, 1970), 188. 547 Plut. Tiberius Gracchus, 8.5 (trans. Loeb): ἔνιοι δὲ καὶ Κορνηλίαν συνεπαιτιῶνται τὴν µητέρα πολλάκις τοὺς υἱοὺς ὀνειδίζουσαν ὅτι Ῥωµαῖοι Σκηπίωνος αὐτὴν ἔτι πενθεράν, οὔπω δὲ µητέρα Γράγχων προσαγορεύουσιν.

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Gaius and been an active advisor in his policy. 548 Appian goes so far as to link her to the

death of Scipio, in order to remove a political opponent to Gaius.549

The letters of Cornelia are problematic. The “fragments” of her letters which have

been preserved by Cornelius Nepos are mostly a condemnation of her sons’

revolutionary politics, which puts the writings at odds with her reported actions.550 The

548 Plut. Gaius Gracchus, 4.2 and 13.2 (trans. Loeb): “But the other law was withdrawn by Caius himself, who said that he spared Octavius at the request of his mother Cornelia… We are also told that his mother took active part in his seditious activities, by secretly hiring from foreign parts and sending to Rome men who were ostensibly reapers; for to this matter there are said to have been obscure allusions in her letters to her son. Others, however, say that Cornelia was very much displeased with these activities of her son” (τὸν δὲ ἕτερον νόµον Γάιος αὐτὸς ἐπανείλετο, φήσας τῇ µητρὶ Κορνηλίᾳ δεηθείσῃ χαρίζεσθαι τὸν Ὀκτάβιον…ἐνταῦθα καὶ τὴν µητέρα λέγουσιν αὐτῷ συστασιάσαι, µισθουµένην ἀπὸ τῆς ξένης κρύφα καὶ πέµπουσαν εἰς ' Ῥώµην ἄνδρας, ὡς δὴ θεριστάς ταῦτα γὰρ ἐν τοῖς ἐπιστολίοις αὐτῆς ᾐνιγµένα γεγράφθαι πρὸς τὸν υἱόν. ἕτεροι δὲ καὶ πάνυ τῆς Κορνηλίας δυσχεραινούσης ταῦτα πράττεσθαι λέγουσιν). 22 Appian, BC, 1.3.20 (trans. Loeb): “When the people heard these charges they were in a state of alarm until Scipio, after placing near his couch at home one evening a tablet on which to write during the night the speech he intended to deliver before the people, was found dead in his bed without a wound. Whether this was done by Cornelia, the mother of the Gracchi (aided by her daughter, Sempronia, who though married to Scipio was both unloved and unloving because she was deformed and childless), lest the law of Gracchus should be abolished, or whether, as some think, he committed suicide because he saw plainly that he could not accomplish what he had promised, is not known” (ὧν ὁ δῆµος ἀκροώµενος ἐδεδίει, µέχρις ὁ Σκιπίων, ἑσπέρας παραθέµενος ἑαυτῷ δέλτον, εἰς ἣν νυκτὸς ἔµελλε γράψειν τὰ λεχθησόµενα ἐν τῷ δήµῳ, νεκρὸς ἄνευ τραύµατος εὑρέθη, εἴτε Κορνηλίας αὐτῷ, τῆς Γράκχου µητρός, ἐπιθεµένης, ἵνα µὴ ὁ νόµος ὁ Γράκχου λυθείη, καὶ συλλαβούσης ἐς τοῦτο Σεµπρωνίας τῆς θυγατρός, ἣ τῷ Σκιπίωνι γαµουµένη διὰ δυσµορφίαν καὶ ἀπαιδίαν οὔτ᾽ ἐστέργετο οὔτ᾽ ἔστεργεν, εἴθ᾽, ὡς ἔνιοι δοκοῦσιν, ἑκὼν ἀπέθανε συνιδών, ὅτι οὐκ ἔσοιτο δυνατὸς κατασχεῖν ὧν ὑπόσχοιτο). 550 Cornelius Nepos fr. 2. (trans. E. J. Kenny, The Cambridge History of Classical Literature II: Latin Literature, [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982], 146): You will say that it is a beautiful thing to take on vengeance on enemies. To no one does this seem either greater or more beautiful than it does to me, but only if it is possible to pursue these aims without harming our country. But seeing as that cannot be done, our enemies will not perish for a long time and for many reasons, and they will be as they are now rather than have our country be destroyed and perish. . . . I would dare to take an oath solemnly, swearing that, except for those who have murdered Tiberius Gracchus, no enemy has foisted so much difficulty and so much distress upon me as you have because of these matters: you should have shouldered the responsibilities of all of those children whom I had in the past, and to make sure that I might have the least anxiety possible in my old age; and that, whatever you did, you would wish to please me most greatly; and that you would consider it sacrilegious to do anything of great significance contrary to my feelings, especially as I am someone with only a short portion of my life left. Cannot even that time span, as brief as it is, be of help in keeping you from opposing me and destroying our country? In the final analysis, what end will there be? When will our family stop behaving

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resolution of her conflicting viewpoints is not particularly complex. The author of the

letters almost certainly was not her. Indeed, authorship is best credited to Cornelius

Nepos himself.551 However, it seems significant that the writings were ascribed to her at

such a politically charged moment. Hence, the letters record the propaganda that ensued

after the death of the Gracchi more than anything else. What the record does preserve in

this conflict is the dynamic political persona of Cornelia. While her sons were alive, it

seems that she was a visible political figure, assumed at least to have a degree of

insanely? When will we cease insisting on troubles, both suffering and causing them? When will we begin to feel shame about disrupting and disturbing our country? But if this is altogether unable to take place, seek the office of when I will be dead; as far as I am concerned, do what will please you, when I shall not perceive what you are doing. When I have died, you will sacrifice to me as a parent and call upon the god of your parent. At that time does it not shame you to seek prayers of those gods, whom you considered abandoned and deserted when they were alive and on hand? May Jupiter not for a single instant allow you to continue in these actions nor permit such madness to come into your mind. And if you persist, I fear that, by your own fault, you may incur such trouble for your entire life that at no time would you be able to make yourself happy” (Id neque maius neque pulchrius cuiquam atque mihi esse videtur, sed si liceat re publica salva ea persequi. Sed quatenus id fieri non potest, multo tempore multisque partibus inimici nostri non peribunt atque, uti nunc sunt, erunt potius quam res publica profligetur atque pereat. Eadem alio loco Verbis conceptis deierare ausim, praeterquam qui Tiberium Gracchum necarunt, neminem inimicum tantum molestiae tantumque laboris, quantum te ob has res, mihi tradidisse: quem oportebat omnium eorum, quos antehac habui liberos, partis [eorum] tolerare atque curare, ut quam minimum sollicitudinis in senecta haberem, utique, quaecumque ageres, ea velles maxime mihi placere, atque uti nefas haberes rerum maiorum adversum meam sententiam quicquam facere, praesertim mihi, cui parva pars vitae superest. Ne id quidem tam breve spatium potest opitulari, quin et mihi adversere et rem publicam profliges? Denique quae pausa erit? Ecquando desinet familia nostra insanire? Ecquando modus ei rei haberi poterit? Ecquando desinemus et habentes et praebentes molestiis insistere? Ecquando perpudescet miscenda atque perturbanda re publica? Sed si omnino id fieri non potest, ubi ego mortua ero, petito tribunatum: per me facito quod lubebit, cum ego non sentiam. Ubi mortua ero, parentabis mihi et invocabis deum parentem. In eo tempore non pudet te eorum deum preces expetere, quos vivos atque praesentes relictos atque desertos habueris? Ne ille sirit Iuppiter te ea perseverare nec tibi tantam dementiam venire in animum! Et si perseveras, vereor, ne in omnem vitam tantum laboris culpa tua recipias, uti in nullo tempore tute tibi placere possis. 551 On Cornelia’s letters, see, most recently, S. Dixon, Cornelia: Mother of the Gracchi (New York: Routledge, 2007), 26-29. For more detail on Cornelia’s letters, see E. A. Hemelrijk, Matrona Docta: Educated women in the Roman elite from Cornelia to Julia Domna, 193-197; N. Horsfall, “The ‘Letter of Cornelia’: Yet More Problems,” Athenaeum 65 (1987), 231-234; H. U. Instinsky, “Zur Echtheitsfrage de Brieffragment der Cornelia, Mutter der Gracchen,” Chiron 1 (1971): 177-89. See also Chapter One, n.142.

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influence in political decisions. With the death of her sons, her political persona altered,

but did not disappear. Cornelia’s presence in and support of current political affairs was

accepted or possibly even sought, even to the point of propagating a textual voice.

The Gracchan period provides one other political woman who ought at least to be

mentioned. This is Cornelia’s daughter Sempronia, who was called in as a witness in a

public trial in the forum over the potential paternity of L. Equitius, who was claiming to

be the son of Tiberius Gracchus. ’ account of her testimony suggests

her familiarity with political theatrics.552 “In unsettled times, she lived up to the grandeur

of her family.” Valerius’ remark precisely confirms the obvious pattern of female

political involvement in the Republic. In times of crisis women were invested with a

great deal of political visibility. What had begun as tendency to single out women in a

negative manner to mitigate political problems, by the Gracchan period appears to have

transitioned into the use of women as public figures to support political goals. As a

result, women seem to have held considerable influence within the political realm.

552 Valerius Maximus, 3.8.6 (trans. R. Bauman, Women and Politics in Ancient Rome, 49): “But what does a woman have to do with a public meeting? By ancestral custom, nothing. But in times of unrest custom goes by the board. It would be absurd to connect Sempronia with the weighty doings of men, but she deserves a mention because, when brought before the people by a tribune in unsettled times, she lived up to the grandeur of her family. Standing up in public, facing the stern looks of leading men, the browbeating of a tribune, and the demands of the crowd for her to kiss Equitius in recognition of his birth, she adamantly refused” (Quid feminae cum contione? si patrius mos seruetur, nihil: sed ubi domestica quies seditionum agitata fluctibus est, priscae consuetudinis auctoritas conuellitur, plusque ualet quod uiolentia cogit quam quod suadet et praecipit uerecundia. itaque te, Sempronia, Ti. et C. Gracchorum soror, uxor Scipionis Aemiliani, non ut absurde te grauissimis uirorum operibus inserentem, maligna relatione conprehendam, sed quia ab tribuno plebei producta ad populum in maxima confusione nihil a tuorum amplitudine degenerasti, honorata memoria prosequar. coacta es eo loci consistere, ubi principum ciuitatis perturbari frons solebat, instabat tibi toruo uultu minas profundens amplissima potestas, clamore imperitae multitudinis obstrepens totum forum acerrimo studio nitebatur ut Equitio, cui Semproniae gentis falsum ius quaerebatur, tamquam filio Tiberii fratris tui osculum dares).

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In the first century BC, a time of nearly continual political disaster and change, it is not surprising that women are more prevalent in the political arena than ever. Cicero was guided to his decision to put the convicted Catilinarians to death by omens that the

Vestals and his wife Terentia witnessed. Upon seeing a sacred fire relight itself, Terentia immediately went to Cicero to tell him his course was correct.553 Plutarch, indeed, remarked that Terentia was always much more interested in establishing herself as a partner in his, Cicero’s, political activities than in sharing with him her domestic issues.554 The Catilinarian conspiracy introduces the political manoeuverings of two other women: Sempronia, the same Sempronia who was noted for writing verse, and

Fulvia, the mistress of one of the conspirators. According to Sallust, Catiline sought to recruit women of means because they had the ability to control their slaves and their husbands and so could provide valuable military and political support.555 Sempronia appears to have facilitated at least one important meeting for the conspirators at her home at which Allobrogian envoys and Gabinius were present.556 Fulvia is the woman who informed Cicero about the conspiracy. As the mistress of one of the conspirators, when she learned what was being planned, she immediately informed the consul and began the process of uncovering the plot.557

553 Plutarch, Cicero, 20.2. On this incident see R. Bauman, Women and Politics in Ancient Rome, 62-63. 554 Plutarch, Cicero, 20.2. 555 Sallust, Cat. 24.3-25.5. On Sallust’s treatment of Sempronia, see B. W. Boyd, “ Virtus Effeminate and Sallust’s Sempronia,” Transactions of the American Philological Association 117 (1987), 183-201; G. M. Paul, “Sallust’s Sempronia: The Portrait of a Lady,” in Papers of the Liverpool Latin Seminar V 1985 (Liverpool: Cairns, 1986), 9-22. 556 Sallust, Cat. 40.5-6; for more on Sempronia, see also E. A. Hemelrijk, Matrona Docta: Educated women in the Roman elite from Cornelia to Julia Domna, 84-86. 557 Appian, BC, 2.3; Plut. Cic. 16.2; Sallust, Cat. 23.3-4, 26.3, 28.2. On Fulvia’s involvement, see D. A. March, “Cicero and the ‘Gang of Five’,” The Classical World 82:4 (1989), 226.

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In this period women also begin to appear as political campaigners in much more

forceful, and not always familial, contexts. Lucullus sought out Praecia in order to gain

the command of Cilicia, as she had the connections to procure such a thing.558 Chelidon

was the source of information and influence in many matters pertaining to city

legislation.559 Servilia appears at the center of a vast connection of men who employed

her as an intermediary and negotiator.560

Women also continue to appear as protestors. Hortensia, whose speech in 42 BC

in the forum against a tax was recorded by Appian, is yet another example of increased

political visibility of women during moments of political upheaval.561 While there is no

558 Plut. Luc. 6.2-4. 559 Cicer, Verr. 2.1.136-40, 120. 560 On her ability to change senatorial decrees, see Cic. Att. 15.7, 11.1. On her management of military planning meetings “like a consul”, see Cic. Ad. Brut. 1.18. For a general introduction to Servilia and her political influence see J. Fündling, “Servilia,” Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2012); R. Bauman, Women and Politics in Ancient Rome, 73-76. 561 Appian, BC 4.5.32-33 (trans. Loeb): “As befitted women of our rank addressing a petition to you, we had recourse to the ladies of your households; but having been treated as did not befit us, at the hands of Fulvia, we have been driven by her to the forum. You have already deprived us of our fathers, our sons, our husbands, and our brothers, whom you accused of having wronged you; if you take away our property also, you reduce us to a condition unbecoming our birth, our manners, our sex. If we have done you wrong, as you say our husbands have, proscribe us as you do them. But if we women have not voted any of you public enemies, have not torn down your houses, destroyed your army, or led another one against you; if we once rise superior to their sex and made contributions when you were in danger of losing the whole empire and the city itself through the conflict with the Carthaginians. But then they contributed voluntarily, not from their landed property, their fields, their dowries, or their houses, without which life is not possible to free women, but only from their own jewellery, and even these not according to the fixed valuation, not under fear of informers or accusers, not by force and violence, but what they themselves were willing to give. What alarm is there now for the empire or the country? Let war with the Gauls or the Parthians come, and we shall not be inferior to our mothers in zeal for the common safety; but for civil wars may we never contribute, nor ever assist you against each other! We did not contribute to Caesar or to Pompey. Neither Marius nor Cinna imposed taxes upon us. Nor did Sulla, who held despotic power in the state, do so, whereas you say that you are re-establishing the commonwealth” (ὃ µὲν ἥρµοζε δεοµέναις ὑµῶν γυναιξὶ τοιαῖσδε, ἐπὶ τὰς γυναῖκας ὑµῶν κατεφύγοµεν: ὃ δὲ οὐχ ἥρµοζεν, ὑπὸ Φουλβίας παθοῦσαι, ἐς τὴν ἀγορὰν συνεώσµεθα ὑπ᾽ αὐτῆς. ὑµεῖς δ᾽ ἡµᾶς ἀφείλεσθε µὲν ἤδη γονέας τε καὶ παῖδας καὶ ἄνδρας καὶ ἀδελφοὺς ἐπικαλοῦντες, ὅτι πρὸς αὐτῶν ἠδίκησθε: εἰ δὲ καὶ τὰ χρήµατα προσαφέλοισθε, περιστήσετε ἐς ἀπρέπειαν ἀναξίαν γένους καὶ τρόπων καὶ φύσεως γυναικείας. εἰ µὲν δή τι καὶ

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way to know if Appian’s version of Hortensia’s speech is in any way accurate, it can be

presumed to reflect actual events. Women did march on the forum, Hortensia did give a

speech, and, in addition, other women clearly opposed the protest.562 Fulvia, the wife of

Mark Antony, who was also highly involved with the politics of this time, refused to

assist or participate in the march and spoke for her husband on the matter.563 Fulvia was

present at numerous events during the triumviral period. She testified at Milo’s trial for

the death of her first husband, P. Clodius.564 She is identified as the force behind the

restoration of Deiotarus’ kingdom.565 She was almost certainly an active campaigner for

Cicero’s proscription. Cassius Dio comments that, during 41 BC, while both Antony and

πρὸς ἡµῶν, οἷον ὑπὸ τῶν ἀνδρῶν, ἠδικῆσθαί φατε, προγράψατε καὶ ἡµᾶς ὡς ἐκείνους. εἰ δὲ οὐδένα ὑµῶν αἱ γυναῖκες οὔτε πολέµιον ἐψηφισάµεθα οὔτε καθείλοµεν οἰκίαν ἢ στρατὸν διεφθείραµεν ἢ ἐπηγάγοµεν ἕτερον ἢ ἀρχῆς ἢ τιµῆς τυχεῖν ἐκωλύσαµεν, τί κοινωνοῦµεν τῶν κολάσεων αἱ τῶν ἀδικηµάτων οὐ µετασχοῦσαι; τί δὲ ἐσφέρωµεν αἱ µήτε ἀρχῆς µήτε τιµῆς µήτε στρατηγίας µήτε τῆς πολιτείας ὅλως, τῆς ὑµῖν ἐς τοσοῦτον ἤδη κακοῦ περιµαχήτου, µετέχουσαι; ὅτι φατὲ πόλεµον εἶναι; καὶ πότε οὐ γεγόνασι πόλεµοι; καὶ πότε γυναῖκες συνεισήνεγκαν; ἃς ἡ µὲν φύσις ἀπολύει παρὰ ἅπασιν ἀνθρώποις, αἱ δὲ µητέρες ἡµῶν ὑπὲρ τὴν φύσιν ἐσήνεγκάν ποτε ἅπαξ, ὅτε ἐκινδυνεύετε περὶ τῇ ἀρχῇ πάσῃ καὶ περὶ αὐτῇ τῇ πόλει, Καρχηδονίων ἐνοχλούντων. καὶ τότε δὲ ἐσήνεγκαν ἑκοῦσαι, καὶ οὐκ ἀπὸ γῆς ἢ χωρίων ἢ προικὸς ἢ οἰκιῶν, ὧν χωρὶς ἀβίωτόν ἐστιν ἐλευθέραις, ἀλλὰ ἀπὸ µόνων τῶν οἴκοι κόσµων, οὐδὲ τούτων τιµωµένων οὐδὲ ὑπὸ µηνυταῖς ἢ κατηγόροις οὐδὲ πρὸς ἀνάγκην ἢ βίαν, ἀλλ᾽ ὅσον ἐβούλοντο αὐταί. τίς οὖν καὶ νῦν ἐστιν ὑµῖν περὶ τῆς ἀρχῆς ἢ περὶ τῆς πατρίδος φόβος; ἴτω τοίνυν ἢ Κελτῶν πόλεµος ἢ Παρθυαίων, καὶ οὐ χείρους ἐς σωτηρίαν ἐσόµεθα τῶν µητέρων. ἐς δὲ ἐµφυλίους πολέµους µήτε ἐσενέγκαιµέν ποτε µήτε συµπράξαιµεν ὑµῖν κατ᾽ ἀλλήλων. οὐδὲ γὰρ ἐπὶ Καίσαρος ἢ Ποµπηίου συνεφέροµεν, οὐδὲ Μάριος ἡµᾶς οὐδὲ Κίννας ἠνάγκασεν οὐδὲ Σύλλας, ὁ τυραννήσας τῆς πατρίδος: ὑµεῖς δέ φατε καὶ καθίστασθαι τὴν πολιτείαν). 562 On Hortensia, see J. P. Hallett, Father and Daughters in Roman Society: Women and the Elite Family (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1984), 338-343. 563 C. L. Babcock, “The Early Career of Fulvia,” The American Journal of Philology, 86:1 (1965), 23-24. 564 Ascon. 36 St; B. A. Marshall, A Historical Commentary on Asconius (Columbia, 1985), 167. 565 Cicero, Phil. 2.95, 5.11; Att. 14.21.1. See also R. Bauman, Women and Politics in Ancient Rome, 84.

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Octavian were away from Rome, Fulvia ruled the city outright and had total control of the senate.566 Lastly, of course, she was heavily involved in the Perusine war.

Perhaps significantly, the first extant female poet, Sulpicia, is roughly contemperaneous to this period.567 Unlike Cornelia, Sulpicia does not seem to have had any political visibility; however, also unlike Cornelia, her authorship is not in serious dispute.

Therefore, it seems that the best-known female figures from the early Republic appear as political figures. What is most of interest here is not evaluating their actual political power, but recognizing their political visibility in text. That is to say, Cornelia’s authority is very difficult to determine, but her visibility in the sources was pronounced.

Hers was a vital role of support, both during her sons’ lives and after, when the fragility of political stability allowed for, or even required, the stabilizing influence of prominent women. Hortensia’s protest speech also occurred in a time of fragility, and, during it, women were able to speak against legislation with some force.

From a textual perspective, then, it is possible to see that the women who became prominent in public are clustered around moments of change or crisis in the political sense. It is also impossible, by the end of the period, to see these women as anything but active political participants, well integrated into the Roman political system. What may

566 Cassius Dio, 48.4.1, 48.5.1. While not a contemporary source (c. AD 150-225) Cassius Dio’s comments certainly suggest that Fulvia had long-standing political visibility. H. Stegmann, “Fulvia,” Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2012), suggests that sources exaggerated her political influence either to emphasize her greed for power or in an effort to recast Octavian’s and Antony’s actions in a more positive light. In contrast, Babcock, “The Early Career of Fulvia,” 31-32, suggests that Fulvia’s political influence was both real and substantial. 567 While there are no firm dates for Sulpicia, her uncle Messalla’s life is dated 64 B.C. to 8 AD. This suggests that Sulpicia was born perhaps around 40 B.C.

199 have begun as a role of religious atonement had certainly evolved into a much more autonomous political identity. Particularly significant to this thesis is the fact that female writers both potential (Cornelia) and known (Sulpicia) emerge from these periods of hightened political tension. In other words these periods seem to correlate to increased female visibility in text.

Forerunners of Late Antique Female Authors: The Imperial Voices

With the rise of the Empire and the Julio-Claudians, a time of massive transformation for Rome, women again are highly visible in the political realm, both as active participants with political agendas and as figures being used to stabilize and reinforce the Imperial agenda. In many cases women were both. Livia, often seen as the case study for Julio-Claudian women, held a critical role as a public ideal and as a political patron.568 Agrippina the Elder held tremendous political influence, and her daughter, Agrippina the Younger, essentially ruled the empire during the youth of

Nero.569 While the Julio-Claudian era may not seem like a time of crisis in the way that the Punic Wars were, it was a time of instability, during which roles and ideals were in transition. Again, Agrippina the Younger’s commentarii take on a new significance in light of female visibility during the Julio-Claudian period. Indeed, the political nature of

568 For an extensive overview of Livia, see A. Barrett, Livia: First Lady of Imperial Rome (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2002). See also J. Burns, Great Women of Imperial Rome: Mother and Wives of the Caesars (London: Routledge, 2007), 5-24; R. Bauman, Women and Politics in Ancient Rome, 99-129. 569 J. Ginsburg, Representing Agrippina: Constructions of Female Power in the Early Roman Empire (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006); A. Barrett, Agrippina: Sex, Power, and Politics in the Early Empire; R. Bauman, Women and Politics in Ancient Rome, 179-210.

200 her chosen genre seems highly suggestive of her own political autonomy and those of contemporary Julio-Claudian women.570

Thus, for the women of the ruling class, the importance of their public role in preserving order naturally resulted in a continued political voice, comparable to that of women in the late Republic. Such an interpretation may contribute to an understanding of why other periods of Roman history present women in much more passive political roles. The lack of political authority held by women in the second century has been commented on by Boatwright.571 She suggests that there is a lacuna in political voice for women during the Trajanic/Hadrianic period. While she relates this in large part to a decrease in the personal wealth of the women of this period, it is equally plausible that the overall stability of the empire during this time rendered female political visibility less of a necessity, at least in terms of textual visibility. The Empire was well into its

“golden” age, and Imperial ideology well established. This is not to say that Imperial women were uninvolved in politics, but rather that their public visibility as political patrons appears significantly reduced. Indeed, only in the brief moment of panic over

Hadrian’s succession does a woman appear in the political arena. This, of course, is

Plotina Augusta and her masterful control of information surrounding the death of

Trajan.572 Plotina’s other instance of political visibility is in a set of letters inscribed at the Epicurean school in Athens. The Epicureans had clearly approached her to act as an intermediary to Hadrian in a matter of internal legislation. The first inscription is her letter to Hadrian asking that he allow the Epicureans to discuss this change with him.

570 On the political aspects of commentarii see n.48 in the Introduction. 571 M. T. Boatwright, “The Imperial Women of the Early Second Century,” The American Journal of Philology 112:4 (1991), 513-540. 572 P. A. Roche, “The Public Image of Trajan’s Family,” Classical Philology 97:1 (2002), 47-49.

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[--- /in the consulship of Marcus Annius Verus for the second time and Gnaeus A]rrius Augus (AD 121). From Plotina Augusta. [How great my enthusiasm] is towards the school of Epicurus, you know very well, my lord. Prompt assistance from you must be given to its succession [for, because] it is only permitted Roman citizens to be successors (to head the school), [the opportunity] of choosing on is reduced to narrow limits. Therefore, [I ask] in the name of Popillius Theotimus, who is presently the successor (head of school) at Athens, that he be permitted by you to write his testament in Greek about the part of his (testamentary) decisions which pertain to the regulation of the successions and that he be empowered to name as a successor to himself a person of non-Roman status, if such a person’s qualifications convince him; and (I ask) that what you grant to Theotimus the future successor (to head) the school of Epicurus therefore may also enjoy the same legal rights. All the more (do I ask) because it has been the practice,

as often as an error had been made by a testator about the election of a successor, that by common consent a substitution is made by the stud- ents of the same school of the person who will be the best (successor), and that will be done more easily, if he is chosen from a great number (of candidates).573

573 ILS 7784 (trans. R. K. Sherk, The Roman Empire: Augustus to Hadrian [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988], 144.): [M. Annio Vero II, Cn. A]rrio Augure co[s.]/ a Plotina Augusta./[quod studium meum] erga sectam Epicuri sit, optime scis, d[omi]ne. huius successioni a te succurendum/ [est. nunc quia n]on licet nisi ex civibus Romanis adsumi diad[o]chum, in angustum redigitur eligendi/ [facultas. rogo er]go nomine Popilli Theotimi, qui est modo diado[c]hus Athenis, ut illi permittatur a te et Graece/ [t]estari circa hanc partem iudiciorum suorum quae ad diadoches ordinationem pertinet et peregrei-/ nae condicionis posse sub[s]tituere sibi successorum, s[i i]ta suaserit profectus personae; et quod Theotimo/ concesseris, ut eodem iure et deinceps utantur futuri diadochi sectae Epicuri, eo magis quod opservatur,/ quotiens erratum est a testatore circa electionem [di]adochi, ut communi consilio substituatur a studio-/ sis eiusdem sec[t]ae qui optimus erit: quod facilius fiet, si e[x] compluribus eligatur./ [I]mp. Caesar Traianus Hadrianus Aug. Popillio Theotimo: permitto Graece testari de eis quae pertinent ad diado-/ chen sectae Epicureae. set cum et facilius successorem e[l]ecturus sit, si ex peregrinis quoque substituendi facul-/ tatem abuerit, hoc etiam praesto e deinceps ceteris [qui] diadochen habuerint: licebit vel im pegreinum vel/ in

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The second inscription is a letter Plotina then wrote to the Epicureans, telling them that she had written to Hadrian; it is full of her admiration for the Epicureans and their studies.574

From Plotina Augusta to all her friends--Greeting! We have what we were eager to obtain, leave for the Head of the Sect to regulate the succession by his Will in Greek, and to nominate anyone he likes, Greek or Roman, to the next Headship. For this most excellent permission we owe great thanks to our true benefactor, the Director-General of Education, our most august Emperor, and most dear in all respects to me both as my worthy Lord and as my own very dear son. It therefore behooves each one who may be entrusted with the decision concerning the Headship always to try to choose the best of his comrades in the Sect into his own

civem Romanum ius hoc transferri. 574 (trans. B. W. Henderson, The Life and Principate of Hadrian [London: Methuen, 1923], 51): Πλωτεῖνα Σεβαστὴ πᾶσι τοῖς φίλοις χαίρειν. [ἔ]χοµεν οὗ τυχεῖν ἐσπεύδοµεν· συνκεχώ-/ ρηται γὰρ τῶι διαδόχωι, ὃς ἂν µέλληι τῆς Ἐπικούρου διαδοχῆς ἀφηγεῖσθαι τῆς οὔσης ἐν/ Ἀθήναις, καὶ πᾶν τὸ πρὸς τὴν διαδοχὴν ἀν[ῆ]κον οἰκονόµηµα Ἑλληνικῆι διαθήκηι δι-/ ατάσσεσθαι καὶ αἱρεῖσθαι εἴτε Ἕλληνα εἴτε Ῥωµαῖον βούλοιτο τὸν προστατήσοντα τῆς/ διαδοχῆς. καλῆς οὖν τῆς ἐξουσίας προσγ[εγ]ενηµένης ἧς ἀξίαν χάριν ὀφείλοµεν εἰδέ-/ ναι τῶι ὡς ἀληθῶς εὐεργέτηι καὶ πάσης π[α]ιδείας κοσµητῆι ὄντι καὶ κατὰ τοῦτο σε[βα]σµιω-/ τάτωι αὐτοκράτορι, ἐµοὶ δὲ προσφιλεστάτω[ι] κατὰ πάντα καὶ ὡς διαφέροντι κυρίωι καὶ ὡ[ς ἀ]γαθῶι/ τέκνωι, κατάλληλον ὑπάρχει ἕκαστον τῶν πεπιστευµένων τὴν κρίσιν τῆς προστατείας τὸν ἄ-/ ριστον αἰεὶ ἐκ τῶν ὁµοδόξων πειρᾶσθαι ἀντικαθιστάνειν εἰς τὸν ἑαυτοῦ τόπον καὶ πλεῖον/ νέµειν τῆι τῶν ὅλων ὄψει ἢ τῆι ἰδίαι [πρ]ός τινας συνηθεί[αι]. ἐµοὶ µὲν οὖν ἤρεσκε µηδὲ [ἀγα]π[ᾶν τι]-/νας µάλλον τῶν διαφέρειν δοξάντων κατὰ τὴν δύναµιν τῶν λό[γ]ω[ν τ]ῶν [ἡµ]ετέρων καὶ κατὰ/ τὸ ἀκόλουθον ἐν τῆι κατὰ τὴν διάθεσ[ιν τ]ῶν [ἠθ]ῶν ὑπεροχῇ. εἰ δ’ ἄρα τοῦτο µὴ γείνοιτο, οὐ παρὰ/ τὴν ἰδίαν τοῦ πράγµατος φύσιν, ἀλλὰ παρὰ τὴν ἡµῶν αὐτῶν ἀσθένειαν ἢ διά τινα ἄλλην τυχικὴν/ ἐµπόδισιν, τό γε τὸν ὑπὲρ τοῦ κοινοῦ θρησκεύµατος βουλευόµενον καθήκειν οἴοµαι [σ]το-/ χάζεσθαι τοῦ ἀρέσοντος [κοιν]ῆι πᾶσιν καὶ µὴ τοῦ ἰδίαι ἑαυτῶι. µὰ τὸν Δία δὲ οὐδὲ νοµίζω/ τὸν ἀντιλαβόµενον [τῆς] ὠφελίας τῆς ἐκ τῶν λόγων περιγεγενηµένης αὐτῶι καὶ χά-/ [ριν ἔχ]οντα τῶι τοιο[ύτωι συ]ναισθήµατι αὐτοῦ παρὰ τὸ ἐπιλογισµῶι χρῆσθαι τῶι µὴ ἐάσον-/ [τι αὐτὸν] παρεξεν[εγκεῖν τ]ὸ µέγεθος τῆς δωρεᾶς µὴ οὐχὶ οὕτως διατεθήσεσθαι ὥστε καὶ / — — — — — — — — τὸ τοῦ σεµνώµατος τήρηµα τοῦ τόπου ἐκείνου, ὃς περιέχει τὰ/ — — — — — — — — καὶ τὴν γνώµην δὲ τὴν ὑπὲρ τῆς καθηγεµονίας τοῦ σωτῆρος ητ̣--/[— — — — — — πρώτου?] κυρίου καθεσταµένου τῆς σχολῆς ὄντων κατ’ ἐκεῖνον [τὸν καιρὸν? ] / [— — — — — — — Ἐπικ]ούρωι κατὰ τἆλλα ἰδιώµατα οὐ κατὰ τὴν ὑπεροχὴ[ν — — — — — — — —]/ — — — — — — — — — — —µένου ἐτέρων τε πλειόνων κ— — — —/

203

place, and therewith to pay regard rather to the general good than to any private friendship. I therefore think that we ought…575

Plotina’s letters are interesting in that they suggest a continuity from earlier

Roman history of support of philosophical and literary circles by elite women, even in periods where they may have had more limited political roles.576

As the correlation between female political visibility and Roman political crisis is well-established at this point, it should come as no surprise that the public political involvement of women rose once again during the Severan dynasty. The stability of the early second century had given way to nearly continual defensive war, and, following

Severus, a lack of viable emperors. Julia Domna, whose role as an intellectual and literary patron has already been discussed, is also visible in the political realm. While she is often noted for traveling with her husband Septimius Severus, and participating in public support of his goals, it was with his death, and that of Geta, that her political prominence truly rises.577 Evidence for this comes from a number of different sources.

Dio notes that she was put in charge of handling Caracalla’s correspondence, thus dealing with the daily administrative duties in both languages.578 According to Dio, upon the death of Caracalla, she herself chose death over giving up the power that she held

575 On this inscription, see also J. H. Oliver, “The Empress Plotina and the Sacred Thymelic Synod,” Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte, 24:1 (1975), 125-128; on the faint possibility that Plotina was the female student of Nicomachus, see W. C. McDermott, “Plotina Augusta and Nicomachus of Gerasa,” Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte, 26:2 (1977), 192-203. 576 On women in various types of study circles, see Chapter Three, 157-167. 577 This has also been noted by G. W. Bowerstock, Greek Sophists in the Roman Empire (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1969), 109. 578 Dio, 77.10.4, 77.18.2-3, 78.4.2-3. It should be remembered here, however, that Julia Domna was by all accounts quite ill before her death.

204 and returning to normal life.579 While Caracalla was alive she was also granted the title

Mater Augusti/imperatoris et castrum et senatus et patriae, “Mother of the emperor and camps and senate and fatherland.”580 While on one hand this is clearly an honorific title, on the other it also suggests her involvement in military (castrum), political (senatus), and Imperial (patriae) affairs. As the “mother” of the Roman peoples, she had a responsibility to govern them. A surviving letter of Julia Domna is also indicative of her political presence. This letter, addressed to the city of Ephesus, was later inscribed in the gymnasium. Evidently the city had written to ask for a third warden to assist in managing the Imperial cult. Julia Domna wrote back, giving her support for their request, stating she would bring the matter to her son, and praising the city for being such an important centre of study and learning.581 With the assassination of Caracalla, political stability became even more precipitous as Elagabalus and then Alexander

Severus were put on the throne. The selection of Caracalla’s successor from his mother’s family is yet another indication of her political impact. The succession was also a significant testament to the political presence of Julia Maesa, the sister of Julia Domna.

According to Turton, Julia Maesa undertook an aggressive campaign to gather support for her grandson, Elagabalus.582 Drawing upon both the political and military connections she had made through her sister, and, according to , her own personal wealth and rumors that her grandson was actually the illegitimate son of

579 Ibid., 78.24.2. 580 Barbara Levick, Julia Domna: Syrian Empress, 93. 581 Ibid., 96; See also C. Gorrie, “Julia Domna’s Building Patronage, Imperial Family Roles and the Several Revival of Moral Legislation,” Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte 53:1 (2004), 61-72. 582 G. E. Turton, The Syrian Princesses: The Women Who Ruled Rome, A.D. 193-235 (London, Cassell, 1974), 133-134.

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Caracalla, she raised a large force of soldiers to declare Elagabalus emperor.583 Maesa was equally involved in the removal of Elagabalus from the position, when it became apparent that he was unsuitable. Herodian suggests that Maesa was concerned about the loss of her personal power, if Elagabalus were removed by anyone outside of the family:

As she viewed these developments, Maesa suspected that the soldiers were revolted by this kind of behaviour by the emperor. Her fears were that, if anything happened to him, she would again be reduced to the status of an ordinary person. So, since he was in most matters a thoughtless, silly young man, she persuaded him by flattery to adopt and appoint as Caesar his cousin, her own grandchild by her daughter Mamaea.584

It is at this point that Julia Mamaea also appears in a political capacity. Having established her son as the successor to Elagabalus, she then proceeds to seek out the support of the Praetorians to back his claim.585 According to Herodian, while Elagabalus was aware that his grandmother and aunt were planning to overthrow him, he was unable to prevent them.586 In other words, Roman politics were in such a state of crisis that the emperor was unable to defend himself from the political influence of two women.

With the rise of Severus Alexander, Julia Mamaea continued to be a dominant political force. Dio notes that Alexander immediately placed his mother in a position of power, and that she “took direction of affairs and gathered wise men about her son, in

583 Herodian, 5.3; R. L. Cleve, “Some Male Relatives of the Severan Women,” Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte 37:2 (1988), 196-206. 584 Herodian, 5.7.1 (trans. Loeb): ὁρῶσα δὲ ταῦτα ἡ Μαῖσα, ὑποπτεύουσά τε τοὺς στρατιώτας ἀπαρέσκεσθαι τῷ τοιούτῳ τοῦ βασιλέως βίῳ, καὶ δεδοικυῖα µή τι ἐκείνου παθόντος πάλιν ἰδιωτεύῃ, πείθει αὐτόν, κοῦφον ἄλλως καὶ ἄφρονα νεανίαν, θέσθαι υἱὸν Καίσαρά τε ἀποδεῖξαι τὸν ἑαυτοῦ µὲν ἀνεψιὸν ἐκείνης δὲ ἔγγονον ἐκ τῆς ἑτέρας θυγατρὸς Μαµαίας. 585 Ibid., 5.8.3. On Julia Mamaea see also J. Burns, Great Women of Imperial Rome, 207-230. 586 Ibid., 5.8. 3-4.

206 order that his habits might be correctly formed by them; she also chose the best men in the senate as advisers, informing them of all that had to be done.”587 Herodian is more blunt about Mamaea and Maesa’s roles in Alexander’s government. “When Alexander received the empire, the appearance and the title of emperor were allowed him, but the management and control of Imperial affairs were in the hands of his women, and they undertook a more moderate and more equitable administration.”588

This acknowledgement of female political power during the Severan period is largely unprecedented. Perhaps Agrippina the Younger comes close when Tacitus records Nero’s panicked fears over her potential reprisal for his attempt to murder her.

Then, paralysed with terror and protesting that she would show herself the next moment eager for vengeance, either arming the slaves or stirring up the soldiery, or hastening to the Senate and the people, to charge him with the wreck, with her wound, and with the destruction of her friends, he asked what resource he had against all this…589

Julia Maesa, Julia Mamaea, and Julia Domna seem to have held public roles very much in their own right. They also, however, appear at a moment of extreme crisis for the empire, when there is a lack of stable and competent emperors. Perhaps most importantly, the lack of viable rulers meant a lack of normalizing propaganda that

587 Dio, 80. Fragment (trans. Loeb): ἥ τὴν τῶν πραγµάτων οἰκονοµίαν µετακεχείριστο, καὶ περὶ τὸν υἱὸν σοφοὺς ἄνδρας συνήγαγεν, ἵνα δι᾿ ἐκείνων αὐτῷ τά ἤθη ῥυθµιζοιτα, κἀκ τῆς γερουσίας τοὺς ἀµείνονας συµβούλους προσείλετο, ἅπαν πρακτέον κοινουµένη αὐτοῖς. 588 Herodian, 6.1.1 (trans. Loeb): παραλαβόντος δὲ τὴν ἀρχὴν ᾿Αλεξάνδρου τὸ <µὲν> σχῆµα καὶ τὸ ὄνοµα τῆς βασιλείας ἐκείνῳ περιέκειτο, ἡ µέντοι διοίκησις τῶν πραγµάτων καὶ ἡ τῆς ἀρχῆς οἰκονοµία ὑπὸ ταῖς γυναιξὶ διῳκεῖτο, ἐπί τε τὸ σωφρονέστερον καὶ σεµνότερον πάντα µετάγειν ἐπειρῶντο. 589 Tacitus, Ann. 14.8 (trans. Loeb): Questibus votis clamore diversa rogitantium aut incerta respondentium omnis ora compleri; adfluere ingens multitudo cum luminibus, atque ubi incolumem esse pernotuit, ut ad gratandum sese expedire, donec adspectu armati et minitantis agminis deiecti sunt.

207 masked the power of these women. They were too busy ruling to be pretending not to rule.

The visibility of the Severan women is equally interesting in light of the fact that

Perpetua died during the reign of Julia Domna. Perpetua herself tells us that the games in which they were to be killed were in honor of Geta’s birthday (AD 203).590 Julia Domna died in AD 217, almost fifteen years after Perpetua. While there is nothing to suggest any sort of connection between the two women (besides the fact that Julia Domna’s husband Severus also hailed from North Africa) it is intriguing that the immediate popularity of Perpetua’s work occurred at the same time that there was a highly visible empress known for her literary and philosophical patronage.591

Textual Visibility and Textual Authorship

Imperial Rome, therefore, follows a similar pattern in terms of female political visibility as witnessed in Republican times. Elite women are certainly a visible feature of the political landscape and appear as much more dominant figures in moments of change or political instability. This suggests that women should be highly visible during the mid third-century crisis, a time of complete chaos for Rome. For this period the evidence is difficult. Of the 26 emperors, only a handful of women appear in relation to them. In part, the brevity of the majority of their reigns may have had a limiting effect on female involvement. In part, the intense military focus of many of the emperors may also have

590 Passio S. Perpetuae 7.9: “For then was the birthday of the Caesar Geta” (natale tunc Getae Caesaris). Geta was turning 21. 591 In other words, one must recognize the possibility of a common basis (i.e. instability) for both political and textual visibility of women at this moment in time.

208 excluded women. In part, the lack of any substantial source material may be impeding our access to this time. However, the handful of women that do appear in the political realms of the period feature prominently. Marcia Otacilia Severa, the wife of Philip I, was implicated in the death of Gordian III and in the temporary salvation of Bishop

Babylus of Antioch.592 Annia Cupressenia Herinnia Etruscilla, the wife of Decius, may have acted as regent for her son Hostilian, following Decius’ death.593 Most significant of the Imperial women, however, is Ulpia Severina, the wife of Aurelian. Substantial evidence points to the possibility that Ulpia Severina ruled the empire for seven months after the death of Aurelian, as an autonomous ruler. The interregnum period between

Aurelian and Tacitus is mentioned in ’s epitome.594 During these seven months, coins were issued which displayed Ulpia as the sole ruler. If this is true, the mid third-century crisis contains the only instance of independent rule of the Roman empire by a woman. This period also contains the temporary loss of a large portion of the eastern empire to Zenobia of Palmyra and her son Vabalathus.595 Therefore, the mid- third century, sparse though the sources are, offers women involved in plots over succession and in religious debates, acting as regents, and possibly ruling outright.

592 On Otacilia Severa, see E. R. Varner, “Portraits, Plots, and Politics: “Damnatio Memoriae” and the Images of Imperial Women,” Memoirs of the American Academy in Rome 46 (2001), 52- 53; J. P. C. Kent, Roman Coins (London, 1978), 311. 593 F. S. Salisbury and H. Mattingly, “The Reign of Trajan Decius,” The Journal of Roman Studies 14 (1924), 15. 594 Aurelius Victor, Aurelian, 10 (trans.T. M. Banchich, Epitome De Caesaribus, Canisius College Translated Texts, 1 (New York, 2009), 35): “At the time, for seven months, there proceeded a kind of interregnum”. On the interregnum see also A. Watson, Aurelian and the Third Century (London: Routledge, 1999), 109-111, who is skeptical of this. 595 For a current treatment of Zenobia, albeit one that focuses on her mythology, see R. Winsbury, Zenobia of Palmyra: History, Myth and the Neo-Classical Imagination (London: Duckworth, 2010). Although not a Roman woman, it should here be noted that Zenobia is also credited with writing a history of the east. See Chapter One, 46.

209

With the establishment of the and a return to a more stable period,

women appear predominantly in dynastic marriages and are less visible in the politics.

Indeed, it would not be until the Theodosian period that women appear once again in the

capacity as rulers and politicians. Diocletian’s wife Prisca and her daughter Valeria are

notable for being killed by Licinius after the women rejected his Imperial claims. His

actions suggest that the women had considerable influence but there is little in the way of

actual evidence to substantiate this. Flavia Julia Constantia, the wife of Licinius and

sister of Constantine, is described as pleading for Licinius’ life and convincing

Constantine to spare him (which he did temporarily). Helena, the mother of Constantine,

of course, had considerable influence in matters of religion and possibly also a role in the

death of Fausta.596 Fausta’s death was perhaps also indicative of her political

manipulations of Constantine.597

Considering the pattern outlined thus far, it should come as little surprise that

Proba’s text is roughly contemporaneous to the era of Helena. Likewise, Egeria’s work

596 On Helena see B. Bleckmann, “Helena [2],” Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2011). On Fausta see B. Bleckmann, “Fausta,” Brill's New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill, 2011). On the series of events surrounding the deaths of Crispus and Fausta see H. A. Pohlsander, “Crispus: Brilliant Career and Tragic End,” Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte 33:1 (1984), esp. 99-106. Pohlsander doubts that Helena was involved in either death, see Helena: Empress and Saint (Chicago, Ares: 1995), 23; “Crispus: Brilliant Career and Tragic End,” 106. However, other scholars suggest that Helena’s pilgrimage shortly after the deaths of Crispus and Fausta was one of atonement. See D. Bowder, The Age of Constantine and Julian (London, Rowman & Littlefield: 1978), 33, 62; R. MacMullen, Constantine (New York, 1969), 187. For an overview of the events surrounding Helena and Constantine, see A. Freisenbruch, Caesar’s Wives: Sex, Power, and Politics in the Roman Empire (Toronto: Free Press, 2010), 205-229. 597 On Fausta’s relationship with Constantine and the likelihood of her death being politically motivated, see J. W. Drijvers, “Flavia Maxima Fausta: Some Remarks,” Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte 41:4 (1992), 506. For additional sources on Flavia, see Prospography of the Later Roman Empire I, 325-326.

210 dates to the Theodosian period. These interconnections will be explored at length in

Chapter Five of this thesis.

The pattern of female political visibility can also be traced through the records of women who were condemned to damnatio memoriae. As pointed out by Varner, the practice of damnatio memoriae was almost always in response to political manoeuvering or insurrection, and was applied to men and women both.598 In other words, the practice did not differentiate between men and women. Twenty-four Imperial women (from the time of Augustus to that of Constantine) have been identified as suffering some type of condemnation. Of these, half of the women belong to the Julio-Claudian era: Julia

Maior, Julia Minor, Agrippina Maior, Claudia Livilla, Milonia Caesonia, Valeria

Mesalina, Julia Livilla, Domitia Lepida, Agrippina Minor, Claudia Octavia, Poppaea, and Antonia Claudia; the women around : , Crispina and Annia

Fundania Faustina; women in the Severan dynasty: Plautilla, Julia Soemias, Otacilia

Severa and Cornelia Supera; and a number of women from the Tetrarchy and early

Constantinian period: Magnica Urbica, Galeria Valeria Maximilla, Prisca, Galeria

Valeria and Fausta.599 Hence, what might be termed the positive and negative patterns of female participation in politics support the same set of conclusions. During periods of transition or instability women seem to have an increased presence in the political sphere. Official condemnation, whether in conjunction with a male family member or independently, indicates the existence of a public persona to be eradicated.

598 Eric R. Varner, “Portraits, Plots, and Politics: ‘Damnatio Memoriae’ and the Images of Imperial Women,” 86. 599 Ibid., 43.

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From this survey a number of points may be drawn. Firstly, elite Roman women consistently appear as “politicians” in almost every period of Roman history. Secondly, elite Roman women are recognized by contemporaries as active participants in the so- called “public” sphere. Thirdly, female participation tends to increase at moments of instability or tension for Rome. This pattern has interesting reflections in the preservation patterns of female-authored texts. If we consider the Latin corpus, the known texts cluster in the same moments that there is significant female visibility in the political sphere. Sulpicia was writing in the first century BC at the same time that other women were heavily involved in political events. Agrippina the Younger published her work during the Julio-Claudian period. Perpetua was writing under the reign of Julia

Domna. Proba was most likely writing in the early fourth century under the shadow of

Helena. Egeria functioned around the Theodosian empresses. In the Greek corpus

Eudocia was writing when Pulcheria and Galla Placidia were influential. While this could reflect simple random chance, the correlation between the presence of women in political activity and known female writers is intriguing. Sulpicia and Perpetua are of particular interest because they were not, as far as it is known, politically active. The publication of their works, therefore, suggests that there was the potential for multiple channels of female voice within a time of heightened political visibility for their gender.

This pattern is therefore suggestive of yet another factor in the reception of female- authored text. It also provides a new approach to dealing with some of the more challenging aspects of the extant texts.

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Egeria and Public Visibility

From this more general survey, it is possible to further explore the reality of female voice in a specific case-study of Egeria. The recognition that female-authored texts might function on a political level provides a unique entry point for study and draws attention as well to aspects of the texts that are often overlooked in strictly literary studies. In the case of Egeria, examining her text as a political document offers helpful information as to her identity and expands the purpose of her text beyond exclusively personal goals.

Egeria’s choice of genre, while a highly suitable one for her purposes, is even more powerful if we return to the question of her identity. If, as an individual, Egeria remains a mystery, her text provides at least some inference as to her status. Three instances in particular suggest that Egeria was a member of the elite classes. First, Egeria notes that she traveled between the cities of Clysma and Arabia with a full military escort. The territory that she is traveling through was apparently dangerous, and she required protection. She writes that her party traveled between military outposts and were guarded by Roman soldiers:

It is a four-day journey across the desert from Clysma, that is, from the Red Sea, to the city of Arabia. Though the journey is across the desert, each resting station has a military outpost with soldiers and officers who always guided us from fortress to fortress.600

600 Egeria, It. 7.1 (trans. G. E. Gringas, 60): Sunt ergo a Clesma, id est a mare rubro, usque ad Arabiam civitatem mansiones quattuor per eremo, sic tamen per eremum, ut cata mansiones monasteria sint cum militibus et praepositis, qui nos deducebant semper de castro ad castrum. On Clysma see Mortiz, “Klysma,” Realencyclopädie der Classischen Altertumswissenschaft 11.881. On Egeria’s crossing of the Red Sea at Clysma see also W. F. Albright, From the Stone Age to Christianity – Monotheism and the Historical Process (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins Press, 1940), 15.

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She also mentions that this type of escorted travel is standard practice for her party,

(iuxta consuetudinem):

Epauleum was pointed out to us in the distance, and we went to Magdalum. There is a fort there now which has an officer and a garrison which exercises the authority of Rome in these parts. As is customary, they escorted us from there to another fortress, and there we were shown Beelsephon; indeed we were at the very spot.601

Equally important, she also describes dismissing the soldiers, when she had reached the

safety of Egypt, which had a public highway that she could travel on.

At this point we sent back the soldiers who, through the authority of Rome, had escorted us as long as we were traveling through unsafe places; now, however, it was no longer necessary for us to trouble the soldiers, since there was a public highway through Egypt, passing by the city of Arabia and running from the Thebaid to Pelusium.602

601 Egeria, It. 7.2. (trans. G. E. Gringas, 61): Nam et Epauleum ostensum est nobis, de contra tamen, et Magdalum fuimus. Nam castrum est ibi nunc habens praepositum cum milite, qui ibi nunc praesidet pro disciplina Romana. Nam et nos iuxta consuetudinem deduxerunt inde usque ad aliud castrum, et loco Belsephon ostensum est nobis, immo in eo loco fuimus. There are several suggested locations for Epauleum. W. F. Albright, “Exploring in Sinai with the University of California African Expedition,” Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 109 (1948), 15, suggests Pi-hahiroth, near modern Qantara. A. Bludau, Die Pilgerreise der Aetheria, 18, suggests Pikeheret, near Ismailia in Egypt. For additional bibliography on Epauleum see G. E. Gringas, Egeria: Diary of a Pilgrimage, 181, n. 95. On the Roman fort of Magdalum, see C. Bourdon, “La Route de l’Exode, de la Terre de Gesse à Mara,” Revue Biblique 41 (1932), 543, who identifies it as the Roman fort at Tell Abou Hassan. On Beelsephon see C. Bourdon, “La Route de l’Exode, de la Terre de Gesse à Mara,” 545; W. F. Albright, “Exploring in Sinai with the University of California African Expedition,” 15. 602 Egeria, It. 9.1 (trans. G. E. Gringas, 63-64): Nos autem inde iam remisimus milites, qui nobis pro disciplina Romana praebuerant, quandiu per loca suspecta ambulaveramus; iam autem, quoniam ager publicum erat per Aegyptum, quod transiebat per Arabiam civitatem, id est quod mittit de Thebaida in Pelusio: et ideo iam non fuit necesse vexare milites. On this highway see G. E. Gringas, Egeria: Diary of a Pilgrimage, 186, n. 121.

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Egeria, then, appears to have been traveling with an official military escort.

While the Roman government made significant efforts to secure the eastern border regions with a series of defensive forts and military outposts, actual military escorts do not seem to have available to every pilgrim that took this route.603 Other pilgrimage accounts make no mention of this protective service. A later (570s) pilgrim, Ps.

Antonius, traveled through Sinai to the Monastery of St. Catherine. He notes that on his way there the Saracens were celebrating a festival and so his group could take a direct route, but on his return the festival was over, and he was obliged to take a different route to avoid them.604 Another group was less fortunate, and, even with the procurement of an

Arab guide for 3 solidi to escort them up the Holy Mountain, they lost a camel to bandits.605 Therefore, Egeria’s use of Roman soldiers appears unusual.

Alongside the possession of a military escort, Egeria also meets with a number of high-ranking Christian officials. Egeria meets with no less than six bishops during her pilgrimage.606 Moreover, these bishops take the time, sometimes several days, to act as tour guides for Egeria. The bishop of Arabia travels to meet her in Ramesses, to show her the holy places there, and then celebrates Epiphany with her in Arabia.607 The bishop of Carneas comes out of his church to greet her and, after praying together, she asks him

603 B. Isaac, “Bandits in Judaea and Arabia,” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 88 (1984), 171-203. 604 Antoninus Placentinus 39 (CCSL 175.149); B. Isaac, “Bandits in Judaea and Arabia,” 201. 605 C. J. Kraemer, Excavations at Nessana, 3: The Non-Literary Papyri (1958), 11.22-23. 606 Bishops of Arabia (8.2, 9.1), Segor (12.3), Carneas (14.1), Edessa (19.2), Carrhae (20.1), and Seleucia (23.1). 607 Egeria, It. 8.2: Ipse ergo cum se dignatus fuisset vexare et ibi nobis occurrere, singula ibi ostendit seu retulit de illas statuas, quas dixi, ut etiam et de illa arbore sicomori. Nam et hoc nobis ipse sanctus episcopus retulit, eo quod Pharao, quando vidit, quod filii Israhel dimiserant eum, tunc ille, priusquam post illos occuparet, isset cum omni exercitu suo intra Ramesse et incendisset eam omnem, quia infinita erat valde, et inde post filios Israhel fuisset profectus.

215 to show her several sites, including the site of St. John’s baptism, which he does.608 The bishop of Edessa gave a tour of his city and gifted her with copies of Abgar’s letter to the

Lord and the Lord’s letter to Abgar.609 Likewise the bishop of Carrhae provides a similar tour and tells Egeria, in response to an inquiry about another site: “Whenever you wish to go there, we will go with you and show it to you…”610

Egeria’s direct involvement with these various bishops is highly suggestive of the status she possessed. These bishops appear to be going out of their way to facilitate her pilgrimage, far beyond their involvement with the majority of pilgrims. The Bordeaux pilgrim, for example, despite having an elite status, makes no reference to any interactions with bishops. Egeria’s preferential treatment, then, is certainly indicative of an unusually high degree of authority or recognition.

Here it is possible only to speculate from where Egeria was drawing this authority. The most intriguing possibility places her in some connection to Theodosius.

Theodosius and Egeria ostensibly hail from the same region in Spain, Galicia, and it is certainly possible that there was some type of intersection between the two. Indeed, as seen above, efforts to identify Egeria repeatedly have gravitated towards a Theodosian

608 Egeria, It. 14.1, 15.1: Statim ergo ut haec audivi, descendimus de animalibus, et ecce occurrere dignatus est sanctus presbyter ipsius loci et clerici; qui nos statim suscipientes duxerunt suso ad ecclesiam… Tunc ergo quia retinebam scriptum esse baptizasse sanctum Iohannem in Enon iuxta Salim, requisivi de eo, quam longe esset ipse locus. Tunc ait ille sanctus presbyter: «ecce hic est in ducentis passibus. Nam si vis, ecce modo pedibus duco vos ibi. Nam haec aqua tam grandis et tam pura, quam videtis in isto vico, de ipso fonte venit». Tunc ergo gratias ei agere coepi et rogare, ut duceret nos ad locum, sicut et factum est. Statim ergo coepimus ire cum eo pedibus totum per vallem amoenissimam, donec perveniremus usque ad hortum pomarium valde amoenum, ubi ostendit nobis in medio fontem aquae optimae satis et purae, qui a semel integrum fluvium dimittebat. 609 Ibid., 19.1-8. 610 Ibid., 20.5: cum volueris ire, imus tecum et ostendimus tibi.

216 connection, although no definitive candidate has ever emerged.611 Her possession of a

Roman military escort seems to imply some degree of Imperial protection, even though her text is silent on this account. Likewise, the enthusiastic hospitality of the bishops could stem from the encouragement of Imperial sanction. Egeria’s relationship with the bishops could also, of course, be reflective of her own religious status. The manuscript tradition identifies Egeria as an abbess, and the possibility that she held authority within her own right cannot be discounted. However, an Imperial connection could help to explain a puzzling section of Egeria’s text. Upon reaching Carrhae, Egeria expresses an interest in continuing east to Ur, the city of the Chaldees. She is informed by the bishop of Carrhae, however, that this is not accessible to her, as it lies well within Persian territory.

The place which you seek, my daughter, is a ten-day journey from here, deep into Persia. From here to Nisibis it is a five-day journey, and from there as far as Ur, which was the city of the Chaldees, it is another five days. But now there is no admittance there for Romans, since the Persians hold it all.612

611 On the potential connection between Egeria and Theodosius, see Chapter One, 73-78. 612Egeria, It. 20.6 (trans. G. E. Gringas, 84): Locus ille, filia, quem requiris, decima mansione est hinc intus in Persida. Nam hinc usque ad Nisibin mansiones sunt quinque, et inde usque ad Hur, quae fuit civitas Chaldaeorum, aliae mansiones sunt quinque; sed modo ibi accessus Romanorum non est, totum enim illud Persae tenent. Haec autem pars specialiter orientalis appellatur, quae est in confinium Romanorum et Persarum vel Chaldaeorum.

217

As noted previously, for the majority of Christian pilgrims, the border between

Rome and Persia was highly permeable. Christian officials, in fact, often traveled between empires with such ease that they were convenient envoys for both the Romans and the Persians.613 The fact that Egeria is seemingly blocked from crossing the border makes sense only if she had a higher degree of association with Roman officialdom than the average pilgrim. In other words, if Egeria was traveling with an official escort and

Imperial sanction, then she may have found the Persian border to be more problematic than if she had been traveling under some type of purely religious authority. Therefore,

Egeria seem to be a prominent woman. Her pilgrimage appears to be under Imperial protection. She travels with Roman soldiers, is guided by Roman bishops, and is restricted, somewhat, to Roman territory.

The later fourth century witnessed a surge of interest in pilgrimage to the East.

Sources describe an era of vitality in terms of pilgrimage, with both monks and laypeople traveling to the eastern empire in search of holy sites. Jerome complained that he was overwhelmed with housing the number of monks who were staying in his monastery during their travels around the East (Ep. 66.14). The presence of crowds of pilgrims at various sites is attested by observers like Gregory of Nyssa, who describes the masses that gathered at the martyrium of Theodore at Euchaita 614 or at Sabastia

613 A. D. Lee, Information and Frontiers, 60. 614 Gregory of Nyssa, In Theod. 1 (PG 46.736-737) (trans. C. McCambly): “You, the people who belong to Christ, a holy flock, a royal priesthood which had come from every place, city and the countryside, what is the source of that sign which brought you to this sacred place? Who are you who hasten here and planned this [journey] beforehand? Is it not the season of winter which is untroubled by war, when armed soldiers are not present, sailors set sail over the foamy [waves] and the farmer puts to rest the ox used for plowing in the stall? It is not clear that the holy martyr sounded the trumpet from among the roster of warriors, rouses people from diverse regions to a place of rest, proclaims a home, not in preparation for war but to a sweet and attractive peace for

218

during the festival of the Forty Martyrs, 615 and Basil of Caesarea, who notes that the

martyrium of Gordius was so crowded that many could not get near the site and so

watched from afar.616 The crowds are also evident in the vitae of holy men and women

composed in Late Antiquity, such as the Life of Antony or the Life of Daniel, in which

the beleaguered ascetics are constantly attempting to escape their visitors.617 Likewise,

hagiographical material from this period more generally introduces a strong element of

pilgrimage, as in ’s Historia religiosa.618

Many of the major and minor figures of the Church in this period also went on

pilgrimage. Gregory of Nyssa, Basil of Caesarea, Paulinus of Nola, Cyril of Jerusalem,

Christians?” (Υµεῖς ὁ τοῦ Χριστοῦ λαὀς, ἡ άγία ποίµνη, τὸ βασίλειον ἰεράτευµα, οί πανταχόθεν ἀστικοί τε καὶ χωριτικοὶ συῤῤεύασντες δῆµοι, πὀθεν λαβόντες τὸ σύνθηµα τῆς όδοῦ, πρὸς τὸν ἰερὸν τοῦτον ἑδηµαγωγήθητε τόπον; Τίς ὑµἵν τῆς ὲνθάδε σπουδαίαν σὕτω καὶ ἐµπρόθεσµον ἀνάγκην ἐπέθηκεν; καὶ ταῦτα ὥρᾳ χειµῶνος, ἠνίκα καὶ πόλεµος ἡρεµεἴ, καὶ στρατιώτης τήν πανοπλίαν ἀποσκευάζεται, καὶ πλωτὴρ ὕπὲρ καπνοῦ τίθησι τὸ πηδάλιον, καὶ γεωγρὸς ἡσυχάζει τοὺς ἀροτῆρας βοῦς θεραπεύων ἕπί τῆς φάτνης; ῎Π πρόδηλον, ώς ἐσάλπισε µὲν ἐκ τῶν στρατιωτικῶν καταλόγων ὁ ἅγιος µάρτυς· κινήσας δὲ πολλοὺς ἐκ διαφόρων πατρίδων πρός τὴν οὶκείαν ἀνάπαυσιν καὶ ἐστίαν ἐκάλεσεν, οὐκ είς πολεµιχὴν εὐτρεπὶζων παρασκευὴν, ἀλλά πρὸς τῆν γλυκεῖαν καὶ µάλιστα δὴ Χριστιανοῖς πρέπουσαν συνάγων εὶρήνην). 615Gregory of Nyssa, In XL Mart. 2.1 (PG 46.757) (trans. C. McCambly): ”Yesterday the martyrs who summoned the people are now presented as guests to the Church. This is a joyous occasion whose yearly observance benefits those assembled for the festival, and we must reciprocate in similar fashion. Although yesterday’s commemoration was insufficient when we received [the martyrs] as our guests, we should make them feel welcome today. In other words, even a small portion left over from such an abundant banquet is adequate. What is the meaning of this small portion? You certainly recall our remarks about that sweet multitude which earnestly prayed for those assembled together to beseech their intercession” (Χθὲς οὶ µάρτυρες πρὸς ἑαυτοὺς τὸν λαόν ἐκάλουν· νῦν τῷ καταγωγίῳ τῇς ᾿Εκκλησίας ἐπιξενοῦνται αὐτόκλητοι. Νόµος δέ τίς ἐστι συµποτικὸς, τὰς ἐγκυκλλους ταύτας ἑστιάσεις παρὰ τῶν δαιτυµόνων ἀλλήλοις ἐκ περιτροπῆς ἐπιδιδοσθαι. Οὐκοῦν ἀνάγκν καὶ ἡµᾶς τὸν αὐτὸν ἀντιπληρῶσαι τοῦ δεὶπνου τοῖς µάρτυσιν ἔρανον. ᾿Αλλ᾿ ἐπειδὴ πένεται ἡµῖν ἡ χορηγἱα τοῦ λόγου, καλῶς ἕχει τοῖς παρ᾿ αὐτῶν ἐκεὶνων λειψάνοις ἡµᾶς δεξιοῦσθαι, τοὺς χθὲς µὲν ἑστιάτορας, σήµερον δέ δαιτυµόνας). 616 Basil of Caesarea, Hom. 27. (PG 31: 501b). 617 On the Life of Antony and the saint’s attempts to withdraw from the world, see J. Sutera, “Place and Stability in the Life of Antony,” The Classical Studies Quarterly 28 (1993), 101-114; on the Life of Daniel, see R. J. Lane Fox, “The Life of Daniel,” in Portraits: Biographical Representation in the Greek and Latin Literature of the Early Empire, ed. M.J. Edwards and S. Swain (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997), 175-225. 618 B. Bitton-Ashkelony, Encountering the Sacred: The Debate on Christian Pilgrimage in Late Antiquity (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005), 174

219 and Jerome were all pilgrims themselves and describe their experiences to varying degrees.619 Accounts mention the pilgrimages of the Spanish priest Vigilantius, the

Italian Christian Melania the younger, and the Persian bishop Miles.620 By the late fourth century, a Christian topography of sacred spaces had evolved for the eastern empire and pilgrims from far and wide traveled to the numerous holy places.621 Indeed, it is at the end of the fourth century that we find the first attempts by theologians to address the question of pilgrimage, and how and if pilgrimage was appropriate for Christians. The diversity of pilgrimage at this point is perhaps best evidenced by the lack of any sort of consensus or even continuity amongst those writing. As Bitton-Ashkelony points out, attitudes range from support (Jerome), to apathy (Augustine), to rejection (Gregory of

Nyssa), but rarely do any of these writers remain constant on their stand. Jerome, while generally a proponent of pilgrimage, nevertheless on occasion appears to oppose it, while Gregory of Nyssa, who denies much of the worth of pilgrimage to Jerusalem, is supportive of visiting local sites.622

Much of the surviving work is more concerned with pilgrimage by those in the monastic communities than by the average Christian. Monks and nuns were enthusiastic pilgrims, a fact that some theologians found troubling. Jerome comments on the number of monks from the East who were on pilgrimage to Jerusalem, “From India, from Persia,

619 For Gregory of Nyssa, Ep. 2, 17; for Paulinus of Nola, Ep. 49.14; for Cyril of Jersualem Cat. 10.19, 13.9, 14.22-3; for Jerome Ep. 46, 58, 108. 620 A. D. Lee, Information and Frontiers, 56; Brouria Bitton-Ashkelony, Encountering the Sacred: The Debate on Christian Pilgrimage in Late Antiquity, 99, 162. 621 On the topography of sacred space in the Holy Land, see R. L. Wilken, The Land Called Holy: Palestine in Christian History and Thought (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1992), esp. 11- 125. 622 B. Bitton-Ashkelony, Encountering the Sacred: The Debate on Christian Pilgrimage in Late Antiquity. For Jerome see pages 65-105, for Augustine 106-139, and for Gregory of Nyssa 30-64.

220 from we daily welcome monks in crowds” (107.2.3). Paulinus of Nola describes nuns from the West traveling to the Mount of Olives to dwell with Melania the Elder.623

More localized pilgrimages appear in the anonymous Historia monachorum, in which a groups of monks traveled from the Mount of Olives to Egypt (19-23), or in a letter by

Athanasius to a group of dedicated virgins who made a pilgrimage from Alexandria to

Palestine and were sad at returning to Alexandria.624 For monastics to leave their isolation and travel broadly, often alongside members of the opposite sex, was sometimes regarded as a dubious undertaking, and, as pilgrimage increased, so too did the writings urging monks and nuns to opt for a spiritual pilgrimage rather than a physical trip.625

The largely reactionary nature of work dealing with pilgrimage, is, for purposes here, most interesting as an illustration of the extent and variety of pilgrimages being undertaken in the fourth century and the lack of cohesion or formality with which the

Church was responding.

Therefore, in the sense of activity, Egeria’s pilgrimage is, in many ways, entirely unexceptional. Her pilgrimage takes place during a time when such journeys were both popular and permissible. Nor does her gender make her pilgrimage anomalous. As seen above, the tradition of female pilgrimage is well documented. In addition to groups of nuns and dedicated virgins, and the travels of women such as Melania the Elder and

Melania the Younger, Jerome’s letters reveal the pilgrimages of Paula and Eustochium,

623 Ibid., 107. 624 D. Brakke, Athanasius and the Politics of Asceticism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995), 292-294. 625 For some examples of this, see G. Constable, “Opposition to Pilgrimage in the Middle Ages,” Studia Gratiania 19 (1976), 123-146.

221 women who also, it may be noted, traveled from the Western empire (ep. 108). Jerome also writes to Theodora, a Spanish widow on pilgrimage in the east (ep. 75, 76).

Theodoret of Cyrrhus tells of the pilgrimages of the nuns Marana and Cyra to Jerusalem and the shrine of Thecla.626 Helena, earlier in the century, is another obvious example.627

Egeria’s participation in pilgrimage stands as a highly typical activity of her time.

Egeria and Political Espionage?

That pilgrimage was such a common feature in the period surrounding Egeria has additional political implications for her journey. Because pilgrimage and pilgrims were to some extent unremarkable, this allowed Egeria access into regions that might have been of interest to the Roman government. The mass of pilgrims wandering the eastern provinces in Late Antiquity was certainly viewed by the government as an information resource. Fourth-century intelligence gathering was quite successful, largely because by this point there was a diversity in strategies of espionage.628 Increased pressure at the borders of the empire had the result of forcing the development of a network of information gathering on the frontier that functioned by two different methods. In the first, what might be termed active espionage, there was a collection of people actively working as the eyes and ears of the emperor. Classified usually as notarii or agentes in rebus, they carried important messages, reported on the state of their various posts and were often sent to accompany government officials. As the fourth century progressed,

626 Theodoret of Cyrrhus, HR, 7.2, 238. 627 For an introduction to Helena see H. A. Pohlsander, Helena: Empress and Saint. 628 N. J. E. Austin and N. B. Rankov, Exploratio: Military and Political Intelligence in the Roman World from the Second Punic War to the (New York: Routledge, 1995), 241.

222 agentes, in particular, were increasingly known as informers and assassins for the emperor.629 In a military context, there are also examples of spies who were active in reconnaissance, scouting or sneaking into the enemy camp.630 The obvious example is, of course, Ammianus, who describes several instances where he crosses the frontier and spies on enemy troops (Amm. Marc. xviii.2.2; xviii.6.20-2).

In conjunction with this active espionage is a larger but much more passive network of information gatherers comprised of officials, soldiers and other people, whose geographic proximity to areas of interest provided them with valuable intelligence. These individuals rarely were charged specifically with the task of espionage; rather, their purpose as they went about their activities was to serve as a giant net sweeping through an area and to bring to light and pass on things of interest.631

Pilgrims fall quite naturally into this second aspect of information gathering.

Many of the areas that were of interest to Roman officials were also of interest to

Christian pilgrims. In addition, religious travelers seem to have traveled between Roman and Persian territory with relative ease. Persian Christians were common visitors to the

Holy Land and to Egypt.632 Likewise, there was a steady stream of Christians traveling into Persia. The desire to visit holy sites, to meet with Christian communities, or to teach, were all common motivations for these travelers.633 Because Christian officials often traveled between empires, they were convenient envoys for both the Romans and

629 Ibid, 214-221; R. M. Sheldon, Intelligence Activities in Ancient Rome: Trust in the Gods, But Verify (New York: Frank Cass, 2005), 68-85. 630 N. J. E. Austin and N. B. Rankov, Exploratio, 229-232; A. D. Lee, Information and Frontiers, 170-182. 631 A. D. Lee, Information and Frontiers, 147-165. 632 Ibid., 56-60. 633 Ibid.

223 the Persians.634 Pilgrims also had a fair amount of interaction with each other. Edessa, in particular, drew Christians from the East and the West as a focus of pilgrimage and as a place of study.635 In fact, Edessa was so popular with Persian Christians that at the end of the fourth century, a rival school was set up at Anbar, across the border, in an effort to keep Persian Christian theologians in Persia.636 So for Christian pilgrims, the eastern border was highly permeable, and their presence there was easily accepted.

While all this is highly conducive to passive espionage, it has proven challenging to actually trace out this process, and it is here that Egeria’s itinerarium can offer something new and concrete. Turning to Egeria’s text, it is possible to see this concept of informal information gathering put into practice. Egeria’s text is unique, in the sense that, unlike the bulk of fourth century evidence that shows movement of pilgrims, her text provides the actual kind of observations that a pilgrim was making about these border regions. What kind of information could these pilgrims actually provide? Was it significant?

There are several striking moments in her text where the intersection between pilgrimage and espionage seems to be particularly likely. The first occurs early in the text when Egeria climbs Mt. Sinai. Upon reaching the summit she proceeds to describe what she could see from such a high point. “And from there we saw beneath us Egypt and Palestine, the Red Sea, and the Parthenian Sea which leads to Alexandria, and finally

634 Ibid., 60. 635 Ibid., 58. 636 Ibid.

224 the endless lands of the Saracens.”637 One is immediately reminded of another instance of visual survey, when Ammianus climbed up a high hill to survey Persian territory. In that case he was sent to “some lofty cliffs… from which, unless one's eyesight was impaired, even the smallest object was visible at a distance of fifty miles.”638 This sort of visual reconnaissance, while casual, was not without practical benefits. The Saracen territory Egeria is looking at was the site of a number of recent attacks and forays across the border by the nomadic tribes that inhabited it, and in the previous century Sinai itself had been attacked and the monks killed.639 So while Egeria’s motivations for climbing

Mt. Sinai almost certainly came out of self-interest or religious motivation, the result is that she finds herself in a position to observe happenings on the frontier. Indeed, Egeria takes this one step further when she crosses this frontier and travels through Saracen territory on her way to Egypt. The danger of her journey is emphasized by her military escort. Egeria travels from military outpost to military outpost with a contingent of soldiers and only sends them back once she reaches the city of Arabia in Egypt. “At this point we sent back the soldiers who, through the authority of Rome, had escorted us as long as we were traveling through unsafe places; now, however, it was no longer necessary for us to trouble the soldiers, since there was a public highway through Egypt,

637 Egeria, It. 3.8 (trans. G. E. Gringas, 53): Aegyptum autem et Palaestinam et mare rubrum et mare illud Parthenicum, quod mittit Alexandriam, nec non et fines Saracenorum infinitos ita subter nos inde videbamus 638 , 18.6.20 (trans. Loeb): mittor ad praecelsas rupes exinde longe distantes, unde nisi oculorum deficeret acies, ad quinquagesimum usque lapidem quodvis etiam minutissimum apparebat. 639The ‘Saracens’ are actually nomadic Arabs from Syro-Arabian desert. On the history of Arab attacks on Sinai see I. Shahîd, Byzantium and the Arabs in the Fourth Century (Washington: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, 1984), 294-315.

225 passing by the city of Arabia and running from the Thebaid to Pelusium.”640 Once again

Egeria has put herself in a position to observe closely activities on the frontier. In both instances Egeria has little to report,641 but this does not diminish her role as an observer; that the frontier was quiet at the moment she was there is not an unimportant piece of information. The general instability of this region generated quite a lot of interest by

Roman officials in people’s experiences there. For example, the hermit Malchus, who is roughly contemporary to Egeria, after escaping from the Arabs, whom Egeria calls

Saracens, was presented to the local tribune and then sent to the Mesopotamiae to be questioned about his experience and what he saw: in effect, he was debriefed.642 This was definitely an area for which the Romans wanted all the information they could get.

In a third instance, when Egeria travels to Carrhae in Mesopotamia, she demonstrates another form of information gathering. Carrhae, on the frontier with Persia, was the site of an annual feast for St. Helpidius, during which monks from all over

Mesopotamia came together to celebrate. And it just so happened that Egeria, by chance, as she puts it, was in Carrhae during this feast. And she notes that she had the opportunity to talk with many of these monks. “It was our good fortune to arrive there

[Carrhae] on the eve of the martyr’s feast day…On this day every monk from all over every section of Mesopotamia had to come to Haran [Carrhae]…We stayed there for two days on account of the martyr’s feast and in order to visit the holy men who consented

640 Egeria, It. 9.3 (trans. G. E. Gringas, 63-64): Nos autem inde iam remisimus milites, qui nobis pro disciplina Romana auxilia praebuerant, quandiu per loca suspecta ambulaveramus; iam autem, quoniam ager publicum erat per Aegyptum, quod transiebat per Arabiam civitatem, id est quod mittit de Thebaida in Pelusio: et ideo iam non fuit necesse vexare milites. 641 One would not imagine that she would have recorded sensitive material in a public document like the itinerarium in any case. 642 Jerome, Life of Malchus, 10.

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very readily to receive me, to exchange greetings and to speak, although I was not

deserving.”643 So, in other words, people living deep within Mesopotamia, within

Persian territory, traveled to an easternmost Roman city, and Egeria conversed with

them. The Persians and the Romans were well aware of the potential of information

exchange in gatherings such as these and indeed presumably made efforts to contain and

limit interactions.644 Laws attempting to control the interactions of Roman and Persian

traders, for example, reflect unease with cross-border activities, as do efforts to make

Edessa less of a gathering point for Persian Christians. 645 Such unease is not without

cause; knowledge and information about political or military affairs occasionally appear

where there is little reason to anticipate it, such as in the writings of the fourth-century

monk Aphrahat, who lived near Nineveh but was apparently privy to Constantine’s plans

of an eastern campaign – Aphrahat’s work is anticipating a Christian ruler in Persia.646

643 Egeria, It. 20.5-6 (trans. G. E. Gringas, 82-83): Hoc autem nobis satis gratum evenit, ut pridie martyrium die ibi veniremus, id est sancti ipsius Helpidii, nono K. Maias, ad quam diem necesse fuit undique et de omnibus Mesopotamiae finibus omnes monachos in Charra descendere, etiam et illos maiores, qui in solitudine sedebant, quos ascites vocant, per diem ipsum, qui ibi satis granditer attenditur, et propter memoriam sancti Abrahae, quia domus ipsius fuit, ubi nunc ecclesia est, in qua positum est corpus ipsius sancti martyris. Itaque ergo hoc nobis ultra spem grate satis evenit, ut sanctos et vere homines Dei monachos Mesopotamenos ibi videremus, etiam et eos, quorum fama vel vita longe audiebatur, quos tamen non aestimabam me penitus posse videre, non quia inpossibile esset Deo etiam et hoc praestare mihi, qui omnia praestare dignabatur, sed quia audieram eos, eo quod extra diem paschae et extra diem hanc non eos descendere de locis suis, quoniam tales sunt, ut et virtutes faciant multas, et quoniam nesciebam, quo mense esset dies hic martyrii, quem dixi. Itaque Deo iubente sic evenit, ut ad diem, quem nec sperabam, ibi venirem. 644 The best example of the presence of spies comes from Ammianus Marcellinus 28.3.8. He recounts an instance in which the Areani, a British tribe used by the Romans to scout beyond Hadrian’s Wall, were subverted by other tribes and became double agents, reporting both to and on the Romans. For more on this see R. M. Sheldon, Intelligence Activities in Ancient Rome: Trust in the Gods, But Verify, 268-269, 274 n. 56; D. Shotter, The Roman Frontier in Britain (Preston: Carnegie Publishing, 1996), 112, 121-122. 645 A. D. Lee, Information and Frontiers, 62. 646 Ibid., 148; T. D. Barnes, “Constantine and the Christians in Persia,” The Journal of Roman Studies 75 (1985), 126-36.

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Egeria’s presence, then, at this nexus of monks and pilgrims, is exactly the sort of position where this sort of information would be exchanged.

So in each of these instances, be it an aerial survey of the frontier, traveling on and across the frontier, or meeting with people who live on and across the frontier,

Egeria is in a position to collect information about these border regions, albeit in a casual, informal method.

In summary, Egeria’s text documents a woman’s survey of the eastern frontier. In it we have Egeria observing across Roman borders, traveling across Roman borders, meeting with inhabitants from across Roman borders, surveying Roman forts on the border, and commenting on elements of fortification of border cities. And she is recording all of this in a form used by the government and the military to gather and transmit information of this kind, the itinerarium. As a pilgrim, Egeria possessed both the agency and the legitimacy to serve as a collector of information, and her text gives many suggestions that she did precisely this. And so, while Egeria is rarely approached from this angle, her text offers a potentially unique window into the process of informal information gathering in Late Antiquity.

Redefining ‘Appropriate’ Public Female Voice in Late Antiquity

It seems clear that despite efforts to build an interpretive construct of private/public, elite Roman women were always active in public affairs. Casting back from Late Antiquity all the way to early Republican times there is a consistent tradition of female political visibility, particularly in periods of instability where women very often served to normalize situations (be it in a positive or negative fashion). As

228 demonstrated in chapter two, change in the literary or generic sense appears to have been extremely liberating for female authors, because the uncertainty and ambiguity of a nascent literary form provided a channel for authors that lacked rigid societal expectations, and explains at least one aspect of their positive reception. Change and instability seem equally the friends of female-voice in their historical manifestations.

There is also a potential intersection between authorial and political female voice in that our extant female-authored texts come from periods with heightened political visibility for women. As mentioned previously, Perpetua’s work was produced in the period that Julia Domna was active, Proba was most likely writing in a period when

Helena, mother of Constantine, was widely known, and Egeria functioned within the period of the Theodosian empresses. Receptivity to textual voice therefore, seems to have been bolstered, or even encouraged, by larger historical fluctuations of political voice.

As seen with Egeria, political and literary voice also intersects within the texts themselves. Because the authors were themselves upper-class women, they are equally a product of these historical trends, and so it is necessary to recognize the political aspects of such works. Doing so brings a valuable approach towards these works, because it contextualizes them within Roman women’s political history and reveals additional complexities and solutions for the texts and their authors.

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CHAPTER FIVE: LETTERS TO GOD

TESTIMONY, RHETORIC AND CHRISTIAN CONVERSION

Thus far it has been demonstrated that the late antique writers functioned in a tradition of literacy, study and public participation for women. It is now time to turn to a final aspect of the texts, Christianity. All the extant women-authored works from Late

Antiquity are Christian, and this should not be regarded as a random occurrence. This chapter will situate the texts within the context of female participation in early

Christianity, and will attempt to identify what, if any, features of Christianity served to foster these particular works.

As discussed above, women in Republican and Imperial Rome tend to have a visible role in supporting the political life of their families. In a similar sense, when we move into Late Antiquity, we find the continuation of this pattern. Here however, the addition of Christianity has resulted in female political visibility expanding to include a degree of Christian visibility. Milnor’s paradigm for Augustan propaganda provides a useful framework for the developing Christian ideology of Late Antiquity. Milnor has successfully argued for the recognition that Roman private life was used to legitimize

Roman public life, on the familial level. In this sense, any attempts to differentiate spheres of public and private are based not on reality but on unintentionally internalizing the public rhetoric of the period. The credibility of public authority required the possession of an appropriate domestic context, wherein the speaker had the support of a morally appropriate family. Thus, Suetonius portrays Livia and Julia and Octavia as

230 making his clothes, demonstrating the suitability of Augustus’ family members.647

However, as seen with Augustus, the domestic ideals are only significant if they are presented publicly. In other words, private life is meaningful through public expression.

While the qualities or ideal behaviors within domestic space may have changed between the Augustan and Constantinian periods, the legitimizing role of displaying this domestic space did not. That is to say, it seems likely that evidence of suitable domestic actions and beliefs remained a part of familial public display in Late Antiquity.648

Also similar to the Augustan period, early Christianity was a time of intensive propaganda. Similar to Augustus’ perpetuation of a specific ideology of domestic virtues, early Christian writers can be seen to be actively establishing a new Christian ideology.

Christian propaganda of the period was working to perpetuate a new image of Rome within its own ideological parameters. Eusebius’ Vita Constantini is an excellent example of this process, wherein Constantine is cast in often highly unrealistic but extremely pro-

647 Suetonius, Div. Aug. 73 (trans. Loeb): “Except on special occasions he wore common clothes for the house, made by his sister, wife, daughter or granddaughters” (Veste non temere alia quam domestica usus est, ab sorore et uxore et filia neptibusque confecta). For a discussion on how Suetonius uses this passage to comment on the ‘purity’ of Augustus and his family, see K. Milnor, Gender, Domesticity, and the Age of Augustus: Inventing Private Life, 83-85. 648 In this sense the terms ‘domestic’ and ‘private’ should not be considered interchangeable. I will be using the term ‘domestic’ in this chapter to denote this aspect of public life that highlights the domestic space of the family. On the vocabulary of ‘domestic’ and ‘private’, see K. Milnor, Gender, Domesticity, and the Age of Augustus: Inventing Private Life, 15-33, esp. 19-22. On Roman conceptions of domestic space see also L. Nevett, “Perceptions of Domestic Space in Roman Italy,” in The Roman Family in Italy: Status, Sentiment, Space, ed. B. Rawson and P. Weaver (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997), 281-298. On public spaces within the domus, see A. M. Riggsby, “‘Public’ and ‘Private’ in Roman Culture: The Case of the Cubiculum,” Journal of Roman Archaeology 10 (1997), 36-56; A. Wallace-Hadrill, “Public Honor and Private Shame: The Urban Texture of Pompeii,” in Urban Society in Roman Italy, ed. T. Cornell and K. Lomas (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1994), 39-62. On literary depictions of this domestic space, see S. Treggiari, “Home and Forum: Cicero Between ‘Public” and ‘Private’,” Transactions of the American Philological Association 128 (1998), 1-23. See also n. 61 above in the Introduction.

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Christian terms.649 While actual rates and statistics on conversion are a challenge to determine and demonstrably complex, pro-Christian rhetoric was intense. As the fourth century progressed, this rhetoric found its way into the sermons of bishops of regional

Christian communities in Italy. The bishops of Tridentum, and Brixa were all in communication with Ambrose as to how to best pursue a course of anti-pagan propaganda on a local basis, particularly to demonstrate the importance of expressing political allegiance with Rome through Christian devotion.650 It was therefore incumbent upon those who wished to participate in political affairs to demonstrate a suitable domestic environment, replete with Christian activities. In this sense, the possession of

Christian devotion became very much a responsibility of the women of these political families.

Religious participation had certainly always been a responsibility of Roman women (just as for Roman men). Even in studies that argue for the complete isolation and suppression of Roman women, their participation in religious matters has been identified.651 As discussed in the previous chapter, female political visibility was often

649 The Christianization of Rome in the fourth century and roles of Eusebius and Constantine have been well studied and do not need to be reiterated here. See T. D. Barnes, Constantine and Eusebius (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1981); M. R. Salzman, The Making of a Christian Aristocracy: Social and Religious Change in the Western Roman Empire (Harvard University Press, 2004); J. M. Huskinson, Concordia Apostolorum: Christian Propaganda at Rome in the Fourth and Fifth Centuries: A Study in Early Christian Iconography and Iconology (Oxford: British Archaeological Reports, 1982). 650 R. Lizzi, “Ambrose's Contemporaries and the Christianization of Northern Italy,” The Journal of Roman Studies 80 (1990), 156,158,166. For a study of the use of art to promote Christian ideals see L. Grig,”Portraits, Pontiffs and the Christianization of Fourth-Century Rome,” Papers of the British School at Rome 72 (2004), 203-230 651 This important role is summarized by S. A. Takács, Vestal Virgins, Sibyls, and Matrons: Women in Roman Religion (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2008), xx-xxi: “Proper religious performance was crucial in maintaining the state; and, as we will see, women were executors of important religious cults in and outside of Rome…The political sphere was off limits for women,

232 connected with a religious role, particularly in the early Republic.652 In the fourth century

BC, women often appear as religious mediators to influence political and public events.

The building of the temples to Pudicitia, Pudicitia Plebia, and Venus Obsequens were all connected to various manifestations of female piety, while, at the same time, reflecting political conflicts between the Patricians and the Plebians. The execution of Vestals during times of crisis, in order to appease offended gods, speaks to the same belief in female responsibility for appropriate religious devotion. Late Antiquity begins with a similar history of female religious sacrifice. Early female martyrs such as Perpetua,

Felicitas, and Bibiana were executed in a similar context of political and religious visibility. In this sense Christian women martyrs and accused Vestals reflect a single concept of the importance of women fulfilling appropriate religious functions and the repercussions if they do not.653 Female religious contributions during the Punic Wars suggest a shift in emphasis away from female culpability and towards female

but women were instrumental in the maintenance of social stability. It is Roman religion that provides us a unique opportunity to understand better women’s societal importance.” For more on female participation and responsibility in pagan religions, see M. Beard, J. North and S. Price, Religions of Rome, vol. I, illustrated, reprint (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 297-299 and J. Scheid, “The Religious Roles of Roman Women,” in A History of Women in the West 1: From Ancient Goddesses to Christian Saints. ed. P. Schmitt Pantell) Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. 1992), 377-408. For examples of this recognition of religious responsibility in a Christian context consider A. Jensen, God’s Self-Confident Daughters: Early Christianity and the Liberation of Women (Trans. O. C. Dean. Louisville: John Knox Press, 1996), xxv-xxvii in which Christianity is described as one of the few means of autonomy for Roman women. On the official functions of women in the early Church see R. Gryson, Le Ministère des Femmes dans l'Église Ancienne (Gembloux: Duculot 1972) and also J. Laporte, The Role of Women in Early Christianity. For the refutation of the idea that Christianity was liberating for women, see K. Thraede, “Frau,” Rivista di Archeologia Cristiana 8 (1972), 197- 269. 652 On the continuity of female religious duty between pagan and Christian Rome, see C. M. C. Green, “Holding the Line: Women, Ritual and the Protection of Rome,” in Women and Gender in Ancient Religions: Interdisciplinary Approaches, ed. S. P. Ahearne-Kroll, P. A. Holloway and J. A. Kelhoffer (Tübingen: Morh Siebeck, 2010), 292-294. 653 It should be noted that such a degree of continuity cannot be found for Roman men in that there is no strong history, prior to Christianity, of a masculine role equivalent to that of the Vestals.

233 responsibility, and this too is apparent in Late Antiquity. The organization of the religious procession of maidens by Aemilia in the third century BC, a procession funded by the matrons of the city, is a clear indication of the sort of public devotion which was then expected of Roman women. Equally indicative is the vital role women played in the introduction of Magna Mater to Rome. For late antique women, once Christianity became a state-supported religion, it was equally their responsibility to escort the

Christian God into the city.

As with Aemilia in the third century BC, Late Antiquity had a number of elite and imperial women who provided visual examples of appropriate (Christian) domestic contexts for their families.654 Such actions may have found a precedent in women such as

Prisca, Galeria Valeria, and Otacilia Severa, who may reveal Christian affiliations even before Constantine’s support of the religion. For example, Prisca and her daughter

Galeria Valeria have been associated with Christian martyrdom; they were both executed by Licinius in 315. While the connotations are undoubtedly political, there are some inferences that both women were in fact Christian sympathizers, if not outright

Christians.655 Indeed, Imperial female support of Christianity can be traced back even

654 While I would suggest that there was a great deal of domestic continuity between the pagan and Christian period for women, not all scholars agree. See, for example, A. Ewing Hickey, Women of the Roman Aristocracy as Christian Monastics (Ann Arbor: UMI Research Press, 1987), 87-88. 655 This is suggested by Lactantius, De Mortibus Persecutorum, 15. Lactantius notes that Diocletian forced his daughter Valeria and his wife Prisca to pollute themselves by sacrificing (Furebat ergo iam non in domesticos tantum, sed in omnes; et primam omnium filiam Valeriam coniugemque Priscam sacrificio pollui coegit). Their reluctance to sacrifice could be suggestive of Christian sympathies. S. Williams, Diocletian and the Roman Recovery (London: B. T. Batsford, 1985), 173, rightly points out the tenous nature of this assumption. For a general introduction to Prisca, see W. Ensslin, "Prisca (3)," Realencyclopädie der Classischen Altertumswissenschaft 22.2: col. 2560, and also A. H. M Jones, J. R. Martindale, and J. Morris, "Prisca 1," The Prosopography of the Later Roman Empire (Cambridge, 1971), 1.726. On Galeria Valeria see W. Ensslin, “Valeria (3),” Realencyclopädie der Classischen Altertumswissenschaft

234 further, to the reign of Otacilia Severa (244-249), at least in the views of some writers.656

This empress is associated with a period of tolerance towards Christians and possibly even extended her personal support to the Bishop Babylas.657

With the establishment of Constantine as sole emperor, and Christianity as a state religion, Helena becomes a prominent Imperial figure with an intensely religious persona.

As pointed out by Pohlsander, considerable care must be taken to separate the churches and religious honors that Constantine associates with his mother from her own independent activities.658 However, in terms of identifying the ideal of Helena, both sets of evidence work towards the same point. Eusebius portrays Helena as an active founder of churches and a giver of Christian charity. Indeed, according to him Helena was so involved in these works that Constantine gave her free access to the treasury, in order for her to have sufficient financial support for her activities. “He [Constantine] had even granted her authority over the Imperial treasures, to use and dispense them according to her own will, and discretion in every case for this enviable distinction also she received at the hands of her son.”659 Of her pilgrimage to the Holy Lands Eusebius reports,

7A: col. 2282 and also A. H. M Jones, J. R. Martindale, and J. Morris, "Galeria Valeria," The Prosopography of the Later Roman Empire (Cambridge, 1971), 1.937. 656 Chron. Pasch. 1: 503.18-504.1 (ed. Dindorf in Corpus Scriptorum Historiae Byzantinae) (trans. M. A. Schatkin, (The Fathers of the Church: A New Translation 73), 63): “Decius killed the holy Babylas, not only because he was a Christian, but because he also dared to prevent the wife of emperor Philip [Otacilia Severa] and Philip himself, who were Christians, from entering the church, because Philip had transgressed.” (οὖτος Δέκιος ἀνεῖλε τὸν ἅγιον Βαβυλᾶν, οὐχ ὡς χριστιανὸν µόνον, ἀλλ᾿ ὅτι καὶ ἐτόλµησεν ἐπισχεῖν τοῦ βασιλέως Φιλίππου τὴν γυναῖκα καὶ αὐτὸν Φιλιππον χριστιανοὺς ὄντας εἰσελθεῖν εἰς τὴν ἐκκλησίαν, παρανοµήσαντος τοῦ Φιλίππου). 657 Both Eusebius and Jerome suggest that Otacilia Severa was in contact with Origen. See Jerome, De viris illustribus, 54, and Eusebius, HE, 6.36.6. On Otacilia Severa as empress, see Inscriptiones Latinae Selectae, 506-513. 658 H. A. Pohlsander, Helena: Empress and Saint, 20-23. 659 Eusebius, Vita Const. 3.47.3 (PG 20.1108) (trans. E. Cushing Richardson, Nicene and Post- Nicene Fathers, Second Series, vol. 1. ed. P. Schaff and H. Wace (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1890): ἥδη δὲ καὶ θησαυρῶν βασιλικῶν παρεῖχε τὴν ἐξουσίαν, χρῆσθαι

235

For on the occasion of a circuit which she made of the eastern provinces, in the splendor of imperial authority, she bestowed abundant proofs of her liberality as well on the inhabitants of the several cities collectively, as on individuals who approached her, at the same time that she scattered largesses among the soldiery with a liberal hand. But especially abundant were the gifts she bestowed on the naked and unprotected poor. To some she gave money, to others an ample supply of clothing: she liberated some from imprisonment, or from the bitter servitude of the mines; others she delivered from unjust oppression, and others again, she restored from exile.660

Disregarding any factors of personal religious devotion, Helena’s public image of

Christian devotion was clearly well defined in Eusebius’ discussions of the Imperial household. Eusebius casts her religious contributions as a credit to Constantine, as much as to herself. In his view, her pilgrimage to the east was an Imperial pilgrimage, and she stood as a representative of her family and the appropriate religious concerns held by her son. Drijvers has added an additional complexity to this pilgrimage by pointing out the obvious political nature of many of her activities and suggesting that Helena was actually

κατὰ προαίρεσιν καὶ διοικεῖν κατὰ γνώµην, ὅπως ἄν ἐθέλοι καὶ ὡς ἅν εὗ ἔχειν αὐτῇ νοµίζοιτο ἕκαστα, τοῦ παιδὸς αὐτὴν κἀν τούτοις διαπρεπῆ καὶ ἀξιοζήλωτον πεποιηµένου. On Helena’s pilgrimage see also Hans A. Pohlsander, Helena: Empress and Saint, 84-100. E. D. Hunt, Holy Land Pilgrimage in the Late Roman Empire AD 312-460, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1982), 28; Hans-Henning Lauer, Kaiserin Helena: Leben und Legenden (Munich: 1967), 28. For a survey of the major scholarship on Helena’s pilgrimage and its date see Pohlsander, 85, n.7. 660 Eusebius, Vita Const. 3.44 (PG 20.1105) (trans. A. Cushman McGiffert): Περὶ µεγαλοψυχίας καὶ εὐποιίας τῆς ‘Ελένης· Τὴν γάρτοι σύµπασαν ἑῴαν µεγαλοπρεπείᾳ βασιλικῆς ἐξουσίας ἐµπεριελθοῦσα, µυρία µὲν ὰθρόως τοῖς κατὰ πόλιν ἐδωρεῖτο δήµοις, ίδίᾳ τε τῶν προσιόντων ἑκάστῳ· µυρία δὲ τοῖς στρατιωτικοῖς τάγµασι δεξιᾷ µεγαλοπρεπεῖ δίένεµε, πλεῖστά θ᾿ ὅσα πένησι γυµνοῖς καὶ ἀπεριστάτοις ἐδίδοι, τοῖς µὲν χρηµάτων δόσεις ποιουµένη, τοῖς δὲ τά πρὸς τἠ, τοῦ σώµατος σκέπην δαψιλῶς ἑπαρκοῦσα· ἑτέρους ἀπήλλαττε δεσµῶν, µετάλλων τε κακοπαθείᾳ ταλαιπωρουµένους· ἠλευθέρου τε πλεονεκτουµένους· καὶ πάλιν ἅλλους ἐξορίας ἀνεκαλεῖτο. On her pilgrimage see also K. G. Holum, “Hadrian and St. Helena: Imperial Travel and the Origins of Christian Holy Land Pilgrimage,” in The Blessings of Pilgrimage, ed. R. Ousterhout (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1990), 74-76.

236 conducting a state visit of the east.661 The memory of her journey by people later in the fourth century seems to incorporate both of these interpretations. Paulinus of Nola, in letter to Sulpicius Severus c.400, describes Helena’s pilgrimage.

She was divinely inspired, as events have shown, when she came to Jerusalem. She was then reigning together with her son and held the title of Augusta. She asked her son to support her plans: all the places where our Lord had set foot and which are marked by the remembrances of divine works for us she intended to cleanse, by destroying temples and idols, from every contamination with profane impiety and to return them to the true faith, so that at last the Church might be glorified in the land of its own origin. Helena, the emperor’s mother and Augusta, readily obtained the permissions of her son the emperor, the treasuries were opened for the holy purpose, and she used up the entire household. With all the expense and care of which she was capable and which piety advised, she covered and embellished, by building churches, all the places in which our Lord and Savior had fulfilled the saving mysteries of his love by the sacraments of the incarnation, passion, resurrections, and ascension.662

The positive example of Helena is even further reinforced by the extremely negative example of Constantine’s wife Fausta. Constantine’s decree of damnatio memoriae against Fausta has eliminated most information about her. However, it

661 J. W. Drijvers, Helena Augusta: The Mother of Constantine the Great and the Legend of her Finding the True Cross (Leiden, 1992), 65-72. The view is also followed by L. L Coon, Sacred Fictions: Holy Women and Hagiography in Late Antiquity (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1997), 99. 662 Paulinus of Nola, Ep. 31.4 (PL 61.327B-328A) (trans. H. Pohlsander, 96): quae divino, ut exitus docuit, inspirata consilio, cum Hierosolymam agnosceret nomine, quae Augusta cum filio conregnabat, eum rogavit ut sibi facultatem daret cuncta illic loca Dominicis impressa vestigiis, et divinorum erga nos operum signata monimentis purgare, destructis templis et idolis, ab omni prophanae impietatis contagio, et religioni suae reddere; ut Ecclesia tandem in terra originis suae celebraretur. Itaque prompto filii imperatoris assensu mater Augusta, patefactis ad opera sancta thesauris, toto abusa fisco est: quantoque sumtu atque cultu regina poterat, et religio suadebat, aedificatis basilicis contexit omnes et excoluit locos, in quibus salutaria nobis mysteria pietatis suae, incarnationis, et passionis, et resurrectionis, atque ascensionis sacramentis Dominus Redemtor impleverat.

237 established a pointed comparison of the ‘good’ and the ‘bad’ women of the Imperial household. Fausta’s secular conspiracy becomes a foil to Helena’s religious participation, very much to the benefit of Helena. Flavia Julia Constantia, the half-sister of Constantine and the wife of Licinius, despite her loyalty to her husband, converted to Christianity after his death, when she moved to live at her brother’s court.663 One might suspect that this was for her a political necessity of continued support by her brother, in light of

Helena’s public display. Thus it appears that the display of a Christian-centered domestic space by women becomes an important legitimizing feature in relation to the public voice of their families.

In the later fourth century, around the same time that Helena is being so highly praised by Paulinus, Imperial women are often described through their contributions to

Christianity. Theodosius’ first wife, Aelia Flaccilla, is described by Theodoret as heavily involved in charity.

The greatness of the good gift given her made her love for Him who gave it all the greater, so she bestowed every kind of attention on the maimed and the mutilated, declining all aid from her household and her guards, herself visiting the houses where the sufferers lodged, and providing every one with what he required. She also went about the guest chambers of the churches and ministered to the wants of the sick, herself handling pots and pans, and tasting broth, now bringing in a dish and breaking bread and offering morsels, and washing out a cup and going through all the other duties which are supposed to be proper to servants and maids. To them who strove to restrain her from doing these things with her own hands she would say, “It befits a sovereign to distribute gold; I, for the sovereign power that

663 Jerome, Ep. 133.4; Theodoret, Hist. Eccl. 2.2; On Constantia’s exchange of letters with Eusebius of Caesarea see H. Thümmel, "Eusebios' Brief an Kaiserin Constantia," Klio 66 (1984), 210-22.

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has been given me, am giving my own service to the Giver.”664

As with Helena, Flaccilla is presented as engaged in Christian devotion, but also as with

Helena, this devotion is presented as a credit to her family, for Theodoret’s discussion of her Christian works is a small digression in his description of the moral superiority of

Theodosius. “Yet other opportunities of improvement lay within the emperor’s reach, for his wife used constantly to put him in mind of the divine laws in which she had first carefully educated herself.”665

Outside of Imperial circles, elite women begin to display similar examples of religious participation. Helena’s establishment of churches, such as Santi Croce in

Gerusalemme in 325, was followed by a wave of other women acting as patrons of churches. Santa Quattro Coronati, which was built possibly even earlier than Santa

Croce, was built under the patronage of a woman identified as Aemilia.666 Santa Susanna

664 Theodoret, Hist. Eccl. 5.18 (PG 82.1237) (trans. B. Jackson, Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Second Series, vol. 3. ed. P. Schaff and H. Wace (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1892): Τῆς γὰρ εὐεργεσίας τὸ µέγεθος µεῖζον τὸ περὶ τὸν εὐεργέτην είργάζετο φίλτρον. Αὐτίκα γοῦν καὶ τῶν τὸ σῶµα πεπηρωµένων, καὶ ἅπαντα τὰ µέλη λελωβηµένων, παντοδαπήν ἐποιεῖτο φροντίδα, οὐκ οὶκέταις, οὐδὲ δορυφόροις ὑπουργοῖς κεχρηµένη, ἀλλ᾿ αὐτουργὸς γιγνοµένη, καὶ εὶς τάς τούτων καταγωγὰς ἀφικνουµένη, καὶ ἐκάστῳ τὴν χρείαν πορίζουσα. Οὕτω καὶ τῶν ἐκκλησιῶν τοὺς ξενῶνας περινοστοῦσα, τοὺς κλινοπετεῖς δι᾿ ἑαυτῆς ἑνοσήλευεν, αὕτη καὶ χύτρας άπτοµένη, καὶ ζυµοῦ γευοµένη, καὶ τρύβλιον προσφέρουσ, καὶ ἅρτον κλῶσα, καὶ ψωµοὺς ὀρέγουσα, καὶ κύλικα ἀποκλυζουσα, καὶ τἄλλα πάντα ἐργαζοµένη, ὄσα οὶκετῶν καὶ θεραπαινίδων ἕργα νενὸµισται. Καὶ τοῖς τὴν αὐτουργίαν ἐπέχειν πειρωµένοις ἐπέλεγεν, ῶς ‘Τὸ µὲν χρυσίον διανέµειν τῇ βασιλείᾳ προσήκει· ὲγὼ δὲ ὑπὲρ αὐτῆς γε βασιλείας τὴν αὐτουργίαν τῷ δεδωκότι προσφέρω. On Aelia Flaccilla see K. G. Holum, Theodosian Empresses: Women and Imperial Dominion in Late Antiquity (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1989), 22-41. 665 Theodoret, Hist. Eccl. 5.18 (PG 82.1238) (trans. B. Jackson): Εἶχε δὲ καὶ ἅλλην ὰφορµὴν ὠφελείας ό βασιλεύς. ʹΗ ψὰρ τοῦ γἀµου τὸν ζυγὸν µετ᾿ αὐτοῦ δεξαµένη, τῶν θείων αὐτῷ ωυνεχῶς ἀνεµίµνησκε νόµων, ἑαυτὴν τούτους πρῶτον ἀκριβῶς ἐκπαιδεύσασα. For further praise of Flaccilla see Gregory of Nyssa, Oratio funebris in Flaccilam Imperatricem, ed. Spira Jaeger- Langerbeck, vol. IX, 481. 666 For an excellent overview of women’s involvement as church patrons see M. Y. MacDonald, C. Osiek, and J. H. Tulloch, A Woman's Place: House Churches in Earliest Christianity

239 seems to refer to a patron of the church itself, which came into existence in 330.667

Likewise, the Basilica di Sant’Anastasia al Palatino appears to be named for a founder,

Anastasia, rather than the saint who later became associated with the church.668 Lucina gave her name to , which was built on her donated property in the mid-fourth century.669 Crescentia is identified as the patron of , Sabina as the patron of , and Cecilia the patron of Santa Cecilia in Trastevere.670

Women also appear as the patrons and supporters of many church interests.

Jerome’s letters indicate a number of elite women who were active in the early church.

His circle with Paula, Marcella, Eustochium and Principia has been well treated elsewhere, and does not need to be repeated here.671 Other women who appear in his letters are less often discussed. Jerome writes to Furia, a wealthy Roman widow, on the importance of not marrying a second time. Within the letter he both displays a familiarity with the upstanding morality of her family and suggests how she should spend her fortune.672 Jerome suggests that Furia is following the prayers of her deceased mother,

Titiana, in not contracting a second marriage, and so continues a tradition in her family

(Minneapolis: Fortress, 2006). For an old but extensive survey of Roman churches see M. Armellini, Le Chiese di Roma dal Secolo IV al XIX, (Tipografia Vaticana, 1891), 14-20. For Santa Quattro Coronati see G. Sicari, “,” in Reliquie Insigni e "Corpi Santi" a Roma, Alma Roma, 1998. 667 M. Clauss, "Susanna," in Biographisch-Bibliographische Kirchenlexikon 11 (1996), 278-279. 668 M. Armellini, Le Chiese di Roma dal Secolo IV al XIX, 14-20. 669 D. Mondini, "S. Lorenzo in Lucina," in Die Kirchen der Stadt Rom im Mittelalter 1050-1300, Vol. 3 (G-L), ed. P. C. Claussan, D. Mondini, D. Senekovic (Stuttgart, 2010), 261–309; R. Krautheimer, Corpus Basilicarum Christianarum Romae. The early Christian basilicas of Rome, 2, Città del Vaticano 1959, 178-179. 670 On Santa Sabina see J. J. Berthier, L'Eglise de Sainte-Sabine à Rome (Rome: M. Bretschneider, 1910); R. Krautheimer, Early Christian and Byzantine Architecture (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1984), 171–174; for San Sisto Vecchio and Santa Cecilia in Trastevere see M. Armellini, Le Chiese di Roma dal Secolo IV al XIX, 14-20. 671 See Chapter Three, 169-180 for additional discussion on study circles. 672 Jerome, Ep. 54; M. E. Pence, “Satire in St. Jerome,” The Classical Journal 36:6 (1941), 328, implies that there was a friendship between Jerome and Furia.

240 upheld even in pre-Christian times.673 He then moves on to praise her sister-in-law

Blaesilla for having the decency to die shortly after her husband and thus live her widowhood in a virtuous manner. He instructs Furia to support those who are of the church, commenting,

Give your riches not to those who feed on pheasants but to those who have none but common bread to eat, such as stays hunger while it does not stimulate lust. Consider the poor and needy. Give to everyone that asks of you, but especially unto them who are of the household of faith. Clothe the naked, feed the hungry, visit the sick. Every time that you hold out your hand, think of Christ. See to it that you do not, when the Lord your God asks an alms of you, increase riches which are none of His.674

Jerome gives a similar set of advice to the newly widowed Salvina. In this letter he suggests that she devote herself to charitable works to preserve the reputation of her husband and herself, and her children.675 Salvina will go on to become a deaconess for

John Chrysostom.676 In his letter to Theodora, Jerome praises her deceased husband

Licinius for his Christian acts, but concludes the letter by telling Theodora that he is hers to command should she need his assistance with any of her projects, implying that she is also very active in the church.677 Jerome’s letters also reveal elite women active outside

673 Jerome, Ep. 54.1. For reference to Furia within Jerome’s treatment of pagan literature, see A. S. Pease, “The Attitude of Jerome towards Pagan Literature,” Transactions and Proceedings of the American Philological Association 50 (1919), 160 n.74. 674 Jerome, Ep. 54.12 (PL 22.556) (trans. W.H. Fremantle, G. Lewis and W.G. Martley): Illis tribue divitias tuas, qui non Phasides aves, sed cibarium panem comedant; qui famem expellat, non qui augeat luxuriam. Intellige super egenum et pauperem. Omni petenti te, da; sed maxime domesticis fidei: nudum vesti, esurientem ciba, aegrotantem visita. Quotiescumque manum extendis, Christum cogita. Cave ne, mendicante Domino Deo tuo, alienas divitias augeas. 675 Jerome, Ep. 79; On Salvina see also J. N. D. Kelly, Jerome: His life, Writings, and Controversies (London: Duckworth, 1975), 216. 676 On Salvina see E. Venables, “Salvina,” in A Dictionary of Christian Biography and Literature, ed. H. Wace and W. C. Piercy (London: John Murray, 1911). 677 Jerome, Ep. 75.5.

241 of Rome and the Imperial court. Three of his letters are addressed to women in Gaul. One of his letters, addressed to Ageruchia, is similar to those to Flavia and Salvina. Jerome once again describes the responsibilities of widowhood and, once again, comments on her obligation to use her wealth as a Christian patron.678 The other two letters, addressed to

Hedibia and Algasia respectively, are detailed explanations of scriptural questions the women had sent.679

The letters of Augustine suggest similar leadership by women. Of particular note are his letters to Proba and Juliana. Two letters to Proba have survived. In the first,

Augustine writes a lengthy discourse in response to her inquiry about how she should pray as a widow. Augustine both comments on the prestige of her family, describing her as “rich and noble, and the mother of an illustrious family,”680 and intimates a long- standing tradition of conversation between himself and her.681 This tradition is further indicated in another letter to Proba, which appears to refer to an ongoing scriptural discussion.682 Augustine’s letter to Proba and Juliana about Demetrias and her taking the

678 Jerome, Ep. 123. On Ageruchia see G. Cloke, This Female Man of God: Women and Spiritual Power in the Patristic Age, AD 350-450 (New York: Routledge, 1995), 51-53; J. Laporte, The Role of Women in Early Christianity (E. Mellen Press, 1982), 67-68. 679 Jerome, Ep.120; 121. For a discussion of Jerome’s letter to Hedibia, see V. Burrus, The Making of a Heretic: Gender, Authority, and the Priscillianist Controversy, 132-133; For a discssion of Jerome’s letter to Algasia, see A. Cain, The Letters of Jerome: Asceticism, Biblical Exegesis, and the Construction of Christian Authority in Late Antiquity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 191. 680 Augustine, Ep. 130.2.6: dives et nobilis, et tantae familiae mater. 681 Augustine, Ep. 130.1.1. The relationship between Jerome and the Ancii women is discussed by A. Kurdock, “Demetrias Ancilla Dei: Anicia Demetrias and the Problem of the Missing Patron,” in Religion, Dynasty and Patronage in Early Christian Rome, 300-900, ed. K. Cooper and J. Hillner (Cambrige: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 190-224; On Demetrias see A. S. Jacobs, “Writing Demetrias: Ascetic Logic in Ancient Christianity,” Church History 69:4 (2000), 719- 748. For further discussion on Anicia Faltonia Proba and for her epitaphs, see K. Cooper, The Virgin and the Bride: Idealized Womanhood in Late Antiquity (Cambridge Mass.; Harvard University Press, 1996), 103-104. 682 Augustine, Ep. 131.

242 oath of virginity provides additional evidence for the public nature of familial devotion, because he notes how widely known this event was.

For while the consecration of the daughter of your house to a life of virginity is being published by most busy fame in all places where you are known, and that is everywhere, you have outstripped its flight by more sure and reliable information in a letter from yourselves, and have made us rejoice in certain knowledge before we had time to be questioning the truth of any report concerning an event so blessed and remarkable.683

Augustine indicates that Demetrias’ actions were widely reported, and clearly Proba and

Juliana were also taking care to publicize the event. Thus, Demetrias’ personal religious act becomes a highly public event that provides further praise for her family.

Proba and Religious Responsibility

Proba’s cento easily fits within this model of religious obligation and declaration for elite women.684 As was discussed in Chapter One, both the Probii and the Anicii were early converts to Christianity, and the family had demonstrable associations with

Constantine’s court from 314 onwards.685 To reiterate this: Proba’s grandfather, Petronius

Anianus, was consul in 314, while her father, Petronius Probianus, served as proconsul in

683 Augustine, Ep. 150 (PL 33.645) (trans. W.H. Fremantle, G. Lewis and W.G. Martley): Vestrae namque stirpis sanctimoniam virginalem, quoniam quacumque innotuistis, ac per hoc ubique, fama celeberrima praedicat, velocissimum volatum ejus fideliore atque certiore litterarum nuntio praevenistis, et prius nos fecistis exsultare de cognito tam excellenti bono, quam dubitare de audito. For additional references to the respect Jerome had for the Anicii, see H. Sivan, “Anician Women, the Cento of Proba, and Aristocratic Conversion in the Fourth Century,” 153. 684 For a less positive interpretation on the agency of women in the Christianization of Rome, see K. Cooper, “Insinuation of Womanly Influence: An Aspect of the Christianization of the Roman Aristocracy,” The Journal of Roman Studies 82 (1992), 150-164. 685 See Chapter One, 68-70.

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Africa from 315-317, consul in 322, and was then the prefect of Rome from 329-331.686

Likewise, the Anician conversion to Christianity has been suggested to be at least in part politically motivated, since the family became prominent (and Christian) in the 320s following a decade of political exclusion.687 Thus it seems that the political success of family was to some degree due to their decision to identify themselves as Christian in order to follow Constantine’s religious conversion.688

If the Probii were early converts to Christianity, how then are we to understand

Proba’s conversion as she describes it in the cento? As the daughter of Probianus, there is a possibility that she is referring to her conversion in light of a larger familial conversion.

Identifying a concrete date for this is, however, almost impossible. At the earliest,

Proba’s birth date has been suggested as 306. This would make her only six or seven at the time of the declaration of Milan, and no more than eight when her grandfather served his consulship, far too young to have penned the secular poetry that she refers to in the cento. However, if it is assumed that the Probii were following the lead of Constantine in terms of religious tolerance, but not Christian exclusivity, it might be more convincing to suppose the possibility of a later, more extensive conversion. In this instance, a date in the 320s, most likely after 324, would be a more obvious choice. This would put Proba around the age of 18 when her family made a real conversion to Christianity. If this was the case, Proba would have been more than capable of spending her teenage years writing

686 Prosopography of the Later Roman Empire I, 68-9. 687 H. Sivan, “Anician Women, the Cento of Proba, and Aristocratic Conversion in the Fourth Century,” 151. 688 D. M. Novak, “Constantine and the Senate: An Early Phase in the Christianization of the Roman Aristocracy,” Ancient Society 10 (1979), 296.

244 poetry before becoming Christian. It would be extremely helpful to know what war Proba is referring to in her secular poetry. About her early work Proba tells only this:

From earliest times, leaders had broken sacred Vows of peace—poor men, caught up in a fatal Greed for power. And I have catalogued the different slayings, monarchs’ cruel wars, And battle lines made up of hostile Relatives. I sang of famous shields, Their honor cheapened by a parent’s blood, And trophies captured from no enemy; Bloodstained parades of triumph “fame” had won, And cities orphaned of so many citizens, So many times. I do confess.689

Attempts to identify a specific war from her cryptic comments have been largely unsuccessful, and indeed, from the lines themselves there is little to suggest anything beyond the general theme of civil war. As discussed in Chapter One, the idea that Proba is referring to a specific war stems from the identification of her early work as poem about the war between Constantine and Magnentius in a now lost manuscript.690 Clearly the annotator was in error;691 however, it is suggestive that Proba was writing about an actual war, and one relevant to her. Green has chosen to emend Constantine to

689 Proba, Cento, 1-8 (trans. Clark and Hatch): Iam dudum temerasse duces pia foedera pacis,/ regnandi miseros tenuit quos dira cupido,/ diuersasque neces, regum crudelia bella/ cognatasque acies, pollutos caede parentum/ insignis clipeos nulloque ex hoste tropaea,/sanguine consperos tulerat quos fama triumphos,/ innumeris totiens viduatas civibus urbes,/ confiteor, scripsi.. 690 On the lost manuscript, see Chapter One, n. 196. See also P. Green, “Which Proba Wrote the Cento?” Classical Quarterly 58.1 (2008), 264. 691 Constantine and Magnentius did not fight a civil war. This presents a few options as to who the manuscript was actually referring. One option is to emend Constantine to Constantius (who actually did fight a civil war against Magnentius), the other option is to emend Magnentius to Maxentius, or perhaps Maximian, both of whom actually did fight against Constantine. For a general overview of Constantine’s reign, see Av. Cameron, "The Reign of Constantine, A.D. 306–337,” in The Cambridge Ancient History, Volume XII: The Crisis of Empire, ed. A. Bowman, A. Cameron, and P. Garnsey (Cambrige: Cambridge University Press, 200), 590–109. On Magnentius see J. F. Drinkwater, "The Revolt and Ethnic Origin of the Usurper Magnentius (350–53), and the Rebellion of Vetranio (350)," Chiron 30 (2000), 131-159.

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Constantius.692 It is equally possible, however, that it is Magnentius who ought to be emended. Here Proba does offer some suggestion as to who, with her comments on

“parent’s blood” and “hostile relatives”. Constantine was the son-in-law of Maximian and the brother-in-law of Maxentius. Maximian was ultimately forced to commit suicide by

Constantine in 310. Hence, Proba’s reference to a family at war would be well in keeping with the war fought between Constantine and Maxentius.693 The timing is also appropriate in that this war would have been fresh in the mind of her family when Proba was a young woman. In this light, it also suggests additional political implications for her cento, in that her reference to her conversion would also be a reminder of her family’s conversion, and, thus, their appropriate domestic behavior.

Such an interpretation is only feasible if Proba was born at the earliest of her proposed dates. If approached from the other end of the spectrum of possible dates, 320, her conversion remains puzzling, as she would have been born into an already Christian household. In this situation it is possible that Proba could be casting her conversion within the context of her husband’s family rather than her own. Proba’s concluding lines refer to her husband and family as living in the true faith.

This observance do you keep, O husband sweet, And if we do win merit through our piety, Then pure in heart may our children’s children keep the Faith.694

692 P. Green, “Which Proba Wrote the Cento?” 264. 693 This is the viewpoint taken by Vanderspoel in an as yet unpublished article, “Who Was Proba and When Did She Write Her Cento?” 694 Proba, Cento, 692-694 (trans. Clark and Hatch, 95): hunc ipse teneto,/ o dulcis coniunx, et si pietate meremur,/ hac casti maneant in religione nepotes.

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Is Proba in some way connecting her conversion to her husband? Adelphius’ religious beliefs at the time of his marriage to Proba are unclear . However, he has been identified as a relative of the Christian woman Adelphia.695 Proba could, quite deliberately, be casting her conversion within the domestic space of her marriage. In this sense, her conversion is a credit to her husband, and to his political viability. If Proba was born in

320, her marriage to Adelphius was most likely just shortly before Eusebius published his effusive praises of Helena and also of Constantine for converting his mother to

Christianity. Implications of a similar conversion would only be perceived to the benefit of Adelphius. This interpretation is also perhaps more problematic than the previous one, in that placing her birth date in the 320s puts her and her son’s birth within the same decade, which is highly implausible.

The discussion above further demonstrates the implausibility of Anicia Faltonia

Proba as the author. Based on the potential birth dates of her mother or grandmother,

Faltonia was born between the mid 320s and the 340s. The conversion of the Probii was therefore a thing of the past. However, this is not to say that Faltonia could not have been involved in the cento. Sivan has suggested, quite convincingly, that Faltonia was involved with the gift of a copy of the cento to Arcadius.696 As discussed in Chapter One, the literary talents of the family had certainly been a long-standing point of prestige for the family.697 A few years before the cento was sent as a gift to the eastern court,

Petronius Probus, the nephew of Faltonia, donated a collection of poems to the emperor

695 D. M. Novak, “Constantine and the Senate: An Early Phase in the Christianization of the Roman Aristocracy,” 289-290. 696 H. Sivan, “Anician Women, the Cento of Proba, and Aristocratic Conversion in the Fourth Century,” 153 697 See Chapter One, 68-71.

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Theodosius.698 These poems were the best works of three generations of Probii men, beginning with Probianus. Petronius Probus was presumably a literary man himself, as he included some of his own poems in the collection he sent as a gift to Theodosius. His sons, Olybrius and Probinus, are noted by Claudian and Symmachus for their literary talents as well.699 It seems unlikely, in these circumstances, that the scribe who wrote the dedication of the cento to Arcardius, would have been from outside of the family. These public literary demonstrations were focused on family display. Faltonia, as argued in

Chapter One, seems a particularly good choice for dedicator for a number of reasons, including her well-known religious devotion and her familial connection to the cento.

Most significantly, in light of the role women seem to have played as visible markers of familial Christian devotion, Faltonia may have been seen as the most appropriate choice for dedicator. Thus, Proba’s work stands as a piece of visible familial Christian devotion for not only one but at least two different generations of the Probii/Anicii, wherein the cento of the first Proba is reintroduced as an expression of female religious devotion to bolster the reputation of a later Proba and her family.700

Further support for identifying Proba’s text as a politicized expression of

Christianity can be found in the much later writings of Eudocia and so it is useful to look

698 H. Sivan, “Anician Women, the Cento of Proba, and Aristocratic Conversion in the Fourth Century,” 45 699 Claudian, CM, 40 (trans. Loeb): “Is writing so difficult? Nay, who so eloquent as thou whether thou dost compose verses or, a second Cicero, thunder forth thy speeches? Greater even than thy riches is thy genius, greater thine eloquence even than thy wealth” (cribendine labor? sed quae tam prona facultas,carmina seu fundis seu Cicerone tonas?cedere divitiis animi fortuna fatetur et tantas oris copia vincit opes). See also Claudian, Panegyricus dictus Probino et Olybrio consulibus, 151-151 (trans. Loeb): “The Muses have endowed them [Probinus and Olybrius] with full measure of their skill; their eloquence knows no bounds” (Pieriis pollent studiis multoque redundant eloquio). Symmachus, Ep. 5.67, notes that Olybrius and Probinus were given to the study of literature (litterarum studiis deditis). 700 H. Sivan, “Anician Women, the Cento of Proba, and Aristocratic Conversion in the Fourth Century,” 153.

248 briefly as what Eudocia was doing in her Greek cento since she demonstrates the use of

Christian literature as a means of increasing or supporting authority even when other channels were blocked. Eudocia’s rise to empress, Imperial career, and eventual exile, were defined through her rivalry with Pulcheria, the sister of Theodosius. The fractionalization of the court between these two women and their supporters is well attested.701 Despite the later interpretation that Pulcheria was responsible for bringing

Eudocia to the attention of Theodosius II, it seems much more plausible that Eudocia was brought to court by Pulcheria’s enemies, in the hopes of weakening her Imperial authority.702 As empress, however, Eudocia never attained the level of authority that was held by Pulcheria. Cyril of Alexandria noted to Theodosius that Pulcheria shares “in the care and administration of your empire”, while Eudocia “exults in the offspring you have prayed for.”703 In this idealization of the Imperial household, Eudocia is relegated firmly to domestic tasks. Domestic space, however, seems to have been a prime platform for female religious expression.

In conjunction with this, Eudocia’s ascension to the throne has been identified in part with her literary and educational background. As the daughter of Leontius, Eudocia was a representative of classical culture, albeit a recently Christianized representative.

701 See L. James, Empresses and Power in Early Byzantium (London: Leicester University Press, 2001), 19, 66-68; K. G. Holum, Theodosian Empresses: Women and Imperial Dominion in Late Antiquity, 112-146. 702 K. G. Holum, Theodosian Empresses: Women and Imperial Dominion in Late Antiquity, 121, and also “Pulcheria's Crusade and the Ideology of Imperial Victory,” Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 18 (1977), 172. On Pulcheria more generally, see S. Letsch-Brunner, " Pulcheria [2]," Brill’s New Pauly, ed. H. Cancik and H. Schneider (Brill Online, 2012). 703 Acta Conciliorum Oecumenicorum, I, 1,1,1,44: καὶ αὐταῖς δὲ ταῖς θεοφιλεστάταις ἀληθῶς βασιλίον, αἵ τῆι ὑµετέραι γαληνότητι συναστράπτουσιν, ἣ µὲν ταῖς εὑκταιοτάταις ὑµῖν ἐπαυχοῦσα γοναῖς καὶ τῆς εἰς ἀεὶ διαµονῆς τὰς ἐλπίδας τοῖς σκήπτοις εἰσφέρουσα, ἥ δὲ τοῖς παρθενικοῖς βλαστήµασι συνακµάζουσα καὶ τὰς τῆς εὐκλεεστάτης ὑµῶν βασιλείας σἰκειουµένη φροντίδας.

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The expression of this learning within the court was most likely the reason her candidacy for empress was supported.704 Once she became empress, she acted as patron to a number of literary men as well as becoming a force behind the increase of advanced opportunities for philosophical study at Constantinople.705 Thus, for pagans and tolerant

Christians alike, Eudocia represented an access point into the Imperial court that

Pulcheria had denied them. It is within this context that Eudocia’s first known work, an encomium to her husband following the 421-422 battles, appears.706 This public expression of both marital devotion and superior education can be seen to reinforce

Eudocia’s position, as well as the validity of her supporters, to the detriment of Pulcheria.

However, such efforts failed to remove Pulcheria in any significant way from Imperial authority. Eudocia appears to have faced a significant challenge, then, in how to combat

Pulcheria’s role within the Imperial household.

The composition of several Christian texts seems to have been Eudocia’s solution to create an image of herself as equal in Christian devotion to Pulcheria, as well as to maintain the classical connections that her supporting faction wished to emphasize.

Pulcheria had a powerful religious identity. Her wealth enabled her to fund a number of churches and support many monasteries and charitable funds, as well as to bring relics

704 This view is presented in K. G. Holum, Theodosian Empresses: Women and Imperial Dominion in Late Antiquity, 121. 705 On her patronage of Athens see E. Sironen, “An Honorary Epigram for Empress Eudocia in the Athenian Agora,” The Journal of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens 59:2 (1990), 374; K. G. Holum, Theodosian Empresses: Women and Imperial Dominion in Late Antiquity, 126-127 706 On Eudocia’s writings as a cultural center point see M. D. Usher, Homeric Stitchings: The Homeric Centoes of the Empress Eudocia, 11-15. For further details about her encomium see I. M. Plant, Women Writers of Ancient Greece and Rome, 198-199, and K. G. Holum, Theodosian Empresses: Women and Imperial Dominion in Late Antiquity, 123.

250 into these holy spaces.707 Pulcheria, as a virgin, was also able to make beneficial connections between herself and Mary.708 Eudocia needed to counteract this identity with one of her own if she wished to be seen on any kind of equal footing to Pulcheria. Her pilgrimage to the Holy Land (438-439) was almost certainly in pursuit of this equality.

Despite later, pro-Pulcherian accounts of Eudocia’s pilgrimage as a punishment by

Theodosius for infidelity, the details of her journey seem closer to those of Helena’s earlier pilgrimage. Eudocia embarked upon a very public trip, wherein she visited with holy men and women, founded churches, prayed at holy sites, and visited select eastern cities, all as an empress.709 While on her pilgrimage, Eudocia also made a number of literary contributions. She composed an encomium for the city of Antioch, which she presented to the city, and another poem was dedicated to Gadara.710

While Eudocia returned to Constantinople with a greater authority than before, by

443 she found herself exiled from the city, and returned to Jerusalem for the duration of her life. Pulcheria and her faction had finally succeeding in ousting her from the Imperial court.711 Her move to Jerusalem, however, appears to have imbued her with greater religious attributes than ever previously, and it is during this period that Eudocia wrote

707 E. A. Clark, “Claims on the Bones of St. Stephen: The Partisans of Melania and Eudokia,” Church History 51 (1982), 141-156; L. James, Empresses and Power in Early Byzantium, 152- 156; K. G. Holum, Theodosian Empresses: Women and Imperial Dominion in Late Antiquity, 137. 708 On the power that Pulcheria derived from her virginity see K. Chew, “Virgins and Eunuchs: Pulcheria, Politics and the Death of Emperor Theodosius II,” Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte 55:2 (2006), 207-227. 709 On the political implications of her journey see A. Cameron, “The Empress and the Poet: Paganism and Politics at the Court of Theodosius II,” Yale Classical Studies 27 (1982), 217-291; for an overview of her pilgrimage see K. G. Holum, Theodosian empresses: women and imperial dominion in late antiquity, 188. 710 I. M. Plant, Women Writers of Ancient Greece and Rome, 198. 711 E. A. Clark, “Claims on the Bones of St. Stephen: The Partisans of Melania and Eudokia,” Church History 51 (1982), 141-156; K. G. Holum, Theodosian Empresses: Women and Imperial Dominion in Late Antiquity, 217.

251 and published her cento. Once established in her new home, Eudocia continued with many of the religious duties of an empress. She built churches, shelters for pilgrims, the poor and the elderly and Episcopal residences. She rebuilt the walls of Jerusalem and the church of St. Stephen. She dealt with petitioners, commanded the local military, and ordered the deaths of those who opposed her wishes.712 Eudocia also appears to have developed a circle of male clerics, for whom she acted as a patron. This circle appears to have been particularly interested in literary study, a fact which no doubt encouraged the production of the cento.713 Eudocia’s cento, just like Proba’s, is a public validation of personal religion. For Eudocia, the cento is a means of legitimizing her Christian devotion. Considering the context of its composition, it seems most likely to be a means of identifying her continued political presence in the east, against Pulcheria’s criticisms.

The date of her other major work, The Martyrdom of St. Cyprian, is less certain, but is thought to have been after 443 as well.714

That the composition of at least two of Eudocia’s works occurred after her exile, and that in the same period Eudocia enjoyed significant independent authority does not seem a matter of coincidence. This points to the possibility that expressions of religious devotion could serve not only to increase the prestige of a family, but that they could also imbue the female author with a measure of respect. Even in exile, Eudocia managed to build authority through her religious image. Additionally, Eudocia demonstrates the importance of developing and maintaining this image for the women of the Imperial

712 K. G. Holum, Theodosian Empresses: Women and Imperial Dominion in Late Antiquity, 218. 713 Ibid., 217-220. 714 On the dating of the poem, see B. P. Sowers, Eudocia: The Making of a Homeric Christian, Diss. Cincinnati, 2008, 12. See also E. Livrea, "Eudocianum," in Paideia Cristiana (Rome, 1994), 141-145.

252 household. Therefore, while a somewhat later example, Eudocia’s writings are suggestive of the same type of political and religious motivations that are expressed in Proba’s cento.

Female Teaching in the Cento

In conjunction with the political aspects of the cento, it may be also be possible to identify certain didactic elements of the text. As established above, Proba’s use of the cento genre resulted in a highly public text. As discussed in Chapter Two, the cento, framed in a poetic context, superficially complies with the notions of female literary activity reflecting gender appropriate form.715 However, closer examination of both the genre of cento and the content of the poem suggests a deliberate use by Proba of the conventions of cento in order to transcend gender ideals and to compose a work that was both public and didactic, a work that, moreover, deals with theological and historical themes commonly considered outside the realm of female authors.

Proba’s choice of form is interesting, considering its controversial nature in

Christian circles. Cento appears to have been an object of disdain and mistrust among

Christian theologians and authors. Tertullian (AD 160-240), for example, considers cento nothing more than a form of plagiarism. He suggests that cento is to Virgil what heresy is to Scripture, noting the development of heretical ideas is not difficult to do: “seeing that in profane writing also an example comes ready to hand of a similar facility. You see in present time the tale from Virgil constructed into an entirely different thing, material

715 See Chapter Two, 101-104.

253 shaped to verse and verse shaped to new material.”716 It is the distortion of the original state, in other words, the destruction of a set order of text for purposes over which the original author has no control, that Tertullian points to as a negative quality of cento.

Tertullian finds this alteration of ‘truth’ particularly problematic when the textual reinterpretation is scriptural in nature.717

In essence what seems to be happening in Tertullian is that a parallel is drawn between cento and heresy, where the secular cento is described as having the same relationship to the original text (Virgil or Homer) as heresy has to scripture. This association is also highlighted in Irenaeus’ Adversus Haereses. In his refutation of the

Valentinians, and why they misinterpret scripture, he writes, “Then, again, collecting a set of expressions and names scattered here and there [in Scripture], they twist them, as we have already said, from a natural to a non-natural sense.”718 From here he goes on to say, “In so doing, they act like those who bring forward any kind of hypothesis they fancy, and then endeavour to support them out of the poems of Homer, so that the

716 Tertullian, De Praescriptione Haereticorum, 39.2-3 (PL 2.52-53). Cum de saecularibus quoque scripturis exemplum praesto sit ejusmodi facilitatis. Vides hodie ex Virgilio fabulam in totum aliam componi, material secundum versus et versibus secundum materiam concinnatis. 717 Ibid., 39.5-7. (PL 2.52-53) (trans. T. H. Bindley, On The “Prescription” of Heretics (1914), 89): “Moreover, "Homerocentones" is the common name for those who from the poems of Homer patch together into one piece, quilt-like, works of their own, out of many scraps put together from this passage and that. Unquestionably the Divine writings are more fruitful in affording resources for any kind of subject. Nor do I hesitate to say that the Scriptures themselves were arranged by the will of GOD in such a manner as to afford material for heretics, inasmuch as I read that there must be heresies, which cannot exist without the Scriptures” (Homerocentones etiam uocari solent qui de carminibus Homeri propria opera more centonario ex multis hinc inde compositis in unum sarciunt corpus. Et utique fecundior diuina litteratura ad facultatem cuiuscumque materiae. Nec periclitor dicere, ipsas quoque scripturas sic esse ex Dei uoluntate dispositas, ut haereticis materias subministrarent cum legam oportere haereses esse, quae sine scripturis esse non possunt). 718 Irenaeus, Adversus Haereses, 1.9.4 (PG 7.544) (trans. A. Roberts and W. Rambaut, Ante- Nicene Fathers, vol. 1., ed. A. Roberts, J. Donaldson, and A. Cleveland Coxe (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1885): ῎Επειτα λέξεις καὶ ὀνόµατα σποράδην κείµενα συλλέγοντες, µεταφέρουσι, καθὼς προειρήκαµεν, ἐκ τοῦ κατὰ φύσιν εἰς τὸ παρὰ φύσιν·

254 ignorant imagine that Homer actually composed the verses bearing upon that hypothesis, which has, in fact, been but newly constructed; and many others are led so far by the regularly-formed sequence of the verses, as to doubt whether Homer may not have composed them.”719 Hence, both Tertullian and Irenaeus (AD 130-202) use cento as a means of explaining the dangers of heresies that misinterpret scripture.720

An even more adamant denunciation of cento and the strongest association between cento and heresy comes from Jerome (340-420 AD). In Ep. 53.7 he notes that authors of centos, “do not deign to notice what Prophets and apostles have intended but they adapt conflicting passages to suit their own meaning, as if it were a grand way of teaching— and not rather the faultiest of all— to misrepresent a writer's views and to force the scriptures reluctantly to do their will.”721 Hence it is possible to see within these ecclesiastical authors a tradition both in using and reacting to cento which is profoundly negative. Cento becomes a means through which authors illustrate the dangers of heresy, the dangers of misinterpreting scripture, and is treated, if not heretical in itself, as a willful distortion of true text.

719 Irenaeus, Adversus Haereses, 1.9.4 (PG 7.544) trans. A. Roberts and W. Rambaut): ὅµοια ποιοῦντες τοῖς ὑποθέσεις τὰς τυχούσας αἰτοῖς προβαλλοµένοις, ἔπειτα πειρωµένοις ἐκ τῶν ‘Οµήρου ποιηµάτων µελετᾷν αὐτάς, ὥστε τοὺς ἀπειροτέρους δοκεῖν, ἐπ᾿ ἐκείνης τῆς ἐξ ὑπογυίου µεµελετηµένης ὑποθέσεως ῎Οµηρον τά ἔπη πεποιηκέναι, καὶ πολλοὺς συναρπάζεσθαι διὰ τῆς τῶν ἐπῶν συνθέτου ἀκολουθίας, µὴ ἄρα ταῦθ᾿ οὕτως ῎Οµηρος εἴη πεποιηκώς. The connection between cento and heresy is well treated by R. L. Wilken, “The Homeric Cento in Irenaeus, ‘Adversus Haereses’ I,9,4,” 31-32. 720 On the Christian suspicion towards cento see, most recently, C. O. Sandnes, The Gospel “According to Homer and Virgil”: Cento and Canon, 127-139. 721 Jerome, Ep. 53.7 (PL 22.544) (trans. W.H. Fremantle, G. Lewis and W.G. Martley): Ad sensum suum incongrua aptant testimonia, quasi grande sit et non vitiosissimum docendi genus, depravare sententias, et ad voluntatem suam Scripturam habere re pugnantem. It should be noted that Jerome is referring specifically to Christian cento, whereas Tertullian is not.

255

In light of Christian sentiment towards cento, Proba’s decision to use this form to narrate Christian history is intriguing. Her choice suggests that something in the nature of cento made it seem suitable to her, despite the hostility with which other Christian writers viewed it. One key point that comes out of the criticisms launched at cento is the danger that that a less-educated individual might think that the cento is the actual work of Homer or Virgil and, therefore, believe that the theme developed in the poem is an idea of

Homer or Virgil. Taking this criticism to its logical conclusion, it seems that the central issue Tertullian, Ireneaus and Jerome had with cento was that the ideas in the cento would be validated by the use of one of the great authors in the ancient world. By using

Homer or Virgil the author absorbs some of the authority that Homer and Virgil’s writings carry, regardless of the validity of the new work.

This concern suggests one major reason why Proba might have chosen this literary form. Proving the fears of those who condemn cento justified, Proba may deliberately have chosen cento for the authority she could assume through Virgil. In short, she is doing exactly what people attacked cento for: using the power of these major authors to substantiate her own claims and ideas. Therefore, Proba’s choice to write in cento stands as a deliberate, and rather clever, decision that allows her to imbue her text with the power of Virgil.722

Therefore, her choice of form is dynamic and complex. As a woman she was perhaps prohibited by her gender from participating in literary forms considered didactic.

722 On the recognition that Proba is drawing on Virgil’s authority and recasting his words in a Christian context, see D. V. Meconi, “The Christian Cento and the Evangelization of Christian Culture,” 110, 127; J. Schnapps, “Reading Lessons: Augustine, Proba, and the Christian Detournement of Antiquity,” 112-113.

256

However her choice to write in cento, while nominally reflective of these prohibitions, was clearly motivated by the benefits of cento which allowed her to write public texts in a less overt fashion.723 By using Virgil she found a way to extend her limited personal authority; thus, cento allows a woman to draw on masculine textual authority in order to validate her thoughts. Moreover, as seen with Proba, not only does cento allow access into public literary activity, it provides the means to bypass prohibitions against active teaching by women. Couched within a gender-appropriate genre, this work unhesitatingly identifies itself as didactic in nature.724

The view that this text is authoritative and didactic again raises the purpose of its composition to something beyond a literary exercise. Sivan has suggested that Proba’s cento can be seen as a piece of advertising for her family, as the text serves to mark out the family as being firm in their religious devotions, and thus is on one level a piece of political propaganda.725 While this is certainly probable, extending the argument further raises even more interesting possibilities for textual interpretation. Proba is presenting her interpretations on religious matters, offering to the public a way of understanding the

Bible. Hence the cento, more than being simply propaganda, falls into the realm of

723 On assignation of appropriate genres for gender, and the resulting channeling of women into poetic forms see: E. A. Hemelrijk, Matrona Docta: Educated women in the Roman elite from Cornelia to Julia Domna, 185; J. Snyder, The Woman and the Lyre: Women Writers in Classical Greece and Rome, 152. 724 On this point I follow D. V. Meconi, “The Christian Cento and the Evangelization of Christian Culture,” 123-124: “Faltonia’s [Proba’s] cento can be seen as an ingenious example of this missionary effort of assimilation and demonstration: for the Christian cento shows how the classical poets’ words have always spoken of the one God. In assimilating Virgil in this way, the cento Probae should earn a place alongside other apologetic literature that aims to reveal how non-Christians poets have been, in truth, talking about Jesus Christ. By providing the proper lenses through which to understand such texts, the cento demonstrates how classical authors are Christian protoevangelists when read correctly.” 725H. Sivan, “Anician Women, the Cento of Proba, and Aristocratic Conversion in the Fourth Century,” 154.

257 theological texts.726 Viewing the text in this light, the complexity of its form becomes immediately apparent. Firstly, cento provides Proba with the textual authority to participate in theological discourse. However, beyond this, her choice of form is highly suggestive of her intended audience. In antiquity, Virgil was a point around which

Christians and non-Christians exchanged debate.727 He represented the intellectual heritage common to both pagan and Christian and as such was employed by both sides to advance their ideas and communicate with one another.728 Proba, raised within the classical tradition, has clearly brought this author with her through her conversion to

Christianity and is now using him for Christian purposes. Is the cento then an example of theological interpretation directed towards an audience of similar background as the author? That is to say, does the fusion of classical and Christian themes present in the centos showcase how the Roman elite perceived Christianity in the early fourth century?

If this is the case, then Proba’s use of Virgil reflects not only the appropriation of textual authority, but also her choice to present Biblical themes in a language more accessible to her audience, perhaps making her theological interpretation more appealing.

Christian Testimony and Female Rhetoric: The cases of Perpetua and Egeria

Public expressions of devotion have quite a different manifestation in terms of the texts of Perpetua and Egeria. While Proba’s cento quite readily establishes a didactic element in her text that can be detected by analogy in the works of Perpetua (looking

726 M. D. Usher, Homeric Stitchings: The Homeric Centos of the Empress Eudocia, 86. 727 Consider also Proba’s connection to Lacantius and his use of Virgil. See Chapter One, 69-70. For an excellent survey of the importance of Virgil in early Christian Rome, see C. O. Sandnes, The Gospel “According to Homer and Virgil”: Cento and Canon, 6-11. 728 R. L. Wilken, “The Homeric Cento in Irenaeus, ‘Adversus Haereses’ I,9,4,” 25; J. Danielou, Message Évangélique et Culture Hellénistique aux IIe et IIIe Siècles, 73-101.

258 backwards) and Egeria (looking forwards), these texts demonstrate an additional tradition for female voice within Christianity. This is the existence of female testimony. While

Perpetua’s and Egeria’s texts are temporally and geographically distinct, both works have connections to Christian that allowed/encouraged female testimony, and, as a result, both texts have the potential for a degree of orality in their composition. Testimony, in the sense used here, is the public expression of faith, either through prophecy or simple vocalization. Eusebius records several women who were particularly prominent in this regard. Prisca and Maximilla, both of the Montanist movement, seem to have been active in the presentation of what is termed New Prophecy.729 The later designation of

Montanism as a heresy has resulted in a collection of highly hostile sources that offer only brief comments on these women. However, even couched in criticism it is clear that both Prisca and Maximilla actively spoke to audiences of their visions and prophecies.

Eusebius records the frustrations that bishops faced in attempting to prevent these public displays. A Thracian bishop, Aelius Publius Julius, is recorded as lamenting over the inability of bishop Sotas of Anchialus to drive out Prisca, because she was surrounded by supporters.730 Likewise a certain Apollonius describes the inability of bishops to stop

Maximilla from speaking, because they were “prevented by her partisans.”731 Of the same incident another observer comments that the bishops who were there were silenced

729 For a survey of scholarship surrounding women and New Prophecy, see A. Jensen, God’s Self- Confident Daughters: Early Christianity and the Liberation of Women, 133-134; for New Prophecy more generally, see F. Klawiter, The New Prophecy in Early Christianity: The Origin, Nature, and Development of Montantism, Diss. Chicago, 1975. 730 Eusebius, EH, 5.18.13 (PG 20.480): Καὶ πάλιν φησὶν, ὠς ἄρα Ζωτικὸς οὗ καὶ ὁ πρότερος συγγραφεὺς ὲµνηµόνευσεν, ἐν Πεπούζοις προφητεύιν ἥδη προσποιυµένης τῆς Μαξιµίλλης ἐπιστὰς, διελέγξαι τὸ ἐνεργοῦν ἐν αὐτῇ πνεῦµα πεπείραται, ἑκωλύθη γε µὲν ὑπὸ τῶν τὰ ἐκείνης φρονούντων. Καὶ θρασέα δέ τινος τῶν τότε µαρτύρων µενµονεύει. 731 Ibid., 5.16.13 (PG 20.470): Αὖθις δ᾿ ἐν τῷ αὐτῷ φησι λόγῳ, τοὺς τότε ἵεροὐς ἐπισκόπους πεπειρᾶσθαι µὲν τὸ ἐν τῇ Μαξιµίλλῃ πνεῦµα διελέγξαι, κεκωλύσθαι δὲ πρὸς ἑτὲρων, συνεργούντων δηλαδὴ τῷ πνεύµατι.

259 because their “mouths the followers of Themiso muzzled, refusing to permit the false and seductive spirit to be refuted by them.”732 Heretical complications aside, these women are clearly portrayed as speaking to, and even captivating, audiences.

Similar aspects of public testimony surround Philomena. Philomena is best known as the teacher of Apelles (mid-second century AD), a member of the Marcionite sect, also later labeled a heresy. A contemporary of Apelles, Rhodo, when describing the opposing beliefs of factions within the sect, comments about Philomena. “For Apelles, one of the herd, priding himself on his manner of life and his age, acknowledges one principle, but says that the prophecies are from an opposing spirit, being led to this view by the responses of a maiden by name Philumene, who was possessed by a demon.”733

Philomena is also mentioned numerous times by Tertullian, never in a complimentary fashion, as the teacher of Apelles.734 Other women are even more briefly mentioned in the context of public testimony. Helena, the partner of Simon of Samaria, a quasi- mythological figure, is associated with having a public following. Ammia of Philadelphia apparently gave prophecies. A handful of unnamed women are mentioned in similar

732 Ibid., 5.16.17 (PG 20.472). ῟Ων οἱ περὶ Θεµίσωνα τὰ στόµατα φιµώσαντες, οὐκ εἵσαν τὸ ψευδὲς καὶ λαοπλάνον πνεῦµα ὑπ᾿ αὐτῶν ἐλεγχθῆναι. On the chronology of these events see T. D. Barnes, “The Chronology of Montanism,” The Journal of Theological Studies, n.s., 21 (1970), 403-408. 733 Rhodo, in Eusebius, 5.13.2 (PG 20.460) (trans. A. Cushman McGiffert, Nicene and Post- Nicene Fathers, Second Series, vol. 1., ed. P. Schaff and H. Wace (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1890): ᾿Απὸ γὰρ τῆς τούτων ἀγέλης ᾿Απελλῆς µὲν ὁ τῇ πολιτείᾳ σεµνυνόµενος καὶ τῷ γήρᾳ, µίαν ἀρχὴν ὁµολογεῖ, τὰς δὲ προφητείας ἐξ ἀντικειµένου λέγει πνεύµατος, πειθόµενος ἀποφθέγµασι παρθένο δαιµονώσης, ὅνοµα Φιλουµένης. On Rhodo, Apelles and Philomena see A. Jensen, God’s Self-Confident Daughters: Early Christianity and the Liberation of Women, 195-225. 734 In one instance Tertullian derides Philomena as an “insane whore” (inmane prostibulum) who enmeshed Apelles. Tertullian, De praescriptione haereticorum 30.5-7. See below n. 739. See also A. von Harnack, Marcion: Das Evangelium vom Fremden Gott: Eine Monographie zur Geschichte der Grundlegung der Katholischen Kirche (Leipzig, 1924), 177-178.

260 capacities.735

It is the idea of women engaged in religious rhetoric that is particularly intriguing in relation to two of the extant female-authored texts. The demonstrable orality found within Perpetua and Egeria’s works points to the potential of a connection to this tradition of female Christian testimony. As discussed above, significant evidence suggests the possibility that Perpetua and Egeria’s texts were verbatim reports of speech. Grammatical peculiarities and errors, the simplicity of language, the tendency towards repetitions, digressions, and colloquialisms, as well as the highly conversational style of the texts, all point towards the possibility that these were not edited texts in the fashion of Proba.

This theory receives substantial support not only in an identifiable tradition of female testimony with an audience, but also in the fact that Prisca, Maximilla and

Philomena apparently had portions of their speeches recorded. That these are recorded speeches and not fragments of texts are made clear by their identification as sayings.

Prisca and Maximilla have a number of logoi with which they are credited. Four logoi have been preserved from Maximilla, one by Eusebius who quotes an anonymous source

735 For an overview of these women see A. Jensen, God’s Self-Confident Daughters: Early Christianity and the Liberation of Women, 125-182. Many of these women are mentioned by Jerome as being involved in heresies. Jerome, Ep. 133.4 (PL 22.1153) (trans. W.H. Fremantle, G. Lewis and W.G. Martley): “It was with the help of the harlot Helena that Simon Magus founded his sect. Bands of women accompanied Nicolas of Antioch that deviser of all uncleanness. Marcion sent a woman before him to Rome to prepare men's minds to fall into his snares. Apelles possessed in Philumena an associate in his false doctrines. Montanus, that mouthpiece of an unclean spirit, used two rich and high born ladies Prisca and Maximilla first to bribe and then to pervert many churches” (Simon Magus haeresim condidit, Helenae meretricis adjutus auxilio. Nicolaus Antiochenus omnium immunditiarum repertor, choros duxit femineos. Marcion Romam praemisit mulierem, quae decipiendos sibi animos praepararet. Apelles Philumenem [al. Philomenem] suarum comitem habuit doctrinarum. Montanus immundi spiritus praedicator, multas Ecclesias per Priscam et Maximillam nobiles et opulentas feminas, primum auro corrupit; deinde haeresi polluit). On Helena see also Justin, Apologies 1.26, quoted in Eusebius, HE, 2.13.3-4. On Ammia see Eusebius, HE, 5.17.3.

261 that quotes her, and three by the bishop Epiphanius.736 Terullian quotes two logoi of

Prisca, and Epiphanius quotes one, although he admits uncertainty if it was a saying of

Prisca or of Quintillia.737 The similarity in style between these logoi and that of Perpetua and Egeria is striking. The speeches are personal, experiential and linguistically simplistic. Maximilla’s first logos, for example, states, “ I am driven away from the sheep like a wolf. I am not a wolf; I am word and spirit and power.”738 Likewise, Philomena also had her speeches recorded. Tertullian makes clear that she was a speaker and not a writer. “she [Philomena] later became the insane whore and enmeshed him [Apelles] in her operations, so that he later wrote down the phaneroseis that she conveyed to him.”739

Therefore, there is a clear precedent for women speaking and having their words recorded and publicized within early Christian movements.

The possibility of a connection between Perpetua and the Montanist movement has been a long-standing issue of debate. Proponents of such a connection point to a combination of circumstantial and textual evidence.740 Geographically and temporally,

Perpetua is well situated in the Montanist movement. The tantalizing possibility that

Tertullian is the editor of the work, combined with his known Montanist period is another

736 For the collection of these sayings see W. Schneemelcher, Neutestamentliche Apokryphen, 4th Ed., (1971), 486-487; A. Jensen, God’s Self-Confident Daughters: Early Christianity and the Liberation of Women, 155 737 Epiphanius of Salamis, Pan. 49.1.4. For translations and discussion of the sayings see A. Jensen, God’s Self-Confident Daughters: Early Christianity and the Liberation of Women, 160- 163; for a view that the saying comes from Prisca see K. Aland, “Bemerkungen zum Montanismus und zur Frühchristlichen Eschatologie,” in Kirchengeschichtliche Entwürfe, (Gütersloh, 1960), 122. 738 Eusebius, EH, 5.16.17 (PG 20.469-472) (trans. A. Cushman McGiffert): διώκοµαι ὡς λύκος ἐκ προβάτων· οὐκ εἱµὶ λύκος· ῥῆµ ἀ εἰµι καὶ πνεῦµα καὶ δύναµις. 739 Tertullian, De praescriptione haereticorum 30.5-7 (PL 2.43) (trans. A. Jensen, 198): postea uero inmane prostibulum et ipsam, cuius energemate circumuentus, quas ab ea didicit phaneroseis scripsit. 740 For an overview of this issue see W. Farina, Perpetua of Carthage: Portrait of a Third- Century Martyr (Jefferson: McFarland & Company, 2009), 181-186.

262 link.741 On a textual level, Perpetua’s visions have been interpreted as examples of New

Prophecy, and certainly the respect shown towards her visions by her male companions is similar to the circumstances described surrounding the visions of Prisca and

Maximilla.742 Opponents of identifying Perpetua as a Montanist argue for the lack of any concrete evidence that definitively ties her or her group of Christians to the Montanists.

Tertullian cannot be proven in any sort of absolute terms to be the redactor of her text.743

In addition, there is a tradition of female prophecy within the orthodox church.744 Lastly, the use and endorsement of Perpetua by the Church can certainly be seen as a clear separation of her from the heresy.745

Ultimately for our current purposes, Perpetua’s possible association with

Montanism is more informative for the indications of a North African religious environment that was largely positive or at least accustomed to female religious voice than about her personal theology. The high degree of female involvement in Montanism presumably ensured that the precedent was there in North Africa for the type of religious oral authorship evidenced by Perpetua.

That Perpetua comes from a region with strong Montanist associations forces the question as to Egeria’s origins. This is particularly interesting in light of the fact that

Egeria was a contemporary of Priscillian. There is nothing to suggest that Egeria herself

741 See Chapter One, n.159 for discussion on this. 742 R. D. Butler, The New Prophecy & “New Visions”: Evidence of Montanism in The Passion of Perpetua and Felicitas. Patristic Monograph Series 18 (Washington: The Catholic University of America Press, 2006), 20-21. 743 T. D. Barnes, Tertullian: A Historical and Literary Study (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1985), 55. 744 A. Jensen, God’s Self-Confident Daughters: Early Christianity and the Liberation of Women, 125-133. 745 It should be noted however that the Church may not have known about any Montantist connection, or may have chosen to ignore this element.

263 was a Priscillianist. Both the honors accorded to her by orthodox figures such as the bishops she meets on her pilgrimage, as well as Valerius’ glowing account of her, imply that she was not involved in the heresy. However, textual evidence is suggestive of an awareness of Priscillian’s circle and the western church’s response towards it. Amongst the many charges leveled against Priscillian, improprieties with women came up a number of times; Priscillian’s circle was accused of failing to make appropriate differentiations between men and women, and of meeting and studying together, men and women both.746 This of course led to the idea, or the charge, of sexual relationships between these supposed ascetics, with Priscillian portrayed as a licentious and deviant sexual predator.747 Two of the women associated with him were killed because of these beliefs. Pomponia Urbica, a relative of the poet Ausonius, was stoned to death by a mob in Bordeaux for her support of Priscillian.748 Euchrotia, a wealthy widow who joined the group, was executed alongside Priscillian by Maximus’ orders.749

The concern over mixed-sex ascetic study was addressed by the Council of Saragossa in 380. Of the eight Acta published by the council, two are concerned with women. The eighth judgment deals with the question of women wearing veils, and sets a minimum

746 V. Burrus, The Making of a Heretic: Gender, Authority, and the Priscillianist Controversy, 80, 100. 747 See, for example, Severus, Chron. 2.48, wherein Severus claims that Priscillian impregnated Euchrotia’s daughter Procula and then forced her to have an abortion. 748 On Pomponia Urbica see R.P.H. Green, “Prospographical Notes on the Family and Friends of Ausonius,” Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies 25 (1978), 22; For Ausonius’ reaction to her death see Par. 30.3-6. See also V. Burrus, The Making of a Heretic: Gender, Authority, and the Priscillianist Controversy, 82. 749 Euchrotia’s death is recorded by Severus, Chron. 2.50-51; on her involvement with Priscillian and subsequent execution see V. Burrus, The Making of a Heretic: Gender, Authority, and the Priscillianist Controversy, 97-98.

264 age of forty for the practice.750 More importantly, the first judgment emphasizes that study must take place within same-sex groups.

All women who are of the catholic church and faithful are to be separated from the reading and meeting of strange men, but other [women] are to meet with those [women] who read in pursuit of either teaching or learning, because the Apostle commands this. By all the bishops it was said: Let those who do not observe this judgment of the council be anathema.751

This ruling reveals a number of interesting points about the religious climate in late fourth-century Spain. The council’s concern is clearly not about Christian female teachers or students, but about the interactions between them and ‘strange’ men, implying men outside of their family. However, within the appropriate group, women are clearly expected to be active scholars of Scripture, to meet and discuss religious topics, to read, and to gain a level of understanding that allows them to teach. Ausonius’ poem to Urbica, written after her death, is interesting in this context. In it, he compares Urbica to Tanaquil and Theano.

Strong in inborn virtues and enriched also by those that her spouse, that her father and mother taught– That Tanaquil, that the Pythagorean Theano possessed, and that

750 Acta Conciliorum Saragossarum (ACS) (Concilium Caesaraugustanum), can. 8,11 (PL 84.318) (trans. V. Burrus, 40): “Virgins who have dedicated themselves to God should not be veiled unless of proven age of forty years, which the priest shall confirm. By all the bishops it was said: It is agreed” (Item lectum est: Non velandas esse virgines, quae se Deo voverint, nisi quadraginta annorum probata aetate, quam sacerdos comprobaverit. Ab universis episcopis dictum est: Placet). On these acts see also V. Burrus, "Ascesis, Authority, and Text: The Acts of the Council of Saragossa," Semeia 58 (1992), 95-108. 751 ACS, can. 1,11.24-29 (PL 84.315) (trans. V. Burrus, 33): Ut mulieres omnes Ecclesiae catholicae et fideles a virorum alienorum lectione et coetibus separentur, vel ad ipsas legentes aliae studio vel docendi vel discendi conveniant, quoniam hoc Apostolus jubet. Ab universis episcopis dictum est: Anathema futuros qui hanc concilii sententiam non observaverint.

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perished without copy in the death of her husband.752

Ausonius’ association of Urbica with Theano is informative.753 Pythagorean circles seem to have been comprised of both men and women who studied together, and a number of texts have been credited to women of that philosophical group.754 Ausonius is suggesting a similar environment within Priscillian’s circle, an environment to which the council was clearly opposed.

Egeria’s preparations for her pilgrimage, described by Valerius, are potentially significant in light of this ruling. Valerius suggests that Egeria spent a lengthy period of study before her trip.

Her purpose was to pray and find edification; for the more she had advanced in holy doctrine, the more insatiably her holy longing burned in her heart. First with great industry she perused all the books of the Old and New Testaments, and discovered all its descriptions of the holy wonders of the world; and its regions, provinces, cities, mountains, and deserts. Then in eager haste (though it was to take many years) she set out, with God’s help, to explore them.755

Is this not exactly the studious environment of fourth-century Spain that the council is addressing, an environment common to both the Priscillians and Egeria? Egeria, however, appears to have followed the Acta of the Council of Saragossa, in that in no way are her studies associated with ‘strange’ men. Egeria’s audience is equally in

752 Ausonius, Parentalia, 30.3-6 (trans. V. Burrus, 82): ingenitis pollens virtutibus auctaque et illis,/ quas docuit coniunx, quas pater et genetrix–/ quas habuit Tanaquil, quas Pythagorea Theano/ quaeque sine exemplo in nece functa viri. 753 On the Pythagorean Theano, see Chapter Three, 173. See also I. M. Plant, Women Writers of Ancient Greece and Rome, 68-75; see also H. Thesleff, “An Introduction to the Pythagorean Writings of the Hellenistic Period,” Acta Academiae Aboensis, Humaniora 24.3 (1961), 22-23, 193-195. 754 See Chapter Three, 179. 755 Valerius of Bierzo, Ep. 1. (trans. Wilkinson, 201): For the Latin and for the full quote, see Chapter One, 115-116.

266 keeping with the ruling of the council. Egeria addresses a female-specific group, she shares her experiences with her “dear venerable sisters”, and she only addresses her remarks to them. To what extent this same-sex teaching is a result of the council is difficult to measure. But it seems unlikely that Egeria would have been unaware of the expectations for female study which were set forth at Saragossa, and which were a matter of debate for some time before then.756

Following Priscillian’s execution in 385, debate surrounding female ascetics continued in Spain. Mixed-sex study groups continued to be a matter of concern, culminating in yet another judgment from the Council of Toledo in 397 over their impermissibility.

Likewise, let no maiden of God have intimacy with a confessor or any layman of strange blood or go to a social gathering alone, except where there is a large number of respectable older men or widows, where any confessor can respectably take part with the witness of many. Moreover, the maidens are not to be allowed inside the homes of readers or to be seen with them, unless perhaps she is a sister related by blood or of the same mother.757

In light of this ruling it would be particularly useful to have any indication as to Egeria’s traveling companions. She gives little indication as to the composition of her group, either in their sex, or status, or number. Her group is often augmented by various holy men, monks, priests, deacons and bishops, yet as to her original companions she is silent.

756 On the Council of Toledo and the widespread concerns it was addressing see V. Burrus, The Making of a Heretic: Gender, Authority, and the Priscillianist Controversy, 109-11. 757 Acta Concilii Toletani (ACT) I, can. 6 (PL 84.330) (trans. V. Burrus, 112): Item ne qua puella Dei aut familiaritatem habeat cum confessore aut cum quolibet laico, sive sanguinis alieni, aut convivium sola, nisi ubi sit seniorum frequentia, aut honestorum, aut viduarum honestarumque, ubi honeste confessor quilibet cum plurimorum testimonio convivio interesse possit: cum lectoribus autem in ipsorum domibus non admittendas penitus nec videndas, nisi forte consanguinea soror sit, vel uterina.

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She certainly meets with a number of confessors that were of “strange blood”, but it seems highly probably that all such interactions were held before witnesses. She reports her conversations with these men as occurring with her group as a whole. The bishop of

Arabia comes to meet them at Ramesses,758 the bishop of Segor tells them about the pillar of Lot’s wife,759 and the bishop of Caerneas leads them into a church.760 Curiously, the only interactions that Egeria describes as personal conversations were with bishops she also identified as confessors. Egeria calls both the bishops of Edessa and Carrhae confessors. About the bishop of Edessa she comments that he “had hospitably received me,” that he volunteered to show her the holy sites of the city, that he told her many facts about the sites, and that he gave her copies of the letters of Abgar to the Lord and the

Lord to Abgar.761 About her meeting with the bishop of Carrhae, Egeria says that she first went to meet him, and that after that he agreed to show the group the sites.762

Egeria’s use of the term ‘confessor’ has received considerable attention. Efforts have been made to connect her use of this term to the Arian persecutions under , suggesting that these confessors were survivors of these persecutions.763 The Arian

758 Egeria, Itin. 8.2. On the bishop see also G. E. Gringas, Egeria: Diary of a Pilgrimage, 185. n.13. 759 Egeria, Itin. 12.3. On the see of the bishop of Segor see F. M. Abel, “L’Exploration du Sud-Est de la Vallée du Jourdain,” Revue Biblique 40 (1931), 384. 760 Egeria, Itin. 14.1 761 Egeria, Itin. 19: Nam et ecclesia cum episcopo vere sancto et monacho et confessore habet et martyria aliquanta. Ipsa etiam civitas abundans multitudine hominum est; nam et miles ibi sedet cum tribuno suo. 762 Egeria, Itin. 20: Vidi etiam mox episcopum loci ipsius vere sanctum et hominem Dei, et ipsum et monachum et confessorem, qui mox nobis omnia loca ibi ostendere dignatus est, quae desiderabamus. 763 On her use of the term, see F. Cabrol, Etude sur la Peregrinatio Silviae. Les Églises de Jerusalem, la Discipline et la Liturgie au IV Siècle, (Paris-Poitiers, 1895), 173; A. Bludau, Die Pilgerreise der Aetheria, (Studien zur Geschichte und Kultur des Altertums 15, Paderborn, 1927), 252-5. For additional discussion and bibliography see G. E. Gringas, Egeria: Diary of a Pilgrimage, 204, n.202.

268 connection has also been suggested in terms of identifying these bishops as active opponents of the heresy.764 The notion that the confessors were opponents of heresy is also supported by Meister, who suggests that they were anti-Monophysites.765 The most interesting of these discussions is by Lambert, who identifies confessor as a Hispanic

Latin term designating a monk who is specifically assigned to recite the divine office.766

With this interpretation, Egeria could well have traveled from Spain at a time when more personal interactions with confessors were a common occurrence for female ascetics, a fact that was clearly troubling to the Council of Toledo.

Another ruling from the same council illustrates a final manner in which Egeria can be seen to have been immersed in the religious practices in Spain during the

Priscillian era. This ruling seeks to circumscribe the ability of women to chant antiphonies.

No professed virgin or widow may in the absence of a bishop of presbyter chant antiphonies in her own home with a confessor or her slave; indeed, the evening prayer may not be read except in church– or, if it is read on an estate, let it be read with a bishop or presbyter or deacon present.767

In other words, female ascetics may not participate in liturgical practices without the supervision of a bishop, presbyter or deacon. That the council was concerned about the possibility of this occurring is interesting, considering that Egeria takes especial care to

764 B. Botte, “Confessor,” Archivum Latinitatis Medii Aevi 16 (1942), 137-48. 765 K. Meister, “De Itinerario Aetheriae Abbatissae Perperam Nomini S. Silviae Addicto,” Rheinisches Museum für Philologie n.s 64 (1909), 358. 766 A. Lambert, “L’Itinerarium Egeriae vers 414-416”, Revue Mabillon 28 (1938), 58. 767 ACT I, can. 9 (PL 84.330) (trans. V. Burrus, 113): Nulla professa vel vidua, absente episcopo vel presbytero, in domo sua antiphonas cum confessore vel servo suo faciat: lucernarium vero nisi in ecclesia non legatur, aut si legitur in villa, praesente episcopo, vel presbytero, vel diacono legatur.

269 identify the leading presence of a monk, bishop or priest during the recitation of prayers, and also to dissociate herself from the act of reading scripture to the group. In some locations where there is a church, such as in the area around Sinai, the presence of a priest or bishop is not surprising. However, in other locations that lack a designated presbyter, Egeria maintains the same pattern. She says that on her journey to Mt. Nebo she was accompanied by a priest and several deacons, with whom she stopped to pray at several spots along the way, such as in the field where Moses wrote the Book of

Deuteronomy.768 Likewise, on her trip to from Jerusalem to Carrhae, she is accompanied by a group “of holy men, who were also going there to pray.”769 In the company of these men she stops at such places as a spring St. John the Baptist had used, the cave of Elias the Thesbite, and the valley of Corra, where at each point the group offered prayers.770

As a Spanish ascetic woman, Egeria seems to have been well acquainted with a number of Hispanic debates surrounding women’s position and participation in the church, debates which were particularly prominent surrounding the Priscillianist circles.

In some instances in her text it is possible to detect support and accordance with the orthodox positions that were taken against Priscillian and his group. But she is equally a product of the same intellectual and religious environment which fostered Priscillianism.

Her passion for study, her possession of scriptural training, her interest in sharing her new knowledge with a group, these are all features similar to the women associated with

Priscillian.

768 Egeria, Itin. 10. 769 Egeria, Itin. 13: Itaque ergo profecta sum de Ierusolima cum sanctis, qui tamen dignati sunt itineri meo comitatum praestare, et ipsi tamen gratia orationis. 770 Egeria, Itin. 15-16.

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Interpreting the texts of Perpetua and Egeria as examples of female speech, of oral composition, or as scribal copies of recitations appears even more plausible in light of the demonstrable tradition of female religious speech in both North Africa and Spain during and immediately preceding the times that Perpetua and Egeria were alive. Neither

Perpetua nor Egeria need to be proven participants of the Montanist or Priscillian movements in order to have exhibited their heightened religious participation. Rather, the larger religious environments that were receptive to these groups indicate the possibility for increased receptivity to female speech as a whole.

Reception and Response in the Christian Context

It is apparent, therefore, just how easily the early Christian corpus fits into pre- existing channels of female religious expression and also expectation. It is also apparent that these texts serve as a point of intersection between political and religious spheres of participation for women. As an expression of female devotion the cento acts as a propaganda piece to bolster the prestige of Proba and in turn to document the sanctity/appropriateness of her household. Thus, as Christian texts, the corpus benefits from a tradition of legitimizing female speech within certain topics.

There is, therefore, a strong connection between the Christian nature of the texts and Roman society’s acceptance of them. In this sense, the female-authored texts from

Late Antiquity must be approached as much as a result of factors of reception, as of composition. In this regard, Christianity was instrumental in the perpetuation of these works because it tied into a number of pre-existing opportunities for female voice. As seen above, literate women wrote throughout the Roman period. Also as seen above, elite

271 women had seemingly consistent access to education, and were often involved in studious activities. This did not change in Late Antiquity substantially for the positive or the negative. Women also had a tradition of religious responsibility for their families, and for Rome, prior to the Christian period, as well as a tradition of making religious dedications, and again, significant change does not seem to occur in this regard in Late

Antiquity. What changes in Late Antiquity is the sudden, tangible record of these activities, which were much more occluded in previous periods of Roman history.

What was it within the Christian culture that made textual preservation more possible for these women writers? Several aspects of the texts suggest the potential for positive reception. First and foremost, the ambiguity inherent to the texts can be seen to have successfully mediated the gender of the author. The Christianization of Roman culture initiated a simultaneous creation of new genres of text, which lacked the strictures of older Latin genres. Within these new fields, women seem to have had more positive responses to their works, perhaps because they were not challenging long-defined attitudes of who could write in any given form. In addition, the ambiguity of authorial gender, which is present to varying extents in each text, made their works even less of a confrontation to traditional literary genres. Thus, Christianity initiated the possibility for new, and open, forms for authors, and this certainly had an impact on the reception for female-authored texts.771

771 On the issue of reception in Roman literature see S. M. Goldberg, Constructing Literature in the Roman Republic: Poetry and its Reception (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005); J. Farrell, “Intention and Intertext,” Phoenix 59:1/2 (2005), 98-111; B. Gibson, “Ovid on Reading: Reading Ovid. Reception in Ovid Tristia II,” The Journal of Roman Studies 89 (1999), 19-37.

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Coupled with this are the scriptural and popular examples of female speech that

Christianity provided. While not a new feature in Roman religious life, Christianity allowed for a degree of female prophecy, speech, and didactic that went far beyond the few, carefully controlled examples from earlier Rome. This tradition appears significant particularly in the cases of Perpetua and Egeria, but even on the larger scope, the

Christian precedent for female speech to an audience surely increased the seeming appropriateness of women writing on Christian topics. That women had a responsibility towards the religious and moral display of their families only intensified as new Christian ideals for domestic space developed. Examples of Christian devotion tended to be received very positively by Roman society. The Christianization of literature and the

Christian tradition of female testimony provided a new way for women to meet these obligations, and also for them to legitimize their own authority and value.

The response towards these texts is equally a result of Christian Late Antiquity.

As noted by Jauss, “In contrast to a political event, a literary event has no lasting results which succeeding generations cannot avoid. It can continue to have an effect only if future generations still respond to it or rediscover it – if there are readers who take up the work of the past again or authors who want to imitate, outdo, or refute it.”772 What was the value of these texts to Late Roman society as a whole, and ultimately, what spurred the use and re-use of these texts? Each of these women was the recipient of effusive praise. Augustine wrote no less than three sermons to celebrate Perpetua and Felicitas.

Valerius refers to Egeria’s text as an inspirational testament to God, and for all his fellow monks. Proba’s text becomes the medieval Christian school text for Virgil, and she is one

772 H. R. Jauss, “Literary History as a Challenge to Literary Theory,” 11.

273 of only a few women praised for their writing to be included in Boccaccio’s De mulieribus claris.773 In each of these instances, however, the purpose of the text is defined and then employed by men. While Christianity increased the potential for a positive reception towards the writings of women, it additionally allowed for the perpetuation of these writings as suitable tools for larger Christian purposes.774 On the familial level, Proba is a tool for the political careers of family members. As a school text, Proba is a tool of Christian teachers. As a martyr, Perpetua’s text becomes a tool for

Augustine to bring to his sermons, the author an exemplum to be held up to congregations. Even Egeria’s text is used by Valerius to exhort monks not to be bested by a frail woman in acts of devotion. Therefore, in terms of perpetuation past their initial creation, the texts survive because they serve a purpose within the larger, Christian church.

The dependency of Christian vehicles for their survival is a feature exclusive to the early Christian corpus, although dependency on a secondary carrier is not. Female-

773 Boccaccio, De mulieribus claris, XCVII. The section on Proba is quite long and cannot be quoted here in full. Boccaccio praises her liberal education and her biblical learning, suggests that anyone as intelligent as Proba must have written other works that have not survived, and encourages other women to follow her example and devote themselves to serious study. For a general introduction to De mulieribus claris, and a full list of all the biographies of famous women that the work contains, see V. Brown, Famous Women (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2003), esp. xvii. For additional discussion on Boccaccio and his writings see V. Branca, Boccaccio: The Man and His Works, tr. R. Monges (New York: New York University Press, 1976). 774 That is to say, to some extent these texts were surely kept alive beyond their own generation because early Christianity accepted didactic/testimony from women. Presumably this kept texts alive long enough for a copy to be made that happened to survive. For an introduction to the issues of textual preservation in the Middle Ages, which is a different problem entirely than what has been discussed in this thesis, see L. D. Reynolds, and N. G. Wilson, Scribes and Scholars: A Guide to the Transmission of Greek and Latin Literature (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991), 79- 121. For a good introduction to one of the major monastic copy centers of Medieval Europe, see F. Newton, The Scriptorium and Library at Monte Cassino 1058–1105 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999). For a reiteration of the themes of intention and reception, see above in the Introduction, 7-9.

274 authored Latin texts as a whole tend to be preserved through their use or association with other, usually male, authors. Sulpicia’s poems were preserved in a compilation of the poems of Tibullus, rather than in her own name. Sulpicia II’s fragment was preserved in the poems of Martial. Agrippina’s commentarii survive through its mention by Tacitus and Pliny. Otherwise, only works written in media that were not dependent on being recopied, such as stone, have been preserved. Thus, Christianity, and the continuity of

Christianity, appear to have had a significant role not only in enabling female-writers, but in creating a much more positive reception of their works and in creating a continued use for their texts outside of their immediate composition.

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CONCLUSION

Looking back into Rome from the fourteenth century, Giovanni Boccaccio remarked about Proba:

The more we think the work worthy of being remembered forever, the less can we believe that so intellectually gifted a person would have been satisfied with only this effort. In fact, I think that, if Proba lived for many years, she must have written other praiseworthy works which have not reached us, to our loss, because of scribal laziness.775

And indeed, we might echo a similar sentiment today. The study of Roman women writers is one of lost texts, unknown authors, and missing pieces. That being said, what has survived is provocative. It suggests that there was an active and vital literary culture for Roman women. It suggests that women composed, studied and taught in numerous literary fields, and, it suggests that it would be false to assume that women’s writing were automatically marginalized and disregarded.

The early Christian corpus (Perpetua, Proba, and Egeria) is a strong point of access into the history of Roman women writers. By establishing the context for this corpus, this thesis has demonstrated a larger set of traditions and patterns that existed for

Roman women authors. Assessing the corpus on the basis of authorial education, for example, makes it possible to see how the early Christian texts reflect a much larger tradition of education for Roman elite women rather than a handful of exceptional

775 G. Boccaccio, De Mulieribus Illustribus, XCVII.7 (trans. V. Brown, 203-204): Et quanto magis illud memoratu perpetuo dignum putamus, tanto minus credimus tam celebre mulieris huius huic tantum acquievisse labori; quin imo reor, si in annos ampliores vite protracta est, eam alia insuper condidisse laudabilia, que librariorum desidia, nostro tamen incommodo, ad nos usque devenisse nequivere.

276 instances. Thus, the corpus is suggestive of a much more active literary and intellectual context for Roman women than might be suspected, and, also for a degree of continuity from Republican to Imperial to Christian periods.776 Likewise, contextualizing the early

Christian corpus within larger political parameters, that is to say, exploring the connections between the authors, the texts, and the Roman political world, provides yet another pattern of continuity, in which it is possible to see that elite women had a long history of textual political visibility, even in Republican Rome. Contextualizing the corpus within religious parameters results in a similar pattern. The early Christian corpus, then, stands as the extant example of many long-standing traditions for Roman women and, more importantly, Roman women writers, traditions that often had their precedents in the Republic and had continued into Late Antiquity. Thus, the early Christian corpus is suggestive of a great deal of continuity in terms of the means and methods for Roman women writers.

And yet, the very survival of the early Christian corpus is unusual. Thus, while contextualizing the corpus establishes a firm pattern of continuity, the corpus itself speaks to an element of change or rupture. Therefore, equal time has been devoted in this thesis to aspects of rupture within the texts. For example, assessing the corpus on a textual basis has revealed that each text is suggestive of the development of a new form.

776 In this sense, this thesis has aligned itself more closely with the conclusions of several scholars of Medieval and early Modern women writers, who have argued for precisely the same patterns of education and literary participation, despite a problematic corpus of extant sources. See J. Stevenson, Women Latin Poets: Language, Gender, and Authority, from Antiquity to the Eighteenth Century, 2: “It has been stated at recently as 1993 that there were no more than 300 learned women active during the entire Christian era in Europe up to 1700. This is a significant underestimation: defining ‘learned’ rather strictly as capable of translating from, or writing in, Latin, there is some kind of record of at least 300 in Italy alone in that timespan.” For a survey of women’s education from the 12th to the 17th century see S. Merrim, Early Modern Women’s Writing and Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz (Nashville: Vanderbilt University Press, 1999), 194-203.

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Genres change and are recreated in the works to develop something new and largely unique. For the authors, this change within literary genres seems to be central to a positive response to their work. Change is equally important in creating a receptive framework for female writers in the historical context. Rupture and transformation on the historical level often appear to have provided a means, or even need, for female visibility both in text and as writers of text. Lastly, the rise of Christianity, a significant change, can be seen as a major force within the corpus as it served to initiate the development of new literary genres that were more receptive to female authors due to their novelty, and to transform social norms, creating a moment of transformation where women had increased textual visibility and authority. This interplay between continuity and rupture is key to understanding the presence and the purpose of the early Christian texts. It is equally important in understanding the absence of many other Roman women writers for whom the delicate balance between these important factors was not struck.

Such conclusions have only been possible by approaching Roman women writers in an inclusive fashion. That is to say, by framing this thesis within the larger study of

Roman women’s history, rather than studying the extant authors in isolation, larger patterns have been able to be observed. The seeming scarcity of extant writings by

Roman women has fostered the view that what writings do exist must somehow stand outside of the ability of normal Roman women.777 Such a view is not limited to Roman

777 Similar sentiment, which regards highly educated women in history as extraordinary, can also be found outside of Roman women’s history and indeed seems to be a common assumption well into the modern era, even amongst early feminists. See for example Mary Wollstonecraft, A Vindication of the Rights of Women (London: J. Johnson, 1972), 168-189, who concludes her overview of women’s history: “I shall not lay any stress on the example of a few women who, from having received a masculine education, have acquired courage and resolution…These…may be reckoned exceptions, and are not all heroes as well as heroines exceptional to general rules?”

278 women writers; indeed, Stevenson aptly sums up this isolating tendency for female authors throughout the Middle Ages:

Sulpicia has been little studied by classicists until very recently, because as the only woman poet of the Augustan age, she is hard to situate against her male contemporaries. Hildegard has been much studied, but mostly as an isolated phenomenon…older commentators on any [Medieval female] poet, for example Olimpia Morata, tend to see [such writers] as unique, and therefore hard to discuss.778

Therefore, by deliberately viewing the early Christian corpus within the context of other women’s writings and historical involvement, it is possible both to establish a sense of belonging for Roman women authors as well as to determine the differences and unique features of the individual texts.

A second major consideration of this thesis has been the methods by which female-authored texts negotiated the expectations of Roman public life and female visibility. The idea that women did not write because they were curtailed and excluded from both education and expression is well summed up by Adams Day:

If clean literature is bounded by the lines laid down in antiquity and if clean literary practitioners are men of position, by definition trained in the classics, clean women cannot of course practice literature for the simple reason that they never did, except for the two ancient Greek monsters, Sappho and Corinna.779

778 J. Stevenson, Women Latin Poets: Language, Gender, and Authority, from Antiquity to the Eighteenth Century, 4. This tendency is also pointed out by B. Gold, “Hrotsvitha Writes Herself,” in Sex and Gender in Medieval and Renaissance Texts, ed. K. Gold, P. Allen Miller, and C. Platter (New York: State University of New York, 1997), 43: Hrotsvitha is approached as “a curious and unconnected phenomenon having neither roots nor influence…as we so often do to women of letters.” 779 R. Adams Day, “Muses in the Mud: The Female Wits Anthropologically Considered,” Women’s Studies 7 (1980), 68. Adams Day is following W. J. Ong’s argument that learning Latin was an exclusively masculine activity that separated boys from the female members of the family. See W. J. Ong, “Latin Language Study as a Renaissance Puberty Rite,” Studies in Philology 56 (1959), 103-124.

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In this instance, the early Christian corpus, and its tradition, stands as one of the more accessible examples from the Roman world of actual female voices and challenges the understanding that women did not or could not write. This thesis has used this corpus to develop a new paradigm for female voice that dismisses the public/private dichotomy as a modern construct.780 Discussion of these texts has determined that all are public works with public purposes. In other words, Perpetua is sharing her experience with an audience. Proba is writing to an audience. Egeria is telling a group about her journey.

Additionally, the political and social discourse which has been identified in these texts are equally suggestive of the visible nature of the corpus. Each text has a purpose and intent (didactic and exemplary) beyond being a literary exercise.781

The setting for these texts however, seems to be in opposition to the ‘public’ aspects of the texts, in that the texts occur in various domestic contexts. Perpetua grounds her text upon her family and a small Christian circle. Proba expresses the Christian devotion of herself and her family. Egeria describes her experience to a close group of her ‘sisters’. For these writers, then, the domus (the domestic context) appears to act as a powerful legitimizing force. Just as it was a responsibility for Roman women to show familial religious devotion on a public level, literary texts that displayed a similar sentiment seem to have been able to gain this legitimate voice for Roman women. This is

780 See Introduction, 32. 781 On audience in the early Christian corpus see Chapter Two, 121-131. On Perpetua’s audience, see also W. Ameling, “Femina, Liberaliter Instituta–Some Thoughts on a Martyr’s Liberal Education,” in Perpetua's Passions: Multidisciplinary Approaches to the Passio Perpetuae et Felicitatis, 89; P. McKechnie, “St. Perpetua and Roman education in A.D. 200,” 279. On Egeria’s audience, see also A. Sivan, “Holy Land Pilgrimage and Western Audiences: Some Reflections on Egeria and Her Circle,” 528. On Proba’s audience, see also A. Dykes, Reading Sin in the World: the Hamartigenia of Prudentius and the Vocation of the Responsible Reader (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 34.

280 suggestive, then, that the perceived dichotomy between private life and public life did not in fact exist. The successful (public) reception of a female-authored text was often determined by the domestic focus of a text. That is to say, familiar and emotive subject matters appear to have been appropriate subject matter for female authors. The text, however, remains public. Therefore, the dichotomy for female writers seems to be in regards to the public reception of personal, familial subject matter compared to topics outside of the domus.782

The result of these features is a weird and wonderful corpus of texts that displays the mediation of numerous tensions. The interactions between continuity and rupture, political and religious purpose, and domestic and public voice have shaped the corpus.

This leads to third and final aspect of these texts that has been discussed at length in this thesis, their ambiguity. Each text is cloaked in an obfuscating interplay of masculine and feminine voice, multiple literary genres, and multiple layers of purpose ranging from personal, to familial, to societal. It becomes immensely challenging to define the late antique corpus in any univocal sense. This ambiguity, this liminality, of the texts is perhaps, then, the largest contributor to their perpetuation. Because they sit on the border of so many meanings/voices/purposes they are imbued with multiple interpretations and it is this feature that makes them mutable, and thus sustainable, in way that other female- authored texts were not.

782 Thus, the successful reception of the early Christian corpus seems in part to be due to their choice of topic. On female voice in text, see A. Keith, Engendering Rome: Women in Latin Epic, 35; J. N. Adams, “Female Speech in Latin Comedy,” 43-77. E. Sutherland, “Literary Women in Horace’s Odes 2.11 and 2.12,” in Defining Genre and Gender in Latin Literature, 194-210.

281

And as their words have endured, it seems fitting to conclude with a few of them.

So, loving ladies, light of my heart, this is where I am writing to you. My present plan is, in the name of Christ our God, to travel to Asia, since I want to make a pilgrimage to Ephesus, and the martyrium of the holy and blessed Apostle John. If after that I am still alive, and able to visit further places, I will either tell you about them face to face (if God so wills), or at any rate write to you about them if my plans change. In any case, ladies, light of my heart, whether I am “in the body” of “out of the body”, please do not forget me.783

783 Egeria, It. 23.10 (trans. J. Wilkinson, 142): De quo loco, dominae, lumen meum, cum haec ad vestram affectionem darem, iam propositi erat in nomine Christi Dei nostri ad Asiam accedendi, id est Ephesum, propter martyrium sancti et beati apostoli Iohannis gratia orationis. Si autem et post hoc in corpore fuero, si qua praeterea loca cognoscere potuero, aut ipsa praesens, si Deus fuerit praestare dignatus, vestrae affectioni referam aut certe, si aliud animo sederit, scriptis nuntiabo. Vos tantum, dominae, lumen meum, memores mei esse dignamini, sive in corpore sive iam extra corpus fuero.

282

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APPENDIX A: FURTHER EXAMPLES OF WOMEN’S WORDS

INSCRIPTIONS AND DEDICATIONS

The Colossus of Memnon at Thebes

One of the more interesting examples of writing amongst elite women of the

Imperial Roman world784 is the set of inscriptions at the Colossus of Memnon in Thebes,

Egypt. Here, inscriptions by a number of women who visited the site are preserved. Of particular note are the poems of Caecilia Trebulla and Julia Balbilla. These women, from the very top of the Imperial aristocracy, chose to compose, and inscribe on the statue of

Memnon, poems written in Greek. Julia Balbilla was a member of Hadrian’s retinue when he visited the site in AD 130. Her four brief poems demonstrate both her facility with Greek as well as her studies in myth and history. In the first poem, she records the greeting between the statue of Memnon and Hadrian. This is in relation to a noise the statue apparently made when it was struck by the sun.

Memnon the Egyptian I learnt, when warned by the rays of the sun, Speaks from Theban stone. When he saw Hadrian, the king of all, before rays of the sun He greeted him - as far as he was able. But when the Titan driving through the heavens with his steeds of white Brought into shadow the second measure of hours, Like ringing bronze Memnon again sent out his voice Sharp-toned; he sent out his greeting and for a third time a mighty roar. The Emperor Hadrian then himself bade welcome to

784 The Memnon inscriptions discussed in Appendix A and not in the thesis proper have been placed here because they do not fall within the realm of early Christianity but still deserve some attention as examples of female authorship.

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Memnon and left on stone for generations to come this inscription recounting all that he saw and all that he heard. It was clear to all that the gods love him.785

Following this, she goes on in her second poem to recount the first visit of

Hadrian’s wife, Sabina Augusta, to the statue. She laments that the statue is in such bad shape from vandalism and neglect, and then discusses her own heritage, describing herself as having noble blood.

For my parents were noble, and my grandfathers, The wise Balbillus and Antiochus the king. 786

In the third poem she describes Sabina waiting to hear the sound of Memnon greeting her. In the final poem, she records that she herself heard the statue, and the date

785 Julia Balbilla, Epig. 1 (A. Bernand and É. Bernand, Les Inscriptions Grecques et Latines du Colosse de Memnon, (Cairo: Institut français archaeologie orientale, 1960), No. 28) (trans. I. M. Plant, 152): Ιουλίας Βαλ(β)ίλλης· τε κουσε το Μέμνο(νο)ς Σεβαστς Αδριανός. Μέμνονα πυνθανόμαν Αγύπτιον λίω αγαι/ αθόμενον φώνην Θηβαί(κ)ω πυ λίθω./ Αδρίανον δ σίδων τν παμβασίληα πρν αγας/ ελω χαίρην επέ ()οι ς δύνατον./ Τίταν δ ττ λάων λεύκοισι δι αθερος πποις/ ν σκίαι ράων δεύτερον χε μέτρον,/ ς χάλκοιο τύπεντ[ο]ς η Μέμνων πάλιν αδαν/ ξύτονον· χαίρω[ν κ]α τρίρον χον η./ Κοίρανος Αδρίανο[ς τότ ]λις δ σπάσσατο κατος/ Μέμνονα κν [στάλαι κάλλι[πε]ν ψ[ι]γόνοις γρόππατα σαμαίν[ον]τά τ σ ειδε κσσ σάκουσε./ Δλον πασι δ γε [ν]τ ς ()ε φλισι θέοι. On Julia Balbilla, see, most recently, P. Rosenmeyer, Julia Balbilla (London: Routledge, 2010), and also “Greek Inscriptions in Roman Egypt: Julia Balbilla’s Sapphic Voice,” Classical Antiquity 27.2 (2008), 334-358. See also T. C. Brennan, “The Poets Julia Balbilla and Damo at the Colossus of Memnon,” The Classical World 91.4 (1998), 215-234. 786 Julia Balbilla, Epig. 2 (A. Bernand,and É. Bernand, Les Inscriptions Grecques et Latines du Colosse de Memnon, No. 29) (trans. I. M. Plant, 152): Εσέβεες γρ μοι γένεται πάπποι τ γένοντο,/ Βλβιλλός τ σόφος κ Αντίοχος βασίελευς. She was from an eastern dynasty that was absorbed into the Roman empire. See A. Bernard and E. Bernard, Les Inscriptions Grecques et Latines du Colosse de Memnon, 92.

321 that she was there, the twenty-fifth day of the month of Hathyr (November 20/21).787

It is possible that Caecila Trebulla was also on the same tour with Julia Balbilla and Hadrian. The poems of the two women are inscribed very closely together on the statue. Caecila Trebulla composed three poems.788 The first poem is a brief prayer to her mother, the second reflects on how the statue might make its sound, and the third is a touching lament on the poor state of the statue.

I, Caecila Trebulla, Wrote after hearing Memnon here. Cambyses smashed me, this stone, Made as a likeness of an Eastern king. My voice of old was a lament, groaning For Memnon’s suffering, which Cambyses stole. Today I cry sounds inarticulate and unintelligible Remains of my former fate.789

The casual facility with Greek displayed by these women is a telling feature of the nature of the educations they received. Both indicate an awareness, not only of the Greek language, but also of Greek poetical conventions and historical references, and they even show a little literary wit. In addition to this, Julia Balbilla uses an obscure Aeolian dialect

787 Julia Balbilla, Epig. 3. For further discussion of the poems, see E. A. Hemelrijk, Matrona Docta: Educated women in the Roman Elite from Cornelia to Julia Domna, 164-170 and I. M. Plant, Women Writers in Ancient Greece and Rome, 153. 788 See A. Bernand and É. Bernand, Les Inscriptions Grecques et Latines du Colosse de Memnon, No. 92, 93, 94. 789 Caecila Trebulla, Epig. 3 (A. Bernand and É. Bernand, Les Inscriptions Grecques et Latines du Colosse de Memnon, No. 94) (trans. I. M. Plant, 149): Καικιλία Τρεβολλα/ γραψα κούσασα τοδε Μέμνονος./ Εθραυσε Καμβύσης με τόνδε τν λίθον/ βασιλέος ου εκόνα κμεμαγμένον./ Θων δ δυρμς ν πάλαι μοι, Μέμνονος/ τ πάθη γοσα, ν φελε Καμβύσης./ Αναρθρα δ[] νν κα σαφ τ φθέγγματα/ λοφύρομ[α]ι, τς πρόσθε λείψανον τύχης.

322 that incorporates archaic terms used solely for poetry.790 Sabina herself also inscribed some words on the statue, also in Greek, although not a poem.791 From these inscriptions one is left very much with the impression of a group of elite women on holiday in Egypt, a group that takes advantage of the tradition of writing on the statue in order to show off their literary skills and education as much to show that they can as for any other reason.792 Therefore, one statue in Egypt is a remarkable source of evidence for the education of elite women both from Rome and from the empire more broadly.

Female Dedicators on Household Tombs at Rome

The poetic inscriptions above find their counterpart in the large group of unknown women who participated in other types of inscription– namely, funerary inscriptions. A brief look into this source of female writing is highly suggestive that this is a rich avenue for future study into the larger question of female voice in the Roman world. The data used for this initial study was a collection of 2367 epitaphs drawn from CIL 6. The

790 J. Balmer, Classical Women Poets (Newcastle: Bloodaxe Books, 1996), 108; M.L. West, “Balbilla did not save Memnon’s soul.” Zeitschrift fur Papyrologie und Epigraphik 25 (1977), 120. 791 A. Bernand and É. Bernand, Les Inscriptions Grecques et Latines du Colosse de Memnon, No. 32: “Sabina Augusta, wife of the emperor Caesar Hadrian, in the course of the first hour heard Memnon two times…” ([Σα]βενα Σεβαστ/ [Ατ]οκράτρος Καίσαρος/ [Αδρια]νο, ντς ώρας/ [α? Μέμνονο]ς δς κουσε/ ------\ ΗC). 792 Two other women also wrote inscriptions on the statue. Julia Saturnina wrote her name in Greek (A. Bernand and É. Bernand, Les Inscriptions Grecques et Latines du Colosse de Memnon, No. 65): “An act of adoration by Julia Saturnina” (Προσκύνημα Ιουλίας / Σατουρνίνης). Funisulana Vettula has a Latin inscription (A. Bernand and É. Bernand, Les Inscriptions Grecques et Latines du Colosse de Memnon, No. 8): “I, Funisulana Vettula, wife of Caius Tettius Africanus, prefect of Egypt, have heard Memnon, on the day before the Ides of February, at the first and a half hour, in the first year of the emperor Augustus Domitian, when I came for the third time. (Funisulana Vettulla/ C[aii] Tetti[i] Africani praef[ecti] Aeg[ypti]/ uxor audi Memnonem/ pr[idie] Id[us] Frebr[uarias] hora [prima et dimidia]/ anno I Imp[eratoris] Domitiani Aug[usti]/ cum iam tertio venissem). See also I. M. Plant, Women Writers in Ancient Greece and Rome, 245-246.

323 epitaphs were selected on the basis of being household tomb inscriptions. Hence, 2367 represents the total number of inscriptions which included the phrase libertis libertabusque, the standard identifier of household tombs.793 I chose household tombs in particular due to the public nature of the inscriptions that were placed on the outside of the tomb or burial site, and were meant to be read by the general public, at least in theory.794 The choice to draw exclusively from CIL 6 came in part as a means of keeping the project to a manageable size and in part because the city of Rome itself is the geographical situation for most literary sources on women and public life, therefore, allowing for direct comparison to the epigraphical material.

Having identified the specific epitaphs to be used in this study I constructed a database along the following lines: the gender of the dedicator(s) of the inscription was the initial and primary categorization. The terms used were woman, man, woman and man, man and woman, women, and men. If no dedicator could be identified the inscription was marked as dedicator unknown and withdrawn from the sample. Being classified as unknown stemmed either from preservation issues with the inscription itself or from an inability to differentiate the dedicator from the commemorated.795 Having classified the dedicator(s) in terms of gender, the dedicator(s) were then sorted by social

793 J. Bodel, “From Columbaria to Catacombs: Collective Burial in Pagan and Christian Rome,” in Commemorating the Dead: Texts and Artifacts in Context, ed. L. Brink and D. Green (Berlin, Walter de Gruyter, 2008), 214. 794 M. Koortbojian, “In Comemorationem Mortuorum: Text and Image along the ‘Street of Tombs’,” in Art and Text in Roman Culture, ed. J. Elsner (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 210-211. 795 See, for example, CIL 6.5360 in which no names have been preserved: i / …biti fil/ …sibi et / …ri fil Fir…rissimae / … fratribus / …is libertabus / … eorum. CIL 6.8457 in which only the name of the commemorated has survived: / fecit sibi et / L Paccio Hermeti lib / monetario et libertis / libertabusq posterisq eorum / eumq… monIment lib concedi iubeo. CIL 6.22480 in which no dedicator is named: D M / M Mettio Evi… / heredes feceru… / lib libertabu…

324 status. Here the categories were freeborn, freed, slave, and free at the time of inscription but unclear if this status was original or gained. Then noted was if the dedicator laid claim to a job. Whether or not the inscription included the word sibi was also noted.

After this initial sorting, the epitaphs with an unknown dedicator totaled 539, leaving a working sample of 1828 inscriptions. These 1828 inscriptions were each sorted according to information about the commemorated: what sex they were, what their relationships were to the dedicator, what epithets were associated with them, how old they were, what their status was, and if they had jobs. Also noted were the size, cost and features of the tomb itself, if they were given. Below is an example of how each epitaph was processed, with information being entered into each applicable field.

Upon the completion of the data entry it was possible to calculate the percentage of dedicators according to their gender. The dominance of male dedicators within the

325 sample cannot be disputed. 53% of the inscriptions (957) are dedicated exclusively by men, compared to 24% dedicated exclusively by women (447). Likewise, within the collection of inscriptions where the dedicators are both male and female, comprising 23% of the total inscriptions (424), male dedicators are listed before female dedicators 83% of the time (358), resulting in female dedicators being listed first in only 17% of the inscriptions (66).

Dedicator Number of Inscriptions Percentage of Total (Out of 1828) Inscriptions Man 890 49% Man/Men and 358 19% Woman/Women Men 67 4% Woman 426 23% Woman/Woman and 66 4% Man/Men Women 21 1%

Therefore, in the final analysis, males occur as dedicators in 76% of all the inscriptions, while females appear as dedicators in 48% of all the inscriptions, leading to a ratio of 1.6 male dedicators for every female dedicator. However, considering that the idealized public role for Roman women was silence and passivity, the number of inscriptions where women are either the primary or participatory dedicator is shockingly high. 28% of the inscriptions (514), almost a full third of the total, have a female dedicator occupying the dominant position in the inscription, and 48% of all the inscriptions (827), almost half of the total, contain women among the dedicators. Thus, half of all these inscriptions from household tombs, public presentations for a public audience, messages intended to be noticed and identified, were set up with a female participant.

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Gender of Dedicator Percentage of Inscriptions Exclusively Male 53% Exclusively Female 24% Combined Males and Females 23%

Combined Males and Females Percentage out of 23% of Total Males Listed First 83% Females Listed First 17%

A closer examination of the group of individual female dedicators reveals a number of interesting trends. The status of the female dedicators breaks down as follows.

Out of the 427 inscriptions 70% of the inscriptions (298) are dedicated by free women who neither claim freeborn or freed status and so are noted as simply being free. 17% of the inscriptions (75) were made by women of freed status. 9% of the inscriptions (38) were made by women who explicitly identify themselves as freeborn. 3% of the inscriptions (11) were dedicated by women of unknown status and 1% of the inscriptions

(5) were dedicated by slave women.

Status of Female Number of Inscriptions Percentage of Dedicator (Out of 427) Inscriptions (Based on 427 inscriptions) Free Woman 298 70% Freed Woman 75 17% Freeborn Woman 38 9% Unknown Status 11 3% Slave Woman 5 1%

In terms of the commemorated, this group of women dedicators reflects a diverse set of relationships in whom they present as the primary person being commemorated.

While, unsurprisingly, spouses make up the largest group of commemorated at 43%

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(186), this is still less than what might be expected. 57% of household tomb epitaphs set up by women commemorate people other than their husbands primarily. The second largest groups of commemorated are sons, at 11% (45), and the women themselves (sibi), as 11% of the inscriptions (48) commemorate only the female dedicator. Patrons make up the next largest group at 7% (31), followed by daughters and unknown at 6% (24 and 26), mothers and father, each at 3% and verna at 2%. Alumna, patrona, liberta, libertus, mama, friend, parents, guardians, co-freed, nepoti, slave and tata are also present with each representing 1% or less of the total percentage of inscriptions.

Primary % Out of 426 Number of Inscriptions Commemorated inscriptions Spouse 43% 186 Sibi Only 11% 48 Son 11% 46 Patron 7% 31 Unknown 6% 26 Daughter 6% 24 Mother 3% 14 Father 3% 11 Verna 2% 7 Brother 1% 5 Patrona 1% 5 Co-freed 0.9% 4 Nepoti 0.9% 4 Sister 0.7% 3 Alumna 0.7% 3 Libertus 0.5% 2 Friend 0.5% 2 Mama 0.2% 1 Parents 0.2% 1 Guardian 0.2% 1 Slave 0.2% 1 Tata 0.2% 1 Liberta 0.2% 1

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The breakdown of the commemorated is particularly interesting as it demonstrates women were commemorating people outside of their immediate familial group. This suggests that women did not feel compelled to always moderate their public voice through the medium of a domestic role.796 Women commemorated themselves, their families, their friends, and their extended network of relations without apology or justification.

The diversity present in the relationships to the commemorated is also reflected in the range of tomb sizes. Out of the 426 inscriptions where women stand as sole dedicators, 69 of them contain information about the size of the tomb. Ranging from 2x2

(20845) to 74x93 (38585) the tombs clearly reflect a wide range of social and financial strata. One of the most interesting trends that emerge from this data is the predominance of smaller tomb sizes. Only 12% of the tombs are larger than 20x20, and although it can most likely be assumed that the tombs with walls, huts or tabernae can be counted within this group, which would raise the percentage to 22%, the total still remains small. In contrast, fully 10% of the tombs are 5x5 or smaller, and 68% percent of the tombs are

15x15 or less. This suggests that the majority of inscriptions set up for household tombs by women were for very small households, and by extension, most likely reflect women not of elite status.

796 This method of participation is suggested by D’Ambra as being the only means women could use to function in Roman public life. E. D’Ambra Roman Women, 142.

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Measurements of Tomb Percentage out of 69 Number of Tombs/CIL Tombs # >5x5 10% 7/ 16046, 20465, 20845, 23040, 27538, 35595, 35608 6x6-10x10 22% 15/ 2331, 12739, 16363, 17527, 20203, 20992, 21112, 22561, 23688, 24323, 24689, 25502, 27529, 33427, 37613 11x11-15x15 36% 25/ 2651, 7788, 8676, 8734, 10476, 13286, 13377, 13498, 13621, 14001, 15087, 15843, 16155, 20622, 20718, 22072, 22137, 23255, 25692, 25798, 26800, 28119, 28674, 28878 16x16-20x20 9% 6/ 15405, 18349, 24029, 25542, 27388, 29564 21x211-25x25 4% 3/ 7787, 13386, 15053 26x26-30x30 4% 3/ 11824, 21849, 23334 <30x30 4% 3/ 8930, 14823, 38585 Has walls/taberna/hut 10% 7/ 14936, 15640, 20498, but no measurements 26727, 28375, 34321, 36364

Therefore, the analysis of household tomb inscriptions from Rome reveals a number of significant facts. Women played a major role in the dedication of household tombs and can clearly be seen as active participants in the public presentation of these epitaphs. Almost one third of all the household tomb inscriptions were set up by women, either alone, as a group, or with their name listed first before men; when inscriptions are

330 taken into account where women are named as dedicators but are listed after men, the total rises to nearly half the sample. Closer study of the inscriptions dedicated by one woman only, a group of 426 epitaphs, shows that the women dedicating these inscriptions were predominantly of free status, but tended not to indicate if they were freed or freeborn. Also shown was the relationship the dedicator held to the primary person being commemorated in the inscription. Analysis reveals that the women commemorate a vast number of relationships with their spouse being listed first among the commemorated in less than half the epitaphs. This fact is particularly significant as it suggests that women did not need the justification of a spousal relationship to bring themselves into the public sphere. In fact, while family members make up the majority of the commemorated, over

30% of the inscriptions do not have an immediate relation as the first listed of the commemorated. Women were publicly announcing their relationships to people outside their immediate, “appropriate” kin group.797

Lastly, analysis of the 69 inscriptions that provide information about the tomb itself demonstrates significant social diversity among the female dedicators, with sizes of tombs ranging from 4 square feet to 6088 square feet. Women from all socio-economic classes were dedicating the epitaphs on household tombs. When tomb size was organized according to five foot measurements, it was shown that the majority of these tombs, 68% percent, were 15x15 or smaller, suggesting that the bulk of female dedicators were not elite women but came from the middle or even lower classes of Roman society. Thus,

797 The diversity of female relationships echoes the arguments of H. Sigismund Nielsen, “The Physical Context of Roman Epitaphs and the Structure of ‘the Roman family,” Analecta Romana Instituti Danici 23 (1996), 35-60.

331 epigraphical evidence shows women from a range of social classes playing a major role in the dedication of household tomb inscriptions.

This is highly suggestive that funerary inscriptions can offer another avenue of approach into future studies of Roman women writers and female voice in Rome.

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APPENDIX B: SPEAKING WOMEN IN THE ROMAN WORLD

Below is an alphabetized list of the major women who appear in this thesis. Alongside their identification are the key primary sources for each woman and the page numbers, in brackets, where they are discussed in the thesis.

Ageruchia: Correspondent of Jerome. Jerome, Ep. 123. (240).

Agrippina the Younger: Author of a commentarius. Tacitus, Ann. 4.53; Pliny, Nat. Hist. 7.8. (24, 43, 177, 199, 206, 211).

Algasia: Correspondent of Jerome. Jerome, Ep. 121. (241).

Aemilia (wife of Publius Scipio): Politician. Polybius, 31.26.3-5. (190-191, 232).

Attica: Educated daughter of Cicero’s friend T. Pomponius Atticus. Suet. Gramm. 16. (138, 147).

Caecilia Trebulla: Author of an epigram (in Greek). Inscr. Eph. 1062 G. (52, 318-321).

Calpurnia: The studious wife of Pliny the Younger. Pliny Ep. 4.19. (135, 147, 175).

Claudia Severa: Correspondent of Sulpicia Lepidina. Vindolanda ep. 291-294. (57).

Claudia (c. 246 BC): Politician. Livy, 24.16.19. (189).

Cleopatra: Author of Cosmetics. Galen 12.403-5, 12.492-493, 13. 432-34. (35, 40, 44).

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Cleopatra: Author of The Chyrsopoeia (40).

Constantia: Author of a funerary poem to her husband. CLE 1, no. 660. (50-51, 87).

Cornelia (mother of the Gracchi): Literary and political patron, potential epistographical author. Quintilian Inst. Orat. 1.1.6. (18, 56, 148-149, 156, 176, 183, 191-193, 198-199).

Cornelia Galla: Author of a funerary poem to her husband. CLE 2.1, no. 480. (50-51).

Cornelia (wife of Pompey): Noted for her education. Plutarch, Life of Pompey, 55. (144).

Cornelia (c. 331 BC): Politician. Livy 8.18, 10.31. (186).

Cornificia: Poet. Jerome, Chronicon, 42 BC. (44, 101).

Demetrias: Devoted to Christian Study. Pelagius, Letter to Demetrias; Jerome, Ep. 130. (126-127, 171-172, 241-242).

Domitia Longina: Literary Patron of Flavius Josephus. Jos. Vita 429. (177-78).

Egeria: Author of an Itinerarium. (2-4, 6-7, 9, 18, 33, 57, 73-82, 84, 87, 90, 95, 104-108, 113-115, 120-124, 130, 157-169, 170-171, 180, 184, 209, 211-228, 257, 260-262, 265-270, 272-273, 275, 279).

Euchrotia: Studied scripture with Priscillian. Severus, Chron. 2.48. (173, 263).

Eudocia: Author of numerous Christian poems and a Cento (in Greek). (3, 83-84, 86-87, 113, 128, 151-152, 180, 211, 247-251).

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Eustochium: Correspondent of Jerome. Jerome, Ep. 46. (56, 220, 239).

Fabulla: Author of a medical text. Galen, 13.250. (34, 39).

Fulvia (the wife of Mark Antony): Politician. Cicero, Phil. 2.95, 5.11; Att. 14.21.1; Appian, BC, 4.32-34. (197-198).

Fulvia (the mistress of a member of the Catilinarian conspiracy): Politician. Appian, BC, 2.3; Plut. Cic. 16.2; Sallust, Cat. 23.3-4, 26.3, 28.2. (195).

Furia: Correspondent of Jerome. Jerome, Ep. 54. (239-240).

Hedibia: Correspondent of Jerome. Jerome, Ep. 101. (241).

Helena: Christian patron and activist. Eusebius, Vita Const. 3.44, 3.47.3; Paulinus of Nola, Ep. 31.4. (209, 211, 221, 228, 234-238, 246, 250).

Helvia: Studied with her son Seneca. Sen. De Consolatione ad Helviam, 17.3-4 (137, 149).

Hortensia: Orator. Appian, BC 4.32-34 (183, 196-197).

Hypatia: Author and teacher of philosophy. Socrates Scholasticus, Church History, 7.15. (84-85, 87, 152, 179-180).

Juliana: Correspondent of Jerome. Jerome, Ep. 150. (241-242).

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Julia Balbilla: Poet (52, 178, 318-321).

Julia Domna: Correspondent, literary patron and politician. Inscr. Eph. 212; Philostratus, VA, 1.3. (19, 55-56, 178-179, 203-204, 206-207, 211, 228).

Julia Maesa: Politician. Herodian, 5.7.1. (204-206).

Julia Mamaea: Politician. Dio, 80. Fragment. (205-206).

Julia Saturnina: Author of an inscription (in Greek). (321).

Laeta: Correspondent of Jerome. Teacher of her daughter Paula. Jerome, Ep. 107.4. (155-156).

Livia: Politician. Suetonius, Div. Aug. 73. (199, 229).

Macrina: Educated by her mother. Gregory of Nyssa, The Life of Macrina. (155-156).

Marcella: Correspondent of Jerome. Jerome, Ep. 23-29. (56, 160, 239).

Maria: Author of an alchemical text: Zosimus of Panopolis, 3:172-73. (34, 41, 44).

Maria: Educated in classical literature by her mother Serena. Claudian, Epithalamium of Honorius and Maria, 229-235. (149-150).

Matidia the Younger: Literary patron. Fronto, Ad. Marc. Caes. 2.16, 2.17. (178).

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Maximilla: Orator. Eusebius, HE, 5.16.1-17, 5.18.3. (173, 210, 258-259, 260-261).

Metrodora: Author of On the female suffering of the mother. (49, 87).

Mother of Macrina: Teacher. Gregory of Nyssa, The Life of Macrina. (154-155).

Octavia: Literary and political patron. Vetruvius, De. Arch. pref. 2-3. (176-177, 210, 229).

Pamphila: Author of Historical Commentaries. Photius, 175. (34, 41-44, 87).

Paula: Correspondent of Jerome. Jerome, Ep. 33, 39. (56, 172, 220, 239).

Paula (daughter of Laeta): Educated in the new Christian tradition by her mother. Jerome, Ep. 107.4. (155-156).

Perpetua: Author of a portion of the Passions of St. Perpetua and Felicitas. (2-4, 6-7, 9, 26-27, 30, 33, 57-62, 84, 86-87, 89-90, 95-98, 108-113, 117-119, 124-126, 130, 152, 169-170, 180, 207, 211, 228, 232, 257, 260-262, 270, 272-273, 274, 279).

Perilla: Poet. Ovid, Tristia, 3.7. (87, 101-102).

Philomena: Orator and teacher. Rhodo, in Eusebius, HE, 5.13.2; Tertullian, Adversus Marcionem, 3.11.2. (173-174, 259-260).

Plotina Augusta: Correspondent of the Epicurean school at Athens. ILS 7784, IG II2 1099. (55-56, 178, 200-203).

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Pomponia Urbica: Studied scripture under Priscillian. Ausonius Par. 30.3-6. (173, 263).

Praecia: Political patron. Plut. Luc. 6.2-4. (196).

Prisca: Orator. Eusebius, 5.16.3; Epiphianus, Pan. 49.1.4. (173, 258, 260-261).

Proba (Faltonia Betitia): Author of a Cento. (2-4, 6-7, 9, 18, 22-24, 27-30, 33, 57, 62-73, 83-84, 86-87, 89-90, 95, 98-104, 108, 112- 113, 120, 126-128, 130, 151-152, 171, 173, 180, 209, 211, 228, 241-247, 251-257, 260, 270, 272-273, 275, 279).

Proba (Anicia Faltonia): Correspondent of Jerome. Jerome, Ep. 130. (63, 66, 71-73, 241-242, 246-247).

Pulcheria: Politician. (84, 211, 247-251).

Pupil of Nichomachus of Gerusa: A female student of the philosopher. Nichomachus, Enchiridion Harmonicon. (140-141).

Sabina Augusta: Wrote an inscription to her husband at the Colossus of Memnon. (178, 319-320).

Salvina: Correspondent of Jerome Jerome, Ep. 70 (240).

Sempronia: Poet. Sallust, Conspiracy of Catiline, 25. (45, 141-142, 195).

Sempronia (daughter of Cornelia): Orator. Valerius Maximus, 3.8.6. (194).

Serena: Teacher Claudian, Epithalamium of Honorius and Maria, 229-235. (149-150).

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Sergia (c. 331 BC): Politician. Livy 8.18, 10.31. (186).

Servilia: Politician and patron. (196).

Sulpicia: Poet. Tibullus 3.13-18. (18, 48, 87, 92-94, 89, 101, 116, 174-175, 198-199, 211, 274).

Sulpicia II: Poet. Ausonius Cento 139.5-6. (48, 87, 102).

Sulpicia Lepidina: Correspondent of Claudia Severa, Vindolanda ep. 291-294. (57).

Taurina: Author of a funerary poem to her aunts. CLE 1, no. 748. (51).

Terentia: Correspondent (and wife) of Cicero and politician. Cicero, Ep. 14.4 (LXI). (55, 195).

Terentia: Author of funerary poem to her brother Decimus Terentius Gentianus. CLE 1, no. 270. (49-50).

Theodora: Correspondent of Jerome. Jerome, Ep. 75, 76. (221, 240-241).

Theophila: Poet. Martial, 7.69. (45, 87).

Ulpia Severina: Politician. Aurelius Victor, Aurelian, 10 (208).

Verginia (c. 295 BC): Politician. Livy, 10.23.1. (187-188).

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Wife of Pompeius Saturninus: Noted for her epistolary talents. Pliny, Ep. 1.16.6. (136).

Zenobia of Palmyra: Politician and author of a history of the east. HA, thirty tyrants, 30.22. (46, 87, 208).