GINES TAYLOR - Late Antique Images of The Virgin Annunciate Spinning - 2018

Late Antique Images of the Virgin Annunciate Spinning
Texts and Studies

in Eastern Christianity
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Late Antique Images
of the Virgin Annunciate
Spinning
Allotting the Scarlet and the Purple
By
Catherine Gines Taylor
leiden | boston
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Contents
Acknowledgements ix
List of Figures xi
Introduction. Preceding the Ascetic Type: Earliest Images of the Virgin

Annunciate Spinning 1
1 The Protevangelium of James: A Contemporary Apocryphum 3
2 Methodological Considerations 8
3 Patristic Considerations 9
1 The Roots and Precedents: Lanam Fecit 14

1 Catacombs of Priscilla, Cubiculum p—the First Annunciation 17
1.1 Ancient Goddesses from Eastern Mesopotamia and Egypt 25
1.2 Greek and Roman Goddesses 27
2 Spinning and Roman Public Display: Minerva and Domitian’s Forum
Transitorium 33
3 Spinning in Legend 39
3.1 Helen of Troy 40
3.2 Penelope 42
3.3 Arete 43
3.4 Lucretia 43
4 Spinning Iconography amongst Elites and Non-elites in Roman
Society 46
4.1 Livia Drusilla, an Elite Model 46
4.2 Spinning in Non-elite Practice: Spinning, Marriage, and Roman
Continuity 47
5 The Attributes of Virtue: Spinning in Proverbs and the Jewish
Tradition 53
6 Conclusions 58
2 The Maiden 61
1 The Domestic Cult of Mary: Imitatio Mariae and Spinning a Sacred
Conversation 61
2 Mary the Maiden 62
3 Annunciation Iconography and the Domestic Cult of Mary 65
4 Maiden’s Tools: Sacred, Profane, Mundane 70
5 The Maiden Imaged as the Ascetic 73
6 Marian Devotion as Counter-ascetic 81
vi contents
7 Proclus and the Constantinopolitan Tradition of Imitatio Mariae 90

7.1 Proclus and the Empress Pulcheria 93
8 Imitatio Mariae and the Syriac Tradition of the Domestic
Annunciation 96
9 Conclusions: Work as a Sacred Conversation and a Life Pleasing to
God 100
3 The Matron 102

1 Marriage Art and Marriage Rings 104
2 The Annunciation as Privileged Iconography: Ring Descriptions 106
3 The Fifth-Century Legal Context and Family Life 113
4 The Paraphernalia of Married Fertility and Early Church
Councils 116
5 Children, “An Inheritance of the Lord” 124
6 Conclusions 128
4 The Household 130

1 Women in Purple: Privileged Patronage 132
1.1 helena mater 133
1.2 Aelia Flavia Flaccilla 135
1.3 Galla Placidia 135
1.4 Eudoxia 136
1.5 Pulcheria 136
1.6 Athenais Eudocia 137
1.7 Anicia Juliana 137
2 Women in Linen and Wool: Domestic Piety and Patronage 138
3 Late Antique Textiles and the Domestic Sphere 155
4 Textile Patronage in Panopolis 162
5 The Abegg-Stiftung Mary Silk 164
6 A Linen Burial Cloth from the Victoria and Albert Museum 169
7 Later Comparative Textiles 172
8 Burial Garments and the Threshold of Death 178
9 Conclusions 180
5 Memorial 182
1 Comparisons from the Grave: Other Roman Catacombs 184
2 The Pignatta Sarcophagus 188
2.1 The Sarcophagus in Detail 192
3 Patristics in Ravenna 201
4 Attitudes toward Death and Salvation 202
contents vii
5 Phrygian Tombstones 205

6 Conclusions 210
Conclusion. The Virgin Annunciate Spinning: A Matronly Model, “In

Whom All Opposites are Reconciled” 212
1 Santa Maria Maggiore 213
2 Final Thoughts 217
Bibliography 221
Index 235
Acknowledgements
My fascination with the iconography of the Virgin Annunciate spinning was

born in the Harold B. Lee Library at Brigham Young University. I found myself,
amongst the stacks, reading André Grabar’s tomes on early Christian iconogra-
phy, coupled with everything I could find on late ancient images of the Virgin
Mary. Those early inquiries amplified and guided my PhD studies, and have
now become this book, a revised version of my doctoral dissertation.
My deepest gratitude goes to Dr. Emma Loosley at The University of Manch-
ester for her fostering patience, generosity, and inspiring academic aptitude
during my PhD studies. My PhD advisory panel at Manchester oversaw these
inquiries, and I am indebted to Prof. Roger Ling as an invaluable resource of vast
art historical knowledge, inquisitive reviews, and masterful editing. I am most
thankful to Dr. David O’Connor and Dr. Kate Cooper for their specific insights,
scholarship, and personal encouragement. Profs. Liz James and Gale Owen-
Crocker were invaluable examiners who helped me untangle the threads of the
past and weave them together in new and meaningful ways. Early in my stud-
ies I was privileged to have several enlightening conversations with John Peter
Wild on textiles, cloth production techniques and artifacts. I am also grateful
to the careful guidance of Dr. Mark J. Johnson at byu for first fostering the love
of early Christian and Byzantine art and architecture.
I have a number of colleagues that have consistently supported and assisted
with these endeavors. Dr. Kristian Heal and Dr. Carl Griffin from the Neal
A. Maxwell Institute have graciously read and edited much of this work. They
have offered valuable insights and advice, for which I am enduringly grateful.
Any errors or oversights are entirely my own. It was a great honor to receive
a postdoctoral fellowship from the Maxwell Institute, which provided me with
the funding necessary for many image permissions and the photographs repro-
duced here. My research assistant, Rachel Huntsman, spear-headed image
acquisition and was a wonderful conversation partner in the final stages of
the manuscript preparation. Gracious scholars such as Susan Ashbrook Harvey,
Jamie Wood, and Leena Mari Peltomaa have also been kind and encouraging as
this project has progressed, and have provided invaluable scholarly networking.
The life of the mind is a rare and precious thing, and I am indebted to those who
have shared their work with me.
I also wish to thank the staff and curators at the many libraries, museums,
and institutions that aided in my research. In particular, I would like to men-
tion those affiliated with the British Museum, the Victoria and Albert Museum,
the Coptic textile division at the Louvre Museum, the nuns at the Catacombs
x acknowledgements
of Priscilla in Rome, the Pontifical Commission for Sacred Archaeology, Dum-

barton Oaks Library, John Rylands University Library, and the inter-library loan
department at the Harold B. Lee Library. Additionally, it has been a pleasure
to explore the collections at the Ashmolean Museum, the Musée National du
Moyen Age, and the Cabinet des Médailles for iconographic source material.
Many friends also deserve my thanks for reading sections of this thesis and
for believing that this endeavor was something special. Suzanne Christensen
and Heather Hardy deserve acknowledgement and high praise for their careful
reading and suggestions with regard to organization. I recognize the patient
kindness of friends who have listened to my thoughts and theories, and who
have cared for my family while I have frequently traveled for research.
Most deservedly, my gratitude, love, and admiration go to my dear family.
You have been my true north throughout my studies and academic career.
For my children particularly, know that you can achieve anything with faith,
honesty, hard work, and a righteous goal. Absque Virtute Nihil
List of Figures
1 Annunciation, Cubiculum p, Priscilla Catacombs, Rome, second century ad.

© pcas 18
2 Annunciation details, Priscilla Catacombs, Rome, second century ad.
© pcas 19
3 Annunciation details, Priscilla Catacombs, Rome, second century ad.
© pcas 19
4 Sarcophagus lid with relief panels, Capitoline Museum, Rome, mid-second
century ad. Courtesy of Roma, Musei Capitolini. 23
5 Sarcophagus lid with relief panels, three fates detail, Capitoline Museum,
Rome, mid-second century ad. Courtesy of Roma, Musei Capitolini. 24
6 Tombstone for Regina, British Museum, London, second century ad. © The
Trustees of the British Museum. 25
7 Child’s sarcophagus, Vatican Museum, Rome, second century ad 29
8 First bath of Achilles, Villa of Theseus, Nea Paphos, Cyprus, fifth century or
earlier. Permission to publish granted by the Department of Antiquities,
Cyprus. 32
9 Minerva, Forum Transitorium, Rome, late-first century ad 34
10 Minerva instructing women in the arts of spinning and weaving, Forum
Transitorium, Rome, late-first century ad 35
11 Genre scene with women spinning and weaving, Forum Transitorium, Rome,
late-first century ad 36
12 Corbridge Lanx, British Museum, London, fourth or fifth century ad © The
Trustees of the British Museum. 38
13 Funerary portrait bust, Tamma, British Museum, London, second century ad. ©
The Trustees of the British Museum. 53
14 Annunciation, bas-relief fragment, fig wood, Paris, Louvre, fifth century ad 68
15 Berlin ivory pyxis, Staatliche Museum, Berlin, fifth or sixth century ad.
Courtesy of Skulpturensammlung und Museum für Byzantinische Kunst,
Staatliche Museen zu Berlin. Photography by Antje Voigt. 71
16 Gold Annunciation ring, London, British Museum, fifth–sixth century ad. ©
The Trustees of the British Museum. 107
17 Peter and Theodote ring, Dumbarton Oaks, Washington dc, fifth–sixth century
ad. © Dumbarton Oaks, Byzantine Collection, Washington, dc. 108
18 Gold ring, “bauge en or,” Cabinet des Médailles, Paris, fifth–seventh century ad.
Courtesy of Bibliothèque Nationale de France. 110
19 Gold pendant, Assuit Collection, Altes Museum, Berlin, fifth–seventh century
ad. Courtesy of Skulpturensammlung und Museum für Byzantinische Kunst,
Staatliche Museen zu Berlin. Photography by Antje Voigt. 119
xii list of figures
20 Annunciation pendant, Israel Antiquities Authority, Jerusalem, fifth or sixth

century ad. Courtesy of Israel Antiquities Authority. Photography by Meidad
Suchowolski. 121
21 Annunciation pilgrim token from Edfu, Egypt (front), British Museum, London,
fourth or fifth century ad. © The Trustees of the British Museum. 143
22 Annunciation pilgrim token from Edfu, Egypt (back), British Museum, London,
fourth or fifth century ad. © The Trustees of the British Museum. 144
23 Pilgrim ampulla, provenance unknown, Israel Antiquities Authority, Jerusalem,
fifth or sixth century ad. Courtesy of Israel Antiquities Authority. Photography
by Meidad Suchowolski. 145
24 Annunciation glyptic, Sardonyx, The State Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg,
sixth century ad. © The State Hermitage Museum. Photography by Svetlana
Suetova. 152
25 Annunciation glyptic, Sardonyx, The State Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg,
sixth century ad. © The State Hermitage Museum. Photography by Svetlana
Suetova. 153
26 Mary silk, Abegg-Stiftung Collection, Switzerland, fourth century ad. © Abegg-
Stiftung, ch-3132 Riggisberg, 1988. Photography by Christoph von
Viràg. 160
27 Mary silk, schematic drawing, Abegg-Stiftung Collection, Switzerland. ©
Abegg-Stiftung, ch-3132 Riggisberg. Drawing by Barbara Matuella. 161
28 Mary silk, schematic drawing, Mary before the High Priest detail, Abegg-
Stiftung Collection, Switzerland. © Abegg-Stiftung, ch-3132 Riggisberg. Drawing
by Barbara Matuella. 165
29 Mary silk, reclining nude with Dionysus detail, Abegg-Stiftung Collection,
Switzerland, fourth century ad. © Abegg-Stiftung, ch-3132 Riggisberg. Drawing
by Barbara Matuella. 166
30 Annunciation linen fragment, Victoria and Albert Museum, London, fifth
century ad. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London. 169
31 Silk and wool tapestry bands, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, fifth or
sixth century ad. © The Metropolitan Museum of Art. 173
32 Annunciation & visitation roundel, Victoria and Albert Museum, London,
fifth–sixth century ad. © Victoria and Albert Museum. 174
33 Annunciation silk, Vatican Museum, Rome, sixth–eighth century ad. Image
courtesy of Scala / Art Resource, ny. 175
34 Annunciation, Domitilla catacomb, Rome 185
35 Adoration of the Magi, Domitilla catacomb, Rome 185
36 The Pignatta Sarcophagus, Ravenna, fourth century ad 189
37 The Pignatta Sarcophagus, Annunciation, Ravenna, fourth century ad 190
38 The Pignatta Sarcophagus, Noli Me Tangere, Ravenna, fourth century ad 191
list of figures xiii
39 The Pignatta Sarcophagus, back corner, Ravenna, fourth century ad 192

40 Twelve Apostles Sarcophagus, Sant’ Apollinare in Classe, Ravenna, fifth century
ad 193
41 Adoration of the Magi, Isaac Sarcophagus, San Vitale, Ravenna, fifth century
ad 193
42 Pignatta Sarcophagus, front detail, Ravenna, fourth century ad 194
43 Pignatta Sarcophagus, rear detail, Ravenna, fourth century ad 195
44 Pignatta Sarcophagus Annunciation, right-side detail, Ravenna, fourth century
ad 196
45 Pignatta Sarcophagus, Noli Me Tangere, left-side detail, Ravenna, fourth century
ad 197
46 Funerary relief of Philista, Ashmolean Museum, Oxford, second century bc. ©
Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford. ANMichaelis. 209
47 Annunciation mosaic detail, Santa Maria Maggiore, Rome, 432–440ad 216
introduction
Preceding the Ascetic Type: Earliest Images of the

Virgin Annunciate Spinning
For late antique Christians, Mary personified Christian matronage in accor-

dance with the full semantic breadth of Hebrew ḥayil or virtue, meaning “a
force, whether of men, means or other resources,” that included able activity,
valour or courage, commensurate goods and wealth, strength, might, and the
power of valiantly trained hosts loyal to God.1 This Hebrew term is relevant here
because, as Sebastian Brock and Susan Harvey have rightly noted, “Christian-
ity emerged out of Jewish Communities … with a powerful spirituality born of
the Semitic tradition.”2 Virtue encompassed much more in its meaning than
mere chastity. The term embodied valiant courage in the face of adversity as
well as bold excellence, industriousness, and material abundance. No other
symbol from the late ancient world could equal the spindle and distaff in illus-
trating the capable attributes of virtue in images of the Mother of God, and no
other symbol was as easily accessible within the quotidian routine and mate-
rial culture of late antique Christian women. By imitating Mary whose task
reflected their own, these early female believers recognized their own behav-
iors as distinctly powerful and valorous in sustaining Christianity within family
life. Only under the growing influence of monastic asceticism and the codified
rules established by the Church Councils of the fifth and sixth centuries did
Mary’s virginal chastity come to narrowly define her virtue and describe holi-
ness for Christian women; a definition that was nearly impossible to emulate
and which undermined the sanctity of familial relationships.3
1 James Strong, A Concise Dictionary of the Words in the Hebrew Bible (Madison, nj: James
Strong, 1890), 39. I am referencing Proverbs 31:10 and the translation of virtue according to
the kjv. Other translations of ḥayil include: wife of noble character, capable wife, excellent
woman, valiant woman, worthy woman or noted by strength of character. For the fullest
definition and usage, cf. Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament, eds. Botterweck and
Ringgren, vol. iv (Grand Rapids, mi: Eerdmans Pub. Co., 1978), 348–355.
2 Sebastian Brock and Susan Ashbrook Harvey, Holy Women of the Syrian Orient (Los Angeles;
Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998), 6.
3 As early as the mid-fourth century, the Council of Gangra (ad 343) convened in Paphlagonia
(Asia Minor) to stop the heretical ascetic practices that were creeping into the Church
© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2018 | doi: 10.1163/9789004362703_002

2 introduction
The iconographic origins of the Virgin Annunciate spinning are consistent

with the idealized Roman matron type as opposed to the inaccessible, semi-
divine Theotokos type. God-bearer was a title that elevated Mary beyond lay
accessibility and became central to the rhetorical codification of Orthodoxy
by the fifth century. Scholars have argued that the Virgin of the pre-iconoclast
era was characterised solely as theological proof of biology and honoured
only for the attributes that she contributed to her Son, and that the post-
iconoclast Virgin was revered for her emotive resonances as an empathetic, yet
divine mother.4 I respectfully disagree with this assessment. While the most
recent discussions of the spinning Annunciate are placed within the theolog-
ical context of the exclusive virginal type,5 the exempla from late antiquity do
not favour these same motifs as those historically associated with the ascetic
denial of female sexuality or the subversion of traditional family structures.
A close reading of proofs and evidences, including the earliest Annunciation
scenes, reveals an iconography that privileges the virtuous matron type over
the ascetic virgin6 as the female paragon of Christian piety and legitimacy. I
through the teachings of Eustathius of Sebaste and other founders of the ascetic movement.
The findings of this council were mere bumps before the greater seismic shift wrought by
ascetic practice in the years that followed. Canons from the council included:
i. If anyone shall condemn marriage or abominate and condemn a woman who is a
believer and devout and sleeps with her own husband, as though she could not enter
the Kingdom of heaven, let him be anathema.
x. If any one of those who are living a virgin life for the Lord’s sake shall treat arrogantly
the married, let him be anathema.
xiv. If any woman shall forsake her husband, and resolve to depart from him because she
abhors marriage, let her be anathema.
xv. If anyone shall forsake his own children and shall not nurture them …, under pretence
of asceticism, let him be anathema.
Cf. npnf2 14, 92–99.
4 Henry Maguire, “Body, Clothing, Metaphor: The Virgin in Early Byzantine Art,” in The Cult
of the Mother of God in Byzantium, eds. Leslie Brubaker and Mary Cunningham (Aldershot:
Ashgate, 2011), 39–52.
5 Maria Evangelatou, “The Purple Thread of the Flesh,” in Icon and Word, eds. Anthony East-
mond and Liz James (Aldershot: Ashgate Publishing Limited, 2003), 261–280. Cf. Henry
Maguire, “The Self-Conscious Angel: Character Study in Byzantine Paintings of the Annunci-
ation,” Harvard Ukranian Studies 7 (1983): 377–391.
6 Averil Cameron states that the “impulse towards asceticism … is generally put at the end
of the third century” and that Mary was a model for that virginity. Averil Cameron, “The
Early Cult of the Virgin,” in Mother of God: Representations of the Virgin in Byzantine Art,
ed. Maria Vassilaki (Milan: Skira, 2000), 7. Cf. Peter Brown, The Body and Society: Men,
Women and Sexual Renunciation in Early Christianity (New York: Columbia University Press,
preceding the ascetic type 3
suggest the later title, Mother of God, was officially adopted by the Church long
after lay sentiment, tradition, and ritual celebrated the power and maternity of
Mary.
1 The Protevangelium of James: A Contemporary Apocryphum
The rhetorical force of the narrative found in the Annunciation story is deeply
tied to symbolism associated with traditional female roles common to the late
ancient Roman world. Persistent symbolism found in both text and image is
precisely the place to look for the essential realia of early Christian women’s
lives that have been, perhaps, considered too mundane or commonplace for
modern scholarly attention. It is essential to contribute a more comprehensive
and restorative view of early Christian piety that included and commemorated
the faithfulness and importance of the Christian matron.
The story of Mary’s material and spiritual life was of primary interest to the
newest of Christians as marked by the popularity of apocryphal writings that
focus on such details. Scholarly evaluation of the apocryphal Protevangelium
of James and its Annunciation account has been meagre in comparison with
that of other early Christian apocrypha. It has been largely limited to a discus-
sion of the narrative account, its authenticity, and its support and relevance
for the theological debates that developed in the early Church.7 The earliest
extant copy of The Protevangelium of James, attributed to James the Less, is
Papyrus Bodmer v usually dated to the middle of the second century.8 The
Protevangelium borrows from both Christian and Jewish iconography as well
as folkloric precedents, and underscores the presence of a Marian cult by at
least the same date.9 In addition to the Marian infancy narrative, it provides a
detailed description of Mary accepting the task of spinning the scarlet and the
purple thread as one of the pure temple virgins, receiving Gabriel, and then
1988); Elizabeth A. Clark, Reading Renunciation: Asceticism and Scripture in Early Christianity
(Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1999).
7 Cf. Emile de Strycker, La Forme la plus Ancienne du Protévangile de Jacques (Brussels: Société
des Bollandistes, 1961); Hans-Josef Klauck, Apocryphal Gospels: An Introduction (London: T&T
Clark Ltd., 2003).
8 Strycker, Forme, front matter.
9 David R. Cartlidge and J.K. Elliott, Art and the Christian Apocrypha (London: Routledge, 2001),
21–45. Cf. Klauck, Apocryphal Gospels, 64–72.
4 introduction
conceiving as she diligently took up the royal purple for the veil of the temple
as the angel enters her house and addresses her again:
x. 1–2 Now there was a council of priests, who resolved: “Let us make a veil
for the temple of the Lord.” And the priest said: “Call unto me pure virgins
of the tribe of David” … Then they brought them into the temple of the
Lord, and the priest said: “Cast me lots, which of you shall weave the gold
and the amiant (the white) and the fine linen, the silk, and the hyacinth-
blue, the scarlet and the true purple.” And to Mary fell the lot of the “pure
purple” and the “scarlet.” And she took them and went unto her house …
But Mary took the scarlet and spun it.
xi. 1–2 And she took the pitcher and went forth to draw water: and behold,
a voice said: Hail, thou art highly favoured; the Lord is with thee: blessed art
thou among women. And she looked around on the right and on the left
to see whence this voice came: And trembling she went to her house and
put down the pitcher, and took the purple and sat down upon her seat
and drew out (the thread). 2. And behold an angel of the Lord (suddenly)
stood before her saying: Fear not, Mary, for thou hast found grace before
the Lord of all things, and thou shalt conceive of his word.10
Theologically, this passage has received little scholarly attention; however, the
antiquity of the Protevangelium and its specific details are insightful when
we consider the evidences of piety that existed outside regulated religious
practice. Lay devotion and material culture surrounding the Marian cult reflect
a famliarity with the iconography of the Virgin Annunciate spinning. As we
examine and explain this motif within the art of the fourth and fifth centuries,
it is important to keep the second-century perspective in mind. It becomes
increasingly clear that later theological arguments, which eventually defined
and codified the religious practice of orthodoxy, were informed by the earliest
lay interest in the Virgin.
The scarlet and purple in the title of this work does not designate it as a study
in colour, but rather holds a place for discussion of the symbolic metaphor
of spinning within the birth, life, and death of early Christian women. Wool-
working was common and ordinary and women were familiar with it from a
10 Protevangelium of James, 10:1–2, 11:1–2, in New Testament Apocrypha, vol. 1, ed. R. McL. Wil-
son (Cambridge: James Clarke & Co; Louisville, ky: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1991),
430–431.
young age. Considering that young women were eligible to marry when they
had been properly trained to manage a household, and that many young wives
were married between the ages of fourteen and eighteen,11 they were likely
proficient in spinning and weaving by their early teens. The scarlet and the
purple were Mary’s allotment to spin for the veil of the temple and were
likewise associated with Christ’s Incarnation and royal Davidic lineage. The use
of spinning iconography in depicting Mary during late antiquity demonstrated
that the role of the virtuous matron, in its seeming mundaneness, was an
allotted and holy path that Christian women embraced. The domestic contexts
for images of the Virgin Annunciate, the link between spinning and female
virtue, and the quotidian details of the objects discussed here, all indicate
that Christain women were participating, on some level, in underscoring the
legitimacy and capacity of Christianity itself.
The objects considered here date to and include the fifth and sixth centuries.
Apart from the arch mosaics at Santa Maria Maggiore, they are chiefly small
objects that were presumably privately owned and, especially in the case of
textiles, usually domestically produced. The unique details found on these
earliest images show an artistic tendency toward individualized and localized
iconography specific to a pre-codified presentation of this subject matter. The
major centres of artistic production were established by the fifth century and
continued into the sixth century with some spreading dissemination. The
clusters of patronage for the objects examined and read here are generally
identifiable as Rome and Ravenna, Constantinople, Syria and Palestine, and
Egypt, with other minor clusters of provenance in Western Europe. Although
the Roman, Greek, Syriac, and Coptic traditions all address Marian devotion,
they became fundamentally divided in their interpretations as demonstrated
by the schisms at the end of the fifth century. What is consistent, however,
is that as late as ad400, the influence of Classical iconographic motifs had
been disseminated throughout the shrinking, but still united, Empire. Our
focus is to read primarily small scale, personal objects featuring scenes of the
Annunciation where Mary spins the scarlet and purple for the veil of the temple
with a spindle and distaff, often accompanied by a wool basket. What we
will find is that early Christian women used their domestic experience with
spinning to construct a personal Mariological devotion within the parameters
11 Brent D. Shaw, “The Age of Roman Girls at Marriage: Some Reconsiderations,” jrs 77
(1987): 43–44. Cf. Strabo, Geography, trans. Horace Leonard Jones, Loeb Classical Library
(Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1928), 10.4.20, and Tacitus, “A Dialogue on Oratory,”
28, for preparatory admonitions for young girls as managers of the household.
6 introduction
of family life. The symbolic function of Annunciate iconography establishes

the importance of the objects themselves in documenting the evolving artistic
sources of Annunciation iconography. The ordinary and personal nature of
several objects featured here still indicate a sense of art historical continuity
with the pagan and Jewish past, pervading both elite and lay piety.
Women who commissioned, purchased, viewed, and owned these objects
understood the well-known symbolism of spinning iconography. Under the
auspices of the Christian household, women who imitated the Annunciate by
spinning were not only assuming the guise of industrious matronage, but in fact
demonstrated their household piety in a public way. The longevity of this model
is underscored by the commissions of Theodosian women, whose show of
public Christian female virtue was neither limited to the confines of the home,
nor to the term of their mortal lives.12 Associations with spinning had deep
eschatological significance for women who considered and wrestled with the
relationship between the earthly household and the heavenly household. This
relationship played out in the holy act of pilgrimage with its accompanying
objects and blessed souvenirs as well as in the rites of death and memorialising
objects chosen by or for deceased family members.
The archetypal meaning of the spindle and distaff was consistently under-
stood in many parts of the Roman Empire by many types of women. Partici-
pation in imitatio Mariae in both pragmatic and devotional ways was deeply
rooted in the iconographic weight of that archetype. Although quotidian in
nature, the spindle and distaff were symbolically exemplary, especially because
the mother of Jesus is found at this specific task in the very moment that she
becomes his mother. Early non-precious and precious artifacts provide evi-
dence that the image of Mary spinning was disseminated to varying types of
households. Likewise, to imitate the virtuous behaviour of Mary was not lim-
ited to women from elite social or religious positions. The metaphorical and lit-
eral contexts for this imagery argue for both contemplative and active exegesis
on behalf of imperial women in purple, aristocratic women in linen, common
or ordinary women in wool, and poor, mourning, or dying women in sackcloth.
The motif of matronly spinning was essential to female identity through-
out the ancient world well before the advent of Christianity. Early Christians
engaged with the motif and assimilated it as a familiar trope in images of the
Virgin Annunciate. Christians “took note of their cultural inheritance, granted
12 Carolyn L. Connor, Women of Byzantium (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2004), 46–
50; Liz James, Empresses and Power in Early Byzantium (London; New York: Leicester
University Press, 2001), 15.
it deliberate attention,”13 and developed an iconography that did not privi-

lege the austerity of celibate asceticism, but rather embraced marriage and
house-holding activities in alignment with spiritual power. Extant images of
the Annunciate spinning, like those found on the dyed and embroidered tex-
tiles from Coptic Egypt or finely tooled gold and copper amuletic pendants
from Greece and Syria, all speak to the intimate nature of Marian images and
the power of the domestic context in association with the Virgin. Household
devotion was both publicly visual and privately efficacious, and I suggest that
it was also strategic in developing the Mariological tradition, later codified into
formal liturgical veneration. The implications of associating the task of spin-
ning with the Virgin Annunciate relate above all to the identity construction
of early Christian women, an identity that magnified the role of married and
marriageable women and mothers; an identity that allowed women access to
holiness and spiritual abundance through domestic familial relationships and
the imitation of the household of God.
Each of the following chapters focuses on the iconography of the Virgin
Annunciate spinning from the perspective of late ancient women at various
stages in a traditional life cycle.14 This iconography, from its chronological
birth, ironically in the Roman catacombs, to its full and useful life in personal
adornment and ordinary household objects, to its literal burial with a deceased
patron, was relevant in the many phases of Christian women’s lives. By closely
reading the objects themselves and placing them within their cultural context,
the persuasive arts of iconography and the purposeful ends of the object con-
flate in a unique interpretation of early Christian reception. Marian imagery
celebrated far more than ascetic virginity or the denigrated wife bound to
domestic servitude. By focusing on the image’s popularity amongst a variety
of patrons, a positive construct is revealed in which women could view them-
selves and their piety in powerful, impactful ways.
13 Susan Ashbrook Harvey, Scenting Salvation: Ancient Christianity and the Olfactory Imagi-
nation (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2007), 3.
14 The scope and organization of this study are indebted to the formalist studies of André
Grabar. In my initial examinations of his Early Christian Art (New York: Odyssey Press,
1968), and Christian Iconography: A Study of Its Origins (Princeton: Princeton University
Press, 1981), I came across many early Christian sarcophagi featuring chronological scenes
from the life of the deceased, sometimes including the figures of the Three Fates spinning
out life. Thus, the pattern of a female life cycle occurred to me as the logical layout for this
argument.
8 introduction
2 Methodological Considerations
Trends in art historical methodologies over the past thirty years have tended to
adopt the post-modern, post-structuralist approaches used in the Humanities,
English, and Social Sciences. These approaches resulted in a “New Art History”
that combines aspects of cultural, social, and economic studies. While these
aspects are fundamentally important in fleshing out the scope and context
of art objects, under this approach it has not been advantageous to ignore
traditional Panofskian iconographic examinations. In her recent monograph,
Mati Meyer has suggested that “these new interpretational methods … include
a greater concern with questions such as function, patronage, and audience,”
and diminished the “quest for prototypes” in favour of discussing works of art
within their cultural milieu.15 While artistic context is inextricably important
to the discussion of realia,16 iconographic and artistic precedent are equally
essential to understanding the nuance of specific art objects over time. It is
necessary to keep the undercurrent of cultural and social aspects balanced,
while renewing an interest in the purpose and possibilities that iconographic
studies can yield.
Scholars have investigated the late antique iconography of the Virgin Annun-
ciate according to theological and cursory art historical exegesis.17 Yet the
objects that bear this specific imagery have not been considered as examples
of iconographic realia which describe the many anonymous lives of ordinary
women and the material culture that surrounded them.18 Iconic evidence of
realia in art often favours the historical processes and context of art over the
15 Mati Meyer, An Obscure Portrait: Imaging Women’s Reality in Byzantine Art (London: The
Pindar Press, 2009), 3.
16 Realia is used here to mean objects used to relate signified meaning to real life.
17 Henry Maguire, “The Self-Conscious Angel,” Harvard Ukrainian Studies 7 (1983): 377–392.
Maria Evangelatou, “The Purple Thread of the Flesh: The Theological Connotations of
a Narrative Iconographic Element in Byzantine Images of the Annunciation,” in Icon
and Word, eds. Antony Eastmond and Liz James (Aldershot: Ashgate Publishing Limited,
2003), 261–280.
18 There is a plentitude of art historical scholarship that has emerged focusing on realia as
a feature of art and archaeology. Cf. Henry Maguire, Eunice Dauterman Maguire with
Maggie Flowers, Art and Holy Powers in the Early Christian House (Urbana and Chicago:
University of Illinois Press, 1989); Ioli Kalavrezou, Byzantine Women and their World (New
Haven: Yale University Press, 2003); Maria G. Parani, Reconstructing the Reality of Images:
Byzantine Material Culture and Religious Iconography (11th–15th Centuries) (Leiden: Brill,
2003); Lynda Garland, ed., Byzantine Women: Varieties of Experience 800–1200 (Aldershot:
Ashgate, 2006).
physical manner and iconographic content replicated by men and women who
lived the context.19 If we ignore the objects themselves and the images that
they bear, we risk missing essential primary source material,20 which in turn,
informs the patterns of historical processes. The constancy of symbolic pat-
terns and meaning are maintained through the centuries precisely as a reflec-
tion of a paradigmatic truth or vision, demonstrated in the material world, no
matter how anonymous or insignificant it may seem.
Christian imagery relied heavily, if not entirely, upon the visual language
and metaphorical resonances of the Roman world between the second and
fifth centuries.21 The patterns of Greco-Roman imagery were borrowed, as their
motifs were deemed appropriate by and for a Christian audience. Nonetheless,
we must not assume that antique models for depicting deity were automati-
cally curated into visions of the new Christian God and his mother. Instead,
simplified expressions of the earliest Virgin Annunciate model the notion
of familiar and fertile matronage, rather than an exclusive ascetic goddess
type. Furthermore, objects like simple pilgrim tokens, marriage rings, fertil-
ity armbands, textiles, and memorial images which served personal, practical,
and domestic purposes deserve scrutiny by art historians for their ability to
profit historical investigation. These objects become especially helpful in the
investigation of lay piety and its relationship to Christian reception, primar-
ily because, “Iconography is, after all, the aspect of the image that informs, the
aspect that is addressed to the intellect of the spectator, and is common to pro-
saic informative images and to images that rise to poetry, that is, to art.”22 Even
schematic, quotidian objects are aesthetic in their own right and are perhaps
the most successful in providing clear access into the lives of ordinary women
because they are almost void of formalized pedagogical agendas.
3 Patristic Considerations
While this study primarily focuses on the visual image of the Virgin Annun-
ciate spinning as a social and spiritual model for women, wives, and mothers
within the Christian household, it is also developed around the theological lit-
erature. The standard evidence for discussion naturally begins with theolog-
19 Anthony Cutler, “Realities, Realia, and Realism: An Introduction to the Symposium,”

Dumbarton Oaks Papers 58 (2004): 155.
20 Cyril Mango, “Daily Life in Byzantium,” Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 31
(1981): 337–353.
21 Grabar, Christian Iconography, xliii.
22 Grabar, Christian Iconography, xlv.
10 introduction
ical discourse and the debates that later matured into full-blown controversies,
councils and creeds. Historians of late antiquity have rightly identified the
second, third, and fourth centuries as the seminal epoch in formulating and
developing formal Christian doctrine.23 Lay popular devotion towards Mary
was informally practiced, but still naturally percolated into the writings of the
Church Fathers, especially as they commented on her role as the Mother of
Jesus and distinguished her amongst women.
Contemporary apocryphal and patristic sources reveal an affinity for cele-
brating Mary’s maternity in late antique Christian texts, an affinity that was
quite possibly inspired by lay devotion amongst Christian women. Theologi-
cal writings of the second century defend, proclaim, and justify Christianity to
both the pagan and Jewish worlds.24 These works are somewhat apologetic in
nature and typically follow the dialectic style common to the Roman world.
Within these texts, Mary becomes the necessary foil to Eve, the mother of all
living, by providing the means for salvation embodied in Christ as Redeemer.25
Prior to the Council of Nicaea, it is difficult to ascertain if the Marian cult
existed in a prescribed form. But that there was interest in the role of the
Mother of Jesus remains irrefutable as theological texts begin to address issues
of doctrine and lay practice surrounding the veneration of Mary as early as the
second century.26
Surprisingly, the Church in Rome did not take an ultimate position on Mary
as the Theotokos during the earliest years of Christianity. The West was some-
what separated geographically from much of the debate that entangled East-
ern Christianity, even though Rome’s primacy was not lost on the Church at
large. While some will infer that the Roman Church was simply too pragmati-
cally engaged to concern themselves with the arguments of theological nuance
found in the East,27 it must be emphasized that the Roman Church intuitively
took a sophisticated and diplomatic position that would render it powerful in
later years. While the patristic writings presented here focus on what was com-
23 Peter Brown, Power and Persuasion in Late Antiquity (Madison, wi: University of Wisconsin
Press, 1992), 118–158.
24 Melito, Bishop of Sardis, falls into the category of apologist because, “around 170, he
addressed an apology on behalf of the Christians to the emperor, Marcus Aurelius.” Luigi
Gambero, Mary and the Fathers of the Church (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1999), 48.
25 Justin Martyr, Dialogue with Trypho 100; pg 6, 709–712.
26 Cf. Leslie Brubaker and Mary Cunningham, The Cult of the Mother of God in Byzantium:
Texts and Images (Farnham: Ashgate, 2011); Chris Maunder, Origins of the Cult of the
Virgin Mary (London; New York: Burns & Oates, 2008); Stephen Shoemaker, Mary in Early
Christian Faith and Devotion (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2016).
27 Gambero, Mary, 82.
monly accepted within the orthodox parameters of the Church, east and west,
it must be noted that those same parameters were being contested on every
side with outbreaks of heresy and constant tumult throughout the Empire.28
Nevertheless, from the third century to the Council of Nicaea in 325, the Church
would grow exponentially as internal hostilities diminished. The years just pre-
ceding the Council of Nicaea produced very little literary evidence of codified
Marian doctrine. However, the rise of the Arian heresy gave life to a doctrinal
crisis that called into question the dogma of the Trinity and ultimately its impli-
cations for Marian devotion.29
As Christian women of the fourth and fifth centuries were part of the grow-
ing Church and its controversies, it is important to understand the official
Church line on the status of wives and mothers. Did the Church Fathers effect
change or maintain continuity in the most personal aspects of the lives of early
Christian women like marriage and family life? Of course, Christianity brought
change to late antique family life. However, caution should be exercised in giv-
ing too much weight to patristic writers, like Jerome, who would impress us
with the notion that a very few ascetic women were more typical to the eche-
lons of Christian practice than they actually were. Art objects help us to check
these biases and sometimes become part of the Church’s legislation concern-
ing the private lives of its membership.30
From the fourth century, patristic interest in Marian theology extended its
reach to create an idealized exemplum for the lives of women in the early
Church. Among many of the Church Fathers, the ideal of virginity was para-
mount in discussing Marian doctrine and her role of exemplary motherhood
in the redemption of mankind. Both Ambrose (d. 397) and particularly Jerome
(d. 419) anticipate the findings of the Council of Ephesus regarding Mary’s
perpetual virginity.31 They responded adamantly to the opinion that Mary as
the mother of Christ remained the Ever-Virgin. In his treatise, De institutione
virginis of 393, Ambrose highlights the virginal state of Mary and suggests it
as an ideal to be embraced by all Christians: “Mary is extraordinary, she who
raised up the sign (signum) of sacred virginity and lifted up the pious standard
28 Maurice Wiles, “Orthodoxy and Heresy,” in Early Christianity: Origins and Evolution to
ad 600, ed. Ian Hazlett (Nashville, tn: Abingdon Press, 1993), 198–207.
30 Judith Evans Grubbs, Law and Family in Late Antiquity (New York: Oxford University Press,
1995), 87.
31 Jerome, On the Perpetual Virginity of the Blessed Mary, in Saint Jerome, Dogmatic and
Polemical Works, trans. John Nicholas Hritzu (Washington, d.c.: Catholic University of
America Press, 1965), 3–46.
12 introduction
(vexillum) of undefiled integrity for Christ … All are called to the cult of virginity
by the example of holy Mary.”32 Further, virginity had become the paradigm of
salvation for Ambrose, and his writings reveal a hierarchy of ascetic merits that
favoured celibates over married Christians.33 This hierarchy underscored the
seeming primacy of the ascetic life within the Christian community and surely
hastened the growth of monasticism in general.
As evidenced in patristic literature, early Christian piety was difficult to
define in a singular way. From its infancy, Orthodoxy was challenged by the
doctrinal differences of the Arians, Monophysites, Docetists, Donatists, and
Apollinarists amongst others, each arguing about the nature of Christ, whether
human or divine or both, with particular concern over the body of Christ. The
late fourth century is known for the controversial arguments of the Arians and
Apollinarians, the former denying the divinity and eternity of Christ, the later
denying his human nature. Gregory of Nyssa (d. 395) and Gregory Nazianzus
(d. 390) engaged in the defence of orthodoxy against both polemical heresies
and win their place in Constantinopolitan history for their contributions. They
both use the title Theotokos34 when elucidating Marian theology and empha-
size wonder and mysticism in the exchange between the Virgin and the designs
of heaven.
The texts of the New Testament canon were essential in unifying the church
from an external standpoint as well as internally developing a standard of
orthodoxy. During the third century, a liturgical calendar was established to
bring unity and identity to the nascent Church; as the new model of Chris-
tianity was relatively organized and began to prosper, it also began to attract
a critical mass of congregants.35 One of the greatest obstacles for these early
converts was the seeming deviation between Christian and traditional modes
of piety and morality established under Roman law. Christian ascetic practices
were considered superstitious by Roman officials and commentators, which
resulted in heavy charges being laid against the Christians generally.36
32 Ambrose, De Institutiones virginis 5.35, ed. Gori, 2:136.

33 David G. Hunter, Marriage, Celibacy, and Heresy in Ancient Christianity: The Jovinianist
Controversy (Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 2007), 202–203.
34 Gregory Nazianzus was the first to propose the title as a criterion of orthodoxy. Gambero,
Mary, 161.
35 Helen Rhee, Early Christian Literature: Christ and Culture in the Second and Third Centuries
(London and New York: Routledge, 2005), 12.
36 Pliny, Letters 10.96, declares Christianity a “depraved and excessive superstition,” while
Tacitus, Annals 15.44, charges Christians with “hatred of the human race,” and “pernicious
Superstition of Christians was no small thing. The very term was clearly
associated with groups and practices alien to Rome in ways that were both
irreligious and impious,37 thus posing a potent threat to the foundations of
Roman mores and values. The consequences of superstitious and impious
behaviour went beyond one’s own circle of influence. It seeped out into the
ideological basis of society to disturb the foundations of public devotion to the
gods, reason, virtue, love of community, and the fatherland.38 For women under
Roman rule, public recognition of virtue was essential to their status and social
standing. Therefore, pious images and behaviour that conformed to Roman
tradition, as well as meeting the requirements of Christian sanctity, would have
been vital within a late antique context.
This study of the spinning Annunciate encompasses not only spinning ico-
nography in early Christian art and artifact, but also presents a response to
this iconography. This response privileges the Christian matron as the unsung
participant in holy paideia or culture during late antiquity and argues that
matronage was used as exemplum for both virginal young women on the cusp
of marriage as well as for wives and mothers immersed in the household affairs
of daily living.39
superstition.” Suetonius, Nero 16.2, also describes Christians as a “class of men given to a
new and mischievous superstition.” All above as cited in Rhee, Early Christian, 12–20.
37 Rhee, Early Christian, 13.
38 Rhee, Early Christian, 13.
39 Cf. Margaret Y. MacDonald, Early Christian Women and Pagan Opinion (Cambridge: Cam-
bridge University Press, 1996); David Balch and Carolyn Osiek, eds., Early Christian Famlies
in Context (Grand Rapids, mi: Eerdmans Publishing, 2003).
chapter 1
The Roots and Precedents: Lanam Fecit
The casual observer often misses sacred things, not because they are abstract,
enigmatic, or complex, but because their holiness lies in their simplicity. So
it is with spinning and its implements, the spindle and distaff in particular.
Roman spinning imagery was abundantly available to late antique patrons
and viewers alike. The task of spinning was part of everyday living, but it was
also a constant and indisputable signifier of female virtue. Most importantly,
within the Christian context, spinning iconography was associated with access
to divine notice and holy behavior. It is not difficult to understand why and
how these same attributes, with their long history as powerful symbols, became
those of Mary the Annunciate, a woman of royal stature, at the very moment
when she is announced as the mother of Christ. The earliest known example
of this iconography is found in the Catacombs of Priscilla (fig. 1), dating to
the second century and concurrent with pagan uses of the same motif. What
follows introduces iconographic precedents from the antique past that were
adopted and adapted by Christians during late antiquity. This chapter outlines
the visual, textual, and cultural precedents in myth, legend, and historical
account that later informed Christian imagery of the Virgin Annunciate with
the everyday attributes of spindle and distaff.
Though he does not specifically discuss religion or work as part of his anal-
ysis, Henri Lefebvre poignantly describes the quotidian in work and religion
as indivisible from cultural identity and therefore integral to the iconogra-
phy and images that cultures produce. He concludes that “the everyday is
a product … the most universal, and the most unique condition, the most
social and the most individuated, the most obvious and the best hidden.”1
The spindle and distaff as symbols have been so well hidden in the every-
day minutiae of late antique life that it is no surprise to find museum store-
rooms full of such paraphernalia, mostly recovered from graves in Roman Pales-
tine, Egypt, and throughout Europe, all recorded, stored, and often forgotten.
Some may argue that the act of imposing the symbols of spindle and distaff
upon a woman was oppressive and driven by the voice of misogynistic patriar-
1 Henri Lefebvre and Christine Levich, “The Everyday and Everydayness,” Yale French Studies
73 (1987): 9.

the roots and precedents 15
chy.2 However, while spinning and cloth production could be as monotonous

as any other daily chore, the spindle and distaff, as symbols of female virtue,
were peerless in demonstrating the status and power of the female head of
the household or materfamilias. The number and varied instances of these
symbolic motifs indicate that they could not have been wholly unpalatable to
women, even when commissioned on behalf of a female family member by
a husband or father. Spindles and spinning iconography were clearly related
to all facets of life from birth to marriage to death among women, a fact that
is consistent throughout the historical context of the ancient Mediterranean
region and the cradle of civilization in Mesopotamia.
A visible “cult” of the Virgin Mary demands evidence to substantiate its exis-
tence before the fifth century, by which time it was a well-established fact,
complete with Marian liturgical festivals, canonical councils, and patristic texts
celebrating Mary.3 The art historical obscurity of the second to fourth centuries
is due to the paucity of monumental evidence;4 yet, sufficient objects, images,
and texts survive from these earliest centuries to establish the presence of a rel-
evant and significant Marian fascination. It is not unusual, given the rarity of
ancient objects, that those remaining may not seem to develop stylistically in a
smooth or linear way. When looking at small, domestic objects associated with
the earliest Marian cult, it is crucial to study them within an appropriate con-
text. For late antiquity, that context was intrinsically tied to the iconographic
language of the classical past as well as Semitic traditions. It is not necessary to
draw in a large body of evidence to see the patterns and direction the available
evidence is pointing. The objects that feature the Virgin Annunciate spinning
discussed here make up approximately ten to twenty percent of the extant
objects of their type, according to the listings found in the Index of Christian
Art. These numbers are significant because, though none of these objects are
large or monumental in and of themselves, they firmly establish the earliest
material origins of the cult(s) of Mary and the ways in which those cults existed
and, perhaps, functioned.5
2 Miriam B. Peskowitz, Spinning Fantasies: Rabbis, Gender and History (Berkeley: University of
California Press, 1997), 27–48.
3 Cameron, “Early Cult,” 5.
4 John McGuckin, “The Early Cult of Mary and Inter-Religious Contexts in the Fifth-century
Church,” in The Origins of the Cult of the Virgin Mary, ed. Chris Maunder (London; New York:
Burns and Oates, 2008), 1–6.
5 McGuckin, “Early Cult,” 6–7. Cf. Chris Maunder, “Origins of the Cult of the Virgin Mary in the
New Testament,” in The Origins of the Cult of the Virgin Mary, ed. Chris Maunder (London;
16 chapter 1
Images of the Virgin have been studied from various perspectives. Some of
the most successful arguments feature an exegesis of the primary sources as
evidence for the earliest popularity of Mary.6 Others discuss the role of ortho-
doxy and church councils in shaping the theological issues that surrounded
her.7 Still other approaches propose that Marian iconography is expressly de-
rived from Mother Goddess precedents.8 However, scholarship has largely ig-
nored the fact that the earliest trope of the Virgin Annunciate spinning took its
iconographic and ideological cue from the pious precedent of Roman matron-
age;9 a precedent that preserved deep continuities between the roles of virtu-
ous women and their social stature within late antique communities. These
iconographic links, through adaptations and changes from the classical arche-
type, widened the range of exegetical possibilities for women who understood
the pre-Christian cultural nuances of the spinning matron and assimilated
those traditions into the art they patronized. These continuities between the
past and the present did not limit the capacity for holiness in women of the
early Church, rather, they broadened, strengthened, and privileged the pious
practices and social roles of daughters, mothers, wives, grandmothers, virgins
and widows.
New York: Burns and Oates, 2008), 23–40; Stephen Shoemaker, “The Cult of the Virgin in
the Fourth Century: A Fresh Look at Some Old and New Sources,” in The Origins of the
Cult of the Virgin Mary, ed. Chris Maunder (London; New York: Burns and Oates, 2008), 71–
88.
6 Cf. Leslie Brubaker and Mary Cunningham, eds., The Cult of the Mother of God in Byzantium
(Burlington, vt: Ashgate, 2011); Maria Vassilaki, ed., Mother of God: Representations of the
Virgin in Byzantine Art (Milan: Skira, 2000); Chris Maunder, ed., The Origins of the Cult of the
Virgin Mary (New York; London: Burns and Oates, 2008).
7 Maria Evangelatou, “The Purple Thread of the Flesh: The Theological Connotations of a
Narrative Iconographic Element in Byzantine Images of the Annunciation,” in Icon and Word:
The Power of Images in Byzantium. Studies Presented to Robin Cormack, eds. Antony Eastmond
and Liz James (Aldershot: Ashgate Publishing, 2003), 261–280.
8 Cf. Stephen Benko, The Virgin Goddess: Studies in the Pagan and Christian Roots of Mariology
(Leiden; New York: Brill, 1993); Philippe Borgeaud, Mother of the Gods: From Cybele to the
Virgin Mary (Baltimore, md: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2004); Elmer George Suhr, The
Spinning Aphrodite: The Evolution of the Goddess from Earliest Pre-Hellenic Symbolism through
Late Classical Times (New York: Helios Books, 1969).
9 Sarolta A. Tarács, Vestal Virgins, Sibyls, and Matrons: Women in Roman Religion (Austin, tx:
University of Texas, 2008), 112–121.
1 Catacombs of Priscilla, Cubiculum p—the First Annunciation
Situated in an outlying aristocratic neighborhood of second-century Rome,

the Catacombs of Priscilla are home to the earliest visual representations of
the Virgin Mary. The Annunciation is prominently painted on the ceiling of
Cubiculum p, a large, ornately decorated room that features images typifying
the oeconomeia or redemptive mission of Christ (figs. 1–3).10 The Annunciation
scene is the largest and most prominent of three distinct images of the Virgin
in this catacomb, all of which are found within thirty meters of each other.
Cubiculum p is located in the first level of the catacombs, where a series
of multiple entrances and galleries continue to a total of fourteen kilome-
ters of passageways lined with loculi. Significantly, this level was believed to
be the possible burial site of the early Christian Saints Praxedes and Puden-
tiana and is also the oldest part of the catacomb.11 Cubiculum p is large with
a decorated arcosolium over two loculi. Perpendicular to the main room is an
adjacent corridor with a series of large loculi in close succession. Cubiculum
p is a dead-end and was not intended as a passage to other parts of the cata-
comb. Its semi-private location, placement, and decoration are consistent with
wealthy patronage. The cubiculum is elaborately decorated and large enough
to accommodate several people, yet only two empty loculi are present. Besides
the central ceiling Annunciation medallion, there are two scene types in the
arcosolium: the Raising of Lazarus and the Jonah cycle, both typical Chris-
tian salvific motifs. A substantial amount of soot from lamp smoke still covers
the sections of the ceiling not decorated with frescoes, indicating that more
than occasional mourners at funerary vigils frequented this room.12 In fact, this
10 This image, along with others presented in this chapter, heartily disproves the notion that
representation of the Virgin was unknown or unpopular before the Council of Ephesus in
431. Prior to Ephesus, images of Mary mingled the virtue of pudicitia with matronly dignity
and maternal influence. It is only after that council and “its zeal against the doctrines of
Nestorius” (Henry Milman, The History of Christianity [New York: Harper & Brothers, 1841],
493.) that we see an established hieratic type of Virgin that degenerates from the original
lay conception to countenance the theological agendas inherent in the declaration of
Theotokos.
11 George Edmundson, Church in Rome in the First Century (London: Longmans Green, 1913),
244–250. Cf. Fabrizio Mancinelli, The Catacombs of Rome and the Origins of Christianity
(Florence: Scala, 1994). The authenticity of these saints’ remains within the catacombs is
disputed because of the proliferation of martyr stories and fake relics during the Middle
Ages.
12 The heavy amounts of soot could certainly have accumulated over the centuries and into
the modern era, again an indication of frequent visitors. There is no significant desecration
18 chapter 1
figure 1 Annunciation, Cubiculum p, Priscilla Catacombs, Rome, second century ad

© pcas
cubiculum, located near an exterior access, could have hosted Christian devo-
tees for prayer or vigil in a similar fashion to the so-called Greek Chapel located
nearby.13
or graffiti present in this section of the catacomb. Subsidiary to the Vatican, the Pontifical
Commission for Sacred Archaeology oversees the maintenance of these catacombs as holy
space.
13 Nicola Denzey, The Bone Gatherers: The Lost World of Early Christian Women (Boston:
Beacon Press, 2007), 102.
figures 2 and 3 Annunciation details, Priscilla Catacombs, Rome, second century ad

© pcas
The Annunciation scene looms large in the central medallion of the elabo-
rately decorated chamber. Mary sits on a high-backed chair wearing a typical
aristocratic Roman stola and palla. Her palla is set back on her head and wraps
her shoulders in a gossamer film. Her hair is coiffed in a manner consistent
with the elite classes of second-century Roman women. She is seated at a three-
quarter angle against a blank background without further detail. Cleaning and
restoration in the 1950s left a yellowing varnish distinguishable from the origi-
nal white ground of the fresco. The seated Virgin composition is consistent with
the apocryphal account in the Protevangelium of James that describes how she
rushed inside her house, after she was initially addressed by Gabriel at the well,
to resume her spinning. It is difficult to tell if there is a basket at her right side in
front of the chair. However, the indication of a gold coloured distaff held under
her left arm may indicate that she has drawn woollen roves from a basket or
is drawing her work across her lap. The wingless Angel Gabriel stands to the
right, dressed in the toga worn by Roman men of aristocratic rank, actively ges-
turing with his right hand toward Mary. Besides the figures, the chair, and the
wool basket, the scene is void of any extra narrative clutter and is rendered in
a simple and monumental way.
20 chapter 1
Upon close inspection, I cautiously suggest that the Priscilla Catacomb

Annunciation scene presents the advent of Marian iconography in which she
assumes the attributes of the idealized matron. I was privileged to visit Cubicu-
lum p in October 2009, and there appeared to be evidence of a wool basket and
a rove of wool depicted in the, admittedly, indistinct image of the Virgin Annun-
ciate. Matronly figures, such as Leto of the Golden Spindle or the freedwoman
Regina with a wool basket, as represented on her tombstone, set up clear prece-
dents for this type (fig. 6). The figure of Mary with her veil about her shoulders,
carrying a long spindle with golden thread, is familiar and reminiscent of the
matronly women, to be later discussed, now honoured in a purely Christian
way through the adaptation of the same symbols of female virtue.
The large image on the painted cubiculum ceiling in the Priscilla Catacomb
would have elicited a response from the viewer based on his or her own famil-
iarity with the image type, their knowledge of the Annunciation story, and
their fluency in reading the iconographic elements of the image. The emblem-
atic meaning of the image was well tacit, established, and could have been
understood by even the least socially mobile viewer. Female viewers, from the
elite matron to the those serving in humble households, knew that the spindle
and distaff represented a paradigm of Roman virtue for women of all classes.
Here, permanently associated with the mother of God, this symbolism pro-
vided an effective and permanent new ideal that linked honourable female
behaviour with honourable Christian behaviour. For women, this iconogra-
phy was the singular and legitimizing sign in late antiquity that specifically
associated marriageable, married, and matronly women with a familiar task
now performed by the Virgin; thus, the domestic task of spinning and its
assimilation into the Christian world required no intercessor or patriarch,
nor the abandonment of familial comforts and ideals, to demonstrate holy
behaviour.
For the first time, the iconic symbols of spindle and distaff in association
with the Annunciation appear in the Priscilla catacombs’ Cubiculum p and
positively reveal a Christian aesthetic that valued, revered, and venerated Mary
as the virtuous Materfamilias. It is no accident that, in the development of
Christian iconography, Mary, as the spinning Annunciate, is presented as a
traditional Roman matron worthy of a spindle at about the same time that
the first Christian apologists were writing and presenting pudicitia, or pious
modesty and virtue, as part of the Christian ethic thereby lending a sense of
legitimacy to their cause.
Christianity emerged into a world where the act of spinning was already
loaded with social and cultural tradition. Spinning was the symbol of ide-
alized femininity within the ancient Mediterranean world as exemplified by
women of the imperial household,14 but was also found commemorating ordi-
nary matrons and freedwomen, especially in memorial contexts. Precedents
for spinning iconography were common during the first and second centuries
ad in the Roman world, and are found on ordinary funerary reliefs featur-
ing deceased women with spinning implements. The funerary relief of Ulpia
Epigone from about 80ad shows Epigone in a reclining position with her feet
resting on a basket for wool.15 Another similar example includes a first-century
funerary relief from Este, which also shows a wool basket and spindle at the
feet of an exemplary matron.16
The funerary relief of Ulpia Epigone, as discussed by Eve D’Ambra, demon-
strates that the Roman ideal was not limited to chastity and modesty, but also
embraced grace, elegance, and industry. Ulpia Epigone is shown half-draped,
conjuring up the mythological guise of the Capitoline Venus, suggesting that
she is healthy, fertile, and sexually desirable.17 She is coiffed in the Flavian
tradition and wears bracelets, a pendant, and a ring on her little finger.18 Addi-
tionally, two attributes, a small dog and wool basket, are present, indicating the
domestic virtues of fidelity and industry. The wool basket designates Epigone
as an exemplary matron, juxtaposing her industrious and dutiful nature with
her beauty and sexuality. The feminine ideal allowed for the combination of
uenustas (charm) and castitas (upright, morally pure or chaste behaviour), a
combination found particularly in association with the Roman matron.19 Here
we see that mythological allusions were easily combined with traditional activ-
ities, even in reference to women of varying social classes.20
Just as the relief sculpture of Ulpia Epigone displays a symbolic union of
physical desirability with matronly virtue, the epitaph of Allia Potestas found
14 Eric D. Huntsman, “The Family and Property of Livia Drusilla” (PhD Diss., University of
Pennsylvania, 1997), 89–90.
15 Eve D’Ambra, “The Cult of Virtues,” in Roman Art in Context, ed. Eve D’Ambra (New Jersey:
Prentice Hall, 1993), 109.
16 D’Ambra, “Cult,” 109.
18 D’Ambra, “Cult,” 109. D’Ambra references Pliny who “recounts that the custom of wearing
a single ring upon the little finger was no more than an ostentatious advertisement that
the owner has property of a more precious nature under seal at home.” See Pliny, Natural
History 33.22–25, cited by D’Ambra, “Cult,” 109.
20 D’Ambra, “Cult,” note 12. “The praenomen Ulpia seems to assert a relationship with the
Trajanic house while the cognomen Epigone probably indicates servile status.”
22 chapter 1
in the via Pinciana in Rome describes a freedwoman in much the same way. Eve
D’Ambra discusses the inscribed poem which “lists Allia’s traditional accom-
plishments as the faithful guardian of her master’s house: she was quiet, obe-
dient, hardworking, the first to rise in the morning and the last to retire in
the evening, and her wool never left her hands without good cause” (lines 9–
14).21 Then the poem continues with a detailed description of her beauty: her
ivory complexion, golden hair, shapely breasts, and graceful figure (lines 17–
23). Mythology and history are intricately combined to promote the ideals
of harmony within society, and to exemplify the responsibility of women for
maintaining that balance. The popularization of such epitaphs and verses sug-
gests that personal identification with these qualities and virtues would have
been presented for most women who wished to be considered respectable
wives and attain the station of materfamilias. Even common funerary mark-
ers with the simple epitaph lanam fecit, or she spun wool, are persuasive to this
end.22
A second-century Roman sarcophagus lid, today in the Capitoline Museum
(fig. 4), mingles the pagan Fates or Parcae and the underworld gods Pluto and
Proserpina with images of the deceased, a woman modestly wearing the mantle
or palla of matrons.
A small panel on the right depicts Mercury gazing back at the woman he is
about to guide into the underworld. Further right is a scene of marital concordia
with the husband and wife sitting on a lectus. The deceased woman lays her
hand on her husband’s shoulder and he offers a piece of fruit to her as their dog
looks up at the couple, juxtaposing matronly and familial memorial values.
The symbols of spindle and distaff are connected here specifically to the
lifespan of this matron as Clotho, on the left, holds a distaff and spindle with
which she spins the thread of life; Lachesis, in the centre, holds a scale for
weighing or measuring the thread, against the cornucopia of Fortuna/Tyche;
Atropos, on the right, holds an open scroll, probably symbolizing the book of
fate (fig. 5). Finally, the most striking example of this iconography being used
in conjunction with an ordinary woman is the tombstone of Regina, the British
wife of the Palmyrene soldier Barates who erected this memorial at South
Shields in the second century ad (fig. 6). The tombstone is similar in style to
21 D’Ambra, “Cult,” 110. Cf. A.E. Gordon, Illustrated Introduction to Latin Epigraphy (Berkeley:
University of California Press, 1983), 146–148.
22 Richmond Lattimore, Themes in Greek and Latin Epitaphs (Urbana: The University of
Illinois Press, 1942), 297.
figure 4 Sarcophagus lid with relief panels, Capitoline Museum, Rome, mid-second
century ad
courtesy of roma, musei capitolini
other Palmyrene memorials, which may indicate that Barates commissioned

a fellow Palmyrene artisan familiar with this memorial style to honour his
wife.
Regina is shown seated frontally on a high-backed chair with a spindle in her
right hand and distaff in her left. At Regina’s feet are two other telling objects:
on the left is a money box with a lockset, and on the right a large woven bas-
ket with handles holds multiple balls of spun yarn. Regina is seated within an
elaborate arched niche surmounted by a pediment with pilasters flanking her
on each side. Here is the visual representation of a freedwoman conspicuously
associated with industry and economic abundance, placed within an honou-
rific architectural memorial setting, with her spindle and distaff in hand.
Clearly women from varied social standings identified with these attributes
of female virtue. Spinning was an integral part of popular literature and myth,
including the myths surrounding the goddesses associated with spinning and
weaving.23 Pagan myth and literary history provided a rich and replete sym-
23 Christine Downing, Encyclopedia of Religion (Thomson Gale, 2005), second edition online,
24 chapter 1
figure 5 Sarcophagus lid with relief panels, three fates detail, Capitoline Museum, Rome,
mid-second century ad
courtesy of roma, musei capitolini
bolic canon in the Roman world for females who spun. Legendary women,
like Helen, Arete, and Penelope, were consistently associated with spinning,
especially during the famous episodes of their lives when they were depicted
as good wives and mothers and proved their powerful, even prophetic insights
into events that would shape the successes or failures of legendary history.24
When ancient women spun, they did so “from a position of (marital) power
and security.”25
s.v. “Athena,” 586–588. Athena as the goddess of war, the arts and feminine works, guided
and protected women and children and maintained the general good of the community.
She privileged rational preparation and creative intelligence. She “encourages citizens in
the arts and crafts so integral to civilized existence.” The depiction of Minerva teaching
initiates to spin is found on the frieze of the Forum Transitorium in Rome.
24 Maria Pantelia, “Spinning and Weaving: Ideas of Domestic Order in Homer,” The American
Journal of Philology, vol. 114, no. 4 (Winter, 1993): 493–501.
25 Pantelia, “Spinning and Weaving,” 500.
figure 6 Tombstone for Regina, British Museum, London, second century ad

© the trustees of the british museum
1.1 Ancient Goddesses from Eastern Mesopotamia and Egypt

Goddesses of spinning and weaving were endemic in the eastern Mediter-
ranean, Middle East, and Egypt. Mary, as the spinning Annunciate, has many
iconographic affinities with goddesses who spin, but ultimately her role as
an earthly mother and matron subordinates those affinities for early Chris-
26 chapter 1
tian viewers. The spindle and distaff were symbols that assured cultural res-
onance with pagan iconography, but they were also deeply rooted in gospel
paradigms that tied Christian ideas of heaven with the tangible realia of living
on earth.26 Marian iconography, particularly as it relates to the task of spinning,
did inherit meaning from antique imagery. It is important to understand those
inheritances and how they developed into Mary’s role as Theotokos or Mother
of God.27
The Mesopotamian goddess Uttu, the West Semitic goddess Asherah, and
the Egyptian goddess Tait or Tayet are perhaps less well known than the Greco-
Roman goddesses in their pantheons, but provide intriguing, evocative, and
symbolic models around ancient cloth production. These goddesses of spin-
ning and weaving share common characteristics. They were especially revered
for their cosmic associations with life and death. They were also famous for fos-
tering the terrestrial household, upholding the dignity of marriage and mater-
nity, and sustaining the specific craft that provided economic agility, protec-
tion, and power for their devotees.
Uttu, the Sumerian goddess of spinning and weaving, is often linked with
the mother goddess Ninhursag and is assigned oversight over fertility, creation,
and all things relevant to women.28 Likewise the goddess Asherah is the female
creatrix and partner of the Israelite god Yahweh. She is associated with the
valiant, capable wife or ʾešet-ḥayil and the archetype, Woman Wisdom, from
the Hebrew book of Proverbs 31. According to the proverb, Woman Wisdom
works the raw materials of flax and wool to make clothing for herself and her
household. She profits from her industry as additional garments are made for
sale. The quality and workmanship of her hands is always described as fine
and of the highest quality. She is a valiant, powerful, capable benefactress who
acts with a fearless view to the future. In fact, “the very term ḥayil … implies
strength and virility,” and ʾeset-ḥayil is the female counterpart of the gibbôr
ḥayil, “the title of the ‘mighty men of valor’ who are often named in David’s
age.”29
26 McGuckin, “Early Cult,” 18.

27 Apart from the peripheral associations that follow, this study is not ultimately focused on
Mary’s expression as a mother goddess.
28 Tivka Frymer-Kensky, In the Wake of the Goddesses: Women, Culture and the Transforma-
tion of Pagan Myth (New York: Ballantine Books, 1993), 23.
29 Al Wolters, “Proverbs xxxi 10–31 as Heroic Hymn: A Form-Critical Analysis,” Vetus Testa-
mentum 38 (1988): 453. Cf. Ibid., 446–457; Bruce K. Waltke, “The Role of the ‘Valiant Wife’
in the Marketplace,” Crux 35/3 (Summer 1999): 23–34.
Susan Ackerman has presented compelling evidence, including a large num-

ber of loom weights found at the sites of Taʿanach and Tel Miqne-Ekron, Israel
to suggest a correlation between textile production and the worship of Ashe-
rah.30 Additionally, textile fragments and production remains from Kuntillet
ʿAjrûd in the northern Sinai suggest that Asherah was worshiped, as consort to
the Israelite god Yahweh, in conjunction with cult activity at the site.31
In Egypt, the goddess Tayet was renowned for crafting the linen bandages
used for embalming and mummification. She is referred to as the mother who
arrays the dead pharaoh in pure wrappings and lifts him to heaven.32 Tayet
also weaves the curtain for the tent of purification where embalming rituals
took place. An Egyptian magic incantation indicates that the linen bandages
used to prevent haemorrhage and keep wounds clean were called the “land
of Tayet/Tait.”33 Tayet is also called upon by Isis to help wrap the fragments
of Osiris’ body before he is brought back to life. Interestingly, Tayet had a cult
centre at Akhmim, long revered as a centre of linen production, and the find
site of a linen Annunciation fragment in the Victoria and Albert Museum dated
to the fourth or fifth century, to be later discussed.
1.2 Greek and Roman Goddesses

From very early Greek history, spinning was used as a symbol of virtue, creation,
wisdom, binding, and mending. Spinning and creation are found together in
classical mythology, particularly in association with Athena and the Fates.
Athena is well attested as the Greek goddess of spinning and weaving. She
was known as Athena Ergane, an epithet used to describe her patronage of
all handicrafts and especially her prowess at teaching young girls to spin and
weave.
30 Susan Ackerman, “Asherah, the West Semitic Goddess of Spinning and Weaving?” Journal
of Near Eastern Studies 67, no. 1 (2008): 1–30.
31 Cf. William G. Dever, “Recent Archaeological Confirmation of the Cult of Asherah in
Ancient Israel,” Hebrew Studies 23 (1982): 37–43; Saul M. Olyan, Asherah and the Cult of
Yahweh in Israel, Society of Biblical Literature, Monograph Series, no. 34 (Atlanta: Society
of Biblical Literature, 1988); Judith M. Hadley, The Cult of Asherah in Ancient Israel and
Judah: Evidence for a Hebrew Goddess (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University
Press, 2000).
32 Richard H. Wilkinson, The Complete Gods and Goddesses of Ancient Egypt (London:
Thames and Hudson, 2003), 168, citing Pyramid Text 741.
33 George Hart, A Dictionary of Egyptian Gods and Goddesses (London: Routledge, 1986), 212–
213.
28 chapter 1
For the Greeks, fate was spun as a thread along a linear progression of time.
According to the Greek literary tradition, the Moirai or Apportioners were three
in number: Clotho, “Spinner,” who spun the thread of life; Lachesis, “Allotment,”
who measured the span; and Atropos, “Unturnable,” who cut the thread and
ended life.34 Their mother, Ananke, the Great Goddess of the universe, along-
side her consort Kronos, spun out threads of time and space with the celestial
bodies of the sun, moon, and planets acting as her whorls. Plato describes the
scene in the Myth of Er and describes the grand design of these life-giving
strands as creating part of a larger universal harmony that favoured philosoph-
ical virtue or wisdom.35 Again, in the Timaeus, Plato associates the creation of
the physical universe with eternal pre-existent material, “necessity” or Ananke,
and her able spindle.36 Ananke personifies the ordered workings of the uni-
verse and her daughters represent the continuum of life past, present, and
future. It is no wonder that to wield a spindle held deep ideological, philosoph-
ical, as well as practical meanings.
In the Iliad and the Odyssey, Homer admits that even the hero is subject to
the consequent actions of the divine female spinners in his repeated couplet:
And then [the person] will suffer whatever Fate and the
Heavy [-handed] Spinners
Spun into their linen [thread] for him, coming into being,
When his mother gave birth to him.37
34 Elizabeth Wayland Barber, Women’s Work: The First 20,000 Years (New York: W.W. Norton
& Co., 1994), 235.
35 Plato, Republic, Book x. “Now when the spirits which were in the meadow had tarried
seven days, on the eighth they were obliged to proceed on their journey, and, on the fourth
day after, he said that they came to a place where they could see from above a line of light,
straight as a column, extending right through the whole heaven and through the earth,
in colour resembling the rainbow, only brighter and purer; another day’s journey brought
them to the place, and there, in the midst of the light, they saw the ends of the chains of
heaven let down from above: for this light is the belt of heaven, and holds together the
circle of the universe, like the under-girders of a trireme. From these ends is extended the
spindle of Necessity, on which all the revolutions turn. The shaft and hook of this spindle
are made of steel, and the whorl is made partly of steel and also partly of other materials.”
http://classics.mit.edu/Plato/republic.11.x.html (December 15, 2012).
36 Plato, Timaeus and Critias, trans. Desmond Lee (London: Penguin Classics, 1972), 28–30.
37 Homer, The Iliad 20.127, and The Odyssey 7.197–198 (Cambridge, ma: Candlewick Press,
1996).
figure 7 Child’s sarcophagus, Vatican Museum, Rome, second century ad
Here, spinning the thread of life was associated with parturition, as the
Moirai or fates were said to spin while they attended the birth of each child.
Like the Greeks, the Romans understood the cosmic Fates to spin out a child’s
life from birth, and even called their goddesses of fate the Parcae, which is
etymologically linked to parire or “to give birth to.”38 A Roman child’s sar-
cophagus in the Vatican Museum, probably dating to the second century ad,
poignantly depicts scenes from early childhood including the swaddled child
on his mother’s lap, preparation for the first bath, and a child’s race with a cart
pulled by a sheep (fig. 7). The face of the child driving the cart is sketched in,
and was likely added when the sarcophagus was purchased. The Three Fates
attend the scene, spinning out the length of life, recording it, and determining
its shortened length. Here, wool and spindle are the bittersweet symbols of the
powerful capacity of the Fates to determine the life-span of this child.
Wool was known to produce a spark when rubbed with amber. The gener-
ation of this spark was connected with the cosmos and with what the Greeks
called pneuma, “Spirit, Living Air, the Breath of Life.”39 Lightning, in the same
38 Judith Lynn Sebesta, “Weavers of Fate: Symbolism in the Costume of Roman Women,”
(lecture, College of Arts and Sciences, University of South Dakota, March 28, 1994), under
“page 5,” http://www.usd.edu/arts-and-sciences/upload/Harrington-Lecture-Sebesta.pdf
(accessed November 30, 2008).
39 Sebesta, “Weavers of Fate,” 4.
30 chapter 1
magical way, came from flocculus or wooly clouds and Plutarch described the
goddess Clotho as spinning “clouds charged with pneuma (visible as lightning)
into the golden thread of life, which is rain.”40 The tender and fleeting scenes
of childhood are naturally coupled with the notion that one’s life-force was
controlled by forces outside the mortal realm.
Connections between the nature of wool, spinning symbolism, and fate were
pervasive amongst portrayals of mortals, heroes, and gods alike. Weighing in
at one kilo each, two silver cups from Hoby, Denmark, date to 14–21 ad and
feature scenes of the heroes Achilles and Philoctetes. One of the cups, now
in the National Museum, Copenhagen, shows Achilles as a semi-divine figure
with short hair and an athletically proportioned body, closely resembling the
idealized image of Caesar Augustus during the early Imperial period. The story
of Achilles combined mythic super-human strength and virtue with human
weakness in the heroic tragedy, the Iliad. Our scene unfolds as Achilles has
killed Hector and dragged his body behind his chariot for ten days and nights.
King Priam secretly visits the Greek camp and approaches the seated Achilles
in humility to beg for the body of his son. Achilles’ mother Thetis visits her son
and insists that he release Hector’s body.
Thetis is one of two female figures in the scene that act as figural parenthe-
ses, along with two semi-draped male figures, flanking the central figures of
Achilles and Priam. The repoussé figure of matronly Thetis is seated with her
wool basket at her knee, exemplifying both her virtue and her role as Achilles’
wise mother. She pulls a slender, partially spun rove of wool from the basket
while a female attendant gestures toward the rove with her right hand. By tak-
ing up her spinning in this context, Thetis is presiding within the familial hall as
the modest, reasoned, and industrious matron. It is ironic that, as Thetis spins,
she foreshadows that even Achilles is subject to the Fates. She is conspicuously
present and seems to oversee Priam’s plea to Achilles for his son’s desecrated
body and Achilles’ merciful relinquishing of Hector’s body.
This is not the first time that the spindle was recorded in connection with
the fate of Achilles. The Roman poet Catullus presents the spinning Fates in
attendance at the wedding of Peleus and Thetis, Achilles’ father and mother.
In poem 64,41 they sing about the heroic acts of the as yet unborn Achil-
40 Sebesta, “Weavers of Fate,” 5.

41 Catullus’ poem 64 also features fleece, cloth and thread in conjunction with the narrative
layers of the Golden Fleece (line 6) and the embroidered coverlet for Thetis’ wedding bed
(lines 47–51), which, in turn, features the plight of Ariadne and Theseus, who is given a
sword and Ariadne’s ball of thread (line 113) in order to defeat the Minotaur and save his
life.
les.42 In the same way that the Fates literally spin out the length and events of
life, so Thetis is bound in her matronly role and is inextricably tied to the fate
of her son. It is not difficult to see correlations between the visual precedents
represented by antique heroes like Achilles and his mother Thetis and the
burgeoning iconography of Mary and Christ in earliest Christianity.
The life of Achilles is also represented in a fifth-century mosaic panel at Nea
Paphos, Cyprus, in the Villa of Theseus, room 40. The First Bath of Achilles (fig. 8)
mosaic panel is the only surviving panel of four from the main audience hall
of the Villa, “facing the apsidal south end of the room which probably once
contained the throne.”43 Thetis is lying on a couch, having just given birth to
Achilles, with Peleus seated next to her. The nurse Anatrophe kneels and holds
out the naked baby Achilles toward a basin, about to bathe him. A servant girl,
personifying Ambrosia or the nectar of immortality, brings a vessel of water
42 http://www.stoa.org/diotima/anthology/cat64.shtml (accessed August 10, 2010).

The Fates begin their prophetic song thus:
Line 305
Meanwhile, with the tremors of age in their infirm bodies,
the Parcae—the three Fates—began to give out their songs of truth.
A garment bright white all round draped their trembling bodies,
and circled their ankles with a crimson hem.
Rose ribbons were set at the snowy summits of their heads.
310
Their hands moved in the ritual of their eternal task.
The left held back the distaff wrapped in soft wool,
then the right, nimbly drawing out threads, shaped them—
palms up—on the fingers, then—palms down—spinning with thumb
whorled the spindle balanced on polished whorl.
315
All the while a nipping bite would smooth the work:
bits of wool that once had protruded from the smooth thread
clung to their dry, thin lips.
Before their white-clad feet, look, wicker baskets
guarded soft fleeces of wool.
320
Plucking from these fleeces, then, in clear-sounding tones
they poured forth in song these prophecies,
a song no later age shall convict of falsehood.
43 D. Michaelides, Cypriot Mosaics (Nicosia: Published by the Dept. of Antiquities, Cyprus,
1987), 44. Cf. W.A. Daszewski, “Polish Excavations at Kato (Nea) Paphos in 1970 and 1971,”
in Report of the Department of Antiquities, Cyprus, 1972, 210–236.
32 chapter 1
figure 8 First bath of Achilles, Villa of Theseus, Nea Paphos, Cyprus, fifth century or earlier
permission to publish granted by the department of antiquities,
cyprus
underscoring the bath imagery as opposed to the traditional account of Thetis

dipping Achilles in the river Styx.
To the right of the scene are the Three Fates, who determined and recorded
Achilles’ destiny at the wedding of Thetis and Peleus, and now appear here at
Achilles’ birth. Each of the Fates performs her duty; Clotho spins out Achilles’
life with her spindle and distaff, Lachesis records the events of his life with her
stylus and diptych, and Atropos carries an open scroll foretelling his destiny.44
Including the Fates, the spindle and distaff and the bathing basin in this late-
dated pagan scene uniquely demonstrates that these iconographic parallels
were consistently maintained in late ancient art and were associated with the
lives of gods and heroes.45
Further evidence for birth and fertility association is found within a Greek
cultic context. Myth was easily converted into religious fervor as demonstrated
by the cult of Aphrodite-Ariadne, which sprang up in the Greek isles and had
44 Michaelides, Cypriot Mosaics, 44.

45 Cf. W.A. Daszewski and Demetrios Michaelides, Mosaic Floors in Cyprus (Ravenna: Mario
Lapucci, Edizioni del Girasole, 1988), 72–76.
a cult shrine on Crete that dates to the Hellenistic age. This cult combined
the saving attributes of Ariadne, whose thread brought Theseus back from
certain death in the Minotaur’s labyrinth, and with Aphrodite the goddess
of procreation and new life.46 Considering the hazardous nature of giving
birth for both the mother and the infant, and given that Plutarch described
Ariadne as having died in childbirth on Cyprus,47 it is not unusual that women
participated in this cult to ensure a favourable outcome to their pregnancies.
In his Dionysiaca, Nonnos of Panopolis portrays Aphrodite as she tries her
hand at spinning and finds it unfamiliar to her and even painful.48 There is,
perhaps, the quintessential pagan use of spinning iconography that, in this con-
text, clearly dismisses the spindle’s exclusive association with ascetic virginity
and provides a sexually-charged precedent for Christian iconography. Seman-
tically, the origin of the Greek verb “to work wool” is derived from the root τλα,
which is interpreted as “pain.”49 Aphrodite loves to try the spindle, although
she works it awkwardly at first and with some effort and pain. By association
with Aphrodite, the spindle and distaff provide a sexualised antithesis to the
virginal female realm.
2 Spinning and Roman Public Display: Minerva and Domitian’s

Forum Transitorium
The discourse of domestic virtue is visually presented in the frieze of Domi-

tian’s Forum Transitorium in Rome, completed in 98 ad. Following the devastat-
ing fire of 80 ad, Domitian was interested in sponsoring images of traditional
Roman social order as part of his architectural patronage. Dedicated by Nerva
after Domitian’s death, the forum was an enclosed piazza in front of Domitian’s
Temple to the goddess Minerva and was set between the Forum of Augustus
and the Templum Pacis. This location effectively provided a barrier between
the Imperial fora and the Subura or slum district. The Forum Transitorium was
effectively built over the busy and crowded Argiletum, which originally con-
46 Barber, Women’s Work, 239.

47 Plutarch, Lives, Theseus and Romulus, trans. Bernadotte Perrin, Loeb Classical Library
(Cambridge, ma: Harvard University Press, 1914), xx.4.
48 Nonnos of Panopolis, Dionysiaca, trans. W.H.D. Rouse, Loeb Classical Library (Cambridge
ma: Harvard University Press, 1940–1942), xxiv, 239–319. Cf. Ioanna Papdopoulou-Bel-
mehdi, Le Chante de Pénélope (Paris: Belin, 1994), 47.
49 Papdopoulou-Belmehdi, Le Chante, 47.
34 chapter 1
figure 9 Minerva, Forum Transitorium, Rome, late-first century ad
nected the Subura to the Roman Forum,50 thus preventing access to and from
this less desirable part of the city.
The sculptural frieze found in the Forum Transitorium, includes unique
visual examples of imperial virtue and the public identity of Rome which pre-
date the Christian iconography of the Annunciation only by decades. Min-
erva Ergane, as the paragon of martial defence and domestic duty, is depicted
instructing matrons in the arts of spinning and weaving (figs. 9, 10).51 Here craft,
domesticity, industriousness, morality, and civic duty were intricately con-
nected in the character of both the goddess Minerva and the virtuous Roman
matron.
50 Samuel Ball Platner (as completed and revised by Thomas Ashby), A Topographical Dic-
tionary of Ancient Rome (London: Oxford University Press, 1929), 227–229.
51 Eve D’Ambra, Private Lives, Imperial Virtues: The Frieze of the Forum Transitorium in Rome
(Princeton, Princeton University Press, 1993), 11, 104. Domitian claimed descent from the
goddess Minerva and dedicated many temples to her—one in his new Forum Transito-
rium. Minerva was an apt choice to promote Domitian’s moral and religious revival during
the late-first century. Further, “by presenting models of exemplary behaviour and deter-
rent cases of reckless conduct, the emblematic narrative operates on the principles of
analogy and antithesis.”
figure 10 Minerva instructing women in the arts of spinning and weaving, Forum
Transitorium, Rome, late-first century ad
Minerva for the Romans, like Athena for the Greeks, is the goddess who tra-
ditionally represented wisdom and war as well as arts and crafts, including
spinning and weaving. Domestic responsibilities and industry are juxtaposed
with the public domain of military prowess in defining the goddess’s steward-
ship. Both were considered essential to maintaining the cherished imperial
house of order. Promoting the idealized matron was at the heart of domestic
industry, and orderly piety was aptly demonstrated through the symbols of the
spindle and distaff.
Also, included in the frieze is a depiction of the Arachne myth. It was used
as a cautionary tale with Arachne representing the symbol of social impiety as
she used her weaving (not spinning) skills to provoke the goddess’s anger, and
is eventually punished by being changed into a spider. Even when presented in
the narrative context of the Arachne myth, it is not certain that the iconography
of woolworking was meant to subjugate women to roles of docile servitude
within the household. Clearly, the Arachne myth is used here as a moralizing
demonstration of matronly industriousness and virtue.52 The reinforcement
of traditional behavioural structures as shown in the frieze does not diminish
the influence of the Roman matron, especially when this model could be used
to legitimate female authority within the household. Rather, the perpetuation
52 D’Ambra, Private Lives, 15.

36 chapter 1
figure 11 Genre scene with women spinning and weaving, Forum Transitorium, Rome,
late-first century ad
and interpretation of these images and iconography suggests the central role
of female virtue and cloth production in the functioning of both the household
and the state. Other genre scenes of spinning and weaving depicted in the
Forum Transitorium frieze are shown against idealized landscapes or with
blank backgrounds, indicating that the scenes may occur indoors (fig. 11).
This brief glimpse of the high domestic order of the goddess Minerva, which
conspicuously appears along a public thoroughfare in honour of the goddess’s
private cult, helps straddle the supposed divide between public and private
social spaces as well as the perceived divide between the secular and the holy.
In fact, this frieze indicates that these divisions were far less extreme than
previously assumed by those who wished to foster these divisions according to
twentieth-century theoretical supposition.53 Though anomalous in its monu-
53 The social theory of the public sphere was popularized by Jürgen Habermas during
the twentieth century and was widely used by feminists to demonstrate hegemonic
dominance and exclusion of women within the “public sphere” while at the same time
relegating them to the “private sphere” of domestic segregation. Ironically, it can be
argued that the private sphere is the only authentic domain, free from social pressures
and interventions. The boundaries of this theory must be rejected within the context
mental public representation, the frieze of the Forum Transitorium effectively

depicts woolworking motifs “as a topos for the devout matron, the guardian of
traditional society.”54 The morality of domestic life played an important role in
the public perceptions of the Roman mores maiorum, values that were easily
translatable into Christian iconography of the Virgin Annunciate. Associating
the Virgin with the spindle and distaff helped lend the new faith credibility
because of the symbol’s a priori association with virtue and civic order.
Another object that features spinning or cloth production in myth and
was meant for visual consumption is the Corbridge Lanx, an elaborate silver
platter featuring five figures including Apollo, Artemis, and their mother Leto.
Found at Corbridge, England, in 1735 and subsequently part of the collection
of the Duke of Northumberland, Alnwick Castle, the Lanx (fig. 12) is a shallow
rectangular dish cast in solid silver. It was found by the nine-year-old daughter
of a blacksmith in an area near the River Tyne where other pieces of silver had
also been discovered.
The Lanx, now permanently housed in the British Museum, was probably
used within a household setting and may have functioned in conjunction with
the late ancient pagan worship of Apollo, Artemis, or Leto. As its original prove-
nance is unknown, it is also possible that it had a much more mundane func-
tion and was simply used within an affluent household. The craftsmanship of
the chased silver is exquisite and features variety in the poses of the proportion-
ate, if somewhat stocky, figures. The piece is dated between the third quarter
of the fourth century and the first quarter of the fifth, and originated in Asia
Minor, perhaps even in Ephesus.55 The Lanx features Leto as the goddess of
motherhood and the honoured Titan mother of the divine twins Apollo and
Artemis by the god Zeus. It is contemporary in production to many early Chris-
tian images of the Virgin Annunciate spinning.
The goddess, also known as Leto of the golden spindle, is seated on an
elaborate scrolled bench and is shown in a three-quarter pose looking back
over her left shoulder at her son Apollo. She is veiled and equipped with a
long spindle in her right hand. Her attribute of the spindle likely originated
with cultic worship of the Great Mother, thus associating this iconography with
the maternal iteration of Leto.56 I do not suggest that Leto was the model for
of this thesis as the iconography in question clearly intersects both “spheres.” Cf. Jürgen
Habermas, The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere (Cambridge, ma: mit Press,
1962).
54 D’Ambra, Private Lives, 104.
55 O. Brendel, “The Corbridge Lanx,” The Journal of Roman Studies, vol. 31 (1941): 101–102, 127.
56 Brendel, “Lanx,” 114. For instances of the Chryselakatos used as an attribute of Leto see
38 chapter 1
figure 12 Corbridge Lanx, British Museum, London, fourth or fifth century ad

the spinning Annunciate, or that the opposite was true in the case of the Cor-
bridge Lanx. Instead, I suggest that there was a prevalent type, model, and
pattern established for the display of matrons and mothers, as demonstrated
in the case of Leto and Mary, mothers of Gods. That they were each depicted
spinning speaks to the elevated nobleness of the task within the late antique
context.
Each of these examples, in their own way, demonstrates how artistic rep-
resentations were not reserved only for intellectual or esoteric consumption.
Further, the use of allegory in the form of visual symbols was just as easily trans-
mitted through popular legend, storytelling, and in the objects of everyday life.
Images of classical myths and legends were conspicuously displayed within the
larger cultural oikumene of the Roman world. They helped to more easily inte-
grate the spinning motif into the late ancient Christian tradition. Just as Christ
Pindar, Nemean Odes, Isthmian Odes, Fragments, trans. William H. Race, Loeb Classical
Library no. 485 (Cambridge, ma: Harvard University Press, 1997), Ode 6.36 and Fragment
139.
was readily evoked in the guise of the god Apollo,57 Marian imagery developed,
in part, around the attributes of Apollo’s mother; the spindle being in every way
the most suitable symbol of her fertility and virtue.
3 Spinning in Legend
Pagan myth and literary history provided a rich symbolic canon of spinning
imagery. The literary culture of late antiquity inherited much from the classi-
cal past and esteemed the works of Homer, Virgil, and Plato in addition to the
Bible. Three well-known spinners who appear in Homer’s works are Arete,58
Helen, and Penelope. These women who spin, established as married house-
holders, provide and produce the proverbial thread that younger, unmarried,
or less powerful women used to weave the tapestry of their own lives.59 There
is a pattern of difference between the use of spinning and weaving within the
following legendary precedents. Spinning and weaving were not merely rep-
resentative of the household tasks common to most women, but were deeply
symbolic of women’s status. Whereas weaving represented an act in progress,
discord, or even the unknown fate of the weaver due to precarious circum-
stances, spinning was a stabilizing and harmonizing act that always accompa-
nied the virtuous character and behaviours of the spinner. It is fitting under this
typological trope that the spindle and distaff, accompanied by the allotment of
scarlet and purple wool would find its way into the apocryphal legends of the
Annunciation.
Examples from ancient tradition and late antique Christianity that follow
here delineate differences between weaving and spinning. Weaving, in both
literal and metaphorical terms, was a process driven task. For example, Pene-
lope continually weaves the shroud of Laertes and Mary becomes the vessel
for weaving of the body of Christ, an act described as being undertaken by
57 Thomas G. Elliott, “The Language of Constantine’s Propaganda,” Transactions of the Amer-

ican Philological Association, vol. 120 (1990): 349–353.
58 In Greek, Arete means virtue or excellence, thus the personification and association with
the task of spinning are clearly joined and obliged to reflect each other within the written
context.
59 Pantelia, “Spinning and Weaving,” 500. Calypso and Circe also weave in the Odyssey.
Yet, despite their wiles and weaving, they are unable to convince Odysseus to stay with
them, underscoring the theme of domestic or marital discord associated with weaving, as
opposed to spinning.
40 chapter 1
Christ himself.60 The act of weaving seems to indicate the working out of an
unfinished scene or task over time. Penelope at her loom marks the time of
Odysseus’ absence. Christ likewise is described as weaving his own body dur-
ing Mary’s finite parturition. Both instances anticipate an eventual culmination
or finalised result. Spinning, on the other hand, is an action or task that has a
continual or unbroken rhythm to it. Spinning is invoked in literature and art
to indicate a stabilized and continual state of being and is almost always car-
ried out by married women. Homer’s spinners are associated with aspects of
virtuous character and, therefore, apt spinning is associated with young mar-
riageable girls, wives, and mothers who are constant in their familial duties and
spin out time in their own right.
3.1 Helen of Troy

Perhaps the most notorious female spinner of legend is Helen of Troy. Helen
has been identified as the quintessential muse of the Homeric epics.61 She
is famously presented for the first time in the Iliad as she foretells the woes,
struggles, and triumphs of the Trojans and the Achaeans. Helen is summoned
by her messenger maidservant Iris to leave her chamber in Troy where she
weaves a red or purple garment complete with scenes of foreseen battles. She
emerges from her chamber in time to view the field of battle that she has
just woven in an anachronistic act of mimesis; from atop the Skaian gates she
witnesses the very same battle tableau that she has woven, and thus begins
the timeless narrative of the Greeks and Trojans. She weaves as a captive of
Paris and never spins while in Troy. Her acts of weaving are finite in time,
representing a fated end.
Helen is also featured in the Odyssey in a moment of nostalgia as Menelaus,
Telemachus, and Helen all recall their fondness for Odysseus. Again, Helen is
represented as an iconic, even divine muse:
Helen came forth from her fragrant high-roofed bedchamber, looking like
Artemis of the golden arrows; and with her came Adraste and set for her
the well-wrought chair, and Alcippe bare a rug of soft wool, and Phylo bare
a silver basket which Alcandre gave her, the wife of Polybus, who dwelt in
Thebes of Egypt, where is the chiefest store of wealth in the houses. He
60 This discussion of weaving is especially relevant to the discourses of Proclus on the Virgin
to be discussed in chapter two.
61 Matthew Gumpert, Grafting Helen: The Abduction of the Classical Past (Madison: The Uni-
versity of Wisconsin Press, 2001), 3–42. Cf. Erich Auerbach, Mimesis (Princeton: Princeton
University Press, 1953), 3–23 (“Odysseus’ Scar”).
gave two silver baths to Menelaus, and tripods twain, and ten talents of
gold. And besides all this, his wife bestowed on Helen lovely gifts; a golden
distaff did she give, and a silver basket with wheels beneath, and the rims
thereof were finished with gold. This it was that the handmaid Phylo bare
and set beside her, filled with dressed yarn, and across it was laid a distaff
charged with wool of violet blue. So Helen sat her down in the chair, and
beneath was a footstool for the feet. And anon she spake to her lord and
questioned him of each thing.”62
Helen is now associated with the distaff and presented as the omniscient,
untarnished matron wielding the gifts of the unvarying distaff, wool basket,
and wool of violet blue as symbols of her virtue and queenly stature. No longer
does she retain any of the shame warranted by her Trojan escapades. In fact,
she and Menelaus are entertained in the home of Polybus and Alcandre on
their return from Troy and given gifts fit for a virtuous matron. Helen is seated
with her feet upon a footstool and royal violet blue wool is set beside her in
an exquisite basket with a golden distaff laid across her lap. Only then does
she speak and demonstrate her innate ability to foresee future events as she
recognizes Telemachus as Odysseus’ true son.
Of all legendary female figures, Helen is the preeminent seer, a “weaver of
fictions,” whose powers are seductive, dangerous, powerful, poetic, and erotic.
Each of these characteristics could equally be applied to some goddesses, yet
when they are combined in Helen along with her attributes of spindle, distaff,
and loom she becomes the quintessential mortal matron, a woman known for
her inestimable virtue in the true sense of the word. Matthew Gumpert has
pointed out that these characteristics, seemingly diametrically opposite, are
embedded in Helen, and reveal that classical history and legend ought not
to be considered as disparate and compartmentalized as once thought.63 In
fact, “Helen is such a powerful device for understanding culture history: she
reminds us that history is a love story, a tale of desire, jealousy, abandonment,
fidelity, abduction.”64 When Helen weaves the battle tableaux, she has been
abducted and war is commencing, yet when she is mentioned with her distaff,
she has already returned to Menelaus and is even transformed into the guise
of Artemis, thus restoring her chaste matronly stature. Helen’s actions do not
change the stability of the spindle’s iconography. Instead the deviation in her
62 Homer, Odyssey 4.121–122.

63 Gumpert, Grafting Helen, 253.
64 Gumpert, Grafting Helen, 253.
42 chapter 1
behaviour from the symbol’s constant model is emphasized when she returns
to her husband and takes up her matronly spindle and distaff as opposed to the
loom. Helen is a pivotal model and an excellent exemplar for female assimila-
tion of ordinary attributes like the spindle and loom. Her tale perpetuates the
narrative of women’s roles as wives and mothers, spinners of their own destiny.
This rich iconography remained consistent into late antiquity as Mary the righ-
teous, betrothed Annunciate developed with the same virtuous symbols in her
hands.
3.2 Penelope
Another Homeric female pertinent to this discussion is Penelope at her famous
loom. Penelope, the clever, beautiful wife of Odysseus, is also the cousin to
Helen of Troy. She is famous, not for spinning, but for weaving, although she
less famously spins upon Odysseus’ return. When Odysseus is delayed for ten
years after the end of the Trojan War, several less than worthy suitors insist that
she marry one of them. To avoid an undesirable marriage, Penelope devises a
scheme to prevent her marrying until she finishes weaving a large burial shroud
for her father-in-law, Laertes. Loyal Penelope is shown at her loom in a fresco
from the Hypogeum of the Aurelii; weaving all day long, and at night removing
the threads that she has woven.
Penelope also takes up her spindle and distaff to spin, an act very different
from weaving, but not until she is reunited with Odysseus. She waits to spin
until her marital state is once again secure, a clear marker that the spindle
was more than just a symbol of appropriate and normative femininity. Rather,
it was specifically associated with the social and sexual role of the matron.
Penelope’s devotion was not lost on the Roman world. Juvenal in the second
Satire uses Penelope to define gender differences and model good wifery.65 In a
way similar to Helen, Penelope’s actions also demonstrate some variation to her
circumstances. Her behavior indicates to the reader and viewer her sovereign
power to alter her future and beguile those who would take that power. She can
appease and charm her suitors with her industry during the day and then weep
for Odysseus as she unravels Laertes’ shroud at night. She can “spin wiles”66 and
be deceptive, but all of her efforts are to maintain Odysseus’ household, even
her own household as an idealized materfamilias.
65 Juvenal, Satire, trans. Susanna Morton Braund, Loeb Classical Library (Cambridge: Har-
vard University Press, 2004), ii.51–64.
66 Homer, Odyssey 19.137.
3.3 Arete
Besides Helen and Penelope, another mortal woman is depicted in the Odyssey
seated at her hearth, twirling sea-purple wool from her distaff. Queen Arete is
the wife of Alkinoos, king of the Phaeacians, and the woman whom Odysseus
must convince to help him on his journey home. Athena herself tells Odysseus
of Arete’s masterful intelligence and the honour given her by her household,
her husband, and her kingdom.
No other lady in the world, no other mistress of a man’s household, is

honoured as our mistress is, and loved, by her own children, by Alkinoos,
and by the people. When she walks in the town they murmur and gaze,
as though she were a goddess. No grace or wisdom fails in her; indeed just
men in quarrels come to her for equity. Supposing then, she looks upon
you kindly, the chances are that you shall see your friends under your own
roof, in your father’s country.67
In the Homeric epics, Arete, Helen and Penelope, though never linked as a triad,
typify a kind of mortal equivalent to the Three Fates in their wisdom and impact
on the larger epic picture, so much so that even the Olympians recognize their
acumen. They “possess an understanding of life that other Homeric characters
never achieve. Their power comes from their intelligence and their ability to
see the true meaning of events … Interestingly enough, these three women are
not only the most powerful mortal female characters in Homer but also the
only women associated with spinning.”68 Arete never weaves and Helen and
Penelope cease their weaving and again take up their spindles when domestic
harmony has been restored; all spin when their matronly status and security
are assured.
3.4 Lucretia
Finally, the legendary account of Lucretia dates to the sixth century bc and
remained popular into late antiquity. Both the Roman historian Livy (b. 59 bc
to d. 17ad) and Augustine of Hippo (b. 354ad to d. 430 ad) wrote and com-
mented on different facets of the story.69 Late antique references to the leg-
67 Homer, Odyssey 7.71–81.

69 Livy, Book i, trans. B.O. Foster, Loeb Classical Library (Cambridge: Harvard University
Press, 1967), lvii–lviii, 197–203. Augustine, The City of God, i.19. (npnf1 2: 13–14).
44 chapter 1
end by Augustine exemplify the continued patriarchal perception of dutiful

matronly behaviour. Lucretia’s spinning reveals her as a loyal and virtuous
matron despite attempts to subvert those attributes.
Lucretia was the wife of Lucius Tarquinius Collatinus, the principal actor in
the Roman siege of Ardea. While away on campaign, the soldiers boast about
the virtues of their wives and then set out to prove their fidelities by returning
to Rome unannounced. All the wives are found dancing and revelling with
other men except Lucretia, who is at home spinning. Sextus Tarquinius, son
of the tyrant king and friend to Collatinus, returns to find Lucretia alone in her
house and indulges his lust by blackmailing her. He demands that she secretly
yields to him or face publicly dishonouring her husband’s household. If she
refuses his advances, Tarquinius threatens to kill her and a male slave and lay
their naked bodies together, thereby accusing her of adultery. Interestingly,
Lucretia’s fidelity and virtue are the very attributes that incited Collatinus’
pride and Tarquinius’ lust, underscoring the powerful perception of female
behaviour and its accompanying symbolism. Lucretia does comply sexually
with Tarquinius, then seeks the pledge of her husband and father to revenge her
honour, and finally commits suicide. The resulting revolt against the Tarquins
ushered in the Roman Republic in 509bc, making Lucretia with her spindle a
pivotal character in the very establishment of Roman order.
Significantly, it was Augustine’s discussion of Lucretia in the City of God (413–
426)70 that helped affect a change in the way fifth-century women asserted
their own spirituality outside the ascetic rigor promoted by Tertullian and
Jerome.71 Augustine referred to Livy’s account of the suicide of Lucretia, which
was still regarded as an exemplum of honour for virtuous matrons, even four
centuries after it was written. Livy’s Lucretia conveyed Augustan moral con-
cerns regarding marriage, chastity, and procreation as well as the implications
of physical and social honour upon the patriarchal household. Diana Moses has
convincingly argued that Livy was evoking contemporary motifs in that Lucre-
tia is initially found “doing just what Augustus wished his women folk to be
known for: spinning.”72 Lucretia’s suicide was the only acceptable remedy for
70 Augustine, The City of God, trans. Henry Bettensen (London: Penguin Books, 2003), 5–47.
71 Cf. Tertullian, Ad martyras 4; De exhortatione castitatis 13; De monogamia 17. Jerome, Ad
Jovinian 1.46, 49.
72 Diana C. Moses, “Livy’s Lucretia and the Validity of Coerced Consent,” in Consent and Coer-
cion to Sex and Marriage in Ancient and Medieval Societies, ed. Angeliki Laiou (Washington,
d.c.: Dumbarton Oaks, 1993), 72. Cf. Suetonius, Augustus 64.2 and 73.1. Moses indicates
that Livy is making a rather acerbic comment on Augustus’ attempt to legislate moral-
her own coerced consent to Tarquin’s advances per the moral code of conduct.
These same issues were troublesome in Augustine’s day and throughout the
fifth century. Indeed, in its own day the moral epic of Lucretia was subjectively
appreciated for its ancient message, yet within the social sphere it resonated
as legally unjust and potentially damning as these same issues became reality
and were now concerns of Christian legislation.
Augustine was confronted with issues of human sexuality, rape, and suicide
following the Visigothic sack of Rome in 410 and effectually refuted the case
for virginity or martyrdom as the only defence of sexual purity.73 Dennis Trout
argues that Augustine took a position against Lucretia’s suicide as necessarily
forfeiting its exemplary worth because the act was motivated by pride rather
than piety.74 He asserts that Augustine subverted the Roman social concept
of individual and civic purity by dismantling the Roman construct of honour
and shame.75 For Augustine, Lucretia, found with her ladies at her loom, was
the metaphor for sexual purity, the model of pudicitia and the dutiful wife.
But by her public suicide she proved her purity in a prideful manner, an act
reproachful to the point of undoing her modesty. Motifs of weaving, spinning,
and cloth-working were still effective as signifiers of the chaste and modest
wife in the fifth century, just as they had been throughout antiquity. What
changed was the way that upright women were considered within social and
religious contexts: no longer were they mere proprietary objects of honour
or shame within the patriarchal order, but their own sovereign and virtuous
stature deemed them a priori of laudable rank within late antique Christianity.
ity, an issue that becomes exacerbated under patristic scrutiny, with some sympathetic
commentary by Augustine.
73 Dennis Trout, “Re-Textualizing Lucretia: Cultural Subversion in the City of God,” Journal
of Early Christian Studies, vol. 2, no. 1 (Spring 1994): 63. Cf. Augustine, De civ. Dei 1.16.
74 Volitional death as a response to rape was negated by Augustine as a sin and he argues that
“the locus of sexual purity was the mind not the body and castitas could not be destroyed
by another’s unilateral libidinous act to which no mental consent was given.” Trout, “Re-
textualizing Lucretia,” 63.
75 Trout, “Re-Textualizing Lucretia,” 69–70.
46 chapter 1
4 Spinning Iconography amongst Elites and Non-elites in Roman

Society
4.1 Livia Drusilla, an Elite Model

Lucretia’s story is echoed in the account of Livia Drusilla weaving the home-
spun toga as the wife of Caesar Augustus.76 The notion of Livia spinning Augus-
tus’ togas underscored her public image as the paragon of feminine virtue and
power in the early Empire. Even before her marriage to Octavian, Livia was
keenly aware of public perception and effectively used her name to conjure
the fame of her familial antecedents, the Livii Drusii.77 Her nomenclature con-
nected her to the Republican past of Rome, while her children, the Emperor
Tiberius in particular, connected her to Rome’s Imperial future. Likewise, tales
of Livia spinning the household allotments of wool with her maidservants
advertised her associations with faithful matrons of Rome’s past.
In fact, “the ideal Roman matron was portrayed as one who was chaste and
a good manager of the household, and it can be demonstrated that successful
imperial women conformed to these ideals. Livia’s auctoritas emanated from
her carefully maintained public image as a traditional Roman matron who
embodied pudicitia, the characteristic which combined the notions of mod-
esty and chastity with matronly duty and domesticity.”78 By visibly creating and
carefully establishing their reputation as ideal matrons, imperial women and
others were able to wield their power and influence on the emperor, the impe-
rial court, and society at large.
76 Suetonius, Augustus, 73 and Livy, History of Rome 1.57, 9–10, as cited by Eve D’Ambra, “The
Cult of Virtues and the Funerary Relief of Ulpia Epigone,” in Roman Art in Context: An
Anthology, ed. Eve D’Ambra (Englewood Cliffs, n.j.: Prentice Hall, 1993), 109.
77 Eric Huntsman, “Livia Before Octavian,” Ancient Society 39 (2009): 124–129.
78 Marianne E. Wardle, “The Construction of a Dynastic Ideal: The Second Century Augustae
in the Guise of the Goddess Ceres” (ma thesis, Brigham Young University, 1997), 66. See
also Eric D. Huntsman, “The Family and Property of Livia Drusilla” (PhD Diss., University
of Pennsylvania, 1997), 89–90: “Above all, however, a Roman matron was seen as the
embodiment of female chastity and rectitude. Within the confines of the house, Livia
was known to be a paragon of traditional Roman virtues … the atrium of the house was
the traditional location of the matron’s loom; since it was also the site of the morning
salutation and the public business of the house, many visitors [of Augustus] could witness
Livia’s open performance of a matron’s conventional duties. She perpetuated an image of
Roman domesticity, the lanificium at home, that had been immortalized by the story of
Lucretia (Liv. 1.57). Assisted by her stepdaughter and servants, Livia reportedly wove the
fabric and made all of the clothing for the imperial family (Suet. Aug. 78).”
Scholars have widely acknowledged Livia’s powerful use of portrait images

and familial connections to associate herself with the Republican virtues of
pietas and concordia, presenting a visual and symbolic ideal for the mothers
and wives of Rome.79 Advancing her reputation as the industriously spinning
wife within the imperial household served a similar purpose. Of course, Livia
had scores of inherited slaves, clients, and property that met her every need and
catered to what must have been a life of luxury.80 She did not need to put on
the guise of the lowly lanifica, yet Livia, presumably sanctioned by Augustus,
chose to assume the task of spinning above all others as the primary signifier of
domestic virtue and matronly behaviour. Even if Livia never touched a spindle
or handled a rove of wool, she also did nothing to prevent such tales being
circulated as fact.
4.2 Spinning in Non-elite Practice: Spinning, Marriage, and Roman

Continuity
Although there may seem to be a relative paucity of iconographic evidence for
the spindle and distaff in art prior to the fifth century, in fact, there remain
sufficient examples ranging in date from the second to the fourth century to
present and establish the enduring presence of these symbols. Skill in weaving
and cloth making were ideals that were desirable in brides-to-be, and women
would openly work wool to demonstrate their practical skill and moral purity.81
Wool and the implements of cloth production were “featured in rituals of ven-
erable antiquity: uncombed wool was wound on the doorways of the husband’s
house to welcome the bride, so deeply ingrained was the ideal of the spindle
with the bride’s role in increasing the wealth of her husband’s house.”82
Wool was an integral part of the antique Roman marriage ritual. Roman cus-
toms connected with the presentation of brides provide ample support for the
use of wool, spindle, and distaff in embodying the ideological and material ele-
ments of marriage. Although our knowledge of the wedding ceremony is pieced
together from several sources, there are certain activities that are specifically
relevant here.83 The night before the wedding, young brides wore a tunica recta
that they had woven on an old-fashioned loom. This custom was designed to
79 Huntsman, “The Family,” passim.

80 Huntsman, “Livia,” 135–142.
81 D’Ambra, Roman Women, 59–60.
82 D’Ambra, Roman Women, 60.
83 For details on the bridal costume, types of wool and dyes used and the symbolism of
fertility associated with marriage garments, see Pliny the Elder, Natural History 6.201, 9.134
as well as Festus 112.6 as cited in D’Ambra, Roman Women, 70.
48 chapter 1
demonstrate the new bride’s virtuous attributes and housekeeping skills. The
wedding ceremony was the celebratory rite that introduced the couple to the
community and initiated the couple to their civic duties and expectations of
marriage.84 Eve D’Ambra concisely describes wedding customs and rituals that
included elements of wool and woolworking implements:
The costume … suggested the bride’s fertility and chastity: her tunic was
tied with a belt of pure ewe’s wool and fastened by a particular knot
(called “Herculean”) that was difficult to undo … The bride’s unveiling
occurred as the couple stood face to face. Then the bride may have uttered
the ritual words “Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia” (“where you are the male, I am the
female”), to declare herself the wife of her husband in a marriage evoked
as a union of two complementary halves (or this could have occurred later
when she entered the bridegroom’s house). The couple’s right hands were
joined in observance of their obligations and trust (a marriage contract
was often signed and sealed at the wedding). After the couple made a
sacrifice and shared a special cake of grain, the wedding feast probably
took place. The procession of the bride from her house to that of her
husband (deductio in domum mariti) provided a spectacle that served as a
wedding announcement. Led by three young boys who had living mothers
(probably considered favourable for the bride’s anticipated maternity),
the bride in all her finery, and with ubiquitous spindles or distaffs in hand
instead of a bouquet, passed through the streets.85
Seneca metaphorically described the marriage union as he evocatively de-

scribes the weaving of cloth:
Here is Posidonius, one of the men to whom philosophy is, in my opinion,

most indebted: he first describes how one twists certain threads, how one
pulls up others, soft and irregular skein, how then the canvas [tela], with
the help of hanging weights, it is pulled into a straight warp [stamen],
how the woof [substamen], introduced to soften the tension of the warp
[tramae (sic)] that squeezes it on both sides, is forced to couple with it
[coire cogatur] and to be married to it [iungi] by the pressure of the blade
[spatha].86

86 Seneca, Letters to Lucilius 14.90.20, as cited in John Scheid and Jesper Svenbro, The Craft of
Zeus: Myths of Weaving and Fabric (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1996), 89.
The nuptial cloth used for the conubium, or passage of the bride and groom
under the same woven cloth, was a tangible object meant to mimic the dex-
trarum iunctio, “that takes place under the cloth,” thus repeating the physical,
even sexual, intertwining of the warp and woof.
The newly formed household was a complex entity that acted as the locus
for family life as well as for producing goods and services that ranged from the
simple to the extravagant, depending on the size of the household. Household
increase and prosperity were not only tied to material production, but also
to notions of marital concord, the enterprise of raising children, and main-
taining household property. Late antique domesticity focused on the work,
materials, and dealings that occurred within the domus. Recent thought on the
late ancient household has revealed that there were varying degrees of privacy
within the design and function of the interior space of the house.87 It is sig-
nificant that the matron, her daughters, and servants may have set up looms
in the open-air atriums so that those visiting the house could readily observe
large-scale, overt industry within the household.88 Two beam looms used com-
monly during this period could be large or small depending on the material
being woven. To disturb or remove a large loom was inconvenient, and, in elite
households, large rooms and even whole workshops were not uncommon.
Strong didactic and iconographic precedents for spinning spread to all parts
of life and to all classes of households. Wool was also long recognized in the
Roman world as having sacred and religious functions. Priests’ garments were
required to be made of pure wool rovings, fillets, or bands that were “tied
around the heads of sacrificial animals, sacred trees, altars, temple pillars and
tombs as well as the heads of priestesses and priests,” indicating that these
objects were sacra, pure and untainted by the profane.89 A fourth-century
casket recovered from the Esquiline Hill and held by the British Museum
demonstrates this practice. It features eight muses and a female figure seated
underneath a tree holding a large woolen fillet, also attached to the tree. The
muses are embossed around the sides of the casket between fluted columns

89 Sebesta, “Spinning and Weaving,” 3. Further, Sebesta points out that in pagan rites, “Water
and wool were used in the same rituals … The cleansed and purified initiate in mystery
cults was made to stand, barefooted on a woollen fleece. Woollen fleece miraculously
comes from a living animal and is thus associated with life, health, strength and a correct
relationship with the gods.” Objects like the Corbridge Lanx and the Muse Casket, both at
the British Museum, have spinning and wool imagery that relates directly to pagan ritual
and the sacred nature of the task and material.
50 chapter 1
and arches. Each holds her appropriate attribute and has a feather in her hair,
trophies of victory in a musical contest with the Sirens. A separate female figure
appears in a round medallion on top of the casket’s dome and is separate from
the figures of the muses. She is depicted in a three-quarter seated position
as she adds to a garland from a large wool basket at her side. Wool is linked
here with sacred ritual, perhaps in association with marriage, married life,
and religious devotion. Previously mis-interpreted as the ninth Muse90 she
is portrayed in a manner unrelated to the Muse figures who appear around
the main body of the casket. Though its use is not documented, the casket
does contain a bronze plate with five circular compartments holding four
cylindrical silver boxes and a narrow necked flask in the central position.
Presumably, these containers, perhaps fashioned for the wife of a great family,
held perfumes, cosmetics or ointments. In fact, this casket may have been a
marriage gift like the Projecta Casket, with the figure in the centre acting as a
portrait or model for matronly pious behaviour.91
The sacred nature of wool and its association with marriage has been too
easily overlooked in studies of late antique art, precisely because of its quo-
tidian nature. Yet the spindle, distaff, wool, and cloth production were integral
elements within the Roman household and aided in the perpetuation of its
ideologies even beyond its boundaries. Wool was important in the state sanc-
tioned ritual and function of the flamen Dialis or the highest priest of Jupiter
in Rome. The flaminica Dialis, the wife-priestess of the flamen, was the model
lanifica, working wool and weaving a special cloak for her husband. Servius
writes, “In the ancient pontifical religion, it was stated that the garment worn
for the consecration of the flamen and referred to as the laena had to be woven
by the flaminica.”92 The marriage of the flamen and flaminica was apotropaic
in nature. It represented and guaranteed the fertility of Roman marriages and
when one of the couple died, a new flamen-flaminica pair had to be conse-
crated.93
90 O.M. Dalton, Catalogue of Early Christian Antiquities and Objects from the Christian East
(Oxford: Horace Hart, 1901), 64–66.
91 It is noteworthy that the central figure on the back of the Projecta Casket carries a casket
suspended by chains like those on the Muse Casket.
92 Pseudo-Servius, Commentary to the Aeneid 4.262, in Scheid and Svenbro, Craft of Zeus, 93.
93 Judith Lynn Sebesta, “Symbolism in the Costume of the Roman Woman,” in The World of
Roman Costume, eds. Judith Lynn Sebesta and Larissa Bonafante (Madison: University of
Wisconsin Press, 2001), 47.
The protective properties of wool were considered talismanic in protecting

children’s health, and mothers would dress their children in the toga prae-
texta, a woollen garment with a purple border. Quintilian refers to the protec-
tive nature of this border when he writes, “I swear to you upon that sacred
praetexta—by which we make sacred and venerable the weakness of child-
hood.”94 The purple border was woven first as the praetexta making a pro-
tective border within the cloth and creating a sacred perimeter.95 The purple
colour of the praetexta was associated with blood and symbolically protected
nascent life, thus it was appropriate for babies, children and pregnant women,
in defending them against any evil spirits.96 Childbirth and childhood were nat-
urally dangerous and unpredictable times of life, so an act, such as weaving
and wearing the praetexta, was a warranted and reasonable measure to which
women gave great attention.
Spinning, as opposed to weaving, was a simple, mobile everyday task, and
wool could be worked alongside the looms in the open-air atrium, in the pub-
lic marketplace, or even in the most private areas of the house. Spinning wool,
unlike weaving, was exclusively a female task that was often accomplished in
conjunction with other responsibilities. Spinning could be done while chil-
dren were underfoot or alongside other tasks. In upper class, urban house-
holds, it was not uncommon for wool-weighers and weavers to be hired male
professionals, but spinning was a reserved task, in all households, for women
including the matron, female family members, and servants.97 In short, the
Roman ideological precedent for the virtuous matron, from young bride-to-
be to materfamilias, was intrinsically connected to the spinning and working
of wool. There is not a single instance in late antiquity where these same
motifs are historically associated with the ascetic denial of female sexuality
or the renunciation of family life. Rather, devotion to one’s matronly role was
necessary in maintaining familial honour or demonstrating pudicitia. Women
wielded powerful influence as they embraced the symbols of spindle and
distaff. This was the case whether women engaged in the literal act of spin-
ning or merely employed the symbolic spindle and distaff as representations
of their strength and industry within the constructs of family life.
94 Quintilian, The Orator’s Education, trans. Donald A. Russell, Loeb Classical Library (Cam-
bridge: Harvard University Press, 2002), 340.
95 Sebesta, “Symbolism,” 47.
96 Sebesta, “Symbolism,” 47. Cf. Eva Wünderlich, Die Bedeutung der röten Farbe in Kultus der
Griechen und Römer (Giessen: A. Töpelmann, 1925), 90.
52 chapter 1
Household management was the domain of the Roman materfamilias and

the matron of the early Christian household. Both literary and archaeologi-
cal evidence clearly associates the virtues of industry, thrift, and piety with
the woman spinning wool or weaving at her loom. Morality and social mores
became less elite98 following the second century, not because family values or
relationships changed so much as that our sources reveal a greater emphasis on
qualities such as pudicitia, castitas, and on faithfulness within marriage. Within
the household these mores were exemplified by the acts and implements of
wool-working.99 Ancient virtues were no longer reserved only for the aristoc-
racy, as with Livia spinning wool for Augustus’s homemade toga; instead there
was widespread utilization of idealized virtues in the images and inscriptions
chosen by ordinary people from both major cities and provinces of the late
ancient Christian East.
Certainly by the fifth century, the spinning motif was a well-established
trope of non-Christian funerary epitaphs and sculptural exempla, connect-
ing the honourific Roman memorial with later Christian adaptations. It is not
unusual to find spindles, distaffs, wool baskets, and other fibre-working items
depicted within funerary contexts. Palmyrene busts and other funerary sculp-
tures depicting the likenesses of deceased matrons often included spindles,
balls or roves of wool, and wool baskets. These portrait sculptures were used
to seal the loculi housing the deceased in the cemeteries of Palmyra, Syria.
Palmyra was a Romanized and cosmopolitan caravan city in Syria along a
strategic trade route that linked Rome with Persia, India, and China.100 Second-
century funerary busts like the memorial bust of Tamma (fig. 13) and the bust
of Aqmat held at the British Museum show veiled women, all holding spindles
and/or distaffs.
Each of these women is dressed as a typical Roman matron from wealthier
households, as indicated by their prominent display of jewellery. These women,
who were elite enough to be physically memorialized, also prominently display
spindles, further articulating both their status and their adherence to an ide-
alized type of femininity. Their affluence was likely due to their own familial
networks, industry, and management of the household.
98 Evans Grubbs, Law, 339.

100 Cynthia Finlayson, “Mutʾa Marriage in the Roman Near East: The Evidence from Palmyra,
Syria,” in Beth Alpert Nakhai, ed., The World of Women in the Ancient and Classical Near
East (Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishers, 2008), 99–138.
figure 13 Funerary portrait bust, Tamma, British Museum,

London, second century ad
5 The Attributes of Virtue: Spinning in Proverbs and the Jewish

Tradition
Although the primary focus of this study does not lie with the Jewish tradition
per se, it is nevertheless relevant and useful to understand the rich influence
of both Jewish and Hellenic precedents in the iconography of the spinning
Annunciate. Patristic sources have long acted as evidence for fourth- and fifth-
century assimilation of Jewish and Hellenic cultural influence.101 It is easy to
draw parallels between the biblical narratives in art, while at the same time
finding kinship with the artistic style of the late ancient Greek and Roman
101 Sebastian Brock, “Jewish Traditions in Syriac Sources,” Journal of Jewish Studies 30:2 (1979):
212–232. Cf. Ute Possekel, Evidence of Greek Philosophical Concepts in the Writings of
Ephrem the Syrian (Leuven: Peeters, 1999), 1–12.
54 chapter 1
worlds. Scenes of Old Testament salvation themes featuring Adam and Eve,
Jonah, and Daniel are given pride of place in Christian contexts without con-
testation of continuity with former traditions. In fact, within the Syriac sources,
Sebastian Brock favours an unhellenised cultural context for the Christian writ-
ers of late antiquity.102 Old Testament references to idealised behaviour lauded
the proficient industry of the household found in Proverbs, concepts that car-
ried over into the apocryphal account of the young betrothed Mary as she takes
up her assignment to spin the veil for the Jewish temple.
The woman of wise virtue from Proverbs 31:10–31 epitomizes the idealised
relationship between women, labour, and the household within late Roman
Judaism, a rich heritage that was transmitted to the Christian tradition. The
biblical passage praises the valiant matron who spins and prepares flax and
wool for her household and herself. She distributes the excess of her labour as
benevolent charity to those in need, and contributes to the economic standing
of her household by weaving linen and selling it to merchants. She wisely uses
her profits to buy land and plant a vineyard as a perpetual investment crop
to be harvested each year. Her textile work profits her in both a physical and
symbolic manner. She is creative, innovative, wise, and prosperous, but also
well established in her sovereign role as materfamilias.
In contrast, early rabbinic texts that correlate with late antique dates place
little value on the economic aspects of female labour. Instead they tend to focus
their discussion on the spindle as a symbol of appropriate wifely behaviour
and devotion to one’s husband.103 The textual evidence tends to reduce the
whole nature of the Jewish matron to the realm of sexual commitment; a wife’s
labour exclusively displays her sexual fidelity to her husband and protects her
reputation within society. Miriam Peskowitz has suggested that Palestinian
rabbis were also linking Judaic culture to that of Rome: “attaching the spindle
as the sign of women’s laboring bodies (controlled in all aspects by their
husbands), rabbis use their representations of Jewish women to show their
similarity with something they imagined as ‘Rome.’ ”104
Textile production in Roman Palestine was commonplace. In fact, it was as
widespread as grape production for wine and olive production for oil. More-
over, trades tended to be practiced by whole families together and were passed
102 Sebastian Brock, The Luminous Eye: The Spiritual World Vision of Saint Ephrem, Cistercian
Studies Series 124 (Kalamazoo, mi: Cistercian Publications, 1992), 23–51.
103 Peskowitz, Spinning Fantasies, 95–107. Peskowitz refers specifically to Mishnah Ketubot
5.5–5.9.
104 Peskowitz, Spinning Fantasies, 107.
on through generations.105 Material and labour resources were vital to the late
Roman household in providing for the needs of its members and in producing
a surplus for a wage or trade. Studying the household economy has been a sec-
ondary interest to historians, primarily because there is so little firm evidence
to support anecdotal evidence during late antiquity.106 Yet, within the ancient
Judaic texts, we find details that confirm that the spindle was a stable symbol
indicating more than sexual control and repression. Even when women act in
ways considered outside the traditional domestic realm, the symbolic role of
the spindle never alters—instead, it is the individual who rejects or casts aside
the spindle to act in impious or disloyal ways.
While Peskowitz has rightly noted the trends in rabbinic literature in Roman
Palestine, the bias in her assessment of the material drives her conclusion that
the spindle within early Jewish practice symbolized “not a utopia, but a con-
cession.”107 She has interpreted the spindle as a nostalgic tool of a selectively
imagined past. Further she believes that the mundane nature of women’s work
was meant to condition women according to a patriarchal agenda. Though
Peskowitz admits that there are direct ties between the iconography of spin-
ning and traditional family structures, the centre point of her argument clearly
states that the “family is not an inevitable social structure” and its forms and
varieties offered women an experience that was at best ambivalent and at worst
negating and oppressive.108 Of all the social institutions that historians have
studied, the family is the most pervasive and the most stable, yet Peskowitz
underplays it in her analysis of the spindle. The labours and feminine domes-
ticity of wives and mothers mattered to the economy in general and the house-
hold in particular, and the symbolism of their work extended far beyond the
realms of sexual control.
105 Miriam Peskowitz, “Family/ies in Antiquity: Evidence from Tannaitic Literature and Ro-
man Galilean Architecture,” in The Jewish Family in Antiquity, ed. S. Cohen (Atlanta:
Scholars Press, 1993), 9–36.
106 The Cairo Genizah, a collection of manuscript fragments that address many aspects
of Jewish life from the ninth to the thirteenth centuries, does provide a large amount
of textual evidence for later centuries. The finds at Oxyrynchus, Egypt, feature textual
evidence of daily life along with literary texts and fragments of Christian texts. Apart from
Oxyrynchus Papyrus xiv 1737, a weaver’s account from the second or third century ad,
there is little material evidence that survives which addresses what must have been a large
industry during late antiquity.
56 chapter 1
We find indications of the intrinsic value placed upon the goods and prod-
ucts of textile production in the Mishnaic law which requires lost wool shear-
ings, bundles of combed flax, and strips of purple wool to be publicly an-
nounced in order that the rightful owner might have a chance to lay claim to
their property. Within the Jewish context, a person’s work was tied to their sta-
tus and character, not only as proof of their social respectability, but specifically
to connect their labour with their respect for God.
For Jewish men, the labour par excellence desired by God was to study the
Torah; for women, it was to be an industrious, capable matron, who could
take up spinning with her hands and wield the virtue of her mind as part
of her devotional worldview. In Mishnah Ketubot 5.5, Rabbi Eliezer refers to
the spindle “as the un-removable marker of female domesticity, the task that
cannot be traded away.”109 The spindle and distaff were highly favoured as
ageless symbols of female creativity, industry and virtue that could not be
usurped by men. An example of this stability is illustrated in the cursing of
Joab in 2Samuel 3:29. Upon hearing of the murder of Abner, son of Ner, who
was to be David’s servant, David curses the murderer Joab, “May the house of
Joab never be without someone suffering from a discharge or an eruption, and
may it never be without a male who handles the spindle, or a male slain by the
sword, or a male lacking bread.”110 In short, the spindle was reserved for women,
and men are emasculated and cursed if this distinct gendered boundary is not
maintained. In late antique Judaism, categories of work were distinguished
according to gender. Both men and women wove textile material, though with
differing looms and tools, but spinning was a task specific to women. Apart
from the symbolic element of work, Jewish women participated in various
kinds of work as a means of earning a wage and contributing to household
finances.
They worked as merchants, selling textiles, bread, calves, clothing and

olives. Women worked as artisans and producers. They baked bread, pre-
pared oils and wines … spun yarn and wove yarn into cloth. Women man-
ufactured wool and flax, and did other kinds of service work, including
wet nursing and midwifery, textile laundering, teaching, hairdressing and
innkeeping.111

110 2 Samuel 3:29. Peskowitz’s translation recognizes the feminizing of staff or crutch and
associates the Hebrew mahazîq ba-pelek with the Ugaritic plk and Akkadian pilakku
meaning, as well as Proverbs 31:19, to signify the distaff and/or spindle.
With such a vast range of work available to women, it is hard to imagine that
women’s work was not weighted according to its own merit as opposed to being
merely perfunctory or to keep women out of trouble.112
In addition to Proverbs 31, where the virtuous wife is capable, industrious,
wealthy, and wise, we find another compelling use of the spinning motif from
the world of the Old Testament in Exodus 35. This section of Exodus details
how the Israelites are commanded by the Lord to build a tabernacle in the
wilderness after the pattern shown to Moses so that the Lord might dwell with
them. The account in Exodus defines the dimensions and materials to be used
in building the tabernacle as well as the specific materials and attributes of
all its furnishings. Chapter 35 is unique in that the people are called upon
to contribute materials and services for the tabernacle as part of a sanctified
offering required by the Lord.
4Moses spake unto all the congregation of the children of Israel, saying,
This is the thing which the Lord commanded, saying, 5Take ye from
among you an offering unto the Lord: whosoever is of a willing heart, let
him bring it, an offering of the Lord; gold, and silver, and brass, 6and blue,
and purple, and scarlet, and fine linen, and goats’ hair … 10and every wise
hearted (skillful) among you shall come, and make all that the Lord hath
commanded.
20And all the congregation of the children of Israel departed from the
presence of Moses. 21And they came, every one whose heart stirred him
up, and every one whom his spirit made willing, and they brought the
Lord’s offering to the work of the tabernacle of the congregation, and for
all his service, and for the holy garments. 22And they came, both men and
women, as many as were willing hearted …
25And all the women that were wise hearted (skillful) did spin with
their hands, and brought that which they had spun, both of blue, and of
purple, and of scarlet, and of fine linen. 26And all the women whose heart
stirred them up in wisdom spun goats’ hair …
29The children of Israel brought a willing offering unto the Lord, every
man and woman, whose heart made them willing to bring for all manner
of work, which the Lord had commanded to be made by the hand of
Moses.113

113 Ex. 35:4, 5, 6, 10, 20, 21, 22, 29 (kjv).
58 chapter 1
Here, women whose hearts prompted them to spin for the tabernacle are
commanded by the Lord to do so. The congregation is asked to sacrifice, to
contribute, to literally be vested participants in the Lord’s physical epiphany
amongst them. There is no ordering of social classes, no exclusive task-making
here. These wise and skillful women spin blue, purple and scarlet, as well as
fine linen and goats’ hair; all are required and all have a purpose. The emphasis
on the willingness of the contributor and the wisdom of their heart suggests
that those holy attributes were similarly valued by the Lord as were the works
of their hands.
The account in Exodus provides an appropriate precedent for the apoc-
ryphal Annunciation setting found in the Protevangelium of James.114 The taber-
nacle and temple provide the backdrop for the holy interaction between heav-
en and earth, both in the Lord visiting His tabernacle and in the pronounce-
ment of Christ’s Incarnation at the Annunciation. The act of spinning is the
perfect motif associated with wise-hearted women who obey, act, please, and
know God. The Exodus precedent provides clear evidence that spinning was a
task done by women as an act of holiness and sanctification in their lives. The
task of spinning may, in fact, be mundane, but a willing, wise-hearted woman
who took up her spindle and distaff as symbolic of her domestic, intellectual,
sexual, material, and spiritual virtue established a familiar and powerful topos
for Christian women.
6 Conclusions
For the Roman state, spinning imagery was associated with social and moral
stability; it represented capable industry, fertility, chastity, power, even the
virtue of pudicitia within the Roman household.115 However, spinning was
not simply symbolic of feminine attributes, nor was it the assigned trope of
female domestic servitude. Spinning was valued for what it produced; not
114 Old Testament precedents in symbolic art were familiar to Christians as demonstrated in
the well-known salvific types of Daniel in the lions’ den, Abraham and Isaac, Moses and
the children of Israel, Job’s trials and Jonah. These typological precedents were commonly
found in funerary contexts such as catacomb painting, sarcophagi, and objects like the
Brescia Casket. The Exodus example with the Israelites travelling in the wilderness after
their deliverance from Pharoah may not have been readily available in texts outside of the
Holy Land, but Jewish converts could be familiar with the adornment of the tabernacle.
115 Rebecca Langlands, Sexual Morality in Ancient Rome (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2006), 37–77.
only finished thread for textile production, but status and influence for those
who wielded the spindle and distaff. Spinning also offered protection and
apotropaic or amuletic power to those who spun and who wore the work of the
spinner’s hand.116 Further, spinning was part of the daily practice and ritual that
accompanied young girls as they matured to womanhood.117 It was an integral
part of the marriage tradition, and was a symbol designating young women as
marriageable and qualified to run a household. Besides the pagan precedents,
the primary role of the wise and industrious matron is also established within
the Jewish tradition that came to saturate the art of the eastern Christianity.
Again, the popularity of the spindle and distaff typically associated married
women with civic strength, fidelity, fertility, and household position.118
Spinning possessed a certain authority in late antiquity that was maintained
within the Christian context. Archetypes and myth helped to foster the ideal-
ization of this motif, but it was the realia of the spindle and distaff that provided
broad access to the divine through the act of spinning. It is this household task
that ordered history, myth, and scripture into a unified Christian female iden-
tity and represented an efficacious and capacious display of pious behaviour.
In the case of the Annunciation, it is the act of spinning that precedes the
divine-human interaction and God’s incarnation. Women who wielded spin-
ning implements, and used them for the benefit of themselves and others,
accessed creative powers common to human experience and elicited divine
attention through sacred intercession.
Even with precedents as powerful as goddesses and as legendary as Helen,
spinning within the late antique Christian context has been relatively neglect-
ed, understated, and associated with the narrative of female subordination
by patriarchal agendas.119 Iconography of the virtuous female and the tools
of spindle and distaff were site signifiers where meaning was created and
remembered. Meaning was embedded into the spindle as a symbol and as
a tool—passing the characteristics of fidelity, creativity, industry, modesty,
piety, and holy femininity to those who adopted its power and its use. To
separate oneself literally or symbolically from the spindle was to reject those
same characteristics. Spinning imagery and practice were part of quotidian
affairs, yet they also had associations with extraordinary events and divine
interventions that could not be treated casually or dismissed as mundane or
meaningless. The spinning motif gave women an iconography that was visually
116 Sebesta, “Symbolism,” 47.

118 Pantelia, “Spinning,” 69.
119 Peskowitz, Spinning Fantasies, 27–48.
60 chapter 1
accessible to them. Matrons used this symbol to signify their capable nature
and strength in ways that were notable, remembered, and revered. It is at
this juncture that the depiction of the spinning Annunciate in early Christian
art demands closer attention, and we examine it within the life arc of early
Christian womanhood.
chapter 2
The Maiden
In the same way all branches of heathen learning have not only false
and superstitious fancies and heavy burdens of unnecessary toil, which
everyone of us … ought to abhor and avoid; but they contain also liberal
instruction which is better adapted to the use of the truth, and some
most excellent precepts of morality; and some truths in regard even to
the worship of the One God are found among them.
st. augustine1
∵
1 The Domestic Cult of Mary: Imitatio Mariae and Spinning a Sacred
Conversation
Christian viewers and patrons participated in the appropriation and use of the
spinning motif to construct their own meaning and devotional practice sur-
rounding the Virgin Annunciate. By utilizing this specific motif, early Christians
simultaneously developed an identifying iconography that spread throughout
the diverse populations of the Mediterranean region while legitimizing their
religious practice to a skeptical late ancient Roman world. Christian experience
with the familiar iconography of spinning articulated possibilities and drew up
boundaries by which a new Christian legacy could establish itself within a very
old world.2 This chapter is aptly called “The Maiden” because it discusses the
earliest development of Annunciation iconography within social and theolog-
ical bounds.
Spinning as a specific task conspicuously revealed the ordered household
to a world that clearly demarcated domestic and public domains, and yet con-
stantly allowed those same boundaries to be crossed.3 Household devotion was
both publicly visual and privately efficacious, and was strategic in developing
1 Augustine, On Christian Doctrine 40. Trans. J.J. Shaw (Oxford: Benediction Classics, 2010).
2 Ashbrook Harvey, Scenting Salvation, 2.
3 Kristina Milnor, Gender, Domesticity, and the Age of Augustus: Inventing Private Life (Oxford;
New York: Oxford University Press, 2008), 1–46.

62 chapter 2
religious practice, later codified into formal liturgical veneration. Visual images
and objects are not neutral; rather their end use and symbolic nature help to
demonstrate desired outcomes or perceptions of their patrons. This is espe-
cially true in an age when marking one’s piety was practiced not only by the
elite and educated, but by the lower and slave classes as well.4
This chapter outlines four key issues that help frame Annunciation iconogra-
phy as a primary source of information for the everyday spiritual life of women.
First, Annunciation iconography was part of the domestic cult of Mary and pro-
vided an accessible model for the practice of imitatio Mariae. Second, small,
domestic objects display unique details that associated them with household
realia in ways unique to pre-codified Marian devotion. The iconography of
the spinning Annunciate was key to legitimizing Christianity in late antiquity.
Third, the work of spinning was inextricably linked to the familial and personal
lives of late antique Christian women, separate from the increasing popularity
of ascetic virginity. The power to order and create abundance stood in direct
conflict with patristic admonitions toward ascetic renunciation. Fourth, Chris-
tian women understood their work within the home and household as sacred
and important to God. I differ with the opinion that ancient models have long
lost their primordial place in art historical studies5 and, instead, proffer the ear-
liest iconographic models as the most reliable sources of synchronic realia in
the art and spirituality of late antiquity.
2 Mary the Maiden
The canonical sources for the Annunciation are found in the Gospel according
to Luke and the Gospel according to Matthew. The account in Luke details the
angel Gabriel’s assignment by God to appear to Mary in the city of Nazareth
in Galilee to proclaim her as favoured and blessed, and to deliver a message.
After his initial salutation, Gabriel presents a succinct and powerful message:
“Behold, thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a son, and shalt call
his name jesus. He shall be great, and shall be called the Son of the Highest;
and the Lord God shall give unto him the throne of his father David; And he
shall reign over the house of Jacob for ever; and of his kingdom there shall
4 Cf. David M. Gwynn, Susanne Bangert, and Luke Lavan, Religious Diversity in Late Antiquity
(Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2010); Kim Bowes, Private Worship, Public Values, and Religious Change
in Late Antiquity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 189–226.
5 Mati Meyer, An Obscure Portrait: Imaging Women’s Reality in Byzantine Art (London: Pindar
Press, 2009), 9.
the maiden 63
be no end.”6 Gabriel answers Mary’s concerns and generally describes the holy
event that will occur. He gives her a witness sign in the pregnancy of her cousin
Elizabeth, who was called barren. Mary’s incredulity and fears are allayed in
the infinite possibilities of God and she submits to the will of the Lord. This
glorious dialogue is secondary to the nucleus of the message: Christ is the
Son of God and he will be born in the flesh through the royal blood lines of
Judah. He is the King of Kings reigning over the household of celestial and
terrestrial inheritance forever and without end. The message of Gabriel has
been celebrated and analyzed over centuries; however, the iconography of the
Annunciation has not been considered in association with the reception of the
most important part of the announcement, that the household of Kings, royal
and divine, would receive its heir apparent on earth through Mary’s flesh, and
would be favoured within the household construct of the materfamilias.
As early as the second century there was both curiosity and confusion
regarding the role of Mary. We have good reason to suspect that the apocryphal
texts which detail the extra-canonical details of Mary’s life were formulated as
popular tales in the early church, and became well-known enough to be writ-
ten down by the second century.7 The degree to which the stories and tales that
became Christian apocrypha are evidence of the earliest Marian cult cannot
be over-emphasized. The iconography of the Virgin Annunciate spinning nat-
urally developed out of ancient iconographies that already celebrated moth-
erhood and the pious Matron. Further, the visual tradition was infinitely more
familiar to the lay population than narrative texts, which were available only
to a small number of Christians. The audience, patrons, and artists of Christian
art encountered Annunciation iconography as it was adapted from oral tradi-
tions and from Roman visual imagery. There is no reason to assume that these
images were initially fashioned from a textual source. In fact, the iconic prece-
dence of spindles, spinning, and wool-working in art and epitaph seems to call
for parity with texts, and tends toward the primacy of the visual tradition.
Apocryphal writings on the Annunciation “display great literary and theo-
logical imagination … and, of course, it was these stories that not only repro-
duced the folk traditions about Mary and developing Mariology, but in them-
selves also fueled that theology.”8 The infancy narrative found in the Protoevan-
gelium of James, originally composed in the second century, is the only known
6 Lk. 1:28–33.
7 Cartlidge and Elliott, Art, 1–20.
8 J.K. Elliott, A Synopsis of the Apocryphal Nativity and Infancy Narratives (Leiden; Boston: Brill,
2006), ix.
64 chapter 2
surviving textual source available to readers of the fifth century that incor-
porates spinning as a dominant symbol in the Annunciation story. Later, the
Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew from the sixth or seventh century will continue the
narrative of Mary spinning the veil for the temple.9 As images of the Annun-
ciation were created contemporaneously with or perhaps even prior to these
textual narratives, it is fair to assume late antique patrons and viewers were
not dependent upon literary inspiration, but drew on their own impressions
and experiences in developing iconographic patterns.
The Protevangelium provides the non-canonical sequence of events that
surrounded the birth of Mary to Joachim and Anna as well as the early life of
the Virgin. In these earliest Annunciation motifs, text and image intersect in
both formal and intimate ways, informing and legitimizing each other. These
narratives become typical examples of divine intervention; but, amidst the
seemingly impossible miracles that surround the Virgin as she is prepared for
her role, it is also possible to find suggestions of the common and ordinary.
For example, it is Mary’s lot to spin the purple and the scarlet for the temple
veil, combining the mundane act of spinning with sacred material. Mary’s
task does not fall to her by accident. She is the sole legal heir to her father’s
inheritance, he being a rich man, and a direct descendent of the royal line of
David. She is specifically taken before the chief priests at her birth and receives
“a supreme blessing which cannot be superseded.”10 The undefiled daughters of
the Hebrews serve her, and at the age of three her parents take her to the temple
for the priest to bless her saying: “The Lord has magnified your name among
all generations.”11 Her genealogy was known and the whole House of Israel
revered her; she was to the second-century Christians of the Roman world
the archetypal materfamilias, the mother as a rightful sovereign and legally
powerful figure within the household.
Mary as the spinning Annunciate was the Christian archetype of exemplary
marriage, marriageability, motherhood, and fertility well before she was given
the exclusive title Theotokos or ‘God-bearer’ by the Church in 431 at Ephesus,
and later described as Meter Theou in ecclesiastical texts.12 Averil Cameron
has pointed out that Christology was the centre point around which the figure
9 Elliott, Apocryphal New Testament, 88–89.

10 Protevangelium of James 6:2, in J.K. Elliott, The Apocryphal New Testament (Oxford: Oxford
11 Protevangelium of James 7:2, in Elliott, Apocryphal, 60.
12 Ioli Kalavrezou, “Images of the Mother: When the Virgin Mary Became Meter Theou,”
Dumbarton Oaks Papers 44 (1990): 165–172.
the maiden 65
of Mary attracted interest, popular devotion, and new imagery.13 Though refer-
ences to Mary in Gospel accounts were limited to events like the Annunciation,
Visitation, Nativity, Adoration of the Magi, and the Flight into Egypt, other
ideas about Mary and her role grew out of non-explicit and apocryphal tra-
ditions, many of which were developing before the fifth century.14
3 Annunciation Iconography and the Domestic Cult of Mary
Late antique Annunciation iconography closely signified the constancy and

potency of the capable Christian woman, from maiden to matron. When this
iconography is combined with the realia of privately owned objects and holy
practices, we are able to understand the rich meaning of domestic devotion,
undertaken both individually and collectively, privately and in public. This
iconography is not discussed within the context of objects like censers, icons or
Church frescoes because they are objects that were sponsored by the Church
and were thus more easily influenced by specific theological agendas. Origins
of the spinning Annunciate were fixed during late antiquity as an elaboration
of idealized and powerful matronage, and were executed as such according to
the artistic tastes of the earliest Christian patrons.15
Although formal religious debates influenced the official creeds of the Or-
thodox church, inter alia conferring on Mary the definitive title of Theotokos,
much of everyday devotion was unchecked by the church and was likely the
source for para-liturgical practice. Images of the spinning Annunciate derived
from classical types were revered within late antique Christian households.
Antique symbolism of this motif suggests that it was used to define femininity
for Christian women in ways that defied the ascetic imperatives of virginity, and
instead fostered the opposite sentiment. Because the official Church tended to
13 Averil Cameron, “Early Cult,” 3.

14 Elliott, Apocryphal, 48–51.
15 André Grabar has firmly established that iconographic investigation during late antiquity
must not separate material creation and function of early Christian images. He asserts
that iconography is “seldom distinct from the themes dictated by the piety of the faith-
ful.” Thus, both form and function of the objects discussed in this book demonstrate a
shared affinity for the quotidian and demonstrate the powerful nature of Mary in her role
as matron, a role shared by the very individuals commissioning, purchasing, using and
viewing these objects. André Grabar, Christian Iconography: A Study of its Origins (Prince-
ton, nj: Princeton University Press, 1968), xlii.
66 chapter 2
ignore or dismiss matrons and young women intent on marriage and family
life as spiritually inconsequential to early Christianity, our historical vantage
point has been distorted. In fact, if we regard female sacred experience as
limited exclusively to asceticism and celibacy, the effect is so essentialist that
it restricts our understanding of the domestic and devotional experience of
Christian women. Thus, we must see beyond this established pattern in which
the traditional roles of wife and mother are dismissed as inconsequential or
degrading.16
To some extent, the homilies and patristic treatises that discuss female roles
in late antiquity reflect the celibate circumstances and ecclesiastical agendas
of their authors. They consistently considered women as fallen equivalents
to Eve.17 While there are hints of, and allusions to, the continued sanctity of
family life within ecclesiastical writings, it is imperative to examine them in
combination with the iconography of the household itself in order to balance
the scales of late antique Christian devotion.
Marian devotion was particularly popular in Egypt, as exhibited in the pas-
sionate arguments of Cyril of Alexandria against Bishop Nestorius of Con-
stantinople and in favour of the title Theotokos at the Council of Ephesus in
431. Nestorius claimed that Mary was the Mother of Christ rather than the
Mother of God, this distinction shows his bias toward the maternal and ordi-
narily human nature of Mary. His bias was interpreted by the council as heresy
because it implied that there were two natures in Christ. Although the epithet
became synonymous with Mary from as early as the third century, its roots were
ancient and pagan. Isis, the ancient Egyptian mother goddess, was known in
the Hellenistic epoch as a “mother of god,” because she was the mother of the
god Horus.18 Despite monophysite denial of the dual nature of Christ, Egyp-
tian artists frequently pictured episodes in the life of the Virgin and Child,19
16 Barbara Goff, Citizen Bacchae (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2004), 4–5.
17 Cf. Tertullian, On the Apparel of Women, trans. Rev. S. Thelwall (Kessinger Publishing,
2004), 1.1. 5–8. “Do you know that you are each an Eve? The sentence of God on this sex of
yours lives in this age: the guilt must of necessity live too. You are the devil’s gateway: you
are the unsealer of that forbidden tree; you are the first deserters of the divine law; you are
she who persuades him whom the devil was not valiant enough to attack. You destroyed
so easily God’s image, man. On account of your desert—that is death—even the Son of
God had to die.”
18 Christian Cannuyer, Coptic Egypt: The Christians of the Nile (New York: Harry N. Abrams,
Inc., 2001), 43.
19 Marie-Hélène Rutschowscaya, “Annunciation,” in The Coptic Encyclopedia, vol. 2, ed. Aziz
S. Atiya (New York: Macmillan Publishing Company, 1991), 528–529.
the maiden 67
thus conflating the dogma of the Theotokos, with the long-standing heritage of
mother goddesses in Egypt.
The Marian debate that ensued in 431 at the Council of Ephesus was ulti-
mately about who would mediate the power of Christ,20 and the circumstances
of the Annunciation were at the centre point of the argument. It could be
argued that the Annunciation was necessary in legitimizing Orthodox dogma
regarding Mary and her role. Because the earliest representations of the An-
nunciate spinning likely preceded Ephesus, it is important to use examples,
such as the Louvre Virgin Annunciate, to help develop the idea that Marian
iconography developed from lay piety and familiar matronly motifs well before
the post-Iconoclastic Church codified them.
Coptic artisans produced decorative sculpture as domestic or funerary ob-
jects in wood and metal. The oldest example of Annunciation imagery from
Egypt is a wooden bas-relief fragment from as early as the fourth century
(fig. 14).21 The panel, today at the Louvre, is relatively large, measuring 28.5 cm
by 14.5cm by 2cm and shows Mary seated on a high square-legged stool or
chair with her feet elevated above the ground. Her face is turned toward the
viewer and her body is shown in profile with her legs crossing awkwardly, a
composition at variance with the iconic figures found in ancient Egyptian art.
Mary holds a lattice design wool basket on her lap.
Her left hand grasps the shaft of a distaff or perhaps a spindle situated in the
basket while the gesture of her right hand suggests that she is pulling the scar-
let or purple roves from the basket in preparation for spinning. The archangel
Gabriel is missing from the scene with only his foot and part of his garment
appearing in the lower right corner of the panel. Stylistically, the figure of Mary
has large, wide set eyes in the middle of her face, a large nose, a small mouth,
and an elaborately coiffed head of hair. Mary’s body does not refer to the clas-
sical canon of proportions and is lost in the shallow folds of drapery indicated
by incised lines and painted details in pink and violet. The whole figure is eye-
catching and Mary’s intense expression returns the gaze of the viewer.
This relief panel, carved of fig wood, was obviously part of a larger composi-
tion, now lost. It is very rare to see this scene in a sculptural object of this size
and made of wood. Cédric Meurice, from the curatorial department of Egyp-
tian antiquities at the Louvre, suggests that the panel was probably part of a
small piece of furniture or a chancel wall, clearly associating this panel with
20 Kate Cooper, “Contesting the Nativity: Wives, Virgins, and Pulcheria’s Imitatio Mariae,”
Scottish Journal of Religious Studies 19, no. 1. (1998): 31–44.
21 Jacques Santrot, Au fil du Nil: Couleurs de l’ Egypte chrétienne (Paris; Nantes: Somogy
éditions d’ art; Musée Dobrée, 2001), 33–39.
68 chapter 2
figure 14
Annunciation, bas-relief fragment, fig
wood, Paris, Louvre, fifth century ad
church architecture or furnishing.22 The edge of the panel is tapered to fit into
a channel element, but, as its provenance is unknown and sculptural panels
could have been used in a variety of circumstances, an ecclesiastical setting is
not the only possibility.
Regardless of its original function, the implications of this image for women
participating, not only in “high” theological observance, but in lay ritual as
22 http://www.louvre.fr/llv/oeuvres/detail_notice.jsp?CONTENT%3C%3Ecnt_id=
10134198673225523&CURRENT_LLV_NOTICE%3C%3Ecnt_id=10134198673225523&
FOLDER%3C%3Efolder_id=9852723696500810&bmLocale=en (September 2011).
the maiden 69
Marian devotees are significant. Examples of pre-Ephesus veneration of Mary

include the fourth-century practice, condemned by Bishop Epiphanius of Sala-
mis, indicating a quasi-liturgical ritual that looks strikingly like the celebration
of the Magna Mater.
For some women decorate a carriage or a square chair by covering it with

fine linen, and on a certain definite day of the year they set forth bread
and offer it as a sacrifice in the name of Mary.23
Marian piety was also featured from the mid-fourth century onward in the
feast of the Nativity. In fact, Ambrose of Milan (340–397) recounts the occasion
when his sister Marcellina received the virgin’s veil from Pope Liberius during
a Christmas ceremony in St. Peter’s basilica on the Vatican Hill,24 indicating
that objects associated with Mary had acquired special, if not holy relic, sta-
tus. Additionally, orthodox and heterodox devotees revered the entire Advent
season for its emphasis on Mary, with the fourth Sunday devoted to the Annun-
ciation and the fifth to the Visitation of Mary and Elizabeth.25 Such events
would probably have been associated with pervasive symbols like the spindle
and distaff and detailed in the celebration of Advent.
The Church Fathers also use wool-working iconography and rhetoric to
establish their theological arguments. According to the obscure fourth-century
churchman and bishop, Potamius of Lisbon, even women could comprehend
the unity of the body or garment of Christ because it was woven as an indi-
visible or seamless tunic. In his “Letter on the Substance,” he quips that as “we
have already begun to discuss the indivisible garment let us weave our words!
Words which women also may understand, since our words concern the kind
of job to which they were assigned.”26 He goes on to expound upon the pure
white fleece of the Lamb of God, weighted and sold off by Judas Iscariot and
then woven on the loom in the form of a cross-shaped tunic.
This analogy predates the Council of Ephesus and is formulated around the
Arian belief that Christ’s body was created by God the Father. Thus Mary’s role
as his mortal mother was accentuated, and the weaving metaphor was used
23 Epiphanius, Panarion 59, in Stephen Benko, The Virgin Goddess: Studies in the Pagan and
Christian Roots of Mariology (Leiden: Brill, 1993), 171.
24 Cooper, “Contesting,” 36. Cf. Ambrose, De virginibus 3:1, in Neil McLynn, Ambrose of Milan:
Church and Court in a Christian Capital (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994), 35.
25 Cooper, “Contesting,” 37.
26 Potamius of Lisbon, “Letter on the Substance,” Corpus Christianorum Series Latina (Turn-
hout, Belgium: Brepols, 1998), 213, lines 61–64.
70 chapter 2
to describe the perfect workmanship of God’s hand. This early documentation

of the imagery, metaphor, and analogy of wool-work was, as Potamius suggests,
familiar to ordinary women and a seamless way to describe the transient ortho-
doxy of Arianism under Constantius ii. Clearly this iconography was firmly
established, used, and understood as culturally mainstream in describing the
Incarnation of Christ well into the fourth century, long before it was officially
altered and codified within Church councils.
Nevertheless, the spindle and distaff did not originate as Christian symbols
for use on objects widely disseminated to the lay population. They were famil-
iar and effective a priori within their contemporary context.27 I suggest that
the symbols of spindle and distaff were used within Christian iconography
precisely because, as effortless details, they revealed desirable attributes and
characteristics for and about real women. Thus, these symbols were accepted
and maintained as appropriate within the Christian context without the need
to elaborate overtly on their didactic nature.
4 Maiden’s Tools: Sacred, Profane, Mundane
As simple as it may sound, sacred things are separate from profane things. As
theorized by Mircea Eliade, sacred and profane space and time are meaningful,
real, and qualitatively different from each other.28 These spaces are recogniz-
able by those who attune themselves to them and are constantly represented
in certain key symbols. Sacred experience is ordered and made meaningful,
while profane experience is chaotic and exterior to sacred boundaries. Further,
sacred experiences in time and space are revealed as such and are therefore not
arbitrary or speculative.29
Sacred places and spaces are located at the threshold between the common
everyday world and the world of the divine. Temples, churches, and synagogues
indicate a space set apart from the outside or profane world and, for many, the
home was and is a similar space. It is no wonder that the deeply metaphor-
ical familiarity of spinning iconography was associated with holy or sacred
behaviour and had a long-standing tradition of matronly religious commit-
ment within domestic settings.
27 Grabar, Christian Iconography, xlvi.

28 Mircea Eliade, The Sacred and the Profane (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1957),
see chapters 1–2.
29 Eliade, Sacred and Profane, 107–113.
the maiden 71
figure 15 Berlin ivory pyxis, Staatliche Museum, Berlin, fifth or sixth century ad
courtesy of skulpturensammlung und museum für byzantinische
kunst, staatliche museen zu berlin. photography by antje voigt
Pyxis jars or boxes are objects that easily cross the threshold between sacred
and profane. They can be considered sacred because of their Christian decora-
tion, and yet they were typically used for utilitarian functions that had nothing
necessarily to do with sacred purposes. A pyxis is a jar or box that was used to
hold ointments, perfumes, balms, and other cosmetics. Occasionally, pyxides
would safeguard coins, jewellery, or other small valuables, and were themselves
intrinsically valuable as they were often made of ivory. Pyxis jars were most
often produced for domestic use. A pyxis could also contain incense or relic
type objects, neither of which necessarily indicate a liturgical or ceremonial
function. Two pyxides of ivory, today in the Cleveland Museum of Art and the
Staatliche Museum in Berlin (fig. 15), feature images of the Virgin Annunci-
ate spinning. The details on the pyxides are clearly inspired by specific spin-
ning practices which were likely observed within a domestic environment and,
barring new discoveries with regard to provenance, also functioned within a
household setting.
The Cleveland pyxis, dated to the fifth or sixth century with a possible prove-
nance in Ravenna, shows Gabriel approaching Mary from the left as she twists
around to meet his gaze. Interestingly, Gabriel’s wings are de-emphasized and
72 chapter 2
he is dressed in traditional Roman dress, while Mary is coiffed with a simple

veil. Mary’s spinning implements dominate the scene. In her left hand, she
holds a substantial distaff with an abundant tuft of fibre at its tip. The thin
roves twist from the distaff, across Mary’s breast and down to the specialized
spindle. The spindle shaft is firmly grasped in Mary’s hand and is shown with
a large decorated spindle whorl that in turn rests its tip on a tapered bowl that
is set on a rectangular stand or pedestal. These details are very specific to the
craft of spinning and must have imitated actual experience.
The Berlin pyxis (fig. 15) also dates to the fifth or sixth century and is similar
in many ways to the Cleveland pyxis. Gabriel approaches Mary from the right
and has prominent wings that extend from his head to his toes and well beyond
the breadth of his shoulders. Mary has a large distaff with a tuft of fibre on the
end that is twisted down to her spindle set into a shallow bowl. Spinning bowls,
an extraordinary detail, were smooth shallow bowls, usually made from terra
cotta, moulded glass or carved wood, and used to support the spindle as it was
whorled around to twist the fibres. They were especially useful for spinning
very thin or delicate strands of fibre since the bowl restricted the excessive
movement of the heavy whorl, preventing fibre breakage.
Both ivories are intricately carved in relief with fine details afforded by the
nature of the material. Both are now missing their lids, but distinct holes used
to secure a hinge or clasps remain visible on the sides of the pyxides. The
tradition of carved ivory used to make semi-precious objects and boxes extends
far beyond the classical world with examples of pyxis jars dating back to the
fifteenth century bc. Ivories continued to be popular during late antiquity,
with many featuring Christian subject matter. These two pyxides show unique
spinning implements that must have been inspired by distinctive object realia
readily available to the artisan viewer.30 While the iconography of the Virgin
Annunciate spinning is generally related to the apocryphal text, here, in these
early examples, the individual artisan has translated the scene according to
their own visual experience.
Spinning and cloth production implements themselves do survive from an-
cient and late antique periods, especially with Egyptian provenance, because
the arid climate helped to preserve wooden and textile materials. Examples in-
clude spindles, spindle whorls, distaffs and even weaving shuttles, fibre combs,
30 I am indebted to conversations with Prof. John Peter Wild at the University of Manchester
for illuminating the distinctive and unique aspects of the spinning utensils as shown on
this pyxis (Fall 2007, Spring 2008).
the maiden 73
and weaving tablets or square boards used to separate different coloured yarn
strands on the loom, all with Egyptian provenance, dating back to the Roman
or early Byzantine era and are preserved in the Louvre.31 Roman period spin-
ning tools, especially spindles, are common finds in museum storerooms like
the British Museum and the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford. Deeply significant
Christian iconography is beautifully combined with the function of these tools
as real, utilitarian objects on these pyxides. This combination demonstrates
how the threshold between the sacred and the profane was easily crossed, legit-
imizing the sacredness of the mundane in late antiquity. Ironically, these same
iconographic elements appear in the arguments of early patristic texts, where
they were often appropriated in order to alter the significance of the symbols
for their own agenda.
5 The Maiden Imaged as the Ascetic
The phenomenon of young women adopting the ascetic life was in some ways a
reaction to the relative acceptance that had been achieved by Christians before
the official legalization of Christianity. Second-century apocryphal writings
associated asceticism, virginity, and even the naked body as genuine signs
of holiness. The Acts of Paul and Thecla from the second century present
Thecla’s naked body as a requisite element of her persecution and martyrdom.
Francesca Di Marco has put forward the idea that Thecla’s virginal and naked
body is necessarily disassociated with female imperfection and Eve’s sin, and
in “refusing marriage and motherhood, results of the first sin, and keeping her
virginity, Thecla restores an Eden-like body, (and) recovers the condition of
woman before the Fall.”32 St. Agnes (d. 304ad), like Thecla, is also presented
as a young, naked, virgin martyr by Ambrose in his De Virginibus and is held up
as a model of holiness.33 This attempt to normalize ascetic life is also seen in
patterns of bodily transformation and transvestitism. The account of Perpetua
(d. 203ad) describes her immediate change into a male body as she is stripped
for the amphitheater, and the fifth-century Life of Eugenia is but one literary
31 Santrot, Au fil du Nil, 33–39. Cf. Francoise Chaserant, Francois Leyge, and Dominique
Heckenbenner, Une autre Égypte: Collections coptes du Musée du Louvre (Paris: Somogy
éditions d’ art, 2009), 120–121.
32 Francesca Di Marco, “Undressed: The Naked Female Body as a Sign of Holiness in Apoc-
ryphal and Hagiographical Literature,” Studia Patristica xliv (2010): 499–508, cit. 501.
33 Ambrose, De Virginibus, i, 2; pl 16, 200–202. Cited in Di Marco, “Undressed,” 499–508.
74 chapter 2
example of a woman who strips herself of her female accoutrements, dresses

as a man, and is accepted into a monastic community.34
The female body, femininity, motherhood, and marriage were constantly
excised from the concept of female sanctity and reimagined in patristic and
apocryphal sources. In fact, they are repudiated as instruments of sin and dis-
tractions from pure and proper devotion. The tendency to favour virginal vener-
ation is also apparent in the orthodox theology surrounding the Annunciation.
Gregory of Nyssa went so far as to expound upon scriptural references to the
Annunciation and claim that Mary, having been consecrated to God, makes an
eternal vow of virginity. He compares the Virgin to the burning bush that Moses
saw on Mount Horeb.
As on the mountain the bush burned but was not consumed, so the Virgin
gave birth to the light and was not corrupted. Nor should you consider
the comparison to the bush to be embarrassing, for it prefigures the God-
bearing body of the Virgin.35
Instead of underscoring the simplicity and familiar household setting of the

Annunciation or Mary’s matronly transformation, Gregory turns to a meta-
phorical reflection on the Old Testament burning bush as a type for Mary,
where God reveals himself to man. This specific encounter was inherently
numinous, liminal, and outside ordinary female boundaries or experience. In
patristic hands, Marian theology was combined with distinctively inaccessible
textual imagery that appropriated virginity and distanced conventional female
roles from those who sought after a holy way of life.
Gregory Nazianzus continued in this vein as he presented the practice of
virginity as an exemplary custom.
But after Christ was born of a chaste and virgin Mother, not bound by
carnal chains and like unto God (for it was necessary that Christ should
come into the world without marital relations and without a father),
virginity began to sanctify women and drive away the bitter Eve. It took
away the laws of the flesh, and, through the preaching of the gospel, the
letter gave way to the spirit and grace entered in. Then virginity shone out
clearly before mortals; it appeared in the world freely, as the liberator of a
helpless world. It is as superior to matrimony and to the conditions of life
34 E. Giannarelli, “Body, Clothing and Female Identity,” Studia Patristica xliv (2010): 461–
469.
35 Gregory of Nyssa, On the Birth of Christ, pg 46, 1133D–1136B.
the maiden 75
as the soul is superior to the body and as the wide heavens are superior
to earth, as the lasting life of the blessed is superior to the fleeting life of
earth, as God is superior to man.36
Clearly, the ascetic practice of sexual renunciation for young women was gain-
ing some popularity and was considered by the Cappadocian Fathers to be
superior to any other way of life. The trend toward asceticism tended to set
its observant apart, to signify special status or holiness. Gillian Cloke has sug-
gested that devotion toward the ascetic filled the gap left by martyrdom37 in
previous centuries. Ascetic life was a choice for some pious Christian women
in the early Church, but it was not the only choice, nor was it the most common
choice. Extant texts discuss the activities of ascetic notables who accomplish
the extraordinary by abandoning worldly comforts, husbands, children, family,
riches, and even hygiene in order to have a claim on holiness.
The example of Mary of Egypt (c. 344–c. 421) provides the ascetic antithesis
to the matronly model established in the early Church. The sixth-century
hagiographer Cyril of Skythopolis (d. 558) gives the earliest version of the
repentant harlot, who withdrew to the desert for eighteen years, lived in a
cave, and subsisted on legumes to avoid leading men into temptation.38 This
“repentant harlot” type was especially favoured in the milieu of Syro-Palestine
and Egypt from the fourth to seventh centuries.39 In her Vita, the narrative
describes Mary’s circumstances in the first person:
For more than seventeen years—please forgive me—I was a public temp-
tation to licentiousness, not for payment, I swear, since I did not accept
anything although men often wished to pay me. I simply contrived this so
that I could seduce many more men, thus turning my lust into a free gift.
You would not think that I did not accept payment because I was rich, for
I lived by begging and often by spinning coarse flax fibres. The truth is that
I had an insatiable passion and uncontrollable lust to wallow in filth.40
36 Gregory Nazianzus, Moral Poems i, 189–208; pg 37, 537a–538a.

37 Gillian Cloke, This Female Man of God (London and New York: Routledge, 1995), 7.
38 Eduard Schwartz, Kyrillos von Skythopolis (Leipzig: J.C. Hinrichs Verlag, 1939), 233–234.
R.M. Price, trans., Lives of the Monks of Palestine (Kalamazoo, mi: Cistercian Publications,
1991), 256–258.
39 Benedicta Ward, Harlots of the Desert: A Study of Repentance in Early Monastic Sources
(Kalamazoo, mi: Cistercian Publications, 1987), for additional vitae.
40 The Life of Mary of Egypt (pg 87, 3697–3726). Trans. Maria Kouli in Alice-Mary Talbot, ed.,
Holy Women of Byzantium (Washington, d.c.: Dumbarton Oaks, 1996), 80.
76 chapter 2
Rudimentary spinning and begging are mentioned as Mary’s meagre sources

of income and remain occupations set apart from the licentious “gifts” she
offers to men. Even within this extreme example, spinning is related to Mary of
Egypt’s guise of acceptable economic maintenance, although, according to her
hagiographer, she preferred destitution and filth. Later images of Mary of Egypt,
like the twelfth-century fresco from the church of the Panagia Phorbiotissa
in Asinou, Cyprus depict Mary as a half-naked, emaciated hermit wearing a
simple black cloak. She was eventually found dead in her cave and revered as
the repentant woman, leaving no progeny and exercising no power apart from
that given by patriarchal hagiographers who extolled her as an exemplar of
extreme asceticism.
Melania the Younger (385–439) and Macrina (330–379) are two other early
ascetics whose lives were set apart from traditionally prescribed family life.41
Melania the Younger was the sole heiress to one of Rome’s most powerful
senatorial families. Her children died in infancy, and, in desiring to follow in the
footsteps of her grandmother, Melania the Elder (325–410), she ceased sexual
activity with her husband and adopted an ascetic lifestyle. She was an ascetic
patroness, establishing and founding religious communities in northern Africa
and Jerusalem. She took on the role of materfamilias or matriarch within these
communities, a role based on the tradition of the Roman domus, and she called
her followers her children.42
Andrew S. Jacobs has associated the Apocryphal Acts with the fourth-centu-
ry accounts of wealthy women imitating Thecla, like Macrina and Melania
the Younger,43 who provide examples of an upper-class rejection of family
life. He aptly notes that these women’s spectacular renunciations became
legendary precisely because they had so much to give up.44 In fact, it took
Melania the Younger most of her life to give away her vast riches; this seems a
relatively innocuous way to maintain a comfortable life in this world and secure
a heavenly throne in the next. Jacobs concludes:
41 Cf. Carolinne White, ed., Lives of Roman Christian Women (London; New York: Penguin
Books, 2010), chs. 2, 3, 9.
42 Kate Cooper, “The Household and the Desert: Monastic and Biological Communities
in the Lives of Melania the Younger,” in Anneke Mulder-Bakker and Jocelyn Wogan-
Browne, eds., Household, Women, and Christianities in Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages
(Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols Publishers, 2005), 11–12.
43 Andrew S. Jacobs, “ ‘Her Own Proper Kinship’: Marriage, Class, and Women in the Apoc-
ryphal Acts of the Apostles,” in A Feminist Companion to the New Testament Apocrypha,
ed. Amy-Jill Levine (Leiden: Pilgrim Press, 2006), 45.
44 Jacobs, “Proper Kinship,” 46.
the maiden 77
Rich women became living symbols of holy poverty, and the female sci-
ons of famous households became emblems of familial renunciation.
Through subversion and inversion they claimed a particular female agen-
cy outside the norms of family, or class, or society; they embraced an ethics
of renunciation of class and marriage, and became the saintly home-
wreckers of Christian memory.45
Ironically, the “Christian memory” of female ascetics has all but forgotten that
they are remembered precisely because they were inexorably tied to a much
larger other history, namely the Christian familial tradition. Sexual renuncia-
tion and anti-familial culture did exist. They were well-promoted in apocryphal
accounts and tales of female martyrs and holy women in ways that both con-
cealed and dissolved the historical accounts of ordinary Christian women of
varying classes, particularly young wives, mothers, and grandmothers, whose
piety was deemed deficient, and was thus ignored.
The ascetic household presupposed a rejection of the traditional social con-
struct of the familia as primary with regard to law and property issues. Yet, like
the practice of virginity, the ascetic was likely to have adopted the ideology of
asceticism while practicing something else entirely through the maintenance
of familial ties and property rights given to the community of followers rather
than individuals.46 For example, an entire entourage of servants and fellow
ascetics often accompanied Melania, though she presented herself as a soli-
tary ascetic. Similarly, Macrina, an eligible young woman with, “considerable
proficiency in wool-work” according to Gregory of Nyssa’s Vita,47 rejected mar-
ried life and dedicated her life as a nun to the instruction of young girls in the
ways of asceticism.
In her work on Christian chastity stories, namely the accounts of ascetic
women found in the Apocryphal Acts of the Apostles, Virginia Burrus has
argued that apocryphal stories featuring ascetic sexual renunciation were writ-
ten explicitly in opposition to the political and social order of the late ancient
world, specifically to subvert marriage and family life.48 This could not have
45 Jacobs, “Proper Kinship,” 46.

46 Kate Cooper, The Fall of the Roman Household (New York: Cambridge University Press,
2007), 17.
47 Gregory of Nyssa, Vita Macrinae 4–5. Trans. W.K. Lowther Clarke as cited in Michael Maas,
ed., Readings in Late Antiquity: A Sourcebook (New York: Routledge, 2000), 8.4.1.
48 Virginia Burrus, Chastity as Autonomy: Women in the Stories of Apocryphal Acts (Lewiston,
ny: Mellen Press, 1987), 59.
78 chapter 2
been the implicit desire of the majority of Christian thinkers and devotees
in the second or third century, as subverting the ideals of marriage and fam-
ily life was seen as highly degenerate, unpatriotic, and even dangerous.49 In
comparing apocryphal accounts to Roman literature in the Hellenistic tradi-
tion, namely novels, Burrus suggests that instead of “begin(ning) with mutual
love and end(ing) with marriage and reunion with family, the chastity story
begins with the woman’s attraction to the apostle and his message and ends
with the woman’s triumphant attainment of singleness.”50 She concludes that
these stories originated as women’s stories and presented a specifically female
point of view.51 Burrus maintains that these stories are positive and creative
innovations by women designed to set up an alternative society, whereby rad-
ical transformations of social relationships and the abolition of traditional sex
roles and class distinctions could occur.52 Burrus bases her argument upon
the premise that women invented the anti-familial structure in a grand power-
grab in late Rome in order to subvert, through private female story-telling, the
domain of the authoritative Word in the public record of history and apoc-
ryphal text.53 I would challenge Burrus’ hypothesis that late antique Christian
women were, first, limited to influence only within the private domain and, sec-
ond, primarily concerned with dismantling the familial relationships that had
traditionally provided them with varying degrees of power, property, voice, and
status.
In further passages of the Apocryphal Acts, especially in the Acts of Paul and
Thecla, women consistently reject opportunities for marriage, the marriage bed
more specifically, and socially conservative Roman values. Many scholars have
argued that the model of sexual renunciation was a subversive act meant to
emancipate women from patriarchal oppression by basing their arguments on
modern feminist agendas.54 Others have claimed that early Christian sexual
abstinence was used as a means of establishing a new kind of authority and
49 Rhee, Early Christian, 125–155.

50 Burrus, Chastity, 59–60.
51 Burrus, Chastity, 72–76.
52 Burrus, Chastity, 116.
53 Burrus, Chastity, 77.
54 Cf. Stevan L. Davies, The Revolt of the Widows: The Social World of the Apocryphal Acts
(Carbondale: Southern Illinois Press, 1980); Dennis R. MacDonald, The Legend and the
Apostle (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1983); Esther Yue L. Ng, Reconstructing Christian
Origins? (Carlisle: Paternoster Publishing, 2004).
the maiden 79
social order in which the Church itself replaced the Roman patriarchal order,
thus controlling the rhetoric and behaviours of the devout.55
Most recently, Kate Cooper has advised caution in exclusively privileging the
ascetic literary model. In her analysis of the Ad Gregoriam in palatio she notes
the social-historical shift in late Roman power and the anxieties perceived
within the Christian elite community as borne out in the lives of household-
ers and domini. The author and intended readers of the Ad Gregoriam were
conscious that the institution of the family and the traditional household was
being challenged and “their reaction was to set out terms of participation for a
Christian elite who would be indispensable precisely in their capacity as house-
holders and domini.”56 Cooper positively identifies the two-pronged approach
by bureaucrats and bishops to conspire against and undermine familial struc-
tures, estates, and inheritances through Church acquisition of such proper-
ties.57
On an entirely more extreme level, Jerome’s Adversus Jovinianum exposed
his hostility towards marriage and maintained his opinion that all sexual inter-
course was unclean.58 Jerome’s attitude toward marriage was openly distasteful
to many at the end of the fourth century, and was still very much an issue in the
early fifth century. As early as the 390s, monks and theologians like Rufinus,
Sulpicius, Vigilantius, and Pelagius were commenting on Jerome’s extremism,
and Pelagius in particular can be read as one willing to compromise between
the positions of Jovinian and Jerome concerning marriage and celibacy.59
Even one of the most notable Fathers of Early Christian theology, Augustine
of Hippo (d. 430), who celebrated the virginal Mary, conceded that through
the plan and redemption of the Lord the dignity of both men and women was
preserved:
Both the sexes should recognize their own dignity, and both should con-
fess their sins and hope to be saved. Through woman, poison was poured
upon man, in order to deceive him, but salvation was poured out upon
man from a woman, that he might be reborn in grace. The woman, having
become Mother of Christ, will repair the sin she committed in deceiving
the man.60
55 Kate Cooper, The Virgin and the Bride: Idealized Womanhood in Late Antiquity (Boston:
Harvard University Press, 1996), 55.
56 Cooper, Fall, 54. Cf. Ad Gregoriam in Palatio, English trans. Kate Cooper, Fall, 239–283.
57 Cooper, Fall, 93–143.
58 Adversus Jovinianum 1.20; pl 23, 249: “quod ad munditias corporis Christi, omnis coitus
immunda sit.”
59 Hunter, Marriage, 260.
60 Augustine, Sermon 51, 3; pl 38, 334–335. As translated in Gambero, Mary, 230.
80 chapter 2
Augustine did not specify only men and women who renounce the world or
their marriage vows. Instead, fruitful members of the body of Christ, namely
the Church, are recognized as sharing in the glory of Mary’s motherhood. He
did give special deference to the holy virgins of the Church in his De sancta
virginitate, but did not exclude other faithful members from the glory and
image of Christ:
Holy virgins ought not to be disappointed that, keeping their virginity,

they cannot become mothers in the physical sense. The only case in which
it was fitting for a virgin to give birth was the case of him who, in his birth,
can have no equal. Further, the birth from that one holy Virgin is a glory
shared by all holy virgins; together with Mary, they are mothers of Christ,
as long as they do the will of his Father …
Moreover, every faithful soul is a mother of Christ, and by doing the will
of his Father through charity, which is a most fruitful virtue, every faithful
soul transmits life to all those imprinted with the image of Christ.61
Augustine was invited to participate in the third ecumenical council to be

convened at Ephesus in 431. His authority was legitimately celebrated in Rome
and recognized by the churches of Eastern Christianity, and he might have had
a balancing effect on the controversies of the council had he lived to attend.
Instead, the Council of Ephesus convened with the schools of Alexandria and
Antioch opposing each other over their Christological positions to schismatic
and heretical ends.
That there were modes of holy sanctity that existed outside of monastic
orders or ascetic denial is a genuine, though somewhat ambiguous, actuality
that emerges in both patristic discussion of the Virgin and social models for
daily living. The case has been abundantly made for the presence of ascetic
life in late antiquity and early Byzantium. Christian teachings did highlight
the ascetic lifestyle, but even in its spectacle and extraordinary circumstances,
it should not be stressed too much or exaggerated as the normal mode of
Christian life.62
61 Augustine, De sancta virginitate 5; pl 40, 399. As translated and cited in Gambero, Mary,
228.
62 Antti Arjava, Women and Law in Late Antiquity (New York: Oxford University Press, 1998),
106–107.
the maiden 81
6 Marian Devotion as Counter-ascetic
Writing in Latin, Tertullian (died c. 220) provides primary source material

for the early spread of Roman Christianity and Mariology into North Africa.
Although occupied with stingingly condemning women for their dress and
behaviours, Tertullian underscores the material and human nature of Christ
through Mary. He does not refrain from using Mary as a moral example and
accepts marriage as an ideal:
She was a virgin who gave birth to Christ, but after his birth she was
married to one man, so that both ideals of holiness (namely, the virginal
ideal and the married ideal) might be exemplified in the parentage of
Christ, in the person of a Mother who was both virgin and married to one
husband only.63
Clearly, the Roman notion of proper and chaste marriage was not foreign to Ter-
tullian, nor to his audience, both male and female. Most theologians today call
Tertullian’s ideas about the Virgin’s marriage unduly bold, but upon close read-
ing we can see the concept of marriage and holy behaviour dually played out
against the social standards of early Christianity.64 It remains clear that both
virginal and married women could attain the holy ideal even within the church.
Marian doctrine also developed among other preeminent thinkers of the
third century like Origen (d. 253), who taught primarily in Alexandria. Having
been educated both in Roman secularism and in Christian religious tradition,
Origen combines both in his discussion of Mary’s maternity. In his Commentary
on the Letter to the Galatians, Origen elaborates on Mary’s role as a real and
proper Mother of Jesus Christ:65
The prescient apostle has said: “But when the fullness of time had come,
God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those
who were under to the law” (Gal. 4:4). Observe that he did not say: “born
through a woman”, but rather, “born of a woman”.66
63 Tertullian, De monogamia 8, 2; pl 2, 989.

64 In Sarah Jane Boss, Empress and Handmaid (London and New York: Cassell, 2000), we find
ample argument for the later medieval Church, or at least certain factions of it, rejecting
the potency of Mary’s motherhood and substituting her maternal authority for a contrived
sense of patristic domination over her body attainable only through ascetic piety.
66 Origen, Commentary on the Letter to the Galatians, pg 14, 1298.
82 chapter 2
Mary takes on the human capacity of motherhood by bearing Christ, and still
she remains virginal. She is lawfully married to Joseph, which dually benefited
Mary, allowing her to conform to the proper marriage custom and keeping
hidden the mystery of her conception.67 Origen emphasizes Mary’s holiness
and virtue while still preserving her virginal status. Although Mary is idealized
in this example, her role as mother is not reduced to her essentialist female
body used only for creating Christ’s body.68
Hippolytus of Rome (d. 235) associated Christ’s material body with a gar-
ment when he described how the Lord assumed His flesh from Mary.
Being outside of the flesh, the Word of God took upon himself the holy
flesh from the holy Virgin; like a bridegroom, he prepared for himself
that garment which he would weave together with his sufferings on the
Cross … In this way he intended to obtain salvation for man, who was
perishing.69
Hippolytus’ language offers a rare early glimpse into the synthesis of cloth and
flesh. It is not just the cloth of his physical body that Hippolytus refers to,
but also the mortal experience of suffering and dying necessary to complete
Christ’s salvific mission. By citing the production of “that garment” and the
weaving together of Christ’s experience, the author seems to invoke a now
Christianized role of the classical Fates in determining the destiny of the soul.
Now the Word made flesh is tied inextricably to Mary as well as to the salvation
of the souls of men. This, together with the time-honoured view that “the Son is
the firstborn of all: firstborn of God, so that it would be clear that he is the Son
of God and the second after the Father … firstborn from the dead, being himself
the first fruits of our resurrection,”70 granted Hippolytus’ doctrine legitimacy.
It would be difficult to find a more hopeful and stirring doctrine regarding the
67 Origen emphasized this notion of marriage between Mary and Joseph not only as a shield
against public shame and ridicule, but also as a ploy to deceive the devil. Origen, Homilies
on Luke 6, 3–4; pg 13, 1814–1815.
68 There is obviously some debate as to the ever-virginal state of Mary during this time. Her
status was clearly undecided among some camps insomuch that Origen responded to
those who held that Mary had conjugal relations with Joseph after Christ’s birth: “If Mary
is proclaimed blessed by the Holy Spirit (through the mouth of Elizabeth), then how can
the Lord have rejected her?” Origen, Homily on Luke 7, 4; pg 13, 1818.
69 Hippolytus of Rome, Christ and Antichrist 4; pg 10, 732.
70 Hippolytus of Rome, Commentary on Daniel 4, 11; gcs 1, 1, 212–214.
the maiden 83
ultimate salvation of mankind, also connected to Mary. Hippolytus, therefore,

contributes generously to the theological value of Mary’s role and her humanity
within the early Church.
Although the early Church Fathers frequently cite the Bible for the submis-
sive role of the wife, they never claimed that this role originated as a particularly
Christian idea, or that the highly personal dynamics of the marital relationship
could always be prescribed. Within the household, traditional duties inherited
from Roman culture continued to hold sway in Christian homes. There was lit-
tle new in the ideal of a virtuous Christian housewife and “there is no indication
that Christian wives in practice were more submissive than the pagan ones had
been.”71 Tertullian, Ambrose, Jerome, and Gregory Nazianzus all accepted the
role of the good wife in supervising the members of the family unit, invento-
rying and storing household goods and food, tending to children, managing
slaves, and all other tasks directly related to the running of the household,
whether small or large.72 They also never associate the “good wife” with piety,
devotion, or holy behaviour.
The reputation of Christian women during late antiquity was key to estab-
lishing a new kind of familial paradigm. The model of pious matronage was
resurrected from Roman Republican and Early Imperial values and employed
anew in ways that reflected old-fashioned mores. The iconography of the spin-
ning Annunciate reflected these values in a clear and understandable way.
It not only rejected the “new” morality of wives and widows “whose social
life was reported to have been pursued at the expense of family responsibil-
ities and the complex running of households,”73 it also subverted the notion
that female piety was only accomplished through ascetic conduct; conduct
that, through eschewing the perceived illicit liaisons and marital infidelities of
pagan women, was also pursued at the expense of family responsibilities and
the running of households.74 In fact, precedents in the lives of early prominent
Christian women cast doubt on the popularity of ascetic renunciation. Women
like Lydia in Philippi, and Junia, Prisca, and Faltonia Betitia Proba in Rome are a
71 Arjava, Women and Law, 128, 132.

72 Tertullian, castit. 12.1, ccl 2.1031; Ambrose, On Paradise 11.50, csel 32.1.307; Jerome, On
Ephesians 3.5.33, pl 26, 570; Gregory Nazianzen, Oration 8.9, 18.8, pg 35, 797, 993.
73 Bruce W. Winter, Roman Wives, Roman Widows: The Appearance of New Women and the
Pauline Communities (Grand Rapids, mi: Eerdmans Publishing, 2003), 5. Cf. Elaine Fan-
tham, Helene Peet Foley, Natalie Kampen, Sarah Pomeroy, H.A. Shapiro, Women in the
Classical World: Image and Text (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994), 280–292, for
evidence regarding the social mores of “New” women in the early Empire.
74 Fantham et al., Women in the Classical World, 280–292.
84 chapter 2
few examples of those who contributed to the acceptability and respectability

of the Church precisely because they ran successful households or were good
and faithful wives to good and faithful husbands.75
Apart from these select examples, literary sources tell us little about non-
elite married women, further promoting the idea of asceticism as the principal
means of achieving social utility, freedom, and holy acclaim. Scholars like Eliz-
abeth A. Clark, Gillian Clark, and Susanna Elm, among others, have promoted
the idea that asceticism was a natural progression for Christian women who
wished to attain some level of holiness.76 Notwithstanding their contributions
to the study of late antique Christianity, these scholars demonstrate partiality
toward source material that specifically supports a thesis that, with few excep-
tions, Christian matrons were resigned to “subservience, submissiveness, and
silence,”77 time and again privileging asceticism over domestic roles.
Late ancient asceticism has been linked in modern scholarship to Church
propaganda that elevated the spiritual status of those who rejected traditional
family life in favour of entering new communities of monastic celibacy.78 It is
incorrect to assume that the simple practices of the earliest Christians trans-
lated automatically into an ascetic lifestyle. This privileging of extreme asceti-
cism was generally troubling to many Christians within the fifth century, to
the point that imperial censure was warranted. For example, the fifth-century
emperor Majorian passed laws against the consecration of virgins before the
age of forty and against the practice of disinheriting daughters who wanted to
marry.79 And later, although to modern thinking his injunction seems rather
75 Winter, Roman Wives, 66–67, 138, 140, 160, 203–204.

76 Cf. Elizabeth A. Clark, Ascetic Piety and Women’s Faith: Essays on Late Ancient Christian-
ity (Lewiston, ny: Mellen Press, 1986); Elizabeth A. Clark, Women in the Early Church
(Wilmington: Michael Glazier, Inc., 1982); Gillian Clark, Women in Late Antiquity (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1993). On ascetic imitation of the household construct see Susanna Elm,
“Virgins of God”: The Making of Asceticism in Late Antiquity, Oxford Classical Monographs
(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994).
77 Elizabeth A. Clark, “Devil’s Gateway and Bride of Christ: Women in the Early Christian
World” in Ascetic Piety and Women’s Faith (Lewiston, ny: Mellen Press, 1986), 51. In all
fairness, Clark does discuss Faltonia Betitia Proba as the rare and exceptional wife and
mother, whose roles must have been pleasing to her. Cf. Elizabeth A. Clark, “Faltonia
Betitia Proba and her Virgilian Poem: The Christian Matron as Artist,” in Ascetic Piety and
Women’s Faith (Lewiston, ny: Mellen Press, 1986), 124–171.
78 Elm, “Virgins of God,” 2–9.
79 Arjava, Women and Law, 165–166. These laws speak to some level of social discontent with
compulsory virginity and the very young being consecrated to the Church. “According to
the maiden 85
essentialist, Justinian also legislated against the idealistic assumption of wid-

owhood and the rejection of married life: “We permit women to enter into a
second marriage … whether [they have] children or not … Since nature has
created women for the purpose of giving birth, and they feel a strong desire for
it … we want our state to be increased and filled with people who are begotten
in great numbers.”80 Scholarship has too long omitted the obvious by favouring
the spectacle of ascetic martyrs and saints and ignoring the reality that Chris-
tianity itself would have ceased to exist but for pious and devoted mothers,
fathers, and families.
Christians of late antiquity lived in communities made up of family units
and close friends, in groups largely indistinguishable from non-Christian, Ro-
man households in their structure and function. The familial household is
perhaps the most invisible, yet most influential, of all catalysts to Christian
conversion. We know only a little of Christian family practices during the first
three centuries because of a lack of specific archaeological evidence, it being
mostly indistinguishable from pagan or Jewish family life. However, there are
some differences that should be noted because they point directly toward the
existence of an alternate path to holiness; a higher ideal within the Christian
family where husbands, wives, and children were entitled to mutual love and
respect.
First, parents successfully raised their children to be Christian as noted in the
account of the trial of Justin Martyr (100–ca. 165). Justin’s friend, Paeon, when
asked who taught him to be a Christian and to revere and worship God replies,
“From our parents we received this good confession,” and his friend Euelpistus
confirmed, “I willingly heard the words of Justin. But from my parents also
I learned to be a Christian.”81 Christian parenting and teaching by mothers
and fathers within the familial context better ensured that children would not
depart from that path, even under examination and persecution, even as they
lived in a world where they were constantly justifying themselves and their
beliefs.
Second, with regard to marriage, the admonitions of Paul strengthened the
Roman institution of marriage by imposing a moral obligation on husbands
Ambrose, celibacy was more popular in the east in those regions where the birth rate was
high. He was probably not thinking of any underlying demographic factors. But today the
success of late ancient asceticism is often linked with the need to control the family size.”
80 Codex Iustinianus 6.40.2, as cited in Arjava, Women and Law, 165.
81 The Martyrdom of the Holy Martyrs Justin Martyr, Chariton, Charites, Paeon and Liberianus,
anf 1: 305–306.
86 chapter 2
and wives to love each other, to not put away one’s spouse without good rea-
son, and to practice compassion and benevolence according to the codes pre-
scribed in Ephesians 5:22–6:9 and Colossians 3:18–4:1.82 Within the context
of late antiquity, Christian marriage was defined by Paul as a mysterion, best
translated as a secret religious teaching or rite, later translated into Latin as a
sacramentum, and as such was considered a blessing within the Church. Ter-
tullian (d. c. 225) further expounds on the sacrament and blessing of marriage
in a letter to his wife:
Whence are we to find words enough fully to tell the happiness of that
marriage which the Church cements, and the oblation confirms, and
the benediction signs and seals; which angels carry back the news of to
heaven, which the Father holds ratified? For even on earth children do
not rightly and lawfully wed without their father’s consent.83
Clearly, marriage was promoted as a holy institution within the earliest Church.
Christian sexual ethics, involving virginity and chaste marriage, are often
seen as the primary source of Christian opposition to the decadence of the
late Imperial age. There is, however, some evidence of continuity regarding the
moral expectations within Christian marriage that retains or even reinvents
Roman sentiment and tradition by placing unequalled emphasis on fidelity
and on the permanence of the institution. Kate Cooper emphasizes that, by
the sixth century, “the Roman institution of marriage, as a mechanism for pro-
tecting the legitimacy of a man’s offspring by his chosen reproductive partner,
had been reinvented on terms which would secure its efficacy in a post-Roman
future … A new ideal of permanence of marriage as a bond not only on earth
but also for eternity had taken root in the imaginations of Christian writers and
churchmen … men and women could now aspire to establish a durable, irre-
versible bond.”84 Cooper’s analysis of the literary evidence correlates with the
emergence of the established iconography of the spinning Annunciate and its
relationship to virtuous matronage.
The half-century leading up to the Council of Ephesus in 431 was marked
by tension between “virgins and married women over whose claim to iden-
82 Carl J. Sommer, We Look for a Kingdom: The Everyday Lives of the Early Christians (San
Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2007), 298.
83 Tertullian, To His Wife, 2.8. http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/0404.htm (accessed Jan-
uary 9, 2012).
84 Cooper, Fall, 237–238.
the maiden 87
tify with the Virgin was most compelling.”85 The scholarship of David Hunter
has provided much evidence supporting the role of married householders in
early Christian congregations and has identified the rift between Helvidius,
Jovinian, and Jerome in the 390s as the initial source of contention between
ascetic and non-ascetic factions.86 This divisive wedge is important to under-
stand for at least three reasons; first, it shows that married Christians had an
influential voice in the early centuries of Christianity and considered them-
selves on an equal playing field with increasingly powerful ascetics interested
in the hierarchy of holiness. Second, it reveals the strength and influence of
married Christians, thus the power of matrons on lay piety and the art of the
earliest Church. And third, it is the nascent point of the appropriation of Mary
as the Virgin empress and the decline of Mary’s motherhood.
To follow this argument, there were some in the Church who were quite
vocal regarding the sanctity of marriage and were named heretics for their
cause. Helvidius and likely Jovinian were the targets of Jerome’s work On the
Perpetual Virginity of Mary against Helvidius, in which Jerome exhibits his
excessive bias toward the superiority of virginity over matrimony to discredit
Helvidius, who valued both married and virginal life as equally meritous within
the bounds of Christianity.87
Whether or not it was ultimately deemed heretical, Helvidius’ position,
explained in his work before 383, demonstrates the popular analysis of Mary
as the exemplary mother. Helvidius claims scriptural authority in proposing
Mary as a model of both states of life, perfect virgin and exemplary matron,
when he supported Tertullian’s thought that the “brothers of Jesus” mentioned
in the synoptic Gospels were sons born to Mary and Joseph.88 Both Helvidius
and Jovinian fostered Christian marriage as a viable and desirable state equal
to the lifestyle of the ascetic. In Jovinian’s arguments, baptism became the key
to sanctity and holiness regardless of one’s marital status.
Though he was condemned at the Synod of Milan (390) “for teaching that
all baptized Christians were equal in God’s sight and that all would receive
an equal reward in heaven regardless of ascetic merit,”89 Jovinian (d. c. 405)
has been the subject of recent scholarship that convincingly places his views
85 Cooper, “Contesting the Nativity,” 38.

86 Hunter, Marriage, 1–12. Hunter points to the writings of Jovinian, Helvidius, and the
sympathetic Augustine, in contrast with Jerome, in defending the sacrament of marriage
among early Christians.
88 Gambero, Mary, 205. Tertullian’s arguments can be found in De monogamia 8, 2; pl 2, 989.
89 Hunter, Marriage, 85–87.
88 chapter 2
much closer to mainstream Christianity than previously thought.90 While there

was much interest regarding the ascetic lifestyle, it remained a lesser dominant
social category, though many commentaries and theses set out to argue other-
wise.
Pelagius (d. 420), himself an ascetic, counseled moderation and guidance
to married people in their pursuit of salvation within the married state. Pelag-
ius’ letter to the matron Celantia exemplifies the theologian’s encouragement
regarding her commitment to her husband and family, as well as to Christ. The
letter urges her to find a place for prayer and quiet reading within her house-
hold, “as if to a harbour out of a great storm of cares and there, in the peace
of inner seclusion, calm the turbulent waves of thoughts outside.”91 “This tem-
porary respite from household cares was meant to enhance (not detract from)
Celantia’s fulfillment of her familial duties: ‘Nor do we say this with the purpose
of detaching you from your family; rather our intention is that in that place you
may learn and meditate as to what kind of person you ought to show yourself
to your own kin.’”92 Certainly, this kind of rhetoric is in line with the iconogra-
phy of the spinning Annunciate and moderates the harsh arguments between
Jovinian and Jerome. Mary, spinning at the moment of the Annunciation, was
the prime example of domestic diligence and holy manner amongst matrons,
an actuality that was not contradictory for late antique Christian women. In
fact, the task of spinning busied the hands and allowed for the kind of spiritual
introspection that Pelagius recommended.
In addition to her previous arguments, Kate Cooper has identified how the
Liber ad Gregoriam illustrates well the role that married women played in lay
veneration of the Incarnation. The text itself proclaims “the self-identification
of married women as central to the feast of the nativity, this time under the
aegis of Saint Anastasia … who was herself a married woman and whose feast
day fell on December the 25th:”93
Justly Christ took you up into the heavens on the same day which he
himself descended to Earth, and he permitted the anniversary of your
martyrdom to occur on the same day as the nativity of his assumption
… And just as, having despised majesty, he took on the form of a servant,
so that he might assist us all, so you yourself, having despised the glory of

91 Celsus, Letters 24. Trans. B.R. Rees, The Letters of Pelagius and his Followers (Rochester, ny:
Boydell Press, 1991), 140.
92 Hunter, Marriage, 265.
93 Cooper, “Contesting the Nativity,” 41.
the maiden 89
nobility, took on an ignominy of person, so that you might be imitated by

others, and so that you might provide a model of Christian endurance for
all. You will receive everlasting glory as much because you set an example
for the edification of all matrons as because of your own martyrdom.94
Cooper reads the Liber as an attempt to “foreclose a virginal takeover where

female rituals of the nativity were concerned, by asserting (or inviting) the
participation of married women.”95
For late antique Christian women, images of the Virgin Annunciate spinning
accomplished a similar aim. Meaning was employed metaphorically and liter-
ally within the image as a pattern for virtuous piety and the moral rectitude
of the Christian household. The spinning motif was a powerful signifier for a
broad range of female experience throughout a typical lifespan, and was ulti-
mately cultivated as a model of holiness among women of varied backgrounds.
By association with the Virgin, the spindle and distaff were also at once con-
ventionally familiar and marvelously divine in the hands of the matron. They
were indeed part of the larger scheme of Marian devotion and provided female
devotees with a tangible symbol for the buoyancy of their faith and the confi-
dence of their convictions.
The uncommon valor of the women who tended to the working of wool
and other quotidian household affairs should not go unnoticed. The ascetic
female type, a sexless model that denied women their matronly role and was
in many ways impossible for women to imitate, did not suddenly supplant the
primary Roman roles of wife and mother for Christian women, nor the ideal of
virtuous matronage with the power of its iconographic precedents. It has been
popular for scholars to analyze the emergence of the ascetic lifestyle because
it was an extraordinary practice. However, it is unlikely that most women
would have or could have readily abandoned the roles that had long been
considered not only morally good, but overtly pious, especially when these
same roles also afforded them status, power, and uniquely, posterity. In many
ways, understanding Mary the Annunciate is a visual case study of how the
exception of ascetic celibacy proves the rule of matronly fecundity. To examine
this rule more closely, we must understand Proclus of Constantinople who is,
perhaps, the most prominent theologian who attempts to commandeer the
spindle, distaff, and loom for the virginal ascetic and the imperial household.
94 Liber ad Gregoriam 5; pls 3, 227. Trans. Cooper, “Contesting,” 43.

95 Cooper, “Contesting,” 41.
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7 Proclus and the Constantinopolitan Tradition of Imitatio Mariae
Proclus of Constantinople (d. 446) uses the Virgin’s womb as a formal metaphor
for the loom upon which the body of Christ is woven. Proclus essentially
ignores Mary’s task of spinning at the Annunciation, the moment when she
conceives, and instead emphasizes the process-focused act of weaving, a task
that can be associated with men and thus undertaken by Christ himself. This
essentially limits Mary’s role in the Incarnation to being a vessel for the body
of Christ, without referencing the symbolism of her propriety. Proclus’ cir-
cle of influence in Constantinople among theologians and the Theodosian
household itself underscores his more formalised approach to the Virgin as
Theotokos or semi-divine Mother of God. His formal approach maintains the
guise of cloth working implements like the loom in order to designate her as an
untouched, even ascetic vessel, while, at the same time, minimizing her spin-
ning task which designated her fertile, capable, matronly status.
Proclus spent his early years immersed in the intellectual milieu of Con-
stantinople where philosophers, grammarians, rhetors, statesmen, and theolo-
gians found both acceptance and imperial sanction.96 According to tradition,
Proclus may have had direct contact with John Chrysostom who was his sec-
retary at some point during the latter’s archbishopric in Constantinople. It is
assuredly known, however, that Proclus was associated with Atticus of Con-
stantinople, who would eventually succeed Chrysostom, and was intimately
involved with the imperial family.97 Atticus’ treatise, On Faith and Virginity, was
written for the instruction of the Theodosian princesses and was presumably a
strong admonition of ascetic virginity in the imperial household.98
Proclus’ skill in crafting formal praises to the Virgin is clear evidence that
he was influenced by the ingenious intellectualism and vibrant spiritualism
of his day. By examining the panegyric homilies of Proclus, we find an orator
who, by incorporating both theological and classical rhetoric, crafted a Chris-
tian discourse that appealed to Constantinopolitan sensibilities. Proclus was
well taught in the manner of using structural metaphors as a proper means
for exegesis and he utilized this model to further his own ecclesiastical aspi-
96 Nicolas Constas, Proclus of Constantinople and the Cult of the Virgin in Late Antiquity,
Supplements to Vigiliae Christianae (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2003), 14–15.
97 Constas, Proclus, 14–16.
98 Sozomen indicates that Pulcheria took public vows of virginity in 412 or 413 and that in the
city of Constantinople under Theodosius ii “all of Constantinople was transformed into a
church.” Cf. Kenneth Holum, “Family Life in the Theodosian House,” Kleronomia 8 (1976):
280–292.
the maiden 91
rations. In fact, Atticus and Proclus both enjoyed the support of the empress
Pulcheria, guaranteeing their bishoprics and consequential influence in the
most burgeoningly powerful city of the late ancient world.99
Constantinople was the great bastion for Hellenistic learning in the fifth cen-
tury. Proclus was influenced by its curriculum, manifesting the worldview of
the Christian Roman Empire.100 The Eastern Empire was, at the same time,
keenly aware of the dangers of paganism and the dissipation of Greek cul-
tural mores. Proclus denounced the mythologies and cults of traditional Greek
culture which Rome had incorporated, and at the same time used a distinctly
Greco-Roman typology in his praise of the Virgin. In his comprehensive study
of Proclus, Nicholas Constas observed that Proclus “delivered himself of bril-
liant improvisations on classical symbols, themes and images. These occur pri-
marily in his galaxy of remarkable metaphors for the Mother of God.”101
Although formal religious debates had an impact on the official creeds of the
Orthodox Church, leading inter alia to the definitive title of Theotokos, much of
everyday devotion was still unchecked by the Church and was a source for para-
liturgical practice. Images of the spinning Annunciate adopted into the earliest
Mariological expressions were inherently derived from classical types and were
revered by Christian women within the late imperial era, and perhaps Proclus
was even aware of these types. The antique symbolism for this motif suggests
that it was used to define femininity in a way that defied the ascetic imperatives
of virginity, and instead fostered the opposite sentiment. Good debate is a
hallmark of Christian thought through the ages and it is not surprising to
find dialectics based on antitheses like: virginity and fertility, sterility and
fecundity, humanity and divinity—when examining patristic thought central
to Mariology and its interpretation by Proclus.
The aesthetics of spinning and fibre working were very sensual and mean-
ingful. Fibres are not only seen, but are touched, worked, worn, and handled.
Cloth production, clothing, and textiles were as familiar to the women respon-
sible for these things within the household context, as these women were famil-
iar with the exegetical nature of the same. Proclus recognized the profound and
cosmic attraction of the spinning motif and commandeers the loom into the
specifically virginal workshop to elucidate a sophisticated theology of clothing
99 Constas, Proclus, 38.

100 Constantinople met the standard of the great intellectual cities of the antique world,
Alexandria, Antioch and Athens, with her own “Higher School” founded in 425 under an
edict of the imperial household. Much of the classical canon of philosophy was being
adapted to accommodate Christian doctrine.
92 chapter 2
and dress.102 He assimilated this iconography in order to cement the allegiance

of Christian women who already understood its dynamic interpretations.
In Homily i (the homily that Nestorius heard delivered, and which sparked
the fire of controversy over Mary’s maternal and ordinarily human nature
versus her semi-divine role at Ephesus) Proclus uses familiar metaphors to
explain the economy of the incarnation in terms of a robe ‘woven from above:’
(cf. Jn. 19:32)
She [Mary] is the awesome loom of the divine economy on which the
robe of union was ineffably woven. The loom-worker was the Holy Spirit;
the wool-worker the ‘overshadowing power from on high’ (cf. Lk. 1:35).
The wool was the ancient fleece of Adam; the interlocking thread was
the spotless flesh of the Virgin. The weaver’s shuttle was propelled by the
immeasurable grace of him who wore the robe; the artisan was the Word
who entered in through her sense of hearing.103
Proclus is consistent in his usage of the Virgin’s loom as a metaphor for Mary’s
womb, but he does wax poetic and take some subjective licence as he contrasts
natural conception with the divine conception of Christ in Homily iv:
I seem to hear Nature responding instead of the Virgin, saying, “I am

unable to make garments of flesh without the mingling of a man. Besides,
my loom produced only soiled garments. I clothed Adam, but he was
stripped naked and he covered his shame with the leaves of a fig-tree.”
In order, then, to mend the ruined robe, Wisdom became a weaver in the
virginal workshop, and, by means of a shuttle propelled by divine artifice,
she clothed herself in the robe of the body.104
As Constas has noted, Proclus imagines the regeneration of Christ’s body in the
form of a garment and deems them appropriate for sermons delivered on or in
conjunction with the Nativity feast celebrating the public adventus of God in
the flesh.105 The Antiochene and Alexandrian churches came together over the
symbolism of Christ’s body being fashioned of extraordinary cloth and they
both link the ‘unwoven tunic’ of his body with the Incarnation as well as the

103 Proclus, Homily i, 1.24–31; in Constas, Proclus, 137.
104 Proclus, Homily iv, 2.69–76; in Constas, Proclus, 233.
the maiden 93
Passion.106 Much of the debate that existed within Christianity during the fifth
century was semantic and subjectively imprecise, yet the indivisible union of
Christ’s divine nature with his mortal body remained the orthodox position
and, as such, supported a relationship between the Church and the Marian cult.
Proclus’ homilies were at the heart of fifth-century Christological debates,
and yet we must also recognize that Proclus and his contemporaries had reli-
gious as well as political agendas that informed their interpretations of the
Virgin and femininity in general. These agendas unfairly promote the ascetic
nuance of patristic sources and privilege virginity as an exclusive emblem
of female virtue and the principal source of holiness. This view is necessar-
ily deformed as ecclesiastical commentary on spindles, distaffs, and looms
describes these implements only within the context of extensive theological
metaphor.
7.1 Proclus and the Empress Pulcheria

Pulcheria had been tutored from a young age in the Mariological model of
virginity according to the discourses of Archbishop Atticus who consistently
associated holiness and salvation with ascetic practice.107 She understood the
irreproachable power of the Virgin’s image and appropriated it herself in order
to substantiate her own legitimacy within the imperial household.108
Pulcheria, with the help of Proclus of Constantinople, created her own
story of her virginal association with the Church and would remove from

107 Atticus wrote the treatise, On Faith and Virginity, which does not survive, however, Constas
surmises from Francis Thomson’s work that the content may have been similar to other
writings promoting the same behaviour: “And you women, who give birth in Christ and
have cast off filth and have participated in the blessing of holy Mary, you too accept in the
womb by faith Him who is born today of the Virgin; for holy Mary, having first purified by
faith the temple of her womb, then accepted into the temple the king of the ages, having
made her members worthy of the kingdom.” Francis J. Thomson, “The Slavonic Translation
of the Hitherto Untraced Greek Homilia in Nativitatem Domini Nostri Jesu Christi by Atticus
of Constantinople,” Analecta Bollandiana 118 (2000): 19.
108 Pulcheria, as the virgin Augusta, began the construction of three churches dedicated
to the Virgin Theotokos: the church of the Theotokos at Blachernai; the church of the
Theotokos of the Hodegoi—which also housed in its reliquary the Virgin’s “sacred spindle”
(pg 146, 1061 ab) as cited in Constas, Proclus, 348, n. 76; and the church of the Theotokos
of Chalkoprateia. According to tradition, Pulcheria received the sacrament at an altar that
had been “dedicated by Pulcheria during a public ceremony in which she took a solemn
vow of virginity. Covering the table was one of Pulcheria’s costly robes which now served
as an altar cloth.” Constas, Proclus, 348, n. 76–349.
94 chapter 2
power anyone who threatened her status, notably Nestorius. She assumed the
classical role of virginal goddess, protector of all things sacred, and benefactress
of women across the spectrum of female experience as she practiced the
imitation of Mary. In his Historia Ecclesiastica, Sozomen relates the activities
of the cloistered empress and her “sisters” who avoided men, walked together,
sang praises to God, refrained from levity, flamboyant attire or cosmetics, and
spent time weaving and embroidering.109 There is no particular mention of
spinning in reference to Pulcheria’s actions, which may be due to the fact
that she exhibited herself as a virgin, not a married or espoused woman.
As previously discussed, classical Greek literature distinguished between the
activities of spinning and weaving, each signifying the marital status of the
practitioner with spinning reserved specifically for married women.110
Constas’ scholarly focus emphasizes Pulcheria as the late antique ideal of
femininity, yet her particular circumstances of imperial birth and alliance with
the Church placed her in an elite position that most women did not and could
not imitate. Proclus praises Pulcheria’s ascetic vows and her example of gener-
ously donating to the Church, thereby gaining imperial favour that would ulti-
mately sustain the orthodox position during the days that followed the Council
at Ephesus.111 Both parties, the imperial household and the Church, mutually
benefitted by their relationship and were ultimately destined to establish the
exclusive role of ascetic behaviour in determining the holy demarcation of
individuals like Pulcheria. Simultaneous to this phenomenon, most Christian
women of the fifth century, like all women of preceding centuries, assumed
the roles of sister, daughter, wife, and mother, roles that did not necessarily
preclude them from approaching holiness or considering themselves righteous
and virtuous.
While Proclus used ordinary household objects and textile production in his
rhetorical exposition on the Virgin and Pulcheria, he did not access the iconog-
raphy of spinning except through elaborate theological discourse. Proclus uses
the female personification of Wisdom as the master weaver, which produces
109 Sozomen, Historia Ecclesiastica, 9.3.2; cited in Constas, Proclus, 349.

111 Proclus, Homily 12, pg 65, 788b, as cited in Constas, Proclus, 348 n. 77. “Marvel at the
magnanimity of the empress which has provided spiritual blessings to all … she is a virgin
who has consecrated herself to Christ, and through her piety she has distributed great
wealth; she has mortified her flesh with respect to the passions, and contains the crucified
one in the bridal chamber of her soul; and she herself marvels at the baptismal font that
is both a virgin and the mother of many.”
the maiden 95
the divine body, even the tunic without seam.112 But he does not elaborate on
the tradition of Proverbs 31 in revealing Woman Wisdom’s status as a married
woman, a wife who personifies Wisdom itself, presumably because this does
not fit his schema.
Constas concludes that the metaphor of the loom and the details of cloth
production clarified the Orthodox position on Christ’s nature and made the
argument against the heretic Nestorius convincing to the lay population.113
However, the spindle and distaff were recognized primarily as tools that sig-
nified matronly status within the household and in no way denied the intellec-
tual, philosophical, and spiritual sophistication of wives and mothers. Constas
clearly bases his analysis on the fact that these metaphors were commonplace,
but, in doing so, he goes beyond the simplest interpretations and associates
this imagery with asceticism in the strictest sense. Proclus’ familiarity and focus
on the detailed aspects of textile production suggests that they were recogniz-
able and even proverbial within ecclesiastical circles although he focuses on
the workings of Christ on the loom of Mary’s womb, and disregards her act of
spinning at the Annunciation. Constas associates Proclus’ proclivities toward
the image of the Virgin as a loom with his contact with the imperial household,
especially relating to the Empress Pulcheria and prominent Constantinopoli-
tan women within her immediate circle.114
Hearkening back to the words of John Chrysostom, whose influence was
felt by Proclus, “It is possible for a woman holding a distaff and working at
the loom to look up to heaven with the eyes of her mind and to call with
ardor upon God.”115 Limiting female sacred experience to the ascetic virginal
type is more essentialist and detrimental than seeing the female role within
the familial construct as limited, and therefore ignoring it or dismissing it as
inconsequential. Again, there are allusions to the continuity and sanctity of
family life found within theological writings, but it is imperative to understand
that the iconography of the spindle and distaff was immediately associated
with the virtuous role of marriageable women, wives, and mothers, long before
it was commandeered by ascetic nuance.
Scholars like Constas have also considered the Church in light of the new
liturgical feasts and celebrations that focused primarily on the Virgin. Constas
suggests that the growth of the Church and its codified Mariology demon-
strated an escalation in ascetic life; be it in new monasteries being built or

115 John Chrysostom, De Anna (pg 54, 668a), as cited in Constas, Proclus, 350 n. 83.
96 chapter 2
in the example of the Empress Pulcheria, who practiced a form of imitatio

Mariae within the walls of the imperial household.116 What has been omitted or
largely ignored is the overwhelming evidence that the spinning imagery assim-
ilated into the rhetoric and church doctrine on the Virgin did not come from an
ascetic type, rather it came from quite the opposite end of the devotional spec-
trum and demonstrates that asceticism, though it is frequently noted because
it was extraordinary practice, was not the dominant practice among Chris-
tian women. Perhaps this is why Proclus, surrounded by the splendour and
Orthodox theology of Constantinople, chose to ignore it altogether. The spindle
and distaff provided powerful exegetical symbols that defined femininity and
female power among Christian women of all circumstances without becom-
ing stereotypical or simply mundane. In fact, these fibre-working symbols were
readily understood by women and it is only our modern sentiments regarding
what defined women as extraordinary or holy that get in the way of understand-
ing the fifth-century fascination with this type, not only among ascetics or the
imperial elite, but particularly among ordinary wives and mothers.
8 Imitatio Mariae and the Syriac Tradition of the Domestic

Annunciation
In contrast to Proclus’ virginal womb as a metaphor for weaving Christ’s body,

the Syriac tradition actually focuses on the domestic setting as appropriate to
the Annunciation. It is important to recognize that Christian use of symbols
was religious not in the sense that it was dependent upon a specific liturgical
function to disseminate meaning, but that it was spiritually oriented. In his epic
work on Christian iconography, André Grabar compares image, symbols, and
iconography to language. Although iconography does not have a specifically
defined vocabulary like spoken language, it can be as effective as words are in
communicating meaning.117 To this end, it is important to assess late antique
Syriac texts, which illuminate the subject of the Annunciation and its connec-
tion to spinning, realia, domesticity, and the spiritual household.
In her groundbreaking work on olfactory function within the ancient Chris-
tian world, Susan Ashbrook Harvey has rightly associated early Christian wor-
ship with a heightened sense of the physical body and its role in spiritual

the maiden 97
sanctification.118 Although her research is particularly focused on Syriac asceti-

cism, it also reveals the general notion of and connection between physical-
ity and sanctification within the wider framework of late ancient Christianity.
The fourth-century theologian, Ephrem the Syrian (c. 306–373), reasoned that
“sanctification specifically included the capacity to reflect and encounter the
divine within the physical world … (and) The sanctified human body could
know something of God through its own physicality.”119 Cyril of Jerusalem,
another fourth-century theologian, likewise championed the human body as
God’s workmanship that was neither a hindrance nor an obstacle to salva-
tion.120 The body housing the spirit was necessary for the sanctifying process
and could receive divine revelation by and through its senses in order to per-
ceive holy things in the physical world.121
This fourth-century paradigm informed the theology of the Incarnation
and therefore the realia of the Annunciation. Indeed, Ephrem emphasizes the
physicality of the moment when Mary conceives Christ:
Although He was begotten, indeed He was in you [Mary]

So that entirely gazing out from your members
Was his brightness, and upon your beauty was spread
His love, and upon all of you He was stretched out.
You wove a garment for Him, but His glory extended
Over all your senses.122
Mary’s body is the means through which Christ gained mortality, and his glory
was knowable through the senses. Additionally, Mary’s body was necessary to
Christ’s salvific role, thus the consequence of the Annunciation as a physical
and tactile event. Again, from the Syriac tradition, the early Dormition texts
from the fifth century note Mary’s reminiscence of the Annunciation;123 that
after Gabriel’s greeting she was filled with the Holy Ghost and “a sweet odor
118 Harvey, Scenting, 1–9.

119 Harvey, Scenting, 61.
120 Cyril of Jerusalem, Catechetical Homilies 4.33; trans. McCauley and Stephenson in The
Works of Saint Cyril of Jerusalem (Washington, dc: The Catholic University of America
Press, 1969), vol. i, 130.
122 Ephrem, Hymns on Nativity 28.7; trans. McVey, Ephrem the Syrian, Hymns (Paulist Press,
1989), 216.
98 chapter 2
was diffused through the whole house; and the foundations of the house too
sent forth waves of odors through the whole quarter.”124
Susan Harvey has also highlighted the patristic imagery of housekeeping and
housework and elaborated on the fourth-century verse of Ephrem the Syrian as
a source of ascetic piety:
Let us become builder of our minds into temples fitting for God.
When the master dwells in your house honour comes to your doorstep.
…
For your mind to become a temple, do not leave filth in it.
Do not leave in the house of God anything hateful to God.
Let the house of God be adorned with whatever is proper for God.
…
Bring in and set love there, a censer full of fragrance.
Sweep and cast out dung from there, hateful company and habits.
Scatter in it good doings like flowers and like blossoms.
And instead of rose or lilies, adorn it with prayers.125
Syriac asceticism in particular, and Christian devotion in general, focused on

the individual enactment of liturgical processes,126 whether they were officially
conducted or privately practiced. Indeed, to cleanse oneself inside and out,
and then to extend that cleanliness to one’s house, household, and community
was the basis of Christian sanctification and is reflected in Ephrem’s verse.
The woman who sanctifies these physical places also does the will of God, not
because she can pray as she toils, but because God dwells in holy vessels and is
pleased with order, cleanliness, sweet smells, beautiful things, abundance, and
adornment.
This same sentiment is presented in Jacob of Serug’s (ca. 451–521) sixth-
century homily that describes Mary’s preparations for the Annunciation. Mary
receives the angel Gabriel as he brings his announcement. She then sets about
cleansing and beautifying herself and her surroundings:
She gathered and removed all [improper] reckonings from her mind.
She sprinkled her pure temple with love before the Holy One.
She swept her house with the holiness that was within her,
124 Syriac Dormition, in William Wright, Contributions to the Apocryphal Literature of the New
Testament (London: Williams & Norgate, 1865), 34.
125 Ephrem, Verse Homily 2.93–123; trans. Harvey, Scenting, 183.
the maiden 99
And she embellished its inner walls with all kinds [of acts] of reverence.
Again in it she set in order the good signets of perfection.
She replenished it with blossoms of all manners of modesty.
She leveled its land [Mk 1:3] with the choice implements of virginity.
She hung up ornaments, crowns of praises of watchful care.
She took up and laced tighter veils out of chastity;
She spread out and stretched out spacious garments of watchfulness.
She poured out as oil, good deeds in her lamp
And her great flame has been inflamed in the temple of her body.
She burned the fragrance of her prayers warmly
So that the pure fire of her faith should serve as incense.
She threw, as sweet spices, the sounds of praise into the fire of her love,
And from her thanksgiving breathed the fragrance of choice incense.
…
And while the house was made radiant by these things in a holy
manner,
The son of the King entered and dwelt in the shrine of virginity.127
Susan Harvey suggests that Jacob’s account transforms housekeeping into

church cleansing and the ritual preparations of liturgical offering. Yet, while
prayer and incense became part of official church liturgy, here the most holy
experience is described within the domestic realm and with nothing of eccle-
siastical interruption or an actual church building mentioned.
Just as divine presence is “activated by and cognitively known through heav-
enly fragrance,”128 so it can be argued that divine presence was also known
materially through the tactile act of spinning at the Annunciation. Spinning,
as performed by Mary, functioned as a marker of her virtue at the very moment
that the physical creation of Christ’s body is announced by the angel Gabriel.
To spin was to imitate Mary, the mother of Christ, and to participate in a virtu-
ously elevated role in the everyday world that was also part of sacred Christian
ritual. To spin was, for Christian women, to act in the role of the industrious
creatrix, the Christian matron.
127 Jacob of Serug, On the Nativity 1. 391–410; trans. Thomas Kollamparampil, Jacob of Serugh:
Select Festal Homilies (Rome: Centre for Indian and Inter-Religious Studies, 1997), 59–60.
100 chapter 2
9 Conclusions: Work as a Sacred Conversation and a Life Pleasing to

God
Spinning as a pre-eminent task for women did continue to infiltrate all social
classes from slave to aristocrat and remained an exclusive part of the house-
hold economy until the sixth century when the textile industry gained a con-
centrated momentum under the reign of Justinian. He passed legislation that
forbade the purchase of imported silk by ordinary citizens and tried to fix low
prices for silk produced within the empire to encourage national production.129
By the tenth century, many independent guilds replaced government oversight
of the textile industry and instituted profitable silk production; export and
trade expanded to the worldwide market. Despite the larger production pro-
cess that developed around silk, the spinning task of wool retained much of
the ordinary and cultic aspects associated with it throughout antiquity and well
into the later Byzantine world.130
Associating the domestic task of spinning with the mortal motherly role
of Mary during late antiquity naturally elevated the craft considerably and
increased the accessibility of the Virgin as intercessor because she participated
in mundane tasks and understood the physicality of the world. Thus, female
viewers during late antiquity could interpret this image, not only in a metaphys-
ical or allegorical way, but also as the practical and ordinary materialization of
womanhood.
Cloth production was a daily reality for women who were primarily respon-
sible for clothing their families. Spinning was work that had to be integrated
into the everyday routine of family life. The nature of spinning as work was
time consuming and tedious. It was also portable and could be easily picked
up or set down at any time. Women spun while they nursed or cared for chil-
dren, cooked, and travelled to the market. They spent nearly the same amount
of time in cloth production as in food production and preparation and some-
times were doing both at the same time.
129 Nicolas Oikonomides, “Silk Trade and Production in Byzantium from the Sixth to the
Ninth Century: The Seals of Kommerkiaroi,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 40 (1986): 33.
130 The Codex Parsinus Graecus of 1182 includes the treatise “On the Female Festival of Agathe”
by Michael Psellos, describing an annual festival “devoted to and run by women, a festival
with some religious overtones … and representation of the art of cloth-making.” Angeliki
Laiou, “The Festival of ‘Agathe’: Comments on the Life of Constantinopolitan Women,” in
Gender, Society, and Economic Life in Byzantium (Hampshire: Variorum, 1992), 122.
the maiden 101
Most work in antiquity was tedious, but that did not change the fact that
sometimes work was a pleasure. Admonishments to this end were part of
the fourth-century ascetic movement according to St. Basil of Caesarea. Basil
advised as to the productivity and industry of work when he said, “Let all things
be done decently and in order,”131 and instructed that work was not merely a
distraction from worldly excesses, but was an end in itself and was meant to
edify life and produce abundance in order to do good to others.132 Basil’s rejec-
tion of bodily austerities and the heremetical forms of monasticism found in
Egypt and Syria provides excellent proof that cenobitic or community life was
synonymous with Christian living, even in less institutionalized conventions
where the model for communal associations had always been the traditional
familial structure, no matter how it was amended or diluted in later years.
Abundance, order, and creativity were hallmarks of both the spinning task
and matronly piety during late antiquity. Time spent accomplishing mundane
household tasks was also time for personal spiritual insights and revelation.
Mundane tasks could lend themselves to the influence of other musings and
sacred conversations, for certainly not all menial tasks were accompanied by
gossip and banal thoughts. The close connection between matronly virtue
and personal introspection were deeply imbedded in the iconography of the
Virgin Annunciate spinning, an iconography that was celebrated by Christian
householders in particular.
The depiction of the Annunciation, above all other events in the Marian
cycle, renders itself intimately familiar to the female viewer who was a partic-
ipant in the cult of the Virgin. The earliest spinning Annunciate iconography
presents Mary as a “Handmaid of the Lord,” a young woman within the domes-
tic space, holding a spindle and distaff, before she was assigned her designated
role as Theotokos. The relative abundance of small, personal objects discussed
here and in proceeding chapters is clear evidence that spinning iconography
was popular, not just for allegorical interpretation, but because this iconogra-
phy conceals nothing at all—it simply shows a young woman spinning with
implements common to everyday life. In its simple representation, it reveals a
powerful type for Mary that immediately related to the realia of the Christian
matron.
131 1 Cor. 14:40.

132 Augustine Holmes, A Life Pleasing to God (Kalamazoo, mi: Cistercian Publications, 2000),
191, 235–240.
chapter 3
The Matron
Aemilia Aeonia, Mother

Next I will sing of you, Aeonia, who gave me birth, in whom was min-
gled the blood of a mother from Tarbellae and of an Aeduan father. In
you was found every virtue of a duteous wife, chastity renowned, hands
busy spinning wool, truth to your bridal vows, pains to bring up your chil-
dren: sedate were you yet friendly, sober yet bright. Now that forever you
embrace your husband’s peaceful shade, still cheer in death his tomb, as
once in life you cheered his bed.1
∵
Ausonius’ Parentalia poetically recalls ancient Latin epithets common to ad-
mirable wifely behaviour to describe the women of his family. Though he con-
verted to Christianity, these fourth-century poems recall attributes typical of
the idealized Roman matron to describe his mother, wife, sister, sister-in-law,
and his nephew’s wife. They repeat formulaic words of praise like pudica, gravis,
and lanificum manus to describe their virtues and actions without any overt
Christian sentiment. However, these epithets are not mere anecdotes estab-
lished by an ancient moralist who insisted on keeping up traditional appear-
ances without consideration for real-life sentiment toward those memorial-
ized.2 The virtues and characteristics used to memorialize Ausonius’ female
family members were deeply nuanced and symbolic. They signified power and
status for married and marriageable women alike, and were ultimately chosen
as defining traits for both deceased pagan and Christian women. These merits
and virtues were combined with the idealized symbols of wool, spindle, and
distaff and directed toward a visually literate audience. Whether these motifs
were derived from women’s own preferences and desires or from patriarchal
imperative is largely unknowable. However, we must not disregard the possi-
1 Decimus Magnus Ausonius, Parentalia ii.iv, trans. Hugh G. Evelyn White (London: William
Heinemann; Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1919), 61.
2 Riet Van Bremen, “Women and Wealth,” in Averil Cameron and Amelie Kuhrt, eds., Images of
Women in Antiquity (Detroit: Wayne State Press, 1993), 223–242.

the matron 103
bility that late antique women appropriated these motifs as preferred iconog-
raphy, identifying them as emblems of their own ritual and domestic tasks, and
choosing them as potent symbols on objects that they wore and owned.3
One of the end purposes of the spinning Annunciate iconography was to
underscore the aim of holy motherhood and the maintenance of family life
as specific ideals common to fifth-century devotees. While many these fifth-
century objects refer directly to daily life, fertility, and the spiritual nature of
personal adornment, they also reflect the increased visibility and popularity to
which Christianity, in general, became accustomed. Devotion to one’s matronly
role was considered sacrosanct during the fifth century and women wielded
powerful influence by accepting this role as they moved between the varied
phases of family life.
Marriage rings, fertility armbands, and pendants were popular objects rep-
resenting the Christian matronly ideal and were also used to insure fecundity
within marriage. This chapter includes a thorough examination of fifth-century
Christian marriage, some consequences of bearing children, and the impetus
to create spiritual sanctuaries within the household.4 Marriage could be a social
and spiritual commitment that involved affection and the promise of eternal
familial union, giving pause to the notion that married people were second-
class citizens enduring the drudgery of daily living and unpleasant relation-
ships.5
Early Byzantine marriage rings and amulets, though forming a relatively
small corpus of material objects, provide us with compelling evidence of pre-
Christian types and motifs integrated into popular Christian marriage iconog-
raphy. The use of the Virgin Annunciate spinning as the sole iconography on
three early Byzantine marriage rings overtly unites this tangible object with
the classic virtues of matronly modesty, piety, and productivity. Nearly ten per-
3 Carolyn Connor, Women of Byzantium (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2004), ch. 5 passim.
Connor has identified multiple examples of early Byzantine women as donors, sponsors,
owners, and wearers of material objects. She acknowledges that although commissions by
women can be impossible to ascertain, there are patterns of use and iconography, especially
associated with things like jewellery, amulets, silks, and other objects of adornment that were
sympathetic to women’s interests, desires, and protection.
4 Kate Cooper, The Fall of the Roman Household (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
2007), xi. Cooper’s work on this topic presents ample and compelling evidence that “Chris-
tianization of marriage is a late Roman, not a medieval, problem,” an argument brought to
bear in the West during the fifth and sixth centuries. In addition, she argues favourably for
the “evolving ideal of marriage” in Christian family life.
5 Gillian Clark, Women in Late Antiquity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993), 13–15; 98–101.
104 chapter 3
cent of the known corpus of eighty-one rings that specifically feature Christian
iconography, show the spinning Annunciate iconography.6 To achieve appro-
priate interpretative outcomes with regard to these rings, it is important to pay
careful attention to the iconographic cues consistent with late ancient custom.
It is also important to examine the practices and negotiations in late antique
marriage that focused on perpetuating familial connections, property inheri-
tance, and progeny. This chapter investigates marriage rings that feature the
Virgin Annunciate spinning, along with other material objects associated with
marriage and fertility. It will also explore the continuity of images on non-
Christian prototypes and the burgeoning Christian identity in matters of family
law and ecclesiastical controversy. Marriage rings provide overriding icono-
graphic evidence that the object itself expressly promoted successful fertility
and parturition through the marital union. Finally, this chapter will discuss the
notion that late antique ideals were recognizable as marked ideals to aspire to,
and not necessarily aligned with practice in life.
1 Marriage Art and Marriage Rings
A series of scholarly debates has developed around early Byzantine marriage

art including arguments and responses written by Gary Vikan, Ernst Kitzinger,
and Alicia Walker. Vikan has argued that marriage rings had amuletic, medici-
nal or even magical properties meant to protect the wearer and facilitate child-
birth.7 In response, Kitzinger argued for a more generic interest in protecting
the married couple and their union without pointing to health or medical mat-
ters.8 Walker sided with Kitzinger and argued, “a connection with birth facilita-
tion is not strongly supported by the iconography or inscriptions of the rings.”9
Further, Walker contended that specific inscriptions protected the marriage
6 Of the eighty-one rings listed in the Index of Christian Art, which date to the late ancient
period, seven display Annunciation scenes, and three of these seven feature the sole iconog-
raphy of the spinning Annunciate on the bezel.
7 Gary Vikan, “Art, Medicine and Magic in Early Byzantium,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 38 (1984):
65–72.
8 Ernst Kitzinger, “Reflections on the Feast Cycle in Byzantine Art,” Cahiers archéologiques
36 (1988): 51–73. In responding to Kitzinger, Vikan stated, “Kitzinger, apparently unaware
of Byzantine marriage legislation and hygia [sic] rings, failed to recognize the inherently
complementary nature of concord and health in his analysis of Byzantine marriage ring
iconography,” in Gary Vikan, “Art and Marriage,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 44 (1990): 155, n. 79.
9 Alicia Walker, “Myth and Marriage in Early Byzantine Marriage Jewellery,” in Anne L. Mc-
the matron 105
generally from charms or pagan love spells meant to disrupt or destroy the
union.10 Considering that love was not valued as a requisite of marriage and
was instead considered by Christians as a virtue that developed over time under
the blessing and protection of God, Walker’s view that early Byzantine marriage
rings acted as love amulets should not be considered the primary purpose or
function of such objects. Unfortunately, all three art historians did not focus
much attention on interpreting the loca sancta images inscribed on the rings
as anything more than visual narrative adopted from sixth-century pilgrimage
objects from the Holy Land. This oversight has obscured the fact that Annunci-
ation imagery, with Mary spinning wool from a basket with spindle and distaff,
was familiar, didactic, and highly intentional. The iconography of the Annun-
ciate spinning, when chosen to decorate objects associated with marriage, also
implied fertility and successful parturition. Mary spinning at the moment of
the Annunciation combined the sacred epiphany with the domestic task and
underscored such notions. This image was proof of a holy relationship between
the material world and the sacred, with no contradiction between the two.11
To underscore the notable use of Annunciation iconography on marriage
rings, it is necessary to set the imagery within a wider context. Other scenes
shown on the eighty or so rings noted in Princeton’s Index of Christian Art
include images of couples, monograms, inscriptions, animals such as sheep and
birds, the women at the sepulchre, the cross, Chi-Rho, and portraits of Christ.
All of this imagery can be interpreted as highly selective with the intimate
nature of inscriptions, monograms, and portraiture being the most personal-
ized. Christological symbolism and images of the early life of Christ, including
the women at the sepulchre, also express a level of intimate devotion as rings
were worn daily and were familiar possessions. The iconography underscores
Clanan and Karen Rosoff Encarnacion, eds., The Material Culture of Sex, Procreation, and
Marriage in Premodern Europe (New York: Palgrave, 2002), 59.
10 Walker cites the inscribed words ἁρμωνία (harmony) and χάρις (grace or charm) which
appear both on marriage rings and in magical texts to identify these Byzantine marriage
rings as love amulets which comply with ecclesiastical condemnation of magical prac-
tices while still resonating with non-Christian amuletic properties. Cf. Walker, “Myth and
Marriage,” 63–69.
11 Barbara Goff has discussed the interplay between ritual and domestic work within the
Greek world as manipulative and exploitative. This combination continued throughout
the ancient world to convince women that work brought them sanctification, when it
was meant as an oppressive burden. While there were probable instances for her argu-
ment, Goff assumes that domesticity and all aspects of the household were burdensome,
without joy or merit in and of themselves. See Barbara Goff, Citizen Bacchae (Berkeley:
University of California Press, 2004), 60–61.
106 chapter 3
and elevates the spinning task and the maternal role as the betrothed Mary par-
ticipates in this sacred task in the same moment she is to literally become the
mother of Christ.
The image of the Virgin Annunciate spinning must be recognized, not only
because it is visual propaganda for good housewifery, but because it accentu-
ated the connection between the domestic tasks of good women who worked
wool (lanam fecit) and the spiritual interaction of God with Mary. At the very
least it intimated that God is involved, in a far-reaching sense, with the spiritu-
ality of women. This iconography becomes highly charged especially when it
is used in conjunction with objects associated with marriage and consistantly
worn by women.
2 The Annunciation as Privileged Iconography: Ring Descriptions
A simple gold and niello marriage ring (fig. 16), preserved in the British Mu-
seum, bearing the image of the Annunciation on its large, square-lobed bezel
(1.9cm), has occasionally been described for its decoration and inscription in
catalogues and inventories of early Christian antiquities.
It is most often grouped with other pieces of jewellery associated with mar-
riage and is always overlooked in its own collection catalogues in favour of
elaborations on the omonya gold marriage ring. It has received no serious con-
sideration as a part of the larger iconographic body of Annunciation images
from earliest Christianity. It is unfortunate that this ring has, thus far, gone
unnoticed since it illustrates certain values of marriage in late ancient Chris-
tianity.
This ring, made from a substantial amount of gold,12 was most probably
owned and worn by a woman of some affluence. The quality of the decoration
and the amount of wear may indicate that, though cast in a precious material
and less common than silver or bronze, this gold ring was worn often, probably
as everyday jewellery. The bezel showcases the full figures of the angel Gabriel
and Mary at the moment of Annunciation. Mary, nimbed, is seated in a three-
quarter pose on a schematic, high-backed chair with her wool basket in her lap
and a possible spindle protruding out to the right. She wears a mantle and dress
accentuated by niello, and her face is worn and crude in its depiction. Gabriel,
12 I do not know the exact weight of the ring or the purity of the gold, but when I handled
the ring in the study rooms of the British Museum, its heft was significant in comparison
to other rings found in the same exhibition case. Given the hoop’s small diameter of
approximately 23 mm, it likely belonged to a woman.
the matron 107
figure 16 Gold Annunciation ring, London, British Museum, fifth–sixth

century ad
shown standing in profile, is also nimbed and faces the Virgin with his wing(s)
folded in profile behind him. Although Mary is seated, she appears to be larger
in stature than Gabriel.
The hoop of the ring is octagonal in shape with a flat surface and an inscrip-
tion from Luke 1:28 relating the angelic salutation; Hail, thou that art highly
favoured, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women. The hoop is well
worn, especially at the back where the text is no longer visible. The rest of the
ring also shows multiple and varied scratches typical of a gold ring worn con-
sistently over a long period. The bezel is attached to the hoop at a point slightly
off centre. Without doubt this ring was valued, valuable, and well-loved. Refer-
ring to the iconographic precedents for the spindle and distaff discussed earlier
helps us recognize the familiar associations and nuances included in the scene.
The characteristics of industry, productivity, fertility, and strength along with
seemly behaviour are now attributed to Mary and, by association, the woman
who wore the ring itself. These symbols could also specifically reference Mary’s
fecundity and the ring’s simple octagonal design and inscription may have been
perceived as gynaecologically apotropaic in nature.
For purposes of comparison we can look at other marriage rings of the same
period, roughly dating between the fifth and seventh centuries, for examples of
similar styles and iconography. Six other rings feature Annunciation iconogra-
108 chapter 3
figure 17 Peter and Theodote ring, Dumbarton Oaks, Washington, dc,

fifth–sixth century ad
© dumbarton oaks, byzantine collection,
washington, dc
phy. Four rings located in London, Washington, d.c., Baltimore, and Palermo
include the spinning Annunciate as the first of seven scenes around the hoop
showing the early life of Christ, his passion, and the women at the empty
sepulchre (fig. 17). These same scenes are traditionally featured on ampullae,
amuletic armbands, and marriage rings with images of Mary spinning a con-
spicuous rove of wool. In his study of this type of object, Gary Vikan concludes
that the scenes evoked a general sense of the “Holy Land” because of the inte-
gral connection these important biblical events had to the land itself.13 Beyond
a casual association with talismanic phrasing and magical signs,14 Vikan does
not investigate the spinning Annunciate iconography in detail.
Surely, multiple Christological scenes on a single object had some connec-
tion to each other beyond illustrating the chronological narrative. On amuletic
armbands and the ampullae, for example, we find the Annunciation, the Visi-
tation, the Nativity, the Adoration, the Baptism, the Crucifixion, the Women at
the Tomb, and the Ascension. These events were meant as a kind of “witness
13 Gary Vikan, Byzantine Pilgrimage Art (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1982), 41.
14 Note that the apotropaic symbols of the pentalpha and Holy Rider appear on the arm-
bands. The octagonal hoop of the Dumbarton Oaks marriage ring is also apotropaic in
nature.
the matron 109
cycle” through which God’s ways were made known to humanity through
remarkable events beyond their ken. Each event maintained witnesses that
proclaimed the miraculous connection between heaven and earth. It is remark-
able that most of these witness scenes involve women. For the late antique
viewer, these scenes could function in the same way as the literature of the
apologists, visually legitimizing the divinity of Jesus by way of divine acts,
intercession, or miracles. The scenes of the Annunciation, Visitation, Nativ-
ity and Adoration are scenes that specifically witness or recognise the miracle
of Christ’s birth and could have been invoked by those seeking to imitate the
role of mother to successful ends or simply to evoke miraculous acts in their
own lives. Further, scenes of Baptism, Crucifixion, and the empty tomb speak
to victory over death through Christ, bringing these scenes full circle in demon-
strating the hope for Christian salvation in late antiquity.15
Unlike the four marriage rings which feature the Annunciation on the octag-
onal hoop, with or without a wool basket or spindles, the marriage ring in the
British Museum (inv. Dalton no. 121) features the scene on the bezel. Two other
rings with the same prominent iconography on the bezel are found in Athens
at the Benaki Museum (inv. no. 1830) and in Paris at the Cabinet des Médailles
(fig. 18).16 Like the London example, these rings also have wide polygonal hoops.
The Benaki ring shows Gabriel on the right with Mary on the left. Both fig-
ures stand flanking a wool basket with a thick rove of wool extending up to
Mary’s hand. As with the London example, the faces and bodies are schemati-
cally depicted and detail is kept to a minimum.
The gold marriage ring in the Cabinet des Médailles, Paris, invokes the Virgin
on behalf of a woman named Giora (fig. 18). It features simple figures of the
Angel Gabriel and Mary, the former gesturing toward the later on the right,
and both acting as holy parentheses to the prominent wool basket and thick
rove held in Mary’s right hand. Two specific details are identifiable here; first,
along with the basket and rove, Mary holds a large spindle in her left hand and
second, the Angel Gabriel does not have wings. The details of the spindle and
wool basket are significant because they clearly connect the Virgin with the
15 Salvific hopes and a view toward immortality were part of Christian beliefs as evidenced
in this simple third-century epitaph: “Discreet Maritima, you have not left the sweet light.
For you have with you Christ who is immortal through all things. For it is ever piety that
leads you on.” cig 9687 in Richmond Lattimore, Themes, 302.
16 Cf. Robin Cormack and Maria Vassilaki, eds., Byzantium: 330–1453 (London: Royal Acad-
emy of Arts, 2008), 215–216; Brigitte Pitkaris, “Female Piety in Context,” in Images of the
Mother of God: Perceptions of the Theotokos in Byzantium, Maria Vassilaki, ed. (Aldershot:
Ashgate, 2005), 165.
110 chapter 3
figure 18 Gold ring, “bauge en or,” Cabinet des médailles, Paris, fifth–
seventh century ad
courtesy of bibliothèque nationale de france
revered task of spinning, not simply as one illustration in a narrative sequence

of events, but set apart as the dominant composition on the bezel. Gabriel
depicted without wings, is clearly reminiscent of the earliest Annunciation
scenes.17 There is space on the rounded bezel for the addition of wings as
schematic outlines, yet they are conspicuously absent.
Attempting to date these objects is infamously complicated. In the exhibi-
tion catalogue, Byzantium, published in conjunction with the Royal Academy
of Arts exhibition of the same name, Aimilia Yeroulanou dates the Benaki ring
by referencing the supposed date of the Palermo ring, to the sixth or seventh
century.18 Gary Vikan has used numismatic comparisons in order to categorize
these rings and others like them, and also assigns them to the sixth and sev-
enth centuries. Vikan uses images of bridal couples shown crowned by Christ
or Christ and the Virgin in order to demonstrate the Christianizing transition
from the couple blessed and guided by Christ pronubus rather than Concor-
17 The Abegg-Stiftung textile from the fourth- or early fifth-century discussed later in this
book also features Gabriel without wings. Henry Maguire has identified the absence
of wings as indicative of the earliest Annunciation images, consistent with the Abegg-
Stiftung textile date. Henry Maguire, “Byzantine Domestic Art,” in Images of the Mother of
God, Maria Vassilaki, ed. (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005), 185.
18 David Buckton, Byzantium: Treasure of Byzantine Art and Culture from British Collections
(London: British Museum Press, 1994), 415–416. Cf. Robin Cormack and Maria Vassilaki,
eds., Byzantium: 330–1453 (London: Royal Academy of Arts, 2008), 415–416.
the matron 111
dia pronubus.19 Gary Vikan prefers to date the octagonal locus sanctus rings
(including those that include the Annunciation in the sequence of holy wit-
ness events) to the seventh century. He argues that the Palermo ring, “which
by its weight alone (23.1 grams) presupposed an important owner, was reliably
reported to have been found near Syracuse, where Constans ii resided with
his court from 663 until his assassination five years later.”20 Other scholars, like
David Buckton of the British Museum, are more hesitant to assign the Palermo
ring so directly to the period of Constans ii based on stylistic elements.21
Dating domestic objects, like marriage rings, is unequivocally difficult and it
is not outside the realm of possibility that scholars have simply assigned later
dates, not because of stylistic reasons, but because they are safe. This argu-
ment does not attempt to assign a definitive date for these rings, but instead
calls attention to the fact that marriage rings from the fourth or fifth century
are conspicuously missing, and that there is no reason, based on the style or
iconography of these rings, to date them only to the sixth or seventh century.
Instead of the iconography lending credence to later dating hypotheses, the sin-
gular use of the schematic spinning Annunciate motif on the bezel of two very
19 Vikan consistently dates this style to the sixth and seventh centuries based on specific
numismatic examples that show a variance in style from profile figures dating to before
the sixth century and then frontal figure types that appear from the sixth century (Vikan,
“Art and Marriage,” 149). He is selective in choosing his comparisons and restricts his data
to the obverse side of the coin, for surely he is aware of mythological or allegorical figures
and scenes on coins of the fifth century showing frontal presentations of Concordia, seated
in a similar fashion to the Virgin, and winged Victory inscribed with salus republicae.
Both reverse sides appear on coins of Theodosius ii’s Eudocia and Arcadius’ Eudoxia—
both Christian Empresses during the first half of the fifth century. Further, although he
uses the marriage solidus of Marcian and Pulcheria from the mid-fifth century to show
the Christianized formula of the marriage blessing, Vikan neglects to mention that they
are also precedents for frontally proscribed figures. This author believes Vikan’s dating
is derived from his motivation to use pilgrimage objects like the sixth century eulogia
oil flasks at Monza and Bobbio as the iconographic source for marriage jewellery. See
Vikan, “Art and Marriage,” 160. Further, as has been demonstrated elsewhere in this study,
this dating conundrum should not automatically exclude the fifth century as a viable
terminus post quem for dating these objects and has provided ample evidence suggesting
that Annunciation iconography was conceptually familiar and visually accessible in the
centuries leading up to the fifth century.
20 See Ernst Kitzinger, “Reflections on the Feast Cycle in Byzantine Art,” Cahiers Arch. 36
(1988): 62, and note 72. Vikan, “Art and Marriage,” note 105: “Of all Byzantine marriage rings
this one, by virtue of the headgear of its bride and groom, its Syracuse findspot, and its
substantial weight, has the strongest claim to courtly (if not actual imperial) patronage.”
21 Buckton, Byzantium, 98–99.
112 chapter 3
similar rings in Athens, and Paris (fig. 18) is more in line with an open hypothe-
sis of earlier dating. This suggestion easily aligns with well-known, earlier visual
precedents and the cultural contexts of the fourth and fifth centuries. Using this
iconography to support a terminus post quem in the 660s is neither convincing
nor defendable when considering the spinning Annunciate and its centuries-
old precedents. It is safest to say that the general corpus of early Christian mar-
riage rings are pre-Iconoclastic in date and “in terms of their cultural context
(are) … considered a phenomenon of the mid-fourth to early eighth century.”22
The iconographical approach to art history has too long ignored the integral
elements of pre-Christian precedents, the lay devotion to the Virgin, marriage
practices, and family dynamics during the fifth century. It assumes that art and
artifacts pertaining to traditional married life or items demonstrating Marian
iconography can be safely assigned only to later centuries. The spinning motif
was not a subtle subterfuge of Christian symbolism that could be recognized
only by the initiated few. From the fifth century onwards, this motif, assigned
to the Annunciation as early as the second century, was used as an overt
sign of Christian alliance with, and even adaptation of, the highest of ancient
female virtues. Furthermore, the combination of spindle, distaff, and wool had
long been associated with marriage, the productive household, and procreative
links to prosperity and family life. I suggest that the few exceptions to the later
dating scheme in fact prove the rule that, amongst the Christian households
of late antiquity, especially those able to afford such objects, Annunciation
imagery held a distinct appeal within the realm of the household and was
growing in popularity long before it was codified in official art.
The spinning Annunciate on marriage rings indicates a pattern of connect-
ing the highest and most honourable motifs from pre-Christian iconography
with new Christian adaptations of the same motif. There is no definitive break
in the symbolic meaning of the spindle as a signifier for virtuous matrons
amongst pagan and Christian women. Likewise, social and legal implications
of family life during the fifth century have very little evidence to distinguish
between pagan and Christian lifestyles. Women’s perceptions of marriage and
their legal rights within marriage were connected to their social status and,
though essentialist by our modern sensibilities, to their success at bearing
children. It is at this juncture that we turn to the documentation of post-
Constantinian law concerning marriage and family life in order to authenticate
the reality of these facts, and place the Annunciation marriage ring type within
a clear fifth-century context.
22 Walker, “Myth and Marriage,” 61.

the matron 113
3 The Fifth-Century Legal Context and Family Life
There is little documentary evidence relating specifically to the legal aspects

of family life in the fourth and fifth centuries.23 Those that do remain, and
mention women, are mostly concerned with articles of dowry and inheritance
of property. There are also a few documents that address the status women
acquired by their age, marital status, property, and/or number of children.
Our major sources for establishing the legal context of the family are the
classical Roman law codes, which were largely perpetuated forward into late
antique law codes. Judith Evans Grubbs, a leading scholar on late antique law
and the family, has made a convincing case for legal continuities between
Imperial Rome and the post-Constantinian period. She maintains that Con-
stantine was not trying to introduce a new morality, rather, he was giving offi-
cial recognition to (and hence subjecting to legal regulation) a very ancient
moral code which had persisted in many areas of the Mediterranean.24 This
code would be upheld and preserved largely intact in the fifth-century Theo-
dosian Code and Justinian’s Corpus Juris Civilis, and would continue in theory
and practice in the Byzantine Empire for more than a millennium.
Fifth-century legal continuity can be reinforced if we consider that only two
cases validate arguments for Christian influence: “the law of 331 penalizing
unilateral divorce and the law of 320 which abolished the Augustan penal-
ties on the unmarried and childless.”25 This legislation does not indicate state
sanctioned changes to family structure or the legal privileging of ecclesiasti-
cal preferences for the virginal and celibate. There is no reason to believe that
Christian marriage introduced changes in ritual, tradition, or ideology from
marriage conducted according to Roman custom.26 In fact, much of Constan-
tine’s legislative output did not concern specifically Christian matters at all.27
23 Arjava, Women and Law, 130.

26 Evans Grubbs, Law, 318. “In many of Constantine’s laws on marriage and the family the
question of Christian influence simply does not arise, for we have no explicitly ‘Christian’
doctrine to contrast with ‘pagan’ on the law’s subject. It is anachronistic to speak of
‘Christian marriage’ at this period, as if there were a Christian morality and ideology on
marriage completely distinct from the contemporary non-Christian world.”
27 Evans Grubbs, Law, 2. We find that a large portion of his specific legislation focuses
on generic economic and social issues concerning the family and sexual relationships,
constituting a full twenty percent of the 394 total extracts that can be securely assigned
to the Emperor.
114 chapter 3
Concerning property, papyri from Byzantine Egypt and Italy show women
selling their own property, and in some cases the property of their husbands.
Some sales were as donations to the Church, as noted in the letters of Gregory
the Great, but many others were for their own benefit. These transactions were
made with and without evidence of official consent from their husbands.28
Property owned by women was usually limited to the dowry from their father’s
house and, in some elite cases, real estate. The third-century Roman jurist
Ulpian acknowledged the sovereign rights of property that wives brought with
them to marriage. Ulpian does not specify what kind of belongings came into
question, but “personal utensils [for grooming and cloth production], clothes,
jewellery, and perhaps slaves, are the most obvious conjectures.”29
If married life proceeded without divorce or untimely death, property of the
household was not arbitrated according to separate ownership.30 Objects like
gold marriage rings would most often be preserved within the nuclear family
structure and passed from mother to daughter or daughter-in-law. Disputes
over ownership did occur and were cause for official concern and attention.
Situations resulting from death and divorce were legislated in such a way as to
prevent the breakdown of household properties in general, although there were
instances where independent virgins and widows might be seen to imperil the
continuity of familial fortunes by donating large sums to the Church, bishops,
or monks.31 The practice of ecclesiastical donation was considered suspicious
and unusual activity by family groups, and was not praised in the community
at large.
Of course, women’s status was also a determining factor in other legal affairs.
Women’s social rank and legal domicile followed that of their husbands’ and
greatly affected their ability to take legal action. Elite noblewomen, or claris-
simae feminae, enjoyed privileges above freedwomen or slaves for example. To
marry above one’s social station brought privileges, just as marrying below one’s
28 Arjava, Women and Law, 147–149. “All the documentary evidence which we have from the
end of antiquity, from Gaul, Italy, North Africa, and Egypt points to a similar conclusion:
a wife needed her husband’s consent for major transactions. Unmarried adult women, on
the other hand, could dispose of their property without male supervision.” Ibid., 152.
30 Arjava, Women and Law, 140. Most couples were probably “rather reluctant to live up to
the principle of separate properties, which was (and still is) so prominent in theoretical
treatises on Roman law.”
31 Arjava, Women and Law, 159. Most cases addressed widows as they had property at their
disposal. This assumption of course does not consider the very few elite virgins like
Pulcheria.
the matron 115
station or having one’s husband public reputation tarnished also caused a wife’s
rank to suffer. In this way, wives and mothers became vested partners in the
guise of successful marriage that adhered to accepted social values, even if the
actual marriage was not ideal. It is significant, then, that legal documentation
relating to wives and mothers, regardless of religious affiliation, is consistent
with social exemplarity. Christian women were empowered by their status as
pious householders, which maintained their social status and could therefore
help legitimize their beliefs.
Motifs of wool, spindle, distaff, and wool basket were accepted within the
ritual culture of late antique marriage. They were employed as important sig-
nifiers of status among married and marriageable women inasmuch as virtue,
strength, and modesty were valued in Christian communities. There is no
extant evidence to document pre-Iconoclastic marriage liturgy, and most mar-
riage ceremonies were private family events, held with the sphere of the house-
hold, whether a priest blessed the union or not.32 The spinning Annunciate
image on early marriage rings, regardless of whether the ring was part of the
marriage ceremony or given to the bride later,33 clearly alludes to the fact that
fidelity, fertility, modesty, economy, and even divine protection were still inte-
gral to the union within the early Christian context.
The Annunciation ring, from the British Museum, depicting the prominent
rove of wool pulled from the basket by Mary, emphasizes a preoccupation with
the domestic chore amongst married women. The inscriptions on both the
London and the Paris Annunciation rings lead us to believe that women owned
these rings and, from their signs of use, regularly wore them. Mary performing
her task of spinning was a constant part of their visual world. It elevated their
own stature, even if only in their own minds, not only as examples of good
housewifery, but as paragons of virtue in their household, their community,
and in the eyes of God.
Not only is Annunciation iconography featured on marriage rings, it is prom-
inently shown on objects that were used and worn by individuals to elicit
favour, health, and help on their behalf. Naturally, the use of amulets, fertil-
ity armbands, and even Christian pilgrim tokens was largely outside formal
liturgy and practice. These objects connoted magical influences and, therefore,
32 John Meyendorff, “Christian Marriage in Byzantium,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 44 (1990):

105.
33 Walker, “Myth and Marriage,” 59–78. We do know that Church Fathers like Clement of
Alexandria allowed the wearing of gold marriage rings by women, especially if they could
also function as a signet seal for keeping the goods of the household, even though he
harshly warned about other adornment.
116 chapter 3
the Church scrutinized the rituals and traditions that surrounded them. Laws
established to curb the use of magical amulets and apotropaic objects, espe-
cially as they related to sexuality, seem to have received particular censure.
4 The Paraphernalia of Married Fertility and Early Church Councils
Held on the eve of Constantine’s conversion, the Council of Elvira in c. 305–306

aimed at regulating marriage, sexuality, and clerical celibacy. The canons reveal
a society whose governing class was largely Christianized and concerned with
dictating rules of marital behaviour within private Christian life.34 Later, the
Council of Laodicea (ad365) would continue ecclesiastical censure of female
behaviour and condemn the infiltration of pagan ritual into the church. Canons
28, 30, 32 and 36 specifically relate to objects and rituals that had evidently been
a problem amongst laypeople and clerics alike. For example, canon 28 prohibits
the practice of holding agapai or love feasts where dining couches were used to
recline and eat in a ritual that combined elements of the Eucharist and the last
supper.35 Perhaps the practice had become boisterous or too closely mimicked
pagan funerary feasts; moreover, priests themselves were known to have taken
away portions of food from the feasts, an act seen as reproachful and an abuse
of power.
Canons 32 and 36 specifically addressed the use of objects outside the pre-
scribed authority of the Church in conjunction with the practice of household
magic and soothsaying. Canon 32 stated that it was unlawful for Christians to
receive ritual objects belonging to the pagan or heretical tradition, and in a pun-
ning manner refutes them as alogiai or follies, to distinguish them from authen-
34 Evans Grubbs, Women, 15.

35 The Catholic Encyclopedia, “Agape,” http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/01200b.htm
(June 8, 2009)
“From the fourth century onward, the agape rapidly lost its original character. The
political liberty granted to the Church made it possible for the meetings to grow larger,
and involved a departure from primitive simplicity. The funeral banquet continued to be
practised [sic], but gave rise to flagrant and intolerable abuses. St. Paulinus of Nola, usually
mild and kindly, is forced to admit that the crowd, gathered to honour the feast of a certain
martyr, took possession of the basilica and atrium, and there ate the food which had been
given out in large quantities. The Council of Laodicea (365) forbade the clergy and laity
who should be present at an agape to make it a means of supply, or to take food away from
it, at the same time that it forbade the setting up of tables in the churches. In the fifth
century the agape feast becomes a less frequent occurrence, and between the sixth and
the eighth it disappears altogether from the churches.”
the matron 117
tic eulogia or blessed objects. Canon 36 denounced clergy who act as magicians,
enchanters, mathematicians, and astrologers, and forbids them from making
protective amulets. Wearers of such amulets are also to be cast out of the
church. Banning these practices was supposed to protect against the deception
of the naïve, and discourage newly converted Christians from retaining their
pagan traditions. Yet amulets continued to be used and produced as objects
associated with marriage and fertility.
Two silver armbands or bracelets that date to the sixth century, or perhaps
earlier, were worn for their magical, amuletic, even direct medical properties,
and would easily qualify as cautionary objects according to Church law. The
armbands, both found in Egypt, likely originated also in Egypt or elsewhere
in the east Mediterranean, perhaps in Syria/Palestine. They combine the most
powerful amuletic signs known in late antiquity: namely the pentalpha, the
Holy Rider, and the image of Chnoubis. One of the armbands conflates these
images with the verse from Psalm 90:16–17 calling upon the Highest for help.36
Displayed in equally prominent roundels around the armbands are the key wit-
ness scenes from the life of Christ: the Annunciation, the Nativity, Christ’s Bap-
tism, the Crucifixion, and the Women at the Tomb. Vikan’s catalogue of Chris-
tological scenes on these armbands indicates that the Annunciation appears
second in frequency only to the Women at the Tomb, an image that, perhaps,
reflected the reliquary importance of the Holy Sepulchre.37 These are scenes
rightly fitted to the specific witness of women within the realms of life and
death.
While Vikan’s catalog is clear in its explanation of the magical symbols,
it does not discuss the full iconographic program, nor does it refer to these
scenes beyond their representation of the holy sites of pilgrimage. These Chris-
tological images, by virtue of their powerful archetypes,38 possessed the same
sanctifying power as pilgrimage relics. Yet the full weight of the iconographic
36 Vikan, “Art, Medicine, and Magic,” 69, 74–76. The pentalpha was the sign on the Solomonic
seal, a symbol given to King Solomon by God to seal or control the power of demons and
evil. Cf. C.C. McCown, The Testament of Solomon (Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1922), 10. The Chnoubis
or lion-headed snake with rays was associated with ailments or disorders of the abdomen,
even distress of the womb and was a known “master of the womb” amulet. Cf. Campbell
Bonner, Studies in Magical Amulets (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1950), 54.
37 Gary Vikan, “Two Byzantine Amuletic Armbands and the Group to which They Belong,”
The Journal of the Walters Art Gallery 49/50 (1991/1992): 37. Cf. Gary Vikan, “Early Byzantine
Pilgrimage Devotionalia as Evidence of the Appearance of Pilgrimage Shrines,” in Sacred
Images and Sacred Power in Byzantium (Burlington: Ashgate, 2003).
38 Vikan, “Early Byzantine Pilgrimage,” 37. Cf. André Grabar, “Sacred Image, Sacred Power,”
in Icon, ed. Gary Vikan (Washington, d.c.: The Walters Art Gallery, 1988), 15–18.
118 chapter 3
archetype, in the case of the Annunciation, is not explored. The Annuncia-

tion, followed by the Nativity, is a profoundly appropriate image for an amulet
meant to heal and to protect the wearer, and ensure good health in the womb.39
The image precedents associated with wool and spindle were imbued with life-
giving, life-sustaining, and life-renewing power. That sense was transferred to
late antique jewellery and medallions that may have functioned, not only as
adornments, but as apotropaic objects in their own right. The Virgin Annunci-
ate with her spindle, wool, and wool basket is a powerful and perhaps apotro-
paic image, directly signifying fertility, pregnancy, and successful birth.
Two copper medallions, today at the Benaki Museum, date to the third or
fourth century and are evidence to this point. Repoussé busts of female fig-
ures are at the center of both compositions with variations on vine scroll-
work and pearled concentric circles decorating the borders. Both female figures
wear conspicuous pendant medallions around their necks, perhaps to demon-
strate the proper function of protective medallions like these. One medallion is
inscribed with the words “Grace and Health” around the figure, while another
is inscribed with “Lady and Grace”. The elicitation of health was not uncom-
mon for medallions, amulets, and badges and the invocation of Grace was part
of apotropaic practice and supplication.40 The surviving oeuvre for this type of
object in late antiquity is not exceptional in number. According to the Index of
Christian Art, there are between forty to fifty pendants and medallions that are
relevant for this time period. The fact that we can discuss five medallions with
specific Annunciation iconography, at least ten percent of the entire body of
extant medallions, and that this type of object was associated with apotropaic
power, is significant. Other scenes depicted on these objects with Christian
iconography include multiple crosses, the Virgin and Child, the Visitation and
Adoration, various saints including St. Thecla, as well as birds and fish. There
are also some inscriptions that invoke the help of God.
Gold and gold-plated pendants or medallions that feature the Annuncia-
tion, now mostly in private collections, date from as early as the fifth century
to as late as the seventh. The Assuit medallion (fig. 19) is likely associated
with marriage based on biblical formulae for Byzantine marriage ceremonies,
specifically the Marriage at Cana featured on the reverse, associating the bene-
39 Vikan, “Art, Medicine, Magic,” 77. Vikan cites these armbands as precursors to the larger
group of rings and uterine pendant amulets inscribed with the word Hystera, a direct
association with the womb. One armband, in the Spier collection, is even inscribed with
the name “Anna,” thus connecting it directly with a female wearer.
40 D. Flusser, “Qumran and Jewish ‘Apotropaic’ Prayers,”Israel Exploration Journal vol. 16 no. 3
(1966): 194–205.
the matron 119
figure 19 Gold pendant, Assuit Collection, Altes Museum, Berlin, fifth–seventh century ad
courtesy of skulpturensammlung und museum für byzantinische
kunst, staatliche museen zu berlin. photography by antje voigt
diction of marriage with childbearing.41 It is also important to read the Assiut

gold pectoral necklace as a certain signifier of wealth and desire for divine aid
directly for a woman. Today, the pendant is in the Berlin State Museums, though
it was found in Egypt and possibly made in Constantinople. The large pendant
is attached to a cluster of gold coins surrounding a medallion bust portrait of
the emperor, which, by merit of its material value, renders it an expensive and
precious piece of jewellery. The emperor medallion is inscribed in Greek, “Lord,
help the wearer,” with the gender of “wearer” indicating a female user.42
41 Brigitte Pitarakis, “Female Piety in Context,” in Maria Vassilaki, ed., Images of the Mother
of God (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005), 158. See also Kurt Weitzmann, ed., Age of Spirituality
(New York, 1979), no. 296, 319–321.
42 Connor, Women, 100.
120 chapter 3
The Annunciation scene at the centre of the medallion is consistent with the
apocryphal iconography, including Mary seated on a high-backed chair, her feet
resting on a footstool, drawing a rove from the wool basket at her feet. Gabriel
is quite diminutive in size compared to the seated Virgin, although the scale of
the figures has more to do with his placement on the right side of the roundel
than with any symbolic meaning. The Miracle at Cana is depicted on the reverse
and is inscribed, “first of the signs.” Carolyn Connor has suggested that although
most commissions for such objects are anonymous, there is no denying that
themes of divine motherhood and special protection for women were integral
to jewellery like this piece.43
Here the inscription, “Lord help the wearer,” in the feminine gender, along
with the iconography of the Wedding at Cana, implied that the wearer was to
be successful in the aims of marriage and procreation, in a way that was closely
akin to the invocations of health on fertility amulets. There is no way to know
if this pendant was gifted or worn specifically for a marriage ceremony, but it
seems to be clearly related to the context of married life. Even though the use of
amulets and apotropaic objects were discouraged in the fourth century under
canon law, such as Laodicea 36, this sanction was largely ignored. Indeed, in
the case of our marriage rings and fertility armbands, the amuletic function
was legitimized and hidden under the guise of Marian iconography.
Another small, gold-plated silver roundel, from southern Italy, is today in
the private collection of Dr. Leopold Seligmann. It depicts Mary seated upon
a cushioned, spindle-legged seat with Gabriel, staff in hand, advancing toward
her from the left. Both figures are nimbed and the schematic quality of their
bodies is accentuated by the tubular effect of their drapery. Mary is simply
dressed without any jewellery or extra adornment and draws a large winding
rove from a wool basket on her right. It is unclear if this medallion was meant to
be worn as a pendant because there are no extant suspension rings. However,
the size and style are closely akin to other medallions used specifically as
jewellery or adornment.
Some small medallions were fashioned specifically as necklace pendants. A
gold pendant dated to the fifth or sixth century, measuring 7.5 cm in diameter,
was made from two attached gold leaves with the decorative scenes executed
in repoussé (fig. 20).44

44 Cradle of Christianity, Yael Israeli and David Mevorah, eds. (Jerusalem: The Israel Museum,
2000), 149.
the matron 121
figure 20 Annunciation pendant, Israel Antiquities Authority, Jerusalem, fifth or sixth century
ad
courtesy of israel antiquities authority. photography by meidad
suchowolski
One side shows the spinning Annunciate along with text from Luke 1:28,
“Hail, thou who art highly favoured.” On the opposite leaf is a fragmentary
image of Baptism of Christ, featuring John the Baptist and a dove representing
the Holy Ghost. There is nothing overtly specific to indicate a female wearer,
122 chapter 3
however jewellery of this sort was typical of female accoutrements and the
invocation of favour may not have been solely for narrative purposes.
There are also later pendants like the gold pendant from Adana, Turkey, now
in the Archaeological Museum in Constantinople, or the beautiful openwork
marriage pendant, from the Christian Schmidt collection, that feature Christ
joining a bride and groom in iunctio dextrum on the obverse and the Annunci-
ation, Visitation, and Nativity on the reverse. The relative number of medallions
depicting this iconography demonstrates the popularity of this subject matter
on jewellery worn by women. Parturition was a real concern for late antique
Christian women who might use any means possible, even invoking the mirac-
ulous conception by Mary at the Annunciation, to be successful in becoming
mothers themselves. These later pendants date to the sixth or seventh century
and are elaborations on earlier prototypes. They follow the same iconographic
pattern as many of the marriage rings discussed earlier, displaying multiple
events from the early life of Christ. The Annunciation is set first in the nar-
rative series or is placed prominently in the centre of the medallions as shown
respectively in these examples.
Three of the five medallions discussed here display the Virgin Annunciate
spinning as the sole iconographic image, and the other two include it along
with scenes of the Visitation, the Nativity, the Flight into Egypt, and the Adora-
tion of the Magi. Each of the five feature wool-working paraphernalia as part of
the scene, with only some variation in the position of the figures and the chair
provided for the Virgin. Annunciation imagery as a popular motif increased
the probability that these objects were privately owned and worn by women
and emphasizes the early fascination of late ancient Christians with this salient
iconography.
Though questions remain as to how deeply ingrained the magical or pro-
tective qualities of these objects were amongst individual laywomen, there
must have been enough behaviour that seemed outside the norms of orthodox
church practice to warrant some censure. Despite the ecclesiastical sanctions
of the fourth and fifth centuries, para-liturgical rite and ritual continued to
be incorporated in the domestic practices of Christian women. The seventh-
century Council in Trullo, convening in Constantinople in 692, established new
canons to again address proper and improper behaviour amongst the lay pop-
ulation and clerics from all five sees. In an effort to break with latent Roman
custom and influence, the council decreed 102 canons in order to legitimize
distinctly Byzantine ecclesiastical law and strengthen ecclesiastical influence
over the social traditions of the late seventh century.45
45 Frank R. Trombley, “The Council in Trullo (691–692): A Study of the Canons Relating to
the matron 123
Canons condemned the ritual celebration of the Brumalia and Bota in hon-
our of Dionysus, Pan, and the wine harvest. Fraternizing with booksellers and
merchants who tampered with holy books, wearing masks or clothing that
incited pagan riotousness, dancing in honour of the pagan gods, and again
taking part in agape feasts, along with many other pagan and heretical prac-
tices were condemned.46 Several of the new canons are gender-specific and
deal with legislation directed toward female believers. For example, canon 70
compels women to be silent during the divine service.47 While earlier Chris-
tian women could preach, expound scripture, teach, and even participate in the
lay parts of liturgical ceremony,48 seventh-century women were now restricted
simply as hearers and spectators in their public expressions of devotion.49
For our purposes, it is canon 79 that is most revealing, in that it relates to
the domestic perception of the Virgin by seventh-century women through a
tradition as old as Greek and Roman antiquity. Semidalis, a sweet cereal or fine
flour mixture, often baked into a cake, was prepared and eaten in honour of the
Virgin on the day after the feast of Christ’s birth. The canon pronounces:
As we confess the divine birth of the Virgin to be without any childbed,

since it came to pass without seed, and as we preach this to the entire
flock, so we subject to correction those who through ignorance do any-
thing which is inconsistent therewith. Wherefore since some on the day
after the holy Nativity of Christ our God are seen cooking σεμίδαλῖν, and
distributing it to each other, on pretext of doing honour to the puerpe-
ria of the spotless Virgin Maternity, we decree that henceforth nothing
of the kind be done by the faithful. For this is not honouring the Vir-
gin (who above thought and speech bare in the flesh the incomprehensi-
Paganism, Heresy, and the Invasions,” Comitatus: A Journal of Medieval and Renaissance
Studies 9, 1 (1978): 3.
46 Frank Trombley, “Council,” Article 1. http://repositories.cdlib.org/cmrs/comitatus/vol9/
iss1/art1 (accessed September 2010). Many of these practices had been condemned in
earlier councils like Laodicea, but seem to have persisted over the next 300+ years despite
ecclesiastical censure.
47 Charles J. Hefele, A History of the Councils of the Church, vol. 5 (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark,
1894; rpt. New York: ams Press, 1972), 233. Cf. npnf2 14:396.
48 Elizabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, “Word, Spirit and Power: Women in Early Christian Com-
munities,” in Women of Spirit: Female Leadership in the Jewish and Christian Traditions,
R. Ruether and E. McLaughlin, eds. (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1979), 29–70.
49 Judith Herrin, “Femina Byzantina: The Council in Trullo on Women,” Dumbarton Oaks
Papers 50 (1996): 100.
124 chapter 3
ble Word) when we define and describe, from ordinary things and from
such as occur with ourselves, her ineffable parturition. If therefore anyone
henceforth be discovered doing any such thing, if he be a cleric let him be
deposed, but if a layman let him be cut off.50
The development of the semidalis tradition within the church, most proba-
bly by women, originated from the custom of congratulating a mother after
the successful delivery of a child. Although the custom appears quite harm-
less from our modern viewpoint, the bishops of 692 denounced the practice,
declaring that, since Christ was born miraculously of the Virgin, she was not
considered subject to the ordinary labours and recovery of childbirth.51 The
semidalis tradition is excellent evidence for the celebration and imitation of
Mary’s maternity and its related devotion set apart from formalized church
venues. Canon 79 reveals more than a simple-minded practice and desire to win
the favour of the Virgin Mother. In fact, it shows that women associated Mary’s
maternal experiences with their own. Because the pagan tradition evoked and
honoured maternity in a contextually authentic manner, Mary’s mortality and
maternal role was likewise celebrated despite, and to the worry of, official
Church council censure. Further, the semidalis tradition was more than a car-
ryover from ancient tradition. Practices associated with successful parturition
were valued, especially considering the high mortality rates among both infants
and childbearing women in late antiquity.
5 Children, “An Inheritance of the Lord”
Bearing children in fifth-century Byzantium was a precarious and difficult act

that nearly every woman experienced. Birth rates were high, with a mother
expecting a child to arrive every year or every other year. Mortality rates were
also considerable. Uncertainty must have been inherent in pregnancy, delivery,
and in the postpartum health of the mother and child. It is not difficult, given
the dangerous and even perilous aspects of childbirth, to imagine women’s
desire for divine intervention, mediated by Mary and her motherly empathy,
even if it meant invoking her blessing through an armband, medallion, ring, or
amulet despite ecclesiastical injunction.
50 npnf2 14:399. Revised and edited for New Advent by Kevin Knight. http://www.newadvent
.org/fathers/3814.htm (accessed October 15, 2009).
51 Herrin, “Femina,” 105.
the matron 125
As described in Chapter One, wool was an integral part of the early life
of children, both symbolically and materially. Soranus of Ephesus mentions
wool as one of the basic tools of the midwife and describes its uses. In order
to soothe the pains of labour, he suggests drenching pieces of cloth in warm,
sweet olive oil and placing them over the abdomen. Wool fillets were used
shortly after the birth of a child to tie off the umbilical cord and cleanse the
child of afterbirth and mucus. Midwives were instructed to place a piece of
wool soaked in olive oil over the newly severed umbilicus and to proceed with
cleansing the infant. Following the infant’s first bath, Soranus describes the
elaborate method of swaddling a newborn and calls specifically for the use of
wool bandages.
The midwife should put the newborn down gently on her lap which has
been covered entirely with wool or a piece of cloth so that the infant may
not cool down when laid bare while every part is swaddled. Then she must
take soft woollen bandages which are clean and not too worn out, some
of them three fingers in breadth, others four fingers. “Woollen,” because
of the smoothness of the material and because linen ones shrink from the
sweat; “soft,” so as not to cause bruises when covering the body which is
still delicate; “clean,” so that they may be light and not heavy, nor of evil
smell, nor irritate the surface by containing natron; and “not too worn
out”: for whereas new ones are heavy, worn out ones are too cold, and
sometimes rough as well and very easily torn. They must have neither
hems nor selvages, otherwise they cut or compress unevenly: some parts
more, others less.52
These practical steps in sustaining the new life of an infant are condemned as
foolish behaviour, as midwifery, and even the use of wool fillets were associated
with superstitions by early Church fathers.
Tertullian directly attacks these practices by condemning the supposed be-
neficent nature of the Roman Lares or household deities supplicated for pro-
tection during childbirth. In his De Anima, Tertullian comments on the idolatry
of midwives and the practice of laboring women using woollen fillets that had
been previously blessed by the household gods: “Thus it comes to pass that
all men are brough to the birth with idolatry for the midwife, whilst the very
wombs that bear them, still bound with the fillets that have been wreathed
52 Soranus of Ephesus, Gynecology ii.14, trans. Owsei Temkin (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins
University Press, 1991), 84–85.
126 chapter 3
before the idols, declare their offspring to be consecrated to demons.”53 Tertul-

lian promoted rhetoric that would lead to the expulsion of domestic deities and
ancestral devotion from pagan homes54 and perhaps some Christian homes
where tradition and superstition had gained a stronghold when it came to mat-
ters as precarious as childbirth.
Although having children was as difficult as it ever had been, children were
anything but mere anonymous burdens. Artistic representations of children
in Byzantium demonstrate that they were both relevant and engaging, loved
and admired no less by the lower classes than by elite households.55 For the
Roman mind, while love between husband and wife was a virtue to be earned
within marriage, love for one’s children was natural, expected, and a mark of
civilization. Boys and girls, though clearly distinguished by their gender roles,
were both valued within the nuclear family structure. Imperial era literary
sources show that, “Romans loved their daughters’ children, counting them as
their true descendants, and took no less pride in their maternal ascendants
than in the paternal ones.”56
Childbearing within marriage was not just an expected duty imposed by a
patriarchal society; it had a significant impact upon the legal status of women,
and allowed them to act independently of male guardianship. The ius trium
liberorum, instituted first by Augustus, exempted aristocratic couples with
three children and freeborn citizens with four children from certain taxes and
civic responsibilities. It also privileged eligible mothers with independence
from guardianship. Later, in the fourth century, Constantine removed the legal
penalties for the unmarried and childless instituted by Augustus, yet he pre-
served benefits for familial fertility and kept in place the ius liberorum, which
married couples needed in order to be able to inherit from each other, and
which also enhanced a mother’s rights to inherit.57 Women in legal transac-
tions are noted as “acting without guardian,” even in cases where it would not
have been necessary, a clear indication that women used their ius liberorum to
define their status and iterate their reputation.58
53 Tertullian, De Anima 39; anf 3:219.

54 Dennis Paul Quinn, “Roman Household Deities in the Latin Christian Writers: Tertullian,
Arnobius, and Lactantius,” Studia Patristica xliv (Leuven: Peeters, 2010), 73.
55 Cecily Hennessy, Images of Children in Byzantium (Burlington: Ashgate, 2008), 217.
57 Arjava, Women and Law, 79. Justinian continued to recognize the same exemptions: See
The Digest of Justinian 50.6.6.2 as well as the earlier Codex Theodosianus 12.i.55.
58 Arjava, Women and Law, 79–81.
the matron 127
Legal arguments concerning mothers and children focused mainly on rights

of inheritance and do not acknowledge relational fidelity or affection between
parents and children. In matters of property, women, even mothers with many
children, were certainly at a disadvantage.59 However, the legal record also
shows that husbands, in ways that subverted property laws without chang-
ing them, took mothers and wives into consideration. Antti Arjava presents
a convincing case in favour of Roman benevolence towards women despite
the lawful predilection for maintaining patria potestas. Even though mother’s
rights to inherit were tenuous, fathers often used personal testaments and other
legal manipulations to insure property to their widows and to their children’s
estate.60
From 390 at the latest, and certainly in the fifth century, mothers could
assume guardianship of their own children.61 Because many freeborn women
did bear more than four children, even if those children did not live beyond
infancy, the ius liberorum firmly granted wives and mothers, even outside the
aristocratic elite, a new kind of power and influence in family life. It is naively
modern to assume, as far as ordinary married women were concerned, that they
wanted to escape the bonds of motherhood and marriage.62 It is unlikely that
Christian teachings changed many aspects of women’s legal lifestyles. Women
were still advised to avoid politically public behaviour and to tend to domestic
tasks, including the proverbial working of wool (lanificium), but whether the
ideal was better realised in late antique Christian circles as opposed to pagan
ones is largely unknowable.63
What does not remain in doubt is that many women chose the motif of the
Virgin spinning, which elevated the stature of Christian matrons through its
iconographic connection to the Mother of God, to adorn objects within their
domestic world. That domestic world expanded because Christian women did
not remain cloistered during late antiquity and appeared freely in public as
good and pious matrons. Women, as wives and mothers, were not relegated
to invisibility or idleness during the fifth century, nor did they eschew bear-
ing children as anathema to a spiritual life. They have, however, been ignored
59 Arjava, Women and Law, 105. “Generally, in all hereditary systems the children of the
deceased are the first to succeed. In particular, in Roman law … only mothers with the
required fertility stood any chance of inheriting, they were also more likely to be either
totally excluded or at least to share with their daughters.”
60 Arjava, Women and Law, 109–110.
62 Goff, Citizen Bacchae, 60–61.
128 chapter 3
because most ancient sources did not comment on the almost universal adher-
ence to the Roman familial ideal within Christianity. This oversight was largely
because of its overwhelming prevalence in comparison with the much rarer,
but presumably more holy, female ascetic or martyrdom spectacle.64 Thus,
material artifacts like simple marriage rings, pendants, and fertility armbands
may provide some of the best evidence as to how a woman contemplated
her relationship with her husband, her family, her society, and even her God
through her own interpretive agency. Though these ideals were probably not
indicative of what actually happened, as age, financial situation, education,
social class, and individual personalities within marriage could easily deviate
from any ideological paradigm, the material evidence implies that aspiring to
the ideal, at least in some instances of family life, was worth the striving.
6 Conclusions
Wool-working implements like the spindle and distaff represented the ideal-
ized role of wives and mothers within the late antique context. They were
important enough to become the standard memorializing symbols of female
devotion to social and spiritual virtues. Moreover, objects like the gold mar-
riage ring from the British Museum were everyday reminders of those ideals.
Again, we turn to Ausonius and his poetic elegy to his sister, the matron Julia
Dryadia, to see the complete realization of this ideal, with the distaff acting
as an emblem of respect, reputation, household economy, honour, and pious
demeanor:
Julia Dryadia, Sister

If there is any virtue which a discreet woman could desire to possess,
Dryadia, my sister lacked it not. Nay more, she had many which the
stronger sex and the nobler heart of men would gladly have. Well trained
with her distaff’s aid to maintain her life and her good name, and trained
64 We find, as early as the second century, that mutual concord and marriage were applauded
by even philosophers like Hierocles and his teacher Musonius, who both “argued against
the claim made by some philosophers that marriage and household cares interfered
with the proper pursuit of philosophy.” Evans Grubbs, Law and Family, 59. Furthermore,
Hierocles held up the married couple as the basis for civilization, privileging those who
bore children, but also celebrating childless marriages as constituting a household. Evans
Grubbs, Law and Family, 59, 60 n. 26. This sentiment was echoed by Constantine in his
repeal of the penalties on childless couples.
the matron 129
in all good habits, she trained her household too. To her truth was dearer
than life, and her one thought was to know God and to love her brother
above all besides. Albeit she lost her husband while still young, she was
a match for any dame in the strictness of life, though shunning sourness,
and lived out six decades of cheerful life, dying in the same home and
under the same roof as did her father.65
Married couples of the fifth century, much as today, aspired to ideals which
were difficult to attain: to love each other, for example. Many surely tried, some
succeeded, others did not. There is nothing historically unique in this.66
The Annunciate spinning on marriage rings, fertility armbands, and medal-
lions was infused with as much exemplary symbolism and power for the female
Christian viewer as the pagan precedents that lauded the modest, chaste, pro-
lific matron with her spindle. Certainly, the iconographic connections between
those two worlds helped underscore and elevate the stature of married women
in an age that tended to celebrate ascetic renunciation as the preferred path of
holy behaviour.
65 Decimus Magnus Ausonius, Works, vol. 1, trans. Hugh G. Evelyn White (London: William
Heinemann; New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1919), 75.
chapter 4
The Household
Well trained with her distaff’s aid to maintain her life and her good name,
and trained in all good habits, she trained her household too.1
∵
When considering small, domestic, personally owned objects from Late Antiq-
uity, we are bound to wonder about the different lives entangled with such
beautiful things. The social status of the women who owned such objects is of
interest to this discussion. Construction of the household and domestic piety
were central to fifth-century feminine sociality,2 and studying the underlying
importance of Marian householding iconography is an integral method for
understanding its contextual meaning.3 This chapter investigates the domestic
cult of Mary as well as the sacred, profane, and mundane aspects of housework
and housekeeping. Evidence for the para-liturgical devotion of early Christian
households is made apparent in small, domestic type objects, dependent upon
the fusion of concrete realia and the cultural imagination.
Scholarship has indicated that religiosity and practical domestic devotion,
as exercised by Marian devotees, lay largely outside the intervention of offi-
cial Christendom and, notwithstanding some extraordinary cases of ascetic
practice, principally favoured traditional household constructs.4 The objects
examined here are precisely those that fall within the genre of domestic or pri-
vate purpose. By privileging the traditional aspects of the Christian household
and presenting it as an entity that preserved religiosity, charity, virtue, modesty,
1 Decimus Magnus Ausonius, Works, vol. 1, trans. by Hugh G. Evelyn White (London: William
Heinemann; New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1919), 75.
2 Mulder-Bakker and Wogan-Browne, Household, Women and Christianities, 1–10.
4 Cf. Ashbrook Harvey, Scenting Salvation; Thomas F. Mathews, The Clash of the Gods (Prince-
ton: Princeton University Press, 2003); Eunice D. Maguire and Henry Maguire, Other Icons:
Art and Power in Byzantine Secular Culture (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2006); Jas
Elsner, Imperial Rome and Christian Triumph (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998).

the household 131
and industry we find a form of imitatio Mariae that maintained a kind of

spiritual authority and social respectability by combining classical tropes of
Roman pudicitia with Christian holiness.
Christian assimilation of the spinning motif revealed the potency of that
ancient symbol in representing creativity, fertility, and industry; but it also
added the dimension of salvation for humankind, through the Incarnation, by
emphasizing a specific relationship between God-made-flesh by his mother,
Mary, and mankind. There is little or no evidence that the Christian incorpora-
tion of the spinning motif was associated with ascetic deprivation or that it nec-
essarily negated beliefs in abundance, joy, prosperity, and stability promised by
Christian salvation. Rather, Christian associations with spinning underlined a
feminine identity that aligned daily life with holy delight in a way that cele-
brated and elevated traditional female roles and afforded familial accord.
This chapter will closely examine several objects, including simple clay pil-
grim tokens, a plaque, incised gems, and textiles, each with the Virgin Annun-
ciate spinning as its primary iconographic motif. These objects vary in their
material worth, though each can provide invaluable insight into the artis-
tic preferences of those who acquired such objects. The discussion is thus
divided according to three social vantage points; imperial women, non-elite
matrons and, lastly, devout ascetic women, each section dealing with issues of
patronage, ownership, and viewership in conjunction with personal or domes-
tic objects.
Patronage, in this case, refers to the act of sponsoring, paying for, and even
aiding in the design or iconography of an art object or architectural structure.
In some cases, female sponsorship is documented, yet many of these objects
are simply domestic or for personal female use, and the fact that women
commissioned them is only implied. For the majority of smaller, personal, and
portable objects, the intended use of the object is the only clue that a woman
used it. Similarities in the modes of patronage from the elite to the humblest
of women, indicate that women were actively making decisions about objects
that they owned and used.5
Documentation regarding the lives of imperial women, women in purple
who enjoyed wealth, station, and power, is abundant. There is far less documen-
tation for ordinary women, the women in linen and wool who were Christian
wives and mothers, daughters and sisters. These are the women whose ven-
erations were not lauded by most Church fathers, nor were they noted by the
5 Asterius of Amaseia, Homily i; pg 40, 165–168. Cf. Cyril Mango, The Art of the Byzantine Empire
312–1453 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press), 1997.
132 chapter 4
chroniclers of their times. Yet, if one looks carefully and closely, there are ample
traces and signs of their unique influence in even the smallest of art objects.
Ironically, the category of late antique women that has received the most atten-
tion from patristic writers is the ascetic woman. She is the naked woman in the
desert without raiment, she was the bereft woman in sackcloth, who was made
holy by the very rejection of all things material, maternal, and familial. Cer-
tainly, there is textual evidence for ascetic women who associated themselves
with holy orders and imitated familial roles, but ultimately they left behind no
heritage, no progeny, and no artifacts.
1 Women in Purple: Privileged Patronage
The public role of imperial women as benefactors and patrons of Christian

churches permitted them to participate in the expansion and glorification of
the newly Christianized Empire.6 Being part of the ruling dynasty gave these
women powerful positions of influence with their husbands and sons, and
later, as widows. They wore the imperial purple and received the help of men.
Indeed, they are the reason the patriarchal order was preserved throughout the
Byzantine period.7 These women found power in their roles as wife and mother,
and negotiated that power within their sphere of influence rather than trying
to subvert those roles.
Empresses were frequently called upon to play significant roles in the suc-
cession of the Theodosian household during this period, especially where the
balance and legitimacy of the household was concerned.8 Rather than trying to
renounce their role as wife and mother, they took advantage of it and blurred
the distinct line between the public political scene and their private social
influence. Their influence also affected women who sought to emulate their
model of behaviour and interests in artistic patronage. Patronage underpinned
the social systems of late antiquity with its formal and informal displays, ben-
efitting the political, economic, and social status of the patron and client alike.
Imperial and elite women participated in the practice of patronage and main-
tained relationships between themselves and those entities that they sup-
6 Judith Herrin, Women in Purple: Rulers of Medieval Byzantium (Princeton, nj: Princeton
7 Herrin, Purple, 3.
8 Herrin, Purple, 23. “By the middle of the fifth century, this commitment to the dynastic
principle ensured that sisters, daughters and widows of emperors might all play a significant
part in the transition between rulers.”
the household 133
ported and funded. Art and its ability to perpetuate iconographic meaning was
redirected by the imperial house to the minting of coins and the production of
lead seals. Silk factories also continued to produce highly sought-after material
and came under the auspices of the imperial household.9 Naturally, the pri-
mary aesthetic contrast between women of different social classes lies in the
style and preciousness of the objects concerned, rather than a difference in the
types of objects or the images chosen.
Empresses had excess resources to devote to philanthropic purposes. Many
people saw the costly public artworks and structures sponsored by imperial
women and understood that these grand public contributions naturally ele-
vated their social position and highlighted their public piety. However, commis-
sions and patronage matter only up to a certain point. Viewership, on the other
hand, though rarely documented and difficult to assess, is the primary locus
of iconographic influence. A close look at the kinds of patronage favoured by
privileged imperial women illuminates the fact that women and matrons were
influential in perpetuating Marian veneration. Their public roles were devel-
oped around the example of Helena, Constantine’s mother, who had performed
the role of ultimate diplomat and Christian champion during her journey to
Jerusalem in the 330s.10
1.1 helena mater

During the fourth century, we find the Roman example of idealized feminine
sanctity in the legend of Helena (b. c. 246/50 to d. c. 327/30), mother to the
emperor Constantine. In his funeral oration for Theodosius i, Ambrose lauds
Helena and compares her to the Virgin Mary. He elaborates on Mary as the liber-
ated Eve, and comparatively notes that Helena redeemed the emperors by her
actions in claiming Christian foundations in the Holy Land.11 Helena intention-
ally was sent to Jerusalem with the principal goal of maintaining military peace,
but she is most well known for her Christian foundations along the pilgrim-
age roads to and from the city. Although Helena became a legend in her own
right, the reality of her life was likely less than ideal.12 The example of Helena
9 Herrin, Purple, 48–49.

11 Liz James, Empresses and Power in Early Byzantium (London; New York: Leicester Univer-
sity Press, 2001), 14, 41–48.
12 Leslie Brubaker, “Memories of Helena,” in Women, Men and Eunuchs: Gender in Byzantium,
ed. Liz James (London and New York: Routledge, 1997), 56. Helena’s participation in the
discovery of the true cross is first noted only in 395, though her commissions in the Holy
Land seem to be of her singular initiative.
134 chapter 4
as Augusta, mother, patron, and pilgrim continued to be perpetuated by elite

women in the cause of Christianity down through the sixth century.13 From the
time of her death at around 330, she was hailed as helena mater domini
nostri constantini and was specifically associated with her matrilineal
connections, linking generations of imperial women who would come after
her.14
Of the seven imperial women noted here—Helena, Flavia Flacilla, Galla
Placidia, Eudoxia, Pulcheria, Athenais Eudocia, and Anicia Juliana—only the
single example of Aelia Pulcheria, who practiced ascetic virginity, exists outside
of the traditional role of motherhood. The Theodosian dynasty had a well-
established public image, patterned after the diplomatic Christian piety mod-
elled by Constantine and his mother Helena.15 Except for Pulcheria, who did
eventually marry but claimed a virginal ascetic life, the Theodosian empresses
instituted a new kind of Christian female identity that emphasized power and
influence through their central roles as matrons within the imperial household.
Ironically, those who used the imperial example to perpetuate their idea of
idealized female behaviour named Pulcheria, and her virginal example, as the
“New Helena” at the Council of Chalcedon in 451.16 However, family life, mar-
riage and motherhood were not suddenly and wholly rejected in favor of vir-
ginal asceticism, as is evidenced in many contemporary patristic writings. The
attributes common to Helena and the Virgin Mary, especially their legitimacy
through matrilineal ties, continued to provide powerful exempla for Christian
women throughout the fifth century and beyond.
Theodosian empresses were publicly visible and helped define a distinctive
image of Christian female authority. This authority was legitimized as they,
together with the emperor, emphasized the familial aspects of imperial rule.
What follows here are several brief sketches and the matrilineal connections
describing the major episodes of patronage by and for the women of the
Theodosian household. Their examples were important because they were
conspicuous and lauded an expected kind of behaviour by elite women in late
antiquity—an example not lost on Christian women of all social classes.
13 Brubaker, “Memories,” 56–64.

14 Jan Willem Drijvers, Helena Augusta: The Mother of Constantine the Great (Leiden; New
York: Brill, 1992), 50–52.
15 Carolyn L. Connor, Women of Byzantium (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2004), 46.
16 Late Antiquity: A Guide to the Postclassical World, Glen Bowersock, Peter Brown and Oleg
Grabar, eds. (Cambridge, ma: Harvard University Press, 1999), 359.
the household 135
1.2 Aelia Flavia Flaccilla

The first in the series of Theodosian women discussed here is Flavia Flacilla,
wife of Theodosius i, mother and grandmother to some of the most influential
women of the fourth and fifth centuries. Named Augusta, an honorific title
of imperial authority, in 379 by her husband, her attributes are most well-
known from the funeral speech given by Gregory of Nyssa in her honour.
Gregory praises her basileia or imperial dominion, her eusebeia or piety, her
tapeinophrosyne or humility, her philanthropeia or generous philanthropy and
her philandria or wifely love. All together these attributes pointed to her fertility
and ability to perpetuate the Theodosian line through male heirs.17 Coins
struck in her honour after 383 identify her as Augusta, the official ranking
counterpart to the Emperor, and sharer of imperial power.
As the matriarch of the Theodosian dynasty, Flacilla was idealized as reli-
gious and philanthropic in the encomia offered on her behalf in order to estab-
lish a favourable model for her successors.18 Theodosius promoted images of
Flacilla and associated them with himself and his heirs, with her reputation
enhancing his own piety and keeping him “on the paths of righteousness and
virtue.”19 Her maternal influence was not limited to her household, or even the
Empire, but expanded into the world as demonstrated in her title, despoina
tes oikoumenes or “mistress of the world,” a title also given to Eudokia, wife
of Theodosios ii, by Menander Protector.20 Although there are no churches
attributable to Flacilla, her largesse and reputation underscore her maternal
influence and modelled matronly stature within the Theodosian household.
1.3 Galla Placidia

Daughter of Theodosius i by his second wife, Galla Placidia was heiress to both
the Valentinian and Theodosian dynasties. Following a rather tumultuous early
life and regency for her son, the western emperor Valentinian iii, Galla Placidia
embarked on an ambitious series of artistic commissions. She provided the
mosaic decoration for the ruined Santa Croce in Ravenna, once connected
to the so-called Mausoleum at its narthex, and the triumphal arch mosaics
in the Basilica of San Paulo fuori la Mura in Rome. She was revered as the

18 James, Empresses, 15.
19 James, Empresses, 41, 93.
20 Cf. Arnold Hugh Martin Jones and John Robert Martindale, Prosopography of the Later
Roman Empire, vol. i (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1971); for Eudokia: Greek
Anthology, Loeb Classical Library, trans. W.R. Paton (Cambridge, ma: Harvard University
Press, 1916), Book i.1, 105.
136 chapter 4
patroness of multiple church buildings in Ravenna including San Giovanni

Evangelista where she commissioned a series of mosaic family portraits that
link her lineage to Constantine.21 Commissions by empresses that underscored
familial dynasties and status naturally emphasized their traditional role as
matron. They helped establish the critical connection between their families
and their immediate communities.22
1.4 Eudoxia
Flacilla’s daughter-in-law, Eudoxia, also demonstrated impressive female au-
thority when her husband Arcadius succeeded Theodosius i as emperor of
the East in 395. Although Arcadius proved to be a weak ruler, Eudoxia is
famously remembered as a patroness of churches, and for her devotion to
the relics of saints. Liz James has argued, in relation to empresses as religious
patrons, that “to be pious was to be favoured by God and was an appropri-
ate source of prestige and power.”23 Not only was Eudoxia seen as a patroness
of churches, she was recognized in her role as an imperial mother. Eudoxia
bore Arcadius five children including Pulcheria and Theodosius ii and fre-
quently appeared amongst ordinary women and virgins, who accompanied
processions and relics as part of their lay veneration outside the purview of
the Church.24
1.5 Pulcheria
Eudoxia’s son and heir apparent, Theodosius ii, was raised by his older sister
Pulcheria. In 412, Pulcheria became Theodosius’ official guardian and, although
she was only thirteen, trained him and their two younger sisters, Arcadia and
Marina, in the ideology of Christian politics. These two responsibilities in her
young life indicate that she was either precociously pious, a strategic genius, or
a willing puppet to her patristic counselors. In the end, it is easy to see how she
was probably a combination of all three.
Pulcheria’s power and money were largely vested in perpetuating the cult
of the Virgin. She herself fostered and directed rituals of the Marian cult and
built churches to the Virgin.25 Important relics of the Virgin—her veil, girdle,
and spindle—were conveniently discovered during the era of Ephesus and
21 Brubaker, “Memories,” 53–55.

24 Kenneth G. Holum, Theodosian Empresses: Women and Imperial Dominion in Late Antiq-
uity (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1982), 58–65.
the household 137
were housed in shrines attached to churches dedicated to the Virgin under

Pulcheria’s authority.26 Pulcheria’s patronage helped shift the focus of women’s
religious identity. This shift centred on the codification of the Virgin Mary.
Pulcheria assimilated her own ascetic renunciation with the Virgin’s purity
and virginity, thereby underscoring the ascetic model for Christian women to
follow.
1.6 Athenais Eudocia

The counterpoint to Pulcheria’s ascetic tendencies is found in her beautiful
sister-in-law Athenais Eudocia, a converted pagan woman with a keen intellect,
who was named Augusta in 423 shortly after bearing Theodosius ii a daugh-
ter, Licinia Eudoxia. Athenais Eudocia was a patron in her own right, though
her theological proclivities differed from those of Pulcheria. She was influen-
tial, along with the emperor, in refounding the University of Constantinople
where the curriculum included classical education as well as Christian theol-
ogy and ethics.27 Athenais Eudocia attended the Council of Ephesus in 431 with
Pulcheria and, though she favoured Nestorius, who clearly insisted on distin-
guishing between the humanity and divinity of Christ, she finally supported
the findings of the council; that Mary was indeed the Theotokos or Mother of
God and, therefore, both human and divine natures were united in Christ.28
Athenais Eudocia was also known for her pilgrimage to the Holy Land with her
friend Melania the Younger on which she acquired several important relics and
was an example of devotional acts of Christian piety.29
1.7 Anicia Juliana

Of all the women within the Theodosian household, Anicia Juliana, an imperial
princess born in Constantinople in 461, is most distinguished as a patron
of Christian arts and architecture. She ambitiously carried on her family’s
philanthropic traditions without the advantages of being an empress herself.

28 Cf. Theodosius’ complaint to Cyril regarding the quarreling of the two Augustae in the
household. Cyril, Acta Conciliorum Oecumenicorum i: i.73.22–25.
29 When accused of adultery in 433, she returned to Jerusalem under voluntary exile and
stayed there until she died in 460. Various historians from the sixth and seventh centuries
chronicled Eudocia’s life and relationship with Theodosius in ways that either associate
her with the correct qualities of a good empress or disparage her as an adulterous wife,
according to their own political agendas. Considering that sexual scandal was the pre-
ferred method of denigrating empresses, caution is advised in examining these criticisms.
138 chapter 4
She was a devout Orthodox Christian as well as an aristocrat with old Roman
blood. Anicia Juliana correlated her familial ties with sanctity and a desire to
influence an eternal posterity. She commissioned, and had constructed, the
church of Hagios Polyeuktos between 524 and 527, during the reign of Justin i
(r. 518–527). It was meant to replace an earlier church, built by Eudocia, wife
of Theodosius ii and her great-grandmother. Before Hagios Polyeuktos, Anicia
Juliana had commissioned a church dedicated to the Virgin Mary at Honouratai
in 512. In sponsoring the construction of the church of Hagios Polyeuktos
her aim “was not primarily to commemorate her family, fame and status or
to demonstrate her piety and generosity or to rival Justinian. Her primary
motivation in building this church adjacent to her palace was to provide her
final resting place, through which she intended to claim an enduring place in
history, to achieve immortality.”30
I would further suggest that the inscription blocks from Hagios Polyeuktos
do not exaggerate when they state that Anicia Juliana’s aims were “divine”
and would bring not only immortality to herself, her sons and daughters, but
also immeasurable glory for “as long as the Sun drives his burning chariot.”31
In the tradition of her Roman fathers, Anicia Juliana built an earthly temple
to commemorate the holy and divine nature of her family, her heritage, and
her posterity. The poetic inscriptions carved on the entablature of the church
suggest more than mere patronage; they, like the peacock motifs decorating
the church, intimate apotheosis and eternal life.32 In an age when patristic
tendencies started to favour the single ascetic, and in the face of Pulcheria’s
example, she expressly and publicly aligned her patronage with her familial
relations, deeming them just as worthy of eternal life as the ascetic saints
themselves.
2 Women in Linen and Wool: Domestic Piety and Patronage
Group benefaction from patrons and patronesses, as modelled by imperial

women, played a part in establishing similar behaviours in Christian commu-
nities where exercising artistic patronage was part of Christian identity. Ordi-

31 Greek Anthology, Loeb Classical Library, trans. W.R. Paton (Cambridge, ma: Harvard Uni-
versity Press, 1916), Book i, 9.
32 Within the classical context, peacocks symbolized royalty and, in later Roman times, the
apotheosis of empresses. See Henry Maguire, Earth and Ocean: The Terrestrial World in
Early Byzantine Art (University Park, pa: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1987), 39.
the household 139
nary women with varying financial and social resources also contributed to the
intricate weaving of public and private patronage. The same social networks
exchanged goods, resources, and symbolic meaning within the pagan world
and in early Christian communities. Patterns of patronage operated at social
levels of the middle class with notable examples of women as public patrons
of guilds, clubs, synagogues, and other types of private associations.33 Most evi-
dence of female patronage is epigraphic and is directly connected to women’s
wealth.34 The large number of extant inscriptions indicate that women’s attain-
ment of wealth grew exponentially between the Classical period and the later
Roman world, with the second and third centuries ad maintaining a steady
number of female benefactors.35 Women became public and private benefac-
tors, having attained lands and property, helping them attain status in matters
of religion, politics, and business.36
Pompeii, in particular, provides a unique moment frozen in time, where
an unusual amount of early ephemera remains intact. Evidence from Pom-
peii reveals the extent of ordinary female patronage, particularly in the arena
of business and trade. Women’s business ventures ranged from selling wine
in local taverns, to lending money, and renting their personal property. Their
expertise and the profits from their assets are even recorded on wax tablets
devoted to describing the proceeds acquired by women.37 Women also sup-
ported groups. For example, Eumachia, a public priestess of Pompeii, perhaps
a patron of the fullers’ guild, funded a building in the forum. In return for her
pious act, the guild dedicated a statue to their patroness.38
Other references to female patronage of businesses associated with cloth-
ing and textiles includes a third-century woman named Claudia, the wife of a
freedman from Faleri Piceni, Italy, who is named as the “mother” of a fullers’
brotherhood.39 Women derived status and public honour from their patronage
during late antiquity, especially within a social system where “status took prece-
33 Carolyn Osiek, Margaret Y. MacDonald, and Janet H. Tulloch, A Woman’s Place: House
Churches in Earliest Christianity (Minneapolis, mn: Fortress Press, 2006), 11.
34 Riet Van Bremen, “Women and Wealth”, in Averil Cameron and Amelié Kuhrt, eds., Images
of Women in Antiquity (Detroit, mi: Wayne State University Press, 1993), 226.
35 Van Bremen, “Women and Wealth,” 233.
36 Van Bremen, “Women and Wealth,” 225.
37 cil 4.3340.
38 Osiek, MacDonald, Tulloch, Woman’s Place, 204–205. cil 10.810, 811, 813. A copy of the
statue stands behind their building at the forum in Pompeii.
39 Osiek, MacDonald, Tulloch, Woman’s Place, 208. cil 11.5450.
140 chapter 4
dence over gender as a marker of prestige and power.”40 They could wield that
power in the form of favours, allegiance, and persuasive conversion to causes
like Christianity.
Christian families and households operated within the bounds of economic
patronage along with the rest of society. Likewise, they were at the heart of
gospel patronage. The second-century pagan Celsus, who identified women,
children, and servants as ignorant and easily persuadable targets for mission-
aries, underscored this fact by highlighting the traditional types of people who
seem sympathetic to the Christian cause. He manipulated the stereotypes of
both low social status and gender to present converted Christians as the most
subversive individuals bent on destroying the authority of the Roman house-
hold.
In private houses we see wool-workers, cobblers, laundry workers, and the

most illiterate and bucolic yokels, who would not dare to say anything
at all in front of their elders and more intelligent masters. But whenever
they get hold of children in private and some stupid women with them
… they whisper to them that in the presence of their father and their
schoolmasters they do not feel able to explain anything to the children.
But, if they like, they should leave father and schoolmasters, and go
along with the women and little children who are playfellows to the
wooldresser’s shop, or the cobbler’s or the washerwoman’s shop, that they
may learn perfection. And by saying this they persuade them.41
Texts like this may have more to do with the power struggles between mar-
ried householders and clergy or ascetic celibates like Origen than with actual
household intrigues.42 In fact, the rhetorical nature of anti-Christian accounts
is so biased against household conversion that it accentuates the fact that “ordi-
nary” women were actively contributing to the growth of the church within the
household setting.43
Whether or not the rhetoric of the early Church reflects the actual statistics
of overtly female conversions, it is clear that, by the latter part of the first cen-
40 Osiek, MacDonald, Tulloch, Woman’s Place, 209.

41 Origen, Against Celsus, 3.55. Trans. Chadwick, Contra Celsum, 165–166.
42 Kate Cooper, “Insinuations of Womanly Influence: An Aspect of the Christianization of
the Roman Aristocracy,” Journal of Roman Studies (1992): 150–164.
43 Harold Remus, “Unknown and Yet Well-Known: The Multi-form Formation of Early Chris-
tianity,” in Multiform Heritage: Studies on Early Judaism and Christianity in Honour of
Robert A. Kraft, B.G. Wright, ed. (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1999), 79–93.
the household 141
tury, Christian patronage had become a family affair. Christianity was grafted
onto conventional patterns of family life in some church circles with a “specif-
ically Christian way of raising children, and perhaps a specifically Christian
body of instruction to be imparted to them” by fathers and mothers alike.44
Though not all families were fully converted, women and the Christian mater-
familias had influence over their children and subordinates and exercised it in
conversion efforts. Some of these efforts, according to the patristic record, took
advantage of the wool-dresser’s shop, spinning circles, and cloth production
trades to discuss gospel doctrine. Perhaps the most productive conclusion to be
drawn from Celsus’ observations and Origen’s critique is that Christian women
took on multifaceted roles such as “patrons, heads of households, mothers,
teachers and various kinds of ambassadors of the new faith … [and this] picture
has a unifying element: household life.”45
There is a range of objects that were perhaps commissioned, owned or used
by women from various social classes. Spinning Annunciate iconography found
its way into the decoration of simple objects and tokens collected from pilgrim-
age sites, combining the aesthetics of iconic decoration with objects meaning-
ful to the household of faith in and of themselves. Women who could never
afford luxury items like gold pectoral necklaces could still have had access to
personal objects which evoked the same protective or talismanic powers. A
small silver token with a simple schematic depiction of the spinning Annun-
ciate on one side and an image of the Holy Rider on the other was found at
Caesarea Maritima, a Christian hub and stronghold from the fourth century
onward. Pilgrim tokens, like this one, may have been produced in Nazareth and
acquired by pilgrims, thus the wide scattering and archaeological provenances
of similar items. This tiny token measures a mere 2.7 cm in diameter. The pat-
tern for this specific iconography suggests a particular use by women, and was
especially relevant for women who, while engaged in pilgrimage, sought after
such objects. The same efficacious practice applies to a larger, 14 cm diameter
copper plaque, which, according to the Index of Christian Art listing, may have
been the base or centre of a larger vessel. Inscribed with the words “Blessing
of the Holy Mary …,” this gorgeous fifth-century image evoked Mary’s blessing
in a material easily afforded and acquired by many classes of people. The fact
44 John M.G. Barclay, “The Family as the Bearer of Religion,” in Constructing Early Christian
Families: Family as Social Reality and Metaphor, Halvor Moxes, ed. (London and New York:
Routledge, 1997), 77.
45 Margaret Y. MacDonald, “The Role of Women in the Expansion of Early Christianity,” in
Early Christian Families in Context, Carolyn Osiek and David L. Balch, eds. (Grand Rapids:
Eerdmans Publishing Co., 2003), 157–184.
142 chapter 4
that the rest of the object is missing indicates that this evocative image was
perhaps removed and kept specifically as an object similar in function to a
pilgrim token, blessed object or eulogia.
Scenarios for early Christian pilgrimage are as varied as the paths, sites, and
shrines which demarcated the holy way and the objects that acted as material
markers of the pilgrim’s journey. Yet, for all the varied and mystical contexts
that surround pilgrimage treasures, it is in examining the objects themselves
that we can read the material nuances that inform the fine balance between
“interior spirituality and exterior rite and icon.”46
From the Peace of Constantine until the seventh-century Arab conquest of
the Holy Land, pious travellers could be found en masse along pilgrim roads
leading to sacred sites identified with Christ and his earliest followers. Gary
Vikan has described these Christian pilgrims as “hoi polloi; they came from
every stratum of society, from all vocations (including the indigent and sick),
from every corner of the Christian world.”47 Rarely do we know the identity of
early Christian pilgrims; however, the holy travels and commissions of women
like Helena, Egeria, and Paula have been recorded and provide evidence that
women were an active part of the pilgrim equation. Motivations for pilgrimage
are certainly varied amongst these well-known travellers. Lesser-known voy-
ages made by anonymous pilgrims were likewise varied and accomplished for
religious mandate, solemn vow, longing for healing, the evocation of their faith,
or other personal desires.48 While the purposes and motivations for pilgrimage
could vary, “ultimately, each of these pious travellers was driven by the same
basic conviction; namely, that the sanctity of holy people, holy objects, and holy
places was in some measure transferable through physical contact.”49
Objects, artifacts, tokens, and portable relics were typically accepted by early
Christians as eulogia or blessed objects that became spiritually charged be-
cause of their contact with or proximity to holy persons, places, or things.
Sanctity was communicable through physical contact, received either “directly
and immaterially, as by kissing the True Cross, or it could be conveyed indirectly
through a substance of neutral origin which itself had been blessed by such
contact.”50 Even in rare cases where we have pilgrim diaries, it is rare to find
46 David Frankfurter, Pilgrimage and Holy Space in Late Antique Egypt (Leiden: Brill, 1998),
5.
47 Gary Vikan, Byzantine Pilgrimage Art (Washington, d.c.: Dumbarton Oaks, 1982), 3.
48 Jas Elsner and Ian Rutherford, Pilgrimage in Graeco-Roman and Early Christian Antiquity:
Seeing the Gods (Oxford: Oxford University Press: 2006), 1–40.
49 Vikan, Pilgrimage Art, 5.
50 Vikan, Pilgrimage Art, 11.
the household 143
figure 21 Annunciation pilgrim token from Edfu, Egypt ( front), British

Museum, London, fourth or fifth century ad
notation indicating specific uses for such objects. Images, though not necessary
for an object to operate as a blessed relic, should be considered important
clues to deciphering the iconographic possibilities for its use. Images are rarely
without typological relationships and provide persuasive support for reading
these possible purposes.
A large Annunciation token from Edfu, Egypt (figs. 21, 22) preserved in the
British Museum and dated between the fourth and seventh centuries51 is an
ideal object for such scrutiny.
51 The second quarter of the fifth century signals specific changes in the ways ordinary
women could officially express their religious devotion. It also marked a time when
patterns of unofficial yet sanctified behaviour among women were increasingly censured.
Dating most pilgrimage objects and images confidently between the sixth and seventh
centuries is now the norm in most catalogues, but dating continues to be a complicated
issue. There is no good reason to believe that earlier art historians were misguided in their
dating of most objects to as early as the fifth century. For example, the numerous sources
consulted in the Index of Christian Art, Princeton University, point to earlier dates. Given
144 chapter 4
figure 22 Annunciation pilgrim token from Edfu, Egypt (back), British

Museum, London, fourth or fifth century ad
As an earthenware object, the Edfu token could easily have been created
from earth near or at any of the sites associated with the Annunciation. The
token is more than just an image bearer, just as it is created from more than
just clay. If the clay itself is the substance of blessed material, what then can
we say about the evocative spinning Annunciate iconography?
The Annunciation pilgrim token found at Edfu is not cluttered with multiple
scenes. The scene of the Annunciation is singled out as the sole subject here as
it is on various pilgrim ampullae (fig. 23) and tokens from the fifth and sixth
centuries.
that the destruction and sack of Jerusalem by Shah Khosrau in 614 effectively ended the
stream of pilgrims that had flocked to the Holy Land since the fourth century, it is not only
possible, but also plausible that objects like the Annunciation token should be assigned
to the fifth century or earlier. The simple artistic rendering found on these objects and the
fact that pilgrims were visiting holy sites as early as the fourth century further supports
this dating. Finally, the later dating of the objects by the established academy creates a
glaring absence of any Christian art produced during those early, feverishly Christianizing
centuries, which seems contrary to reason.
the household 145
figure 23 Pilgrim ampulla, provenance unknown, Israel Antiq-

uities Authority, Jerusalem, fifth or sixth century ad
courtesy of israel antiquities authority.
photography by meidad suchowolski
Measuring 4.2cm in diameter, the Edfu example is rather large and dec-
orated with an Annunciation scene in stamped relief. The token is a simple
roundel featuring the Virgin seated on the left with the Angel Gabriel standing
on the right. Mary appears to be seated on a rudimentary, high-backed chair
with her left arm raised to hold a vertical distaff. The distaff is obscured by a
thick rove of wool that winds up from a large basket set at the feet of the Vir-
gin and is the central object in the composition. The rove ends in a bulky ball
at the top of the distaff and then appears to attenuate as it cascades down to
Mary’s right hand, which presumably held a spindle, though the surface wear
has erased any clear evidence.
Both Mary and Gabriel are strikingly nimbed and face each other. Gabriel’s
wings extend the length of his body and, along with the arched back of Mary’s
chair, provide parenthetical accents to the composition. Mary’s body is slightly
larger than Gabriel’s, even though she is seated. Gabriel gestures toward Mary
146 chapter 4
with his left hand in the traditional manner of salutation and meets Mary’s
similar gesture as she holds the distaff. While the facial features of both figures
are lost, if they ever existed in detail, both figures seem to be focused toward the
centre of the composition which, again, serves to highlight the roves of wool on
the distaff.
Although the composition of figures is tight due to the size of the token, it is
not insignificant that the gestures of both figures meet at the centre point. In
fact, they almost touch. Unlike later medieval examples that feature a diffident
Mary and an emboldened Gabriel,52 this simple pilgrim token presents the
Annunciation as a scene of consensus. The task of spinning, the woollen roves,
and the basket are central to the scene, not mere side notes belonging to a
codified visual narrative.
The specific details of wool basket and rove, shown on the Annunciation
token, indicate that this iconography was well-known enough to be mass-
produced by stamping the image into clay with a metal stamp like the one
now in The Walters Art Museum, Baltimore,53 and purchased along pilgrimage
routes. The reverse side of the token shows tiny poke holes created before
the token was fired to prevent cracking.54 The surface of the token appears to
exhibit some traces of polychromy; however, without careful scientific analysis,
this cannot be authenticated.
The task of spinning, by its widespread quotidian nature, lent itself to both
public accessibility and private veneration. The Annunciation token itself be-
came part of the realia of veneration as the token’s clay was perhaps composed
of blessed dust, feasibly from a site associated with the Annunciation. Addi-
tionally, the token was tangible and portable in the same way that Kurt Weitz-
mann described similar objects as “pocket-sized icon(s) for private worship.”55
The edges of the token are slightly blackened, possibly from careful but consis-
tent handling, clear evidence that physical contact with the object was meant
to affect a desired outcome. Effective eulogia were probably carried to distant
places, thus the transfer of this token to seemingly unexpected places, like Edfu,
in Upper Egypt, where it was found.
52 Henry Maguire, “The Self-Conscious Angel,” 377–392.

53 Vikan, Pilgrimage, 15. “Very likely used to make amuletic pilgrim tokens for seafaring
visitors to Chios.”
54 The differing colours of earthen clay pressed into the poke holes on the back perhaps
suggests that the pilgrim could add to the efficaciousness of the token by adding their
own holy clay. This is mere conjecture as the material has not been formally analyzed, but
a thought worth considering.
55 Kurt Weitzmann, Loca Sancta and the Representational Arts of Palestine (Washington, d.c.:
Dumbarton Oaks, 1974), 45 and fig. 33.
the household 147
What could the scene of the Annunciation possibly mean for the pilgrim
who had reason enough to acquire this specific token? Major biblical sites
associated with Christ were the main pilgrimage attractions. However, lesser
sites and objects also vied for the attention of pilgrims and would often merit
a detour. Sites and objects associated with the Annunciation to Mary were
among those on the established circuit, as detailed in the diary of an anony-
mous pilgrim (c. 570) from Piacenza in northern Italy. Entering the Holy Land
by way of Ptolemais, he first visited Diocaesarea (modern Zippori) to see the
chair of the Virgin in which she sat during the Annunciation.56 Significantly, the
earliest church of the Annunciation was found a mere seven kilometers from
Diocaesarea, indicating a localized fascination with the Virgin, and established
sites that catered to pilgrims travelling specifically to the locus sanctus of the
Annunciation shrines.
The Church of the Annunciation in Nazareth, not featured as prominently as
the Church of the Nativity or the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in travel writ-
ings and pilgrimage scholarship, was commissioned by Constantine i simul-
taneous to its more famous counterparts.57 Constantine’s mother Helena also
commissioned a more substantial structure to replace the small fourth-century
shrine that marked the cave where Mary lived as a young girl, probably to
accommodate the growing number of pilgrims. Production of eulogia spe-
cific to this site, some with images that depicted the Annunciation, would be
expected. Like all petitioners, the pilgrim visiting the Church of the Annunci-
ation in Nazareth could easily have been drawn to that site for a multitude of
personal reasons. Perhaps a female pilgrim would supplicate Mary to guarantee
the safety and wellbeing of her children or herself, or even more appropriately,
to intervene in matters of fertility, childbirth, and the wellbeing of the house-
hold. A revealing example of similar effect is the pilgrimage shrine at Qalʿat
as-Simʿān, visited as early as the fifth century by converted Arab Christians in
commemoration of St. Symeon Stylites (d. 459) who had cured one of their
queens of her sterility.58 Likewise, pilgrimage sites dedicated to Mary were pop-
ular to gain similar favour.
56 Cf. Piacenza Pilgrim, Travels from Piacenza (Wilkinson, 1977), as cited in Vikan, Pilgrimage,
6.
57 Joseph Patrich, “Early Christian Churches in the Holy Land,” in Christians and Christianity
in the Holy Land, ed. Ora Limor and Guy Stroumsa (Turnhout: Brepols, 2006), 355–400.
58 Irfan Shahîd, “Arab Christian Pilgrimages in the Proto-Byzantine Period (v–vii centuries),”
in Pilgrimage and Holy Space in Late Antique Egypt, ed. David Frankfurter (Brill: Leiden,
1998), 373–389; esp. 382. Two small tokens from Qalʿat as-Simʿān featuring the Virgin
Annunciate spinning will be discussed briefly. As they were found with other tokens
showing different subjects, it is uncertain whether this provenance indicates that Qalʿat
148 chapter 4
There is proof of pilgrims moving between Palestine and Egypt during the
fifth century. Melania the Younger (c. 383–439), for example, who knew and
read the lives of the saints, travelled to Palestine via Alexandria. The History
of the Monks written in the fourth century by a Jerusalem monk captures
the impression of Egypt as a place of wonders, fertility, antiquity, wisdom,
and escape in an account that seems embellished by Herodotus himself.59 By
the fourth century, Christians were already living in and near Tell Edfu and
had adapted funerary architecture at Hagr Edfu for domestic purposes.60 The
Christians of late antiquity were acutely aware of Hellenistic practices long
established in Edfu under Roman rule. In fact, this influence was dominant
among the Jewish community at Edfu that embraced Hellenistic cults and
traditions during the Roman period and into late antiquity.61 The iconography
of our pilgrim token could, if provenance indicates place of production, just
as easily adapted key Hellenizing elements, such as the prominence of the
spinning motif as a legitimate Christian type, from prototypes at Edfu as it
could from those in the Holy Land.
Vikan suggests that “these objects seem to presuppose a direct and intense
image-viewer relationship, and thereby suggest the possibility that they (the
images) may themselves have had a role to play in the devotional act whereby
the eulogia to which they are bound was exploited.”62 Healing properties were
certainly attributed to pilgrim tokens from the shrine of Symeon Stylites the
Elder at Qalʿat as-Simʿān, where two small Annunciation tokens were found
amongst a cache of eighty tokens in a small glass bowl. Symeon himself, in
as-Simʿān was only the find site. Thus, the tokens were not necessarily produced here.
Shahîd has traced Arab pilgrimage specifically between Nazareth, Bethlehem and Jeru-
salem, indicating the sites of the Annunciation and Nativity as locations of primary
importance. Ibid., 379.
59 Georgia Frank, “Miracles, Monks and Monuments: The Historia Monachorum in Aegypto
as Pilgrims’ Tales,” in Pilgrimage and Holy Space in Late Antique Egypt, ed. David Frank-
furter (Leiden: Brill, 1998), 496.
60 Located approximately 3.5 km. west of Tell Edfu, the British Museum’s project, begun
in 2007 at Hagr Edfu, is currently recording the remains of late antique settlement by
Christians. The aim of the project is to document the site so that it may “re-establish
their (objects with Tell Edfu, Edfu Hagr provenance) socio-historical context.” http://www
.britishmuseum.org/research/research_projects/late_antique_hagr_edfu.aspx (February
15, 2009).
61 Allen Kerkeslager, “Jewish Pilgrimage and Jewish Identity in Hellenistic and Early Roman
Egypt,” in Pilgrimage and Holy Space in Late Antique Egypt, ed. David Frankfurter (Leiden:
Brill, 1998), 218.
62 Vikan, Pilgrimage, 32.
the household 149
Miracle 231, acknowledges the topos of miracle working images: “When you
regard the imprint of our image, it is us that you will see.”63 Effectually, reading
the iconographic image was meant to draw out the same power and miracle
that could be transferred by the saint or holy person to the pilgrim in per-
son. Even keeping Symeon’s charge in mind, it is difficult to balance sacred
ideologies associated with early Christian pilgrimage against the pilgrim’s sub-
jective interaction with holy spaces, places, saints, and objects. This task must
be undertaken for the purpose of understanding pilgrim tokens like that found
at Edfu. The goal is to avoid letting the object become hermeneutically use-
less through an over-generalized definition of the pilgrimage experience, and
to demonstrate the usefulness of the Annunciation iconography within the
context of pilgrimage. It is likewise not helpful to simply reject any trace of con-
sistency in pilgrim experiences. In the case of the Edfu token and those found
at Qalʿat as-Simʿān, this usefulness could range from a mere remembrance of a
visited holy site to a profound invocation of fertility for devotees keen to share
in the same act of motherhood with Mary.
The Holy Land was a hotbed of theological dispute, heresy, visiting pilgrims,
and numerous Christianities. We can hardly imagine that a harmonious and
cohesive practice of pilgrimage existed in this most archetypal of Christian holy
spots.64 The popularity of objects like the Edfu Annunciation token, with its
implicit description of the spinning task, demonstrates that those who vener-
ated the image were interested not only in a salvific afterlife, but also in blessing
their human lives. The wool basket, roves of wool, the spindle, and distaff all
feature prominently on this small wonder-working talisman, meant to protect
and heal. But did this image have the same meaning for all Christian viewers
or pilgrims? Did the spinning Annunciate mean the same thing for a Western
pilgrim adhering to Chalcedonian Orthodoxy as it did for Monophysite Chris-
tians or the Nestorians, all of whom were actively visiting holy sites within easy
proximity of each other? We must argue for varied audience response during
the fourth and fifth centuries as flavored by theological contestation and doctri-
nal differences that often divide along lines of national and racial allegiances.65
63 Vikan, Pilgrimage, 33.

64 Jas Elsner, Pilgrimage, 37.
65 Jas Elsner, “Piety and Passion: Contest and Consesus in the Audiences for Early Christian
Pilgrimage,” in Pilgrimage in Graeco-Roman and Early Christian Antiquity: Seeing the Gods,
ed. Jas Elsner and Ian Rutherford (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008) 411–434. Past
scholarship on pilgrimage has tended to: a. (Historical methods of Gibbon, Bury, Jones,
Runciman) Present Christians of late antiquity as the zealous unwashed, easily taken
advantage of by a “cynical hierarchy,” all too willing to benefit from the populist hysteria.
150 chapter 4
The problem with most scholarly reconstructions is that they tend to generalize
the early Christian audience as a unified group, presupposing a single model of
pilgrim-response.66
By the fifth century, a varied Christian audience had an ample number of
established pilgrimage sites to visit, and they likely visited those that adhered
to their doctrinal allegiances, each interpreting them in very different ways.67
With the split of the Empire in 395, the region of Syro-Palestine, including
Jerusalem, was technically under unified Byzantine control, but the fifth cen-
tury would reify the effective fracture of Christianity into discordant and sep-
arate groups. Arguments over the role and status of Mary were at the heart of
these divisions as acknowledged in the aftermath of the Church councils at
Ephesus and Chalcedon.
The unofficial influence of the cult of Mary added another layer of view-
ership to the mix. In support of a varied viewer response to holy sites, relics,
and images, Jas Elsner comments that “we have to entertain the possibility of
individuals or small groups constructing their own patterns of pilgrimage or rit-
ual within a site either to complement any ‘official’ or authoritative structure
approved by their denomination, or in opposition, or both.”68 While the per-
sonal commitments and worldview of individual pilgrims may have generated
subjective interpretations of the image to fit their own experience and desires,
they may have also relied on a kind of constant expectation from the image of
the spinning Annunciate that superseded the ruptures of denomination.69
b. (Historical methods of Hunt, Baldovin) Align Christian holy places with “an ideal of
communal spirit among the faithful in a still unified Church,” especially in the fourth and
fifth centuries. This approach idealizes certain religious practices like ascetic renunciation
as exclusive avenues for holiness and parallels the argument made in the 1970s by Victor
and Edith Turner that “fosters communitas for its participants—by which they meant ‘a
state of unmediated and egalitarian association between individuals who are temporarily
freed from the hierarchal roles and statuses which they bear in everyday life,’” [John Eade
and Michael Sallnow, Contesting the Sacred (Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois
Press, 1991)] thus privileging the ascetic renunciate and monastic community as the ideal
perfection of Christian behaviour, piety and passion. c. (Art Historical contributions
of Grabar, Weitzmann, Vikan) The work of these art historians is complicit with the
arguments of religious and liturgical historians and presents images and iconography as
demonstrating the “paradigm of Christian unity.” See Elsner, “Piety and Passion,” 423.
66 Elsner, “Piety and Passion,” 424.
69 Elsner, “Piety and Passion,” 430. Elsner cites alternative places of worship for competing
the household 151
That the image of the Virgin Annunciate spinning did evoke a consistent
response from individuals can be intuited from the number of pilgrimage
objects surviving from the fifth to seventh centuries. There are several sardonyx
glyptics, or engraved gems, featuring the spinning Annunciate that may have
acted as miniature icons that, again, had a long history of talismanic character-
istics like those of pilgrim tokens.
Two glyptic cameos, today in the Hermitage in St. Petersburg, have gold
mounts of a later date (figs. 24, 25) and are quite similar to three sardonyx
glyptics in the collection of the Bibliothèque Nationale, Cabinet des Médailles,
Paris. On each of the glyptics, Mary is standing to the left in front a chair, draw-
ing threads from the spinning basket set between her and Gabriel according
to the traditional motif. The figures are carved in the multi-layered gemstone
in low relief so that they stand out and are beautifully defined by the deli-
cate colour variations in the stone. Sardonyx was very popular in the Roman
Empire where it was believed to provide protection and even ensure a happy
marriage.70 Roman soldiers carried sardonyx talismans engraved with heroes
and gods, like Hercules or Mars, in order to gain attributes of courage in bat-
tle. Likewise, Annunciation glyptics performed a similar function, imparting
miraculous attributes generally, and perhaps healing properties specifically, for
Christian pilgrims and devotees alike.
These glyptics, like the Annunciation token from Edfu, could to an extent
be interpreted differently if the viewer was Origenist, Orthodox, Monophysite,
or Nestorian. Where an Origenist could see the image as promoting the vir-
ginal life and exclusive asceticism, an Orthodox viewer could interpret Mary
spinning during the Annunciation as anesoteric symbol of holy motherhood,
of Mary proclaimed Theotokos at the Council of Ephesus, a position under-
scored at Chalcedon. A Monophysite viewer might see Mary and her roves of
wool as symbolic of the single nature of Christ, evolving from a human to a
divine nature in the same way that roves are spun into threads and then woven
into fabric. While on the other hand, a Nestorian could see Mary spinning or
contributing only the mortal elements of Christ’s body, to be joined with the
Christianities with regard to Mary, “as when the Chalcedonians began devotion to the
Mother of God on Mount Zion, after the Tomb of Mary at Gethsemane had fallen into
Monophysite hands.” Veneration of Mary was the primary goal, and it may be that the
unofficial following of Mary made spatial adjustments necessary to accommodate the
more openly opposed divisions in the Church.
70 Cf. Anna M. Miller, Cameos Old and New (London: Robert Hale, 1998); Arthur H. Smith, A
Catalogue of Engraved Gems in the British Museum (London: British Museum, 1888).
152 chapter 4
figure 24 Annunciation glyptic, Sardonyx, The State Hermitage Museum, St.

Petersburg, sixth century ad
© the state hermitage museum. photography by svetlana
suetova
divine element pre-existent to the Annunciation.71 We cannot rely on a strictly

unified model of interpretation for early Christians. Such a single model con-
fuses the memory and experiences of individuals through strict idealizations
and presents only part of the story.
71 These possibilities for viewers of different Christian denominations are imagined. None-
the household 153
figure 25 Annunciation glyptic, Sardonyx, The State Hermitage Museum, St.

Petersburg, sixth century ad
© the state hermitage museum. photography by svetlana
suetova
Regardless of sectarian divisions, the image itself must not be diminished

into uselessness. For all viewers, Mary was consistently presented as a young
woman about to conceive and become a mother. She was presented as faithful
and productive in her household responsibilities, respectable, and industri-
ous. She was the ideal exemplar of fertility and virtue, whether the precedent
theless, they are based on the broadest definitions of Christianity by the differing groups
and are based on how the images could have been interpreted, not necessarily how they
were interpreted.
154 chapter 4
was Jewish proverb or Roman topoi. Although the Holy Land was teeming
with varied nationalities, races, and Christianities,72 the iconographic pattern
for Annunciation imagery remained constant, and carried with it a stable set
of meanings. It was accepted, chosen, and flourished amongst these groups,
precisely because it allowed for both varied responses and unifying consisten-
cies.
Mary, engaged in spinning the scarlet and purple at the Annunciation, was
the resonant archetype of sacred living most directly similar to the reality of
fifth-century life for women, be they young girls, wives, mothers, or widows.
Mary is spinning in the moment that Gabriel appears and reveals to her the
oeconomia of God and her role as mother to Christ. For female pilgrims, and
female viewers who encountered pilgrimage objects outside the pilgrimage set-
ting, this iconography significantly reflected the realia of divine interest in the
humblest, the most mundane, the most domestic, and unexceptional of cir-
cumstances. This iconography represented an ideal that had appeal for women
who wanted their own household to be favoured by God, regardless of for-
mal doctrinal disputes. Christianity and Christian iconography did not require
nor necessarily celebrate throwing off the bonds of family life or rejecting it
as incompatible or less compatible with access to God and holy living. Most
female Christians defined themselves according to that holy domestic stan-
dard, regardless of their varied doctrinal persuasions.
It seems most probable that the depiction of the Annunciation on a pilgrim
token was intended to remind the pilgrim of the impossible fertility of the
Virgin, and specifically of the miraculous origin of her Child. The woollen roves
that appear so dominantly on the token would have been easily recognizable
from daily life, not only as a symbol of female virtue, but also, as they had been
for generations, representative of the successful economy of the household, the
mythological association of one’s lifespan, and the protection of children and
family.73
It is necessary to consider a more inclusive definition of female sanctity and
holy behaviour for early Christian women whose lives fit the traditional social

73 The concept of the “loving nuclear family” as part of Roman and early Christian culture is
not a matter of contestation here, rather the more basic appeal to preserve one’s posterity
and property as well as to adhere to social needs and customs guides this argument. Cf.
Geoffrey Nathan, The Family in Late Antiquity (London: Routledge, 2000). Nathan shows
that the effect of the Church on family life is minimal up to the sixth century, further
supporting the idea that Roman precedent was the primary factor in familial structures of
the fifth century.
the household 155
patterns of marriage and motherhood. Those women who could combine

spiritual depth with practical accomplishment did no small thing; yet they
remained largely uncelebrated by prominent male ecclesiastics of the time.
Most Christian women who spent their lives as ordinary householders have no
lasting acknowledgement, even in epitaph. It is extraordinary to find modest
evidence of devout women who were also patrons in the Christian cause. A rare
example of female patronage from the early third century is an exceptional case
where an inscription identifies a table donated by a woman named Akeptous
for use in the Tel Meggido prayer hall: “The God-loving Akeptous has offered
the table to God Jesus Christ as a memorial.”74 It is important to recognize
those women who remained all their lives the devout lovers of reality75 while
seeking after holiness at the same time. The simple Edfu Annunciation pilgrim
token with the iconography of Mary spinning, perhaps better than any other
single iconographic type, sustained the quotidian awareness of God’s attention
toward virtuous women and family life.
3 Late Antique Textiles and the Domestic Sphere
Women took part in patronizing cloth manufacture during the fourth century
and took particular interest in choosing cloth with pictures of Christian stories.
Patrons commissioned specific subjects and may have provided prototypical
models to the weaver. Bishop Asterius (d. 410) acknowledges this practice in
the same breath that he criticizes the mistaken, but pious people who wear
images of this sort. He says, “rich men and women … selected pictures from
the Holy Story and give them to the weaver to depict.”76 Patrons could provide
written instructions or even a sketch to the weaver who was probably trained in
adapting symbolic images in a creative way in order to narrate a particular story
and include images requested by the paying patron. Again, Asterius provides
converse evidence for the Christian patronage of such garments when he
denounces the practice; “Among the wealthy many of the devout, choosing the
74 Vassilios Tzaferis, “Inscribed ‘To God Jesus Christ,’” Biblical Archaeology Review, http://
www.bib-arch.org/online-exclusives/oldest-church-02.asp#location1, accessed Septem-
ber 26, 2012.
75 Cf. Evelyn Underhill, Mysticism (New York: Noonday Press, 1999).
76 Asterius of Amasea, The Rich Man and Lazarus, as cited in Roger Pearse’s Tertullian
Project: Asterius of Amasea: Sermons (1904), 17–44. www.tertullian.org/fathers/asterius_01
_sermon1.htm. Accessed October 2, 2012. Cf. Mechthild Flury-Lemberg, Textile Conserva-
tion and Research (Bern: Abegg-Stiftung, 1988), 368–369; Henry Maguire, “Garments,” 220.
156 chapter 4
Gospel story, have handed it to the weavers; … and in doing this, they think
themselves pious and clothed in garments pleasing to the Lord.”77
Patrons were influenced by societal expectations and traditions when it
came to choosing or making their clothing. When it was a matter of choice,
individuals could dictate textile decoration according to what was stylish, what
was appropriate for different occasions, and what would win the favour of
the gods and ward off evil spirits. Choosing the Marian cycle with specific
emphasis on the tasks and events of her early life was not accidental, nor was
choosing this cloth for burial. Linen cloth was often chosen for burial garments,
perhaps because it was the finest cloth available or perhaps it was a well-loved
heirloom valued for its imagery. Naturally, when circumstances allowed, we can
imagine that resources were not spared in the burial of loved ones. Further,
the burial context of the textiles discussed in this chapter indicates careful,
personal patronage in the case of their final function, regardless of the original
function as garment, decoration, household textile, or wall-hanging, liturgical
or domestic.78
Egyptian Christians may not have believed that they would weigh their
hearts on the scale of the dead against the feather of Maʾat, or that the god
Ammut was waiting to devour their heavy, wicked, or burdened hearts, but they
did adopt and adapt the same principle in the Christian eschatology of the soul.
In matters of death, the traditions of the Egyptians and the late antique Copts
coincide in similar ways. Both systems present all of the deceased’s goodness,
virtue, good works, beliefs, and innermost self before God to be accepted and
esteemed, to garner favour, to be well considered. It was important to capture
the attention of deity, especially when faced with the unknown prospects of
death and the afterlife.79
77 Asterios of Amaseia, Homily on the Gospel according to Luke, pg 40, 165–168; as cited in
Mango, Byzantine Empire, 50–51.
78 Marie-Helene Rutschowscaya argues that larger Coptic textiles like the linen Victoria &
Albert fragments would have originally been wall-hangings, probably within a liturgical
setting. While curtains and textiles were hung in churches and domestic spaces, it is
impossible to say where or if these linen burial wrappings were used in such a way. It
is only the end use that can be securely analyzed. Rutschowscaya, “The Mother of God in
Coptic Textiles,” 219–225.
79 Peter Brown, “The End of the Ancient Other World: Death and Afterlife between Late
Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages” (lecture, Yale University, New Haven, ct, October
1996), http://tannerlectures.utah.edu/lectures/documents/Brown99.pdf. Accessed Octo-
ber 2, 2012.
the household 157
On a less esoteric note, it was comforting to clothe the deceased in familiar

garments with images that were precious, powerful, or even sentimental. The
daily labour of spinning fibres could be mundane work, but practice was the
key to meeting household needs and gaining economic benefit. Burial linens
were often part of household production. Moreover, spinning was a socially
stable symbol of womanhood; it enhanced the status of family honour and it
allotted women time to be still, to think, and to contemplate mundane or holy
things. In death, when late antique Christians expected an intimate encounter
with deity, they took special care to avoid being found wanting; they desired
to be marked as sanctified, as idealized, and virtuous beyond a mere external
façade.
Classical motifs, like spinning, are flexible in nature and transferred easily
between the centres of the known world during late antiquity. Traditional
Egyptian beliefs and cult worship centred on a pantheon of gods and goddesses
who acted as principals in the cycles of fertility, birth, death, rebirth, and eternal
life.80 Christ’s correlation with Osiris or Mary’s association with Isis obviously
stand out with regard to Christian adaptations of fertility, birth, resurrection,
and judgment in the afterlife. Christian doctrines of salvation were based on
similar cycles. Thus, Christ was easily equated with Dionysos or Nilos and their
powers of prosperity and renewal. Even though the official Church recognized
the dangers of contaminated doctrines, material culture shows a persistence in
systems of visual continuity long established throughout antiquity.81
Certainly, there were vocal critics of paganism in the early Church, for exam-
ple in the textile producing city of Panopolis, as was the case with Shenute the
Archimandrite to be discussed in this chapter. The fact that the Church Fathers
spoke out against heretical Christian behaviour, especially against those who
claimed to be Christian but were reluctant to give up pagan cultural customs,
superstitions, and the rites of their fathers, indicates that these things were
deeply ingrained into the cultural milieu.82 The practice of maintaining tra-
ditions within the household was probably associated with a desire to demon-
strate familial social status and connections amongst early Christians in the
same way that Romans proclaimed allegiance to their mythological heritage.
As is so often the case, those who are vocal or who record their opinions are
the voices remembered.
80 Cf. Roger Bagnall, Egypt in Late Antiquity (Princeton, nj: Princeton University Press, 1993).
81 Annemarie Stauffer, Textiles of Late Antiquity (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art,
1996), 51.
82 John North and Simon Price, eds., The Religious History of the Roman Empire: Pagans, Jews
and Christians (Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 2011), 385–505.
158 chapter 4
Regarding the figural decoration of worn textiles, the practice was contin-
ued by both pagan and Christian people, though it met with some opposi-
tion from the more ascetic-minded Church Fathers. The historian Ammianus
Marcellinus (d. after 391) informs us that decorated garments and mantles
were not uncommon amongst the Roman aristocracy and included figural dec-
oration.83 As previously mentioned, the Syrian Asterius, bishop of Amaseia
(d. 410), documents this same phenomenon among the Christian commu-
nity, condemning the popular fashion of decorating garments with pictorial
scenes from the gospels: “They have invented some kind of vain and curious
warp and ’broidery which, by means of the interweaving of warp and weft,
imitates the quality of painting and represents upon garments the forms of
all kinds of living beings, and so they devise for themselves, their wives and
children gay-coloured dresses decorated with thousands of figures. When they
come out in public dressed in this fashion, they appear like painted walls to
those they meet.”84 Although his comments do not relate to figural decora-
tion, John Chrysostom was also critical of the conspicuous display of material
abundance amongst Christians of the fourth century in Constantinople. In his
tenth homily on Paul’s Epistle to the Philippians, he reprimands those who
wear costly clothing, flaunting their wealth while sweating beneath their many
layers.85
While the fourth century had its share of critics concerning non-Christian
influence and imagery, others like Augustine admit that much pagan symbol-
ism was well adapted to communicating truth, morality, and characteristics of
worship. In fact he says, “these [symbols] are, so to speak, their gold and silver,
which they did not create themselves, but dug out of the mines of God’s prov-
idence which are everywhere scattered abroad, and are perversely and unlaw-
fully prostituting to the worship of devils.”86 Scholars have also pointed out
that there were those who accepted the parallels between pagan and Christian
iconography since, “from its beginnings Christian imagery found expression
entirely, almost uniquely, in the general language of the visual arts and with the
83 Ammianus Marcellinus, History 14.6.9, as cited in Henry Maguire, “The Good Life,” in
Late Antique and Medieval Art of the Mediterranean World, ed. Eva R. Hoffman (Oxford:
Blackwell Publishing, 2007), 67.
84 Asterius of Amasea, Homilia i, pg 40, 165–168; trans. Mango, Byzantine Empire, 50–51.
85 John Chrysostom, Homily on Philippians 10, pg 62, 259–264. See also, Maguire, “Good Life,”
63.
86 Augustine, On Christian Doctrine 40.60; Christian Classics Ethereal Library, netLibrary,
Web. 22 July 2011.
the household 159
techniques of imagery commonly practiced within the Roman Empire from the
second to the fourth centuries.”87
From the late fourth century, there were a number of “crypto-pagans,” those
who professed Christianity but secretly practiced paganism in Egypt, and who
were expressly noted under the critical eye of Shenute the Archimandrite,
who spent his life as the head of a large monastic community across the Nile
from Panopolis.88 Regardless of his criticisms, lay Christians held onto the
traditions and practices of their non-Christian heritage. Shenute was intent on
rooting out such Christians who had converted with less than sincere intent or
who had seemed to convert, but then carried on mixing Christian and pagan
practices.89 Even those who wholeheartedly adopted Christianity maintained
the household traditions of their fathers, as is evident in the censure of such
behaviour in the many ecumenical canons geared to root out such practices.
It stands to reason that syncretistic symbolism was literally woven into the
iconography of the early Christians and their textiles. The image of the Virgin
Annunciate may have conveyed a moralising message to the wearer of the
garment, or perhaps symbolized a virtuous aspiration in the same way that
pagan personifications provided didactic messages.
Some of the most ordinary, yet fragile, artifacts related to death and burial
are textile remains produced within the household and preserved in the arid
gravesites of Egypt. Following the initial fascination of the late nineteenth
century with digging for Egyptian burial artifacts, the study of late antique
textiles enjoyed a revival of sorts. This renewed appeal was due, in part, to
the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s exhibition, “The Age of Spirituality.” Since
then, several scholars have acknowledged the rare antiquity and exceptional
quality of the so-called Mary Silk conserved in the Abegg Stiftung Collection in
Riggisberg, Switzerland (figs. 26, 27).
Although the Annunciation figures prominently in this textile, it is only
mentioned as a narrative element in the sequence of Christian scenes.90 This
is due, in part, to the mid-to late fourth century dating of the Mary Silk, well
before the Council of Ephesus officially pronounced Mary as Theotokos.
87 Grabar, Christian Iconography, xliii.

88 Ramsay MacMullen, Christianity and Paganism in the Fourth to Eighth Centuries (New
Haven, ct; London: Yale University Press, 1997), 27–28, 144–147, 153.
89 Stephen Emmel, “From the Other Side of the Nile: Shenute and Panopolis,” in Perspectives
on Panopolis, ed. A. Egberts, B.P. Muhs, and J. Van der Vliet (Leiden; Boston; Köln: Brill,
2002), 110.
90 Sheila McNally, “Syncretism in Panopolis,” in Perspectives on Panopolis, 145–164.
160 chapter 4
figure 26 Mary silk, Abegg-Stiftung Collection, Switzerland, fourth century ad

© abegg-stiftung, ch-3132 riggisberg, 1988. photography by
christoph von viràg
Textiles can be problematic in that their provenance is typically unknown

beyond the general find site. We do know that the Abegg-Stiftung Mary Silk
was found in a gravesite in Panopolis, Egypt and buried along with a Dionysiac
hanging, though these could have originated elsewhere. Finished textiles were
often transferred from their production site, and patterns and materials were
divided or cut into fragments and easily exported from region to region. Of the
forty-six textiles listed in the Index of Christian Art from the late ancient period,
most are Coptic, with five featuring scenes of the Annunciation with Mary spin-
ning or with wool-working paraphernalia. Other typical scenes found printed,
embroidered, or woven into textiles include: various saints, the Adoration of
the Magi, miracle scenes, the Virgin in the temple, hunting and animal scenes,
female personifications, pagan scenes, and images of putti. Although dating is
not of primary concern here, it should be noted that textiles are often assigned
the latest reasonable date, erring on the side of caution, although the third
and fourth centuries are increasingly devoid of any artistic evidence. Dating
is a problem for many textile finds in Egypt as they were sometimes dug up en
masse from undocumented gravesites, simply to be sold on the open market or
to private collectors.91 However, there are some textiles, to be discussed here,
that have received careful attention and are dated to our period.
91 Exceptions to this rule are the archeological records of Flinders Petrie, an English Egyptol-
ogist and pioneer of systematic methodology in archaeology and preservation of artifacts,
who first went to Egypt in the 1880s and continued recording his practices for five decades.
the household 161
figure 27 Mary silk, schematic drawing, Abegg-Stiftung Collection, Switzerland

© abegg-stiftung, ch-3132 riggisberg. drawing by barbara
matuella
The massive cemeteries at ancient Panopolis, or modern-day Akhmim, were

in use and reuse for centuries with much of their burial contents preserved
and distributed to different museums. Despite the copious number of textiles,
most still remain undocumented.92 Marie-Hélène Rutschowscaya’s opinion
92 Other examples include those found in the Kharga Oasis, an extremely rich excavation
site southwest of Akhmim used as a direct source from which many museum collections,
including The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, were furnished from 1908.
162 chapter 4
that Christian subject matter in textiles is a rarity is based largely on the few
pieces that have been published.93 It is reasonable to assume that iconographic
patterns which consistently appear amongst the rarest of Christian-Coptic
archaeological finds are meaningful and reveal a common, if also syncretistic,
fascination with the spinning motif. While it is exceptional to find unequivocal
Christian imagery and design in late antique textiles, those that include scenes
of the Annunciation demonstrate that it was not atypical.
4 Textile Patronage in Panopolis
The popularity of decorated clothing in late antique Egypt can be dated as

early as the third century with large production of coloured garments being
well documented.94 Flax was highly valued and widely cultivated in Egypt
to produce enviable linen textiles, but wool and silk were also gaining in
popularity. “Silks and the knowledge of silk-weaving spread from the Near and
Middle East to Egypt. The finds are rare but sufficient, nevertheless, to allow us
to deduce that before the Islamic conquest of Egypt (640–642) they must have
been among the rarest and most costly creations available.”95 The costliness of
silk encouraged weavers to imitate the designs and images of the finest cloth in
less expensive materials, or even combine silk with wool. Many Coptic textiles
found in Egypt and the eastern Mediterranean can be dated to the fourth
and fifth centuries ad, centuries that were dominated by a Roman worldview
and Hellenistic iconography.96 It is reasonable to assume that ancient symbols
and implements found on textiles, like spindles and wool baskets, had been
adapted from pre-Christian imagery into the practice of Marian veneration and
its iconography well before 431.
Extant late antique textiles recovered from individual burial sites fall into
the category of personal and domestic objects of the household. They may
have had multiple functions before being used for burial. They reveal the late
93 Marie-Hélène Rutschowscaya, “The Mother of God in Coptic Textiles,” in Mother of God:

Representations of the Virgin in Byzantine Art (Athens: Benaki Museum, 1999), 219–223.
Close and careful analysis of the entire body of textile decoration and the decorative
preferences of individual patrons needs further attention.
94 Stauffer, Textiles, 7. Cf. Ewa Wipszycka, Les resources et les activités économiques des églises
en Egypte du ive au viiie siècle (Brussels: Fondation Egyptologique Reine Elisabeth, 1972),
32.
95 Stauffer, Textiles, 12–13.
96 Stauffer, Textiles, 5.
the household 163
antique penchant for ornament among the Coptic-Christian population and

exhibit the preferences and tastes of their owners and patrons.97 The textiles
examined in this chapter all share a similar motif, the distinctive implements
of spindle, distaff, and wool basket used by Mary to fulfill her allotment of
spinning in scenes of the Annunciation. I propose that these spinning motifs
demonstrate a consistent pattern of idealized meaning for the late antique
viewer and patron, particularly as they are often used to decorate memorial
objects. Though textiles used for burial purposes were sometimes created for
that sole purpose, they had sometimes served an initial function within the
household, as a curtain or wall hanging, for example. Re-using textiles did
not necessarily change the memorial contextual language of the iconography
chosen. If a piece of linen was cherished in life, it could be as poignant in burial
as a newly created or commissioned textile specifically for burial.
When used for burial, these domestically produced textiles took on a memo-
rialising role and provide a standard of spiritual status for Christian women
separate from that conferred by social elitism or ecclesiastical privilege. As
memorial objects, textiles are intimately tied to an individual’s preference,
or the preference of their loved ones, for commemoration. As demonstrated
throughout this study, spinning was connected to powerful precedents and
the motif was easily popularized in Christian iconography precisely because
of its infallible association with virtuous female behaviour, behaviour that was
as much a marker of one’s reputation after death as it was in mortality. It
is unknown whether these textiles come from the graves of women or men,
but this sentiment rings especially true in connection with female burials. It
is not unreasonable that men were also buried with household textiles dec-
orated with Christian iconography, but in the case of female burials, spinning
iconography becomes layered and historically significant within the household
of faith.
Workshops specialized in producing decorative “emblemata” that could be
inserted into or sewn onto wall hangings, furniture covers, and garments. Gar-
ments, in particular, were worn in layers with decoration featured on the outer
layer. A fine example of workshop specialization is illustrated in the wool
on linen embroidered or tapestry woven squares from Akhmim representing
personifications of the four seasons.98 These squares could be sewn together,
“forming iconographic ensembles, such as the four seasons, the goddess Ge
98 Stauffer, Textiles, 11, 32. Cf. Frances Pritchard, Clothing Culture: Dress in Egypt in the First
Millennium ad (Manchester: Whitworth Art Gallery, 2006), 29–31.
164 chapter 4
who personified earth, together with the river god Nilos, and mythological cou-
ples such as Dionysos and Ariadne or Adonis and Aphrodite.”99 Weavers used
patterns and pattern books during this time and much debate goes on concern-
ing the actual creativity of artisan weavers. Even if patterns were used (patterns
were found in excavations of city dump sites)100 and the repeated appearance
of certain motifs throughout time indicates that they were, weavers, carvers,
mosaicists and domestic artisans could still lend their own imagination and
resourcefulness to their projects. Patterns establish, by their existence, that
certain symbols and motifs were desirable. Each of the textile fragments that
follow is different from the next. They follow the antique notion that a pattern
can be manipulated and added to, often drawing individualized and detailed
inspiration from observations common to the ordinary household and genres
of daily life.
5 The Abegg-Stiftung “Mary Silk”
The several fragments of the Mary Silk, now semi-deteriorated, were buried
in the great cemetery outside the city of Panopolis. The silk was discovered
wrapped around a body with an even earlier Dionysiac hanging covering the
body as the exterior shroud.101 We find the Annunciation scene in a variety of
textile media, the earliest of which is this textile fragment dating to the mid-
fourth century. It is an elaborate but fragmentary silk examiton with repeating
patterns, indicating that the scene was being reproduced, possibly for use as
decorative banding.
Among the earliest extant textile finds, the Riggisberg silk features a unique
Marian cycle. Measuring only h. 18.7cm × w. 42 cm, the scenes sequentially
follow Mary’s early life. Mary is shown as a young girl in front of a synagogue
building or the temple. She appears to be approaching the high priest. Her arms
99 Stauffer, Textiles, 11. Cf. M.H. Rutschowscaya, Tissus Coptes (Paris: A. Biro, 1990); Hero
Granger-Taylor, “Textiles”, in Early Christian and Byzantine Art, ed. Richard Temple (Lon-
don: Temple Gallery: Element, 1990), 11–13, 30.
100 Stauffer, Textiles, 12. Cf. R.W. Scheller, A Survey of Medieval Model Books (Haarlem: Erven
F. Bohn, 1963), figs. 2–3; Annemarie Stauffer, “Cartoons for Weavers from Graeco-Roman
Egypt,” Journal of Roman Archaeology Suppl. 19 (1993): 224–230.
101 McNally, “Syncretism in Panopolis,” 147. On clothing and wrapping bodies for burial, see
Fernand Cabrol and Henri Leclercq, Dictionnaire d’archéologie Chrétienne et de liturgie,
vol. ii part i (Paris: Letouzey et Ané, 1924–1953), s.v. “Baouit”, col. 215.
the household 165
figure 28
Mary silk, schematic drawing,
Mary before the High Priest detail,
Abegg-Stiftung Collection,
Switzerland
© abegg-stiftung, ch-3132
riggisberg. drawing by
barbara matuella
are extended and she seems to be dancing as she glances back at the dove of
the Holy Spirit over her right shoulder. A large basket of wool is displayed on a
Corinthian column or pedestal behind the priest (fig. 28).
The temple, identified by the Greek inscription, “Blessing of the …,” precedes
the scene and is shown as a schematic architectural stone structure with a
candlestick under its lintel. Four other scenes follow: the apocryphal calling
of the suitors with a blossoming rod extended toward Joseph the Carpenter
who holds an axe in his hand and stands with a pile of wood at his feet; the
Annunciation at a spring with the wingless Gabriel approaching Mary as she
kneels at the spring with an amphora in her hand; the Nativity, implied by the
head of the ass and a masonry manger with the words Bethlehem above it; and
finally the first bath of the Christ child with the nude infant emerging with open
arms.
The spinning motif is implied through the symbolic implements of the wool
basket, and was steeped in the mythical and legendary tropes of Rome, Greece,
Palestine, and the Ancient Near East. Sheila McNally implies that there are
Dionysiac elements in the scene of the young, dancing Mary who appears
before the high priest at the temple, and which can be associated with the
maenads who danced during Dionysiac rituals.102 I suggest that we read the
scene of Mary’s presentation as more readily attributed to influence from
102 McNally, “Syncretism,” 147. Cf. The Oxford Dictionary of the Classical World, ed. John Rob-
erts (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), s.v. “maenads.”
166 chapter 4
figure 29 Mary silk, reclining nude with Dionysus detail, Abegg-

Stiftung Collection, Switzerland, fourth century ad
© abegg-stiftung, ch-3132 riggisberg.
drawing by barbara matuella
the apocryphal infancy gospels. Of all the scenes in the sequence, the most
overt pagan influences can be recognized in the scene with the infant Jesus
emerging fully nude from his first bath with a reclining, nymph-like female
figure in attendance who leans against a toppled vase, representing his bath
water (fig. 29).103
The wool basket is on the pedestal set immediately behind the priest and
Mary. A fragmentary Greek inscription above the basket indicates that a bless-
ing of some sort was woven into the silk. The blessing could have functioned to
protect the wearer from harm or to invoke the benevolence of Christ or Mary
in life or death. The blessing might also be a referent to Mary’s own blessing at
receiving the scarlet and purple allotment to spin for the temple veil, clearly
pointing to her matrilineal role. The silk cloth was precious and probably used
sparingly in life, if at all, before being chosen as a burial shroud. Perhaps it
was part of a wedding dowry, especially chosen for its repeating pattern, or
used at the last minute as the finest piece of cloth within the household. For
Coptic Egyptians of the fourth century, there were no inconsistencies in appeal-
ing to God for prosperity, fortune, and fertility in life and expressing hope in
salvation and “rebirth” after death. These ancient concepts were so strongly
103 McNally, “Syncretism,” 145–163.

the household 167
associated with late antique textiles “dominated by symbols of fertility (fecun-

ditas), fortune (felicitas temporum), paradise (tryphe), and cyclical renewal.
Age-old magical ideas were alive particularly in clothing ornaments that aimed
at protection from evil powers and attraction of beneficial ones.”104
McNally rejects the idea that these two textiles, buried together, demon-
strate any form of syncretism in early Christian Panopolis. She concludes that,
because of hostilities towards paganism, pagan gods, and pagan magic fos-
tered by some churchmen of the age, Christian iconography was meant to
appropriate, subdue, and reject the pagan heritage from which it freely bor-
rows.105 McNally assumes that the controversial tension between Christians
and non-Christians demonstrated in the writings of early Church Fathers was
the response of all early Christians in and around Panopolis and Alexandria.
Christians in Panopolis lived and worked alongside people with different reli-
gious beliefs and even continued to incorporate pagan motifs and myths on
artifacts and textiles.
The use of pagan types and iconography amongst Christians could occur
in a syncretistic way. Although it is clear that Christianity was differentiating
its practices and ideologies from those of their pagan neighbors, symbols and
motifs were easily and readily adapted and adopted across religious bound-
aries. Syncretism is defined here as the “attempted union or reconciliation of
diverse or opposite tenets or practices, especially in philosophy or religion,”
or “the process of fusing diverse ideas or sensations into a general (inexact)
impression.”106 Although the theology of Christianity and paganism were dis-
tinct and irreconcilable, the borrowing of iconographic elements remained
impressionably commonplace in Egypt, just as it did in other regions that inher-
ited the cultural influences of the Hellenized world.
McNally argues that the designer of the Mary Silk has creatively taken pagan,
even Dionysiac, elements as models for the Marian cycle in order to subdue,
contain, or surpass its pagan qualities. She does not, however, address two
of the more obvious images in the Mary Silk that most quickly undermine
her argument that syncretism was absent in Panopolis. First she argues that
Christian symbolism stamped out or demoted the pagan tradition. While giving
104 Stauffer, Textiles, 13. Cf. Eunice Dauterman Maguire, Henry Maguire, and Maggie J. Dun-
can-Flowers, Art and Holy Powers in the Early Christian House (Urbana-Champaign, il:
University of Illinois Press, 1989); Henry Maguire, “Garments Pleasing to God,”Dumbarton
Oaks Papers 44 (1990), 215–224.
105 McNally, “Syncretism,” 148.
106 “Syncretism,” an entry in the Oxford English Dictionary Online, Oxford University Press,
2010. Accessed January 14, 2010.
168 chapter 4
some deference to the idea of Christians adapting Dionysiac symbolism, she

ignores the fact that Christ’s first bath is clearly associated with the bath of
Dionysus or the first bath of Apollo as seen in a fourth-century mosaic panel
from Paphos.
In the Mary Silk, the infant Jesus emerges cherubic and naked from his first
bath. The baby is presented standing with his arms raised, in the same manner
as the precocious baby Dionysus when he was taken to the nymphs to be
raised as the God of revelry, harvest, abundance, wine, and merrymaking. The
appropriation of this Dionysiac trope in the example of Jesus’ first bath is the
best evidence for adapted iconography in Panopolis. Also included in the scene
is a semi-draped figure, classically coiffed and reclining on her side, in the pose
of a pagan nymph. This figure is either Mary or perhaps a personified attendant
at the birth or bath. If it is Mary shown reclining postpartum at Jesus’ first bath,
displaying her as a partially nude classical nymph or maenad is unique indeed.
If the figure is an attendant, then she is failing in her duties as she reclines while
the new “infant God” surfaces from his bath of his own accord.
Second, McNally does not adequately consider the wool basket and pedestal
set before the young Virgin. She explains it away by saying that baskets of wool
or other commodities may have been part of Dionysiac ritual, taking on holy
properties by their association with ritual or holy places.107 She dispenses with
any other explanation for the basket and does not account for the rich Egyptian
spinning tradition, in which the goddess Tayet was renowned for crafting the
linen bandages used for embalming and mummification. Tayet, remarkably,
also had a cult centre at Akhmim or Panopolis. Long revered as a centre of
linen production, Panopolis was also the find site for the linen Annunciation
fragment in the Victoria and Albert Museum featured next in this chapter.
Additionally, the sacred nature of burial shrouds, garments, and wrappings
in Egypt indicates that the wool basket shown on the Mary Silk was not a
randomly chosen part of the narrative, nor can it be consigned to haphazard
Dionysiac paraphernalia.
If sublimating the pagan heritage of the Roman or Egyptian tradition was the
objective of either the weaver or, more importantly, the patron, it is difficult to
explain an overtly Dionysiac representation of the infant Christ with a semi-
draped, personified figure of his mother. Therefore, McNally chooses not to
consider the overall iconography of the textile or its overall program. The
107 McNally, “Syncretism,” 160–164. McNally stretches the interpretation of the image of
Joseph, identified by the inscription, “Joseph the Carpenter.” She states that Joseph is
holding the rod that flowered when he was chosen to be Mary’s husband. Other scholars
the household 169
figure 30 Annunciation linen fragment, Victoria and Albert Museum, London, fifth century ad
© victoria and albert museum, london
inclusion of Mary dancing before the high priest at the door of the temple,
about to receive her allocation of wool to spin for the temple veil, at one end of
the textile, together with the infant Christ in the guise of Dionysos at the other
end, indicates an adaptation of pagan to Christian imagery.
6 A Linen Burial Cloth from the Victoria and Albert Museum
Other textiles from the burial grounds of Panopolis or Akhmim, Egypt include
the rather large resist-dyed linen pieces, dated between the fourth and sixth
centuries (fig. 30).
Today at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, two linen fragments
preserve two specific scenes from the early life of Mary, the Annunciation
have interpreted the implement as an axe with wood at his feet, identifying his profession
and suitability as a spouse.
170 chapter 4
(fig. 30) and the Nativity.108 Reproduced on a much larger scale than the Mary
Silk, the Panopolis linen shows the Annunciation scene, deliberately cut from
a larger piece, with a continuous image sequence. Measuring 53.3 cm × 66 cm,
this fifth-century plain weave linen cloth could have been readily acquired, as
resist dyed garments were popular and less expensive than woven silk pieces or
embroidery. Linen fabric was certainly more commonly used and more afford-
able than expensive silk, and resist-dyed ornament was easier to reproduce
than woven embellishment.
As previously stated, flax was widely used in Egypt and was highly valued
because it produced long and strong natural fibres used to create linen of vary-
ing qualities. Flax could be harvested after only one hundred days, making it
convenient and readily available for clothing Egypt’s population who consid-
ered it a gift from the Nile.109 Linen fabric dries quickly, resists decay, and was
used in place of cotton or wool, which were never as popular in the Egyptian
climate. Pliny describes flax as an economic cash crop, the income from which
was used to support other imports, including silk:
Flax is mostly sown in sandy soils, and after a single ploughing only. There
is no plant that grows more rapidly than this; sown in spring, it is pulled
up in summer, and is, for this reason as well, productive of considerable
injury to the soil. There may be some, however, who would forgive Egypt
for growing it, as it is by its aid that she imports the merchandize of Arabia
and India.110
Pliny also comments on the fine quality and lightweight nature of flax. Flax
fibres were spun together by gathering loose fibres around a distaff tucked
under the left arm and then spun on spiral-hooked spindles by the right hand
or fingers.
Resist-dyed garments were beautiful in appearance but utilitarian in func-
tion, being designed for the general population in life and death. Linen was
108 Dorothy G. Shepherd, “An Egyptian Textile from the Early Christian Period,” The Bulletin
of the Cleveland Museum of Art, vol. 39, no. 4 (April, 1952): 66–68, 75. Another fragment
comparable to those at the Victoria & Albert, with a style similar to the Mary Silk, is
preserved in the Cleveland Museum of Art and is decorated with scenes from the Old
and New Testaments (fig. 129).
109 Hymn to Hapi, in M. Lichthieum, Ancient Egyptian Literature, vol. i, 207. “People are
clothed with the flax of his fields.”
110 Pliny, Natural History, ed. John Bostock and Henry T. Riley (London: H.G. Bohn, 1898),
Book xix.
the household 171
resist-dyed by applying melted wax, a waxy paste, or another resist substance

by block printing before dipping it in dye. The British Museum’s textile, and
other similar fragments, were dyed with indigo. The resist could then be washed
away, leaving the negative design on the fabric.
Mary is shown in the process of drawing multiple fibre strands out of a large
woven basket in order to attach them to a spindle whorl or looped distaff that
she holds in her left hand. Her gaze is directed up toward the work of her hands
rather than forward toward Gabriel. She is nimbed and wears a scarf tied tightly
to contain her hair. Her face is shown in profile with a large schematic right
eye and ear. She is seated in profile on a bench or chair with a dotted cushion
and a high wicker back, her legs tucked neatly under the chair. Mary’s dress
is suited to her work with her left sleeve pulled up above her elbow to allow
her to easily maneuver the distaff with her forearm without any hindrance.
The wool basket is quite large and sits immediately at Mary’s knee, completely
filling the space between Mary and Gabriel. The fibre basket provides a type of
protective division, symbolizing Mary’s industrious virtue. mapia is inscribed,
naming Mary, just above the basket between the figures of Mary and Gabriel.
Gabriel is elegantly posed with his head turned in a three-quarter view to
glance back at Mary over his right shoulder. His body is accentuated by folds
of drapery, revealing a semi-contrapposto pose with his knees pressing against
his garment, a remarkable detail considering that it is rendered on a resist-
dyed textile. Gabriel seems to hesitate in his assignment, as if he does not
want to disturb Mary from her task. His great wings are folded behind him,
and display scalloped sections indicative of feathers. He has large schematic
eyes and is copiously endowed with curly hair wound in rings, emphasizing by
contrast the fact that Mary’s hair is bound with a scarf or hairnet. Gabriel is
next to a spiral-fluted column that separates the intimacy of the Annunciation
from the female attendant who watches, but is discreetly detached from the
scene. Separating scenes by columns or architectural structures was a common
feature on sarcophagi and some wall paintings from the fourth century. This
additional female figure is nimbed and dressed in a Roman stola with folds that
reflect a slight S-curve to her body, echoing the pose of Gabriel. She gestures
with her right hand and may, in fact, be Mary in a secondary scene as part
of a continuous narrative. All the figures are set against a plain background
and appear to stand on a stage with nothing, apart from the column and the
furnishings, in the frontal picture plane.
The Annunciation scene fills the centre of the horizontal band with two
border patterns on the top and bottom of the fabric. These borders carry
patterns of circles within circles, giving the effect of talismanic protective
eyes. While this may have been the intended effect, the border was probably
172 chapter 4
a simple decorative element used to frame an obviously Christian scene that

ultimately ended up within a burial context. Regardless of its original intent,
burial garments were meant to attract the benevolent gaze of the new Christian
God, and celebrated the maternal role of his mother. The presence of the
Annunciation motif in a funerary context signified that it seemingly belonged
to a Christian believer.
Given that Panopolis was a centre for linen production and was an ancient
cult centre for Tayet, the Egyptian goddess of spinning and weaving, it is not
unreasonable to see this textile as evidence for domestic Marian devotion that
grew out of this tradition and was adapted from female deity types. One of
Tayet’s primary responsibilities was to oversee cloth production for the proper
wrapping of the deceased’s body. The Pyramid Texts record her actions as an
intercessor, clothing the king, protecting the king, gathering together his bones,
and granting him favour among the Egyptian pantheon. For dating purposes, it
is significant that “a number of these textiles which were found were already old
when they were used to pad out mummy wrappings,” indicating that perhaps
the fifth-century dating of these textiles may be late.111 It is clear that the
choice of burial clothing and materials would not have been made lightly.
It is reasonable that the image of the spinning Annunciate was powerfully
significant for its patron within the context of death, being chosen as an
amuletic wrapping rather than added as mere “padding.”
Although this textile was dyed linen, which was not as expensive as silk or
a silk blend, it was still carefully and precisely chosen for its iconography. The
threshold between life and death was constantly in the mind of early Christians
and achieving a smooth transition across it was of paramount importance for
individuals and families. The wool basket, among other symbols, was readily
associated with the life-giving and protective forces of the ancient world. Fur-
ther, the spun roves represented the length of one’s life and demonstrated the
deceased’s virtue in order to attract a benevolent outcome in death and the
afterlife.
7 Later Comparative Textiles
Thinking back to the small dimensions of the Abegg-Stiftung silk, the precious
nature of its materials, the perfect repetition of the intricate design, and the fact
that Panopolis was known as a textile-producing region, one should wonder if
111 http://collections.vam.ac.uk/item/O116028/panel/ (accessed February 2010).

the household 173
figure 31 Silk and wool tapestry bands, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, fifth or sixth
century ad
© the metropolitan museum of art
it was produced as an object to be divided into ornamental bands. One such

textile used as bands is the specimen of wool and silk at the Metropolitan
Museum of Art in New York (fig. 31).112
It features scenes of the Annunciation, Nativity, and Epiphany sewn together
and set between a pair of smaller decorative borders. These bands could be
employed in the decoration of garments or sold for profit as appliqué orna-
ment. Evidence for exact patterns and the recurrence of popular motifs appear
here on this rather small-scale woollen band, which was produced separately
from the garment it decorates. The weaver of the New York wool band plau-
sibly used a model from which the iconographic roots can be traced back to
examples like the Abegg-Stiftung silk piece.
Two other iconographically comparative examples from burial contexts in-
clude the Annunciation and Visitation embroidered roundel in the Victoria and
Albert Museum in London, and the Vatican silk weavings, dated between the
fifth and sixth centuries and sixth and eighth centuries respectively (figs. 32,
33).
These slightly later examples, particularly the Vatican silk, reflect the new
theological emphasis on Mary, confirming her role as Theotokos. The Victoria
and Albert linen roundel, with an undocumented provenance in Egypt, is one
of three roundels, from the same garment, and appears less formalised in
the depiction of Mary. This roundel features silk thread embroidery depicting
the Annunciation and Visitation immediately next to each other. Scholars
have commented on the fragmentary state of roundels like this, indicating
that they would have been sewn into larger pieces, presumably a textile with
112 Anna Muthesius, Studies in Silk in Byzantium (London: The Pindar Press, 2004), 23–31.
Muthesius has noted that silk weaving and importation was part of the Byzantine milieu
from the fifth century onward, and this band has been convincingly tied to fifth- or sixth-
century Byzantium.
174 chapter 4
figure 32 Annunciation & visitation roundel, Victoria and Albert Museum, London, fifth–sixth
century ad
© victoria and albert museum
a prestigious function such as a tunic belonging to a priest of the Coptic

church.113 However, the intended purpose of this roundel is indeterminable and
could have just as easily been intended as an object of private ownership with
a personal or household function. The implication for aggrandizing textiles is
that they could then be assigned an ecclesiastical venue or an elite patron.
Finding the Annunciation motif in private burials, with no extant provenance,
is evidence that the depiction of this scene in fabric was not unusual to ordinary
life and the household. It was likely a personal commission or handmade by
113 http://www.vam.ac.uk/users/node/14938. Accessed October 2, 2011.

the household 175
figure 33 Annunciation silk, Vatican Museum, Rome, sixth–eighth century ad

image courtesy of scala / art resource, ny
someone who valued it during life and found it appropriate and desirable for a
burial shroud.
The Victoria and Albert roundel, a combination of silk thread on a linen
background, has been cut from the original garment as indicated by defined
scissor or knife cuts in the linen around the embroidered scene. The embroi-
dered roundel was sewn into the linen ground rather than being embroidered
directly onto the garment and was part of a burial find from Egypt. Other details
are unknown. Unlike a woven tapestry textile, embroidery was strictly within
the domain of women, as was the task of spinning.114
The roundel features a double scene program with the Annunciation on
the left and the Visitation on the right. In the scene of the Annunciation, a
nimbed Mary is seated on a high-backed wicker chair and cushion under an
architectural half-dome which is segmented into a shell-like design. She grasps
114 The overall condition, at the time of my examination in February, 2009, was remarkably
good with only two sections destroyed or severely worn. The lower right section of embroi-
dery showed small, precise bore holes consistent with insect damage.
176 chapter 4
two distaffs in her left hand and touches her forehead with the same. Her right
hand extends toward Gabriel. Both gestures indicate the moment of surprise
as the Angel addresses Mary. All of the hands are large with each pudgy finger
overly long and outlined in black thread. There are two matching spiral spindles
stuck upright in the large woven wool basket and set on a short column or
pedestal. The two spindles and distaffs have roves wound on them and may
have held the scarlet and the purple assigned to Mary.115 These colours are
no longer distinct as the red and purple dyes have now become discoloured
to variations of mauve, pink, and brown. Mary is dressed in a striped brown
and tan cloth, perhaps once purple and red, with gold asterisk-shaped stars
evenly distributed on the cloth. The stripes are perhaps more indicative of
the artist’s attempt at tonal garment folds rather than actual striping. Mary’s
face is embroidered with a dark peach flesh colour, and her facial features
are somewhat stylized with large eyes and a fixed smile. The lower portion of
Mary’s body is no longer extant.
Gabriel is dressed in a creamy white robe with some highlights in colour, now
turned pink, to show three-dimensional folds. He holds a long staff in his left
hand as he raises his right in a gesture of greeting toward Mary. Gabriel’s wings
are teal green with gold Vs indicating feathers. His right wing is unfurled and
the left is closed neatly behind him, abutting the figures of the Visitation in the
next scene.116 Gabriel is shown barefoot and on tiptoe as he advances toward
Mary. The space between his right arm and his body is reserved for the wool bas-
ket. A large star appears above Gabriel’s nimbed head and wing, almost at the
centre of the composition. The Visitation scene immediately follows Gabriel’s
figure, with Mary and Elizabeth shown embracing each other. Elizabeth wears
a lemongrass gold palla to identify her as an important and separate person
from Mary. Landscape elements, like a tree branch overhead and large plants
and flowers scattered in the scenes, echo the unique and organic quality of
the roundel border; these neatly encompass the scenes in a garden setting and
unite them in a single composition. The border is filled with daisy and heart-
shaped flowers, alternating against a light coloured background, outlined with
dark thread. Again, the general iconography of the scene conforms to the reg-
ular pattern, but the decorative details, treatment of gestures, type of spindles,
115 Egyptians were known to spin flax fibres on two spindles simultaneously, especially when
the fibres had already been prepared in twisted rove balls that could be attached to distaffs
or placed on the floor or in a low basket to feed the spindles.
116 Greens, blues and golds are less likely to distort into other colours as the dyes are chemi-
cally more stable than reds and purples.
the household 177
basket, and chair, all indicate that the artist elaborated upon the elements
of the story by carefully adding household flourishes taken from personal
observation or taste.
A very different example is found in the silk roundels from the Museo Sacro
Cristiano, part of the Vatican Museum, which were probably part of a larger
garment or vestment, possibly used within an ecclesiastical setting. This silk
fragment was found lining a reliquary said to hold the sandals of Christ; yet,
because of its fine and delicate quality its original function was probably as
a garment.117 The Vatican Annunciation roundel may be Egyptian in origin,
possibly coming from Alexandria, or, as Anna Muthesius suggests, may have
been produced in an early Byzantine workshop as late as the ninth century.118
This piece conforms to the established iconography generally, but is more
formalized in detail. Mary is dressed in purple and shown on an elaborate,
bejeweled throne-like chair, with a footstool added to suggest an imperial guise.
The wool basket is set off to the side and features less prominently than in
earlier scenes. The sumptuous, decorative, and formal narrative nature of the
textile seems to be the focus, rather than the detailed or personal elements of
realia that indicate domestic inspiration, commission, and use. Green, yellow,
black, and creamy white silk threads are woven into details against a red
background, making the narrative scene sumptuous and costly.
Highly skilled craftsmen wove the silk medallions with abundant use of pre-
cious materials, suggesting an imperial or ecclesiastical commission. Muthe-
sius suggests several possible stylistic and iconographic comparative objects
which include the ninth-century Gregory Manuscript (Paris Bibl. Nat. Grec.
510), an icon from Sinai, and the mosaic program at Santa Maria Maggiore.
However, these comparisons are chronologically and stylistically disjointed;
they do not consider the complex visual heritage of Annunciation imagery.
Due to its very late date, the Vatican silk clearly shows the stylistic changes
made to Annunciation iconography once the Church codified images of Mary.
Scholarship that ignores the long heritage of this scene is in danger of misun-
derstanding it. The Church will in fact “borrow much of the iconography of
secular abundance and pleasure” converting “the good life dominated by the
late Roman aristocrats into a good life that was controlled by the Church. Thus,
while the deities changed, the rich frames within which they had been pre-
117 www.metmuseum.org/en/exhibitions/listings/2012/byzantium-and-islam/blog/looking
-closer/posts/annunciation-silk. Accessed June 8, 2012.
118 Anna Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving ad 400 to ad1200 (Vienna: Verlag Fassbaender,
1997), 67, 175.
178 chapter 4
sented survived.”119 These frames did survive, and the symbols of spindle and
distaff, at least for a time in late antiquity, represented capable female virtue
associated with strength, abundance, industry, Christian valour, and loyalty to
God. Within the household of faith, these symbols could be taken in hand as
the model for holiness and sanctified living by ordinary Christian women, pro-
ducing “garments pleasing to God” and working out the things of salvation.
8 Burial Garments and the Threshold of Death
There is something very intimate about a pictorial textile, a piece of cloth worn
as clothing or chosen as a burial shroud. It was not just a covering for the
deceased. In the case of buried Coptic textiles, the iconic symbolism of the
spindle, distaff, and roves of fibre spun out by the Virgin as she becomes the
Mother of God was not merely didactic or narrative decoration. Used in this
very personal and private way, the patron or perhaps family of the deceased
chose a burial shroud that demonstrated the beliefs and inherent virtue of the
loved one. There were Christian women who merited the laudable spindle,
who understood its rich meanings, and who embraced its quotidian value in
representing their righteous industrious households. Choosing burial clothes
was no casual concern; it was not enough to protect against evil or guard the
bodily remains of the deceased. Images on burial clothes were intended to
secure the benevolent gaze of God, to initiate a happy and abundant afterlife.
The haphazard archaeological treatment of textiles in the nineteenth cen-
tury does not detract from their preciousness or the rich iconography of those
textiles that survive. The limited oeuvre does, however, restrict our available
body of knowledge. We can say, with certainty, that these textiles produced in
Egypt and the eastern Mediterranean were subject to common iconographic
influences and perhaps even influenced each other. The fact remains that there
are iconographic patterns for representing the Virgin Annunciate spinning in
textile finds, and that these have survived the sands of time and the distur-
bances of grave robbers, rot, and deterioration.
The early life of Christ and Mary’s role as his mother were of interest in the
region of Panopolis. Besides the rich burial grounds and textiles, fragments of
Christian manuscripts have been found at Panopolis or modern-day Akhmim,
119 Henry Maguire, “The Good Life,” in Late Antiquity: A Guide to the Postclassical World,
ed. G.W. Bowerstock, Peter Brown, and Oleg Grabar (Cambridge, ma: Belknap Press of
Harvard University Press, 1999), 81.
the household 179
including the Acts of the Council at Ephesus. This evidence, as well as the persis-
tence of pagan tradition in the region, confirms that although the atmosphere
was often tense between the Christian Copts and the pagan community, it also
provided a rich symbolic and iconographic heritage from which to draw.120 The
Annunciation could have been featured in textile decoration as a result of the
theological debates established at the councils at Ephesus and Chalcedon, but
these earliest textiles, found in multiple anonymous burials, attest to an under-
current of earlier lay interest in Marian iconography, a new iconography that
borrowed old and powerful motifs in a syncretistic way. Coptic textiles buried
with Christian bodies retained the magical, protective symbols of life, fertility,
and rebirth while at the same time marking the deceased as Christian, express-
ing their hope for salvation in a new God.
The full imaginary scope associated with the iconography of the Virgin
Annunciate spinning comes full circle in the work of the Christian poet Caelius
Sedulius (d. c. 440–450). Sedulius demonstrated his devotion to the Virgin
through his lyric-style poetry, especially his Carmen Paschale, which, based on
the four gospels, documents the life of Christ from Annunciation to Resurrec-
tion.121 Sedulius praises Mary’s motherhood in similar ways to his predeces-
sors, including Melito of Sardis and Proclus. He uses the metaphor of a ewe to
describe Mary:
Open to me the narrow way that leads the few

to the city of salvation,
And grant that the lamp of the Word should
shine before my feet
So that the path of my life may guide me
to the confines of that country
Where the good Shepherd guards his flock, where first enters in, Clothed
in white fleece, the Lamb born of the virgin sheep
And then the whole white-clad flock.122
120 Cf. Christianity and Monasticism in Upper Egypt: Akhmim and Sohag, ed. Gawdat Gabra
and Hany N. Takla (Cairo: American University in Cairo Press, 2008). The Acts of the
Council of Ephesus are datable post-431 and may well have anteceded the Victoria & Albert
linen fragment. They certainly came after the Abegg-Stiftung silk, thus providing evidence
for this iconography before Mary is officially named Theotokos.
121 Dictionary of Christian Biography and Literature to the End of the Sixth Century a.d., s.v.
“Sedulius.” www.ccel.org/ccel/wace/biodict.html?term=Sedulius,%205th-cent.%20poet.
Accessed October 2, 2012.
122 Caelius Sedulius, Carmen Paschale i, 79–84; pl 19, 561.
180 chapter 4
Wooly fleece is charged with salvific notions in this poetic excerpt, not only
in reference to Christ and his mother, but also for those who are white-clad. In
other words, those who follow the good Shepherd and are pure before him. If
this flock consisted of only the cloistered ascetic, the monk in his cell, and those
who took vows of virginity, it would quite literally have had a damning effect
on what the Church Fathers themselves call the divine economy of salvation.
Instead, the wooly fleece of sanctified righteousness was the saving power of
redemption through the body of the Lamb of God, offered to all mankind who
would avail themselves of it.123
In a beautiful correlation with the Annunciation, Sedulius references the
Paschal sacrifice of Christ’s death and resurrection and places Mary at the
empty tomb on Easter morning:
At dawn that day

The Virgin Mother, carrying like the other mothers
An offering
Of aromatic ointment, went weeping to the
Well-known tomb
And found the place already empty of a body
But full of power.124
It is not coincidental that the Virgin Annunciate spinning finds its iconographic
pride of place on memorialising objects. Mary was the prime matronly witness
to Christ’s divinity and mission as well as to his mortality. It is no wonder that
the legacy of Marian piety finds its deepest roots in memorialised late antiquity;
a time when juxtaposing access to the divine with very potent and familiar
iconographic similes was as natural as being born, living, breathing, and dying.
9 Conclusions
Ignorance or ambivalence toward the iconography of the spindle and distaff

present in images of the Annunciation denies the impact of women’s tradi-
tional roles, especially as evidences are relatively accessible on objects asso-
123 The notion of the wooly fleece is particularly convincing when it is combined with the
Roman uses of wool, their types of clothing or garments, and its economic function
within the Empire. Wool was considered a protective, life-giving material with apotropaic
qualities as discussed in Chapter One.
124 Caelius Sedulius, Carmen Paschale 5, 322–326; pl 19, 738.
the household 181
ciated with daily Christian living.125 In fact, Mary’s ageless associations with
matronly sanctification had more to do with her veneration than the strident
attempts from a powerful minority to portray her as the untouchable Virginal
ascetic. While ascetic themes may be present in the texts of early Christian-
ity, artistic patronage by and for late ancient women favoured the exemplary
materfamilias, a Christian matron of honourable character who was recognized
as a powerful archetype of holiness for women within her family and commu-
nity. Mary was actively emulated as the sanctified matron, and continued to
play a pivotal role in the growth and strength of Christianity. Moreover, the
fact that images of the Virgin Annunciate spinning exist in abundance, espe-
cially on objects that are likely to have been purchased by and for women, does
not accord with the notion of the ascetic, bereft of all things temporal. Instead,
these pious emblems are salient evidence for the vast and pervasive patronage
and ownership of Annunciation iconography by and for women whose lives
were affirmed and sanctified by their traditional roles, so much so that this
iconography followed these matrons to their graves.
125 To date, this iconography is extant on nearly ten percent of the object types associated
with this study as per those compiled by the Index of Christian Art. This is not an
exhaustive catalogue of all material evidence, but it is a good measure of iconographic
work for early Christian art.
chapter 5
Memorial
For thus was the thread spun which the Moirai gave her.1
∵
Death has always been the great constant and commonplace event throughout
time. During late antiquity, it was not unusual to expect the early death of fam-
ily members or friends, and to be well acquainted with the ritual and material
culture associated with commemorating the dead. Art and artifacts associated
with burials are disproportionately represented in the material record because,
through burial, they passed out of use and were preserved. In many cases, arid
climates and sanctity for the realm of the dead contributed to their survival.
Even though the memorial artifacts presented here represent only a tiny frac-
tion of actual burials, they make up the most substantial category of ancient
objects associated with any single facet of ordinary life.2 This final chapter will
analyze the iconography of the spinning Annunciate on objects further associ-
ated with death and burial. Specifically, this chapter provides a close reading of
the Annunciation image by revisiting the Priscilla catacomb Annunciation as
well as the iconographic and contextual narrative of the Annunciation on the
Pignatta Sarcophagus preserved in Ravenna, Italy, and several Phrygian tomb-
stones with spinning iconography.
As both artifact and icon, the spindle and distaff demonstrate the most
ordinary piety at odds with more elite and codified representations within the
funerary context. They demonstrate that where some saw death as the end of
human life, others memorialised it as an eternal extension to the quotidian
nature of life.3 Choosing the spindle and distaff in association with memorial
objects and images had at least two implications: first, its association with Mary
spinning could remind those left behind of life eternal through the salvific
1 Epitaph from eg 113, 4 (Attica). Cited in Lattimore, Themes, 159.

2 Richard Saller, “Introduction,” in Laurie Brink and Deborah A. Green, Commemorating the
Dead (Berlin; New York: Walter de Gruyter, 2008), 1.

memorial 183
Incarnation. Second, the spindle and distaff were sure and familiar markers of a
capable life lived, no matter how ordinary it had been. In combining the two we
find that the domestic task was elevated through its association with Mary. Of
course there were many other personal associations that viewers and patrons
of this iconography could have extrapolated, but these present the two most
basic, consistent, and rather obvious suggestions. Patrons and viewers who saw
Annunciation images in the catacombs, especially the image in Cubiculum p of
the Catacomb of Priscilla, were presented with an image classically derived in
both composition and symbolic detail, but now, for the first time, placed within
a Christian narrative context.
Apart from the Annunciation scene discussed previously, other significant
images of Mary are found elsewhere in the Catacombs of Priscilla. Located
above an arcosolium approximately 30 meters from Cubiculum p is the earliest
extant image of the Virgin and Child with the prophet Balaam foretelling the
star that would mark the birth of a king:
I shall see Him, but not now: I shall behold Him, but not nigh: there shall
come a Star out of Jacob, and a Sceptre shall rise out of Israel, and shall
smite the corners of Moab, and destroy all the children of Sheth, and
Edom shall be a possession. Seir also shall be a possession for his enemies;
and Israel shall do valiantly. Out of Jacob shall come He that shall have
dominion, and shall destroy him that remaineth of the city.4
Thus, Balaam’s reluctant yet divinely inspired prophecy revealed that a unique
star, associated with Israel, would accompany a future sceptre or king who
would eventually rule the world. Additionally, a third depiction of the Virgin
and Child receiving three magi adorns an arch inside the Greek Chapel. The
Greek Chapel is near the ancient cryptoportico or underground portico, a very
large rectangular area with masonry walls, groin vaults, and a stairway that
led outdoors onto the estate grounds of a suburban Roman villa in what is
today the Villa Ada park on the Via Salaria. The chapel has been positively
identified as a site for Christian worship, and specifically as a site where pious
Christian women gathered on sacred occasions for overnight funerary vigils
amidst the potent realm of the deceased and the vapours of holy sanctity.5
These three images of the Virgin, situated within close proximity of each other,
demonstrate a popular taste for images of Mary celebrated in her role as a
mother and idealized matron.
4 Num. 24:17–19.
5 Denzey, Bone Gatherers, 89–124.
184 chapter 5
Images communicate ideas and can be manipulated or used as a tool of

negotiation to convey certain meanings. The Priscilla Annunciation image
powerfully negotiated a place for virtuous behaviour among female viewers
and patrons, particularly for women and matrons who recognized the symbol-
ism of the spindle and distaff. The patron of Cubiculum p could, for example,
have chosen this scene to have meaning in relation to those buried nearby. No
matter what the intention of the patron, the viewer always has agency within
the viewing process; he or she cannot be coerced against their will to make
cognitive associations. Thus, the argument that fathers and husbands imposed
images like the spinning Annunciate upon daughters, wives, and mothers to
keep them in their place at home, engaged in the drudgery of daily life, is truly
subverted. There is no evidence to support the notion generally that fathers
and husbands, pagan, Jewish, or Christian, had malevolent intentions when
commissioning catacomb paintings, marriage rings, or any of the other objects
discussed in this book. Instead, I propose that the choice of iconography arose
from benevolent intentions, and it was, without exception, utilized as a positive
memorial. The idea that the spinning motif arose from negative power-play is
further dismantled when we consider that catacomb patrons were often female
rather than male.6
1 Comparisons from the Grave: Other Roman Catacombs
The iconography of the Annunciation within the burial setting of the cata-
combs has been largely neglected since the beginning of the twentieth cen-
tury when Fernand Cabrol asserted that De Rossi, Lefort, and Liell had mis-
interpreted the Annunciation scene in the Domitilla catacomb and sided with
Giuseppe Wilpert, who thought that the scene really depicted the three He-
brews with an angel.7 Upon closer investigation we find that there were, in fact,
two scenes now deemed ruined and “of no merit,” according to the Pontifical
Commission for Sacred Archaeology, at the heart of this debate.
The first is the “mis-identified” Annunciation scene (fig. 34) and the second
the Adoration of the Magi (fig. 35).8
6 Denzey, Bone Gatherers, 115, 121, 139, 191, 209.

7 Fernand Cabrol and Henri Leclercq, Dictionnaire d’archéologie Chrétienne et de liturgie, vol. 1,
2nd part (Paris: Letouzey et Ané, 1907), 2255–2256.
8 H.F. Jos. Liell, Die Darstellungen der allerseligsten Jungfrau und Gottesgebärerin Maria auf den
Kunstdenkmälern der Katakomben dogmen- und kunstgeschichtlich bearb. von H.F. Jos. Liell
(Freiburg: Herder, 1887), 211, 241.
memorial 185
figure 34 Annunciation, Domitilla catacomb, Rome
figure 35 Adoration of the Magi, Domitilla catacomb, Rome
Wilpert and Cabrol interpreted the Domitilla Annunciation scene as the three
Hebrews with an angel because of the number of figures featured in the scene.
On the left is a nimbed figure seated in profile on a high-backed chair. This
figure gestures toward a classically-robed standing figure to the right, also
nimbed, whose body leans away from the seated figure. The standing figure is
presented in a three-quarter frontal pose with his right hand gesturing toward
the seated figure as if in supplicated oration. Two other figures appear to
the right, seeming to form part of the same scene, also nimbed and frontally
presented. The presence of these two additional figures confuses the scene and
opens it to mis-interpretation.
186 chapter 5
If we read the scene as a single narrative, without regard to the artistic prac-
tice of continuous narrative, the scene is alien to Christian iconographic reper-
toire and becomes difficult, if not impossible, to identify. However, reading
this scene as a single episode ignores the nature and composition of continual
artistic narrative. There are compelling examples like the Santa Maria Antiqua
Sarcophagus or the Adelfia Sarcophagus, where different scenes from a contin-
uous narrative are presented side by side without defined borders to distinguish
one part of the story from the next.
Admittedly, the famous example of the Junius Bassus sarcophagus uses
architectural pilasters and columns to compartmentalize each scene, but it is
easy to cite a myriad of sarcophagi with scenes that blend into one another
without any formal delineation. A more understandable “mis-interpretation”
of the Domitilla Annunciation would have been the Adoration of the Magi,
but that scene makes its appearance in a similar composition within the same
cubiculum in the same catacomb (fig. 35). In the Adoration scene we find
Mary seated again on a high-backed chair, this time holding the infant Jesus,
approached by three men wearing shorter tunics and trousers, carrying objects
to present to the mother and child. I suggest that rather than changing the
interpretation of the Annunciation scene (fig. 34) into the Old Testament
episode of the three Hebrews, in which the angel is never depicted seated
in profile, this image should be regarded instead as a compound scene with
the second pair of figures, perhaps representing the nimbed figures of Mary
and Elizabeth at the Visitation. The Visitation was not unprecedented as it
sometimes appears as the subsequent scene on the octagonal marriage rings
discussed previously; it was the next logical progression in the salvific witness
narrative cycle.
The Annunciation also makes an appearance in the catacombs of Peter and
Marcellinus in Rome.9 Here the Annunciation is simply represented in one of
the cross-arm scenes flanking Christ as the philosopher teacher in the ceiling
fresco of Cubiculum 17.10 Three other semi-related scenes fill the other arms
of the cross including the Adoration of the Magi, this time with only two wise
9 Another depiction of the Annunciation was present at the Via Latina Catacomb, however
in response to my request for any extant photographic images the Pontifical Commission
for Sacred Archaeology replied that the scene was not available as it had been destroyed.
Most importantly, the evidence from the catacombs of Priscilla, Domitilla, Peter and
Marcellinus, and Via Latina provides confirmation that the scene was clearly in popular
use earlier than the fifth century, and was repeatedly considered appropriate for catacomb
decoration.
10 J.G. Deckers, H.R. Seeliger, and G. Mierke, Die Katakombe “Santi Marcellino e Pietro”:
memorial 187
men, the magi pointing to the star of Bethlehem, and the baptism of Christ.
Orant figures and good shepherd figures alternate in the corners of the ceiling.
Mary is in her traditional seated pose with the Angel Gabriel gesturing toward
her on the right. There are no extant narrative details or defining attributes
associated with the figures, but the dignified composition is consistent with
the earliest traditions of the Annunciation.11
Luigi Gambero rightly uses these early frescoes as examples that “combine
catechesis and Christian devotion.”12 Rome and her classical precedents were
undeniably central to the early development of Christian iconography. Instead
of presenting Mary as the inaccessible Virgin by merely historicizing her life or
focusing on the mystery of her role, the early images, like those found in the
catacombs, imitate most closely the human and practical elements related to
the daily lives and memorial of their viewers.
Mary is rendered as a figure equal in prominence to the angel Gabriel in
the Annunciation frescoes of Priscilla and Domitilla catacombs, creating a
powerfully intimate scene between the two. This scene depicts the moment
when the divine extends directly into the ordinary, the mundane, even the
domestic experience. To be sure, this specific event is anything but ordinary,
yet the quotidian elements of spindle and distaff are present, as Mary is about
to become the mother of Jesus. Those who were commissioned to paint this
scene were likely familiar with the apocryphal account or were directed in
the details of the work including the chair, the thick skein of wool, Mary’s
mode of dress, and the spinning implements. However, if the artist was not
artistically advised, they could have easily taken their models from the work of
real women, whether they were from upper-class households or the tenements.
Choosing the spinning Annunciate as memorial decoration reveals an affinity
for a new type of female exemplar, which rivaled the pagan Magna Mater.
In his work on images of Mary from the catacombs of Rome, Giuseppe
Wilpert aptly remarked, “These paintings, better than any written document
from the period of the persecutions, characterize the position of Mary in the
Church of the first four centuries and show that, in terms of substance, she
Repertorium der Malereien (Vatican City and Münster: Pontificio Istituto di Archeologia
Cristiana/Aschendorff, 1987), Plate 12.
11 This is also the conventional posture assumed by honourable Roman matrons of varied
classes, goddesses like the Magna Mater, and mourning mothers. Cf. Michele Basso,
Simbologia escatologica nella necropoli Vaticana (Vatican City: Tip. Poliglotta Vaticana,
1981), 60. Cf. the marble statuette of Cybele or Magna Mater dated first or second century,
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.
188 chapter 5
was the same person then that she would later become.”13 For our purposes,
Wilpert’s observation is particularly prescient. However, I argue that there are
fundamental differences in the kind of message perpetuated in these earliest
images and later Annunciation scenes where Mary becomes the demi-goddess,
Maria Regina. These earliest representations uniquely demonstrate the role
and image of Mary as an example of matronly virtue, fully aligned with and ac-
cessible to the familial economy of late antiquity. The earliest notions of Mary
as the Virgin Annunciate centred on this very real, however idealized, vision of
a young woman spinning; an image easily understandable and recognizable.
2 The Pignatta Sarcophagus
Generally speaking, the social life of early Christians during the fourth and fifth
centuries was far more concerned with the collective status of the group than
with the individual. Anthropological studies have indicated that the Mediter-
ranean tradition favoured and valued men for their leadership abilities and
women for their unblemished behaviour.14 The collective reputation and legit-
imacy of Christianity was largely dependent on the seemliness of its commu-
nity.15 The community was made up of individuals who could contribute to
the group by aligning their behaviour with the visible signifiers of honourable
Roman behaviour. In adapting the antique trope of spinning for the Virgin, the
Pignatta Sarcophagus is early evidence that this specific signifier was powerful
and meaningful within the context of death and burial.
In Ravenna, adjacent to the Church of San Francesco and the tomb of the
exiled poet Dante Alighieri, is a covered portico where we find a lesser-known
large vaulted sarcophagus known as the Pignatta Sarcophagus.16
To judge from its stylistic elements, the sarcophagus dates to no later than
the fifth century.17 It is an extraordinary early example of the contextual depic-
tion of the Annunciation and is juxtaposed with the singular image of Christ
13 Giuseppe Wilpert, Die Malereien der Katakomben Roms, vol. 1 (Frieburg im Breisgau:
Herder, 1903), 197. Author’s translation.
14 Margaret Y. MacDonald, Early Christian Women and Pagan Opinion (Cambridge: Cam-
bridge University Press, 1996), 27.
15 MacDonald, Early Christian Women, 145.
16 Catherine C. Taylor, “The Pignatta Sarcophagus: Late Antique Iconography and the Memo-
rial Culture of Salvation,” Biblical Reception 3 (2015): 30–56.
17 Ormonde Maddock Dalton, Byzantine Art and Archaeology (New York: Dover Publishing,
1961), 137. Cf. Raffaele Garrucci, Storia della arte cristiana nei primi otto secoli della chiesa
memorial 189
figure 36 The Pignatta Sarcophagus, Ravenna, fourth century ad
appearing post-resurrection to Mary Magdalene. Additionally, the figural pre-

sentation of the apocalyptic Christ enthroned and a stag and doe drinking from
a wide-necked krater (figs. 36–39) appear on the broad sides of the sarcopha-
gus.
Although we do find these scenes used together in funerary art, this is
the only sarcophagus that uses these atypical narratives in this unique and
monumental fashion, indicating that it was probably an individual commission
with specifically chosen iconography. In fact, this sarcophagus with its visual
representations of eclectic scenes is valuable precisely because it offers both
material and conceptual evidence toward a complex salvific interpretation.
The Pignatta Sarcophagus as an individual artifact must be examined within
the larger funerary context of late antiquity. When we place the sarcophagus
next to the panoply of objects that depict the Virgin Annunciate spinning,
arguments for the continuity of earlier antique spinning iconography remained
strong in practice, principle, and ideology throughout the late ancient world,
becomes ever more convincing.
scritta dal P. Raffaele Garrucci e corredata della collezione di tutti i monumenti di pittura e
scultura incisi in rame su 500 tavole ed illustrate (Prato, 1873–1881), 344.
190 chapter 5
figure 37 The Pignatta Sarcophagus, Annunciation, Ravenna, fourth century ad

memorial 191
figure 38 The Pignatta Sarcophagus, Noli Me Tangere, Ravenna, fourth century ad

192 chapter 5
figure 39 The Pignatta Sarcophagus, back corner, Ravenna, fourth century ad
2.1 The Sarcophagus in Detail

As with other Ravennate sarcophagi, the Pignatta Sarcophagus is notable for
its state of preservation and was meant to be free standing, thus allowing each
side to be viewed.18 Most comparative sarcophagi are decoratively simple with
only a few figures carved in relief for each panel. The style of the Pignatta
Sarcophagus is closely related in this way to other sarcophagi, like the Twelve
Apostles Sarcophagus depicting Christ enthroned with apostles flanking him.
Likewise, the Two Lambs Sarcophagus depicts two sheep flanking a cross with
palm trees in the background, and the Isaac Sarcophagus shows Mary, seated in
profile, receiving three magi (figs. 40–41). The style of Ravennate fifth-century
sarcophagi is relatively simple, but powerfully iconic when combined in a
narrative program.
18 Marion Lawrence, The Sarcophagi of Ravenna (Roma: “L’Erma” di Bretschneider, 1970), 1.

“Like the sarcophagi of Greek lands, the earlier members were as a rule carved on all four
sides and thus were evidently planned to be free standing and not to be placed against
a wall as were the Latin tombs … This consistency is, however, the rule on the Greek
sarcophagi as on many Asiatic ones, and is the result, of course, of the conception of the
sarcophagus as a house or temple for the body, an idea which is further carried out by the
form of the (barrel vaulted) cover.” Additionally, the sarcophagus features acroteria which
exhibit additional architectural features consistent with temple construction.
memorial 193
figure 40 Twelve Apostles Sarcophagus, Sant’ Apollinare in Classe, Ravenna, fifth century ad
figure 41 Adoration of the Magi, Isaac Sarcophagus, San Vitale, Ravenna, fifth century ad
Ravennate sarcophagi were meant to be read with both figural and sym-
bolic representations used in tandem, with each scene specifically chosen. The
scenes could be understood together in a programmatic way rather than
viewed as separate narratives. Considering the long-standing tradition of “read-
ing” the visual image within the Roman world, and since both figural narrative
scenes and symbolic representations exist together here, little doubt remains
that they were layered in their meaning beyond mere narrative and decoration.
194 chapter 5
figure 42 Pignatta Sarcophagus, front detail, Ravenna, fourth century ad
The iconography of the Pignatta Sarcophagus is exceptional in its program,

and specifically references some relatively obscure biblical passages. The front
frieze panel features three figures evenly placed between two palm trees
(fig. 42). Christ is seated in the centre, his throne elevated on a raised dais with
Peter and Paul standing at equal distance on either side. Most of the facial
features and drapery folds have been worn away. Yet the figures’ natural con-
trapposto stance and monumental, weighty bodies clearly press out against the
drapery and are still easily recognized. Christ is shown trampling the heads of
a lion and a serpent as they crouch at the base of the dais while the tails of the
beasts are under the feet of the flanking disciples.
Also, included on the front panel are two heavily laden palm trees that
are truncated to fit within the frame, delineated by the clean linear fluting of
the lintel and dado as well as the elaborate acanthus-topped pilasters at the
corners.
The back panel includes a stag and doe facing each other as they flank a gen-
erously sized krater vase with volute handles (fig. 43).19 The top rim of the krater
19 Lawrence describes the vase as an oversized kantharos, but the wide necking, the volute
handles and the general shape of the vase indicates a krater rather than an oversized
drinking cup. Also, the krater type fits well within the funerary context of the sarcoph-
agus as many larger kraters were used throughout antiquity as grave markers. Lawrence,
Sarcophagi, 18.
memorial 195
figure 43 Pignatta Sarcophagus, rear detail, Ravenna, fourth century ad
is slightly exaggerated and tipped-up at the rear to show undulating lines

representing water. The krater here seems to stand in symbolically for the
classical font or spring. The stag and doe are relatively proportionate, but their
hindquarters are slightly too large, making their back legs appear squat.
This scene suggests the souls of the righteous from Psalm 42 that eagerly
anticipate their resurrection and judgment before God. The King James Version
of the Psalm reads: “As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my
soul after thee, O God. My Soul thirsteth for God, for the living God; when shall
I come and appear before God?” Clearly this is an allegorical comparison in
which the hart and doe are personifications of righteous disciples.20
On the right short side of the sarcophagus is the Annunciation scene with
Mary seated on a low stool drawing woollen roves vertically to her distaff from
a large woven basket (fig. 44).21 Her pose is characteristically classical and she
sits in profile facing the angel Gabriel.22 This seated pose is commonly seen in
numismatic evidence where female members of the imperial household take
20 Lawrence, Sarcophagi, 18.

21 The rarity of Annunciation scenes on sarcophagi may indicate that it was specifically
chosen by/for a client rather than being part of the typical decorative repertoire readily
available in the workshop.
22 n.b. The Roman sesteria of Faustina the Younger and Sabina.
196 chapter 5
figure 44 Pignatta Sarcophagus Annunciation, right-side detail, Ravenna, fourth century ad
on this seated profile or three-quarter pose in the guise of the Magna Mater,
demonstrating pudicitia.
The Virgin wears a simple stola with her palla wrapped around her shoulders
and draped over her head, demonstrating her traditional piety and modesty.
Mary’s gaze, as assumed by the placement of her face, is directed simultane-
ously toward her handiwork and Gabriel.23 The angel Gabriel faces Mary, and
though he does not appear to be stepping forward, his body is clearly inclined
toward Mary. His right hand is raised in salutation and appears to be grasping
the remaining fragment of a staff, while his left hand holds his garment in front
of him. Gabriel’s wings are large and reach from the top of his head to his knees
with a span that doubles the width of his body. The angel’s attire features a long
tunic and toga and he is presented in a frontal three-quarter pose. Although
Marion Lawrence has concluded that he “looks out rather than at the Virgin,”24
23 All facial features have been weathered or worn away, yet her face remains in profile
without indication of any sideward or forward glance.
memorial 197
figure 45 Pignatta Sarcophagus, Noli Me Tangere, left-side detail, Ravenna, fourth century ad
I suggest that he actually returns Mary’s gaze as a close inspection of Gabriel’s

head reveals the parting of his hair is also in three-quarter view and surviving
drill holes indicate that his gaze was directed toward Mary rather than out
towards the viewer. The background is blank without further reference to the
narrative. It does not show any vegetation or indication of an outdoor scene.
Additionally, a large cross appears in the lunette end of the sarcophagus lid
placed above the Annunciation scene.
The left end of the sarcophagus shows a correlating witness scene of Jesus
appearing to Mary Magdalene (fig. 45). The Pignatta Sarcophagus presents, per-
haps for the first time in extant early Christian art, the iconography of the
resurrected Christ appearing to Mary Magdalene.25 Presenting Mary as the
Annunciate witnessing the reality of Christ’s Incarnation on the right end of the
sarcophagus with Mary Magdalene witnessing the reality of his resurrection on
the opposite end creates a compelling visual record of the book-ended witness
to Christ’s life afforded by, through, and to women. Christ’s tender care and
25 For a full discussion of this attribution and the full iconographic analysis of the Pignatta
Sarcophagus, see Taylor, “Pignatta Sarcophagus.”
198 chapter 5
attention given specifically to women can be further derived from the icono-
graphic elements of the date palm, nourishing Mary who nourished Christ, as
well as the inclusion of the doe as partner to the antlered hart, drinking together
from the fountain of life. The Pignatta Sarcophagus persuasively records these
sentiments on a familial object that was, at the same time, a product of private
lay patronage and meant for public consumption.
The figures of Mary Magdalene and Christ eagerly advance toward each
other with the figure on the right reaching out toward the figure on the left,
a gesture that would never be proffered towards an unknown male figure. Two
cypress trees flank the figures and provide a garden scene, even a tomb or ceme-
tery setting, where Mary, at first confused at being asked whom she sought,
thought that Christ was the gardener or keeper. Cypress trees were long asso-
ciated with death and mourning for both the Greeks and the Romans. Hades
held the cypress tree as sacred, and it was often planted near catacombs and
graves to protect the deceased from evil or any ill-intended purpose. Further,
cypress branches were used in Roman funeral rites and were laid at the door of
the noble deceased.26
While Christ does appear to other women post-resurrection, including Mary
his mother, scriptural accounts recognized that he appeared to Mary Magda-
lene first and alone. Undoubtedly, Mary would have no hesitation reaching
toward Jesus when she recognized him. Unfortunately, the damage or wear to
the sarcophagus shows that the hands of the male figure on the left are miss-
ing. However, the natural break point, where hands ought to be, indicates that
they were within close proximity to the gestured hand of the figure on the right
without a conspicuous touch. This may indicate that Christ’s gesture was one
of hesitant caution as Mary unmistakably reaches towards him. Considering
the present condition of the sarcophagus, it is difficult to tell if the two figures
are gazing directly at each other, but their inclined heads, reaching gestures,
advancing motion, facial shape, and position suggest that they are interacting
in a familiar way; that both figures were eager in being reunited. Both right and
left ends are framed by an incised cornice and dado with flat fluted pilasters
on opposite sides. Additional symbolic ornament found on the sarcophagus
includes multiple crosses, carved acroteria, and the Pignatta family inscription
as it was later used by that family and inscribed accordingly.
Although each of these scenes has been examined for its style and subject
matter, this sarcophagus has not been considered within its whole program-
26 Cf. Lucan, Pharsalia iii.442; Horace, Odes ii.14.23; A Dictionary of Greek and Roman Antiq-
uities, ed. William Smith and Charles Anthon, 3rd American ed. (New York: Harper, 1884),
“Funus,” 554–558.
memorial 199
matic context and monumental iconographic significance. Some scholars have

concluded that the stylistic sources, composition, and format of Ravennate sar-
cophagi necessarily originated outside of Ravenna or even the Latin West.27
Yet, considering the city’s unique political and religious position during the
fifth century, it is not surprising that it was also an artistically dynamic melting
pot. Even if the stylistic elements of these sarcophagi are found to be simi-
lar to sources further afield, there is no clear evidence that the workshop(s)
that produced them were not in the vicinity of Ravenna, nor that the arti-
sans and sculptors working in Ravenna could not have been from other parts
of the Eastern empire. The similarities in size, style, and the number of large
comparable sarcophagi in the city may indicate a local workshop in or around
Ravenna. Considering that multiple quarries are found within close proximity
to the city, and that the courts of Ravenna and Constantinople were closely
connected through the Theodosian Empire, sarcophagi of high quality could
easily have been produced in a workshop in the city.28 This presumption sup-
ports a more probable hypothesis of Italiannate origin rather than importing
sarcophagi from Egypt, Greece, Constantinople, or another provenance in Asia
Minor. The influence of the Empire was perceptible in Ravenna, and it is signif-
icant to note that imperial attitudes clearly allowed for the political merging of
Roman and Christian customs.29
When considered as a whole, the iconographic program of the sarcophagus
becomes charged with apocalyptic and even eschatological meaning reflective
of late fourth and fifth century sentiments regarding life, death, and salvation.
While the figural narratives and symbolic scenes are abbreviated, they are eas-
ily deciphered according to scriptural references and iconographic cues. View-
ing the Annunciation image and contemplating mortality could conjure ideas
of salvation, redemption, and the miracle of the Incarnation, but it also ele-
vated the daily tasks and roles of women who, in their performance of imitatio
Mariae in the guise of the new Magna Mater, continued to symbolize ideal-
ized feminine virtue for Christians and for Rome. The idealized matron was
not solely used as a foil for the legitimacy of her male counterpart. Particu-
larly within earliest Christianity, the role of the idealized wife was primary in
establishing group legitimacy. Furthermore, the fact that traditional patriarchal
structures were in place does not exclude avenues of power available to women.
27 Lawrence, Sarcophagi, 1–26.

28 John Beckwith, Early Christian and Byzantine Art (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1970), 46–47.
29 Mary Harlow, “Galla Placidia: Conduit of Culture?” in Women’s Influence on Classical
Civilization, ed. Fiona McHardy and Eireann Marshall (London and New York: Routledge,
2004), 138–150.
200 chapter 5
In his fourth-century homily on the Annunciation, pseudo-Chrysostom fo-

cuses on the conception of Elizabeth as a proof by which Gabriel’s words are
accepted and God’s omnipotence is established.30 The circumstances of the
Annunciation, beyond the divine mystery of the event, were fundamentally
associated with the topos of espousal, the promise of motherhood, and the
prospect of fertility for even the most unlikely candidates. These themes were
hardly disguised from the female perspective during the fifth century, espe-
cially considering the historicity and symbolism of idealized feminine roles.
The fourth-century domestic household and even Christian house churches
were located at the boundary between public and private life, literally acting
as the epicentre of Christian activity.31 Therefore, we must be extremely cau-
tious about viewing this domesticated scene as simply narrative and therefore
inconsequential, particularly when this imagery becomes the defining senti-
ment of a life memorialized.
The domestic model for the Annunciation, with its public and private rep-
resentations, offered powerful and legitimate parameters for the display of
female devotion in the climate of pre-codified Christianity during the fifth
century. In reading the iconography of the Pignatta Sarcophagus, themes of
eschatology, redemption, and apocalypse are closely related. Christ is literally
presented as the author and finisher of his work, made possible through the
mortal capacity of his mother. The sarcophagus depicts Christ at the begin-
ning of his mortal mission, and attending to final events during his apocalyptic
reign. These events are accented by the symbolic representation of faithful fol-
lowers or disciples. In combining these scenes together on the sarcophagus,
Christian hope for redemption and righteous behaviour are underscored and
legitimized.
In her analysis of the sarcophagi of Ravenna, Marion Lawrence notes that
the iconography of the Annunciation scene on the Pignatta Sarcophagus was
without parallels.32 She references the standard examples of Annunciation
iconography that originated in Egypt and the eastern Mediterranean, includ-
ing the frescoes from Bawit, the ivory plaque from the chair of Maximianus,
textiles also examined in this chapter, and several small objects like medallions,
censers, and the terra cotta token from Edfu. Lawrence’s premise that “it seems
evident that we are dealing with iconography foreign to Italy”33 has ignored the
30 Pseudo-Chrysostom, On the Annunciation to the Mother of God and Against the Impious
Arius, pg 62, 765–768. As cited in Gambero, Mary, 199.
memorial 201
late ancient fascination with the spinning motif, as well as contemporary early
Christian examples in and around Rome. It is naïve to assume that this iconog-
raphy could not have been conflated with that of Roman-occupied Egypt and
Syria from Rome or Constantinople.
3 Patristics in Ravenna
On the eve of the Council of Chalcedon, the council that would create the first
official schism between oriental Orthodoxy found in Alexandria and Antioch
and the rest of the Church in Constantinople and Rome, western theology
formulated compelling language establishing Christ’s full humanity and full
divinity.34 The years after Ephesus and leading up to Chalcedon saw major
Mariological developments like the Mass of the Annunciation performed in
conjunction with the Ambrosian rite and formal recognition of the Virgin in
Roman canon.35
Peter Chrysologus (c. 380–c. 450), a lucid orator and vibrant devotee of
the Virgin, assumed the position of archbishop of Ravenna during the years
between the Councils of Ephesus and Chalcedon. He was a strong proponent
of the teachings of Ephesus. He defended the title Theotokos, although he
preferred to use the Latin Domina, when referring to Mary.36 Chrysologus
unmistakably explains the Annunciation in terms of its symbolic nature and
describes Mary as essential to the economy of salvation: “When someone
conceives as a virgin, gives birth as a virgin and remains a virgin, this is not
normal; it is a sign.”37 In removing Mary from the typical order of marriage and
conception, he did not denigrate the household, marriage, or childbearing as
separate from the model of holiness for ordinary women. Instead, he uses the
Annunciation as a witness event for Mary’s role in the Incarnation. Chrysologus
explained, “He (God) does not take the Virgin away from Joseph but simply
restores her to Christ, to whom she had been promised when she was being
formed in her mother’s womb. Christ, then, takes his own bride; he does not
steal someone else’s.”38 Chrysologus did not see the earthly marriage contract
as contrary to or incompatible with the divine contract.
34 Patrick Gray, The Defense of Chalcedon in the East (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1979), 17.
36 Gambero, Mary, 293–295.
37 Peter Chrysologus, Sermo 138, 1; pl 52, 596; as cited in Gambero, Mary, 295.
38 Peter Chrysologus, Sermo 140, 2; pl 52, 576; as cited in Gambero, Mary, 297.
202 chapter 5
In his analysis of Peter Chrysologus’ work, Luigi Gambero suggests that the
author’s esoteric reasoning may have been too difficult for simple congregants
to understand,39 and that metaphors for marriage, spouses, and union were
helpful only within the context of explaining the Christological Virgin. Nar-
rowing and reducing the exegesis of this particular patristic perspective to
ascetic nuance places artificial parameters on the words of theologians and,
more importantly, on the capacity of the Christian lay population to under-
stand them. Reading exclusive, ascetic distinctions into the theological work of
late antiquity has been detrimental to the wider understanding of late ancient
art. Funerary objects were highly significant to Christians from varied social
strata, and the integration of images of the Virgin Annunciate spinning was par-
ticularly provocative, perhaps, because it presented personal sentiments and
public virtues at the same time. In combining the ancient iconography of the
spindle and distaff in a new, legitimizing Christian way, lay aesthetics became
a mode of authentication for Christian devotion. Within the funerary context,
the iconography of the Virgin Annunciate spinning supports the centre point
of this study; that the model for virtuous matronage, which included the sym-
bols of spindle and distaff, remained structurally sound and even flourished in
the wake of much Mariological debate.
4 Attitudes toward Death and Salvation
The Pignatta Sarcophagus was, first and foremost, meant to house the body(ies)
of the deceased. The use of symbolic and literal messianic imagery was com-
mon practice in the art of early Christianity and both types of representa-
tion could be read as a combined message or deciphered according to their
own individual nuances. The sarcophagi of Ravenna are all of relatively good
quality and all include scenes where Christ is performing miracles like raising
Lazarus or reigning in apocalyptic glory, being worshipped by his followers or
surrounded by his apostles. Christ is also represented as the paschal lamb or ref-
erenced through Old Testament types of salvation like the Daniel in the lion’s
den.
Scenes such as the Annunciation and Visitation illustrated the Incarnation
of Christ as salvific in a similar way. These scenes share the mutual premise
of Christ’s messianic mission with his divinity being declared to mankind
through numerous witnesses. Placing these specific scenes on sarcophagi not
39 Ibid.
memorial 203
only indicated Christian hope in salvation through Christ, but may also have
referred to the deceased’s pious association with Christ’s faithful followers.
Furthermore, the sculptural iconography and interpretations that unify these
sarcophagi signify an interest in associating Christian living with ancient tropes
of salvation, wisdom, sacrifice, loyal discipleship, legitimization, and divine
intercession, all of which have been largely unconsidered in the context of the
Ravenna sarcophagi.
Early Christian attitudes towards death were inherently concerned with
avoiding the consequences of a damning judgment and winning salvation and
immortality. Obviously, death was the necessary means of achieving one’s just
reward in the next life. While martyrdom remained the most conspicuous act
of sacrifice, imitation was also a viable and visible means of demonstrating a
proper attitude of pietas or sacrifice. Saint Gorgonia was notable for her piety as
a married woman and is memorialized in the eulogy delivered at her funeral by
her brother, Gregory Nazianzen, in ad375. Gregory compared Gorgonia to the
ideal wife described in Proverbs 31 as one “who is engaged honourably at home,
who performs her womanly duties with manly courage, her hands constantly
holding the spindle as she prepares double cloaks for her husband, who buys
a field in season, and carefully provides food for her servants, and receives her
friends at a bountiful table, and who exhibits all other qualities for which he
extols in song the modest and industrious woman.”40 Although this oration is
elaborate, it evokes the same imagery used in very simple memorials, even the
epitaph lanam fecit or the ample wool basket depicted on a grave stele.
The nature of salvation automatically creates a relationship between the
saviour and the saved. Salvation can be defined in three ways: first, it con-
notes safety, security or rescue from some peril; second, it signifies a salvaged
state or restoration to an original but lost perfection; and third, it indicates
redemption, restitution, or a ransomed state.41 The iconography of the hart
and doe, as shown on the Pignatta Sarcophagus, who drink from the cup and
“thirsteth after the living God” anticipates the salvation, safety and security
of the righteous who follow Christ. Moreover, the image of Christ enthroned
becomes a straightforward emblem of the redemption of mankind as Christ
treads upon the lion and the serpent, the act that defines deliverance from sin
40 St. Gregory Nazianzen, “On His Sister, St. Gorgonia,” trans. Leo P. McCauley, John J. Sullivan,
Martin R.P. McGuire and Roy J. Deferrari in Funeral Orations by Saint Gregory Nazianzen
and Saint Ambrose (New York: Catholic University of America Press, 1953), 106.
41 Gail Corrington Streete, “Women as Sources of Redemption and Knowledge in Early
Christian Traditions,” in Women and Christian Origins, ed. Ross Shepard Kraemer and Mary
Rose D’Angelo (New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), 330.
204 chapter 5
or evil and reward for the righteous.42 At first glance, the scenes of the Annun-
ciation and Visitation seem to contrast with the Old Testament iconography,
but upon closer examination these scenes represent the mortal embodiment of
messianic prophecy, including the virgin birth found in Isaiah 7 and the shoot
from the stump of Jesse, exemplifying Mary’s lineage, and Christ’s, through the
Davidic line as recorded in Isaiah 11.43 Christ is witnessed entering the world
through seemingly impossible means, means that were a matter of faith for
early believers, here represented on a sarcophagus to memorialise the deceased
in death and exhibit their hope for resurrection.
Early Christians identified themselves with communities of fellow believers
and used imitation as a form of personal piety, thus encouraging patronage of
sarcophagi with ancient iconographic themes. In the frieze scenes of the Pig-
natta Sarcophagus, the Annunciation provided both grand variable and invari-
able exempla for Christian women to imitate, for here is the Virgin humbly
seated at her spinning as the angel Gabriel announces the moment of the
Incarnation of Christ. Besides the theological implications of the Annuncia-
tion, women were familiar with the idealized typos of spinning. That Mary was
performing a typical household task would scarcely have escaped notice. In
choosing the domestic representation of the Annunciation with Mary spin-
ning to decorate the Pignatta Sarcophagus, the patron or artisan participated
in Christianizing the proverbial and defining sentiment of virtuous feminin-
ity as part of a final memorial. The lives of Christian women differed from
one another in family relations, geographic locations, economic circumstances,
and personal preferences. These differences allowed for variable and subjective
interpretations of the subject matter. Yet, the spindle and distaff as symbols of
idealized femininity from past centuries of antiquity also created an invariable
model that resonated within female Christian circles.
Hope in Christian salvation was an evident theme in the frieze sculptures
of the Pignatta Sarcophagus, a theme that unites all of the seemingly varied
scenes. The Annunciation scene provides an important sub-text to the motif of
Christian salvation that was neither subtle nor inconsequential. Within early
Christian communities, women found a richly conflated heritage and symbol-
ism in the model of the Virgin spinning that enriched their own experiences
and lent legitimacy through their imitation of virtuous behaviour to the Chris-
tian community at large.
42 Ps. 91, a messianic psalm that describes the Lord as the deliverer, fulfilling the prophesy
in Genesis 3:15 that the seed of the woman would bruise or crush the head of the serpent,
even as the serpent could bruise His heel.
43 Is. 7:14–16; Is. 11:1.
memorial 205
The Pignatta Sarcophagus provides both material and conceptual evidence

that lends itself to an interpretative evaluation. Although the images come
from different types of evidence and media, there are clear stylistic, icono-
graphic, and contextual information to indicate complex resonances beyond
mere narrative. While the iconographic data is compelling on its own, sustain-
able significant meaning is only accomplished through careful and reasonable
analysis of the object and its aesthetic character.44 Thus, the Pignatta Sarcoph-
agus is an important testament of everyday Christian life and death in late
antiquity.
5 Phrygian Tombstones
Other Christian commissions associating spinning motifs with death and buri-
al include a significant number of tombstones from the Upper Tembris Valley
in modern day Turkey. Of approximately one hundred epitaphs studied by
William Tabbernee, fifty-five of them display iconic elements and, of those,
approximately fifteen feature spindles, distaffs, wool baskets, and wool bows.45
The epitaphs, combined with the iconographic evidence, indicate that many
tombstones featuring wool-working devices were specifically commissioned by
and for Christians. Many of these tombstones feature the identifying inscrip-
tion Christians for a Christian but were not necessarily denominational, though
many have Montanist indicators like wreaths with loaves or a communion
paten on top of an altar, common symbols of Montanist presbyters or dea-
cons.46 Seven tombstones will be discussed here to elucidate the iconographic
continuity of wool-working implements used on memorial objects. The tomb-
stone for the family of Aurelios Markeinanos is one of the few tombstones stud-
ied by Tabbernee that includes spinning iconography and is not overtly Chris-
tian. The inscription dates this tomb marker to the year 389 and names several
co-dedicators, parents, and siblings of the deceased who are still alive at the
time of the dedication. The dedicated inscription states, “If anyone shall bring
44 This method is emphasized in the archaeological arguments made in Luke Lavan, Ellen
Swift and Toon Putzeys, “Material Spatiality in Late Antiquity: Sources, Approaches and
Field Methods,” in Objects in Context, Objects in Use, ed. Luke Lavan, Ellen Swift and Toon
Putzeys (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2007), 16.
45 William Tabbernee, Montanist Inscriptions and Testimonia: Epigraphic Sources Illustrating
the History of Montanism (Macon, ga: Mercer University Press, 1997), 78–317.
46 Tabbernee, Montanist Inscriptions, 78–79.
206 chapter 5
a hand heavy with envy (against this tomb) may that person leave orphaned
children, a bereft household, (and) a wasted life.”47
Of the Phrygian tombstones discussed here, this one is unique in that the
panel is decorated with a large arch and with three front-facing figures under-
neath it. There is no reason to assume that the two men and one woman bore
any resemblance to the deceased or his family; they are probably representa-
tions rendered in a generic fashion. Each figure holds different implements in
their hands. The male in the centre, standing on a small pedestal decorated
with oxen, carries a cattle-prod in his right hand and a stylus and wax tablets in
his left. The male figure on the left holds a pruning knife for vines, perhaps indi-
cating his profession or showing that he was a vineyard owner. The female on
the right holds a spindle and distaff in her left hand. The decoration and sym-
bolic attributes represent an agrarian lifestyle, viticulture, education, wealth,
and virtues of the deceased, and in many cases, the living patron(s).
The Tombstone for Ammia, Tatia and unnamed (grand)son is highly dam-
aged, leaving only a distinctive spindle and distaff in the panel below the epi-
taph. The inscription is dedicated to Eutyches’ female relatives; his mother
Ammia and Tatia, his sister or perhaps cousin as well as an unnamed male. The
Christians for a Christian formula is present in the inscription, thus showing
that the spindle and distaff were familiar motifs for Christians as early as the
second century to c. 310, the period of production for this tombstone.48 The
prominent spindle and distaff are appropriate symbols to commemorate the
domestic virtue of the deceased and to spotlight the merits of beloved female
family members like one’s mother or sister.
Many family tombstones featuring a standardized Christian iconography
date to c. 290–310. There are four tombstones that have multiple dedications
to family members and share similar iconographic decoration. The decoration
of the tombstones was probably prefabricated and featured a cross inside a
wreath as well as other standardized symbols.49 The most common symbolic
motifs for women include spindles, distaffs, wool baskets, and combs; for men,
wax tablets and stylus, oxen and/or horses, cattle-prods, whips, and pruning
47 Tabbernee, Montanist Inscriptions, 317. This rather threatening epitaph may indicate non-
Christian patronage used to ward off evil spirits or evil-doers, but is by no means excluded
from such possibilities as Christians using this same formula to ward off those who might
desecrate a grave.
48 Tabbernee, Montanist Inscriptions, 286–287.
49 Tabbernee has shown that crosses were added to the tombstones as per the request of the
client as opposed to being pre-carved. He also demonstrates that Christians purchased
tombstones with wreaths without crosses. Both were common and acceptable.
memorial 207
hooks. Ostensibly, the pruning hook and wax tablets could also relate to female
attributes and economic contributions as they are carved into the same hori-
zontal register as the spindle, distaff, and combs on some of the tombstones,
though the close proximity of these male/female symbolic motifs could also
indicate the economy of space used by the stonemason, with male symbols on
the left and female symbols on the right. Dedicatory inscriptions are placed
somewhat haphazardly, wherever there was blank space allotted, as is evident
in the Tombstone of Kyrillos, Domna, and Kyriakos where Christians for Chris-
tians has been added inside of the wreath, next to the cross. Multiple family
members were often co-dedicators of these tombstones and both male and
female dedicators are named. It is of interest to note that the tombstone dedi-
cated to Aurelia Domna and Onesime, two women, includes two spindles and
distaffs along with two combs, a wool basket, and a bird. Perhaps some degree
of personal preference and discretionary choice was exercised when it came to
the commission and purchase of a tombstone.
Living women took an active role in preparing and commissioning tomb-
stones for their family members and for themselves. The inscription on a tomb-
stone of unknown provenance, but in the same style as the others mentioned
here, identifies Aurelia Apphion as the woman who, during her life, commis-
sioned the pre-fabricated tombstone for male members of her family and for
herself. The obvious symbols are presented, including the spindle and distaff
as a symbolic emblem for the female deceased. Likewise, Aurelia Appes pre-
pared a tombstone “for her sweetest husband Trophimos also called Krasos;
and their children Trophimos and Nicomachos and Domna and Appes pro-
vided this tomb for their father and mother, while she is still living. Christians
for a Christian.”50 Another example of a female commission is the Tombstone
of Loukios and Tatia, husband and wife, prepared by Loukios’ relative Markia.
Today in the Usak Museum, Turkey, this tombstone was decorated with a dou-
ble arcade, with double-leaf plant tendrils. Underneath the left arch is a large
hand mirror flanked by a comb and a jar with a stopper. Above the mirror is a
spindle and distaff. Under the arch on the right we find an interesting combi-
nation of a double-leaf motif on top of a wreath encircling a cross with double
horizontal lines on top of a three-legged table.51
The overall architectural composition found on these tombstones follows
the traditional format for sarcophagi and funerary monuments of the second,
50 Tabbernee, Montanist Inscriptions, 252.

51 Tabbernee, Montanist Inscriptions, 78–79. Tabbernee has discussed the possibility that this
may symbolize the Eucharistic offering, a motif generally indicating Christianity, but it
may also indicate some Eucharistic function on the part of the deceased.
208 chapter 5
third, and fourth centuries. Each stele is decorated with a varied combination
of pilasters, lintels, pediments, and arcades with symbolic motifs carved in the
space created or opened at the centre of the structure. In essence, the arcades
and post and lintel structures form, not merely decorative niches, but door-
ways or passageways, common symbolic motifs for moving from one place to
the next, an appropriate decoration for stelae and sarcophagi associated with
stepping over the unknown threshold of death. Roman cultic funerary memo-
rials focused on appeasing the souls of the deceased and were simultaneously
believed to protect the affairs of the living52 while providing a house or domus
in the form of a tomb for the deceased.53
It is no surprise that memorial epitaphs and iconography would feature the
best attributes of the deceased, literally those characteristics that could be car-
ried over or transferred into the next life. The marble funerary relief of Philista
(fig. 46), dated to the second century, from Smyrna (now Izmir), an ancient city
not far from the Phrygian region on the Aegean coast of Turkey, introduces us to
the visual vocabulary of each symbolic implement. An inscription from a simi-
lar grave stele, for Menophila from the second century bc in Smyrna, explicitly
spells out the meaning of the signs and symbols, each of which also resonated
with meaning for the late ancient world.
This gracious stone shows a fine woman. Who is she? The letters of the
Muses inform us: Menophila. Why then is this white lily and the “one”
(alpha) carved on the stele? Why the book, the wool basket, and the
wreath above? The book is for her intelligence. The wreath tells of her
public office (a priestess). The “one” tells us she is an only child. The basket
is a sign of her well-ordered virtue. The flower is for the bloom that a
daimon stole away. Lightly does the dust hover over a person like you,
though dead. But woe, without child are your parents, to whom you have
left tears.54
This epitaph leaves no doubt that symbols were deliberate memorializing

components in commemorating the dead. Death had a deep impact on family
52 Robert S.J. Garland and John Scheid, “Death, attitudes toward,” in The Oxford Companion
to Classical Civilization, ed. Simon Hornblower and Antony Spawforth (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1998), 209–210.
53 Andrew Wallace-Hadrill, “Housing the Dead: The Tomb as House in Roman Italy: Domus
ista, domus!” in Commemorating the Dead, ed. Laurie Brink and Deborah Green (New York:
Walter de Gruyter, 2008), 39.
54 Joan Breton Connelly, Portrait of a Priestess (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2007),
Plate 27.
memorial 209
figure 46
Funerary relief of Philista,
Ashmolean Museum, Oxford,
second century bc
© ashmolean museum,
university of oxford.
anmichaelis
groups. It was of primary importance that the character and status of the
deceased were preserved and promoted in ways that could be read and under-
stood by everyone. Those left behind were charged with honouring the dead,
and by association, were also affected by the public perception of their de-
ceased relatives.
210 chapter 5
6 Conclusions
It is my view that the earliest artistic evidence associated with death and burial
are clear indicators of a widespread Christian fascination with the matronly
model of Mary, with the powerful symbols of female virtue, and with attracting
the benevolent gaze of a Christian God in order to secure divine benevolence
in the afterlife. Women chose spinning motifs specifically on objects that com-
memorate them throughout time. They chose to see Mary as a woman doing
the work of her household. They chose themselves to be remembered as vir-
tuous women. They chose to be buried under the most powerful symbols of
female influence. In the case of women choosing their own funerary epitaph,
grave markers, and burial clothes, as might occur with an elderly or sickly indi-
vidual, the scene of the Virgin Annunciate spinning is particularly poignant.
If the ultimate decisions regarding such items were left up to family members
or friends, it also makes sense that this scene would be chosen to demonstrate
both the real and purported character of the deceased.55
The spinning Annunciate image is the best example of an internalized kind
of sacred conversation and the kind of holy interaction offered to the Vir-
gin Mary as she spun and received the announcement of the Angel Gabriel.
Correspondingly, women had access to holiness in their own right as wives,
mothers, and virtuous women of God, without being part of the imperial
elite or the ascetically austere. The spindle and distaff were not reducible to
ascetic chastity and its inaccessible holiness; they were reserved for the capa-
ble matron. Objects of memorial demonstrate the popularity of this image
as it appears repeatedly and was clearly established before official Ortho-
dox dogma regarding Mary was established. In an effort to administer, deter-
mine, and monitor doctrine regarding the nature of Christ and his mother,
the Church would, in years to come, codify and limit the boundaries of their
very bodies. Christian funerary stelae and epitaphs from the Phrygian region
of Anatolia attest to the strength, popularity, and dominance of the spin-
dle and distaff in commemorating deceased female Christians. These memo-
rial objects and images are refreshingly illuminating as they point to Mar-
ian cult activity, ritual, imitation, and admiration prior to the official state-
ments on doctrine and heresy at Ephesus and Chalcedon. Overall, sarcophagi,
stelae, and epitaphs are commemorative monuments to lives lived in hope
55 Cf. Harriet I. Flower, Ancestor Masks and Aristocratic Power in Roman Culture (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1996), 59.
memorial 211
of Christian salvation. They were considered appropriate and fitting memo-

rials for the eternity of Paradise,56 reflecting the inclusive splendour of the
Christian afterlife.

conclusion
The Virgin Annunciate Spinning: A Matronly

Model, “In Whom All Opposites are Reconciled”1
The purpose of this study is to establish the ancient sources associated with
birth, marriage, householding, and death by which Mary, as the Virgin Annun-
ciate, became a model of matronly virtue for Christian women during late
antiquity. This work encompasses the study of individual works of art, their
iconography, literary texts contemporary to the objects, and evidence for the
Mariological cult activity that marked the earliest days of Christianity. This
study contextualises these elements into a study that reveals how late antique
interests moved beyond mere veneration to the imitation of the Marian model,
particularly in the ordinary roles of women, wives, and mothers. By following
the matronly model of Mary, women accessed holiness in ways that were not
prescribed by ascetic renunciation or codified by theology. Until now, the inter-
pretation of the matronly model has been ignored as simply too ordinary, too
mundane, and too invisible.
This new iconographic reading helps provide a vital part of what Averil
Cameron has called “the capaciousness of the Theotokos,”2 and seeks to em-
bolden the notion that strength, righteousness, industriousness, fertility, abun-
dance, and influence were generally accepted attributes of female holiness.
This work studies the capacities for viewership as a response to the spinning
Annunciate iconography and identified a seeming gap in scholarship concern-
ing the realia of early Christian life and the eventual codification of images
by Church patronage. Attempts to fill this void arose out of a desire, not to
diminish Mary’s role, but to illuminate knowledge and power of its prevalence
amongst the earliest lay Christians. The long-held fascination by which this
argument developed came from the necessity to give voice to those who under-
stood Mary as both ordinary virtuous woman and as Mother of God, and the
fact that the two need not contradict each other.
1 An epithet of Mary from the Akathistos Hymn, Ikos 15. Cf. Leena Mari Peltomaa, “Epithets
of the Theotokos in the Akathistos Hymn,” in The Cult of the Mother of God in Byzantium, ed.
Leslie Brubaker and Mary Cunningham (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2011), 109–116.
2 Averil Cameron, “The Cult of the Virgin in Late Antiquity: Religious Development and Myth-
making,” in The Church and Mary, ed. Robert N. Swanson (Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer,
2006), 1–21.

the virgin annunciate spinning 213
Examining Mary as the spinning Annunciate has many implications for art
history and other interdisciplinary studies.3 This topic has been examined in
limited ways until now, and there is, as there always has been, space for an in-
depth and detailed look at this iconography in late antiquity and early Byzan-
tium. This book has limited its scope to pre-iconoclast art and small, domes-
tic objects, and their iconography. Yet one important set of images remain to
be discussed, the triumphal arch mosaics of Santa Maria Maggiore. As other
sources present in-depth studies of these images, I only present the details rel-
evant to the point that the mosaics are in a very different class than the objects
of this study. The mosaics were officially commissioned representations that
closely aligned with Church dogma and were, in many ways, removed from the
viewer, symbolically and physically, in order to mark the official appropriation
of the Virgin by the Church.
1 Santa Maria Maggiore
If the fourth century was the battleground over the Christian imagination and
establishing Christ as the God of the Empire,4 then the fifth century became the
strategic moment for deciding how the image of Mary, as the Mother of God,
would be depicted. The period of the late fourth and early fifth century offered
a unique opportunity for Christians to showcase their sense of identity in the
visual arena. It becomes increasingly clear that female imagery sent specific
messages about who Christians were and how they were perceived within a
larger social context.5 The Council of Ephesus in 431 was convened primarily
to determine the doctrine concerning Christ’s nature and ended by formally
codifing orthodox belief over the heretical Nestorians. Naturally, the role of
Mary was the pivotal point in the argument proclaiming her Theotokos.
3 Averil Cameron, “Introduction,” in The Cult of the Mother of God in Byzantium, ed. Leslie
Brubaker and Mary Cunningham (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2011), 1–5.
4 Thomas F. Mathews, The Clash of the Gods: A Reinterpretation of Early Christian Art (Prince-
ton: Princeton University Press, 1993).
5 MacDonald, Early Christian, 126. MacDonald points to the pagan opinion emphasized by
Celsus that female behaviour was dangerous to society and reflected the subversive nature
of the larger Christian group. According to MacDonald, Celsus focuses on women to “draw
attention to the essence of a group where power is exercised in dangerous, illegitimate ways,
where norms of household are subverted, where traditional male control of house and school
is compromised, where the public practices of religion are ignored in favour of a god who is
worshipped in private, and where the only wisdom comes from magical lore.”
214 conclusion
For as much as continuity of image and symbol seems evident within late
antique religious history, the Theotokos as a new brand of doctrine absolutely
altered the theological model of Mary within the Church and society. I have
argued that devotion to and imitation of Mary were likely part of the pre-
Council psyche within the Church and were undoubtedly present in the prac-
tices of believers.6 The title of Theotokos designated the Virgin Mary as the
Mother of God, a mortal woman who was reverenced in her own right, but
was now elevated beyond the reach of ordinary women. Mary’s mortality, her
spinning task, her motherhood, and her grace were tangible elements within
the newest Christian societies clamouring for ties to bind them to social sta-
bility and spiritual salvation. Following the Council of Ephesus she became
ethereal, semi-divine, and separate from the familiar household. This book is in
agreement with Peter Brown’s opinion that the rise of the cult of the Virgin and
the saints was a “lurching forward of an increasing proportion of late-antique
society toward radically new forms of reverence, shown to new objects in new
places, orchestrated by new leaders, and deriving its momentum from the need
to play out the common preoccupation … with new forms of the exercise of
power, new bonds of human dependence, new, intimate hopes for protection
and justice in a changing world.”7 Moreover, I have argued that the cult of Mary
first developed outside of the formal liturgical world, in the art, imagination,
and devotion of ordinary women who desired the power of holiness in their
daily lives.
The triumphal arch found at the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore contains
the oldest narrative mosaic sequence of its kind, publically depicting scenes
from the early life of Christ. The first scene in the sequence is the Annunciation
(fig. 47), which has been detailed numerous times as borrowing from the
imperial court style of the fifth century, “thus the clothing of the titled ‘most
splendid woman’ for Mary … and certainly the throne with footstool on which
the infant Jesus is seated in the Adoration of the Magi is the imperial seat
of official ceremony.”8 Popes Sixtus iii and Leo i were ultra conscious of the
6 Kate Cooper has provided ample evidence toward this end. Cf. Cooper, “Contesting the Nativ-
ity,” 31–43. Cooper has convincingly concluded that, “Mariology developed from a grounding
in both tradition and lay piety,” thus accounting for the deep and popular roots of the cult of
the Virgin embraced by virgins and married householders alike.
7 Peter Brown, The Cult of the Saints (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1981), 22.
8 Victor Saxer, Sainte Marie Majeure (Rome: École Française de Rome, 2001), 49. Author’s
translation: “ainsi le vêtement de clarissima femina pour Marie … mais surtout le trône à
escabeau, sur lequel est assis l’ Enfant Jesus dans l’ Adoration des mages et qui est le siége
imperial des cérémonies officielles.”
need to bind Christian iconography to the power of Roman virtue; certainly,

their influences in building and choosing the decorative aspects of Santa Maria
Maggiore were affected by more than a single sermon or theological agenda.
I suggest that in determining the decorative themes and types included in
the arch cycle, the communicative power of the visual image was seriously
considered. The primary location of the Virgin Annunciate on the triumphal
arch of the basilica presented viewers with an authorative symbol of female
seemliness that celebrated the Theotokos in the eternal city, and resonated with
viewers sympathetic to models of female holiness that mirrored the sermons
and rhetoric they heard within the Church. In fact, the details of the mosaics are
incredibly difficult to read from the vantage point of the congregant in the nave
and would have required prior understanding of the Marian and Christological
cycle in general and were especially prone to specific interpretation by Church
Fathers.9
The nave arch depicts the Annunciation with the Virgin Mary seated on a
cushioned chair, her feet on a footstool. She is wearing a simple diadem with
three jewels set above a thin gold band with one jewel below. She wears a golden
trabea over a white woollen tunic, which is sumptuous, but not necessarily
imperial. Her attire is gathered at her waist by a belt that designated her rank or
status within late antiquity,10 but could just as easily have been an ornamental
feature of simply arranging the tunic at the waist.11 The Theotokos pulls a thick
rove of scarlet wool across her lap from the large basket next to her. Three
angels, including Gabriel, flank Mary, while three more appear to be gazing out
at the viewer, addressing Joseph, and flying overhead. The Dove of the Holy
9 For further discussion of the iconographic possibilities not discussed here see Grabar,
Christian Iconography, 45–49, 80, 114–118, 139–142.
10 Maria Parani, “Defining Personal Space: Dress and Accessories in Late Antiquity,” in
L. Lavan, E. Swift, and T. Putzeys, eds., Objects in Context, Objects in Use (Late Antique
Archaeology 5; Leiden: Brill, 2007), 504, 520. Parani points out, “the phrases ‘to put on the
belt’ or ‘to put the belt aside’ were commonly used in late antique sources to describe the
assumption or surrender of office respectively.” However, these terms were traditionally
used about men and their official status, and not for women. Interestingly, we find, in the
sixth century image of Anicia Juliana from the Vienna Dioscurides, folio 6v, several official
Imperial insignia such as the golden palla, a full purple stola, scarlet veil, scarlet shoes
along with a large buckled belt to gather her attire at her waist. The Virgin Annunciate at
Santa Maria Maggiore is missing all of these accoutrements including the scarlet shoes,
with the exception of the distinctive belt.
11 Note that the trabea and clavi are traditional dress for aristocratic women in Rome before
and leading up to the fifth century as documented in many catacomb paintings. This topic
is, again, material that I have studied and choose to reserve for further work.
216 conclusion
figure 47 Annunciation mosaic detail, Santa Maria Maggiore, Rome, 432–440ad
Ghost is present in the heavens and a temple-like structure with closed doors
and a draped veil, possibly the house of the Virgin, is at the left.
The Virgin Annunciate spinning in Santa Maria Maggiore helped to con-
struct an identity and perception of Christian Rome that was meant to bol-
ster the city against exterior physical, social, and most importantly, spiritual
threats. Reverence toward Mary was directed by the devotee’s belief that she
was committed to aiding in the fortunes of salvation, that she could empathize
with their plight of illness, infertility, or spiritual deficits, and most importantly
that she was familiar with their mortal station and daily challenges. It is fitting
that Santa Maria Maggiore was the first and most prominent structure in all of
Christendom to exhibit the image of the Virgin as the model for Christian recti-
tude accessible to all the household of believers, and further analysis is a matter
for future study. It is also necessary to advance with caution when assigning
the popularity of this image exclusively to the dogma of the Incarnation.12
12 Maria Evangelatou, “The Purple Thread of the Flesh: The Theological Connotations of a
Narrative Iconographic Element in Byzantine Images of the Annunciation,” in Icon and
This interpretation, as used by Maria Evangelatou, may be arguable for middle

or late Byzantine images that accompanied texts lauding the Incarnation, for
example the manuscript of James Kokkinobaphos, but to claim that formalized
dogma provided for the popularity of the earliest Annunciate images is to reject
the historical premises of Mariology.
Later Annunciation images will feature Mary as the detached Queen of
Heaven, rather than a traditional matron; the detailed domestic setting, with
spindle, distaff, wool basket, and wool roves are replaced with a golden other-
worldly background and simplified tools; Mary’s traditional stola and palla are
replaced by the Virgin’s gold spangled blue mantle and imperially red Byzan-
tine shoes. Finally, the setting of the visual representation will move from small,
domestic personal objects or privately commissioned memorial images to offi-
cially sanctioned church mosaics, icons and frescoes. In the years following
the Council of Chalcedon, images of the Virgin, including spinning Annunciate
images, lost much of the domestic charm and detail derived from the everyday
observations of localized artists or the personal preferences of early Christian
patrons. Just as family life was disrupted, distorted, and deemed deficient by
encroaching asceticism, the earliest iconography of the Virgin Annunciate is
modified and removed from the quaint familiarity of domestic life and replaced
by the unattainable Virgin, Theotokos, inhabiting a heavenly sphere; a place
quantified, qualified, and codified by official Church doctrine. Essentially, these
small changes in iconography shift the viewer’s perception, so as, in my opin-
ion, to twist and alter Mary’s image in a way that causes fundamental doctrinal
ambiguity in and after the sixth century.
2 Final Thoughts
Mary is readily associated in formal texts and scholarly literature with the
immaculate and perpetual Virgin and, after 431, with the title of Theotokos. Yet
within the broader context of the fifth century, perceptions of Mary embraced
more than the static Virginal type and were widely popular beyond the ever-
Word: The Power of Images in Byzantium. Studies Presented to Robin Cormack, ed. Antony
Eastmond and Liz James (Aldershot, Hampshire: Ashgate Publishing Ltd., 2003), 261–
279. Evangelatou argues, “that a significant reason for the popularity of this iconographic
detail (spinning the purple thread for the Temple veil) was its symbolic reference to the
Incarnation of the Logos—the main event of the Annunciation, the central dogma of the
Christian Church and the base of the economy of Salvation,” 261.
218 conclusion
increasing codification of her liturgical role in the Church. To continue gaz-

ing only through this long-established lens is to engage in an oversimplifica-
tion of early Marian influence, and encourages interpreting the conventional
behaviours of Christian women as inconsequential.
Early images of the Virgin Annunciate examined here do not conform to the
imperial standard of the fifth century, nor do they present Mary as a virginal
ascetic. Early imitation of the Virgin did not necessarily mean throwing off
familial ties or taking ascetic vows; instead imitation was held up within images
and many patristic texts as the ideal model for both virginal and married life.
As the precedents for the Christian imagery of the Virgin spinning have shown,
this specific iconography was inseparably tied to spiritual fortitude, industry,
pudicitia, fertility, and marriagabilty. The Fathers of the Church also understood
this ideology, although it was manipulated by some and called scandalous by
others.13 These arguments serve as cases in point; to associate spinning with
ascetic virginity was anathema to its original prototype, a type that was easily
accessible to women from all social milieux.
This study incorporates the interactions of Christian women with the art
of the Annunciation in a way that imitates an average and ordinary life cycle.
Of course, there were innumerable exceptions and variations to a typical life
cycle, but most women were familiar with the stages of life from birth to youth,
to marriage, family life, aging, and death. This arc takes in and considers the
scope of female life and experience in the analysis of art objects like catacomb
paintings, pilgrim tokens, jewellery, marriage rings, pyxis jars, sarcophagi, and
textiles, objects encountered, in many cases, on a daily basis. The image of
the spinning Annunciate, depicted on a significant number of extant objects,
attests to its pervasive, quotidian, and familiar nature. It is significant that of
the known iconographic programs established in earliest Christianity, this one
has stood the test of time and should be recognized for its merit and resonant
meaning.
Imperial Rome provided Christianity with a ready-made and standardized
iconography representative of civic virtue and idealized roles. Mary, shown
engaged in spinning the veil for the temple, was a model of female behaviour
that was neither unusual nor associated with restrictive ascetic interpretation.
It is easy to see how women acting as wealthy patrons, benefactors, ascetic
holy women, or martyrs figured in exemplary roles, yet I suggest that married
Christian women, matrons who followed conventional behaviour by raising
children and managing households, also figured prominently in exemplary

Christian iconography. After all, it is this specific group of women who partic-
ipated in household textile production first-hand, had a close affinity for the
role of motherhood exemplified by the Virgin, and maintained the sanctity and
“seemliness of the corporate Christian identity.”14
Christian iconographic language used the spindle and distaff as important
symbols of meaning and interpretation in late antiquity. Ancient symbols, sto-
ries, and icons were useful “for the Christian image-maker of late antiquity,
and for his successors,” because they “opened the door to a prodigious enrich-
ment of his vocabulary of iconographic terms. It gave him new opportunities of
demonstrating the Christian truth in iconographic language.”15 Meaning could
be shifted and directed from the very imaginative to the exact or specific, or
both at once.16 Christian iconography is, in general, greatly profited by the rich
visual language that antedated it. Spinning iconography associated with Mary
specifically benefitted, not merely from the association with traditions of illus-
trious goddesses, but from the stature of good women, ordinary women, who
in their households successfully accomplished the task of leading holy lives.
Far from being insignificant in the development of early Church history,
Mary featured significantly as a symbol of legitimacy for early Christian devo-
tion. Art historians have long championed the role of Mary “both as a model
for ascetic virginity and as the instrument which made possible the incarna-
tion of divinity in human form,”17 yet have largely ignored her maternal role
as a model for married and marriageable women within popular Christian-
ity. This study has challenged these assumptions and presented evidence for
a more contiguous artistic, historical, and theological interpretation. The ear-
liest spinning Annunciate iconography depicts Mary in a guise sympathetic to
the dignified Christian matron, capable and virtuous in her example, symboli-
cally and practically incorporating social and spiritual legitimacy within a new
and distinct Christian identity.

15 Grabar, Christian Iconography, 145–146.
16 Grabar, Christian Iconography, 146.
17 John Osborne, “Images of the Mother of God in Early Medieval Rome,” in Icon and
Word: The Power of Images in Byzantium, ed. Antony Eastmond and Liz James (Aldershot:
Ashgate, 2003), 135.
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Index
Abegg-Stiftung Mary Silk 159, 160, 161, 164, Celantia 88

165, 166, 167, 168, 170 Celibacy 7, 12, 66, 79, 84, 85n79, 89, 113, 116,
Asceticism 1, 2, 7, 9, 11, 12, 33, 44, 62, 65, 66, 140
73, 75, 76, 77, 79, 80, 81, 83, 84, 85, 87, Children 2n3, 24n23, 46, 49, 51, 75, 76, 83, 85,
88, 89, 90, 91, 93, 94, 95, 96, 98, 101, 86, 103, 112, 113, 124, 125, 126, 127, 127n59,
128, 129, 130, 131, 132, 134, 137, 138, 140, 128n64, 136, 140, 141, 147, 154, 206, 207,
151, 158, 180, 181, 202, 210, 212, 217, 218, 218
219 Christianity
Ascetic sexual denial 2, 51, 73, 76 Apollinarians 12
Acts of Paul and Thecla 73, 78, 224 Arian 11, 69
Agnes 73 Docetists 12
Adam 54, 92 Donatists 12
Adoration of the Magi 65, 108, 109, 118, 160, Monophysites 12, 66, 149, 151
184, 186, 193, 214 superstition of 12, 13, 61, 125, 126, 157
Ambrose 11, 12, 69, 73, 83, 133 Church canons 2n3, 12, 116, 117, 120, 122, 123,
De institutione virginis 11, 69, 73, 83 124, 159, 201
Ambrosian rite 201 Chastity 1, 21, 44, 46, 46n78, 48, 58, 77, 78, 99,
Ammianus Marcellinus 158 102, 210
Ampullae 108, 144, 145 (fig. 23) Church of the Annunciation 147
Amulets 7, 103, 105, 108, 115, 116, 117, 118, 120, Church of the Nativity 147
124 Church of the Holy Sepulchre 147
magical properties of 59, 104, 117, 172 Childbirth (parturition) 29, 33, 40, 51, 104,
Anicia Juliana 134, 137, 138, 215n10 105, 122, 124, 125, 126, 147
Apocrypha 3, 4, 10, 19, 39, 54, 63, 65, 72, 73, Cloth production 15, 26, 36, 37, 47, 49, 50, 56,
74, 76, 77, 78, 120, 166, 187 72, 82, 91, 95
Apocryphal Acts of the Apostles 76, 77 silk production 100, 141, 157, 162, 172
Apotropaic properties 50, 59, 107, 116, 118, Council of Elvira 116
120, 180n123 Council of Ephesus 11, 17n10, 64, 66, 67,
Atticus of Constantinople 90, 91, 93n107 69, 80, 86, 92, 94, 136, 137, 150, 151, 159,
Augustine 43, 44, 45n74, 61, 79, 80, 87n86, 179n120, 201, 210, 213, 214
158 Council of Laodicea 116, 120, 123n46
Council of Nicaea 10, 11
Basil of Caesarea 101 Council in Trullo 122
Biblical iconography Cult of Mary 3–4, 10, 12, 15, 16, 61, 62, 63, 65,
Daniel 54, 58n114, 202 93, 101, 130, 136, 150, 210, 212, 214
Jonah cycle 17, 54, 58n114 Cultural influences
raising of Lazarus 17, 202 Hellenic 33, 53, 66, 78, 91, 148, 162
three Hebrews 185, 186 Jewish 1, 3, 6, 10, 53, 55, 56, 59, 85, 148,
Bride 47–49, 51, 111n20, 115, 122, 201 154, 184
pagan 6, 10, 14, 22, 23, 26, 33, 37, 39,
Catacombs of Domitilla 184–187 49n89, 59, 66, 83, 85, 91, 105, 112, 116,
Catacombs of Peter and Marcellinus 117, 123, 124, 126, 127, 129, 139, 157, 158,
186 159, 160, 166, 167, 168, 169, 179, 184, 187,
Catacombs of Priscilla 14, 17, 18, 19, 20, 213n5
182–184, 187 Syriac 5, 96, 97, 98
Greek chapel 18, 183 Cyril of Alexandria 66
236 index
Cyril of Jerusalem 97 103, 104, 117, 126, 128, 131, 132, 134, 136,
Cyril of Skythopolis 75 138, 157, 188, 218
Fates/parcae 7n14, 22, 24 fig. 5, 27, 28, 29, 30,
Decimus Magnus Ausonius 102, 128 31, 32, 43, 82
Distaff 1, 5, 6, 14, 15, 19, 20, 22, 23, 26, 31n42, Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos 22, 28, 30, 32
32, 33, 35, 37, 39, 41, 42, 43, 47, 48, 50, 51, Femininity, ideal of 11, 21, 46, 52, 133, 157, 188,
52, 56, 58, 59, 67, 69, 70, 72, 89, 93, 95, 199, 201, 218
96, 101, 102, 105, 107, 112, 115, 128, 130, 145, Fertility 26, 32, 39, 47n83, 48, 50, 58, 59, 64,
146, 149, 163, 170, 171, 176, 178, 180, 182, 91, 103, 104, 105, 107, 115, 116, 117, 118, 120,
183, 184, 187, 195, 204, 205, 206, 207, 210, 126, 127n59, 128, 129, 131, 135, 147, 148, 149,
217, 219 158, 154, 157, 166, 167, 179, 200, 212, 218
Divorce 113, 114 Flamen Dialis 50
Doe 189, 194, 195, 198, 203 Flamenica Dialis 50
Flax 26, 54, 56, 75, 162, 170, 176n115
Egeria 142 Flight into Egypt 65, 122
Egypt 5, 7, 14, 25, 26, 27, 40, 65, 66, 67, 72, 75, Funerary Relief of Ulpia Epigone 21, 22,
76, 101, 114, 117, 119, 143, 146, 148, 156, 157, 22n20
159, 160, 162, 167, 168, 169, 170, 172, 173,
175, 176n115, 178, 201 Gabriel 3, 19, 62, 63, 67, 71, 72, 97, 98, 99, 106,
Elizabeth 63, 69, 82n68, 176, 186, 200 107, 109, 110, 120, 145, 146, 151, 154, 165,
Emperor 171, 176, 187, 195, 196, 197, 200, 204, 210,
Arcadius 136 215
Augustus 30, 44, 45, 46, 47, 52, 126 Gems/glypts 131, 151, 152 fig. 24, 153 fig. 25
Constantine 113n26, 116, 126, 128n64, 133, Goddesses
134, 136, 142, 147 Egypt
Constantius ii 70 Isis 27, 66, 157
Justinian 85, 100, 113, 126n57, 138 Tait or Tayet 26, 27, 168, 172
Majorian 84 Greek/Roman
Theodosius i 133, 135, 136 Athena/Minerva 24n23, 27, 33, 34, 35,
Theodosius ii 90n98, 111n19, 137, 138 36, 43
Valentinian 135 Ananke 28
Valentinian iii 135 Aphrodite-Ariadne 32, 33, 164
Empresses Mesopotamia
Athenais Eudocia 134, 137 Uttu 26
Eudoxia 111n19, 134, 136, 137 Asherah 26, 27
Flavia Flacilla 135, 136, 137 Gorgonia 203
Galla Placidia 134, 135 Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew 64
Helena 133, 134, 142, 147 Greco-Roman imagery 9, 27–45
Livia Drusilla 46, 47, 52 Gregory of Nyssa 12, 74, 77, 135
Pulcheria 90n98, 91, 93, 93n108, 94, 95, Gregory Nazianzus 12, 74, 83, 203
96, 111n19, 114n31, 134, 136, 137, 138 Gregory the Great 114
Ephrem the Syrian 97, 98
Epiphanius of Salamis 69 Helvidius 87
Epitaphs 22, 52, 63, 109n15, 155, 203, 205, Hart/stag 194, 195, 198, 203
206, 208, 210 Holiness 7, 14, 16, 58, 73, 75, 81, 82, 84, 85, 87,
Eve 10, 54, 66, 74, 133 89, 93, 94, 98, 131, 150n65, 155, 178, 181,
201, 210, 212, 214, 215
Familial relationships 1, 7, 20, 22, 40, 46, 47, Holy Spirit 82, 165
51, 52, 62, 77, 78, 79, 83, 85, 88, 95, 101, as weaver 92
index 237
Homer 28, 39, 40, 43 Lamb of God 69, 179, 180

Arete 24, 39, 43 Lay devotion 3, 4, 6, 9, 10, 67, 68, 70, 87, 88,
Helen 24, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 59 112, 122, 123, 124, 136, 159, 179, 188, 198,
Illiad 28, 30, 40 202, 212, 214n6
Odyssey 28, 39n59, 40, 43 Liber ad Gregorium in Palatio 79, 88
Penelope 24, 39, 40, 42, 43 Legislation
Household Augustan penalties 113
economy of 26, 54, 55, 57, 95, 115, 128, 154, Corpus Juris Civilis 113
188, 203 inheritance 77, 79, 104, 113, 114, 127, 139,
housekeeping 48, 98, 99, 130 154n73
management of (oikonomia) 5, 6, 7, legal rights 112, 114, 126, 127
13, 26, 35, 36, 39, 46, 49, 51, 52, 54, 55, ius liberorum 126, 129
56, 59, 61, 62, 66, 79, 83, 84, 85, 88, 89, marriage law 77, 81, 85, 86, 113, 116, 127,
91, 94, 98, 101, 103, 105n11, 112, 114, 115, 128n64
116, 128, 129, 130, 140, 141, 153, 154, 155, Theodosian Code 126
157, 159, 164, 166, 174, 178, 201, 204, 210, Life of Eugenia 73
213n5 Linen 4, 6, 27, 28, 54, 57, 58, 69, 125, 131, 138,
Hippolytus of Rome 82, 83 156, 157, 162, 163, 168, 169, 170, 172, 173,
History of the Monks 148 175, 179n120
Liturgy 99, 115
Icons 65, 151, 217, 219 agapai or love feasts 116, 116n35, 123
Iconography calendar 112
apocalyptic 189, 199, 200, 202 feasts 69, 88, 92, 95, 116, 123
Dionysiac 160, 164, 165, 167, 168 Mass of the Annunciation 201
Holy Rider 108n14, 117, 141 Loca sancta images 105
Imitatio Mariae 6, 7, 61, 62, 90, 94, 96, 131, Loom 27, 40, 41, 42, 45, 46n78, 47, 49, 51, 52,
199, 204, 210, 212, 214, 218 56, 69, 73, 89, 90—93, 95
Incarnation 5, 58, 59, 70, 88, 90, 92, 97, 131, Lucretia 43, 44, 45, 46
183, 197, 199, 201, 202, 204, 216, 217,
217n12 Macrina 76, 77
Marriage 2n3, 7, 11, 15, 26, 42, 44, 47, 48, 50,
Jacob of Serug 98 52, 59, 64, 66, 73, 74, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82,
Jerome 11, 43, 79, 83, 87, 88 85, 86, 87, 104, 105, 106, 112, 113, 114, 115,
Jesus Christ 62, 109, 155, 166, 168, 186, 197, 116, 117, 118, 119, 120, 126, 127, 128, 134, 151,
198, 214 155, 201, 202, 212, 218
as weaver 92, 95 sacrament of 86, 87n86
Jewellery (see also marriage rings) 52, 71, Marriage rings 9, 103, 104, 105, 105n10, 107,
103n3, 106, 111n19, 114, 118, 119, 120, 122, 108, 109, 110, 111, 112, 114, 115, 118n39, 120,
218 122, 128, 129, 184, 186, 218
medallions 50, 118, 119, 120, 122, 124, 200 Materfamilias 15, 20, 22, 42, 51, 52, 54, 63, 64,
pendants 7, 21, 103, 118, 119 fig. 19, 120, 121 76, 181
fig. 20, 122, 128 Mary
John Chrysostom 90, 95, 158 folk traditions about 3, 63
Joseph the Carpenter 82, 87, 165, 168n107, lay devotion 3–4, 10, 12, 15, 16, 62, 63, 65,
201, 216 93, 101, 130, 136, 150, 210, 212, 214
Jovinian 79, 87, 88 maternity of 3, 10, 81, 123, 124
Julia Dryadia 128, 129 Queen of Heaven 188, 217
Juvenal 42 Mary Magdalene 189, 197, 198
Justin Martyr 85 Mary of Egypt 76
238 index
Mariology 63, 81, 91, 95, 214n6, 217 guilds 100, 139
Marriage at Cana 118, 120 imperial women 132–137
Matron 2, 3, 5, 13, 20, 21, 22, 25, 30, 31, 34, 35, Paul 85, 86, 158, 194
37, 38, 41, 42, 43, 44, 46, 47, 49, 50, 51, 52, Pelagius 79, 88
54, 56, 59, 60, 63, 70, 75, 84, 87, 88, 89, Perpetua 73
90, 99, 101, 102, 103, 112, 127, 129, 131, 133, Peter 194
134, 180, 181, 183, 184, 187n11, 188, 199, 210, Peter Chrysologus 201, 202
212, 217, 218, 219 Phrygian tombstones 182, 206, 207, 208, 210
Matronage 1, 6, 9, 13, 16, 65, 83, 86, 89, 202 Aurelios Markeinanos 206
Melania the Younger 76, 77, 137, 148 Aurelia Appes 207
Melania the Elder 76 Aurelia Apphion 207
Midwives 56, 125 Christians for a Christian 205–207
Montanist 205–208 Eutyches 206
Motherhood 11, 37, 64, 73, 74, 80, 81n64, 82, Markia 207
87, 103, 120, 127, 134, 149, 151, 155, 179, Tombstone for Ammia, Tatia, and
200, 214, 219 unnamed 206
Mother goddess/Magna Mater 16, 26, 26n27, Tombstone for Aurelia Domna and
66, 69, 187n11, 187, 196, 199 Onesime 207
Muse Casket 49, 49n89, 50 Tombstone of Loukios and Tatia 207
Muses 49, 50, 208 Tombstone of Kyrillos, Domna, and
Mythology Kyriakos 207
Achilles 30, 31, 32 Trophimos 207
Apollo 37, 39, 168 wreath with cross 205, 206, 206n49, 207,
Arachne 35 208
Artemis 37, 40, 41 Piety/pietas 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 9, 12, 35, 45, 47, 52,
Dionysos 157, 164 59, 62, 65n15, 67, 69, 77, 81n64, 83, 87,
Hector 30 89, 94n111, 98, 101, 103, 109n15, 130, 133,
King Priam 30 134, 135, 137, 138, 180, 182, 188, 196, 203,
Leto of the Golden Spindle 20, 37, 38 204, 214n6
Osiris, resurrection of 27, 157 Pignatta Sarcophagus 182, 189–194, 196, 197,
Philoctetes 30 198, 200, 201, 202, 203, 204, 205, 206
Thetis and Peleus 30, 31, 32 Pilgrimage 6, 105, 111n19, 117, 137, 141, 142,
Narrative sequencing 64, 110, 159, 214 146, 147, 148n58, 149, 149n65, 150, 151,
Nativity of Jesus 65, 88, 89, 92, 108, 109, 154
117, 118, 122, 123, 165, 170, 173 eulogia 111n19, 117, 142, 146, 147, 148
Nestorius of Constantinople 17n10, 66, 92, miracle working images 149
94, 95, 137 tokens 9, 115, 131, 141, 142, 143, 144, 145,
146, 147, 148, 149, 151, 154, 155, 200, 218
Origen 81, 82, 140, 141, 151 Pneuma 29, 30
Pope Leo i 214
Paideia 13 Pope Sixtus iii 214
Palmyrene busts 52, 53 Potamius of Lisbon 69, 70
Aqmat 52 Praxedes and Pudentiana 29
Tamma 52, 53 Proclus of Constantinople 89, 90, 91, 92, 93,
Panopolis 33, 157, 159, 160, 161, 162, 164, 167, 94, 95, 96, 179
168, 169, 170, 172, 178 Projecta Casket 50
Parenting 81, 85, 127 Protevangelium of James 3, 4, 19, 58, 76
Patronage 5, 8, 17, 27, 33, 111n20, 131–134, 137– Pseudo-Chrysostom 200
141, 155, 156, 162, 181, 198, 205, 206, 212 Pyxis/pyxides 71, 72, 73, 218
index 239
Quintilian 51 Symeon Stylites 147, 148

Syncretism 159, 162, 167, 179
Ravenna 5, 71, 135, 136, 182, 188, 192, 193, 199, Synod of Milan 87
200, 201, 202, 203
Realia 3, 8, 9, 26, 59, 62, 65, 72, 96, 97, 101, Tabernacle 57, 58
130, 146, 154, 177, 212 Tertullian 44, 81, 83, 87, 125
Regina, freed woman 20, 23, 25 Textiles
Resurrection 82, 157, 180, 189, 195, 197, 198, Coptic 7, 156n78, 160, 162, 163, 166, 174,
204 178, 179
Rituals 3, 31, 47, 48, 49n89, 50, 59, 68, 69, 99, embroidery 7, 30n41, 94, 160, 163, 170, 173,
103, 105n11, 113, 115, 116, 122, 123, 168, 182, 175, 176
210 resist-dyed linen 170, 171
Rome roundels 173, 174, 175, 176, 177
Forum Transitorium 24n23, 33, 34, 35, 36, tapestry bands 163, 173, 175
37 workshops 49, 163, 177
Visigothic sack of 45 Tombstone of Philista 208, 209 fig. 46
Roman mores 13, 37, 52, 83, 91 Tombstone of Menophila 208, 209
Trees 49, 66n17, 92, 176
Salvific themes 17, 58n114, 82, 109n15, 149, cypress 198
180, 186, 189, 202, 203 date palm 192, 194, 198
Santa Maria Maggiore 5, 177, 213, 214, 215, 216 Theotokos 2, 10, 12, 17n10, 26, 64, 65, 66, 67,
mosaic 177, 213–216 90, 91, 93n108, 101, 137, 151, 159, 173, 201,
Scarlet and purple 3, 4, 5, 39, 57, 58, 64, 67, 212, 213, 214, 215, 217
154, 166, 176, 216
Sculpture 22, 52, 67 Ulpian 114
Seneca 48
Shenute the Archimandrite 157, 159 Veil of the temple 4, 5, 54, 64, 166, 169, 216,
Social status 13, 22, 52, 84, 112–115, 130, 132, 217n12, 218
139, 140, 157, 163, 188 Viewer response 14, 20, 61, 64, 100, 128, 131,
freed women 20, 22, 23, 114 133, 149, 152n71, 153, 154, 183, 184, 188,
noble women 114 212, 215
slaves 47, 62, 83, 100, 114 Virtue 1, 6, 13, 14, 15, 17n10, 20, 21–23, 27, 28,
Soranus of Ephesus 125 37, 41, 47, 52, 53, 54, 56, 58, 102, 103, 105,
Sozomen 90n98, 94 112, 128, 135, 171, 188, 199, 202, 206, 208,
Spindle 1, 5, 6, 14, 15, 20, 22, 23, 26, 31, 32, 33, 210, 212, 215, 218
35, 37, 39, 41, 42, 43, 47, 48, 50, 51, 52, 56, Virtues
58, 59, 67, 69, 70, 72, 89, 93, 95, 96, 101, castitas (chastity) 21, 45n74, 52
102, 105, 107, 112, 115, 128, 130, 145, 146, concordia 22, 47, 111n19
149, 163, 170, 171, 176, 178, 180, 182, 183, fidelity 21, 41, 44, 54, 59, 86, 115, 127
184, 187, 203, 205, 206, 207, 208, 210, 217, industry 1, 6, 21, 23, 26, 34, 35, 42, 47, 49,
219 51, 52, 54, 56, 57, 58, 59, 99, 101, 107, 131,
Spinning 171, 178, 203, 212, 218
motifs 2, 5, 9, 37, 44, 45, 51, 64, 67, 102, pietas 47, 203
103, 112, 115, 157, 163, 179, 206, 207, 208, pudicitia 17n10, 20, 45, 46, 51, 52, 58, 131,
210 196, 218
Spinning implements 14, 21, 47, 52, 59, 72, uenustas (charm) 21
90, 99, 101, 162, 163, 165, 187, 205 Visitation 65, 69, 109, 113, 122, 173, 174 fig. 32,
spinning bowl 72 175, 176, 186, 202, 204
whorl 28, 31n42, 72, 171
240 index
Woman Wisdom 26, 95 112, 115, 118, 125, 131, 138, 151, 162, 163, 173,
Women at sepulchre 105, 108, 117 180, 187, 215
Weaving 5, 23, 25, 26, 27, 34, 35, 36, 39, fillets 49, 125
40, 42, 43, 45, 46, 47, 48, 50, 51, 52, roves 19, 20, 47, 49, 52, 108, 109, 145, 146,
54, 69, 82, 90, 94, 96, 158, 162, 172, 149, 154, 195, 217
173 Wool basket 5, 20, 21, 30, 41, 50, 52, 67, 105,
Wisdom 27, 28, 35, 43, 57, 58, 92, 94, 95, 148, 106, 109, 115, 118, 120, 146, 149, 162, 163,
203, 213n5 165, 166, 168, 171, 172, 176, 177, 203, 206,
Womb 62, 90, 92, 93n107, 95, 96, 117n36, 118, 207, 208, 217
125, 201 Wool-working 4, 33, 35, 37, 48, 69, 70, 77, 89,
Wool 6, 22, 26, 29, 30, 31n42, 39, 40, 41, 43, 92, 100, 106, 122, 127, 128, 140, 141, 160,
46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 54, 56, 102, 105, 205

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Late Antique Images of the Virgin Annunciate Spinning

Texts and Studies

Ken Parry (Macquarie University)

Alessandro Bausi (University of Hamburg) – Monica Blanchard

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/tsec

Catherine Gines Taylor

The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available online at http://catalog.loc.gov

Copyright 2018 by Koninklijke Brill nv, Leiden, The Netherlands.

This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

Introduction. Preceding the Ascetic Type: Earliest Images of the Virgin

1 The Roots and Precedents: Lanam Fecit 14

7 Proclus and the Constantinopolitan Tradition of Imitatio Mariae 90

3 The Matron 102

4 The Household 130

5 Phrygian Tombstones 205

Conclusion. The Virgin Annunciate Spinning: A Matronly Model, “In

My fascination with the iconography of the Virgin Annunciate spinning was

of Priscilla in Rome, the Pontifical Commission for Sacred Archaeology, Dum-

1 Annunciation, Cubiculum p, Priscilla Catacombs, Rome, second century ad.

20 Annunciation pendant, Israel Antiquities Authority, Jerusalem, fifth or sixth

39 The Pignatta Sarcophagus, back corner, Ravenna, fourth century ad 192

Preceding the Ascetic Type: Earliest Images of the

For late antique Christians, Mary personified Christian matronage in accor-

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2018 | doi: 10.1163/9789004362703_002

The iconographic origins of the Virgin Annunciate spinning are consistent

1 The Protevangelium of James: A Contemporary Apocryphum

of family life. The symbolic function of Annunciate iconography establishes

it deliberate attention,”13 and developed an iconography that did not privi-

19 Anthony Cutler, “Realities, Realia, and Realism: An Introduction to the Symposium,”

32 Ambrose, De Institutiones virginis 5.35, ed. Gori, 2:136.

The Roots and Precedents: Lanam Fecit

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2018 | doi: 10.1163/9789004362703_003

chy.2 However, while spinning and cloth production could be as monotonous

1 Catacombs of Priscilla, Cubiculum p—the First Annunciation

Situated in an outlying aristocratic neighborhood of second-century Rome,

figure 1 Annunciation, Cubiculum p, Priscilla Catacombs, Rome, second century ad

figures 2 and 3 Annunciation details, Priscilla Catacombs, Rome, second century ad

Upon close inspection, I cautiously suggest that the Priscilla Catacomb

other Palmyrene memorials, which may indicate that Barates commissioned

figure 6 Tombstone for Regina, British Museum, London, second century ad

1.1 Ancient Goddesses from Eastern Mesopotamia and Egypt

26 McGuckin, “Early Cult,” 18.

Susan Ackerman has presented compelling evidence, including a large num-

1.2 Greek and Roman Goddesses

figure 7 Child’s sarcophagus, Vatican Museum, Rome, second century ad

40 Sebesta, “Weavers of Fate,” 5.

42 http://www.stoa.org/diotima/anthology/cat64.shtml (accessed August 10, 2010).

underscoring the bath imagery as opposed to the traditional account of Thetis

44 Michaelides, Cypriot Mosaics, 44.

2 Spinning and Roman Public Display: Minerva and Domitian’s

The discourse of domestic virtue is visually presented in the frieze of Domi-

46 Barber, Women’s Work, 239.

figure 9 Minerva, Forum Transitorium, Rome, late-first century ad

52 D’Ambra, Private Lives, 15.

mental public representation, the frieze of the Forum Transitorium effectively

figure 12 Corbridge Lanx, British Museum, London, fourth or fifth century ad

57 Thomas G. Elliott, “The Language of Constantine’s Propaganda,” Transactions of the Amer-

3.1 Helen of Troy

62 Homer, Odyssey 4.121–122.

No other lady in the world, no other mistress of a man’s household, is

67 Homer, Odyssey 7.71–81.

end by Augustine exemplify the continued patriarchal perception of dutiful

4 Spinning Iconography amongst Elites and Non-elites in Roman