Chen, Omitted Empresses. The (Non-) Role of Imperial Women in Tetrarchic Propaganda (2018)

Omitted Empresses: The (Non-)Role of Imperial Women in
Tetrarchic Propaganda
Anne Hunnell Chen
Journal of Late Antiquity, Volume 11, Number 1, Spring 2018, pp. 42-82 (Article)
Published by Johns Hopkins University Press

DOI: https://doi.org/10.1353/jla.2018.0012
For additional information about this article

https://muse.jhu.edu/article/704836
[ Access provided at 3 May 2022 10:41 GMT from Universiteitsbibliotheek SZ 115 (+1 other institution account) ]
Anne Hunnell Chen
Omitted Empresses:
The (Non-)Role of Imperial Women
in Tetrarchic Propaganda
Imperial women associated with the rulers of the First and Second Tetrar-
chies are unaccountably absent from sculpture, coinage, inscriptions, and
monuments, and not one was awarded the titles that by the third century
had become commonplace for empresses. The absence is surprising given
that marital alliances are generally supposed to have been a prescribed part
of the Tetrarchic plan for controlled succession. A close analysis of the writ-
ten sources reveals that this presumption is in fact hard to maintain and
yields the surprising by-product of a new perspective on the question of
Constantine’s and Maxentius’s presumed status as heirs-apparent prior to
305 ce . Furthermore, drawing together both written and visual evidence—
sources not often enough deployed in tandem when discussing the imperial
families of the Tetrarchic age—this article argues that the omission of Tet-
rarchic empresses from the ideological realm was part of a conscious effort
to distance the rulers from their subjects.
Nefertiti in Egypt, Marie Antoinette in France, Maria Luisa in Spain, Kate

Middleton in Britain: royal women have always been ripe with ideological
potential when it comes to the public self-presentation of monarchic power.
The Romans, too, saw this potential. Throughout three centuries of history,
from the beginning of the Empire until its dovetail into the Byzantine Empire,
imperial women were a constant—and calculated—feature of imperial pro-
paganda.1 For a relatively brief period in the late third century ce, however,
Roman imperial women, despite their established ideological importance
See, in general, Kampen 1991; Schade 2000; Leppin 2002; Alexandridis 2004; Kolb 2010a;
1
Hidalgo de la Vega 2012; Hekster 2015. For the Julio–Claudians, see Corbier 1995; Rose 1997;
Bartman 1998; Wood 1999; Morelli 2010. For the Flavians, see Varner 1995; Gregori and Rosso
2010. For the adoptive emperors and the Antonines, see Temporini 1978; Boatwright 1991; Fitt-
schen 1996; Elliott 2002; Keltanen 2002; Priwitzer 2009; Bruun 2010. For the Severans, see Lusnia
1995; Marsden 1997; Gorrie 2004; Saavedra-Guerrero 2006; Kampen 2009, 83–103; Langford
2013. For the wives of the soldier–emperors, see Klein 2000; Ricciardi 2007.
42 Journal of Late Antiquity 11.1 (Spring): 42–82 © 2018 Johns Hopkins University Press
CHEN ^ Omitted Empresses 43
from one dynasty to the next, unaccountably disappeared from all manner of
public acknowledgement, including inscriptions, statuary, state monuments,
and coinage, 2 and not one was awarded the honorific titles that had become
commonplace for empresses by the third century.3 Puzzlingly, the same group
of imperial women, the wives of the late Roman co-rulers known as the Tet-
rarchs, served the critical political function of binding the imperial co-rulers
to one another in mutual obligation via ties of marriage, thus making their
absence from ideological venues all the more peculiar.
Until very recently, the omission of Tetrarchic empresses from official
imperial ideology had largely gone unrecognized. Apart from Hekster’s recent
work, those scholars who have acknowledged the exclusion of Tetrarchic era
empresses unanimously explain it away as an unintentional by-product or
lacuna, without seriously considering the possibility that such an absence
could be purposeful and significant. Hekster, for his part, has done much to
contextualize the lack of roles for imperial women in official ideological ven-
ues in terms of Tetrarchic efforts to make emperorship non-dynastic.4 While
this is certainly correct, throughout the course of Roman history imperial
women’s significance had never been limited solely to their dynastic symbol-
ism in the ideological realm, and so there is room to press further in order to
understand their unprecedented and total exclusion.
After briefly reviewing what is known about the Tetrarchic marriage alli-
ances and surveying the breadth of ideological manipulations (especially those
beyond the dynastic) for which the empress’ image typically had been used
under three centuries’ worth of previous emperors, this article will address
and refute the most common reasons conjectured to account for the absence
of empresses in the Tetrarchic period. Since the dearth of imperial women in
ideological venues at this historical moment lacks a fully satisfactory expla-
nation, their omission is instead treated here as a significant absence. I argue
that examination of this absence, with particular attention being paid to the
precedents for imperial women’s non-dynastic deployment, provides insight
into the types of ideological messages that this unconventional group of later
Roman rulers aimed to avoid, and by contrast, may allow us to draw further
conclusions about the view of themselves these rulers wished to communicate
to their public.
2
Hekster 2015, 280–314.
3
On the absence of the title Augusta, see Schade 2003, 17, 24; Hekster 2015, 282. Prisca and
Galeria Valeria, wives of Diocletian and Galerius, respectively, were both honored with titles at a
later date but never before 306 ce, the date at which the Second Tetrarchy officially ended with the
death of Constantius I. Political references to the empresses after the death of Constantius I and the
changes they signal in imperial ideology are explored by Hekster 2015, 287–96, 307–14.
Hekster 2015, 280–314.
4
44 Journal of Late Antiquity
Tetrarchic Empresses: The Ties that Bound?

It is often presumed that marriage alliances between co-rulers were critical
for the coherence of the Tetrarchic governmental structure and that calcu-
lated betrothals were a prescribed part of the imperial plan for controlled
succession from Augusti to Caesares.5 However, an intensive inspection of
the sources not only reveals that this assumption is tenuous but also opens up
a new perspective on the question of Constantine’s supposed status as heir-
apparent prior to 305 ce.
Literary sources fortunately have preserved for us the names of all four of
the empresses of the First Tetrarchy as well as a few details of their respective
biographies, thus providing critical insight into the role that political mar-
riages played in the establishment of the very first four-way power-share in
the highest Roman office.6 Diocletian and his wife Prisca seem to have been
married already at the time of Diocletian’s accession.7 Maximian, the first
colleague to whom Diocletian extended the invitation of co-rulership, and
his wife Eutropia, seem also to have been wed prior to Maximian’s appoint-
ment (Fig. 1).8 Nothing of either Prisca or Eutropia’s parentage or early life
is recorded in the extant sources,9 yet given the non-elite, provincial military
background of their spouses, as well as the fact that their unions most likely
were contracted before either man aspired to imperial status, it is probable that
the empresses’ pedigrees are without any particularly advantageous cachet.
The same cannot be said with regard to the wives of the Caesares belong-
ing to the First Tetrarchy. Galeria Valeria and Theodora, consorts to Gale-
rius and Constantius I, respectively, were also daughters of the Augusti.10
As Galeria Valeria was daughter to Diocletian, and Theodora to Maximian,
5
See, for instance, Frakes 2006, 92; Lenski 2006, 59–60; Corcoran 2012, 4–7.
6
Barnes 1982, 30–46.
Barnes 1982, 31.
7
The exact date of Maximian’s marriage to Eutropia remains uncertain—particularly since

8
the union may have been the second marriage for both parties. Eutropia’s first marriage to Afra-
nius Hannibalianus is undisputed. However, due to inconsistency in the historical sources naming
Theodora (the eventual wife of Constantius) as step-daughter or daughter to Maximian, of which
Barnes judges those calling her “step-daughter” less reliable, it is possible that Theodora is a natu-
ral daughter of Maximian from an otherwise unattested marriage conducted prior to his union
with Eutropia. On this controversy see Barnes 1982, 33. Based on the dates of birth of Eutropia’s
two natural children by Maximian, however, it is certain that she was married to the latter by at
least the late 270s or early 280s. On the debated birth dates for Eutropia’s children Maxentius and
Fausta, see Barnes 1982, 34; Nixon and Rodgers 1994, 198 n. 19.
Jones and Morris 1971, 316 n. 1, 726 n. 1; Kienast 2004, 75, 269.
9
10
Debate remains as to whether Theodora was Maximian’s natural daughter from a previous
marriage or an adopted daughter borne by his wife Eutropia during her previous marriage. For dis-
cussion of the controversy and the reliability of the sources, see Barnes 1982, 33–34, 38, 125–26;
Nixon and Rodgers 1994, 70 n. 38.
Figure 1: Familial Relationships of the First Tetrarchy (293–305 ce)
the Caesares’ marriages thus functioned to establish familial bonds between

the senior colleagues and the respective junior rulers with whom they shared
(informal) geographic jurisdiction.11 Once again, the precise dates at which
these marriages were contracted remain a matter of debate, but it is certain
that both unions were in place by the time of the Caesares’ appointment in
293 ce.12
The scant extent of personal information about the empresses of the First
Tetrarchy, thin though it is, seems vast in comparison with what is known
about the women married to the succeeding Caesares of the Second Tetrarchy
who took office upon Diocletian and Maximian’s abdication in 305 ce (Fig.
2). Although it is certain that both Maximinus Daia and Severus married
(and specifically that Maximinus left a widow at his death13), neither consort’s
name nor details of their backgrounds are mentioned in surviving documents
or literary compositions.14
Despite this lack of information, however, we can be almost entirely cer-
tain that the new empresses were not the daughters of the reigning Augusti
Galerius and Constantius I. This can safely be deduced from two factors.
First, it is highly unlikely that the empresses’ parentage would have failed to
inspire remark if either woman possessed an imperial pedigree, especially one
which provided a familial link between the new appointees and any member
11
On the informality of the territorial jurisdictions managed by the individual members of the
Tetrarchic college, see Williams 1985, 65–66.
The written sources unfortunately are the root of the confusion on this point. While the
12
sources provide enough clues to allow the conclusion that both Galerius and Constantius were
married prior to their attachments to the daughters of their respective senior partners, they provide
contradictory evidence as to when these first wives were put away in favor of the Augusti’s daugh-
ters. The orator who delivered Panegyric 10 in honor of Maximian in 289 ce has been understood
by some scholars to imply that Constantius served as Maximian’s Praetorian Prefect prior to his
appointment as Caesar and that Constantius’ marriage to Theodora was contracted already in ca.
288 as a means of allying Constantius and Maximian; see Pan. Lat. 10.11.4 and discussions by
Nixon and Rodgers 1994, 70 n. 38, and Barnes 1982, 125–26. Other sources, however, including
Aur. Vict. Caes. 39.24, Eutr. Brev. 9.22.1, and Jer. Chron. s.a. 225, all implicitly date Constantius
and Theodora’s marriage to 293 ce, immediately before the former’s promotion to Caesar. Despite
the number of agreeing sources, their authority is suspect given that all derive from a single source
written in 337 ce and have been found to frequently muddle the chronology of the 290s. For an
assessment of these sources’ reliability, see Barnes 1982, 125–26 n. 12.
Lact. De mort. pers. 50.6.
13
Based on Lactantius’ use of the word adfinis in describing Maximinus’ relationship to Gale-
14
rius, and on analogy with the marital alliances established among the members of the First Tetrar-
chy, Barnes 1999 and 2011, 59–60, speculates that Maximinus may have been related to Galerius
by both blood and marriage. Unfortunately, apart from Lactantius’ oblique and non-specific ref-
erence (which may itself have been colored by the author’s drive to minimize the legitimacy of
Maximinus in favor of his avowed hero, Constantine), there is nothing that suggests Maximinus
was Galerius’ relation through marriage as well as his nephew. In support of Barnes’ suggestion,
see Corcoran 2012, 7; against Barnes, see Mackay 1999, 202.
Figure 2: Familial Relationships of the Second Tetrarchy (305–306 ce)
of the First Tetrarchy.15 Second, it is well known that Galerius’ only attested
daughter, Valeria Maximilla, was wife to Maxentius, the passed-over son of
Maximian and soon-to-be usurper in Rome, while Constantius’ oldest daugh-
ter, Constantia, remained unmarried until her eventual betrothal to Licinius
in the early years of the second decade of the fourth century ce.16
It is difficult to assess whether marital alliances were intended to play an
official role in facilitating the rise of the newly appointed Caesares of the Sec-
ond Tetrarchy. The difficulty stems from the contrast between verifiable his-
torical outcomes and Lactantius’ near-contemporary (though opinion-laden
and pro-Constantinian) assessment of the intentions, motives, and abandoned
plans surrounding the Caesares’ promotion. We have on the one hand events
as they happened (that is, Maximinus and Severus took office), and on the
other hand, a single, potentially biased, account of how these events deviated
from a supposedly established plan.
According to Lactantius, in the lead-up to the retirement of the Augusti of
the First Tetrarchy, Maxentius and Constantine, sons of Maximian and Con-
stantius I, respectively, were the presumed heirs to the position of Tetrarchic
Caesar.17 The marriage between Valeria Maximilla, Galerius’ daughter, and
Maxentius typically is viewed as corroborating evidence for Lactantius’ claim
that at least Maxentius was being groomed to assume the position of Caesar.18
Furthermore, if Lactantius’ account is credible, then Maxentius’ marriage
stands as an indication that at some date prior to the abdication there may
have been a plan to arrange political marriages between the senior and junior
members of the soon-to-be Second Tetrarchy in imitation of the arrangements
made to solidify the relationships among the members of the First Tetrarchy.
Given that Lactantius composed his De mortibus persecutorum in the sec-
ond decade of the fourth century ce,19 it is hard to believe that the author’s
viewpoint is unaided by hindsight in recounting the events surrounding the
appointments of Maximinus and Severus.20 A major detail of Constantine’s
biography not recorded by Lactantius, but gleaned from other historical
See n. 14 above for Barnes’ speculative suggestion that Maximinus and Galerius may have in
15
fact been linked by both blood and marriage ties.

Lact. De mort. pers. 43.2; Zos. 2.17; see Barnes 1981, 41, 62; Demandt, 1989, 66.
16
Lactantius even goes so far as to insert a fictitious conversation between Diocletian and Gale-
17
rius into his narrative as proof for the claim that the sons of the western rulers were the heirs
apparent to the status of Caesar in 305 ce: Lact. De mort. pers. 18.10–14. The fictitiousness of the
dialogue in the passage is not in dispute.
Barnes 2011, 47–51, takes this as a given.
18
Dates between 314 and 318 ce have been suggested; see Barnes 1973. On the life of Lactan-
19
tius, see Barnes 2011, 176–78.

On how Lactantius’ account benefits from the author’s hindsight, see Mackay 1999, 206;
20
Leadbetter 2009, 204–5; Corcoran 2012, 8.

sources, undermines to some extent the conclusions Lactantius’ account tempts

us to draw regarding the role of political marriages in the establishment the
Second Tetrarchy. Lactantius treats both Maxentius and Constantine as if they
were equally favored for imperial office, but it is striking that at the time of the
fateful appointment, Maxentius was married to the daughter of a rising Augus-
tus, perhaps an indication that he was being considered for imperial office,
while Constantine had almost certainly not contracted such a marriage.21
Before marrying Maximian’s daughter Fausta in 307 ce as part of a move
to ally himself with the re-ascendant retired western Augustus, 22 Constantine
was attached to a woman named Minervina who would mother his first child.
Very little is known about this woman, and it is unclear whether the pair
was officially wed. The majority of scholars, however, agree that she came
from an undistinguished background.23 Attending to this simple, seemingly
21
The well-known passage from Pan. Lat. 7.6.2 which retrojects Constantine and Fausta’s
betrothal to a date well in advance of their eventual marriage in 307 must not be taken at face
value. The oration itself was delivered on the occasion of the couple’s union in 307, a moment at
which Constantine had recently aligned himself with the retired Maximian and his son Maxen-
tius, a ruling duo considered illegitimate by the other reigning Tetrarchs. The passage, and espe-
cially the reference to the mosaic from Aquileia that purportedly depicted the couple’s betrothal
as children, should be understood as a judicious orator’s effort to lend legitimacy to a marriage
arrangement that was much more likely conceived expeditiously in support of the alliance between
Constantine, Maximian, and Maxentius at the same politically tumultuous date. As Barnes and
others have remarked, while the Aquileia palace presumably did contain a mosaic that showed
figures in the arrangements described, its interpretation as a depiction of Constantine and Fausta’s
betrothal need be no more than the orator’s convenient gloss. See, for instance, Barnes 1982, 41
n. 58. Nixon and Rodgers 1994, 198 n. 18, cite Jul. Or. 1.7 as support for the possibility that the
engagement between Fausta and Constantine was arranged by Constantius and Maximian prior
to 307. However, Julian’s oration in praise of Constantius II was delivered more than fifty years
after Constantine’s actual marriage to Fausta. Any fictions invented and circulated in conjunction
with the marriage in 307 would likely have been deeply entrenched at such a late date. For Julian’s
purposes, perpetuating the claim that his subject’s parents were betrothed in advance of 307 would
conveniently allow him to circumvent any reference to a potentially embarrassing political epi-
sode from Constantine’s career. The same passage, it should be noted, also follows what is widely
accepted as Constantinian propaganda first formulated ca. 310 in claiming Claudius Gothicus as
ancestor. Therefore, Julian’s word on the date of the betrothal must be treated skeptically as well.
On the date of Jul. Or. 1, see Wright 1913, 3. Recently, on the invention of Constantine’s fictitious
family ties to Claudius Gothicus, see Hekster 2015, 225–33.
On Constantine’s marriage to Fausta and alliance with Maxentius and Maximian, see Nixon
22
and Rodgers 1994, 178–90; Barnes 2011, 55–56, 68–70.

For Minervina as concubine to Constantine, see for example Jones and Morris 1971, 602–3;
23
Kienast 2004, 302; Frakes 2006, 93. Contrasting the majority of scholarship that deems Minerv-
ina a concubine of Constantine, Nixon and Rodgers 1994, 195 n. 10, citing Pan. Lat. 7.4.1, con-
tend that the pair were properly wed and that Minervina must have died prior to 307, while Barnes
1982, 42–3 and 2011, 48–9, argues not only for their regular marriage but also hypothesize that
Minervina may have been a relative of Diocletian. As tidily as Barnes’ hypothesis would render
the confusing evidence surrounding the plans for the new appointments of 305 ce, unfortunately
there is no evidence to confirm it. In fact, it seems rather unlikely that Constantine’s champion
insignificant detail has implications, on one hand, for the impression that the
members of the Tetrarchic college were actively considering Constantine for a
position among their number prior to 305, and on the other hand, for evaluat-
ing whether or not political marriages continued to play a role in solidifying
the governmental structure after the First Tetrarchy.
Either case regarding the legality of Constantine and Minervina’s union—
Constantine’s status as unattached in 305 or his marriage to a woman uncon-
nected to the ruling colleagues—presents difficulties for Lactantius’ suggestion
that steps had already been taken to prepare the way for the designation of
both Maxentius and Constantine as Caesares. If Constantine was not married
at the time, his status as intended heir was suspect, inasmuch as emperors did
not normally rise to office unwed. Likewise, if Constantine had indeed con-
tracted a marriage to a woman outside the Tetrarchic circle, the incongruence
between his status and that of his counterpart Maxentius is a red flag that
perhaps Constantine was not exactly the unanimously presumed heir that
Lactantius later projected him to be.24 It seems much more likely that Lactan-
tius’ report of the plans for succession in 305 is based more on a projection
of his own (and presumably popular) expectations than on real knowledge of
imperial intentions.
Obviously, the evidence is complex and conflicting, and a straightforward
answer as to what the First Tetrarchs planned with regard to their succession
remains elusive. If we choose to accept Lactantius’ report that Constantine
was intended to succeed to the status of Caesar in 305, but follow the evidence
that suggests that he was either unmarried or married to someone without
blood ties to a member of the First Tetrarchy, then such a situation would
indicate a notable shift in thinking about the importance of marital ties with
the creation of the Second Tetrarchy. Lactantius’ tale, silent as it is about
Minervina or other marital arrangements contrived to connect Constantine
to those holding office, suggests that unlike under the First Tetrarchy, marital
ties between senior and junior colleagues may not have been deemed strictly
necessary to the governmental arrangement by the time of the Tetrarchic
experiment’s second incarnation. This actually fits well with what we know
of the probable absence of marriage ties between the senior and junior rulers
Lactantius would have missed any opportunity to exploit information that could bolster Constan-
tine’s legitimate claim to the throne and the injustice of the ultimate decision regarding the Cae-
sares of the Second Tetrarchy. If Minervina had blood ties to any member of the First Tetrarchy,
the sources’ silence on the fact would be surprising indeed.
In an attempt to remove this incongruence, a few scholars have taken what is surely Con-
24
stantinian propaganda at face value, projecting Constantine’s intended engagement to Fausta back
before the death of Constantius I. For refutations of this view, see Galletier 1949, 7 n. 2; Nixon and
Rodgers 1994, 198 n. 18; Hekster 2015, 287.
once the new Caesares of the Second Tetrarchy were officially appointed and
Constantine and Maxentius purportedly passed over.
Lactantius’ general hostility towards the majority of the Tetrarchic col-
leagues and his unabashed partiality to Constantine mean that questions
likely will always surround his contention that the appointment of Maxi-
minus and Severus instead of Maxentius and Constantine resulted from a
last-minute change of plans masterminded by a power-hungry Galerius. On
account of both Lactantius’ bias and the controversy surrounding Constan-
tine’s marriages and betrothals, it thus is likely that we will never know for
certain whether political marriages were part of an official strategy for mark-
ing out presumptive heirs. In the end, however, since it is undeniable that the
neither Maxentius nor Constantine was officially presented with the purple
upon the Augusti’s retirement, these figures may be left to the side. For the
purpose of discussion of the role that marriages played in supporting a com-
plex governmental structure of four simultaneously ruling emperors, what is
most important is not the purported imperial plans that never came to frui-
tion, but the course that historical events actually took.
What is essential to evaluate, then, is what Maximinus’ and Severus’ mar-
riages indicate about imperial women’s roles under the Second Tetrarchy. Even
in the unlikely event that the wives of Maximinus and Severus were related to
members of the First Tetrarchy, the fact that the sources do not make anything
of the relationship should be an indication that such ties were not regarded
at this date as prerequisites to securing a place as Caesar. While marriages
arranged to support political structures within a newly-conceived governmen-
tal system were clearly an important feature of the First Tetrarchy, by the time
the Second Tetrarchy came to power, their essentiality seems to have waned.
An Unexpected Absence of Empresses

Given that the empresses of the First Tetrarchy were essential for establishing
a bond of familial obligation and mutual interest among the members of the
first ruling foursome, whereas empresses did not play the same role under the
Second Tetrarchy, it would be natural to the assume that imperial women of
the First Tetrarchy featured in political propaganda while their counterparts
of the Second Tetrarchy did not. Surprisingly, however, this is not the case. For
the entirety of the period between Diocletian’s accession in 284 ce and Con-
stantius’ death in 306 ce (thereby officially ending the Second Tetrarchy), there
is not a single mention of any of the imperial wives in an inscription, nor any
depiction of them on monuments, coins, medallions, or in statuary groups.25
Hekster 2015, 280–314.

25
What is more, during this same chronological stretch, not a single one was
honored with any of the titles that by the third century ce had become com-
monplace for imperial women—among them the titles Augusta and Mater
Castrorum.26
Even the period’s panegyrics, flattering orations whose messaging reflects
individual responses to centrally generated court ideology, 27 are silent about
the relationships established between the rulers through marriage. This point
has yet to inspire scholarly comment. In those orations presented prior to
Constantius’ death (Pan. Lat. 8-11), the terms “brother” (frater), 28 “father”
(pater), 29 “grandfather” (avus),30 “uncle” (patruus),31 and “parent” (parens)32
are used to describe the relationships between the rulers,33 but by contrast,
terms indicative of relationship through marriage such as “father-in-law”
(socer) and “son-in-law” (gener) are tacitly avoided, as is direct mention of the
emperors’ wives.34 In comparison, however, the panegyric composed for the
celebration of Constantine’s wedding to Fausta in 307 is explicit in its usage
of the relational terms socer 35 and gener,36 and unlike the earlier panegyrics,
it describes Maximian as simultaneously pater and socer to Constantius on
account of the latter’s marriage to the Augustus’ daughter and his adoption
Schade 2003, 17, and Hekster 2015, 282 recognize the absence of the Augusta title in the
26
period between 284 and 308 ce but do not comment on the absence of other titles. On the promi-
nence of titles for imperial women through the third century, see Kuhoff 1993; Klein 2000, 88–95;
Schade 2003, 8–12; Kunst, C. 2010; Kolb, A. 2010b; Hemelrijk 2010, 138; Langford 2013; Ange-
lova 2015, 83–84.
Hekster 2015, 301.
27
Pan. Lat. 10.1.5, 10.4.1, 10.9.1 (fraternum = “fraternal”), 10.9.3, 10.10.6, 11.7.4–7.
28
Pan. Lat. 8.1.3, 8.13.2, 9.8.1.

29
Pan. Lat. 9.8.1.

30
Pan. Lat. 8.1.3.

31
Pan. Lat. 9.6.2.

32
For the use of terminology in the panegyrics and elsewhere which stresses non-marital famil-
33
ial relationships between the co-rulers, see Hekster 2015, 277–314.

There is only one possible—and even then, only partial—exception to the panegyrics’ silence
34
regarding marital relationships binding senior and junior ruling partners of the First Tetrarchy. In
the passage Pan. Lat. 10.11.4, already cited and discussed above (n. 12), the reference to Maxim-
ian’s having bound himself by means of marriage to a highly ranking man from his entourage
may be an allusion to Constantius’ marriage to Theodora, although this is not certain. Even if the
orator’s remark should prove to reference Constantius’ union with Maximian’s daughter (or step-
daughter), the panegyric dates to 289 ce, that is, before the appointment of the Caesares in 293
ce that resulted in the First Tetrarchy. This means that Constantius was not yet an emperor, and
Theodora therefore not yet an empress, at the time Panegyric 10 was delivered in Trier. On the date
of the panegyric, see Nixon and Rodgers 1994, 42–43. For discussion of the presiding opinions as
to what historical personages may have been indicated by the cited passage, see Nixon and Rodgers
1994, 70 n. 38.
Pan. Lat. 7.2.1, 3.2, 8.1, 14.7.
35
Pan. Lat. 7.2.1, 3.3, 6.1,14.7.

36
upon appointment as Caesar.37 Given the fact that under the First Tetrarchy
the Caesares’ wives were the ties that bound the four men to one another, the
absence of any allusion to Constantius’ relation to Maximian by marriage in
the two panegyrics written in praise of the western Caesar (Pan. Lat. 8 and 9)
is unexpected and requires further explanation.
What the language of the panegyrics seems to indicate is that familial
terminology implying (fictitious) direct relation between imperial men took
precedence over that of the reality of marital relations. This fits exactly with
what the archaeological record has already indicated, that is, that the marital
relationships between the rulers were not exploited in imperial propaganda—
either inscriptional or visual—as part of a strategy to publicly bolster the
validity of the Augusti’s choice of Caesares. In both verbal and visual propa-
ganda, the reality of the important roles Tetrarchic empresses played in the
political realm was purposefully backgrounded to the fiction of an all-male
family created through adoption.
In fact, the iconography that has become the most iconic of the Tetrar-
chic age—that of four indistinguishable rulers engaged in a mutual embrace
(Fig. 3)—may be understood as a visualization of what the panegyrics accom-
plished through their terminological characterization of the rulers’ relation-
ships.38 Kampen’s work has suggested that the vision of the Tetrarchic rulers
engaged in a gesture of embrace must surely have called to mind for at least
some viewers the embrace’s original context as a gesture shared among family
members.39 Seen in this familial light, the stylistic choices made with regard
to the non-naturalism of the embracing portraits suddenly have a new reso-
nance. Apart from its semiotic capacity to point toward a unity of purpose and
drive among the four individuals sharing the imperial office for the first time,
physiognomic resemblance between imperial figures was also a characteris-
tic customarily used to indicate familial relation, and therefore often tapped
in service of imperial propaganda.40 Given that similarity in appearance had
long been used to signal or fabricate shared blood ties between members of
a dynasty, the physical resemblance among the Tetrarchs must have, like the
embrace between them, called up associations of family. With their common
37
Pan. Lat. 7.14.4.
38
Hekster 2015, 286, recognizes the Tetrarchic statues displaying the much-discussed Tetrar-
chic embrace as “the image of an all-male non-biological family household.”
Kampen 2009, 111–4; cf. Hekster 2015, 286.
39
It may never be certain, for instance, how much the various Julio–Claudian princes of the
40
early imperial period resembled their ancestor, the emperor Augustus, nor how similar emperor
Marcus Aurelius and his adopted brother and co-ruler Lucius Verus really appeared, since all
that remains are portraits wherein facial and bodily characteristics could be easily exaggerated or
finessed to serve ideological ends.
Figure 3: Two groups of embracing Tetrarchic emperors from

Constantinople, today reused in the church of San Marco, Venice.
(author’s photograph)
bodily and facial traits shared among the colleagues, the portraits, therefore,
can be understood to imply fictitious genetic relation among the co-rulers.
Further, the specific formal choices with regard to the character of the
physiognomy the emperors shared is especially significant, since these formal
choices work to cast the members of the ruling college as a particular type of
family. The insistent geometry in the facial features shared by the members
of the four-man team makes the figures seem less realistic, less like some-
thing one could encounter in this world. They are diminished in their human-
ity, and as such, in their relatability. The choice of material must also have
added to the otherworldly effect. Prior to the Tetrarchic period, porphyry

was used in sculptures of human figures, but usually for accouterments and
garments, not for areas of skin. In the few pre-Tetrarchic instances where
an entire figure—skin and all—was rendered in porphyry, it is notable that
the subject was either a divine figure or a deceased and deified emperor.41
This suggests that prior to the Tetrarchic period the choice to render a por-
trait image entirely in porphyry was already a signifier of superhuman status.
This porphyry skin in combination with stylized features creates the illusion
that the rulers are beings unlike those who gaze upon their likeness while
reinforcing the emperors’ importance by advertising their privileged access to
exotic material.42 Meanwhile, the figures’ mutual embrace, creating as it does
effectively a closed circle, reads as purposefully exclusionary, furthering the
impression that these rulers are physically set apart.
Paired in the Tetrarchic porphyry groups, then, are visual cues taken
directly from the realm of family representation and a confluence of signals
certainly meant to mark out the emperors’ distinction from the realm of ordi-
nary, non-imperials, but probably also meant to imply that these imperial
beings belong to another—non-human—realm altogether. The similitude,
gesture, style, and even the material selected for these portraits, together with
the total absence of imperial women from the ideological realm, can be seen
as an attempt to cast these men as an all-male familial unit bound by blood
relation and a shared character of otherworldliness.
Indisputably, emperors since the time of Augustus had incorporated a lim-
ited range of iconographic cues (for instance, divine attributes and nudity) into
selected lifetime portraits to imply an emperor’s affinity with the gods.43 Key
in the case of the Tetrarchic porphyry portraits, however, is the concurrence
of a novel group of visual signals used to imply the supernatural character
of a group of reigning emperors, and especially, the implication that familial
bonds between men could be achieved without the aid of women. Such an
Among the pre-Tetrarchic statues of gods where skin portions are executed in porphyry are
41
a handful of Egyptian deities including Bes and Serapis (see del Bufalo 2012, S6, S7, S8, H12); a
possible Mithraic relief (del Bufalo 2012, R2); an archaistic female, probably a divinity (del Bufalo
2012, S9 and H14); and a head of Minerva (del Bufalo 2012, H10). Two porphyry columns with
projecting busts portraying Nerva and Trajan are preserved in the Louvre. A third bust of the same
type, with a non-pertinent head and no longer attached to a column, likely belonged to the same
monument. All three pieces are believed to have come from the Mausoleum of Hadrian, therefore
depicting deceased, deified emperors; see Malgouyres 2004, cat. 7–8; del Bufalo 2012, B11. The
date of execution for a portrait whose exact identification is still debated (either Augustus or Gaius
Caesar; see del Bufalo 2012, H7) is not known, but since no other living emperor had a portrait
head in porphyry before the Tetrarchy, the image is likely also posthumous.
On porphyry as an imperial prerogative, see Delbrueck 1932, 1–33.
42
Hallett 2005.
43
insistent and unprecedented assemblage would conceivably have had the effect
of more ardently distancing the Tetrarchic rulers from the human realm than
previous theomorphic insignia.
Striking, then, is the disconnect between the methods the emperors of the
First Tetrarchy used for creating alliances among themselves and the strategy
they used for conveying their cooperation to the public. In previous generations
of Roman rulership, when a reigning emperor selected a non-consanguineous
successor and elected to adopt this heir as a means of securing the succession,
he was never content with relying entirely on the adoption alone to cement the
perception of the heir’s legitimacy in public opinion.44 It was not the custom,
for example, for a reigning ruler to simply adopt a successor and distribute a
mass of propaganda advertising the newly contracted, lawful father–son rela-
tionship between the involved male parties. Rather, it was usual for emperors
to bind their chosen successor to themselves by marriage as well as adoption
as a way of bolstering the assurance of a smooth transition in the highest
office. Ordinarily, ruler and heir then took great pains to publicly flaunt the
female members of the imperial house, who could be harnessed to remind the
public of the layered and complex bonds the ruler–heir pair shared. It was
exactly in cases such as these that pre-Tetrarchic rulers made some of the most
forceful use of their female relatives.45
But emperors of the First Tetrarchy, as we have seen, acted entirely in
contrast when it came to publicizing their unions. Why, if they chose to make
these strategic marriages in the first place, did they choose to remain silent
about them in official ideological venues? There seems to be an attempt here
to imply through both visual and verbal propaganda—top-down propaganda
The only exception to this observation is the peculiar case of Nerva’s adoption of Trajan.
44
Upon adoption by Nerva, Trajan was already married to Plotina, who was apparently of no relation
to the reigning emperor. From the time Trajan took office, until the selection of Marcus Aurelius
and Lucius Verus as heirs, politically motivated marriages conceived to bolster the relationship
between the ruler and adopted heir became the norm in cases where adoption was the mode of
designating an heir to the throne. On the method of adoption for designating imperial heirs in the
second century, see Hekster 2002, 18–20. For the date of Trajan’s marriage to Plotina see Dessau
and Klebs 1897, 509; Kienast 2004, 126.
A case in point is Marcus Aurelius. Although betrothed at the time to Ceionia Fabia, when
45
it was agreed that he would become Antoninus Pius’ heir, his betrothal was annulled in favor of a
union with Faustina Minor, daughter to Antoninus. Both Antoninus’ and Marcus’ political propa-
ganda made good use of the female members of their family in order to increase public awareness
of the depth and variety to the relationships they shared. Faustina Major (wife to Antoninus) and
her daughter Faustina Minor (Marcus’ wife) were both rewarded with imperial titles while living,
had cities, buildings, and institutions dedicated in their honor, featured in imperially sanctioned
statuary and coinage, and were deified after their death, all as part of the ideological web that wove
Antoninus and his successor together. On the use of the Antonine empresses for ideological effect,
see Boatwright 2000; Keltanen 2002. On the kinship between Hadrian, Antoninus, and Marcus,
see Priwitzer 2009, 22–93.
generated by the court as well as bottom-up flattery that eschewed facts to

reflect central messaging and appeal to the emperors—that this unique group
of imperial men was miraculously able to establish a family unit unaided by
women. Such a characterization would have added to the impression that
these rulers possessed a status beyond that of the ordinary human. We will
return to this point momentarily. For now, so that we may more fully contex-
tualize the Tetrarchic decision to omit imperial women from official ideologi-
cal venues as a major break from tradition and establish a sense of the kinds of
messages these emperors aimed to avoid in doing so, it is necessary to summa-
rize the numerous ways in which empresses had been utilized for ideological
effect—both dynastic and non-dynastic—in the pre-Tetrarchic Empire.
Making the Most of Imperial Women:

Imperial Precedents
A cursory survey of the history of the first three centuries of the imperial period
reveals that every single emperor since Augustus, without exception until Dio-
cletian’s ascent, utilized the women of his imperial house to his own political
advantage. As one might expect after three hundred years of development, by
the time Diocletian came to power in 284 ce, the emperor had at his disposal
numerous and widely varied examples for how a ruler might go about mak-
ing the most effective use of the full range of members of his imperial house.
Surprisingly, such a survey has never been attempted, perhaps at least in part
due to a mistaken assumption that imperial women were put to use in imperial
propaganda for the same (dynastic) reasons and in the same ways dynasty after
dynasty.46 As we will see below, however, this is hardly the case.
Connecting Important Men

Perhaps most frequently, references to imperial women in the ideological realm
were geared towards linking important (usually imperial) men to one another.
In the Roman dynastic system, the legitimacy of a claimant to imperial power
usually depended on blood-relationship, marriage, or strategic adoption. An
empress’ appearance in official media could help to establish the presence of
either real or orchestrated family ties between a ruler and his successor.47
For dynastic succession under the most ideal of circumstances, it was a
ruler’s son or close relative that was marked out as intended heir. Both as
an assurance and visual reminder of the legitimate status possessed by the
Hekster 2015, 111–59, surveys the dynastic uses of imperial women in court ideology but does
46
not explore the ways in which they were put to use for non-dynastic purposes.
See Kunst 2001; Keltanen 2002, 140; Cooper 2007, 191; Ricciardi 2007; Hekster 2015, 111–59.
47
reigning emperor’s blood heir(s), and a reassuring gesture to the public to

demonstrate that future imperial succession would be unproblematic and
uncontested, the empresses’ inclusion on state sponsored ideological media
came to be almost a commonplace for Roman rulers aiming to establish (or
maintain) a dynasty. Examples of such use of imperial women can be found
in all three centuries leading up to Diocletian’s rise to power.48
Biological ties were not the only way in which emperors could mark out
a handpicked successor, or conversely, in which a new ruler could link him-
self with a preceding ruler to whom he possessed no ties by blood. In such
alternate dynastic strategies, however, imperial women were still key. Often
in cases where the newly reigning emperor had no biological connection to his
predecessor, imperial women were used to signal the existence of politically
contrived marriage alliances, usually established hand-in-hand with similarly
motivated adoptions.49 Portraying empresses in public venues to advertise
strategic marital alliances, comparable in practice to the use of women to
capitalize on the ideological value of biological ties between important men
both for the purpose of justification for rule and public reassurance of plans
for a peaceable progression from current ruler to successor, was likewise a
strategy with a storied history by the time of the Tetrarchic ascension.50
Interestingly, information gleaned from historical sources indicates at
first glance that the Tetrarchs picked up much from the examples set by their
The Julio–Claudian and Severan lines made particularly pointed use of imperial women to
48
this end; see Hekster 2015, 117–58. Even the tumultuous middle and later third century ce, with
its short reigns, violent usurpations, and the relative scarcity of large-scale commissions, manages
to demonstrate that the comparable exploitation of imperial women as confirmation of blood ties
between ruler and successor remained a tactic in the ideological arsenal of later rulers. To name
but a single example, coins and a medallion known from the reign of Philip the Arab (244–249 ce)
feature not only the emperor himself but also his consort and young son, his would-be heir. See
Banti 1983, IV.3 Phillipus 1, 4; Mattingly and Sydenham 1936, RIC IV.3 Phillipus 222, 229, 261.
Marriages of this type were a common way to cement political negotiations among important
49
Roman men since they served to create familial relationships among the interested parties thus
binding them together in mutual obligation. See Corbier 1991, 67; Gardner 1998, 115; Kunst 2001;
Keltanen 2002, 140; Cooper 2007, 191.
The ideological uses of the Antonine empresses are the example par excellence, but one may
50
also consider Agrippina’s appearance in Neronian propaganda in the same light. The empress’
machinations resulted in Claudius’ formal adoption of her son, a move that would place Nero as
imperial heir ahead of the emperor’s own biological son, Britannicus. Agrippina’s appearance in
propagandistic materials, therefore, is not a straightforward appeal to biological justifications for
Nero’s right to inherit the throne. Her actions mean that this historical period, like that of the Anto-
nines, stands as a case in which the political exploitation of an imperial woman was used to signal
the reasonableness of Nero’s inheritance of the imperial position due to the obligations imposed
by marriage and adoption. On Agrippina, Claudius, the establishment of Nero as heir, and Agrip-
pina’s role in imperial propaganda see Barrett 1996, 95–180; Späth 2000; Vogt-Lüerrssen 2002;
Smith 2013, 74–78. On the ideological uses of Antonine empresses, see Hekster 2015, 137–43.
predecessors with regard to preparing the way for chosen successors to the office
of emperor. The case of non-biological heirs marked out and bound to their
predecessors through both marriage and adoption, as in the example set by the
Antonines, is directly analogous to the situation in place during the reign of the
Tetrarchs. But despite using the marital strategy established by their predeces-
sors for designating non-blood heirs as successors, the Tetrarchs broke with tra-
dition in not exploiting those unions in their political propaganda. This thread
will be picked up later when considering how to understand imperial women’s
absence from the monuments and media created in support of Tetrarchic rule.
Securing Support
Contrary to expectation, an emperor’s utilization of familial references in
the public realm was by no means always aimed at reinforcing peaceful suc-
cession or legitimacy—there were a number of additional uses to which the
imperial family could be put. For instance, empresses could just as effectively
be used to secure approval for the emperor from among important ranks of
society. It is well known that Roman emperors’ hairstyles were carefully codi-
fied and replicated in their portraiture in order to aid their public identifi-
cation from the time of Augustus throughout the Empire. It is noteworthy,
however, that no analogous system was ever developed for the portraiture of
the imperial consort. Since the Romans were able to devise such a system for
emperors’ hairstyles, the answer to the question of why such a system never
arose is surely not a lack of ability on the part of the Roman workmen to
formulate a method to achieve such consistency. The coiffures worn by the
women of the imperial house were at least as complicated as those their male
counterparts donned, and thus the definition of the direction for a set of curls
or the particular placement of a braid or a twist of hair as defining features
for an empress’ portrait type would have eased the process of portrait repli-
cation on the production end of the equation while assisting in recognition
through greater consistency in the empress’ image in the realm of reception.
The absence of such a system has meant that imperial women’s portraits,
unlike the portraits of emperors, lack strictly defined characteristics that dis-
tinguish their portraits from those of private women of the same period (Figs.
4–7).51 In fact, empresses’ portrait images were styled so similarly to those of
their elite contemporaries that it has complicated efforts to securely identify
countless portrait heads in museums and private collections.52
Klein 2000, 93; Keltanen 2002, 118, 124; Schade 2003, 9; Fejfer 2008, 272–73.

51
Despite the difficulties, it should be acknowledged that dedicated scholarly study making use
52
of diligent comparison between numismatic and sculptural representations has seen some success
in convincingly identifying the portraits of imperial women with the most voluminous numbers of
Figure 4: Portrait of Domitia Longina. Figure 5: Private woman styled as Domitia

Marble. Height: 0.3 m. Paris, Louvre. Longina. Marble. Height: 0.28m. Paris,
(photo courtesy of Clio20, Wikimedia Louvre. (after Fejfer, Roman Portraits in
Commons) Context, fig. 291)
Far from implying the relative unimportance of imperial wives, the depic-
tion of empresses in a way that played down their singularity and stressed
their similarity to other aristocratic women should be understood as a calcu-
lated choice. Fejfer has convincingly argued that this choice actually reveals
one of the most important functions of imperial women’s images in the public
realm. Publicly depicting the emperor as head of his family made him relat-
able, and the advertisement of his union with a woman who was depicted in a
manner that often made her indistinguishable from other aristocratic women
surviving representations. Although it still stands that no system of codification analogous to the
one used in the replication of emperors’ portraits was developed for empresses, portraits of Livia,
Agrippina the Younger, Faustina the Elder, Faustina the Younger, and Julia Domna are often con-
sidered more securely identified than others; see, for instance, Bartman 1998, on representations
of Livia. However, even among the empress portraits regarded as more securely identified, debate
still surrounds the identification of selected examples; see, for instance, Kleiner 1981, 516, 539, and
Fejfer 2008, 355, who doubts that the vast numbers of portraits currently identified as Livia do in
fact all portray the first empress. As in our own period, it is likely that some degree of reciprocal-
ity of influence between private persons and well-known public icons existed in setting the style of
women’s coiffures throughout the imperial period. Some trends may have resulted from a bottom-
up impulse, while others were the result of top-down transfer. On the possibility of the former, see
Kleiner 1981, and on the latter, see Fejfer 2008, 357.
Figure 6: Portrait of Julia Domna. Figure 7: Portrait of a private woman

Marble. Height: 0.27m. Copenhagen, styled as Julia Domna. Marble. Height
Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek. (photo cour- (with bust). Rome, Palazzo Corsini. (after
tesy of Carole Raddato, Wikimedia Fejfer, Roman Portraits in Context, fig.
Commons) 297)
due to the lack of codification in her portrait image helped to maintain the
fiction that the emperor was “first among equals,” thus easing relations with
the Senate and garnering support within the aristocratic elite.53
Special titles for imperial women could also be used to similar effect. In
particular, titles such as Mater Castrorum and Mater Senatus were bestowed
with some frequency on imperial women in the third century ce and implied
a symbolic extension of the empress’ maternity to the targeted groups.54 Such
a relationship suggested a reciprocal obligation to filial piety on the part of the
designated group, thus helping to secure the loyalty of the group in question,
or as Langford has recently argued, to at least imply (for the benefit of other
subsets of the Roman population) that the said loyalty was secured.55 Table
1 demonstrates that in the mid- to late third century’s period of the so-called
53
Alexandridis 2004, 109–12; Fejfer 2008, 331–69, 406, 434.
54
Kuhoff 1993; Klein 2000, 88–95; Schade 2003, 8–12; Ricciardi 2007, 57, and passim; Hemel-
rijk 2012; Angelova 2015, 83–4. For a discussion of the emergence of the Mater Castrorum title and
its function within imperial ideology, see Hemelrijk 2010; Hemelrijk 2012; Langford 2013, 31–48.
Boatwright 2003, 265; Hemelrijk 2010; Langford 2013, 31–48.
55
soldier emperors, practically every emperor who remained in office for more
than a matter of months bestowed the title Mater Castrorum on his wife,
and many of them also saw fit to designate their wives as Mater Senatus and
Mater Patriae as well. This therefore was a strong, ideologically-geared trend
leading up to Diocletian’s accession.
In relation to the uses of imperial women outlined above, Angelova
recently has drawn attention to the tendency to cast female imperial family
members in roles as founders of the Roman state for ideological purposes.
The civic benefactions either initiated by or in the names of women intimately
tied to the Julio–Claudian, Antonine, and Severan imperial courts were cele-
brated with great enthusiasm as one among many intersecting methods aimed
at bolstering the ruling authority and swaying public support in favor of male
sovereigns.56 Attributable endowments may not have even been required to
justify the ideological designation of empresses as founders and benefactors.
Angelova argues that the numerous assimilations of empresses to goddesses
in both art and dedicatory inscriptions, as well as the records of divine hon-
ors and titles (such as euergetes) accorded to these women suggest that they
could be deemed in fulfillment of the role of benefactor solely through their
symbolic position as mothers of the fatherland and imperial house.57 Once
again, however, given the lack of images, inscriptions, and titles in honor of
the women of the Tetrarchic houses, this strategy appears to have been absent
under the rule of the First and Second Tetrarchies.
Policing Behavior and Defining Identity

Official media could also publicly extol imperial women as exempla of
women’s virtues, thus setting an example for the virtuous lives that all good
Roman women should strive to live.58 For example, the Ara Pacis Augustae’s
representation of a healthy host of imperial women and children demonstrates
the imperial family’s compliance with the standards for marital and repro-
ductive behavior set out in Augustus’ moral legislation of 18–17 bce, while
personifications of feminine virtues like pudicitia portrayed on the reverses of
coins struck in the names of imperial wives (Fig. 8) were meant to irrevocably
bind the personified concept and empress in the minds of the Roman public.
Sculptural and numismatic examples of this type attest to the empress’ status
as a sort of moral archetype among Roman matrons. Such efforts invited
Angelova 2015, 84–86.

56
Angelova 2015, 86–107.

57
Alexandridis 2004, 18–28; Langford 2013, 31–48.

58
Figure 8: RIC IV 58A, Herennia Etruscilla, wife of emperor Decius. Obverse: HER
ESTRVSCILLA AVG. Reverse: PVDICITA AVG. Pudicitia (chastity, modesty)
seated left holding scepter and drawing veil from her face, a gesture commonly asso-
ciated with marriage. (ANS 1967.153.78. American Numismatic Society.)
non-imperial persons to compare themselves with members of the imperial

house and thus played a role in both covertly policing the behaviors of the
population and shaping Roman identity.
In a related way, the juxtaposition of the imperial family with barbarian
peoples in official media such as state monuments, coins, and imperial gifts
underlined a key facet of Roman self-image that Romans believed justified
their right to conquest—that is, the belief in Roman order and civilization, here
demonstrated by the structure of the Roman family. Usually such ideological
themes were played out in public venues in celebration of successful military
campaigns.59 To give one example, the Forum of Trajan in its original state of
decoration displayed what may at first seem a strange amalgamation of intense
military imagery, pitiable (if noble) barbarians, and rather stoic representations
of the imperial family (Figs. 9–13).60 The Dacians are portrayed with a pathos
derived from Hellenistic style, while the emperor and his family members are
shown with much more reserved expressions and poses, thus hinting at their
Kleiner 1978; Kampen 1991, 242; Flory 1995, 129–30; Kleiner 2001, 49; Kunst 2001, 4;
59
Keltanen 2002, 105–46.
That is, statues of Matidia the Elder, Marciana, and Agrippina the Younger, all today in Flor-
60
ence at the Loggia ei Lanzi, all which once adorned the Forum of Trajan; see Boatwright 2000. On
the Forum of Trajan and its decorative scheme in general, see Packer 2001.
Figure 9: Sculptural decor from the Figure 10: Sculptural decor from the
Forum of Trajan, 106–112 ce . Trajan’s Forum of Trajan, 106–112 ce . Dacian
Column recounting the emperor’s Da- prisoner, today reused on the Arch of
cian Wars. (photo courtesy of Carole Constantine. (photo courtesy of Cris-
Raddato, Wikimedia Commons) tian Chirita, Wikimedia Commons)
superior ability as Romans to control their passions.61 Control of one’s behav-

iors, like the structured Roman family headed by the paterfamilias, was con-
sidered a crucial feature of Roman identity. In Trajan’s forum, therefore, the
contrast between the orderly, restrained, and morally upright imperial family
unit and the passionate barbarians—further emphasized by stylistic differen-
tiation marking out Roman from non-Roman—was all part of the justification
for Roman aggression and reaffirmation of a collective identity.
Art objects and monuments featuring the juxtaposed imperial family and
captive enemy, to which a corresponding interpretation may be applied, can
be identified both before and after the construction and decoration of Trajan’s
forum. One need look only to the first century’s Grand Camée de France with
On the styles embedded within Roman art as part of a semantic system, see Holscher 2002.
61
Figures 11–13: Sculptural decor from the
Forum of Trajan, 106–112 ce . Empresses
of the imperial house, today housed in the
Loggia della Signoria, Florence. (photos
courtesy Egisto Sani, https://creativecom-
mons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/legalcode;
no adaptations have been made to these
images)
Figure 14: Fragment from the Arch of Figure 15: Fragment from the Arch
Septimius Severus, Leptis Magna. Male of Septimius Severus, Leptis Magna.
captive, probably of eastern descent, Female captive, framed between pilas-
framed between pilaster and column on ter and column on the arch’s SW exte-
the arch’s SW exterior side. rior side.
its contrasting registers of imperial and barbarian families, or the early third
century’s Severan Arch in Leptis Magna (Figs. 14–17) to see that the type
of strategic employment of the imperial family as described for the Trajanic
forum was not an isolated occurrence.62
And yet, when we examine the Tetrarchic period, not simply is there no
record of the emperors capitalizing on this type of imagery despite numerous
successes against foreign enemies, but there actually is a preserved example
where an opportunity to implement this strategy was pointedly passed over.
One of the most discussed reliefs from the Arch of Galerius in Thessalon-
iki recounts the famous capture of the Persian harem (Figs. 18–19).63 Since
On using representation of barbarian families, and barbarians as foils for Roman identity, see
62
Ferris 2000, 1–25, 50; Zanker 2002a and 2002b; Dillon 2006; Aillagon 2008, 156–59.
For the identification of the scene and for previous interpretations of the harem scene, see
63
Pond Rothman 1977, 423, 447 n. 39.

Figure 16: Fragment from the Arch of
Septimius Severus, Leptis Magna. Captive
male and female barbarians and trophy,
from the SE interior face of the arch.
Figure 17: Fragment from the Arch of Septimius Severus, Leptis Magna. Concordia
relief from the monument’s crowning SW frieze, one of several panels featuring the
imperial family. (All images courtesy of Livius.org.)
Figure 18: Scene depicting the capture of the Persian harem. Arch of Galerius, Thes-
saloniki. (author’s photograph)
Figure 19: Scene depicting the capture of the Persian harem. Arch of Galerius,
Thessaloniki. (Drawing from Kinch, L’arc de triomphe de Salonique, 1890)
marriage for Romans was emphatically monogamous,64 the inclusion of the

Tetrarchic spouses on the monument, a move famously presaged on count-
less pre-Tetrarchic monuments, would have added to the arch’s message of
Romanitas and served as an additional, effective means of differentiating the
Tetrarchs from their Sasanian rival. Although caution must be exercised since
the monument is today in a fragmentary state, from what we can judge, the
Scheidel 2011.
64
Tetrarchic women are absent from the Thessaloniki arch and not alluded to
in any capacity.
The persistent use of imperial women throughout the centuries as a means
of securing the support of diverse groups, shaping public behavior, and as
aids in defining what it was to be “Roman” demonstrates that plentiful prec-
edent existed for trotting out the feminine members of the imperial family for
more reason than to convince the public of successional security or legitimate
right to rule. The foregoing survey has shown that it is possible to discern
various diachronic trends in the ways in which Roman emperors harnessed
the ideological potential of the female members of the imperial house, trends
that could be used in isolation or in conjunction to layer more complex mes-
sages into a single object of propaganda. The important take-away point of
this brief survey is that by the time of Diocletian’s accession, emperors had
options for how to make use of their female relations. Given diversity in the
questions to which an empress’ presence might speak, a plethora of precedents
gleaned from three centuries, and the ability to combine strategies, or not, as
fit the given ruler’s needs, it seems likely that Diocletian and his colleagues
could have put the symbolic power of the women of their families to work in
the ideological realm had they so desired. This makes the absence of imperial
women stand out as a significant novelty that deserves closer consideration,
to which we now turn.
Evaluating Justifications for the Tetrarchic

Empresses’ Absence
That political marriages were contracted to support the adoptive structure
of the first Tetrarchic system, but that the emperors chose not to acknowl-
edge this fact in any way in imperial propaganda, is a surprising and signifi-
cant break from tradition. Nevertheless, the absence of titles or depictions of
imperial women from the time of the First Tetrarchy has until very recently
hardly raised eyebrows in the scholarship. When notice has been taken, the
empresses’ omission generally has been explained away by recourse to three
main justifying explanations—two of which can be dismissed immediately
and the third being only partially satisfactory.
The first justification for the absence of Tetrarchic empresses from the
ideological media produced under the First Tetrarchy, although scholars do
not state it explicitly, implies that the empresses’ absence is unsurprising
given the military character of the period.65 Since Roman women are typi-
See, for instance, Kunst 2001, 3.

65
cally associated with the domestic sphere and since empresses did not lead
legions nor fight in battles and since these particular imperial wives held no
significance for linking the Tetrarchic rulers to a previous, well-loved impe-
rial predecessor whose memory might be useful in securing the loyalty of
troops, the proposition seems at first well-founded. While the point about
the Tetrarchic empresses’ inability to provide legitimizing dynastic links is
certainly true, such an argument overlooks the fact that the title Mater Cas-
trorum was an honorary title that could cast an imperial woman in a role of
military relevance. In fact, as we have seen, the title was one that numerous
empresses had received since the time of Julia Domna,66 coming into especial
prominence in exactly that period called by modern historians the reign of
the “Soldier–Emperors,” with practically every empress from the middle of
the third century ce awarded the title.67 But unaccountably, the title disap-
pears under the First Tetrarchy. Although the Tetrarchs’ wives could not
serve to provide connections to former beloved emperors or dynasties, prec-
edents did exist for the inclusion of imperial women in state ideology even
in a highly militarized context,68 and thus these emperors could conceivably
have found useful ways of deploying their wives to the benefit of their non-
dynastic legitimization strategies had they so desired. The martial character
of the period cannot alone account for the reluctance to exploit the imperial
family in the public realm.
Secondly, it has been assumed that the ideological potential of the
empresses of the First Tetrarchy was in fact exploited in much the same way
as that of preceding empresses, but that the effects of damnatio memoriae
have eradicated the evidence.69 It is the case, however, that not one numis-
matic image of any one of the four original Tetrarchs’ wives survives from the
period before 306 ce.70 Typically, damnatio memoriae did not obliterate all
numismatic images of the condemned woman. For example, coins are known
for Poppaea and Messalina, both imperial women who suffered damnatio in
the first century.71 It seems, therefore, that had coins been minted in the name
of the first Tetrarchic empresses, they likely would have remained despite later
damnatio. Additionally, late, post-306 coins remain extant for the Tetrarchic
Kuhoff 1993; Klein 2000, 88–95; Schade 2003, 8–12. For an in-depth discussion of Julia
66
Domna as Mater Castorurm, see Langford 2013, 36–48.

See Table 1.
67
Alexandridis 2000, 24; Boatwright 2003.

68
Kleiner 2001, 55; Varner 2001, 85; Varner 2004, 221.

69
Mattingly and Sydenham 1968; Sutherland and Carson 1967; Schade 2003, 17; Holloway
70
1977, 69–72.
Holloway 1977, 31–37.
71
empress Galeria Valeria,72 who, like the wife of Diocletian, suffered damnatio
memoriae at the hands of Licinius in the early fourth century ce.73 The effects
of damnatio therefore seem an unlikely explanation for the total absence of
imagery and titles related to the Tetrarchic empresses before 306.
The third explanation, citing the Tetrarchy’s intent to create a collegiate
rule untethered to traditional dynastic parameters, goes the furthest toward
accounting for the absence of Tetrarchic women from the ideological realm.
Most recently, Hekster has suggested that the reluctance of the Tetrarchic
emperors to portray themselves as husbands or fathers in official media
“should be linked to their attempt to make emperorship non-dynastic.”74
But accounting for the lacunary empresses of the Tetrarchic imperial houses
by way of this explanation is not entirely satisfactory. Such a justification
for their absence rests on the idea that the principal reason imperial women
appeared in official media was to legitimate imperial offspring and smooth the
path for dynastic succession.
In fact, as I have demonstrated in the foregoing survey, there were a vari-
ety of messages that could be conveyed through the medium of the empress,
and not all of them had to do with the principles of succession. Childless
empresses such as Plotina75 and Sabina,76 and mothers of only female off-
spring such as Severina,77 empress of Aurelian, were put to good ideological
use by setting examples of feminine virtue, demonstrating the concordia and
health of the state, and serving as confirmation of Roman order and civility.
And, as we saw earlier, publicly acknowledging the reality of the Caesares
of the First Tetrarchy as husbands to the daughters of their senior colleagues
would have been an effective and precedented way to communicate the
solidity of this unprecedented arrangement for shared rule that needs not
necessarily allude to dynastic heirs.78 Yet again, the intent for non-dynastic
Sutherland and Carson 1967, RIC VI Siscia 196, 204, 210–11; Serdica 32–34, 41–43; Thes-
72
salonica 29, 33–36; Heraclea 39, 43, 50; Nicomedia 47, 53, 57–58; Cyzicus 38, 46, 58, 71; Antioch
80, 84, 91, 98, 107, 115, 121, 138, 151; Alexandria 67, 81, 95, 98, 110, 122, 128–29. On the
deployment of Tetrarchic empresses post-306, see Hekster 2015, 290–96.
Lact. De mort. pers. 50–51.
73
Schade 2003, 17, 43; Hekster 2015, 283.

74
Pan. Trai. 83; see Kuhoff 1993, 249; Keltanen 2002, 110–15; Kienast 2004, 126; Langford
75
2013, 93.
Boatwright 1991, 513–40; Keltanen 2002, 118–24; Kienast 2004, 132–33.
76
Kienast 2004, 236–37; Ricciardi 2007, 286–309.

77
While Constantius and Theodora’s marriage would eventually bear male children, and Galerius
78
and Galeria Valeria would bear Valeria Maximilla (future wife of Maxentius), neither union was
directly connected to either of the two “anticipated” heirs (Constantine and Maxentius). One could
imagine, for instance, coin issues that celebrated these strategic unions at the time of their contrac-
tion—before the birth of children—that played no role in preparing the way for prospective heirs.
Table 1: Imperial Women’s Titles, 1st–3rd c.

MATER
CASTRORUM
MATER MATER ET SENATUS
NAME AUGUSTA CASTRORUM SENATUS ET PATRIAE OTHER
Livia X Diva
(wife of Augustus)
Antonia Minor
X
(mother of emp. Claudius)
Agrippina the Younger
(wife of Claudius/ mother of X
Nero)
Poppaea
X Diva
(wife of Nero)
Claudia Augusta
X Diva
(daughter of Nero)
Domitilla the Younger
X Diva
(daughter of Vespasian)
Julia Titi
X Diva
(daughter of Titus)
Domitia
X mater Caesaris
(wife of Domitian)
Plotina
X
(wife of Trajan)
Marciana
X Diva
(sister of Trajan)
Matidia
X Diva
(niece of Trajan)
Sabina
X Diva
(wife of Hadrian)
Faustina the Elder
X Diva
(wife of Antoninus Pius)
Faustina the Younger mater Caesaris
X X
(wife of Marcus Aurelius) Diva
Lucilla
X
(wife of Lucius Verus)
Crispina
X X
(wife of Commodus)
Manlia Scantilla
X
(wife of Didius Julianaus)
Didia Clara
X
(daughter of Didius Julianaus)
Julia Domna mater caesarum/
X X X
(wife of Septimius Severus) Augustorum Diva
Table 1: Imperial Women’s Titles, 1st–3rd c. (continued)

MATER
CASTRORUM
MATER MATER ET SENATUS
NAME AUGUSTA CASTRORUM SENATUS ET PATRIAE OTHER
Plautilla
X
(wife of Caracalla)
Julia Cornelia Paula
X
(1st wife of Elagabalus)
Aquilia Severa
(2nd and 4th wife of X
Elagabalus)
Julia Soaemias
Clarissima
(mother of Elagabalus)
Julia Maesa
(grandmother of Elagabalus X X Diva
and Alex. Sev.)
Julia Mamaea
(mother of Alexander X
Severus)
Orbiana
X sanctissima
(wife of Alexander Severus)
pia/piissima Diva
Caecilia Paulina (deceased upon
X
(wife of Maximinus Thrax) Maximinus’
accession)
Tranquillina
X sanctissima
(wife of Gordian III)
Otacilia Severa mater Caesaris/
X X
(wife of Philip the Arab) mater Augusti
Herennia Etruscilla Sanctissima
X X
(wife of Tajan Decius) Mater Augg
Mariniana
(wife of Valerian/ mother of X Diva
Gallienus)
Cornelia Supra
X
(wife of Aemilian)
Cornelia Salonina Sanctissima
X X X
(wife of Gallienus) domina
Ulpia Severina pia/piissima
X X X
(wife of Aurelian) domina
Magnia Urbica X X
(wife of Carinus)
succession does not necessarily obviate the symbolic effect of the empress,
and so we must dig deeper. It seems that none of the supposed impediments
to the use of the imperial family for ideological effect was insurmountable;
instead, the lack of reference to imperial women under the rulers of the First
and Second Tetrarchies seems to have been purposeful and to signal more
than a reticence to mark out blood heirs for the purposes of controlled suc-
cession. We should acknowledge that suppression of imperial women in the
public realm was an equally valid political choice with its own ideological
implications. Starting from this premise and recalling the range of politically
advantageous messages the Roman emperor could convey through his family,
it is possible to draw some tentative conclusions about the kinds of messages
the First and Second Tetrarchies aimed to avoid in remaining silent regarding
their natural families.
A Purposeful Silence?
It has long been argued that in the later Roman Empire imperial self-presen-
tation shifted dramatically from the examples set by earlier generations of
Roman rulers. Archaeological and literary evidence suggests that the Tetrar-
chic emperors, with the adoption of the divine signa Iovius and Herculius, the
introduction of extraordinarily abstract portrait types, and the increasingly
theatrical aspects of their court attire and ceremony,79 marked themselves out
as removed from and superior to the world of non-imperial Romans. To this
we might add the interpretation proposed above that aspects of visual and
verbal media, including the famous Tetrarchic group in Venice and others like
it, sought to characterize the emperors as part of a miraculous all-male fam-
ily unit bound by blood relation and a shared character of otherworldliness.
Gone were the days of the imperial conceit of “first among equals,” instead
replaced by imperial propaganda intent on emphasizing the emperors’ unique,
quasi-divine position in Roman society.80 The silence of the archaeological
and literary sources about the families of the Tetrarchs prior to Constantius’
death, it turns out, accords well with these trends.
As mentioned above, the choice for a group of rulers who came to power
without the benefits of dynastic legitimization and who may have had questions
79
On Tetrarchic portraiture see recently Laubscher 1999; Boschung 2006; Effenberger 2013.
On the imperial signa, see Rees 2005; Hekster 2015, 297–300. The ancient sources credit Diocle-
tian with the introduction, or at least the formalization, of the ceremonial greeting known in the
literature as the “adoration of the purple.” For a list of primary sources and discussion of their
relevance to the debate on the origins of the adoratio, see Alföldi 1934, esp. 1–25, 46–72; Stern
1954; Smith 2011. Literary and archaeological sources both point to the elaboration of imperial
regalia in the Tetrarchic period; see Smith 2011, 175–76.
Kolb 2001, 32–40; Smith 2011.
80
about the prudence of dynastic versus merit-based succession to play-down

overt references to their natural families as the source of their legitimacy or of
potential heirs is perhaps not surprising. That is, it is not entirely unexpected
that this particular group of rulers would avoid exploiting their wives for
dynastic purposes. What is unexpected, however, is that contrary to prec-
edent the Tetrarchs chose not to employ the women of their imperial houses
in any of the non-dynastic propagandistic roles outlined above.
But titles for imperial women such as Mater Castrorum, Mater Sena-
tus, and Mater Patriae symbolically invited those groups into the family of
the emperor,81 while the depiction of the emperor as the head of his fam-
ily and the empress as the archetype of a good aristocratic woman’s virtue
encouraged non-imperial Romans to compare themselves with and ultimately
emulate these aspects of the imperial family. Thus, the non-dynastic uses
for empresses’ imagery in court culture all invited the viewer to relate to the
emperor and his family, thereby reinforcing the fiction that the emperor was
none other than a regular—albeit prominent—aristocrat, creating the fanci-
ful notion of a personal relationship between the ruler and his subjects.82
Since other aspects of Tetrarchic ideology indicate that maintaining this myth
was counter to the ideological goals of the moment, the suppression of imag-
ery that would reinforce the emperor’s relatability makes sense. The omitted
empresses of the Tetrarchic age, then, were a significant absence, consciously
backgrounded as a part of an effort to communicate a larger imperial mes-
sage. In seeking to explain away the relevance of empresses under these late
co-rulers prior to the rise of Constantine and Maxentius, this aspect of the
Tetrarchic ideological strategy has been completely overlooked.
Although we know the names and faces of almost every imperial wife from
the time of Augustus up through late antiquity, the Roman empress’ inclusion
in the public image of the ruling regime was not a given. Consideration of the
full range of visual media produced under rulers of the First and Second Tetrar-
chies has served as an instructive case study in this regard. Neither the status
of wife or mother to the emperor, nor mother to the emperor’s children guar-
anteed a woman special titles, nor recognition in state monuments or coinage.
Roman emperors exploited their wives and family for political effect, bringing
members of the imperial family, including empresses and imperial offspring,
into the public light at strategic moments, and only when their inclusion suited
the political needs of the ruling authority. A survey through three centuries’
worth of examples has demonstrated that contrary to common implication,
imperial women’s symbolic potential in the political realm was not exclusively
Boatwright 2003, 265; Hemelrijk 2012, 212; Langford 2013, 23–48; Angelova 2015, 83–84.

81
Fejfer 2008, 368–69, 406.

82
limited to their ability to pave the way for dynastic heirs, but could also speak
to non-dynastic issues as well. Attention to the variety of uses—dynastic
and non-dynastic—for political reference to imperial women has allowed for
fuller contextualization of the Tetrarchic choice to omit empresses from the
ideological realm in the period prior to 306 ce, revealing that this choice was
not solely tied to reticence over undistinguished lineage or prospective succes-
sors, but rather part of a much larger over-arching ideological strategy. As we
move to a new generation of scholarship impacted by developments in gender
studies, we would be well advised to remember to ask not simply, “Where are
the women?” but, “Where are they not, and why not?”
Anne Hunnell Chen

Brown University
Anne _Chen@Brown.edu
References
Aillagon, J.-J., 2008. “Rome and the Barbarians. Identities, Representations,
Exchange and Confrontation (First to Third Centuries).” In Rome and the Bar-
barians: The Birth of a New World, edited by J.-J. Aillagon, 54–57. Milan: Skira.
Alexandridis, A. 2000. “Exklusiv oder bürgernah? Die Frauen des römischen Kai-
serhauses im Bild.” In Die Grenzen der Macht. Zur Rolle der Kaiserfrauen im
antiken Rom, edited by C. Kunst and U. Riemer, 9–28. Stuttgart: Franz Steiner
Verlag.
. 2004. Die Frauen des römischen Kaiserhauses: eine Untersuchung ihrer
bildlichen Darstellung von Livia bis Iulia Domna. Mainz am Rhein: Philipp von
Zabern.
Alföldi, M. 1934. “Die Ausgestaltung des monarchischen Zeremoniells am romischen
Kaiserhof.” Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts, Römische
Abteilung 49: 3–118.
Angelova, D. 2015. Sacred Founders: Women, Men, and Gods in the Discourse
of Imperial Founding, Rome through Early Byzantium. Oakland: University of
California Press.
Banti, A. 1983. I grandi bronzi imperiali. Florence: A. Banti.
Barnes, T. D. 1973. “Lactantius and Constantine.” Journal of Roman Studies 63:
29–46.
. 1981. Constantine and Eusebius. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
. 1982. The New Empire of Diocletian and Constantine. Cambridge, MA:
Harvard University Press.
. 1999. “The Wife of Maximinus.” Classical Philology 94: 459–60.
. 2011. Constantine: Dynasty, Religion and Power in the Later Roman
Empire. Malden: Wiley-Blackwell.
Barrett, A. 1996. Agrippina: Sex, Power, and Politics in the Early Empire. New
Haven: Yale University Press.
Bartman, E. 1998. Portraits of Livia: Imaging the Imperial Woman in Augustan

Rome. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Birley, A. 1997. Hadrian: The Restless Emperor. London: Routledge.
Boatwright, M. T. 1991. “The Imperial Women of the Early Second Century A. C.”
American Journal of Philology 112: 513–40.
. 2000. “Just Window Dressing? Imperial Women as Architectural Sculp-
ture.” In I, Claudia II: Women in Roman Art and Society, edited by D. Kleiner
and S. Matheson, 61–75. Austin: University of Texas Press.
. 2003. “Faustina the Younger ‘Mater Castrorum.’” In Les femmes antiques
entre sphere privée et sphere publique, edited by R. Frei-Stolba, A. Bielman, and
O. Bianchi, 249–68. Berne: Peter Lang.
Boschung, D. 2002. Gens Augusta: Untersuchungen zu Aufstellung, Wirkung und
Bedeutung der Statuengruppen des julisch-claudischen Kaiserhauses. Mainz am
Rhein: Philipp von Zabern.
. 2006. “Die Tetrarchie als Botschaft der Bildmedien. Zur Visualisierung eines
Herrschaftssystems.” In Die Tetrarchie: Ein neues Regierungssystem und seine
mediale Präsentation, edited by D. Boschung and W. Eck, 349–80. Wiesbaden:
Reichert Verlag.
Bruun, C. 2010. “Matídia die Jüngere—Gesellschaftlicher Einfluss und dynast-
ische Rolle.” In Augustae. Machtbewusste Frauen am römischen Kaiserhof?
Herrschaftsstrukturen und Herrschaftspraxis II. Akten der Tagung in Zürich
18.–20. 9. 2008, edited by A. Kolb, 211–34. Berlin: Akademie Verlag.
Cooper, K. 2007. “Gender and the Fall of Rome.” A Companion to Late Antiquity,
edited by P. Rousseau, 187–200. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell.
Corbier, M. 1991. “Divorce and Adoption as Familial Strategies.” In Marriage,
Divorce, and Children in Ancient Rome, edited by B. Rawson, 49–79. Oxford:
Oxford University Press.
. 1995. “Male Power and Legitimacy Through Women: The Domus Augusta
Under the Julio–Claudians.” In Women in Antiquity: New Assessments, edited
by R. Hawley and B. Levick, 178–93. London: Routledge.
Corcoran, S. 2012. “Grappling with the Hydra: Co-ordination and Conflict in the
Management of Tetrarchic Succession.” In Costantino Prima E Dopo Costan-
tino-Constantine Before and After Constantine, edited by N. Lenski, G. Bona-
mente, and R. Lizzi-Testa, 3–15. Bari: Edipuglia.
Delbrueck, R. 1932. Antike porphyrwerke. Berlin: De Gruyter.
del Bufalo, D. 2012. Porphyry: Red Imperial Porphyry, Power and Religion. New
York: Umberto Allemandi.
Demandt, A. 1989. Die Spätantike: Römische Geschichte von Diocletian bis Justin-
ian, 284–565 n. Chr. (Handbuch der Altertumswissenschatt III). Munich: Beck.
Dessau, H., and E. Klebs 1897. Prosopographia imperii romani saec. I. II. III. Ber-
lin: De Gruyter.
Dillon, S. 2006. “Women on the Columns of Trajan and Marcus Aurelius and the
Visual Language of Roman Victory.” In Representations of War in Ancient
Rome, edited by K. Welch and S. Dillon, 244–71. Cambridge: Cambridge Uni-
versity Press.
Effenberger, A. 2013. “Die Tetrarchengruppen in Venedig—Zu den Problemen ihrer

Datierung und Bestimmung.” In Arte, Storia Restauri della Basilica di San
Marco a Venezia: L’Enigma dei Tetrarchi, edited by I. Favaretto, 49–79. Venice:
Procuratoria di San Marco.
Elliott, B. 2002. “Hadrian’s Women.” In Polybius to Vegetius. Essays on the Roman
army and Hadrian’s Wall presented to Brian Dobson to mark his 70th birthday,
edited by P. Hill, 125–31. Durham: Hadrianic Society.
Fejfer, J. 2008. Roman Portraits in Context (Image and Context 2). Berlin: De
Gruyter.
Ferris, I. M. 2000. Enemies of Rome: Barbarians Through Roman Eyes. Glouces-
tershire: Sutton.
Fittschen, K. 1996. “Courtly Portraits of Women in the Era of the Adoptive Emper-
ors (98–180) and their Reception in Roman Society.” In I, Claudia: Women in
Ancient Rome, edited by D. Kleiner and S. Matheson, 42–52. New Haven: Yale
University Press.
Flory, M. B. 1995. “The Deification of Roman Women.” Ancient History Bulletin
9: 127–39.
Frakes, R. M. 2006. “The Dynasty of Constantine Down to 363.” In The Cambridge
Companion to the Age of Constantine, edited by N. Lenski, 91–110. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press.
Galletier, É. 1949. Panégyriques latins. Texte établi et traduit. Paris: Belles Lettres.
Gardner, J. 1998. Family and Familia in Roman Law and Life. Oxford: Clarendon
Press.
Gorrie, C. 2004. “Julia Domna’s Building Patronage, Imperial Family Roles and the
Severan Revival of Moral Legislation.” Historia 53: 61–72.
Gregori, G. L., and E. Rosso. 2010. “Giulia Augusta, figlia di Tito, nipote di Domi-
ziano.” In Augustae. Machtbewusste Frauen am römischen Kaiserhof? Herr-
schaftsstrukturen und Herrschaftspraxis II. Akten der Tagung in Zürich 18.–20.
9. 2008 Augustae. Machtbewusste Frauen am römischen Kaiserhof? Herrschafts-
strukturen und Herrschaftspraxis II. Akten der Tagung in Zürich 18.–20. 9.
2008, edited by A. Kolb, 193–210. Berlin: Akademie Verlag.
Grunewald, T. 1990. Constantinus Maximus Augustus: Herrschaftspropaganda in
der zeitgenössischen Überlieferung. Stuttgart: Franz Steiner.
Hallett, C. 2005. The Roman Nude: Heroic Portrait Statuary 200 BC–AD 300.
Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Hekster, O. 2002. Commodus: An Emperor at the Crossroads. Amsterdam:
Gieben.
. 2015. Emperors and Ancestors: Roman Rulers and the Constraints of Tradi-
tion. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Hemelrijk, E. 2010. “Fictive Kinship as a Metaphor for Women’s Civic Roles.”
Hermes 138: 455–69.
. 2012. “Fictive Motherhood and Female Authority in Roman Cities.” Eug-
esta 2: 201–20.
Hidalgo de la Vega, M. J. 2012. Las emperatrices romanas. Sueños de púrpura y
poder oculto. Salamanca: Ediciones Universidad de Salamanca.
Holloway, G. G., and R. Ross. 1977. Women of the Caesars: Their Lives and Por-
traits on Coins. Milan: Arte e moneta.
Holscher, T. 2002. The Language of Images in Roman Art. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press.
Humphries, M. 2008. “From Usurper to Emperor: The Politics of Legitimation in the
Age of Constantine.” Journal of Late Antiquity 1: 82–100.
Jones, A. H. M., and J. Morris 1971. Prosopography of the Later Roman Empire:
Volume 1, AD 260–395. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Kampen, N. 2009. Family Fictions in Roman Art. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press.
. 1991. “Between Public and Private: Women as Historical Subjects in Roman
Art.” In Women’s History and Ancient History, edited by S. B. Pomeroy, 218–
48. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press.
Keltanen, M. 2002. “The Public Image of the Four Empresses: Ideal Wives, Mothers
and Regents?” In Women, Wealth, and Power in the Roman Empire, edited by
P. Setälä, 105–46. Rome: Institutum Romanum Finlandiae.
Kienast, D. 2004. Römische Kaisertabelle. Grundzüge einer römischen Kaiserchro-
nologie. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft.
Klein, B. 2000. “Römische Kaiserinnen im 3. Jh.: Furia Sabinia Tranquillina und
Marcia Otacilia Severa—ihr Beitrag zur Herrschaftsstabilisierung des Kaisers.”
In Grenzen der Macht: zur Rolle der römischen Kaiserfrauen, edited by U.
Riemer and C. Kunst, 87–96. Stuttgart: Steiner.
Kleiner, D. 1978. “The Great Friezes of the Ara Pacis Augustae: Greek Sources,
Roman Derivatives and Augustan Social Policy.” Mélanges de l’École Française
de Rome, Antiquité 90: 753–85.
. 1981. “Second-century Mythological Portraiture: Mars and Venus.” Lato-
mus 40: 512-544.
. 2001. “Now You See Them, Now You Don’t: The Presence and Absence of
Women in Roman Art.” In From Caligula to Constantine: Tyranny & Transfor-
mation in Roman Portraiture, edited by E. R. Varner, 45–57. Atlanta: Michael
C. Carlos Museum.
Kolb, A., ed. 2010a. Augustae. Machtbewusste Frauen am römischen Kaiserhof?
Herrschaftsstrukturen und Herrschaftspraxis II. Akten der Tagung in Zürisch
18.–20.9.2008. Berlin: Akademie Verlag.
. 2010b. “Augustae—Zielsetzung, Definition, prosopographischer Überblick.”
Augustae. Machtbewusste Frauen am römischen Kaiserhof? Herrschaftsstruk-
turen und Herrschaftspraxis II. Akten der Tagung in Zürich 18.–20. 9. 2008,
edited by A. Kolb, 11–36. Berlin: Akademie Verlag.
Kolb, F. 2001. Herrscherideologie in der Spätantike. Studienbücher Geschichte und
Kultur der Alten Welt. Berlin: Akademie Verlag.
Kuhoff, W. 1993. “Zur Titulatur der römischen Kaiserinnen während der Prinzipats-
zeit,” Klio 75: 246–56.
Kunst, C. 2001. “Die Rolle der römischen Kaiserfrau: Eine Einleitung.” In Grenzen
der Macht: zur Rolle der römischen Kaiserfrauen, edited by U. Riemer and C.
Kunst, 1–6. Stuttgart: Steiner.
2010. “Patronage / Matronage der Augustae.” In Augustae. Machtbewusste

Frauen am römischen Kaiserhof? Herrschaftsstrukturen und Herrschaftspraxis
II. Akten der Tagung in Zürich 18.–20. 9. 2008, edited by A. Kolb, 145–61.
Berlin: Akademie Verlag.
Langford, J. 2013. Maternal Megalomania: Julia Domna and the Imperial Politics
of Motherhood. Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press.
Laubscher, H. 1999. “Beobachtung zu tetrarchischen Kaiserbildnissen aus Porphyr.”
Jahrbuch des Deutschen Archaeologischen Instituts 114: 207–52.
Leadbetter, W. 2009. Galerius and the Will of Diocletian. New York: Routledge.
Lenski, N. 2006. “The Reign of Constantine.” In The Cambridge Companion to
the Age of Constantine, edited by N. Lenski, 59–90. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press.
Leppin, H. 2002. “Rückblick und Ausblick,” Die Kaiserinnen Roms: Von Livia bis
Theodora, edited by H. Vitzthum, 482–95. Munich: Beck.
Lusnia, S. 1995. “Julia Domna’s Coinage and Severan Dynastic Propaganda.” Lato-
mus 54: 119–40.
Mackay, C. 1999. “Lactantius and the Succession to Diocletian.” Classical Philology
94: 198–209.
Malgouyres, P. 2004. Porphyre: La Pierre Pourpre des Ptolemees aux Bonaparte.
Paris: Reunion des Musees Nationaux.
Marsden, A. B. 1997. “Between Principate and Dominate: Imperial Styles Under the
Severan Dynasty and the Divine Iconography of the Imperial House on Coins,
Medallions, and Engraved Gemstones A.D. 193–235.” Journal of the British
Archaeological Association 150: 1–16.
Mattingly, H. and E. A. Sydenham. 1936. Gordian III—Uranus Antoninus, vol. 4/3:
The Roman Imperial Coinage. London: Spink.
. 1968. Probus to Amandus. Volume V, part 2. The Roman Imperial Coinage.
London: Spink.
Morelli, A. L. 2010. “Augustae come madri sulle monete.” In Augustae. Machtbe-
wusste Frauen am römischen Kaiserhof? Herrschaftsstrukturen und Herrschaft-
spraxis II. Akten der Tagung in Zürich 18.–20. 9. 2008, edited by A. Kolb,
129–44. Berlin: Akademie Verlag.
Nixon, C. E. V., and B. S. Rodgers, 1994. In Praise of Later Roman Emperors.
The Panegyrici Latini: Introduction, Translation, and Historical Commen-
tary, with the Latin Text of R. A. B. Mynors. Berkeley: University of California
Press.
Packer, J. 2001. The Forum of Trajan in Rome: A Study of the Monuments in Brief.
Berkeley: University of California Press.
Pond Rothman, M. S. 1977. “The Thematic Organization of the Panel Reliefs on the
Arch of Galerius.” American Journal of Archaeology 81: 427–54.
Priwitzer, S. 2009. Faustina minor—Ehefrau eines Idealkaisers und Mutter eines
Tyrannen: Quellenkritische Untersuchungen zum dynastischen Potential, zur
Darstellung und zu Handlungsspielräumen von Kaiserfrauen im Prinzipat. Bonn:
Habelt.
Rees, R. 2005. “The Emperors’ New Names.” In Herakles and Hercules. Exploring
Graeco–Roman Divinity, edited by H. Bowden and L. Rawlings, 223–39. Swan-
sea: The Classical Press of Wales.
Ricciardi, R. A. 2007. “Where Did All the Women Go: The Archaeology of the Sol-
dier Empresses.” Ph.D. dissertation: University of Cincinnati.
Rose, C. B. 1997. Dynastic Commemoration and Imperial Portraiture in the Julio–
Claudian Period. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Saavedra-Guerrero, M. D. 2006. “Imagen, mito y realidad en el reinado de Septimio
Severo. Julia Domna y la virtus en la familia imperial.” Athenaeum 94: 95–103.
Schade, K. 2000. “Die bildliche Repräsentation der römischen Kaiserin zwischen
Prinzipat und Byzanz.” In Grenzen der Macht: zur Rolle der römischen Kaiser-
frauen, edited by U. Riemer and C. Kunst, 41–53. Stuttgart: Steiner.
. 2003. Frauen in der Spätantike, Status und Repräsentation: eine Untersu-
chung zur römischen und frühbyzantinischen Bildniskunst. Mainz am Rhein:
Philipp von Zabern.
Scheidel, W. 2011. “Monogamy and Polygyny.” In A Companion to Families in
the Greek and Roman Worlds, edited by B. Rawson, 109–15. Malden, MA:
Wiley-Blackwell.
Smith, R. 2011. “Measures of Difference: The Fourth Century Transformation of the
Roman Imperial Court.” American Journal of Philology 132: 125–51.
Smith, R. R. R. 2013. The Marble Reliefs from the Julio–Claudian Sebasteion.
Mainz: Philipp von Zabern.
Späth, T. 2000. “Agrippina minor. Frauenbild als Diskurskonzept.” In Grenzen
der Macht: zur Rolle der römischen Kaiserfrauen, edited by U. Riemer and C.
Kunst, 115–33. Stuttgart: Steiner.
Stephanidou-Tiveriou, T. 1995. To mikro toxo tou Galeriou ste Thessalonike. Ath-
ens: He en Athenais Archaiologike Hetaireia.
Stern, H. 1954. “Remarks on the ‘Adoratio’ under Diocletian.” Journal of the War-
burg and Courtauld Institutes 17: 184–89.
Sutherland C. H. V., and R. A. G. Carson. 1967. From Diocletian’s Reform (A.D.
294) to the Death of Maximus (A.D. 313). Volume VI. The Roman Imperial
Coinage. London: Spink.
Temporini, H. 1978. Die Frauen am Hofe Trajans. Ein Beitrag zur Stellung der
Augustae im Principat. Berlin: De Gruyter.
Varner, E. 1995. “Domitia Longina and the Politics of Portraiture.” American Jour-
nal of Archaeology 99: 187–206.
. 2001. “Portraits, Plots, and Politics. Damnatio Memoriae and the Im-
ages of Imperial Women.” Memoirs of the American Academy in Rome 46:
41–93.
. 2004. Mutilation and Transformation: damnatio memoriae and Roman
Imperial Portraiture (Monumenta Graeca et Romana 10). Leiden: Brill.
Vogt–Lüerssen, M. 2002. Neros Mutter: Agrippina die Jüngere und ihre Zeit.
Mainz–Kostheim: Probst.
Williams, S. 1985. Diocletian and the Roman Recovery. London: BT Batsford.
Wood, S. 1999. Imperial Women: A Study in Public Images, 40 B.C.–A.D. 68. Mne-
mosyne, bibliotheca classica Batava. Supplementum 194. Leiden: Brill.
Wright, W. C. 1913. The Works of Emperor Julian, vol. 1. London: Heineman.
Zanker, P. 2002a. “I barbari, l’imperatore e l’arena. Immagini di violenza nell’arte
romana.” In Un’arte per l’impero. Funzione e intenzione delle immagini nel
mondo romano, edited by E. Polito and P. Zanker, 38–62. Milan: Electra.
Zanker, P. 2002b. “Le donne e i bambini barbari sui rilievi della Colonna Aureli-
ana.” In Un’arte per l’impero. Funzione e intenzione delle immagini nel mondo
romano, edited by E. Polito and P. Zanker, 63–78. Milan: Electra.

Chen, Omitted Empresses. The (Non-) Role of Imperial Women in Tetrarchic Propaganda (2018)

Uploaded by

Document Information

Original Description:

Original Title

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

Chen, Omitted Empresses. The (Non-) Role of Imperial Women in Tetrarchic Propaganda (2018)

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

Omitted Empresses: The (Non-)Role of Imperial Women in

Anne Hunnell Chen

Published by Johns Hopkins University Press

For additional information about this article

Nefertiti in Egypt, Marie Antoinette in France, Maria Luisa in Spain, Kate

Tetrarchic Empresses: The Ties that Bound?

The exact date of Maximian’s marriage to Eutropia remains uncertain—particularly since

the Caesares’ marriages thus functioned to establish familial bonds between

fact been linked by both blood and marriage ties.

tius, see Barnes 2011, 176–78.

Leadbetter 2009, 204–5; Corcoran 2012, 8.

sources, undermines to some extent the conclusions Lactantius’ account tempts

and Rodgers 1994, 178–90; Barnes 2011, 55–56, 68–70.

An Unexpected Absence of Empresses

Hekster 2015, 280–314.

Pan. Lat. 8.1.3, 8.13.2, 9.8.1.

Pan. Lat. 9.8.1.

Pan. Lat. 8.1.3.

Pan. Lat. 9.6.2.

ial relationships between the co-rulers, see Hekster 2015, 277–314.

Pan. Lat. 7.2.1, 3.3, 6.1,14.7.

Figure 3: Two groups of embracing Tetrarchic emperors from

added to the otherworldly effect. Prior to the Tetrarchic period, porphyry

generated by the court as well as bottom-up flattery that eschewed facts to

Making the Most of Imperial Women:

Connecting Important Men

reigning emperor’s blood heir(s), and a reassuring gesture to the public to

Klein 2000, 93; Keltanen 2002, 118, 124; Schade 2003, 9; Fejfer 2008, 272–73.

Figure 4: Portrait of Domitia Longina. Figure 5: Private woman styled as Domitia

Figure 6: Portrait of Julia Domna. Figure 7: Portrait of a private woman

Policing Behavior and Defining Identity

Angelova 2015, 84–86.

Angelova 2015, 86–107.

Alexandridis 2004, 18–28; Langford 2013, 31–48.

non-imperial persons to compare themselves with members of the imperial

superior ability as Romans to control their passions.61 Control of one’s behav-

Pond Rothman 1977, 423, 447 n. 39.

marriage for Romans was emphatically monogamous,64 the inclusion of the

Evaluating Justifications for the Tetrarchic

See, for instance, Kunst 2001, 3.

Domna as Mater Castorurm, see Langford 2013, 36–48.

Alexandridis 2000, 24; Boatwright 2003.

Kleiner 2001, 55; Varner 2001, 85; Varner 2004, 221.

Schade 2003, 17, 43; Hekster 2015, 283.

Kienast 2004, 236–37; Ricciardi 2007, 286–309.

Table 1: Imperial Women’s Titles, 1st–3rd c.

Table 1: Imperial Women’s Titles, 1st–3rd c. (continued)

about the prudence of dynastic versus merit-based succession to play-down

Boatwright 2003, 265; Hemelrijk 2012, 212; Langford 2013, 23–48; Angelova 2015, 83–84.

Fejfer 2008, 368–69, 406.

Anne Hunnell Chen

Bartman, E. 1998. Portraits of Livia: Imaging the Imperial Woman in Augustan

Effenberger, A. 2013. “Die Tetrarchengruppen in Venedig—Zu den Problemen ihrer

2010. “Patronage / Matronage der Augustae.” In Augustae. Machtbewusste

You might also like