Between the late second and the early fourth century CE, several empresses received the title Mater Castrorum, either in official documents, inscriptions, and coinage or in unofficial honorific or dedicatory inscriptions erected by subjects. Scholars have assumed the title was indicative of a tight-knit relationship between the empresses and the soldiers. Recent studies of the numismatic and epigraphic evidence, however, have demonstrated that, at least in the cases of the early Matres Castrorum, the title was not descriptive of an actual relationship with the military. These studies argue it was the product of dynastic propaganda that prepared a smooth path for successors. Given this new, demonstrated understanding of the title’s original purpose this chapter investigates how the title fits into ideologies that emperors “negotiated” with the constituencies in the Empire. Based on the evidence, we conclude that the meaning and use of the Mater Castrorum title changed over time according to the agenda of those who employed it. The evolution of the title is not surprising, but as with so many aspects of investigations into women and the military, the complexities of its use have not previously been conceived of in this way.

Writing which informs, influences and impresses requires a series of key components. They include the start and end of a piece of content, its style (often known as the voice, or character, of the writing), the critical details of who, what, why, where, when and how, and also an appealing title.

This book opens with some introductory notes on the two ecumenical synods, marking the discrepancy between their importance in the festival world of the Principate and the obscurity they have fallen into in present-day scholarship. This is mainly due to the extremely fragmentary source material on their history and organisation. The ecumenical synods are mainly known from inscriptions, often heavily damaged, and papyri from Egypt. These diverse sources present us with a complex and often contradictory view. The most important documents for this study are decrees drawn up by the synods, their correspondence with emperors and membership certificates. A great variety in names and titles further complicates our understanding of the synods. Nevertheless, there are a number of basic elements that recur in the documents promulgated by the synods themselves, which are discussed briefly. The final part of the introduction sets out the structure of the book as well as the basic principles that form the core of the argumentation.

This final chapter explores mirror-writers’ diagnoses of political and social ills, and their proposed remedies for them. They range from kings’ propensities to indulge to excess in food, drink and sex, to the hazards of abandoning well-established and highly regarded practices, to external enemies’ seizing advantage at moments of internal weakness. The three extracts show shared concerns, especially with heterodoxy, portrayed as a mask for political dissent, as well as idiosyncratic concerns. Many of the narratives are presented as cautionary examples. Collectively, the texts convey the precarious nature of royal power and its limits. They are drawn from al-Thaʿālibī, Ādāb al-mulūk; Niẓām al-Mulk, Siyar al-mulūk; and al-Ṭurṭūshī, Sirāj al-mulūk.

Chapter 5 looks at the failed epistolary exchanges in Epidicus and Trinummus. When these plays’ letters are sabotaged by the complicated workings of epistolary time, the plots inscribed within disappear, making them the apparent opposite of the embedded texts explored in earlier chapters. Rather than mise-en-abymes that reflect back upon the comedy a copy of itself, the letters in Epidicus and Trinummus represent dramatic alternatives to the present performance whose rejection is reified via the epistolary motif. Neither play, then, is strictly a letter play. But by the textual eschewal which diverts each comedy’s plot onto a different (or seemingly different) course, both Epidicus and Trinummus demonstrate the metatheatrical and metapoetic valences of the letters in Plautus.

Part I, ‘Hearing Subjects’, turns attention to Robert Schumann, addressing the composer’s early grappling with the Romantic problematisation of subjectivity and personal identity frequently present in his music of the 1830s and early 1840s. In ‘Hearing the Self’, I trace the historical development of subjectivity in music up to Schumann’s time, before turning to an early and notable exemplification of the composer’s practice in Carnaval. This forms the starting point for a more detailed consideration of the ways in which a sense of subjectivity can be manifested in Schumann’s piano music of the 1830s, including such features as allusiveness, idiosyncrasy, interiority, a fantasy principle in connexion of moods, and the questioning of continuity and coherence. Finally, I look at the sense of subjectivity conveyed in Schumann’s concertos and the sense in which they collapse distinctions between self and world.

Titles and forms of address are discussed in this chapter.

This chapter selects some of the plentiful epigraphic evidence for women of the imperial family, ranging from the relatives of the emperor Augustus to the empresses of the Severan dynasty in the early third century AD. Starting with two prominent women of leading Republican families, who may be considered as forerunners of the women of the imperial family, the inscriptions are grouped together under three headings: life, death and deeds; titles and cult; wealth and staff. By throwing light on their public image, their public titles, such as mother of the army camps, their personal staff and their economic undertakings, inscriptions allow a more dispassionate view of imperial women vilified by the ancient literary authors, such as Livia, Messalina and Agrippina Minor, and shed some light on empresses neglected by the literary sources, such as the Matidias and Sabina. Inscriptions also attest to the friendship and benefactions of indivual empresses and the way they were presented as models for (female) citizens. In contrast to the deification and cult of some empresses, inscriptions also testify to the posthumous damnatio memoriae of other imperial women or their relatives.

The vast majority of manumitted female palace slaves who left the imperial harem later married. Just as the Enderun prepared men to serve the dynasty outside the palace, the protocol, etiquette, and training provided to female slaves in the imperial harem prepared them for their future role in the outside world. Chapter 3 examines the women’s marriage patterns and asks the question: To what extent did palace affiliation impact their marriages? An analysis of the social and professional profile of the husbands shows that a great majority of the women married members of the askeri class, and that these marriages had strategic and symbolic importance for the imperial household. It traces the implications of their marriages for the women themselves, for their husbands, and for the imperial court in the sociopolitical context of the era. The chapter demonstrates that by way of marriage, women’s affiliation to the imperial court took on a different form, and they continued to play a role, albeit a new one, in the political structure.

A shout of “Come here, boy” treats its target as both male and inferior. An adult man brought into a linguistic exchange by that direct address (vocative) is thereby shoved beneath the shouter, positioned below them. ‘Racial etiquette’ once made boy a common address from white people to black men, who were expected/required to return deferential or respectful forms of address like sir or ma’am. Work on European languages with grammatically singular and plural second-person pronouns that now function mainly to position those being addressed (called T/V, as in French tu and vous) has explored two distinct axes of social position influencing address, power and solidarity. Power is nonreciprocal, solidarity goes in both directions. English now has only grammatically plural you as a direct address pronoun, but it has other address resources people use to position one another: given and family names, endearments, mock insults, professional titles, kinship terms, and more. Nicknaming asserts power, which may be affectionate (e.g., a fond parent’s pet name for their child) or coercive. Addressing is part of a larger system of linguistic (im)politeness involved in interactions. Large data studies found police (no matter what their own racial identity) speaking more politely to white than to black motorists during traffic stops.

For a society to be labelled “complex” in the conventional sense it must be one touched by processes of institutionalisation, requiring that structure be embodied in designated ranks and roles. Those positions can be ascribed or achieved, distinguishing between those positions gained by birth-right and those by selection or competition.1 A role may require certain experience, skills, or specialised knowledge that is actively learnt, but like status exists only within a matrix of human relations – no lone person can stand resplendent as king or queen. Titles, therefore, serve to specify two, sometimes overlapping, purposes, defining aristocratic privileges as well as functional specialisations. These political personas need to be maintained and communicated through the medium of symbols (e.g. Cohen 1974, 1981). Elite distinction is most often expressed by special insignia or attire, but it can include everything from subtle codes of etiquette to grandiose architectural statements. Where items can be fashioned from rare and exotic materials, or highly charged with artistry and aesthetic value, the projection of eminence will be all the more effective (Clark 1986; Robb 1999; Joyce 2000).