American Journal of Philology

It is now well-established that, through various media, imperial propaganda was aimed at different groups in Roman society. Ever since Jaś Elsner’s influential publication (Art and the Roman Viewer: The Transformation of Art from the Pagan World to Christianity [Cambridge 1995]), scholars have also widely acknowledged that one should always reckon with the role of “the viewer” when studying processes of communication. Yet it remains difficult to find ways of measuring viewers’ responses to imperial messages, in particular when it concerns imperial [End Page 678] women, for whom we have far less evidence than for the male protagonists of Roman imperial history. Julie Langford’s study of the representation of Julia Domna and the way in which her image as a mother was perceived by the military, the Populus Romanus, and the Senate is, therefore, a much needed scholarly enterprise. By choosing this approach, the author builds on the model of the Principate as an “acceptance system,” first introduced by Egon Flaig in 1992 (Den Kaiser herausfordern: die Usurpation im römischen Reich [Frankfurt]), although this influence remains implicit as Flaig’s text is not mentioned in the introduction nor is it included in the bibliography. In this monograph, which is explicitly not intended as a biography in search of the “real” Julia Domna, Langford aims at examining the ideological negotiations that took place between image-makers.

In chapter 1 (“Not Your Momma. Problematizing Julia Domna as the Mater Castrorum”), the author sets out to examine the relationship between the military and Julia Domna by means of a study of ideological discourses on the presence of women in a military context up to the time of Septimius Severus, the conferral of the title Mater Castrorum on Faustina Minor and Julia Domna, and the reactions to the latter by different groups within the army (one should also consult M.A. Speidel’s “Faustina—mater castrorum. Ein Beitrag zur Religionsgeschichte,” Tyche 27 [2012]: 127–52, which probably appeared too late for the author to take into account). She concludes that, contrary to what is often assumed, the title of “Mother of the Camps” was not granted to tighten or emphasize the connection between empresses and the army, but was instead aimed at the people of Rome and the provinces. For by creating the image of a familial connection between the soldiers and the imperial house, and thus implying that the military would support and protect their imperial “mother,” her husband, and her sons, the inhabitants of the Roman Empire would be discouraged from starting an uprising. The arguments that are put forward by the author are twofold. On the one hand, inscriptions, coins, and literary sources indicate that the military did not constitute a well-defined target of imperial propaganda with regard to Julia Domna’s military representations. For instance, less than 6 percent of the dedications to the empress studied by the author were set up by soldiers. In addition, although the Roman mint produced coins that advertised the empress’ title of Mater Castrorum from 196 onwards, this practice was not extended to the eastern traveling mints, which are often assumed to have been fundamental for the distribution of salaries or donations and, consequently, would have been a logical starting point for spreading ideological messages. On the other hand, the author pays attention to the poor reputation of Julia Domna within the army, focusing above all on the figures of Plautianus and Julius Crispus (38–44), and sees this as an indication of the initial reluctance of the soldiers to associate the empress with anything connected to the military sphere, including the acknowledgment of Julia Domna as “their mother.” The first argument in particular is convincing, since—even though the author admits that much remains unproven with regard to the role of eastern mints—the combination of epigraphic and numismatic source material shows that messages sent out by the imperial administration...