Melania: Early Christianity through the Life of One Family

Introduction

Catherine M. Chin and Caroline T. Schroeder

The Roman aristocrats Melania the Elder (ca. 341–ca. 410) and her granddaughter Melania the Younger (ca. 385–ca. 439) are startling, glittering, and disturbing figures in the early history of Christianity. From the accounts that have come down to us, they were famous, or notorious, in their own lifetimes for dramatic acts of self-definition and self-denial, acts that sometimes placed them at odds with the expectations of their aristocratic peers but that sometimes fulfilled those expectations so completely that these two women became, in essence, peerless. This book explores the alternation between these oppositions and fulfillments, and between acts and expectations, that historians of early Christianity now see in the careers of the two famous Melanias. They were two of the wealthiest people in human history; they counted monks, miracle workers, bishops, and empresses as their companions; their influence and their property spread across the Mediterranean from Spain to Africa to Turkey. The events that made up the lives of Melania the Elder and Melania the Younger could be used to write many different kinds of stories about the later Roman Empire; in this book we use their lives to survey the dense and surprising landscape that was the early Christian world. Our project is to consider the relationship between the lives and times of two early Christians and the larger social and cultural forces that were at work in the fourth and fifth centuries, which together created the complex sets of artifacts, ideas, and behaviors that we call early Christianity.

The early Christianity that we consider in this book takes shape during a period that has come to be defined by scholars since the 1970s as late antiquity: a set of historical moments between the third and the seventh centuries that was marked by profound novelties in tension with a tenacious traditionalism. New institutions, such as the Christian monastery, erupted onto the scene, where others, such as the Roman Senate, calcified. Still others, including church offices and clerical hierarchies, repeatedly changed: first as Christianity was brought into the public religious landscape by the emperor Constantine (d. 337) and over and over again in the wake of regional power shifts, theological schisms, and the politico-military disruptions sometimes described as the fall of the Roman Empire in the West. Throughout this period, the Christian elite became firmly ensconced in all levels of government, leaving their monumental traces alongside the more modest remains of everyday Christians caught up in the tides of empire. Pilgrims crisscrossed the Mediterranean in new forms of sacred travel, seeking holy people and holy places whose stories fired their imaginations, while others crossed land and sea either to become holy people themselves, in Syria, Palestine, and Egypt, or to fight as soldiers in the Roman army. An abundance of sermons, letters, liturgical books, artifacts, and architectural remains testifies to the hardships and pleasures of this daily life, expressions of lay piety that bubbled to the surface, visible to any historian, archaeologist, or theologian surveying the field. Prayer practices, devotion to the saints, sartorial advice, child-rearing principles, charitable giving, and more all appear in our sources.

Along with these everyday concerns, ardent debates over the very definition of Christianity characterized late antiquity and shaped the Melanias’ world. The first Ecumenical Council of Nicaea, in 325 C.E., crafted a creed declaring that the Son of God and God the Father were of one substance, but late ancient Christians themselves were never of one mind. The Council of Constantinople in 381, which affirmed and expanded upon the creed established at Nicaea, exposed the fissures of belief between clerics and laity alike. Further disagreements over the relationship between Jesus Christ’s divinity and humanity quickly spread beyond individual antagonists (such as Cyril, the powerful bishop of Alexandria, and Nestorius, bishop of the imperial capital in Constantinople) and turned into a cluster of disputes known as the Nestorian controversy. The disputed resolutions of these debates in the councils of Ephesus, in 431, and of Chalcedon, in 451, as well as the resulting ecclesiastical divisions, reverberate to this day. Debates about the nature of humanity itself also run through this period. We see Augustine of Hippo refining his argument about original sin and the flawed nature of the human will during what is known as the Pelagian controversy. As fourth- and fifth-century interpreters of the Alexandrian theologian Origen popularized a doctrine that human souls once existed as intellects with God and would eventually return to heaven in a bodiless resurrection, the ensuing Origenist controversy engulfed monk and cleric alike from the deserts of Egypt to the capital cities of Rome and Constantinople. In the midst of all this, such figures as the influential biblical scholar and ascetic Jerome of Stridon (d. 419) worked, networked, and crafted genres of Christian writing that would eventually inspire the humanism of the Renaissance.

Melania the Younger and Melania the Elder moved within this web of institutions, conflicts, and controversies; they were friends, patrons, and sometimes enemies of nearly all the major figures involved in these transformative times. This book positions these women as central figures in the history, religion, and politics of early Christianity and explores how their legacies were crafted and deployed in their historical and literary afterlives. These chapters also consider the systemic constraints on even the most powerful early Christian women in the management of their accomplishments, reputations, and influences. But even more, this book reverses the lens of typical historical investigation. Beyond examining the Melanias in their contexts of gender, religion, and history, the book as a collective volume asks what early Christianity looks like through Melanian lenses. The stakes in this work are high, especially for women. As the chapters demonstrate, from the moments of the Melanias’ deaths up to modern times in America and Egypt, male writers have sought to use the Melanias to shape subsequent people’s piety and power, particularly women’s.

We begin here by setting out some of the issues at stake in writing history as an interaction between individual people and larger social and cultural systems; we then turn to how the different chapters of the book illuminate these issues.

GREAT AND SMALL: THE BOUNDARIES OF HISTORY

For many of us whose understanding of early Christian history comes primarily from texts, the outsized presence of writers like Augustine or Jerome, who hold our attention with their individual voices, can sometimes blind us to how late ancient people functioned not strictly as individuals but as smaller actors within larger sets of relationships. Families, genealogies, cities, religious communities, and friendship networks are only a few of the larger structures within which late ancient people came into being.¹ These individual human figures were temporary, small-scale pinpoints within larger systems as much as they were what we would call, simply, people. Melania the Elder and Melania the Younger occupied specific social, economic, and familial locations, certainly; but by describing late ancient people as being themselves mobile and changeable locations—active locations within a much larger environment, as it were—we can more clearly see the large-scale forces and external entities that allowed them to emerge as the figures that we recognize them to be. We can choose to focus on them as powerful and idiosyncratic individuals, or we can choose to focus on the way that their individual lives are the products and expressions of much larger historical trends and institutions. What would the Melanias have been without the emergence of Christianity? What would they have been without the traditions of the Roman Empire? Within the long history of these larger institutions, the Melanias are small, if colorful, people, stubbornly situated, as all people are, in a limited time and in a particular set of places. In this book, we wish to try to understand how these two extraordinary women were both prominent individual characters in their own worlds and at the same time small representatives of larger historical forces. In order to lay the groundwork for refocusing our historical gaze on the small and the large together, let us tell an outline of the story of the Melanias in a traditional historical sense before considering how they appear, or disappear, in their larger environments.

The main sources for the life of Melania the Elder are Palladius’s Lausiac History and the bishop and poet Paulinus of Nola’s Letter 29, along with briefer references from the ascetic writer Jerome.² From these a rough outline can be pieced together:³ Melania the Elder was born around the year 340 or 341 in Spain, into the illustrious gens Antonia (making her a very distant relation of Mark Antony); as a sign of her family’s political status, her paternal grandfather, Antonius Marcellinus, was consul in 341. Melania married young, probably in her early or mid-teens, as was typical for aristocratic Roman girls, and she married well: it is possible but not certain that her husband was Valerius Maximus, who was urban prefect in Rome in 361–62. Melania was, however, widowed at the age of twenty-one, after having borne three children, two of whom died in childhood. Around 362 Melania relocated to Rome herself, perhaps to secure the public career of her remaining son, Valerius Publicola.⁴ In 373 or 374, however, she left Rome to become more engaged with the growing Christian ascetic movement in Egypt and Palestine, and over the next several years, along with the writer and monastic pioneer Rufinus of Aquileia (ca. 345–411), she founded and helped to guide men’s and women’s ascetic communities on the Mount of Olives, outside Jerusalem. Among the many ascetics whom she supported in this period was the brilliant Evagrius of Pontus (ca. 345–99), who had abandoned a prominent civic career in Constantinople and became the major theoretician of an asceticism steeped in the third-century theology of Origen of Alexandria. Melania’s public support for this theology earned her the outspoken ire of Jerome and his anti-Origenist network during the Origenist controversy of the 390s and early 400s. In 400, Melania returned to Rome and, according to Palladius, persuaded her granddaughter Melania the Younger and Melania the Younger’s husband, Valerius Pinianus, to take up the ascetic life in their turn; she likely also persuaded them to oppose the anti-Origenists in Rome.⁵ Palladius writes that after this, Melania the Elder returned to Jerusalem and fell asleep at a fine old age;⁶ the date of her death is unknown.

The life of Melania the Younger, in turn, is richly narrated in the mid-fifth-century hagiography usually attributed to her follower Gerontius, and Palladius also includes Melania the Younger in his Lausiac History after his longer account of her grandmother’s career.⁷ Melania the Younger was born around 385, the daughter of Melania the Elder’s son Valerius Publicola and his wife, Albina, who was in turn the daughter of Ceionius Rufius Albinus, urban prefect in 389–91. According to Gerontius, at a young age Melania resisted the wishes of her parents to marry, but eventually she acquiesced and married Valerius Pinianus (Pinian), who was the son of Valerius Severus, the urban prefect for 382. Melania bore two children who died in infancy, and, Gerontius tells us, the children’s deaths served as the turning point at which Melania and Pinian both agreed to take up a life of renunciation.⁸ In 408 or 409, Melania and Pinian liquidated much of their property in Italy and traveled to North Africa, where they stayed for seven years; in so doing they left an Italy that was under threat from the Visigoth Alaric’s troops, and Gerontius suggests that providence inspired their departure from Rome before the Visigothic sack of the city in 410.⁹ While in North Africa, they gave financial support to other refugees from Italy as well as to monastic communities and churches, partly under the guidance of Augustine of Hippo and his fellow North African bishops.¹⁰ After seven years in Africa, they moved on to Palestine and Jerusalem and began to support ascetic communities there. Pinian died in 431 or 432, but Melania the Younger continued a program of support and foundation of ascetic institutions around Jerusalem. In 437, she traveled to the imperial city of Constantinople, ostensibly to convert her maternal uncle, Volusianus, from paganism to Christianity, and she returned to Jerusalem after Volusianus’s death. Melania herself died at the end of December, probably in the year 439.

These biographical sketches show the reader two identifiable human beings whose lives were delineated in large part through their own autonomous actions and decisions. There is an attractive simplicity to such stripped-down narratives, stories that, following modern historical conventions, reject what strike modern readers as the more baroque, fantastical, supernatural elements of late ancient hagiography: the miracles performed, the acts of spiritual heroism, the visions seen, the providential coincidences. These two Melanias are, instead, much like us: they are individual actors in a field of human existence in which we as contemporary people also often consider ourselves to be acting. On the human scale, they are born, marry, bear and lose children, travel, give gifts, and so on. The depiction of these figures as recognizably human allows us to identify, and identify with, Melania the Elder and Melania the Younger as beings whom we think of as real, historical people. Yet historiographical trends of the last few decades have alerted students of ancient Christianity to how such identifications are the products of narrative art, the art both of ancient narrators, such as Palladius and Gerontius, and of modern historians.¹¹ The people with whom we identify are characters in stories that we tell ourselves or in stories that we want to hear told. In many respects, contemporary awareness of the aesthetic and rhetorical effects of history has been fruitful: historians can analyze techniques of late ancient representation to shed light on the larger fields of ideas and language that created narratives of power and possibility for people in the late ancient world. At the same time, our awareness of history as storytelling has limited historians’ optimism about the ability of ancient texts to reveal the lives of its subjects directly. The Melanias exist for us in a mediated and elliptical way, simultaneously brought into vivid individual focus by their narrators ancient and modern and yet irretrievably distanced, woven back into larger fields of discourse that themselves come into focus only through the texture of that same narration.

And yet the dual planes created by these stories—stories of people and stories of their larger worlds—can come together for us. In this book we attend to how using multiple focal points, subjects that exist on both small and large scales, ranging from the individual to the city to social class, allows us to explore the history of the early Christian world. In particular, we consider how Melania the Elder and Melania the Younger were simultaneously individual people and small points of intersection amid a variety of much larger historical entities. These larger historical entities were sometimes as concrete as the city of Rome and the assembly of the Roman Senate or as abstract as fourth- or fifth-century medical theories of gender. They were systems of thought and habit, relying on material resources and individual bodies for their expression, like the clothes that aristocratic women were expected to wear or the emotions that they were supposed to hide or display. The Melanias were people located within such historical entities, but they also acted as human locations for those entities, embodying these systems in recognizable ways and expressing their tangible existence. These historical entities, in turn, were larger than any individual person, but they were nonetheless really existing things, within which, or connected to which, individual persons existed. They were composed of systems of interactions between persons and their material surroundings, and they exerted different kinds of forces than individual persons acting alone.¹² Contemporary theorists of the material networks in which human beings act, writers such as Bruno Latour or Levi Bryant, have emphasized the importance of seeing these networks as true historical agents, with physical properties and effects, assemblages made up of people themselves and the material environments that allow them to be the people that they consider themselves to be.¹³ These are the networks in which we place the two Melanias.

How did a large historical entity or assemblage take shape and exert force in the early Christian world? Consider the late Roman senatorial class. In one sense, this was a larger-than-human being because it was composed of multiple people acting together in particularly recognizable ways. Their actions relied on relationships between human beings for success: aristocrats purchased or bequeathed property, held civic office, dressed, spoke, and moved in a manner that distinguished them from members of other classes, and so on.¹⁴ But the senatorial aristocracy was also a larger-than-human being in the sense that in order for its members to act in these recognizable ways, it required the participation of nonhuman collaborators and members: clothing and the pastoral and animal elements that produced it; agricultural land and its production of food; monumental building as well as varieties of domestic architecture. Without the material resources that were brought into the actions that these people undertook, and that structured what kinds of actions were possible, there could not be an aristocracy. The senatorial aristocracy was thus a historical entity made up of multiple human beings along with entire sets of nonhuman things, all of which collaborated on its successful existence in specific times and places. Such large-scale entities have often been discussed as social structures of various kinds, but it is also helpful to recognize them explicitly as historical actors who are in constant interaction both with other large-scale entities and with the smaller-scale beings who live inside them.

In this volume, we have used the following entities to explore the locations of Melania the Elder and Melania the Younger: the senatorial aristocracy; the household; late Roman systems of gendering; heresy and orthodoxy; and place, particularly the places of Rome and Jerusalem. Speaking of these phenomena as historical entities in their own right, rather than simply as hermeneutical categories or discursive fields, helps to describe the complexity of interactions between the Melanias as human individuals and the larger-than-human things that enclosed them and were shaped by them. One famous episode in the life of Melania the Elder, in which she is imprisoned by a corrupt official, may help to illustrate these interactions. Palladius tells the story as follows:¹⁵

After this, the prefect of Alexandria sent [the monks] Isidore, Pisimius, Adelphius, Paphnutius, and Pambo, and Ammonius Parotes as well, and twelve bishops and presbyters, into exile in the area around Diocaesarea in Palestine; and she followed them, serving them out of her own possessions. But since they were forbidden to have servants, . . . she put on a slave’s cloak and brought them what they needed in the evenings. Once the consul of Palestine discovered this, he wished to fill his pockets and to frighten her; and he arrested her and threw her into prison, not realizing that she was a free woman. But she said to him: I am this man’s daughter and that man’s wife; but I am Christ’s slave. And do not hold the poverty of my clothing in contempt, for if I want to I can raise myself up; so you can neither frighten me in this way nor can you take what I own. I have told you this so that you will not unwittingly commit any illegal acts: with unperceptive people it is necessary to act proudly, like a hawk. The judge, once he understood the situation, both apologized and honored her, and ordered that she should be able to meet with the holy men freely.

The episode is told with remarkable compression of detail, but although Melania’s individual power and agency is emphasized, she is also portrayed as existing within multiple larger entities that have their own potencies and agendas. Melania’s paternal and spousal networks, as assemblages that act to elevate and identify her as part of themselves, push Melania toward what would be the expected activity for her, namely dressing aristocratically and using slaves for labor. That is, Melania with these other human and nonhuman parts is a different agent, and part of a different system of activity, than she is without them. Although Melania works against these systems in some respects in this story, by dressing as a slave herself and performing labor, she also works within them to manipulate the actions of the Palestinian official and to secure free access to the monks. Her identity is clearly different (she is Christ’s slave) when acting against the potencies of these particular larger entities than it is when acting within them (when she is this man’s daughter and that man’s wife). In turn, the Palestinian official in this story is part of the Roman bureaucratic system, which is made up in this narrative of himself, money, slaves, and prison space. This bureaucratic entity can act to imprison, to extract money, and to restrict or open avenues of movement to those humans within it. In this story, late Roman systems of aristocracy, bureaucracy, piety, wealth, and gender are all exerting different kinds of force on the individuals living within them, who sometimes act against those larger beings and sometimes act along with them. It is, moreover, through the encounter of these larger beings with each other, and with the humans inside them, that Melania’s much smaller-scale identity as a person is delineated.

The presence of these larger-than-human historical entities, exercising their own powers and undergoing their own encounters, complicates the narratives of the Melanias as individual persons with which this introduction began. Although historians eschew the supernatural larger-than-human beings on whom their hagiographers rely, we nonetheless return to big things as agents who create, shape, challenge, and are challenged by the human individual. In a sense, we have returned to the fantastical, in a way that allows the fantastical to become real according to modern historical norms.¹⁶

EARLY CHRISTIAN EVOLUTION

This book draws a variety of boundaries around a variety of subjects in order to tell stories about different large historical beings and about two specific persons inside them, Melania the Elder and Melania the Younger. In the second part of this introduction, we turn briefly to how the boundaries that we have chosen to draw are the result of a specific historical evolution over the last forty years.

This book is in part a tribute to the scholarship of Elizabeth A. Clark, who taught and mentored all the contributors either formally or informally. Her work has directed the study of ancient Christianity away from traditional theological readings of the Church Fathers and toward approaches that treat ancient Christianity as a complex social, cultural, and ideological phenomenon. The chapters of this book demonstrate how a single scholar’s work on two individuals can evolve over time into a much larger-scale system of analyses and narratives. This is clear even in Clark’s own career: in the late 1970s and early 1980s, Clark published a series of works on women in late ancient Christianity, among whom Melania the Elder and Melania the Younger were prominent.¹⁷ In 1984, she published the first full, scholarly English translation and commentary on the Life of Melania the Younger.¹⁸ These works formed part of a project of historical recovery that was necessary for writing women’s history as it was conceived in the 1970s and 1980s. They made it possible to create the kinds of narratives of individual human action, women’s action, with which we began. Such creations were historically momentous in the context of the late twentieth century, and yet narratively straightforward. As Clark moved away from the delineation of individual women’s lives in the late 1980s and early 1990s, however, she began to embed Melania the Elder and Melania the Younger in complex social networks, particularly in her book The Origenist Controversy: The Cultural Construction of an Early Christian Debate.¹⁹ In that book, individual characters, including the Melanias, come into and go out of focus as their positions in their social networks shift over time, or shift through different perspectives. Next, the so-called linguistic turn in history introduced historians to the analysis of the construction of subjects and categories of subjectivity through language, a style of analysis that Clark both demonstrated and defended in Reading Renunciation: Asceticism and Scripture in Early Christianity,²⁰ and again in History, Theory, Text: Historians and the Linguistic Turn.²¹ In these books, the boundaries of the subjects of historical narrative became far broader: the subjects became whole discourses, which enveloped and summoned individual persons, again including the Melanias, into recognizable being. Clark’s most recent work, on the reception of early Christian texts in nineteenth-century America,²² can be understood as an experiment in extending the temporal scale of narratives about discourse. Over the span of one career, then, we can see an evolution in narrative scale that has changed the way that writing the history of early Christianity is possible. The original elements, the outlines and traces of early Christian women as individuals, are not gone but have been extended; the scale of the narrative that contains them has broadened. As Clark writes in the conclusion of her groundbreaking essay The Lady Vanishes: Dilemmas of a Feminist Historian after the Linguistic Turn: Has, then, ‘the lady vanished’? If this question means, Can we recover her pure and simple from texts? my answer is no. But that is not the last word: she leaves her traces, through whose exploration, as they are imbedded in a larger social-linguistic framework, she lives on.²³

The contributors to this book take the decision to extend and complicate the narrative scales around Melania the Elder and Melania the Younger as their starting point. They move outward from the Melanias physically, linguistically, and temporally, experimenting with new dimensions around these complicated figures, dimensions that Elizabeth Clark’s work has done much to illuminate. The plan of this book is as follows:

In Part I, Aristocracy, Caroline T. Schroeder, Catherine M. Chin, and Christine Luckritz Marquis explore the relationship between Melania the Elder, Melania the Younger, and the social and physical environment of the late Roman senatorial aristocracy. By focusing on the people, families, and buildings that surrounded the Melanias, this section paints a picture of an aristocratic class in flux. The social and economic status of their aristocratic family makes demands on these women in terms of everyday behavior and physical practice but also enables them to redirect the resources of aristocracy toward new forms of social hierarchy. We see the late Roman aristocracy working here as an open but durable system that interacts with its constituent parts and can also be changed by them.

In Part II, Body and Family, Maria Doerfler and Kristi Upson-Saia consider how a strongly delineated individual body—a body recognized as mother and as vulnerable flesh—nonetheless exists within larger systems such as the family, household, medicine, and the civic and ecclesiastical habits that make up Christian doctrine. The complex embeddedness of the Melanias within larger systems is made clear through these scholars’ focus on the processes that make these women identifiable as human and female figures: the intimate yet very public complications of childbirth and motherhood, and the susceptibility of the body to injury. These deeply individualized events are structured by and give structure to the large-scale entities in which they occur.

Part III, Gender and Memory, starts with a wider field of vision, as L. Stephanie Cobb and Rebecca Krawiec examine how readers and audiences in late antiquity remembered both early Christian martyrs and ascetics like the Melanias as gendered persons. Cobb describes how the early third-century martyr stories of Perpetua and Felicitas extended into the later age of the Melanias, and she observes how this extension both prospectively created an identity for fourth- and fifth-century female ascetics and at the same time retrospectively created the stereotype of the earlier Christian female martyr. Krawiec, in turn, focuses on the genderqueering of Melania the Elder in the memory of her monastic descendants. Here the temporal extension of Melania as a figure of inspiration from the past to the future becomes an opportunity to blur Melania’s physical identity as a gendered person. And yet, the genderqueering of Melania also made possible a much more robust memory of her in a society in which the memory of male figures was always uppermost.

Similarly, in Part IV, Wisdom and Heresy, Susanna Drake, Christine Shepardson, and Robin Darling Young explore how difficult it is to apply the typical wide-ranging heretical labels—labels like Pelagian, Nestorian, Origenist—to a single human being, since the boundaries of larger social and intellectual entities do not align temporally or socially with the boundaries of the person. Melania the Elder, portrayed positively by Evagrius as belonging to a long tradition of Christian gnostics, will within a few years become an Origenist after a new boundary, delineating a different but overlapping intellectual system, has been drawn around the materials and practices that derive from Origen’s work. Likewise, Gerontius’s attempts to retrospectively construct a Miaphysite Melania the Younger, after that category comes to life, illustrates the mismatch between heretical and orthodox intellectual systems and the individual persons who become attached to them. The large scale of the heretical content, and the small scale of the heretical person, means that the boundaries cannot converge.

The physical boundedness of the Melanias is not limited to their bodily shape and size: in Part V, In the Holy Places, Andrew Jacobs and Steven Shoemaker look at how the geographical locations of the Melanias reconfigured their identities as well as those of the people around them. Jacobs concentrates on the travel of both Melania the Elder and Melania the Younger from Rome to Jerusalem, suggesting that migration serves first to secure the identities of the travelers, pilgrims, and expatriates who moved from the West to the East but that it also constitutes the larger entity that we can describe as a Christian Roman Empire. Shoemaker, in contrast, focuses on the liturgical outlines of Jerusalem, as the Melanias would likely have encountered it. He finds in the set of physical and musical habits there the outline of a different female person, one more powerful than the expected human, namely the Virgin Mary. Here, a dual focus on the place of the human and the larger-than-human reveals how early Christians could see a person as one of us and as nearly divine at the same time.

The final section of the volume, Modernities, Part VI, offers a more explicit analysis of the Melanias as they come into modern view, focusing on their temporal extension beyond late antiquity and into our own age. Michael Penn narrates the early twentieth-century excitement over the manuscript discovery by Cardinal Rampolla that gave us the Life of Melania the Younger in the form in which we have it today. Penn details the creation of a mass-media Melania, centuries old, but used to shape the religious and social expectations of the Gilded Age. Stephen J. Davis analyzes the characterization of the Melanias as female exemplars in modern Coptic Orthodox Christianity, in which these extended figures are used to draw distinct and male-sanctioned boundaries for contemporary Coptic women’s behavior. Finally, Elizabeth A. Castelli’s essay suggests how scholars may fruitfully move away from the habit of outlining Melania the Younger as a woman and toward outlining her as a saint. The productivity of such a new starting point for drawing the boundaries of this subject has yet to be fully realized.

These essays represent a moment in the life of early Christian studies as it has evolved from the late 1970s to the mid-2010s. We believe that it is useful to reflect on that evolution, keeping in view the original materials and narratives that, through their growth, complication, and extension, have become the current state of this historical field. The usefulness of reflecting on such changes in scale is twofold: first, it requires the historical writer to consider carefully what entities can become subjects of history, and how they can become such: How, and for how long, can we recognize the boundaries of complex entities once we have moved beyond the visible limits of the human body? Moving from Melania as the subject of history to, say, heresy as the subject of history, and keeping Melania in view as a subject within the subject, means that the writer cannot take either Melania or heresy as an obvious or settled entity. Explicitly shifting between scales thus requires practicing the craft of recognition, outlining subjects provisionally in a given historical narrative. Second, and perhaps more important, reflecting on the scales at which entities act and exist captures an aspect of history that is sometimes lost when narrative is relentlessly humanized. Individual human beings are not the only forces in human history. The larger-than-human beings that invade or envelop us are actors with which humans are in constant negotiation, and whose histories must be told in terms beyond individual human births and deaths. The story of this negotiation is a vital part of what we think of as the past. The interactions and feedback processes involved are what allow complex entities, both physical and social, to emerge and structure human experience. In this book we attempt to describe the processes of negotiation between Melania the Elder, Melania the Younger, and the larger beings whose world they inhabited. We ask our readers to see this as another starting point, an invitation to consider the history of early Christianity from the view of both the great and the small, the old and the new.

NOTES

1. On using family, friendship, and other social networks to understand early Christian history, see especially Elizabeth A. Clark, The Origenist Controversy: The Cultural Construction of an Early Christian Debate (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992), chapter 1; Clark’s work will be discussed further below.

2. Palladius, Historia Lausiaca, text and commentary by G.J.M. Bartelink, Palladio: La Storia lausiaca, trans. Marino Barchiesi (Milan: Mondadori, 1974); Paulinus of Nola, Epistulae, ed. Wilhelm von Hartel and Margit Kamptner, CSEL 29, 2nd ed. (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1999); Jerome, Epistulae, vol. 1, ed. Isidorus Hilberg, CSEL 54 (Vienna and Leipzig: F. Tempsky and G. Freytag, 1910); Jerome, Chronicon, ed. Rudolf Helm, in Eusebius’ Werke, vol. 7.1, GCS 47, 3rd ed. (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1984).

3. For this rough chronology, I rely primarily on the recent reconstruction of Kevin W. Wilkinson, The Elder Melania’s Missing Decade, Journal of Late Antiquity 5.1 (2012): 166–84; but see also Nicole Moine, Melaniana, Récherches Augustinennes 15 (1980): 3–79; E.A. Clark, Origenist Controversy, 20–26; F.X. Murphy, Melania the Elder: A Biographical Note, Traditio 5 (1947): 59–77; E. Schwartz, Palladiana, Zeitschrift für die Neutestamentliche Wissenschaft und die Kunde der Älteren Kirche 36.2 (1937): 161–204.

4. Wilkinson, Elder Melania’s Missing Decade, 179–82.

5. E.A. Clark, Origenist Controversy, 24.

6. Palladius, Historia Lausiaca 54.6.

7. Gerontius, Vita S. Melaniae Iunioris: Greek text (with French translation and commentary) ed. and trans. Denys Gorce, Vie de sainte Mélanie, SC 90 (Paris: Cerf, 1962); Latin text (with French translation and commentary) ed. and trans. Patrick Laurence, La vie latine de sainte Mélanie (Jerusalem: Franciscan Printing Press, 2002); English translation of the Greek text, with commentary, trans. Elizabeth A. Clark, The Life of Melania the Younger(Lewiston, N.Y.: Edwin Mellen Press, 1984).

8. It has been much remarked that Gerontius removes Melania the Elder from the story of Melania the Younger’s turn to asceticism: see esp. Gerontius, Life of Melania the Younger, trans. Elizabeth A. Clark, 85–86, 141–52; and as well Christine Luckritz Marquis’s chapter in this volume.

9. Vita S. Melaniae Iunioris 19.

10. For a full account of Melania and Pinian’s wealth and giving, see now Peter Brown, Through the Eye of a Needle: Wealth, the Fall of Rome, and the Making of Christianity in the West, 350–550 A.D. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2012), especially chapters 18 and 20. For their complex relationship with Augustine, see Susanna Drake’s chapter in this volume.

11. See especially Elizabeth A. Clark, The Lady Vanishes: Dilemmas of a Feminist Historian after the ‘Linguistic Turn,’ Church History 67.1 (1998): 1–31.

12. In focusing on the combined historiographical issues of the scale of narrative subjects and the agency of nonhuman entities and assemblages, this chapter relies on theoretical work based in object-oriented ontology and in the related areas of distributed cognition and distributed agency. The most useful discussions of the agency of objects and nonhuman entities for our purposes are in Levi R. Bryant, Onto-Cartography: An Ontology of Machines and Media (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2014); Ian Bogost, Alien Phenomenology; or, What It’s Like to Be a Thing (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2012); Bruno Latour, Reassembling the Social: An Introduction to Actor-Network Theory (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005); Jane Bennett, Vibrant Matter: A Political Ecology of Things (Durham: Duke University Press, 2010); and on the scale of objects, Timothy Morton, Hyperobjects: Philosophy and Ecology after the End of the World (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2013).

13. Latour and Bryant (see note 12 above) are influential in the theoretical trend that is sometimes called the New Materialism or the material turn, which draws inspiration from a variety of sources, notably Gilles Deleuze’s account of the force of materiality in Difference and Repetition, trans. Paul Patton (New York: Columbia University Press, 1994); a useful account of some of the roots of New Materialism is found in Diana Coole and Samantha Frost, Introducing the New Materialisms, in Coole and Frost, eds., New Materialisms: Ontology, Agency, and Politics (Durham: Duke University Press, 2010), 1–43.

14. On the makeup of the late Roman senatorial aristocracy, see the discussion and notes in Chin’s chapter in this volume.

15. Palladius, Historia Lausiaca 46.3; Chin’s translation. For a rich contextualization of this incident, see Sigrid Mratschek-Halfmann, Melania and the Unknown Governor of Palestine, Journal of Late Antiquity 5.2 (2012): 250–68.

16. Bryant, Onto-Cartography, 83: "The strange consequence of this hypothesis is that the man who rides the horse and the man-horse-stirrup-lance assemblage are two distinct individuals. It is not that the man rides the horse, but rather that the man-horse-stirrup-lance assemblage rides. Centaurs really do exist, just not in the sense we thought."

17. The first edition of Elizabeth A. Clark’s Ascetic Piety and Women’s Faith was published in 1979 (Lewiston, N.Y.: Edwin Mellen); with Diane F. Hatch, Clark published The Golden Bough, the Oaken Cross: The Virgilian Cento of Faltonia Betitia Proba (Chico, Calif.: Scholars Press) in 1981. The second edition of Clark’s Jerome, Chrysostom and Friends was published in 1982 (Lewiston, N.Y.: Edwin Mellen). Clark also published selected translations of ancient material on women in early Christianity as Women in the Early Church in 1983 (Wilmington, Del.: Michael Glazier).

18. Lewiston, N.Y.: Edwin Mellen, 1984.

19. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992.

20. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1999.

21. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2004.

22. Founding the Fathers: Early Church History and Protestant Professors in Nineteenth-Century America (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2011).

23. Clark, Lady Vanishes, 31.

PART ONE

Aristocracy

THE AGE OF THE MELANIAS saw the rise of a new Christian elite: although men and women of means had been part of the earliest Christian communities and reflections on wealth are common in Christian literature of the first through third centuries, it is only in late antiquity that we see Christianity publicly and enthusiastically expounded as appropriate to the senatorial class of the Roman Empire. Melania the Elder and Melania the Younger were among the most spectacular members of this Christian aristocracy, with access not only to vast material wealth but also to social and imperial power. At the same time, both Melanias played major roles in the rise of Christian renunciation through their patronage of ascetic practitioners and their foundation of monastic centers, as well as their own public acts of self-sacrifice. In this section, we consider how Melania the Elder and Melania the Younger negotiated their elite status and the dynamics of inheritance in a way that allowed them both to renounce and to retain their social standing, and to extend their influence to new Christian audiences. The three essays here, by Catherine Chin, Christine Luckritz Marquis, and Caroline Schroeder, point to dramatic moments of redefining elite status in late ancient Christianity, moments in which social hierarchies and family ties are retained but are also used to create new possibilities for social encounter.

In Chin’s essay, Melania the Younger is closely tied to the burdens of inherited property. The Life of Melania depicts an elite figure summoned into a social position through the claims made on her by the material things that she inherits. The elite heir is expected, above all, to produce children and create a line of human caretakers for the inherited property. Although the Life describes Melania’s rejection of these claims, it also makes clear that Melania’s establishment of monasteries and other church foundations participated in the same traditional elite dynamic: new church buildings also created imagined genealogies, in this case Christian ascetic genealogies, which in turn made claims on the human beings who owned or inhabited these buildings. The same patterns appeared in the Constantinian buildings in Rome, which connected imperial status with the purported golden age of an apostolic past in the city.

Shifting focus back to Melania the Elder, Christine Luckritz Marquis draws attention to the salience of lineage in early Christian literature and explores the constraints that Melania the Elder’s legacy placed on her namesake, Melania the Younger. The elder Melania’s renunciation looms large, if ambivalently, in literary depictions of her namesake granddaughter’s own life and practice. Effaced entirely from Life of Melania the Younger, yet held up as the younger Melania’s chief inspiration in Palladius’s Lausiac History, the treatment of the two women’s relationship points to the complexities of familial legacies, whether spiritual or material.

For Schroeder, Melania the Younger’s excellence is derived from the affective claims made about her in the Life. As a woman, she might have been expected to exhibit the traditional feminine emotional weaknesses portrayed in other ancient literature; as an aristocrat, however, Melania is portrayed as transcending this gendered weakness and becoming an emotionally wise Stoic sage. The tension between late Roman gender and wealth distribution reorients Melania in opposition to some gendered stereotypes while at the same time valorizing a conservative view of aristocratic behavioral and emotional ideals. This reorientation, however, also produces a new affective network, connecting Melania as an emotional exemplar to the groups of Christians whom Schroeder analyzes as her fan base. In this network, the ascetic hero is, to a large extent, separated from her original surroundings and drawn into a much more intimate affective relationship with the audiences of her Life, who use her story to negotiate their own emotional and social networks.

The late Roman aristocrat undergoes significant changes in the lives and afterlives of the Melanias, although none of these changes is as simple as a rejection of elite status altogether nor as cosmetic as the creation of a nominally Christian Roman elite that exactly parallels the earlier Roman world. Instead, we see the dynamics of status shifting in order to create new kinds of relationships between the elite figure and her social environment. The Roman aristocracy can become apostolic—and apostles can become Roman aristocrats—while at the same time the audiences for ascetic renunciation, whether in the same family or in a broader emotional network, can use renunciation to navigate the constraints placed on them by elite expectation. The rise of the Christian aristocrat thus opens Roman aristocratic ideals, and Christianity itself, to radically new narrative possibilities.

1

Apostles and Aristocrats

Catherine M. Chin

Roman tradition holds that two of the earliest representatives of Christianity in the city were the apostles Peter and Paul, executed in Rome during the reign of Nero. Inscriptional evidence for the memorialization of Peter and Paul on the Appian Way dates back to the third century; markers of a possible burial place of Peter at the Vatican date to the second. It is tempting to see the establishment of an apostolic genealogy for Roman Christianity as the natural outgrowth of this early tradition, and perhaps for that reason scholarly debate over the apostolic history of the city has largely focused on whether traditional sites of veneration reveal the actual presence of apostolic remains. The idea of Rome as a city with an apostolic past, however, is not solely dependent on the history of first-century martyrdoms or evangelization. Instead, the idea of Rome’s apostolic history was constructed in part literally, through the labor of elite building projects in late antiquity. The most spectacular example is the creation of St. Peter’s basilica in the early fourth century, but this is not an isolated