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Title: The Roman Festivals of the Period of the Republic
Author: Fowler, W. Warde (William Warde)
Language: English
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The Roman Festivals of the Period of the Republic
THE ROMAN FESTIVALS OF THE PERIOD OF THE REPUBLIC
AN INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF THE RELIGION OF THE ROMANS
BY
W. WARDE FOWLER, M.A.
FELLOW AND SUB-RECTOR OF LINCOLN COLLEGE, OXFORD
London
MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1899
_All rights reserved_
OXFORD: HORACE HART
PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY
FRATRIS FILIIS
I. C. H. F
H. G. C. F
BONAE SPEI ADOLESCENTIBUS
PREFACE
A word of explanation seems needed about the form this book has taken.
Many years ago I became specially interested in the old Roman religion,
chiefly, I think, through studying Plutarch’s _Quaestiones Romanae_, at
a time when bad eyesight was compelling me to abandon a project for an
elaborate study of all Plutarch’s works. The ‘scrappy’ character not
only of the _Quaestiones_, but of all the material for the study of
Roman ritual, suited weak eyes better than the continual reading of
Greek text; but I soon found it necessary to discover a thread on which
to hang these fragments in some regular order. This I naturally found in
the _Fasti_ as edited by Mommsen in the first volume of the _Corpus
Inscriptionum Latinarum_; and it gradually dawned on me that the only
scientific way of treating the subject was to follow the calendar
throughout the year, and to deal with each festival separately. I had
advanced some way in this work, when Roscher’s _Lexicon of Greek and
Roman Mythology_ began to appear in parts, and at once convinced me that
I should have to do my work all over again in the increased light
afforded by the indefatigable industry of the writers of the Roman
articles. I therefore dropped my work for several years while the
Lexicon was in progress, and should have waited still longer for its
completion, had not Messrs. Macmillan invited me to contribute a volume
on the Roman religion to their series of _Handbooks of Archaeology and
Antiquities_.
Having once set out on the plan of following the _Fasti_, I could not
well abandon it, and I still hold it to be the only sound one:
especially if, as in this volume, the object is to exhibit the religious
side of the native Roman character, without getting entangled to any
serious extent in the _colluvies religionum_ of the last age of the
Republic and the earlier Empire. The book has thus taken the form of a
commentary on the _Fasti_, covering in a compressed form almost all the
public worship of the Roman state, and including incidentally here and
there certain ceremonies which strictly speaking lay outside that public
worship. Compression has been unavoidable; yet it has been impossible to
avoid stating and often discussing the conflicting views of eminent
scholars; and the result probably is that the book as a whole will not
be found very interesting reading. But I hope that British and American
students of Roman history and literature, and possibly also
anthropologists and historians of religion, may find it useful as a book
of reference, or may learn from it where to go for more elaborate
investigations.
The task has often been an ungrateful one—one indeed of
Dipping buckets into empty wells
And growing old with drawing nothing up.
The more carefully I study any particular festival, the more (at least
in many cases) I have been driven into doubt and difficulty both as to
reported facts and their interpretation. Had the nature of the series
permitted it, I should have wished to print the chief passages quoted
from ancient authors in full, as was done by Mr. Farnell in his _Cults
of the Greek States_, and so to present to the reader the actual
material on which conclusions are rightly or wrongly based. I have only
been able to do this where it was indispensable: but I have done my best
to verify the correctness of the other references, and have printed in
full the entries of the ancient calendars at the head of each section.
Professor Gardner, the editor of the series, has helped me by
contributing two valuable notes on coins, which will be found at the end
of the volume: and I hope he may some day find time to turn his
attention more closely to the bearing of numismatic evidence on Roman
religious history.
It happens, by a curious coincidence, that I am writing this on the last
day of the old Roman year; and the lines which Ovid has attached to that
day may fitly express my relief on arriving at the end of a very
laborious task:
Venimus in portum, libro cum mense peracto,
Naviget hinc alia iam mihi linter aqua.
W. W. F.
Oxford: _Feb. 28, 1899_.
CONTENTS
Introduction 1
Calendar 21
Festivals of March 33
Festivals of April 66
Festivals of May 98
Festivals of June 129
Festivals of July 173
Festivals of August 189
Festivals of September 215
Festivals of October 236
Festivals of November 252
Festivals of December 255
Festivals of January 277
Festivals of February 298
Conclusion 332
Notes on Two Coins 350
Indices 353
ABBREVIATIONS.
The following are the most important abbreviations which occur in the
notes:
_C. I. L._ stands for _Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum_. Where the volume
is not indicated the reference is invariably to the _second_ edition of
that part of vol. i which contains the _Fasti_ (Berlin, 1893).
Marquardt or Marq. stands for the third volume of Marquardt’s _Römische
Staatsverwaltung_, second edition, edited by Wissowa (Berlin, 1885). It
is the sixth volume of the complete _Handbuch der Römischen Alterthümer_
of Mommsen and Marquardt.
Preller, or Preller-Jordan, stands for the third edition of Preller’s
_Römische Mythologie_ by H. Jordan (Berlin, 1881).
_Myth. Lex._ or _Lex._ stands for the _Ausführliches Lexicon der
Griechischen und Römischen Mythologie_, edited by W. H. Roscher, which
as yet has only been completed to the letter N.
Festus, or Paulus, stands for K. O. Müller’s edition of the fragments of
Festus, _De Significatione Verborum_, and the _Excerpta ex Festo_ of
Paulus Diaconus; quoted by the page.
INTRODUCTION
I. The Roman Method of Reckoning the Year.[1]
There are three ways in which the course of the year may be calculated.
It can be reckoned—
1. By the revolution of the moon round the earth, twelve of which = 354
days, or a ring (_annus_), sufficiently near to the solar year to be a
practicable system with modifications.
2. By the revolution of the earth round the sun i. e. 365-1/4 days; a
system which needs periodical adjustments, as the odd quarter (or, more
strictly, 5 hours 48 minutes 48 seconds) cannot of course be counted in
each year. In this purely solar year the months are only artificial
divisions of time, and not reckoned according to the revolutions of the
moon. This is our modern system.
3. By combining in a single system the solar and lunar years as
described above. This has been done in various ways by different
peoples, by adopting a cycle of years of varying length, in which the
resultants of the two bases of calculation should be brought into
harmony as nearly as possible. In other words, though the difference
between a single solar year and a single lunar year is more than 11
days, it is possible, by taking a number of years together and reckoning
them as lunar years, one or more of them being lengthened by an
additional month, to make the whole period very nearly coincide with the
same number of solar years. Thus the Athenians adopted for this purpose
at different times groups or cycles of 8 and 19 years. In the Octaeteris
or 8-year cycle there were 99 lunar months, 3 months of 30 days being
added in 3 of the 8 years—a plan which falls short of accuracy by about
36 hours. Later on a cycle of 19 years was substituted for this, in
which the discrepancy was greatly reduced. The Roman year in historical
times was calculated on a system of this kind, though with such
inaccuracy and carelessness as to lose all real relation to the
revolutions both of earth and moon.
But there was a tradition that before this historical calendar came into
use there had been another system, which the Romans connected with the
name of Romulus. This year was supposed to have consisted of 10 months,
of which 4—March, May, July, October—had 31 days, and the rest 30; in
all 304. But this was neither a solar nor a lunar year; for a lunar year
of 10 months = 295 days 7 hours 20 minutes, while a solar year =
365-1/4. Nor can it possibly be explained as an attempt to combine the
two systems. Mommsen has therefore conjectured that it was an artificial
year of 10 months, used in business transactions, and in periods of
mourning, truces[2], &c., to remedy the uncertainty of the primitive
calculation of time; and that it never really was the basis of a state
calendar. This view has of course been the subject of much criticism[3].
But no better solution has been found; the hypothesis that the year of
10 months was a real lunar year, to which an undivided period of time
was added at each year’s end, to make it correspond with the solar year
and the seasons, has not much to recommend it or any analogy among other
peoples. It was not, then, the so-called year of Romulus which was the
basis of the earliest state-calendar, but another system which the
Romans themselves usually ascribed to Numa. This was originally perhaps
a lunar year; at any rate the number of days in it is very nearly that
of a true lunar year (354 days 8 hours 48 minutes)[4]. It consisted of
12 months, of which March, May, July, October had 31 days, and the rest
29, except February, which had 28. All the months therefore had an odd
number of days, except the one which was specially devoted to
purification and the cult of the dead; according to an old superstition,
probably adopted from the Greeks of Southern Italy[5], that odd numbers
were of good omen, even numbers of ill omen. This principle, as we shall
see, holds good throughout the Roman calendar.
But this reckoning of the year, if it ever existed at all, could not
have lasted long as it stood. As we know it in historical times, it has
become modified by applying to it the principle of the solar year. The
reason for this should be noted carefully. A lunar year, being about 11
days short of the solar year, would in a very short time become out of
harmony with the seasons. Now if there is one thing certain about the
Roman religious calendar, it is that many at least of its oldest
festivals mark those operations of husbandry on which the population
depended for its subsistence, and for the prosperous result of which
divine agencies must be propitiated. These festivals, when fixed in the
calendar, must of course occur at the right seasons, which could not be
the case if the calendar were that of a purely lunar year. It was
therefore necessary to work in the solar principle; and this was done[6]
by a somewhat rude expedient, not unlike that of the Athenian
Octaeteris, and probably derived from it[7]. A cycle of 4 years was
devised, of which the first had the 355 days of the lunar year, the
second 355 + 22, the third 355 again, and the fourth 355 + 23. The extra
periods of 22 and 23 days were inserted in February, not at the end, but
after the 23rd (_Terminalia_)[8]. The total number of days in the cycle
was 1465, or about 1 day too much in each year; and in course of time
even this system got out of harmony with the seasons and had to be
rectified from time to time by the Pontifices, who had charge of the
calendar. Owing to ignorance on their part, misuse or neglect of
intercalation had put the whole system out of gear before the last
century of the Republic. All relation to sun and moon was lost; the
calendar, as Mommsen says, ‘went on its own way tolerably unconcerned
about moon and sun.’ When Caesar took the reform of the calendar in hand
the discrepancy between it and the seasons was very serious; the former
being in advance of the latter probably by some weeks. Caesar, aided by
the mathematician Sosigenes, put an end to this confusion by extending
the year 46 B.C. to 445 days, and starting afresh on Jan. 1, 45
B.C.[9]—a day henceforward to be that of the new year—with a cycle of 4
years of 365 days[10]; in the last of which a single day was added,
after the _Terminalia_. This cycle produced a true solar year with a
slight adjustment at short intervals; and after a few preliminary
blunders on the part of the Pontifices, lasted without change until A.D.
1582, when Pope Gregory XIII set right a slight discrepancy by a fresh
regulation. This regulation was only adopted in England in 1752, and is
still rejected in Russia and by the Greek Church generally.
II. Order of Months in the Year.
That the Roman year originally began with March is certain[11], not only
from the evidence of the names of the months, which after June are
reckoned as 5th (Quinctilis), 6th (Sextilis), and so on, but from the
nature of the March festivals, as will be shown in treating of that
month. In the character of the religious festivals there is a distinct
break between February and March, and the operations both of nature and
of man take a fresh turn at that point. Between the festivals of
December and those of January there is no such break. No doubt January
1, just after the winter solstice, was even at an early time considered
in some sense as a beginning; but it is going too far to assume, as some
have done, that an ancient religious or priestly year began at that
point[12]. It was not on January 1, but on March 1, that the sacred fire
in the Aedes Vestae was renewed and fresh laurels fixed up on the Regia,
the two buildings which were the central points of the oldest Roman
religion[13]. March 1, which in later times at least was considered the
birthday of the special protecting deity of the Romans, continued to be
the Roman New Year’s Day long after the official beginning of the year
had been changed to January 1[14]. It was probably not till 153 B.C.,
when the consuls began to enter on office on January 1, that this
official change took place; and the date was then adopted, not so much
for religious reasons as because it was convenient, when the business of
administration was increasing, to have the consuls in Rome for some time
before they left for their provinces at the opening of the war season in
March.
No rational account can in my opinion be given of the Roman religious
calendar of the Republic unless it be taken as beginning with March; and
in this work I have therefore restored the old order of months. With the
Julian calendar I am not concerned; though it is unfortunate that all
the Roman calendars we possess, including the _Fasti_ of Ovid, date from
after the Julian era, and therefore present us with a distorted view of
the true course of the old Roman worship.
Next after March came Aprilis, the month of opening or unfolding
vegetation; then Maius, the month of growing, and Junius, that of
ripening and perfecting. After this the names cease to be descriptive of
the operations of nature; the six months that follow were called, as
four of them still are, only by their positions relative to March, on
which the whole system of the year thus turned as on a pivot.
The last two months of the twelve were January and February. They stand
alone among the later months in bearing names instead of mere numbers,
and this is sufficient to suggest their religious importance. That they
were not mere appendages to a year of ten months is almost certain from
the antique character of the rites and festivals which occur in
them—Agonia, Carmentalia, Lupercalia, &c.; and it is safer to consider
them as marking an ancient period of religious importance preparatory to
the beginning of the year, and itself coinciding with the opening of the
natural year after the winter solstice. This latter point seems to be
indicated in the name Januarius, which, whether derived from janua, ‘a
gate,’ or Janus, ‘the god of entrances,’ is appropriate to the first
lengthening of the days, or the entrance of the sun on a new course;
while February, the month of purifying or regenerative agencies
(februa), was, like the Lent of the Christian calendar, the period in
which the living were made ready for the civil and religious work of the
coming year, and in which also the yearly duties to the dead were paid.
It is as well here to refer to a passage of Ovid (_Fasti_, ii. 47
foll.), itself probably based on a statement of Varro, which has led to
a controversy about the relative position of these two months:
Sed tamen antiqui ne nescius ordinis erres,
Primus, ut est, Iani mensis et ante fuit.
Qui sequitur Ianum, veteris fuit ultimus anni,
Tu quoque sacrorum, Termine, finis eras.
Primus enim Iani mensis, quia ianua prima est;
Qui sacer est imis manibus, imus erat.
Postmodo creduntur spatio distantia longo
Tempora bis quini continuasse viri.
This plainly means that from the time when March ceased to be the first
month, the year always began with January and ended with February; in
other words the order was January, March, April, and so on, ending with
February; until the time of the Decemvirate, when February became the
second month, and December the last, as at present, January still
retaining its place. A little consideration of Ovid’s lines will,
however, suggest the conclusion that he, and his authority, whoever that
may have been, were arguing aetiologically rather than on definite
knowledge. January, they thought, must always have been the first month,
because janua, ‘a door,’ is the first thing, the entrance, through which
you pass into a new year as into a house or a temple. How, they would
argue, could a month thus named have ever been the eleventh month? This
once supposed impossible, it was necessary to infer that the place of
January was the first, from the time of its introduction, and that it
was followed by March, April, &c., February coming last of all,
immediately after December; and finally that at the time of the
Decemvirs, who are known to have made some alterations in the calendar,
the positions of January and February were reversed, January remaining
the first month, but February becoming the second.
III. The Divisions of the Month.
The Romans, with their usual conservatism, preserved the shell of the
lunar system of reckoning long after the reality had disappeared. The
month was at all times divided by the real or imaginary phases of the
moon, though a week of eight days was introduced at an early period, and
though the month was no longer a lunar one.
The two certain points in a lunar month are the first appearance of the
crescent[15] and the full moon; between these is the point when the moon
reaches the first quarter, which is a less certain one. Owing to this
uncertainty of the reckoning of the first days of the month there were
no festivals in the calendars on the days before the first quarter
(Nones), with a single exception of the obscure _Poplifugia_ on July 5.
The day of the new moon was called Kalendae, as Varro tells us, ‘quod
his diebus calantur eius mensis nonae a pontificibus, quintanae an
septimanae sint futurae, in Capitolio in curia Calabra sic: Dies te
quinque calo, Iuno Covella. Septem dies te calo Iuno Covella’[16]. All
the Kalends were sacred to Juno, whose connexion with the moon is
certain though not easy to explain.
With the Nones, which were sacred to no deity, all uncertainty ceased.
The Ides, or day of the full moon, was always the eighth after the first
quarter. This day was sacred to Jupiter; a fact which is now generally
explained as a recognition of the continuous light of the two great
heavenly bodies during the whole twenty-four hours[17]. On the Nones the
_Rex sacrorum_ (and therefore before him the king himself) announced the
dates of the festivals for the month.
There was another internal division of the month, with which we are not
here specially concerned, that of the Roman week or nundinal period of
eight days, which is indicated in all the calendars by the letters A to
H. The _nundinae_ were market days, on which the rustic population came
into Rome; whether they were also feast days (_feriae_) was a disputed
question even in antiquity.
IV. The Days.
Every day in the Roman calendar has a certain mark attached to it, viz.
the letters F, C, N, NP, EN, Q.R.C.F., Q.St.D.F., or FP. All of these
have a religious significance, positive or negative.
F, i. e. _fas_ or _fastus_, means that on the day so marked civil and
especially judicial business might be transacted without fear of divine
displeasure[18]. Correctness in the time as well as place of all human
actions was in the mind of the early Roman of the most vital importance;
and the floating traditional ideas which governed his life before the
formation of the State were systematized and kept secret by kings and
priests, as a part, so to speak, of the science of government. Not till
B.C. 304 was the calendar published, with its permissive and prohibitive
regulations[19].
C (_comitialis_) means that the day so marked was one on which the
_comitia_ might meet[20], and on which also legal business might be
transacted, as on the days marked F, if there were no other hindrance.
The total number of days thus available for secular business, i.e. days
marked F and C, was in the Julian calendar 239 out of 365.
N, i. e. _nefastus_, meant that the day so marked was _religiosus_,
_vitiosus_, or _ater_; as Gellius has it[21], ‘tristi omine et infames
impeditique, in quibus et res divinas facere et rem quampiam novam
exordiri temperandum est.’ Some of these days received the mark in
historical times for a special reason, e. g. a disaster to the State;
among these were the _postriduani_ or days following the Kalends, Nones
and Ides, because two terrible defeats had occurred on such days[22].
But most of them (in all they are 57) were probably so marked as being
devoted to lustrations, or worship of the dead or of the powers of the
earth, and therefore unsuitable for worldly business. One long series of
such _dies nefasti_ occurs Feb. 1-14, the time of purification; another,
April 5-22, in the month occupied by the rites of deities of growing
vegetation; a third, June 5-14, when the rites of the Vestals
preparatory to harvest were taking place; and a fourth, July 1-9, for
reasons which are unfortunately by no means clear to us.
NP was not a mark in the pre-Julian calendars, for it was apparently
unknown to Varro and Ovid. Verrius Flaccus seems to have distinguished
it from N, but his explanation is mutilated, even as it survives in
Festus[23]. No one has yet determined for certain the origin of the
sign, and discussion of the various conjectures would be here
superfluous[24]. It appears to distinguish, in the Julian calendars,
those days on which fell the festivals of deities who were not of an
earthly and therefore doubtful character from those marked N. Thus in
the series of _dies nefasti_ in February and April the Ides in each case
have the mark NP as being sacred to Jupiter.
EN. We have a mutilated note in the calendar of Praeneste which
indicates what this abbreviation meant, viz. _endotercisus =
intercisus_, i. e. ‘cut into parts’[25]. In morning and evening, as
Varro tells us, the day was _nefastus_, but in the middle, between the
slaying of the victim and the placing of the entrails upon the altar, it
was _fastus_. But why eight days in the calendar were thus marked we do
not know, and have no data for conjecturing. All the eight were days
coming before some festival, or before the Ides. Of the eight two occur
in January and two in February, the others in March, August, October and
December. But on such facts no conjectures can be built.
Q.R.C.F. (_Quando Rex Comitiavit Fas_) will be explained under March 24;
the only other day on which it occurs is May 24. Q.St.D.F. (_Quando
stercus delatum fas_) only occurs on June 15, and will there be fully
dealt with.
FP occurs thrice, but only in three calendars. Feb. 21 (_Feralia_) is
thus marked in Caer.[26], but is F in Maff. April 23 (_Vinalia_) is FP
in Caer. but NP in Maff. and F in Praen. Aug. 19 (_Vinalia rustica_) is
FP in Maff. and Amit, F in Antiat. and Allif., NP in Vall. Mommsen
explains FP as _fastus principio_, i. e. the early part of the day was
_fastus_, and suggests that in the case of the _Feralia_, as the rites
of the dead were performed at night, there was no reason why the earlier
part of the day should be _nefastus_. But in the case of the two Vinalia
we can hardly even guess at the meaning of the mark, and it does not
seem to have been known to the Romans themselves.
V. The Calendars still surviving.
The basis of our knowledge of the old Roman religious year is to be
found in the fragments of calendars which still survive. None of these
indeed is older than the Julian era; and all but one are mere fragments.
But from the fragments and the one almost perfect calendar we can infer
the character of the earlier calendar with tolerable certainty.
The calendar, as the Romans generally believed, was first published by
Cnaeus Flavius, curule aedile, in 304 B.C., who placed the _fasti_
conspicuously in the Forum, in order that every one might know on what
days legal business might be transacted[27]; in other words, a calendar
was published with the marks of the days and the indications of the
festivals. After this we hear nothing until 189 B.C., when a consul, M.
Fulvius Nobilior, adorned his temple of Hercules and the Muses with a
calendar which contained explanations or notes as well as dates[28].
These are the only indications we have of the way in which the
pre-Julian calendar was made known to the people.
But the rectification of the calendar by Julius, and the changes then
introduced, brought about a multiplication of copies of the original one
issued under the dictator’s edict[29]. Not only in Rome, but in the
municipalities round about her, where the ancient religious usage of
each city had since the enfranchisement of Italy been superseded,
officially at least, by that of Rome, both public and private copies
were made and set up either on stone, or painted on the walls or ceiling
of a building.
Of such calendars we have in all fragments of some thirty, and one which
is all but complete. Fourteen of these fragments were found in or near
Rome, eleven in municipalities such as Praeneste, Caere, Amiternum, and
others as far away as Allifae and Venusia; four are of uncertain
origin[30]; and one is a curious fragment from Cisalpine Gaul[31]. Most
of them are still extant on stone, but for a few we have to depend on
written copies of an original now lost[32]. No day in the Roman year is
without its annotation in one or more of these; the year is almost
complete, as I have said, in the Fasti Maffeiani; and several others
contain three or four months nearly perfect[33]. Two, though in a
fragmentary condition, are of special interest. One of these, that of
the ancient brotherhood of the Fratres Arvales, discovered in 1867 and
following years in the grove of the brethren near Rome, contains some
valuable additional notes in the fragments which survive of the months
from August to November. The other, that of Praeneste, containing
January, March, April and parts of February and December, is still more
valuable from the comments it contains, most of which we can believe
with confidence to have come from the hand of the great Augustan scholar
Verrius Flaccus. We are told by Suetonius that Verrius put up a calendar
in the forum at Praeneste[34], drawn up by his own hand; and the
date[35] and matter of these fragments found at Praeneste agree with
what we know of the life and writings of Verrius. It is unlucky that
recent attempts to find additional fragments should have been entirely
without result; for the whole annotated calendar, if we possessed it,
would probably throw light on many dark corners of our subject.
To these fragments of Julian calendars, all drawn up between B.C. 31 and
A.D. 46, there remain to be added two in MSS.: (i) that of Philocalus,
A.D. 354, (ii) that of Polemius Silvius, A.D. 448; neither of which are
of much value for our present purpose, though they will be occasionally
referred to. Lastly, we have two farmer’s almanacs on cubes of bronze,
which omit the individual days, but are of use as showing the course of
agricultural operations under the later Empire[36].
All these calendars, some of which had been printed wholly or in part
long ago, while a few have only been discovered of late, have been
brought together for the first time in the first volume of the _Corpus
Inscriptionum Latinarum_, edited by Mommsen with all his incomparable
skill and learning, and furnished with ample elucidations and
commentaries. And we now have the benefit of a second edition of this by
the same editor, to whose labours in this as in every other department
of Roman history it is almost impossible to express our debt in adequate
words. All references to the calendars in the following pages will be
made to this second edition.
A word remains to be said about the _Fasti_ of Ovid[37], which is a
poetical and often fanciful commentary on the calendar of the first half
of the Julian year, i.e. January to June inclusive; each month being
contained in one book. Ovid tells us himself[38] that he completed the
year in twelve books; but the last six were probably never published,
for they are never quoted by later writers. The first six were written
but not published before the poet’s exile, and taken in hand again after
the death of Augustus, but only the first book had been revised when the
work was cut short by Ovid’s death.
Ovid’s work merits all praise as a literary performance, for the
neatness and felicity of its versification and diction; but as a source
of knowledge it is too much of a medley to be used without careful
criticism. There is, however, a great deal in it that helps us to
understand the views about the gods and their worship, not only of the
scholars who pleased themselves and Augustus by investigating these
subjects, but also of the common people both in Rome and in the country.
But the value varies greatly throughout the work. Where the poet
describes some bit of ritual which he has himself seen, or tells some
Italian story he has himself heard, he is invaluable; but as a
substitute for the work of Varro on which he drew, he only increases our
thirst for the original. No great scholar himself, he aimed at producing
a popular account of the results of the work of scholars, picking and
choosing here and there as suited his purpose, and not troubling himself
to write with scientific accuracy. Moreover, he probably made free use
of Alexandrine poets, and especially of Callimachus, whose _Aetia_ is in
some degree his model for the whole poem; and thus it is that the work
contains a large proportion of Greek myth, which is often hard to
distinguish from the fragments of genuine Italian legend which are here
and there imbedded in it. Still, when all is said, a student of the
Roman religion should be grateful to Ovid; and when after the month of
June we lose him as a companion, we may well feel that the subject not
only loses with him what little literary interest it can boast of, but
becomes for the most part a mere investigation of fossil rites, from
which all life and meaning have departed for ever.
VI. The Calendar of the Republic and its Religious Festivals.
All the calendars still surviving belong, as we saw, to the early
Empire, and represent the Fasti as revised by Julius. But what we have
to do with is the calendar of the Republic. Can it be recovered from
those we still possess? Fortunately this is quite an easy task, as
Mommsen himself has pointed out[39]; we can reconstruct for certain the
so-called calendar of Numa as it existed throughout the Republican era.
The following considerations must be borne in mind:
1. It is certain that Caesar and his advisers would alter the familiar
calendar as little as possible, acting in the spirit of persistent
conservatism from which no true Roman was ever free. They added 10 days
to the old normal year of 355 days, i. e. two at the end of January,
August, and December, and one at the end of April, June, September, and
November; but they retained the names of the months, and their division
by Kalends, Nones, and Ides, and also the signs of the days, and the
names of all festivals throughout the year. Later on further additions
were made, chiefly in the way of glorification of the Emperors and their
families; but the skeleton remained as it had been under the Republic.
2. It is almost certain that the Republican calendar itself had never
been changed from its first publication down to the time of Caesar.
There is no historical record of any alteration, either by the
introduction of new festivals or in any other way. The origin of no
festival is recorded in the history of the Republic, except the second
Carmentalia, the Saturnalia, and the Cerealia[40]; and in these three
cases we can be morally certain that the record, if such it can be
called, is erroneous.
3. If Julius and his successors altered only by slight additions, and if
the calendar which they had to work on was of great antiquity and
unchanged during the Republic, how, in the next place, are we to
distinguish the skeleton of that ancient calendar from the Julian and
post-Julian additions? Nothing is easier; in Mommsen’s words, it is not
a matter of calculation; a glance at the Fasti is sufficient. In all
these it will be seen that the numbers, names, and signs of the days
were cut or painted in _large_ capital letters; while ludi, sacrifices,
and all additional notes and comments appear in _small_ capital letters.
It cannot be _demonstrated_ that the large capital letters represent the
Republican calendar; but the circumstantial evidence, so to speak, is
convincing. For inscribed in these large capitals is all the information
which the Roman of the Republic would need; the _dies fasti_,
_comitiales_, _nefasti_, &c.; the number of the days in the month; the
position of the Nones and the Ides and the names of those days on which
fixed festivals took place; all this in an abbreviated but no doubt
familiar form. The minor sacrificial rites, which concerned the priests
and magistrates rather than the people, he did not find there; they
would only have confused him. The moveable festivals, too, he did not
find there, as they changed their date from year to year and were fixed
by the priesthood as the time for each came round. The _ludi_, or public
games, were also absent from the old calendar, for they were, originally
at least, only adjuncts to certain festivals out of which they had grown
in course of time. Lastly, all rites which did not technically concern
the State as a whole, but only its parts and divisions[41], i. e. of
gentes and curiae, of pagi (_paganalia_), montes (_Septimontium_) and
sacella (_Sacra Argeorum_), could not be included in the public calendar
of the Roman people.
But the Roman of the Republic, even if his calendar were confined to the
indications given by the large capital letters in the Julian calendar,
could find in these the essential outline of the yearly round of his
religious life. This outline we too can reconstruct, though the detail
is often wholly beyond our reach. For this detail we have to fall back
upon other sources of information, which are often most unsatisfactory
and difficult to interpret. What are these other sources, of what value
are they, and how can that value be tested?
Apart from the surviving Fasti, we have to depend, both for the
completion of the religious calendar, and for the study and
interpretation of all its details, chiefly on the fragmentary remains of
the works of the two great scholars of the age of Julius and Augustus,
viz. Varro and Verrius Flaccus, and on the later grammarians,
commentators, and other writers who drew upon their voluminous writings.
Varro’s book _de Lingua Latina_, though not complete, is in great part
preserved, and contains much information taken from the books of the
pontifices, which, did we but possess them, would doubtless constitute
our one other most valuable record besides the _Fasti_ themselves[42].
Such, too, is the value of the dictionary of Verrius Flaccus, which,
though itself lost, survives in the form of two series of condensed
excerpts, made by Festus probably in the second century, A.D., and by
Paulus Diaconus as late as the beginning of the ninth[43]. Much of the
work of Varro and Verrius is also imbedded in the grammatical writings
of Servius the commentator on Virgil, in Macrobius, Nonius, Gellius, and
many others, and also in Pliny’s _Natural History_, and in some of the
Christian Fathers, especially St. Augustine and Tertullian; but all
these need to be used with care and caution, except where they quote
directly from one or other of their two great predecessors. The same may
be said of Laurentius Lydus[44], who wrote in Greek a work _de Mensibus_
in the sixth century, which still survives. To these materials must be
added the great historical writers of the Augustine age; Livy, who,
uncritical as he was, and incapable of distinguishing the genuine
Italian elements in religious tradition from the accretions of Greek and
Graeco-Etruscan myth, yet supplies us with much material for criticism;
and Dionysius of Halicarnassus, who as a foreigner resident for some
time in Rome, occasionally describes ritual of which he was himself a
witness. The Roman lives of Plutarch, and his curious collection
entitled _Roman Questions_, also contain much interesting matter, taken
from several sources, e.g. Juba, the learned king of Mauritania, but as
a rule ultimately referable to Varro. Beyond these there is no one
author of real importance; but the ‘plant’ of the investigator will
include of course the whole of Roman literature, and Greek literature so
far as it touches Roman life and history. Of epigraphical evidence there
is not much for the period of the Republic, beyond the fragments of the
Fasti; by far the most valuable Italian religious inscription is not
Roman but Umbrian; and the _Acta Fratrum Arvalium_ only begin with the
Empire. Yet from these[45], and from a few works of art, however hard of
interpretation, some light has occasionally been thrown upon the
difficulties of our subject; and the study of early Italian culture is
fast progressing under the admirable system of excavation now being
supervised by the Italian government.
All this material has been collected, sifted, and built upon by modern
scholars, and chiefly by Germans. The work of collecting was done to a
great extent in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries; the rest of the
process mainly in the nineteenth. The chief writers will be quoted as
occasion demands; here can only be mentioned, _honoris causa_, the
writings of Ambrosch, Preller, Schwegler, Marquardt[46], and of some of
the writers in the _Mythological Lexicon_, edited by Roscher, especially
Professor Wissowa of Berlin, whose short but pithy articles, as well as
his treatises _de Feriis_ and _de Dis Indigetibus_ are models of
scholarly investigation[47]. Of late, too, anthropologists and
folk-lorists have had something to say about Roman religious
antiquities; of these, the most conspicuous is the late lamented Dr.
Mannhardt, who applied a new method to certain problems both of the
Greek and the Roman religion, and evolved a new theory for their
interpretation. Among other works of this kind, which incidentally throw
light on our difficulties, the most useful to me have been those of
Professor Tylor, Mr. Frazer, Mr. Andrew Lang, and the late Professor
Robertson Smith. In the _Religion of the Semites_, by the last named
scholar, I seem to see a deeper insight into the modes of religious
thought of ancient peoples than in any other work with which I am
acquainted.
Yet in spite of all this accumulation of learning and acumen, it must be
confessed that the study of the oldest Roman religion is still one of
insuperable difficulty, and apt to try the patience of the student all
the more as he slowly becomes aware of the conditions of the problem
before him. There are festivals in the calendar about which we really
know nothing at all, and must frankly confess our ignorance; there are
others about which we know just enough to be doubtful; others again, in
interpreting which the Romans themselves plainly went astray, leaving us
perhaps nothing but a baseless legend to aid us in guessing their
original nature. It must be borne in mind that the Roman religion was in
ruins when the Julian calendar was drawn up, and that the archaeological
research which was brought to bear upon it by Varro and Verrius was not
of a strictly scientific character. And during the last two centuries of
the Republic, as the once stately building crumbled away, it became
overlaid with growths of foreign and especially of Greek origin, under
which it now lies hopelessly buried. The ground-plan alone remains, in
the form of the calendar as it has been explained above; to this we must
hold fast if we would obtain any true conception of the religion of the
earliest Roman State[48]. Here and there some portion of the building of
which it was the basis can however still be conjecturally restored by
the aid of Varro and Verrius and a few other ancient writers, tested by
the criticism of modern scholars, and sometimes by the results of the
science of comparative religion. Such particular restoration is what has
been attempted in this work, not without much misgiving and constant
doubt.
The fall of the Republic is in any case a convenient point from which to
survey the religious ideas and practice of the conquerors of the
civilized world. It is not indeed a more significant epoch in the
history of the Roman religion than the era of the Punic wars, when Rome
ceased to be a peninsular, and began to be a cosmopolitan state; but it
is a turning-point in the history of the calendar and of religious
worship as well as of the constitution. Henceforward, in spite of the
strenuous efforts of Augustus to revive the old forms of worship, all
religious rites have a tendency to become transformed or overshadowed,
first by the cult of the Caesars[49]; secondly, by the steadily
increasing influence of foreign and especially of Oriental cults; and
lastly, by Christianity itself[50].
Taking our stand, then, in the year 46 B.C., the last year of the
pre-Julian calendar, we are able in a small volume, by carefully working
through that calendar, to lay a firm foundation of material for the
study of the religious life and thought of the Roman people while it was
still in some sense really Roman. The plan has indeed its disadvantages;
it excludes the introduction of a systematic account of certain
departments of the subject, such as the development of the priesthoods,
the sacrificial ritual, the auspicia, and the domestic practice of
religious rites[51]. But if it is true, as it undoubtedly is, that in
dealing with the Roman religion we must begin with the cult[52], and
that for the cult the one ‘sincerum documentum’ is to be found in the
surviving Fasti, these drawbacks may fairly be deemed to be
counterbalanced by distinct advantages. And in order to neutralize any
bewilderment that may be caused by the constant variety of the rites we
shall meet with, both in regard to their origin, history, and meaning,
some attempt will be made, when we have completed the round of the year,
to sum up our results, to sketch in outline the history of Roman
religious ideas, and to estimate the influence of all this elaborate
ceremonial on the life and character of the Roman people.
* * * * *
In order to fit the calendar of each month into a single page of this
work it has been necessary to print the names of the festivals, and the
indications of Kalends, Nones, &c. in _small_ capital letters instead of
the large capitals in which they appear in the originals (see above, p.
15). In the headings to the days as they occur throughout the book the
method of the originals will be reproduced exactly, i. e. large capitals
represent in every case the most ancient calendar of the Republic, and
small capitals the _additamenta ex fastis_.
Footnote 1:
The difficult questions connected with this subject cannot be
discussed here. Since Mommsen wrote his _Römische Chronologie_ it has
at least been possible to give an intelligible account of it, such as
that in the _Dict. of Antiquities_ (second edition), in Marquardt’s
_Staatsverwaltung_, iii. 281 foll., and in Bouché-Leclercq,
_Pontifes_, p. 230 foll. There is a useful summary in H. Peter’s
edition of Ovid’s _Fasti_ (p. 19). Mommsen’s views have been
criticized by Huschke, _Das Römische Jahr_, and Hartmann, _Der Röm.
Kalender_; the former a very unsafe guide, and the latter,
unfortunately, an unfinished and posthumous work. The chief ancient
authority is Censorinus, _De die natali_, a work written at the
beginning of the third century A.D., on the basis of a treatise of
Suetonius.
Footnote 2:
_Chron._ 48 foll.; Marq. 284 and notes.
Footnote 3:
Huschke, _op. cit._ 8 foll.; Hartmann, p. 13.
Footnote 4:
1 Censorinus, _De die natali_, 20. 4.
Footnote 5:
Mommsen (_Chron._ 13) believes it to have been a Pythagorean doctrine
which spread in Southern Italy. Hartmann, on the contrary, calls it an
old Italian one adopted by Pythagoras. See a valuable note in
Schwegler, _Röm. Gesch._ i. 561, inclining to the latter view.
Footnote 6:
Probably by the Decemvirs, B.C. 450, who are said to have made some
alteration in the calendar (Macrob. 1. 13. 21.)
Footnote 7:
See _Dict. Ant._ i. 337 and 342. It is highly probable that there was
a still older plan, which gave way to this at the time of the
Decemvirate: the evidence for this, which is conjectural only, is
stated by Mommsen in the first chapter of his _Chronologie_. The
number of days in this cycle (also of 4 years) is computed at 1475,
and the average in each year at 368-3/4.
Footnote 8:
Or, according to Mommsen, in alternate years after the 23rd and 24th,
i. e. in the year of 378 days 23 days were inserted after the
_Terminalia_; in the year of 377 days 22 days were inserted after the
24th (_Regifugium_). Thus February would in the one case have 23, and
in the other 24 days; the remaining 5 and 4 being added to the
intercalated period. The object of the Decemvirs (if it was they who
made this change) in this curious arrangement was, in part at least,
to keep the festival of the god Terminus on its original day (Mommsen,
_Chron._ 38). Terminus would budge neither from his seat on the
Capitol (Liv. 1. 55) nor from his place in the calendar.
Footnote 9:
Probably in order that the beginning of the year might coincide with a
new moon; which actually happened on Jan. 1, 45, and was doubtless
regarded as a good omen.
Footnote 10:
He added 10 days to the normal year of 355: January, Sextilis,
December, receiving two; April, June, September, November, one only.
These new days were placed at the end of the months, so that the days
on which religious festivals fell might remain as before.
Footnote 11:
Mommsen, _Chron._ 220. In no other Italian calendar of which we have
any knowledge is March the first month (ib. 218 foll.): but there
cannot be much doubt that these too had undergone changes. Festus
(150), representing Verrius Flaccus, says, ‘Martius mensis initium
fuit anni et in Latio et post Romam conditam,’ &c.
Footnote 12:
Huschke, _Röm. Jahr_, 11 foll.
Footnote 13:
See below, under March 1.
Footnote 14:
Mommsen, _Chron._ 103 foll.
Footnote 15:
Not the real new moon, which is invisible. The period between the new
moon and the first quarter varies.
Footnote 16:
Varro, _L. L._ 6. 27. This was the method before the publication of
the calendar by Flavius: Macr. 1. 15. 9. The meaning of Covella is
doubtful; it has generally been connected with _cavus_ and κοῖλος, and
explained of the ‘hollow’ crescent of the new moon. See Roscher,
_Lex._ s. v. Iuno 586.
Footnote 17:
Aust, s. v. Iuppiter, in Roscher’s _Lexicon_, p. 655.
Footnote 18:
Varro, _L. L._ 6. 29 ‘Dies fasti, per quos praetoribus omnia verba (i.
e. do, dico, addico) sine piaculo licet fari.’
Footnote 19:
Liv. 9. 46.
Footnote 20:
Macr. 1. 16. 14. Cp. the mutilated note of Verrius in _Fasti
Praenestini_ (Jan. 3).
Footnote 21:
Gell. 4. 9. 5. Varro, _L. L._ 6. 29. 30.
Footnote 22:
Livy, 6. 1. 11. Macrob. i. 16. 22.
Footnote 23:
Festus 165. See Mommsen’s restoration of the passage in _C. I. L._ 290
B.; another, less satisfactory, in Huschke, _Röm. Jahr_, 240.
Footnote 24:
Mommsen (_C. I. L._ 290, A) still holds to his view that NP is only an
old form of N, brought into use for purposes of differentiation. His
criticism of other views makes it difficult to put faith in them; but
I cannot help thinking that the object of the mark was not only to
distinguish the religious character of the days from those marked N,
but to show that civil business might be transacted on them after the
sacrificial rites were over, owing to the rapid increase of legal
business. Ovid may be alluding to this, though confusing NP with EN,
in _Fasti_ i. 51, where the words, ‘Nam simul exta deo data sunt,
licet omnia fari,’ do not suit with Verrius’ note on EN, but may
really explain NP.
Footnote 25:
_Fasti Praen._, Jan. 10. Varro, _L. L._ 6. 31. Maer. 1. 16. 3.
Footnote 26:
For the names of the fragments of _Fasti_, see next section.
Footnote 27:
‘Fastos circa forum in albo proposuit, ut quando lege agi posset
sciretur,’ Liv. 9. 46. 5; Cic. _Att._ 6. 1. 8. On the latter passage
Mommsen has based a reasonable conjecture that the Fasti had been
already published in one of the last two of the Twelve Tables, and
subsequently again withdrawn. (_Chron._ 31 and note.)
Footnote 28:
Macrob. 1. 12. 16.
Footnote 29:
_C. I. L._ 207 B. Petronius (_Cena_ 30) suggests the way in which
copies might be set up in private houses. In municipia copies might be
made and given to the town by private persons (so probably were Maff.
and Praen.) or put up by order of the decuriones.
Footnote 30:
Including the Fasti Maffeiani, which is almost complete.
Footnote 31:
No. 20 in _C. I. L._ (Guidizzolenses), found at Guidizzolo between
Mantua and Verona.
Footnote 32:
Maffeiani, Tusculani, Pinciani, Venusini.
Footnote 33:
Those of Caere, Praeneste, Amiternum, and Antium.
Footnote 34:
Suet. _de Grammaticis_, 19.
Footnote 35:
Circ. A.D. 10: cf. _C. I. L._ 206. There are a few additional notes
apparently by a later hand.
Footnote 36:
Menologium rusticum Colotianum, and Men. rusticum Vallense in _C. I.
L._ 280, 281.
Footnote 37:
Merkel’s edition (1841), with its valuable Prolegomena, is
indispensable; very useful too is that by H. Peter; Leipzig, 1889.
Footnote 38:
_Tristia_, ii. 549.
Footnote 39:
_C. I. L._ 297 foll. (de feriis).
Footnote 40:
To these we may perhaps add the _Poplifugia_ and _Lucaria_ in July,
the legends about which we can neither accept nor refute.
Footnote 41:
See Festus, 245; and _Dict. Ant._ s. v. Sacra.
Footnote 42:
Varro’s works, _de Antiquitatibus humanis_ and _divinis_, and many
others, only survive in the fragments quoted by later authors.
Footnote 43:
Paul the deacon was one of the scholars who found encouragement at the
court of Charles the Great. His work is an abridgement of that of
Festus, not of Verrius himself. On Verrius and his epitomators, as
well as on the other writers who used his glosses, see H. Nettleship’s
valuable papers in _Essays in Latin Literature_, p. 201 foll.
Footnote 44:
For more information about Lydus see Bury, _Later Roman Empire_, ii.
183, and below under March 14.
Footnote 45:
They will be found in Bücheler’s _Umbrica_ (containing the
processional inscription of Iguvium with commentary and translation),
and Henzen’s _Acta Fratrum Arvalium_.
Footnote 46:
Preller’s _Römische Mythologie_ (ed. 3, by H. Jordan) and Marquardt’s
third volume of his _Staatsverwaltung_ (ed. Wissowa) are both
masterpieces, not only in matter but in manner.
Footnote 47:
Among the others may especially be mentioned Aust, a pupil of Wissowa,
to whom we owe the excellent and exhaustive article on Jupiter; and R.
Peter, the author of the article Fortuna and others, who largely
reflects the views of the late Prof. Reifferscheid of Breslau.
Footnote 48:
‘Hoc paene unum superest sincerum documentum,’ Wissowa, _de Feriis_,
p. 1.
Footnote 49:
This is well illustrated in the _Acta Fratrum Arvalium_ referred to
above.
Footnote 50:
A succinct account of these tendencies will be found in Marquardt, p.
72 foll. There is a French translation of this invaluable volume.
Footnote 51:
A short account of these will be found in the author’s articles in the
new edition of Smith’s _Dictionary of Antiquities_, on ‘Sacra,’
‘Sacerdos,’ and ‘Sacrificium.’ On the domestic rites, there is an
excellent book in Italian, which might well be translated: _Il Culto
privato di Roma antica_, by Prof. De-Marchi of Milan, of which only
Part I, _La Religione nella vita domestica_, has as yet appeared.
Footnote 52:
Marquardt, _Staatsverwaltung_, iii. p. 2.
Calendar.
MENSIS MARTIUS
_Fasti antiquissimi._ _Additamenta ex _Additamenta ex
fastis._ scriptoribus._
1 KAL. 1. Feriae Marti. 1. Matronalia(?).
NP Iunoni Lucinae.
2 F
3 C
4 C
5 C
6 NP
7 NON. 7. Vediovi.
F
8 F
9 C 9. Arma ancilia
movent.
10 C
11 C
12 C
13 EN
14 NP EQUIRRIA 14 (or 15?). Feriae 14. Mamuralia(?).
Marti.
15 EID. 15. Feriae Annae
NP Perennae.
16 F 16 (and 17?). Sacra
Argeorum.
17 NP LIBERALIA
AGONIA
18 C
19 N QUINQUATRUS 19. Feriae Marti.
20 C
21 C
22 N
23 NP TUBILUSTRIUM
24 Q.R.C.
F
25 C
26 C
27 NP
28 C
29 C
30 C
31 C 31. Lunae in
Aventino.
MENSIS APRILIS
_Fasti antiquissimi._ _Additamenta ex _Additamenta ex
fastis._ scriptoribus._
1 KAL. 1. Veneralia(?).
F Fortunae virili in
balneis (Verr.
Flacc.).
2 F
3 C
4 C 4. Matri Magnae.
4-10. Ludi
Megalesiaci.
5 NON. 5. Fortunae publicae
N citeriori in colle.
6 NP
7 N
8 N
9 N 9-10 or 10-11.
Oraculum Fortunae
patet (at
Praeneste).
10 N
11 N
12 N 12-19. Ludi Cereales
13 EID. NP
14 N
15 NP FORDICIDIA
16 N
17 N
18 N
19 N CEREALIA 19. Cereri Libero
Liberae.
20 N
21 NP PARILIA 21. Natalis urbis
(Philoc.).
22 N
23 NP VINALIA 23. Veneri Erycinae.
Iovi.
24 C 24. Feriae Latinae
(conceptivae)
usually about this
time.
25 NP ROBIGALIA 25. Sacrificium et
ludi.
26 F
27 C
28 NP 28. Ludi Florae, to 28. Floralia
V. Non. Mai. (May (Plin.).
3).
29 C
MENSIS MAIUS
_Fasti antiquissimi._ _Additamenta ex _Additamenta ex
fastis._ scriptoribus._
1 KAL. 1. Laribus 1. Dies natalis of
F (praestitibus). temple of Bona Dea
(Ovid).
2 F
3 C
4 C
5 C
6 C
7 NON.
[53]F
8 F
9 N LEMURIA
10 C
11 N LEMURIA
12 NP
13 N LEMURIA
14 C
15 EID. 15. Feriae Iovi 15. Sacra Argeorum
NP Mercurio Maiae. (Ovid, &c.).
16 F
17 C
18 C
19 C
20 C
21 NP AGONIA 21. Vediovi.
22 N
23 NP TUBILUSTRIUM 23. Volcano.
24 Q.R.C.
F
25 C 25. Fortunae
publicae Populi
Romani.
26 C
27 C
28 C
29 C 29. Ambarvalla
(feriae
conceptivae).
30 C
31 C
MENSIS IUNIUS
_Fasti antiquissimi._ _Additamenta ex _Additamenta ex
fastis._ scriptoribus._
1 KAL. 1. Iunoni Monetae. 1. Kalendae fabariae
N (Plin.) Ludi.
2 F
3 C 3. Bellonae in
circo.
4 C
5 NON. 5. Dio Fidio in
N colle.
6 N
7 N
8 N 8. Menti in
Capitolio.
9 N VESTALIA
10 N
11 N MATRALIA
12 N
13 EID. 13. Feriae Iovi. 13. Quinquatrus
NP minusculae.
14 [54]N
15 Q.ST.D.
F
16 C
17 C
18 C 18. Annae sacrum.
19 C
20 C 20. Summano ad
circum maximum.
21 C
22 C
23 C
24 C 24. Forti Fortunae.
25 C
26 C
27 C
28 C
29 F
MENSIS QUINTILIS
_Fasti antiquissimi._ _Additamenta ex _Additamenta ex
fastis._ scriptoribus._
1 KAL. N
2 N
3 N
4 NP
5 NP POPLIFUGIA
6 N 6-13. Ludi
Apollinares.
7 NON. N 7. Nonae Caprotinae
(Varro).
8 N
9 N 9. Vitulatio
(Varro).
10 C
11 C
12 C
13 C
14 C 14-19. Mercatus.
15 EID. NP
16 F
17 C
18 C 18. Dies Alliensis.
19 NP LUCARIA
20 C
21 NP LUCARIA
22 C
23 NP NEPTUNALIA
24 N
25 NP FURRINALIA
26 C
27 C
28 C
29 C
30 C 30. Fortunae
huiusque diei in
campo.
31 C
MENSIS SEXTILIS
_Fasti antiquissimi._ _Additamenta ex _Additamenta ex
fastis._ scriptoribus._
1 KAL. F 1. Spei ad forum 1. Laribus
holitorium. compitalibus? (Ovid,
5. 147).
2 NP
3 C
4 C
5 NON. F 5. Saluti in colle
Quir.
6[55] F
7 C
8 C 8 (or 9?) Soli
Indigiti in colle
Quir.
9 F
10 C
11 C
12 C 12. Herculi invicto
ad circ. max.
13 EID. NP 13. Feriae Iovi.
14 F Dianae in Aventino.
15 C Vortumno in
Aventino, &c. (see
p. 198).
16 C
17 NP PORTUNALIA 17. Ianoad theatrum
Marcelli.
18 C
19[56] FP VINALIA
20 C
21 NP CONSUALIA 21. Conso in
Aventino.
22 EN
23 NP VOLCANALIA 23. Volcano in circo
Flaminio, &c.
24 C 24. Mundus patet
(Festus).
25 NP OPICONSIVIA
26 C
27 NP VOLTURNALIA
28 C
29 F
MENSIS SEPTEMBER
_Fasti antiquissimi._ _Additamenta ex _Additamenta ex
fastis._ scriptoribus._
1 KAL.
F
2 F
3 F
4 C 4-12. Ludi Romani.
5 NON.
F
6 F
7 C
8 C
9 C
10 C
11 C
12[57] N
13 EID. 13. Iovi epulum.
NP Feriae Iovi.
14 F 14. Equorum
probatio.
15[58] N 15-19. Ludi Romani
in circo.
16 C
17 C
18 C
19 C
20 C 20-23. Mercatus.
21 C
22 C
23 F
24 C
25 C
26 C
27 C
28 C
29 F
MENSIS OCTOBER
_Fasti antiquissimi._ _Additamenta ex _Additamenta ex
fastis._ scriptoribus._
1 KAL. 1. Tigillo sororio
N Acili. Fidei in
Capitolio.
2 F
3 C
4 C
5 C 5. Mundus patet.
6[59] C
7 NON. 7. Iovi fulguri.
F Iunoni Curriti in
campo.
8 F
9 C
10 C
11 NP MEDITRINALIA
12 C
13 NP FONTINALIA 13. Feriae Fonti.
14 EN
15 EID. 15. Feriae Iovi. 15. Sacrifice of
NP October horse
(Festus).
16 F
17 C
18 C
19 NP ARMILUSTRIUM
20 C
21 C
22 C
23 C
24 C
25 C
26 C
27 C
28 C
29 C
30 C
31 C
MENSIS NOVEMBER
_Fasti antiquissimi._ _Additamenta ex _Additamenta ex
fastis._ scriptoribus._
1 KAL.
F
2 F
3 C
4 C 4-17. Ludi plebeii.
5 F
6 NON.
F
7 C
8 C
9 C
10 C
11 C 13. Feriae Iovi.
Iovi epulum.
12 C
13 EID. 13. (or 14?).
NP Feroniae in campo.
Fortunae
Primigeniae.
14 F
15 C
16 C
17 C 14. Equorum
probatio.
18 C 18-20. Mercatus.
19 C
20 C
21 C
22 C
23 C
24 C
25 C
26 C
27 C
28 C
29 F
MENSIS DECEMBER
_Fasti antiquissimi._ _Additamenta ex _Additamenta ex
fastis._ scriptoribus._
1 KAL. 1. Neptuno Pietati 1. Fortunae muliebri
N ad circ. max. (Dionys.).
2 N
3 N 3. Sacra Bonae Deae
(Plutarch, &c.).
4 C
5 NON. 5. Faunalia rustica
F (Horace).
6 F
7 C
8 C 8. Tiberino in
insula.
9 C
10 C
11 NP AG[ONIA] IN. 11. Septimontium
(Festus; Varro).
12 EN 12. Conso in
Aventino.
13 EID. 13. Telluri et
NP Cereri in Carinis.
14 F
15 NP CONSUALIA
16 C
17 NP SATURNALIA
18 C
19 NP OPALIA
20 C
21 NP DIVALIA
22 C 22. Laribus
permarinis in
porticu Minucia.
23 NP LARENTALIA
24 C
25 C
26 C
27 C
28 C
29 F
MENSIS IANUARIUS
_Fasti antiquissimi._ _Additamenta ex _Additamenta ex
fastis._ scriptoribus._
1 KAL. F 1. Aesculapio
Vediovi in insula
2 F
3 C 3-5 (circa).
Compitalia or ludi
compitales.
4 C
5 NON. F
6 F
7 C
8 C
9 [NP] AGONIA
10 EN
11 NP CARMENTALIA 11. ‘Inturnalia’
Servius.
12 C
13 EID. NP
14 EN
15 NP CARMENTALIA
16 C
17 C
18 C
19 C
20 C
21 C
22 C
23 C
24 C 24-26. Sementivae or
Paganalia (Ovid)
(feriae
conceptivae).
25 C
26 C
27 C 27. Castori et
Polluci (dedication
of temple).
28 C
29 F
MENSIS FEBRUARIUS
_Fasti antiquissimi._ _Additamenta ex _Additamenta ex
fastis._ scriptoribus._
1 KAL. 1. Iunoni Sospitae
N (Ovid).
2 N
3 N
4 N
5 NON. 5. Concordiae in
NP arce (Praen.).
6 N
7 N
8 N
9 N
10 N
11 N
12 N
13 EID. 13. Fauno in insula 13-21. Parentalia.
NP (Esq.).
14 N
15 NP LUPERCALIA
16 EN
17 NP QUIRINALIA 17. Last day of
Fornacalia (feriae
conceptivae).
‘Stultorum feriae’
(Paulus, &c.).
18 C
19 C
20 C
21[60] FP FERALIA
22 C
23 NP TERMINALIA
24 N REGIFUGIUM
25 C
26 EN
27 NP EQUIRRIA
28 C
Footnote 53:
N. Maff. Cf. Mommsen, _C. I. L._ 294 b.
Footnote 54:
F. Tusc. Cf. Mommsen, _C. I. L._ 294 b.
Footnote 55:
NP. Antiat. N. minores 6.
Footnote 56:
F. Antiat. Allif. NP Vall.
Footnote 57:
NP Vall. C. Antiat. _C. I. L._ 294.
Footnote 58:
C. Vall. Antiat.
Footnote 59:
N. Antiat. Cf. _C. I. L._ 294.
Footnote 60:
F. Maff.
MENSIS MARTIUS.
The mensis Martius stands alone among the Roman months. Not only was it
the first in matters both civil and religious down to the time of Julius
Caesar, but it is more closely associated with a single deity than any
other, and that deity the protector and ancestor of the legendary
founder of the city. It bears too the name of the god, which is not the
case with any other month except January; and it is less certain that
January was named after Janus than that March was named after Mars. The
cult of Janus is not specially obvious in January except on a single
day; but the cult of Mars is paramount all through March, and gives a
peculiar character to the month’s worship.
It follows on a period which we may call one of purification, or the
performance of piacular duties towards dead ancestors and towards the
gods; and this has itself succeeded a time of general festivity in the
homestead, the group of homesteads, the market, and the cross-roads. The
rites of December and January are for the most part festive and social,
those of February mystic and melancholy—characteristics which have their
counterpart in the Christian Christmas, New Year, and Lent. The rites of
March are distinct from those of either period, as we shall see. They
again are followed by those of April, the opening month, which are gay
and apt to be licentious; then comes the mensis Maius or month of
growth, which is a time of peril for the crops, and has a certain
character of doubt and darkness in its rites; lastly comes June, the
month of maturity, when harvest is close at hand, and life begins to
brighten up once more. After this the Roman months cease to denote by
their names those workings of nature on which the husbandman’s fortune
for the year depends.
By a process of elimination we can make a guess at the kind of ideas
which must have been associated with the month which the Romans called
Martius, even before examining its rites in detail. It is the time when
the spring, whose first breath has been felt in February, begins to show
its power upon the land[61]. Some great _numen_ is at work, quickening
vegetation, and calling into life the powers of reproduction in man and
the animals. The way in which this quickening Power or Spirit was
regarded by primitive man has been very carefully investigated of recent
years, and though the variation is endless both in myth and in ritual,
we may now safely say that he was looked on as coming to new life after
a period of death, or as returning after an absence in the winter, or as
conquering the hostile powers that would hinder his activity. Among
civilized peoples these ideas only survive in legend or poetry, or in
some quaint bit of rural custom, often semi-dramatic, which may or may
not have found its way into the organized cults of a city state of
Greece or Italy, or even into the calendar of a Christian Church. But
when these survivals have been collected in vast numbers both from
modern Europe and from classical antiquity, and compared with the
existing ideas and practices of savage peoples, they can leave no doubt
in our minds as to the general character of the primitive husbandman’s
conception of the mysterious power at work in spring-time.
It was this Power, we can hardly doubt, that the Latins knew by the name
of Mars, the god whose cult is so prominent throughout the critical
period of the quickening processes. We know him in Roman literature as a
full-grown deity, with characteristics partly taken from the Greeks,
partly extended and developed by a state priesthood and the usage of a
growing and cosmopolitan city. We cannot trace him back, step by step,
to his earliest vague form as an undefined Spirit, Power, or _numen_; it
is very doubtful whether we can identify him, as mythologists have often
done, with anything so obvious and definite as the sun, which by itself
does not seem to have been held responsible by primitive peoples for the
workings of nature at this time of year. We do not even know for certain
the meaning of his name, and can get no sure help from comparative
philology. Nevertheless there is a good deal of cumulative evidence
which suggests a comparatively humble origin for this great god, some
points of which we shall meet with in studying his cult during the
month. The whole subject has been worked up by Roscher in the article on
Mars in his _Mythological Lexicon_, which has the great advantage of
being based on an entire re-examination of the Mars-cult, which he had
handled in an earlier essay on Apollo and Mars.
KAL. MART. (MARCH 1). NP.
FERIAE MARTI. (PRAEN.)
N̄ MARTIS. (PHILOC.)
IUN[O]NI LUCINAE E[S]QUILIIS QUOD EO DIE AEDES EI [DEDICA]TA EST PER
MATRONAS QUAM VOVERAT ALBI[NIA] ... VEL UXOR ... SI PUERUM ... [AT]QUE
IPSA[M].... (PRAEN.)
This was the New Year’s day of the Roman religious calendar. From
Macrobius[62] we learn that in his day the sacred fire of Vesta was now
renewed, and fresh laurels fixed on the Regia, the Curiae, and the
houses of the flamens; the custom therefore was kept up long after the
first of March had ceased to be the civil New Year. Ovid alludes to the
same rites, and adds the Aedes Vestae as also freshly decorated[63]:
Neu dubites, primae fuerint quin ante Kalendae
Martis, ad haec animum signa referre potes.
Laurea flaminibus quae toto perstitit anno
Tollitur, et frondes sunt in honore novae.
Ianua tunc regis posita viret arbore Phoebi;
Ante tuas fit idem, curia prisca, fores.
Vesta quoque ut folio niteat velata recenti,
Cedit ab Iliacis laurea cana focis.
The mention of these buildings carries us back to the very earliest
Rome, when the rex and his sons and daughters[64] (Flamines and
Vestales, in their later form) performed between them the whole
religious duty of the community; to these we may perhaps add the
warrior-priests of Mars (Salii). The connexion of the decoration with
the Mars-cult is probable, if not certain; the laurel was sacred to
Mars, for in front of his _sacrarium_ in the regia there grew two
laurels[65], and it has been conjectured that they supplied the boughs
used on this day[66].
March 1 is also marked in the calendar of Philocalus as the birthday of
Mars (N̄ = natalis Martis). This appears in no other calendar as yet
discovered, and is conspicuously absent in the Fasti Praenestini; it is
therefore very doubtful whether any weight should be given to a
fourth-century writer whose calendar had certainly an urban and not a
rustic basis[67]. There is no trace of allusion to a birth of Mars _on
this day_ in Latin literature, though the day is often mentioned. There
was indeed a pretty legend of such a birth, told by Ovid under May
2[68], which has its parallels in other mythologies; Juno became
pregnant of Mars by touching a certain flower of which the secret was
told her by Flora:
Protinus haerentem decerpsi pollice florem;
Tangitur et tacto concipit illa sinu.
Iamque gravis Thracen et Iaeva Propontidis intrat
Fitque potens voti, Marsque creatus erat.
Of this tale Preller remarked long ago that it has a Greek setting: it
is in fact in its Ovidian form a reflex from stories such as those of
the birth of Athena and of Kora. Yet it has been stoutly maintained[69]
that it sprang from a real Italian germ, and is a fragment of the lost
Italian mythology. Now, though it is certainly untrue that the Italians
had no native mythology, and though there are faint traces, as we shall
see, of tales about Mars himself, yet the Latins at least so rarely took
these liberties with their deities[70], that every apparent case of a
divine myth needs to be carefully examined and well supported. In this
case we must conclude that there is hardly any evidence for a general
belief that March 1 was the birthday of Mars; and that Ovid’s story of
Juno and Mars must be looked on with suspicion so far as these deities
are concerned.
The idea that Mars was born on March 1 might arise simply from the fact
that the day was the first of his month and also the first of the year.
It is possible however to account for it in another way. It was the
_dies natalis_ of the temple of Juno Lucina on the Esquiline, as we
learn from the note in the Fasti Praenestini; and this Juno had a
special power in childbirth. The temple itself was not of very ancient
date[71], but Juno had no doubt always been especially the matrons’
deity, and in a sense represented the female principle of life[72]. To
her all kalends were sacred, and more especially the first kalends of
the year, on which we find that wives received presents from their
husbands[73], and entertained their slaves. In fact the day was
sometimes called the Matronalia[74], though the name has no technical or
religious sense. Surely, if a mother was to be found for Mars, no one
could be more suitable that Juno Lucina; and if a day were to be fixed
for his birth, no day could be better than the first kalends of the
year, which was also the dedication-day of the temple of the goddess. At
what date the mother and the birthday were found for him it is
impossible to discover. The latter may be as late as the Empire; the
former may have been an older invention, since Mars seems to have been
apt to lend himself, under Greek or Etruscan influence, somewhat more
easily to legendary treatment than some other deities[75] But we may at
any rate feel pretty sure that it was the Matronalia on March 1 that
suggested the motherhood of Juno and the birth of Mars; and we cannot,
as Roscher does, use the Matronalia to show that these myths were old
and native[76].
Yet another legend was attached to this day. It was said that the
original _ancile_, or sacred shield of Mars, fell down from heaven[77],
or was found in the house of Numa[78], on March 1. This was the type
from which were copied the other eleven belonging to the collegium of
Salii Palatini; in the legend the smith who did this work was named
Mamurius, and was commemorated in the Salian hymn[79]. These are simply
fragments of a tangle of myth which grew up out of the mystery attaching
to the Salii, or dancing priests of Mars, and to the curious shields
which they carried, and the hymns which they sang[80]; in the latter we
know that the word _Mamuri_ often occurred, which is now generally
recognized as being only a variant of the name Mars[81]. We shall meet
with the word again later in the month. This also was the first day on
which the shields were ‘moved,’ as it was called; i. e. taken by the
Salii from the _sacrarium Martis_ in the Regia[82], and carried through
the city in procession. Dionysius (ii. 70) has left us a valuable
description of these processions, which continued till the 24th of the
month; the Salii leaped and danced, reminding the writer of the Greek
Curetes, and continually struck the shields with a short spear or
staff[83] as they sang their ancient hymns and performed their
rhythmical dances.
The original object and meaning of all these strange performances is now
fairly well made out, thanks to the researches of Müllenhoff, Mannhardt,
Roscher, Frazer and others. Roscher, in his comparison of Apollo and
Mars[84], pointed out the likeness in the spring festivals of the two
gods. At Delphi, at the Theophania (7th of Bysios = March), there were
decorations, sacrifices, dances, and songs; and of these last, some were
ὔμνοι κλητικοί, or invocations to the god to appear, some παιᾶνες, or
shouts of encouragement in his great fight with the dragon, or perhaps
intended to scare the dragon away. For Apollo was believed to return in
the spring, to be born anew, and to struggle in his infancy with the
demon of evil. At other places in Greece similar performances are found;
at Delos[85], at Ortygia[86] near Ephesus, at Tegyra, and elsewhere. At
Ortygia the Κουρῆτες stood and clashed their arms to frighten away Hera
the enemy of Apollo’s mother Leto, in the annual dramatic representation
of the perilous labour of the mother and the birth of her son. These
practices (and similar ones among northern peoples) seem to be the
result of the poetical mythology of an imaginative race acting on still
more primitive ideas. From all parts of the world Mr. Frazer has
collected examples of rites of this kind occurring at some period of
real or supposed peril, and often at the opening of a new year, in which
dances, howling, the beating of pots and pans, brandishing of arms, and
even firing of guns are thought efficacious in driving out evil spirits
which bring hurt of some kind to mankind or to the crops which are the
fruits of his labour[87]. This notion of evil spirits and the
possibility of expelling them is at the root of the whole series of
practices, which in the hands of the Greeks became adorned with a
beautiful mythical colouring, while the Romans after their fashion
embodied them in the cult of their city with a special priesthood to
perform them, and connected them with the name of their great priest
king.
In an elaborate note[88] Mr. Frazer has attempted to explain the rites
of the Salii in the light of the material he has collected. He is
inclined to see two objects in their performances: (1) the routing out
of demons of all kinds in order to collect them for transference to the
human scapegoat, Mamurius Veturius (see below on March 14), who was
driven out a fortnight later; and (2) to make the corn grow, by a charm
consisting in leaping and dancing, which is known in many parts of the
world. It will perhaps be safer to keep to generalities in matters of
which we have but slender knowledge; and to conclude that the old Latins
believed that the Spirit which was beginning to make the crops grow must
at this time be protected from hostile demons, in order that he might be
free to perform his own friendly functions for the community. Though the
few words preserved of the Salian hymns are too obscure to be of much
use[89], we seem to see in them a trace of a deity of vegetation; and
the prayer to Mars, which is given in Cato’s agricultural treatise, is
most instructive on this point[90].
The Salii in these processions were clothed in a _trabea_ and _tunica
picta_[91], the ‘full dress’ of the warrior inspired by some special
religious zeal, wearing helmet, breastplate, and sword. They carried the
_ancile_ on the left arm, and a staff or club of some kind to strike it
with[92]. At certain sacred places they stopped and danced, their
praesul giving them the step and rhythm; and here we may suppose that
they also sang the song of which a few fragments have come down to us,
where the recurring word Mamurius seems beyond doubt to be a variant of
Mars[93]. Each evening they rested at a different place—_mansiones
Saliorum_, as they were called—and here the sacred arms were hung up
till the next day, and the Salii feasted. They were twenty-four in
number, twelve Palatini and twelve Collini (originally Agonales or
Agonenses), the former specially devoted to the worship of Mars
Gradivus, the latter to that of Quirinus[94]. The antiquity of the
priesthood is proved by the fact that the Salii must be of patrician
birth, and _patrimi_ and _matrimi_ (i. e. with both parents living)
according to the ancient rule which descended from the worship of the
household[95].
It has been suggested that the shields (_ancilia_) which the Salii
carried, being twelve in number for each of the two guilds, represented
the twelve months of the year, either as twelve suns[96] (the sun being
renewed each month), or as twelve moons, which is a little more
reasonable. This idea implies that the number of the Salii (which was
the same as that of the Fratres Arvales) was based on the number of
months in the year, which is very far from likely; it would seem also to
assume that the shape of the shields was round, like sun or moon, which
was almost certainly not the case. According to the legend, the original
shield fell on the first new moon of the year; but it is quite
unnecessary to jump to the conclusion that the others represent eleven
other new moons. It would rather seem probable to a cautious inquirer
that though an incrustation of late myth may have grown upon the Salii
and their carmen and their curious arms, no amount of ingenious
combination has as yet succeeded in proving that such myths had their
origin in any really ancient belief of the Romans. What we know for
certain is that there were twelve warrior-priests of the old Palatine
city, and that they carried twelve shields of an antique type, which
Varro compares to the Thracian peltae (_L. L._ 7. 43); shaped not unlike
the body of a violin, with a curved indentation on each side[97], which,
when the shield was slung on the back, would leave space for the arms to
move freely. In this respect, as in the rest of his equipment, the
Salius simply represented the old Italian warrior in his ‘war-paint.’ In
the examples of expulsion of evils referred to above as collected by Mr.
Frazer, it is interesting to notice how often the expellers use military
arms, or are dressed in military fashion. This may perhaps help us to
understand how attributes apparently so distinct as the military and the
agricultural should be found united in Mars and his cult.
NON. MART. (MARCH 7). F.
... [VEDI]OVI. ARTIS VEDIOVIS INTER DUOS LUCOS. (PRAEN.)
Various conjectures have been made for correcting this note. We may take
it that the first word is rightly completed: some letters seem to have
preceded it, and _feriae_ has been suggested[98], but not generally
accepted. The next word, _Artis_, must be a slip of the stone-cutter.
That it was not Martis we are sure, as Ovid says that there was no note
in the Fasti for this day except on the cult of Vediovis[99]. Even
Mommsen is in despair, but suggests _Aedis_ as a possibility, and that
_dedicata_ was accidentally omitted after it.
We do not know when the temple was dedicated[100]. The cult of Vediovis
seems to have no special connexion with other March rites: and it seems
as well to postpone consideration of it till May 21, the dedication-day
of the temple _in arce_. See also on Jan. 1.
VII ID. MART. (MARCH 9). C.
ARMA ANCILIA MOVENT. (PHILOC.)
As we have seen, the first ‘moving’ of the ancilia was on the 1st. This
is the second mentioned in the calendars; the third, according to Lydus
(4. 42), was on the 23rd (Tubilustrium, q.v.). As the Salii seem to have
danced with the shields all through the month up to the 24th[101], it
has been supposed that these were the three principal days of ‘moving’;
and Mr. Marindin suggests that they correspond to the three most
important _mansiones Saliorum_, of which two were probably the Curia
Saliorum on the Palatine and the Sacrarium Martis in the Regia[102].
PRID. ID. MART. (MARCH 14). NP.
EQUIRR[IA]. (MAFF. VAT. ESQ.)
FERIAE MARTI. (VAT.)
SACRUM MAMURIO. (RUSTIC CALENDARS[103].)
MAMURALIA. (PHILOC.)
These notes involve several difficulties. To begin with, this day is an
even number, and there is no other instance in the calendar of a
festival occurring on such a day. Wissowa[104], usually a very cautious
inquirer, here boldly cuts the knot by conjecturing that the Mars
festival of this day had originally been on the next, i.e. the Ides, but
was put back one day to enable the people to frequent both the
horse-races (Equirria) and the festival of Anna Perenna[105]. The
latter, he might have added, was obviously extremely popular with the
lower classes, as we shall see from Ovid’s description; and though the
scene of it was close to that of the Equirria, or certainly not far
away, it is not impossible that it may have diverted attention from the
nobler and more manly amusement. Wissowa strengthens his argument by
pointing out an apparent parallel between the festival dates of March
and October. Here, as elsewhere, in the calendar, we find an interval of
three days between two festivals, viz. between March 19 (Quinquatrus)
and March 23 (Tubilustrium), and between Oct. 15 (‘October horse’) and
Oct. 19 (Armilustrium). Now, as we shall see, the rites of March 19 and
Oct. 19 seem to correspond to each other[106]; and if there were a
chariot-race on March 15, it would also answer to the race on the day of
the ‘October horse,’ Oct. 15, with a three days’ interval as in October.
The argument is not a very strong one, but there is a good deal to be
said for it.
A much more serious difficulty lies in the discrepancy between the three
older calendars in which we have notes for this day and the almanacs of
the later Empire, viz. that of Philocalus (A.D. 354) and the rustic
calendars. The former tell us of a Mars-festival, with a horse-race; the
latter know nothing of these, but note a festival of Mamurius, a name
which, as we saw, occurred in the Saliare Carmen apparently as a variant
of Mars, and came to be affixed to the legendary smith who made the
eleven copies of the ancile. How are we to account for the change of
Mars into Mamurius, and of feriae Marti into Mamuralia? And are we to
suppose that the later calendars here indicate a late growth of legend,
based on the name Mamurius as occurring in the Carmen Saliare, or that
they have preserved the shadow of an earlier and popular side of the
March rites, which the State-calendars left out of account?
Apparently Mommsen holds the former opinion[107]. In his note on this
day he says that it is easy to understand how the second Equirria came
to be known to the _vulgus_ as Mamuralia (i.e. so distinguished from the
first Equirria on Feb. 27), seeing that Mamurius who made the ancilia
belongs wholly to the cult of Mars, and that this day was one of those
on which the Salii and the ancilia were familiar sights in the streets
of Rome. In other words, the Salian songs gave rise to the legend of
Mamurius, and this in its turn gave a new name to the second Equirria or
feriae Marti. And this I believe to be the most rational explanation of
our difficulty, seeing that we have no mention of a feast of Mamurius
earlier than the calendar of Philocalus in the fourth century A.D.,
which cannot be regarded as in any sense representing learning or
research[108].
But of recent years much has been written in favour of the other view,
that the late calendars have here preserved for us a trace of very
ancient Roman belief and ritual[109]. This view rests almost entirely on
a statement of a still later writer, Laurentius Lydus of Apamea, who
wrote a work, _de Mensibus_, in the first half of the sixth century
A.D., preserved in part in the form of two summaries or collections of
extracts. Lydus was no doubt a man of learning, as is shown by his other
work, _de Magistratibus_; but he does not give us his authority for
particular statements, and his second- or third-hand knowledge must
always be cautiously used.
Lydus tells us that on the Ides of March (a mistake, it is
supposed[110], for the 14th—which, however, he should not have made), a
man clothed in skins was led out and driven with long peeled wands (out
of the city, as we may guess from what follows) and shouted at as
‘Mamurius.’ Hence the saying, when any one is beaten, that they are
‘playing Mamurius with him.’ For the legend runs that Mamurius the smith
was beaten out of the city because misfortune fell on the Romans when
they substituted the new shields (made by Mamurius) for those that had
fallen from heaven[111].
This is clearly a late form of the Mamurius-myth: in all the earlier
accounts[112] only one ancile is said to have fallen from heaven. Lydus
seems rather to be thinking of twelve original ones[113], and twelve
copies—perhaps of the Palatine and Colline ancilia respectively. If the
form of the myth, then, is of late growth, suspicion may well be aroused
as to the antiquity of the rite it was meant to explain, for with the
older type of myth the rite does not seem to suit. And this suspicion is
strengthened by the fact that in the whole of Latin literature there is
no certain allusion to a rite so striking and peculiar, and only one
that can possibly, even by forcible treatment, be taken as such. In
Propertius v (iv.) 2. 61, we have the following lines, put into the
mouth of the god Vertumnus:
At tibi, Mamuri, formae caelator aenae,
Tellus artifices ne premat Osca manus,
Qui me tam docilis potuisti fundere in usus.
Unum opus est: operi non datur unus honos.
Usener took this to mean, or to imply, that Mamurius was driven out of
the city to its enemies the Oscans; but how we are to get this out of
the words, which will bear very different interpretations, obscure as
they are, it is not easy to see. And can we easily believe that, with
this exception, no allusion should be found to the rite in either Latin
or Greek writers—not in Ovid, Dionysius, Servius, Plutarch[114], or in
the fragments of Varro, Varrius, and others—if that curious rite had
really been enacted year by year before the eyes of the Roman people? It
certainly is not impossible that it may have slipped their notice, or
have been mentioned in works that are lost to us; but it is so
improbable as to justify us in hesitating to base conclusions as to the
antiquity of the rite on the statement of Lydus alone.
There are indeed one or two passages which seem to prove that _skins_
were used by the Salii, and that these skins were _beaten_. Servius[115]
says of Mamurius that they consecrated a day to him, on which ‘pellem
virgis caedunt ad artis similitudinem,’ i. e. on which they imitate the
smith’s art by beating a skin. So also Minucius Felix[116]: ‘alii (we
should probably read _Salii_) incedunt pileati, scuta vetera[117]
circumferunt, pelles caedunt.’ If we may judge by these passages of
writers of the second century, there was something done by the Salii
which involved the beating of skins; but if it was a skin-clad Mamurius
who was beaten, why is he not mentioned, and why did they, as Servius
says (and the context shows that he is speaking of him with all
respect), set apart a day in his honour?
Yet Lydus’ account is so interesting from the point of view of
folk-lore, that Usener was led by it into very far-reaching conclusions.
These have been so well condensed in English by Mr. Frazer that my
labour will be lightened if I may borrow his account[118]:
‘Every year on March 14 a man clad in skins was led in procession
through the streets of Rome, beaten with long white rods, and driven out
of the city. He was called Mamurius Veturius[119], that is, “the old
Mars,” and as the ceremony took place on the day preceding the first
full moon of the old Roman year[120] (which began on March 1), the
skin-clad man must have represented the Mars of the past year, who was
driven out at the beginning of a new one. Now Mars was originally not a
god of war, but of vegetation. For it was to Mars that the Roman
husbandman prayed for the prosperity of his corn and vines, his
fruit-trees and his copses; it was to Mars that the Arval Brothers,
whose business it was to sacrifice for the growth of the crops,
addressed their petitions almost exclusively.... Once more, the fact
that the vernal month of March was dedicated to Mars seems to point him
out as the deity of the sprouting vegetation. Thus the Roman custom of
expelling the old Mars at the beginning of the New Year in spring is
identical with the Slavonic custom of “carrying out Death[121],” if the
view here taken of the latter custom is correct. The similarity of the
Roman and Slavonic customs has been already remarked by scholars, who
appear, however, to have taken Mamurius Veturius and the corresponding
figures in the Slavonic ceremonies to be representatives of the old year
rather than of the old god of vegetation. It is possible that ceremonies
of this kind may have come to be thus interpreted in later times even by
the people who practised them. But the personification of a period of
time is too abstract an idea to be primitive. However, in the Roman, as
in the Slavonic ceremony, the representative of the god appears to have
been treated not only as a deity of vegetation, but also as a
scape-goat[122]. His expulsion implies this; for there is no reason why
the god of vegetation, as such, should be expelled the city. But it is
otherwise if he is also a scape-goat; it then becomes necessary to drive
him beyond the boundaries, that he may carry his sorrowful burden away
to other lands. And, in fact, Mamurius Veturius appears to have been
driven away to the lands of the Oscans, the enemies of Rome[123].’
My examination of the evidence will, I hope, have made it clear why I
hesitate to endorse these conclusions in their entirety (as I did for
many years), interesting as they are. I rather incline to believe that
the whole Mamurius-legend grew out of the Carmen Saliare, and that we
may either have here one of those comparatively rare examples of later
ritual growing itself out of myth, or a point of ancient ritual, such as
the use of skins—perhaps those of victims—misinterpreted and possibly
altered under the influence of the myth. As to Lydus’ statement, it is
better to suspend our judgement; he may, for all we know, have confused
some foreign custom, or that of some other Italian town where there were
Salii, with the ritual of a Roman priesthood[124]. In any case, his
account is too much open to question to bear the weight of conjecture
that has been piled upon it.
ID. MART. (MARCH 15). NP.
FERIAE[125] ANNAE PERENNAE VIA FLAM[INIA] AD LAPIDEM PRIM[UM]. (VAT.)
ANNAE PER. (FARN.)
This is a survival of an old popular festival, as is clearly seen from
Ovid’s account of it; but the absence of any mention of it in the rustic
calendars or in those of Philocalus and Silvius leads us to suppose that
it had died out in the early Empire. This may be accounted for by the
fact that the people came to be more and more attracted by spectacles
and games; and also by the ever-increasing cosmopolitanism of the city
populace, which would be continually losing interest in old Roman
customs which it could not understand.
On this day, Ovid tells us[126], the ‘plebs’ streamed out to the ‘festum
geniale’ of Anna Perenna, and taking up a position in the Campus
Martius, not far from the Tiber[127], and lying about on the grass in
pairs of men and women, passed the day in revelry and drinking[128].
Some lay in the open; some pitched tents and some constructed rude huts
of stakes and branches, stretching their togas over them for shelter. As
they drank they prayed for as many years of life as they can swallow
cups of wine; meanwhile singing snatches of song with much gesticulation
and dancing. The result of these performances was naturally that they
returned to the city in a state of intoxication. Ovid tells us that he
had seen this spectacle himself[129].
Whether there was any sacrificial rite in immediate connexion with these
revels we do not know. Macrobius indeed tells us[130] that sacrifice was
offered in the month of March to Anna Perenna ‘ut annare perannareque
commode liceat’[131]; and Lydus, that on the Ides there were εὐχαὶ
δημόσιαι ὑπὲρ τοῦ ὑγιεινὸν γενέσθαι τὸν ἐνιαυτόν; but we do not know
what was the relation between these and the scene described by Ovid.
Who was the Anna Perenna in whose honour these revels, sacrifices, and
prayers took place, whatever their relation to each other? Ovid and
Silius Italicus[132] tell legends about her which are hardly genuine
Italian, and in which Anna Perenna is confused with the other Anna whom
they knew, the sister of Dido. Hidden under such stories may sometimes
be found traces of a belief or a cult of which we have no other
knowledge; but in this poetical medley there seems to be only one
feature that calls on us to pause. After her wanderings Anna disappears
in the waters of the river Numicius:
Corniger hanc cupidis rapuisse Numicius undis
Creditur, et stagnis occuluisse suis.
Her companions traced her footsteps to the bank: she seemed to tell them
Placidi sum nympha Numici,
Amne perenne latens Anna Perenna vocor.
This tale led Klausen[133] into some very strange fancies about the
goddess, whom he regarded as a water-nymph, thinking that all her other
characteristics (e.g. the year) might be explained symbolically; the
running water representing the flow of time, &c. But it is probable that
she only came into connexion with the river Numicius because Aeneas was
there already. If Aeneas, as Jupiter Indiges, was buried on its
banks[134], what could be more natural than that another figure of the
Dido legend should be brought there too? There does not indeed seem to
be any reason for connecting the real Anna Perenna with water[135]. All
genuine Roman tradition seems to represent her, as we shall see
directly, as an old woman; and when she appears in another shape, she
must have become mixed up with other ideas and stories. It may perhaps
be just possible that on this day some kind of an image of her may have
been thrown into the Tiber, as was the case with the straw puppets
(Argei) on May 15, and that the ceremony dropped out of practice, but
just survived in the Numicius legend[136]. But this is simply
hypothesis.
The fact is that, whatever else Anna Perenna may have been, all that we
can confidently say of her is that she represented in some way the
circle or ring of the year. This is indicated not only by the name,
which can hardly be anything but a feminine form of _annus_, but by the
time at which her festival took place, the first full moon of the new
year. The one legend preserved about her which is of undoubted Italian
origin is thought to point in the same direction. Ovid, wishing to
explain ‘cur cantent obscena puellae’ in that revel of the ‘plebs’ on
the Tiber-bank, tells us[137] how Mars, once in love with Minerva[138],
came to Anna and asked her aid. It was at length granted, and Mars had
the nuptial couch prepared: thither a bride was led, but not the desired
one; it was old Anna with her face veiled like a bride who was playing
the passionate god such a trick as we may suppose not uncommon in the
rude country life of old Latium.
There is no need to be startled at the rude handling of the gods in this
story, which seems so unlike the stately and orderly ideas of Roman
theology. It must be borne in mind that folk-tales like this need not
originally have been applied to the gods at all. They are probably only
ancient country stories of human beings, based on some rude marriage
custom—stories such as delighted the lower farm folk and slaves on
holiday evenings; and they have survived simply because they became in
course of time attached to the persons of the gods, as the conception of
divinities grew to be more anthropomorphic. Granted that Anna or
Perenna[139] was the old woman of the _past_ year, that Mars was the god
of the first month, and that the story as applied to human beings was a
favourite one, we can easily understand how it came to attach itself to
the persons of the gods[140].
Yet another story is told by Ovid of an Anna[141], in writing of whom he
does not add the name Perenna. The Plebs had seceded to the Mons Sacer,
and were beginning to suffer from starvation, when an old woman from
Bovillae, named Anna, came to the rescue with a daily supply of _rustica
liba_. This myth seems to me to have grown out of the custom, to be
described directly, of old women[142] selling _liba_ on the 17th
(Liberalia), the custom having been transferred to that day through an
etymological confusion between _liba_ and _Liberalia_. Usener, however,
saw here a connexion between Anna and Annona[143]; and recently it has
been suggested that a certain Egyptian Anna, who is said by Plutarch to
have invented a mould for bread-baking, may have found her way to Rome
through Greek channels[144].
XVI KAL. APR. (MARCH 17). NP.
LIB[ERALIA]. (MAFF. FARN. RUST.)
LIB. AG[ONIA]. LIBERO LIB. (CAER.)
AG[ONIA]. (VAT.)
LIBERO IN CA[PITOLIO]. (FARN.)
This is one of the four days marked AG. or AGON. in the Fasti (Jan. 9,
May 21, Dec. 11)[145]. It is curious that on this day two of the old
calendars should mark the Liberalia only, and one the Agonia only, and
one both. The day was generally known as Liberalia[146]; the other name
seems to have been known to the priests only, and more especially to the
Salii Collini or Agonenses[147], who must have had charge of the
sacrifice. Wissowa seems to be right in thinking (_de Feriis_ xii) that
the conjunction of Liberalia and Agonia is purely accidental, and that
the day took its common name from the former simply because, as the
latter occurred four times in the year, confusion would be likely to
arise.
Liber is beyond doubt an old Italian deity, whose true nature, like that
of so many others, came to be overgrown with Greek ideas and rites.
There is no sign of any connexion between this festival and the cult of
Dionysus; hence we infer that there was an old Latin Liber before the
arrival of the Greek god in Italy. What this god was, however, can
hardly be inferred from his cult, of which we only know a single
feature, recorded by Ovid[148]. He tells us that old women, _sacerdotes
Liberi_, sat crowned with ivy all about the streets on this day with
cakes of oil and honey (_liba_), and a small portable altar (_foculus_),
on which to sacrifice for the benefit of the buyer of these cakes. This
tells us nothing substantial, and we have to fall back on the
name—always an uncertain method. The best authorities seem now agreed in
regarding the word Liber (whatever be its etymology) as having something
of the same meaning as _genius_, forming an adjective _liberalis_ as
_genius_ forms _genialis_, and meaning a creative, productive spirit,
full of blessing, and so generous, free, &c.[149] If this were so it
would not be unnatural that the characteristics and rites of Dionysus
should find here a stem on which to engraft themselves, or that Liber
should become the object of obscene ceremonies which need not be
detailed here, and also the god of the Italian vine-growers.
It is possible that Liber may have been an ancient cult-title of
Jupiter; we do in fact find a Jupiter Liber in inscriptions, though the
combination is uncommon[150]. In that case Liber may have been an
emanation or off-shoot from Jupiter, as Silvanus probably was from
Mars[151]. But I am disposed to think that the characteristics of Liber,
so far as we know them, are not in keeping with those of Jupiter; and
that the process was rather of the opposite kind, that is, the cult of
Liber in its later form became attached to that of Jupiter, who was
always the presiding deity of vineyards and wine-making[152].
This was also the usual day on which boys assumed the toga virilis (toga
recta, pura, _libera_):
Restat ut inveniam quare toga libera detur
Lucifero pueris, candide Bacche, tuo.
Sive quod es Liber, vestis quoque libera per te
Sumitur et vitae liberioris iter[153].
We know indeed that in the late Republic and Empire other days were used
for this ceremony: Virgil took his toga on Oct. 15, Octavian on Oct. 18,
Tiberius on April 24, Nero on July 7[154]; but it is likely that this
day was in earlier times the regular one, in spite of the inconvenience
of a disparity of age thence resulting amongst the tirones. For whether
or no the _toga libera_ has any real connexion with the Liberalia, this
was the time when the army was called out for the year, and when the
tirones would be required to present themselves[155]. Ovid tells us that
on this day the rustic population flocked into the city for the
Liberalia, and the opportunity was doubtless taken to make known the
list of tirones, as the boys were called when the toga was assumed and
they were ready for military service.
They sacrificed, it appears, before leaving home and again on the
Capitol, either to Pubertas or Liber, or both[156].
On this day also, according to Ovid, and also on the previous one, some
kind of a procession ‘went to the Argei’[157]; by which word is meant,
we may be almost sure, the Argeorum sacella. There were in various parts
of the four regions of the Servian city a number of sacella or sacraria,
which were called Argei, Argea, or Argeorum sacella. What these were we
never shall know for certain; but we may be fairly sure that their
number was twenty-four, six for each region; the same number as that of
the rush puppets or simulacra also called Argei, which were thrown into
the Tiber by the Vestal Virgins on May 15. The identity of the name and
number leads to the belief that there was a connexion between these
sacella and the simulacra; but the very difficult questions which arose
about both must be postponed till we have before us the whole of the
ceremonial, i. e. that of May 15 as well as that of March 17. About this
last we know nothing and can at best attempt to infer its character from
the ceremony in May, of which we fortunately have some particulars on
which we can fully rely.
KAL. XIV APR. (MARCH 19). NP CAER. VAT. N. MAFF.
QUINQ[VATRUS]. (CAER. MAFF. PRAEN. VAT. FARN.)
QUINQUATRIA. (RUST. PHIL. SILV.)
A note is appended in Praen., which is thus completed by Mommsen with
the help of a Verrian gloss (Fest. 254).
[RECTIUS TAMEN ALII PUTARUNT DICTUM AB EO QUOD HIC DIES EST POST DIEM V
IDUS. QUO]D IN LATIO POST [IDUS DIES SIMILI FERE RATIONE DECLI]NARENTUR.
FERIAE MARTI (VAT.)
[SALI] FACIUNT IN COMITIO SALTUS [ADSTANTIBUS PO]NTIFICIBUS ET
TRIB[UNIS] CELER[UM]. Praen., in which we find yet another note:
ARTIFICUM DIES [QUOD MINERVAE] AEDIS IN AVENTINO EO DIE EST [DEDICATA].
The original significance of this day is indicated by the note Feriae
Marti in Vat., and also by that in Praen., which has been amplified with
tolerable certainty. The Salii were active this day in the worship of
Mars, and the scene of their activity was the _Comitium_. With this
agrees, as Mommsen has pointed out, the statement of Varro[158] that the
_Comitium_ was the scene of some of their performances, though he does
not mention which. More light is thrown on the matter by the grammarian
Charisius[159], who, in suggesting an explanation of the name
Quinquatrus by which this day was generally known, remarks that it was
derived from a verb _quinquare_, to purify, ‘quod eo die arma ancilia
lustrari sint solita.’ His etymology is undoubtedly wrong, but the
reason given for it is valuable[160]. The ancilia were purified on this
day (perhaps by the Salii dancing around them), and thus it exactly
answers to the Armilustrium on Oct. 19, just as the horse-races on the
Ides of March, if that indeed were the original day, correspond to the
ceremony of the ‘October horse’[161].
The object and meaning of the lustratio in each case is not, however,
quite clear. Since in March the season of war began, and ended, no
doubt, originally in October[162], and as the Salii seem to be a kind of
link between the religious and military sides of the state’s life, we
are tempted to guess that the lustration of the ancilia represented in
some way the lustration of the arms of the entire host, or perhaps that
the latter were all lustrated so as to be ready for use, on this day,
and once again on Oct. 19 before they were put away for the winter. In
this latter case the Salii would be the leaders of, as well as sharers
in, a general purifying process. And that this is the right view seems
to be indicated by Verrius’ note in the Praenestine calendar, from which
it is clear that the _tribuni celerum_ were present, and took some part
in the ceremony. These tribuni were almost certainly the three leaders
of the original cavalry force of the three ancient tribes, and they seem
to have united both priestly and military characteristics[163]; and from
their presence in the Comitium may perhaps also be inferred that of the
leaders of the infantry _tribuni militum_. In the earliest times,
therefore, the arms of the whole host may have been lustrated in the
presence of its leaders, the Salii, so to speak, performing the service;
but in later times the Salii alone were left, and their arms alone
lustrated, though possibly individuals representing the ancient _tribuni
celerum_ may have appeared as congregation.
But this day was generally known as Quinquatrus, simply because it was
the fifth day after the Ides[164]; i.e. there was a space of three days
between the Ides and the festival. Such intervals of three days, either
between the Ides and the festival or between one festival and another,
occur several times in the Roman calendar[165], though in this instance
alone the day following the interval appears in the calendars as
Quinquatrus. The term was no doubt a pontifical one, and the meaning was
unknown to the common people; in any case it came to be misunderstood,
and was in later times popularly applied to the four days following the
festival as well as the festival itself; its first syllable being taken
to indicate a five-day period instead of the fifth day after the Ides.
This popular mistake led to still further confusion owing to a curious
change in the religious character of these days, about the nature of
which there can be no serious doubt.
The 19th came to be considered as sacred to Minerva[166], because a
temple to that goddess was consecrated on this day, on the Caelian or
the Aventine, or possibly both[167]. There is no obvious connexion
between Mars and Minerva; and it is now thought probable that Minerva
has here simply taken the place of another goddess, Nerio—one almost
lost to sight in historical times, but of whose early connexion with
Mars some faint traces are to be found. Thus where we find Minerva
brought into close relation with Mars, as in the myth of Anna Perenna,
it is thought that we should read Nerio instead of Minerva[168]. This
conclusion is strengthened by a note of Porphyrion on Horace _Epist._
ii. 2. 209 ‘Maio mense religio est nubere, et etiam Martio, in quo de
nuptiis habito certamine a Minerva Mars victus est: obtenta virginitate
Neriene est appellata.’ As Neriene must = Nerio[169], this looks much
like an attempt to explain the occurrence of two female names, Minerva
and Nerio, in the same story; the original heroine, Nerio, having been
supplanted by the later Minerva[170].
Of this Nerio much, perhaps too much, has been made in recent years by
ingenious scholars. A complete love-story has been discovered, in which
Mars, at first defeated in his wooing, as Porphyrion tells us in the
passage just quoted, eventually becomes victorious; for Nerio is called
wife of Mars in a fragment of an old comedy by Licinius Imbrex, in a
passage of Plautus, and in a prayer put into the mouth of Hersilia by
Gellius the annalist, when she asked for peace at the hand of T.
Tatius[171]. And this story has been fitted on, without sufficient
warrant, to the Mars-festivals of this month. Mars is supposed to have
been born on the Kalends, to have grown wondrously between Kalends and
Ides, to have fallen then in love with Nerio, to have been fooled as we
saw by Anna Perenna, to have been rejected and defeated by his
sweetheart, and finally to have won her as his wife on the 19th[172].
Are we to find here a fragment of real Italian mythology, or an
elaborate example of the Graecizing anthropomorphic tendencies of the
third and second centuries B.C.?
The question is a difficult one, and lies rather outside the scope of
this work. Those who have read Usener’s brilliant paper will find it
hard to shake themselves free of the conviction that he has unearthed a
real myth, unless they carefully study the chapter of Aulus Gellius
which is its chief foundation. Such a study has brought me back to the
conviction that Plautus and the others were writing in terms of the
fashionable modes of thought of their day, and were not appealing to
popular ideas of the relations of Italian deities to each other[173].
Aulus Gellius begins by quoting a _comprecatio_ from the book of the
_Libri sacerdotum populi Romani_. ‘In his scriptum est: Luam Saturni,
Salaciam Neptuni, Horam Quirini, Virites Quirini, Maiam Volcani, Heriem
Iunonis, Moles Martis Nerienemque Martis.’ A glance at the names thus
coupled together is enough to show that Mars is not here thought of as
the husband of Neriene; the names Lua, Salacia, &c., seem rather to
express some characteristic of the deity with whose name they are joined
or some mode of his operation[174]; and Gellius himself, working on an
etymology of Nerio which has generally been accepted as correct,
explains the name thus: ‘Nerio igitur Martis vis et potentia et maiestas
quaedam esse Martis demonstratur.’ In the latter part of his chapter,
after quoting Plautus, he says that he has heard the poet blamed by an
eminent critic for the strange and false notion that Nerio was the wife
of Mars; but he is inclined to think that there was a real tradition to
that effect, and cites his namesake the annalist and Licinius Imbrex in
support of his view.
But neither annalist nor play-writer can stand against that passage from
the sacred books with which he began his chapter; and if we give the
latter its due weight, the value of the others is relatively diminished.
It appears to me that the one represents the true primitive Italian idea
of divine powers, which with its abundance of names offered excellent
opportunities to anthropomorphic tendencies of the Graecizing school,
while the others show those tendencies actually producing their results.
Any conclusion on the point must be of the nature of a guess; but I am
strongly disposed to think (1) that Nerio was not originally an
independent deity, but a name attached to Mars expressive of some aspect
of his power, (2) that the name gradually became endowed with
personality, and (3) that out of the combination of Mars and Nerio the
Graecizing school developed a myth of which the fragments have been
taken by Usener and his followers as pure Roman.
Having once been displaced by Minerva, Nerio vanished from the calendar,
and with her that special aspect of Mars—whatever it may have been—which
the name was intended to express. The five days, 18th to 23rd, became
permanently associated with Minerva. The 19th was the dedication-day of
at least one of her temples, and counted as her birthday[175]: the 23rd
was the Tubilustrium, with a sacrifice to ‘dea fortis,’ who seems to
have been taken for Minerva, owing to an incorrect idea that the latter
was specially the deity of trumpet-players[176]. She was no doubt an old
Italian deity of artificers and trade-guilds; but the Tubilustrium was
really a Mars-festival, and Minerva had no immediate connexion with it.
X KAL. APR. (MARCH 23). NP.
TUBILUST[RIUM]. (CAER. MAFF. VAT. FARN. MIN. III.)
TUBILUSTRIUM. (PHILOC.)
Note in Praen.: [FERIAE] MARTI[177]. HIC DIES APPELLATUR ITA, QUOD IN
ATRIO SUTORIO TUBI LUSTRANTUR, QUIBUS IN SACRIS UTUNTUR. LUTATIUS QUIDEM
CLAVAM EAM AIT ESSE IN RUINIS PALA[TI I]NCENSI A GALLIS REPERTAM, QUA
ROMULUS URBEM INAUGURAVERIT.
IX KAL. APR. (MARCH 24). NP.
Q. R. C. F. (VAT. CAER.)
Q. REX. C. F. (MAFF. PRAEN.)
Note in Praen.: HUNC DIEM PLERIQUE PERPERAM INTERPRETANTES PUTANT
APPELLAR[I] QUOD EO DIE EX COMITIO FUGERIT [REX: N]AM NEQUE TARQUINIUS
ABIIT EX COMITIO [URBIS], ET ALIO QUOQUE MENSE EADEM SUNT [IDEMQUE
S]IGNIFICANT. QU[ARE COMITIIS PERACTIS IUDICI]A FIERI INDICA[RI IIS
MAGIS PUTAMUS][178].
These two days must be taken in connexion with the 23rd and 24th of May,
which are marked in the calendars in exactly the same way. The
explanation suggested by Mommsen is simple and satisfactory[179]; the
24th of March and of May were the two fixed days on which the _comitia
curiata_ met for the sanctioning of wills[180] under the presidency of
the Rex. The 23rd in each month, called Tubilustrium, would be the day
of the lustration of the _tubae_ or _tubi_ used in summoning the
assembly. The letters Q. R. C. F. (quando rex comitiavit fas) mean that
on the days so marked proceedings in the courts might only begin when
the king had dissolved the Comitia.
The _tuba_, as distinguished from the _tibia_, which was the typical
Italian instrument, was a long straight tube of brass with a bell
mouth[181]. It was used chiefly in military[182] and religious
ceremonies; and as the _comitia curiata_ was an assembly both for
military and religious objects, this would suit well with Mommsen’s idea
of the object of the lustration. The Tubilustrium was the day on which
these instruments, which were to be used at the meeting of the comitia
on the following day, were purified by the sacrifice of a lamb. Of the
Atrium Sutorium, where the rite took place, we know nothing.
There are some words at the end of Verrius’ note in the Praenestine
Calendar, which, as Mommsen has pointed out[183], come in abruptly and
look as if something had dropped out: ‘Lutatius quidem clavam eam ait
esse in ruinis Pala[ti i]ncensi a Gallis repertam, qua Romulus urbem
inauguraverit.’ This _clava_ must be the _lituus_ of Romulus, mentioned
by Cicero[184], which was found on the Palatine and kept in the Curia
Saliorum. We cannot, however, see clearly what Verrius or his excerptor
meant to tell us about it; there would seem to have been a confusion
between _lituus_ in the sense of _baculum_ and _lituus_ in the sense of
a _tuba incurva_. The latter was in use as well as the ordinary straight
_tuba_[185]; in shape it closely resembled the _clava_ of the augur, and
perhaps the resemblance led to the notion that it was the _clava_ of
Romulus and not a _tuba_ which was this day purified with the other
_tubae_.
* * * * *
We can learn little or nothing from the calendar of this month about the
origin of Mars, and we have no other sufficient evidence on which to
base a satisfactory conjecture. But from the cults of the month, and
partly also from those of October, we can see pretty clearly what ideas
were prominent in his worship even in the early days of the Roman state.
They were chiefly two, and the two were closely connected. He was the
Power who must be specially invoked to procure the safety of crops and
cattle; and secondly, in his keeping were the safety and success of the
freshly-enrolled host with its armour and its trumpets. In short, he was
that deity to whom the most ancient Romans looked for aid at the season
when all living things, man included, broke into fresh activity. He
represents the characteristics of the early Roman more exactly than any
other god; for there are two things which we may believe with certainty
about the Roman people in the earliest times—(1) that their life and
habits of thought were those of an agricultural race; and (2) that they
continually increased their cultivable land by taking forcible
possession in war of that of their neighbours.
Footnote 61:
See Nissen, _Italienische Landeskunde_, i. 404; Ovid, _Fasti_, 3. 235—
Quid, quod hiems adoperta gelu tunc denique cedit,
Et pereunt victae sole tepente nives,
Arboribus redeunt detonsae frigore frondes,
Uvidaque in tenero palmite gemma tumet:
Quaeque diu latuit, nunc se qua tollat in auras,
Fertilis occultas invenit herba vias.
Nunc fecundus ager: pecoris nunc hora creandi,
Nunc avis in ramo tecta laremque parat.
Tempora iure colunt Latiae fecunda parentes
Quarum militiam votaque partus habet.
Here we have the fertility of man, beast, and crop, all brought
together: the poet is writing of March 1. The Romans reckoned spring
from Favonius (Feb. 7) to about May 10 (Varro, _R. R._ 1. 38); March 1
would therefore usually be a day on which its first effects would be
obvious to every one.
Footnote 62:
Sat. 1. 12. 6; Ovid, _Fasti_, 3. 135 foll.
Footnote 63:
Ovid only mentions one ‘curia’: in Macrobius the word is in the
plural. Ovid must, I think, refer to the curia Saliorum on the
Palatine (Marq. 431), as this was the day on which the Salii began
their rites. Macrobius may be including the curia of the Quirinal
Salii (Preller, i. 357).
Footnote 64:
See below, on the Vestalia in June, p. 147.
Footnote 65:
Julius Obsequens, 19.
Footnote 66:
Roscher, _Myth. Lex._ s. v. Mars, 2427. Roscher regards the use of
laurel in the Mars-cult as parallel with that in the Apollo-cult and
not derived from it. The point is not however certain. The laurel was
used as an ἀποτρόπαιον at the Robigalia, which seems closely connected
with the Mars-cult (Plin. _N. H._ 18, 161); here it could hardly have
been taken over from the worship of Apollo.
Footnote 67:
Mommsen, _C. I. L._ 254.
Footnote 68:
_Fasti_, 5. 253. There is a good parallel in Celtic mythology: the
wife of Llew the Sun-hero was born of flowers (Rhys, _Celt. Myth._
384). The myth is found in many parts of the world (_Lang_, ii. 22,
and note).
Footnote 69:
By Usener, in his remarkable paper in _Rhein. Museum_, xxx. 215 foll.,
on ‘Italische Mythen.’ He unluckily made the mistake of supposing that
Ovid told this story under June 1 (i. e. _nine months_ before the
supposed birthday of Mars). There is indeed a kind of conjunction of
June and Mars on June 1, as both had temples dedicated on that day;
but neither of these can well be earlier than the fourth century B.C.,
and no one would have thought of them as having any bearing on the
birth of Mars but for Usener’s blunder (Aust, _de Aedibus sacris Pop.
Rom._ pp. 8 and 10, and his valuable note in Roscher’s article on
Mars, p. 2390). Usener also adduces the derivation of Gradivus in
Fest. 97 ‘quia gramine sit ortus.’
Footnote 70:
The practical Roman mind applied the myth chiefly to the history of
its _state_, and in such a way that its true mythic character was
lost, or nearly so. What became in Greece mythic literature became
quasi-history at Rome. Thus it is that Romulus is so closely connected
with Mars in legend: the race-hero and the race-god have almost a
mythical identity. The story of the she-wolf may be at least as much a
myth of the birth of Mars as Ovid’s story of Juno, in spite of the
fatherhood of Mars in that legend.
Footnote 71:
Aust, as quoted above. The date was probably 379 B.C. (Plin. _N. H._
16. 235).
Footnote 72:
Roscher in _Lex._ s. v. Juno, p. 576.
Footnote 73:
Marq. 571, where is a list of passages referring to these gifts. Some
are familiar, e. g. Horace, _Od._ 3. 8, and Juvenal, 9. 53 (with the
scholiast in each case).
Footnote 74:
_Schol. Cruq._ on Horace, l. c., and the scholiast on Juvenal, l. c.
Footnote 75:
See e. g. the mysterious scene on a cista from Praeneste given in
Roscher, _Lex._ 2407, to which the clue seems entirely lost.
Footnote 76:
_Lex._ s. v. Mars, 2399; s. v. Juno, 584.
Footnote 77:
Ovid, 3. 351 foll.; Plut. _Numa_, 13.
Footnote 78:
Dion. Hal. 2. 71.
Footnote 79:
Ovid, l. c. 381 foll.
Footnote 80:
Marq. 430, and note.
Footnote 81:
Festus, p. 131; Usener in _Rhein. Mus._ xxx. 209 foll. Wordsworth,
_Fragments and Specimens of Early Latin_, p. 564 foll. Jordan
(Preller, i. 336) had however doubts about the identification of Mars
and Mamurius.
Footnote 82:
The place is not quite certain. Ambrosch (_Studien_, 7), who believed
them to be part of the armour of the god, placed them in his
_sacrarium_ in the king’s house, with Serv. Aen. 7. 603, and this
falls in with Dionysius’ version of the myth, that the shield was
found in Numa’s house. With this view Preller agreed. Marquardt, (431)
however, believed they were part of the armour of the priests, and as
such were kept in the Curia Saliorum, which might also be called
_sacrarium Martis_. The question is not of the first importance.
Footnote 83:
Dionysius (2. 70. 2) says that each was girt with a sword, and carried
in his right hand, λόγχην ἢ ῥάβδον ἤ τι τοιοῦθ ἕτερον. Apparently,
assuming that he had seen the procession, he did not see or remember
clearly what these objects were. A relief from Anagnia (_Annali del
Inst._ 1869, 70 foll.) shows them like a double drumstick, with a knob
at each end.
Footnote 84:
See also _Myth. Lex._ s. v. Mars, p. 2404 and Apollo, p. 425.
Footnote 85:
Virg. _Aen._ 4. 143.
Footnote 86:
Strabo, 639 foll. The same also appear in the cult of Zeus;
Preller-Robert, _Greek Myth._ i. 134.
Footnote 87:
_G. B._ ii. 157-182; Tylor, _Prim. Cult._ i. 298 foll. We have
survivals at Rome, not only in the periodic Salian rites, but on
particular occasions; Martial 12. 57. 15 (of an eclipse); Ovid,
_Fasti_, 5. 441; Tibull. 1. 8. 21; Tac. _Ann._ 1. 28 (this was in
Germany). I have known the church bells rung at Zermatt in order to
stop a continuous downpour of rain in hay-harvest.
Footnote 88:
_G. B._ ii. 210.
Footnote 89:
Jordan, _Krit. Beiträge_, p. 203 foll.
Footnote 90:
Cato, _R. R._ 143.
Footnote 91:
Liv. 1. 20. Cp. 9. 40, where the chosen Samnite warriors wore _tunicae
versicolores_. In each case the dress is a religious one, of the same
character as that of the _triumphator_, and would have its ultimate
origin in the war-paint of savages, which probably also has a
religious signification. The _trabea_ was the old short cavalry coat.
Footnote 92:
See Marq. 432, and _Dict. of Antiq._ s. v. Salii for details.
Footnote 93:
Fest. 131. The fragments may be seen in Wordsworth’s _Fragments and
Specimens of Early Latin_, pp. 564 foll. In the chief fragment the
name of Janus seems almost certainly to occur (cf. Lydus, 4. 2); and
in another Lucetius (= Iupiter?). Juno and Minerva are also mentioned.
See _Dict. of Antiq._ s. v. Salii. It is curious that Mars is more
prominent in the song of the Arval Brothers.
Footnote 94:
Liv. 5. 52. 7.
Footnote 95:
Dionysius, 2. 71.
Footnote 96:
Usener in _Rhein. Mus._ xxx. 218; Roscher, _Lex._ s. v. Mars 2419, can
only quote two very vague and doubtful passages from late writers in
support of the view that the shields were symbols of the months; Lydus
4. 2. who says that the Salii sang in praise of Janus, κατὰ τὸν τῶν
Ἰταλικῶν μηνῶν ἀριθμόν; and Liber glossarum, Cod. Vat. Palat. 1773 f.
40 v.: Ancilia: scuta unius anni.
Footnote 97:
For the evidence on this point, and others connected with the Salii, I
must refer the reader to Mr. G. E. Marindin’s excellent article
‘Salii’ in the new edition of Smith’s _Dict. of Antiquities_, the most
complete and at the same time sensible account that has appeared in
recent years. (The article ‘Ancilia’ in the new edition of Pauly’s
_Real-Encycl._ is disappointing.) Dionysius, Varro, and Plutarch are
all at one about the shape of the shields, and Mr. Marindin is quite
right in insisting that Ovid does not contradict them. (See the
passages quoted in the article.) The coins of Licinius Stolo and of
Antoninus Pius (Cohen, _Méd. Cons._ plate xxiv. 9, 10, and _Méd. Imp._
ii, no. 467) give the same peculiar shape. The bronze of Domitian,
A.D. 88 (Cohen, _Méd. Imp._ i. plate xvii), and the coins of
Sanquinius, B.C. 16 (both issued in connexion with ludi saeculares),
on which are figures supposed to be Salii with round shields, have
certainly been misinterpreted (e. g. in Marq. 431). See note at end of
this work.
Footnote 98:
Jordan, in _Commentationes in hon. Momms._ p. 365. There could not b
_feriae_ on this day, as it was a _dies fastus_.
Footnote 99:
_Fast._ 3. 429 ‘Una nota est Marti Nonis; sacrata quod illis Templa
putant lucos Vediovis ante duos.’
Footnote 100:
Aust, _de Aedibus sacris_, p. 33.
Footnote 101:
Polyb. 21. 10 (13); Liv. 37. 33.
Footnote 102:
See his article in _Dict. Ant._ He further suggests that in
Philocalus’ note _ancilia_ is an adjective, and that _arma ancilia_
means the shields only, as the spears of Mars do not seem to have been
used by the Salii.
Footnote 103:
The day is of course not given in these almanacs; but the position is
between Isidis navigium (March 5) and Liberalia (March 17).
Footnote 104:
_de Feriis_, ix. foll. Cp. _C. I. L._ 311.
Footnote 105:
The usual sacrifice to Jupiter on the Ides is also mentioned by
Wissowa in this connexion; but I should hardly imagine that it would
have had a sufficiently popular character to cause any such alteration
as he is arguing for. But the first full moon of the year may have
become over-crowded with rites; and it was the day on which at one
time the consuls entered on office, B.C. 222 to 154 (Mommsen, _Chron._
102 and notes).
Footnote 106:
Wissowa takes both as lustrations of cavalry. Mommsen, _C. I. L._ 332,
disapproves of Wissowa’s reasoning about this day.
Footnote 107:
_C. I. L._ 311.
Footnote 108:
_C. I. L._ 254.
Footnote 109:
Cf. Usener’s article on Italian Myths in _Rhein. Mus._ vol. xxx—a most
interesting and suggestive piece of work, which, however, needs to be
read with a critical mind, and has been too uncritically used by later
writers, e. g. Roscher in his article on Mars. Frazer (_G. B._ ii.
208) adopts his conclusions about Mamurius, but, with his usual care,
points out some of the difficulties in a footnote.
Footnote 110:
Usener, p. 211.
Footnote 111:
Lydus, 3. 29 and 4. 36. The words are rather obscure, but the meaning
is fairly obvious. See Usener’s paraphrase, p. 210.
Footnote 112:
See above, p. 38.
Footnote 113:
Cp. what he says of the Salii singing of Janus κατὰ τὸν τῶν Ἰταλικῶν
μηνῶν ἀριθμόν (4. 2).
Footnote 114:
e. g. in Numa 13.
Footnote 115:
_Aen._ 7. 188. Thilo and Hagen seem to think that Servius wrote
_peltas_ (shields) on the evidence of one MS, wrongly, I think.
Footnote 116:
_Octavius_, 24. 3.
Footnote 117:
What is the meaning of _vetera_ here?
Footnote 118:
_Golden Bough_, ii. 208.
Footnote 119:
Mr. Frazer is careful to point out in a note that Lydus only mentions
the name Mamurius. But as we know that Mamurius was called Veturius in
the Salian hymn, and as Veturius may perhaps mean _old_, it is
inferred that the skin-clad man was ‘the old Mars.’ The argument is
shaky; its only strength lies in the Slavonic and other parallels.
Footnote 120:
Lydus is thought to have made a mistake in attributing it to the 15th
(Ides); if so, he may have confused other matters in this curious
note. But he is certainly explicit enough here (4. 36), and refers to
the usual sacrifice to Jupiter on the Ides, and to ‘public prayers for
the salubrity of the coming year,’ which we may be sure would be on
the Ides, and not on a day of even number. I do not feel at all sure
that Lydus was wrong as to the date, the more so as the Ides of May
(which month has a certain parallelism with March) is the date of
another curious ceremony of this primitive type, that of the _Argei_.
Footnote 121:
This was first noticed by Grimm (_Teutonic Mythology_, Eng. Trans.,
vol. ii. 764 foll.). Since then Mannhardt (_Baumkultus_, 410 foll.)
and Mr. Frazer (_G. B._ i. 257 foll. and 264 foll.) have worked it out
and explained it (see especially i. 275). It is generally believed
that Death, or whatever be the name applied to the human being or
figure expelled in these rites, signifies the extinct spirit of
vegetation of the past year. I agree with Mr. Frazer, as against
Usener and Roscher (_Lex._ s. v. Mars), that it is not any abstract
conception of the year, or at least was not such originally.
Footnote 122:
This fusion of two apparently different ideas in a single ceremony has
previously been explained by Mr. Frazer, pp. 205 foll. On p. 210 he
notices the curious and well-authenticated rite of driving out hunger
at Chaeronea (Plutarch, _Quaest. Conviv._ 6. 8), which would offer an
interesting parallel to the Roman, if we could but be sure of the
details of the latter. Another from Delphi (Plut. _Quaest. Graec._ 12,
mentioned by Usener, does not seem to me conclusive); but that of the
‘man in cowhide’ from the Highlands (_G. B._. ii. 145) is singularly
like the Roman rite as Lydus describes it, and took place on New
Year’s eve.
Footnote 123:
See above, p. 47.
Footnote 124:
I am the more disposed to suspect Lydus’ account, as in the same
sentence he mentions a sacrifice which is conducted by priests of the
Magna Mater Idaea: ἱεράτευον δὲ καὶ ταῦρον ἑξέτη ὑπὲρ τῶν ἐν τοῖς
ὄρεσιν ἀγρῶν ἡγουμένου τοῦ ἀρχιερέως καὶ τῶν κανηφόρων τῆς μητρόχου·
ἤγετο δὲ καὶ ἄνθρωπος κ.τ.λ. For the difficulties of this passage, and
suggested emendations, see Mommsen, _C. I. L_. 312, note on Id. Mart;
Marq. 394, note 5. What confusion of cults may not have taken place,
either in Lydus’ mind or in actual fact?
Footnote 125:
Both these notes are _additamenta_: Anna does not appear in the large
letters of the Numan calendar. We cannot, however, infer from this
that her festival was not an ancient one; for, as Wissowa points out,
the same is the case with the very primitive rite of the ‘October
horse’ (_de Feriis_, xii). The day is only marked EID in _Maff. Vat._,
the two calendars in which this part of the month is preserved; i. e.
the usual sacrifice to Jupiter on the Ides was indicated (cp. Lydus,
4. 36), and the Ides fixed for the 15th. The additional notes,
according to Wissowa, were for the use of the priests; but,
considering the popular character of the festival, I am inclined to
doubt this rule holding good in the present instance.
Footnote 126:
Ovid, _Fasti_, 3. 523 foll.
Footnote 127:
‘Via Flaminia ad lapidem primum’ (Vat.): this would be near the
present Porta del Popolo, and close to the river.
Footnote 128:
See Robertson Smith, _Religion of the Semites_, p. 240, for the jovial
character of some primitive forms of religion, and the absence of a
sense of sin.
Footnote 129:
Ov. l. c. 541 ‘Occurri nuper: visa est mihi digna relatu Pompa. Senem
potum pota trahebat anus.
Footnote 130:
_Sat._ 1. 12. 6. Cp. Lydus, _de Mens_. 4. 36.
Footnote 131:
_Annare perennare_ is to complete the circle of the year: cp. Suet.
_Vespas_. 5 ‘puella nata non _perennavit_.’ Anna Perenna herself is
probably a deity manufactured out of these words, and the idea they
conveyed (cf. Janus Patulcius and Clusius, Carmenta Prorsa Postverta);
not exactly a _deity of the year_, but one whom it would be desirable
to propitiate at the beginning of the year.
Footnote 132:
Ov. l. c. 545 foll. Sil. Ital. 8. 50 foll. Ovid also says that some
thought she was the moon, ‘quia mensibus impleat annum’ (3. 657): but
this notion has no value, except as indicating the belief that she
represented the circle of the year.
Footnote 133:
_Aeneas und die Penaten_, ii. 717 foll. The cautious Merkel long ago
repudiated such fancies; preface to Ovid’s _Fasti_, p. 177.
Footnote 134:
Liv. 1. 2. The Punic Anna is now thought to be a deity = Dido =
Elissa: see Rossbach in the new edition of Pauly’s _Encyl._ i. 2223.
Footnote 135:
Her grove was not even on the Tiber-bank, but somewhere between the
Via Flaminia and the Via Salaria, i.e. in the neighbourhood of the
Villa Borghese: as we see from the obscure lines of Martial, 4. 64. 17
(he is looking from the Janiculum):
Et quod virgineo cruore gaudet
Annae pomiferum nemus Perennae.
Illinc Flaminiae Salariaeque
Gestator patet essedo tacente, &c.
There is no explanation of _virgineo cruore_: but I would rather
retain it than adopt even H. A. J. Munro’s _virgine nequiore_. See
Friedländer, ad loc.
Footnote 136:
This seems to be Usener’s suggestion, p. 207.
Footnote 137:
_Fasti_, 3. 675.
Footnote 138:
No doubt this should be Nerio: see below on March 17.
Footnote 139:
There is some ground for believing that the two words implied two
deities on occasion or originally: Varro, _Sat. Menipp._ fr. 506 ‘Te
Anna ac Peranna’ (Riese, p. 219).
Footnote 140:
Wissowa (_de Feriis_ x) thinks Ovid’s tale mere _nugae_: but this
learned scholar never seems to be able to comprehend the significance
of folk-lore.
Footnote 141:
_Fasti_, 3 661 foll.
Footnote 142:
Varro (_L. L._ 6. 14) calls them ‘sacerdotes Liberi,’ by courtesy, we
may presume: and it is noticeable that Ovid describes this old Anna as
wearing a _mitra_, which, in Propert. v. (iv.) 2. 31, is
characteristic of Bacchus: ‘Cinge caput mitra: speciem furabor
Iacchi.’
Footnote 143:
Op. cit. 208.
Footnote 144:
See Pauly, _Encycl._ vol. i. 2223. This is Wissowa’s opinion.
Footnote 145:
See on Jan. 9.
Footnote 146:
Cic. _ad Fam._ 12. 25. 1; _Att._ 9. 9. 4; _Auct. Bell. Hisp._ 31.
Footnote 147:
Varro, _L. L._ 6. 14 ‘In libris Saliorum, quorum cognomen Agonensium,
forsitan his dies ideo appellatur potius Agonia.’ So Masurius Sabinus
(in Macrob. _Sat._ 1. 4. 15), ‘Liberalium dies a pontificibus agonium
Martiale appellatur.’
Footnote 148:
See above, p. 53, where I have expressed a doubt whether this custom
originally belonged to the Liberalia. It is alluded to in Ovid,
_Fasti_, 3. 725 foll., and Varro, _L. L._ 6. 14.
Footnote 149:
This is the view of Wissowa in _Myth. Lex._ s. v. Liber, 2022. Cp.
Aust, _Lex._ s. v. Iuppiter, 662.
Footnote 150:
It is only once attested of Roman worship, viz. in the calendar of the
Fratres Arvales (Sept. 1 ‘Iovi Libero, Iunoni Reginae in Aventino,’
_C. I. L._ i. 214); but is met with several times among the
Osco-Sabellian peoples.
Footnote 151:
So Hehn, _Kulturpflanzen_, &c., p. 70 foll. But Hehn is only thinking
of the later Liber, whom he considers an ‘emanation’ from Jupiter
Liber = Dionysus, introduced with the vine from Greece. See Aust,
_Lex._ s. v. Iuppiter, 662.
Footnote 152:
See on April 23.
Footnote 153:
Ovid, _Fasti_, 3. 771 foll.
Footnote 154:
Marq. _Privatleben_, i. 122 note 2.
Footnote 155:
Ovid, l. c., 783 foll.; Marq. l. c. and 123, 124. Military service
began anciently at seventeen (Tubero, ap. Gell. 10. 28): though even
praetextati sometimes served voluntarily (Marq. op. cit. 131). Even if
not called out at once, the boys would begin the practice of arms from
the assumption of the toga virilis.
Footnote 156:
Marq. op. cit. 124. Libero in Ca[pitolio], Farn. For Iuventas, Dion.
Hal. 3. 69, 4. 15.
Footnote 157:
This result is obtained by comparing Ovid, _Fasti_, 3. 791
Itur ad Argeos—qui sint, sua pagina dicet—
Hac, si commemini, praeteritaque die.
(where he refers to his description of the rite of May 15, and appears
to identify the _simulacra_ and _sacella_), with Gell. _N. A._ 10. 15,
who says that the Flaminica Dialis, ‘cum it ad Argeos’ was in mourning
dress: also with the fragments of the ‘Sacra Argeorum’ in Varro, _L.
L._ 5. 46-54. These have been shown by Jordan (_Topogr._ ii. 271
foll.) to be fragments of an itinerary, meant for the guidance of a
procession, an idea first suggested by O. Müller. The further
questions of the route taken, and the distribution of the sacella in
the four Servian regiones, are very difficult, and need not be
discussed here. See Mommsen, _Staatsrecht_, iii. 123 foll.
Footnote 158:
_L. L._ 5. 85 ‘Salii a salitando, quod facere in comitio in sacris
quotannis et solent et debent.’
Footnote 159:
i. p. 81 (Keil). Why the _Comitium_ was the scene does not appear.
Preller has suggested a reason (i. 364), which is by no means
convincing.
Footnote 160:
It was adopted by Usener (p. 222, note 6), but has obtained no further
support. For another curious etymology of the latter part of the word
_latrus_, which, however, does not assist us here, see Deecke,
_Falisker_, p. 90 (_Dies ater = dies alter = postridie_).
Footnote 161:
Wissowa, _de Feriis_, ix.
Footnote 162:
Mommsen, in _C. I. L._ 312.
Footnote 163:
Mommsen, _R. H._ i. 78, note 1.
Footnote 164:
Festus, 254 ‘Quinquatrus appellari quidam putant a numero dierum qui
fere his (? feriis iis) celebrantur: qui scilicet errant tam hercule
quam qui triduo Saturnalia, et totidem diebus Compitalia; nam omnibus
his singulis diebus fiunt sacra. Forma autem vocabuli eius exemplo
multorum populorum Italicorum enuntiata est, quod post diem quintum
Iduum est is dies festus, ut apud Tusculanos Triatrus,’ &c.
Footnote 165:
Wissowa, _op. cit._ viii. We find one in April, between the Fordicidia
(April 15) and Cerialia (April 19).
Footnote 166:
Ovid, _Fasti_, 3. 809 ‘Una dies media est, et fiunt sacra Minervae,’
&c.
Footnote 167:
Ovid, _Fasti_, 3. 835 foll.
Caelius ex alto qua mons descendit in aequum,
Hic ubi non plana est sed prope plana via,
Parva licet videas Captae delubra Minervae
Quae dea natali coepit habere suo.
As from the note in Praen. we learn that March 19 was also the
dedication-day of Minerva on the Aventine, there must either be a
confusion between the two, or both had the same foundation-day. About
the day of Minerva Capta there is no doubt; for that of Minerva on the
Aventine see Aust, _de Aedibus_, p. 42.
Footnote 168:
Preller, i. 342; Usener, _Rh. Mus._, xxx. 221; Roscher, _Myth. Lex._
s. v. Mars, 2410; _Lyd. de Mens._ 4. 42; Gell. 13. 23 (from _Gellii
Annales_) is the _locus classicus_ for Nerio.
Footnote 169:
Nerio gen. Nerienis (Gell. l. c., who compares Anio Anienis).
Footnote 170:
Ovid, _Fasti_, 3. 850: ‘_forti_ sacrificare deae,’ though clearly
meant to refer to Minerva, is thought to be a reminiscence of a
characteristic of Nerio (‘the strong one’), attached to her
supplanter.
Footnote 171:
Aul. Gell. l. c.
Footnote 172:
Usener, l. c., _passim_.
Footnote 173:
H. Jordan expressed a somewhat different view in his _Symbolae ad
hist. Ital. religionum alterae_, p. 9. He thinks that ‘volgari
opinione hominum feminini numinis cum masculo coniunctionem non
potuisse non pro coniugali aestimari.’ But this would seem to imply
that the _opinio volgaris_ was a mistaken one: and if so, how should
it have arisen but under Greek influence?
Footnote 174:
Mommsen, in a note on the Feriale Cumanum (Hermes, 17. 637), calls
them _weibliche Hilfsgöttinnen_; and this is not far removed from the
view I have expressed in the text. The other alternative, viz that we
have in these names traces of an old Italian anthropomorphic age, with
a mythology, is in my view inadmissible. I see in them survivals of a
mode of thought about the supernatural which might easily lend itself
to a foreign anthropomorphizing influence.
Footnote 175:
Ovid, _Fasti_, 3. 835 foll.
Footnote 176:
Wissowa in _Lex._ s. v. Minerva 2986: a model article, to which the
reader must be referred for further information about Minerva.
Footnote 177:
Lydus, 4. 42, adds ‘Nerine,’ and further tells us that this was the
last day on which the _ancilia_ were ‘moved’ (κίνησις τῶν ὅπλων). The
Salii were also active on the 24th (Fest. 278).
Footnote 178:
The note is thus completed by Mommsen from Varro, _L. L._ 6. 31 ‘Dies
qui vocatur sic, Quando Rex Comitiavit Fas, is dictus ab eo quod eo
die rex sacrificulus itat [we should probably read _litat_] ad
comitium, ad quod tempus est nefas, ab eo fas’ (see Marq. 323, note
8). The MS. has ‘_dicat_ ad comitium.’ If we adopt _litat_ with
Hirschfeld and Jordan, we are not on that account committed to the
belief corrected in Praen., that it was on this day and May 24 that
the Rex fled after sacrificing in _comitio_ (see Hartmann, _Röm. Kal._
162 foll.). The question will be discussed under Feb. 24.
Footnote 179:
_Röm. Chronol._ p. 241; _Staatsrecht_, iii. 375.
Footnote 180:
Gaius, 2. 101 ‘Comitia calata quae bis in anno testamentis faciendis
destinata erant.’ Cp. Maine, _Ancient Law_, 199.
Footnote 181:
It may have been of Etruscan origin: Müller-Deecke, _Etrusker_, ii.
206. A special kind of _tuba_ seems to have been used at funerals:
Gell. _N. A._ 20. 2; Marq. _Privatleben_, i. 341.
Footnote 182:
For the military use, Liv. ii. 64. They were also used in _sacris
Saliaribus_ Paul. 19, s. v. Armilustrium. Wissowa (_de Feriis_ xv)
mentions a relief in which the Salii are preceded by _tubicines
laureati_ (published in St. Petersburgh by E. Schulze, 1873).
Footnote 183:
_C. I. L._ 313. He is of opinion that the note was among those ‘non
tam a Verrio scriptas quam male ex scriptis eius excerptas.’
Footnote 184:
_de Div._ i. 17. 30.
Footnote 185:
Varro, _L. L._ 5. 91.
MENSIS APRILIS.
There can hardly be a doubt that this month takes its name, not from a
deity, but from the verb _aperio_; the etymology is as old as Varro and
Verrius, and seems perfectly natural[186]. The year was opening and the
young corn and the young cattle were growing. It was therefore a
critical time for crops and herds; but there was not much to be done by
man to secure their safety. The crops might be hoed and cleaned[187],
but must for the most part be left to the protection of the gods. The
oldest festivals of the month, the Robigalia and Fordicidia, clearly had
this object. So also with the cattle; _oves lustrantur_, say the rustic
calendars[188]; and such a _lustratio_ of the cattle of the ancient
Romans survived in the ceremonies of the Parilia.
Thus, if we keep clear of fanciful notions, such as those of
Huschke[189], about these early months of the year, which he seems to
imagine was thought of as growing like an organic creature, we need find
no great difficulty in April. We need not conclude too hastily that this
was a month of purification preliminary to May, as February was to
March. Like February, indeed, it has a large number of _dies
nefasti_[190], and its festivals are of a cathartic character, while
March and May have some points in common; but beyond this we cannot
safely venture. The later Romans would hardly have connected April with
Venus[191], had it been a sinister month; it was not in April, but in
March and May, that weddings were ill-omened.
We may note the prevalence in this month of female deities, or of those
which fluctuate between male and female—a sure sign of antiquity. These
are deities of the earth, or vegetation, or generation, such as Tellus,
Pales, Ceres, Flora, and perhaps also Fortuna. Hence the month became
easily associated in later times with Venus, who was originally,
perhaps, a garden deity[192], but was overlaid in course of time with
ideas brought from Sicily and Greece, and possibly even from Cyprus and
the East. Lastly, we may note that the Magna Mater Idaea found a
suitable position for her worship in this month towards the end of the
third century B.C.
KAL. APR. (APRIL 1). F.
VENERALIA: LUDI. (PHILOC.)
Note in Praen.: ‘FREQUENTER MULIERES SUPPLICANT FORTUNAE VIRILI,
HUMILIORES ETIAM IN BALINEIS, QUOD IN IIS EA PARTE CORPOR[IS] UTIQUE
VIRI NUDANTUR, QUA FEMINARUM GRATIA DESIDERATUR.’
Lydus[193] seems to have been acquainted with this note of Verrius in
the Fasti of Praeneste; if so, we may guess that some words have been
omitted by the man who cut the inscription, and we should insert with
Mommsen[194], after ‘supplicant,’ the words ‘honestiores Veneri
Verticordiae.’ If we compare the passage of Lydus with the name
Veneralia given to this day in the calendar of Philocalus, we may guess
that the cult of Venus on April 1 came into fashion in late times among
ladies of rank, while an old and gross custom was kept up by the
humiliores in honour of Fortuna Virilis[195]. This seems to be the most
obvious explanation of the concurrence of the two goddesses on the same
day; they were probably identified or amalgamated under the Empire, for
example by Lydus, who does not mention Fortuna by name, and seems to
confuse her worship on this day with that of Venus. But the two are
still distinct in Ovid, though he seems to show some tendency to
amalgamation[196].
Fortuna Virilis, thus worshipped by the women when bathing, would seem
from Ovid to have been that Fortuna who gave women good luck in their
relations with men[197]. The custom of bathing in the men’s baths may
probably be taken as some kind of lustration, more especially as the
women were adorned with myrtle, which had purifying virtues[198]. How
old this curious custom was we cannot guess. Plutarch[199] mentions a
temple of this Fortuna dedicated by Servius Tullius; but there was a
strong tendency, as we shall see later on, to attribute all
Fortuna-cults to this king.
The Venus who eventually supplanted Fortuna is clearly Venus
Verticordia[200], whose earliest temple was founded in 114 B.C., in
obedience to an injunction of the Sibylline books, after the discovery
of incest on the part of three vestal virgins, ‘quo facilius virginum
mulierumque mens a libidine ad pudicitiam converteretur[201].’ Macrobius
insists that Venus had originally no share in the worship of this day or
month[202]; she must therefore have been introduced into it as a
foreigner. Robertson Smith[203] has shown some ground for the conjecture
that she was the Cyprian Aphrodite (herself identical with the Semitic
Astarte), who came to Rome by way of Sicily and Latium. For if Lydus can
be trusted, the Roman ceremony of April 1 was found also in Cyprus, on
the same day, with variations in detail. If that be so, the addition of
the name Verticordia is a curious example of the accretion of a Roman
cult-title expressive of domestic morality on a foreign deity of
questionable reputation[204].
PRID. NON. APR. (APRIL 4). C.
MATR[I] MAG[NAE]. (MAFF.)
LUDI MEGALESIACI. (PHILOC.)
Note in Praen.: LUDI M[ATRI] D[EUM] M[AGNAE] I[DAEAE]. MEGALESIA
VOCANTUR QUOD EA DEA MEGALE APPELLATUR. NOBILIUM MUTITATIONES CENARUM
SOLITAE SUNT FREQUENTER FIERI, QUOD MATER MAGNA EX LIBRIS SIBULLINIS
ARCESSITA LOCUM MUTAVIT EX PHRYGIA ROMAM.
The introduction of the Magna Mater Idaea into Rome can only be briefly
mentioned here, as being more important for the history of religion at
Rome than for that of the Roman religion. In B.C. 204, in accordance
with a Sibylline oracle which had previously prophesied that the
presence of this deity alone could drive the enemy out of Italy, the
sacred stone representing the goddess arrived at Rome from Pessinus in
Phrygia[205]. Attalus, King of Pergamus, had acquired this territory,
and now, as a faithful friend to Rome, consented to the transportation
of the stone, which was received at Rome with enthusiasm by an excited
and now hopeful people[206]. Scipio was about to leave with his army for
Africa; a fine harvest followed; Hannibal was forced to evacuate Italy
the next year; and the goddess did everything that was expected of
her[207].
The stone was deposited in the temple of Victory on the Palatine on
April 4[208]. The day was made a festival; though no Roman festival
occurs between the Kalends and Nones of any month, the rule apparently
did not hold good in the case of a foreign worship[209]. Great care was
taken to keep up the foreign character of the cult. The name of the
festival was a Greek one (Megalesia), as Cicero remarked[210]; all
Romans were forbidden by a senatus consultum to take any part in the
service of the goddess[211]. The temple dedicated thirteen years later
on April 10[212] seems to have been frequented by the nobilitas only,
and the custom of giving dinner-parties on April 4, which is well
attested, was confined to the upper classes[213], while the plebs waited
for its festivities till the ensuing Cerealia. The later and more
extravagant developments of the cult did not come in until the
Empire[214].
The story told by Livy of the introduction of the goddess is an
interesting episode in Roman history. It illustrates the far-reaching
policy of the Senate in enlisting Eastern kings, religions, and oracles
in the service of the state at a critical time, and also the curious
readiness of the Roman people to believe in the efficacy of cults
utterly foreign to their own religious practices. At the same time it
shows how careful the government was then, as always, to keep such cults
under strict supervision. But the long stress of the Hannibalic War had
its natural effect on the Italian peoples; and less than twenty years
later the introduction of the Bacchic orgies forced the senate to strain
every nerve to counteract a serious danger to the national religion and
morality.
XVII KAL. MAI. (APRIL 15). NP.
FORD[ICIDIA][215]. (CAER. MAFF. VAT. PRAEN.)
This is beyond doubt one of the oldest sacrificial rites in the Roman
religion. It consisted in the slaughter of pregnant cows (_hordae_ or
_fordae_), one in the Capitol and one in each of the thirty
_curiae_[216]; i. e. one for the state and the rest for each of its
ancient divisions. This was the first festival of the _curiae_; the
other, the _Fornacalia_, will be treated of under February 17. The cows
were offered, as all authorities agree, to Tellus[217], who, as we shall
see, may be an indigitation of the same earth power represented by
Ceres, Bona Dea, Dea Dia, and other female deities. The unborn calves
were torn by attendants of the virgo vestalis maxima from the womb of
the mother and burnt[218], and their ashes were kept by the Vestals for
use at the Parilia a few days later[219]. This was the first ceremony in
the year in which the Vestals took an active part, and it was the first
of a series of acts all of which are connected with the fruits of the
earth, their growth, ripening and harvesting. The object of burning the
unborn calves seems to have been to procure the fertility of the corn
now growing in the womb of mother earth, to whom the sacrifice was
offered[220].
Many charms of this sacrificial kind have been noticed by various
writers; one may be mentioned here which was described by Sir John
Barrow, when British Ambassador in China in 1804. In a spring festival
in the temple of Earth, a huge porcelain image of a cow was carried
about and then broken in pieces, and a number of small cows taken from
inside it and distributed among the people as earnests of a good
season[221]. This must be regarded as a survival of a rite which was no
doubt originally one of the same kind as the Roman.
III ID. APR. (APRIL 11). N.
On this day[222] the oracle of the great temple of Fortuna Primigenia at
Praeneste was open to suppliants, as we learn from a fragment of the
Praenestine Fasti. Though not a Roman festival, the day deserves to be
noticed here, as this oracle was by far the most renowned in Italy. The
cult of Fortuna will be discussed under June 25 and Sept. 13. It does
not seem to be known whether the oracle was open on these days only; see
R. Peter in _Myth. Lex._ s. v. Fortuna, 1545.
XIII KAL. MAI. (APRIL 19). NP.
CER[IALIA]. (CAER. MAFF. PRAEN. ESQ.)
CERERI LIBERO (LIBERAE) ESQ.
Note: All the days from 12th to 19th are marked ludi, ludi Cer., or ludi
Ceriales, in Tusc. Maff. Praen. Vat., taken together: loid. Cereri in
Esq., where the 18th only is preserved: loedi C in Caer. Philocalus has
Cerealici c. m. (circenses missus) xxiv on 12th and 19th.
The origin of the ludi Cereales, properly so called, cannot be proved to
be earlier than the Second Punic War. The games first appear as fully
established in B.C. 202[223]. But from the fact that April 19 is marked
CER in large letters in the calendars we may infer, with Mommsen[224],
that there was a festival in honour of Ceres as far back as the period
of the monarchy. The question therefore arises whether this ancient
Ceres was a native Italian deity, or the Greek Demeter afterwards known
to the Romans as Ceres.
That there was such an Italian deity is placed almost beyond doubt by
the name itself, which all authorities agree in connecting with cerus =
genius, and with the _cerfus_ and _cerfia_ of the great inscription of
Iguvium[225]. The verbal form seems clearly to be _creare_[226]; and
thus, strange to say, we actually get some definite aid from etymology,
and can safely see in the earliest Ceres, if we recollect her
identification with the Greek goddess of the earth and its fruits, a
deity presiding over or representing the generative powers of nature. We
cannot, however, feel sure whether this deity was originally feminine
only, or masculine also, as Arnobius seems to suggest[227]. Judging from
the occurrence of forms such as those quoted above, it is quite likely,
as in the case of Pales, Liber, and others, that this numen was of both
sexes, or of undetermined sex. So anxious were the primitive Italians to
catch the ear of their deities by making no mistake in the ritual of
addressing them, that there was a distinct tendency to avoid marking
their sex too distinctly; and phrases such as ‘sive mas sive femina,’
‘si deus si dea,’ are familiar to all students of the Roman
religion[228].
We may be satisfied, then, that the oldest Ceres was not simply an
importation from Greece. It is curious however, that Ceres is not found
exactly where we should expect to find her, viz. in the ritual of the
Fratres Arvales[229]. Yet this very fact may throw further light on the
primitive nature of Ceres. The central figure of the Arval ritual was
the nameless Dea Dia; and in a ritual entirely relating to the fruits of
the earth we can fairly account for the absence of Ceres by supposing
that she is there represented by the Dea Dia—in fact, that the two are
identical[230]. No one at all acquainted with Italian ideas of the gods
will be surprised at this. It is surely a more reasonable hypothesis
than that of Birt, who thinks that an old name for seed and bread (i. e.
Ceres) was transferred to the Greek deity who dispensed seed and bread
when she was introduced in Rome[231]. It is, in fact, only the name
Ceres that is wanting in the Arval ritual, not the numen itself; and
this is less surprising if we assume that the names given by the
earliest Romans to supernatural powers were not fixed but variable,
representing no distinctly conceived personalities; in other words, that
their religion was pandaemonic rather than polytheistic, though with a
tendency to lend itself easily to the influence of polytheism. We may
agree, then, with Preller[232], that Ceres, with Tellus, and perhaps Ops
and Acca Larentia, are different names for, and aspects of, the numen
whom the Arval brothers called Dea Dia. At the same time we cannot
entirely explain why the name Ceres was picked out from among these to
represent the Greek Demeter. Some light may, however, be thrown on this
point by studying the early history of the Ceres-cult.
The first temple of Ceres was founded, according to tradition, in
consequence of a famine in the year 496 B.C., in obedience to a
Sibylline oracle[233]. It was at the foot of the Aventine, by the Circus
Maximus[234], and was dedicated on April 19, 493, to Ceres, Liber and
Libera, representing Demeter, Dionysus, and Persephone.[235] Thus from
the outset the systematized cult of Ceres in the city was not Roman but
Greek. The temple itself was adorned in Greek style instead of the
Etruscan usual at this period[236]. How is all this to be accounted for?
Let us notice in the first place that from the very foundation of the
temple it is in the closest way connected with the plebs. The year of
its dedication is that of the first secession of the plebs and of the
establishment of the tribuni and aediles plebis[237]. The two events are
connected by the fact, repeatedly stated, that any one violating the
_sacrosanctitas_ of the tribune was to be held _sacer Cereri_[238]; we
are also told that the fines imposed by tribunes were spent on this
temple[239]. It was under the care of the plebeian aediles, and was to
them what the temple of Saturnus was to the quaestors[240]. Its position
was in the plebeian quarter, and at the foot of the Aventine, which in
B.C. 456 is said to have become the property of the plebs[241].
Now it can hardly be doubted that the choice of Ceres (with her fellow
deities of the _trias_), as the goddess whose temple should serve as a
centre for the plebeian community, had some definite meaning. That
meaning must be found in the traditions of famine and distress which we
read of as immediately following the expulsion of Tarquinius. These
traditions have often been put aside as untrustworthy[242], and may
indeed be so in regard to details; but there is some reason for thinking
them to have had a foundation of fact, if we can but accept the other
tradition of the foundation of the temple and its connexion with the
plebs. It is likely enough that under Tarquinius the population was
increased by ‘outsiders’ employed on his great buildings. Under pressure
from the attack of enemies, and from a sudden aristocratic reaction,
this population, we may guess, was thrown out of work, deprived of a
_raison d’être_, and starved[243]; finally rescuing itself by a
secession, which resulted in the institution of its officers, tribunes
and aediles, the latter of whom some to have been charged with the duty
of looking after the corn-supply[244].
How the corn-supply was cared for we cannot tell for certain; but here
again is a tradition which fits in curiously with what we know of the
temple and its worship, though it has been rejected by the superfluous
ingenuity of modern German criticism. Livy tells us that in B.C. 492,
the year after the dedication of the temple, corn was brought from
Etruria, Cumae, and Sicily to relieve a famine[245]. We are not obliged
to believe in the purchase of corn at Syracuse at so early a date,
though it is not impossible; but if we remember that the decorations and
ritual of the temple were Greek beyond doubt, we get a singular
confirmation of the tradition _in outline_ which has not been
sufficiently noticed. If it was founded in 493, placed under plebeian
officers, and closely connected with the plebs; if its rites and
decorations were Greek from the beginning; we cannot afford to discard a
tradition telling us of a commercial connexion with Greek cities, the
object of which was to relieve a starving plebeian population.
And surely there is nothing strange in the supposition that Greek
influence gained ground, not so much with the patricians who had their
own outfit of religious armour, but with the plebs who had no share in
the sacra of their betters, and with the Etruscan dynasty which favoured
the plebs[246]. We may hesitate to assent to Mommsen’s curious assertion
that the merchants of that day were none other than the great patrician
landholders[247]; we may rather be disposed to conjecture that it was
the more powerful plebeians, incapable of holding large areas of public
land, who turned their attention to commerce, and came in contact with
the Greeks of Italy and Sicily. The position of the plebeian quarter
along the Tiber bank, and near the spot where the quays of Rome have
always been, may possibly point in the same direction[248].
To return to the Cerealia of April 19. We have still to notice a relic
of apparently genuine Italian antiquity which survived in it down to
Ovid’s time, and may be taken as evidence that there was a real Roman
substratum on which the later Greek ritual was superimposed.
Every one who reads Ovid’s account of the Cerealia will be struck by his
statement that on the 19th it was the practice to fasten burning brands
to the tails of foxes and set them loose to run in the Circus
Maximus[249]:
Cur igitur missae vinctis ardentia taedis
Terga ferant volpes, causa docenda mihi est.
He tells a charming story to explain the custom, learnt from an old man
of Carseoli, an Aequian town, where he was seeking information while
writing the _Fasti_. A boy of twelve years’ old caught a vixen fox which
had done damage to the farm, and tied it up in straw and hay. This he
set on fire, but the fox escaped and burnt the crops. Hence a law at
Carseoli forbidding—something about foxes, which the corruption of the
MSS. has obscured for us[250]. Then he concludes:
Utque luat poenas gens haec, Cerialibus ardet;
Quoque modo segetes perdidit, ipsa perit.
We are, of course, reminded of Samson burning the corn of the
Philistines[251]; and it is probable that the story in each case is a
myth explanatory of some old practice like the one Ovid describes at
Rome. But what the practice meant it is not very easy to see. Preller
has his explanation ready[252]; it was a ‘sinnbildliche Erinnerung’ of
the _robigo_ (i. e. ‘red fox’), which was to be feared and guarded
against at this time of year. Mannhardt thinks rather of the corn-foxes
or corn-spirits of France and Germany, of which he gives many
instances[253]. If the foxes were corn spirits, one does not quite see
why they should have brands fastened to their tails[254]. No exactly
parallel practice seems to be forthcoming, and the fox does not appear
elsewhere in ancient Italian or Greek folk-tales, as far as I can
discover. All that can be said is that the fox’s tail seems to have been
an object of interest, and possibly to have had some fertilizing
power[255], and some curious relation to ears of corn. Prof. Gubernatis
believes this tail to have been a phallic symbol[256]. We need not
accept his explanation, but we may be grateful to him for a modern
Italian folk-tale, from the region of Leghorn and the Maremma, in which
a fox is frightened away by chickens which carry each in its beak an ear
of millet; the fox is told that these ears are all foxes’ tails, and
runs for it.
Here we must leave this puzzle[257]; but whoever cares to read Ovid’s
lines about his journey towards his native Pelignian country, his
turning into the familiar lodging—
Hospitis antiqui solitas intravimus aedes,
and the tales he heard there—among them that of the fox—will find them
better worth reading than the greater part of the _Fasti_.
XI KAL. MAI. (APR. 21). NP.[258]
PAR[ILIA]. (CAER. MAFF. PRAEN.)
ROMA COND[ITA] FERIAE CORONATIS OM[NIBUS]. (CAER.)
N[ATALIS] URBIS. CIRCENSES MISSUS XXIV. (PHILOC.)
[A note in Praen. is hopelessly mutilated, with the exception of the
words IGNES and PRINCIPIO AN[NI PASTORICII[259]?]]
The Parilia[260], at once one of the oldest and best attested festivals
of the whole year, is at the same time the one whose features have been
most clearly explained by the investigations of parallels among other
races.
The first point to notice is that the festival was both public and
private, urban and rustic[261]. Ovid clearly distinguishes the two;
lines 721-734 deal with the urban festival, 735-782 with the rustic. The
explanations which follow deal with both. Pales, the deity (apparently
both masculine and feminine[262]) whose name the festival bears, was,
like Faunus, a common deity of Italian pasture land. A Palatium was said
by Varro to have been named after Pales at Reate, in the heart of the
Sabine hill-country[263]; and though this may not go for much, the
character of the Parilia, and the fact that Pales is called _rusticola_,
_pastoricia_, _silvicola_, &c., are sufficient to show the original
non-urban character of the deity. He (or she) was a shepherd’s deity of
the simplest kind, and survived in Rome as little more than a name[264]
from the oldest times, when the earliest invaders drove their cattle
through the Sabine mountains. Here, then, we seem to have a clear
example of a rite which was originally a rustic one, and survived as
such, while at the same time one local form of it was kept up in the
great city, and had become entangled with legend and probably altered in
some points of ritual. We will take the rustic form first.
Here we may distinguish in Ovid’s account[265] the following ritualistic
acts.
1. The sheep-fold[266] was decked with green boughs and a great wreath
was hung on the gate:
Frondibus et fixis decorentur ovilia ramis,
Et tegat ornatas longa corona fores.
With this Mannhardt[267] aptly compares the like concomitants of the
midsummer fires in North Germany, Scotland, and England. In Scotland,
for example, before the bonfires were kindled on midsummer eve, the
houses were decorated with foliage brought from the woods[268]. The
custom of decoration at special seasons, May-day, mid-summer, harvest,
and Christmas, is even now, with the exception of midsummer, universal,
and is probably descended from these primitive rites, by which our
ancestors sought in some mysterious way to influence the working of the
powers of vegetation.
2. At the earliest glimmer of daybreak the shepherd purified the sheep.
This was done by sprinkling and sweeping the fold; then a fire was made
of heaps of straw, olive-branches, and laurel, to give good omen by the
crackling, and through this apparently the shepherds leapt, and the
flocks were driven[269]. For this we have, of course, numerous parallels
from all parts of the world. Burning sulphur was also used:
Caerulei fiant vivo de sulfure fumi
Tactaque fumanti sulfure balet ovis[270].
3. After this the shepherd brought offerings to Pales, of whom there may
perhaps have been in the farmyard a rude image made of wood[271]; among
these were baskets of millet and cakes of the same, pails of milk, and
other food of appropriate kinds. The meal which followed the shepherd
himself appears to have shared with Pales[272]. Then he prays to the
deity to avert all evil from himself and his flocks; whether he or they
have unwittingly trespassed on sacred ground and caused the nymphs or
fauni to fly from human eyes; or have disturbed the sacred fountains,
and used branches of a sacred tree for secular ends. In these petitions
the genuine spirit of Italian religion—the awe of the unknown, the fear
of committing unwittingly some act that may bring down wrath upon you—is
most vividly brought out in spite of the Greek touches and names which
are introduced. He then goes on to his main object[273]:
Pelle procul morbos: valeant hominesque gregesque,
Et valeant vigiles, provida turba, canes.
Absit iniqua fames. Herbae frondesque supersint,
Quaeque lavent artus, quaeque bibantur, aquae.
Ubera plena premam: referat mihi caseus aera,
Dentque viam liquido vimina rara sero.
Sitque salax aries, conceptaque semina coniunx
Reddat, et in stabulo multa sit agna meo.
Lanaque proveniat nullas laesura puellas,
Mollis et ad teneras quamlibet apta manus.
Quae precor eveniant: et nos faciamus ad annum
Pastorum dominae grandia liba Pali.
This prayer must be said four times over[274], the shepherd looking to
the east and wetting his hands with the morning dew[275]. The position,
the holy water, and the prayer in its substance, though now addressed to
the Virgin, have all descended to the Catholic shepherd of the Campagna.
4. Then a bowl is to be brought, a wooden antique bowl apparently[276],
from which milk and purple _sapa_, i. e. heated wine, may be drunk,
until the drinker feels the influence of the fumes, and when he is well
set he may leap over the burning heaps:
Moxque per ardentes stipulae crepitantis acervos
Traiicias celeri strenua membra pede[277].
The Parilia of the urbs was celebrated in much the same way in its main
features; but the day was reckoned as the birthday of Rome, and
doubtless on this account it came under the influence of priestly
organization[278]. It is connected with two other very ancient
festivals: that of the Fordicidia and that of the ‘October horse.’ The
blood which streamed from the head of the horse sacrificed on the Ides
of October was kept by the Vestals in the Penus Vestae, and mixed with
the ashes of the unborn calves burnt at the Fordicidia; and the mixture
seems to have been thrown upon heaps of burning bean-straw to make it
smoke, while over the smoke and flames men and women leaped on the
Palatine Hill[279]. The object was of course purification; Ovid calls
the blood, ashes, and straw _februa casta_, i. e. holy agents of
purification, and adds in allusion to their having been kept by the
Vestals:
Vesta dabit: Vestae munere _purus_ eris.
Ovid had himself taken part in the rite; had fetched the _suffimen_, and
leaped three times through the flames, his hands sprinkled with dew from
a laurel branch. Whether the _februa_ were considered to have
individually any special significance or power, it is hard to say.
Mannhardt, who believed the ‘October horse’ to be a corn-demon, thought
that the burning of its blood symbolized the renewal of its life in the
spring, while the ashes thrown into the fire signified the safe passage
of the growing crops through the heat of the summer[280]; but about this
so judicious a writer is naturally not disposed to dogmatize. We can,
however, be pretty sure that the purification was supposed to carry with
it protection from evil influences both for man and beast, and also to
aid the growth of vegetation. The theory of Mannhardt, adopted by Mr.
Frazer, that the whole class of ceremonies to which the Parilia clearly
belongs, i. e. the Easter and Midsummer fires and Need-fires of central
and northern Europe, may best be explained as charms to procure
sunshine,[281] has much to be said for it, but does not seem to find any
special support in the Roman rite.
It may be noted in conclusion that a custom of the same kind, and one
perhaps connected with a cult of the sun,[282] took place not far from
Rome, at Mount Soracte; at what time of year we do not know. On this
hill there was a worship of Apollo Soranus,[283] a local deity, to which
was attached a kind of guild of worshippers called Hirpi Sorani, or
wolves of Soranus;[284] and of these we may guess, from the legend told
of their origin, that in order to avert pestilence, &c., they dressed or
behaved themselves like wolves.[285] Also on a particular day, perhaps
the summer solstice, these Hirpi ran through the flames, ‘super ambustam
ligni struem ambulantes non aduruntur,’[286] and on this account were
excused by a senatus consultum from all military or other service. A
striking parallel with this last feature is quoted by Mannhardt, from
Mysore, where the Harawara are degraded Brahmins who act as priests in
harvest-time, and make a living by running through the flames unhurt
with naked soles: but in this case there seems to be no animal
representation. Mannhardt tries to explain the Hirpi as dramatic
representations of the Corn-wolf or vegetation spirit.[287] On the other
hand, it is possible to consider them as survivals of an original clan
who worshipped the wolf as a totem[288]; a view adopted by Mr.
Lang[289], who compares the _bear_-maidens of Artemis at Brauron in
Attica. But the last word has yet to be said about these obscure
animalistic rites.
IX KAL. MAI. (APR. 23). FP (CAER.) NP (MAFF.) F (PRAEN.)[290]
VEIN[ALIA] (CAER.) VIN[ALIA] (MAFF. PRAEN. ESQ.)
Praen. has a mutilated note beginning IO[VI], and ending with [CUM
LATINI BELLO PREME]RENTUR A RUTULIS, QUIA MEZENTIUS REX ETRUS[CO]RUM
PACISCEBATUR, SI SUBSIDIO VENISSET, OMNIUM ANNORUM VINI FRUCTUM. (Cp.
Festus, 65 and 374, where it appears that libations of all new wine were
made to Jupiter.)
VENERI (CAER.)
[V]EBERI ERUC. [EXTR]A PORTAM COLLIN[AM]. (ARV.)
This day was generally known as Vinalia Priora, as distinguished from
the Vinalia Rustica of August 19. Both days were believed to be sacred
to Venus[291]; the earlier one, according to Ovid, was the
foundation-day of the temple of Venus Erycina, with which he connected
the legend of Aeneas and Mezentius. But as both Varro and Verrius are
agreed that the days were sacred, not to Venus but to Jupiter[292], we
may leave the legend alone and content ourselves with asking how Venus
came into the connexion.
The most probable supposition is that this day being, as Ovid implies,
the dies natalis of one of the temples of Venus[293], the Vinalia also
came to be considered as sacred to the goddess. The date of the
foundation was 181 B.C., exactly at a time when many new worships, and
especially Greek ones, were being introduced into Rome[294]. That of the
Sicilian Aphrodite, under the name of Venus, seems to have become at
once popular with its _Graecus ritus_ and _lascivia maior_[295]; and the
older connexion of the festival with Jupiter tended henceforward to
disappear. It must be noted, however, that the day of the Vinalia
Rustica in August was also the dies natalis of one if not two other
temples of Venus[296], and one of these was as old as the year B.C. 293.
Thus we can hardly avoid the conclusion that there was, even at an early
date, some connexion in the popular mind between the goddess and wine.
The explanation is perhaps to be found in the fact that Venus was
specially a deity of gardens, and therefore no doubt of vineyards[297].
An interesting inscription from Pompeii confirms this, and attests the
connexion of Venus with wine and gardens, as it is written on a
wine-jar[298]:
PRESTA MI SINCERU[M] ITA TE AMET QUE
CUSTODIT ORTU[M] VENUS.
The Vinalia, then, both in April and August, was really and originally
sacred to Jupiter. The legendary explanation is given by Ovid in 11.
877-900. Whatever the true explanation may have been, the fact can be
illustrated from the ritual employed; for it was the Flamen Dialis[299]
who ‘vindemiam auspicatus est,’ i. e. after sacrificing plucked the
first grapes. Whether this auspicatio took place on either of the
Vinalia has indeed been doubted, for even August 19 would hardly seem to
suit the ceremony Varro describes[300]; but the fact that it was
performed by the priest of Jupiter is sufficient for our purpose.
Of this day, April 23, we may guess that it was the one on which the
wine-skins were first opened, and libations from them made to Jupiter.
These are probably the libations about which Plutarch[301] asks ‘Why do
they pour much wine from the temple of Venus on the Veneralia’ (i. e.
Vinalia)? The same libations are attested by Verrius: ‘Vinalia diem
festum habebant quo die vinum novum Iovi libabant’[302]. After the
libation the wine was tasted, as we learn from Pliny[303]; and it seems
probable that it was brought from the country into Rome for this purpose
only a few days before. Varro has preserved an interesting notice which
he saw posted in vineyards at Tusculum: ‘In Tusculanis hortis (MSS.
sortis) est scriptum: ‘Vinum novum ne vehatur in urbem ante quam vinalia
kalentur’[304]; i. e. wine-growers were warned that the new wine was not
to be brought into the city until the Vinalia had been proclaimed on the
Nones. It must, however, be added that this notice may have had
reference to the Vinalia in August; for Verrius, if he is rightly
reported by Paulus[305], gives August 19 as the day on which the wine
might be brought into Rome. Paulus may be wrong, and have confused the
two Vinalia[306]; but in that case we remain in the dark as to what was
done at the Vinalia Rustica, unless indeed we explain it as a rite
intended to secure the vintage that was to follow against malignant
influences. This would seem to be indicated by Pliny (_H. N._ 18. 284),
where he classes this August festival with the Robigalia and
Floralia[307], and further on quotes Varro to prove that its object was
to appease the storms (i. e. to be expected in September).
As regards the connexion of the vine-culture with Jupiter, it should be
observed that the god is not spoken of as Jupiter Liber, but simply
Jupiter; and though the vine was certainly introduced into Italy from
Greece, we need not assume that Dionysus, coming with it, was from the
beginning attached to or identified with Jupiter. The gift of wine might
naturally be attributed to the great god of the air, light, and heat;
the Flamen Dialis who ‘vindemiam auspicatus est’ was not the priest of
Jupiter Liber; nor does the aetiological legend, in which the Latins
avoid the necessity of yielding their first-fruits to the Etruscan
tyrant Mezentius by dedicating them to Jupiter, point to any other than
the protecting deity of Latium.[308]
VII KAL. MAI. (APRIL 25). NP.
[ROB]IGALIA. (CAER. ESQ. MAFF. PRAEN.)
Note in Praen: FERIAE ROBIGO VIA CLAUDIA AD MILLIARIUM V NE ROBIGO
FRUMENTIS NOCEAT. SACRIFICIUM ET LUDI CURSORIBUS MAIORIBUS MINORIBUSQUE
FIUNT. FESTUS EST PUERORUM LENONIORUM, QUIA PROXIMUS SUPERIOR MERETRICUM
EST.
Robigo means red rust or mildew which attacks cereals when the ear is
beginning to be formed[309], and which is better known and more dreaded
on the continent than with us. This destructive disease is not caused by
the sun’s heat, as Pliny[310] tells us was the notion of some Italians,
but by damp acting in conjunction with a certain height of temperature,
as Pliny himself in fact explains it.
Robigus[311] is the spirit who works in the mildew; and it has been
conjectured that he was a form or indigitation of Mars[312], since
Tertullian tells us that ‘Marti et Robigini Numa ludos instituit’[313].
This is quite consistent with all we know of the Mars of the
farm-worship, who is invoked to avert evil simply because he can be the
creator of it[314]. The same feature is found in the worship of Apollo,
who had at Rhodes the cult-title ἐρυθίβιος[315], or Apollo of the
blight, as elsewhere he is Apollo Smintheus, i. e. the power that can
bring and also avert the pest of field-mice.
Robigus had a grove of his own at the fifth milestone on the Via
Claudia; and Ovid relates in pretty verses how, as he was returning from
Nomentum (doubtless by way of his own gardens, which were at the
junction of the Via Claudia with the Via Flaminia near the Milvian
bridge[316]), he met the Flamen Quirinalis with the _exta_ of a dog and
a sheep to offer to the god[317]. He joined the procession, which was
apparently something quite new to him, and witnessed the ceremony,
noting the _meri patera_, the _turis acerra_, and the rough linen
napkin[318], at the priest’s right hand. He versified the prayer which
he heard, and which is not unlike that which Cato directs the husbandman
to address to Mars in the lustration of the farm[319]:
Aspera Robigo, parcas Cerialibus herbis,
Et tremat in summa leve cacumen humo.
Tu sata sideribus caeli nutrita secundi
Crescere, dum fiant falcibus apta, sinas.
Parce, precor, scabrasque manus a messibus aufer,
Neve noce cultis: posse nocere sat est, &c.
Ovid then asked the flamen why a dog—_nova victima_—was sacrificed, and
was told that the dangerous Dog-star was in the ascendant[320]:
Est Canis, Icarium dicunt, quo sidere moto
Tosta sitit tellus, praecipiturque seges.
Pro cane sidereo canis hic imponitur arae,
Et quare pereat, nil nisi nomen habet.
In this, however, both he and the priest were certainly mistaken. Sirius
does not rise, but disappears on April 25, at sunset; and it is almost
certain that the sacrifice of the dog had nothing to do with the star.
The real meaning of the choice of victim was unknown both to priest and
poet: but modern research has made a reasonable attempt to recover
it[321].
We are told[322] of a sacrifice of reddish sucking whelps, and of augury
made from their _exta_, which must have been closely connected with the
Robigalia, if not (in later times at least) identified with it.
Originally it was not on a fixed day, as is proved by an extract from
the _commentarii pontificum_ quoted by Pliny[323]; but it is quite
possible that for convenience, as the religio of the urbs got more and
more dissociated from the agriculture in which it had its origin, the
date was fixed for April 25—the rites of the Robigalia being of the same
kind, and the date suitable. The whelps were red or reddish; and from
the language of Festus, quoting Ateius Capito, we gather that this
colour was supposed to resemble that of the corn when ripe: ‘Rufae canes
immolabantur, ut fruges _flavescentes_ ad maturitatem perducerentur’ (p.
285). We should indeed naturally have expected that the rufous colour
was thought to resemble the red mildew, as Mannhardt explains it[324];
but we do not know for certain that these puppies were offered to
Robigus. In any case, however, we may perhaps see in them an animal
representation of the corn, and in the rite a piece of ‘sympathetic
magic’[325], the object of which was to bring the corn to its golden
perfection, or to keep off the robigo, or both. If we knew more about
the dog-offering at the grove of Robigus, we might find that it too, if
not indeed identical with the _augurium_, had a similar intention.
The red mildew was at times so terrible a scourge that the Robigalia
must in early Rome, when the population lived on the corn grown near the
city, have been a festival of very real meaning. But later on it became
obscured, and gave way to the races mentioned in the note in the
Praenestine calendar[326], and under the later empire to the Christian
_litania maior_, the original object of which was also the safety of the
crops[327]. The 25th is at present St. Mark’s day.
IV KAL. MAI. (APR. 28). NP.
LOEDI FLOR[AE] (CAER.) LUDI FLOR[AE]. (MAFF. PRAEN.)
V NON. MAI. (MAY 3). C.
FLORAE (VEN.).
On the intervening days were also ludi (_C. I. L._ 317).
Note in Praen. (Apr. 28): EODEM DIE AEDIS FLORAE, QUAE REBUS
FLORESCENDIS PRAEEST, DEDICATA EST PROPTER STERILITATEM FRUGUM.
This was not a very ancient festival and is not marked in the Calendars
in those large letters which are believed to indicate extreme
antiquity[328]. Its history seems to be as follows: in 238 B.C. in
consequence of a dearth, the Sibylline Books were consulted, and games
in honour of Flora were held for the first time by plebeian
aediles[329]; also a temple was dedicated to her _ad circum maximum_ on
April 28 of that year[330]. There seems to be a certain connexion
between the accounts of the institution of the Floralia and the
Cerialia. Dearth was the alleged cause in each case; and the position of
the temple of Flora near that of Ceres: the foundation by plebeian
magistrates, in this case the two Publicii[331], who as aediles were
able to spend part of the fines exacted from defaulting holders of _ager
publicus_ on this object[332]: and the coarse character of the games as
Ovid describes them, all seem to show that the foundation was a plebeian
one, like that of the Cerialia[333].
There may, however, have been something in the nature of ludi before
this date and at the same time of year, but not of a regular or public
character. Flora was beyond doubt an old Italian deity[334], probably
closely related to Ceres and Venus. There was a Flamen Floralis of very
old standing[335]; and Flora is one of the deities to whom piacula were
offered by the Fratres Arvales[336]—a list beginning with Janus and
ending with Vesta. There is no doubt, then, that there was a Flora-cult
in Rome long before the foundation of the temple and the games in 238;
and though its character may have changed under the influence of the
Sibylline books, we may be able to glean some particulars as to its
original tendency.
In the account of Ovid and from other hints we gather—
1. That indecency was let loose[337] at any rate on the original day of
the ludi (April 28), which were in later times extended to May 3. The
numen of Flora, says Ovid, was not strict. Drunkenness was the order of
the day, and the usual results followed:
Ebrius ad durum formosae limen amicae
Cantat: habent unctae mollia serta comae.
The prostitutes of Rome hailed this as their feast-day, as well as the
Vinalia on the 23rd; and if we may trust a story told by Valerius
Maximus[338], Cato the younger withdrew from the theatre rather than
behold the mimae unclothe themselves, though he would not interfere with
the custom. Flora herself, like Acca Larentia, was said by late writers
to have been a harlot whose gains enabled her to leave money for the
ludi[339]. These characteristics of the festival were no doubt developed
under the influence of luxury in a large city, and grew still more
objectionable under the Empire[340]. But it is difficult to believe that
such practices would have grown up as they did at this particular time
of year, had there not been some previous customs of the kind existing
before the ludi were regularly instituted.
2. We find another curious custom belonging to the last days of the
ludi, which became common enough under the Empire[341], but may yet have
had an origin in the cult of Flora. Hares and goats were let loose in
the Circus Maximus on these days. Ovid asks Flora:
Cur tibi pro Libycis clauduntur rete[342] leaenis
Imbelles capreae sollicitusque lepus?
and gets the answer:
Non sibi, respondit, silvas cessisse, sed hortos
Arvaque pugnaci non adeunda ferae.
If we take this answer as at least appropriate, we may add to it the
reflection that hares and goats are prolific animals and also that they
are graminivorous. Flora as a goddess of fertility and bloom could have
nothing in common with fierce carnivora. But we are also reminded of the
foxes that were let loose in the Circus at the Cerialia[343], and may
see in these beasts as in the foxes animal representations of the spirit
of fertility.
3. Another custom is possibly significant in something the same way.
From a passage in Persius we learn that vetches, beans, and lupines were
scattered among the people in the circus[344]. The commentators explain
this as meaning that they were thrown simply to be scrambled for as
food; and we know that other objects besides eatables were thrown on
similar occasions, at any rate at a later time[345]. But it is
noticeable that among these objects were medals with obscene
representations on them; and putting two and two together it is not
unreasonable to guess that the original custom had a meaning connected
with fructification. Dr. Mannhardt[346] has collected a very large
number of examples of the practice of sprinkling and throwing all kinds
of grain, including rice, peas, beans, &c., from all parts of the world,
in the marriage rite and at the birth of children; amply sufficient to
prove that the custom is symbolic of fertility. Bearing in mind the time
of year, the nature of Flora, the character of the April rites
generally, and the occurrence of the women’s cult of the Bona Dea on May
1, viz. one of the days of the ludi, we may perhaps conjecture that the
custom in question was a very old one—far older than the organized
games—and had reference to the fertility both of the earth and of man
himself[347].
Feriae Latinae.
A brief account may be here given of the great Latin festival which
usually in historical times took place in April. Though it was not held
at Rome, but on the Alban Mount, it was under the direct supervision of
the Roman state, and was in reality a Roman festival. The consuls on
their entrance upon office on the Ides of March had to fix and announce
the date of it[348]; and when in 153 B.C. the day of entrance was
changed to January 1, the date of the festival does not seem to have
been changed to suit it. The consuls must be present themselves, leaving
a _praefectus urbi_ at Rome[349]; or in case of the compulsory absence
of both consuls a dictator might be appointed _Feriarum Latinarum
causa_. Only when the festival was over could they leave Rome for their
provinces.
It was therefore a festival of the highest importance to the Roman
state. But the ritual will show that it must in fact have been much
older than that state as we know it in historical times; it was a common
festival of the most ancient Latin communities[350], celebrated on the
lofty hill which arose in their midst, where dwelt the great protecting
deity of their race. At what date Rome became the presiding city at the
festival we do not know. The foundation of the temple on the hill was
ascribed to the Tarquinii, and this tradition seems to be borne out by
the character of the foundations discovered there, which resemble those
of the Capitoline temple[351]. No doubt the Tarquinii may have renovated
the cult or even given it an extended significance; but the Roman
presidency must conjecturally be placed still further back. Perhaps no
festival, Greek or Roman, carries us over such a vast period of time as
this; its features betray its origin in the pastoral age, and it
continued in almost uninterrupted grandeur till the end of the third
century A.D., or even later[352].
The ritual as known to us was as follows[353]. When the magistrates or
(their deputies) of all the Latin cities taking part had assembled at
the temple, the Roman consul offered a libation of milk, while the
deputies from the other cities brought sheep, cheeses, or other such
offerings. But the characteristic rite was the slaughter of a pure white
heifer that had never felt the yoke. This sacrifice was the duty of the
consul, who acted on behalf of the whole number of cities. When it was
concluded, the flesh of the victim was divided amongst all the deputies
and consumed by them. To be left out of this common meal, or sacrament,
would be equivalent to being excluded from communion with the god and
the Latin league, and the desire to obtain the allotted flesh is more
than once alluded to[354]. A general festivity followed the sacrifice,
while _oscilla_, or little puppets, were hung from the branches of trees
as at the Paganalia[355]. As usual in Italy, the least oversight in the
ceremony or evil omen made it necessary to begin it all over again; and
this occasionally happened[356]. Lastly, during the festival there was a
truce between all the cities, and it would seem that the alliance
between Rome and the Latins was yearly renewed on the day of the
Feriae[357].
Some of the leading characteristics of the Italian Jupiter will be
considered further on[358]. But this festival may teach us that we are
here in the presence of the oldest and finest religious conception of
the Latin race, which yearly acknowledges its common kinship of blood
and seals it by partaking in the common meal of a sacred victim, thus
entering into communion with the god, the victim, and each other[359].
The offerings are characteristic rather of a pastoral than an
agricultural age, and suggest an antiquity that is fully confirmed by
the ancient utensils dug up on the Alban Mount[360]. As Helbig has
pointed out, the absence of any mention of wine proves that the origin
of the festival must be dated earlier than the introduction of the grape
into Italy. The white victim may be a reminiscence of some primitive
white breed of cattle. The common meal of the victim’s flesh is a
survival from the age when cattle were sacred animals, and were never
slain except on the solemn annual occasions when the clan renewed its
kinship and its mutual obligations by a solemn sacrament[361].
As Rome absorbed Latium, so Jupiter Latiaris gave way before the great
god of the Capitol, who is the symbol of the later victorious and
imperial Rome; but the god of the Alban hill and his yearly festival
continued to recall the early share of the Latins in the rise of their
leading city, long after the population of their towns had been so
terribly thinned that some of them could hardly find a surviving member
to represent them at the festival and take their portion of the
victim[362].
Footnote 186:
Varro, _L. L._ 6. 33; Censorinus, 2. 20. Verrius Flaccus in the
heading to April in Fasti Praen.: ... ‘quia fruges flores animaliaque
et maria et terrae aperiuntur.’ Mommsen, _Chron._ 222. Ovid quaintly
forsakes the scholars to claim the month for Venus (Aphrodite),
_Fasti_, 4. 61 foll. I do not know why Mr. Granger should call it the
boar-month (from _aper_), in his _Worship of the Romans_, p. 294.
Footnote 187:
_Segetes runcuri_, Varro, _R. R._ I. 30. Columella’s instructions are
of the same kind (II. 2).
Footnote 188:
_C. I. L._ 280.
Footnote 189:
_Röm. Jahr_, 216.
Footnote 190:
February has thirteen, all but two between Kal. and Ides. The Nones
and Ides are NP. April has thirteen between Nones and 22nd; or
fourteen if we include the 19th, which is NP in Caer. The Ides are NP,
Nones N.
Footnote 191:
See the fragmentary heading to the month in Fasti Praen.; Ovid, l. c.;
Lydus, 4. 45; Tutela Veneris, in rustic calendars; Veneralia (April
1), Philocalus.
Footnote 192:
Varro, _R. R._ 1. 1. 6: ‘Item adveneror Minervam et Venerem, quarum
unius procuratio oliveti, alterius _hortorum_.’ Cp. _L. L._ 6. 20
‘Quod tum (Aug. 19) dedicata aedes et horti ei deae dicantur ac tum
fiant feriati _holitores_.’ Cf. Preller, _Myth._ i. 434 foll. The
oldest Venus-temple was in the low ground of the Circus Maximus (B.C.
295). “Venus, like Ceres, may have been an old Roman deity of the
plebs, but she never entered into the State-worship in early times.”
Macrob. 1. 12. 12 quotes Cincius (_de Fastis_) and Varro to prove that
she had originally nothing to do with April, and that there was no
_dies festus_ or _insigne sacrificium_ in her honour during the month.
Footnote 193:
4. 45 Ταῖς τοίνυν καλάνδαις ἀπριλλίαις αἱ σεμναὶ γυναικῶν ὑπὲρ
ὁμονοίας καὶ βίου σώφρονος ἐτίμων τὴν Ἀφροδίτην· αἱ δὲ τοῦ πλήθους
γυναῖκες ἐν τοῖς τῶν ἀνδρῶν βαλανείοις ἐλούοντο, πρὸς θεραπείαν αὐτῆς
μυρσίνη ἐστεμμέναι, κ.τ.λ. Cp. Macrob. 1. 12. 15.
Footnote 194:
_C. I. L._ 315.
Footnote 195:
We shall find some reason for believing that in the early Republican
period new cults came in rather through plebeian than patrician agency
(see below, on Cerealia). But in the period of the new nobilitas the
lower classes seem rather to have held to their own cults, while the
upper social stratum was more ready to accept new ones. See below, on
April 4, for the conditions of such acceptance. The tendency is to be
explained by the wide and increasing sphere of the foreign relations
of the Senatorial government.
Footnote 196:
_Fasti_, 4. 133-164.
Footnote 197:
Ovid, l. c. 149 foll.
Footnote 198:
Robertson Smith, _Religion of the Semites_, p. 456.
Footnote 199:
_Quaest. Rom._ 74.
Footnote 200:
Ovid, l. c., 4. 160 ‘Inde Venus verso nomina corde tenet.’
Footnote 201:
Aust, _de Aedibus sacris_, p. 28. About a century earlier a statue of
this Venus was said to have been erected (Val. Max. 8. 15. 12; Plin.
_H. N._ 7. 120), as Wissowa pointed out in his Essay, ‘de Veneris
Simulacris,’ p. 12.
Footnote 202:
See above, p. 67, note 2.
Footnote 203:
_Religion of the Semites_, p. 450 foll.
Footnote 204:
Preller, i. 446.
Footnote 205:
Livy, 29. 10 and 14; Ovid (_Fasti_, 4. 259 foll.) has a fanciful
edition of the story which well illustrates the character of his work,
and that of the legend-mongers; cp. Preller, ii. 57.
Footnote 206:
Preller, ii. 55.
Footnote 207:
Plin. _H. N._ 18. 16; Arnobius, 7. 49.
Footnote 208:
Livy, 29. 10, 14.
Footnote 209:
See above, Introduction, p. 7.
Footnote 210:
_de Harusp. Resp._ 12. 24 ‘Qui uni ludi ne verbo quidem appellantur
Latino, ut vocabulo ipso et appetita religio externa et Matris Magnae
nomine suscepta declaretur.’
Footnote 211:
Dion. Hal. 2. 19. A very interesting passage, in which, among other
comments, the historian points out that in receiving the goddess the
Romans eliminated ἅπασαν τερθρείαν μυθικήν.
Footnote 212:
Aust, _de Aedibus sacris_, pp. 22 and 49.
Footnote 213:
Gell. 18. 2. 11 (patricii); cp. 2. 24. 2 (principes civitatis). Cp.
Lydus, 4. 45; Verrius’ note in Praen., ‘_Nobilium mutitationes
cenarum_ solitae sunt frequenter fieri,’ &c.
Footnote 214:
See Marq. 370 foll. The Ludi eventually extended from the 4th to the
10th inclusive (_C. I. L._ 314).
Footnote 215:
Or Hordicidia, Fest. 102; Hordicalia, Varro, _R. R._ 2. 5. 6;
Fordicalia, Lydus, 4. 49. ‘Forda ferens bos est fecundaque, dicta
ferendo,’ Ovid, _Fasti_, 4. 631.
Footnote 216:
Ovid, l. c. 635 ‘Pars cadit arce Iovis. Ter denas curia vaccas
Accipit, et largo sparsa cruore madet.’ Cp. Varro, _L. L._ 6. 15.
Preller, ii. 6, understands Ovid’s ‘pars’ as meaning more than one
cow.
Footnote 217:
Ovid, l. c. 633 ‘Nune gravidum pecus est, gravidae nunc semine terrae;
Telluri plenae victima plena datur.’
Footnote 218:
Ovid, l. c. 637.
Ast ubi visceribus vitulos rapuere ministri,
Sectaque fumosis exta dedere focis,
Igne cremat vitulos quae natu maxima Virgo,
Luce Palis populos purget ut ille cinis.
Footnote 219:
See below, p. 83.
Footnote 220:
This appears plainly in Ovid’s account (_Fasti_, 4. 633 foll.), and
also in that of Lydus (4. 49): περὶ τὰ σπόριμα ὑπὲρ εὐετηρίας
ἱεράτευον. Both doubtless drew on Varro. Lydus adds one or two
particulars, that the ἀρχιερεῖς (?) scattered flowers among the people
in the theatre, and went in procession outside the city, sacrificing
to Demeter at particular stations; but he may be confusing this
festival with the Ambarvalia.
Footnote 221:
See Mannhardt, _Myth. Forsch._ 190; cp. Frazer, _G. B._ ii. 43.
Footnote 222:
Fasti Praen.; _C. I. L._ 235, and Mommsen’s note (where Apr. is
misprinted Aug.). ‘[Hoc biduo sacrific]ium maximum Fortunae Prim[i]g.
utro eorum die oraclum patet, II viri vitulum I.’
Footnote 223:
Liv. 30. 39; Friedländer in Marq. 500; Mommsen, _Münzwesen_, p. 642,
note; _Staatsrecht_, i. 586.
Footnote 224:
_C. I. L._ 298.
Footnote 225:
In the Salian hymn _duonus cerus = creator bonus_ (of Janus): cf.
Varro, L. L. 7. 26; Mommsen, _Unteritalische Dialekten_, 133. See
articles _cerus_ (Wissowa) and _Ceres_ (Birt) in _Myth. Lex._;
Bücheler, _Umbrica_, 80 and 99.
Footnote 226:
‘Ceres a creando dicta,’ Serv. Georg. 1. 7. It is worth noting that in
Nonius Marcellus, 44, _cerriti = larvati_, where _cerus_ seems to mean
a ghost. If so, we have a good example of a common origin of ghosts
and gods in the animistic ideas of early Italy.
Footnote 227:
Arnob. 3. 40, quoting one Caesius, who followed Etruscan teaching, and
held that Ceres = Genius Iovialis et Pales. See Preller-Jordan, i. 81.
Footnote 228:
Preller-Jordan, i. 62. They were not even certain whether the Genius
Urbis was masculine or feminine; Serv. _Aen._ 2. 351.
Footnote 229:
Henzen, _Acta Fr. Arv._ p. 48. In later times Ceres took the place of
Mars at the Ambarvalia, under Greek influence.
Footnote 230:
So Henzen, l. c. and his Introduction, p. ix.
Footnote 231:
_Myth. Lex_, s.v. Ceres, 861. He does not, however, dogmatize, and has
little to adduce in favour of his opinion, save the statement of
Servius (Georg. 1. 7) that ‘Sabini Cererem Panem appellant.’
Footnote 232:
Preller Jordan, ii. 26.
Footnote 233:
Aust, _de Aedibus_, pp. 5 and 40. Preller-Jordan, ii. 38.
Footnote 234:
Birt (_Myth. Lex._ 862) gives the authorities.
Footnote 235:
The _trias_ of itself would prove the Greek origin: cf. Kuhfeldt, _de
Capitoliis_, p. 77 foll.
Footnote 236:
Plin. _H. N._ 35. 154. The names of two Greek artists were inscribed
on the temple.
Footnote 237:
Mommsen, _Staatsrecht_, ii. 2, 468, note.
Footnote 238:
Dion. Hal. 6. 89; 10. 42; Liv. 3. 55 says _sacer Iovi_, but the
property was to be sold at the temple of Ceres, Liber, and Libera. The
corn-stealer also was _sacer Cereri_.
Footnote 239:
Liv. 10. 23; 27. 6; 33. 25.
Footnote 240:
Mommsen, _Hist_. i. 284, note. Cp. Schwegler, _Röm. Gesch._ ii. 275,
note 3, who thinks of an _aerarium plebis_ there. See also i. 606 and
ii. 278, note 3. According to Liv. 3. 55 senatus consulta had to be
deposited in this temple.
Footnote 241:
Burn, _Rome and the Campagna_, p. 204; Liv. 3. 31 and 32 fin.; cp. 10.
31.
Footnote 242:
e. g. by Ihne, vol. i. p. 160.
Footnote 243:
Schwegler, _R. G._ i. 783 foll.
Footnote 244:
Mommsen, _Staatsrecht_, ii. 2. 468, note 2, is doubtful as to the date
of the _cura annonae_ of the plebeian aediles. But Plin. _H. N._ 18.
3. 15 attributes it to an aedile of earlier date than Spurius Maelius
(B.C. 438); and though the Consuls may have had the general
supervision, the immediate _cura_, as far as the plebs was concerned,
would surely lie with their officers. Two points should be borne in
mind here—(1) that the plebeian population to be relieved would be a
surplus population _within the city_, not the farmer-population of the
country; (2) that it would probably be easier to transport corn by sea
than by land, as roads were few, and enemies all around.
Footnote 245:
Dion. Hal. 7.1, exposes the absurdity of Roman annalists in
attributing the corn-supply to Dionysius; but he himself talks of
Gelo. Cp. Ihne, i. 160. Ihne disbelieves the whole story, believing it
to be copied from events which happened long afterwards.
Footnote 246:
Ambrosch, _Studien_, p. 208. Tradition told that the Tarquinii had
stored up great quantities of corn in Rome, i. e. had fed their
workmen. Cp. Liv. 1. 56 and 2. 9.
Footnote 247:
Mommsen, _R. H._, bk. i. ch. 13 fin.
Footnote 248:
See under August 13 (below, p. 198) for the parallel foundation of the
temple of Diana on the Aventine, which also had a Greek and plebeian
character.
Footnote 249:
_Fasti_, 4. 681 foll. Ovid does not distinctly say that the foxes were
let loose in the Circus, but seems to imply it.
Footnote 250:
‘Factum abiit, monimenta manent; nam vivere captam
Nunc quoque lex volpem Carseolana vetat.’
The best MSS. have ‘nam dicere certam.’ Bergk conjectured ‘namque
icere captam.’ The reading given above is adopted from some inferior
MSS. by H. Peter (Leipzig, 1889), following Heinsius and Riese. Mr. S.
G. Owen of Ch. Ch., our best authority on the text of Ovid, has kindly
sent me the suggestion _namque ire repertam_, comparing, for the use
of _ire_, Ovid, _Am_. 3. 6. 20 ‘sic aeternus eas.’ This conjecture,
which occurred independently to myself, suits the sense and is close
to the reading of the best MSS.
Footnote 251:
J. Grimm, _Reinhardt der Fuchs_, cclxix (quoted by Peter). Ovid’s
explanation is of course wrong; the story is beyond doubt meant to
explain the ritual, or a law to which the ritual gave rise.
Footnote 252:
Preller-Jordan, ii. 43. See under Robigalia.
Footnote 253:
_Myth. Forsch._ 107 foll.
Footnote 254:
Ovid’s word is _terga_, but he must, I think, mean ‘tails.’
Footnote 255:
Mannhardt, op. cit. 185. Cp. Frazer, _Golden Bough_, i. 408; ii. 3 and
28 (for fertilizing power of tail).
Footnote 256:
_Zoological Mythology_, ii. 138.
Footnote 257:
It may be as well to note that the custom of tying some object in
straw—wheel, pole with cross-piece, man who slips out in time, &c.—and
then burning it and carrying it about the fields, is common in Europe
and elsewhere (Frazer, _G. B._ ii. 246 foll.). At the same time
animals are sometimes burnt in a bonfire: e.g. squirrels, cats, foxes,
&c. (_G. B._ ii. 283). The explanation of Mannhardt, adopted by Mr.
Frazer, is that they were corn-spirits burnt as a charm to secure
sunshine and vegetation. If the foxes were ever really let loose among
the fields, damage might occasionally be done, and stories might arise
like that of Carseoli, or even laws forbidding a dangerous practice.
Footnote 258:
In _C. I. L._ 315 this mark is confused with those of the 23rd.
Footnote 259:
The letters _an_ also appear in a fragment of a lost note in Esq.
Mommsen quotes Ovid, _Fasti_, 4. 775, and Tibull. 2. 5. 81 for the
idea of an _annus pastorum_ beginning on this day. I can find no
explanation of it, astronomical or other. Dion. Hal. 1. 88 calls the
day the beginning of spring, which it certainly was not.
Footnote 260:
For the form of the word see Mommsen, _C. I. L._ 315. (In Varro, _L.
L._ 6. 15, it is Palilia.) Preller-Jordan, i. 416.
Footnote 261:
‘Palilia tam privata quam publica sunt.’ Varro, ap Schol. in Persium,
1. 75. See on Compitalia, below, p. 279.
Footnote 262:
Serv. _Georg._ 3. 1: ‘Pales ... dea est pabuli. Hanc ... alii, inter
quos Varro, masculino genere vocant, ut hic Pales.’ There can be no
better proof of the antiquity of the deity in Italy.
Footnote 263:
_L. L._ 5. 53.
Footnote 264:
There was a _flamen Palatualis_ (Varro, _L. L._ 7. 45, and Fest. 245)
and an offering _Palatuar_ (Fest. 348), connected with a _Diva
Palatua_ of the Palatine, who may have been the urban and pontifical
form of Pales.
Footnote 265:
Ovid is borne out or supplemented by Tibull. 2. 5. 87 foll.; Propert.
4. 4. 75 foll.; Probus on Virg. _Georg._ 3. 1; Dionys. 1. 88, &c.
Footnote 266:
It is noticeable that sheep alone are mentioned in the ritual as Ovid
describes it.
Footnote 267:
_A. W. F._ p. 310. Cp. Frazer, _G. B._ ii. 246 foll.
Footnote 268:
_Chambers’ Journal_, July, 1842. For the custom in London, Brand,
_Pop. Antiquities_, p. 307.
Footnote 269:
So I understand Ovid: but in line 742 _in mediis focis_ might rather
indicate a fire in the _atrium_ of the house, and so Mannhardt takes
it. In that case the fire over which they leaped (line 805) was made
later on in the ceremony.
Footnote 270:
Cp. Hom. _Od_. 22. 481 Οἶσε θέειον, γρηύ, κακῶν ἄκος, οἶσε δέ μοι πῦρ,
Ὄφρα θεειώσω μέγαρον.
Footnote 271:
Tibull. 2. 5. 28 ‘Et facta agresti lignea falce Pales.’ Tib. seems
here to be transferring a rustic practice of his own day to the
earliest Romans of the Palatine. But he may be simply indulging his
imagination; and we cannot safely conclude that we have here a rude
Italian origin of anthropomorphic ideas of the gods.
Footnote 272:
Ovid, _Fasti_, 4. 743-746. esp ‘dapibus resectis.’ We can hardly
escape the conclusion that the idea of the common meal shared with the
gods was a genuine Italian one; it is found here, in the Terminalia
(Ovid, _Fasti_, 2. 655), and in the worship of Jupiter. See on Sept.
13 and Feb. 23.
Footnote 273:
_Fasti_, 4. 763 foll.
Footnote 274:
Four is unusual; three is the common number in religious rites.
Footnote 275:
‘Conversus ad ortus Die quater, et vivo perlue rore manus.’ Ovid may
perhaps be using _ros_ for fresh water of any kind; see H. Peter’s
note (Pt. II, p. 70). But the virtues of dew are great at this time of
year (e. g. May-day). See Brand, _Pop. Ant._ 218, and Mannhardt, _A.
W. F._ 312. Pepys records that his wife went out to gather May-dew;
_Diary_, May 10. 1669.
Footnote 276:
The word is _camella_ in Ovid, _Fasti_, 4. 779; cp. Petron. _Sat_,
135, and Gell. _N. A._ 16 7.
Footnote 277:
Or as Propertius has it (4. 4. 77):
‘Cumque super raros foeni flammantis acervos
Traiicit immundos ebria turba pedes.’
Footnote 278:
Ovid, _Fasti_, 4. 801 foll.; Prop. 4. 4. 73; Varro, _R. R._ 2. 1. 9.
Many other references are collected in Schwegler, _R. G._ i. 444, note
1. The tradition was certainly an ancient one, and the pastoral
character of the rite is in keeping with that of the legend. It is to
be noted that the sacrificing priest was originally the Rex Sacrorum
(Dionys. 1. 88), a fact which may well carry us back to the earliest
Roman age.
Footnote 279:
Ovid, _Fasti_, 4. 733 foll. ‘Sanguis equi suffimen erit vitulique
favilla. Tertia res durae culmen inane fabae.’ Whether the bonfire was
burnt on the Palatine itself does not seem certain, but it is a
reasonable conjecture.
Footnote 280:
He points out (p. 316) that the throwing of bones or burnt pieces of
an animal into the flames is common in northern Europe: hence bonfire
= bonefire.
Footnote 281:
_A. W. F._ 316; Frazer, _G. B._ ii. 274 foll.
Footnote 282:
Preller-Jordan, i. 268. Soranus is thought to be connected
etymologically with Sol. With this, however, Deecke disagrees
(_Falisker_, 96).
Footnote 283:
So called by Virg. _Aen._ II. 785 and Serv. ad loc. Who the deity
really was, we do not know. Apollo here had no doubt a Graeco-Etruscan
origin. Deecke (_Falisker_, 93) thinks of Dis Pater or Vediovis;
quoting Servius’ account and explanation of the cult. That the god was
Sabine, not Etruscan, is shown by the word _hirpi_.
Footnote 284:
Or of Soracte, if Soranus = Soractnus (Deecke).
Footnote 285:
Serv. l. c. tells the aetiological legend. Cp. Plin. _N. H._ 7. 11. It
has been dealt with fully by Mannhardt, _A. W. F._ 318 foll.
Footnote 286:
Plin. l. c.; Varro (ap. Serv. l. c.) asserted that they used a salve
for their feet which protected them. The same thing is said, I
believe, of the Harawara in India.
Footnote 287:
According to Strabo, p. 226, this fire-ceremony took place in the
grove of Feronia, at the foot of the hill. Feronia may have been a
corn- or harvest-deity, and of this Mannhardt makes all he can. We may
at least guess that the rite took place at Midsummer.
Footnote 288:
Cp. the cult of Zeus Lykaios in Arcadia; Farnell, _Cults of the Greek
States_, i. 41.
Footnote 289:
_Myth., Ritual, and Religion_, ii. 212.
Footnote 290:
This peculiar notation is common to this day and Aug. 19 (the Vinalia
Rustica), and to the Feralia (Feb. 21). See Introduction, p. 10.
Footnote 291:
Ovid, _Fasti_, 4. 877, asks: ‘Cur igitur Veneris festum Vinalia
dicant, Quaeritis?‘
Footnote 292:
Varro, _L. L._ 6. 16; Fest. 65 and 374. The latter gloss is: ‘Vinalia
diem festum habebant, quo die vinum novum Iovi libabant.’ Ovid,
_Fasti_, 4. 899, after telling the Mezentius story (alluded to in the
note in Praen.), adds
Dicta dies hinc est Vinalia: Iuppiter illam
Vindicat, et festis gaudet inesse suis.
Footnote 293:
Ovid, _Fasti_, 4. 871
Templa frequentari Collinae proxima portae
Nunc decet; a Siculo nomina colle tenent.
He seems to have confused this temple with that on the Capitol (Aust,
_de Aedibus_, 23).
Footnote 294:
Liv. 40. 34. 4.
Footnote 295:
Aust, ib. p. 24. Varro wrote a satire ‘Vinalia περὶ ἀφροδισίων.’
Plutarch (_Q. R._ 45) confuses Vinalia and Veneralia.
Footnote 296:
Festus, 264 and 265; in the Vallis Murcia (or Circus maximus), and the
lucus Libitinae. (In 265, xiii Kal. Sept. should be xiv.) For the date
of the former temple, 293 B.C., Liv. 10. 31. 9.
Footnote 297:
Varro, _R. R._ 1. 1; Fest. 265; Preller-Jordan, i. 441.
Footnote 298:
_C. I. L._ iv. 2776.
Footnote 299:
Varro, _L. L._ 6. 16. See _Myth. Lex._ s. v. Iuppiter, 704 foll.
Footnote 300:
Mommsen, _C. I. L._ 326. Vindemia is the _grape_-harvest. Hartmann,
_Röm. Kal._ 138, differs from Mommsen on this point.
Footnote 301:
_Q. R._ 45.
Footnote 302:
Fest. 65.
Footnote 303:
_H. N._ 18. 287.
Footnote 304:
_L. L._ 6. 16. _Hortis_ is Mommsen’s very probable emendation for
_sortis_ of the MSS. O. Müller has _sacris_, which is preferred by
Jordan (Preller, i. 196).
Footnote 305:
264.
Footnote 306:
Mommsen (_C. I. L._ 326) thinks that there is no mistake in the gloss;
but that the Vinalia Rustica represent a later and luxurious fashion
of allowing a whole year to elapse before tasting the wine, instead of
six months. From the vintage, however (end of September or beginning
of October), to August 19 is not a whole year. See under August 19.
Footnote 307:
‘Tria namque tempora fructibus metuebant, propter quod instituerunt
ferias diesque festos, Robigalia, Floralia, Vinalia.’ That the
Vinalia here referred to is the August one is clear, not only from
the order of the words, but from what follows, down to the end of
sec. 289. Secs. 287 to end of 288 deal with the Vinalia priora
_parenthetically_; in 289 Pliny returns to the Vinalia altera (or
rustica), after thus clearing the ground by making it clear that the
April Vinalia ‘nihil ad fructus attinent.’ He then quotes Varro to
show that in August the object is to avert storms which might damage
the vineyards. Mommsen, _C. I. L. 326_, seems to me to have misread
this passage.
Footnote 308:
Ovid, _Fasti_, 877 foll.: the legend was an old one for it is quoted
by Macrob. (_Sat._ 3. 5. 10) from Cato’s _Origines_. See also Hehn,
_Kulturpflanzen_, 65 foll., who is, however, in error as to the
identification of Jupiter (Liber) with Ζεὶς Ἐλευθέριος.
Footnote 309:
See Columella, 2. 12; Plin. _N. II._ 18. 91; and article, ‘Mildew,’ in
_Encycl. Brit._ For the botanical character of this parasite see
Worthington Smith’s _Diseases of Field and Garden Crops_, chs. 21 and
23; and Hugh Macmillan’s _Bible Teachings from Nature_, p. 120 foll.
Footnote 310:
_N. H._ 18. 273: cp. 154. Pliny thought it chiefly the result of _dew_
(cf. mil_dew_, German mehl_thau_), and was not wholly wrong.
Footnote 311:
The masc. is no doubt correct. Ovid, _Fasti_, 4. 907, uses the
feminine Robigo, but is alone among the older writers in doing so: see
Preller-Jordan, ii. 44, note 2.
Footnote 312:
Indigitation is the fixing of the _local action_ of a god to be
invoked, by means of his name, if I understand rightly Reifferscheid’s
view as given by R. Peter in _Myth. Lex._ s. v. Indigitamenta, p. 137.
The priest of the Robigalia was the flamen Quirinalis: Quirinus is one
form of Mars.
Footnote 313:
_de Spectaculis_, 5.
Footnote 314:
Cato, _R. R._ 141; Preller-Jordan, i. 340.
Footnote 315:
Strabo, 613: see Roscher, _Apollo and Mars_, p. 62. Ἐρυσίβη = mildew,
of which ἐρυθίβη is the Rhodian form.
Footnote 316:
See Mommsen’s ingenious explanation in _C. I. L._ 316.
Footnote 317:
_Fasti_, 4. 901 foll. The victims had been slain at Rome and in the
morning; and were offered at the grove later in the day (see Marq.
184).
Footnote 318:
Villis mantele solutis (cp. Serv. _Aen._ 12. 169).
Footnote 319:
_R. R._ 141.
Footnote 320:
So we may perhaps translate _quo sidere moto_: but Ovid certainly
thought the star rose (cf. 904). Hartmann explains Ovid’s blunder by
reference to Serv. _Georg._ 1. 218 (_Röm. Kal._ 193). See also H.
Peter, ad loc.
Footnote 321:
Mannhardt, _Myth. Forsch._ 107 foll.
Footnote 322:
Festus, 285; Paul, 45. It was outside the Porta Catularia, of which,
unluckily, nothing is known.
Footnote 323:
_N. H._ 18. 14 ‘Ita est in commentariis pontificum: Augurio canario
agendo dies constituantur priusquam frumenta vaginis exeant et
antequam in vaginas perveniant.’ For ‘_et_ antequam’ we should perhaps
read ‘_nec_ antequam.’ The _vagina_ is the sheath which protects the
ear and from which it eventually protrudes; and it seems that in this
stage, which in Italy would occur at the end of April or beginning of
May, the corn is peculiarly liable to ‘rust.’ (So Virg. _Georg._ 1.
151 ‘Ut mala _culmos_ Esset robigo’: i. e. the stalks including the
_vagina_.) See Hugh Macmillan, op. cit. p. 121.
Footnote 324:
_Myth. Forsch._ 106. Mr. Frazer (_G. B._ ii. 59: cp. i. 306) takes the
other view of this and similar sacrifices, but with some hesitation.
Footnote 325:
It must be confessed that the occurrence of red colour in victims
cannot well be always explained in this way; e. g. the red heifer of
the Israelites (Numbers xix), and the red oxen of the Egyptians (Plut.
_Isis and Osiris_, 31). But in this rite, occurring so close to the
Cerialia, where, as we have seen, _foxes_ were turned out in the
_circus maximus_, the colour of the puppies must have had some meaning
in relation to the growing crops.
Footnote 326:
‘Ludi cursoribus maioribus minoribusque.’ What these were is not
known: Mommsen, _C. I. L._ 317.
Footnote 327:
Usener, _Religionsgeschichte_, i. 298 foll.
Footnote 328:
See Introduction, p. 15.
Footnote 329:
Plin. _N. H._ 18. 286; two years earlier, according to Velleius, 1.
14. This is, I think, the only case in which a deity taken in hand by
the _decemviri sacris faciundis_ cannot be traced to a Greek origin;
but the characteristics of Flora are so like those of Venus that in
the former, as in the latter, Aphrodite may be concealed. The games as
eventually organized had points in common with the cult of Aphrodite
at Hierapolis (Lucian, _Dea Syr._ 49; Farnell, _Cults_, ii. 643); and
it is worth noting that their date (173 B.C.) is subsequent to the
Syrian war. Up to that time the games were not regular or annual
(Ovid, _Fasti_, 5. 295).
Footnote 330:
Tac. _Ann._ 2. 49; Aust, p. 17.
Footnote 331:
Plebis ad aediles: Ovid, ib. v. 287; Festus, 238, probably in error,
calls the Publicii _curule_ aediles.
Footnote 332:
Ovid, ib. 5.277 foll., in which he draws a picture of the misdoings of
the landholders. Cp. Liv. 33. 42, for the temple of Faunus _in
insula_, founded by the same means.
Footnote 333:
Ovid, ib. 5. 352.
Footnote 334:
Steuding in _Myth. Lex._ s. v. Flora. There was a Sabine month
Flusalis (Momms. _Chron._ 219) = Floralis, and answering to July.
Varro considered Flora a Sabine deity (_L. L._ 5. 74).
Footnote 335:
Varro, _L. L._ 7. 45. Flora had an ancient temple _in colle_, near the
so-called Capitolium vetus (Steuding, l. c.), i. e. in the ‘Sabine
quarter.’
Footnote 336:
Henzen, _Acta Fratr. Arv._ 146.
Footnote 337:
Ov. 5. 331 foll ‘Volt sua plebeio sacra patere choro.’
Footnote 338:
Val. Max. 2. 10. 8. Steuding in _Myth. Lex._ has oddly misunderstood
this passage, making Val. Max. write of this custom as an ancient one,
whereas he clearly implies the opposite. It was no doubt the relic of
some rude country practice, degenerated under the influence of city
life.
Footnote 339:
Lactantius, _De falsa religione_, i. 20.
Footnote 340:
Aug. _Civ. Dei_, ii. 27.
Footnote 341:
Friedländer on Martial, 8. 67. 4.
Footnote 342:
H. Peter takes this to mean that they were let loose from a net and
hunted into it again. See note ad loc. 5. 371.
Footnote 343:
See above, p. 77.
Footnote 344:
_Sat_. 5. 177:
Vigila et cicer ingere large
Rixanti populo, nostra ut Floralia possint
Aprici meminisse senes.—Cp. Hor. _Sat._ 2. 3. 182.
Footnote 345:
Friedländer, _Sittengeschichte_, ii. 286; and his note on Martial, 8.
78.
Footnote 346:
_Kind. u. Korn._ 351 foll.
Footnote 347:
Another point that may strike the reader of Ovid is the wearing of
parti-coloured dress on these days (5. 355: cp. Martial, 5. 23)—
Cur tamen ut dantur vestes Cerialibus albae,
Sic haec est cultu versicolore decens?
Flora answers him doubtfully. Was this a practice of comparatively
late date? See Friedländer, _Sittengeschichte_ ii. 275.
Footnote 348:
Mommsen in _C. I. L._ vi. p. 455 (Tabula fer. Lat.). The day was March
15 from B.C. 222 to 153; in earlier times it had been frequently
changed. See Mommsen. _Chron._ p. 80 foll.
Footnote 349:
On this office and its connexion with the _feriae_ see Vigneaux,
_Essai sur l’histoire de la praefectura urbis_, p. 37 foll.
Footnote 350:
Plin. _H. N._ 3. 69; Dionys. 4. 49. The difficult questions arising
out of the numbers given by these authorities are discussed by Beloch,
_Italischer Bund_, 178 foll., and Mommsen in _Hermes_, vol. xvii. 42
foll.
Footnote 351:
Aust, in _Myth. Lex._ s. v. Iuppiter, p. 689.
Footnote 352:
_C. I. L._ vi. 2021.
Footnote 353:
Condensed from the account given by Aust, l. c. See also
Preller-Jordan, i. 210 foll. The chief authority is Dionys. 4. 49.
Footnote 354:
e. g. Liv. 32. 1, 37. 3, in which cases some one city had not received
its portion. The result was an _instauratio feriarum_.
Footnote 355:
See below, p. 294 (Feriae Sementivae). The meaning of the _oscilla_
was not really known to the later Romans, who freely indulged in
conjectures about them. Macrob. 1. 7. 34; Serv. _Georg._ 2. 389; Paul.
121. My own belief is that, like the _bullae_ of children, they were
only one of the many means of averting evil influences.
Footnote 356:
See the passages of Livy quoted above, and add 40. 45 (on account of a
storm); 41. 16 (a failure on the part of Lanuvium).
Footnote 357:
Macrob. 1. 16. 16 ‘Cum Latiar, hoc est Latinarum solemne concipitur,
nefas est proelium sumere: quia nec Latinarum tempore, quo publice
quondam indutiae inter populum Romanum Latinosque firmatae sunt,
inchoari bellum decebat.’
Footnote 358:
See under Sept. 13.
Footnote 359:
For the characteristics and meaning of the common sacrificial meal see
especially Robertson Smith, _Religion of the Semites_, Lect. viii.
Footnote 360:
Helbig, _Die Italiker in der Poebene_, 71.
Footnote 361:
Robertson Smith, op. cit., 278 foll.
Footnote 362:
Cic. _pro Plancio_, 9. 23.
MENSIS MAIUS.
Was the name of this month taken from a deity Maia, or had it originally
only a signification of _growing_ or _increasing_, such as we might
expect in a word derived from the same root as _maior_, _maiestas_, &c.?
The following passage of Macrobius will show how entirely the Roman
scholars were at sea in their answer to this question[363]:
‘Maium Romulus tertium posuit. De cuius nomine inter auctores lata
dissensio est. Nam Fulvius Nobilior in Fastis quos in aede Herculis
Musarum posuit[364] Romulum dicit postquam populum in maiores
iunioresque diuisit, ut altera pars consilio altera armis rem publicam
tueretur, in honorem utriusque partis hunc Maium, sequentem Iunium
mensem uocasse[365]. Sunt qui hunc mensem ad nostros fastos a Tusculanis
transisse commemorent, apud quos nunc quoque uocatur deus Maius, qui est
Iuppiter, a magnitudine scilicet ac maiestate dictus[366]. Cingius[367]
mensem nominatum putat a Maia quam Vulcani dicit uxorem, argumentoque
utitur quod flamen Vulcanalis Kalendis Maiis huic deae rem diuinam
facit. Sed Piso uxorem Vulcani Maiestam non Maiam dicit uocari.
Contendunt alii Maiam Mercurii matrem mensi nomen dedisse, hinc maxime
probantes quod hoc mense mercatores omnes Maiae pariter Mercurioque
sacrificant[368]. Adfirmant quidam, quibus Cornelius Labeo consentit,
hanc Maiam cui mense Maio res diuina celebratur terram esse hoc adeptam
nomen a magnitudine, sicut et Mater Magna in sacris uocatur
adsertionemque aestimationis suae etiam hinc colligunt quod sus
praegnans ei mactatur, quae hostia propria est terrae. Et Mercurium ideo
illi in sacris adiungi dicunt quia uox nascenti homini terrae contactu
datur, scimus autem Mercurium uocis et sermonis potentem. Auctor est
Cornelius Labeo huic Maiae id est terrae aedem Kalendis Maiis dedicatam
sub nomine Bonae Deae et eandem esse Bonam Deam et terram ex ipso ritu
occultiore sacrorum doceri posse confirmat. Hanc eandem Bonam deam
Faunamque et Opem et Fatuam pontificum libris indigitari, &c.’
It is clear from this passage that the Romans themselves were not
agreed, either in the case of May or June, that the name of the month
was derived from a deity. No Roman scholar doubted that Martius was
derived from Mars, the characteristic god of the Roman race; but Maia
was a deity known apparently only to the priests and the learned. Had
she been a popular one, what need could there have been to question so
obvious an etymology? And if she were an obscure one, how could she have
given her name to a month? As a matter of fact March is the only month
of which we can be sure that it was named after a god. Even January is
doubtful, June still more so. The natural assumption about this latter
word would be that it comes from Juno, more especially as we find in
Latium the words Junonius and Junonalis as names of months[369]. But if
Junius came from Juno, it must have come by the dropping out of a
syllable; and this, in the case of a long and accented _o_, would be at
least unlikely to happen[370]. Nor can we discover any sufficient reason
why the month of June should be called after Juno; none at any rate such
as accounts for the connexion of Mars with the initial month of the
year. This is enough to show that the derivation of June from Juno must
be left doubtful; and if so, certainly that of May from Maia. In the
case of this month, not only does the natural meaning of mensis Maius
suit well as following the mensis Aprilis, but there is no cult of a
deity Maia which is found throughout the month.
Any one who reads the passage of Macrobius with some knowledge of the
Roman theological system will hardly fail to conclude that Maia is only
a priestly _indigitation_ of another deity, and that the name thus
invented was simply taken from the name of the month as explained above.
This deity was more generally known, as Macrobius implies, by the name
Bona Dea, and her temple was dedicated on the Kalends of May.
It is difficult to characterize the position of the month of May in the
religious calendar. It was to some extent no doubt a month of
purification. At the _Lemuria_ the house was purified of hostile ghosts;
the curious ceremony of the Argei on the Ides is called by Plutarch the
greatest of the purifications; and at the end of the month took place
the _lustratio_ of the growing crops. We note too that it was considered
ill-omened to marry in May, as it still is in many parts of Europe. The
agricultural operations of the month were not of a marked character.
Much work had indeed to be done in oliveyards and vineyards; some crops
had to be hoed and cleaned, and the hay-harvest probably began in the
latter part of the month. In the main it was a time of somewhat anxious
expectation and preparation for the harvest to follow; and this falls in
fairly well with the general character of its religious rites.
KAL. MAI. (MAY 1.) F.
LAR[IBUS]. (VEN.) L——. (ESQ.)
This was the day on which, according to Ovid[371], an altar and ‘parva
signa’ had been erected to the Lares praestites. They were originally of
great antiquity, but had fallen into decay in Ovid’s time:
Bina gemellorum _quaerebam_ signa deorum,
Viribus annosae facta caduca morae[372].
Ovid himself had apparently not seen the _signa_, though he looked for
them; and no doubt he took from Varro the description he gives. They had
the figure of a dog at their feet[373], and, according to Plutarch, were
clothed in dogs’ skins. Both Ovid and Plutarch explained the dog as
symbolizing their watch over the city; though Plutarch, following, as he
says, certain Romans, preferred to think of them rather as evil demons
searching out and punishing guilt like dogs. The mention of the skins is
very curious, and we can hardly separate it from the numerous other
instances in which the images of deities are known to have been clothed
in the skins of victims sacrificed to them[374]. We may indeed fairly
conclude that the Lares were chthonic deities, and as such were
originally appeased, like Hekate in Greece[375], by the sacrifice of
dogs. We have already had one example of the dog used as a victim[376].
Two others are mentioned by Plutarch[377]; in one case the deity was the
obscure Genita Mana, and in the other the unknown god of the Lupercalia,
both of which belong in all probability to the same stratum of Italian
religious antiquity as the Lares. Whether we should go further, and
infer from the use of the skins that the Lares were originally
worshipped in the form of dogs[378], is a question I must leave
undecided; the evidence is very scanty. There is no trace of any
connexion with the dog in the cult of the Lares domestici[379], or
Compitales.
This is also the traditional day of the dedication of a temple to the
Bona Dea, on the slopes of the Aventine, under a big sacred rock. It is
thus described by Ovid[380]:
Est moles nativa loco. Res nomina fecit:
Appellant Saxum. Pars bona montis ea est.
Huic Remus institerat frustra, quo tempore fratri
Prima Palatinae signa dedistis aves.
Templa Patres illic oculos exosa viriles
Leniter acclivi constituere iugo.
Dedicat haec veteris Clausorum nominis heres,
Virgineo nullum corpore passa virum.
Livia restituit, ne non imitata maritum
Esset et ex omni parte secuta virum.
The allusion to Remus fixes the site on the Aventine. The date is
uncertain[381]; so too the alleged foundation by Claudia, which may be
only a reflection from the story of the part played by a Claudia in the
introduction of the _Magna Mater Idaea_ to Rome[382]. The temple, as
Ovid says, was restored by Livia, in accordance with the policy of her
husband, also at an unknown date.
Of the cult belonging to this temple we have certain traces, which also
help us to some vague conception of the nature of the deity. It should
be observed that though in one essential particular, viz. the exclusion
of men, this cult was similar to that of December, it must have been
quite distinct from it, as the latter took place, not in a temple, but
in the house of a magistrate _cum imperio_[383].
1. The temple was cared for, and the cult celebrated, by women
only[384]. There was an old story that Hercules, when driving the cattle
of Geryon, asked for water by the cave of Cacus of the women celebrating
the festival of the goddess, and was refused, because the women’s
festival was going on, and men were not allowed to use their
drinking-vessels; and that this led to the corresponding exclusion of
women from the worship of Hercules[385]. The myth obviously arose out of
the practice. The exclusion of men points to the earth-nature of the
Bona Dea; the same was the case in the worship of the Athenian Demeter
Thesmophoros. The earth seems always to be spiritualized as feminine
even among savage peoples[386], and the reason of the exclusion of men
is not difficult to conjecture, just as the exclusion of women from the
worship of Hercules is explained by the fact that Hercules represents
the male principle in the ancient Roman religion[387].
2. Macrobius[388] tells us that wine could not be brought into the
temple _suo nomine_, but only under the name of milk, and that the vase
in which it was carried was called _mellarium_, i. e. a vase for honey.
A legend grew up to account for the custom, to which we shall refer
again, that Faunus had beaten his daughter Fauna (i. e. Bona Dea) with a
rod of myrtle because she would not yield to his incestuous love or
drink the wine he pressed on her[389]. This may indicate a survival from
the time when the herdsman used no wine in sacred rites, but milk and
honey only; Pliny tells us of such a time[390], and his evidence is
confirmed by the poets. In any case milk would be the appropriate
offering to the Earth-mother, and it is hard to see why it should have
been changed to wine, unless it were that life in the city and Greek
influence altered the character both of the Bona Dea and her
worshippers. The really rustic deities had milk offered them, e. g.
Silvanus, Pales, and Ceres. The general inference from this survival is
that the Bona Dea was originally of the same nature with these deities,
but lost her rusticity when she became part of an organized city
worship.
3. Myrtle was not allowed in this temple; hence the myth that Faunus
beat his daughter with a myrtle rod[391]. But could the exclusion of
myrtle by itself have suggested the beating? Dr. Mannhardt answers in
the negative, and conjectures that there must have been some kind of
beating in the cult itself, which gave rise to the story[392]. Dr.
Mannhardt never made a conjecture without a large collection of facts on
which to base it; and here he depends upon a number of instances from
Greece and Northern Europe, in which man or woman, or some object such
as the image of a deity, is whipped with rods, nettles, strips of
leather, &c., in order, as it would seem, to produce fertility and drive
away hostile influences. We shall see the same peculiarity occurring at
the Lupercalia in February[393], where its object and meaning are almost
beyond doubt. Many of these practices occur, it is worth noting, on
May-day. If the Bona Dea was a representative in any sense of the
fertility of women, as well as of the fructifying powers of the
earth—and the two ideas seem naturally to have run together in the
primitive mind—we may provisionally accept Dr. Mannhardt’s ingenious
suggestion. If it be objected that as myrtle was excluded from the cult
it could not have been used therein for the purpose of whipping, the
answer is simply that as being invested with some mysterious power it
was tabooed from ordinary use, but, like certain kinds of victims, was
introduced on special and momentous occasions.
4. The temple was a kind of _herbarium_ in which herbs were kept with
healing properties[394]. A group of interesting inscriptions shows that
the Bona Dea did not confine her healing powers to cases of women, but
cured the ailments of both sexes[395]. This attribute of the goddess is
borne out by the presence of snakes in her temple, the usual symbol of
the medicinal art, and at the same time appropriate to the Bona Dea as
an Earth-goddess[396]. It is possible that this feature is a Greek
importation; but on the whole I see no reason why the female ministrants
of the temple should not have exercised such healing powers, or have
sold or given herbs at request, even at a very early period. No doubt
Greek medicinal learning became associated with it, but that the
knowledge of simples was indigenous in Italy we have abundant
proof[397]; and that it should have been connected with no cult of a
deity until Aesculapius was introduced from Greece, is most improbable.
5. The sacrifice mentioned is that of a _porca_[398]. The pig is also
the victim in the worship of Ceres, of Juno Lucina[399] (as alternative
for a lamb), and as a piacular sacrifice in the ritual of the deity of
the Fratres Arvales (Dea Dia); it seems in fact, as in Greece, to be
appropriate to deities of the earth and of women. There is no reason to
suppose that wherever it is found it had a Greek origin; even in the
cult of Ceres, which, as we saw, became early overlaid with Greek
practice[400], the pig may have been the victim before that change took
place. But it is a singular fact that in the worship of the Bona Dea,
either at the temple of the Aventine, or in the December rite—more
probably perhaps in the latter—the victim was called by a name which
looks suspiciously Greek, viz. _Damium_[401]. It seems that there was a
deity Damia who was worshipped here and there in Greece, and also in
Southern Italy, e. g. at Tarentum, where she had a festival called
Dameia[402]. It looks as if this Greek deity had at one time migrated
from Tarentum to Rome, and become engrafted upon the indigenous Bona
Dea; for we are expressly told that Damia was identical with the Bona
Dea, and that the priestess of the latter was called _Damiatrix_[403].
Much has been written about these very obscure names, without any very
definite result; but it seems to be generally agreed that the form of
the word _damiatrix_ indicates a high antiquity for the Graecized form
of the cult, and may indeed possibly suggest an Italian origin for the
whole group of names. In this uncertainty conjectures are almost
useless.
We have seen enough of the cult to gain some idea of the nature of this
mysterious deity, whose real name was not known, even if she had
one[404]. We need not identify her with Vesta, as some have done[405],
nor with Juno Lucina, nor with any other female deity of the class to
which she seems to have belonged. She must at one time have been,
whatever she afterwards became, a protective deity of the female sex,
the Earth-mother[406], a kindly and helpful, but shy and unknowable
deity of fertility. The name Bona Dea is probably to be regarded as one
indigitation of the Earth-spirit known by a variety of other names and
appearing in a number of different phases. There is indeed a remarkable
indefiniteness about the Italian female deities of this class; they
never gained what we may call complete specific distinctness, but are
rather half-formed species developed from a common type. They form, in
fact, an excellent illustration of the nature of that earliest stratum
of Roman religious belief which has been called pandaemonism—a belief in
a world of spiritual powers not yet grown into the forms of individual
deities, but ready at any moment, under influences either native or
foreign, to take a more definite shape.
VII. ID. MAI. (MAY 9). N.
LEM[VRIA]. (VEN. MAFF.)
V. ID. MAI. (MAY 11). N.
LEM[VRIA]. (TUSC. VEN. MAFF.)
III. ID. MAI. (MAY 13). N.
LEM[VRIA]. (TUSC. VEN. MAFF.)
The word Lemuria indicates clearly enough some kind of worship of the
dead; but we know of no such _public_ cult on these three days except
from the calendars. What Ovid describes as taking place at this time is
a private and domestic rite performed by the head of the household[407];
and Ovid is our only informant in regard to details. In historical times
the public festival of the dead was that of the _dies parentales_ in
February, ending with the Feralia on the 21st. How, then, is it that the
three days of the Lemuria appear in those large letters in the ancient
calendars, which, as we have seen[408], indicate the public festivals of
the religious system of the Republic? There is no certain answer to this
question. We can but guess that the Lemuria was at one time, like the
Feralia, a public festival, but descended from a more ancient deposit of
superstition which in historical times was buried deep beneath the
civilization of a developed city life[409]. Ovid himself implies that
the Lemuria was an older festival than the Feralia[410], and we may
suppose him to be following Varro as a guide. And if we compare his
account of the grotesque domestic rites of the Lemuria with those of
February, which were of a systematic, cheerful, and even beautiful
character, we may feel fairly sure that the latter represents the
organized life of a city state, the former the ideas of an age when life
was wilder and less secure, and the fear of the dead and of demons
generally was a powerful factor in the minds of the people. If we may
argue from Ovid’s account, to be described directly, it is not
impossible that the Lemuria may have been one of those periodical
expulsions of demons of which Mr. Frazer has told us so much in his
_Golden Bough_[411], and which are performed on behalf of the community
as well as in the domestic circle amongst savage peoples. It is
noticeable that the offering of food to the demons is a feature common
to these practices, and that it also appears in those described by Ovid.
The difference of character in the two Roman festivals of the dead is
perhaps also indicated by the fact that the days of the Lemuria are
marked in the calendars with the letter N, while the Feralia is marked F
or FP[412]. This may perhaps point to two different views of the
attitude of the dead to the living, affecting the character of the
festival days; they are friendly or hostile, as they have been buried
with due rites and carefully looked after, or as they have failed of
these dues and are consequently angry and jealous[413]. The latter of
these attitudes is more in keeping with the notions of uncivilized man,
and of a life not as yet wholly brought under the influence of the
civilization of the city-state. To be more certain, however, on this
point, we must try and discover the real meaning of the word _lemur_.
The definition given by Porphyrio is ‘Umbras vagantes hominum ante diem
mortuorum atque ideo metuendas[414].’ Nonius has the following: ‘Lemures
larvae nocturnae et terrificationes imaginum et bestiarum[415].’ From
these passages it would seem that _lemures_ and _larvae_ mean much the
same thing; on the other hand Appuleius[416] implies that _lemures_ is a
general word for spirits after they have left the body, while those that
haunt houses are especially called _larvae_. But on a question of this
kind, the philosophical and uncritical Appuleius is not to be weighed as
an authority against either Nonius or Porphyrio, who may quite possibly
be here representing the learning of the Augustan age; and a perusal of
the whole of his passage will show that he is simply trying to classify
ghosts by the light of his own imagination. Judging from the hints of
the two other scholars, we may perhaps conclude that _lemures_ and
_larvae_ are to be distinguished as hostile ghosts from _manes_, the
good people (as the word is generally explained), i. e. those duly
buried in the city of the dead, and whom their living descendants have
no need to fear so long as they pay them their due rites at the proper
seasons as members of the family. And this conclusion is confirmed by
the curious etymology of Ovid[417], reproduced by Porphyrio, deriving
Lemuria from Remus. whose violent death was supposed to have been
expiated by the institution of the festival. The difficulty is to see
why, if the _lemures_ were unburied, evil, or hostile spirits, a special
festival of three days should have been necessary to appease or quiet
them; and I can only account for this by supposing that such spirits
were especially numerous in an age of uncivilized life and constant war
and violence, and that they formed a large part of the whole world of
evil demons whose expulsion was periodically demanded. It may have been
the case that at this particular time in May, when the days were
_nefasti_ and marriages were ill-omened, these spirits became
particularly restless and needed to be laid.
Such an explanation as this of the Lemuria is on the whole preferable to
that which would regard it as the original Roman festival of _all_ the
dead; for there is now abundant evidence that even in the earliest ages
of Italian life the practice of orderly burial in necropoleis was
universal[418], and this is a practice that seems inconsistent with a
general belief in the dead as hostile and haunting spirits.
The following is Ovid’s description of the way in which the ghosts were
laid at the Lemuria by the father of a family. At midnight he rises, and
with bare feet[419] and washed hands, making a peculiar sign with his
fingers and thumbs to keep off the ghosts, he walks through the house.
He has black beans in his mouth, and these he spits out as he walks,
looking the other way, and saying, ‘With these I redeem me and mine.’
Nine times he says this without looking round; then come the ghosts
behind him, and gather up the beans unseen. He proceeds to wash again
and to make a noise with brass vessels; and after nine times repeating
the formula ‘manes[420] exite paterni,’ he at last looks round, and the
ceremony is over.
The only point in this quaint bit of ritual which need detain us is the
use of beans. We have had bean-straw used at the Parilia, and we shall
find that beans were also used at the festival of the dead in February.
Assuredly it is not easy to see what could have made them into such
valuable ‘medicine.’ Beans were not a newly discovered vegetable. Their
exclusion from the rites of Demeter must have been of great antiquity,
and the notions of the Pythagoreans about them were probably based on
very ancient popular superstitions[421]. No one, as far as I know, has
as yet successfully solved the problem why beans had so strange a
religious character about them[422]; they probably were an ancient
symbol of fertility, but it is impossible now to discover how or why the
ideas grouped themselves around them, which we so constantly find both
in Greece and Italy. If we ask why the ghosts picked them up, or were
supposed to do so, there is some reason for believing that by eating
them they might possibly hope to get a new lease of life[423]. Whatever
was the real basis of the superstition, it was a widely spread one, and
ramified in more than one direction; the Roman priest of Jupiter, for
example, might not touch beans nor even mention them[424]. In his case
the taboo was no doubt very old, but might have grown out of some such
practice as that just described, all things ill-omened and mysterious
being carefully kept out of his reach.
The days from May 7 to 14 were occupied by the Vestal Virgins in
preparing the _mola salsa_, or sacred salt-cake, for use at the Vestalia
in June, on the Ides of September, and at the Lupercalia[425]. This was
made from the first ears of standing corn in a primitive fashion by the
three senior Vestals, and is no doubt, like most of their ritual, a
relic of the domestic functions of the daughters of the family. But we
must postpone further consideration of the Vestals and their duties till
we come to the Vestalia in June.
ID. MAI. (MAY 15). NP.
FER[IAE] IOVI. MERCUR[IO] MAIAE. (VENUS[426].)
MAIAE AD CIRC[UM] M[AXIMUM]. (CAER.) MERC[URIO]. (TUSC.)
The very curious rite which took place on this day is not mentioned in
the calendars; it belonged to those which, like the Paganalia, were
_publica_ indeed and _pro populo_, but represented the people as divided
in certain groups rather than the State as a whole[427]. But its obvious
antiquity, and the interesting questions which arise out of it, tempt me
to treat it in detail, at the risk of becoming tedious.
I have already mentioned[428] that there was a procession in March, as
we infer from the _sacra Argeorum_ quoted by Varro, which went round the
_sacella Argeorum_, or twenty-four chapels situated in the four Servian
regions of the city[429]. What was done at these _sacella_ we do not
know; the procession and its doings had become so obscure in Ovid’s time
that he could dispose of it in two lines of his _Fasti_, and express a
doubt as to whether it took place on one day or two[430]. Nor do we know
what the _sacella_ really were. The best conjecture is that of Jordan,
who has brought some evidence together to show that they were small
chapels or sacred places where holy things were deposited until the time
came round for them to be used in some religious ceremony[431].
But on May 15 there was another rite in which the word _Argei_ plays a
prominent part; and here the details have in part at least survived. The
_Argei_ in this case are not chapels, but a number of puppets or bundles
of rushes, resembling (as Dionysius has recorded) men bound hand and
foot, which were taken down to the _pons sublicius_ by the Pontifices
and magistrates, and cast into the river by the Vestal Virgins[432]. The
Flaminica Dialis, the priestess of Jupiter, was present at the ceremony
in mourning. The number of the puppets was probably the same as that of
the _sacella_ of the same name[433].
Explanations of these rites were invented by Roman scholars. The
_sacella_ were the graves of Greeks who had come to Italy with Hercules;
and the puppets represented the followers of Hercules who had died on
their journey and were to return home as it were by proxy[434]. Apart
from the theories of the learned, it was the fact that the common people
at Rome believed the puppets to be substitutes for old men, who at one
time used to be thrown into the Tiber as victims. _Sexagenarios de
ponte_ was a well-known proverb which in Cicero’s time was explained by
supposing that the bridges alluded to were those over which the voters
passed in the Comitia[435]; but this view may at once be put aside.
Those bridges were certainly a comparatively late invention, while the
proverb was of remote antiquity.
But, given the details of the rite, and the popular belief about the old
men as victims, what explanation can we hope to arrive at? We may freely
admit that no satisfactory etymology of the word _Argei_ is forthcoming;
but this is perhaps, in a negative sense, an advantage to our
inquiry[436]. The Romans derived it from the Greek Ἀργεῖοι; and to this
etymology Mommsen is now disposed to return. The writer of the article
‘Argei’ in the _Mythological Lexicon_ derived it from _varka-s_ =
‘wolf’; others have believed it to come from a root _arg_ = ‘white’ or
‘shining,’ and though the termination _eus_ is hardly a Latin one, it
may be that this is the true basis of the word[437].
Instead of prejudging the case by fanciful etymologies, or by attempting
to decide the question whether the Romans ever practised the rites of
human sacrifice, we will take the leading features of the ceremony, and
see in what direction they may on the whole direct us. That done, it may
be possible to sum up the debate, though a final and decisive verdict is
not to be expected.
The features which demand attention are (1) the processional character
of the rites; (2) the presence of the Pontifices and the Vestals; (3)
the mourning of the Flaminica Dialis; (4) the rush-puppets and their
immersion in the Tiber.
1. We can hardly doubt that there was a procession to the _pons
sublicius_, though the fact is not expressly stated. We are tempted to
believe that it visited each _sacellum_, and there found, or possibly
made, the puppet (_simulacrum_), which thus represented the district of
which the _sacellum_ was the sacred centre; and that it then proceeded,
bearing the puppets, probably by the Forum and Vicus Tuscus to the
bridge[438]. Now if this feature can help us at all—if we accept the
connexion of the March and May ceremonies and their processional
character—it must point in the direction of the purification of land or
city, on the analogy of other Italian ceremonies of the same kind. At
the end of this month took place the Ambarvalia, when the priests went
round the land with prayer and sacrifice to ensure the good growth of
the crops; and we have a remarkable instance of the same kind of
practice in the celebrated inscription of Iguvium. Not only each city,
but each _pagus_, and even each farmer, duly purified his land in some
such way, cleansing it from the powers of evil and sterility, while at
the same time the boundaries were renewed in the memories of all
concerned. Bearing this in mind, and also the season of the year, we may
fairly guess that the Argean processions had some relation to
agriculture, and to the welfare of the precarious stock of wealth of an
agricultural community.
2. _The presence of the Pontifices and Vestals._—The former would be
present, partly as the representative sacred college of the united
city[439], partly as having under their special care the sacred bridge
from which the puppets were thrown. Whether or not the word _pontifex_
be directly derived from _pons_[440], it is certain that the ancient
bridge, with its strong religious associations, was under their care,
and that the river was an object of their constant liturgical
attention[441]. It has been suggested that the whole ceremony was one of
bridge-worship[442]; but this view, as we shall see, will hardly explain
all the facts. It leaves the March rites unexplained, and also the
presence of the Vestals; nor does it seem to suit the season of the
year.
The presence of the Vestals is more significant; and it was they, as it
seems, who performed the act of throwing the puppets from the
bridge[443]. In all the public duties performed by them (as we shall see
more fully in dealing with the Vestalia[444]) a reference can be traced
to one leading idea, viz. that the food and nourishment of the State, of
which the sacred fire was the symbol, depended for its maintenance on
the accurate performance of these duties. We have just seen that they
spent the seven days preceding the Ides of May in preparing their sacred
cakes from the first ripening ears of corn. We shall see them using
these cakes in June, September, and at the Lupercalia. At the Parilia
and the Fordicidia they also take a prominent part, both of them
festivals relating to the fruitfulness of herds and flocks; so also at
the harvest festivals in August of Ops Consiva and Consus. And we can
hardly suppose that their presence at the rite under discussion should
have a different significance from that of their public service on all
other occasions. Even if we had no other evidence to go upon, we might
on the facts just adduced base a fair inference that this ceremony too
had some relation to the processes and perils awaiting the ripening
crops.
3. The Flaminica Dialis had on this day to lay aside her usual bridal
dress, and to appear in mourning[445]. The same rule was laid down for
her during the ‘moving’ of the _ancilia_ in March, and during the
Vestalia up to the completion of the purification of the temple of
Vesta. It is not easy to see what the meaning of this rule may have
been. On the other two occasions there is nothing to lead us to suppose
that it was some such terrible rite as human sacrifice which caused the
change of costume; we need not therefore suppose that it was so on May
15. But if all three occasions are times of purification and the
averting of evil influences: if they each mark the conclusion of an old
season, and the necessity of great care in entering on a new one, we can
better understand it. This was the case, as we saw, when in March the
Salii were pervading the city, and it was so also at the Vestalia, which
was preparatory to the ingathering of the crops. Some such critical
moment, I think, the day we are discussing must also have been. Some
light may be thrown on this aspect of the question by practices which
have been collected by Dr. Mannhardt from Northern Europe[446], some of
which still survive. I will give a single instance from Russia. At Murom
on June 29 a figure of straw, dressed in female clothing, is laid on a
bier and carried to the edge of a lake or river; it is eventually torn
up and thrown into the river, while the spectators hide their faces and
behave as though they bewailed the death of Kostroma. In another
district on the same day an old man carried out of the town a puppet
representing the spring, and was followed by the _women_ singing
mournful songs and expressing by their gestures grief and despair.
4. _The Puppets and their immersion in the Tiber._—There are two
possible explanations of this curious practice.
(1) The puppets were substitutes for human victims, and probably for old
men. The evidence for this view is—first, the Roman tradition expressed
in the saying _sexagenarios de ponte_[447], and supported by the fact
that the puppets appeared, to Dionysius at least, like men bound hand
and foot[448]; secondly, the fact that human sacrifice was not entirely
unknown at Rome, though there is no trace of any such custom regularly
recurring. We may allow that Italy could not have been entirely free
from a practice which existed even in Greece, and also that the habit of
substituting some object for the original victim is common and well
attested in religious history; but whether either the Argei, or the
_oscilla_ or _maniae_, which are often compared with the Argei, really
had this origin, may well indeed be doubted[449]. Thirdly, there is
evidence that not only human sacrifice, but the sacrifice of old men,
was by no means unknown in primitive times. Passing over the general
evidence as to human sacrifice, we know that the old and weak were
sometimes put to death[450]. Being of no further use in the struggle for
existence, they were got rid of in various ways—an act perhaps not so
much of cruelty as of kindness, and under certain circumstances not
incompatible with filial piety[451]. The chief objections to this
explanation are—first, that it obliges us to ascribe to the early Romans
a habit which seems quite incompatible with their well-known respect for
old age and their horror of parricide; secondly, that it does not
explain why a practice, which can hardly have ever been a regularly
recurring one, should have passed into a yearly ceremony[452].
(2) The rite was of a dramatic rather than a sacrificial character[453],
and belongs to a class of which we have numerous examples both from
Greek, Teutonic, and Slavonic peoples. In Greece, or rather in Egypt, we
have the cult of Adonis, in which a puppet is immersed in the water amid
wailings and lamentations. In Greece proper semi-dramatic rites are
found at Chaeronea and Athens[454], though somewhat different in
character to those of the Argei and Adonis. Tacitus describes the
immersion in water of the image of the German goddess Nerthus[455]. But
most significant are the many examples, of which Mannhardt formed an
ample collection, in which puppets are found, made as a rule of straw,
carried along in procession and thrown into a river or water of some
kind, often from a bridge[456]. Sometimes the place of these puppets is
taken by a sheaf, a small tree, or a man or boy dressed up in foliage or
fastened in the sheaf[457]: but in almost all cases the object is ducked
in water or at least sprinkled with it, though now and then it is burnt
or buried. The best known example is that of the Bavarian ‘Wasservogel,’
which is either a boy or a puppet, as the custom may be in different
places; he or it was decorated, carried round the fields at
Whitsuntide[458], and thrown from the bridge into the stream. So
constant and inconvenient was this kind of custom in the Middle Ages
that a law of 1351, still extant, forbade the ducking of people at
Erfurt in the water at Easter and Whitsuntide[459]. In many of these
cases the _simulacrum_ may have been substituted for a human being[460];
but I find none where the notion of sacrifice survived, or where there
was any trace of a popular belief that the object was a substitute for
an actual victim. What these curious customs, according to Dr.
Mannhardt, do really represent, is the departure of winter and the
arrival of the fruitful season, or possibly the exhaustion of the vernal
Power of vegetation after its work is done[461].
Two features in these old customs may strike us as interesting in
connexion with the Argei—(1) The fact that the central object is often
either actually _an old man_, or is at least called ‘the old one.’ A
Whitsuntide custom at Halle shows us, for example, a straw puppet called
_Der alte_[462]. (2) The constant occurrence of white objects in these
customs; the puppet is called ‘the white man with the white hair, the
snow-white husband,’ or is dressed in a white shirt[463]. In these
expressions it is perhaps not impossible that we may find a clue to the
long-lost meaning of the word Argei. Can it be that the Roman puppets
were originally called ‘the white ones,’ i. e. old ones, from a root
_arg_ = ‘white’[464]; and that from a natural mistake as to the meaning
of the word there arose not only the story about the Greek victims but
also the common belief about sexagenarii being thrown over the bridge?
* * * * *
We have to choose between the two explanations given above. I am, on the
whole, disposed to agree with Dr. Mannhardt, and in the absence of
convincing evidence as to the regular and periodical occurrence of human
sacrifice in ancient Italy, to regard these strange survivals as
semi-dramatic performances rather than sacrificial rites. This view,
however, need not exclude the possibility of the union of both drama and
sacrifice at a very remote period, probably before the Latins settled in
the district.
The immersion in water, whether or no it involved the death of a victim,
is reasonably explained, on the basis of comparative evidence, to have
been a _rain-spell_[465]. In the cases already mentioned of Adonis,
Nerthus, &c., this idea seems the prominent one. I am inclined to think,
however, that the notion of purification was also present—the two
uniting in the idea of regeneration. Plutarch calls the Argean rite ‘the
greatest of the purifications,’ and he is here most probably reproducing
the opinion of Varro[466]. This is indicated by the presence of the
priests and the Vestals, by the processions, and by the mourning of the
Flaminica Dialis, as we have already seen. We may regard the rite as in
fact a casting out of old things, and in that sense a purification; and
also at the same time as a spell or earnest of rain and fertility in the
ensuing year. The puppets were perhaps hung in the sacella in the course
of the procession in March, as a symbol of the fertility then beginning,
and cast into the river as ‘the old ones’ when that fertility had
reached its height[467].
In the last place, it might be asked in honour of what deity the rite
was performed. It is hardly necessary, and certainly is not possible, to
answer a question about which the Romans themselves were not agreed.
Ovid and Dionysius[468] believed it was Saturnus, probably following an
old Greek oracle which was known to Varro[469]. Verrius Flaccus thought
it was Dis Pater[470]. Modern writers have concluded on the general
evidence of the rite that it was the river-god Tiberinus; Jordan,
however, regarded the question as irrelevant[471]. We may agree with
him, and at least return a verdict of _non liquet_. If it was a
sacrificial act, the ancient river-god is indeed likely enough; if it
was a quasi-dramatic one, it does not follow that any deity was
specially concerned in it. But we may go so far as to guess that it was
connected with the worship of those vaguely-conceived deities of
vegetation whose influence on the calendar we have been tracing since
March 1.
This same day is marked in one calendar as Feriae Iovi, Mercurio, Maiae.
The conjunction of these deities is to some extent accidental. In the
first place the Ides of every month were sacred to Jupiter; and the
addition of Mercurius is probably to be explained simply by the
adaptation of a Greek myth which made Hermes the son of Jupiter,
suggesting the selection of the Ides as an appropriate day for the cult
of the Latin representative of Hermes[472]. Mercurius, again, was
associated with Maia, perhaps simply because the dedication-day of his
oldest temple in Rome (_ad circum maximum_) was the Ides of the Mensis
Maius[473]. The Roman Mercurius was considered especially as the god of
trade, and dated, like Ceres, from the time when an extensive corn trade
first began in Rome[474]. It is highly probable that the Tarquinian
dynasty had encouraged Roman trade, and that the increase of population
which was the result, together with the wars which followed their
expulsion, had occasioned a series of severe famines. To this we trace
the Roman knowledge of the Greek or Graeco-Etruscan Hermes, through a
trade in corn with Sicilian Greeks or Etruscans, and the appearance of
the god at Rome as Mercurius, the god of trade. His first temple was
dedicated in B.C. 495, and as in other cases, the dedication was
celebrated each year by those specially interested in the worship, in
this case the _mercatores_, who were already, at this early period,
formed into an organized guild[475].
XII KAL. IUN. (MAY 21). NP.
AGON[IA][476]. (ESQ. CAER. VEN. MAFF.)
VEDIOVI. (VEN.)
The other days sacred to Vediovis were January 1 and the Nones of March,
from which latter day we postponed the consideration of this mysterious
deity, in hopes of future enlightenment. But Vediovis is wrapped still,
and always will be, in at least as profound an obscurity for us as he
was for Varro and Ovid.
We have but his name to go upon, and two or three indistinct traces of
his cult. The name seems certainly to be Vediovis, i. e. apparently ‘the
opposite of,’ or ‘separated from,’ Jupiter (= Diovis); or, as Preller
has it[477], comparing, like Ovid, _vegrandia farra_ (‘corn that has
grown badly’), _vescus_, &c., Jupiter in a sinister sense. But this last
explanation must, on the whole, be rejected. It is true that each deity
has a sinister or threatening aspect as well as a smiling one; but in no
other case was this separately personified, and the name, if its origin
be rightly given as above (which is not indeed certain), might be
explained by the well-known Roman habit of calling deities by their
qualities and their business rather than by substantival names. In this
case the name would be negatively deduced from that of one of the few
gods who really had a name.
What we know of the cult is only this. First, it was peculiar, so far as
we know, to Rome and Bovillae[478]; secondly, the temples in Rome were
in the space between the arx and Capitolium, ‘inter duos lucos’[479],
and another in the Tiber island[480]—two places outside the Servian
wall, and of importance for the security of the city; thirdly, the god
was represented as young, holding arrows, and having a goat standing
beside him, on account of which characteristics he was usually,
according to Gellius, identified with Apollo[481]; fourthly, the usual
victim was a goat which was sacrificed _humano ritu_[482].
On such faint traces it will be obvious that no sound conclusion can be
based. The connexion with Bovillae and the gens Julia points to a
genuine Latin origin. The sites on the Capitol and the island do not
lead to any definite conclusion; in the former the god seems to have
been connected with the so-called Asylum, in the latter with
Aesculapius; but both these connexions may be accidental or later
developments. Preller conjectured cleverly that Vediovis was a god of
criminals who might take refuge in Rome and there find purification; but
the idea of an Asylum, on which this is based, is Greek, and of much
later date than any age which could have given a definite meaning to
such a deity. We must here, as occasionally elsewhere, give up the
attempt to discover the original nature of this god.
X KAL. IUN. (MAY 23). NP.
TUBIL[USTRIUM]. (ESQ. CAER. VEN. MAFF.)
FER[IAE] VOLCANO. (VEN. AMIT.)
I have already explained[483] the view taken by Mommsen of the two pairs
of days, March 23 and 24 and May 23 and 24, accepting his theory that
the 24th in each month was the day on which wills could be made and
witnessed in the Comitia calata, and that the 23rd in each month was the
day on which the _tubae_ were lustrated by which the assembly was
summoned.
But May 23 is also marked in two calendars as _feriae Volcano_; and Ovid
has noticed this in a single couplet:[484]
Proxima Volcani lux est: Tubilustria dicunt;
Lustrantur purae, quas facit ille, tubae.
The difficult question of the original character of Volcanus must be
postponed until we come to his festival in August. We only need here to
ask whether Ovid was right in regarding Volcanus as the smith who made
the trumpets. This has been strenuously denied by Wissowa[485], who goes
so far as to believe that the deity originally invoked on this day was
not Volcanus but Mars—since the corresponding day in March was a
festival of that deity—and that Volcanus was at an early period thrust
into his place under the influence of Greek notions of Hephaestus as a
smith who made armour and also trumpets. Wissowa has, however, to throw
over the two calendars quoted above (Ven. Amit.) in order to support his
argument—and so far we are hardly entitled to go.
It is safer to take Volcanus as an ancient Roman deity whose cult was
closely connected with that of Maia, or the Bona Dea, and was prominent
in this month as well as in August. The Flamen Volcanalis sacrificed to
the Bona Dea on May 1; and Maia was addressed in invocations as Maia
Volcani[486]. The coincidence of this festival of his with the
Tubilustrium I take to have been accidental; but it led naturally, as
the Romans became acquainted with Greek mythology, to the erroneous view
represented by Ovid that Volcanus was himself a smith[487].
VIII KAL. IUN. (MAY 25). C.
FORTUNAE P[UBLICAE] P[OPULI] R[OMANI] Q[UIRITIUM] IN COLLE QUIRIN[ALI].
(CAER.)
FORTUN[AE] PUBLIC[AE] P[OPULI] R[OMANI] IN COLL[E]. (ESQ.)
FORTUN[AE] PRIM[IGENIAE] IN COL[LE]. (VEN.)
This was the dedication-day of one of three temples of Fortuna on the
Quirinal; the place was known as ‘tres Fortunae[488].’ The goddess in
this case was Fortuna Primigenia, imported from Praeneste—of whom
something will be said later on[489]. The temple was vowed after the
Second Punic War in B.C. 204, and dedicated ten years later[490]. Our
consideration of Fortuna may be postponed till the festival of Fors
Fortuna, an older Roman form of the cult, on June 24.
KAL. IUN. (MAY 29). C.
The Ambarvalia, originally a religious procession round the land of the
early Roman community, the object of which was to purify the crops from
evil influences, does not appear in the Julian calendars, not being
_feriae stativae_; but it is indicated in the later rustic calendars by
the words, _Segetes lustrantur_. Its date may be taken as May 29[491]:
and this fixity will not appear incompatible with its character as a
_sacrum conceptivum_, if we accept Mommsen’s explanation of the way in
which some feasts might be fixed to a day according to the usage of the
Italian farmer, but of varying date according to the civil
calendar[492].
There has been much discussion whether the Ambarvalia was identical with
the similar festival of the Fratres Arvales. On the ground that the
_acta fratrum Arvalium_ seemed to prove a general similarity of the two
in time and place, and at least in some points of ritual, Mommsen,
Henzen, and Jordan answer in the affirmative[493]. On the other side
there is no authority of any real weight. The judicious Marquardt[494]
found a difficulty in the absence of any mention in the _acta fratrum
Arvalium_ of a lustratio in the form of a procession; but it should be
remembered (1) that we have not the whole of the _acta_; (2) that it is
almost certain that, as the Roman territory continued to increase, the
brethren must have dropped the duty of driving victims round it, for
obvious reasons. A passage in Paulus[495] places the matter beyond doubt
if we can be sure of the reading: ‘_Ambarvales hostiae dicebantur quae
pro arvis a duodecim_ (MSS. duobus) _fratribus sacrificantur._’ As no
_duo fratres_ are known, the old emendation _duodecim_ seems certain,
but will of course not convince those who disbelieve in the identity of
the Ambarvalia and the sacra fratrum Arvalium. The question is, however,
for us of no great importance, as the _acta_ do not add to our knowledge
of what was done at the Ambarvalia.
The best description we have of such lustrations as the Ambarvalia is
that of Virgil; it is not indeed to be taken as an exact description of
the Roman rite, but rather as referring to Italian customs generally:
In primis venerare deos, atque annua magnae
Sacra refer Cereri laetis operatus in herbis,
Extremae sub casum hiemis, iam vere sereno.
Tum pingues agni, et tum mollissima vina;
Tum somni dulces densaeque in montibus umbrae.
Cuncta tibi Cererem pubes agrestis adoret,
Cui tu lacte favos et miti dilue Baccho,
Terque novas circum felix eat hostia fruges,
Omnis quam chorus et socii comitentur ovantes,
Et Cererem clamore vocent in tecta; neque ante
Falcem maturis quisquam supponat aristis,
Quam Cereri torta redimitus tempora quercu
Det motus inconpositos et carmina dicat[496].
It is not clear to what festival or festivals Virgil is alluding in the
first few of these lines[497]; probably to certain rustic rites which
did not exactly correspond to those in the city of Rome. But from line
343 onwards the reference is certainly to Ambarvalia of some kind,
perhaps to the private _lustratio_ of the farmer before harvest began,
of which the Roman festival was a magnified copy. His description
answers closely to the well-known directions of Cato[498]; and if it is
Ceres who appears in Virgil’s lines, and not Mars, the deity most
prominent in Cato’s account, this may be explained by the undoubted
extension of the worship of Ceres, and the corresponding contraction of
that of Mars, as the latter became more and more converted into a god of
war[499].
The leading feature in the original rite was the procession of
victims—bull, sheep, and pig—all round the fields, driven by a garlanded
crowd, carrying olive branches and chanting. These victims represent all
the farmer’s most valuable stock, thus devoted to the appeasing of the
god. The time was that when the crops were ripening, and were in
greatest peril from storms and diseases; before the harvest was begun,
and before the Vestalia took place in the early part of June, which was,
as we shall see, a festival preliminary to harvest. Three times the
procession went round the land; at the end of the third round the
victims were sacrificed, and a solemn prayer was offered in antique
language, which ran, in Cato’s formula of the farmer’s lustration, as
follows: ‘Father Mars, I pray and beseech thee to be willing and
propitious to me, my household, and my slaves; for the which object I
have caused this threefold sacrifice to be driven round my farm and
land. I pray thee keep, avert, and turn from us all disease, seen or
unseen, all desolation, ruin, damage, and unseasonable influence; I pray
thee give increase to the fruits, the corn, the vines, and the
plantations, and bring them to a prosperous issue. Keep also in safety
the shepherds and their flocks, and give good health and vigour to me,
my house, and household. To this end it is, as I have said—namely, for
the purification and making due lustration of my farm, my land
cultivated and uncultivated—that I pray thee to bless this threefold
sacrifice of sucklings. O Father Mars, to this same end I pray thee
bless this threefold sacrifice of sucklings[500].’
Not only in this prayer, but in the ritual that follows, as also in
other religious directions given in the preceding chapters, we may no
doubt see examples of the oldest agricultural type of the genuine
Italian worship. They are simple rustic specimens of the same type as
the elaborate urban ritual of Iguvium, fortunately preserved to us[501];
and we may fairly assume that they stood in much the same relation to
the Roman ritual of the Ambarvalia.
Of all the Roman festivals this is the only one which can be said with
any truth to be still surviving. When the Italian priest leads his flock
round the fields with the ritual of the Litania major in Rogation week
he is doing very much what the Fratres Arvales did in the infancy of
Rome, and with the same object. In other countries, England among them,
the same custom was taken up by the Church, which rightly appreciated
its utility, both spiritual and material; the bounds of the parish were
fixed in the memory of the young, and the wrath of God was averted by an
act of duty from man, cattle, and crops. ‘It was a general custom
formerly, and is still observed in some country parishes, to go round
the bounds and limits of the parish on one of the three days before
Ascension-day; when the Minister, accompanied by his Churchwardens and
Parishioners, was wont to deprecate the vengeance of God, beg a blessing
on the fruits of the earth, and preserve the rights and properties of
the parish[502].’
At Oxford, and it is to be hoped in some other places, this laudable
custom still survives. But the modern clergy, from want of interest in
ritual, except such as is carried on within their churches, or from some
strong distrust of any merry-making not initiated by their own zeal, are
apt to drop the ceremonies; and there is some danger that even in Oxford
the processions and peeled wands may soon be things of the past. To all
such ministers I would recommend the practice of the judicious Hooker,
as described by his biographer, Isaak Walton:
‘He would by no means omit the customary time of procession,
persuading all, both rich and poor, if they desired the preservation
of Love, and their Parish rights and liberties, to accompany him in
his Perambulation—and most did so; in which Perambulation he would
usually express more pleasant Discourse than at other times, and
would then always drop some loving and facetious Observations, to be
remembered against the next year, especially by the Boys and young
people; still inclining them, and all his present Parishioners, to
meekness and mutual Kindnesses and Love.’
At Charlton-on-Otmoor, near Oxford, there was a survival of the ‘agri
lustratio’ until recent years. On the beautiful rood-screen of the
parish church there is a cross, which was carried in procession through
the parish[503], freshly decorated with flowers, on May-day; it was then
restored to its place on the screen, and remained there until the
May-day of the next year. It may still be seen there, but it is no
longer carried round, and its decoration seems to have been transferred
from May-day to the harvest-festival[504].
Footnote 363:
Sat. 1. 12. 16.
Footnote 364:
See above, Introduction, p. 11.
Footnote 365:
So Varro also (_L. L._ 6. 33). But Censorinus (_De die natali_, 20. 2)
expressly ascribes to Varro the derivation from Maia; the great
scholar apparently changed his view.
Footnote 366:
For Iup. Maius see Aust, in _Myth. Lex._ s. v. Iuppiter, p. 650.
Footnote 367:
This was probably not the early historian Cincius Alimentus, but a
contemporary of Augustus, Teuffel, _Hist. of Roman Literature_, sec.
106. For the flamen Volcanalis see on Aug 23.
Footnote 368:
i. e. on the Ides: see below, p. 120. The connexion between Mercurius
and Maia seems to arise simply from the fact that the dedication of
the temple of the former was on the Ides of this month.
Footnote 369:
Ovid, _Fasti_, 6. 59 foll.; Mommsen, _Chron._ 218.
Footnote 370:
The etymology was defended by Roscher in Fleckeisen’s _Jahrbuch_ for
1875, and in his _Iuno und Hera_, p. 105.
Footnote 371:
_Fasti_, 5. 129 foll. For the doubtful reading _Curibus_ in 131 see
Peter, ad loc.; Preller-Jordan, ii. 114.
Footnote 372:
_Fasti_, 5. 143; Plutarch, _Quaest. Rom._ 51.
Footnote 373:
This appears on coins of the gens Caesia: Cohen, _Méd. Cons._ pl.
viii. Wissowa, in _Myth. Lex._, s. v. Lares, gives a cut of the coin,
on which the Lares are represented sitting with a dog between them.
See note at the end of this work (Note B) on the further
interpretation of these coins.
Footnote 374:
See Robertson Smith, _Religion of the Semites_, 414 foll.
Footnote 375:
Farnell, _Cults_, ii. 515. Hekate was certainly a deity of the earth.
Cf. Plut. _Q. R._ 68.
Footnote 376:
See on Robigalia, April 25.
Footnote 377:
_Quaest. Rom._ 52 and 111; cf. _Romulus_ 21.
Footnote 378:
So Jevons, _Roman Questions_, Introduction, xli.
Footnote 379:
De-Marchi, _La Religione nella vita domestica_, 48. Wissowa (_Myth.
Lex._, s. v. Lares, p. 1872) prefers the old interpretation, much as
Plutarch gives it.
Footnote 380:
_Fasti_, 5. 149 foll.
Footnote 381:
Aust, _De Aedibus sacris_, p. 27. It was apparently before 123 B.C.,
when a Vestal Virgin, Licinia, added an _aedicula_, _pulvinar_, and
_ara_ to it (Cic. _de Domo_, 136).
Footnote 382:
Wissowa, in Pauly’s _Real-Encyclopädie_, s. v. Bona Dea, 690. See
above, p. 69.
Footnote 383:
See below, under Dec. 3. There can be hardly a doubt that this
December rite was the one famous for the _sacrilegium_ of Clodius in
62 B.C., though Prof. Beesly rashly assumed the contrary in his essay
on Clodius (_Catiline, Clodius, and Tiberius_, p. 45 note). Plutarch,
_Cic._ 19 and 20; Dio Cass. 37. 35.
Footnote 384:
Ovid, l. c. ‘oculos exosa viriles.’ Cp. _Ars Amat._ 3. 637. On this
and other points in the cult see R. Peter in _Myth. Lex._, and
Wissowa, l. c. The latter seems to refer most of them to the December
rite; but Ovid and Macrobius expressly connect them with the _temple_.
Macr. 1. 12. 25 foll.
Footnote 385:
Propert. 4. 9; Macr. 1. 12. 28.
Footnote 386:
Tylor, _Primitive Culture_, ii. 245 foll.
Footnote 387:
See below, p. 143. _Lex. Myth._ s. v. Hercules, 2258.
Footnote 388:
Macr. l. c. Plutarch also knew of this (_Quaest. Rom._ 20).
Footnote 389:
Otherwise in Lactantius, 1. 22. 11, and Arnob. 5. 18, where Fauna is
said to have been beaten because she drank wine; no doubt a later
version. Lactantius quotes Sext. Clodius, a contemporary of Cicero.
Footnote 390:
_H. N._ 14. 88. See above on feriae Latinae, p. 97. Virg. _Ecl._ 5.
66; _Georg._ 1. 344; _Aen._ 5. 77. In the last passage milk is offered
to the _inferiae_ of Anchises: we may note the similarity of the cult
of Earth-deities and of the dead.
Footnote 391:
Plut. _Q. R._ 20; Macrob. l. c.; Lactant. l. c. The myth has been
explained as Greek (Wissowa, in Pauly, 688), but its peculiar feature,
the whipping, could hardly have become attached to a Roman cult unless
there were something in the cult to attach it to, or unless the cult
itself were borrowed from the Greek. That the latter was the case it
is impossible to prove; and I prefer to believe that both cult and
myth were Roman.
Footnote 392:
_Mythologische Forschungen_, 115 foll. Cp. Frazer, _Golden Bough_, ii.
213 foll.
Footnote 393:
Below, p. 320. See also on July 7 (Nonae Caprotinae).
Footnote 394:
Macrob. l. c. ‘Quidam Medeam putant, quod in aede eius omne genus
herbarum sit ex quibus antistites dant plerumque medicinas.’
Footnote 395:
_C. I. L._ vi. 54 foll.
Footnote 396:
This no doubt gave rise to the myth that Faunus ‘coisse cum filia’ in
the form of a snake. Here again the myth may possibly be Greek, but we
have no right to deny that it may have had a Roman basis. Snakes were
kept in great numbers both in temples and houses in Italy
(Preller-Jordan, i. 87, 385).
Footnote 397:
Plin. _H. N._ 29 _passim_, especially 14, &c., where Cato is quoted as
detesting the new Greek art, and urging his son to stick to the old
simples; some of which, with their absurd charms, are given in Cato,
R. R. 156 foll.
Footnote 398:
Macrob. l. c.; Juv. _Sat._ 2. 86.
Footnote 399:
Marq. 173. Gilbert (_Gesch. und Topogr._ ii. 159, note) has some
impossible combinations on this subject, and concludes that the Bona
Dea was a moon-goddess.
Footnote 400:
See above, p. 72 foll.
Footnote 401:
Paulus, 68 ‘Damium sacrificium, quod fiebat in operto in honorem Bonae
deae, ... dea quoque ipsa Damia et sacerdos eius damiatrix
appellabatur.’
Footnote 402:
R. Peter in _Myth. Lex._, s. v. Damia; Wissowa, l. c.
Footnote 403:
Paulus, l. c.
Footnote 404:
Lactantius, 1. 22; Serv. _Aen._ 8. 314.
Footnote 405:
Preuner, _Hestia-Vesta_, 407 foll. For Lucina, Gilbert, l. c.
Footnote 406:
The combination of the idea of female fecundity with that of the earth
is of course common enough. Here is a good example from Abyssinia:
‘She (Atetie) is the goddess of fecundity, and women are her principal
votaries; but, as she can also make the earth prolific, offerings are
made to her for that purpose’ (Macdonald, _Religion and Myth_, p. 42).
Footnote 407:
_Fasti_, 5. 421 foll.
Footnote 408:
See Introduction, p. 15.
Footnote 409:
Huschke (_Röm. Jahr_, 17) tried to prove that the Lemuria was the
‘Todtenfest’ of the Sabine city, the Feralia that of the Latin; but
his arguments have convinced no one.
Footnote 410:
_Fasti_, 5. 423.
Footnote 411:
_G. B._ ii. 157 foll.; Macdonald, _Religion and Myth_, ch. vi.
Footnote 412:
Introduction, p. 10.
Footnote 413:
Tylor, _Prim. Cult._ ii. 24. The friendly attitude is well illustrated
in F. de Coulanges’ _La Cité antique_, ch. ii.
Footnote 414:
On Hor. _Ep._ 2. 2. 209.
Footnote 415:
Non. p. 135. Cp. Festus, s. v. faba: ‘Lemuralibus iacitur larvis,’ i.
e. ‘the bean is thrown to _larvae_ at the Lemuralia.’ Serv. _Aen._ 3.
63.
Footnote 416:
_de Genio Socratis_, 15. The passage is interesting, but historically
worthless, as is that of Martianus Capella, 2. 162.
Footnote 417:
_Fasti_, 5. 451 foll.; Porph. l. c. Remus, as one dead before his
time, would not lie quiet: ‘Umbra cruenta Remi visa est adsistere
lecto,’ &c.
Footnote 418:
See e. g. Von Duhn’s paper on Italian excavations, translated in the
_Journal of Hellenic Studies_ for 1897.
Footnote 419:
‘Habent vincula nulla pedes’ (_Fasti_, 5. 432). In performing sacred
rites a man must be free; e. g. the Flamen Dialis might not wear a
ring, or anything binding, and a fettered prisoner had to be loosed in
his house (Plut. _Q. R._ 111). Cp. Numa in his interview with Faunus
(Ov. _Fasti_, 4. 658), ‘Nec digitis annulus ullus inest.’ Serv. _Aen._
4. 518; Hor. _Sat._ 1. 8. 24.
Footnote 420:
_Manes_ must be here used, either loosely by the poet, or
euphemistically by the house-father.
Footnote 421:
It is curious to find them used for the very same purpose of
ghost-ridding as far away as Japan (Frazer, _Golden Bough_, ii. 176).
For their antiquity as food, Hehn, _Kulturpflanzen_, 459; Schrader,
_Sprachvergleichung_, 362.
Footnote 422:
A. Lang, _Myth_, &c., ii. 265; Jevons, _Roman Questions_, Introd. p.
lxxxvi; O. Crusius, _Rhein. Mus._ xxxix. 164 foll.; and especially
Lobeck, _Aglaoph._ 251 foll. For superstitions of a similar kind
attached to the mandrake and other plants see Sir T. Browne’s _Vulgar
Errors_, bk. ii. ch. 6; Rhys, _Celtic Mythology_, p. 356 (the berries
of the rowan).
Footnote 423:
There was a notion that beans sown in a manure-heap produced men. Cp.
Plin. _H. N._ 18. 118 ‘quoniam mortuorum animae sint in ea.’
Footnote 424:
Gell. 10. 15. 2 (from Fabius Pictor).
Footnote 425:
Serv. _Ecl._ 8. 82; Marq. 343 note. Mannhardt, _A. W. F._ 269,
attempts an explanation of the difficulty arising here from the fact
that in historical times the calendar was some weeks in advance of the
seasons, but without much success.
Footnote 426:
This note is wrongly entered in the Fasti Venusini, under May 16.
Footnote 427:
Festus, 245, s. v. Publica sacra. Cp. Mommsen, _Staatsrecht_, iii.
123. Festus distinguishes _pagi_, _montes_, _sacella_, of which the
festivals would seem to be the Paganalia, Septimontium, and sacra
Argeorum, respectively.
Footnote 428:
See under March 17. We arrive at the procession by comparing the
Varronian extracts from the sacra Argeorum (_L. L._ 545) with Gellius,
10. 15.30, and Ovid, _Fasti_, 3. 791. See a restoration of the
itinerary of the procession in Jordan, _Topogr._ ii. 603.
Footnote 429:
Sacella in Varro (_L. L._ 545); sacraria, ib. 548; Argea in Festus,
334, where the word seems to be an adjective; Argei in Liv. 1. 24
‘loca sacris faciendis, quae Argeos pontifices vocant.’ The number
depends on the reading of Varro, 7. 44, xxiv or xxvii; Jordan decided
for xxiv: but see Mommsen, _Staatsrecht_, iii. 123.
Footnote 430:
_Fasti_, 3. 791.
Footnote 431:
Jordan, _Topogr._ ii. 271 foll.
Footnote 432:
Dionysius, 1. 38; Ovid, _Fasti_, 5. 621 foll.; Festus, p. 334, s. v.
Sexagenarii; Plutarch, _Q. R._ 32 and 86.
Footnote 433:
Dionysius says there were thirty; he had probably seen the ceremony,
but may have only made a rough guess at the number or have thought of
the thirty Curiae. Ovid writes of two: ‘Falcifero libata seni duo
corpora gentis Mittite,’ &c. (Jordan proposed to read ‘senilia’ for
‘seni duo.’)
Footnote 434:
Festus, 334.
Footnote 435:
Festus, l. c.; Cicero, _pro Roscio Amerino_, 35. 100. _Sexagenarios de
ponte_ was apparently an old saying (cp. ‘depontani,’ Festus, 75); the
earliest notice we have of it, which comes from the poet Afranius,
seems to connect it with the pons sublicius.
Footnote 436:
‘The etymology will of course explain a word, but only if it happens
to be right; the history of the word is a surer guide’ (Skeat). In
this case we have not even the history.
Footnote 437:
See Schwegler, i 383. note; Marq. 183. Mommsen (_Staatsrecht_, iii.
123) reverts to the opinion that Argei is simply Ἀργεῖοι, and
preserves a reminiscence of Greek captives. Nettleship, in his _Notes
in Latin Lexicography_, p. 271, is inclined to connect the word with
‘arcere’, in the sense of confining prisoners. More fanciful
developments in a paper by O. Keller, in Fleckeisen’s _Jahrbuch_,
cxxxiii. 845 foll.
Footnote 438:
The puppets may have been made in March, and then hung in the sacella
till May: so Jordan, _Topogr._ l. c. The writer in _Myth. Lex._ thinks
that human victims were originally kept in these sacella, for whom the
puppets were surrogates.
Footnote 439:
There is an interesting modern parallel in Mannhardt, _A. W. F._ 178.
Footnote 440:
Varro, _L. L._ 5. 83, and Jordan, _Topogr._ i. 398. The general
opinion seems now to favour the view that there was an original
connexion between the _pontifices_ and the _pons sublicius_.
Footnote 441:
Varro, _L. L._ 5. 83; Dionys. 2. 73, 3. 45.
Footnote 442:
This was the suggestion of Mr. Frazer in a note in the _Journal of
Philology_, vol. xiv. p. 156. The late Prof. Nettleship once expressed
this view to me.
Footnote 443:
Paulus, p. 15 ‘per Virgines Vestales’; Ovid, _Fasti_, 5. 621.
Footnote 444:
See below, p. 149.
Footnote 445:
Plut. _Quaest. Rom._ 86; Gell. 10. 15; Marq. 318. Her usual head-dress
was the _flammeum_, or bride’s veil. No mention is made of the Flamen
her husband; the prominence of women in all these rites is noticeable.
Footnote 446:
_Baumkultus_, 155, 411, 416. The cult of Adonis has some features like
that of the Argei: e. g. the puppet, the immersion in water and the
mourning (see _Lex._ s. v. Adonis, p. 73; Mannhardt, _A. W. F._ 276).
Footnote 447:
i. e. ‘old men must go over the bridge.’ See Cic. _pro Roscio
Amerino_, 35, where the old edition of Osenbrüggen has a useful note.
Also Varro, apud Lactant. _Inst._ 1. 21. 6. Ovid alludes to the
proverb (5. 623 foll.) ‘Corpora post decies senos qui credidit annos
Missa neci, sceleris crimine damnat avos.’
Footnote 448:
Dionys. 1. 38. But he may have been deceived simply by the appearance
of the bindings of the sheaves or bundles, especially if he had been
told beforehand of the proverb.
Footnote 449:
The best known instances of human sacrifice at Rome are collected in a
note to Merivale’s _History_ (vol. iii. 35); and by Sachse, _Die
Argeer_, p. 17. O. Müller thought that it came to Rome from Etruria
(_Etrusker_, ii. 20). For Greece, see Hermann, _Griech. Alt._ ii. sec.
27; Strabo. 10. 8. See also some valuable remarks in Tylor, _Prim.
Cult._ ii. 362, on substitution in sacrifice.
Footnote 450:
Caesar, _B. G._ 6. 16; Tac. _Germ._ 9 and 39. Strabo, 10. 8, is
interesting, as giving an example of the dropping out of the actual
killing, while the form survived. See below on Lupercalia, p. 315.
Footnote 451:
A point suggested to me some years ago by Mr. A. J. Evans.
Footnote 452:
Sir A. Lyall (_Asiatic Studies_, p. 19) writes of human sacrifice as
having been common in India as a last resort for appeasing divine
wrath when manifested in some strange manner; i. e. it was never
regular. So Procopius, _Bell. Goth._ 3. 13. Tacitus, indeed, writes of
‘certis diebus’ (_Germ._ 9), but it is not clear that he meant fixed
recurring days. As a rule in human sacrifice and cannibalism the
victims are captives, who would not be always at hand.
Footnote 453:
Dionysius (1. 38) speaks of sacrifice _before_ the immersion of the
puppets: προθύσαντες ἱερὰ τὰ κατὰ τοὺς νόμους.
Footnote 454:
The βούλιμος and φαρμακός, Mannhardt, _Myth. Forsch._ 129 foll.
Footnote 455:
_Germania_, 40: Mannhardt, _Baumkultus_, 567 foll. The evidence is
perhaps hardly adequate as to detail.
Footnote 456:
_Baumkultus_, chapters 3, 4, and 5, which should be used by all who
wish to form some idea of the amount of evidence collected on this one
head.
Footnote 457:
Our Jack-in-the-Green is probably a survival of this kind of rite.
Footnote 458:
Nearly all these customs occur either at Whitsuntide or harvest.
Mannhardt conjectured that the Argei-rite was originally a harvest
custom (_A. W. F._ 269); quite needlessly, I think.
Footnote 459:
_Baumkultus_, 331.
Footnote 460:
Mannhardt allows this, _Baumkultus_, 336 note.
Footnote 461:
_Baumkultus_, 358 foll. His theory is expressed in judicious and by no
means dogmatic language. It may be that he runs his Vegetation-spirit
somewhat too hard—and no mythologist is free from the error of seeing
his own discovery exemplified wherever he turns. But the spirit of
vegetation had been found at Rome long before Mannhardt’s time (see e.
g. Preller’s account of Mars and the deities related to him).
Footnote 462:
_Baumkultus_, 359, 420; _Korndämonen_, 24.
Footnote 463:
_Baumkultus_, 349 foll., 365, 414.
Footnote 464:
Cp. the root _cas-_, which (according to Corssen, _Aussprache_, i. 652
note), appears both in _canus_ and _cascus_, and also in the Oscan
_casnar_ = ‘an old man.’ The word _casnar_ is used by Varro (ap.
Nonium, 86) for _sexagenarius_, or possibly _argeus_: ‘Vix ecfatus
erat cum more maiorum carnales (= casnales) arripiunt et de ponte
deturbant.’ Cf. Varro, _L. L._ 7. 73; Mommsen, _Unteritalische
Dialekten_, p. 268. The root _arg_ may perhaps have meant _holy_ as
well as old or white, like the Welsh _gwen_ (Rhys, _Celtic Mythology_,
527 note).
Footnote 465:
_Baumkultus_, 214-16, 355, &c. On p. 356 is a valuable note giving
examples from America, India, &c. For a remarkable case from ancient
Egypt, of which the object is not rain, but inundation, see Tylor,
_Prim. Cult._ ii. 368. See also Grimm, _Teutonic Mythology_ (E. T.),
p. 593 foll.
Footnote 466:
_Quaest. Rom._ 86. This work is undoubtedly drawn chiefly from Varro’s
writings, but largely through the medium of those of Juba the king of
Mauretania, who wrote in Greek (Barth de Jubae Ὁμοιότησιν in Plutarcho
expressis: Göttingen, 1876).
Footnote 467:
Parallels in _Baumkultus_, pp. 170, 178, 211, 409. These are examples
of May-trees and other objects, sometimes decked out as human beings,
which are hung up in the homestead for a certain time—e. g. in Austria
from May-day to St. John Baptist’s day, a period closely corresponding
both in length and season to that at Rome, from March 15 to May 15. In
the church of Charlton-on-Otmoor, near Oxford, it is hung on the
rood-screen from May 1 onwards.
Footnote 468:
Ovid, _Fasti_, 5. 627; Dionys. 1. 38.
Footnote 469:
See Macrob. 1. 7. 28. In Dionysius’ version, however, of the line it
is Ἅιδης to whom the sacrifice is offered.
Footnote 470:
Festus, 334.
Footnote 471:
_Topogr._ ii. 285.
Footnote 472:
_Lex._ s. v. Mercurius, p. 2804.
Footnote 473:
Aust, _de Aedibus sacris_, p. 5.
Footnote 474:
It seems to me probable that there was a Mercurius at Rome before the
introduction of Hermes; but this cannot be proved. It seems likely
that the temple-cult established in 495 B.C. was really that of Hermes
under an Italian name, as in the parallel case of Ceres. This was one
year later than the date of the Ceres-temple (above, p. 74).
Footnote 475:
Mercuriales, or Mercatores (Jordan, _Topogr._ i. 1. 278). They
belonged to the collegia of the pagi.
Footnote 476:
See on March 17 and January 9.
Footnote 477:
i. 262 foll.; Ovid, _Fasti_, 3. 445; Gell. _N. A._ 5. 12.
Footnote 478:
_C. I. L._ i. 807; the dedication of an altar (Vediovei Patrei
genteiles Iuliei) found at Bovillae.
Footnote 479:
Ovid, _Fasti_, 3. 429; Gell. 5. 12. It was this temple which had May
21 as its ‘dies natalis.’
Footnote 480:
Liv. 31. 21. 12 (reading Vediovi for deo Iovi, with Merkel and
Jordan).
Footnote 481:
Gell. l. c.; Preller, i. 264, and Jordan’s note.
Footnote 482:
Gell. 5. 12. The meaning of the expression is not clear. Paulus (165)
writes: ‘Humanum sacrificium dicebant quod mortui causa fiebat’—which
does not greatly help us. Preller reasonably suggested that the goat
might be a substitutory victim in place of a ‘homo sacer’ or criminal
(i. 265).
Footnote 483:
Above, p. 63.
Footnote 484:
_Fasti_, 5. 725.
Footnote 485:
_de Feriis_, xv.
Footnote 486:
Gell. 13. 23.
Footnote 487:
The Hephaestus-myth has been treated on the comparative method by F.
von Schröder (_Griech. Götter u. Heroen_, i. 79 foll.), and by Rapp in
_Myth. Lex._ It is of course possible that it may have been known to
the early Italians, but what we know of Volcanus does not favour this.
Footnote 488:
Vitruvius, 3. 2. 2; it was ‘proxime portam Collinam.’
Footnote 489:
See below, pp. 165, 223.
Footnote 490:
Liv. 34. 53; Aust, _de Aedibus_, p. 20.
Footnote 491:
This seems to have been the date among the Anauni of N. Italy as late
as 393 A.D.: see the _Acta Martyrum_, p. 536 (Verona, 1731). (For the
Anauni, Rushforth, _Latin Historical Inscriptions_, p. 99 foll.)
Footnote 492:
_Chron._ 70 foll.: a difficult bit of calculation.
Footnote 493:
Mommsen, l. c. Henzen, _Acta Fr. Arv._ xlvi-xlviii; Jordan on Preller,
i. 420, and _Topogr._ i. 289, ii. 236. The latter would also identify
Ambarvalia and Amburbium; but the two seem clearly distinguished by
Servius (_Ecl._ 3.77).
Footnote 494:
p. 200. Huschke, _Röm. Jahr_, 63.
Footnote 495:
p. 5. See Jordan on Preller, i. 420, note 2; Marq. 200, note 3.
Footnote 496:
_Georg._ 1. 338 foll.
Footnote 497:
‘Extremae sub casum hiemis’ might possibly suit the Italian April, but
certainly not the Italian May. May 1 is the earliest date we have for
an agri lustratio, i. e. in Campania (_C. I. L._ x. 3792). ‘Tunc
mollissima vina’ may contain a reference to the Vinalia of April 23,
when the new wine was first drunk; and if that were so, the general
reference might be to the Cerialia or its rustic equivalent.
Footnote 498:
_R. R._ 141. Cp. Siculus Flaccus in _Gromatici Veteres_, p. 164. The
lustratio should be celebrated before even the earliest crops (e. g.
beans) were cut.
Footnote 499:
Henzen, _Acta Fr. Arv._ xlviii.
Footnote 500:
Cato, _R. R._ 141. I have availed myself of the Italian translation
and commentary of Prof. De Marchi in his work on the domestic religion
of the Romans, p. 128 foll.
Footnote 501:
Bücheler, _Umbrica_; Bréal, _Les Tables Eugubines_.
Footnote 502:
Brand, _Popular Antiquities_, p. 292.
Footnote 503:
I am informed that it visited one hamlet, Horton, which is not at
present in the parish of Charlton; of this there should be some
topographical explanation.
Footnote 504:
The cross is very commonly carried about on the continent, and in
Holland the week is called cross-week for this reason. But at Charlton
there seems to have been a confusion between this cross and the
May-queen or May-doll; for on May-day, 1898, the old woman who decked
it called it ‘my lady,’ and spoke of ‘her waist,’ &c. I am indebted to
the Rev. C. E. Prior, the present incumbent, for information about
this interesting survival.
MENSIS IUNIUS.
KAL. IUN. (JUNE 1). N.
IUNONI MONETAE (VEN.)
FABARICI C[IRCENSES] M[ISSUS]. (PHILOC.)
On the name of the mensis Junius some remarks have already been made
under May 1. There is no sure ground for connecting it with Juno[505].
The first day of June was sacred to her, but so were all Kalends; and if
this was also the _dies natalis_ of the temple of Juno Moneta _in arce_,
we have no reason to suppose the choice of day to be specially
significant[506]. We know the date of this dedication; it was in 344
B.C. and in consequence of a vow made by L. Furius Camillus Dictator in
a war against the Aurunci[507]. Of a Juno Moneta of earlier date we have
no knowledge; and, in spite of much that has been said to the contrary,
I imagine that the title was only given to a Juno of the _arx_ in
consequence of the popular belief that the Capitol was saved from the
attack of the Gauls (390 B.C.) by the warning voices of her sacred
geese. What truth there was in that story may be a matter of doubt, but
it seems easier to believe that it had a basis of fact than to account
for it aetiologically[508]. There may well have been an altar or
_sacellum_[509] of Juno on the _arx_, near which her noisy birds were
kept[510]; and when a temple was eventually built here in 344 B.C., it
was appropriately dedicated to Juno of the warning voice. From the fact
that part of this temple was used as a mint[511], the word _Moneta_
gradually passed into another sense, which has found its way into our
modern languages[512].
One tradition connected the name of the month with M. Junius Brutus, who
is said to have performed a _sacrum_ on this day after the flight of
Tarquinius, on the Caelian Hill[513]. This _sacrum_ had no connexion
with Juno, and the tradition which thus absurdly brings Brutus into the
question shows plainly that the derivation from Juno was not universally
accepted[514]. The real deity of the Kalends of June was not Juno, but
an antique goddess whose antiquity is attested both by the meagreness of
our knowledge of her, and the strange confusion about her which Ovid
displays. Had Carna been more successful in the struggle for existence
of Roman deities, we might not have been so sure of her extreme
antiquity; but no foreign cult grafted on her gave her a new lease of
life, and by the end of the Republic she was all but dead.
What little we do know of her savours of the agricultural life and
folk-lore of the old Latins. Her sacrifices were of bean-meal and
lard[515]; and this day went by the name of Kalendae fabariae[516],
‘quia hoc mense adultae fabae divinis rebus adhibentur.’ The fact was
that it was the time of bean-harvest[517]; and beans, as we have already
seen, were much in request for sacred purposes. ‘Maximus honos fabae,’
says Pliny[518], alluding to the value of the bean as food, to its
supposed narcotic power, and its use in religious ritual. We have
already found beans used in the cult of the dead and the ejection of
ghosts from the house[519]; and Prof. Wissowa has of late ingeniously
conjectured that this day (June 1) was concerned with rites of the same
kind[520]. He quotes an inscription, a will in which a legacy is left
‘ut rosas Carnar[iis] ducant’[521]. Undoubtedly the reference here is to
rites of the dead (cf. Rosalia), and Mommsen may be right in suggesting
that by Carnar[iis] is meant the Kalends of June. But it is going a
little too far to argue on this slender evidence, even if we add to it
the fact that the day was _nefastus_, that the festival of Carna was of
the same kind as the Parentalia, Rosalia, &c.; a careful reading of
Ovid’s comments seems to show that there were curious survivals of
folk-lore connected with the day and with Carna which cannot all be
explained by reference to rites of the dead.
Ovid does indeed at once mislead his readers by identifying Carna and
Cardea, and thus making the former the deity of door-hinges, and
bringing her into connexion with Janus[522]. But we may guess that he
does this simply because he wants to squeeze in a pretty folk-tale of
Janus and Cardea, for which his readers may be grateful, and which need
not deceive them. When he writes of the ritual of Carna[523]—our only
safe guide—he makes it quite plain that he is mixing up the attributes
of two distinct deities. He brings the two together by contriving that
Janus, as a reward to Cardea for yielding to his advances, should bestow
on her not only the charge of _cardines_, but also that of protecting
infants from the _striges_[524], creatures of the nature of vampires,
but described by Ovid as owls, who were wont to suck their blood and
devour their vitals. But this last duty surely belonged to Carna, of
whom Macrobius says ‘Hanc deam vitalibus humanis praeesse credunt’: and
thus Carna’s attribute is conjoined with Cardea’s. The lines are worth
quoting in which Ovid describes the charms which are to keep off the
_striges_, for as preserving a remnant of old Italian folk-lore they are
more interesting than the doubtful nature of an obscure deity[525]:
Protinus arbutea[526] postes ter in ordine tangit
Fronde, ter arbutea limina fronde notat:
Spargit aquis aditus—et aquae medicamen habebant—
Extaque de porca cruda bimenstre tenet[527].
Atque ita ‘noctis aves, extis puerilibus’ inquit
‘Parcite: pro parvo victima parva cadit.
Cor pro corde, precor, pro fibris sumite fibras.
Hanc animam vobis pro meliore damus.’
Sic ubi libavit, prosecta sub aethere ponit,
Quique adsint sacris, respicere illa vetat[528].
Virgaque Ianalis de spina ponitur alba[529]
Qua lumen thalamis parva fenestra dabat.
Post illud nec aves cunas violasse feruntur,
Et rediit puero qui fuit ante color.
Having told his folk-tale and described his charms, Ovid returns to
Carna, and asks why people eat bean-gruel on the Kalends of June, with
the rich fat of pigs. The answer is that the cult of Carna is of ancient
date, and that the healthy food of man in early times is retained in
it[530].
Sus erat in pretio; caesa sue festa colebant.
Terra fabas tantum duraque farra dabat.
Quae duo mixta simul sextis quicunque Kalendis
Ederit, huic laedi viscera posse negant.
This was undoubtedly the real popular belief—that by eating this food on
Carna’s day your digestion was secured for the year. Macrobius[531]
makes the practice into a much more definite piece of ritual. ‘_Prayers_
are offered to this goddess,’ he says, ‘for the good preservation of
liver, heart, and the other internal organs of our bodies. Her
_sacrifices_ are bean-meal and lard, because this is the best food for
the nourishment of the body.’ Ovid is here the genuine Italian,
Macrobius the scholar and theologian: both may be right.
Whatever, then, may be the meaning or etymology of the name Carna, we
may at least be sure that the cult belongs to the age of ancient Latin
agriculture[532], since it was in connexion with her name that the
popular belief survived in Ovid’s time of the virtue of bean-eating on
the Kalends of June.
We learn from Ovid (line 191) that this same day was the _dies natalis_
of the temple of Mars _extra portam Capenam_, i. e. on the Via Appia—a
favourite spot for the mustering of armies, and the starting-point for
the yearly _transvectio equitum_[533]. I have already alluded to the
baseless fabric of conjecture built on the conjunction of Mars and Juno
on this day[534]; and need here only repeat that in no well-attested
Roman myth is Mars the son of Juno, or Juno the wife of Jupiter. And it
is even doubtful whether June 1 was the _original_ dedication-day of
this temple of Mars: the Venusian calendar does not mention it, and Ovid
may be referring to a re-dedication by Augustus[535]. There is
absolutely no ground for the myth-making of Usener and Roscher about
Mars and Juno: but it is to the credit of the latter that he has
inserted in his article on Mars a valuable note by Aust, in which his
own conclusions are cogently controverted.
III. NON. IUN. (JUNE 3). C.
BELLON[AE] IN CIRC[O] FLAM[INIO]. (VEN.)
This temple was vowed by the Consul Ap. Claudius in an Etruscan war[536]
(296 B.C.): the date of dedication is unknown. In front of the temple
was an area of which the truly Roman story is told[537], that being
unable to declare war with Pyrrhus with the orthodox ritual of the
_fetiales_, as he had no land in Italy into which they could throw the
challenging spear[538], they caught a Pyrrhan soldier and made him buy
this spot to suit their purpose. Here stood the ‘columella’ from which
henceforward the spear was thrown[539].
The temple became well known as a suitable meeting-place for the Senate
outside the _pomoerium_, when it was necessary to do business with
generals and ambassadors who could not legally enter the city[540]. But
of the goddess very little is known. There is no sufficient reason to
identify her with that Nerio with whom we made acquaintance in March, as
is done too confidently by the writer of the article in Roscher’s
_Lexicon_[541].
PRID. NON. IUN. (JUNE 4). C.
HERC[ULI] MAGN[O] CUSTO[DI]. (VEN.)
SACRUM HERCULI. (RUST.)
This temple also was near the Circus Flaminius[542]. It was a foundation
of Sulla’s, 82 B.C., and the cult was Greek, answering to that of
Ἡρακλῆς ἀλεξίκακος[543].
NON. IUN. (JUNE 5). N.[544]
DIO FIDIO IN COLLE. (VEN.)
The temple on the Quirinal of which this was the _dies natalis_ is said
by Dionysius[545] to have been vowed by Tarquinius Superbus, and
dedicated by Sp. Postumius in B.C. 466. But that there was a _fanum_ or
_sacellum_ of this deity on or near the same site at a much earlier time
is almost certain; such a _sacellum_ ‘ad portam Sanqualem’ is mentioned,
also by Dionysius[546], as ἱερὸν Διὸς Πιστίου, and we know that in many
cases the final _aedes_ or _templum_ was a development from an uncovered
altar or sacred place.
Dius Fidius, as the adjectival character of his name shows, was a
genuine old Italian religious conception, but one that in historical
times was buried almost out of sight. Among gods and heroes there has
been a struggle for existence, as among animals and plants; with some
peoples a struggle between indigenous and exotic deities, in which the
latter usually win the day, and displace or modify the native
species[547]. What laws, if any, govern this struggle for existence it
is not possible to discern clearly; the result is doubtless the survival
of the fittest, if by the fittest we understand those which flourish
best under the existing conditions of society and thought; but it would
hardly seem to be the survival of those which are most beneficial to the
worshipping race. Among the Romans the fashionable exotic deities of the
later Republic and Empire had no such ethical influence on the character
of the people as those older ones of the type of Dius Fidius, who in
historical times was known to the ordinary Roman only through the medium
of an old-fashioned oath.
Ovid knows very little about Dius Fidius[548]:
Quaerebam Nonas Sanco Fidione referrem,
An tibi, Semo pater: cum mihi Sancus ait
‘Cuicunque ex illis dederis, ego munus habebo;
Nomina trina fero, sic voluere Cures.’
He finds three names for the deity, but two would have sufficed; the
only individual Semo known to us is Sancus himself. The Semones, so far
as we can guess, were spirits of the ‘pandaemonic’ age, nameless like
the Lares with whom they are associated in the hymn of the Fratres
Arvales[549]; but one only, Semo Sancus, seems to have taken a name and
survived into a later age, and this one was identified with Dius Fidius.
Aelius Stilo, the Varro of the seventh century A. U. C., seems to have
started this identification[550]. Varro does not comment on it; but
Verrius accepted it: he writes of an ‘aedes Sancus, qui deus Dius Fidius
vocatur’[551]. The evidence of inscriptions is explicit for a later
period; an altar, for example, found near the supposed site of his
temple on the Quirinal, bears the inscription ‘Sanco Sancto Semon[i] deo
fidio sacrum’[552]. And there is nothing in the words Sancus and Fidius
to forbid the identification, for both point to the same class of
ideas—that of the bond which religious feeling places on men in their
duties to, and contracts with, each other. They are in fact two
different names for the same religious conception. It is interesting to
find them both occurring in the great processional inscription of
Iguvium in Umbria: Fisus or Fisovius Sancius, who is there invoked next
after Jupiter, seems to unite the two deities in a single name[553].
This conjunction would seem to save us from the necessity of discussing
the question whether Sancus, as has often been insisted on by scholars
both ancient and modern[554], was really the Sabine form of Dius Fidius;
for if in Umbria the two are found together, as at Rome, there is no
reason why the same should not have been the case throughout central
Italy. The question would never have been asked had the fluid nature of
the earliest Italian deities and the adjectival character of their names
been duly taken account of. We are all of us too apt to speak of this
primitive spirit-world in terms of a later polytheistic theology, and to
suppose that the doubling of a name implies some distinction of origin
or race.
Dius Fidius, then, and Semo Sancus are both Latin names for the same
religious conception, the impersonality of which caused it to lose
vitality as new and anthropomorphic ideas of the divine came into vogue
at Rome. But there is at least some probability that it survived in a
fashion under the name of an intruder, Hercules; and the connexion with
Hercules will show, what we might already have guessed, that the
religious conception we are speaking of was very near akin to that of
Jupiter himself.
There is clear evidence that the best Roman scholars identified not only
Dius Fidius with Semo Sancus, but both of these with Hercules. Varro, in
a passage already quoted, tells us that Stilo believed Dius Fidius to be
the Sabine Sancus and the Greek Hercules; Verrius Flaccus, if his
excerptors represent him rightly, in two separate glosses identified all
these three[555].
Again, the Roman oaths _me dius fidius_ and _me hercule_ are synonymous;
that the former was the older can hardly be doubted, and the latter must
have come into vogue when the Greek oath by Heracles became familiar.
Thus the origin of _me hercule_ must be found in a union of the
characteristics of Hercules with those of the native Dius Fidius. It is
worth noting that in pronouncing both these oaths it was the custom to
go out into the open air[556]. Here is a point at which both Hercules
and Dius Fidius seem to come into line with Jupiter; for the most solemn
oath of all was _per Iovem_ (_lapidem_), also taken under the light of
heaven[557], as was the case with the oath at the altar of Ζεὺς Ἑρκεῖος
in Greece[558]. Yet another point of conjunction is the _ara maxima_ at
the entrance to the Circus Maximus, which was also a place where oaths
were taken and treaties ratified[559]; this was the altar of Hercules
Victor, to whom the tithes of spoil were offered; and this was also
associated with the legend of Hercules and Cacus. In the deity by whom
oaths were sworn, and in the deity of the tithes and the legend, it is
now acknowledged on all hands that we should recognize a great Power
whom we may call Dius Fidius, or Semo Sancus, or the Genius Iovius, or
even Jupiter himself[560]. Tithes, oaths, and the myth of the struggle
of light with darkness, cannot be associated with such a figure as the
Hercules who came to Italy from Greece; tithes are the due of some great
god, or lord of the land[561], oaths are taken in the presence of the
god of heaven, and the great nature myth only descends by degrees to
attach itself to semi-human figures.
We are here indeed in the presence of very ancient Italian religious
ideas, which we can only very dimly apprehend, and for the explanation
of which—so far as explanation is possible—there is not space in this
work. But before we leave Dius Fidius, I will briefly indicate the
evidence on which we may rest our belief (1) that as Semo Sancus, he is
connected with Jupiter as the god of the heaven and thunder; and (2)
that as Hercules he is closely related to the same god as seen in a
different aspect.
1. In the Iguvian inscription referred to above Sancius in one place
appears in conjunction with Iovius[562]; and, as we have seen, it is
also found in the same ritual with Fisu or Fisovius. In this same
passage of the inscription (which is a manual of ritual for the Fratres
Attidii, an ancient religious brotherhood of Iguvium), the priest is
directed to have in his hand an _urfita_ (_orbita_), i. e. either disk
or globe; and this _urfita_ has been compared[563], not without reason,
with the _orbes_ mentioned by Livy[564] as having been made of brass
after the capture of Privernum and placed in the temple of Semo Sancus.
If we may safely believe that such symbols occur chiefly in the worship
of deities of sun and heaven, as seems probable, we have here some
evidence, however imperfect, for the common origin of Sancus and
Jupiter.
Again, there was in Roman augural lore a bird called _sanqualis avis_,
which can hardly be dissociated from the cult of Sancus; for there was
also an ancient city gate, the porta Sanqualis, near the sacellum Sancus
on the Quirinal[565]. Pliny’s language about this bird shows that this
bit of ancient lore was almost lost in his time; but at the same time he
makes it clear that it was believed to belong to the eagle family, which
played such an important part in the science of augury. The only
concrete fact that seems to be told us about this bird is that in B.C.
177 one struck with its beak a sacred stone at Crustumerium—a stone, it
would seem, that had fallen from heaven, i. e. a thunder-stone or a
meteorite[566].
Bearing this in mind, we are not surprised to find further traces of a
connexion between Sancus and thunderbolts. There was at Rome a _decuria_
of _sacerdotes bidentales_, in close association with the cult of
Sancus. Three votive altars are extant, dedicated to the god by this
_decuria_[567]; two of them were found on the Quirinal, close to the
site of the sacellum Sancus. Now the meaning of the word _bidental_
shows that the _decuria_ had as its duty the care of the sacred spots
which had been struck by thunderbolts; such a spot, which was also
called _puteal_ from its resemblance to a well fenced with a circular
wall, bore the name _bidental_, presumably because two-year-old sheep
(_bidentes_) were sacrificed there[568]. Consequently we again have
Sancus brought into connexion with the augural lore of lightning, which
made it a religious duty to bury the bolt, and fence off the spot from
profane intrusion. Yet another step forward in this dim light. A
_bidental_ was one kind of _templum_, as we are expressly told[569]; and
the temple of Sancus itself seems to have had this peculiarity. Varro
says that its roof was _perforatum_, so that the sky might be seen
through it[570]. In a fragment of augural lore, apparently genuine
though preserved by a writer of late date, the _caeli templum_ seems to
have been conceived as a dome, or a ball (_orbis_) cut in half, _with a
hole in the top_[571]. We may allow that we are here getting out of our
depth; but the general result of what has been put forward is that
Sancus = Dius Fidius was originally a spirit or _numen_ of the heaven,
and a wielder of the lightning, closely allied to the great Jupiter,
whose cult, combined with that of Hercules, had almost obliterated him
in historical times.
Finally, it would seem that those moral attributes of Jupiter which give
him a unique position in the Roman theology as the god of truth, order,
and concord, belonged at one period also to Sancus as Dius Fidius; for
in his temple was kept the most ancient treaty of which the Romans knew,
that said to have been made by Tarquinius Superbus with Gabii, which
Dionysius must himself have seen[572], and which he describes as
consisting of a wooden _clypeus_, bound with the hide of a sacrificed
ox, and bearing ancient letters. Here also was the reputed statue of
Gaia Caecilia or Tanaquil, the ideal Roman matron; of which it has been
conjectured, rashly perhaps, but by an authority of weight, that it
really represented a humanized female form of Dius Fidius, standing to
him as the Junones of women stood to the Genii of men, or as Juno in the
abstract to Genius in the abstract[573].
2. The last sentence of the preceding paragraph may aptly bring us to
our second point, viz. the relation to Jupiter of Dius Fidius as =
Hercules. Those who read the article ‘Dius Fidius’ in Roscher’s
_Lexicon_ will be struck by the fact that so cautious a writer as
Professor Wissowa should boldly identify this deity, at the very outset
of his account, with the ‘Genius Iovis’; and this conjecture, which is
not his own, but rather that of the late Professor Reifferscheid of
Breslau[574], calls for a word of explanation.
More than thirty years ago Reifferscheid published a paper in which he
compared certain points in the cults of Juno and Hercules, of which we
have a meagre knowledge from Roman literature, with some works of art of
Etruscan or ancient Italian origin (i. e. not Greek), and found that
they seemed to throw new and unexpected light on each other.
The Roman women, we are told[575], did not swear by Hercules, but by
‘their Juno’; the men swore by Hercules, Dius Fidius, or by their
Genius[576]. Women were excluded from the cult of Hercules at the ara
maxima[577]; men were excluded, not indeed from the cult of Juno, but
(as Reifferscheid puts it) ‘from that of Bona Dea, who was not far
removed from Juno[578].’ At the birth of a child, a couch (_lectus_) was
spread in the _atrium_ for Juno, a _mensa_ for Hercules[579]. The
bride’s girdle (_cingulum_) seems to have given rise to a cult-title of
Juno, viz. Cinxia, while the knot in it which was loosed by the
bridegroom at the _lectus genialis_ was called the _nodus
herculaneus_[580].
Now Reifferscheid believed that he found the same conjunction of Juno
and Hercules in several works of art, which may be supposed to be
reflections from the same set of ideas which produced the usages just
indicated. In the most important of these there is indeed no doubt about
it; this is a mirror of Etruscan workmanship[581], in which three
figures are marked with the Latin names IOVEI (Jupiter), IUNO and
HERCELE. Jupiter sits on an altar in the middle, and with his right hand
is touching Juno, who has her left hand on his shoulder; Hercules stands
with his club, apparently expectant, on the left. From certain
indications in the mirror (for which I must refer the reader to the
illustration on p. 2259 of Roscher’s _Lexicon_) Reifferscheid concluded
that Jupiter was here giving Juno in marriage to Hercules; and, in spite
of some criticism, this interpretation has been generally accepted[582].
In other works of art he found the same conjunction, though no names
mark the figures; in these Hercules and Juno, if such they be, appear to
be contending for the mastery, rather than uniting peacefully in
wedlock[583]. This conjunction, or opposition, of Juno and Hercules, is
thus explained by Reifferscheid. The name Juno represents the female
principle in human nature[584]; the ‘genius’ of a woman was called by
this name, and the cult of Juno as a developed goddess shows many
features that bear out the proposition[585]. If these facts be so, then
the inference to be drawn from the conjunction or opposition of Juno and
Hercules is that the name Hercules indicates the _male_ principle in
human nature. But the male principle is also expressed in the word
Genius, as we see e. g. in the term _lectus genialis_; Hercules
therefore and Genius mean the same thing—the former name having
encroached upon the domain of the latter, as a Latinized form of
Heracles, of all Greek heroes or divinities the most _virile_. And if
Hercules, Semo Sancus and Dius Fidius are all different names for the
same idea, then the word Genius may be taken as equivalent to the two
last of these as well as to Hercules[586].
But why does Reifferscheid go on to tell us that this Genius, i. e.
Hercules = Sancus = Dius Fidius, is the _Genius Iovis_? How does he
connect this many-titled conception with the great father of the sky? As
a matter of fact, he has but slender evidence for this; he relies on the
mirror in which he found Jupiter giving Juno to Hercules, and on the
conjecture that the Greek Hercules, the son of Zeus, would easily come
to occupy in Italy the position of Genius, if the latter were, in an
abstract form and apart from individual human life, regarded as the
Genius of Jupiter[587]. And in this he is followed by Wissowa and other
writers in Roscher’s _Lexicon_.
It would perhaps have been wiser not to go so far as this. He has
already carried us back to a world of ideas older than these varying
names which so often bewilder us in the Roman worship—to a world of
spirits, Semones, Lares, Cerri, ghosts of deceased ancestors, vegetation
demons, and men’s ‘other souls.’ When he talks of a _Genius Iovis_[588],
he is surely using the language of later polytheism to express an idea
which belonged, not to a polytheistic age, but to that older world of
religious thought. He is doing, in fact, the very thing which the Romans
themselves were doing all through the period of the Republic—the one
thing which above all others has made the study of their religious ideas
such a treacherous quagmire for the modern student.
VI ID. IUN. (JUNE 8). N.
MENTI IN CAPITOLIO. (VEN. MAFF. VI MINORES.)
The temple of Mens was vowed by T. Otacilius (praetor) in 217 B.C.,
after the battle of Trasimenus ‘propter neglegentiam caerimoniarum
auspiciorumque[589],’ and dedicated in 215 B.C., by the same man as
_duumvir aedibus dedicandis_[590]. The vow was the result of an
inspection of the Sibylline books, from which we might infer that the
goddess was a stranger[591]. If so, who was she, and whence? Reasoning
from the fact that in the same year, in the same place, and by the same
man, a temple was dedicated to Venus Erycina[592], Preller guessed that
this Mens was not a mere abstraction, but another form of the same
Venus; for a Venus Mimnermia or Meminia is mentioned by Servius[593],
‘quod meminerit omnium.’
However this may be, the foundation of a cult of Mens at so critical a
moment of their fortunes is very characteristic of the Roman spirit of
that age; it was an appeal to ‘something not themselves which made for
righteousness’ to help them to remember their caerimoniae, and not to
neglect their auspicia. It is remarkable that this temple of Mens was
restored by M. Aemilius Scaurus probably amid the disasters of the
Cimbrian war a century later[594].
VII ID. IUN. (JUNE 7). N.
VESTA APERIT. (PHILOC.)
V ID. IUN. (JUNE 9). N.
VESTALIA. (TUSC. VEN. MAFF.)
XVII KAL. QUINCT. (JUNE 15). N.
VESTA CLUDITUR. (PHILOC.)
XVII KAL. QUINCT. (JUNE 15). Q. ST. D. F.
It would seem from these notes in the calendars, and from passages in
Ovid and Festus[595], that both before and after the day of the true
Vestalia there were days set apart for the cult of the goddess, which
were _nefasti_ and also _religiosi_[596]. Ovid’s lines are worth
quoting; he consults the Flaminica Dialis[597] about the marriage of his
daughter:
Tum mihi post sacras monstratur Iunius idus
Utilis et nuptis, utilis esse viris,
Primaque pars huius thalamis aliena reperta est,
Nam mihi sic coniunx sancta Dialis ait;
‘Donec ab Iliaca placidus purgamina Vesta
Detulerit flavis in mare Thybris aquis,
Non mihi detonsos crines depectere buxo,
Non ungues ferro subsecuisse licet,
Non tetigisse virum, quamvis Iovis ille sacerdos,
Quamvis perpetua sit mihi lege datus.
Tu quoque ne propera. Melius tua filia nubet
Ignea cum pura Vesta nitebit humo.’
What is the meaning of this singular aspect of the Vesta-cult? Why
should these days be so ill-omened or so sacred that during them
marriages might not be celebrated, and the priestess of Jupiter might
not hold any intercourse with her husband, cut her hair, or pare her
nails? And what is the explanation of the annotation Q[uando] St[ercus]
D[elatum] F[as][598], which on the 15th indicated the breaking of the
spell, and a return to ordinary ways of life? Before attempting to
answer these questions, it will be as well to say a few words about the
nature and probable origin of the worship of Vesta. Owing to the
remarkable vitality and purity of this cult throughout the whole of
Roman history, we do not meet here with those baffling obscurities which
so often beset us in dealing with deities that had lost all life and
shape when Roman scholars began to investigate them. And yet we know
that we are here in the presence of rites and ideas of immemorial
antiquity.
In an article of great interest in the _Journal of Philology_ for
1885[599], Mr. J. G. Frazer first placed the origin of the cult in a
clear light for English scholars. By comparing it with similar practices
of existing peoples still in a primitive condition of life, he made
apparent the real germ of the institution of the Vestal Virgins. Helbig,
in his _Italiker in der Poebene_[600], had already recognized that germ
in _the necessity of keeping one fire always alight in each settlement_,
so that its members could at any time supply themselves with the flame,
then so hard to procure at a moment’s notice; and Mr. Frazer had only to
go one step further, and show that the task of keeping this fire alight
was that of the daughters of the chief. This step he was able to take,
supported by evidence from Damaraland in South Africa, where the
priestess of the perpetual fire is the chief’s daughter; quoting also
the following example from Calabria in Southern Italy: ‘At the present
day the fire in a Calabrian peasant’s house is never (except after a
death) allowed to die quite out, even in the heat of summer; it is a bad
omen if it should chance to be extinguished, and the girls of the house,
whose special care it is to keep at least a single brand burning on the
hearth, are sadly dismayed at such a mishap.’ The evidence of the Roman
_ius sacrum_ quite confirms this modern evidence; the Vestals were under
the patria potestas of the pontifex maximus, who represented in
republican times the legal powers of the Rex, and from this fact we may
safely argue that they had once been the daughters of the primitive
chief. The _flamines_ too, or _kindlers_, as being under the potestas of
the pontifex, may be taken as representing the sons of the primitive
household[601]. But from various reasons[602] the duties of the
_flamines_ became obsolete or obscure; while those of the Vestals
remained to give us an almost perfect picture of life in the household
of the oldest Latins.
From the first, no doubt, the tending of the fire was in some sense a
religious service, and the flame a sacred flame[603]. There must have
been many stages of growth from this beginning to the fully developed
Vesta of the Republic and Empire; yet we can see that the lines of
development were singularly simple and consistent. The sacred fire for
example was maintained in the aedes Vestae, adjoining the king’s
house[604] (_regia_); and the penus Vestae, which must originally have
contained the stores on which the family depended for their sustenance,
was always believed to preserve the most sacred and valuable objects
possessed by the State[605].
We return to the Vestalia, of which the ritual was as follows. On June
7, the penus Vestae, which was shut all the rest of the year, and to
which no man but the pontifex maximus had at any time right of entry,
was thrown open to all matrons. During the seven following days they
crowded to it barefoot[606]. Ovid relates his own experience[607]:
Forte revertebar festis Vestalibus illa
Qua nova Romano nunc via iuncta foro est.
Huc pede matronam vidi descendere nudo:
Obstipui tacitus sustinuique gradum.
The object of this was perhaps to pray for a blessing on the household.
On plain and old-fashioned ware offerings of food were carried into the
temple: the Vestals themselves offered the sacred cakes made of the
first ears of corn plucked, as we saw, in the early days of May[608];
bakers and millers kept holiday, all mills were garlanded, and donkeys
decorated with wreaths and cakes[609].
Ecce coronatis panis dependet asellis
Et velant scabras florida serta molas.
On June 15 the temple (aedes, not templum) was swept and the refuse
taken away and either thrown into the Tiber or deposited in some
particular spot[610]. Then the _dies nefasti_ came to an end; and the
15th itself became _fastus_ as soon as the last act of cleansing had
been duly performed: ‘Quando stercus delatum fas.’
In this account of the ritual of these days, two features claim special
attention: (1) the duties of the Vestals in connexion with the provision
of food; (2) the fact that the days were _religiosi_, as is illustrated
by the prohibition of marriage and the mourning of the Flaminica Dialis.
That these two features were in some way connected seems proved by the
cessation of the mourning when the penus Vestae was once more closed.
1. It needs but little investigation to discover that, though the germ
of the cult was doubtless the perpetual fire in the king’s house, the
cult itself was by no means confined to attendance on the fire; and this
was so probably from the very first. The king’s daughters fetched the
water from the spring, both for sacred and domestic purposes; and this
duty was kept up throughout Roman history, for water was never ‘laid on’
to the house of the Vestals, but carried from a sacred fountain[611].
They also crushed the corn with pestle and mortar, and prepared the
cakes for the use of the family—duties which survived in all their
pristine simplicity in the preparation of the _mola salsa_ in the early
days of May[612]; and they swept the house, as the Vestals afterwards
continued to cleanse the penus Vestae, on June 15. The penus, or
store-closet of the house, was under their charge; on the state of its
contents the family depended for its comfort and prosperity, and from
the very outset it must have had a kind of sacred character[613]. The
close connexion of Vesta and her ministrants with the simple materials
and processes of the house and the farm is thus quite plain; and we may
trace it in every rite in which they took any part. The Fordicidia and
the Parilia in April were directly concerned with the flocks and herds
of the community; in May the festival of the Bona Dea and the mysterious
ceremony of the Argei point to the season of peril during the ripening
of the crops. After the Vestalia the Vestals were present at the
Consualia and the festival of Ops Consiva in August, which, as we shall
see, were probably harvest festivals; and on the Ides of October the
blood of the ‘October horse’ was deposited in their care for use at the
Fordicidia as a charm for fertility. So constant is the connexion of
Vesta with the fruits of the earth, that it is not surprising that some
Roman scholars[614] should have considered her an earth goddess;
especially as, in a volcanic region, the proper home of fire would be
thought to be beneath the earth. But such explanations, and also the
views of modern scholars who have sought to find in Vesta a deity of
abstract ideas, such as ‘the nourishing element in the fire’[615], are
really superfluous. The associations which grew up around the sacred
hearth-fire can all be traced to the original germ, if it be borne in
mind that the fire, the provision-store, and the protecting deities of
that store, were all placed together in the centre of the house, and
that all domestic operations, sacrificial or culinary, took place at or
by means of, the necessary fire. ‘What is home but another word for
cooking?’ Nor must we forget that the living fire was for primitive man
a mysterious thing, and invested from the first with divine
attributes[616].
2. The fact that from the 5th to the 15th the days were not only
_nefasti_ but also _religiosi_ is not easy to explain. It is true that
in two other months, February and April, we find a parallel series of
_dies nefasti_ in the first half of the month; in February it extended
from the Kalends to the Lupercalia (15th), and in April from the Nones
to the Vinalia (23rd)[617]. But these days in February and April were
_nefasti_ in the ordinary sense of the word, i. e. the cessation of
judicial business, and we are not told of them that they were also
_religiosi_, or that the Flaminica Dialis lay during them under any
special restrictions, as in the days we are speaking of. On the other
hand, we find to our surprise that the other days on which this
priestess was forbidden to comb hair or cut nails were not even
_nefasti_ in the ordinary sense, viz. those of the ‘moving’ of the
_ancilia_ and of the ceremony of the Argei[618]: so that we are baffled
at every point in looking for a solution to the calendar.
But there is one fact that is quite clear, namely, that the _tempus
nefastum_ was in some way or other the result of the purification of the
aedes Vestae, since it ceased at the moment the last act of cleansing
was completed. Now it does seem to be the case that among some peoples
living by agriculture but as yet comparatively uncivilized, special
importance is attached to the days immediately before harvest and the
gathering of the first-fruits—at which time there is a general cleaning
out of house, barns, and all receptacles and utensils, and following
upon this a period of rejoicing. Mr. Frazer, in his _Golden Bough_ has
collected some examples of this practice, though he has not brought them
together under one head or given them a single explanation. The most
striking, and at the same time the best attested, example is as
follows[619]:
‘Among the Creek Indians of North America, the _busk_, or festival of
firstfruits, was the chief ceremony of the year. It was held in July or
August, when the corn was ripe, and marked the end of the old year and
the beginning of the new one. Before it took place none of the Indians
would eat or even handle any of the new harvest.... Before celebrating
the Busk, the people provided themselves with new clothes and new
household utensils and furniture; they collected their old clothes and
rubbish, together with all the remaining grain and other old provisions,
cast them together in one common heap and consumed them with fire. As a
preparation for the ceremony all the fires in the village were
extinguished, and the ashes swept clean away. In particular the hearth
or altar of the temple was dug up, and the ashes carried out....
Meanwhile the women at home were cleaning out their houses, renewing the
old hearths, and scouring all the cooking vessels that they might be
ready to receive the new fire and the new fruits. The public or sacred
square was carefully swept of even the smallest crumbs of previous
feasts, for fear of polluting the first-fruit offerings. Also every
vessel that had contained any food during the expiring year was removed
from the temple before sunset.’ A general fast followed, we are told;
‘and when the sun was declining from the meridian, all the people were
commanded by the voice of a crier to stay within doors, to do no bad
act, and to be sure to extinguish and throw away every spark of the old
fire. Universal silence now reigned. Then the high priest made the new
fire by the friction of two pieces of wood, and placed it on the altar
under the green arbour. This new fire was believed to atone for all past
crimes except murder. Then a basket of new fruits was brought; the high
priest took out a little of each sort of fruit, rubbed it with bear’s
oil, and offered it together with some flesh to the bountiful spirit of
fire as a first-fruit offering and an annual oblation for sin....
Finally the chief priest made a speech, exhorting the people to observe
their old rites and customs, announcing that the new divine fire had
purged away the sins of the past year, and earnestly warning the women
that if any of them had not extinguished the old fire, or had contracted
any impurity, they must forthwith depart lest the divine fire should
spoil both them and the people.’
The four chief points in this very interesting account are, (1) the
extremely solemn and critical character of the whole ceremonial, as
indicated in the general fast; (2) the idea of the necessity of
purification preparatory to the reception of first-fruits, a
purification which seems to extend to human beings as well as to houses,
receptacles, and utensils; (3) the renewal of the sacred fire, which was
coincident with the beginning of a new year; (4) the solemn reception of
the first-fruits. Comparing these with Roman usage, we notice that the
first two are fully represented at the Vestalia, the one by the
religious character of the days, and the mourning of the Flaminica
Dialis, the other by the cleansing of the penus Vestae, and the careful
removal of all its refuse. The third is represented, not at the
Vestalia, but at the beginning of the year on March 1, when the sacred
fire was renewed, as we saw, in the primitive fashion by the friction of
two pieces of wood, and the temple of Vesta was adorned with fresh
laurels, as was the case also with the altar in the American example
just quoted. The fourth point is represented neither in March nor June,
but rather by the plucking of the first ears of corn by the Vestals
before the Ides of May, from which they made the sacred salt-cakes of
sacrifice.
Now we need not go the length of assuming that the Roman ceremonies of
March, May and June were three parts of one and the same rite which in
course of time had been separated and attached to different periods of
the year; though this indeed may not be wholly impossible. But we may at
least profitably notice that all the four striking features of the
Indian ceremony are found in the cult of Vesta, and descended no doubt
to the later Romans from an age in which both the crops, the fire and
the store-houses were regarded as having much the same sacred character
as they had for the Creek Indians.
To me indeed it had seemed probable, even before the publication of Mr.
Frazer’s _Golden Bough_, that the cleansing of the penus Vestae was
nothing but a survival of a general purification of store-houses, barns,
utensils, and probably of all the apparatus of farming, including
perhaps human beings, before the completion of the harvest which was now
close at hand. The date of the Vestalia is indeed too early to let us
suppose it to have been a real harvest festival, nor had it any of the
joyous character found in such rites; and, as we shall see, the true
harvest festivals are to be found in the month of August. The corn
harvest in middle Italy took place in the latter half of June and in
July[620]; and, as is everywhere still the practice, the festivals
proper did not occur until the whole work of harvesting was done. But at
the time of the Vestalia the crops were certainly ripening; in May we
have already had the plucking of the first ears by the Vestals, and the
_lustratio segetum_ which has been described under the head of
Ambarvalia on May 28.
I must leave to anthropologists the further investigation of the ideas
underlying the ritual we have been examining; it is something to have
been able to co-ordinate it with rites which are so well attested as
those of the Creek Indians, and which admit without difficulty of a
reasonable interpretation[621].
III ID. IUN. (JUNE 11). N.
MAT[RALIA]. (TUSC. VEN. MAFF.)
MATR[I] MATUT[AE]. (VEN.)
MATRALIA. (PHILOC.)
The temple of which this day was apparently the _dies natalis_ dated
from the Veientine War, 396 B.C., and was the result of a vow made by L.
Furius Camillus[622]. An earlier temple was attributed to Servius
Tullius; but it is extremely improbable that anything more than a
_sacellum_ or altar existed at such an early date[623]. The cult of
Mater Matuta was widely extended in Italy, and clearly of genuine and
ancient Italian origin; she can be separated with certainty from the
Greek goddess Leucothea with whom Ovid mixes her up, and from whom she
derived a connexion with harbours which did not originally belong to
her[624]. The evidence for the wide spread of her cult consists of (1)
two extremely old inscriptions from Pisaurum in Umbria, of which Mommsen
observes, ‘lingua meram vetustatem spirat’[625]; (2) certain
inscriptions and passages of Livy which prove that her worship existed
among the Volsci, in Campania, and at Praeneste[626]. At Satricum she
was apparently the chief deity of the place and probably also at Pyrgi,
the port of Caere in Etruria[627]. The cult seems to have had some
marked peculiarities, of which one or two fragments have come down to
us. Only the wife of a first marriage could deck the image of the
goddess[628]; no female slaves were allowed in the temple except one,
who was also driven out of it with a box on the ear, apparently as a
yearly recurring memorial of the rule[629]; the sacred cakes offered
were cooked in old-fashioned earthenware[630]; and, lastly, the women
are said to have prayed to this goddess for their nephews and nieces in
the first place, and for their own children only in the second[631]. All
that can be deduced from these fragments is that the Mater Matuta was an
ancient deity of matrons, and perhaps of the same type as other deities
of women such as Carmenta, Fortuna, and Bona Dea[632]. The best modern
authorities explain her as a goddess of the dawn’s light and of
child-birth, and see a parallel in Juno Lucina[633]; and Mommsen has
pointed out that the dawn was thought to be the lucky time for birth,
and that the Roman names Lucius and Manius have their origin in this
belief[634]. Lucretius shows us that in his day Mater Matuta was
certainly associated with the dawn[635]:
roseam Matuta per oras
Aetheris auroram differt et lumina pandit.
We should, however, be glad to be more certain that Matuta was
originally a substantive meaning dawn or morning. Verrius Flaccus[636]
seems to have believed that the words _mane_, _maturus_, _matuta_,
_manes_, and _mānus_, all had the meaning of ‘good’ contained in them;
so that Mater Matuta might after all be only another form of the Bona
Dea, who is also specially a woman’s deity. But this cult was not
preserved, like that of Vesta, by being taken up into the essential life
of the State, and we are no longer able to discern its meaning with any
approach to certainty.
It is noticeable that this day was, according to Ovid[637], the
dedication of a temple of Fortuna, also _in foro boario_: but no
immediate connexion can be discovered between this deity and Mater
Matuta. This temple was remarkable as containing a wooden statue, veiled
in drapery, which was popularly believed to represent Servius
Tullius[638], of whose connexion with Fortuna we shall have more to say
further on. No one, however, really knew what the statue was; Varro and
Pliny[639] write of one of Fortuna herself which was heavily draped, and
may have been the one in this temple. Pliny says that the statue of
Fortuna was covered with the _togae praetextae_ of Servius Tullius,
which lasted intact down to the death of Seianus; and it is singular
that Seianus himself is said to have possessed a statue of Fortuna which
dated from the time of Servius[640], and which turned its face away from
him just before his fall. Seianus was of Etruscan descent, we may
remember; Servius Tullius, or Mastarna, was certainly Etruscan; and
among Etruscan deities we find certain shrouded gods[641]. These facts
seem to suggest that the statue (or statues, if we cannot refer all the
passages above quoted to one statue) came from Etruria, and was on that
account a mystery both to the learned and the ignorant at Rome. To us it
must also remain unexplained[642].
ID. IUN. (JUNE 13). NP.
FERIAE IOVI. (VEN.)
IOVI. (TUSC.)
To these notes in the calendars we may add a few lines from Ovid:
Idibus Invicto sunt data templa Iovi.
Et iam Quinquatrus iubeor narrare minores:
Nunc ades o coeptis, flava Minerva, meis.
Cur vagus incedit tota tibicen in urbe?
Quid sibi personae, quid stola longa volunt?
All Ides, as we have seen, were sacred to Jupiter; they are so noted in
the surviving calendars in May, June, August, September, October and
November, and were probably originally so noted in all the months[643].
On this day the _collegium_ or guild of the tibicines feasted in the
temple of Jupiter Capitolinus[644]. The temple referred to by Ovid of
Jupiter Invictus as having been dedicated on this day may possibly have
been one of two mentioned by Livy as dedicated on the Capitol in B.C.
192[645]; but the coincidence of a dedication-day with the Ides may
perhaps suggest a higher antiquity[646].
For the right meaning and derivation of the word Quinquatrus the reader
is referred to what has been already said under March 19. June 13 was
usually called Quinquatrus minusculae, not because it was really
Quinquatrus (i. e. five days after the Ides), but because through the
feast of the tibicines it was associated with their patron Minerva[647],
in whose temple on the Aventine they met, apparently before they set out
on the revelling procession to which Ovid refers[648]. Varro makes this
clear when he writes ‘Quinquatrus minusculae dictae Iuniae Idus _ab
similitudine_ maiorum’[649], i. e. it was not really Quinquatrus, but
was popularly so called because the other festival of Minerva and her
followers bore that name. Verrius Flaccus was equally explicit on the
point: ‘Minusculae Quinquatrus appellantur quod is dies festus est
tibicinum, qui colunt Minervam cuius deae proprie festus dies est
Quinquatrus mense Martio’[650].
The revelry of the tibicines, during which they wore the masks and long
robes mentioned by Ovid, was explained by a story which the poet goes on
to tell, and which is told also by Livy and by Plutarch with some
variations[651]; how they fled to Tibur in anger at being deprived by
Appius Claudius the censor of their feast in the Capitol: how they were
badly missed at Rome, tricked and made drunk by a freedman at Tibur, and
sent home unconscious on a big waggon. The story is genuinely Roman in
its rudeness and in the rough humour which Ovid fully appreciates; the
favourite feature of a secession is seen in it, and also the peaceful
settlement of difficulties by compromise and contract. I see no reason
why it should not be the echo of an actual event, though in detail it is
obviously intended to explain the masks and the long robes. These are to
be seen represented on a coin of the gens Plautia[652], to which the
fierce censor’s milder colleague belonged, who negotiated the return of
the truants. Plutarch calls the ‘stolae longae’ women’s clothes; but it
is more natural to suppose that they were simply the dress of Etruscan
pipe-players of the olden time[653].
The story well shows the universal use of the _tibia_ in all sacred
rites; the tibicines were indispensable, and had to be got back from
Tibur by fair means or foul. As Ovid says:
Cantabat fanis, cantabat tibia ludis,
Cantabat maestis tibia funeribus.
The instrument was probably indigenous in Italy, and the only indigenous
one of which we know. ‘The word _tibia_,’ says Professor
Nettleship[654], ‘is purely Italian, and has, so far as I can find, no
parallel in the cognate languages.’ Müller, in his work on the
Etruscans, does indeed assume that the Roman tibicines were of Etruscan
origin, which would leave the Romans without any musical instrument of
their own. The probability may rather be that it was the general
instrument of old Italy, specially cultivated by the one Italian race
endowed with anything like an artistic temperament.
XII KAL. IUN. (JUNE 20). C.
SUMMAN[O] AD CIRC[UM] MAXIM[UM]. (VEN. ESQ. AMIT.)
To this note may be added that of Ovid[655]:
Reddita, quisquis is est, Summano templa feruntur,
Tum cum Romanis, Pyrrhe, timendus eras.
The date of the foundation of the temple of Summanus was probably
between 278 and 275 B.C.[656]; the foundation was the result of the
destruction by lightning, no doubt at night, of a figure of Jupiter on
the Capitol[657]. Who was this Summanus? Ovid’s language, _quisquis is
est_, shows that even in his time this god, like Semo Sancus, Soranus,
and others, had been fairly shouldered out of the course by more
important or pushing deities. In the fourth century A.D. S.
Augustine[658], well read in the works of Varro and the Roman
antiquarians, could write as follows: ‘Sicut enim apud ipsos legitur,
Romani veteres nescio quem Summanum, cui nocturna fulmina tribuebant,
coluerunt magis quam Iovem—sed postquam Iovi templum insigne ac sublime
constructum est, propter aedis dignitatem sic ad eum multitudo
confluxit, ut vix inveniatur, qui Summani nomen, quod audire iam non
potest, se saltem legisse meminerit.’ In spite of the decay and
disappearance of this god we may believe that the Christian Father has
preserved the correct tradition as to his nature when he tells us that
he was the wielder of the lightning _of the night_, or in other words a
nocturnal Jupiter. We do in fact find a much earlier statement to the
same effect traceable to Verrius Flaccus[659]. Varro also mentions him
and classes him with Veiovis, and with the Sabine deities whom he
believed to have been brought to Rome by Tatius[660]. There is, however,
no need to suppose with Varro that he was Sabine, or with Müller that he
was Etruscan[661]; the name is Latin and probably = Submanus, i. e. the
god who sends the lightning before the dawn.
It is interesting to find the wheel symbol here again, as is noticed by
Gaidoz in his _Studies of Gallic Mythology_[662]. We can hardly doubt
that the Summanalia which Festus explains as ‘liba farinacea in modum
rotae ficta[663]‘, were cakes offered or eaten on this day: it is hard
to see what other connexion they could have had. Mr. Arthur Evans has
some interesting remarks[664] on what seem to be moulds for making
religious cakes of this kind, found at Tarentum; they are decorated, not
only with the wheel or cross, but with many curious symbols. ‘It is
characteristic,’ he writes, ‘in a whole class of religious cakes that
they are impressed with a wheel or cross, and in other cases divided
into segments as if to facilitate distribution. This symbolical division
seems to connect itself _with the worship of the ancestral fire_ rather
than with any solar cult. In a modified form they are still familiar to
us as “hot-cross buns.”’ Summanus, however, does not seem to have had
anything to do with the ancestral fire.
VIII KAL. QUINCT. (JUNE 24). C.
FORTI FORTUNAE TRANS TIBER[IM] AD MILLIAR[IUM] PRIM[UM] ET SEXT[UM].
(AMIT.)
FORTIS FORTUNAE. (VEN. PHILOC.)
SACRUM FORTIS FORTUNAE. (RUST.)
Ovid writes of this day as follows[665]:
Ite, deam laeti Fortem celebrate, Quirites!
In Tiberis ripa munera regis habet.
Pars pede, pars etiam celeri decurrite cymba,
Nec pudeat potos inde redire domum.
Ferte coronatae iuvenum convivia lintres:
Multaque per medias vina bibantur aquas.
Plebs colit hanc, quia, qui posuit, de plebe fuisse
Fertur, et ex humili sceptra tulisse loco.
Convenit et servis; serva quia Tullius ortus
Constituit dubiae templa propinqua deae.
H. Peter, in his additional notes to Ovid’s _Fasti_[666], has one so
lucid on the subject of the temples of Fors Fortuna mentioned in this
passage that I cannot do better than reproduce it. ‘We find three
temples of the goddess mentioned, all of which lay on the further side
of the Tiber. The first was that of Servius Tullius mentioned by Varro
in the following passage[667]: “Dies Fortis Fortunae appellatus ab
Servio Tullio rege, quod is fanum Fortis Fortunae secundum Tiberim extra
urbem Romam dedicavit Iunio mense.” The second is one stated by
Livy[668] to have been built by the consul Spurius Carvilius in 460 B.C.
near the temple of Servius. The third is mentioned by Tacitus[669] as
having been dedicated at the end of the year 17 A.D. by Tiberius, also
on the further side of the Tiber in the gardens of Caesar. Of these
three temples the third does not concern us in dealing with Ovid’s
lines, because it was completed and dedicated long after the composition
of the sixth book of the _Fasti_, perhaps at a time when Ovid was
already dead; we have to do only with the first two. Now we find in the
_Fasti_ of Amiternum[670] the following note on the 24th of June: “Forti
Fortunae trans Tiberim ad milliarium primum et sextum”; and this taken
together with Ovid suggests that either besides the temple of Carvilius
there were two temples of Fors Fortuna attributed to Servius, or (and
this appears to me more probable) the temple of Carvilius itself was
taken for a foundation of Servius as it had the same dedication-day and
was in the same locality. In this way the difficulties may be solved.’ I
am disposed to accept the second suggestion of Peter’s; for, as Mommsen
has remarked[671], it is quite according to Roman usage that Carvilius
should have placed his temple close to a much more ancient _fanum_ of
the same deity; i. e. the principle of the locality of cults often held
good through many centuries.
Many cults of Fortuna were referred to Servius Tullius, but especially
this one, because, as Ovid says, it was particularly a festival of the
plebs of which he was the traditional hero; and also because it was open
to slaves, a fact which was naturally connected with the supposed
servile birth of this king. The jollity and perhaps looseness of the
occasion seemed to indicate a connexion between the lower stratum of
population and the worship of Fortuna: ‘On foot and in boats,’ says
Ovid, ‘the people enjoyed themselves even to the extent of getting
drunk.’ We are reminded in fact of the plebeian license of the festival
of Anna Perenna in March[672]. It is perhaps worth noting that on June
18 the calendar of Philocalus has the note _Annae Sacrum_, which
unluckily finds no corroboration from any other source. Whether it was
an early popular cult, whether it was connected in any way with that of
Fors Fortuna, and whether both or either of them had any immediate
relation to the summer solstice, are questions admitting apparently of
no solution.
It has rarely happened that any Roman cult has been discussed at length
in the English language, especially by scholars of unquestionable
learning and resource. But on the subject of Fortuna, and Fors Fortuna,
an interesting paper appeared some years ago by Prof. Max Müller in his
volume entitled _Biographies of Words_[673], which I have been at great
pains to weigh carefully. The skill and lucidity with which the
Professor’s arguments are, as usual, presented, make this an unusually
pleasant task.
He starts, we must note, with a method which in dealing with Italian
deities has been justly and emphatically condemned[674]; he begins with
an etymology in order to discover the nature of the deity, and goes on
to support this by selecting a few features from the various forms of
the cult. This method will not of course be dangerous, if the etymology
be absolutely certain; and absolute certainty, so far as our present
knowledge reaches, is indeed what the Professor claims for his. Though
we may doubt whether the science of Comparative Philology is as yet old
and sure enough to justify us in violating a useful principle in order
to pay our first attentions to its results, we may waive this scruple
for the present and take the etymology in this case at the outset.
The Professor alludes to the well-known and universally accepted
derivation of Fors and Fortuna from _ferre_, but rejects it: ‘I appeal
to those who have studied the biographies of similar Latin words,
whether they do not feel some misgiving about so vague and abstract a
goddess as “Dea quae fert,” the goddess who brings.’ But feeling the
difficulty that Fortuna may not indeed have been originally a deity at
all, but an abstract noun which became a deity, like Fides, Spes, &c.,
in which case his objection to the derivation from _ferre_ would not
apply, he hastens to remove it by trying to show from the early
credentials of Fortuna, that she did not belong to this latter class,
but has characteristics which were undoubtedly heaven-born. The process
therefore was this: the ordinary etymology, though quite possible, is
vague and does not seem to lead to anything; is there another to be
discovered, which will fulfil philological requirements and also tell us
something new about Fortuna? And are there any features to be found in
the cult which will bear out the new etymology when it is discovered?
He then goes on to derive the word from the Sanskrit root HAER, ‘to
glow,’ from which many names expressive of the light of day have come:
‘From this too comes the Greek Χάρις with the Χάριτες, the goddess of
morning; and from this we may safely derive _fors_, _fortis_, taking it
either as a mere contraction, or a new derivative, corresponding to what
in Sanskrit would be _Har-ti_, and would mean the brightness of the day,
the Fortuna _huiusce diei_.’
So much for the etymological argument; on which we need only remark, (1)
that while it may be perfectly possible in itself, it does not impugn
the possibility of the older derivation; (2) that it introduces an idea
‘bright,’ hardly less vague and unsubstantial than that conveyed by ‘the
thin and unmeaning name’ _she who brings or carries away_. When, indeed,
the Professor goes on, by means of this etymology, to trace Fortuna to a
concrete thing, viz. the dawn, he is really making a jump which the
etymology does not specifically justify. All he can say is that it would
be ‘a most natural name for the brightest of all goddesses, the dawn,
the morning, the day.’
He looks, however, for further justification of the etymology to the
cult and mythology of Fortuna. From among her many cult-names he selects
two or three which seem suitable. The first of these is Fortuna _huiusce
diei_. This Fortuna was, he tells us, like the Ushas of the Veda, ‘the
bright light of each day, very much like what we might call “Good
morning.”’ But as a matter of fact all we know of this Fortuna is that
Aemilius Paullus, the victor of Pydna, vowed a temple to her in which he
dedicated certain statues[675]; that Catulus, the hero of Vercellae, may
have repaired or rebuilt it, and that on July 30, the day of the latter
battle, there was a sacrifice at this temple[676]. Whatever therefore
was the origin of this cult (and it may date no further back than Pydna)
it seems to have been specially concerned, as its name implies, with the
events of particular famous days. It is pure guesswork to imagine that
its connexion with such days may have arisen from an older meaning, viz.
the _bright light of each day_. Nothing is more natural than the
_huiusce diei_, if we believe that this Fortuna simply represented
chance, that inexplicable power which appealed so strongly to the later
sceptical and Graecized Roman, and which we see in the majority of
cult-names by which Fortuna was known in the later Republic. The
advocate of the dawn-theory, on the other hand, has to account for the
total loss in the popular belief of the nature-meaning of the epithet
and cult—a loss which is indeed quite possible, but one which must
necessarily make the theory less obvious and acceptable than the
ordinary one.
Secondly, the Professor points out, that on June 11, the day of the
Matralia, Fortuna was worshipped coincidently with Mater Matuta—the
latter being, as he assumes beyond doubt, a dawn-goddess. But we have
already seen that this assumption is not a very certain one[677]; and we
may now add that the coincident worship must simply mean that two
temples had the same dedication-day, which may be merely
accidental[678].
But the chief argument is based on the cult of Fortuna Primigenia, ‘the
first-born of the gods,’ as he translates the word, in accordance with a
recent elaborate investigation of its meaning[679]. This cult does
indeed show very curious and interesting characters. It belonged
originally to Praeneste, where Fortuna was the presiding deity of an
ancient and famous oracle. Here have been found inscriptions to Fortuna,
‘DIOVO[S] FILEA[I] PRIMOGENIA[I],’ the first-born daughter of
Jupiter[680]. Here also, strange to say, Cicero describes[681] an
enclosure sacred to Jupiter Puer, who was represented there with Juno as
sitting in the lap of Fortuna ‘mammam appetens.’ This very naturally
attracted Prof. Max Müller’s keenest attention, and he had no difficulty
in finding his explanation: Fortuna is ‘the first-born of all the bright
powers of the sky, and the daughter of the sky; but likewise from
another point of view the mother of the daily sun who is the bright
child she carries in her arms.’ This is charming; but it is the language
and thought, not of ancient Italians, but of Vedic poets. The great
Latin scholar, who had for years been soaking his mind in Italian
antiquities, will hardly venture on an explanation at all: ‘haud ignarus
quid deceat eum qui Aboriginum regiones attingat[682].’
I shall have occasion later on[683] to say something of this very
interesting and mysterious cult at Praeneste. At present I must be
content with pointing out that it is altogether unsafe to regard it as
representative of any general ideas of ancient Italian religion. As
Italian archaeologists are aware, Praeneste was a city in which Etruscan
and Greek influences are most distinctly traceable, and in which foreign
deities and myths seem to have become mixed up with native ones, to the
extreme bewilderment of the careful inquirer[684]. We may accept the
Professor’s explanation of it with all respect as a most interesting
hypothesis, but as no more than a hypothesis which needs much more
information than we as yet possess to render it even a probable one.
By his own account the Professor would not have been led so far afield
for an explanation of Fortuna if he had not been struck by the apparent
difficulty involved in such a goddess as ‘she who brings.’ Towards the
removal of this difficulty, however, the late Mr. Vigfusson did
something in a letter to the _Academy_ of March 17, 1888[685]. He
equated Fors and Fortuna with the Icelandic _buror_, from a verb having
quite as wide and general a meaning as _fero_, and being its
etymological equivalent. ‘There is a department of its meanings,’ he
tells us, ‘through which runs the notion of an invisible, passive,
sudden, involuntary, chance agency’; and another, in which _bera_ means
to give birth, and produces a noun meaning birth, and so lucky birth,
honour, &c. The two ideas come together in the Norse notion of the Norns
who presided at the birth of each child, shaping at that hour the
child’s fortune[686].
It is rather to the ideas of peoples like the early Teutons and Celts
that we must look for mental conditions resembling those of the early
Italians, than to the highly developed poetical mythology of the Vedas;
and it is in the direction which Mr. Vigfusson pointed out that I think
we should search for the oldest Italian ideas of Fortuna and for the
causes which led to her popularity and development. In a valuable paper,
to which I shall have occasion to refer again, Prof. Nettleship[687]
suggested that Carmenta (or Carmentes) may be explained with S.
Augustine[688] as the goddess or prophetess who tells the fortunes of
the children, and that this was the reason why she was especially
worshipped by matrons, like Mater Matuta, Fortuna and others. The
Carmentes were in fact the Norns of Italy. Such a practical need as the
desire to know your child’s fortunes would be quite in harmony with what
we know of the old Italian character; and I think it far from impossible
that Fortuna, as an oracular deity in Italy, may have been originally a
conception of the same kind, perhaps not only a prophetess as regards
the children, but also of the good luck of the mother in childbirth.
Perhaps the most striking fact in her multifarious cults is the
predominance in them of women as worshippers. Of the very Fortuna
Primogenia of whom we have been speaking Cicero tells us that her
ancient home at Praeneste was the object of the special devotion of
mothers[689]. The same was the case with Fortuna Virilis, Muliebris,
Mammosa, and others.
If we look at her in this light, there is really no difficulty in
understanding why what seems to us at first sight a very vague
conception, ‘the goddess who brings,’ should not have meant something
very real and concrete to the early Italian mind. And again, if that be
so, if Fortuna be once recognized as a great power in ways which touched
these essential and practical needs of human nature, we may feel less
astonishment at finding her represented either as the daughter or the
mother of Jupiter. Such representation could indeed hardly have been the
work of really primitive Italians; it arose, one may conjecture, if not
from some confusion which we cannot now unravel, from the fame of the
oracle—one of the very few in Italy—and the consequent fame of the
goddess whose name came to be attached to that oracle. Or, as Jordan
seems to think, it may have been the vicinity of the rock-oracle to the
temple of Jupiter which gave rise to the connexion between the two in
popular belief; a belief which was expressed in terms of relationship,
perhaps under Greek influence, but certainly in a manner for the most
part absent from the unmythological Italian religion. Why indeed in the
same place she should be mother as well as daughter of Jupiter (if
Cicero be accurate in his account, which is perhaps not quite certain)
may well puzzle us all. Those who cannot do without an explanation may
accept that of Prof. Max Müller, if they can also accept his etymology.
Those who have acquired what Mommsen has called the ‘difficillima ars
nesciendi,’ will be content with Jordan’s cautious remark, ‘Non desunt
vestigia divinum numen Italis notum fuisse deis deabusve omnibus et hoc
ipso in quo vivimus mundo antiquius[690].’
But Fortuna has not only been conjectured to be a deity of the dawn; she
has been made out to be both a moon-goddess and a sun-goddess. For her
origin in the moon there is really nothing of any weight to be urged;
the advocate of this view is one of the least judicious of German
specialists, and his arguments need not detain us[691]. But for her
connexion with the sun there is something more to be said.
The dedication day of the temple of Fors Fortuna was exactly at the
summer solstice. It is now St. John the Baptist’s day, and one on which
a great variety of curious local customs, some of which still survive,
regularly occur; and especially the midsummer fires which were until
recently so common in our own islands. Attention has often been drawn to
the fondness for parallelism which prompted the early Christians to
place the birth of Christ at the winter solstice, when the days begin to
grow longer, and that of the Baptist—for June 24 is his reputed birthday
as well as festival—at the summer solstice when they begin to shorten;
following the text, ‘He must increase and I must decrease[692].’
Certainly the sun is an object of special regard at all midsummer
festivals, and is supposed to be often symbolized in them by a wheel,
which is set on fire and in many cases rolled down a hill[693]. Now the
wheel is of course a symbol in the cult of Fortuna, and is sometimes
found in Italian representations of her, though not so regularly as the
cornucopia and the ship’s rudder which almost invariably accompany
her[694]. Putting this in conjunction with the date of the festival of
Fors Fortuna, the Celtic scholar Gaidoz has concluded that Fortuna was
ultimately a solar deity[695]. The solar origin of the symbol was, he
thinks, quite forgotten; but the wheel, or the globe which sometimes
replaces it, was certainly at one time solar, and perhaps came from
Assyria. If so (he concludes), the earliest form of Fortuna must have
been a female double of the sun.
All hints are useful in Roman antiquities, and something may yet be made
of this. But it cannot be accepted until we are sure of the history and
descent of this symbol in the representations of Fortuna; it is far from
impossible that the wheel or globe may in this case have nothing more to
do with the sun than the rudder which always accompanies it. In any case
it can hardly be doubted that it is not of Italian origin; it is found,
e. g. also in the cult of Nemesis, who, like Tyche, Eilithyia, and
Leucothea, is probably responsible for much variation and confusion in
the worship of Italian female deities[696]. As to the other fact adduced
by Gaidoz, viz. the date of the festival, it is certainly striking, and
must be given its full weight. It is surprising that Prof. Max Müller
has made no use of it. But we must be on our guard. It is remarkable
that we find in the Roman calendars no other evidence that the Romans
attached the same importance to the summer solstice as some other
peoples; the Roman summer festivals are concerned, in accordance with
the true Italian spirit, much more with the operations of man in dealing
with nature than with the phenomena of nature taken by themselves. It is
perhaps better to avoid a hasty conclusion that this festival of Fors
Fortuna was on the 24th because the 24th was the end of the solstice,
and rather to allow the equal probability that it was fixed then because
harvest was going on. Columella seems to be alluding to it in the
following lines[697]:
Sed cum maturis flavebit messis aristis
Allia cum cepis, cereale papaver anetho
Iungite, dumque virent, nexos deferte maniplos,
Et celebres Fortis Fortunae dicite laudes
Mercibus exactis, hilaresque recurrite in hortos.
The power of Fortuna as a deity of chance would be as important for the
perils of harvest as for those of childbirth; and it is in this
connexion that the Italians understood the meaning of that cornucopia
which is perhaps her most constant symbol in art[698].
Lastly, there is a formidable question, which may easily lead the unwary
into endless complications, and on which I shall only touch very
briefly. How are we to explain the legendary connexion between the cult
of Fortuna and Servius Tullius? That king, the so-called second founder
of Rome, was said, as we have seen, to have erected more than one
sanctuary to Fortuna, and was even believed to have had illicit dealings
with the goddess herself[699]. The dedication-day of Fors Fortuna was
said to have been selected by him, and, as Ovid describes it, was a
festival of the poorer kind of people, who thus kept up the custom
initiated by the popular friend of the plebs.
Since the Etruscan origin of Servius Tullius has been placed beyond a
doubt by the discovery of the famous tomb at Vulci, with the paintings
of Cales Vibenna released from his bonds by Mastarna[700], which has
thus confirmed the Etruscan tradition of the identity of Mastarna and
Servius preserved by the emperor Claudius in his famous speech[701], it
would seem that we may consider it as highly probable that if Servius
did really institute the cult of Fortuna at Rome, that cult came with
him from Etruria. This by no means compels us to look on Fortuna as an
Etruscan deity only; but it seems to be a fact that there was an
Etruscan goddess who was recognized by the Romans as the equivalent of
their Fortuna[702]. This was Nortia, a great deity at Volsinii, as is
fully proved by the remains found there[703]; and we may note that the
city was near to and in close alliance with Vulci, where the tomb was
found containing the paintings just alluded to. Seianus, a native of
Volsinii[704], was supposed to be under the protection of this deity,
and, as we have already seen, to possess an ancient statue of her.
In her temple a nail was driven every year as in the temple of Jupiter
Capitolinus[705], and hence some have concluded that she was a goddess
of time. It cannot, however, be regarded as certain whether this
nail-driving was originally symbolical only, or at all, of time; it may
quite as well remind us of the famous Fortuna of Antium and the ‘clavos
trabales’ of Horace’s Ode[706]. However this may be, it is a fair guess,
though it must be made with hesitation, that the Fortuna of Servius was
the equivalent of this Nortia, to whom the Roman plebs gave a name with
which they were in some way already familiar. Mastarna continued to
worship his native deity after he was settled in Rome; and the plebs
continued to revere her, not because of his luck, which was indeed
imperfect, but simply because she was his protectress[707]. If we try to
get beyond this we lose our footing; and even this is only conjecture,
though based upon evidence which is not entirely without weight.
Footnote 505:
What can be said for this view may be read in Roscher’s article in
_Lex._ s. v. Iuno, p. 575, note.
Footnote 506:
Roscher’s treatment of Juno Moneta (_Lex._ s. v. Iuno, 593) seems to
me pure fancy; this writer is apt to twist his facts and his
inferences to suit a prepossession—in this case the notion of a ἱερὸς
γάμος of Jupiter and Juno.
Footnote 507:
Liv. 7. 28; Ovid, _Fasti_, 6. 183; Macrob. 1. 12. 30.
Footnote 508:
On this point see Lewis, _Credibility of Early Roman Hist._ vol. ii.
345.
Footnote 509:
Dionys., 13. 7, says, Χῆνες ἱεροὶ περὶ τὸν νεὼν τῆς Ἥρας; but this is
no evidence for an early _temple_ of Juno Moneta.
Footnote 510:
Apparently she was fond of such birds: crows also were ‘in tutela
Iunonis’ at a certain spot north of the Tiber (Paul. 64), and at
Lanuvium (Preller, i. 283).
Footnote 511:
Liv. 6. 20.
Footnote 512:
I have assumed that _Moneta_ is connected with _moneo_; but there are
other views (Roscher, _Lex._ 593). Livius Andronicus (ap. Priscian, p.
679) helps us to the meaning by translating Μνημοσύνη (of the
_Odyssey_) by _Moneta_.
Footnote 513:
Macrob. _Sat._ 1. 12. 22 and 31. There was no temple of Carna there
but Tertullianus (_ad Nat._ 2. 9) mentions a _fanum_.
Footnote 514:
Cp. also the explanation from _iuniores_ (e. g. in Ovid, _Fasti_, 6.
83 foll.).
Footnote 515:
Macrob. 1. 12. 33 ‘Cui pulte fabacia et larido sacrificatur.’
Footnote 516:
Even in the fourth century A.D. this was so: see the calendar of
Philocalus.
Footnote 517:
Colum. II. 2. 20; Pallad. 7. 3; Hartmann, _Das Röm. Kal._ 135.
Footnote 518:
_H. N._ 18. 117.
Footnote 519:
See above on Lemuria, p. 110.
Footnote 520:
_de Feriis_, xiii.
Footnote 521:
_C. I. L._ iii. 3893.
Footnote 522:
There is really nothing in common between the two: see Wissowa in
_Lex._ s. v. Carna, following Merkel, clxv. What the real etymology of
Carna may be is undecided; Curtius and others have connected it with
_cor_, and on this O. Gilbert has built much foolish conjecture (ii.
19 foll.). I would rather compare it with the words Garanus or
Recaranus of the Hercules legend (Bréal, _Herc. et Cacus_, pp. 59,
60), and perhaps with Gradivus, Grabovius. The name of the ‘nymph’
Cranae in Ovid’s account is in some MSS. Grane or Crane. H. Peter
(_Fasti_, pt. ii. p. 89) adopts the connexion with _caro_: she is ‘die
das Fleisch kräftigende Göttin’ (cp. Ossipago).
Footnote 523:
_Fasti_, 6. 169-182. Lines 101-130 are concerned with Cardea; 130 to
168, or the middle section of the comment, seem, as Marquardt
suggested (p. 13, note), to be referable to Carna (as the averter of
_striges_), though the charms fixed on the _postes_ show that Ovid is
still confounding her with Cardea.
Footnote 524:
The word _strix_ is Greek, or at least identical with the Greek word.
But the belief in vampires is so widely spread (cf. Tylor, _Prim.
Cult._ ii. 175 foll.) that we must not conclude hastily that it came
to Italy with the Greeks: it is met with as early as Plautus (_Pseud._
3. 2. 20). Cf. Pliny, _H. N._ 11. 232.
Footnote 525:
_Fasti_, 6. 155 foll.
Footnote 526:
The _arbutus_ does not seem to be mentioned in connexion with charms
except in this passage; we might have expected the laurel. Bötticher,
_Baumkultus_, 324.
Footnote 527:
The sucking-pig is sacrificed, as we gather from _prosecta_ below; i.
e. to Carna: cp. the cakes of _lard_ eaten this day (169 foll.).
Footnote 528:
Cp. in the process of ghost-laying (above, p. 109) the prohibition to
look at the beans scattered.
Footnote 529:
For the blackthorn (Germ. _Weissdorn_) see Bötticher, _Baumkultus_,
361. Varro, ap. Charisium, p. 117 ‘fax ex spinu alba praefertur, quod
purgationis causa adhibetur.’
Footnote 530:
This is the passage that must have inspired O. Crusius in his paper on
beans in _Rhein. Mus._ xxxix. 164 foll. ‘Beans,’ he says, ‘were the
oldest Italian food, and like stone knives, &c., survived in ritual.’
We want, indeed, some more definite proof that they were really the
oldest food; and anyhow their use had not died out like that of stone
implements. They were a common article of food at Athens: Aristoph.
_Knights_, 41; _Lysist._ 537 and 691. But it is not unlikely that
their use in the cult of the dead may be a survival, upon which odd
superstitions grafted themselves. For a parallel argument see Roscher,
_Nektar und Ambrosia_, 36; Rhys, _Celtic Mythology_, 356.
Footnote 531:
_Sat._ 1. 12. 32.
Footnote 532:
No safe conclusion can be drawn from Tertullian’s inclusion (_ad Nat._
2. 9) of the _fanum_ of Carna on the Caelian among those of _di
adventicii_. O. Gilbert has lately tried to make much of this (ii. 42
foll.), and to find an Etruscan origin for Carna: but see Aust on the
position of temples outside the _pomoerium_ (_de Aedibus sacris_, 47).
Footnote 533:
Liv. 7. 23; Dionys. 6. 13.
Footnote 534:
See on March 1, above, p. 37.
Footnote 535:
Aust, _de Aedibus sacris_, p. 8. The _Fasti Venusini_ are ‘omnium
accuratissimi’; ib. p. 43. Aust goes so far as to doubt the true Roman
character of this Mars, and believes him to be the Greek god Ares. See
his note in _Lex._ 2391. The date of foundation is not certain, but
was probably not earlier than the Gallic war, 388 B.C., if it is this
to which Livy alludes in 6. 5. 8.
Footnote 536:
Liv. 10. 19. There was a tradition that Ap. Claudius, _Cos._ 495 B.C.,
had dedicated statues of his ancestors in a temple of Bellona (Pliny,
_N. H._ 35. 12).
Footnote 537:
Serv. _Aen._ ix. 53.
Footnote 538:
Liv. 1. 32. 12; Marq. 422.
Footnote 539:
Ovid, _Fasti_, 6. 205 foll.; Paulus, 33.
Footnote 540:
Willems, _Le Sénat de la République_, ii. 161.
Footnote 541:
This was originally suggested by Gellius (13. 23), ‘perhaps not
without some reason,’ says Marquardt (75). This suggestion has grown
almost into a certainty for the writer in the _Lexicon_, in a manner
very characteristic of the present age of research. There would be
some reason to think that Bellona (or Duellona) was an ancient goddess
of central Italy, if we could be sure that the inscription on an
ancient cup, in the museum at Florence, which may be read ‘Belolae
poculum’ (_C. I. L._ i. 44), refers to this deity. See _Lex._ s. v.
Belola.
Footnote 542:
Ovid, _Fasti_, 6. 209. See _Commentarii in honorem Th. Mommseni_, 262
foll. (Klügmann), and R. Peter in _Lex._ s. v. Herc. p. 2979.
Footnote 543:
Preller-Jordan, ii. 296.
Footnote 544:
See below, p. 146.
Footnote 545:
9. 60, where Ζεὺς Πίστιος = Dius Fidius.
Footnote 546:
4. 58: cp. Liv. 8. 20; Aust, _de Aedibus sacris_, p. 51. Of the porta
Sanqualis I shall have a word to say presently.
Footnote 547:
Mr. Lang (_Myth, Ritual_, &c., ii. 191) has some excellent remarks on
this subject.
Footnote 548:
_Fasti_, 6. 213.
Footnote 549:
See Wordsworth’s _Fragments and Specimens of Early Latin_, p. 157
‘Semunes alternos advocapit cunctos.’ I follow Jordan’s explanation of
‘Semunes,’ in _Krit. Beiträge_, 204 foll.
Footnote 550:
Aelius Dium Fidium dicebat Diovis filium, ut Graeci Διόσκορον
Castorem, et putabat hunc esse Sancum ab Sabina lingua et Herculem a
Graeca’ (Varro, _L. L._ 5. 66).
Footnote 551:
Festus, 241. This is probably the _sacellum_ of Livy, 8. 22.
Footnote 552:
_C. I. L._ vi. 568: again (ib. 567), ‘Semoni Sanco deo fidio.’ Sancus
is, of course, a name, not an adjective: we find Sangus in some MSS.
of Livy, 32. 1. For the well-known curious confusion with Simon Magus,
Euseb. _H. E._ 2. 13.
Footnote 553:
Bréal, _Tables Eugubines_, 71; Bücheler, _Umbrica_, 65 foll. As
Preller remarks, Fisus stands to Fidius as Clausus to Claudius (ii.
271). At Iguvium there was a hill, important in the rites, which bore
this name—_ocris fisius_.
Footnote 554:
Aelius Stilo ap. Varro, l. c.; Ovid, l. c.; Propert. 4. 9. 74;
Lactantius, 1. 15. 8; Schwegler, _R. G._ i. 364; Preller, ii. 272; O.
Gilbert, i. 275, note; Ambrosch, _Studien_, 170. Jordan, however, in a
note on Preller (273) emphatically says that the Sabine origin of the
god is a fable; and for the illusory distinction between Latins and
Sabines in Rome see Mommsen, _R. H._ i. 67, note, and Bréal, _Hercule
et Cacus_, p. 56. Sancus was no doubt a Sabine deity and reputed
ancestor of the race (Cato ap. Dionys. 2. 49: cp. 4. 58); but it does
not follow that he came to Rome as a Sabine importation.
Footnote 555:
Varro, _L. L._ 5. 66; Festus, 229 (Propter viam); and Paulus, 147
(medius fidius).
Footnote 556:
Cp. Plutarch, _Quaest. Rom._ 28 (‘Why are boys made to go out of the
house when they wish to swear by Hercules?‘) with Varro, ap. Nonium,
s. v. _rituis_, and _L. L._ 5. 66.
Footnote 557:
See below on Sept. 13, p. 231. The silex was taken out of the temple
of Jupiter Feretrius (Paulus, 92).
Footnote 558:
Eustath. ad _Od._ 22. 335; Hermann, _Gr. Ant._ ii. 74. Cp. A. Lang,
_Myth_, &c. ii. 54: ‘the sky hears us,’ said the Indian when taking an
oath.
Footnote 559:
Dionys. 1. 40.
Footnote 560:
See the opinions of Hartung, Schwegler, and Preller, summed up by
Bréal, _Hercule et Cacus_, 51 foll.; and R. Peter in _Lex._ s. v.
Hercules, 2255 foll.
Footnote 561:
Robertson Smith, _Religion of the Semites_, p. 233.
Footnote 562:
Bücheler, _Umbrica_, 7; Bréal, _Tables Eugubines_, 270.
Footnote 563:
Preller, ii. 273, and Jordan’s note. In M. Gaidoz’s _Études de
Mythologie Gauloise_, i. 64, will be found figures of a hand holding a
wheel, from Bar-le-Duc (the wrist thrust through one of the holes),
which may possibly explain the _urfita_, and which he connects with
the Celtic sun-god. In this connexion we may notice the large series
of Umbrian and Etruscan coins with the six-rayed wheel-symbol
(Mommsen, _Münzwesen_, 222 foll.), which, as Professor Gardner tells
me, is more probably a sun-symbol than merely the chariot-wheel
convenient for unskilful coiners.
Footnote 564:
8. 20.
Footnote 565:
For the bird, Plin. _N. H._ 10. 20; Festus, 197 s. v. _oscines_, and
317 (_sanqualis avis_). Bouché-Leclercq, _Hist. de la Divination_, iv.
200. For the gate cp. Paulus, 345, with Liv. 8. 20; Jordan, _Topogr._
ii. 264.
Footnote 566:
Liv. 41. 13, with Weissenborn’s note. The stone was perhaps the same
as one which had shortly before fallen into the grove of Mars at
Crustumerium (41. 9).
Footnote 567:
_C. I. L._ vi. 567. 568; and _Bull. dell’Inst._, 1881, p. 38 foll.
(This last with a statue, which, however, may not belong to it:
Jordan’s note on Preller, ii. 273.) Wilmanns, _Exempla Inscr. Lat._
1300.
Footnote 568:
Marq. 263; B.-Leclercq, iv. 51 foll. The Scholiast on Persius, 2. 27,
is explicit on the point. But Deecke, in a note to Müller’s _Etrusker_
(ii. 275) doubts the connexion of the _decuria_ with _bidental =
puteal_.
Footnote 569:
Festus, s. v. Scribonianum (p. 333: the restoration can hardly be
wrong) ‘[quia ne]fas est integi, semper ibi forami[ne aper]to caelum
patet.’
Footnote 570:
_L. L._ 5. 66 ‘ut ea videatur divum, id est caelum.’ He connects the
word _divum_ with _Dius_ Fidius. See Jordan in the collection of
essays ‘in honorem Th. Mommseni,’ p. 369.
Footnote 571:
Martianus Capella, 1. 45 (p. 47 in Eyssenhardt’s edition). See
Nissen’s explanation in _Das Templum_, p. 184, and plate iv. In this
account Jupiter occupies the chief place: Sancus is there, alone in
the 12th _regio_. But doubt has been cast on Nissen’s view by the
discovery of an actual representation of the _caeli templum_ (see
Aust, in _Lex._ s. v. Iupiter, 668).
Footnote 572:
Dionys. 4. 58. In 9. 60 he says that this temple was only vowed by
Tarquinius, and not dedicated till 466 B.C. (Aust, _de Aedibus
sacris_, p. 6); but there must have been a still earlier sanctuary of
some kind (Livy writes of a _sacellum_, 8. 20. 8). Dionysius is
interesting and explicit; he calls Dius Fidius Ζεὺς Πίστιος, and adds
the name Σάγκος. The treaties next in date, those with Carthage, were
kept in the aedilium thesaurus, close to the temple of Jupiter
Capitolinus (Polyb. 3. 22; Mommsen, _Staatsrecht_, ii. 1 (ed. 2) 481
note). Here we seem to see the authority of the ancient Dius Fidius
already losing ground.
Footnote 573:
Plut. _Quaest. Rom._ 30; Varro, ap. Plin. _N. H._ 8. 194; Festus, 238.
It was Reifferscheid’s conjecture that she was a female Dius Fidius
(see Wissowa, _Lex._ 1190). Fest. 241 adds ‘cuius ex zona
periclitantes ramenta sumunt.’
Footnote 574:
_Bull. dell’ Inst._, 1867, 352 foll. Reifferscheid was prevented by
death from working his view out more fully; but R. Peter (see _Lex._
s. v. Hercules, 2267) preserved notes of his lectures.
Footnote 575:
Gellius, 11. 6. 1. For Juno as female equivalent of Genius see article
‘Iunones’ in _Lex._ But it does not seem proved that this was the old
name, and not an idea of comparatively late times.
Footnote 576:
Seneca, _Ep._ 12. 2.
Footnote 577:
See below, on Aug. 12, p. 194.
Footnote 578:
This seems a weak point. Bona Dea was not more closely related to Juno
than some others. I do not feel sure that the name Juno is not as much
an intrusion here as Hercules, and that the real female counterpart of
Genius, &c., was not a nameless _numen_ like the Bona Dea. The rise of
the cult of Juno Lucina may have produced this intrusion. It is worth
noting that in Etruria Minerva takes the place of Juno _(Lex._ 2266,
and the illustration on 2267).
Footnote 579:
Serv. _Ecl._ 4. 62.
Footnote 580:
Paulus, 63.
Footnote 581:
Gerhard, _Etruskische Spiegel_, 147. It is also figured in _Lex._ s.
v. Hercules, 2259.
Footnote 582:
e. g. by every writer in Roscher’s _Lexicon_ who has touched on the
subject. Jordan seems to have dissented (Preller, ii. 284).
Footnote 583:
The opposition or conflict of the two is paralleled by the supposed
myth of the contention of Mars and Minerva (Nerio) (see above, p. 60;
_Lex._ 2265).
Footnote 584:
See article ‘Iunones’ in _Lex._; and De-Marchi, _La Religione nella
vita domestica_, p. 70.
Footnote 585:
Roscher’s article ‘Juno’ in _Lex._ passim.
Footnote 586:
I cannot agree with Mr. Jevons (_Introduction to History of Religion_,
p. 186 foll.) when he makes the Roman genius a relic of totemism,
simply because _genii_ were often represented by serpents. The snake
was too universally worshipped and domesticated to be easily explained
as a totem. Mr. Frazer has an interesting example from Zululand, which
is singularly suggestive in connexion with the doctrine of Genius (see
_Golden Bough_, ii. 332), which can hardly be explained on a
totemistic basis. The doctrine of Genius may certainly have had its
roots in a totemistic age; but by the time it reaches us in Roman
literature it has passed through so many stages that its origin is not
to be dogmatized about.
Footnote 587:
I cannot attach much weight to the argument (see _Lex._ 2268) that
because Aelius Stilo explained Dius Fidius as Diovis Filius he
therefore had in his head some such relation of Genius to Jupiter.
Footnote 588:
If he had written Genius _Iovius_, after the manner of the Iguvian
inscription, with its adjectival forms which preserve a reminiscence
of the older spirit-world, he might have been nearer the mark. It may
be that we get back to Jupiter himself as the Genius _par excellence_,
but there is no direct proof of this. The genius of a god is a late
idea, as Mr. Jevons points out in a note to _Roman Questions_, p.
liii.
Footnote 589:
Livy, 22. 9; Ovid, _Fasti_, 6. 241 foll.; Aust, _de Aedibus sacris_,
p. 19.
Footnote 590:
Livy, 23. 31 and 32; Marq. 270.
Footnote 591:
Marq. 358 foll.; Article ‘Sibyllini libri’ in _Dict. of Antiquities_,
ed. 2.
Footnote 592:
Livy, 22. 9, 10; 23. 30, 31.
Footnote 593:
Ad _Aen._ 1. 720.
Footnote 594:
Plut. _de Fort. Rom._ 5. 10; Cic. _Nat. Deor._ 2. 61. Aust (_de
Aedibus sacris_, p. 19) puts it in B.C. 115, in Scaurus’ consulship.
Footnote 595:
Ovid, _Fasti_, 6. 219 foll.; Festus, 250, s. v. _Penus_: ‘[Penus
vo]catur locus intimus in aede Vestae, tegetibus saeptus, qui certis
diebus circa Vestalia aperitur. Ii dies religiosi habentur.’
Footnote 596:
For the meanings of _nefastus_ and _religiosus_ see Introduction, p.
9; Marq. 291.
Footnote 597:
No doubt this was done, and the lines composed, in order to please
Augustus and reflect the revival of the old _religio_.
Footnote 598:
Varro, _L. L._ 6. 32.
Footnote 599:
Vol. xiv, No. 28.
Footnote 600:
p. 53.
Footnote 601:
Marq. 250. In the Andaman Islands both sons and daughters take part in
the work of maintaining the fires (Man’s _Andaman Islands_, quoted by
Mr. Frazer, op. cit. p. 153).
Footnote 602:
See my article ‘Sacerdos’ in _Dict. of Antiquities_, ed. 2.
Footnote 603:
Vesta herself was originally simply the fire on the hearth (Frazer,
op. cit. 152). Note that the flame was obtained afresh each year on
March 1, even in historical times, by the primitive method of the
friction of the wood of a ‘lucky’ tree (Festus, 106), or from the
sun’s rays. We are not told which priest performed this rite.
Footnote 604:
Middleton, _Rome in 1885_, p. 181 foll.
Footnote 605:
This belief, and the nature of the treasures, are fully discussed by
Marquardt, p. 251, with additions by Wissowa.
Footnote 606:
Cp. Petronius, _Sat._ 44 (of the aquaelicium).
Footnote 607:
_Fasti_, 6. 395 foll.
Footnote 608:
Above, p. 110.
Footnote 609:
As the beast that usually worked in mills? There is a Pompeian
painting of this scene (Gerhard, _Ant. Bild._ pl. 62).
Footnote 610:
Varro, _L. L._ 6. 32 ‘Dies qui vocatur Q. St. D. F. ab eo appellatur
quod eo die ex aede Vestae stercus everritur et per Capitolinum clivum
in locum defertur certum.’ It is Ovid who tells us it was thrown into
the Tiber (_Fasti_, 6. 713).
Footnote 611:
Jordan, _Tempel der Vesta_, p. 63.
Footnote 612:
The crushing of the grain no doubt comes down from a time when there
were no mills (Helbig, _Italiker in der Poebene_, 17 and 72). The
preparation of the cakes was also peculiar, and even that of the salt
which was used in them (Festus, 159; cp. Serv. _Ecl._ 8. 82). The
latter passage is the _locus classicus_ for all these duties:
‘Virgines Vestales tres maximae ex nonis Maiis ad pridie Idus Maias
alternis diebus (i. e. on 7th, 9th, 11th?) spicas adoreas in corbibus
messuariis ponunt, easque spicas ipsae virgines torrent, pinsunt,
molunt, atque ita molitum condunt. Ex eo farre virgines ter in anno
molam faciunt, Lupercalibus, Vestalibus, Idibus Septembribus, adiecto
sale cocto et sale duro.’ For examples of the primitive method of
cooking see Miss Kingsley’s _Travels in West Africa_, p. 208; and Sir
Joseph Banks’s _Journal_ (ed. Hooker), p. 137.
Footnote 613:
_Penus_ means, in the first instance, food. Cic. _Nat. Deorum_, 2. 68
‘Est omne quo vescuntur homines penus.’ Hence it came to mean the
store-closet in the centre of the house, of which the Penates were the
guardian spirits. Its sacred character is indicated in a passage of
Columella (_R. R._ 12. 4; and see my paper on the _toga praetexta_ of
Roman children, in _Classical Review_, Oct. 1896).
Footnote 614:
Varro, ap. S. Aug. _de Civ._ 7. 24; cp. 7. 16. Ovid, _Fasti_, 6. 267,
writes, ‘Vesta eadem quae terra,’ but more correctly in 291, ‘Nec tu
aliud Vestam quam vivam intellige flammam.’ Some moderns derive Vesta
from root _vas_ = ‘dwelling,’ and make her the earth in special
relation to the dwelling; e. g. O. Gilbert, i. 348 note.
Footnote 615:
Preuner, _Hestia-Vesta_, p. 221 ‘Gottheit des Feuers, sofern
religiöse, ethische Ideen sich in demselben abspiegeln, nicht des
Feuers als blossen Elements.’ This is surely turning the question
upside down.
Footnote 616:
Tylor, _Prim. Cult._ ii. 251; Grimm, _German Mythology_ (Eng. trans.),
p. 601 foll.
Footnote 617:
In July also the days were _nefasti_ from the Kalends to the 9th; but
to the meaning of this we have no clue whatever.
Footnote 618:
See above, p. 115.
Footnote 619:
_G. B._ ii. 75. In an appendix (p. 373 foll. and esp. 382) will be
found some other examples of the same type of ritual. Cp. also ii. 176
(from Punjaub), which example, however, does not seem in any way
connected with harvest. But the practice of the Creek Indians is so
unusually well attested that it deserves special attention. It is
described by no less than four independent authorities (see Mr.
Frazer’s note on p. 76).
Footnote 620:
Nissen, _Landeskunde_, 399.
Footnote 621:
The whole of Mr. Frazer’s section on the sacramental eating of new
crops should be read in connexion with the Vestalia.
Footnote 622:
Aust, _de Aedibus sacris_, p. 7; Liv. 5. 19 and 23. The temple was in
the Forum boarium, near the Circus maximus.
Footnote 623:
Wissowa in _Myth. Lex._ s. v. Mater Matuta, 2463.
Footnote 624:
Ovid, _Fasti_, 6. 473 foll.; Cic. _Nat. Deor._ 3. 48; _Tusc._ 1. 28.
Plutarch (_Quaest. Rom._ 16. 1) noted a likeness between her cult and
that of Leucothea in his own city of Chaeroneia; an interesting
passage, though quite inconclusive as to the Greek origin of Mater
Matuta. Plutarch, like Servius (_Aen._ 5. 241) and others, has adopted
Ovid’s legend of Ino by way of explanation of the identity of
Leucothea and Matuta. Merkel (_Fasti_, clxxxiv) believed the cult to
be wholly Greek; Bouché-Leclercq (_Hist. de Divination_, iv. 147)
follows Klausen in identifying Mater Matuta with Tethys (cf. Plut.
_Rom._ 2) and with the deity of the oracle at Pyrgi. But see Wesseling
on Diod. Sic. 15, p. 337; and Strabo, Bk. 5, p. 345.
Footnote 625:
_C. I. L._ i. 176, 177.
Footnote 626:
Liv. 6. 33. 4; Wissowa, _Lex._ 2462.
Footnote 627:
Diod. Sic. 15. 14, p. 337, and Wesseling’s note. The temple at Pyrgi
was an important one, and rich enough to be plundered by Dionysius I
of Syracuse. But it must be admitted that the identification of the
deity of Pyrgi with Mater Matuta is not absolutely certain. Strabo, l.
c., calls her Eileithyia, Aristotle (_Oecon._ 1349 b) Leucothea; and
it is thought that Mater Matuta alone combines the characteristics of
these two. If, however, the goddess of Pyrgi was the deity of the
oracle, she might almost as well have been a Fortuna, like those of
Antium and Praeneste.
Footnote 628:
Tertullian, _de Monogam_. 17.
Footnote 629:
Ovid, _Fasti_, 6. 481, with Plut. _Q. R._ 16; _Camill._ 5.
Footnote 630:
Varro, _L. L._ 5. 106. Ovid (482) writes of _liba tosta_, i. e. cakes
cooked in pans rather than baked, like the _mola salsa_. See above, p.
149; and cp. Ovid, 532 ‘in subito cocta foco.’
Footnote 631:
Plut. ll. cc.; Ovid, 559 foll.
Footnote 632:
See below on Jan. 11. I cannot explain the rule that a woman prayed
for nephews and nieces before her own children, which is peculiar to
this cult.
Footnote 633:
Preller, i. 322; Wissowa in _Lex_.
Footnote 634:
_R. H._ (Eng. trans.) i. 162.
Footnote 635:
Lucr. 5. 654.
Footnote 636:
Paulus, 122 ‘Matrem Matutam antiqui ob bonitatem appellabant, et
maturum idoneum usui,’ &c. See also Curtius, _Gk. Etym._ I. 408.
Footnote 637:
_Fasti_, 6. 569 foll.; 625 foll.: cp. Dionysius, 4. 40. Ovid has three
fanciful explanations of the draping.
Footnote 638:
Ovid, l.c.; Dionys. 4. 40.
Footnote 639:
Varro ap. Nonium, p. 189; Plin. _N. H._ 8. 194, 197. See Schwegler,
_R. G._ i. 712, note 3, and a full discussion in _Lex_. by R. Peter,
s.v. Fortuna, p. 1509.
Footnote 640:
Dio Cassius, 58. 7.
Footnote 641:
Seneca, _Q. N._ 2. 41; Müller-Deecke, _Etrusker_, ii. 83; Dennis,
_Etruria_, i, Introduction lvi. The passage of Seneca is a very
curious one about the Etruscan lightning-lore. O. Müller guesses that
the _di involuti_ were Fates (_Schicksalsgottheiten_), which would
suit Fortuna (cp. Hor. _Od._ 1. 35).
Footnote 642:
There is just a possibility that it was confused with a statue of
Pudicitia, also _in foro boario_, and also said to have been veiled
(Festus, 242). Varro, l. c., calls the goddess of the statue, Fortuna
Virgo, and Preller suggested that she was identical with Pudicitia.
The lines of Ovid seem to favour this view (_Fasti_, 6. 617 foll.):
Veste data tegitur. Vetat hanc Fortuna moveri
Et sic e templo est ipsa locuta suo;
‘Ore revelato qua primum luce patebit
Servius, haec positi prima pudoris erit.
Parcite, matronae, vetitas attingere vestes:
Sollemni satis est voce movere preces.’
Footnote 643:
Mommsen in _C. I. L._ i. 2, 298.
Footnote 644:
Livy, 9. 30; Val. Max. 2. 5. 4; Varro, _L. L._ 6. 17. Cp. _C. I. L._
vi. 3696 [Magistri] quinq(uennales) [collegi] teib(icinum) Rom(anorum)
qui s(acris) p(ublicis) p(raesto) s(unt) Iov(i) Epul(oni) s(acrum).
Footnote 645:
So Preller, i. 198.
Footnote 646:
Aust, in _Lex._ s. v. Iuppiter, 680. Both here and in his work _de
Aedibus sacris_, this scholar declines to distinguish between Iup.
Invictus and Iup. Victor.
Footnote 647:
For Minerva as the patron of all such guilds see Wissowa in _Lex._ s.
v. Minerva, 2984 foll.
Footnote 648:
Varro, _L. L._ 6. 17. There were three days of revelry, according to
Livy (9. 30): did they meet in this temple on each day? The 13th was
the day of the _epulum_; which the other days were we do not know.
Footnote 649:
_L. L._ 6. 17.
Footnote 650:
Festus, 149, s. v. minusculae. Cf. Ovid, _Fasti_, 6. 695.
Footnote 651:
Livy, l. c. Plutarch, _Quaest. Rom._ 55, who confuses two Appii
Claudii, and refers the story to the Decemvir instead of to the Censor
of 311 B.C. Livy omits the very Roman trait (Ov. 673 foll.) of the
_libertus_ feigning to be surprised by his _patronus_.
Footnote 652:
Cohen, _Méd. Pl._ 33; Borghesi, _Op._ i. 201 (quoted by Marq. 577).
Footnote 653:
Müller-Deecke, _Etrusker_, ii. 202.
Footnote 654:
_Journal of Philology_, vol. xi. p. 189. It was a short pipe played
with a reed, and no doubt almost the same thing as the short rough
oboes which are still favourites in Italy, and which are still
sometimes played two at a time in the mouth as of old. Their antiquity
is vouched for by the law of the Twelve Tables, which limited the
players at a funeral to ten. See Professor Anderson’s article ‘tibia’
in _Dict. of Ant._ (ed. 2).
Footnote 655:
_Fasti_, 6. 731.
Footnote 656:
Aust, _de Aedibus sacris_, p. 13.
Footnote 657:
Not to be confused, as in Livy, _Epit._ 14, with a statue of Summanus
himself on the same temple (in fastigio Iovis: Cicero, _Div._ 1. 10).
Footnote 658:
_de Civ. Dei_, 4. 23.
Footnote 659:
Festus, 229, s. v. Proversum fulgor: ‘Quod diurna Iovis, nocturna
Summani fulgura habentur.’ (Cp. Pliny, _N. H._ 2. 52.) An interesting
inscription (_C. I. L._ vi. 206) runs, ‘Summanium fulgus conditum,’ i.
e. ‘a bolt which fell before dawn was buried here.’
Footnote 660:
_L. L._ 5. 74.
Footnote 661:
Müller-Deecke, _Etrusker_, ii. 60.
Footnote 662:
_Études de Mythologie Gauloise_, i. p. 92. M. Gaidoz looks on these
wheel-cakes as ‘emblematic of Summanus’ as a god of sun and sky.
Footnote 663:
Festus, p. 348. The MS. has ‘finctae.’
Footnote 664:
_Journal of Hellenic Studies_, vol. vii, No. 1 (1886), p. 44 foll.
Footnote 665:
_Fasti_, 6. 775 foll.
Footnote 666:
p. 104.
Footnote 667:
_L. L._ 61. 7.
Footnote 668:
Livy, 10. 46. 17.
Footnote 669:
_Ann._ 2. 41.
Footnote 670:
See above, the heading of this section.
Footnote 671:
_C. I. L._ 320.
Footnote 672:
See above, p. 50.
Footnote 673:
ch. i.
Footnote 674:
Marquardt, p. 2.
Footnote 675:
Pliny, _N. H._ 34. 54.
Footnote 676:
Plut. _Marius_, 26; Pliny, l. c. I follow Aust, _de Aedibus sacris_,
p. 26.
Footnote 677:
Above, p. 156.
Footnote 678:
Ovid is the only authority for the worship of Fortuna on June 11
(_Fasti_, 6. 569); it is not mentioned in the calendars (Tusc. Ven.
Maff.) which have notes surviving for this day.
Footnote 679:
By H. Jordan, _Symbolae ad historiam religionum Italicarum alterae_
(Königsberg, 1885). See also R. Peter, in _Lex._ s. v. Fortuna, 1542,
and Aust, _Lex._ s. v. Iuppiter, 647.
Footnote 680:
_C. I. L._ xiv. 2863.
Footnote 681:
_de Div._ 2. 41. 85.
Footnote 682:
Jordan, op. cit. p. 12.
Footnote 683:
See below, p. 223 foll., under Sept. 13.
Footnote 684:
Fernique, _Étude sur Préneste_, pp. 8 and 139 foll.
Footnote 685:
See also his previous letter of March 3.
Footnote 686:
He held ‘birth’ and ‘fortune’ to be words etymologically related. Cp.
a communication from Prof. Kluge in the same number of the _Academy_.
Footnote 687:
_Journal of Philology_, vol. xi. 178; _Studies in Latin Literature_,
p. 60.
Footnote 688:
_de Civ. Dei_, 4. 11. Cp. Serv. _Aen._ 8. 336.
Footnote 689:
l. c. ‘Castissime colitur a matribus.’ One of the ancient inscriptions
from Praeneste (_C. I. L._ xi. 2863) is a dedication ‘nationu cratia’
= _nationis gratia_, which may surely mean ‘in gratitude for
childbirth,’ though Mommsen would refer it to cattle, on the ground of
a gloss of Festus (p. 167).
Footnote 690:
Jordan, op. cit. p. 12.
Footnote 691:
O. Gilbert, _Gesch. u. Topogr. der Stadt Rom_, ii. 260 foll.
Footnote 692:
St. John, iii. 30; St. Augustine, Sermo xii in Nativitate Domini: ‘In
nativitate Christi dies crescit, in Johannis nativitate decrescit.
Profectum plane facit dies, quum mundi Salvator oritur; defectum
patitur quum ultimus prophetarum nascitur.’
Footnote 693:
See many examples in _The Golden Bough_, ii. 258 foll., and Brand’s
_Popular Antiquities_, p. 306.
Footnote 694:
See R. Peter, in _Lex._, s. v. Fortuna, 1506.
Footnote 695:
_Études de Myth. Gaul._ i. 56 foll. On p. 58 we find, ‘La Fortune nous
paraît donc sortir, par l’intermédiaire d’une image, d’une divinité du
soleil.’
Footnote 696:
For the history of these symbols in Greek cults, and especially that
of Tyche, see a paper by Prof. Gardner in _Journal of Hellenic
Studies_, vol. ix. p. 78, on ‘Countries and Cities in ancient art.’
The rudder seems to connect Fortuna with sea-faring; it is often
accompanied by a ship’s prow (R. Peter, _Lex._ 1507); in connexion
with which we may notice that even in Italy her cult is rarely found
far from the sea. Cp. Horace, _Od._ 1. 35, 6 ‘dominam aequoris.’
Footnote 697:
10. 311 foll.; Marq. 578.
Footnote 698:
R. Peter, _Lex._ 1505. She is also often represented with a _modius_,
and with ears of corn. Cp. Horace, l. c. (of the Fortuna of Antium):
‘Te pauper ambit sollicita prece Ruris colonus.’
Footnote 699:
Ovid, _Fasti_, 6. 573 foll. Schwegler, _R. G._ i. 711 foll.; Preller,
ii. 180.
Footnote 700:
Dennis, _Cities and Cemeteries of Etruria_, vol. ii. p. 506;
Gardthausen, ‘Mastarna,’ figures the painting (plate i).
Footnote 701:
Tac. _Ann._ II. 24; the fragments of the original speech are printed
from the inscription at Lyons in Mr. Furneaux’s _Annals of Tacitus_,
vol. ii. p. 210.
Footnote 702:
Juvenal, 10. 74, and note of the Scholiast.
Footnote 703:
Müller-Deecke, _Etrusker_, ii. 52; Dennis, _Cit. and Cem._ ii. 24.
Footnote 704:
Juvenal, l.c.
Footnote 705:
See below on Sept. 13, p. 234.
Footnote 706:
Müller-Deecke, ii. 308. Gaidoz, op. cit. p. 56, on the connexion
between Fortuna, Necessitas, and Nemesis.
Footnote 707:
Gerhard, _Agathodaemon_, p. 30, has other explanations.
MENSIS QUINCTILIS.
The festivals of this month are so exceedingly obscure that it seems
hopeless to try to connect them in any definite way with the operations
either of nature or of man. We know that this was the time when the
sun’s heat became oppressive and dangerous; statistics show at the
present day that the rate of mortality rises at Rome to its greatest
height in July and August, as indeed is the case in southern latitudes
generally. We know also that harvest of various kinds was going on in
this month: ‘Quarto intervallo inter solstitium et caniculam plerique
messem faciunt,’ writes Varro (_R. R._ 1. 32). We should have expected
that the unhealthy season and the harvest would have left their mark on
the calendar; but in the scantiness of our information we can find very
few traces of their influence. We here lose the company of Ovid, who
might, in spite of his inevitable ignorance, have incidentally thrown
some ray of light upon the darkness; but it is clear that even Varro and
Verrius knew hardly anything of the almost obsolete festivals of this
month. The Poplifugia, the Lucaria, the Neptunalia, and the Furrinalia,
had all at one time been great festivals, for they are marked in large
capitals in the ancient calendars; but they had no more meaning for the
Roman of Varro’s time than the lesser saints’-days of our calendar have
for the ordinary Englishman of to-day. The ludi Apollinares, of much
later date, which always maintained their interest, did not fall upon
the days of any of these festivals, or obliterate them in the minds of
the people; they must have decayed from pure inanition—want of practical
correlation with the life and interests of a great city.
III NON. QUINCT. (JULY 5). NP.
POPLIF[UGIA]. (MAFF. AMIT. ANT.)
FERIAE IOVI. (AMIT.)
The note ‘feriae Iovi’ in the calendar of Amiternum is confirmed in a
curious way, by a statement of Dio Cassius[708], who says that in B.C.
42 the Senate passed a decree that Caesar’s birthday should be
celebrated on this day[709], and that any one who refused to take part
in the celebration should be ‘sacer Iovi et Divo Iulio.’ But we know far
too little of the rites of this day to enable us to make even a guess at
the meaning of its connexion with Jupiter. It is just worth noting that
two days later we find a festival of Juno, the Nonae Caprotinae; the two
days may have had some connexion with each other, being separated by an
interval of one day, as is the case with the three days of the Lemuria,
the two days of the Lucaria in this month, and in other instances[710];
and their rites were explained by two parts of the same aetiological
story—viz. that the Romans fled before the Fidenates on the 5th, and in
turn defeated them on the 7th[711]. But we are quite in the dark as to
the meaning of such a connexion, if such there was. Nor can we explain
the singular fact that this is the only festival in the whole year,
marked in large capitals in the calendars, which falls _before the
Nones_[712].
There is hardly a word in the whole calendar the meaning of which is so
entirely unknown to us as this word Poplifugia. Of the parallel one, the
Regifugium in February, something can be made out, as we shall see[713];
and it is not unlikely that the ritualistic meaning concealed in both
may be much the same. But all attempts to find a definite explanation
for Poplifugia have so far been fruitless, with the single exception
perhaps of that of Schwegler[714], who himself made the serious blunder
of confounding this day with the Nonae Caprotinae. It is true that the
two days and their rites were confused even in antiquity, but only by
late writers[715]; the calendars, on the other hand, are perfectly plain
and so is Varro[716], who proceeds from the one to the other in a way
that can leave no doubt that he understood them as distinct.
The simple fact is that the meaning of the word Poplifugia had wholly
vanished when the calendar began to be studied. Ingenuity and fancy, as
usual, took the place of knowledge, and two legends were the result—the
one connecting the word with the flight of the Romans from an army of
their neighbours of Fidenae, after the retirement of the Gauls from the
city[717]; the other interpreting it as a memorial of the flight of the
people after the disappearance of Romulus in the darkness of an eclipse
or sudden tempest[718]. The first of these legends may be dismissed at
once; the large capitals in which the name Poplifugia appears in the
fragments of the three calendars which preserve it, are sufficient
evidence that it must have been far older than the Gallic invasion[719].
The second legend might suggest that the story itself of the death of
Romulus had grown out of some religious rite performed at this time of
year; and it was indeed traditionally connected with the Nones of this
month[720]. But that day is unluckily not the day of the Poplifugia,
which it is hardly possible to connect with the disappearance of
Romulus. There may, however, have been a connexion between the rites of
the two days, as has been pointed out above; and this being so, it is
worth while to notice a suggestion made by Schwegler, in spite of the
fact that he confused the two days together. He saw that the
disappearance of Romulus was said to have occurred while he was holding
a _lustratio_ of the citizens[721], and concluded that the Poplifugia
may have been an ancient rite of lustration—an idea which other writers
have been content to follow without always giving him the credit of
it[722].
Such a rite may very well be indicated by the following sentence of
Varro[723]—the only one which gives us any solid information on the
question: _Aliquot huius diei vestigia fugae in sacris apparent, de
quibus rebus antiquitatum libri plura referunt_. It seems not
unreasonable to guess that the rite was one of those in which the
priest, or in this case, as it would seem, the people also, fled from
the spot after the sacrifice had been concluded. As the slayer of the ox
at the Athenian Bouphonia (which curiously enough took place just at
this same time of year) fled as one guilty of blood, so it may possibly
have been that priest and people at Rome fled after some similar
sacrifice, and for the same reason[724]. Or it may have been that they
fled from the victim as a scapegoat which was destined to carry away
from the city some pollution or pestilence. It is interesting to find at
Iguvium in Umbria some ‘vestigia fugae,’ not of the people, indeed, but
of victims, at a _lustratio populi_ which seems to have had some object
of this kind[725]. Heifers were put to flight, then caught and killed,
apparently in order to carry off evils from the city[726], as well as to
represent and secure the defeat of its enemies. Such performances seem
especially apt to occur at sickly seasons[727]; and as the unhealthy
season began at Rome in July[728], it is just possible that the
Poplifugia was a ceremony of this class.
NON. QUINCT. (JULY 7). N.
This day does not appear as a festival in the old calendars; but the
late one of Silvius[729] notes it as _Ancillarum Feriae_, or Feast of
Handmaids, and adds the explanatory story which is found also in
Plutarch and Macrobius[730]. The victorious Fidenates having demanded
the surrender of the wives of the Romans, the latter made over to them
their _ancillae_, dressed in their mistresses’ robes, by the advice of a
certain Philotis, or Tutula[731], one of the handmaids. Ausonius alludes
to the custom that gave rise to the story:
Festa Caprotinis memorabo celebria Nonis
Cum stola matronis dempta teget famulas[732].
Plutarch also tells us that on this day the _ancillae_ not only wore the
matron’s dress, but had license for what may be described as a game of
romps; they beat each other, threw stones at each other, and scoffed at
the passers by[733].
This last point supplies us with a possible clue both to the origin of
the custom and the explanatory legend. One of the most frequent customs
at harvest-time used to be, and still is in some places, for the
harvesters to mock at, and even to use roughly, any stranger who appears
on the field; frequently he is tied up with straw, even by the women
binding the sheaves, and only released on promise of money, brandy, &c.;
or he is ducked in water, or half-buried, or in pretence beheaded[734].
The stranger in such cases is explained as representing the spirit of
the corn; the examples collected by Mannhardt and Mr. Frazer seem fairly
conclusive on this point[735]. The wearing of the matron’s dress also
seems to be a combination of the familiar practices of the winter
Saturnalia with harvest customs, which in various forms is by no means
uncommon[736], though I have not found a case of exchange of dress after
harvest.
Thus it would seem possible that we have here a relic of Italian
harvest-custom; and this is confirmed by the statement of Tertullian
that there was on this day a sacrifice to the harvest-god Consus[737],
at his underground altar in the Circus Maximus, of which we shall have
more to say under Aug. 21 (Consualia). It is worth noting here that just
as the legend of the Rape of the Sabines was connected with the
Consualia[738], so the analogous story of the demand of the Fidenates
for Roman women is associated with the _Ancillarum Feriae_, and the day
of the sacrifice to Consus. This not only serves to connect together the
two days of Consus-worship, but suggests that harvest was a favourable
opportunity for the practice of capturing wives in primitive Italy, when
the women were out in the fields, and might be carried off by a sudden
incursion.
This day was also known as Nonae Caprotinae, because the women,
presumably those who had been helping at the harvest, both bond and
free[739], sacrificed to Juno Caprotina under a wild fig-tree
(caprificus) in the Campus Martius[740]. Juno Caprotina was a Latin
goddess, of great renown at Falerii[741], where the goat from which she
took her name appears in the legend of her cult. The character of Juno
as the representative of the female principle of human life[742] suits
well enough with the prominence of women both in the customs and legends
connected with the day; and the fig-tree with its milky juice, which was
used, according to Macrobius, in the sacrifice to Juno instead of milk,
has also its significance[743]. Varro adds that a rod (virga) was also
cut from this tree[744], without telling us for what purpose it was
used; and it has been ingeniously conjectured that it was with this that
the handmaids beat each other as Plutarch describes, to produce
fertility, just as at the Lupercalia the women were beaten with strips
cut from the skins of the victims (amiculum Junonis). But this is mere
conjecture, and Varro’s statement is too indefinite to be pressed[745].
VIII ID. QUINCT. (JULY 8). N.
‘Piso ait vitulam victoriam nominari, cuius rei hoc argumentum profert,
quod postridio nonas Iulias re bene gesta, cum pridie populus a Tuscis
in fugam versus sit (unde Populifugia vocantur), post victoriam certis
sacrificiis fiat _vitulatio_[746].’
I must be content with quoting this passage, and without comment; it
will suffice to show that the meaning of the word ‘vitulatio’ was
entirely unknown to Roman scholars. Why they should not have connected
it with _vitulus_ I know not: we may remember that in the Iguvian ritual
_vituli_ seem to have performed the function of scapegoats[747]. If the
vitulatio is in any way to be connected with the Poplifugia, as it was
indeed in the legend as given by Macrobius above, it may be worth while
to remember that that day is marked in one calendar as ‘feriae Iovi,’
and that the _vitulus_ (heifer) was the special victim of Jupiter[748].
PRID. NON. QUINCT.—III ID. QUINCT. (JULY 6-13).
LUDI APOLLINARES.
All these days are marked ‘ludi’ in Maff. Amit. Ant.; the 6th ‘ludi
Apoll[ini],’ and the 13th ‘ludi in circo.’
These games[749] were instituted in 212 B.C., for a single occasion
only, at the most dangerous period of the war with Hannibal, when he had
taken Tarentum and invaded Campania. Recourse was had to the Sibylline
books and to the Italian oracles of Marcius, and the latter answered as
follows[750]:
‘Hostes Romani si expellere voltis, vomicamque quae gentium venit longe,
Apollini vovendos censeo ludos, qui quotannis Apollini fiant,’ &c. The
games were held, as we may suppose, on the analogy of the ludi plebeii,
originally on the 13th day of the month[751], and were, in course of
time, extended backwards till in the Julian calendar we find them
lasting from the 6th to the 13th. They had a Greek character from the
first; they were superintended by the Decemviri sacris faciundis, who
consulted the Sibylline books and organized the ritual of foreign cults;
and they included scenic shows, after the Greek fashion, as well as
chariot races[752].
It was matter of dispute whether in this year, 212, Apollo was expected
to show his favour to Rome as a conqueror of her foe or as an averter of
pestilence in the summer heats; both functions were within his range.
But in 208 we are told that the ludi were renewed by a lex, made
permanent, and fixed for July 13 in consequence of a pestilence[753];
and we may fairly assume that this was, in part at least, the cause of
their institution four years earlier. What little we know of the
traditions of Apollo-worship at Rome points in the same direction. His
oldest temple in the Flaminian fields, where, according to Livy, a still
more ancient shrine once stood[754], was vowed in 432 B.C. in
consequence of a pestilence; and the god had also the cult-title
Medicus[755]. The next occasion on which we meet with the cult is that
of the first institution of a lectisternium in 397 B.C., Livy’s account
of which is worth condensing[756]. That year was remarkable for an
extremely cold winter, which was followed by an equally unhealthy
summer, destructive to all kinds of animals. As the cause of this
pestilence could not be discovered, the Sibylline books were consulted;
the result of which was the introduction of a _lectisternium_, at which
three couches were laid out with great magnificence, on which reposed
Apollo and Latona, Diana and Hercules, Mercurius and Neptunus, whose
favour the people besought for eight days.
The cult of Apollo, though thus introduced in its full magnificence at
Rome in historical times, was, ‘so old in Italy as almost to give the
impression of being indigenous[757].’ Tradition ascribed to Tarquinius
Superbus the introduction from Cumae of the Sibylline oracles, which
were intimately connected with Apollo-worship; and that Etruscan king
may well have been familiar with the Greek god, who was well known in
Etruria as _Aplu_[758], and who was worshipped at Caere, the home of the
Tarquinian family, which city had a ‘treasury’ at Delphi[759]. The
Romans themselves, according to a tradition which is by no means
improbable, had very early dealings with the Delphic oracle.
It does not seem certain that Apollo displaced any other deity when
transplanted to Rome. It has been thought that the obscure Veiovis
became clothed with some of Apollo’s characteristics, but this is
extremely doubtful[760]. The mysterious deity of Soracte, _Soranus_, is
called Apollo by Virgil[761]; this, however, is not a true displacement,
like that, e. g., of the ancient Ceres by the characteristics of
Demeter, but merely a poetical substitution of a familiar name for an
unfamiliar one which was unquestionably old Italian.
It does not seem probable that in the Republican period the cult of
Apollo had any special influence, either religious or ethical, for the
Roman people generally. It was a priestly experiment—a new physician was
called in at perilous times, according to the fashion of the Roman
oligarchy, either to give advice by his oracles, or to receive honours
for his benefits as ἀλεξίκακος. It is in the age of Augustus that the
cult begins to be important; the family of the Caesars was said to have
had an ancient connexion with it[762], and after the victory at Actium,
where a temple of Apollo stood on the promontory, Augustus not only
enlarged and adorned this one, but built another on the Palatine, near
his own house, to Apollo Palatinus. But for the ‘Apollinism’ of
Augustus, and for the important part played by the god in the _ludi
saeculares_ of B.C. 17, I must refer the reader to other works[763].
XIV KAL. SEXT. (JULY 19). NP.
LUCAR[IA]. (MAFF. AMIT.)
XII KAL. SEXT. (JULY 21). NP.
LUCAR[IA]. (MAFF. AMIT.)
Here, as in the next two festivals we have to consider, we are but
‘dipping buckets into empty wells.’ The ritual, and therefore the
original meaning of this festival, is wholly lost to us, as indeed it
was to the Romans of Varro’s time. Varro, in his list of festivals, does
not even mention this one; but it is possible that some words have here
dropped out of his text[764]. The only light we have comes at
second-hand from Verrius Flaccus[765]. ‘Lucaria festa in luco colebant
Romani, qui permagnus inter viam Salariam et Tiberim fuit, pro eo, quod
victi a Gallis fugientes[766] e praelio ibi se occultaverint.’ This
passage reminds us of the story explanatory of the Poplifugia, and might
suggest, as in that case, an expiatory sacrifice and flight of the
people from a scapegoat destined to carry away disease. But here we know
of no _vestigia fugae_ in the cult, such as Varro tells us were apparent
at the Poplifugia.
The only possible guess we can make must rest on the name itself, taken
together with what Festus tells us of the great wood once existing
between the Via Salaria and the Tiber, in which the festival was held—a
wood which no doubt occupied the Pincian hill, and the region afterwards
laid out in gardens by Lucullus, Pompeius, and Sallust the historian.
Lucaria is formed from _lucar_ as Lemuria from _lemur_; and _lucar_,
though in later times it meant ‘the sum disbursed from the _aerarium_
for the games[767],’ drawn probably from the receipts of the sacred
groves, may also at one time itself have meant a grove. An inscription
from the Latin colony of Luceria shows us _lucar_ in this sense[768]:
IN · HOCE · LUCARID · STIRCUS · NE · IS · FUNDATID, &c.
Now there can be no doubt about the great importance of woods, or rather
of clearings in them, in the ancient Italian religion. ‘_Nemus_ and
_lucus_,’ says Preller[769], ‘like so many other words, remind us of the
old Italian life of woodland and clearing. _Nemus_ is a pasturage,
_lucus_ a “light” or clearing[770], in the forest, where men settled and
immediately began to look to the interests of the spirits of the
woodland, and especially of Silvanus, who is at once the god of the wild
life of the woodland and of the settler in the forest—the backwoodsman.’
The woods left standing as civilization and agriculture advanced
continued to be the abodes of _numina_, not only of the great Jupiter,
who, as we shall see, was worshipped in groves all over Italy[771], and
of Diana, who at Aricia bore the title of Nemorensis, but of innumerable
spirits of the old worship, Fauni, Silvani, and other manifestations of
the idea most definitely conceived in the great god Mars[772]. But men
could not of course know for certain what spirits dwelt in a wood, whose
anger might be roused by intrusion or tree-felling; and old Cato, among
his many prescriptions, material and religious, gives one in the form of
an invocation to such unknown deities if an intrusion had to be made. It
is worth quoting, and runs as follows[773]: ‘Lucum conlucare Romano more
sic oportet. Porco piaculo facito. Sic verba concipito: Si Deus, si Dea
es, quoium illud sacrum est, uti tibi ius siet porco piaculo facere,
illiusce sacri coercendi ergo. Harumce rerum ergo, sive ego, sive quis
iussu meo fecerit, uti id recte factum siet. Eius rei ergo te hoc porco
piaculo immolando bonas preces precor, uti sies volens propitius mihi,
domo familiaeque meae, liberisque meis. Harumce rerum ergo macte hoc
porco piaculo immolando esto.’
Applying these facts to the problem of the Lucaria, though necessarily
with hesitation, and remembering the position of the wood and the date
of the festival, we may perhaps arrive at the following conclusion; that
this was a propitiatory worship offered to the deities inhabiting the
woods which bordered on the cultivated Roman ager. The time when the
corn was being gathered in, and the men and women were in the fields,
would be by no means unsuitable for such propitiation. It need not have
been addressed to any special deity, any more than that of Cato, or as I
believe, the ritual of the Lupercalia[774]; it belonged to the most
primitive of Roman rites, and partly for that reason, partly also from
the absorption of land by large private owners[775], it fell into
desuetude. The grove of the Fratres Arvales and the decay of their cult
(also addressed to a nameless deity) offers an analogy on the other side
of Rome, towards Ostia.
Such a hypothesis seems not unreasonable, though it is based rather on
general than particular evidence. It is at any rate better than the wild
guessing of one German inquirer, who is always at home when there is no
information. Huschke[776] believes that the words _Lucaria_ and
_Luceres_ (the ancient Roman tribe-name) are both derived from _lucus_
because the Lucaria take place in July, which is the auspication-month
of the Luceres. And there are two days of this festival, because the
Luceres owed protection both to the Romani and Quirites (Rhamnes and
Tities) and therefore worshipped both Janus and Quirinus.
X KAL. SEXT. (JULY 23). NP.
NEPT[UNALIA]. (PINC. MAFF.)
FERIAE NEPTUNO. (PINC. ALLIF.)
The early history of Neptunus is a mystery, and we learn hardly anything
about him from his festival. We know that it took place in the heat of
summer, and that booths or huts made of the foliage of trees were used
at it, to keep the sun off the worshippers—and that is all[777]. Neither
of these facts suggests a sea-god, such as we are accustomed to see in
Neptune; yet they are hardly strong enough to enable us to build on them
any other hypothesis as to his character or functions. Nor does his name
help us. Though it constantly appears in Etruscan art as the name of a
god who has the characteristics of the Greek Poseidon, it is said not to
be of genuine Etruscan origin[778]. If this be so, the Etruscans must
have borrowed it from some people who already used it of a sea-god when
the loan was made; but one does not see why this great seafaring people
should have gone outside the language of their own religion for a name
for their deity of the sea.
In the ancient cult-formulae preserved by Gellius[779], Neptunus is
coupled with a female name Salacia; and of this Varro writes ‘Salacia
Neptuni a salo’—an etymology no doubt suggested by the later
identification of Neptunus with Poseidon. Salacia is in my opinion
rather to be referred to _salax_ (‘lustful,’ &c.), and, like Nerio
Martis[780], to be taken as indicating the virile force of Neptunus as
the divine progenitor of a stock[781]. This seems to be confirmed by the
fact that this god was known as Neptunus pater, like Mars, Janus,
Saturnus, and Jupiter himself[782]; all of whom are associated in cult
or legend with the early history of Latin stocks.
When Neptunus first meets us in Roman history, he has already put on the
attributes of the Greek Poseidon; this was in B.C. 399, at the first
lectisternium, where he is in company with Apollo and Latona, Diana and
Hercules, and is specially coupled with Mercurius (= Hermes)[783]. What
characteristics of his suggested the identification, either here or in
Etruria, we cannot tell. We find no trace of any evidence connecting him
with the sea; and the coupling with Hermes need mean no more than that
both this god and Poseidon found their way to Rome through the medium of
Greek trade.
It has recently been conjectured[784] that the object of both the
Lucaria and Neptunalia was to avert the heat and drought of July, and to
propitiate the deities of water and springs, of whom Neptunus (judging
from his identification with Poseidon) may possibly have been one; but
this is no more than a vague guess, which its author only puts forward
‘with all reserve.’
VIII KAL. SEXT. (JULY 25). NP.
FURR[INALIA]. (PINC. ALLIF. MAFF.)
FERIAE FURRINAE (PINC. ALLIF.)
It seems to be the lesson of the festivals of July that there was an
early stage of the Roman religion which had lost all meaning for the
Romans themselves when they began to inquire into the history of their
own religion. Of this last festival of the month we know no single item
in the cult, and therefore have nothing substantial to guide us. It
seems almost certain that even Varro and Verrius Flaccus[785] knew
nothing of the festival but its name as it stood in the calendar. Nor
did they know anything of the goddess Furrina or Furina. Varro is
explicit; he says that she was celebrated ‘apud antiquos,’ for they gave
her an annual festival and a flamen, but that in his day there were
hardly a dozen Romans who knew either her name or anything about her.
Varro is no doubt right in arguing from the festival and the flamen to
the ancient honour in which she was held; and these facts also tend to
prove that she was a single deity, and quite distinct from the Furiae
with whom the later Romans as well as the Greeks naturally confounded
her—an inference which is confirmed by the long _u_ indicated by the
double _r_ in the calendars[786].
There is therefore nothing but the etymology to tell us anything about
the goddess, and from this source we cannot expect to learn anything
certain. Preller plausibly suggested a connexion with _fur_, _furvus_,
and _fuscus_, from a root meaning dark or secret; and if this were
correct she might be a deity of the under-world or of the darkness.
Bücheler in his _Umbrica_[787] suggested a comparison with the Umbrian
_furfare_ = februare (‘to purify’), which will at least serve to show
the difficulty of basing conclusions on etymological reasoning. Jordan
conjectured that the festival had to do with the averting of dangerous
summer heat[788]—a conclusion that is natural enough, but does not seem
to rest on any evidence but its date. Lastly, Huschke[789], again in his
element, boldly asserts that the Furrinalia served to appease the
deities of revenge who hailed from the black region of Vediovis—wrongly
confusing Furrina and the Furiae. It will be quite obvious from these
instances that it is as hopeless as it is useless to attempt to discover
the nature of either goddess or festival by means of etymological
reasoning.
Footnote 708:
Bk. 47. 18. We owe the reference to Merkel, _Praef. in Ovidii Fastos_,
clix.
Footnote 709:
His real birthday seems to have been the 12th, which, was already
occupied by the ludi Apollinares.
Footnote 710:
Mommsen in _C. I. L._ 321 (on July 7).
Footnote 711:
Varro, _L. L._6. 18; Marq. 325.
Footnote 712:
See Introduction, p. 7. This anomaly led Huschke to the inadmissible
supposition that this was the single addition made to the calendar of
Numa in the republican period. He accepts Varro’s explanatory story,
_Röm. Jahr_, p. 224.
Footnote 713:
See below, p. 327.
Footnote 714:
_R. G._ i. 532: see Mommsen’s criticism in _C. I. L_ 321 f.
Footnote 715:
Macrob. 6. 11. 36; Plut. _Rom._ 29, _Camill._ 33. See also O. Müller’s
note on Varro, _L. L._ 6. 18.
Footnote 716:
_L. L._ 6. 18.
Footnote 717:
This is Varro’s account; the Etruscans are a variant in Macrobius, l.
c.
Footnote 718:
Dionys. 2. 56; Plut. _Rom._ 29. See Lewis, _Credibility of Early Roman
History_, i. 430.
Footnote 719:
Introduction, p. 15.
Footnote 720:
Cic. _de Rep._ 1. 16; Plut. _Rom._ 27.
Footnote 721:
Liv. 1. 16 ‘Ad exercitum recensendum.’ Lustratio came to be the word
for a review of troops because this was preceded by a religious
_lustratio populi_.
Footnote 722:
e. g. Gilbert, i. 290; Marq. 325.
Footnote 723:
_L. L._ 6. 18. Details have vanished with the great work here quoted,
the _Antiquitates divinae_.
Footnote 724:
Schwegler suggested the parallel, i. 534, note 20. For the Bouphonia
see especially Mannhardt, _Myth. Forsch._ 68. For other such rites,
Lobeck, _Aglaophamus_, 679, 680.
Footnote 725:
Bücheler, _Umbrica_, 114.
Footnote 726:
The idea of the scapegoat was certainly not unknown in Italy; Bücheler
quotes Serv. (_Aen._ 2. 140) ‘Ludos Taureos a Sabinis propter
pestilentiam institutos dicunt, _ut lues publica in has hostias
verteretur_.’ See on the Regifugium, below, p. 328.
Footnote 727:
See examples in Frazer, _Golden Bough_, ii. 160 foll. The one from the
Key Islands is interesting as including a flight of the people.
Footnote 728:
Nissen, _Landeskunde_, 406.
Footnote 729:
_C. I. L._ p. 269.
Footnote 730:
Macrob. 1. 11. 36; Plut. _Camill._ 33.
Footnote 731:
Aug. _de Civ. Dei_, 4. 8.
Footnote 732:
_de Feriis_, 9.
Footnote 733:
The last point is in _Camill._ 33-6: cp. _Rom._ 29. 6.
Footnote 734:
The bearing of these customs on the Nonae Caprotinae, and on the Greek
story of Lityerses, was suggested by Mannhardt, _Myth. Forsch._ 32.
Mr. Frazer gives a useful collection of examples, _G. B._ ii. 363
foll. The custom survives in Derbyshire (so I am told by Mr. S. B.
Smith, Scholar of Lincoln College), but only in the form of making the
stranger ‘pay his footing.’
Footnote 735:
_G. B._ i. 381.
Footnote 736:
It was the custom, says Macrobius (i. 10) ‘ut patres familiarum,
frugibus et fructibus iam coactis, passim cum servis vescerentur, cum
quibus patientiam laboris in colendo rure toleraverant.’ The old
English harvest- or mell-supper, had all the characteristics of
Saturnalia (Brand, _Pop. Antiq._ 337 foll.).
Footnote 737:
Tertullian, _de Spect._ 5.
Footnote 738:
See below, p. 208.
Footnote 739:
This point—the union of free- and bond-women in the sacrifice—seems to
prove that Nonae Caprotinae and ancillarum feriae were only two names
for the same thing. Macrobius connects the legend of the latter with
the rite of the former (i. II. 36).
Footnote 740:
Plut. _Rom._ 29. Varro, _L. L._ 6. 18 writes ‘in Latio.’
Footnote 741:
Deecke, _Die Falisker_, 89; Roscher, in _Lex._ s. v. Juno, p. 599.
Footnote 742:
See above, p. 143.
Footnote 743:
One naturally compares the ficus Ruminalis and the foundation-legend
of Rome.
Footnote 744:
It is curious that the practice in husbandry called _caprificatio_, or
the introduction of branches of the wild tree among those of the
cultivated fig to make it ripen (Plin. _N. H._ 15. 79; Colum. II. 2)
took place in July; and it strikes me as just possible that there may
have been a connexion between it and the Nonae Caprotinae.
Footnote 745:
Mannhardt, _Myth. Forsch._ l. c.
Footnote 746:
Macrob. 3. 2. 11 and 14. Macrobius also quotes Varro in the 15th book
of his _Res Divinae_ ‘Quod pontifex in sacris quibusdam vitulari
soleat, quod Graeci παιανίζειν vocant.’ Perhaps we may compare
_visceratio_: Serv. Aen. 5. 215.
Footnote 747:
Above, p. 176.
Footnote 748:
Marq. 170.
Footnote 749:
See Marq. 384, and _Lex._ s. v. Apollo 447.
Footnote 750:
Liv. 25. 12.
Footnote 751:
The MSS. of Livy (27. 23) have a.d. iii _Nonas_, no doubt in error for
a.d iii Idus. Merkel, _Praef._ xxviii.; Mommsen, _C. I. L._ 321.
Footnote 752:
Liv. 25. 12; 26. 33; Festus, 326; Cie. _Brutus_, 20, 78, whence it
appears that Ennius produced his _Thyestes_ at these _ludi_. Cp. the
story in Macrob. 1. 17. 25.
Footnote 753:
Liv. 27. 23.
Footnote 754:
Liv. 3. 63. This older shrine Livy calls Apollinar. The temple that
followed it was the only Apollo-temple in Rome till Augustus built one
on the Palatine after Actium; this is clear from Asconius, p. 81 (ad
Cic. in toga candida), quoted by Aust, _de Aedibus sacris_, 7. It was
outside the Porta Carmentalis, near the Circus Flaminius. A still more
ancient Apollinar is assumed by some to have existed on the Quirinal;
but it rests on an uncertain emendation of O. Müller in Varro, _L. L._
5. 52.
Footnote 755:
Liv. 40. 51. The Romans seem originally to have called the god
_Apello_, and connected the name with _pellere_. Paulus, 22; Macrob.
1. 17. 15.
Footnote 756:
Liv. 5. 13.
Footnote 757:
_Lex._ s. v. Apollo, 446.
Footnote 758:
Müller-Deecke, _Etrusker_, ii. 69.
Footnote 759:
Strabo, p. 214; Herodotus, 1.167.
Footnote 760:
Jordan on Preller, i. 265.
Footnote 761:
_Aen._ 11. 785 ‘Summe deum, sancti custos Soractis Apollo,’ &c.
Footnote 762:
Serv. _Aen._ 10. 316 ‘Omnes qui secto matris ventre procreantur, ideo
sunt Apollini consecrati, quia deus medicinae est, per quam lucem
sortiuntur. Unde Aesculapius eius fingitur filius: ita enim eum [esse]
procreatum supra (7. 761) diximus. Caesarum etiam familia ideo sacra
retinebat Apollinis, quia qui primus de eorum familia fuit, exsecto
matris ventre natus est. Unde etiam Caesar dictus est.’
Footnote 763:
A concise account by Roscher, _Lex._ s. v. Apollo 448; Boissier,
_Religion Romaine_, i. 96 foll.; Gardthausen, _Augustus_, vol. ii, p.
873. For the _ludi saeculares_ see especially Mommsen’s edition of the
great but mutilated inscription recently discovered in the Campus
Martius (_Eph. Epigr._ viii. 1 foll.); Diels, _Sibyllin. Blätter_, p.
109 foll.; and the _Carmen Saeculare_ of Horace, with the commentaries
of Orelli and Wickham.
Footnote 764:
_L. L._ 6. 18 fin. and 19 init.
Footnote 765:
Festus, 119. s. v. Lucaria.
Footnote 766:
The battle of the Allia was fought on the 18th, the day before the
first Lucaria. This no doubt suggested the legend connecting the two,
especially as the Via Salaria, near which was the grove of the
festival, crossed the battle-field some ten miles north of Rome.
Footnote 767:
See Friedländer in Marq. 487; Plutarch, _Q. R._ 88.
Footnote 768:
Mommsen in _Ephemeris Epigraphica_, ii. 205.
Footnote 769:
i. III; Liv. 24. 3; Cato, ap. Priscian, 629. Much useful matter
bearing on _luci_ as used for boundaries, _asyla_, markets, &c., will
be found in Rudorff, _Gromatici Veteres_, ii. 260.
Footnote 770:
‘Light’ is not uncommon in England for a ‘ride’ or clearing in a wood.
Footnote 771:
Below, pp. 222, and 228.
Footnote 772:
On the whole subject of the religious ideas arising from the first
cultivation of land in a wild district I know nothing more instructive
than Robertson Smith’s remarks in _Religion of the Semites_, Lecture
iii.; I have often thought that they throw some light on the origin of
Mars and kindred numina. The most ancient settlements in central Italy
are now found to be on the tops of hills, probably once forest-clad
(see Von Duhn’s paper on recent excavations, _Journal of Hellenic
Studies_, 1896, p. 125). For a curious survival of the feeling about
woods and hill-tops in Bengal, see Crooke, _Religion, &c., in India_,
ii. 87.
Footnote 773:
_R. R._ 139. For _piacula_ of this kind see also Henzen, _Acta Fratr.
Arv._ 136 foll.; Marq. 456.
Footnote 774:
See below, p. 312.
Footnote 775:
See a passage in Frontinus (_Grom. Vet._ 1. 56: cp. 2. 263).
Footnote 776:
_Röm. Jahr_, p. 221, and note 81 on p. 222.
Footnote 777:
Festus, 377 ‘Umbrae vocantur Neptunalibus casae frondeae pro
tabernaculis.’ Wissowa (_Lex._ s. v. Neptunus, 202) compares the
σκιάδες of the Spartan Carneia (also in the heat of summer), described
in Athenaeus, 4. 141 F.
Footnote 778:
Müller-Deecke, _Etrusker_, ii. 54, with Deecke’s note 51 b. The
Etruscan forms are Nethunus and Nethuns. The form of the word is
adjectival like Portunus, &c.; but what is the etymology of the first
syllable? We are reminded of course of Nepe or Nepete, an inland town
near Falerii; and to this district the cult seems specially to have
belonged. Messapus, ‘Neptunia proles,’ leads the Falisci and others to
war in Virg. _Aen._ 7. 691, and Halesus, Neptuni filius, was eponymous
hero of Falerii (Deecke, _Falisker_, 103). There is no known connexion
of Neptunus with any coast town.
Footnote 779:
13. 23. 2: cp. Varro, _L. L._ 5. 72.
Footnote 780:
See above, p. 60.
Footnote 781:
Cp. Serv. _Aen._ 5. 724 ‘(Venus) dicitur et Salacia, quae proprie
meretricum dea appellata est a veteribus.’
Footnote 782:
Gell. 5. 12; Henzen, _Act. Fratr. Arv._ 124. Wissowa, in his article
‘Neptunus,’ goes too far, as it seems to me, when he asserts that the
‘pater’ belonged to all deities of the oldest religion. See below, p.
220.
Footnote 783:
Liv. 5. 13. 6; Dionys. 12. 9. Wissowa, _Lex._ s. v. Nept. 203, for his
further history as Poseidon.
Footnote 784:
Wissowa in _Lex._ l. c. I doubt if much can be made of the argument
that the Neptunalia on the 23rd is necessarily connected with the
Lucaria on the 17th and 19th—i. e. three alternate days, like the
three days of the Lemuria in May.
Footnote 785:
Varro, _L. L._ 5. 84 ‘Furinalis (flamen) a Furina quoius etiam in
fastis Furinales feriae sunt’: cp. 6. 19 ‘Ei sacra instituta annua et
flamen attributus: nunc vix nomen notum paucis.’
Footnote 786:
See Wissowa’s short and sensible note in _Lex._ s. v. Furrina. For the
confusion with Furiae, Cic. _de Nat. Deor._ 3. 46; Plut. _C. Gracch._
17; _Lex._ s. v. Furiae. Jordan, in Preller, ii. 70, is doubtful on
the etymological question.
Footnote 787:
p. 71.
Footnote 788:
In Preller, ii. 121.
Footnote 789:
_Röm. Jahr_, 221.
MENSIS SEXTILIS.
August is with us the month when the corn-harvest is begun; in Italy it
is usually completed in July, and the final harvest-festivals, when all
the operations of housing, &c., have been brought to a close, would
naturally have fallen for the primitive Roman farmer in the sixth month.
The Kalends of Quinctilis would be too early a date for notice to be
given of these; some farmers might be behindhand, and so cut off from
participation. The Kalends of Sextilis would do well enough; for by the
Nones, before which no festival could be held, there would be a general
cessation from labour. No other agricultural operations would then for a
time be specially incumbent on the farmer[790].
Before the Ides we find no great festival in the old calendar, though
the sacrifice on the 12th at the _ara maxima_ was without doubt of great
antiquity. The list begins with the Portunalia on the 17th; and then
follow, with a day’s interval between each, the Vinalia Rustica,
Consualia, Volcanalia, Opeconsivia, and Volturnalia. The Vinalia had of
course nothing to do with harvest, and the character of the Portunalia
and Volturnalia is almost unknown; but all the rest may probably have
had some relation to the harvesting and safe-keeping of crops, and the
one or two scraps of information we possess about the Portunalia bear in
the same direction. Deities of fire and water seem to be propitiated at
this time, in order to preserve the harvest from disaster by either
element. The rites are secret and mysterious, the places of worship not
familiar temples, but the _ara maxima_, the underground altar of Consus,
or the Regia; which may perhaps account for the comparatively early
neglect and decadence of some of these feasts. We may also note two
other points: first, the rites gather for the most part in the vicinity
of the Aventine, the Circus Maximus, and the bank of the Tiber; which in
the earliest days must have been the part of the cultivated land nearest
the city[791], or at any rate that part of it where the crops were
stored. Secondly, there is a faint trace of commerce and connexion
between Rome and her neighbours—Latins and Sabines—both in the rites and
legends of this month, which may perhaps point to an intercourse,
whether friendly or hostile, brought about by the freedom and
festivities of harvest time.
NON. SEXT. (AUG. 5). F. (NP. ANT.)
SALUTI IN COLLE QUIRINALE SACRIFICIUM PUBLICUM. (VALL.)
SALUTI IN COLLE. (AMIT. ANT.)
NATALIS SALUTIS. (PHILOC.)
The date of the foundation of the temple of Salus was 302 B.C., during
the Samnite wars[792]. The cult was probably not wholly new. The
_Augurium Salutis_, which we know through its revival by Augustus, was
an ancient religious performance at the beginning of each year, or at
the accession of new consuls, which involved, first the ascertaining
whether prayers would be acceptable to the gods, and secondly the
offering of such prayers on an auspicious day[793]. Two very old
inscriptions also suggest that the cult was well distributed in Italy at
an early period[794]. Such impersonations of abstract ideas as Salus,
Concordia, Pax, Spes, &c., do not belong to the oldest stage of
religion, but were no doubt of pontifical origin, i. e. belonged to the
later monarchy or early republic[795]. We need not suppose that they
were due to the importation of Greek cults and ideas, though in some
cases they became eventually overlaid with these. They were generated by
the same process as the gods of the Indigitamenta[796]—being in fact an
application to the life of the state of that peculiarly Roman type of
religious thought which conceived a distinct _numen_ as presiding over
every act and suffering of the individual. This again, as I believe, in
its product the Indigitamenta, was an artificial priestly exaggeration
of a very primitive tendency to see a world of nameless spirits
surrounding and influencing all human life.
The history of the temple is interesting[797]. Not long after its
dedication its walls were painted by Gaius Fabius, consul in 269 B.C.,
whose descendants, among them the historian, bore the name of Pictor, in
commemoration of a feat so singular for a Roman of that age[798]. It was
struck by lightning no less than four times, and burnt down in the reign
of Claudius. Livy[799] tells us that in 180 B.C., by order of the
decemviri a supplicatio was held, in consequence of a severe pestilence,
in honour of Apollo, Aesculapius, and Salus; which shows plainly that
the goddess was already being transformed into the likeness of the Greek
῾Υγίεια, and associated rather with public health than with public
wealth in the most general sense of the word.
VI ID. SEXT. (AUG. 9). F. (ALLIP.) NP. (AMIT. MAFF. ETC.)
SOLI INDIGITI IN COLLE QUIRINALE. (AMIT. ALLIF.)
SOL[IS] INDIGITIS IN COLLE QUIRINALE SACRIFICIUM PUBLICUM. (VALL.)
There was an ancient worship of Sol on the Quirinal, which was believed
to be of Sabine origin. A _Solis pulvinar_ close to the temple of
Quirinus is mentioned, and the Gens Aurelia was said to have had charge
of the cult[800].
But the Sol of August 9 is called in the calendars _Sol Indiges_. What
are we to understand by this word, which appears in the names Di
Indigetes, Jupiter Indiges, or Indigetes simply? The Roman scholars
themselves were not agreed on the point; the general opinion was that it
meant ‘of or belonging to a certain place,’ i. e. fixed there by origin
and protecting it[801]. This view has also been generally adopted, on
etymological or other grounds, by modern writers, including
Preller[802]. Recently a somewhat different explanation has been put
forward in the _Mythological Lexicon_, suggested by Reifferscheid in his
lectures at Breslau. According to this view, _Indiges_ (from _indu_ and
root _ag_ in _agere_) was a deity working in a particular act, business,
place, &c., of men’s activity, and in no other; it is of pontifical
origin, like its cognate _indigitamenta_, and is therefore not a
survival from the oldest religious forms[803].
The second of these explanations does not seem to help us to understand
what was meant by Sol Indiges; and its exponent in the _Lexicon_, in
order to explain this, falls back on an ingenious suggestion made long
ago by Preller. In dealing with Sol Indiges, Preller explained Indiges
as = _index_, and conjectured that the name was not given to Sol until
after the eclipse which foretold the death of Caesar, comparing the
lines of Virgil (_Georg._ 1. 463 foll.):
Sol tibi signa dabit. Solem quis dicere falsum
Audeat? ille etiam caecos instare tumultus
Saepe monet, fraudemque et operta tumescere bella.
Ille etiam exstincto miseratus Caesare Romam:
Cum caput obscura nitidum ferrugine texit,
Impiaque aeternam timuerunt saecula noctem.
Preller may be right; and if he were, we should have no further trouble
in this case. In the pre-Julian calendar, on this hypothesis, the word
Indiges was absent. This is also the opinion of the last scholar who, so
far as I know, has touched the question; but Wissowa[804], with reason
as I think, reverts to the first explanation given above of the word
Indiges (‘of or belonging to a certain place’), and believes that the
word, when added to Sol in the Julian calendar, was simply meant to
distinguish the real indigenous Sun-god from foreign solar deities.
PRID. ID. SEXT. (AUG. 12). C.
HERCULI INVICTO AD CIRCUM MAXIM[UM]. (ALLIF. AMIT.)
[HERCULI MAGNO CUSTODI IN CIRCO FLAMIN[IO] (VALL.) is generally taken as
a confusion with June 4[805].]
This is the only day to which we can ascribe, on the evidence of the
calendars, the yearly rites of the _ara maxima_, and of the _aedes
Herculis_ in the Forum boarium. These two shrines were close together;
the former just at the entrance of the Circus maximus, the latter, as
has been made clear by a long series of researches, a little to the
north-east of it[806]. We are led to suppose that the two must have been
closely connected in the cult, though we are not explicitly informed on
the point.
The _round_ temple indicates a very ancient worship, as in the case of
the aedes Vestae, and the legends confirm this. The story of Hercules
and Cacus, the foundation-legend of the cult, whatever be its origin,
shows a priesthood of two ancient patrician families, the Potitii and
Pinarii[807]. Appius Claudius, the censor of 312 B.C., is said to have
bribed the Potitii, the chief celebrants, to hand over their duties to
public slaves[808]; but in the yearly rites, consisting chiefly in the
sacrifice of a heifer, these were presided over by the praetor urbanus,
whose connexion with the cult is attested by inscriptions[809]. That
there was at one time a reconstruction of the cult, especially in the
direction of Greek usage, seems indeed probable; for the praetor wore a
laurel wreath and sacrificed with his head uncovered after the Greek
fashion[810]. But there is enough about it that was genuine Roman to
prove that the foundation-legend had some of its roots in an ancient
cult; e. g. at the sacred meal which followed the previous sacrifice in
the evening, the worshippers did not lie down but sat, as was the most
ancient practice both in Greece and Italy[811]. Women were excluded,
which is in keeping with the Italian conception of Hercules as Genius,
or the deity of masculine activity[812]. The sacrifice was followed by a
meal on the remainder, which was perhaps an old practice in Italy, as in
Greece. In this feature, as in two others, we have a very interesting
parallel with this cult, which does not seem to have been noticed, in
the prescription given by Cato for the invocation of Mars on behalf of
the farmer’s cattle[813]. After prescribing the material of the offering
to Mars Silvanus, he goes on as follows: ‘Eam rem divinam _vel servus,
vel liber licebit faciat_. Ubi res divina facta erit, _statim ibidem
consumito_. _Mulier ad eam rem divinam ne adsit_, neve videat quomodo
fiat. Hoc votum in annos singulos, si voles, licebit vovere.’ Here we
have the eating of the remainder[814], the exclusion of women, and the
participation in the cult by slaves; the exclusion of women is very
curious in this case, and seems to show that such a practice was not
confined to worships of a sexual character. It is also worth noting that
just as Cato’s formula invokes Mars Silvanus, so in Virgil’s description
of the cult of the _ara maxima_[815], we find one special feature of
Mars-worship, namely the presence of the _Salii_[816]. It is hardly
possible to suppose that Virgil here was guilty of a wilful confusion:
is it possible, then, that in this cult some form of Mars is hidden
behind Hercules, and that the Hercules of the _ara maxima_ is not the
Genius after all, as modern scholars have persuaded themselves?
But what marks out this curious cult more especially from all others is
the practice of offering on the _ara maxima_ ‘decumae’ or tithes, of
booty, commercial gains, sudden windfalls, and so on[817]. The custom
seems to be peculiar to this cult, though it is proved by inscriptions
of Hercules-cults elsewhere in Italy—e. g. at Sora near Arpinum, at
Reate, Tibur, Capua and elsewhere[818]. But these inscriptions, old as
some of them are, cannot prove that the practice they attest was not
ultimately derived from Rome. At Rome, indeed, there is no question
about it; it is abundantly proved by literary allusions, as well as by
fragments of divine law[819]. Was it an urban survival from an old
Italian rural custom, or was it an importation from elsewhere?
In favour of the first of these explanations is the fact that the
offering of _first-fruits_ was common, if not universal, in rural
Italy[820]. They are not, indeed, known to have been offered specially
to Hercules; but the date, Aug. 12, of the sacrifice at Rome might
suggest an original offering of the first-fruits of the Roman ager,
before the growth of the city had pushed agriculture to some distance
away. Now first-fruits are the oldest form of tribute to a god as ‘the
lord of the land,’ developing in due time into fixed tithes as
temple-ritual becomes more elaborate and expensive[821]. In their
primitive form they are found in all parts of the world, as Mr. Frazer
has shown us in an appendix to the second volume of his _Golden
Bough_[822]. It is certainly possible that in this way the August cult
of the _ara maxima_ may be connected with the general character of the
August festivals; that the offering of the first-fruits of harvest gave
way to a regulated system of tithes[823], of which we find a survival in
the offerings of the tenth part of their booty by great generals like
Sulla and Crassus. As the city grew, and agriculture became less
prominent than military and mercantile pursuits, the practice passed
into a form adapted to these—i. e. the _decumae_ of military booty or
mercantile gain[824].
But there is another possibility which must at least be suggested. The
myth attached to the _ara maxima_ and the Aventine, that of Hercules and
Cacus, stands alone among Italian stories, as the system of tithe-giving
does among Italian practices. We may be certain that the practice did
not spring from the myth; rather that an addition was made to the myth,
when Hercules was described as giving the tenth of his booty, in order
to explain an unusual practice. Yet myth and practice stand in the
closest relation to each other, and the strange thing about each is that
it is unlike its Italian kindred.
Of late years it has become the fashion to claim the myth as genuine
Italian, in spite of its Graeco-Oriental character, on the evidence of
comparative mythology[825]: but no explanation is forthcoming of its
unique character among Italian myths, all of which have a marked
practical tendency, and a relation to some human institution such as the
foundation of a city. They are legends of human beings and practices:
this is an elemental myth familiar in different forms to the Eastern
mind. Again, the Hercules of the myth has nothing in common with the
genuine Italian Hercules, whom we may now accept as = genius, or the
masculine principle—as may be seen from the sorry lameness of the
attempt to harmonize the two[826]. Beyond doubt there was an Italian
spirit or deity to whom the name Hercules was attached: but there is no
need to force all the forms of Hercules that meet us into exact
connexion with the genuine one. We have seen above that the Hercules of
the _ara maxima_ may possibly have concealed Mars himself, in his
original form of a deity of cattle, pasture, and clearings. But there is
yet another possible explanation of this tangled problem.
The Roman form of the Cacus-myth, in which Cacus steals the cattle from
Hercules, and tries to conceal his theft by dragging them backwards into
his cave by their tails, has recently been found in Sicily depicted on a
painted vase, whither, as Professor Gardner has suggested, it may have
been brought by way of Cyprus by Phoenician traders[827]; and the
inference of so cautious an archaeologist is, apparently, that the myth
may have found its way from Sicily to the Tiber. Nothing can be more
probable; for it is certain that even before the eighth century B.C. the
whole western coast of Italy was open first to Phoenician trade and then
to Greek. And we are interested to find that the only other traces of
the myth to be found in Italy are located in places which would be open
to the same influence. From Capua we have a bronze vase on which is
depicted what seems to be the punishment of Cacus by Hercules[828]; and
a fragment of the annalist Gellius gives a story connecting Cacus with
Campania, Etruria, and the East[829]. At Tibur also, which claimed a
Greek origin, there is a faint trace of the myth in an inscription[830].
Now assuming for a moment that the myth was thus imported, is it
impossible that the anomalies of the cult should be foreign also? That
one of them at least which stands out most prominently is a peculiarly
Semitic institution; tithe-giving in its systematized form is found in
the service of that Melcarth who so often appears in Hellas as
Herakles[831]. The coincidence at the Aventine of the name, the myth,
and the practice, is too striking to be entirely passed over—especially
if we cannot find certain evidence of a pure Italian origin, and if we
_do_ find traces of all three where Phoenicians and Greeks are known to
have been. We may take it as not impossible that the _ara maxima_ was
older than the traditional foundation of Rome, and that its cult was
originally not that of the characteristic Italian Hercules, but of an
adventitious deity established there by foreign adventurers.
ID. SEXT. (AUG. 13). NP.
FER[IAE] IOVI. (AMIT. ALLIF.)
DIANAE IN AVENTINO. (AMIT. VALL. ANT. ALLIF.)
SACRUM DEANAE. (RUST.) NATALIS DIANES. (PHILOC.)
VORTUMNO IN AVENTINO. (AMIT. ALLIF.)
HERC[ULI] INVICTO AD PORTAM TRIGEMINAM. (ALLIF.)
CASTORI POLLUCI IN CIRCO FLAMINIO. (AMIT. ALLIF.)
FLORAE AD C[IRCUM] MAXIMUM. (ALLIF.)
All Ides, as we have seen, were sacred to Jupiter; and it does not seem
that there is here any further significance in the note ‘feriae Iovi.’
Though there was a conjunction here of many cults, this day was best
known as that of the dedication of the temple of Diana on the Aventine,
which was traditionally ascribed to Servius Tullius. There are
interesting features in this cult, and indeed in the worship of this
goddess throughout Latium and Italy. For the most famous of all her
cults, that of Aricia[832], I need only refer to Mr. Frazer’s _Golden
Bough_—the most elaborate and convincing examination of any ancient
worship that has yet appeared. Of the goddess in general it will be
sufficient to say here that whatever be the etymology of her name or the
earliest conception of her nature—and both are very far from certain—she
was for the old Latins second only to Jupiter Latiaris in the power she
exercised of uniting communities together and so working in the cause of
civilization. This was the ease with the cult on the Aventine, as it was
also with that at Aricia[833].
About the political origin of the temple on the Aventine tradition was
explicit[834]. Livy says that Servius Tullius persuaded the chiefs of
the Latins to build a temple of Diana in conjunction with the Romans;
and Varro calls it ‘commune Latinorum Dianae templum.’ The ‘lex templi,’
or ordinance for the common worship of Romans and Latins, was seen by
Dionysius—so he declares—written in Greek characters and preserved in
the temple[835]. The horns of a cow[836], hung up in front of this
temple, gave rise to legends, one of which is preserved by Livy, and
seems to bring the Sabines also into the connexion. This temple was,
then, from the beginning in some sense extra-Roman, i. e. did not belong
to the purely Roman gentile worship. And it had other characteristics of
the same kind; it was specially connected with the Plebs and with
slaves, and as, in the case of the neighbouring temple at Ceres, there
was a Greek character in the cult from the beginning.
I. _The Connexion with the Plebs._ The position on the Aventine would of
itself be some evidence of a non-patrician origin; so also the
traditional ascription to Servius Tullius as the founder. More direct
evidence seems wanting[837], but it is not impossible that the temple
marks a settlement of Latins in this part of the city.
II. _The Connexion with Slaves._ The day was a holiday for slaves[838],
perhaps after the work of harvest. There was one other Latin goddess,
Feronia, who was especially beloved by emancipated slaves[839]; and as
Feronia was a deity both of markets and harvests, there is something to
be said for the suggestion[840] that both slave holidays and slave
emancipation would find a natural place on occasions of this kind. It
would seem also that this temple was an asylum for runaway or criminal
slaves—a fact which slips out in Festus’ curious reproduction of a gloss
of Verrius Flaccus[841]: ‘Servorum dies festus vulgo existimatur Idus
Aug., quod eo die Servius Tullius, natus servus, aedem Dianae
dedicaverit in Aventino, cuius tutelae sint cervi, a quo celeritate
fugitivos vocent servos.’ The stag, as the favourite beast of Diana, may
perhaps have a Greek origin; but the inference from the false etymology
remains the same.
III. _The Greek Character in the Cult._ As in the case of Ceres, the
temple-foundations of this age might naturally have a Greek character,
owing to the foreign relations of the Etruscan dynasty in Rome[842]. We
have already noticed the lex templi, said to have been written in Greek
characters. It is a still more striking fact that there was in this
temple a ξόανον, or wooden statue of Diana, closely resembling that of
Artemis at Massilia, which was itself derived from the famous temple at
Ephesus[843]. The transference to Diana of the characteristics of
Artemis was no doubt quite natural and easy; for, hard as it is to
distinguish the Greek and Italian elements in the cult, we know enough
of some at least of the latter to be sure that they would easily lend
themselves to a Greek transformation. This transformation must have
begun at a very early period, for in B.C. 398 we find Diana already
associated with Apollo and Latona, in the first _lectisternium_
celebrated at Rome, where she certainly represented Artemis[844].
On the whole this temple and its cult seem a kind of anticipation of the
great temple on the Capitol, in marking an advance in the progress of
Rome from the narrow life of a small city-state to a position of
influence in Western Italy. The advance of the Plebs, the emancipation
of slaves, the new relations with Latin cities, and the introduction of
Greek religious ideas are all reflected here. New threads are being
woven into the tissue of Roman social and political life.
The close relation of Diana to human life is not very difficult to
explain. Like Fortuna, Juno Lucina, Bona Dea, and others, she was a
special object of the worship of women; she assisted the married woman
at childbirth[845]; and on this day the Roman women made a special point
of washing their heads[846]—an unusual performance, perhaps, which has
been explained by reference to the sanctity of the head among primitive
peoples[847]. But Diana, like Silvanus, with whom she is found in
connexion[848], was no doubt originally a spirit of holy trees and
woods, i. e. of wild life generally, who became gradually reclaimed and
brought into friendly and useful relations with the Italian farmer, his
wife, and his cattle[849].
This was also the _dies natalis_ of another temple on the Aventine, that
of Vortumnus, which was dedicated in B.C. 264 by the consul M. Fulvius
Flaccus[850]. About the character of this god there is fortunately no
doubt. Literature here comes to our aid, as it too rarely does:
Propertius[851] describes him elaborately as presiding over gardens and
fruit, and Ovid[852] tells a picturesque story of his love for Pomona
the fruit-goddess, whose antiquity at Rome is proved by the fact that
she had a flamen of her own[853]. The date, August 13, when the fruit
would be ripe, suits well enough with all we know of Vortumnus.
The god had a bronze statue in the Vicus Tuscus, and perhaps for that
reason was believed to have come to Rome from Etruria[854]. But his
name, like Picumnus, is beyond doubt Latin, and may be supposed to
indicate the turn or change in the year at the fruit-season[855]; and if
he really was an immigrant, which is possible, his original cult in
Etruria was not Etruscan proper, but old Italian.
Three other dedications are mentioned in the calendars as occurring on
Aug. 13: to Hercules invictus ad portam trigeminam; to Castor and Pollax
in circo Flaminio; and to Flora ad circum maximum. Of these cults
nothing of special interest is known, and the deities are treated of in
other parts of this work.
XVI KAL. SEPT. (AUG. 17). NP.
PORT[UNALIA]. (MAFF. AMIT. VALL.)
TIBERINALIA. (PHILOC.)
FERIAE PORTUNO. (AMIT. ANT.)
PORTUNO AD PONTEM AEMILIUM. (AMIT. VALL. ALLIF.)
IANO AD THEATRUM MARCELLI. (VALL. ALLIF.)
Who was Portunus, and why was his festival in August? Why was it at the
Pons Aemilius, and where was that bridge? Can any connexion be found
between this and the other August rites? These questions cannot be
answered satisfactorily; the scraps of evidence are too few and too
doubtful. We have here to do with another ancient deity, who survives in
the calendars only, and in the solitary record that he had a special
flamen. This flamen might be a plebeian[856], which seems to suit with
the character of other cults in the district by the Tiber, and may
perhaps point to a somewhat later origin than that of the most ancient
city worships.
There are but two or three texts which help us to make an uncertain
guess at the nature of Portunus. Varro[857] wrote ‘Portunalia et
Portuno, quoi eo die aedes in portu Tiberino facta et feriae
institutae.’ Mommsen takes the _portus_ here as meaning Ostia at the
mouth of the Tiber, and imagines a yearly procession thither from Rome
on this day[858]. This of course is pure hypothesis; but if, as he
insists, _portus_ is rarely or never used for a city wharf on a river
such as that at Rome, we may perhaps accept it provisionally; but in
doing so we have to yield another point to Mommsen, viz. the identity of
Portunus and Tiberinus. In the very late calendar of Philocalus this day
is called Tiberinalia, and from this Mommsen infers the identity of the
two deities[859].
But it may be that the original Portunus had no immediate connexion
either with river or harbour. We find a curious but mutilated note in
the Veronese commentary on Virgil[860]: ‘Portunus, ut Varro ait, deus
port[uum porta]rumque praeses. Quare huius dies festus Portunalia, qua
apud veteres claves in focum add ... mare institutum.’ Huschke[861] here
conjectured ‘addere et infumare,’ and inferred that we should see in
Portunus the god of the gates and keys which secured the stock of corn,
&c., in storehouses. Wild as this writer’s conjectures usually are, in
this case it seems to me possible that he has hit the mark. If the words
‘claves in focum’ are genuine, as they seem to be, we can hardly avoid
the conclusion that something was done to keys on this day; perhaps the
old keys of very hard wood were held in the fire to harden them
afresh[862]. It is worth noting that according to Verrius[863] Portunus
was supposed ‘clavim manu tenere et deus esse portarum.’ This would suit
very well with harvest-time, when barns and storehouses would be
repaired and their gates and fastenings looked to—more especially as it
is not unlikely that the word _portus_ originally meant a safe place of
any kind, and only as civilization advanced became specially
appropriated to harbours[864]. This appropriation may have come about
through the medium of storehouses near the Tiber; and it was long ago
suggested by Jordan that these were under the particular care of
Portunus[865].
If Portunus were really a god of keys and doors and storehouses, it
would be natural to look for some close relation between him and Janus.
But what can be adduced in favour of such a relation does not amount to
much[866]; and it may have been merely by accident that this was the
dedication-day of a temple of Janus ‘ad theatrum Marcelli’[867].
XIV KAL. SEPT. (AUG. 19). FP. (MAFF. AMIT.) F.
(ANT. ALLIF.) NP. (VALL.[868])
VIN[ALIA]. (MAFF. VALL. AMIT. ETC.)
FERIAE IOVI. (ALLIF.)
VENERI AD CIRCUM MAXIMUM. (VALL.)
The ‘Aedes Veneris ad Circum Maximum’ alluded to in the _Fasti
Vallenses_ was dedicated in 295 B.C., and the building was begun at the
expense of certain matrons who were fined for adultery[869]. As has been
already explained, no early connexion can be proved between Venus and
wine or the vintage[870]; though both August 19 and April 23, the days
of the two Vinalia, were dedication-days of temples of the goddess.
The difficult question of the two festivals called Vinalia has been
touched upon under April 23. The one in August was known as Vinalia
Rustica[871], and might naturally be supposed to be concerned with the
ripening grapes. It has been conjectured[872] that it was on this day,
which one calendar marks as a festival of Jupiter, that the Flamen
Dialis performed the _auspicatio vindemiae_, i. e. plucked the first
grapes, and prayed and sacrificed for the safety of the whole crop[873].
If it be argued that August 23 was too early a date for such a rite,
since the vintage was never earlier than the middle of September, we may
remember that the Vestal Virgins plucked the first ears of corn as early
as the first half of May for the purpose of making sacred cakes, some
weeks before the actual harvest[874].
But it is certainly possible that both Vinalia have to do with wine, and
not with the vintage. Festus says that this day was a festival because
the new wine was then first brought into the city[875]; and this does
not conflict with Varro[876], who tells us that on this day _fiunt
feriati olitores_—for it would naturally be a day of rejoicing for the
growers. Mommsen, with some reason, refers these passages to the later
custom of not opening the wine of the last vintage for a year[877], in
which case the year must be understood roughly as from October to
August. He would, in fact, explain this second Vinalia as instituted
when this later and more luxurious custom arose, the old rule of a six
months’ period surviving in the April ceremony. If we ask why the August
Vinalia are called Rustica, Mommsen answers that the country growers
were now at liberty to bring in their wine.
It is difficult to decide between these conflicting views. When an
authority like Mommsen bids us beware of connecting the Vinalia Rustica
with the _auspicatio vindemiae_, we feel that it is at our peril that we
differ from him. He is evidently quite unable to look upon such a date
as August 19 as in any way associated with the vintage which followed
some weeks later. Yet I cannot help thinking, that this association is
by no means impossible; for the grapes would by this time be fully
formed on the vines, and the next few weeks would be an anxious time for
the growers[878]. Ceremonies like that of the Auspicatio, intended to
avert from crops the perils of storm or disease, are known sometimes to
take place when the crops are still unripe. I have already alluded to
the proceedings of the Vestals in May. Mr. Frazer, in an Appendix to his
_Golden Bough_[879], gives a curious instance of this kind from Tonga in
the Pacific Ocean, where what we may call the auspicatio of the Yam-crop
took place before the whole crop was fit for gathering. It was
celebrated ‘just before the yams in general are arrived at a state of
maturity; those which are used in this ceremony being planted sooner
than others, and consequently they are the firstfruits of the yam
season. The object of this offering is to ensure the protection of the
gods, that their favour may be extended to the welfare of the nation
generally and in particular to the productions of the earth, of which
yams are the most important.’
XII KAL. SEPT. (AUG. 21). NP.
CONS[UALIA]. (PINC. MAFF. VALL. ETC.)
CONSO IN AVENTINO SACRIFICIUM. (VALL.)
There was a second festival of Consus on Dec. 15; but the note ‘Conso in
Aventino’ there appears three days earlier, Dec. 12. The temple on the
Aventine was a comparatively late foundation[880]; but as the cult of
this old god became gradually obscured, it seems to have been confused
with the most ancient centre of Consus-worship, the underground altar in
the Circus maximus, ‘ad primas metas’[881]. It is with this latter that
we must connect the two Consualia. What the altar was like we do not
exactly know; it was only uncovered on the festival days. Dionysius
calls it a τέμενος, Servius a ‘templum sub tecto’; and Tertullian, who
explicitly says that it was ‘sub terra,’ asserts that there was engraved
on it the following inscription: ‘Consus consilio, Mars duello, Lares
coillo[882] potentes.’ Wissowa remarks that this statement ‘is not free
from suspicion’; and we may take it as pretty certain that if it was
really there it was not very ancient. The false etymology of Consus, and
the connexion of Mars with war, both show the hand of some comparatively
late interpreter of religion; and the form of the inscription,
nominative and descriptive, is most suspiciously abnormal.
For the true etymology of Consus we are, strange to say, hardly in
doubt; and it helps us to conjecture the real origin of this curious
altar. Consus is connected with ‘condere’[883], and may be interpreted
as the god of the stored-up harvest; the buried altar will thus be a
reminiscence of the very ancient practice—sometimes of late suggested as
worth reviving for hay—of storing the corn underground[884]. Or if this
practice cannot be proved of ancient Italy, we may aptly remember that
sacrifices to chthonic deities were sometimes buried; a practice which
may in earliest times have given rise to the connexion of such gods with
wealth—when agricultural produce rather than the precious metals was the
common form of wealth[885]. Or again we may combine the two
interpretations, and guess that the corn stored up underground was
conceived as in some sense sacrificed to the chthonic deities.
If these views of the altar are correct, we might naturally infer that
the Consualia in August was a harvest festival of some kind.
Plutarch[886] asks why at the Consualia horses and asses have a holiday
and are decked out with flowers; and such a custom would suit
excellently with harvest-home. Unluckily in the only trace of this
custom preserved in the calendars, it is attributed to the December
festival, and is so mutilated as to be useless for detail[887].
FERIAE CONSO EQUI ET [MULI FLORIBUS CORONANTUR].
QUOD IN EIUS TU[TELA SUNT].
[ITA]QUE REX EQUO [VECTUS].
The amplifications here are Mommsen’s, the first two based on Plutarch’s
statement. It is a difficulty, as regards the first, that the middle of
December would be a bad time for flowers: perhaps this did not occur to
the great scholar. I would suggest that either Verrius’ note is here
accidentally misplaced, or that the lacunae must be filled up
differently. In any case I do not think we need fear to refer Plutarch’s
passage to the Consualia of August, and therefore to harvest rejoicings
on that day.
The connexion of the Consus-cult with horses was so obvious as to give
rise eventually to the identification of the god with Poseidon Hippios.
It is certain that there were horse-races in the Circus maximus at one
of the two Consualia, and as Dionysius[888] connects them with the day
of the Rape of the Sabines, which Plutarch puts in August, we may be
fairly sure that they took place at the August festival. Mules also
raced—according to Festus[889], because they were said to be the most
ancient beasts of burden. This looks like a harvest festival, and may
carry us back to the most primitive agricultural society and explain the
origin of the Circus maximus; for the only other horse-races known to us
from the old calendar were those of Mars in the Campus Martius on Feb.
27 and March 13[890]. We may suppose that when the work of harvest was
done, the farmers and labourers enjoyed themselves in this way and laid
the foundation for a great Roman social institution[891].
Once more, it is not impossible that in the legendary connexion of the
Rape of the Sabine women with the Consualia[892] we may see a reflection
of the jollity and license which accompanies the completion of harvest
among so many peoples. Romulus was said to have attracted the Sabines by
the first celebration of the Consualia. Is it not possible that the
meeting of neighbouring communities on a festive occasion of this kind
may have been a favourable opportunity for capturing new wives[893]? The
sexual license common on such occasions has been abundantly illustrated
by Mr. Frazer in his _Golden Bough_[894].
Before leaving the Consualia we may just remark that Consus had no
flamen of his own, in spite of his undoubted antiquity; doubtless
because his altar was underground, and only opened once or perhaps twice
a year. On August 21 his sacrifice was performed, says Tertullian[895],
by the Flamen Quirinalis in the presence of the Vestals. This flamen
seems to have had a special relation to the corn-crops, for it was he
who also sacrificed a dog to Robigus on April 25[896], to avert the
mildew from them; and thus we get one more confirmation from the cult of
the view taken as to the agricultural origin of the Consualia.
X KAL. SEPT. (AUG. 23). NP.
VOLCANALIA. (PINC. MAFF. VALL. ETC.)
VOLCANO IN CIRCO FLAMINIO. (VALL.)
VOLCANO. (PINC.)
(A mutilated fragment of the calendar of the Fratres Arvales gives
QUIR[INO] IN COLLE, VOLK[ANO] IN COMIT[IO]. OPI OPIFER[AE] IN ...,
[NYMP]HIS(?) IN CAMPO).
Of the cult of this day, apart from the extracts from the calendars, we
know nothing, except that the heads of Roman families threw into the
fire certain small fish with scales, which were to be had from the Tiber
fishermen at the ‘area Volcani’[897]. We cannot explain this; but it
reminds us of the fish called _maena_, with magical properties, which
the old woman offered to Tacita and the ghost-world at the
Parentalia[898]. Fish-sacrifices were rare; and if in one rite fish are
used to propitiate the inhabitants of the underworld, they seem not
inappropriate in another of which the object is apparently to propitiate
the fire-god, who in a volcanic country like that of Rome must surely be
a chthonic deity.
The antiquity of the cult of Volcanus is shown by the fact that there
was a Flamen Volcanalis[899], who on May 1 sacrificed to Maia, the
equivalent, as we saw, of Bona Dea, Terra, &c. With Volcanus we may
remember that Maia was coupled in the old prayer formula preserved by
Gellius (13.23)—_Maia Volcani_. From these faint indications
Preller[900] conjectured that the original notion of Volcanus was that
of a favouring nature-spirit, perhaps of the warmth and fertilizing
power of the earth. However this may be, in later times, under
influences which can only be guessed at, he became a hostile fire-god,
hard to keep under control. Of this aspect of him Wissowa has written
concisely at the conclusion of his little treatise _de Feriis_. He
suggests that the appearance of the nymphs[901] in the rites of this day
indicates the use of water in conflagrations, and that Ops Opifera was
perhaps invoked to protect her own storehouses. The name Volcanus became
a poetical word for devouring fire as early as the time of Ennius, and
is familiar to us in this sense in Virgil[902]. After the great fire at
Rome in Nero’s time a new altar was erected to Volcanus by Domitian, at
which (and at all Volcanalia) on this day a red calf and a boar were
offered for sacrifice[903]. At Ostia the cult became celebrated; there
was an ‘aedes’ and a ‘pontifex Volcani’ and a ‘praetor sacris Volcani
faciundis.’ In August the storehouses at Ostia would be full of new
grain arrived from Sicily, Africa, and Egypt, and in that hot month
would be especially in danger from fire; an elaborate cult of Volcanus
the fire-god was therefore at this place particularly desirable.
The aedes Volcani in circo Flaminio was dedicated before 215 B.C.; the
exact date is not known[904]. Its position was explained by
Vitruvius[905] as having the object of keeping conflagrations away from
the city. Mr. Jevons, in his Introduction to a translation of Plutarch’s
_Quaestiones Romanae_[906], has argued from this position, outside the
pomoerium, and from a doubtful etymology, that the cult of Volcanus was
a foreign introduction; but the position of the temple is no argument,
as has been well shown by Aust[907], and the chief area Volcani, or
Volcanal, was in the Comitium, in the heart of the city[908].
IX KAL. SEPT. (AUG. 24). MUNDUS PATET.
This does not appear in the calendars. We learn from Festus[909] that on
this day, on Oct. 5, and Nov. 8, the ‘mundus’ was open. This mundus was
a round pit on the Palatine, the centre of Roma quadrata[910]—the
concave hollow being perhaps supposed to correspond to the concave sky
above[911]. It was closed, so it was popularly believed, by a ‘lapis
manalis’ (Festus s. v.). When this was removed, on the three days there
was supposed to be free egress for the denizens of the underworld[912].
I am much inclined to see in this last idea a later Graeco-Etruscan
accretion upon a very simple original fact. O. Müller long ago
suggested this—pointing out that in Plutarch’s description of the
foundation of Roma quadrata the casting into the trench of
first-fruits of all necessaries of life gives us a clue to the
original meaning of the mundus. If we suppose that it was the _penus_
of the new city—a sacred place, of course—used for storing grain, we
can see why it should be open on Aug. 24[913]. Nor is it difficult to
understand why, when the original use and meaning had vanished, the
Graeco-Etruscan doctrine of the underworld should be engrafted on this
simple Roman stem. Dis and Proserpina claim the mundus: it is ‘ianua
Orci,’ ‘faux Plutonis’[914]—ideas familiar to Romans who had come
under the spell of Etruscan religious beliefs.
VIII KAL. SEPT. (AUG. 25). NP.
OPIC[ONSIVIA]. (ALLIF. MAFF. VALL.)
OPICID. (PINC.) The last two letters must be a cutter’s error.
FERIAE OPI; OPI CONSIV. IN REGIA. (ARV.) The last four words seem to
belong to Aug. 26 (see Mommsen ad loc.).
This festival follows that of Consus after an interval of three days;
and Wissowa[915] has pointed out that in December the same interval
occurs between the Consualia (15th) and the Opalia (19th). This and the
epithet or cognomen Consiva, which is fully attested[916], led him to
fancy that Ops was the wife of Consus, and not the wife of Saturnus, as
has been generally supposed both in ancient and modern times[917]. We
may agree with him that there is no real evidence for any _primitive_
connexion of Saturnus and Ops of this kind; as far as we can tell the
idea was adopted from the relation of Cronos and Rhea. But there was no
need to find any husband for Ops; the name Consiva need imply no such
relation, any more than Lua Saturni, Moles Martis, Maia Volcani, and the
rest[918], or the Tursa Iovia of the Iguvian inscription so often
quoted. Both adjectival and genitive forms are in my view no more than
examples of the old Italian instinct for covering as much ground as
possible in invoking supernatural powers[919]; and this is again a
result of the indistinctness with which those powers were conceived, in
regard both to their nature and function. A distinct specialization of
function was, I am convinced, the later work of the pontifices. Ops and
Consus are obviously closely related; and Wissowa is probably right in
treating the one as a deity ‘messis condendae,’ and the other as
representing the ‘opima frugum copia quae horreis conditur.’ But when he
goes further than this, his arguments ring hollow[920].
Of the ritual of the Opiconsivia we know only what Varro tells us[921]:
‘Opeconsiva dies ab dea Ope Consiva, quoius in Regia sacrarium, quod
ideo actum (so MSS.) ut eo praeter Virgines Vestales et sacerdotem
publicum introeat nemo.’ Many conjectures have been made for the
correction of ‘quod ideo actum’[922]; but the real value of the passage
does not depend on these words. The Regia is the king’s house, and
represents that of the ancient head of the family: the sacrarium Opis
was surely then the sacred _penus_ of that house—the treasury of the
fruits of the earth on which the family subsisted. It suits admirably
with this view that, as Varro says, only the Vestals and a ‘publicus
sacerdos’ were allowed to enter it—i. e. the form was retained from
remote antiquity that the daughters of the house were in charge of
it[923]—the master of the house being here represented by the
sacerdos—the rex sacrorum or a pontifex. In this connexion it is worth
while to quote a passage of Columella[924] which seems to be derived
from some ancient practice of the rural household: ‘Ne contractentur
pocula vel _cibi_ nisi aut ab impube aut certe abstinentissimo rebus
venereis, quibus si fuerit operatus vel vir vel femina debere eos
flumine aut perenni aqua priusquam penora contingant ablui. Propter quod
his necessarium esse pueri vel virginis ministerium, per quos promantur
quae usus postulaverit.’
VI KAL. SEPT. (AUG. 27). NP.
VOLT[URNALIA]. (ALLIF. MAFF. VALL.)
FERIAE VOLTURNO. (ARV. INTER ADDITA POSTERIORA.)
VOLTURNO FLUMINI SACRIFICIUM. (VALL.)
Of this very ancient and perhaps obsolete rite nothing seems to have
been known to the later Latin scholars, or they did not think it worth
comment. Varro mentions a Flamen Volturnalis, but tells us nothing about
him. From the occurrence of the name for a river in Campania it may be
guessed that the god in this case was a river also; and if so, it must
be the Tiber. This is Mommsen’s conclusion, and the only difficulty he
finds in it is that (in his view) Portunus is also the Tiber[925]. Why
did he not see that the same river-god, even if bearing different names,
could hardly have two flamines? I am content to see in Volturnus an old
name for the Tiber, signifying the winding snake-like river[926], and in
Portunus a god of storehouses, as I have explained above.
Here, then, we perhaps have a trace of the lost cult of the Tiber, which
assuredly must have existed in the earliest times—and the _flamen_ is
the proof of its permanent importance. When the name was changed to
Tiber we do not know, nor whether ‘Albula’ marks an intermediate stage
between the two; but that this was the work of the pontifices seems
likely from Servius[927], who writes ‘Tiberinus ... a pontificibus
indigitari solet.’ Of a god Tiberinus there is no single early record.
It should just be mentioned that Jordan[928], relying on Lucretius, 5.
745, thought it probable that Volturnus might be a god of whirlwinds;
and Huschke[929] has an even wilder suggestion, which need not here be
mentioned.
Footnote 790:
Varro, _R. R._ I. 33, has only the following: ‘Quinto intervallo,
inter caniculam et aequinoctium auctumnale oportet stramenta desecari,
et acervos construi, aratro offringi, frondem caedi, prata irrigua
iterum secari.’
Footnote 791:
This is the natural position for the _ager_ of the oldest community on
the Palatine. The Campus Martius was believed to have been ‘king’s
land’ of the later developed city (Liv. 2. 5).
Footnote 792:
Liv. 10. 1. 9; Aust, _de Aedibus sacris_, p. 10.
Footnote 793:
Marq. 377; Dio Cass. 37. 24 and 25; Tac. _Ann._ 12. 23.
Footnote 794:
_C. I. L._ i. 49 and 179.
Footnote 795:
See Preller, ii. 228; and article ‘Sacerdos’ in _Dict. of
Antiquities_, new edition.
Footnote 796:
On this difficult subject see _Dict. of Antiquities_, s.v.
Indigitamenta; and the long and exhaustive article by R. Peter in
Roscher’s _Lexicon_ (which is, however, badly written, and in some
respects, I think, misleading).
Footnote 797:
See the valuable summary of Aust (in ten lines).
Footnote 798:
Plin. _N. H._ 35. 19.
Footnote 799:
40. 19.
Footnote 800:
Paulus, 23; Quintil. 1. 7. 12; Varro, _L. L._ 5. 52 (from the ‘sacra
Argeorum’), if we read ‘adversum Solis pulvinar cis aedem Salutis.’
The name is said to be connected with the Umbrian and Etruscan god of
light, Usil, a word thought to be recognizable in Aurelius (=
Auselius, Varro, l. c.), and in the Ozeul of the Salian hymn
(Wordsworth, _Fragments and Specimens of Early Latin_, p. 564 foll.).
Footnote 801:
So e. g. Virgil, _Georg._ 1. 498 ‘Di patrii indigites et Romule
Vestaque Mater.’ Peter, in _Lex._ s. v. Indigitamenta, 132.
Footnote 802:
i. 325.
Footnote 803:
_Lex._ s. v. Indigitamenta, 137.
Footnote 804:
Wissowa, _de Romanorum Indigetibus et Novensidibus_ (Marburg, 1892).
Footnote 805:
Merkel, _Praef. in Ov. Fastos_, cxxxv; Mommsen, _C. I. L._ 324.
Footnote 806:
_Lex._ s. v. Hercules, 2903 foll., where R. Peter has summarized and
criticized all the various opinions.
Footnote 807:
Liv. I. 7.
Footnote 808:
Dionys. I. 40, who says that the duties were performed by slaves in
his day. See _Lex._ 2925 for a long list of conjectures about this
part of the legend. The Potitii never occur in inscriptions; and I
think with Jordan (Preller, ii. 291) that the name is imaginary,
invented to account for the functions of the slaves.
Footnote 809:
_C. I. L._ vi. 312-319, found on the site of the _aedes_.
Footnote 810:
Macrob. 3. 12. 2; Varro, _L. L._ 6. 15. The uncovered head also occurs
in the cult of Saturnus; and R. Peter argues that the custom may after
all be old-Italian (_Lex._ 2928).
Footnote 811:
Marquardt, _Privatalterthümer_, vol. i, p. 291.
Footnote 812:
See above, p. 142 foll. Plut. _Qu. Rom._ 60; Macrob. 1. 12. 38. In _Q.
R._ 90 Plutarch notes that no other god might be mentioned at the
sacrifice, and no dog might be admitted.
Footnote 813:
_de Re Rustica_, 83.
Footnote 814:
The word was _profanatum_, opposed to _polluctum_ (see Marq. 149).
Footnote 815:
_Aen._ 8. 281 foll.
Footnote 816:
Salii are found in the cult of Hercules also at Tibur: Macrob. 3. 12.
7. See a note of Jordan in Preller, i. 352.
Footnote 817:
_Lex._ 2931 foll.; _C. I. L._ i. 149 foll.
Footnote 818:
The examples are collected by R. Peter in _Lex._ 2935.
Footnote 819:
Festus, 253, s. v. pollucere merces; Plut. _Qu. Rom._ 18; _Vita
Sullae_, 35; _Crassi_, 2; _Lex._ 2032 foll.
Footnote 820:
Marq. 469; Festus, p. 318, s. v. sacrima.
Footnote 821:
Robertson Smith, _Religion of the Semites_, p. 233.
Footnote 822:
_G. B._ ii. 373 foll.
Footnote 823:
In the legend Hercules gave a tenth part of his booty to the
inhabitants of the place (Dionys 1. 40).
Footnote 824:
See Mommsen in _C. I. L._ i. 150.
Footnote 825:
e. g. in Bréal, _Hercule et Cacus_.
Footnote 826:
See _Lex._ 2286 (R. Peter, quoting Reifferscheid).
Footnote 827:
_Journal of Hellenic Studies_, vol. xiii. 73. Professor Gardner is
inclined to consider the myth as Phoenician rather than Greek, and
attached to the Phoenician Melcarth = Herakles. The vase is in the
Ashmolean Museum, and was found by the Keeper, Mr. Arthur Evans.
Footnote 828:
_Mon. dell’ Inst._ v. 25. But the character of the vase is archaic
Ionian, as Prof. Gardner tells me; _Lex._ 2275.
Footnote 829:
H. Peter, _Fragmenta Hist. Rom._ p. 166 (= Solinus, i. 7).
Footnote 830:
_C. I. L._ xiv. 3555; _Lex._ 2278.
Footnote 831:
Robertson Smith, op. cit. pp. 228 foll., and additional note F.
Footnote 832:
The day of the festival at Aricia is thought to have been also Aug. 13
(_Lex._ s. v. Diana, 1006).
Footnote 833:
Beloch, _Italischer Bund_, 180; Cato (ap. Priscian, 7. 337, ed.
Jordan, p. 41) gives the names of the towns united in and by the
Arician cult—Aricia, Tusculum, Lanuvium, Laurentum, Cora, Tibur,
Pometia, Ardea.
Footnote 834:
Liv. I. 45 Dionys. 4. 26; Varro, _L. L._ 5. 43.
Footnote 835:
Dionys. l. c. See Jordan, _Krit. Beiträge_, 253.
Footnote 836:
So Liv. l. c.: other temples of Diana had deers’ horns, according to
Plutarch, _Q. R._ 4. The cow was Diana’s favourite victim (Marq. 361);
but we cannot be sure that this was not a feature borrowed from the
cult of Artemis (Farnell, _Greek Cults_, ii. 592).
Footnote 837:
The passages from Livy quoted by Steuding (_Lex._ 1008) are hardly to
the point, as the cult is not mentioned in them.
Footnote 838:
Plut. _Q. R._ 100.
Footnote 839:
Serv. _Aen._ 8. 564: cp. Liv. 22. 1, 26. 11.
Footnote 840:
Mannhardt, _A. W. F._ 328 foll.
Footnote 841:
Festus, 343, ‘Servorum dies.’
Footnote 842:
See above, p. 75.
Footnote 843:
Strabo, Bk. 4, p. 180; Farnell, _Greek Cults_, ii. 529 and 592.
Footnote 844:
Liv. 5. 13: Apollo and Latona, Diana and Hercules, Mercurius and
Neptunus.
Footnote 845:
_Lex._ 1007. The excavations at Nemi have produced several votive
offerings in terra cotta of women with children in their arms. Cp.
Ovid, _Fasti_, 3. 269. Plutarch tells us (_Q. R._ 3) that men were
excluded from a shrine of Diana in the Vicus Patricius; but of this
nothing further is known.
Footnote 846:
Plut. _Q. R._ 100; Jevons, _Introduction_, p. lxviii.
Footnote 847:
Frazer, _Golden Bough_, i. 187.
Footnote 848:
_C. I. L._ vi. 656, 658.
Footnote 849:
Frazer, _G. B._ i. 105: cp. Robertson Smith, _Religion of the
Semites_, p. 128 foll. Serv. _Georg._ 3. 332 ‘Ut omnis quercus Iovi
est consecrata, et omnis _lucus_ Dianae.’ (Hor. _Od._ 1. 21.) The
reclaiming of Diana from the woodland to the homestead is curiously
illustrated by an inscription from Aricia (Wilmanns, _Exempla_, 1767)
in which she is identified with Vesta.
Footnote 850:
Aust, _de Aedibus sacris_, p. 15.
Footnote 851:
5. (4.) 2.
Footnote 852:
_Metaph._ 14. 623 foll.; Preller, i. 451.
Footnote 853:
Varro. _L. L._ 7. 45. A god Pomonus (gen. Puemones) occurs in the
Iguvian ritual (Bücheler, _Umbrica_, 158); who may have been identical
with Vortumnus.
Footnote 854:
Varro, _L. L._ 5. 46.
Footnote 855:
Preller, i. 452, and Jordan’s note.
Footnote 856:
Festus, 217, s. v. persillum. All we know of his duties is that he
‘unguit arma Quirini’; the word for the oil or grease he used was
‘persillum.’ Quirinus had his own flamen, who might be supposed to do
this office for him; hence Marq. (328 note) inferred that the god in
this case was a form of Janus, Janus Quirinus. But there is no other
sound evidence for a Janus Quirinus, though Janus and Portunus may be
closely connected.
Footnote 857:
_L. L._ 6. 19.
Footnote 858:
_C. I. L._ 325. He thinks that the _atria Tiberina_ mentioned by Ovid
(_Fasti_, 4. 329) were a station on the route of the procession.
Footnote 859:
Mommsen has not convinced other scholars, e. g. Jordan on Preller, ii.
133, and Marq. 328, who points out that if Volturnus is an old name
for the Tiber, that river-god was already provided with a flamen
(Volturnalis), and a festival in this month (see below on
Volturnalia). I am disposed to think that Mommsen’s critics have the
best of the argument.
Footnote 860:
On _Aen._ 5. 241.
Footnote 861:
_Röm. Jahr_, p. 250. Jordan restored the passage thus: ‘Quo apud
veteres aedes in portu et feriae institutae’ (Preller, i. 178 note).
Footnote 862:
See Marquardt, _Privatalterthümer_, p. 226.
Footnote 863:
Paulus, 56.
Footnote 864:
In Festus, 233, _portus_ is said to have been used for a house in the
Twelve Tables.
Footnote 865:
_Topogr._ i. 430; Marq. agrees (327 note).
Footnote 866:
Preller, i. 177.
Footnote 867:
It was a late foundation, vowed by C. Duilius in the First Punic War
(B.C. 260). When rebuilt by Tiberius (Tac. _Ann._ 2. 49) the
dedication-day became Oct. 18. See Aust, _de Aedibus sacris_, p. 18.
Footnote 868:
See above on April 23, p. 85.
Footnote 869:
Livy, 10. 31; Aust, _de Aedibus sacris_, p. 12.
Footnote 870:
See above, p. 86.
Footnote 871:
Paulus, 264.
Footnote 872:
Preller, i. 196; Marq. 333 note.
Footnote 873:
Varro, _L. L._ 6. 16 ‘Vinalia a vino; Hic dies Iovis, non Veneris;
huius rei cura non levis in Latio; nam aliquot locis vindemiae primum
a sacerdotibus publicae fiebant, ut Romae etiam nunc; nam flamen
Dialis auspicatur vindemiam, et ut iussit vinum legere, agna Iovi
facit, inter quoius exta caesa et porrecta flamen primus vinum legit.’
But this note, coming between others on the Cerialia and Robigalia,
clearly refers to April 23, and the latter part of it must be taken as
simply explaining ‘huius rei cura non levis’ without reference to a
particular day.
Footnote 874:
See above, p. 110.
Footnote 875:
p. 264.
Footnote 876:
_L. L._ 6. 20. The passage in 6. 16, quoted above, ends thus: ‘In
Tusculanis hortis (sortis in MS.) est scriptum: Vinum novum ne vehatur
in urbem antequam Vinalia calentur,’ which may refer to a notice put
up in the vineyards. Another reading is ‘sacris.’
Footnote 877:
_C. I. L._ 316 and 326; Varro, _R. R._ 1. 65.
Footnote 878:
Cf. Pliny, _N. H._ 18. 284. ‘Tria namque tempora fructibus metuebant,
propter quod instituerunt ferias diesque festos, Robigalia, Floralia,
Vinalia.’ I do not see why the Vinalia here should not be the Vinalia
Rustica. Cp. Virg. _Georg._ 2. 419 ‘Et iam maturis metuendus Iuppiter
uvis.’ Hartmann, _Röm. Kal._ 137 foll.
Footnote 879:
Vol. ii. 379.
Footnote 880:
B.C. 272 (Festus, 209; Aust, p. 14).
Footnote 881:
For this altar, Tertull. _Spect._ 5 and 8; Dionys. 1. 33; Tac. _Ann._
12. 24; Serv. _Aen._ 8. 636.
Footnote 882:
No correction of this word seems satisfactory: see Mommsen, _C. I. L._
326.
Footnote 883:
Wissowa, _Lex._ s. v. Consus, 926.
Footnote 884:
Suggested by Mommsen, _C. I. L._ 326, and accepted by Wissowa.
Unluckily Columella (r. 6), in alluding to the practice, says nothing
of its occurrence in Italy. The alternative explanation was suggested
to me by Robertson Smith (_Religion of the Semites_, 107): see also a
note in Müller-Deecke, _Etrusker_, ii. 100; and below on Terminalia
(p. 325).
Footnote 885:
The underground altar of Dis Pater in the Campus Martius, at which the
ludi saeculares were in part celebrated (Zosimus, 2. 1), may have had
a like origin.
Footnote 886:
_Qu. Rom._ 40: cf. Dionys. 1. 33.
Footnote 887:
Fast. Praen.; _C. I. L._ 237.
Footnote 888:
2. 31, where he says that they were kept up in his own day: cf.
Strabo, Bk. 5.3. 2.
Footnote 889:
p. 148.
Footnote 890:
Friedländer in Marq. 482. For the connexion of games with harvest see
Mannhardt. _Myth. Forsch._ 172 foll.
Footnote 891:
Varro (ap. Non. p. 13) quotes an old verse which seems to the point
here: ‘Sibi pastores ludo faciunt coriis consualia.’
Footnote 892:
Varro, _L. L._ 6. 20; Serv. _Aen._ 8. 636; Dionys. 2. 31; Cic. _Rep._
2. 12.
Footnote 893:
See above, p. 178.
Footnote 894:
Vol. ii. 171 foll., 372 foll.
Footnote 895:
_de Spect._ 8.
Footnote 896:
See above, p. 89; Ovid, _Fasti_, 4. 908.
Footnote 897:
Festus, p. 210, s. v. piscatorii ludi (Varro, _L. L._ 6 20). The
latter uses the word ‘animalia,’ and does not mention fish. The fish
were apparently sacrificed at the domestic hearth; but it is doubtful
whether Volcanus was ever a deity of the hearth-fire (see Schwegler,
_R. G._ i. 714; Wissowa, _de Feriis_, xlv).
Footnote 898:
See below, p. 309; Ovid, _Fasti_, 2. 571 foll.
Footnote 899:
See above on May 23, p. 123; Varro, _L. L._ 5. 84; Macrob. 1. 12. 18;
_C. I. L._ vi. 1628.
Footnote 900:
ii. 149.
Footnote 901:
In the mutilated note in Fast. Praen. given above. For Wissowa’s views
as to the mistake of supposing Volcanus to have been a god of smiths,
see above, p. 123 (May 23).
Footnote 902:
Ennius, _Fragm._ 5. 477; Virg. _Aen._ 5. 662.
Footnote 903:
_C. I. L._ vi. 826.
Footnote 904:
Liv. 24. 10. 9.
Footnote 905:
Vitruv. 1. 7. 1.
Footnote 906:
_Roman Questions_, xviii.
Footnote 907:
_de Aedibus sacris_, p. 47 foll.
Footnote 908:
What this was we do not really know: there were several of them
(Preller, ii. 150).
Footnote 909:
Fest. 154, from Ateius Capito; Macrob. 1. 16. 17.
Footnote 910:
Plut. _Rom._ 11; Ovid, _Fasti_, 4. 821. Plutarch wrongly describes it
as being in the Comitium.
Footnote 911:
This seems to be meant by Cato’s words quoted by Festus, l. c. ‘Mundo
nomen impositum est ab eo mundo quod supra nos est ... eius inferiorem
partem veluti consecratam dis Manibus clausam omni tempore nisi his
diebus (i. e. the three above mentioned) maiores c[ensuerunt
habendam], quos dies etiam religiosos judicaverunt.’
Footnote 912:
Fest. 128. So Varro, ap. Macrob. 1. 16. 18 ‘Mundus cum patet, deorum
tristium atque inferum ianua patet.’ _Lex._ s. v. Dis Pater, 1184;
Preller, ii. 68.
Footnote 913:
Müller-Deecke, _Etrusker_, ii. 100. Plutarch is explicit: ἀπαρχαί τε
πάντων, ὅσοις νόμῳ μὲν ὡς καλοῖς ἐχρῶντο, φύσει δὲ ὡς ἀναγκαίοις,
ἀπετέθησαν ἐνταῦθα. See above on the Consualia for the practice of
burying grain, &c.
Footnote 914:
Macrob. 1. 16. 17. For similar ideas in Greece see A. Mommsen,
_Heortologie_, 345 foll.
Footnote 915:
_de Feriis_, vi.
Footnote 916:
Varro, _L. L._ 6. 21; Festus, 187.
Footnote 917:
Varro, _L. L._. 5. 57 and 64; Festus, 186; Macrob. 1. 10. 19. So
Preller, ii. 20. The keen-sighted Ambrosch had, I think, a doubt about
it (_Studien_, 149), and about the conjugal tie generally among
Italian deities. See his note on p. 149.
Footnote 918:
Gell. 13. 23. Ops Toitesia (if the reading be right) of the Esquiline
vase (Jordan in Preller, ii. 22) may be a combination of this kind
(toitesia, conn. tutus?): cf. Ops opifera.
Footnote 919:
Wissowa himself goes so far as to say that male and female divinities
were joined together ‘non per iustum matrimonium sed ex officiorum
adfinitate,’ op. cit. vi.
Footnote 920:
Op. cit. vii.; Mommsen, _C. I. L._ 327 declines to follow him here.
Footnote 921:
_L. L._ 6. 20. The MSS. read Ope Consiva; so Mommsen in _C. I. L._
327. Wissowa adopts the other form.
Footnote 922:
See Mommsen, l. c., and Marquardt, 212.
Footnote 923:
See on Vestalia above, p. 147, and Marq. 251.
Footnote 924:
Colum. 12 4. Cited in De Marchi, _Il Culto privato di Roma Antica_
(Milan, 1896), p. 56. See my paper in _Classical Review_ for Oct.
1896: vol. x. p. 317 foll.
Footnote 925:
_C. I. L._ 327.
Footnote 926:
Preller, ii. 142.
Footnote 927:
_Aen._ 8. 330.
Footnote 928:
In Preller, ii. 143. In the passage of Lucretius Volturnus is coupled
with Auster: ‘Inde aliae tempestates ventique secuntur, Altitonam
Volturnus et Auster fulmine pollens.’ Columella (11. 2. 65) says that
some people use the name for the east wind (cp. Liv. 22. 43).
Footnote 929:
_Röm. Jahr_, 251.
MENSIS SEPTEMBER.
The Calendar of this month is almost a blank. Only the Kalends, Nones
and Ides are marked in the large letters with which we have become
familiar; no other festival is here associated with a special deity. But
the greater part of the month is occupied with the ludi Romani (5th to
19th)[930], and the 13th (Ides), as we know from two Calendars, was not
only, like all Ides, sacred to Jupiter, but was distinguished as the day
of the famous ‘epulum Jovis,’ and also as the _dies natalis_ of the
great Capitoline temple.
The explanation of the absence of great festivals in this month is
comparatively simple. September was for the Italian farmer, and
therefore for the primitive Roman agricultural community, a period of
comparative rest from urgent labour and from religious duties; for no
operations were then going on which called for the invocation of special
deities to favour and protect. A glance at the rustic calendars will
show this well enough[931]. The _messes_ which figure in July and August
have come to an end, and the vintage does not appear until October.
There is of course work to be done, as always, but it is the easy work
of the garden and orchard. ‘Dolia picantur: poma legunt: arborum
oblaqueatio.’ Varro, who divides the year for agricultural purposes into
eight irregular periods, has little to say of the fifth of these, i. e.
that which preceded the autumn equinox. ‘Quinto intervallo inter
caniculam et aequinoctium autumnale oportet stramenta desecari, et
acervos construi, aratro offringi, frondem caedi, prata irrigua iterum
secari[932].’
This was also the time when military work would be coming to an end. In
early times there were of course no lengthy campaigns; and such fighting
as there was, the object of which would be to destroy your enemies’
crops and harvest, would as a rule be over in August. Even in later
times, when campaigns were longer, the same would usually be the case;
and the performance of vows made by the generals in the field, and also
their vacation of office, would naturally fall in this month. We find,
in fact, that the ludi which occupied so large a number of September
days, had their origin in the performance of the _vota_ of kings or
consuls after the close of the wars[933]; and we have evidence that the
Ides of September was the day on which the earliest consuls laid down
their office[934]. There was, in fact, every opportunity for a
lengthened time of ease; the people were at leisure and in good temper
after harvest and victory; even the horses which took part in the games
were home from war service or resting from their labours on the
farm[935].
It is not strictly within the scope of this work to describe the ludi
Romani, which in their fully organized form were of comparatively late
date; but their close connexion with the cult of Jupiter affords an
opportunity for some remarks on that most imposing of all the Roman
worships.
The ludi Romani came in course of time, as has been said above, to
extend from the 5th to the 19th; they spread out in fact on each side of
the Ides[936], the day on which took place the ‘epulum Jovis’ in the
Capitoline temple. As this day was also the _dies natalis_ of the same
temple, and that on which the nail was driven into the wall of the cella
Jovis[937], we have a very close connexion between the ludi and the cult
of Jupiter. The link is to be found in the fact that in the _ludi
votivi_, which were developed into ludi Romani, the vows were made and
paid to the supreme god of the State[938]. We have from a later time the
formula of such a vow preserved by Livy[939]. ‘Si duellum quod cum rege
Antiocho sumi populus iussit id ex sententia senatus populique Romani
confectum erit, tum tibi, Iuppiter, populus Romanus ludos magnos dies
decem continuos faciet, donaque ad omnia pulvinaria dabuntur de pecunia,
quantam senatus decreverit: quisquis magistratus eos ludos quando ubique
faxit, hi ludi recte facti donaque data recte sunto.’
The epulum Jovis, thus occurring in the middle of the ludi, is believed
by some writers to have originally belonged to the Ides of November and
to the ludi plebeii, as it does not happen to be alluded to by Livy in
connexion with the ludi Romani, and our first notice of it in September
is in the Augustan calendars[940]. But it is surely earlier than B.C.
230, the received date of the ludi plebeii, and of the circus Flaminius
in which they took place. We may agree with the latest investigator of
the Jupiter-cult that the origin of the epulum is to be looked for in a
form of thanksgiving to Jupiter for the preservation of the state from
the perils of the war season, and that no better day could be found for
it than the foundation-day of the Capitoline temple[941]. This epulum
was one of the most singular and striking scenes in Roman public life.
It began with a sacrifice; the victim is not mentioned, but was no doubt
a heifer, and probably a white one[942]. Then took place the epulum
proper[943], which the three deities of the Capitol seem to have shared
in visible form with the magistrates and senate. The images of the gods
were decked out as for a feast, and the face of Jupiter painted red with
_minium_, like that of the triumphator. Jupiter had a couch, and Juno
and Minerva each a sella, and the meal went on in their presence[944].
Now an investigator of the Roman religious system is here confronted
with a difficult problem. Was this simply a Greek practice like that of
the lectisternium, and one which began with the Etruscan dynasty and the
foundation of the Capitoline temple with its triad of deities? Or is it
possible that in the cult of the Roman Jupiter there was of old a common
feast of some kind, shared by gods and worshippers, on which this
gorgeous ritual was eventually grafted?
Marquardt has gone so far as to separate the epulum Jovis altogether
from the lectisternia, and apparently also from the inundation of Greek
influence[945]. It answers rather, he says, to such domestic rites as
the offering to Jupiter Dapalis described thus by Cato in the _De Re
Rustica_[946]: ‘Dapem hoc modo fieri oportet. Iovi dapali culignam vini
quantum vis polluceto. Eo die feriae bubus et bubulcis, et qui dapem
facient. Cum pollucere oportebit, sic facies. Iupiter dapalis, quod tibi
fieri oportet, in domo familia mea culignam vini dapi, eius rei ergo
macte hac illace dape pollucenda esto. Manus interluito. Postea vinum
sumito. Iupiter dapalis, macte istace dape pollucenda esto. Macte vino
inferio esto. Vestae, si voles, dato[947]. Daps Iovi assaria pecuina,
urna vini lovis caste.’
I confess that I do not see wherein lies the point of the comparison of
this passage with the ceremony of the epulum; and Marquardt himself does
not attempt to elaborate it. There is no mention here of a visible
presence of Jupiter in the form of an image, which is the one striking
feature of the epulum. Marquardt, as it seems to me, might better have
adduced some example from old Italian usage of the _belief_ that the
gods were spiritually present at a common religious meal—a belief on
which might easily be engrafted the practice of presenting them there in
actual iconic form. Ovid, for example, writes thus of the cult of the
Sabine Vacuna[948]:
Ante focos olim scamnis considere longis
Mos erat, _et mensae credere adesse deos_.
Nunc quoque cum fiunt antiquae sacra Vacunae,
Ante Vacunales stantque sedentque focos.
Or again in the sacra of the curiae, if Dionysius reports them
rightly[949], we find a clear case of a common meal in which the gods
took part. He tells us that he saw tables in the ‘sacred houses’ of the
curiae spread for the gods with simple food in very primitive
earthenware dishes. He does not mention the presence of any images of
the gods, but it is probable from his interesting description that each
curia partook with its gods of a common meal of a religious character,
and one not likely to have come under Greek influence[950].
This last example may suggest a hypothesis which is at least not likely
to do any serious harm. Let it be remembered that each curia was a
constituent part of the whole Roman community. We might naturally expect
to find a common religious meal of the same kind in which the _whole_
state took part through its magistrates and senate. This is just what we
do find in the epulum Jovis, though the character of its ceremonial is
different; and it is certainly possible that this epulum had its origin
in a feast like that which Dionysius saw, but one which afterwards
underwent vital changes at the hands of the Etruscan dynasty of Roman
kings. I am strongly inclined to believe that it was under the influence
of these kings that the meal came to take place on the Capitol, and in
the temple of Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva, which they intended to be the
new centre of the Roman dominion[951]; and to them also I would ascribe
the presence at the feast of the three deities in iconic form. It may be
that before that critical era in Roman history the epulum took place not
on the Capitol but in the Regia, which with the temple of Vesta hard by
formed the oldest centre of the united Rome; and that the presence of
Jupiter[952] or any other god was there a matter of belief, like that of
Vacuna with the Sabines, and not of the actual evidence of eyesight.
But this conjecture is a somewhat bold one; and it seems worth while to
take this opportunity of examining more closely into the cult of
Jupiter, with the object of determining whether the great god was apt,
in any part of Italy but Etruria, to lend himself easily to
anthropomorphic ideas and practices[953].
The cult of Jupiter is found throughout Italy under several forms of the
same name, with or without the suffix -piter = pater, which, so far as
we can guess, points to a conception of the god as protector, if not
originator, of a stock. This paternal title, which was applied to other
deities also, does not necessarily imply an early advance beyond the
‘daemonistic’ conception of divine beings; it rather suggests that some
one such being had been brought into peculiarly close relations with a
particular stock, and does no more than indicate a possibility of
further individual development in the future[954]. The ‘father’ in this
case has no wife, though we find the word ‘mater’ applied to
goddesses[955]; Juno is undoubtedly the female principle, but she is
not, as has so often been imagined, the wife of Jupiter. The attempt to
prove this by arguing from the Flamen Dialis and his wife the Flaminica
cannot succeed: the former was the priest of Jupiter, but his wife was
not the priestess of Juno[956]. There is indeed a certain mysterious
dualism of male and female among the old Italian divinities, as we know
from the _locus classicus_ in Gellius (_N. A._ 13. 23. 2); but we are
not entitled to say that the relation was a conjugal one[957].
Before we proceed to examine traces of the oldest Jupiter in Rome and
Latium let us see what survivals are to be found in other parts of
Italy.
In Umbria we find Jovis holding the first place among the gods of the
great inscription of Iguvium, which beyond doubt retains the primitive
features of the cult, though it dates probably from the last century
B.C., and records rites which indicate a fully developed city-life[958].
His cult-titles here are Grabovius, of which the meaning is still
uncertain, and Sancius, which brings him into connexion with the Semo
Sancus and Dius Fidius of the Romans. The sacrifices and prayers are
elaborately recorded, but there is no trace in the ritual of anything
approaching to an anthropomorphic conception of the god, unless it be
the apparent mention of a temple[959]. No image is mentioned, and there
is no sign of a common meal. The titles of the deities too have the
common old-Italian fluidity, i. e. the same title belongs to more than
one deity[960]. Everything points to a stage of religious thought in
which the personality of gods had no distinct place. The centre-point of
the cult seems to be a hill, the _ocris fisius_, within the town of
Iguvium, which reminds us of the habits of the Greek Zeus and the
physical or elemental character—unanthropomorphized—which seems to
belong to that earlier stage in his worship[961].
It is on a hill also that we find the cult among the Sabellians. An
inscription from Rapino in the land of the Marrucini tells us of a
festal procession in honour of ‘Iovia Ioves patres ocris Tarincris,’ i.
e. Jovia (Juno?) belonging to the Jupiter of the hill Tarincris[962].
Among the Oscan peoples the cult-title _Lucetius_ is the most striking
fact. Servius[963] says: ‘Sane lingua Osca Lucetius est Iuppiter dictus
a luce quam praestare hominibus dicitur.’ The same title is found in the
hymn of the Roman Salii[964], and is evidently connected with _lux_;
Jupiter being beyond doubt the giver of light, whether that of sun or
moon. So Macrobius[965]: ‘Nam cum Iovem accipiamus lucis auctorem, unde
et Lucetium Salii in carminibus canunt et Cretenses Δία τὴν ἡμέραν
vocant, ipsi quoque Romani Diespitrem appellant ut diei patrem. Iure hic
dies Iovis fiducia vocatur, cuius lux non finitur cum solis occasu, sed
splendorem diei et noctem continuat inlustrante luna,’ &c. The Ides of
all months, i. e. the days of full moon, were sacred to Jupiter. But in
all ceremonies known to us in which the god appears in this capacity of
his, there is, as we might expect, no trace whatever of a personal or
anthropomorphic conception.
The Etruscan Tina, or Tinia, is now generally identified, even
etymologically, with Jupiter[966]. The attributes of the two are
essentially the same, though one particular side of the Etruscan god’s
activity, that of the lightning-wielder, is specially developed. But
Tina is also the protector of cities, along with Juno and Minerva (Cupra
and Menvra); and it is in connexion with this function of his that we
first meet with a decided tendency towards an anthropomorphic
conception. Even here, however, the stimulus can hardly be said to have
come from Italy. ‘The one fact,’ says Aust[967], ‘which is at present
quite clear is that the oldest Etruscan representations of gods can be
traced back to Greek models. Tinia was completely identified in costume
and attributes with the Greek Zeus by Etruscan artists.’ The insignia of
Etruscan magistrates were again copied from these, and have survived for
us in the costume of the Roman triumphator[968], and in part in the
insignia of the curule magistrate, i. e. in sceptrum, sella, toga
palmata, &c., and in the smearing of the face of the triumphator with
_minium_.
Coming nearer to Rome we find at Falerii, a town subject to Roman and
Sabellian as well as Graeco-Etruscan influence, the curious rite of the
ἱερὸς γάμος described by Ovid (_Amores_, 3. 13), and found also in many
parts of Greece[969]. In this elaborate procession Juno is apparently
the bride, but the bridegroom is not mentioned. At Argos, Zeus was the
bridegroom, and the inference is an obvious one that Jupiter was the
bridegroom at Falerii. But this cannot be proved, and is in fact
supported by no real evidence as to the old-Italian relation of the god
and goddess. The rite is extremely interesting as pointing to what seems
to be an early penetration of Greek religious ideas and practices into
the towns of Western Italy; but it has no other bearing on the
Jupiter-question, nor are we enlightened by the little else we know of
the Falerian Jupiter[970].
But at Praeneste, that remarkable town perched high upon the hills which
enclose the Latin Campagna to the north, we find a very remarkable form
of the Jupiter-cult, and one which must be mentioned here, puzzling and
even inexplicable as it certainly is. The great goddess of Praeneste was
Fortuna Primigenia—a cult-title which cannot well mean anything but
_first-born_[971]; and that she was, or came to be thought of as, the
first-born daughter of Jupiter is placed beyond a doubt by an
inscription of great antiquity first published in 1882[972]. But this is
not the only anomaly in the Jupiter-worship of Praeneste. There was
another cult of Fortuna, distinct, apparently, from that of Fortuna
Primigenia, in which she took the form not of a daughter but of a
mother, and, strange as it may seem, of the mother both of Jupiter and
Juno. On this point we have the explicit evidence of Cicero (_de
Divinatione_, 2. 85), who says, when speaking of the place where the
famous ‘sortes’ of Praeneste were first found by a certain Numerius
Suffustius: ‘Is est hodie locus saeptus religiose propter Iovis pueri
(sacellum?) qui lactens cum Iunone Fortunae in gremio sedens, castissime
colitur a matribus.’ Thus we have Fortuna worshipped in the same place
as the daughter and as the mother of Jupiter; and nowhere else in Italy
can we find a trace of a similar conception of the relations either of
these or any other deities. We cannot well reject the evidence of
Cicero, utterly unsupported though it be: we must face the difficulty
that we have here to account for the occurrence of a Jupiter who is the
child of Fortuna and also apparently the brother of Juno, as well as of
a Jupiter who is the father of Fortuna.
As regards this last feature, the fatherhood of Jupiter, Jordan says
emphatically[973]—and no scholar was more careful in his judgements—that
in the whole range of Italian religions ‘liberorum procreatio nulla est
unquam’: and he would understand ‘filia’ in the inscription quoted above
in a metaphorical rather than a physical sense. Yet however we choose to
think of it, Mommsen is justified in remarking[974] on the peculiarly
anthropomorphic idea of Fortuna (and we may add of Jupiter) at which the
Latins of Praeneste must have arrived, in comparison with the character
of Italian religion generally.
Even more singular than this is the sonship of Jupiter and the fact that
he appeared together with Juno in the lap of Fortuna ‘mammae appetens.’
Cicero’s language leaves no doubt that there was some work of art at
Praeneste in which the three were so represented, or believed to be
represented. Yet there are considerations which may suggest that we
should hesitate before hastily concluding that all this is a genuine
Italian development of genuine Italian ideas.
1. Italy presents us with no real parallel to this child-Jupiter though
in Greece we find many. Jordan has mentioned three possible Italian
parallels, but rejected them all: Caeculus Volcani, the legendary
founder of Praeneste, Hercules bullatus, and the beardless Veiovis. The
attributes of the last-named are explained by a late identification with
Apollo[975]; Hercules bullatus is undoubtedly Greek: the story of the
birth of Caeculus is a foundation-legend, truly Italian in character,
but belonging to a different class of religious ideas from that we are
discussing. To these we may add that the _boy-Mars_ found on a
Praenestine cista is clearly of Etruscan origin, as is shown by Deecke
in the _Lexicon_, s. v. Maris.
2. Cicero’s statement is not confirmed by any inscription from
Praeneste. Those which were formerly thought to refer to _Iupiter
Puer_[976] are now proved to belong to Fortuna as _Iovis puer_ (=
_filia_). It is most singular that Fortuna should be thus styled _Iovis
puer_ in the same place where Jupiter himself was worshipped as _puer_;
still more so that in one inscription (2868) the cutter should have
dropped out the ‘s’ in Iovis, so that we actually read _Iovi puero_. It
may seem tempting to guess that the name Jupiter Puer arose from a
misunderstanding of the word _puer_ as applied to Fortuna: but the
evidence as it stands supplies no safe ground for this.
3. The fact that Cicero describes a statue is itself suspicious, in the
absence of corroborative evidence of any other kind[977]: for it
suggests that the cult may have arisen, and have taken its peculiar
form, as a result of the introduction of Greek or Graeco-Etruscan works
of art. In Praeneste itself, and in other parts of Latium and of
Campania, innumerable terra-cottas have been found[978], of the type of
the Greek κουροτρόφος, i. e. a mother, sitting or standing, with a
child, and occasionally two children[979] in her lap. These may, indeed,
be simply votive offerings, to Fortuna and other deities of childbirth:
but such objects may quite well have served as the foundation from which
the idea of Fortuna and her infants arose. There is a passage in Servius
which seems to me to show a trace of a similar confusion elsewhere in
this region of Italy. ‘Circa hunc tractum Campaniae colebatur _puer
Iuppiter_ qui Anxyrus dicebatur quasi ἄνευ ξυροῦ, id est sine novacula:
quia barbam nunquam rasisset: et _Iuno virgo_ quae Feronia
dicebatur[980].’ True, the Jupiter of Anxur is a boy or youth[981], not
an infant: but the passage serves well to show the fluidity of Italian
deities, at any rate in regard to the names attached to them. That this
_puer Iuppiter_ was originally some other deity, and very possibly a
Greek one, I have little doubt: while Juno Virgo, Feronia, Fortuna,
Proserpina, all seem to slide into each other in a way which is very
bewildering to the investigator[982]. This is no doubt owing to two
chief causes—the daemonistic character of the early Italian religion, in
which many of the spiritual conceptions were even _unnamed_; and,
secondly, the confusion which arose when Greek artistic types were first
introduced into Italy. Two currents of religious thought met at this
point, perhaps in the eighth and following centuries B.C.; and the
result was a whirlpool, in which the deities were tossed about, lost
such shape as they possessed, or got inextricably entangled with each
other. The French student of Praenestine antiquities writes with reason
of ‘the negligence with which the Praenestine artists placed the names
of divinities and heroes on designs borrowed from Greek models, and
often representing a subject which they did not understand[983].’
4. And lastly, there is no doubt that Praeneste, in spite of its lofty
position on the hills, was at an early stage of its existence subject to
foreign influences, like so many other towns on or near the western
coast of central Italy. This has been made certain by works of art found
in its oldest tombs[984]. Whether these objects came from Greece,
Phoenicia, Carthage, or Etruria, the story they tell is for us the same,
and may well make us careful in accepting a statement like that of
Cicero’s without some hesitation. There was even a Greek
foundation-legend of Praeneste, as well as the pure Italian one of
Caeculus[985]. Evidence is slowly gathering which points to a certain
basis of fact in these foundation-stories—of fact, at least, in so far
as they seem to indicate that the transformation of the early Italian
community into a city and a centre of civilization was coincident with
the era of the introduction of foreign trade.
While, then, we cannot hope as yet to account for the singular anomaly
in the Jupiter-cult, which is presented to us at Praeneste, we may at
least hesitate to make use of it in answering the main question with
which we set out—viz. how far we can find in the cult of the genuine
Italian Jupiter any tendency towards an anthropomorphic conception of
the god. Before we return to Rome a word is needed about the Latin
Jupiter. The Latin festival has already been described[986]: it will be
sufficient here to point out that none of its features show any advance
towards an anthropomorphic conception of Jupiter Latiaris. The god here
is of the same type as at Iguvium, one whose sanctuary—whatever it may
originally have been—is in a grove on a hill-top[987], the conspicuous
religious centre of the whole Latin stock inhabiting the plain below. Of
this stock he is the uniting and protecting deity; and when once a year
his sacred victim is slain, after offerings have been made to him by the
representatives of each member of the league, it is essential that each
should also receive (and probably consume through its deputies) a
portion of the sacrificial flesh (_carnem petere_). This, the main
feature, and other details of the ritual, point to a survival from a
very early stage of religious culture, and one that we may fairly call
aniconic. The victim, a white heifer, the absence of wine in the
libations, and the mention of milk and cheese among the offerings, all
suggest an origin in the pastoral age; and it would seem that foreign
ideas never really penetrated into this worship of a pastoral race. The
objects that have been found during excavations near the site of the
ancient temple[988] show that, as in the worship of the Fratres Arvales
and in that of the curiae, so here, the most antique type of sacred
vessels remained in use. Undoubtedly there was in later times a temple,
and also a statue of the god[989]: and it is just possible that, as
Niebuhr supposed[990], these were the goal of an ancient Alban triumphal
procession, older than the later magnificent rite of the Capitol. But we
know _for certain_ that the ancient cult here suggests neither gorgeous
ritual nor iconic usage. We see nothing but the unadorned practices of a
simple cattle-breeding people.
Coming now once more to Rome itself, where of course we have fuller
information, fragmentary though it be, we find sufficiently clear
indications of an ancient cult of Jupiter showing characteristics of
much the same kind as those we have already noticed as being genuine
Italian.
In the first place the cult is associated with hills and also with
trees. It is found on that part of the Esquiline which was known as
lucus Fagutalis or Fagutal: here there was a sacellum Iovis ‘in quo fuit
fagus arbor quae Iovis (so MSS.) sacra habebatur[991]‘: and the god
himself was called Fagutalis. Not far off on the Viminal, or hill of the
osiers, there was also an altar of Jupiter Viminius, which we may
suppose to have been ancient[992]. The mysterious Capitolium vetus on
the Quirinal may be assumed as telling the same tale, though in
historical times the memory of the cult there included Minerva and Juno
with Jupiter, i. e. the Etruscan ‘Trias.’ Lastly, on the Capitol itself
was the temple of Jupiter Feretrius, reputed to be the oldest in
Rome[993]. It was attributed to Romulus, who, after slaying the king of
the Caeninenses, dedicated the first spolia opima on an ancient oak
‘pastoribus sacram,’ and at the same time ‘designavit templo Iovis fines
cognomenque addidit deo.’ The oak, we may assume, was the original
dwelling of the god, and upon it were fixed the arms taken from the
conquered enemy as a thank-offering for his aid[994]. In this case we
seem to be able to guess the development of the cult from this beginning
in the tree-worship of primitive ‘pastores.’ The next step would be the
erection of an altar below the tree, in a small enclosure, i. e. a
sacellum of the same kind as those of the Argei or the Sacellum
Larum[995]. The third stage would be the building of the aedes known to
us in history, which Cornelius Nepos says had fallen into decay in his
time, and was rebuilt by Augustus on the suggestion of Atticus. Even
this was a very small building, for Dionysius saw the foundations of it
and found them only fifteen feet wide. This oldest cult of Jupiter was
completely overshadowed by the later one of the Etruscan Trias—the
aniconic by the iconic, the pure Italian by the mongrel ritual from
Etruria.
That this Jupiter Feretrius[996] was the great Jupiter of pre-Etruscan
Rome seems to be proved by his connexion with oaths and treaties, in
which he resembles the god of the Latin festival. To him apparently
belonged the priestly college of the Fetiales, who played so important a
part in the declaring of war and the making of treaties: at any rate it
was from his temple that the _lapis silex_ and the _sceptrum_ were taken
which accompanied them on their official journeys[997]. It has been
supposed that this _lapis silex_ was a symbol of the god himself, like
the spear of Mars in the Regia, and other such objects of cult[998]. ‘We
recognize here the primitive forms of a nature-worship, in which the
simple flint was sufficient to bring up in men’s minds the idea of the
heavenly power of lightning and thunder,’ i. e. the flint if struck
would emit sparks and remind the beholder of lightning. Unluckily the
existence of a stone in this temple as an object of worship is not
clearly attested. Servius (_Aen._ 8. 641) says that the Fetials took to
using a stone instead of a sword to slay their victims with, ‘quod
antiquum Iovis signum lapidem silicem _putaverunt_ esse.’ The learned
commentator makes a mistake here which will be obvious to all
archaeologists, in putting the age of iron before that of stone; but it
has not been equally clear to scholars that he by no means implies his
belief that Jupiter was ever worshipped under the form of a stone. He
only says that the Fetials _fancied_ that this was so: and the whole
passage has an aetiological colouring which should put us on our
guard[999]. It is not supported by any other statement or tradition,
except an allusion in S. Augustine[1000] to a ‘lapis Capitolinus,’ which
is surely the stone of Terminus (see below): and by the oath ‘per Iovem
lapidem,’ which has been interpreted by some as meaning ‘Jupiter in the
form of a stone.’ But this interpretation is at least open to grave
doubt; and in the absence of clearer evidence for the ‘Iuppiter lapis’
of the temple it is better to understand the oath as being sworn by the
god and also by the stone, ‘two distinct aspects of the transaction
being run together,’ in a way not uncommon in Latin formulae[1001].
It only remains to conjecture what the ‘silex’ or ‘lapis’ was which the
Fetials took from the temple together with the sceptrum. Helbig has
attempted to prove that it was not a survival of the stone age, e. g. an
axe of stone. Had that been so, he argues, the Roman antiquaries, who
were acquainted with such implements[1002], would have noticed it: and
those who describe the rites of the Fetials would have stated that the
stone was artificially sharpened. But this negative argument is not a
strong one; and I am rather inclined to agree with the suggestion of Dr.
Tylor[1003], that it was a stone celt believed to have been a
thunder-bolt. There may indeed have been more than one of these kept in
the temple, for in B.C. 201 the Fetials who went to Africa took with
them _each a stone_[1004] (privos lapides silices) along with their
‘sagmina,’ &c. This fact seems to me to prove that the silices, like the
sagmina and sceptrum, were only part of the ritualistic apparatus of the
Fetials[1005], and not objects in which the god was supposed to be
manifested. The idea that he was originally worshipped in the form of a
stone may well have arisen from this use of stones in the ritual,
especially if those stones were believed to be in some way his
handiwork[1006]. We may think then of the cult of Jupiter Feretrius as
an example of primitive tree-worship, but we are not justified in going
further and finding him also in the form of a stone.
There is yet another stone that may have belonged to the earliest Roman
cult of Jupiter, but the connexion is not very certain. ‘The (rite of)
Aquaelicium,’ says Festus[1007], ‘is when rain is procured (elicitur) by
certain methods, as for example when the lapis manalis is carried into
the city.’ This stone lay by the temple of Mars, outside the Porta
Capena; we learn from other passages that it was carried by the
pontifices[1008], but we are not told what they did with it within the
walls. It has been ingeniously suggested that this rain-spell, as we may
call it, was a part of the cult of Jupiter Elicius, to whom there was an
altar close by under the Aventine[1009], the cult-title being identical
with the latter part of the word ‘aquaelicium[1010].’ We may agree that
the stone had nothing to do with the temple of Mars, which happened to
be near it, and also that any such rain-spell as this would be more
likely to belong to the cult of Jupiter than of any other deity. The
heaven-god, who launches the thunder-bolt, is naturally and almost
everywhere also the rain-giver[1011]: and that this was one of the
functions of Jupiter is fully attested, for later times at least[1012].
But it must be confessed that the evidence is very slight[1013]: and it
is as well here to remember that the further we probe back into old
Italian rites, the less distinctly can we expect to be able to connect
them with particular deities. The formula ‘si deus, si dea es’ should
always be borne in mind in attempting to connect gods and ceremonies.
And this ceremony, like that of the Argei[1014] (which also wants a
clearly-conceived deity as its object), is obviously a survival from a
very primitive class of performances which Mr. Frazer has called acts of
‘sympathetic magic[1015].’ I am indebted to the _Golden Bough_ for a
striking parallel to the rite of the lapis manalis, among many others
which more or less resemble it. ‘In a Samoan village a certain stone was
carefully housed as the representative of the rain-making god: and in
time of drought his priests carried the stone in procession and dipped
it in a stream[1016].’ What was done with the lapis manalis we are not
told, but it is pretty plain from the word ‘manalis,’ and from the
fragments of explanation which have come down to us from Roman scholars,
that it was either the object of some splashing or pouring, or was
itself hollow and was filled with water which was to be poured out in
imitation of the desired rain[1017]. Such rites need not necessarily be
connected by us with the name of a god: and the Jupiter Elicius, with
whom it is sought to connect this one, was always associated by the
Romans not with this obsolete rite, but with the elaborated science of
augury which was in the main Etruscan[1018].
But this discussion has already been carried on as far as the scope of
this work permits. It may be completed by any one who has the patience
to work through Aust’s exhaustive article, examining his conclusions
with the aid of his abundant references; but I doubt if anything will be
found, beyond what I have mentioned, which bears closely on the question
with which we set out. That question was, whether the distinctly
anthropomorphic treatment of Jupiter in the ‘epulum Iovis’ could be
explained by any native Italian practice in his cult (as Marquardt tried
to explain it), or must be referred with Aust to foreign, i. e.
Graeco-Etruscan, influence. I am driven to the conclusion that Aust is
probably right. There is no real trace in Italy of an indigenous iconic
representation of Jupiter. Trees and hills are apparently sacred to him,
and possibly stones, though this last is doubtful: we find a sacrificial
meal at the Latin festival, but no sign that he takes part in it as an
image or statue. Elsewhere, as at Praeneste, peculiar representations of
him arouse strong suspicions of foreign iconic influence. I think, on
the whole, that the Italian peoples owed the sacred image to foreign
works of art: and that the ‘epulum Iovis’ was introduced from Etruria by
the Etruscan dynasty which built the Capitoline temple. It may, indeed,
have been engrafted upon an earlier sacrificial meal like that of the
feriae Latinae, or that of the curiae, or the rustic one of Jupiter
dapalis: but, if so, the meal was one at which the ancient Romans were
content to _believe_, as Ovid says, that the gods were present, and did
not need, like the Greeks, the evidence of their eyes to help out their
belief. Their gods were still aniconic when the wave of foreign ideas
broke over them. We may say of the earliest Roman cult of Jupiter what
Tacitus asserts of the Germans of his day[1019]: ‘nec cohibere
parietibus deos neque in ullam humani oris speciem adsimulare ex
magnitudine caelestium arbitrantur: lucos ac nemora consecrant,
deorumque nominibus appellant secretum illud quod sola reverentia
vident.’
* * * * *
September 13 was also the day on which, according to Livy[1020] and
Verrius Flaccus[1021], a nail (_clavus_) was driven _annually_ by the
‘Praetor maximus’ into the wall of the cella of Minerva in the
Capitoline temple, in obedience to an old lex which was fixed up on the
wall of the temple adjoining this same cella. But Mommsen’s trenchant
criticism[1022] of the _locus classicus_ for this subject in Livy has
made it almost certain that the Roman scholars were here in error: that
the ceremony was not an annual one, but took place once in a century, in
commemoration of a vow made in 463 B.C., to commemorate the great
pestilence of that year, which carried off both the consuls and several
other magistrates[1023]: that it had no special connexion with the cult
of Jupiter, and was not intended, as is generally supposed, to mark the
years as they passed. The nail is really the symbol of Fortuna or
Necessitas; the rite was Etruscan, and was also celebrated at Volsinii
in the temple of the Etruscan deity of Fate; when brought to Rome it was
very naturally located in the great temple of the Etruscan Trias, the
religious centre of the Roman state. Originally a dictator was chosen
(i. e. Praetor maximus) _clavi figendi causa_; and when the dictatorship
was dropped after the Second Punic War, the ceremony was allowed to fall
into oblivion. Later on the Roman antiquarians unearthed and
misinterpreted it, believing it to have been a yearly rite of which the
object was to mark the succession of years. This brief account of
Mommsen’s view may suffice for the purpose of this work: but the subject
is one that might with advantage be reinvestigated.
Footnote 930:
This represents the length which the ludi had attained in Cicero’s
time (_Verr._ i. 10. 31). September 4 was probably added after
Caesar’s death (Mommsen in _C. I. L._ 328).
Footnote 931:
_C. I. L._ 281.
Footnote 932:
_R. R._ I. 33.
Footnote 933:
See Mommsen’s masterly essay in his _Römische Forschungen_, vol. ii.
p. 42 foll. Aust, in _Myth. Lex._ s. v. Iuppiter, 732.
Footnote 934:
Mommsen, _Röm. Chronol._ 86 foll.
Footnote 935:
The ‘equorum probatio,’ preliminary to the races in the circus, took
place on the day after the Ides: see above, p. 27.
Footnote 936:
Mommsen (_C. I. L._ 328, and _Röm. Forsch._ ii. 43 foll.) points out
that the real centre-point and original day of the ludi proper was the
day of the great procession (pompa) from the Capitol to the Circus
maximus; and that this was probably the 15th, two days after the
epulum, because the 14th, being _postriduanus_, was unlucky, and that
day was also occupied by the ‘equorum probatio.’ (See Fasti Sab.,
Maff., Vall., Amit. and Antiat.)
Footnote 937:
See below, p. 234. For the _dies natalis_, see Aust, in _Lex._ s.v.
Iuppiter, p. 707; Plutarch, _Poplic._ 14.
Footnote 938:
Mommsen, _Röm. Forsch._ l. c.
Footnote 939:
Livy, 36. 2. 3. The passage refers to _ludi magni_, i. e. _special_
votive games, vowed after the fixed organization of the ludi Romani;
but it is none the less illustrative of the latter, as they originated
in votive games.
Footnote 940:
So Marq. 349 and note; Mommsen in _C. I. L._ 329, 335. I follow Aust,
_Lex._ s. v. Iuppiter, 732. The ‘epulum Minervae’ of the rustic
calendars is but slender evidence for an ancient and special connexion
of the goddess with this day; but Mommsen thinks that the epulum
‘magis Minervae quam Iovis fuisse.’
Footnote 941:
Aust, l. c.
Footnote 942:
Aust, _Lex._ s. v. Iuppiter, 670, 735.
Footnote 943:
In Capitolio (Gellius, 12. 8. 2; Liv. 38. 57. 5). For the collegium of
_epulones_, which from 196 B.C. had charge of this and other public
feasts, see Marq. 347 foll.
Footnote 944:
Val. Max. 2. 1. 2; Plin. _N. H._ 33. 111; Aust, l. c.; Preller, i.
120.
Footnote 945:
Marq. 348.
Footnote 946:
_R. R._ 132. Festus (68) explains daps as ‘res divina quae fiebat aut
hiberna semente aut verna,’ and Cato directs the farmer to begin to
sow after the ceremony he describes. I do not clearly understand
whether Marquardt intended also to connect the epulum Jovis of Nov. 13
with the autumn sowing.
Footnote 947:
I am unable to offer any explanation of these words, though half
inclined to suspect that Vesta was the original deity of this rite of
the farm, and that Jupiter and the wine-offering are later intrusions.
Footnote 948:
_Fasti_, 6. 307. For Vacuna see Preller, i. 408.
Footnote 949:
Bk. 2. 23 (cp. 2. 50); Marq. 195 foll. For a comparison of Greek and
Roman usage of this kind see de Coulanges, _La Cité antique_, p. 132
foll.
Footnote 950:
He compares this common meal with those of the πρυτανεῖα of Greek
cities, and also with the φιδίτια at Sparta. But it is most unlikely
that the practice of the curiae should have had any but a native
origin.
Footnote 951:
See cap. 7 of Ambrosch’s _Studien_; and cp. cap. 1 on the Regia as the
older centre.
Footnote 952:
I may relegate to a footnote the further conjecture that the original
deity of the epulum was Vesta. We know that this Sept. 13 was one of
the three days on which the Vestals prepared the _mola salsa_ (Serv.
_Ecl._ 8. 32). We cannot connect this _mola salsa_ with the cult of
Jupiter on this day, for the Vestals have no direct connexion with
that cult at any period of the year; but it is possible that it was a
survival from the time when the common meal took place in the Regia.
Footnote 953:
See Aust’s admirable and exhaustive article on Jupiter in Roscher’s
_Lexicon_.
Footnote 954:
Robertson Smith (_Religion of the Semites_, 42 foll.) seems to trace
the idea back to an actual physical fatherhood. Mr. Farnell, on the
other hand (_Cults of the Greek States_, i. 49), believes that in the
case of Zeus it expresses ‘rather a moral or spiritual idea than any
real theological belief concerning physical or human origins.’ In
Italy, I think, the suffix pater indicates a special connexion with a
particular stock, and one rather of guardianship than of actual
fatherhood. See above on Neptunalia.
Footnote 955:
See Jordan’s note on Preller, i. 56.
Footnote 956:
See my paper in _Classical Review_, vol. ix. 474 foll.
Footnote 957:
Wissowa, _de Feriis_, p. 6, in the true spirit of Italian worship,
concludes that it was ‘non per iustum matrimonium, sed ex officiorum
affinitate.’
Footnote 958:
Bücheler, _Umbrica_; Bréal, _Les Tables Eugubines_.
Footnote 959:
_Tab._ 1 B. (Bücheler, p. 2, takes it as a temple or sacellum of
_Juno_).
Footnote 960:
Grabovius is an epithet of Mars; Sancius of Fisius; Jovius or Juvius
of more than one deity.
Footnote 961:
Farnell, op. cit. i. 50 and notes.
Footnote 962:
Mommsen, _Unteritalische Dialekten_, 341; _Lex._ 637. The Jupiter
_Cacunus_ of _C. I. L._ 6. 371 and 9. 4876 also points to _high
places_, and there are other examples.
Footnote 963:
_Aen._ 9. 567.
Footnote 964:
Wordsworth, _Fragments and Specimens_, p. 564.
Footnote 965:
_Sat._ 1. 15. 14.
Footnote 966:
Deecke, _Etruskische Forschungen_, iv. 79 foll.
Footnote 967:
_Lex._ s. v. Iuppiter, p. 634.
Footnote 968:
Servius _Ecl._ 10. 27; _Dict. of Antiquities_ (ed. 2), s. v.
Triumphus.
Footnote 969:
Farnell, i. 184 foll. See also Dion. Hal. 1. 21. 2; Deecke, _Die
Falisker_, p. 88; _Lex._ s. v. Juno, 591; Roscher, _Juno und Hera_,
76.
Footnote 970:
_Lex._ 643.
Footnote 971:
H. Jordan, _Symbolae ad historiam religionum Italicarum alterae_.
Königsberg, 1885.
Footnote 972:
‘Orceria·Numeri·nationu·cratia·Fortuna·Diovo·filei·primocenia·donom
dedi’ (_C. I. L._ xiv. 2863). There are later inscriptions in which
she appears as ‘Iovis (or Iovi) puero,’ in the sense of female child
(_C. I. L._ xiv. 2862, 2868). The subject is discussed by Mommsen in
_Hermes_ for 1884, p. 455, and by Jordan op. cit. See also _Lex._ s.
v. Fortuna, 1542 foll., and s. v. Iuppiter, 648.
Footnote 973:
_Symbolae_, i. p. 8, and cp. 12. For the apparent parallel in the myth
of the birth of Mars see on March 1.
Footnote 974:
_Hermes_, 1884, p. 455 foll.
Footnote 975:
Gellius, _N. A._ 5. 12; Ovid, _Fasti_, 3. 429 foll.; and see above on
May 21. For Hercules, Jordan l. c. and his note on Preller, ii. 298.
For Caeculus, Wissowa, in _Lex._ s. v.
Footnote 976:
_C. I. L._ xiv. 2862 and 2868.
Footnote 977:
The _tria signa_ of Liv. 23. 19, placed ‘in aede Fortunae’ by M.
Anicius after his escape from Hannibal, with a dedication, may
possibly have been those of Fortuna and the two babes (Preller, ii.
192. note 1): but this is very doubtful.
Footnote 978:
Jordan, _Symbolae_, 10; _Lex._ s. v. Fortunae, 1543; Fernique, _Étude
sur Préneste_, 78.
Footnote 979:
Gerhard, _Antike Bildwerke_, Tab. iv. no. 1, gives an example: the
children here, however, are not babes, and the mother has her arms
round their necks. It seems more to resemble the types of Leto with
Apollo and Artemis as infants (_Lex._ s. v. Leto, 1973), as Prof.
Gardner suggests to me.
Footnote 980:
Ad _Aen._ 7. 799.
Footnote 981:
_Lex._ s. v. Iuppiter, 640.
Footnote 982:
See Fernique, _Étude sur Préneste_, pp. 79-81.
Footnote 983:
Fernique, op. cit. p. 79.
Footnote 984:
Fernique, 139 foll. Wissowa writes of Praeneste as ‘a special point of
connexion between Latin and Etruscan culture’ (_Lex._ s. v. Mercurius,
2813).
Footnote 985:
Plutarch, _Parallela_, 41.
Footnote 986:
See at end of April, p. 95.
Footnote 987:
Liv. 1. 31. 3 ‘visi etiam audire vocem ingentem ex summi cacuminis
luco, ut patrio ritu sacra Albani facerent.’
Footnote 988:
e. g. the vases of very primitive make (Henzen, _Acta Fratr. Arv._
30).
Footnote 989:
Liv. 27. 11 (B.C. 209).
Footnote 990:
Niebuhr, _Hist. of Rome_, ii. 37. Strong arguments are urged against
this view by Aust, _Lex._ 696.
Footnote 991:
Paul. Diac. 87. The lucus is mentioned in the corrupt fragments of the
Argean itinerary (see on May 15) in Varro, _L. L._ 5. 50 (see Jordan,
_Topogr._ ii, 242): where I am inclined to think the real reading is
‘Esquiliis cis Iovis lucum fagutalem’; ‘Iuppiter Fagutalis’ in Plin.
_N. H._ 16. 37; a ‘vicus Iovis Fagutalis,’ _C. I. L._ vi. 452 (110
A.D.).
Footnote 992:
For Iuppiter Viminius and his ara, Fest. 376.
Footnote 993:
Liv. 1. 10; Dionys. 2. 34; Propert. 5. (4.) 10.
Footnote 994:
For other examples of this practice see Bötticher, _Baumkultus_, pp.
73 and 134; Virgil, _Aen._ 10. 423, and Servius, ad loc.; Statius,
_Theb._ 2. 707.
Footnote 995:
Corn. Nep. _Atticus_, 20; cf. Mommsen, _Res Gestae Divi Augusti_, p.
53; Dion. Hal. 2. 34. 4. This is apparently what Livy alludes to in 1.
10, attributing it, after Roman fashion, to Romulus: ‘Templum his
regionibus, quas modo animo metatus sum, dedico sedem opimis spoliis.’
For a discussion of the shape of this temple see Aust, in _Lex._ s. v.
Iuppiter, 673. He is inclined to attribute it (679) to the A.
Cornelius Cossus who dedicated the second _spolia opima_ in B.C. 428
(Liv. 4. 20).
Footnote 996:
The meaning of the cult-title is obscure; _Lex._ s. v. Iuppiter, 673.
Footnote 997:
Paul. Diac. 92; Serv. _Aen._ 12. 206.
Footnote 998:
Aust, in _Lex._ 676. The idea is that of Helbig in his _Italiker in
der Poebene_, 91 foll. Cp. Schwegler, _Röm. Gesch._ i. 681, and
Preller, i. 248 foll. H. Nettleship, _Essays in Latin Literature_, p.
35, and Strachan-Davidson (Polybius, _Prolegomena_, viii) discuss the
oath _per Iovem lapidem_ usefully. Nettleship saw that the passage of
Servius is the only one which ‘gives any real support’ to the notion
that the god was represented by a stone; and Strachan-Davidson notes
the aetiological method of Servius.
Footnote 999:
Cp. his note on the ‘sceptrum’ (_Aen._ 12. 206), which he explains as
being the substitute for a ‘simulacrum’ of Jupiter. Was this
‘simulacrum’ a stone? If so he would have said so. Obviously he knew
little or nothing about these cult-objects.
Footnote 1000:
_de Civ. Dei_ 2. 29. S. Augustine couples it with the focus Vestae, as
something well known: and this could not be said at that time of any
object in the temple of Jupiter Feretrius. The epithet Capitolinus
would suit the stone of Terminus far better; and this is, in fact,
made almost certain by Servius’ language when speaking of Virgil’s
‘Capitoli immobile saxum’ (_Aen._ 9. 448), which he identifies with
the ‘lapidem ipsum Termini.’ Doubtless if we could be sure that such a
stone existed, we might guess that it was an aerolite
(Strachan-Davidson, p. 76, who quotes examples).
Footnote 1001:
So Nettleship, l. c.: and Strachan-Davidson, l. c.
Footnote 1002:
He quotes Plin. _N. H._ 37. 135 ‘cerauniae nigrae rubentesque et
similes securibus.’
Footnote 1003:
Communicated to Mr. Strachan-Davidson, and mentioned by him in a note
(op. cit. p. 77). An instance in Retzel, _History of Mankind_, vol. i.
p. 175. The other suggestion, that it was a meteoric stone, is also
quite possible: for Greek examples, see Schömann, _Griech.
Alterthümer_, ii. 171 foll.
Footnote 1004:
Liv. 30. 43.
Footnote 1005:
We may compare the ‘orbita’ of the cult of Jupiter Sancius at Iguvium:
Bücheler, _Umbrica_, 141. See above, p. 139.
Footnote 1006:
It may be as well to say, before leaving the subject, that I certainly
agree with Mr. Strachan-Davidson that the ordinary oath, ‘per Iovem
lapidem,’ where the swearer throws the stone away from him (described
by Polybius, 3. 25), has nothing to do with the ritual of the Fetials.
Footnote 1007:
Festus, p. 2. Cp. 128, where this stone is distinguished from the
other, which was the ‘ostium Orci.’ Serv. _Aen._ 3. 175.
Footnote 1008:
Serv. l. c. Marquardt, and Aust following him, add the matrons with
bare feet and the magistrates without their praetexta: but this rests
on the authority of Petronius (_Sat._ 44), who surely is not writing
of Rome, where the ceremony was only a tradition, to judge by Fest. p.
2.
Footnote 1009:
Varro, _L. L._ 6. 94.
Footnote 1010:
O. Gilbert, ii. 154: adopted by Aust, 658, who adds some slight
additional evidence: e. g. the ‘Iovem aquam exorabant’ of the passage
from Petronius.
Footnote 1011:
Tylor, _Prim. Cult._ ii. 235-7: for the Greek Zeus, Farnell, _Cults_,
i. 44 foll.
Footnote 1012:
Preller, i. 190. I cannot say that I find evidence earlier than the
passage of Tibullus, 1. 7. 26 (Jupiter Pluvius).
Footnote 1013:
Note that the Flamen Dialis is not mentioned along with the Pontifices
by Servius, l.c.
Footnote 1014:
See on May 15.
Footnote 1015:
_Golden Bough_, i. 11 foll.; Grimm, _Teutonic Mythology_, 595 foll.;
abundant examples in the works of Mannhardt, see indices.
Footnote 1016:
From _Samoa_, by G. Turner, p. 145.
Footnote 1017:
Compare together Nonius, 547. 10; 559. 19 (s. v. trulleum), from
Varro; Festus, 128, s. v. ‘manalis lapis,’ from Verrius Flaccus. The
suggestion that the stone was hollow is O. Gilbert’s.
Footnote 1018:
Aust, _Lex._ 657, who believes the Romans to have been mistaken. The
_locus classicus_ is Ovid, _Fasti_, 3. 285 foll.; a more rational
account in Liv. 1. 20; Plin. _N. H._ 2. 140. Note the position of the
altar of this Jupiter, i. e. the Aventine.
Footnote 1019:
_Germania_, 9.
Footnote 1020:
7. 3.
Footnote 1021:
Festus, 55.
Footnote 1022:
In _Röm. Chronologie_, p. 175 foll. Preller (i. 258) had already seen
that the ceremony was a religious one, but believed it to be annual,
and used for the reckoning of time.
Footnote 1023:
‘An sich hat der Nagel gewiss mit dem Jahre nichts zu thun, sondern
steht in seiner natürlichen und wohlbekannten Bedeutung der
Schicksalsfestung, in welcher er als Attribut der grausen
Nothwendigkeit (saeva Necessitas), der Fortuna, der Atropos bei
römischen Schriftstellern und auf italischen Bildwerken begegnet.’
Mommsen, op. cit. 179. He alludes, of course, to Horace, _Od._ 1. 35,
and 3. 24, and to the Etruscan mirror mentioned by Preller (p. 259):
see Gerhard, _Etr. Spiegel_, i. 176. But the interpretation of this
mirror, as given by Preller, seems to me very doubtful.
MENSIS OCTOBER.
In the Italy of historical times, the one agricultural feature of this
month was the vintage. The rustic calendars mark this with the single
word _vindemiae_[1024]. The vintage might begin during the last few days
of September, but October was its natural time, though it is now
somewhat earlier: this point is clear both from Varro and Pliny[1025].
But the old calendars have preserved hardly a trace of this; and in fact
the only feast which we can in any way connect with wine making (the
Meditrinalia on the 11th) is obscure in name and its ritual unknown to
us. We may infer that the practice of viticulture was a comparatively
late introduction; and this is borne out by such facts as the absence of
wine in the ritual of the Latin festival[1026], and the words of a _lex
regia_ (ascribed to Numa) which forbade wine to be sprinkled on a
funeral pile[1027]. Pliny also expressed a decided opinion that
viticulture was _multo serior_: and lately Hehn[1028] has traced it to
the Italian Greeks on etymological grounds. It can hardly have become a
common occupation in Latium before the seventh or possibly even the
eighth century B.C.
Probably if Ovid had continued his _Fasti_ to the end of the year we
might have learnt much of interest about this month: as it is, we have
only scraps of information about a very few primitive rites, only one of
which can be said to be known to us in any detail; and the
interpretation of that one is extremely doubtful.
KAL. OCT. (OCTOBER 1). N.
[FIDEI] IN CAPITOLIO. TIGILL[O] SOROR[IO] AD COMPITUM ACILI. (ARV.)
The sacrifice here indicated to Fides in the Capitol is clearly the one
which Livy ascribes to Numa[1029]: ‘Et soli Fidei sollemne instituit. Ad
id sacrarium flamines bigis, curru arcuato (i. e. ‘covered’) vehi
iussit, manuque ad digitos usque involuta rem divinam facere:
significantes fidem tutandam, sedemque eius etiam in dextris sacratam
esse.’ Dionysius also mentions the foundation, without alluding to the
peculiar ritual, but dwelling on the moral influence of the cult both in
public and private life[1030].
The personification of a moral idea would hardly seem likely to be as
old as Numa; yet there are points in the ritual which suggest a high
antiquity, apart from tradition. It was the three chief flamines who
thus drove to the Capitol—i. e. those of Jupiter, Mars, and Quirinus;
these at least were the three who had been just instituted by Numa (Liv.
1. 20), and to them Livy must be referring. As has been often pointed
out, the presence of flamines at a rite is always evidence of its
antiquity; and in this case they may have represented the union of the
two communities of Septimontium and Quirinal in a common worship on the
Capitol, this central point being represented by the Flamen Dialis. The
curious fact that the right hands of these flamens were wrapped up to
the fingers in white cloth is another obvious sign of antiquity, and is
explained as meaning that the right hand, which was given to another in
pledging one’s word, then as now[1031], was pure and clean, as was the
mind of the pledger[1032]. A sacred object, statue or victim, was often
thus wrapped or tied with fillets (_vittae_); and the μύσται in the
Eleusinian mysteries seem to have worn a crocus-coloured band on the
right hand and right foot[1033]. The statue of the goddess in her temple
had probably the right hand so covered, if at least we are at liberty so
to interpret the words of Horace, ‘albo Fides velata panno’[1034].
A word about the _tigillum sororium_[1035]. What this was, and where it
was, can be made out with some certainty; beyond that all is obscure. It
was a beam, renewed from time to time, let into the opposite walls of a
street which led down from the Carinae to the Vicus Cyprius, now the via
del Colosseo[1036]. It remained till at least the fourth century A.D. It
is now generally explained as a primitive Janus-arch, apparently on the
ground that one of the altars below it was to Janus Curiatius[1037]. As
it seems, however, to have been a single beam, without supports except
the street walls[1038], I am unable to understand this conclusion; and
as the Roman antiquaries never supposed it to be such, we can hardly do
so safely. They believed it to be a memorial of the expiation undergone
by the legendary Horatius for the murder of his sister. Acquitted by the
people on appeal, he had to make religious expiation, and this he did by
the erection of an altar to Janus Curiatius, and another to Juno
Sororia[1039], and by passing under a yoke, which was afterwards
represented by the _tigillum_.
We may leave the _tigillum_ as really inexplicable, unless we are to
accept the suggestion of Roscher[1040], that the germ of the legend is
to be found in the practice of creeping through a split tree to get rid
of spell or disease. The two altars demand a word.
Livy’s language seems to suggest that these were in the care of the gens
Horatia[1041]: ‘Quibusdam piacularibus sacrificiis factis, quae deinde
genti Horatiae tradita sunt.’ If so, perhaps the whole legend of
Horatius, or at any rate its connexion with this spot, arose out of this
gentile worship of two deities, of whom the cult-titles were
respectively Curiatius and Sororia. The coincidence of Janus and Juno is
natural enough; both were associated with the Kalends[1042]. But the
original meaning of their cult-titles at the Tigillum remains unknown.
All we can say is that the Janus of the _curiae_ and the Juno of a
sister may certainly have given point to a legend of which the hero was
acquitted by the Comitia Curiata for the murder of a sister[1043].
3 NON. OCT. (OCTOBER 5). C.
This was one of the three days on which the _mundus_ was open: see on
August 24.
NON. OCT. (OCTOBER 7). F.
IOVI FULGURI, IUNONI CURRITI[1044] IN CAMPO. (ARV. PAUL.)
Of these worships in Rome nothing else is known. Iuno Curitis is the
goddess of Falerii, whose supposed ἱερὸς γάμος was referred to
above[1045].
V ID. OCT. (OCTOBER 11). NP.
MEDITR[INALIA]. (SAB. MAFF. AMIT.)
FERIAE IOVI. (AMIT.)
This was the day on which the new wine was tasted. There is no real
evidence of a goddess Meditrina. The account in Paulus is as follows:
‘Mos erat Latinis populis, quo die quis primum gustaret mustum, dicere
ominis gratia “Vetus novum vinum bibo, veteri novo morbo medeor.” A
quibus verbis etiam Meditrinae deae nomen conceptum, eiusque sacra
Meditrinalia dicta sunt[1046].’ Varro had already given the same
account: ‘Octobri mense Meditrinalia dies, dictus a medendo, quod
Flaccus flamen Martialis dicebat hoc die solitum vinum novum et vetus
libari et gustari medicamenti causa: quod facere solent etiam nunc multi
quom dicunt: Novum vetus vinum bibo, novo veteri vino morbo medeor.’
Note _a_. A parallel practice of tasting both old and new crops is to be
found in the ritual of the Fratres Arvales, who in May ‘fruges aridas et
virides contigerunt,’ i. e. the old grain and the new[1047].
Note _b_. The belief that the new wine (_mustum_) was wholesome and
non-inebriating is discussed charmingly by Plutarch (_Quaest. Conv._
vii. 1).
Note _c_. Mommsen, _C. I. L._ 1. 2. 332, points out that the real deity
here concerned was doubtless Jupiter: see under Vinalia, p. 86.
III ID. OCT. (OCTOBER 13). NP.
FONT[INALIA]. (SAB. MAFF. AMIT. MIN. IX.)
FERIAE FONTI. (AMIT.)
All we know of this very ancient festival is contained in a few words of
Varro[1048]: ‘Fontinalia a Fonte, quod is dies feriae eius; ab eo tum et
in fontes coronas iaciunt et puteos coronant.’
The holiness of wells and springs is too familiar to need illustration
here. The original object of the garlanding was probably to secure
abundant water.
It is generally assumed that there was a god Fons or Fontus, to whom
this day was sacred. There was a delubrum Fontis[1049]; an ara Fonti on
the Janiculum[1050]; and a porta Fontinalis in the Campus Martius. Fons
also appears with Flora, Mater Larum, Summanus, &c., in the ritual of
the Fratres Arvales[1051]. The case seems to be one of those in which
multiplicity passes into a quasi-unity: but Fons did not survive long in
the latter stage.
ID. OCT. (OCT. 15). NP.
EQUUS AD NIXAS FIT. (PHILOC.)
No calendar but the late one of Philocalus mentions the undoubtedly
primitive rite of horse-sacrifice which took place on this day. Wissowa
has tried to explain this difficulty, which meets us elsewhere in the
Calendar, e. g. on the Ides of May (Argei), June 1 (festival of
Carna)[1052]. Where two festivals fell on the same day, _both_ would not
be found in calendars which were meant for the use, not of the
pontifices themselves, but of the unlearned vulgar; for the latter would
not be able to distinguish, or to get one clear name for the day, and
confusion would result. Now all Kalends and Ides were sacred to Juno and
Jupiter respectively; all other rites falling on these days would stand
a chance of being omitted, unless indeed they were noticed in later
annotations such as we find cut in smaller letters in the Fasti
Praenestini and others.
Luckily the entry in Philocalus’ calendar is supplemented sufficiently
from other sources. The earliest hint we get comes from the Greek
historian Timaeus, and is preserved in a fragment of the twelfth book of
Polybius[1053]. Timaeus after the Greek fashion connects the
horse-sacrifice with the legend of Troy and the wooden horse: but he
also tells us the important detail that on a certain day _a war-horse
was killed with a spear in the Campus Martius_[1054]. The passage is no
doubt characteristic of Timaeus, both in regard to the detail, and the
mythology which Polybius despised. But though we do not know that
Timaeus was ever at Rome, we may hope that he was correct in the one
particular which we do not learn from other sources, viz. the slaughter
of the horse with the sacred weapon of Mars.
Fuller information comes from Verrius Flaccus, as represented in the
epitomes of Festus and Paulus Diaconus[1055]. On this day there was a
two-horse chariot race in the Campus Martius; and the near horse of the
winning pair was sacrificed to Mars—killed with a spear, if we may
believe Timaeus. The place is indicated in Philocalus’ calendar as ‘ad
nixas,’ i. e. the _ciconiae nixae_, which seem to have been three storks
carved in stone with bills crossing each other[1056]: this however was
non-existent under the Republic. The real scene of the sacrifice must
have been an old ‘ara Martis,’ and that there was such an altar in the
Campus we know for certain, though we cannot definitely fix its
position[1057]. The tail of the horse was cut off and carried with speed
to the Regia so that the warm blood might drip upon the focus or sacred
hearth there. The head also was cut off and decked with cakes; and at
one time there was a hard fight for its possession between the men of
the two neighbouring quarters of the Via Sacra and the Subura. If the
former carried off the prize, they fixed it on the wall of the Regia; if
the latter, on the turris Mamilia[1058].
It is probable[1059], though not quite certain, that the congealed blood
from the tail was used, together with the ashes of the unborn calves
sacrificed on the Fordicidia, as ‘medicine’ to be distributed to the
people at the Parilia on April 21.
The rite of the ‘October-horse’ had been adequately described and in
some degree explained by Preller, Marquardt, Schwegler, and
others[1060], before the late Dr. Mannhardt took it in hand not long
before his death[1061]. Mannhardt studied it in the light of his
far-reaching researches in folk-lore, and succeeded in treating it as
all such survivals should be treated, i.e. in bringing it into relation
with the practices of other peoples—not so much by way of explaining its
original meaning precisely, as in order to make some progress by its
help towards an understanding of the attitude of primitive man to the
supernatural. His conclusions have been generally accepted, and, with
very slight modifications, are to be found in Mr. Frazer’s _Golden
Bough_ (ii. 64), and in Roscher’s article ‘Mars’ in the _Mythological
Lexicon_ (2416). Recently, however, they have been called in question by
no less a person than Prof. Wissowa[1062] of Berlin, who seems to take a
different view of the Mars-cult from that at which we thought we had at
last safely arrived: it may be as well therefore to give yet another
account of Mannhardt’s treatment of the question, and to follow his
track somewhat more elaborately than Mr. Frazer. It does not of course
follow that he has said the last word; but it is as well to begin by
making clear what he _has_ said.
1. This is _the last of the series of harvest festivals_, as we may call
them generically. We have had the Ambarvalia and the plucking of the
first ears by the Vestals in May: the Vestalia in June[1063]; the
festivals of Consus and Ops Consiva in August; and lastly we find this
one coming after all the fruits of the land have been gathered in. In
this respect it is parallel to the Pyanepsia and Oschophoria of the
Greeks, to the Jewish feast of Tabernacles[1064], and to the true
Michaelmas harvest-festivals of modern Europe, which follow at an
interval the great variety of quaint harvest customs which occur at the
actual in-gathering. Even now in the Roman Campagna there is a lively
festival of this kind in October.
It should be noticed that the harvest character of the rite was
suggested to Mannhardt by the passage from Paulus (220), from which we
learn that the head of the sacrificed horse was decked with cakes, like
those of the live draught-animals at the Vestalia and Consualia and
feriae Sementivae [q. v.]. This, Paulus adds, was done ‘quia id sacrum
fiebat ob frugum eventum,’ which last words can hardly mean anything but
‘on account of the _past_ harvest[1065].’ There are, I may add, two
points open to doubt here, which Mannhardt does not point out: (1) the
reason here given may be only a guess of Verrius’, and not one generally
understood at Rome[1066]. (2) The concluding words of the gloss seem to
make no sense, a fact which throws some doubt on the whole passage. The
rite is ‘ob frugum eventum,’ yet ‘a horse, and not an ox, is the victim,
because a horse is suited for war, and an ox is not[1067].’ However this
may be understood, we need not quarrel with the conclusion[1068], that
the real meaning of the adornment was to show that the head was an
object possessed of power to procure fertility—an inference confirmed by
the eagerness of the rival city-quarters to get possession of it.
2. The _sacrificed horse represented a Corn-spirit_. The Corn-spirit was
Mannhardt’s chief discovery, and its various forms are now familiar to
English readers of Frazer’s _Golden Bough_, and of Farnell’s _Cults of
the Greek States_. Almost every common animal, wild or tame, may be
found to represent the Corn-spirit at harvest-time in one locality or
another, where the nomadic age has given place to an agricultural one;
or a man, woman, boy or puppet represents the animal, and so indirectly
the Corn-spirit[1069]. Mannhardt produces from his stores of folk-lore
many instances in which the horse thus figures, including the
hobby-horse which in old England used to prance round the May-pole.
Those examples, however, are not strong enough to convince us that the
October horse was a Corn-spirit, though they prove well enough that the
Corn-spirit often took this shape[1070]. But we must remember that he is
only suggesting an _origin_ in the simple rites of the farm, indicating
a class of ideas to which this survival may be traceable[1071].
He does, however, produce an example which has one or two features in
common with the Roman rite, only in this case the animal is a goat
instead of a horse. In Dauphiné a goat is decked with ribbons and
flowers and let loose in the harvest-field. The reapers run after it,
and finally the farmer cuts off its head[1072], while his wife holds it.
Parts of its body (we are not told whether the head is among them) are
kept as ‘medicine’ till the next harvest. So too the head, and also the
tail and the blood, of the October horse were the seat of some great
Power; but whether this was a vegetation-spirit does not seem
satisfactorily shown.
3. _The chariot-race was an elaborated and perhaps Graecized form or
survival of the simple race of men and women so often met with in the
harvest-field, often in pursuit of a representative of the Corn-spirit._
Mannhardt gives examples from France and Germany of races in pursuit of
cock, calf, kid, sheep, or whatever shape may be the one in vogue for
the Corn-spirit; often the animal is in some way decorated for the
occasion. Two of a rather different kind may be mentioned here, though
they occur, not on the harvest-field, but at Whitsuntide and Easter
respectively; but they show how horse-races may originate in the customs
of the farm. In the Hartz the farm-horses, gaily decorated, are raced by
the labourers for possession of a wreath, which is hung on the neck of
the winning horse. In Silesia the finest near horse of the team,
decorated by the girls, is ridden (raced?) round the boundary of the
farm, and then round a neighbouring village, while Easter hymns are
sung. We have already noticed the racing of horses and mules at the
Consualia in August: according to Dionysius, these too were decked out
with flowers[1073]. Mannhardt makes also a somewhat lengthy digression
to point out the possibility that in the original form of the Passover
(on which was afterwards engrafted the Jahvistic worship and the history
of the escape from Egypt) a race or something of the kind may be
indicated by the custom of eating the victim with the loins girt.
There is undoubtedly a possible origin for the horse-racing of Greeks
and Romans in the customs of the farm at different seasons of the year,
and I accept Mannhardt’s view so far, with a probability, not certainty,
as to the Corn-spirit. We may perhaps be able to trace the development
of the custom a little further in this case.
4. _The horse’s head, fixed on the Regia or the turris Mamilia, is the
effigy of the Corn-spirit, which is to bring fertility and to keep off
evil influences for the year to come._[1074]
Examples of this practice of fixing up some object after harvest in a
prominent place in farm or village are so numerous as almost to defy
selection, and are now familiar to all students of folk-lore[1075].
Sometimes it is a bunch of corn or flowers, as in the Greek
Eiresione[1076], and to this day at Charlton-on-Otmoor, where it is
placed over the beautiful rood-screen in the church. Such bunches are
often called by the name of some animal; occasionally their place is
taken by the effigy of an animal’s head, e. g. that of a horse[1077],
which in course of time becomes a permanency.
5. _The cutting off the tail is explained by the idea that a remnant of
the body of the representative of the Corn-spirit is sufficient to
produce this spirit afresh in the vegetation of the coming year._
The examples Mannhardt quotes are numerous, and only gain force when
brought together: I must refer the reader to his work for them[1078].
The word _tail_ not only occurs frequently in harvest customs (e. g. the
cutter of the last sheaf is called the wheat-tail or barley-tail[1079]),
but there is little doubt that virtue was believed to reside in a
tail[1080]. Who knows but that the preservation of the fox’s brush by
fox-hunters has some origin of this kind?
6. The use made of the blood, which was kept and mixed with the ashes of
the unborn calves of the Fordicidia, and with sulphur and bean-straw as
a medicine to be distributed to the people at the Parilia, tells its own
story without need of illustration (see on April 15 and 21). The blood
was the life[1081]; the fire and sulphur-fumes were to purify and avert
evil. Both men and beasts leapt over the fire into which this mixture
was thrown at the Parilia, to gain new life and strength, and to avert
the influences which might retard them.
Finally, Mannhardt has some remarks on the origin of the rite, which
were suggested by Schwegler and Ambrosch[1082]. The Campus Martius, the
scene of the sacrifice, was originally _terra regis_, cultivated for him
by the people[1083]. When the king was the chief farmer, the horse’s
head was carried to his house (regia) and fixed thereon, and the tail
allowed to drip on to his hearth. When the neighbouring community of the
Subura was united with that of the Palatine, the seat of the oldest
community, the remembrance of their duality survived in the contest for
the head: if the men of the Subura won it, they fixed it on the turris
Mamilia, which may have been the dwelling of their own chief. Such
contests are even now well known, or have[1084] but lately disappeared;
and some of them may owe their origin to a fight for the Corn-spirit.
Mannhardt gives some examples—one very curious one from Granada, and one
from Brittany. At Derby, Hawick, Ludlow, and other places in this
country, they or the recollection of them may still be found.
On the whole we may agree with him that the rite was in its origin one
of the type to which he has referred it—a final harvest festival of the
Latin farm. There is yet, however, a word to be said. He does not treat
it from the point of view of the Roman calendar, and thus fails to note
the turn it took when Latin farmers became Roman citizens. Wissowa, on
the other hand, takes the calendar as his sole basis for judging of it,
and with a strange perversity, as it seems to me, brushes Mannhardt’s
conclusions aside, and would explain the rite simply as a sacrifice to
the god of war[1085]. Now doubtless it had come to be this in the
organized city-calendar, as Mars himself began to be brought into
prominence in a new light, as the _iuvenes_ of the community came to be
more and more employed in war as well as agriculture, and as the Campus
Martius came to be used as an exercising-ground for the armed host. The
Calendars show us a curious correspondence between the beginning and the
end of the season of arms, i. e. the middle of March and the middle of
October, which leaves little doubt of the change which had taken place
in the accepted character of the rites of the two periods by the time
the Numan calendar was drawn up. This correspondence has already been
noted[1086]; it may be here briefly referred to again.
On March 14[1087] there was a horse-race in the Campus Martius; on the
19th (Quinquatrus) was the _lustratio armorum_ for the coming
war-season, as is seen from the fact that the _ancilia_ of the Salii at
least—if not all arms—were _lustrata_ on that day[1088]. So too on
October 15 there was a horse-race, as we have seen, in the Campus
Martius, and on the 19th we find the Armilustrium in the oldest
calendars[1089], a name which tells its own tale. The inference is that
the horse-races on Oct. 15 and March 14 had much the same origin, and it
is just this which induces Wissowa to slight Mannhardt’s explanation of
the former. He thinks that on each day the horses, like the arms, were
lustrated (p. x.), i. e. before the war-season began, and after it was
over. This is likely enough; but might not the same have been the case
with the horses of the farm? The Roman farmer’s year began with March,
and the heavy work of carrying, &c., would be over in October. I am
disposed to think that we must look on organized war-material as a
development later than the primitive times to which Mannhardt would
carry us back, a side of Roman life which only in course of time became
highly specialized.
We must never forget that the oldest Roman calendar is the record of the
life of an agricultural people. So much is clear on the face of it; and
in some instances, as in the Ambarvalia, Vestalia, Consualia, and in the
October rite we have been discussing, something of the original intent
can be made out from researches into modern folk-lore or savage custom.
Yet this calendar is at the same time the table of feasts of a fully
developed city-state, and in the process of its development the original
meaning of the feasts was often lost, or they were explained by some
mythical or historical event, or again they themselves may have changed
character as the life of the people changed from an agricultural to a
political one. In the rite of the October horse we may see an
agricultural harvest custom taking a new shape and meaning as the State
grew to be accustomed to war, just as Mars, originally perhaps the
protector of man, herds, and crops alike, becomes—it may be even before
Greek influence is brought to bear upon him—the deity of warriors and
war-horses, of the yearly renewed strength of a struggling
community[1090]. It is looking with modern eyes at the institution of an
old world if we try to separate the Roman warrior from the Roman
husbandman, or the warlike aspect of his god from his universal care for
his people.
XIV KAL. NOV. (OCTOBER 19). NP.
ARM[ILUSTRIUM]. (ARV. SAB. MAFF. AMIT. ANT.)
The first three letters of this word, which alone appear in the
calendars, are explained by Varro and Verrius: ‘Armilustrium ab eo quod
in armilustrio armati sacra faciunt ... ab ludendo aut lustro, quod
circumibant ludentes ancilibus armati[1091].’ This passage may be taken
as referring both to March 19 and Oct. 19, and as showing that the Salii
with the sacred shields were active on both days. This can also be
inferred from the fact that in 190 B.C. a Roman army, on its march into
Asia, had to halt at the Hellespont, ‘quia dies forte, quibus ancilia
moventur. religiosi ad iter inciderant’[1092]—its commander Scipio being
one of the Salii. It can be shown that this was in the autumn, as the
army did not leave Italy till July 15[1093]. It may be taken as certain,
then, that this was the last day on which the Salii appeared, and that
_arma_ and _ancilia_ were now purified[1094], and put away for the
winter.
There are no festivals in any way connected with Mars from this day to
the Roman new year, March 1. As Roscher has remarked, his activity, like
that of Apollo, is all in the warm season—the season of vegetation and
of arms. His priests, who seem in their dances, their song, and their
equipment, to form a connecting link between his fertilizing powers and
his warlike activity, are seen no more from this day till his power is
felt again on the threshold of spring.
We learn from Varro[1095] that the place of _lustratio_ on this day was
the Aventine ‘ad circum maximum.’ I can find no explanation of this: we
know of no Mars-altar in that part of Rome, which was the seat of the
cults of Hercules and Consus. It was probably the last point in a
procession of the Salii[1096].
Footnote 1024:
_C. I. L._ i 2. 281.
Footnote 1025:
Varro, _R. R._ 1. 34. Pliny, _N. H._ 18. 315: ‘Vindemiam antiqui
nunquam existimavere maturam ante aequinoctium, iam passim rapi
cerno.’ Sec. 319 ‘Iustum vindemiae tempus ab aequinoctio ad
Vergiliarum occasum dies xliii.’
Footnote 1026:
See above, p. 97.
Footnote 1027:
Pliny, _N. H._ 14. 88 ‘Vino rogum ne respargito.’ Cp. 18. 24.
Footnote 1028:
_Kulturpflanzen_, &c., p. 65.
Footnote 1029:
1. 21. Dion. Hal. 2. 75. The significance of this covered vehicle
seems to be unknown.
Footnote 1030:
Many passages might be collected to bear out Dionysius’ remarks: the
reader may refer to Preller, i. 250 foll.
Footnote 1031:
Pliny, _N. H._ xi. 250. So ‘dextram fidemque dare.’
Footnote 1032:
Wissowa, in _Lex._ s. v. Fides, Preller. i. 251. Serv. _Aen._ 1. 292
and 8. 636: but Serv. in the latter note says ‘Quia fides tecta esse
debet et velata.’
Footnote 1033:
Libanius, _Decl._ 19; Photius, s. v. κροκοῦν (Bötticher, _Baumkultus_,
p. 43) οἱ μύσται ὡς φασὶ κρόκῃ τὴν δεξιὰν χεῖρα καὶ τὸν πόδα
ἀναδοῦνται.
Footnote 1034:
Hor. _Od._ 1. 35. 21.
Footnote 1035:
The authorities for this and the altars connected with it are Livy, 1.
26; Dion. Hal. 3. 22; Festus, 297 and Paul. 307; Aur. Vict. 4. 9;
_Schol. Bob. ad Cic._ p. 277 Orelli; Lydus _de Mensibus_, 4. 1.
Footnote 1036:
Kiepert u. Huelsen, _Formae urbis Romae antiquae_, p. 92 and map 1;
Jordan, _Topogr._ ii. 100.
Footnote 1037:
So Roscher, in _Lex._ s. v. Ianus, 21; Gilbert, _Topogr._ 1. 180, who
would make it the ‘porta Ianualis’ of Macrob. 1. 19. 17, wrongly.
Footnote 1038:
It is always in the singular, e. g. ‘Transmisso per viam tigillo,’
Livy, l. c. Dionys. writes as if it were originally a _iugum_, i. e.
two uprights and a cross-beam, but does not imply that it was so in
his day.
Footnote 1039:
The altars are mentioned by Festus, Dionys, and _Schol. Bob._
Footnote 1040:
_Lex._ s. v. Janus, 21; quoting Grimm, _Deutsche Myth._ (E. T. 1157,
with quotation from White’s _Selborne_).
Footnote 1041:
Marquardt, 584.
Footnote 1042:
Macrob. 1. 9. 16 ‘[Ianum] Iunonium quia non solum mensis Ianuarii sed
mensium omnium ingressum tenentem: in dicione autem Iunonis sunt omnes
Kalendae.’
Footnote 1043:
This Juno may be the ‘Weibliche Genius einer Frau,’ as Roscher
suggests (s. v. Janus, 22; s. v. Juno. 598, he seems to think
otherwise). But as she is connected with Janus, I should doubt it. For
an explanation of ‘Ianus Curiatius’ cp. Lydus, l. c. ἔφορος εὐγενῶν.
Footnote 1044:
Curriti Arv.: Q[uiriti] Paul.
Footnote 1045:
p. 223.
Footnote 1046:
Paulus, 123; Varro, _L. L._ 6. 21.
Footnote 1047:
Henzen, _Act. Fr. Arv._ pp. 11, 12, 14.
Footnote 1048:
_L. L._ vi. 22. Cp. Festus, 85.
Footnote 1049:
Cic. _N. D._ iii. 20.
Footnote 1050:
Preller, i. 176.
Footnote 1051:
Henzen, _Acta Fr. Arv._ 146. The deities to whom _piacula_ are here to
be sacrificed are deities of the grove of the Brethren: hence I should
conclude that this Fons simply represented a particular spring there.
Footnote 1052:
_de Feriis_, &c., p. xi. To me this explanation does not seem quite
satisfactory, though it seems to be sanctioned by Mommsen (_C. I. L._
i. 2. 332, note on Id. Oct. sub fin.). It is however undoubtedly
preferable to the view I had taken before reading Wissowa’s tract,
that the omission was due to an aristocratic neglect of usages which
only survived among the common people and had ceased to concern the
whole community.
Footnote 1053:
Polyb. xii. 4b.
Footnote 1054:
Ἐν ἡμέρᾳ τινὶ κατακοντίζειν ἵππον πολεμιστὴν πρὸ τῆς πόλεως ἐν τῷ
κάμπῳ καλουμένῳ. This is quoted from “τὰ περὶ Πυρρόν.”
Footnote 1055:
Fest. 178 ‘October equus appellatur, qui in campo Martio mense Oct.
immolatur quotannis Marti, bigarum victricum dexterior. De cuius
capite non levis contentio solebat esse inter Suburanenses et
Sacravienses, ut hi in regiae pariete, illi ad turrim Mamiliam id
figerent; eiusdemque coda tanta celeritate perfertur in regiam, ut ex
ea sanguis distillet in focum participandae rei divinae gratia, quem
hostiae loco quidam Marti bellico deo sacrari dicunt,’ &c. Then follow
three examples of horse-sacrifices. Paul. 179 adds no fresh
information. Paul. 220 ‘Panibus redimibant caput equi immolati idibus
Octobribus in campo Martio, quia id sacrificium fiebat ob frugum
eventum, et equus potius quam bos immolabatur, quod hic bello, bos
frugibus pariendis est aptus.’ (The meaning of these last words will
be considered presently.) Cp. Plutarch, _Qu. Rom._ 97; probably from
Verrius, perhaps indirectly through Juba. Plut. by a mistake puts the
rite on the Ides of December.
Footnote 1056:
See note in Preller’s _Regionen der Stadi Rom_, p. 174. They are
placed by Kiepert and Hülsen (map 2) close to the Tiber and near the
Mausoleum of Augustus, and a long way from the old ara Martis. Perhaps
the position of the latter had changed as the Campus came to be built
over.
Footnote 1057:
Livy, 35. 10; 40. 45 (the censors after their election sat in Campo on
their curule chairs ‘ad aram Martis’). Roscher, _Lex._ s. v. Mars,
2389.
Footnote 1058:
What this was is not known: some think a kind of peel-tower. Possibly
a tower in _quadriviis_: cf. definition of _compitum_ in _Schol.
Pers._ 4. 28.
Footnote 1059:
Ovid, _Fasti_, 4. 731 foll.; Prop. 5. (4.) 1. 19. See on Parilia and
Fordicidia.
Footnote 1060:
Preller, 1. 366; Marquardt, 334; Schwegler, _Röm. Gesch._ ii. 46;
Roscher, _Apollo und Mars_, 64 foll.
Footnote 1061:
_Mythologische Forschungen_, 156-201.
Footnote 1062:
_de Feriis_, ix.
Footnote 1063:
I add this (see on Vestalia). Mannhardt had not handled it.
Footnote 1064:
Levit. 23 fin.
Footnote 1065:
Had they referred to the crops of the next season we might have
expected ‘ob _bonum_ frugum eventum.’
Footnote 1066:
So Wissowa, _de Feriis_, ix. He thinks that it was only an attempt to
explain the _panes_: but he is wrong in insisting that the Vestalia
(where, as we saw, the same decoration occurs) had _nothing_ to do
with ‘frugum eventus.’
Footnote 1067:
To me it looks as if some words had dropped out of the text, perhaps
after the word _eventum_; see the passage quoted above, p. 242, note
1.
Footnote 1068:
Given in Mannhardt’s next section, p. 169.
Footnote 1069:
See under May 15 (Argei).
Footnote 1070:
Mannhardt has not suggested what seems not impossible, that the horse
represented Mars himself—in which case we might allow that Mars was,
among other things, a vegetation deity.
Footnote 1071:
See his language at the top of p. 164.
Footnote 1072:
He ingeniously suggests that these cases of decapitation may be
explained by the old custom of cutting off the corn-ears so as to
leave almost the whole of the stalk. (See his _Korndämonen_, p. 35.)
That this method existed in Latium seems proved by a passage in Livy,
22. 1 ‘Antii metentibus cruentas in corbem spicas cecidisse.’
Footnote 1073:
Dion. Hal. i. 33, who compares an Arcadian Hippokrateia.
Footnote 1074:
Op. cit. p. 182.
Footnote 1075:
See _Golden Bough_, i. 68 foll., and Mannhardt, _A. W. F._ 214 foll.
Footnote 1076:
Mannhardt, _A. W. F._ l. c.
Footnote 1077:
Mannhardt, _Baumkultus_, 167.
Footnote 1078:
p. 185 foll. The tail in Roman ritual was ‘offa penita.’ Marq. 335,
note 1.
Footnote 1079:
In Silesia, &c., the word is _Zâl_, _Zôl_, which I suppose = tail.
Footnote 1080:
_Golden Bough_, ii. 65. Jevons, Introduction to Plut. _Q. R._ p. lxix.
He quotes an example from Africa.
Footnote 1081:
Robertson Smith, _Religion of the Semites_, Lect. ix. In this case,
according to M., it was the life of the Corn-spirit—so of generation
in general.
Footnote 1082:
Schwegler, _R. G._ i. 739; Ambrosch, _Studien_, 200 foll.
Footnote 1083:
Evidence for this in Liv. i 2; Serv. _Aen._ 9. 274.
Footnote 1084:
See e. g. Crooke’s _Folklore of Northern India_, vol. ii. pp. 176 and
321. Crooke looks on these fights (he should have said, the possession
of the object which is the cause of the fight) as charms for rain or
fertility. So in the plains of N.-W. India, ‘plenty is supposed to
follow the side which is victorious.’
Footnote 1085:
Veram huius sacri rationem inter veteres ii viderunt quorum sententiam
ita refert Festus ‘equum hostiae loco Marti bellico deo sacrari’ (_de
Feriis_, p. x).
Footnote 1086:
See under March 14 and 19.
Footnote 1087:
Wissowa thinks it was originally the 15th (Ides); but Mommsen dissents
in his note on Oct. 15 (_C. I. L._ 332). It is the only feast-day in
the calendar which is an _even_ number. Perhaps it was changed because
of the popularity of the revels, &c., on the Ides.
Footnote 1088:
Charisius, p. 81; Marq. 435.
Footnote 1089:
This point of the parallel was first noticed by Wissowa, who, as just
noted, believes the day of Equirria to have been in each case the
Ides.
Footnote 1090:
An apt illustration of this aspect of Mars, in combination with the
older primitive form of ritual, is supplied by the strange sacrifice
by Julius Caesar of two mutinous soldiers, recorded by Dio Cassius,
43. 24. They were offered to Mars in the Campus Martius by the Flamen
Martialis in the presence of the Pontifices, _and their heads were
nailed up on the Regia_. (Hence Marq. infers that it was this flamen
who sacrificed the October horse.) Caesar was in Rome in _October_ of
the year to which D. C. attributes this deed, B.C. 46.
Footnote 1091:
_L. L._ 6. 62. Cp. Festus, 19 ‘Armilustrium festum erat apud Romanos,
quo res divinas armati faciebant ac dum sacrificarent tubis canebant.’
See on March 19 and 23.
Footnote 1092:
Liv. 37. 33. 7. Cp. Polyb. 21. 10. 12.
Footnote 1093:
Marq. 437, note 1. The suggestion was Huschke’s, _Röm. Jahr_, 363.
Footnote 1094:
Charisius, pp. 81. 20 (Keil), for _lustratio_ in March. The word
Armilustrium, used for this day, speaks for itself.
Footnote 1095:
_L. L._ 5. 153.
Footnote 1096:
We have a faint indication that they reached the _pons sublicius_,
which was quite near to the Circus maximus. See Marq. 433, note 8.
MENSIS NOVEMBER.
Of all the months in the Roman year November is the least important from
a religious point of view. It was the month of ploughing and sowing—not
of holiday-time[1097]; then, as now, it was a quiet month, and in the
calendars, with the exception of the ludi plebeii, not a festival
appears of any importance. Later on, the worship of Isis gained a hold
upon the month[1098], which remained open to intruders long after
city-life had taken the place of November agricultural operations.
The ludi plebeii, as a public festival, date from 220 B.C.; they took
place in the Circus Flaminius, which was built in that year[1099]; they
and the epulum Iovis (Nov. 13) are first mentioned by Livy four years
later. The _epulum_ has already been discussed in connexion with the
ludi Romani. The plebeian games were probably at first on a single day
(Nov. 13), and were gradually extended, like the ludi Romani; finally,
they lasted from Nov. 4 to Nov. 17[1100].
The 8th was one of the three days on which the _mundus_ was open: see
under Oct. 5.
ID. NOV. (NOV. 13). NP.
FERONIAE IN CAMPO[1101]. (ARV., a later addition to the original.)
FORTUNAE PRIMIGENIAE IN COLLE. (ARV., a later addition to the original.)
This is the only mention we have of Feronia in Rome. She was a goddess
of renown in Latium and central Italy, but never made her mark at Rome,
as did others of her kind—Diana, Fortuna, Ceres, Flora—all of whom
appear there with plebeian associations about them, as not belonging to
the earliest patrician community[1102]. It is curious to find this
Feronia too in the calendar only in the middle of the ludi plebeii, and
probably on the day which was the original nucleus of the games. We may
either date the cult from the establishment of the _ludi_ or guess that
it was there before them, and was subsequently eclipsed by the cult of
Jupiter.
The latter is perhaps the more probable conjecture; for the little that
we know of the cult elsewhere points to a possible origin of the games
which has not, so far as I know, been noticed. They took place, be it
remembered, in the Circus Flaminius, which was in the Campus Martius;
where also was this cult of Feronia. Now the most famous shrine of
Feronia in Italy, that of Trebula Mutusca, was the centre of a great
fair or market held on the feast-days of the goddess[1103], and on the
whole her attributes seem to be those of a deity of fertility and
plenty[1104]. Is it impossible that she had also some share in a fair in
the Campus Martius long before the establishment of the _ludi_?
The connexion of Feronia with the plebs seems suggested not only by her
position in the calendar, but by the devotion of _libertini_[1105]. In
the year 217 B.C. the Roman _freedwomen_ collected a sum of money as a
gift to Feronia[1106]; though this offering need not be taken as
destined for the Roman goddess, but rather for her of Soracte, to whom
first-fruits and other gifts were frequently offered. The temple of
Feronia at Terracina was specially devoted to the manumission of slaves,
of which the process, as described by Servius, presents at least one
feature of special interest[1107]. Manumissions would take place on
public occasions, such as markets, when the necessary authorities and
witnesses were to be easily found, and the temple of the market-goddess
was at hand; and this may be the original point of relation between this
cult and the Roman plebs, which was beyond doubt by the third century
B.C. largely composed of descendants of manumitted slaves.
The conjunction of Feronia on this day with Fortuna Primigenia (_in
colle_) is curious, as both were goddesses of Praeneste, where Feronia
in legend was the mother of Erulus, a daemon with threefold body and
soul, who had to be killed three times by Evander[1108]. The date of the
introduction of this cult of Fortuna at Rome is 204 B.C.[1109]
Footnote 1097:
Rustic calendars: ‘Sementes triticariae et hordiar[iae].’ Varro, _R.
R._ 1. 34.
Footnote 1098:
Mommsen in _C. I. L._ i. 2, 333.
Footnote 1099:
Friedländer in _Marq._ 499; Liv. 23. 30.
Footnote 1100:
See the table in _C. I. L._ i. 2, 335.
Footnote 1101:
Probably these notes belong to the Ides. In the Arval calendar the
entry is opposite the 14th, but from its position may be really meant
as an additional note to the Ides. There is no other example of
religious rites on a day _after_ Ides. (Henzen, _Arv._ 240; _C. I. L._
i. 2, 296.) The same was the case with all ‘dies postriduani.’
Footnote 1102:
See under Cerialia and Floralia.
Footnote 1103:
Liv. 1. 30. Roman merchants were seized by the Sabines in this market
(Dion. Hal. 3. 32).
Footnote 1104:
Steuding in _Lex._ s. v. Feronia; Liv. 26 11. I cannot see any reason
to connect her with November _sowing_, as Steuding does, p. 1480.
Footnote 1105:
Serv. _Aen._ 8. 564.
Footnote 1106:
Liv. 22. 1.
Footnote 1107:
The cutting of the hair, and putting on of the pileus. See Robertson
Smith, _Religion of Semites_, p. 307.
Footnote 1108:
Serv. _Aen._ l. c. The myth must be Graeco-Etruscan.
Footnote 1109:
Liv. 29. 36. The dedication was 194 B.C. (Liv. 34. 53).
MENSIS DECEMBER
In the middle of winter, until well on in January, the Roman husbandman
had comparatively little to do. Varro[1110] writes of sowing lilies,
crocuses, &c., and of cleaning out ditches and pruning vines, and such
light operations of the farm. Columella[1111] tells us that the autumn
sowing should be ended by the beginning of December, though some sow
beans in this month; and in this he agrees with the rustic calendars
which mention, besides this operation, only the manuring of vineyards
and the gathering of olives.
It is not unnatural, then, that we should find in this ‘slack
time’[1112] several festivals which are at once antique and obscure, and
almost all of which seem to carry us back to husbandry and the primitive
ideas of a country life. On the night of the 3rd or thereabouts was the
women’s sacrifice to the Bona Dea; on the 5th the rustic Faunalia in
some parts of Italy, though probably not in Rome; on the 15th the winter
Consualia; on the 17th the Saturnalia; and on the 19th the Opalia; and
so on to the Compitalia and Paganalia. All this is in curious contrast
with the absence of festivals in the busy month of November.
Women’s Sacrifice to the Bona Dea.
This fell, in the year 63 B.C., on the night between Dec. 3 and 4, if we
may trust Plutarch and Dio[1113]; but the date does not seem to have
been a fixed one[1114]. The rite does not appear in the calendars, and,
though attended by the Vestals, did not take place in the temple of the
goddess, but in the house of a consul or praetor, ‘in ea domo quae est
in imperio[1115].’ It seems to have been in some sense a State
sacrifice, i. e. it was ‘pro populo Romano’ (according to Cicero); but
it was not ‘publico sumptu’[1116], and it was never woven into the
calendar by the pontifices, or it could hardly have occurred between the
Kalends and the Nones. Its very nature would exclude the interference of
the pontifical college, and there would be no need to give public notice
of it.
The character of the goddess and her rites have already been discussed
under May 1. All that need be said of the December sacrifice is that it
was clearly a survival from the time when the wife of the chief of the
community—himself its priest—together with her daughters (represented in
later times by the Vestals), and the other matrons, made sacrifice of a
young pig or pigs[1117] to the deity of fertility, from all share in
which men were rigorously excluded. It must have been originally a
perfectly decorous rite, and so have continued to the famous sacrilege
of Clodius; it was only under the empire that it became the scene of
such orgies as Juvenal describes in his second and sixth satires[1118].
NON. DEC. (DEC. 5). F.
Here we have another festival unknown to the calendars, the Faunalia
rustica, as it has been called. Our knowledge of it comes from the
familiar ode of Horace (iii. 18), and from the comments of the
scholiasts thereon:
Faune, Nympharum fugientum amator,
Per meos fines et aprica rura
Lenis incedas abeasque parvis
Aequus alumnis,
Si tener pleno eadit haedus anno,
Larga nec desunt Veneris sodali
Vina craterae, vetus ara multo
Fumat odore.
Ludit herboso pecus omne campo
Cum tibi Nonae redeunt Decembres;
Festus in pratis vacat otioso
Cum bove pagus;
Inter audaces lupus errat agnos;
Spargit agrestes tibi silva frondes;
Gaudet invisam pepulisse fossor
Ter pede terram.
No picture could be choicer or neater than this; for once it is a treat
to have our best evidence in the form of a perfect work of art. We are
for a moment let into the heart and mind of ancient Italy, as they
showed themselves on a winter holiday. There is an ancient altar—not a
temple—to a supernatural being who is not yet fully god, who can play
pranks like the ‘Brownies’ and do harm, but is capable of doing good if
duly propitiated. On the Nones of December, possibly of other months
too[1119], he is coaxed with tender kid, libations of wine, and
incense[1120]; the little rural community of farmers (_pagus_), with
their labourers, take part in the rite, and bring their cattle into the
common pasture, plough-oxen and all. Then, after the sacrifice, they
dance in triple measure, like the Salii in March.
Horace is of course describing a rite which was entirely rural, as the
word _pagus_ would indicate sufficiently, apart from other features.
Unless he were the god of the Lupercalia, which is open to much
doubt[1121], Faunus was not introduced into the city of Rome till 196
B.C., when the aediles very appropriately built him a temple in the
Tiber-island with money taken as fines from defaulting _pecuarii_[1122],
or holders of public land used for cattle-runs. We may assume that his
settlement in the city was suggested by the pontifices, and that we have
here a case of the transformation of a purely rustic cult into an urban
one by priestly manipulation. It is not impossible that the idea that
Faunus was the deity of the Lupercalia came in about the same
time[1123]. Both priests and annalists got hold of him, and did their
best to rob him of his true character as an intelligible and useful god
of woodland and pasture. He became a Rex Aboriginum[1124], and the third
on the list of mythical kings of Latium[1125]. He became identified with
the Greek Pan. But, in spite of all their efforts, Faunus would not
tamely accept his new position. We hear no more of the _aedes_ in the
island: the Roman _vulgus_ do not seem to have recognized him at the
Lupercalia, and his insertion in the legends had no political effect.
The fact that not a single inscription from Rome or its vicinity records
his name shows plainly that he never took the popular fancy as a deity
with city functions: and the absence of inscriptions in the country
districts also, in most singular contrast to the ubiquitous stone
records of Silvanus-worship, seems to show that he remained always much
as wild as he was before the age of inscriptions began, while the
kindred deity was adopted into the organized life and culture of the
Italian and provincial farmer[1126].
It may be as well, before leaving the subject of this singular being, to
sum up under a very few heads what is really known about him. But so
little is known about the cult of Faunus—and indeed it can hardly be
said that any elaborate cult ever grew up around him—that it may be
legitimate for once first to glance at the etymological explanations of
his name which have been suggested by scholars.
(1) Faunus is connected with _favere_, and means ‘the kind or propitious
one,’ like Faustus and Faustulus, and as some think, Favonius[1127] and
Fons. This derivation was known to Servius[1128]: ‘quidam Faunos putant
dictos ab eo quod frugibus faveant.’ It is not in itself inconsistent
with what we know of the rural Faunus, or with analogous supernatural
beings, like the ‘good people.’ It was accepted by Preller and
Schwegler, and has affected their conclusions about Faunus; e. g.
Schwegler based on it the view, now generally held, that Evander is a
Greek translation of Faunus[1129].
(2) Faunus is from _fari_, i. e. the speaker, or foreteller. This too
was known to Latin scholars: thus Isidorus (perhaps from Varro[1130]),
‘fauni a fando, ἀπὸ τὴς φωνῆς dicti, quod voce non signis ostendere
viderentur futura.’ It was revived not long ago by the late Prof.
Nettleship: ‘Once imagine Faunus as a “speaker,” and all becomes clear.
He is not only the composer and reciter of verses[1131], but generally
the seer or wise man, whose superior knowledge entitles him to the
admiration and dread of the country folk who consult him. But as his
real nature and functions are superseded, his character is misconceived:
he becomes a divinity, the earliest king of Latium, the god of prophecy,
the god of agriculture.’ We may compare with this Scaliger’s note on
Varro, _L. L._ 7. 36: ‘The Fauni were a class of men who exercised, at a
very remote period, the same functions which belonged to the Magi in
Persia, and to the Bards in Gaul.’
(3) Faunus may = Favonius, which itself may come from the same root as
Pan (i. e. _pu_ = purify). Thus Faunus, like Pan, might be taken as a
mythological expression of the ‘purifying breeze,’ the god of the
gentler winds[1132]. The characteristics of Faunus are of course very
like those of Pan; but as it is no easy matter to determine how far
those of the Italian were taken over by the Roman litterati from the
Greek deity, and as the etymology itself is confessedly a questionable
one, this conjecture must be left to take its chance.
But the first two are worth attending to, and each finds some support in
what we know of Faunus from other sources. Let us see in the next place
what this amounts to.
(1) There is fairly strong evidence that Faunus was not originally
conceived as a single deity, but as _multiplex_. Varro quotes the line
of Ennius:
Versibus quos olim Fauni vatesque canebant,
and comments thus[1133]: ‘Fauni dii Latinorum, ita ut Faunus et Fauna
sit.’ The evidence of Virgil, always valuable for rural antiquities, is
equally clear:
Et vos agrestum praesentia numina, Fauni,
Ferte simul Faunique pedem Dryadesque puellae[1134].
Servius has an interesting note on these lines: why, he asks, does the
poet put Faunus in the plural, when there is but one? We might be
tempted to think Virgil wrong and his commentator right, the poet
representing Greek ideas and the scholar Italian, but for a still more
curious note of Probus on the same passage: ‘Plures (Fauni) existimantur
esse etiam praesentes: idcirco rusticis persuasum est incolentibus eam
partem Italiae quae suburbana est, saepe eos in agris conspici.’ My
belief is that these words give us the genuine idea of Faunus in the
rustic mind, surviving in central Italy long after he had been
appropriated as a conventional Roman deity. We seem in the case of
Faunus to be able to catch a deity in the process of manufacture—of
elevation from a lower, multiplex, daemonistic form, to a higher and
more uniform and more rigid one. Yet so excellent a scholar as Wissowa
holds exactly the opposite view, that there was but one Faunus, and that
his multiplication is simply the result of Roman acquaintance with Pan
and the Satyrs[1135]. It would have been more satisfactory if he had
given us an explanation from his point of view of the passage of Probus
just quoted, or had shown us how these Greek notions could have
penetrated into the rural parts of Italy.
(2) Another point which comes out distinctly—unless our Roman
authorities were wholly misled—is the _woodland_ character of the Fauni.
A passage of Varro, of which I quoted the first words just now, goes on
thus: ‘hos versibus quos vocant Saturnios _in silvestribus locis_
traditum est solitos fari futura, a quo fando Faunos dictos.’ This seems
to be a genuine Italian tradition. Virgil was not talking Greek when he
wrote[1136]
Haec nemora indigenae Fauni Nymphaeque tenebant
Gensque virum truncis et duro robore nata,
Queis neque mos neque cultus erat, &c.
The poet imagines an ancient race, sprung from the trees themselves: a
‘genus indocile et dispersum montibus altis,’ living on the forest-clad
hills[1137], to whom foreign invaders brought the means of civilization.
Why should not this tradition be a native one? It is singularly in
accord with the most recent results of Italian excavation; for it is now
absolutely certain that the oldest inhabitants of central Italy dwelt on
the hill-tops, and that the first traces of foreign influence only occur
in lower and later settlements[1138]. The valleys were still undrained
and malarious. These earliest inhabitants who have left their traces for
the excavator, or a still older race scattered on the hills after their
invasion, may have been the traditional representatives of what Preller
has called ‘the period of Faunus[1139],’ regarded by the later
civilization, from their wild and woodland habits, as half demons and
half men. The name of the kindred Silvanus tells its own tale; and his
actual connexion with trees was even closer than that of Faunus[1140].
(3) A third well-attested point is the attribution to Faunus or the
Fauni of power for good or evil over the crops and herds, as we have
seen it already implied in Horace’s ode. Porphyrion[1141] in his
commentary on this ode tells us that Faunus, on the Nones of December,
wishes the cattle, which are under his protection, to be free from
danger. Just before this passage he had spoken of him as ‘deum inferum
et pestilentem,’ thus giving us the dark and hurtful side of his power
as well as the bright and gracious. The same combination of the powers
of doing and averting harm is seen in Mars, as we have already learnt
from the hymn of the Arval Brethren and the formula of prayers preserved
by Cato[1142].
Under this head may be mentioned the belief that both Faunus and
Silvanus were dangerous for women, an idea which finds expression in the
significant word _incubus_, so often applied to them[1143]. We may
perhaps find a reason for the identification of Faunus as god of the
Lupercalia in the most striking feature of the festival—the pursuit of
the women by the _creppi_, who struck them with thongs in order to
render them productive[1144].
(4) The last characteristic of the Fauni to be noticed is that they had
the power of foretelling the future. The verse of Ennius already quoted
is the earliest literary evidence we have of this; but the quaint story
of the capture of Picus and Faunus by Numa[1145], who caught them by
making them drunk with wine at the fountain where they came to drink,
and compelled them as the price of their liberty to reveal the art of
staying a disaster, has an unmistakeable old-Italian ring. The idea
seems to have been, not that Faunus was a ‘god of prophecy,’ as Preller
seems to fancy, but that there was an ancient race of Fauni, who might
be coaxed or compelled to reveal secrets. Sometimes indeed they ‘spoke’
of their own accord; when a Roman army needed to be warned or encouraged
on its march, their voice was heard by all as it issued from thicket or
forest. Cicero and Livy[1146] write of these voices with a distinctness
which (as it seems to me) admits of no suspicion that they are inserting
Greek ideas into Roman annals.
There are also traces to be found of a belief in the existence of local
woodland oracles of Faunus and his kind. It was in a grove sacred to
Faunus that Numa, in Ovid’s vivid description[1147], slew two sheep, the
one to Faunus, the other to Sleep, and after twice sprinkling water on
his head, and twice wreathing it with beech-leaves, stretched himself on
the fleeces to receive the prophetic inspiration as he slumbered. Almost
every touch in this story seems to me to be genuine; and especially the
conditions necessary to success—the continence of the devotee, and the
removal of the metal ring from the finger. Virgil, with something more
of foreign adornment, tells in exquisite verse what is really the same
story as Ovid’s[1148]. And a later poet writes of a sacred beech-grove,
where under like conditions of temperance, &c., the shepherds might find
the oracles of Faunus inscribed on the bark of a beech-tree[1149]. All
this reminds us of Dodona and the oldest Greek oracles: we have here the
quaint methods of primitive shepherds, appealing to prophetic powers
localized in particular woodland spots. Roman exigencies of state drew
by degrees the whole of the secrets of fore-knowledge into the hands of
a priestly aristocracy, with its fixed doctrine and methods of
divination; but the country folk long retained their faith in the
existence of an ancient race, possessed of prophetic power, which
haunted forest and mountain.
These four points, taken together, i. e. the multiplicity of the Fauni,
their woodland character, and their supposed powers of productivity and
prophecy, seem by no means to exclude the possibility of the human
origin suggested long ago by Scaliger, and recently by Prof. Nettleship,
though I would shape the explanation somewhat differently. Wild men from
the hills and woods, for example, might well be supposed to be possessed
of supernatural powers, like the gipsies of modern times[1150]. And the
striking absence of any epigraphical survivals of a definite cult may
possibly be explained by a persistence of the belief in the Italian mind
that Faunus was never really and truly a god, but one of a race with
some superhuman attributes—a link in the chain that always in antiquity
connected together the human and the divine. Horace’s ode shows the
divine element predominating; some local Faunus has, so to speak, been
caught and half deified; and yet, even then, the process is hardly
complete.
There is, however, another explanation of conceptions of this kind to
which I must briefly allude, which was based by Dr. Mannhardt on an
exhaustive examination of the attributes of creatures like the Fauni, as
they occur in various parts of Europe and elsewhere[1151]. The general
result of his investigation may be stated thus. Spirits which seem to
have their origin in woods and mountains find outward expression for
their being in the _wind_; so also do those which seem to have their
origin in corn and vegetation generally. We thus find three ingredients
in their composition: (1) trees, (2) corn, (3) wind. We have only to
think how the invisible wind moves the branches of the trees, or bows
the corn before it, to see how closely, in the eyes of men used to
attribute life to inanimate things, the idea of the wind might run
together with that of objects to which it seems to give motion and life.
The result of its mysterious agency is the growth of a variety of
creatures of the imagination, often half bestial, like Pan and the
Russian Ljeschi, sometimes entirely animal, like the Rye-wolf and many
another animal corn-spirit now familiar to readers of Frazer’s _Golden
Bough_; sometimes entirely human, like Silvanus, perhaps Faunus
himself[1152], or the Teutonic ‘wild man of the woods.’ Mannhardt
endeavours, not wholly without success, to bring the attributes of
Faunus into harmony with this theory. His prophetic _vox_ comes from the
forest in which the wind raises strange noises; his relation to crops
and flocks is parallel to that of many other spirits who can be traced
to a woodland origin; and the word Favonius, used for the western moist
and fertilizing breeze, is kindred, if not identical, with Faunus; and
so on.
This theory, resting as it does on a very wide induction from
unquestionable facts, beyond doubt explains many of the conceptions of
primitive agricultural man; whether it can be applied satisfactorily to
the Italian Faunus is perhaps less evident. At present I rather prefer
to think of the Fauni as arising from the contact of the first clearers
and cultivators of Italian soil with a wild aboriginal race of the hills
and woods. But on such questions certainty is impossible, and dogmatism
entirely out of place.
III ID. DEC. (DEC. 11). NP.
AG. IN.... (AMIT.). AG[ONIA] (MAFF. PRAEN. ANT.)
SEPTIMONTIA (PHILOC.). SEPTIMONTIUM, GUID. SILV.[1153]
For Agonia see on Jan. 9. This (Dec. 11) is the third day on which this
mysterious word appears in the calendars. The AG. IN. of the Amiternian
calendar was conjectured by Mommsen in the first edition of _C. I. L._,
vol. i, to indicate ‘Agonium Inui’[1154]; but in the new edition he
withdraws this; ‘ab incertis coniecturis abstinebimus.’ This is done in
deference to Wissowa, who has pointed out that there is no other case in
the calendars of a festival-name inscribed in large letters being
followed immediately by the name of a deity[1155]. We must fall back on
the supposition that AG. IN. ... is simply a cutter’s error for the
AGON. of three other calendars.
It is impossible to determine what was the relation between this
agonium, or solemn sacrifice, and the Septimontium or Septimontiale
sacrum, which appears only in very late calendars, or whether indeed
there was any relation at all. It is not absolutely certain that the
so-called Septimontium took place on this day. It was only a conjecture
of Scaliger’s (though a clever one) that completed the gloss in Festus
on the word ‘Septimontium’[1156] [_Septimontium dies ap_]_pellatur
mense_ [_Decembri qui dicitur in f_]_astis agonalia._ The word
Septimontium suggested itself, as the gloss occurred under letter S.
Other support for the conjecture is found in the two late calendars, and
in a fragment of Lydus[1157], who connects the two ceremonies.
But even if Scaliger’s conjecture be right, it does not follow that the
Agonium was identical with or was part of the Septimontiale sacrum. The
latter does not appear in the old calendars, as it was not ‘pro populo,’
but only ‘pro montibus’ (see below); and if it was there represented by
the word Agonium, it is not easy to see how the latter should have found
its way into the calendar. It seems better to conclude that the two were
distinct.
About the Septimontium itself we have just enough information to divine
its nature, but without details. The word is used by Varro both in a
topographical and a religious sense: ‘Ubi nunc est Roma, erat olim
Septimontium; nominatum ab tot montibus, quos postea urbs muris
comprehendit[1158].’ Here he implies that the old name for Rome was
Septimontium; but this is only a guess based on the name of the
festival: ‘Dies Septimontium nominatur ab his septem montibus, in quis
sita urbs est; feriae _non populi sed montanorum_ modo, ut Paganalia,
quae sunt aliquoius pagi[1159].’
The _montes_ here meant are the three divisions of the Palatine, viz.
Palatium, Cermalus, Velia; the three of the Esquiline, viz. Mons Oppius,
Mons Cispius, and the Fagutal, together with the lower ground of the
Subura[1160]. I believe that Mommsen is right in thinking that these
were never political divisions—in other words, that they were not
originally distinct communities[1161], but probably religious divisions
of a city which began on the Palatine, and gradually took in new ground
on the Esquiline. The same process can be traced at Falerii, and at
Narce a few miles above it; what we seem to see is not the accretion of
villages—not συνοικισμός—but the extension of a city from one strong
position to another[1162]. This is especially clear at Narce, where it
is distinctly proved by the pottery found in the excavations, that the
hill (Monte li Santi) subsequently added to the original city was not
co-eval with the latter as a settlement; i. e. that it was the
absorption by an older settlement of a probably uninhabited position
which here took place, and not the synoecizing of distinct political
communities[1163]. In the later Rome the _montani_ of the seven
districts, together with the _pagani_, or inhabitants of what had
originally been the farm-country around Rome, formed the united
city[1164]. It is most interesting to find that the earliest divisions,
i. e. of the _montes_, were imitated in the foundation of some
colonies—we should find them probably in many if we had the necessary
information[1165].
All we know of the cult of the _montani_ on this day is as follows: (1)
There was a sacrifice on the Palatium (which seems to have been the
first in dignity of the _montes_) by the Flamen Palatualis[1166]; but we
do not know to what deity, and can only guess that it was Pales, or
Palatua[1167]. (2) On this day no carts or other vehicles drawn by
beasts of burden were allowed in the city, as we learn from Plutarch,
who asks the reason of this, and gives some quaint answers[1168]. But
the explanations are useless to us, and we cannot even guess whence
Plutarch drew his knowledge of the fact, unless it was from personal
observation. Let us remember, however, that this was a feast of
_montani_: is it not likely that this was a survival from a time when
the farm-waggons of the _pagani_ really never ascended to the ‘hills’?
PRID. ID. DEC. (DEC. 12). EN.
CONSO IN AVENTIN[O]. (AMIT.)
XVIII (ANTE CAES. XVI[1169]) KAL. IAN. (DEC. 15). NP.
CONS[UALIA]. (MAFF. PRAEN. AMIT. ANT.) FERIAE CONSO
(PRAEN. AMIT.)
For these see on Aug. 21. If the conclusions there arrived at are sound
we might guess that these winter rites of Consus arose from the habit of
inspecting the condition of the corn-stores in mid-winter[1170]. It is
this day that has the note attached to it in the Fasti Praenestini,
‘Equi et [muli floribus coronantur] quod in eius tu[tela] ... itaque rex
equo [vectus?],’ which was commented on under Aug. 21. See also under
Aug. 25 (Opeconsivia); Wissowa, s. v. Consus, in _Lex. Myth._; and _de
Feriis_, vi foll.
XVI (ANTE CAES. XIV[1171]) KAL. IAN. (DEC. 17). NP.
SATURNALIA. (MAFF. AMIT. GUID. RUST. PHILOC.)
FERIAE SATURNO. (MAFF. AMIT.)
SATURN[O] AD FO[RUM]. (AMIT.)
FERIAE SERVORUM. (SILV.)
This was the original day of the Saturnalia[1172], and, in a strictly
religious sense, it was the only day. The festival, in the sense of a
popular holiday, was extended by common usage to as much as seven
days[1173]: Augustus limited it to three in respect of legal business,
and the three were later increased to five[1174].
Probably no Roman festival is so well known to the general reader as
this, which has left its traces and found its parallels in great numbers
of mediaeval and modern customs[1175], occurring about the time of the
winter solstice. Unfortunately, it is here once more a matter of
difficulty to determine what features in the festival were really of old
Latin origin, in spite of information as to detail, which is unusually
full; for both Saturnus himself and his cult came to be very heavily
overlaid with Greek ideas and practice.
That Saturnus was an old agricultural god admits, however, of no doubt;
the old form of the word was probably Săĕturnus, which is found on an
inscription on an ancient vase[1176], and this leads us to connect him
with _serere_ and _satio_; and popular tradition attributed to him the
discovery of agricultural processes[1177]. But the Roman of the
historical age knew very little about him, and cared only for his
Graecized festival; like Faunus, he is the object of no votive
inscriptions in Rome and its neighbourhood[1178]; and this conclusively
proves that he was never what may be called popular as a deity. As the
first king of Latium there were plenty of legends about him, or as the
first civilizer of his people, the representative of a Golden Age[1179];
but no one has as yet thoroughly investigated these[1180], with a view
to distinguish any Italian precipitate in the mixture of elements of
which they certainly consist. We are still without the invaluable aid of
the contributors to Roscher’s _Lexicon_.
More promising at first sight is the tradition which connects him in
Rome itself with the Capitoline hill. Varro tells us positively that
this hill was originally called Mons Saturnius; and that there was once
an _oppidum_ there called Saturnia, of which certain vestiges survived
to his own time, including a ‘fanum Saturni in faucibus,’ i. e.
apparently the ara Saturni of which Dionysius records that it was at the
‘root of the hill,’ by the road leading to the summit[1181], in fact on
the same spot where stood later the temple of which eight columns are
still standing. Close to this, it may be noted, was a sacellum of Dis
Pater[1182], the Latinized form of Plutus; in the temple was the
aerarium of later Rome[1183], and built into the rock behind, the
chambers of records (tabularia). But it would be idle to found upon
these facts or traditions any serious hypothesis as to the original
nature of the Roman cult of Saturn; all attempts must fail in the
bewildering fog of ancient fancy and ancient learning. Saturnus belongs,
like Janus, with whom he was closely connected in legend[1184], to an
age into whose religious ideas we cannot penetrate, and survived into
Roman worship only through Greek resuscitation[1185], and in the feast
of the Saturnalia. All we seem to see is that he is somehow connected
with things that are put in the earth[1186]—seed, treasure, perhaps
stores of produce; to which may just be added that the one spot in Rome
at all times associated with him is close to the _market_, and that
market-days (nundinae) were said to be sacred to him[1187]. The temple
of Janus is also close by, and it is not impossible that both these
ancient gods had some closer relation to the Forum and the business done
there than we can at present understand with our limited knowledge.
Neither of them, it may be noted, had a flamen attached to his cult;
from which we may infer that they did not descend from the primitive
household or the earliest form of community, but rather represented some
place or process common to several communities, such as a forum and the
business transacted there[1188]. It is precisely such gods who figure in
tradition as kings, not of a single city, but of Latium.
But to turn to the festival; if the god was obscure and uninteresting,
this was not the case with his feast. It seems steadily to have gained
in popularity down to the time of the empire, and still maintained it
when Macrobius wrote the dialogue supposed to have taken place on the
three days of the Saturnalia, and called by that name. Seneca tells us
that in his day all Rome seemed to go mad on this holiday[1189].
Probably its vogue was largely due merely to the accident of fashion,
partly perhaps to misty ideas about the Golden Age and the reign of
Saturn[1190]; but it seems to be almost a general human instinct to rest
and enjoy oneself about the time of the winter solstice, and to show
one’s good-will towards all one’s neighbours[1191]. In Latium, as
elsewhere, this was the time when the autumn sowing had come to an end,
and when all farm-labourers could enjoy a rest[1192]. Macrobius alludes
also to the completion of all in-gathering by this date: ‘Itaque omni
iam fetu agrorum coacto ab hominibus hos deos (Saturnus and Ops) coli
quasi vitae cultioris auctores[1193].’ The close concurrence of
Consualia, Opalia, and Saturnalia at this time seems to show that some
final inspection of the harvest work of the autumn may in reality have
been coincident with, or have immediately preceded, the rejoicings of
the winter solstice.
There are several well-attested features of the Saturnalia as it was in
historical times[1194]. On Dec. 17 there was a public sacrifice at the
temple (formerly the _ara_) of Saturn by the Forum[1195], followed by a
public feast, in breaking up from which the feasters shouted ‘Io
Saturnalia’[1196]. During the sacrifice Senators and Equites wore the
toga, but laid it aside for the convivium, which reminds us of the
ritual of the Fratres Arvales, except that the toga was in the latter
case the praetexta[1197]. These proceedings of the first and original
day of the festival might seem pretty clearly to descend from the
religion of the farm, yet the convivium is said by Livy to have been
introduced as late as 217 B.C.[1198].
On the 18th and 19th, which were general holidays, the day began with an
early bath[1199]; then followed the family sacrifice of a sucking pig,
to which Horace alludes in familiar lines:
Cras genium mero
Curabis et porco bimenstri
Cum famulis operum solutis[1200].
Then came calls on friends, congratulations, games, and the presentation
of gifts[1201]. All manner of presents were made, as they are still at
Christmas: among them the wax candles (_cerei_) deserve notice, as they
are thought to have some reference, like the yule log, to the returning
power of the sun’s light after the solstice. They descended from the
Saturnalia into the Christmas ritual of the Latin Church[1202]. The
sigillaria, or little paste or earthenware images which were sold all
over Rome in the days before the festival[1203], and used as presents,
also survived into Christian times; thus, in the ancient Romish
Calendar, we find that all kinds of little images were on sale at the
confectioners’ shops, and even in England the bakers made little images
of paste at this season[1204]. What was the original meaning of the
custom we do not know; but it reminds us of the oscilla of the Latin
festival and the Compitalia[1205].
But the best known feature of the Saturnalia is the part played in it by
the slaves, who, as we all know, were waited on by their masters, and
treated as being in a position of entire equality. The earliest
reference to this is in a fragment of Accius, quoted by Macrobius[1206]:
Iamque diem celebrant, per agros urbesque fere omnes
Exercent epulas laeti, famulosque procurant
Quisque suos: nostrique itidem, et mos traditus illine
Iste, ut cum dominis famuli epulentur ibidem.
But even this custom, as Marquardt points out, may not have been of
genuine Latin origin: ‘Though the Romans looked on it as a reminiscence
of the Golden Age when all men were equal, it may have begun with the
lectisternium of 217 B.C., for such entertainments were a characteristic
of lectisternia.’ When we turn, however, to the same author’s
account[1207] of the Greek forms of religion introduced through the
Sibylline oracles, of which the lectisternium was one, we do not find
slaves included in the ritual of any of them. There was no general
exclusion of outsiders or women, but nothing is said of slaves. And on
the whole we may still perhaps consider the other explanation possible,
that the slaves here represent the farm-servants of olden time, whatever
social position they may have held, who at the end of their year’s work
were allowed to enjoy themselves ‘exaequato omnium iure.’
XIV (ANTE CAES. XII) KAL. DEC. (DEC. 19). NP.
OPAL[IA]. (MAFF. AMIT.)
FERIAE OPI: OPI AD FORUM. (AMIT.)
For Ops see on Aug. 25, when the sacrifice was in the Regia, the
significance of which I endeavoured to explain. Here it is ‘ad forum,’
which has lately aroused a little unfruitful dispute. Is the temple of
Saturn meant, which was also described as ‘ad forum’ in the same
calendar? This is still the view of Mommsen[1208], who seems to hold the
old opinion that there was a sacellum Opis attached to the aedes
Saturni, or that this aedes was dedicated to both deities[1209]. H.
Jordan made up his mind that ‘ad forum’ meant the Regia[1210]; but this
is not supported by any similar entry in the _Fasti_. Aust and Wissowa
believe that Ops had a separate temple ‘ad forum,’ of which all traces
are lost, as has happened with many others[1211]; and the latter, as we
have already seen, disbelieves in any connexion between Saturnus and
Ops, attributing it entirely to Greek influence.
However this may be, the one interesting fact about the temple—or
whatever it was—is that it was ‘ad forum.’ The conjunction of Saturnus
and Ops at this place and time must surely indicate some connexion of
function between the two. But what it was is not discoverable; under
Saturnalia I have merely suggested the direction in which we may look
for it.
XII (ANTE CAES. X). KAL. IAN. (DEC. 21). NP.
DIVA[LIA]. (MAFF. PRAEN.)
Praen. adds a terribly mutilated note, which Mommsen thus fills up from
stray hints in Varro, Pliny (following Verrius), and Macrobius[1212]:
FERIAE DIVA[E ANGERONAE, QUAE AB ANGINAE MORBO] APPELL[ATUR, QUOD
REMEDIA EIUS QUONDAM] PRAE[CEPIT. STATUERUNT EAM ORE OBLIGATO] IN AR[A
VOLUPIAE, UT QUI NO]SSET N[OMEN] OCCUL[TUM URBIS, TACERET. S]UNT TAMEN,
[QUI FIERI ID SACRU]M AIUNT OB AN[NUM NOVUM; MANI]FESTUM ESSE [ENIM
PRINCIPIU]M [A]NNI NOV[I].
The date given by Pliny and Macrobius proves that Angerona was the deity
of the Divalia; but the etymology of the latter is useless, and the
statement of Pliny as to the statue with the mouth gagged and sealed
fails to give us any clue to the nature or function of the
goddess[1213]. Angerona is, in fact, the North Pole of our exploration:
no one has ever reached her, and probably no one ever will. The mention
of Volupia by Macrobius gives no help; she is only elsewhere mentioned
as one of the numina of the Indigitamenta by Augustine[1214]. The only
possible clue is that of which Mommsen has taken advantage in the very
clever completion of Verrius’ last words, viz. the fact that this day
(21st) is the centre one of the winter solstice. He here even allows
himself an etymology, and derives Angeronalia ‘ab angerendo, id est ἀπὸ
τοῦ ἀναφέρεσθαι τὸν ἥλιον’: quoting Plutarch (_de Iside_, ch. 52) for
similar Egyptian ideas of the sun’s birth at this time. Though the
etymology may be doubtful, the inference from the date of the festival
is certainly acceptable, in the absence of anything more definite: and
the ‘Praenestine fragments’ clearly suggest the word ‘annus.’
X (ANTE CAES. VIII) KAL. IAN. (DEC. 23). NP.
LAR[ENTALIA]. (MAFF. PRAEN.)
Here again Praen. has a valuable note, which, in this case, is fairly
well preserved: FERIAE IOVI. ACCAE LARENTIAE. ... HANC ALII REMI ET
ROM[ULI NUTRICEM ALII] MERETRICEM, HERCULIS SCORTUM [FUISSE DIC]UNT:
PARENTARI EI PUBLICE, QUOD P[OPULUM] R[OMANUM] HE[REDEM FECE]RIT MAGNAE
PECUNIAE, QUAM ACCEPE[RAT TESTAME]NTO TARUTILI AMATORIS SUI[1215].
As regards the feriae Iovi we are utterly in the dark. Macrobius
explains it thus: ‘Iovique feriae consecratae, quod aestimaverunt
antiqui animas a Iove dari et rursus post mortem eidem reddi,’ which is
obviously a late invention. I can see no possible connexion of Jupiter
with the Larentalia, and believe the conjunction to be accidental.
Mommsen writes: ‘De origine Larentalium ipsiusque Larentinae indole ac
natura parum constat.’ He himself has investigated the myth of Acca
Larentia in a memorable essay[1216], and we may take his opinion on the
Larentalia as at present conclusive. It is to be noted, however, that
the view he formerly held as to the impossibility of connecting Lārentia
and Lāres[1217] is not re-asserted in the new edition of the _Corpus_
(vol i); the connexion, he says, may be right, but does not help us to
explain the ‘feriae Iovi’ or the parentatio (performance of funeral
rites) at the grave of Larentina (or Larentia).
This parentatio seems to me the one thing known to us about the
Larentalia which can possibly aid us. We are told by Varro that it took
place in the Velabrum, ‘qua in Novam viam exitur, ut aiunt quidam, ad
sepulcrum Accae[1218].’ The Flamen Quirinalis took part in it, and the
Pontifices[1219]. Now the Parentalia took place in February. Is it
possible that this is a survival from a time when it was in December—a
survival, because it was at the tomb of a semi-deity, and was a public
function[1220]? It is very curious that we have a record of a private
parentatio wilfully transferred from February to December, and probably
to this day. Cicero, in a mutilated passage from which Plutarch has
apparently drawn one of his ‘Roman Questions,’ seems to have stated that
Dec. Brutus (consul 138 B.C.) used to do his parentatio in
December[1221]. Whether Cicero was here alluding to the Larentalia we do
not know; but Plutarch notes the fact of the parentatio of Larentia in
December, and is led thereby to write the quaestio next in order on the
story of Larentia[1222]. Was the learned Brutus simply a pedant,
changing his parentatio to a date which he believed to be the real
original one, or had he some special reason for connecting his family
with December and Larentia?
However we may answer this question, there is, perhaps, a bare
possibility that the Larentalia was originally a feast of the dead of
the old Rome on the Palatine, preserved in the calendar of the completed
city only through the reputed survival of the tomb of Larentia in the
Velabrum at the foot of the rock.
Footnote 1110:
_R. R._ 1. 35. 2; Colum. 2. 8. 2.
Footnote 1111:
xi. 2.
Footnote 1112:
Cp. Hor. _Od._ 3. 18, 9-12. Ovid (_Fasti_, 3. 57) says of
December—Vester (i. e. Faustuli et Larentiae) honos veniet, cum
Larentalia dicam; _Acceptus Geniis_ illa December habet.
Is this only an allusion to Larentia and Faustulus, or also to the
general character of the month and its festivals?
Footnote 1113:
Plut. _Cic._ 19; Dio Cass. 37. 35.
Footnote 1114:
Cic. _ad Att._ 1. 12, and 15. 25.
Footnote 1115:
Cic. _de Harusp. resp._ 17. 37 ‘fit per Virgines Vestales, fit pro
populo Romano, fit in ea domo quae est in imperio.’ In 62 B.C. it was
in Caesar’s house, and apparently in the Regia, if as pontifix maximus
he resided there. See Marq. 346, note 1; 250, note 2.
Footnote 1116:
Fest. 245 _publica sacra_ are ‘quae _publico sumptu_ pro populo
fiunt.’ See my article ‘Sacra’ in _Dict. of Antiquities_.
Footnote 1117:
Juvenal, 2. 86.
Footnote 1118:
2. 83 foll.; 6. 314 foll.
Footnote 1119:
Probus on Virg. _Georg._ 1. 10 ‘In Italia quidam annuum sacrum, quidam
menstruum celebrant.’
Footnote 1120:
The word is ‘odore,’ i.e. sweet herbs of the garden (Marq. 169 and
note).
Footnote 1121:
See on Lupercalia, p. 312.
Footnote 1122:
Lev. 33. 42.
Footnote 1123:
The earliest hint of the connexion of Faunus with Evander and the
Palatine legend is found in a fragment of Cincius Alimentus, who wrote
at this time (H. Peter, _Fragm. Hist. Lat._ 41, from Servius, _Georg._
1. 10).
Footnote 1124:
Dion. Hal. 1. 31; Suet. _Vitell._ 1. Cp. for a more truly Italian
view, Virgil, _Aen._ 8. 314 foll.
Footnote 1125:
_Aen._ 7. 45 foll. The order was Saturnus, Picus, Faunus, Latinus.
Footnote 1126:
Wissowa in _Lex._ s. v. Faunus, 1458: who, however, does not
sufficiently explain the contrast. Silvanus became _tutor finium_, and
_cusios hortuli_ (cp. _Gromatici Veteres._ p. 302). It was probably
this turn given to his cult which saved him from the fate of Faunus.
He takes over definite duties to the cultivator, while Faunus is still
roaming the country in a wild state.
Footnote 1127:
Bouché-Leclercq, _Hist. de la Divination_, iv. 122.
Footnote 1128:
Ad _Georg._ 1. 10.
Footnote 1129:
Schwegler, _Röm. Gesch._ i. 351.
Footnote 1130:
Varro, _L. L._ 7. 36 ‘Faunos in silvestribus locis traditum est
solitos fari futura.’ Servius identifies Faunus and Fatuus; ad _Aen._
6. 775.
Footnote 1131:
‘Versibus quos olim Fauni vatesque canebant.’ Ennius in Varro, _L. L._
7. 36. See Nettleship, _Essays in Latin Literature_, p. 50 foll.
Footnote 1132:
Mannhardt, _A. W. F._ 113 foll.
Footnote 1133:
_L. L._ 7. 36.
Footnote 1134:
_Georg._ 1. 10. The introduction of the Greek Dryads may be thought to
throw suspicion upon the Latinity of these Fauni of Virgil. But in
_Aen._ 8. 314, the similar conjunction of Fauni and Nymphae is
followed by words which seem to mark a true Italian conception.
Footnote 1135:
_Lex._ s. v. Faunus, 1454.
Footnote 1136:
_Aen._ 8. 314.
Footnote 1137:
Cp. Ovid, _Fasti_, 3. 315 ‘Di sumus agrestes et qui dominemur in altis
Montibus,’ &c. Cp. Preller, i. 386.
Footnote 1138:
_Monumenti Antichi_, vol. v. (Barnabei). Von Duhn, translated in
_Journal of Hellenic Studies_, 1896, p. 120 foll.
Footnote 1139:
_Röm. Myth._ i. 104 foll.
Footnote 1140:
Virg. _Aen._ 8. 601, and Serv.’s note: ‘Prudentiores dicunt eum esse
ὑλικὸν θέον, hoc est deum ὕλης.’ Silvanus may have been a true
tree-spirit; Mannhardt, _A. W. F._ 118 foll.; Preller, i. 392.
Footnote 1141:
Vol. i. 335, ed. Hauthal.
Footnote 1142:
See above, p. 126. It may be noticed that the Bona Dea, whose solemn
rite occurs also at the beginning of this month, was identified with
Fauna, the female form of Faunus (R. Peter, in _Lex._ s. v. Fauna); i.
e. their powers for good and evil were thought to be much alike.
Footnote 1143:
Preller, i. 381 and reff.
Footnote 1144:
See under Lupercalia, p. 320.
Footnote 1145:
Ovid, _Fasti_, 3. 291 foll. I am glad to see that Wissowa accepts this
story as genuine Italian (_Lex._ s. v. 1456).
Footnote 1146:
Cic. _de Div._ 1. 101; Livy, 2. 7 (Silvanus), and Dion. Hal. 5. 16
(Faunus) of the battle by the wood of Arsia.
Footnote 1147:
_Fasti_, 4. 649 foll.
Footnote 1148:
_Aen._ 7. 81 foll.
Footnote 1149:
Calpurnius, _Ecl._ 1. 8 foll.
Footnote 1150:
Cp. Tylor, _Primitive Culture_, i. 341 foll.; Sir A. Lyall, _Asiatic
Studies_, ch. 2.
Footnote 1151:
_Antike Wald- und Feldkulte_, p. 152.
Footnote 1152:
See the cuts of two bronze statuettes which Wissowa, following
Reifferscheid, believed to represent the un-Graecized Italian Faunus,
at the end of the article ‘Faunus’ in _Lex._ 1460. But it is at least
very doubtful whether Reifferscheid was right in his opinion.
Footnote 1153:
By an error Silvius has entered it on the 12th.
Footnote 1154:
For Inuus see on Lupercalia, and Livy, i. 5.
Footnote 1155:
_de Feriis_, xii. His other argument, that Inuus is not a nomen, but a
cognomen, is less satisfactory. Can we always be sure which is which?
(e. g. Saturnus, Janus).
Footnote 1156:
Festus, p. 340.
Footnote 1157:
_de Mensibus_, p. 118, ed. Bekk.; quoted by Mommsen, _C. I. L._ i 2,.
336.
Footnote 1158:
_L. L._ v. 41.
Footnote 1159:
Ibid. vi. 24.
Footnote 1160:
Antistius Labeo, ap. Festum, 348: ‘Septimontio, ut ait Antistius
Labeo, hisce montibus feriae. Palatio, cui sacrificium quod fit
Palatuar dicitur. Veliae, cui item sacrificium, Fagutali, Suburae,
Cermalo, Oppio, Cispio monti.’ Before ‘Cispio’ the MS. has ‘Caelio
monti,’ which must be a copyist’s blunder. The Subura is by courtesy a
_mons_; also a _pagus_ (Festus, 309), a _regio_ (ib.), and a _tribus_
(ib.).
Footnote 1161:
_Staatsrecht_, iii. 112. O. Gilbert has made a great to-do about the
development of these communities; _Gesch. u. Topogr._ i. 39 foll. But
where else will he find three distinct settlements in a space as small
as that of the Palatine? The discoveries at Falerii and Narce would
have saved him the labour of much web-spinning. Plutarch, _Q. R._ 69,
has (accidentally perhaps) expressed the matter rightly.
Footnote 1162:
_Monumenti Antichi_, vol. v. p. 15 foll.
Footnote 1163:
_Mon. Ant._ p. 110 foll. (Barnabei).
Footnote 1164:
Cic. _de Domo_, 28. 74.
Footnote 1165:
At Ariminum, and Antioch in Pisidia (Mommsen, _Staatsrecht_, iii. 113,
note).
Footnote 1166:
Festus, 348, cp. 245.
Footnote 1167:
Preller, i. 414.
Footnote 1168:
_Q. R._ 69. Plutarch does not say in what parts of the city the
vehicles were forbidden. The feast existed in his day, and indeed long
afterwards (Tertull. _Idololatr._ 10). It seems to have become a
general feast of the whole people.
Footnote 1169:
Macrob. i. 10. 2.
Footnote 1170:
See below on Saturnalia, p. 271.
Footnote 1171:
Macrob. 1. 10. 2. Macr. tells us that after the change some people in
error held the festival on the 19th, i. e. on the day which was now
xiv K. Ian.
Footnote 1172:
Hartmann, _Der Röm. Kalender_, p. 203 foll., thinks it was originally
one of the _feriae conceptivae_, like the Compitalia, Paganalia, &c.,
and only became fixed (_stativae_) when it was reorganized in 217 B.C.
But if so, why is it marked in the calendars in large letters? And
Hartmann himself points out (p. 208) that Dec. 17 is the first day of
Capricornus, i. e. the coldest season, which in the oldest natural
reckoning would be likely to fix the day (Colum. 11. 2. 94).
Footnote 1173:
Macr. l. c.; Cic. _Att._ 13. 52.
Footnote 1174:
Mommsen, _C. I. L._ i. 337.
Footnote 1175:
Frazer, _Golden Bough_, ii. 172; Brand, _Popular Antiquities_, ch. 13;
Usener, _Religionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen_, 1. 214 foll. See for
Italy, _Academy_, Jan. 20, 1888.
Footnote 1176:
_C. I. L._ i. 48. But Prof. Gardner tells me that the reading Saet. is
not certain.
Footnote 1177:
Macrob. 1. 10. 19 foll.; 1. 7. 24 and 25; Marq. p. 11 note 3. The
conjunction of Ops with him in this function is rejected (rightly, I
think) by Wissowa, _de Feriis_, iv. But see below on Opalia.
Footnote 1178:
Jordan’s note on Preller, ii. 10.
Footnote 1179:
e. g. Virg. _Aen._ 8. 321.
Footnote 1180:
See, however, Schwegler, _R. G._ i. 223 foll.
Footnote 1181:
Varro, _L. L._ 5. 42; Dion. Hal. i. 34 (cp. 6. 1); Fest. 322; Solinus,
1. 13; Servius, _Aen._ 2. 115; Middleton, _Rome in 1885_, p. 166.
Footnote 1182:
R. Peter, s. v. Dis in _Lex._ 1181; Macr. 1. 11. 48.
Footnote 1183:
Lucan, 3. 153; Middleton, op. cit. 167.
Footnote 1184:
Preller, ii. 13; i. 182.
Footnote 1185:
The temple was traditionally dated B.C. 497 (Livy, 2. 21); cp. Aust,
_de Aedibus sacris_, p. 4: so too the festival, though both had an
older origin (Ambrosch. _Stud._ 149). The latter was reorganized in
Greek fashion in obedience to a Sibylline oracle in B.C. 217 (Livy,
22. 1).
Footnote 1186:
Plut. _Q. R._ 34 notes the cult of such gods when all fruits have been
gathered.
Footnote 1187:
Macr. 1. 8. 3 and 1. 16. 30 (also, but probably in error, attributed
to Jupiter). Plut. _Q. R._ 42, and _Poplic._ 12, states it distinctly;
but there is no indication of the source from which he drew.
Footnote 1188:
Cp. the legendary connexion of both with ship-building and the coining
of money; though it is of course possible that this was simply
suggested by the Janus-head and the ship of early Roman coins.
Footnote 1189:
Seneca, _Ep._ 18. 1. Martial is full of Saturnalian allusions; e. g.
12. 62.
Footnote 1190:
Popularized, of course, by the poets: Virg. _Georg._ ii. 538; Tibull.
i. 3. 35; &c.
Footnote 1191:
Was this one of the reasons why Christmas was fixed at the winter
solstice? Cp. John Chrysostom, tom. iii. 497e: quoted by Usener, op.
cit. p. 217.
Footnote 1192:
Varro, _R. R._ 1. 35. 2 ‘Dum in xv diebus ante et post brumam ut
pleraque ne facias.’ Columella, 2. 8. 2, seems to follow Varro. Virg.
_Georg._ 1. 211 extends the time ‘usque sub extremum brumae
intractabilis imbrem’ (cp. Serv. ad loc.).
Footnote 1193:
_Sat._ i. 10. 19 and 22, and Dion. Hal. 3. 32; Plut. _Q. R._ 34.
Footnote 1194:
See Marquardt’s excellent summary in _Staatsverwaltung_, iii. 357, and
Preller, ii. 15 foll.
Footnote 1195:
Dion. Hal. 6. 1. Fasti Amit. Dec. 17. We do not know who was the
sacrificing priest; perhaps the Rex Sacrorum, or a magistrate.
Footnote 1196:
Macrob. 1. 10. 18.
Footnote 1197:
Martial, 14. 1; at least this seems to be the inference from
‘Synthesibus dum gaudet eques dominusque senator.’ Cp 6. 24.
Footnote 1198:
Livy, 22. 1. 19 ‘lectisternium imperatum et convivium publicum.’
Footnote 1199:
Tertull. _Apol._ 42.
Footnote 1200:
_Odes_, 3. 17. Cp. Martial, 14. 70. The pig-offering indicates an
earth-deity: Henzen, _Acta Fratr. Arv._ p. 22; Marq. 173.
Footnote 1201:
Martial, bk. 14, is the _locus classicus_ for all this.
Footnote 1202:
Brand, _Pop. Ant._ 183.
Footnote 1203:
Macr. i. 10. 24; 11. 49. In the latter passage he says ‘quae homines
pro se atque suis piaculum pro Dite Saturno facerent.’
Footnote 1204:
Brand, 180.
Footnote 1205:
Marq. 192, and the passages there quoted.
Footnote 1206:
_Sat._ 1. 7. 37. For later evidence see Marq. 588.
Footnote 1207:
p. 50, and note 13.
Footnote 1208:
_C. I. L._ i 2. 337.
Footnote 1209:
O. Gilbert (1. 247 note) holds this latter view.
Footnote 1210:
_Ephem. Epigr._ 1. 37. Wissowa (_de Feriis_, v) points out that all
such entries, in which the god’s name in the dative is followed by the
place of sacrifice, apply to consecrated temples only—and the Regia
was not one.
Footnote 1211:
Aust, _de Aedibus sacris Populi Romani_, p. 40. Wissowa, l. c., who
should not, I think, write of an aedes _in foro_.
Footnote 1212:
Varro, _L. L._ 6. 23 ‘Angeronalia ab Angerona, cui sacrificium fit in
curia Acculeia et cuius feriae publicae is dies.’ Pliny, _N. H._ 3. 5.
65 ‘Nomen alterum dicere [nisi] arcanis caerimoniarum nefas habetur;
... non alienum videtur hoc loco exemplum religionis antiquae ob hoc
maxime silentium institutae; namque diva Angerona, cui sacrificatur
a.d. xii Kal. Ian., ore obligato obsignatoque simulacrum habet.’ Macr.
_Sat._ i. 10 ‘xii (Kal. Ian.) feriae sunt divae Angeroniae, cui
pontifices in sacello Volupiae sacrum faciunt; quam Verrius Flaccus
Angeroniam dici ait, quod angores ac sollicitudines animorum
propitiata depellat.’
Footnote 1213:
See Wissowa, s. v. Angerona, _Lex._ 350.
Footnote 1214:
_Civ. Dei_, 4. 8.
Footnote 1215:
Macrob. _Sat._ 1. 10. 11; Fest. 119; and Lact. _Inst._ 1. 20. 4
mention the Larentalia.
Footnote 1216:
_Röm. Forschungen_, vol. ii. p. 1 foll. See also Roscher, s. v. in
_Lex._ 5.
Footnote 1217:
Cp. Ovid, _Fasti_, 3. 55.
Footnote 1218:
_L. L._ 6. 23. The passage is in part hopelessly corrupt.
Footnote 1219:
Gellius, _N. A._ 7. 7; for the Flamen Quir. cf. Gilbert, 1. 88. Cic.
_Ep. ad Brut._ 1. 15. 8. Varro, l. c. says vaguely ‘sacerdotes
nostri.’ Plut. _Romulus_, 4, gives ὁ τοῦ Ἄρεος ἱερεύς, wrongly.
Footnote 1220:
‘Sacerdotes nostri publice parentant’ (Varro, l. c.).
Footnote 1221:
Cic. _de Legibus_, 2. 21. 54; Plut. _Q. R._ 34.
Footnote 1222:
Plutarch is often led on in this work from one question to another by
something he finds in the book he is consulting for the first.
MENSIS IANUARIUS.
The period of winter leisure which began for the agriculturist in
December continued into January. From the solstice to Favonius (i. e.
Feb. 7) is Varro’s eighth and last division of the agricultural year, in
which there is no hard work to be done out of doors (_R. R._ i. 36: cf.
Virg. _Georg._ 1. 312; Colum. xi. 2). So too the rustic calendars;
‘palus aquitur, salix harundo caedetur.’ Columella tells us, however,
that if the weather be favourable, it may be possible from the Ides of
January ‘auspicari culturarum officia.’ We have seen that in December
this easy time was occupied with a series of religious rites of such
extreme antiquity that their meaning was almost entirely lost for the
Roman of later ages. After the solstice this series cannot be said to
continue: the calendars have only three festivals in January marked with
large letters, the Agonia on the 9th, and the two Carmentalia on the
11th and 15th. On the other hand, there were two _feriae conceptivae_ in
this month which do not appear in the calendars; the Compitalia (which
might, however, fall before the beginning of the month), and the
Paganalia towards the end of it. Both these were originally festive
meetings in which rural folk took part together, and seem to indicate
that agricultural labours had not yet really begun.
KAL. IAN. (JAN. 1). F.
[AESCU]LAPIO, VEDIOVI IN INSULA. (PRAEN.)
This temple of Vediovis was vowed by the praetor L. Furius Purpureo in
200 B.C., and dedicated six years later[1223]. For this obscure deity
see on May 21. The connexion between him and Aesculapius (if there were
any) is unexplained. The latter was a much older inhabitant of the Tiber
island (291 B.C.), and became in time the special deity of that
spot[1224], which is called by Dionys. (5. 13) νῆσος εὐμεγέθης Ἀσκληπιοῦ
ἱερά. Is it possible that an identification of Vediovis with
Apollo[1225]—so often a god of pestilence—brought the former to the
island seat of the healing deity? The connexion between Apollo and
Aesculapius is well known.
Another invasion of the island took place almost at the same time. In
194 B.C. a temple of Faunus was dedicated there which had been vowed two
years earlier[1226]; and it may be worth noting that Faunus also had
power to avert pestilence and unfruitfulness, as is seen in the story of
Numa and the Faunus-oracle. (Ovid, _Fasti_, 4. 641 foll.)
On Jan. 1, under the later Republic, i. e. after the year 153 B.C., in
and after which the consuls began their year of office on this day, it
was the custom to give New Year presents by way of good omen, called
_strenae_[1227]; a word which survives in the French _étrennes_. It is
likely enough that the custom was much older than 153 B.C.: the word was
said to be derived from a Sabine goddess Strenia, whose sacellum at the
head of the Via Sacra is mentioned by Varro (_L. L._ v. 47[1228]), and
from whose grove certain sacred twigs were carried to the arx (in
procession along the Sacred Way?) at the beginning of each year[1229].
But we are not told whether this latter rite always took place on Jan.
1, or was transferred to that day from some other in 153 B.C.
III NON. IAN.-NON. IAN. (JAN. 3-5). C.
3 LUDI } LUDI }
4 LUDI }(PHILOC.) LUDI COMPITALES } (SILV.)
5 LUDI } (COMITALIS, MS.)
The Compitalia were not _feriae stativae_ until late in the Empire, and
then perhaps only so by tradition[1230]. They took place at some date
between the Saturnalia (Dec. 17) and Jan. 5; and we may infer from
Philocalus and Silvius as quoted above that the tendency was to put them
late in that period. Not being a great state-festival, they could be put
between Kalends and Nones.
The original meaning of _compitum_ is explained by the Scholiast on
Persius, 4. 28[1231] ‘Compita sunt loca in quadriviis, quasi turres, ubi
sacrificia, finita agricultura, rustici celebrabant.... Compita sunt non
solum in urbe loca, sed etiam viae publicae ac diverticulae aliquorum
confinium, ubi aediculae consecrantur patentes. In his fracta iuga ab
agricolis ponuntur, velut emeriti et elaborati operis indicium[1232].’
From this we gather that where country cross-roads met, or where in the
parcelling out of agricultural allotments one semita crossed
another[1233], some kind of altar was erected and the spot held sacred.
This is quite in keeping with the usage of other peoples: the ‘holiness’
of cross-roads is a well-known fact in folk-lore[1234]. It may be
doubted, however, whether the Scholiast is right in his explanation of
the ‘fracta iuga,’ which may rather have been used as a spell of some
kind, than as ‘emeriti operis indicium.’ Thus Crooke[1235] mentions an
Indian practice of fixing up a harrow perpendicularly where four roads
met, apparently with the object of appeasing the rain-god.
In the city of Rome the _compita_ were the meeting-places of _vici_
(streets with houses), where sacella were erected to the Lares
compitales[1236]—two in each case. For the inhabitants of the vici which
thus crossed each other, the compitum was the religious centre; and thus
arose a quasi-religious organization, which, as including the lowest of
the population and even slaves[1237], became of much importance in the
revolutionary period in connexion with the machinery of electioneering.
The ‘collegia compitalicia’ were abolished by the Senate in B.C. 64, and
reconstituted in B.C. 58 by a bill of Clodius _de collegiis_. Caesar
again prohibited them, and the ludi compitalicii with them; but the
latter were once more revived by Augustus and made part of his general
reorganization of the city and its worship[1238].
The Compitalia, which the Romans ascribed to Servius Tullius or
Tarquinius Superbus[1239], was probably first organized as part of the
religious system of the united city in the Etruscan period, though it
doubtless had its origin in the rustic ideas and practice of which we
get a glimpse in the passage quoted from the Scholiast on Persius. Two
features of it seem to fit in conveniently with this conjecture: (1)
that already mentioned, that even the slaves had a part in it, as well
as the plebs; (2) the fact that the _magistri vicorum_, who were
responsible for the festival, wore the _toga praetexta_ on the day of
its celebration[1240]—which looks like a Tarquinian innovation in an
anti-aristocratic sense.
V ID. IAN. (JAN. 9). NP?
AGON. (MAFF. PRAEN.) A mutilated note in Praen. gives the word Agonium.
It may be doubted whether the Roman scholars themselves knew for certain
what was meant by AGON, and whether the explanations they give are
anything better than guesses based on analogy[1241]. Ovid calls the day
‘dies agonalis’:
Ianus agonali luce piandus erit (_Fasti_, 1. 318).
Nomen agonalem credit habere diem (Ibid. 1. 324).
and gives a number of amusing derivations which prove his entire
ignorance. Festus[1242] gives Agonium as the name of the day (which
agrees with Verrius in Fast. Praen.), and says that _agonia_ was an old
word for hostia. Varro calls the day ‘agonalis’[1243]; Ovid in another
place Agonalia[1244]. A god Agonius mentioned by St. Augustine[1245] is
probably only an invention of the pontifices. The fact is that the
Romans knew neither what the real form of the word was, nor what it
meant. The attempt to explain it by the apparitor’s word at a sacrifice,
_agone_? (shall I slay?) is still approved by some, but is quite
uncertain[1246].
The original meaning of the word, if it ever were in common use, must
have vanished long before Latin was a written language. The only traces
of it, besides its appearance in the calendars, are in the traditional
name for the Quirinal hill, Collis Agonus, in its gate, ‘porta
agonensis,’ and its college of Salii agonenses[1247]. It would seem thus
to have had some special connexion with the Colline city.
The same word appears in the calendars for three other days, March 17
(Liberalia), May 21 (Agon. Vediovi), Dec. 11 (Septimontium); but it is
impossible to make out any connexion between these and Jan. 9. Nor can
we be sure that the sacrifice (if such it was), indicated by Agon, had
any relation to the other ceremonies of the days thus marked[1248]. On
Jan. 9 Ovid does indeed say that Janus was ‘agonali luce piandus,’ and
on May 21 the Fasti Venusini add a note ‘Vediovi’ to the letters AGON;
but there is no distinct proof that the agonium was a sacrifice to Janus
or to Vediovis. We are utterly in the dark[1249].
On this day the Rex sacrorum offered a ram (to Janus?) in the Regia.
Ovid says[1250] that though the meaning of Agon is doubtful,
ita rex placare sacrorum
Numina lanigerae coniuge debet ovis.
It is provokingly uncertain whether this ram was actually sacrificed to
Janus: Varro does not say so, and Ovid only implies it[1251]. But we may
perhaps assume it on the ground that once at least in the ritual of the
Fratres Arvales[1252] the ram is mentioned as Janus’ victim.
If this be so, we are carried back by this sacrifice to the very
beginnings of Rome, and get a useful clue to the nature of the god
Janus. The Rex sacrorum was the special representative in later times of
the king; the king, living in the Regia, was the equivalent in the State
of the head of the household. The two most important and sacred parts of
the house are the door (ianua, ianus), and the hearth (vesta)[1253], and
the numina inhabiting and guarding these are Janus and Vesta, who, as is
well known, were respectively the first and the last deities to be
invoked at all times in Roman religious custom. The whole house
certainly had a religious importance, like everything else in intimate
relation to man; and Macrobius is not romancing when he says (quoting
_mythici_) ‘Regnante Iano omnium domos religione et sanctitate fuisse
munitas[1254].’ But the door and the hearth were of special importance,
as the folk-lore of every people fully attests; and it is hardly
possible to avoid the conclusion that we must look for the origin of
Janus in the ideas connected with the house-door, just as we have always
found Vesta in the fire on the hearth. Whatever be the true etymology of
Janus, and however wild the interpretations of his nature and cult both
in ancient and modern times, we shall always have firm ground to stand
on if we view him in relation to the primitive worship of the
house[1255]. There is hardly an attribute or a cult-title of Janus that
cannot be deduced with reason from this root-idea.
The old Roman scholars, who knew as little about Janus as we do, started
several explanations of a cosmical kind, which must have been quite
strange to the average Roman worshipper. He was a sun-god[1256], and his
name is the masculine form of Diana (= moon); he was the _mundus_, i. e.
the heaven, or the atmosphere[1257]. These were, of course, mere guesses
characteristic of a pedantic age which knew nothing of the old Roman
religious mind. If Janus ever had been a nature-deity, his attributes as
such were completely worn away in historical times, or had lost their
essential character in the process of constant application to practical
matters by a prosaic people. How far the Roman of the Augustan age
understood his great _deorum deus_ may be gathered from Ovid’s treatment
of the subject, itself no doubt a poetical version of the learned
speculation of Varro and others. The poet ‘interviews’ the deity with
the object of finding out the lost and hidden meaning of his most
obvious peculiarities, and the old god condescends to answer with a
promptness and good temper that would do credit to the victims of the
modern journalist. The curious thing is that the real origin, humble,
simple, and truly Latin, escaped the observation both of the interviewer
and the deity.
Before I state more definitely the grounds on which this simple
explanation of Janus is based, it will be as well to deal shortly with
the more ambitious ones.
1. The theory that Janus was a sun-god has the support of Roman
antiquarians[1258], and was probably suggested by them to the moderns.
Nigidius Figulus, the Pythagorean mystic, seems to have been the first
to broach the idea: we have no evidence that Varro gave his sanction to
it. It was Nigidius who first suggested the idea of the relation of
Janus to Diana (Dianus, Diana = Janus, Jana), which found much favour
with Preller and Schwegler[1259] at a time when neither comparative
philology nor comparative mythology were as well understood as now. But
the common argument, both in ancient and modern times, has been that
which Macrobius quotes from certain speculators whom he does not name:
‘Ianum quidam solem demonstrari volunt, et ideo geminum quasi utriusque
ianuae coelestis potentem, qui exoriens aperiat diem, occidens claudat,’
&c. It is obvious that this is pure speculation by a Roman of the
cosmopolitan age: it is an attempt to explain the Janus geminus as the
representation of one of the great forces of nature. But it has nothing
to do with the ideas of the early Italian farmer.
2. The theory that Janus was a god of the ‘vault of heaven’ was also
started by the ancients, as may be seen from the chapter of Macrobius
quoted above. Recently it has been adopted by Professor Deecke in his
Etruscan researches[1260]. He seems to hold that Janus in Etruria, as a
god of the arch of heaven, was represented on arches and gates in that
country, and came to Rome when the Romans learnt the secret of the arch
from the Etruscans. That the Romans were the pupils of the Etruscans in
this particular seems to be true; but if Janus only came to Rome with
the arch (Deecke says in Numa’s time) it is hard to see how he could
have so quickly gained his peculiar place in Roman worship and legend. I
cannot think that Deecke has here improved on the conclusions of his
predecessor.
Speculations about Janus as a heaven-god have been pushed still further.
Here is a passage from a book which is almost a work of genius[1261],
yet embodies many theories of which its author may by this time have
repented: ‘He who prayed (in ancient Italy) began his prayer looking to
the East, but ended it looking to the West. Herein we find expressed the
conception of the unity and indivisibility of Nature; whose symbol is
the most characteristic figure of the Italian religion, the
double-headed Janus, the highest god, and the god of all things, all
times, and all gods. He unites the dualistic opposites which complete
the world—beginning and end, morning and evening, outgoing and ingoing.
He is the god of the year, which finds its completion in its own orbit,
and as he is the god of time, so he is the god of the Kosmos, which like
a circle displays both beginning and end at once.’ He then quotes a
passage from Messalla, which Macrobius has preserved, in support of this
astonishing product of the rude mind of the primitive Roman[1262]. Of
this Messalla we only know that he was consul in 53 B.C., and that (as
Macrobius tells us) he was augur for fifty-five years, in the course of
which period, after the fashion of his day, he wrote works of which the
object was to find a philosophic basis for the quaint phenomena of the
Roman religion. His speculations on the double head of Janus cannot help
us to discover the primitive nature of our deity; Janus may have been
the ancient heaven-god of the Latins, but these guesses are the product
of a spurious and eclectic Greek philosophy.
3. There is another possible explanation of Janus, which is not
mentioned in Roscher’s article, but is perhaps worth as much
consideration as the two last. Professor Rhys, in his _Hibbert Lectures
on Celtic Mythology_[1263], somewhat casually identified Janus with the
Celtic god Cernunnos, whom he considers to be the Gallic deity called by
Caesar _Dis Pater_. The one striking fact in favour of this equation is
that Cernunnos was represented as having three faces, and like Janus, as
a head without a body—the lower portion of the block being utilized for
other purposes[1264]. He seems to have been a chthonic deity, and is
compared to and even identified by Rhys with Heimdal of the Norsemen and
Teutons, who was the warder or porter of the gods, and of the
underworld[1265], who sits as the ‘wind-listening’ god, whose ears are
of miraculous sharpness, who is the father of man, and the sire of
kings. Both Cernunnos and Heimdal are thought further to have been like
Janus, the _fons et origo_ of all things. According to Caesar the Gauls
believed themselves to be descended from their deity; and both the
Celtic and Scandinavian gods seem to have had, like the Roman, some
connexion with the divisions of time.
It must be allowed that these two gods taken together supply parallels
to Janus’ most salient characteristics; and even to one or two of the
less prominent and more puzzling ones, such as the connexion with
springs[1266]. It is not impossible that all three may have grown out of
a common root; but in the cases of Cernunnos and Heimdal it does not
seem any longer possible to trace this, owing to heavy incrustations of
poetical mythology. In the case of the Roman, the chance is a better
one, in spite of philosophical speculation, ancient and modern.
We return from philosophers and mythologists to early Rome. The one fact
on which we must fix our attention is that on the north-east of the
forum Romanum was the famous Janus geminus, which from representations
on coins[1267] we can see was not a temple, but a gateway, with entrance
and exit connected by walls, within which was, we may suppose, the
double-headed figure of Janus which is familiar on Roman coins. The same
word janus is applied to the gate and to the numen who guarded it, lived
in it, and was as inseparable from it as Vesta from the fire on the
hearth[1268]. The word does not seem to have been used for the gate of a
city, but for the point of passage into a space within a city, such as a
market, or a street. At Rome there were several such jani[1269];
probably two or more leading into the forum, as well as the more famous
one, which alone appears to have had a strictly religious
signification[1270]. The connexion of the god with entrances is thus a
certainty, though we are puzzled by his apparent absence from the gates
of the city[1271]. The double head would signify nothing transcendental,
but simply that the numen of the entrance to house or market was
concerned both with entrance and exit. It is not peculiar to Italy, or
to Janus, but is found on coins in every part of the Mediterranean
(Roscher, _Lex_. 53 foll.): in no case, it is worth noting, does the
double head represent any of the great gods of heaven, such as Zeus,
Apollo, &c., but Dionysus, Boreas, Argos, unknown female heads[1272],
&c. Its history does not seem to have been worked out; but we can be
almost sure that it does not represent the sun, and has no relation to
the arch of heaven.
Now keeping in mind the fact that Janus is the guardian spirit of
entrances, let us recall again the fact that he was the first deity in
all invocations both public and private[1273], and that Vesta was the
last[1274]. Vesta in the house was, as Cicero expresses it, ‘rerum
custos intimarum’; she presided over the penetralia—the _last_ part of
the house to which any stranger could be admitted; exactly the opposite
position to that of Janus at the entrance[1275]. Both deities retained
at all times the essential mark of primitive ideas of the supernatural:
they resided in and in a sense were, the doorway and the hearth
respectively. What we know of the priests who served them tells the same
tale of an origin in the house, and the family—the foundation of all
Italian civilization. Vesta was served by her sacred virgins, and these,
we can no longer doubt, were the later representatives of the daughters
of the head of the family, or the headman of the community[1276]; the
innermost part of the house was theirs, the care of the fire, the stores
(penus), and the cooking. To the father, the defender of the family,
belonged naturally the care of the entrance, the dangerous point, where
both evil men and evil spirits might find a way in. And surely this must
be the explanation of the fact that no priest is to be found for Janus
in the Roman system but the Rex sacrorum[1277], the lineal
representative of the ancient religious duties of the king, and
therefore, we may infer with certainty, of those of the primitive chief,
and of the head of the household[1278]. In the most ancient order of the
priesthoods, the Rex sacrorum came first, just as Janus was the first of
all the gods[1279]: then came the three great Flamines, and then the
Pontifex maximus, in whose care and power were the Vestals. Translating
the order into terms of the primitive family, we have first the head of
the house, next the sons, and lastly (as women do not appear in these
lists), the daughters represented by the later priesthood, to which they
were legally subordinated. The order of the gods, the order of the
priests, and the natural position of the entrance to the house, all seem
to lead us to the same conclusion, that the beginning of Janus and his
cult are to be sought, and may be found, in the early Italian family
dwelling.
We may agree with Roscher, who has worked out this part of the subject
with skill, that this position of Janus in the worship of the family and
the state is the origin of all the practices in which he appears as a
god of beginnings. For these the reader must be referred to Roscher’s
article[1280], or to Preller, or to Mommsen, who sees in this aspect of
the god, and rightly no doubt, that which chiefly reflects the notion of
him held by the ordinary Roman. He was himself the oldest god, the
beginner of all things, and of all acts[1281]; to him in legend is
ascribed the introduction of the arts, of agriculture, ship-building,
&c.[1282]. He is an object of worship at the beginning of the year, the
month, and the day[1283]. All this sprang, not from an abstract idea of
beginning—an idea which has no Roman parallel in being sanctified by a
presiding deity, but from the concrete fact that the entrance of the
house was the _initium_, or beginning of the house, and at the same time
the point from which you started on all undertakings.
Such developments of the original Janus were no doubt as old as the
State itself. In the Salian hymn he is already ‘deorum deus’[1284], and
‘duonus cerus’[1285], which Festus tells us meant creator bonus. But
even in the State there are, as we have seen, sufficiently clear traces
of his original nature to forbid us to attribute these titles to any
lofty and abstract philosophical ideas of religion.
The known cult-titles of Janus are for the most part explicable in the
same way. Geminus, Patulcius, Clusius, and Matutinus, speak for
themselves. Junonius probably arose from the concurrence of the cults of
Janus and Juno on the Kalends of each month, as Macrobius tells
us[1286]. Consivius[1287] is explained by Roscher as connected with
_serere_, and used of Janus as creator (beginner of life: cf. _duonus
cerus_). Curiatius, Patricius, and Quirinus[1288] are titles arising
from the worship of the god in gentes, curiae, and the completed state,
and have no significance in regard to his nature.
III ID. IAN. (JAN. 11). NP.
KARM[ENTALIA]. (PRAEN. MAFF.)
XVIII KAL. FEB. (JAN. 15). NP.
KAR[MENTALIA]. (PRAEN. MAFF. PHIL. CAER.)
The full name of the festival is supplied by Philoc. and Silv. There is
a much mutilated note in Praen. on Jan. 11 which is completed by Mommsen
thus[1289]: ‘[Feriae Carmenti ... quae partus curat omniaque] futura; ob
quam ca[usam in aede eius cavetur ab scorteis tanquam] omine morticino.’
The first point to be noticed here is that the same deity has two
festival days, with an interval of three days between them. There is no
exact parallel to this in the calendar, though there are several
instances of something analogous[1290]. The Lemuria are on May 9, 11,
13; but here are three days, and no special deity. Kindred deities have
their festivals separated by three days, as Consus and Ops (Aug. 21,
25); and we may compare the Fordicidia and Cerealia on April 15 and 19,
and the Quinquatrus and Tubilustrium, both apparently sacred to Mars, on
March 19 and 23. All festivals occur on days of uneven number; and if
there was an extension to two or more days, the even numbers were passed
over[1291]. But the Romans did not apparently consider the two
Carmentalia to be two parts of the same festival, but two different
festivals, or they would not have tried to account as they did for the
origin of the second day. It was said to have been added by a victorious
general who left Rome by the Porta Carmentalis to attack Fidenae[1292],
or by the matrons who had refused to perform the function of women, in
anger at being deprived by the Senate of the right of riding in
_carpenta_; and who, when the decree was withdrawn, testified their
satisfaction in this curious way.
It does not seem possible to discover the real meaning of the double
festival. It has been suggested[1293] that the two days represent the
so-called Roman and Sabine cities, like the two bodies of Salii and
Luperci. This guess is hardly an impossible one, but it is only a guess,
and has nothing to support it but a casual statement by Plutarch that
the Carmentalia were instituted at the time of the _synoikismos_ of
Latin and Sabine cities[1294].
There is fortunately little doubt about the nature of Carmenta and the
general meaning of the cult. In all the legends into which she was
woven[1295] her most prominent characteristic is the gift of prophecy;
she is the ‘vates fatidica,’ &c.,
Cecinit quae prima futuros
Aeneadas magnos et nobile Pallanteum.
So Ovid, at the end of his account of her:
At felix _vates_, ut dis gratissima vixit,
Possidet hunc Iani sic dea mense diem.
The power is expressed in her very name, for _carmen_ signifies a spell,
a charm, a prophecy, as well as a poem. Now there is clear evidence that
either women alone had access to the temple at the Porta Carmentalis, or
that they were the chief frequenters of it; and they are even said to
have built a temple themselves[1296]. Where we find women worshipping a
deity of prophecy we may be fairly sure that that deity also has some
influence on childbirth. ‘The reason,’ writes the late Prof.
Nettleship[1297], ‘why the Carmentes are worshipped by matrons is
because they tell the fortunes of the children’—and also, surely,
because they tell the fortunes of the women in childbirth[1298].
I am inclined to agree with my old tutor that the Carmentes may
originally have been wise women whose skill and spells assisted the
operation of birth. I do not think we can look for an explanation of the
titles Porrima and Postverta elsewhere than in the two positions in
which the child may issue from the womb, over each of which a Carmentis
watched[1299]; and there is in fact no doubt that Carmenta was a
birth-goddess[1300]. The argument then would be that the spiritual
origin attributed to superior knowledge transforms the owner of the
knowledge into a divine person. As Sir A. Lyall says[1301] (of the
genesis of local deities in Berar), ‘The immediate motive (of
deification) is nothing but a vague inference from great natural gifts
or from strange fortunes to supernatural visitation, or from power
during life to power prolonged beyond it.’
Of the cult of Carmenta we know hardly anything. She had a flamen of her
own[1302], like other ancient goddesses, Palatua, Furrina, Flora. His
sacrificial duties must have been confined to the preparing of cereal
offerings, for there was a taboo in this cult excluding all skins of
animals—all leather—from the temple.
Scortea non illi fas est inferre sacello[1303],
Ne violent puros exanimata focos.
Varro writes ‘In aliquot sacris et sacellis scriptum habemus: Ne quid
scorteum adhibeatur ideo ne morticinum quid adsit.’ We could wish that
he had told us what these sacra and sacella were[1304]; as it is we must
be content to suppose that a goddess of birth could have nothing to do
with the slaughter of animals.
The position of the temple was at the foot of the southern end of the
Capitol, near the Porta Carmentalis[1305], where, according to Servius,
she was said to have been buried (cp. Acca Larentia, Dec. 23). It is
noticeable that the festivals of this winter period are connected with
sites near the Capitol and Forum; we have already had Saturnus, Ops, and
Janus.
If the reader should ask why a goddess of birth should be specially
worshipped in the depth of winter, he may perhaps find a reason for it
after reading the third chapter of Westermarck’s _History of Human
Marriage_. As far as we can judge from the calendar, April was the month
at Rome when marriages and less legal unions were especially
frequent[1306]; during May and the first days of June marriages were not
desirable[1307]. In January therefore births might naturally be
expected.
Ovid tells us (1. 463) that _Juturna_ was also worshipped on Jan.
11[1308]; but whether in any close connexion with Carmenta we do not
know. They are both called Nymphs; but from this we can hardly make any
inference. Juturna was certainly a fountain-deity: I can find no good
evidence that this was one of Carmenta’s attributes. The fount of
Juturna was near the Vesta-temple[1309], and therefore close to the
Forum: its water was used, says Servius, for all kinds of sacrifices,
and itself was the object of sacrifice in a drought. All took part in
the festival who used water in their daily work (‘qui artificium aqua
exercent’). But the Juturnalia appears in no calendar, and Aust is no
doubt right in explaining it only as the dedication-festival of the
temple built by Augustus in B.C. 2[1310].
Feriae Sementivae[1311]. Paganalia.
Under date of Jan. 24-26, Ovid[1312] writes in charming verse of the
_feriae conceptivae_ called Sementivae (or -tinae), which from his
account would seem to be identical with the so-called Paganalia[1313].
Just as the Compitalia of the city probably had its origin in the
country (see on Jan. 3-5), though the rustic _compita_ were almost
unknown to the later Romans, so the festival of sowing was kept up in
the city (‘a pontificibus dictus,’ Varro, _L. L._ 6. 26) as Sementinae,
long after the Roman population had ceased to sow. In the country it was
known—so we may guess—by the less technical name of Paganalia[1314], as
being celebrated by the rural group of homesteads known as the _pagus_.
As to the object and nature of the festival, let Ovid speak for himself:
State coronati plenum ad praesaepe iuvenei:
Cum tepido vestrum vere redibit opus.
Rusticus emeritum palo suspendat aratrum[1315]:
Omne reformidat frigida volnus humus.
Vilice, da requiem terrae, _semente peracta_:
Da requiem terram qui coluere viris.
Pagus agat festum: pagum lustrate, coloni,
Et date paganis annua liba focis.
Placentur frugum matres, Tellusque Ceresque,
Farre suo, gravidae visceribusque suis.
Officium commune Ceres et Terra tuentur:
Haec praebet causam frugibus, illa locum.
Ceres and Tellus, ‘consortes operis,’ are to be invoked to bring to
maturity the seed sown in the autumn, by preserving it from all pests
and hurtful things; and also to assist the sower in his work in the
spring that is at hand. This at least is how I understand the lines
(681, 682):
Cum serimus, caelum ventis aperite serenis;
Cum latet, aetheria spargite semen aqua.
Or if it be argued that both these lines may very well refer to the
spring, it is at least certain that the poet understood the festival to
cover the past autumn sowing:
Utque dies incerta sacro, sic tempora certa,
Seminibus iactis est ubi fetus ager[1316].
Varro tells us[1317] that the time of the autumn sowing extended from
the equinox to the winter solstice; after which, as we have seen, the
husbandmen rested from their labours in the fields, and enjoyed the
festivals we have been discussing since Dec. 17 (Consualia). The last of
these is the Paganalia, i. e. the one nearest in date, if we may go by
Ovid, to the time for setting to work at the spring sowing, which began
on or about Feb. 7 (Favonius).[1318] It would thus be quite natural that
this festival should have reference not only to the seed already in the
ground, but also to that which was still to be sown. If Ovid lays stress
on the former, Varro and Lydus seem to be thinking chiefly of the
latter[1319].
Ovid has told us what was the nature of the rites. According to him,
Ceres and Tellus were the deities concerned, and with this Lydus agrees.
We need not be too certain about the names[1320], considering the
‘fluidity’ and impersonality of early Roman _numina_ of this type; but
the type itself is obvious. There were offerings of cake, and a
sacrifice of a pregnant sow; the oxen which had served in the ploughing
were decorated with garlands; prayers were offered for the protection of
the seed from bird and beast and disease. If we may believe a note of
Probus’[1321], _oscilla_ were hung from the trees, as at the Latin
festival, &c., doubtless as a charm against evil influences.
VI KAL. FEB. (Jan. 27). C.
AEDIS [CASTORIS ET PO]LLUCIS DEDICA[TA EST ...]. (PRAEN.)
Mommsen’s restoration of this note in the Fasti of Praeneste is based on
Ov. _Fast._ 1. 705-8:
At quae venturas praecedet sexta Kalendas,
Hac sunt Ledaeis templa dicata deis.
Fratribus illa deis fratres de gente deorum
Circa Iuturnae composuere lacus.
But Livy[1322] gives the Ides of July as the day of dedication, and a
difference of learned opinion has arisen[1323]. July 15, B.C. 496, is
the traditional date of the battle of Lake Regillus, and the temple was
dedicated B.C. 484—the result of the Consul’s vow in that battle[1324].
Mommsen infers that Livy confused the date of the dedication with that
of the battle, and that Jan. 27 is right. Aust and others differ, and
refer the latter date to a restoration by Tiberius, probably in A.D.
6[1325]. The mistake in Livy is easy to explain, and Mommsen’s
explanation seems sufficient[1326]. Three beautiful columns of Tiberius’
temple are still to be seen at the south-eastern end of the Forum, near
the temple of Vesta, and close to the Iacus Juturnae, where the Twins
watered their steeds after the battle[1327].
The very early introduction of the Dioscuri into the Roman worship is
interesting as being capable of unusually distinct proof. They must have
been known long before the battle of the Regillus; and they took a
peculiarly firm hold on the Roman mind, as we see from the common oaths
Edepol, Mecastor, from their representation on the earliest
denarii[1328], from their connexion with the equites throughout Roman
history, and from the great popularity of their legend, which was
reproduced in connexion with later battles[1329]. The spread of the cult
through Southern Italy to Latium and Etruria (where it was also a
favourite) is the subject of a French monograph[1330].
Footnote 1223:
Livy, 31. 21; 34. 53. The MSS have ‘deo Iovi’ in the former passage,
and ‘Iovis’ in the second; but it is almost certain that Vediovis is
the deity referred to. See Mommsen in _C. I. L._ i. 2. 305 for the
confusion in these passages, and in Livy, 35. 41. (Cp. Ovid, _Fasti_,
i. 291-3.)
Footnote 1224:
Livy, _Epit._ 11, and 10. 47; Preller, ii. 241; Plut. _Q. R._ 94;
Jordan, in _Comm. in hon. Momms._ p. 349 foll.
Footnote 1225:
See under May 21. Deecke, _Falisker_, 96.
Footnote 1226:
Livy, 33. 42, 34. 53; Jordan, l. c.
Footnote 1227:
These and their later history are the subject of a most exhaustive
treatise by Martin Lipenius, in Graevius’ _Thesaurus_, vol. xii, p.
405. See also Marq. _Privatleben_, 1. 2, 245. For the sentiment
implied in the _strenae_ see Ovid, _Fasti_, 1. 71 foll. and 175.
Footnote 1228:
Cp. Fest. 290.
Footnote 1229:
Symmachus, ep. 10. 35 ‘Ab exortu paene urbis Martiae strenarum usus
adolevit, auctoritate Tatii regis, qui verbenas felicis arboris ex
luco Strenuae anni novi auspices primus accepit.’
Footnote 1230:
Varro, _L. L._ 6. 25 ‘quotannis is dies concipitur’ (for the right
reading of the rest of the passage see Mommsen, _C. I. L._ 305).
Macrobius (1. 16. 6) reckons them as conceptivae, in the fourth
century; Philoc. and Silv. may be representing a _traditional_ date
for a feast which was _iure conceptivus_. So Momms. Cp. Gell. 10. 24.
3, where the formula for fixing the date is given; and Cic. _in Pis._
4. 8. It was the praetor (urbanus?) who in this case made the
announcement.
Footnote 1231:
Cp. Philargyrius, _Georg._ 2. 382 ‘[compita] ubi pagani agrestes
buccina convocati solent certa inire consilia’; no doubt discussion
about agricultural matters.
Footnote 1232:
Cp. Ovid, _Fasti_, 1. 665, of the Paganalia: ‘Rusticus emeritum palo
suspendat aratrum.’ (Cp. Tibull. ii. 1. 5.) Such features were perhaps
common to all these rustic winter rejoicings.
Footnote 1233:
_Grom. Vet._ 302. 20 foll.
Footnote 1234:
For Greece see Farnell, _Cults_, ii. 561 and 598.
Footnote 1235:
_Folklore in Northern India_, i. 77.
Footnote 1236:
Marq. 203; Dion. Hal. 4. 14; Ovid, _Fasti_, 2. 615 and 5. 140. Wissowa
(_Myth. Lex._ s. v. Lares, p. 1874) would limit them in origin to the
pagi outside the septem montes, as the latter had their own sacra.
Footnote 1237:
Dion. Hal. 4. 14 οὐ τοὺς ἐλευθέρους ἀλλὰ τοὺς δούλους ἔταξε (i. e.
Serv. Tull.) παρεῖναί τε καὶ συνιερουργεῖν, ὡς κεχαρισμένης τοῖς ἥρωσι
τῆς τῶν θεραπόντων ὑπηρεσίας (Cic. _pro Sestio_, 15. 34).
Footnote 1238:
Marq. 204; Rushforth, _Latin Historical Inscriptions_, p. 59 foll.
Footnote 1239:
Pliny, _N. H._ 36. 204; Macrob. 1. 7. 34; Dion. l. c.
Footnote 1240:
Asconius, p. 6, K. Sch. Livy, 34. 7. 2.
Footnote 1241:
So Wissowa, _de Feriis_, xii note. Cp. his article ‘Agonium’ in the
new edition of Pauly’s _Real-Encycl._
Footnote 1242:
p. 10. Cp. Ovid, _Fasti_, 1. 331 ‘Et pecus antiquus dicebat agonia
sermo.’
Footnote 1243:
He uses the plural: ‘Agonales (dies) per quos rex in regia arietem
immolat’ (_L. L._ 6. 12). But only Jan. 9 seems to be alluded to.
Footnote 1244:
_Fasti_, 1. 325; cf. Macrob. 1. 16. 5.
Footnote 1245:
_Civ. Dei_, 4. 11. 16. Ambrosch (_Studien_, 149) thinks it possible
that Agonius may have been a god of the Colline city.
Footnote 1246:
Bücheler, _Umbrica_, p. 30. B. apparently sees in the Umbrian ‘sakreu
perakneu’ an equivalent to ‘hostias agonales.’ The Iguvian ritual is
certainly the most likely document to be useful; it at least shows how
large was the store of sacrificial vocabulary.
Footnote 1247:
Fest. p. 10. For the Salii, Varro, _L. L._ 6. 14.
Footnote 1248:
Wissowa, _de Feriis_, xii.
Footnote 1249:
When Varro writes (_L. L._ 6. 12) that the dies agonales are those in
which the Rex sacrorum sacrifices a ram in the Regia, he may be
including all the four days, and not only Jan. 9. I think this is
likely; but we only know it of Jan. 9.
Footnote 1250:
_Fasti_, i. 333. Varro _L. L._ 6. 12 ‘Agonales (dies) per quos rex in
regia arietem immolat.’
Footnote 1251:
Cp. lines 318 and 333.
Footnote 1252:
Henzen, 144. An ‘agna’ is the only other animal sacrifice we know of
to Janus (Roscher, in _Lex._ 42).
Footnote 1253:
Roscher, in _Lex._ s. v. Ianus, 29 foll. (cp. for much interesting
kindred matter, De-Marchi, _Il Culto privato_, p. 20 foll.). Roscher’s
attempt to find an analogy between the Forum and the house is
interesting, but unluckily the positions ‘ad Forum’ of the ‘Ianus
geminus’ and the ‘aedes Vestae’ do not exactly answer to those of the
door and hearth of a Roman house.
Footnote 1254:
_Sat._ i. 9. 2; Procopius, _B. G._ 1. 25, who says that ‘Janus
belonged to the gods whom the Romans in their tongue called Penates,’
seems to be alluding to the same connexion of this god and the house.
Footnote 1255:
We owe this explanation of Janus chiefly to Roscher’s article, and
Roscher himself owed it to the fact that his study of Janus for the
article was a second and not a first attempt. In _Hermes der Windgott_
(Leipzig, 1878) he had arrived at a very different and a far less
rational conclusion. The influence of Mannhardt and the folk-lorists
set him on the right track.
Footnote 1256:
Nigidius Figulus in Macrob. i. 9. 8.
Footnote 1257:
See Roscher, _Lex._ 44.
Footnote 1258:
Macrob. 1. 9. 9; Lydus, _de Mensibus_, 4. 6 (who quotes Lutatius).
Footnote 1259:
Schwegler, _R. G._ i. 218 foll.; Preller, 1. 168 foll. The etymology
is weak; the god and goddess have nothing common in cult or myth; it
is not certain that Diana was originally the moon; and the great
Italian deities are not coupled together in this way.
Footnote 1260:
ii. 125 foll. Cf. Müller’s _Etrusker_ (ed. Deecke), ii. 58 foll.
Müller, with his usual good sense, concluded from the evidence that
the Latin Janus was a god of gates; but he thought that an Etruscan
deity of the vault or arch of heaven had been amalgamated with him.
This is not impossible, if there was really such an Etruscan god; and
Deecke finds him in Ani, who in Etruscan theology seems to have had
his seat in the northern part of the heaven (Mart. Capell. 1. 45)
where Janus was also represented in the templum of Piacenza (_Lex._ s.
v. Janus, p. 28). But this must remain a doubtful point, even though
Lydus (4. 2) tells us that Varro said that the god παρὰ θούσκοις
οὐρανὸν λέγεσθαι.
Footnote 1261:
Nissen, _Templum_, p. 228.
Footnote 1262:
Macrob. 1. 9. 16.
Footnote 1263:
p. 93 foll.; Caes. _B. G._ 6. 18.
Footnote 1264:
M. Mowat thought that this was Janus naturalized in Gaul; but with
Prof. Rhys (p. 81 note) I cannot but think this unlikely.
Footnote 1265:
See _Corpus Poeticum Boreale_, ii. 465.
Footnote 1266:
Roscher, in _Lex._ 18; Rhys, 1. c. 88.
Footnote 1267:
Roscher, _Lex._ 17; Jordan, _Topogr._ 1. 2. 351.
Footnote 1268:
Cic. _De Nat. Deorum_, 2. 27. 67 ‘Transitiones perviae iani, foresque
in liminibus profanarum aedium ianuae nominantur.’ Cp. Macrob. 1. 9.
7.
Footnote 1269:
On the whole question see Jordan, _Topogr_. 1. 2. 215 foll. Ovid
(_Fasti_, 1.257) asks the god ‘Cum tot sint iani, cur stas sacratus in
uno?‘
Footnote 1270:
From Falerii came another janus, with a four-headed simulacrum, which
was set up in the Forum transitorium (Macr. 1. 9. 13; Jordan, _Top_.
1. 2. 348).
Footnote 1271:
Preller made an attempt, which Roscher approves, to identify Portunus
with Janus, Portunus being, according to Varro, ‘Deus portuum
portarumque praeses’ (Interpr. Veron. _Aen._ v. 241). But see on Aug.
17.
Footnote 1272:
The nearest approach to Janus is the Hermes θυραῖος or στροφαῖος
(single head only?) and Hermes with two, three, or four heads at the
meeting-points of streets. These are points which suggested to Roscher
in his older work an elaborate comparison of Hermes and Janus (p. 119
foll.).
Footnote 1273:
See Marq 25, 26 and notes.
Footnote 1274:
Cic. _N. D._ 2. 27; Preller, ii. 172.
Footnote 1275:
For the evidence of this position of Janus in the cults of the house
see Roscher, _Lex._ 32; it is indirect, but sufficiently convincing.
Footnote 1276:
See my article ‘Vestales’ in _Dict. of Antiquities_, ed. 2.
Footnote 1277:
Marq. 321 foll. Besides the sacrifice in the Regia on Jan. 9, the Rex
and his wife, the Regina sacrorum, sacrificed to Juno in the Regia on
the Kalends of every month, and apparently also to Janus (Junonius) to
whom there were twelve altars (in the Regia?) one for each month.
Macr. 1. 9. 16 and 1. 15. 19.
Footnote 1278:
For the father as the natural defender of the family, see Westermarck,
_Hist. of Human Marriage_, ch. 3.
Footnote 1279:
Festus, 185 ‘Maximus videtur Rex, dein Dialis, post hunc Martialis,
quarto loco Quirinalis, quinto pontifex maximus.’ For the
corresponding place of Janus, Liv. 8. 9. 6; Cato, _R. R._ 134; Marq.
26.
Footnote 1280:
_Lex._ 37 foll.; Preller, 1. 166 foll.; Mommsen, _R. H._ i. 173.
Footnote 1281:
Ἔφορος πάσης πράξεως, says Lydus, 4. 2, quoting Varro; cp. Ovid,
_Fasti_, 165 foll.
Footnote 1282:
Plut. _Q. R._ 22.
Footnote 1283:
Macrob. 1. 9. 16; Horace, _Sat._ ii. 6. 20 foll.
Footnote 1284:
Macrob. 1. 9. 14.
Footnote 1285:
Varro, _L. L._ 7. 26; Fest. 122.
Footnote 1286:
Macr. 1. 9. 16.
Footnote 1287:
Macr. l. c. Wissowa (_de Feriis_, vi) says the true form is
cons_e_vius; but the etymology holds.
Footnote 1288:
Roscher, _Lex._ 21, 26, 40.
Footnote 1289:
_C. I. L._ 1. 307, on the evidence of Ovid, _Fast._ 1. 629 and Varro,
_L. L._ 7. 84.
Footnote 1290:
Wissowa, _de Feriis_, viii.
Footnote 1291:
Mommsen, _C. I. L._ 1. 288.
Footnote 1292:
Fast. Praen. on Jan. 15 (mutilated). Cp. Ovid, _Fast._ 1. 619, and
Plut. _Q. R._ 56. Festus, 245.
Footnote 1293:
By Huschke, _Röm. Jahr_, 199. There was probably more than one
Carmenta (Gell. 16. 16. 4), if we consider Porrima and Postverta as
two forms of the goddess; and the two days may have some relation to
this duality. Perhaps there were two altars in the temple. Ovid,
_Fasti_, 1. 627.
Footnote 1294:
Plut. _Romulus_, 21.
Footnote 1295:
See Wissowa in _Lex. Myth._ i. 851; Ovid. _Fasti_, 1. 461 foll.; Virg.
_Aen._ 8. 336. The eighth Aeneid, it may be remarked, should be learnt
by heart by all investigators into Roman antiquity.
Footnote 1296:
Plut. _Q. R._ 56: cp. Dion. Hal. 1. 31. 1-9, from whom Plutarch may
have drawn his information, directly or perhaps through Juba. For the
temple they built cp. Gell. 18. 7. 2. If this temple be a different
one from that under the Capitol, it may suggest an explanation of the
double festival.
Footnote 1297:
_Studies in Latin Literature_, p. 48 foll.; _Journal of Philology_,
xi. 178.
Footnote 1298:
See on Fortuna, above, p. 167.
Footnote 1299:
Ovid, _Fast._ 1. 633; Varro in Gell. 16. 6. 4. Nettleship takes a
different view of these words. But see Wissowa in _Lex._ 1. 853;
Preller, i. 406.
Footnote 1300:
St. Augustine, _C. D._ 4. 11 ‘In illis deabus quae fata nascentibus
canunt et vocantur Carmentes.’
Footnote 1301:
_Asiatic Studies_, p. 20.
Footnote 1302:
Cic. _Brut._ 14. 56; _C. I. L._ vi. 3720; and _Eph. Ep._ iv. 759. The
rite of Jan. 11 is called ‘sacrum pontificale’ by Ovid (_Fast._ 1.
462), whence we infer that the pontifices had a part in it as well as
the flamen.
Footnote 1303:
Ovid, _Fast._ 1. 629. Cp. Varro, _L. L._ 7. 84. This passage of Varro
may possibly raise a doubt whether the taboo did not arise from a
mistaken interpretation of the words _scortum_ and _pellicula_, as
Carmenta was especially worshipped by matrons.
Footnote 1304:
The more so as we have no inscriptions relating to Carmenta. Though
her flaminium continued to exist under the Empire, she herself
practically disappeared. I am inclined to guess that her attributes
were to some extent usurped by the more popular and plebeian Fortuna.
Footnote 1305:
Solinus, 1. 13; Serv. _Aen._ 8. 336 and 337.
Footnote 1306:
See especially under April 1 and 28, the days of Fortuna virilis and
Flora.
Footnote 1307:
Ovid, _Fasti_, 6. 223 foll.
Footnote 1308:
Juturnalia, Serv. _Aen._ 12. 139.
Footnote 1309:
Jordan, _Topogr._ 1. 2. 370; Wissowa in _Lex._ s. v. Iuturna.
Footnote 1310:
Aust, _de Aedibus sacris_, p. 45.
Footnote 1311:
Sementinae, according to Jordan in Prell. 2. 5, note 2.
Footnote 1312:
_Fasti_, 1. 658 foll.
Footnote 1313:
Paganicae (feriae), Varro, _L. L._ 6. 26. Varro seems to separate the
two: after mentioning the Sementinae, which he says was ‘sationis
causa susceptae,’ he goes on ‘Paganicae eiusdem agriculturae
susceptae, ut haberent in agris omnes pagi,’ &c. But the distinction
is perhaps only of place; or if of time also, yet not of object and
meaning.
Footnote 1314:
So Marq. 199, and Hartmann, _Röm. Kal._ 203. Preller thinks the
Sementinae were in September, before the autumn sowing; and it is
possible that there were two feasts of the name, one before the
autumn, another before the spring, sowing. Lydus (_de Mens._ 3. 3)
speaks of two days separated by seven others; on the former they
sacrificed to Tellus (Demeter), on the latter to Ceres (Κόρη); two
successive nundinae (market-days) are here meant.
Footnote 1315:
Cp. Scholiast on Persius, 4. 28; and see under Compitalia, Jan. 3-5.
Footnote 1316:
Ovid, 1. 661.
Footnote 1317:
_R. R._ 1. 34; Plin. _N. H._ 18. 204.
Footnote 1318:
Cp. Varro, _R. R._ 1. 29, 36. Cp. the Rustic Calendars for February.
Footnote 1319:
Varro, _L. L._ 6. 26 ‘sationis causa’; and Lydus says that the feast
could not be ‘stativae,’ because the ἀρχὴ σπόρου cannot be fixed to a
day. Lydus’ reason is not a good one, if the sowing did not begin till
Feb. 7; but it is plain that he understands the rites as
_prophylactic_. I may note that Columella seems to know little about
spring sowing (II. 2: cp. 2. 8). Mommsen, _R. H._ ii. 364, says that
spring sowing was exceptional.
Footnote 1320:
See under Cerialia, April 19.
Footnote 1321:
Ad Virg. _Georg._ 2. 385; Marq. 200 and 192, where the old explanation
(Macr. 1. 7. 34) seems to be adopted, that these were substitutes for
human or other victims (cp. Bötticher, _Baumkultus_, 80 foll.). We
have no clear evidence for this, and I am not disposed to accept it.
Footnote 1322:
2. 42. So Plut. _Coriol._ 3.
Footnote 1323:
Momms. _C. I. L._ 1. 308; Jordan, _Eph. Ep._ 1. 236; Aust, _de Aedibus
sacris_, 43.
Footnote 1324:
Dion. Hal. 6. 13; Liv. 2. 20.
Footnote 1325:
Suetonius, _Tib._ 20; Aust, op. cit. p. 6.
Footnote 1326:
Weight must, however, be given to the fact that the transvectio
equitum took place on July 15. Aust, 43, and Furtwängler in _Lex._ s.
v. Dioscuri.
Footnote 1327:
Middleton, _Ancient Rome_, p. 174; Lanciani, _Ruins and Excavations of
Ancient Rome_, p. 271 foll.
Footnote 1328:
Mommsen, _Münzwesen_, 301, 559.
Footnote 1329:
Pydna, Cic. _N. D._ 3. 5. II; Verona (101 B.C.), Plut. _Mar._ 26. The
most famous application of the story is in the accounts of the great
fight between Locri and Kroton at the river Sagra: this was probably
the origin of the Italian legends. See Preller, ii. 301.
Footnote 1330:
Albert, _le Culte de Castor et Pollux en Italie_, 1883. Cp.
Furtwängler, l. c.
MENSIS FEBRUARIUS
The name of the last month of the old Roman year is derived from
the word _februum_, usually understood as an instrument of
purification[1331]. This word, and its derivatives were, as we
shall see, best known in connexion with the Lupercalia, the most
prominent of the festivals of the month. Now the ritual of the
Lupercalia seems to suggest that our word ‘purification’ does not
cover all the ground occupied by the ‘religio’ of that festival;
nor does it precisely suit some of the other rites of February. We
are indeed here on difficult and dangerous ground. Certainly we
must not assume that there was any general lustration of the whole
people, or any period corresponding in religious intent to the
Christian Lent, which in time only is descended from the Roman
February. Assuredly there were no such ideas as penitence or
forgiveness of sins involved in the ritual of the month. Let so
much be said for the benefit of those who are only acquainted with
Jewish or Christian history.
What at least is certain is that at this time the character of the
festivals changes. Since the middle of December we have had a series of
joyful gatherings of an agricultural people in homestead, market-place,
cross-roads; now we find them fulfilling their duties to their dead
ancestors at the common necropolis, or engaged in a mysterious piacular
rite under the walls of the oldest Rome. The Parentalia and the
Lupercalia are the characteristic rites of February; we shall see later
on whether any of the others can be brought into the same category. If
pleasure is the object of the mid-winter festivals, the fulfilment of
duties towards the gods and the _manes_ would seem to be that of the
succeeding period.
From an agricultural point of view February was a somewhat busy month;
but in the time of Varro the work was chiefly the preparatory operations
in the culture of olives, vines and fruit-trees[1332]. The one great
operation in the oldest and simplest agricultural system was the spring
sowing. Spring was understood to begin on Feb. 7 (Favonius)[1333], and
it is precisely at this point that the rites change their character. We
are in fact close upon the new year, when the powers of vegetation awake
and put on strength; but the Romans approached it as it were with
hesitation, preparing for it carefully by steady devotion to work and
duty, the whole community endeavouring to place itself in a proper
position toward the _numina_ of the land’s fertility, and the dead
reposing in the land’s embrace.
Before taking the rites one by one, it will perhaps be as well to say a
word in general about the nature of Roman expiatory rites, in order to
determine in what sense we are to understand those of February.
The first point to notice is that these rites were applicable only to
_involuntary_ acts of commission or omission—an offence against the gods
(nefas) if wittingly committed, was inexpiable. In this case the
offender was _impius_, i. e. had wilfully failed in his duty; and him no
rites could absolve[1334]. But by ordinary offences against the gods we
are not to understand _sin_, in the Christian sense of the word; they
were rather mistakes in ritual, or involuntary omissions—in fact any
real or supposed or possible errors in any of a man’s relations to the
_numina_ around him. He might always be putting himself in the wrong in
regard to these relations, and he must as sedulously endeavour to right
himself. In the life of the ‘privatus’ these trespasses in sacred law
would chiefly be in matters of marriages and funerals and the regular
sacrifices of the household; in the life of the magistrate they would be
mistakes or omissions in his duties on behalf of the State[1335].
Whether in private or public life, they must be duly expiated. It is
needless to point out how powerful a factor this belief must have been
in the growth of a conscience and of the sense of duty; or how stringent
a ‘religio’ was that which, assuming that a man could hardly commit an
offence except unwittingly, made the possible exceptional case fatal to
his position as a member of a community which depended for its wholesome
existence on the good will of the gods.
Remembering that among the divine beings to whom it was most essential
for each family to fulfil its duties, were the _di manes_, or dead
ancestors and members of the family, we see at once that February with
its Parentalia was an important month in the matter of expiatory rites.
Ovid, though suggesting a fancy derivation for the name of the month,
expresses this idea clearly enough:
Aut quia _placatis_ sunt tempora pura sepulcris
Tum cum ferales praeteriere dies[1336].
But the other etymology given by the poet is, as we have seen, the right
one, and may bring us to another class of _piacula_, of which we find an
example this month in the Lupercalia.
Mensis ab his dictus, secta quia pelle Luperci
Omne solum lustrant, idque piamen habent[1337].
Not only was the Roman most careful to expiate involuntary offences, and
also to appease the wrath of the gods, if shown in any special active
way, e.g. by lightning and many other prodigia[1338], but he also sought
to avert evil influences _before-hand_, which might possibly emanate
from hostile or offended _numina_. This religious object is well
illustrated in the sacrifice of the _hostia praecidanea_, which was
offered beforehand to make up for any involuntary errors in the ritual
that followed[1339]. But it is also seen in numerous other rites of
which we have had many examples; all those, for instance, which included
a _lustratio_. We generally translate this word by ‘purification’; but
it also involves the ideas of intercession, and of the removal of unseen
hostile influences which may be likely to interfere with the health and
prosperity of man, beast, or crop. At such rites special victims were
sometimes offered, or the victim was treated in a peculiar manner; we
find, perhaps, some part of it used as a charm or potent spell, as the
strips of skin at the Lupercalia, or the ashes of the unborn calves at
the Fordicidia, or the tail and blood of the October horse[1340]. To the
first of these, at least, if not to the other two, the word _februum_
was applied, and we may assume it of the others: also to many other
objects which had some magical power, and carry us back to a very remote
religious antiquity. Ovid gives a catalogue of them[1341]:
Februa Romani dixere piamina patres,
Nunc quoque dant verbo plurima signa fidem.
Pontifices ab rege petunt et flamine _lanas_,
Quis veterum lingua februa nomen erat.
Quaeque capit lictor domibus purgamina †ternis†[1342]
Torrida cum mica farra, vocantur idem.
Nomen idem _ramo_, qui caesus ab arbore pura
Casta sacerdotum tempora fronde tegit.
Ipse ego flaminicam poscentem februa vidi:
Februa poscenti _pinea virga_ data est.
Denique quodcunque est, quo corpora nostra piantur,
Hoc apud intonsos nomen habebat avos.
Objects such as these, called by a name which is explained by _piamen_,
or _purgamentum_, must have been understood as charms potent to keep off
evil influences, and so to enable nature to take its ordinary course
unhindered. Only in this sense can we call them instruments of
_purification_.
The use of the _februa_ in the Lupercalia was, as we shall see, to
procure fertility in the women of the community. Here then, as well as
in the rites of the Fornacalia and Parentalia, is some reason for
calling the month a period of purification; but only if we bear in mind
that at the Parentalia the process consisted simply in the performance
of duties towards the dead, which freed or purified a man from their
possible hostility; while at the Lupercalia the women were freed or
purified from influences which might hinder them in the fulfilment of
their natural duties to their families and the State. Beyond this it is
not safe to go in thinking of February as a month of expiation.
KAL. FEB. IUNONI SOSPITAE. N.
This was the dedication-day of a temple of the great Lanuvian goddess,
Juno Sospita, in the Forum olitorium[1343]. It was vowed in the year 197
B.C. by the consul Cornelius Cethegus, but had fallen into decay in
Ovid’s time[1344]. For the famous cult of this deity at Lanuvium, see
Roscher, in _Lex._ s. v. Iuno, 595.
ID. FEB. FAUNO [I]N INSUL[A]. _C. I. L._ vi. 2302. NP.
This temple was vowed almost at the same time as the last, 296 B.C., by
plebeian aediles; it was built by fines exacted from holders of ager
publicus who had not paid their rents[1345]. See under Dec. 5, p. 257.
FORNICALIA: FERIAE CONCEPTIVAE, ending Feb. 17.
I have drawn attention to the change in the character of the festivals
at this season. But before we go on to the Parentalia and Lupercalia,
which chiefly mark this change, we have to consider one festival which
seems to belong rather to the class which we found in December and
January. This was the Fornacalia, or feast of ovens; one which does not
appear in the calendars, as it was a moveable feast (conceptivae); and
one which was a _sacrum publicum_ only in the sense of being pro curiis,
as the Paganalia were pro pagis, the Septimontium pro montibus, and the
Argean rite pro sacellis[1346]. Each curia conducted its own rites,
under the supervision of its curio and (for the last day) of the Curio
Maximus[1347]: the great priests of the State had no official part in
it. In this it differs in some degree from the Fordicidia (April 15),
the other feast of the curiae, which appears in three of our calendars,
and in which the Pontifices and Vestals took some part[1348].
This is not the place to investigate the difficult question of what the
_curiae_ really were. So much at least is clear, that while, like the
montes, pagi, and sacella (argea), they were divisions of the people and
the land, they were more important than the others, in that they formed
the basis of the earliest political and military organization[1349]. It
need hardly be said that each curia had also itself a religious
organization: their places of assembly, though not temples, were
quasi-religious buildings[1350], used for sacred purposes, but furnished
with hearth and eating-room like an ordinary house[1351]. We hear also
of tables (mensae, τράπεσαι) ‘in quibus immolabatur Iunoni quae Curis
appellata est[1352].’ There is no need to assume any etymological
connexion between Cŭris and Cūria[1353]; but the cult of the goddess of
the spear is interesting here, as seeming at once to illustrate the
military importance of the curiae, the power of the paterfamilias[1354],
and the necessity of continuing the family through the fertility of
woman, an idea which we shall come upon again at the Lupercalia[1355].
Lastly, each curia had its own curio, or religious superintendent, and
its own flamen, and at the head of all the curiae was the Curio Maximus;
officers who coincide with the general character of the curiae in being
(like the heads of families) not strictly priests, but capable of
religious duties, for the performance of which they are said to have
been instituted[1356].
The ritual of the Fornacalia has been evolved with difficulty, and
without much certainty, from a few passages in Ovid, Dionysius, Varro,
Festus, and Pliny[1357]. We seem to see—1. An offering in each private
house in each curia: it consisted of _far_, i. e. meal of the oldest
kind of Italian wheat, roasted in antique fashion in the oven which was
to be found in the _pistrina_ of each house, and made into cakes by
crushing in the manner still common in India and elsewhere[1358]. 2. A
rite in which each curia took part as a whole. This is deduced from the
fact that on the 17th (Quirinalia) any one who by forgetfulness or
ignorance had omitted to perform his sacra on the day fixed by the curio
for the meeting of his own curia, might do so then at a general assembly
of all the thirty curiae[1359]. This was the reason why the Quirinalia
was called ‘stultorum feriae.’ It has also been conjectured that the
bounds of each curia were beaten on this day, on which its members thus
met: for Pliny says ‘Numa et Fornacalia instituit farris torrendi ferias
_et aeque religiosas terminis agrorum_[1360].’ 3. What happened on the
Quirinalia Ovid shall tell us himself[1361]:
Curio legitimis nunc Fornacalia verbis
Maximus indicit, nec stata sacra facit;
Inque foro, multa circum pendente tabella,
Signatur certa curia quaeque nota:
Stultaque pars populi, quae sit sua curia, nescit,
Sed facit extrema sacra relata die.
It should be noted that no certain connexion can be made out between
Quirinus and curia, and I imagine it was only accident or convenience
that made this day the last of the Fornacalia[1362]. Ovid’s words ‘nec
stata sacra facit’ seem to me to imply that the Curio Maximus carefully
abstained from using a formula of announcement likely to confuse the
‘stultorum feriae’ with the Quirinalia, which was always on the same
day. But it may well have been the case that by usage the two coincided.
Ovid’s lines make it clear that on the 17th (as a rule) the Forum was
the scene of a general meeting of curiae, each of which had a certain
space assigned it, indicated by a placard. Is it possible that this was
merely a survival of the assembly of the armed host in comitia curiata,
now used only for religious purposes? If so, the tendency to fix it on
the festival of Quirinus might find a natural explanation.
The meaning and object of the Fornacalia are very far from being clear.
Preller[1363] fancied it was the occasion of the first eating of the
fruits of the last harvest: but it is hardly possible to imagine this
postponed as late as February. On the other hand Dionysius’
description[1364], already quoted, of what he saw in the curiae, would
suit this well enough if it could be set down to a suitable time of
year: it suggests a common meal, in which the first fruits are offered
to the god, while the worshippers eat of the new grain. But this cannot
have been in February. Steuding (in the _Lex._) suggests that the object
was to thank the gods for preserving the corn through the winter, and to
pray for the welfare of the seed still in the ground (i. e. in a
lustratio). Ovid says (though Steuding does not quote him)
Facta dea est Fornax: laeti Fornace coloni
Orant, ut fruges temperet illa suas[1365].
But neither Steuding’s conjecture, nor the German parallels he appeals
to, seem convincing. I am rather inclined to think that the making of
cakes in each household was simply a preliminary to the _sacra_ that
followed in the curia, i. e. each family brought its contribution to a
common religious meal. The roasting was naturally accompanied by an
offering to the spirit of the oven[1366] (fornax); hence the name
Fornacalia. The object of the sacra in the curia is doubtful; but they
probably had some relation to the land and its fertility, in view of the
new year about to begin. Of the final meeting of all the curiae in the
forum I have already suggested an explanation: the phrase ‘stultorum
feriae’ was, in my opinion, of late origin, and illustrates the
diminishing importance of the curiate organization after the admission
of plebeians[1367].
ID. FEB. (FEB. 13). NP.
VIRGO VESTALIS PARENTAT. (PHIL.)
PARENTATIO TUMULORUM INCIPIT. (SILV.)
The _dies parentales_, or days of worshipping the dead (placandis
Manibus), began at the sixth hour on this day, and continued either to
the 21st (Feralia), or the 22nd (cara cognatio)[1368]. The parentatio of
the Vestal was at the tomb of Tarpeia, herself a Vestal[1369].
Undoubtedly, the Feralia (21st) was the oldest and the best known of
these days, and the only one which was a public festival: it appears in
three calendars (Caer. Maff. Farn.) in large letters. Yet there is
reason for believing that even the Feralia was not the oldest day for
worshipping the manes: it was in part at least a dies fastus, and none
of the dies parentales are marked N in the calendars; and this,
according to Mommsen[1370], shows that the rites of those days were of
later origin than those of the Lemuria (May 9-13), which are all marked
N. This seems also to have been the opinion of Latin scholars[1371].
Whatever the Lemuria may have been, it is certain that the Parentalia
were not days of terror or ill-omen; but rather days on which the
performance of duty was the leading idea in men’s minds. Nor was the
duty an unpleasant one. There was a general holiday: the dead to be
propitiated had been duly buried in the family tomb in the great
necropolis, had been well cared for since their departure, and were
still members of the family. There was nothing to fear from them, so
long as the living members performed their duties towards them under the
supervision of the State and its Pontifices[1372]. They had their
_iura_, and the relations between them and their living relations were
all regulated by a _ius sacrum_: they lived on in their city outside the
walls of the city of the living[1373], each family in their own
dwelling: they did not interfere with the comfort of the living, or in
any way show themselves hostile or spiteful. Such ideas as these are of
course the result of a well developed city life; experience has taught
the citizen how his conduct towards the Di Manes can best be regulated
and organized for the benefit of both parties. The Parentalia belong to
a later stage of development than the Lemuria, though both have the same
original basis of thought. The Parentalia was practically a yearly
renewal of the rite of burial. As _sacra privata _they took place on the
anniversary of the death of a deceased member of the family, and it was
a special charge on the heir that he should keep up their
observance[1374]. On that day the family would go in procession to the
grave, not only to see that all was well with him who abode there, but
to present him with offerings of water, wine, milk, honey, oil, and the
blood of black victims[1375]: to deck the tomb with flowers[1376], to
utter once more the solemn greeting and farewell (Salve, sancte parens),
to partake of a meal with the dead, and to petition them for good
fortune and all things needful. This last point comes out clearly in
Virgil’s picture:
Poscamus ventos, atque haec me sacra quotannis
Urbe velit posita templis sibi ferre dicatis.
The true meaning of these lines is, as Henry quaintly puts it[1377],
‘Let us try if we cannot kill two birds with one stone, and not only pay
my sire the honours due to him, but at the same time help ourselves
forward on our journey by getting him to give us fair winds for our
voyage.’
As we have seen, the dies parentales began on the 13th; from that day
till the 21st all temples were closed, marriages were forbidden, and
magistrates appeared without their insignia[1378]. On the 22nd was the
family festival of the _Caristia_, or _cara cognatio_: the date of its
origin is unknown, but Ovid[1379] writes of it as well established in
his time, and it may be very much older. He describes it as a reunion of
the living members of the family after they have paid their duties to
the dead:
Scilicet a tumulis et qui periere, propinquis
Protinus ad vivos ora referre iuvat;
Postque tot amissos quicquid de sanguine restat,
Aspicere, et generis dinumerare gradus.
It was a kind of love-feast of the family, and gives a momentary glimpse
of the gentler side of Roman family life. All quarrels were to be
forgotten[1380] in a general harmony: no guilty or cruel member may be
present[1381]. The centre of the worship was the Lares of the family,
who were ‘incincti,’ and shared in the sacred meal[1382].
We might naturally expect that, especially in Italy—so tenacious of old
ideas and superstitions—we should find some survival of primitive
folk-lore, even in the midst of this highly organized civic cult of the
dead. Ovid supplies us with a curious contrast to the ethical beauty of
the Caristia, in describing the spells which an old woman works,
apparently on the day of the Feralia[1383]. ‘An old hag sitting among
the girls performs rites to Tacita: with three fingers she places three
bits of incense at the entrance of a mouse-hole. Muttering a spell, she
weaves woollen threads on a web of dark colour, and mumbles seven black
beans in her mouth. Then she takes a fish, the _maena_, smears its head
with pitch, sews its mouth up, drops wine upon it, and roasts it before
the fire: the rest of the wine she drinks with the girls. Now, quoth
she, we have bound the mouth of the enemy:
Hostiles linguas inimicaque vinximus ora,
Dicit discedens, ebriaque exit anus.’
In spite of the names of deities we find here, Tacita and Dea
Muta[1384], and of the pretty story of the mother of the Lares which the
poet’s fancy has added to it, it is plain that this is no more than one
of a thousand savage spells for counteracting hostile spirits[1385]. The
picture is interesting, as showing the survival of witchcraft in the
civilized Rome of Ovid’s time, and reminds us of the horrible hags in
Horace’s fifth epode; but it may be doubted whether it has any real
connexion with the Feralia. Doubtless its parallel could be found even
in the Italy of today[1386].
XV. KAL. MART. (FEB. 15). NP.
LUPER(CALIA). (CAER. MAFF. FARN. PHILOC. SILV. AND RUSTIC CALENDARS.)
There is hardly another festival in the calendar so interesting and so
well known as this. Owing to the singular interest attaching to its
celebration in B.C. 44, only a month before Caesar’s death, we are
unusually well informed as to its details; but these present great
difficulties in interpretation, which the latest research has not
altogether overcome[1387]. I shall content myself with describing it,
and pointing out such explanations of ritual as seem to be fairly well
established.
On Feb. 15 the celebrants of this ancient rite met at the cave called
the Lupercal, at the foot of the steep south-western corner of the
Palatine Hill—the spot where, according to the tradition, the flooded
Tiber had deposited the twin children at the foot of the sacred
fig-tree[1388], and where they were nourished by the she-wolf. The name
of the cave is almost without doubt built up from _lupus_, ‘a
wolf’[1389]; but we cannot be equally sure whether the name of the
festival is derived directly from Lupercal, or on the analogy of
Quirinalia, Volcanalia, and others, from Lupercus, the alleged name of
the deity concerned in the rites, and also of the celebrants
themselves[1390]. In any case we are fairly justified in calling this
the wolf-festival; the more so as the wolf was the sacred animal of
Mars, who was in a special sense the god of the earliest settlers on the
Palatine[1391].
The first act of the festival seems to have been the sacrifice of goats
(we are not told how many), and of a dog[1392]; and at the same time
were offered sacred cakes made by the Vestals, from the first ears of
last year’s harvest. This was the last batch of the _mola salsa_, some
of which had been used at the Vestalia in June, and some on the Ides of
September[1393].
Next, two youths of high rank, belonging, we may suppose, one to each of
the two collegia of Luperci (of which more directly), were brought
forward; these had their foreheads smeared with the knife bloody from
the slaughter of the victims, and then wiped with wool dipped in milk.
As soon as this was done they were obliged to laugh. Then they girt
themselves with the skins of the slaughtered goats, and feasted
luxuriously[1394]; after which they ran round the base of the Palatine
Hill, or at least a large part of its circuit, apparently in two
companies, one led by each of the two youths. As they ran they struck at
all the women who came near them or offered themselves to their blows,
with strips of skin cut from the hides of the same victims; which
strips, as we have seen, were among the objects which were called by the
priests _februa_.
Here, in what at first sight looks like a grotesque jumble, there are
two clearly distinguishable elements; (1) an extremely primitive ritual,
probably descended from the pastoral stage of society; (2) a certain
co-ordination of this with definite local settlements. The sacrifices,
the smearing and wiping, the wearing of the skins, and the striking with
the _februa_, all seem to be survivals from a very early stage of
religious conceptions; but the two companies of runners, and their
course round the Palatine, which apparently followed the most ancient
line of the pomoerium, bring us into touch with the beginning and with
the development of urban life. Surviving through the whole Republican
period, with a tenacity which the Roman talent for organization alone
could give it, the Lupercalia was still further developed for his own
purposes by the dictator Caesar, and thenceforward lived on for
centuries under his successors into the age of imperial Christianity.
Let us now examine the several acts of the festival, to see how far they
admit of explanation under the light of modern research into primitive
ideas and ritual.
It began, as we saw, with the sacrifice of goats and a dog. Unluckily we
cannot be sure of the god to whom they were offered, nor of the
sacrificing priest. According to Ovid[1395] the deity was Faunus;
according to Livy it was a certain mysterious Inuus, of whom hardly
anything else is known[1396], though much has been written. There was no
Lupercus, as some have vainly imagined; much less any such combination
as Faunus Lupercus, which has been needlessly created out of a passage
of Justin[1397]. Liber is suggested by Servius[1398]; who adds that
others fancied it was a ‘bellicosus deus.’ Recently Juno has been
suggested, because the strips which the runners carried were called
‘Iunonis amiculum’[1399]. Thus it is quite plain that the Roman of the
literary age did not know who the god was. The common idea that he was
Faunus is discredited by Livy’s account and his mention of Inuus, and
also by the fact that Faunus is not associated with urban settlements:
and may easily be accounted for by the myth of Evander and the
Arcadians, whose Pan Lycaeus was of course identified with Faunus[1400],
or by the girding of the Luperci with skins, which made them resemble
the popular conception of the Fauni[1401]. Possibly the name was a
secret; for there was a tendency to avoid fixing a god’s name in ritual,
in order to escape making mistakes, and so offending him. ‘Iure
pontificum cautum est ne suis nominibus dii Romani appellarentur, ne
exaugurari possint[1402].’ We must also remember that the Lupercalia
undoubtedly descends from the very earliest period of the Roman
religion, when the individuality of deities was not clearly conceived,
and when their names were unknown, doubtful, or adjectival only. In
fact, we need not greatly trouble ourselves about the name of the god:
his nature is deducible to some extent from the ritual. The connexion
with the Palatine, with the wolf, and with fructification, seems to me
to point very clearly in the direction of Mars and his characteristics.
It would be almost more profitable if we could be sure of the
sacrificing priest; but here again we are in the dark. Ovid says,
‘Flamen ad haec prisco more Dialis erat[1403]‘; but it is impossible
that this priest could have been the sacrificer (though Marquardt
committed himself to this), for he was expressly forbidden to touch
either goat or dog[1404], which seem to have been excluded from the cult
of Jupiter. Even in the case of such exceptional _piacula_ as this no
doubt was, we can hardly venture without further evidence to ascribe the
slaughter of the sacred animal to the great priest of the heavenly deity
in whose cult it was tabooed. Plutarch says that the Luperci themselves
sacrificed[1405]; and this is more probable, and is borne out by
comparison with other cases in which the priest clothes himself, as the
Luperci did, in the skin of the victim. It does not indeed seem certain
that the two youths who thus girt themselves had also performed the
sacrifice; but they represent the two collegia of Luperci, and lead the
race[1406], as Romulus and Remus did in the explanatory legend.
As regards the victims, there is here at least no doubt that both goat
and dog were exceptional animals in sacrifice[1407], and that their use
here betokens a piacular rite of unusual ‘holiness.’ Thus their offering
is a mystic sacrifice, and belongs to that ‘small class of exceptional
rites in which the victim was drawn from some species of animals that
retained even in modern times their ancient repute of natural
holiness[1408].’ It is exactly in this kind of sacrifice that we find
such peculiar points of ritual as meet us in the Lupercalia. ‘The victim
is sacrosanct, and the peculiar value of the ceremony lies in the
operation performed on its life, whether that life is merely conveyed to
the god on the altar (i. e. as in burnt-sacrifices) or is also applied
to the worshippers by the sprinkling of the blood, or some other lustral
ceremony[1409].’ The writer might very well have been thinking of the
Lupercalia when he wrote these lines. The meaning of these rites was
originally, as he states it, that the holiness of the victim means
kinship to the worshippers and their god, ‘that all sacred relations and
all moral obligations depend on physical unity of life, and that
physical unity of life can be created or reinforced by common
participation in living flesh and blood.’ We may postpone consideration
of this view as applied to the Lupercalia till we have examined the
remaining features of the ceremony.
After the sacrifice was completed, Plutarch[1410] tells us that the
foreheads of the two youths were touched with the bloody knife that had
slain the victims, and the stain was then wiped off with wool dipped in
milk, after which the youths had to laugh. This has often been supposed
to indicate an original human sacrifice[1411], the he-goats being
substituted for human victims, and the death of the latter symbolized by
the smearing with their blood. This explanation might be admissible if
this were the only feature of the ceremony; but it is so entirely out of
keeping with those that follow—the wearing of the skins and the
running—that it is preferable to look for another before adopting it. At
the same time it may be observed that no reasonable hypothesis can be
ruled out of court where our knowledge of the rite is so meagre and so
hard to bring satisfactorily into harmony with others occurring among
other peoples[1412].
There is a curious passage in Apollonius Rhodius[1413], where
purification from a murder is effected by smearing the hands of the
murderer with the blood of a young pig, and then wiping it off ἄλλοις
χύτλοισι; and the Scholiast on the lines describes a somewhat similar
method of purification which was practised in Greece. This would raise a
presumption that the youths were not originally the victims at the
Lupercalia, but rather the slayers; and that they had to be purified
from the guilt of the blood of the sacrosanct victim[1414]. When this
was done they became one with the victim and the god by the girding on
of the skins, and were able to communicate the new life thus acquired in
the course of their lustratio of the city by means of the strips of skin
to the women who met them. This explanation is open to one or two
objections; for example, it hardly accounts for the laughter of the
youths, unless we are to suppose that it was an expression of joy at
their release from blood-guiltiness[1415]. And we have indeed no direct
evidence that the youths were ever themselves the sacrificers, though
the collateral evidence on this point, as I have already said, seems to
be fairly strong[1416]. Yet I cannot but think that the true
significance of the essential features of the ceremony is to be looked
for somewhere in the direction thus indicated.
There is, however, another explanation of the application of the bloody
knife, the wiping, and the laughing, which Mannhardt proposed, not
without some modest hesitation, in his posthumous work[1417]. In his
view these were symbolic or quasi-dramatic acts, signifying death and
renewed life. The youths were never actually killed, but they were the
figures in a kind of acted parable. The smearing with blood denoted that
they partook of the death of the victim[1418]; the wiping with milky
wool signified the revival to a new life, for milk is the source of
life. The laughing is the outward sign of such revival: the dead are
silent, cannot laugh[1419]. And the meaning of all this was the death
and the revival of the Vegetation-spirit. I have already more than once
profited by Mannhardt’s researches into this type of European custom,
and they are now familiar to Englishmen in the works of Mr. Frazer, Mr.
Farnell, and others. Undoubtedly there are many bits of grotesque custom
which can best be explained if we suppose them to mean the death of the
Power of growth at harvest-time, or its resuscitation in the spring,
perhaps after the death of the powers of winter and darkness. But
whether the Lupercalia is one of these I cannot be so sure. These rites
do not seem to have any obvious reference to _crops_, but rather to have
come down from the pastoral stage of society: and it is not in this case
the _fields_ which are lustrated by the runners, but the _urbs_ and its
women[1420]. And the earlier parts of the ritual bear the marks of a
_piaculum_ so distinctly that it seems unnecessary and confusing to
introduce into it a different set of ideas.
There is a similar divergence of opinion in explaining the next feature,
the wearing of the skins of the victims[1421]. Dr. Mannhardt believed
that this was one of the innumerable instances in which, at certain
times of the year, animals are personated by human beings, e. g. at
Christmas, at the beginning of Lent (Carnival), and at harvest. These he
explained as representations of the Vegetation-spirit, which was
conceived to be dead in winter, to come to life in spring, and at
harvest to die again, and which was believed to assume all kinds of
animal forms. This has been generally accepted as explaining several
curious rites both in Greece and Italy, e. g. that of the Hirpi Sorani
at Soracte not far from Rome[1422]. But it is a question whether it will
equally well explain the Luperci and their goat-skins. In this case
Mannhardt is driven to somewhat far-fetched hypotheses; he derives
Lupercus from _lupus-hircus_[1423] (p. 90), and suggests that the two
collegia represented respectively wolves and goats, according to the
view of the Vegetation-spirit taken by the two communities of Palatine
and Quirinal[1424]. But this solution, the result of a bias in favour of
his favourite Vegetation-spirit, does not strike us as happy, and Dr.
Mannhardt himself does not seem well pleased with it[1425].
It would seem safer to take this as one of the many well-known _piacula_
in which the worshipper wears the skin of a very holy victim, thereby
entering sacramentally into the very nature of the god to whom the
victim is sacrificed[1426]. Whether or no we are to look for the origin
of these practices in a totemistic age, is a question that cannot be
discussed here; and there is no sign of totemism in the Lupercalia save
this one[1427].
But if this be the right explanation, what, we may ask, was meant by the
name Luperci? If it meant wolves, are we not rather thrown back on
Mannhardt’s theory? To this it may be answered; (1) that no classical
author suggests that the runners were looked upon as representing
wolves; by the common people we are told that they were called
_creppi_[1428], the meaning of which is quite uncertain, though it has
been explained as = _capri_, and as simply arising from the fact that
the runners were clad in goat-skins[1429]. There is in fact no necessary
connexion at all between the skins and the name Luperci. If that name
originally meant wolf-priests, its explanation is to be found rather in
connexion with the wolf of Mars, and the cave of the she-wolf, than in
the skins of the sacrificed goats, which were worn by only two members
of the two collegia bearing the name.
We must now turn our attention to the last features of the festival; the
course taken by the runners round the Palatine Hill, and the whipping of
women with the strips of sacred skin. The two youths, having girded on
the skins (though otherwise naked) and also cut strips from them,
proceeded to run a course which seems almost certainly to have followed
that of the pomoerium at the foot of the Palatine. The starting-point
was the Lupercal, or a point near it, and Tacitus[1430] has described
the course of the pomoerium as far as the ‘sacellum Larum forumque
Romanum’: in his day it was marked out by stones (‘cippi’). We are
concerned with it here only so far as it affects the question whether
the running was a _lustratio_ of the Palatine city. The last points
mentioned by Tacitus, the ‘sacellum Larum, forumque Romanum[1431],’ show
plainly that the course was round the Palatine from south-west to
north-east, but they do not bring the runners back to the point from
which they started, and complete the circle[1432]. Varro is, however,
quite clear that the running was a _lustratio_: ‘Lupercis nudis
lustratur antiquum oppidum Palatinum gregibus humanis cinctum.’ The
passage is obscure, and attempts have been made to amend it; but there
can be no doubt that it points to a religious ceremony[1433].
This lustratio, then, as we may safely call it, was at the same time a
beating of the bounds and a rite of purification and fertilization. Just
as the peeled wands of our Oxford bound-beaters on Ascension Day[1434]
may perhaps have originally had a use parallel to that of the _februa_,
so the parish boundaries correspond to the Roman pomoerium. We have
already had examples of processional bound-beating in the rites of the
Argei and the Ambarvalia; in all there is the same double object—the
combination of a religious with a juristic act; but the Lupercalia
stands alone in the quaintness of its ritual, and may probably be the
oldest of all.
Before we go on to the _februa_ and their use, mention must be made of a
difficulty in regard to the duality of the collegia of Luperci and the
runners. These have been supposed to have originated from two gentile
priesthoods of the Fabii and Quinctii[1435]; and as we know that the
gens Fabia had a cult on the Quirinal[1436], it is conjectured that the
Luperci Fabiani represented the Sabine city, and the Quinctiales the
Romans of the Palatine, just as we also find two collegia of Salii, viz.
Palatini and Collini[1437]. If, however, the running of the Luperci was
really a lustratio of the Palatine, we must suppose that the lustratio
of the Quirinal city by its own Luperci was given up and merged in that
of the older settlement[1438]; and such an abandonment of a local rite
would be most surprising in Roman antiquity. It is true that there is no
other explanation of the existence of the two guilds; but we may
hesitate to accept this one, if we have to pay for it by so bold a
hypothesis[1439].
The last point to be noticed, the whipping with the strips of
skin[1440], might have attracted little notice as a relic of antiquity
in the late Republic but for the famous incident in the life of Caesar,
when Antonius was one of the runners. We have it on excellent evidence,
not only that the runners struck women who met them with the strips, but
that they did so in order to produce fertility[1441]. Such an
explanation of the object would hardly have been invented, and it
tallies closely with some at least of a great number of practices of the
kind which have been investigated by Mannhardt[1442]. His parallel are
not indeed all either complete or convincing; but the collection is
valuable for many purposes, and the general result is to show that
whipping certain parts of the body with some instrument supposed to
possess magic power is efficacious in driving away the powers of evil
that interfere with fertilization. Whether the thing beaten be man,
woman, image, or human or animal representative of the Vegetation
spirit, the object is always more or less directly to quicken or restore
the natural powers of reproduction; the notion being that the hostile or
hindering spirit was thus driven out, or that the beating actually woke
up and energized the power. The latter is perhaps a later idea,
rationalized from the earlier. In any case the thongs, as part of the
sacrosanct victim, were supposed to possess a special magical
power[1443]; and the word applied to them, _februa_, though not meaning
strictly instruments of purification in our sense of the word, may be
translated _cathartic_ objects, since they had power to free from
hostile influences and quicken natural forces. And those who wielded
them were regarded in some at least as priests or magicians; they were
naked but for the goat-skins, and probably had wreaths on their
heads[1444]. Their wild and lascivious behaviour as they ran is
paralleled in many ceremonies of the kind[1445].
It is singular that a festival of a character so rude and rustic should
have lived on in the great city for centuries after it had become
cosmopolitan and even Christian. This is one of the many results due to
the religious enterprise of Augustus, who rebuilt the decayed Lupercal,
and set the feast on a new footing[1446]. It continued to exist down to
the year 494 A.D. when the Pope, Gelasius I, changed the day (Feb. 15)
to that of the Purification of the Virgin Mary[1447].
XIII KAL. MART. (Feb. 17). NP.
QUIR[INALIA]. (CAER. MAFF. FARN. PHILOC.)
QUIRINO IN COLLE. (FARN. CAER.)
How the festival of Quirinus came to be placed at this time I cannot
explain: we know nothing of it, and cannot assume that it was of an
expiatory character, like the Lupercalia preceding it, and the Feralia
following. Of the temple ‘in colle’ we also know nothing[1448] that can
help us. We have already learnt that this day was called ‘stultorum
feriae,’ and why; but the conjunction of the last day of the sacra of
the curiae with those of Quirinus is probably accidental; we cannot
safely assume any connexion through the word ‘curia.’ The name
Quirinalia was familiar enough[1449]; but it may be that it only
survived through the _stultorum feriae_.
The Roman of the later Republic identified Quirinus with Romulus;
Virgil, e. g. in the first _Aeneid_ (292) speaks of ‘Remo cum fratre
Quirinus[1450].’ We have no clue to the origin of this identification.
It may have been suggested by the use of the name Quirites; but neither
do we know when or why that name came to signify the Roman people in
their civil capacity, and the etymology of these words and their
relation to each other still entirely baffles research[1451].
There is, however, a general agreement that Quirinus was another form
of Mars, having his abode on the hill which still goes by his name.
That Mars and Quirinus were ever the same deities was indeed denied by
so acute an inquirer as Ambrosch[1452]; but he denied it partly on the
ground that no trace of the worship of Mars had been found on the
Quirinal; and since his time two inscriptions have been found there on
the same spot, one at least of great antiquity, which indicate votive
offerings to Mars and Quirinus respectively[1453]. From these Mommsen
concludes that Quirinus was at one time worshipped there under the
name of Mars; which involves also the converse, that Mars was once
worshipped under the adjectival cult-title Quirinus. Unluckily Mars
Quirinus is a combination as yet undiscovered; and as the existence of
a patrician Flamen Quirinalis distinct from the Flamen Martialis
points at least to a very early differentiation of the two, it may be
safer to think of the two, not as identical deities, but rather as
equivalent cult-expressions of the same religious conception in two
closely allied communities[1454].
That the Quirinal was the seat of the cult of Quirinus admits of no
doubt; and the name of the hill, which we are told was originally Agonus
or Agonalis[1455], arose no doubt from the cult[1456]. Here were
probably two temples of the god, the one dating from B.C. 293, and
having June 29 as its day of dedication; the other of unknown date,
which celebrated its birthday on the Quirinalia[1457]. A ‘sacellum
Quirini in colle’ is also mentioned at the time of the Gallic
invasion[1458] (this was perhaps the predecessor of the temple of June
29), and also the house of the Flamen Quirinalis which adjoined it. To
the Quirinal also belong the Salii Agonenses, Collini, or Quirinales,
who correspond to the Salii of the Palatine and of Mars[1459]. And here,
lastly, seems to belong the mysterious Flora or Horta Quirini, whose
temple, according to Plutarch[1460], was ‘formerly’ always open. About
the cult of Quirinus on his hill we know, however, nothing, except that
there were two myrtles growing in front of his temple, one called the
patrician and the other the plebeian[1461], and to which a curious story
is attached. Preller[1462] noted that these correspond to the two
laurels in the _sacrarium Martis_ in the Regia, and conjectured that
each pair symbolized the union of the state in the cults of the two
communities.
Of the duties of the Flamen Quirinalis we have already seen
something[1463]: unluckily they throw little or no new light on the cult
of Quirinus. He was concerned in the worship of Robigus, of Consus, and
of Acca Larentia, all of them ancient cults of agricultural Rome; and he
seems to have been in close connexion with the Vestal Virgins[1464].
These are just such duties as we might have expected would fall to the
Flamen of Mars; and probably the two cults were much alike in character.
VII KAL. MART. (FEB. 23.) NP.
TER[MINALIA]. (CAER. MAFF. RUST. PHILOC. SILV.)
Was there any connexion between the Terminalia and the end of the year?
The Roman scholars thought so; Varro[1465] writes, ‘Terminalia quod is
dies anni extremus constitutus; duodecimus enim fuit Februarius, et quum
intercalatur, inferiores quinque dies duodecimo demuntur mense.’ So
Ovid,
Tu quoque sacrorum, Termine, finis eras.
But Terminus is the god of the boundaries of land, and has nothing to do
with time; and the Terminalia is not the last festival of the year in
the oldest calendars. The Romans must have been misled by the
coincidence of the day of Terminus with the last day before
intercalation. The position in the year of the rites to be described
seems parallel to that of the Compitalia and Paganalia, which were
concerned with matters of common interest to a society of farmers: and
we may remember that Pliny[1466] said of the Fornacalia that it was
‘farris torrendi feriae et _aeque religiosae terminis agrorum_.’
The ritual of the Terminalia in the country districts is described by
Ovid[1467]. The two landowners garlanded each his side of the
boundary-stone, and all offerings were double[1468]. An altar is made;
and fire is carried from the hearth by the farmer’s wife, while the old
man cuts up sticks and builds them in a framework of stout stakes. Then
with dry bark the fire is kindled; from a basket, held ready by a
boy[1469], the little daughter of the family thrice shakes the fruits of
the earth into the fire, and offers cakes of honey. Others stand by with
wine; and the neighbours (or dependants) look on in silence and clothed
in white. A lamb is slain, and a sucking-pig, and the boundary-stone
sprinkled with their blood; and the ceremony ends with a feast and songs
in praise of holy Terminus.
This rite was, no doubt, practically a yearly renewal of that by which
the stone was originally fixed in its place. The latter is described by
the gromatic writer Siculus Flaccus[1470]. Fruits of the earth, and the
bones, ashes, and blood of a victim which had been offered were put into
a hole by the two (or three) owners whose land converged at the point,
and the stone was rammed down on the top and carefully fixed. The reason
given for this was of course that the stone might be identified in the
future, e. g. by an arbiter, if one should be called in[1471]; but it
also reminds us of the practice of burying the remains of a
victim[1472], and the use of the blood shows the extreme sanctity of the
operation.
That the stone was regarded as the dwelling-place of a _numen_ is proved
by the fact that it was sprinkled with blood and garlanded[1473]; and
the development of a god Terminus is perfectly in keeping with Roman
religious ideas. It is more difficult to determine what was the relation
of this Terminus to the great Jupiter who was so intimately associated,
as we have seen[1474] with the idea of keeping faith with your
neighbours. Was he the _numen_ originally thought to occupy the stone,
and is the name Terminus, as marking a distinct deity, a later growth? I
am disposed to think that this was so; for we saw that there is some
reason to believe that Jupiter did not disdain to dwell in objects such
as trees and stones, and there is no need to look to Greece for the
origin of his connexion with boundaries[1475]. But Jupiter and Terminus
remained on the whole distinct; and a Jupiter Terminus or Terminalis is
first found on the coins of Varro the great scholar, probably in B.C.
76[1476].
The close connexion of the two is seen in the legend that when Jupiter
was to be introduced into the great Capitoline temple, from the
Capitolium vetus on the Quirinal, all the gods made way for him but
Terminus[1477].
Quid nova cum fierent Capitolia? nempe deorum
Cuncta Iovi cessit turba, locumque dedit.
Terminus, ut veteres memorant, inventus in aede
Restitit, et magno cum love templa tenet.
This, as Preller truly observes, is only a poetical way of expressing
his stubbornness, and his close relation to Jupiter, with whom he
continued to share the great temple. It seems certain that there was in
that temple a stone supposed to be that of Terminus, over which there
was a hole in the roof[1478]: for all sacrifice to Terminus must be made
in the open air.
Nunc quoque, se supra ne quid nisi sidera cernat,
Exiguum templi tecta foramen habent[1479].
Precisely the same feature is found in the cult of Semo Sancus or Dius
Fidius[1480], who was concerned with oaths and treaties; and of Hercules
we are told that the oath taken in his name must be taken out of
doors[1481].
Of the stone itself we know nothing. It is open to us to guess that it
was originally a boundary-stone, perhaps between the ager of the
Palatine city and that of the Quirinal. The mons Capitolinus seems to
have been neutral ground, as we may guess by the tradition of the asylum
there; it was outside the pomoerium, and in the early Republic was the
property of the priestly collegia[1482]. It was, therefore, a very
appropriate place for a terminus between two communities[1483].
From Ovid (679 foll.) we gather that there was a terminus-stone at the
sixth milestone on the via Laurentina, at which public sacrifices were
made, perhaps on the day of the Terminalia: this was probably at one
time the limit of the ager Romanus in that direction.
VI KAL. MART. (FEB. 24). N.
REGIF[UGIUM], (CAER. MAFF. PHILOC.) REGIFUGIUM, CUM TARQUINIUS SUPERBUS
FERTUR AB URBE EXPULSUS. (SILV.)
This note of Silvius is based on a very old and natural misapprehension.
Ovid[1484], and probably most Romans, believed that the expulsion of
Tarquin was commemorated on this day. There is, however, strong indirect
evidence to show that the ‘flight of the king’ on Feb. 24 was something
very different.
1. We have already had a ‘flight of the people’ (Poplifugia) on July 5;
and we saw that this was probably a purificatory rite of which the
meaning had been lost—the sacrifice perhaps of a sacred animal followed
by the flight of the crowd as from a murder. It seems impossible, at any
rate unwise, to separate Poplifugia and Regifugium in general meaning,
for there is no other parallel to them in the calendar. Both were
explained historically by the Romans, because in both the obscure (and
perhaps obsolete) religious rite was inexplicable otherwise; and we must
also endeavour to treat both on the same principle.
2. It seems pretty clear that Verrius Flaccus did not believe in the
historical explanation of the Regifugium. In Festus, page 278, we find a
mutilated gloss which evidently refers to this day, and is thus
completed by Mommsen[1485]:—
_[Regifugium notatur in fastis dies a.d.] vi kal. [Mart. qui creditur
sic dict]us quia [eo die Tarquinius rex fugerit ex urbe]. Quod fal[sum
est; nam e castris in exilium abisse cum r]ettul[erunt annales. Rectius
explicabit qui regem e]t Salios[1486] [hoc die ... facere sacri]ficium
in [comitio eoque perfecto illum inde fugere n]overit ..._
It may be said that this is all guesswork, and no evidence; but it is
borne out by the following passage in Plutarch’s sixty-third Roman
question:
Ἔστι γοῦν τις ἐν ἀγορᾷ θυσία πρὸς τῷ λεγομένῳ Κομητίῳ πάτριος, ἣν θύσας
ὁ Βασιλεὺς κατὰ τάχος ἄπεισι Φεύγων ἐξ ἀγορϡας.
Whence Plutarch drew this statement we cannot tell. He does not give the
day on which the sacrifice and flight took place; and Huschke[1487] has
denied that he refers to the Regifugium at all. He believes that
Plutarch is thinking of the days marked Q. R. C. F. (March 24 and May
24), on which Varro says, or seems to say, that the Rex sacrorum
sacrificed in the Comitium[1488]; and this may have been so, for the
note in the Fasti Praenestini on March 24 shows that there was a popular
misinterpretation of Q. R. C. F., which took the letters to mean, ‘quod
eo die ex comitio fugerit rex.’ In this confusion we can but appeal to
the word Regifugium, which is attached to Feb. 24 only. Taking this
together with Plutarch’s statement, and remembering the great
improbability of the historical explanation being the true one, we are
justified in accepting Mommsen’s completion of the passage in Festus,
and in concluding that there was really on Feb. 24 a flight of the Rex
after a sacrifice.
And this view is strengthened by the frequent occurrence of sacerdotal
flights in ancient and primitive religions. These were first collected
by Lobeck[1489], and have of late been treated of and variously
explained by Mannhardt, Frazer, and Robertson Smith[1490]. The best
known examples are those of the Bouphonia (‘ox murder’) at Athens, in
which every feature shows that the slain ox was regarded, ‘not merely as
a victim offered to a god, but in itself a sacred creature, the
slaughter of which was sacrilege or murder’[1491]; and the sacrifice of
a bull-calf to Dionysus at Tenedos, where the priest was attacked with
stones, and had to flee for his life[1492]. We do not yet know for
certain whether the origin of these ideas is to be found in totemism, or
in the sanctity of cattle in the pastoral age, or in the representation
of the spirit of vegetation in animal form. The second of these
explanations, as elucidated by Robertson Smith, would seem most
applicable to the Athenian rite; but in the case of the Roman one, we do
not know what the victim was. It is also just possible, as Hartung long
ago suggested[1493], that the victim was a scapegoat carrying away
pollution, and therefore to be avoided; but I do not find any example of
flight from a scapegoat, among the many instances collected by Mr.
Frazer (_Golden Bough_, ii. 182 foll.).
III KAL. MART. (FEB. 27). NP.
EQ[UIRRIA]. (MAFF. CAER.: cp. Varro, _L. L._ 6. 13).
We have no data whatever for guessing why a horse-race should take place
on the last day of February, or why there should be two days of racing,
the second being March 14. This has not, however, prevented
Huschke[1494] from making some marvellous conjectures, in which
ingenuity and learning have been utterly thrown away.
We saw[1495] that the oldest races of this kind were connected with
harvest rejoicings; and Mannhardt[1496] suggested that they originated
in the desire to catch the spirit of vegetation in the last sheaf or in
some animal form. Races also occur in various parts of Europe in the
spring—e. g. at the Carnival, at Easter, and at Whitsuntide; and of
these he says that they correspond with the others, and that the idea at
the bottom of them is ‘die Vorstellung des wetteifernden
Frühlingseinzuges der Vegetationsdämonen.’ However this may be, we
cannot but be puzzled by the doubling of the Equirria, and are tempted
to refer it to the same cause as that of the Salii and Luperci[1497].
That both were connected with the cult of Mars is almost beyond
question. They were held in the Campus Martius, and were supposed to
have been established by Romulus in honour of Mars[1498]; and we have
already had an example of the occurrence of horses in the Mars-cult. It
would seem, then, that the peculiar features of the worship of Mars
began even _before_ March 1. Preller noticed this long ago[1499], and
suggested that even the Lupercalia and the Quirinalia have some relation
to the Mars-cult, and that these fall at the time when the first
beginnings of spring are felt—e. g. when the first swallows
arrive[1500]. We may perhaps add the appearance of the Salii at the
Regifugium to these foreshadowings of the March rites. Ovid seems to
bear out Preller in his lines on this day[1501]:
Iamque duae restant noctes de mense secundo,
Marsque citos iunctis curribus urget equos:
Ex vero positum permansit Equirria nomen,
Quae deus in Campo prospicit ipse suo.
Iuro venis, Gradive. Locum tua tempora poseunt,
Signatusque tuo nomine mensis adest.
I may aptly add Ovid’s next couplet, now that we have at last reached
the end of the Roman year:—
Venimus in portum, libro cum mense peracto.
Naviget hinc alia iam mihi linter aqua.
Footnote 1331:
Paulus, 85 ‘Quaecumque purgamenti causa in quibusque sacrificiis
adhibentur, februa appellantur. Id vero quod purgatur, dicitur
_februatum_.’ The verb februare also occurs. Varro (_L. L._ 6. 13)
says that _februum_ was the Sabine equivalent for _purgamentum_: ‘Nam
et Lupercalia februatio, ut in Antiquitatum libris demonstravi’ (cp.
6. 34). Ovid renders the word by ‘piamen’ (_Fasti_, 2. 19). Februus, a
divinity, is mentioned in Macr. 1. 13. 3; he is almost certainly a
later invention (see _Lex. Myth._ s. v.). The etymology of the word is
uncertain.
Footnote 1332:
Varro, _R. R._ 1. 29. Cp. Colum. xi. 2; and the rustic calendars.
Footnote 1333:
Varro, _R. R._ 1. 28. See above, p. 295.
Footnote 1334:
This is very distinctly stated by Cicero (_de Legibus_, 1. 14. 40 ‘In
deos impietatum nulla expiatio est’: cp. 2. 9. 22 ‘Sacrum commissum
quod neque expiari poterit, impie commissum est’). Even the sailor in
Horace’s ode (1. 28), whose duty does not seem exactly binding, is
told, if he omits it, ‘teque piacula nulla resolvent.’ On the general
question, cp. De Marchi, _La Religione nella vita domestica_, 246; and
Marq. 257. The pontifex Scaevola ‘asseverabat prudentem expiari non
posse’ (Macrob. 1. 16. 10). Ovid’s account (_Fasti_, 2. 35 foll.) is
that of a layman and a modern, but not less interesting for that
reason.
Footnote 1335:
Varro, _L. L._ 6. 30 ‘Praetor qui tum (i.e. die nefasto) fatus est, si
imprudens fecit, piaculari hostia facta piatur; si prudens dixit, Q.
Mucius ambigebat eum expiari ut impium non posse.’
Footnote 1336:
_Fasti_, 2. 33.
Footnote 1337:
Ib. 31.
Footnote 1338:
See Marq. 259; Bouché-Leclercq, _Les Pontifes_, 101 foll.
Footnote 1339:
Marq. 180, Bouché-Leclercq, 178.
Footnote 1340:
See Robertson Smith, _Religion of the Semites_, p. 406.
Footnote 1341:
_Fasti_, 2. 19 foll.
Footnote 1342:
This difficult line has occasioned much conjecture, and seems still
inexplicable. See Merkel, _Fasti_, clxvi foll.; and De-Marchi, op.
cit. p. 246.
Footnote 1343:
Aust, _De Aedibus sacris_, pp. 21, 45, 48. On this last page are some
useful remarks on the danger of drawing conclusions as to the
indigenous or foreign origin of deities from the position of their
temples inside or outside the pomoerium.
Footnote 1344:
_Fasti_, 2. 55 foll.
Footnote 1345:
Livy, 33. 42; 34. 53. Jordan, in _Commentationes in hon. Momms._ 359
foll.; Aust, op. cit. p. 20.
Footnote 1346:
See _Dict. of Antiq._ s.v. sacra. Fest. 245 a ‘Publica sacra, quae
publico sumptu pro populo fiunt: quaeque pro montibus, pagis, curiis,
sacellis.’
Footnote 1347:
Ovid, _Fasti_, 2. 527. See under Quirinalia.
Footnote 1348:
See on April 15. There must have been at one time a tendency to
amalgamate the two kinds of _sacra publica_. The _argei_ were also
attended by Pontifices and Vestals. I should conjecture that the
Pontifices claimed supervision over rites in which they had originally
no official _locus standi_, and brought the Vestals with them.
Footnote 1349:
Mommsen, _Staatsrecht_. iii. 1. 89 foll.
Footnote 1350:
Ἱεραὰ οἰκίαι, Dion. Hal. 2. 23; Fest. 174 b; Marq. 195.
Footnote 1351:
Dion. Hal. 2. 23.
Footnote 1352:
Ib. 2. 50. The Latin words are from Paul, 64.
Footnote 1353:
Jordan, on Preller, i. 278 note. Roscher, in _Lex._ s. v. Iuno, 596.
Curis = hasta in Sabine; Fest. 49; Roscher, l. c.; Ovid, _Fasti_, 2.
477.
Footnote 1354:
Cp. the parting of the bride’s hair with a spear, Marq. vii. 44 and
note 5; Plut. _Q. R._ 87; Bötticher, _Baumkultus_, 485; Schwegler, _R.
G._ i. 469.
Footnote 1355:
The same connexion between _curiae_ and the armed deity of the female
principle is found at Tibur (Serv. _Aen._ 1. 17), ‘in sacris
Tiburtibus sic precantur: Iuno curritis (sic) tuo curru clipeoque
tuere meos curiae vernulas,’ Jordan, in _Hermes_, 8. 217 foll.
Possibly also at Lanuvium (_Lex._ s. v. Iuno, 595).
Footnote 1356:
Varro, _L. L._ 5. 83 and 155; Marq. 195.
Footnote 1357:
This has been done by O. Gilbert (_Gesch. und Topogr._ 2, 129 foll.),
an author who is not often so helpful. He is followed by Steuding, in
_Lex. Myth._ s. v. Fornax.
Footnote 1358:
Paul. 93 (cp. 83), ‘Fornacalia feriae institutae sunt farris torrendi
gratia quod ad fornacem quae in pistrinis erat sacrificium fieri
solebat.’ Dionysius was probably referring to this when he wrote (2.
23) that he had himself seen ancient wooden tables spread with rude
cakes of primitive fashion in baskets and dishes of primitive make. He
also mentions καρπῶν τινων ἐπαρχάς (cp. Ovid, l. c. 520), which might
indeed suggest a feast of curiae at a different time of year. For the
_far_, see Marq. vii. 399 foll. The cakes were _februa_, according to
Ovid; see above, p. 301.
Footnote 1359:
Comp. Ovid, l. c. with Fest. 254; Paul. 316; Varro, _L. L._ 6. 13;
Plut. _Q. R._ 89.
Footnote 1360:
_H. N._ 18. 8; Lange, _Röm. Alt._ 1. 2. 245.
Footnote 1361:
_Fasti_, 2. 527 foll.
Footnote 1362:
That it was so is proved by Fest. 254, and Varro, _L. L._ 6. 13. It
must have been a custom fairly well fixed.
Footnote 1363:
ii. 9.
Footnote 1364:
2. 23, Ἐγὼ γοῦν ἐθεασάμην ἐν ἱεραῖς οἰκάις δεῖπνα προκείμενα θεοῖς ἐπὶ
τραπέζαις ξυλίναις ἀρχαικαῖς, ἐν κάνησι καὶ πινακίσκοις κεραμέοις
ἀλφίτων μάζας καὶ πόπανα καὶ ζέας καὶ καρπῶν τινων ἐπαρχάς &c.
Footnote 1365:
_Fasti_, 2. 525. What does Ovid mean by _fruges_?
Footnote 1366:
Paul. 93, quoted above; Ovid, l. c. 525. Fornax as a spirit may be at
least as old as those of other parts of the house, Janus, Vesta,
Limentinus, &c.
Footnote 1367:
Mommsen, _Röm. Forschungen_, i. 149 foll.
Footnote 1368:
Lydus, _de Mens._ 4. 24. Lydus gives the 22nd as the final day; Ovid,
_Fasti_, 2. 569, gives the 21st (Feralia).
Footnote 1369:
Dion. Hal. 2. 40.
Footnote 1370:
_C. I. L._ I². 309: cf. 297 (Introduction, p. 9). The Lupercalia
(15th) is an exception; but for reasons connected with that festival.
The 21st (Feralia) is F P (Caer.) F (Maff.). See Introduction, p. 10.
F P, according to Mommsen, = fastus principio.
Footnote 1371:
If Ovid reflects it rightly in _Fasti_, 5. 419 foll. Cp. Porph. on
Hor. _Ep._ 2. 2. 209. See on Lemuria, above, p. 107.
Footnote 1372:
On the vast subject of the jus Manium and the worship of the dead, the
following are some of the works that may be consulted: Marq. 307
foll., and vii. 350 foll.; De-Marchi, _Il Culto Privato_, p. 180
foll.; Roscher, _Lex._ articles Manes and Inferi; Bouché-Leclereq,
_Pontifes_, 147 foll.; Rohde, _Psyche_, p. 630 foll. Two old treatises
still form the basis of our knowledge: Gutherius, _de iure Manium_, in
Graevius’ _Thesaurus_, vol. xii.; and Kirchmann, _de Funeribus_
(1605). Valuable matter has still to be collected (for later times)
from the _Corpus Inscriptionum_.
Footnote 1373:
This was the universal practice in Italy from the earliest times, so
far as we have as yet learnt from excavations. For the question
whether burial in or close to the house, or within the city walls,
preceded burial in necropoleis, see _Classical Review_, for February,
1897, p. 32 foll. Servius (Ad _Aen._ 5. 64; 6. 152; cp. Isidorus, 15.
ii. 1) tells us that they once buried in the house, and there were
facts that might suggest this in the cult of the Lares, and in the
private ghost-driving of the Lemuria; but we cannot prove it, and it
is not true of the Romans at any period. Not even the well-known law
of the XII Tables can prove that burial ever regularly took place
within the _existing_ walls of a city.
Footnote 1374:
Cic. _De Legg._ 2. 48. Cp. Virg. _Aen._ 5. 49:
Iamque dies, ni fallor, adest, quern semper acerbum,
Semper honoratum—sic di voluistis—habebo.
Footnote 1375:
Marq. 311 foll.
Footnote 1376:
Purpureosque iacit flores, Virg. _Aen._ 5. 79. Cp. Cic. _pro Flacco_,
38. 95.
Footnote 1377:
_Aeneidea_, 3. 15. He well compares Lucan, 9. 990. Tylor, _Prim.
Cult._ ii. 332. Aeneas is here, as always, the true type of the
practical Roman.
Footnote 1378:
Marq. 311 and reff.
Footnote 1379:
_Fasti_, 2. 617 foll. Among the calendars it is only mentioned in
those of Philocalus and Silvius, and in the rustic calendars. Valerius
Maximus is the next writer after Ovid who mentions it: 2. 1. 8. Cp.
_C. I. L._ vi. 10234. Martial calls it ‘lux propinquorum’ (9. 55, cp.
54). For an interesting conjecture as to the special meaning of
_carus_, see Lattes quoted in De-Marchi, op. cit. 214, note 2.
Footnote 1380:
Val. Max. l. c. and Silvius’ _Calendar_.
Footnote 1381:
Ovid, _Fasti_, 2. 623,
Innocui veniant: procul hinc, procul impius esto
Frater, et in partus mater acerba suos.
Footnote 1382:
Ovid, _Fasti_, 2. 633-634. On such occasions the Lares were clothed in
tunics girt at the loins; see a figure of a Lar on an altar from Caere
in Baumeister, _Denkmäler_, vol. i. p. 77.
Footnote 1383:
_Fasti_, 2. 571 foll.
Footnote 1384:
Line 583. See Wissowa in _Lex._ s. v. Dea Muta.
Footnote 1385:
See e. g. Crooke, _Folklore of Northern India_, ch. 5 (the Black Art),
and especially pp. 264 foll.
Footnote 1386:
See e. g. Leland, _Etruscan Roman remains in popular legend_, pp. 3
and 195 foll.
Footnote 1387:
The chief attempts are those of Unger, in _Rhein. Mus._, 1881, p. 50,
and Mannhardt in his _Mythologische Forschungen_, pp. 72-155. The
former is ingenious, but unsatisfactory in many ways; the latter
conscientious, and valuable as a study in folk-lore, whether its
immediate conclusions be right or wrong. See also Schwegler, _R. G._
i. 356 foll.; Preller, i. 387 foll.; and article s. v. in _Dict. of
Antiquities_ (2nd edition); Marq. 442 foll. The ancient authorities
are Dion. Hal. 1. 32. 5, 79, 80; Ovid, _Fasti_, 2. 267 foll.;
Plutarch, _Caes._ 61, _Rom._ 21; Val. Max. 2. 2. 9; Propert. 5. (4.)
1. 26; and many other passages which will be referred to when
necessary.
Footnote 1388:
Dion. Hal. 1. 32. 5.
Footnote 1389:
Jordan, _Kritische Beiträge_, 164 foll. Unger’s attempt, after Serv.
_Aen._ 8. 343. to derive the word from _luo_ (‘to purify’) is
generally rejected.
Footnote 1390:
Wissowa, _Lex._ (s. v. Lupercus) takes the latter view, but rightly,
as I think, rejects the deity.
Footnote 1391:
Virg. _Aen._ 8. 630 ‘Mavortis in antro.’ Roscher, in _Lex._ s. v.
Mars, 2388; Preller, i. 334.
Footnote 1392:
Plut. _Rom_. 21. After mentioning the goats, he says, ἴδιον δὲ τῆς
ἑορτῆς τὸ καὶ κύνα θύειν τοὺς Δουπέρκους (cp. _Q. R._ iii).
Footnote 1393:
Marq. 165. See above, p. 110.
Footnote 1394:
So Val. Max. l.c. From Ovid’s version of the aetiological story of
Romulus and Remus (_Fasti_, 2. 371 foll.) we might infer that the
feasting took place after the running.
Footnote 1395:
‘Cornipedi Fauno caesa de more capella’ (_Fasti_, 2. 361). Cp. 5. 101.
So Plut. _Rom._ l. c.
Footnote 1396:
Livy, 1. 5. Unger (p. 71 foll.) has much to say about Inuus in the
worst style of German pseudo-research. See _Lex._ s. v. (Steuding).
Footnote 1397:
Schwegler, i. 351 foll.; Justin, 43. 1. I had long ago arrived at this
conclusion, and was glad to see it sanctioned by Wissowa in _Lex._ s.
v. Lupercus.
Footnote 1398:
_Aen._ 8. 343: the only reason given is that the goat was Liber’s
victim.
Footnote 1399:
Arnobius, 2. 23. See Mannhardt, 85; Huschke, _Röm. Jahr_, 12.
Footnote 1400:
Schwegler, i. 354 foll.: the general result is given in _Lex._ s. v.
Evander, vol. 1. 1395. Evander himself = Faunus. It is possible that
there may be some basis of truth in the Arcadian legend: we await
further archaeological inquiry.
Footnote 1401:
See on Dec. 5; and _Lex._ s. v. Faunus, p. 1458.
Footnote 1402:
Serv. _Aen._ 2. 351. The whole passage is very interesting. See on
Dec. 21; and Bouché-Leclercq, _Pontifes_, 28 and 49.
Footnote 1403:
_Fasti_, 2. 282; Marq. 443.
Footnote 1404:
Plut. _Q. R._ 111; Gell. 10. 15; Arnob. 7. 21.
Footnote 1405:
_Rom._ 21: quoted above, p. 311. Val. Max. l. c. seems also to imply
it: ‘Facto sacrificio caesisque capris, epularum hilaritate ac vino
largiore provecti, divisa pastorali turba, cincti pellibus immolatarum
hostiarum, iocantes obvios petiverunt.’
Footnote 1406:
Even this point is not quite certain; but see Hartung, _Rel. der
Römer_, ii. 178, and Mannhardt, 78.
Footnote 1407:
Ox, sheep and pig were the usual victims; the dog was only offered to
Robigus (see on April 25), to the Lares Praestites and to Mana Geneta;
the goat only to Bacchus and Aesculapius, foreign deities (Marq. 172).
The goat-skin of Juno Sospita is certainly Greek: _Lex._ s. v. Iuno,
595. The goat was a special Hebrew _piaculum_ (Robertson Smith, 448;
cf. 453).
Footnote 1408:
Robertson Smith, 379.
Footnote 1409:
Ib. 381.
Footnote 1410:
_Rom._ 21 οἱ μὲν ᾐμαγμένῃ μαχαίρᾳ τοῦ μετώπου θιγγάνουσιν, ἕτεροι δ’
ἀπομάττουσιν εὐθὺς ἔριον βεβρεγμένον γάλακτι προσφέροντες. Γελᾶν δὲ
δεῖ τὰ μειρόκια μετὰ τὴν ἀπόμαξιν.
Footnote 1411:
So Schwegler. l. c. and reff. in Marq. 443 notes 11-13. Dion. Hal. (1.
32) compared the human sacrifice in the cult of Zeus Lycaeus in
Arcadia. See Farnell, _Cults_, i. 40 foll.
Footnote 1412:
We ought to have the whole _history_ of the Lupercalia if we are to
explain it rightly; it is impossible to guess through what stages and
changes it may have passed.
Footnote 1413:
4. 478 (quoted in a valuable section (23) of Hermann’s
_Gottesdienstliche Alterthümer der Griechen_).
Footnote 1414:
For examples of this idea see under Feb. 24 (Regifugium); Robertson
Smith, 286; Mannhardt, _Myth. Forsch._ 58 foll.
Footnote 1415:
It may indeed be misrepresented by Plutarch (who is the only writer
who mentions it), and may have been originally an ἀλολυγή. For the
confusion of mournful and joyful cries at a sacrifice see Robertson
Smith, 411.
Footnote 1416:
Robertson Smith notes (p. 396) that young men, or rather lads, occur
as sacrificers in Exodus xxiv. 5.
Footnote 1417:
p. 91 foll.
Footnote 1418:
Mannhardt is not lucid on this point; he was evidently in difficulties
(pp. 97-99). He seems clear that the application of the blood produces
an _identity_ between victim and youths; but in similar cases it is
not through death that victim, god, and priest become identical, but
through the life-giving virtue of the blood. The blood-application
must surely mean the acquisition of new life; but he makes it symbolic
of death.
Footnote 1419:
Frazer, _G. B._ ii. 242.
Footnote 1420:
Mannhardt seems to have felt this difficulty (p. 86), and to have
tried to overcome it, but without success.
Footnote 1421:
I here omit the feasting, as it is by no means certain at what point
of time it took place. If the victims themselves were eaten, it would
be part of the sacrificial act and would precede the running; but this
is not common in the case of such _piacula_, and one victim, we must
remember, was a dog. It is more likely that Val. Max. is here wrong
(see above, p. 311, note 6).
Footnote 1422:
See Mannhardt, _Antike Wald- und Feldkulte_, 318 foll., and for other
examples, Frazer, _G. B._ ii. 1 foll.; Preller-Robert, _Griech. Myth._
i. 144 (Zeus-festival on Pelion).
Footnote 1423:
After Schwegler, i. 361; rejected by Marq. (439, note 4).
Footnote 1424:
p. 101. The ‘wolves’ represent of course the Palatine city.
Footnote 1425:
See his eminently modest and sensible remarks at the end of his 5th
section, p. 113.
Footnote 1426:
Robertson Smith, _Religion of the Semites_, 416 foll.; _Encycl. Brit._
art. ‘Sacrifice’; and for the Lupercalia, _Academy_, Feb. 11, 1888,
where a totemistic origin is suggested.
Footnote 1427:
See also Lobeck, _Aglaoph._ pp. 183-6; Lang, _Myth, Ritual and
Religion_, vol. ii. 177 (cp. 106) and reff., 213; _Dict. of
Antiquities_, art. ‘Sacrificium,’ p. 584.
Footnote 1428:
Festus, p. 57 ‘Creppos, id est lupercos, dicebant a crepitu
pellicularum,’ &c.
Footnote 1429:
Preller, i. 389. On this Jordan has added no comment.
Footnote 1430:
_Ann._ 12. 24; Jordan, _Topogr._ i. 163 foll., has examined Tacitus’s
account with great care. Tacitus starts the pomoerium from the Forum
boarium, while Dionysius and Plutarch start the runners from the
Lupercal; but the two are close together.
Footnote 1431:
The reading is not quite certain; the MSS. have ‘Larum de forumque.’
Footnote 1432:
The Sacellum Larum has generally been supposed to be that in summa
sacra via (Jordan, op. cit. ii. 269). Kiepert and Huelsen make it the
sacellum or ara Larum praestitum at the head of the Vicus Tuscus.
Footnote 1433:
_L. L._ 6. 34. Mommsen proposed ‘a regibus Romanis moenibus cinctum.’
But it is safer to keep to the MS. reading and make the best of it.
Jordan sees in the words a ‘scurrilous’ allusion to the _luperci_.
Footnote 1434:
For modern practices of the kind in England see Brand, _Popular
Antiquities_, ch. 36; and for Oxford, p. 209. As Brand puts it, the
beaters (i. e. ministers, churchwardens, &c.), ‘_beg a blessing on the
fruits of the earth_, and preserve the rights and boundaries of their
parish.’ The analogy with the old Italian processions is very close.
Footnote 1435:
So _C. I. L._ 6. 1933 ‘lupercus Quinctialis vetus.’ See Mommsen,
_Forsch._ i. 117. Unger, however (p. 56 foll.), argues for the form
Quintilianus, as it appears in Fest. 87, and Ovid, _Fasti_, 2. 378;
and also denies that the names indicate gentile priesthoods. But his
arguments depend on a doubtful etymology. See Marq. 440, note.
Footnote 1436:
Liv. 5. 46. Mommsen connects the name _Kaeso_, which is found in both
gentes, with the cutting of the strips at the Lupercalia. The Fabii in
Ovid’s story (361 foll.) are led by Remus, and the Quintilii by
Romulus.
Footnote 1437:
See under March 1, p. 41.
Footnote 1438:
So Mannhardt, 101, who tries to explain it as we have seen.
Footnote 1439:
Gilbert, _Gesch. und Topogr._ i. 86, note, tries to make out that the
Fabii belonged to the Palatine proper; and the other guild, not to the
Quirinal, but to the Cermalus, and thus also to account for the fact
that in Ovid’s story the Fabii come first to the feast; but all this
is pure guesswork.
Footnote 1440:
Plut. _Rom._ 21 and _Caes._ 61; Ovid, _Fasti_, 2. 425 foll.; Paul. 57;
Liv. fragm. 12 (Madvig); Serv. _Aen._ 8. 343. All these passages make
it clear that the object was to procure fertility in women. Nic.
Damasc., _Vita Caesaris_ 21, does not specify women (cp. Dion. Hal. 1.
80).
Footnote 1441:
Liv. l. c. and Serv. l. c. are explicit on this point.
Footnote 1442:
Op. cit. 113 foll. and his _Baumkultus_, p. 251 foll. (see also
Frazer, _G. B._ ii. 214 and 232 foll.). An example of the same kind of
practice in India is in Crooke, _Religion and Folklore_, vol. i. p.
100. See under May 1 (Bona Dea), p. 104.
Footnote 1443:
They were also called ‘amiculum Iunonis’ (Fest. 85: cp. Ovid, _Fasti_,
2. 427 foll.); Juno here, as so often, representing the female
principle. Farnell (_Cults_, i. 100) aptly compares with this the
Athenian custom of carrying Athena’s _aegis_ round Athens, and taking
it into the houses of married women.
Footnote 1444:
Lactantius, _Inst._ 1. 21. 45, describes them as ‘nudi, uncti,
coronati, personati, aut luto obliti currunt’; but we have no certain
confirmation from earlier sources except as to the nakedness (Ovid,
_Fasti_, 2. 267).
Footnote 1445:
‘_Iocantes_ obvios petiverunt’ (Val. Max.). Mannhardt, _Myth. Forsch._
140 foll.
Footnote 1446:
Mon. Ancyr. iv. 2; Marq. 446.
Footnote 1447:
Baronius, _Annal. Eccles._ viii. 60 foll.
Footnote 1448:
Aust, _de Aedibus sacris_, p. 11; Jordan, _Eph. Epigr._ iii. 238.
Footnote 1449:
e. g. Cic. _ad Quint. Fratr._ 2. 3. 2.
Footnote 1450:
See other references in Preller, i. 374, note. Ambrosch (_Studien_,
169, note 50) observes that Cicero (_de Off._ 3. 10) writes with a
trace of scepticism: ‘Romulus fratre interempto sine controversia
peccavit, pace vel Quirini vel Romuli dixerim.’
Footnote 1451:
See Jordan on Preller, i. 369. The article ‘Quirinus’ in _Myth. Lex._
has not yet appeared as I write.
Footnote 1452:
_Studien_, 169.
Footnote 1453:
_C. I. L._ i. 41 = vi. 475 and i. 630 = vi. 565. The older one is
attributed by Mommsen to the consul P. Cornelius of B.C. 236: ‘P.
Corn[elios] L. f. coso[l] prob[avit] Mar[te sacrom].’ The other,
‘Quirino L. Aimilius L. f. praitor,’ must be set down to an Aemilius
praetor in 204, 191, or 190. The inference is that Mars became known
as Quirinus in that spot at the end of the third century B.C. It is
worth noting that the legendary smith, Mamurius, had a statue on the
Quirinal (Jord. _Top._ ii. 125).
Footnote 1454:
This is much what Dion. Hal. 2. 48 says was one view held in his time:
οὐκ ἔχοντας εἰπεῖν τὸ ἀκριβὲς εἴτε Ἄρης ἐστὶν εἴτε ἕτερός τις ὁμοίας
Ἄρει τιμὰς ἔχων.
Footnote 1455:
See on Jan. 9. Fest. 254.
Footnote 1456:
Gilbert, i. 283, points out that in the Argean itinerary (Jord. _Top._
ii. 237 foll.) one of the _divisions_ of the Quirinal bears the name,
and infers the gradual spread of the cult of Quirinus over the whole
hill; but he insists that it was introduced from the Palatine. The
general result of his wild but ingenious combinations is to infer a
religious conquest of the Quirinal from the Palatine.
Footnote 1457:
Aust, op. cit. pp. 11 and 33. Mommsen, _C. I. L._ i. 310, takes the
one of unknown date as the older.
Footnote 1458:
Aust, op. cit. 51, where for Liv. 4. 21 read Liv. 5. 40.
Footnote 1459:
Preller, i. 356.
Footnote 1460:
_Q. R._ 46; Ennius ap. Nonium 120; Gell. 13. 23.
Footnote 1461:
Plin. _H. N._ 15. 120.
Footnote 1462:
i. 373.
Footnote 1463:
See under April 25, Aug. 21, Dec. 23. Marq. 335; Schwegler, i. 334.
Footnote 1464:
Liv. 5. 40, 7 and 8.
Footnote 1465:
_L. L._ 6. 13. According to Macrob. (1. 13. 15) the five last days of
February were added after the intercalation, in order that March might
follow on Feb., and not on the intercalated days.
Footnote 1466:
_H. N._ 18. 8. See above, p. 304.
Footnote 1467:
_Fasti_, 2. 643 foll.
Footnote 1468:
Te duo diversa domini pro parte coronant,
Binaque serta tibi binaque liba ferunt.
Footnote 1469:
This must be a son of the family. We have, therefore, in this charming
picture the predecessors of the Rex, the Regina sacrorum, the
flamines, and the Vestal Virgins.
Stat puer et manibus lata canistra tenet.
Inde ubi ter fruges medios immisit in ignes,
Porrigit incisos filia parva favos.
De-Marchi, p. 231, gives a cut of a painting at Herculaneum which may
represent a scene of this kind.
Footnote 1470:
_Gromatici veteres_, i. 141. See Rudorff in vol. ii. 236 for an
interesting discussion of the religio terminorum and its ethical and
legal results.
Footnote 1471:
Rudorff, l. c. 237.
Footnote 1472:
Jevons, _Introduction to the History of Religion_, 149.
Footnote 1473:
Robertson Smith, _Religion of the Semites_, 187 foll.
Footnote 1474:
See under September, p. 229 foll. I may here notice the very curious
‘oraculum’ in _Grom. Vet._ p. 350 (ex libris Vegoiae) which connects
Jupiter with the introduction of termini in Etruria.
Footnote 1475:
Ζεὺς ὅπιος he is called by Dion. Hal. (2. 74), where the cult is
ascribed to Numa. Farnell, _Cults of the Greek States_ i. 159.
Footnote 1476:
Aust, in _Myth. Lex._ s. v. Iuppiter, 668.
Footnote 1477:
_Fasti_, 2. 667; Liv. 1. 55; Serv. _Aen._ 9. 448. Augustine, _C. D._
4. 23, adds Mars, and Dion. Hal. 3. 69 Iuventus to Terminus, who could
not be ‘exauguratus.’
Footnote 1478:
Serv. _Aen._ 9. 448 ‘Unde in Capitolio prona pars tecti patet, quae
lapidem ipsum Termini spectat.’ This is the ‘Capitoli immobile saxum’
of Virgil; see above, p. 230.
Footnote 1479:
Ovid, l. c. 671.
Footnote 1480:
See above, p. 140. Varro, _L. L._ 5. 66.
Footnote 1481:
Plut. _Q. R._ 28.
Footnote 1482:
Ambrosch, _Studien_, 199 foll.
Footnote 1483:
It would exactly correspond to the spot of sacred ground on which the
terminus-stone stood between two properties (Rudorff, l. c). In the
latter case, it is worth noting, the sacrifices and sacrificers are
doubles, as with the Salii, Luperci, &c, of the two Roman settlements.
Mr. Granger (_Worship of the Romans_, 163) suggests that this stone
was ‘a relic from the original dwellers by the Tiber,’ i.e. pre-Roman.
But the question is, How did the Romans come to associate it with
Terminus?
Footnote 1484:
_Fasti_, 2. 685 foll. He is probably following Varro and common
opinion, which latter Verrius refers to (Paul. 279) ‘Regifugium sacrum
dicebant, quo die rex Tarquinius fugerit e Roma.’ The word _dicebant_
seems to show that this was not Verrius’ own opinion.
Footnote 1485:
_C. I. L._ i. 289. This gloss is no doubt the equivalent in Festus to
that of Paulus just quoted; but the leading word Regifugium is lost. I
have only quoted so much as is needed for our purpose. For other
completions of the gloss see Müller, _Festus_, l. c, and Huschke,
_Röm. Jahr_, p. 166.
Footnote 1486:
If this gloss really refers to Feb. 24, the presence of the Salii is
difficult to account for, as their period of activity begins in March.
Frazer in an interesting note (_G. B._ ii. 210) suggests that the use
of the Salii was to drive away evil demons; if the Regifugium was a
solemn piaculum, and the victim a scapegoat, this explanation might
serve for Feb. 24.
Footnote 1487:
_Röm. Jahr_, 166 foll.
Footnote 1488:
_L. L._ 6. 31, where Hirschfeld has conjectured ‘litat ad comitium’
for the MS. ‘dicat.’
Footnote 1489:
_Aglaophamus_, 676.
Footnote 1490:
Mannhardt, _Myth. Forsch._ 58 foll.; Frazer, _Golden Bough_, ii. 35
foll.; Robertson Smith, _Religion of the Semites_, 286 foll. Cp. Lang,
_Myth, Ritual and Religion_, ii. 233 foll. See also Farnell, _Cults of
the Greek States_, i. 88 foll., who agrees in the main with Robertson
Smith.
Footnote 1491:
Frazer, l. c.
Footnote 1492:
Aelian, _N. A._ 12. 34.
Footnote 1493:
_Relig. der Römer_, ii. 35. Cp. Gilbert, i. 343, note. The presence of
the Salii (see above, p. 328), if a fact, would be in favour of this
explanation.
Footnote 1494:
_Röm. Jahr_, 199.
Footnote 1495:
See on Aug. 21 (Consualia).
Footnote 1496:
_Myth. Forsch._ 170 foll.; _Baumkultus_, 382 foll.
Footnote 1497:
This, though with impossible combinations, is what Huschke does (199,
note 53). Feb. 27 is the Roman, March 14 the Quirinal Equirria, in his
view. That the Quirinalia falls in February may perhaps give some
support to the view.
Footnote 1498:
Varro, _L. L._ 6. 13; Fest. 81. See under Oct. 15.
Footnote 1499:
i. 361.
Footnote 1500:
So Ovid, on Feb. 26, writes (2. 853);
Fallimur, an veris praenuntia venit hirundo,
Et metuit ne qua versa recurrat hiems?
This would be early now for central Italy; but Columella, 11. 2, gives
Feb. 23 as the date.
Footnote 1501:
_Fasti_, 2. 857 foll.
CONCLUSION
At the end of the introductory chapter a promise was made that when we
had completed the round of the year, we would sum up our results, sketch
in outline the history of Roman religious ideas, and estimate the
influence of all this elaborate ceremonial on the life and character of
the Roman people. This undertaking I must now endeavour to fulfil,
though with doubt and diffidence; for even after the most careful
examination of the Calendar, both the character and the history of the
Roman religious system must still in great degree remain a mystery. With
such knowledge however as may have been gleaned in the preceding pages,
the reader may be able to appreciate or criticize a few conclusions of a
more general character.
The Roman religion has been ably discussed in general terms by several
writers of note in the century just closing. Mommsen’s chapters in the
early books of his Roman History are familiar to every one. The
introduction to Marquardt’s volume on our subject is indispensable; and
Preller, less exact perhaps, but more sympathetic and inspiring, still
holds the field with the opening chapters of his work on Roman
Mythology. To these classical works may be added the section on the
Roman religion in the second volume of the _Religionsgeschichte_ of
Chantepie de la Saussaye, and the first chapter of Boissier’s work on
the Roman religion from Augustus onwards. Professor Granger’s _Worship
of the Romans_ also contains here and there some suggestive remarks,
though as a rule these are not based upon any elaborate investigation of
the cult. Lastly I may mention a small but valuable treatise, published
as long ago as 1837 by Leopold Krahner, on the history of the decay of
the Roman religion down to the time of Augustus, which fell into my
hands many years ago, and is in almost every sentence of value to the
student of Roman history.
In all these works the one point insisted on at the outset is this: that
the Romans were more interested in the cult of their deities, that is,
in the ritual and routine by which they could be rightly and
successfully propitiated, than in the character and personality of the
deities themselves. This is indeed a truth which has been abundantly
borne out in our examination of the Calendar, and might be further
illustrated in almost every public act of procedure in the Roman State.
Cicero himself expresses it well in the second book of his _De Natura
Deorum_ (2. 3. 8) ‘Si conferre volumus nostra cum externis, ceteris
rebus aut pares aut etiam inferiores reperiemur, religione, id est cultu
deorum, multo superiores.’ The second book of his work _De Legibus_ is
also an invaluable witness to the conviction, lasting on even in an age
of scepticism and indifference among the educated, that the due
performance of sacred rites was a necessary function of the State, on
which its very existence depended. The Christian Fathers, some of whom,
like St. Augustine and Tertullian, were men of learning who had studied
the voluminous works of Varro, were well aware of this character; and
Tertullian in a curious passage went so far as to suggest that the Devil
had here perpetrated an imitation or parody of the minute ritual of
Leviticus[1502]. So far as externals go, the comparison he suggested is
a useful one; but there is an essential difference in the religious
spirit which lay at the root of the two ceremonial systems—a difference
that makes it impossible that any work should be written on the Roman
religion as inspiring for the student of religious history as _The
Religion of the Semites_ so often quoted in these pages.
This elaborate Roman ceremonial consisted in the main of sacrifices of
different kinds, conducted with an endless but ordered variety of
detail, of prayers, processions, and festivities, the object of which
was either to obtain certain practical results, to discover the will of
the gods, or to rejoice with the divine inhabitants of the city over the
prosperous event of some undertaking. When we survey it in the Calendar
as a whole, it seems to fall naturally into three divisions, which
correspond with and illustrate the development of the State from its
constituent materials. The Calendar contains in fact in a fossilized
condition the remains of three different strata of religious or social
development.
(1) Here and there we find survivals of what we can only regard as the
most primitive condition of human life in ancient Latium: that of men
dwelling on forest-clad hill-tops, surrounded by a world of spirits,
some of which have taken habitation in, or are in some sort represented
by, objects such as trees, animals, or stones. Examples of such objects
are the oak of Jupiter Feretrius, the sacred fig-tree of Rumina, the
stone of Terminus with its buried sacrifice, and the wolf, the
wood-pecker, and spear of Mars. To this earliest stratum may also belong
in their ultimate origin those quaint sacrificial or semi-dramatic rites
of which we have had examples in the Lupercalia, the Fordicidia, and the
Parilia. The casting of the Argei into the Tiber may perhaps also be
reckoned here, though connected later on with certain divisions of the
developed city of which the meaning and origin are lost to us. This
primitive population knew also of charms and spells and omens, not
reduced indeed as yet to a definite system, of which the Calendar
naturally supplies hardly any indications, while in Ovid and Cato not a
few survivals meet us. But the investigation of the oldest culture of
central Italy is more especially the province of archaeology, and to the
archaeologists, who are now in Italy doing excellent and elaborate work,
I must be content to leave it.
(2) We next come conjecturally to clearly-defined evidence of a period
in which the ordered processes of agriculture, and the settled life of
the farm-house, are the distinctive features. We have the beginnings of
a calendar in the observation of the quarters of the moon and their
connexion with the deities of light. We have the discipline of the
house, represented in the cult of Vesta the hearth-spirit, under the
care of the daughters of the family, while the sons as _flamines_ have
their special sacrificial duties, the head of the house presiding over
all, and having as his own special department the worship of the spirit
of the door-way (Janus). The occupations of the family are reflected in
the series of festivals which represent the processes and perils of
pastoral and agricultural industry: e.g. the Robigalia, Ambarvalia,
Vestalia, Consualia, Opiconsivia, Vinalia, Saturnalia, and Terminalia:
this last indicating also the idea of property, whether of the community
or the individual. We have also clear traces of the union of farms in a
group (_pagus_); for the Paganalia still survived in the full-grown
city, and both at the Saturnalia and Compitalia the households met
together at the winter period of ease and rejoicing.
(3) The further development of social life is also reflected in the
annual rites we have been investigating. We see the aggregation of small
communities in the Septimontium, in the Fornacalia or feast of the
Curiae, possibly also in the ritual of the twenty-four or twenty-seven
Sacella Argeorum, round which a procession seems to have gone in March
and May. The Parentalia again is the systematized cult of the dead in
their own city, outside the walls of the city of the living. The Lares
Praestites, worshipped on May 1, are the guardian spirits of the whole
community. The Regia, the dwelling of the king, is its political and
religious centre, with its sacrarium of Mars, the peculiar deity of the
stock, and with the house and hearth of Vesta close by, now grown to be
the symbol of the State’s vitality. The Vestals and Flamines have become
priests of special worships in an organized state, and at the head of
all is the Rex, still specially concerned with the cult of Janus, but
representing in his priestly capacity the whole community. The steadily
increasing tendency to organize, a tendency rooted in the very fibre of
this people, is producing colleges of pontifices and augurs, to assist
by associated effort in making sure of the laws of intercourse with the
unseen world, and of the best methods of divining its will and
intention. And lastly, not only have we found in the festivals traces of
the growth and systematization of the life of the city, but in the great
Latin festival we have also religious evidence of the early tendency of
the cities of Latin blood to combine in some sort with each other.
We have thus reached what has been called by Preller the period of Numa,
the king with whose name and personality the Romans always associated
the redaction of the Fasti and the state-organization of their religion:
a personality so clearly conceived by them as to bear witness at once to
its own historical reality, and to their conviction of the vital
importance of his work. Before we go further, let us pause here to
interrogate the Calendar as to the nature of the divine beings who in
these same stages of development were the objects of popular worship.
The simplest way to do this will be to present a table showing the list
of the most ancient festivals, with the deities concerned in them, so
far as they can be identified, in a parallel column:—
_Festivals._ _Deities._
KALENDS JUNO.
IDES JUPITER.
EQUIRRIA MARS.
LIBERALIA LIBER.
FORDICIDIA TELLUS?
CERIALIA CERES.
PARILIA PALE?
ROBIGALIA ROBIGUS.
LEMURIA Ghosts
(unburied).
ARGEORUM SACRA Unknown.
AGONIA VEDIOVIS?
VESTALIA VESTA.
MATRALIA MATER MATUTA.
POPLIFUGIA Unknown.
LUCARIA Unknown.
NEPTUNALIA NEPTUNUS.
FURRINALIA FURRINA?
PORTUNALIA PORTUNUS.
VINALIA JUPITER.
CONSUALIA CONSUS.
VOLCANALIA VOLCANUS.
OPICONSIVIA OPS CONSIVA.
MEDITRINALIA Unknown.
FONTINALIA FONS?
AGONIA Unknown.
CONSUALIA CONSUS.
SATURNALIA SATURNUS.
OPALIA OPS.
DIVALIA ANGERONA?
LARENTALIA LARENTIA?
AGONIA JANUS?
CARMENTALIA. CARMENTA.
LUPERCALIA Unknown.
QUIRINALIA QUIRINUS.
FERALIA BURIED
ANCESTORS.
TERMINALIA TERMINUS.
REGIFUGIUM Unknown.
Here it will be noticed that in those festivals which seem to be
survivals from the oldest stratum of civilization (the period of Faunus,
as Preller has named it), viz. the Lupercalia, Parilia, Fordicidia,
Argeorum Sacra, the deities concerned are either altogether doubtful, or
so wanting in clearness and prominence as to be altogether subordinate
in interest to the details of the ceremony. The Parilia and Fordicidia
were believed in later times to have belonged to Pales and Tellus; but
our authority for the grounds of such belief is not strong, and as a
matter of fact these two, together with the sacrifice of the October
horse, were interconnected by details of antique ceremonial, rather than
separately defined by their relation to particular _numina_. In other
festivals which may have possibly come down from the oldest period, the
deity is almost entirely lost. Here is good evidence of the
indistinctness of the Roman conception of the divine; the cult appealed
to this people as the practical method of obtaining their desires, but
the unseen powers with whom they dealt in this cult were beyond their
ken, often unnamed, and only visible in the sense of being seated in, or
in some sort symbolized by, tree or stone or animal. They are often
multiplex, like the Fauni, Silvani, Lares, Penates, Semones, Carmentes;
or they run into each other, like Bona Dea, Maia, Tellus, Ceres, Dea
Dia, and others. Only the great deity of the stock stands out at all
clearly; Father Mars of the Romans; Father Diovis of the whole Latin
race; to these we may perhaps add the Hercules or Genius, and Juno,
representing respectively the male and female principles of human life.
In the second and third of the strata which the Calendar offers to the
excavator, representing the ordered life of the household and afterwards
of the city, we still find much of the same indistinctness. Vesta
indeed, the spirit of the hearth-fire, becomes clearly though not
personally delineated; so too, but in a less degree, does Janus the
spirit of the doorway. Two other groups of spirits also occupy the
house; the Lares, who may have been the spirits of dead ancestors duly
buried, and the Penates or spirits of the store-chamber; both of them
becoming sufficiently clear in the popular conception to be represented
by images at a very early period. But in the round of ancient festivals,
some at least of the so-called gods, so far as we can guess at their
original nature, hardly deserve that name. Liber and Ceres seem to have
been originally general names for an ill-defined class of spirits;
Robigus is the spirit of the mildew; Consus and Ops are not
personalities, but _numina_ protecting the gathered harvest, as Saturnus
probably protected the sown seed. The Compitalia was concerned only with
the Lares Compitales, spirits of the crossways; in the Paganalia we have
but very indistinct information as to the object of worship. The
Vinalia, marking a later and more skilled agricultural process, seems on
the other hand always to have been clearly connected with Jupiter
himself.
Thus in the so-called period of Numa, the period of the earlier monarchy
and the first organization of the city-state, the religious life of the
community had become highly systematized in respect of the cult, of the
priest in charge of it, and the _ius_ which governed all the citizens in
their relation to the world of divinities. Of any real change however in
the character of these divinities, of any approach to polytheism in the
way of an increased individuality of conception, of iconic
representation, or definite temple-worship, the Calendar then drawn up
supplies no certain evidence. There may indeed have been a tendency
towards a clearer definition of _numina_, arising from the very fact of
the definite organization of prayer and sacrifice, and of the allotment
of cults to particular priesthoods or families. There may, even at that
early stage in Roman history, have been an influence at work on the
Roman mind, coming from Etruria and Greece, where polytheism found its
nourishment in works of art and mythological fancy. These are
possibilities of which we must take account, but the Calendar has
nothing positive to tell us of them.
It is when we advance to the later monarchy, which we may speak of
without hesitation as an Etruscan dynasty, that we find a change
beginning, both in the forms and objects of the cult, which marks an
epoch in Roman religious history. The oldest Calendar, that of the large
letters in the Fasti, tells us of course nothing of this. But in the
_additamenta ex fastis_, and in later literary allusions, we have a
considerable body of material to help us in following out the character
and consequences of this change. It is at this point, or rather at the
end of the monarchy, that we begin to hear of the building of real
temples, as distinct from luci, sacella, arae, or fana; of the
introduction into these of statues of the gods, of the _Graecus ritus_
in sacrifice, and of the appearance of new deities, some of them
apparently connected with new elements of population.
This epoch is most clearly marked by the building of the great temple on
the Capitol of Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva, an Etruscan Trias, perhaps
ultimately of Greek origin, whose statues, as we have seen, were invited
in true polytheistic fashion to partake of a feast every year on the
Ides of September, the _dies natalis_ of the temple. This temple was
dedicated in B.C. 509, directly after the expulsion of Tarquinius
Superbus. The next of which we hear is that of the old Roman Saturnus
(B.C. 497), now strangely represented by a fettered statue, and
worshipped henceforward _Graeco ritu_, with the head uncovered. Next
comes Mercurius (B.C. 495), a god unknown to the most ancient Fasti;
then Ceres, the Greek Demeter under a familiar Italian name (B.C. 493);
next Fortuna with a statue (B.C. 486), an imported goddess, to whom
Servius Tullius, if tradition can be trusted, had already erected
temples. To this same age belongs probably the temple of Diana on the
Aventine, with a Greek ξόανον and the introduction of Apollo-worship as
a popular cult. If we follow the catalogue of dedications during the two
centuries following the abolition of the monarchy[1503], we find that
out of fourteen of which the dates are known to us, six are Greek or
Graeco-Etruscan, three more admit before long a non-Roman ritual under
the influence of the _duoviri sacris faciundis_, and five are known to
have contained statues from an early period. Only three, those of Dius
Fidius, of Juno Lucina, and of Mater Matuta, can be said to have been
genuine Roman foundations. Without doubt a great change is here
indicated which has come over the Roman religion, both in cult and
theology. New elements of population, new relations with conquerors or
conquered, new commercial enterprise, new experiences of war, famine,
and pestilence, bring in new deities, suggest recourse to new divine
aids. The old Rome is almost a thing of the past; the cults and deities
of the Numan period no longer suffice, and are perhaps already beginning
to be forgotten; the oldest priesthoods begin to give place in all
except empty externals to the semi-political colleges of pontifices and
augurs, and to the important new foundation of _duoviri sacris
faciundis_; the old Italian ritual of simple apparatus and detailed
ceremony is becoming overshadowed by the showy ceremonial of
lectisternia and supplicationes.
Was there no reaction, we may well ask, against a tendency so expansive
and denationalizing? I answer this question with hesitation, for so far
as I am aware it has never yet been fully investigated. But I am
strongly disposed to believe that there was such a reaction in the third
century B.C., in the period, that is, between the Samnite wars and
Hannibal’s invasion of Italy. This, unlike the preceding century, was a
period of almost uniform success of the Roman arms, and one in which the
State was at no time in serious peril; and the temptation to have
recourse to strange divinities, as a patient betakes himself to new
physicians, would not present itself to the minds of the senate or the
priesthoods. If we pursue the history of the temple-foundations of this
period, under Aust’s invaluable guidance, the result is very remarkable.
Between 304 and 217 B.C. we know the dates of twenty-five foundations;
and of these no less than twenty are in honour of indigenous, or at
least what I may perhaps call, home-made deities. No doubt there is a
growing tendency to identify Roman gods with Greek; but this does not
show itself plainly till the end of the century, and the only genuine
Greek foundation is that of Aesculapius, the consequence of a severe
pestilence in 293 B.C. Three or four, e. g. those of Fors Fortuna,
Minerva Capta, and Feronia, were probably of non-Roman origin; but they
were transplanted from the near neighbourhood of Rome and may almost
count as indigenous.
In contemplating the Roman foundations of this period we are struck by
certain indications of the activity of the _pontifices_, as
distinguished from the _duoviri sacris faciundis_; i. e. the activity of
that college of priests whose special charge was the Roman religion
proper, and who were only indirectly concerned with foreign
introductions. For example, we may note with interest a group of four
agricultural deities, to whom temples were dedicated in the eight years
between 272 and 264 B.C., the years, that is, of the pacification and
settlement of Italy after the invasion of Pyrrhus[1504]. These deities
were Consus, Tellus, Pales, and Vortumnus. Owing to the loss of Livy’s
second decade we cannot be very certain of the immediate object of these
foundations; but we may guess that they had a definite meaning in
connexion with the events of the time, and that they were chiefly the
work of the pontifical college. Less distinct perhaps, but still worth
noticing, is a group of foundations in honour of deities connected with
water[1505], i.e. to Tempestates, Juturna and Fons, which seem to have
had some reference to the naval operations of the First Punic War. The
temple of Juturna was vowed by Lutatius Catulus in the battle at the
Aegates Insulae in 241 B.C.; that to the Tempestates by Cornelius
Scipio, when the fleet was almost destroyed near Corsica in 259 B.C.;
and that of Fons in the Corsican war in 231 B.C. It was characteristic
of the Roman mind, and of the pontifical methods, thus to connect the
spirits of the springs in Rome with those of the sea and its tempests.
It is at this time also that we notice the appearance of abstractions
resolved into deities, such as Salus, Spes, Fides, Honos et Virtus,
Concordia, and Mens. These, as I have said elsewhere[1506], are not
genuine old Roman cults, but pontifical creations in the spirit of the
old Roman impersonal and daemonic ideas of divine agency. In connexion
with these I may mention the conviction which has grown upon me in the
course of these investigations, that it was in this reactionary period,
as we may call it, that the pontifices drew up that extraordinary list
of deities, classified according to their functions in relation to man
and his activity and suffering, which we know as the _Indigitamenta_.
This seems to me characteristic of the period, inasmuch as it was
probably based on the old Roman ideas of divine agency, now systematized
by something like scientific terminology and ordered classification. It
is the old national belief in the ubiquity of the world of spirits, now
edited and organized by skilled legal theologians. But it would be
beyond the province of this work to venture farther into this tangled
question.
From the Hannibalic war to the end of the Republic is the period of the
decay and downfall of the old Roman religion. This period need not
detain us long; it has been no part of my plan to exhibit this religion
on its death-bed, for the Fasti do not admit us to that scene. They show
us a living and genuine, not a spurious and enfeebled religious life. A
few salient facts shall suffice as illustrations of the slow process of
this dissolution.
At the very outset of the period we mark the solemn introduction into
Rome of Cybele, the Magna Mater Idaea, and the stone which was supposed
to represent her; and we are thus warned that even the Greek cults, with
all their adjuncts of art and mythology, are no longer sufficient for
Roman needs. The State is once more in peril, and the far-reaching
struggle with Hannibal has brought her into touch with new peoples and
cults. The Greeks do indeed continue to be the chief invaders of the
Roman religious territory, but the religion they bring with them is a
debased one. The extraordinary rapidity with which the orgiastic rites
of Dionysus spread over Italy in 186 B.C. proves at once that the
Italian religious forms were wearing out, and that the Greek substitute
was no longer a wholesome one[1507]. From this time forward the lower
strata of population show a tendency to run after exciting Oriental
forms of worship, which neither the attempted restoration of the old
religion by Augustus, nor the subsequent rapid growth of Christianity,
could entirely and permanently check. Among the educated classes the old
beliefs were being eaten away by the acids of a second-hand philosophy.
The Greeks had long begun to inquire into the nature of the gods, and
they passed on their disintegrating criticism to their conquerors.
Euhemerus, the arch-destroyer of ancient faiths, became known to the
Romans through a translation by Ennius at the beginning of the second
century B.C.; and it took only another century and a half to produce the
sceptical and eclectic treatise of Cicero, _De Natura Deorum_.
Again, nothing is more characteristic of this period than the contempt
and neglect into which the old priesthoods gradually fell; Rome now
swarmed with a mongrel population that knew little of them and cared
less. In the year 209 B.C. even the priesthood of Jupiter was filled by
the youthful black sheep of an old patrician family, apparently for no
other reason than the hope that so objectionable a character might be
reformed by the many quaint restrictions imposed upon the office[1508].
Of the flamines in general, of the Fratres Arvales, Salii, Sodales
Titii, and others of the ancient priesthoods we henceforward hear little
or nothing until the revival of learning and religion in the Augustan
age. Old forms continued to be used, but mainly for political purposes,
like the _obnuntiatio_ or observation of lightning; and only those
religious offices which had considerable political power continued to be
sought after by men of light and leading.
Temples continued to be vowed and built, especially in the earlier part
of this period; but their cults are, with few exceptions, of Greek
origin, or are new and fanciful forms of old worships, such as the Lares
Permarini, Venus Verticordia, Fortuna Equestris, Ops Opifera, Fortuna
Huiusce Diei. Before the fall of the Republic a great number of the old
temples had fallen almost irretrievably into decay; Augustus tells us in
his record of his own reign that he restored no less than eighty-two of
them. This too is the period when the identification of Roman gods with
Greek became a general fashion; a process which had begun long before,
but originally with a genuine meaning and object, not as the sport of a
sceptical society educated in Greek speculation. Salus takes the
attributes of Hygieia, Mater Matuta becomes Leucothea, Faunus Pan,
Sancus Hercules, Carmenta Nicostrate, Neptunus Poseidon, the god of
Soracte, Apollo Soranus; and even the greater gods like Mars, Diana, and
others assume more and more the likeness and mythical adornment of their
supposed Greek equivalents.
The civil troubles of the age of revolution completed the work of
disintegration. Men became careless, reckless, self-regarding; the
δεισιδαιμονία of which Polybius could say only just before the
revolution began, that more than anything else it served to knit the
Roman state together, was lost to view in the tumult of political
passion and personal greed. Not indeed that it was altogether extinct;
that could never be, and never has been the case in Italy. Augustus, who
came by degrees to know the people he governed better than any statesman
in Italian history, was well aware that to inspire the Roman world once
more with confidence, he must bring the religious instinct into play
again. The task he thus set himself he accomplished with extraordinary
skill and tact; the old religion seemed to live again, the old
priesthoods were revived, the old minutiae of worship were restored. He
did what he could to bring to life again even the spirit and the
principles of the old _religio_; and in the _Carmen Saeculare_ of
Horace, written to his order at a moment when he wished to make these
things obvious to the eyes of all Romans, we probably have the best
succinct exposition of them to be found in Roman literature[1509]. But
of the Augustan revival, and of the reasons why it could not be
permanent, I must forbear here to speak further.
* * * * *
I have yet to say a few words in answer to the interesting question
whether the religious system we have been examining had any appreciable
influence on the character of the Roman people: whether it contributed
to build up that _virtus_ of the State and the individual which enabled
them to subdue and govern the world, as the _pietas_ of Aeneas in the
poem armed him for the subjugation and civilization of the wild Italian
tribes. The question may at first sight seem a superfluous one, since
the religion of a people is rather the expression of its own genius for
dealing with the perplexities of human life, than a _vera causa_ in
determining its character; yet it is worth asking, for it is
unquestionable that the peculiar turn taken by a nation’s religious
beliefs and practices does in course of time come to react upon its
character and morals.
It has often been said of the Roman religion that it had nothing to do
with righteousness, and was without ethical value. The admirable
criticism of it given by Mommsen in the first volume of his History may
originally have suggested this view; but if so, the copyists have
exaggerated the opinion of the master in one particular point, failing
to give due weight to the general tenor of his exposition. However this
may be, we certainly are now always invited to conclude that this great
people, which in its dealings with human beings discovered an
extraordinary genius for expansion and adaptation, in its attitude to
the supernatural remained cooped up within curiously narrow mental
limits, drawing no real sustenance either from its primitive beliefs or
its quaint and detailed practice. The current views of this kind have
just lately been so well summed up in an admirable English work on the
latest age of Roman society and thought, that I cannot do better than
borrow a few sentences from it[1510]:—
‘The old Roman theology was a hard, narrow, unexpansive system of
abstraction and personification, which strove to represent in its
Pantheon the phenomena of nature, the relations of man in the State
or in the clan, every act and feeling and incident in the life of
the individual. Unlike the mythologies of Hellas and the East, it
had no native principle of growth, or adaptation to altered needs of
society and the individual imagination. It was also singularly
wanting in awe and mystery. The religious spirit which it cultivated
was formal, timid, and scrupulous.... The old Roman worship was
businesslike and utilitarian. The gods were partners in a contract
with their worshippers, and the ritual was characterized by the hard
and literal formalism of the legal system of Rome. The worshipper
performed his part to the letter with the scrupulous exactness
required in pleadings before the praetor. To allow devotional
feeling to transgress the bounds prescribed by immemorial custom was
“superstitio.”’
It is impossible to deny that there is much truth in all this; yet I may
venture to express a doubt whether it contains the whole truth. The fact
is that the subject needs a more historical treatment, and perhaps also
something of the historical imagination, to do it full justice.
In the earliest periods of Roman civilization, those of the family and
the beginnings of the State, the Roman attitude towards the supernatural
was, if I am not mistaken, a real contributing cause towards the
formation of _virtus_. It was not merely an attitude of business and
bargaining. So far as we know it, the common form of address to the gods
was not ‘send me what I want—sun, rain, victory, &c., and you shall then
have these gifts’; but ‘I give you these sacrifices and expect you to do
your part; in taking all this trouble to act correctly by you, I
establish a right as against you.’ It is true that in one particular
form of dealing with the gods, the vow, or solemn undertaking (_votum_),
the transaction wears more the character of a definite bargain; if the
god will do certain things, he shall then have his reward. So Cloanthus
in Virgil addresses the gods of the sea[1511]—
Di, quibus imperium est pelagi, quorum aequora curro,
Vobis laetus ego hoc candentem in litore taurum
Constituam ante aras, _voti reus_, extaque salsos
Proiciam in fluctus et vina liquentia fundam.
But the _votum_ was the exception, not the rule; it was a promise made
by an individual at some critical moment, not the ordered and recurring
ritual of the family or the State. It takes its peculiar form simply
because the maker of the vow is not at the particular moment in a
position to fulfil it. The normal attitude of the Roman in prayer and
sacrifice was not this; it is much more exactly expressed in the formula
of the farmer’s prayer already quoted in these pages: ‘Father Mars, I
pray and beseech thee be willing and propitious to me, my household, and
my slaves; for the which object I have caused this threefold sacrifice
to be driven round my farm and land.’ This is the usual and natural
attitude of all peoples in sacrificing to their gods, and is far from
being peculiar to Rome; but it was the nature of the Roman to express it
in a more formal and definite way than others, and this led to an
outward religion of formulae which has done much to obscure for us, as
indeed for the Romans themselves, the real thought underlying them.
These exact formulae of invocation and sacrifice were really the outward
expression of a fear of the unknown, and its power to hinder and injure
man; for the old Roman did not know his gods intimately, inasmuch as
they took no human shape, and did not dwell in buildings made by hands.
We have illustrated this ignorance of his again and again, and the
vagueness and fluidity of the religious conceptions of the Roman mind.
The remedy for this weakness was found, as with the Jews, in a
remarkable formularity of ritual, both as regards time, place, and
method of worship: in a series of elaborate prescriptions drawn up by
experts, going even so far as to anticipate the consequence of an
unintentional omission or error by piacular acts. This in time, and
under State organization, became a science, and finds its parallel in
the science of legal formulae. But there was a difference between the
two sciences, even for the Roman. In religious acts, the human mind is
dealing with the unseen and unknown, not with human beings who can be
calculated with or outwitted. His fear of the unknown was thus for the
primitive Roman a wholesome discipline; and his attitude towards it he
aptly and characteristically called _religio_, because it _bound_ him to
the performance of certain regulated duties, calculated to keep his
footsteps straight as he walked daily in this unseen world: duties which
even in the family and clan must have been to some extent systematized,
and which when the city-state was reached took the definite form of a
calendar of public prayers, sacrifices, and festivities.
Now surely in this motive of fear, thus remedied by exact ritual, we may
trace a true civilizing element—the idea of Duty, Pietas, which as
Cicero defined it, was ‘iustitia erga deos’: righteous dealing towards
the gods, in expectation of righteous treatment on their part. And he
would be a bold man who should assert that ‘iustitia erga deos’ had no
effect in inducing the habit of ‘iustitia erga homines’: in other words
that it could not react upon conduct. In the _pietas_ of the one typical
Roman in literature both these elements are equally present. The
_pietas_ of Aeneas is a sense of duty towards god and man alike; to his
father, his son, and his people, as well as to the will of the gods, and
to that solemn mission which is at once the religion of his life and the
key to the great Roman poem[1512]. This is indeed that same sense of
duty and responsibility which governed every Roman in authority in the
best days of the State, whether paterfamilias, patronus, priest, or
magistrate, and which was the motive power in the working of a
constitution which lasted for centuries though only resting on a basis
of trust. In this _pietas_, it is true, we find no sense of contrition
for sin, no humbling of the individual self before an almighty Governor
of the world; but we do find a very sensitive conscientiousness, arising
from the dread of neglect or trespass in the discharge of religious
observance, in the trust committed by family or State to its constituted
representative. And this trust included also the discharge of duties to
other men, the neglect of which might bring down the anger of the
Unknown, and even compel the surrender of a criminal as _sacer_ to an
offended deity. We find abundant evidence of this aspect of the
_religio_ in the language of solemn oaths and treaties, and especially
in connexion with the cult of the great Jupiter.
I maintain then that in this Roman religion, in spite of its dryness and
formality, there was a distinct ethical and civilizing element. And in
conclusion I may perhaps raise the question whether it was really, as
has been so often asserted, such a conception of the unseen as could
never admit of elevation and expansion. A religion, which in its best
and simplest forms, could bind men together in the orderly dutiful life
of family, gens, state, and federation, could hardly, if left to itself,
have speedily become an inanity, even though based on the motive of fear
rather than that of brotherly love. But this religion, as the State
became more fully matured, came under the influence of two retarding
causes. First, its ritual, always obnoxious to formularism, was
gradually deprived of its meaning by great priesthoods which from causes
which need not be here discussed became powerful political agencies.
Secondly, the contact with a mature system of polytheism, adorned and in
some sort materialized by art and literature, drew away the mind of the
simple and wondering Roman from the task of developing his religious
ideas in his own way. When a new world of thought broke on the
conquering Roman of the Republic, his own religious motives were already
drying up under the influence of a powerful State-organization. His
_pietas_ lived on after a fashion for centuries, but more and more it
lost that hold on the conscience, that appeal to trust and
responsibility, which had once promised it a vigorous life and growth.
While foreign gods and cults attracted his attention and admiration, or
appealed to his sense that there was no quarter from which supernatural
aid might not be called in for the advancement of his State, they failed
to bind his conscience with the wholesome motives which lay at the root
of his old native _religio_. And neither in the reaction of the fourth
century B.C., nor in the protests of an austere Cato in the second, nor
in the elaborate revival of Augustus, much less in any later effort of
philosopher or autocrat to return to the old ways, was any permanent
resuscitation of discipline or conduct possible. The problem of giving a
real religion to the world-state into which the Roman dominion had then
grown, was not to be solved either by Roman _pietas_ or Hellenic
polytheism.
Footnote 1502:
Tertullian, _de Praescriptionibus Haereticorum_, 40.
Footnote 1503:
Collected by Aust in his work _de Aedibus sacris_, pp. 4 foll.
Footnote 1504:
Aust, op. cit., p. 14, note 1.
Footnote 1505:
Above, p. 190.
Footnote 1506:
Aust, op. cit., p. 15, note 1.
Footnote 1507:
See especially the speech of the consul Postumius in Livy 39. 15.
Footnote 1508:
See a paper by the author in _Classical Review_, vol. vii. p. 193
foll.
Footnote 1509:
Note for example the way in which Horace has contrived to introduce in
combination the ideas of the fertility of crops and herbs, of marriage
and the increase of population, of public morality and prosperity.
Footnote 1510:
It gives me pleasure to quote this passage from _Roman Society in the
last century of the Western Empire_ (p. 63) by my old friend Professor
Dill.
Footnote 1511:
_Aen._ 5. 235.
Footnote 1512:
See Nettleship, _Essays in Latin Literature_, pp. 103, 104.
NOTES ON TWO COINS.
A. Denarius of P. Licinius Stolo (p. 42).
_Obv._ AVGVSTVS TR POT Augustus, laureate, on horse-back to r.
_Rev._ P. STOLO Helmet (apex) between two shields.
IIIVIR
[Illustration]
The forms of the helmet and shields are very archaic and interesting,
appearing to point to a very early period. The helmet bears a marked
likeness to that worn on Egyptian monuments by the Shardana, one of the
races that invaded Egypt about the thirteenth century B.C. The shield
seems to consist of two small round bosses connected by an oval boss. It
is strikingly like the Mycenaean shield as shown on a number of
monuments, and far earlier than the so-called Boeotian shield which was
common in Greece from the sixth century onwards. The Roman writers
themselves seem to have been puzzled by this shape (Marindin, article
‘Salii’ in Smith’s _Dict. Antiq._), and there can be little doubt that
it came down from a time when the ‘Mycenaean’ civilization was common to
Greece and Italy.
The figure on the coins of M. Sanquinius (Babelon, _Mon. de la Répub.
Rom._ ii. 417), who wears a horned helmet and long tunic and carries a
herald’s staff and round shield, has been identified by several
authorities as one of the Salii. This, however, is certainly wrong. Both
on this coin, and later coins of Domitian, the personage is closely
connected with the Ludi Saeculares. Dr. Dressel, in the _Ephem. Epigr._
viii. 314, maintains him to be a herald proclaiming the festival. This
would admirably suit the caduceus; but the decorations of the helmet
seem to me to be not plumes, as Dr. Dressel thinks, but horns, like
those on the headpiece of Juno Lanuvina. In any case the person is no
Salius.
B. DENARIUS OF L. CAESIUS (p. 101).
_Obv._ Youthful bust l., hair disordered, striking with thunderbolt.
Behind, a monogram.
[Illustration]
_Rev._ L. CAESI Two young male figures seated to r. Each has drapery
wrapped round waist, and grasps a spear. Between them, a dog, which one
of them caresses. In field, in monograms, LARE Above, head of Vulcan and
pinchers (moneyer’s mark). The monogram of the obverse was read by
Mommsen AP for Apollo; but the closed P was not at that time in use: the
interpretation of Montagu (_Numismatic Chronicle_, 1895, p. 162) as Roma
is therefore to be preferred. The head appears to be that of Vedius or
Vejovis, whose statue at Rome carried in the hand a sheaf of arrows,
which would naturally be confused with the Greek thunderbolt. Other
heads of Vejovis on Roman coins, as those of the Gens Fonteia, are more
Apolline in type, with long curls and laurel-wreath.
The two seated figures of the reverse are identified by the inscription
as Lares. They are clearly assimilated to the Greek Dioscuri, early
adopted at Rome. The dog, however, which sits between them is an
attribute properly belonging to them. Dr. Wissowa in Roscher’s _Lexicon_
(p. 1872) says that they are clad in dogs’ skins; this, however, is
certainly not the case, an ordinary cloak or chlamys falls over their
knees.
This representation of the Lares stands by itself, the deities are
frequently represented in later art, especially wall-paintings and
bronze statuettes, but their type is that of boys who hold cornucopiae
or drinking vessel, and are fully clad.
P. G.
INDEX OF SUBJECTS
Acca Larentia, 74, 93, 275, 276, 324.
Aedes Herculis: _see_ Forum Boarium.
Aedes Vestae: _see_ Vesta.
Aediles, plebeian, 75, 76, 92.
Aesculapius, 105, 191, 278;
connexion with Vediovis, 122, 278;
temple, 278, 340.
Agonia: December, 265, 281;
January, 277, 280-2;
March, 54, 281;
May, 121, 281.
Agonus (or Agonalis), 323.
Agriculture: festivals, 3, 71, 79-82, 85-8, 88-91, 113-4, 124-8,
145-54, 204-6, 206-9, 212-4, 256-8, 268-73, 324-7, 335.
Alban Mount: Feriae Latinae held at, 95, 97, 227-8;
temple of Jupiter Latiaris, 95-6, 228.
Ambarvalia, 114, 124-8, 154.
Ancilia, 38-9, 41-3, 45-6, 250;
lustration, 57-9, 248, 250;
moving, 39, 41, 43-4, 115
Ancillarum Feriae, 176-8.
Angerona, 274-5;
goddess of Divalia, 274, 336.
Anna Perenna: festival, 44, 50-1, 53, 163;
legends, 51-4, 60;
popularity with lower classes, 44, 50-1;
representative of year, 52-3.
Aphrodite: connexion with Venus, 69, 86.
Aplu, 181.
Apollo, 89, 191, 250;
comparison with Mars, 39-40;
connexion with Aesculapius, 278;
with Vediovis, 122, 181, 225, 278;
coupled with Latona, 181, 186, 200;
festivals, 173, 179-81;
functions, 180, 278;
Medicus, 180;
restoration of worship by Augustus, 180 (n. 4), 181-2;
Soranus, 84, 181;
temples, 180, 182;
worship, 117, 179-82, 339.
April: character, 6, 9, 33, 66-7;
connexion with Venus, 67, 69;
festivals, 66-97;
origin of name, 6, 33, 66;
prevalence of female deities, 67.
Ara Maxima: _see_ Circus Maximus.
Argei: _see also_ Sacella Argeorum, 150, 151;
explanations of custom, 114, 116-20;
mourning of Flaminica Dialis, 112, 115, 119, 151;
origin of name, 112-3; 118-9;
puppets thrown into Tiber, 52, 57, 100, 111-20;
substitution for human victims, 112, 115, 116-7, 119.
Armilustrium, 45, 58, 249, 250-1.
Army: importance of curiae, 303, 305;
mustering, 133.
Artemis, 200.
Asylum, 122, 183 (n. 3), 327;
connexion with Vediovis, 122.
Attalus, King of Pergamus, 69.
August: character, 189-90;
festivals, 189-214.
Augustus, revival of religion, 19, 181-2, 190, 280, 342, 343-4, 349.
Aventine: plebeian quarter, 75-6, 199;
temples, 59, 74-6, 101-5, 158, 198-200, 201, 206, 232, 267, 339.
Beans: harvest, 130, 255;
use as food, 132-3;
use in ritual, 83, 109-10, 131;
religious character, 91, 110, 130-1.
Beating bounds, _see_ Lustrations;
productive of fertility, 104, 178-9, 262, 302, 311, 315, 318-21.
Bellona, 134-5.
Birds: used in augury, 139-40.
Bona Dea, 95;
connexion with Damia, 105-6;
with Maia, 99, 100, 123, 210;
earth goddess, 71, 103, 104, 106;
functions, 104-5, 106;
men excluded from worship, 102-3, 142, 256;
myrtle not allowed in temple, 103-4;
temple, 101-5;
women’s sacrifice, 255-6;
worship, 102-6, 150.
Bouphonia, 176, 329.
Brutus, M. Junius, 130.
Caesar (Julius): birthday, 174;
calendar, 4, 5-6, 11, 14-5.
Cakes: _see also_ Salt-cake;
heads of animals decked with, 148, 242, 244;
sacrifices, 53-5, 155, 161, 295, 304.
Calendar: _see also_ Year, 248-50;
authorities on, 13-4, 16-9;
divergences, 36, 45, 241, 265-6;
Julian: _see_ Caesar;
marks of days, 8-10;
republican, 14-20;
secrecy, 8-9, 11;
surviving, 5-6, 11-4.
Campus Martius, 247-8;
festivals, 50-1;
races, 44-5, 208, 242, 249, 330;
sacrifice of October-horse, 241-3, 247-9.
Capitolium, 129-30, 327;
connexion with Saturnus, 269-70;
temples, 43, 85, 129-30, 145, 157-8, 214, 216-7, 229, 291, 293,
326-7.
Caprotinae, Nonae: _see_ Nones.
Cardea: confusion with Carna, 131-2.
Caristia, 308-9.
Carmenta, 167, 291-3;
festival, 277, 290-3;
temple, 291, 293.
Carmentalia, 15, 277, 290-3.
Carmentes: _see_ Carmenta.
Carna, 130;
confusion with Cardea, 131-2;
festival, 130-3.
Castor and Pollux: _see_ Dioscuri.
Cerealia, 15, 72-3, 77-9, 92;
foxes loosed in Circus Maximus, 77-9, 94;
plebeian character, 70, 77, 92.
Ceres, 73-4, 295, 338;
connexion with Demeter, 73, 74, 181;
with plebeians, 74-7, 92;
festival, 72-3, 77-9, 92, 294-6;
goddess of crops, 67, 71, 73, 126;
Greek influence on, 73, 75-6, 105;
sacrifices, 103, 105, 295;
temple, 74-6, 92.
Cernunnos: identification with Janus, 286.
Character of Romans, 65;
influence of religion on, 344-9.
Charlton-on-Otmoor: lustration of fields, 128, 246.
Circus Flaminius: games, 217, 252, 253;
temples, 134, 135, 180, 202, 211.
Circus Maximus, 190;
altar of Consus, 178, 190, 206-7, 209;
Ara Maxima, 138, 189, 190, 193-7;
festivals, 77-8, 94;
races, 208;
temples, 92, 160, 202, 204.
Cnaeus Flavius, 11.
Coins, 350-2;
heads on, 286-7, 351.
Comitia Curiata: meetings, 63, 64, 123, 305.
Comitium, 57-8.
Compitalia, 255, 277, 279-80, 294, 335, 338.
Consualia, 115, 178, 189, 206-9, 290;
Vestal Virgins present, 115, 150;
winter, 267-8.
Consuls: connexion with Feriae Latinae, 95, 96;
entrance on office, 5, 95, 190, 278;
laying down of office, 216.
Consus, 324, 338;
altar in Circus Maximus, 178, 190, 206-7, 209;
connexion with horses, 207-8;
with Ops, 212-3;
festivals, 115, 178, 206-9, 267-8;
temple, 206, 267.
Corn: supply, 76;
trade, 121;
wolf: _see_ Corn-spirit.
Corn-spirit: animal representation, 78, 83, 90-1, 94, 244-5, 264;
death and renewal of life, 83, 118, 246-7, 316-7;
human representation, 177, 245;
races in rites, 245-6, 330;
rites to aid growth of corn, 41, 83-4;
rites to propitiate, 90-1, 244-8.
Creek Indians: festivals of first-fruits, 152-3.
Cross-roads, 279-80.
Curiae, 16, 71, 303-4;
festivals, 71-2, 219, 302-6, 335;
flamen, 304.
Curio Maximus, 303-4.
Curis, 303.
Damia: connexion with Bona Dea, 105-6.
Days: calendar marks in, 8-10;
market, 8;
number in months, 2-3.
Dead: ancestor worship, 161, 275-6, 300, 308-9;
burial, 108, 109, 307;
cult chiefly in February, 3, 6, 33, 107, 299, 300;
festivals, 106-10, 131, 275-6, 306-10;
offerings, 308;
spirits: _see_ Ghosts.
Dea Dia, 71, 105;
centre of ritual of Fratres Arvales, 74, 105;
connexion with Ceres, 74.
December, 7;
character, 255;
festivals, 33, 255-76.
Deities: abstractions resolved into, 190-1, 341;
chthonic, 207, 210, 211-2;
dualism of male and female, 61-2, 212-3, 221;
female, 67, 71, 74, 106;
fluctuation between male and female, 67, 73, 80, 232-3;
images: _see_ Images;
impersonality, 106, 137, 139, 213, 221-2, 295, 311, 337;
multiplicity, 144, 167, 241, 259-60, 291-3, 337;
prayers: _see_ Prayers;
symbols, 122, 139, 161, 169, 170, 230, 235;
women’s: _see_ Women.
Delphi: Roman dealings with, 181.
Demeter, 103, 110;
connexion with Ceres, 73, 74, 181.
Demons: _see_ Evil spirits.
Diana: connexion with Artemis, 200;
coupled with Hercules, 181, 186;
festival, 198-200;
functions, 198, 200-1;
Nemorensis, 183;
temples, 198-200, 339.
Dionysus: connexion with Liber, 54-5, 74, 88;
introduction of cult into Italy, 88, 342;
sacrifice at Tenedos, 329.
Dioscuri, 296-7, 351;
temples, 202, 296.
Dis Pater, 120, 212, 269.
Dius Fidius, 327;
antiquity, 135-6;
connexion with Genius Jovis, 142-5;
with Hercules, 137-9, 142-4;
with Jupiter, 138-41, 221;
with Semo Sancus, 136-8, 144;
temple, 135, 136, 141.
Divalia, 274-5.
Dogs: connexion with Lares praestites, 101, 351-2;
sacrifices, 89-91, 101, 209, 311, 312, 314.
Earth: deities, 67, 71, 74, 103, 104, 106, 256, 294-5;
spiritualized as feminine, 103, 106.
Epulum Jovis: _see_ Jupiter.
Equirria, 44-6, 330-1.
Esquiline: cults, 228;
divisions, 266;
temples, 38.
Etruscans: influence on Roman religion, 171-2, 185-6, 200, 219-20,
222-3, 229, 234-5, 338-40;
trias, 218, 220, 229, 235, 239.
Evil spirits: expulsion, 40-1, 43, 107;
human scapegoat, 40-1, 46-9.
Fairs, 253.
Fasti: _see_ Calendar;
Ovid’s, _see_ Ovid.
Fauna, 103.
Faunalia, 255, 256-8.
Faunus, 103, 257-8;
connexion with Lupercalia, 257-8, 262, 312-3;
with Pan, 258, 259, 313;
derivation of name, 258-9;
festival, 256-8;
functions, 80, 261-3, 278;
multiplicity, 259-60, 313;
origin, 257-8, 259, 261, 263-5;
temples, 257-8, 278, 302;
woodland character, 260-1.
Favonius, 258, 259, 264;
Feb. 7th, 277, 299.
February, 3, 4, 6, 7;
character, 6, 66, 299;
festivals, 3, 6, 33, 298-331;
origin of name, 6, 298.
Feralia, 10, 107, 306, 309-10.
Feretrius: _see_ Jupiter.
Feriae Latinae, 95-7, 227-8, 335.
Feriae Sementivae, 294-6.
Feronia, 199, 252-4;
temple, 253.
Fertility: customs to produce, 94-5, 104, 178-9, 262, 302, 311, 315,
318-21.
Festivals, 15, 18-9, 44, 336;
agricultural, 3, 71, 79-82, 85-8, 88-91, 113-4, 124-8, 145-54, 204-6,
206-9, 212-4, 256-8, 268-73, 324-7, 335;
of curiae, 16, 71-2, 219, 302-6, 335;
domestic, 107, 306-10;
harvest, 124-8, 145-54, 189-90, 195-6, 207-9, 212-4, 243-4, 294-6;
marked in calendars, 15-6;
men’s, 102-3, 142, 194;
of montes, 16, 265-7, 335;
moveable, 15, 95, 124, 255-6, 277, 279, 294, 303;
pagi, 16, 257, 294-6, 335;
pastoral, 96-7;
patrician, 68 (n. 2), 70;
plebeian, 44, 50-1, 68, 70, 92, 163, 171, 253;
of sacella, 16, 111-20, 335;
survival of, 127-8, 312, 321;
times of, 7, 59, 70, 169-70, 174, 189, 256, 290;
transition from rustic to urban: _see_ Religion;
women’s, 38, 67-8, 102-3, 142, 148, 154-6, 178-9, 255-6, 291.
Fetiales, 230-1;
declaration of war, 134, 230;
lapis silex, 230-1.
Fidenates: legends about, 174, 175, 177, 178.
Fides, 237;
festival, 237-8.
Fig-tree of Rumina, 310, 334.
Fire: deities, 189, 209-10;
sacred fire of Vesta: _see_ Vesta.
Firstfruits: gathering, 151-3;
offering, 195, 211-2.
Fisovius Sancius: _see_ Fisus.
Fisus, 137, 139.
Flamines, 35, 288, 335, 342-3;
antiquity of deity proved by, 92, 187, 201, 237;
Flamen Carmentalis, 292;
Flamen curiae, 304;
Flamen Dialis, 86-8, 204, 221, 313;
Flamen Floralis, 92;
Flamen Furinalis, 187;
Flamen Martialis, 237, 323;
Flamen Palatualis, 267;
Flamen Pomonalis, 201;
Flamen Portunalis, 202;
Flamen Quirinalis, 89, 209, 237, 276, 333, 334;
Flamen Volcanalis, 123, 210;
Flamen Volturnalis, 214;
Flaminica Dialis, 56 (n. 5), 112, 115, 146, 149, 151, 153, 221;
representative of sons of the family, 36, 147, 288, 334.
Flora, 92-3, 240, 324;
festivals, 91-5
functions, 67, 93, 94;
temples, 92, 202, 324.
Floralia, 91-5;
hares and goats loosed in Circus Maximus, 94.
Fons (or Fontus), 240-1, 258;
temple, 341.
Fontinalia, 240-1.
Fordicidia, 71-2, 83, 243;
character, 66, 115, 150;
share of Vestal Virgins in, 71, 83, 115, 150.
Fornacalia, 302-6, 335.
Fors Fortuna: _see_ Fortuna.
Fortuna, 67;
connexion with Jupiter, 166, 168, 223-5;
with Nortia, 171-2;
with Servius Tullius, 68, 156-7, 162, 171-2;
explained as dawn-goddess, 164-6;
explained as moon-goddess, 168-9;
explained as sun-goddess, 168-71;
festivals, 67-9; 161-72;
Fors, 124, 161-3, 340;
functions, 167-8, 170-1;
_huiusce diei_, 164-5, 343;
origin of name, 163-4, 166-7;
Primigenia, 72, 124, 165-6, 167-8, 223-4, 254;
statues, 156-7, 339;
symbols, 169, 170-1;
temples, 68, 72, 124, 156-7, 161-2, 166, 339, 343;
Virilis, 68;
women especially worship, 167-8;
worshipped at Praeneste, 72, 124, 166, 168, 223.
Forum: meeting of curiae in, 305, 306;
temples, 271, 273-4, 296, 339.
Forum Boarium: Aedes Herculis, 193;
temples, 154, 156-7, 339.
Forum Olitorium: temple, 302.
Foxes, 78;
loosed at Cerealia, 77-9; 94.
Fratres Arvales, 42;
Acta Fratrum Arvalium, 17, 125;
calendar, 12;
decline of, 184-5, 343;
ritual of, 48, 74, 92-3, 105, 125, 127, 136, 240-1, 271, 282.
Freedwomen: worship of Feronia, 253.
Furiae: confusion with Furrina, 187, 188.
Furrina (or Furina), 187-8.
Furrinalia, 173, 187-8.
Gaia Caecilia, 141.
Games (ludi), 15, 50;
Apollinares, 173, 179-80;
Cereales, 72-3;
compitales, 279-80;
Florae, 91-5;
horse races, 44-5, 58, 91, 180, 208, 242, 245-6, 248-9;
Megalesiaci, 69-71;
plebeii, 180, 217, 252, 253;
Romani, 215, 216-7, 252;
saeculares, 182.
Gates: _see_ Porta.
Geese: sacred to Juno, 129-30.
Genita Mana. 101.
Ghosts: purification of house from, 100, 109-10, 131;
classification of, 108-9.
Gods: _see_ Deities.
Guilds, 62, 121;
tibicines, 157-8.
Harawara, 84.
Hares: loosed at Floralia, 94.
Harvest, 154, 189;
customs, 177-8, 245-6;
festivals, 124-8, 153-4, 189-90, 195-6, 207-9.
Healing deities, 104-5, 180, 191, 278.
Heimdal: equation with Janus, 286.
Hephaestus, 123.
Hercules: connexion with Dius Fidius or Semo Sancus, 137-9, 142-4;
with Genius, 143-4, 194-5, 196, 337;
with Juno, 142-4;
with Mars, 194-5, 196;
coupled with Diana, 181, 186;
Invictus, 201;
legends, 102, 112, 138, 193, 196-7;
representative of male principle, 103, 143, 194;
temples, 135, 201;
Victor, 138;
worship, 193-7;
worship confined to men, 102, 103, 142, 194.
Hermes, 120-1;
connexion with Mercury, 121, 186.
Hirpi Sorani: rites at Soracte, 84, 317.
Horatius: legend, 238-9.
Horses: connexion of Consus with, 207-8;
of Mars with, 330;
decked with flowers, 207-8;
heads decked with cakes, 242, 244.
Horta Quirini, 324.
Ides, 8;
sacred to Jupiter, 8, 10, 120, 157, 198, 215, 241.
Iguvium: inscription found at, 17, 114, 127, 137, 139, 176, 221.
Images and statues of gods, 81, 141, 156-7, 200, 201, 218, 228, 239.
Indigitamenta, 71, 191, 192, 274, 341.
Indigites, 192.
Inuus, 312-3.
Isis worship, 252.
January, 5-7;
character, 6, 33, 277;
consuls enter office in, 5, 95, 278;
festivals, 6, 277-97;
origin of name, 6, 7, 33, 99.
Janus, 270;
connexion with Cardea, 131-2;
with January, 6, 33, 99;
with Saturnus, 270;
with tigillum sororium, 238-9;
with Vesta, 282-3, 287-8, 334-5;
cult-titles, 289-90;
geminus, 286;
god of entrances, 282-3, 286-9, 335, 337;
origin of cult, 282-9;
Rex sacrorum connected with worship of, 282, 288, 334-5;
temples, 204, 270.
July, 2, 3, 173;
festivals, 174-88.
June: character, 6, 33;
festivals, 130-72;
origin of name, 6, 99-100, 129-30.
Juno, 312;
Caprotina, 178;
connexion with Bona Dea, 142;
with Hercules, 142-4;
with June, 99-100, 129;
with Jupiter, 134, 218, 221, 223-5;
with Mars, 37-8, 133-4;
with tigillum sororium, 238-9;
cult at Praeneste, 166, 224;
Curitis, 223, 239;
festivals, 174, 178-9;
Kalends sacred to, 8, 38, 129, 239, 241;
Lucina, 38, 105, 156;
Moneta, 129-30;
one of Etruscan trias, 218, 220, 229, 235, 339;
representative of female principle, 38, 141, 143, 178, 221, 321 (n.
1), 337;
Sospita, 302;
temples, 38, 157-8, 215, 216-7, 302, 326-7.
Jupiter, 97, 220-1, 313;
Capitolinus, 97, 158;
cella Jovis, 217;
connexion with Dius Fidius or Semo Sancus, 138-41, 221;
with Fortuna, 166, 168, 223-5;
with Juno, 134, 218, 221, 223-5;
with Mercurius, 120;
with Terminus, 326-7;
with wine, 55, 88, 240;
Elicius, 232, 233;
epulum Jovis, 215, 216, 217-20, 233-4, 253;
Fagutalis, 228;
Feretrius, 229-30, 232, 334;
festivals, 85-8, 157-9, 174, 216-20, 275, 338;
Fulgur, 239;
functions, 55, 88, 97, 141, 222, 229-30, 232, 326;
Ides sacred to, 8, 10, 120, 157, 198, 215, 241;
Indiges, 192;
Invictus, 158;
Latiaris, 97, 198, 227-8;
Liber, 55, 88;
Lucetius, 222;
one of Etruscan trias, 218, 220, 229, 235, 339;
Puer, cult at Praeneste, 166, 224-7;
stones connected with, 230-3, 234;
temples, 95-6, 157-8, 215, 216-7, 228, 229, 232, 326-7, 339;
Viminius, 229;
worship in groves, 183, 227;
worship in Italy, 221-3;
worship on hills, 95, 222, 227, 234.
Juturna, 293;
temple, 341.
Kalends, 8;
sacred to Juno, 8, 38, 129, 239, 241.
Kings, 36, 63, 282;
represented by Pontifex Maximus, 147, 288;
represented by Rex sacrorum, 8, 213, 282, 288.
Lapis: _see_ Stones.
Larentalia, 275-6.
Larentia: _see_ Acca Larentia.
Lares, 136, 309, 337;
compitales or domestici, 101, 338;
praestites, 100-1, 335.
Latin Festival: _see_ Feriae Latinae.
Latins, common worship of Romans and, 95-7, 198-9, 335.
Latona, coupled with Apollo, 181, 186, 200.
Laurel, 83;
sacred to Mars, 35-6.
Lectisternium, 180-1, 186, 200, 273;
connexion with epulum Jovis, 218.
Lemuria, 100, 106-10, 131, 174, 290.
Leucothea, 154.
Liber, 312, 338;
connexion with Dionysus, 54-5, 74, 88.
Libera, 74.
Liberalia, 54-6;
cakes used at, 53-4, 55.
Litania Maior, 91, 127.
Lucaria, 15 (n. 1), 173, 174, 182-5, 186-7.
Luceres, 185.
Ludi: _see_ Games.
Lupercal, 310-1, 318.
Lupercalia, 298, 299, 310-21;
deity of, 257-8, 262, 312-3;
sacrifices at, 101, 311, 312-4;
salt-cake used, 110, 115, 311;
whipping to produce fertility, 104, 179, 262, 302, 311, 315, 318-21.
Luperci, 311, 312-3, 319-20;
derivation of name, 311, 317.
Lupercus, 311, 312.
Lupines, 94.
Lustrations, 68, 83-5, 298;
aedes Vestae, 148-9, 151-4;
Argei, 100, 113-4, 115, 119;
arms, 58-9, 248-9, 250-1;
bound-beating, 114, 125-8, 304, 319;
crops, 100, 114, 124-8, 154;
ghosts, 100;
Lupercalia, 315-6, 319-21;
people, 175-6;
processions, 111, 113-4, 125-6, 335;
rites, 299-302;
sheep, 81;
shields, 58-9, 248, 250;
trumpets, 63-4, 123.
Magna Mater Idaea: festival, 67, 69-71;
introduction into Rome, 67, 69-70, 102, 342;
stone representing, 69-70, 342;
temple, 70.
Maia, 98-100;
connexion with Bona Dea, 99, 100, 123, 129;
with Mercurius, 98-9, 120;
with Volcanus, 123, 210.
Mamuralia, 45-50.
Mamurius: expulsion of Mamurius Veturius, 40-1, 46-9;
festival, 44-50;
smith, 39, 45-6;
variant for Mars, 39, 41, 45.
Manes, 108, 300, 308.
March, 2, 3;
beginning of year, 5, 33, 38;
connexion with Mars, 33-5, 48, 64-5, 99;
festivals, 5, 35-65;
New Year’s Day, 5, 35-43, 278;
origin of name, 33, 99.
Marcus Fulvius Nobilior, 11.
Market days, 8.
Marriages, 293;
customs, 142;
ill-omened in March and May, 60, 67, 100, 109, 293;
prohibited, 146, 308.
Mars, 53, 60, 313;
birthday, 5, 36-8, 60;
comparison with Apollo, 39-40;
connexion with Hercules, 194-5, 196;
with Juno, 37-8, 133-4;
with March, 33-5, 48, 64-5, 99;
with Minerva, 53, 59-60, 62;
with Nerio, 60-2, 186;
with Quirinus, 322-3;
with Robigus, 89, 324;
with Romulus, 33, 37 (n. 3);
with Silvanus, 55, 194;
festivals, 44-6, 57-63, 123, 241-50, 290, 313, 330-1;
functions, 34-5, 41, 43, 64-5, 89, 248-9, 250, 262;
god of powers of vegetation and reproduction, 34-5; 41, 48-9, 64,
126-7, 196;
Greek influence, 35, 37;
laurel sacred to, 35-6;
origin, 34-5, 64;
priests: _see_ Salii;
Sacrarium Martis, 39, 44, 324, 335;
shields: _see_ Ancilia;
temples, 133-4, 232;
war-god, 126, 207, 248, 249.
Mater Larum, 240.
Mater Matuta, 154-6, 165.
Matralia, 154-6, 165.
Matronalia, 38.
May, 2, 3;
character, 6, 33, 100;
festivals, 33, 98-128;
origin of name, 6, 33, 98-100.
Meals: _see also_ Epulum Jovis;
sacrificial, 81, 96-7, 194, 218-20, 308, 309.
Meditrinalia, 236, 239-40.
Megalesia, 69-71.
Men: exclusion from cults, 102-3, 142, 256;
oaths of, 138-9, 142.
Mens, 145.
Mercurius: connexion with Hermes, 121, 186;
with Jupiter, 120;
with Maia, 98-9, 120;
coupled with Neptunus, 181, 186;
god of trade, 121;
temples, 121, 339.
Mildew: _see_ Rust.
Minerva: connexion with Mars, 53, 59-60, 62;
with Nerio, 59-62;
festivals, 59, 62, 158;
goddess of trumpet players, 62, 158;
nail driven into cella of, 234-5;
one of Etruscan trias, 218, 220, 229, 235, 339;
temples, 59, 157-8, 215, 216-7, 326-7, 339.
Mola salsa: _see_ Salt-cake.
Montes, 266-7;
festivals of, 16, 265-7, 335.
Months, 5-7, 33-4;
divisions, 7-8;
lunar, 7;
names, 5-7, 33-4, 99-100;
number of days, 2-3;
solar, 1.
Mundus, 211-2;
open, 211-2, 239, 252.
Myrtle, 68;
excluded from temple of Bona Dea, 103-4.
Nails driven into temples, 172, 217, 234-5.
Nemesis, 170.
Neptunalia, 173, 185-7.
Neptunus, 185-7;
connexion with Poseidon, 185, 186, 187;
with Salacia, 186;
coupled with Mercurius, 181, 186;
functions, 185, 187.
Nerio, 134-5;
connexion with Mars, 60-2, 186;
with Minerva, 59-62.
Nerthus, 117.
New Year: _see_ March.
Nones, 7, 8;
Nonae Caprotinae, 174, 175, 178-9.
Nortia, 235;
connexion with Fortuna, 171-2.
November: character, 252;
festivals, 252-4.
Numa: connexion with calendar, 4, 335-6;
legends, 262-3, 278.
Numbers: lucky and unlucky, 3.
Oak of Jupiter Feretrius, 229, 232, 334.
Oaths, 138-9, 142, 231, 297, 327;
Jupiter’s connexion with, 139, 229-30, 326;
taken at Ara Maxima, 138-9.
Octaeteris cycle, 2-3.
October, 2, 3;
character, 236-7;
festivals, 237-51.
October-horse, 45, 58, 241-50;
blood kept by Vestal Virgins, 83, 150, 243, 247;
corn-spirit represented by, 83, 244-8;
races, 45, 58, 242, 245-6;
sacrifice of, 83, 241-2.
Opalia, 255, 273-4.
Opeconsivia, 115, 150, 189, 212-4, 290.
Ops, 74, 338;
connexion with Consus, 212-3;
with Saturnus, 212, 273-4;
Consiva, 212;
festival, 115, 150, 212-4, 273-4;
Opifera, 210;
temple, 273-4.
Oracles: Faunus, 262-3.
Oscilla: _see_ Puppets.
Ovid: Fasti, 6-7, 13, 14, 36-7, 173, 236-7.
Paganalia, 16, 294-6, 335, 338.
Pagus, 257, 294, 335;
festivals, 16, 257, 294-6, 335, 338.
Palatine: divisions, 266;
Lupercal: _see_ Lupercal;
mundus: _see_ Mundus;
rites celebrated, 276, 310-2, 318-9;
temples, 70, 180 (n. 4), 182;
union with Subura, 247.
Palatua, 267.
Pales, 67, 80, 267;
festival, 79-85;
offerings, 81, 103.
Pan: connexion with Faunus, 258, 259, 313.
Parentalia, 210, 276, 299, 300, 306-10, 335.
Parilia, 66, 79-85, 110, 243, 247;
character, 66, 115, 150;
share of Vestal Virgins in, 71, 83, 115.
Penates, 337.
Persephone, 75.
Picumnus, 201.
Pinarii, 193.
Plebeians: festivals, 44, 50-1, 68, 70, 92, 163, 171, 253;
quarter, 75, 77;
secession, 53, 75-7;
temples, 75-6, 92, 199.
Pomona, 201.
Pons sublicius, Argei thrown from, 112, 113-4.
Pontifices, 114;
decline, 342-3;
growing importance, 339-41;
influence on religion, 190-1, 192, 213, 214, 257-8, 341;
Pontifex Maximus, 147, 288;
priestesses, 105-6;
share in festivals, 112, 114, 276.
Poplifugia, 7, 15 (n. 1), 173, 174-6, 179, 183, 328.
Porta: Agonensis, 281;
Capena, 133, 232;
Carmentalis, 180 (n. 3), 290, 291, 293;
Fontinalis, 240;
Sanqualis, 135, 140;
Trigemina, 201.
Portunalia, 189, 202-4.
Portunus, 202-4, 214,
Poseidon: connexion, with Neptunus, 185, 186, 187;
Hippios, 208.
Potitii, 193.
Praeneste, 254;
cult of Fortuna, 72, 124, 166, 168, 223-4, 254;
cult of Jupiter Puer, 166, 224-7;
foreign influence, 166, 227.
Prayers, 81-2, 89-90, 126-7, 133, 155, 184, 191, 295, 308, 346.
Presents given at festivals, 38, 272, 278.
Priests: _see_ Pontifices.
Primigenia: _see_ Fortuna.
Proserpina, 212.
Prostitutes, festival of, 93.
Punic Wars, 19, 69-71, 179;
institution of festivals and temples due to, 19, 69, 179, 341, 342.
Puppets: Argei thrown into Tiber, 111-20;
oscilla hung on trees, 96, 116, 296.
Purification: _see_ Lustration.
Pythagoreans, 110.
Quinctilis: see July.
Quinquatrus, 45, 57-62, 290;
minusculae, 157-9.
Quirinal, 237, 281, 322;
cults, 229, 322-4;
temples, 124, 135, 136, 141, 190-1, 322, 324.
Quirinalia, 304-5, 322-4.
Quirinus, 305, 322-4;
temples, 191, 322, 323.
Quirites, 322.
Races: _see_ Games.
Regia, 190, 213, 220, 282, 335;
laurel fixed on, 5, 35;
sacrarium Martis in, 39, 44, 324, 335;
sacrarium Opis in, 213.
Regifugium, 174, 327-30, 331.
Religion, 18-20;
authorities, 332-3;
based on cult, 20, 333-4;
daemonistic character, 74, 106, 137, 139, 213, 221-2, 226-7, 232-3,
295, 313;
decline, 341-3;
Etruscan influence, 171-2, 219-20, 229, 234-5;
Graeco-Etruscan influence, 185-6, 211-2, 223, 338-40;
Greek influence, 191, 194, 200, 218, 226-7, 268-9, 273, 342, 343;
influence on character, 344-9;
Oriental influence, 19, 252;
pontifices’ influence, 190-1, 192, 213, 214, 257-8, 341;
reaction against foreign influence, 340-1, 349;
representative of stages of growth, 334-8;
revival by Augustus: _see_ Augustus;
transition from aniconic to iconic, 219-20, 229, 233-4;
transition from rustic to urban, 90, 91, 103, 195-6, 248-50, 257-8,
279-80, 294.
Reproduction, spirit: _see_ Corn-spirit.
Rex sacrorum, 8, 335;
connexion with Janus worship, 282, 288, 334-5;
representative of king, 8, 213, 282, 288;
representative of head of household, 213, 282, 288, 334.
Robigalia, 66, 88-91.
Robigus, 324, 338;
connexion with Mars, 89, 324;
festival, 88-91.
Romulus, 4;
connexion with Mars, 33, 37 (n. 3);
with Quirinus, 322;
legends, 175-6, 229, 310.
Rust, red, 88-9, 91.
Sabine women, legend, 178, 208-9.
Sacella Argeorum, 16, 56-7, 111-2, 335;
procession round, 56, 111, 113-4, 335.
Sacrifices, 51, 54, 56, 62, 86, 209, 267, 313-4;
bean meal and lard, 130, 133;
boar, 210;
bull, 126;
cakes, 53-5, 155, 161, 295, 304;
cereals, 292-3;
cheese, 96, 228;
cow, 71;
dog, 89-91, 101, 209, 311, 312, 314;
fig-tree, 178;
fish, 209-10;
flight after, 176, 328, 329-30;
goat, 122, 311, 312, 314;
heifer, 96, 179, 193, 217, 228;
honey, 309, 325;
horse, 241-2;
human, relics of, 112, 115, 116-7, 119, 315;
kid, 257;
lamb, 64, 105, 325;
milk, 81, 96, 103, 228, 309;
millet, 81;
oil, 309;
pig, 105, 126, 256, 272, 325;
procession of victims, 126;
ram, 282;
red calf, 210;
sacrificial meal, 81, 96-7, 194, 228;
salt-cake (mola salsa), 110, 115, 148, 311;
sheep, 89, 96, 126;
sow, 295;
water, 309;
wine, 87, 103, 257, 309, 325.
Salacia, 186.
Salii, 36, 39-43, 58, 194, 250, 331, 334;
Agonenses, 41, 54, 281, 323;
Carmen Saliare, 39, 41, 45, 49, 289;
Collini, 41, 54, 320, 323;
mansiones Saliorum, 41, 44;
number, 41, 42;
Palatini, 41, 320, 323;
shields: _see_ Ancilia;
skins worn by, 47-8, 49-50.
Salt-cake (mola salsa): made by Vestal Virgins, 110-1, 115, 148, 149,
153, 205, 311;
used at Ides of September, 110, 115, 311;
used at Lupercalia, 110, 115, 311;
used at Vestalia, 110, 115, 148, 311.
Salus, 190-1, 343.
Sancus: _see_ Semo Sancus.
Saturnalia, 15, 177, 255, 268-73, 335.
Saturnus, 120, 268-71;
connexion with Ops Consiva, 212, 273-4;
festival, 268-73;
functions, 270, 338;
temples, 71, 273-4, 339.
Scapegoat, 176;
Mamurius Veturius, 40-1, 46-9.
Seianus: owner of statue of Fortuna, 156-7, 171.
Semo Sancus, 160, 327;
connexion with Dius Fidius, 136-8, 144;
functions, 139-41.
Semones, 136.
Senate, 134.
September: character, 215-6;
festivals, 215-35.
Septimontium, 16, 265-7, 335.
Servius Tullius, 280;
connexion with Fortuna, 68, 156-7, 162, 171-2, 339;
Etruscan origin, 157, 171;
founder of temples, 68, 162, 198-9, 339.
Sextilis: _see_ August.
Sheep: fold decorated, 80-1;
lustration, 81;
sacrifice, 89, 96, 126.
Sibylline books, 68, 69, 74, 92, 93, 145, 179, 181.
Silvanus, 55, 103, 258, 261, 262;
connexion with Mars, 55, 194.
Sirius, 90.
Slaves, 155;
deities of, 199, 253-4;
festivals open to, 38, 162-3, 178-9, 193, 194, 199-200, 272-3, 280;
manumissions, 253-4.
Snakes, 104.
Sol Indiges, 191-3.
Soranus, 160;
Apollo, 84, 181.
Sosigenes, 4.
Spells, 80-1, 83, 84, 96, 109-10, 150, 243, 279-80, 296, 301, 309-10;
rain, 119-20, 232-3.
Spirits: dead, _see_ Ghosts;
evil, _see_ Evil spirits.
Statues: _see_ Images.
Stones, sacred, 140;
lapis silex, 230-2;
manalis, 211, 232-3;
oath per Iovem lapidem, 138, 231;
representing Magna Mater Idaea, 69-70, 342;
Terminus, 230-1, 326-7, 334.
Strenia, 278.
Stultorum feriae, 304-6, 322.
Subura, 247, 266.
Summanalia, 161.
Summanus, 160-1, 241.
Sun, 84;
deities of, 35, 168-70, 191-3, 283-4;
symbols of, 139, 169-70.
Supplicatio, 191.
Tacita, 210, 309-10.
Tanaquil, 141.
Tarquinii, 75-6, 121, 280, 327-8;
worships introduced by, 96, 181.
Tellus, 67, 71, 74, 294-5;
festivals, 71-2, 294-6;
sacrifices, 71, 295.
Tempestates, temple, 341.
Temples, 339-43;
of Aesculapius in insula, 278, 340;
Apollo at Actium, 182;
Apollo in Flaminian fields, 180;
Apollo Palatinus on the Palatine, 180 (n. 4), 182;
Bellona in Circo Flaminio, 134;
Bona Dea on the Aventine, 101-5;
Carmenta at Porta Carmentalis, 291, 293;
Castor and Pollux ad Forum, 296;
Castor and Pollux in Circo Flaminio, 202;
Ceres, Liber, and Libera on the Aventine, 74-6, 339;
Consus on the Aventine, 206, 267;
Diana on the Aventine, 198-200, 339;
Dius Fidius on the Quirinal, 135, 136, 141;
Faunus in insula, 257-8, 278;
Feronia at Tarracina, 253;
Flora ad Circum Maximum, 92, 202;
Flora or Horta Quirini on Quirinal, 324;
Fors Fortuna trans Tiberim, 161-2, 339;
Fortuna in Foro Boario, 156-7, 339;
Fortuna Huiusce Diei, 165, 343;
Fortuna Primigenia at Praeneste, 72
Fortuna Primigenia on the Quirinal, 124;
Fortuna Virilis, 68;
Hercules near the Circus Flaminius, 135;
Hercules Invictus ad portam trigeminam, 201;
Janus ad Theatrum Marcelli, 204;
Juno Lucina on the Esquiline, 38;
Juno Moneta in arce, 129-30;
Juno Sospita ad Forum Olitorium, 302;
Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva in Capitolio, 157-8, 215, 216-7, 326-7,
339;
Jupiter Elicius under the Aventine, 232;
Jupiter Feretrius in Capitolio, 229;
Jupiter Invictus, 158;
Jupiter Latiaris on the Alban Mount, 95-6, 228;
Juturna, 341;
Magna Mater Idaea, 70;
Mars extra Portam Capenam, 133-4, 232;
Mater Matuta in Foro Boario, 154;
Mens in Capitolio, 145;
Mercurius, 121, 339;
Minerva on the Aventine, 59, 158;
Ops ad Forum, 273-4;
Quirinus in Colle, 191, 322;
round, 193;
Salus on the Quirinal, 190-1;
Saturnus ad Forum, 271, 273-4, 339;
Summanus ad Circum Maximum, 160;
Tempestates, 341;
Vediovis in arce, 43;
Vediovis in insula, 122, 277;
Vediovis inter duos lucos, 122;
Venus ad Circum Maximum, 204;
Venus Erycina in Capitolio, 85, 145;
Venus Verticordia, 68, 343;
Victory on the Palatine, 70;
Volcanus in Circo Flaminio, 211;
Vortumnus on the Aventine, 201, 341.
Terminalia, 4, 324-7, 335.
Terminus, 324, 326-7;
festival, 324-7;
stone, 230-1, 326-7, 334.
Theatrum Marcelli, 204.
Tiber, worship, 214.
Tiber island: temples, 122, 257-8, 277, 278, 340.
Tiberinus, 120, 203, 214.
Tibicines: _see_ Trumpets.
Tigillum sororium, 238-9.
Tina (or Tinia), 222-3.
Tirones, 56.
Tithes: offered on Ara Maxima, 138; 195-7;
offered to Hercules Victor, 138-9.
Toga virilis, assumption of, 56.
Totemism, 84-5, 101, 231-2, 334.
Treaties: Dius Fidius’ connexion with, 141;
Jupiter’s connexion with, 229-30, 326;
making, 229-30;
ratified at Ara Maxima, 138.
Tree-worship, 228-9, 232, 234.
Tribuni: celerum, 58-9;
militum, 58;
plebis, 75.
Trumpets, 63-4, 159;
lustration, 63-4, 123;
players, 62, 157-9.
Tubilustrium, 44, 45, 62-4, 123, 290;
connexion with Minerva, 62;
festival of Mars, 62, 290.
Vediovis, 121-2, 160, 225, 277-8;
connexion with Apollo, 122, 181, 225, 277;
festivals, 43, 121-2, 277-8;
temples, 43, 122, 277.
Vegetation spirit: _see_ Corn-spirit.
Veneralia, 67-9.
Venus: connexion with April, 67, 69;
with Fortuna, 68;
with wine, 86, 204;
Erycina, 85, 145;
festivals, 67-8, 85-6;
functions, 67, 86;
Greek influence, 67, 69, 86;
Mimnermia (or Meminia), 145;
temples, 68, 85-6, 145, 204, 343;
Verticordia, 68-9, 343.
Vesta: aedes, 148-9, 151-4, 335;
connexion with Janus, 282-3, 287-8, 334-5;
festival, 145-54;
functions, 150;
hearth-goddess, 147-8, 150, 282-3, 287-8, 334, 337;
laurels fixed on aedes, 5, 36, 153;
penus Vestae, 83, 148, 149-50, 153, 288;
origin of cult, 146-8, 149, 282-3;
sacred fire, 5, 35, 114, 147-8, 150-1, 153.
Vestalia, 145-54;
character, 115, 126, 154;
mourning of Flaminica Dialis, 115, 146, 149, 151, 153;
salt-cake used, 110, 115, 148.
Vestal Virgins, 36, 68-9, 306, 324, 335;
festivals shared in, 52, 57, 71, 85, 112, 114-15, 150, 256;
functions, 147, 149-51, 288;
representative of daughters of family, 36, 111, 147, 149, 213, 256,
288, 334;
salt-cake made by, 110-1, 115, 148, 149, 153, 205, 311.
Vetches, 94.
Victory, temple of, 70.
Viminal, cults on, 229.
Vinalia, 10, 338;
connexion with Jupiter, 85, 86-8, 338;
with Venus, 85-6, 204;
Priora, 85-8;
Rustica, 10, 85, 86, 87, 189, 204-6.
Vitulatio, 179.
Volcanalia, 189, 209-11.
Volcanus, 209-11;
connexion with Maia, 123, 210;
festivals, 123, 209-10;
functions, 123-4, 210;
temple, 211.
Volturnalia, 214.
Volturnus, 214.
Volupia, 274.
Vortumnus, 201, 341.
War: conduct of, 216;
declaration of, 134, 230;
gods of, 126, 134-5, 207, 248, 249.
Water: deities of, 187, 189.
Weddings: _see_ Marriages.
Weeks: eight days, 7, 8.
Wells and springs: sanctity, 240.
Wheel symbol, 161, 169-70.
Wills: sanctioned by Comitia Curiata, 63, 123.
Wine: festivals, 85-8, 204-6, 236, 239-40;
introduction of vine into Italy, 88, 97, 236;
Jupiter’s connexion with, 55, 88, 240;
Venus’ connexion with, 86, 204;
vintage, 236.
Wolf: corn; _see_ Corn-spirit;
sacred to Mars, 311, 334.
Women, 262;
deities of, 38, 68, 102-3, 106, 155-6, 167-8, 200-1, 291-3;
excluded from worship of Hercules, 102, 103, 142, 194;
festivals, 38, 67-8, 102-3, 142, 148, 154-6, 178-9, 255-6, 291;
oaths, 142;
rites to produce fertility, 94-5, 104, 178-9, 262, 302, 311, 315,
318-21.
Woods, importance in religion, 183-4.
Year: beginning, 5-7, 35-6, 278;
lunar, 1-3;
method of reckoning, 1-4;
solar, 1-3.
INDEX OF LATIN WORDS
Aedes, 135.
Agone? 281.
Agonia, 281.
Amiculum Iunonis, 179, 312, 321 (n. 1).
Ancile, 38, 41, 42, 43, 46, 58, 248, 250.
Annare perennare, 51.
Annus, 1, 52.
Aperio, 66.
Argea, 56.
Argei, 52, 56, 57, 111 (n. 4), 112, 113, 118-9.
Asylum, 122, 183 (n. 3), 327.
Augurium Salutis, 190.
Auspicatio vindemiae, 204, 205.
Baculum, 64.
Balineum, 67.
Bidental, 140.
Bidentes, 140.
Bulla, 96 (n. 5).
Caeli templum, 141.
Camella, 82 (n. 4).
Caprificatio, 178 (n. 8).
Cara cognatio, 306, 308.
Cardo, 132.
Carmen, 291.
Carpentum, 291.
Casnar, 119 (n. 1).
Cerei, 273.
Cerfia, 73.
Cerfus, 73.
Cerus, 73.
Cingulum, 142.
Cippus, 319.
Clava, 64.
Clavis, 203.
Clavus, 234, 235.
Clypeus, 141.
Collegium, 157.
Columella, 134.
Comitialis, 9.
Compitum, 279, 280, 294.
Condere, 207.
Covella, 8 (n. 1).
Creare, 73.
Creppi, 262, 318.
Curia, 16, 71, 303.
Curio, 304.
Damiatrix, 105, 106.
Damium, 105.
Decumae, 195, 196.
Decuria, 140.
Dies parentales, 107, 306.
Edepol, 297.
Endotercisus, 10.
Equorum probatio, 216 (n. 5).
Fabariae kalendae, 130.
Fanum, 135.
Far, 304.
Fari, 259.
Fas (or Fastus), 8.
Favere, 258.
Februare, 188, 298 (n. 1).
Februum, 6, 83, 298, 301, 311, 321.
Feriae, 8.
Flamen, 36, 147.
Foculus, 55.
Focus, 242.
Forda, 71.
Fornax, 306.
Fur, 187.
Furfare, 188.
Furvus, 187.
Fuscus, 187.
Genialis, 55.
Genius, 55.
Hostia praecidanea, 301.
Herbarium, 104.
Horda, 71.
Impius, 299.
Incinctus, 309.
Incubus, 262.
Indiges, 192, 193.
Indigitamenta, 191, 192, 341.
Janua, 6, 7, 282.
Janus, 6, 282, 286, 287.
Lapis Capitolinus, 230-1.
Lapis manalis, 211, 232, 233.
Lapis silex, 230, 231.
Larva, 108.
Laurea, 36.
Lectisternium, 181, 200, 218, 273.
Lectus genialis, 142, 143.
Lemur, 108, 109, 183.
Lex templi, 198.
Liba, 53, 55, 155 (n. 7).
Liberalis, 55.
Litania maior, 91, 127.
Lituus, 64.
Lucar, 183.
Lucus, 183, 185.
Ludi, 15.
Lupus, 311.
Lustratio, 58, 66, 175 (n. 8), 176, 301.
Lux, 222.
Maena, 209, 309.
Mane, 156.
Manes, 108, 109, 156.
Maniae, 116.
Mansiones Salioruro, 41, 44.
Manus, 156.
Matrimus, 42.
Maturus, 156.
Matuta, 156.
Mecastor, 297.
Me dius fidius, 138.
Me hercule, 138.
Mellarium, 103.
Mercator, 121.
Minium, 218, 223.
Minusculus, 158.
Mola salsa, 110, 149, 155 (n. 7), 311.
Moneta, 129, 130.
Montanus, 267.
Montes, 16, 266-7.
Mundus, 211-2, 283.
Mustum, 240.
Nefas, 299.
Nefastus, 9, 151.
Nemus, 183.
Nodus herculaneus, 142.
Numen, 34, 35, 183.
Nundinae, 8, 270.
Obnuntiatio, 343.
Ocris fisius, 222.
Offa penita, 247 (n. 1).
Orbis, 139, 141.
Oscilla, 96, 116, 296.
Paganus, 267.
Pagus, 16, 114, 257, 294, 335.
Palatuar, 80 (n. 3).
Parentatio, 275, 276, 306.
Patrimus, 42.
Pecuarius, 257.
Penus, 148, 149, 150 (n. 1), 153, 212, 213, 288.
Per Iovem (lapidem), 138, 230 (n. 2), 231.
Persillum, 202 (n. 1).
Piamen, 301.
Pietas, 347-8.
Pistrina, 304.
Pomoerium, 133 (n. 3), 134, 211, 302 (n. 1), 319, 327.
Pompa, 216 (n. 5).
Pontifex, 114.
Portus, 202, 203.
Postriduanus, 9.
Primigenia, 165, 223.
Purgamentum, 301.
Puteal, 140.
Quadrata (Roma), 211.
Quando Rex Comitiavit Fas, 10, 63.
Quando Stercus Delatum Fas, 10, 146, 149.
Quinquare, 58.
Regia, 148.
Religio, 298, 300, 347.
Religiosus, 9, 151.
Robigo, 78, 88, 89.
Ros, 82 (n. 3).
Sacella Argeorum, 16, 56, 110.
Sacellum, 111, 112, 113, 130, 135, 154.
Sacer, 75, 174, 348.
Sacra Argeorum, 16, 111.
Sacrosanctitas, 75.
Salax, 186.
Salum, 186.
Sanqualis avis, 139.
Sapa, 82.
Satio, 269.
Sceptrum, 230.
Serere, 269, 289.
Sexagenarios de ponte, 112, 116.
Sigillaria, 272.
Simulacrum, 57, 113, 118.
Solis pulvinar, 191.
Stolae longae, 159.
Strenae, 278.
Strix, 132.
Stultorum feriae, 304, 306.
Suffimen, 83.
Summanalia, 161.
Tabularia, 269.
Tibia, 63, 159.
Tigillum sororium, 237, 238.
Tiro, 56.
Toga libera, 56.
Trabea, 41.
Transvectio equitum, 133, 296 (n. 6).
Tribunus celerum, 58, 59.
Tribunus militum, 58.
Tuba, 63, 64, 123.
Tunica picta, 41.
Urfita, 139.
Vegrandia farra, 121.
Vescus, 121.
Vesta, 282.
Vestalis, 36.
Vestigia fugae, 176, 183.
Vicus, 280.
Vindemia, 86, 88, 204, 205, 236.
Virga, 178.
Visceratio, 179.
Vitulatio, 179.
Vitulus, 179.
Votum, 346.
INDEX OF LATIN AUTHORS QUOTED
APPULEIUS,
_de Genio Socratis_, 15 108
ARNOBIUS,
_adv. Nationes_, 3. 40 73
_adv. Nationes_, 7. 21 312
_adv. Nationes_, 7. 49 70
AUGUSTINUS (ST.),
_de Civ. Dei_, 2. 27 93
“ 2. 29 230
” 4. 8 177, 274
“ 4. 11 167, 292
” 4. 23 160, 326
AUSONIUS, _de Feriis_, 9 177
CAESAR, _Bell. Gall._, 6. 16 117, 286
CALPURNIUS, _Ecl._ 1. 8 foll. 263
CATO,
_de Re Rustica_, 83 194
“ 132 218
” 139 184
“ 141 89, 126
” 156 foll. 105
_ap. Dionys._ 2. 49 137
_ap. Priscian_. 7. 337 198
CENSORINUS,
_de Die Natali_, 2. 20 66
“ 20. 4 3
” 20. 2 97
CICERO,
_de Harusp. Resp._, 12. 24 70
“ 17. 37 256
_pro Roscio Amer._, 35. 100 112, 116
_in Verrem_, i. 10. 31 215
_de Domo_, 28. 74 267
_in Pisonem_, 4. 8 279
_pro Fiacco_, 38. 95 308
_de Nat. Deor._, 2. 27. 67 287
” 2. 61 145
“ 2. 68 150
” 3. 20 240
“ 3. 46 187
” 3. 48 155
_de Divinatione_, 1. 10 160
“ 1. 17. 30 64
” 1. 101 262
“ 2. 41 166
_de Legibus_, 1. 14. 40 299
” 2. 3. 8 333
“ 2. 21. 54 276
” 2. 48 308
_de Officiis_, 3. 10 322
_de Republ._, 1. 16 175
“ 2. 12 208
_Brutus_, 14. 56 292
” 20. 78 180
_Ep. ad Att._, 1. 12 256
“ 6. 1. 8 11
” 9. 9. 4 54
“ 13. 52 268
” 15. 25 256
_ad Fam._ 12. 25 54
_ad Q. Fratr._, 2. 3. 2 322
COLUMELLA,
_de Re Rustica_, 2. 8. 2 255, 271
“ 2. 12 88
” 10. 311 170
“ 11. 2. 178, 214, 299
” 12. 4 213
CORNELIUS NEPOS,
_Atticus_, 20 229
ENNIUS, _Fragm._, 5. 477 210
FESTUS & PAULUS (ed. Müller).
P. 2. Aquaelicium 232
5. Ambarvales hostiae 125
19. Armilustrium 250
22. Apellinem 180
23. Aureliam familiam 191
33. Bellona 134
45. Catularia porta 90
56. Claudere 203
63. Cingulum 142
64. Corniscae 130
Curiales mensae 303
68. Damium 105
Daps 218
75. Depontani 112
85. Fontinalia 240
Februarius mensis 298, 321
87. Fagutal 228
92. Feretrius 138, 230
93. Fornacalia 304
97. Gradivus 37
119. Larentalia 275
122. Mater Matuta 156
123. Meditrinalia 240
128. Manalis lapis 211
150. Martius mensis 5
154. Mundus 211
165. Nefasti dies 9
178. October equus 242
179. October equus 242
197. Oscines 140
209. Picta toga 206
210. Piscatorii ludi 209
217. Persillum 202
229. Propter viam 138
Proversum fulgor 160
233. Portus 203
238. Praebia 141
241. Praebia 136
242. Pudicitiae Signum 157
245. Publica Sacra 16, 111, 256
Palatualis flamen 80
253. Pollucere merces 195
254. Quinquatrus 59
Quirinalia 304, 322
264. Rustica Vinalia 86, 204
278. Regifugium 62, 328
297. Sororium tigillum 238
309. Subura 266
316. Stultorum feriae 304
322. Saturnia 269
326. Thymelici ludi 180
333. Scribonianum 140
334. Sexagenarios de ponte 111
340. Septimontium 265
343. Servorum dies 199
348. Summanalia 161
Septimontium 266
374. Vinalia 85
377. Umbrae 185
GAIUS, 2. 101 63
GELLIUS, A.,
_Noctes Atticae_, 4. 9. 5 9
“ 5. 12 122, 186, 225
” 10. 15 56, 110, 115, 313
“ 10. 24. 3 279
” 11. 6. 1 142
“ 12. 8. 2 218
” 13. 23 123, 186, 212
“ 16. 7 82
” 16. 16. 4 291
“ 18. 2. 11 70
” 18. 7. 2 291
“ 20. 2 63
GROMATICI AUCTORES (ed. Rudorff.),
” vol. i. 56 184
“ ” 141 325
“ ” 164 126
“ ” 302 258
“ ” 350 326
“ vol. ii. 263 184
HORACE,
_Od._, 1. 21 201
“ 1. 28 299
” 1. 35 157, 170, 235, 238
“ 3. 8 38
” 3. 17 272
“ 3. 18 256
_Sat._, 1. 8. 24 109
” 2. 6. 20 foll. 289
ISIDORUS, 15. 11. 1 307
JULIUS OBSEQUENS, 19 36
JUVENAL,
_Sat._, 2. 83 foll. 256
“ 2. 86 105, 256
” 6. 314 foll. 256
“ 9. 53 38
LACTANTIUS,
_Inst._ (_de Falsa Religione_),
1. 15. 8 137
1. 20 93, 275
1. 21. 45 321
1. 22 103, 106
LIVY,
Bk. 1. 2 52, 247
5 265, 312
7 193
10 229
16 175
20 41, 233
24 111
26 238
31. 3 227
32. 12 134
45 198
55 4
2. 5 191
21 270
3. 31, 32 fin. 75
55 75
63 180
4. 20 229
5. 13 180, 186, 200
19 154
23 154
40 323
52 41
85 187
6. 5 134
20 130
33 155
7. 3 234
23 133
28 129
8. 9 288
20 141, 135
22 136
9. 30 158
40 41
46 9, 11
10. 19 134
23 75
31. 9 86, 204
46 162
11. (Epit.) 278
14. (Epit.) 160
21. 1 199
22. 1 245, 253, 271
9 145
33. 7 211
23. 19 225
31 145
24. 3 183
25. 12 179
26. 11 199, 253
33 180
27. 6 75
11 228
23 180
29. 10 69
14 69
36 254
30. 39 73
43 231
31. 21 277
32. 1 96, 137
33. 25 75
42 257, 278, 302
34. 53 124, 277, 302
35. 10 242
36. 2 217
37. 33 44, 96, 250
38. 57 218
39. 15 343
40. 34. 4 86
45 96
51 180
41. 13 140
16 96
LUCAN, 3. 153 269
LUCRETIUS, 5. 654 156
MACROBIUS,
_Saturnalia_ 1. 7. 34 96, 296
“ 1. 8. 3 270
” 1. 9. 2 283
“ 1. 9. 16 285, 289
” 1. 10. 2 267
“ 1. 10. 11 275
” 1. 10. 19 271
“ 1. 11. 36 178
” 1. 11. 48 269
“ 1. 11. 49 272
” 1. 12. 6 35, 51
“ 1. 12. 12 67
” 1. 12. 16 11, 98
“ 1. 12. 18 210
” 1. 12. 22 130
“ 1. 12. 25 102
” 1. 12. 30 129
“ 1. 12. 33 134
” 1. 12. 38 194
“ 1. 15. 9 8
” 1. 15. 14 222
“ 1. 16. 3 10
” 1. 16. 5 281
“ 1. 16. 14 9
“ 1. 16. 16 97
” 1. 16. 17 & 18 211
“ 1. 16. 22 9
” 1. 16. 30 270
“ 1. 17. 15 180
” 1. 17. 25 180
“ 1. 19. 17 238
” 3. 2. 11 179
“ 3. 2. 14 179
” 3. 12. 2 194
“ 3. 5. 10 88
MARTIAL, 4. 64. 17 52
5. 23 95
8. 67. 4 93
14. 1 271
MARTIANUS CAPELLA 1. 45 284
2. 162 108
MINUCIUS FELIX,
_Octavius_ 24. 3 47
OVID, _Fasti_ 1. 318 281
“ 1. 324 281
” 1. 331 281
“ 1. 333 282
” 1. 585 291
“ 1. 629 292
” 1. 661 295
“ 1. 658 foll. 294
” 1. 681 295
“ 1. 705 296
” 2. 19 foll. 301
“ 2. 31 300
” 2. 33 300
“ 2. 47 foll. 6
” 2. 50 324
“ 2. 55 foll. 302
” 2. 267 foll. 310
“ 2. 371 foll. 311
” 2. 425 foll. 320
“ 2. 525 306
” 2. 527 foll. 305
“ 2. 571 309
” 2. 617 foll. 309
“ 2. 623 309
” 2. 643 foll. 325
“ 2. 667 326
” 2. 671 327
“ 2. 853 331
” 2. 858 foll. 331
“ 3. 57 255
” 3. 135 36
“ 3. 235 34
” 3. 647 51
“ 3. 771 foll. 56
” 3. 791 56
“ 3. 835 foll. 59
” 4. 633 foll. 71
“ 4. 681 foll. 77
” 4. 711 78
“ 4. 733 83
” 4. 737 80
“ 4. 739 81
” 4. 763 82
“ 4. 871 86
” 4. 899 85
“ 4. 901 foll. 89-90
” 4. 939 90
“ 5. 129 foll. 100
” 5. 149 foll. 101
“ 5. 255 37
” 5. 331 foll. 93
“ 5. 371 94
” 5. 419 foll. 307
“ 5. 431 109
” 5. 725 123
“ 6. 155 foll. 132
” 6. 213 136
“ 6. 219 foll. 146
” 6. 307 219
“ 6. 395 foll. 148
” 6. 617 157
“ 6. 650 157
” 6. 659 159
“ 6. 731 160
” 6. 775 foll. 161
_Trist._ 2. 549 13
_Ars Amat._ 3. 637 102
_Metamorph._ 14. 623 foll. 201
PALLADIUS,
_de Re Rustica_ 7. 3 130
PERSIUS, _Sat._ 5. 177 94
PLINIUS,
_Hist. Nat._ 2. 52 160
“ 2. 140 233
” 3. 69 95
“ 7. 11 84
” 7. 120 69
“ 8. 194 156
” 10. 20 140
“ 11. 250 237
” 11. 232 132
“ 14. 88 103 & 236
” 15. 79 178
“ 16. 235 38
” 18. 8 305, 325
“ 18. 15 76
“ 18. 16 70
” 18. 24 236
“ 18. 91 88
” 18. 117 131
“ 18. 118 110
” 18. 273 foll. 88
“ 18. 284 87, 205
” 18. 315 236
“ 29 passim 105
” 34. 54 165
“ 35. 19 191
” 35. 154 75
“ 36. 204 280
” 37. 135 231
PORPHYRIO,
on Hor. _Epist._ 2. 2. 209 60, 108
PROBUS,
on Virg. _Georg._ 1. 10 25, 260
PROPERTIUS, 4. 1. 26 310
4. 4. 77 82
4. 4. 75 80
4. 9. 74 137
4. 10. 229
5 (4). 1. 9 243
5 (4). 2. 61 47
QUINTILLIAN, 1. 7. 12 191
SERVIUS,
_ad Virg. Ecl._ 3. 77 125
“ 4. 62 142
” 8. 32 220
“ 8. 82 110
” 10. 27 223
“ _Georg._ 1. 7 74
” 1. 10 258
“ 2. 385 297
” 2. 389 96
“ 3. 1 80
” 3. 332 201
“ _Aen._ 1. 292 337
” 1. 720 145
“ 2. 115 269
” 2. 140 176
“ 2. 351 313
” 3. 63 108
“ 3. 175 232
” 4. 518 109
“ 5. 241 155
” 5. 724 186
“ 7. 603 39
” 7. 799 226
“ 8. 314 7
” 8. 336 93
“ 8. 641 30
” 9. 53 154
“ 9. 448 230, 327
” 10. 316 182
“ 12. 139 293
” 12. 206 230
SENECA (M. ANNAEUS),
_Ep._ 12. 2 142
“ 18. 1 270
_Quaest. Nat._ 2. 41 157
SILIUS ITALICUS, 8. 50 foll. 51
STATIUS, _Theb._ 2. 707 229
SOLINUS, 1. 7 197
1. 13 293
SUETONIUS,
_Vespasianus_ 5 51
_Vitellius_ 1 258
_de Grammaticis_ 19 12
SYMMACHUS, _Epist._ 10. 35 278
TACITUS,
_Germania_, 9 234
_Annals_, 2. 49 204
“ 11. 24 171
” 12. 23 190
“ 12. 24 206, 318
TERTULLIAN,
_Apol._ 42 272
_ad Nat._ 2. 9 130, 133
_de Monogam._ 17 155
_de Spectaculis_, 5 89, 178
“ 8 206, 209
_de Praescript. Haeret._ 451 333
TIBULLUS,
1. 3. 35 271
1. 8. 21 40
2. 1. 5 279
2. 5. 28 81
2. 5. 81 79
2. 5. 87 80
VALERIUS MAXIMUS,
2. 2. 9 310 foll.
2. 1. 2 218
2. 10. 8 93
8. 15. 2 69
VARRO,
_de Lingua Latina_,
5. 41 266
43 198
46 55, 57, 111, 201,
323
50 228
57 64, 212
66 136, 141, 327
72 186
74 160
83 114
84 210
85 57
91 64
106 155
153 251
6. 12 282
13 298
14 53-55
15 70, 79, 194
16 85, 86, 204
17 158
18 174, 182
19 202
20 67, 205
21 212
22 240
23 274
24 266
25 279
26 295
27 8
29 8
30 9, 300
31 10, 63, 329
32 146, 149
33 66
34 319
62 250
94 232
7. 26 73
44 111
45 80, 92, 201
_de Re Rustica_,
1. 1 67, 86
28. 29 299
30 66
33 189, 216
34 236
35 255, 271
36 277
65 205
2. 1. 9 83
5. 6 70
_Sat. Menipp. fragm._, 506 53
_ap. Charisium_, 117 132
_ap. Aug. Civ. Dei_, 7. 24 150
_ap. Nonium_, 13 208
“ 189 156
VELLEIUS PATERCULUS,
1. 14 92
VIRGIL,
_Ecl._ 5. 66 103
_Georg._ 1. 10 260
“ 151 90
” 211 271
“ 338 foll. 125
” 344 103
“ 419 206
” 462 foll. 192
“ 498 192
” 2. 538 271
_Aen._ 1. 292 322
“ 5. 49 308
” 77 103
“ 79 308
” 255 346
“ 662 210
” 7. 45 foll. 258
“ 81 foll. 263
” 691 185
“ 8. 281 194
” 314 foll. 258
“ 331 269
” 600 261
“ 630 311
” 10. 423 229
“ 11. 785 84, 181
VITRUVIUS,
1. 7. 1 211
3. 2. 2 124
INDEX OF GREEK AUTHORS QUOTED
AELIAN, _Hist. Anim._ 12. 34 329
APOLLONIUS RHODIUS, 4. 478 315
ARISTOPHANES,
_Knights_, 41 133
_Lysistrata_, 537 133
“ 691 133
ARISTOTLE, _Oecon._, p. 1349 b 155
DIO CASSIUS,
37. 35 102, 255
47. 18 174
55. 77 296
58. 7 157
DIODORUS SICULUS, p. 337 (15. 14) 155
DIONYSIUS OF HALICARNASSUS,
1. 21 223
31 258
32 310
33 206, 246
34 269
38 112, 116
40 138, 193
79, 80 310
88 79, 80, 83
2. 19 70
23 305, 313
31 229
40 306
48 323
50 303
70 39
71 38
73 114
75 237
3. 22 238
32 271
45 114
69 56, 326
4. 14 280, 282
15 56
26 199
40 156
49 95
58 135, 141
5. 13 278
16 262
6. 1 269, 274
13 133, 296
89 75
7. 1 76
9. 60 135, 141
10. 42 75
12. 9 186
13. 7 130
EUSTATHIUS,
_ad Hom. Od._ 22. 335 138
LUCIAN, _Dea Syria_ 49 92
LYDUS, LAURENTIUS,
“ 3. 3 294
” 3. 29 46, 50
“ 4. 2 41, 284, 289
” 4. 24 306
“ 4. 36 46, 50
” 4. 42 60, 62
“ 4. 45 67
” 4. 49 71
_Fragm._ p. 118, ed. Bekker 265
NICOLAUS DAMASCENUS,
_Vita Caesaris_ 21 320
PLUTARCH,
_Romulus_ 4 276
“ 11 211
“ 21 101, 291, 310, 314
” 27 175 foll.
“ 29 175 foll.
_Camillus_ 33 175 foll.
_Poplicola_ 14 217
_Coriolanus_ 3 296
_C. Gracchus_ 17 187
_Marius_ 26 165, 297
_Cicero_ 19 & 20 102, 255
_Caesar_ 61 310
_Quaestiones Graecae_ 12 49
” _Conviviales_, 6. 8 49
“ ” 7. 1 240
“ _Romanae_ 3 200
” “ 4 199, 201
” “ 16 155
” “ 18 195
” “ 20 103
” “ 22 289
” “ 28 138, 327
” “ 30 141
” “ 34 270, 276
” “ 40 207
” “ 42 270
” “ 45 86, 87
” “ 46 324
” “ 51 100
” “ 55 158
” “ 56 290
” “ 60 194
” “ 68 101
” “ 69 266 foll.
” “ 74 69
” “ 86 115, 119
” “ 87 303
” “ 90 194
” “ 94 278
” “ 97 242
” “ 111 311
_Parallela_ 41 227
_de Fortuna Romanorum_ 5. 10 145
_de Iside et Osiride_ 31 91
POLYBIUS, 12. 4b 241
“ 21. 10 44, 250
PROCOPIUS,
_de Bell. Goth._ 1. 25 283
“ 3. 13 117
STRABO,
p. 180 (Bk. 4. 5) 200
p. 226 (Bk. 5. 9) 84, 155
p. 613 (Bk. 13. 64) 89
p. 639 foll. (Bk. 14. 20) 40
p. 660 (Bk. 10. 8) 117
THE END
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=The City State of the Greeks and Romans.= A Survey Introductory to
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