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:

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]:

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 ???e???; 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.

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]

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.)

FORTUNÆ PUBLICÆ P[OPULI] R[OMANI] IN COLL[E]. (ESQ.)

FORTUNÆ 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:

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].