Taboo, Magic, Sprits:
A Study of Primitive Elements in Roman Religion
By Eli Edward Burriss
CHAPTER VII
NATURALISM AND ANIMISM
THE subject of animism was discussed in the introductory chapter,1 and the reader is referred to the principles laid down there. It remains, however, to enlarge upon and illustrate these principles with special reference to Roman life. But first let us say something about a period which, according to some scholars--who are probably right--antedated animism. To this period the name naturism or naturalism has been given.2 Man, in this period, conceives of things as living, not because they possess spirits like himself, but because they possess powers, usually evil, such as he observes in lightning, in the wild beast, in the river. Certain it is that the Romans often directly addressed objects, in an entirely impersonal way. We have already noted this in the case of the worshiper at the Festival of Pales, who prays to "the springs and the spirits of the springs." 3 Vesta, too, the Roman goddess of fire, must have been thus addressed; for in her temple there was no cult statue, only the sacred fire--Vesta herself.
In this chapter, then, it will be our purpose to discuss in some detail several elements of nature worship among the Romans: stones and trees; springs, rivers, the sea, rain; fire, both in its helpful and in its harmful aspect. Generally, in the fully developed religions, these objects are worshiped as spirits, if not as gods; but, as we shall see, there is abundant evidence that the objects themselves were also worshiped.
The Worship of Stones
The belief in the sanctity of stones was not uncommon in antiquity. Jacob, we recall, on a certain occasion, used stones for a pillow and on awakening, since he realized, because the Lord had appeared to him in a dream, that the place was sacred, "took the stone that he had put for his pillows, and set it up for a pillar, and poured oil upon the top of it." 4 The pouring of oil upon the stone indicates that Jacob believed that God was in it. Again, when Joshua gave his last charge to the people before his death, he used a stone as witness to his words. We read 5 that he "took a great stone, and set it up there under an oak, that was by the sanctuary of the Lord. And Joshua said unto all the people, Behold, this stone shall be a witness unto us; for it hath heard all the words of the Lord which he spake unto us: it shall be therefore a witness unto you, lest ye deny your God." The Greeks, as we know, worshiped meteoric stones.6 Thus Zeus was worshiped near Gythion as a stone, probably a meteorite.7 At Delphi was to be seen the stone which Cronus, as the story had it, swallowed in place of Zeus.8 Again, in the province of Cyrenaica there was a rock, sacred to the South Wind, which no human hand was permitted to touch.9 And the image of the Great Mother, brought to Rome in 204 B.C., was simply a rough black meteoric stone.10
Survivals of stone worship are to be found among modern Christian peoples. Thus in Galicia, where in pre-Christian times stones were especially worshiped, ardent Catholics of to-day are in the habit of kissing stones in order to add potency to their prayers in the church.11
To return to Roman times: Pliny the Elder records 12 an odd superstition about the magic potency of certain stones. It seems that childbirth was eased if a stone, which had, by separate blows, killed a man, a boar, and a bear, was cast over the roof of the house in which a pregnant woman lay.
The magic power of a stone, in all probability a meteorite, to cause rain, we have already noted in the discussion of the aquaelicium.13 The Aos, in our day, worship sacred stones with sacrifice and prayer and believe that certain boulders control the weather.14
In the earliest worship of Jupiter, as Feretrius, on the Capitoline Hill, before the god had a temple or even an altar, the oak was his dwelling place. It was at this oak, as the Romans believed, that Romulus hung the spoils which he had taken from the King of the Caeninenses.15 In historical times, however, a flint stone, possibly an ax or a knife--a reminiscence of the stone age--was the only representation of the god in the temple. We have noted above, in the passage quoted from Joshua, the close connection between the oak and stones. This is probably due to the fact that both are hard and enduring, a quality which they can communicate magically. Both, too, in ancient Latium, were used to mark the boundaries between farms.
A flint stone in the temple of Jupiter on the Capitol was used by the fetials in making oaths "by Jupiter the Stone." In taking such oaths in private life, the Pater Patratus held the stone in his hand and said: 16 "If I wittingly deceive, then may Jupiter cast me out from my property, leaving the city and the citadel safe, as I now cast away this stone." Again, in making a treaty, a fetial struck the sacrificial pig, first saying: 17 "If (the Roman people) shall be the first to defect (from the terms of this treaty) . . . do you then, O Jupiter, so strike the Roman people as I shall here to-day strike this pig . . . "
Originally an image of Jupiter was taken along with the fetials into foreign countries, but because of the distances over which it had to be carried as Roman sway was extended, the image was later left at home, and the sacred staff belonging to it was used in its place.18 This shows once more the primitive manner of thought which makes something which has been in contact with the god serve as the god himself.
The boundaries between farms in ancient Latium were marked by terminal stones or by stocks of trees. Certain of these were regarded as gods and were worshiped from time immemorial.19 Here we have one of the most primitive types of worship among the Romans. At first, doubtless, the stone itself--a fetish20--was worshiped, then the spirit resident in the stone. Terminus seems never to have developed beyond the latter stage. Terminal stones were inserted in place with solemn ceremony. A hole was dug for the stone. Into it the blood of the sacrificial animal was allowed to drip, and into it were thrown the bones and ashes, together with incense and products of the farm. Upon these was rammed the terminal stone, properly oiled and garlanded. In later times, other objects were discovered under the stones--charcoal, shattered earthenware vessels, broken glass, bronze coins, and gypsum.
On February twenty-third, in the country, the Terminalia marked the yearly dramatization of the original ceremony.21 The owners of adjacent farms adorned their respective sides of the boundary stone with garlands; an altar was erected and fire was brought from the home hearth by the wife. An old man, having chopped up wood and piled it high, started the fire. Into it some of the produce of the farm was thrown three times from a basket. The onlookers made libations of wine. In historical times, the blood of a lamb and a suckling pig and, sometimes, of a kid was sprinkled on the stone; but it seems that in olden times blood sacrifice was forbidden.22 Feasting and songs in praise of Terminus concluded the rites. The offerings to the stone increased its magic power of warding off evils from the farm and gave it strength to oppose all attempts to change the limits of the farm.
In the city, in the temple of Jupiter on the Capitoline, there was a stone said to be Terminus, and above it was an opening to the sky, for Terminus had to be worshiped in the open air. According to the story, when the foundations were being laid for the temple in the reign of Tarquin the Proud, all the gods save Terminus and Youth could be "moved" from their places by the religious exauguratio.
Trees and Groves
That early peoples looked with awe upon trees, groves, and forests scarcely needs illustration when we recall that in primitive times forests covered vast portions of the earth's surface which are now cultivated fields. Such primeval forests existed in Italy. The house of King Latinus, writes Vergil,23 was located "in a forest, awful, and hallowed by his ancestors." Classical writers refer to forests which had become mere names in their own day. The Ciminian Forest in Etruria, for example, was as impregnable and fearful as those of Germany, and even traders refused to pass through it. Once, in a combat between the Etruscans and the Romans, the former fled out in rout into the forest. Scarcely any Roman but the general himself was willing to pursue them. Later, however, when the general's brother volunteered to pass through, attended only by a slave, and succeeded in his attempt--a fact which causes the historian to marvel--the general and his army braved the forest and debouched upon the Etruscan plain beyond.24
This feeling of awe in the presence of trees is natural enough to early man. The movement of the tree, with the creaking of its branches and the whispering of its leaves when fanned by the breeze, was sufficient to endow it with personal life. Hence there is frequent mention in Roman literature of "voices" coming from sacred groves. For instance, among the prodigies which preceded a pestilence in the reign of King Tullius was "a loud voice, heard coming from a grove on the mountain top."25 Again, among the prodigies foreboding the murder of Julius Caesar was "a mighty voice, clearly heard everywhere throughout the silent groves."26 It was quite natural, then, for the poet Ovid to say, in describing a dark grove of oaks, "a spirit resides here,"27 and for Pliny the Elder to write: 28 "Trees were temples of spirits; and, in accordance with the ancient ritual, the simple country folk even now dedicate to a god a tree which excels its neighbors. For we do not honor statues which glisten with gold and ivory more than our groves and the quietude that reigns in them. . . . " Tibullus, when his duties called him into the fields, would pause in worship at a garlanded tree trunk or an ancient boundary stone.29 Once after the Emperor Verus had recovered from an illness, Cornelius Fronto, the tutor of Marcus Aurelius, prayed in thanksgiving at every sacred grove and tree.30
When a Roman made a clearing in the forest for the pasturing of cattle or the reclamation of new arable land, it was necessary to appease the unknown spirits whose domain had been poached upon, that they might work no ill on the cattle to be pastured or on the crops to be planted there. Cato has left us an account of such a ceremony.31 As we shall see, it was not only intended as an atoning sacrifice, but also (as in the other sacrifices described by Cato) was thought to add strength to the spirits addressed. We translate such portions of this passage as are necessary for the understanding of the rite:
"A grove should be cleared in the Roman manner as follows. Do so with a pig as an atoning sacrifice, and thus formulate your words: 'If thou art a god, or if thou art a goddess, to whom this spot is sacred, as it is right to make atonement to thee with the sacrifice of a pig . . . whether I or some one at my bidding shall do it . . . I utter prayers of goodness, that thou mayest be favorable and propitious to me, my home, and my slaves, and my children. To this end, from the offering of the atoning sacrifice of the pig, receive thou strength.' If you are minded to do any digging, offer a second atoning sacrifice in the same way, and say this besides: 'for the sake of doing this work.'"
All peoples have considered groves sacred. We are indebted to Frazer for the following instance:32 ". . . not far from Idua Oronn, in Southern Nigeria, there is a sacred grove of Abang 'Ndak, where no branch may be cut nor leaf plucked under pain of death."
According to Apuleius,33 wayfarers who were religiously inclined would pause at sacred groves, offering apples and uttering prayers. Italy in ancient times was dotted with almost countless sacred groves. In Rome, too, many cults sought the shelter of groves. Perhaps the most famous of these was that of the Arval Brothers. We have already had occasion to mention this grove in connection with the subject of taboo.34 Originally, iron graving instruments were forbidden in it, but with time the Brothers came to offer an atoning sacrifice before taking the iron instrument into the grove and again after removing it. Curiously enough, several of these inscriptions have survived.35 From them we learn that two ewe lambs were offered to the Mother of the Lares and two wethers to the Lares themselves.
Another sacred grove which seems to have been thronged with worshipers on February first was that of Helernus, to whom the pontiffs offered a black ox.36 Hence Helernus must have been a chthonic divinity.
Space will not allow descriptions of the many other sacred groves, of Diana at Aricia, Egeria outside the Porta Capena, Juno at Falerii, and a host of others. The fact that they were so numerous indicates that the ancients held them as especially holy.
Men came to have a feeling of friendly awe for trees and often identified the duration of their own lives with the lives of particular trees. For example, when a palm-shoot grew up between the slabs of stone in front of his house, the Emperor Augustus caused the tree to be transplanted to the inner court, where it shared an honored place with his home gods.37 Doubtless Augustus believed that there was some connection between the palm tree's life and his own. This belief is world-wide.38 Again, the Caesars had a grove of laurels at Veli, from which any member of the family who was about to celebrate a triumph took a branch. He afterwards planted a branch in the grove again--probably the same one which he had carried in his triumph. A sympathetic connection was believed to exist between the life of the Caesar who planted the shoot and the life of the laurel itself, for the withering of the tree was prophetic of the death of the Caesar.39 On the country estate of the Flavians stood an ancient oak which sent forth a branch on each of three occasions when the Empress Vespasia gave birth to a child.40
This idea is a primitive survival. Among the savages to-day the belief is persistent that man has an "external soul"41 which may reside in any object, often a plant of a tree. Thus Frazer informs us 42 that, "Among the M'Bengas in Western Africa, about the Gaboon, when two children are born on the same day, the people plant two trees of the same kind and dance round them. The life of each of the children is believed to be bound up with the life of one of the trees: and if the tree dies or is thrown down, they are sure that the child will soon die . . . "
In primitive times, when forests were to be found everywhere, dangerous enemies came from them. What, then, was more natural than for the Romans to perform rites of aversion on the spot where the enemies had appeared? In this way the Romans explained a festival called the Lucaria, which was celebrated in a large wood located between the Salarian Road and the Tiber. According to Festus 43 the reason for the worship of this grove was that the Romans, on one occasion, having been defeated in battle by the Gauls, fled in rout to it for safety. This explanation as given by Festus may contain the truth. However, to understand the Lucaria we need go no further than the universality of the belief in the sanctity of trees, and the reasons which we have already suggested for that belief.
In Rome there were several trees which all Romans held sacred. The Ruminal fig tree on the Palatine Hill--under which, according to the story invented by a later generation to explain the tree, Remus and Romulus had been suckled--was worshiped (originally by shepherds on behalf of their flocks), with offerings of milk. In 58 A.D. the tree, which had been transplanted to the Forum by magic, began to wither, a fact which caused great consternation among the Romans. This consternation disappeared only when the tree began to show signs of reviving.44 The tree doubtless was worshiped at first; but because the Romans believed that Ruminalis was connected with ruma or rumis, "a teat," they created two new divinities, Jupiter Ruminalis and Rumina. In historical times Rumina had a shrine near the Ruminal fig tree.
On the seventh of July--the Nones of the Goat--the day on which Romulus was believed to have been caught up to heaven at the Swamp of the Goat in the Plain of Mars, women, both bond and free, sacrificed the milky juice of the fig to Juno of the Goat and feasted beneath the sacred wild fig tree. Originally here the tree itself was worshiped.45
In the grove at Nemi grew a sacred tree whose boughs only a runaway slave might break. The possession of the branch, popularly identified with the "golden bough" of Vergil, entitled the slave to fight to the death the priest of Diana, the King of the Grove (Rex Nemorensis). If the slave succeeded in killing the priest, he himself became King. It is recorded that Caligula suborned a powerful slave to kill the priest at Nemi who had occupied the office too long to suit the mad emperor.46
On the Esquiline Hill was a grove known as the Fagutal, containing a shrine of Jupiter with a beech tree sacred to him.47
In Italy all oak trees were sacred to Jupiter. The oldest cult of Jupiter was associated with an oak tree on the Capitoline Hill. Under the cult name Feretrius, Jupiter was, in early times, worshiped as an oak sacred to the shepherds of the community. It was at this tree that Romulus, as the story went, dedicated the arms taken in single combat with the king of the Caeninenses. Later, men peopled the oak with a spirit and built an altar under its shadow. In historical times Jupiter Feretrius was worshiped on this spot in a small temple. With him were associated the fetials whose duties were concerned with treaties and with the declaration of war.48 Livy records 49 an illuminating instance of the oak conceived of as a spirit. In 458 B.C., the Aequians broke a treaty with the Romans, and, when the Romans sent deputies to the enemy to protest, the Aequian general bade them "tell to the oak" the instructions which they had received from the Roman Senate. One of the deputies on departing said: "Let this consecrated oak and whatever gods exist hear that this treaty has been broken by you." The tree is here felt to have the power to hear the grievances of the Romans against the Aequians.
There was an ancient grove of Juno Lucina on one of the spurs of the Esquiline Hill in which grew an ancient lotus tree called the "hairy" tree (capillata). The reason for this strange name was that the Vestals, when they cut off their hair, suspended it on this tree. Frazer, supporting his conclusion by parallels from Morocco and Germany, believes that the purpose was to prevent the hair from falling into the hands of witches who might work evil upon the good Vestals.50
The Romans considered some trees lucky, others unlucky. According to the pontiffs, those trees which bore light-colored fruit were lucky, those which bore dark fruit were unlucky. The same tree--the fig for example--might be lucky or unlucky, depending on whether its figs were light or dark. It is probable, too, that trees which bore no fruit were also thought to be unlucky.51
Water
In seeking to understand the worship of water by the Romans, it must be remembered that primitive man associates motion of any sort, whether it be that of swaying branch or dashing cataract or purling stream, with animate life--with spirits. Again, springs bubble from the earth--the seat of mysterious chthonic forces--the same earth which belches forth hot sulphur or mephitic vapors and volcanic lava and ashes. Water, too, possesses healing and cleansing virtues, real and magical. And, finally, the hyperactive imagination of the savage easily led him to believe that the babbling of the springs and rivulets was the voice of the spirits themselves. In the case of the Romans, their dependence upon springs for a supply of cool water during the burning heat of summer tended to add to the sanctity of these springs. Whatever the cause, the Romans, as well, indeed, as all other peoples, considered springs sacred.52 For example, among the Arabs of Palestine to-day each village has its sacred fountain with special curative powers.53 Once more, the efficacy of the waters of Lourdes is familiar to every traveler in France. And in England, Protestant as well as Catholic farmers believe that the waters and the moss from the well of St. Walstan, near Norwich, can cure diseases of animals.54
The Romans, we find, worshiped springs, not usually, indeed, as gods with statues and all the paraphernalia of a State cult, but as spirits (numina). At the shepherd festival of Pales (we repeat), the farmer calls upon the divinity "to appease the springs and the spirits of the springs." 55 Here, the springs themselves, as distinct from the spirits dwelling in them, are worshiped--a most primitive type of ceremony. Seneca the Philosopher writes as follows about the worship of springs by his fellow countrymen: 56 "We worship the headwaters of great streams; the spot where the giant river breaks forth suddenly from its hidden source has its altars. Hot springs are worshiped by us; and the darkness or unfathomable depth of certain pools renders them sacred."
Once during an illness the epigrammatist Martial was forbidden to drink cooled water; but he disobeyed the prohibition and drank water from a spring in the house of a friend. In spite of this he recovered his health and offered to the spring a sow which he had vowed.57 Sacred springs, on the other hand, might harm the person who desecrated them. It seems that the Emperor Nero on one occasion took a bath in the sacred source of the Marcian Waters which, according to the tradition, had been brought through aqueducts to Rome by King Ancus Marcius. An illness which resulted from this imperial caprice was ascribed by the people to the vengeance of the gods for his having polluted the holy waters.58 The ode of Horace addressed to the spring Bandusia is familiar to all. The poet celebrated the rite, probably on October thirteenth, the day of the Festival of Fons, with sacrifice of a kid and wine and blossoms to the spirit of the spring.59 On this day chaplets were thrown into springs, and wells were garlanded.60 Ovid represents Numa, the traditional founder of the Roman religion, sacrificing sheep and offering wine to a spring in a grove at the base of the Aventine Hill.61
While we read about a god Fons, and while there was a shrine dedicated to Fons outside Rome near one of its gates, and an altar of Fons on the Janiculum Hill, it is difficult to say with conviction that there was a cult of Fons worshiped under State supervision at a particular temple with priests and sacrifices. It would seem, rather, that the god of fountains was still in a multiple state, like fauns, nymphs and the like, thus representing a transition stage between spirit and god. The presence of so many springs in different parts of Italy, on each of which the people of a particular locality had to depend for their supply of water, would tend to preserve the multiple nature of the god.
We have record of a number of famous springs in Italy. That of Egeria 62 in the sacred grove not far from the Capene Gate on the Appian Road is particularly famous, because from it, in early times at least, the Vestals drew water to cleanse their sacred vessels. This spring still bubbles forth near the Villa Fonseca.63 According to the story, the worship of Egeria came from the sacred grove of Diana at Nemi, where the spring poured its healing waters into the lake. Egeria and her sisters the Camenae were worshiped especially by prospective mothers. When the Albans migrated to Rome, they brought the cult with them to the grove of the Muses which, in Juvenal's time, had become a squatting place for indigent Jews; and so the spring itself had lost most of its pristine sanctity.
There was a health-giving spring in Latium near the Numicus River, called Juturna,64 which Varro placed among "the proper gods and nymphs." The worship of Juturna was transferred to Rome, to the pool near the temple of Vesta in the Forum. It seems likely that in later times the Vestals drew water from this spring rather than from that of Egeria. At any rate its waters were used for sacrificial purposes; and persons who made use of water in their daily occupations celebrated a festival of Juturna in January.
Near the city of Padua, at a place called Aponus in ancient times, were many fissures in the earth, through which burst the crackling flames of sulphur. The water of the near-by lake--called "a present spirit" by Claudian--possessed healing virtues.65
The pleasant Roman habit of investing the springs with spirits is illustrated in one of Pliny's letters, where he describes the headwaters of the Clitumnus, a small river in Umbria which flows into a branch of the Tiber. On the banks of the Clitumnus grazed cattle whose brilliant color was due, as the Romans believed, to their having drunk of and bathed in its waters. From the shores of this stream came the white horses which were sacrificed to Jupiter after a triumphal procession to the Capitol.66 The waters were so clear that Pliny could count, on the bottom, coins which the worshipers had offered to the spirit of the water.67 Superstition had it that the Clitumnus not only reflected perfectly the human form, but reflected character as well.68 The spirit of the stream possessed a statue which occupied an ancient temple. That it actually functioned as an oracle in Pliny's day was attested by existing oracular responses attributed to it. Pliny remarks to the friend to whom the letter is addressed that he may perhaps find amusement in reading the countless inscriptions dedicated to the Clitumnus by persons who had been cured by its waters. In the neighborhood, in addition to the temple of Clitumnus, could be found many chapels dedicated to the spirits which presided over the various springs in the neighborhood. Pliny, in another letter,69 mentions a sacred lake near Ameria, whose waters no ship was allowed to touch. Again, the Elder Pliny notes certain springs at Sinuessa, which were said to have the power to prevent childlessness and to cure insanity, and still others which were especially beneficial in the treatment of sore eyes, ears, or feet, and for healing fractures and wounds of all sorts.70
At least one Roman spring was potent to wash away the perjuries of the shady merchant. This was that of Mercury which lay near the Capene Gate. Ovid's description of the rites is illuminating:71
"There is a spring of Mercury [he writes] in the neighborhood of the Capene Gate. If you are pleased to believe those who have tested it, the spring possesses a spirit. To it comes the merchant with his tunic caught up; and, being ceremonially pure, he draws water to carry home in an urn which has been fumigated. With this water he drenches a laurel spray, and with the drenched laurel he sprinkles all the wares that are presently to have new owners. He also sprinkles his own hair with the dripping laurel and goes through prayers in a voice which is wont to deceive. 'Wash away past perjuries,' he says, 'wash away my faithless words of the past day.'"
The word numen is here used for the spirit animating the spring; and it is important to note that, as often in the case of water spirits, the water itself is addressed. Furthermore, we observe that a Roman might pray to his gods for evil as well as for good.
There is abundant evidence that rivers were worshiped by the Latins. River water and even the reeds growing along the banks were powerful agents in rites of purification.72 In the old Roman days auspices were taken by magistrates before crossing a river or any water which arose from a sacred source. This was especially the case with the Petronia, a small tributary of the Tiber. Magistrates regularly took the auspices before crossing this stream to attend to business on the other side. The practice, however, had died out before Cicero's time.73 Occasionally in magic rites the command was given not to cross a running stream, showing the persistence of the belief that streams resented a person's crossing them.74
August twenty-seventh marked the Festival of Volturnus. Now Volturnus was the name of a river in Campania, and as one of the calendars definitely states that the sacrifice was "to the river Volturnus" we may conclude that the festival was originally held in honor of this river. We know that there was a festival of Volturnus held every year at Casilinum, a small town in Campania.75 But the Festival of Volturnus occurred also in Rome, and so scholars have concluded that Volturnus was an old name for the Tiber.76 But what is to forbid the transference of the rites of a Campanian river god to Rome, there to be identified with the Tiber? Such transference was natural to the Romans, as we have seen in the case of the springs Jutuma and Egeria.
The Tiber was considered holy from the earliest days of Rome, and was believed to watch over the homes in the city.77 The antiquity of its worship is attested by the fact that the Tiber appeared in the "litany" of the pontiffs and in the prayers of the augurs.78 In one of the fragments of Ennius,79 we read a portion of a prayer formula, presumably uttered by AEneas: "Thee, Father Tiber, with thy holy stream . . . " Servius, commenting on Vergil's imitation of the line, states that the words "Help, Tiber, with thy waters" were part of a formal prayer. The story of Horatius Cocles is familiar to all. As he leaped into the Tiber, he called upon the river to protect him.80 Horace represents a mother praying that her son be cured of a fever. If the boy is relieved, the mother will make him stand naked in the Tiber.81 We learn from Persius that when a Roman had prayed for evil--such as the death of a kinsman or a ward--he must plunge his head two or three times in the holy waters of the Tiber in order to make his prayers acceptable.82 A proposal was laid before the Senate in the reign of Tiberius to change the course of the lakes and streams which emptied into the Tiber. The inhabitants opposed the alteration, protesting that their rivers were under the protection of the gods.83 At Horta--the modern Orte--there was an altar to Tiber, erected, however, not by a native of the town but by a Roman. Inscriptions indicate that the river god was worshiped at Rome, at Ostia, and elsewhere.84
Mommsen has conjectured 85 that the Festival of the Portunalia which occurred on August seventeenth was in honor of the Tiber; and he bases his conclusion on the fact that in the late calendar of Philocalus the day is also called Tibernalia. This seems to be evidence enough to identify the two. But, if this be the case, how are we to explain the keys and the gates which are regularly associated with Portunus? The rites of the Argei offer us a possible clue. On March sixteenth and seventeenth, as we have seen, a solemn procession made a circuit of the twenty-seven chapels called Argei located in various parts of the city. Rush puppets, bearing the same name and resembling bound men, were made in the chapels, where they reposed until May fourteenth and fifteenth, when the pontiffs and generals (Praetores) carried them in procession to the Sublician Bridge. Here the Vestals threw them into the river. The puppets may have represented, by substitution a survival of the time when old men had actually been sacrificed and thrown into the Tiber, possibly to pacify the river god for the building of the bridge. May it not be possible that the keys of Portunus were intended to unlock the various shrines in which the puppets had been placed prior to the procession?
The Romans worshiped not only springs and rivers but the waters of the sea as well. Neptune, afterwards identified with the Greek Poseidon, may possibly have been originally a god of fresh water;86 certainly the little we know about the Roman Neptune does not point to a sea god.
The Romans were not naturally given to navigation. We read frequently in the Roman poets about the impiety of the man who first entrusted his bark upon the ocean.87 Evidently there was a strong tradition that it was wrong to sail the sea. When, then, a Roman was compelled to embark upon the ocean, he performed sacrifice to appease the spirits of the waters. For example, Roman generals before departing by sea against the enemy regularly made sacrifice to the Tempests and to the waves of the sea.88 There was a temple of the Tempests near the Capene Gate, built by the Scipio who was consul in 259 B.C. after his fleet had been saved from shipwreck off the coast of Corsica. The epitaph of Scipio records the event.89 Readers of Vergil will remember that in order to secure favorable weather and a safe passage from Sicily, after celebrating games in honor of Anchises, AEneas offered sacrifice and libations to the Winds, to Neptune, and to the sea, before sailing against the enemy.90 The sacrifice was made both to Neptune and to the sea, showing that a distinction was made between the god and the sea. The sacrifice to the sea was a primitive survival.
This account of water worship may fittingly close with some notice of Jupiter as a rainmaker. In this capacity he is mentioned for the first time in literature by Tibullus.91 This seems strange in view of the common use of the expression Jupiter Pluvius in our own day. From the earliest times, however, the god was associated with rain-making; the non-appearance of the epithet Pluvius in ancient times may be accounted for by the fact that rain-making was a magic or quasi-magic ceremony, and hence no god need originally have been involved at all. The name Jupiter alone is frequently used by Roman writers for rain. Thus Vergil, in his seventh Eclogue (60), represents one of the shepherds saying: "And Jupiter shall descend in joyous rain."
Fire
Fire, like water, is regularly used to remove the harmful effects of contact with persons and things which are, as we say, taboo, and for driving away evils of all sorts, whether spiritual or physical. Thus persons who attended a Roman funeral had to be sprinkled with water and to walk over fire in order to remove the contagion of death--a rite usually called the "fire walk."92 Early man may have believed that he could thus set up a fiery barrier between himself and the spirits of the dead which were likely to harrow him. This possibility is suggested by similar rites among other peoples where the avowed purpose is apotropaic. Thus Frazer records 93 that ". . . The Tumbuku of Central Africa, on the shores of Lake Nyasa, resembled the Romans in practising both the barrier by fire and the barrier by water after a funeral; for on returning from a burial all who had taken part in it washed in a river, and after that, on their way home to the village, they were met by a native doctor or wizard, who kindled a great fire on the path, and all the mourners had to pass through the flames. . . ."
At the Roman Festival of Pales, in April, the farmer, his family, and his flocks jumped through three bonfires of bean straw;94 the object was to burn away evils, seen and unseen, and, in the case of women, to induce fertility by driving out all interfering influences. Ovid discloses the curious psychology of the worshiper when he says,95 "Consuming fire cleanses all things and refines the impurities from metal; therefore it cleanses sheep and shepherd." Rites similar to this, in which flocks are driven through bonfires, are common among many peoples. The usual purpose is to ward off witches. Sometimes, however, the object is to assist the growth of crops and flocks. Thus we read:96 ". . . at the Beltane fires, formerly kindled in the Highlands of Scotland on May Day (only ten days later than the Palilia), the person who drew the black lot (a piece of oatmeal cake blackened with charcoal) had to leap thrice through the flames for the sake of 'rendering the year productive of the sustenance of man and beast .......'"
I give one more illustration, taken from Italian religion. Every year, at the Festival of Apollo Soranus, at the base of Mount Soracte, certain priests called Wolves of Soranus walked barefoot over hot ashes without being burned.97 This miraculous immunity was due, as Varro suggests,98 to the fact that they had first treated their feet with some medicated preparation. We are not concerned here with the various problems in connection with the rite, but with the so-called "fire walk" which had many parallels among other peoples, ancient and modern; its purpose was doubtless, as in the case of the Roman "fire walk" after funerals, both cathartic and apotropaic. For similar reasons a bride had to touch fire as well as water.99
The Romans employed burning sulphur in magic as well as in religious rites. The reason for its use, in addition to its apotropaic powers as fire, is probably that sulphur possesses disinfectant, and medicinal properties, a fact which the Romans themselves recognized. Moreover, sulphur suggested to the Roman mind hot sulphur springs and volcanoes and the fears that these inspired. Again, the Romans believed that thunderbolts received their light from sulphur and that sulphur fumes accompanied a discharge of lightning.
We shall note a few instances of the magic and religious use of sulphur. Tibullus, while a witch droned incantations, purified his sweetheart Delia with burning sulphur, and thus, by performing an assisting magic rite, restored her to health.100 In the rites of the Festival of Pales, the shepherds burned sulphur, and its fumes purified the sheep.101 A similar rite has survived down to modern times in Esthonia, where the people on St. George's Day--within a few days of the time of the ancient Festival of Pales--used to purify the cattle with sulphur as a protection against witches.102
Not only sulphur but other combustible substances were used as purifying agents. A witch, for example, purified Tibullus from the harmful effects of magic by using blazing pine torches.103
One of the most frequent conceptions among savages is that love is fire and, more particularly, that fire represents the male principle and water the female principle.104 Hence transition is easy to the belief that maidens may be impregnated by fire. Among the Romans, miraculous impregnation by fire accounted for the birth of Servius Tullius, Romulus and Remus, and the King of Praeneste. Servius has told at length the story of the birth of the latter. He writes: 105
". . . There were once two brothers at Praeneste who were called divine. While their sister was sitting by the hearth, a spark, leaping out, pierced through her womb, and by it, as the story goes, she conceived and subsequently bore a child. She cast the boy away at the Temple of Jupiter. Some maidens, however, who were on their way to procure water, found and picked up the child near a fire which was not far away from the spring. From this circumstance he was called the son of Vulcan . . ."
We have noticed the use of fire as a purifying agent in magic and in religious rites and as the male principle in life. We have now to consider fire as a spirit, or, we should rather say, two spirits, for fire in its helpful aspect--in cooking the food and warming the home--was known as Vesta, while as a destructive force it was called Vulcan.
The Romans looked upon fire as a god. Ovid, for example, in a passage in which he seeks to explain the use of fire at the Festival of Pales, calls fire, as well as water, a god.106
The origin of the worship of Vesta--fire in its helpful aspect--goes back to primitive days when it was necessary to keep fire alive for the use of the community. The fire was in the care of the unmarried daughters of the family, who were, in reality, the priestesses of the sacred fire in the home. After the main course of the noon meal, silence was commanded, and a portion of the sacred salt-cake, made by the hands of the daughters of the home, was cast from a platter into the fire as a sacrifice to Vesta.107 As many of the religious forms of the Roman family had their counterpart in the State religion, so the worship of fire in the home had its counterpart in the Roman State religion.108 The seat of the worship of Vesta in Rome was the circular "temple" of Vesta, shaped like a primitive hut. Here Vesta--the sacred fire of the State--was tended by six maiden priestesses, who renewed it every year, on March first, from a spark formed by friction.109 There was no statue of Vesta in the "temple": the fire was the goddess herself. This fact shows the persistence with which Vesta resisted the anthropomorphizing influence in Roman religion.
The development of destructive fire into a god was quite natural. Early man saw that fire not only warmed his body and made his food more palatable, but burned down his hut and brought death and destruction in its wake. Vesta, as we have seen, was fire in its helpful aspect; Vulcan, on the contrary, was destructive fire. There is no reason why Vulcan, as fire, should have been worshiped at the hearth with Vesta, for Vesta was never considered a destructive force, nor was Vulcan ever, in historical times at least, considered beneficent.110 Vergil, Ennius and Roman writers generally gave the name Vulcan to destructive fire.111 Ostia was the seat of an ancient and flourishing cult of Vulcan, a fact due, doubtless, to the danger in the hot season to the granaries located on the Tiber. Here Vulcan had a temple, a pontiff, and a praetor, also an aedile for performing the sacrifices.112 At Rome the temple of Vulcan was appropriately located outside the walls of the city; there by rites and sacrifices the city was protected against fire.113
Vulcan was concerned in two Roman rites. In June, Fishermen's Games, so-called, were,celebrated across the Tiber by the City Praetor on behalf of the Tiber fishermen. The fish caught by the fishermen were taken, not to market, but to the Square of Vulcan, where they were offered alive on an altar to that god in place of human souls.114 On August twenty-third occurred the Festival of Vulcan, at a time when his aid would be necessary to avert fires which were likely to break out. Varro informs us 115 that people cast animals (presumably fish) into the fire "in place of themselves." In both these rites, the fish were offered as substitutes for human lives, which were thus to be saved miraculously from destructive fire. The fish, having come from the Tiber whose waters were used to extinguish fires, would be magically effective in preventing them. We gather one additional fact about the festival from one of Pliny's letters,116 in which we read that, on the night of the Festival of Vulcan, Pliny's uncle used to begin studying at night by lamplight--not, however, Pliny assures us, for luck. It would seem from this statement that the Romans used to light their lamps ceremonially on this night for good luck.
To summarize: We have seen in this chapter that in the period when early man was employing a magic act and an incantation, mechanically, to effect a desired result, he would address various objects in nature directly--a tree, a stone, a spring, a river, the sea, rain--with no feeling that these objects possessed spirits like himself. They were believed to have strange powers, potent for ill. Then, for various reasons which we shall mention shortly, he began to consider that these things possessed spirits much like his own. For he saw that things in nature moved just as he moved; that trees whispered when fanned by the winds; that forests roared when lashed by storms; that springs and rivulets babbled as they flowed; and thus gradually he came to people these objects with spirits like himself. Furthermore, dreams aided him in this; for he found that when he dreamed, his soul would fly away from the body for the time being, and that he would take with him and use the things which he normally had about him in his waking moments. Hence these, too, he peopled with spirits.
We have seen that the belief in the sanctity of stones is common to all peoples, and that the oak and the stone often are closely connected in worship, possibly because of their hard and enduring nature which can be magically communicated to person, thing, or action. Many of the stones worshiped by ancient peoples were meteorites. Thus the Romans used a meteorite in performing magic rites to produce rain. Inasmuch as the stone had fallen from the sky, it was magically equivalent to the sky, and hence could cause it to overflow with rain. A flint stone was the only representation of Jupiter Feretrius in historical times, and before that the oak seems to have been the dwelling place of the god. The flint and the oak were at first worshiped directly. The Romans used this stone in taking oaths and in treatymaking. They furthermore marked off boundaries with stocks and stones, and these were often considered sacred. At first the stone itself was worshiped, and then the spirit resident in it; but we have seen that the worship of the terminal stone probably never developed much further than the fetish stage.
The fact that sparks are produced by striking one stone against another must have created a feeling of awe among primitive peoples.117
The Romans, in common with all peoples, considered forests sacred. There were several reasons for this. In the first place, from the forest came dangers of all sorts, particularly wild beasts and enemies. It was natural, then, for early man to perform magic rites of aversion in the place from which these evils had come. Furthermore, trees move; and it is a common observation, as we have already noted, that primitive people associate motion of any sort in nature with animate life. The sounds, too, which came from the forest were, to the imagination of early man, human voices. He thus associated human life with trees, and often identified his own life with that of a particular tree. The death of the tree foreboded his own death. The fact that lightning so often strikes trees and kills persons under them doubtless led early man to fear them.
We are not surprised, then, to find that before a clearing was made in a forest in historical times the numerous spirits of the trees, as well as the evil spirits which haunted the forest, had to be appeased with sacrifice.
We have remarked, further, that the Romans considered water sacred, whether as spring, river, sea, or rain. The reason for this, as in the case of trees, may be partly the fact that primitive man associates motion of any sort with animate life. Further, the resemblance of the purling of springs to the human voice may have aided the animizing process.
The Romans used water from springs and from running streams to wash away the evil effeas of contact with persons and things possessing a mysterious power to harm. Since, in daily life, they found that water cleansed their bodies and their utensils, they believed that it was effective as well in washing away evils, seen and unseen. ne sprinkling of water at religious and magic ceremonies was a survival of an earlier washing. Springs, too, might cause as well as cure disease, if their waters were desecrated. Again, Roman business men had no scruples against using the waters of a holy spring to cleanse themselves and their wares after a shady business transaction.
It was religiously dangerous for a person to cross a running stream and, in certain cases, religious rites had to be performed before doing so. The sanctity of rivers may be due to the fact that every year they took their toll of human life; and this association of the river with the power to harm may ultimately have led to river-worship. Here, again, the motion of the river and the sound of its flowing waters aided the animizing process.
The worship of the sea was of late origin; and this is strange, for the Romans early came to dread that restless expanse which so often destroyed human life, which threw up on its shores strange creatures, and which later brought dangerous enemies; further, the curious rise and fall of its surface and the mysterious rhythmic churning of its waters added to its uncanniness. And so the Romans avoided the sea.
One of the earliest Roman worships was that of rain. Here, again, rain itself was addressed first, and then Jupiter, the maker of rain. Rain and Jupiter are often synonymous. Rain has the power to harm. It must, therefore, be induced to do good. Furthermore, the fact that rain came from the sky and was associated with destructive lightnings added an element of religious awe to it.
We have seen that the Romans regularly employed fire in magic and in religious rites in order to remove the harmful effects of contact with objects possessing dangerous powers--corpses, for instance. Furthermore, like savages of to-day, they set up bonfires and the "fire walk" as barriers between themselves and the spirits of the dead. This use of fire was both cathartic (to remove evils actually present) and apotropaic (to keep away potential evils, such as the spirits of the dead).
In rites of purification, sulphur was commonly used, because of the purificatory powers possessed by the fire itself. Further, sulphur possesses medicinal and disinfectant properties. Coupled with this, in the mind of the worshiper, were the association with awesome sulphur springs and volcanoes and the belief that lightning received its light from sulphur.
The Romans, in common with savages of to-day, believed that fire was the male principle in life. Consistently with this belief, they explained certain miraculous births through impregnation of a virgin by a spark from the hearth.
Fire in its helpful aspect was called Vesta; fire as a destructive force was known as Vulcan. Vesta never outgrew her character as a mere spirit, for the sacred fire was her only representation in the "temple" of Vesta. The conception of a god of destructive fire grew quite naturally from the realization that fire not only helped but also harmed.
Doubtless, at first, fire was conceived of as a single spirit. Hence it was possible for men to think of a maiden as impregnated by a spark from a hearth, whose fire, in historical times, was conceived of as feminine. With the growth in knowledge of the uses of fire in cooking and heating, this phase of fire became feminine, because fire for such purposes was employed by women in the house. The fire, however, which destroyed the forest had all the force of man, and so was considered masculine.
Footnotes
1 Chapter 1, pp. 16-24.
2 Edward Clodd, Animism, p. 22.
3 Chapter 1, p. 23.
4 Genesis XXVIII. 11-18.
5 Joshua XXIV. 26-27.
6 Pliny, Naturalis Historia II. 149-150.
7 A. B. Cook. Zeus, Vol. I. p. 520.
8 Lactantius, Divinae Institutiones I. 20.
9 Pliny, Naturalis Historia 11. 115.
10 Livy XXIX. 10 and 14.
11 See H. W. Howes. in Folk Lore XXXVIII (1927), p. 358.
12 Naturalis Historia XXVIII. 33.
13 See Chapter IV, pp. 133-135.
14 See review of J. P. Mills. The Ao Nagas, in Folk Lore XXXVIII (1927). P. 94.
15 Livy I. 10; Dionysius of Halicarnassus II. 34.
16 Festus: Lapidem silicem (Mueller, p. 115).
17 Livy I. 24. 4-9.
18 Servius on Vergil's Aeneid XII. 206.
19 Siculus Flaccus in Gromatici Veteres I. 141; the complete Latin text is to be found in Frazer, The Fasti of Ovid, Vol. II, p. 483, note 1. See also Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Antiquitates Romanae II. 74; Augustine, De Civitate Dei IV. 23; Fowler, The Roman Fertivals, pp. 324-327.
20 See F. B. Jevons, The Idea of God in Early Religions, p. 21.
21 For the Festival of Terminus see Ovid, Fasti II. 639-684; Horace, Epodi II. 59-60; Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Antiquitates Romanae II. 74; Festus: Terminus (Mueller, p. 368).
22 Plutarch, Quaestiones Romanae XV, Numa XVI. 1.
23 Aeneid VII. 172.
24 Livy IX. 36.
25 Livy I. 31. 3.
26 Vergil, Georgica I, 476-477; see also Pliny, Naturalis Historia XVII. 243.
27 Ovid, Fasti III. 295-296.
28 Naturalis Hisioria XII. 3.
29 I. 1. 11-12.
30 Fronto, Ad Verum Imperatorem II. 6 (Naber, p. 133).
31 De Agricultura CXXXIX.
32 The Fasti of Ovid, Vol, III. P. 352.
33 Florida I. 1.
34 Chapter III, p. 000.
35 H. Dessau, Inscriptiones Latinae Selectae 5047, 5048.
36 Ovid, Fasti II. 67-68, VI. 105-106; Festus: Furvum (Mueller, P. 93). See Georg Wissowa, Religion und Kultus der Romer, p. 236. The ascription of the Festus reference to Helernus depends upon Merkel's change in the manuscript reading Eterno to Elerno.
37 Suetonius, Augustus XCII. 1.
38 See Frazer. The Fasti of Ovid, Vol. II. p. 402.
39 Suetonius, Galba 1. 1 ; Pliny, Naturalis Historia XV. 137.
40 Suetonius, Vespasian, V. 2.
41 See G. W. Gilmore. Animism, pp. 51-58.
42 J. G. Frazer, The Golden Bough, Vol. XI, pp. 160-164; see also Ernest Crawley, Studies of Savages and Sex, pp. 172-173.
43 Festus: Lucaria (Mueller, p. 119).
44 For the Ficus Ruminalis see Livy I. 4, 5, X. 23, 12; Pliny, Naturalis Historia XV. 77; Varro, Res Rusticae II. 11, 5; Varro, De Lingua Latina V. 54; Servius on Vergil's Aeneid VIII. 90; Festus: Ruminalem (Mueller, p. 270) ; Plutarch, Romulus IV. 1; Augustine, De Civitate Dei VI. 10.
45 See Chapter Ill. pp. 000-000.
46 Suetonius, Caligula XXXV. 3.
47 Festus: Fagutal (Mueller, p. 87).
48 Livy I. 10; Dionysius of Halicarnassus II. 34; Propertius V (IV). 10.
49 III. 25.
50 See Frazer, The Fasti of Ovid, Vol. II, p. 385; Pliny, Naturalis Historia XVI. 235; Festus: Capillatam (Mueller, p. 57).
51 For lucky and unlucky trees see Macrobius, Saturnalia III. 20, 2; Festus: Felices (Mueller. p. 92).
52 See Servius on Vergil's Bucolica I. 52; Horace, Carmina I. 1, 22.
53 Folk Lore XXXVIII (1927), p. 117.
54 Folk Lore XXXVIII (1927), p. 362.
55 Ovid, Fasti IV. 759-760.
56 Seneca, Epistulae Morales XLI. 3.
57 VI. 47.
58 Tacitus, Annales XIV. 22.
59 III. 13.
60 Varro, De Lingma Latina VI. 22.
61 Fasti III. 300-302.
62 For this spring see: Plutarch, Numa XIII. 2; Ovid, Fasti III. 275-276; Juvenal III. 11-20; Livy 1. 19, 5, 1. 21, 3; Festus: Egeriae nymphae (Mueller, p. 77).
63 Frank Granger, The Worship of the Romans, p. 121.
64 Varro, quoted in Servius on Vergil's Aeneid XII. 139.
65 Claudianus, Carminum Minorum Corpusculum XLIX.
66 See Claudianus, De Sexto Consulatu Honorii Augusti 506-514.
67 Pliny, Epistulae VIII. 8.
68 Claudianus, loc. cit.
69 Pliny, Epistulae VIII. 20.
70 Naturalis Historia XXXI. 6-12.
71 Ovid, Fasti V. 673-682.
72 Servius on Vergil's Aeneid VIII. 33.
73 Festus: Peremne (Mueller, p. 245) ; Petronia (ibid., p. 250) Servius on Vergil's Aeneid IX. 24; Cicero, De Natura Deorum II. 3, 9; De Divinatione II. 36. 77. and Pease's note.
74 Apuleius, Metamorphoses I. 13.
75 R. M. Peterson, The Cults of Campania, p. 42.
76 W. Warde Fowler. The Roman Festivals, p. 214.
77 Ausonius, Opuscula X. 379-380.
78 Cicero, De Natura Deorum Ill. 52; Servius on Vergil's Aeneid VIII. 330.
79 Ethel M. Steuart, The Annals of Quinims Ennims, frag. 19, p. 6; Servius on Vergil's Aeneid VIII. 72; Livy 11. 10; J. G. Frazer, The Fasti of Ovid, Vol. IV. pp. 170-171.
80 Livy, loc. cit.
81 Sermones II. 3, 288-292.
82 Persius II. 3, 16.
83 Tacitus, Annales I. 79.
84 Lily R. Taylor, The Cults of Ostia, P. 34; Local Cults in Etruria, pp. 101-102.
85 C. I. L. p. 336 (second edition).
86 Von Domaszewski. Neptunus auf lateinischen Inschriften in Abhandlung zur romischen Religion, p. 19.
87 See Kirby Smith's note on Tibullus I. 3, 37-40; Vergil, Bucolica IV. 31-33.
88 Cicero, De Natura Deorum III. 20, 52.
89 H. Dessau, Inscriptiones Latinae Selectae, no. 3; Ovid, Fast; VI. 193.
90 Appian, Bellum Civile V. 11. 98.
91 I. 7,26.
92 Festus: Aqua et igni (Mueller, P. 3).
93 See note on Ovid, Fasti IV. 791, in Frazer, The Fasti of Ovid, Vol. III. p. 371.
94 Ovid, Fasti IV. 725-727, 781-782, 805; Tibullus II. 5, 89-90; Propertius V. 4. 75-78.
95 Fasti IV. 785-786.
96 Frazer, The Fasti of Ovid, Vol. III, P. 343.
97 For this rite see Pliny, Naturalis Historia VII. 19; Servius on Vergil's Aeneid XI. 784-785; Silius Italicus V. 175-181; Strabo V. 2, 9; Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Antiquitates Romanae III. 32. Compare Frazer's note on Ovid, Fasti IV. 553; he maintains that Feronia, not Apollo Soranus, was concerned in the rite.
98 According to Servius on Vergil's Aeneid XI. 785.
99 Plutarch, Quaestiones Romanae I.
100 Tibullus 1. 5, 9-12.
101 Ovid, Fasti IV. 739-740.
102 See Frazer's note on Ovid, Fasti IV. 739.
103 Tibullus 1. 2, 61.
104 Plutarch, Quaestiones Romanae 1; Varro, De Lingua Latina V. 61.
105 On Vergil's Aeneid VII. 678.
106 Fasti IV. 788.
107 Servius on Aeneid 1. 730. See W. Warde Fowler, The Religious Experience of the Roman People, p. 73.
108 Fowler, The Religious Experience of the Roman People, pp. 136-137.
109 See Ovid, Fasti III. 141-144; Festus: Ignis Vestae (Mueller, p. 106) ; Macrobius, Saturnalia I. 12, 6; Servius on Aeneid II. 296-297; Fowler, The Religious Experience of the Roman People, p. 136.
110 See H. J. Rose, Primitive Culture in Italy, pp. 43-44.
111 Aeneid V. 662, VII. 77; Ennius. quoted in Festus (Mueller, P. 153) under Metonymia; Tibullus 1. 9, 49-50; Fronto, Ad Marcum Caesarem IV. 5, 2 (page 68 in the edition of S. A. Naber).
112 See Lily Ross Taylor, The Cults of Ostia, pp. 14-20.
113 Vitruvius, De Architectura 1. 7. 1.
114 Festus: Piscatorii ludi (Mueller, p. 238).
115 De Lingua Latina VI. 20.
116 III. 5, 8.
117 See Frazer, Myths of the Origin of Fire, pp. 106 and 226.
