Lupercalia
Ancient Rome’s Fertility Festival
By
Brook Allen
Inside a cavern-like grotto overlooking the Circus
Maximus, Marcus knelt on the stone floor with the handful of other naked men
chosen to run for Lupercalia. Legend held this to be the very cave where a
she-wolf suckled Romulus and Remus.
Indeed, the Roman
festival of Lupercalia was grounded in the legend of Romulus and Remus—the twin
brothers who were destined to become synonymous with the founding of Rome. And
most of Rome’s attested history from the 7th and 8th
centuries BC does point to the Palatine Hill as being the original “acropolis”
of the city. Whether Romulus and Remus actually lived there—who knows? Back in
2007, an archaeological dig, beneath the Houses of Livia and Augustus, revealed
a grotto that some historians argue is the original Lupercal cave. However,
recent studies suggest it’s simply a nymphaeum.
Wherever the
location of the Lupercal cave was, each February 15th, young noblemen between
the ages of 20-40 were selected as “luperci” who would participate in purifying
and fertility-bestowing rites as they “ran the Lupercal”. Truly, the very name
of the month “February” is derived from two terms associated with Lupercalia.
First, there was a minor deity based on a god from Etruscan times, named
Februus. He was often likened to mythological fauns and since they had a
tendency for being randy, the Romans probably selected him to be honored in
this festival. Secondly, the strips of bloody skin from the sacrifices, used to
smack women in the hopes that they’d conceive, were known as “februa”.
One
priest handed him a narrow slice of goatskin to cover his loins. Marcus tied it
about his waist and between his legs. Bowing his head obediently, he opened his
hands. Within moments, slick warm strips of newly shredded dog and goat hide
februa were placed atop his palms. Clumsily, he braided them into a whip to be
used on women passing his way. Another priest offered him another silver basin
of blood, and he dunked the braided februa into it, letting it soak. After
removing it, his hands were red and dripping, as was the februa.
Typically, goat
and dog sacrifices were made as expiations against evil. They were then skinned
and used like whips to hit women who were hopeful of having children within the
year. To us, it sounds positively barbaric to have killed innocent animals (especially
dogs!) in this fashion and for this bizarre purpose. However, this was a
pre-Christian era rite and in Roman society at the time, animal sacrifice of
all sorts was a daily routine in temples throughout the city.
First
out of the cave, Marcus bolted down the narrow path where girls were already
waiting, hitching up tunics and exposing bare legs, thighs, and buttocks.
Warmth pulsed through his veins despite the chill air, warming him. The sight
of comely women baring extremities charged his blood.
The Lupercalia
must have been a rowdy festival, and also proves how superstitious the Romans
were, as even high-born women were happy to participate if being swatted by a
februa meant getting pregnant.
And that brings me
to my favorite Lupercalia story!
Marc Antony, my
main character in the Antonius Trilogy, was selected as one of the Luperci—the
men who ran the course of the Lupercal. His participation was not approved of
by everyone. Cicero in particular balked at the thought of a serving consul
running through the streets half naked. But Antony being Antony probably LOVED
every minute of it! However, the mention of his current office enables us to
date this Lupercal event to 44 BC. This was but a month away from Caesar’s
demise on the Ides of March.
Militarily
trained, he ran well ahead of the others. Women and men pressed close about
him, screaming. Now at the foot of the Palatine, he entered the Forum. The
Lupercal route through Rome would end at the Rostra, where Caesar waited,
sitting on a recently bestowed golden throne.
Most people
probably recall this story from Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar; Antony
offering Caesar a crown repeatedly, and Caesar turning it down… Well, far from
being legend, this incident probably really happened.
Plutarch, a biographer living
at the end of the 1st century AD tells about it in detail in his Life
of Antony. Nobody knows for sure, but it’s likely that Caesar put his
fellow consul up to the task, curious as to the opinion of the people regarding
a possible kingship.
So is there any
relation between Lupercalia and Valentine’s Day? Well, there was a beloved
Christian back in the 3rd century AD known as Valentine. He was
martyred on February 14th—the day before Lupercalia. Known
for assisting captured Christians and helping young couples who were Christians
to safety during one of the later persecution periods, he was a beloved figure.
After Lupercalia was banned and Christianity legalized, Valentine was canonized
and honored on the supposed date of his martyrdom—February 14th. Thus
began the yearly celebration, known as St. Valentine’s Day.
 |
| Saint Valentine. |
In researching the ties between the ancient rites of Lupercalia and how they might have “morphed” into Valentine’s Day, I’m skeptical that that was the case here. There may have been some symbolism, such as the color red—originally the color of a bloody februa, used in the fertility rite. But even that seems to be a stretch. There just isn’t much hard evidence that the Lupercalia “became” Valentine’s Day.
Roman history
lover that I am, I’ll keep them separate. I’ll accept my roses from my husband
with a broad smile and a kiss and leave the running of the Lupercal to my main
man, Marcus!
Bare
feet hammering the pavement, sweat beaded Marcus’s forehead, spiting the cold.
Every single exhale turned to mist in the clear morning air. Prostitutes at a
food stall whistled and called as he passed, admiring his lean, powerful body.
His muscles were rigid whenever he stopped suddenly or whirled about, lashing
out with his februa to switch a hopeful female. Part of the crowd started
shouting his name in rhythm, so he lifted his februa, grinning and waving at
them in response.
(Italicized
portions are from Brook Allen’s Antonius: Second in Command)
Antonius: Son of Rome
By Brook Allen
For over two-thousand years, Marcus Antonius—Marc Antony—has been one of history’s most controversial men. His story was buried with him and written by his enemies. Now his entire saga is revealed in a compelling trilogy by Brook Allen.
After young Marcus Antonius’s father dies in disgrace, he yearns to restore his family’s honor during the final days of Rome’s dying Republic. Marcus is rugged, handsome, and owns abundant military talent, but upon entering manhood, he falls prey to the excesses of a violent society. His whoring, gambling, and drinking eventually reap dire consequences. Through a series of personal tragedies, Marcus must come into his own through blood, blades, and death. Once he finally earns a military commission, he faces an uphill battle to earn the respect and admiration of soldiers, proconsuls, and kings. Desperate to redeem his name and carve a legacy for himself, he refuses to let warring rebels, scheming politicians, or even an alluring young Egyptian princess.
The Coffee Pot Book Club
Book of the Year Award Winner
Antonius: Second in Command
By Brook Allen
The Antonius saga continues…
Having proven himself as a formidable cavalry commander, Marcus Antonius finally earns a position at his kinsman Julius Caesar’s side. However, Caesar is an exacting general, demanding complete allegiance from his staff, even when his decisions put him at odds with the Senate. Marcus’s loyalty to Caesar comes at a cost, and he soon finds himself embroiled in mob violence and military mutinies. As civil war brings Rome’s Republic crashing down, many a relationship is torn asunder, including Marcus’s marriage. Determined to rise triumphant in Rome’s new era, Marcus faces his fears, his failures, and his enemies—not the least of whom is himself.
Amid the crisis of the Ides of March, Marcus must don the mantle of ruthlessness to carve his own legacy in Rome’s history. Enemies have been made, wills have been read, and heirs proclaimed.
But in Rome’s civil unrest, blood answers only to blood.
Brook Allen
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