Thursday, May 12, 2016

Images, Amulets and Votives of the Danubian or Thracian Rider and the Great Goddess.

 
Thracian cavalry on a Greek vase.
WARNING: The author of this article is NOT a scholar of any kind. Any and all opinions expressed within are his own, and should not be mistaken for being authoritative in the least. He remains as perplexed as he was when he first encountered the Danubian / Thracian Rider votives, and as perplexed as ever regarding Thracian religion. Despite that, he hopes that some day he won't feel like a total idiot when attempting to parse these matters.

Heroized Gods and Great Goddesses
As individuals that follow me on other social media sites are probably aware: in recent months, I've been digging through the Campbell-Bonner magical gem database. Partially, this is to see what amulets correspond to spells and rituals in the Greek Magical Papyri, and how the voces magicae were applied to gems.

But while digging through them, I encountered a few carved gemstones, similar to other magical gemstones and amulets from late antiquity, that I want to comment on. They correspond to votives and images found in Rome and Eastern Europe, often featuring a Hero or Deity on horseback, or a pair of Horsemen facing what may be called a 'Great Goddess.' If this interpretation seems a little hazy, it is because there is no scholarly consensus as to who either the Horsemen (or Horseman) or the Goddess specifically represent. As if this was not complicated enough, there appears to be multiple disagreements over which cultures they belong to. However, they include symbolism and motifs that can be found in votives and reliefs, among other things, from Asia Minor, or Anatolia (modern day Turkey), Eastern, Central, and Western Europe. And at the very least, we can get a glimpse of those parallels.

In this entry, though I have few over-reaching conclusions. I can only point to the images themselves, and what I feel is evident in some of them, and to relevant articles on the subject.


Images and possible amulets of a lone Rider

Images of the Thracian and Danubian horseman by himself can be found in and on Thracian tombs, such as these two images of the Riders in combat (or in a ritual dance emulating combat, depending on the interpretation) such as those found at the tomb discovered near Alexandrovo in the year 2000, and believed to have been closed and turned into a tomb (possibly after being a mystery cult site) between the 2nd and 3rd centuries BCE. The image from the Southern wall is too damaged to be useful for our purposes, however the images over the Northern wall and Central Chamber are definitely worth taking a look at:

(Alexandrovo: Northern wall painting feating Thracian Horseman in combat or ritual. Source.)



(Alexandrovo: Wall painting over the central chamber. Source.)


Additionally, the Alexandrovo kurgan contains an image of the Thracian horseman, and a nude figure bearing a double-axe, in a hunting scene similar to those found on reliefs elsewhere:

(Alexandrovo: Central chamber fresco, depicting the Thracian horseman hunting a boar and possibly Zalmoxis wielding the Double-Axe. Source.)

One might compare it to a marble votive of the Thracian horseman, spear raised in the same position, dated to the 2nd or 3rd century (of the common era, I think?):

(Marble votive from Bulgaria. Source.)

A recent discovery, in Perperikon, Bulgaria, is a figurine of what is believed to by Apollo, wearing a Phrygian cap, with his arm positioned to throw a spear in the same style as those Rider votives that feature the hunting position.
(Apollo figurine from Perperikon.)


A number of those images I've consulted outside the gems have yielded inscriptions to Apollo, and sometimes even Asklepios (which we'll return to in a bit), and one cannot help but admire this relief made to Apollo-Sozon from about C.E. 225 – 250, from Anatolia / Asia Minor. In it, he bears both the Phrygian cap, and a Double-Axe similar to the nude figure from the Alexandrovo kurgan:

(Apollo-Sozon relief.)


One might compare it to the relief / frieze found at the Felix Romuliana in Serbia, in which the Horseman again appears to be carrying a Double-Axe:

(Felix Romuliana frieze. Source.)


Additionally, and I note and add these because they may play a role in syncretic images that appear later (such as St. George spearing the dragon), there are a series of gems in the Campbell-Bonner database that depict a singular horseman spearing a woman. These gems have been labeled variously as “Solomon spearing Lilith,” “the Holy Rider Spearing the Evil One,” and so forth. I cannot say for certain that they are not Judeo-Christian, but their style is reminiscent of the carved gemstones and amulets I will eventually get to and certainly belong with the Danubian Rider images:

(Gemstone: Rider on rearing horse spearing a female figure being trampled by his horse. 4th century CE. Source.)

(Gemstone: Pretty much the same as above, minus inscription on the back. 4Th - 5th century CE. Source.)


While I have limited myself to two images, there are at least a dozen of them in the depths of the database, all variously named, but all similar in images and motifs. I cannot prove in any form or fashion that they are linked to the others, but I strongly suspect that they are.

While the single rider can often be found hunting or in a ritual or battle, he can also sometimes simply be shown riding and making a gesture known as the Benedictio latino:

(Thracian rider from the Burgas museum in Bulgaria. 2nd century CE. Source.)

This gesture is important to note for later amulets and images, as it will appear again, but it is also seemingly associated with the Thracian cult of Sabazios specifically, and the votive hands that have been left behind and been called “the Hand of Sabazios,” such as this one from the British Museum:

(Hand of Sabazios from the British Museum. Source.)


Another of the above reliefs, this one from the 1st or 2nd century CE, is a grave relief featuring the Thracian Rider making the benedictio latina as he faces what I think is a tree with a giant snake wrapped around it:

(Thracian Rider. Source.)


Two Riders & a Great Goddess

There are also reliefs depicting two riders. One relief, found near Krupac, Yugoslavia, features two riders with what appears to be an altar featuring a coiled snake:

(Krupac figure. Source.)

Nora Demitrova comments that it is:

[...] a late-2nd century A.D. dedication to Apollo and Asklepios found in Krupac, in eastern Yugoslavia. The relief depicts two horseman facing each other […].”
Based on the inscription (which, frankly, I don't care to transcribe – see the PDF link above or view the article on the JSTOR link) she indicates:
“Thus one horseman is presumably Apollo, and the other Asklepios. The relief is most easily understood if we explain the rider as a convention for divinity of some kind, personalized by the inscription.”

It is particularly compelling because it contains both horsemen, which we begin to see in the votives for the Danubian Riders:

(Lead Danubian Rider votive. Belgrade museum. Source.)


These votives seem to include themes seen above in the Thracian and Danubian Rider images, as well as a central Goddess figure who has been variously argued to be the Celtic Goddess Epona, Artemis, Magna Mater, and probably at least four other Goddesses I don't even remember. The arguments back and forth seem to be somewhat furious, but it there does seem to be some overlap between the images of Epona feeding horses, and the Danubian Rider votives.

Take, for example, this relief image from Augustae, featuring both the Rider in a hunting position and the Goddess beneath, flanked by horses:

(Augustae relief. Source.)

And this image of Epona, enthroned, flanked by Horses:

(Epona relief. Source.)

Obviously, I do not intend to imply that the Goddess in the votives and reliefs and amulets is always Epona. I strongly suspect that she is always a 'Great Goddess,' that is a Goddess who rules the entire Sublunar realm, and that Epona is one of the syncretic strands the votives tie in to.

(Lead votive plaque for the Cult of the Danubian Rider. 1st century CE. Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. Source.)

(Lead icon of the Danubian Horsemen. Belgrade museum. Source.)


Finally, we come to the gemstones I encountered. Each of these has been interpreted as involving the Danubian / Thracian Riders, and Magna Mater. The riders, as on the votives above, flank and often make the Benedictio latina gesture to the Goddess. However they are also, as the single rider gems seen far above, show with their horses standing atop human bodies.

(Danubian Riders and Goddess. Venus Victrix on the reverse side. 2nd century CE. Source.)


(Goddess flanked by Riders wearing Phrygian caps. 3rd century CE. Source.)

(Danubian Riders, Goddess, animals, and busts of Selene and Helios. 2Nd - 3rd century CE. Source.)


And while I had hoped to make a few more comments and show a few more images, working on this entry has tired me out. So, at least if there is interest, I will have to return to writing about the subject and flashing images another day.

While I doubt anyone learned anything, I hope they at least appreciate the images.

Be seeing you,
Jack.

Monday, May 9, 2016

May 9th: Lemuria & Lemuralia

Mosaic featuring Romulus and Remus.
“It is an equal crime to eat beans and the heads of one’s parents.”
- Horace.

“Wretches, utter wretches, keep your hands from beans!”
- Empedocles.
I believe that at the heart of it, ancestor worship is about revering “the good” in one's ancestors and emulating those actions out of reverence and deference.

And yet, I suspect, there is something else. One of the problems that is emblematic of of online debates about ancestor worship is a general “all or nothing” attitude that one sometimes encounters: either an individual seems to be expected to worship every ancestor they have ever had on one end or one encounters those on the other side who declare that every ancestor they have ever had was a worthless bastard, and thus the practice is meaningless!

I find both attitudes to be deeply suspect. The latter issue I shall not discuss at length except to openly beg the question of: does anyone truly believe there is no one who has any redeeming elements in their entire genetic line and history? As for the earlier... Writing on the subject of belief in the dead, Lewis Bayles Patton comments that:

“Although, according to antique, the dead lost their physical powers, they lost none of their higher spiritual powers of knowledge, feeling, and will. Ancestors retained a keen interest in their posterity and actively intervened in their affairs. Enemies preserved their original hostility to their foes.”
(Spiritism and the Cult of the Dead in Antiquity. P. 4)
There is a question I feel inclined to ask: what does one do if their ancestor acts aggressively, as an enemy might? While it is easy to dismiss this possibility, there seems to be evidence that the ancients believed this could be the case:
“And Orpheus says: “Men performing rituals will send hekatombs in every season throughout the year and celebrate festivals, seeking release from lawless ancestors. [...]”
(Damascius, Commentary on the Phaedo 1.11.)

Today marks the occasion of just such a festival for release from lawless ancestors: May 9th (as well as the 11th and 13th of May), known to the Romans as Lemuria or Lemuralia. I feel I should let Ovid speak directly as to the nature of the festival:

When from that day the Evening Star shall thrice have shown his beauteous face, and thrice the vanquished stars shall have retreated before Phoebus, there will be celebrated an olden rite, the nocturnal Lemuria: it will bring offerings to the silent ghosts. The year was formerly shorter, and the pious rites of purification (februa) were unknown, and thou, two-headed Janus, wast not the leader of the months. Yet even then people brought gifts to the ashes of the dead, as their due, and the grandson paid his respects to the tomb of his buried grandsire. It was the month of May, so named after our forefathers (maiores), and it still retains part of the ancient custom.”
(Fasti, Book V.)

Later, after discussing the rites that the paterfamilias was expected to perform on the date, he explains the origin of the Festival:
“Why the day was called Lemuria, and what is the origin of the name, escapes me; it is for some god to discover it. Son of the Pleiad, thou reverend master of the puissant wand, inform me: oft hast thou seen the palace of the Stygian Jove. At my prayer the Bearer of the Herald’s Staff (Caducifer) was come. Learn the cause of the name; the god himself made it known.

When Romulus had buried his brother’s ghost in the grave, and the obsequies had been paid to the too nimble Remus, unhappy Faustulus and Acca, with streaming hair, sprinkled the burnt bones with their tears. Then at twilight’s fall they sadly took the homeward way, and flung themselves on their hard couch, just as it was. The gory ghost of Remus seemed to stand at the bedside and to speak these words in a faint murmur: “Look on me, who shared the half, the full half of your tender care, behold what I am come to, and what I was of late! A little while ago I might have been the foremost of my people, if but the birds had assigned the throne to me. Now I am an empty wrath, escaped from the flames of the pyre; that is all that remains of the once great Remus. Alas, where is my father Mars? If only you spoke the truth, and it was he who sent the wild beast’s dugs to suckle the abandoned babes. A citizen’s rash hand undid him whom the she-wolf saved; O how far more merciful was she! Ferocious Celer, mayest thou yield up thy cruel soul through wounds, and pass like me all bloody underneath the earth! My brother willed not this: his love’s a match for mine: he let fall upon my death – ‘twas all he could – his tears. Pray him by your tears, by your fosterage, that he would celebrate a day by signal honour done to me.”

As the ghost gave this charge, they yearned to embrace him and stretched forth their arms; the slippery shade escaped the clasping hands. When the vision fled and carried slumber with it, the pair reported to the king his brother’s words. Romulus complied, and gave the name Remuria to the day on which due worship is paid to buried ancestors. In the course of ages the rough letter, which stood at the beginning of the name, was changed into the smooth; and soon the souls of the silent multitude were also called Lemures: that is the meaning of the word, that is the force of the expression. But the ancients shut the temples on these days, as even now you see them closed at the season sacred to the dead. The times are unsuitable for the marriage both of a widow and a maid: she who marries then, will not live long. For the same reason, if you give weight to proverbs, the people say bad women wed in May. But these three festivals fall about the same time, though not on three consecutive days.”
So the festival itself goes back to the foundation of Rome, following the slaying of Remus by Romulus. It is a day in which the dead, wronged or angered or not, are propitiated so that they might be kept from harming their line in the days that follow.

In many respects, I cannot help but compare Lemuria to the Greek festival of Anthesteria, although we are entirely lacking in Dionysian elements (at least as far as I can tell). While they both fall on different dates (although this may be due to calendar changes, as Ovid seems to suggest) the places where they overlap are fascinating: in addition to propitiating the dead and holding that the time of the festival was their time (as well as 'dangerous' or 'impure'), the Vestals made mola salsa: a flour-based salted cake, made from the first wheat harvested that year. I cannot help but compare that act to the creation of pottage offered to Hermes Kthonios during Anthesteria, although I acknowledge that they are different: the Vestals would use the mola salsa again during sacrifices at Vestalia and Lupercalia. However, the fact that the 'first wheat' was used seems similar to my mind of the pottage made during Chytroi, which often included the first fruits and grains. The final similarity between the two is that both Anthesteria and Lemuria were considered “unlucky,” although the Romans felt that these three days rendered the entire month of may unlucky (and especially bad for marriages).

Sign of the Fig.

 As for the performance of the rites, Ovid's directions are more or less straightforward:

“When midnight has come and lends silence to sleep, and dogs and all ye varied fowls are hushed, the worshipper who bears the olden rite in mind and fears the gods arises; no knots constrict his feet; and he makes a sign with his thumb in the middle of his closed fingers (the Sign of the Fig), lest in his silence an unsubstantial shade should meet him.

And after washing his hands clean in spring water, he turns, and first he receives black beans and throws them away with face averted; but while he throws them, he says: “Haec ego emitto; his redimo meque meosque fabis.” (With these beans I redeem me and mine.)

This he says nine times, without looking back: the shade is thought to gather the beans, and to follow unseen behind. Again he touches water, and clashes Temesan bronze, and asks the shade to go out of his house. When he has said nine times, “Manes exite paterni!” (Ghost of my fathers, go forth!)
He looks back, and thinks that he has duly performed the sacred rites.”

On my end, I do not feel simply offering black beans to propitiate the ancestors is enough. The beans – which are a taboo object in certain cultures that associate them with the dead – are not all that I plan to offer, though. While I am perfectly content to propitiate and dismiss the more noxious ancestors, I find myself desiring to make honey-cakes for those ancestors who do their job. I am certainly not a Vestal virgin, and making mola salsa is perhaps not something I should do, but I still think even a festival such as this can include... less dramatic and fearful offerings. After all, it's what magicians do, and today is a good day to do it, I think.
“… prayers and sacrifices appease the souls, and the enchanting song of the magician is able to remove the daimones when they impede. Impeding daimones are revenging souls. This is why the magicians perform the sacrifice as if they were paying a penalty. On the offerings they pour water and milk, from which they make the libations, too. They sacrifice innumerable and many-knobbed cakes, because the souls, too, are innumerable.”
(The Derveni Papyrus.)

Be seeing you,
Faust.

EDIT: In the original version of this entry, I expressed hostility towards Helio and his thoughts on Polytheism.com. This blog entry was neither the place nor was it the time to do so, and more importantly, it appears I may have misunderstood what I read and - while responding emotionally - mischaracterized the entire discussion. For this, I apologize to the site management of Polytheist.com and Helio in particular. This month has been one of virulent fights all over, I have been reconsidering my interactions with others, and how and why I engage in such activities. The only way to fix this is to try and change my behavior, regardless of anything else.

Sunday, March 6, 2016

The Devil You Know.

Image taken from Legend of the Witches. (1969)

“The Man in Black sometimes plays on a Pipe or Cittern and the Company dance. At last the Devil vanisheth, and all are carried to their several homes in a short space. At their parting, they say: 'A Boy! Merry meet, merry part.'”
- Christina Hole, A Mirror of Witchcraft. (Chp. 2: “Coven and Sabbat: III. Meetings in Somerset. [Glanvil.])

Or Maybe You Ought to Know Him.
A few weeks ago, Pat Mosley published an interesting blog entry on Patheos in which he presented the case “inviting Satan back to Wicca” which generated a few responses (see here, here, and here. EDIT: And HERE! I should note that I share certain opinions with Bro. B.) All things told: Mr. Mosley's perspective is fascinating and if you have not read the blog entry yet, please feel free to take some time and browse it before returning for my response.

More recently, Aaron Leitch has weighed in on the topic, largely flipping the discussion on its head, which I will return to in a bit.

Moses. With Horns. But still not a God.
He is a God. You Know, with Horns.”

Early responses I saw to Mr. Mosley's thoughts varied, but some of them in particular stood out. One of these was the oft-repeated phrase seen in various Facebook comments to the point of: “Satan is not my Horned God!”

This phrasing, and many subsequent notions revolving around the “Horned God,” poses problems for almost any debate on the matter. One of these is that the titular God with Horns is identified variously, both within British Traditional Wicca (hereafter BTW) covens, and the name of the God can vary depending on the Tradition, and outside it. Inside the BTW structure, there can be no doubt as to who we worship: we know their names, and we shout their names and cry for joy and dance in their honor. But we've all taken oaths against revealing these names to the outside public, thus creating the need for the shorthand abstraction: “The Horned God.”

But in doing so, we open ourselves up to interpretations that may range far outside what was initially anticipated. When identifying the “Horned God,” those who worship him may refer to any number of Gods and individuals ranging from Pan, to Cernunnos, or even Herne the Hunter (who, as far as I know, was not a God, but did have horns). Given enough time, someone will inevitably discover that medieval images of Moses sometimes depict him with horns, and he'll be shoe-horned into the role... But I digress.

Nonetheless, the role of the Horned God, as a “Intercessor” is important regardless of who, specifically, the title refers to.


Even the Folk had Devils.

As I noted earlier, Mr. Leitch recently flipped the discussion on its head by arguing from a different train of thought as many of the others confronted by this debate. In his entry, he writes:
But then there is the folk Satan. The Satan of the common people, and the one described in the grimoires. He is very much akin to the Horned God of Wicca, the Lord of Nature and Spirits. He is the Man of the Crossroads, summoned for divination and favors. He is the trickster. If you draw upon Biblical imagery for him, he is the angel who accuses you of wrongdoing on behalf of God (that’s right, he works for the Big Guy in the Bible) and offers temptations much as Pan did before him. Christian tradition actually establishes Satan as the “god of this world,” in charge of physical reality (again, working for God) until Christ comes to establish a new celestial kingdom.”

In doing so, he takes the discussion along a trajectory that I quite enjoy.




In her Cunning Folk and Familiar Spirits, Emma Wilby recounts the complaint of a clergyman from Scotland recorded in 1677 regarding a fairy familiar that:
the vulgar call white deviles, which possibly  have neither so much power nor malice as the black ones have, which served our great grandfathers under the names of Brouny, and Robin Goodfellow, and, to this day, make dayly service to severals in quality of familiars.” (P. 16. Emphasis mine.)
 There is a sudden, curious orbit that we can take in the early modern period: it appears that even fairies, those elemental spirits beloved and known by the common individual (Agrippa's “poor and mean men”) could be understood as a type of “devil,” although certainly not as terrible as the typical demons of the Christian world. If we follow the orbit, we shall come upon precisely the sort of “folk devil” we are looking for.

In 1598 a wandering Scottish healer from Aberdeenshire by the name of Andrew Man gave a series of curious confessions: that he had become the consort of the Queen of the Fairies, and in doing so had gained the power to heal various illness and to encounter myriad spirits. Amongst these spirits was what appears to be the most idiosyncratic interpretation of the Devil:

“He knew Satan by the name of Christsonday, believing him to be an angel, clad in white clothes, and God’s godson, even though the latter had a ‘thraw’, or quarrel, with God, and was the lover of the elfin queen. Christsonday had marked the third finger of Man’s right hand, presumably in proprietal fashion. Man reported that the Fairy Queen had control of the whole craft but that Christsonday was the ‘gudeman’ who held all power under God.Furthermore he had seen dead men in the company of these two supranaturals, among them Thomas Rymour and James IV. Christsonday had appeared in the form of a horse (‘staig’) while the queen and her attendants rode on white steeds, when she convened to receive the obscene kiss. The accused attested that elves or fairies adopted the shape and clothing of ordinary men, though they were mere shadows, but more vigorous than mortals, and could indulge in playing and dancing whenever they pleased. The queen could choose to be old or young, could appoint anyone she liked as king, and could make love with whomsoever she wished. Although Man apparently met the elves in a fine chamber he would find himself in a moss, or bog, the next morning, their candles and swords turned into grass and straws; he had no fear of these creatures since he had known them all his days.”
- Edward J. Cowan, “Witch Persecution and Folk Belief in Lowland Scotland: The Devil’s Decade.” (In Witchcraft and Belief in Early Modern Scotland, Edited by Julian Goodaire, Lauren Martin, & Joyce Miller. P. 84.)

We might dismiss this entire confession, except that this is not the only confession from Scotland in which “Christonday” appears: in 1597, Christine (Christian) Reid was accused of peddling witchcraft due to her ongoing problems with Aberdeenshire millers.

Cowan writes:
“Christian Reid told Walter Miller that he and his mill were bewitched but if he would pay her she would provide a remedy, at least for the mill, because she could do little for him personally. Miller pronounced that he was not so concerned about his own health as he was about the mill. Since his surname was Miller his family had presumably followed the craft for some generations and he was thus mindful that they should continue to do so in the future. Reid consulted a witch who urged her to scatter some sand upon the mill-stones and wheels in the name of God and Christsonday so that the mill would operate in the old manner. And so due to the wrecking of the machinery, meal was ground in the old, less efficient way, presumably by hand.”
(Ibid, P. 81. Emphasis mine.)

And finally there is the figure of Marion Grant:
“She knew the Devil as Christsonday, carnally as well as socially, and had often danced with him and with ‘Our Ladye, a fine woman’, clad in a white petticoat. Grant allegedly claimed that she could charm a sword to ensure that its owner would never be wounded. The swordsman needed to hold the naked blade in his right hand kissing the guard, and then to make three crosses on the road with the weapon, in the name of Father, Son, Holy Ghost and Christsonday, a ceremony learned from the last-named, who also advised of a protective spell involving a cross made of rowan, or mountain ash, placed on a person’s right shoulder, before he turned round three times invoking the same foursome. The dreaded Scudder gathered a number of ‘deid folks baines’ from the kirkyard at Dyce, washing them lightly in water which she used on the sick William Symmer. She then ordered William’s mother-in-law to cast the bones into the River Don, whereupon ‘the water rumbled as if all the hills had fallen therein’. Such accounts seem to fit well with the attributed locations of witches’ conventions, in kirkyards, or at crossroads, mounds, hills, cairns and waters.”
(Ibid, P. 88.)
If these trials reflect anything, they reflect that fact that folk beliefs in the dead and fairies had combined with (often misunderstood) Christian themes, and yet individuals continued doing what their predecessors had done before them: talking with the spirits, receiving their aid, and having them play the role of the “Interecessor,” mentioned earlier.

In this sense, the folk devil – be it a “white devil” that is a fairy, a figure such as Christonday, or the spirits in the Grimoires – has perhaps more to do with witchcraft than the practitioners of modern witchcraft are keen to accept.

And perhaps they also have more to offer us than one would at first suppose.


Be seeing you,
Faust.