Plutarch · a new plain-English translation from the original language
The great name of Rome, which has spread through fame among all mankind, is not agreed upon by the historians as to who gave it to the city and for what reason, but according to some, the Pelasgians, having roamed across a great part of the inhabited earth and conquered most of its peoples, made their settlement here, naming the city for their martial strength (rhome),
while others say that some who had escaped when Troy was captured, and who had come upon ships, were carried by winds to Tyrrhenia, and put in near the river Thybris; and that their women, being already at a loss and impatient with the sea, were persuaded by one of them—who seemed both to excel in birth and to be the most sensible—whose name was Rhome, to burn the ships.
Once this was accomplished, the men were furious at first; yet, forced by circumstance, they made their settlement around the Palatine, and before long things turned out better than they had expected, for the ground proved fertile and their neighbors received them kindly; and so they granted Rhome a still greater honor, naming the city after her as its cause.
From that time, they say, it has remained the custom for kinswomen and womenfolk to greet their male relatives with a kiss on the mouth: for those women too, when they had burned the ships, greeted and made much of the men in this way, begging them and trying to turn aside their anger.
Others say that Rhome, daughter of Italus and Leucaria (or, as some say, of Telephus the son of Heracles), who had been married to Aeneas (or, as others say, to Ascanius the son of Aeneas), gave the name to the city; others that Romanus, son of Odysseus and Circe, founded the city; others that Rhomus, son of Emathion, sent from Troy by Diomedes, did so; still others that Rhomis, ruler of the Latins, expelled the Tyrrhenians, a people who had migrated from Thessaly to Lydia and thence from Lydia into Italy. Nor indeed do those who declare Romulus, by the most just of the accounts, to be the one after whom the city is named agree among themselves about his lineage.
For some claim he was born to Aeneas and to Dexithea, daughter of Phorbas, and that as an infant he was brought to Italy together with his brother Rhomus; and when the river flooded and destroyed all the other boats, the one carrying the children drifted gently onto a soft bank, and, being saved unexpectedly, was given the name Rhome.
Others say that Rhome, daughter of that Trojan woman, married to Latinus the son of Telemachus, bore Romulus; still others hold that Aemilia—child of Aeneas and Lavinia—lay with Ares and bore him. Still others relate a story wholly mythical about his birth. For to Tarchetius, king of the Albans, a most lawless and cruel man, a divine apparition appeared at home: a phallus rose up out of the hearth and remained there for many days.
There was in Tyrrhenia an oracle of Tethys, from which a response was brought to Tarchetius, that a virgin should have union with the apparition; for from her would be born a most illustrious child, surpassing in virtue, fortune, and strength. So Tarchetius told the oracle to one of his daughters, and ordered her to have union with the phallus; but she thought herself unworthy of it, and sent in a servant girl instead.
When Tarchetius learned of this he was harshly angry, and seized both women to put them to death; but in a dream Hestia came to him and prohibited the killing, and so he charged the girls to weave a certain web while bound, on the understanding that when they had finished weaving it they would be given in marriage. So they wove by day, but Tarchetius ordered other women to unravel the web by night. And when the servant girl bore twins from the phallus, Tarchetius gave them to a certain Teratius, and ordered him to do away with them.
He carried them off and set them down near the river, where a she-wolf came and gave them her teat, and birds of every kind brought scraps of food and placed them in the infants' mouths, until a herdsman saw them, and in wonder dared to approach and take up the children. Having been saved in this way, when they were grown they attacked Tarchetius and overpowered him. This account, at any rate, is given by a certain Promathion, who composed a history of Italy.
But the version most widely credited and best attested was set down for Greek readers, in its essential outline, by Diocles of Peparethus; Fabius Pictor, too, followed this account in most of its details. There have been various divergences even about these matters, but in outline the story is as follows.
The succession of the kings descended from Aeneas at Alba came down to two brothers, Numitor and Amulius. When Amulius divided everything into two parts, and set against the kingship itself the treasure and the gold that had been brought from Troy, Numitor chose the kingship. Amulius, then, having the money and being more powerful because of it than Numitor, took the kingship from him easily, and, fearing that children might be born from Numitor's daughter, appointed her priestess of Hestia, to live forever unmarried and a virgin.
This woman some call Ilia, others Rhea, others Silvia. Not long after she is caught pregnant, contrary to the established law for the priestesses of Hestia; and the king's daughter Antho begged her father that she should not suffer an irreparable fate, and so pleaded on her behalf; but she was shut up and kept in confinement so that Amulius should not learn of her giving birth. She bore two children, extraordinary in size and beauty.
For this reason Amulius, all the more afraid, ordered a servant to take them and throw them away. Some say this man was called Faustulus, others that it was not he but the one who took them up. So he put the infants into a trough, went down to the river meaning to throw them in, but seeing it coming down in a great and rough current, was afraid to go near, and, setting the trough down near the bank, went away.
The river, overflowing, took up the trough with its flood and gently carried it, lifting it up, to a fairly soft spot, which they now call Cermalus, but which was formerly called Germanus, it seems because they also call brothers 'germani.'
Close by stood a wild fig, given the name Ruminalis—so called, most people suppose, after Romulus himself, or perhaps because cattle would rest chewing their cud in its shade, or, most likely, because of the infants' suckling, since the ancients called the teat 'ruma,' and they name a certain goddess who is thought to watch over the nursing of infants Rumina, and offer her sober libations, and pour milk over the sacrifices.
There, then, as the infants lay, they say the she-wolf was seen suckling them, and a woodpecker was also present, helping to feed and guard them. These creatures are held sacred to Ares, and the Latins especially venerate and honor the woodpecker; and this above all gave credit to the mother's claim that she had borne the children by Ares. Yet they say she was deceived into this misfortune, having been violated by Amulius, who appeared to her in armor and forced himself upon her.
Others say that ambiguity over the nurse's name gave the story its mythical turn: for the Latins called both she-wolves among beasts and women who were prostitutes 'lupae'; and such, they say, was the wife of Faustulus who nursed the infants, Acca Larentia by name. To her too the Romans offer sacrifice, and the priest of Ares brings her libations in the month of April, and they call the festival the Larentalia.
They honor another Larentia for the following reason. The temple-keeper of Heracles, being at a loss it seems from idleness, challenged the god to a dice match, on terms that if he himself came out ahead he would receive some benefit from the god, whereas should he be defeated he would furnish the god a lavish table and a lovely woman to share his bed.
Having thrown the dice, some for the god and some for himself, he turned out to have lost. Determined to honor his word and holding it proper to stand by the agreement reached, he laid on a dinner for the god, and hired Larentia, who was then in her bloom but not yet famous, and feasted her in the temple, having spread a couch, and after dinner shut her in, as though the god were to have her.
And indeed they say the god did have intercourse with the woman, and bade her go at dawn to the marketplace, and make a friend of the first man she met after greeting him. So there met her a citizen advanced in years and who had amassed a sufficient fortune, but who was childless and had lived without a wife, named Tarrutius.
This man came to know Larentia and grew fond of her, and when he died he made her the heiress of a great deal of valuable property, most of which she willed over to the people. It is said that she, being already famous and thought beloved of the gods, vanished from sight around the place where that earlier Larentia was also said to lie.
Velabrum is the name given to that place today, since in times when the river repeatedly rose over its banks, people would be ferried across right there heading toward the marketplace; and the word for ferrying in their tongue is 'velatura.' Some say instead that those who provided the spectacle used to cover with awnings the passage leading from the marketplace to the circus, beginning there; and in the Roman tongue they call an awning 'velum.' For these reasons the second Larentia is held in honor among the Romans.
The infants were taken up by Faustulus, Amulius's swineherd, unbeknownst to everyone; or, as some say, who keep closer to what is likely, with Numitor's knowledge, who secretly supplied provisions to those raising them. And the boys are said to have learned letters and other things, as befits the well-born, having been sent to Gabii.
They say these two were also called Romulus and Remus from the teat, because they were seen suckling from the beast. Now the nobility in their bodies, even while they were infants, at once showed forth their nature in size and appearance, and as they grew they were both high-spirited and manly, possessing a mind undaunted before whatever seemed fearful and courage altogether unshaken; but Romulus seemed to have the better judgment and to possess political understanding, showing in his dealings with the neighbors over pastures and hunting grounds a good deal of insight into one born by nature to lead rather than to obey.
For this reason they were beloved by their fellow slaves and those of lower station, but looked down on the king's overseers and bailiffs and herd-masters as being no better than themselves in worth, and gave no thought to their threats or their anger. They pursued pastimes and pursuits befitting free men, not counting leisure and ease as the mark of freedom, but rather exercises, hunting, running, and fending off robbers, catching thieves, and rescuing the wronged from violence. For these reasons they became famous far and wide.
A dispute having arisen between Numitor's herdsmen and those of Amulius over the driving off of cattle, the brothers would not put up with it, but struck them down and routed them, and carried off a good part of the herd. Though Numitor was angry, they thought little of it, and gathered and welcomed many needy men and many slaves, thereby laying the beginnings of a rebellious boldness and spirit.
While Romulus had turned aside to attend to a sacrifice (for he was fond of sacrificing and of divination), Numitor's herdsmen, coming upon Remus walking with a few companions, fell to fighting with him, and when blows and wounds had been exchanged on both sides, Numitor's men prevailed and took Remus alive. He was brought before Numitor and accused, but Numitor did not punish him himself, fearing his brother, who was harsh; instead he went to Amulius and asked to obtain justice, since he was Amulius's brother and had been insulted by the servants of one who was a king.
When the people of Alba shared his indignation and thought the man had suffered unjustly, Amulius was moved and handed Remus over to Numitor, to deal with him as he wished. Numitor took him, and when he came home, marveling at the young man's physique, since he surpassed all in size and strength, and seeing in his face the boldness and vigor of his spirit unenslaved and unshaken by his present circumstances,
and hearing that his deeds and actions matched what he saw, and above all, it seemed, that a god was present with him and guiding the beginnings of great undertakings, seizing upon the truth through suspicion and chance, he asked him who he was and how he had come to be, addressing him in a gentle voice and with a kindly look that inspired trust along with hope.
Taking courage, Remus said: "But I will hide nothing from you; for indeed you seem more kingly than Amulius. You listen and question before punishing; but he hands men over without a trial. Up to now we took ourselves for sons of Faustulus and Larentia, who serve the king (we are twin brothers); but now that we have come under accusation before you and under slanders and contests for our lives, we hear great things about ourselves; and whether they are to be trusted, the present danger seems now about to decide."
"Our birth, they say, is unspeakable; our upbringing and nursing were still stranger for newborns, since we were cast out to birds and beasts, and were nourished by them—a she-wolf gave suck, and a woodpecker brought scraps—while we lay inside a trough beside that mighty river. That same trough survives to this day, kept safe and bound about with bronze bands on which faint letters are engraved, which might perhaps later prove useless tokens for our parents, once they are lost to us."
Numitor, then, from these words, and reckoning the time by looking at his face, did not flee the hope that was creeping over him, but took thought how he might secretly meet with his daughter and speak with her about these matters; for she was still kept under close guard.
When Faustulus heard of Remus's arrest and his handing-over, he thought it right to go help Romulus, at that point explaining to him plainly about his birth—before this he had only hinted and indicated so much as would keep him from thinking small of himself. He himself, carrying the trough, went off toward Numitor, full of haste and fear because of the crisis.
So he aroused the suspicion of the guards at the gates of the king, and, being eyed with suspicion by them and thrown into confusion by their questioning, he did not escape notice as he wrapped the trough in his cloak. There happened to be among them one of the men who had taken the infants to expose them and had been present at the exposure. This man, seeing the trough then and recognizing it by its make and the letters on it, hit upon a suspicion of the truth, and did not neglect it, but reported the matter to the king and had Faustulus brought in for questioning.
Under many great constraints Faustulus neither kept himself entirely unyielding, nor, though pressed hard, was he wholly forced to break: he admitted that the boys were alive, but said they were far from Alba, tending flocks; he himself, he said, was carrying this news to Ilia, since she had often longed, in firmer hope, to see and touch her children.
Now what commonly happens to men thrown into confusion and acting in fear or anger over anything, this is what befell Amulius. For he sent, in haste, a man otherwise decent and a friend of Numitor, ordering him to inquire of Numitor whether any report had reached him that the boys were alive.
So the man came and, seeing Remus at that very moment in the embraces and affectionate greetings of Numitor, made the man's faith in his hope strong, and urged him to lay hold of matters quickly, and now joined them and worked together with them. And the moment itself did not allow even those willing to hesitate to hold back. For Romulus was already near, and no small number of the citizens ran out to him, out of hatred and fear of Amulius.
He brought with himself also a large force organized into companies of a hundred; and each company had a man leading it who held up, on a pole, an armful of hay and brushwood—the Latins call these maniples, and from that even now in the armies they call such men maniple-commanders. At the same time, as Remus was stirring up those within and Romulus was advancing from outside, the tyrant, having done nothing and planned nothing to save himself, from helplessness and confusion, was seized and killed.
Most of this is told both by Fabius and by Diocles of Peparethus, who appears to be the earliest writer to have set down this story of Rome's founding; the theatrical, invented feel of it breeds doubt in some, but one ought not to disbelieve, seeing what sort of works Fortune is a craftsman of, and reckoning up the affairs of the Romans—how they would never have advanced to such power had they not taken some divine beginning, one containing nothing small or unremarkable.
When Amulius had died and affairs were settled, they were unwilling either to dwell in Alba, since they were not its rulers, or to rule it while their grandfather still lived; so, having restored the rule to him and given fitting honors to their mother, they decided instead to settle apart on their own, founding a city in the places where from the beginning they had been reared—for this was the most fitting of the reasons.
It was, perhaps, necessary, since many household slaves and runaways had gathered to them, either to be utterly undone if these were scattered, or to dwell together privately with them. That Alba's own people considered it wrong to blend these runaways into their community or grant them citizenship was demonstrated first by what was done regarding the women—an act ventured not out of insolence but out of necessity, from the want of willing marriages; for they honored the women exceedingly by seizing them.
Then, as the city was receiving its first foundation, they built a certain sanctuary of refuge for those fleeing to them, which they called the shrine of the God of Asylum, and they received everyone, handing over neither a slave to his masters, nor a hired man to his creditors, nor a murderer to the magistrates, but declaring, by an oracle given at Delphi, that they made the asylum sure for all—so that the city quickly grew full, since they say the first households numbered no more than a thousand. But this happened later.
As soon as they set out to found the city together, a dispute at once arose between them over the place. Romulus founded the so-called Roma Quadrata (that is, "the square one"), preferring to raise the city there, but Remus chose a strong position on the Aventine, which was named Remoria after him, though it is now called Rignarium.
Having agreed to let favorable birds arbitrate their dispute, and sitting apart from each other, they say six vultures appeared to Remus, but twice as many to Romulus; others say Remus truly saw his, but Romulus lied, and that when Remus came, then the twelve appeared to Romulus—which is why even now the Romans especially use vultures in taking auspices. Herodorus of Pontus records that Heracles too rejoiced when a vulture appeared before an undertaking.
For it is the most harmless of all creatures, doing no damage to anything men sow or plant or pasture, and it feeds on dead bodies, and kills nothing nor does harm to anything possessing life, and because of kinship with birds it does not even approach their corpses. But eagles and owls and hawks strike down and kill their own kind while still living; and yet, in Aeschylus's words, how could one bird be pure that feeds on another bird?
Further, the other birds circle about, so to speak, right before our eyes and constantly present themselves to our notice, whereas one seldom catches sight of a vulture, and vulture chicks are hardly ever come upon; this too has given some a strange suspicion, that they come down here from some other land, its rarity and inconstancy being, as the seers hold, a mark of what is not natural nor of itself, but appears by divine dispensation.
When Remus learned of the deception, he grew angry, and as Romulus was digging the trench along which the wall was to run, he mocked some parts of the work and got in the way of others. At last, as he leapt across it, they say he fell there, struck—some say by Romulus himself, others by one of his companions, Celer.
Faustulus too fell in the fighting, and Plistinus, who they record was Faustulus's brother and had joined in raising Romulus and his companions. Celer withdrew to Tyrrhenia, and from him the Romans call swift and sharp men "celeres"; and they gave Quintus Metellus this surname, "Celer," in admiration of the speed of his preparation, because when his father died he put on a gladiatorial contest within a few days.
Romulus, having buried Remus together with his foster-parents at Remoria, set about founding the city, summoning men from Tyrrhenia who guided every step by certain sacred rites and writings and taught it as in an initiation. A circular pit was excavated in the area that is now the Comitium, and into it were placed first-fruits of everything reckoned good by convention and needed by nature. And at the end each man, bringing a small portion of earth from the land he had come from, cast it in together and mixed it in.
This pit they call, by the same name as Olympus, "mundus." Then, as if with a compass, they traced the city in a circle around a center. The founder fitted a bronze plowshare to a plow, put a bull and cow together under the yoke, and himself drove them, cutting a deep furrow along the boundary lines, while it was the task of those following to turn inward the clods the plow threw up, and let none turn outward be overlooked.
With this furrow-line they lay out where the wall is to run, and the term "pomerium" arose by contraction, meaning as much as "behind the wall" or "after the wall"; wherever they intend to set a gate, they take out the plowshare and lift the plow over, making a gap. Hence they consider the whole wall sacred except the gates; but considering the gates sacred was not possible without scruple, since through them they must let in and send out things necessary yet not clean.
It is agreed that the founding took place on the day eleven days before the Kalends of May, and the Romans keep this day as a festival, calling it the birthday of the fatherland. At the beginning, as they say, they sacrificed no living thing, but thought they ought to keep the feast named for the birth of their fatherland pure and bloodless. Yet even before the founding they had a certain pastoral festival on this day, and called it the Parilia.
Now the Roman new moons agree in nothing with the Greek; but that day on which Romulus founded the city, they say, happened to fall exactly on the thirtieth, and that an eclipse of the sun by the moon occurred on it—which they think even Antimachus of Teos the epic poet knew of, it having coincided with the third year of the sixth Olympiad.
In the era of the philosopher Varro, a scholar deeply versed in Roman antiquities, he had a friend named Tarutius, otherwise a philosopher and a mathematician, who had taken up, for the sake of theory, the study concerning the astrological chart, and was thought to be exceptional in it.
To him Varro proposed that he trace back Romulus's birth to a day and hour, making his calculation from the reported outcomes of the man's life, just as the analyses of geometrical problems guide the way—for it belongs to the same science to take the time and foretell the course of a man's life, and, given the life, to track down the time.
Tarutius then complied with the request, and after reviewing the man's experiences and exploits, and weighing together the span of his life, how he died, and other details of that kind, he declared, quite boldly and confidently, that the conception of Romulus in his mother's womb had occurred in the second Olympiad, in its first year, during the Egyptian month of Choiak, on its twenty-third day, at the third hour—the moment when the sun was wholly eclipsed—and that he came visibly into the world in the month of Thoth, on its twenty-first day, close to sunrise;
and that he laid Rome's foundations on the ninth day of Pharmuthi, sometime between the second hour and the third. For they hold that a city, no less than a man, has an allotted lifespan, to be reckoned from its first origin by reference to the positions of the stars. But these things, and such as these, will perhaps recommend themselves to the reader more by their strangeness and singularity than trouble him through their mythical character.
When the city had been founded, first he divided all who were of military age into companies. Each company consisted of three thousand foot and three hundred horse. It was called a "legion," because the fighting men were picked out from all. Then he used the rest as the common people, and the multitude was named "populus"; and he appointed a hundred of the best as senators, and these he called "patricians," and the body he named the "senate."
"Senatus," strictly, means "council of elders"; and as for why the senators were called "patricians," some say it was because they were fathers of legitimate children, others rather because they could show fathers of their own—which was not the case for many of those who had first streamed together into the city; others trace it to "patronage," the name they gave then, as now, to the office of protector, holding that a man called Patron, among those who had accompanied Evander, was so attentive and useful to those weaker than himself that his own name became attached to the custom.
One would come nearest the truth by supposing that Romulus wanted the leading and most powerful men to watch over the common people the way a father watches over his own, while also teaching the rest not to fear or resent the honors of their betters, but to treat and regard and address them with goodwill as fathers, named them so accordingly.
For indeed, even to this day, those who serve in the senate are called by outsiders "lords," but the Romans themselves call them "enrolled fathers," using the name that carries the greatest dignity and honor with the least envy. At first they called them only "fathers," but later, as more were added, they called them "enrolled fathers."
This, then, was a more solemn name for him, marking the distinction of the senatorial order from the common people; by another distinction he divided the powerful from the many, calling the former "patrons," which is "protectors," and the latter "clients," which is "dependents": and at the same time he produced between them a remarkable mutual goodwill and a great set of obligations. For the patrons offered themselves as expounders of the laws, and as advocates for their clients in lawsuits, and as counselors and guardians in every matter,
while the clients in turn served them, not only honoring them, but also, when the patrons were poor, joining in giving away their daughters in marriage and helping pay off their debts; and no law nor magistrate compelled a client to testify against his patron, or a patron against his client. Later, though the other obligations remained, it was thought shameful and ignoble for the powerful to take money from the humbler. So much, then, for these matters.
In the fourth month after the founding, as Fabius records, the seizure of the women was ventured. Some say that Romulus himself, being warlike by nature, and persuaded by certain oracles that Rome was fated, nourished and increased by wars, to become greatest, was the one who set this violence against the Sabines in motion—seizing only thirty young women rather than a great number, since what he wanted was a pretext for war, not wives.
But this is not likely: rather, seeing the city at once filling up with settlers, few of whom had wives, while the majority, being a mixed lot of poor and obscure men, were looked down upon and not expected to hold together securely, and hoping that the wrong done would in some way afford a beginning of mixture and fellowship with the Sabines once they held the women as hostages, he set about the deed in this manner.
A story was first spread by him, that he had found an altar of some god hidden beneath the earth. They called the god Consus, either as a god of counsel (for even now they call a council a "consilium," and the consuls "consules," as it were counselors), or as Poseidon Hippios, the Horse-god. For the altar is in the larger of the racecourses, hidden the rest of the time, but uncovered during the horse-races.
Others say outright that, since the plan was secret and concealed, it was not without reason that the altar of the god came to be underground and hidden. But once it was revealed, he celebrated upon it a splendid sacrifice, together with games and a public spectacle proclaimed in advance. Many people gathered together, and Romulus himself sat in front with the chief men, adorned in purple.
The signal for the moment of the attempt was this: he was to rise, fold his purple robe, and put it on again. Many men, therefore, holding swords, kept watch on him, and when the signal was given, they drew their swords and, rushing forward with a shout, seized the daughters of the Sabines, while they let the men themselves flee unhindered.
Some say that only thirty were seized, from whom the wards (phratries) were afterward named; Valerius Antias, however, puts the number of virgins at five hundred twenty-seven, while Juba counts five hundred eighty-three. This was the greatest point in Romulus's defense: that he himself had taken no woman except Hersilia alone, who escaped their notice, since they had gone about the seizure not out of insolence or wrongdoing, but with the intention, under the greatest necessity, of mingling and joining the two peoples into one.
Some say that Hersilia married Hostilius, a most distinguished man among the Romans; others, that she married Romulus himself, and that she bore him children, one daughter named Prima, so called from the order of her birth, and one son only, whom he named Aollius, from the gathering (athroisis) of the citizens that had been brought about by him, though later generations called him Abillius. But Zenodotus of Troezen, in reporting this, has many who dispute it.
Among those seizing the maidens at that time, they say, it happened that some men of no great distinction were carrying off a girl who far surpassed the others in both beauty and stature. When some of the more powerful men, meeting them, tried to take her away, those carrying her cried out that they were bringing her for Talasius, a young man, but a man of good repute and worth.
On hearing this, the others cheered good words and clapped in approval, and some even turned back and followed along out of goodwill and favor toward Talasius, shouting his name with a cry. From this it is that even now the Romans, just as the Greeks sing Hymenaeus, chant "Talasius" at weddings; for they say that Talasius did indeed find good fortune in his marriage. Sextius Sulla, however — a Carthaginian by birth, yet a man well furnished with both learning and charm — told us that this cry was the very watchword Romulus himself had given for the seizure:
for all those carrying off the maidens shouted "Talasius," and for this reason the custom has persisted at weddings. But most people think, Juba among them, that it is an exhortation and encouragement to industry and wool-working (talasia), since at that time Greek words had not yet been poured over the Italian ones. But if this is not wrongly said — that is, that the Romans at that time used the word talasia just as we do — one might conjecture another, more plausible cause.
For when the Sabines, after making war on the Romans, were reconciled, agreements were made concerning the women, that the men should require of them no other work than that pertaining to wool-working. It remained the custom, therefore, for those who afterward gave brides away, or escorted them, or were simply present, to cry out "Talasius" in jest, calling on those present to witness that the woman was being brought in for no other service than wool-working.
It remains the custom to this day that the bride herself does not step over the threshold into the bedroom on her own, but is carried in, because the women then, having been seized by force, did not enter of their own will. Some also say that the parting of the bride's hair with the point of a spear is a symbol that the first marriage came about with fighting and in a warlike manner: about these things we have spoken more fully in our Roman Questions. The seizure, then, was ventured on about the eighteenth day of the month then called Sextilis, now August, on which day they celebrate the festival of the Consualia.
The Sabines were a populous nation given to war, yet they lived in villages without walls, judging it proper — as settlers descended from the Lacedaemonians — to remain bold and unafraid.
Nevertheless, seeing themselves bound by such great pledges, and anxious on their daughters' account, they dispatched envoys with demands that were fair and restrained: Romulus was to restore the girls to them and undo the violent deed, and only afterward, through persuasion and lawful means, establish, between the two nations, bonds of friendship and kinship. Yet Romulus refused to surrender the girls, urging the Sabines instead to accept the union;
and while the rest deliberated and made preparations, delaying, Acron, king of the Caeninenses, a spirited man and formidable in war, had held Romulus's first bold act in suspicion from the start, and now, considering what had been done concerning the women to be already a thing fearful to all and not to be endured unless punished, rose up first for war and advanced against him with a great force, and Romulus advanced against him in turn.
Coming into sight of one another and catching sight of each other, they challenged one another to single combat, while the armies stood motionless under arms. Romulus, then, having vowed that if he prevailed and struck the man down, he would carry his arms and dedicate them to Zeus, struck him down after prevailing, and put the army to flight when battle was joined, and took the city besides. Yet he did no wrong to those captured within it, but ordered them to tear down their houses and follow him to Rome, to become citizens on equal terms.
Indeed, nothing did more to increase Rome than this — its constant practice of attaching to itself and incorporating those whom it conquered. Romulus, considering how he might best make his vow both pleasing to Zeus and a delightful sight for the citizens to behold, cut down an oak of huge size in the camp and shaped it like a trophy, fitting and fastening each piece of Acron's armor upon it in due order; he himself girded on his tunic and crowned his flowing hair with laurel.
Then, taking up the trophy, resting it upright against his right shoulder, he marched forth leading a paean of victory, the army following under arms, while the citizens received them with joy and wonder. This procession furnished the beginning and the model that later triumphs sought to emulate, and the trophy was named an offering to Zeus Feretrius — for the Romans call "to strike" ferire, and he had vowed to strike the man down and fell him —
and the spoils are called "opima," says Varro, on the grounds that they also call abundance (wealth) "ops"; though one might more plausibly say it is on account of the deed itself, for the deed is called "opus," and the consecration of opima spoils belongs only to a commander who, by his own hand and through a feat of valor, has slain the opposing general. Only three Roman commanders ever achieved this: first Romulus, who killed Acron the Caeninensian; second, Cornelius Cossus, who killed Tolumnius the Etruscan; and last of all, Claudius Marcellus, who overcame Britomartus, king of the Gauls.
Cossus and Marcellus rode into the city in chariots drawn by four horses, themselves carrying the trophies; but Dionysius says that Romulus did not use a chariot — wrongly, in fact. For it is recorded that Tarquin, son of Demaratus, was the first of the kings to raise the triumph to this splendid and imposing form; others say that Publicola was the first to celebrate a triumph in a chariot. As for Romulus's images, one may still see in Rome all the trophy-bearing statues of him on foot.
After the capture of the Caeninenses, even as the remaining Sabines went on readying themselves, the peoples of Fidenae, Crustumerium, and Antemnae joined forces in opposition to Rome, and, meeting the same defeat in battle, allowed Romulus to seize their towns, parcel out their territory, and transplant them to Rome. Romulus distributed the rest of the land to the citizens, but allowed the fathers of the seized maidens to keep whatever land they themselves already held.
Angered by this, the remaining Sabines appointed Tatius as their general and marched against Rome. The city was hard to approach, having as its defense what is now the Capitoline, on which a garrison had been stationed, with Tarpeius as its commander — not the maiden Tarpeia, as some say, making Romulus out to be foolish; rather, Tarpeia, daughter of the commander, betrayed the fortress to the Sabines, having conceived a desire for the golden bracelets she saw them wearing on their arms, and asked as the price of her betrayal whatever they carried on their left hands.
Tatius having agreed, she unbarred one gate under cover of darkness and admitted the Sabine force. It was not Antigonus alone who is said to have favored betrayal itself while despising the men who carried it out, nor was Caesar alone in remarking, of the Thracian Rhoemetalces, that treachery pleased him even as the traitor disgusted him; rather, this is a feeling common toward the wicked, shared by all who need their services, just as some need the venom and gall of certain beasts — for they are glad of the use while they are getting it, but detest the vice once they have obtained it.
This is what Tatius felt then toward Tarpeia: he ordered the Sabines, remembering their agreement, to grudge her nothing of what they carried on their left arms, and he himself was the first to take off both the bracelet from his arm and his shield, and throw it upon her. As all the others did the same, being pelted with the gold and buried under the shields, she died beneath the weight and the mass of them.
Tarpeius himself was also arrested and prosecuted for treason by Romulus, as Juba says Sulpicius Galba records. Among the others who give a different account of Tarpeia, unconvincing are those who claim she was Tatius the Sabine general's own daughter, kept with Romulus against her will, and that both her actions and her sufferings came about at her father's urging — Antigonus is among these. But Simylus the poet talks utter nonsense, imagining that it was not to the Sabines but to the Celts that Tarpeia betrayed the Capitol, having fallen in love with their king. He says this: "And she who dwells near the steep of the Capitoline, Tarpeia, became the betrayer of Rome's wall, she who, longing to become the bride of the sceptered lord of the Celts, did not guard her fathers' halls." And a little further on, concerning her death: "Her the Boii and the countless tribes of the Celts, camped within the streams of the Po, cast down their weapons from furious hands and heaped upon the hateful girl as her adornment — her death."
Now when Tarpeia was buried there, the hill was called the Tarpeian, until, in the reign of King Tarquin, when the place was consecrated to Zeus, her remains were removed, and the name of Tarpeia was lost — except that a certain rock on the Capitoline is still known as the Tarpeian Rock, the place from which wrongdoers were once hurled to their deaths.
While the height was held by the Sabines, Romulus, in his anger, kept challenging them to battle, and Tatius took heart, seeing that they had a strong line of retreat should they be forced back. For the ground between them, where they were to meet, being enclosed by many hills, seemed likely to afford both sides a sharp and difficult contest owing to the roughness of the terrain, but only brief opportunities for flight and pursuit within so narrow a space.
It happened that the river, having flooded not many days before, had left behind a deep and treacherous marsh in the level ground where the present Forum now is, so that it was not clearly visible nor easy to guard against, and was otherwise hazardous and unsound underfoot. This became, through their ignorance of it, a stroke of fortune for the Sabines.
For Curtius, a man distinguished in reputation and proud in spirit, riding his horse, was advancing far ahead of the rest; and when the pit received his horse, for a while he tried, using blows and urging, to drive it out, but when this proved impossible, he abandoned the horse and saved himself. The place, because of him, is still called the Curtian Lake to this day. Having thus escaped the danger, the Sabines fought a fierce battle, which reached no decision, though many fell, among them Hostilius.
They say that this man was the husband of Hersilia and the grandfather of the Hostilius who later became king after Numa. Again, as many contests naturally arose in a short time, they especially remember one, the last, in which Romulus was struck on the head by a stone and came within a little of falling, and, his resistance faltering, the Romans gave way before the Sabines and made for the Palatine in flight, being pushed back out of the level ground.
But Romulus, now recovering from the blow, wished to turn and face those fleeing before the enemy, and, shouting loudly, called on them to stand and fight. But as the flight poured around him on every side, and no one dared to turn back, he stretched his hands up to heaven and prayed to Zeus to halt the army and not to look on unmoved while the fortunes of Rome fell, but to set them upright again.
When the prayer was made, shame for their king took hold of many, and courage came upon the fleeing men through this sudden change of heart. They stopped first where now the temple of Zeus Stator stands, a name one might render as "the Stayer," and then, locking their shields together again, they pushed the Sabines back once more, as far as what is now called the Regia and the shrine of Hestia.
There, just as they were preparing to fight again as though from the beginning, a terrible sight held them back, a spectacle beyond words. For the seized daughters of the Sabines were seen, streaming this way and that with cries and shrieks through the weapons and the dead, as if possessed by a god, making for their husbands and their fathers — some carrying infant children in their arms, others holding out their hair loosened and disheveled, all calling out by the dearest names, now to the Sabines, now to the Romans.
Both sides were moved to pity, and made room for the women to come and stand between the battle-lines, and weeping went up through the whole army, and there was great compassion both at the sight and, still more, at their words, which ended in supplication and entreaty after beginning with pleas of justice and open speech.
"What terrible or grievous thing," they said, "have we done to you, that we should have suffered what we have already suffered, and now suffer these dreadful evils still? We were seized by those who now possess us with violence and against all law; and having been seized, we were neglected by our brothers and fathers and kinsmen for so long a time that this very time, mixing us with our bitterest enemies through the greatest necessities, has now made us fear for the very men who used force and broke the law, and weep when they are dying in battle.
"For you did not come to avenge us, when we were maidens, against those who wronged us; but now, tearing wives away from the husbands they wed and children away from their mothers, you bring us, in our misery, a more pitiable help than that earlier neglect and betrayal. Such was the love we received from these men, and such is the pity we now receive from you. Even if you were fighting for some other cause, you ought to have stopped for our sake, since you have become fathers-in-law and grandfathers and kinsmen to them."
"But if the war is being fought on our account, then take us along with our husbands and children, and give us back our fathers and kinsmen — only do not take from us our children and our men. We beg you, do not let us become captives again." As Hersilia made this long appeal, and the other women joined in the entreaty, a truce was struck, and the commanders came together to confer.
Meanwhile the women led their men and offspring before their own fathers and brothers, brought food and drink to whoever needed it, and carried the wounded home to tend them, and let it be seen that they ruled their own households, that their husbands deferred to them, and paid them every honor with goodwill.
From this it was agreed that the women who wished to remain living with their husbands should do so, being exempt, as has been said, from all labor and service except spinning wool; that Romans and Sabines together should dwell as one people in the city; that the city, after Romulus, should bear the name Rome, but all the Romans should be called Quirites after the native land of Tatius; and that both kings should reign jointly and hold joint command. The place where they made this agreement is still called the Comitium to this day, for the Romans call a coming-together "coire."
When the city had been doubled in this way, a hundred patricians were enrolled additionally from the Sabines, and the legions came to number six thousand foot and six hundred horse. They established three tribes, naming one, after Romulus, the Ramnenses, another, after Tatius, the Tatienses, and a third the Lucerenses, from the sacred grove into which many had fled and, since the community had granted them asylum, been made citizens.
The Romans call sacred groves "luci." That there were just so many tribes is confirmed by the name itself: for even now they call the tribes "tribus," and the heads of the tribes "tribunes." Each tribe contained ten curiae, which some say were named after those women. But this seems to be false, for many of them take their names from localities.
They did, however, grant the women many other honors, among which are these: that men should step aside for them when walking, that it should be shameful for anyone to speak an indecent word in a woman's presence, or to appear naked before one, or that a man could not be brought to trial before the officials who judge cases of bloodshed; and that their children should wear the ornament called the "bulla," named from its shape — a pendant like a bubble — bordered with purple.
The kings did not deliberate jointly with one another from the outset, but each first took counsel privately with his own hundred, and only then did they bring everyone together in the same place. Tatius lived where the temple of Moneta now stands, and Romulus by the place called the Steps of the Fair Shore. These are near the descent from the Palatine to the great Circus.
There, too, they say, the sacred cornel tree came to grow, according to a story that Romulus, testing his own strength, hurled a spear from the Aventine with a shaft of cornel wood; the point sank deep into the ground, and though many tried, no one was able to pull it out, but the wood, being alive, was nourished by the earth, put out shoots, and grew into a cornel tree of considerable size. Those who came after Romulus, regarding it as one of the most sacred objects, guarded and revered it, and built a wall around it.
If anyone approaching it thought it did not look flourishing and green, but rather withered and dying, he would at once cry out to those nearby, and they, as if rushing to a fire, would shout "water, water," and run from every direction bringing full vessels to the spot. But when Gaius Caesar, they say, was repairing the steps nearby, and his workmen were digging around the area, the roots were accidentally damaged beyond repair, and the plant withered away.
The Romans adopted the months of the Sabines, and whatever was good in that arrangement has been recorded in the Life of Numa. Romulus took up their long shields for his own use, and altered both his own equipment and the Romans' — who up to then had borne shields of the Argive pattern. Both peoples shared in each other's festivals and sacrifices, keeping those which each had celebrated before without abolishing them, and establishing new ones besides, among which are the Matronalia, given to the women in honor of the ending of the war, and the Carmentalia.
Some think that Carmenta is a Fate presiding over the birth of human beings, and for this reason mothers honor her; others say it was the spouse of Evander of Arcadia who, endowed with a kind of prophetic and inspired power of uttering oracles in verse, was named Carmenta (for they call verses "carmina"), and that her proper name was Nicostrata. This much is agreed upon; but some give a more plausible explanation of the name Carmenta, as meaning "deprived of mind," because of the derangement that comes with such inspired frenzies — for the Romans call being deprived "carere," and mind they call "mens."
Concerning the Parilia, this has already been discussed. As for the Lupercalia, if one goes by the season in which it falls, it would appear to be a rite of purification, since it is performed on the unlucky days of the month of February, a name which one might interpret as meaning "purificatory," and that day was anciently called Februata. The name of the festival, translated into Greek, signifies the "Lycaea," and for this reason it seems to be extremely ancient, deriving from the Arcadians who came with Evander.
But this is a common view, for the name could equally derive from "lupa," the she-wolf. Indeed one can note that the Luperci set out on their run precisely from the place where Romulus, so the story goes, was left exposed. Yet the ceremony itself make the true reason hard to guess: for they slaughter goats, then, when two boys of noble family are brought to them, some touch their foreheads with a bloodied knife, while others wipe it off at once, applying wool soaked in milk;
and the boys must laugh after the wiping. After this they cut up the goatskins and run about girded only with strips of the hide, naked, striking with the thongs whoever is in their path. Women of childbearing age do not flee from being struck, believing it aids easy delivery and conception. It is also peculiar to this festival that the Luperci sacrifice a dog.
A certain Butas, who set down the legendary origins of Rome's customs in verses of elegiac meter, says that when the followers of Romulus overcame the men of Amulius, they ran with joy to the spot where the she-wolf had once given her teat to the infants, and that the festival is celebrated in imitation of that run of theirs, and that men of noble family run striking those in their way, just as then, with swords in hand, Romulus and Remus ran from Alba. And the bloodied sword applied to the forehead is a symbol of that killing and danger then, while the cleansing with milk is a reminder of the nourishment they received.
Gaius Acilius records that before the founding of the city, the flocks belonging to the followers of Romulus disappeared, and that after praying to Faunus they ran out naked to search for them, so as not to be troubled by sweat, and that for this reason the Luperci run about naked. As for the dog, one might say, if the sacrifice is one of purification, that it is offered because it is used as a purificatory victim,
for the Greeks too bring out puppies at purification rites, and in many places use what are called "peri-skylakismoi" (purifications by puppy). But if this offering is made as thanksgiving to the she-wolf, and in payment for the nurture and saving of Romulus, then killing the dog makes good sense, seeing that it counts among the wolf's enemies — unless, that is, the animal is punished instead as a nuisance to the Luperci when they run about.
It is said that Romulus was also the first to establish the sacred rite concerning fire, appointing sacred virgins called the Vestals. Others attribute this to Numa, but otherwise record that Romulus was exceptionally devout, and also that he was skilled in divination, and carried for this purpose the staff called the lituus — a curved rod, with which those seated to observe the flight of birds mark off the regions of the sky.
This staff, kept on the Palatine, disappeared when the city was captured by the Gauls; but afterward, when the barbarians had been driven out, it was found beneath deep ashes, unharmed by the fire, though everything else around it had been destroyed and ruined.
He also established certain laws, one of which is severe: it does not allow a wife to leave her husband, but allows a husband to cast out his wife for poisoning his children, for counterfeiting his keys, and for adultery; but if a man sent his wife away for any other reason, half of his property was to belong to the wife, and the other half was to be consecrated to Demeter; and a man who sold his wife was to be sacrificed to the gods of the underworld.
It is peculiar that, while he set no penalty at all for killing a father, he called every homicide "parricide," as though the one crime were accursed and the other simply impossible. And for a long time this seemed to have been rightly judged: for no one committed such a crime in Rome for nearly six hundred years, and the first recorded parricide, after the Hannibalic war, was Lucius Hostius. Let this suffice concerning these matters.
In the fifth year that Tatius reigned, some of his own relatives and kin, meeting on the road envoys who were traveling from Laurentum toward Rome, tried by force to seize their belongings, and when the envoys refused to surrender them and fought back instead, the relatives killed them. When this terrible deed had been dared, Romulus at once thought the wrongdoers should be punished, but Tatius kept blocking and putting it off.
This was the one and only cause of open disagreement between them; in all else, ordering their affairs as best they could, they conducted matters jointly and in harmony. But the relatives of the murdered men, being barred from any lawful justice on account of Tatius, fell upon him at Lavinium while he was sacrificing together with Romulus, and killed him, but escorted Romulus away, praising him as a just man.
Romulus had the body of Tatius brought back and buried with honor, and it lies near the place called the Armilustrium on the Aventine; but he entirely neglected to seek justice for the murder. Some historians record that the frightened city of the Laurentines offered up those who had killed Tatius, yet Romulus dismissed them unpunished, declaring that one murder had thereby paid for the other.
This gave rise to a certain rumor and suspicion, as though he had been glad to be rid of his co-ruler; but it disturbed nothing in practice, nor did it set the Sabines against him — rather, some through genuine affection for him, others from dread of what he could do, and still others because they saw he treated everyone with a goodwill befitting the gods, continued to hold him in wonder.
Many people outside Rome as well came to admire Romulus, and the older Latin peoples sent to him and made friendship and alliance with him. He took Fidenae, a city neighboring Rome — according to some, by dispatching his horsemen ahead without warning, ordering them to sever the gate-pins, while he himself then appeared out of nowhere;
others say that the people of Fidenae struck first, driving off plunder and doing much damage to the territory and the suburbs, and that Romulus laid a trap for them, wiped out many, and captured the city. Even so he did not demolish it or level it flat, but instead turned it into a colony of Rome, sending two thousand five hundred settlers on the Ides of April.
After this a plague fell upon them, bringing sudden deaths to people without any sickness, and also striking their crops with barrenness and their herds with sterility. The city was also rained on with drops of blood, so that great superstitious fear was added to these unavoidable sufferings. And when the same things befell the inhabitants of Laurentum as well, it now seemed altogether certain that some divine wrath, on account of the justice left unsettled in the matter of Tatius and the murdered ambassadors, was driving both cities.
When the murderers were handed over and punished by both sides, the terrible visitations plainly abated, and Romulus cleansed the cities with rites of purification, said to be carried out even now at the Ferentine Gate, down to the present day. Yet before the plague had run its course, the people of Cameria fell upon the Romans and ravaged their land, supposing them unable to defend themselves because of their affliction.
At once Romulus marched out against them, and, defeating them in battle, killed six thousand, and having taken the city, resettled half of the survivors in Rome, while transferring from Rome to Cameria twice as many of those who remained, on the Kalends of Sextilis (August). So great was the surplus of citizens he had, in the roughly sixteen years he had governed Rome. Among the other spoils he brought back a bronze four-horse chariot from Cameria, which he set up in the temple of Hephaestus, having had himself represented on it being crowned by Victory.
As Roman power grew stronger in this way, the weaker of the neighboring peoples submitted, and, gaining safety, were content; but the more powerful, out of fear and envy, thought they should not look on passively, but should oppose and check the growth of Romulus. The first of the Etruscans to do so were the people of Veii, who possessed extensive territory and inhabited a great city; they began a war by demanding back Fidenae as belonging to them.
This demand was not only unjust but also absurd, since, when the men of Fidenae had been in danger and under attack, they had not come to their aid but had let them perish, and now they were demanding back houses and land held by others. Insulted, then, by the answers Romulus gave them, they split their forces in two: with one part they pressed against the army of the men of Fidenae, and with the other they went to meet Romulus. Near Fidenae they overcame and killed two thousand Romans, but they were defeated by Romulus and lost more than eight thousand men.
Again they fought at Fidenae, and everyone agrees that most of the work there was Romulus's own, since he displayed every kind of skill along with daring, and seemed to make use of a strength and speed of foot far beyond human measure; but what some say is thoroughly mythical, or rather altogether incredible — that of fourteen thousand who fell, more than half were killed by Romulus's own hand — is a claim on the order of the Messenians' boast about Aristomenes, that he three times sacrificed a hundred slain from among the Lacedaemonians.
When the rout occurred, Romulus let the survivors flee and advanced against the city itself. They, unable to bear the great disaster that had befallen them, sued for terms and reached a hundred-year pact of friendship, surrendering a large portion of their land, the part called Septempagium, meaning "the seven-part district," and withdrawing from the salt-works along the river, and handing over fifty of their best men as hostages.
He celebrated a triumph for these victories too, on the Ides of October, bringing along many other captives and the leader of the Veientines, an old man who was thought to have acted foolishly and, contrary to his age, inexperienced in affairs. That is why even now, when they offer sacrifices for victory, an old man dressed in purple is led through the forum up to the Capitol, with a child's bulla fastened on him, while the herald proclaims: "Sardians for sale." For the Tyrrhenians are said to be colonists of the Sardians, and Veii is a Tyrrhenian city.
This was the last war Romulus waged. Then what happens to most people — indeed to all but a few who are lifted by great and unexpected good fortune to power and grandeur — he too did not escape suffering: emboldened by his successes and adopting a haughtier bearing, he abandoned his popular ways and turned toward a monarchy oppressive and offensive, beginning with the very outward form in which he arrayed himself.
For he put on a purple tunic and wore a toga bordered with purple, and he transacted business seated on a reclining throne. Around him were always young men called the Celeres, from the swiftness with which they carried out their duties. Others walked in front of him with staffs, holding back the crowd, and wore belts of leather straps so as to bind at once whomever he ordered.
To bind, in the old Latin tongue, was "ligare," now called "alligare": hence the rod-bearers are called "lictors" and the rods themselves "bacilla," from their use of staffs at that time. It is likely that they are now called "lictors" with the letter kappa inserted, whereas before they were "litores," being in Greek terms "public servants": for the Greeks still now call the public property "leiton," and the populace "laos."
Once Numitor, his grandfather, passed away in Alba and the throne there rightfully devolved on Romulus, he put the constitution in the people's hands by courting their favor, and appointed a magistrate for the Albans year by year; and he taught the powerful men in Rome as well to seek a state without a king, self-governing, ruled and ruling in turn. For not even the men called patricians took part in affairs, but only an honored name and outward form remained to them, gathering in the senate-house more from custom than from any real deliberation:
then they would listen in silence to his commands, and being the first to learn his decision before the many, they would depart with that advantage over the rest. Everything else was of lesser importance; but when he himself divided among the soldiers, on his own authority, the land won by the spear, and gave back to the Veientines their hostages without the senate's consent or wish, he seemed thoroughly to insult the senate.
For this reason he fell into suspicion and slander, when a short time later he vanished in an unaccountable way. He vanished on the Nones of July, as they are now named, but at that time called the Nones of Quintilis, leaving nothing certain to say, nor any agreed account to be learned about his end, except the date, as has been said before. For even now many things are done on that day resembling that ancient calamity.
One should not be surprised at the obscurity, since when Scipio Africanus died at home after dinner, the manner of his death met with neither confirmation nor refutation, but some say he simply fell ill, being naturally sickly, others that he took his own life by poison, and others that his enemies broke in by night and stopped his breath.
And yet Scipio lay dead, visible for all to see, and his body, seen by everyone, offered some ground for suspicion and inquiry into what had happened; but when Romulus suddenly departed, no part of his body was seen, nor any remnant of his clothing. Some conjectured that the senators, having risen against him in the temple of Hephaestus, destroyed him, dividing up the body and each carrying off a part concealed in his cloak;
others think that the disappearance did not occur in the temple of Hephaestus, nor with only the senators present, but that Romulus happened to be holding an assembly outside near the place called the Goat's Marsh [or the Roe's Marsh], and that suddenly wondrous and indescribable disturbances came over the sky, with incredible changes: the sun's light gave out and darkness fell, not soft or calm, but with terrible thunders and blasts of wind driving a storm from every side;
and in this the great crowd scattered and fled, while the powerful men drew together with one another; and when the disturbance ceased and the light shone out again, and the many came back together to the same place, there was a search for the king and a longing for him, and the powerful men would not allow the people to investigate or meddle further, but urged all to honor and revere Romulus, as having been snatched up among the gods and destined to become a kindly god for them in place of a good king.
So most of the people, believing this and rejoicing, went their way, worshipping with good hopes; but there were some who, examining the matter bitterly and with ill will, troubled the patricians and accused them of persuading the people of foolish things while themselves being the murderers of the king.
Accordingly, one of the patricians, first in birth and most esteemed in character, a trusted intimate of Romulus himself, one of the settlers from Alba, Julius Proculus, came forward into the forum and, laying hold of the most sacred objects and swearing an oath, declared before everyone that as he was walking along the road Romulus had appeared to him coming from the opposite direction, looking more handsome and tall than ever before, adorned in bright, gleaming armor.
He himself, struck with amazement at the sight, said: "O King, what has happened, or what were you thinking, that you have left us under unjust and wicked suspicions, and abandoned the whole city orphaned in boundless grief?" And Romulus answered: "It pleased the gods, Proculus, that we should spend so much time among men, we who came from there, and having founded a city of the greatest power and glory, should again dwell in heaven. But now farewell; carry word to the Romans that if they combine self-restraint with valor, they will come to the height of human power. And I will be a kindly guardian spirit for you, Quirinus."
This seemed credible to the Romans because of the character of the man who told it and because of his oath; but indeed also some divine influence took hold of them, a feeling akin to inspired possession: for no one contradicted it, but all, setting aside every suspicion and accusation, prayed to Quirinus and called on him as a god.
Now these stories resemble those told by the Greeks about Aristeas of Proconnesus and Cleomedes of Astypalaea. For it is told that Aristeas met his death inside a certain fuller's workshop, and when his friends went to fetch the body it had vanished; and some say that people just returning from abroad met Aristeas traveling toward Croton. Cleomedes, who was of monstrous strength and bodily size, and violent and mad in his ways, did many acts of violence, and finally, in a certain schoolhouse for boys, struck with his hand the pillar supporting the roof and broke it in the middle, bringing down the roof.
When the boys were killed and pursuers came after him, he took refuge inside a large chest and, closing the lid, held it closed from within, so that many pulling together could not tear it open; but when they broke open the chest, they found the man neither alive nor dead within. Astonished, they sent envoys to Delphi, to whom the Pythia said: "Last of heroes is Cleomedes of Astypalaea."
It is also said that when Alcmene's body was being carried out for burial, it vanished from sight, and in its place a stone was discovered resting on the bier; and altogether the Greeks tell many such stories, deifying, beyond what is reasonable, the mortal part of nature together with the divine. To deny altogether the divine element in virtue is impious and base, but to mix earth with heaven is foolish. We must say, then, holding to what is safe, in the words of Pindar, that the body of everyone follows overpowering death, but a living image of eternity still remains; for that alone comes from the gods.
For it comes from there, and returns there — not together with the body, but only when it is set free and separated from the body as completely as possible, and becomes wholly pure and fleshless and undefiled. "For that is the best soul," as Heraclitus says, "which darts away from the body like lightning from a cloud." But the soul that is fouled and thoroughly filled with the body, like a heavy and misty exhalation, is slow to kindle and slow to rise back up.
There is therefore no need to send up the bodies of good men to heaven along with them, contrary to nature, but rather to hold that virtues and souls altogether, by nature and by divine law, pass from men into heroes, and from heroes into guardian spirits, and from guardian spirits, if they are perfectly purified and made holy, as in a rite of initiation, escaping altogether whatever is mortal and subject to feeling, are carried up to the gods — not by any law of the city, but in truth and by reasonable account — receiving the noblest and most blessed end of all.
As for the surname that came to be given to Romulus, Quirinus, some call it "Enyalius" [the war-god], others say it means "citizen," since they also called the citizens "Quirites"; others say the ancients called a spearpoint or spear "curis," and that the statue of Hera Curitis is set up on a spear, and that in the Regia a spear set up is addressed as Ares, and that men who excel in war are honored with a spear: so it seems Romulus was named Quirinus as a kind of warlike or spear-bearing god.
A shrine has been built for him on the hill called, because of him, the Quirinal. The day of his disappearance carries two names, "Populifugia" and "the Nones of the Goats"; on that day the citizens go outside the city to offer sacrifice at the spot known as the Goat's Marsh, since "capra" was their term for a goat. As they go out to the sacrifice they cry aloud many of the local names, such as Marcus, Lucius, Gaius, imitating the rout of that time and the calling out to one another amid fear and confusion.
Others, though, claim this reenactment reflects not flight but haste and readiness, tracing the story to a cause of this kind. After the Gauls captured Rome and Camillus then expelled them, the city, left enfeebled, could not easily recover itself, many of the Latins marched against it, with Livius Postumius as their commander. Not far from Rome he set up camp with his forces and dispatched a herald, announcing that the Latins wished to rekindle their old kinship and relationship, now that it had faded, by mixing the families again through new intermarriages.
If, then, the Romans would send a good number of unmarried girls and widowed women, there would be peace and friendship with them, just as had earlier existed with the Sabines on similar terms. On hearing this, the Romans feared war, and thought that handing over the women was no better than captivity outright. While they were at a loss, a servant-girl named Philotis, or, as some call her, Tutula, urged them to choose neither course but instead, through a ruse, to avoid both the war and the surrender of hostages at once.
The trick was this: to dress up Philotis herself, along with some comely servant-girls, as though they were free women, and send them off to the enemy; then at night Philotis was to raise a torch, and the Romans would come up with their weapons and set upon the enemy while they slept. This was done, with the Latins persuaded to accept the women, and Philotis raised the torch from a wild fig tree, screening it with coverings and curtains behind it so that the light was invisible to the enemy but plain to the Romans.
As soon as they saw it, they went out at once in haste, and in their eagerness kept calling to one another repeatedly around the gates. Falling upon the enemy unexpectedly and overpowering them, they now keep the festival as a victory celebration. And the Nones bear the name "Caprotine" from the wild fig tree, which the Romans term "caprificus." They feast the women outdoors, shaded by branches of fig; and the servant-girls run about gathering people and playing games, then strike and pelt one another with stones, just as they then came to the Romans' aid and fought alongside them in battle.
Now many of the historians accept this account; but the fact that the calling of names is done in daylight, and that people go to the Goat's Marsh as if to a sacrifice, seems rather to support the former account — unless, by Zeus, both events happened to occur on the same day in different eras. It is said that Romulus, at fifty-four years of age, in the thirty-eighth year of ruling, disappeared from among mankind.