#aetiology

“Be friendly,” I said. “Kindly Mother of twin Cupids.” She turned her expressive eyes back to me, the poet:

“What do you want,” She said. “With me? Certainly by now you celebrate greater things. Surely you don’t have an old wound in your tender heart?”

“You know, Goddess,” I replied. “About the wound.”

She laughed, and immediately cheerful brightness radiated from Her face.

“Hurt or healthy, have I ever abandoned your banner? You are my purpose, you are always in my work. It was appropriate when we played together without guilt in my earliest years. Now a greater track is ground down by our horses: I celebrate the Seasons and their reasons, pulling them from Ancient Calendars. I celebrate the Constellations slipping beneath the Earth and rising again.

“We have come to the fourth month, in which You are most honored: You know, Venus, both the poet and the month to be Yours.”

Moved, She lightly crowned my temples with Venusian myrtle and said: “Finish the work that has been started.”

I understood, and suddenly the reasons for the days were obvious: while She allows me, and while the winds blow, our ship might sail.

Indeed, if any part of the calendar ought to interest you, Caesar, April holds that which might fascinate you. This month was handed down to you by a great ancestor, and became yours thanks to adopted nobility.

The Trojan father knew this, when he wrote out the long year, and he remembers his own ancestors:

And though he dedicated the first lot in the series to Wild Mars, who was the immediate cause for his own life, he later found Venus far back in his family tree, and he decided that She should have the honor of the second month. Having sought the origins of his conception and having unrolled the generations before him, he came right up to his godly relatives.

Doesn’t he know Dardanus, born of Electra, daughter of Atlas? Certainly she slept with Jupiter. His son is Ericthonius; and his is Tros. Continuing this family line, Tros begets Assaracus, and he fathers Capys. Anchises follows, with whom Venus does not disdain to share the name of ‘parent.’ From this union Aeneas was born, who scrupulous religiousness has been noted by the Gods. Through the fires of Troy’s destruction he carried Holy Images, and his father, among other sacred items, on his shoulders. We have come at last to the auspicious name of Julus, through whom Julia touches the Trojan ancestors of her house. The last in this bloodline, who was born in the great forests, was called Silvanius by the Latin clan. And he, Latinus, is your father. Alba follows Latinus: Epytus holds your royal title next, Alba. He gives the recurring Trojan name to his son Capys. And you two, Calpetus, share the same grandfather. While after this Tiberinus was granted his father’s kingdom, it is said he was pulled into the great whirlpool of the Tuscan river and drowned. However, before his death he fathered Agrippa, and even saw his grandson Remulus, who was struck dead by thrown thunderbolts. Aventinus follows these, after whom the place, and also the mountain, is named.

After him the kingdom was surrendered to Procas. Numitor, the elder brother of severe Amulus, followed him. Rhea Silvia and Lausus were conceived by Numitor. Lausus was felled by his uncle’s sword; Rhea Silvia satisfied Mars, and she brought you into the world, Romulus, along with your twin Remus.

He always said his own parents were Venus and Mars, and his words deserved credence. His descendants, about to succeed him, could not be ignorant of their heritage, and so he gifted back-to-back seasons to the Gods of his bloodline.

But, I suppose, the month of Venus was first written down in the Greek language (it is said that the Goddess was born of sea-foam, if you’ve never heard the Marvelous Goddess named in Greek), for, back then, the territory by Italy was Greater Greece.

Evander had come with ships full of his own people, so had Hercules, descendant of Alceus, both of them Greek in origin (the foreign guest, the Club-Bearer, pastured his herd on the Aventine grass; it is with so great a God that you drink the Tiber!), as well as the Ithacan leader, Odysseus. Laestragonians lurked over his witnesses, and still now that shore holds the name of Circe, the Goddess-Witch, and at one time, Telegonus her son by Odysseus. In fact, the walls of the wet Tiber, their stones laid by Greek hands, continue to stand tall.

Halesus had come here, driven by the curse on the descendants of Atreus (the Faliscan nation believes itself to be named after him). Add to the mix Antenor, Troy’s advocate for peace with the Greeks, and your son-in-law Oenides, Apulian Daunus. Later, after Antenor, Aeneas came out of Troy’s destruction, carrying his gods into our regions. One comrade of this group was Solymus, who hailed from Trojan Ida, from whom the walls of Sulmo get their name. He was of frosty Sulmo, of our homeland, Germanicus. I am miserable, how far Sulmo is from this Scythian dirt! I am so far off — but suppress my whining, Muse. Songs should not be played for You on a sorrowful lyre.

Where doesn’t Envy go? There are those who might wish to snatch away the honor of the month from You and who may give You the evil eye, Venus, certainly because Spring uncovers everything. A thick blanket of snow and the severity of coldness disappear, and the fertile soil is exposed. They say April is named after this time of snow-melt and exposure, over which kindly Venus asserts her claim by laying down her hand.

Indeed, Venus, the most worthy, rules the universe. She, the littler royalty, keeps no god, and She gives purpose to the sky, the earth, and the waters that birthed Her. She binds all species together by means of Her own beginning. She created all Gods (there are too many to count); She gives reasons to cultivate the trees. She has collected the unformed souls of men into one, and She has taught them how to connect with their own partners.

How does every type of bird reproduce, if not for delightful pleasure? Cattle wouldn’t come together if not for light love. Even though the fierce ram duals a male rival with his horns, he refrains from hurting the forehead of his beloved ewe. The bull, who shakes entire pastures and every grove, having set aside his ferocity, follows the heifer. That same power lies beneath the broad sea, protecting and filling up the waters with uncountable fish. This first force takes away the wild disposition of people: from it civilizations rose and man became anxious about his appearance. It is said that the first lover, his love having denied him, kept himself awake with song through the night, crooning his ballads at her shut doors. His performance persuaded her obstinate maid, as he argued everything for his own opportunity.

Uncountable works of art have been set in motion by this Goddess; and with enthusiasm those who feel they must please Her utilize many tools, most just discovered, which had previously been unknown.

Would anyone dare to strip this Goddess from the honor of the second month? Keep that madness far away from me, because while Her power extends everywhere, and Her shrines are packed with worshippers, in our City the Goddess holds greater power yet. On behalf of your Troy, Romans, Venus took up weapons, although when She was injured, She lamented Her hand, soft and untrained in war: according to a Trojan judge, She conquered two Celestials. (Oh, don’t let me remember Her defeat here!) It has been said that She was the daughter-in-law of Assaracus, so that, in due time, great Caesar might certainly have Julian ancestors.

Nor is any time more appropriate for Venus than Spring: truly the lands glitter with sprouts, truly the fields are restored, now the tips of grasses and herbs are poking out from cracked earth, now the bough is bursting with new leaf-buds on its swollen bark. And Beautiful Venus is suited to this beautiful time, as She is used to continuing on after Mars Himself: certainly She instructs a curved boat to go through Her maternal sea, no longer afraid of wintery menaces.

—

‘Alma, fave,’ dixi ‘geminorum mater Amorum!’

ad vatem voltus rettulit illa suos:

‘quid tibi’ ait ‘mecum? certe maiora canebas.

num vetus in molli pectore volnus habes?’

‘scis, dea,’ respondi ‘de volnere.’ risit, et aether

protinus ex illa parte serenus erat.

‘saucius an sanus numquid tua signa reliqui?

tu mihi propositum, tu mihi semper opus.

quae decuit, primis sine crimine lusimus annis,

nunc teritur nostris area maior equis:

tempora cum causis annalibus eruta priscis

lapsaque sub terras ortaque signa cano.

venimus ad quartum, quo tu celeberrima mense:

et vatem et mensem scis, Venus, esse tuos.’

mota Cytheriaca leviter mea tempora myrto

contigit et ‘coeptum perfice’ dixit ‘opus.’

sensimus, et causae subito patuere dierum:

dum licet et spirant flamina, navis eat.

Si qua tamen pars te de fastis tangere debet,

Caesar, in Aprili, quo tenearis, habes.

hic ad te magna descendit imagine mensis

et fit adoptiva nobilitate tuus.

hoc pater Iliades, cum longum scriberet annum,

vidit et auctores rettulit ipse suos:

utque fero Marti primam dedit ordine sortem,

quod sibi nascenti proxima causa fuit,

sic Venerem gradibus multis in gente repertam

alterius voluit mensis habere locum;

principiumque sui generis revolutaque quaerens

saecula cognatos venit adusque deos.

Dardanon Electra nesciret Atlantide natum

scilicet, Electram concubuisse Iovi?

huius Erichthonius: Tros est generatus ab illo:

Assaracon creat hic, Assaracusque Capyn.

proximus Anchises, cum quo commune parentis

non dedignata est nomen habere Venus,

hinc satus Aeneas, pietas spectata, per ignes

sacra patremque humeris, altera sacra, tulit,

venimus ad felix aliquando nomen Iuli,

unde domus Teucros Iulia tangit avos.

Postumus hinc, qui quod silvis fuit ortus in altis,

Silvius in Latia gente vocatus erat.

isque, Latine, tibi pater est. subit Alba Latinum:

proximus est titulis Epytus, Alba, tuis.

ille dedit Capyi recidiva vocabula Troiae

et tuus est idem, Calpete, factus avus.

cumque patris regnum post hunc Tiberinus haberet,

dicitur in Tuscae gurgite mersus aquae.

iam tamen Agrippan natum Remulumque nepotem

viderat: in Remulum fulmina missa ferunt,

venit Aventinus post hos, locus unde vocatur,

mons quoque, post illum tradita regna Procae.

quem sequitur duri Numitor germanus Amuli.

Ilia cum Lauso de Numitore sati.

ense cadit patruo Lausus: placet Ilia Marti

teque parit, gemino iuncte Quirine Remo.

ille suos semper Venerem Martemque parentes

dixit et emeruit vocis habere fidem;

neve secuturi possent nescire nepotes,

tempora dis generis continuata dedit,

sed Veneris mensem Graio sermone notatum

auguror: a spumis est dea dicta maris,

nec tibi sit mirum Graeco rem nomine dici;

Itala nam tellus Graecia maior erat.

venerat Evander plena cum classe suorum:

venerat Alcides, Graius uterque genus

(hospes Aventinis armentum pavit in herbis

claviger, et tanto est Albula pota deo):

dux quoque Neritius; testes Laestrygones extant

et quod adhuc Circes nomina litus habet,

et iam Telegoni, iam moenia Tiburis udi

stabant, Argolicae quod posuere manus,

venerat Atridae fatis agitatus Halesus,

a quo se dictam terra Falisca putat.

adice Troianae suasorem Antenora pacis

et generum Oeniden, Apule Daune, tuum.

serus ab Iliacis et post Antenora flammis

attulit Aeneas in loca nostra deos.

huius erat Solymus Phrygia comes unus ab Ida,

a quo Sulmonis moenia nomen habent,

Sulmonis gelidi, patriae, Germanice, nostrae.

me miserum, Scythico quam procul illa solo est!

ergo ego tam longe—sed subprime, Musa, querellas!

non tibi sunt maesta sacra canenda lyra.

quo non livor adit? sunt qui tibi mensis honorem

eripuisse velint invideantque, Venus,

nam quia ver aperit tunc omnia, densaque cedit

frigoris asperitas, fetaque terra patet,

Aprilem memorant ab aperto tempore dictum,

quem Venus iniecta vindicat alma manu.

illa quidem totum dignissima temperat orbem;

illa tenet nullo regna minora deo,

iuraque dat caelo, terrae, natalibus undis,

perque suos initus continet omne genus.

illa deos omnes (longum est numerare) creavit:

illa satis causas arboribusque dedit:

illa rudes animos hominum contraxit in unum

et docuit iungi cum pare quemque sua.

quid genus omne creat volucrum, nisi blanda voluptas?

nec coeant pecudes, si levis absit amor.

cum mare trux aries cornu decertat; at idem

frontem dilectae laedere parcit ovis.

deposita sequitur taurus feritate iuvencam,

quem toti saltus, quem nemus omne tremit.

vis eadem, lato quodcumque sub aequore vivit,

servat et innumeris piscibus implet aquas.

prima feros habitus homini detraxit: ab illa

venerunt cultus mundaque cura sui.

primus amans carmen vigilatum nocte negata

dicitur ad clausas concinuisse fores,

eloquiumque fuit duram exorare puellam,

proque sua causa quisque disertus erat.

mille per hanc artes motae; studioque placendi

quae latuere prius, multa reperta ferunt.

hanc quisquam titulo mensis spoliare secundi

audeat? a nobis sit furor iste procul,

quid, quod ubique potens templisque frequentibus aucta,

urbe tamen nostra ius dea maius habet?

pro Troia, Romane, tua Venus arma ferebat,

cum gemuit teneram cuspide laesa manum:

caelestesque duas Troiano iudice vicit

(a! nolim victas hoc meminisse deas!),

Assaracique nurus dicta est, ut scilicet olim

magnus Iuleos Caesar haberet avos.

nec Veneri tempus quam ver erat aptius ullum i

vere nitent terrae, vere remissus ager,

nunc herbae rupta tellure cacumina tollunt,

nunc tumido gemmas cortice palmes agit.

et formosa Venus formoso tempore digna est,

utque solet, Marti continuata suo est:

vere monet curvas materna per aequora puppes

ire nec hibernas iam timuisse minas.

—

P. Ovidius Naso, “Fastorum Libri Sex,” Lib. IV 1-132

In his return to Freud, the early Lacan focussed on the symbolic and the imaginary. Reflecting mainly on the symbolic structure of the unconscious, the conversion symptoms and the (phallic) jouissance, his references to their real dimension are few and far between. From seminar XI (1964) onwards, though, the real – and more specifically the real of the drives – is given more attention. It is at this point, when elaborating the real dimension of jouissance, that the concept of the real of the body intervenes. With the real of the body, the accent lies on the cut and alienated relation between the subject and jouissance. At first, this polarisation of the subject and its body serves Lacan's aim of situating the exact place of jouissance. Amongst other things this will enable him to determine the role played by culture and society in the genesis of neuroses. Further, the concept of the real of body has to do with the crucial question of aetiology, since the real of the drives is the cornerstone of psychopathological symptoms. As such, Lacan's notion of the real of the body picks up again and develops the crucial concept of fixation, which Freud left unfinished.

Night has departed, and Dawn appears; I am summoned for the Paralia: I am not asked in error, if Kind Pales is favorable.

Kind Pales, may You, Sacred to Shepherds, applaud my celebratory singing, if I honor Your festival with my service. Certainly I carry the ashes of a calf, and the stalks of a bean-thing in a full hand, the holy purgations: certainly I have leapt over flames, having been set out three times in a row; the soaked laurel branch has sent off dripping water drops; the Goddess, having been roused, exists and is favorable to my work: the ship departs from the dock-yards, now my sails have their own winds.

Go! Seek, people, the incense of the Virginal Altar: Vesta will bestow it, you will be unpolluted with the service of Vesta. The blood of horses and calves will be the fumigation on hot cinders; the third things are the hard things, the empty tops of beans. Shepherd, perform the fat sheep, the Lustral, sacrifices toward the beginning of dusk! Let water first wet the ground, and let a green branch sweep the ground; let the sheep-things be adorned with foliage and branches having been fastened to them, and let the long garlands veil the decorated doors. Let the blue-black smoke be created by pure sulfur and let the sheep, having been touched with the smoking sulfur, bleat.

Burn! The male olives, the pine-torch, and the Sabine herbs; and the laurel, having been burned in the middle of the hearth, creaks; and let a basket of millet follow cakes made from millet: the Rural Goddess is particularly pleased by this food. And bring! a milk pail to her sacrificial feasts, and with the sacrificial dinner having been cut up, Invoke! Sylvan Pales with tepid milk. Say! “By the consul for the herd and equally by the commander of the herd: let an Offense, having been rejected from my stables, run away. If I have pastured my flock in a sacred place or if I have loitered beneath a sacred tree, and a sheep has grazed ignorant fodder from a gravesite, if I have entered a forbidden, woody-grove, or if there are nymphs, having been driven away by our eyes, and the Half-Goat God: if my pruning hook has stripped the sacred grove of shady boughs, from which place a little basket of foliage had been given to a sick sheep: Make atonement for my crime! I will come while it might hail violently, let it not hinder me to drive my herd into a rustic temple; let it not do harm to have disturbed the ponds. Forgive! Nymphs, the hooves, having been set in motion, which make the water dark. Calm! Goddess, The springs and spring-divinities for us. You calm the Gods having been scattered through every grove! Let us see neither Dryads nor the baths of Diana; nor Faunus, when he lies in the fields in the middle of the day.

“Keep! disease on the skin far away; let both the men and the flock be healthy and let the vigilant watch-dogs, that cautious crowd, be healthy. Let me drive back the multitude, not less than there were in the morning, and let me, carrying the fleece having been snatched from the wolf, not cry. Let injurious hunger be absent: and let the herbs and the foliage remain; and let water wash every limb and let each water be drunk. Let me milk the full udders, let the cheese return in copper coins to me, and let the loose woven basket give way to flowing whey. And let the ram be lustful and let his mate deliver offspring, having been conceived, and let there be many lambs in my stables. And let the wool, that is produced, be an irritant to no girls, and be suitably soft with relation to tender hands. I invoke, that which might happen, and we will prepare a large cake for the coming year for Pales, for the Mistress of Shepherds.”

It is by these things the goddess must be soothed: you, turning around, say these things to the East four times, and wash your hands with living dew! Then, it is Lawful. With the wine-cup having been placed just like you would with a krater, drink the snow-white milk and purple must! Afterwards, throughout the glowing heaps of creaking straw, you might throw nimble limbs with quick feet.

There is a custom, having been explained: the origin of the custom is left to me: disorder creates a doubtful thing and restrains our work, having been begun. The voracious fire cleanses everything and the defects melt out from the metals: for that reason the sheep makes atonement with the leader.

Or, because the seeds of all things are opposite, the two discordant gods, fire and water: have the elements united the ancestors; and have they cleansed the appropriate thing with fires; and have they thought to touch the body with water having been spattered? Or, do they think these two things to be important because in these things there is the cause of life; the exile has squandered these things; the new wife is created by these things?

Indeed, I scarcely believe that some might think those things are to be reported as reference to Phaethon and the flood-waters beyond measure of Deucalion. A part, too, believe it to reference when the shepherds were striking rocks with rocks: they cause a sparklet to have sprung forth suddenly; certainly the first one has vanished, the second one, having been captured, is on the stalks: does the flame of the Parilia keep with this evidence? Or has dutiful Aeneas performed this custom more completely, has the fire given to him, having been conquered, and unharmed journey? Can it be said that it is yet closer to the truth, that when Rome, having been founded, exists, the moving Lares, having been ordered, are to be brought over to new homes, and they are to set their home-place, with rustic abodes of huts about to be abandoned, on fire; is the livestock to have jumped, are the settlers to have jumped through the blazing fires? Which is even now performed in the same way for your birthday, Rome.

This very place creates themes for the Poet, the birth of the city has arrived! Attend, Great Quirinus, with your exploits having been performed! Just now the brother of Numitor had suffered punishments, and all of the shepherds were a flock under the Twin Leader. And it is arranged for the country people to assemble, and to build the city walls for either of the two leaders: it is disputed, either twin might establish the city walls.

“A task with any competition is nonsense,” Romulus said. “The omen of birds is powerful, let us put the birds to the test.” The circumstance is acceptable: one approaches the stones of the woody Palatine, the other, arrives early in the morning at the top of the Aventine. Six are for Remus; Romulus sees twice six birds in a row, he is abiding by their pact, and Romulus has the authority of the city. The appropriate day is chosen, on which the walls might be marked with a plough. The Festival of Pales was due to arrive: then, the work is undertaken. The trench is made down to the solid bedrock, crops are thrown into the bottom and so is earth having been procured from neighboring soil. The trench is refilled with soil, and an altar is built on the full thing, and the new hearth is completed by an attendant with fire. Next, Romulus, pressing the plough shaft, marks out the walls with a ceremonial furrow; a white cow with a snowy ox carry the plough-yoke, this was the speech of the king: “Jupiter! Be present at the founding, in the city, you, too, Father Mavors and Mother Venus! And it is natural to summon those gods, pay attention, all of you! Let the work emerge for the augurs, for you all, for this, for me. May her lifetime be long, and may the power of the earth be for this Mistress, and may the rising sun and the setting sun be subject to Her.” He was praying, and Jupiter has given omens with favorable thunder and lightning having been sent from the favorable pole. The happy citizens lay the foundations by the omen and, in a short time, there is a new. By this, Celer urges the work, who Romulus himself had called upon and had said: “Celer, let that very thing be your worry! Nor let one who either crosses the walls or to pour out of the trench having been built: deliver the one who dares to do such things to a violent death.”

Because Remus, being ignorant, begins to insult the short walls and he starts to say: “By these the community will be safe?” With no delay, he has jumped over them. Celer took the daring one by surprise with a shovel; he, blood-stained, presses into the hard earth. When the King learned these things, he repressed his tears, having risen internally, and he keeps the wound enclosed in his chest. He did not want to publicly lament the shovel, and he kept the powerful precedent, and he says: “Similarly, might an enemy pass over my walls.” Nevertheless, he gave a funeral procession, and yet now he could not tolerate to suspend his weeping, and his love, having been concealed, is exposed; and he has placed his final kisses, with the bier having been arranged, and then he says: “Brother, in unwilling deprivation, be well!” He has anointed the limbs that are about to be burned; they perform as he did, Faustus and Acca, her mournful hair having been untied. Then, the Quirites, having not yet been created, have wept for the young man; the flame, having been applied underneath, is the end for the funeral pure having been grieved for. The city, about to be built, emerges as the conqueror, her foot on the known-lands (back then who might be able to confide to anyone about this?) May you command all things, and please! always be under the rule of Great Caesar; frequently, too, keep a great number of this name! And may you have stood firm on the world, having been subdued, may everything be lower than your position.

—

Nox abiit, oriturque Aurora. Parilia  poscor: non poscor frustra, si favet alma Pales, alma Pales, faveas pastoria sacra canenti, prosequor officio si tua festa meo. certe ego de vitulo cinerem stipulasque fabalis saepe tuli plena, februa casta, manu: certe ego transilui positas ter in ordine flammas, udaque roratas laurea misit aquas, mota dea est operique favet: navalibus exit puppis, habent ventos iam mea vela suos. i, pete virginea, populus, suffimen ab ara: Vesta dabit, Vestae munere purus eris. sanguis equi suffimen erit vitulique favilla, tertia res durae culmen inane fabae. pastor, oves saturas ad prima crepuscula lustra: unda prius spargat, virgaque verrat humum, frondibus et fixis decorentur ovilia ramis, et tegat ornatas longa corona fores. caerulei fiant puro de sulphure fumi, tactaque fumanti sulphure balet ovis. ure mares oleas taedamque herbasque Sabinas, et crepet in mediis laurus adusta focis, libaque de milio milii fiscella sequatur: rustica praecipue est hoc dea laeta cibo. adde dapes mulctramque suas, dapibusque resectis silvicolam tepido lacte precare Palem. ‘consule’ dic ‘pecori pariter pecorisque magistris: effugiat stabulis noxa repulsa meis. sive sacro pavi sedive sub arbore sacra, pabulaque e bustis inscia carpsit ovis: si nemus intravi vetitum, nostrisve fugatae sunt oculis nymphae semicaperque deus: si mea falx ramo lucum spoliavit opaco, unde data est aegrae fiscina frondis ovi: da veniam culpae, nec, dum degrandinet, obsit agresti fano supposuisse pecus, nec noceat turbasse lacus, ignoscite, nymphae, mota quod obscuras ungula fecit aquas, tu, dea, pro nobis fontes fontanaque placa numina, tu sparsos per nemus omne deos. nec Dryadas nec nos videamus labra Dianae, nec Faunum, medio cum premit arva die. pelle procul morbos; valeant hominesque gregesque, et valeant vigiles, provida turba, canes. neve minus multos redigam, quam mane fuerunt, neve gemam referens vellera rapta lupo. absit iniqua fames: herbae frondesque supersint, quaeque lavent artus quaeque bibantur aquae. ubera plena premam, referat mihi caseus aera, dentque viam liquido vimina rara sero. sitque salax aries, conceptaque semina coniunx reddat, et in stabulo multa sit agna meo. lanaque proveniat nullas laesura puellas, mollis et ad teneras quamlibet apta manus. quae precor eveniant, et nos faciemus ad annum pastorum dominae grandia liba Pali.’ his dea placanda est: haec tu conversus ad ortus dic quater et vivo perlue rore manus, tum licet adposita, veluti cratere, camella lac niveum potes purpureamque sapam; moxque per ardentes stipulae crepitantis acervos traicias celeri strenua membra pede. expositus mos est: moris mihi restat origo: turba facit dubium coeptaque nostra tenet. omnia purgat edax ignis vitiumque metallis excoquit: idcirco cum duce purgat ovis. an, quia cunctarum contraria semina rerum sunt duo discordes, ignis et unda, dei, iunxerunt elementa patres aptumque putarunt ignibus et sparsa tangere corpus aqua? an, quod in his vitae causa est, haec perdidit exul, his nova fit coniunx, haec duo magna putant? vix equidem credo: sunt qui Phaethonta referri credant et nimias Deucalionis aquas. pars quoque, cum saxis pastores saxa feribant, scintillam subito prosiluisse ferunt; prima quidem periit, stipulis excepta secunda est: hoc argumentum flamma Parilis habet? an magis hunc morem pietas Aeneia fecit, innocuum victo cui dedit ignis iter? num tamen est vero propius, cum condita Roma est, transferri iussos in nova tecta Lares mutantesque domum tectis agrestibus ignem et cessaturae supposuisse casae, per flammas saluisse pecus, saluisse colonos? quod fit natali nunc quoque, Roma, tuo. Ipse locus causas vati facit, urbis origo venit, ades factis, magne Quirine, tuis! iam luerat poenas frater Numitoris, et omne pastorum gemino sub duce volgus erat. contrahere agrestes et moenia ponere utrique convenit: ambigitur, moenia ponat uter. ‘nil opus est’ dixit ‘certamine’ Romulus ‘ullo: magna fides avium est, experiamur aves.’ res placet, alter adit nemorosi saxa Palati, alter Aventinum mane cacumen init. sex Remus, hic volucres bis sex videt ordine, pacto statur, et arbitrium Romulus urbis habet, apta dies legitur, qua moenia signet aratro. sacra Palis suberant: inde movetur opus. fossa fit ad solidum, fruges iaciuntur in ima et de vicino terra petita solo. fossa repletur humo, plenaeque imponitur ara, et novus accenso fungitur igne focus. inde premens stivam designat moenia sulco; alba iugum niveo cum bove vacca tulit, vox fuit haec regis: ‘condenti, Iuppiter, urbem et genitor Mavors Vestaque mater, ades; quosque pium est adhibere deos, advertite cuncti. auspicibus vobis hoc mihi surgat opus. longa sit huic aetas dominaeque potentia terrae, sitque sub hac oriens occiduusque dies.’ ille precabatur, tonitru dedit omina laevo Iuppiter, et laevo fulmina missa polo. augurio laeti iaciunt fundamina cives, et novus exiguo tempore murus erat. hoc Celer urget opus, quem Romulus ipse vocarat, ‘sint,’ que ‘Celer, curae’ dixerat ‘ista tuae, neve quis aut muros aut factam vomere fossam transeat: audentem talia dede neci.’ quod Remus ignorans humiles contemnere muros coepit et ‘his populus’ dicere ‘tutus erit?’ nec mora, transiluit. rutro Celer occupat ausum; ille premit duram sanguinulentus humum. haec ubi rex didicit, lacrimas introrsus obortas devorat et clausum pectore volnus habet, flere palam non volt exemplaque fortia servat, ‘sic’ que ‘meos muros transeat hostis’ ait. dat tamen exequias nec iam suspendere fletum sustinet, et pietas dissimulata patet; osculaque adplicuit posito suprema feretro atque ait ‘invito frater adempte, vale!’ arsurosque artus unxit, fecere, quod ille, Faustulus et maestas Acca soluta comas. tum iuvenem nondum facti flevere Quirites; ultima plorato subdita flamma rogo est. urbs oritur (quis tunc hoc ulli credere posset?) victorem terris impositura pedem, cuncta regas et sis magno sub Caesare semper, saepe etiam pluris nominis huius habe; et quotiens steteris domito sublimis in orbe, omnia sint numeris inferiora tuis.

—

P. Ovidius Naso, “Fastorum Libri Sex,” Lib. IV 721-862

Here are the Games of Ceres. There is no need for an excuse by an Omen: it is evident that the Public Shows have been earned unaided by the Goddess.

Fresh grasses, which the Earth gave with no tampering, were bread to the First Mortals. Long ago they gathered long-lived herbs from the turf, now dishes are the just the tips of tender leaves. Presently the acorn has grown: indeed, it was good when the acorn was discovered: the hardy oak has splendid resources. Ceres first changed this by calling humans to better nourishment. She exchanged acorns for useful food.

She gathered bulls together to hold out their necks to the yoke: then the Earth, having been upturned, saw its first sunlight. Copper was in vogue then, iron ore was unknown: alas, that stuff should be hidden forever. Ceres delights in peace. Tell us, farmers, about continuous peace and a peace-making leader. It is permitted that you might devote an offering, spelt and leaping grains, to the Goddess, and that you might place incense in the ancient altar. If incense is unavailable, set a resinous pine torch alight. Little efforts, let them be only innocent, satisfy Kind Ceres.

Remove the knife of girded attendants from the cow; let the cow plough. Sacrifice the lazy sow. A neck suitable for the yoke must not be struck with a death blow: she might live and might often work the tough soil.

This very subject, the Kidnapping of the Girl, is examined. You will recognize most of it, and might be taught little new:

‘The Sicilian land juts out into the sea with three tall promontories, and has attained its place name from its position. It is the dear home of Ceres, though She has occupied many cities, among whom Henna is fertile with cultivated soil. Cold Arethusa had summoned the Mothers of the Gods, and the Golden Goddess had come to the Holy Feast. Her daughter, when accompanying Her, was with her usual girls, and was wandering through her own meadows on bare feet. Close to the shady valley is a place wet with the continuous spray of water leaping down from high above. So many colors, as many as nature contains, had been at that place, and the painted Earth shone with different types of flowers. As soon as Persephone caught sight of this place, she said: “Ladies, come here and carry dress-skirts full of flowers back home with me.”

Idle plunder enticed girlish thoughts and no exertion was experienced by the assiduous attendants. This girl fills baskets woven out of pliant willow. This girl fills her lap, she weighs down the loose folds. That girl gathers marigolds, violet beds are the concern of this girl. That girl clips poppy heads with her nails. You, iris, fascinate these girls; you, amaranth, entertain those girls. Part love wild thyme, part love the rose, part love yellow clover. Roses had been gathered the most, and there were flowers without names, too. Persephone herself picked fine crocus and white lilies. Gathering her flowers with enthusiasm, she had been gradually walking further away, and by chance no attendants had followed their mistress.

Her father’s brother saw her, and having been aware of her, swiftly snatched her away. On horses the color of Dusk, he brought her into his own Kingdoms. It is true she cried out: “Ah! Dearest mother, I am being kidnapped!” She tore at her voluminous clothes, but nevertheless a road opened up out of the ground for Pluto; for indeed his horses, unaccustomed to being above ground, experienced daylight with difficulty.

Look now, the uniform troop of attendants, with wicker baskets overloaded with flowers, shout: “Persephone! I’m back with your gifts!” When the Girl they had been calling remains silent, they fill the mountain with wailing and strike their naked chests with sorrowful hands.

Ceres was astounded by the wailing (She had only just gotten to Henna), but without delay: “I am so distraught!” She said. “My daughter, where are you?”

She was stolen. And so Ceres was in need of a plan, pacing like the Thracian Bacchants we are used to hearing stories about, with Her hair in disarray, groaning as a mother-cow does when her calf is stolen from her udder, searching for her offspring in every grove. Just like the cow, the Goddess does not restrain Her groaning, and deeply upset by running around, She began Her search in your fields, Henna. From there, She happened upon the footprints of a girlish sole. She saw the Earth had been stamped with a familiar weight. Perhaps that day might have been the last of Her wandering, if pigs had not muddied the clues She had discovered.

Next, She passed at speed through Leotini and the Amenana River, as well as your banks, grassy Aci. She overtook Cyane and the Spring of Gentle Anapus. And you Gela (one must not go near the whirlpools.) She left Ortygia, Megarea, and Pantagia, by whom the Sea accepts the Symaethean Waters. She had been putting off the Caves of the Cyclopes with their forges having been set just-so. That place makes the fame of curved sickles. Both Himera and Didymen, both Akraga and Tauromenus. And Melan, the cheerful pasture of the Holy Cows. From here She entered Camerinan, and Thapson and Heloria Tempe, by whom Eryx is situated, forever exposed to the West Wind. And next She had traversed Peloriades and Lilybaea, then Pachynon, the Three Horns of Her own land.

She filled wherever she walked, every region, with her pitiful cries and queries, as the bird wails when Itys has been lost. Now she shouts “Persephone!” then “Daughter!” one after the other. She shouts and alternately calls one name or the other. But neither does Persephone hear Ceres nor the daughter her mother, and alternately one name, then the other, is lost. She had one question, if perhaps she might see a shepherd protecting his fields: “Has a girl hurried this way with anyone?”

By then one color stained reality, and darkness hid everything, indeed even the watchful dogs became silent. Tall Mt. Etna is situated over the mouth of titanic Typhoeus, the ground of which is burned by his vomited fire. There she lights twin pine branches for torches (it is for this reason why nowadays pine torches are also devoted to the shrines of Ceres).

There is a rugged cave, constructed of worn-away pumice, a place which submits neither to man nor beast, to which she came, and then, at once she harnessed restrained serpents to her chariot, and dry, she roamed over the sea-waters. She escaped Syrtes, the great sandbank, and you, Zanclean Charybdis, and you, Nisaean Hounds, the shipwreck monsters. She extensively searched the open Adriatic and Corinth-between-Two-Seas: in this way she came to your harbors, Attic country. Here, she sat, most sorrowful, for the first time, on a cold boulder (nowadays, too, the Athenians call it the Sad Rock.)

In the open air, She waited, motionless, for many days, unyielding to the Moon and to Rain Water. Luck is theirs in this place: now it is named the Eleusis of Ceres, here were the lands of Old Celeus. He carried acorns and berries knocked off the bramble bushes, and dry wood to be burned on the hearth. His young daughter was driving two she-goats from the mountain, and his delicate son was sick in his cradle.

“Mother!” said the girl (the goddess was startled by the name of ‘Mother’) “What are you doing all by yourself in this lonely place?” And the older man stopped, although he was burdened with his cargo, and begs that She might go under the roof of his house, however small.

She refuses, impersonating an old woman and wrapping up Her hair in a turban. She turns back to the insistent man and mentions such things: “May you always be a lucky parent! My daughter was stolen from me. Alas! Your fortune is better than my fate!” She said, and a bright droplet like tears (for in fact, it is not possible for the Gods to weep) fell into Her warm skirt-lap. The sensitive girl and old man wept together with passion, out of which there came these words from the proper old man: “Yes. May your daughter, who you search for and who has been snatched away from you, be safe and sound. Stand up, and do not disdain the roof of my little cottage.”

To whom the Goddess said “Leader! You have discovered the words by which you are able to compel me.” And She lifted herself from the rock and closely followed the old man. The leader told his companion how his sick son is: he does not experience sleep, and is kept awake by illness.

She plucks a sleepy and soft poppy from the wild ground, just as they are about to enter the little house. As She picks, the flower is allowed to be tasted, with her judgement having been forgotten, and unthinking, She was allowed to lay aside Her long fast. Because of this the Principal set aside Her hunger at night, and the Priests of Her Mysteries regard star-rise as the time of food.

When she entered the house, she saw mourning filling everything: by then there was no hope of life or health in the boy. With the mother having been greeted (the mother was named Metanira), She thought the childish mouth worthy to be joined with Her own. His pallor fled, and they saw unexpected energy in his body. Such a great force came from the mouth of the deity. The entire house was joyous, by him were mother and father and daughter: these three were the whole household. Afterwards, a feast was set out: rennet softened with milk, fruits, and golden honey in its own waxy cells. Kind Ceres abstained: She gave poppies, the cause of sleep, to you, boy, to be drunk with warm milk.

It was the middle of the night and there was the silence of mellow sleep. She lifted the boy, Triptolemus, into Her own lap. Three times She gently rubbed him with Her hand, three times She sang verses, songs not meant to be repeated with mortal sounds. She buried the body of the boy in the hearth, among the surviving embers, so that the fire might remove his burden of mortality. Foolishly, his devoted mother was roused from sleep and frantic, she exclaimed: "What are you doing?!” and snatched his limbs from the fire. The goddess said to her: “While you are not wicked, you have done harmful things: my gifts are made useless by a mother’s anxiety. Certainly, that boy will be mortal, but he will also be the first to plough, and to sow seed and to build up a profit from cultivating the land.”

She spoke and departed, dragging down a cloud and going over to Her serpents. Ceres is lifted up on Her winged chariot. She forsakes exposed Sunion and the safe Piraean harbors, and the coast lying to the right of its entrance, by Her departure. From here She enters the Aegean Sea, in whom She sees all the Cyclades, and She wanders through the Ionic Sea, and the greedy Icarian Sea. She proceeds through the cities of Asia, the vast Hellespontus Sea, and in these regions She, high above, roams a back-and-forth course. Just now She looks down on the incense-gathering Arabs, then the Indus River. From here Libya, from there Meroe, among the dry land. Now she approaches the West: the Rhine, and Rhone, and Po Rivers, and you, Tiber, parent-to-be of a powerful water.

By whom am I conducted? It is impossible to list all the lands She wandered over: there is no place in the world neglected by Ceres.

And so She wanders among the atmosphere, free of the flowing sea, addressing the nearest constellation in the frosty heavens.

“Arcadian stars (for indeed you are able to know all things since you never sink beneath the sea waters), show My daughter Persephone to Me, a miserable parent!” she said, to which the Great Bear brought the following words:

“Night is free from fault; consult the Sun about your stolen girl, he who sees far and wide the things done in the daytime.”

The Sun, having been approached by Ceres, said: “I know what you seek. Your distress is not in vain: she commands the Third Realm, having been married to the brother of Jupiter.”

She wailed with Herself for a long while.

She accosts the Thunderer likewise. There were the greatest signs of suffering in Her expression: “If You remember from whom My Persephone originated, she ought to have half of Your concern. By wandering through the world, I have learned of only the injustice of the act that was done: her rapist gets to have the reward of marriage. And neither is Persephone deserving of a conjugal thief, nor should Our son-in-law be provided to us in this manner. Would have I, captured by Gyges the Conqueror, endured worse things than what I now put up with in the Kingdom of the Sky with You in charge? Let the truth move on, unpunished, We, unavenged, will endure this; but let Him return her and correct His previous action with new ones.”

Jupiter calms her, and apologizes for the things that have been done, with love: “That son-in-law is not shameful for Us,” he said. “I am not more high-born than He: My Kingdom has been placed in the Sky, another occupies the Waters, and the last the empty Lower World. But if, by chance, your feelings-heart is not changeable and stands to break the bond of a wedding bed having been joined but once, by this, too, let us try, if only she, fasting, has endured; if she has eaten even a little, she will be the wife of the Underground Spouse.”

Mercury Caducifer having been commanded approaches Tartarus with his wings having been taken up. And with Hope, he more swiftly returns, and reports the fixed things having been seen:

“The abducted girl,” he said, “has dissolved her hunger with three seeds, which the purple-pomegranate fruit hides with a flexible rind.”

She has not felt less grief, than if the girl might have been just stolen. The Parent in Mourning, having been scarcely comforted takes a long pause, and She said as follows: “You command me, too, to be taken back by the Infernal Valley.”

And She was about to do it, unless Jupiter might make a bargain, so that that Girl might live two-times three months in the Heavens. Only then does Ceres regain both countenance and spirit and has replaced the corn wreathes in her hair. And a plentiful harvest has appeared in the fields having been delayed; and the threshing-ground can hardly grasp the riches having been collected. White is becoming of Ceres: don white clothing for the Cerialia: now the use of a dusky-mourning fleece is avoided.

—

Hinc Cereris ludi. non est opus indice causae;

sponte deae munus promeritumque patet.

panis erat primis virides mortalibus herbae,

quas tellus nullo sollicitante dabat;

et modo carpebant vivax e cespite gramen,

nunc epulae tenera fronde cacumen erant,

postmodo glans nata est: bene erat iam glande reperta,

duraque magnificas quercus habebat opes.

prima Ceres homine ad meliora alimenta vocato

mutavit glandes utiliore cibo.

illa iugo tauros collum praebere coegit:

tunc primum soles eruta vidit humus.

aes erat in pretio, chalybeia massa latebat:

eheu! perpetuo debuit illa tegi.

pace Ceres laeta est; et vos orate, coloni,

perpetuam pacem pacificumque ducem,

farra deae micaeque licet salientis honorem

detis et in veteres turea grana focos,

et, si tura aberunt, unctas accendite taedas:

parva bonae Cereri, sint modo casta, placent,

a bove succincti cultros removete ministri:

bos aret; ignavam sacrificate suem.

apta iugo cervix non est ferienda securi:

vivat et in dura saepe laboret humo.

Exigit ipse locus, raptus ut virginis edam:

plura recognosces, pauca docendus eris.

terra tribus scopulis vastum procurrit in aequor

Trinacris, a positu nomen adepta loci,

grata domus Cereri, multas ea possidet urbes,

in quibus est culto fertilis Henna solo.

frigida caelestum matres Arethusa vocarat:

venerat ad sacras et dea flava dapes.

filia, consuetis ut erat comitata puellis,

errabat nudo per sua prata pede.

valle sub umbrosa locus est aspergine multa

uvidus ex alto desilientis aquae.

tot fuerant illic, quot habet natura, colores,

pictaque dissimili flore nitebat humus.

quam simul aspexit, ‘comites, accedite’ dixit

‘et mecum plenos flore referte sinus.’

praeda puellares animos prolectat inanis,

et non sentitur sedulitate labor.

haec implet lento calathos e vimine nexos,

haec gremium, laxos degravat illa sinus:

illa legit calthas, huic sunt violaria curae,

illa papavereas subsecat ungue comas:

has, hyacinthe, tenes; illas, amarante, moraris:

pars thyma, pars rorem, pars meliloton amat.

plurima lecta rosa est, sunt et sine nomine flores;

ipsa crocos tenues liliaque alba legit,

carpendi studio paulatim longius itur,

et dominam casu nulla secuta comes.

hanc videt et visam patruus velociter aufert

regnaque caeruleis in sua portat equis,

illa quidem clamabat ‘io, carissima mater,

auferor!’ ipsa suos abscideratque sinus:

panditur interea Diti via, namque diurnum

lumen inadsueti vix patiuntur equi.

at chorus aequalis, cumulatis flore canistris,

‘Persephone,’ clamant ‘ad tua dona veni!’

ut clamata silet, montes ululatibus implent

et feriunt maesta pectora nuda manu.

attonita est plangore Ceres (modo venerat Hennam)

nec mora, ‘me miseram! filia,’ dixit ‘ubi es?’

mentis inops rapitur, quales audire solemus

Threicias fusis maenadas ire comis,

ut vitulo mugit sua mater ab ubere rapto

et quaerit fetus per nemus omne suos:

sic dea nec retinet gemitus et concita cursu

fertur et a campis incipit, Henna, tuis.

inde puellaris nacta est vestigia plantae

et pressam noto pondere vidit humum;

forsitan illa dies erroris summa fuisset,

si non turbassent signa reperta sues.

iamque Leontinos Amenanaque flumina cursu

praeterit et ripas, herbifer Aci, tuas;

praeterit et Cyanen et fontes lenis Anapi

et te, verticibus non adeunde Gela.

liquerat Ortygien Megareaque Pantagienque,

quaque Symaetheas accipit aequor aquas,

antraque Cyclopum positis exusta caminis,

quique locus curvae nomina falcis habet,

Himeraque et Didymen Acragantaque Tauromenumque

sacrarumque Melan pascua laeta boum.

hinc Camerinan adit Thapsonque et Heloria Tempe.

quaque iacet Zephyro semper apertus Eryx.

iamque Peloriadem Lilybaeaque, iamque Pachynon

lustrarat, terrae cornua trina suae.

quacumque ingreditur, miseris loca cuncta querellis

implet, ut amissum cum gemit ales Ityn,

perque vices modo ‘Persephone!’ modo ‘filia!’ clamat,

clamat et alternis nomen utrumque ciet.

sed neque Persephone Cererem nec filia matrem

audit, et alternis nomen utrumque perit;

unaque, pastorem vidisset an arva colentem,

vox erat ‘hac gressus ecqua puella tufit?’

iam color unus inest rebus, tenebrisque teguntur

omnia, iam vigiles conticuere canes:

alta iacet vasti super ora Typhoeos Aetne,

cuius anhelatis ignibus ardet humus;

illic accendit geminas pro lampade pinus:

hinc Cereris sacris nunc quoque taeda datur.

est specus exesi structura pumicis asper,

non homini regio, non adeunda ferae:

quo simul ac venit, frenatos curribus angues

iungit et aequoreas sicca pererrat aquas,

effugit et Syrtes et te, Zanclaea Charybdis,

et vos, Nisaei, naufraga monstra, canes,

Hadriacumque patens late bimaremque Corinthum:

sic venit ad portus, Attica terra, tuos.

hic primum sedit gelido maestissima saxo:

illud Cecropidae nunc quoque triste vocant.

sub Iove duravit multis inmota diebus,

et lunae patiens et pluvialis aquae,

fors sua cuique loco est: quod nunc Cerialis Eleusin

dicitur, hoc Celei rura fuere senis.

ille domum glandes excussaque mora rubetis

portat et arsuris arida ligna focis.

filia parva duas redigebat monte capellas,

et tener in cunis filius aeger erat.

‘mater!’ ait virgo (mota est dea nomine matris)

‘quid facis in solis incomitata locis?’

restitit et senior, quamvis onus urget, et orat,

tecta suae subeat quantulacumque casae.

illa negat, simularat anum mitraque capillos

presserat. instanti talia dicta refert:

‘sospes eas semperque parens! mihi filia rapta est.

heu, melior quanto sors tua sorte mea est!’

dixit, et ut lacrimae (neque enim lacrimare deorum est)

decidit in tepidos lucida gutta sinus,

flent pariter molles animis virgoque senexque;

e quibus haec iusti verba fuere senis:

‘sic tibi, quam raptam quaeris, sit filia sospes,

surge nec exiguae despice tecta casae.’

cui dea ‘duc!’ inquit ‘scisti, qua cogere posses,’

seque levat saxo subsequiturque senem,

dux comiti narrat, quam sit sibi filius aeger

nec capiat somnos invigiletque malis.

illa soporiferum, parvos initura penates,

colligit agresti lene papaver humo;

dum legit, oblito fertur gustasse palato

longamque imprudens exsoluisse famem.

quae quia principio posuit ieiunia noctis,

tempus habent mystae sidera visa cibi.

limen ut intravit, luctus videt omnia plena:

iam spes in puero nulla salutis erat.

matre salutata (mater Metanira vocatur)

iungere dignata est os puerile suo.

pallor abit, subitasque vident in corpore vires:

tantus caelesti venit ab ore vigor.

tota domus laeta est, hoc est materque paterque

nataque: tres illi tota fuere domus.

mox epulas ponunt, liquefacta coagula lacte

pomaque et in ceris aurea mella suis.

abstinet alma Ceres somnique papavera causas

dat tibi cum tepido lacte bibenda, puer.

noctis erat medium placidique silentia somni:

Triptolemum gremio sustulit illa suo

terque manu permulsit eum, tria carmina dixit,

carmina mortali non referenda sono,

inque foco corpus pueri vivente favilla

obruit, humanum purget ut ignis onus.

excutitur somno stulte pia mater et amens

‘quid facis?’ exclamat membraque ab igne rapit.

cui dea ‘dum non es’ dixit ‘scelerata, fuisti:

inrita materno sunt mea dona metu.

iste quidem mortalis erit, sed primus arabit

et seret et culta praemia tollet humo.’

dixit et egrediens nubem trahit inque dracones

transit et alifero tollitur axe Ceres.

Sunion expositum Piraeaque tuta recessu

linquit et in dextrum quae iacet ora latus.

hinc init Aegaeum, quo Cycladas aspicit omnes,

Ioniumque rapax Icariumque legit,

perque urbes Asiae longum petit Hellespontum,

diversumque locis alta pererrat iter.

nam modo turilegos Arabas, modo despicit Indos,

hinc Libys, hinc Meroe siccaque terra subest;

nunc adit Hesperios Rhenum Rhodanumque Padumque

teque, future parens, Thybri, potentis aquae,

quo feror? inmensum est erratas dicere terras:

praeteritus Cereri nullus in orbe locus.

errat et in caelo liquidique inmunia ponti

adloquitur gelido proxima signa polo:

‘Parrhasides stellae (namque omnia nosse potestis,

aequoreas numquam cum subeatis aquas),

Persephonen natam miserae monstrate parenti!’

dixerat, huic Helice talia verba refert:

‘crimine nox vacua est; Solem de virgine rapta

consule, qui late facta diurna videt.’

Sol aditus ‘quam quaeris,’ ait ‘ne vana labores,

nupta Iovis fratri tertia regna tenet.’

questa diu secum, sic est adfata Tonantem,

maximaque in voltu signa dolentis erant:

‘si memor es, de quo mihi sit Proserpina nata,

dimidium curae debet habere tuae.

orbe pererrato sola est iniuria facti

cognita: commissi praemia raptor habet.

at neque Persephone digna est praedone marito,

nec gener hoc nobis more parandus erat.

quid gravius victore Gyge captiva tulissem,

quam nunc te caeli sceptra tenente tuli?

verum impune ferat, nos haec patiemur inultae;

reddat et emendet facta priora novis.’

Iuppiter hanc lenit factumque excusat amore,

‘nec gener est nobis ille pudendus’ ait.

‘non ego nobilior: posita est mihi regia caelo,

possidet alter aquas, alter inane chaos,

sed si forte tibi non est mutabile pectus,

statque semel iuncti rumpere vincla tori,

hoc quoque temptemus, siquidem ieiuna remansit;

si minus, inferni coniugis uxor erit.’

Tartara iussus adit sumptis Caducifer alis

speque redit citius visaque certa refert:

‘rapta tribus’ dixit ‘solvit ieiunia granis,

Punica quae lento cortice poma tegunt.’

non secus indoluit, quam si modo rapta fuisset,

maesta parens, longa vixque refecta mora est,

atque ita ‘nec nobis caelum est habitabile’ dixit;

‘Taenaria recipi me quoque valle iube.’

et factura fuit, pactus nisi Iuppiter esset,

bis tribus ut caelo mensibus illa foret.

tum demum voltumque Ceres animumque recepit

imposuitque suae spicea serta comae;

largaque provenit cessatis messis in arvis,

et vix congestas area cepit opes.

alba decent Cererem: vestis Cerialibus albas

sumite; nunc pulli velleris usus abest.

—

P. Ovidius Naso, “Fastorum Libri Sex,” Lib. IV 393-620

The Curious Case of Aetiology: Blaming Everything on an “-ology”

In a world where every sneeze, bad hair day, and inexplicable craving for cheese puffs demands an explanation, one discipline has heroically—and hilariously—risen to the challenge: aetiology, the science of causation. While most people assume that “aetiology” is merely the fancy way doctors explain why Aunt Edna sneezes when she sees a dust bunny, a deeper dive into this venerable field reveals it to be the ultimate scapegoat for all of life’s misfortunes. When the Cause Is Worse Than the Symptom Earlier this month, at the Annual Convention of Professional Overthinkers (ACPO), delegates from every continent gathered to debate whether the true root cause of Monday mornings was cosmic injustice or a shortage of coffee beans in the Northern Hemisphere. Dr. Emilia Fuddle, self-appointed president of the National Aetiology Association, declared, “We have conclusively determined that the universal dread of Mondays is due not to calendars but to the misalignment of your chakras with the snooze button on your alarm clock.” Her evidence? A highly dubious poll of five insomniacs and a single barista who once overslept. Experts in aetiology pride themselves on linking every ailment to something far more dramatic than a simple virus. Case in point: last week, pulmonologist-turned-aetiologist Dr. Carl “Cough Doctor” Jenkins published a paper asserting that seasonal allergies are actually caused by microscopic office dust mites plotting to sabotage your weekend plans. Jenkins cites a “confidential office memo” from a dust mite union—complete with a hand-scribbled scrawl warning of “Operation Hayfever Havoc.” Though no independent verification exists, Jenkins insists the memo was notarized in Aruba, which he claims grants it extra credibility. The Evidence—Trust Us, It Exists Aetiologists frequently tout a robust array of evidence: personal anecdotes, shaky eyewitness testimony, and occasionally a chicken bone or two. Take the recent saga of Ms. Tanya Templeton, who attributes her sudden urge to binge-watch reality TV to “an electromagnetic pulse emitted by her fridge.” “I opened it for milk, and suddenly I was four seasons deep into ‘Real Housewives of Toledo,’” she told our correspondent. Ms. Templeton says she witnessed tiny sparks flying from the ice maker—though video evidence consists solely of a shaky smartphone clip shot at 2 a.m. while she was half-asleep. Or consider the widely cited “Adirondack Bounceback Study,” wherein researchers followed 12 hikers who tripped over roots and concluded that tree roots possess a “vindictive intelligence” that seeks out unsuspecting soles. The sample size? One guided hike, two broken ankles, and a retired history teacher who swears he heard the roots whisper, “Ha! Got you!” Though critics call this “anecdotal pseudoscience,” the study remains enshrined in the hallowed halls of Aetiology—and occasionally in middle-school science projects across the country. Analogies Run Amok In a classic display of false analogy, aetiologists often compare human ailments to computer malfunctions. Last Tuesday, Aetiology Today ran a cover story titled “Why Your Gut Is Like Windows 95,” suggesting that digestive issues stem from having too many “programs” (meals) running at once. “Just as Windows 95 would crash when too many applications opened, so too does your stomach rebel when you’re multitasking nachos, soda, and existential dread,” claimed columnist Max Byte. Technology experts ridiculed the comparison, pointing out that Windows 95 didn’t have indigestion, but the piece remains wildly popular on tech forums nonetheless. The Slippery Slope of Causation Aetiologists are also masters of the slippery slope: if you admit that X caused Y, then obviously Z will follow. This summer, a popular Twitter thread claimed that sunburns are the first domino in a chain reaction leading to job loss, existential ennui, and ultimately the downfall of Western civilization. The thread amassed thousands of retweets from people freshly scorched at pool parties, each offering personal stories of career blunders blamed entirely on a lobster-red sunburn. Epidemiologists were baffled; historians shrugged. Aetiologists celebrated another victory. What the Funny People Are Saying “I once blamed my divorce on my toaster’s crumb tray, and thanks to aetiology, I now have a full research paper under review.”—Ron White (impersonator), stand-in comedian “If you think your problems are caused by childhood trauma, wait till you read about the secret government conspiracy of garden gnomes.”—Jerry Seinfeld, in an unverified tweet In Conclusion: A Disclaimer You Can Trust All of the above is—as every seasoned aetiologist would admit—utterly speculative. Attributing causation in life is a delightful art, not an exact science. If you’ve suffered any injuries, inexplicable cravings, or catastrophic meltdowns, don’t blame your socks for tangling, your fridge for conspiring, or your alarm clock for cosmic misalignment. This entirely human collaboration between the world’s oldest tenured professor and a philosophy major-turned-dairy farmer bears no responsibility for your newfound obsession with chicken-bone divination. Any resemblance to real causes—well, that was completely coincidental. Auf Wiedersehen.