Lar and the Hood

No banquet, no funeral, no wedding, certainly no birth celebration unless I'm there, right in the middle, in a place of honor, with my short tunic, my nimbed hair, up on tiptoes in dance, drinking horn in one hand, libation dish in the other, blessing all that goes on.

They said my kind represent the dead, but light-footed as I am in the middle of this family gathering, I look anything but defunct. As long as the family honors me, as it does with offerings every morning at my shrine, I am very much alive, looking to the life of the name, ensuring its prosperity, and perpetuity. Let the penates oversee the paltry affairs of the pantry; I look for glory.

Family lar 

There I was in Lyon, at the nine day celebration of Lucius Septimius Bassianus, first child of the distinguished Punic leader L. Septimius Severus, governor of Gallia Lugdunensis, and his new wife, the beautiful and brilliant Syrian Julia Domna, daughter of Julius Bassianus, high priest of the Sun God El Gabal in Emesa.

The offerings were abundant, the prayers frequent, and, as the child was placed on the ground and then lifted by the proud father to the sky, I inspired profound feelings of joyous anticipation in all.

Then that Celtic killjoy the genius Cucullatus had to chime in. 'Blood,' he intoned.

'What are you talking about you, little gnome. This is no time to time to be gloomy.'

'Fratricide.'

Genius Cucullatus

'Look at me, you cowled creature. This is the time for the solemn dance of deep gratitude, not gnomic sayings of doom.'

'Assassination.'

Julia Domna

'Don't you see how the paterfamilias, still so young, is respected among the senators and consuls. He's a rising star. So cut the direness, you pointed-headed pipsqueak.'

'Suicide.'

'And the mistress, her beauty (oh, that thick, lustrous hair), and besides, her intelligence, her love of philosophy. See the intellectuals attending this happy celebration. If any child were smiled on by fortune, this is he.

'Ignominy.'

'Stop those grumblings growling out of your Gallic hood. You have responsibilities. As domestic spirits, our job is making sure the affairs of this household run smoothly and the name of the family continues generation after generation. If you can't say anything appropriate to the occasion, get back to looking after the herds and flocks, you genius loci'

The philosopher

'Let the larger affairs be my lookout. The deep thoughts, the dreams, the vaunting ambitions, let me look to them. Gravity, beauty, intelligence, all three bless this child. Who are you, Mr Countryman, to comment on these high and mighty things. Why, the master of this household could, if Tyche, goddess of chance (amazon that she is) is with us, could become Augustus--and you can't deny that.'

 Tyche

'Some will nickname the boy Tarautas after the bloody gladiator, but history will know him as the one in the hoodie, Caracalla.'


(Many thanks to the Mullen Gallery at BC for a great Sunday afternoon.)