For better or worse, James Frazer’s book, The Golden Bough, is perhaps the most well known work of anthropology and launched the fad of comparative mythology. Despite the fact that Frazer’s theories were mostly rejected by academics, he did highlight a few lesser known myths which are very intruiging. I’d like to discuss Frazer’s one of the myths central to Frazer’s theories, and the one for which he named his book: that of the Rex Nemorensis.
Sacral kingship, in Frazer’s conception, is a worldwide belief in which a king acts as the representation of a solar deity and periodically reenacts a fertility rite. It is true that many cultures saw kingship as being more than a temporal post, but that shouldn’t be surprising to us. From what we understand, much of life in the ancient world was saturated with a regard for spiritual matters. It is to be expected that kingship was addressed in a spiritual context in almost every culture that practiced it. Parallels may be found between the Rex Nemorensis and kingship myths in other cultures, but that doesn’t mean that they all follow the same model. With that disclaimer, let’s begin discussing the myth.
Diana Nemorensis was an Italic goddess who was later hellenized and became confused with the Greek goddess Artemis. Her worship was important to the Romans, and her festival of Nemoralia was widely celebrated. The center of her worship, and the origin of the festival, was a sacred grove at Lake Nemi. Inside the grove was a carved image of the goddess, which the Romans considered ancient. Vitruvius calls the image “Etruscan” in form, granting it an antiquity that predates Rome itself. Whatever the origin of Diana Nemorensis, it is clear that she held an important place in the Latin pantheon before Greek myth had encroached on its borders.
The priest of Diana Nemorensis and her ancient forest shrine was the Rex Nemorensis, or King of the Grove. The candidate for priesthood had to first prove his worth by plucking a golden bough from one of the sacred trees (most likely a mistletoe). The candidate then assumed the title of Rex Nemorenesis by killing the previous priest, and was then forever on guard for the one that would seek to supplant him. There seems to have also been a tradition of the priest being an escaped slave, thus providing the impetus for becoming the new priest-king. Diana Nemorensis would provide sanctuary for escaped slaves, but only for the strongest. I think this idea is best expressed in Thomas B. Macaulay’s poem, which I’ve provided below.
Those trees in whose dim shadow
The ghastly priest doth reign
The priest who slew the slayer,
And shall himself be slain.
For Frazer, this ritual king slaying was foundational for his theory of sacral kingship, and though I don’t buy the broad conclusions he draws, it is a very interesting feature. The Romans, for all their bloodlust, were not generally keen on human sacrifice. Their general abhorrence of the practice contributed to their hate of the Carthaginians and their dislike of the Gauls, but there are parts of Roman religion that include oblique human sacrifice, such as in the gladiatorial pits. Any time there is an element of human sacrifice in Roman religion, it feels like an older, latin belief system is rearing its head. The recurring death of the Rex Nemorensis is almost blatantly sacrificial. For the ritual death of a man to have survived so long under a Rome which went so far as to outlaw human sacrifice, the ritual must have been especially important.
Frankly, there is no real evidence to suggest that the Rex Nemorensis is associated with a solar diety or that his death had anything to do with fertility. The death and renewal of the Rex Nemorensis might rather be a connection to the god Virbius, a man who died and was rescued from the underworld by Diana. Virbius then became a deity associated with the forest.
Ultimately, the mythology of Diana Nemorensis and her priests will never be understood with certainty. The earliest Roman concepts of the gods was as disembodied spirits rather than as the anthropomorphic deities they later became. The invasive influence of the Greeks will forever be a stumbling block to our understanding of the original myth and the purpose of its ritual practice. I’m certainly intrigued by the mystery, and returning to the story of the Rex Nemorensis is always a good spur for my imagination.
The Sensiahd word of the day is “monis”, meaning “moon”. Example sentence. Sonoc monis belath ar.
The moon is bright tonight.