Kal. Mart. 1st
jf bards may list to secret promptings of the gods, as surely, rumour thinks they may, tell me, thou Marching God (Gradivus), why matrons keep thy feast, whereas thou art apter to receive service from men.” Thus I inquired, and thus did Mars answer me, laying aside his helmet, though in his right hand he kept his throwing spear: “Now for the first time in the year am I, a god of war, invoked to promote the pursuits of peace, and I march into new camps, nor does it irk me so to do; upon this function also do I love to dwell, lest Minerva should fancy that such power is hers alone. Thy answer take, laborious singer of the Latin days, and write my words on memory’s tablets. If you would trace it back to its beginning, Rome was but little, nevertheless in that little town was hope of this great city. The walls were already standing, boundaries too cramped for future peoples, but then deemed too large for their inhabitants. If you ask what my son’s palace was, behold yon house of reeds and straw. There on the litter did he take the boon of peaceful sleep, and yet from that same bed he passed among the stars. Already the Roman had a name that reached beyond his city, but neither wife nor wife’s father had he. Wealthy neighbours scorned to take poor men for their sons-in-law; hardly did they believe that I myself was the author of the breed. It told against the Romans that they dwelt in cattle-stalls, and fed sheep, and owned a few acres of waste land. Birds and beasts mate each with its kind, and a snake has some female of which to breed. The right of inter-marriage is granted to peoples far away; yet was there no people that would wed with Romans. I chafed and said, ‘ Thy father’s temper, Romulus, I have bestowed on thee. A truce to prayers!
What thou seekest, arms will give.’ Romulus prepared a feast for Consus. The rest that happened on that day Consus will tell thee, when thou shalt come to sing of his rites. Cures and all who suffered the same wrong were furious: then for the first time did a father wage war upon his daughters husbands. And now the ravished brides could claim the style of mothers also, and yet the war between the kindred folks kept lingering on, when the wives assembled by appointment in the temple of Juno. Among them my son’s wife thus made bold to speak; ‘ O wives ravished alike—for that is a trait we have in common—no longer may we dawdle in our duties to our kin. The battle is set in array, but choose for which side ye will pray the gods to intervene: on one side stand your husbands in arms and on the other side your sires: the question is whether ye prefer to be widows or orphans. I will give you a piece of advice both bold and dutiful.’ She gave the advice: they obeyed, and unbound their hair, and clad their bodies in the sad weeds of mourners. Already the armies were drawn up in array, alert for carnage; already the bugle was about to give the signal for battle, when the ravished wives interposed between their fathers and husbands, bearing at their bosoms the dear pledges of love, their babes. When with their streaming hair they reached the middle of the plain, they knelt down on the ground, and the grandchildren stretched out their little arms to their grandfathers with winsome cries, as if they understood. Such as could cried ‘ Grandfather! ‘ to him whom then they saw for the first time; such as could hardly do it were forced to try. The weapons and the passions of the warriors fall, and laying their swords aside fathers-in-law and sons-in-law grasp each other’s hands. They praise and embrace their daughters, and the grandsire carries his grandchild on his shield; that was a sweeter use to which to put the shield.
Hence the duty, no light one, of celebrating the first day, my Calends, is incumbent on Oebalian mothers, either because, boldly thrusting themselves on the bare blades, they by their tears did end these martial wars; or else mothers duly observe the rites on my day, because Ilia was happily made a mother by me. Moreover, frosty winter then at last retires, and the snows perish, melted by the warm sun; the leaves, shorn by the cold, return to the trees, and moist within the tender shoot the bud doth swell; now too the rank grass, long hidden, discovers secret paths whereby to lift its head in air. Now is the field fruitful, now is the hour for breeding cattle, now doth the bird upon the bough construct a nest and home; ’tis right that Latin mothers should observe the fruitful season, for in their travail they both fight and pray. Add to this that where the Roman king kept watch, on the hill which now bears the name of Esquiline, a temple was founded, if I remember aright, on this very day by the Latin matrons in honour of Juno. But why should I spin out the time and burden your memory with various reasons? The answer that you seek stands out plainly before your eyes. My mother loves brides; a crowd of mothers throngs my temple; so pious a reason is above all becoming to her and me.” Bring ye flowers to the goddess; this goddess delights in flowering plants; with fresh flowers wreathe your heads. Say ye, “Thou, Lucina, hast bestowed on us the light (lucem) of life”; say ye, “Thou dost hear the prayer of women in travail.” But let her who is with child unbind her hair before she prays, in order that the goddess may gently unbind her teeming womb.
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