Gaelic Folklore (37): The Gods and the Supernatural

The Gods and the Supernatural 

The Nature of Celtic Religion

Because the pagan Celts did not write about themselves, the only way that modern scholars can learn anything about their belief-systems is by constructing hypotheses based upon archaeological sources and historical documents written by contemporary, but alien, classical observers, who selected and often misunderstood what they recorded.

There is another group of documents, those which tell of the earliest Welsh and Irish myths and written in the vernacular. But these have to be treated with extreme caution as sources for pagan Celtic religion, and as a strand of evidence which must be treated separately from contemporary data. This tradition is the work of Christian redactors writing in medieval times, and close links between the undoubted mythology it contains and the evidence which is synchronous with the pagan Celts (around 500 Be to AD 400) cannot usefully be made. Moreover, this vernacular tradition relates only to Wales and Ireland, far from the continental heartlands of the early Celts.

The picture painted by the evidence is of a rich and varied religious tradition. This variety and complexity is due largely to the essential animism which appears to have underpinned Celtic religion, the belief that every part of the natural world, every feature of the landscape, was numinous, possessed of a spirit. These natural forces were perceived as capable of doing humankind good or harm, and so they had to be controlled and their power harnessed by means of divination, sacrifice and other propitiatory rituals. Sacred space could take the form of built shrines, but equally important were natural cult loci such as lakes, springs and trees or open-air enclosures where worshippers were not cut off from the numinous landscape around them.

The perception of the supernatural as being present in the natural world penetrated all aspects of Celtic belief. Thus, the most popular, pan-tribal deities - the celestial gods and the mother-goddesses - were linked to their respective functions as providers of light, heat and fertility. The great healing cults of Romano-Celtic Gaul and Britain were centered upon the natural phenomena of thermal springs. Many divinities - such as Epona, Arduinna, Nodens and Cernunnos - had a close affinity with animals: indeed the horned and antlered gods took on the partial personae of bulls or stags. The perception of spirits in the landscape is amply demonstrated by the names of gods on epigraphic dedications of the Romano-Celtic period, which betray their topographical character, as personifications of places: the identity of gods such as Glanis of Glanum and Nemausus of Nemausus (Nimes), both in Provence, were merged inextricably with their locality.

Cernunnos

Problems of evidence

Sequana

 Leaving aside the difficulties of the written sources for the present, we   have a very real problem in the archaeological (that is the epigraphic   and iconographic) evidence. This results from the fact that the great   majority of inscriptions and images date to the Romano-Celtic rather   than the free Celtic (i.e. pre-Roman) period. There is considerable   overt Roman influence on indigenous religious expression. Gods in   classical guise and bearing Roman names were adopted by the Celts   but with subtle changes, such as the addition of a native surname to a   dedication, or of Celtic symbols - like the wheel or torque - to the   imagery of Jupiter or Mercury. Other divinities, like Cernunnos, the   Mothers, Epona, Sequana and Sucellus, appear almost wholly   indigenous in concept, but their imagery still owes something to   Roman iconography and, of course, their names use Latin forms, even   though their meaning may be Celtic. But even these apparently native   gods are sometimes argued to be the products of Romanization in that,   with a few exceptions, they do not appear in the archaeological record   until the Roman period.

What is perhaps more likely is that the perceptions underlying the identity of these spirits were always present but only took the form of physical images once the stimulus of the great Mediterranean traditions of iconography took hold of the Celtic world. The lack of free Celtic epigraphy and the comparative paucity of pre-Roman religious imagery means that, inevitably, we have to observe Celtic gods through a window created by Rome.

Pre-Roman iconography and cult expression.

Iconography

When an invading group of Celts overran and plundered the sacred Greek site of Delphi in the early third century BC their leader, Brennus, laughed at the anthropomorphic images of the Greek divinities which adorned the great sanctuary. He was apparently scoffing at the naivety of Mediterranean perceptions of the divine. But whilst it is undoubtedly true that religious iconography is comparatively scarce in Celtic lands before the intrusion of Greco-Roman artistic traditions, images of Celtic divinities were nonetheless present in small numbers in the last few centuries before Christ.

Stone sculpture falls into two main distributional clusters: one in central Europe; the other in the area of southern Gaul known later by the Romans as The Province (Provence), because of their early conquest of the region (late second century BC).

The central European group includes large stone male statues, dating between the sixth and third centuries Be, which are presumed to represent gods or dead heroes. One of the earliest such figures is a huge sandstone image from a late Hallstatt burial-mound at Hirschlanden near Stuttgart. He is naked but for a conical helmet, a torque, belt and dagger. His original position may have been at the top of the mound, and he may represent the dead warrior himself or perhaps a war-god, patron of the deceased. (pic. left) The image at Holzerlingen, also in Germany and of similar date, almost certainly represents a god: a rough sandstone block was crudely hewn into a human torso, featureless except for a belt at the waist. But the statue is janiform, surmounted by a dual head bearing horns, perhaps the earliest representation of a Celtic horned god. The carved head from Heidelberg comes from a statue or pillar-stone: dating to the fifth-fourth century Be, it bears a leaf crown consisting of two swelling lobes which meet above the head, and on the forehead is carved a motif which has been interpreted by some as a lotus bud, a Greek symbol of eternity. The two features of crown and lotus may signify divinity: both recur on the pillar-stone at Pfalzfeld in the Rhineland which dates to the same period, and which bears curvilinear foliate Celtic designs out of which peer four leafcrowned human heads. Further east is the third-century Be ritual site of Msecké Zehrovice near Prague, which produced a carved stone head, originally from a life-size statue: the face is that of the typical Celt as stereotyped by classical writers (and more recently by the creators of Asterix): hair en brosse, staring eyes and flowing moustache. The image bears a heavy buffer-torque, probably a symbol of divinity or, at least, high status. It is difficult to interpret the Msecké Zehrovice head as representative of anything other than a god.

The Provencal group of sculptures dates to between the fifth and second centuries Be, and their presence may be due in part to the stimulus of mimetic representation provided by the nearby Greek (Phocean) colony of Marseilles. Such sanctuaries as those at Entremont and Roquepertuse in the lower Rhone valley have produced a rich iconography, including sculptures of crosslegged male figures, some of whom wear armour, and who may be war-gods. The severed human head is a prominent iconographic theme at these shrines, and some of these 'warrior-gods' hold severed heads in their hands, as if reflective of the divine dominance over humans in life and death. Entremont produced a carved pillar of incised human heads; both this sanctuary and that at Roquepertuse had niches, filled with the human skulls of young men killed in battle, built into the structure of the temple. The sanctuary at 

Janiform head, Roquepertuse

Roquepertuse was guarded by a janiform head, perhaps that of the presiding deity, who gazed inwards and outwards from the gateway of his sacred place.  Other stone sculptures, presumed to represent divinities, come from elsewhere in the Celtic heartland: an important example is the boar-god at Euffigneix (Haute Marne), an image which dates to the second or first century Be. The carving takes the form of a roughly hewn pillar depicting a beardless god wearing a heavy torque, with a boar in low relief striding up his torso. On the side of the pillar is an immense human eye, perhaps indicative of protection or omnipotence. The boar's dorsal crest is erect, as if to reflect aggression: for the Celts, the image of the boar was an important war symbol. The Euffigneix deity may himself be a god of war, or perhaps of hunting and wild nature.

Imagery in metal - usually bronze - also bears witness to the representation of divinities in the last few centuries Be. Small figures of warrior- or hunter-gods come from St Maur-en-Chaussee (Oise), Balzars in Liechtenstein  and Dineault in Brittany, the last-mentioned a warrior-goddess with a goose-crested helmet.

Images of animals are more common than are anthropomorphic depictions: bulls, like those from Byciskila (Czechoslovakia) and Hallstatt (Austria), which date to the sixth century Be, may symbolize the sacrifice of an animal which was central to the early Celtic economy. Boar figurines may reflect war symbolism: some, like those at Hounslow (Middlesex), Gaer Fawr and Luncani in Romania, were probably helmet crests. But the bronze boars from Neuvy-en-Sullias (Loiret) are nearly life-size and almost certainly came from a shrine. The Neuvy hoard dates to the very end of the Gaulish Iron Age.

The Gundestrup Cauldron is one of the most important pieces of pre-Roman Celtic religious art. It is a large silver-gilt vessel made up of individual plates which bear a complex iconography, including depictions of divinities. The cauldron was found dismantled in a Danish peat-bog at Raevemose Qutiand), and was probably made in the second or first century Be. The circumstances of its manufacture, use and subsequent deposition have long been the subject of controversy.

Gundestrop Cauldron

It was probably made in south-east Europe by Thracian or Dacian silversmiths. Many of the iconographic themes are exotic: lions, elephants and griffons adorn the plates. However, there are a number of unequivocally Celtic motifs: the weapons and armour belong to the Celtic world, and the deities represented may be paralleled in the later Romano-Celtic imagery of Gaul and Britain. These include the antlered god, sometimes identified as 'Cernunnos' because of a first century AD Parisian monument linking this name with a similar antlered figure. On the cauldron, the god is accompanied by a ram-headed snake, an idiosyncratic cult-animal which occurs consistently with the antlered god in Romano-Celtic Gaul. This serpent appears a total of three times on the cauldron. The antlered figure appears with two torques on the vessel, and he is thus represented on a number of later Romano-Gaulish depictions. Interestingly, as early as the fourth century Be, an antlered figure with torques and horned snakes is portrayed in the rock art of Camonica valley in north Italy. Another undoubtedly Celtic divine representation on the Gundestrup vessel is the wheel-god, depicted on an outer plate. Once again, there is good evidence for this deity in Romano-Celtic imagery. The mystery of the Gundestrup Cauldron may never fully be solved. It is possible that south-east European craftsmen were commissioned to make a great cult-vessel for a Celtic clientele. The cauldron could have been looted from Gaul by Teutonic raiders, perhaps the Cimbri, and later buried by them for safety or as an offering to their own gods.

Boar god

 Vincent Megaw has pointed out that the Euffigneix stone boar-god was perhaps   carved by a craftsman who was more familiar with working in wood than in stone.   There is no doubt that images of gods were made in wood, which usually does not   survive. That they may have been common during the Iron Age is suggested by the   chance preservation of these figures in waterlogged contexts. Five pinewood images   of naked warriors with shields and detachable phalli, set in a simple boat model,   were found at Roos Carr in the Humber estuary: they may date from as early as the   seventh century Be. A wooden female image dating to the first century Be comes   from a wicker structure at Ballachulish, Argyll; and there are other stray British   figures. Oak carvings of animals, dendro-dated to 123 Be, come from a shaft at the   Viereckschanze of Fellbach-Schmiden in southern Germany.

 

The first phase of the great healing sanctuary dedicated to Sequana, goddess of the source of the Seine at Fontes Sequanae near Dijon, dates to the interface between the free Celtic and Romano-Celtic periods. This primary, first century Be, phase is represented by more than 200 wooden votives, depictions of pilgrims and the parts of their bodies requiring a cure, which were offered to the power of the sacred spring. Of similar date (first century Be to first century AD) are the more numerous wooden images at Chamalieres (Puy-de-Dome), a holy place where two springs met. We are reminded of Lucan's statement concerning a sacred grove near Marseilles, encountered by Julius Caesar's army: The images were stark, gloomy blocks of unworked timber, rotten with age, whose ghastly pallor terrified their devotees.

We are unable positively to name or identify these pre-Roman gods whose images were carved in stone, wood or bronze because this iconography is unsupported by inscriptions or documents, although their accompanying symbolism may sometimes suggest their possible function.

Ritual Behaviour

It is clear that iconography is by no means the sole evidence for religious expression in the pre-Roman period.

Sword Llyn Cerrig Bach

 Perhaps the most prominent iron age ritual   behaviour  concerns the deposition of prestigious   objects, often of a martial nature, which were   frequently buried on dry land or in watery contexts.   These implements and weapons were often   deliberately bent or broken in order ritually to 'kill'   them and thus render them appropriate as sacrifices   to the spirits of the supernatural world. Examples of   this practice are numerous: in Britain we may cite   the deposit of metalwork, including swords and   chariot fittings, in the marshy lake at Llyn Cerrig   Bach on the island of Anglesey, which spans a   period  between the second century Be and the first   century AD. Broken weapons formed a substantial element of the offerings made at later pre-Roman iron age temples, such as Hayling Island (Hampshire). This occurrence may be closely paralleled at Gournay (Oise). Deposits in Switzerland are particularly prolific:that at La Tene, on the shore of Lake Neuchatel, is well known, but the equally important deposit of weapons and chariot equipment at Tiefenau, in the oppidum of Bern-Engehalbinsel, is less familiar. This evidence of recurrent ritual behavior may be interpreted as 'conspicuous consumption', but equally it may express behaviour associated with a warrior-cult, a practice essentially similar to that described by Caesar: When they have decided to fight a battle, it is to Mars that they usually dedicate the spoils they hope to win.

Classical writers on Celtic Gods

Although Greek and Roman writers recorded their perceptions of Celtic culture and religion, especially from the first century Be, they provide little evidence for the identity or function of Celtic deities. Indeed, such commentators as Caesar, Strabo and Diodorus Siculus are more concerned with ritual practices, such as headhunting, or religious functionaries, like the druids, than with Celtic perceptions of the supernatural world. Caesar alludes to druidic lore concerning the transmigration of souls. Both Lucan and Diodorus comment on this Celtic belief in a cycle of death and rebirth.

Esus

Where mention of the gods does occur, it is heavily overlaid by Roman conflation and misinterpretation. Thus Caesar speaks as if Celtic deities are identical with those of the Roman pantheon, giving them such names as Mercury, Mars and Jupiter. Does this mean that he was unaware of their native names, that they were deliberately kept secret, or that the resemblance with his own gods was so strong that he was concerned to record this similarity? The first century AD Roman poet Lucan does allude to three gods with Celtic names who were apparently encountered by Caesar's army in southern Gaul in the first century Be. These are Esus, Taranis and Teutates, all of whom, states Lucan, demanded appeasement in the form of human sacrifice. Lucan implies that these were important Gaulish divinities, but this is not borne out by archaeological testimony. Taranis and Teutates each occur on a handful of dedications which are scattered within the Romano-Celtic world, and the name Esus appears only once, on an early first-century AD monument in Paris.  All three names are descriptive: Taranis ('Thunderer') is tied to function; Esus means 'Lord' or 'Master'; and Teutates probably refers to the divine leadership of a tribe or tuath. Esus and Teutates are therefore titles rather than names.

Sporadic references to Celtic gods appear in the literature of the Romano-Celtic period. Tertullian and Herodian allude to the cult of Apollo Belenus in Noricum and north Italy, and Ausonius alludes to sanctuaries dedicated to Belenus in Aquitaine in the fourth century AD. Grannus is referred to by Dio Cassius  who speaks of the emperor Caracalla's unsuccessful attempts to find a cure for his physical afflictions at the temples of Grannus, Aesculapius and Serapis. Reference is made to Epona's cult by a number of sources, including Apuleius and Minucius Felix. So the classical literary sources are of very little use in establishing the identities of Celtic gods and the nature of belief. Any detail concerning a Celtic pantheon must be sought from the epigraphy and iconography of the Romano-Celtic world.

The Romano-Celtic tradition

Celtic religious expression is represented during the Roman period by two main strands of material culture: epigraphy and iconography. Inscriptions give us the names of deities; imagery demonstrates how they were perceived as physical manifestations of the supernatural. One immediate problem lies in the fact that, very frequently, an epigraphic dedication to a god occurs without any accompanying image and vice versa. So it is usually impossible to marry images with their names or names with their images. Moreover, there is often a discrepancy between the ethnicity of a god as expressed by his name and by his appearance. Thus a being with a Celtic name - such as Sequana - may look very classical, whilst a god with a Roman name - Mars or Mercury, for instance - may be depicted in wholly native style.

Epigraphy

The names of indigenous Celtic gods may contain Roman and native elements or may be purely Celtic. Thus Mars and Mercury were frequently invoked with different Celtic surnames or epithets: Mars Lenus, worshipped among the Treveri, and Mars Corotiacus, invoked in Suffolk, are just two of numerous examples. Mercury was equally diverse: his titles or surnames include Cissonius and Moccus. Jupiter was surnamed Brixianus in Cisalpine Gaul and Parthinus in north-east Dalmatia, both topographical names associated with high places: these are just two of many such titles. Apollo was worshipped in Gaul mainly as a healer: Moritasgus, Grannus, Belenus and Vindonnus are among his epithets. Sometimes the Celtic name comes first: a good example is Sulis Minerva, the healer-goddess of Bath (Aquae Sulis). The pairing of Roman and Celtic god-names is confusing and difficult to interpret. Sometimes the Celtic surname is descriptive - hence Mars Rigisamus (‘Greatest King') at West Coker in Somerset, or topographical, like Apollo Grannus at Grand in the Vosges. But Sulis was clearly a goddess in her own right, equated in the Roman period with the classical Minerva.

Sucellos

Another method of epigraphic pairing concerns the linkage of male and female divinities. A pattern may be discerned here, in that, very frequently, the male deity bears a Roman or Roman and Celtic name, whilst that of the female is wholly indigenous. Examples include Mercury and Rosmerta; Apollo Grannus and Sirona; Mars Loucetius and Nemetona. Sometimes both members of the divine couple have Celtic names: such is the case with Sucellus and Nantosuelta; Luxovius and Bricta, the local spirits of Luxeuil; or Ucuetis and Bergusia, the craft deities of Alesia. Again the native element may often be interpreted as descriptive: 'Sucellus' means 'The Good Striker' (and his iconographic image is that of a man bearing a long-shafted hammer); Nantosuelta's name means 'Winding Brook'; Rosmerta is 'The Great Provider'; Nemetona 'The Goddess of the ’Sacred Grove'. Interestingly, goddesses like Rosmerta and Sirona may be invoked alone, without their partner, thus signifying their independent status within the Celtic pantheon.

Epigraphy gives us the names of many more purely native divinities, sometimes linked with images. Such is Epona, the great horse-goddess, worshipped all over the Celtic world. The mother-goddesses or deae matres are interesting: often they are known merely by their Latin title 'matres' or 'matronae', but they may bear descriptive epithets which bear witness to localized versions of their cult. The Rhineland mother-goddesses bear outlandish-sounding topographical surnames, such as the Matronae Aufaniae or the Vacallinehae.  The Celtic thunder-god Taranis is sometimes equated with the Roman Jupiter, but his occurrence alone on several inscriptions argues for his independent identity. The god of the Lydney (Glos.) sanctuary, Nodens, is invoked on his own, but he is also linked with both Mars and Silvanus, as if the native god were perceived as possessing an affinity with the functions of both Roman deities. This apparent confusion in pairing recurs, for instance, with Mars and Mercury in Gaul, whose native surnames are sometimes shared: thus both Mars Visucius and Mercury Visucius were invoked on dedications.

The Evidence of Iconography

The imagery of Celtic religion in the Roman period is rich and varied. If it is accompanied by a dedicatory inscription, a sculpture or figurine may be positively identified; if not, the symbols accompanying the image must be used to attempt some classification in terms of character or function. A depiction may be associated with an inscribed name on only one or two stones, although the image itself may appear many times. In

these instances, scholars have tended to use the inscribed name to identify similar images where the dedication is absent. Such is the case with Epona, the horse-goddess, whose image (a woman riding side-saddle on a horse or sitting between two or more horses) is far more common than are epigraphic dedications bearing her name.

Likewise, the inscribed name 'Cernunnos' accompanies a depiction of an antlered, torque-bearing god on an early first-century AD stone in Paris. But there are many images of a similarly antlered being from Romano-Celtic Gaul which bear no name. Are we justified in assuming these portrayals also represent Cernunnos? The name itself merely means 'Horned One', and so it is less a true god-name than a descriptive title. The names Sucellus and Nantosuelta occur at Sarrebourg near Metz, on a carving of a male and female, the most distinctive accompanying symbol being the longshafted hammer borne by Sucellus. But many other images of a similar divine couple were the focus of veneration in Gaul and the Rhineland, without the identifying names, although Sucellus is mentioned on one or two scattered dedications in Britain and Gaul.

The symbols or motifs which accompany images of Celtic deities give some clues as to their function or identity, although our interpretation of these symbols may be open to misconception. The celestial god frequently carries a solar wheel as his main attribute. The fact that this wheel-god is sometimes invoked under the name of Jupiter, the Roman sky-god, makes the native divinity's identification secure. The Celtic god of the sky and sun was sometimes invoked as a divine horseman, the horse symbolizing the prestige and swiftness appropriate to the high god of sun and firmament. Although this equestrian deity is entirely indigenous to the Celtic world, in terms of image and meaning, he is nevertheless venerated under the Roman name, Jupiter. The triple mother-goddesses may be represented by name, but their imagery alone betrays their responsibilities as promoters of fertility. Thus they may be portrayed with babies, children, fruit, corn or loaves. The Burgundian Mothers are often represented one with an infant at the breast, a second with a napkin, and the third with a bath-sponge and basin, and a cornucopia is frequently present in emphasis of the symbolism of abundance. Occasionally, this simple fertility imagery is subtly changed, so that the symbols of fecund plenty are accompanied or partially replaced by motifs of the Fates, such as a balance or spindle, reflective of the thread of life. In these images, the rolled napkin may instead be interpreted as a scroll, the Book of Life.

The Celto-Germanic mother-goddesses are distinctive in their imagery: they never reflect human fertility, but instead their attributes are those of fruit, bread or coins, symbolic of prosperity and commercial success. Moreover, these Rhineland goddesses may represent different ages of womanhood: the central goddess is always depicted as a young girl with flowing hair, whilst her flanking companions are older and wear huge beehive-shaped bonnets or headdresses. The triplistic character of many mother-goddess images expresses the power of 'three' in Celtic religion, a significance which transcends mere intensity of expression by means of repetition.

Triplism is an important characteristic of Celtic religious iconography, and triadism may be observed in imagery other than that of the Mothers. The Genii Cucullati were hooded dwarves associated with fertility, and indeed with the Mothers themselves, and they usually occur in threes. Gods with triple heads were depicted especially among the Remi, the Aedui and Lingones; and a triple-horned bull was venerated particularly in north-east Gaul.

The symbolism of the healer-deities is varied and interesting. The Celtic Mars, at such therapeutic shrines as Mavilly (Cote d'Or) and Trier, is not a warrior in the true, Roman, sense, but instead he fights and protects against ill-health and barrenness. Sometimes, his image is that of a soldier, as at Mavilly. Frequently, the motifs of healing and fertility are blurred and merged. Thus curative goddesses such as Sirona and Damona are represented with ears of corn, eggs and snakes: the corn is a symbol of plenty; eggs have strong fertility associations, but may also represent death and regeneration (since the egg must be broken in order to release new life). Because of their habit of skin-sloughing, serpents were clear symbols of rebirth. Many curative deities were partners, such as Apollo and Sirona: in their imagery, it is often the goddess who possesses the symbolism evocative of function.

But many healer-goddesses themselves carry no emblems which in themselves are indicative of their curative function: Sequana, the divine healer of the Seine at its spring-source near Dijon, is depicted as a woman in a long robe and a diadem, sailing in a duck-prowed boat to reflect her aquatic symbolism. But it is the presence of dedications and votive offerings that identify Sequana as a healer.

Perhaps the most powerful group of images is that associated with animals. The close relationship between god and beast is clearly reflected in iconography which displays the ubiquity and cult importance of animal symbolism. Some creatures accompanied anthropomorphic images, presumably to demonstrate a particular quality or feature associated with the god's character, just as occurs in classical imagery. But there are indications that animals in Celtic religion achieved a status denied them in the Mediterranean world. Some divinities - and Epona is a prime example - are dependent upon animals for their iconographic and epigraphic identity.

Thus, Epona is always depicted riding on a mare or accompanied by horses. Moreover, her name is philologically linked with epos, a Gaulish word for 'horse'. She was the goddess of the craft of horse-breeding, and she was revered by cavalrymen as a divine protectress of them and their animals. But she also possessed wider responsibilities as a deity of fertility and general well-being. There was even an underworld dimension to her cult. Other, less widely known goddesses enjoyed a similar affinity with beasts: Arduinna, the boar-deity of the Ardennes Forest is one; Artio, bear-goddess of Muri in Switzerland, is another.

Artio

It is difficult to establish whether or not the animals themselves possessed divine status; the likelihood is that they were sacred only inasmuch as they symbolized certain features of a particular cult. But there is debate over the status of certain creatures which appear in the iconography: monstrous animals, like the ram-horned serpent and the triple-horned bull, may well have been worshipped as beings of tremendous power, because of their hybrid or unnatural imagery. The triple-horned bull is not associated with any particular anthropomorphic god, but the snake frequently accompanies the antlered god, and is also sometimes linked with Celtic versions of Mars and Mercury. Both images occur mainly in north-east Gaul, although outliers occur as far west as Britain. Both these creatures are endowed with extra features in order to increase their potency: horns are symbols of power and fertility. Possibly linked with the triple-horned bull in some manner is Tarvostrigaranus, the 'Bull with Three Cranes', who is named and depicted on a first century AD stone from Paris.

The sanctity of animals is seen at its least equivocal in the iconography of deities whose images, although essentially anthropomorphic, nevertheless incorporate animal features. Of these, the most important are the horned or antlered gods. Images with bull- or goat-horns appear all over the Romano-Celtic world. A particular group occurs in North Britain, among the Brigantes, where local deities were depicted as naked warriors, often ithyphallic, with bull-horns. A god invoked especially in north-east Gaul is portrayed with antlers, and other recurrent features may also be discerned on these images: these include a cross-legged seating position; the possession of two torques (one worn, one carried); accompaniment by a ram-horned snake and/or stag; the possession of attributes of plenty, such as money, corn or fruit. As discussed above, a god with torques and antlers was invoked as Cernunnos on a Parisian monument, but all other images of an antlered god are without dedications. This image is particularly interesting because, unlike most Romano-Celtic iconography, there are examples which pre-date the Roman period: one of the iron age rock carvings at Val Camonica in north Italy, dating to the fourth century Be, depicts a standing figure with antlers, torques and a horned serpent; and the same god appears on the Gundestrup Cauldron, as we have seen. The presence of semi-zoomorphic images serves to emphasize the lack of rigid boundaries between animal and human which is central to early Celtic religious perceptions. Beasts were revered for their specific qualities (speed, virility, aggression or beauty) and these qualities were woven into the Celtic expression of the supernatural.

The Gods of the earliest written myths

Here, I would like to draw attention to the deities themselves who are presented in this early Celtic literature. As mentioned at the beginning of this chapter, it is important to recognize the impossibility of making direct links between the gods of these western myths and those expressed by the images and inscriptions which are the main concern of this survey. There is a wide spatial and temporal chasm between the evidence for Romano-Celtic religion and the Insular divinities to whom we are introduced in - say - the Irish Book of Invasions.

The early Welsh and Irish deities have names and characters, but no idea of cult or ritual associated with them is present in the documents. They are supernatural heroes rather than true objects of belief. It is within the Irish vernacular tradition that the pagan gods are most clearly developed. The most important are those described in the Book of Invasions, the members of the Tuatha De Danann, the divine race of Ireland, the 'people of the goddess Danu'. The Tuatha De consist of deities with specific functions and responsibilities: these include the Daghdha, who was a specialist in druid lore and magic; Dian Cecht, the physician; Goibhniu, the divine blacksmith; Lugh, the warrior and god of light, who was also skilled in arts and crafts; Brigid, a triple goddess of poetry, prophecy and fertility. The Book of Invasions recounts a series of mythical occupations of Ireland (in order to explain the presence of the Gaels or Celts). The Tuatha De were one invading group, who inhabited the island until dispossessed by the Gaels and forced to create a new magical domain underground. This Otherworld was perceived as a mirror-image of earthly life, but better, a land of immortality, joy and plenty.

The Ulster Cycle, too, had its supernatural beings, though they are portrayed as heroes rather than gods sensu stricto. Chief of the Ulster tales is the Tain Bo Cuailnge, and here we are introduced to such characters as Cu Chulainn, the archetypal champion, and the warlike and promiscuous Medb, queen of Connacht, an euhemerized goddess. These beings are essentially similar to the heroic characters of the Four Branches of the Mabinogi and the Tale of Culhwch and Olwen. The Insular and Welsh mythological traditions contain many common elements: supernatural events; magical cauldrons of regeneration and plenty; beings of superhuman size, strength and wisdom; a brilliantly portrayed Otherworld; the potency of triads; supernatural animals, and the related phenomenon of shapechanging between human and animal form.

A Celtic pantheon?

Leaving aside the separate and contentious issue of the vernacular mythology touched on above, we may legitimately pose the question as to whether it is possible to discern a hierarchy of Celtic divinities from the bewildering array of epigraphic dedications and iconographical forms of pagan Celtic Europe with which we are presented.

Jupiter column

Judging from frequency of occurrences and from distribution, it is possible to make some assessment of the popularity of various god-types. At the top are deities whose names and images appear widely and often throughout the Celtic world. These include the sky- and sun-god, although certain aspects of his cult, such as his depiction as a celestial horseman on the 'Jupiter columns' of eastern Gaul and the Rhineland, may cluster in specific regions. The mother goddesses and Epona likewise transcend tribal boundaries and appear to have been venerated by many different communities. The cults associated with these deities not only spanned wide areas but their worship percolated down from the highest to the humblest echelons of society. For example, some of the Rhineland mother-goddesses were invoked by high-ranking officials in the Roman army or civil magistrates, whilst some Gaulish and British carvings of the goddesses were clearly commissioned by groups of rural people or by a single family for veneration in private shrines. Likewise, the 'Jupiter-Giant columns' set up in honour of the Celtic sky-god were the result of corporate religious activity, but the small pipe-clay figurines of the same god from Gaulish factories would have been purchased by individuals who perhaps could not afford an altar or a bronze statuette.

Less universal than the major, pan-tribal cults were those which had specific centres of popularity but which also occur sporadically elsewhere. The healers Apollo and Sirona had an important temple at Hochscheid in the Moselle Basin and were venerated particularly among the Treveri and the neighbouring Mediomatrici.

But the couple appears also in Burgundy, at Maiain, and Sirona was worshipped as far apart as Brittany and Hungary . Another important divine couple, Mercury and Rosmerta, were prominent especially in central and eastern Gaul, but with a cluster of British monuments among the Dobunni of Gloucestershire. Images of the antlered god occur mainly in eastern Gaul, appearing, for instance, among the Burgundian tribes at such places as Beaune and Etang-sur-Arroux and among the Remi at Reims. But the Santones of Saintes in Aquitaine in western Gaul also venerated the antlered god and his image is even known among the Dobunni of western Britain, at Cirencester.

Certain Celtic divinities were the focus of cults which were of major importance but their veneration was centred upon a particular religious site of which the deity was the resident spirit. Examples such as de Sequana at Fontes Sequanae; Nodens at Lydney on the river Severn and Sulis at Bath. Lenus Mars was a Treveran god, with major sanctuaries at Trier itself, at Mohn and Pommern. But he was worshipped far away from his homeland, at Caerwent in Gwent and at Chedworth in Gloucestershire.

More localized still were the numerous obscure deities who are perhaps mentioned on only one or two dedications and who were apparently venerated solely by the inhabitants of one small settlement, or at the site of a particular spring or mountain. Such was Souconna, the spirit of the river Saone at Chalon or Fagus ('Beech Tree') in the Pyrenees.

Conclusion. 

One of the dangers of a survey such as this is the unwitting presentation of a picture which can assume a timeless continuum, spanning nearly a millennium. This is not the intention, but in part is the inevitable result of studying a period which is essentially prehistoric, where chronology is often imprecise, especially where iconography is concerned. Clearly, it is possible to make distinctions between religious behavior before and after the coming of Roman traditions to Celtic lands. It is possible to observe that imagery increased towards the end of the Iron Age, when Greco-Roman concepts and customs were already intruding upon the Celtic world. Imagery and epigraphy which come from well-excavated sites offer an opportunity for close dating. But all too often, good archaeological contexts are absent for iconography, and dating by style alone is neither easy nor reliable. It is important, however, to acknowledge pagan Celtic religion as a dynamic force, which was constantly changing and responding to the stimuli of new concepts and ideas, whilst still retaining a core of conservatism. It is indeed the tension between tradition and innovation which gives Celtic religion its essential character of diversity and enigma.

(The Celtic World, 1995 Miranda Green)

Gaelic Folklore (35): The Celtic Goddesses Healer

The Celtic Goddesses Healer

Introduction

The evidence for a healer-goddess in Celtic Europe during the early first millennium AD is based almost entirely upon iconographical and epigraphic evidence. Certain concepts need to be introduced here in order that the role of the Goddess as healer may be better understood.

First, there is a strong link between religion and medicine: this is something that is evidenced both in the classical and in the Celtic world. Sick people in antiquity relied upon the healing skills of the supernatural powers at least as much as upon empirical medicine. Indeed, at many therapeutic sanctuaries in Gaul and Britain, doctors were present as well as priests, for example at Fontes Sequanae and Bath; it is even possible that the two roles were sometimes combined in the one individual.

Second, the perception of the numinous in water is important. There is abundant evidence in non-Mediterranean Europe from at least the later Bronze Age—say around 1300 BC—that water was a central focus of ritual activity. During the later Iron Age this activity began to manifest itself in the development of healing sanctuaries on the sites of thermal springs, a phenomenon which burgeoned in the Romano-Celtic phase in the Rhineland, Gaul and Britain.

Third, the evidence for healing cults in Celtic Europe demonstrates a very close link between healing, regeneration and fertility, which may account for the fact that many Celtic divine healers were perceived as female, and for the strong association between curative cult establishments and the mothergoddesses. There is evidence that many devotees of healing-deities were women; the fact that most stone altars were dedicated by men probably does not reflect anything other than economic or social factors. Women may not normally have had the means to erect expensive stone monuments as readily as their male counterparts. However, the cult of Apollo Vindonnus at Essarois in Burgundy seems—from the exvotoes— to have been patronized by women. The lady wearing a torc whose wooden image was dedicated at the thermal shrine of Chamalières in the first century AD was probably a devotee, but it is just possible that she may have been the goddess herself. There is a small amount of evidence for the association of women with the healing professions: at Grand in the Vosges, a stone of Romano-Celtic date depicts the inside of a chemist’s shop with a female chemist at work with mortar and herbs. An inscription and image on a tombstone at Metz betray the presence of a female doctor in the first century AD.

Fourth, we must be wary of positing theories- about the status of women in Celtic society from the importance of the Goddess. Having sounded this note of caution, it is, however, interesting that classical literary references to Celtic women contain many allusions to the contrast between their status and that of their more lowly Mediterranean sisters.

Sequana Of Burgundy

Sequana was a water-spirit, the personification of the River Seine at its source, Fontes Sequanae. Here, in the valley of the Châtillon Plateau, a spring of fresh, pure water wells up from the ground and was the focus of religious devotion from the later first century BC. The spring is pure but it contains no genuine mineral properties. Sequana is special in that she is not paired with any Roman goddess; her name is known from about ten inscriptions, and there is a bronze cult-statue of Sequana herself. In 1963, during the excavation of buildings dating to the Roman period, more than 200 wooden votives were discovered in water-logged ground, apparently pre-dating Roman levels and originally set up perhaps around the sacred pool. The pre-Roman activity centered upon the pool itself; there is no evidence of permanent structures at this time. Shortly after the Roman occupation of the region the sanctuary was monumentalized and the spring canalized. It was now an extensive religious complex, containing two temples, porticoes, a dormitory and reservoirs, still centered on the sacred spring and pool. The votive images were now of stone. In common with the activities at classical healing shrines, sick pilgrims visited the sanctuary bearing offerings—possibly bought at the shrine shop—bathed, slept, and asked for a cure with gifts of models of themselves or their afflictions. Eyes, chest, genitals, limbs—these were just a few of the complaints represented by the votives. The eye problems so prevalent at many shrines could have been due to poor hygiene or malnutrition: a lack of animal fat can cause night-blindness. The votive model breasts in bronze and silver may denote milk deficiency, a serious problem for child-rearing in antiquity. Sequana was not a specialist: she healed all afflictions.

Sequana

Sirona And Her Peers

There is a group of continental healer-goddesses who have a common characteristic: namely, the possession of a male partner. It is the case with the healers, as with other divine couples like Mercury and Rosmerta, that the native goddess seems often to possess a wider variety of functions and concerns than her consort and, in addition, is the less influenced by Graeco-Roman traditions. These goddesses usually have completely native names, and symbolism which is less influenced by Graeco-Roman art forms than their male companions. In addition, they show evidence of independent identity: they are not mere female ciphers attached to the cults of male divinities.

Sirona

Sirona

Sirona is the divine partner of the Celtic healing Apollo, normally called Apollo Grannus (a native epithet associated with Grand in the Vosges). But she occurs alone, for example at Corseul in Brittany, where she is called Tsirona; her high rank is shown by inscriptions where she is linked with the spirit of the emperor. Sirona was venerated alone also at Baumburg in Noricum (Austria). Her cult was widely distributed and may well have pre-dated the Roman occupation of Gaul and elsewhere. Sirona was at her most popular among the Terveri: the main cult-centre was at Hochscheid, a spring sanctuary in the Moselle Basin, to which we shall return. But, elsewhere among the Treveri, Sirona was invoked at Nietaldorf, Bitburg and Sainte-Fontaine, and among the neighbouring Mediomatrici at Sablon, Metz. Sirona’s spring-cult is evidenced at Wiesbaden, Mainz and Luxeuil and even at Brigetio in Hungary, where, in the third century AD, a temple was set up to Apollo Grannus and Sarana. In the second century AD a temple was erected at Hochscheid, on the site of a spring whose waters supplied a cistern. The evidence of coins suggests that this building replaced an earlier shrine, perhaps of wood. Pilgrims offered presents of coins, figurines, etc. It seems to have been a wealthy shrine for so remote a region, perhaps a personal endowment by a prosperous trader or villa-owner who had occasion to be grateful to the guardians of the spring. 

The imagery here is interesting and Sirona’s is the more informative. There were large stone statues of Apollo and Sirona; he is entirely Classical, but Sirona is represented as a woman in a long robe and a diadem, a snake round her right forearm, and a bowl of three eggs held in her left hand. The serpent/egg symbolism is essentially regenerative as well as curative. The snake’s skin-sloughing habit gives it symbolism of rebirth and perhaps also the idea of sloughing off disease. Clay figurines brought to the shrine as gifts show Sirona seated, like a mother-goddess, with a small lapdog, which is perhaps indicative of healing. There is an Irish historical link between women and lapdogs which is suggested by Cormick as being possibly associated with the use of these animals as ‘hot-water bottles’ to comfort period pains. The imagery of the couple in bronze at Malain in Burgundy is essentially similar to that at Hochscheid: this group has a dedicatory inscription beneath the images. On other sites, the fertility aspect of Sirona’s cult is evidenced by the imagery; for example, at Sainte-Fontaine, where the goddess bears corn and fruit, and at Mainz and Baumburg where she is accompanied by ears of corn. This symbolism of the earth’s abundance bears out the association between healing springs and the mother-goddess cult. Sirona’s name is interesting: it is philologically related to ‘star’, so perhaps associated with night and darkness. There could be a link with the moon, the female menstrual cycle and the darkness of the womb.

Sirona and Apollo

Ancamna and Damona

These two continental goddesses are distinctive in their apparent polyandry, changing partners from site to site. Ancamna is known only from epigraphy. She was a Treveran deity, partner of Lenus Mars at Trier. But at Moehn, a rural sanctuary where Lenus was also venerated, Ancamna was coupled with Mars Smertrius, another native version of the Roman god. Is this the same deity with two names, or are they separate entities? Mars’s association with healing is common in the Celtic world, where his war role was transmuted into that of a guardian-protector against disease, as at Mavilly, where he appears (with a goddess) dressed as a warrior, but accompanied by a ram-horned snake, symbol of regeneration. Mavilly was particularly renowned for the cure of eye disease. Damona’s name means ‘divine cow’ or ‘great cow’, and this may reflect her role as a goddess of wealth and fertility. But first and foremost she was a healer, worshipped especially in Burgundy; she had a number of partners, but her main sanctuary was at Alesia, where she was coupled with Apollo Moritasgus. The two were venerated at a shrine with a pool in which sick pilgrims bathed in the hope of a cure. No image of Moritasgus survives but there is a fragment of Damona’s statue, showing a strong link between her iconography and that of Sirona: a carved stone head is crowned with corn-ears and a hand entwined with a serpent’s coils. At Bourbonne-Lancy, Damona’s consort was Borvo, another spring-god, and an inscription from the curative shrine relates to Damona’s association with the therapeutic sleep enjoyed by pilgrims seeking a healing dream or vision from the divine healers. The names of both Borvo and Moritasgus mean ‘bubbling’ or ‘seething’ water. 

At another Burgundian shrine, Arnay-le-Duc, Damona’s partner is yet another god, Abilus. Again a fragmentary image of the goddess represents her with a stone snake curled round a human arm. It is worth remembering that the Graeco-Roman healer-god, Asklepios, is often depicted with a coiled serpent. The polyandrous nature of Damona’s cult supports her status as an independent native divinity whose identity was not based on her association with any one god. Her rank is further enhanced by epigraphic evidence from the curative sanctuary of Bourbonne-les-Bains, where Damona was worshipped alone.

Ancamna and Mars Smertius

Other Gaulish Spring Goddesses

Many other spring-goddesses are recorded only on inscriptions, often again associated with male partners: Bormana and Bormanus were venerated in southern Gaul; Luxovius and Bricta at Luxeuil. Others were lone goddesses: Telo was the eponymous spring-spirit of Toulon in the Dordogne; Januaria at Beire-le-Châtel in Burgundy is mentioned on a statue of a figure playing pan-pipes. We have little clue as to Januaria’s precise function, though she was worshipped at a curative shrine. The musical instrument may indeed be a symbol of healing sleep, just as in vernacular myth healing deities such as Cliodna were associated with music—this time with singing birds. The name of the Treveran goddess Icovellauna may be linked with water-imagery: she was venerated at Trier and at the thermal springs of Sablon, Metz. Aveta was a spring goddess of the Treveri, to whom pilgrims at Trier offered small clay figurines of mother-goddesses with baskets of fruit, with dogs or with babies.

Sulis: Healer And Avenger

The site of Bath, Aquae Sulis, was sacred before the Roman period: this is implied by the presence of eighteen Celtic Iron Age coins from the lowest levels. Early in the Roman period—just fifteen years or so after the occupation—a great temple, baths and a huge religious precinct were constructed around the great spring, which pumps out hot water beside the River Avon at a rate of a quarter of a million gallons a day; a huge altar was set up in front of the temple, and a reservoir containing the main spring enclosed by a low stone wall. This was a great Neronian or Flavian building programme using Roman engineers.

There were major alterations c. AD 200, which argue for a new slant to the cult: the temple was enlarged but the reservoir, which had been visible all over the precinct, including the baths, was enclosed in a huge vaulted hall, restricting both physical and visual access to it, and making the water more remote and mysterious. Pilgrims could now only approach the spring through a dim passageway—does this imply Otherworld symbolism?

The goddess at Bath was Sulis, a native deity, but she was equated with Minerva, which seems a curious conflation. If Sulis really is a healer-goddess, as her presence at the hot spring implies, then she may be linked with Minerva because the latter was perceived as goddess of the craft of medicine. But in addition there is a philological link between the name Sulis and the sun—the sun and healing were closely linked in the Celtic world.  Indeed the solar association may have come about at least partly because Sulis’s springs were hot.

The cult of Sulis flourished until the mid-fourth century AD. The springs have genuine medicinal properties which are good for such ailments as arthritis and gout; this must have gained Sulis a reputation for being able to cure everything. There were many devotees who donated ivory and bronze model breasts, spindle-whorls and jewellery. But unlike—say—Sequana’s shrine, very few anatomical votives have been found. Pilgrims visited the shrine perhaps for a physical cure, or perhaps more often for spiritual refreshment. Immersion, purification, imbibing the water and thus the spirit of the goddess, the healing sleep, sacrifice, festivals and prayers all must have taken place here, as well as the offering of gifts. The spring appears to have been the focus of personal contact with the goddess, to whom prayers, vows, requests and thanks were made. Stone altars record gratitude for Sulis’s help. Money, rings, brooches and combs as well as other personal offerings were cast in, some by women, perhaps sometimes on impulse.

Ritual activity is represented at Bath: a priest of Sulis, Calpurnius Receptus, died here aged 75. A haruspex (literally ‘gut-gazer’) may have been present in a personal rather than an official capacity. Part of a head-dress was found, suggesting liturgical regalia. About 12,000 coins come from the reservoir.

This seems a large quantity but it works out as only an average of c. 24–48 coins a year. The presence of silver, pewter and bronze vessels could represent a ritual purpose (the drinking or pouring of the sacred water), but they could also have been offerings.

The question needs to be asked as to whether the assumption that Sulis is primarily a healer-goddess is valid. The only real evidence is her presence at the site of a major thermal spring. The third-century Roman writer Solinus refers to Bath having springs ‘furnished luxuriously for human use …over them Minerva presides’. There is no mention of healing. The inscriptions dedicating altars to the goddess do not specifically mention the curing of disease, whilst this does occur at Fontes Sequanae. Most importantly, there is a significant lack of anatomical votives, which are such clear indications of healing cults elsewhere. Certainly, I think, we have to reconsider Sulis’s role, even though the hot springs must have played a genuine part in the establishment of the cult.

Sulis / Minerva

The diversity of Sulis’s cult is nowhere shown more clearly than in the extraordinary group of 130 lead and pewter curses or defixiones from Bath found in the reservoir where they had been cast by vengeful devotees. This aspect of the goddess’s nature and powers is seemingly at variance with the role of benevolent healer. Sulis was clearly perceived as an avenger of wrongs. Water and curses have a well-established link; as late as the nineteenth century in Wales, a man was imprisoned for inscribing a curse on a lead sheet and throwing it into a well. In a sense the named or unnamed malefactor was being symbolically sacrificed to the goddess. The ‘fixing’ was an important element of the defixio, so that the curse would not rebound on the curser. The choice of lead or pewter is significant both practically and symbolically. The curses are very harsh, associated with fertility, sleep, blood and internal disorders.

So there is a strong link with disease in this negative aspect of Sulis’s cult: Docimedes has lost two gloves. He asks that the person who has stolen them should lose his mind and his eyes in the temple where she appoints. Docilianus, son of Brucerus to the most holy goddess Sulis. I curse him who has stolen my hooded cloak, whether man or woman, slave or free, that the goddess inflict death upon him, and not allow him sleep or children, now and in the future, until he has brought my hooded cloak to the temple of her divinity.

The cult of Sulis, whatever its precise nature, was popular and successful, attracting people over a wide area and over long periods of time—nearly four centuries. If we are right to interpret her cult as primarily that of a healer, then the reversal of benevolence and vengeance is interesting. What the goddess could give she could also take away, especially if the evil deed was perpetrated within her sacred space.

Healing And The Mother-Goddesses

The symbolism of the divine female healers has already demonstrated a close link between curing, fertility and regeneration. The mother-goddesses themselves, often in their distinctive triadic form, appear at thermal spring-sanctuaries, presumably as healers themselves. There is a natural link between the mother, childbirth and women’s health before, during and after pregnancy.

The Mothers were perceived as protectors and nourishers of children. Good examples of mother-goddesses at springshrines include those at Vertault and Bath. At Aix-les-Bains, pilgrims at the curative shrine worshipped the Matres Comedovae, the med element perhaps referring specifically to health. The Matres Griselicae were the eponymous healers at Greoulx, the Glanicae at Glanum, and the

Nemausicae at Nîmes, all in Provence. At Arrington in Cambridgeshire, a recent discovery consists of the burial of an infant who died of hydrocephalus: he was placed in a coffin on top of which was a group of clay figurines, including a mother-goddess of distinctively Rhenish type. Was she placed in his grave as a symbolic mother but also as a healer, so that he would be whole in his life in the Otherworld?

The association between mothers and healers is enhanced by certain aspects of their symbolism, notably the presence with them of such animals as dogs and snakes. Dogs were associated with self-healing, and there were sacred dogs at the great healing sanctuary of Asklepios at Epidaurus in Greece. In Britain, images of dogs were notable occurrences at the healing shrine of Nodens at Lydney. We have seen the association between dogs, Sirona and Aveta. Snakes were potent symbols of rebirth and fertility, again associated with healing.

-Conclusion

From our own experience in modern times we know that health figures prominently in, for example, governmental responsibility and spending. Health is a fundamental concern to humankind and must always have been so. In antiquity, many diseases that to us are commonplace and curable were neither understood nor capable of effective treatment. So the gods played a crucial role in the physical and spiritual well-being of the community.

In the Celtic world, we know of many great healing-cults which were more or less influenced by the imagery and belief-systems of the Classical world. But I think it fair to say that some of the most interesting cults were those centred upon the goddesses; Sulis, Sequana, Sirona and their sisters in healing all presided over important popular sanctuaries to which pilgrims were attracted from far afield, drawn by the successful reputations of the goddesses.

The links between healing and fertility are interesting, and these appear to be specific to the female healers. Perhaps more fascinating still is the reversal of beneficence and malignancy in Sulis’s cult, where curing and cursing were both under the goddess’s jurisdiction.

The healing deities may have played a large part in people’s lives not only because they attended to their physical well-being but also perhaps because they offered spiritual renewal. This is not usually evidenced archaeologically but it is more than likely that pilgrims prayed to these divinities for many and complex reasons other than those of pure health.

Perhaps the most fascinating aspect of the healing-goddess cult is the manner in which it has survived into modern Christianity all over Europe. There are numerous instances of shrines to the Virgin Mary as a healer to whom pilgrims have come in recent years as suppliants, bearing gifts identical to those found in such sanctuaries as Fontes Sequanae. I will give just one example, from Malta, where Melleiha Bay, a subterranean shrine to Mary, cut into the rock, is associated with a natural spring. The gifts which decorate the walls include wax or silver models of limbs, hearts or eyes, baby clothes, shoes, crutches, plaster-casts, X-rays, pictures of children, even crash-helmets: all offered to Mary in hope or thanksgiving. There is a legend that the statue of Mary was often moved to a more respectable place within the main church later built above the original shrine but that, during the night, she always moved back down the forty steps to her old position by the spring. The dedications have been taking place for more than two hundred years and probably much longer; the shrine itself is said to be eight hundred years old. The link between divine female presence, spring-water and healing, shown here, is indistinguishable from perceptions of pagan Celtic pilgrims in the early first millennium AD.

Miranda Green, The Concept Of The Goddess, Chapter Two.

Gaelic Folklore (34): Sanctuaries and Sacred Places

Sanctuaries and Sacred Places 

Drawing on iron age texts and a critical examination of archaeological data, it is possible to suggest some key features of the sacred spaces among the Celts.

Written Evidence

As the iron age Celts made limited use of writing, textual accounts of Celtic peoples derive almost entirely from Graeco-Roman sources. Those classical texts contemporary with the Iron Age are most relevant to a discussion of iron age sites, and the present account concentrates on these. As the product of an external, conquering society, classical commentaries are in many ways a problematic source of data on the Celts. But at the same time, such accounts are iron age artefacts, and when treated as such can yield much information.  Most classical accounts of Celtic sacred space date to the later Iron Age (i.e. La Tene D; C.120-0 Bc). Greek colonization in the western Mediterranean, under way by the sixth century Bc, and Celtic expansion into northern Italy from the fourth to second centuries Bc and Asia Minor from the third generated limited textual data on the Celts, but it was only from C.125-120 Bc, with Roman intervention in the Provincia, that significant quantities of data emerged on Celtic peoples and practices. The date of these texts ensures that the question of Graeco-Roman influence, both on Celtic practices and on their literary depiction, is ever-present in assessing the literary evidence. 

Underlying most iron age texts is thus a common theme: a sacred area comprising or including an enclosure. How such enclosures were realized is nowhere specified, but the concept of sacred enclosure is clear. Ironically, given their interest to the excavators of the weapon-rich sites discussed below, almost the only texts for which enclosure remains an uncertainty are Caesar's references to loci consecrati (sacred spots). Caesar uses the term for the druidic meeting-place among the Carnutes of Gaul and for heaps of battle spoil dedicated to 'Mercury'. In the latter case, Caesar simply says that booty was piled up in heaps; enclosure need not be implied. Elsewhere, Diodorus referred to booty being taken off the battlefield, without specifying its fate. Livy suggested spoils were heaped on the battlefield, apparently ruling out formal structure, but wrote with reference to the Celtic sack of Rome in 390 Bc. As Brunaux suggested, battlefield booty heaps may have been used in foreign territory, when spoils could not be moved to existing loci. Whatever the case, it is clear from Caesar's account that in later iron age Gaul booty heaps were conceptually bounded by their taboo status. The almost total absence of any detail on construction and use make it difficult to determine the nature of Celtic cult sites. But the formalized structuring of space, incorporating enclosing works, is suggested by most texts.

A 'Natural' Religion?

'Natural' loci such as woods, groves and trees are often advanced as Celtic cult loci par excellence. This concept of Celtic sacred space derives in part from classical texts, but references on this theme do not commence before the first century AD, when woodland sites are frequently associated with the druids. Iron age references to 'natural' loci are rare. In C.100 Bc Artemidorus commented on an open-air ritual at Cape St Vincent in western Spain, and Poseidonios on the use of lakes as sacred repositories in the Toulouse area of the Provincia. Strabo also stated that the Celtiberians worshipped a nameless god outside their houses.

Although only Artemidorus makes explicit reference to the absence of structures, all three texts may imply rituals without use of formal (roofed) structures, or otherwise involving the restructuring of space; for example by construction of an enclosure. There are no other iron age references to such 'natural' cult sites.

The first-century AD change in emphasis to woodland sites is ignored by archaeological commentators except Wait, although we can advance reasons for a change in practice at this point. Imperial proscription of the druids could have forced the use of secluded locales. Equally, as Chadwick noted, the textual association of druids and groves could be the result of a spurious etymology, voiced in Pliny's suggestion that 'druid' derives from the Greek word for oak.  It is not impossible that the association of groves with Celtic religion is a literary construct of the first century AD.

The concept of nature-based Celtic religion is also predicated on the apparent paucity of archaeological evidence for tectonic loci. As such sites would leave little archaeological trace, this proposition remains difficult to test, but it is important to note that the archaeological record is likely to be biased in favour of formal structures. Bearing this in mind, what evidence can be adduced for 'natural' loci?

Nemeton

Nemeton is a Celtic descriptor for sites of cult significance. Nemeton is attested mainly in post-conquest place-names and epigraphy, over a wide area. Place-names include Augustonemetum (Clermont-Ferrand) and Nemetodorum (Nanterre) in Gaul, Nemetobriga (near Ortense) in Spain, and Medionemeton (near the Antonine Wall) in Britain. Epigraphic attestations include Mars Rigonemetis from Britain (Nettleham) and Nemetona from Altripp (Spier). Nemeton is commonly glossed 'sacred, with little indication that it principally denoted such sites. It is suggested nemeton had several meanings, including grove or clearing and small shrine or chapel (d. the Irish nemed, glossed sacellum, suggestive of a small shrine). Formal structural associations are a possibility for some examples, as at Vaison-la-Romaine (Vaucluse, France), where an inscription records the dedication of a nemeton to Belissama. and the context suggests a structure or precinct. Nemeton thus remains enigmatic. The most acceptable gloss, MacCana's 'a sacred place', simply emphasizes how little we may infer from the term regarding the form of Celtic cult sites.

Trees and Groves

Groves continue to be advanced as Celtic cult sites, essentially by reference to nemeton attestations, and the first-century AD texts discussed above. Such sites would have little archaeological visibility, but some recent discoveries may suggest that representations of trees were employed in cult contexts. These are the finds of bronze leaves at the St-Maur sanctuary (Oise, France) and the remains of a golden tree from a pit at Manching (Bavaria). These finds are problematic; the Manching tree, which probably dates to the third century BC, and from which were suspended golden leaves and fruit, is apparently of Greek manufacture. The cult association of the find, which is not from one of the possible Manching cult foci, is also uncertain. Iron leaves, again designed for suspension, were found in a settlement context at Villeneuve-St-Germain (Aisne, France). The positioning and use of such finds within sanctuaries (where related to these) are as yet unknown.

Water

'Watery' loci such as a springs, lakes and bogs have traditionally been argued as important sacred spaces for Celts.

Springs

Springs are commonly seen as a focus for Celtic rituals. Textual evidence in this respect is very sparse. Hirtius' account of the diversion of a spring at Uxellodunum in 51 BC, and the subsequent surrender of the oppidum is a possible reference of iron age date, but a utilitarian function could well be implied for this spring. The one reference to springs in a clear iron age cult context is Lucan's overwrought account of a Lucus near Marseilles, written in the first century AD with reference to the Civil War.

Archaeological evidence for springs as pre-conquest cult foci is virtually non-existent. The argument for Celtic use of such loci is heavily dependent on the well-documented post-conquest use of springs for cult purposes. Finds of wooden statuary (a non-classical medium) at the Cote d'Or sites of Sources de la Seine and Elssarois and at Chamalieres (Puy-de-Dome), and elsewhere in France, have been argued to show a Celtic presence at springs, but can nowhere be dated before the first century AD. The recently excavated examples from Montlay-en-Auxois (Cote d'Or) were found in wooden catchment pools dated by dendrochronology to AD 86-119.

On the other hand, cult activity occurred from the early post-conquest period at many springs: Luxeuil and St-Marcel (Indre), Avord and Sagonne (Cher), Vichy (Allier), Chateauneuf-Ies-Bains (Puy-de-Dome), and Coren and Vic-sur-Cere (Cantal) have all produced early post-conquest coins or ceramics. There are two ways to consider this phenomenon: either by the retrospective inference that such sites are close enough in date to the Roman intervention to suggest they represent the survival of pre-conquest practices; or as a veritable post-conquest phenomenon. On present evidence, the balance is in favour of the latter.

Lakes

Poseidonios, who visited Mediterranean Gaul in C.IOO BC, refered to sacred lakes as repositories for treasures among the Tectosages of Toulouse. This passage is often cited as evidence for a widespread use of sacred lakes by Celtic peoples, but the text is clearly specific to the Tectosages. Archaeological evidence for lakes in cult contexts is, however, more widespread. The deposition of high-value metal in watery contexts, including lakes, is well attested archaeologically in Atlantic Europe. This practice increased during the Iron Age in Britain, though on the Continent it declined after the second century BC. Numerous lakes are interpreted as depositional cult foci, including Llyn Cerrig Bach (Anglesey) and Carlingwark (Scotland). A similar interpretation was originally advanced for the lake site at La Tene, (Neuchatel, Switzerland), where thousands of weapons and tools, and some jewellery and coins, were found.

Bogs

Bogs also served as foci for metalwork deposits. This practice was not restricted to Celtic peoples, and features for example in Germanic cult. The Gundestrup Cauldron, widely seen as the quintessential 'Celtic' cult artefact, was in fact found in a bog in Himmerland, Denmark.  Human remains are mainly known from Germanic contexts, but sometimes occur in Britain and Ireland. The Lindow bog body (Lindow Moss, Cheshire) is a recent example. Dating of the body is problematic, but radiocarbon dates from the most recent analysis cluster around the first century AD. Lindow man suffered a threefold death (by axe blows, garrotting and cutting of the throat). This triplication suggests a death with ritual links. Where datable, however, British bog bodies are mainly of bronze age or Roman date, and their ritual associations unclear. The extent to which such deposits represent an iron age ritual phenomenon is thus uncertain. 

There is some evidence that islands were favoured as cult sites by Atlantic Celtic peoples. Several texts may be noted in this context. Posidonius described a Gallic site on an island off the mouth of the Loire, served by female religious specialists. Tacitus, describing Suetonius' attack on Mona (Anglesey), associated the island with the druids and with women whom he compared to the Furies. After the conquest, Mela referred to virgin priestesses on the island of Sena (Brittany). Female religious specialists are linked to islands in all three passages. The implication is possibly of sexual boundedness. Islands are also physically bounded, relating them conceptually to other forms of enclosure noted here. In Britain, archaeological evidence for an island sanctuary occurs in the form of a wooden circular temple on Hayling Island.

A link theme in the above discussion is that of water as a boundary. Brunaux has suggested that lakes were natural sanctuaries, without enclosure or protection. This may not always have been the case, but water, or islands in water, clearly offer a ready-made form of enclosure. Both textual and archaeological evidence for iron age 'natural' foci is thus very restricted, the latter being largely limited to certain water categories. It is very likely that Celtic peoples did employ natural forces as cult foci, without restructuring their space. In the Graeco-Roman world, for example, such loci co-existed with formal, public, cult centres and the same is clearly probable for Celtic peoples. Indeed, it is possible to argue that our concept of Celtic religious life is distorted by the poor recognition of 'natural' cult loci by both classical commentators and archaeologists. In this context, the lack of textual data may reflect the fact that non-structural loci would not have been easily recognizable to external observers.

But at the same time, natural forces, including trees and springs, were familiar cult loci in the Graeco-Roman world.  It remains significant that almost all iron age textual references suggest, with varying degrees of certainty, that the designation of Celtic cult sites involved the restructuring of space. Equally, while the difficulties of archaeological recognition of 'natural' sites must be borne in mind when assessing their importance to the Celts, it is also reasonable to expect some positive archaeological evidence in their favour. In many of the cases examined above, this is clearly lacking.

Wells and Shafts

Wells and shafts have long been argued as Celtic cult sites. The British record has been comprehensively documented but evidence for iron age usage is extremely poor. Stronger evidence for ritual wells and shafts comes from the continent. Shafts have been recovered, for example, inside or under the banks of southern German Viereckschanzen. Bavarian examples occur at Holzhausen, Tomerdingen, Schonfeld and Kreutzpullach. Fellbach-Schmiden (Baden-Wiirttemberg) may also be noted in this context. At Holzhausen, three shafts up to 36.5 m deep were sunk in the Iron Age. The presence of organic material, burning within shafts, and the deliberate placement of a wooden stake and a flesh-hook in two shafts led the excavator to suggest these had been used for the disposal of sacrificial remains. At Fellbach-Schmiden fragments of three deer figurines were recovered from an oaklined shaft (by dendrochronology to 123 BC).

Beyond southern Germany, shafts with iron age fills are rare. Gallic examples are mainly restricted to the Provincia. The fills of some Toulouse shafts date to the first century BC (e.g. the ceramic-filled shaft from Vieille-Toulouse), but none securely predates the Roman intervention. Pre-conquest fills occur elsewhere in the Provincia, as at Nimes, but these shafts seem to have had utilitarian roles. Most Gallic examples postdate the Augustan era, as at Argentomagus  where shafts date to the first century AD and the first- to second-century AD examples at Chartres (Eure-etLoir) Given this dating, it is important to recall that the use of shafts for cult purposes was common in the Graeco-Roman world and it seems very possible that wells and shafts are essentially post-conquest cult loci.

Celto-Ligurian Sanctuaries

These well-documented stone-built structures of Provence include Entremont, Roquepertuse  and Glanum.

They comprise monumental propylaea, decorated with sculptured reliefs, frequently of the human head, and often associated with free-standing sculptures of cross-legged anthropomorphic figures. The dating of some examples is uncertain, but Entremont and Roquepertuse were probably destroyed during the Roman intervention in c. 125 Be. These sites provide much information on sanctuary structure, but they represent an exceptional, localized development, owing much to the long Greek contacts in the Bouches-du-Rhone area, and, with the exception of a dieu-accroupi from Argentomagus , do not appear to be replicated elsewhere in Celtic Europe.

Enclosures and their related structures

Until recently, it was thought that prior to the second century Be, iron age Celtic peoples rarely constructed special cult sites, and possible early sites like the early third-century Be rectilinear enclosure at Libenice (Prague) were considered exceptions to this rule. Excavation in the last decade, particularly in northern France, has changed this position somewhat (the sanctuary at Gournay-sur-Aronde (Oise), for example, has fourth-century Be origins), but it remains true that the majority of excavated cult sites employing enclosures do not predate 250 Be.

Viereckschanzen

This term was originally applied to a series of Bavarian rectilinear enclosures delimited by an earth bank and ditch, enclosing an area of approximately I ha.  Viereckschanzen were classified on morphological and typological criteria by Schwarz, who was influential in arguing for the cult function of such sites. In contrast to the 'Belgic' sanctuaries discussed below, the assemblages from excavated Viereckschanzen are generally very poor, and the cult function of most examples is uncertain. Sites across Celtic Europe, from Gosbecks in Britain to Msecke Zehrovice in Bohemia have been related to the Bavarian Viereckschanzen on morphological grounds. There has been a marked tendency to assume commonality of function across the series, and taking Holzhausen as an indicator, this role has often been argued to be a cult one. The recent doubts cast over Holzhausen are thus significant, not least because, despite numerous excavations, Holzhausen remains the sole site with a strong claim to a cult function. The excavators of Viereckschanzen-comparables in France, for example, have suggested utilitarian roles for enclosures at  and St-Arnoult. In addition, the perceived morphological and topographical similarities between the Bavarian sites and a set of proposed Viereckschanzen-comparables in the Limousin, France, have recently been shown to be statistically non-significant. It is likely that some sites now placed in the Viereckschanzen class served a cult function, but it seems clear that the category subsumes a variety of monument groups. Without independent excavation criteria, as yet lacking, unexcavated sites, and the majority of excavated examples, cannot be seen as cult loci.

Last decade, a series of excavations in the territory of the Bellovaci and Ambiani (Picardy, France) has substantially increased our knowledge of sanctuaries and attitudes to sacred space in Belgic Gaul. Sanctuary sites with features similar to those of Picardy occur beyond Belgic territory, but given the extent of excavation in Belgic Gaul, it is proposed to concentrate on that area here. Belgic sanctuaries include Gournay-sur-Aronde), Estrees-St-Denis, St-Maur  and Vendeuil-Caply  in Dept Oise; Ribemont-sur-Ancre, Morviller-St-Saturnin  and Chilly  in Dept Somme; and Mouzon  in Dept Ardennes. One of the best-understood sequences is that for the sanctuary at the centre of the oppidum of Gournay-sur-Aronde (Oise). The sanctuary site forms a rectilinear enclosure which in its first (fourth century Bc) phase measured 45 x 38 m and was defined by a ditch and low bank. In the late fourth to mid-third century Bc a palisade was added on the external edge of the ditch and in the late third to early second century Be a second ditch was added beyond the first. From its construction in the fourth century Be until C.30 Bc, the primary ditch was used to deposit over 2,000 broken weapons and 3,000 animal bones. At the center of the enclosure a group of pits was dug in the mid-third century Be. Nine roughly circular pits 1.2 m deep, surrounded a tenth, oval, pit in which cattle remains were allowed to decompose.

Around the end of the third century Be these pits served as foundations for a wooden building, replaced by two subsequent first-century Be structures. The latter, constructed c.30 Be, was of [anum form. Ditches serving as repositories for weapons, tools, and animal and human bone, associated with a central arrangement of pits which later saw structural formalization, occur at other Oise sites. These include St-Maur  and Vendeuil-Caply. At St-Maur, ritual activity commenced later than at Gournay, in c.250 Be. Many variations on the Gournay pattern are known, even within Belgic Gaul. At some sites assemblages are characterized less by weapons than by jewellery; examples here are Estn!es-St-Denis, Vendeuil-Caply and Morviller-St-Saturnin. Equally, certain sites, such as Estrees-St-Denis and Montmartin, are less clearly demarcated from their associated settlements than are others in the Belgic group.

A number of sites produce a high proportion of human bone. Among these is Ribemont-sur-Ancre (Somme), 50 km from Gournay. An iron age cult area was discovered here, near the principal temple of a vast Gallo-Roman cult complex. Over 200 long bones (mainly human, but also of horses) had been used to form a box-like construction, r.65 m sq, surrounding a post-hole filled with human ashes. Originally standing 1 m high, this ossuary was surrounded by iron weapons. A second ossuary has recently been excavated. Both examples stood in corners of a ditch-and-bank quadrangular enclosure, itself set in a vast enclosure over 200 m in length. Weapons and bones had been placed along the edges of the former. Two distinct dating episodes are noted at Ribemont: the construction of the ossuaries C200 Be, and a phase of deposition within the ditch, centred on the period of the Gallic War. The specific function of the site is unclear. The bone constructions could represent the massacre of prisoners, the remains of enemies killed in battle, or a collective sepulchre for the 'friendly' dead.

A second site yielding a high proportion of human remains is Mceuvres, Cambrais. Although Belgic sanctuaries thus exhibit considerable variety, two broad shared characteristics emerge: a rich assemblage of deposited material - weapons, often 'sacrificed' by deliberate damage, animal and human bones, and jewellery - and a palisaded/ditched enclosure. Many of the more fully excavated sites have also produced internal structures, but these generally postdate the enclosing works. This point is reconsidered below. Finally, whilst we know almost nothing of deity worship within these loci (or even whether this occurred), it is clear that deposition was a key ritual activity at such sites. These depositional acts were the culmination of a series of ritual processes, including the dismemberment and exposure of human and animal bone and the ritual sacrifice of weapons, well documented at Gournay-sur-Aronde (Brunaux and Rapin 1988) and Ribemont-sur- Ancre.

Throughout the Celtic world, there are very numerous occurrences of preconquest horizons at Roman period lana. The structural associations of these levels are unfortunately often uncertain, obliterated by the subsequent buildings, but frequently comprise pits or pit groupings, similar to those of the Belgic area. A recently excavated example occurs at Vertault (Cote d'Or). Enclosures with affinities to those of Picardy include Mirebeau-sur-Beze (Cote d'Or), Tronoen (Finistere) and Lousonna-Vidy (Switzerland). Weapons assemblages recently reinterpreted as deriving from cult loci include Nanteuil-sur-Aisne and Roizy (Ardennes) in the territory of the Gallic Remi. In Britain, numerous enclosed loci are proposed as iron age sanctuaries. Among these are a square palisaded enclosure surrounding a circular structure at Hayling Island, and a square, multi-ditched later iron age enclosure, overlain by a circular temple of the first century AD, at Gosbecks. Other examples are Uley, Lancing Ring  and Harlow.

The Importance of Enclosure

Enclosure was the primary and indispensable feature of Celtic cult sites. Some general points may be offered on enclosures in Celtic religious contexts. Enclosure is an act of boundary. Prior to the Late Iron Age, this boundedness was often underlined by the physical isolation of cult loci from settlement sites. The early La Tene quadrangular enclosure at the summit of the oppidum of Zavist (Bohemia) is one of earliest proposed cult sites to exhibit close settlement links. By the later Iron Age, many cult loci occur within settlement contexts. Others, like Ribemont, comprise rural loci which under the Roman hegemony develop into major cult complexes.

As the Belgic examples show, the early phases at most cult enclosures, delimited by a ditch and sometimes a palisade, had no accompanying internal structures. Crucially, in many cases, enclosure ditches were themselves a focus of ritual activity, serving as depositional zones. In the Celtic world, an enclosure ditch was often not simply a delimiter of sacred space; it was itself a primary focus of cult activity.

Weaponry, in particular, tends to be associated with ditches rather than with formal structures. The weapons assemblages of both Gournay and St-Maur were associated with the enclosure ditches; those of Ribemont with the ossuaries and the ditch edge, and during the first century BC weapons were also placed in the ditch. Formal structures occur at late stages in the history of these sites. Others may have had no structural phase at all, for example Mceuvres and possibly also the poorly documented closed deposits of weapons and horse gear such as the Masse at Tiefenau and Naillers.

Ditches, as depositional loci, were thus often intimately associated with cult activity. The relative chronology of enclosed cult loci merits stressing in this context. The perimeter - ditch and or palisade - tends to predate internal features. Later structures, often formalizing pit groups (as at Gournay and Vendeuil-Caply) tend to be square or rectangular in plan, culminating in square-plan that relates the form of internal structures to the plan of the enclosure itself, again emphasizing the pre-eminence of the enclosing works. Whether the development of formal structures is due to Mediterranean influence, as some commentators maintain is open to debate. But it is clear that an essential feature of many Celtic cult loci is the act of enclosure, less as sacred delimiter than as itself sacred space.

Space and Symbolism

Our understanding of the beliefs which structured the organization of sacred space among Celtic peoples is very uncertain. But the characteristics of cult sites allow us to see some underlying principles at work, if not the reasons for them. For example, many Celtic cult sites have east-facing entrances. This feature is by no means confined to sacred sites, but the frequent occurrence of easterly orientation suggests it was a symbolic referent informing spatial delimitation in many contexts. Posidonius, who says the Keltoi revere the gods by turning to the right, also recognized the symbolic importance of orientation, and may be describing a rite of circumambulation. In the first century AD Pliny noted Gallic circumambulation, apparently in the opposite direction. Similar rites have tentatively been evoked to explain the presence of an annular space, delimited by two palisades, at the St-Maur sanctuary. Other astronomical considerations may have influenced the structuring of space within enclosures. The internal structures at Libenice (Prague) were arranged with reference to the position of the sun and the solstices, and at Gournay (Oise) four posts at the centre of the enclosure marked the cardinal points.  Caesar's comment  on the druidic meeting-place at the center of Gaul may suggest the symbolic importance of centrality to Celtic peoples. This may also be reflected in the widespread occurrence of the element medio- (center, middle) in Celtic place-names . The British Medionemeton  is particularly relevant in this context. It is less clear whether this concept informed the structuring of sacred spaces on a microcosmic level, although Brunaux comments that most temples are placed at the centre of enclosures. Brunaux has also argued for a geography in which every natural phenomenon was deemed sacred by the Celts. At present, however, ideas on Celtic sacred geography remain speculative, articulated mainly by appeals to the medieval literature.

(The Celtic World, 1995, Jane Webster)