Themis, a study of the social origins of Greek ... - Warburg Institute

iv] Picus and Faunas 105
knows, is also a spotted pie, a woodpecker. Vergil is past-master
in the art of gliding over these preposterous orthodoxies. He
sails serenely on through the story's absurd sequel, the love of
Circe, her potions, the metamorphosis 1 of the tamer of horses into
a spotted pie,
Picus equum domitor, quem capta cupidine conjunx
Aurea percussum virga, versumque venenis
Fecit avem Circe, sparsitque coloribus alas,
and in the solemn splendour of the verbiage one forgets how
childish is the content.
Picus holds the lituus, the augur's curved staff; he is girt with
the short trabea, the augur's robe of purple and scarlet, and he
carries on his left arm the ancile, the sacred shield borne by the
Salii. He is a bird, an augur and a king. In Vergil, spite of
the inevitable bird-end and the augur's dress, Picus is more king
than bird or even augur ; he remains remote and splendid. Ovid
however tells us more of what manner of king he was, and the
revelation is a strauge one. In the third book of the Fasti 2 he
tells us an odd story about Picus, and tells it with his usual output
of detailed trivialities, significant and insignificant, which must
here be briefly resumed.
Numa, Numa Pompilius be it noted (to the importance of
the name we shall return later), with the help of Egeria has
been carrying out his admirable religious reforms. In the grove
of Aricia, he has been teaching his people the fear of the gods,
and the rites of sacrifice and libation, and in general he has
been softening their rude manners. In the midst of all this
very satisfactory piety down came a fearful thunderstorm, the
lightning flashed, the rain fell in torrents, fear took possession
of the hearts of the multitude. Numa consulted Egeria. She
was no good on her own account, she could not stop the storm,
but being a wood nymph, and of the old order of things, she knew
1 The story of how Picus spurned the love of Circe and was turned into a
woodpecker is told with his customary detail by Ovid, Met. xiv. 6.
2 vv. 285—348. The story forms part of the whole account of the ceremonies of
the Salii in March and especially of the origin of the ancilia, the original of which,
worn by Picus on his left arm, had descended from the sky at sunrise in a thunderstorm.
The ancilia will be discussed later, p. 196.