Tuesday, August 27, 2024

Apollo Lord of Hounds

Near the wonderfully named village of Nettleton Shrub in Wiltshire, England, sit the remains of a Romano-British temple. This is actually a rarer sort of thing than you might imagine; only 150 temples are known from all of Roman Britain, when medieval England and Wales had about 10,000 parish churches. Like most such constructions it had a small temple building holding the cella, or sacred sanctuary, surrounded by a bank and ditch. The Fosse Way, one of Roman Britain's most important roads, ran through the enclosure. The temple seems to have been built where the road crossed a pleasant stream.

This category of temple is known to archaeologists as a "Temple of Local Pilgrimage." That's because the main thing we find at them is offerings made by people who travelled there for some specific religious purpose. Sometimes they were offering thanks, and sometimes they were asking the god to smite somebody.

This temple seems to have been dedicated to a deity known as Apollo Cunomaglus, who is named on this altar and on other artifacts from the site. That would mean something like "Apollo Lord of Dogs," although Ronald Hutton renders it "Apollo Dog Lover."

There is also a faction that insists on translating the name as "Apollo Lord of Wolves" and tying the site to an (imagined) ancient Celtic wolf cult. Given that the people of Roman Britain raised a lot of sheep I doubt they venerated wolves, so I am going with the dog people on this one. But even if we settle on dogs we still have not ended the argument, because one faction of dog people says this means dogs as the best friends of men and sheep and another faction wants to talk about dogs as guardians of the underworld. 

The most famous artifact from the site is a curse tablet that says

I give to the god Maglus him who did wrong from the slave-quarters; I give him who (did) theft from the slave-quarters; who stole the cloak of Servandus. . . . I give (that the god Maglus) before the ninth day take away him who stole the cloak of Servandus.

The inscription includes a list of twenty possibly culprits, one of which was later crossed out, so the god had a little help here.

Given that the temple straddled a much-used road, some historians think it likely served as a sort of inn, offering accommodations and food to travelers in exchange for "offerings." But there isn't any physical evidence of this, beyond the location.

Here is a quick history of the site from the National Heritage List:

The temple itself was situated on the south bank of the Broadmead Brook. In its first phase, built soon after AD 69, it comprised a simple circular shrine. In about AD 230 the shrine was surrounded by an octagonal podium and precinct wall with a gatehouse but 20 years later the whole structure was burnt. It was replaced with an octagonal temple incorporating the remains of the podium. The new temple was more elaborate and comprised an inner chamber or cella surrounded by eight chambers and enclosed by a covered walkway. This coincides with the most prolific building period within the complex and reflects a growing interest in the temple. 

Here is a nice little artifact from the temple's glory days.

But eventually the empire ran down and the legions left and everything went to hell:

By the early fourth century the temple had fallen into a state of disrepair and was adapted and repaired. Alternate chambers were blocked and the plan of the building took on a cruciform aspect, possibly reflecting the conversion of Rome to Christianity. At a slightly later date, the building was once again used for pagan worship. A makeshift altar was constructed of reused columns. After AD 370 a build up of straw, manure, animal bones and household rubbish imply that the building was being used as a homestead or animal byre. Disarticulated human bones at the top of the sequence displayed cut marks particularly to the neck, implying a massacre at the hands of raiders.

And so it passed into history, until archaeologists showed up to poke around its ruins and bring its story back into the world. 

2 comments:

  1. This is actually a rarer sort of thing than you might imagine; only 150 temples are known from all of Roman Britain, when medieval England and Wales had about 10,000 parish churches

    Well, the Roman religion was practiced by the Roman occupiers, who we know were relatively few in number, and who mixed virtually not-at-all with the locals, either genetically or culturally. The locals had entirely different beliefs, and worshiped in entirely different ways that didn't really involve the construction of permanent structures of the sort that would last to the modern day (aside from henges, etc).

    On top of that, I have to wonder how many medieval churches were built on the sites of former temples (or other sites of worship), further reducing the number of known temples from Roman Britain.

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  2. Victorian archaeologists were all over the "temples under churches" thing and dug up tons of church floors but the only Roman temples they found were in cities.

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