Such a rite may very well be indicated by the following sentence of Varro[[723]]—the only one which gives us any solid information on the question: Aliquot huius diei vestigia fugae in sacris apparent, de quibus rebus antiquitatum libri plura referunt. It seems not unreasonable to guess that the rite was one of those in which the priest, or in this case, as it would seem, the people also, fled from the spot after the sacrifice had been concluded. As the slayer of the ox at the Athenian Bouphonia (which curiously enough took place just at this same time of year) fled as one guilty of blood, so it may possibly have been that priest and people at Rome fled after some similar sacrifice, and for the same reason[[724]]. Or it may have been that they fled from the victim as a scapegoat which was destined to carry away from the city some pollution or pestilence. It is interesting to find at Iguvium in Umbria some ‘vestigia fugae,’ not of the people, indeed, but of victims, at a lustratio populi which seems to have had some object of this kind[[725]]. Heifers were put to flight, then caught and killed, apparently in order to carry off evils from the city[[726]], as well as to represent and secure the defeat of its enemies. Such performances seem especially apt to occur at sickly seasons[[727]]; and as the unhealthy season began at Rome in July[[728]], it is just possible that the Poplifugia was a ceremony of this class.
Non. Quinct. (July 7). N.
This day does not appear as a festival in the old calendars; but the late one of Silvius[[729]] notes it as Ancillarum Feriae, or Feast of Handmaids, and adds the explanatory story which is found also in Plutarch and Macrobius[[730]]. The victorious Fidenates having demanded the surrender of the wives of the Romans, the latter made over to them their ancillae, dressed in their mistresses’ robes, by the advice of a certain Philotis, or Tutula[[731]], one of the handmaids. Ausonius alludes to the custom that gave rise to the story:
Festa Caprotinis memorabo celebria Nonis
Cum stola matronis dempta teget famulas[[732]].
Plutarch also tells us that on this day the ancillae not only wore the matron’s dress, but had license for what may be described as a game of romps; they beat each other, threw stones at each other, and scoffed at the passers by[[733]].
This last point supplies us with a possible clue both to the origin of the custom and the explanatory legend. One of the most frequent customs at harvest-time used to be, and still is in some places, for the harvesters to mock at, and even to use roughly, any stranger who appears on the field; frequently he is tied up with straw, even by the women binding the sheaves, and only released on promise of money, brandy, &c.; or he is ducked in water, or half-buried, or in pretence beheaded[[734]]. The stranger in such cases is explained as representing the spirit of the corn; the examples collected by Mannhardt and Mr. Frazer seem fairly conclusive on this point[[735]]. The wearing of the matron’s dress also seems to be a combination of the familiar practices of the winter Saturnalia with harvest customs, which in various forms is by no means uncommon[[736]], though I have not found a case of exchange of dress after harvest.
Thus it would seem possible that we have here a relic of Italian harvest-custom; and this is confirmed by the statement of Tertullian that there was on this day a sacrifice to the harvest-god Consus[[737]], at his underground altar in the Circus Maximus, of which we shall have more to say under Aug. 21 (Consualia). It is worth noting here that just as the legend of the Rape of the Sabines was connected with the Consualia[[738]], so the analogous story of the demand of the Fidenates for Roman women is associated with the Ancillarum Feriae, and the day of the sacrifice to Consus. This not only serves to connect together the two days of Consus-worship, but suggests that harvest was a favourable opportunity for the practice of capturing wives in primitive Italy, when the women were out in the fields, and might be carried off by a sudden incursion.
This day was also known as Nonae Caprotinae, because the women, presumably those who had been helping at the harvest, both bond and free[[739]], sacrificed to Juno Caprotina under a wild fig-tree (caprificus) in the Campus Martius[[740]]. Juno Caprotina was a Latin goddess, of great renown at Falerii[[741]], where the goat from which she took her name appears in the legend of her cult. The character of Juno as the representative of the female principle of human life[[742]] suits well enough with the prominence of women both in the customs and legends connected with the day; and the fig-tree with its milky juice, which was used, according to Macrobius, in the sacrifice to Juno instead of milk, has also its significance[[743]]. Varro adds that a rod (virga) was also cut from this tree[[744]], without telling us for what purpose it was used; and it has been ingeniously conjectured that it was with this that the handmaids beat each other as Plutarch describes, to produce fertility, just as at the Lupercalia the women were beaten with strips cut from the skins of the victims (amiculum Junonis). But this is mere conjecture, and Varro’s statement is too indefinite to be pressed[[745]].