Here begins Margarete Riemschneider’s journey in search of traces of symbols, documents, and reminiscences in the complex and arcane world of ancient ritual games. One wonders why this book, in some ways unique in this field of research, has been contemptuously omitted from the list of her official publications. My translation from the Italian edition of Riti e Giochi nel Mondo Antico.
Margarete Riemschneider (1899-1985) was an art critic, museum director, traveler, and, ultimately, an almost visionary scholar. She let herself be guided by an independence of thought very rare to find in an art expert. Her inspired essay on the enigmatic sacred games starts by reporting the entire dialogue between a priest and Saturn/Kronos in Lucianus’ Saturnalia. I will omit the extensive bibliographic information about Lucianus Samosatensis (120-180/192 A.D ) with which the author lays the first stone of her book. Lucianus writes the Saturnalia at least two centuries before the much better-known Macrobius’ Saturnalia. While the latter is a compendium of erudition among the last pagans of Rome in the fourth century, Lucianus’ book is instead a disenchanted visitation of the Roman festivities seen by an inhabitant of Syria, stunned by Roman customs. Indeed he was known as an ironic and playful writer, a comic we would say today. Nevertheless, on the reasons that prompted Riemschneider to publish the part entirely, she says: “I believe that only the whole can indicate the effective weight of the contradictions so elegantly. Simple passages could instead appear fortuitous.”
Why is Kronos so important? I must have already said it in the presentation of the dedicated section: because the pawns move on the body of Kronos/Saturn.
First Chapter: Dialogue between a priest and Kronos
Priest: You, O Kronos, currently appear to reign again, and indeed we have offered you burnt offerings and sacrifices. So tell me, what will I ever propose as my part?
Kronos: It’s your business to think about what you think is desirable. You won’t believe a ruler must also be a fortune teller and know what you like. I will try, as far as possible, to refuse none of your instances.
Priest: But I’ve already been thinking about this for some time. I desire only the usual and the old: wealth, lots of gold, being a landowner and owning many slaves, soft and gorgeous clothes, silver, ivory, and all the other things that are usually valued. Excellent Kronos, grant me all this so that I may enjoy your reign without being deprived of such things I alone, for all my life.
Kronos: But try to understand: you can’t expect that I do this. I cannot dispense like that goods. Don’t take offense if you don’t get any of this. Claim it from Zeus, when he will soon be due to new power. I only take it for a while, that is, only for seven days: past this time, I will go back to being a private individual, nothing more than one of many. And in these seven days, I am not allowed to do anything severe or sensational, nothing that does not be drinking, getting drunk, playing games and noise, playing the dice, electing party kings, serving slaves, singing naked or hopping around, and maybe even being thrown in the cold water upside down, with the forehead painted with soot. All this I can do freely. But those great things, such as wealth and gold, are granted only by Zeus at his discretion.
Priest: But even from him, or Kronos, nothing comes easily or willingly. Anyway, I’m tired of begging him in a loud voice; either not listening at all or shaking the aegis and striking the lightning, frightening, with his angry expression, how many annoy him. And if then once he fulfills someone and makes him prosperous, he does it entirely arbitrarily. He neglects deserving and wise people, instead covering with riches wicked and foolish people, and above all, all slackers and wimps. At any rate, I would know what you can do.
Kronos: All in all, not so little if you think about it to the narrow limits of my power. Or it seems minor to you to win at dice and almost always roll a six while others do one? Many, indeed, to whom a good shot has led luck, made a fortune out of it; others, instead, which the boat crashed against the small rock made up of the nut, they barely saved their lives. But drink heartily and be considered the best singer of the banquet and have all those thrown into the water served at the table – this indeed is the punishment for a clumsy service – while you are proclaimed the winner and get the sausage as a prize. Do not consider this a magnificent advantage? And if, on top of that, you become king, you are alone among all, and therefore you can never receive ridiculous orders, while you can force one to say something infamous about himself and the others to dance naked and to carry the flute dance on your back three times around the whole house. Don’t believe these are examples of the great gifts I can bestow? But if you thought that all of this does not constitute lasting royal dignity, you would be ungrateful. You see, I only hold power for a very long time, brief. Feel free to ask with confidence whatever I’m into condition to grant with luck in the game, the dominion I sing, and all I have listed. I will never oppose either with an aegis or with lightning.
Priest: O best of Titans, but I do not need any of these things. But if you answered everything I want to know most urgently, and if I explained it, I would consider myself sufficiently rewarded for the sacrifices. I would give up asking you for anything else in the future.
Kronos: Ask, and if I can answer, I will.
Priest: First of all, I would like to know if it is true what I’ve heard about you: namely that you would have devoured all your children born of Rhea; and that this, for save Zeus, she would have given you a stone to swallow at child’s place; and that Zeus, having become an adult, he would have waged war and deposed from the throne, falling finally, in chains in Tartarus, you and all that follow you he had huddled around.
Kronos: If there weren’t a feast during which it is permissible to get drunk and freely scoff at powerful, I would show you, my dear, that I can still make my blood boil if you ask such questions.
Priest: But it is not me who says such things, Kronos, but rather Hesiod and Homer. Indeed I’m even afraid to say that almost all human beings think about you.
Kronos: But do you believe that the shepherd [Hesiod], that tattler, he knows the truth about me? Think for a moment: could exist any human being – not to say any divinity – that may devour his children, unless it is a Thyest, forced upon you by your brother cruel? And even if it could happen, how can he think that a stone can be mistaken for a child unless he has teeth completely devoid of sensitivity? We have not made war, and Zeus did not take my power by force: I gave it to him e spontaneously delivered it. But you can see that I am neither in chains nor Tartarus unless you’re blind like Homer.
Priest: But you, Kronos, why did you renounce your power?
Kronos: I’ll try to explain it to you. Because I am already very old and as time passed, I was struck by podagra, which is probably why people think I’m in chains. The Great Evil of current human beings has become unbearable to me. I had to constantly run from side to side and throw the lightning, only to burn perjurers, thieves, sacrilegious or murderous. This activity was very nerve-wracking and perhaps more suitable for a young man. So I did well to make my way to Zeus.
Priest: I, Kronos, believed that your philanthropy towards slaves and captives ensued from that myth that you honor those who suffer your pains, and you are always mindful of chains because you, too, are enslaved like them.
Kronos: Will you stop this silly chatter?
Priest: You’re right. Now I’ll stop it. But first, I must ask if the board game was already used among men during your reign.
Kronos: Sure! It wasn’t played for money, as you do, but at most for nuts. To avoid that, the loser grieved and cried over having to go hungry alone.
Priest: In this, they acted sensibly. After all, what should they have played for on earth, being themselves golden? While you were talking, I was thinking: if one of those men entirely of pure gold presented himself today, how would it end? I believe that they would tear him apart, just as the Bacchae pounced on Pentheus, the Thracians on Orpheus, and like the dogs on Actaeon, only for the most significant chunk, even in a fight each other. Indeed, these people cannot take a feast without thinking about their profit, and they play to get rich. The ones don’t go home before having robbed their friends during the banquet; the others curse and smash the dice almost as if they were responsible for what they did by their own choice. But tell one more thing: how come you, who are such a sickly divinity, and old, have chosen for your festivity just the most inclement season, when the snow covers everything, and only the north wind blows, when there is nothing that is not stiffened by the cold, and the trees are bare, unadorned and without leaves, the sparse meadow are empty, and men, bent over like gray-haired old men, huddle around the fireplace? It’s certainly not a suitable period for the aged, not even the soft.
Kronos: You ask many questions, my dear, while it would be much better if you drank. During my feast, there is no need to philosophize about these things. If you finally decide to end it all, we can indulge in joy and noise and behave as free men; then play for nuts, as is the tradition, install kings, and obey their rules. Thus we put into practice the proverb according to which old people become children again.
Priest: May the thirsty never drink if he is not pleased with what you say, o Kronos. So let’s party. You have fully answered my questions first. I wish to transcribe this conversation into a booklet, reporting everything I asked you e to which you have answered so graciously. Then I want to make it available to my friends, at least to those worthy of hearing your opinion.
In reading this tasty dialogue, so permeated by comedy, our interest is attracted by five distinct elements: the surprising weight attributed to gambling; the age of gold; the episode of the swallowing of the stone; the enchainment of the god; the figure that somehow constitutes the point of departure and the cornerstone of the whole, that is, the one who assumes the royal function temporarily.
Lucianus takes these particular aspects from the Saturn-Kronos figure tradition, and he inserts them into the dialogue, not without but finding them at least strange and surprising. We propose to examine them individually by referring to the comparative history of religions and, to our knowledge, to identify, with the greatest possible precision, ties and connections, that Lucianus needed to be in a position to grasp.
Next Chapter: Rites and Games in the Ancient World: 2 Game and Worship