Christianity, until the fourth century, was essentially just another eastern mystery cult, although with certain key differences. It was inclusive in the sense that anyone could join, but exclusive in that true disciples accepted the Christian god and no other. This latter requirement flew in the face of traditional Roman and Celtic attitudes, and in fact was ignored by some who happily added Christ to their personal list of favoured deities. The most important evidence for the existence of Christianity in Britain is not archaeological, but literary. The presence of British bishops at fourth-century church councils shows that an Episcopal hierarchy had been created by at least 314. The popularity of the Pelagian heresy in 429 and the pleas for help from the church in Gaul demonstrate that the hierarchy was functioning, and that it was still in contact with the Continent.
The physical evidence for British Christianity is significant, but often ambivalent. The most definitive group of Christian artifacts is the third - or fourth-century Water Newton treasure, which was found in isolation and nowhere near any sort of structure that might, however tenuously, have been interpreted as a church. While many of the items carry unequivocal Christian symbols and wording, some of them are votive plaques of a type known from pagan cult sites. Such plaques were usually nailed by pilgrims to walls in temple precincts, and represented the fulfilment of a pagan vow. The Water Newton pieces seem to represent the transfer of that process to a Christian context, but exactly how or why is not clear. They could, for example, represent a Christian cell whose members were reluctant to abandon their old ways of worshipping, or a cult for whom Christ had been adopted as an associate deity with pagan gods already being worshipped there.
In any case it was the enduring pagan habit of votive goods that makes Water Newton such a visible record of Christianity, and therefore so typical of pagan Roman culture in any archaeological context. Christianity is relatively invisible in the record. Christian graves are ‘defined’ by an absence of grave goods and by the east-west orientation of the body. The lead baptismal fonts, of which several are known, are the only really conspicuous traces of Christian rites, and were probably used for bulk baptisms by travelling priests. Pewter found at the Appleshaw (Hampshire) villa, marked with the Chi-Rho, could conceivably have been used in a house-church. The word-square found on a fragment of wall-plaster at Cirencester can be unravelled to reveal Christian slogans. Word games like this were undoubtedly popular, but it is impossible to know what their significance was.
The figure depicted in this mosaic panel is apparently Christ, although it is also possible that it represents the rebel emperor, Magnentius (350-53). Magnentius appeared bareheaded on his coins, and the reverses of one issue included a large Chi-Rho (see [69]). Mid - to late fourth century. (British Museum).
This restored wall-painting from the villa’s ‘house-church’ shows a number of figures with their hands raised in the conventional manner of Christian prayer in the Roman period. Late fourth century. (British Museum).
The very small number of buildings identified as possible churches due to
Their shape and location have produced absolutely nothing that would confirm their function. The Colchester extra-mural ‘church’ can be tentatively identified as such only because it is surrounded by east-west graves. The Silchester ‘church’ has much to recommend it structurally as a church, except that its orientation is reversed from what subsequently became normal for churches. Only some innovative reinterpretation of the excavated evidence has shown that the building was probably bigger than originally thought and enclosed a baptismal font. At Richborough, the church within the fort walls was built of timber and escaped the notice of the excavators. Only the identification of a font beside some postholes has shown that a church probably stood there. More recently, probable churches have been identified at Vindolanda and Housesteads, based purely on suggestive structural traces. The single exception to these is the house-church at the Lullingstone villa. In the late fourth century, a self-contained suite of upper rooms at the villa’s eastern end was decorated with wall-paintings that include the Chi-Rho and praying figures [223]. There can be no real doubt about what the rooms were used for, but this conclusion could only be reached because the shattered wall-plaster was laboriously recovered and restored. At the time, Christian worship was frequently conducted in private homes, making it even less likely that we would find archaeological evidence of it. The mosaics at Frampton and Hinton St Mary [222] both bear Christian symbols, the latter including possibly the earliest representation of Christ. Both also have a number of pagan mythical elements, which were habitually used by Christians (and pagans) as allegorical symbols. The Lullingstone mosaic, for instance, depicts among other motifs Bellerophon killing the Chimaera. Christians used this event as a symbolic representation of the triumph of good over evil. With the evidence for a house-church on site, a good case can be made for the mosaic having been installed for its Christian symbolism. But without the wall-painting, the evidence would be a good deal more ambiguous.
THE DRUIDS
One of Caesar’s most important observations was about the Druids. Since they have no recognizable manifestation in archaeology and are silent in the written record, the Druids exemplify the problems inherent in interpreting cult activity from archaeology. We are left only with Caesar’s account and a few other references.3 Caesar described the Druids as a special caste that had total control over all religious activity and justice, and were exempt from taxes and warfare, and the petty inconveniences of tribal boundaries. The Romans recognized the Druids as a major political and territorial threat to their consolidation of power in Britain, and believed them to be the driving force behind organized resistance. In this sense, the Druids were as inconvenient as the church was to medieval monarchs. Human sacrifice also revolted the Romans, and Caesar and Strabo, among others, made the most of the Druids as symbols of the ultimate barbarian nightmare. They seem to have been annihilated by the campaign against Anglesey, and it is not impossible that some of the Britons welcomed this outcome. After their disappearance, religion in Britain appears to have taken on a largely Roman flavour. As ever, this is an impression created by the high visibility of ‘Roman’-type activity, as it is in every other aspect of Romano-British history and society.
THE GODS OF ROMAN BRITAIN
In the pagan pantheon, anything could be venerated in divine form. At its most extreme, this included deities attributed to the various components of a door, but in general places, regions, plants, buildings, springs and trees could all be regarded as the home of a spirit, whose good auspices needed to be sought and whose wrath needed to be placated. This concept was as familiar to the Britons before the conquest as it was to the Romans.
Purely classical gods were rare in Britain. Usually when such gods do appear, it is in an early or politicized context. Chichester, in the Atrebatic enclave and probably the tribal capital of Togidubnus, has produced several inscriptions from very early in the province’s history, including the dedication of a temple to Neptune and Minerva. Another slab is early in style, and names Jupiter Optimus Maximus, the most politicized of all the Roman gods.4 Honouring the head of the Roman pantheon was as much a political as a religious gesture. This was a ritual part of reinforcing loyalty to the state, something any pro-Roman tribal leadership was very well aware of.
Dedications to Jupiter are among the most numerous of all religious offerings in Britain because the annual religious calendar demanded that he be honoured on the day the current emperor came to power, as well as on 3 January. Most dedications are from the military zone, usually offered by the commanding officer in the name of the unit. A series of altars at Maryport may be from a temple to Jupiter outside the fort, or may represent annual revisions of the unit’s loyalty. Another series is known from Birdoswald, almost always in the name of the First Aelian Cohort of Dacians, the longterm resident garrison. The calendar of festivals was rigorously observed in forts across the Roman world, and the events that took place at Maryport would have been mirrored at every other military establishment. Jupiter was often worshipped in tandem with the imperial numen, or ‘spirit of the emperor. Interestingly, although almost all inscriptions come from the military zone, two were found on a temple site at Greenwich and a dedication to Mars Camulos was recently discovered at Southwark. Both inscriptions appear also to be to the imperial spirits, reflecting the nature of the provincial capital.5
Although London probably had a temple to Jupiter, the closest we get to the classical pantheon in epigraphic form there is the dedication to Mars Camulos. The temple precinct at Southwark, where at least two Romano-Celtic temples were built, was probably laid out in the late first or early second century. Evidence for a variety of statue and column bases around the temples suggests an array of sculptural dedications, perhaps to other deities as well. The habit of conflating classical gods with Celtic equivalents venerated long before the conquest is particularly characteristic of Roman religion in Britain, and reflected a pattern found throughout the Empire. The temple of Sulis-Minerva at Bath is the best-known classical temple in Britain, and the gilt bronze bust of Minerva [224] is one of the most overtly classical pieces of British religious sculpture. The Roman epigraphic record of these conflated cults is very often the only reason we know anything about them.
A gilt-bronze head of Minerva, probably once part of a life-sized cult statue in the temple of Sulis - Minerva. Late first century. (Museum of Bath).
Roman culture resulted in cults becoming more visible because the physical representations of these gods were named on accompanying inscriptions. The Fossdyke Mars (see [159]), found to the west of Lincoln, was manufactured for a pair of brothers, Bruccius and Caratius Colasunus.6 To the east of Lincoln, an inscription from Nettleham records the donation of an arch by Quintus Neratius Proxsimus to Mars Rigonometos. Rigonometos can be translated from its Celtic roots, producing ‘king of the grove’, suggesting that the arch records a much older sacred plot of woodland with which Mars had now been associated. Mars was one of the classical gods most frequently connected with cults in the northwest provinces. He was associated with Lenus in the healing shrine in the Altbachtal precinct at Trier, and turns up in this guise at Chedworth and Caerwent. These healing properties made him ideal for conflation with Nodons (or Nodens) at Lydney Park (Gloucestershire), where the pilgrims
Not only had their dreams read, but, judging by the finds of bronze dogs (associated with healing as far as back as Ancient Greece), also came for medical reasons. There was therefore, not surprisingly, a temple to Mars himself at the healing spa of Bath. It was recorded on one of the curse tablets, but has not yet been found.
Mars was more usually associated with local hunter or warrior gods. At Barkway (Hertfordshire) there was a shrine where Mars was worshipped as Mars Alator and Mars Toutatis.7 ‘Alator’ is believed to mean ‘huntsman’, and Toutatis was a Gaulish god to whom human sacrifices were offered, described by the Roman poet Lucan as ‘dreadful Tuetates. 8 In the north, Mars was often combined with the Celtic warrior god, Cocidius, usually depicted in a similar manner to Mars in military costume with spear and shield. The same pattern is found for many of the other classical deities, but there was nothing rigid about the combinations of gods. Cocidius, for example, was also conflated with the Italian woodland god, Silvanus, at Housesteads, but at Colchester, a coppersmith dedicated an offering to Silvanus Calliriodaco.9
Without the known attributes of the classical god involved, it would often be hard to have any idea of the Celtic deity’s nature. Mercury Andescociuoucus is only recorded once, on a marble slab at Colchester. 10 ‘Andescociuoucus’ is thought to mean ‘great activator’, which perhaps has something to do with Mercury’s role as the ambassador of the Roman pantheon. At Nettleton (Wiltshire), Apollo was worshipped with Cunomaglos, a name that probably meant ‘hound prince. 11 This is not as incongruous as it sounds. Conflation of deities was founded as much on complementary qualities as on those that were similar. Apollo Cunomaglos, like so many of these classical-Celtic conflations, is an example of the infinite flexibility inherent in paganism.
Sometimes the Celtic deity was venerated in his or her own right, but the manner of worship had been adapted into a characteristically Roman one. Coventina was interpreted by her Roman admirers as a water nymph, and depicted as such on a relief dedicated by the prefect of the First Cohort of Batavians, at Carrawburgh. Two of the inscriptions from the spring name her as ‘Nympha Coventina.12 Antenociticus, also known as Anociticus, was worshipped in a small temple just outside the fort at Benwell, further east along the Wall. The head of the cult statue was found in the temple, and represented a young male with horns in his hair, possibly linking him to Cernunnos, a god with a stag’s head. The cults of these Celtic deities are
Only visible to us through Roman media, and we know nothing about the gods who were not recorded.
Some Celtic deities were imports. Garmangabis seems to have been introduced by the Germanic vexillation of Suebians, who erected an altar to her at Lanchester during the reign of Gordian III [225].13 The Roman habit of personifying geographical areas into quasi-religious figures also generated new British deities. Another goddess, Brigantia, represented the Brigantian tribal region, and was depicted in the guise of Minerva on a carved relief from Birrens (see [109]).
Altar from near the fort at Lanchester, dedicated to the German goddess, Garmangabis, by the vexillation of Suebians, during the reign of Gordian III (238-44).
The so-called mystery cults introduced an exotic and unprecedented component into the Romano-British pantheon. Mainly originating in the Eastern Empire, cults like the worship of Isis had started to become fashionable in Rome long before the conquest of Britain [226]. Their veneration in the Roman world was a typical consequence of an international society in which soldiers, officials and traders travelled widely across Europe, North Africa and the Near East. By the late first century, there was a temple to Isis in London recorded on a graffito on a first-century flagon. Its presence reflected the cosmopolitan nature of the provincial capital. Either this or another temple of Isis was restored in London in the middle of the third century.14
Relief from the temple of Isis at the shrine of Hathor, built by Augustus. The cult of Isis proliferated throughout the Roman Empire, carried from Egypt to places as far away as London by traders and soldiers.
Also becoming popular in Rome long before the conquest of Britain was Cybele, the Phrygian mother goddess, readily associated with the classical Ceres and Juno. Cybele’s lover, Atys, castrated himself in a ritual declaration of remorse for an act of infidelity. Her most extreme adherents castrated themselves, and a pair of clamps found in the Thames was decorated with figures that make it certain it was connected with the cult. At Carvoran, by Hadrian’s Wall, the prefect had an altar carved with a prayer in the form of A metrical poem to ‘Ceres the Syrian Goddess.15 Serapis, an Egyptian god, originated in the sacred bull, Apis, and had been created as a new cult in late Egyptian times under the Ptolemaic Greek rulers. As a favourite of Septimius Severus and Caracalla, Serapis became particularly popular in the late second and early third centuries. Appropriately a temple was built at York at around the time the imperial household was based there by the legate of the VI legion, Claudius Hieronymianus [227].16
Inscription recording the building of a temple at Eboracum to Serapis by Claudius Hieronymianus, legate of the VI legion. Probably c. 190-210, but the text must predate the division of Britain into Inferior and Superior.
The renewed interest in paganism in fourth-century Britain has always been very difficult to interpret, partly because of the ambivalent use of pagan myth and allegory. The very late temple at Maiden Castle produced a strange, small bronze figure group of a tri-horned bull with three women riding on it. The group may represent a barely known Gaulish god called Travostrigaranus, but it seems quite extraordinary that he should have appeared in Britain so late in the day, unless he had somehow been restored by some enthusiast for the old gods. This is not as strange as it seems. The period was an immensely troubled one. The villa owners might have had money and time to spend on the country houses, but the accumulating political insecurity of the age had helped provoke Julian II (360-63) into relegitimizing paganism. The Christian church was being rent by divisions between the Orthodox and Arian branches. Traditional gods, whether classical or Celtic, might well have seemed like safer and more reliable options. At Lamyatt Beacon, the figures of gods found were conventional provincial representations of old classical gods, such as Mercury, Minerva and Hercules. The Thetford Treasure, deposited at the very end of the fourth century, was unequivocally associated with the god Faunus, an ancient Italian woodland god linked to Bacchus and last heard of in the works of Horace. A burial of a man aged around 40 excavated at Boscombe Down contained pagan-style grave goods, including coins which dated it to the late fourth century, and a fine glass beaker.
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