The Sacred Chickens of Rome
—Chrissie
Listen here: https://www.spreaker.com/user/bqn1/hwts003
The people of the Roman Republic were a superstitious lot. Like so many cultures of the ancient world, their relationship with the gods was transactional. The people did what they could to make and keep the gods happy and the gods responded to requests accordingly. Generally, the gods were placated with some kind of sacrifice, ranging from the simple burning of incense to the killing of a prized bull. Many of the sacrifices were offered as an opportunity to divine the reception of the gift by the gods, by interpreting the signs presented, anything from the shape of the smoke from the incense to the state of a sacrificed animal’s entrails. This last one is a practice known as haruspicy (we’ll definitely be coming back to that in another episode).
For this episode, we’ll be focusing on one of the more unusual (at least, to the modern eye) means of divination: The Sacred Chickens. These birds were maintained, and their actions interpreted, by the pullarius, the “keeper of the sacred chickens.” When they were to be consulted, a question or potential action was presented to the gods, then grain was scattered in front of the chickens; if they ate heartily the gods were happy with the plans of the questioner. They might also indicate the gods’ pleasure by stamping their feet in the tripudium (the sacred dance) and by filling their mouths so full that some of the grain fell out. If the gods were unhappy, the chickens would refuse to eat. As you might imagine, this system was not immune to manipulation. The pullarius generally knew what result was desired, could not help but affect his interpretation. Bribery was common practice in Ancient Rome and the priests were not immune to such temptations, no matter how impious the action. For the Sacred Chickens, the easiest way to manipulate the results was to make sure the chickens were hungry (or not) when presented with the grain.
The Roman Historian Livy tells the story of L. Papirius Cursor, the consul for 482 BCE and a general in the war against the Samnite tribe in central Italy. On the eve of battle, the chickens were consulted and the pullarius reported a favorable response. A few hours later, Papirius discovered that the augurs were not in agreement in the positive interpretation. He made a declaration to the soldiers that because he trusted the pullarius and acted upon the good omens reported to him, the bad omens did not reflect upon him or his plans, but upon the deceitful pullarius. He made amends to the gods by placing the man at the front line of his army, where he was the first killed as the battle was engaged. He announced the gods were satisfied and promised a victory, which his army delivered.
Generally, though, disrespecting the chickens and the signs they presented was a great sacrilege, and punished accordingly. The best-known example of this comes from the First Punic War. In 250 BCE, the consul Publius Claudius Pulcher took command of the Roman fleet, with which he intended to take the Sicilian port of Drepana (modern Trapani). As was customary, the Sacred Chickens were to be consulted before the battle, but Claudius was impatient to get underway so that they would be travelling hidden by darkness. Rather than take the auspices on the beach, the chickens were brought on board the flagship. At dawn, grain was scattered on the deck, but the chickens did not eat, some even refused to step out of their cages. This was an unquestionably bad omen. The soldiers demanded that they turn back or delay the attack, threatening mutiny. Claudius angrily rejected the idea of the bad omen, claiming that the chickens were simply seasick (he was probably right). He refused to leave it there, however, feeling the need to express his anger at the gods themselves by picking up the chickens and throwing them overboard. He is reported to have said “if they won’t eat, let them drink.” This cowed the soldiers, but the omen was correct: Rome lost the battle. 93 of 123 ships were seized or destroyed, and Rome lost 20,000 men to death or capture. Pulcher was recalled and tried by the Senate. He was narrowly acquitted of treason but could not escape a conviction of sacrilege. He was sent into exile.
A century later, Gaius Hostilius Mancinus tried to consult the chickens before a battle against the Numantines in Spain. I say “tried” because when the chickens were released from their cages, they ignored the grain and ran off into the woods, never to be found. He was defeated and, as a stipulation of the peace treaty, was handed over the enemy to be punished.
One last story of the Sacred Chickens comes from the life of Tiberius Gracchus, the famous (and infamous) Tribune of the Plebs. He spent his first term in office pushing for reforms to aid the poor and landless in Rome, making enemies in the Senate due to both the idea and his tactics. In order to continue his work, and maintain the public protection granted to a Tribune of the Plebs, he ran for an unprecedented (though not illegal) second term. On the morning of the vote, Tiberius consulted the family’s chickens and found they were not in favor of his attending the balloting on the Campus Martius. This election was already somewhat tainted as the Senate had already delayed it once in hopes of keeping Tiberius’ supporters from voting, and the commentary from the chickens was not surprising for that reason. He should have listened to the chickens: he was killed in a riot before the election could even begin.
The Sacred Chickens lost popularity as the Republic turned to Empire, being replaced by whatever means of divination was favored by the current dynasty. By the beginning of the Fourth Century, practicing divination in any form had fallen out of favor with the growing popularity and influence of Christianity.