Month: February 2025

Dressing up, wearing masks, parading, dancing, celebrating through the night: these are all elements that quickly come to mind when thinking about carnival. Although the specific traditions vary per region, examples like the parades in Rio, Venetian masks or Mardi Gras festivities in New Orleans show that carnival celebrations are easily recognizable as such. Masquerades, processions and all-night parties were also part of several ancient festivals. Like carnival, these were celebrated mainly in winter. It is tempting to find a historical connection between these feasts, but is this justified? What is it with celebrating ‘wild’ feasts in the dark days of winter anyway?

Carnival marks the start of Lent, the 40-day period of fasting before Easter, although this religious meaning has faded into the background in most places. The name is derived from the Latin carnelevarius, a composition of carne (meat) and levare (to remove or take away), which indicates abstinence from both meanings of the word carne: meat to eat and bodies to enjoy. As a last occasion to drink, eat and ‘let loose’ without limitations before the fast, it is understandable that this was a moment people particularly enjoyed and saw as an important marker of time.

This is still the case today, even without the strong connection to fasting and Easter, at least in the places where carnival is popular, since the celebration of the feast is tied to specific areas. In the Netherlands, for example, there is a clear division within the country between regions that participate in the celebrations and those that do not: mainly ‘below the rivers’, but also in other towns where the roots of Catholicism run deeper, carnival is a major event and therefore an important marker of annual rhythms.

It is, however, a curious marker of time, as carnival is a moveable feast through its connection to Easter, which is held at a different date every year. The beginning of the carnival season is fixed, on the other hand, although this date differs per region. In the Netherlands it starts as early as the eleventh of November, whereas in other places the first ceremonies are held in late December or early January. With these early dates in mind, one could say that carnival fills the entire period from Christmas until Lent, resulting in a single long festive period with intermittent feasting. For the festive rhythm of the year the precise end of this period might be less important.

Although the origins of carnival remain obscure, there are many similarities to be found between modern practices and ancient Roman festivals, such as the Bacchanalia and Saturnalia – a fact which has often been pointed out. Besides the above-mentioned processions, a playful atmosphere and social inversion were important elements of these feasts. During the Saturnalia, it is said, masters served their enslaved persons and jesting at the expense of your superiors was allowed without consequences. A contemporary tradition during carnival is the transferal of the key of a city to ‘Prince Carnival’, which goes back to Medieval times, when the poorer population got the chance to rule for a few days. During this period of social inversion, people could criticize the traditional rulers and authorities as well.

Despite these similarities, the historian Max Harris argues against a historical connection between these Roman feasts and the tradition of carnival, emphasizing that ‘resemblance is not the same as historical continuity’ (Harris 2006, 63.)  For one, the Bacchanalia and Saturnalia had since long gone extinct when carnival made its first appearance in early twelfth century Rome. There is, however, another Roman winter feast that could more easily fulfill the role of ancient influencer – the Kalends of January or Roman New Year feast. From the long legacy of this festival, and the continued Christian criticism of it as something immoral and pagan, it is known that the Kalends were still celebrated until the twelfth century, in Byzantium at least. Timewise, therefore, a connection between carnival and the Kalends is more likely, as Harris argues as well. The Kalends celebrations of the Roman Republic had little in common with carnival, but the nature of the festival changed in the fourth century, when it increasingly got a reputation for reputation of licentious freedom, masquerades and social inversion. In this period the Roman Empire had become Christian and the revised Kalends festival slowly became a part of the accepted Christian festival calendar, albeit grudgingly. This reluctant acceptance of the Kalends makes the likelihood of the festival influencing carnival even greater.

Another interesting point is that Christmas used to be more similar to carnival than we would expect from our modern traditions. In 1445, complaints were made at the Faculty of Theology in Paris about behavior of clerics during the 12 days of Christmas, where they were participating in masked dances and such. Of course, the Kalends of January were blamed as malevolent pagan influence in this case, while in some other instances the Saturnalia and Bacchanalia were named (Harris 2006, 61-2). Harris argues that this particular aspect of Christmas, probably influenced by the Kalends traditions, was transferred to carnival on the other end of the winter festive season. On a side note, Harris adds that to this day, in places where carnival did not take root such as England, Christmas is still the time for jesting, singing and dressing up (Harris 2006, 104).

To conclude, it is quite possible that the particularly long-lived Kalends festival influenced the Christian carnival festivities. Harris suggests that the masquerading during the Kalends could be a subtle form of Christian resistance to the power of the Church (Harris 2006, 101). Carnival could be seen appropriating this custom as a Christian answer to older feasts, with the possibility to rebel, just a little bit. It appears to be something that belongs to the long season of cold, dark days, when people look forward to the coming of spring. It is no wonder that most winter feasts were festivals of light, centering on the winter solstice, looking forward to lighter days ahead. Easter as a festival of light fits right into this theme, with carnival serving as a bridge between the winter festivities and spring.  

Elsa Lucassen

References

Harris, Max. “Claiming pagan origins for carnival: Bacchanalia, Saturnalia, and Kalends.” European Medieval Drama 10 (2006): 57-107.

1985 is a long time ago. Forty years, to be exact. Or rather, the author of this blogpost, a twenty-seven-year-old Dutch PhD Candidate, thinks it is a long time ago. One could say forty years equal the working life of one generation. In the proceedings of a court case dated 339 CE from Egypt (SB XVI 12692 = P. Col. VII 175), we encounter a law from the emperor Constantine I according to which working land for over a period of forty years makes one the responsible owner of land in case of the absence of a deed of sale or cession. This case illustrates how the passage of (a long period of) time normalized claims of ownership that on the short term might have been disputed. Also, it allows for a more socio-cultural observation regarding what was considered a ‘long’ period and what implications of this qualification were in social reality.

Let us start off by explaining the technicalities. Constantine’s law concerning forty years, the praescriptio quadraginta annorum, was based on a principle first found in a rescript by Caracalla and Septimius Severus, the longi temporis praescriptio, which protected landowners against the possibility of creditors having an eternal claim on one’s lands. If proof of right to a piece land was available, the claim was only valid for a period of ten years if the two parties involved lived in the same village. If they lived in different villages, the claim was valid for twenty years. According to Kehoe, the goal of this praescriptio was to provide landowners with an incentive to invest in land, because it protected ownership (Kehoe 2007, 135-142). A period of forty years appears to be the threshold in the absence of a titulum, a claim to the land in the form of, e.g. a loan contract or a deed of sale. The court case found on SB XVI 12692 shows the praescriptio also had a fiscal dimension, as has been elaborated on by Bianchi (2018, 78-101).

During the spring of 339, two sisters from Karanis, Thaësis and Heraïs, daughters of Atisis, took legal action against ‘the heirs of Atisis’ because the sisters denied being the inheritors of the farmland which had previously been cultivated by their father Atisis. There have been several theories on who is who in this court case. After a re-editon of the first column, Kramer and Hagedorn proposed the sisters were resisting the wrongful ascription of another Atisis’s possessions next to that of their homonymous father’s (Kramer & Hagedorn 1982, cf. Bagnall & Lewis 1979, 173-175). Whether this ‘other Atisis’ truly wasn’t the father of Thaësis and Heraïs remains in the dark.

It might come across as all rather complicated, so I will start with a summary of the facts. Approximately six years before the trial, the sisters fled the village after their father’s passing because they were unable (or so they said) to pay the taxes on their father’s lands. After five years, a government official in charge of the pagus (a late Roman administrative unit) in which Karanis was situated assigned local farmers to work the fields of Atisis. The village community had to pay taxes over this land instead of the delinquent sisters.

One year after this emergency measure had been in place, Heraïs returned to Karanis with her husband Neilos and her sister Thaësis. She demanded the people who had been working and who had harvested from Atisis’ land to pay rent for the past year. They refused. The community reminded them of their obligation to pay taxes, after which the sisters started denying they owned the land at all. They petitioned the prefect of Egypt and asked him to protect them against this ‘unjust claim’ of the villagers. The prefect then ordered the judge and public prosecutor (defensor civitatis) of Arsinoe, the district’s capital, to look into the matter.

The plaintiffs are the two sisters, of whom one is represented by Neilos, who claim the villagers have no proof of the sisters’ ownership of the land. They point to the fact that villagers had farmed the land as proof that they, the villagers, are the heirs of Atisis in terms of responsibility for paying taxes. Their stressing of the fact that villagers had farmed the land would not have made sense if they were disputing ownership of only part of the inheritance, as Kramer and Hagedorn (1982) suggest. Germanos, a village headman, testified before the judge in Egyptian. An interpreter’s translation of this testimony has been written down in the court proceedings. According to Germanos, Atisis had been working the disputed fields for over forty years. The rhetor (solicitor) speaking on behalf of the village calls upon the abovementioned law of Constantine I. According to this law, forty years is a threshold after which no deed of sale or cession or other sort of proof is needed: forty years make one the legitimate owner. Consequently, the passing of time plays a large role in the judge’s verdict. The villagers had only been working the fields of Atisis for one year; too short a period of time. Thaësis and Heraïs lose their case. The judge orders they are the owners and therefore have to pay the taxes due on the land, both theirs and that of the ‘heirs of Atisis’.

The determination of what is a ‘long’ period by the emperor in the longi temporis praescriptio was probably influenced by many factors. One could think of archiving practice, the average lifespan of people, or even, considering Constantine’s flirtations with Christianity, the Biblical significance of the forty-year Hebrew sojourn in the Sinai and Deuteronomy 2.14 in which a generation has a length of 38 years. What is considered ‘long’ is also conditioned by space and time, as it is a concept born from human experience in the Mediterranean world of the fourth century. It is, in any case, an anthropocentric definition of ‘long’ if we bear in mind the shorter lifespan of a flower and the longer period of rock formation. One could add socio-economic and technical layers as well, considering the fact that old age and the possession of land are usually the prerogative of the wealthier; as well as the limits of fourth-century technology with respect to possibilities of long-term archiving.

All in all, this one mention of a law proves a starting point for asking many questions about the ways in which people experienced time and ways in which this experience of few potentially impacted many others who might have experienced time differently. Constantine’s lived time determined the course of the lives of the villagers of Karanis and the way in which they used time. SB XVI 12692 does not only contain an interesting law by Constantine, but it also proves to be for reflections on the socio-cultural structure it is a part of, beyond its événementalité.

Kevin Hoogeveen

References

Bagnall & Lewis 1979: Roger S. Bagnall and Naphtali Lewis, ‘Introduction to P. Col. VII 175′ in: idem, Columbia Papyri VII. Fourth century documents from Karanis (Missoula 1979) 173-175.

Bianchi 2018: Paola Bianchi, Effetti del passaggio del tempo nelle leggi imperiali e nella prassi da Constantino a Giustiniano. Evasione fiscal e possesso, inerzia dei creditori (Canterano 2018).

Kehoe 2007: Dennis P. Kehoe, Law and the rural economy in the Roman Empire (Ann Arbor 2007).

Kramer & Hagedorn 1982: Bärbel Kramer and Dieter Hagedorn, ‘Zum Verhandlungsprotokoll P. Columbia VII 175′, Zeitschrift für Papyrologie and Epigraphik 45 (1982) 229-241.