The influence of the Romans on the world was both profound and multifaceted. They introduced impressive construction techniques, advanced logistical methods, cutting-edge technology, and a structured legal system. However, one of the most significant impacts they left behind could be seen as a form of cultural assimilation that bordered on genocide. While the Romans had a tendency to incorporate various customs and traditions from the cultures they encountered, this often resulted in a subtle distortion that rendered these traditions almost unrecognizable after the Roman period. If one were to visualize Rome as a color, it would be beige—this hue symbolizes the homogenizing effect they had globally.
This erasure of cultural identity was particularly evident with civilizations that relied heavily on oral traditions, such as the Celts. Within the Celtic tribes, spirituality and religion played an essential role in daily life. Though their customs, rituals, and even technologies varied by tribe, a shared mythology underpinned their cultural identity. This unification was largely facilitated by the druids—religious leaders who dedicated their lives to memorizing vast bodies of lore and presiding over religious practices. These druids commanded immense respect, if not outright admiration, from diverse tribes that often disagreed on mundane matters like the color of the sky.
The crux of the issue lay in the fact that the Celts kept their mythos solely within the minds of the druids, as they had no written records of their beliefs. Consequently, when the Romans arrived and began to eradicate the druids and impose their own culture, the original religious system faced complete obliteration.
One might wonder why the Celts, despite their ability to read and write, abstained from documenting their religious beliefs. A plausible explanation may be similar to a practice in the early church where only select individuals, such as priests, were granted access to religious texts. This exclusivity kept power centralized within the church, preventing ordinary individuals from interpreting divine will in ways that diverged from established doctrine.
Much of the information we possess about the Celts comes from Roman accounts, which were influenced by their own cultural perspectives and biases. Romans labeled anyone outside their empire as “barbaric,” leading to a lack of interest in genuinely understanding these cultures unless it served their conquest objectives. They frequently correlated their deities with those of the local populace, particularly when they found similarities in attributes or myths. This syncretism can be clearly observed in the temple at Bath, where the Romans unified their goddess Minerva with the Celtic goddess Sulis to form Sulis-Minerva.
A central focus of this discussion is the Celtic deity Camulos (or Camulus), who is thought to be a god of war.
The Romans associated him with their war god Mars, which subsequently connected him with the Greek Ares. Evidence of Camulos appears on a handful of coins minted in Gaul during the Roman Empire, and the town Camulodunum (now Colchester) is believed to derive its name from him.
My analysis of Camulos encounters a challenge here, as ancient cultures—including the Greeks and Romans—typically did not have straightforward definitions for a “god of war.” Most pantheistic societies allocated various aspects of warfare to different deities. For instance, Ares embodies the brutal and chaotic violence of war, while Athena symbolizes strategic intelligence and the honor associated with battle. Interestingly, some argue that Aphrodite, who had origins beyond Greece, possessed a martial aspect as well, a viewpoint that even found acceptance in Spartan culture. When considering her, one might reflect on how themes of love and war can intertwine, sparking chaos.
The Celts were likely a militaristic society, a notion heavily influenced by Roman narratives. Given that the Celts bested the Romans in several skirmishes, the accounts of their military abilities may have been embellished to bolster Roman pride in their victories and provide context for their defeats. This purported valor might reflect a pantheistic belief system where separate deities represented different dimensions of warfare. It’s conceivable that Andraste, a Celtic goddess, served as a counterpart to the fierceness associated with Camulos.
Camulos held particular significance for the Remi tribe on the European mainland, where he was viewed as a protector and guardian. The town of Camulodunum was fortified, indicating a strong connection to defense rather than just aggression, which distinctly diverges from Mars’s typical portrayal of unrestrained violence.
Adding to the complexities surrounding Camulos are the depictions on coins, which represent him with stag horns or alongside a boar. This might suggest a greater connection to hunting and nature than to war. Furthermore, the idea of associating him with femininity is quite unlikely, given societal norms of the time. Hence, any true understanding of Camulos remains clouded by personal biases and speculative interpretations.
A breakthrough discovery in archaeology occurred at Bar Hill near Cambridge. An altar unearthed in the eighteenth century features a broken inscription that reads Deo Marti Camulo Milites Cohortis Hamoirum (To the God Mars Camulos, the Soldiers of the First Cohort of Hamians). Although the inscription is incomplete, it hints at a reverence for Camulos that intertwines with martial duties.
Upon beginning my research into Camulos, I anticipated finding a wealth of artistic representations, expansive Roman texts, or detailed accounts. However, it became clear that only a handful of Latin inscriptions, a few coins with ambiguous depictions, and brief notes from sources like Julius Caesar exist. The overwhelming narratives we’ve drawn largely stem from these limited references.
Some points of interest in my findings include:
1. A general consensus that Camulos was widely venerated, with only Camulodunum frequently mentioned without any additional urban centers associated with him.
2. The Roman connection of Camulos with Mars, a statement which appears unquestionable when considering the few descriptions available.
Nevertheless, I can’t fully endorse the notion that these coins portray Camulos, as the term “CAMULO” appears on any coin issued from Camulodunum during this era. My skepticism is not new; it stems from a long-standing critique of Roman historical records, as they often yield little substantial evidence about Celtic worship of a war deity named Camulos.
In summary, this exploration of Camulos reveals the challenges in piecing together a coherent narrative about this deity, highlighting the intricacies of cultural interpretation across historical lenses.
