This essay examines a detail from our historical knowledge, and from that detail—namely, the etymology and gender of the name Thebris—constructs an analysis of Italian society, which is afflicted by a collapse of medium- and long-term memory. Contemporary digital amnesia, embraced as a right to speak without knowledge, and wielded as a shield and justification because of the corruption of contemporary political classes, intersects with the semantic, linguistic, and semiotic analysis of the Etruscan word Thebris, which has served, and still serves, to identify a river now known as the Tiber.

This river is the product of millennia of trans-formations—both material and linguistic—that do not create, nor are they the result of, gender theory. This theory, feared and ostracized—sometimes with justification due to its moralistic, puritanical, illiberal, and fascist tendencies, particularly within American society—derives instead from a constant process of social evolution and trans-figuration. From a philosophical standpoint, this is the concept most feared by our political classes and the ideologues of American imperialism.

Yet it is precisely this process of trans-mutation that has shaped and served the Italic peoples, who are sharply aware of the trans-itory nature of individual lives, nations, and the political institutions that claim to defend and represent them through the paraphernalia of power and the renaming of hydronymic roots, and, more broadly, the nomenclature of our realities and cultural identities, both historical and, as a consequence, contemporary.

Introduction to the Concept that the Tiber Is Not Male

The numerous and varied names of the Tiber, especially in the Roman period, reflect the complexity of the cultural and identity-based sedimentations that shaped the name of the river flowing through Rome. Virgil, in particular, uses the following appellations: Rumo, Albula, Thybris, Tiberinus, and Tiberi, [1] which do not exhaust the hydronyms and epithets of the Tiber. [2] The Tiber has had numerous names resulting from the gradual fusion over time of the languages of Italic peoples (Sabines, Picenes, Albans, Oscans, Volscians, Opici, Samnites, Etruscans, to name a few), until they were systematized by the predominant Latin language. Thebris is an Etruscan hydronym that presents multiple issues due to the long historical sedimentation of the language itself, [3] and the linguistic exchanges between the Etruscans and the Carthaginians, Greeks, and Siculi, not to mention the local Italic populations that bordered Etruria. 

This linguistic stratification becomes part of the interactions between Indo-European cultures and the cultures of Italic populations, for whom rivers, lakes, marshes, and sulfurous waters were reserved for the worship of the goddess and her myriad incarnations, such as Mefitis, Egeria, Diana, Venus, and Juno, to name a few that can be traced back to the transpositions of the cult of Mater Matuta [4] or the Mediterranean Great Black Mother. All goddesses were bearers of life and fertility, a characteristic that distinguishes the salt waters of the sea from the fresh waters of the Tiber. And this is why Tiberinus pater remains for Virgil, who, though describing him no longer as mater, still acknowledges him as a bearer of life. [5]

Rivers and bodies of water are often symbolically associated with female deities due to their life-giving and nourishing qualities, celebrated through orgiastic rituals, as well as for their chthonic, horribilis, [6] and fearsome nature. These regenerative qualities are tied not only to the worship of life but also to that of the dead, as evidenced in many mythologies—from the river goddesses of the Vedic tradition to ancient Mediterranean and Celtic beliefs. However, in Roman mythology, Tiberinus was masculinized, marking a departure from this cultural pattern and the traditions of the Italic peoples. The transition from Thebris (dynamically neutral or potentially feminine in Etruscan) to Tiberinus may signify the imposition of patriarchal structures, trans-forming fluid deities, often feminine, into masculine incarnations of territorial power. 

According to Giuliano Bonfante, the Etruscan Thefarie is equivalent to TBRY’ in Phoenician, Tiberius in Latin, and the Etruscan Thybris. The name Tiberius, which appears much later in Latin—Bonfante further explains—seems to be an ancient Italic name, with examples found in northern Etruria that include Thefri, Thefrina, Thepri, and Theprina. [7]

This gender trans-formation in the mythological narrative may signal broader cultural shifts in the Roman worldview, [8] particularly regarding land control, natural resources, and the enterprising role of women, [9] themes often intertwined with the rise of patriarchal societies. The myth of Tiberinus [10] also intersects with Roman political and territorial power, converting the fluid and nurturing aspects traditionally associated with rivers through female religious and hydronymic connotations, [11] into symbols of male dominance and control over nature. [12] Such control extended from Rome into Etruria and the Indo-European Italic peoples, who had previously intermingled with and been influenced by proto-Italic matriarchal traditions. [13]

Whether or not Thebris is an Etruscan form, or Etruscan/Italic, given the intermingling between the Etruscan language and various Indo-European languages, it is significant to understand that the Tiber had multiple names as it flowed through diverse populations along its course. [14] Each of these populations imbued the river with its own distinct meanings and cultural interpretations, reflecting their unique mythological perspectives, [15] which were rooted in feminine theological and/or ritual frameworks that would later be absorbed and trans-formed into the “agrarian” components of the Roman pantheon. [16] The trans-ition to Tiber—whether due to the legend of King Tiberinus’ fall into its waters, or derived from Tibri, the king of the Etruscans, or from the king of the Siculi (or Sicani), or from any of the numerous kings mentioned in literature, [17] —is not the focal point of this analysis. Rather, the key element is the Roman linguistic adaptation of the name Thebris, which signifies the extension of Rome’s future imperial dominion and the complex commercial, cultural, and linguistic relations between the Etruscans and the peoples with whom they traded or bordered. [18] Further evidence of the complexity of this analysis lies in the exchange of peoples, languages, and cultural identities that occurred among the Italic populations themselves—“cupar o cubare è verbo comune all’ etrusco, al falisco e al latino,” [19] —as well as between the Italic peoples and the Greeks. The Greeks, in fact, appear to have called the river Thymbris, suggesting a connection to Thymbra in the Troad, where a river by the name of Thymbrius flowed. [20] Support for this theory may be found in Virgil’s use of Thymbris and Thymbraeus as epithets for the Trojans in the Aeneid. [21]

Nor can one overlook Krzysztof Tomasz Witczak’s theory, which posits that “the evolution of Latin Tïbĕris from Tïbhĕs-i-s is nearly flawless from a phonological perspective. The rhotacism of intervocalic -s- is a typical process across Italic languages, including Latin.” [22] Witczak connects the ancient name Temes (*Tïbesis in Thraco-Dacian), a tributary of the Danube, suggesting an intriguing linguistic and cultural continuity in river names between the Balkan region and proto-Italic or even non-Indo-European languages. This name, *Tïbesis, may stem from a shared root across ancient populations, which frequently associated water with symbolic meanings of purity, clarity, or vitality. Such a root could have found dissemination within the broader Mediterranean basin, potentially fostering reciprocal influences among Etruscans, Dacians, Thracians, and other neighboring cultures. Furthermore, in Etruscan, the suffix -s in Thybris might indicate an animated or active quality, [23] which could carry connotations that are neutral, dualistic (encompassing both masculine and feminine), or even specifically feminine.

Whatever the origin of Tiber, the focus for this analysis is that all ancient hydronyms associated with Tiber should be considered subsequent to Albula. The name Albula, which previously denoted the Tiber River, is almost certainly feminine if it belongs to Latin or Italic/Indo-European derivation; and it remains feminine even if it is to be regarded as proto-Italic or proto-Indo-European in nature. [24]   

[A]misit verum vetus Albula nomen.  [25]

Albula, quem Tiberim mersus Tiberinus in undis 

Reddidit. [26]

Albula, si memini, tunc mihi nomen erat. [27]

The name Albula is an ancient one, vetus, as both Virgil in the Aeneid and Varro attest. Although there is no clear consensus among ancient authors regarding how or why the river Albula became known as Thebris, it is universally agreed that Albula was the river’s earlier name. This aligns with the tradition among ancient cultures of associating rivers and water bodies with female deities or personifications. Moreover, it is notable how Roman religion exhibited a fluid characteristic, evolving as a trans-itory accumulation of names [28] that reflected multiple, sometimes conflicting, Italic and foreign cults throughout the Republic and later the Empire. [29]

Albula likely derives from the Latin albus, meaning “white” or “bright,” perhaps in reference to the river’s clear or foamy waters. According to Syncellus, the name Alba Longa is believed to have been chosen by Ascanius, who gave the city the Tiber’s ancient hydronym, Alba. [30] While Alba and Albula are both Latin—and thus Indo-European terms—they may also represent words that the Romans absorbed from the Etruscans, subsequently assimilating and Latinizing them. In this case, Albula could be seen as a diminutive, affectionate, or even pejorative form [31] of Alba, possibly alluding to the sulfurous, milky-white waters of the Tiber and to a chthonic or “mephitic” deity presiding over them. [32]  This feminine pejorative might reflect a cultural disdain for Italic matriarchal legacies, suggesting the need to rename the river and erase the last traces of Italic matriarchal inheritances as part of a broader effort to Romanize and patriarchalize the landscape. Regardless of whether the Tiber was considered male or female, for the Romans, it embodied or was inhabited by a deity. [33]

The subsequent renaming to Tiberinus, following the mythologized hero’s fall into the river’s waters, , [34] marks a transition to a strongly masculine association, reflecting a shift in the perception and deification of the Tiber within Roman mythology. This mythology was highly politicized and necessitated a trans-substantiation of historical realities into a hyper-iconic narrative that invariably showcased the grandeur of Rome, and consequently of the Romans, diminishing the role of Italic peoples—who were integral to the foundation of the substrate upon which the Roman Empire was built—to mere background actors. These appearances, whether of greater or lesser fame, were meant to cast reflected glory upon Rome’s already radiant mythological narrative. The virgin Camilla, of Virgilian memory, clearly points to the existence of matriarchal or egalitarian societal structures among the Italic populations, even though the existential context of the Amazonian figure remains vague and trans-parent, as noted by T.T. Duke. [35] Certainly with regard to the Volsci, [36] the Italic population to which the virgin Camilla belonged, there is a possibility of social structures with matriarchal elements. However, it is also plausible that matriarchal forms may have extended to the Oscans, Umbrians, and Opici. Such historical instances of social ambivalence, balancing both feminine and masculine characteristics, were also reflected within institutionalized theological forms. [37] 

According to Valeria Viparelli, Camilla was raised with a bow and arrows, as if she were a man destined for war, and the details of her upbringing, as presented by Virgil, disrupt traditionally defined gender roles. [38] Camilla is Italic, just as Rome is Italic, founded by Italic peoples striving to repel an invasion of Trojan newcomers—“effeminate, stereotypically deceitful, and notorious wife-stealers (the translation is mine).” [39]

The matriarchalism of ancient Italic populations in Europe, as defined by Marija Gimbutas, arose from a teocentric culture prevalent among these peoples between the sixth and fourth millennia BCE, preceding the Proto-Indo-European invasions and later Indo-European migrations. [40] Thus, Albula could represent an Indo-European evolution reflecting the femininity of the goddess Tiber. Given the historically verified precedence of Etruscan populations over the Latins, their non-Indo-European language, and their matriarchal social structures—notably their placement in a region between the Arno and Tiber rivers—[41] it becomes challenging to deny the possible existence of an Etruscan hydronym for the Tiber that was either neutral or feminine in quality. If not Etruscan, this feminine hydronym might have originated in one of the possible languages of the Italic populations residing along the Tiber, as both Virgil and Ovid clearly indicate that Albula was later transformed to Tiberinus. 

Albula, if derived from albus, could be the Latin rendering of an original Etruscan name (explaining both the -a ending, which could denote a neutral, feminine, or masculine form, and the linguistic flexibility to accommodate multiple genders) or a term from another language spoken by the populations along the Tiber, each of whom may have assigned their specific hydronym to the river. Imagining formal geographical and linguistic conferences among Italic peoples between the sixth and first millennia BCE to stabilize hydronyms seems unlikely. The name Albula, whether understood as Latin or Etruscan, reveals the river’s originally feminine nature, a gender identity since transformed to the present-day masculine “Tiber,” marking it as a river trans-formed in a gendered sense. Had the hydronym been masculine, the Romans might have translated it as Albulus or Albus, without any need to rename it Tiberinus, unless they sought to impose a distinctly masculine, fierce, and warrior-like identity while simultaneously erasing any feminine associations. Virgil’s catalog of the Tiber’s names thus appears as a likely list of appellations attributed to the river by various peoples along its course over time. These were some of the hydronyms by which the river was known up to the age of Augustus, during a process of defeminization and hypermasculinization that served the Augustan imperial narrative of strength and power, a narrative which Virgil helped to shape and embody.

The issue arises in that Alba and Albula, as Latin terms, could not predate the Etruscan Thebris, which might lead us to conclude that Alba and Albula were adoptions and Latinizations of the Tiber’s ancient name. But to which linguistic group do Alba and Albula belong, given there is no indication that they are of Etruscan origin and that they should theoretically being vetus precede Thebris? 

Assuming that multiple names for the Tiber could have coexisted along the riverbanks, as argued thus far, there are two possibilities to explain Alba and Albula.

 

Latin and Indo-European Hypothesis

The first possibility is that the term originates from Proto-Indo-European (PIE), which would create a hypothetical sequence that could explain its evolution, albeit with the awareness that such a sequence is artificially constructed and overlooks the temporal and geographical intervals of coexistence, succession, and obsolescence of the ancient names for the Tiber. Considering the etymology of the name Albula, it is plausible to imagine a complex linguistic and cultural trajectory that might trace back to PIE roots. The Latin word albus, meaning “white,” is directly linked to the PIE root albʰós or h₂elbʰós, which also denotes “white.” This term shares semantic fields with various Indo-European languages, such as Lithuanian baltas (white) and possibly Proto-Finnic kalbas, underscoring its firm grounding in Indo-European linguistic tradition. 

The evolution of names for the Tiber could thus be illustrated as follows:

albʰós – h₂elbʰós – Alba – Albula – Θύμβρις – Θύβρις – Thybris – Thebris – Tiberinus – Tiber

This brings us directly to the gendered aspect of Albula and its broader implications. The feminine nature of Albula, in its Latin form, suggests that the river Tiber—initially known by this name—may have held feminine connotations, aligning with ancient traditions that associated rivers with female deities. This hypothesis finds support in broader Indo-European practices, in which rivers and bodies of water are often personified as feminine entities due to their life-sustaining and nourishing qualities. For example, the Proto-Indo-European term danu, meaning “river,” is frequently associated with female water deities, as illustrated across various Indo-European mythologies (e.g., the Celtic goddess Danu). [42]

 

Non-Indo-European Hypothesis

There is an alternative hypothesis suggesting that Albula could have pre-Indo-European or non-Indo-European origins. Prior to the spread of Latin and other Italic languages, Italy was inhabited by various pre-Indo-European cultures, such as the Etruscans. One might speculate that Albula could have been influenced by or derived from a pre-Roman or Proto-Italic name, subsequently Latinized. In this case, the Latin term albus would constitute a secondary association, retrospectively applied to an existing local name for the river. Thus, Albula would not be an Indo-European or Latin word but rather Etruscan, Ligurian, Nuragic, or even a composite of these languages, given the Etruscans’ propensity for assimilating terms from other languages. This root, in fact, could trace back to ancient cultures in which the names of rivers often incorporated the alb- or alv-sound. Moreover, variants such as Alva (in reference to rivers and springs) appear across Proto-Italic and Latin geographies, underscoring the potential for a deep-seated and culturally diverse linguistic heritage reflected in such place names.

Alvu – Albu [43] – Alba – Albula – Θύμβρις – Θύβρις – Thybris – Thebris – Tiberinus – Tiber [44]

Within the non-Indo-European Hypothesis there are three possibilities for the origins of the root Alv/Alb that could be explored: Etruscan, Ligurian and Nuragic origins.

 

Possible Etruscan Origins

Non esiste, infatti, una chiara evidenza lessicale etrusca di una parola specifica che corrisponda esattamente a Albu o Alvu come appare nei contesti successivi, latini o indo-europei. When considering the word Albula and its possible Etruscan origins, it is essential to explore both the linguistic and cultural possibilities, especially given that the Etruscan language remains partially untranslated. The decomposition of the term into Albu or Alvu, followed by a suffix such as “-la,” presents a certain logical allure, particularly regarding how the Etruscan language formed words and toponyms. However, identifying a direct Etruscan root corresponding to Albu or Alvu is complex, as the surviving Etruscan lexicon is limited. Indeed, there is no clear lexical evidence in Etruscan of a specific word that precisely corresponds to Albu or Alvu as it appears in later Latin or Indo-European contexts. This absence complicates efforts to establish a definitive connection between the name Albula and the Etruscan linguistic heritage, as any conjecture must navigate the substantial gaps in our understanding of Etruscan vocabulary and its linguistic structures. This exploration underscores the challenges faced by scholars attempting to decipher the rich tapestry of ancient languages and their influences on one another, highlighting the intricate interplay between linguistic evolution and cultural identity in ancient Italy.

However, scholars have identified similar phonetic structures in other known Etruscan words, which might suggest the presence of analogous forms. For example, Etruscan toponyms often contain the suffix “-la,” as seen in names like Apusla (likely corresponding to the Latin Oppiola), which could support the hypothesis of a decomposition of Albula into Albu- + -la. This type of linguistic structure, while difficult to confirm with the currently available lexical evidence, nonetheless opens intriguing interpretative possibilities from both linguistic and cultural perspectives. [45] Moreover, while it may seem like a stretch, I prefer to view “-la” as a marker of affinity or belonging, as it might mythologically suggest a connection of the Proto-Italic peoples to a possible goddess Albu, whoever she may have been and wherever she resided. [46] This notion enriches our understanding of the cultural landscape of ancient Italy, inviting further exploration of the potential divine associations embedded within geographic nomenclature.

 

Possible Ligurian Origins

In the pre-Latin toponymy of Liguria, the root alb- does not directly correspond to the concept of whiteness; instead, it is associated with water, tracing back to a much older pre-Proto-Indo-European root, Hal-bh-, meaning water or spring. This connection makes it easier to envision a relationship between Alba and Albula in the naming of the Tiber River, hypothesizing a linguistic exchange between Proto-Ligurian and Etruscan. This scenario is further supported by the geographical proximity of the areas influenced by Ligurian and Etruscan populations, which would have facilitated the dissemination of terms related to geography and waterways. Such an exchange could reflect deeper cultural and linguistic interactions between these ancient peoples, influencing the formation of hydronyms. This perspective invites a reassessment of how water-related names in ancient Italy may embody complex cultural exchanges, enriching our understanding of the interconnectedness of early Mediterranean civilizations. [47]

 

Possible Nuragic Origins

In languages such as Sardinian, there are derivatives like alvu (meaning “white” or “clear”) that reveal a connection to water, understood as a reflective and transparent substance. This aligns with the hypothesis that Albula may not strictly derive from Latin but rather be an adaptation or resonance harmonizing with pre-existing languages such as Proto-Italic and non-Indo-European languages. Sardinians, indeed, were no strangers to Mediterranean trade dynamics and engaged extensively with Crete, Cyprus, Sicily, and the Etruscans. This context of cultural exchanges could have facilitated the transmission and adaptation of names associated with natural elements, such as bodies of water, thus establishing the use of shared linguistic roots. [48] While these hypotheses remain provisional, the Sardinian alvu—a term denoting “white” or “clear”—may plausibly trace its origins to the linguistic framework of the Nuragic civilization, either directly influencing or resonating within the lexicon of the Etruscans. The potential interchange or convergence of these terms, whether through tangible cultural contact or as reflections of a shared proto-linguistic heritage, suggests a framework for exploring deeper interrelations among pre-Indo-European languages across the Mediterranean basin. Such considerations align with the theory that linguistic “fossilization” can preserve ancient roots, maintaining associations with natural elements like water and light in contemporary languages. [49] Additionally, the broader cultural exchange evidenced by Sardinia’s established trade networks with Crete, Cyprus, Sicily, and the Etruscan civilization underscores the plausibility of such lexical transfers. Scholars note that these Mediterranean interactions may have facilitated the sharing or adaptation of terms, particularly those linked to environmental features, which often hold deep symbolic and functional value in ancient societies. [50] However, to substantiate this hypothesis, further lexical analysis is required, involving rigorous comparative studies of Nuragic, Etruscan, and Proto-Italic linguistic structures to clarify whether alvu represents a culturally ingrained, cross-regional conceptualization of natural elements. While definitive evidence confirming a clear linguistic transmission is currently lacking, advancing this line of inquiry could significantly contribute to our understanding of pre-Roman linguistic continuity and cultural interaction across the Mediterranean. Future research should aim to undertake a comprehensive comparative analysis of these linguistic roots, with a focus on proto-linguistic patterns that may elucidate relational ties between Nuragic and Etruscan vocabulary. Such studies would not only deepen insights into linguistic evolution but also refine our understanding of cultural synthesis among ancient Mediterranean civilizations, fostering a broader, interdisciplinary narrative of early Mediterranean connectivity and exchange.

A more plausible hypothesis is that the words Alba and Albula in Nuragic, Etruscan, and Ligurian languages may have stemmed from a shared Proto-Italic root, preserving dual meanings associated with water and whiteness, or that this phenomenon reflects a trans-ition in meaning from water to white in the word Alba. This linguistic parallel suggests that early Italic populations may have conceived of these terms interchangeably or as metaphorically related, mirroring broader cultural interpretations of nature. However, with the progressive Romanization of these languages, the semantic range could have shifted, as white potentially supplanted water as the dominant meaning—possibly due to evolving cultural priorities and linguistic simplifications under Roman influence. While this theory is compelling, it requires further comparative linguistic analysis, drawing from both archaeological evidence and in-depth study of Proto-Italic etymologies, to validate any definitive connections between these ancient languages and the respective uses of this root. 

 

Considerations on the Trans-formations

This complex analysis, with its derived hypotheses and theoretical framework, opens the possibility of interpreting Albula as a vestige of the earlier theological nature attributed to rivers in pre-Roman societies. This significance may have been systematically altered or masculinized with the expansion of Roman cultural and territorial dominance. The argument, therefore, integrates into a broader model of patriarchal reinterpretation and trans-formation of natural and divine forces within ancient Italic civilizations across the Mediterranean—a perspective that may be seen as part of the history of “linguistic sentiment.” [51]

Even if these names cannot be neatly aligned due to their various trans-formations of meaning—shifting among water, white, and brilliant—the evolutionary progression of river names can be marked with some accuracy. In this case, the passage from Albula to Tiberinus serves as a compelling example. The precise mechanism of this trans-formation remains elusive but likely reflects the military, cultural, and patriarchal expansionism of Rome.

Whether the Etruscans were Indo-European or what the roots of Albula and Thebris may be could be considered irrelevant arguments, if it were not for the fact that the hydronym of the Tiber, along with the ethnic nature of the Etruscans, has been at the center of a hyper-symbolic political and cultural narrative of a patriarchal nature since the founding of Rome. This narrative, through the definition of historical and mythological storytelling during the Augustan period, and through genetic and social narratives during Fascism in Italy and National Socialism in Germany, seeks to establish the roots that led to the emergence of the best political governance and the best peoples of Italy and Europe: the Aryans.

Moreover, the legacy of the fascist male is embedded in an Italian society composed of women existing in areas of exclusion, [52] who are absent because they have been physically eliminated or because their voices have been rendered silent and ‘ignorant’—missing-mancanti—of their female and matriarchal roots. [53] Therefore, it is crucial that the historical-mythological reference to the Tiber and the goddess Rome with bare breasts, [54] when it occurs, does not invoke a male Tiber of patriarchal and fascist nature—the source of the Tiber is marked, demarcated, and stained by the sculptural signs of fascism—but rather a comprehension of the complexity of waters that we traverse daily in our history and lives. When these waters are not merely those of a polluted river reduced to the sewer of Rome, they remind us of a distant past of Mutterrecht [55] of Italic populations, which still speaks to us today without our knowing, hearing, or recognizing it.

The Fascist Identity of the Superior Male and the Erasure of Matriarchy

TO BE CONTINUED…

ENDNOTES

[1] Francis Cairns, Frédérique Biville, Niklas Holzberg, Stratis Kyriakidis, Andreas Michalopoulos, Helen Peraki-Kyriakidou, Emma Stafford, Javier Uría, and Daniel Vallat, “The Nomenclature of the Tiber in Virgil’s Aeneid,” in What’s in a Name?: The Significance of Proper Names in Classical Latin Literature, eds. Joan Booth and Robert Maltby, 65 (Swansea: The Classical Press of Wales, 2006).

[2] “There are at least thirty-five distinct epithets and phrases of a descriptive nature which apply directly and specifically to the Tiber, besides certain others of only limited applications.” Verner J. Warner, “Epithets of the Tiber in the Roman Poets,” The Classical Weekly 11, no. 7 (1917): 52. Also: Eleanor S. Rutledge, “Vergil and Ovid on the Tiber,” The Classical Journal 75, no. 4 (1980): 301–4.

[3] Giuliano Bonfante e Larissa Bonfante, The Etruscan Language: An Introduction (Manchester and New York: Manchester University Press, 2002), 4.

[4] Maurizio Bettini, “Su Alcuni Modelli Antropologici Della Roma Più Arcaica: Designazioni Linguistiche e Pratiche Culturali (II),” Materiali e Discussioni per l’Analisi Dei Testi Classici, no. 2 (1979): 9–41.

[5] Herbert W. Benario, “Vergil and the River Tiber,” Vergilius (1959-), no. 24 (1978): 4–14.

[6] Horribilis tamquam Potens – orribili perché da temere poiché potenti e portatrici di portenti. “[T]imeo indica la paura, istintiva e irrazionale; metuo il timore, consapevole e ragionato; uereor aggiunge spesso l’idea del rispetto e della vergogna; pertimesco è momentaneo (impaurirsi) di fronte al durativo timeo (aver paura); formido è il timor panico, che paralizza; paueo e horreo descrivono gli effetti fisici del timore, il batticuore e il brivido” (Alfonso Traina e Tullio Bertotti, Sintassi normativa della lingua latina. Esercizi. Per i Licei e gli Ist. Magistrali (Colombia: Cappelli, 1993), § 314 n.1. Also: “The myths of the great mother in a phallic (terrible) form relate to the second stage and their focus in on winning her favours and avoiding her wrath. The fear of the feminine is ascribed to this stage.” Shubhangana Atre, “The Feminine as Archetype,” Annals of the Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute 92 (2011): 161-162.

[7] Giuliano Bonfante e Larissa Bonfante, The Etruscan Language: An Introduction, (Manchester and New York: Manchester University Press, 2002), 67.

[8] “To offer two clear and especially prominent examples: positing the earth (terra) as feminine, and reinforcing this conception through daily usage, contributes to the notion that the natural world reproduces itself in ways analogous to the human; positing the powers of fertility as having both male and female grammatical gender, as with the native Roman deities Liber and Libera, extends that same analogy to the workings of the gods. In these two instances, grammatical gender works to organize the realms of both the human and the more-than-human.” Anthony Corbeill, “Introduction: Latin Grammatical Gender Is Not Arbitrary,” in Sexing the World: Grammatical Gender and Biological Sex in Ancient Rome, 3 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2015).

[9] Iain McDougall, “Livy and Etruscan Women,” The Ancient History Bullettin 4, no.2 (1990): 24-30.

[10] “One factor which must have stimulated Virgil’s interest in the different names of the Tiber is that by his time many conflicting versions of the etymology and aetiology of the river and its names were extant. Thus Tiberinus was in one account a (Latin) king of Alba who drowned in the river and gave it his name, while Thybris (or Thebris) was an earlier eponym, usually an Etruscan king (of Veii according to Varro) with a similar history, although in one version he was a king of the Aborigines. A third eponym, Tiberis (or even Tiberius Silvius) is also recorded. The nomenclature of the Tiber was therefore a key focus for the sorts of ‘problems’ which Hellenistic grammarians loved to argue over, and which Hellenistic poets, both Greek and Roman, loved to embody in their verse. Francis Cairns, Frédérique Biville, Niklas Holzberg, Stratis Kyriakidis, Andreas Michalopoulos, Helen Peraki-Kyriakidou, Emma Stafford, Javier Uría, and Daniel Vallat, “The Nomenclature of the Tiber in Virgil’s Aeneid,” in What’s in a Name?: The Significance of Proper Names in Classical Latin Literature, eds. Joan Booth and Robert Maltby, 68 (Swansea: The Classical Press of Wales, 2006).

[11] “Archaeological and early documentary records also contain multiple serpentine figures, sometimes male, sometimes female, sometimes neither or both. Their form mirrors water’s fluid characteristics, and it would appear that aspects of the environment have often been symbolically gendered according to their particular attributes. Thus water sources were often seen as embodying ‘feminine’ principles, homologously echoing women’s containment of fluid, life-sustaining places.” Veronica Strang, “Lording It over the Goddess: Water, Gender, and Human-Environmental Relations,” Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion 30, no. 1 (2014): 87-88.

[12] “For example, the river was Tiber, while the river-god appeared as Tiberinus; […] On a psychological level, there can be little doubt that such a creation of ‘proper names’ from appellatives served to transform the appellative notion into a more familiar, ‘god-type’ person with an individual name.” Michael Lipka, Roman Gods: A Conceptual Approach (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2009), 90. For a contemporary understanding of water and the social implications of its gender neuter grammatical status: Eleanor Ruth Hayman,“Shaped by the Imagination: Myths of Water, Women, and Purity,” RCC Perspectives, no. 2 (2012): 23–34.

[13] G. W. Bowersock and T. J. Cornell, eds., “From Bachofen to Cumont (1988),” in A. D. Momigliano: Studies on Modern Scholarship, 1st ed., 315–328 (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1994).

[14] W. Warde Fowler, “Virgil’s Idea of the Tiber,” The Classical Review 30, no. 8 (1916): 219-222.

[15] “[…] G. Dumézil un instrument délicat à manier, apte à provquer des confusions si l’on n’éclaire pas les images par un autre outil: la comparaison, la mise en contexte.” Martin Galinier, “Mythe et Images. Georges Dumézil Au Miroir de l’Histoire de l’Art,” Revue Historique 307, no. 1 (633) (2005): 9.

[16] G. W. Bowersock and T. J. Cornell, eds, “From Bachofen to Cumont (1988),” in A. D. Momigliano: Studies on Modern Scholarship, 1st ed., 321–322 (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1994).

[17] George Cornewall Lewis, An Inquiry Into the Credibility of the Early Roman History, Volume I (London: John W. Parker and Son,1865), 363, notes 32, 33. Anche: Fausto Zevi, “Siculi e Troiani (Roma e la Propaganda Greca nel V Secolo a.C.),” in La Colonisation Grecque en Méditerranée Occidentale. Actes de la rencontre scientifique en hommage à Georges Vallet organisée par le Centre Jean Bérard, l’École Française de Rome, l’Istituto Universitario Orientale et l’Università degli Studi di Napoli “Federico II”: Rome-Naples, 15–18 novembre 1995, (Collection de l’École Française de Rome, 251.), 321 (Rome: École Française de Rome, 1999); and Michele Carcani, “Il Tevere e le Sue Inondazioni,” L’Album: Giornale Letterario e di Belle Arti XXVI (1859): 110.

[18] Giacomo Devoto, “Gli Etruschi Nel Quadro Dei Popoli Italici Antichi,” Historia: Zeitschrift Für Alte Geschichte 6, no. 1 (1957): 23–33. Also: Richard Daniel De Puma, “The Meanings of Bucchero,” in The Etruscan World, eds. Jean Macintosh Turfa, 986 (Abingdon and New York: Routledge, 2013).

[19] “[…] cupar or cubare is a verb common to Etruscan, Faliscan, and Latin.” (The translation is mine.) A. Borromei, “Grammatica Etrusca,” Giornale Ligustico di Archeologia, Storia e Letteratura XIV (1887): 19.

[20] George Cornewall Lewis, An Inquiry Into the Credibility of the Early Roman History, 364-365, note 37.

[21] Ibid.

[22] Krzysztof Tomasz Witczak, “The Latin Origin of the River Name Tiberis,” Latomus 73, no. 1 (2014): 6.

[23] Winfred P. Lehmann, “Comparative Linguistics,” in Reconstructing Languages and Cultures, ed. Edgar C. Polomé and Werner Winter, 13 (Berlin and New York: Mouton de Gruyter, 1992).

[24] “What is of interest in the present context is that the Greeks adopted as the normal word for fire the form in the neuter gender (Gr. πῦρ; cf. Germ. Feuer, Eng. ‘fire’), whereas the Romans came to use the animate, masculine form (Lat. ignis; cf. Agni, the male Vedic fire-god). An analogous tendency can be observed in the two PIE words for water, which again have both inanimate (neuter) and animate manifestations (in this case, feminine): Greek adopted the neuter form as the dominant word (Gr. ὕδωρ; cf. Germ. Wasser), whereas the Latin word is feminine and originally animate (Lat. aqua; cf. Goth. ahva, denoting flowing water). In Latin, the PIE neuter form of ‘water’ acquired a specialized meaning (unda, ‘wave’) and, perhaps unsurprisingly, it had passed into the feminine gender by the historical period. This tendency to ascribe sexual characteristics to primal elements of nature continues into the late Republic.” Anthony Corbeill, “Roman Scholars on Grammatical Gender and Biological Sex,” in Sexing the World: Grammatical Gender and Biological Sex in Ancient Rome, 26 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2015).

[25] George Cornewall Lewis, An Inquiry Into the Credibility of the Early Roman History, 364, note 37.

[26] James J. O’Hara, “Vergil’s Best Reader? Ovidian Commentary on Vergilian Etymological Wordplay,” The Classical Journal 91, no. 3 (1996): 257.

[27] Eleanor S. Rutledge, “Vergil and Ovid on the Tiber,” 302.

[28] “Here Evander is narrating the history of Latium. He recounts how the Ausonians and Sicans came to Latium, how the ‘Saturnian land’ often changed its name, and how the Tiber lost its old name, Albula, and was named Thybris after ‘huge Thybris’.” Francis Cairns, Frédérique Biville, Niklas Holzberg, Stratis Kyriakidis, Andreas Michalopoulos, Helen Peraki-Kyriakidou, Emma Stafford, Javier Uría, and Daniel Vallat, “The Nomenclature of the Tiber in Virgil’s Aeneid,” in What’s in a Name?: The Significance of Proper Names in Classical Latin Literature, eds. Joan Booth and Robert Maltby, 76 (Swansea: The Classical Press of Wales, 2006).

[29] Nelson de Paiva Bondioli, “Roman Religion in the Time of Augustus,” Numen 64, no. 1 (2017): 51.

[30] George Cornewall Lewis, An Inquiry Into the Credibility of the Early Roman History, 354-355.

[31] Massimiliano Di Fazio, “Il Lazio Meridionale Negli ‘Annales’ Di Ennio,” Latomus 72, no. 1 (2013): 83–85.

[32] Consulit Albunea, nemorum quae maxima sacro

Fonte sonat saevamque exhalat opaca mephitim.

“Albunea, the Sybil, had a grove at Tibur and a sulphur spring, the source of the Albula.” Thomas Maguire, “Vergiliana,” Hermathena 5, no. 11 (1885): 341.

[33] “Since in early times the river was believed to be divine or inhabited by a water deity, the erection of a bridge was thought to require special care so as not to anger the river god, who could devastate the city by flooding. The religious character of this structure is demonstrated by the fact that it could not contain any metal.” Forsythe Gary, “Archaic Roman Religion,” in A Critical History of Early Rome: From Prehistory to the First Punic War, 1st ed., 138 (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2005).

[34] George Cornewall Lewis, An Inquiry Into the Credibility of the Early Roman History, 364. 

[35] T. T. Duke, “Metabus of Privernum,” Vergilius (1959-), no. 23 (1977): 36.

[36] The Volsci being of Indo-European character does not rule out the strong possibility—indeed, almost certainty—that they were an Italic-Indo-European population. This suggests that through two successive waves in 1200 BCE and 1000 BCE, local populations (Prisci, Ausoni, and Aurunci) likely merged with incoming groups. In some cases, these “new” Volsci may have inherited matriarchal traits from indigenous cultures, integrating them into the formation of a new cultural and social identity. To dispute this reasonable hypothesis, one would have to assume not a cultural blending but rather a complete erasure—a tabula rasa—where previous inhabitants were exterminated to start anew. Such a complete annihilation, however, would have been improbable and would still have inevitably led to cultural and genetic blending, as seen in instances of devastation, plagues, and genocides among the populations of Central and South America following the arrival of the conquistadores. Giacomo Devoto, “Per la Storia Linguistica della Cociaria,” in La Ciociaria Storia, Arte, Costume, 3-6 (Roma: Editalia, 1972). Anche: Massimiliano Di Fazio,“Il Lazio Meridionale Negli ‘Annales’ Di Ennio,” Latomus 72, no. 1 (2013): 81–95.

[37] Michelle Pach Wilhelm, “Venus, Diana, Dido and Camilla in the ‘Aeneid,’” Vergilius (1959-), no. 33 (1987): 47–48. Anche: Grace Starry West, “Chlores and Camilla,” Vergilius (1959-), no. 31(1985): 22-29.

[38] Valeria Viparelli, “Camilla: A Queen Undefeated, Even in Death,” Vergilius (1959-) 54 (2008): 9-10.

[39] Lee Fratantuono,“Ut Videre Camillam: The Nachleben of Reckless Heroism,” Rivista Di Cultura Classica e Medioevale 48, no. 2 (2006): 201-202.

[40] Gimbutas, Marija, The Civilization of the Goddess: The World of Old Europe (HarperCollins, 1991). Anche: Marija Gimbutas, The Living Goddesses (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1999); Marija Gimbutas, The Goddesses and Gods of Old Europe: Myths and Cult Images (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2007), 198; and Marija Gimbutas, “The Mask in Old Europe from 6500 to 3500 B.C.,” Archaeology 27, no. 4 (1974): 268–269.

[41] Giuliano Bonfante e Larissa Bonfante, The Etruscan Language: An Introduction (Manchester and New York: Manchester University Press, 2002), 49.

[42] Mircea Eliade, A History of Religious Ideas: From Gautama Buddha to the Triumph of Cristianity, Vol II, trans. Willard R. Trask (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1982), 148. 

[43] At this juncture, it is pertinent to highlight that Etruscan is characterized as an agglutinative language. Luciano Agostiniani, “Contribution à l’Étude de l’Épigraphie et de la Linguistique Étrusque,” Lalies 11 (1992): 53.

[44] It would be erroneous to suggest a straightforward, linear progression in the sequence of names attributed to the Tiber River, as if there were distinct moments in which one name ceased to exist and another permanently replaced it. It is more plausible that these appellations—such as Albula, Thebris, and Tiberinus—coexisted, employed concurrently by diverse populations, each with its own linguistic practices and social distinctions. The usage of these names likely varied in frequency and connotation according to region, social strata, or even religious practices. What can be asserted with some degree of confidence is the eventual predominance of Tiberinus over Albula, although the exact mechanisms of this transition remain elusive. It is unclear whether this change was the result of a gradual linguistic evolution, a deliberate political or cultural act, or a combination of these forces. Furthermore, the timing and extent of this shift among various social classes or geographic regions cannot be definitively established, leaving open the possibility that both names coexisted for an extended period.

[45] A. Borromei, “Grammatica Etrusca,” Giornale Ligustico di Archeologia, Storia e Letteratura XIV (1887): 165, 183.

[46] Jean Hadas-Lebel hypothesizes the existence of a locative suffix -l(a) that might explain the connection of Albu to this particular place, namely the Tiber. Jean Hadas-Lebel, Les cas Locaux en Étrusque, (Roma: G. Bretschneider Editore, 2016), 108­-109. Moreover, it is essential to highlight the phenomenon of betacism, a linguistic shift that transformed the term alvu into albu in the Sardinian language. This process opens various hypotheses regarding linguistic interaction between the Etruscan and Nuragic populations. The first hypothesis proposes that the word was a linguistic “fossil” preserved in Sardinian but originally imported from Etruria. The second possibility suggests that the term originated in the Nuragic language and was later assimilated by the Etruscans. Lastly, it could be hypothesized that both the Etruscans and Nuragics shared a common Proto-Italic root, subsequently Latinized during the process of Romanization. Each of these hypotheses necessitates a careful comparative analysis, both linguistic and archaeological, to determine the most plausible path of transmission.

[47] “Therefore it is possible to recognize the existence of a toponymic and hy- dronymic «family» that descends from the common pre-Proto-Indo-European root *haalbh- (then subjected to the dephonologization of the laryngeal and morpho-phonologically transformed in the variants *albh-, *olbh- [> *olb- > /orb-/], *albhā, *albho- and, in terms of meaning, in the sequences ʻwaterʼ → ʻplace situated near waterʼ → ʻplace located on the waterʼ → ʻtownʼ and ʻwaterʼ → ʻclear/ light waterʼ → ʻwhite waterʼ → ʻwhiteʼ).” Francesco Perono Cacciafoco, “Water Origins: the *alb‐ Root in the Pre‐Latin Toponymy of Ancient Liguria,” Acta Linguistica: Journal for Theoretical Linguistics 7, no. 1 (2013): 70‐86.

[48] Francesco Muscolino, “Insularity and Mediterranean Networks in the Collections of the National Museums of Cagliari from Prehistory to the Contemporary Age,” in Islands and Communities: Perspectives on Insularity, Connectivity, and Belonging, ed. Anastasia Christophilopoulou, 102–104 (Oxford: Oxbow Books, 2024).

[49] Massimo Pallottino, The Etruscans, ed. David Ridgway, trans. J. Cremona (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1984), 55–63. Giovannangelo Camporeale, Gli Etruschi: Storia e Civiltà (Torino: UTET, 2012), 92–98.

[50] Colin Renfrew, “The Origins of Indo-European Languages,” Scientific American 261, no. 4 (1989): 106–115.

[51] Benvenuto Terracini, I Segni, la Storia: Una Raccolta di Saggi, (Napoli: Guida Editori, 1976), 13, 313.

[52] “These mythically stable [grammatical gender] oppositions constructed along the lines of sex contribute to the separation of male and female into exclusive areas, and the history of injustices arising from this separation need not be rehearsed here.” Anthony Corbeill, “Introduction: Latin Grammatical Gender Is Not Arbitrary,” in Sexing the World: Grammatical Gender and Biological Sex in Ancient Rome, 8 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2015).

[53] Amartya Sen, The Argumentative Indian: Writings on Indi History, Culture and Identity (London: Penguin Books Ltd., 2005), 225.

[54] “[…] mother of the Roman people, consort fo the emperor, and fierce protector of the empire. Thus the two essential meanings of Romas’s revealed breast as valorous and maternal not only complemented each other; they were inextricably bound together.”Lillian  Joyce,“Roma and the Virtuous Breast,” Memoirs of the American Academy in Rome 59/60 (2014): 2.

[55] Colin Renfrew, “The Identity of Europe in Prehistoric Archaeology,” Journal of European Archaeology 2, no. 2 (1994): 153–73.

IMAGES

Image Cover: Lanfranco Aceti, Gracefully, for the Love of God, 2024. Photographic print on fine art paper from performance and installation. Performer: Jupi Mojaiski.