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In ancient Rome, the dark and the cold of midwinter brought with them the feast of Saturn, the god of sowing and of agriculture. Saturn’s holiday, the Saturnalia, was meant to celebrate the end of autumn planting. Initially, it was held on December 17th but over time, the “Saturnalia season” was lengthened to about a week, provoking complaints from Roman scrooges who tired of the seemingly endless gift-giving, the requisite good cheer, and the non-stop revelry.

The ancient writer Lucian provides us with a lively account of the celebrations. In his Saturnalia, he assumes the voice of the god Saturn, and tells us just what is expected of the merry-makers:

During my week the serious is barred; no business allowed! Drinking, noise, and games and dice, appointing of kings and feasting of slaves, singing naked, clapping of frenzied hands, an occasional dunking of faces in icy water – such are the functions over which I preside!

Because it was a religious celebration, the Saturnalia began with a sacrifice to Saturn, which was made at his temple in the Roman Forum. The religious ritual was followed by a public feast - reason enough for the Romans to throw off their cumbersome togas and to don lightweight dressing gowns and pilei (soft red caps). After enjoying the banquet, everyone ran through the streets shouting, “Io Saturnalia!”

But the fun had just begun! For the duration of the Saturnalia, everyone was on vacation. No public business could be transacted, the law courts were closed, schools were on holiday, gambling was allowed in public, and it was considered impious to begin a war.

Even slaves were given a break from the monotony of the daily routine. Granted temporary freedom, they did not have to perform their usual daily tasks, and they were treated to a banquet prepared by their masters, who also waited upon them at the table.

Saturnalia gifts were purchased for friends and family. Wax candles and clay figurines were the most common gifts, but for those tired of the same old routine, stationary, togas, alabaster bottles, and jars of plums also made appropriate presents. Then, just as now, shopping for the perfect gift was difficult. The first-century writer, Martial, made a list of presents that would impress the man or woman who had everything: live mullets, a peacock-feather fly-whisk, and snow strainers. Hard to find in the shops, but worth the effort!

In a witty epigrams, Martial also tells us that re-gifting was already standard practice in ancient Rome:

Regifted (Epigram VII.53)

Last Saturnalia, friend, I think
You must have passed along
To me each little gift you got
Yourself; now am I wrong?
Twelve tablets, seven toothpicks came;
Sponge, napkin, cup not far
Behind, a half a peck of beans,
Some olives, a black jar
Of cheap new wine, some withered prunes,
Some figlets (not too big),
And a monstrous heavy urn, filled up
With another kind of fig.
I’d say these gifts, in all, were worth
30 sesterces or less,
But eight huge Syrian slaves were needed
To carry the whole mess.

I have a better plan: next year
When you’re sending gifts to me
You’ll find one boy could tote five pounds
Of silver easily.

Translation Dorthea Wender