February 21: Feralia (Tacita)

The period dedicated to Parentalia is concluded with the rite of Feralia. This festivity has a peculiar interest because many magic features are mixed in the religious rite. 

Feb. 21 is in particular dedicated to Mater Larum: this Goddess in this day is specifically named Tacita ("The Mute One", "She-The Silence"). Tacita-Mater Larum  is a particularly "Deep" Infera Goddess, maybe she is almost an abyssal Goddess in a sacred and esoteric perspective. She is the Lares' Origin: She is the human generation origins' origin. She is in the Depth (the underworld is the origin of life) where Silence rules.

This festivity is an occasion to think about some magic characteristics in many rites of the Ancient Private Cult. Ovid (Fasti II) describes how in the past the rite of Feralia was carried out.

The pater and the mater familias  invited an old lady (maybe a witch) who had to be helped by three young girls. The old lady offered to Manes three grains of incense taking them with three fingers and put them on the house door. Then she took a doll made of lead (please note the metal used) tying her with some filaments: she whispered some magic formulas eating seven black beans. After that, she cooked a sardine head perforated with a bronze needle. She poured some drops of wine and said this formula:

"We have tied the hostile tongues, our enemies' mouths"

I think that everyone can freely interpret this rite according to the personal point of view..

What we can do today, if it is not possible to find a witch with a specific expertise in this kind of rites, is burning some incense (perfume of Death) in front the housedoor using this hymn (from the Orphic Hymns)

Hear me, O Death, whose empire unconfin'd, extends to mortal tribes of ev'ry kind.
On thee, the portion of our time depends, whose absence lengthens life, whose presence ends.
Thy sleep perpetual bursts the vivid folds, by which the soul, attracting body holds:
Common to all of ev'ry sex and age, for nought escapes thy all-destructive rage;
Not youth itself thy clemency can gain, vig'rous and strong, by thee untimely slain.
In thee, the end of nature's works is known, in thee, all judgment is absolv'd alone:
No suppliant arts thy dreadful rage controul, no vows revoke the purpose of thy soul;
O blessed pow'r regard my ardent pray'r, and human life to age abundant spare.