Part 21

But there is another possibility which must at least be suggested. The myth attached to the _ara maxima_ and the Aventine, that of Hercules and Cacus, stands alone among Italian stories, as the system of tithe-giving does among Italian practices. We may be certain that the practice did not spring from the myth; rather that an addition was made to the myth, when Hercules was described as giving the tenth of his booty, in order to explain an unusual practice. Yet myth and practice stand in the closest relation to each other, and the strange thing about each is that it is unlike its Italian kindred.

Of late years it has become the fashion to claim the myth as genuine Italian, in spite of its Graeco-Oriental character, on the evidence of comparative mythology[825]: but no explanation is forthcoming of its unique character among Italian myths, all of which have a marked practical tendency, and a relation to some human institution such as the foundation of a city. They are legends of human beings and practices: this is an elemental myth familiar in different forms to the Eastern mind. Again, the Hercules of the myth has nothing in common with the genuine Italian Hercules, whom we may now accept as = genius, or the masculine principle—as may be seen from the sorry lameness of the attempt to harmonize the two[826]. Beyond doubt there was an Italian spirit or deity to whom the name Hercules was attached: but there is no need to force all the forms of Hercules that meet us into exact connexion with the genuine one. We have seen above that the Hercules of the _ara maxima_ may possibly have concealed Mars himself, in his original form of a deity of cattle, pasture, and clearings. But there is yet another possible explanation of this tangled problem.

The Roman form of the Cacus-myth, in which Cacus steals the cattle from Hercules, and tries to conceal his theft by dragging them backwards into his cave by their tails, has recently been found in Sicily depicted on a painted vase, whither, as Professor Gardner has suggested, it may have been brought by way of Cyprus by Phoenician traders[827]; and the inference of so cautious an archaeologist is, apparently, that the myth may have found its way from Sicily to the Tiber. Nothing can be more probable; for it is certain that even before the eighth century B.C. the whole western coast of Italy was open first to Phoenician trade and then to Greek. And we are interested to find that the only other traces of the myth to be found in Italy are located in places which would be open to the same influence. From Capua we have a bronze vase on which is depicted what seems to be the punishment of Cacus by Hercules[828]; and a fragment of the annalist Gellius gives a story connecting Cacus with Campania, Etruria, and the East[829]. At Tibur also, which claimed a Greek origin, there is a faint trace of the myth in an inscription[830].

Now assuming for a moment that the myth was thus imported, is it impossible that the anomalies of the cult should be foreign also? That one of them at least which stands out most prominently is a peculiarly Semitic institution; tithe-giving in its systematized form is found in the service of that Melcarth who so often appears in Hellas as Herakles[831]. The coincidence at the Aventine of the name, the myth, and the practice, is too striking to be entirely passed over—especially if we cannot find certain evidence of a pure Italian origin, and if we _do_ find traces of all three where Phoenicians and Greeks are known to have been. We may take it as not impossible that the _ara maxima_ was older than the traditional foundation of Rome, and that its cult was originally not that of the characteristic Italian Hercules, but of an adventitious deity established there by foreign adventurers.

ID. SEXT. (AUG. 13). NP.

FER[IAE] IOVI. (AMIT. ALLIF.)

DIANAE IN AVENTINO. (AMIT. VALL. ANT. ALLIF.)

SACRUM DEANAE. (RUST.) NATALIS DIANES. (PHILOC.)

VORTUMNO IN AVENTINO. (AMIT. ALLIF.)

HERC[ULI] INVICTO AD PORTAM TRIGEMINAM. (ALLIF.)

CASTORI POLLUCI IN CIRCO FLAMINIO. (AMIT. ALLIF.)

FLORAE AD C[IRCUM] MAXIMUM. (ALLIF.)

All Ides, as we have seen, were sacred to Jupiter; and it does not seem that there is here any further significance in the note ‘feriae Iovi.’ Though there was a conjunction here of many cults, this day was best known as that of the dedication of the temple of Diana on the Aventine, which was traditionally ascribed to Servius Tullius. There are interesting features in this cult, and indeed in the worship of this goddess throughout Latium and Italy. For the most famous of all her cults, that of Aricia[832], I need only refer to Mr. Frazer’s _Golden Bough_—the most elaborate and convincing examination of any ancient worship that has yet appeared. Of the goddess in general it will be sufficient to say here that whatever be the etymology of her name or the earliest conception of her nature—and both are very far from certain—she was for the old Latins second only to Jupiter Latiaris in the power she exercised of uniting communities together and so working in the cause of civilization. This was the ease with the cult on the Aventine, as it was also with that at Aricia[833].

About the political origin of the temple on the Aventine tradition was explicit[834]. Livy says that Servius Tullius persuaded the chiefs of the Latins to build a temple of Diana in conjunction with the Romans; and Varro calls it ‘commune Latinorum Dianae templum.’ The ‘lex templi,’ or ordinance for the common worship of Romans and Latins, was seen by Dionysius—so he declares—written in Greek characters and preserved in the temple[835]. The horns of a cow[836], hung up in front of this temple, gave rise to legends, one of which is preserved by Livy, and seems to bring the Sabines also into the connexion. This temple was, then, from the beginning in some sense extra-Roman, i. e. did not belong to the purely Roman gentile worship. And it had other characteristics of the same kind; it was specially connected with the Plebs and with slaves, and as, in the case of the neighbouring temple at Ceres, there was a Greek character in the cult from the beginning.

I. _The Connexion with the Plebs._ The position on the Aventine would of itself be some evidence of a non-patrician origin; so also the traditional ascription to Servius Tullius as the founder. More direct evidence seems wanting[837], but it is not impossible that the temple marks a settlement of Latins in this part of the city.

II. _The Connexion with Slaves._ The day was a holiday for slaves[838], perhaps after the work of harvest. There was one other Latin goddess, Feronia, who was especially beloved by emancipated slaves[839]; and as Feronia was a deity both of markets and harvests, there is something to be said for the suggestion[840] that both slave holidays and slave emancipation would find a natural place on occasions of this kind. It would seem also that this temple was an asylum for runaway or criminal slaves—a fact which slips out in Festus’ curious reproduction of a gloss of Verrius Flaccus[841]: ‘Servorum dies festus vulgo existimatur Idus Aug., quod eo die Servius Tullius, natus servus, aedem Dianae dedicaverit in Aventino, cuius tutelae sint cervi, a quo celeritate fugitivos vocent servos.’ The stag, as the favourite beast of Diana, may perhaps have a Greek origin; but the inference from the false etymology remains the same.

III. _The Greek Character in the Cult._ As in the case of Ceres, the temple-foundations of this age might naturally have a Greek character, owing to the foreign relations of the Etruscan dynasty in Rome[842]. We have already noticed the lex templi, said to have been written in Greek characters. It is a still more striking fact that there was in this temple a ξόανον, or wooden statue of Diana, closely resembling that of Artemis at Massilia, which was itself derived from the famous temple at Ephesus[843]. The transference to Diana of the characteristics of Artemis was no doubt quite natural and easy; for, hard as it is to distinguish the Greek and Italian elements in the cult, we know enough of some at least of the latter to be sure that they would easily lend themselves to a Greek transformation. This transformation must have begun at a very early period, for in B.C. 398 we find Diana already associated with Apollo and Latona, in the first _lectisternium_ celebrated at Rome, where she certainly represented Artemis[844].

On the whole this temple and its cult seem a kind of anticipation of the great temple on the Capitol, in marking an advance in the progress of Rome from the narrow life of a small city-state to a position of influence in Western Italy. The advance of the Plebs, the emancipation of slaves, the new relations with Latin cities, and the introduction of Greek religious ideas are all reflected here. New threads are being woven into the tissue of Roman social and political life.

The close relation of Diana to human life is not very difficult to explain. Like Fortuna, Juno Lucina, Bona Dea, and others, she was a special object of the worship of women; she assisted the married woman at childbirth[845]; and on this day the Roman women made a special point of washing their heads[846]—an unusual performance, perhaps, which has been explained by reference to the sanctity of the head among primitive peoples[847]. But Diana, like Silvanus, with whom she is found in connexion[848], was no doubt originally a spirit of holy trees and woods, i. e. of wild life generally, who became gradually reclaimed and brought into friendly and useful relations with the Italian farmer, his wife, and his cattle[849].

This was also the _dies natalis_ of another temple on the Aventine, that of Vortumnus, which was dedicated in B.C. 264 by the consul M. Fulvius Flaccus[850]. About the character of this god there is fortunately no doubt. Literature here comes to our aid, as it too rarely does: Propertius[851] describes him elaborately as presiding over gardens and fruit, and Ovid[852] tells a picturesque story of his love for Pomona the fruit-goddess, whose antiquity at Rome is proved by the fact that she had a flamen of her own[853]. The date, August 13, when the fruit would be ripe, suits well enough with all we know of Vortumnus.

The god had a bronze statue in the Vicus Tuscus, and perhaps for that reason was believed to have come to Rome from Etruria[854]. But his name, like Picumnus, is beyond doubt Latin, and may be supposed to indicate the turn or change in the year at the fruit-season[855]; and if he really was an immigrant, which is possible, his original cult in Etruria was not Etruscan proper, but old Italian.

Three other dedications are mentioned in the calendars as occurring on Aug. 13: to Hercules invictus ad portam trigeminam; to Castor and Pollax in circo Flaminio; and to Flora ad circum maximum. Of these cults nothing of special interest is known, and the deities are treated of in other parts of this work.

XVI KAL. SEPT. (AUG. 17). NP.

PORT[UNALIA]. (MAFF. AMIT. VALL.) TIBERINALIA. (PHILOC.) FERIAE PORTUNO. (AMIT. ANT.) PORTUNO AD PONTEM AEMILIUM. (AMIT. VALL. ALLIF.) IANO AD THEATRUM MARCELLI. (VALL. ALLIF.)

Who was Portunus, and why was his festival in August? Why was it at the Pons Aemilius, and where was that bridge? Can any connexion be found between this and the other August rites? These questions cannot be answered satisfactorily; the scraps of evidence are too few and too doubtful. We have here to do with another ancient deity, who survives in the calendars only, and in the solitary record that he had a special flamen. This flamen might be a plebeian[856], which seems to suit with the character of other cults in the district by the Tiber, and may perhaps point to a somewhat later origin than that of the most ancient city worships.

There are but two or three texts which help us to make an uncertain guess at the nature of Portunus. Varro[857] wrote ‘Portunalia et Portuno, quoi eo die aedes in portu Tiberino facta et feriae institutae.’ Mommsen takes the _portus_ here as meaning Ostia at the mouth of the Tiber, and imagines a yearly procession thither from Rome on this day[858]. This of course is pure hypothesis; but if, as he insists, _portus_ is rarely or never used for a city wharf on a river such as that at Rome, we may perhaps accept it provisionally; but in doing so we have to yield another point to Mommsen, viz. the identity of Portunus and Tiberinus. In the very late calendar of Philocalus this day is called Tiberinalia, and from this Mommsen infers the identity of the two deities[859].

But it may be that the original Portunus had no immediate connexion either with river or harbour. We find a curious but mutilated note in the Veronese commentary on Virgil[860]: ‘Portunus, ut Varro ait, deus port[uum porta]rumque praeses. Quare huius dies festus Portunalia, qua apud veteres claves in focum add ... mare institutum.’ Huschke[861] here conjectured ‘addere et infumare,’ and inferred that we should see in Portunus the god of the gates and keys which secured the stock of corn, &c., in storehouses. Wild as this writer’s conjectures usually are, in this case it seems to me possible that he has hit the mark. If the words ‘claves in focum’ are genuine, as they seem to be, we can hardly avoid the conclusion that something was done to keys on this day; perhaps the old keys of very hard wood were held in the fire to harden them afresh[862]. It is worth noting that according to Verrius[863] Portunus was supposed ‘clavim manu tenere et deus esse portarum.’ This would suit very well with harvest-time, when barns and storehouses would be repaired and their gates and fastenings looked to—more especially as it is not unlikely that the word _portus_ originally meant a safe place of any kind, and only as civilization advanced became specially appropriated to harbours[864]. This appropriation may have come about through the medium of storehouses near the Tiber; and it was long ago suggested by Jordan that these were under the particular care of Portunus[865].

If Portunus were really a god of keys and doors and storehouses, it would be natural to look for some close relation between him and Janus. But what can be adduced in favour of such a relation does not amount to much[866]; and it may have been merely by accident that this was the dedication-day of a temple of Janus ‘ad theatrum Marcelli’[867].

XIV KAL. SEPT. (AUG. 19). FP. (MAFF. AMIT.) F.

(ANT. ALLIF.) NP. (VALL.[868])

VIN[ALIA]. (MAFF. VALL. AMIT. ETC.)

FERIAE IOVI. (ALLIF.)

VENERI AD CIRCUM MAXIMUM. (VALL.)

The ‘Aedes Veneris ad Circum Maximum’ alluded to in the _Fasti Vallenses_ was dedicated in 295 B.C., and the building was begun at the expense of certain matrons who were fined for adultery[869]. As has been already explained, no early connexion can be proved between Venus and wine or the vintage[870]; though both August 19 and April 23, the days of the two Vinalia, were dedication-days of temples of the goddess.

The difficult question of the two festivals called Vinalia has been touched upon under April 23. The one in August was known as Vinalia Rustica[871], and might naturally be supposed to be concerned with the ripening grapes. It has been conjectured[872] that it was on this day, which one calendar marks as a festival of Jupiter, that the Flamen Dialis performed the _auspicatio vindemiae_, i. e. plucked the first grapes, and prayed and sacrificed for the safety of the whole crop[873]. If it be argued that August 23 was too early a date for such a rite, since the vintage was never earlier than the middle of September, we may remember that the Vestal Virgins plucked the first ears of corn as early as the first half of May for the purpose of making sacred cakes, some weeks before the actual harvest[874].

But it is certainly possible that both Vinalia have to do with wine, and not with the vintage. Festus says that this day was a festival because the new wine was then first brought into the city[875]; and this does not conflict with Varro[876], who tells us that on this day _fiunt feriati olitores_—for it would naturally be a day of rejoicing for the growers. Mommsen, with some reason, refers these passages to the later custom of not opening the wine of the last vintage for a year[877], in which case the year must be understood roughly as from October to August. He would, in fact, explain this second Vinalia as instituted when this later and more luxurious custom arose, the old rule of a six months’ period surviving in the April ceremony. If we ask why the August Vinalia are called Rustica, Mommsen answers that the country growers were now at liberty to bring in their wine.

It is difficult to decide between these conflicting views. When an authority like Mommsen bids us beware of connecting the Vinalia Rustica with the _auspicatio vindemiae_, we feel that it is at our peril that we differ from him. He is evidently quite unable to look upon such a date as August 19 as in any way associated with the vintage which followed some weeks later. Yet I cannot help thinking, that this association is by no means impossible; for the grapes would by this time be fully formed on the vines, and the next few weeks would be an anxious time for the growers[878]. Ceremonies like that of the Auspicatio, intended to avert from crops the perils of storm or disease, are known sometimes to take place when the crops are still unripe. I have already alluded to the proceedings of the Vestals in May. Mr. Frazer, in an Appendix to his _Golden Bough_[879], gives a curious instance of this kind from Tonga in the Pacific Ocean, where what we may call the auspicatio of the Yam-crop took place before the whole crop was fit for gathering. It was celebrated ‘just before the yams in general are arrived at a state of maturity; those which are used in this ceremony being planted sooner than others, and consequently they are the firstfruits of the yam season. The object of this offering is to ensure the protection of the gods, that their favour may be extended to the welfare of the nation generally and in particular to the productions of the earth, of which yams are the most important.’

XII KAL. SEPT. (AUG. 21). NP.

CONS[UALIA]. (PINC. MAFF. VALL. ETC.)

CONSO IN AVENTINO SACRIFICIUM. (VALL.)

There was a second festival of Consus on Dec. 15; but the note ‘Conso in Aventino’ there appears three days earlier, Dec. 12. The temple on the Aventine was a comparatively late foundation[880]; but as the cult of this old god became gradually obscured, it seems to have been confused with the most ancient centre of Consus-worship, the underground altar in the Circus maximus, ‘ad primas metas’[881]. It is with this latter that we must connect the two Consualia. What the altar was like we do not exactly know; it was only uncovered on the festival days. Dionysius calls it a τέμενος, Servius a ‘templum sub tecto’; and Tertullian, who explicitly says that it was ‘sub terra,’ asserts that there was engraved on it the following inscription: ‘Consus consilio, Mars duello, Lares coillo[882] potentes.’ Wissowa remarks that this statement ‘is not free from suspicion’; and we may take it as pretty certain that if it was really there it was not very ancient. The false etymology of Consus, and the connexion of Mars with war, both show the hand of some comparatively late interpreter of religion; and the form of the inscription, nominative and descriptive, is most suspiciously abnormal.

For the true etymology of Consus we are, strange to say, hardly in doubt; and it helps us to conjecture the real origin of this curious altar. Consus is connected with ‘condere’[883], and may be interpreted as the god of the stored-up harvest; the buried altar will thus be a reminiscence of the very ancient practice—sometimes of late suggested as worth reviving for hay—of storing the corn underground[884]. Or if this practice cannot be proved of ancient Italy, we may aptly remember that sacrifices to chthonic deities were sometimes buried; a practice which may in earliest times have given rise to the connexion of such gods with wealth—when agricultural produce rather than the precious metals was the common form of wealth[885]. Or again we may combine the two interpretations, and guess that the corn stored up underground was conceived as in some sense sacrificed to the chthonic deities.

If these views of the altar are correct, we might naturally infer that the Consualia in August was a harvest festival of some kind. Plutarch[886] asks why at the Consualia horses and asses have a holiday and are decked out with flowers; and such a custom would suit excellently with harvest-home. Unluckily in the only trace of this custom preserved in the calendars, it is attributed to the December festival, and is so mutilated as to be useless for detail[887].

FERIAE CONSO EQUI ET [MULI FLORIBUS CORONANTUR]. QUOD IN EIUS TU[TELA SUNT]. [ITA]QUE REX EQUO [VECTUS].

The amplifications here are Mommsen’s, the first two based on Plutarch’s statement. It is a difficulty, as regards the first, that the middle of December would be a bad time for flowers: perhaps this did not occur to the great scholar. I would suggest that either Verrius’ note is here accidentally misplaced, or that the lacunae must be filled up differently. In any case I do not think we need fear to refer Plutarch’s passage to the Consualia of August, and therefore to harvest rejoicings on that day.

The connexion of the Consus-cult with horses was so obvious as to give rise eventually to the identification of the god with Poseidon Hippios. It is certain that there were horse-races in the Circus maximus at one of the two Consualia, and as Dionysius[888] connects them with the day of the Rape of the Sabines, which Plutarch puts in August, we may be fairly sure that they took place at the August festival. Mules also raced—according to Festus[889], because they were said to be the most ancient beasts of burden. This looks like a harvest festival, and may carry us back to the most primitive agricultural society and explain the origin of the Circus maximus; for the only other horse-races known to us from the old calendar were those of Mars in the Campus Martius on Feb. 27 and March 13[890]. We may suppose that when the work of harvest was done, the farmers and labourers enjoyed themselves in this way and laid the foundation for a great Roman social institution[891].

Once more, it is not impossible that in the legendary connexion of the Rape of the Sabine women with the Consualia[892] we may see a reflection of the jollity and license which accompanies the completion of harvest among so many peoples. Romulus was said to have attracted the Sabines by the first celebration of the Consualia. Is it not possible that the meeting of neighbouring communities on a festive occasion of this kind may have been a favourable opportunity for capturing new wives[893]? The sexual license common on such occasions has been abundantly illustrated by Mr. Frazer in his _Golden Bough_[894].