Chapter XXII

Minor Deities

I. Æolus

Not far from sunny Sicily and the deep crater of Etna, in which Vulcan built his glowing forge, were the Æolian Islands--now called Lipari Islands--where Æolus, god of the winds and storms, kept his turbulent children. He never allowed them to roam at will, but held them securely bound in a great cave, and let them loose one at a time when they needed exercise or when the gods demanded their release. Only once were they allowed to give free play to their boisterous feelings, and rush over the waters, making havoc everywhere, and this was when Jupiter sent a deluge upon the impious earth. Since that time the winds have never roamed at large, though they always chafe at being restrained in their narrow prison and long to break free.

"Hic vasto rex Æolus antro Luctantes ventos--tempestatesque sonoras Imperio premit ac vinclis et carcere frenat. Illi indignantes magno cum murmure montis Circum claustra fremunt; celsa sedet Æolus arce, Sceptratenens, mollitque animos et temperatiras; Ni faciat, maria ac terras cælumque profundum Quippe ferant rapidi secum verrantque per auras."[67]

--VIRGIL, _Æneid_, Book I, line 52.

Æolus wooed and married the dainty Aurora, goddess of the morning, who bore him his sons, _i.e._ Boreas, the north wind; Notus, the south wind; Eurus, the east wind; and Zephyrus, the soft and gentle west wind. Sometimes Aurora sought the services of her children, but they were entirely under the control of their father Æolus who ruled them with a strict hand. Sometimes when the stately Juno sought his assistance, he let the winds sweep over the calm sea until the waves rose mountain high, for he was reputed to have received his royal status as god from Juno's hands, and so was ever anxious to serve her. Once, at her request, he let loose the fiercest winds to destroy the ships of Æneas--that unfortunate hero who was always being pursued by "cruel Juno's unrelenting hate." The goddess was so eager for his destruction that she went herself to the cave of the winds, and begged Æolus to shatter the Trojan ships. So a terrible storm broke over the sea, and the winds drove the vessels of Æneas far out of their course, scattering them here and there, until no two could see each other amid the fury of the tempest. When Neptune realized what was happening, he lifted his head above the white-capped waves and saw the Trojan ships tossed about and beaten out of their course. As he himself had given no commands for such a storm, he knew it was the never-ending hatred of Juno for the Trojans that had brought about the disaster. But the sea, and all that therein is, was Neptune's to control, and he was justly angry with Juno's interference; so he recalled the winds from their mad race and bade the storm cease.

Quite differently did Æolus treat another famous hero, Ulysses, whose ships, on the long homeward journey, touched at the Lipari Islands. Here the wanderer was hospitably entertained by Æolus, and when he set sail again, the kindly god sent the west wind to blow the ships gently over the sea, while he shut up the blustering winds in a leather bag and tied it with a silver string. This bag he gave to Ulysses, "the sagacious," and bade him keep it closed until the journey was over. For nine days and nights the hero stood at the helm watching, while the west wind bore the ships along without the help of oars. At last, exhausted by his long vigil, Ulysses fell asleep; and the sailors, believing that the bag contained treasure that King Æolus had generously given, untied the string and freed the roistering winds. The ships were now driven hither and thither by the madly-rushing winds, and were tossed over the sea far away from the longed-for Ithaca. Finally they were blown back to the Lipari Islands, where Æolus received them but coldly, and refused to help them further. So they turned their prows once more toward home, and worked wearily against wind and weather by the slow pull of the oars.

The Athenians built a temple to Æolus, which is still extant, and is generally known as the Tower of the Winds, or the Temple of Æolus. The structure is hexagonal, and on each side there is a flying figure of one of the winds. Notus (or Auster), the south wind, was usually represented by an old man with dusky wings. He is clad in a black robe, and his head is covered with clouds, for he sends the rains and sudden showers. Eurus, the east wind, was a young man full of impetuous and lively motion. Corus, the northwest wind, drove clouds of snow before him, and Boreas was a figure rough and shivering. Zephyrus had a lapful of flowers, and was the one wind sent to play among children. Boreas was the bringer of hail and tempests, and when he wooed the nymph Orithyia, he sought in vain to approach her gently, and to breathe his love softly. But he could not sigh, and his lightest whisper frightened the maiden by its harshness; so Boreas gave up attempting to win her by gentle means and boldly carried her off to his home in the midst of snow and ice. Their children were Zetes and Calais--winged warriors who accompanied the Argonauts on their famous expedition, and performed a valuable service in driving away the Harpies.[68]

II. Janus

Janus,[69]--god of the past, present, and future; of gates and entrances; of war and peace,--was said to be the son of Apollo; but as he is a Roman god, and entirely unknown to Greek mythology, his ancestry is a matter of doubt. He presided over the beginning of everything, and was therefore invoked first in every undertaking--even before Jupiter. He opened the year and the seasons, and the first month of the year was called after him. He was the porter of heaven, and in this capacity he was represented as holding a key in his left hand and a staff or scepter in his right. On earth he was the guardian deity of gates, and as such he had always two faces turned in opposite directions, because every door looks both ways. Another explanation of his physical duality is that as god of the past and future he sees what is behind and what is before. Janus was also considered an emblem of the sun, and had therefore two faces, one to look at its rising and one to see its setting. Sometimes these faces were alike, but more often they were represented by a white-haired and white-bearded old man on the one side, and a smooth-cheeked youth on the other.

At Rome Numa Pompilius is said to have dedicated to Janus the covered passage--erroneously called a temple--that stood close by the Forum. This was kept open in times of war and closed in times of peace; but such was the belligerent nature of the Romans that the gates were closed but three times in seven hundred years, and then only for a short period.

As he was god of all beginnings, the first of every new year, month, and day was held sacred to Janus, and special prayers and sacrifices were then offered at his shrines. When he presides over the year, he is represented as holding the number three hundred in one hand and sixty-five in the other. Festivals in honor of Janus were celebrated on the first day of the new year, and on this day people exchanged visits, good wishes, and gifts, which usually consisted of sweetmeats and copper coins showing on one side the double head of Janus. The sacrifices offered to Janus on New Year's day and at other times of beginnings were barley, incense, cakes, and wine.

III. Iris and Aurora

Iris was the special attendant of Juno, and was often employed as a messenger by both Juno and Jupiter. In the Iliad she is the swift servant of the gods; but in the Odyssey it is Mercury who is the messenger to and from Olympus, and Iris is never mentioned. Sometimes Iris is described as the rainbow itself; sometimes the rainbow is only the road over which she travels, and which therefore vanishes when it is no longer needed. When Juno sends Iris to the Cave of Sleep "she assumes her garments of a thousand colors, and spans the heavens with her curving arch." As the personification of the rainbow--that brilliant phenomenon that vanishes as quickly as it appears--Iris might easily be considered the swift messenger of the gods.

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Aurora, rosy-fingered goddess of the dawn, opened the gates of the morning for the impatient horses of the sun, who chafed at being held behind the golden bars until Apollo was ready to start forth on his daily course, attended by the faithful Hours. Though Aurora was the wife of Æolus and mother of the winds, she had the usual weakness of the deities of Olympus for falling in love with mortals who won her favor. Thus she became enamored of the young hunter Cephalus, but was unable to gain his love, as he himself had already wedded the fair Procris, one of Diana's nymphs. The happiness of these lovers was a maddening sight to the jealous Aurora, and she determined to find some way to end it. Procris had brought to her husband as a dowry a hunting dog named Lelaps, who could outrun the swiftest deer, and a javelin that never missed its mark. So all day long Cephalus hunted in the forest, and his long absences gave the malicious Aurora an excuse for whispering to the young wife that her husband spend his time in the society of a wood-nymph. For some time Procris resisted these suggestions of the goddess; but at last, overcome by jealousy, she followed Cephalus to the forest to see who the maiden was that charmed him. At noonday the weary hunter sought his accustomed resting place; and as he lay beneath a wide-spreading tree, he called to the breeze to come and refresh him. Believing that he referred to some wood-nymph, Procris sank down among the bushes in a swoon; and her husband, hearing the leaves rustle suddenly behind him, hurled his javelin into the thicket, supposing that some wild beast was crouching near him ready to spring. To his horror he discovered the body of Procris; and though he did all that he could to stanch the wound made by his unerring spear, his wife died in his arms--but not before an explanation had been given.[70]

Though Aurora had succeeded in separating the lovers forever, she did not thereby gain the affections of Cephalus, but was obliged to console herself with the Trojan prince, Tithonus. She begged Jupiter to confer upon him the boon of immortal life; but forgetting that he would sometime grow old, she neglected to ask for him the greater gift of eternal youth. For a while she was very happy with her lover, but as soon as he lost the attractions of youth she wearied of his company and wished to get rid of him. She shut him up in a room of her palace, where his feeble voice could often be heard; and then, knowing that he would never die, she cruelly changed him into a grasshopper.[71]

The son of Aurora and Tithonus was Memnon, who became king of the Ethiopians, and went with a band of warriors to help his kindred in the Trojan war. He fought bravely, but at length met his death at the hands of Achilles. When he fell on the battle-field, Aurora commanded her sons, the winds, to carry his body to the banks of the river Æsepus in Asia Minor, where a tomb was erected to his memory. To honor him further, Jupiter caused the sparks and cinders from his funeral pyre to be changed into birds, which divided into two flocks and fought until they fell into the flames. Every year, on the anniversary of Memnon's death, the birds returned to celebrate the funeral rites in this same strange way. When the flames from the funeral pyre had burned out, Aurora sat by the ashes of her son, weeping and mourning his loss; and the many tears that she shed turned into glistening dewdrops. In Egypt there were two colossal statues, one of which was said to be the statue of Memnon; and tradition tells that when the first rays of morning fell upon it, it gave forth a sound like the snapping of harp strings.

IV. Flora, Vertumnus, and Pomona

Flora, goddess of flowers and of spring, was not among the deities worshiped in Greece, but was everywhere honored among the Romans. She was reputed to have married Zephyrus, the balmy west wind, and with him she wandered happily over town and country, distributing her favors with lavish hand. Though the gentle goddess was universally beloved, her principal devotees were young girls, who delighted in keeping her altars decorated with fruits and garlands of flowers. Her festivals were held during the month of May and were called the Floralia.

Vertumnus and Pomona were also Roman deities and presided over orchards and gardens. Pomona was a Hamadryad, and was so devoted to the care of her trees that she scorned the idea of love. Fauns and satyrs sought to woo her, and Sylvanus--a woodland deity--tried in vain to approach her. Even the wily Pan was never able to come near enough to her to urge his suit, but the youthful god Vertumnus was not to be discouraged by the nymph's coldness, and determined to win her for his wife. Hoping to catch her eyes and so get speech with her, he assumed various disguises. "How often did he carry the ears of corn in a basket under the guise of a hardy reaper. How often he bore a whip in his sturdy hand so that you would have sworn he had that instant been unyoking the wearied oxen. Now he was carrying a ladder, and you would suppose he was going to gather fruit. Sometimes he was a soldier with a sword, and sometimes a fisherman, taking up the rod."[72] But no attractions in the form of man could induce Pomona to leave her orchard, or to admit one of the hated beings. At last the resourceful Vertumnus hit upon the plan that brought him well-earned success. "Having bound his brows with a colored cap, leaning on a stick and with white hair falling around his temples, he assumed the shape of an old woman and entered the well-cultivated gardens."[73] After praising the fruit and flowers, the pretended old woman began to ask Pomona why she had persistently remained unwed, and told her how foolish it was to fly from love. Much to the surprise of Vertumnus, the maiden seemed to receive this advice very kindly; and when he went on to speak of a certain youthful god who had long sought her love, he was delighted at gaining the confession from Pomona that she might be willing to listen to Vertumnus if he came to woo. At this admission the bold lover threw off his disguise, and claimed the fulfillment of the maiden's promise.