This hopeless occupation, without a moment's
respite, for an hour or more; nothing would induce it to proceed a step
further; it had plainly made up its mind to find shelter here from the
burning rays, or die. And of shelter there was none.
What would not this pig (I now thought) have given to be transported
into the lizard's cool aquatic paradise; and the lizard, into that
scorching sunlight!...
It was not to muse upon the miseries of the animal creation that I have
revisited these shores. I came to puzzle once more over the site of that
far-famed Athene temple which gave its name to the whole promontory.
Now, after again traversing the ground with infinite pleasure, I fail to
find any reason for changing what I wrote years ago in a certain
pamphlet which some scholar, glancing through these pages and anxious to
explore for himself a spot of such celebrity in ancient days, is so
little likely to see that he may not be sorry if I here recapitulate its
arguments. Others will be well advised to pass over what follows.
Let me begin by saying that the temple, in every probability, stood at
the Punta Campanella facing Capri, the actual headland of the Sorrentine
peninsula, where - apart from every other kind of evidence - you may pick
up to this day small terra-cotta figures of Athene, made presumably to
be carried away as keepsakes by visitors to the shrine.
Now for alternative suggestions.
Strabo tells us that the temple was placed on the akron of the
promontory; that is, the summit of Mount San Costanzo where we are now
standing. (He elsewhere describes it as being "on the straits.") This
summit is nearly 500 metres above the sea-level, and here no antique
building seems ever to have been erected. No traces of old life are
visible save some fragments of Roman pottery which may have found their
way up in early Byzantine days, even as modern worshippers carry up the
ephemeral vessels popularly called "caccavelle" [18] and scatter them
about. With the exception of one fragment of white Pentelic marble, no
materials of an early period have been incorporated into the masonry of
the little chapel or the walls of the fields below. It is incredible
that no vestige of a structure like the Athene temple should remain on a
spot of this kind, so favourably situated as regards immunity from
depredations, owing to its isolated and exalted position. The
rock-surface around the summit has not undergone that artificial
levelling which an edifice of this importance would necessitate; the
terrace is of mediaeval construction, as can be seen by its supporting
walls. No doubt the venerable Christian sanctuary there has been
frequently repaired and modified; on the terrace-level to the south can
be seen the foundations of an earlier chapel, and the slopes are
littered with broken bricks, Sorrentine tufa, and old battuto floors.
But there is no trace of antique workmanship or material, nor has the
rocky path leading up to the shrine been demarcated with chisel-cuts in
the ancient fashion. The sister-summit of La Croce is equally
unproductive of classical relics.
We must therefore conclude that Strabo was mistaken. And why not? His
accounts of many parts of the Roman world are surprisingly accurate,
but, according to Professor Pais, "of Italy Strabo seems to have known
merely the road which leads from Brindisi to Rome, the road between Rome
and Naples and Pozzuoli, and the coast of Etruria between Rome and
Populonia." If so, he probably saw no more of the district than can be
seen from Naples. He attributes the foundation of this Athene temple to
Odysseus: statements of such a kind make one wonder whether the earlier
portions of his lost history were more critical than other old treatises
which have survived.
So much for Strabo.
Seduced by a modern name, which means nothing more or less than "a
temple" - strong evidence, surely - I was inclined to locate the Athene
shrine at a spot called Ierate (marked also as Ieranto on some maps, and
popularly pronounced Ghierate the Greek aspirate still surviving) which
lies a mile or more eastwards of the Punta Campanella and faces south.
"Hieron," I thought: that settles it. You may guess I was not a little
proud of this discovery, particularly when it turned out that an ancient
building actually did stand there - on the southern slope, namely, of the
miniature peninsula which juts into Ierate bay. Here I found fragments
of antique bricks, tegulae bipedales, amphoras, pottery of the lustrous
Sorrentine ware - Surrentina bibis? - pavements of opus signinum, as well
as one large Roman paving flag of the type that is found on the road
between Termini and Punta Campanella. (How came this stone here? Did the
old road from Stabiae Athene temple go round the promontory and continue
as far as Ierate along the southern slope of San Costanzo hill? No road
could pass there now; deforestation has denuded the mountain-side of its
soil, laying bare the grey rock - a condition at which its mediaeval name
of Mons Canutarius already hints.) Well, a more careful examination of
the site has convinced me that I was wrong. No temple of this
magnificence can have stood here, but only a Roman villa - one of the
many pleasure-houses which dotted these shores under the Empire.
So much for myself.
PEUTINGER'S CHART
Showing ancient road rounding the headland
and terminating at "Templum Minervae."
None the less - and this is a really curious point - an inspection of
Peutinger's Tables seems to bear out my original theory of a temple at
Ierate. For the structure is therein marked not at the Punta Campanella
but, approximately, at Ierate itself, facing south, with the road from
Stabiae over Surrentum rounding the promontory and terminating at the
temple's threshold.
