In the mean time, however, setting out from the day, whatever it may

happen to be, on which the west winds begin to prevail (for it is not

always on the seventh before the ides of February[471] that they do

begin), whether, in fact, they begin to blow before the usual time, as

is the case with an early spring, or whether after, which generally

happens when the winter is prolonged—there are subjects innumerable to

engage the attention of the agriculturist, and those, of course, should

be the first attended to, which will admit of no delay. Three month

wheat must now be sown, the vine pruned in the way we have already[472]

described, the olive carefully attended to, fruit-trees put in and

grafted, vineyards cleaned and hoed, seedlings laid out, and replaced

in the nursery by others, the reed, the willow, and the broom planted

and lopped, and the elm, the poplar, and the plane planted in manner

already mentioned. At this period, also, the crops of corn ought to

be weeded,[473] and the winter kinds, spelt more particularly, well

hoed. In doing this, there is a certain rule to be observed, the proper

moment being when four blades have made their appearance, and with the

bean this should never be done until three leaves have appeared above

ground; even then, however, it is a better plan to clean them only with

a slight hoeing, in preference to digging up the ground—but in no case

should they ever be touched the first fifteen days of their blossom.

Barley must never be hoed except when it is quite dry: take care, too,

to have all the pruning done by the vernal equinox. Four men will be

sufficient for pruning a jugerum of vineyard, and each hand will be

able to train fifteen vines to their trees.[474]

At this period, too, attention should be paid to the gardens and

rose-beds, subjects which will be separately treated of in succeeding

Books; due care should be given to ornamental gardening as well. It is

now, too, the very best time for making ditches. The ground should now

be opened for future purposes, as we find recommended by Virgil[475]

in particular, in order that the sun may thoroughly warm the clods. It

is a piece of even more sound advice, which recommends us to plough no

lands in the middle of spring but those of middling quality; for if

this is done with a rich soil, weeds will be sure to spring up in the

furrows immediately; and if, on the other hand, it is a thin, meagre

land, as soon as the heat comes on, it will be dried up, and so lose

all the moisture which should be reserved to nourish the seed when

sown. It is a much better plan, beyond a doubt, to plough such soils as

these in autumn.

Cato[476] lays down the following rules for the operations of spring.

“Ditches,” he says, “should be dug in the seed-plots, vines should be

grafted, and the elm, the fig, the olive, and other fruit-trees planted

in dense and humid soils. Such meadows[477] as are not irrigated,

must be manured in a dry moon, protected from the western blasts, and

carefully cleaned: noxious weeds must be rooted up, fig-trees cleared,

new seed-plots made, and the old ones dressed: all this should be done

before you begin to hoe the vineyard. When the pear is in blossom, too,

you should begin to plough, where it is a meagre gravelly soil. When

you have done all this, you may plough the more heavy, watery soils,

doing this the last of all.”

The proper time for ploughing, then,[478] is denoted by these two

signs, the earliest fruit of the lentisk[479] making its appearance,

and the blossoming of the pear. There is a third sign however, as

well, the flowering of the squill among the bulbous,[480] and of the

narcissus among the garland, plants. For both the squill and the

narcissus, as well as the lentisk, flower three times, denoting by

their first flowering the first period for ploughing, by the second

flowering the second, and by the third flowering the last; in this

way it is that one thing affords hints for another. There is one

precaution, too, that is by no means the least important among them

all, not to let ivy touch the bean while in blossom; for at this

period the ivy is noxious[481] to it, and most baneful in its effects.

Some plants, again afford certain signs which bear reference more

particularly to themselves, the fig for instance; when a few leaves

only are found shooting from the summit, like a cup in shape, then it

is more particularly that the fig-tree should be planted.

CHAP. 66.—WORK TO BE DONE AFTER THE VERNAL EQUINOX.

The vernal equinox appears to end on the eighth[482] day before the

calends of April. Between the equinox and the morning rising of the

Vergiliæ, the calends[483] of April announce, according to Cæsar,

[stormy weather].[484] Upon the third[485] before the nones of April,

the Vergiliæ set in the evening in Attica, and the day after in

Bœotia, but according to Cæsar and the Chaldæans, upon the nones.[486]

In Egypt, at this time, Orion and his Sword begin to set. According

to Cæsar, the setting of Libra on the sixth before[487] the ides of

April announces rain. On the fourteenth before[488] the calends of

May, the Suculæ set to the people of Egypt in the evening, a stormy

constellation, and significant of tempests both by land and sea.

This constellation sets on the sixteenth[489] in Attica, and on the

fifteenth, according to Cæsar, announcing four days of bad weather in

succession: in Assyria it sets upon the twelfth[490] before the calends

of May. This constellation has ordinarily the name of Parilicium,

from the circumstance that the eleventh[491] before the calends of

May is observed as the natal day of the City of Rome; upon this day,

too, fine weather generally returns, and gives us a clear sky for our

observations. The Greeks call the Suculæ by the name of “Hyades,”[492]

in consequence of the rain and clouds which they bring with them;

while our people, misled by the resemblance of the Greek name to

another word[493] of theirs, meaning a “pig,” have imagined that the

constellation receives its name from that word, and have consequently

given it, in their ignorance, the name of “Suculæ,” or the “Little

Pigs.”

In the calculations made by Cæsar, the eighth[494] before the calends

of May is a day remarked, and on the seventh[495] before the calends,

the constellation of the Kids rises in Egypt. On the sixth before[496]

the calends, the Dog sets in the evening in Bœotia and Attica, and the

Lyre rises in the morning. On the fifth[497] before the calends of May,

Orion has wholly set to the people of Assyria, and on the fourth[498]

before the calends the Dog. On the sixth before[499] the nones of May,

the Suculæ rise in the morning, according to the calculation of Cæsar,

and on the eighth before[500] the ides, the She-goat, which announces

rain. In Egypt the Dog sets in the evening of the same day. Such are

pretty nearly the movements of the constellations up to the sixth

before[501] the ides of May, the period of the rising of the Vergiliæ.

In this interval of time, during the first fifteen days, the

agriculturist must make haste and do all the work for which he has not

been able to find time before the vernal equinox; and he should bear

in mind that those who are late in pruning their vines are exposed

to jibes and taunts, in imitation of the note of the bird of passage

known to us as the cuckoo.[502] For it is looked upon as a disgrace,

and one that subjects him to well-merited censure, for that bird, upon

its arrival, to find him only then pruning his vines. Hence it is,

too, that we find those cutting jokes,[503] of which our peasantry are

the object, at the beginning of spring. Still, however, all such jokes

are to be looked upon as most abominable, from the ill omens[504] they

convey.

In this way, then, we see that, in agricultural operations, the most

trifling things are construed as so many hints supplied us by Nature.

The latter part of this period is the proper time for sowing panic

and millet; the precise moment, however, is just after the barley has

ripened. In the case of the very same land, too, there is one sign that

points in common both to the ripening of the barley and the sowing of

panic and millet—the appearance of the glow-worm, shining in the fields

at night. “Cicindelæ”[505] is the name given by the country people to

these flying stars, while the Greeks call them “lampyrides,”—another

manifestation of the incredible bounteousness of Nature.

CHAP. 67. (27.)—WORK TO BE DONE AFTER THE RISING OF THE VERGILIÆ:

HAY-MAKING.

Nature had already formed the Vergiliæ, a noble group of stars, in the

heavens; but not content with these, she has made others as well for

the face of the earth, crying aloud, as it were:[506] “Why contemplate

the heavens, husbandman? Why, rustic, look up at the stars? Do not the

nights already afford you a sleep too brief for your fatigues? Behold

now! I scatter stars amid the grass for your service, and I reveal them

to you in the evening, as you return from your work; and that you may

not disregard them, I call your attention to this marvel. Do you not

see how the wings of this insect cover a body bright and shining like

fire, and how that body gives out light in the hours of the night even?

I have given you plants to point out to you the hours, and, that you

may not have to turn your eyes from the earth, even to view the sun,

the heliotropium and the lupine have been made by me to move with his

movements. Why then still look upwards, and scan the face of heaven?

Behold, here before your very feet are your Vergiliæ; upon a certain

day do they make their appearance, and for a certain time do they stay.

Equally certain, too, it is that of that constellation they are the

offspring. Whoever, then, shall put in his summer seeds before they

have made their appearance, will infallibly find himself in the wrong.”

It is in this interval, too, that the little bee comes forth, and

announces that the bean is about to blossom; for it is the bean

in flower that summons it forth. We will here give another sign,

which tells us when the cold is gone; as soon as ever you see the

mulberry[507] in bud, you have no occasion to fear any injury from the

rigour of the weather.

It is the time, now, to put in cuttings of the olive, to clear away

between the olive-trees, and, in the earlier days of the equinox, to

irrigate the meadows. As soon, however, as the grass puts forth a

stem, you must shut off the water from the fields.[508] You must now

lop the leafy branches of the vine, it being the rule that this should

be done as soon as the branches have attained four fingers in length;

one labourer will be sufficient for a jugerum. The crops of corn, too,

should be hoed over again, an operation which lasts twenty days. It is

generally thought, however, that it is injurious to both vine and corn

to begin hoeing directly after the equinox. This is the proper time,

too, for washing sheep.

After the rising of the Vergiliæ the more remarkable signs are,

according to Cæsar, the morning rising of Arcturus, which takes

place on the following day;[509] and the rising of the Lyre on the

third[510] before the ides of May. The She-goat sets in the evening of

the twelfth before[511] the calends of June, and in Attica the Dog.

On the eleventh[512] before the calends of June, according to Cæsar,

Orion’s Sword begins to appear; and, according to the same writer,

on the fourth[513] before the nones of June the Eagle rises in the

evening, and in Assyria as well. On the seventh[514] before the ides

of June Arcturus sets in the morning to the people of Italy, and on

the fourth[515] before the ides the Dolphin rises in the evening. On

the seventeenth[516] before the calends of July Orion’s Sword rises in

Italy, and, four days later, in Egypt. On the eleventh[517] before the

calends of July, according to Cæsar’s reckoning, Orion’s Sword begins

to set; and the eighth[518] before the calends of July, the longest day

in the year, with the shortest night, brings us to the summer solstice.

In this interval of time the vine should be cleared of its superfluous

branches, and care taken to give an old vine one turning up at the

roots, a young tree two. Sheep, too, are sheared at this period,

lupines turned up for manuring the land, the ground dug, vetches cut

for fodder, and beans gathered in and threshed.

(28.) About the calends of June[519] the meadows are mown; the

cultivation of which, the one which is the easiest of all, and

requires the smallest outlay, leads me to enter into some further

details relative to it. Meadow lands should be selected in a rich,

or else a moist or well-watered, soil, and care should be taken to

drain the rain-water upon them from the high-road. The best method

of ensuring a good crop of grass, is first to plough the land, and

then to harrow it: but, before passing the harrow over it, the ground

should be sprinkled with such seed as may have fallen from the hay in

the hay-lofts and mangers. The land should not be watered, however,

the first year,[520] nor should cattle be put to graze upon it before

the second hay-harvest, for fear lest the blade should be torn up by

the roots, or be trodden down and stunted in its growth. Meadow land

will grow old in time, and it requires to be renovated every now and

then, by sowing upon it a crop of beans, or else rape or millet, after

which it should be sown the next year with corn, and then left for hay

the third. Care, too, should be taken, every time the grass is cut, to

pass the sickle over the ground, and so cut the aftermath which the

mowers have left behind; for it is a very bad plan to leave any of the

grass and let it shed its seed there. The best crop for meadow land is

trefoil,[521] and the next best is grass;[522] nummulus[523] is the

very worst of all, as it bears a pod which is particularly injurious;

equisætis,[524] too, which derives its name from its resemblance to

horse-hair, is of a noxious character. The proper time for mowing grass

is when the ear begins to shed its blossom and to grow strong: care

must be taken to cut it before it becomes dry and parched. “Don’t mow

your hay too late,” says Cato;[525] “but cut it before the seed is

ripe.” Some persons turn the water upon it the day before mowing, where

it is practicable to do so. It is the best plan to cut hay in the night

while the dews are falling.[526] In some parts of Italy the mowing is

not done till after harvest.

This operation, too, was a very expensive one in ancient times. In

those days the only whetstones[527] known were those of Crete and other

places beyond sea, and they only used oil to sharpen the scythe with.

For this purpose the mower moved along, with a horn, to hold the oil,

fastened to his thigh. Italy has since furnished us with whetstones

which are used with water, and give an edge to the iron quite equal

to that imparted by the file; these water-whetstones, however, turn

green very quickly. Of the scythe[528] there are two varieties; the

Italian,[529] which is considerably shorter than the other, and can

be handled among underwood even; and the Gallic, which makes quicker

work[530] of it, when employed on extensive domains, for there they

cut the grass in the middle only, and pass over the shorter blades.

The Italian mowers cut with one hand only. It is a fair day’s work

for one man to cut a jugerum of grass, and for another to bind twelve

hundred sheaves of four pounds each. When the grass is cut it should

be turned towards the sun, and must never be stacked until it is quite

dry. If this last precaution is not carefully taken, a kind of vapour

will be seen arising from the rick in the morning, and as soon as the

sun is up it will ignite to a certainty, and so be consumed. When

the grass has been cut, the meadow must be irrigated again, for the

purpose of ensuring a crop in the autumn, known to us as the “cordum,”

or aftermath. At Interamna in Umbria the grass is cut four times[531]

a-year, and this although the meadows there are not irrigated,—in most

places, three. After all this has been done, too, the pasturage of the

land is found no less lucrative than the hay it has produced. This,

however, is a matter of consideration for those more particularly who

rear large herds of cattle, and every one whose occupation it is to

breed beasts of burden, will have his own opinions upon the subject: it

is found, however, the most lucrative of all by those whose business it

is to train chariot-horses.

CHAP. 68.—THE SUMMER SOLSTICE.

We have already stated[532] that the summer solstice arrives at the

eighth degree of Cancer, and upon the eighth day before[533] the

calends of July: this is an important crisis in the year, and of great

interest to the whole earth. Up to this period from the time of the

winter solstice the days have gone on increasing, and the sun has

continued for six months making his ascension towards the north; having

now surmounted the heights of the heavens, at this point he reaches the

goal, and after doing so, commences his return towards the south; the

consequence of which is, that for the next six months he increases the

nights and subtracts from the length of the days. From this period,

then, it is the proper time to gather in and store away the various

crops in succession, and so make all due preparations for the rigour

and severity of the winter.

It was only to be expected that Nature should point out to us the

moment of this change by certain signs of an indubitable character;

and she has accordingly placed them beneath the very hands of the

agriculturist, bidding the leaves turn round[534] upon that day, and

so denote that the luminary has now run its course. And it is not the

leaves of trees only that are wild and far remote that do this, nor

have those persons who are on the look-out for these signs to go into

devious forests and mountain tracts to seek them. Nor yet, on the other

hand, are they to be seen in the leaves of trees only that are grown

in the vicinity of cities or reared by the hand of the ornamental

gardener, although in them they are to be seen as well. Nature upon

this occasion turns the leaf of the olive which meets us at every

step; she turns the leaf of the linden, sought by us, as it is, for a

thousand purposes; she turns the leaf of the white poplar, too, wedded

to the vine that grows upon its trunk. And still, for her, all this

is not enough. “You have the elm,” she says, “reared for the support

of the vine, and the leaf of that I will make to turn as well. The

leaves of this tree you have to gather for fodder, the leaves of the

vine you prune away. Only look upon them, and there you behold the

solstice;[535] they are now pointing towards a quarter of the heavens

the reverse of that towards which they looked the day before. The

twigs of the withy, that most lowly of trees, you employ for tying

things without number. You are a head taller than it—I will make its

leaves to turn round as well. Why complain, then, that you are but a

rustic peasant? It shall be no fault of mine if you do not understand

the heavens and become acquainted with the movements of the celestial

bodies. I will give another sign, too, that shall address itself to

your ear—only listen for the cooing of the ring-doves; and beware

of supposing that the summer solstice is past, until you see the

wood-pigeon sitting on her eggs.”

Between the summer solstice and the setting of the Lyre, on the sixth

day before the calends of July,[536] according to Cæsar’s reckoning,

Orion rises, and upon the fourth[537] before the nones of July, his

Belt rises to the people of Assyria. Upon the morning of the same

day, also, the scorching constellation of Procyon rises. This last

constellation has no name with the Romans, unless, indeed, we would

consider it as identical with Canicula,[538] or Lesser Dog, which we

find depicted among the stars; this last is productive of excessive

heat, as we shall shortly have further occasion to state. On the

fourth[539] before the nones of July, the Crown sets in the morning to

the people of Chaldæa, and in Attica, the whole of Orion has risen by

that day. On the day before[540] the ides of July, the rising of Orion

ends to the Egyptians also; on the sixteenth[541] before the calends

of August, Procyon rises to the people of Assyria, and, the day but

one after, of nearly all other countries as well, indicating a crisis

that is universally known among all nations, and which by us is called

the rising of the Dog-star; the sun at this period entering the first

degree of Leo. The Dog-star rises on the twenty-third day after the

summer solstice; the influence of it is felt by both ocean, and earth,

and even by many of the animals as well, as stated by us elsewhere on

the appropriate occasions.[542] No less veneration, in fact, is paid

to this star, than to those that are consecrated to certain gods; it

kindles the flames of the sun, and is one great source of the heats of

summer.

On the thirteenth[543] day before the calends of August, the Eagle

sets in the morning to the people of Egypt, and the breezes that are

the precursors of the Etesian winds, begin to blow; these, according

to Cæsar, are first perceived in Italy, on the tenth before[544] the

calends of August. The Eagle sets in the morning of that day to the

people of Attica, and on the third before[545] the calends of August,

the Royal Star in the breast of Leo rises in the morning, according

to Cæsar. On the eighth before[546] the ides of August, one half of

Arcturus has ceased to be visible, and on the third before[547] the

ides the Lyre, by its setting, opens the autumn,—according to Cæsar at

least; though a more exact calculation has since shown, that this takes

place on the sixth day before[548] the ides of that month.

The time that intervenes between these periods is one that is of

primary importance in the cultivation of the vine; as the constellation

of which we have spoken, under the name of Canicula, has now to decide

upon the fate of the grape. It is at this period that the grapes are

said to be charred,[549] a blight falling upon them which burns them

away, as though red-hot coals had been applied to them. There is no

hail that can be compared with this destructive malady, nor yet any

of those tempests, which have been productive of such scarcity and

dearth. For the evil effects of these, at the very utmost, are only

felt in isolated districts, while the coal blight,[550] on the other

hand, extends over whole countries, far and wide. Still, however,

the remedy would not be very difficult, were it not that men would

much rather calumniate Nature, than help themselves. It is said that

Democritus,[551] who was the first to comprehend and demonstrate that

close affinity which exists between the heavens and the earth, finding

his laborious researches upon that subject slighted by the more opulent

of his fellow-citizens, and presaging the high price of oil, which was

about to result upon the rising of the Vergiliæ, (as we have already

mentioned,[552] and shall have to explain more fully hereafter), bought

up all the oil in the country, which was then at a very low figure,

from the universal expectation of a fine crop of olives; a proceeding

which greatly surprised all who knew that a life of poverty and

learned repose was so entirely the object of his aspirations. When,

however, his motives had been fully justified by the result, and vast

riches had flowed in upon him apace, he returned all his profits to

the disappointed proprietors, whose avarice had now taught them to

repent, thinking it quite sufficient to have thus proved how easy it

was for him to acquire riches whenever he pleased. At a more recent

period, again, Sextius,[553] a Roman philosopher residing at Athens,

made a similar application of his knowledge. Such, then, is the utility

of science, the instruction provided by which it shall be my aim, as

clearly and as perspicuously as possible, to apply to the various

occupations of a country life.

Most writers have said that it is the dew, scorched by a burning

sun, that is the cause of mildew[554] in corn, and of coal blight in

the vine; this, however, seems to me in a great measure incorrect,

and it is my opinion that all blights result entirely from cold, and

that the sun is productive of no injurious effects whatever. This, in

fact, will be quite evident, if only a little attention is paid to the

subject; for we find that the blight makes its appearance at first in

the night time only, and before the sun has shone with any vigour. The

natural inference is, that it depends entirely upon the moon, and more

particularly as such a calamity as this is never known to happen except

at the moon’s conjunction, or else at the full moon, periods at which

the influence of that heavenly body is at its greatest height. For at

both of these periods, as already[555] stated by us more than once,

the moon is in reality at the full; though during her conjunction she

throws back to the heavens all the light which she has received from

the sun. The difference in the effects produced by the moon at these

two periods is very great, though at the same time equally apparent;

for at the conjunction, that body is extremely hot in summer, but cold

in winter; while, on the other hand, at the full moon, the nights

are cold in summer, but warm in winter. The reason of this, although

Fabianus and the Greek writers adopt another method of explaining it,

is quite evident. During the moon’s conjunction in summer, she must

of necessity move along with the sun in an orbit nearer to the earth,

and so become warmed by the heat which she receives by reason of

her closer vicinity to the sun. In winter, again, at the time of the

conjunction, she is farther off from us, the sun being also removed to

a greater distance. On the other hand, again, when the moon is at the

full in summer, she is more remote from the earth, and in opposition

with the sun; while, in winter, she approaches nearer to us at that

period, by adopting the same orbit as at her conjunction in summer.

Naturally humid herself, as often as from her position she is cold, she

congeals to an unlimited extent the dews which fall at that period of

the year.

CHAP. 69.—CAUSES OF STERILITY.

But we ought always to bear in mind, more particularly, that there

are two varieties of evils that are inflicted upon the earth by the

heavens. The first of these, known by us under the name of “tempests,”

comprehends hail-storms, hurricanes and other calamities of a similar

nature; when these take place at the full moon, they come upon us with

additional intensity. These tempests take their rise in certain noxious

constellations, as already stated by us on several occasions, Arcturus,

for instance, Orion, and the Kids.

The other evils that are thus inflicted upon us, supervene with a

bright, clear sky, and amid the silence of the night, no one being

sensible of them until we have perceived their effects. These

dispensations are universal and of a totally different character from

those previously mentioned, and have various names given to them,

sometimes mildew, sometimes blast, and sometimes coal blight; but in

all cases sterility is the infallible result. It is of these last that

we have now to speak, entering into details which have not hitherto

been treated of by any writer; and first of all we will explain the

causes of them.

(29.) Independently of the moon, there are two principal causes of

these calamities, which emanate more particularly from two quarters

of the heavens of but limited extent. On the one hand, the Vergiliæ

exercise an especial influence on our harvests, as it is with their

rising that the summer begins, and with their setting, the winter;

thus embracing, in the space of six months, the harvest, the vintage,

and the ripening of all the vegetable productions. In addition to

this, there is a circular tract in the heavens, quite visible to the

human eye even, known as the Milky Way. It is the emanations from

this, flowing as it were from the breast, that supply their milky[556]

nutriment to all branches of the vegetable world. Two constellations

more particularly mark this circular tract, the Eagle in the north, and

Canicula in the south; of this last, we have already made mention[557]

in its appropriate place. This circle traverses also Sagittarius and

Gemini, and passing through the centre of the sun, cuts the equinoctial

line below, the constellation of the Eagle making its appearance at

the point of intersection on the one side, and Canicula on the other.

Hence it is that the influences of both these constellations develope

themselves upon all cultivated lands; it being at these points only

that the centre of the sun is brought to correspond with that of the

earth. If, then, at the moments of the rising and the setting of these

constellations, the air, soft and pure, transmits these genial and

milky emanations to the earth, the crops will thrive and ripen apace;

but if, on the other hand, the moon, as already[558] mentioned, sheds

her chilling dews, the bitterness thereof infuses itself into these

milky secretions, and so kills the vegetation in its birth. The measure

of the injury so inflicted on the earth depends, in each climate, upon

the combination of the one or other of these causes; and hence it is

that it is not felt in equal intensity throughout the whole earth, nor

even precisely at the same moment of time. We have already[559] said

that the Eagle rises in Italy on the thirteenth day[560] before the

calends of January, and the ordinary course of Nature does not permit

us before that period to reckon with any degree of certainty upon the

fruits of the earth; for if the moon should happen to be in conjunction

at that time, it will be a necessary consequence, that all the winter

fruits, as well as the early ones, will receive injury more or less.

The life led by the ancients was rude and illiterate; still, as will

be readily seen, the observations they made were not less remarkable

for ingenuity than are the theories of the present day. With them there

were three set periods for gathering in the produce of the earth, and

it was in honour of these periods that they instituted the festive

days, known as the Robigalia,[561] the Floralia, and the Vinalia. The

Robigalia were established by Numa in the fortieth year of his reign,

and are still celebrated on the seventh day before the calends of

May, as it is at this period that mildew[562] mostly makes its first

attacks upon the growing corn. Varro fixes this crisis at the moment

at which the sun enters the tenth degree of Taurus, in accordance

with the notions that prevailed in his day: but the real cause is the

fact, that thirty-one[563] days after the vernal equinox, according

to the observations of various nations, the Dog-star sets between

the seventh and fourth before the calends of May, a constellation

baneful in itself, and to appease which a young dog should first be

sacrificed.[564] The same people also, in the year of the City 513,

instituted the Floralia, a festival held upon the fourth before[565]

the calends of May, in accordance with the oracular injunctions of the

Sibyl, to secure a favourable season for the blossoms and flowers.

Varro fixes this day as the time at which the sun enters the fourteenth

degree of Taurus. If there should happen to be a full moon during

the four days at this period, injury to the corn and all the plants

that are in blossom, will be the necessary result. The First Vinalia,

which in ancient times were established on the ninth before[566] the

calends of May, for the purpose of tasting[567] the wines, have no

signification whatever in reference to the fruits of the earth, any

more than the festivals already mentioned have in reference to the

vine and the olive; the germination of these last not commencing, in

fact, till the rising of the Vergiliæ, on the Sixth day before[568] the

ides of May, as already mentioned on previous occasions.[569] This,

again, is another period of four days, which should never be blemished

by dews, as the chilling constellation of Arcturus, which sets on the

following day, will be sure to nip the vegetation; still less ought

there to be a full moon at this period.

On the fourth before[570] the nones of June, the Eagle rises again in

the evening, a critical day for the olives and vines in blossom, if

there should happen to be a full moon. For my part, I am of opinion

that the eighth[571] before the calends of July, the day of the

summer solstice, must be a critical day, for a similar reason; and

that the rising of the Dog-star, twenty-three days after the summer

solstice, must be so too, in case the moon is then in conjunction; for

the excessive heat is productive of injurious effects, and the grape

becomes prematurely ripened, shrivelled, and tough. Again, if there is

a full moon on the fourth before[572] the nones of July, when Canicula

rises to the people of Egypt, or at least on the sixteenth before[573]

the calends of August, when it rises in Italy, it is productive of

injurious results. The same is the case, too, from the thirteenth day

before[574] the calends of August, when the Eagle sets, to the tenth

before[575] the calends of that month. The Second Vinalia, which are

celebrated on the fourteenth[576] before the calends of September, bear

no reference to these influences. Varro fixes them at the period at

which the Lyre begins its morning setting, and says that this indicates

the beginning of autumn, the day having been set apart for the purpose

of propitiating the weather: at the present day, however, it is

observed that the Lyre sets on the sixth before[577] the ides of August.

Within these periods there are exerted the sterilizing influences of

the heavens, though I am far from denying that they may be considerably

modified by the nature of the locality, according as it is cold or

hot. Still, however, it is sufficient for me to have demonstrated

the theory; the modifications of its results depending, in a great

degree, upon attentive observation. It is beyond all question too,

that either one of these two causes will be always productive of

its own peculiar effects, the full moon, I mean, or else the moon’s

conjunction. And here it suggests itself how greatly we ought to admire

the bounteous provisions made for us by Nature; for, in the first

place, these calamitous results cannot by any possibility befall us

every year, in consequence of the fixed revolutions of the stars; nor

indeed, when they do happen, beyond a few nights in the year, and it

may be easily known beforehand which nights those are likely to be.

In order, too, that we might not have to apprehend these injuries to

vegetation in all the months, Nature has so ordained that the times

of the moon’s conjunction in summer, and of the full moon in winter,

with the exception of two days only at those respective periods, are

well ascertained, and that there is no danger to be apprehended on any

but the nights of summer, and those nights the shortest of all; in

the day-time, on the other hand, there is nothing to fear. And then,

besides, these phænomena may be so easily understood, that the ant

even, that most diminutive of insects, takes its rest during the moon’s

conjunction, but toils on, and that during the night as well, when the

moon is at the full; the bird, too, called the “parra”[578] disappears

upon the day on which Sirius rises, and never reappears until that

star has set; while the witwall,[579] on the other hand, makes its

appearance on the day of the summer solstice. The moon, however, is

productive of no noxious effects at either of these periods, except

when the nights are clear, and every movement of the air is lulled; for

so long as clouds prevail, or the wind is blowing, the night dews never

fall. And then, besides, there are certain remedies to counteract these

noxious influences.

CHAP. 70.—REMEDIES AGAINST THESE NOXIOUS INFLUENCES.

When you have reason to fear these influences, make bonfires in the

fields and vineyards of cuttings or heaps of chaff, or else of the

weeds that have been rooted up; the smoke[580] will act as a good

preservative. The smoke, too, of burning chaff will be an effectual

protection against the effects of fogs, when likely to be injurious.

Some persons recommend that three crabs should be burnt[581] alive

among the trees on which the vines are trained, to prevent these from

being attacked by coal blight; while others say that the flesh of the

silurus[582] should be burnt in a slow fire, in such a way that the

smoke may be dispersed by the wind throughout the vineyard.

Varro informs us, that if at the setting of the Lyre, which is the

beginning of autumn, a painted grape[583] is consecrated in the midst

of the vineyard, the bad weather will not be productive of such

disastrous results as it otherwise would. Archibius[584] has stated, in

a letter to Antiochus, king of Syria, that if a bramble-frog[585] is

buried in a new earthen vessel, in the middle of a corn-field, there

will be no storms to cause injury.

CHAP. 71.—WORK TO BE DONE AFTER THE SUMMER SOLSTICE.

The following are the rural occupations for this interval of time—the

ground must have another turning up, and the trees must be cleared

about the roots and moulded up, where the heat of the locality requires

it. Those plants, however, which are in bud must not be spaded at the

roots, except where the soil is particularly rich. The seed-plots, too,

must be well cleared with the hoe, the barley-harvest got in, and the

threshing-floor prepared for the harvest with chalk, as Cato[586] tells

us, slackened with amurca of olives; Virgil[587] makes mention of a

method still more laborious even. In general, however, it is considered

sufficient to make it perfectly level, and then to cover it with a

solution of cow-dung[588] and water; this being thought sufficient to

prevent the dust from rising.

CHAP. 72. (30.)—THE HARVEST.

The mode of getting in the harvest varies considerably. In the vast

domains of the provinces of Gaul a large hollow frame,[589] armed with

teeth and supported on two wheels, is driven through the standing corn,

the beasts being yoked[590] behind it; the result being, that the ears

are torn off and fall within the frame. In other countries the stalks

are cut with the sickle in the middle, and the ears are separated by

the aid of paddle-forks.[591] In some places, again, the corn is torn

up by the roots; and it is asserted by those who adopt this plan,

that it is as good as a light turning up for the ground, whereas, in

reality, they deprive it of its juices.[592] There are differences in

other respects also: in places where they thatch their houses with

straw, they keep the longest haulms for that purpose; and where hay is

scarce, they employ the straw for litter. The straw of panic is never

used for thatching, and that of millet is mostly burnt; barley-straw,

however, is always preserved, as being the most agreeable of all as a

food for oxen. In the Gallic provinces panic and millet are gathered,

ear by ear, with the aid of a comb carried in the hand.

In some places the corn is beaten out by machines[593] upon the

threshing-floor, in others by the feet of mares, and in others with

flails. The later wheat is cut, the more prolific[594] it is; but if

it is got in early, the grain is finer and stronger. The best rule

is to cut it before the grain hardens, and just as it is changing

colour:[595] though the oracles on husbandry say that it is better to

begin the harvest two days too soon than two days too late. Winter

and other wheat must be treated exactly the same way both on the

threshing-floor and in the granary. Spelt, as it is difficult to be

threshed, should be stored with the chaff on, being only disengaged of

the straw and the beard.

Many countries make use of chaff[596] for hay; the smoother and

thinner it is, and the more nearly resembling dust, the better; hence

it is that the chaff[597] of millet is considered the best, that

of barley being the next best, and that of wheat the worst of all,

except for beasts that are hard worked. In stony places they break the

haulms, when dry, with staves, for the cattle to lie upon: if there

is a deficiency of chaff, the straw as well is ground for food. The

following is the method employed in preparing it: it is cut early and

sprinkled with bay salt,[598] after which it is dried and rolled up in

trusses, and given to the oxen as wanted, instead of hay. Some persons

set fire to the stubble in the fields, a plan that has been greatly

extolled by Virgil:[599] the chief merit of it is that the seed of the

weeds is effectually destroyed. The diversity of the methods employed

in harvesting mainly depends upon the extent of the crops and the price

of labour.

CHAP. 73.—THE METHODS OF STORING CORN.

Connected with this branch of our subject is the method of storing

corn. Some persons recommend that granaries should be built for the

purpose at considerable expense, the walls being made of brick, and

not less than three[600] feet thick; the corn, they say, should be

let in from above, the air being carefully excluded, and no windows

allowed. Others, again, say that the granary should have an aspect in

no direction but the north-east or north, and that the walls should be

built without lime, that substance being extremely injurious[601] to

corn; as to what we find recommended in reference to amurca of olives,

we have already mentioned it on a former[602] occasion. In some places

they build their granaries of wood, and upon pillars,[603] thinking it

the best plan to leave access for the air on every side, and from below

even. Some persons think, however, that the grain diminishes in bulk if

laid on a floor above the level of the ground, and that it is liable

to ferment beneath a roof of tiles. Many persons say, too, that the

grain should never be stirred up to air[604] it, as the weevil is never

known to penetrate beyond four fingers in depth; consequently, beyond

that depth there is no danger. According to Columella,[605] the west

wind is beneficial to grain, a thing that surprises me, as that wind is

generally a very parching[606] one. Some persons recommend that, before

housing the corn, a bramble-frog should be hung up by one of the hind

legs at the threshold of the granary. To me it appears that the most

important precaution of all is to house the grain at the proper time;

for if it is unripe when cut, and not sufficiently firm, or if it is

got in in a heated state, it follows of necessity that noxious insects

will breed in it.

There are several causes which contribute to the preservation of grain;

the outer[607] coats in some kinds are more numerous, as in millet, for

instance; the juices are of an oleaginous nature,[608] and so supply

ample moisture, as in sesame, for example; while in other kinds, again,

they are naturally bitter,[609] as in the lupine and the chicheling

vetch. It is in wheat more particularly that insects breed, as it is

apt to heat from the density of its juices, and the grain is covered

with a thick bran. In barley the chaff is thinner, and the same is the

case with all the leguminous seeds: it is for this reason that they do

not ordinarily breed insects. The bean, however, is covered with a coat

of a thicker substance; and hence it is that it ferments. Some persons

sprinkle wheat, in order to make it keep the longer, with amurca[610]

of olives, a quadrantal to a thousand modii: others, again, with

powdered Chalcidian or Carian chalk, or with worm-wood.[611] There is

a certain earth found at Olynthus, and at Cerinthus, in Eubœa, which

prevents grain from spoiling. If garnered in the ear, grain is hardly

ever found to suffer any injury.

The best plan, however, of preserving grain, is to lay it up in

trenches, called “siri,” as they do in Cappadocia, Thracia, Spain, and

at * * * in Africa. Particular care is taken to dig these trenches in a

dry soil, and a layer of chaff is then placed at the bottom; the grain,

too, is always stored in the ear. In this case, if no air is allowed

to penetrate to the corn, we may rest assured that no noxious insects

will ever breed in it. Varro[612] says, that wheat, if thus stored,

will keep as long as fifty years, and millet a hundred; and he assures

us that beans and other leguminous grain, if put away in oil jars with

a covering of ashes, will keep for a great length of time. He makes

a statement, also, to the effect that some beans were preserved in a

cavern in Ambracia from the time of King Pyrrhus until the Piratical

War of Pompeius Magnus, a period of about two hundred and twenty years.

The chick-pea is the only grain in which no insect will breed while in

the granary. Some persons place upon the heaps of the leguminous grains

pitchers full of vinegar and coated with pitch, a stratum of ashes

being laid beneath; and they fancy that if this is done, no injury

will happen. Some, again, store them in vessels which have held salted

provisions, with a coating of plaster on the top, while other persons

are in the habit of sprinkling lentils with vinegar scented with

laser,[613] and, when dry, giving them a covering of oil. But the most

effectual method of all is to get in everything that you would preserve

from injury at the time of the moon’s conjunction; and hence it is of

the greatest importance to know, when getting in the harvest, whether

it is for garnering or whether for immediate sale. If cut during the

increase of the moon, grain will increase in size.

CHAP. 74. (31.)—THE VINTAGE, AND THE WORKS OF AUTUMN.

In accordance with the ordinary divisions of the year, we now come to

autumn, a period which extends from the setting of the Lyre to the

autumnal equinox, and from that to the setting of the Vergiliæ and the

beginning of winter. In these intervals, the more important periods

are marked by the rising of the Horse to the people of Attica, in the

evening of the day before[614] the ides of August; upon which day also

the Dolphin sets in Egypt, and, according to Cæsar, in Italy. On the

eleventh[615] before the calends of September, the star called the

Vintager begins to rise in the morning, according to Cæsar’s reckoning,

and to the people of Assyria: it announces the ripening of the vintage,

a sure sign of which is the change of colour in the grape. On the

fifth[616] before the calends of September, the Arrow sets in Assyria,

and the Etesian winds cease to blow: on the nones[617] of September,

the Vintager rises in Egypt, and in the morning of that day, Arcturus

rises to the people of Attica: on the same morning, too, the Arrow

sets. In the fifth before[618] the ides of September, according to

Cæsar, the She-Goat rises in the evening; and one half of Arcturus

becomes visible on the day before[619] the ides of September, being

portentous[620] of boisterous weather for five days, both by land and

sea.

The theory relative to the effects produced by Arcturus, is stated in

the following terms: if showers prevail, it is said, at the setting of

the Dolphin, they will not cease so long as Arcturus is visible. The

departure of the swallows may be looked upon as the sign of the rising

of Arcturus; for if overtaken by it, they are sure to perish.

On the sixteenth day before[621] the calends of October, the Ear of

Corn, which Virgo holds, rises to the people of Egypt in the morning,

and by this day the Etesian winds have quite ceased to blow. According

to Cæsar, this constellation rises on the fourteenth[622] before

the calends, and it affords its prognostics to the Assyrians on the

thirteenth. On the eleventh before[623] the calends of October, the

point of junction[624] in Pisces disappears, and upon the eighth[625]

is the autumnal equinox. It is a remarkable fact, and rarely the

case, that Philippus, Callippus, Dositheus, Parmeniscus, Conon,[626]

Criton, Democritus, and Eudoxus, all agree that the She-Goat rises in

the morning of the fourth before[627] the calends of October, and on

the third[628] the Kids. On the sixth day before[629] the nones of

October, the Crown rises in the morning to the people of Attica, and

upon the morning of the fifth,[630] the Charioteer sets. On the fourth

before[631] the nones of October, the Crown, according to Cæsar’s

reckoning, begins to rise, and on the evening of the day after is the

setting of the constellation of the Kids. On the eighth before[632]

the ides of October, according to Cæsar, the bright star rises that

shines in the Crown, and on the evening of the sixth before[633] the

ides the Vergiliæ, rise. Upon the ides[634] of October, the Crown has

wholly risen. On the seventeenth before[635] the calends of November,

the Suculæ rise in the evening, and on the day before the calends,

according to Cæsar’s reckoning, Arcturus sets, and the Suculæ[636] rise

with the sun. In the evening of the fourth day before[637] the nones of

November, Arcturus sets. On the fifth before[638] the ides of November,

Orion’s Sword begins to set; and on the third[639] before the ides the

Vergiliæ set.

In this interval of time, the rural operations consist in sowing rape

and turnips, upon the days which have been mentioned on a previous

occasion.[640] The people in the country are of opinion, that it is not

a good plan to sow rape after the departure of the stork; but for my

own part, I am of opinion that it should be sown after the Vulcanalia,

and the early kind at the same time as panic. After the setting of

the Lyre, vetches should be sown, kidney-beans and hay-grass: it is

generally recommended that this should be done while the moon is in

conjunction. This, too, is the proper time for gathering in the leaves:

it is fair work for one woodman, to fill four baskets[641] in the day.

If the leaves are gathered while the moon is on the wane, they will not

decay; they ought not to be dry, however, when gathered.

The ancients were of opinion, that the vintage is never ripe before

the equinox; but at the present day I find that it is gathered in

before that period; it will be as well, therefore, to give the signs

and indications by which the proper moment may be exactly ascertained.

The rules for getting in the vintage are to the following effect:

Never gather the grape in a heated state,[642] or in other words, when

the weather is dry, and before the rains have fallen; nor ought it to

be gathered when covered with dew,—or in other words, when dews have

fallen during the night,—nor yet before the dews have been dispelled by

the sun. Commence the vintage when the bearing-shoots begin to recline

upon the stem, or when, after a grape is removed from the bunch, the

space left empty is not filled up; this being a sure proof that the

berry has ceased to increase in size. It is of the greatest consequence

to the grape, that it should be gathered while the moon is on the

increase. Each pressing should fill twenty culei,[643] that being the

fair proportion. To fill twenty culei and vats[644] from twenty jugera

of vineyard, a single press will be enough. In pressing the grape,

some persons use a single press-board, but it is a better plan to

employ two, however large the single ones may be. It is the length of

them that is of the greatest consequence, and not the thickness: if

wide, however, they press the fruit all the better. The ancients used

to screw down the press-boards with ropes and leather thongs, worked

by levers. Within the last hundred years the Greek press has been

invented, with thick spiral grooves running down the[645] stem. To

this stem there are spokes attached, which project like the rays of a

star, and by means of which the stem is made to lift a box filled with

stones—a method that is very highly approved of. It is only within the

last two-and-twenty years, that a plan has been discovered of employing

smaller press-boards, and a less unwieldy press: to effect this, the

height has been reduced, and the stem of the screw placed in the

middle, the whole pressure being concentrated upon broad planks[646]

placed over the grapes, which are covered also with heavy weights above.

This is the proper time for gathering fruit; the best moment for doing

so is when it has begun to fall through ripeness, and not from the

effects of the weather. This is the season, too, for extracting the

lees of wine, and for boiling defrutum:[647] this last must be done

on a night when there is no moon, or if it is a full moon, in the

day-time. At other times of the year, it must be done either before

the moon has risen, or after it has set. The grapes employed for this

purpose should never be gathered from a young vine, nor yet from a tree

that is grown in a marshy spot, nor should any grapes be used but those

that are perfectly ripe: the liquor, too, should never be skimmed with

anything but a leaf,[648] for if the vessel should happen to be touched

with wood, the liquor, it is generally thought, will have a burnt and

smoky flavour.

The proper time for the vintage is between the equinox and the setting

of the Vergiliæ, a period of forty-four days. It is a saying among the

growers, that to pitch wine-vessels after that day, in consequence of

the coldness of the weather, is only so much time lost. Still, however,

I have seen, before now persons getting in the vintage on the calends

of January[649] even, in consequence of the want of wine-vessels, and

putting the must into receivers,[650] or else pouring the old wine out

of its vessels, to make room for new liquor of a very doubtful quality.

This, however, happens not so often in consequence of an over-abundant

crop, as through carelessness, or else the avarice which leads people

to wait for a rise in prices. The method that is adopted by the most

economical managers, is to use the produce supplied by each year,[651]

and this, too, is found in the end the most lucrative mode of

proceeding. As for the other details relative to wines, they have been

discussed at sufficient length already;[652] and it has been stated on

a previous occasion,[653] that as soon as the vintage is got in, the

olives should at once be gathered, with other particulars relative to

the olive after the setting of the Vergiliæ.

CHAP. 75. (32.)—THE REVOLUTIONS OF THE MOON.

I shall now proceed to add some necessary information relative to the

moon, the winds, and certain signs and prognostics, in order that I

may complete the observations I have to make with reference to the

sidereal system. Virgil[654] has even gone so far, in imitation of

Democritus, as to assign certain operations to certain days[655] of the

moon; but my sole object shall be, as, indeed, it has been throughout

this work, to consult that utility which is based upon a knowledge and

appreciation of general principles.

All vegetable productions are cut, gathered, and housed to more

advantage while the moon is on the wane than while it is on the

increase. Manure must never be touched except when the moon is on the

wane; and land must be manured more particularly while the moon is

in conjunction, or else at the first quarter. Take care to geld your

boars, bulls, rams, and kids, while the moon is on the wane. Put eggs

under the hen at a new moon. Make your ditches in the night-time, when

the moon is at full. Cover up the roots of trees, while the moon is at

full. Where the soil is humid, put in seed at the moon’s conjunction,

and during the four days about that period. It is generally

recommended, too, to give an airing to corn and the leguminous grains,

and to garner them, towards the end of the moon; to make seed-plots

when the moon is above the horizon; and to tread out the grape, to fell

timber, and to do many other things that have been mentioned in their

respective places, when the moon is below it.

The observation of the moon, in general, as already observed in the

Second Book,[656] is not so very easy, but what I am about here to

state even rustics will be able to comprehend: so long as the moon is

seen in the west, and during the earlier hours of the night, she will

be on the increase, and one half of her disk will be perceived; but

when the moon is seen to rise at sunset and opposite to the sun, so

that they are both perceptible at the same moment, she will be at full.

Again, as often as the moon rises in the east, and does not give her

light in the earlier hours of the night, but shows herself during a

portion of the day, she will be on the wane, and one half of her only

will again be perceptible: when the moon has ceased to be visible,

she is in conjunction, a period known to us as “interlunium.”[657]

During the conjunction, the moon will be above the horizon the same

time as the sun, for the whole of the first day; on the second, she

will advance upon the night ten-twelfths of an hour and one-fourth of

a twelfth;[658] on the third day, the same as on the second, and * *

* so on in succession up to the fifteenth day, the same proportional

parts of an hour being added each day. On the fifteenth day she will be

above the horizon all night, and below it all day. On the sixteenth,

she will remain below the horizon ten-twelfths of an hour, and

one-fourth of a twelfth, at the first hour of the night, and so on in

the same proportion day after day, up to the period of her conjunction;

and thus, the same time which, by remaining under the horizon, she

withdraws from the first part of the night, she will add to the end

of the night by remaining above the horizon. Her revolutions, too,

will occupy thirty days one month, and twenty-nine the next, and so on

alternately. Such is the theory of the revolutions of the moon.

CHAP. 76. (33.)—THE THEORY OF THE WINDS.

The theory of the winds[659] is of a somewhat more intricate nature.

After observing the quarter in which the sun rises on any given day, at

the sixth[660] hour of the day take your position in such a manner as

to have the point of the sun’s rising on your left; you will then have

the south directly facing you, and the north at your back: a line drawn

through a field in this direction[661] is called the “cardinal”[662]

line. The observer must then turn round, so as to look upon his shadow,

for it will be behind him. Having thus changed his position, so as to

bring the point of the sun’s rising on that day to the right, and that

of his setting to the left, it will be the sixth hour of the day, at

the moment when the shadow straight before him is the shortest. Through

the middle of this shadow, taken lengthwise, a furrow must be traced

in the ground with a hoe, or else a line drawn with ashes, some twenty

feet in length, say; in the middle of this line, or, in other words,

at the tenth foot in it, a small circle must then be described: to

this circle we may give the name of the “umbilicus,” or “navel.” That

point in the line which lies on the side of the head of the shadow will

be the point from which the north wind blows. You who are engaged in

pruning trees, be it your care that the incisions made in the wood do

not face this point; nor should the vine-trees[663] or the vines have

this aspect, except in the climates of Africa,[664] Cyrenæ, or Egypt.

When the wind blows, too, from this point, you must never plough, nor,

in fact, attempt any other of the operations of which we shall have to

make mention.[665]

That part of the line which lies between the umbilicus and the feet of

the shadow will look towards the south, and indicate the point from

which the south wind[666] blows, to which, as already mentioned,[667]

the Greeks have given the name of Notus. When the wind comes from this

quarter, you, husbandman, must never fell wood or touch the vine.

In Italy this wind is either humid or else of a burning heat, and

in Africa it is accompanied with intense heat[668] and fine clear

weather. In Italy the bearing branches should be trained to face this

quarter, but the incisions made in the trees or vines when pruned must

never face it. Let those be on their guard against this wind upon

the four[669] days at the rising of the Vergiliæ, who are engaged in

planting the olive, as well as those who are employed in the operations

of grafting or inoculating.

It will be as well, too, here to give some advice, in reference to the

climate of Italy, as to certain precautions to be observed at certain

hours of the day. You, woodman, must never lop the branches in the

middle of the day; and you, shepherd, when you see midday approaching

in summer, and the shadow gradually decreasing, drive your flocks from

out of the sun into some well-shaded spot. When you lead the flocks to

pasture in summer, let them face the west before midday,[670] and after

that time, the east: if this precaution is not adopted, calamitous

results will ensue; the same, too, if the flocks are led in winter or

spring to pastures covered with dew. Nor must you let them feed with

their faces to the north, as already mentioned;[671] for the wind will

either close their eyes or else make them bleared, and they will die of

looseness. If you wish to have females,[672] you should let the dams

have their faces towards the north while being covered.

CHAP. 77. (34.)—THE LAYING OUT OF LANDS ACCORDING TO THE POINTS OF THE

WIND.

We have already stated[673] that the umbilicus should be described in

the middle of the line. Let another line be drawn transversely through

the middle of it, and it will be found to run from due east to due

west; a trench cut through the land in accordance with this line is

known by the name of “decumanus.” Two other lines must then be traced

obliquely across them in the form of the letter X, in such a way as to

run exactly from right and left of the northern point to left and right

of the southern one. All these lines must pass through the centre of

the umbilicus, and all must be of corresponding length, and at equal

distances. This method should always be adopted in laying out land; or

if it should be found necessary to employ it frequently, a plan[674]

of it may be made in wood, sticks of equal length being fixed upon the

surface of a small tambour,[675] but perfectly round. In the method

which I am here explaining, it is necessary to point out one precaution

that must always be observed by those who are unacquainted with the

subject. The point that must be verified first of all is the south,

as that is always the same; but the sun, it must be remembered, rises

every day at a point in the heavens different to that of his rising on

the day before, so that the east must never be taken as the basis for

tracing the lines.

Having now ascertained the various points of the heavens, the extremity

of the line that is nearest to the north, but lying to the east of it,

will indicate the solstitial rising, or, in other words, the rising

of the sun on the longest day, as also the point from which the wind

Aquilo[676] blows, known to the Greeks by the name of Boreas. You

should plant all trees and vines facing this point, but take care

never to plough, or sow corn, or plant in seed plots, while this wind

is blowing, for it has the effect of drying up and blasting the roots

of the trees while being transplanted. Be taught in time—one thing is

good for grown trees, another for them while they are but young. Nor

have I forgotten the fact, that it is at this point of the heavens

that the Greeks place the wind, to which they give the name of Cæcias;

Aristotle, a man of most extensive learning, who has assigned to Cæcias

this position, explains that it is in consequence of the convexity

of the earth, that Aquilo blows in an opposite direction to the wind

called Africus.

The agriculturist, however, has nothing to fear from Aquilo, in respect

to the operations before mentioned, all the year through; for this wind

is softened by the sun in the middle of the summer, and, changing

its name, is known by that of Etesias.[677] When you feel the cold,

then, be on your guard; for, whatever the noxious effects that are

attributed to Aquilo, the more sensibly will they be felt when the wind

blows from due north. In Asia, Greece, Spain, the coasts of Italy,

Campania, and Apulia, the trees that support the vines, as well as the

vines themselves, should have an aspect towards the north-east. If you

wish to have male produce, let the flock feed in such a way, that this

wind may have the opportunity of fecundating the male, whose office

it is to fecundate the females. The wind Africus, known to the Greeks

by the name of Libs, blows from the south-west, the opposite point to

Aquilo; when animals, after coupling, turn their heads towards this

quarter,[678] you may be sure that female produce has been conceived.

The third[679] line from the north, which we have drawn transversely

through the shadow, and called by the name of “decumanus,” will

point due east, and from this quarter the wind Subsolanus blows, by

the Greeks called Apeliotes. It is to this point that, in healthy

localities, farm-houses and vineyards are made to look. This wind is

accompanied with soft, gentle showers; Favonius, however, the wind

that blows from due west, the opposite quarter to it, is of a drier

nature; by the Greeks it is known as Zephyrus. Cato has recommended

that olive-yards should look due west. It is this wind that begins the

spring, and opens the earth; it is moderately cool, but healthy. As

soon as it begins to prevail, it indicates that the time has arrived

for pruning the vine, weeding the corn, planting trees, grafting

fruit-trees, and trimming the olive; for its breezes are productive of

the most nutritious effects.

The fourth[680] line from the north, and the one that lies nearest

the south on the eastern side, will indicate the point of the sun’s

rising at the winter solstice, and the wind Volturnus, known by the

name of Eurus to the Greeks. This wind is warm and dry, and beehives

and vineyards, in the climates of Italy and the Gallic provinces,

should face this quarter. Directly opposite to Volturnus, the wind

Corus blows; it indicates the point of the sun’s setting at the summer

solstice, and lies on the western side next to the north. By the

Greeks it is called Argestes, and is one of the very coldest of the

winds, which, in fact, is the case with all the winds that blow from

the north; this wind, too, brings hailstorms with it, for which reason

it is necessary to be on our guard against it no less than the north.

If Volturnus begins to blow from a clear quarter of the heavens, it

will not last till night; but if it is Subsolanus, it will prevail for

the greater part of the night. Whatever the wind that may happen to

be blowing, if it is accompanied by heat, it will be sure to last for

several days. The earth announces the approach of Aquilo, by drying on

a sudden, while on the approach of Auster, the surface becomes moist

without any apparent cause.

CHAP. 78. (35.)—PROGNOSTICS DERIVED FROM THE SUN.

Having now explained the theory of the winds, it seems to me the

best plan, in order to avoid any repetition, to pass on to the other

signs and prognostics that are indicative of a change of weather. I

find, too, that this is a kind of knowledge that greatly interested

Virgil,[681] for he mentions the fact, that during the harvest even, he

has often seen the winds engage in a combat that was absolutely ruinous

to the improvident agriculturist. There is a tradition, too, to the

effect that Democritus, already mentioned, when his brother Damasus was

getting in his harvest in extremely hot weather, entreated him to leave

the rest of the crop, and house with all haste that which had been

cut; and it was only within a very few hours that his prediction was

verified by a most violent storm. On the other hand, it is particularly

recommended never to plant reeds except when rain is impending, and

only to sow corn just before a shower; we shall therefore briefly

touch upon the prognostics of this description, making enquiry more

particularly into those among them that have been found the most useful.

In the first place, then, we will consider those prognostics of the

weather which are derived from the sun.[682] If the sun is bright at

its rising, and not burning hot, it is indicative of fine weather,

but if pale, it announces wintry weather accompanied with hail. If the

sun is bright and clear when it sets, and if it rises with a similar

appearance, the more assured of fine weather may we feel ourselves. If

it is hidden in clouds at its rising, it is indicative of rain, and of

wind, when the clouds are of a reddish colour just before sunrise; if

black clouds are intermingled with the red ones, they betoken rain as

well. When the sun’s rays at its rising or setting appear to unite,

rainy weather may be looked for. When the clouds are red at sunset,

they give promise[683] of a fine day on the morrow; but if, at the

sun’s rising, the clouds are dispersed in various quarters, some to

the south, and some to the north-east, even though the heavens in the

vicinity of the sun may be bright, they are significant of rain and

wind. If at the sun’s rising or setting, its rays appear contracted,

they announce the approach of a shower. If it rains at sunset, or if

the sun’s rays attract the clouds towards them, it is portentous of

stormy weather on the following day. When the sun, at its rising,

does not emit vivid rays, although there are no clouds surrounding

it, rain may be expected. If before sunrise the clouds collect into

dense masses, they are portentous of a violent storm; but if they

are repelled from the east and travel westward, they indicate fine

weather. When clouds are seen surrounding the face of the sun, the less

the light they leave, the more violent the tempest will be: but if

they form a double circle round the sun, the storm will be a dreadful

one. If this takes place at sunrise or sunset, and the clouds assume

a red hue, the approach of a most violent storm is announced: and if

the clouds hang over the face of the sun without surrounding it, they

presage wind from the quarter from which they are drifting, and rain as

well, if they come from the south.

If, at its rising, the sun is surrounded with a circle, wind may

be looked for in the quarter in which the circle breaks; but if it

disappears equally throughout, it is indicative of fine weather. If the

sun at its rising throws out its rays afar through the clouds, and the

middle of its disk is clear, there will be rain; and if its rays are

seen before it rises, both rain and wind as well. If a white circle

is seen round the sun at its setting, there will be a slight storm in

the night; but if there is a mist around it, the storm will be more

violent. If the sun is pale at sunset, there will be wind, and if there

is a dark circle round it, high winds will arise in the quarter in

which the circle breaks.

CHAP. 79.—PROGNOSTICS DERIVED FROM THE MOON.

The prognostics derived from the moon, assert their right to occupy

our notice in the second place. In Egypt, attention is paid, more

particularly, to the fourth day of the moon. If, when the moon rises,

she shines with a pure bright light, it is generally supposed that

we shall have fine weather; but if she is red, there will be wind,

and if of a swarthy[684] hue, rain. If upon the fifth day of the moon

her horns are obtuse, they are always indicative of rain, but if

sharp and erect, of wind, and this on the fourth day of the moon more

particularly. If her northern horn is pointed and erect, it portends

wind; and if it is the lower horn that presents this appearance, the

wind will be from the south; if both of them are erect, there will be

high winds in the night. If upon the fourth day of the moon she is

surrounded by a red circle, it is portentous of wind and rain.

In Varro we find it stated to the following effect:—“If, at the fourth

day of the moon, her horns are erect, there will be great storms at

sea, unless, indeed, she has a circlet[685] around her, and that

circlet unblemished; for by that sign we are informed that there will

be no stormy weather before full moon. If, at the full moon, one half

of her disk is clear, it is indicative of fine weather, but if it is

red, of wind, and if black, of rain. If a darkness comes over the face

of the moon, covered with clouds, in whatever quarter it breaks, from

that quarter wind may be expected. If a twofold circle surrounds the

moon, the storm will be more violent, and even more so still, if there

are three circles, or if they are black, broken, and disjointed. If

the new moon at her rising has the upper horn obscured, there will be

a prevalence of rainy weather, when she is on the wane; but if it is

the lower horn that is obscured, there will be rain before full moon;

if, again, the moon is darkened in the middle of her disk, there will

be rain when she is at full. If the moon, when full, has a circle

round her, it indicates wind from the quarter in the circle which is

the brightest; but if at her rising the horns are obtuse, they are

portentous of a frightful tempest. If, when the west wind prevails,

the moon does not make her appearance before her fourth day, there

will be a prevalence of stormy weather throughout the month. If on

the sixteenth day the moon has a bright, flaming appearance, it is a

presage of violent tempests.”

There are eight different epochs of the moon, or periods at which

she makes certain angles of incidence with the sun, and most persons

only notice the prognostics derived from the moon, according to the

places which they occupy between these angles. The periods of these

angles are the third day, the seventh, the eleventh, the fifteenth,

the nineteenth, the twenty-third, the twenty-seventh, and that of the

conjunction.

CHAP. 80.—PROGNOSTICS DERIVED FROM THE STARS.

In the third rank must be placed the prognostics derived from the

stars. These bodies are sometimes to be seen shooting to and fro;[686]

when this happens, winds immediately ensue, in that part of the heavens

in which the presage has been afforded. When the heavens are equally

bright throughout their whole expanse, at the periods previously

mentioned,[687] the ensuing autumn will be fine and cool. If the spring

and summer have passed not without some rain, the autumn will be fine

and settled,[688] and there will be but little wind: when the autumn

is fine, it makes a windy winter. When the brightness of the stars is

suddenly obscured, though without[689] clouds or fog, violent tempests

may be expected. If numerous stars are seen to shoot,[690] leaving a

white track behind them, they presage wind from that quarter.[691] If

they follow in quick succession from the same quarter, the wind will

blow steadily, but if from various quarters of the heavens, the wind

will shift in sudden gusts and squalls. If circles are seen to surround

any of the planets, there will be rain.[692] In the constellation of

Cancer, there are two small stars to be seen, known as the Aselli,[693]

the small space that lies between them being occupied by a cloudy

appearance, which is known as the Manger;[694] when this cloud is

not visible in a clear sky, it is a presage of a violent storm. If a

fog conceals from our view the one of these stars which lies to the

north-east, there will be high winds from the south; but if it is

the star which lies to the south that is so obscured, then the wind

will be from the north-east. The rainbow, when double, indicates the

approach[695] of rain; but if seen after rain, it gives promise, though

by no means a certain one, of fine weather. Circular clouds around some

of the stars are indicative of rain.

CHAP. 81.—PROGNOSTICS DERIVED FROM THUNDER.

When, in summer, there is more thunder than lightning, wind may be

expected from that quarter; but if, on the other hand, there is not

so much thunder as lightning, there will be a fall of rain. When it

lightens in a clear sky, there will be rain, and if there is thunder as

well, stormy weather; but if it lightens from all four quarters of the

heavens, there will be a dreadful tempest. When it lightens from the

north-east only, it portends rain on the following day; but when from

the north, wind may be expected from that quarter. When it lightens on

a clear night from the south, the west, or the north-west, there will

be wind and rain from those quarters. Thunder[696] in the morning is

indicative of wind, and at midday of rain.

CHAP. 82.—PROGNOSTICS DERIVED FROM CLOUDS.

When clouds are seen moving in a clear sky, wind may be expected in the

quarter from which they proceed; but if they accumulate in one spot, as

they approach the sun they will disperse. If the clouds are dispersed

by a north-east wind, it is a presage of high winds, but if by a wind

from the south, of rain. If at sunset the clouds cover the heavens

on either side of the sun, they are indicative of tempest; if they

are black and lowering in the east, they threaten rain in the night,

but if in the west, on the following day. If the clouds spread in

large numbers from the east, like fleeces of wool in appearance, they

indicate a continuance of rain for the next three days. When the clouds

settle on the summits of the mountains,[697] there will be stormy

weather; but if the clouds clear away, it will be fine. When the clouds

are white and lowering, a hailstorm, generally known as a “white”[698]

tempest, is close at hand. An isolated cloud, however small,[699]

though seen in a clear sky, announces wind and storm.

CHAP. 83.—PROGNOSTICS DERIVED FROM MISTS.

Mists descending from the summits of mountains, or from the heavens, or

settling in the vallies,[700] give promise of fine weather.

CHAP. 84.—PROGNOSTICS DERIVED FROM FIRE KINDLED BY MAN.

Next to these are the prognostics that are derived from fire kindled

upon the earth.[701] If the flames are pallid, and emit a murmuring

noise, they are considered to presage stormy weather; and fungi upon

the burning wick of the lamp are a sign of rain.[702] If the flame is

spiral and flickering, it is an indication of wind, and the same is the

case when the lamp goes out of itself, or is lighted with difficulty.

So, too, if the snuff hangs down, and sparks gather upon it, or if the

burning coals adhere[703] to vessels taken from off the fire, or if the

fire, when covered up, sends out hot embers or emits sparks, or if the

cinders gather into a mass upon the hearth, or the coals burn bright

and glowing.

CHAP. 85.—PROGNOSTICS DERIVED FROM WATER.

There are certain prognostics, too, that may be derived from water.

If, when the sea is calm, the water ripples in the harbour, with a

hollow, murmuring noise, it is a sign of wind, and if in winter, of

rain as well. If the coasts and shores re-echo while the sea is calm,

a violent tempest may be expected; and the same when the sea, though

calm, is heard to roar, or throws up foam and bubbling spray. If

sea pulmones[704] are to be seen floating on the surface, they are

portentous of stormy weather for many days to come. Very frequently,

too, the sea is seen to swell in silence, and more so than when ruffled

by an ordinary breeze; this is an indication that the winds are at work

within its bosom already.

CHAP. 86.—PROGNOSTICS DERIVED FROM TEMPESTS THEMSELVES.

The reverberations, too, of the mountains, and the roaring of the

forests, are indicative of certain phænomena; and the same is the case

when the leaves are seen to quiver,[705] without a breath of wind,

the downy filaments of the poplar or thorn to float in the air, and

feathers to skim along the surface of the water.[706] In champaign

countries, the storm gives notice of its approach by that peculiar

muttering[707] which precedes it; while the murmuring that is heard in

the heavens affords us no doubtful presage of what is to come.

CHAP. 87.—PROGNOSTICS DERIVED FROM AQUATIC ANIMALS, AND BIRDS.

The animals, too, afford us certain presages; dolphins, for instance,

sporting in a calm sea, announce wind in the quarter from which they

make their appearance.[708] When they throw up the water in a billowy

sea, they announce the approach of a calm. The loligo,[709] springing

out of the water, shell-fish adhering to various objects, sea-urchins

fastening by their stickles upon the sand, or else burrowing in it,

are so many indications of stormy weather: the same, too, when

frogs[710] croak more than usual, or coots[711] make a chattering in

the morning. Divers, too, and ducks, when they clean their feathers

with the bill, announce high winds; which is the case also when the

aquatic birds unite in flocks, cranes make for the interior, and

divers[712] and sea-mews forsake the sea or the creeks. Cranes when

they fly aloft in silence announce fine weather, and so does the

owlet,[713] when it screeches during a shower; but if it is heard in

fine weather, it presages a storm. Ravens, too, when they croak with a

sort of gurgling noise and shake their feathers, give warning of the

approach of wind, if their note is continuous: but if, on the other

hand, it is smothered, and only heard at broken intervals, we may

expect rain, accompanied with high winds. Jackdaws, when they return

late from feeding, give notice of stormy weather, and the same with

the white birds,[714] when they unite in flocks, and the land birds,

when they descend with cries to the water and besprinkle themselves,

the crow more particularly. The swallow,[715] too, when it skims along

the surface of the water so near as to ripple it every now and then

with its wings, and the birds that dwell in the trees, when they hide

themselves in their nests, afford similar indications; geese, too, when

they set up a continuous gabbling,[716] at an unusual time, and the

heron,[717] when it stands moping in the middle of the sands.

CHAP. 88.—PROGNOSTICS DERIVED FROM QUADRUPEDS.

Nor, indeed, is it surprising that the aquatic birds, or any birds,

in fact, should have a perception of the impending changes of the

atmosphere. Sheep, however, when they skip and frisk with their clumsy

gambols,[718] afford us similar prognostics; oxen, when they snuff

upwards towards the sky, and lick[719] themselves against the hair;

unclean swine, when they tear to pieces the trusses of hay that are put

for other animals;[720] bees, when, contrary to their natural habits

of industry, they keep close within the hive; ants, when they hurry to

and fro, or are seen carrying forth their eggs; and earthworms,[721]

emerging from their holes—all these indicate approaching changes in the

weather.

CHAP. 89.—PROGNOSTICS DERIVED FROM PLANTS.

It is a well-known fact, that trefoil bristles up, and its leaves stand

erect, upon the approach of a tempest.

CHAP. 90.—PROGNOSTICS DERIVED FROM FOOD.

At our repasts, too, and upon our tables, when we see the vessels

sweat in which the viands are served, and leave marks upon the

side-board,[722] it is an indication that a dreadful storm is impending.

SUMMARY.—Remarkable facts, narratives, and observations, two thousand

and sixty.

ROMAN AUTHORS QUOTED.—Massurius Sabinus,[723] Cassius Hemina,[724]

Verrius Flaccus,[725] L. Piso,[726] Cornelius Celsus,[727] Turranius

Gracilis,[728] D. Silanus,[729] M. Varro,[730] Cato the Censor,[731]

Scrofa,[732] the Sasernæ,[733] father and son, Domitius Calvinus,[734]

Hyginus,[735] Virgil,[736] Trogus,[737] Ovid,[738] Græcinus,[739]

Columella,[740] Tubero,[741] L. Tarutius,[742] who wrote in Greek

on the Stars, Cæsar[743] the Dictator, who wrote upon the Stars,

Sergius Paulus,[744] Sabinus Fabianus,[745] M. Cicero,[746] Calpurnius

Bassus,[747] Ateius Capito,[748] Mamilius Sura,[749] Attius,[750] who

wrote the Praxidica.

FOREIGN AUTHORS QUOTED.—Hesiod,[751] Theophrastus,[752] Aristotle,[753]

Democritus,[754] King Hiero,[755] King Attalus Philometor,[756] King

Archelaüs,[757] Archytas,[758] Xenophon,[759] Amphilochus[760] of

Athens, Anaxipolis[761] of Thasos, Aristophanes[762] of Miletus,

Apollodorus[763] of Lemnos, Antigonus[764] of Cymæ, Agathocles[765]

of Chios, Apollonius[766] of Pergamus, Aristander[767] of Athens,

Bacchius[768] of Miletus, Bion[769] of Soli, Chæreas[770] of Athens,

Chæristus[771] of Athens, Diodorus[772] of Priene, Dion[773]

of Colophon, Epigenes[774] of Rhodes, Euagon[775] of Thasos,

Euphronius[776] of Athens, Androtiou[777] who wrote on Agriculture,

Æschrion[778] who wrote on Agriculture, Lysimachus[779] who wrote

on Agriculture, Dionysius[780] who translated Mago, Diophanes[781]

who made an Epitome from Dionysius, Thales,[782] Eudoxus,[783]

Philippus,[784] Calippus,[785] Dositheus,[786] Parmeniscus,[787]

Meton,[788] Criton,[789] Œnopides,[790] Zenon,[791] Euctemon,[792]

Harpalus,[793] Hecatæus,[794] Anaximander,[795] Sosigenes,[796]

Hipparchus,[797] Aratus,[798] Zoroaster,[799] Archibius.[800]