CONTAINING A DISCUSSION OF SNOW, HAIL, AND RAIN [THE NILE]
PREFACE
You tell me you are delighted, Lucilius, my most esteemed of friends, 1
with your peaceful government of Sicily. You will continue to be
delighted if you are willing to observe the bounds of moderation, and
do not try to turn into an empire what is merely a province. Nor do I
doubt that this will be your choice, knowing as I do that you are a
stranger to ambition, and a friend to a peaceful life of letters. Let
those who cannot bear their own company, long for a crowd of affairs
and of people! You are on the best of terms with yourself. It is
little wonder that few attain such a happy lot. We are always laying 2
commands upon ourselves to our own dispeace. We suffer at one moment
from love of, at another from weariness of, ourselves. Our unhappy soul
is now inflamed with pride, now inflated with passion. Sometimes we
relax it through indulgence, sometimes we consume it with anxiety. The
most pitiable thing of all is that we are never alone with ourselves.
So, where such a crowd of vices have to mess together, there must becccc 3
continual wrangling among them. Behave, therefore, my dear Lucilius, as
you are wont to behave. Separate yourself as far as possible from the
common herd, and expose no side to the attack of flattery. Flatterers
are adepts in spreading a net for their betters. However much you are
on your guard, you will be no match for them. If you allow yourself
to be caught, you will be delivering yourself up to betrayal, take my
word for it. Flattery has in it the inherent charm, that even when 4
spurned, it is not unpleasing: often shut out, it is at the last taken
to the bosom. Flattery accepts its rejection as a mark of attention;
even insults cannot subdue it.
What I am going to tell you may sound incredible, yet it is the simple
truth. Every man is most open to danger on the side on which he is 5
attacked. Perhaps, indeed, that is the very reason why he is attacked
on that side. You must, therefore, lay your account to recognise that,
do what you will, you cannot manage to be impervious to adulation. When
you have closed every loophole, it will still wound you through your
harness. One assailant will employ his flattery secretly and sparingly;
another, above board, openly, with an affectation of honest sincerity,
as if it were straightforward bluntness, not device. Plancus, the
greatest adept in the art before Vitellius’ time, used to say that
secret, dissembled flattery was not to be employed. Advances, quoth he,
are lost if they are not recognised. The flatterer makes most headway 6
when he is detected; still more, in fact, if an open rebuke brings the
blush to his cheek. You must assume that a public character like you
will encounter many Plancuses. It is no remedy against the inveterate
plague to refuse to be praised. I never knew a man more shrewd in every
practical matter than Crispus Passienus, and especially in diagnosing
and treating faults of character. He often used to say that we only
put-to the door against flattery, and do not shut it, much in the same
way as in the face of a mistress. If she gives it a shove, we are
pleased, still more so if she forces it open. I remember hearing that 7
distinguished man, Demetrius, remark to a certain powerful freedman
that he, too, had an easy road to riches on the day that he made up
his mind to renounce all virtuous resolutions. Nor will I grudge any
of you, said he, the knowledge of the art, but I will teach those
who regard gain as the one thing needful how they may attain their
object. They need not follow the doubtful fortune of the sea, nor the
competition of buying and selling: they need not place their faith in
the fickle proceeds of the ground, nor the still more fickle fortunes
of the exchange. I will teach them a means of making money not merely
easy, but positively so merry that the victims whom they fleece will
share the fun. Flattery shall be the means. If you have the stature 8
of the pigmy Thracian matched against Thracian in the arena, I will
swear that you are taller than Fidus Annaeus or Apollonius Pycta. I
will say that no fellow could be more liberal than you, nor shall I
lie, since you may be considered to have bestowed upon all whatever you
have not robbed them of.
The fact is, my dear Junior, the more open and shameless flattery is,
and the more completely it has brazened its own features and raised
the conscious blush in those of others, the more quickly it storms the
citadel. We have now reached such a pitch of madness that he who uses
flattery sparingly is considered niggardly. I used to tell you thatccccc 9
my brother Gallio--a man whom even his most ardent admirer cannot love
according to the measure of his deserts--was a stranger to other vices,
but this he positively loathed. You might assail him on every side.
One began by paying homage to his intellect, the greatest and worthiest
of all, which one had rather see consecrated to the service of heaven
than wasted in weak human effort; he ran away from one who talked thus.
Or one began to praise his thrift--he was so indifferent to money that
he seemed neither to possess it nor to condemn it--he cut short the
very first words of the panegyric.
Or, again, one would admire his _bonhomie_ and unaffected grace 10
of character, which charms even those it passes unnoticed--a service
to every one he meets, which costs the author nothing. No one in the
world, I may tell you, is such a favourite with his one chosen friend
as he is with all. At the same time so great is his natural amiability
that it is free from all savour of artifice or pretence. No one, you
would think, can refuse credit for a goodness in which all share. At
this point, too, he successfully resisted your blandishments, leading
you to exclaim that you had found a man absolutely impregnable to
assaults of the flattery which no one ever refuses to take to his
bosom. You were forced to admit that you respected his wisdom and 11
determination in escaping from that unavoidable plague, all the more
that you had hoped that your insinuating words would be received with
open ears because they were true. Yet all the more he saw that he must
resist your wiles. For when truth is attacked by falsehood, the attack
always seeks the aid of some measure of truth. Still, I would not have
the flatterer who tried his art upon my brother displeased with his
success, as if he had acted his part ill while the other suspected some
joke or trick. You had not been detected, your advances had simply 12
been rejected. Now do you, Lucilius, adapt yourself to this model.
When any flatterer approaches you, say to him: Do you wish to convey a
complimentary message such as passes between magistrates duly installed
in office? Do you think that I am prepared to return the compliment,
and willing, therefore, to listen to your long story? Neither do I wish
to dupe, nor can I be duped. I should like well enough to have the
praise of people like yourself if you did not praise the bad as well as
the good.
And yet, Lucilius, why is it necessary for you to come down to their
level, and allow them to attack you at close quarters? Keep a long
distance between you and them. When you desire to have genuine praise,
why should you be indebted to another for it? Yourself commend your own
efforts. Say thus: Though my poverty prompted another kind of career,
and tempted me to devote my talents to a field which promised to 13
application a quick return, yet I gave myself up to liberal pursuits.
I turned aside to the unremunerative domains of poetry, and bestowed
myself upon the wholesome study of philosophy. I have showed that
seeds of virtue are planted in every breast. I have surmounted the
difficulties of birth; measuring my powers, not by my lot, but by my
capacity, I have reached a position on a level with the highest. My
friendship with Gaetulicus did not sap my allegiance to the Emperor
Caius Caligula. Messalina and Narcissus, long enemies of the State
before they became enemies of one another, were unable to overturn 14
my resolve to be true to others whom it was a crime to love.[61] I
risked my head for my loyalty. No word was wrung from me that I could
not utter with a clear conscience. All my fears were for my friends,
none for myself, except the fear of not proving a true friend. No
womanish tears escaped me, nor did I cling as suppliant to the hands
of any ruler. I have done nothing unbecoming a man or a good man.
Rising superior to dangers, ready to face all they threatened, I 15
thanked fortune for affording opportunity of showing what a price I put
upon honour. Such an issue could not be lightly esteemed in my eyes.
The suspense was not of long continuance. The weights in the scale
were by no means equal--was it better for me to perish for honour’s
sake or for honour to perish for my sake? I did not rush headlong to
self-destruction, the refuge of despair, to rescue myself from the
mad rage of the rulers. In Caius’ time I saw tortures and fires of
persecution. Under his reign I recognised at one period that the lot of
humanity had sunk to such a depth of misery that the loss of one’s 16
life might be ranked among the deeds of mercy. Yet, I did not fall upon
my sword, nor leap open-mouthed into the sea: I would not have it seem
that death was the only service I could render for honour’s sake. Add,
now, that my soul has never stooped to bribes, amid the eager race for
wealth my hand has never reached forth to receive unjust gain. Add,
too, the thriftiness of my mode of life, the restraint of my speech, my
courtesy toward inferiors, my respect for superiors.
[61] The passage is evidently corrupt; the facts with which it deals
are in part unknown.
After these reflections, ask yourself, my friend, whether what you
have related of yourself be true or false. If it is true, you have a
most important witness to your character; if false, there will be no
witness to the derision you have earned. I may myself appear at 17
present to be either seeking to throw my net over you or trying to make
you rise to my fly. Take either supposition for true, and begin, from
the example I offer, to fear all flatterers. Meditate on Virgil’s words:
Nowhere is honour safe;
or on Ovid’s:
As far as earth extends, the savage Fury rules;
For crime, methinks, all have conspired;
or on this sentiment of Menander’s--for who has not put forth the
full strength of his indignation on this topic, in abhorrence of 18
mankind’s agreement in rushing toward vice? All are bad livers, says
the poet, presenting himself on the stage in the rude character of a
raw countryman. He excepts neither greybeard nor youth, neither man
nor woman. He adds to the charge that it is not individuals or small
numbers that sin, but that wickedness is now ingrained in society all
through. One must flee from the world and return to oneself, nay,
rather one must escape from oneself. Though you and I are separated by
the sea, I will endeavour to render you some service: placing my 19
hand in yours I will guide your doubtful steps along the more excellent
way. At this distance I will mingle my talk with yours, that you may
not feel the loneliness. We shall be united in our noblest part--the
spirit. We shall impart mutual counsel, and, as you hang upon the lips
of your monitor, I will lead you far away from that province of yours.
For I would not have you put too implicit trust in records of the
past, or become self-satisfied as often as you reflect: I have under
my jurisdiction a province here which both maintained and crushed 20
the armies of the mightiest states, when it was offered as a prize in
that colossal war between Carthage and Rome. It saw the strength of
four Roman generals, in other words, of the whole empire, massed in
one spot; it raised high the fortunes of Pompey, brought Caesar’s to
their culmination; transferred the power of Lepidus to his rivals, and
contained the fate of all. Sicily was an eye-witness of that great
spectacle which showed plainly to the world how rapid the descent 21
from highest to lowest could be, and in how many different ways great
power might be overthrown by fortune. For at one and the same time it
witnessed the downfall of Pompey and Lepidus from the pinnacle of power
in opposite ways; Pompey had to run from his enemy’s army, Lepidus from
his own.
I
Although Sicily, then, has many wonderful sights in and around it, I
will meantime withdraw your mind wholly from your own province, and,
passing by all questions relating to it, will direct your thoughts
to a far different scene. In your society I will resume the inquiry
postponed in my last book, why the Nile overflows in the summer months.
Now, let me remark that the philosophers have asserted the similarity
of the Danube to the Nile, because its source is unknown and it is
larger in summer than in winter. Both statements are clearly false.
We know for a fact that the Danube rises in Germany. Again, though
the rise of the Danube begins in summer, it is at a period when the
Nile still remains within its ordinary limits: the heat is then only
beginning, and the stronger sun toward the latter part of spring is
softening the snows, but it has to melt them before the Nile begins
to rise. During the remainder of the summer the Danube actually falls
until it reaches its winter size, from which in due course it begins
its rise again.[62]
[62] The meaning of the last clause is taken by some to be: and even
falls below it--a somewhat pointless remark.
II
But the increase of the Nile begins in the middle of the hot season, 1
before the rise of the dog-star, and continues till after the equinox.
Nature has raised up this noble river before the eyes of the world, and
has so ordered its inundation of the land of Egypt that it should occur
at the very time at which the ground is most parched with heat. The
earth thus drinks the more deeply, and imbibes sufficient to counteract
the drought of the whole year. In the part of Egypt that stretches
round Ethiopia, you must bear in mind, there is either no rain at all
or it occurs only at long intervals, and is insufficient to give much
relief to a land which ordinarily knows nothing of water from the
clouds. It is in the Nile, as you are aware, that Egypt reposes all 2
its hopes. According to the abundance or scantiness of its overflow is
the leanness or the fatness of its season. _None of its farmers regards
the sky_, are the words of your own poem. And why should I not crack
a joke with my dear poet friend, and retort with a verse from his
favourite Ovid?[63] who says:
Nor do the herbs make supplication to the rain-god Jupiter.
[63] The quotation is really from Tibullus.
If one could only ascertain at what point in the course of the river 3
the rise begins, the causes of the rise would also be discovered.
As it is, the river wanders through great deserts, spreads out into
marshes, among many scattered tribes, before it is for the first time
after its wandering, mazy course gathered into one near Philae. Philae
is a rugged island, precipitous on all sides; it is surrounded by the
two branches of the river before they unite to form the one river
which henceforth bears the designation Nile. The whole city of Philae
is surrounded by the Nile, which after leaving Ethiopia is a large
rather than rapid river.[64] Next in its course are the sandy deserts
through which passes the trade route to the Red Sea.[64] After that 4
the Nile enters the Cataracts, a spot famous for a wonderful sight.
The river rises over high crags that are at several points jagged.
The opposing rocks break up its course and rouse its utmost force;
as it struggles through the narrows, swirls show the points where it
conquers or is conquered. A smooth channel had hitherto conducted its
waters without uproar. Here for the first time they are roused, and the
turbulent cataract leaps down through the narrow passage quite unlike
its former self. Up to that point the stream was thick and muddy. 5
But once it enters the craggy gorge it breaks into foam. Its colour is
no longer the natural one, but derived from the ground through which
it has to force its way. When at length it has struggled through the
obstructions, suddenly deprived of support, it falls from a vast height
with a roar that resounds through all the surrounding regions. The
race planted in that savage place was indeed unable to endure the din;
their ears were deafened by the constant crash, and they were therefore
removed from the settlement.
[64] The text is very uncertain.
Among the wonderful sights of the river I have been told of a feat of
incredible daring performed by the inhabitants. Two of them embark in
a small boat, one steering, the other baling out the water. Forthwith
they are violently buffeted from side to side by the furious waves of 6
the rapid river, and at length reach the narrowest channels, through
which they thread their way till they escape from the craggy gorge.
Then they are carried down along with the whole volume of the stream,
guiding all the time by hand the rushing craft. At one moment they seem
to stand right on their head; the spectators are in great alarm; one
gives them up for lost, and believes they must be sunk and overwhelmed
by such a mass of water. But finally they are shot out like an arrow,
and are discovered afloat at a point far below where they had entered
the current. The waves in their fall do not swamp them, but pass them
on to smooth water.
The first rise of the Nile is observed near the island Philae which I 7
have just mentioned. A short distance from it the river is divided by
a rock in the centre, which the Greeks call the Inaccessible (Ἄβατος).
No foot approaches it save that of the priestly ministers. Those cliffs
first feel the increase of the river. Then along distance below that
two crags project, called by the natives the veins of the Nile. A
great quantity of water is shed out by them, but yet insufficient to
flood the land of Egypt. When the date of the sacred festival comes
round, the priests throw into these fountains a public offering, while
the magistrates offer gifts of gold. From this point the Nile, 8
obviously displaying the fresh energy it has gained, flows onward in
a channel of profound depth, but is restrained by mountain barriers
from spreading widely beyond its banks. Only when it reaches Memphis is
it released; and separating into numerous channels, it roams over the
champaign.
In order to regulate the supply, canals are constructed by hand, and
thus the water is distributed over all Egypt. At first near its bank
the stream is simply divided; by and by the waters extend till they
assume the aspect of a wide, swollen sea at rest. The extent of the
country flooded, which embraces the whole land of Egypt to right and
left, deprives the current of all its force. The height of the Nile’s 9
rise determines the expectation of growth for the year. The farmer
is never out in his reckoning; the fertility of the land answers
unfailingly to the measure of the river’s increase. It spreads a
coating of soil as well as water over the thirsty, sandy ground. As it
comes down swollen, it deposits all its sediment in the dry, gaping
cracks, and spreads over the parched soil all the rich mud it has
brought down. It thus renders a double service to the land--first, by
overflowing it, and then by coating it with slime. And so any portion
that it does not reach lies waste and unsightly. If the inundation 10
is unduly high, it does damage.
The river possesses this wonderful characteristic: while all other
rivers wash away and exhaust land, the Nile, though so much larger
than the rest, far from eating away or rubbing off soil, actually
adds to its vigour; it contains very little that injuriously affects
the soil,[65] for by the mud it brings down, it soaks and binds the
sands. Egypt, in fact, owes to the river not merely the fertility of
the soil, but also the soil itself. It is a beautiful sight when the 11
Nile has spread itself over all the fields. The plains are hidden, the
valleys have disappeared; only the towns stand out like islands. In the
interior of the country there is no communication except by boat. The
people are overjoyed the more, the less they can see of their country.
Even when the river has resumed its normal course, it discharges into
the sea by seven mouths, any one of them itself a sea. Moreover, it
sends out many less famous arms toward either bank.
[65] Or, its least service is that it tempers the soil.
And then when we look at the monsters it rears, they are equal to those
of ocean in size, and no less formidable. One may judge indeed of the 12
greatness of the river from the hugeness of the animals for whose
sustenance it provides food in abundance, and for whose free movements
it affords room. Balbillus, a most excellent man who has distinguished
himself in every walk of letters, has recorded that during his own
government of Egypt he himself saw in the largest mouth of the Nile,
the Heracleotic, the strange sight of what may be called a pitched
battle between dolphins, coming up from the sea, and crocodiles meeting
them in front from the river. The crocodiles were in the event 13
vanquished by the inoffensive animals with harmless bite. It happened
on this wise: The upper part of the crocodile’s body is hard, and
cannot be pierced by the teeth even of larger animals; but the lower
part is soft and tender. The dolphins dived in the fight and wounded
the belly of the crocodiles with the projecting spikes they carry
on their back; then driving home the stroke, they fairly cut up the
enemy. When a number of the crocodiles had been opened out in this 14
fashion, the remainder, to adopt military language, wheeled their line
and retreated. The battle was not to the strong, the fleeing creature
successfully resisted the daring, the most daring fled before the
timid! Nor is it by any peculiar virtue of stock or blood that the
islanders from Tentyra beat the crocodiles, but merely through pluck
and contempt of them. They take the offensive against them, and as the
crocodiles try to escape they lasso them and drag them ashore. At the
same time many of the hunters lose their lives through lack of nerve in
the chase.
Theophrastus assures us that the Nile has at times brought down sea
water. It is a well-established fact that for two successive years, 15
the tenth and eleventh of the reign of Cleopatra, there was no rise
in the river. People say that this was an intimation of the impending
fall of its two rulers. For as a matter of fact, the rule of Antony and
Cleopatra did fall. At an earlier period the Nile did not rise for nine
whole years, according to the statement of Callimachus.
But I must now go on to inquire into the explanations of the 16
occurrence of the rise of the Nile in summer; and I will begin with the
most ancient of them. Anaxagoras asserts that the snow melting on the
peaks of Ethiopia is constantly running down to the Nile. All antiquity
shared the same view, which is recorded by Aeschylus, Sophocles, and
Euripides. But many proofs make it plain that it is a mistaken 17
one. First of all, the blackened complexion of the people shows that
Ethiopia is exceedingly hot. So do the habits of the Troglodytes
(cave-dwellers), who for coolness have underground houses. The rocks
glow with heat as if a fire had been applied, and that, not only at
mid-day, but even toward nightfall. The dusty ground is so hot that
no foot of man can endure it. Silver is unsoldered.[66] The joints of
statues are melted. No coating of plated metal will stick on. The south 18
wind, too, coming from that tract of country, is the hottest of all
winds. None of the animals that go to earth in winter ever hibernates
there. Even in midwinter the serpent is seen above ground in the open.
At Alexandria, too, which lies far north of this excessive heat, snow
does not fall; but the upper regions have not even rain.
[66] Some render--is dissolved and gives off its lead.
How then, I ask, could a district exposed to such broiling heat receive
a snowfall sufficient to last through a whole summer? No doubt some of 19
the mountains in Ethiopia, as well as elsewhere, intercept snow;
but there can never be a greater fall than in the Alps, or the peaks
of Thrace, or the Caucasus. It is in spring, however, or early summer,
that the rivers that flow from the European mountains are swollen;
subsequently during winter time they decrease. The reason, of course,
is that the rains in spring wash off so much of the snow, and the
first heat of summer soon scatters the remnants. Neither the Rhine,
nor the Rhone, nor the Danube, nor yet the Caÿstrus is liable to the
catastrophe of an overflow in winter; their increase is in summer,
though in those northern peaks where they rise the snow lies very
deep. The Phasis, too, and the Dnieper would swell during summer 20
if snows had the power of raising the rivers high in spite of the
heat of that season. Besides, if this were the cause of the flooding
of the Nile, its stream would be fullest in early summer; for that is
the period when the snow is deepest and least impaired, and when from
its softness the thaw is quickest. The Nile, however, has a regular
increase to its stream during four months.
If one may believe Thales, the Etesian winds hinder the descent 21
of the Nile and check its course by driving the sea against its
mouths. It is thus beaten back, and returns upon itself. Its rise is
not the result of increase: it simply stops through being prevented
from discharging, and presently, wherever it can, it bursts out
into forbidden ground. Euthymenes of Marseilles bears corroborative
testimony: I have, he says, gone a voyage in the Atlantic Sea. It
causes an increase in the Nile as long as the Etesian winds observe
their season. For at that period the sea is cast up by pressure of the
winds. When the winds have fallen, the sea is at rest, and supplies 22
less energy to the Nile in its descent. Further, the taste of that sea
is fresh, and its denizens resemble those of the Nile. Now, if the
Etesian winds, as alleged, stir up the Nile, why, I should like to
know, does its rise begin before them and last after them? Moreover,
it does not rise higher in proportion to the violence of their blast.
Nor does it swell and fall according as they blow furiously or gently.
All which would happen if it derived from them the strength of its
increase. Then, again, the Etesian winds beat on the shore of Egypt, 23
and the Nile comes down in their teeth: whereas, if its rise is to be
traced to them, the river ought to come from the same quarter as they
do. Furthermore, if it flowed out of the sea, its waters would be clear
and dark blue, not muddy, as they are. Add to this that Euthymenes’
evidence is refuted by a whole crowd of witnesses. At such a time when
foreign parts were all unknown, there was opportunity for falsehood:
people like Euthymenes had scope for giving currency to travellers’
myths. But nowadays the whole coast of the sea beyond Gibraltar is
visited by trading vessels: none of the traders tell us that the Nile
rises there, or that the sea in the Atlantic tastes differently from
what it does elsewhere. The very nature of the sea forbids belief 24
in the story that it is fresh: the freshest water is always lightest,
and as such attracted by the sun in evaporation: the residuum, sea,
must be salt. Besides, why, on this theory, does the Nile not rise in
winter? The sea may be raised at that season by storms too, which are
considerably greater than the Etesians; the latter are comparatively
moderate in their force. Besides if the source were derived from the
Atlantic Ocean, Egypt would be flooded all at once; but, as a matter of
fact, the increase is very gradual.
Oenopides of Chios has another explanation: he says that in winter 25
heat is stored up under the ground; that is why caves are then warm,
and the water in wells is less cold. The veins of water are dried up by
this internal heat, he thinks. In other countries rivers swell through
rain: but the Nile, being aided by no rainfall, dwindles during the
rainy season of winter, and by and by increases in summer, a season
at which the interior of the earth is cold, and the frost returns
to the springs. Now, if that were true, rivers in general would 26
increase in summer, and all wells would then have greater abundance
of water. Besides, it is not true that there is an increase in the
heat underground in winter. Water and caves and wells are warm at that
season because they do not admit the frosty air from without. Thus,
they do not possess heat, they merely exclude cold. For the same reason
they are chilly in summer, because the air heated by the sun is drawn
off to a distance, and does not penetrate to them.
The next account is that of Diogenes of Apollonia. It runs thus: 27
The sun attracts moisture; the earth drained of it replenishes its
supply in part from the sea, in part from other water. Now, it is
impossible that one land should be dry and another overflowing with
moisture. The whole earth is full of perforations, and there are paths
of intercommunication from part to part. From time to time the dry
parts draw upon the moist. Had not the earth some source of supply,
it would ere this have been completely drained of its moisture.
Well, then, the sun attracts the waves. The localities most affected
are the southern.[67] When the earth is parched, it draws to it 28
more moisture. Just as in a lamp the oil flows to the point where
it is consumed, so the water inclines toward the place to which the
overpowering heat of the burning earth draws it. But where, it may be
asked, is it drawn from? Of course, it must be from those northern
regions of eternal winter, where there is a superabundance of it. This
is why a swift current sets from the Black Sea toward the Lower 29
Sea, without interruption, and not, as in the case of other seas,
with alternate flow and ebb of tide; there is always a descending
flood in the one direction. Unless this took place, and these routes
supplied the means whereby what is lacking may be bestowed on each
land, and what is superfluous may be given off, the whole earth would
ere now have been either drained or flooded. Now, one would like to ask
Diogenes, seeing the deep and all streams are in intercommunication, 30
why the rivers are not everywhere larger in summer. Egypt, he will
perhaps tell me, is more baked by the sun, and therefore the Nile rises
higher from the extra supply it draws; but in the other countries, too,
the rivers receive some addition. Another question--seeing that every
land attracts moisture from other regions, and a greater supply in
proportion to its heat, why is any part of the world without moisture?
Another--why is the Nile fresh if its water comes from the sea? No
river has a fresher and sweeter taste.
[67] The text is uncertain; the general meaning is, however, plain.
III
I should be somewhat too bold if I were to assure you as on oath that 1
hail is formed in the sky much in the way ice is with us, only that in
the former case a whole cloud is frozen. So I may regard myself as a
witness only in the second degree--one of those who say not that they
have actually seen but have been informed. Or, I may, for once, do as
the chroniclers do. After lying at large to their heart’s content,
they fix on some one point for which they refuse to vouch, adding:
Evidence of this will be found in the authorities. So, if you do not 2
believe me, Posidonius will vouchsafe to you his authority both for
the statement I have made, and for one that I am going to make. He
will assure you, as confidently as if he had witnessed the process of
formation, that hail is formed from a cloud that is charged with rain,
and has already turned into moisture. You can discover without a tutor
why the hail is round if you observe that drops of all kinds tend to
become globular. This is seen, for example, in looking-glasses, which 3
gather moisture from the breath, as well as in cups, and any other
smooth surface bedewed with it. So, too, in the leaves of grass or
trees, any drops that adhere take a circular form.
What is harder than rock, what softer than water?
Yet the hard rock is hollowed by drops of the soft water;
or, as another poet tells us:
The drip by its fall hollows the stone:
and this hollow is itself round. Whence it is evident that its shape 4
resembles this drip which hollows it out, sculpturing the spot to its
own form and character. Besides, the hail, even were it not of this
shape, might be rounded in its fall, and worn equally on all sides into
globular form as it is again and again whirled round in its descent
through the space of thick air it traverses. Snow, on the contrary,
cannot be affected thus, because it is not so solid, being indeed very
much scattered, and falling from no great height. It has its source
in the neighbourhood of the earth, and its descent is of no great
distance through the air, but starts from a point quite close by. Why
should I not allow myself the same licence as Anaxagoras in differing 5
from my authorities? Nowhere can equality of rights be claimed with
more propriety than among the philosophers. Hail is simply ice held
suspended in mid-air; snow is a floating congealed mass of the nature
of hoar-frost. I have already said that the difference between water
and dew is reproduced in the difference of hoar-frost and ice, and, in
like manner, in that between snow and hail.
IV
I might take leave of the question here, holding that I had finished 1
it. But I will give you good measure, and, having begun to trouble you
with my speculations, I will discuss everything connected with the
topic. One of the cognate questions is, why in winter there is snow but
no hail, while in spring, after the worst of the cold is over, there
are falls of hail. For let me be deceived for your benefit, though I
may say I am fully persuaded of the truth of what I am about to affirm.
I lend always a credulous ear to these trivial falsehoods; perhaps
they deserve to be punished by having one’s mouth stopped, but they 2
hardly call for the putting out of one’s eyes! In winter the atmosphere
is stiff, and is therefore not as yet capable of being converted into
water, but only into snow, to which the atmosphere is more akin. But
when spring begins, a greater variation of the atmosphere ensues, and,
the sky being warmer, the drops are larger. Therefore, as our poet
Virgil says:
When rain-charged spring descends,
there is a more violent change in the atmosphere, which everywhere
opens up and relaxes through the action of the mere warmth. For this
reason the clouds that are carried to earth are heavy and large 3
rather than lasting. Winter rain is thin and persistent. The fall often
occurs in the form of small, fine rain, with an admixture of snow.
We call it a snowy day when the cold is intense and the sky leaden.
Besides, when the north wind doth blow, producing its characteristic
sky, there may be fine rain. With south wind the rain is more
persistent, and the drops heavier.
V
One position held by the philosophers of my sect I neither venture 1
to adopt on account of its seeming weakness, nor yet can I pass it by
without mention. Where can be the harm of suggesting even an improbable
explanation when one has such an indulgent judge? If we are to apply
a test like the pyx to every argument, we shall soon cease to advance
any hypothesis at all and be reduced to dumbness. There are very few
statements that pass unchallenged. All the rest have to assert their
rights before they can win their case. Well, the assertion of the
Stoics is, that all the ice-bound region about Scythia and Pontus and
the northern quarter is released from its chain in spring; then the
frozen rivers resume their course, then the mountains melt the snows in
which they have been buried. It is quite conceivable, therefore, that
cool airs arise from this and mingle with the atmosphere of spring.
They add a proof which I have never tested nor have any intention of 2
testing. You, too, I fancy, however anxious you may be to ascertain the
truth, will be cautious about making such a trial of snow. The feet are
said to suffer less pain when one treads on hard, solid snow than if
the snow were slushy and half melted. Well, then, if the Stoics do not
lie, all the currents of air wafted from those northern parts, when the
snow has now been dislodged and the ice is breaking up, condense and
bind the atmosphere of the southern region which is already becoming
warm and moist. So what was going to be rain becomes, through the
violence done by the cold, hail instead.
VI
I cannot refrain from trotting out all the silly fancies of ourStoic 1
friends. The assertion in question is that there are some people
skilled in observing the clouds who foretell when a hail shower is
coming on. They gather this just from experience by marking the colour
of the clouds and noting which was on previous occasions followed
by hail. It seems incredible that at Cleonae there were hail-guards
(χαλαζοφύλακες) appointed by the state to look out for the approach
of hail. When they had given the signal that the hail was close at
hand, what do you think? that people ran off to get their overcoats
or cloaks? Nay, they each offered sacrifice as fast as they could, 2
one a lamb, another a chicken. Forthwith, those clouds after getting a
little taste of blood drew off in another direction. You smile! There
is something to make you smile more broadly. If one had not a lamb or
kid by, one laid hands upon oneself to an extent that could be done
without serious damage. You must not think the clouds greedy or cruel;
one merely pricked one’s finger with a well-sharpened style and made
atonement with this blood. The hail as invariably turned away from his
little plot as from the estate of the man who had prevailed upon it
through the offering of greater victims.
VII
Certain writers seek for a rational explanation of this practice. One 1
school, adopting the only line that comports with philosophy, deny
the possibility of making any bargain with hail and buying off storms
by paltry presents, true, though it be, that gifts overcome even gods.
Others affirm their suspicion that blood itself contains a virtue
potent enough to avert and repel a cloud. But how, I ask, should a
drop or two of blood possess a virtue to reach on high and influence
the clouds? Is it not much easier to say, the whole thing is a parcel
of lies? But Cleonae was strict in dealing with its warders who had 2
received charge of looking out beforehand for the storm, if it happened
that through their neglect the vineyards had been beaten down or the
crops laid. And among ourselves, too, at Rome the laws of the Twelve
Tables introduce safeguards against the blighting of a neighbour’s
crops by charms. Antiquity as yet untutored entertained the belief that
rain could be attracted or repelled by incantations. The impossibility
of such fancies is so evident that one need not enter a school of
philosophy in order to be taught how to disprove them.
VIII
I shall add one more remark which you will be very glad, I am sure, to
approve and applaud. It is asserted that snow is formed in the part
of the atmosphere near the earth. This layer has more heat than any
other, and that for three reasons. One is that all evaporation from
the earth, containing as it does much dry, glowing matter, is always
the hotter, the more recently it has left the ground. The second is
that the sun’s rays are reflected from the ground and return upon
themselves. Their reflection heats up the parts next the ground, which
thus have more warmth from getting the sun’s heat twice. The third
reason is that the upper regions are more subject to wind; but all
places that are sunk are less wind-swept.
IX
To the foregoing Democritus’ explanation falls to be added. Every body
receives heat more quickly and retains it longer in proportion to its
solidity. For example, if three vessels, of copper, glass, and silver
respectively, are set in the sun, the heat will penetrate the copper
one soonest and will remain in it longest. The reason why Democritus
is of this opinion may also be added. In the bodies, he says, that are
harder, more compact, and dense, the openings must of necessity be
smaller than in others, and in each of the openings the film of air
must be thinner. It follows that just as smaller baths and smaller
cylinders are heated more rapidly than others, so these concealed
apertures, so small as to elude the eye, both feel the heat more
quickly, and by reason of this same smallness of calibre give back more
slowly the heat they have received.
X
This long preamble leads up to the point we are now examining. All air
is the denser the nearer it is to the earth. In water and other liquids
the dregs are always at the bottom; in like manner in the atmosphere
the thickest portions settle down to the lowest part nearest the earth.
But it has already been proved that all things, in proportion as they
are denser and more compact in their consistency, guard more faithfully
the heat they have received. On the other hand, the more exalted the
air is, and the farther it is withdrawn from the pollutions of earth,
the less contaminated and the more pure it is; and so it does not
retain the sun’s rays, but transmits them as if through a vacuum; hence
it is less warmed by them.
XI
But contrariwise, certain persons assert that mountain peaks ought to 1
be warmer in the degree in which they are nearer the sun. Such people
seem to me, however, to be astray in supposing that the Apennines and
the Alps and other mountains famed for their exceeding height are so
greatly elevated that their size should enable them to feel in any
special way the sun’s proximity. No doubt those are lofty heights so
long as the standard of comparison is ourselves. But when one regards
the size of the universe, the lowness of them all becomes evident.
Compared with one another, mountains are surpassed or surpass in
height. But nothing on earth is elevated so high that even the 2
greatest of objects should be any[68] appreciable portion in comparison
with the whole universe. Were this not so, we should not be in the
habit of saying that the whole earth is a ball. The distinctive mark of
a ball is a certain uniform rotundity, much the same as the uniformity
seen in a football or cricket ball.[69] The seams and chinks constitute
no great objection to the ball being described as symmetrical on all
sides. As in a playing ball, those spaces do not in any way prevent 3
the appearance of roundness, no more, in the earth at large regarded as
a sphere, do lofty mountains, whose height is lost in a comparison with
the whole world. A person who says that a higher mountain ought to be
warmer from receiving the sun’s rays at a shorter distance, may just as
well say that a taller man should be heated sooner than a dwarf, and
his head sooner than his feet! But any one who will take the trouble 4
to judge the universe by its proper standard, and who will reflect
that this earth occupies but a single point in space, will not fail to
perceive that nothing on earth can be of such eminence as to be more
sensible than others of the influence of the heavenly bodies, as if it
had approached their neighbourhood. Those mountains at which we gaze
up, their summits weighed down with eternal snows, are none the less
but low and humble. While it is true that a mountain _is_ nearer the
sun than is plain or valley, yet it is in the same sense as javelin is
spoken of as thicker than javelin, tree as larger than tree, mountain
than mountain. Accordingly to that mode of speech of yours, one tree 5
must be said to be nearer the sky than another; which is false, because
among puny objects there cannot exist great differences except while
they are compared with one another. When one comes to compare such
objects with the mighty frame of things, it is immaterial how much the
one is bigger than the other, because the very small things, however
great the differences among them, are quite dwarfed by comparison with
the universe.
[68] The argument seems to require _ulla_ = any, instead of _nulla_ =
no.
[69] The specific references are not contained in the Latin words;
the modern counterpart of the Roman games of ball serves, however, to
bring out the meaning of the illustration.
XII
But to return to my main theme; for the reasons which I have detailed,
most authorities are satisfied that snow is formed in the part of the
atmosphere which is in the vicinity of the earth. It is less compacted
than hail because congealed through less intense cold. For the air near
us has at once too much cold to allow its passage into water and rain,
and at the same time too little to get hardened into hail. Through this
moderate but not too intense cold the water is massed and turns into
snow.
XIII
Why, I fancy I hear you say, do you pursue so laboriously those 1
frivolous explanations of yours, by which no one is made either more
accomplished or more virtuous? You tell us all about the formation of
snow; it would be far more to the point that we should be told why it
is a wrong thing for snow to be bought.[70] I see you wish to drag me
into a dispute with luxury, a quarrel of daily occurrence that never
leads to any tangible result. Let us withal brace ourselves for the
struggle; even if luxury win the day, it must find us fighting and
resisting to the death.
[70] _I.e._ the moral turpitude of sinking into such debased luxury
as to require snow should be set forth rather than mere theories of
the formation of snow; the ethical should take precedence of the
physical.
Well then! do you suppose that the examination of nature, irrelevant
as it may appear, makes no contribution to the object you have at
heart? When we inquire how snow is formed, telling that its character 2
resembles hoar-frost, containing more air than water, do you not think
that it is a reproach upon the epicures? If it is a scandalous thing to
buy water, they are still worse, for they do not get even water [but
chiefly air] for their money. Let us, I say, inquire rather how snow
is formed than how it is preserved. The means of preservation have
already been discovered; not content with racking wines of vintage,
arranging them by flavour and age, we have devised means of compressing
snow to overcome the power of summer, and of protecting it by the
coolness of the icehouses from the hotness of the season. And what have
we accomplished by all our anxious efforts? The privilege of buying 3
water that we might have got for nothing! We are vexed that we cannot
buy air and sunlight, and that the atmosphere all around streams in
easily and unbought upon the fastidious and the rich. How badly nature
treats us in leaving anything that is common property! Upon this other
element, water, which nature has allowed to flow for the free use
of mankind, and which she has given the whole world to drink, this
that she has shed forth with lavish prodigality for the service alike
of man and of beasts and birds and the very laziest of the animal
creation--upon this, luxury, with ill-conceived ingenuity, has 4
managed to put a price. In fact, nothing can please luxury unless it is
expensive. Water was the one thing that used to bring down the rich to
the level of the common herd, in which the wealthy could not surpass
the very poorest. Those who found their riches a burden have devised a
plan whereby water should become a luxury.
How it has come about that no running water should be thought cool
enough, I will now explain. As long as the stomach is healthy and is
able to relish wholesome food, with which it is satisfied and not
overloaded, it is quite content with the natural stimulants. But
when through daily indigestion it suffers from the heat not of the 5
season but of its own indulgence, when habitual drunkenness has taken
firm hold on the organs of life, and turns into bile which parches
the intestines, then it becomes necessary to seek out some means of
quenching the internal heat. Water merely inflames it, the disease
is aggravated by the remedies. Therefore, for this purpose they use
snow for drink, not only in summer, but even in the depths of winter.
The cause can be no other than the internal complaint. Digestion is
spoiled through indulgence; respite is never given it in which to rest.
Breakfast is heaped upon a supper prolonged till daylight. While the
revellers are literally bursting with the lavishness and variety of the
courses, heavy drinking plunges them still deeper in the mire.
Then the continuous excess causes heartburn from the food previously 6
consumed, and inflames the constant craving for some new stimulant.
So, though they protect the banqueting hall with draperies and windows,
and seek by roaring fires to banish winter’s colds, none the less the
languishing appetite, exhausted by its own heat, yearns for something
new to revive it. Just as we sprinkle cold water on people who have
lost consciousness through a fainting fit, in order to bring them back
to their senses; so the internal organs, numbed through excess, are
past feeling, unless they are smitten by the parching, as it were, of
more violent cold. Hence it is, I say, that not content even with 7
snow, they call for ice, as if the stimulant were the more certain from
its solidity, and melt it with repeated douches of water. The ice, too,
is not taken from the surface, but, that it may have greater virtue
and more lasting cold, it is dug out of the depths of the pile. Thus
it is not even of uniform price; but water actually has its hawkers
and--alas the day!--a varying price. The Lacedaemonians once banished
the perfumers from their city, ordering them to quit the country with
all speed, because they were wasting the oil supply. What would they
have done, I wonder, if they had seen cold stores for preserving snow 8
and such an army of beasts employed in carting water, whose colour and
flavour are often all spoiled by the straw in which it is kept?
Good heavens! how easy a thing it is to quench the thirst of health!
But what feeling can jaws retain that are deadened and numbed by
scalding food? These epicures can have nothing cold enough, neither
can they have anything hot enough. Mushrooms taken from the fire and
hastily dipped in their special sauce are crammed down the throat 9
almost boiling, and the heat has to be allayed by draughts chilled in
snow. One may see, I tell you, slender youths, rigged out in cloaks and
mufflers, pale and sickly, not merely sipping the snow, but actually
eating it, throwing little pieces of it into their glasses to prevent
them from getting warm during the intervals of drinking. Do you call
that honest thirst? It is fever, the more acute too as it cannot be 10
detected by the pulse or the wonted heat that overspreads the skin. The
very heart is dried up by that incurable malady, luxury, whose habitual
weakness and unsteadiness are turned into endurance and obstinacy.
Don’t you know that habit dulls the force of everything? The snow in
which you are now, so to speak, swimming[71] has through custom and the
daily slavery of the stomach come to occupy the place of water. You
must now search for something colder still; for a stimulant that is
habitual is no stimulant at all.
[71] Which you now use in your baths.