Book XVII. The Natural History of the Cultivated Trees.

Chaps. 1-3.

Chap. 1. (1.)—Trees Which Have Been Sold at Enormous Prices.

We have described the trees which grow spontaneously on land and in the sea, [He alludes to the various shrubs and trees, mentioned as growing in the sea, B. xiii. c.; but which there is little doubt, in reality belong to the class of fuci.] and it now remains for us to speak of those which owe their formation, properly speaking, rather than birth, to art and the inventive genius of man. [“Fiunt verius quam nascuntur;” a distinction perpetuated in the adage, “Poeta nascitur, non fit.”] Here, however, I cannot but express my surprise, that after the state of penury in which man lived, as already described, [He probably alludes to his remark in B. xvi. c..] in primitive times, holding the trees of the forest in common with the wild beasts, and disputing with them the possession of the fruits that fell, and with the fowls of the air that of the fruits as they hung on the tree, luxury has now attached to them prices so enormous.

The most famous instance, in my opinion, of this excess, was that displayed by L. Crassus and Cneius Domitius Ahenobarbus. Crassus was one of the most celebrated of the Roman orators; his house was remarkable for its magnificence, though in some measure surpassed even by that of Q. Catulus, [Q. Luctatius Catulus, the colleague of Marius. Being afterwards condemned to die by Marius, he suffocated himself with the fumes of charcoal.] also upon the Palatine Hill; the same Catulus, who, in conjunction with C. Marius, defeated the Cimbri. But by far the finest house of all that period, it was universally acknowledged, was that of C. Aquilius, a Roman of Equestrian rank, situate upon the Viminal Hill; a house, indeed, that conferred a greater degree of celebrity upon him than even his acquaintance with the civil law. This, however, did not prevent Crassus being reproached with the magnificence of his. Crassus and Domitius, members, both of them, of the most illustrious families, after holding the consulship, [A.U.C. 659.] were appointed jointly to the censorship, in the year from the building of the City 662, a period of office that was fruitful in strife, the natural result of their dissimilarity of character. On one occasion, Cneius Domitius, naturally a man of hasty temper, and inflamed besides by a hatred that rivalry only tends to stimulate, gravely rebuked Crassus for living, and he a Censor too, in a style of such magnificence, and in a house for which, as he said, he himself would be ready to pay down ten millions of sesterces. Crassus, a man who united to singular presence of mind great readiness of wit, made answer that, deducting six trees only, he would accept the offer; upon which Domitius replied, that upon those terms he would not give so much as a single denarius for the purchase. “Well then, Domitius,” was the rejoinder of Crassus, “which of the two is it that sets a bad example, and deserves the reproof of the censorship; I, who live like a plain man in a house that has come to me by inheritance, or you, who estimate six trees at a value of ten millions of sesterces?” [Valerius Maximus, B. ix. c. 1, relates this story somewhat differently.] These trees were of the lotus [The Celtis Australis of Linnæus.] kind, and by the exuberance of their branches afforded a most delightful shade. Cæcina Largus, one of the grandees of Rome, and the owner of the house, used often to point them out to me in my younger days; and, as I have already made mention [See B. xxxvi. cc. 3 and 24.] of the remarkable longevity of trees, I would here add, that they were in existence down to the period when the Emperor Nero set fire to the City, one hundred and eighty years after the time of Crassus; being still green and with all the freshness of youth upon them, had not that prince thought fit to hasten the death of the very trees even.

Let no one, however, imagine that the house of Crassus was of no value in other respects, or that, from the rebuke of Domitius, there was nothing about it worthy of remark with the exception of these trees. There were to be seen erected in the atrium four columns of marble from Mount Hymettus, [See B. xxxvi. cc. 3 and 24.] which in his ædileship he had ordered to be brought over for the decoration of the stage; [When, in his capacity of ædile, he gave theatrical representations for the benefit of the public.] and this at a time, too, when no public buildings even as yet possessed any pillars made of that material. Of such recent date is the luxury and opulence which we now enjoy, and so much greater was the value which in those days trees were supposed to confer upon a property! A pretty good proof of which, was the fact that Domitius even, with all his enmity, would not keep to the offer he had made, if the trees were not to be included in the bargain.

The trees have furnished surnames also to the ancients, [As Fée remarks, this usage has been reversed in modern times, and plants often receive their botanical names from men.] such, for instance, as that of Fronditius to the warrior who swam across the Volturnus with a wreath of leaves on his head, and distinguished himself by his famous exploits in the war against Hannibal; and that of Stolo [See B. xviii. c. 4.] to the Licinian family, such being the name given by us to the useless suckers that shoot from trees; the best method of clearing away these shoots was discovered by the first Stolo, and hence his name. The ancient laws also took the trees under their protection; and by the Twelve Tables it was enacted, that he who should wrongfully cut down trees belonging to another person, should pay twenty-five asses for each. Is it possible then to imagine that they, who estimated the fruit-trees at so low a rate as this, could ever have supposed that so exorbitant a value would be put upon the lotus as that which I have just mentioned? And no less marvellous, too, are the changes that have taken place in the value of fruit; for at the present day we find the fruit alone of many of the trees in the suburbs valued at no less a sum than two thousand sesterces; the profits derived from a single tree thus being more than those of a whole estate in former times. It was from motives of gain that the grafting of trees and the propagation thereby of a spurious offspring was first devised, so that the growth of the fruits even might be a thing interdicted to the poor. We shall, therefore, now proceed to state in what way it is that such vast revenues are derived from these trees, and with that object shall set forth the true and most approved methods of cultivation; not taking any notice of the more common methods, or those which we find generally adopted, but considering only those points of doubt and uncertainty, in relation to which practical men are most apt to find themselves at a loss: while, at the same time, to affect any scrupulous exactness in cases where there is no necessity for it, will be no part of our purpose. In the first place, however, we will consider in a general point of view, those influences of soil as well as weather which are exercised upon all the trees in common.

Chap. 2. (2.)—The Influence of Weather Upon the Trees: What Is the Proper Situation for the Vine.

Trees are fond of a site more particularly that faces the north-east; [Or north north-east, as Fée says. He adds that this aspect in reality is not favourable to vegetation. Pliny commits the error of copying exactly from Theophrastus, and thereby giving advice to Roman agriculturists, which was properly suited to the climate of Greece only.] the breezes rendering their foliage more thick and exuberant, and imparting additional solidity to the wood. This is a point, however, upon which most people are very greatly deceived; thus in vineyards, for instance, the props ought not to be placed in such a position as to shelter the stems from the wind in that quarter, it being only against the northern blasts that this precaution should be taken. Nay, even more than this—if the cold weather only comes on in due season, it contributes very materially to the strengthening of the trees, and promotes the process of germination; while, on the other hand, if at that period the southern [This is borrowed from Theophrastus; but, as Fée remarks, if suitable to the climate of Greece, it is not so to that of Italy or France, where vegetation is much more promoted by a south wind.] breezes should caress them, they will grow weak and languid, and more particularly so, if the blossom is just coming on. If rainy weather, too, should happen to follow close upon blossoming, the total destruction of the fruit is the necessary result: indeed, if the weather should be only cloudy, or south winds happen to prevail, it is quite sufficient to ensure the loss of the fruit in the almond and the pear. [This assertion, Fée says, is erroneous. See B. xvi. c..] Rains, if prevalent about the rising of the Vergiliæ, [B. xviii. c. 66.] are most injurious to the vine and the olive, [See c. of this Book. These notions as to critical periods to plants connected with the constellations, Fée says, are now almost dispelled; though they still prevail in France, to some extent.] as it is at that season that germination [“Coitus.” See B. xvi. cc. and.] is commencing with them; indeed, this is a most critical four days for the olive, being the period at which the south wind, as we have already [See B. xvi. c..] stated, brings on its dark and lowering clouds. The cereals, too, ripen more unfavourably when south winds prevail, though at the same time it proceeds with greater rapidity. All cold, too, is injurious to vegetation, which comes with the northern winds, or out of the proper season. It is most advantageous to all plants for north-east winds [From Theophrastus, De Causis, B. ii. c. 1.] to prevail throughout the winter.

In this season, too, showers are very necessary, and the reason is self-evident—the trees, being exhausted by the fruit they have borne, and weakened by the loss of their leaves, are, of course, famished and hungry; and it is the showers that constitute their aliment. Experience has led us to believe that there is nothing more detrimental than a warm winter; for it allows the trees, the moment they have parted with their fruits, to conceive again, or, in other words, to germinate, and then exhaust themselves by blossoming afresh. And what is even worse than this, should there be several years of such weather in succession, even the trees themselves will die; for there can be little doubt that the effort must of necessity be injurious, when they put forth their strength, and are at the same time deprived of their natural sustenance. The poet [He alludes to the words of Virgil, Georg. i. 100:— “Humida solstitia, atque hiemes orate serenas, Agricolæ; hiberno lætissima pulvere farra.” Fée remarks, that the cultivators of the modern times are more of the opinion of the poet than the naturalist.] then, who has said that serene winters are to be desired, certainly did not express those wishes in favour of the trees. And no more does rain, if prevalent at the summer-solstice, conduce to the benefit [Because rains would cause the young fruit to fall off. He here attacks the first portion of the precepts of Virgil; but only, it appears, in reference to the vine.] of the vine: while, at the same time, to say that a dusty winter produces a luxuriant harvest, is certainly the mistake of a too fertile imagination. It is a thing greatly to be wished, too, both in behalf of the trees as well as the cereals, that the snows should lie for a considerable time upon the ground; the reason being that they check the escape of the spirit of the earth by evaporation, and tend to throw it back again upon the roots of the plants, adding greatly to their strength thereby; and not only this, but they afford a gradual supply of moisture as well, that is both pure and of remarkable lightness, from the fact that snow is only the foam of the waters of heaven. Hence it is that the moisture of snow does not drench and engulph everything all at once, but gradually trickles downwards, in proportion to the thirst of the plant, nurturing it as though from the breast, instead of producing an inundation. The earth, too, ferments under this influence, and becomes filled with her own emanations: not exhausted by the seeds in her bosom, swollen as they are with milk, [“Lactescentibus.” Fée remarks on the appropriateness of this expression, as the act of germination, he says, in the cereals and all the seeds in which the perisperm is feculent, changes the fecula into an emulsive liquid, in which state the seed may be said, with Pliny, to be “lactescent.”] she smiles in the warm and balmy hours, when the time comes for opening it. It is in this way, more particularly, that corn fattens apace, except, indeed, in those climates in which the atmosphere is always warm, Egypt for example; for there the continuance of the same temperature and the force of habit are productive of the same effects as the modifications of temperature in other countries.

At the same time it is equally necessary in every climate that there should be no noxious influence in existence. Thus, for instance, in the greater part of the world, that precocious germination which has been encouraged by the indulgent temperature of the weather, is sure to be nipped by the intense colds that ensue. Hence it is that late winters are so injurious, and such they prove to the trees of the forest even; indeed, these last are more particularly exposed to the ill effects of a late winter, oppressed as they are by the density of their foliage, and human agency being unable to succour them; for it would be quite impossible to cover [Which appears to have been extensively done with the young garden trees.] the more tender forest trees with wisps of straw. Rains, then, are favourable to vegetation—first of all, during the winter season, and next, just previously to germination; the third period for them being that of the formation of the fruit, though not immediately, and only, in fact, when the produce of the tree shows itself strong and healthy.

Those trees which are the slowest in bringing their fruits to maturity, and require a more prolonged supply of nutriment, receive benefit also from late rains, such as the vine, the olive, and the pomegranate, for instance. These rains, however, are required at different seasons by the different trees, some of them coming to maturity at one period and some at another; hence it is that we see the very same rain productive of injury to some trees and beneficial to others, even when they are of the very same species, as in the pear for instance: for the winter pear stands in need of rain at one period, and the early pear at another, though at the same time they, all of them, require it in an equal degree. Winter precedes the period of germination, and it is this fact that makes the north-east wind more beneficial than the south, and renders the parts that lie in the interior preferable to those near the coast,—the former being generally the coldest,—mountainous districts better than level ones, and rain at night better than showers in the day. Vegetation, too, receives a greater degree of benefit from the water when the sun does not immediately soak it up.

Connected, too, with this subject is the question of the best situation for planting vines, and the trees which support them. Virgil [Georg. ii. 398.] condemns a western aspect, while there are some persons, again, who prefer it to an easterly one: I find, however, that most authors approve of the south, though I do not think that any abstract precepts [Taken altogether, a southern aspect is preferable to all others.] can be given in relation to the point. The most careful attention on the part of the cultivator ought to be paid to the nature of the soil, the character of the locality, and the respective influences of climate. The method of giving to the vine a southern aspect, as practised in Africa and * * * * is injurious to the tree, as well as unhealthy for the cultivator, from the very circumstance that the country itself lies under a southern meridian: hence it is, that he who selects for his plants there a western or a northerly aspect, will combine on the most advantageous terms the benefits of soil with those of climate. When Virgil condemns a western aspect, there can be no doubt that he includes in his censure a northern aspect as well: and yet, in Cisalpine Italy, where most of the vineyards have an aspect to the north, it has been found by experience that there are none that are more prolific.

The winds are also a very important consideration. In the provinces of Gallia Narbonensis, and in Liguria and part of Etruria, it is considered a proof of great want of skill to plant the vine on a site that lies in the teeth of the wind Circius, [See B. ii. c. 46.] while, on the other hand, it is a mark of prudence to catch its breezes in an oblique direction; it is this wind, in fact, that modifies the heat in those countries, though at the same time it is usually so violent, as to sweep away the roofs of the houses.

(3.) There are some persons who employ a method of making the question of weather dependent upon the nature of the soil; thus in the case of a vineyard, for instance, in a dry locality, they give it an eastern or a northern aspect; but where it is planted on a humid site, it is made to face the south. From the varieties of the vine also, they borrow various modifications in reference to site; taking care to plant the early vine in a cold locality, in order that the fruit may ripen before the frosts come on; while such fruit trees and vines as have an antipathy to dews are exposed to the east, that the sun may carry off their humidity at the earliest moment. On the other hand, such as manifest a partiality to dews are planted with a western or even a northern aspect, to give them an opportunity of enjoying them all the longer. Others, again, borrowing their notions pretty nearly from Nature, have recommended that vines and trees should be planted facing the north-east; indeed Democritus is of opinion, that by so doing the fruit will be all the more odoriferous.

(4.) We have already spoken, in the Second Book, [Cc. and.] of the points of the north-east and other winds, and shall have occasion in the succeeding one to make mention of several more of the heavenly phænomena. In the mean time, however, we may observe that it would appear to be a manifest proof of the salubrity of a north-east site, that the leaves are always the first to fall in the trees that have an aspect towards the south. [He seems to lose sight of the fact that they bud before those that look to the north.] A similar reason exists, too, in the maritime districts; in certain localities the sea breezes are detrimental, though in most they are nutritious. For some plants, again, it is pleasant to behold the sea at a distance, while at the same time they will gain nothing by approaching closer to its saline exhalations. The same, too, is the influence exercised by rivers and lakes; they will either scorch the vegetation by the fogs they emit, or else modify by their coolness the excess of heat. We have already mentioned [B. xvi. cc.,.] the plants that thrive in the shade, and in the cold even; but in all these matters experience will be found the best of guides.

Chap. 3.—What Soils Are to Be Considered the Best.

Next after the influences of the heavens, we have to treat of those of the earth, a task that is in no way more easy than the previous one. It is but rarely that the same soil is found suited to trees as well as corn: indeed, the black [A rich black mould, probably.] earth which prevails in Campania is not everywhere found suited to the vine, nor yet that which emits light exhalations, or the red [A ferruginous argilla.] soil that has been so highly praised by many. The cretaceous earth that is found in the territory of Alba Pompeia, and an argillaceous soil, are preferred to all others for the vine, although, too, they are remarkably rich, a quality that is generally looked upon as not suited to that plant. On the other hand, again, the white sand of the district of Ticinum, the black sand of many other places, and the red sand as well, even though mixed with a rich earth, will prove unproductive.

The very signs, also, from which we form our judgment are often very deceptive; a soil that is adorned with tall and graceful trees is not always a favourable one, except, of course, for those trees. What tree, in fact, is there that is taller than the fir? and yet what other plant could possibly exist in the same spot? Nor ought we always to look upon verdant pastures as so many proofs of richness of soil; for what is there that enjoys a greater renown than the pastures of Germany? and yet they consist of nothing but a very thin layer of turf, with sand immediately beneath. Nor yet is the soil which produces herbage [It must of necessity denote a soil rich in humus, though not, of course, adapted for all kinds of cultivation.] of large growth always to be looked upon as humid; no, by Hercules! no more than a soil is to be looked upon as unctuous and rich, which adheres to the fingers—a thing that is proved in the case of the argillaceous earths. [He alludes to the difficulty with which argilla, from its tenacity, is employed in cultivation.] The earth when thrown back into the hole from which it has just been dug will never [Columella says the contrary, and so does Virgil, Georg. ii. 226, speaking of this fact as a method of ascertaining the respective qualities of the earth.] fill it, so that it is quite impossible by that method to form any opinion as to its density or thinness. It is the fact, too, that every [Virgil, Georg. ii. 220, says the contrary.] soil, without exception, will cover iron with rust. Nor yet can we determine [In allusion to what Virgil says, Georg. ii. 254:— “Quæ gravis est, ipso tacitam se pondere prodit, Quæque levis——” Fée remarks, however, that it is easy enough to analyse the earth, and ascertain the proportions of humus, and of the siliceous, cretaceous, or argillaceous earths; the relative proportions of which render it strong or light, as the case may be.] the heaviness or lightness of soils in relation to any fixed and ascertained weight: for what are we to understand as the standard weight of earth? A soil, too, that is formed from the alluvion [As Fée says, these earths vary according to the nature of the soils that are brought down by the streams; in general, however, they are extremely prolific.] of rivers is not always to be recommended, for there are some crops that decay all the sooner in a watery soil; indeed, those soils even of this description which are highly esteemed, are never found to be long good for any kind of vegetation but the willow.

Among other proofs of the goodness of soil, is the comparative thickness of the stem in corn. In Laborium, a famous champaign country of Campania, the stalk is of such remarkable thickness, that it may be used even to supply the place of wood: [Fée says that Pliny is here guilty of some degree of exaggeration. See B. iii. c. 9, p. 195 of Vol. 1: also B. xviii. c. 29.] and yet this very soil, from the difficulty that is everywhere experienced in cultivating it, and the labour required in working it, may be almost said to give the husbandman more trouble by its good qualities than it could possibly have done by reason of any defects. The soil, too, that is generally known as charcoal earth, appears susceptible of being improved by being planted with a poor meagre vine: and tufa, [“Tophus;” formed of volcanic scoriæ. Fée remarks, that it is somewhat similar in nature to marl, and that though unproductive by itself, it is beneficial when mixed with vegetable earth. Tufa and marl appear to have been often confounded by the ancient writers.] which is naturally rough and friable, we find recommended by some authors. Virgil, [Georg. ii. 189.] too, does not condemn for the vine a soil which produces fern: [The Pteris aquilina of the modern botanists.] while a salted earth [Marine salt, or sub-hydrochlorate of soda, Fée thinks, is here alluded to. It is still used with varied success in some parts of the west of France.] is thought to be much better entrusted with the growth of vegetation than any other, from the fact of its being comparatively safe from noxious insects breeding there. Declivities, too, are far from unproductive, if a person only knows how to dig them properly; and it is not all [Hardouin says, that he here alludes to the proverbial saying among the ancients, “Perflare altissima ventos”—“The winds blow only on the most elevated ground.”] champaign spots that are less accessible to the sun and wind than is necessary for their benefit. We have already [In B. xiv. cc. and.] alluded to the fact, that there are certain vines which find nutriment in hoar frosts and fogs.

In every subject there are certain deep and recondite secrets, which it is left to the intelligence of each to penetrate. Do we not, for instance, find it the fact, that soils which have long offered opportunities for a sound judgment being formed on their qualities have become totally altered? In the vicinity of Larissa, in Thessaly, a lake was drained; [“Emisso.” Fée would appear to think that the lake suddenly made its appearance, after an earthquake, and from the context he would appear to be right. These accounts are all of them borrowed from Theophrastus.] and the consequence was, that the district became much colder, and the olive-trees which had formerly borne fruit now ceased to bear. When a channel was cut for the Hebrus, near the town of Ænos, the place was sensible of its nearer approach, in finding its vines frost-bitten, a thing that had never happened before; in the vicinity, too, of Philippi, the country having been drained for cultivation, the nature of the climate became entirely altered. In the territory of Syracuse, a husbandman, who was a stranger to the place, cleared the soil of all the stones, and the consequence was, that he lost his crops from the accumulation of mud; so that at last he was obliged to carry the stones back again. In Syria again, the plough-share which they use is narrow, and the furrows are but very superficial, there being a rock beneath the soil that in summer scorches up the seeds.

Then, too, the effects of excessive cold and heat in various places are similar; thus, for instance, Thrace is fruitful in corn, by reason of the cold, while Africa and Egypt are so in consequence of the heat that prevails there. At Chalcia, [See B. v. c. 36.] an island belonging to the Rhodians, there is a certain place which is so remarkably fertile, that after reaping the barley that has been sown at the ordinary time, and gathering it in, they immediately sow a fresh crop, and reap it at the same time as the other corn. A gravelly soil is found best suited for the olive in the district of Venafrum, [See B. xv. c..] while one of extreme richness is required for it in Bætica. The wines of Pucinum [See B. xiv. c..] are ripened upon a rock, and the vines of Cæcubum [See B. xiv. c..] are moistened by the waters of the Pomptine [See B. iii. c. 9.] marshes; so great are the differences that have been detected by human experience in the various soils. Cæsar Vopiscus, when pleading a cause before the Censors, said that the fields of Rosia [See B. iii. c. 17.] are the very marrow [Sumen. Properly, “udder.” A cow’s udder was considered one of the choicest of delicacies by the Romans.] of Italy, and that a stake, left in the ground there one day, would be found covered by the grass the next: [This is, of course, an exaggeration. The stake must have been driven in very deep to disappear so speedily.] the soil, however, is only esteemed there for the purposes of pasturage. Still, however, Nature has willed that we should not remain uninstructed, and has made full admission as to existing defects in soil, even in cases where she has failed to give us equal information as to its good qualities: we shall begin, therefore, by speaking of the defects that are found in various soils.

(5.) If it is the wish of a person to test whether a soil is bitter, or whether it is thin and meagre, the fact may be easily ascertained from the presence of black and undergrown herbs. If, again, the herbage shoots up dry and stunted, it shows that the soil is cold, and if sad and languid, that it is moist and slimy. The eye, too, is able to judge whether it is a red earth or whether it is argillaceous, both of them extremely difficult to work, and apt to load the harrow or ploughshare with enormous clods; though at the same time it should be borne in mind that the soil which entails the greatest amount of labour is not always productive of the smallest amount of profit. So, too, on the other hand, the eye can distinguish a soil that is mixed with ashes or with white sand, while earth that is sterile and dense may be easily detected by its peculiar hardness, at even a single stroke of the mattock.

Cato, [De Re Rust. 5.] briefly and in his peculiar manner, characterizes the defects that exist in the various soils. “Take care,” he says, “where the earth is rotten not to shake it either with carts or by driving cattle over it.” Now what are we to suppose that this term “rotten” means, as applied to a soil, about which he is so vastly apprehensive as to almost forbid our setting foot upon it? Let us only form a comparison by thinking what it is that constitutes rottenness in wood, and we shall find that the faults which are held by him in such aversion are the being arid, full of holes, rough, white, mouldy, worm-eaten, in fact, just like pumice-stone; and thus has Cato said more in a single word than we could have possibly found means to express in a description, however long. Indeed, if we could find means of expressing the various defects that exist in soils, we should find that there are some of them that are old, not with age (for age cannot [This he says in reference to his belief, with Epicurus, in the eternity of matter.] be concerned in relation to the earth), but of their own nature, and are hence unfruitful and powerless for every purpose from the first. The same writer, [De Re Rust. 1.] too, considers that as the very best of soils, which, situate at the foot of a declivity, runs out into a champaign country, taking a southward direction; such, in fact, being the aspect of the whole of Italy: [See B. iii. c. 6.] he says [De Re Rust. 151.] also, that the earth generally known as black [“Pulla.” The “vegetable” earth of modern botanists.] earth is of a tender nature, and is consequently the most easily worked and the best for cereals. If we only appreciate with due care the signification of this word “tender,” [“Teneram.”] we shall find that it expresses its intended meaning remarkably well, and that in this word is comprised every quality that is desirable for the purposes of cultivation. In a tender soil we shall find fertility combined with moderation, a softness and a pliancy easily adapted to cultivation, and an equal absence of humidity and of dryness. Earth of this nature will shine again after the plough-share has passed through it, just as Homer, [Iliad, xviii. 541 and 548.] that great fountain-head of all genius, has described it sculptured by the Divinity [Vulcan.] upon the arms [of Achilles], adding, too, a thing that is truly marvellous, that it was of a blackish hue, though gold was the material in which it was wrought. This, too, is that kind of earth, which, when newly turned up, attracts the ravenous birds that follow the plough-share, the ravens even going so far as to peck at the heels of the ploughman.

We may in this place appropriately make mention of an opinion that has been pronounced by an Italian writer also with reference to a matter of luxury. Cicero, [De Oratore, sec. 39.] that other luminary of literature, has made the following remark: “Those unguents which have a taste of earth [See B. xiii. c..] are better,” says he, “than those which smack of saffron;” it seeming to him more to the purpose to express himself by the word “taste” [“Sapiunt,” rather than “redolent.”] than “smell.” And such is the fact, no doubt; that soil is the best which has the flavour of a perfume. [This supposed flavour of the earth is, in reality, attributable to the extraneous vegetable matter which it contains.] If the question should be put to us, what is this odour of the earth that is held in such estimation, our answer is, that it is the same that is often to be recognized at the moment of sunset, without the necessity even of turning up the ground, at the spots where the extremities of the rainbow [See B. xii. c., as to this notion.] have been observed to meet the earth; as also when, after long-continued drought, the rain has soaked the ground. Then it is that the earth exhales this divine odour, that is so peculiarly its own, and to which, imparted to it by the sun, there is no perfume, however sweet, that can possibly be compared. It is this odour that the earth, when turned up, ought to emit, and which, when once found, can never deceive a person; and this will be found the best criterion for judging of the quality of the soil. Such, too, is the odour that is usually perceived on land newly cleared, [The reason being, that in such cases the soil is saturated with thyme, origanum, mint, and other odoriferous herbs.] when an ancient forest has been just cut down; its excellence is a thing that is universally admitted.

For the culture of the cereals, too, the same land is generally looked upon as the more improved the oftener it has been allowed to rest [This opinion is contrary to that expressed by Columella, B. ii. c. 1; but the justice of it is universally recognized. Upon this theory, too, is based the modern practice of alternating the crops in successive years, the necessity of providing for heavy rents, not allowing the land to enjoy absolute rest.] from cultivation, a thing that is not the case with vineyards; for which reason all the greater care is required in the selection of their site, if we would not have the opinions of those to appear well founded who entertain the notion that the soil of Italy is already worn out. [This has not come to pass even yet, nearly two thousand years since the days of Pliny.] In other kinds of soil the work of cultivation depends entirely upon the weather; as, for instance, in those which cannot be ploughed just after rain, because the natural exuberance of the earth renders it viscous and cloggy. On the other hand, in Byzacium, a district of Africa, and a champaign country of such singular fertility as to render grain one hundred and fifty fold, [See B. v. c. 3, and B. xviii. c. 21.] the soil is such, that in time of drought, not even bulls are able to plough it; while, on another occasion, just after a shower of rain, one poor ass, with an old woman to guide it, is quite sufficient, [Fée taxes our author here with exaggeration. For Byzacium, see B. v. c. 3, and B. xviii. c. 21.] as ourselves we have witnessed, to do the ploughing. But as to amending one soil by the agency of another, as some persons recommend, by throwing rich earth over one that is poor and thin, or by laying a soaking light soil over one that is humid and unctuous, it is a labour of perfect madness. [Nevertheless, as Fée remarks, the method is often practised with great success. Pliny is at issue here with Theophrastus, De Causis, B. iii. c. 25.] What can a man possibly hope for who cultivates such a soil as this?