Chaps. 67-69.

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: [A quotation from some unknown poet, Sillig thinks.] “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 [See B. xvi. c. 41.] 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. [See Virgil, Ecl. iii. l. 111.] 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; [Eleventh of May.] and the rising of the Lyre on the third [Thirteenth of May.] before the ides of May. The She-goat sets in the evening of the twelfth before [Twenty-first of May.] the calends of June, and in Attica the Dog. On the eleventh [Twenty-second of May.] before the calends of June, according to Cæsar, Orion’s Sword begins to appear; and, according to the same writer, on the fourth [Second of June.] before the nones of June the Eagle rises in the evening, and in Assyria as well. On the seventh [Seventh of June.] before the ides of June Arcturus sets in the morning to the people of Italy, and on the fourth [Tenth of June.] before the ides the Dolphin rises in the evening. On the seventeenth [Fifteenth of June.] before the calends of July Orion’s Sword rises in Italy, and, four days later, in Egypt. On the eleventh [Twenty-first of June.] before the calends of July, according to Cæsar’s reckoning, Orion’s Sword begins to set; and the eighth [Twenty-fourth of June.] 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 [First of June.] 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, [Columella, B. ii. c. 18.] 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, [The varieties now known as Trifolium pratense, Trifolium rubens and Trifolium repens.] and the next best is grass; [“Gramen.” Under this head, as Fée says, he probably includes the gramineous plants, known as Alopecurus, Phleum, Poa, Festuca, &c.] nummulus [Probably the Lysimachia nummularia of Linnæus, which has a tendency to corrode the lips of the sheep that pasture on it.] is the very worst of all, as it bears a pod which is particularly injurious; equisætis, [Known to us as “horse-tail;” varieties of which are the Equisetum fluviatile and the Equisetum palustre of Linnæus.] 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; [De Re Rust. c. 53.] “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. [See Virgil’s Georg. i. 289.] 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 [As to whetstones, for further information, see B. xxvi. c. 47.] 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 [The word “falx,” “sickle” or “scythe,” is used here as denoting an implement for mowing, and not reaping.] there are two varieties; the Italian, [Similar in shape to our sickle, or reaping hook, no doubt.] which is considerably shorter than the other, and can be handled among underwood even; and the Gallic, which makes quicker work [“Majoris compendii.” Similar to our reaping-hook, also. Fée thinks that the former was similar to the “faux faucille,” or false sickle, the latter to the common sickle of the French.] 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 [Fée says that this is the case in some parts of France.] 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 [In c. 59 of this Book.] that the summer solstice arrives at the eighth degree of Cancer, and upon the eighth day before [Twenty-fourth of June. See the.] 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 [On this subject see B. xvi. c. 36. See also Varro, De Re Rust. B. i. c. 46, and Aulus Gellius, B. ix. c. 7.] 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; [“Tenes Sidus.”] 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, [Twenty-sixth of June.] according to Cæsar’s reckoning, Orion rises, and upon the fourth [Fourth of July.] 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, [There is some confusion, apparently, here. Canicula, Syrius, or the Dog-star, belongs to the Constellation Canis Major; while Canis Minor a Constellation which contains the star Procyon, (“the forerunner of the Dog,”) precedes it.] 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 [Fourth of July.] 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 [Fourteenth of July.] the ides of July, the rising of Orion ends to the Egyptians also; on the sixteenth [Seventeenth of July.] 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. [B. ii. c. 40, and B. xix. c. 25.] 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 [Twentieth of July.] 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 [Twenty-third of July.] the calends of August. The Eagle sets in the morning of that day to the people of Attica, and on the third before [Thirtieth of July.] the calends of August, the Royal Star in the breast of Leo rises in the morning, according to Cæsar. On the eighth before [Sixth of August.] the ides of August, one half of Arcturus has ceased to be visible, and on the third before [Eleventh of August.] 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 [Eighth of August.] 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, [See B. xvii. c. 37.] 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, [Carbunculus.] 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, [Cicero. De Div., B. ii. 201, Aristotle, Polit. B. i. c. 7, and Diogenes Laertius tell this story of Thales the philosopher; Pliny being the only one that applies it to Democritus.] 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, [In the last Chapter. This passage is corrupt.] 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, [Mentioned by Seneca, Ep. 59.] 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 [It was reserved for the latter part of the last century to discover that mildew operated on vegetation through the medium of minute, parasitical fungi. It is mostly attributed to defects in the light or the atmosphere, or else humidity in excess. See c. of this Book.] 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 [In B. ii. c. 6, for instance.] 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 [An onomatic prejudice, as Fée says, solely founded on the peculiarity of the name.] 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 [In the preceding Chapter.] 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 [In the preceding Chapter.] 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 [In B. xvi. c. 42.] said that the Eagle rises in Italy on the thirteenth day [Twentieth of December.] 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, [Or festival in honour of Robigo, the Goddess of mildew, on the twenty-fifth of April. See Ovid’s Fasti, B. iv. l. 907, et seq.] 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 [Robigo.] 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 [“Nineteen” is the proper number.] 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. [“Et cui præoccidere caniculam necesse est.” The real meaning of this passage would seem to be,—“Before which, as a matter of course, Canicula must set.” But if so, Pliny is in error, for Canicula, or Procyon, sets heliacally after the Dog-star, though it rises before it. Hardouin observes, that it is abundantly proved from the ancient writers that it was the custom to sacrifice a puppy to Sirius, or the Dog-star, at the Robigalia. As Littré justly remarks, it would almost appear that Pliny intended, by his ambiguous language, to lead his readers into error.] The same people also, in the year of the City 513, instituted the Floralia, a festival held upon the fourth before [Twenty-eighth of April. The festival of Flora.] 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 [Twenty-third of April. This was the first, or Urban Vinalia: the second, or Rustic Vinalia, were held on the nineteenth of August.] the calends of May, for the purpose of tasting [The same as the Greek Πιθοίγια, or “opening of the Casks.”] 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 [Tenth of May.] the ides of May, as already mentioned on previous occasions. [In B. xvi. c. 42, and in c. 66 of this Book.] 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 [Second of June.] 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 [Twenty-fourth of June.] 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 [Fourth of July.] the nones of July, when Canicula rises to the people of Egypt, or at least on the sixteenth before [Seventeenth of July.] 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 [Twentieth of July.] the calends of August, when the Eagle sets, to the tenth before [Twenty-third of July.] the calends of that month. The Second Vinalia, which are celebrated on the fourteenth [Nineteenth of August.] 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 [Eighth of August.] 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” [See B. x. c. 45, and c. 50. The popinjay, lapwing, and tit-mouse have been suggested.] disappears upon the day on which Sirius rises, and never reappears until that star has set; while the witwall, [Virio. See B. x. c. 45.] 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.