preserve, and they are uniform. They would on alternate days be larger or smaller if the fire was merely casual, the sudden outcome of some accidental cause. Such a fire would be greater or less according as it was fed more abundantly or more scantily. I said a moment ago that no fire could be lasting which arose from some defect in the atmosphere. I have now to add further, that it can by no means be fixed and steady. 3 Both torch and lightning and shooting star, and any other kind of fire forced out of the air by pressure, are in flight; none of them is visible save in the course of its fall. But a comet has its own settled position. For that reason it is not expelled in haste, but steadily traverses its course; it is not snuffed out, but takes its departure.
If it were a wandering star (_i.e._ planet), says some one, it would be in the zodiac. Who, say I, ever thinks of placing a single bound to the stars? or of cooping up the divine into narrow space? These very 4 stars, which you suppose to be the only ones that move, have, as every one knows, orbits differing one from another. Why, then, should there not be some stars that have a separate distinctive orbit far removed from them? What reason is there why there should not be passages into the heavens at some part of them?[98] But if you are convinced that every star (planet) cannot but touch the zodiac, then I say the comet might have such a wide orbit that at some point it may coincide with the zodiac. This is not necessary, but it is possible.
[98] The meaning seems to be, there may be passages--inlets and outlets--by which occasional visitants like comets may temporarily enter the heavens as we know them, and subsequently pass out of them.
The text is doubtful.
XXIV Consider whether it is not more in keeping with the size of the 1 universe that it be supposed to be divided into many routes, and do not keep this one beaten track while every other portion is a waste. Do you suppose that in this great and fair creation, among the countless stars that adorn the night with varied beauty, never suffering the atmosphere to become empty and sluggish, there are only five stars that are allowed to move freely, while all the rest stand still, a fixed, immovable crowd? Should any one here ask me: Why, then, has their 2 course not been observed like that of the five planets? my answer to him shall be: There are many things whose existence we allow, but whose character we are still in ignorance of. We shall all admit that we have a mind, by whose behest we are urged forward and called back; but what that mind is which directs and rules us, no one can explain any more than he can tell where it resides. One will say that it is breath; another, a kind of harmony; another, a divine force and part of God; another, subtlest air; another, disembodied power. Some will even be found to call it blood, or heat. So far is the mind from being clear on all other subjects that it is still in search of itself.
XXV Why should we be surprised, then, that comets, so rare a sight in the 1 universe, are not embraced under definite laws, or that their beginning and end are not known, seeing that their return is at long intervals?
It is not yet fifteen hundred years since Greece Counted the number of the stars and named them every one.
And there are many nations at the present hour who merely know the 2 face of the sky and do not yet understand why the moon is obscured in an eclipse. It is but recently indeed that science brought home to ourselves certain knowledge on the subject. The day will yet come when the progress of research through long ages will reveal to sight the mysteries of nature that are now concealed. A single lifetime, though it were wholly devoted to the study of the sky, does not suffice for the investigation of problems of such complexity. And then we never make a fair division of the few brief years of life as between study and vice. It must, therefore, require long successive ages to unfold all. The day will yet come when posterity will be amazed that we 3 remained ignorant of things that will to them seem so plain. The five planets are constantly thrusting themselves on our notice; they meet us in all the different quarters of the sky with a positive challenge to our curiosity. Yet it is but lately we have begun to understand their motions, to realise what their morning and evening settings mean, what their turnings when they move straight toward us, why they are driven back from us. We have learned but a few years ago whether Jupiter would rise or set, or whether he would retrograde--the term that has been applied to his retirement from us. People have been found bold enough 4 to say to us: You are mistaken in thinking that any star ever stops or wheels in its course. The heavenly bodies may not stand or turn away.
All advance; once the signal is given they start on their race. Their career will end only with their existence. This eternal creation has motions that suffer no recall. Should they once be arrested, they will encounter obstacles in front which are meantime held in place by the ordered, regular march of the universe.
XXVI What then is the reason, you may ask, for the apparent retrogression 1 of some heavenly bodies? The appearance of slowness in their motion is caused by their encountering the sun, as well as by the character of their paths and the position of their orbits, which are at certain periods calculated to deceive the eye. Ships in the same way moving under full sail seem withal to be stationary. Men will some day be able to demonstrate in what regions comets have their paths, why their course is so far removed from the other stars, what is their size and constitution. Let us be satisfied with what we have discovered, and leave a little truth for our descendants to find out.
We cannot, Apollonius says, see through the stars what is beyond, but sight passes easily through the comets. Well, in the first place, if 2 that is the case, it is not so in the part of the body which consists of dense solid fire, but only where the dispersed glow extends as it breaks up into the appearance of hair. One can see through the gaps in the fire and not through the fire itself. Stars again, it is said, are all round, comets extended; whence it is plain that they are not true stars. But who, pray, will allow that comets are long? Their tendency like that of other stars is to a globe shape, only the light from them is prolonged. The sun shoots out his rays far and wide, but has himself a shape different from that of the light that streams from him. So in comets, the body is rounded, but the glow from them presents the appearance of being longer than that of the other stars.
XXVII Why is this so, you ask. Do you tell me first why the light the 1 moon receives is wholly unlike the sun although she receives it from the sun. Why is it now ruddy, now pale? why is her colour ashen or black when she is cut off from the sun’s view? Or tell me why all the stars have aspects to some extent dissimilar to one another and all as different as possible from the sun. It is no hindrance to their being true stars that they are not all alike; so there is nothing to prevent comets from being permanent through all time, sharing the same destiny as the other stars, even though they have not an appearance like theirs. Besides, is not the universe, if you will only examine it 2 carefully, made up of contrarieties? Why is it that the sun should be always blazing hot in Leo, scorching the ground with his fierce glow, while in Aquarius he brings winter’s chain and closes the rivers with ice? The one constellation is subject to the same law as the other, though its characteristics and influence are so different. Aries again rises in a moment, Libra lifts its scales very slowly; yet the one sign is of the same nature as the other, though that one mounts in a brief space, this comes forth very deliberately. Do you not see, too, how contrary the elements are to one another? They are heavy and 3 light, cold and hot, moist and dry. The whole concord of the universe is a harmony of discords. You say a comet is not a star, because its form does not correspond to the type, but is unlike other stars. You can see, no doubt, how very like that star that returns to its place after thirty years is to this which revisits its haunt within the year! Nature does not turn out her work according to a single pattern; she prides herself upon her power of variation. She has made some 4 things larger, some swifter than others; some stronger, some more limited in power; some she has separated from the crowd, that their splendid isolation might render their progress conspicuous; some she has consigned to a place in the common herd. He has little conception of nature’s power who thinks that she may not do exceptionally what she does not do repeatedly. She does not often display comets; she has assigned them a different place, different periods from the other stars, and motions unlike theirs. She wished to enhance the greatness of her work by these strange visitants whose form is too beautiful to be thought accidental, whether you consider their vastness or their brightness that surpasses in size and brilliance all other stars. Their appearance has, in truth, an exceptional distinction; they are not cribbed and cabined within narrow bonds, but let loose to roam freely, to range over the region of many stars.
XXVIII According to Aristotle, comets give indications of storm and disturb- 1 ances that bring wind and rain. Well, then, are you of opinion it is not a star because it foretells what is coming? True the comet is not a sign of storm in the same way as it is a sign of coming rain when The oil splutters, and rotten fungus covers the wick; or in the same way as it is a forecast of a raging sea--if the sea Coots[99] sport on land; her haunts in the marshes Are deserted by the heron, and she soars above the heights of cloud: [99] Perhaps cormorants: the identity of the bird is difficult to determine.
but in the same way as the equinox is a sign of the turn of the year 2 toward cold or heat, or as the predictions of the Chaldaean soothsayers who tell what sorrow or joy is determined at birth by the natal star, are indications of coming events. To convince you of the truth of this, I must warn you that the rising of a comet does not convey a threat of wind and rain in the immediate future, as Aristotle says, but casts suspicion over the whole year. Hence it is plain that the comet has not derived prognostications from its immediate surroundings to reveal for the immediate future, but that it has them stored up and buried deep within by the laws of the universe. The comet which appeared in the consulship of Paterculus and Vopiscus fulfilled the anticipations of this kind entertained by Aristotle, and for that matter by Theophrastus; for there were everywhere severe and prolonged storms, 3 while in Achaia and Macedonia cities were overturned by earthquakes.
The slowness of the comets’ motion, Aristotle says, is a proof that they are rather heavy, containing much earthy matter. So are their orbits too, for they are usually confined to the neighbourhood of the poles.
XXIX Both statements are false. Let me take them in their order. Well, it 1 is asserted, is it, that all bodies are heavy that move more slowly?
What! is the planet Saturn, which accomplishes its circuit most slowly of all the planets, heavy? It has, in fact, a proof of lightness in being higher than all the rest. But, you say, it takes a wider sweep, and does not go more slowly than the others, but only a longer distance. Let me suggest that I can make the same statement of the comets; even if their course is more sluggish, they have farther to go.
But it is a falsehood to assert that they move more slowly. For this 2 last comet traversed within six months half the span of heaven; the previous one withdrew from sight in a shorter period. But again, it is urged, on account of their weight, they are borne down lower. Well, in the first place, a comet is not borne down, but round. In the second, this recent one began its motion in the north, and passing by way of the west, reached the southern quarters, and was elevating its orbit when it faded from sight. That other one, in Claudius’ reign, also 3 first appeared in the north, and continued without intermission to rise straight up to a higher elevation until it disappeared. Such are the matters relating to comets which have had weight with others and with myself. Whether they are true or not, those who attain knowledge of the truth must decide. We are permitted only to conjecture and grope in the dark, with no assurance of discovery, and yet not without hope.
XXX Aristotle has finely said that we should never be more reverent 1 than when we are treating of the gods. We enter a temple with all due gravity, we lower our eyes, draw up our toga, and assume every token of modesty when we approach the sacrifice. How much more is all this due when we discuss the heavenly bodies, the stars, the nature of the gods, lest in ignorance we make any assertion regarding them that is hasty, or disrespectful; or lest we wittingly lie. Let us not 2 be surprised that what is buried so deeply should be unearthed so slowly. Panaetius and others, who will have it that a comet is not an ordinary star but the mere counterfeit of a star, have bestowed careful treatment on the question whether all seasons of the year are equally fitted to produce comets, and whether all quarters of the sky are equally suitable for their creation. They have inquired, too, whether they can be formed in all regions through which they can pass, and have discussed other points of a like kind. But all these questions are foreclosed by my statement that they are not accidental fires, but inwoven in the texture of the universe, directed by it in secret, but not often revealed. And how many bodies besides revolve in secret, 3 never dawning upon human eyes? Nor is it for man that God has made all things.[100] How small a portion of His mighty work is entrusted to us?
But He who directs them all, who established and laid the foundations of all this world, who has clothed Himself with creation, and is the greater and better part of His work, He is hidden from our eyes, He can be perceived only by thought.
[100] Another reading runs: Nor has God revealed all things to man.
XXXI Many things, moreover, akin to highest deity or holding power near 1 it, are still obscure. Or, perhaps, one may be still more surprised to find that they at once fill and elude our sight. Either their subtlety is too great for human vision to grasp, or such exalted majesty conceals itself in the holier sanctuary, and rules its kingdom, which is itself, without permitting access to any power except the spirit.
What that is, without which nothing is, we cannot know: and when God, the greatest part of the universe, is an unknown God, we are surprised, are we, that there are some specks of fire we do not fully understand?
How many animals we have come to know for the first time in our own 2 days! Many, too, that are unknown to us, the people of a coming day will know. Many discoveries are reserved for the ages still to be, when our memory shall have perished. The world is a poor affair if it do not contain matter for investigation for the whole world in every age. Some of the sacred rites are not revealed to worshippers all at once. Eleusis retains some of its mysteries to show to votaries on their second visit. Nature does not reveal all _her_ secrets at once.
We imagine we are initiated in her mysteries: we are, as yet, but hanging around her outer courts. Those secrets of hers are not opened 3 to all indiscriminately. They are withdrawn and shut up in the inner shrine. Of one of them this age will catch a glimpse, of another, the age that will come after.
When, then, it may be asked, will all these things come to our full knowledge? Great schemes mature slowly, especially if effort is relaxed. There is one object we are bent on, heart and soul,--to be as wicked as possible--and we have not yet attained perfection. Vice is still making progress. Luxury is constantly discovering some new 4 outlet for its madness, indecency some new form of insult on itself.
Dissolute effeminacy and corruption are constantly discovering some more refined and delicate means of self-destruction. We have not yet wholly cast off our vigour. We are still doing our best to extinguish any spark of virtue that is left. By the smoothness and polish of our bodies we men have outdone the refinements of women; we have adopted the colours of harlots, that even an honest woman would not put on.
With delicate mincing step we check our gait; we do not walk, with 5 measured pace we go. We adorn our fingers with rings. A precious stone sparkles on every joint. Day by day we devise means of wronging and degrading our manhood, vexed that we cannot strip it off. One becomes a eunuch, another assumes the scandalous part of a gladiator, and, hired for death, arms for disgrace. The very pauper selects a victim on whom to sate his morbid lust.
XXXII Do you wonder that wisdom has not yet attained her perfect work? Why, 1 vice has not wholly revealed itself. It is still in its infancy, and yet on it we bestow all our efforts; our eyes and our hands are its slaves. Who attends the school of wisdom now? Who thinks it worth while to have more than a bowing acquaintance with her? Who has regard for philosophy or any liberal pursuit, except when a rainy day comes round to interrupt the games, and it may be wasted without loss? And so the many sects of philosophers are all dying out for lack of successors. 2 The Academy, both old and new, has left no disciple. Who is there to hand down the precepts of Pyrrho? That famous school of Pythagoras, despised of the rabble, can find no master. The new sect of the Sextii, which contained the vigour of Rome, started with great enthusiasm, but on the very threshold of its career is also dead.
But what anxious care we bestow that the name of no actor may be 3 lost! The house of Pylades and Bathyllus stands in a long line of successors. For arts of that kind there are plenty of pupils and plenty of teachers. The actor’s platform resounds in every private house in the whole city. On it men and women alike practise the ballet step. Husbands and wives vie in paying court to actors. By and by, when the brow is rubbed smooth by long wearing of the mask, the transition to the brothel is easy and natural. Philosophy gets never 4 a thought. And so it comes to pass that, far from advance being made toward the discovery of what the older generations left insufficiently investigated, many of their discoveries are being lost. But yet, on my soul of honour, if we urged on this task with all our powers, if our youth in sobriety braced themselves to it, if the elder taught it and the younger learned it, even then scarce should we reach the bottom of the well in which truth lies. As it is, we search for her on the surface, and with a slack hand.
By Sir ARCHIBALD GEIKIE, K.C.B., Pres.R.S.
The treatise of which the present volume is a translation possesses a twofold interest. In the first place, it is probably the last literary work of a man who filled a large space in the Roman world of his day. After a varied career as philosopher, barrister, politician, statesman, courtier, and man of letters, he at last incurred the implacable enmity of Nero, to whom he had been tutor. Having in his youth paid some attention to physical inquiries, he had then been led to prepare and publish a book on earthquakes. But in subsequent years the absorbing cares of State probably left him little leisure to continue these studies, for which, however, he had retained his taste.
Hence, when in his last days he sought in retirement to devote himself to philosophical pursuits, he naturally turned to some of the physical problems that had interested him in earlier life. The earthquake which on 5th February A.D. 63 had done much damage to the towns of Campania, revived his youthful enthusiasm for the investigation of such phenomena, and may possibly have suggested to him the preparation of another volume dealing with this and other scientific matter. We know at least from the book itself that he wrote a part, if not the whole, of it after that date (221, 230),[101] and that he took pains to collect information about the catastrophe. As he was in the habit of sojourning on the shores of the Bay of Naples, he probably visited the scene of destruction himself for the purpose of his book. We learn from Tacitus that it was immediately after his return from Campania to his villa near Rome, bringing with him, we may suppose, his nearly completed manuscript, that Seneca received the Emperor’s order to commit suicide.
[101] The numbers within parentheses throughout these Notes refer to the pages of the Translation.
In the second place, Seneca’s work on _Natural Questions_ stands out as one of the few treatises on physical science which have come down to us from antiquity. It is interesting alike for the quotations it contains from the works of previous authors, some of which have not survived, and for the criticisms and opinions which he himself expresses on the various subjects of which he treats. It can hardly, however, be regarded as an original contribution to science. Its author’s life had been spent in other and widely different pursuits, which led him far away from scientific inquiry. But as a summary of the general state of knowledge in his day, made by a man of strong intellect, who had been trained in the legal and philosophical schools of the time, and had read widely and reflected much on these matters, the book may be taken to afford a fair presentation of the manner in which a number of questions in astronomy, meteorology, and physical geography were regarded by thoughtful minds in the first century of our era.
In judging of the intrinsic merit of such a work as the present, the modern reader finds a difficulty in realising from the broad platform of natural knowledge which, after the labours of the intervening centuries, has now been laid, how exceedingly narrow was the circle of ascertained fact available to the student two thousand years ago.
The spirit of scientific observation and experiment had not then been developed, yet the familiar phenomena of everyday life pressed, as they still do, for explanation. Man’s knowledge of nature was then too limited to furnish a basis for distinguishing what was fact from what was mere guesswork. In the infancy of our race, as in the childhood of the individual, the tendency of the human mind is to perceive resemblances rather than differences. Analogies are readily observed and, in default of knowledge of the facts involved, are mistaken for identical sequences of cause and effect. Throughout the interpretations of natural phenomena given by the philosophers of antiquity, it is remarkable to what a large extent the meaning of one appearance is explained by comparing it with another to which in reality it may bear no resemblance. Seneca’s volume abounds in examples of this use of analogy.
The authority of great names exercised a wonderful fascination on the minds of the early investigators of nature. Generation after generation of writers were led to accept with little or no modification the dicta of eminent philosophers who had preceded them. An observer might sometimes recognise the erroneousness of the opinion of a predecessor, and yet lack the means of detecting the falsity of his own, which nevertheless he propounded with full assurance of its truth. In such circumstances criticism had no secure foundation, while credulity, rampant in the world outside, could hardly fail to show itself in philosophic circles. Even the most cautious and truth-seeking inquirer might easily and almost inevitably be led to accept statements which did not seem to him unreasonable, and which no previous experience of his own or others warranted him to disbelieve or even to suspect.
It behoves us, therefore, to be on our guard lest, from our much higher standard of knowledge, we may be tempted to look with amused contempt on the puerile conceptions of nature to be met with in the writings of the ancients--the grave assertion of absurdities as actual facts, the inept analogies, the confident explanations which are no explanations at all, and the complete absence of any attempt to test by examination or experiment the validity of statements which with but little trouble could have been disproved.
These evidences of the exceedingly imperfect knowledge of his time are fully illustrated in Seneca’s chapters. He quotes some two dozen of previous writers who had dealt with the same or cognate subjects.
It is needless to say that they were Greeks, no place having yet been found in Latin literature for treatises on Science. The author most frequently cited by him is Aristotle, whose _Meteorologica_ he had evidently studied with care. He gives frequent quotations from that work, but even where he does not specifically quote, his views generally accord with those of the great philosopher and naturalist.[102] Almost the only quotations from the works of his own countrymen are verses from some of the poets, especially from Virgil and Ovid. It is remarkable that he makes only one quotation from Lucretius, although he would have found in that poet’s noble work many passages more apposite to his subject than those which he has taken from the _Aeneid_, the _Georgics_, and the _Metamorphoses_. We may suppose that these works were favourites with him, and that he knew much of them by heart, but that he was less familiar with the _De Rerum Natura_.
[102] Seneca’s indebtedness to Aristotle is emphatically expressed by Barthélemy Saint-Hilaire in the Dissertation prefixed to his pp. lxix-lxx).
It is manifest from the present volume that its author, like Lucretius before him, had a lofty conception of the dignity and moral influence of the study of nature. This pursuit seemed to him to raise us above the sordid things of life and to withdraw the mind from the body--a dissociation so eminently beneficial to our higher aspirations. He believed that in the study of the hidden phenomena of the universe a mental alacrity is developed which will be found to be not without practical utility in the conduct of affairs that lie nearer the surface (113).
With this clear recognition of the importance of his theme he resolved in his old age to enter upon a task which other less worthy pursuits had hindered him from pursuing. He would now attempt to survey the universe, unravel its secrets, and give the results of his studies to the world (109). It was not, however, his aim to compose a systematic treatise on Natural Philosophy, but rather to take up some special subjects and deal with them in the light of what had already been written upon them, and of what his own reflections suggested. His undertaking assumed the form of a series of epistolary essays addressed to his friend Lucilius Junior, procurator of Sicily. The literary shape thus selected allowed the use of an unconstrained, almost colloquial, style which would not have been suitable to a more ambitious work.
Had Seneca designed to prepare a formal or methodical treatise, he would doubtless have planned it to include the three sections which he regarded as comprising every inquiry that can arise as to the nature and constitution of the Universe (_Universum_)--celestial, atmospheric, and terrestrial (_Caelestia, Sublimia, Terrena_, 51). The world (_Mundus_) in his view comprehends all things that come or can come within our cognisance (54). Instead of entering upon a full discussion of any one of his three sections, he selected from them a few topics which had probably more particularly engaged his attention. Most of these belong to the second or atmospheric division of his scheme of arrangement, to which he devotes six of his seven books, the remaining one being given to the discussion of some celestial phenomena. Certain subjects which we should naturally range in the terrestrial series, such as the source and flow of rivers and the nature and origin of earthquakes, he explicitly includes among his atmospheric phenomena (51).
It appears to be probable that Seneca had neither finished nor revised his manuscript at the time of his death. Parts of the work are obviously incomplete, though some of these gaps may be due to defects of transcription or to the subsequent loss of parts of the text. The obscurities of language, which are not infrequent, may likewise have partly arisen from lack of the author’s revision of his original copy.
His discussion of the problem of the rise of the Nile suddenly breaks off in such an abrupt manner as to suggest the loss of a portion of the original volume. One of the most important omissions is the absence of any account of the phenomena of volcanoes. The author does indeed refer in several places to this subject, but with Aetna before him, of which so many Greek and Latin poets had sung, and which had so often been referred to in the writings of the philosophers, he could hardly have meant to offer no commentary on so notable a feature in the geography and history of his own country. We know indeed that he was keenly interested in this mountain, and that he wrote to Lucilius to ascend the volcano and send him particulars about it. In the letter conveying this request he alludes to some of the Roman poets who had sung of its wonders, and urges that a description of Aetna should form part of a poem on which his correspondent appears to have been then engaged.[103] Another important subject in physical geography finds no place in Seneca’s volume--the Sea. Of the outer ocean it was not to be expected that he could have had much to say, but we can hardly suppose that he would have considered his essay complete without some discussion of the various phenomena presented by the Mediterranean Sea.
[103] Seneca, _Epist._ lxxix.
A century before Seneca’s prime, the immortal _De Rerum Natura_ of Lucretius had appeared at Rome, wherein the origin and constitution of the world were sung with the intense earnestness, brilliant imagination, and resounding cadence of a great poet and with the grasp and penetration of a great philosopher. In this splendid work some of the problems discussed by Seneca were considered, and explanations were given of them with the usual undoubting confidence of olden time. In literary quality the two writers stand far apart, yet it is not uninteresting to compare their respective views of nature. The vivid and often majestic diction of the one is not more diverse from the somewhat familiar and conversational tone of the other than are their respective creeds. Lucretius was a convinced and enthusiastic Epicurean, and in accordance with the teachings of his master denied the existence of any divine co-operation in the plan and government of the Universe, nequaquam nobis divinitus esse paratam naturam rerum,[104] although no writer either of ancient or modern time has had a more overpowering sense of the beauty, majesty, and order of this world. It was his earnest purpose to show men how, by a contemplation of the face and ordered scheme of nature, they could free themselves from the bond of religious superstition and the fear of death.[105] [105] rursus in antiquas referuntur religiones et dominos acres adsciscunt, omnia posse quos miseri credunt, ignari quid queat esse, quid nequeat, finita potestas denique cuique quanam sit ratione atque alte terminus haerens.--_Op. cit._ v. 86.
hunc igitur terrorem animi tenebrasque necessest non radii solis neque lucida tela diei discutiant, sed naturae species ratioque.--i. 146.
Seneca, on the other hand, held the Stoic belief in an all-wise and omnipotent Creator. In an eloquent exordium to his volume, and in a peroration near its end, he affirms his conviction that this Divine Being is all in all, at once within and without his works; He has clothed himself with creation, but is hidden from our eyes and can be perceived only by thought (3, 7, 305). Our philosopher could not conceive of anything more beautiful, more orderly, and more consistent everywhere in plan than the world around us. That such a world should have resulted from the tumult of chaos, by the mere chance collocation of atoms, appeared to him the madness of vulgar error. Yet it was only too true, though it might be thought hardly credible, that even philosophers had been tainted with this pernicious doctrine. Hence it would be in the author’s judgment a profitable task to inquire into the truth concerning these matters. To explore this world, he remarks, is far more than enough for a single lifetime. Whether what we may be led to believe regarding it shall be true must be decided by those who may attain the knowledge of the truth; we can but examine and conjecture, with no certain assurance of discovery, yet not without hope (304).
It behoves us to be ever watchful against forming conclusions rashly, disrespectfully, or ignorantly, and of being knowingly untrue. In this quest after knowledge, while much may be found out which will be of practical usefulness, we are encouraged to advance, not by any hope of gain, but by the wonder with which the inquiry fills the soul. To obtain a knowledge of Nature is the highest reward to which the mind of man can aspire (230, 304). Seneca’s practical conclusion was thus much the same as that of Lucretius. He does not, however, attempt in this volume to enforce it with the solemn earnestness shown by the poet, though he loses no opportunity of inveighing against the follies and vices of his time. In discussing natural phenomena his first desire is to explain them, and in so doing to animadvert on the explanations of previous writers, with perhaps a not unnatural wish to show his own ability as a critic and expositor.
It was in due accordance with the principles of his school, as well as with his own natural temperament, that Seneca should continually be led to draw ethical lessons from the physical phenomena which he discussed.
The interpolation of some of these reflections may occasionally seem to a modern reader rather irrelevant and far-fetched, but there can be no question as to the spirit of reverence with which he approached his subject. Like other philosophers who had preceded him, he maintained this spirit, while at the same time he had discarded the crowded and confused polytheism of the prevalent mythology. But he here keeps