thirty-seven Books; it treats of an enormous variety of subjects, physical, geological, geographical, ethnographical, botanical, medical, etc., many of which are now quite dissociated from the title, _Natural History_. Pliny seems to have read everything that existed in writing on the various subjects included, and his array of authorities attached to the contents of each Book is very imposing.[23] But unfortunately his judgment does not appear to have been equal to his industry.
Everything is recorded, credible and incredible, whether derived from trustworthy literature or based on mere report: a more uncritical congeries of truth and error it would be difficult to imagine.
[23] He claims to have read about 2000 volumes of 100 choice authors, but his lists seem to include a much larger number of names--146 Roman and 327 foreign writers. See Teuffel, _Rom. Lit._ vol. ii., under Pliny the Elder. Cf. Dill, _op. cit._ p. 146 and _note_.
Book II. deals with the constitution of the universe, including astronomical and meteorological phenomena, such as Meteors, Halos, Eclipses, Winds, Earthquakes, Rain, etc., etc. Many of these cover the same ground as the _Q.N._ Among the domestic authors cited for this Book are M. Varro, Livy, Cornelius Nepos, Caecina, “who wrote on the Etruscan cult”; among the foreign authors are Plato, Anaximander, Democritus, Archimedes, Aristotle, etc., etc. The omission of Seneca from the Latin list is balanced by that of Theophrastus from the Greek list. It is, of course, unsafe to build any theory on a merely negative basis. Obviously Pliny had read at any rate portions of these authors, to whom he elsewhere refers, and may, through mere oversight or negligence, have omitted specific mention of them here: he usually refers to authors and not to their individual works. If, at the time of the composition of Book II., which may have been considerably earlier than the date of publication of the whole work, he did not know of Seneca’s _Q.N._, then the inference seems inevitable that there were current a collection or collections of the opinions (δόξαι) of the older philosophers which were common property to any one interested in such matters. The _Placita_ attributed to Plutarch, though its present form may be much later than Pliny’s time, may have been derived from sources of this kind. We shall not be far wrong in supposing that, in addition to the works still extant, there was a mass of material available to Seneca and Pliny alike which represented the traditional views on physical and allied subjects handed down from the old Greek philosophy. Most of the Latin authors, seventeen in number in all, cited by Pliny on Book II. are now known to us only by name; of those whose works remain, Varro is the only one whom we should consider likely to furnish much material for the topic in hand.
Of Pliny’s lists in general it may be said that they indicate that a good many writers even among the Romans had been attracted by subjects of a scientific or quasi-scientific character, if we may not venture to say that their works can rank as science even in the modified sense in which the term is applicable to Seneca or Pliny. It is in keeping with the character of the people that practical sciences like agriculture (Varro, Columella) and architecture (Vitruvius), not to mention cookery, should have received special attention. These authors, with others like Manilius (_Astronomica_) and Pomponius Mela (geography), however interesting in themselves, have only an indirect and sometimes only a remote bearing on the Physical Science of their day.
VI. THE “QUAESTIONES NATURALES” IN THE MIDDLE AGES The _Q.N._ is a landmark in the progress of Physical Science. From Aristotle and Theophrastus there is a great gap until we reach Seneca: the gap is still greater between Seneca and the Renascence, from which the era of true science is to be dated. The _Q.N._ is the last word spoken on the subject by the classical world, and practically the only work of its kind that survives to us in Latin. Various commentators on Aristotle and Seneca have, probably unconsciously, appeared as champions of either author’s claim to be considered as _the_ authority in Science during the Middle Ages. All the materials for forming an unbiassed judgment are to be found in Dr. Sandys’ _History of Classical Seneca possessed one or two initial advantages. In the first place, Latin, in which he wrote, was understood and spoken throughout the world, whereas for many centuries Greek was over large tracts of it, particularly in the West, an unknown tongue. Again, Seneca was for long supposed to be a Christian, claimed by the early fathers as “one of us,” and ranked by Jerome among the _Ecclesiastical Writers_. There was not therefore the same prejudice against his works as is known to have existed in the early Christian centuries against pagan authors, especially against the poets.
As a matter of fact, the knowledge of Aristotle’s works, at any rate in the West, seems to have been derived in the first instance from Arabic translations made in the ninth century and brought to Spain about the twelfth century, while from 1204 onwards he was known in Latin translations made direct from the Greek MSS., which were now accessible. “In Roger Bacon’s day, not-withstanding his eagerness for promoting the study of Aristotle in the original Greek, it was the _Latin_ Aristotle alone that was studied in the schools” (Sandys, _op. cit._ 575). That was about the year 1267. Seneca seems to have been well known, chiefly as a moralist, through the Middle Ages. He “was famous as the author of the _Naturales Quaestiones_” (_ib._ 627[24]) also. Saint-Hilaire’s claim, therefore (Arist. _Meteor._ Pref. ii. iii.), “that Aristotle laid down the law on Meteorology, as in everything else, from the age of Alexander right up to the Renascence,” must be accepted with some qualification. There seems room for Ruhkopf’s explanation (_Q.N._ Pref.) that Seneca’s work was, and continued to be, the sole fountain whence Natural Philosophy derived its source and drew its supplies during many centuries, “until Aristotle’s books were transmitted for public use into Western Europe.”
By the thirteenth century Aristotle had come fully into vogue, and the references to his teaching in Dante (1265–1321), said to number upwards of 300, show what a hold he had obtained upon the greatest man of the age. The “moral Seneca” is also known to Dante, and placed by him in the same region of the unseen world (_H._ iv.), but the references to his teaching are insignificant by comparison (less than ten). Dr.
Sandys states (_op. cit._ 591 _n._) that the references to Aristotle are mainly to the _Ethics_, _Physics_, _Metaphysics_, and _De Anima_.
But we are now on the eve of the Renascence, whose “morning-star ...arose in the person of Petrarch” (_op. cit._ 650), early in the fourteenth century (1304–1374). Greek scholarship was reviving in the West, and Petrarch studied the language in his later days. But his inspiration was derived in the first instance from Latin, “the philosophical works of Cicero and the moral letters of Seneca” (_op.
cit._ ii. 4). The latter he cites as many as sixty times (_ib._ 7), and he was also familiar with the Senecan tragedies (_ib._ 6).
From this and from the general course of history we seem justified in believing that during the Middle Ages, in default of any general knowledge of Aristotle, Seneca was the chief authority on Physical Science. The views transmitted by him, for they were comparatively seldom altogether his own, having obtained currency, found their way into literature, and probably went far to colour the conceptions entertained on the subject in all the earlier literature of Modern Europe. Later, when Aristotle’s works became more widely known, his authority became supreme alike in philosophy and in science. Nor does the temporary ascendancy of Seneca, though historically very important, carry with it any presumption of rivalry, not to say superiority, to Aristotle. Seneca may best be regarded as pupil and interpreter of Aristotle, in so far as the two come into competition. His date, the language employed as his medium, his position, his reputation as a Christian, and his activity in other fields, all conspired to give him a position in the Middle Ages which is not necessarily the measure of his intrinsic merit as compared with Aristotle.
VII. THE PRESENT TRANSLATION From what has preceded, it will appear that the path of the translator of the _Quaestiones Naturales_ is beset with snares. At best he has a choice of difficulties, It may perhaps, therefore, be well to say a word or two upon the method in which these have been dealt with on the present occasion.
A translator’s prime duty is to follow his author, for which purpose he must first understand him, a requirement not very easily here fulfilled. The texts of the _Q.N._ vary greatly, as already indicated, and it is no easy matter to select any one that might be consistently followed. The most recent and best text, the Teubner, edited by Gercke, has strong claims, and had it been my good fortune to have it by me when the translation was made, I should have been tempted to adopt it _simpliciter_, even though in many details it departs somewhat violently from the accepted arrangement. As it was, it did not come to hand until the translation was finished and paged for publication, so that full use could not be made of it. In a few cases its corrections had been anticipated; in some its readings have been adopted; some that could not be incorporated are referred to in a note on the subject.
The text being settled, the translator must, if possible, put himself in the author’s position and obtain his point of view.
In science, particularly, the _milieu_ of the author must be caught if his thoughts are to be accurately reproduced. The danger of attributing to Seneca ideas that were unknown to him and that are due to modern analysis and discovery has to be constantly present to one’s “explosion,” etc., are a few of the terms that his language suggests, but that would probably convey a wrong impression of his conception of the phenomena to which they relate. They have been thus ruled out.
Nor is Seneca consistent in the use of the terms he employs; he has no scientific vocabulary. In a separate note attention is called to his words for “air” and “atmosphere”; but there are many other terms that belong to the same category. These are, for instance, three he seems to use almost indifferently, at any rate without any precise discrimination. So with terms like “_impetus_” (impulse, onset) “_impulsus_” (shove, impulse), “_ictus_” (stroke, blow), “_vis_” (force, quantity, amount), “_curro_” (to run (river), to revolve (heavenly body)), and its compounds, _eo_ (to go), and its compounds, etc., etc.
Apart from any peculiarity of Seneca, Latin allows the use of adjectives and pronouns, whose distinctive gender points their reference, where English requires substantives or their equivalent.
Latin, too, often conveys by mere suggestion where English requires explicit expression. This is particularly so with connectives, where a separate clause may be required to develop the _nuance_ of a subtle collocation. In general, assuming--and it is no great stretch--that the author meant to express _something_, whether right or wrong, I have endeavoured to ascertain what that something was and to convey it to the English reader. In doing so I have had no scruple in using more words than Latin, or in making explicit what I conceived to be implicit, or in varying the rendering of the same term to suit the context and idiom. Ambiguity has, as far as possible, been avoided and even removed. At the same time the author has been followed as closely and faithfully as may be. Where he repeats a term purposely, as he frequently does, the repetition is retained, though a variant might have sounded more euphonious. Probably, in some cases--it may be in a good many--the meaning has been misconceived; certainly, there will be difference of opinion in regard to readings adopted for translation, where one had to be taken and two or more almost equally good had to be left out. Ruhkopf was the text chiefly used; in addition Koeler and the Variorum Edition of Bouillet were constantly at hand, and I have been much indebted to all three in questions of interpretation.
Nisard’s French Translation has also been of some service, indirectly by suggestion perhaps rather than directly; in a few passages the translation is from a different text from that printed on the same page. The old Tauchnitz text has been habitually consulted, while Gercke’s text has been carefully collated throughout. The latter does not mention Ruhkopf at all in his Bibliography--surely an involuntary omission. There is a useful Bibliography also in Bouillet, but the date of his Edition is as far back as 1830. To my regret I have not been able to procure Lagrange’s famous French Translation, and the same remark applies to several German works of repute. Lodge’s Translation (1614) was not of any service for my purpose.
THE NATURAL QUESTIONS OF L. ANNAEUS SENECA ADDRESSED TO LUCILIUS BOOK I [METEORS, HALO, RAINBOW, MOCK SUN, ETC.]
PREFACE Lucilius, my much esteemed friend--While a great gulf separates 1 philosophy from the other learned arts, there is to my mind an equally wide gulf in philosophy itself between the portion which relates to human conduct and that which deals with the nature and power of heaven.
The latter is more exalted and more speculative, it allows itself wide liberty. It is not satisfied with mere observation, it surmises that there is a greater and fairer realm placed by nature beyond human sight. Between these two divisions of philosophy, in short, there is as wide a gulf as between their subjects, God and man.
The one teaches us what should be done on earth;[25] the other, what 2 is done in heaven. The one dispels our errors and flashes a light by which to thread the mazes of life; the other far transcends this gloom in which we grope, rescues us from the darkness, and leads us to the very source of light itself. For myself, I am grateful to nature, not so much when I see her on the side that is open to the world, as when I am permitted to enter her shrine. Then one may seek to know of what stuff the universe is made, who is its author or guardian, what is the nature of God. Is He wholly absorbed in Himself, or does He sometimes regard us? does He do something daily, or has He done once for all? is He a portion of the world, or the whole world? may He issue new decrees even to-day and thus modify the laws of fate, or is it an infringement of His majesty and an acknowledgment of error to alter what has once been made? for surely the same must always please Him who can be 3 pleased only with what is best. Nor yet withal is His freedom or power diminished, for He is a law unto Himself.
[25] In other words, the principles of human conduct.
Life would have been a useless gift, were I not admitted to the study of such themes. What cause for joy would it be to be set merely in the number of those who live? In order to digest food and drink?
To repair a diseased, enfeebled body, that would perish unless it were continually refilled, and thus lead the life of a sick man’s attendant? To fear death, to which our very birth destines us? Away with the priceless boon! Life is not worth the heat and the sweat. How 4 despicable a creature is man, unless he rise above the earth! What great thing can we do as long as we have to wrestle with our passions?
Even if we prevail, we but conquer monsters. What cause have we to esteem ourselves because we are not quite so bad as the very worst? I can see no great reason for self-satisfaction because one’s strength is rather above the average of those in the same hospital. You are still far from good health and vigour. Or, again, you have escaped vices of soul, the hypocrite’s brow, the flatterer’s speech fashioned to serve another’s will, the dissembler’s heart, the miser’s spirit, which robs all, but yet mortifies itself. You are a prey neither to luxury, which loses basely and repairs its losses still more basely; nor to ambition, which leads to place of worth only by unworthy means. But 5 yet you have accomplished nothing. You have escaped many perils, but not yet [that of] self! The virtue we aim at raises to a splendid eminence; not so much because escape from vice is in itself a blessed thing, but rather because the soul is emancipated, prepared for the knowledge of heavenly things, and rendered worthy of entering into communion with God.
The full consummation of human felicity is attained when, all vice trampled under foot, the soul seeks the heights and reaches the inner recesses of nature. What joy then to roam through the very stars, to look down with derision on the gilded saloons of the rich and the whole earth with its store of gold! Gold, did I say? Yes, all the gold the earth ever produced and sent into currency, and all that she keeps hidden in secret to glut the avarice of posterity. Only when one has surveyed the whole universe can one truly despise grand colonnades, 6 ceilings glittering with ivory, trim groves and cooling streams transported into wealthy mansions. From above, one can now look down upon this narrow world, covered for the most part by sea, and, even where it rises above the sea, an ugly waste either parched or frozen.
The philosopher says to himself: Is this the plot that so many tribes portion out by fire and sword? How ludicrous are their frontiers! The Dacian must not pass the lower Danube; the Strymon must shut off the 7 Thracians; the Euphrates must be the barrier of the Parthians; the Danube must form the boundary between Sarmatian and Roman; the Rhine must set a limit to Germany; the Pyrenees must raise their chain between Gallic and Spanish provinces; between Egypt and Ethiopia a desert of barren sands must stretch! Why, if ants are ever endowed with human intelligence, will not they in like manner portion out a threshing-floor into many provinces?
But when you rise to what is truly great, then, as often as you 8 see armies marching forth with floating banners, and the cavalry now scouting in front, now massed on the flanks, as if some great design were toward, you will pleasantly remark: The black swarm is hurrying through the plains.
That host is a throng of ants, its evolutions are in a back garden.
In what do we excel the ants, save in the measure of the puny little body? That is a mere point in which you sail, and war, and dispose your kingdoms. Your kingdoms are lilliputian even when they stretch from Ocean to Ocean. Only on high are the domains spacious; to their 9 possession the mind is admitted, provided always that it bring with it no taint of the body, but wipe off all stain and pass forth like an armed man, lightly equipped, nimble, modest in his wants. When the soul reaches those regions, it receives nourishment and growth; as if freed from the shackles of earth, it returns to the true source of its being.
A proof of its divine origin is furnished by the pleasure it derives 10 from what is divine; here it feels itself at home, not in a strange land. Without alarm it views the setting of the stars and their rising, and the mazy orbits of the heavenly bodies that yet move all in unison.
It notes when each star first shows its light on earth, when it attains its meridian height, observes its orbit and the limits of its descent.
An interested spectator, it examines and investigates every detail.
And why should it not? It feels that they are akin to itself. Then contempt for the narrow limits of its former dwelling succeeds. For 11 what after all is the space that lies from India to the farthest shores of Spain? A few days’ journey if a prosperous wind waft the vessel. But that heavenly region affords a route during full thirty years to the swiftest of the planets, rushing with untiring velocity, never once hal ting.
Here at last the soul comes to learn what it has long sought, it begins to know God. But what is God? The universal intelligence. What is 12 God, did I say? All that you see and all that you cannot see. His greatness exceeds the bounds of thought. Render Him His true greatness and He is all in all, He is at once within and without His works. What, then, is the difference between the divine nature and the human? In us the better part is spirit, in Him there is nothing except spirit. He 13 is wholly reason: though mortal eyes are so sealed by error that men believe this frame of things to be but a fortuitous concourse of atoms, the sport of chance. And yet than this universe could aught be fairer, more carefully adjusted, more consistent in plan? But men will have it that it is tossed about at random in the confusion of thunder, cloud, and storm, and the other forces by which the earth and its purlieus are haunted.
Nor is this merely the madness of vulgar error; even the philosophers are tainted by it. Men there are who think that they themselves have 14 a mind, one, too, that foresees and orders events in detail whether relating to themselves or to others. But this frame of things, in which we men along with the rest of creation are set, they deem void of counsel, hurried hither and thither at random; or at best, nature, they suppose, does not know what her own aim is. How profitable then, think you, will it be to ascertain the truth on such questions and exactly to define each position! For example, what is the extent of the power of God? Does He create matter or does He employ matter already given?
Does the pre-existing archetype give shape to matter, or does the matter determine the shape? Can God perform anything He wishes, or does material fail Him in many cases, just as a great artist often produces inferior work, not through any defect in his art, but because the 15 material on which it is exercised is refractory? To search into such things, to learn them, to meditate upon them--why, is it not in effect to transcend the limits of mortality and to be enrolled a citizen of a higher state? What good will it do you, you ask. Well, if nothing else, I shall, at any rate, know that measured by divine standard all earthly things are mean. But of this more anon.
I To come now to my purpose--listen to the explanation offered by 1 Natural Philosophy concerning _the Fires_ which the atmosphere drives athwart. Their oblique course and amazing velocity furnish proof that they are thrust out with great violence. Evidently they do not come forth of themselves, they are shot out. There are many different forms of them. A certain kind of them Aristotle calls a She-Goat. If you ask me why, I must retort by asking you first to explain why they are also called Kids. It will, perhaps, be more to the purpose not to 2 cross-examine one another with questions such as: What does such and such an author say? Answer me. Better examine the cause of the phenomenon itself than form surmises as to why Aristotle has applied the name She-Goat to a ball of fire. This was the shape of the one as big as the moon that appeared when Paulus was engaged in the war against Perseus. In our own days we have more than once seen a huge ball-shaped flame which broke up in the very middle of its course. We 3 saw a similar portent about the time of the death of the late Emperor Augustus. We again saw one when Sejanus was executed. A warning of the same kind preceded the death of Germanicus.
You may, perhaps, exclaim: Are you then so benighted as to suppose that the gods send out previous intimation of the death of great men? Do you imagine that anything on earth is so great that the Universe should perceive its loss? That question must be reserved for another season.
We shall then see whether a fixed succession is observed in all events, and whether one event is so bound up with another that what precedes is either cause or at least token of what follows. We shall then see, 4 too, whether the gods trouble themselves about human concerns, and whether the mere series of events reveals by unmistakable signs what its effects must be. Meantime, I venture the opinion that fires of the class referred to are produced by violent friction of the atmosphere.
The pressure inclines toward one or other side, and as there is no yielding there, an internal struggle ensues. From violent action of this kind arise the different varieties of fires--beams, balls, torches, and gleams. When the shock is less severe, and the atmosphere is merely grazed, as it were, smaller lights are emitted, And the flying stars drag their hairy tail.
Then their thin fires mark a slender path, which they prolong across 5 the sky. For that reason no night is without sights of the kind; no great movement of the atmosphere is required to produce them. In fact, to put it shortly, they are due to the very same cause as thunderbolts, only they require less force.
Clouds that encounter each other with little force cause flashes of lightning; if impelled by greater violence, thunderbolts. Aristotle offers the following explanation: The earth gives forth many 6 different exhalations, some moist, some dry, some cold, some containing the seeds of fire. And little wonder if the earth’s evaporation is of all varied kinds. Why, even in the heavens the colour of objects does not show uniform; the red of the Dog-star is brighter, that of Mars duller; Jupiter has no red, his sheen is prolonged into pure light. 7 Well, in the great abundance of minute bodies emitted by the earth and driven up to the higher regions, of necessity some of the elements that reach the clouds furnish material for fires. They do not require any collision in order to burn, the breath of the sun’s rays is sufficient to kindle them. So with us, shavings sprinkled with sulphur catch fire at some distance. Probably, therefore, tinder of this kind gathering 8 within the clouds is easily kindled; greater or less fires are produced just as there has been more or less substance in the elements.
On the other hand, to suppose either that actual stars fall or leap across the sky, or that some portion of them is taken away or pared off, is sheer folly. If this had been so, they would ere this have 9 disappeared. For there is not a single night on which there is not a very large number of stars that seem to break up as they pass across the sky. Yet they are all found again in their wonted places: each one maintains its size unimpaired. It follows, therefore, that the fires referred to have their origin below the stars, and that, being without solid foundation on fixed abode, they quickly perish. Why, then, you ask, do they not cross the sky by day as well as by night? The next 10 thing you will say will be that there are no stars by day because they are not visible! The stars are, of course, there, but obscured by the sun’s brightness. Similarly, meteor fires like torches cross the sky by day too, but they are hidden by the brightness of the daylight. If, as sometimes happens, a burst of light shoots out strong enough to assert its brilliance even in the face of day, then they do become visible.
In fact, our own age has more than once seen torches by day, some 11 rushing from east to west, others from west to east.
Sailors consider it a sign of storm when there are many shooting stars. If their appearance really is a sign of wind, they must occur in the quarter where wind is found, in other words, in the atmosphere which lies between the earth and the moon. In violent storms at sea there sometimes appear, as it were, stars settling on the sails. The sailors who are in jeopardy then suppose that they are being aided by the power of Castor and Pollux. They have really ground for better 12 hope in this appearance, because it makes plain that the storm is breaking, and the wind falling. Otherwise the fires would flit about without settling. When Gylippus was on the voyage to Syracuse, a star appeared, resting on the very tip of his lance. In the camp of the Romans at times pikes appeared to be on fire, no doubt because fires of this kind glided down on to them: these fires are often wont to strike animals and trees, just like thunderbolts. If, however, they 13 are discharged with less force, they merely glide down and settle, and do not inflict stroke or wound. Again, some are forced out from among clouds, others come from a clear sky, if the atmosphere has got into a condition to emit fire. In like manner, it occasionally thunders with a clear sky, and from the same cause as with a cloudy one, the atmosphere undergoing internal collision. Even when the air is comparatively clear and dry, it may become condensed, and form bodies similar to clouds, the clashing of which causes the sound of the thunder. From time to 14 time, therefore, arise meteors like beams and like shields, and the semblance of vast fires over the sky, if a force similar in kind but greater in degree encounter suitable material.
II Let us now see how the brightness is produced that sometimes envelops 1 the heavenly bodies. History has put on record that, on the day of the late Emperor Augustus’ entrance into Rome on his return from Apollonia, a parti-coloured circle, such as is wont to be seen in a rainbow, appeared round the sun. The Greeks call this a _Halo_; our most appropriate name for it is a Crown. Let me explain how it is formed.
When a stone is thrown into a pond, the water is observed to part 2 in numerous circles, which, very narrow at first, gradually widen out more and more until the impulse disappears, lost in the surface of the smooth water beyond. Let us suppose something of the same kind to occur in the atmosphere. When condensed it is capable of receiving an impact: the light of sun, moon, or any heavenly body encountering it forces it to recede in the form of circles. Moisture, be it observed, and air, and everything else that takes shape from a blow, is driven into the same form as that possessed by the object that strikes it. Now every kind of light is round. Therefore, the air when struck by light will 3 assume this form. Accordingly the Greeks gave the name Threshing-floor (_i.e._ Halo) to a brightness of this kind, because spaces set apart for threshing corn were, as a rule, round.
Be the better name threshing-floors, or be it crowns, there is no reason to suppose that they are formed in the neighbourhood of the heavenly bodies. They are a very long distance from them, though as seen from the earth they seem to touch and encircle them. In reality such an image is formed not very far from the earth, but the wonted 4 frailty of human vision is deceptive, and we imagine the ring is formed close round the heavenly body itself. But no such thing could possibly occur in the neighbourhood of the sun and stars, as there is nothing but thin ether there. It is only when bodies have become rough and dense that shape can be impressed upon them. In subtle bodies there is no point on which form can lay hold or to which it can adhere. A phenomenon of the same nature as the halo may often be witnessed in baths, because the atmosphere is thick and dark: it is most frequent when the wind is in the south, when the air is heaviest and most dense.
Halos sometimes are dissolved gradually and fade away, sometimes they 5 are broken up on one side. In the latter case seafaring men look for wind in the direction in which the circle of the crown has been broken.
If the parting is on the north, there will be a north wind, if on the west, zephyrs will follow. This is a proof that these crowns are formed in the region of the sky in which the winds are usually formed. The upper regions of air have no crowns because they have no winds either.
An additional proof of the connection of winds and halos is afforded 6 by the fact that the halo is never formed unless the atmosphere is at rest, and the wind, as it were, inactive. Under other circumstances it is not usually observed.
The atmosphere when it is at rest may be fashioned to any pattern by being driven or drawn in any direction. But when it is in motion, light cannot even strike it. It takes no shape and offers no resistance, because the part first affected is always dissipated by the motion.
Therefore it is that no heavenly body can ever be surrounded by a 7 figure of the kind referred to unless when the atmosphere is dense and motionless, and so preserves the ray of round light that strikes upon it. Nor is it without good reason. Recollect the analogy mentioned a little ago. A pebble thrown into a pond or lake or any other circumscribed piece of water produces innumerable circles; but it has not the same effect if thrown into a river. And why so? Because in the latter case the water as it hurries on prevents the formation of any definite figure. So in the atmosphere the same thing happens; when 8 it is stationary, it may receive a pattern; when it rushes in rapid motion, it evades all control, warding off every blow and every form as it approaches. When these crowns, of which I have spoken, have disappeared uniformly on all sides, and vanished in their own tracks, it is an indication of equilibrium in the atmosphere: there is perfect quietness and you may then look out for rain. When they break up 9 at one side, it means wind in that quarter. If they burst at several points, a storm is brewing. The reason of this may be gathered from the explanations I have now given. If the ring fade all round, it is evident that the atmosphere is equable, and therefore calm. But if it is broken through on one side, evidently there must be an inclination of the air in that direction: hence that quarter will produce wind. But when the halo is rent and torn on all sides, plainly an attack is being made on it from several quarters at once, and a disquieted atmosphere is assailing it on this side and on that. So this disturbance of the heavens, the repeated effort and striving in all directions, 10 betokens evidently that a storm is coming up with sudden shiftings of the wind.
These crowns may be observed generally by night round the moon and other stars, but very seldom by day; in fact, so rarely in the latter case, that certain of the Greeks have denied that they appear at all by day. But history proves that they do. The cause of the infrequency