In the calculations made by Cœsar, the eighth before the calends of May is a day remarked, and on the seventh before the calends, the constellation of the Kids rises in Egypt. On the sixth before the calends, the Dog sets in the evening in Bœotia and Attica, and the Lyre rises in the morning. On the fifth before the calends of May, Orion has wholly set to the people of Assyria, and on the fourth before the calends the Dog. On the sixth before the nones of May, the Suculæ rise in the morning, according to the calculation of Cæsar, and on the eighth before the ides, the She-goat, which announces rain. In Egypt the Dog sets in the evening of the same day. Such are pretty nearly the movements of the constellations up to the sixth before the ides of May, the period of the rising of the Vergiliæ.
In this interval of time, during the first fifteen days, the agriculturist must make haste and do all the work for which he has not been able to find time before the vernal equinox; and he should bear in mind that those who are late in pruning their vines are exposed to jibes and taunts, in imitation of the note of the bird of passage known to us as the cuckoo. For it is looked upon as a disgrace, and one that subjects him to well-merited censure, for that bird, upon its arrival, to find him only then pruning his vines. Hence it is, too, that we find those cutting jokes, of which our peasantry are the object, at the beginning of spring. Still, however, all such jokes are to be looked upon as most abominable, from the ill omens they convey.
In this way, then, we see that, in agricultural operations, the most trifling things are construed as so many hints supplied us by Nature. The latter part of this period is the proper time for sowing panic and millet; the precise moment, however, is just after the barley has ripened. In the case of the very same land, too, there is one sign that points in common both to the ripening of the barley and the sowing of panic and millet — the appearance of the glow-worm, shining in the fields at night. “Cicindelæ” is the name given by the country people to these flying stars, while the Greeks call them “lampyrides,” — another manifestation of the incredible bounteousness of Nature.
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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 “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 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. 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 jugerun. 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; and the rising of the Lyre on the third before the ides of May. The She-goat sets in the evening of the twelfth before the calends of June, and in Attica the Dog. On the eleventh before the calends of June, according to Cæsar, Orion’s Sword begins to appear; and, according to the same writer, on the fourth before the nones of June the Eagle rises in the evening, and in Assyria as well. On the seventh before the ides of June Arcturus sets in the morning to the people of Italy, and on the fourth before the ides the Dolphin rises in the evening. On the seventeenth before the calends of July Orion’s Sword rises in Italy, and, four days later, in Egypt. On the eleventh before the calends of July, according to Cæsar’s reckoning, Orion’s Sword begins to set; and the eighth 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 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 ensurïng 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 haylofts and mangers. The land should not be watered, however, the first year, 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, and the next best is grass; nummulus is the very worst of all, as it bears a pod which is particularly injurious; equisætis, too, which derives its name from its resemblance to horse-hair, is of a noxions 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; “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. 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 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 there are two va- rieties; the Italia
n, which is considerably shorter than the other, and can be handled among underwood even; and the Gallic, which makes quicker work 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 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.
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CHAP. 68.
THE SUMMER SOLSTICE.
We have already stated that the summer solstice arrives at the eighth degree of Cancer, and upon the eighth day before 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 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; 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 sup- posing 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, according to Cæsar’s reckoning, Orion rises, and upon the fourth 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, 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 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 the ides of July, the rising of Orion ends to the Egyptians also; on the sixteenth 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. 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 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 the calends of August. The Eagle sets in the morning of that day to the people of Attica, and on tile third before the calends of August, the Royal Star in the breast of Leo rises in the morning, according to Cæsar. On the eighth before the ides of August, one half of Arcturus has ceased to be visible, and on the third before 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 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, 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, 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, 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, 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 tlat 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, 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 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 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.
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