Cicero's Tusculan Disputations
And the fierce Eagle[204] hovers o'er his head.
Next comes the Dolphin;[205]
Then bright Orion,[206] who obliquely moves;
he is followed by
The fervent Dog,[207] bright with refulgent stars:
next the Hare follows[208]
Unwearied in his course. At the Dog's tail
Argo[209] moves on, and moving seems to sail;
O'er her the Ram and Fishes have their place;[210]
The illustrious vessel touches, in her pace,
The river's banks;[211]
which you may see winding and extending itself to a great length.
The Fetters[212] at the Fishes' tails are hung.
By Nepa's[213] head behold the Altar stand,[214]
Which by the breath of southern winds is fann'd;
near which the Centaur[215]
Hastens his mingled parts to join beneath
The Serpent,[216] there extending his right hand,
To where you see the monstrous Scorpion stand,
Which he at the bright Altar fiercely slays.
Here on her lower parts see Hydra[217] raise
Herself;
whose bulk is very far extended.
Amid the winding of her body's placed
The shining Goblet;[218] and the glossy Crow[219]
Plunges his beak into her parts below.
Antecanis beneath the Twins is seen,
Call'd Procyon by the Greeks.[220]
Can any one in his senses imagine that this disposition of the stars,
and this heaven so beautifully adorned, could ever have been formed by
a fortuitous concourse of atoms? Or what other nature, being destitute
of intellect and reason, could possibly have produced these effects,
which not only required reason to bring them about, but the very
character of which could not be understood and appreciated without the
most strenuous exertions of well-directed reason?
XLV. But our admiration is not limited to the objects here described.
What is most wonderful is that the world is so durable, and so
perfectly made for lasting that it is not to be impaired by time; for
all its parts tend equally to the centre, and are bound together by a
sort of chain, which surrounds the elements. This chain is nature,
which being diffused through the universe, and performing all things
with judgment and reason, attracts the extremities to the centre.
If, then, the world is round, and if on that account all its parts,
being of equal dimensions and relative proportions, mutually support
and are supported by one another, it must follow that as all the parts
incline to the centre (for that is the lowest place of a globe) there
is nothing whatever which can put a stop to that propensity in the case
of such great weights. For the same reason, though the sea is higher
than the earth, yet because it has the like tendency, it is collected
everywhere, equally concentres, and never overflows, and is never
wasted.
The air, which is contiguous, ascends by its lightness, but diffuses
itself through the whole; therefore it is by nature joined and united
to the sea, and at the same time borne by the same power towards the
heaven, by the thinness and heat of which it is so tempered as to be
made proper to supply life and wholesome air for the support of
animated beings. This is encompassed by the highest region of the
heavens, which is called the sky, which is joined to the extremity of
the air, but retains its own heat pure and unmixed.
XLVI. The stars have their revolutions in the sky, and are continued by
the tendency of all parts towards the centre. Their duration is
perpetuated by their form and figure, for they are round; which form,
as I think has been before observed, is the least liable to injury; and
as they are composed of fire, they are fed by the vapors which are
exhaled by the sun from the earth, the sea, and other waters; but when
these vapors have nourished and refreshed the stars, and the whole sky,
they are sent back to be exhaled again; so that very little is lost or
consumed by the fire of the stars and the flame of the sky. Hence we
Stoics conclude--which Panaetius[221] is said to have doubted of--that
the whole world at last would be consumed by a general conflagration,
when, all moisture being exhausted, neither the earth could have any
nourishment, nor the air return again, since water, of which it is
formed, would then be all consumed; so that only fire would subsist;
and from this fire, which is an animating power and a Deity, a new
world would arise and be re-established in the same beauty.
I should be sorry to appear to you to dwell too long upon this subject
of the stars, and more especially upon that of the planets, whose
motions, though different, make a very just agreement. Saturn, the
highest, chills; Mars, placed in the middle, burns; while Jupiter,
interposing, moderates their excess, both of light and heat. The two
planets beneath Mars[222] obey the sun. The sun himself fills the whole
universe with his own genial light; and the moon, illuminated by him,
influences conception, birth, and maturity. And who is there who is not
moved by this union of things, and by this concurrence of nature
agreeing together, as it were, for the safety of the world? And yet I
feel sure that none of these reflections have ever been made by these
men.
XLVII. Let us proceed from celestial to terrestrial things. What is
there in them which does not prove the principle of an intelligent
nature? First, as to vegetables; they have roots to sustain their
stems, and to draw from the earth a nourishing moisture to support the
vital principle which those roots contain. They are clothed with a rind
or bark, to secure them more thoroughly from heat and cold. The vines
we see take hold on props with their tendrils, as if with hands, and
raise themselves as if they were animated; it is even said that they
shun cabbages and coleworts, as noxious and pestilential to them, and,
if planted by them, will not touch any part.
But what a vast variety is there of animals! and how wonderfully is
every kind adapted to preserve itself! Some are covered with hides,
some clothed with fleeces, and some guarded with bristles; some are
sheltered with feathers, some with scales; some are armed with horns,
and some are furnished with wings to escape from danger. Nature hath
also liberally and plentifully provided for all animals their proper
food. I could expatiate on the judicious and curious formation and
disposition of their bodies for the reception and digestion of it, for
all their interior parts are so framed and disposed that there is
nothing superfluous, nothing that is not necessary for the preservation
of life. Besides, nature has also given these beasts appetite and
sense; in order that by the one they may be excited to procure
sufficient sustenance, and by the other they may distinguish what is
noxious from what is salutary. Some animals seek their food walking,
some creeping, some flying, and some swimming; some take it with their
mouth and teeth; some seize it with their claws, and some with their
beaks; some suck, some graze, some bolt it whole, and some chew it.
Some are so low that they can with ease take such food as is to be
found on the ground; but the taller, as geese, swans, cranes, and
camels, are assisted by a length of neck. To the elephant is given a
hand,[223] without which, from his unwieldiness of body, he would
scarce have any means of attaining food.
XLVIII. But to those beasts which live by preying on others, nature has
given either strength or swiftness. On some animals she has even
bestowed artifice and cunning; as on spiders, some of which weave a
sort of net to entrap and destroy whatever falls into it, others sit on
the watch unobserved to fall on their prey and devour it. The naker--by
the Greeks called _Pinna_--has a kind of confederacy with the prawn for
procuring food. It has two large shells open, into which when the
little fishes swim, the naker, having notice given by the bite of the
prawn, closes them immediately. Thus, these little animals, though of
different kinds, seek their food in common; in which it is matter of
wonder whether they associate by any agreement, or are naturally joined
together from their beginning.
There is some cause to admire also the provision of nature in the case
of those aquatic animals which are generated on land, such as
crocodiles, river-tortoises, and a certain kind of serpents, which seek
the water as soon as they are able to drag themselves along. We
frequently put duck-eggs under hens, by which, as by their true
mothers, the ducklings are at first hatched and nourished; but when
they see the water, they forsake them and run to it, as to their
natural abode: so strong is the impression of nature in animals for
their own preservation.
XLIX. I have read that there is a bird called Platalea (the shoveller),
that lives by watching those fowls which dive into the sea for their
prey, and when they return with it, he squeezes their heads with his
beak till they drop it, and then seizes on it himself. It is said
likewise that he is in the habit of filling his stomach with
shell-fish, and when they are digested by the heat which exists in the
stomach, they cast them up, and then pick out what is proper
nourishment. The sea-frogs, they say, are wont to cover themselves with
sand, and moving near the water, the fishes strike at them, as at a
bait, and are themselves taken and devoured by the frogs. Between the
kite and the crow there is a kind of natural war, and wherever the one
finds the eggs of the other, he breaks them.
But who is there who can avoid being struck with wonder at that which
has been noticed by Aristotle, who has enriched us with so many
valuable remarks? When the cranes[224] pass the sea in search of warmer
climes, they fly in the form of a triangle. By the first angle they
repel the resisting air; on each side, their wings serve as oars to
facilitate their flight; and the basis of their triangle is assisted by
the wind in their stern. Those which are behind rest their necks and
heads on those which precede; and as the leader has not the same
relief, because he has none to lean upon, he at length flies behind
that he may also rest, while one of those which have been eased
succeeds him, and through the whole flight each regularly takes his
turn.
I could produce many instances of this kind; but these may suffice. Let
us now proceed to things more familiar to us. The care of beasts for
their own preservation, their circumspection while feeding, and their
manner of taking rest in their lairs, are generally known, but still
they are greatly to be admired.
L. Dogs cure themselves by a vomit, the Egyptian ibis by a purge; from
whence physicians have lately--I mean but few ages since--greatly
improved their art. It is reported that panthers, which in barbarous
countries are taken with poisoned flesh, have a certain remedy[225]
that preserves them from dying; and that in Crete, the wild goats, when
they are wounded with poisoned arrows, seek for an herb called dittany,
which, when they have tasted, the arrows (they say) drop from their
bodies. It is said also that deer, before they fawn, purge themselves
with a little herb called hartswort.[226] Beasts, when they receive any
hurt, or fear it, have recourse to their natural arms: the bull to his
horns, the boar to his tusks, and the lion to his teeth. Some take to
flight, others hide themselves; the cuttle-fish vomits[227] blood; the
cramp-fish benumbs; and there are many animals that, by their
intolerable stink, oblige their pursuers to retire.
LI. But that the beauty of the world might be eternal, great care has
been taken by the providence of the Gods to perpetuate the different
kinds of animals, and vegetables, and trees, and all those things which
sink deep into the earth, and are contained in it by their roots and