Episode 088 - The Waters of the Nile And The Sulfur Pits That Are Fatal To Birds
Date: 09/18/21
Link: https://www.epicureanfriends.com/thread/2190-episode-eighty-eight-the-waters-of-the-nile-and-the-sulfur-pits-that-are-fatal-t/
Summary
Section titled “Summary”The panel reads Book 6, lines 703–818, covering: the Epicurean methodological rule that multiple natural causes may explain a single phenomenon (illustrated by a dead man on the road), the flooding of the Nile (four possible causes: Etesian winds, sand blocking the mouth, Ethiopian rains, and melting snow), the sulfurous Avernian places fatal to birds, and a catalogue of harmful natural substances (toxic trees, beaver castoreum, charcoal fumes, and mining vapors). Discussion includes the canary-in-the-coal-mine tradition traced to John Scott Haldane (1911–1986) and beaver castoreum in Swedish bäverhojt schnapps.
The episode closes with a digression on Cicero’s villa near Cumae (Cumanum) — located on the Bay of Baiae near Puteoli, drawn from a 1854 dictionary of Greek and Roman geography — and on Virgil’s Georgics 2.490: Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas (“Happy/fortunate was he who was able to know the causes of things”), followed by atque metus omnis et inexorabile fatum subiecit pedibus (“and threw beneath his feet all fears and inexorable fate”). The group notes that Virgil’s description of Lucretius as felix is frequently cited against Jerome’s claim that Lucretius died by suicide.
Transcript
Section titled “Transcript”Cassius:
Welcome to Episode 88 of Lucretius Today. I’m your host, Cassius, and together with my panelists from the EpicureanFriends.com Forum, we’ll walk you through the six books of Lucretius’s poem and discuss how Epicurean philosophy can apply to you today. We encourage you to study Epicurus for yourself, and we suggest the best place to start is the book Epicurus and His Philosophy by Canadian professor Norman DeWitt. For anyone who is not familiar with our podcast, please visit EpicureanFriends.com and let us know if you have any questions or comments.
In this episode 88, we’ll continue in Book 6 and read approximately Latin lines 703 through 818, as we discuss the waters of the Nile and the sulfur pits that kill the birds that fly over them. Now let’s join Don reading today’s text.
Don:
Besides, the sea for a great way dashes its waves against the roots of this mountain and then again sucks back its tide. The waters press into these caverns that lie directly under those open jaws above. This you must allow, and the flames, yielding to the driving flood there, force their passage out and fly abroad, and cast the fire on high, and throw out rocks, and raise whole clouds of sand. For on the summit there are certain basins where wind is generated. The Greeks call them so; we call them mouths and jaws.
There are some things observed for which it is not sufficient to assign one reason but many, out of which only one is true. And when you see the dead body of a man lying at a distance upon the ground, you are to recollect all the causes which possibly might occasion his death in order to find out the right, for you cannot correctly say whether he died by the sword, or by cold, or by disease, or perhaps by poison — that we know it was by one of these, and everyone thinks so. The same method you are to observe in many other cases.
In the Nile, the only river in all Egypt increases in the summer and overflows the fields. It waters the country of Egypt about the middle of summer, either because in summer the north winds are opposite to the mouths of the river at the season when the Etesian winds blow, and beating hard against the stream stop the current and driving the waters upward fill the channel and force back the flood — for without doubt those northern winds blow directly against the tide. The river flows from the warm climate of the south and divides the country of the black Ethiopians that are thoroughly sodden with the sun’s heat, and rises far in the most southern part of the world.
And it may be that great heaps of sand that are raised against the stream choke the mouths of the river when the sea, by the violence of the winds, drives the sand into the channel and stops it up. By this means the passages of the river are more confined and the current of the water is slower and of less force.
Or perhaps the rains are more violent near the head of the river at that season of the year when the Etesian winds blow from the north and drive all the clouds to the more southern parts. When the clouds meet in that warmer quarter they are condensed and pressed hard against the high mountains, and by that force the rain is squeezed out.
Or lastly, the increase in the river may proceed from the high mountains of the Ethiopians, when the sun that searches all things with its dissolving rays forces the melted snow to descend into the plains.
And now the nature of that place or lake we call Avernian I shall next explain. And first it takes its name from its effect, because it is fatal to birds — for when the feathered kind fly to this place their flight is stopped, they flutter in the air and fall with hanging wing and bended head upon the earth, if happily it be earth, or in the water if it be a lake.
At Cumae there is a place like this, and on Mount Vesuvius, which filled with burning sulfur throws out smoke. Another of the same there is within the walls of Athens, upon the top of that high tower near which the Tritonian Pallas has her temple. Here the hoarse ravens never steer their flight, not when the altars smoke with slaughtered victims. They do not shun this tower to avoid the rage of angry Pallas for their officious care, as Greek poets sing, but it is the noxious nature of the place that drives them hence.
They say there is such a place as this in Syria where beasts no sooner venture with their feet but the pernicious vapor strikes them dead, as if by sudden stroke they fell a sacrifice to infernal gods. All these things proceed from natural causes, and what these causes are will soon appear by tracing out their principles — lest you should think in places such as these hell gates are fixed, and fancy that the gods below draw through these passages departed souls into the infernal shades, as the swift deer are said by smelling to draw out the lurking serpents from their holes. But how absurd to reason are such thoughts? Observe, for now I am going to explain.
And first I say, as I have often said before, that in the earth are seeds of things of varied shape — many that prolong the life of man and many that inflict disease and hasten death. And I have shown that there are other seeds peculiarly disposed to serve the use of other creatures and support their life. Because these seeds are different in their nature, they vary in their texture and their shape. Many hurtful seeds pass through the ears, and many sharp and stinging seeds affect the nose. Some are offensive to the touch and some to be avoided by the sight, and others bitter to the taste. And thus you see how many things there are — deadly, distasteful, odious to the sense.
Some trees are so pernicious by their shade that they affect the head with grievous pain if one lies on the grass beneath their boughs. There is a tree that grows in the high hills of Helicon whose blossoms by their smell give present death. For in the earth are seeds of every kind, variously mixed, which she with curious art separates and applies to things, as each in its own nature most requires.
A lamp just extinguished is by its smell so offensive to the nose that it stupefies, as if a man were struck down by a fit of apoplexy. A woman will fall dead asleep at the nauseous smell of an ointment made of the castor sacs of the beaver; her fine work will drop from her tender fingers, especially if she smells it when her fluors are upon her.
Besides, there are many things that entirely dissolve the feeble limbs all over the body and shake the soul within out of her place. If you stay long in a warm bath and continue in the vessel of hot water when the belly is full, how apt will you be to faint before you get out? The suffocating power of charcoal and its stifling smell — how soon do they find a passage to the brain, unless you have drunk plentifully of water before? When a burning fever has seized upon the limbs, the smell of wine is like a stroke that takes away the sense.
Don’t you observe likewise that sulfur and bitumen, with their noxious smell, are generated in the bowels of the earth itself? And so when men pursue the veins of gold and silver, and with their tools dig in the very entrails of the earth — what hurtful vapors do the mines exhale! What deadly damps flow from the golden ore! How wretchedly the miners look — how wan their color! Have you not seen or heard how soon they die, how short their life is who are condemned to this sad servitude? The earth, then, must needs belch out these poisonous exhalations and send them all abroad and taint the open air.
Cassius:
Okay, thank you very much for reading that today, Don. I got lost there for just a minute as I was reading along, so I apologize for that. I got on the wrong section — as usual, I start looking at one of the other translations like Munro or Bailey, and I say, “Where in the world is he reading this from?” So anyway, I apologize for that.
Don:
So I’m just making it up as I go along.
Cassius:
Yeah. Well, this is a week that doesn’t have maybe only one passage of real philosophy to it, but a lot of interesting anecdotal commentary about life in ancient Roman times. So we start with 694 — now we have to go back to last week and make sure we understand. I think we’re talking about Mount Etna here when it says “the roots of this mountain,” right?
Don:
I believe so. Yeah.
Martin:
Yeah.
Cassius:
Yeah. Line 673, we started last week, talks about the fire of Etna. So I think we’re talking about that. I did think it was interesting — at the end of that paragraph he talks about “on the summit there are certain basins and the Greeks call them.” So the word in Latin is actually crateris or crater, and so it is — crater is from the ancient Greek for a big mixing bowl. So I’m curious why Brown just didn’t use the word “crater” since it’s a fine word in English now. The Latin that Lucretius actually uses for the crater of a volcano — fauces and ora — those are the words they use in Latin, evidently.
Don:
Yeah, that is interesting. I don’t understand why he would prefer “mouth and jaw” — it seems actually a little bit more primitive to me than “basin.”
Cassius:
Well, it sounds like the Greeks called them craters. And I don’t know why Brown used “basin” instead of “crater.” And then the Romans referred to them as “mouths and jaws” — because the top of the volcano if it had a crater would look like a mouth, and then down into it would be its throat. So I can understand the reason, but I find it interesting that our English word “crater” comes directly from ancient Greek.
Don:
Well, and that’s the point, I guess — we’re familiar with it because that’s the term that we use. I guess the word kratēr has some other meaning to the Greeks — maybe it does mean basin or something like that, because that’s what they use to mix their wine in.
Cassius:
Yeah, it’s the kind of jar they mix their wine in for their symposia. But evidently that was not the normal word for that particular geological formation to the ancient Romans.
And I was also thinking — as we go into this today — he’s talking mostly about Etna. Now later on in the passages today he does mention Vesuvius, but it occurred to me to compare in time. So he’s writing in like 60 BC and Vesuvius blew up in 79 AD — so over a hundred years after, basically, he’s writing. So it was still belching out its noxious fumes back whenever Lucretius was around.
Don:
Yeah, I guess if Vesuvius had already erupted when he was writing this, he probably would have been tempted to talk about it more than Etna. But I guess Etna at that point was maybe the more active volcano or something.
Martin:
Yeah, exactly. I was thinking the same thing. I mean, it’s still today like that — until 2000 years, things won’t change that much typically. So to that point, we can probably assume it’s like today, because I never heard of anything recent with Vesuvius, but Etna every couple of years starts doing something.
Cassius:
Actually, my personal knowledge of the geography is so poor. I’m familiar with Vesuvius because of all the reading about Herculaneum and Pompeii. But actually, Etna doesn’t make an impression on my mind when I hear talk about it. What’s the deal with Etna — is it in Italy as well? Is it an active volcano in Italy?
Martin:
Yeah, it belongs to Italy. It’s on the island of Sicily.
Cassius:
Oh, okay. It’s on Sicily, and it is an active volcano.
Martin:
Yes, yes. Every couple of years it does something. Sometimes, if I remember right, there were instances where people needed to flee from lava flows. So it’s not necessarily violent eruptions, but it’s the lava flows and that sort of thing — sort of like in Hawaii several years ago where they had the big lava flows. So people have warning before. Unless something very suddenly happens, people have enough warning time.
Cassius:
Slow-moving disaster.
Martin:
Well, it’s not always like that. In Japan, it happens that people died — especially fires were started on one volcano on Kyushu Island, I think. And then the fire brigade went in and many of them died when there was a gas explosion.
Cassius:
Oh, yeah. You know, I decided I better check — my knowledge of Mediterranean geography is so poor. I had to look this up to see where Sicily was. So Sicily’s the big island down at the boot, or down at the toe of the boot of Italy.
Don:
The one the boot’s going to kick.
Cassius:
The one the boot’s going to kick. Okay, so there’s a big volcano on that island. I guess that’s not altogether too far from Vesuvius, up around Naples.
Martin:
Yeah. These volcanoes in the region are there because of the African plate — or North African plate, however it’s correctly called — and the European plate collide there. Then what happens is the Mediterranean gets pushed together. Eventually the water will be forced out and the Mediterranean Sea will disappear.
Cassius:
Okay. But it seems like Etna had more of an impression on these ancient Romans and Greeks as the active volcano, certainly compared to Vesuvius. Maybe that’s their number one example of an active volcano in that time period.
Okay. Well, as we move to 703 — this is our Epicurean reasoning passage for the week probably. And it’s interesting. He picks very interesting examples when he says that there are some things for which it is not sufficient to assign one reason. Let’s pick out a dead body as the thing to talk about as the example of multiple reasons. I was thinking that same thing — of all the examples you can think of, it’s like, let’s say you see a dead man laying on the trail ahead of you. How often do you see that? And of course he has to include poison as one of the ways he could have died, because he’s always into this poisoning stuff as well.
Don:
Yeah. I fully agree with you. “Out of which only one is true” — that’s certainly the point that we’re seeing over and over: that we may not have the ability to assign a single reason even though we know that probably there’s only one reason for it. We have to just go with the fact that there may have been a number of reasons, and then if we can triangulate in on which one it was — but sometimes we’re not going to be able to.
And I do think this is an important passage, because he says there are multiple reasons for things, and it could be this or it could be this, but here explicitly he says it’s okay to go looking for the one reason that it actually is. Because I think in the past we’ve sometimes said, well, it’s okay to just let multiple options hang out there. But here he’s specifically saying it could be this or this or this, but there is only one cause, and it’s okay to go looking for that one cause if you can observe the conditions that tell you what it was.
Martin:
There’s one funny thing here — I don’t think he means it as it’s written here, so maybe we can check with the other translation. “Though we know it was by one of these” — to me this tells me it has to be one of the four things he lists. But I don’t think he really means that. These four are just examples and there are many more not listed.
Cassius:
I would agree with you, Martin. Yeah, I think that’s a good interpretation of that.
Don:
Yeah, and when I look at Bailey, it says, “Some things there are for which it is not enough to tell one cause; we must give more, one of which is yet the actual cause.” I think that’s another example — I don’t know that the language is justifying the “must.” It looks like it could be broad enough that he’s saying there may be only one, but maybe there’s not, maybe there’s more than one.
Cassius:
Yeah. I’m looking at the Perseus — I think it’s the William Ellery Leonard translation — “yet somewhat of this sort have come to him we know, and thus we have to say the same in diverse cases.” Yeah, that’s a convoluted translation there.
Don:
That’s probably a good example of why that’s not one of my favorites. Very different from what we’re seeing here. But he does sort of hedge his bets with that translation — “somewhat of this sort have come to him” — so it’s like he’s saying it could be the poison or the sword or something like this.
Cassius:
Since this is the philosophical part — maybe more than all the rest for today — not to contradict what you said earlier, Don, but you might have to really look at the language to see. You’re making the point that he might be saying it’s okay to look for the one. I don’t know that I necessarily see that in here. This could just be another statement that you need to remember there could be a number of reasons. It’s also possible that only one of them is true, but as far as going that next step to the question of “do you seek out the one that is true?” — I certainly agree with you that in general we should, and that’s implicit in everything. But I don’t know whether that really says that or not here.
Don:
No, I think you’re right. Just in looking at the Leonard translation here, I would agree with you, because it definitely has to do with the translation — and that’s a whole issue with translations. Which one do you look at? You can’t really trust one.
Cassius:
Yeah, I agree. Well, and then so as we go forward, that’s what we’re going to be doing for the next couple of paragraphs — talking about this Nile example. It seems like when people talk about things in history or whatever, the Nile always comes up. And the big mystery of the Nile is that they don’t know why it floods every year.
Don:
That’s what he’s laying out.
Cassius:
That’s what he’s laying out here too. But do I remember correctly, Martin — is it true that the Nile reverses the way it flows?
Martin:
I mean, it could be that at the mouth the tide is causing something like that, so I cannot exclude it, but I don’t think that’s the case elsewhere along the Nile. But the Nile did show some funny behavior. When I tried to find out a bit more, I saw that the geohistory of that whole area is quite interesting. The Nile used to be hundreds of meters below sea level, and so it didn’t flow into the sea at that time. But eventually all this was filled up with sediment, and so it finally reached the Mediterranean. And if you look at the tributaries, this whole water system came together also as a fairly recent part of geohistory.
What makes it now more complicated is the Romans didn’t know where the source actually was. From what I read, they could just travel down to the swamps in Sudan, and they couldn’t pass through. So they hadn’t gone further south. But apparently in the Red Sea they did travel, because they knew about Ethiopia, which is south of the swamps. But from there, with the steep mountains, they probably couldn’t get in to look further where the Nile goes. But apparently they were close enough that they could see snow on the tops of the high mountains in Central Africa, because he talks later about the snow and speculates that the Nile comes from that snow.
Cassius:
That’s definitely one of those things that you’re taught when you’re young — the mysteries of the Nile, where’s the source? The source of the Nile, and the flooding of the Nile — those have always been things that stood out to me. So I guess here he’s actually talking about more of the source, though he does seem to be talking a little bit about the blocking of the water too.
Don:
Yeah, I think he’s trying to lay out all the different reasons that the Nile floods, since it’s such a pivotal thing for Egypt and all the ancient world. He’s laying out all the different options, just like the guy who was killed with the sword or by poison — the Nile could flood because of this or this or this.
Cassius:
Yeah, the causing of the flooding is clearly what he’s mainly focused on. And from what I understand, he does hit on the right one when he talks about the rains in Ethiopia and the highlands, because evidently that’s the reason for it — he throws that in there as one option among all the others. So in going into this discussion of the Nile, he’s illustrating his point that there are potentially multiple possibilities, only some of which may be true.
Don:
I was checking out the last line in the Loeb translation of that one paragraph, and he says about the different causes for the man lying dead: “even so in many cases we have the like to say.” So I don’t think he’s necessarily endorsing investigating and searching for the right one. But if you have multiple reasons for something, you have to admit that it could be this or could be this or could be this.
Cassius:
Well, I don’t want to plant the idea that we think he ever campaigns against looking for the one if it’s possible to determine it. I think the focus would be that when it’s not possible to determine which is the right one, what do you do? At that point you simply have to keep an open mind that one or more of these multiple explanations could be the cause. But I know certainly some people will argue that Epicurean philosophy doesn’t promote scientific inquiry as much as it should — but I don’t think that’s the point being made here at all. The point being made is that you can’t just unilaterally or dogmatically pick a position, plant your flag there, and disregard all the others.
Don:
Yes, because that would be the opposite of the scientific method. You’re taking a position that you don’t have evidence to support if you choose one from among the reasonable possibilities.
Cassius:
And disregard all your other possible observations. Yeah, I’ll go along with that. Okay. All right, well, let’s turn to birds falling out of the air for no reason — the Alfred Hitchcock section of this for today.
Now, the word Avernus has something to do with birds.
Don:
Yeah, I looked it up in the Loeb translation. They have a note there that it’s from aornos, which has the alpha-privative prefix and ornis, like ornithology and birds. So it’s like “places without birds” — birdless places.
Cassius:
Oh, okay. So unbirded areas. So the orn- is the bird part and the a- is “without,” from the alpha-privative. And where is it actually located — is it a specific place?
Don:
So there is a Lake Avernus near Cumae that they bring up, that they say that’s where it originally came from. So the ancients connected its name with aornos, meaning “birdless.” And evidently Virgil has a mention of it. His version of it is Aornon, and then Lucretius gives the name Avernian to all places which are fatal to birds.
And I see the other note on the Loeb says that Lake Avernus near Cumae was reputed to be the entrance to the underworld — which I guess, because of all the sulfurous smells and that sort of thing. But it sounds like Avernian is also a general term that would apply to any volcanic type of place that gives off gases fatal to animals.
Cassius:
Exactly. You’re right. It must have been one specific place originally — like Kleenex. Every tissue that comes out of a box is a Kleenex now, whether it’s that brand or not.
Don:
Yeah.
Cassius:
And there’s also one of these, apparently — I would have thought we would have heard about this being on the Acropolis in Athens, but I guess that’s just my lack of knowledge of the Acropolis. But apparently it says something. I mean, I’m assuming it’s the Acropolis that he’s talking about. He talks about the tower.
Don:
That’s a good point. It might not be the Acropolis. Which paragraph is that in again? I’m looking at 749, I believe.
Cassius:
And he says there’s one in Syria as well. I forgot to look that one up. But of course, where we’re going is that nobody should think that these are the gates of hell. And nobody should think that the gods below draw through these passages departed souls into the infernal shades. How absurd to reason are such thoughts? And I love his little comments in there — it’s like, okay, sit back, I’m going to tell you what’s going to go on now. I told you what people think, now I’m going to tell you the truth.
Don:
Yeah.
Cassius:
Okay, so we’re talking about dead birds falling out of the sky. So we had the dead body in the second pair. We had birds here. Oh, man. Yeah, yeah. This is just a precursor to the plague — we’re just getting ready for the plague. Yeah — “they flutter in the air and fall with hanging wing and bended head upon the earth.”
And so I guess, unless somebody has further comments on the birds falling out of the sky in different places, the next thing he goes into is to remind us that in the earth there are seeds of things of various shapes, many that prolong the life of man and many that inflict disease and hasten death. It seems to be a piece with the parts about the universe not being made for humans, that the gods didn’t make it for our benefit, that sort of thing. And I think it could very well be the seeds — the atoms — that sort of thing — and then they join together in different shapes and textures, and that’s what makes the various gases and things that come out of the earth. And some of those combinations are beneficial to us, and some are harmful.
Don:
Exactly. Just like he’s previously talked about — animals of different types have different types of food that they prosper from eating, some things that we can’t eat, and we eat things that sometimes they can’t eat.
Cassius:
Exactly, exactly. Well, we might be ready to plunge into the examples of 781, which are very interesting — kind of like fables or almost like proverbs or even witchcraft-type legends about some things that cause bad reactions. And I didn’t look up the kind of lamp that he’s talking about — just extinguished, that the smell is so offensive that it stupefies — so I’m not sure what kind of a lamp he’s talking about there.
Don:
Yeah, yeah. Well, I think — I don’t know if you’ve — have you skipped over the trees?
Cassius:
No, I did, yeah, I’m sorry, I did, yeah. That one’s counterintuitive, and I have no idea what he’s talking about when he says that some trees are so pernicious by their shade that they affect the head with grievous pain if one lies on the grass beneath their boughs. So what could he be talking about? That by the shade — Martin, you got any suggestions on how the shade of a particular tree could do that?
Martin:
I guess he must end up talking about something it gives off, because I think the next one he talks about a tree whose blossoms by their smell give present death. But in that first one, he’s saying that just by the shade, they cause a headache. I mean, it could be something like — I don’t know the English name of that tree. We have a very common tree in Germany, which also was used in the belief system of the ancient Germanic tribes. And that tree, when it flowers, it drips off a lot. If you park your car underneath, you have a smear on the car from these blossoms. So it could be something in the shade — meaning you’re underneath a tree — and then of course that’s what I think it refers to. It’s not the shade itself; it has to be something else.
Cassius:
Yeah, it has to be something coming off of it or something.
Don:
According to the Loeb note, they mentioned juniper, box, and walnut in under that section. There’s a footnote there that references those three trees — one from Virgil and then the box and the walnut are from a mention in Pliny. I have to look those up and post them to the forum but they have specific citations there from Pliny’s Natural History.
Cassius:
I’m thinking box and walnut. I didn’t die the last time I walked under a walnut tree. This definitely seems like one of the ones where he’s not using any sort of first-person observation here. This is like, well, you know that tree over there — if you walk under the shade, it’s going to kill you. Oh yeah, okay, well, let’s not do that.
And of course, the reasoning there: “for in the earth are seeds of every kind, variously mixed, which she with curious art separates and applies to things, as each in its own nature most requires.”
And then we get to your lamp, which presumably we’re talking about some kind of an oil lamp with a wick in it.
Don:
Yeah, it must be, exactly. And it’s so offensive that it can stupefy you as if you’ve been struck down by a fit of apoplexy. It must be some unusual oil or something.
Martin:
Yeah, it must be a strong smell, yeah. Because even if you blow out a candle, I mean, you can smell sort of the sulfur sometimes at the end of the combustion, but it’s never stupefied me.
Cassius:
Sorry, I haven’t been there either. And nor do I have any expertise on the next item, which is the woman who will fall dead asleep at the nauseous smell of an ointment made of the castor sacs of the beaver. Now, who has the insight into that?
Don:
I had to look that up. I mean, it’s castoreum, and it is from the castor sacs of mature beavers — it’s not their testicles, but it’s around that general anatomical area, let’s say. But man, they actually used it, and they still use it, I guess, in perfumes. It was used as a food additive in the early 1900s. It’s in perfumes because it gives a sort of a leather smell to certain perfumes. And I’m just like, man, who thought of this? And it even says — one of the notes in Wikipedia, I’ll just read this: castoreum has been traditionally used in Sweden for flavoring a variety of schnapps, commonly referred to as bäverhojt, which is literally “beaver shout.”
Cassius:
Oh my gosh.
Don:
So I’m like, okay, I have never heard of any of that at all. Martin, are you familiar with that?
Martin:
No, not at all.
Cassius:
I wanted to make one more comment on this candle — so if you do use the match, then from there you can smell it. You should not be using that candle if you smell sulfur from it.
Martin:
Good point. No, you’re absolutely right. I was thinking of a match — a match gives off a strong smell. Is it sulfur? What is the chemical composition that makes it ignite?
Cassius:
Yeah, I mean, it could be phosphorus or sulfur, but most likely it’s sulfur or both.
Martin:
Gotcha. Absolutely right. That’s exactly what I was thinking of.
Cassius:
But yeah, the castoreum with the beavers — I’m like, okay, I don’t know who the first person was to decide to put that in their mouth.
Don:
Maybe it was something someone was made to eat as a prank.
Cassius:
I don’t know. Maybe when you’re processing a dead beaver to eat it, you come across a strong smell there. And I suppose, if you think of the smell of cured leather, it can have a pleasant smell to it. So if they could get that smell without going to the trouble of preserving leather and things like that, it’s like, yeah, sure.
Okay. Well, who has had the experience of staying too long in a warm bath when your stomach is full that you become faint before you get out? Is that something that we’ve observed?
Don:
I know you can certainly get sleepy. And I think we might want to consider too the kind of baths they were talking about — they could be talking about the public baths where you had their very hot steamy rooms and that sort of thing. So you almost fainted.
Martin:
Yes — my father had that experience. You almost faint when he was in a warm bath.
Cassius:
Okay. So there’s first-person observation there from Martin on that one. So yeah, we can check that one off.
How about the suffocating power of charcoal and its stifling smell that finds a passage to the brain unless you drink plenty of water beforehand? I’m wondering if he’s talking there about carbon monoxide poisoning.
Don:
Immediately went through my mind too, but is that what comes from charcoal?
Cassius:
Any combustion inside an enclosed space is going to create carbon monoxide — is that right, Martin?
Martin:
It depends on the conditions. If you have plenty of oxygen, it should be predominantly carbon dioxide. But what is more fatal at low concentration is carbon monoxide. And if you do not have the right draft so that the smoke comes out, either of these two can kill you.
Cassius:
What about the issue of having drunk a lot of water before you’re exposed to it? Would that be helpful somehow?
Martin:
I don’t think so. This would be marginally something maybe, but I think it’s just some superstition.
Cassius:
Okay, well, I come from a long line of Southern Baptists — we don’t drink much alcohol down in the south where I’m from — but the next one says that the smell of wine is like a stroke that takes away the sense when you’re in a fever. I have no clue what that could be about.
Don:
Unless this wine is so strong, you’re smelling the alcohol off of it.
Martin:
Since my diet, I almost never had fever, and if I have, in the few instances, I wouldn’t drink alcohol.
Cassius:
You’re right, exactly. Good point. Alcohol certainly has a strong smell to it.
I thought the last section there with the miners is somewhat poignant.
Don:
Yeah. He really paints a dire picture, and a realistic one, I think, too. And this made me go back to the Avernian areas and the canary in the coal mine sort of thing.
Cassius:
Yeah. He’s talking about the vapors that the mines exhale, and that sort of thing — with the canaries in the coal mines.
This whole last part of the passage is talking about sulfur and bitumen with their noxious smell. I don’t know that there’s a significant difference, or it’s significant to anybody, what the difference between sulfur and bitumen is. Does anybody know what bitumen means as opposed to sulfur?
Martin:
I think that’s raw crude oil out of the ground. It’s the sticky part in the crude oil. If you separate it, that’s the solid part that you get.
Cassius:
Okay. Because I remember seeing things in other ancient texts about using it to glue together walls and to seal up ships and things like that.
I have to say not a lot of mining goes on nearby anywhere I’ve lived before. I don’t know whether you guys have any experience with mining or not. Is there any mining in the Cologne area, Martin?
Martin:
I mean, in the past we had a lot of mining here — small scale mining, like a cottage industry. But the main mining area is to the northeast of Cologne, where they had — I think at the height of the industrialization — about 150 large-scale coal mines in operation. And in the area proper, none is left operating.
Don:
Yeah, definitely around here — western Pennsylvania, West Virginia — that was prime coal mining country. You know, I’m used to seeing all those pictures of miners with just their faces blackened with coal dust and so forth, but I don’t know that I’ve necessarily been thinking about gases from the mines being harmful to their health.
Cassius:
Oh yeah, oh, that’s a common occurrence, especially back then — there’s carbon monoxide, methane, all those sorts of things. Mine explosions happened because of that, and that’s the reason they took the canaries into the coal mines, because the canaries would die before the men would. So if the canary died, they needed to get out right away because they had hit some sort of methane or carbon monoxide or something that was going to kill them.
Don:
So I found a citation that said the canaries were used until December 30th, 1986, and it was a mining tradition that dated back to 1911. They used the canaries in the coal mine to detect carbon monoxide and other toxic gases before they hurt the humans. That’s from Smithsonian Magazine. And the idea of using canaries is credited to John Scott Haldane, known as the father of oxygen therapy. His research on carbon monoxide led him to recommend using birds to detect gases in the mines.
Cassius:
So there was a literal canary in the coal mine. Yeah, I’ve certainly heard that figure of speech before. Why would birds be more susceptible to gases?
Don:
I think just because they’re tiny and they’d be more affected more rapidly.
Cassius:
So I saw photographs of little cages with canaries in them, with the miners carrying them down into the mines. And they would keep an eye on them as they did their work, and if the canary had problems, they got out.
Martin:
My understanding is birds have a higher metabolic rate, and also for their need to fly. It could be that with higher metabolic rates, they are more susceptible to poisons which go into them — basically stop the metabolism, like carbon monoxide.
Cassius:
Oh, very good point. Yeah, that makes perfect sense. You don’t hear things like taking lizards into the coal mine or anything like that. I’ve never even thought about why the birds would be more susceptible, but a high metabolism certainly would make sense.
And Don — “have you not seen or heard how soon they die, how short their life is, who are condemned to this sad servitude?” Do miners have shorter lifespans because of those?
Don:
Well, they certainly did back then because they would work them until they killed them and then just get a fresh crop in from the next conquest that they made. I’ve read some things about just the horrible conditions in some of the silver mines and gold mines in ancient Rome. It was just horrific. He’s not talking about just getting killed from a collapse or an explosion — you had people who owned these mines and wanted the silver and gold out of them as quickly as possible. And you just worked your enslaved people until they dropped and put in a fresh batch.
Cassius:
So yeah, it just sounds horrific. And those pictures you talked about with the coal dust all over the men’s faces — if they had the black lung and everything that would affect the miners and that sort of thing. Oh yeah, I can’t even imagine. And those more modern miners were at least getting paid to go down there; the slaves certainly weren’t.
Don:
Yeah, black lung is something I have not heard in a while. But yes, that’s the disease that goes along with being in the mines, from the coal dust just lodging itself in the small tubes of your lungs.
Cassius:
Just — man, this has been a fun passage today. Never know when you may need to diagnose why the dead body on the side of the road has died. And so it’s always important to remember that you may not be able to trace it down to a single cause — it could be several causes around, and you just don’t know which one sometimes. You have to keep an open mind to whether it’s been poisoned or not.
Don:
He could have walked under the shade of a tree, too.
Cassius:
Yes, exactly. Okay, well — this was an interesting section. And that little philosophical interruption there was kind of good to take a look at as well. I think we basically are going to go along our merry way on the same kind of an argument next week as well. So we probably are at the end of a normal length session for this week. Martin, do you have any general thoughts — either on this text, or on anything else you’d like to talk about in regard to Book 6 or the poem as a whole?
Martin:
I just want to come back again on this Cumae thing. In what text from Cicero does he refer to Cumae?
Don:
In On Ends (De Finibus Bonorum et Malorum) itself — the main text that has the Epicurean section. That book consists of five books actually, and I’m pretty sure it’s either book one or book two. After that he turns to the Stoics, but I think he starts with the Epicurean section, so I believe it’s the latter part of book one and book two maybe.
Cassius:
I’m looking — I’m looking at a dictionary of Greek and Roman geography from 1854 that’s on the Perseus Digital Library, and if you will indulge me — it’s talking here about Cicero’s villa. It says: “In the latter ages of the Republic, Cumae’s neighborhood began to be frequented by the Roman nobles as a place of retirement and luxury, but these established their villas rather at Baiae and Misenum than at Cumae itself, the situation of which is far less beautiful or agreeable. Both these sites — that’s Baiae and Misenum — were however included in a municipal sense in the territory of Cumae, and hence we find Cicero applying the name of Cumanum to his villa, which was in full view of Puteoli and must therefore have been situated on the Bay of Baiae, or at least on the east side of the ridge which separates it from Cumae.”
So it was in the district of Cumae but not in the village itself.
Martin:
Well, that still didn’t tell me how close it is to Naples.
Cassius:
Yeah, it’s in Campania. I found one thing here that says it’s close — “visit Cumae in Naples” — and another one says “from Cumae in Naples.” It’s close.
Don:
Yeah, it was an important ancient town close to the busy current city of Naples.
Martin:
Yeah, but that’s 200 kilometers by road now, so that’s nothing — you can just go with it now. At that time, you’d need to load up your wagons and everything else in your household. And so his villa was evidently in the neighborhood of Cumae and not in Cumae itself.
Cassius:
And I’m not sure whether that’s where Cicero ended up being beheaded or not. It seems like when Cicero finally was killed, I don’t believe that was in Rome itself.
Don:
Yeah.
Cassius:
And you know, another huge gap in my knowledge of this is Virgil. Some of these poets from that period seem like they were associated with potentially that area. And I don’t know much about Virgil at all. I know he made the one comment in one of his poems about Lucretius — “happy Lucretius” or whatever — and I can’t believe I can’t quote that.
Don:
How embarrassing.
Cassius:
Especially that quote from Virgil — that’s one of the most famous Roman quotes. I had it memorized for a long time. You know what I’m talking about?
Don:
I’m not sure if I know what you’re talking about. Come on, come on, come on.
Cassius:
It’s actually — yes — it’s okay. Oh, this is not a very good rendition of it, but he says: “Happy was he who learned the causes of things, and put under his feet all fear, inexorable fate, and the noisy —” this is a terrible translation. Oh my gosh. I even remember the Latin but…
Don:
Yeah. Horace doesn’t mention Epicurus all that often, but this is — I don’t know — anyone who mentions Lucretius, except this reference in Virgil where he says — in fact this is one of the famous lines in all of history — it’s the quote about “happy was he who was able to know the nature of things, and to —”
Cassius:
Okay, Ovid says “the verses of the sublime Lucretius will perish only when a day will bring the end of the world.” So that’s what Ovid said. But Virgil had — this is like the most famous quote: “happy was he who was able to know the nature of things, and to —” it’s very similar to the opening of Book 1 about Epicurus himself trampling over religion and so forth. But Don, you ought to know that. I’m surprised you’re not on top of this.
Don:
Yes, stump the panel on the only —
Cassius:
I see a translation here — doesn’t give where it’s from — but “happy the person who has learned the cause of things and has put under his or her feet all fear, inexorable fate, and the noisy strife of the hell of greed.” Yeah, that’s the one. Verse 490 of Book 2 of the Georgics. It is literally translated as “fortunate who was able to know the causes of things.” But they cut off the important part, because you’re also wanting to include the part about —
Don:
John Dryden.
Cassius:
John Dryden is worthless in my opinion — he’s just one of these guys who wants to be such a poet that he obscures the meaning. Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas is the first part of it, but it continues on: “Happy who had the skill to understand nature’s hid causes, and beneath his feet all fears cast and death’s relentless doom.”
Don:
Yeah, because the latter part of it is he’s casting beneath his feet the fear of hell and —
Cassius:
Oh yeah, oh yeah. He does go on, doesn’t he.
Don:
“In the loud roar of greedy Acheron. Blessing to see who knows the rural gods, Pan, old Sylvanus, and the sister Nymphs.”
Cassius:
Yes, yes, yes. So the Latin is Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas, atque metus omnis et inexorabile fatum — so he goes against fate too! I mean, this is huge, because —
Don:
Wow, yeah.
Cassius:
“he’s cast beneath his feet the fear of hell and the roar of Acheron.” Or so: “him nor the rods of public power can bend, nor kingly purple, nor fierce feud that drives brother to turn on brother, nor descent of day —” wow, okay, that does go on.
Martin:
Okay, I’m going to have to check out Virgil now.
Don:
Yeah, well, I don’t know that there’s an awful lot beyond that. But this particular passage — for all we know it could be a reference to Epicurus himself, because everything here is really a statement that mirrors Book 1.
Cassius:
That’s a good line — it really summarizes a lot of the main points of Epicurean philosophy right there in one famous phrase from Virgil.
Don:
So, you know me, I’m always up for the Latin.
Cassius:
Yeah, yeah. Well, that particular section and quotation is one of the most famous — I at least read commentators who say it’s one of the most famous. At one point I had that memorized but I’ve obviously gone off. The Latin has inexorabile fatum — “inexorable fate” — wow, that is good. And not just phrases from it but subiecit pedibus — I think that means “threw under his feet.”
Don:
Yeah, it’s clearly a reference either to Lucretius or — in fact, I think I’ve seen this referenced a lot when people talk about why it makes no sense that Jerome would say that Lucretius killed himself. They say that Virgil would very likely not have described Lucretius as felix — as “happy” — if he had indeed committed suicide.
Cassius:
Right, and Virgil would have been in a position to know that supposedly.
Don:
Yeah.
Cassius:
Okay, that’s a good line. I’m going to have to mark that one down. So thank you for that. And even — you mentioned whether he’s talking about Lucretius or about Epicurus — and I mean, if you talk about Lucretius you’re basically by extension talking about Epicurus.
Don:
Right, right. And of course all these sophisticated experts — of which I will never be one — are able to find sections in Virgil’s poem where they look for echoes from Lucretius. They look for patterns, for different places where maybe Virgil picked up things from Lucretius. And that’s the kind of thing that you really have to devote your life to studying these poems to pull out. But apparently Virgil and some other poets from that period — Catullus — I don’t know anything about Catullus — but I believe Catullus is one of these poets from that period that people say were influenced by Lucretius.
Cassius:
So many texts, so little time.
Don:
Yeah, exactly.
Cassius:
And I’ve just rambled far too long to close it out. I’ll have to really work to edit —
Don:
Yeah, good luck on editing that part. Yeah, there’s some interesting stuff in there, but yeah, good luck editing.
Cassius:
Martin, are you complete for the day?
Martin:
I’m done for the day. Thanks.
Cassius:
Okay. And Don, anything else?
Don:
I am complete for the day.
Cassius:
Okay, very good. All right, well, appreciate it as always. We’ll come back and do it again next week. So thanks very much. Thank you. Bye bye. Bye.