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If, therefore, the salamander lives in fire, as naturalists have
recorded, and if certain famous mountains of Sicily have been
continually on fire from the remotest antiquity until now, and yet
remain entire, these are sufficiently convincing examples that
everything which burns is not consumed. As the soul too, is a proof
that not everything which can suffer pain can also die, why then do
they yet demand that we produce real examples to prove that it is not
incredible that the bodies of men condemned to everlasting punishment
may retain their soul in the fire, may burn without being consumed,
and may suffer without perishing? For suitable properties will be
communicated to the substance of the flesh by Him who has endowed the
things we see with so marvellous and diverse properties, that their
very multitude prevents our wonder. For who but God the Creator of
all things has given to the flesh of the peacock its antiseptic
property? This property, when I first heard of it, seemed to me
incredible; but it happened at Carthage that a bird of this kind was
cooked and served up to me, and, taking a suitable slice of flesh from
its breast, I ordered it to be kept, and when it had been kept as
many days as make any other flesh stinking, it was produced and set
before me, and emitted no offensive smell. And after it had been laid
by for thirty days and more, it was still in the same state; and a
year after, the same still, except that it was a little more
shrivelled, and drier. Who gave to chaff such power to freeze that it
preserves snow buried under it, and such power to warm that it ripens
green fruit?
But who can explain the strange properties of fire itself, which
blackens everything it burns, though itself bright; and which, though
of the most beautiful colors, discolors almost all it touches and feeds
upon, and turns blazing fuel into grimy cinders? Still this is not
laid down as an absolutely uniform law; for, on the contrary, stones
baked in glowing fire themselves also glow, and though the fire be
rather of a red hue, and they white, yet white is congruous with
light, and black with darkness. Thus, though the fire burns the wood
in calcining the stones, these contrary effects do not result from the
contrariety of the materials. For though wood and stone differ, they
are not contraries, like black and white, the one of which colors is
produced in the stones, while the other is produced in the wood by the
same action of fire, which imparts its own brightness to the former,
while it begrimes the latter, and which could have no effect on the one
were it not fed by the other. Then what wonderful properties do we
find in charcoal, which is so brittle that a light tap breaks it and a
slight pressure pulverizes it, and yet is so strong that no moisture
rots it, nor any time causes it to decay. So enduring is it, that it
is customary in laying down landmarks to put charcoal underneath them,
so that if, after the longest interval, any one raises an action, and
pleads that there is no boundary stone, he may be convicted by the
charcoal below. What then has enabled it to last so long without
rotting, though buried in the damp earth in which [its original] wood
rots, except this same fire which consumes all things?
Again, let us consider the wonders of time; for besides growing white
in fire, which makes other things black, and of which I have already
said enough, it has also a mysterious property of conceiving fire
within it. Itself cold to the touch, it yet has a hidden store of
fire, which is not at once apparent to our senses, but which
experience teaches us, lies as it were slumbering within it even while
unseen. And it is for this reason called "quick lime," as if the
fire were the invisible soul quickening the visible substance or body.
But the marvellous thing is, that this fire is kindled when it is
extinguished. For to disengage the hidden fire the lime is moistened
or drenched with water, and then, though it be cold before, it
becomes hot by that very application which cools what is hot. As if
the fire were departing from the lime and breathing its last, it no
longer lies hid, but appears; and then the lime lying in the coldness
of death cannot be requickened, and what we before called "quick,"
we now call "slaked." What can be stranger than this? Yet there is
a greater marvel still. For if you treat the lime, not with water,
but with oil, which is as fuel to fire, no amount of oil will heat
it. Now if this marvel had been told us of some Indian mineral which
we had no opportunity of experimenting upon, we should either have
forthwith pronounced it a falsehood, or certainly should have been
greatly astonished. But things that daily present themselves to our
own observation we despise, not because they are really less
marvellous, but because they are common; so that even some products of
India itself, remote as it is from ourselves, cease to excite our
admiration as soon as we can admire them at our leisure.
The diamond is a stone possessed by many among ourselves, especially
by jewellers and lapidaries, and the stone is so hard that it can be
wrought neither by iron nor fire, nor, they say, by anything at all
except goat's blood. But do you suppose it is as much admired by
those who own it and are familiar with its properties as by those to
whom it is shown for the first time? Persons who have not seen it
perhaps do not believe what is said of it, or if they do, they wonder
as at a thing beyond their experience; and if they happen to see it,
still they marvel because they are unused to it, but gradually familiar
experience [of it] dulls their admiration. We know that the
loadstone has a wonderful power of attracting iron. When I first saw
it I was thunderstruck, for I saw an iron ring attracted and
suspended by the stone; and then, as if it had communicated its own
property to the iron it attracted, and had made it a substance like
itself, this ring was put near another, and lifted it up; and as the
first ring clung to the magnet, so did the second ring to the first.
A third and a fourth were similarly added, so that there hung from the
stone a kind of chain of rings, with their hoops connected, not
interlinking, but attached together by their outer surface. Who would
not be amazed at this virtue of the stone, subsisting as it does not
only in itself, but transmitted through so many suspended rings, and
binding them together by invisible links? Yet far more astonishing is
what I heard about this stone from my brother in the episcopate,
Severus bishop of Milevis. He told me that Bathanarius, once count
of Africa, when the bishop was dining with him, produced a magnet,
and held it under a silver plate on which he placed a bit of iron; then
as he moved his hand with the magnet underneath the plate, the iron
upon the plate moved about accordingly. The intervening silver was not
affected at all, but precisely as the magnet was moved backwards and
forwards below it, no matter how quickly, so was the iron attracted
above. I have related what I myself have witnessed; I have related
what I was told by one whom I trust as I trust my own eyes. Let me
further say what I have read about this magnet. When a diamond is
laid near it, it does not lift iron; or if it has already lifted it,
as soon as the diamond approaches, it drops it. These stones come
from India. But if we cease to admire them because they are now
familiar, how much less must they admire them who procure them very
easily and send them to us? Perhaps they are held as cheap as we hold
lime, which, because it is common, we think nothing of, though it
has the strange property of burning when water, which is wont to quench
fire, is poured on it, and of remaining cool when mixed with oil,
which ordinarily feeds fire.
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