"Anything else?"
Gaius thought for a moment, then added, "Two things. The first is that this doesn't prove atoms, but it looks to me to be more likely than those five elements you were talking about, because if the differences came through mixing different amounts, why wouldn't the mix change? The second is, that if you could change the groupings, you could breed sparrows into something else."
"That's logical," Timothy smiled.
"Can you change an animal into something else?" Gaius asked curiously.
"That is your exercise for tomorrow," Timothy smiled.
Chapter 13
"So, today we think about changing animals," Timothy smiled. "Your thoughts?"
"Animals have been changed. The dogs we have were at one time supposed to have come from wolves," Gaius said, "and I believe some other animals and plants have changed too. Farmers can manage flocks by breeding the best with the best, but. ."
"But?"
"The usual explanation I've heard is that the animals have a mixture of features, and by careful breeding you keep the features you want. That's not really changing, although I suppose if you say there are groups of atoms, if the odd one moved a bit, maybe that would do what you wish."
"So, does this support or not support Lucretius."
"I would say support," Gaius said. "As far as I know, you can't decide the changes. You might get bigger horses by continually breeding the biggest you have and not letting the small ones breed, but you just can't take a horse and make it into something as big as an elephant."
"Then let's think about sheep," Timothy said. "Remember your example about wool and hair?"
A rather subdued Gaius nodded. "I was wrong. The wild ones are covered in hair. The animal has changed quite significantly. So if not atoms, then. ."
"Not quite true," Timothy interrupted. "There is short wool underneath the hair in wild ones. The first sheep were domesticated for meat, and people made felt from the hairs. Eventually with breeding, the wool became longer and the hair shorter. The hair's still there, it's just very short, so the animal hasn't changed, but the amounts of what it has have changed. Aristotle states there are four categories of change. This is just a change of quantity. Now, there have been more changes. Wild sheep, or sheep that go wild, have brown or black wool. Comment?"
"I thought wool from flocks is always yellowish to white," Gaius said, "unless it comes from black sheep."
"That's because the white has been bred in," Timothy explained. "Even from a white flock, you still get the odd black sheep, but the farmer does not allow these to breed. Why do you think we want white wool?"
"To dye it?" Gaius guessed.
"And how do you dye wool?"
"I don't know," Gaius shrugged.
"So today you learn," Timothy grinned. "Out the back I have some pots of water coming to the boil. You shall dye wool."
"What on Earth will that teach me?" Gaius said with a tinge of annoyance.
"That is for you to consider," Timothy said. "Come!"
So Gaius had to follow. He spent the next hour washing wool, boiling roots of madder, soaking some wool in what he was told was a solution of alum, and some more wool in what he gathered was made from rust and vinegar, then in turn thrusting these into the hot madder solution, then washing the wool and hanging it out to dry. He had two wools: a bright orange-red and a doubtful brown.
"So, you need the mordant to fix the dye," Timothy explained, "and which mordant you use to some extent determines the colour. You can only dye white or yellow wool. The black wool always looks black. Now, you may use my library, or anything else you like. In two days we shall resume, and you shall tell me the most significant thing you can think of about dyeing, from your point of view. Then I shall tell you something I think will be of relevance to your aspirations, and you will then tell me which of the two is or was the most important. Go and think!"
* * *
"Well?" Timothy asked. "Enlighten me with your point of view!"
"If you believe Lucretius," Gaius began, "animals don't change, or if they do, they do so only very rarely, and a significant change is probably a matter of luck. My conclusion depends on this being true. Before I start we must agree. ."
"This exercise is in logic and the application of knowledge," Timothy interrupted. "You may assume Lucretius to be correct, if that helps."
"Then I have something," Gaius said, "although you won't like it."
"I can see you have something that is a triumph for Rome, or a Greek disaster, but we shall humour you, and perhaps demolish your argument. Go on!"
"The Greek civilization, all this logic, all your fine buildings, all of it requires wealth."
"Conceded."
"Accordingly," Gaius continued in an almost challenging tone, "how to get such wealth is important, under your criterion."
"It would be important if you could come up with an alternative to Roman conquest, although I should add wool dyeing is fairly well known."
"Indeed," Gaius nodded. "What is interesting, however, is how the Greeks got into this. We have agreed that you cannot dye brown wool, and we know that Greek prosperity really began with trade, mainly due to the Greeks being able to build ships to carry cargo. But you still needed cargo that nobody else had, and perhaps one of the biggest cargoes was dyed wool. The Greek cloth was sold in many places."
"That's true," Timothy said. "Is that your conclusion?"
"Oh no! But think for a moment, where did they get their light coloured wool?"
"The light coloured wool must have just come," Timothy said. "Your Lucretius is obviously wrong on that point. We know animals change. We discussed that, and. ."
"Yes, but they do not change often," Gaius interrupted. "Let's suppose sheep only developed light coloured wool once."
"So?"
"It is often said that there is much fine golden wool in the Colchis."
"That is almost certainly true. So what?"
"Then if wool only became light coloured once, and everything else was done by breeding, it is now clear by logic what happened."
"What?" a rather puzzled Timothy now asked.
"The people of the Colchis did not come to Greece," Gaius grinned, "but the Greeks were recorded as going to the Colchis. There is the story of Jason. He visited the Colchis and allegedly brought back a golden fleece. But what happened to this fleece? Nothing! It has totally disappeared without a trace, and why? Because there never was a fleece made of gold. What Jason brought back," Gaius continued to a now perplexed Timothy, "were the sheep with a light golden coloured wool, suitable for dyeing. Then, surprise surprise! Some time after Jason's visit the Greeks began trading in dyed wool. Jason simply stole the farmers' sheep, and you Greeks, unable to admit that your whole prosperity depended on theft, the likes of which you punish most severely if it's done to you, concocted this story about the Gods sending Jason, about monsters, demons, hydrae, you name it. The fact is, this Greek prosperity was based on rather mundane sheep stealing."
"That's nonsense!" Timothy snorted under his breath. "Everyone knows. ."
"Is there a logical error?" Gaius demanded.
"There're white sheep all over the place!" Timothy said. "There's no need to go that far to steal sheep, and. ."
"There isn't now," Gaius interrupted, "but was there then? You Greeks are so strong on proof? Prove it!"
"That can't be done and you know it."
"I also know that Lucretius was at least close to being right," Gaius responded. "There will be changes to animals, because the domesticated ones are different from the wild ones, but they do not happen very often. Jason went to a place known for golden wool, he came back allegedly with a golden fleece, a thing of immense value which disappeared without mention, and at the same time golden wool began to be used by the Greeks for dyeing. He came back with golden fleeces, not a golden fleece, and the fleeces were on live sheep. From this basically dishonest start, Greek prosperity emerged, based on theft." He paused, then added with a wide grin, "Apart from opportunity, little has changed!"