Deipnosophistae

Athenaeus of Naucratis

Athenaeus. The Deipnosophists or Banquet Of The Learned Of Athenaeus. Yonge, Charles Duke, translator. London: Henry G. Bohn, 1854.

The next thing to be mentioned is beet-root. Of beetroot (according to the opinion of Theophrastus), the white is more juicy than the black, and it contains less seed, and it is the kind which is called the Sicilian beet. But, says he, the beet called σευτλὶς is a different kind from the τεῦτλον. On which account, Diphilus the comic poet, in his drama called the Hero, reproaches some one for speaking incorrectly, and for calling τεῦτλα, τευτλίδας. And Eudemus, in his treatise on Vegetables, says that there are four kinds of τεὖτλα: there is the kind which may be pulled, the kind with a stalk, the white kind, and the common kind; and this last is of a brown colour. But Diphilus the Siphnian says that the beet which he calls σεύτλιον is more juicy than the cabbage, and is also, in a moderate degree, more nutritious; and it ought to be boiled and eaten with mustard, and that then it has a tendency to attenuate the blood, and to destroy worms; but the white kind is better for the stomach, while the black is more diuretic. He says, also, that their roots are more pleasing to the palate, and more nutritious.

Then there is the carrot.

This vegetable,

says Diphilus,

is harsh, but tolerably nutritious, and moderately good for the stomach; but it passes quickly through the bowels, and causes flatulence: it is indigestible, diuretic, and not without some influence in prompting men to amatory feelings; on which account it is called a philtre by some people.

And Numenius, in his Man fond of Fishing, says—

Of all the plants which grow in fields unsown,
Or which take root in fertile plough'd-up lands
In winter, or when flowering spring arrives,
Such as the thistle dry, or the wild carrot,
Or the firm rape, or lastly, the wild cabbage.

And Nicander, in the second book of his Georgics, says—

Then there is also the deep root of fennel,
And of rock-parsley, and the carrot too,
Which loves dry soils, the sow-thistle, the myrrh plant,
The dog-tongue and the chicory. And with them bruise
The tough hard-tasted leaves of arum, and
The plant which farmers do entitle bird's-milk.

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Theophrastus also mentions the carrot; and Phænias, in the fifth book of his treatise on Plants, speaks as follows:—

But as to the nature of the seed, the plant which is called σὴψ and the seed of the carrot are much alike.

And in his first book he says—

The following plants have seed in pods of umbellated form: the anise, fennel, the carrot, the bur-parsley, hemlock, coriander, and aconite (which some call mousekiller).

But, since Nicander has mentioned the arum, I must also add that Phænias, in the book which I have just mentioned, writes thus:—

The dracontium, which some call arum or aronia.

But Diocles, in the first book of his treatise on the Wholesomes, calls the carrot, not σταφυλῖνος, but ἀσταφύλινος. There is also another kind which is called καρωτὸν, which is a large and well-grown carrot, more juicy than the σταφυλῖνος, and more heating,—more diuretic, very good for the stomach, and very easily digested, as Diphilus assures us.

Then there is the κεφαλωτὸν, or leek, which the same Diphilus says is also called πράσιον; and he says that it is superior to the kind called the sliced-leek, and that it has some effect in attenuating the blood, and is nutritious, and apt to cause flatulence. But Epænetus, in his Cookery Book, says that the leeks are also called γηθυλλίδες; and I find this name occurring in Eubulus, in his Pornoboscus, where he says—

I cannot now eat any other loaf,
For I've just had one at Gnathænius',
Whom I found boiling up γηθυλλίδες.

But some say that the γηθυλλὶς is the same as the peculiar kind of leek called γήθυον, which Phrynichus mentions in his Saturn. And Didymus, interpreting that play, says that the γήθυον resembles the leek called the vine-leek, or ἀμπελόπρασον; and he says that they are also called ἐπιθυλλίδες. And Epicharmus also mentions the gethyllides in his Philoctetes, where he says—

Two heads of garlic, two gethyllides.

And Aristophanes, in his second Aeolosicon, says—

Some roots of leeks (γηθύων), which taste almost like gallic.

And Polemo the geographer, in his book on Samothrace, says that Latona had a longing for the gethyllis, writing as follows:—"Among the Delphians, at the festival which

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they call the Theoxenia, there is a rule that whoever brings the largest gethyllis to Latona shall receive a portion of food from off her table; and I myself have seen a gethyllis as big as a turnip or as the round rape. And men say that Latona, when she was pregnant with Apollo, longed for the gethyllis; on which account it is treated with this respect."

Next comes the gourd. But as gourds were served round to us in the winter season, every one marvelled, thinking that they were fresh gourds; and we recollected what the beautiful Aristophanes said in his Seasons, praising the glorious Athens in these lines:—

A. There you shall at mid-winter see
Cucumbers, gourds, and grapes, and apples,
And wreaths of fragrant violets
Cover'd with dust, as if in summer.
And the same man will sell you thrushes,
And pears, and honey-comb, and olives,
Beestings, and tripe, and summer swallows,
And grasshoppers, and bullock's paunches.
There you may see full baskets packed
With figs and myrtle, crown'd with snow;
There you may see fine pumpkins join'd
To the round rape and mighty turnip;
So that a stranger well may fear
To name the season of the year.
B. That's a fine thing if all the year
A man can have whate'er he pleases.
A. Say rather, it's the worst of evils;
For if the case were different,
Men would not cherish foolish fancies
Nor rush into insane expenses.
But after some short breathing time
I might myself bear off these things;
As indeed in other cities,
Athens excepted, oft I do:
However, as I tell you now,
The Athenians have all these things.
Because, as we may well believe,
They pay due honour to the gods.
B. 'Tis well for them they honour you,
Which brings them this enjoyment, since
You seek to make their city Egypt,
Instead of the immortal Athens.

At all events, we were astonished eating cucumbers in the month of January; for they were green, and full of their own Peculiar flavour, and they happened to have been dressed by

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cooks who above all men knew how to dress and season such things. Laurentius, therefore, asked whether the ancients were acquainted with this vegetable, or with this way of dressing it. And Ulpian said—Nicander the Colophonian, in the second book of his Georgics, mentions this way of dressing the vegetable, calling the gourds not κολόκυνται, but σίκυαι; for, indeed, that was one of their names, as we have said before. And his words are:—

First cut the gourds in slices, and then run
Threads through their breadth, and dry them in the air;
Then smoke them hanging them above the fire;
So that the slaves may in the winter season
Take a large dish and fill it with the slices,
And feast on them on holidays: meanwhile
Let the cook add all sorts of vegetables,
And throw them seed and all into the dish;
Let them take strings of gherkins fairly wash'd,
And mushrooms, and all sorts of herbs in bunches,
And curly cabbages, and add them too.

The next thing to be mentioned is poultry. And since poultry was placed on the gourds and on other scraped (κνιστὰ) vegetables, (and this is what Aristophanes in his Delian Woman says of chopped up vegetables,

κνιστὰ, or pressed grapes,

) Myrtilus said,—But now, in our time, we have got into a habit of calling nothing ὄρνιθας or ὀρνίθια but pullets, of which I see a quantity now being brought round. (And Chrysippus the philosopher, in the fifth book of his Treatise on what is Honourable and Pleasant, writes thus—

As some people insist upon it that white pullets are nicer than black ones.

) And the names given to the male fowl are ἀλεκτρυόνες and ἀλεκτορίδες. But anciently, men were accustomed to use the word ὄρνις, both in the masculine and feminine gender, and to apply it to other birds, and not to this species in particular to the exclusion of others, as is now done when we speak of buying birds, and mean only poultry. Accordingly, Homer says,

And many birds (ὄρνιθες πολλοὶ) beneath the sun's bright rays.

And in another place he uses the word in the feminine gender, and says—

A tuneful bird (ὄρνιθι λιγυρῇ).

And in another place he says—

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As the bold bird her helpless young attends,
From danger guards them, and from want defends;
In search of prey she wings the spacious air,
And with untasted food supplies her care,
[*](Hom. Iliad. ix. 323, Pope's translation.)—

again using ὄρνις in the feminine gender. But Menander in his first edition of the Heiress, uses the word plainly in the sense in which it is used at the present day; saying—

A cock had loudly crow'd—
Will no one now,

He cried out,
drive this poultry (τὰς ὄρνιθας) from our doors

And again, he writes—

She scarcely could the poultry (τὰς ὄρνεις) drive away.

But Cratinus, in his Nemesis, has used the form ὀρνίθιον, saying—

And all the other birds (ὀρνίθια).

And they use not only the form ὄρνιν, but also that of ὄρνιθα, in the masculine gender. The same Cratinus says in the same play—

A scarlet winged bird (ὄρνιθα φοινικόπτερον).

And again, he says—

You, then, must now become a large bird (ὄρνιθα μέγαν).

And Sophocles, in his Antenoridæ, says—

A bird (ὄρνιθα), and a crier, and a servant.

And Aeschylus, in his Cabiri, says—

I make you not a bird (ὄρνιθα) of this my journey.

And Xenophon, in the second book of his Cyropædia, says—

Going in pursuit of birds (τοὺς ὄρνιθας) in the severest winter.

And Menander, in his Twin Sisters, says—

I came laden with birds (ὄρνεις).

And immediately afterwards he has

He sends off birds (ὄρνιθας ἀποστέλλει).

And that they often used ὄρνεις as the plural form we have the evidence of Menander to prove to us: and also Alcman says somewhere or other—

The damsels all with unaccomplish'd ends
Departed; just as frighten'd birds (ὄρνεις) who see
A hostile kite which hovers o'er their heads.

And Eupolis, in his Peoples, says—

Is it not hard that I should have such sons,
When every bird (ὄρνεις) has offspring like its sire?

But, on the other hand, the ancients sometimes also

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used the word ἀλεκτρυὼν in the feminine gender for a hen. Cratinus, in his Nemesis, says—

This is your work, O Leda. Take you care
To imitate the manners of a hen (ἀλεκτρυόνος)
And sit upon this egg, that so you may
Show us from out this shell a noble bird.

And Strattis, in his Men Fond of Cold, says—

And all the hens (αἱ δʼ ἀλεκτρυόνες ἅπασαι),
And all the pigs are also dead,
And all the little birds around.

And Anaxandrides says, in his Tereus—

They saw the boars their species propagate
With joy, and likewise all the hens (τὰς ἀλεμτρυόνας).

And since I have mentioned this comic poet, and as I know, too, that this play of his, namely Tereus, is not reckoned one of his best, I will also bring forward, my friends, for you judgment, what Chamæleon of Heraclea has said about him in the sixth book of his treatise on Comedy; where he uses the following language:—"Anaxandrides once, publishing a dithyrambic poem at Athens, entered the city on a horse, and recited some lines of his Ode. And he was a very fine, handsome man to look at; and he let his hair grow, and wore a purple robe with golden fringes, but being a man of a bitter disposition he was in the habit of behaving in some such manner as this with respect to his comedies. Whenever he did not get the victory he took his play and sent it to the frankincense market to be torn up to pack bunches of frankincense in, and did not revise it as most people did. And in this way he destroyed many clever and elegant plays; being, by reason of his old age, very sulky with the spectators. And he is said to have been a Rhodian by birth, of the city of Camirus: and I wonder therefore how it was that his Tereus got preserved, since it did not obtain the victory; and I feel the same wonder in the case of others by the same author. And Theopompus, in his Peace, also uses the word ἀλεκτρύων for hens, speaking thus—

I am so vex'd at having lost the hen (ἀλεκτρυόνα)
Which laid the finest eggs in all the yard.

And Aristophanes, in his Dædalus, says—

She laid a noble egg, like any hen (α·λεκτρυών).

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And in another place he says—

Sometimes we find that hens (ἀλεκτρυόνες) when driven about,
And frighten'd, lay wind eggs.

And in the Clouds, where he is explaining to the old man the difference between the names, he says—

A. Tell me then, now, what name I ought to give them.
B. Call this, the hen, ἀλεκτρύαιναν, thus,
And call her mate, the cock, ἀλέκτορα.

And we find the cock called ἀλεκτορὶς and ἀλέκτωρ. And Simonides writes—

O tuneful voiced ἀλέκτωπ.

And Cratinus, in his Seasons, says—

Like the Persian loud-voiced cock (ἀλέκτωρ),
Who every hour sings his song.

And he has this name from rousing us from our beds (λέκτρον). But the Dorians, who write ὄρνις with a ξ, ὄρνιξ, make the genitive with a χ, ὄρνιχος. But Aleman writes the nominative with a ς, saying—

The purple bird (ὄρνις) of spring.

Though I am aware that he too makes the genitive with a X, saying—

But yet by all the birds (ὀρνίχων).

The next thing to be mentioned is the pig, under the name of δέλφαξ. Epicharmus calls the male pig δέλφαξ in his Ulysses the Deserter, saying—

I lost by an unhappy chance
A pig (δέλφακα) belonging to the neighbours,
Which I was keeping for Eleusis
And Ceres's mysterious feast.
Much was I grieved; and now he says
That I did give it to th' Achæans,
Some kind of pledge; and swears that I
'Betray'd the pig (τὸν δέλφακα) designedly.

And Anaxilus also, in his Circe, has used the word δέλφαξ in the masculine gender; and moreover has used it of a full-grown pig, saying—

Some of you that dread goddess will transform
To pigs (δέλφακας), who range the mountains and the woods.
Some she will panthers make; some savage wolves,
And terrible lions.

But Aristophanes, in his Fryers, applies the word to female pigs; and says—

The paunch, too, of a sow in autumn born (δέλφακος ὀπωρίνης).

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And in his Acharnians he says—

For she is young (νέα), but when she is a sow (δελφακουμένα),
You'll see she'll have a large, fat, ruddy tail;
And if you keep her she'll be a noble pig (χοῖρος καλά).

And Eupolis, in his Golden Age, uses it as feminine; and Hipponax wrote—

ʽὡς ʽεφεσίη δέλφαξ.

And, indeed, it is the female pig which is more correctly called by this name, as having δελφύας, for that world δελφὺς means a womb. And it is the word from which ἀδελφὸς is derived. But respecting the age of these animals, Cratinus speaks in his Archilochi, saying—

These men have δέλφακες, the others χοῖροι.

And Aristophanes the grammarian, in his treatise on Ages, says—

Those pigs which are now come to a compact form, are called δέλφακες;; but those which are tender, and are full of juice, are called χοῖροι;

and this makes that line of Homer intelligible—

The servants all have little pigs (χοίρεα) to eat,
But on fat hogs (σύες) the dainty suitors feast.[*](Hom. Odyss. xiv. 80.)

And Plato the comic poet, in his Poet, uses the word in the masculine gender, and says—

He led away the pig (τόν δέλφακα) in silence.

But there was ancient custom, as Androtion tells us, for the sake of the produce of the herds, never to slay a sheep which had not been shorn, or which had never had young, oh which account they always ate full-grown animals:

But on fat hogs the dainty suitors feast.

And even to this day the priest of Minerva never sacrifices a lamb, and never tastes cheese. And when, on one occasion, there was a want of oxen, Philochorus says, that a law was passed that they should abstain from slaying them on account of their scarcity, wishing to get a greater number, an to increase the stock by not slaying them. But the Ionians use the word χοῖρος also of the female pig, as Hipponax does, where he says—

With pure libations and the offer'd paunch
Of a wild sow (ἀγρίας χοίρου).

And Sophocles, in his Tænarus, a satyric drama, says—

Should you then guard her, like a chain'd up sow (χοῖρον δεσμίαν)?

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And Ptolemy, the king of Egypt, in the ninth book of his Commentaries, says—

When I was at Assus, the Assians brought me a pig (χοῖρον) two cubits and a half in height, and the whole of his body corresponding in length to that height; and of a colour as white as snow: and they said that King Eumenes had been very diligent in buying all such animals of them, and that he had given as much as four thousand drachmæ a piece for one.

And Aeschylus says—

But I will place this carefully fed pig
Within the crackling oven; and, I pray,
What nicer dish can e'er be given to man?

And in another place he says—

A. Is he a white one?
B. Aye, indeed he is
A snow white pig (χοῖρος), and singed most carefully.
A. Now boil him, and take care he is not burnt.

And again in another place he says—

But having kill'd this pig (χοῖρον τόνδε), of the same litter
Which has wrought so much mischief in the house,
Pushing and turning everything upside down.

And these lines have all been quoted by Chamæleon, in his Commentary on Aeschylus.

But concerning the pig, that it is accounted a sacred animal among the Cretans, Agathocles the Babylonian, in the first book of his account of Cyzicus, speaks as follows— "They say that Jupiter was born in Crete, on the mountain Dicte; on which mountain a mysterious sacrifice used to take place. For it is said that a sow allowed Jupiter to suck its udder. And that she going about with her constant grunting, made the whining of the infant inaudible to those who were looking for him. On which account all the Cretans think that that animal is to be worshipped; and nothing, it is said, can induce them to eat its flesh. And the Praisians also sacrifice to a sow; and this is a regular sacrifice among that people before marriage. And Neanthes of Cyzicus gives a similar account, in the second book of his treatise on Mysteries.

Achæus the Eretrian mentions full-grown sows under the name of πεταλίδες ὕες in Aethon, a satyric drama, where he says—

And I have often heard of full-grown sows
Under this shape and form.

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But he has given the name of πεταλίδες by a metaphor from heifers. For they are called πέτηλοι, or spreading, from their horns, when they have spreading horns. And Eratosthenes has spoken of pigs in the same way as Achæus has in his Anterinnys, and has called them λαρινοὶ, using this word metaphorically, which properly belongs to fatted oxen which were called so from the verb λαπινεύομαι, which is a word of the same meaning as σιτίζομαι, to be fed up. And Sophron uses the word—

βόες δὲ λαρινεύονται·

or perhaps it comes from Larina, a small town of Epirus, or from the name of the herdsman, which may have been Larinus.

And once when a pig was served up before us, the half of which was being carefully roasted, and the other half boiled gently, as if it had been steamed, and when all marvelled at the cleverness of the cook, he being very proud of his skill, said—And, indeed, there is not one of you who can point out the place where he received the death wound; or where his belly was cut so as to be stuffed with all sorts of dainties. For it has thrushes in it, and other birds; and it has also in it parts of the abdomens of pigs, and slices of a sow's womb, and the yolks of eggs, and moreover the entrails of birds, with their ovaries, those also being full of delicate seasoning, and also pieces of meat shred into thin shavings and seasoned with pepper. For I am afraid to use the word ἰσίκια before Ulpian, although I know that he himself is very fond of the thing. And, indeed, my favourite author Paxamus speaks of it by this name, and I myself do not care much about using no words but such as are strictly Attic. Do you, therefore, show me now how this pig was killed, and how I contrived to roast half of him and to boil the other side. And as we kept on examining him, the cook said,—But do you think that I know less about my business than the ancient cooks, of whom the comic poets speak? for Posidipus, in his Dancing Women, speaks as follows-and it is a cook who is represented as making the following speech to his pupils—

My pupil Leucon, and the rest of you,
You fellow servants—for there is no place
Unfit to lecture upon science in;
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Know that in the cookery no seasoning
Is equal to the sauce of impudence.
And, if I must confess the whole o' the truth,
You'll find this quality of great use everywhere.
See now, this tribune, who displays a breast-plate
All over scales, or dragon wrought in steel,
Appears some Briareus; but when th' occasion
Calls for his might, he proves a very hare.
So when a cook with helpers and attendants
Comes to some stranger, and his pupils brings,
Calling the servants of the house mere humbugs,
Mere cummin splitters, famine personified;
They all crouch down before him: but if you bear
Yourself with honesty and spirit towards him,
He'll fly half flay'd with fear. Do you remember,
And, as I bade you, give fair room for boasting,
And take you care to know the taste of the guests;
For as in any other market, so
This is the goal which all your art should seek,,
To run straight into all the feasters' mouths
As into harbour. At the present moment
We're busied about a marriage feast—
An ox is offer'd as the choicest victim;
The father-in-law is an illustrious man,
The son-in-law a person of like honour;
Their wives are priestesses to the good goddess.
Corybantes, flutes, a crowd of revellers
Are all assisting at the festival.
Here's an arena for our noble art.
Always remember this.

And concerning another cook (whose name is Seuthes) the same poet speaks in the following manner—

Seuthes, in the opinion of those men,
Is a great bungler. But I'd have you know,
My excellent friend, the case of a good cook
Is not unlike that of a general.
The enemy are present,—the commander,
A chief of lofty genius, stands against them,
And fears not to support the weight of war:—
Here the whole band of revellers is the enemy,
It marches on in close array, it comes
Keen with a fortnight's calculation
Of all the feast: excitement fires their breasts,
They're ready for the fray, and watch with zeal
To see what will be served up now before them.
Think now, that such a crowd collected sits
To judge of your performance.

Then you know there is a cook in the Synephebi of Euphron; just hear what a lecture he gives—

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When, Carion, you a supper do prepare,
For those who their own contributions bring,
You have no time to play, nor how to practise
For the first time the lessons you've received.
And you were yesterday in danger too;
For not one single one of all your tenches
Had any liver, but they all were empty.
The brain was decomposed too.—But you must,
O Carion, when at any future time
You chance a band like this to thus encounter,
As Dromon, Cerdon, and Soterides,
Giving you all the wages that you ask'd,
Deal with them fairly. Where we now are going
To a marriage feast, there try experiments.
And if you well remember all my rules,
You are my real pupil; and a cook
By no means common: 'tis an opportunity
A man should pray for. Make the best of it,
The old man is a miser, and his pay
Is little. If I do not find you eating up
The very coals, you're done for. Now go in;
For here the old man comes himself, behold
How like a skin-flint usurer he looks!

But the cook in Sosipater's Liar is a great sophist, and in no respect inferior to the physicians in impudence. And he speaks as follows—

A. My art, if you now rightly do consider it,
Is not, O Demylus, at all an art
To be consider'd lightly;—but alas,
'Tis too much prostituted; and you'll find
That nearly all men fear not to profess
That they are cooks, though the first principles
Of the great art are wholly strange to them;
And so the whole art is discredited.
But when you meet an honest, genuine cook,
Who from his childhood long has learnt the art,
And knows its great effects, and has its rules
Deep buried in his mind; then, take my word,
You'll find the business quite a different thing.
There are but three of us now left in Greece;
Boidion, and Chariades, and I;
The rest are all the vilest of the vile.
B. Indeed?
A. I mean it. We alone preserve
The school of Sicon: he was the great teacher
Of all our art: he was the first who taught us
To scan the stars with judgment: the great Sicon!
Then, next to this he made us architects:
He open'd too the paths of physical knowledge;
And after this he taught us all the rules
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Of military science; for all these
Were but preliminaries accessory
To the preeminent, god-like art of cooking.
B. I think you mean to choke me, my good friend.
A. Not I; but till the boy comes back from market
I'll stir you up a little with some rules
About your art, since we can never have
A more convenient time for talking of it.
B. Oh, by Apollo, you're a zealous man.
A. Listen, my friend. In the first place, a cook
Must the sublimer sciences have learnt:
He must know when the stars do set and rise,
And why. Moreover, when the sun returns,
Causing the long and short days on the earth;
And in what figures of the zodiac
He is from time to time. For, men do say
All fish, and every meat and herb we eat,
Have different qualities at different seasons
Of the revolving year; and he who knows
The principles and reasons of these things
Will use each meat when it is most in season;
And he who knows them not, but acts at random,
Is always laugh'd at most deservedly.
Perhaps, too, you don't know wherein the science
Of th' architect can bear on this our art.
B. Indeed I wondered what it had to do with it.
A. I'll tell you:—rightly to arrange the kitchen,
To let in just the light that's requisite,
To know the quarter whence the winds blow most,
Are all of great importance in this business—
For smoke, according to which way it goes,
Makes a great difference when you dress a dinner.
B. That may be; but what need is there, I pray,
For cooks to have the science of generals?
A. Order is a prevailing principle
In every art; and most of all in ours:
For to serve up and take away each dish
In regular order, and to know the time
When quick t' advance them, and when slowly bring,
And how each guest may feel towards the supper,
And when hot dishes should be set before him,
When warm ones, and when regular cold meat
Should be served up, depends on various branches
Of strategetic knowledge, like a general's.
B. Since then you've shown me what I wish'd to know,
May you, departing now, enjoy yourself.

And the cook in the Milesians of Alexis is not very different from this, for he speaks as follows—

A. Do you not know, that in most arts and trades
'Tis not th' artificer who alone has pow'r
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O'er their enjoyment Those who use them too
Contribute all their part, if well they use them.
B. How so? Let me, O stranger, understand.
A. The duty of the cook is but to dress
And rightly season meat; and nothing more.
If, then, the man who is to eat his meat,
And judge of it, comes in proper time,
He aids the cook in that his business.
But if he come too late, so that the joint
Already roasted must be warm'd again,
Or if he come too soon, so that the cook
Is forced to roast the meat with undue haste,
He spoils the pleasure which he might have had
From the cook's skill by his unpunctuality.
I class a cook among philosophers;
You're standing round; my fire is alight;
See how the numerous dogs of Vulcan's pack
Leap to the roof; . . . . .
. . . . . . You know what happens next:
And so some unforeseen necessity
Has brought on us alone this end of life.

But Euphron, whom I mentioned a little while ago, O judges, (for I do not hesitate to call you judges, while awaiting the decision of your sense,) in his play called the Brothers, having represented a certain cook as a well-educated man of extensive learning, and enumerating all the artists before his time, and what particular excellence each of them had, and what he surpassed the rest in, still never mentioned anything of such a nature as I have frequently prepared for you. Accordingly, he speaks as follows—

I have, ere this, had many pupils, Lycus,
Because I've always had both wit and knowledge;
But you, the youngest of them all, are now
Leaving my house an all-accomplish'd cook
In less than forty weeks. There was the Rhodian
Agis, the best of cooks to roast a fish;
Nereus, the Chian, could a conger boil
Fit for the gods: Charides, of Athens,
Could season forcemeat of the whitest hue:
Black broth was first devised by Lamprias;
Sausages rich we owe to Aphthonetus;
Euthunus taught us to make lentil soup;
Aristion made out whole bills of fare
For those who like a picnic entertainment.
So, like those grave philosophers of old,
These are our seven wisest of all cooks.
But I, for all the other ground I saw
v.2.p.598
Had been pre-occupied by former artists,
First found out how to steal, in such a way
That no one blamed me, but all sought at once
T' engage my aid. And you, perceiving too
This ground already occupied by me,
Invented something new yourself—'tis this:—
Five days ago the Tenians, grey old men,
After a tedious voyage o'er the sea,
Did hold a sacrifice: a small thin kid:
Lycus could crib no portion of that meat,
Nor could his master. Yon compelled the men
To furnish two more kids. For as they long
And oft survey'd the liver of the victims,
You, letting down one unperceived hand,
Were impudent enough to throw the kidneys
Into the ditch: you raised a mighty tumult:
The victim has no kidneys,
they exclaim'd,
And all look'd downcast at-th', unsual want.
They slew another and again I saw
You eat the heart from out this second victim.
You surely are a mighty man; you know it-
For you alone have found a way to hinder
A wolf (λύκον) from opening his mouth in vain.
And 1 yesterday you threw some strings of sausages
(Which you had sought all day) into the fire,
And sang to the dichordon. And I witness'd
That play of yours; but this is merely sport.

I wonder if it was any of these second seven wise men who contrived this device about the pig, so as to stuff his inside without cutting his throat, and so as to roast one side of him and boil the other at the same time. And as we now urged and entreated him to explain this clever device to us, he said,—I will not tell you this year, I swear by those who encountered danger at Marathon, and also by those who fought at Salamis. So when he had taken such an oath as that, we all thought we ought not to press the man; but all began to lay hands on the different dishes which were served up before us. And Ulpian said,—I swear by those who encountered danger at Artemisium, no one shall taste of anything before we are told in what ancient author the word παραφέρω is used in the sense of serving up. For as to the word γεύματα, I think I am the only person who knows anything about that. And Magnus said, Aristophanes in his Proagon says— [*](This is very obscure and corrupt. Casaubon suspects the genuineness of the last four lines altogether.)

v.2.p.599

Why did you not desire him to place
The goblets on the board (παραφέρειν)?

And Sophron, in his Female Actresses, uses the word in a more general sense, where he says—

O Cocoas, bring (παράφερε) me now a goblet full.

And Plato, in his Lacedæmonians, says—

Let him bring forward (παραφερέτω).

And Alexis, in his Pamphila, says—

He laid the table, then he placed on it (παραφέρων)
Good things in wagon loads.

But concerning the word γεύματα, meaning anything which is tasted, food, the exclusive knowledge about which you have claimed for yourself, it is time for you now to tell us, O Ulpian, what you do know. For as to the verb γεῦσαι, we have that in Eupolis, in his Goats, where he says—

Take now of this, and taste (γεῦσαι) it.

And Ulpian said, Ephippus in his Peltastes says—

There there were stations for the horses and asses,
And wine to drink (γεύματα οἴνων).

And Antiphanes, in his Twins, says—

Now he drinks wine (οἰνογευστεῖ) and walks about in splendour,
Wreathed with flowery garlands.

On this the cook said—I, then, will relate to you now, not an ancient contrivance, but a device of my own, in order that the flute-player may escape being beaten; (for Eubulus, in his Lacedæmonians or Leda, says—

But I have heard of this, I swear by Vesta,
That when the cook at home makes any blunder,
The flute-player is always beaten for it.

And Philyllius, or whoever the poet may have been who wrote the play of The Cities, says—

Whatever blunders now the cook may make,
The flute-player receives the stripes for them.)

And I mean the device about the pig half-roasted, half-boiled, and stuffed, without having had any apparent incision made in him. The fact is, the pig was stuck with a very short wound under his shoulder; (and he showed the wound.) Then when the greater part of the blood had flowed from it, all the entrails, with the intestines, I washed (and the word ἐξαίρεσις, O you revellers who think so much of words, means

v.2.p.600

not only a taking out, but also the entrails themselves) care- fully in wine several times, and hung the pig up by his feet. Then again I washed him in wine; and having boiled up beforehand all the seasonings which I have spoken of with a good deal of pepper, I pushed them in at his mouth, pouring in afterwards a quantity of broth very carefully made. And after this I plastered over one-half of the pig, as you see, with a great quantity of barleymeal, having soaked that in wine and oil. And then I put it in an oven, placing under it a brazen table, and I roasted it at a gentle fire, so as not to burn it, nor, on the other hand, to take it away before it was quite done. And when the skin began to get roasted and brown, I conjectured that the other side was boiled enough. And so then I took off the barleymeal, and brought it up in that condition and set it before you.

But as to the word ἐξαίρεσις, my excellent friend Ulpian, Dionysius the comic poet, in his drama called Things having the same Name, speaks thus, representing a cook speaking to his pupils—

Come now, O Dromon, if you aught do know,
Wise or accomplish'd in your business,
Or fit to charm the eyes, reveal it straight
To me your master. For I ask you now
For a brief exhibition of your skill.
I'm leading you into an enemy's country;
Come gaily to the charge. They'll weigh the meat
And count the joints they give you, and they'll watch you:
But you, by boiling them to pieces, will
Not only make them tender, but confuse
The number of the pieces, so as quite
To upset all their calculations.
They bring you a fine fish;—his trail is yours.
And if you filch a slice, that, too, is yours.
While we are in the house: when we've got out
It then belongs to me. Th' ἐξαιρέσεις,
And all the other parts, which can't be counted,
In which you cannot easily be found out,
Which may be class'd as parings and as scrapings,
Shall make a feast for you and me to-morrow.
And let the porter share in all your spoils,
That you may pass his gate with his good-will.
Why need I say much to a prudent man?
You are my pupil, I am your preceptor,
Remember this, and come along with me.

And so when we had all praised the cook for the

v.2.p.601

readiness of his discourse, and for the exceeding perfection of his skill, our excellent entertainer Laurentius said—And how much better it is for cooks to learn such things as these, than as they do with one whom I could mention of our fellow-citizens, who having had his head turned by riches and luxury, compelled his cooks to learn the dialogues of the incomparable Plato, and when they were bringing in dishes to say,

One, two, three, but where is the fourth, O most excellent Timæus, of those who were guests yesterday, but who are hosts to-day?

Then another made answer,

An illness has overtaken him, O Socrates,

—and so they went through the whole dialogue in this manner, so that those who were at the feast were very indignant, arid so that that all-accomplished man was laughed at and insulted every day, and that on this account many most respectable men refused all invitations to his entertainments. But these cooks of ours, who are perhaps just as well instructed in these things as he was, give us no little pleasure. And then the slave who had been praised for his cleverness as a cook, said,—Now what have my predecessors ever devised or told us of a similar kind to this and is not my behaviour moderate enough, since I do not boast myself? And yet Corebus the Elean, who was the first man who ever was crowned as victor in the Olympic games, was a cook; and yet he was not as proud of his skill and of his art as the cook in Straton in the Phœnicides, concerning whom the man who had hired him speaks thus—

'Tis a male sphinx, and not a cook, that I
Seem to have introduced into my house.
For by the gods I swear there's not one thing
Of all he says that I can understand,
So full is he of fine new-fangled words.
For when he first came in, he, looking big,
Ask'd me this question—"How many μέροπες [*](μέροπες means properly men speaking articulately, in contradis- tinction to brutes. It is a favourite word with Homer.) now
Have you invited here to dinner? Tell me."—
How many μέροπες have I ask'd to dinner
—
You're angry.
—"Do you think that I'm a man
To have acquaintance with your μέροπεσ?
It is a fine idea, to make a banquet
And ask a lot of μέροπες to eat it."
Then do you mean there'll be no δαιτύμων (guest)?
No Dætymon that I know of.
—Then I counted—
v.2.p.602
There'll be Philinus, and Niceratus,
And Moschion, and this man too, and that—
And so I counted them all name by name;
But there was not a Dætymon among them.
No Dætymon will come,
said I.
What! no one ?

Replied he in a rage, as though insulted
That not a Dætymon had been invited.
Do you not slay that tearer up of th' earth,
Said he,
the broad-brow'd ox?
"In truth, not I;
I've got no ox to kill, you stupid fellow."
Then you will immolate some sheep?
"Not I,
By Jove; nor ox, nor sheep, but there's a lamb."
What! don't you know, said he, that lambs are sheep?
Indeed,
said I, "I neither know nor care
For all this nonsense. I'm but country bred;
So speak more plainly, if you speak at all."
Why, don't you know that this is Homer's language
My good cook, Homer was a man who had
A right to call things any names he pleased;
But what, in Vesta's name, is that to us?"
At least you can't object when I quote him.
Why, do you mean to kill me with your Homer?
No, but it is my usual way of talking.
Then get another way, while here with me.
Shall I,
says he, "for your four dirty drachmas,
Give up my eloquence and usual habits?
Well, bring me here the οὐλόχυται." Oh me!
What are οὐλόχυται?"
Those barley-cakes.

You madman, why such roundabout expressions?
Is there no sediment of the sea at hand?
"Sediment Speak plain; do tell me what you want
In words I understand."
Old man,
says he,
"You are most wondrous dull; have you no salt?
That's sediment, and that you ought to know;
Bring me the basin."—So they brought it. He
Then slew the animals, adding heaps of words
Which not a soul of us could understand,
μίστυλλα, μοίρας,σίπτυχʼ, ὀβελούς[*](These are words applied by Homer to sacrifices.—μοῖρα is a portion, and ὀβελὸς a spit; but μίστυλλα is only a word derived from Homer's verb μιστύλλω, (from which Aemilianus, a friend of Martial, called his cook Mistyllus,) and δίπτυχα is used by Homer as an adverb.)
So that I took Philetas' Lexicon down,
To see what each of all these words did mean.
And then once more I pray'd of him to change,
And speak like other men; by earth I swear,
Persuasion's self could not have work'd on him.

But the race of cooks are really very curious for the most part about the histories and names of things. Accordingly the most learned of them say,

The knee is nearer than
v.2.p.603
the leg,

—and,

I have travelled over Asia and Europe:

and when they are finding fault with any one they say,

It is impossible to make a Peleus out of an Œneus.

—and I once marvelled at one of the old cooks, after I had enjoyed his skill and the specimens of his art which he had invented. And Alexis, in his Caldron, introduces one speaking in he following manner—

A. He boil'd, it seem'd to me, some pork, from off
A pig who died by suffocation.
B. That's nice.
A. And then he scorch'd it at the fire.
B. Never mind that; that can be remedied.
A. How so?
B. Take some cold vinegar, and pour it
Into a plate. Dost heed me Then take up
The dish while hot and put it in the vinegar;
For while 'tis hot 'twill draw the moisture up
Through its material, which is porous all;
And so fermenting, like a pumice-stone,
'Twill open all its spongy passages,
Through which it will imbibe new moisture thoroughly.
And so the meat will cease to seem dried up,
But will be moist and succulent again.
A. O Phœbus, what a great physician's here!
O Glaucias!—I will do all you tell me.
B. And serve them, when you do serve them up,
(Dost mark me?) cold; for so no smell too strong
Will strike the nostrils; but rise high above them.
A. It seems to me you're fitter to write books
Than to cook dinners; since you quibble much
In all your speeches, jesting on your art.