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Book IX.

  • The words τακερὸς and σίναπι
  • -- The word πάροψις -- Turnips -- Cabbage -- Leeks -- Poultry -- Anaxandrides -- Pigs -- Cooks -- Use of particular Words -- Learned Cooks -- Cooks -- Use of particular Words -- Made Dishes -- Pheasants -- The Porphyrion -- Partridges -- The Bustard -- Sparrows -- Quails -- Pigeons -- Ducks -- Sucklings -- Attic form of Nouns in ως -- Loins -- Hares -- The word σύαγρος -- Dinners -- Cookery -- Chamæleon -- Bean Soup -- Soap -- Towels

    But now let each becalm his troubled breast,
    Wash, and partake serene the friendly feast;
    While to renew these topics we delay
    Till Heaven's revolving lamp restores the day,
    both to you and me, O Timocrates. For when some hams were brought round, and come one asked whether they were tender, using the word τακερὸς,—In what author does τακερὸς occur? said Ulpian: and is there any authority, too, for calling mustard σίναπι instead of νᾶπυ̣ For I see that that condiment is being brought round in the dishes with the hams. And I see that the word κωλεὸς, a ham, is now used in the masculine gender, and not in the feminine only, as our Attic writers use it. At all events, Epicharmus, in his Megarian Woman, says—
    Sausages, cheese, and hams (κωλεοὶ), and artichokes,
    But not a single thing that's eatable:
    [p. 577] and in his Cyclops he says—
    Pig's tripe is good, by Jove, and so is ham (κωλεός).
    And learn this now from me, O you wise man, that Epicharmus, in this last passage, uses χορδὴ for what, in every other place, he calls ὀρύα, tripe. And I see, too, that salt is used in seasoning in other dishes; but of salt which is not seasoned the Cynics are full, among whom we find, in the Corycus of Antiphanes, another Cynic saying—
    Of delicacies which the sea produces,
    We have but one, but that is constant, salt;
    And then1 . . . . . .
    I see, too, that brine is mingled with vinegar; and I know, too, that now some of the inhabitants of Pontus prepare the pickle which they call oxygarum, or vinegar pickle, by itself.


    Zoilus replied to this, and said-Aristophanes, my good friend, in his Lemnian Woman, has used the word τακερὸς for delicate, saying—
    Lemnus producing good and delicate (τακεροὺς) beans:
    and Pherecrates, in his Crapatalli, says—
    To make the vetches delicate (τυκερούς):
    and Nicander the Colophonian has used the word σίναπι in his Theriacans, where he said—
    A brazen cucumber and mustard too (σίνηπυ);
    and in his Georgics he writes—
    The biting pungent seed of mustard (σινήπυος);
    and again he says—
    Cardamum and the plant which stings the nose,
    The black-leav'd mustard (σίνηπυ).
    And Crates, in his treatise on the Attic Dialect, introduces Aristophanes as saying—
    He looked mustard (σίναπυ) and drew down his brows,
    as Seleucus quotes it, in his books on Hellenism. But it is a line out of the Knights, and it ought to be read thus—
    κἄβλεψε νάπυ, not καὶ βλέπε σινάπυ:
    for no Attic writer ever used the form σίναπυ, although there is a reason for each form. For νάπυ may be said, as if it were νάφυ, because it has no φύσις, or growth. Fr it is ἀφυὲς and little, like the anchovy, which is called ἀφύη, and is called σίναπυ, because it injures the eyes (σίνεται τοὺς ὦπας[p. 578] by its smell, as the onion has the name of κρόμμυον, because it makes us wink our eyes (ὅτι τὰς κόρας μύομεν). And Xenarchus the comic writer says, in his Scythians—
    This evil is no longer evil; so
    My daughter is corrupted by the stranger.
    And that exquisite writer, Aristophanes, mentions salt and vinegar, saying, in the place where he speaks of Sthenelus the tragedian,—
    A. How can I swallow Sthenelus's words?
    B. By soaking them in vinegar or white salt.


    We then, my good friend, have gone along with you in these inquiries. But we have a right to expect an answer from you, in what author the word παροψὶς is used for a vessel. For when speaking of some victuals of various sorts, which were carefully dressed, and of some other things of this sort, I am aware that Plato, in his Festivals, has used the following expressions—
    Whence barley-cakes might be got, and παροψίδες.
    And again, in his Europa, speaking at considerable length of some exquisite dish, he has used the following expressions among others—
    A. The woman is asleep;
    B. I am aware
    That she is doing nothing.
    A. The παροψίδες
    Are all awake; and there is not a thing
    More calculated to give pleasure always.
    B. But where are these παροψίδες, I pray you?
    And in the passage immediately following, he uses the word παροψὶς, as if it were equivalent to παροψώνημα, a delicacy; and in his Phaon he says—
    Other men's things are like παροψίδες,
    They please a short time, and are quickly spent.
    And Aristophanes, in his Dædalus, says—
    All women have one set of principles,
    And have a lover, like a παροψὶς, ready.


    So when Ulpian made no reply,—But I, said Leonidas, have a right to speak, since I have been silent a long time. But as Evenus the Parian says—
    Many men make a point of contradicting
    On every subject equally; but care not
    Whether they rightly contradict or not.
    [p. 579] But for such men there's an old answer fitting,
    “That may be your opinion, this is mine.”
    But with good arguments one may persuade
    The wise with ease: for always men of sense
    Do prove, the easiest pupils.


    And my excellent friend Myrtilus,—for I have taken the words out of your mouth, Antiphanes,—in his Bœotian, has used this word παροψὶς for a vessel, where he says—
    After she has invited you to supper,
    She sets before you a παροψὶς full of . . . .
    And Alexis, in his Hesione, says—
    But when he saw two men well loaded with
    The table and conveying it in-doors,
    Groaning beneath a number of παροψίδες,
    Looking no more at me, he said . . . .
    And the man who was the author of the plays which are attributed to Magnes, says in his first Bacchus—
    These things are now παροψίδες of ill to me.
    And Achæus, in his Aethon, a satyric drama, says—
    And let these savoury boil'd and roasted meats
    On the παροψίδες be carved in pieces.
    And Sotades the comic writer says, in his Man wrongly Ransomed—
    I a παροψὶς seem to Crobylus.
    Him he devours alone, but me he takes
    But as a seasoning to something else.
    But the word is used in an ambiguous sense by Xenophon, in the first book of his Cyropædia. For the philosopher says, “They brought him παροψίδας, and condiments of all sorts, and food of all kinds.” And in the works of the author of Chiron, which is usually attributed to Pherecrates, the word παροψὶς is used for seasoning; and not, as Didymus, in his treatise on Words used in a Corrupted Sense, asserts, for a vessel. For he says—
    By Jove, as παροψίδες are praised or blamed
    Because of the way in which they flavour meat,
    So Caletas esteems these people nothing.
    And Nicophon, in his Sirens, says—
    Others may fight the παροψὶς for their seat.
    And Aristophanes says, in his Dædalus,—
    All women have one set of principles,
    And have a lover, like a παροψὶς, ready.
    [p. 580] And Plato says, in his Festivals,—
    Whence barley-cakes may be got, and παροψίδες.
    But he is speaking here of cooking and seasoning onions. But the Attic writers, O my Syri-Attic friend Ulpian, use ἔμβαμμα also in this sense; as Theopompus says, in his Peace:—
    Bread's a good thing; but flattery and tricks,
    When added as a seasoning (ἔμβαμμα) to bread,
    Are odious as can be.


    When speaking of hams, they use the two forms κωλῆ and κωλήν. Eupolis, in his Autolycus, says—
    The legs and hams (κῳλῆες) out of the soup.
    And Euripides, in his Sciron, says—
    Nor hams (κωλῆνες) of kids.
    But the word κωλῆ is contracted from κωλέα, as συκῆ from συκέα, λεοντῆ from λεοντέα; so κωλῆ from κωλέα. Aristophanes, in his second Plutus, says—
    Alas the ham (κωλῆς) which I have just devour'd!
    And in his Daitaleis he says—
    And the fat hams (κωλαὶ) of tender little pigs
    And dainty tit-bits swift to fly.
    And in his Storks he says—
    The heads of lambs, the hams (κωλὰς) of kids.
    And Plato, in his Griffins, says—
    Fish, and hams (κωλὰς), and sausages.
    And Ameipsias, in his Connus, says—
    The ham (κωλῆ) from off the victim, and the ribs,
    And the left side o' th' head are usually given.
    And Xenophon, in his book on Hunting, says—“The ham (κωλῆ) is fleshy, and the loins moist.” And Xenophanes the Colophonian, in his Elegies, says—
    For having sent a ham (κωλῆ) of kid, you won
    A mighty leg of carefully fatted bull,
    An honourable present for a man,
    Whose glory shall pervade all Greece, and never
    Cease while the poets and the songs of Greece
    Survive in memory and the mouths of men.


    And as immediately after this a great quantity of food of all sorts was brought in, we will just mention those dishes which seem most worthy of being remembered; for there [p. 581] was a great quantity of birds, and of geese, and also of young birds (which some people call πίποι), and of pigs, and of those highly-esteemed birds the pheasants. And after I have told you about the vegetables, I will then enumerate to you the other dishes also.


    First of all, there were turnips; and Apellas in his treatise on the Cities in Peloponnesus, says that turnips are called γαστέρες by the Lacedæmonians: and Nicander the Colophonian, in his Dialects, says that among the Bœotians it is cabbages which are called γαστέρες, and that turnips are called in Bœotia ζεκελτίδες. But Amerias and Timachidas affirm that it is gourds which are called ζακελτίδες. And Speusippus, in the second book of his treatise on Things resembling one another, says—“The radish, the turnip, the rape, and the nasturtium all resemble each other.” But Glaucus, in his Cookery Book, spells the word ῥάφυς (rape) with the lene π,ῥάπυς. But these vegetables have nothing else like them, unless, indeed, it be the plant which we call bounias: but Theophrastus does not use the name of bounias, but calls it a sort of male turnip; and perhaps the plant which he means is the bounias. And Nicander, in his Georgics, mentions the bounias—
    Sow turnips on a well-roll'd field, that they
    May grow as large as the flat dish that holds them,
    * * * *
    . . . . . For there are two kinds
    Which from the radish spring: one long, one firm,
    Both seen in well-till'd beds in kitchen gardens.
    And the turnips which grow on the banks of the Cephisus are mentioned by Cratis, in his Orators, thus—
    And wholly like the turnips of Cephisus.

    But Theophrastus says that there are two kinds of turnips, the male and the female, and that they both come from the same seed; but Posidonius the Stoic philosopher, in the twenty-seventh book of his Histories, concerning Dalmatia, says that there are some turnips which grow without any cultivation, and also some carrots that grow wild. But Diphilus the physician, of Siphnos, says—“The turnip has attenuating properties, and is harsh and indigestible, and moreover is apt to cause flatulence: but the vegetable called bounias is superior to that; for it is sweeter in taste and [p. 582] more digestible, in addition to being wholesome for the sto- mach and nutritious. But the turnip,” he says, “when roasted, is more easily digested, but in this state it attenuates the blood still more.” This vegetable is mentioned by Eubulus, in his Ancylion, where he says—

    I bring this turnip to be roasted now.
    And Alexis, in his Enthusiast, says—
    I speak to Ptolemy, roasting slices of turnip.
    But the turnip, when pickled, is more attenuating in its effects than when boiled, especially when it is pickled with mustard, as Diphilus says.


    Then there was the cabbage. Eudemus the Athenian, in his treatise on Vegetables, says that there are three kinds of cabbage—the kind called the salt-cabbage, and the smooth-leaved-cabbage, and the parsley-cabbage: and that the salt-cabbage is reckoned the finest of all in respect of its delicacy of taste; and it grows in Eretria, and Cyme, and Rhodes, and also in Cnidos and Ephesus: but the smooth-leaved kind is found in every country; and the parsley-cabbage has its name from the curly nature of its leaves, for it is like parsley, both in that respect and in its general thickness. But Theophrastus writes thus—“But of the, ῥάφανος,—I mean the cabbage,—there is one kind with curly leaves, and another with smooth leaves, and a third which is wild.” And Diphilus the Siphnian says—“The finest and most delicious cabbage grows in Cyme; in Alexandria it is bitter; and the seed which is brought from Rhodes to Alexandria produces sweet cabbage for one year, after which time it degenerates again, from the nature of the soil.” And Nicander, in his Georgics, says—
    The smooth-leaved cabbage sometimes wild is found,
    And then the curly many-leaved plants
    Are often sown in beds; . . . . . . .
    There is another kind, of reddish colour,
    Like frogs in drought; some of bad colour too
    Do come from Cyme, like the dingy soles
    Which cobblers often sew on worn-out boots;
    And these the ancients do the Prophets call
    But perhaps Nicander calls the cabbage Prophet, as being sacred; since in Hipponax, in his Iambics, we find some such lines as these,—
    He falling down worshipp'd the seven-leaved cabbage,
    To which, before she drank the poison'd draught,
    Pandora brought a cake at the Thargelia.
    [p. 583] And Ananius says—
    And, by the cabbage do I swear, I love thee
    By far the most of mortal men . . .
    And Teleclides, in his Prytanes, uses the oath, “Yes, by the cabbages” and Epicharmus has the same exclamation in his Earth and Sea; and so has Eupolis, in his Dyer; and it appears to have been an Ionian oath: and there is nothing very strange in the fact of some people having sworn by the cabbage, since Zeno the Cittiæan, the founder of the sect of the Stoics, imitating the oath of Socrates, “by the bitch,” was used himself to swear “by the caper,” as Empodus relates in his Memorabilia.


    And at Athens the cabbage used to be given to women who had just been delivered, as a sort of medicine, having a tendency to add to their nourishment. Accordingly, Ephippus, in his Geryones, says—
    What shall next be done?
    There is no garland now before the doors,
    No savoury smell strikes on my nostril's edge
    From Amphidromian festival, in which
    The custom is to roast large bits of cheese,
    Such as the Chersonesus furnishes,
    And then to boil a radish bright with oil,
    And fry the breasts of well-fed household Iamb,
    And to pluck pigeons, thrushes too, and finches,
    And to eat squids and cuttle-fish together,
    And many polypi with wondrous curls,
    And to quaff many goblets of pure wine.
    And Antiphanes, in his Parasite, speaks of the cabbage as an economical food, in the following lines, where he says—
    And what these things are, you, my wife, know well;
    Garlic, and cheese, and cheese-cakes, dainty dishes
    Fit for a gentleman; no fish cured and salted,
    No joints of lamb well stuff'd with seasoning,
    No forced meat of all kinds of ingredients;
    No high made dishes, fit to kill a man;
    But they will boil some cabbage sweet, ye gods!
    And in the dish with it some pulse of pease.
    And Diphilus says, in his Insatiable Man,—
    All sorts of dainties now come round us here,
    All of their own accord. There's cabbage fresh,
    Well boil'd in oil; and many paunches, and
    Dishes of tender meat. No . . . . by Jove,
    Nor are they like my platters of bruised olives
    [p. 584] And Alcæus, in his Palæstra, says—
    And now she's roasted a large dish of cabbage.
    And Polyzelus, in his Birth of the Muses, names cabbages; and says—
    The close-grown cabbage with its lofty leaves.


    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.
    [p. 585] 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 [p. 586] 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 [p. 587] 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— [p. 588]
    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,
    2
    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 [p. 589] 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 δ᾽ 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).
    [p. 590] 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).
    [p. 591] 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—
    ῾ως ῾εφεσίη 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.3
    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)?
    [p. 592] 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.
    [p. 593] 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;
    [p. 594] 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— [p. 595]
    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
    [p. 596] 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
    [p. 597] 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
    [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— 4 [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 [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 [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 μέροπες5 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 μέροπες̣
    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—
    [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 οὐλόχυται̣"“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,σίπτυχ᾽, ὀβελούς6
    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 [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.


    And now we have had enough of cooks, my feasters; lest perhaps some one of them, pluming himself and quoting the Morose Man of Menander, may spout such lines as these—
    No one who does a cook an injury
    Ever escapes unpunish'd; for our art
    Is a divine and noble one.
    But I say to you, in the words of the tuneful Diphilus—
    I place before you now a lamb entire,
    Well skewer'd, and well cook'd and season'd;
    Some porkers in their skins, and roasted whole;
    And a fine goose stuff'd full, like Dureus.


    We must now speak of the goose. For as many geese were served up very excellently dressed, some one said, Look at the fat geese (σιτευτοὶ χῆνες). And Ulpian said, Where do you ever find the expression σιτευτὸς χήν̣ And Plutarch [p. 604] answered him:—Theopompus the Chian, in his History of Greece, and in the thirteenth book of his History of the Affairs and Exploits of Philip, says that the Egyptians sent to Agesilaus the Lacedæmonian, when he arrived in Egypt, some fatted (σιτευτοὺς) calves and geese (χῆνας). And Epigenes the comic poet says in his Bacchanalian Women—
    But if a person were to take me like
    A fatted goose (χῆνα σιτευτόν).
    And Archestratus, in that celebrated poem of his, says—
    And at the same time dress the young of one
    Fat goose (σιτευτοῦ χῆνος), and let him too be roasted thoroughly.
    But we have a right now, O Ulpian, to expect you to tell us, you who question everybody about everything, where this very costly dish of the livers of geese has been mentioned by any ancient writer. For Cratinus is a witness that they were acquainted with people whose business it was to feed geese, in his Dionysalexander, where he says—
    Geese-feeders, cow-herds . . . .

    And Homer uses the word χὴν in both the masculine and feminine gender; for he says—

    αἰετὸς ἀργὴν χῆνα φέρωνAn eagle carrying off a lazy goose.
    And again he says—
    And as he seized a fine home-fatten'd goose (χῆνα ἀτιταλλομένην).
    And in another place he says—
    I've twenty geese, fond of the lucid stream,
    Who in my house eat wheat, and fatten fast.
    And Eupolis mentions the livers of geese (and they are thought an excessive delicacy at Rome), in his Women Selling Garlands, where he says—
    If you have not a goose's liver or heart.


    There were also heads of pigs split in half and served up as a dish. And this dish is mentioned by Crobylus, in his Son falsely held to be Supposititious—
    There came in half a head of a young pig,
    A tender dish; and I did stick to it
    So close, by Jove, that I left none of it.
    After these things there was served up a haricot, called κρεωκάκκαβος. And this dish consists of meat chopped up with blood and fat, in a sauce richly sweetened: and Aristophanes the Grammarian says that it was the Achæans who [p. 605] gave this name to the dish. But Anticlides, in the seventy-eighth book of his Returns, says, “Once when there was a design on the part of the Erythreans to put the Chians to death by treachery at a banquet, one of them having learnt what was intended to be done, said–
    O Chians, wondrous is the insolence
    Which now has seized the Erythreans' hearts.
    Flee when you've done your pork-don't wait for beef.
    And Aristomenes, in his Jugglers, makes mention in the following terms of boiled meat, which he calls ἀναβραστὰ κρέα * * * * * They used also to eat the testicles of animals, which they called νέφροι.—Philippodes, in his Renovation, speaking of the gluttony of Gnathæna the courtesan, says—
    Then, after all these things, a slave came in,
    Bearing a large dish full of testicles;
    And all the rest of the girls made prudish faces,
    But fair Gnathæna, that undoer of men,
    Laughed, and said, "Capital things are testicles,
    I swear by Ceres." So she took a pair
    And ate them up: so that the guests around
    Fell back upon their chairs from laughing greatly.


    And when some one said that a cock dressed with a sauce of oil and vinegar (ὀξυλίπαρον) was a very good bird, Ulpian, who was fond of finding fault, and who was reclining on a couch by himself, eating little, but watching the rest of the guests, said—What is that ὀξυλίπαρον you speak of? unless indeed you give that name to the small figs called κόττανα and lepidium, which are both national food of mine. —But Timocles, he replied, the comic poet, in his play called The Ring, mentions ὀξυλίπαρον, saying—
    And sharks and rays and all the other fish,
    Which may be dressed in sauce of ὀξυλίπαρον.
    And Alexis has called some men ἀκρολίπαροι, fat on the surface, in his Wicked Woman, saying—
    Fat on the surface, but the rest of their body
    Is all as dry as wood.
    And once when a large fish was served up in sour pickle (ὀξάλμν), and somebody said that every fish (ὀψάριον) was best when dressed in this kind of pickle, Ulpian, picking out the small bones, and contracting his brows, said,—here do you find the word ὀξάλμη̣ And as to ὀψάριον, I am quite sure that that is a word used by no living author. However, [p. 606] at that time the guests all desired him to settle that as he pleased, and themselves preferred eating; while Cynulcus quoted these lines out of the Breezes of Metagenes—
    But, my friend, now let us dine,
    After that ask what you choose;
    For at present I'm so hungry,
    I can't recollect a thing.
    But Myrtilus in a pleasant manner declared that he subscribed to Ulpian's sentiments, so as to be willing to have nothing to eat, as long as he might talk; and said;—Cratinus, in his Ulysseses, has mentioned ὀξάλμη, in the following lines—
    And in return for this I now will take
    All you my brave companions; and will pound,
    And boil, and broil, and roast you thoroughly,
    In pickle, sour pickle (ὀξάλμη), garlic pickle,
    Soaking you thoroughly in each by turns.
    And that one which does seem most fairly roasted
    I'll do the honour to devour myself.
    And Aristophanes, in his Wasps,—
    Breathe on me, and then put me in hot pickle (ὀξάλμη).


    And of living people we ourselves use the word ὀψάριον. Plato does so too; speaking of fish in his Pisander, he says—
    A. Now eating . . . .
    B. What on earth? . . .
    A. Why, all there is;
    Fish (ὀψάριον).
    B. You were sick, and did they give you this?
    A. But I, the other day, eating a crab . . . .
    And Pherecrates, in his Deserters, says—
    Some one has served us up this dish of fish (τ᾽ ὀψάριον).
    And Philemon, in his Treasure, says—
    It is not right to cheat us in this way,
    Nor to have worthless fish (ὀψάρια).
    And Menander, in his Carthaginian, says—
    I offered Boreas much frankincense,
    And yet I did not catch one single fish (0᾿ψάριον),
    So I must now cook lentils for my supper.
    And in his Ephesian he says—
    Having some fish (ὀψάριον) for breakfast.
    And then he goes on to say—
    Some fishmonger
    Sold me'some tench for four drachmas a-piece.
    [p. 607] And Anaxilas, in his Hyacinthus the Pander, says—
    I now, O Dion, will buy you some fish (ὀψάριον).
    And a few lines afterwards he writes—
    Now dress, O boy, the fish (τοὐψάριον) for us.
    And in the Anagyrus of Aristophanes we read—
    Unless on all occasions you do soothe me
    With dainty dishes of fish (ὀψαρίου).
    Where, however, perhaps we must take ὀψάρια as used synony- mously with προσψωήματα, for made dishes in general. For Alexis, in his Woman Sitting up all Night, represents a cook as speaking in the following terms:—
    A. Do you prefer your high made dishes hot,
    Or cold, or something just between the two?
    B. Cold.
    A. Are you sure, my master? only think;
    The man has not one notion how to live?
    Am I to serve you everything up cold?
    B. By no means.
    A. Will you, then, have all things hot
    B. O Phœbus!
    A. Then, if neither hot nor cold,
    They surely must be just between the two;
    And none of all my fellows can do this.
    B. I dare say not, nor many other things
    Which you can do.
    A. I'll tell you now, for I
    Give all the guests an opportunity
    To practise a wise mixture of their food.
    Have you not, I adjure you by the gods,
    Just slain a kid?
    B. Don't cut me, cut the meat:—
    Boys, bring the kid.
    A. Is there a kitchen near?
    B. There is.
    A. And has it got a chimney too?
    For this you do not say.
    B. It has a chimney.
    A. But if it smokes, it will be worse than none.
    B. The man will kill me with his endless questions.


    These passages I have quoted to you on the part of us who are still alive, my well-fed friend Ulpian. For you too, as it seems to me, agree so far with Alexis as to eat no living animals. And Alexis, in his Attic Woman, speaks in the following manner—
    The man who first did say that no philosopher
    Would eat of living things, was truly wise.
    [p. 608] For I am just come home, and have not bought
    A living thing of any kind. I've bought
    Some fish, but they were dead, and splendid fish.
    Then here are joints of well-fed household lamb,
    But he was killed last week. What else have I?
    Oh, here's some roasted liver. If there be
    A man who can this liver prove to have
    Or soul or voice or animation,
    I will confess I've err'd and broken the law.
    So now after all this let us have some supper. For just see, while I am talking to you, all the pheasants have flown by me, and are gone out of reach, disregarding me, because of your unseasonable chattering. But I should like you to tell me, my master Myrtilus, said Ulpian, where you got that word ὀλβιογάστωρ, and also whether any ancient author mentions the pheasant, and I—
    Rising at early morn to sail . . . .
    not through the Hellespont, but into the market-place, will buy a pheasant which you and I may eat together.


    And Myrtilus said,—On this condition I will tell you. Amphis uses the word ὀλβιογάστωρ in his Gynæcomania, where he speaks as follows:—
    Eurybates, you hunter of rich smells,
    You surely are the most well-fed (ὀλβιογάστωρ) of men.
    And as for the bird called the pheasant, that delicious writer Aristophanes mentions it in his play called The Birds. There are in that play two old Athenians, who, from their love of idleness, are looking for a city where there is nothing to do, that they may live there; and so they take a fancy to the life among the birds. And accordingly they come to the birds: and when all of a sudden some wild bird flies towards them, they, alarmed at the sight, comfort one another, and say a great many things, and among them they say this—
    A. What now is this bird which we here behold?
    Will you not say?
    B. I think it is a pheasant.
    And I also understand the passage in the Clouds to refer to birds, and not to horses as many people take it—
    The Phasian flocks, bred by Leogoras.
    For it is very possible that Leogoras may have bred horses and pheasants too. And Leogoras is also turned into ridicule as a gourmand by Plato in his Very Miserable Man. [p. 609] And Mnesimachus, in his play called Philip, (and Mnesi- machus is one of the poets of the Middle Comedy,) says—
    And as the proverb runs, it is more rare
    Than milk of birds, or than a splendid pheasant
    Artistically pluck'd.
    And Theophrastus the Eresian, a pupil of Aristotle, mentions them in the third book of his Treatise on Animals, speaking nearly as follows—“There is also some such difference as this in birds. For the heavy birds which are not so well suited for flying such as the woodcock, the partridge, the cock, and the pheasant, are very well adapted for walking and have thick plumage.” And Aristotle, in the eighth book of his History of Animals, writes thus:—“Now of birds there are some which are fond of dusting themselves, and some which are fond of washing, and some which neither dust nor wash themselves. And those which are not good flyers, but which keep chiefly on the ground, are fond of dusting themselves; such as the common fowl, the partridge, the woodcock, the pheasant, the lark.” Speusippus also mentions them in the second book of his treatise on Things Resembling one another. And the name these men give the pheasant is φασιανὸς, not φασιανικός.


    But Agatharchides of Cnidos, in the thirty-fourth book of his History of the Affairs of Europe, speaking of the river Phasis, writes as follows:—“But the great multitude of the birds called pheasants (φασιανοι) come for the sake of food to the places where the mouths of the rivers fall into the sea.” And Callixenus the Rhodian, in the fourth book of his Account of Alexandria, describing a procession which took place in Alexandria, when Ptolemy who was surnamed Philadelphus was king, mentions, as a very extraordinary circumstance connected with these birds—“Then there were brought on in cases parrots, and peacocks, and guinea-fowl, and pheasants, and an immense number of Aethiopian birds.” And Artemidorus the pupil of Aristophanes, in his book entitled The Glossary of Cookery, and Pamphilus the Alexandrian, in his treatise on Names and Words, represents Epænetus as saying in his Cookery Book that the pheasant is also called τατύρας. But Ptolemy Euergetes, in the second book of his Commentaries, says that the pheasant is called τατύρας. Now this is what I am able to tell you about the pheasant, which I have seen [p. 610] brought up on your account, as if we all had fevers. But you, if you do not, according to your agreement, give me tomorrow what you have covenanted to, I do not say that I will prosecute you in the public courts for deceit, but I will send you away to live near the Phasi, as Polemon, the Describer of the World, wished to drown Ister the pupil of Callimachus, the historian, in the river of the same name.


    The next thing to be mentioned is the woodcock. Aristophanes, in his Storks, says—
    The woodcock, most delicious meat to boil,
    Fit dish for conqueror's triumphal feast.
    And Alexander the Myndian says that it is a bird a little larger than a partridge, and spotted all over the back, about the colour of earthenware, but a little more ruddy. And it is caught by the hunters, because it is a heavy flyer in consequence of the shortness of its wings; and it is a bird fond of dusting itself, and very prolific, and it feeds on seeds.7 But Socrates, in his treatise on Boundaries, and Places, and Fire, and Stones, says,—“The woodcock having been transported into Egypt from Lydia, and having been let loose in the woods there, for some time uttered a sound like a quail: but after the river got low, and a great scarcity arose, in which a great many of the natives of the country died, they never ceased uttering, as they do to this day, in a voice more distinct than that of the very clearest speaking children, ' Threefold evils to the wicked doers.' But when they are caught it is not only impossible to tame them, but they even cease to utter any sound at all; but if they are let go again, they recover their voice.” And Hipponax mentions them thus—
    Not eating woodcocks or the timid hare.
    And Aristophanes, in his Birds, mentions them also. And in his Acharnians he speaks of them as being very common in the district about Megara. And the Attic writers circumflex the noun in a manner quite contrary to analogy. For words of more than two syllables ending in ας, when the final α is long, are barytones; as for instance, ἀκάμας, σακάδας, ἀδάμας. And we ought also to read the plural ἀττάγαι, and not ἀτταγῆνες.

    [p. 611]


    There is also a bird called the porphyrion. And it is well known that this bird is mentioned by Aristophanes. And Polemo, in the fifth book of his treatise addressed to Antigonus and Adæus, says that the bird called the porphyrion, when it is kept in a house, watches those women who have husbands very closely; and has such instantaeous perception of any one who commits adultery, that, when it perceives it, it gives notice of it to the master of the house, cutting its own existence short by hanging itself. And, says he, it never partakes of food before it has walked all round the place seeking for some spot which may suit it; land then it dusts itself there, and washes itself, and after that it feeds. And Aristotle says that it has cloven feet, and that it is of a dark blue colour, with long legs, with a beak of a scarlet colour beginning at its very head; of about the size of a cock of the common poultry-breed; and it has a small Gullet, on which account it seizes its food with its foot, and divides it into diminutive morsels. And it drinks greedily and it has five toes on each foot, of which the middle one is the largest. But Alexander the Myndian, in the second book of his treatise on the History of Birds, says that the bird comes originally from Libya, and that it is sacred to the gods of Libya.

    There is also another bird called the porphyris. Callimachus, in his treatise on Birds, says that the porphyris is different from the porphyrion, and enumerates the two birds separately. And he says that the porphyrion takes its food while hiding itself in darkness, so that no one may see it; for it hates those who come near its food. And Aristophanes also mentions the porphyris in his drama entitled The Birds. And Ibycus speaks of some birds which he calls lathipor-phyrides, and says; There are some variegated ducks with purple necks which frequent the highest branches of the trees; and the birds called lathiporphyrides with variegated necks, and king-fishers with extended wings." And in another place he says—

    You're always bearing me aloft, my mind,
    Like some bold porphyris, with out-stretch'd wings.


    The next bird is the partridge. A great many authors mention this bird, as also does Aristophanes. And some of [p. 612] them in the oblique cases shorten the penultima of the noun; as Archilochus does where he writes—
    πτώσσουσαν ὥς τε πέρδῖκα,
    in the same way as ὄρτῦγα and χοίνῖκα have the penultima short. But it is usually made long by the Attic writers. Sophocles, in his Camici, says—
    A man arrived, who in the famous hills
    Of Attica is a namesake of the partridge (πέρδι:κος).
    And Pherecrates, or whoever it was who wrote the Chiron, says—
    He goes against his will, like any partridge (πέρδι:κος τρόπον).
    And Phrynichus, in his Tragedians, says—
    And Cleombrotus the son of Perdix (πέρδι:κος),
    (for the bird is sometimes cited as a model of lasciviousness).

    Nicophon, in his Handicraftsmen, says—

    The hepseti, and all those partridges (περδι:κας).
    But Epicharmus, in his Revellers, uses the word with the penultima short, where he says—
    They brought in cuttle-fish, who swim the deep,
    And partridges (πέρδικας) who fly in lofty air.
    And Aristotle gives the following account of the bird— "The partridge is a land bird, with cloven feet; and he lives fifteen years: but the female lives even more. For among all birds the female lives longer than the male. It lays eggs, and hatches its young itself, as the common hen does. And when it is aware that it is being hunted, it comes away from its nest, and rolls near the legs of the huntsman, giving him a hope that he may catch it; and so it deceives him, until its young have flown away, and then it flies away itself also.


    “But it is a very ill-disposed and cunning animal; and moreover it is much devoted to amatory enjoyments; on which account it breaks the eggs of its hen, that it may not be deprived of her while she is hatching them; and therefore the hen, knowing this, runs away and hides her eggs.” And Callimachus gives the same account in his treatise on Birds. And the single birds fight with one another, and the one which is defeated becomes the mate of the conqueror. But Aristotle says that they all in turn use the bird which has been defeated as their mate, and that the tame birds also [p. 613] take the wild ones for their mates. And the bird which is defeated by the other patiently allows itself to be treated by him as his mate. And this happens at a particular time of the year, as is also stated by Alexander the Myndian. And they lay their eggs on the ground, both the cocks and the hens making themselves separate nests. And the leader of the wild birds attacks the decoy partridge, and when he is taken another comes forward to fight the decoy bird; and this is done whenever the bird used for the decoy is a cock bird; but when a hen is employed for the purpose, then she crows till the leader of the wild birds meets her, and the rest of the wild birds assemble and drive him away from the hen, because he is attending to her and not to them; on which account sometimes he advances without making any noise, in order that no other bird may hear his voice and come to fight him. And sometimes the hen also checks the crowing of the cock as he comes up:8 and very often when she is sitting on her nest she gets off it on perceiving the cock approaching the decoy bird, and remains there to receive his embraces in order to draw him away from the decoy bird. And so very eager to propagate their species are both quails and partridges, that they fall into the hands of the hunters on that account, sitting on the tiles. They say, too, that when hen partridges are taken out to hunt, even when they see or smell a cock standing or flying down the wind, become pregnant, and some say that they immediately begin to lay eggs. And about breeding time they fly about with their mouths open, putting out their tongues, both hens and cocks. And Clearchus says, in his treatise on Panic Fear,—“Sparrows and partridges, and also the common barn-door fowl and the quail, are eager to propagate their species, not only the moment that they see the hen, but even as soon as hey hear her voice. And the cause of this is the excessive impression made on their minds by amatory pleasures and proximity. And you may see more easily all that takes place with respect to the propagation of their species if you put a looking-glass opposite to them. For they run forward, being deceived by the appearance, and behave as if they saw a hen, and so are caught. Only the common poultry cock does not [p. 614] do so. But the perception of the reflected image operates on them only so far as to make them wish to fight.” And this is the statement of Clearchus.


    Partridges are by some people called κάκκαβαι, as, for instance, by Alcman, who speaks as follows—
    Alcman, too, began the strain;
    And he introduced into the language
    The compound name of κακκαβίδες:
    showing plainly enough that he had learnt to compound the word from the noise made by partridges. On which account also Chamæleon of Pontus said that the discovery of music was originally made by the ancients from the birds singing in desert places; by imitation of whom they arrived at the art of music; but it is not all partridges who make the noise called κακκαβίζειν, or cackling. At all events, Theophrastus, in his treatise on the Different Noises made by Animals of the same Species, says—“The partridges in Attica, near Corydallus, on the side towards the city, cackle; but those on the other side twitter.” And Basilis, in the second book of his History of India, says—“The diminutive men in those countries which fight with cranes are often carried by partridges.” And Menecles, in the first book of his Collectanea, says—“The pygmies fight both with partridges and with cranes.” But there is a different kind of partridge found in Italy, of a dark colour on its wings, and smaller in size, with a beak inclining in the smallest possible degree to a red colour. But the partridges about Cirrha are not at all nice to eat as to their flesh, on account of the nature of their food. But the partridges in Bœotia either do not cross into Attica at all, or else, whenever they do, they are easily recognised by their voices, as we have previously mentioned. But the partridges which are found in Paphlagonia, Theophrastus says, have two hearts. But those in the island of Sciathos feed on cockles. And sometimes they have as many as fifteen or sixteen young at a time; and they can only fly short distances, as Xenophon tells us in the first book of his Anabasis, where he writes,— “But if any one rouses the bustard suddenly it is easy to catch him; for they can only fly a short distance, like partridges, and they very soon tire; but their flesh is very delicious.”


    And Plutarch says that Xenophon is quite correct [p. 615] about the bustard; for that great numbers of these birds are brought to Alexandria from the adjacent parts o Libya; being hunted and caught in this manner. The animal is a very imitative one, the bustard; being especially fond of imitating whatever it sees a man do; and accordingly it does whatever it sees the hunters do. And they, standing opposite to it, anoint themselves under the eyes with some unguent, having prepared other different unguents calculated to close up the eyes and eyelids; and these other unguents they place in shallow dishes near the bustards. And so the bustards, seeing the men anoint themselves under the eyes, do the same thing also themselves, taking the unguents out of these dishes; and by this means they are quickly caught. And Aristotle writes the following account of them:—“It is a migratory bird, with cloven feet, and three toes; of about the size of a large cock, of the colour of a quail, with a long head, a sharp beak, a thin neck, large eyes, a bony tongue, and it has no crop.” But Alexander the Myndian says that it is also called λαγωδίας. And he says, also, that it ruminates, and that it is very fond of the horse; and that if any one puts on a horse's skin he can catch as many as he pleases; for they come up to him then of their own accord. And presently, in another passage, Aristotle tells us, “The bustard is something like the owl, but it is not a bird which flies by night; and it has large feathers about its ears, on which account it is called ὦτος, from ὦτα; and it is about the size of a pigeon, and a great imitator of mankind; and accordingly it is caught by dancing opposite to them.'” And it is in shape something like a man, and it is an imitator of whatever man does. On which account the comic poets call those people who are easily taken in by any one whom they chance to meet, a bustard. Accordingly, in hunting them, the man who is cleverest at it, stands opposite to them and dances; and the birds, looking at the man dancing, move like puppets pulled by strings; and then some one comes behind them, and, without being perceived, seizes on them while they are wholly occupied with the delight they derive from the imitation.


    They say, also, that the screech-owl does the same thing: for it is said that they also are caught by dancing. And Homer mentions them. And there is a kind of dance, [p. 616] which is called σκὼψ, or the screech-owl, from them; deriving its name from the variety of motion displayed by this animal. And the screech-owls also delight in imitation, and it is from their name that we say that those men σκώπτουσι, who keep looking at the person whom they wish to turn into ridicule, and mock all his conduct by an exact imitation, copying the conduct of those birds. But all the birds whose tongues are properly formed, and who are capable of uttering articulate sounds, imitate the voices of men and of other birds; as the parrot and the jay. The screech-owl, as Alexander the Myndian says, is smaller than the common owl, and he has whitish spots on a leaden-coloured plumage; and he puts out two tufts of feathers from his eyebrows on each temple. Now Callimachus says that there are two kinds of screech-owls, and that one kind does screech, and the other does not—on which account one kind is called σκῶπες, and the other kind is called ἀείσκωπες, and these last are of a grey colour.

    But Alexander the Myndian says that the name is written in Homer, κῶπες without the ς, and that that was the name which Aristotle gave them; and that they are constantly seen, and that they are not eatable; but that those which are only seen about the end of autumn for a day or two are eatable. And they differ from the ἀείσκωπες in their speed, and they are something like the turtle-dove and the pigeon in pace. And Speusippus, in the second book of his treatise on Things Resembling one another, also calls them κῶπες without the ς. But Epicharmus writes σκῶπας, epopses and owls. And Metrodorus, in his treatise on Custom and Habituation, says, that the screech-owl is caught by dancing opposite to it.


    But since, when we were talking of partridges, we mentioned that they were exceedingly amorous birds, we ought also to add, that the cock of the common poultry fowl is a very amorous bird too; at all events Aristotle says, that when cocks are kept in the temples as being dedicated to the Gods, the cocks who were there before treat any new comer as a hen until another is dedicated in a similar manner. And if none are dedicated, then they fight together, and the one which has defeated the other works his will on the one which he has defeated. It is related, also, that a cock, whenever he goes in at any door whatever, always stoops his crest, and that [p. 617] one cock never yields to another without a battle; but Theophrastus says, that the wild cocks are still more amorous than the tame ones. He says, also, that the cocks are most inclined to pursue the hens the moment they leave their perch in the morning, but the hens prefer it as the day advances.

    Sparrows, also, are very amorous birds; on which account Terpsicles says, that those who eat sparrows are rendered exceedingly prone to amorous indulgences; and perhaps it is from such an idea that Sappho represents Venus as being drawn by sparrows yoked in her chariot; for they are very amorous birds, and very prolific. The sparrow has about eight young ones at one hatching, according to the statement of Aristotle. And Alexander the Myndian says that there are two kinds of sparrows, the one a tame species, and the other a wild one; and he adds that the hen-sparrow is weaker in other respects, and also that their beaks are of a more horny colour, and that their faces are not very white, nor very black; but Aristotle says that the cock-sparrow never appears in the winter, but that the hen-sparrows remain, drawing his conclusions as to what he thinks probable from their colour; for their colour changes, as the colour of blackbirds and of coots does, who get whiter at certain seasons. But the people of Elis call sparrows δείρηται, as Nicander the Colophonian tells us in the third book of his treatise on Different Dialects.


    We must also speak of the quail; they are called ὄρτυγες. And here the rearises a general question about words ending in υξ, why the words with this termination do not all have the same letter as the characteristic of the genitive case. I allude to ὄρτυξ and ὄνυξ. For the masculine simple nouns ending in ξ when the vowel υ precedes ξ, and when the last syllable begins with any one of the immutable consonants or those which are characteristic of the first9 conjugation of barytone verbs, make the genitive with κ; as κῆρυξ κήρυκος, πέλυξ πέλυκος, ῎ερυξ ἔρυκος, βέβρυξ, βέβρυκος; but those which have not this characteristic make the genitive with a γ, as ὄρτυξ ὄρτυγος, κόκκυξ κόκκυγος, ὄρυξ ὄρυγος; and there is one word with a peculiar inflexion, ὄνυξ ὄνυχος; and as a general rule, in the nominative case plural, they follow the genitive case singular in having the same characteristic of the [p. 618] last syllable. And the case is the same if the last syllable does not begin with a consonant at all.

    But with respect to the quail Aristotle says, “The quail is a migratory bird, with cloven feet, and he does not make a nest, but lies in the dust; and he covers over his hole with sticks for fear of hawks; and then the hen lays her eggs in the hole.” But Alexander the Myndian says, in the second book of his treatise on Animals, “The female quail has a thin neck, not having under its chin the same black feathers which the male has. And when it is dissected it is found not to have a large crop, but it has a large heart with three lobes; it has also its liver and its gall-bladder united in its intestines, but it has but a small spleen, and one which is not easily perceived; and its testicles are under its liver, like those of the common fowl.” And concerning their origin, Phanodemus, in the second book of his History of Attica, says:— “When Erysichthon saw the island of Delos, which was by the ancients called Ortygia, because of the numerous flocks of quails which came over the sea and settled in that island as one which afforded them good shelter . . .” And Eudoxus the Cnidian, in the first book of his Description of the Circuit of the Earth, says that the Phœnicians sacrifice quails to Hercules, because Hercules, the son of Asteria and Jupiter, when on his way towards Libya, was slain by Typhon and restored to life by Iolaus, who brought a quail to him and put it to his nose, and the smell revived him. For when he was alive he was, says Eudoxus, very partial to that bird.


    But Eupolis uses the word in its diminutive form, and in his play called Cities, calls them ὀρτύγια, speaking as follows:—
    A. Tell me now, have you ever bred any ὄρτυγες̣
    B. I've bred some small ὀρτύγια. What of that
    And Antiphanes, in his play called The Countryman, speaks as follows, using also the form ὀρτύγιον:—
    For what now could a man like you perform,
    Having the soul of a quail (ὀρτυγίου)?
    It is an odd expression that Pratinas uses, who in his Dymænæ, or the Caryatides, calls the quail a bird with a sweet voice, unless indeed quails have voices in the Phliasian or Lacedæmonian country as partridges have; and perhaps it is from this, also, that the bird called σίαλις has its name, as [p. 619] Didymus says. For nearly all birds derive their tames from the sounds which they make.

    There is also a bird called the ὀρτυγομήτρα (which is mentioned by Crates in his Chirons, where he says,

    The ὀρτυγομήτρα came from Ithaca.)
    And Alexander the Myndian also mentions it, and says that in size it is nearly equal to a turtle-dove; that it has long legs, a slender body, and is very timid. And with respect to the hunting for quails, Clearchus the Solensian mentions some very singular circumstances, in his book which is entitled “A Treatise on those things which have been asserted on Mathematical Principles in Plato's Polity,” where he writes as follows—“Quails, about breeding time, if any one puts a looking-glass opposite to them, and a noose in front of it, run towards the bird which is seen in the looking-glass; and so fall into the noose.” And about the birds called jackdaws he makes a similar statement, saying—“And a very similar thing happens to the jackdaws, on account of their naturally affectionate disposition towards each other. For they are a most exceedingly cunning bird; nevertheless when a bowl full of oil is placed near them, they stand on the edge of the bowl, and look down, and then rush down towards the bird which appears visible in the liquid. In consequence of which, when they are soaked through with the oil, their wings stick together and cause them to be easily captured.” And the Attic writers make the middle syllable of the oblique cases of ὄρτυξ long, like δοίδῦκα, and κήρῦκα; as Demetrius Ixion tells us, in his treatise on the Dialect of the Alexandrians. But Aristophanes, in his Peace, has used the word with the penultima short for the sake of the metre, writing—
    The tame domestic quails (ὄρτῦγες οἰκογενεῖς).
    There is also a bird called χέννιον, which is a small kind of quail, which is mentioned by Cleomenes, in his letter to Alexander, where he expresses himself in the following manner— “Ten thousand preserved coots, and five thousand of the kind of thrush called tylas, and ten thousand preserved χέννια.” And Hipparchus, in his Egyptian Iliad, says—
    I cannot fancy the Egyptian life,
    Plucking the chennia, which they salt and eat.


    And even swans in great plenty were not wanting [p. 620] to our banquets. And Aristotle speaks in the following manner of this bird—“The swan is a prolific bird, and a quarrelsome one. And, indeed, they are so fond of fighting that they often kill one another. And the swan will fight even the eagle; though he does not begin the battle himself. And they are tuneful birds, especially towards the time of their death. And they also cross the seas singing. And they are web-footed, and feed on herbage.” But Alexander the Myndian says, that though he followed a great many swans when they were dying, he never heard one sing. And Hegesianax of Alexandria, who arranged the book of Cephalion, called the History of Troy, says that the Cycnus who fought with Achilles in single combat, was fed in Leucophrys by the bird of the same name, that is, by the swan. But Boius, or Boio, which Philochorus says was his proper name, in his book on the Origin of Birds, says that Cycnus was turned into a bird by Mars, and that when he came to the river Sybaris he was cooped with a crane. And he says, also, that the swan lines his nest with that particular grass which is called lygæa.

    And concerning the crane (γέρανος), Boius says that there was among the Pygmies a very well known woman whose name was Gerana. And she, being honoured as a god by her fellow-countrymen, thought lightly of those who were really gods, and especially of Juno and Diana. And accordingly Juno, being indignant, metamorphosed her into an unsightly bird, and made her hostile to and hated by the Pygmies who had been used to honour her. And he says, also, that of her and Nicodamas was born the land tortoise. And as a general rule, the man who composed all these fables asserts that all the birds were formerly men.


    The next bird to be mentioned is the pigeon. Aristotle says, that there is but one genus of the pigeon, but five subordinate species; writing thus—“The pigeon, the œnas, the phaps, the dove, and the turtle-dove.” But in the fifth book of his treatise on the Parts of Animals, he makes no mention of the phaps, though Aeschylus, in his tragedy called Proteus, does mention that bird in the following line—
    Feeding the wretched miserable phaps,
    Entangled as to its poor broken sides
    Within the winnowing spokes.
    [p. 621] And in his Philoctetes he uses the word in the genitive case plural, φαβῶν.“The œonas, then,” says Aristotle, “is something larger than the pigeon, and it has a puce-coloured plumage; but the phaps is something between the pigeon and the œnas. And the species called phassa is about as large as the common cock, but of the colour of ashes; and the turtledove is less than all the other species, and is o a cinder-colour. And this last is only seen in the summer, and during the winter it keeps in its hole. Now, the phaps and the common pigeon are always to be seen, but the œnas is only visible in the autumn. And the species called the phassa is said to be longer lived than any of the others; for it lives thirty or forty years. And the cock birds never leave the hens to the day of their death, nor do the hens ever desert the cock: but when one dies the other remains solitary: and crows, and ravens, and jackdaws all do the same thing. And in every kind of the genus pigeon, both male and female sit on the eggs in turn; and when the chickens are hatched, the cock bird spits upon them to prevent their being fascinated. And the hen lays two eggs, the first of which produces a cock and the second a hen. And they lay at every season of the year; so that they lay ten or eleven times a year; and in Egypt they lay twelve times; for the hen conceives again the very next day to that in which it lays.” And further on, in the same book, Aristotle says that the kind called περιστερὰ differs from the πελειὰς, and the πελειὰς is the least of the two. And the πελειὰς is easily tamed; but the περιστερὰ is black, and small, and has red rough legs; on which account no one keeps them. But he mentions a peculiarity of the species called περιστερὰ, that they kiss one another when courting, and that if the males neglect this, the hens do not admit their embraces. However, old doves do not go through this formality; but omit the kisses and still succeed in their suit, but the younger ones always kiss before they proceed to action. And the hens, too, make love to one another, when there is no cock at hand, kissing one another beforehand. But still, as there are no real results, the eggs which they lay never produce chickens. The Dorians, however, consider the πελειὰς and the περιστερὰ as identical; and Sophron uses the two words as synonymous in his Female Actresses. But Callimachus, in his treatise on Birds, speaks of the pyrallis, the [p. 622] dove, the wood-pigeon, and the turtle-dove, as all different from one another.


    But Alexander the Myndian says, that the pigeon never lifts up his head when it drinks, as the turtle-dove does; and that it never utters any sound in the winter except when it is very fine weather. It is said, also, that when the species called œnas has eaten the seed of the mistletoe, and then leaves its droppings on any tree, mistletoe after that grows upon that tree. But Daimachus, in his history of India, says that pigeons of an apple-green colour are found in India. And Charon of Lampsacus, in his history of Persia, speaking of Mardonius, and of the losses which the Persian army sustained Off Mount Athos, writes as follows—“And that was the first time that white pigeons were ever seen by the Greeks; as they had never existed in that country.” And Aristotle says, that the pigeons, when their young are born, eat a lot of earth impregnated with salt, and then open the mouths of their young and spit the salt into them; and by this means prepare them to swallow and digest their food. And at Eryx in Sicily, there is a certain time which the Sicilians call The Departure, at which time they say that the Goddess is departing into Africa: and at this time all the pigeons about the place disappear, as if they had accompanied the Goddess on her journey. And after nine days, when the festival called καταγώγια, that is to say The Return, is celebrated, after one pigeon has first arrived, flying across the sea like an avant-courier, and has flown into the temple, the rest follow speedily. And on this, all the inhabitants around, who are comfortably off, feast; and the rest clap their hands for joy. And at that time the whole place smells of butter, which they use as a sort of token of the return of the Goddess. But Autocrates, in his history of Achaia, says that Jupiter once changed his form into that of a pigeon, when he was in love with a maiden in Aegium, whose name was Phthia. But the Attic writers use the word also in the masculine gender, περιστερός. Alexis, in his People Running together, says—
    For I am the white pigeon (περιστερὸς) of Venus;
    But as for Bacchus, he knows nothing more
    Than how to get well drunk; and nothing cares
    Whether 'tis new wine that he drinks or old.
    [p. 623] But in his play of the Rhodian, or the Woman Caressing, he uses the word in the feminine gender; and says in that passage that the Sicilian pigeons are superior to all others—
    Breeding within some pigeons from Sicily,
    The fairest shaped of all their species.
    And Pherecrates, in his Painters, says—
    Send off a pigeon (περιστερὸν) as a messenger.
    And in his Petale he uses the diminutive form περιστέριον, where he says,—
    But now, my pigeon, fly thou like Callisthenes,
    And bear me to Cythera and to Cyprus.
    And Nicander, in the second book of his Georgics, mentions the Sicilian doves and pigeons, and says,—
    And do you in your hall preserve a flock
    Of fruitful doves from Sicily or Dracontium,
    For it is said that neither kites nor hawks
    Incline to hurt those choice and sacred birds.


    We must also mention ducks. The male of these birds, as Alexander the Myndian says, is larger than the female, and has a more richly coloured plumage: but the bird which is called the glaucion, from the colour of its. eyes, is a little smaller than the duck. And of the species called boscades the male is marked all over with lines, and he also is less than the duck; and the males have short beaks, too small to be in fair proportion to their size: but the small diver is the least of all aquatic birds, being of a dirty black plumage, and it has a sharp beak, turning upwards towards the eyes, and it goes a great deal under water. There is also another species of the boscades, larger than the duck, but smaller than the chenalopex: but the species which are called phascades are a little larger than the small divers, but in all other respects they resemble the ducks. And the kind called uria are not much smaller than the duck, but as to its plumage it is of a dirty earthenware colour, and it has a log and narrow beak: but the coot, which also has a narrow beak, is of a rounder shape, and is of an ash colour about the stomach, and rather blacker on the back. But Aristophanes in his Acharnians, in the following lines, mentions the dusk and the diver, from whose names (νῆττα) and κολυμβὰς) we get the verbs νήχομαι, to swim, and κολυμβάω, to dive, with a great many other water birds— [p. 624]
    Ducks too, and jackdaws, woodcocks too, and coots,
    And wrens, and divers.
    And Callimachus also mentions them in his treatise on Birds.


    We often also had put before us the dish called parastatæ which is mentioned by Epænetus in his Cookery Book, and by Semaristus in the third and fourth books of his treatise on Synonymes. And it is testicles which are called by this name. But when some meat was served up with a very fragrant sauce, and when some one said,—Give me a plate of that suffocated meat, that Dædalus of names, Ulpian, said— I myself shall be suffocated if you do not tell me where you found any mention of meat of that kind; for I will not name them so before I know. And he said, Strattis, in his Macedonians or Cinesias, has said—
    Take care, and often have some suffocated meat.
    And Eubulus, in his Catacollomenos, says—
    And platters heap'd with quantities of meat
    Suffocated in the Sicilian fashion.
    And Aristophanes, in his Wasps, has said—
    Some suffocated meat in a platter.
    And Cratinus, in his Delian Women, says—
    And therefore do you take some meat and pound it,
    Having first neatly suffocated it.
    And Antiphanes, in his Countryman, says—
    And first of all
    I bring you the much-wish'd-for barley-cake,
    Which the all-genial mother Ceres gives
    A joyfull gift to mortals; and besides,
    Some tender limbs of suffocated goats
    Set round with herbs, a young and tender meat.
    B. How say you?
    A. I am going through a tragedy
    Of the divinest Sophocles.


    And when some sucking-pigs were carried round, and the guests made an inquiry respecting them, whether they were mentioned by any ancient author, some one said—Phe- recrates, in his Slave turned Tutor, says—
    I stole some sucking-pigs not fully grown.
    And in his Deserters be says—
    Are you not going to kill a sucking-pig?
    [p. 625] And Alcæus, in his Palæstra, says—
    For here he is himself, and if I grunt
    One atom more than any sucking-pig . . .
    And Herodotus, in his first book, says that in Babylon there is a golden altar, on which it is not lawful to sacrifice anything but sucking-pigs. Antiphanes says in his Philetærus—
    There's here a pretty little cromaciscus
    Not yet wean'd, you see.
    And Heniochus, in his Polyeuctus, says—
    The ox was brazen, long since past all boiling,
    But he perhaps had taken a sucking-pig,
    And slaughter'd that.
    And Anacreon says—
    Like a young sucking kid, which when it leaves
    Its mother in the wood, trembles with fear.
    And Crates, in his Neighbours, says—
    For now we constantly have feasts of lovers,
    As long as we have store of lambs and pigs
    Not taken from their dams.
    And Simonides represents Danae as speaking thus over Perseus—
    O my dear child, what mis'ry tears my soul!
    But you lie sleeping,
    You slumber with your unwean'd heart.
    And in another place he says of Archemorus—
    Alas the wreath! They wept the unwean'd child,
    Breathing out his sweet soul in bitter pangs.
    And Clearchus, in his Lives, says that Phalaris the tyrant had arrived at such a pitch of cruelty, that he used to feast on sucking children. And there is a verb θῆσθαι, which means to suck milk, (Homer says—
    Hector is mortal, and has suck'd the breast;)
    because the mother's breast is put into the mouth of the infant. And that is the derivation of the word τίτσθος, breast, from τίθημι, to place, because the breasts are thus placed in the children's mouths.
    After she'd lull'd to sleep the new-born kids,
    As yet unweaned from their mother's breast.


    And when some antelopes were brought round, Pala- medes of Elea, the collector of words, said—It is not bad meat that of the antelopes (δόρκωνες). And Myrtilus said to him—The word is only δορκύδες, not δόρκωνες. Xenophon, [p. 626] in the first book of his Anabasis, says, “And there were in that part bustards and δορκάδες.


    The next thing to be mentioned is the peacock. And that this is a rare bird is shown by what Antiphanes says in his Soldier, or Tychon, where his words are—
    And then some man brought in one single pair
    Of peacocks to the city; 'twas a sight
    Wondrous to see; now they're as thick as quails.
    And Eubulus says in his Phœnix—
    The peacock is admired for his rarity.
    “The peacock,” says Aristotle, “is cloven-footed, and feeds on herbage; it begins to breed when it is three years old, at which age it also gets the rich and varied colours of its plumage; and it sits on its eggs about thirty days, and once a-year it lays twelve eggs, and it lays these not all at once, but at intervals, laying every third day. But the first year of a hen's laying she does not lay more than eight eggs; and she sometimes lays wind eggs like the common hen, but never more than two; and she sits upon her eggs and hatches them very much in the same way as the common hen does.” And Eupolis, in his Deserters from the Army, speaks of the peacock in the following terms—
    Lest I should keep in Pluto's realm,
    A peacock such as this, who wakes the sleepers.
    And there is a speech extant, by Antiphanes the orator, which is entitled, On Peacocks. And in that speech there is not one express mention of the name peacock, but he repeatedly speaks of them in it as birds of variegated plumage, saying— “That Demus, the son of Pyrilampes, breeds these birds, and that out of a desire to see these birds, a great many people come from Lacedæmon and from Thessaly, and show great anxiety to get some of the eggs.” And with respect to their appearance he writes thus—“If any one wishes to remove these birds into a city, they will fly away and depart; and if he cuts their wings he takes away their beauty. For their wings are their beauty, and not their body.” And that people used to be very anxious to see them he tells us subsequently in the same book, where he says; “But at the time of the festival of the new moon, any one who likes is admitted to see them, but on other days if any one comes and wishes to see them he is never allowed to do so; and this is not a [p. 627] custom of yesterday, or a recent practice, but one which has subsisted for more than thirty years.”


    “But the Athenians call the word ταὧς,” as Tryphon tells us, “circumflexing and aspirating the last syllable. And they read it spelt in this way in the Deserters from the Army of Eupolis, in the passage which has been already quoted, and in the Birds of Aristophanes—
    Are you then Tereus? are you a bird or a peacock (ταὧς)?
    And in another passage he writes—
    A bird then; what kind? is it not a peacock (ταὧς)?
    But in the dative they say ταὧνι, as Aristophanes does in the same play. But it is quite impossible in the Attic or Ionic dialects that, in nouns which have more than one syllable, the last syllable beginning with a vowel should be aspirated; for it is quite inevitable that it should be pronounced with a lene breathing, as νεὢς, λεὢς, τυνδάρεὠς, μενέλεὠς, λειπόνεὠς, εὔνεὠς, νείλεὠς, πρᾶὀς, ὑίὀς, κεῖὀς, χῖὀς, δῖὀς, χρεῖὀς, πλεῖὀς, λεῖὀς, λαιὄς, βαιὂς, φαιὂς, πηὂς, γόὀς, θοὂς, ῥόὀς, ζωὄς. For the aspirate is fond of beginning a word, and is by nature inclined to the lead, and is never included in the last part of a word. And the name ταὧς is derived from the extension (τάσις) of the wings.” And Seleucus, in the fifth book of his treatise on Hellenisms, says: “The peacock, ταὧς:—but the Attics, contrary to all rule, both aspirate and circumflex the last syllable; but the aspirate is only attached to the first vowel, when it begins a word in the simple pronunciation of the word, and there taking the lead, and running on more swiftly, it has the first place in the word. Accordingly, the Athenians, in consequence of this arrangement, observing the inherent character of this breathing, do not put it on vowels, as they do often accents and breathings, but put it before them. And I think that the ancients used to mark the aspirate by the character H, on which account the Romans write the letter H at the beginning of all aspirated nouns, showing its predominan nature; and if this be the proper character of the aspirate, it is plain that it is contrary to all reason and analogy that the word ταῶς has any breathing at all marked upon it by the Attic writers.”


    And as at the banquet a great many more discussions arose about each of the dishes that were served up;—But I, [p. 628] said Laurentius, according to the example of our most ex- cellent friend Ulpian, will myself also say something to you (for we are feeding on discussions). What do you think of the grouse? And when some one said,—He is a species of bird; (but it is the custom of the sons of the grammarians to say of anything that is mentioned to them in this way, It is a species of plant, a species of bird, a species of stone;) Laurentius said—And I, my good friend, am aware that the admirable Aristophanes, in his Birds, mentions the grouse in the following lines—
    With the porphyrion and the pelican,
    And pelecinnus, and the phlexis too,
    The grouse and peacock.
    But I wish to learn from you whether there is any mention of the bird in any other author. For Alexander the Myndian, in the second book of his treatise on Winged Animals, speaks of it as a bird of no great size, but rather as one of the smaller birds. For his words are these—“The grouse, a bird about the size of rook, of an earthenware colour, variegated with dirty coloured spots, and long lines, feeding on fruit; and when it lays its eggs it cackles (τετράζει). from which it derives its name (τέτραξ).” And Epicharmus, in his Hebe's Wedding, says—
    For when you've taken quails and sparrows too,
    And larks who love to robe themselves in dust,
    And grouse, and rooks, and beauteous fig-peckers.
    And in another passage he says—
    There were the herons with their long bending necks,
    A numerous flock; and grouse, and rooks besides.
    But since none of you have anything to say on the subject (as you are all silent), I will show you the bird itself; for when I was the Emperor's Procurator in Mysia, and the super- intendent of all the affairs of that province, I saw the bird in that country. And learning that it was called by this name among the Mysians and Pæonians, I recollected what the bird was by the description given of it by Aristophanes. And believing that this bird was considered by the all-accomplished Aristotle worthy of being mentioned in that work of his worth many talents (for it is said that the Stagirite received eight hundred talents from Alexander as his contribution towards perfecting his History of Animals), when I found that there was no mention of it in this work, I was delighted at having the [p. 629] admirable Aristophanes as an unimpeachable witness in the matter. And while he was saying this, a slave came in bringing in the grouse in a basket; but it was in size larger than the largest cock of the common poultry, and in appearance it was very like the porphyrion; and it had wattles hanging from its ears on each side like the common cock; and its voice was loud and harsh. And so after we had admired the beauty of the bird, in a short time one was served up on the table dressed; and the meat of him was like that of the ostrich, which we were often in the habit of eating.


    There was a dish too called loins (ψύαι). The poet who wrote the poem called The Return of the Atridæ, in the third book says—
    And with his rapid feet Hermioneus
    Caught Nisus, and his loins with spear transfix'd.
    And Simaristus, in the third book of his Synonymes, writes thus: “The flesh of the loins which stands out on each side is called ψύαι, and the hollows on each side they call κύβοι and γάλλιαι.” And Clearchus, in the second book of his treatise on The Joints in the Human Body, speaks thus: “There is flesh full of muscle on each side; which some people call ψύαι, and others call ἀλώπεκες, and others νευρόμητραι.” And the admirable Hippocrates also speaks of ψύαι; and they get this name from being easily wiped (ἀπὸ τοῦ ῥαδίως ἀποψᾶσθαι), or as being flesh lightly touching (ἐπιψαύουσα) the bones, and lying lightly on the surface of them. And Euphron the comic poet mentions them in his Theori—
    There is a lobe and parts, too, called ψύαι;
    Learn to cut these before you view the sacrifice.


    There is a dish too made of udder. Teleclides, in his Rigid Men, says—
    Since I'm a female, I must have an udder.
    Herodotus, in the fourth book of his History, uses the same term when speaking of horses; but it is rare to find the word (οὖθαρ) applied to the other animals; but the word most commonly used is ὑπογάστριον, as in the case of fishes. Strattis, in his Atalanta, says—
    The ὑπογάστριον and the extremities
    Of the large tunny.
    And Theopompus, in his Callæchrus, says—
    A. And th' ὑπογάστρια of fish.
    B. O, Ceres!
    [p. 630] But in the Sirens he calls it not ὑπογάστρια, but ὑπήτρια, saying—
    Th' ὑπήτρια of white Sicilian tunnies.


    We must now speak of the hare; concerning this animal Archestratus, that author so curious in his dishes, speaks thus—
    Many are the ways and many the recipes
    For dressing hares; but this is best of all,
    To place before a hungry set of guests,
    A slice of roasted meat fresh from the spit,
    Hot, season'd only with plain simple salt,
    Not too much done. And do not you be vex'd
    At seeing blood fresh trickling from the meat,
    But eat it eagerly. All other ways
    Are quite superfluous, such as when cooks pour
    A lot of sticky clammy sauce upon it,
    Parings of cheese, and lees, and dregs of oil,
    As if they were preparing cat's meat.
    And Naucrates the comic poet, in his Persia, says that it is an uncommon thing to find a hare in Attica: and he speaks thus—
    For who in rocky Attica e'er saw
    A lion or any other similar beast,
    Where 'tis not easy e'en to find a hare
    But Alcæus, in his Callisto, speaks of hares as being plentiful, and says—
    You should have coriander seed so fine
    That, when we've got some hares, we may be able
    To sprinkle them with that small seed and salt.


    And Tryphon says,—“Aristophanes, in his Danaides, uses the form λαγὼν in the accusative case with an acute accent on the last syllable, and with a v for the final letter, saying—
    And when he starts perhaps he may be able
    To help us catch a hare (λαγών).
    And in his Daitaleis he says—
    I am undone, I shall be surely seen
    Plucking the fur from off the hare (λαγών).
    But Xenophon, in his treatise on Hunting, writes the accusative λαγῶ without the v, and with a circumflex accent. But among us the ordinary form of the nominative case is λαγός; and as we say ναὸς, and the Attics νεὼς, and as we say λαὸς, and the Attics λεώς; so, while we call this animal λαγὸς, they call him λαγώς. And as for our using the form λαγὸν in the accusative case singular, to that we find a corresponding [p. 631] nominative plural in Sophocles, in his Amycus, a satiric drama; where he enumerates—
    Cranes, crows, and owls, and kites, and hares (λαγοι).
    But there is also a form of the nominative plural corresponding to the accusative λαγὼν, ending in w, as found in the Flatterers of Eupolis—
    Where there are rays, and hares (λαγὼ), and light-footed women.
    But some people, contrary to all reason, circumflex the last syllable of this form λαγώ; but it ought to have an acute accent, since all the nouns which end in ος, even when they. are changed into ως by the Attic writers, still preserve the same accent as if they had undergone no alteration; as ναὸς, νεώς; κάλος, κάλως. And so, too, Epicharmus used this noun, and Herodotus, and the author of the poem called the Helots. Moreover, λαγὸς is the Ionic form—
    Rouse the sea-hare (λαγὸς) before you drink the water;
    and λαγὼς the Attic one. But the Attic writers use also the form λαγός; as Sophocles, in the line above quoted—
    Cranes, crows, and owls, and hares (λαγοι).
    There is also a line in Homer, where he says—
    πτῶκα λαγωόν.
    Now, if we have regard to the Ionic dialect, we say that w is interpolated; and if we measure it by the Attic dialect, then we say the o is so: and the meat of the hare is called λαγῶα κρέα.


    But Hegesander the Delphian, in his Commentaries, says that in the reign of Antigonus Gonatas, there were such a number of hares in the island of Astypalæa, that the natives consulted the oracle on the subject. And the Pythia answered them that they ought to breed dogs, and hunt them; and so in one year there were caught more than six thousand. And all this immense number arose from a man of the island of Anaphe having put one pair of hares in the island. As also, on a previous occasion, when a certain Astypalæan had let loose a pair of partridges in the island of Anaphe, there came to be such a number of partridges in Anaphe, that the inhabitants ran a risk of being driven out of the island by them. But originally Astypalea had no hares at all, but only partridges. And the hare is a very prolific animal as Xeno- phon has told us, in his treatise on Hunting; and Herodotus [p. 632] speaks of it in the following terms—“Since the hare is hunted by everything-man, beast, and bird—it is on this account a very prolific animal; and it is the only animal known which is capable of superfetation. And it has in its womb at one time one litter with the fur on, and another bare, and another just formed, and a fourth only just conceived.” And Polybius, in the twelfth book of his History, says that. there is another animal like the hare which is called the rabbit (κούνικλος); and he writes as follows—“The animal called the rabbit, when seen at a distance, looks like a small hare; but when any one takes it in his hands, there is a great difference between them, both in appearance and taste: and it lives chiefly underground.” And Posidonius the philosopher also mentions them in his History; and we our selves have seen a great many in our voyage from Dicæarchia10 to Naples. For there is an island not far from the mainland, opposite the lower side of Dicæarchia, inhabited by only a very scanty population, but having a great number of rabbits. And there is also a kind of hare called the Chelidonian hare, which is mentioned by Diphilus, or Calliades, in his play called Ignorance, in the following terms—
    What is this? whence this hare who bears the name
    Of Chelidonian? Is it grey hare soup,
    Mimarcys call'd, so thick with blood?
    And Theophrastus, in the twentieth book of his History, says that there are hares about Bisaltia which have two livers.


    And when a wild boar was put upon the table, which was in no respect less than that noble Calydonian boar which has been so much celebrated,—I suggest to you now, said he, O my most philosophical and precise Ulpian, to inquire who ever said that the Calydonian boar was a female, and that her meat was white. But he, without giving the matter any long consideration, but rather turning the question off, said—But it does seem to me, my friends, that if you are not yet satisfied, after having had such plenty of all these things, that you surpass every one who has ever been celebrated for his powers of eating,—and who those people are you can find out by inquiry. But it is more correct and more consistent with etymology to make the name σὺς, with a ς; for the animal has its name from rushing (σεύομαι) and going on [p. 633] impetuously; but men have got a trick of pronouncing the word without the ς,ὗς; and some people believe that it is called σῦν, by being softened from θῦν, as if it had its name from being a fit animal to sacrifice (θύειν). But now, if it seems good to you, answer me who ever uses the compound word like we do, calling the wild boar not σῦς ἄγριος, but σύαγρος̣ At all events, Sophocles, in his Lovers of Achilles, has applied the word σύαγρος to a dog, as hunting the boar (ἀπὸ τοῦ σῦς ἀγρεύειν), where he says—
    And you, Syagre, child of Pelion.
    And in Herodotus we find Syagrus used as a proper name of a man who was a Lacedæmonian by birth, and who went on the embassy to Gelon the Syracusan, about forming an alliance against the Medes; which Herodotus mentions in the seventh book of his History. And I am aware, too, that there was a general of the Aetolians named Syagrus who is mentioned by Phylarchus, in the fourth book of his History. And Democritus said—You always, O Ulpian, have got a habit of never taking anything that is set before you until you know whether the existing name of it was in use among the ancients. Accordingly you are running the risk, on account of all these inquiries of yours, (just like Philetas of Cos, who was always investigating all false arguments and erroneous uses of words,) of being starved to death, as he was. For he became very thin by reason of his devotion to these inquiries, and so died, as the inscription in front of his tomb shows—
    Stranger, Philetas is my name, I lie
    Slain by fallacious arguments, and cares
    Protracted from the evening through the night.


    And so that you may not waste away by investigating this word σύαγρος, learn that Antiphanes gives this name to the wild boar, in his Ravished Woman:—
    This very night a wild boar (σύαγρον) will I seize,
    And drag into this house, and a lion and a wolf
    And Dionysius the tyrant, in his Adonis, says—
    Under the arched cavern of the nymphs
    I consecrate . . . .
    A wild boar (σύαγρον) as the first-fruits to the gods.
    And Lynceus the Samian, in his epistle to Apollodoru, writes thus—“That you may have some goat's flesh for your chil- dren, and some meat of the wild boar (τὰ συάγρια) for your- [p. 634] self and your friends.” And Hippolochus the Macedonian, whom we have mentioned before now, in his epistle to the above-named Lynceus, mentioned many wild boars (συάγρων). But, since you have turned off the question which was put to you about the colour of the Calydonian boar, and whether any one states him to have been white as to his flesh, we ourselves will tell you who has said so; and you yourself may investigate the proofs which I bring. For some time ago, I read the dithyrambics of Cleomenes of Rhegium; and this account is given in that ode of them which is entitled Meleager. And I am not ignorant that the inhabitants of Sicily call the wild boar (which we call σύαγρος) ἀσχέδωρος. And Aeschylus, in his Phorcides, comparing Perseus to a wild boar, says—
    He rush'd into the cave like a wild boar (ἀσχέδωρος ὥς).
    And Sciras (and he is a poet of what is called the Italian comedy, and a native of Tarentum), in his Meleager, says—
    Where shepherds never choose to feed their flocks,
    Nor does the wild boar range and chase his mate.
    And it is not wonderful that Aeschylus, who lived for some time in Sicily, should use many Sicilian words.


    There were also very often kids brought round by the servants, dressed in various ways; some of them with a great deal of assafoetida, which afforded us no ordinary pleasure; for the flesh of the goat is exceedingly nutritious. At all events, Chitomachus the Carthaginian, who is inferior to no one of the new Academy for his spirit of philosophical investigation, says that a certain Theban athlete surpassed all the men of his time in strength, because he ate goat's flesh; for the juice of that meat is nervous and sticky, and such as can remain a long time in the substance of the body. And this wrestler used to be much laughed at, because of the unpleasant smell of his perspiration. And all the meat of pigs and lambs, while it remains undigested in the system, is very apt to turn, because of the fat. But the banquets spoken of by the comic poets rather please the ears by sweet sounds, than the palate by sweet tastes; as, for instance, the feast mentioned by Antiphanes, in his Female Physician—
    A. But what meat do you eat with most delight?
    B. What meat?—why if you mean as to its cheapness,
    There's mutton ere it bears you wool or milk,
    That is to say, there's lamb, my friend; and so
    [p. 635] There's also meat of goats which give no milk,
    That is to say, of kids. For so much profit
    Is got from these when they are fully grown,
    That I put up with eating cheaper kinds.
    And in his Cyclops he says—
    These are the animals which the earth produces,
    Which you will have from me: the ox of th' herd,
    The goat which roves the woods, the chamois which
    Loves the high mountain tops, the fearless ram,
    The hog, the boar, the sucking-pig besides,
    And hares, and kids . . . .
    Green cheese, dry cheese, and cut and pounded cheese,
    Scraped cheese, and chopp'd cheese, and congeal'd cheese


    And Mnesimachus, in his Horse-breeder, provides the following things for dinner—
    Come forth, O Manes, from the chamber
    Deck'd with the lofty cypress roof;
    Go to the market, to the statues
    Of Maia's son, where all the chiefs
    Of the tribes meet, and seek the troop
    Of their most graceful pupils, whom
    Phidon is teaching how to mount
    Their horses, and dismount from them.
    I need not tell you now their names.
    Go; tell them that the fish is cold,
    The wine is hot, the pastry dry,
    The bread dry, too, and hard. The chops
    Are burnt to pieces, and the meat
    Taken from out the brine and dish'd.
    The sausages are served up too;
    So is the tripe, and rich black puddings.
    Those who 're in-doors are all at table,
    The wine cups all are quickly drain'd,
    The pledge goes round; and nought remains
    But the lascivious drunken cordax.11
    The young men all are waxing wanton,
    And ev'rything's turn'd upside down.
    Remember what I say, and bear
    My words in mind.
    Why stand you gaping like a fool?
    Look here, and just repeat the message
    Which I've just told you; do,—I will
    Repeat it o'er again all through.
    Bid them come now, and not delay,
    Nor vex the cook who's ready for them.
    For all the fish is long since boil'd,
    And all the roast meat's long since cold.
    [p. 636] And mention o'er each separate dish;—
    Onions and olives, garlic too,
    Cucumbers, cabbages, and broth,
    Fig-leaves, and herbs, and tunny cutlets,
    Glanis and rhinè, shark and conger,
    A phyxicinus whole, a tunny,
    A coracinus whole, a thunnis,
    A small anchovy, and a tench,
    A spindle-fish, a tail of dog-fish,
    A carcharias and a torpedo;
    A sea-frog, lizard, and a perch,
    A trichias and a phycis too,
    A brinchus, mullet, and sea-cuckoo.
    A turtle, and besides a lamprey,
    A phagrus, lebias, and grey mullet,
    A sparus, and æolias,
    A swallow, and the bird of Thrace,
    A sprat, a squid, a turbot, and
    Dracænides, and polypi,
    A cuttle-fish, an orphus too;
    A crab, likewise an escharus,
    A needle-fish, a fine anchovy,
    Some cestres, scorpions, eels, and loaves.
    And loads of other meat, beyond
    My calculation or my mention.
    Dishes of goose, and pork, and beef,
    And lamb, and mutton, goat and kid;
    Of poultry, ducks and partridges,
    Andjays, and foxes. And what follows
    Will be a downright sight to see,
    So many good things there will be.
    And all the slaves through all the house
    Are busy baking, roasting, dressing,
    And plucking, cutting, beating, boiling,
    And laughing, playing, leaping, feasting,
    And drinking, joking, scolding, pricking.
    And lovely sounds from tuneful flutes,
    And song and din go through the house,
    Of instruments both wind and string'd.
    Meantime a lovely scent of cassia,
    From Syria's fertile land, does strike
    Upon my sense, and frankincense,
    And myrrh, and nard * * *
    * * * * *
    Such a confusion fills the house
    With every sort of luxury.


    Now, after all this conversation, there was brought in the dish which is called Rhoduntia; concerning which that wise cook quoted numbers of tragedies before he would tell us what he was bringing us. And he laughed at those who [p. 637] professed to be such admirable cooks, mentioning whom, he said—Did that cook in the play of Anthippus, the comic poet, ever invent such a dish as this?—the cook, I mean, who, in the Veiled Man, boasted in this fashion:—
    A. Sophon, an Ararnanian citizen,
    And good Democritus of Rhodes, were long
    Fellow-disciples in this noble art,
    And Labdacus of Sicily was their tutor.
    These men effaced all vulgar old recipes
    Out of their cookery books, and took away
    The mortar from the middle of the kitchen.
    They brought into disuse all vinegar,
    Cummin, and cheese, and assafœtida,
    And coriander seed, and all the sauces
    Which Saturn used to keep within his cruets.
    And the cook who employ'd such means they thought
    A humbug, a mere mountebank in his art.
    They used oil only, and clean plates, O father,
    And a quick fire, wanting little bellows:
    With this they made each dinner elegant.
    They were the first who banish'd tears and sneezing,
    And spitting from the board; and purified
    The manners of the guests. At last the Rhodian,
    Drinking some pickle by mistake, did die;
    For such a draught was foreign to his nature.
    B. 'Twas likely so to be.
    A. But Sophon still
    Has all Ionia for his dominions,
    And he, O father, was my only tutor.
    And I now study philosophic rules,
    Wishing to leave behind me followers,
    And new discover'd rules to guide the art.
    B. Ah! but, I fear, you'll want to cut me up,
    And not the animal we think to sacrifice.
    A. To-morrow you shall see me with my books,
    Seeking fresh precepts for my noble art;
    Nor do I differ from th' Aspendian.
    And if you will, you too shall taste a specimen
    Of this my skill. I do not always give
    The self-same dishes to all kinds of guests;
    But I regard their lives and habits all.
    One dish I set before my friends in love,
    Another's suited to philosophers,
    Another to tax-gatherers. A youth
    Who has a mistress, quickly will devour
    His patrimonial inheritance;
    So before him I place fat cuttle-fish
    Of every sort; and dishes too of fish
    Such as do haunt the rocks, all season'd highly
    [p. 638] With every kind of clear transparent sauce.
    For such a man cares nought about his dinner,
    But all his thoughts are on his mistress fix'd.
    Then to philosophers I serve up ham,
    Or pettitoes; for all that crafty tribe
    Are wonderful performers at the table.
    Owls, eels, and spars I give the publicans,
    When they're in season, but at other times
    Some lentil salad. And all funeral feasts
    I make more splendid than the living ones.
    For old men's palates are not critical;
    At least not half so much as those of youths.
    And so I give them mustard, and I make them
    Sauces of pungent nature, which may rouse
    Their dormant sense, and make it snug the air;
    And when I once behold a face, I know
    The dishes that its owner likes to eat.


    And the cook in the Thesmophorus of Dionysius, my revellers, (for it is worth while to mention him also,) says—
    You have said these things with great severity,
    (And that's your usual kindness, by the Gods);
    You've said a cook should always beforehand
    Know who the guests may be for whom he now
    Is dressing dinner. For he should regard
    This single point—whom he has got to please
    While seasoning his sauces properly;
    And by this means he'll know the proper way
    And time to lay his table and to dress
    His meats and soups. But he who this neglects
    Is not a cook, though he may be a seasoner.
    But these are different arts, a wondrous space
    Separates the two. It is not every one
    That's called a general who commands an army,
    But he who can with prompt and versatile skill
    Avail himself of opportunities,
    And look about him, changing quick his plans,
    He is the general. He who can't do this
    Is only in command. And so with us.
    To roast some beef, to carve a joint with neatness,
    To boil up sauces, and to blow the fire,
    Is anybody's task; he who does this
    Is but a seasoner and broth-maker:
    A cook is quite another thing. His mind
    Must comprehend all facts and circumstances:
    Where is the place, and when the time of supper;
    Who are the guests, and who the entertainer;
    What fish he ought to buy, and when to buy it.
    . . . . . For all these things
    You'll have on almost every occasion;
    But they're not always of the same importance,
    [p. 639] Nor do they always the same pleasure give.
    Archestratus has written on this art,
    And is by many people highly thought of,
    As having given us a useful treatise;
    But still there's much of which he's ignorant,
    And all his rules are really good for nothing,
    So do not mind or yield to all the rules
    Which he has laid down most authoritatively,
    For a more empty lot of maxims you
    Will hardly find. For when you write a book
    On cookery, it will not do to say,
    “As I was just now saying;” for this art
    Has no fix'd guide but opportunity,
    And must itself its only mistress be.
    But if your skill be ne'er so great, and yet
    You let the opportunity escape,
    Your art is lost, and might as well be none.
    BO man, you're wise. But as for this man who
    You just now said was coming here to try
    His hand at delicate banquets, say, does he
    Forget to come?
    A. If I but make you now
    One forced meat ball, I can in that small thing
    Give you a specimen of all my skill.
    And I will serve you up a meal which shall
    Be redolent of the Athenian breezes.
    * * * * *
    Dost fear that I shall fail to lull your soul
    With dishes of sufficient luxury?


    And to all this Aemilianus makes answer—
    My friend, you've made a speech quite long enough
    In praising your fav'rite art of cookery;—
    as Hegesippus says in his Brethren. Do you then—
    Give us now something new to see beyond
    Your predecessor's art, or plague us not;
    But show me what you've got, and tell its name.
    And he rejoins—
    You look down on me, since I am a cook.
    But perhaps—
    What I have made by practising my art—
    according to the comic poet Demetrius, who, in his play entitled The Areopagite, has spoken as follows—
    What I have made by practising my art
    Is more than any actor e'er has gain'd,—
    This smoky art of mine is quite a kingdom.
    I was a caper-pickler with Seleucus,
    And at the court of the Sicilian king,
    [p. 640] Agathocles, I was the very first
    To introduce the royal dish of lentils.
    My chief exploit I have not mention'd yet:
    There was a famine, and a man named Lachares
    Was giving an entertainment to his friends;
    Whom I recovered with some caper-sauce.
    Lachares made Minerva naked, who caused him no inconvenience; but I will now strip you who are inconveniencing me, said Aemilianus, unless you show me what you have got with you. And he said at last, rather unwillingly, I call this dish the Dish of Roses. And it is prepared in such a way, that you may not only have the ornament of a garland on your head, but also in yourself, and so feast your whole body with a luxurious banquet. Having pounded a quantity of the most fragrant roses in a mortar, I put in the brains of birds and pigs boiled and thoroughly cleansed of all the sinews, and also the yolks of eggs, and with them oil, and pickle-juice, and pepper, and wine. And having pounded all these things carefully together, I put them into a new dish, applying a gentle and steady fire to them. And while saying this, he uncovered the dish, and diffused such a sweet perfume over the whole party, that one of the guests present said with great truth—
    The winds perfumed the balmy gale convey
    Through heav'n, through earth, and all the aërial way;
    so excessive was the fragrance which was diffused from the roses.


    After this, some roasted birds were brought round, and some lentils and peas, saucepans and all, and other things of the same kind, concerning which Phænias the Eresian writes thus, in his treatise on Plants—“For every leguminous cultivated plant bearing seed, is sown either for the sake of being boiled, such as the bean and the pea, (for a sort of boiled soup is made of these vegetables,) or else for the sake of extracting from them a farinaceous flour, as, for instance, the aracus; or else to be cooked like lentils, as the aphace and the common lentil; and some again are sown in order to serve as food for fourfooted animals, as, for instance, the vetch for cattle, and the aphace for sheep. But the vegetable called the pea is mentioned by Eupolis, in his Golden Age. And Heliodorus, who wrote a description of the whole world, in the first book of his treatise on the Acropolis, said—” After the manner in [p. 641] which to boil wheat was discovered, the ancients called it πύανον, but the people of the present day name it ὁλόπυρον."

    Now, after this discussion had continued a long time, Democritus said—But at least allow us to have a share of these lentils, or of the saucepan itself, lest some of you get pelted with stones, like Hegemon the Thasian. And Ulpian said,—What is the meaning of this pelting (βαλλητὺς) with stones? for I know that in my native city, Eleusis, there is a festival celebrated which is called βαλλητὺς, concerning which I will not say a word, unless I get a reward from each of you. But I, said Democritus, as I am not a person who makes speeches by the hour for hire, like the Prodeipnus of Timon, will tell you all I know about Hegemon.


    Chamæleon of Pontus, in the sixth book of his treatise concerning ancient Comedy, says—"Hegemon of Thasos, the man who wrote the Parodies, was nicknamed The Lentil, and in one of his parodies he wrote—
    While I revolved these counsels in my mind,
    Pallas Minerva, with her golden sceptre,
    Stood by my head, and touched me, and thus spake—
    O thou ill-treated Lentil, wretched man,
    Go to the contest: and I then took courage.
    And once he came into the theatre, exhibiting a comedy, having his robe full of stones; and he, throwing the stones into the orchestra, caused the spectators to wonder what he meant. And presently afterwards he said—
    These now are stones, and let who chooses throw them;
    But Lentil's good alike at every season.
    But the man has an exceedingly high reputation for his parodies, and was exceedingly celebrated for reciting his verses with great skill and dramatic power; and on this account he was greatly admired by the Athenians. And in his Battle of the Giants, he so greatly delighted the Athenians, that they laughed to excess on that day; and though on that very day the news of all the disasters which had befallen them in Sicily had just arrived, still no on left the theatre, although nearly every one had lost relations by that calamity; and so they hid their faces and wept, but no one rose to depart, in order to avoid being seen by the spectators from other cities to be grieved at the disaster. But they remained listening to the performance, and that too, though [p. 642] Hegemon himself, when he heard of it, had resolved to cease his recitation. But when the Athenians, being masters of the sea, brought all the actions at law concerning the islands or the islanders into the city, some one instituted a prosecution against Hegemon, and summoned him to Athens to answer it. And he came in court, and brought with him all the workmen of the theatre, and with them he appeared, entreating Alcibiades to assist him. And Alcibiades bade him be of good cheer, and ordered all the workmen to follow him; and so he came to the temple of Cybele, where the trials of prosecutions were held; and then wetting his finger with his mouth, he wiped out the indictment against Hegemon. And though the clerk of the court and the magistrate were indignant at this, they kept quiet for fear of Alcibiades, for which reason also the man who had instituted the prosecution ran away."


    This, O Ulpian, is what we mean by pelting (βαλλητὺς), but you, when you please, may tell us about the βαλλητὺς at Eleusis. And Ulpian replied,—But you have reminded me, my good friend Democritus, by your mention of saucepans, that I have often wished to know what that is which is called the saucepan of Telemachus, and who Telemachus was. And Democritus said,—Timocles the comic poet, and he was also a writer of tragedy, in his drama called Lethe, says—
    And after this Telemachus did meet him,
    And with great cordiality embraced him,
    And said, "Nowlend me, I do beg, the saucepans
    In which you boil'd your beans." And scarcely had
    He finish'd saying this, when he beheld
    At some small distance the renowned Philip,
    Son of Chærephilus, that mighty man,
    Whom he accosted with a friendly greeting,
    And then he bade him send some wicker baskets.
    But that this Telemachus was a citizen of the borough of Acharnæ, the same poet shows us in his Bacchus, where he says—
    A. Telemachus th' Acharnian still is speaking,
    And he is like the new-bought Syrian slaves.
    B. How so, what does he do? I wish to know.
    A. He bears about with him a deadly dish.
    And in his Icarians, a satyric drama, he says—
    So that we'd nothing with us; I myself,
    Passing a miserable night, did first
    [p. 643] Sleep on the hardest bed; and then that Lion,
    Thudippus, did congeal us all with fear;
    Then hunger pinch'd us . . . . . .
    And so we went unto the fiery Dion.
    But even he had nought with which to help us;
    So running to the excellent Telemachus,
    The great Acharnian, I found a heap
    Of beans, and seized on some and ate them up.
    And when that ass Cephisodorus saw us,
    He by a most unseemly noise betray'd us.
    From this it is plain that Telemachus, being a person who was constantly eating dishes of beans, was always celebrating the festival Pyanepsia.


    And bean soup is mentioned by Heniochus the comic writer, in his play called the Wren, where he says—
    A. I often, by the Gods I swear, consider
    In my own mind how far a fig surpasses
    A cardamum. But you assert that you
    Have held some conversation with this Pauson,
    And you request of me a difficult matter.
    B. But having many cares of divers aspects,
    Just tell me this, and it may prove amusing;
    Why does bean soup so greatly fill the stomach,
    And why do those who know this Pauson's habits
    Dislike the fire? For this great philosopher
    Is always occupied in eating beans.


    So after this conversation had gone on for some time, water for the hands was brought round; and then again Ulpian asked whether the word χέρνιβον, which we use in ordinary conversation, was used by the ancients; and who had met with it; quoting that passage in the Iliad—
    He spoke, and bade the attendant handmaid bring
    The purest water of the living spring,
    (Her ready hands the ewer (χέρνιβον) and basin held,)
    Then took the golden cup his queen had fill'd.
    But the Attic writers say χερνίβιον, as Lysias, for instance, in his speech against Alcibiades, where he says, “With all his golden wash-hand basins (χερνιβιοις) and incense-burners;” but Eupolis uses the word χειρόνιπτρον, in his Peoples—
    And he who runs up first receives a basin (χειρόνιπτρον),
    But when a man is both a virtuous man
    And useful citizen, though he surpass
    In virtue all the rest, he gets no basin (χειρόνιπτρον).
    But Epicharmus, in his Ambassadors for a Sacred Purpose, uses the word χειρόνιβον in the following lines:— [p. 644]
    A harp, and tripods, chariots too, and tables
    Of brass Corinthian, and wash-hand basins (χειρόνιβα),
    Cups for libations, brazen caldrons too.
    But it is more usual to say κατὰ χειρὸς ὕδωρ (water to be poured over the hands), as Eupolis does say in his Golden Age, and Ameipsias in his Sling, and Alcæus in his Sacred Wedding: and this is a very common expression. But Philyllius, in his Auge, says κατὰ χειρῶν, not χειρὸς, in these lines:—
    And since the women all have dined well,
    'Tis time to take away the tables now,
    And wipe them, and then give each damsel water
    To wash her hands (κατὰ χειρῶν), and perfumes to anoint them.
    And Menander, in his Pitcher, says—
    And they having had water for their hands (κατὰ χειρῶν λαβόντες),
    Wait in a friendly manner.


    But Aristophanes the grammarian, in his Commentary on the Tablets of Callimachus, laughs at those who do not know the difference between the two expressions, κατὰ χειρὸς and ἀπονίψασθαι; for he says that among the ancients the way in which people washed their hands before breakfast and supper was called κατὰ χειρὸς, but what was done after those meals was called ἀπονίψασθαι. But the grammarian appears to have taken this observation from the Attic writers, since Homer says, somewhere or other—
    Marshall'd in order due, to each a sewer
    Presents, to bathe his hands (νίψασθαι), a radiant ewer;
    Luxuriant then they feast.
    And somewhere else he says—
    The golden ewer a maid obsequious brings,
    Replenish'd from the cool translucent springs,
    With copious water the bright vase supplies,
    A silver laver of capacious size;
    They wash (ὕδωρ ἐπὶ χεῖρας ἔχευαν). The tables in fair order spread,
    They heap the glittering canisters with bread.
    And Sophron, in his Female Actresses, says—
    O hard-work'd Cæcoa, give us water for our hands (κατὰ χειρὸς),
    And then prepare the table for our food.
    And among both the tragic and comic writers the word χερνίβα is read with an acute accent on the penultima. By Euripides, in his Hercules—
    Which great Alcmena's son might in the basin (χερνίβα) dip.
    And also by Eupolis, in his Goats—
    Here make an end of your lustration (χερνίβα).
    [p. 645] And χέρνιψ means the water into which they used to dip a firebrand which they took from the altar on which they were offering the sacrifice, and then sprinkling the bystanders with it, they purified them. But the accusative χερνιβα ought to be written with an acute accent on the antepenultima; for all compound words like that, ending in ψ, derived from the perfect passive, preserve the vowel of the penultima of that perfect tense. And if the perfect ends its penultimate syllable with a double μμ, then the derivative has a grave on the ultima, as λέλειμμαι αἰγίλιψ, τέτριμμαι οἰκότριψ, κέκλεμμαι βοόκλεψ (a word found in Sophocles and applied to Mercury), βέβλεμμαι κατώβλεψ (a word found in Archelaus of the Chersonese, in his poem on Things of a Peculiar Nature: and in the oblique cases such words keep the accent on the same syllable. And Aristophanes, in his Heroes, has used the word χερνίβιον.


    And for washing the hands they also used something which they called σμῆμα, or soap, for the sake of getting off the dirt; as Antiphanes mentions in his Corycus—
    A. But while I'm listening to your discourse,
    Bid some one bring me water for my hands.
    B. Let some one here bring water and some σμῆμα.
    And besides this they used to anoint their hands with perfumes, despising the crumbs of bread on which men at banquets used to wipe their hands, and which the Lacedæmonians called κυνάδες,12 as Polemo mentions in his Letter on Mean Appellations. But concerning the custom of anointing the hands with perfumes, Epigenes or Antiphanes (whichever was the author of the play called the Disappearance of Money) speaks as follows:—
    And then you'll walk about, and, in the fashion,
    Will take some scented earth, and wash your hands
    And Philoxenus, in his play entitled the Banquet, says—
    And then the slaves brought water for the hands (νίπτρα κατὰ χειρῶν,
    And soap (σμῆμα) well mix'd with oily juice of lilies,
    And poured o'er the hands as much warm water
    As the guests wish'd. And then they gave them towels
    Of finest linen, beautifully wrought,
    And fragrant ointments of ambrosial smell,
    And garlands of the flow'ring violet.
    [p. 646] And Dromo, in his Female Harp-player, says—
    And then, as soon as we had breakfasted,
    One handmaid took away the empty tables,
    Another brought us water for our hands;
    We wash'd, and took our lily wreaths again,
    And crown'd our heads with garlands.


    But they called the water in which they washed either their hands or their feet equally ἀπόνιπτρον; Aristophanes says—
    Like those who empty slops (ἀπόνιπτρον) at eventide.
    And they used the word λεκάνη, or basin, in the same way as they used χειρόνιπτρον (a wash-hand basin); but the word ἀπόνιμμα is used in a peculiar sense by the Attic writers only for the water used to do honour to the dead, and for purifying men who have incurred some religious pollution. As also Clidemus tells us, in his book entitled Exegeticus; for he, having mentioned the subject of Offerings to the Dead, writes as follows:—“Dig a trench to the west of the tomb. Then look along the side of the trench towards the west. Then pour down water, saying these words,—'I pour this as a purifying water for you to whom it is right to pour it, and who have a right to expect it.' Then after that pour perfume.” And Dorotheus gives the same instructions; saying, that among the hereditary national customs of the people of Thyatira, these things are written concerning the purification of suppliants,—“Then having washed your hands yourself, and when all the rest of those who have joined in disembowelling the victim have washed theirs, take water and purify yourselves, and wash off all the blood from him who is to be purified: and afterwards stir the purifactory water, and pour it into the same place.”


    But the cloth of unbleached linen with which they used to wipe their hands was called χειρόμακτρον, which also, in some verses which have been already quoted, by Philoxenus of Cythera, was called ἔκτριμμα. Aristophanes, in his Cook's Frying, says—
    Bring quickly, slave, some water for the hands (κατὰ χειρος),
    And bring at the same time a towel (χειρόμακτρον) too.
    (And we may remark here, that in this passage he uses the expression κατὰ χειρὸς with reference to washing the hands after eating; not, as Aristophanes the grammarian says, that [p. 647] the Athenians used the expression κατὰ χειρὸς before eating, but the word νίψασθαι after eating.) Sophocles, in his (Enomaus, says—
    Shaved in the Scythian manner, while his hair
    Served for a towel, and to wipe his hands in.
    And Herodotus, in the second book of his History, speaks in a similar manner. But Xenophon, in the first book of his Cyropædia, writes—“But when you have touched any one of these things, you immediately wipe your hands in a towel, as if you were greatly annoyed at their having been polluted in such a manner.” And Polemo, in the sixth book of his books addressed to Antigonus and Adæus, speaks of the difference between the two expressions κατὰ χειρὸς ανδ νίψα- σθαι. And Demonicus, in his Achelonius, uses the expression κατὰ χειρὸς, of water used before a meal, in these lines:—
    But each made haste, as being about to dine
    With one who 'd always a good appetite,
    And who had also but Bœotian manners.
    And so they all neglected washing their hands (κατὰ χειρὸς),
    Because they could do that when they had dined.
    And Cratinus also mentions towels, which he calls ὠμόλινον, in his Archilochi,—
    With her hair cover'd with a linen towel,
    Token of slovenly neglect.
    And Sappho, in the fifth book of her Melodies addressed to Venus, when she says—
    And purple towels o'er your knees I'll throw,
    And do not you despise my precious gifts
    * * * * * * *
    speaks of these towels as a covering for the head; at Hecatæus shows, or whoever else it was who wrote those Descriptions of the World in the book entitled Asia,—“And the women wear towels (χειρόμακτρα) on their heads.” And Herodotus, in his second book, says, “And after this they said that this king descended down alive into the lower regions, which the Greeks call αἵδης, and that there he played at dice with Ceres, and that sometimes he won and sometimes he lost; and that after that he returned to earth with a gold-embroidered towel, which he had received as a present from her.”


    And Hellanicus, in his Histories, says that the name of the boy who, when he had given Hercules water to wash his hands, and poured it over his hands from the basin, was [p. 648] afterwards slain by Hercules with a blow of his fist, (on which account Hercules left Calydon,) was Archias; but in the second book of the Phoronis he calls him Cherias: but Herodorus, in the seventeenth book of his account of the Exploits of Hercules, calls him Eunomus. And Hercules also, without intending it, killed Cyathus, the son of Pyles and brother of Antimachus, who was acting as his cupbearer, as Nicander relates in the second book of his History of Œta; to whom also he says that a temple was dedicated by Hercules in the Proschium, which to this day is called the Temple of the Cupbearer.

    But we will stop this conversation at this point, and begin the next book with an account of the voracity of Hercules.

    1 The fragment here given appears to be hopelessly corrupt.

    2 Hom. Iliad. ix. 323, Pope's translation.

    3 Hom. Odyss. xiv. 80.

    4 This is very obscure and corrupt. Casaubon suspects the genuineness of the last four lines altogether.

    5 μέροπες means properly men speaking articulately, in contradis- tinction to brutes. It is a favourite word with Homer.

    6 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.

    7 I have translated ἀτταγᾶς the woodcock, because that is always considered to be the bird meant, but it is plain that the description here given does not apply in the least to the woodcock. In some particulars it is more like the landrail.

    8 Schweighaeuser thinks, with apparent reason, that there is some corruption in the text here.

    9 Athenæus here does not arrange his conjugations as we do; nor is it very plain what he means by an immutable consonant.

    10 The same as Puteoli.

    11 The cordax was a lascivious dance of the old comedy; to dance it off the stage was considered a sign of drunkenness and indecency.

    12 As being thrown to the dogs; from κυὼν, a dog.

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