them, and in Lyons the potter’s earth. Place my
alarum-clock here, and place the pointer for four o’clock
in the morning, for I don’t wish to sleep later. Take
my shoes off, and place here the folding-chair in which
I may sit. Let the chamber-crockery be set near the bed
on a foot-stool. I don’t know what it is that causes a
bad smell here. Fumigate with frankincense or juniper.
Sing to me something on the lyre as I go to bed after the
custom of Pythagoras, so that I may the more quickly fall
asleep, and my dreams may be the more peaceful.
_Epict._
Somne, quies rerum, placidissime, somne, deorum,
Pax animi, quem cura fugit, qui corpora duris
Fessa ministeriis mulces, reparasque labori.[57]
OVID, _Metamorph._ book xi. ll. 623–623.
XV
CULINA—_The Kitchen_
LUCULLUS, APICIUS, PISTILLARIUS, ABLIGURINUS
In this dialogue Vives describes the matters which
concern the kitchen. Nor is it any disgrace for a noble
youth to be able to call things, one by one, by their
right names, as also the interpreter of Aristophanes
thinks in the _Acharnians_:—
ἔστι δὲ τοῦτο ἀστεῖον καὶ πεπαιδευμένῳ ἀρμόξον, μήδε τῶν
κατὰ τὴν οἰκίαν σκευ ῶν τῆς καθημερινῆς χρείας, ἀγνοεῖν
τὰ ὀνόματα.[58]
The names of the interlocutors are aptly chosen, as is
always the case. Lucullus and Apicius are fit names of
men noted for luxury. As to Lucullus, see Plutarch in his
_Lucullus and Athenaeus_, book xii., who says that he:—
τρυφῆς πρῶτον εἰς ἅπαν Ῥωμαίοις ἡγεμόνα γενέσθαι.[59]
Also in Book iv. he says:—
τὸν’ Ἀπίκιον περὶ ἀσωτίᾳ πάντας ἀνθρώπους
ὑπερηκοντικέναι.[60]
Pistillarius and Abligurinus are fictitious names; the
former from the pounder of a mortar, and as if the
epithet for an obtuse man; the latter from a “licking
away,” as of a gourmand. This dialogue may be divided
into three parts, the management of the kitchen by
Apicius, his precepts, and songs.
I. _The Hiring of Apicius_
_Luc._ Are you an eating-house keeper (_popino_)?
_Apic._ I am.
_Luc._ Where do you work?
_Apic._ At the eating-house called the Poultry-Cock
(_galli gallinacei_). Do you want my services?
_Luc._ Yes, for a wedding.
_Apic._ Let me then hasten home, so that I may give
instructions to my wife how to treat the gourmandisers
(whom I know are not wont to be lacking in this city) and
their guests who are invited.
_Luc._ Do you hear? You will find me in the Stone
Street—in the shoemakers’ district.
_Apic._ I will soon be with you.
_Luc._ Very well. Get to your cook-shop.
II. _The Precepts of Apicius_
_Apic._ Hallo! Pistillarius and Abligurinus, make a fire
with big logs on the hearth under the flue, and let them
be as dry as possible.
_Pist._ Do you think you are at Rome? Here we have not
stalls for the sale of dry wood from which dry logs can
be got. But this which I have will be dry enough.
_Apic._ If you don’t get it dry enough, Abligurinus, you
will, by your work of blowing up the flame, lose your
eyesight.
_Ablig._ Then I shall drink so much the more freely.
Curse the wine!
_Apic._ Curse the water! For you shall not touch wine
to-day if I keep in my right mind. I am not going to let
you overturn the vessels, and break the small pots to
pieces, and ruin the food.
_Ablig._ This fire won’t burn!
_Apic._ Throw in a small bundle of sticks smeared in
brimstone, and kindling-wood, together with some chips.
_Ablig._ It is quite gone out.
_Apic._ Run across to the next house with the shovel and
bring us a great big firebrand and some good live coal.
_Ablig._ The master of that house is a metal-worker, nor
does he let a single piece of coal be taken from his
furnaces but he has his eye on it (_citius oculum_).
_Apic._ He is not a metal-worker, but a metal-cutter; go
therefore to the oven. What are you bringing there? This
is not a firebrand; it is rather a torch (_titionem magis
quam torrem_).
_Ablig._ They have not got burning coal.
_Apic._ What bad coal! You should rather call it turf.
Move these logs and stir the kindling wood with this
poker so that it may gather flame. Use the _pyrolabum_
(the tongs), you ass!
_Ablig._ What thing does that word signify?
_Apic._ _Forceps ignaria_ (tongs for the fire), a
_pruniceps_ (a fire-stirrer).
_Ablig._ Why do you give me words in Greek, as if there
were not Latin words for the things?
_Apic._ Are asses also grammarians?
_Ablig._ What wonder, since grammarians are certainly
_asses_.
_Apic._ Make an end of wrangling. I want some coals
or pieces of turf lighting for me on this hearth, for
cooking the cakes baked in earthen cups. Hang the bronze
vessel over the fire so that we can have plenty of hot
water. Then throw into the cooking-pot that shoulder
of mutton with the salted beef; add calf and lamb
flesh, and stir the cooking vessel on the fire. In the
_chytropus_[61] we will thoroughly boil the rice.
_Ablig._ What shall we do with the chickens?
_Apic._ They shall be cooked in brazen pots which are
lined with tin, so that they may have a more pleasant
taste. But don’t bring them too soon; the meat-spits and
the pans should be forthcoming about nine o’clock. Let
this pike play about in the water a little, then skin him.
_Ablig._ Are there to be meat and fish at the same meal?
_Apic._ Decidedly, according to the German fashion.
_Ablig._ And is this approved by the doctors?
_Apic._ It is not in accordance with the art of medicine,
but it will please the doctors. I thought this block of
a man (_stips_) was merely a grammarian; he is also a
doctor.
_Ablig._ Have you never heard of that question: Whether
there are in a city more doctors or fools?
_Apic._ Who has thrust you into the kitchen, when you are
such a salted herring (_saperda_)?
_Ablig._ My adverse fate.
_Apic._ Nay, what is quite clear,—it is thy sluggishness,
carelessness, voracity, thy throat and thy stomach, thy
degenerate and debased soul. Therefore must thou now
run about with naked feet, half-clothed, in old torn
garments which don’t cover you behind.
_Ablig._ What has my poverty got to do with you?
_Apic._ Nothing at all, and I should not like it to
concern me. But to work! And outside of work let us
have no more talk than necessary. Are my orders not
sufficient? Nothing apparently can be enough for you
in the way of closely laying down and insisting over
and over again on what is to be done. Give me my
cooking-trousers. I want to go out of doors, but I will
soon be back. Give me also, please, the olive-crusher
(_tudicula_), the badge of our art. This is my
thunderbolt and trident.
_Pist._ Hallo, Abligurinus, place those jugs on the
urn-table and wash this beef steadily, and give it a good
rubbing in the basin.
_Ablig._ Have you any other orders to give? One commander
is sufficient for one camp, but it does not seem to be
sufficient for one kitchen. Do it all yourself. You are a
sharper exactor of work than the master of the cook-shop
himself. For the future I won’t call you Pistillarius (a
pounder with the pestle), but a sharp sting (_stimulus
acutus_).
_Pist._ Nay, rather call me _Onocentron_ (the spur
of asses). Cut up then this calf’s flesh on this
flesh-board. Also powder the cheese so that we can
sprinkle it over this dumpling.
_Ablig._ How? With the hand?
_Pist._ No, but with the grater. Pour a few drops of oil
in from the cruse.
_Ablig._ Do you mean from this flask?
_Pist._ Place here the mortar.
_Ablig._ Which of them?
_Pist._ That brazen one with the pestle of the same metal.
_Ablig._ What for?
_Pist._ For grinding rock-parsley.
_Ablig._ This is done more satisfactorily in a marble
mortar with a wooden pestle.
III. _Songs_
_Pist._ Please sing us a song, as you are wont to do.
_Ablig._
Ego nolo Caesar esse,
Ambulare per Britannos,
Scythicas pati pruinas.[62]
FLORUS.[63]
Ut sapiant fatuae Fabiorum prandia betae,
O quam saepe petet vina piperque coquus.[64]
MARTIAL’S _Epigrams_, 13, 13.
_Pist._ Do you say the _Fabii_ or the _fabri_?
_Ablig._ On that point inquire of the bandy-legged
schoolmaster and you will get for your _Fabii_ and
_fabri_ a sound blow on the cheek or the back.
_Pist._ Is that the sort of man?
_Ablig._ He is a determined, courageous man, prompt with
blows. He compensates for the slowness of his tongue by
the swiftness of his hands.
_Pist._ Here, bring the beer-jug. My palate, throat,
gullet are parched with thirst.
_Ablig._
Et gravis attrita pendebat cantharus ansa.[65]
VERGIL, _Eclogue_, 6, 17.
Claudere quae coenas lactuca solebat avorum,
Dic mihi, cur nostros inchoat illa dapes?[66]
MARTIAL, _Epigram_, 13, 14.
Filia Picenae venio Lucanica porcae,
Pultibus hinc niveis grata corona datur.[67]
MARTIAL, _Epigram_, 13, 35.
_Apic._ Where hast thou thus learnt to ῥαψωδεῖν?
_Ablig._ Lately I served a schoolmaster in Calabria who
was a poetaster. He often used to give me no other meal
than a song of a hundred verses, in which he used to say
there was a wonderful savour. I, indeed, would rather
have had a little bread and cheese. There was, however,
enough water for the house, and we had permission to
drink from the well to our heart’s content. If I then
had gone hungry to bed, instead of food I chewed those
verses and digested them. Nor did there seem to me to be
any other remedy to drive away the keenness of hunger
(_bulimia_) than to betake myself to the art of cookery.
_Apic._ What services did you render that schoolmaster?
_Ablig._ Such as Caesar rendered to the Republic. I was
everything to him. I was his counsellor, though he had
nothing to advise about; he had nothing secret from me,
not even in his personal habits. I used to pour water on
his hand, which he never used to wash himself. I served
him as his treasurer.
_Apic._ What treasure had he?
_Ablig._ He had a few sheets of the trashiest poems which
the moths used to eat away and barbarian mice gnawed at.
_Apic._ Nay, say learned mice, since they bit their teeth
into bad poems.
XVI
TRICLINIUM—_The Dining-room_
ARISTIPPUS, LURCO
This dialogue is connected with the two following
dialogues. For this contains descriptions of the master
of a feast and his dining-room, the next of the banquet
itself, and the third, drunkenness. It has two parts—the
introduction and description (_narratio_). Triclinium is
so called from having three dining-couches (_lectus_).
For, of old, those about to breakfast or dine were
accustomed to arrange couches for lying on, for the most
part three. _See_ Castilionius in book 6; Vitruvius, cap.
5; Baysius de Vasculis. Aristippus was the disciple of
Socrates, from whom was derived the Cyrenaic teaching.
For he lived in ease, sumptuously, voluptuously. He
sought out every luxury of perfumes, clothes, women, and
counted life happy in so far as it was full of pleasure.
παριόντα ποτε αὐτὸν λάχανα πλύνων Διογένης
ἔσκωψε καί φησιν: εἰ ταῦτα ἔμαθες προσφέρεοθαι
οὐκ ἂν τυράννων αὐλὰς ἐθεράπευες. Ὁ δέ, καὶ σύ, εἶπεν,
εἴπερ ᾔδεις ἀνθρώποις ὁμιλεῖν, οὐκ ἂν λάχανα ἔπλυνες.[68]
DIOG. LAERT. i. 68.
I. _The Introduction (Initium)_
_Arist._ Why are you so late getting up and, indeed,
still half-asleep?
_Lurc._ I am surprised that I have waked up at all the
whole of this day, since yesterday we were eating and
drinking.
_Arist._ Nay, as it appears, you were simply gorging,
gourmandising, and overwhelming yourself with sumptuous
dishes and wine. But where was it you were thus loading
your swift-sailing ship?
_Lurc._ At the house of Scopas, at a banquet
(_convivium_).
_Arist._ Nay, rather, according to the manner of the
Greeks, call it a συμπόσιον than by the Latin word
_convivium_.
_Lurc._ One brawler aroused another to speech. Olives and
sauces pricked and pinched the sated stomach, and would
not let the appetite get wearied out.
_Arist._ Pray tell us all the courses so that by hearing
of them I can imagine that I was there, and as if I were
drinking with you, as that man who ate two great loaves
of bread in a Spanish inn, and enjoyed the exhalation of
a roasted partridge, in place of further viands.
_Lurc._ Who could tell all? This would be a greater
undertaking than to have bought the food, or prepared it,
or what would have beaten everything in difficulty, to
have eaten it all up.
_Arist._ Let us sit down here in this willow-plantation,
by the bank of this little stream, and, since we are
tired, let us talk of your yesterday’s dining out,
instead of other things. The grass will serve us for
bolsters. Lean on that elm-tree.
_Lurc._ On the grass? Won’t the moisture harm us?
_Arist._ How stupid! moisture, when the dog-star is
rising!
_Lurc._ Formerly I refused; now my mind desires to tell
you yet more than you ask. You inquire from me as to
the banquet; you shall also hear as to the host and the
dining-room. You asked that I would speak; I will do
so that, soon perhaps, you will ask, proclaim, command
silence, as was the case with the Arabian flute-player
who was induced to sing for an _obolus_, but was only
brought to silence by receiving three.
_Arist._ Say as much as thou wishest of the feast; I
shall not be pained by it, since we are now sitting in
a shady place, and the goldfinch there accompanies thy
narrative, or at least will bring harmony into it, as
the slaves with the flute did into the speech of C.
Gracchus.[69]
II. _Narration—Description of Scopas_
_Lurc._ What was that story?
_Arist._ When you have finished your account of the
feast you shall have the story of the _Gracchi_, of the
_graculi_,[70] and the _Graeculi_.
_Lurc._ We were going for a walk by chance across the
market (_forum_), Thrasybulus and I. We happened to have
got more leisure than is usual with us. Scopas joined
us. When he had made his first salutations, and started
a suave conversation, Scopas began earnestly to entreat
us that we would, on the next day, which was yesterday,
go to his house. First we excused ourselves, the one for
one reason, the other for another; I, on account of an
important engagement with a magistrate (_praetor_), a
very irritable gentleman. But Scopas, a man who likes to
boast of his wealth, began an elaborate speech, as if his
life were in question. What need of further words? We
said yes, so that he should not continue to worry us.
_Arist._ Do you know why he arranged the banquet?
_Lurc._ What was it, pray, do you suppose?
_Arist._ He is indeed himself a rich man, well provided
with silver, clothes, and house-provisions. But he had
bought three gilded silver phials and six cups. These
would have lost their value to him, had he not invited
some guests to whom he might show them. For he believes
that it is in the ostentation of wealth that its pleasure
consists. He is driven on to profuse expenditure by his
wife, who calls it magnificence.
_Description of the Dining-hall_
_Lurc._ Yesterday, then, about mid-day we came together
to his dining-room.
_Arist._ What kind of a lunch was it?
_Lurc._ In the open air, in the cool shade. All was
splendidly prepared, decorated, polished up. Nothing
was lacking in elegance, splendour, and magnificence.
Immediately on entrance, our eyes and souls were
exhilarated by the most beautiful and most pleasant
sights. There was a great sideboard, full of beautiful
vases of all kinds, of gold, silver, crystal, glass,
ivory, myrrh-wood; also others of more common material,
tin, horn, bone, wood, shell, or earthenware, in which
art lent a merit to the commonness of the material,
for there were very many pieces of embossed work, all
brightly cleaned and polished; the glitter almost
dazzled the eyes. You might have seen there two great
silver wash-hand-basins with gilded borders. The middle
part together with the ornaments about it were of gold.
Every basin had its outlet whose bung was gilded. There
stood there also another water-basin of glass, similarly
with gilded pipe, as well as an earthenware wash-basin
varnished with red _sandarach_,[71] a piece of work of
the Spanish city of Malaca. Besides, there were phials of
every kind and two silver ones for the most generous kind
of wines.
_Arist._ From my own experience I prefer flasks of glass
or of shells, which they call stone-ware.
_Lurc._ What are you to do? Such is the nature of man! He
does not in these things seek so much convenience as the
opinion of being thought rich.
_Arist._ These very rich people pretty often seem so to
others whilst to themselves they seem poor. So there is
no end of bringing forward, and presenting, to the eyes
of others, their possessions. Especially is this so with
those who have no other kind of skill in which they can
trust. But proceed.
_Lurc._ The border of the sideboard was covered with a
shaggy carpet brought from Turkey. At a distance from
the sideboard there were placed two small tables with
quadrants and silver orbs. Every one had his salt-cellar,
knife, bread, and napkin. Under the sideboard stood a
refrigerator and large wine-decanters. Then they had
various kinds of seats, settles, double-seats, benches,
and the seat of the lady of the house, arranged so as
to fold up, a noteworthy piece of work with silken
upholstery, and provided with a foot-stool.
_Arist._ Lay the table now, and unfold the napkins, for
my vitals cry out for hunger.
_Lurc._ The dining-table was large. It was inlaid with
ancient mosaic work. It had belonged to the Prince
Dicæarchus.
_Arist._ O old table, what a different master is yours
now!
_Lurc._ He had bought the table at an auction sale at a
sufficiently high price, only because it had belonged to
the prince, and he would thus have something that had
been his. Water is given for the washing of hands. At
first there are great mutual refusings and invitations
and yielding by turns.
_Arist._ The same thing happened in all this yielding
of dignity, when each one made himself of less account
than the other, and exalted the other with the haughtiest
courteousness, whilst in reality every one thought
himself more important than all the rest.
_Lurc._ But the host, by his own right, allotted the
seats. Grace was said by a little boy briefly and
perfunctorily, but not without rhythm:—
Quod appositum est et apponetur, Christus benedicere dignetur.[72]
Each one unfolds his napkin and throws it over the left
shoulder. Then he cleans his bread with his knife, in
case he did not think it had been sufficiently cleaned by
the servant, for it had been placed before him with the
crust taken off.
_Arist._ Did you sit in ease?
_Lurc._ Never with more ease.
_Arist._ You couldn’t get a poor lunch. For the eatables
had been supplied to redundancy, so far as ever the
market had them; this I know.
_Lurc._ In no place has this more certainly happened.
But the very abundance palled. The director of the table
busied himself with laying knives and forks. Then came
in, with great pomp, the chief steward with a long band
of boys, younger and older, who bore away the dishes of
the first course.
XVII
CONVIVIUM—_The Banquet_
SCOPAS, SIMONIDES, CRITO, DEMOCRITUS, POLAEMON
Concerning Scopas, _see_ Cicero, book 2, _de Orat._ As to
Polaemon, _see_ Val. Max. bk. 6, cap. 11. There are three
kinds of banquets, είλαπίνη, a magnificent and splendid
banquet; γάμος, a nuptial banquet; and ἔρανος, when each
guest came at his own expense and brought his own food.
Homer links together those forms of banquets: εἰλαπίνη ἠὲ
γάμος· ἐπεὶ οὐκ ἔρανος τάδε γ’ ἐστί (_Odyssea_, i. 226).
The parts of this dialogue are these: Initium, apparatus,
finis. Apparatus contains two courses.
COURSES
{ _Cibus_ { Panis { Carnes
{ { Obsonia { Pultes
{ { Pisces
FIRST { _Potus_ { Vinum
{ { Aqua
{ { Cerevisia
{ { Pocula
{ Fructus
SECOND { Casei
{ Tragemata
I. _The Beginning (Initium)_
_Scop._ Where is our Simonides?
_Crit._ He said he would come immediately after he had
met a debtor of his in the market.
_Scop._ He does rightly. He will more easily get away
from a debtor than he would from a creditor.
_Crit._ How is this?
_Scop._ It is as in a victory, the victor imposes the
conditions, not the vanquished. The debtor comes away
from the creditor when he will, the creditor when the
debtor is willing. But have you not all met, as you
arranged, and left the seriousness of home, bringing with
you cheerfulness, wit, grace, pleasantness?
_Crit._ Clearly these things are so, I hope, and we will
be as M. Varro advises, an agreeable company.
_Scop._ Let the rest be my concern.
_Crit._ Here is Simonides coming!
_Scop._ Happy event!
_Sim._ All prosperity to you!
_Scop._ We have keenly desired you!
_Sim._ Ah, how boorish it all is! But you see I was
invited to lunch, not for a period of detention in
business. But have I really kept you waiting long?
_Scop._ No, indeed not.
_Sim._ Why did you not set to the meal without me? At
least you could have begun with the fruit which I am not
much given to eating.
_Scop._ Courteous words, but how could we sit down
without you?
II. _First Course—Bread_
_Crit._ Enough of civilities. Let us begin our
description. The best and lightest of bread! It is as
light in weight as a sponge. The wheat is soft as a
medlar. You must have an industrious miller.
_Scop._ Roscius has the mill in his charge.
_Sim._ Is he never hurled into it?
_Scop._ Far be such a fate from such a thrifty servant!
_Dem._ Pass me the coarse bread (made of unbolted flour).
_Sim._ And me the bread made of the middle quality of
foreign wheat.
_Scop._ Why do you wish that?
_Sim._ Because I have both heard and found from
experience that I eat less when the bread has not a fine
taste.
_Scop._ Here, boy, bring him common bread, and even the
black bread if he prefers. We will have the most pleasant
of meals, if every one shall take what most pleases him.
_Pol._ This bread, which you praise so much, is spongy,
watery; I prefer it thicker.
_Crit._ I indeed don’t dislike it spongy—so long as
it isn’t hastily made. But this also has cracks such
as cakes baked on the hearth are accustomed to have,
although, as is sufficiently clear, this came out of the
oven.
_Pol._ This black bread is both sour and full of chaff;
you would say that it was from flour of second-rate wheat.
_Scop._ So our husbandmen are accustomed to do with all
wheat which they bring hither; first to make it pungent
with the common, and to mix it with all kinds of seeds;
the taste then comes from the leaven being excessive.
_Pol._ No class of men are more deceptive than
husbandmen. They only act wrongly through ignorance.
_Crit._ This bread is not sufficiently fermented.
_Dem._ For to-day think thyself a Jew, one of those who,
by the ordinance of God, only feed on bread which is
unleavened.
_Crit._ And this, indeed, was because they were such very
bad men that the eating of swine was forbidden them,
than which nothing is more pleasing to the palate; nor
if taken moderately is anything more healthful. With
unleavened bread sauces must be eaten together with field
lettuce, which is extremely bitter.
_Pol._ All this has too much depth of meaning. Let us
leave the subject.
_Scop._ Yes, indeed, and the whole discussion about
bread! If there is so much difference of opinion about
what is eaten with bread, how much discord there will be
over every part of the menu of the whole meal!
_Crit._ It happens, forsooth, as Horace says:—
Tres mihi convivae prope dissentire videntur,
Poscentes vario multum diversa palato.[73]
_Fruits_
_Scop._ Bring those dishes and plates with the cherries,
plums, pomegranates, ripe fruit, and early ripe fruit.
_Pol._ Why did Varro say that the number of guests ought
not to exceed the number of the Muses, when the number
of the Muses is not settled? For some put the number at
three; others six; others nine.
_Crit._ He spoke as if it were established that
there were nine, and so it was commonly accepted.
Whence Diogenes made his joke at the expense of the
schoolmaster, who had only a small number of scholars in
the school, whilst he had the Muses painted on the walls.
The master, said he, has many scholars, if you reckon in
the Muses (σὺν ταῖς μοῦσαις).
_Dem._ But is it true that the Persians introduced into
Greece the fruit which they regarded as so deadly as to
be a pestilence to those against whom they were waging
war?
_Crit._ So I have heard.
_Dem._ How wonderful is the variety of products in the
different nature of soils!
_Crit._ India sends ivory, says Vergil,[74] the
effeminate Sabaeans their frankincense. Oh! look at those
Persian quinces!
_Sim._ This is a new kind of grafting which the ancients
did not know of. Reach me the bowl with the hard-skinned
figs, which are, as you know, early ripe.
_Scop._ Enough of the fruits! Let us be filled with more
healthful foods of the body.
_Crit._ What is, then, healthier?
_Scop._ Nothing, if to be health-giving and of good
taste are the same thing as in a mid-day dream.