ENTERTAINMENTS.
The man upon the creations of whose art the principal enjoyments of
Greek gourmands were based was the cook,[803] whose character and
achievements ought not perhaps to be entirely passed over. We are,
indeed, chiefly indebted for our information to the comic poets; but, in
spite of some little exaggeration, the likeness they have bequeathed to
us is probably upon the whole pretty exact.
-----
Footnote 803:
On famous Cooks see Max. Tyr. Dissert. v. 60. 83. Pollux, vi. 70, seq.
Athen. iii. 60.
-----
The Athenian cook was a singularly heterogeneous being, something
between the parasite and the professed jester; he was usually a poor
citizen, with all the pride of autochthoneïty about him, who considered
it indispensable to acquire, besides his culinary lore, a smattering of
many other kinds of knowledge, not only for the purpose of improving his
soups or ragouts, but in order, by the orations he pronounced in praise
of himself, to dazzle and allure such persons as came to the agora in
search of an artist of his class. Of course the principal source of his
oratory lay among pots and frying-pans, and the wonders effected by his
art. Philemon hits off with great felicity one of these worthies, who
desires to convey a lofty opinion of himself,—
“How strong is my desire ’fore earth and heaven,
To tell how daintily I cooked his dinner
’Gainst his return! By all Athena’s owls!
’Tis no unpleasant thing to hit the mark
On all occasions. What a fish had I—
And ah! how nicely fried! Not all bedevilled
With cheese, or browned atop, but though well done,
Looking alive, in its rare beauty dressed.
With skill so exquisite the fire I tempered,
It seemed a joke to say that it was cooked.
And then, just fancy now you see a hen
Gobbling a morsel much too big to swallow;
With bill uplifted round and round she runs
Half choking; while the rest are at her heels
Clucking for shares. Just so ’twas with my soldiers;
The first who touched the dish upstarted he
Whirling round in a circle like the hen,
Eating and running; but his jolly comrades,
Each a fish worshiper, soon joined the dance,
Laughing and shouting, snatching some a bit,
Some missing, till like smoke the whole had vanished.
Yet were they merely mud-fed river dabs:
But had some splendid scaros graced my pan,
Or Attic glaucisk, or, O saviour Zeus!
Kapros from Argos, or the conger eel,
Which old Poseidon exports to Olympos,
To be the food of gods, why then my guests
Had rivalled those above. I have, in fact,
The power to lavish immortality
On whom I please, or, by my potent art,
To raise the dead, if they but snuff my dishes!”[804]
-----
Footnote 804:
Athen. vii. 32.
-----
This honest fellow, in the opinion of Athenæus, exceeded in boasting
even that Menecrates of Syracuse, who for his pride obtained the surname
of Zeus; he was a physician, and used vauntingly to call himself the
arbiter of life to mankind. He is supposed to have possessed some
specific against epilepsy; but being afflicted with a vanity at least
equal to his skill, he would undertake no one’s cure unless he first
entered into an agreement to follow him round the country ever after as
his slave, which great numbers actually did. Nicostratos, of Argos, one
of the persons so restored, travelled in his train habited and equipped
like Heracles; others personated Asclepios, and Apollo, while Menecrates
himself enacted in this fantastic masquerade the part of Zeus; and, as
the actors say, he dressed the character well, wearing a purple robe, a
golden crown upon his head, sandals of the most magnificent description,
and bearing a sceptre in his hand.[805]
-----
Footnote 805:
Athen. vii. 33.
-----
But whatever might have been the conceit of our Syracusan physician,
there were those among the cooking race, who certainly lagged not far
behind him. They usually stunned such as came to hire them with reciting
their own praises, laying claim to as much science and philosophy as
would have sufficed to set up two or three sophists. In fact, to take
them at their word, there was nothing which they did not know, nothing
which they could not do. Painting they professed to comprehend as
profound connoisseurs, and, no doubt, the soles they fried tasted all
the better for the accomplishment. In astronomy, medicine, and geometry,
they appear to have made a still greater proficiency than Hudibras,
notwithstanding that—
“In mathematics he was greater
Than Tycho Brahe, or Erra Pater;
For he by geometric scale
Could take the size of pots of ale;
Discern by sines and tangents strait
If bread and butter wanted weight;
And wisely tell what hour o’ the day
The clock does strike by algebra.”
In all this he was a fool to the Athenian cooks; for, by the help of
astronomy, they could tell when mackerel was in season, and at what time
of the year a haddock is better than a salmon. From geometry they
borrowed the art of laying out a kitchen to the best advantage, and how
to hang up the gridiron in one place, and the porridge-pot in another.
To medicine it is easy to see how deeply they must have been indebted,
since it not only taught them what meats are wholesome, and what not,
but also enabled them by some sleight of art to diminish the appetite of
those voracious parasites, who when they dined out appeared to have
stomachs equal in capacity to the great tun of Heidelberg.[806]
-----
Footnote 806:
Athen. vii. 37.
-----
Many individuals, half guests, half parasites, used to extract
considerable matter for merriment out of the dinner materials, that they
might render themselves agreeable, and be invited again. Thus Charmos,
the Syracusan, used to convert every dish served at table into an
occasion for reciting poetical quotations or old proverbs, and
sometimes, perhaps, suffered the fish to cool while he was displaying
his erudition. He had always civil things to say both to shell-fish and
tripe, so that a person fond of flattery might have coveted to be
roasted, in order that his shade might be soothed with this kind of
incense, which even Socrates allowed was not an illiberal enjoyment. It
was, however, a common custom among parasites to make extracts from the
poets and carry them in portfolios to the tables of their patrons, where
they recited all such as appeared to be _à propos_. In this way the
above Charmos obtained among the people of Messina the reputation of a
learned man, and Calliphanes,[807] son of Parabrycon,[808] succeeded no
less ingeniously by copying out the first verses of various poems, and
reciting them, so that it might be supposed he knew the whole.
-----
Footnote 807:
Suidas in v. t. i. p. 1361. c.
Footnote 808:
Athen. i. 6. “Sic ut παράσιτος, et παραμασήτης vel παραμασύντης
convivam denotat invocatum, qui absque symbola ad convivium venit; sic
nomen παραβρύκων (à verbo βρύκω, mordeo, rodo, deglutio) eumdem habet
significatum.”—Scheigh. Animadv. t. vi. p. 54.
-----
Cleanthes, of Tarentum, always spoke at table in verse, so likewise did
the Sicilian Pamphilos; and these parasites, travelling about with
wallets of poetry on their backs, were everywhere welcomed and
entertained, which might with great propriety have been adduced by
Ilgen[809] among his other proofs of the imaginative character of the
Greeks.
-----
Footnote 809:
De Scol. Poes. p. 8.
-----
Archestratos, the Syracusan, belonged no doubt to this class. He
composed an epic poem on good eating, which commenced with recommending
that no company, assembled for convivial enjoyment, should ever exceed
four,[810] or at most five, otherwise he said they would rather resemble
a troop of banditti than gentlemen. It had probably escaped him, that
there were twenty-eight guests at Plato’s banquet. Antiphanes, after
observing that the parasites had lynx’s eyes to discover a good dinner
though never invited, immediately adds, that the republic ought to get
up an entertainment for them, upon the same principle that during the
games an ox[811] was slaughtered some distance from the course at
Olympia, to feast the flies, and prevent them from devouring the
spectators.
-----
Footnote 810:
Athen. i. 7.
Footnote 811:
Athen. i. 7. This ox was sacrificed to Zeus the Fly-Chaser, in order
to prevail on him to drive the swarms of insects, by which the
spectators were incommoded, beyond the Alpheios. Cf. Plin. Nat. Hist.
x. 40. ix. 34. Pausan. v. 14. i. viii. 26. 7. Ælian. De Nat. Animal.
v. 17. xi. 8.
-----
Besides Archestratos, there were several other celebrated gastronomers
among the ancients. Of these the principal were Timachidas, of Rhodes,
who wrote a poem in eleven books on good eating,[812] Noumenios, of
Heraclea, pupil to the physician Dieuches, Metreas, of Pitana, the
parodist Hegemon, of Thasos, surnamed the _Lentil_, by some reckoned
among the poets of the old comedy, Philoxenos, of Leucadia, and a second
Philoxenos, of Cythera, who composed his work in hexameter verse. The
former, after chaunting the eulogium of the kettle, comes nevertheless
to the conclusion at last, that superior merit belongs to the
frying-pan. He earnestly recommended truffles to lovers, but would not
have them touch the barbel. His anger burst forth with great vehemence
against those who cut in pieces fish which should be served up whole;
and, though he admits that a polypus may occasionally be boiled, it was
much better, he says, to fry it. From this man the Philoxenian cakes
derived their name; and he it is whom Chrysippos reproaches with half
scalding his fingers in the warm bath and gargling his throat with hot
water, in order that he might be able to swallow kabobs hissing from the
coals.[813] He likewise used, at the houses of his friends, to bribe the
cooks to bring up everything fiery hot, that he might help himself
before any one else could touch them. A kindred gourmand, in the poet
Krobylos, exclaims: “My fingers are insensible to fire like the Dactyls
of Mount Ida. And ah! how delightful it is to refresh my throat with the
crackling flakes of broiled fish! Oh I am in fact an oven, not a man!”
-----
Footnote 812:
Athen. i. 8. Suidas. v. Τιμαχίδας. t. i. p. 899, seq.
Footnote 813:
Athen. i. 9.
-----
According to Clearchos it was this same Philoxenos, who used to maraud
about rich men’s houses, followed by a number of slaves laden with wine,
vinegar, oil, and other seasonings. Wherever he smelled the best dinner
he dropped in unasked, and slipping slily among the cooks, obtained
their permission to season the dishes they were preparing, after which
he took his place among the guests where he fed like a Cyclops. Arriving
once at Ephesos, by sea, he found, upon inquiry in the market, that all
the best fish had been secured for a wedding feast. Forthwith he bathed,
and repairing to the house of the bridegroom, demanded permission to
sing the Epithalamium. Every one was delighted; they could do no less
than invite him to dinner. And “Will you come again to-morrow?” inquired
the generous host. “If there be no fish in the market,” replied
Philoxenos. It was this gourmand who wished nature had bestowed on man
the neck of the crane that the pleasure of swallowing might be
prolonged.[814]
-----
Footnote 814:
Suid. in v. Φιλοξ. t. ii. p. 1058. c. Athen. i. 10.
-----
Pithyllos, another parasite, surnamed “the Dainty,” not content with the
membrane which nature has spread over the tongue, superinduced
artificially a sort of mucous covering, which retained for a
considerable time the flavour of what he ate.[815] To prolong his
luxurious enjoyment as much as possible, he afterwards scraped away this
curious coating with a fish. Of all ancient gourmands he alone is said
to have made use of artificial finger-points, that he might be enabled
to seize upon the hottest morsels. An anecdote so good as to have given
rise to many modern imitations, is related of Philoxenos, of Cythera.
Dining one day with Dionysios, of Syracuse, he observed a large barbel
served up to the prince, while a very diminutive one was placed before
him. Upon this, taking up the little fish, he held it to his ear and
appeared to be listening attentively. Dionysios, expecting some humorous
extravagance, made a point of inquiring the meaning of this movement,
and Philoxenos replied, that happening just then to think of his
Galatea,[816] he was questioning the barbel respecting her. But as it
makes no answer, said he, I imagine they have taken him too young and
that he does not understand me. I am persuaded, however, that the old
fellow they have placed before your majesty must know all about it. The
king, amused by his ingenuity, immediately sent him the larger fish
which he soon questioned effectually.[817]
-----
Footnote 815:
Athen. i. 10. Suid. v. Πιθυλλ. t. ii. p. 526. c.
Footnote 816:
Making allusion perhaps to his love for Galatea, the mistress of
Dionysios. Athen. i. 11. Ælian. Var. Hist. xii. 44. Schol. Aristoph.
Plut. 290.
Footnote 817:
Athen. i. 11. See another anecdote of this gourmand in Ælian. Var.
Hist. x. 9.
-----
But the Athenians were not reduced to depend for amusement at table upon
the invention of these humble companions. They knew how, when occasion
required, to entertain themselves, and, in the exuberance of their
hilarity, descended for this purpose to contrivances almost infantine.
They posed each other with charades, enigmas, conundrums, and,
sometimes, in the lower classes of society, related stories of witches,
lamias, mormos, and other hobgoblins believed in by the vulgar of all
nations. Among persons engaged in public affairs the excitement of
political discussion was often, of course, intermingled with their more
quiet pleasures.[818] But with this we have, just now, nothing to do,
nor with the enigmas which we shall describe anon. There was another and
more elegant practice observed by the Greeks at convivial meetings,
which, though not peculiar to them, has nowhere else, perhaps, prevailed
to the same extent,—I mean the introduction of music and the singing of
songs,[819] light, graceful, and instinct with wit and gaiety, to the
barbitos or the lyre.
-----
Footnote 818:
Aristoph. Aves. 1189, sqq.
Footnote 819:
Sch. Aristoph. Eq. 403.
-----
Among the Greeks, generally, the love of music and poetry seemed to be a
spontaneous impulse of nature. Almost every act of life was accompanied
by a song,—the weaver at his loom, the baker at his kneading-trough, the
reaper, the “spinners and the knitters in the sun,” the drawer of water,
even the hard-working wight who toiled at the mill, had his peculiar
song, by the chaunting of which he lightened his labour. The mariner,
too, like the Venetian gondolier, sang at the oar, and the shepherd and
the herdsman, the day-labourer and the swineherd, the vintager and the
husbandman, the attendant in the baths, and the nurse beside the cradle.
It might, in fact, be said, that from an Hellenic village music arose as
from a brake in spring. Their sensibilities were tremblingly alive to
pleasure. There was elasticity, there was balm in their atmosphere, and
joy and freedom in their souls.—How could they do other than sing?
But, if music and poetry thus diffused their delights over the industry
of the laborious, it was quite natural that where men met solely for
enjoyment, these best handmaids of enjoyment should not be absent.
Accordingly, we find that while the goblet circulated, kindling the
imagination, and unbending the mind, the lyre was brought in and a song
called for. Nor was the custom of recent date. It prevailed equally in
the heroic ages, and, like many other features of Greek manners, derived
its origin from religion. For, in early times, men rarely met at a
numerous banquet, except on occasion of some sacrifice, when hymns in
honour of the gods constituted an important part of the ceremonies. Thus
Homer, describing the grand expiatory rites by which the Achæan host
sought to avert the wrath of Apollo, observes, that they made great
feasts, and celebrated the praises of the god amid their flowing
goblets.[820]
-----
Footnote 820:
Iliad, α. 492, sqq. Ilgen, Disq. de Scol. Poes. p. 55.
-----
Yet, though the theme of those primitive songs may have been at first
serious, it was, probably, not long before topics better adapted to
festive meetings obtained the preference. At all events, they soon came
to be in fashion. The first step appears to have been from the gods to
the heroes, whose achievements, being sometimes tinged with the
ludicrous, opened the door to much gay and lively description. And these
convivial pleasures,[821] so highly valued on earth, were, with great
consistency, transferred to Olympos, where the immortals themselves were
thought to heighten their enjoyments by songs and merriment.
-----
Footnote 821:
Conf. Odyss. θ 72, sqq. α. 154. 350.
-----
In the ages following, the art of enhancing thus the delights of social
intercourse, so far from falling into neglect, grew to be more than ever
cultivated. Even the greatest men, beginning from the Homeric Achilles,
disdained not to sing. They did not, says a judicious and learned
writer, consider it sufficient to perform deeds worthy of immortality,
or to be the theme of poets and musicians, or so far to cultivate their
minds as to be able to relish and appreciate the songs of others, but
included music within the circle of their own studies, as an
accomplishment without which no man could pretend to be liberally
educated. For this reason it was objected by Stesimbrotos, as a reproach
to Cimon, that he was ignorant of music, and every other gentlemanly
accomplishment held in estimation among the Greeks;[822] and even
Themistocles himself incurred the charge of rusticity, because, when
challenged at a party, he refused to play on the cithara.[823]
-----
Footnote 822:
Plut. Cim. § 4. Afterwards, however, we find Cimon represented as
singing with great skill. § 9.
Footnote 823:
Cicero, Tuscul. Quæst. i. 2. Cf. Ilgen. De Scol. Poes. p. 62.
-----
A different theory of manners prevailed among the Romans, who, like the
modern Turks, considered it unbecoming a gentleman to sing. But to the
Greeks, a people replete with gaiety and ardour, and whose amusements
always partook largely of poetry, music presented itself under a wholly
different aspect, and was so far from appearing a mean or sordid study,
that no branch of education was held in higher honour, or esteemed more
efficacious in promoting tranquillity of mind, or polish and refinement
of manners. The lyre is accordingly said, by Homer, to be a divine gift,
designed to be the companion and friend of feasts, where it proved the
source of numerous advantages. In the first place, persons too much
addicted to the bottle found in this instrument an ally against their
own failing, for, whether playing or listening, a cessation from
drinking was necessarily effected. Rudeness also and violence, and that
unbridled audacity commonly inspired by wine, were checked by music,
which, in their stead, inspired a pleasing exaltation of mind, and joy
free from all admixture of passion.[824]
-----
Footnote 824:
Athen. xiv. 24. Ilgen, Disq. De Scol. Poes. p. 64.
-----
It has already been observed that the convivial song soon divested
itself of its religious and sombre character; for, as parties are made
up of persons differing extremely in taste and temperament, it
necessarily happened that when each was required to sing, much variety
would be found in the lays, which generally assumed a festive and jocund
air. Hymns in honour of the gods were more sparingly introduced,[825]
nor was much stress laid on the praises of heroes;[826] the spirit of
joviality moulded itself into
Quips and cranks, and wanton wiles;
Nods and becks, and wreathed smiles.
-----
Footnote 825:
The hymn, for example, in honour of Pallas was, in all ages, sung.
Sch. Aristoph. Nub. 954.
Footnote 826:
Of Harmodios, for example, and Aristogeiton. Sch. Aristoph. Acharn.
942. See Ilgen, Disq. de Scol. Poes. p. 69.
-----
Every one poured forth what the whim of the moment inspired,—jokes,
love-songs, or biting satires, with the freedom and fertility of an
improvisatore.[827]
These convivial songs were divided by the ancients into several kinds,
with reference sometimes to their nature, sometimes to the manner in
which they were chaunted: the most remarkable they denominated Scolia,
or zig-zag songs,[828] for a reason somewhat difficult of explanation.
Several of the later Greek writers appear to have been greatly at a loss
to account for the appellation, which is, no doubt, a singular one; but
the learning and diligence of Ilgen[829] may be said to have fully
resolved this curious question. After determining the antiquity of the
Scolion, which Pindar[830] supposes to have been an invention of
Terpander, or, at least, the verses of the song, but which Ilgen dates
as far back as the heroic period, he observes, that the name itself was
known in very remote ages, since they formed a separate class among the
works of Pindar, and are mentioned by Aristophanes and Plato,[831] and
that, like the Cyclic chorus, it arose out of the circumstances under
which it was sung. For as this chorus was called Cyclic, or circular,
because chaunted by persons moving in a circle round the altar of
Bacchos, so the Scolion, or zig-zag song,[832] received its name from
the myrtle branch, or the cithara, to which it was sung, being passed
from one guest to another in a zig-zag[833] fashion, just as those who
possessed the requisite skill happened to sit at table.
-----
Footnote 827:
Conf. Hom. Hymn. in Herm. 52, sqq. Pind. Olymp. i. 24.
Footnote 828:
Poll. vi. 108, with the notes of Seber and Jungermann, t. v. p. 142.
Footnote 829:
Who has published a collection of these songs, accompanied by very
interesting and instructive notes. Σκολια· hoc est, Carmina Convivalia
Græcorum. Jenæ, 1798.
Footnote 830:
Apud Plut. de Musica, § 28.
Footnote 831:
Pind. Fragm. Dissen. t. i. p. 234, with the Commentary, t. ii. p.639,
sqq. Aristoph. Vesp. 1222, 1240. Acharn. 532. Pac. 1302. Plat. Gorg.
t. iii. p. 13. Bekk.
Footnote 832:
Suidas, v. σκολίον, t. ii. p. 759, e. sqq. Etym. Mag. 718, 35, sqq.
Eustath. ad Odyss. η. 276, 49.
Footnote 833:
Mr. Müller, however, disapproves of this etymology. “It is much more
likely,” he says, “that in the melody to which the scolia were sung,
certain liberties and irregularities were permitted, by which the
extempore execution of the song was facilitated.”—History of Greek
Literature, pt. i. chap. xiii. § 16, seq.
-----
To render this explanation perfectly intelligible, it will, perhaps, be
necessary to describe succinctly the whole process of singing in
company. At first, it has been conjectured, when manners were rude, and
the language still in its infancy, singing, like dancing, required no
great art, and was little more than those wild bursts of melody still
common among the improvisatori of Arabia and other Eastern countries,
but that from these humble beginnings lyrical poetry took its rise,
preserving still the freedom of its original state, and rising,
unshackled by the rigid laws of metre, to heights of sublimity and
grandeur beyond which no human composition ever soared. By degrees some
complex forms of verse obtained the preference,—such, for example, as
those of Sappho and Alcæos,—and fixed and definite laws of metre were
established.
The Scolion, however, always preserved something of its original
spontaneous character, at least in appearance, and the same thing may be
predicated of all their festive lays. But before they gave loose to
their gaiety, the deep religious sentiment which pervaded the whole
nation required a pæan, or hymn, to be sung in honour of the gods, and
in this every person present joined.[834] While thus engaged, each
guest, it is supposed, held in his hand a branch of laurel, the tree
sacred to Apollo.[835] To the pæan succeeded another air, which all
present sang in their turn, holding this time a branch of myrtle,[836]
which, like the laurel bough mentioned above, was called æsakos, or the
“branch of song.”[837] The singing commenced with the principal guest,
to whom the symposiarch or host delivered the Cithara[838] and æsakos,
demanding a song, which, according to the laws of the table, no one
could refuse. Having performed his part, the singer was, in turn,
entitled to call upon his neighbour, beginning on the right hand, and
delivering to him the Cithara and the myrtle branch. The second, when he
had sung, handed it then to the third, the third to the fourth, and so
on until the whole circle of the company had been made. It sometimes
happened, though not often, that among the guests an individual,
unskilled in instrumental music, was found, and, in this case, he sang
without accompaniment, holding the æsakos in his hand.[839]
-----
Footnote 834:
Plut. Symp. i. 1. Athen. xiv. 24.
Footnote 835:
Hesych. v. ᾄσακος, ap. Ilgen. De Scol. Poes. p. 154.
Footnote 836:
Sch. Aristoph. Nub. 1339, 1346.
Footnote 837:
Potter, Antiq. ii. 403.
Footnote 838:
Sch. Aristoph. Nub. 1337, seq.
Footnote 839:
Ilgen, De Scol. Poes. p. 156.
-----
The poets who had the honour thus to cheer the convivial hours of the
Greeks were, in remoter times, Simonides and Stesichoros, and, probably,
Anacreon, with others of the same grade;[840] and, if we may credit
Aristophanes, songs were also selected from the plays of Æschylus,
Sophocles, and Euripides, as among ourselves from Shakespeare, Beaumont
and Fletcher, or Ben Jonson. It may even be inferred that passages from
Homer himself[841] were sung on these occasions; or, if not sung, they
were certainly recited by rhapsodists introduced for the purpose into
the assembly, who, holding a laurel branch while thus engaged, probably
gave rise to the practice of passing round the myrtle bough. This
branch, therefore, whether of myrtle or laurel,[842] constituted a part
of a singer’s apparatus. The latter was originally chosen as sacred to
Apollo, the patron of music, and because it was also believed to be
endowed with something of prophetic power, the Pythoness eating its
leaves before she ascended the tripod, while it was the symbol of
ever-during song. Instead of the laurel, myrtle was afterwards
introduced, on account, probably, of its being sacred to Aphrodite,
whose praises were celebrated in those amatory songs common at feasts.
It may, likewise, have been considered an emblem of republican virtue,
since Harmodios and Aristogeiton concealed their swords in a myrtle
wreath.[843]
-----
Footnote 840:
Aristoph. Nub. 1358. Conf. Schol. ad Vesp. 1222.
Footnote 841:
Schol. Aristoph. Nub. 1367.
Footnote 842:
Dresig. de Rhapsodis. p. 7. sqq. ap. Ilgen, De Scol. Poes. p. 157.
Pind. Isthm. iv. 63.
Footnote 843:
Ilgen, De Scol. Poes. p. 159.
-----
To proceed, however, with the Scolia. These lays, like the rest, made
the circle of the company, though not by passing in an unbroken series
from man to man, but, as has already been said, from one skilful singer
to another. In fact, the chanting of the scolia was a kind of contest
which took place when all the other songs were concluded.[844] The
person who occupied the seat of honour chanted to the Cithara a song
containing the praises of some mortal or immortal, or the developement
of some moral precept or erotic subject, which was comprehended in a
small number of verses. When he had finished, he handed the Cithara and
myrtle, at his own discretion, to some other among the guests, and the
person thus challenged, who could not refuse without passing for an
illiterate clown, must at once take up the same subject, and, without
delay or premeditation, break forth into a song in the same metre and
number of verses, if possible; and if unfamiliar with the Cithara, he
could sing to the myrtle. The second singer now exercised his privilege
and called upon a third, who was expected to do as he had done; so that
very often the same idea underwent five or six transformations in the
course of the evening. When the first argument had thus made the circle
of the company, he who concluded had the right to start a new theme,
which received the same treatment as the first; so that sometimes, when
people were in a singing humour, air followed air, until eight or ten
subjects had received all the poetical ornaments which the invention of
those present could bestow upon them.
-----
Footnote 844:
Athen. xv. 49.
-----
But to sing without wine would have been insipid. I have said the
chanting of the scolia was a sort of contest, and, as he who contends
and obtains the victory looks naturally for a reward, so the successful
performer aspired to his, which, it must be owned, was not
inappropriate, consisting of a brimming bowl, called _odos_, or the “cup
of song,” at once a mark of honour and a reward of skill.[845] All these
particulars are inferable from the examples of the scolion, which still
remain; and Aristophanes in the “Wasps,” presents something like an
outline, though dim and obscure, both of the argument and the mode of
execution. He imagines a company of jolly fellows,[846] such as Theoros,
Æschines, Phanos, Cleon, Acestor, and a foreigner of the same kidney,
and represents them as engaged in performing certain scolia for their
own entertainment.
-----
Footnote 845:
Athen. xi. 110.
Footnote 846:
Vesp. 1220.
-----
But the idea we should form of this kind of song from the very comic
passage in the “Wasps” differs materially from the theoretic view of
Ilgen, since Philocleon constantly interrupts his son, terminating each
sentence for him in a manner wholly unexpected, and of course calculated
to excite laughter.
But though musical, the Greeks would not imitate the grasshoppers,[847]
who are said to sing till they starve; but, having accomplished the
circle above-mentioned, proceeded to other amusements which, though too
numerous to be described at length, must not be altogether passed over.
In the heroic ages the discovery had not been made that rest after meals
is necessary to digestion, which in later times was a received maxim,
and accordingly we find from the practice of the Phæacians,[848] who, if
an after-dinner nap had been customary, would certainly have taken it,
that the men of those times, instead of indulging in indolent repose out
of compliment to their stomachs, sallied forth to leap, to run, to
wrestle, and engage in other athletic sports, which by no means appear
to have impaired their health or their prowess. As civilisation
advances, however, excuses are found for laying aside the habits of
violent exercise. Science, in too many cases, fosters indolence and
pronounces what is fashionable to be wise. But to the race-course and
the wrestling-ring, sedentary, or at least indoor, pastimes succeed,
and, instead of overthrowing their antagonists on the palæstra-floor or
the greensward, men seek to subdue them at Kottabos, or on the
chess-board, or to ruin them at the card-table or in the billiard-room.
-----
Footnote 847:
Plato Phædr. t. i. p. 65.
Footnote 848:
Homer. Odyss. θ. 97, sqq. Eustath. p. 295, 43.
-----
The play of Kottabos,[849] invented in Sicily, soon propagated itself,
as such inventions do, throughout the whole of Greece, and got into
great vogue at Athens, where the lively temperament of the people
inclined them to indulge immoderately in whatever was convivial and gay.
The most usual form of the game was this,—a piece of wood like the
upright of a balance having been fixed in the floor or upon a stable
basis, a small cross-beam was placed on the top of it with a shallow
vessel like the basin of a pair of scales, at either end.
-----
Footnote 849:
Athen. xv. 2, sqq. xi. 22, 58, 75.—Suidas, v. κοταβίζειν. t. i. p.
1504, b. seq. Etym. Mag. 538. 13, sqq.
-----
Under each of these vessels stood a broad-mouthed vase, filled with
water, with a gilt bronze statue, called Manes, fixed upright in its
centre. The persons who played at the game, standing at some little
distance, cast, in turn, their wine, from a drinking-cup into one of the
pensile basins, which descending with the weight, struck against the
head of the statue, which resounded with the blow. The victor was he who
spilled least wine during the throw, and elicited most noise from the
brazen head. It was, in fact, in its origin a species of divination, the
object being to discover by the greater or less success obtained, the
place occupied by the player in his mistress’s affections. By an
onomatopœa the sound created by the wine in its projection was called
_latax_, and the wine itself _latagè_. Both the act of throwing and the
cup used were called _ankula_, from the word which expresses the
dexterous turn of the hand with which the skilful player cast his wine
into the scales.[850]
-----
Footnote 850:
Potter, ii. 405, 406.
-----
Our learned Archbishop Potter, who has not unskilfully abridged the
account of Athenæus, confounds the above with the _kottabos katactos_,
another form of the game described both by Pollux and Athenæus.[851] In
this the apparatus was suspended like a chandelier from the roof. It was
formed of brass, and a brazen vessel, called the skiff, was placed
beneath it. The player, standing at a little distance, with a long wand,
struck one end of the kottabos, which descending came in contact with
the skiff, or rather the manes within, and produced a hollow sound.
Occasionally the small vessels at the extremity of the kottabos were
brought down, as in the former game, by having wine cast into them.
Another variety required the skiff to be filled with water, upon which
floated a ball, an instrument like the tongue of a balance, a manes,
three myrtle boughs, and as many phials. In this the great art consisted
in striking some one of these with the kottabos, and whoever could sink
most of them won the game. The prize, on these occasions, was usually
one of those cakes called _pyramos_[852] or something similar; but
instead of these it was sometimes agreed, when women were present, that
the prize should be a kiss, as in our game of forfeits. Another kind of
kottabos, chiefly practised on those occasions which resembled our
christenings, when on the tenth day the child received its name, was a
contention of wakefulness, when the person who longest resisted sleep,
won the prize. Properly, however, kottabos was the amusement first
described; and so fashionable did it become, that persons erected
circular rooms expressly for the purpose, in order that the players
might take their stand at equal distances from the apparatus which stood
in the centre.[853]
-----
Footnote 851:
Pollux. vi. 100, sqq. Athen. xv. 4. Cf. Flor. Christian ad Aristoph.
Pac. 343.
Footnote 852:
Pollux. vi. 101.
Footnote 853:
Athen. xv. 7.
-----
It might, without any authority, be presumed that when people met
together for enjoyment they would derive the greater portion of it from
conversation, which would, of course, vary and slide
“From grave to gay, from lively to severe,”
according to the character or fluctuating humour of the company. The
Spartans, like all military people, were grievously addicted to jokes,
which among them supplied the place of that elegant badinage,
alternating with profound or impassioned discourse, familiar to the more
intellectual Athenians. The latter, however, though free from the
coarseness, possessed more than the mirthfulness of the Dorians, and in
the midst of their habits of business and application to philosophy,
knew better than any people how, amidst wine and good-eating, to unbend
and enjoy the luxury of careless trifling and an unwrinkled brow. While
some therefore retired to the kottabos-room, which occupied the place of
our billiard-room, others still sat clustered round the table,
extracting amusement from each other. Among these of course would be
found all such as excelled in the art of small talk, who could tell a
good story or anecdote, scatter around showers of witticisms, or give
birth to a pun. Some, like the Spartans, had a Welsh passion for
genealogies, and loved to run back over the history of the “Landed
Gentry” of old Hellas, to the time of Deucalion or higher; others coined
their wisdom and experience into fables, for which they exhibited an
almost Oriental fondness; while the greater number, like the princes in
the Arabian Nights, exercised their wits in propounding and resolving
difficult questions, enigmas, charades, anagrams, and conundrums.
But the principal classes into which these contrivances were divided
were two: _enigmas_ and _griphoi_,[854] the former comprehending all
those terminating in mere pleasure, the latter such questions and
riddles as involved within themselves the kernel of wisdom or
knowledge,[855] supposed to have been a dull and serious affair.
Casaubon,[856] however, vindicates it stoutly from this charge,
affirming that in the griphos the _utile_ was mingled with the _dulce_
in due proportion; so that it must, according to Horace’s opinion, have
borne away the palm from most literary inventions. In point of
antiquity, too, the riddle may justly boast; for, if to be old is to be
noble, it has “more of birth and better blood” even than the hungry
Dorians of the Peloponnesos, whom Mr. Mitchell prefers, on this account,
before all nations of Ionic race. Like everything good also it comes
from the East. The earliest mention of the riddle occurs in the book of
Judges,[857] where Samson, during his marriage-feast at Timnath,
perplexes his guests with the following riddle:
“Out of the eater came forth meat, and out of the strong came forth
sweetness;”
-----
Footnote 854:
Vid. Clem. Alexan. Protrep. i. 1. Diog. Laert. ii. 33.
Footnote 855:
Pollux. vi. 107.
Footnote 856:
Animadv. in Athen. x. 15. Cf. Scaliger, Poet. iii. 84, where the
distinction made by Pollux is explained.
Footnote 857:
Chap. xiv. vv. 14. 18. Chytræus, in his note on this passage, has
several excellent and learned remarks on the subject. Vid. Seber. ad
Poll. t. v. p. 141.
-----
To which they, being instructed by his wife, replied:
“What is sweeter than honey? and what is stronger than a lion?”
The word griphos, in its original acceptation, signified a fishing-net,
and hence by translation was employed to describe a captious or
cunningly contrived question, in which the wits of people were
entangled.[858] As the ancients delighted in this sort of intellectual
trifling they were at the pains to be very methodical about it, dividing
the riddle into several kinds, which Clearchos of Soli[859] made the
subject of a separate work. This writer, a sort of Greek D’Israeli,
defines the griphos to mean “a sportive problem proposed for solution on
condition, that the discovery of the sense should be attended by a
reward, and failure with punishment.” His description of the seven
classes could scarcely be rendered intelligible, and certainly not
interesting to the modern reader. It will be more to the purpose to
introduce two or three specimens, prefacing them by a few remarks.
-----
Footnote 858:
Pollux. vi. 108. Scalig. Poet. iii. 84.
Footnote 859:
Schol. Aristoph. Vesp. 20. Athen. x. 69.
-----
It has been above observed, that philosophical truths were often wrapped
up in these sportive problems, which purposely obscured, so as to afford
but dim and distant glimpses of the forms within, necessarily exercised
and sharpened the wit and induced keen and persevering habits of
investigation. The reward also and the penalty had the same tendency. A
crown, an extra junket, and the applause of the company, cheered the
successful Œdipos, while the lackwit who beat about the bush without
catching the owl, had to make wry faces over a cup of brine or pickle.
Theodectes, the sophist, a man distinguished for the excellence of his
memory, obtained reputation as a riddle-solver, and denominated such
questions the “springs of memory.”[860] But whatever the interrogatories
themselves may have been, the reward, to which their solution often led,
was rather a source of forgetfulness, consisting of a goblet of wine
which, when no interpreter could be found, passed to the
propounder.[861]
-----
Footnote 860:
Pollux. vi. 108.
Footnote 861:
Etym. Mag. 341, 35, sqq. Suidas. v. γρῖφος, t. i. p. 628, seq.
-----
The riddle was of course a mine of wealth to the comic poets, who could
not be supposed to forego the use of so admirable a contrivance to raise
expectation and beget surprise. But it is clear, from the examples still
preserved, that they oftener missed than hit. Antiphanes’s griphoi on
“bringing and not bringing;” on the “porridge-pot;” on a “tart,” &c.,
are poor things; but the following from the “Dream” of Alexis is good:
A. A thing exists which nor immortal is,
Nor mortal, but to both belongs, and lives
As neither god nor man does. Every day,
’Tis born anew and dies. No eye can see it,
And yet to all ’tis known.
B. A plague upon you!
you bore me with your riddles.
A. Still, all this
Is plain and easy.
B. What then can it be?
A. SLEEP—that puts all our cares and pains to flight.[862]
-----
Footnote 862:
Athen. x. 71.
-----
The following from Eubulos is not amiss:
A. What is it that, while young, is plump and heavy,
But, being full grown, is light, and wingless mounts
Upon the courier winds, and foils the sight?
B. The THISTLE’S BEARD; for this at first sticks fast
To the green seed, which, ripe and dry, falls off
Upon the cradling breeze, or, upwards puffed
By playful urchins, sails along the air.
Antiphanes, in his Sappho, introduces a very ingenious riddle, partly
for the purpose of offering a sarcastic explanation directed against the
orators:
There is a female which within her bosom
Carries her young, that, mute, in fact, yet speak,
And make their voice heard on the howling waves,
Or wildest continent. They will converse
Even with the absent, and inform the deaf.[863]
-----
Footnote 863:
Athen. x. 73.
-----
The poet introduces the “Lesbian maid,” explaining the riddle, and this
passage of the Athenian comic writer may be regarded as the original of
those fine lines in Ovid, which Pope has so elegantly translated:
Heaven first taught LETTERS for some wretch’s aid,
Some banish’d lover, or some captive maid,
They live, they speak, they breathe what love inspires,
Warm from the soul, and faithful to its fires,
The virgin’s wish without her fears impart,
Excuse the blush and pour out all the heart,
Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul,
And waft a sigh from Indus to the pole.
By this time, however, the reader will probably be of opinion, that we
have lingered long enough about the dinner-table and its attendant
pastimes. We shall therefore hasten the departure of the guests, who
after burning the tongues of the animals that had been sacrificed, to
intimate that whatever had been uttered was to be kept secret, offered
libations to Zeus, Hermes, and other gods, and took their leave, in
ancient times before sunset; but afterwards, as luxury and extravagance
increased, the morning sun often enabled them to dispense with
link-boys. Examples, indeed, of similar perversions of the night occur
in Homer and Virgil, but always among the reckless or effeminate in the
palaces of princes, whence, in all ages, the stream of immorality has
flowed downward upon society to disturb and pollute it. The company
assembled at Agathon’s, also, sit up all night in Plato; and
Aristophanes represents drunken men reeling home through the agora by
daylight.