Who, in a garden placed, plucked up the flowers,

One after one, and spent delightful hours;

But still his greedy appetite goes on,

And still he plucked till all the flowers were gone.

(From the "Hypsipyle" of Euripides, Frag. 754.)

But more, methinks, Socrates is here to be remembered, who adviseth us

to forbear those junkets which provoke those that are not hungry to eat;

as if by this he cautioned us to fly variety of meats. For it is variety

that in everything draws us on to use more than bare necessity requires.

This is manifest in all sorts of pleasures, either of the eye, ear, or

touch; for it still proposeth new provocatives; but in simple pleasures,

and such as are confined to one sort, the temptation never carries us

beyond nature's wants. In short, in my opinion, we should more patie

musician praise a disagreeing variety of notes, or a perfumer mixed

ointments, than a physician commend the variety of dishes; for certainly

such changes and turnings as must necessarily ensue will force us out of

the right way of health.

Philinus having ended his discourse, Marcion said: In my opinion, not

only those that separate profit from honesty are obnoxious to Socrates's

curse, but those also that separate pleasure from health, as if it were

its enemy and opposite, and not its great friend and promoter. Pain we

use but seldom and unwillingly, as the most violent instrument. But from

all things else, none, though he would willingly, can remove pleasure.

It still attends when we eat, sleep, bathe, or anoint, and takes care

of and nurses the diseased; dissipating all that is hurtful and

disagreeable, by applying that which is proper, pleasing, and natural.

For what pain, what want, what poison so quickly and so easily cures a

disease as seasonable bathing? A glass of wine, when a man wants it,

or a dish of palatable meat, presently frees us from all disturbing

particles, and settles nature in its proper state, there being as it

were a calm and serenity spread over the troubled humors. But those

remedies that are painful do hardly and by little and little only

promote the cure, every difficulty pushing on and forcing Nature. And

therefore let not Philinus blame us, if we do not make all the sail we

can to fly from pleasure, but more diligently endeavor to make pleasure

and health, than other philosophers do to make pleasure and honesty,

agree. Now, in my opinion, Philinus, you seem to be out in your first

argument, where you suppose the beasts use more simple food and are

more healthy than men; neither of which is true. The first the goats in

Eupolis confute, for they extol their pasture as full of variety and all

sorts of herbs, in this manner,

We feed almost on every kind of trees,

Young firs, the ilex, and the oak we crop:

Sweet trefoil fragrant juniper, and yew,

Wild olives, thyme,--all freely yield their store.

These that I have mentioned are very different in taste, smell, and

other qualities, and he reckons more sorts which I have omitted. The

second Homer skilfully refutes, when he tells us that the plague first

began amongst the beasts. Besides, the shortness of their lives

proves that they are very subject to diseases; for there is scarce any

irrational creature long lived, besides the crow and the chough; and

those two every one knows do not confine themselves to simple food, but

eat anything. Besides, you take no good rule to judge what is easy and

what is hard of digestion from the diet of those that are sick; for

labor and exercise, and even to chew our meat well, contribute very much

to digestion, neither of which can agree with a man in a fever. Again,

that the variety of meats, by reason of the different qualities of the

particulars, should disagree and spoil one another, you have no reason

to fear. For if Nature takes from dissimilar bodies what is fit and

agreeable, the diverse nourishment forces many and sundry qualities into

the mass and bulk of the body, applying to every part that which is meet

and fit; so that, as Empedocles words it,

The sweet runs to the sweet, the sour combines

With sour, the sharp with sharp, the salt with salt;

and after being mixed it is spread through the mass by the heat, the

proper parts are separated and applied to the proper members. Indeed,

it is very probable that such bodies as ours, consisting of parts of

different natures, should be nourished and built up rather of various

than of simple matter. But if by concoction there is an alteration made

in the food, this will be more easily performed when there are different

sorts of meat, than when there is only one, in the stomach; for similars

cannot work upon similars and the very contrariety in the mixture

considerably promotes the alteration of the weakened qualities. But if,

Philinus, you are against all mixture, do not chide Philo only for the

variety of his dishes and sauces, but also for using mixture in his

sovereign antidotes, which Erasistratus calls the gods' hands. Convince

him of absurdity and vanity, when he mixes herbs, metals, and animals,

and things from sea and land, in one potion; and recommend him to

neglect these, and to confine all physic to barley-broth, gourds, and

oil mixed with water. But you urge farther, that variety enticeth the

appetite that hath no command over itself. That is, good sir, cleanly,

wholesome, sweet, palatable, pleasing diet makes us eat and drink more

than ordinary. Why then, instead of fine flour, do not we thicken our

broth with coarse bran? And instead of asparagus, why do we not dress

nettle-tops and thistles; and leaving this fragrant and pleasant wine,

drink sour, harsh liquor that gnats have been buzzing about a long

while? Because, perhaps you may reply, wholesome feeding doth not

consist in a perfect avoiding of all that is pleasing, but in moderating

the appetite in that respect, and making it prefer profit before

pleasure. But, sir, as a mariner has a thousand ways to avoid a stiff

gale of wind, but when it is clear down and a perfect calm, cannot raise

it again; thus to correct and restrain our extravagant appetite is no

hard matter, but when it grows weak and faint, when it fails as to its

proper objects, then to raise it and make it vigorous and active again

is, sir, a very difficult and hard task. And therefore variety of viands

is as much better than simple food, which is apt to satisfy by being

but of one sort, as it is easier to stop Nature when she makes too much

speed than to force her on when languishing and faint. Besides, what

some say, that fullness is more to be avoided than emptiness, is not

true; but, on the contrary, fullness then only hurts when it ends in a

surfeit or disease; but emptiness, though it doth no other mischief,

is of itself unnatural. And let this suffice as an answer to what you

proposed. But you sparing men have forgot, that variety is sweeter and

more desired by the appetite, unless too sweet. For, the sight preparing

the way, it is soon assimilated to the eager receiving body; but that

which is not desirable Nature either throws off again, or keeps it in

for mere want. But pray observe this, that I do not plead for variety

in tarts, cakes, or custards;--those are vain, insignificant, and

superfluous things;--but even Plato allowed variety to those fine

citizens of his, setting before them onions, olives, leeks, cheese,

and all sorts of meat and fish, and besides these, allowed them some

comfits.

QUESTION II. WHY MUSHROOMS ARE THOUGHT TO BE PRODUCED BY THUNDER, AND

WHY IT IS BELIEVED THAT MEN ASLEEP ARE NEVER THUNDERSTRUCK.

AGEMACHUS, PLUTARCH, DOROTHEUS.

At a supper in Elis, Agemachus set before us very large mushrooms. And

when all admired at them, one with a smile said, These are worthy

the late thunder, as it were deriding those who imagine mushrooms are

produced by thunder. Some said that thunder did split the earth, using

the air as a wedge for that purpose, and that by those chinks those that

sought after mushrooms were directed where to find them; and thence it

grew a common opinion, that thunder engenders mushrooms, and not only

makes them a passage to appear; as if one should imagine that a shower

of rain breeds snails, and not rather makes them creep forth and be seen

abroad. Agemachus stood up stiffly for the received opinion, and told

us, we should not disbelieve it only because it was strange, for there

are a thousand other effects of thunder and lightning and a thousand

omens deduced from them, whose causes it is very hard, if not

impossible, to discover; for this laughed-at, this proverbial mushroom

doth not escape the thunder because it is so little, but because it

hath some antipathetical qualities that preserve it from blasting; as

likewise a fig-tree, the skin of a sea-calf (as they say), and that

of the hyena, with which sailors cover the ends of their sails. And

husbandmen call thunder-showers nourishing, and think them to be so.

Indeed, it is absurd to wonder at these things, when we see the most

incredible things imaginable in thunder, as flame rising out of

moist vapors, and from soft clouds such astonishing noises. Thus, he

continued, I prattle, exhorting you to inquire after the cause; and I

shall accept this as your club for these mushrooms.

Then I began: Agemachus himself helps us exceedingly towards this

discovery; for nothing at the present seems more probable than that,

together with the thunder, oftentimes generative waters fall, which take

that quality from the heat mixed with them. For the piercing pure parts

of the fire break away in lightning; but the grosser windy part, being

wrapped up in cloud, changes it, taking away the coldness and heating

the moisture, altering and being altered with it, affects it so that it

is made fit to enter the pores of plants, and is easily assimilated to

them. Besides, such rain gives those things which it waters a peculiar

temperature and difference of juice. Thus dew makes the grass sweeter to

the sheep, and the clouds from which a rainbow is reflected make those

trees on which they fall fragrant. And our priests, distinguishing it by

this, call the wood of those trees Iris-struck, fancying that Iris, or

the rainbow, hath rested on them. Now it is probable that when these

thunder and lightning showers with a great deal of warmth and spirit

descend forcibly into the caverns of the earth, these are rolled around,

and knobs and tumors are formed like those produced by heat and noxious

humors in our bodies, which we call wens or kernels. For a mushroom is

not like a plant, neither is it produced without rain; it hath no root

nor sprouts, it depends on nothing, but is a being by itself, having its

substance of the earth, a little changed and altered. If this discourse

seems frivolous, I assure you that such are most of the effects of

thunder and lightning which we see; and upon that account men think

them to be immediately directed by Heaven, and not depending on natural

causes.

Dorotheus the rhetorician, one of our company, said: You speak right,

sir, for not only the vulgar and illiterate, but even some of the

philosophers, have been of that opinion. I remember here in this town

lightning broke into a house and did a great many strange things. It let

the wine out of a vessel, though the earthen vessel remained whole; and

falling upon a man asleep, it neither hurt him nor blasted his clothes,

but melted certain pieces of silver that he had in his pocket, defaced

them quite, and made them run into a lump. Upon this he went to a

philosopher, a Pythagorean, that sojourned in the town, and asked

the reason; the philosopher directed him to some expiating rites, and

advised him to consider seriously with himself and go to prayers. And

I have been told, upon a sentinel at Rome, as he stood to guard the

temple, burned the latchet of his shoe, and did no other harm; and

several silver candlesticks lying in wooden boxes, the silver was melted

while the boxes lay untouched. These stories you may believe or not as

you please. But that which is most wonderful, and which everybody knows,

is this,--the bodies of those that are killed by thunderbolt never

putrefy. For many neither burn nor bury such bodies, but let them lie

above ground with a fence about them, so that every one may see the they

remain uncorrupted, confuted by this Euripides's Clymene, who says thus

of Phaeton,

My best beloved, but now he lies

And putrefies in some dark vale.

And I believe brimstone is called [Greek omitted] (DIVINE), because its

smell is like that fiery offensive scent which rises from bodies that

are thunderstruck. And I suppose that, because of this scent, dogs and

birds will not prey on such carcasses. Thus far have I gone; let him

proceed, since he hath been applauded for his discourse of mushrooms,

lest the same jest might be put upon us that was upon Androcydes the

painter. For when in his landscape of Scylla he painted fish the best

and most to the life of anything in the whole draught, he was said to

use his appetite more than his art, for he naturally loved fish. So

some may say that we philosophize about mushrooms, the cause of whose

production is confessedly doubtful, for the pleasure we take in eating

them....

And when I put in my suggestion, saying that it was as seasonable to

dispute about thunder and lightning amidst our banquets as it would be

in a comedy to bring in machines to throw out lightning, the company

agreed to omit all other questions relating to the subject, and desired

me only to proceed on this head, Why men asleep are never struck

with lightning. And I, though I knew I should get no great credit by

proposing a cause whose reason was common to other things, said thus:

Lightning is wonderfully piercing and subtile, partly because it rises

from a very pure substance, and partly because by the swiftness of its

motion it purges itself and throws off all gross earthy particles that

are mixed with it. Nothing, says Democritus, is blasted with lightning,

that cannot resist and stop the motion of the pure flame. Thus the close

bodies, as brass, silver, and the like, which stop it, feel its force

and are melted, because they resist; whilst rare, thin bodies, and such

as are full of pores, are passed through and are not hurted, as clothes

or dry wood. It blasts green wood or grass, the moisture within them

being seized and kindled by the flame. Now if it is true that men asleep

are never killed by lightning, from what we have proposed, and not from

anything else, we must endeavor to draw the cause. Now the bodies of

those that are awake are stiffer and more apt to resist, all the parts

being full of spirits; which as it were in a harp, distending and

screwing up the organs of sense, makes the body of the animal firm,

close, and compacted. But when men are asleep, the organs are let down,

and the body becomes rare, lax, and loose; and the spirits failing, it

hath abundance of pores, through which small sounds and smells do flow

insensibly. For in that case, there is nothing that can resist and by

this resistance receive any sensible impression from any objects that

are presented, much less from such as are so subtile and move so swiftly

as lightning. Things that are weak Nature shields from harm, fencing

them about with some hard, thick covering; but those things that cannot

be resisted do less harm to the bodies that yield than to those that

oppose their force. Besides, those that are asleep are not startled at

the thunder; they have no consternation upon them, which kills a great

many that are no otherwise hurt, and we know that thousands die with

the very fear of being killed. Even shepherds teach their sheep to run

together when it thunders, for whilst they lie scattered they die with

fear; and we see thousands fall, which have no marks of any stroke or

fire about them, their souls (as it seems), like birds, flying out of

their bodies at the fright. For many, as Euripides says,

A clap hath killed, yet ne'er drew drop of blood.

For certainly the hearing is a sense that is soonest and most vigorously

wrought upon, and the fear that is caused by an astonishing noise

raiseth the greatest commotion and disturbance in the body; from all

which men asleep, because insensible, are secure. But those that are

awake are oftentimes killed with fear before they are touched; the fear

contracts and condenses the body, so that the stroke must be strong,

because there is so considerable a resistance.

QUESTION III. WHY MEN USUALLY INVITE MANY GUESTS TO A WEDDING SUPPER.

SOSSIUS SENECIO, PLUTARCH, THEO.

At my son Autobulus's marriage, Sossius Senecio from Chaeronea and a

great many other noble persons were present at the same feast; which

gave occasion to this question (Senecio proposed it), why to a marriage

feast more guests are usually invited than to any other. Nay even those

law-givers that chiefly opposed luxury and profuseness have particularly

confined marriage feasts to a set number. Indeed, in my opinion, he

continued, Hecataeus the Abderite, one of the old philosophers, hath

said nothing to the purpose in this matter, when he tells us that those

that marry wives invite a great many to the entertainment, that many may

see and be witnesses that they being born free take to themselves wives

of the same condition. For, on the contrary, the comedians reflect on

those who revel at their marriages, who make a great ado and are pompous

in their feasts, as such who are taking wives with not much confidence

and courage. Thus, in Menander, one replies to a bridegroom that bade

him beset the house with dishes,...

Your words are great, but what's this to your bride?

But lest I should seem to find fault with those reasons others give,

only because I have none of my own to produce, continued he, I will

begin by declaring that there is no such evident or public notice given

of any feast as there is of one at a marriage. For when we sacrifice to

the gods, when we take leave of or receive a friend, a great many of our

acquaintance need not know it. But a marriage dinner is proclaimed by

the loud sound of the wedding song, by the torches and the music, which

as Homer expresseth it,

The women stand before the doors to see and hear.

(Iliad, xviii. 495.)

And therefore when everybody knows it, the persons are ashamed to omit

the formality of an invitation, and therefore entertain their friends

and kindred, and every one that they are anyway acquainted with.

This being generally approved, Well, said Theo, speaking next, let it be

so, for it looks like truth; but let this be added, if you please,

that such entertainments are not only friendly, but also kindredly, the

persons beginning to have a new relation to another family. But there

is something more considerable, and that is this; since by this marriage

two families join in one, the man thinks it his duty to be civil

and obliging to the woman's friends, and the woman's friends think

themselves obliged to return the same to him and his; and upon this

account the company is doubled. And besides, since most of the little

ceremonies belonging to the wedding are performed by women, it is

necessary that, where they are entertained, their husbands should be

likewise present.

QUESTION IV. WHETHER THE SEA OR LAND AFFORDS BETTER FOOD.

CALLISTRATUS, SYMMACHUS, POLYCRATES.

Aedepsus in Euboea, where the baths are, is a place by nature every

way fitted for free and gentle pleasures, and withal so beautified with

stately edifices and dining rooms, that one would take it for no other

than the common place of repast for all Greece. Here, though the earth

and air yield plenty of creatures for the service of men, the sea no

less furnisheth the table with variety of dishes, nourishing a store of

delicious fish in its deep and clear waters. This place is especially

frequented in the spring; for hither at this time of year abundance of

people resort, solacing themselves in the mutual enjoyment of all those

pleasures the place affords, and at spare hours pass away the time in

many useful and edifying discourses. When Callistratus the Sophist lived

here, it was a hard matter to dine at any place besides his house; for

he was so extremely courteous and obliging, that no man whom he invited

to dinner could have the face to say him nay. One of his best humors was

to pick up all the pleasant fellows he could meet with, and put them in

the same room. Sometimes he did, as Cimon one of the ancients used to

do, and satisfactorily treated men of all sorts and fashions. But he

always (so to speak) followed Celeus, who was the first man, it is said,

that assembled daily a number of honorable persons of distinction, and

called the place where they met the Prytaneum.

Several times at these public meetings divers agreeable discourses were

raised; and it fell out that once a very splendid treat, adorned with

all variety of dainties, gave occasion for inquiries concerning food,

whether the land or sea yielded better. Here when a great part of the

company were highly commanding the land, as abounding with many choice,

nay, an infinite variety of all sorts of creatures, Polycrates calling

to Symmachus, said to him: But you, sir, being an animal bred between

two seas, and brought up among so many which surround your sacred

Nicopolis, will not you stand up for Neptune? Yes, I will, replied

Symmachus, and therefore command you to stand by me, who enjoy the

most pleasant part of all the Achaean Sea. Well, says Polycrates, the

beginning of my discourse shall be grounded upon custom; for as of a

great number of poets we usually give one, who far excels the rest,

the famous name of poet; so though there be many sorts of dainties, yet

custom has so prevailed that the fish alone, or above all the rest, is

called [Greek omitted], because it is more excellent than all others.

For we do not call those gluttonous and great eaters who love beef as

Hercules, who after flesh used to eat green figs; nor those that love

figs, as Plato; nor lastly, those that are for grapes, as Arcesilaus;

but those who frequent the fish-market, and soonest hear the

market-bell. Thus when Demosthenes had told Philocrates that the gold

he got by treachery was spent upon whores and fish, he upbraids him as a

gluttonous and lascivious fellow. And Ctesiphon said pat enough, when a

certain glutton cried aloud in company that he should burst asunder: No,

by no means let us be baits for your fish! And what did he mean, do you

think, who made this verse,

You capers gnaw, when you may sturgeon eat?

And what, for God's sake, do those men mean who, inviting one another to

sumptuous collations, usually say: To-day we will dine upon the shore?

Is it not that they suppose, what is certainly true, that a dinner upon

the shore is of all others most delicious? Not by reason of the waves

the sea-coast would be content to feed upon a pulse or a caper?--but

because their table is furnished with plenty of fresh fish. Add to

this, that sea-food is dearer than any other. Wherefore Cato inveighing

against the luxury of the city, did not exceed the bounds of truth, when

he said that at Rome a fish was sold for more than an ox. For they

sell a small pot of fish for as much as a hecatomb of sheep and all the

accessories of sacrifice. Besides, as the physician is the best judge

of physic, and the musician of songs; so he is able to give the best

account of the goodness of meat who is the greatest lover of it. For I

will not make Pythagoras and Xenocrates arbitrators in this case; but

Antagoras the poet, and Philoxenus the son of Eryxis, and Androcydes

the painter, of whom it was reported that, when he drew a landscape of

Scylla, he drew fish in a lively manner swimming round her, because he

was a great lover of them. So Antigonus the king, surprising Antagoras

the poet in the habit of a cook, broiling congers in his tent, said

to him: Dost thou think that Homer was dressing congers when he writ

Agamemnon's famous exploits? And he as smartly replied: Do you think

that Agamemnon did so many famous exploits when he was inquiring who

dressed congers in the camp? These arguments, says Polycrates, I have

urged in behalf of fishmongers, drawing them from testimony and custom.

But, says Symmachus, I will go more seriously to work, and more like a

logician. For if that may truly be said to be a relish which gives meat

the best relish, it will evidently follow, that that is the best sort

of relish which gets men the best stomach to their meat. Therefore,

as those philosophers who were called Elpistics (from the Greek word

signifying hope, which above all others they cried up) averred that

there was nothing in the world which concurred more to the preservation

of life than hope, without whose gracious influence life would be a

burden and altogether intolerable; in the like manner that of all other

things may be said to get us a stomach to our meat without which all

meat would be unpalatable and nauseous. And among all those things the

earth yields, we find no such things as salt, which we can only have

from the sea. First of all, without salt, there would be nothing eatable

which mixed with flour seasons bread also. Neptune and Ceres had both

the same temple. Besides, salt is the most pleasant of all condiments.

For those heroes who like athletes used themselves to a spare diet,

banishing from their tables all vain and superfluous delicacies, to such

a degree that when they encamped by the Hellespont they abstained from

fish, yet for all this could not eat flesh without salt; which is a

sufficient evidence that salt is the most desirable of all relishes. For

as colors need light, so tastes require salt, that they may affect the

sense, unless you would have them very nauseous and unpleasant. For, as

Heraclitus used to say, a carcass is more abominable than dung. Now all

flesh is dead and part of a lifeless carcass; but the virtue of salt,

being added to it, like a soul, gives it a pleasing relish and a

poignancy. Hence it comes to pass that before meat men use to take sharp

things, and such as have much salt in them; for these beguile us into

an appetite. And whoever has his stomach sharpened with these sets

cheerfully and freshly upon all other sorts of meat. But if he begin

with any other kind of food, all on a sudden his stomach grows dull and

languid. And therefore salt doth not only make meat but drink palatable.

For Homer's onion, which, he tells us, they were used to eat before they

drank, was fitter for seamen and boatmen than kings. Things moderately

salt, by being pleasing to the mouth, make all sorts of wine mild and

palateable, and water itself of a pleasing taste. Besides, salt creates

none of those troubles which an onion does, but digests all other kinds

of meat, making them tender and fitter for concoction; so that at the

same time it is sauce to the palate and physic to the body. But all

other seafood, besides this pleasantness, is also very innocent for

though it be fleshly, yet it does not load the stomach as all other

flesh does, but is easily concocted and digested. This Zeno will avouch

for me, and Crato too, who confine sick persons to a fish diet, as of

all others the lightest sort of meat. And it stands with reason, that

the sea should produce the most nourishing and wholesome food, seeing it

yields us the most refined, the purest and therefore the most agreeable

air.

You say right, says Lamprias, but let us think of something else to

confirm what you have spoken. I remember my old grandfather was used to

say in derision of the Jews, that they abstained from most lawful flesh;

but we will say that that is the most lawful meat which comes from the

sea. For we can claim no great right over land creatures, which are

nourished with the same food, draw the same air, wash in and drink the

same water, that we do ourselves; and when they are slaughtered, they

make us ashamed of what we are doing, with their hideous cries; and then

again, by living amongst us, they arrive at some degree of familiarity

and intimacy with us. But sea creatures are altogether strangers to us,

and are born and brought up as it were in another world; neither does

their voice, look, or any service they have done us plead for their

life. For this kind of creatures are of no use at all to us, nor is

there any necessity that we should love them. But that place which we

inhabit is hell to them, and as soon as ever they enter upon it they

die.

QUESTION V. WHETHER THE JEWS ABSTAINED FROM SWINE'S FLESH BECAUSE THEY

WORSHIPPED THAT CREATURE, OR BECAUSE THEY HAD AN ANTIPATHY AGAINST IT.

CALLISTRATUS, POLYCRATES, LAMPRIAS.

After these things were spoken, and some in the company were minded

to say something in defence of the contrary opinion, Callistratus

interrupted their discourse and said: Sirs, what do you think of that

which was spoken against the Jews, that they abstain from the most

lawful flesh? Very well said, quoth Polycrates, for that is a thing I

very much question, whether it was that the Jews abstained from swine's

flesh because they conferred divine honor upon that creature, or because

they had a natural aversion to it. For whatever we find in their own

writings seems to be altogether fabulous, except they have some more

solid reasons which they have no mind to discover.

Hence it is, says Callistratus, that I am of an opinion that this nation

has that creature in some veneration; and though it be granted that

the hog is an ugly and filthy creature, yet it is not quite so vile nor

naturally stupid as a beetle, griffin, crocodile, or cat, most of which

are worshipped as the most sacred things by some priests amongst the

Egyptians. But the reason why the hog is had in so much honor and

veneration amongst them is, because as the report goes, that creature

breaking up the earth with its snout showed the way to tillage, and

taught them how to use the ploughshare, which instrument for that very

reason, as some say, was called HYNIS from [Greek omitted], A SWINE.

Now the Egyptians inhabiting a country situated low and whose soil is

naturally soft, have no need of the plough; but after the river Nile

hath retired from the grounds it overflowed, they presently let in all

their hogs into the fields, and they with their feet and snout break up

the ground, and cover the sown seed. Nor ought this to seem strange

to anyone, that there are in the world those that abstain from swine's

flesh on such an account as this; when it is evident that in barbarous

nations there are other animals had in greater honor and veneration for

lesser reasons, if not altogether ridiculous. For the field-mouse only

for its blindness was worshipped as a god among the Egyptians, because

they were of an opinion that darkness was before light and that the

latter had its birth from mice about the fifth generation at the new

moon; and moreover that the liver of this creature diminishes in the

wane of the moon. But they consecrate the lion to the sun, because the

lioness alone, of all clawed four-footed beasts, brings forth her young

with their eyesight; for they sleep in a moment, and when they are

asleep their eyes sparkle. Besides, they place gaping lions' heads for

the spouts of their fountains, because Nilus overflows the Egyptian

fields when the sign is Leo: they give it out that their bird ibis, as

soon as hatched, weighs two drachms, which are of the same weight with

the heart of a newborn infant; and that its legs being spread with the

bill an exact equilateral triangle. And yet who can find fault with

the Egyptians for these trifles, when it is left upon record that the

Pythagoreans worshipped a white cock, and of sea creatures abstained

especially from mullet and urtic. The Magi that descended from Zoroaster

adored the land hedgehog above other creatures but had a deadly spite

against water-rats, and thought that man was dear in the eyes of the

gods who destroyed most of them. But I should think that if the Jews had

such an antipathy against a hog, they would kill it as the magicians

do mice; when, on the contrary, they are by their religion as much

prohibited to kill as to eat it. And perhaps there may be some reason

given for this; for as the ass is worshipped by them as the first

discoverer of fountains, so perhaps the hog may be had in like

veneration, which first taught them to sow and plough. Nay, some

say that the Jews also abstain from hares, as abominable and unclean

creatures.

They have reason for that, said Lamprias, because a hare is so like an

ass which they detest; for in its color, ears, and the sparkling of its

eyes, it is so like an ass, that I do not know any little creature that

represents a great one so much as a hare doth an ass; except in this

likewise imitating the Egyptians, they suppose that there is something

of divinity in the swiftness of this creature, as also in its quickness

of sense; for the eyes of hares are so unwearied that they sleep with

them open. Besides, they seem to excel all other creatures in quickness

of hearing; whence it was that the Egyptians painted a hare's ear

amongst their other hieroglyphics, as an emblem of hearing. But the Jews

do hate swine's flesh, because all the barbarians are naturally fearful

of a scab and leprosy, which they presume comes by eating such kind of

flesh. For we may observe that all pigs under the belly are overspread

with a leprosy and scab; which may be supposed to proceed from an ill

disposition of body and corruption within, which breaks out through the

skin. Besides, swine's feeding is commonly so nasty and filthy, that

it must of necessity cause corruptions and vicious humors; for, setting

aside those creatures that are bred from and live upon dung, there is no

other creature that takes so much delight to wallow in the mire and

in other unclean and stinking places. Hogs' eyes are said to be so

flattened and fixed upon the ground, that they see nothing above them,

nor ever look up to the sky, except when turned upon their back they

turn their eyes upwards contrary to nature. Therefore this creature,

at other times most clamorous' when laid upon his back, is still, as

astonished at the unusual sight of the heavens; while the greatness of

the fear he is in (as it is supposed) is the cause of his silence. And

if it be lawful to intermix our discourse with fables, it is said that

Adonis was slain by a boar. Now Adonis is supposed to be the same with

Bacchus; and there are a great many rites in both their sacrifices which

confirm this opinion. Others will have Adonis to be Bacchus's paramour;

and Phanocles an amorous love-poet writes thus,

Bacchus on hills the fair Adonis saw,

And ravished him, and reaped a wondrous joy.

QUESTION VI. WHAT GOD IS WORSHIPPED BY THE JEWS.

SYMMACHUS, LAMPRIAS, MOERAGENES.

Here Symmachus, greatly wondering at what was spoken, says: What,

Lamprias, will you permit our tutelar god, called Evius, the inciter of

women, famous for the honors he has conferred upon him by madmen, to

be inscribed and enrolled in the mysteries of the Jews? Or is there

any solid reason that can be given to prove Adonis to be the same with

Bacchus? Here Moeragenes interposing, said: Do not be so fierce upon

him, for I who am an Athenian answer you, and tell you, in short, that

these two are the very same. And no man is able or fit to bring the

chief confirmation of this truth, but those amongst us who are initiated

and skilled in the triennial [Greek omitted] or chief mysteries of the

god. But what no religion forbids to speak of among friends, especially

over wine, the gift of Bacchus, I am ready at the command of these

gentlemen to disclose.

When all the company requested and earnestly begged it of him; first

of all (says he), the time and manner of the greatest and most holy

solemnity of the Jews is exactly agreeable to the holy rites of Bacchus;

for that which they call the Fast they celebrate in the midst of the

vintage, furnishing their tables with all sorts of fruits while they sit

under tabernacles made of vines and ivy; and the day which immediately

goes before this they call the day of Tabernacles. Within a few days

after they celebrate another feast, not darkly but openly, dedicated

to Bacchus, for they have a feast amongst them called Kradephoria, from

carrying palm-trees, and Thyrsophoria, when they enter into the temple

carrying thyrsi. What they do within I know not; but it is very probable

that they perform the rites of Bacchus. First they have little trumpets,

such as the Grecians used to have at their Bacchanalia to call upon

their gods withal. Others go before them playing upon harps, which they

call Levites, whether so named from Lusius or Evius,--either word agrees

with Bacchus. And I suppose that their Sabbaths have some relation to

Bacchus; for even now many call the Bacchi by the name of Sabbi, and

they make use of that word at the celebration of Bacchus's orgies. And

this may be discovered out of Demosthenes and Menander. Nor would it

be out of place, were any one to say that the name Sabbath was given to

this feast from the agitation and excitement [Greek omitted] which the

priests of Bacchus display. The Jews themselves witness no less; for

when they keep the Sabbath, they invite one another to drink till

they are drunk; or if they chance to be hindered by some more weighty

business, it is the fashion at least to taste the wine. Some perhaps may

surmise that these are mere conjectures. But there are other arguments

which will clearly evince the truth of what I assert. The first may be

drawn from their High-priest, who on holidays enters their temple with

his mitre on, arrayed in a skin of a hind embroidered with gold, wearing

buskins, and a coat hanging down to his ankles; besides, he has a great

many little bells depending from his garment which make a noise as he

walks. So in the nocturnal ceremonies of Bacchus (as the fashion is

amongst us), they make use of music, and call the god's nurses [Greek

omitted]. High up on the wall of their temple is a representation of the

thyrsus and timbrels, which surely suits no other god than Bacchus. Mor

ancients were wont to make themselves drunk, before the vine was known.

And at this day barbarous people who want wine drink metheglin, allaying

the sweetness of the honey by bitter roots, much of the taste of our

wine. The Greeks offered to their gods these temperate offerings or

honey-offerings, as they called them, because that honey was of a nature

quite contrary to wine. But this is no inconsiderable argument that

Bacchus was worshipped by the Jews, in that, amongst other kinds of

punishment, that was most remarkably odious by which malefactors were

forbid the use of wine for so long a time as the judge thought fit to

prescribe. Those thus punished....

(The remainder of the Fourth Book is wanting.)

QUESTION VII. WHY THE DAYS WHICH HAVE THE NAMES OF THE PLANETS ARE NOT

ARRANGED ACCORDING TO THE ORDER OF THE PLANETS, BUT THE CONTRARY. THERE

IS ADDED A DISCOURSE ON THE POSITION OF THE SUN.

QUESTION VIII. WHY SIGNET-RINGS ARE WORN CHIEFLY ON THE FOURTH FINGER.

QUESTION IX. WHETHER WE OUGHT TO CARRY IN OUR SEAL-RINGS EFFIGIES OF

GODS, OR THOSE OF WISE PERSONAGES.

QUESTION X. WHY WOMEN DO NOT EAT THE MIDDLE PART OF LETTUCE.

BOOK V.

What is your opinion at present, Sossius Senecio, of the pleasures of

mind and body, is not evident to me;

Because us two a thousand things divide,

Vast shady hills, and the rough ocean's tide.

("Iliad" i. 156)

But formerly, I am sure, you did not lean to nor like their opinion,

who will not allow the soul to have any proper agreeable pleasure, which

without respect to the body she desires for herself; but define that she

lives as a form assistant to the body, is directed by the passions of

it, and, as that is affected, is either pleased or grieved, or, like a

looking-glass, only receives the images of those sensible impressions

made upon the body. This sordid and debasing opinion is especially

confuted as follows; for at a feast, the genteel well-bred men after

supper fall upon some topic or another as second course, and cheer one

another by their pleasant talk. Now the body hath very little or no

share in this; which evidently proves that this is a particular

banquet for the soul, and that those pleasures are peculiar to her, and

different from those which pass to her through the body and are vitiated

thereby. Now, as nurses, when they feed children, taste a little of

their pap, and have but little pleasure therefrom, but when the infants

are satisfied, leave crying, and go to sleep, then being at their own

disposal, they take such meat and drink as is agreeable to their own

bodies; thus the soul partakes of the pleasures that arise from eating

and drinking, like a nurse, being subservient to the appetites of the

body, kindly yielding to its necessities and wants, and calming its

desires; but when that is satisfied and at rest, then being free from

her business and servile employment, she seeks her own proper pleasures,

revels on discourse, problems, stories, curious questions, or subtle

resolutions. Nay, what shall a man say, when he sees the dull unlearned

fellows after supper minding such pleasures as have not the least

relation to the body? They tell tales, propose riddles, or set one

another a-guessing at names, comprised and hid under such and such

numbers. Thus mimics, drolls, Menander and his actors were admitted into

banquets, not because they can free the eye from any pain, or raise

any tickling motion in the flesh; but because the soul, being naturally

philosophical and a lover of instruction, covets its own proper pleasure

and satisfaction, when it is free from the trouble of looking after the

body.

QUESTION I. WHY WE TAKE DELIGHT IN HEARING THOSE THAT REPRESENT THE

PASSIONS OF MEN ANGRY OR SORROWFUL, AND YET CANNOT WITHOUT CONCERN

BEHOLD THOSE WHO ARE REALLY SO AFFECTED?

PLUTARCH, BOETHUS.

Of this we discoursed in your company at Athens, when Strato the

comedian (for he was a man of great credit) flourished. For being

entertained at supper by Boethus the Epicurean, with a great many more

of the sect, as it usually happens when learned and inquisitive men meet

together, the remembrance of the comedy led us to this inquiry,--Why

we are disturbed at the real voices of men, either angry, pensive, or

afraid, and yet are delighted to hear others represent them, and imitate

their gestures, speeches, and exclamations. Every one in the company

gave almost the same reason. For they said, he that only represents

excels him that really feels, inasmuch as he doth not suffer the

misfortunes; which we knowing are pleased and delighted on that account.

But I, though it was not properly my talent, said that we, being by

nature rational and lovers of ingenuity, are delighted with and admire

everything that is artificially and ingeniously contrived. For as a bee,

naturally loving sweet things, seeks after and flies to anything that

has any mixture of honey in it; so man, naturally loving ingenuity and

elegancy, is very much inclined to accept and highly approve every word

or action that is seasoned with wit and judgement. Thus, if any one

offers a child a piece of bread, and at the same time, a little dog or

ox made in paste, we shall see the boy run eagerly to the latter; so

likewise if anyone, offers silver in the lump, and another a beast or

a cup of the same metal, he will rather choose that in which he sees a

mixture of art and reason. Upon the same account it is that a child

is much in love with riddles, and such fooleries as are difficult and

intricate; for whatever is curious and subtle doth attract and allure

mankind, as antecedently to all instruction agreeable and proper to it.

And therefore, because he that is really affected with grief or anger

presents us with nothing but the common bare passion, but in the

imitation some dexterity and persuasiveness appears, we are naturally

inclined to be disturbed at the former, whilst the latter delights us.

It is unpleasant to see a sick man, or one at his last gasp; yet with

content we can look upon the picture of Philoctetes, or the statue

of Jocasta, in whose face it is commonly said that the workmen mixed

silver, so that the brass might depict the face and color of one ready

to faint and expire. And this, said I, the Cyrenaics may use as a strong

argument against you Epicureans, that all the sense of pleasure which

arises from the working of any object on the ear or eye is not in those

organs, but in the intellect itself. Thus the continual cackling of a

hen or cawing of a crow is very ungrateful and disturbing; yet he

that imitates those noises well pleases the hearers. Thus to behold a

consumptive man is no delightful spectacle; yet with pleasure we

can view the pictures and statues of such persons, because the very

imitating hath something in it very agreeable to the mind, which allures

and captivates its faculties. For upon what other account, for God's

sake, from what external impression upon our organs, should men be moved

to admire Parmeno's sow so much as to pass it into a proverb? Yet it is

reported, that Parmeno being very famous for imitating the grunting of

a pig, some endeavoured to rival and outdo him. And when the hearers,

being prejudiced, cried out, Very well indeed, but nothing comparable to

Parmeno's sow; one took a pig under his arm and came upon the stage.

And when, though they heard the very pig, they still continued, This is

nothing comparable to Parmeno's sow; he threw his pig amongst them, to

show that they judged according to opinion and not truth. And hence it

is very evident, that like motions of the sense do not always raise like

affections in the mind, when there is not an opinion that the thing done

was not neatly and ingeniously performed.

QUESTION II. THAT THE PRIZE FOR POETS AT THE GAMES WAS ANCIENT.

At the solemnity of the Pythian names, there was a consult about taking

away all such sports as had lately crept in and were not of ancient

institution. For after they had taken in the tragedy in addition to the

three ancient, which were as old as the solemnity itself, the Pythian

piper, the harper, and the singer to the harp, as if a large gate were

opened, they could not keep out an infinite crowd of plays and musical

entertainments of all sorts that rushed in after him. Which indeed made

no unpleasant variety, and increased the company, but yet impaired the

gravity and neatness of the solemnity. Besides it must create a great

deal of trouble to the umpires, and considerable dissatisfaction to very

many, since but few could obtain the prize. It was chiefly agreed upon,

that the orators and poets should be removed; and this determination

did not proceed from any hatred to learning, but forasmuch as such

contenders are the most noted and worthiest men of all, therefore they

reverence them, and were troubled that, when they must judge every one

very deserving, they could not bestow the prize equally upon all. I,

being present at this consult, dissuaded those who were for removing

things from their present settled order, and who thought this variety

as unsuitable to the solemnity as many strings and many notes to an

instrument. And when at supper, Petraeus the president and director

of the sports entertaining us, the same subject was discoursed on, I

defended music, and maintained that poetry was no upstart intruder, but

that it was time out of mind admitted into the sacred games, and crowns

were given to the best performer. Some straight imagined that I intended

to produce some old musty stories, like the funeral solemnities of

Oeolycus the Thessalian or of Amphidamas the Chalcidean, in which they

say Homer and Hesiod contended for the prize. But passing by these

instances as the common theme of every grammarian, as likewise their

criticisms who, in the description of Patroclus's obsequies in Homer,

read [Greek omitted] ORATORS, and not [Greek omitted], DARTERS,

("Iliad," xxiii, 886.) as if Achilles had proposed a prize for the best

speaker,--omitting all these, I said that Acastus at his father Pelias's

funeral set a prize for contending poets, and Sibylla won it. At this,

a great many demanding some authority for this unlikely and incredible

relation, I happily recollecting myself produced Acesander, who in his

description of Africa hath this relation; but I must confess this is no

common book. But Polemo the Athenian's "Commentary of the Treasures of

the City Delphi" I suppose most of you have diligently perused, he being

a very learned man in the Greek Antiquities. In him you shall find that

in the Sicyonian treasure there was a golden book dedicated to the god,

with this inscription: Aristomache, the poetess of Erythraea, dedicated

this after she had got the prize at the Isthmian games. Nor is there any

reason, I continued, why we should so admire and reverence the Olympic

games, as if, like Fate, they were unalterable, and never admitted any

change since the first institution. For the Pythian, it is true, hath

had three or four musical prizes added; but all the exercises of the

body were for the most part the same from the beginning. But in the

Olympian all beside racing are late additions. They instituted some, and

abolished them again; such were the races of mules, either rode or in a

chariot as likewise the crown appointed for boys that were victor's in

the five contests. And, in short, a thousand things in those games are

mere novelties. At Pisa they had a single combat, where he that yielded

or was overcome was killed upon the place. But pray for the future

require no author for my story, lest I may appear ridiculous if amidst

my cups I should forget the name.

QUESTION III. WHY WAS THE PINE COUNTED SACRED TO NEPTUNE AND BACCHUS?

AND WHY AT FIRST THE CONQUEROR IN THE ISTHMIAN GAMES WAS CROWNED WITH A

GARLAND OF PINE, AFTERWARDS WITH PARSLEY, AND NOW AGAIN WITH PINE.

LUCANIUS, PRAXITELES.

This question was started, why the Isthmian garland was made of pine. We

were then at supper in Corinth, in the time of the Isthmian games, with

Lucanius the chief priest. Praxiteles the commentator brought this fable

for a reason; it is said that the body of Melicertes was found fixed to

a pine-tree by the sea; and not far from Megara, there is a place called

the Race of a Fair Lady, through which the Megarians say that Ino, with

her son Melicertes in her arms, ran to the sea. And when many put forth

the common opinion, that the pine-tree garland peculiarly belongs to

Neptune, Lucanius added that it is sacred to Bacchus too, but yet, for

all that, it might also be appropriated to the honor of Melicertes; this

started the question, why the ancients dedicated the pine to Neptune and

Bacchus. As for my part, it did not seem incongruous to me, for both the

gods seem to preside over the moist and generative principle; and almost

all the Greeks sacrifice to Neptune the nourisher of plants, and to

Bacchus the preserver of trees. Besides, it may be said that the pine

peculiarly agrees to Neptune, not, as Apollodorus thinks, because it

grows by the seaside, or because it loves a bleak place (for some give

this reason), but because it is used in building ships; for it together

with the like trees, as fir and cypress, affords the best and the

lightest timber, and likewise pitch and rosin, without which the

compacted planks would be altogether unserviceable at sea. To Bacchus

they dedicate the pine, because it seasons wine, for among the pines

they say the sweetest and most delicious grapes grow. The cause of this

Theophrastus thinks to be the heat of the soil; for pines grow most in

chalky grounds. Now chalk is hot, and therefore must very much conduce

to the concoction of the wine; as a chalky spring affords the lightest

and sweetest water; and if chalk is mixed with corn, by its heat it

makes the grains swell, and considerably increases the heap. Besides,

it is probable that the vine itself is bettered by the pine, for that

contains several things which are good to preserve wine. All cover the

insides of wine casks with rosin, and many mix rosin with wine, as the

Euboeans in Greece, and in Italy those that live about the river Po.

From the parts of Gaul about Vienna there is a sort of pitched wine

brought, which the Romans value very much; for such things mixed with

it do not only give it a good flavor, but make the wine generous,

taking away by their gentle heat all the crude, watery, and undigested

particles. When I had said thus much, a rhetorician in the company, a

man well read in all sorts of polite learning, cried out: Good Gods! was

it not but the other day that the Isthmian garland began to be made of

pine? And was not the crown anciently of twined parsley? I am sure in a

certain comedy a covetous man is brought in speaking thus:--

The Isthmian garland I will sell as cheap

As common wreaths of parsley may be sold.

And Timaeus the historian says that, when the Corinthians were marching

to fight the Carthaginians in the defence of Sicily, some persons

carrying parsley met them, and when several looked upon this as a

bad omen,--because parsley is accounted unlucky, and those that

are dangerously sick we usually say have need of parsley,--Timoleon

encouraged them by putting them in mind of the Isthmian parsley garland

with which the Corinthians used to crown the conquerors. And besides,

the admiral-ship of Antigonus's navy, having by chance some parsley

growing on its poop, was called Isthmia. Besides, a certain obscure

epigram upon an earthen vessel stopped with parsley intimates the same

thing. It runs thus:--

The Grecian earth, now hardened by the flame,

Holds in its hollow belly Bacchus blood;

And hath its mouth with Isthmian branches stopped.

Sure, he continued, they never read these authors, who cry up the pine

as anciently wreathed in the Isthmian garlands, and would not have it

some upstart intruder. The young men yielded presently to him, as being

a man of various reading and very learned.

But Lucanius, with a smile looking upon me, cried out: Good God! here's

a deal of learning. But others have taken advantage of our ignorance and

unacquaintedness with such matters, and, on the contrary, persuaded us

that the pine was the first garland, and that afterwards in honor of

Hercules the parsley was received from the Nemean games, which in a

little time prevailing, thrust out the pine, as if it were its right to

be the wreath; but a little while after the pine recovered its ancient

honor, and now flourishes in its glory. I was satisfied, and upon

consideration found that I had run across a great many authorities for

it. Thus Euphorion writes of Melicertes,

They mourned the youth, and him on pine boughs laid

Of which the Isthmian victors' crowns are made.

Fate had not yet seized beauteous Mene's son

By smooth Asopus; since whose fall the crown

Of parsley wreathed did grace the victor's brow.

And Callimachus is plainer and more express, when he makes Hercules

speak thus of parsley,

This at Isthmian sports

To Neptune's glory now shall be the crown;

The pine shall be disused, which heretofore

In Corinth's fields successful victors wore.

And besides, if I am not mistaken, in Procles's history of the Isthmian

games I met with this passage; at first a pine garland crowned the

conqueror, but when this game began to be reckoned amongst the sacred,

then from the Nemean solemnity the parsley was received. And this

Procles was one of Xenocrates's fellow-students at the Academy.

QUESTION IV. CONCERNING THAT EXPRESSION IN HOMER, [GREEK OMITTED]

("Iliad," ix. 203.)

NICERATUS, SOSICLES, ANTIPATER, PLUTARCH.

Some at the table were of opinion that Achilles talked nonsense when he

bade Patroclus "mix the wine stronger," adding this reason,

For now I entertain my dearest friends.

But Niceratus a Macedonian, my particular acquaintance, maintained that

[Greek omitted] did not signify pure but hot wine; as if it were derived

from [Greek omitted] and [Greek omitted] (LIFE-GIVING AND BOILING), and

it were requisite at the coming of his friends to temper a fresh bowl,

as every one of us in his offering at the altar pours out fresh wine.

But Sosicles the poet, remembering a saying of Empedocles, that in the

great universal change those things which before were [Greek omitted],

UNMIXED, should then be [Greek omitted], affirmed that [Greek omitted]

there signified [Greek omitted], WELL-TEMPERED, and that Achilles might

with a great deal of reason bid Patroclus provide well-tempered wine

for the entertainment of his friends; and it was absurd (he said) to use

[Greek omitted] for [Greek omitted] any more than [Greek omitted]

for [Greek omitted], or [Greek omitted] for [Greek omitted], for

the comparatives are very properly put for the positives. My friend

Antipater said that years were anciently called [Greek omitted], and

that the particle [Greek omitted] in composition signified greatness;

and therefore old wine, that had been kept for many years, was called by

Achilles [Greek omitted].

I put them in mind that some imagine that [Greek omitted], hot, is

signified by [Greek omitted], and that hotter means really faster, as

when we command servants to move themselves more hotly or in hotter

haste. But I must confess, your dispute is frivolous, since it is raised

upon this supposition that if [Greek omitted], signifies more pure wine,

Achilles's command would be absurd, as Zoilus of Amphipolis imagined.

For first he did not consider that Achilles saw Phoenix and Ulysses to

be old men, who are not pleased with diluted wine, and upon that account

forbade any mixture. Besides, he having been Chiron's scholar, and from

him having learned the rules of diet, he considered that weaker and more

diluted liquors were fittest for those bodies that lay at ease, and were

not employed in their customary exercise or labor. Thus with the other

provender he gave his horses smallage, and this upon very good reason;

for horses that lie still grow sore in their feet, and smallage is the

best remedy in the world against that. And you will not find smallage

or anything of the same nature given to any other horses in the whole

"Iliad." Thus Achilles, being experienced in physic, provided suitable

provender for his horses, and used the lightest diet himself, as the

fittest whilst he lay at ease. But those that had been wearied all day

in fight he did not think convenient to treat like those that had lain

at ease, but commanded more pure and stronger wine to be prepared.

Besides, Achilles doth not appear to be naturally addicted to drinking,

but he was of a haughty, inexorable temper.

No pleasant humor, no, soft mind he bore,

But was all fire and rage.

("Iliad," xx. 467.)

And in another place very plainly Homer says, that

Many a sleepless night he knew.

("Iliad," ix. 325.)

Now little sleep cannot content those that drink strong liquors; and in

his railing at Agamemnon, the first ill name he gives him is drunkard,

proposing his great drinking as the chiefest of his faults. And for

these reasons it is likely that, when they came, he thought his usual

mixture too weak and not convenient for them.

QUESTION V. CONCERNING THOSE THAT INVITE MANY TO A SUPPER.

PLUTARCH, ONESICRATES, LAMPRIAS THE ELDER.

At my return from Alexandria all my friends by turns treated me,

inviting all such too as were any way acquainted, so that our meetings

were usually tumultuous and suddenly dissolved; which disorders gave

occasion to discourses concerning the inconveniences that attend such

crowded entertainments. But when Onesicrates the physician in his

turn invited only the most familiar acquaintance, and men of the most

agreeable temper, I thought that what Plato says concerning the increase

of cities might be applied to entertainments. For there is a

certain number which an entertainment may receive, and still be an

entertainment; but if it exceeds that, so that by reason of the number

there cannot be a mutual conversation amongst all, if they cannot know

one another nor partake of the same jollity, it ceaseth to be such. For

we should not want messengers there, as in a camp, or boatswains, as in

a galley; but we ourselves should immediately converse with one another.

As in a dance, so in an entertainment, the last man should be placed

within hearing of the first.

As I was speaking, my grandfather Lamprias cried out: Then it seems

there is need of temperance not only in our feasts, but also in our

invitations. For methinks there is even an excess in kindness, when we

pass by none of our friends, but draw them all in, as to see a sight

or hear a play. And I think, it is not so great a disgrace for the

entertainer not to have bread or wine enough for his, guests, as not to

have room enough, with which he ought always to be provided, not only

for invited guests, strangers and chance visitants. For suppose he hath

not wine and bread enough, it may be imputed either to the carelessness

or dishonesty of his servants; but the want of room must be imputed to

the imprudence of the inviter. Hesiod is very much admired for beginning

thus,

A vast chaos first was made.

(Hesiod, "Theogony," 116.)

For it was necessary that there should be first a place and room

provided for the beings that were afterward to be produced; and not as

was seen yesterday at my son's entertainment, according to Anaxagoras's

saying,

All lay jumbled together.

But suppose a man hath room and provision enough, yet a large company

itself is to be avoided for its own sake, as hindering all familiarity

and conversation; and it is more tolerable to let the company have

no wine, than to exclude all converse from a feast. And therefore

Theophrastus jocularly called the barbers' shops feasts without wine;

because those that sit there usually prattle and discourse. But those

that invite a crowd at once deprive all of free communication of

discourse, or rather make them divide into cabals, so that two or three

privately talk together, and neither know nor look on those that sit, as

it were, half a mile distant.

Some took this way to valiant Ajax's tent,

And some the other to Achilles' went.

("Iliad," xi. 7.)

And therefore some rich men are foolishly profuse, who build rooms

big enough for thirty tables or more at once; for such a preparation

certainly is for unsociable and unfriendly entertainments, and such as

are fit for a panegyriarch rather than a symposiarch to preside over.

But this may be pardoned in those; for wealth would not he wealth,

it would be really blind and imprisoned, unless it had witnesses, as

tragedies would be devoid of spectators. Let us entertain few and often,

and make that a remedy against having a crowd at once. For those that

invite but seldom are forced to have all their friends, and all that

upon any account they are acquainted with together; but those that

invite frequently, and but three or four, render their entertainments

like little barks, light and nimble. Besides, the very reason why we ask

friends teaches us to select some out of the number. For as when we

are in want we do not call all together, but only those that can best

afford, help in that particular case,--when we would be advised, the

wiser part; and when we are to have a trial, the best pleaders; and

when we are to go a journey, those that can live pleasantly and are at

leisure,--thus to our entertainments we should only call those that

are at the present agreeable. Agreeable, for instance, to a prince's

entertainment will be the magistrates, if they are his friends, or

chiefest of the city; to marriage or birthday feasts, all their kindred,

and such as are under the protection of the same Jupiter the guardian of

consanguinity; and to such feasts and merry-makings as this those are

to be invited whose tempers are most suitable to the occasion. When we

offer sacrifice to one god, we do not worship all the others that belong

to the same temple and altar at the same time; but suppose we have three

bowls, out of the first we pour oblations to some, out of the second

to others and out of the third to the rest, and none of the gods take

distaste. And in this a company of friends may be likened to the company

of gods; none takes distaste at the order of the invitation, if it be

prudently managed and every one allowed a turn.

QUESTION VI. WHAT IS THE REASON THAT THE SAME ROOM WHICH AT THE

BEGINNING OF A SUPPER SEEMS TOO NARROW APPEARS WIDE ENOUGH AFTERWARDS.

After this it was presently asked, why the room which at the beginning

of supper seems too narrow for the guest is afterwards wide enough; when

the contrary is most likely, after they are filled with the supper. Some

said the posture of our sitting was the cause; for they sit when they

eat, with their full breadth to the table, that they may command it with

their right hand; but after they have supped, they sit more sideways,

and make an acute figure with their bodies, and do not touch the place

according to the superficies, if I may so say, but the line. Now as

cockal bones do not take up as much room when they fall upon one end

as when they fall flat, so every one of us at the beginning sitting

broadwise, and with a full face to the table, afterwards changes

the figure, and turns his depth, not his breadth, to the board. Some

attribute it to the beds whereon we sat, for those when pressed stretch;

as strait shoes after a little wearing have their pores widened, and

grow fit for--sometimes too big for--the foot. An old man in the company

merrily said, that the same feast had two very different presidents and

directors; in the beginning, Hunger, that is not in the least skilled in

ordering and disposing, but afterward Bacchus, whom all acknowledge to

be the best orderer of an army in the world. As therefore Epaminondas,

when the unskilful captains had led their forces into narrow

disadvantageous straits, relieved the phalanx that was fallen foul

on itself and all in disorder, and brought it into good rank and file

again; thus we in the beginning, being like greedy hounds confused

and disordered by hunger, the god (hence named the looser and the

dancesetter) settles us in a friendly and agreeable order.

QUESTION VII. CONCERNING THOSE THAT ARE SAID TO BEWITCH.

METRIUS FLORUS, PLUTARCH, SOCLARUS, PATROCLES, CAIUS.

A discourse happening at supper concerning those that are said to

bewitch or have a bewitching eye, most of the company looked upon it

as a whim, and laughed at it. But Metrius Florus, who then gave us a

supper, said that the strange events wonderfully confirmed the report;

and because we cannot give a reason for the thing, therefore to

disbelieve the relation was absurd, since there are a thousand things

which evidently are, the reasons of which we cannot readily assign. And,

in short, he that requires everything should be probable destroys all

wonder and admiration; and where the cause is not obvious, there we

begin to doubt, that is, to philosophize. So that they who disbelieve

all wonderful relations do in some measure take away all philosophy. The

cause why anything is so, reason must find out; but that a thing is so,

testimony is a sufficient evidence; and we have a thousand instances of

this sort attested. We know that some men by looking upon young children

hurt them very much, their weak and soft temperature being wrought upon

and perverted, whilst those that are strong and firm are not so liable

to be wrought upon. And Phylarchus tells us that the Thibians, the old

inhabitants about Pontus, were destructive not only to little children,

but to some also of riper years; for those upon whom they looked or

breathed, or to whom they spake, would languish and grow sick. And this,

likely, those of other countries perceived who bought slaves there.

But perhaps this is not so much to be wondered at, for in touching and

handling there is some apparent principle and cause of the effect. And

as when you mix other birds' wings with the eagles', the plumes waste

and suddenly consume; so there is no reason to the contrary, but that

one man's touch may be good and advantageous, and another's hurtful and

destructive. But that some, by being barely looked upon, are extremely

prejudiced is certain; though the stories are disbelieved, because the

reason is hard to be given.

True, said I, but methinks there is some small track to the cause of

this effect, if you come to the effluvia of bodies. For smell, voice,

breath, and the like, are effluvia from animal bodies, and material

parts that move the senses, which are wrought upon by their impulse. Now

it is very likely that such effluvia must continually part from

animals, by reason of their heat and motion; for by that the spirits

are agitated, and the body, being struck by those, must continually send

forth effluvia. And it is probable that these pass chiefly through the

eye. For the sight, being very vigorous and active, together with the

spirit upon which it depends, sends forth a strange fiery power; so

that by it men act and suffer very much, and are always proportionably

pleased or displeased, according as the visible objects are agreeable or

not. Love, that greatest and most violent passion of the soul, takes its

beginning from the eye; so that a lover, when he looks upon the fair,

flows out as it were, and seems to mix with her. And therefore why

should any one, that believes men can be affected and prejudiced by the

sight, imagine that they cannot act and hurt is well? For the mutual

looks of mature beauties, and that which comes from the eye, whether

light or a stream of spirits, melt and dissolve the lovers with a

pleasing pain, which they call the bittersweet of love. For neither by

touching or hearing the voice of their beloved are they so much wounded

and wrought upon, as by looking and being looked upon again. There is

such a communication, such a flame raised by one glance, that those must

be altogether unacquainted with love that wonder at the Median naphtha,

that takes fire at a distance from the flame. For the glances of a fair

one, though at a great distance, quickly kindle a fire in the lover's

breast. Besides every body knows the remedy for the jaundice; if they

look upon the bird called charadrios they are cured. For that animal

seems to be of that temperature and nature as to receive and draw away

the disease, that like a stream flows out through the eyes; so that the

charadrios will not look on one that hath the jaundice; he cannot endure

it, but turns away his head and shuts his eyes, not envying (as some

imagine) the cure he performs, but being really hurt by the effluvia

of the patient. And of all diseases, soreness of the eyes is the most

infectious; so strong and vigorous is the sight, and so easily does it

cause infirmities in another.

Very right, said Patrocles, and you reason well as to changes wrought

upon the body; but as to the soul, which in some measure exercises the

power of witchcraft, how can this cause any disturbance by the eye? Sir,

I replied, do not you consider that the soul, when affected, works upon

the body? Ideas of love excite lust, and rage often blinds dogs as

they fight with wild beasts. Sorrow, covetousness, or jealousy makes us

change color, and destroys the habit of the body; and envy more than any

passion, when fixed in the soul, fills the body full of ill humors,

and makes it pale and ugly; which deformities good painters in their

pictures of envy endeavor to represent. Now, when men thus perverted by

envy fix their eyes upon another, and these, being nearest to the soul,

easily draw the venom from it, and send out as it were poisoned darts,

it is no wonder, in my mind, if he that is looked upon is hurt. Thus the

biting of a dog when mad is most dangerous; and then the seed of a man

is most prolific, when he embraces one that he loves; and in general the

affections of the mind strengthen and invigorate the powers of the body.

And therefore people imagine that those amulets that are preservative

against witchcraft are likewise good and efficacious against envy; the

sight by the strangeness of the spectacle being diverted, so that it

cannot make so strong an impression upon the patient. This, Florus,

is what I can say; and pray sir, accept it as my club for this

entertainment.

Well, said Soclarus, but let us try whether the money be all good or

no; for, in my mind some of it seems brass. But if we admit the general

report about these matters to be true, you know very well that it

is commonly supposed that some have friends, acquaintance, and even

fathers, that have such evil eyes; so that the mothers will not show

their children to them, nor for a long time suffer them to be looked

upon by such; and how can the effects wrought by these proceed from

envy? But what, for God's sake, wilt thou say to those that are reported

to bewitch themselves?--for I am sure you have heard of such, or at

least read these lines:--

Curls once on Eutel's head in order stood;

But when he viewed his figure in a flood,

He overlooked himself, and now they fall...

For they say that this Eutelidas, appearing very delicate and beauteous

to himself, was affected with that sight and grew sick upon it, and lost

his beauty and his health. Now, pray sir, what reason can you find for

these wonderful effects?

At any other time, I replied, I question not but I shall give you full

satisfaction. But now, sir, after such a large pot as you have seen me

take, I boldly affirm, that all passions which have been fixed in the

soul a long time raise ill humors in the body, which by continuance

growing strong enough to be, as it were, a new nature, being excited

by any intervening accident, force men, though unwilling, to their

accustomed passions. Consider the timorous, they are afraid even of

those things that preserve them. Consider the pettish, they are

angry with their best and dearest friends. Consider the amorous and

lascivious, in the height of their fury they dare violate a Vestal. For

custom is very powerful to draw the temper of the body to anything that

is suitable to it; and he that is apt to fall will stumble at everything

that lies in his way. So it is no wonder that those that have raised

in themselves an envious and bewitching habit, if according to the

peculiarity of their passion they are carried on to suitable effects;

for when they are once moved, they do that which the nature of the

thing, not which their will, leads them to. For as a sphere must

necessarily move spherically, and a cylinder cylindrically, according to

the difference of their figures; thus his disposition makes an envious

man move enviously to all things; and it is likely they should chiefly

hurt their most familiar acquaintance and best beloved. And that fine

fellow Eutelidas you mentioned, and the rest that are said to overlook

themselves, may be easily and upon good rational grounds accounted for;

for, according to Hippocrates, a good habit of body, when at height, is

easily perverted, and bodies come to their full maturity do not stand

at a stay there, but fall and waste down to the contrary extreme. And

therefore when they are in very good plight, and see themselves look

much better than they expected, they gaze and wonder; but then their

body being nigh to change, and their habit declining into a worse

condition, they overlook themselves. And this is done when the effluvia

are stopped and reflected by the water rather than by any other

reflecting body; for this exhales upon them whilst they look upon it,

so that the very same particles which would hurt others must hurt

themselves. And this perchance often happens to young children, and the

cause of their diseases is falsely attributed to those that look upon

them.

When I had done, Caius, Florus's son-in-law, said: Then it seems you

make no more reckoning or account of Democritus's images, than of those

of Aegium or Megara; for he delivers that the envious send out images

which are not altogether void of sense or force, but full of the

disturbing and poisonous qualities of those from whom they come. Now

these being mixed with such qualities, and remaining with and abiding in

those persons that injure them both in mind and body; for this, I think,

is the meaning of that philosopher, a man in his opinion and expressions

admirable and divine. Very true, said I, and I wonder that you did not

observe that I took nothing from those effluvia and images but life and

will; lest you should imagine that, now it is almost midnight, I brought

in spectres and wise and understanding images to terrify and fright you;

but in the morning, if you please, we will talk of those things.

QUESTION VIII. WHY HOMER CALLS THE APPLE-TREE [GREEK OMITTED], AND

EMPEDOCLES CALLS APPLES [GREEK OMITTED].

PLUTARCH, TRYPHO, CERTAIN GRAMMARIANS, LAMPRIAS THE ELDER.

As we were at supper in Chaeronea, and had all sorts of fruit at the

table, one of the company chanced to speak these verses,

The fig-trees sweet, the apple-trees that bear

Fair fruit, and olives green through all the year.

("Odyssey," vii. 115.)

Upon this there arose a question, why the poet calls apple-trees

particularly [Greek omitted], BEARING FAIR FRUIT. Trypho the physician

said that this epithet was given comparatively in respect of the tree,

because, it being small and no goodly tree to look upon, bears fair

and large fruit. Somebody else said, that the particular excellencies

scattered amongst all other fruits are united in this alone. As to

the touch, it is smooth and polished, so that it makes the hand that

toucheth it odorous without defiling it; it is sweet to the taste, and

to the smell and sight very pleasing; and therefore there is reason that

it should be duly praised, as being that which congregates and allures

all the senses together.

This discourse pleased us indifferently well. But whereas Empedocles has

thus written,

Why pomegranates so late do thrive,

And apples give a lovely show [Greek omitted];

I guess the epithet to be given to pomegranates, because that at the end

of autumn, and when the heats begin to decrease, they ripen the fruit;

for the sun will not suffer the weak and thin moisture to thicken into

a consistence until the air begins to wax colder; therefore, says

Theophrastus, this only tree ripens its fruit best and soonest in

the shade. But in what sense the philosopher gives the epithet [Greek

omitted], to apples, I much question, since it is not his custom to try

to adorn his verses with varieties of epithets, as with gay and florid

colors. But in every verse he gives some description of the substance

and virtue of the subject which he treats; as when he calls the body

encircling the soul the mortal-surrounding earth; as also when he calls

the air cloud-gathering, and the liver much blooded.

When now I had said these things myself, certain grammarians affirmed,

that those apples were called [Greek omitted] by reason of their vigor

and florid manner of growing; for to blossom and flourish after an

extraordinary manner is by the poets expressed by the word [Greek

omitted]. In this sense, Antimachus calls the city of Cadmeans

flourishing with fruit; and Aratus, speaking of the dog-star Sirius,

says that he

To some gave strength, but others did ruin,

Their bloom;

calling the greenness of the trees and the blossoming of the fruit by

the name of [Greek omitted]. Nay, there are some of the Greeks also who

sacrifice to Bacchus surnamed [Greek omitted]. And therefore, seeing the

verdure and floridness chiefly recommend this fruit, philosophers call

it [Greek omitted]. But Lamprias our grandfather used to say that the

word [Greek omitted] did not only denote excess and vehemency, but

external and supernal; thus we call the upper frame of a door [Greek

omitted], and the upper portion of the house [Greek omitted]; and the

poet calls the outward parts of the victim the upper-flesh, as he calls

the entrails the inner-flesh. Let us see therefore, says he, whether

Empedocles did not make use of this epithet in this sense, seeing that

other fruits are encompassed with an outward rind and with certain

coatings and membranes, but the only cortex rind that the apple has is

a glutinous and smooth tunic (or core) containing the seed, so that the

part which can be eaten, and lies without, was properly called [Greek

omitted], that IS OVER or OUTSIDE OF THE HUSK.

QUESTION IX. WHAT IS THE REASON THAT THE FIG-TREE, BEING ITSELF OF A

VERY SHARP AND BITTER TASTE, BEARS SO SWEET FRUIT?

LAMPRIAS THE ELDER, AND OTHERS.

This discourse ended, the next question was about fig-trees, how so

luscious and sweet fruit should come from so bitter a tree. For the leaf

from its roughness is called [Greek omitted]. The wood of it is full of

sap, and as it burns sends forth a very biting smoke; and the ashes of

it thoroughly burnt are so acrimonious, that they make a lye extremely

detersive. And, which is very strange, all other trees that bud and bear

fruit put forth blossoms too; but the fig-tree never blossoms. And if

(as some say) it is never thunderstruck, that likewise may be attributed

to the sharp juices and bad temper of the stock; for such things are as

secure from thunder as the skin of a sea calf or hyena. Then said the

old man: It is no wonder that when all the sweetness is separated and

employed in making the fruit, that which is left should be bitter and

unsavory. For as the liver, all the gall being gathered in its proper

place, is itself very sweet; so the fig-tree having parted with its oil

and sweet particles to the fruit, reserves no portion for itself. For

that this tree hath some good juice, I gather from what they say of rue,

which growing under a fig-tree is sweeter than usual, and hath a sweeter

and more palatable juice, as if it drew some sweet particles from the

tree which mollified its offensive and corroding qualities; unless

perhaps, on the contrary, the fig-tree robbing it of its nourishment

draws likewise some of its sharpness and bitterness away.

QUESTION X. WHAT ARE THOSE THAT ARE SAID TO BE [GREEK OMITTED], AND WHY

HOMER CALLS SALT DIVINE?

FLORUS, APOLLOPHANES, PLUTARCH, PHILINUS.

Florus, when we were entertained at his house, put this question, What

are those in the proverb who are said to be about the salt and cummin?

Apollophanes the grammarian presently satisfied him, saying, by that

proverb were meant intimate acquaintance, who could sup together on salt

and cummin. Thence we proceeded to inquire how salt should come to be so

much honored as it is; for Homer plainly says,

And after that he strewed his salt divine

("Iliad," ix. 214.)

and Plato delivers that by man's laws salt is to be accounted most

sacred. And this difficulty was increased by the customs of the Egyptian

priests, who professing chastity eat no salt, no, not so much as in

their bread. For if it be divine and holy, why should they avoid it?

Florus bade us not mind the Egyptians, but speak according to the

Grecian custom on the present subject. But I replied: The Egyptians are

not contrary to the Greeks in this matter; for the profession of purity

and chastity forbids getting children, laughter, wine, and many other

very commendable and lawful things; and perhaps these priests

avoid salt, as being, according to some men's opinions, by its heat

provocative and apt to raise lust. Or they refuse it as the most

pleasant of all sauces, for indeed salt may be called the sauce of all

sauces; and therefore some call salt [Greek omitted]; because it makes

food, which is necessary for life, to be relishing and pleasant.

What then, said Florus, shall we say that salt is termed divine for

that reason? Indeed that is very considerable, for men for the most part

deify those common things that are exceeding useful to their necessities

and wants, as water, light, the seasons of the year; and the earth they

do not only think to be divine, but a very god. Now salt is as useful as

either of these, protecting in a way the food as it comes into the body,

and making it palatable and agreeable to the appetite. But consider

farther, whether its power of preserving dead bodies from rotting a long

time be not a divine property, and opposite to death; since it preserves

part, and will not suffer that which is mortal wholly to be destroyed.

But as the soul, which is our diviner part, connects the limbs of

animals, and keeps the composure from dissolution; thus salt applied to

dead bodies, and imitating the work of the soul, stops those parts that

were falling to corruption, binds and confines them, and so makes them

keep their union and agreement with one another. And therefore some of

the Stoics say, that swine's flesh then deserves the name of a body,

when the soul like salt spreads through it and keeps the parts from

dissolution. Besides, you know that we account lightning to be sacred

and divine, because the bodies that are thunderstruck do not rot for a

long time; what wonder is it then, that the ancients called salt as well

as lightning divine, since it hath the same property and power?

I making no reply, Philinus subjoined: Do you not think that that which

is generative is to be esteemed divine, seeing God is the principle of

all things? And I assenting, he continued: Salt, in the opinion of some

men, for instance the Egyptians you mentioned, is very operative that

way; and those that breed dogs, when they find their bitches not apt to

be hot, give them salt and seasoned flesh, to excite and arouse their

sleeping lechery and vigor. Besides, the ships that carry salt breed

abundance of mice; the females, as some imagine, conceiving without the

help of the males, only by licking the salt. But it is most probable

that the salt raiseth an itching in animals, and so makes them salacious

and eager to couple. And perhaps for the same reason they call a

surprising and bewitching beauty, such as is apt to move and entice,

[Greek omitted], SALTISH. And I think the poets had a respect to this

generative power of salt in their fable of Venus springing from the sea.

And it may be farther observed, that they make all the sea gods very

fruitful, and give them large families. And besides, there are no land

animals so fruitful as the sea ones; agreeable to which observation is

that verse of Empedocles,

Leading the foolish race of fruitful fish.

BOOK VI.

Timotheus the son of Conon, Sossius Senecio, after a full

enjoyment of luxurious campaign diet, being entertained by Plato in his

Academy, at a neat, homely, and (as Ion says) no surfeiting feast (such

an one as is constantly attended by sound sleep, and by reason of the

calm and pleasant state the body enjoys, rarely interrupted with dreams

and apparitions), the next day, being sensible of the difference, said

that those that supped with Plato were well treated, even the day after

the feast. For such a temper of a body not overcharged, but expedite and

fitted for the ready execution of all its enterprises, is without all

doubt a great help for the more comfortable passing away of the day. But

there is another benefit not inferior to the former, which does usually

accrue to those that sup with Plato, namely, the recollection of those

points that were debated at the table. For the remembrance of those

pleasures which arise from meat and drink is ungenteel, and short-lived

withal, and nothing but the remains of yesterday's smell. But the

subjects of philosophical queries and discourses, being always fresh

after they are imparted, are equally relished by all, as well by those

that were absent as by those that were present at them; insomuch that

learned men even now are as much partakers of Socrates's feasts as those

who really supped with him. But if things pertaining to the body had af

discourse, but of the great variety of dishes, sauces, and other costly

compositions that were prepared in the houses of Callias and Agatho. Yet

there is not the least mention made of any such things, though

questionless they were as sumptuous as possible; but whatever things

were treated of and learnedly discussed by their guests were left upon

record and transmitted to posterity as precedents, not only for

discoursing at table, but also for remembering the things that were

handled at such meetings.

QUESTION I. WHAT IS THE REASON THAT THOSE THAT ARE FASTING ARE MORE

THIRSTY THAN HUNGRY?

PLUTARCH AND OTHERS.

I present you with this Sixth Book of Table Discourses, wherein the

first thing that cometh to be discussed is an inquiry into the reason

why those that are fasting are more inclinable to drink than to eat.

For the assertion carries in it a repugnancy to the standing rules of

reason; forasmuch as the decayed stock of dry nourishment seems more

naturally to call for its proper supplies. Whereupon I told the company,

that of those things whereof our bodies are composed, heat only--or,

however, above all the rest--stands in continual need of such

accessions; for the truth of which this may be urged as a convincing

argument: neither air, water, nor earth requires any matter to feed

upon, or devours whatsoever lies next it; but fire alone doth. Hence

it comes to pass that young men, by reason of their greater share of

natural heat, have commonly greater stomachs than old men; whereas on

the contrary, old men can endure fasting much better, for this only

reason, because their natural heat is grown weaker and decayed. Just so

we see it fares with bloodless animals, which by reason of the want of

heat require very little nourishment. Besides, every one of us finds by

experience, that bodily exercises, clamors, and whatever other actions

by violent motion occasion heat, commonly sharpen our stomachs and get

us a better appetite. Now, as I take it, the most natural and principal

nourishment of heat is moisture, as it evidently appears from flames,

which increase by the pouring in of oil, and from ashes, which are of

the driest things in nature; for after the humidity is consumed by the

fire, the terrene and grosser parts remain without any moisture at all.

Add to these, that fire separates and dissolves bodies by extracting

that moisture which should keep them close and compact. Therefore, when

we are fasting, the heat first of all forces the moisture out of the

relics of the nourishment that remain in the body, and then, pursuing

the other humid parts, preys upon the natural moisture of the flesh

itself. Hence the body like clay becoming dry, wants drink more than

meat; till the heat, receiving strength and vigor by our drinking,

excites an appetite for more substantial food.

QUESTION II. WHETHER WANT OF NOURISHMENT CAUSETH HUNGER AND THIRST OR

THE CHANGE IN THE FIGURES OF THE PORES.

PHILO, PLUTARCH.

After these things were spoke, Philo the physician started the

first question, asserting that thirst did not arise from the want of

nourishment, but from the different transfiguration of certain passages.

For, says he, this may be made evident, partly from what we see happens

to those that thirst in the night, who, if sleep chance to steal upon

them, though they did not drink before, are yet rid of their thirst;

partly from persons in a fever, who, as soon as the disease abates or is

removed, thirst no more. Nay, a great many men, after they have bathed

or vomited, perceive presently that their thirst is gone; yet none

of these add anything to their former moisture, but only the

transfiguration of the pores causeth a new order and disposition. And

this is more evident in hunger; for many sick persons, at the same time

when they have the greatest need of meat, have no stomach. Others,

after they have filled their bellies, have the same stomachs, and their

appetites are rather increased than abated. There are a great many

besides who loathe all sorts of diet, yet by taking of a pickled olive

or caper recover and confirm their lost appetites. This doth clearly

evince, that hunger proceeds from some change in the pores, and not

from any want of sustenance, forasmuch as such kind of food lessens the

defect by adding food, but increases the hunger; and the pleasing relish

and poignancy of such pickles, by binding and straitening the mouth of

the ventricle, and again by opening and loosening of it, beget in it

a convenient disposition to receive meat, which we call by the name of

appetite.

I must confess this discourse seemed to carry in it some shadow of

reason and probability; but in the main it is directly repugnant to the

chief end of nature, to which appetite directs every animal. For that

makes it desire a supply of what they stand in need of, and avoid a

defect of their proper food. For to deny what especially makes a

living creature differ from an inanimate object as given to us for our

preservation and conservation (being as it were the receiver of what

supplements and agrees with the nature of our body) is the argument of

one who takes no account of natural law, especially when he would add

that the characteristic proceeds from the great or small size of the

pores. Besides, it is absurd to think that a body through the want of

natural heat should be chilled, and should not in like manner hunger

and thirst through the want of natural moisture and nourishment. And

yet this is more absurd, that Nature when overcharged should desire to

disburden herself, and yet should not require to be supplied on account

of emptiness, but on account of some condition or other, I know not

what. Moreover, these needs and supplies in relation to animals have

some resemblance to those we see in husbandry. There are a great many

like qualities and like provisions on both sides. For in a drought we

water our grounds, and in case of excessive heat, we frequently make use

of moderate coolers; and when our fruits are too cold, we endeavor to

preserve and cherish them, by covering and making fences about them. And

for such things as are out of the reach of human power, we implore

the assistance of the gods, that is, to send us softening dews, and

sunshines qualified with moderate winds; that so Nature, being always

desirous of a due mixture, may have her wants supplied. And for this

reason I presume it was that nourishment is called [Greek omitted] (from

[Greek omitted]), because it observes and preserves Nature. Now Nature

is preserved in plants, which are destitute of sense, by the favorable

influence of the circumambient air (as Empedocles says), moistening them

in such a measure as is most agreeable to their nature. But as for us

men, our appetites prompt us on to the chase and pursuance of whatsoever

is wanting to our natural temperament.

But now let us pass to the examination of the truth of the arguments

that seem to favor the contrary opinion. And for the first, I suppose

that those meats that are palatable and of a quick and sharp taste do

not beget in us an appetite, but rather bite and fret those parts that

receive the nourishment, as we find that scratching the skin causes

itching. And supposing we should grant that this affection or

disposition is the very thing which we call the appetite, it is probable

that, by the operation of such kind of food as this, the nourishment

may be made small, and so much of it as is convenient for Nature

severed from the rest, so that the indigency proceeds not from the

transmutation, but from the evacuation and purgation of the passages.

For sharp, tart, and salt things grate the inward matter, and by

dispersing of it cause digestion, so that by the concoctions of the old

there may arise an appetite for new. Nor does the cessation of thirst

after bathing spring from the different position of the passages, but

from a new supply of moisture received into the flesh, and conveyed

from thence to them also. And vomiting, by throwing off whatever is

disagreeable to Nature, puts her in a capacity of enjoying what is

most suitable for her. For thirst does not call for a superfluity of

moisture, but only for so much as sufficeth Nature; and therefore,

though a man had plenty of disagreeable and unnatural moisture, yet he

wants still, for that stops the course of the natural, which Nature is

desirous of, and hinders a due mixture and temperament, till it be cast

out and the pores receive what is most proper and convenient for them.

Moreover, a fever forces all the moisture downward; and the middle parts

being in combustion, it all retires thither, and there is shut up and

forcibly detained. And therefore it is usual with a great many to vomit,

by reason of the density of the inward parts squeezing out the moisture,

and likewise to thirst, by reason of the poor and dry state the rest of

the body is in. But after the violence of the distemper is once abated,

and the raging heat hath left the middle parts, the moisture begins to

disperse itself again; and according to its natural motion, by a speedy

conveyance into all the parts, it refreshes the entrails, softens and

makes tender the dry and parched flesh. Very often also it causes sweat,

and then the defect which occasioned thirst ceases; for the moisture

leaving that part of the body wherein it was forcibly detained, and

out of which it hardly made an escape, retires to the place where it is

wanted. For as it fares with a garden wherein there is a large well,--if

nobody draw thereof and water it, the herbs must needs wither and

die,--so it fares with a body; if all the moisture be contracted into

one part, it is no wonder if the rest be in want and dry, till it is

diffused again over the other limbs. Just so it happens to persons in a

fever, after the heat of the disease is over, and likewise to those

who go to sleep thirsty. For in these, sleep draws the moisture to the

middle parts, and equally distributes it amongst the rest, satisfying

them all. But, I pray, what kind of transfiguration of the passages

is this which causes hunger and thirst? For my part, I know no other

distinction of the pores but in respect of their number or that some of

them are shut, others open. As for those that are shut, they can neither

receive meat nor drink; and as for those that are open, they make an

empty space, which is nothing but a want of that which Nature requires.

Thus, sir, when men dye cloth, the liquor in which they dip it hath very

sharp and abstersive particles; which, consuming and scouring off all

the matter that filled the pores, make the cloth more apt to receive the

dye, because its pores are empty and want something to fill them up.

QUESTION III. WHAT IS THE REASON THAT HUNGER IS ALLAYED BY DRINKING, BUT

THIRST INCREASED BY EATING?

THE HOST, PLUTARCH, AND OTHERS.

After we had gone thus far, the master of the feast told the company

that the former points were reasonably well discussed; and waiving at

present the discourse concerning the evacuation and repletion of the

pores, he requested us to fall upon another question, that is, how it

comes to pass that hunger is stayed by drinking, when, on the contrary,

thirst is more violent after eating. Those who assign the reason to be

in the pores seem with a great deal of ease and probability, though not

with so much truth, to explain the thing. For seeing the pores in all

bodies are of different sorts and sizes, the more capacious receive both

dry and humid nourishment, the lesser take in drink, not meat; but the

vacuity of the former causes hunger, of the latter thirst. Hence it is

that men that thirst are never better after they have eaten, the pores

by reason of their straitness denying admittance to grosser nourishment,

and the want of suitable supply still remaining. But after hungry men

have drunk, the moisture enters the greater pores, fills the empty

spaces, and in part assuages the violence of the hunger.

Of this effect, said I, I do not in the least doubt, but I do not

approve of the reason they give for it. For if any one should admit

these pores (which some are so unreasonably fond of) to be in the flesh,

he must needs make it a very soft, loose, flabby substance; and that the

same parts do not receive the meat and drink, but that they run through

different canals and strainers in them, seems to me to be a very strange

and unaccountable opinion. For the moisture mixes with the dry food, and

by the assistance of the natural heat and spirits cuts the nourishment

far smaller than any cleaver or chopping-knife, to the end that every

part of it may be exactly fitted to each part of the body, not applied,

as they would have it, to little vessels and pores, but united and

incorporated with the whole substance. And unless the thing were

explained after this manner, the hardest knot in the question would

still remain unsolved. For a man that has a thirst upon him, supposing

he eats and doth not drink, is so far from quenching, that he does

highly increase it. This point is yet undiscussed. But mark, said I,

whether the positions on my side be clear and evident or not. In

the first place, we take it for granted that moisture is wasted and

destroyed by heat, that the drier parts of the nourishment qualified and

softened by moisture, are diffused and fly away in vapors. Secondly, we

must by no means suppose that all hunger is a total privation of dry,

and thirst of humid nutriment, but only a moderate one, and such as

is sufficient to cause the one or the other; for whoever are wholly

deprived of either of these, they neither hunger nor thirst, but die

instantly. These things being laid down as a foundation, it will be no

hard matter to find out the cause. For thirst is increased by eating

for this reason, because that meat by its natural siccity contracts and

destroys all that small quantity of moisture which remained scattered

here and there through the body; just as happens in things obvious to

our senses; we see the earth, dust, and the like presently suck in the

moisture that is mixed with them. Now, on the contrary, drink must of

necessity assuage hunger; for the moisture watering and diffusing itself

through the dry and parched relics of the meat we ate last, by turning

them into thin juices, conveys them through the whole body, and succors

the indigent parts. And therefore with very good reason Erasistratus

called moisture the vehicle of the meat; for as soon as this is mixed

with things which by reason of their dryness, or some other quality,

are slow and heavy, it raises them up and carries them aloft. Moreover,

several men, when they have drunk nothing at all, but only washed

themselves, all on a sudden are freed from a very violent hunger,

because the extrinsic moisture entering the pores makes the meat within

more succulent and of a more nourishing nature, so that the heat and

fury of the hunger declines and abates; and therefore a great many of

those who have a mind to starve themselves to death live a long time

only by drinking water; that is, as long as the siccity does not quite

consume whatever may be united to and nourish the body.

QUESTION IV. WHAT IS THE REASON THAT A BUCKET OF WATER DRAWN OUT OF A

WELL, IF IT STANDS ALL NIGHT IN THE AIR THAT IS IN THE WELL, IS, MORE

COLD IN THE MORNING THAN THE REST OF THE WATER?

A GUEST, PLUTARCH, AND OTHERS.

One of the strangers at the the table, who took wonderful great delight

in drinking of cold water, had some brought to him by the servants,

cooled after this manner; they had hung in the well a bucket full of the

same water, so that it could not touch the sides of the well, and there

let it remain, all night: the next day, when it was brought to table, it

was colder than the water that was newdrawn. Now this gentleman was an

indifferent good scholar, and therefore told the company that he had

learned this from Aristotle, who gives the reason of it. The reason

which he assigned was this. All water, when it hath been once hot, is

afterwards more cold; as that which is prepared for kings, when it hath

boiled a good while upon the fire, is afterwards put into a vessel set

round with snow, and so made colder; just as we find our bodies more

cool after we have bathed, because the body, after a short relaxation

from heat, is rarefied and more porous, and therefore so much the more

fitted to receive a larger quantity of air, which causes the alteration.

Therefore the water, when it is drawn out of the well, being first

warmed in the air, grows presently cold.

Whereupon we began to commend the man very highly for his happy memory;

but we called in question the pretended reason. For if the air wherein

the vessel hangs be cold, how, I pray, does it heat the water? If hot,

how does it afterwards make it cold? For it is absurd to say, that the

same thing is affected by the same thing with contrary qualities, no

difference at all intervening. While the gentleman held his peace, as

not knowing what to say; there is no cause, said I, that we should

raise any scruple concerning the nature of the air, forasmuch as we

are ascertained by sense that it is cold, especially in the bottom of a

well; and therefore we can never imagine that it should make the water

hot. But I should rather judge this to be the reason: the cold air,

though it cannot cool the great quantity of water which is in the well,

yet can easily cool each part of it, separate from the whole.

QUESTION V. WHAT IS THE REASON THAT PEBBLE STONES AND LEADEN BULLETS

THROWN INTO THE WATER MAKE IT MORE COLD?

A GUEST, PLUTARCH, AND OTHERS.

I suppose you may remember that what Aristotle says in his problems, of

little stones and pieces of iron, how it hath been observed by some that

being thrown into the water they temper and cool it. This is no more

than barely asserted by him; but we will go farther and inquire into

the reason of it, the discovery of which will be a matter of difficulty.

Yes, says I, it will so, and it is much if we hit upon it; for do but

consider, first of all, do not you suppose that the air which comes in

from without cools the water? But now air has a great deal more power

and force, when it beats against stones and pieces of iron. For they do

not, like brazen and earthen vessels, suffer it to pass through; but, by

reason of their solid bulk, beat it back and reflect it into the water,

so that upon all parts the cold works very strongly. And hence it comes

to pass that rivers in the winter are colder than the sea, because the

cold air has a power over them, which by reason of its depth it has not

over the sea, where it is scattered without any reflection. But it is

probable that for another reason thinner waters may be made colder

by the air than thicker, because they are not so strong to resist its

force. Now whetstones and pebbles make the water thinner by drawing to

them all the mud and other grosser substances that be mixed with it,

that so by taking the strength from it may the more easily be wrought

upon by the cold. But besides, lead is naturally cold, as that which,

being dissolved in vinegar, makes the coldest of all poisons, called

white-lead; and stones, by reason of their density, raise cold in the

bottom of the water. For every stone is nothing else but a congealed

lump of frozen earth, though some more or less than others; and

therefore it is no absurdity to say that stones and lead, by reflecting

the air, increase the coldness of the water.

QUESTION VI

WHAT IS THE REASON THAT MEN PRESERVE SNOW BY COVERING IT WITH CHAFF AND

CLOTHS?

A GUEST, PLUTARCH.

Then the stranger, after he had made a little pause, said: Men in love

are ambitious to be in company with their sweethearts; when that is

denied them, they desire at least to talk of them. This is my case

in relation to snow; and, because I cannot have it at present, I am

desirous to learn the reason why it is commonly preserved by the hottest

things. For, when covered with chaff and cloth that has never been at

the fuller's, it is preserved a long time. Now it is strange that the

coldest things should be preserved by the hottest.

Yes, said I, it is a very strange thing, if true. But it is not so; and

we cozen ourselves by presently concluding a thing to be hot if it have

a faculty of causing heat, when as yet we see that the same garment

causes heat in winter, and cold in summer. Thus the nurse in the

tragedy,

In garments thin doth Niobe's children fold,

And sometimes heats and sometimes cools the babes.

The Germans indeed make use of clothes only against the cold, the

Ethiopians only against the heat; but they are useful to us upon both

accounts. Why therefore should we rather say the clothes are hot,

because they cause heat, than cold, because they cause cold? Nay, if we

must be tried by sense, it will be found that they are more cold than

hot. For at the first putting on of a coat it is cold, and so is our

bed when we lie down; but afterwards they grow hot with the heat of

our bodies, because they both keep in the heat and keep out the cold.

Indeed, feverish persons and others that have a violent heat upon them

often change their clothes, because they perceive that fresh ones at the

first putting on are much colder; but within a very little time their

bodies make them as hot as the others. In like manner, as a garment

heated makes us hot, so a covering cooled keeps snow cold. Now that

which causes this cold is the continual emanations of a subtile spirit

the snow has in it, which spirit, as long as it remains in the snow,

keeps it compact and close; but, after once it is gone, the snow melts

and dissolves into water, and instantly loses its whiteness, occasioned

by a mixture of this spirit with a frothy moisture. Therefore at the

same time, by the help of these clothes, the cold is kept in, and the

external air is shut out, lest it should thaw the concrete body of the

snow. The reason why they make use of cloth that has not yet been at the

fuller's is this, because that in such cloth the hair and coarse flocks

keep it off from pressing too hard upon the snow, and bruising it. So

chaff lying lightly upon it does not dissolve the body of the snow,

besides the chaff lies close and shuts out the warm air, and keeps in

the natural cold of the snow. Now that snow melts by the evaporating of

this spirit, we are ascertained by sense; for when snow melts it raises

a vapor.

QUESTION VII. WHETHER WINE OUGHT TO BE STRAINED OR NOT.

NIGER, ARISTIO.

Niger, a citizen of ours, was lately come from school, after he had

spent some time under the discipline of a celebrated philosopher, but

had absorbed nothing but those faults by which his master was odious to

others, especially his custom of reproving and of carping at whatever

upon any occasion chanced to be discussed in company. And therefore,

when we were at supper one time at Aristio's, not content to assume to

himself a liberty to rail at all the rest of the preparations as too

profuse and extravagant, he had a pique at the wine too, and said

that it ought not to be brought to table strained, but that, observing

Hesiod's rule, we ought to drink it new out of the vessel. Moreover, he

added that this way of purging wine takes the strength from it, and robs

it of its natural heat, which, when wine is poured out of one vessel

into another, evaporates and dies. Besides he would needs persuade us

that it showed too much of a vain curiosity, effeminacy, and luxury,

to convert what is wholesome into that which is palatable. For as the

riotous, not the temperate, use to cut cocks and geld pigs, to make

their flesh tender and delicious, even against Nature; just so (if we

may use a metaphor, says he) those that strain wine geld and emasculate

it, whilst their squeamish stomachs will neither suffer them to drink

pure wine, nor their intemperance to drink moderately. Therefore they

make use of this expedient, to the end that it may render the desire

they have of drinking plentifully more excusable. So they take all the

strength from the wine, leaving the palatableness still: as we use to

deal with those with whose constitution cold water does not agree, to

boil it for them. For they certainly take off all the strength from the

wine, by straining of it. And this is a great argument, that the wine

deads, grows flat, and loses its virtue, when it is separated from the

lees, as from its root and stock; for the ancients for very good reason

called wine lees, as we use to signify a man by his head or soul, as

the principal part of him. So in Greek, grape-gatherers are said [Greek

omitted], the word being derived from [Greek omitted], which signifies

lees; and Homer in one place calls the fruit of the wine [Greek

omitted], and the wine itself high-colored and red,--not pale and

yellow, such as Aristio gives us to supper, after all the goodness is

purged out of it.

Then Aristio smiling presently replied: Sir, the wine I bring to table

does not look so pale and lifeless as you would have it: but it appears

only in the cup to be mild and well qualified. But for your part, you

would glut yourself with night wine, which raises melancholy vapors; and

upon this account you cry out against purgation, which, by carrying off

whatever might cause melancholy or load men's stomachs, and make them

drunk or sick, makes it mild and pleasant to those that drink it, such

as heroes (as Homer tells us) were formerly wont to drink. And it

was not dark wine which he called [Greek omitted], but clear and

transparent; for otherwise he would never have named brass [Greek

omitted], after characterizing it as man-exalting and resplendent.

Therefore as the wise Anacharsis, discommending some things that the

Grecians enjoined, commended their coals, because they leave the smoke

without doors, and bring the fire into the house; so you judicious men

might blame me for some other reason than this. But what hurt, I pray,

have I done to the wine, by taking from it a turbulent and noisome

quality, and giving it a better taste, though a paler color? Nor have

I brought you wine to the table which, like a sword, hath lost its edge

and vigorous relish, but such as is only purged of its dregs and filth.

But you will say that wine not strained hath a great deal more strength.

Why so, my friend? One that is frantic and distracted has more strength

than a man in his wits; but when, by the help of hellebore or some other

fit diet, he is come to himself, that rage and frenzy leave him

and quite vanish, and the true use of his reason and health of body

presently comes into its place. In like manner, purging of wine takes

from it all the strength that inflames and enrages the mind, and gives

it instead thereof a mild and wholesome temper; and I think there is a

great deal of difference between gaudiness and cleanliness. For women,

while they paint, perfume, and adorn themselves with jewels and purple

robes, are accounted gaudy and profuse; yet nobody will find fault with

them for washing their faces, anointing themselves, or platting their

hair. Homer very neatly expresses the difference of these two habits,

where he brings in Juno dressing herself:--

With sweet ambrosia first she washed her skin,

And after did anoint herself with oil.

("Iliad," xiv. 170.)

So much was allowable, being no more than a careful cleanliness. But

when she comes to call for her golden buttons, her curiously wrought

earrings, and last of all puts on her bewitching girdle, this appears

to be an extravagant and idle curiosity, and betrays too much of

wantonness, which by no means becomes a married woman. Just so they that

sophisticate wine by mixing it with aloes, cinnamon, or saffron bring it

to the table like a gorgeous-apparelled woman, and there prostitute it.

But those that only take from it what is nasty and no way profitable

do only purge it and improve it by their labor. Otherwise you may find

fault with all things whatsoever as vain and extravagant, beginning at

the house you live in. As first, you may say, why is it plastered?

Why does it open especially on that side where it may have the best

convenience for receiving the purest air, and the benefit of the evening

sun? What is the reason that our cups are washed and made so clean that

they shine and look bright? Now if a cup ought to have nothing that is

nasty or loathsome in it, ought that which is drunk out of the cup to

be full of dregs and filth? What need is there for mentioning anything

else? The making corn into bread is a continual cleansing; and yet what

a great ado there is before it is effected! There is not only threshing,

winnowing, sifting, and separating the bran, but there must be kneading

the dough to soften all parts alike, and a continual cleansing and

working of the mass till all the parts become edible alike. What

absurdity is it then by straining to separate the lees, as it were the

filth of the wine, especially since the cleansing is no chargeable or

painful operation?

QUESTION VIII. WHAT IS THE CAUSE OF BULIMY OR THE GREEDY DISEASE?

PLUTARCH, SOCLARUS, CLEOMENES, AND OTHERS.

There is a certain sacrifice of very ancient institution, which the

chief magistrate or archon performs always in the common-hall, and every

private person in his own house. 'Tis called the driving out of bulimy;

for they whip out of doors some one of their servants with a bunch of

willow rods, repeating these words, Get out of doors, bulimy; and enter

riches and health. Therefore in my year there was a great concourse of

people present at the sacrifice; and, after all the rites and ceremonies

of the sacrifice were over, when we had seated ourselves again at the

table, there was an inquiry made first of all into the signification of

the word bulimy, then into the meaning of the words which are repeated

when the servant is turned out of doors. But the principal dispute was

concerning the nature of it, and all its circumstances. First, as for

the word bulimy, it was agreed upon by all to denote a great and public

famine, especially among us who use the Aeolic dialect, putting [Greek

omitted] for [Greek omitted]. For it was not called by the ancients

[Greek omitted] but [Greek omitted], that is, [Greek omitted], much

hunger. We concluded that it was not the same with the disease called

Bubrostis, by an argument fetched out of Metrodorus's Ionics. For the

said Metrodorus informs us that the Smyrnaeans, who were once Aeolians,

sacrificed to Bubrostis a black bull cut into pieces with the skin on,

and so burnt it. Now, forasmuch as every species of hunger resembles

a disease, but more particularly Bulimy, which is occasioned by an

unnatural disposition of the body, these two differ as riches and

poverty, health and sickness. But as the word NAUSEATE [Greek omitted]

first took its name from men who were sea-sick in a ship, and afterwards

custom prevailed so far that the word was applied to all persons that

were any way in like sort affected; so the word BULIMY, rising at first

from hence, was at last extended to a more large and comprehensive

signification. What has been hitherto said was a general club of the

opinions of all those who were at table.

But after we began to inquire after the cause of this disease, the first

thing that puzzled us was to find out the reason why bulimy seizes

upon those that travel in the snow. As Brutus, one time marching from

Dyrrachium to Apollonia in a deep snow, was endangered of his life by

bulimy, whilst none of those that carried the provisions for the army

followed him; just when the man was ready to faint and die, some of his

soldiers were forced to run to the walls of the enemies' city, and beg a

piece of bread of the sentinels, by the eating of which he was presently

refreshed; for which cause, after Brutus had made himself master of the

city, he treated all the inhabitants very mercifully. Asses and horses

are frequently troubled with bulimy, especially when they are laden with

dry figs and apples; and, which is yet more strange, of all things that

are eaten, bread chiefly refreshes not only men but beasts; so that,

by taking a little quantity of bread, they regain their strength and go

forward on their journey.

After all were silent, I (who had observed that dull fellows and those

of a less piercing judgment were satisfied with and did acquiesce in

the reasons the ancients gave for bulimy, but to men of ingenuity and

industry they only pointed out the way to a more clear discovery of the

truth of the business) mentioned Aristotle's opinion, who says, that

extreme cold without causes extreme heat and consumption within; which,

if it fall into the legs, makes them lazy and heavy, but if it come

to the fountain of motion and respiration, occasions faintings and

weakness. When I had said that, some of the company opposed it, others

held with me.

At length says Soclarus: I like the beginning of this reason very

well, for the bodies of travellers in a great snow must of necessity be

surrounded and condensed with cold; but that from the heat within there

should arise such a consumption as invades the principle of respiration,

I can no way imagine. I rather think, says he, that abundance of heat

penned up in the body consumes the nourishment, and that failing, the

fire as it were goes out. Here it comes to pass, that men troubled with

this bulimy, when they are ready to starve with hunger, if they eat

never so little meat, are presently refreshed. The reason is, because

meat digested is like fuel for the heat to feed upon.

But Cleomenes the physician would have the word [Greek omitted] (which

signifies hunger) to be added to the making up of the word [Greek

omitted] without sufficient reason; as [Greek omitted], to drink, is

added to [Greek omitted], to swallow; and [Greek omitted] to incline,

into [Greek omitted] to raise the head. Nor is bulimy, as it seems, a

kind of hunger, but an affection in the stomach causing a faintness on

account of the concourse of heat. Therefore as things that have a good

smell recall the spirits of those that are faint, so bread affects those

that are almost overcome with a bulimy; not that they have any need of

food (for the least piece of it restores them their strength), but the

bread calls back their vigor and languishing spirits. Now that bulimy is

not hunger but a faintness, is manifest from all laboring beasts, which

are seized with it very often through the smell of dry figs and apples;

for a smell does not cause any want of food, but rather a pain and

agitation in the stomach.

These things seemed to be reasonably well urged; and yet it seemed that

much might be said for the contrary opinion, and that it was possible

enough to maintain that bulimy ariseth not from condensation but

rarefication of the stomach. For the spirit which flows from the snow

is nothing but the aether and finest fragment of the frozen substance,

endued with a virtue of cutting and dividing not only the flesh, but

also silver and brazen vessels; for we see that these are not able to

keep in the snow, for it dissolves and evaporates, and glazes over the

outmost superficies of the vessels with a thin dew, not unlike to

ice, which this spirit leaves as it secretly passes through the pores.

Therefore this piercing spirit, like a flame, seizing upon those that

travel in the snow, seems to burn their outsides, and like fire to enter

and penetrate the flesh. Hence it is that the flesh is more rarefied,

and the heat is extinguished by the cold spirit that lies upon the

superficies of the body; therefore the body evaporates a dewy thin

sweat, which melts away and decays the strength. Now if a man should sit

still at such a time, there would not much heat fly out of his body. But

when the motion of the body doth quickly heat the nourishment, and that

heat bursts through the thin skin, there must necessarily be a great

loss of strength. Now we know by experience, that cold hath a virtue not

only to condense but also to loosen bodies; for in extreme cold winters

pieces of lead are found to sweat. And when we see that a bulimy happens

where there is no hunger, we may conclude that at that time the body

is rather in a fluid than condensed state. The reason that bodies are

rarefied in winter is because of the subtility of the spirit; especially

when the moving and tiring of the body stir the heat, which, as soon as

it is subtilized and agitated, flies apace, and spreads itself through

the whole body. Lastly, it is very possible that apples and dry figs

exhale some such thing as this, which rarefies and attenuates the heat

of the beasts; for some things have a natural tendency as well to weaken

as to refresh different creatures.

QUESTION IX. WHY DOES HOMER APPROPRIATE A CERTAIN PECULIAR EPITHET TO

EACH PARTICULAR LIQUID, AND CALL OIL ONLY LIQUID?

PLUTARCH, AND OTHERS.

It was the subject once of a discourse, why, when there are several

sorts of liquids, the poet should give every one of them a peculiar

epithet, calling milk white, honey yellow, wine red, and yet for all

this bestow no other upon oil but what it hath in common with all other

liquids. To this it was answered that, as that is said to be most sweet

which is perfectly sweet, and to be most white which is perfectly white

(I mean here by perfectly that which hath nothing of a contrary quality

mixed with it), so that ought to be called perfectly humid whereof never

a part is dry; and this is proper to oil.

For first of all, its smoothness shows the evenness of its parts; for

touch it where you please, it is all alike. Besides, you may see your

face in it as perfectly as in a mirror; for there is nothing rough in it

to hinder the reflection, but by reason of its humidity it reflects

to the eye the least particle of light from every portion. As, on

the contrary, milk, of all other liquids, does not return our images,

because it hath too many terrene and gross parts mixed with it; again,

oil of all other liquids makes the least noise when moved, for it is

perfectly humid. When other liquids are moved or poured out, their hard

and grosser parts fall and dash one against another, and so make a noise

by reason of their roughness. Moreover, oil only is pure and unmixed;

for it is of all other liquids most compact, nor has it any empty spaces

and pores between the dry and earthy parts to receive what chances to

fall upon it. Besides, because of the similitude of its parts, it is

closely joined together, and unfit to be joined to anything else. When

oil froths, it does not let any wind in, by reason of the contiguity and

subtility of its parts; and this is also the cause why fire is nourished

by it. For fire feeds upon nothing but what is moist, for nothing is

combustible but what is so; for when the fire is kindled, the air turns

to smoke, and the terrene and grosser parts remain in the ashes. Fire

only preys upon the moisture, which is its natural nourishment. Indeed,

water, wine, and other liquors, having abundance of earthy and heavy

parts in them, by falling into fire part it, and by their roughness and

weight smother and extinguish it. But oil, because purely liquid, by

reason of its subtility, is overcome by the fire, and so changed into

flame.

It is the greatest argument that can be of its humidity, that the least

quantity of it spreads itself a great way; for so small a drop of honey,

water, or any other liquid does not extend itself so far, but very

often, by reason of the dry mixed parts, is presently wasted. Because

oil is ductile and soft, men are wont to make use of it for anointing

their bodies; for it runs along and spreads itself through all the

parts, and sticks so firmly to them that it is not easily washed off.

We find by experience, that a garment wet with water is presently dried

again; but it is no easy matter to wash out the spots and stain of oil,

for it enters deep, because of its most subtile and humid nature.

Hence it is that Aristotle says, that the drops of diluted wine are the

hardest to be got out of clothes, because they are most subtile, and run

farther into the pores of the cloth.

QUESTION X. WHAT IS THE REASON THAT FLESH OF SACRIFICED BEASTS, AFTER

BEING HUNG A WHILE UPON A FIG-TREE IS MORE TENDER THAN BEFORE?

ARISTIO, PLUTARCH, AND OTHERS.

At supper we were commanding Aristio's cook, who, amongst other dishes

that he had dressed very curiously, brought a cock to table just killed

as a sacrifice to Hercules, as tender as though it had been killed a

day or two before. When Aristio told us that this was no wonder,--seeing

such a thing might very easily be done, if the cock, as soon as he was

killed, was hung upon a fig-tree,--we began to inquire into the reason

of what he asserted. Indeed, I must confess, our eye assures us that

a fig-tree sends out a fierce and strong spirit; which is yet more

evident, from what we have heard said of bulls. That is, a bull, after

he is tied to a fig-tree, though never so mad before, grows presently

tame, and will suffer you to touch him, and on a sudden all his rage and

fury cool and die. But the chiefest cause that works this change is the

sharp acrimonious quality of the tree. For this tree is the fullest of

sap, and so are its figs, wood, and bark; and hence it comes to pass,

that the smoke of fig-wood is most offensive to the eyes; and when it

is burned, its ashes make the best lye to scour withal. But all these

effects proceed from heat. Now there are some that say, when the sap

of this tree thrown into milk curds it, that this effect does not arise

from the irregular figures of the parts of the milk, which the sap joins

and (as it were) sticks together, the smooth and globose parts being

squeezed out, but that by its heat it loosens the unstable and watery

parts of the liquid body. And we may use as a proof the unprofitableness

of the sap of this tree, which, though it is very sweet, yet makes the

worst liquor in the world. For it is not the inequality in the parts

that affects the smooth part, but what is cold and raw is stopped by

heat. And salt help to do this; for it is hot, and works contrary to the

uniting of the parts just mentioned, causing rather a dissolution; for

to it, above all other things, Nature has given a dissolving faculty.

Therefore the fig-tree sends forth a hot and sharp spirit, which cuts

and boils the flesh of the bird. The very same thing may be effected

by placing the flesh upon a heap of corn, or near nitre; the heat will

produce the same that the fig-tree did. Now it may be made manifest that

wheat is naturally hot, in that wine, put into a hogshead and placed

among wheat, is presently consumed.

BOOK VII.

The Romans, Sossius Senecio, remember a pretty saying of a

pleasant man and good companion, who supping alone said that he had

eaten to-day, but not supped; as if a supper always wanted company and

agreement to make it palatable and pleasing. Evenus said that fire was

the sweetest of all sauces in the world. And Homer calls salt [Greek

omitted], divine; and most call it [Greek omitted], graces, because,

mixed with most part of our food, it makes it palatable and agreeable to

the taste. Now indeed the best and most divine sauce that can be at an

entertainment or a supper is a familiar and pleasant friend; not because

he eats and drinks with a man, but because he participates of and

communicates discourse, especially if the talk be profitable, pertinent,

and instructive. For commonly loose talk over a glass of wine raiseth

passions and spoils company, and therefore it is fit that we should be

as critical in examining what discourses as what friends are fit to be

admitted to a supper; not following either the saying or opinion of

the Spartans, who, when they entertained any young man or a stranger in

their public halls, showed him the door, with these words, "No discourse

goes out this way." What we use to talk of may be freely disclosed

to everybody, because we have nothing in our discourses that tends to

looseness, debauchery, debasing of ourselves, or back-biting others.

Judge by the examples, of which this seventh book contains ten.

QUESTION I. AGAINST THOSE WHO FIND FAULT WITH PLATO FOR SAYING THAT

DRINK PASSETH THROUGH THE LUNGS.

NICIAS, PLUTARCH, PROTOGENES, FLORUS.

At a summer entertainment, one of the company pronounced that common

verse,

Now drench thy lungs with wine, the Dog appears.