_Roman Spoons—Useful Arts in Athens, Sparta and Rome—Mamurius the
Brazier—Downfall of the Romans—Military and Mechanical
Professions—Discovery of Herculaneum—Silver Spoons—Pompeii
Disinterred—Kitchen Utensils and Spoons of Silver, Brass, Wood and
Ivory found—Reflections on Pompeii—Street of the Silversmiths—Few
Ancient Spoons described in Print—Antique Plate—Description of Plates
II and III—Latin Name of the Spoon—Shell Spoons and Garum
Sauce—Mercury Spoon—Soldiers’ Iron Spoons—Specimens from
Piranesi—Simpula—Indian Ladles, &c._
Having noticed a few spoons made under the Ptolemies or Pharaohs, let us
next refer to some fabricated in Rome or its provincial towns, under the
Cæsars. We have no particular specimens from ancient Greece to lay
before the reader, but the deficiency is not material, since a manifest
conformity prevailed in the social economy of the Greeks and Romans.
The ancients generally paid little respect to mechanical professions;
where one people fostered them a hundred treated them with contempt.
This was the case even in Greece; the Lacedemonians and others despised,
the Athenians alone respected them. Lycurgus forbade his countrymen to
become artisans, but Solon made a law that no son should be compelled to
support a destitute parent, if the latter had neglected to teach him a
trade. The Athenian lawgiver rendered the useful professions honorable;
the goddess of the arts was adopted as the protectress of the city, and
a distaff and spindle placed in her hands. Every school boy knows how
much more the world is indebted to Athens than to Sparta. It is the same
now—the most enlightened people are those who cultivate the arts most,
and the weakest and rudest such as neglect them. There can be no science
where there are no arts, and for the future there can be no national
power but in proportion as they are cultivated. The age of the sword and
brute force is passing away; that of the arts and intellectual power
beginning to dawn.
In the infancy of their career the Romans promoted the useful
professions. Numa, their second king, was incomparably the best they
ever had. A philosopher, he preferred peace to war, and set himself to
tame the ferocity of the people, by infusing into them a taste for
agriculture and the arts; to induce them to rely on the fruits of honest
industry rather than on the plunder of their neighbors. The people, says
Plutarch, were divided into classes or corporations, according to their
trades. Those of each profession had their respective halls, &c. a
practice derived from the East. He mentions goldsmiths, dyers, tanners,
coppersmiths, &c. Publicola also fostered domestic manufactures by
exempting artificers from tribute.
That workers in metals were expert in Numa’s time is evident from the
story of the buckler reported to have fallen from heaven, and the eleven
copies of it made by Mamurius. But mechanics in those days were not the
ignorant and sordid beings their enemies have generally represented
them. Pliny, deploring the deteriorated workmanship of his time,
observes, that every man labored only for money; whereas, in the days of
our forefathers, says he, they worked for _fame_. The celebrated brazier
just named asked no other reward for making the sacred shields, than to
have his name mentioned in the hymns sung during the feasts of the
Ancylia. Plutarch intimates that an ode was chanted to his memory by the
Salians along with the Pyrrhic dance.
Twenty centuries have elapsed since the Romans were in the height of
their power. As a nation war was their profession, and pillage their
wealth; they rose by the sword and by it they fell—a righteous
Providence having meted to them the measure they meted to others.
History is full of recitals of their conquests, of the victims they
slew, and the terror their armies spread among nations, the triumphs
accorded to their generals, with kings and spoils of kingdoms dragged in
their trains; but not a page is devoted to those arts and professions
which contribute to the permanent happiness of men. The world yet
resounds with their feats of arms; but of the more useful and honest
occupations of the _people_, all writers are silent. Of the click of the
hammer, speed of the shuttle, creaking of the file, buzzing of lathes,
roaring of bellows, of manufacturing machinery driven by men, horses,
water or wind, Tacitus and Livy, Sallust and Suetonius have nothing to
say. Ancient annals may be said to give no more idea of the manners and
customs, social habits and general employments of the people, than
descriptions of modern battles do of the nations to whom the contending
idiots belong. What Olaus Magnus said of the Goths was true of all
nations, and is still true of too many: “They supposed all other arts
nothing, when compared with military arts.” The world is yet crowded
with Goths.
Although the Romans formed the last link in the chain of nations, which
connects us with the people of remote times, and as such should be
somewhat familiar to us, yet so long and dark a night of turbulence and
barbarism set in on their fall, that the knowledge of their arts and
manufactures has in a great measure been lost. From the number of their
colonies, a few products of their workshops have occasionally been
picked up in various parts of Europe; but with all the collections and
labors of antiquarians, comparatively little is known of the extent, and
less of the processes, of mechanical manipulations among the classical
ancients.
A very trivial circumstance occurred in the beginning of the last
century (in 1711) which led to a discovery unexampled in the annals of
our globe—one which reflected more light on ancient private life and on
some branches of the useful arts than any thing else:—An Italian
peasant, digging a well near his cottage, found some fragments of
colored marble. These attracting attention, led to further excavation,
when a statue of Hercules was disinterred, and shortly afterwards a
mutilated one of Cleopatra. These were found at a considerable depth
below the surface, and in a place which subsequently proved to be a
temple situated in the centre of the ancient city of Herculaneum. This
city was overwhelmed with ashes and lava, during an eruption of
Vesuvius, A. D. 79, being the same in which the elder Pliny perished.
Herculaneum therefore had been buried 1630 years! and while every
memorial of it was lost, and even the site unknown, it was thus
suddenly, by a resurrection, then unparalleled, brought again to light;
and streets, temples, houses, statues, paintings, jewelry, professional
implements, kitchen utensils, and other articles connected with ancient
domestic life, were to be seen arranged, as when their owners were
actively moving among them.
There are some interesting letters in the early volumes of the
Philosophical Transactions, from which it appears that slow progress was
made in excavation at Herculaneum for several years. One from Mr.
William Hamilton, dated Naples, March 1731, runs thus;—“At _Resina_,
about four miles from Naples, under the mountain, within half a mile of
the sea-side, there is a _well_ in a poor man’s yard; down which about
thirty yards there is a hole which some people have the curiosity to
creep into, and may afterwards creep a good way under ground; and with
lights find foundations of houses and streets, which, by some, it is
said, was in the time of the Romans, a city called _Aretina_, others say
Port Hercules, where the Romans usually embarked for Africa. I have seen
the well, which is deep, and a good depth of water at the bottom that I
never cared to venture down.”
Signor C. Paderni writes from Rome in November, 1739, to Allan Ramsay,
that the king of Naples had appointed an artist to take charge of the
articles found. Of these there were thirty or forty paintings, a chariot
and horses in brass, several statues and basso-relievos, eight rings,
containing engraved cornelians, a golden bracelet, a large brazen dish,
&c. “They enter the place by a pit, like a well, to the depth of 88
Neapolitan palms, and then dig their way under the bituminous matter.”
M. Geo. Knapton says, the ancient city of Herculaneum is now under a
town called Portici, a quarter of a mile from the sea, at the foot of
Vesuvius, and has no other road to it but that of the _town well_, [the
same begun by the peasant in 1711] which is none of the most agreeable,
being in parts very straight, in others wide, and cut in a most rude
manner. Towards the bottom, where you go into the city, it is very
broad, which they have made so to turn the columns which were brought
up.... The entrance is 82 feet from the top of the well.... It is
difficult for the first person let down to get in, but when once landed
at the opening, “he pulled us in by the legs as we came down.” This
writer does not mention how far above the bottom of the well the opening
into the city was, but the depth of water was considerable, for on
account of it, excavations were not made to the foundations of the
buildings.
Mr. Crispe, writing from Rome in April, 1740, after mentioning
paintings, houses, statues, busts, &c. observes: They have found several
antique rings, with cameos and intaglios set in them, a case of surgical
instruments, a triumphal car of bronze, vessels full of rice, mouse
traps, several kitchen utensils, a fork, and a _silver spoon, made in
the handle like a modern one_, and the bowl pointed like an olive leaf.
[_See Phil. Trans. Vols._ xli. xliv. xlix.]
Excavations were continued for several years, and vast treasures found,
with which several museums have become enriched, besides those of Italy.
As it would have been an immense undertaking to raise through the well
all the materials displaced, the plan was adopted of filling up old
excavations with the rubbish of fresh ones, and thus no series of
buildings or streets are to be seen. The theatre only is open, and it is
very imperfectly viewed by torch light, at so great a depth below the
surface.
In 1755, another city, overwhelmed at the same time with Herculaneum,
was discovered. This was Pompeii, the very name of which had been almost
forgotten. As it lay at a greater distance from Vesuvius than
Herculaneum, the stream of lava never reached it. It was inhumed by
showers of ashes, pumice and stones, which formed a bed of variable
depth from twelve to twenty feet, and easily removed; whereas the former
city was entombed in ashes and lava to the depth of from seventy to a
hundred feet. With the exception of the upper stories of the houses,
which were either consumed by red hot stones ejected from the volcano,
or crushed by the weight of the matter collected on their roofs, we
behold in Pompeii a nourishing city nearly in the same state in which it
existed eighteen centuries ago! The buildings unaltered by newer
fashions; the paintings undimmed by the leaden touch of time; household
furniture left in the confusion of use; articles even of intrinsic value
abandoned in the hurry of escape, yet safe from the robber, or scattered
about as they fell from the trembling hand which could not stop or pause
to pick them up.
The work of disinterment has been prosecuted to the present time, and
every year adds to the treasures of the Portician Museum. Cooking
utensils and kitchen furniture in great abundance, found in both cities,
are very similar to our own, but generally of more durable materials and
better finish; sauce-pans being lined with silver instead of a thin
coating of tin; colanders, strainers, fish-slices, water-pails, of
brass, and elaborately finished. Some sauce-pans have been found wholly
of silver. Fire grates like ours were not used, but large braziers
placed in the middle of the kitchen; and ranges of small furnaces, of
brick-work raised breast high, in which charcoal was used; identical
with those often seen in the kitchens of the wealthy, and which have
been almost universal in Europe to the present century; fixed and
portable ovens, oil-flasks, bottles and glasses of every variety, glazed
plates of earthenware packed in straw, cups and saucers of silver, like
those now used for tea, gridirons, frying-pans, dripping-pans, molds for
pastry, caldrons, graters, mortars, knives, and SPOONS of _bronze_,
_ivory_ and _silver_.
Here is a female’s toilet, essences, tortoise-shell combs, bracelets,
mirrors, needles, a box of pins, ear and finger-rings, broaches, &c. as
she left them, perhaps to visit the theatre, whence, with hundreds more,
she never returned. (It was an opinion of the ancients that the
inhabitants were surprised by the volcanic storm while in the theatre.)
Few of the antiquities possess so melancholy an interest as those
relating to children. It is obvious from Pliny’s letters to Tacitus, and
from the nature of the catastrophe, that numbers of these innocents
perished; trod down by distracted crowds rushing out of the city, and
seeking to fly from the supernatural darkness that enveloped it; killed
by showers of falling stones, from which some few grown people
fortunately protected themselves by tying pillows on their heads;
suffocated by an atmosphere of ashes and cinders; their shrieks after
their parents, as well as their mothers’ cries after them, were
gradually stifled with noxious vapors and dust. _Toys_ have been found
in some houses—the domicils, we may suppose, of benevolent couples, who,
like Plutarch and his wife, were delighted in beholding their young
offspring play and chatter ‘with babies and dolls.’ These, only relics
of their romping little owners, thrown down in alarm when the terrors of
the calamity entered each dwelling, have been picked up where they were
left. The Pompeians moreover had not only toys to please their children,
but pictures and stories to frighten them, similar to such as have
reached us through the middle ages. There is a dark looking personage
roughly drawn with black paint on a wall; he has horns, cloven feet, and
altogether resembles modern portraits of the wicked one.
A solitary wanderer in the avenues and alleys of Pompeii might almost
anticipate the feelings of the “last man.” It is awful to walk alone
through a city in which no human being has moved for so many centuries;
through dwellings fitted up with every convenience for large and small
families, for rich and poor ones; through streets deeply rutted with
carriage wheels, and on side-walks worn by foot passengers; to read the
names of tradespeople on the doorposts and observe articles on counters;
enter palaces of patricians and apartments of plebeians, the studios of
sculptors and painters; and find every where household goods, utensils
and tools, arranged as if their owners had just stepped out, and might
be expected every moment to return.
In one house we find the chief rooms decorated with exquisite paintings
and statuary; sleeping apartments appropriately adorned, and the kitchen
furnished with every requisite; loaves of bread in one oven, a pie in
another, flour in the kneading-trough, pickles and sauces in jars and
glass bottles, oil in flasks, wine in amphoræ, and wine-glasses in
abundance; here a pail half full of water, there a row of small furnaces
with charcoal in them ready for kindling: a caldron close by, a sauce
pan, a frying pan for eggs, a knife, a silver bowl, several ladles and a
spoon;—all laying as if the cook, about to prepare dinner, had stept
into the adjoining garden for esculent roots or pot herbs. It is almost
impossible to look on, think on or handle such things, without being
startled by the least noise, turning round and imagining the owner
rushing into his dwelling and demanding the cause of one’s intrusion.
In 1826 were found in an arched cellar the skeletons of two or more
persons who had taken refuge there, carrying with them four gold rings,
a pair of ear-rings, many coins of gold and silver, and _four silver
spoons_. Subsequently we, find enumerated vases, basins with handles
formed of the wings of swans, pateræ, bells, inkstands, locks, an oval
caldron, hundreds of common glass bottles, besides decanters, fluted
tumblers and cups of green glass. In another place were found an oval
ball, a pair of golden ear-rings, together with a _silver ladle_ or
_spoon_.—[_Gell’s Pompeiana, I._ pp. 6, 41–2.]
The handsomest avenue yet discovered in Pompeii is known as the ‘street
of the silversmiths,’ a designation given it from quantities of plate
found in the shops. The practice was universal of old for mechanics of
one profession to locate together, and it is still kept up throughout
the east. It would have been better to have named the street after ‘the
goldsmiths,’ for under this designation workmen in the precious metals
have always been included. They are so in old French and English
statutes and in the Scriptures. ‘The goldsmith spreadeth it over with
gold, and casteth silver chains.’ [_Isaiah._] ‘They lavish gold out of
the bag, and weigh silver in the balance, and hire a goldsmith’
[_Ibid._]—literally exemplified daily in Cairo and other oriental
cities. That this class of artisans were influential and wealthy in
Pompeii may be inferred from a notice of a gladiatorial show, got up at
their cost, in honor of ‘Caius Cuspius Pansa, the Ædile.’
We believe few silver and other spoons found in Herculaneum and Pompeii
have been described in print. Gell complains bitterly in his preface and
appendix of the difficulties thrown in the way of foreign artists, and
the unworthy policy of prohibiting sketches to be taken of antiquities
found. They have yet to learn at Naples, he observes, that the only use
or glory in the possession of these things consists in the promulgation
of them to the world. The examination of antique works in metal by
practical men can alone determine the modes of their manufacture. For
want of this, the question whether sheet iron, copper, &c. was laminated
by _rollers_ is not determined, nor whether dies were used in producing
ornamented hollow-ware; besides other questions of interest.
Allusions in classic authors to table furniture, and specimens extant,
are calculated to impress us with high ideas of the skill of Roman gold
and silver smiths. Besides models furnished by Etrurian, Grecian and
oriental workmen, luxury and a general taste in the patricians for
objects of _virtu_ tended to foster these professions. The younger Pliny
speaks of the frugal repasts of Spurinna being served ‘in antique plate
of pure silver,’ which he preferred to a more fashionable and ‘complete
service of Corinthian metal’ in his possession. (The composition of this
alloy is wholly unknown. It was esteemed vastly more precious than
gold.) That spoons were elaborately wrought, so as to keep pace with
more splendid appendages of the beaufet, there is no doubt; but few, if
any such, are extant. Perhaps the best of those to which we are about to
refer were in no respect superior to silver ones in ordinary use.
DESCRIPTION OF PLATE II.—_Figures 1, 2, 3_, are Roman _pateræ_, or
rather scoops. They clearly show how the classical ancients preserved
the form of shells in utensils allied to the ladle and spoon. But the
marine origin of the latter was preserved by the Romans in its _name_,
for _cochleare_, a spoon, is derived from _cochlea_, a shell or cockle.
_Fig. 4_—an antique spoon fashioned after a peculiar shell, and having a
row of minute dots or openings as a border—perhaps in imitation of those
in the haliotis and kindred productions of the deep. The short handle is
modeled after the tail of a fish, and the interior of the bowl
ornamented with a figure of a dolphin swimming in his native fluid—an
indication perhaps that the implement was used at table with fish; for
the ancients were often exceedingly happy in rendering their ornamental
devices appropriate. This spoon could only have been employed for
removing fluids from shallow dishes or saucers. It was probably an olive
spoon, or belonged to the small dish or cup containing anchovy or the
famous _garum_ sauce, both used at Roman tables, and the latter one for
the manufacture of which Pompeii was celebrated. It was, says Pliny, (B.
xxxi. 7, 8) the most exquisite and dainty of all condiments, “so costly
and so much in request that every two congii thereof might not be bought
under the price of 1000 sesterces,” [about five dollars a quart.]
_Fig. 5_—another Roman spoon with a handle little longer than the bowl,
but one displaying much taste. It is unique of its kind, and equals any
other in elegance we have seen. The bowl is perfectly modern in its
outline. Montfaucon is remarkably barren on this and _Fig. 4_: three
words, ‘found at Autun,’ comprehend all he says. Hence we know neither
their dimensions nor materials, nor how they were made. From the general
appearance of _Fig. 4_, one might suppose it was struck up in a die from
sheet metal.
_Fig. 6_—a very elaborate silver spoon—the bowl pointed like a French
one, and the turned handle not unlike such as formerly prevailed in
Europe. The notch or bend near the bowl is a common feature in Roman
spoons—supposed to have been designed to rest the implement against the
edge of the dish. The ornaments in the bowl are mythological. Mercury,
seated on a rock, holds in his right hand a purse, and in his left the
caduceus. His winged hat lays at his feet, and before him stands a cock,
a goat, and a tortoise—animals often represented on temples and
monuments dedicated to him. The whole of this spoon must have been cast
unless the bowl and the figures on it were chased or stamped. The handle
is short but strong, increasing in substance as it approaches the bowl.
Chinese spoons were noticed by Van Braam as having very short handles.
From the great beauty of ancient medallions, we may be sure articles of
plate, if ornamented with the die, were sometimes equally well finished.
_Figs. 7_ to _12_, inclusive, are from the second volume of Montfaucon’s
antiquities: 7 and 8, spoons four inches long, and hence about the size
of modern mustard spoons; their handles plain and tapered to a point;
their section a square. Their material is not mentioned; but in the
second volume of his supplement the learned father has figured three
similar spoons which he says were of silver, and used, as he supposed,
for taking incense out of vases. In Recueil d’Antiquities Egyptiennes,
Etrusces, &c. Paris, 1752, p. 325, a similar spoon is described. It was
of _silver_, and between six and seven inches in length. _Fig. 9_—a
utensil more like a shovel than a spoon, and from that circumstance
conjectured by Montfaucon to have been employed in putting incense on
the altar. He does not seem to have known that spoons of this shape have
been used in the east from remote times. Modern salt and mustard spoons
of the same form are quite common. In _Fig. 8_ the handle is attached to
the smaller end of the bowl—a very common feature in ancient spoons.
_Figs. 10, 11, 12_—ordinary household spoons. The handles are all square
or nearly so, and the tip of No. 11 is molded into a minute spoon,
perhaps designed to extract marrow from bones—a good idea and one worthy
the attention of modern manufacturers. Of what substance these spoons
were made we are not informed. _Fig. 13_—an iron one from the first
volume of the Antiquarian Repertory, Lon. 1775. It was found with other
antiques in Gloucestershire, Eng. and is perhaps the same kind as used
by Roman soldiers. The long pointed handles, Grose thinks, were designed
to open shellfish and doubtless for several other purposes. Stuck in the
wall, or side of a tent, they answered for nails or pins, on which the
inmates hung their armor or arms, and when required at meals performed
the part of our forks in toasting or handling hot morsels.
_Fig. 14_—from Stukely’s Stonehenge, and supposed to have been used for
measuring small quantities of liquids—perhaps the cyath, which held the
contents of an ounce vial. As a vehicle from which to take medicine, as
well as to determine the quantity, the spoon was as much used by the
ancients as by us. For both purposes it is repeatedly mentioned. To
remove pains in the abdomen, Pliny says, “two spoonfuls of plantain, and
of poppie one spoonful, mixed with four cyaths of wine,” and taken night
and morning, is an effectual remedy. [B. xxvi. 8. _Holland’s Trans._]
The figures in this and the following plates being derived from
different sources, and the articles themselves having been discovered at
various times and portrayed on every scale, it is impossible to present
them properly proportioned. Generally speaking, the _form_ is all for
which we must be held responsible.
DESCRIPTION OF PLATE III.—_Fig. 1_—a silver table spoon ‘found at
Autun.’ The bowl is almost a fac simile of _No. 6_ in _Plate II_, both
in form and decorations. The handle is peculiar, consisting of two
separate bars, suggesting an idea that the smaller and lower was
intended to stiffen the upper one. Both terminate in a neat button or
cap. This implement we may suppose, was named a ‘Mercury spoon.’ If it
did not belong to some temple of that god, it would seem as if a variety
with staple ornaments and designs were kept on hand by manufacturers, so
that every purchaser could select his spoons (and other utensils)
decorated with the established emblems of his patron saint or deity. If
such was the practice—and there is much in history to confirm it—it must
have been a great source of profit to gold and silver smiths, and may
serve to account for that amazing variety of design and decorations
which characterized their works. A similar custom was continued down to
mediæval times, as will be seen in our notice of ‘Apostle spoons.’
_Figs. 2_ to _7_ are from Piranesi’s great work, the ‘Antiquities of the
Kingdom of Naples,’ Paris, 1804. The first three are beautiful
specimens. The handles of two are elegantly turned, and in quite a
modern style of ornament. They present the remarkable bend near the
bowl, before alluded to; the metal is there made deeper than at any
other place, thus imparting strength where it is required. Plain and
modern in the bowls, they might be almost taken as products of a living
silversmith. It is not improbable that handles formed like these will
again be in fashion. _Fig. 5_ more resembles a patera than a spoon, and
one like it is figured by Montfaucon; but it is impossible to determine
in all cases where the one ends and the other begins. It is more like a
spoon than some utensils acknowledged to be such. The general form is
pleasing. The handle terminates in a ram’s head. _Figs. 6_ and _7_—small
bronze spoons for unguents. They are the only ones figured in the last
French edition of the Antiquities of Herculaneum, in eight volumes
octavo.
We have occupied the remainder of the plate with a collection of ancient
ladles, spoons, &c. from various authorities, principally Piranesi and
Montfaucon. The originals were chiefly bronze. Nothing is said
respecting them, so that the forms only are left to remark on. Those
with perpendicular handles were generally used to draw wine from
amphoræ. Some of the smallest were liquid measures, &c. One with a
cylindrical bowl or cup, marked 18, is identical with those used by our
milk men, and with Egyptian simpula on page 135. Those numbered _13_,
_14_, _15_, and perhaps _16_ and _17_, are mere variations of the spoon.
_Fig. 8_—a rich ladle, while 9 is nearly a literal copy of a modern
cream spoon. _Figs. 10, 11, 12_—other varieties; _19_ is remarkable for
the turn of the handle, and _20_ has so clumsy an appearance as to
suggest the idea of its having been carved out of wood by an ancient
Calabrian peasant. We know the ancients had simpula of earthen ware, and
also of wood as well as of metal.
American Indian ladles of considerable antiquity are not very rare. An
oblong one with a short pointed handle, and rudely carved out of wood,
and excessively deformed, is in the Boston Museum. They are occasionally
met with of _stone_, and so are spoons. Of the latter some are neatly
formed and well polished, while others have a bowl at each end of the
handle. Canadian Indians frequently make the bowls of their spoons and
ladles out of _bark_—folding smooth pieces into the form of the common
tin scoop, and tying to each a short stick as a handle. They carve
spoons of the same shape out of solid wood.
By the way, it is not a little singular that beautifully formed spoons
have been made for ages by people who never thought of employing such
things in connection with food. They developed them for a very different
purpose. Specimens are now before us—to be sure, their dimensions render
them more suitable appendages to the breakfast table of Polyphemus, or
for Goliath to take his porridge withal, than for feeding modern
gentlemen or ladies. Has the reader never observed in public or private
collections of curiosities, elaborately wrought wooden spoons, the bowls
of quite a modern shape, but varying from 12 to 18 inches in length,
from 4 to 6 in width, and of a proportionate depth—the handles also
tastefully designed, richly ornamented and two or three feet long? Such
are the _paddles_ of many South Sea islanders—the concave side of the
bowl holding the water and more effectually propelling a canoe than the
ordinarily formed blade of an oar. Certes, if these paddles had been now
unknown, and a few specimens were dug out of the soil, among other
relics of past ages, archeologists could hardly avoid receiving them as
samples of the kitchen furniture of the Titans.