I hope hot Sirius’s beams will many drain.

And Homer more plainly concerning Hector, over whose body Apollo spread

a thick cloud,

Lest the hot sun should scorch his naked limbs.[78]

Now the moon’s rays are weaker; for, as Ion says,

They do not ripen well the clustered grapes.

3. When he had done, I said: The rest of the discourse I like very

well, but I cannot consent when you ascribe this effect to the strength

and degree of heat, and chiefly in the hot seasons; for in winter every

one knows that the sun warms little, yet in summer it putrefies most.

Now the contrary should happen, if the gentleness of the heat were the

cause of putrefaction. And besides, the hotter the season is, so much

the sooner meat stinks; and therefore this effect is not to be ascribed

to the want of heat in the moon, but to some particular proper quality

in her beams. For heat is not different only by degrees; but in fires

there are some proper qualities very much unlike one another, as a

thousand obvious instances will prove. Goldsmiths heat their gold in

chaff fires; physicians use fires of vine-twigs in their distillations;

and tamarisk is the best fuel for a glass-house. Olive-boughs in a

vapor-bath warm very well, but hurt other baths: they spoil the

timbers, and weaken the foundation; and therefore the most skilful of

the public officers forbid those that rent the baths to burn olive-tree

wood, or throw darnel seed into the fire, because the fumes of it dizzy

and bring the headache to those that bathe. Therefore it is no wonder

that the moon differs in her qualities from the sun; and that the sun

should shed some drying, and the moon some dissolving, influence upon

flesh. And upon this account it is that nurses are very cautious of

exposing their infants to the beams of the moon; for they being full

of moisture, as green plants, are easily wrested and distorted. And

everybody knows that those that sleep abroad under the beams of the

moon are not easily waked, but seem stupid and senseless; for the

moisture that the moon sheds upon them oppresses their faculty and

disables their bodies. Besides, it is commonly said, that women brought

to bed when the moon is a fortnight old, have easy labors; and for this

reason I believe that Diana, which was the same with the moon, was

called the goddess of childbirth. And Timotheus appositely says,

By the blue heaven that wheels the stars,

And by the moon that eases women’s pains.

Even in inanimate bodies the power of the moon is very evident. Trees

that are cut in the full of the moon carpenters refuse, as being soft,

and, by reason of their moistness, subject to corruption; and in its

wane farmers usually thresh their wheat, that being dry it may better

endure the flail; for the corn in the full of the moon is moist, and

commonly bruised in threshing. Besides, they say dough will be leavened

sooner in the full, for then, though the leaven is scarce proportioned

to the meal, yet it rarefies and leavens the whole lump. Now when

flesh putrefies, the combining spirit is only changed into a moist

consistence, and the parts of the body separate and dissolve. And this

is evident in the very air itself, for when the moon is full, most dew

falls; and this Alcman the Poet intimates, when he somewhere calls dew

the air’s and moon’s daughter, saying,

See how the daughter of the Moon and Jove

Does nourish all things.

Thus a thousand instances do prove that the light of the moon is moist,

and carries with it a softening and corrupting quality. Now the brazen

nail that is driven through the flesh, if, as they say, it keeps the

flesh from putrefying, doth it by an astringent quality proper to the

brass. The rust of brass physicians use in astringent medicines, and

they say those that dig brass ore have been cured of a rheum in their

eyes, and that the hair upon their eyelids hath grown again; for the

dust rising from the ore, being insensibly applied to the eyes, stops

the rheum and dries up the humor. Upon this account, perhaps, Homer

calls brass εὐήνωρ and νῶροψ. Aristotle says, that wounds made by a

brazen dart or a brazen sword are less painful and sooner cured than

those that are made of iron weapons, because brass hath something

medicinal in itself, which in the very instant is applied to the

wound. Now it is manifest that astringents are contrary to putrefying,

and healing to corrupting qualities. Some perhaps may say, that the

nail driven through draws all the moisture to itself, for the humor

still flows to the part that is hurt; and therefore it is said that

by the nail there always appears some speck and tumor; and therefore

it is rational that the other parts should remain sound, when all the

corruption gathers about that.

BOOK IV.

Polybius, my Sossius Senecio, advised Scipio Africanus never to return

from the Forum, where he was conversant about the affairs of the city,

before he had gained one new friend. Where I suppose the word friend

is not to be taken too nicely, to signify a lasting and unchangeable

acquaintance; but, as it vulgarly means, a well-wisher, and as

Dicearchus takes it, when he says that we should endeavor to make all

men well-wishers, but only good men friends. For friendship is to be

acquired by time and virtue; but good-will is produced by a familiar

intercourse, or by mirth and trifling amongst civil and genteel men,

especially if opportunity assists their natural inclinations to

good-nature. But consider whether this advice may not be accommodated

to an entertainment as well as the Forum; so that we should not

break up the meeting before we had gained one of the company to be a

well-wisher and a friend. Other occasions draw men into the Forum, but

men of sense come to an entertainment as well to get new friends as

to make their old ones merry; indeed to carry away any thing else is

sordid and uncivil, but to depart with one friend more than we had is

pleasing and commendable. And so, on the contrary, he that doth not

aim at this renders the meeting useless and unpleasant to himself,

and departs at last, having been a partaker of an entertainment with

his belly but not with his mind. For he that makes one at a feast

doth not come only to enjoy the meat and drink, but likewise the

discourse, mirth, and genteel humor which ends at last in friendship

and good-will. The wrestlers, that they may hold fast and lock better,

use dust; and so wine mixed with discourse is of extraordinary use to

make us hold fast of, and fasten upon, a friend. For wine tempered with

discourse carries gentle and kind affections out of the body into the

mind; otherwise, it is scattered through the limbs, and serves only to

swell and disturb. Thus as a marble, by cooling red-hot iron, takes

away its softness and makes it hard, fit to be wrought and receive

impression; thus discourse at an entertainment doth not permit the men

that are engaged to become altogether liquid by the wine, but confines

and makes their jocund and obliging tempers very fit to receive an

impression from the seal of friendship if dexterously applied.

_QUESTION I._

WHETHER DIFFERENT SORTS OF FOOD, OR ONE SINGLE DISH FED UPON AT

ONCE, IS MORE EASILY DIGESTED.

PHILO, PLUTARCH, MARCION.

1. The first question of my fourth decade of Table Discourses shall be

concerning different sorts of food eaten at one meal. When we came to

Hyampolis at the feast called Elaphebolia, Philo the physician gave

us a very sumptuous entertainment; and seeing some boys who came with

Philinus feeding upon dry bread and calling for nothing else, he cried

out, O Hercules, well I see the proverb is verified,

They fought midst stones, but could not take up one;

and presently went out to fetch them some agreeable food. He staid some

time, and at last brought them dried figs and cheese; upon which I

said: It is usually seen that those that provide costly and superfluous

dainties neglect, or are not well furnished with, useful and necessary

things. I protest, said Philo, I did not mind that Philinus designs to

breed us a young Sosastrus, who (they say) never all his lifetime drank

or ate any thing beside milk, although it is probable that it was some

change in his constitution that made him use this sort of diet; but

our Chiron here,—quite contrary to the old one that bred Achilles

from his very birth,—feeding his son with unbloody food, gives people

reason to suspect that like a grasshopper he keeps him on dew and air.

Indeed, said Philinus, I did not know that we were to meet with a

supper of a hundred beasts, such as Aristomenes made for his friends;

otherwise I had come with some poor and wholesome food about me, as

a specific against such costly and unwholesome entertainments. For I

have often heard that simple diet is not only more easily provided, but

likewise more easily digested, than such variety. At this Marcion said

to Philo: Philinus hath spoiled your whole provision by deterring the

guests from eating; but, if you desire it, I will be surety for you,

that such variety is more easily digested than simple food, so that

without fear or distrust they may feed heartily. Philo desired him to

do so.

2. When after supper we begged Philinus to discover what he had to

urge against variety of food, he thus began: I am not the author of

this opinion, but our friend Philo here is ever now and then telling

us, first, that wild beasts, feeding on one sort only and simple diet,

are much more healthy than men are; and that those which are kept in

pens are much more subject to diseases and crudities, by reason of

the prepared variety we usually give them. Secondly, no physician is

so daring, so venturous at new experiments, as to give a feverish

patient different sorts of food at once. No, simple food, and without

sauce, as more easy to be digested, is the only diet they allow. Now

food must be wrought on and altered by our natural powers; in dyeing,

cloth of the most simple color takes the tincture soonest; the most

inodorous oil is soonest by perfumes changed into an essence; and

simple diet is soonest changed, and soonest yields to the digesting

power. For many and different qualities, having some contrariety, when

they meet disagree and corrupt one another; as in a city, a mixed

rout are not easily reduced into one body, nor brought to follow the

same concerns; for each works according to its own nature, and is very

hardly brought to side with another’s quality. Now this is evident in

wine; mixed wine inebriates very soon, and drunkenness is much like a

crudity rising from undigested wine; and therefore the drinkers hate

mixed liquors, and those that do mix them do it privately, as afraid

to have their design upon the company discovered. Every change is

disturbing and injurious, and therefore musicians are very careful how

they strike many strings at once; though the mixture and variety of

the notes would be the only harm that would follow. This I dare say,

that belief and assent can be sooner procured by disagreeing arguments,

than concoction by various and different qualities. But lest I should

seem jocose, waving this, I will return to Philo’s observations again.

We have often heard him declare that it is the quality that makes meat

hard to be digested; that to mix many things together is hurtful, and

begets unnatural qualities; and that every man should take that which

by experience he finds most agreeable to his temper.

Now if nothing is by its own nature hard to be digested, but it is the

quantity that disturbs and corrupts, I think we have still greater

reason to forbear that variety with which Philo’s cook, as it were in

opposition to his master’s practice, would draw us on to surfeits and

diseases. For, by the different sorts of food and new ways of dressing,

he still keeps up the unwearied appetite, and leads it from one dish to

another, till tasting of every thing we take more than is sufficient

and enough; as Hypsipyle’s foster-child,

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.[79]

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 every thing 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 patiently endure to hear a 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.

3. 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 only by

little and little 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 any thing. 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 chooses from dissimilar bodies what is

fit and agreeable, the diverse nourishment transmits 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 hot with hot;

and after the mixture is spread through the mass by the heat which

is in the spirit, 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

enfeebled 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 things vegetable, mineral, and animal, and things from sea and

land, in one potion; and advise him to let these alone, 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 along 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. Beside, what some say,

that fulness is more to be avoided than emptiness, is not true; but,

on the contrary, fulness 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 who stick to salt and cummin 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 sauces;—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 dried

fruits.

_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.

1. 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 fertilizing, 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 enquire after the

cause; and I shall accept this as your club for these mushrooms.

2. Then I began: Agemachus himself helps us exceedingly toward this

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

together with the thunder, oftentimes generative waters fall, which

receive that quality from the heat mixed with them. For the piercing

pure parts of the fire break away in lightning; but the grosser

flatulent part, being wrapped up in the cloud, changes its nature,

taking away the coldness and rendering the moisture mild and gentle,

and altering and being altered with it, warms 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 rainbow-struck,

imagining 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, the ground is moved thereby, 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 the consistence only of the

earth, which hath been 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.

3. 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 money 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, that lightning falling 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 lightning 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 they remain uncorrupted, confuting by

this Euripides’s Clymene, who says thus of Phaëton,

My best beloved, but now he lies

And putrefies in some dark vale.

And I believe brimstone is called θεῖον (_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 any thing 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....

4. And when I put in my advice, saying that it was as seasonable to

discourse of thunder and lightning amidst our cups as it would be in a

comedy to bring in engines to throw out lightning, the company agreed

to set aside all other questions relating to the subject, and desired

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

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 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 any thing 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 into a flock 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 any 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;

and 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.

1. 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

free born 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

marrying with no great 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?

2. 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 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.[80]

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 any way acquainted with.

3. 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 invited.

_QUESTION IV._

WHETHER THE SEA OR LAND AFFORDS BETTER FOOD.

CALLISTRATUS, SYMMACHUS, POLYCRATES.

1. 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 daily assembled a number of

honorable persons of good mark, and called the place where they met the

Prytaneum.

2. Several times at these public meetings divers agreeable discourses

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

with variety of dainties, gave occasion for enquiries concerning food,

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

company were highly commending 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 ὄψον, 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 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 the Senate that he should burst asunder: No, by

no means let us be baits for your fish! And what was his meaning, 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 and stones in that place,—for who upon 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 a price which a hecatomb of sheep with an ox would hardly bring.

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 enquiring who dressed congers in

the camp? These arguments, says Polycrates, I have urged in behalf of

fishmongers, drawing them from testimony and custom.

3. 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 dainty which

gives meat the best relish, it will evidently follow, that that is the

best sort of dainty 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 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

have only from the sea. First of all, there would be nothing eatable

without salt, which mixed with flour seasons bread also. Hence it was

that Neptune and Ceres had both the same temple. Besides, salt is the

most pleasant of all relishes. For those heroes who, like champions,

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 need 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 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

agreeable to the mouth, make all sorts of wine mild and palatable,

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 sea-food, 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.

4. 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 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.

1. 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.

2. 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 ὑς,

_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 all their hogs into the fields. and they with their feet

and snouts break up the ground, and cover the sown seed. Nor ought

this to seem strange to any one, that there are in the world those who

abstain from swine’s flesh upon such an account as this; when it is

evident that among barbarous nations there are other animals had in

greater honor and veneration for lesser, if not altogether ridiculous,

reasons. 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 quadrupeds,

brings forth her young with their eyesight; for they sleep 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 new-born infant; and that its legs

being spread with the bill make 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 the 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.

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

an ass which they detest;[81] 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;

unless in this likewise they imitate the Egyptians, and 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 the ear of a hare 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 forced upon their back they turn their eyes to the sun

against 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.

1. 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 hear

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

initiated and skilled in the triennial παντέλεια, or great 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.

2. 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 at this

day 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 made

appear out of Demosthenes and Menander. Nor would it be absurd, were

any one to say that the name Sabbath was imposed upon this feast from

the agitation and excitement (σόβησις) which the priests of Bacchus

indulged in. The Jews themselves testify 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 hanging at his garment which make a noise as he walks

the streets. So in the nightly ceremonies of Bacchus (as the fashion

is amongst us), they make use of musical instruments, and call the

God’s nurses χαλκοδρυσταί. High up on the wall of their temple is a

representation of the thyrsus and timbrels, which surely can belong

to no other God than Bacchus. Moreover they are forbidden the use of

honey in their sacrifices, because they suppose that a mixture of

honey corrupts and deads the wine. And honey was used for sacrificing

in former days, and with it the 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 sober 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 was pleased to prescribe. Those thus

punished....

(_The remainder of the Fourth Book is wanting._)

_QUESTION VII._

WHY THE DAYS WHICH BEAR THE NAMES OF THE PLANETS ARE NOT DISPOSED

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

ADDED A DISCOURSE TOUCHING THE POSITION OF THE SUN.

_QUESTION VIII._

WHY SIGNET-RINGS ARE WORN ESPECIALLY ON THE FOURTH FINGER.

_QUESTION IX._

WHETHER WE OUGHT TO CARRY IN OUR SEAL-RINGS THE IMAGES OF GODS, OR

RATHER THOSE OF WISE PERSONAGES.

_QUESTION X._

WHY WOMEN NEVER EAT THE MIDDLE PART OF A 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.[82]

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 in this way confuted; 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 small 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 TAKE WE 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.

1. 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

enquiry,—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.

2. 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

every thing that is artificially and ingeniously contrived. For as a

bee, naturally loving sweet things, seeks after and flies to any thing

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

and elegancy, is very much inclined to embrace and highly approve every

word or action that is seasoned with wit and judgment. 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 any one offers him 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 children

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

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

human nature, 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 that is 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 represent the face and

color of one ready to faint and yield up the ghost. 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 account, for God’s sake, from what external impression upon

our organ, 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 endeavored 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 Games, 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 tragedian 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 reverenced them, and were troubled that, when they

must judge every one 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 ῥήμονες, _orators_, and not ῥ’[**unclear]

ἥμονες, _darters_,[83] 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, and diligent 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 victorious in the five

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

novelties. And I fear to tell you how at Pisa they had a single combat,

where he that yielded or was overcome was killed upon the place,

lest again you may require an author for my story, and 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 WAS THE CONQUEROR IN THE ISTHMIAN GAMES CROWNED WITH

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

PINE?

LUCANIUS, PRAXITELES.

1. 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 advanced the common opinion, that the pine-tree

garland peculiarly belongs to Neptune, and 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 began 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. Beside, it may be said that the pine peculiarly

agrees to Neptune, not, as Apollodorus thinks, because it grows by

the sea-side, or because it loves a bleak place (for some give this

reason), but because it is used in building ships; for the pine

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 gives a pleasant seasoning to wine,

for amongst 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 pitch, 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.

2. 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.

3. 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 met with 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 games

To Neptune’s glory now shall be the crown;

The pine shall be disused, which heretofore

In Corinth’s plains successful victors wore.

And beside, 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, ζωρότερον δὲ κέραιε.[84]

NICERATUS, SOSICLES, ANTIPATER, PLUTARCH.

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

he bade Patroclus “mix the wine stronger,” subjoining this reason,

For now I entertain my dearest friends.

But Niceratus a Macedonian, my particular acquaintance, maintained

that ζωρόν did not signify pure but hot wine; as if it were derived

from ζωτικός and ζέσις (_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 Socicles the poet, remembering a saying of Empedocles,

that in the great universal change those things which before were

ἄκρατα, _unmixed_, should then be ζωρά, affirmed that ζωρόν there

signified εὔκρατον, _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 not absurd (he said) to use

ζωρότερον for ζωρόν, any more than δεξιτερόν for δεξιόν, or θηλύτερον

for θῆλυ, for the comparatives are very properly put for the positives.

My friend Antipater said that years were anciently called ὧροι, and

that the particle ζα in composition signified greatness; and therefore

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

ζωρόν.

2. I put them in mind that some imagine that θερμόν, _hot_, is

signified by ζωρότερον, and that hotter means simply faster, as when we

command servants to bestir themselves more hotly or in hotter haste.

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

this supposition, that if ζωρότερον 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, 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 any thing of the same nature given to any other

horses in the whole Iliad. Thus Achilles, being skilled 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.[85]

And in another place very plainly Homer says, that

Many a sleepless night he knew.[86]

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.

1. 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 need 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.

2. 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, but 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.[87]

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

what was seen yesterday at my son’s entertainment, when, as Anaxagoras

said,

All lay jumbled together.

But suppose a man hath room and provision enough, yet a multitude

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’ tent,

And some the other to Achilles’ went.[88]

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 be wealth,

it would be really blind and imprisoned, unless it had witnesses, as

tragedies would be without 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 invite teaches us to select some out of the number of our many

friends. 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 call only 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 birth-day

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 FOR THE GUESTS APPEARS WIDE ENOUGH AFTERWARDS?

After this it was presently asked, why the room which at the beginning

of supper seems too narrow for the guests 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 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 dance-arranger) settles us in a friendly and agreeable order.

_QUESTION VII._

CONCERNING THOSE THAT ARE SAID TO BEWITCH.

METRIUS FLORUS, PLUTARCH, SOCLARUS, PATROCLES, CAIUS.

1. 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 every thing 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 philosophy. The cause why any thing 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.

2. 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 them. And therefore why should any one, that believes men

can be affected and prejudiced by the sight, imagine that they cannot

act and hurt as 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

bitter-sweet 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

everybody 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 hurted 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.

3. Very right, said Patrocles, and you reason well as to changes

wrought upon the body; but as to the soul, which in some measure exerts

the power of witchcraft, how can this give any disturbance by the eye?

Sir, I replied, do not you consider, that the soul, when affected,

works upon the body? Thoughts 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.

4. Well, said Soclarus, but let us try whether the money be all good

or no; for, in my mind, some of it seems brass. For 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 disease....

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?

5. 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 any

thing that is suitable to it; and he that is apt to fall will stumble

at every thing that lies in his way. So that we need not wonder at

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 specular body; for this breathes 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.

6. When I had done, Gaius, 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 are overlooked, disturb and injure them both in

mind and body; for this, I think, is the meaning of that philosopher,

a man in his opinions 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 ἀγλαόκαρπον, AND EMPEDOCLES

CALLS APPLES ὑπέρφλοια.

PLUTARCH, TRYPHO, CERTAIN GRAMMARIANS, LAMPRIAS THE ELDER.

1. 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.[89]

Upon this there arose a question, why the poet calls apple-trees

particularly ἀγλαόκαρποι, _bearing fair fruit_. Trypho the

physician said, that this epithet was given comparatively in respect

of the tree, because, being small and no goodly tree to look upon, it

bears fair and large fruit. Somebody else said, that the particular

excellencies that are scattered amongst all other fruits are united in

this alone. As to the touch, it is smooth and clean, 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.

2. This discourse we liked indifferently well. But whereas Empedocles

has thus written,

Why pomegranates so late do grow.

And apples bear a lovely show (ὑπέρφλοια);

I understand well (said I) the epithet 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 ὑπέρφλοια to apples, I much question, since it

is not his custom to strive to adorn his verses with varieties of

epithets, as with gay and florid colors. But in every verse he

gives some dilucidation of the substance and virtue of the subject

upon which he treats; as when he calls the body encircling the

soul the mortal-encompassing earth; as also when he calls the air

cloud-gathering, and the liver full of blood.

3. When now I had said these things myself, certain grammarians

affirmed, that those apples were called ὑπέρφλοια 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 ψλοίειν.

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 consume,

Their bloom and verdure parching;

calling the greenness of the trees and the blossoming of the fruit

by the name of φλόος. Nay, there are some of the Greeks also who

sacrifice to Bacchus surnamed Φλοῖος. And therefore, seeing the

verdure and floridness chiefly recommend this fruit, philosophers call

it ὑπέρφλοιον. But Lamprias our grandfather said that the word ὑπέρ

did not only denote excess and vehemency, but external and supernal;

thus we call the lintel of a door ὑπέρθυρον, and the upper part of

the house ὑπέρῷον; 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 skins and membranes, but the only husk

that the apple has is a glutinous and smooth tunic (or core) containing

the seed, so that the part which is fit to be eaten, and lies without,

was properly called ὑπέρφλοιον, 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 θρίον. 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

portions 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 περὶ ἅλα καὶ κύμινον,

AND WHY DOES HOMER CALL SALT DIVINE?

FLORUS, APOLLOPHANES, PLUTARCH, PHILINUS.

1. 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 enquire how salt should come

to be so much honored as it is; for Homer plainly says,

And after that he strewed his salt divine,[90]

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?

2. 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 such votaries

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 χάριτας; because it makes food,

which is necessary for life, to be relishing and pleasant.

3. 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, being a sort of protector to 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 thunder-struck 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?

4. 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 stir

up and awaken 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, ἁλμυρὸν καὶ δριμύ, _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 beside, there are no land animals so fruitful as the sea animals;

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 followed 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 over-charged, 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 afforded any pleasure, Xenophon and Plato should have

left us an account not of the 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 enquiry 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 grows 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 FIGURE OF THE PORES OR PASSAGES OF THE BODY.

PHILO, PLUTARCH.

1. 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 any thing 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.

2. 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. Now to deny that this very thing,

which principally distinguishes an animate creature from an inanimate,

conduces to the preservation and duration of such a creature, being

that which craves and receives those things which the body needs

to supply its wants, and, on the contrary, to suppose that such an

appetite arises from the transfiguration or the greater or lesser size

of the pores, is an absurdity worthy only of such as have no regard at

all for Nature. 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 filled on

account of emptiness, but on account of some affection 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,

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 τροφή (from τηροῦν),

because it watches 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.

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 a bath 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 passages receive what is most proper and convenient

for them. Moreover, a fever forces all the moisture downward; and the

middle parts being in a flame, 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 out of 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

passages 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.

1. 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 staid 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 the 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.

2. 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 untouched. 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 dryness, 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. 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 it 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 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.

1. One of the strangers at 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 new-drawn. Now this

gentleman was an indifferent good scholar, and therefore told the

company 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 cooler; 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.

2. 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 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 enquire

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 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.

1. 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.

2. 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 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.

1. Niger, a citizen of ours, was lately come from school, after he

had spent some time under the discipline of a renowned philosopher,

but had learned nothing but those faults by which his master was

offensive and odious to others, especially his habit of reproving

and of carping at whatever upon any occasion chanced to be spoke 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, while it has its natural strength and force. 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

τρυγᾶν, the word being derived from τρύξ, which signifies _lees_;

and Homer in one place calls the fruit of the wine διατρύγιον, and the

wine itself high-colored and red,—not pale and yellow, such as Aristio

gives us to supper, after all goodness is purged out of it.

2. 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 at first sight 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-colored wine which he called αἶθοψ, but

clear and transparent; for otherwise he would never have called brass

αἶθοψ, after he had given it the epithets 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.[91]

So much was allowable, being no more than a careful cleanliness.

But when she comes to call for her golden buttons, her curiously

wrought ear-rings, 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 any thing 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.

1. 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

rights and ceremonies of the sacrifice were over, when we had seated

ourselves again at the table, there was an enquiry 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 π for β. For it was not called by

the ancients βούλιμος but πούλιμος, that is, πολὺς λιμός, _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_ (ναυτιᾶν)

first took its name from men who were stomach-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.

2. But after we began to enquire 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 loaden 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.

3. 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, as was natural.

4. 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.

5. But Cleomenes the physician would have the word λιμός (which

signifies _hunger_) to be added to the making up of the word

βούλιμος without any reason at all; as πίνειν, _to drink_,

has crept into καταπίνειν, _to swallow_; and κύπτειν, _to

incline_, into ἀνακύπτειν _to raise the head_. Nor is bulimy,

as it seems, a kind of hunger, but a fault in the stomach, which

concurring with heat causes a faintness. 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.