CHAPTER X
THE SCARUS—THE EARLIEST ACCLIMATISATION OF FISH—THE FIRST NOTICE “FISHING PROHIBITED”
From the wealth of copious yet conflicting accounts of this famous fish in Greek and Roman writers, a large monograph might be produced.[367] I restrict myself to a short notice of the acclimatisation of the fish, and of the controversies on its value, as (A) a Dainty, and (B) a Diet.
The original habitat of the Scarus was in the seas off Asia Minor, especially in the Carpathian Sea. During the Augustan age it was rarely taken in Italian waters, and then only when driven thither by storms. Thus Horace complains that neither Lucrine oysters nor Rhombi come his way,
“aut scari, Si quos Eois intonata fluctibus Hiems ad hoc vertat mare.” (Ep., II. 50 ff.)
Pliny (IX. 29), after attributing to the Scarus the unique characteristic of being herbivorous and never feeding on other fish and asserting that of its own accord it never passes from the Carpathian Sea beyond Cape Troas, goes on to tell us that in the time of Tiberius (or Octavius, according to Macrobius) vast quantities at the Emperor’s command were collected by an Admiral of the Fleet and planted along the Ostian and Campanian shores.
Careful protection by land and sea rendered poaching almost impossible. For the period of five years any scarus caught in the nets had, under heavy penalties, to be returned straightway to the water. The enforcement of these wise regulations effected such mighty thriving of the fish, that “postea frequentes inveniuntur Italiæ in litore, non antea ibi capti; admovitque sibi gula sapores piscibus satis et novum incolam mari dedit.”
This operation commands our comment, not merely on account of its big success, but because it is the earliest and (as far as I can discover) the only instance in all ancient literature, certainly in Greek and Latin, of the acclimatisation of fish (not eggs) in the sea, and on a large scale.
I do not include, though I do not forget, the large lucrative planting of oysters in the Lucrine lake by Sergius Orata centuries before.[368] Later on we shall read of the Romans carrying eggs, naturally fertilised, from one water to another, and of the Chinese[369] transporting vast quantities of similar eggs considerable distances.
But their methods and operations differed from the Emperor’s. Pliny expressly states that the Admiral planted fish, not eggs of fish, in the sea, not in fresh water, and in a new habitat hundreds of miles from the old.
To this planting or involuntary colonisation, Petronius—seemingly, despite controversy, the “Elegantiæ Arbiter,” or the not altogether Admirable Crichton, of Tacitus—probably alludes:
“ultimus ab oris Attractus scarus atque arata Syrtis Si quid naufragio dedit, probatur.”[370]
Poets and gourmets have vied in singing the praises of the fish as the daintiest of dishes—“according to the Greeks to do justice to its flesh was not easy: to speak of its trail, as it deserved, was impossible, and to throw away even its excrement was a sin.” Confirmatory of Badham reads the pronouncement of magnus ille et subtilis helluo, “that great and exquisite gourmet” Archestratus, who from the grandiloquence and gravity of his Epic was evidently of opinion omne cum fidibus helluoni![371]
Epicharmus the comedian in his Hebe’s Wedding (frag. 54, Kaibel),
καὶ σκάους, τῶν οὐδὲ τὸ σκᾶρ θέμιτον ἐκβαλεῖν θεοῖς,[372]
“Not even their trail is it lawful for the gods to throw away,”
summarises the wild infatuation of the Greeks for the scarus, while from Ennius[373] some centuries later is extorted,
“Quid scarus? præterii cerebrum Jovis pæne supremi: Nestoris ad patriam his capitur magnusque bonusque.”
Although Pliny (IX. 29) definitely asserts “Nunc scaro datur principatus,” we find Martial within a few years dismissing the fish as of poor flavour—its only redeeming point the trail, which is excellent,
“Hic scarus, æquoreis qui venit obesus ab undis, Visceribus bonus est, cetera vile sapit.” (XIII. 84).[374]
In the curious and rare Ichtyophagia (the omission of the second ‘h’ of the theta may be a printer’s error) by the learned Doctor Ludovicus Nonnius, published at Antwerp in 1616—a treasure-house from which I quote much and take more—an attempt is made to explain these diametrically opposed estimates. Nonnius asserts that as among the common herd only those fish which have fat flesh find favour or yield good flavour, and as the Scarus possesses a drier and more flaky flesh, “a plebis illis palatis spernebatur.”
This deals a nasty knock to poor Martial, who plumed himself on his taste as a gourmet, acquired (he fails to add) at the banquets and entertainments of his patrician friends or wealthy patrons.
Medical controversy, rarely absent, as to wholesomeness for once hardly exists. Galen, Diphilus, Xenocrates all agree as to the Scarus, although the last warns us that it is “hard to pass off in perspiration!” (δυσδιαφόρητος).[375] Galen pronounces fish who haunt the rocks the most wholesome[376]: of these, the Scarus is by far the best. Diphilus the Siphnian on the whole agrees, but condemns it as dangerous when fresh (!) because it hunts and feeds on the poisonous sea-hare and so frequently causes cholera morbus.[377]
But according to Ælian, IX. 51, the Mullet (τρίγλη) was held by the initiates of the Eleusinian Mysteries in the greatest honour, for one or other of two curious reasons: the first, because it brings forth its young thrice a year[378], and second, because it eats the sea-hare, who bears death to man.[379]
Nonnius (p. 81) informs us that the followers of Pythagoras were forbidden to eat the Scarus because it was τρυγηφάγος, i.e. an eater of grain or grapes, whence or how obtained he vouchsafes not to inform us.[380] It is of interest to read in Faber (op. cit., p. 27) that the common seal (Phoca vitulina) is believed at the present time to go ashore in the Ombla Valley in quest of grapes during the vintage, and is also said to commit great havoc in the vineyards of Sardinia and Sicily!
But for once Nonnius naps! Although, according to tradition, Pythagoras proscribed all fish, three kinds only are expressly and by name forbidden (in Symbols 18, 19, 60), viz. the Melanurus, the Erythinius, and the Sepia; nothing is said about the Scarus.
I presume that the error arose from Nonnius confusing a passage in Plutarch (Symp., VIII. 8, 3.) where à propos of Pythagoras, τρυγηφάγος is associated with the Scarus, but in exactly the opposite sense, “for we can not call the Mullet corn-destroying, or the Scarus grape-eating,” etc.
Again our Nonnius! By a passage from Pliny, XXXII. 3, he attempts to clear the Scarus and throw the blame for cholera on the Mullet.
But Pliny distinctly states that alone of all animals the fish called the Mullet, when he can annex no other food, eats the sea-hare without fatal consequences, after which he “tenerescit tantum et ingratior[381] viliorque fit.” These Mullet, sold by fraudulent fishermen as Scari, caused the indictment of Diphilus. Rondolet bears witness that near Massilia similar sales took place “ab imperitis piscatoribus,” but surely “too skilled” would be the better epithet. It is but fair to add that Athen., VIII. 51, asserts that the Scarus also eats the sea-hare.
For this long discursus, the repute of the Scarus, the disputes of epicures and of doctors whether it be a dainty, or a sound diet, and the exclusive properties attributed to it by Greek and Roman writers must be my excuse.
Summarising these last, we find that the Scarus, in addition to being the most passionate in his love[382], alone of all fishes,
(A) Is not a cannibal, but a vegetarian (Pliny, IX. 29). Oppian claims for the mugil—grey mullet—that it is the only non-carnivorous fish (II. 642-3). Couch gives as his considered opinion, “Mugil capito is the only fish of which I am able to express my belief that it usually selects for its food nothing that has life.” Modern authorities have established that the scarus feeds on molluscs also.
(B) Seems to ruminate or does ruminate.[383]
(C) Belongs to,
“The only kind that dare To form shrill sounds, and strike the trembling air.”[384]
(D) Sleeps at night.[385]
“Scarus alone their faded eyelids close In grateful intervals of soft repose.” (Oppian, II. 661 ff.)
But Aristotle (and, of course, Pliny) hold that most, perhaps all, fish do sleep, even if their eyelids are not closed: at any rate Tunnies and all flatfish do, while Pliny (X. 97) goes as far as asserting that “Dolphins and whales can be heard to snore!”
(E) Has plain, not sharp or jagged, teeth.[386]
(F) Never deserts his fellow fish. If he have swallowed a bait, his friends flock around him and liberate him by biting the line in two. If he be caught in trap or weel, they approaching very delicately give the prisoner the choice of (a) gripping with his teeth a tail “by which he is dragged through the mesh of twigs,” or (b) of pushing through his own tail, which they (outside) seize, and pull him through the weel backwards—thus avoiding damage from the twigs to the eyes of the captive.[387]
This devotion to his imprisoned fellow was turned to good account by fishermen. Fastening a hook in the jaw of and trailing a net behind a female scarus (preferably alive) they secured large catches by dropping the lead, which reversed the net and enmeshed the would-be rescuers. With the seed of the coriander Scari are taken “with a vengeance!”[388]
Ælian (I. 4) concludes a similar story, probably purloined from Oppian, for he was an adept in picking up unconsidered and unacknowledged trifles, with, “These things do they, as men do: but to do loving-kindness are they born, not taught”; which demonstrates that the invaluable Scarus provides men, not only with a menu, but also a moral!
If we cannot absolutely claim for Martial the first mention of the jointed Fishing Rod and the natural or artificial Fly, we are safe in acclaiming him the author of the first notice, “Fishing strictly prohibited,” or “Chasse défendue,” in his
“Baiano procul a lacu recede, Piscator: fuge, ne nocens recedas.” (IV. 30.)
This epigram furnishes Bunsmann with one of the only three acts of Impietas which he can allege against the blameless race of fishermen. Martial here solemnly warns a fellow craftsman against fishing in the lake of Baiæ, because (1) the fish there are sacred to the Emperor Domitian, (2) a previous intruder was smitten blind in the very act of landing his fish, so that—and here comes a touch of the true angler—“he could not see his spoil.”
The pretty compliment, veiled in the words “sacred fish,” ranks Domitian as a god, because, as at many temples of the gods fish were held sacred, so at his Baian abode the fish had been shown by divine action to be sacred. But the fulsome bluntness of “than whom in the whole world there is none mightier” mars the effect. Lest, however, his friend might think that “Not twice in this world shall the Gods do thus,” or deem the superhuman sanction played out, Martial adjures him to throw to the fish some plain hookless food, and “dum potes, innocens recede.”
These Baian fish were evidently not as sophisticated or as discriminating as their neighbours, the Melanuri, which greedily snatch food thrown into the sea, but to any bit whatsoever containing a hook they approach neither delicately, nor at all.[389]
In case some reader, fired by the fame of Theocritus or Martial, imagine an easy affluence by writing Fisher Eclogues or Fisher Epigrams, I refer him to Martial’s other warning, where he states that a written copy of one of his books could be bought for about fourpence halfpenny (considerably cheaper than a printed one now) and that with a profit to the bookseller![390]
The seeming naïveté of Martial’s appeal to a buyer and of his recommendation that the book, which describes presents, would be for a man like himself not too flush of coin, an admirable present to send at the Saturnalia, incites me to give the whole, if fishless, passage.
The hint of how to get rid of their surplus stock or “remainders” at Christmas may avail our present poetasters in these days of economy and war taxes. “The whole collection of Xenia” (distichs describing certain kinds of viands so-called) “in this thin book will cost you four sesterces to buy. Is four too much? You may get it (in a cheaper form) for two, and even that will leave a profit to the bookseller. This book itself, which describes presents, may be sent as a present at the Saturnalia, if you have not much money to spare, like myself.”
Manuscript books at Rome cost even less than printed books do now. This seeming inconsistency was effected by a large number of slaves writing rapidly at the dictation of one person, and so multiplying copies very cheaply and easily.
By such means, no doubt, was published Acta Diurna, the fly sheet or daily newspaper of Rome. Composed originally of the reports of lawsuits, births, deaths, marriages, and the almost equally numerous divorces, it came to contain in the time of Julius Cæsar the debates and Acta of the Senate, and later the news collected and conveyed by constant couriers from all parts of the Empire.[391]
VENUS AND CUPID ANGLING.
From the Real Museo Borbonico, vol. iv. pl. 4.