Archestratos, the Syracusan, belonged no doubt to this class. He composed an epic poem on good eating, which commenced with recommending that no company, assembled for convivial enjoyment, should ever exceed four,[[810]] or at most five, otherwise he said they would rather resemble a troop of banditti than gentlemen. It had probably escaped him, that there were twenty-eight guests at Plato’s banquet. Antiphanes, after observing that the parasites had lynx’s eyes to discover a good dinner though never invited, immediately adds, that the republic ought to get up an entertainment for them, upon the same principle that during the games an ox[[811]] was slaughtered some distance from the course at Olympia, to feast the flies, and prevent them from devouring the spectators.
Besides Archestratos, there were several other celebrated gastronomers among the ancients. Of these the principal were Timachidas, of Rhodes, who wrote a poem in eleven books on good eating,[[812]] Noumenios, of Heraclea, pupil to the physician Dieuches, Metreas, of Pitana, the parodist Hegemon, of Thasos, surnamed the Lentil, by some reckoned among the poets of the old comedy, Philoxenos, of Leucadia, and a second Philoxenos, of Cythera, who composed his work in hexameter verse. The former, after chaunting the eulogium of the kettle, comes nevertheless to the conclusion at last, that superior merit belongs to the frying-pan[frying-pan]. He earnestly recommended truffles to lovers, but would not have them touch the barbel. His anger burst forth with great vehemence against those who cut in pieces fish which should be served up whole; and, though he admits that a polypus may occasionally be boiled, it was much better, he says, to fry it. From this man the Philoxenian cakes derived their name; and he it is whom Chrysippos reproaches with half scalding his fingers in the warm bath and gargling his throat with hot water, in order that he might be able to swallow kabobs hissing from the coals.[[813]] He likewise used, at the houses of his friends, to bribe the cooks to bring up everything fiery hot, that he might help himself before any one else could touch them. A kindred gourmand, in the poet Krobylos, exclaims: “My fingers are insensible to fire like the Dactyls of Mount Ida. And ah! how delightful it is to refresh my throat with the crackling flakes of broiled fish! Oh I am in fact an oven, not a man!”
According to Clearchos it was this same Philoxenos, who used to maraud about rich men’s houses, followed by a number of slaves laden with wine, vinegar, oil, and other seasonings. Wherever he smelled the best dinner he dropped in unasked, and slipping slily among the cooks, obtained their permission to season the dishes they were preparing, after which he took his place among the guests where he fed like a Cyclops. Arriving once at Ephesos, by sea, he found, upon inquiry in the market, that all the best fish had been secured for a wedding feast. Forthwith he bathed, and repairing to the house of the bridegroom, demanded permission to sing the Epithalamium. Every one was delighted; they could do no less than invite him to dinner. And “Will you come again to-morrow?” inquired the generous host. “If there be no fish in the market,” replied Philoxenos. It was this gourmand who wished nature had bestowed on man the neck of the crane that the pleasure of swallowing might be prolonged.[[814]]
Pithyllos, another parasite, surnamed “the Dainty,” not content with the membrane which nature has spread over the tongue, superinduced artificially a sort of mucous covering, which retained for a considerable time the flavour of what he ate.[[815]] To prolong his luxurious enjoyment as much as possible, he afterwards scraped away this curious coating with a fish. Of all ancient gourmands he alone is said to have made use of artificial finger-points, that he might be enabled to seize upon the hottest morsels. An anecdote so good as to have given rise to many modern imitations, is related of Philoxenos, of Cythera. Dining one day with Dionysios, of Syracuse, he observed a large barbel served up to the prince, while a very diminutive one was placed before him. Upon this, taking up the little fish, he held it to his ear and appeared to be listening attentively. Dionysios, expecting some humorous extravagance, made a point of inquiring the meaning of this movement, and Philoxenos replied, that happening just then to think of his Galatea,[[816]] he was questioning the barbel respecting her. But as it makes no answer, said he, I imagine they have taken him too young and that he does not understand me. I am persuaded, however, that the old fellow they have placed before your majesty must know all about it. The king, amused by his ingenuity, immediately sent him the larger fish which he soon questioned effectually.[[817]]
But the Athenians were not reduced to depend for amusement at table upon the invention of these humble companions. They knew how, when occasion required, to entertain themselves, and, in the exuberance of their hilarity, descended for this purpose to contrivances almost infantine. They posed each other with charades, enigmas, conundrums, and, sometimes, in the lower classes of society, related stories of witches, lamias, mormos, and other hobgoblins believed in by the vulgar of all nations. Among persons engaged in public affairs the excitement of political discussion was often, of course, intermingled with their more quiet pleasures.[[818]] But with this we have, just now, nothing to do, nor with the enigmas which we shall describe anon. There was another and more elegant practice observed by the Greeks at convivial meetings, which, though not peculiar to them, has nowhere else, perhaps, prevailed to the same extent,—I mean the introduction of music and the singing of songs,[[819]] light, graceful, and instinct with wit and gaiety, to the barbitos or the lyre.
Among the Greeks, generally, the love of music and poetry seemed to be a spontaneous impulse of nature. Almost every act of life was accompanied by a song,—the weaver at his loom, the baker at his kneading-trough, the reaper, the “spinners and the knitters in the sun,” the drawer of water, even the hard-working wight who toiled at the mill, had his peculiar song, by the chaunting of which he lightened his labour. The mariner, too, like the Venetian gondolier, sang at the oar, and the shepherd and the herdsman, the day-labourer and the swineherd, the vintager and the husbandman, the attendant in the baths, and the nurse beside the cradle. It might, in fact, be said, that from an Hellenic village music arose as from a brake in spring. Their sensibilities were tremblingly alive to pleasure. There was elasticity, there was balm in their atmosphere, and joy and freedom in their souls.—How could they do other than sing?
But, if music and poetry thus diffused their delights over the industry of the laborious, it was quite natural that where men met solely for enjoyment, these best handmaids of enjoyment should not be absent. Accordingly, we find that while the goblet circulated, kindling the imagination, and unbending the mind, the lyre was brought in and a song called for. Nor was the custom of recent date. It prevailed equally in the heroic ages, and, like many other features of Greek manners, derived its origin from religion. For, in early times, men rarely met at a numerous banquet, except on occasion of some sacrifice, when hymns in honour of the gods constituted an important part of the ceremonies. Thus Homer, describing the grand expiatory rites by which the Achæan host sought to avert the wrath of Apollo, observes, that they made great feasts, and celebrated the praises of the god amid their flowing goblets.[[820]]
Yet, though the theme of those primitive songs may have been at first serious, it was, probably, not long before topics better adapted to festive meetings obtained the preference. At all events, they soon came to be in fashion. The first step appears to have been from the gods to the heroes, whose achievements, being sometimes tinged with the ludicrous, opened the door to much gay and lively description. And these convivial pleasures,[[821]] so highly valued on earth, were, with great consistency, transferred to Olympos, where the immortals themselves were thought to heighten their enjoyments by songs and merriment.
In the ages following, the art of enhancing thus the delights of social intercourse, so far from falling into neglect, grew to be more than ever cultivated. Even the greatest men, beginning from the Homeric Achilles, disdained not to sing. They did not, says a judicious and learned writer, consider it sufficient to perform deeds worthy of immortality, or to be the theme of poets and musicians, or so far to cultivate their minds as to be able to relish and appreciate the songs of others, but included music within the circle of their own studies, as an accomplishment without which no man could pretend to be liberally educated. For this reason it was objected by Stesimbrotos, as a reproach to Cimon, that he was ignorant of music, and every other gentlemanly accomplishment held in estimation among the Greeks;[[822]] and even Themistocles himself incurred the charge of rusticity, because, when challenged at a party, he refused to play on the cithara.[[823]]
A different theory of manners prevailed among the Romans, who, like the modern Turks, considered it unbecoming a gentleman to sing. But to the Greeks, a people replete with gaiety and ardour, and whose amusements always partook largely of poetry, music presented itself under a wholly different aspect, and was so far from appearing a mean or sordid study, that no branch of education was held in higher honour, or esteemed more efficacious in promoting tranquillity of mind, or polish and refinement of manners. The lyre is accordingly said, by Homer, to be a divine gift, designed to be the companion and friend of feasts, where it proved the source of numerous advantages. In the first place, persons too much addicted to the bottle found in this instrument an ally against their own failing, for, whether playing or listening, a cessation from drinking was necessarily effected. Rudeness also and violence, and that unbridled audacity commonly inspired by wine, were checked by music, which, in their stead, inspired a pleasing exaltation of mind, and joy free from all admixture of passion.[[824]]