8. The κάπρος—by some identified with the Aper, by some translated the “Sea-Hog.” Neither scientifically, nor in my list can I place this fish; it was apparently unknown to the Romans.
Of the fish as Caper, except in Ennius,[662] “Caproque apud Ambracienses,” and Pliny, XI. 112, “et is qui caper vocatur,” Latin literature is silent. Nor do these two quotations aid, because the first occurs in the poet’s imitation or translation of Archestratus (Apul., Apol., p. 384), while Pliny simply transliterates Aristotle’s κάπρος.[663]
Of its right to be near the top of the list, the words of Nonnius bear high proof: “Among the fishes which the Greeks sought with mad desire, and at any cost to procure, was first and foremost the κάπρος, which, though called Aper, was unknown to the Romans.”
Archestratus[664] outdoes even himself in his eulogy of this fish, for he straightly enjoins any one lucky enough to be in Ambracia,
“Buy it at once, and let it not escape you, Not if you buy it at its weight in gold; Else will the indignation of the gods O’erpower you: for ’tis the Flower of Nectar.”
The immediate sequel to these lines is of interest. The poet, transported from earth to heaven at the thought of his favourite dainty, describes it in wording which recalls the most solemn rites of Hellenic religion. There were certain foods reserved for communicants. There were mysteries which none but advanced initiates might witness. There were objects of peculiar sanctity borne by virginal ministrants. There were divinatory pebbles shaken in the glittering caldron of Apollo. These sacred associations are all suggested by the language of our enthusiast:
“It is not meet for every man to taste, Nor see it with his eyes. Nay, he must hold The hollow woven-work of marsh-grown wicker And rattle pebbles in his glittering count.”
But the words, though reminiscent of actual cult, have a double entendre and are meant to bear a more mundane meaning. In plain prose, then, “it needs a wealthy man with capacious cash-box (literally a basket, fiscus) and a rattling big bank-account (pebbles to reckon L. S. D.) to afford such a luxury as this!”
Not far behind it among Greek epicures came the Glaucus, possibly the sea-grayling, of whose “most precious head” Anaxandrides is enamoured, and Antiphanes and Julius Pollux write with appreciative gusto. But are not all things about the Glaucus written in the seventh book of the Deipnosophistæ, chapters 45, 46, and 47?
9. The Buglossus, or Lingulaca (Solea vulgaris, the “Sole”[665]), alike at Rome and at Athens the most prized, if not the most lauded in verse, of the Flatfish, held rank as high as any, actually far higher than its so-called cousin, the Passer.