Chapter XXXV: A Roman Supper 386

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES 399

MODERN BANQUETS 401

TABLE OF REFERENCES 413

TABLE OF RECIPES 444

INDEX 449

List of Illustrations.

Page
PLATE A.

FRONTISPIECE--PORTRAIT OF THE AUTHOR.

PLATE B.

HEAVEN AND EARTH.

PLATE B.*

VICTUA, OR THE GODDESS OF GASTRONOMY.

PLATE I.

EGYPTIAN LABOURERS.--No. 1, Egyptian Labourer. No. 2, Sketch of a Plough. No. 3, Basket. No. 4, Egyptian with Sickle, drawn by Horses 12

PLATE II.

GREEK AND ROMAN PLOUGHS.--Nos. 1 and 2, Greek and Roman Ploughs. No. 3, Plough, turned once or twice. No. 4, Plough, as used by the Gauls 14

PLATE III.

AGRICULTURAL IMPLEMENTS.--No. 1, Plain Sickle. No. 2A, Plough, from the Georgics of Virgil. No. 3, Scythe. No. 4, Spade. No. 5, Pick-axe. Nos. 6 and 7, Mattocks 16

PLATE IV.

ALCINOUS’S HAND-MILL 25

PLATE V.

JUMENTARIÆ MILLS 26

PLATE VI.

PLAUTUS’S HAND-MILL 27

PLATE VII.

CAPPADOCIA BREAD.--No. 1, Loaf of Bread. No. 2, Pastry Mould. No. 3, Cappadocia Bread. No. 4, Mould for ditto 38

PLATE VIII.

SCALES AND WEIGHTS 130

PLATE IX.

VARRO’S AVIARY 198

PLATE X.

APICIUS AND EPICURUS 201

PLATE XI.

REMAINS OF KITCHEN STOVES.--No. 1, Kitchen Stove. No. 2. Stock Pot. No. 3, Ditto. No. 4, Ladles. No. 5, Brazier 259

PLATE XII.

STOCK POTS AND BROKEN STEWPAN 261

PLATE XIII.

KITCHEN UTENSILS.--No. 1, Boiler, of Bronze. No. 2, Flat Saucepan. No. 3, Kettle. No. 4, Gridiron. No. 5, Trivet 262

PLATE XIV.

CHAFING-DISH AND SILVER CUP.--No. 1, Chafing-Dish. No. 2, Silver Cup 263

PLATE XV.

SPOON, FORK, KNIFE, SIMPULUM, &c.--No. 1, Roman Silver Spoon. No. 2, Brass Knife. No. 3, Simpulum. No. 4, Ditto. No. 5, Fork 264

PLATE XVI.

ROMAN SILVER KNIFE-HANDLE, SILVER SPOON, AND DEEP DISH.--No. 1, Silver Knife-handle. No. 2, Spoon. No. 3, Dish 265

PLATE XVII.

ROMAN AND EGYPTIAN PAILS.--No. 1, Pail, of Bronze. No. 2, Pail, with Two Handles (Egyptian) 297

PLATE XVIII.

DRINKING-CUPS.--No. 1, Drinking-Cups (Shaded). No. 2, Ditto, Pig’s Head and Dog’s Head 316

PLATE XVIII.A

DRINKING-CUPS.--No. 3, Ram’s Head. No. 4, Boar’s Head 317

PLATE XIX.

DRINKING-HORNS.--Nos. 1 and 2, Drinking-Horns. No. 3, Horn, Aztec’s Head 318

PLATE XX.

CRYSTAL VASE 319

PLATE XXI.

MURRHIN CUP 321

PLATE XXII.

RELICS FROM HERCULANEUM.--No. 1, Wine Press. No. 2, Diogenes. No. 3, Beast of Burthen (a toy) 325

PLATE XXIII.

COLUM NIVARUM 327

PLATE XXIV.

VESSELS FOR HOLDING WINE.--No. 1, Amphora. Nos. 2 and 3, Smaller Dolium. No. 4, Long-neck Bottle 328

PLATE XXV.

VASES FOR WINE.--No. 1, Large Vase. No. 2, Glass Vase. No. 3, Glass Bottle, with Cup 363

PLATE XXVI.

VASES FOR WINE.--No. 1, Glass Vase. No. 2, Ditto. No. 3, Etruscan, Three Handles. No. 4, Large Silver Vase. No. 5, Cantharus 364

PLATE XXVI.A

CURIOUS ORNAMENTAL TERRA-COTTA CUPS.--No. 1, Goose. No. 2, Teapot. No. 3, Jupiter’s Head 365

PLATE XXVI.B

HOUSE OF BRUNSWICK’S VASE 366

PLATE XXVII.

VASES FOR WINE.--No. 1, Etruscan Flat Vase. No. 2, Marble Vase. No. 3, Metal Vase. No. 4, Greek Etruscan Drinking Vase 370

PLATE XXVIII.

PROCILLATORES AND TRICLINIUM.--No. 1, Procillatores. No. 2, Triclinium 378

PLATE XXIX. ROMAN SUPPER 386

PLATE XXX.

No. 1, Greek Etruscan Vase. No. 2, Greek Terra-Cotta Vase. No. 3, Etruscan Terra-Cotta Vase. No. 4, Glass Amphora, for Falernian Wine. No. 5, Terra-Cotta Amphora, for Falernian Wine 390

PLATE XXX.*

CRATER, OR DRINKING CUP 391

PLATE XXXI.

No. 1, Curious Silver Dish. Nos. 2 and 3, Silver ditto 392

PLATE XXXII.

NERO AND HELIOGABALUS 398

PLATE XXXIII.

YORK BANQUET 404

PLATE XXXIV.

WILD BOAR A LA TROYENNE, AND THE HUNDRED GUINEA DISH 406

PLATE XXXV.

THREE SILVERED GLASS CUPS 407

THIS WORK

Is Dedicated by the Author

TO THE

GENIUS OF GASTRONOMY.

PANTROPHEON.

“I did feast with Cæsar.”
SHAKSPERE.--“_Julius Cæsar_,” Act iii., _Sc._ 3.

“Dis-moi, ce que tu manges,
Je te dirai ce que tu es.”
BRILLAT-SAVARIN.--“_Physiologie du Goût._”

Thanks to the impressions received in boyhood, Rome and Athens always present themselves to our minds accompanied by the din of arms, shouts of victory, or the clamours of plebeians crowded round the popular tribune. “And yet,” said we, “nations, like individuals, have two modes of existence distinctly marked--one intellectual and moral, the other sensual and physical; and both continue to interest through the lapse of ages.”

What, for instance, calls forth our sympathies more surely than to follow from the cradle that city of Romulus--at first so weak, so obscure, and so despised--through its prodigious developments, until, having become the sovereign mistress of the world, it seems, like Alexander, to lament that the limits of the globe restrict within so narrow a compass its ungovernable ardour for conquest, its insatiable thirst of _opima spolia_ and tyrannical oppression. In like manner, a mighty river, accounted as nothing at its source, where a child can step across, receives in its meandrous descent the tribute of waters, which roll on with increasing violence, and rush at last from their too narrow bed to inundate distant plains, and spread desolation and terror.

History has not failed to record, one by one, the battles, victories, and defeats of nations which no longer exist; it has described their public life,--their life in open air,--the tumultuous assemblies of the forum,--the fury of the populace,--the revolts of the camps,--the barbarous spectacles of those amphiteatres, where the whole pagan universe engaged in bloody conflict, where gladiators were condemned to slaughter one another for the pastime of the over-pampered inhabitants of the Eternal City--sanguinary spectacles, which often consigned twenty or thirty thousand men to the jaws of death in the space of thirty days!

But, after all, neither heroes, soldiers, nor people, can be always at war; they cannot be incessantly at daggers drawn on account of some open-air election; the applause bestowed on a skilful and courageous _bestiarius_ is not eternal; captives may be poignarded in the Circus by way of amusement, but only for a time. Independently of all these things, there is the home, the fire-side, the prose of life, if you will; nay, let us say it at once, the business of life--eating and drinking.

It is to that we have devoted our vigils, and, in order to arrive at our aim, we have given an historical sketch of the vegetable and animal alimentation of man from the earliest ages; therefore it will be easily understood why we have taken the liberty of saying to the austere Jew, the voluptuous Athenian, the obsequious or vain-glorious senator of imperial Rome, and even to the fantastical, prodigal, and cruel Cæsars: “Tell me what thou eatest, and I will tell thee who thou art.”

But, it must be confessed that our task was surrounded with difficulties, and required much laborious patience and obstinate perseverance. It is easy to penetrate into the temples, the baths, and the theatres of the ancients; not so to rummage their cellars, pantries, and kitchens, and study the delicate magnificence of their dining-rooms. Now it was there, and there alone, that we sought to obtain access.

With that view we have had recourse to the only possible means: we have interrogated those old memoirs of an extinct civilisation which connect the present with the past; poets, orators, historians, philosophers, epistolographers, writers on husbandry, and even those who are the most frivolous or the most obscure--we have consulted all, examined all, neglected nothing. Our respectful curiosity has often emboldened us to peep into the sacred treasure of the annals of the people of God; and sometimes the doctors of the Primitive Church have furnished us with interesting traits of manners and customs, together with chance indications of domestic usages, disseminated, and, as it were, lost in the midst of grave moral instruction.

The fatigue of these unwonted researches appeared to us to be fully compensated by the joy we experienced on finding our hopes satisfied by some new discovery. Like the botanist, who forgets his lassitude at the unexpected sight of a desired plant, we no longer remembered the dust of fatidical volumes, nor the numberless leaves we had turned over, when by a happy chance our gastronomic enthusiasm espied a curious and rare dish.

Thus it is that this work--essay, we ought to call it--has been slowly and gradually augmented with the spoils of numerous writers of antiquity, both religious and profane.

We have avoided, as much as possible, giving to this book a didactic and magisterial character, which would have ill-accorded with the apparent lightness of the subject, and might have rendered it tedious to most readers. We know not whether these researches will be considered instructive, but we hope they will amuse.

When we compare the cookery of the ancients with our own--and the parallel naturally presents itself to the mind--it often betrays strange anomalies, monstrous differences, singular perversions of taste, and incomprehensible amalgamations, which baffle every attempt at justification. Apicius himself, or perhaps the Cœlius of the 3rd century, to whom we owe the celebrated treatise “_De Opeoniis_,” would run great risk--if he were now to rise from his tomb, and attempted to give vogue to his ten books of recipes--either of passing for a poisoner or of being put under restraint as a subject decidedly insane. It follows, then, that although we have borrowed his curious lucubrations, we leave to the Roman epicurean and to his times the entire responsibility of his work.

The reader will also remark, in the course of this volume, asserted facts of a striking oddity, certain valuations which appear to be exaggerated, some descriptions he will pronounce fabulous or impossible. Now, we have never failed to give our authorities, but we are far from being willing to add our personal guarantee; so that we leave all those antique frauds--if any--to be placed to the account of the writers who have traitorously furnished them.

We think, however, that most persons will peruse with some interest (and, let us hope, a little indulgence) these studies on an art which, like all arts invented by necessity or inspired by pleasure, has kept pace with the genius of nations, and became more refined and more perfect in proportion as they themselves became more polite.

It appears that the luxury and enchantments of the table were first appreciated by the Assyrians and Persians, those voluptuous Asiatics, who, by reason of the enervating mildness of the climate, were powerless to resist sensual seductions.

Greece--“beloved daughter of the gods”--speedily embellished the culinary art with all the exquisite delicacy of her poetic genius. “The people of Athens,” says an amiable writer, whom we regret to quote from memory, “took delight in exercising their creative power, in giving existence to new arts, in enlarging the aureola of civilisation. At their voice, the gods hastened to inhabit the antique oak; they disported in the fountains and the streams; they dispersed themselves in gamesome groups on the tops of the mountains and in the shade of the valleys, while their songs and their balmy breath mingled with the harmonious whisperings of the gentle breeze.”

What cooks! what a table! what guests! in that Eden of paganism--that land of intoxicating perfumes, of generous wines, and inexhaustible laughter! The Lacedæmonians alone, those cynics of Greece, threw a saddening shade over the delicious picture of present happiness undisturbed by any thought of to-morrow.

Let us not forget that an Athenian, not less witty than nice, and, moreover, a man of good company, has left us this profound aphorism: “_La viande la plus délicate est celle qui est le moins viande; le poisson le plus exquis est celui qui est le moins poisson._”

Rome was long renowned for her austere frugality, and it is remarked that, during more than five centuries, the art of making bread was there unknown, which says little for her civilisation and intelligence. Subsequently, the conquest of Greece, the spoils of the subjugated world, the prodigious refinements of the Syracusans, gave to the conquered nations, says Juvenal, a complete revenge on their conquerors. The unheard-of excesses of the table swallowed up patrimonies which seemed to be inexhaustible, and illustrious dissipators obtained a durable but sad renown.

The Romans had whimsical tastes, since they dared serve the flesh of asses and dogs, and ruined themselves to fatten snails. But, after all, the caprices of fashion, rather than the refinement of sensuality, compelled them to adopt these strange aliments. Paulus Æmilius, no doubt a good judge in such matters, formed a high opinion of the elegance displayed by his compatriots in the entertainments; and he compared a skilful cook, at the moment when he is planning and arranging a repast, to a great general.

We were very anxious to enrich our “PANTROPHEON” with a greater number of _Bills of Fare_, or details of banquets; but we have become persuaded that it is very difficult, at the present day, to procure a complete and accurate account of the arrangement of feasts at which were seated guests who died two or three thousand years ago. Save and except the indications--more or less satisfactory, but always somewhat vague--which we gather on this subject from Petronius, Athenæus, Apuleius, Macrobius, Suetonius, and some other writers, we can do little more than establish analogies, make deductions, and reconstruct the entire edifice of an antique banquet by the help of a few data, valuable, without doubt, but almost always incomplete.

One single passage in Macrobius--a curious monument of Roman cookery--will supply the place of multiplied researches: it is the description of a supper given by the Pontiff Lentulus on the day of his reception. We present it to the amateurs of the magiric art:

“The first course (_ante-cœna_) was composed of sea-hedgehogs, raw oysters in abundance, all sorts of shell-fish, and asparagus. The second service comprised a fine fatted pullet, a fresh dish of oysters, and other shell-fish, different kinds of dates, univalvular shell-fish (as whelks, conchs, &c.), more oysters, but of different kinds, sea-nettles, beccaficoes, chines of roe-buck and wild boar, fowls covered with a perfumed paste, a second dish of shell-fish, and purples--a very costly kind of Crustacea. The third and last course presented several _hors-d’œuvre_, a wild boar’s head, fish, a second set of _hors-d’œuvre_, ducks, potted river fish, leverets, roast fowls, and cakes from the marshes of Ancona.”

All these delicacies would very much surprise an epicurean of the present day, particularly if they were offered to him in the order indicated by Macrobius. The text of that writer, as it is handed down to us, may be imperfect or mutilated; again, he may have described the supper of Lentulus from memory, regardless of the order prescribed for those punctilious and learned transitions to which a feast owes all its value.

Let us, we would say, in addressing our culinary colleagues, avoid those deplorable _lacunes_; let us preserve for future generations, who may be curious concerning our gastronomic pomp, the minutiæ of our memorable magiric meetings, prompted, almost without exception, by some highly civilising idea--a love of the arts, the commercial propagandism, or a feeling of philanthropy. The Greeks and Romans--egotists, if there ever were any--supped for themselves, and lived only to sup; our pleasures are ennobled by views more useful and more elevated. We often dine for the poor, and we sometimes dance for the afflicted, the widow, and the orphan.

Moreover, a most important ethnographical consideration seems to give a serious interest to the diet of a people, if it be true, as we are convinced it is, and as we shall probably one day endeavour to demonstrate, that the manners of individuals, their idiosyncrasies, inclinations, and intellectual habits, are modified, to a certain extent, as taste, climate, and circumstances may determine the nature of their food; an assertion which might be supported by irrefragable proofs, and would show the justness of the aphorism: “Tell me what thou eatest, and I will tell thee who thou art.”

VICTUA _or_ THE GODDESS OF GASTRONOMY ]