CHAPTER XVIII

THE NINE FISH MOST HIGHLY PRIZED

I subjoin a list of the nine fish which found most favour in Greece and Rome. This, although necessarily rough and tentative, can (I believe), be justified by an examination of our authors.[624] To anyone who on the strength of one author may be dissatisfied with the place allotted to a particular fish, I would point out that since the oracles of taste vary with the ages, it is essential to hold in mind the exact date at which a passage was written.

Then, again, the Greek saw not eye to eye, or ate not tooth to tooth, with the Roman. The verdict of the opsophagists or, as these often differed, of the plain people of one century not infrequently reversed that of the last.

As with us at the present day it is hardly feasible to adjudge definitely to what fish belongs the primacy of palate, so was it with the ancients. In the case of the Greeks the task is impossible. Every one of our nine can boast at least half a dozen champions. Then, again, as regards the epoch of individual supremacy we are without any guiding statement, such as Pliny’s that in his time the _Scarus_ was reckoned the king of fish.[625]

For these reasons, discount as we may the personal predilections of an author like Ennius, of a _gourmet_ like Apicius, of a _bon vivant_ like Vitellius, any list is perforce approximate, not absolute. It must be governed by the dictum of the great Greek epicure, χαίρει γὰρ ὁ μὲν τούτοις, ὁ δ’ ἐκείνοις.

But if our opsophagists disagreed as to which was _the_ best fish, they were fairly unanimous as to which part of a fish was best. Setting aside the peculiar partiality of the Greeks for the head of the Conger, the part near the tail afforded the most savour, and found the most favour with ancient (and modern) _gourmets_.

Three reasons for this preference have been suggested:

(A) That from Xenocrates. After laying down that fish roasted are more nutritious than fish boiled, that sea fish are easy of digestion and by their formation of blood impart a good colour to the skin, that fish from lakes and rivers are generally bad for the stomach, form thick juices, and are difficult of evacuation, this great physician affirms emphatically that the part near the tail of _all_ kinds of fish (Nonnius excepts the Tunny) are the most wholesome, on account of it being most frequently exercised.[626]

(B) That from Pliny. Writing of the _Muræna_, he says that it is quite clear that in its tail abides its _anima_ (‘life’ or ‘being’), because a blow on that part swiftly kills it, while one on the head is more tedious in effect.[627]

(C) That alleged in Scandinavia. To the Norseman the most delicate part of the salmon was its tail. His choice, nowadays by no means exceptional, was explained by a pretty piece of ætiological tradition. Loki, fleeing from the pursuit of the gods whose anger he had provoked, had the wit and the time to transform himself into a salmon. Then and in this guise would he have surely escaped, had not Thor caught him by the tail, “and this is the reason why salmon have had the tails so fine and so thin ever since.”[628]

In my list, which excludes the _Echineis_, despite its being according to Cassiodorus[629] “that honey of flesh, that dainty of the deep,” in precedence comes 1 the _Mullus_, 2 the _Scarus_, 3 the _Acipenser_, 4 the _Rhombus_, 5 the _Lupus_, 6 the _Asellus_, 7 the Eel and the _Muræna_, 8 the κάπρος, 9 the Sole.

1. _Mullus_ (_M. barbatus_), the “Red Mullet.” The passages already quoted as regards the huge prices sometimes given for it establish the extreme esteem with which this fish was regarded. But if need be, witness after witness to credit can easily be called. Perhaps, as regards the Latins, Nonnius will suffice: “Inter omnes pisces prærogativa quadam omniumque consensu Mullus sibi imperium occupavit, nec alius unquam majori in honore aut gratia apud Romanos fuit.”[630]

Among the Greeks, if, as seems acknowledged, the τρίγλη corresponds to the Mullet, its place must be accounted high from the number of its devotees. Matron[631] goes into raptures even over its mere head when steeped in brine, irrespective of whether it came from an autumn (as recommended by Aristotle) or a spring fish (the choice of Xenocrates).

The acme of epicurean hospitality was reached with serving the Mullet, not dead swimming in sauce, but alive swimming in a globe of glass, to be handed round among the guests. All eyes gloated as its gay hues gradually grew dimmer, till at last with death they faded into one dull colour.

Seneca lashes with his bitterest irony the custom, and the company. They are no longer content to satisfy their teeth and their stomach—no, they must also gratify their eyes. “No one now sits with a dying friend. None can bring himself to witness the death, however much desired! of his father. The last hours of brother or kinsman find no soul with him. To the death of the Mullet have they all flocked with one accord.”[632]

2. For the _Scarus_ (_S. cretensis_), the “Parrot Wrasse,” see Chapter X.

3. The _Acipenser_, a Latin name, adopted by some Greek writers, which is often, if not convincingly, identified with the _Sturio_, the “Sturgeon,” and by Archestratus[633] is affirmed but wrongly, to be the γαλεός, enjoyed a long and glorious reign of supremacy from the early times of the Republic down to Vespasian. For it alone, with perhaps one exception, was reserved the high honour of being served at a banquet to the music of flutes and pipes, crowned itself, borne by slaves likewise crowned.[634]

Its praise and its price (Varro styles it _multinummus_) seem alike exorbitant. We find the name of Gallonius the glutton-auctioneer, the first to bring the fish into fashion, occurring again and again.[635] On Ovid’s (_Hal._ 134) “Tuque peregrinis acipenser nobilissimus” may be piled passage upon passage. Plautus in a fragment of his _Bacaria_[636] asks:

“Quis est mortalis tanta fortuna affectus umquam Qua ego nunc sum? quoius hæc ventri portatur pompa: Vel nunc qui mihi in mari acipenser latuit antehac, Quoius ego latus in latebras reddam meis dentibus et manibus.”

Cicero—no fish story-teller he—makes at least four references to it. In _De Fato, frag. 5_, he sets forth the tale of the Acipenser (‘piscis ... in primis nobilis’) presented to Scipio, to whom, as he persisted in inviting all and every one who saluted him, Pontius anxiously whispered, “Do you know what you are about? Lo! this is a fish fit only for a few choice palates!”

As to its decline from its high estate, Pliny’s definite assertion (IX. 27), “Apud antiquos piscium nobilissimus habitus acipenser ... nullo nunc in honore est,” finds corroboration by Martial, XIII. 91:

“Ad Palatinas acipensem mittite mensas; Ambrosias ornent munera rara dapes.”[637]

The _Elops_ or _Helops_ has been deemed to be the _Acipenser_,[638] but this conflicts with Ovid (_Hal._, 96)—“Et pretiosus elops _nostris incognitus undis_”—with Columella (VIII. 16), and with Pliny (XXXII. 54).

Whatever the _Elops_, Varro and Epicharmus testify to its extortionate price, while Pliny lets us know that by many of the _cognoscenti_ its flavour was deemed to be the very best of all.

The capture of this rare and elusive fish—its usual habitat was off Pamphylia—became the occasion of great rejoicing; the crew of the successful boat were crowned with wreaths, and welcomed by the music of the flute-players.[639] It is noteworthy that the _Acipenser_ does not occur in the pages either of Varro or of Columella, while the _Elops_ does.

4. The _Rhombus_, whether it were _R. maximus_, the “Turbot,” or _R. lævis_, the “Brill,” has been long in dispute.

Juvenal describes his celebrated _Rhombus_ with “erectas in terga sudes” (IV. 128); “erectas” may be conceded to the licence of a poet as regards the back fin of a Turbot, but not of a Brill, which is yielding and rather wavy. Then, again, Diphilus declares that its flesh is soft, Xenocrates that it is firm, and improves with keeping. Now the flesh of the Brill is soft: that of the Turbot much firmer. _Rhombus_ (unmentioned by Aristotle) probably stood for both Turbot and Brill, as well as for the ψῆττα, “which is called by the Romans the _Rhombus_.”[640]

The fish, which derives its name from its supposed likeness to the geometrical figure, was in poetry but not in popularity[641] more celebrated than that other famous flat fish, the Sole. As a dainty the Sturgeon was in vogue long before the _Rhombus_, perhaps because, as Horace (_Sat._, II. 2. 49) suggests, it was introduced by a man of fashion:

“ ... Quid? tunc rhombos minus æquora alebant? Tutus erat rhombus, tutoque ciconia nido, Donec vos auctor docuit prætorius.”

It ran often to immense size. Martial’s fish (XIII. 81), although “latior patella,” can hold no candle to the one presented to Domitian.[642]

That Emperor, though deeming himself and insisting on his subjects acclaiming him, of godlike attributes, was not equal to solving the knotty question of how to cook and to serve his fish _whole_, “Derat pisci patinæ mensura”—if its proportions were in the same street with a _Rhombus_ vouched for by Rondolet, _viz._ three metres long, two broad, and one thick, the fact excites no wonder—so he straightway summoned a special meeting of the Senate.[643]

Discover, Montanus advises, a new Prometheus capable of modelling the amplest trencher instantly, but, since to a god like Domitian (he flatteringly adds), offerings of huge fish will frequently be made—

“But, Cæsar, thus forewarned make no campaign, Unless some potters follow in your train.”

5. The _Lupus_[644]—_Labrax lupus_—“common Bass” at Athens enjoyed the choicest preference. Aristophanes absolutely refused to be disturbed while feasting on a Milesian _Labrax_. Archestratus eulogises it as “god-begotten” (θεόπαιδα). During the early Roman Republic it indeed ranked (with the _Asellus_) only second to the _Acipenser_.[645]

The fish throve best and grew fattest in sewage; hence those “from between the two bridges” of the Tiber were famed far and near; see Horace, _Sat._, II. 2, 31; Macrobius, _Sat._, II. 12; and Juvenal, V. 103-8. The latter’s “et solitus mediæ cryptam penetrare Suburæ” was rendered quite clear only in 1743, when the remains of the Cloaca leading from the low-lying ground to the Tiber were excavated. From this greedy scavenging he is christened by Lucilius (_Sat. 4, frag_., 127, Baehrens) “the platter-licker” (catillo)—

“Hunc pontes Tiberinus duo inter captus catillo.”[646]

The Doctors once more are at variance. The Court, unanimous that (in Walton’s phrase) “its savour was excellent,” only by a majority (Galen and Celsus J.J.) upheld its nutritive powers, Hicesius J. dissenting. Rondolet against the volume of authority affirms that the _Lupus_ of the sea is of better quality than that of the river. Pliny[647] dubs the _Lupus_ “lanatus”—not from his woolly appearance, or woolly taste, but from the whiteness of his flesh—_laudatissimus_. But by the time of Domitian it has fallen from its proudest place.

Its Aristophanic title of “the wisest of fish” was earned by its cunning in escape from net or hook; its method in the case of the former is vouched for by Cassiodorus,[648] and of the latter by Ovid:[649]

“quassatque caput, dum vulnere sævus Laxato cadat hamus et ora patentia linquat.”

Pliny, commenting on the marvellous friendships and hatreds which exist among fish, instances the astounding combination of both in the _lupus_ and the _mugil_ (grey mullet), “who burn with mutual hate for some, yet live in concord for other, months of the year”—despite the cheery custom, hereditary in the _lupus_, of nibbling off the tail of the _mugil_; all, however, live, “quibus caudae sic amputentur.”[650]

6. The _Asellus_ has been identified as the _Gadus merlangus_, the “Cod;” and as the _Merluccius vulgaris_, the “Hake,” by Scaliger and Rondolet, and by Hardouin with some doubt.

It cannot be the Cod (although Dorion speaks[651] of “the ὄνος which some call the γάδος”), because hardly any of the _Gadidæ_, except the Hake, frequent the Mediterranean on account of the temperature of the water. Nor can the _Asellus_ be the Hake, because, while the latter is taken _all the year round_, Pliny[652] and Ælian[653] distinctly state that the _Asellus_ hides in the heat of summer.

This assertion, if the ὄνος be the same as the _Asellus_, tallies with, probably indeed derives from, Aristotle’s remark that it is the only fish that hides itself in a hole in the ground in the hot weather, when the Dog-star rages.[654] The fish, Varro informs us, is called _Asellus_ from the ashen colour of its scales, resembling that of the coat of an ass.[655]

If there be doubt as to its classification scientifically, there is none gastronomically. Laberius and Cornelius Nepos ranked it only second to the _Acipenser_. Ovid (_Hal._ 131) enters a demurrer against the name given in:

“Et tam deformi non dignus nomine asellus.”

Galen warmly commends the fish for its quality of flesh, and great nutritive power; in these respects, indeed, he places the Mullet, the _Lupus_, and Sole far below. Xenocrates, whose dictum usually differs from his successor, depreciates it, as does “nobilis ille helluo” Archestratus, whose palate pronounced the flesh “spongy.”

A sovereign remedy for fever and ague are “the small stones found in the head of the Asellus, when the moon is full, and attached in linen to the patient’s body!”[656]

7. The _Muræna_—_M. serpens_ or _helena_—(frequently but quite erroneously called the “Lamprey”), with whose taming, teaching, and fighting I have dealt, was on the _menu_ a most welcome and eagerly anticipated item.[657]

Of the _Murænidæ_, at Athens the Eel, at Rome the _Muræna_ was, as the last chapter shows, the greater favourite. Archestratus, it is true, commands men of taste to buy at all hazards the _Muræna_ of “the Straights”[658]; but the Latin authors sing its praise frequently and fervently.

The comparative want of appreciation of the Eel at Rome may have been merely masculine, and evolved from the Latin boy (_prætextatus_) regarding “this cousin of the snake” not as a dainty for his palate, but as a scourge for his body! Early association counts for much in later life: so his back’s memory of a flogging with a whip made of eel-skins, twisted tightly together, may have caused the male adult to approach delicately, or not at all, the fish with his freeborn palate.[659]

At the _tripatinium_, which marked the height of delight at a supper,[660] the _Muræna_ gave the choicest morsel. Horace, Martial, and others not only sing its fame, but give its proper dressing. To Martial’s taste that from Sicily ranked first, but Varro—was it because these, as Suidas asserts, were the largest?—votes for the Spanish fish.

While Apicius (X. 8) hands down various recipes for the proper frying and boiling of the other parts, he distinctly discards, on account of its reputed poisonous properties, the head of the _Muræna_. But among the Greeks direction follows direction for cooking the Conger’s “exquisite head.” Philemon rhapsodises over—

“noble conger From Sicyon’s bay, the conger which the God Of the deep sea doth bear aloft to Heaven Fit banquet for his brethren.”[661]

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_.

Although Xenocrates and Galen differ as to the firmness or reverse of its flesh—I wonder whether the latter got hold of a Lemon Sole!—the ancient agrees with the modern faculty in accounting it “very nourishing, and of most pleasant flavour.”[666] It then as now was almost always the first fish ordered, “as soon as men be sick or ill at ease“ in Plutarch’s time and words.

From likeness to a tongue sprang its first Greek and Latin names; from likeness to a sandal its second, σανδάλιον and solea. Thus we find Matron[667] establishing, or merely perpetuating, the pretty myth that these fish, possibly from some adhesive power—and is it heresy to suggest their breadth?—served the Goddesses of Ocean as sandals or shoes:

Σάνδαλα δ’ αὖ παρέθηκεν ἀειγενῆ ἀθανατάων Βούγλωσσον, ὂς ἔναιεν ἐν ἅλμη μορμυρούση.

As Yonge renders them—

“And next (the goddesses such sandals wear) Of mighty soles, a firm and well-matched pair,”

the verses have the double demerit of being uncomplimentary to Aphrodite _et Cie_, and of reading into Matron an allusion unwarranted by his lines.[668]

A not dissimilar use of the Sole is instanced in Polynesian theology. Ina the daughter of Vaitooringa attempted flight to the sacred island. Fish after fish essayed to bear her thither, but unequal to the burden dropped her in the shallow water. At last she besought the Sole, who managed to carry her as far as the breakers. Here, again unshipped, she lost her divine temper, and stamped with such fierceness on the head of the unfortunate helper of distressful maids that its under eye was squeezed right through to the upper side. “Hence the Sole is now obliged to swim flat on one side of its face, having no eye.”[669]

Plautus puns or makes play on _Solea_, which means, first, a shoe or sandal (as does σανδάλιον), and, second, the fish, and _sculponeæ_, a kind of wooden shoe (which Cato[670] remembers being worn only by country folk) often employed for striking a person.[671]

Then comes the other play on _Lingulaca_, which in its first sense equals a chatterbox, and in its second the fish.

_Lysidamus_: Soleas. _Chalinus_: Qui, quæso, potius quam sculponeas, Quibus battuatur tibi os, senex nequissime?

_Olympio_: Vin’ lingulacas? _Lysidamus_: Quid opust, quando uxor domi est? Ea lingulaca est nobis, nam numquam tacet.[672]

To render the double punning of these lines has been a task too hard even for the excellent Loeb Library. But Badham, perhaps _poeta nascitur_, but here _non fit_, comes to the fore:

“Fresh tongues for sale, who’ll buy, who’ll buy? Come, Sir, will you? No, friend, not I; Of tongue enow at home I’ve got In my old wife, Dame Polyglot.”

The _Cestreus_, or _Mugil_. My inclination to include this fish among “The Nine Fish most highly prized” was checked in part by Faber’s placing it only in Class II., and in part by the possible reproach, seeing that the glories of its cousin the Mullus had been fully recounted, of “too much one family.” But as the fish possesses traits very individual, if not always engaging, and as Athenæus devotes to its gastronomic and other properties no less than four chapters,[673] I cannot pass by it without some comment.

Its edible qualities vary with the place of its capture. While the _Mugil_ of Abdera, Sinope, and other clear-watered places achieved high praise, its more frequent but muddy-tasting brother of the lagoons formed the staple of one kind of τάριχος. Their predilection for lagoons and brackish water—evidenced by writers as far apart as Aristotle and Apostolides (1900 A.D.)—came about possibly from the fish “breeding best where rivers run into the sea,” or can be accounted for by the belief that “Some of the grey mullet species are not produced by copulation, but grow spontaneously from mud and sand.”[674]

Apart from characteristics already mentioned, _e.g._ its greed and guile, its hereditary feud with the _Lupus_, its being “the swiftest of fishes” (which attribute, nevertheless, saved it not from being the prey of the slowest, if not the shrewdest of fishes, the _Pastinaca_ or sting-ray,[675]) we find various points of interest noted by ancient writers:

(A) “Whilst rain is wholesome for most fishes, it is, on the contrary, unwholesome for the _Cestreus_, for rain and snow superinduce blindness.”[676]

(B) The passionate desire of the _Cestreus_, when about to spawn, “renders it so unguarded” that, if a male or female be caught, fastened to a line, allowed to swim to sea, and then gently drawn back to land, shoals of the opposite sex will follow the captive close up to the shore and fill the awaiting nets.[677] This method of fishing, which prevails at Elis at the present day, is but one, as Apostolides indicates, of the many survivals in modern Greece of the ancient craft.[678]

(C) The _Mugil_, together with three others, possesses by far the best sense of hearing, “and so it is that they frequent shallow water.”[679]

(D) The _Mugil_, anticipating the ostrich, hid its head when frightened and fancied that the whole of its body was concealed. Unlike the ostrich, however, it has long got cured of its “ridiculous character”[680], for, as Cuvier remarks, this trait in modern times has not been observed.

(E) The _Mugil_, although vouched for as the greediest and most insatiable of feeders, attained paradoxically the sobriquet of Νῆστις, or _the Faster_.

The epithet probably gained currency from the stomach of the fish (like that of most salmon caught in fresh water) rarely being found to contain food. This perhaps may be accounted for by the great length of its gut, throughout which the filmy garbage and vegetable matter forming its chief diet are inconspicuously disposed. “The Cestreus is fasting” even became a proverb and was applied to men who lived with strict regard to justice, because—as Athenæus explains—the fish is never carnivorous.[681]

(F) The use in cases of adultery of the _Cestreus_ in Greece and the _Mugil_ at Rome, if not singular among fish, is striking; for it survived into the civilised age of Catullus (“percurrent raphanique mugilesque,”)[682] and of Juvenal (“Quosdam mœchos et mugilis intrat,”)[683]. Indeed, traces of the same barbaric custom still exist among certain tribes on the West Coast of Africa.

Gifford writes: “the being clystered (as Holyday expresses it) by a Mugil was allowed by no written law, but it seems to have been an old and approved method of gratifying private vengeance. Isidorus thinks that the fish was selected for this purpose on account of its anti-venereal properties, but he confounds the _Mugilis_ with the Mullet.”[684]

From _The Fisheries of the Adriatic_, a most elaborate Report by Faber on the kinds and market values of the fishes of that sea, I give the class allotted to the fish of my list. It must once more be impressed on the reader that these eight fish (for of course Faber does not deal with the kάpros), were the most renowned in Greece and Rome. Of these, five only—the Mullet, _Acipenser_, _Rhombus_, _Lupus_, and Sole—are in Class I.; the _Asellus_ and _Muræna_ in II.; the _Scarus_, and it could not be lower, in III.[685]

The classification disappoints and depresses, especially in the case of the vaunted and lovable _Scarus_. It tempts, however, to an insoluble sum in proportion. If about these and other less esteemed fish the books extant and known to have been lost are almost as countless as the smile of Ocean, how many volumes would an Englishman or an American—given the same fish-mania and the same literary facility as the Greeks—require to do justice to his wealth of first-class edible fish? Verily the Library of Alexandria, with its room for 400,000 volumes, would scarce suffice.

FOOTNOTES:

[624] Any apparent resemblance in this list, or in this book, to Badham’s book is easily accounted for by the fact that both derive much from the same source, he without any, I with due acknowledgment to the little known volume by Nonnius (Antwerp, 1616), which itself draws largely from Athenæus, Xenocrates, etc. The sequence of sentences, turns of expression, choice of epithets in Badham sometimes so strongly suggest Nonnius, that it is a case of yet another miracle of unconscious absorption—from a rare book written in Latin 238 years previously!—or of—well, Ælianism. I hesitated for a long time from even hinting such unacknowledged extraction by an author to whom two generations have owed much pleasure and more knowledge. Were it not for the inadequacy of his references and for his bursting, Wegg-like, into poetry, which doubles the length and sometimes obscures the sense of the original Greek or Latin, Badham would be delightful reading.

[625] Bk. IX. 29.

[626] Cf. Blakey, _op. cit._, p. 73.

[627] _N. H._, XXXII. 5.

[628] In Krause, _op. cit._, 237, Loki, originally god of Fire, changes into a salmon from his predilection for the red colour of the fish! The Icelandic Eddas attribute the invention of the Net to Loki.

[629] _Var. epist._, III. 48.

[630] _Op. cit._, p. 93.

[631] Matron, Ἀττικὸν δεῖπνον, 27 ff.; _ap._ Athen. IV. 13.

[632] Cf. Seneca, _Nat. Quæst._, III. 18. Also Pliny, _N. H._, IX. 30.

[633] Archestrat., _ap._ Athen., VII. 44.

[634] Cf. Macrobius, _Sat._, II. 12, and Athenæus, VII. 44.

[635] Horace, _Sat_., II. 2, 46.

[636] Macrobius, _Sat._, III. 16, 1.

[637] Pliny claims for the Acipenser that he “unus omnium squamis ad os versis contra aquam nando meat.” The reading of the last four words is however much disputed. C. Mayhoff prints _contra quam in nando meant_. Plutarch, _De Sol. Anim._, 28, of the _Elops_, “it always swims with the wind and tide, not minding the erection or opening of the scales, which do not lie towards the tail, as in other fish.”

[638] Athen., VII. 44; and Pliny, IX. 27.

[639] Ælian, VIII. 28.

[640] Cf. Athenæus, VII. 139.

[641] Cf., however, Alciphron, I. 7, where among presents from fishermen, it takes premier place.

[642] Juv., IV. 37 ff.

[643] With this meeting compare that summoned post-haste by Nero in the Revolution (which led to his death), when to anxious and breathless senators he imparted the important news that he had just effected an improvement of the hydraulic organ, by which the notes were made to sound louder and sweeter. His ἐξεύρηκα conflicts somewhat with the account in Suetonius (_Nero_, 41). The Emperor evidently had a bent and a liking for mechanical invention, for according to C. M. Cobern, _New Archæological Discoveries_, etc., 1917, in one of his palaces were elevators which ran from the ground to the top floor, and a circular dining-room which revolved with the sun.

[644] The part played by fish in recovering episcopal keys and rings has been dwelt on elsewhere. Sad it is that in the case of St. Lupus the _rôle_ is performed not by his namesake fish, but by a barbel, in whose belly was found, just previous to the return of the bishop to his See of Sens the self-same ring which on being exiled by Clothaire II. he had cast into the moat. Let us, disregarding all geographical habitats, trust that Barbel was here an ichthyic inexactitude for _Lupus_. Cf. S. Baring Gould, _The Lives of the Saints_, Vol. X. 7, Edinburgh, 1914.

[645] Pliny, IX. 28.

[646] Cf. Macrobius, Sat., II. 12: “Lucilius ... eum ... quasi ligurritorem catillonem appellat, scilicet qui proxime ripas stercus insectaretur.” _À propos_ of ‘Catillo,’ there is a quaint remark in the _Gloss. Salom._, “Nomen piscis a catino dictus ob cuius suavitatem homines catinum corrodunt”—the fish was so delicious it made one fairly bite the dish!

[647] IX. 28.

[648] _Epist._, XI. 40.

[649] _Hal._, 41 f.

[650] _N. H._, IX., 88; Arist., _H. A._, IX. 3.

[651] Dorion, _ap._ Athen., VII. 99. Dorion was the author of a treatise much used by Athenæus.

[652] IX. 25; _N. H._, IX. 36.

[653] IX. 25; _N. H._, IX. 36.

[654] Athen., VII. 99. Cf. Oppian, I. 151.

[655] _De Ling. Lat._, 5.

[656] Pliny, XXXII. 38.

[657] The Lamprey, Pride, and _Muræna_ are different fish. They are all engraved in Nash’s book, who lays down that the _Muræna_ is not the lamprey—as indeed a representation (from Herculaneum) of the former done with great exactness serves to establish. See T. D. Fosbroke, _Encyl. of Antiq._ (London, 1843), p. 1033, and p. 402, figure 3.

[658] _Ap._ Athen., VII. 91.

[659] The _toga prætexta_ was worn by the higher magistrates, certain priests, and free-born children. Isidorus, in _Gloss._, “Anguilla est qua coercentur in scholis pueri,” and Pliny, _N. H._, IX., 39, “eoque verberari solitos tradit Verrius prætextatos.” Under the old law _prætextati_ were unamerceable; _non in ære, sed in cute solvebant_! Our Saxon forbears adopted the whip of eels; see Fosbroke, _op. cit._, p. 303. Rabelais (II. 30) continues the tradition—“Whereupon his master gave him such a sound thrashing with an _eel-skin_, that his own would have been worth nought for bagpipes.”

[660] Pliny, _N. H._ 35; 46; quoting from Fenestella.

[661] Philemon, _ap._ Athen., 7. 32.

[662] _Hedyphagetica._ The reading is most uncertain.

[663] In _N. H._, II. 13, and IV. 9. This cannot be our boar-fish which is marine, whereas Aristotle talks of it being in the river Acheloüs. It may possibly be another name for the Glanis.

[664] In Athen., 7, 72.

[665] See Stephanus, _Thesaurus Græcæ Linguæ_, ii. 347 C-D.

[666] Badham (plagiarising Blaikie), on p. 364—in “Galen, Xenocrates, Diphilus speak disparagingly of the Sole,” is inaccurate. Xenocrates terms its flesh indigestible. Galen states that it is quite the reverse, and commends it highly as a diet. Diphilus does not hesitate to declare that the Sole affords abundant nourishment and is most pleasing to the taste. Cf. Nonnius, p. 89. In the case of a Sole with its customarily modest dimensions it is not easy to hearken unto the command, which was laid down in the twelfth century for the benefit of Robert, the so-called King of England, “Anglorum Regi scripsit schola tota Salerni,” by “the Schoole of Salernes most learned and juditious Directorie, of Methodicall Instructions for the guide and governing the health of Man”:

“Si pisces molles sunt, magno corpore tolles. Si pisces duri, parvi sunt plus valituri.”

Cf. _Regimen Sanitatis Salerni_, London, 1617, but better still Sir A. Croke’s ed., Oxford, 1830.

[667] In Athen., 4, 13, line 76 ff.

[668] It is noteworthy that two of the Nymphs on the “Nereid Monument” are supported by fish (A. H. Smith, _A Catalogue of Sculpture in the British Museum_ (London, 1900), ii. 35, Nos. 910, 911).

[669] Cf. Robinson, _op. cit._, 82.

[670] _De Re Rust._, 59.

[671] Terence, _Eun._, V. 7, 4.

[672] Plautus, _Casin._ II. 8, 59 ff.

[673] Deipn., VII. 77-80; cf. Pausanias, IV. 34.

[674] Arist., _N. H._, V. 10 and 11.

[675] Pliny, IX. 67.

[676] Arist., _N. H._, VIII., 19.

[677] Oppian, _Hal._, IV. 120-145; Arist., _op. cit._, V. 5.

[678] _Op. cit._, p. 45.

[679] Pliny, X. 89, and Ælian, IX. 7.

[680] Pliny, IX. 26.

[681] Aristophanes, and half a dozen other comedians cited by Athen., VII. 78.

[682] XV. 19.

[683] _Sat._, X. 317.

[684] Further details must be sought in Robinson Ellis, _A Commentary on Catullus_ (Oxford, 1876), p. 46, and Schneider, _op. cit._, 69.

[685] Although these five must be reckoned in the first class everywhere, none of the five or other Mediterranean fishes can compare in taste with their northern representatives.