Given the opportunity at table,
one should philosophize in an
appropriate way, so that the
mixing bowl of the liquid made
for happiness is tempered by
the influence not just of the
Nymphs but of the Muses.
Macrobius, Saturnalia, Book 7
Dining, Drinking, and Discourse
The fifteen books of The Learned Banqueters of Athenaeus of Naucratis occupy eight volumes of the Loeb Classical Library edition. This is one volume more than the Loeb edition of Augustine’s great work, The City of God against the Pagans. It is Athenaeus’s only extant work. Athenaeus cites 1,250 authors; he gives the titles of more than 1,000 plays, and quotes more than 10,000 lines of verse. These citations make the work one of the most important sources in later antiquity. The banquet is a series of dinner parties taking place over several days. Unlike Plutarch’s essay on The Dinner of the Seven Wise Men, in which we learn little of the dinner itself, in Athenaeus’s work there are wide-ranging comments on foodstuffs and wines, as well as on topics in philosophy, literature, law, medicine, and other subjects. The books of Athenaeus are quoted in some modern cookbooks that have a historical interest and his name is kept alive in this regard.1 There is a brief, and rather strange, entry in the Larousse Gastronomique identifying Athenaeus, with a single comment noting that in his work “there are several passages relating to flowers and fruit and their various uses, both practical and pleasurable.”2
Athenaeus’s work is not only long, it is rambling and unstructured, a jumble of material. The books are a great series of digressions in which the digressions are the text itself. The translator of the Loeb volumes, S. Douglas Olson, says that the work functions on two narrative levels: “The first (which frames the second) is a conversation between Timocrates, who has heard rumors of a brilliant dinner party and would like to learn more, and a character named Athenaeus, who was present at the events in question.” Timocrates acts as Athenaeus’s interlocutor. There is a second level that “is an account of the banquet itself, and although the character of Athenaeus mostly quotes the other guests directly, he also describes in his own words what was served, how the company reacted to their companions’ speeches, and the like.”3
The host of the banquet is Larensius of Rome, who not only is responsible for the venue of the banquet but also is praised for the excellence of his library. One is reminded here of the availability of a library that Vico notes in his account of Roman banquets, mentioned in Chapter 1, above. Larensius, after being introduced, recedes into the background, unlike Periander, the host of the dinner of the seven wise men, who actively presents his views along with the seven. A dominant figure in Athenaeus’s text is the grammarian Ulpian of Tyre, who is not to be confused with the famous Ulpianus the jurisconsult, quoted widely by the compilers of Justinian’s Digest. Ulpian has as his intellectual rival in the conversation the Cynic philosopher Theodorus, who is called Cynulcus throughout. As Olson remarks in the introduction to the translation: “both men are characterized primarily via the brief remarks that begin and end their speeches; otherwise they serve as little more than vehicles for long strings of quotations, anecdotes, and catalogues.”4 As mentioned above in Chapter 1, the participants also include four philosophers, four physicians, three musicians, eight grammarians, and a lexicographer.
Given the size of the work and that its narrative is more a compilation than a systematic speech, one wonders if anyone really reads Athenaeus’s text from beginning to end. Its fifteen books are daunting and do not easily hold the reader’s attention. Yet it is a classic for thinking through the idea of dining. My intention in what follows is to state something of the essence of each book, so that it may be of service for anyone to know to some extent what is in the work. In so doing my guiding question is: What can be learned from the learned banqueters regarding dining, drinking, and discourse?
Book 1: Early Meals
Athenaeus says that this banquet brings together “the greatest experts in every field of knowledge” (1.1a). It is a banquet of many experts in particular facts and areas of knowledge, in contrast to the Dinner of the Seven Wise Men, who are wise in philosophical questions concerning the order of nature, ruling of the State, and the human psyche. As mentioned in Chapter 2, they say little about the food eaten except to discuss the general question of human nourishment. In contrast, Athenaeus announces he “omits no one’s finest sayings; for he included fish in his book, and the ways they are prepared and the derivations of their names, as well as every sort of vegetable, animals of every kind, and authors of historical works, poets, and philosophers. He also described musical instruments, a million types of jokes, different styles of drinking cups, the wealth of kings, huge ships—and so many other items that I could not easily mention them all” (1.1a–b). The Seven Sages, besides citing each other, refer mostly to Homer. Homer also plays a role in Athenaeus’s account.
The dinner party that Athenaeus presents follows the principle that such an event is of two parts—the food served and the conversation that accompanies it and succeeds it. Included in the conversation is the specific discussion of types of food and types of wine as well as topics of all sorts. The feast of food is also a “delightful feast of words” (1.1b). Although Athenaeus says: “The account is arranged to imitate the extravagance of the dinner party, and the book’s structure reflects how the dinner was organized” (1.1b). The reader must just go with what is said without wondering why it is said at this or that particular point, taking what is said to be simply of intrinsic interest.
Athenaeus quotes from a poem in epic verse by Archastratus of Syracuse, advocating that: “Everyone should dine at a single table set for an elegant meal” (1.4e). At such a meal, Archastratus says, the number of guests should be three or four and at any rate not more than five. There is discussion of whether to eat sitting at a table or reclining on couches: “The heroes sit at their banquets rather than reclining” (1.17f). It is pointed out that to lie down before dinner is served has no point because one cannot fall asleep (1.23d).
It is also said that “Banqueters in Homer did not take the leftovers home, but ate as much as they wanted and left the rest behind with their hosts” (1.13a). This is in contrast to Vico’s claim, regarding the dinners of the Romans, to which the guests brought napkins in which to take home tidbits (as discussed in Chapter 1, above). It is also stated that in Homer each diner had a bread-basket and a wine goblet (1.13d). There is mention of the taking of baths before dinner, a custom also of the Romans. The ancient heroes ate all types of meat as well as fish and also vegetables (1.24e). There is discussion of the merits of white wine versus red, and of types of wine generally (1.32c).
Book 2: Water, Wine, and Appetizers
Wine is essential to the symposium that follows a dinner but it is also present at the beginning of a meal. This presence of wine at the beginning of a meal is reflected in the service of a traditional Italian trattoria. When one is seated, bread is immediately brought and the diners are asked whether they wish white or red wine. Before drinking it is customary for the diners to say, “Salute,” in effect toasting each other. This toast is a vestige of drinking to the gods. Athenaeus reports: “The epic poet Panyasis assigns the first round of drinks to the Graces, the Seasons, and Dionysus; the second to Aphrodite and Dionysus again; but the third to Outrage and Folly” (2.36d). Dining itself is connected to sacrifice: “A sacrifice leads to a feast, and a feast leads to drinking” (2.36c–d). The pouring of a libation is symbolic of a sacrifice. The meal is an extension of the sacrifice. Athenaeus says: “Aristotle says that the verb methuō (“be drunk”) refers to the fact that one consumes wine meta to thuein (“after making sacrifice”) (2.40d).
Since wine is an essential part of dining, there is concern among the ancient authors regarding drunkenness. This concern supports the universal practice among the Greeks to mix water with wine. “Philochorus says that Amphictyon the king of Athens learned how to mix wine from Dionysus and was the first person to do this” (2.38c). There is also much discussion of the need also to drink water in and of itself for health as well as to bathe before meals. “One should avoid thick perfumes and drink water that appears thin and transparent, and that is in fact light in weight and contains no sediment” (2.46b). There is much discussion of types of water and the merits of the sources of the best water. This discussion is reminiscent of the various mineral waters available today, and of the second question asked of the diners in a traditional trattoria, regarding which type of water they might prefer, gassata or non-gassata (carbonated or non-carbonated).
Following the discussion of wine and water, Athenaeus says: “It was the custom at dinner parties for the host to be offered a writing tablet with a list of the dishes when he lay down, so that he would know what food the cook was going to serve” (2.49d). This tablet is the menu or listino. The items discussed, which range from radishes, saltfish, asparagus, sausages, barley-cakes, hyacinth bulbs, oysters, snails, thrushes, partridges, hares, eggs, cucumbers, melons, lettuce, and so forth are a combination of vegetables, seafood, fowl, and meats. Their merits and digestion are discussed at length. These appetizers are presumably now served to Larensius’s guests. The principle this offering embodies is that a wide variety of small and varied dishes are appropriate for the appetizer course.
Book 3: The Fish Course and the Boiled Course
Book 3 begins with the assertion that: “The grammarian Callimachus used to say that a big book is equivalent to a big evil” (3.72a). Athenaeus makes no comment on this quotation but proceeds immediately to continue his discussion of foodstuffs. He is producing as big a book as one can imagine and apparently cannot help himself but to do so.
The text moves to a discussion of the greatness of figs. Magnus says: “the fig-tree, my friends, was mankind’s guide to the refined way of life” (3.74d). He comments on its status among the Athenians and claims that it was the first domesticated food to be discovered. Pages of quotations follow, describing and praising figs. We learn that: “Heracleides of Tarentum in his Symposium raises the question of whether one ought to consume warm water or cold water after eating figs” (3.79e). One view is that warm water breaks down their structure and makes them more digestable but that cold water makes them more firm in the stomach. Another view is that the weight of the cold water pushes the figs downward and thus aids with digestion. The discussion of figs is followed by one on citron, and whether the ancients mentioned it anywhere (3.83a). It is pointed out that the Romans refer to citron as kitros or citrus (3.85c).
But “Immediately after the items described above, large quantities of oysters and other shellfish were brought in on separate platters” (3.85c). These include scallops, barnacles, black conch and white conch, octopus, squid, crayfish, mussels, shrimp, clams, and whelks. This service is in effect a fish course, presented after the appetizer. There is much discussion of each of these, including their digestibility. Moving from appetizer to a first course of fish is to be found today, especially in French meals, although in this case the fish course is all shellfish. In a French meal it might more commonly be a poached fish such as a turbot or a lightly sautéed fillet of sole.
“After this, platters were carried around loaded with many types of boiled meat: feet, heads, ears, jawbones, and also tripe, intestines, and tongues, as is customary in what are called the boil-shops in Alexandria” (3.94.c). This boiled course corresponds to the course following the antipasto (or first course) in the order of Florentine dining in the sixteenth century, as described by Bugialli: “The second course was the boiled course. This never varied, whether the third course was fried dishes or roasted dishes.”5 There was no fish course preceding it. In the Florentine meal of today the pasta course occupies the place of the boiled course. It is a kind of boiled course, as the pasta is prepared by boiling.
There are two general comments of note. One is the observation that diners without education put a premium on having entertainment while drinking wine after dinner, because, lacking learning, they also lack conversation (3.97a–b). Another decries the “ignorance of today’s cooks,” who mix various things together thinking they are inventive but in fact do not know how to prepare or combine food harmoniously (3.102e–103a). This principle, when understood, should prevent the contemporary practice of “stacked food,” and of thinking that the basis of cooking is individual invention rather than the perfection of tradition.
Book 4: A Wedding Dinner, Spartan Meals
Book 4 begins with a description of a wedding dinner in Macedon, at which silver and gold bowls and platters were employed, and given to the guests. After some first plates were served and some entertainment: “Then a fortune was served instead of dinner: a silver platter covered with heavy goldplate, and large enough to hold a huge roast piglet lying on its back and displaying its belly, which was full of many delicious items; for inside it were roast thrushes, ducks, and an immense quantity of warblers, as well pea soup poured over hard-boiled eggs, as well as oysters and scallops” (4.129b). The guests were given an assortment of these items, along with the platters. Then they were given a piping hot kid, along with the platter it was on, accompanied by gold spoons. The custom of giving guests some form of gift at such special occasions persists in some cultures today, although not so extravagant.
In contrast to such dining there is a description of Spartan meals eaten at military men’s messes. “The dinner is initially served to each man separately, and nothing is shared with anyone else. Then there is a barley-cake as large as each of them wants; and, moreover, a cup is set beside each man to drink whenever he wishes” (4.141b). Everyone is given some stewed pork and broth from the meat “and perhaps an olive, some cheese, or a fig, or if they are given something extra, a fish, a hare, a ring-dove, or the like” (4.141c). It is said they eat these meals quickly. But: “The Spartans later abandoned a way of life as austere as this and drifted into luxury” (4.141f).
The book offers a catalogue of how meals are composed and eaten by various ancient peoples. In regard to dining among the Parthians, a strange practice is described: “The man referred to as the king’s ‘friend’ does not share his food, but sits on the ground below the king, who lies on a high couch, and eats whatever is thrown to him like a dog. Often for one reason or another he is dragged away from his dinner on the ground and beaten with rods or whips to which knucklebones have been attached” (4.152f). The man then returns to the dinner to worship the king as his benefactor. One thinks of the court custom of having a taster who tries the king’s food to determine that it is not poisoned. The taster has a clear-cut, practical role. The king’s “friend,” in this case, has no such role except to demonstrate to others the extent of the king’s power.
The book ends with some remarks on the enjoyable sounds made by a hydraulic organ and the origin of string and wind musical instruments.
Book 5: The Learned Speech of Masurius on Symposia
Nearly all of Book 5 is a speech of Masurius on symposia, beginning with “Homeric symposia.” Types of food or dishes eaten are not discussed, in favor of advocating the importance of symposia and its involvement with philosophy. Masurius is “a legal scholar who paid serious attention to learning of every sort, an extraordinary poet, and a man second to none in other sorts of culture, who had shown great eagerness for getting a comprehensive education” (1.1c).
Masurius regards the high purpose of dinners to be the occasions for symposia. Symposia are characterized as exchanges of learning. He says: “The lawgivers were anticipating today’s dinner parties when they mandated meals organized by tribes and communities, as well as cult-dinners, phratry-dinners, and also those referred to as orgeōnika [dinners organized by a religious association]” (5.185c). By connecting symposia with passages in Homer, Masurius is associating symposia with Greek culture itself. He says: “Homer teaches us what we ought to do before we feast, which is to offer the gods first fruits of the food” (5.179b). The act of eating as well as that of drinking that occupies the symposium that follows the dinner affords connection to the gods. They are not simply biological acts. Masurius says: “Plato retains these elements in his symposium; after they had dinner, he says, they made libations and sang a paean to the god, giving him his customary honors [see Smp. 176a]” (5.179d).
Having related views of symposia and dinners derived from Homer which are prudent and intelligent, Masurius asks: “What name, then, shall we use, my friends, for the symposium given by Antiochus, who was referred to as Epiphanes, but whose actions earned him the title Epimanes (‘the Madman’)?” (5.193d). He then describes at great length a festival and parade that involved thousands of marchers and scores of various types of animals, leading to an opulently decorated venue and elaborately served dinner, as well as an account of a magnificent ship.
This so-called symposium is a fantastic event, but without any intellectual meaning. It is followed by a critical analysis of symposia, involving various ancient philosophers. Masurius displays his learning in a series of errors he exposes in the details of philosopher’s texts, including Plato’s Symposium. Masurius concludes that: “The philosophers thus lie about everything and fail to realize that much of what they write is full of anachronisms” (5.216c).
Book 6: Parasites, Flatterers, and Slaves
Book 6 opens with the speaker reaffirming that he is relating a true account of the learned banqueters’ conversation and not inventing odd fictions. Among others, he quotes the comic poet Timocles: “Listen, mister, and see if what I say makes sense to you” (6.223b). Although Timocles is speaking about tragedy, the claim is presented as also applying to the narration herein.
Slaves enter the room, bearing silver platters with an array of saltwater and freshwater fish. This provokes a long discourse on types of fish, as well as remarks on the use of silver vessels at dinner parties in terms of where their use is to be found at such parties. It is reported that: “The first silver and gold dedications in Delphi were made by Gyges, king of Lydia” (6.231e).
The meaning and role of “parasite” is raised. Plutarch is cited as holding that: “Long ago ‘parasite’ was a sacred, holy term” (6.234d). Polemon is quoted as saying: “’Parasite’ is today a disreputable term, but among the ancients I find that the parasite was sacred and resembled an invited guest at a meal” (6.234e). Parasites are known to practice flattery and it is said that there can be two kinds of parasites, one that is a common type seen in comedies and another who is attached to satraps (governors of provinces) and generals (6.237b–c). Both are said to excel in flattery.
A parasite (parasites) is one who frequents the table of the rich and may, in fact, live generally at another’s expense. The claim that “parasite” was originally a noble term may stem from its use to designate a class of assistants in ancient Greek religious rites who dined with the priests following a sacrifice. The discussion of parasites turns into a general discussion of flattery in which it is affirmed that: “The Athenian people were notorious for their use of flattery” (6.252f). Many examples of flattery are produced, and we are told: “From all these examples, my friends, one can see how much trouble flattery causes in our lives” (6.260a).
From the difficulties of flatterers the conversation drifts into the difficulties of owning slaves. It is pointed out that slaves were employed by the Greeks to do all kinds of tasks, including preparing and serving dinners. As these remarks come to a close, it is once again said that these reminiscences have gone on long enough and they are thus concluded.
Book 7: Types of Fish
Book 7 begins with the announcement that the dinner is now coming to an end. It closes with the speaker saying that he will retire for the night, the entire day having been used up by the discussions of Books 6 and 7.
The conversation turns to the subject of fish broached at the beginning of Book 6. The speaker says: “I will recall for you what the learned banqueters said about each fish; because they all contributed to the discussion of the subject from their books” (7.277b–c). Page after page of quotations follow, concerning all conceivable types of fish. There is attention to what these fish are like to eat, but much of the discussion is simply biological description.
For example, it is reported of eels that they easily suffocate in muddy water and that: “The eel farmers report that they feed at night and lie motionless in the muck during the day, and generally live for eight years” (7.298e). It is said that the rockfish, according to Aristotle: “is solitary, carnivorous, and jagged-toothed; black in color; and has disproportionately large eyes and a white, triangular heart” (7.301c). It is said, also according to Aristotle, that: “Tuna and swordfish behave insanely in late summer; because at that time they both carry near their fins something that resembles a small worm, known as the oistros, which is like a scorpion, but the size of a spider” (7.302b).
Such descriptions are not directed to the types of fish as food—how to prepare them or how they taste—but as enumerations of their natural characteristics. At some points, however, there are comments interspersed concerning whether a certain fish is good to eat. For example, Archestratus is quoted: “But when you come to Byzantium, buy a swordfish steak, the very backbone section of the tail” (7.314e–f). And: “Mithaecus says in the Art of Cooking: After you gut a tainia and remove its head, wash it off and cut it into steaks, and pour cheese and olive oil over it” (7.326a). Since fish is not ordinarily prepared with cheese, this is an interesting culinary concept, but not further developed.
Although octopus is widely eaten even today, it is discussed at length in biological terms, relying on Aristotle, among other writers, explaining that: “The octopus mates in the winter and bears its young in the spring. It retreats into a burrow for about two months” (7.317d).
Book 7 is an aquatic encyclopedia, exposited by the banqueters largely for its own sake and not convincing as a dinner conversation. It seems a digression from the narrative, but that, as stated earlier, is itself a series of digressions.
Book 8: More Fish and Some Gluttons
Book 8 begins by adding to the discussion of fish that occupied Book 7. It is reported that Cynulcus, the Cynic philosopher, was irritated because this lengthy aquatic discussion had caused the serving of dinner to be deferred. It is immediately deferred even more because the philosopher, Democritus of Nicomedia, insists that he needs: “to add a few more fish to our shopping list” (8.331c). Thus the encyclopedia of fish goes on, including the remark: “you have thrown us to the fish rather than the other way around” (8.335a), that is to say, by making such long speeches about fish we have been unable to eat any.
The continuing discussion of fish leads to a discussion of gluttons and gluttony: “The word opsophagos (‘glutton’) is used, my friends, as is opsophagein (‘to be a glutton’)” (8.345f). Various gluttons are named and passages on gluttony are quoted. We are not told why gluttony becomes a topic mixed with the discussion of fish. Fish seems a rather light food, not too filling, whereas gluttony seems more to be associated with consuming whole legs of lamb or great quantities of roasts, perhaps also great numbers of oysters. This sense of gluttony reminds one of scenes of meals of Rabelaisian proportions. Democritus relates an example of the Syrian queen, Gatis, who: “was such a glutton that she announced that no one was to eat fish except (ater) Gatis” (8.346c). Her subjects were ordered to bring all fish to her to eat. The topic of gluttony itself is part of what in fact is a gluttony of words. The discussion of fish is a mental gluttony, a discussion continued almost for its own sake.
The book ends with the claim that human beings originally came from the sea: “Since this treatise too has come to an end, my friend Timocrates, it is appropriate for me to conclude my speech at this point, so that no one believes that I was ever a fish [and am thus overly interested in them], as Empedocles was. For the scientist says: ‘Because before this I was a boy, a girl, a bush, a bird, and an ellopos fish leaping out of the sea’” (8.365e). This is a line concerning the transmigrations of living beings, from the poems of Empedocles.6 Empedocles’s statement is directed to the origin of human beings as distinct from gods, and is not meant as a claim concerning his own personal origin. This sense of origin is in contrast to the apotheosis of Empedocles at the end of his life, as related by Heraclides of Pontus.7
Book 9: Dinner Resumes
Book 9 begins with a quotation from the fourth book of the Odyssey, in which Menelaus says: “Let us think once again of our dinner, and let them pour water over our hands; and beginning at dawn there will be stories (Od.4.213–14)” (9.366a). The original Greek is quoted precisely, but the translation is somewhat misleading. The “stories” at dawn means that Menelaus will have opportunity to have a full conversation with Telemachus. Here the quotation is used as a preface, to resume the description of the foods served at dinner.
It is then reported that hams were served, and Ulpian, the grammarian, intervenes to question several terms associated with ham and the sauce with which it is served. He questions whether mustard should be called napu or sinapu. This is an example of the terminological interjections of Ulpian that run throughout all fifteen books. Sauces for seafood are mentioned, and Ulpian says: “I see that fermented fish-sauce has been mixed with the vinegar, and I know that nowadays some residents of the Black Sea region manufacture a vinegar-and-fermented-fish sauce specifically as such” (9.366c). This sauce is likely a version of the famous garum that appears in the cookbook of Apicius.
After some discussion and quotations concerning types of ham and sauces, Athenaeus announces: “Immediately after this, many different types of food were served; I will describe only those that deserve special mention” (9.368f). What follows are accounts of turnips, cabbage, beets, carrots, leeks, gourds; then chickens are discussed at length. There are interesting comments on the Greek words for rooster, including the comic exchange in the Clouds in which Aristophanes has Socrates tell Strepsiades that alektruaina (“roosteress”) should be used as a feminine form in contrast to the male term, alektōr (rooster). Athenaeus says: “It has this name because it rouses us from bed (lektron)” (9.374d). One is reminded of the death scene at the end of the Phaedo, when Socrates tells Crito to offer a cock to Asclepius, the god of healing. It is likely directed to Aristophanes, since his false portrayal of Socrates in the Clouds did much to shape the negative opinion of Socrates’ activity held by the hoi polloi.
As the dinner proceeds a pig is served, stuffed with thrushes and various other birds. Geese, pheasants, partridges, quail, swans, pigeons, ducks, peacocks, larks, and ostriches were served, received with many citations and comments. Also there were suckling-pigs, hares, wild boars, and various casserole dishes combining meats and vegetables.
At one point the views of several cooks are quoted, regarding how to prepare and serve a meal. It is said that: “Organization implies wisdom everywhere, in every profession; but in ours it’s almost the most important quality there is” (9.378f). The principles are expressed that various dishes must be served at just the right moment, depending upon whether they are hot, cold, or at room temperature. The meal must be properly paced, with an almost military sense of strategy.
Book 10: Athenaeus’s Method
Book 10 opens and closes with quotations that are programmatic for the whole of Athenaeus’s speech to Timocrates on the learned banqueters. He first quotes from the satyr play Heracles, by the tragic poet Astydamas: “A clever poet should supply his audience with a rich feast that resembles an elegant dinner, so everyone eats and drinks whatever he likes before he leaves, and the entertainment doesn’t consist of a single course” (10.411b). Although Athenaeus’s narration is not a poem, it is conceived by him in accordance with this analogy of a literary work and a banquet. At a banquet one may eat and drink whatever one wishes from a totality that is set out before the guests. Athenaeus’s text presents the reader with all that can be thought and has been thought in regard to dining, considered as a feast of food and of words, of the distinctively human act of eating and of knowing (homo sapiens).
The theme of Book 10, at least in part, is the gluttony of Heracles (Roman, Hercules). Athenaeus says: “Almost every poet and prose-author makes this clear” (10.411b). Heracles is the greatest of the heroes and the greatest of eaters. Athenaeus’s task is Herculean in that he must put together all that can be said concerning eating. Athenaeus concludes Book 10 by quoting Metagenes’s The Man Who Loved Sacrifices: “I vary my plot interlude by interlude, in order to feast my audience on many novel appetizers” (10.459c).
In presenting his narration Athenaeus likens what he says to serving appetizers. The reader, like the diner, is to try one after another, finding whatever he may like in each. Athenaeus likely introduces these insights into his method at this late date in his speech because now his audience, including Timocrates, can best appreciate them, having had ongoing experience of how his thoughts appear.
Besides remarks on the gluttony of Heracles, much of Book 10 is taken up with comments on the drinking of wine and the importance of avoiding drunkenness. Thus: “According to Plato in Book VI of the Laws (775b–c) drinking until you are intoxicated is not appropriate or safe anywhere except at the festivals celebrated in honor of the god who gave us wine” (10.431f). Plato’s Republic (562c–d) is also cited, drawing an analogy between the need for moderation in the ruling of cities as for moderation in the consumption of wine by tempering the wine with sufficient water (10.444a–b). Drunkenness is gluttony in regard to wine.
Book 11: Types of Drinking Vessels
The theme of Book 11, concerning the various types of cups from which to drink, follows naturally from the discussion of wine. It opens with the statememt: “Because we had gathered on time and with considerable excitement, motivated by the drinking vessels; and while everyone was still seated, and before there had been any conversation. Ulpian said: ‘In Adrastus’ house, my friends, the nobles eat dinner seated’” (11.459d). The topic of cups had been announced at the end of Book 10; thus there is anticipation of this and of the drinking party that was to accompany it. Everyone is seated, but they will recline on their couches when the drinking party or symposium will begin. Ulpian remarks on the fact that nobles eat dinner seated.
Ulpian’s remark recalls a passage in Book 10 concerning the Greeks in this regard: that “when they began to live a pampered, luxurious life-style, they slipped off their chairs onto couches; made relaxation and leisure their allies; and began to get drunk in a careless, sloppy way, being led into hedonism, in my opinion, by their possessions” (10.428b). The practice of sitting at table is older than reclining on couches. But the learned banqueters will follow the custom of reclining while drinking. That luxury corrupts is a claim that is held by the ancients as well as the eighteenth-century philosophes.
“The word [for cups, “potēria”] is derived from posis (‘drink’); compare the use of ekpōma (‘drinking vessel’) by Attic authors, who employ the verbs hudropotein (‘to drink water’) and oinopotein (‘to drink wine’)” (11.460b–c). It is also pointed out that kulix is a common term for a drinking cup. The discussion turns to whether the ancients used large cups when they drank and it is pointed out that the king’s cup was always large. It is also pointed out that “The so-called Seven Wise Men also held drinking parties” (11.463c). Wine, it is said, offers consolation for the misery of old age. Also, “It is said that people originally drank using cow’s horns; as a consequence, statues of Dionysus have horns, and many poets refer to him as a bull” (11.476a).
As might be expected, the reader is given many pages cataloging types of cups, made from various metals as well as wood, in various shapes, presented in terms of quotations from numerous ancient authors. The reader is justifiably baffled as to why the learned banqueters are so interested in what is a great quantity of minutia, accompanied by much lexical discussion. It is clear that Athenaeus is quite interested in it, but the extended discussion of these vessels contains no real ideas about dining or symposia, except for the insistence on the importance of mixing water with wine.
Book 12: Those Who Are Addicted to Luxury
The narrator, Athenaeus, opens this book with the claim that Timocrates has asked him again and again to relate accounts of individuals who were addicted to luxury, and their dissipation. Underlying his narrative is the view of the Cyrenaiac philosophical school that advocated pleasure to be the supreme good. He claims that the Cyrenaic sect originated with Socrates’ friend Aristippus of Cyrene (12.544a). The remarks on the Cyrenaic school that Athenaeus makes are generally accurate to their doctrine.
Athenaeus says that for the Cyrenaics, “pleasure exists only in the individual moment” (12.544b). The memory of past pleasure or the expectation of pleasures to come are of no significance. The Good exists exclusively in the moment. It is simply the moment that gives one pleasure. This view is a direct challenge to the Socratic claim that pleasure cannot be the Good because to pursue it is like attempting to fill a bucket with a hole in it. The bucket can never be filled. One pleasure must constantly be replaced by another. Instead of seeing this impermanence of pleasure as a defect in guiding human action, the Cyrenaics claim it to be its value. The Cyrenaics lived for the enjoyment of the moment and regarded this sense of life as natural. Pleasure was not simply the avoidance of pain but was a positive state in itself. One pleasure was regarded to be as good as another. There was no hierarchy of pleasures.
Athenaeus devotes the whole of the book to examples of the pursuit of luxury that would coincide with the Cyreniac view of pleasure. He says: “The first people to be notorious for their addition to luxury were the Persians” (12.513f). Luxury in this and succeeding instances is not especially connected to dining, but to exorbitant life styles. He says the Etruscans led lives of unheard-of luxury (12.517d). This view accords with the general historical judgment that the Etruscans were a pleasure-loving people. Athenaeus says: “Sicilian tables are notoriously luxurious” (12.518c). He names also the Sybarites and the Crotonites as committed to luxury, as well as the Iberians. He regards luxury as always eventually corrupting a people. He says the Scythians were the first to have laws that applied to everyone, and thus they created a strong society, but then they became addicted to luxury and were overwhelmed by it (12.524c).
These are some of the various peoples that Athenaeus lists, as well as various individuals. Toward the end of his narrative he says: “How much better it is, my good Timocrates, to be poor and thinner than the individuals Hermippus lists in Cercopes (fr.36), than to be much too rich and resemble the sea-monster in Tanagra, like the men mentioned above!” (12.551a). By implication, the position of Athenaeus appears to be some form of moderation, but one that does not deny the value of pleasure and that finds the pursuit of pleasure to be natural, if regulated by prudence.
Book 13: Matters Relating to Love
Athenaeus turns from the general topic of luxury to that of love. He says that the learned banqueters often “talked about married women as well as courtesans [hetaerae] . . . I will first invoke the Muse Erato, asking that I have no difficulty recalling my catalogue of erotica” (13.555b). The hetaerae are the class of highly cultivated women of ancient Greece separate from the class of married women or slaves. Erato is the Muse of lyric poetry, but here there is a pun on eros. The pun is apt, since love poetry is lyric in form. Athenaeus’s reference to memory fits with Mnemosyne, or Memory, being the mother of the Muses.
Book 13, like the one before it, is a catalogue of examples of its subject. Sexual relations are pleasures that go along with those of dining, but they are presented here as natural and not a matter of dissipation, as is the addiction to luxury. Athenaeus says that: “What I have described are actual courtesans, which is to say, women capable of maintaining a friendship not based on trickery” (13.571c). Courtesans do not exploit nor are they exploited. They conduct themselves as friends. “Even today, at any rate, free women and girls refer to their friends and associates as hetairai” (13.571d).
Athenaeus is in favor of the role of courtesans and speaks throughout in a positive manner regarding their role. He wishes to show that courtesans are not in competition with the pursuit of philosophy. He says: “Did not this Epicurus, at any rate, have Leontion, who was notorious for being a courtesan, as his lover? Nor did she stop working as a prostitute once she began to study philosophy, and she had sex with all Epicurus’ followers in the Gardens, even right before Epicurus’ eyes” (13.588b). The Epicureans generally accepted hetaerae into their circle. Athenaeus’s reference to Epicurus is significant because the doctrine of pure pleasure of the Cyrenaics historically disintegrated before the advance of the modified hedonism of Epicurus.
Athenaeus says Epicurus claims: “For I, at any rate, am unable to conceive of ‘the Good’ if I remove from consideration the pleasure derived from the favors of food, or from sex, or from music, or if I exclude bodily motions that are pleasant to watch” (13.546e). The purely kinetic pleasure of Aristippus must be connected to the absence of disturbance of the soul, or ataraxia, endorsed by the Epicurean ethic. Indeed, some form of Epicureanism appears to be the philosophical underpinning of the learned banqueters. In support of this view is the fact that Book 13 ends with an attack on the Cynic philosophy of incivility, saying that the Cynics are “foul-mouthed gluttons” willing to say or eat anything and who “live without a hearth or a home” (13.611d).
Book 14: Second Tables
This book opens with an admonition not to drink strong wine or to drink too much, a frequent theme throughout Athenaeus’s narrative. These brief remarks are followed by a discussion of various forms of musical entertainment, also a theme previously encountered. Included in this discourse is the report that “Our parties also featured rhapsodes. For Larensius [the host] was more fond of Homer’s poetry than anyone can imagine” (14.620b). Listening to music and to rhapsodes reciting Homer’s poetry would replace conversation but also provide a basis for it. Regarding music, the comic poet Eupolis is quoted: “Music’s a profound business—and a complicated one, which always presents those capable of appreciating it with something new” (14.623e). The virtues of music are discussed at length. At one point it is said: “In the old days, music encouraged bravery” (14.627a). It is also said that the Spartans go into battle accompanied by pipes and the Cretans go accompanied by the lyre (14.627d).
Then, “After Masurius completed these lengthy remarks [on music], what are referred to as the second tables were brought around for us” (14.639b). The second tables are laden with little plates of nuts, dried fruits, and savories, as well as pastries and cakes. These are referred to as epiphorēmata, from the verb epidorpisasthai, “to snack,” “to eat something after dinner” (14.640f). The second table corresponds to the general principle of dessert and is regarded as a considerable expense. It is connected to a long discussion of types of cakes, mostly composed of wheat, honey, and figs. The second table can also include peacocks or partridges as well as slices of ham.
The second table may include a special dish called muma. “A muma of any sort of meat, including chicken, should be made by dicing up the soft portions of the meat; stirring them in with the entrails, the guts, and the blood; and seasoning the dish with vinegar, roasted cheese, silphium [an extinct plant used medicinally by the Greeks], cumin, fresh and dried coriander, a bulb-less onion, some nice toasted onion or poppy-seeds, raisins or honey, and seeds from an acidic pomegranate” (14.662d–e). It is pointed out that muma can also be made from fish, but the recipe is not provided. Exactly how muma would taste is a challenge to the culinary imagination, especially with the inclusion of chicken entrails and blood. Perhaps if other meat is used it is a forerunner of souse or the Pennsylvania Dutch dish, “scrapple.” Muma would qualify as a savory in the course of the second table.
The book closes with Athenaeus saying it was now evening, and the banqueters go their separate ways.
Book 15: The Origin and Purpose of Garlands
The fifteenth book of this excessively long work presents the reader with no particular conclusion. Athenaeus begins by quoting Euripides: “If a god were to grant me the eloquent melodiousness of Nestor or Phrygian Antenor, to quote the insightful Euripides (fr.899), my friend Timocrates, I would be unable even so to recall for you what was said on every occasion at those brilliant parties, on account of both the diversity and the similarity of the ever-new topics put forward” (15.665a). Euripides’ reference is to the third book of the Iliad, where it is said that Antenor, as well as other leaders of the Trojans, being too old for battle, became good speakers, “like cicadas that in a forest sit on a tree and pour out their lily-like voice” (Il.3.148–53). Athenaeus says further: “The fact is that the conversation routinely involved the order of the dishes served and the events that followed the meal, and I can recount what was said only with difficulty” (15.665a).
Athenaeus’s narration is like the voice of the cicadas, as it goes on and on and we cannot cease listening. One is reminded of the passage in Plato’s Phaedrus, in which the cicadas, who once were human beings, after their brief lives report to the Muses on who is leading a philosophical life (259c). Athenaeus reports to Timocrates, and hence to us, the philosophical nature of the human activity of dining. Given the length of his narrative, it is difficult to believe he has left much of anything out. His narrative is a mental magnet that draws everything toward itself.
Most of this final book is a discussion of the practice of making and wearing garlands. Athenaeus gives a physiological account of the origin of garlands. They originated as a cure for the headaches that resulted from too much drinking at dinner parties: “For when someone’s head hurt, according to Andreas, he applied pressure to it and got relief, and he thus discovered that wrapping cures a headache. At their drinking parties, therefore, they used this form of assistance and began to bind the participants’ heads” (15.675d).
There is a discussion of the types of garlands best suited for this purpose, such as ivy, myrtle, roses, laurel, or even marjoram. Since garlands have a pleasant smell, the discussion proceeds to the use of perfumes. Garlands and perfumes add to the atmosphere of dinner parties. “Garlands and perfume used to be brought into the party just before the second table, as Nicostratus establishes in Falsely Tattooed (fr.27), in the following passage: ‘You! Get the second table ready! Put all kinds of snacks on it! And get perfume, garlands, frankincense, and a pipe-girl’” (15.685c–d).
The work ends with a complicated statement, the most philosophical thing said in the entire fifteen books. “The preceding, my dearest Timocrates, were not the witty remarks of Plato’s young and handsome Socrates, but the earnest conversation pursued by the learned banqueters. For to quote Dionysius Chalcous, ‘What is finer, as we begin or end, than what we desire most?’” (15.702c). Athenaeus’s reference is to the second letter of Plato, in which he says nothing of his doctrine has ever been written down, nor should any true doctrine be written down. It is best committed to memory. Plato says: “There is no writing of Plato’s, nor will there ever be; those that are now called so come from an idealized and youthful Socrates. Farewell and heed my warning; read this letter again and again, then burn it” (Ep 2.314c; see also 7.341c).
What is the intention of Athenaeus in this final reflection on his work? He has begun the work by affirming that it is a first-hand report (1.1f). Thus it is a true account of what occurred. It is, however, a written account. The reader or listener, including Timocrates, must realize that the meaning of what is said cannot be written down. All real philosophy is esoteric, beyond speech, even if pursued at the level of the Greek orators, those whom, Athenaeus says, are his models.
The line from Dionysius Chalcous, a poet of the fifth century B.C., is a riddle, something characteristic of his poetry. What is it we desire most? What we desire most is wisdom (sophia), and wisdom is a knowledge of things divine and human and the causes of each. The purpose of Athenaeus’s work is to let us know what it means to be wise in a particular way. What the Deipnosophistai offer us are the pleasures of the pursuit of wisdom, joined with the pleasures of the table.