CHAPTER VI. ENTERTAINMENTS. The man upon the creations of whose art the principal enjoyments of Greek gourmands were based was the cook,[803] whose character and achievements ought not perhaps to be entirely passed over. We are, indeed, chiefly indebted for our information to the comic poets; but, in spite of some little exaggeration, the likeness they have bequeathed to us is probably upon the whole pretty exact. ----- Footnote 803: On famous Cooks see Max. Tyr. Dissert. v. 60. 83. Pollux, vi. 70, seq. Athen. iii. 60. ----- The Athenian cook was a singularly heterogeneous being, something between the parasite and the professed jester; he was usually a poor citizen, with all the pride of autochthoneïty about him, who considered it indispensable to acquire, besides his culinary lore, a smattering of many other kinds of knowledge, not only for the purpose of improving his soups or ragouts, but in order, by the orations he pronounced in praise of himself, to dazzle and allure such persons as came to the agora in search of an artist of his class. Of course the principal source of his oratory lay among pots and frying-pans, and the wonders effected by his art. Philemon hits off with great felicity one of these worthies, who desires to convey a lofty opinion of himself,— “How strong is my desire ’fore earth and heaven, To tell how daintily I cooked his dinner ’Gainst his return! By all Athena’s owls! ’Tis no unpleasant thing to hit the mark On all occasions. What a fish had I— And ah! how nicely fried! Not all bedevilled With cheese, or browned atop, but though well done, Looking alive, in its rare beauty dressed. With skill so exquisite the fire I tempered, It seemed a joke to say that it was cooked. And then, just fancy now you see a hen Gobbling a morsel much too big to swallow; With bill uplifted round and round she runs Half choking; while the rest are at her heels Clucking for shares. Just so ’twas with my soldiers; The first who touched the dish upstarted he Whirling round in a circle like the hen, Eating and running; but his jolly comrades, Each a fish worshiper, soon joined the dance, Laughing and shouting, snatching some a bit, Some missing, till like smoke the whole had vanished. Yet were they merely mud-fed river dabs: But had some splendid scaros graced my pan, Or Attic glaucisk, or, O saviour Zeus! Kapros from Argos, or the conger eel, Which old Poseidon exports to Olympos, To be the food of gods, why then my guests Had rivalled those above. I have, in fact, The power to lavish immortality On whom I please, or, by my potent art, To raise the dead, if they but snuff my dishes!”[804] -----