Gollmer published a free version of Apicius in German in 1909. If he did not render the original very faithfully and literally, it must be said in all fairness that his methods of procedure were correct.
Gollmer attempted to interpret the ancient text for the modern reader. Unfortunately he based his work upon that of Schuch and Wuestemann and Lister. A year or so later Eduard Danneil published a version of his own, also based on Schuch. This editor is a practising _chef_,--_Hof-Traiteur_ or caterer to the court of one of the then reigning princes of Germany. Danneil"s preface is dated 1897, though the date of publication is 1911. In view of the fact that Gollmer had covered the ground and that Danneil added nothing new to Apician lore, his publication seems superfluous. Danneil"s translation differs in that the translator adhered literally to the questionable Schuch version whereas Gollmer aspired to a free and readable version for an educated public.
A comparison reveals that the one author is not a cook while the other is not a savant.
Like the scholars who tried their hand at cookery, there are a number of worthy and ambitious pract.i.tioners of cookery who have endeavored to reach the heights of scholarship, among them Careme and Soyer, men of great calibre. Unfortunately, the span of human life is short, the capacity of the human mind is limited. Fruitful achievements in widely different fields of endeavor by one man are rare. This is merely to ill.u.s.trate the extreme difficulty encountered by anyone bent on a venturesome exploration of our subject and the very narrow chances of success to extricate himself with grace from the two-thousand year old labyrinth of philosophical, historical, linguistical and gastronomical technicalities.
This task will become comparatively easy, however, and surely interesting and with a foreboding of many delights and surprises if we penetrate the jungle aided by the experience of predecessors, steadfastly relying on the "theory of evolution" as a guide, and armed with the indispensable equipment for gastronomical research, i.e., the practical and technical knowledge of cookery, mastery of languages, augmented by practical experience gathered by observations and travel in many lands, and last but not least, if we are obsessed with the fixed idea that so menial a subject is worth all the bother.
We have purposely refrained from presenting here a treatise in the customary scientific style. We know, there are repet.i.tions, digressions, excursions into adjacent fields that may be open to criticism. We really do not aim to make this critical review an exhibition of scholarly attainments with all the necessary brevity, clarity, scientific restraint and etiquette. Such style would be entirely out of our line. Any bookish flavor attaching itself to our work would soon replace a natural fragrance we aim to preserve, namely our close contact with the subject. Those interested in the scholarly work that has been contributed to this cause are referred to modern men like Vollmer, Giarratano, Brandt and others named in the bibliography. Of the older scientists there is Martinus Lister, a man whose knowledge of the subject is very respectable and whose devotion to it is unbounded, whose integrity as a scientist is above reproach.
His notes and commentaries together with those of Humelbergius, the editor-physician of Zurich, will be enjoyed and read with profit by every antiquary. The labors of Bernhold and Schuch are meritorious also, the work, time, and _esprit_ these men have devoted to the subject is enormous. As for Torinus, the opinions are divided.
Humelbergius ignores him, Gryphius pirates him, Lister scorns him, we like him. Lister praises his brother physician, Humelbergius: _Doctus quidem vir et modestus!_ So he is! The notes by Humelbergius alone and his word: _Nihil immutare ausi summus!_ ent.i.tles him to all the praise Lister can bestow. Unfortunately, the sources of his information are unknown.
Lacking these, we have of course no means of ascertaining whether he always lived up to his word that he is not privileged to change.
Humelbergius and Lister may have made contributions of value from a philological point of view but their work appears to have less merit gastronomically than that of Torinus. To us the Basel editor often seems surprisingly correct in cases where the gastronomical character of a formula is in doubt.
In rendering the ancient text into English we, too, have endeavored to follow Humelbergii example; hence the almost literal translation of the originals before us, namely, Torinus, Humelbergius, Lister, Bernhold, Schuch and the latest, Giarratano-Vollmer which reached us in 1925 in time for collating. We have wavered often and long whether or not to place alongside this English version the original Latin text, but due to the divergencies we have finally abandoned the idea, for practical reasons alone.
In translating we have endeavored to clear up mysteries and errors; this interpretation is a work quite apart and independent of that of the translation. It is merely the sum and substance of our practical experience in gastronomy. It is not to be taken as an attempt to change the original but is presented in good faith, to be taken on its face value. This interpretation appears in the form of notes directly under each article, for quick reference and it is our wish that it be of some practical service in contributing to the general understanding and appreciation of our ancient book.
For the sake of expediency we have numbered and placed a t.i.tle (in English) on each ancient recipe, following the example of Schuch. This procedure may be counted against us as a liberty taken with the text.
The text has remained inviolate. We have merely aimed at a rational and legible presentation--work within the province and the duty of an editor-translator and technical expert.
We do not claim credit for any other work connected with the task of making this most unique book accessible to the English speaking public and for the compet.i.tion for scholastic laurels we wish to stay _hors de combat_. We feel we are not privileged to pa.s.s final judgment upon the excellent work done by sympathetic and erudite admirers of our ancient book throughout the better part of four centuries, and we cannot side with one or the other in questions philological, historical, or of any other nature, except gastronomical. We are deeply indebted to all of our predecessors and through conversations and extensive correspondence with other modern researchers, Dr. Edward Brandt and Dr. Margaret B. Wilson, we are enabled to predict new developments in Apician research. The debates of the scientists, it appears, are not yet closed.
As a matter of fact, the various differences of opinion in minor questions are of little import to us as compared with the delightful fact that we here possess an Apicius, not only a genuine Roman, but an "honest-to-goodness" human being besides. A jolly fellow is Apicius with a basketful of happy messages for a hungry world. We therefore want to make this work of ours the entertainment and instruction the subject deserves to be. If we succeed in proving that Apicius is not a mummified, bone-dry cla.s.sic but that he has "the goods," namely some real human merit we shall have accomplished more than the savants to whom this popularization of our hero has been denied so far.
After all, we live in a practical age, and it is the practical value, the matter-of-fact contribution to our happiness and well-being by the work of any man, ancient or modern, which counts in these days of materialism.
So let us tell the truth, and let us sum up in a few words:
We do not know who Apicius is. We do not know who wrote the book bearing his name. We do not know when it was written, or whether it is of Greek or of Roman origin. Furthermore, we do not understand many of its precepts!
We do know, however, that it is the oldest work dealing with the food and the cookery of the ancient world"s greatest empire, and that, as such, it is of the utmost interest and importance to us.
In this sense we have endeavored to treat the book.
DINING IN APICIAN STYLE
Past attempts to dine a l"Apicius invariably have ended disastrously.
Eager _gourmets_, ever on the look-out for something new, and curious scholars have attempted to prepare dishes in the manner prescribed by Apicius. Most of such experimenters have executed the old precepts literally, instead of trying to enter into their spirit.
"_Das Land der Griechen mit der Seele suchen!_" says Goethe. The friends of Apicius who failed to heed this advice, also failed to comprehend the precepts, they were cured of their curiosity, and blamed the master for their own shortcomings. Christina, queen of Sweden, was made ill by an attempt of this kind to regale her majesty with a rare Apician morsel while in Italy as the guest of some n.o.ble.
But history is dark on this point. Here perhaps Apicius is blamed for a dastardly attempt on the royal lady"s life for this daughter of the Protestant Gustavus Adolphus was in those days not the only crowned head in danger of being dispatched by means of some tempting morsel smilingly proffered by some t.i.tled rogue. A deadly dish under the disguise of "Apicius" must have been particularly convenient in those days for such sinister purposes. The sacred obligations imposed upon "barbarians" by the virtue of hospitality had been often forgotten by the super-refined hosts of the Renaissance.
But Apicius continued to prove unhealthful to a number of later amateurs. Lister, with his perfectly sincere endeavor to popularize Apicius, achieved precisely the opposite. The publication of his work in London, 1705, was the signal for a number of people, scholars and others, to crack jokes, not at the expense of Apicius, as they imagined, but to expose their own ignorance. Smollet, Dr. W. King ("Poor starving wit"--Swift), Dr. Hunter and others. More recently, a party of English dandies, chaperoned, if we remember correctly, by the ponderous George Augustus Sala, fared likewise badly in their attempt to stage a Roman feast, being under the impression that the days of Tiberius and the mid-Victorian era may be joined with impunity, _a la minute_, as it were.
Even later, in one of the (alas! not so many) good books on gastronomy, "Kettner"s Book of the Table," London, 1877, the excellent author dismisses Roman cookery with a few lines of "warning." Kettner, admirer of Sala, evidently was still under the baneful influence.
Twenty years later, Danneil, colleague of Kettner"s, joined the chorus of "irreverent critics." They all based their judgment on mere idle conversation, resulting from disappointments in ill-fated attempts to cook in the Apician style. Even the best experts, it appears, fall victims to the mysterious spell surrounding, protecting things of sacred antiquity, hovering like an avenging angel over them, to ward off all "irreverent critics" and curious intruders.
THE PROOF OF THE PUDDING
After all, the proof of the pudding is in the eating. This homely solid wisdom is literally true of our good old Apicius. We have tested many of his precepts, and have found them practical, good, even delightful. A few, we will say, are of the rarest beauty and of consummate perfection in the realm of gastronomy, while some others again are totally unintelligible for reasons sufficiently explained.
Always remembering Humelbergius, we have "laid off" of these torsos, recommending them to some more competent commentator. Many of the ancient formula tried have our unqualified gastronomic approval.
If our work has not differed from that of our predecessors, if it shows the same human frailties and foibles, we have at least one mark of distinction among the editors in that we have subjected the original to severe practical tests as much as this is possible with our modern food materials. We experienced difficulty in securing certain spices long out of use. Nevertheless, the experience of actually sampling Apician dishes and the sensation of dining in the manners of the Caesars are worth the trouble we took with Apicius. This is a feeling of partaking of an entirely new dish, met with both expectancy and with suspicion, accentuated by the hallowed traditions surrounding it which has rewarded us for the time and expense devoted to the subject. Ever since we have often dined in the cla.s.sical fashion of the ancients who, after all, were but "folks" like ourselves.
If you care not for the carnal pleasures in Apician gastronomy--for _gulam_,--if you don"t give a fig for philology, there still is something healthy, something infinitely soothing and comforting--"educational"--in the perusal of the old book and in similar records.
When we see Apicius, the famous "epicure" descending to the very level of a common food "fakir," giving directions for making Liburnian oil that has never seen that country....
When we note, with a gentle shudder, that the grafters of Naples, defying even the mighty Augustus, leveled the "White Earth Hill" near Puteoli because an admixture of plaster paris is exceedingly profitable to the milling profession....
When Apicius--celebrated glutton--resorts to the comparatively harmless "stunt" of keeping fresh vegetables green by boiling them in a copper kettle with soda....
When we behold hordes of ancient legislators, posing as dervishes of moderation, secretly and openly breaking the prohibition laws of their own making....
When we turn away from such familiar sights and, in a more jovial mood, heartily laugh at the jokes of that former mill slave, Plautus (who could not pay his bills) and when we wonder why his wise cracks sound so familiar we remember that we have heard their modern versions only yesterday at the Tivoli on State Street....
When, finally, in the company of our respected Horatius we hear him say in the slang of his day: _Ab ovo usque ad mala_, and compare this bright saying with our own dear "From Soup to Nuts."...
Then we arrive at the comforting conclusion that we moderns are either very ancient and backward or that indeed the ancients are very modern and progressive; and it is our only regret that we cannot decide this perplexing situation to our lasting satisfaction.
Very true, there may be nothing new under the sun, yet nature goes on eternally fashioning new things from old materials. Eternally demolishing old models in a manner of an economical sculptor, nature uses the same old clay to create new specimens. Sometimes nature slightly alters the patterns, discarding what is unfit for her momentary enigmatic purposes, retaining and favoring that which pleases her whimsical fancy for the time being.
Cookery deals exclusively with nature"s works. Books on cookery are essentially books on nature"s actions and reactions.
In the perpetual search for perfection, life has accomplished one remarkable thing: the development of man, the animal which cooks.
Gradually nature has revealed herself to man princ.i.p.ally through the food he takes, cooks and prepares for the enjoyment of himself and his fellow men.
THE COOKING ANIMAL
The gastronomer is the highest development of the cooking animal.
He--artist, philosopher, metaphysician, religionist--stands with his head bared before nature: overawed, contemplating her gifts, feasting his eyes on beauteous forms and colors, inhaling intoxicating fragrances, aromas, odors, matching them all artistically, partaking only of what he needs for his own subsistence--eternally marveling at nature"s inexhaustible resources and inventiveness, at her everlasting bounty born of everlasting fierce struggles.
The gastronomer is grateful for the privilege of holding the custodianship of such precious things, and he guards it like an office of a sacred rite--ever gratefully, reverently adoring, cherishing the things before him ... ever marveling ... ever alone, alone with nature.
As for the overwhelming majority of the cooking animals, they behave much more "naturally." They are a merry crowd, ever antic.i.p.ating a good time, ever jolly, eager, greedy. Or, they are cranky, hungry, starved, miserable, and they turn savage now and then. Some are gluttonous. Many contract indigestion--nature"s most subtle punishment.
If they were told that they must kill before they may cook--that might spoil the appet.i.te and dinner joy of many a tender-hearted devourer of fellow-creatures.
Heaven forbid! Being real children of nature, and behaving naturally, nature likes them, and we, too, certainly are well pleased with the majority.
The only fly in the ointment of life is that we don"t know what it is all about, and probably never will know.