Cookery and Dining in Imperial Rome

justice to the ancient work and complete the presentation of its history. The controversies that have raged over it make this course necessary. Our predecessors have not had the benefit of modern communication, and, therefore, could not know all that is to be known on the subject. We sympathize with Lister yet do not condemn Torinus. If Torinus ever dared making important changes in the old text, they are easily ascertained by collation with other texts. This we have endeavored to do. Explaining the discrepancies, it will be noted that we have not given a full vote of confidence to Lister. Why should the mysterious C{oe}lius or Cælius, if such an author or compiler of a tome on cookery existed affix the name of "Apicius" to it? The reason would be commercial gain, prestige accruing from the name of that cookery celebrity. Such business sense would not be extraordinary. Modern cooks pursue the same method. Witness the innumerable à la soandsos. Babies, apartment houses, streets, cities, parks, dogs, race horses, soap, cheese, herring, cigars, hair restorers are thus named today. "Apicius" on the front page of any ancient cookery book would be perfectly consistent with the ancient spirit of advertising. It has been stated, too, that C{oe}lius had more than one collaborator. Neither can this be proven. The copyists have made many changes throughout the original text. Misspelling of terms, ignorance of cookery have done much to obscure the meaning. The scribes of the middle ages had much difficulty in this respect since medieval Latin is different from Apician language. The very language of the original is proof for its authenticity. The desire of Torinus to interpret to his medieval readers the ancient text is pardonable. How much or how little he succeeded is attested to by some of his contemporary readers, former owners of our copies. Scholars plainly confess inability to decipher Apicius by groans inscribed on the fly leaves and title pages in Latin, French and other languages. One French scholar of the 16th century, apparently "kidded" for studying an undecipherable cook book, stoically inscribes the title page