More on menstruating women and mirrors

I covered some of the Aristotelian tradition here. This time, an obscure man named Bithus (Bythus?) from Dyrrhachium, (modern Durrës in Albania), if we can trust Pliny and the manuscript tradition.

“Bithus of Dyrrachium says that mirrors dimmed by the look [sc. of menstruating women] recover their brightness when the same women return their gaze to the backs of them, and that all such powers are broken if women keep mullet-fish on them.”

bithus durrachinus hebetata aspectu specula recipere nitorem tradit isdem aversa rursus contuentibus, omnemque vim talem resolvi, si mullum piscem secum habeant.

Plinius Secundus, Naturalis historia 28.7

Aristotle on menstruating women and mirrors

“It is hard to believe that the man who set aside so widespread, tenacious and respectable a belief (sc. in the divine origin of prophetic dreams) accepted as fact the superstition that when a menstruous woman looks into the mirror its surface takes on a reddish tinge which may be difficult to remove.”

W.K.C. Guthrie, Review: Aristotle. Parva Naturalia. A revised text with introduction and commentary by Sir David Ross. (Oxford, Clarendon Press 1955. Pp. xi 355. Price £2.). Philosophy, 31 (118), 274-276.

“The story of the staining of the mirror by the eyes of a menstruating woman is thus a rationalization of a pre-existing superstition, the correctness of which Aristotle was not inclined to question, because he believed himself capable of explaining it.”

“Bei der Geschichte der Befleckung des Spiegels durch die Augen einer menstruierenden Frau haben wir es also mit einer Rationalisierung eines bereits vorhandenen Aberglaubens zu tun, dessen Richtigkeit Aristoteles nicht in Frage zu stellen geneigt war, weil er zu seiner Erklärung sehr wohl fähig zu sein glaubte.”

Philip van der Eijk, Aristoteles. De insomniis, De divinatione per somnum, Übersetzt und erläutert von Philip J. van der Eijk. Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1994, p. 182.

Superstition

I’ve been collecting texts related to a passage On Dreams where Aristotle says menstruating women tarnish a mirror when they look at it.

I think this has to be the strangest passage in Aristotle. It is not the frighteningly casual misogyny. Aristotle could have questioned his sources, something he often does, like when he questions seers’ beliefs about prophesying by dreams or when he questions fishermen’s reports of parthenogenic fish in the second book of Generation of Animals. Instead, his credulity in this case just goes to show how deeply he believed in the corrupting influence of women. The way he says it, it’s like he’s saying the most obvious thing in the world: when menstruating women look at a very bright mirror, a cloudy, bloody spot forms on the surface. If it’s a new mirror, then getting the stain out is very difficult; if it’s an older mirror, it’s easier. Like most of the men we are about to encounter, questioning this does not come up.

But for now, let’s suppose he’s picking up a common superstition. For a superstition, it is extremely specific. It’s not a lot of detail, but still weirdly specific enough to wonder if he had polished some such mirrors himself.

First, he says the mirrors need to be very clean (i.e., bright), so probably a highly polished bronze. Second, he says the newer the mirror, the harder it is to remove the tarnish, which means it can be buffed out, it just takes some work.

In fact, one thing about Aristotle’s description that makes it different from other reports of this phenomenon (all of which were written by people after Aristotle, by the way) is this kind of detail. We’ll see Pliny’s description, which is closer to what I would expect from superstition—with all his fear-mongering about menstrual blood sterilizing trees, killing bees, and giving dogs rabies, not to mention dimming mirrors, rusting metal, and dulling the edges of swords, and all given with no attempt to explain any of this nonsense.

Philip van der Eijk, whose commentary is the only detailed look at the Aristotle passage, points to parallels similar to Pliny in Columella De re rustica XI 3, 50; Geoponica XII 20, 5 and 25, 2; and Solinus, Collectanea Rerum Mirabilium I 54-56 (PJvdE p. 184). And indeed, they simply seem to take over Pliny’s account.

Aristotle, however, focuses not just on the fact that women causes mirrors to dim, or even cause bloody spots to appear on them, but on variations of the phenomenon, both with respect to the object affected (new vs. old mirrors) and on the type of effect (easy vs. hard to remove).

There’s a part of me that wants to find some explanation for this, to start from the assumption that the phenomenon was real, even though menstrual blood had nothing to do with it.

Did women’s bronze mirrors in particular show spots of rust? Was there some ingredient common to cosmetics or bronze polish or something which got onto fingers and then onto the mirror—something like soda (sodium carbonate) or white lead (lead carbonate)?

I found a website that explains how to get all sorts of different patinas on bronze or copper using different chemicals, but nothing really stuck out. And there is absolutely no record of this phenomenon anywhere at all apart from these weird passages.

So: was what Aristotle described a common superstition among the Greeks and Romans? Not really. It’s mentioned about ten times, and even then, rarely with the detail Aristotle goes into.

Is it plausibly a real phenomenon? That bronze tarnishes, sure. But that a specific rust-red patina shows up on bronze mirrors, or on specifically the kind of bronze alloy used for mirrors in antiquity? Who knows, but I’d be very curious to find out.

Explanations

I won’t get too much into the details here. Aristotle thinks that the eyes of menstruating women act on the mirror, via the air, I guess by changing the colour of the air, which changes the colour on the surface of the mirror. How he could have felt this is a satisfactory explanation is a mystery to me. Proclus, when he reports it, associates it with the arts of magicians and sympathetic relationality. Granted, sympathy hadn’t been thought up in Aristotle’s time, but I think Proclus probably couldn’t stand Aristotle’s explanation, and so he threw a reference to it in his discussion of the cave allegory in order to help him out.

Incredibly, Michael of Ephesus doesn’t even mention it. His commentary on Aristotle’s explanation is almost as weird as Aristotle’s explanation itself. He writes as if Aristotle was talking about an echo: if a menstruating woman looks at herself in a mirror, the small detail of the red in her eyes’ will be reflected back to her (we need to keep in mind here that mirrors back then would not have had the clarity and brightness of mirrors today); but on any other surface, it would not be.

Marsilio Ficino uses another analogy. He likens it to condensation. As breath condenses on a cold piece of glass, so the visual ray, which is a spirituous substance obviously, condenses on the cold, smooth, dense mirror when it touches it leaving a spot of blood. Before and after this passage, Ficino assimilates this explanation to the explanation of the evil eye and other forms of optical contagion. In all these cases, the contagion doesn’t operate sympathetically, but more like poisoning: if the visual ray, which is vaporized blood, condenses inside the body of someone else, then the blood, which was originally harmful (as it would be if it came from a person who was ill or menstruating or whatever), causes a change for the worse.

Another thing: these explanations totally re-describe the phenomenon: Aristotle is thinking of something like tarnish or rust. Proclus, however, ends up describing something else, like looking through red glasses or something. Michael thinks the phenomenon is seeing blood spots in the eyes via the mirror. And Ficino thinks a spot of blood (not tarnish) appears on the mirror.

Now, Aristotle is not an extramissionist: he doesn’t think sight is analogous to touch, i.e., that visual rays go out of the eye and touch objects, bringing back information about them. At least he’s not usually an extramissionist—there is all the stuff in the Meteorology where he seems to be.

Aristotle also doesn’t think particles leave surfaces and then come to our eyes (the standard criticism of this view is that if they did, we could never see things as big as mountains, since they could not fit into our pupil).

Instead, he thinks objects act on the air which acts on our eyes. And here he is trying to explain that the reverse is true as well: our eyes act on the air, which acts on objects. And he thinks this happens all the time, but in mirrors it is especially noticeable since they are especially sensitive to these changes. So sensitive in fact that the image can (so to speak) burn into the mirror.

So Ficino’s explanation is not Aristotle’s, because Ficino is an extramissionist. Michael’s explanation is not Aristotle’s either (I think he’s embarrassed at the text too and trying to save it). Meanwhile, Proclus is doing his own thing, trying to make it into a kind of magical illusion.

Aristotle, however, although he doesn’t use the term, is treating the process as one akin to alchemy, where the nature of a metal is changed into something else. And by extension, whether the intends to or not, he is conceiving of women as alchemists by nature.

Texts

Aristotle, On Dreams

“A sign that the sense-organs sense even a small difference quickly is what happens in the case of mirrors, a subject which, even on its own, someone might pause to inquire into and puzzle about. At the same time, from the same facts it is clear that, just as sight is acted upon, so it also produces some effect. For in the case of very clean mirrors, when menstruating women observe their reflection, the surface of the mirror becomes like a bloody cloud. And if the mirror is new, it is not easy to wipe off a stain like this; if it is old, however, it is easier.

“The cause, as we said, is that sight is not only affected by the air, but it also produces a certain effect and change. For the eye is a bright object and has colour. Therefore, it is reasonable that during menstruation, the eyes are affected, just like any other bodily part, for they are naturally veiny. For this reason, when menstruation occurs because of a disturbance and bloody inflammation, while to us the difference in the eyes is not evident, it is nevertheless present (for the nature of semen and the menstrual fluid is the same). The air is changed by the eyes, and since the air near the mirror is continuous [with it], it produces an effect like the one it was affected with, and then it produces the effect on the surface of the mirror.

“As with cloaks, those that are especially clean are quickest to be stained. For a clean mirror accurately shows whatever it receives, and an especially clean one shows even the smallest changes. The bronze mirror, because of how smooth it is, is especially sensitive to any touch (one should think about the air’s touch like a kind of friction, like wiping-off or washing), and because it is clean, it becomes evident, no matter its size. But the cause of stains not leaving quickly from new mirrors is cleanliness and smoothness. For through them, the stain permeates both deeply and all over: deeply because of their cleanliness, all over because of their smoothness. In the case of old mirrors, however, the stain does not remain, because the stain cannot penetrate in the same way, but only superficially.

“From this it is evident that change is caused even by small differences, that sensation is quick, and that the sense-organ of colours is not only affected, but produces an effect in return. Evidence for what we’ve described are facts about wines and perfumery. For oil, when it has been prepared, quickly takes on the scents of things close by, and wines are affected in the same way. For they not only acquire the scents of things thrown into them or mixed in with them, but also the things placed near or growing near the vessels.”

ὅτι δὲ ταχὺ τὰ αἰσθητήρια καὶ μικρᾶς διαφορᾶς αἰσθάνεται, σημεῖον τὸ ἐπὶ τῶν ἐνόπτρων γινόμενον· περὶ οὗ καὶ αὐτοῦ ἐπιστήσας σκέψαιτό τις ἂν καὶ ἀπορήσειεν. ἅμα δ' ἐξ αὐτοῦ δῆλον ὅτι ὥσπερ καὶ ἡ ὄψις πάσχει, οὕτω καὶ ποιεῖ τι. ἐν γὰρ τοῖς ἐνόπτροις τοῖς σφόδρα καθαροῖς, ὅταν τῶν καταμηνίων ταῖς γυναιξὶ γινομένων ἐμβλέψωσιν εἰς τὸ κάτοπτρον, γίνεται τὸ ἐπιπολῆς τοῦ ἐνόπτρου οἷον νεφέλη αἱματώδης· κἂν μὲν καινὸν ᾖ τὸ κάτοπτρον, οὐ ῥᾴδιον ἐκμάξαι τὴν τοιαύτην κηλίδα, ἐὰν δὲ παλαιόν, ῥᾷον.

αἴτιον δέ, ὥσπερ εἴπομεν, ὅτι οὐ μόνον πάσχει ἡ ὄψις ὑπὸ τοῦ ἀέρος, ἀλλὰ καὶ ποιεῖ τι καὶ κινεῖ, ὥσπερ καὶ τὰ λαμπρά· καὶ γὰρ ἡ ὄψις τῶν λαμπρῶν καὶ ἐχόντων χρῶμα. τὰ μὲν οὖν ὄμματα εὐλόγως, ὅταν ᾖ τὰ καταμήνια, διακεῖται ὥσπερ καὶ ἕτερον μέρος ὁτιοῦν· καὶ γὰρ φύσει τυγχάνουσι φλεβώδεις ὄντες. διὸ γινομένων τῶν καταμηνίων διὰ ταραχὴν καὶ φλεγμασίαν αἱματικὴν ἡμῖν μὲν ἡ ἐν τοῖς ὄμμασι διαφορὰ ἄδηλος, ἔνεστι δέ (ἡ γὰρ αὐτὴ φύσις σπέρματος καὶ καταμηνίων), ὁ δ' ἀὴρ κινεῖται ὑπ' αὐτῶν, καὶ τὸν ἐπὶ τῶν κατόπτρων ἀέρα συνεχῆ ὄντα ποιόν τινα ποιεῖ καὶ τοιοῦτον οἷον αὐτὸς πάσχει· ὁ δὲ τοῦ κατόπτρου τὴν ἐπιφάνειαν.

ὥσπερ δὲ τῶν ἱματίων, τὰ μάλιστα καθαρὰ τάχιστα κηλιδοῦται· τὸ γὰρ καθαρὸν ἀκριβῶς δηλοῖ ὅ τι ἂν δέξηται, καὶ τὸ μάλιστα τὰς ἐλαχίστας κινήσεις. ὁ δὲ χαλκὸς διὰ μὲν τὸ λεῖος εἶναι ὁποιασοῦν ἁφῆς αἰσθάνεται μάλιστα (δεῖ δὲ νοῆσαι οἷον τρίψιν οὖσαν τὴν τοῦ ἀέρος ἁφὴν καὶ ὥσπερ ἔκμαξιν καὶ ἀνάπλυσιν), διὰ δὲ τὸ καθαρὸν ἔνδηλος γίνεται ὁπηλικηοῦν οὖσα. τοῦ δὲ μὴ ἀπιέναι ταχέως ἐκ τῶν καινῶν κατόπτρων αἴτιον τὸ καθαρὸν εἶναι καὶ λεῖον· διαδύεται γὰρ διὰ τῶν τοιούτων καὶ εἰς βάθος καὶ πάντῃ, διὰ μὲν τὸ καθαρὸν εἰς βάθος, διὰ δὲ τὸ λεῖον πάντῃ. ἐν δὲ τοῖς παλαιοῖς οὐκ ἐμμένει, ὅτι οὐχ ὁμοίως εἰσδύεται ἡ κηλὶς ἀλλ' ἐπιπολαιότερον.

ὅτι μὲν οὖν καὶ ὑπὸ τῶν μικρῶν διαφορῶν γίνεται κίνησις, καὶ ὅτι ταχεῖα ἡ αἴσθησις, καὶ ὅτι οὐ μόνον πάσχει, ἀλλὰ καὶ ἀντιποιεῖ τὸ τῶν χρωμάτων αἰσθητήριον, φανερὸν ἐκ τούτων. μαρτυρεῖ δὲ τοῖς εἰρημένοις καὶ τὰ περὶ τοὺς οἴνους καὶ τὴν μυρεψίαν συμβαίνοντα. τό τε γὰρ παρασκευασθὲν ἔλαιον ταχέως λαμβάνει τὰς τῶν πλησίον ὀσμάς, καὶ οἱ οἶνοι τὸ αὐτὸ τοῦτο πάσχουσιν· οὐ γὰρ μόνον τῶν ἐμβαλλομένων ἢ ὑποκιρναμένων ἀλλὰ καὶ τῶν πλησίον τοῖς ἀγγείοις τιθεμένων ἢ πεφυκότων ἀναλαμβάνουσι τὰς ὀσμάς.

Aristotle, On Dreams, Chapter 2, 459b23–460a32*

*In the 1935 Loeb, the Greek of this passage is translated into Latin instead of English ffs!

Pliny the Elder, Natural History

“But it is not easy that anything should be discovered that is more monstrous than woman’s menstrual fluid. New wine turns sour by coming near it, crops that are touched become barren, grafts whither, seeds of the garden dry up, fruit of trees by which she sits falls off, the brightness of mirrors are dimmed by reflecting her, the edge of iron is dulled, the brightness of ivory, bee hives die, bronze and even iron are seized by rust, and the air is seized by an awful smell. Dogs become rabid by tasting it and their bite is infected by an incurable poison. In fact, bitumen, too, which has an otherwise pliable and sticky nature and which floats at certain times of the year on the lake of Judaea, which is called Asphaltites, is not able to be divided up, as it sticks to everything it makes contact with, except a thread which is infected with this slime. Also ants, the tiniest animal, and sensitive to its presence, reject the tasty fruit which it was carrying never to return to it again.”

sed nihil facile reperiatur mulierum profluvio magis monstrificum. acescunt superventu musta, sterilescunt tactae fruges, moriuntur insita, exuruntur hortorum germina, fructus arborum, quibus insidere, decidunt, speculorum fulgor aspectu ipso hebetatur, acies ferri praestringitur, eboris nitor, alvi apium moriuntur, aes etiam ac ferrum robigo protinus corripit odorque dirus aera; in rabiem aguntur gustato eo canes atque insanabili veneno morsus inficitur. quin et bituminum sequax alioqui ac lenta natura in lacu Iudaeae, qui vocatur Asphaltites, certo tempore anni supernatans non quit sibi avelli, ad omnem contactum adhaerens praeterquam filo quem tale virus infecerit. etiam formicis, animali minimo, inesse sensum eius ferunt abicique gustatas fruges nec postea repeti.

Plinii Naturalis Historia 7.64–65

Proclus, Commentary on Plato’s Timaeus

“For even the shadows [i.e., on the wall the cave], which they say the images correspond to, have a nature of this kind. For these are likenesses of bodies and shapes, and they are in total sympathy with those things from which they arise, as it is also clear from the magic arts which profess to do things with images and shadows. And why mention only their powers? For even irrational animals have them, without any rational activity. For the hyena, they say, when it wants to eat, it casts its shadow on top of a resting dog and makes the dog a meal.* And Aristotle says that when a menstruating women looks into a mirror, the mirror and the reflected image are stained with blood.”

καὶ γὰρ αἱ σκιαί, αἷς τὰ εἴδωλα συζυγεῖν φησιν, τοιαύτην ἔχουσι φύσιν· καὶ γὰρ αὗται σωμάτων εἰσὶ καὶ σχημάτων εἰκόνες, καὶ παμπόλλην ἔχουσιν πρὸς τὰ ἀφ' ὧν ἐκπίπτουσιν συμπάθειαν, ὡς δηλοῖ καὶ ὅσα μάγων τέχναι πρός τε τὰ εἴδωλα δρᾶν ἐπαγγέλλονται καὶ τὰς σκιάς. καὶ τί λέγω τὰς ἐκείνων δυνάμεις; ἃ καὶ τοῖς ἀλόγοις ἤδη ζῴοις ὑπάρχει πρὸ λόγου παντὸς ἐνεργεῖν. ἡ γὰρ ὕαινα, φασί, τὴν τοῦ κυνὸς ἐν ὕψει καθημένου πατήσασα σκιὰν καταβάλλει καὶ θοίνην ποιεῖται τὸν κύνα· καὶ γυναικὸς καθαιρομένης, φησὶν Ἀριστοτέλης, εἰς ἔνοπτρον ἰδούσης αἱματοῦται τό τε ἔνοπτρον καὶ τὸ ἐμφαινόμενον εἴδωλον.

Proclus, In Platonis rem publicam commentaria 1.290

*I’ve talked about the magic of the hyena here.

Michael of Ephesus, Commentary on Aristotle’s On Dreams

“And so this is the general idea [of what Aristotle wrote], but in the passage, “for sight, too, is a bright object and one that has colour”, ‘sight’ means the whole eye. Also, he says that “it is reasonable” that the eyes change during the period of menstruation. For since the whole body changes at that time, necessarily the eyes also change. After talking about ‘the eyes’ in the neuter, he shifts and talks about them in the masculine, saying ‘for they [masculine] are naturally veiny’. For the eyes [masculine] are veiny. He also says that, as among menstruating women, a certain bloody affection is produced around the eyes, so too it happens to us during the emission of semen. This is not obvious when we look into a mirror because of the fact that semen is naturally white.

‘The bronze mirror, because of how smooth it is, is especially sensitive to any touch.’

“The phrase ‘is especially sensitive’ can be paraphrased as, ‘it makes stains on it that are especially sensible and obvious to us.’ For just as noises are produced especially on smooth bodies because of the fact that the air on them is not broken up or in general divided up into very fine parts, so too on smooth mirrors the blemish becomes obvious because of the fact that they are continuous and unitary, so to speak, because of the extreme smoothness of the mirror. But on those that are not smooth they are not observed, since they are divided up into very fine parts because of the unevenness of the reflecting surface, and what is very fine is not easily sensed. Therefore, the smoothness is the cause of continuity, while the cleanliness is productive of the clarity. For if it were clean but not smooth, then it will not produce sensation since it is broken up into small parts due to the unevenness. It is clear that, in the case of clean mirrors, stains become visible deep down. But that sensation that is quick also apprehends the images from the sensible object quickly, this is not clear.

‘Evidence for what we’ve described are facts about wines and perfumery.’

“Having said ‘that change is caused even by small differences,’ as proof of it he adds what happens in the case of perfumery: ‘For oil, when it has been prepared, quickly takes on the scents of things close by.’ For the scent of something close by, when it changes the oil, gives it a share of its own scent.”

Ἡ μὲν οὖν διάνοια αὕτη, ἐν δὲ τῇ λέξει τῇ «καὶ γὰρ ἡ ὄψις τῶν λαμπρῶν καὶ ἐχόντων χρῶμα» ὄψιν τὸν ὅλον ὀφθαλμὸν εἴρηκε. λέγει δὲ καὶ ὅτι εὐλόγως ἐν τῷ τῶν καταμηνίων καιρῷ τὰ ὄμματα μεταβάλλει· τοῦ γὰρ σώματος ὅλου τότε μεταβάλλοντος ἀνάγκη συμμεταβάλλειν καὶ τὰ ὄμματα. εἰπὼν δὲ τὰ «ὄμματα,» τρέψας εἶπε τὴν λέξιν ἀρρενικῶς εἰπών· «καὶ γὰρ φύσει τυγχάνουσι φλεβώδεις ὄντες·» οἱ γὰρ ὀφθαλμοὶ φλεβώδεις. λέγει δὲ καὶ ὅτι, ὥσπερ ἐπὶ τῶν γυναικῶν γινομένων τῶν καταμηνίων γίνεταί τι πάθος περὶ τὰ ὄμματα αἱματικόν, οὕτω γίνεται καὶ ἡμῖν ἐν τῇ τοῦ σπέρματος προέσει. οὐ φαίνεται δὲ ἐνορῶσιν εἰς τὸ κάτοπτρον διὰ τὸ τὸ σπέρμα φύσει λευκὸν εἶναι.

ὥσπερ δὲ τῶν ἱματίων, τὰ μάλιστα καθαρὰ τάχιστα κηλιδοῦται· τὸ γὰρ καθαρὸν ἀκριβῶς δηλοῖ ὅ τι ἂν δέξηται, καὶ τὸ μάλιστα τὰς ἐλαχίστας κινήσεις. ὁ δὲ χαλκὸς διὰ μὲν τὸ λεῖος εἶναι ὁποιασοῦν ἁφῆς αἰσθάνεται μάλιστα (δεῖ δὲ νοῆσαι οἷον τρίψιν οὖσαν τὴν τοῦ ἀέρος ἁφὴν καὶ ὥσπερ ἔκμαξιν καὶ ἀνάπλυσιν), διὰ δὲ τὸ καθαρὸν ἔνδηλος γίνεται ὁπηλικηοῦν οὖσα. τοῦ δὲ μὴ ἀπιέναι ταχέως ἐκ τῶν καινῶν κατόπτρων αἴτιον τὸ καθαρὸν εἶναι καὶ λεῖον· διαδύεται γὰρ διὰ τῶν τοιούτων καὶ εἰς βάθος καὶ πάντῃ, διὰ μὲν τὸ καθαρὸν εἰς βάθος, διὰ δὲ τὸ λεῖον πάντῃ. ἐν δὲ τοῖς παλαιοῖς οὐκ ἐμμένει, ὅτι οὐχ ὁμοίως εἰσδύεται ἡ κηλὶς ἀλλ' ἐπιπολαιότερον.

«Ὁ δὲ χαλκὸς διὰ τὸ λεῖος εἶναι ὁποιασοῦν ἁφῆς αἰσθάνεται μάλιστα.»

Τὸ «αἰσθάνεται μάλιστα» ἴσον ἐστὶ τῷ ‘αἰσθητὰς μάλιστα καὶ διαδήλους ἡμῖν ποιεῖ τὰς ἐν αὐτῷ κηλῖδας’. ὥσπερ γὰρ ἐν τοῖς λείοις σώμασι μάλιστα γίνεται ὁ ψόφος διὰ τὸ μὴ θραύεσθαι ἐν αὐτοῖς τὸν ἀέρα μηδ' ὅλως εἰς λεπτότατα κατακερματίζεσθαι, οὕτω καὶ ἐν τοῖς λείοις κατόπτροις αἱ κηλῖδες διάδηλοι γίνονται διὰ τὸ μένειν συνεχεῖς καὶ ὡς εἰπεῖν μία διὰ τὴν τοῦ κατόπτρου λειότητα. ἐν δὲ τοῖς μὴ λείοις οὐχ ὁρῶνται, ὅτι κατακερματίζονται εἰς λεπτότατα διὰ τὴν τοῦ ἐνόπτρου ἀνωμαλίαν· τὸ δὲ λεπτότατον οὐκ εὐαίσθητον. τὸ μὲν οὖν λεῖόν ἐστιν αἴτιον τῆς συνεχείας, τὸ δὲ καθαρὸν τοῦ διαδήλους γίνεσθαι. κἂν γὰρ ᾖ καθαρὸν μὴ λεῖον δέ, εἰς μικρὰ κατακερματισθὲν διὰ τὴν ἀνωμαλίαν οὐ ποιήσει αἴσθησιν. ὅτι δὲ ἐν τοῖς καθαροῖς ἐνόπτροις εἰς βάθος ἐμφαίνονται αἱ ἐν αὐτοῖς κηλῖδες, δῆλον. ὅτι δὲ καὶ ἡ αἴσθησις ταχεῖα καὶ ταχέως ἀντιλαμβάνεται τῶν ἀπὸ τῶν αἰσθητῶν εἰδώλων, οὐδὲ τοῦτο ἄδηλον.

«Μαρτυρεῖ δὲ τοῖς εἰρημένοις καὶ τὰ περὶ τοὺς οἴνους καὶ τὴν μυρεψίαν συμβαίνοντα.»

Εἰπὼν «ὅτι μὲν οὖν καὶ ὑπὸ τῶν μικρῶν διαφορῶν γίνεται κίνησις,» πίστιν τούτου παράγει τὰ περὶ τὴν μυρεψίαν γινόμενα. «τὸ γὰρ παρασκευασθὲν ἔλαιον ταχέως λαμβάνει τὰς τῶν πλησίον ὀσμάς·» ἡ γὰρ ὀσμὴ τοῦ πλησίον κινήσασα τὸ ἔλαιον μετέδωκεν αὐτῷ τῆς οἰκείας ὀσμῆς.

Michael of Ephesus In de insomniis commentaria, 66,4–67,9 Wendland

Marsilio Ficino, Commentary on Plato’s Symposium or On Love

“Aristotle writes that women, when they are menstruating, often make their mirror dirty with bloody specks when they look into it. I believe it happens for the following reason, because spirit [pneuma], which is the vapor of blood, appears to be blood so subtle that it escapes the eye’s observation, but when it condenses on the surface of the mirror, it becomes clearly visible. If it comes into contact with some less compact material, like a piece of cloth or wood, it cannot be seen because it does not remain on its surface, but penetrates into it. If it comes into contact with something dense but rough, like stones, bricks and the like, it is dissipated and broken up by the unevenness of its body. But on account of its hardness, the mirror keeps the spirit on the surface, on account of its evenness and smoothness, it prevents it from breaking up, and on account of its coolness, it condenses the extremely fine mist of the spirit into droplets. For the same reason, whenever we open our both and breath forcefully on glass, we sprinkle its surface with very fine saliva like dew. This is because the breath expelled from the saliva, when condensed on this material, returns to being saliva.”

Scribit Aristoteles, mulieres quando sanguis menstruus defluit, intuitu suo speculum sanguineis guttis sepe fedare. Quod ex eo fieri arbitror quia spiritus, qui vapor sanguinis est, sanguis quidam tenuissimus videtur esse, adeo ut aspectum effugiat oculorum, sed in speculi superficie factus crassior clare perspicitur. Hic si in rariorem materiam aliquam, ceu pannum aut lignum incidat, ideo non videtur quia in superficie rei illius non restat, sed penetrat. Si in densam quidem, sed asperam, sicuti saxa, lateres et similia, corporis illius inequalitate dissipatur et frangitur. Speculum autem propter duritiem sistit in superficie spiritum ; propter equalitatem lenitatemque servat infractum ; propter nitorem, spiritus ipsius radium iuvat et auget ; propter frigiditatem, rarissimam illius nebulam cogit in guttulas. Eadem ferme ratione quotiens hiantibus faucibus obnixe hanelamus in vitrum, eius faciem tenuissimo quodam salive rore conspergimus. Siquidem alitus a saliva evolans in ea materia compressus relabitur in salivam.

Marsilio Ficino, De amore: Commentarium in Convivium Platonis 7.4

Aristotle's Lost Book On Magic

Here are all of V. Rose's testimonia of a work attributed to Aristotle called Magic (ὁ Μαγικός λόγος, or τὸ μαγικόν?). The title either refers to the art practised by the Magi (the Zoroastrian priests from Persia), or it refers to the fact that the discussion is a discussion about the Magi. The latter seems more likely, even though the first passage, from Diogenes Laertius, suggests the discussion mentioned all sorts of wisdom cults.

The attribution is disputed. Diogenes Laertius says it is by Aristotle, but doesn't put it in his list of Aristotle's works (it doesn't show up in any other list I've looked at in either Greek or Arabic). The Suda says it is by Antisthenes, and that some people attributed it to Aristotle or someone named Rhodon. It's not clear where the Suda is getting this from.

While we don't know who wrote it, its contents are hinted at by the testimonies gathered in Rose (+ a few others I've put together). Diogenes reports that Aristotle thought magic wasn't sorcery, but philosophy or wisdom. This is confirmed by the Suda. It has something to do with prognostication. Eudoxus, according to Pliny, believed it was useful and very valuable, and so it was not only practical but connected to more valuable objects of study, probably the heavenly bodies. This is especially supported by the etymology of Zoroaster ('star-diviner') reported by Diogenes, and Porphyry's etymology of 'magus' as 'wise in divine matters'. Philo specifies that it was a kind of 'optics' and a very precise branch of natural science. Finally, Philo, Porphyry and the Suda associate it with both wisdom and with kingship. Philo says not only private citizens practice magic, but that Persian kings themselves had to be educated as Magi to become king.

It seems to me as if all these testimonies could be referring to a discussion of wise philosopher kings who are able to predict the future through their understanding of the heavens and the science of nature.

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"Some say the work of philosophy originated with the barbarians. For among the Persians are the Magi, among the Babylonians and Assyrians the Chaldeans, among the Indians the Gymnosophists (lit. naked philosophers), and among the Celts and Gauls, those called 'Druids' and holy people, according to what Aristotle says in the book on Magic and Sotion in the twenty-third book of the Succession of Philosophers."

Τὸ τῆς φιλοσοφίας ἔργον ἔνιοί φασιν ἀπὸ βαρβάρων ἄρξαι. γεγενῆσθαι γὰρ παρὰ μὲν Πέρσαις μάγους, παρὰ δὲ Βαβυλωνίοις ἢ Ἀσσυρίοις Χαλδαίους, καὶ γυμνοσοφιστὰς παρ' Ἰνδοῖς, παρά τε Κελτοῖς καὶ Γαλάταις τοὺς καλουμένους δρυίδας καὶ σεμνοθέους, καθά φησιν Ἀριστοτέλης ἐν τῷ μαγικῷ καὶ Σωτίων ἐν εἰκοστῷ τρίτῳ τῆς διαδοχῆς.

Diogenes Laertius, Lives of the Eminent Philosophers, 1.1

"The Magi were ignorant of sorcerers' magic, says Aristotle in the book on Magic and Dinon in the fifth book of his Histories. He also says 'Zoroaster' when translated literally means 'star-diviner'; Hermodorus says this as well. In the first book of On Philosophy, Aristotle says they (the Magi) are actually older than the Egyptians. And according to them there are two principles, a good daimon and a bad daimon: to the former, the name is Zeus and 'Oromasdes' [i.e., Ahura Mazda], to the other Hades and 'Arimanius' [i.e., Ahriman]. Hermippus says this too in the first book On Magi, so does Eudoxus in the Survey, and Theopompus in the eighth book of the Philippics."

Τὴν δὲ γοητικὴν μαγείαν [sc. οἱ Μάγοι] οὐδ' ἔγνωσαν, φησὶν Ἀριστοτέλης ἐν τῷ Μαγικῷ καὶ Δείνων ἐν τῇ πέμπτῃ τῶν Ἱστοριῶν· ὃς καὶ μεθερμηνευόμενόν φησι τὸν Ζωροάστρην ἀστροθύτην εἶναι· φησὶ δὲ τοῦτο καὶ ὁ Ἑρμόδωρος. Ἀριστοτέλης δ' ἐν πρώτῳ Περὶ φιλοσοφίας καὶ πρεσβυτέρους εἶναι τῶν Αἰγυπτίων· καὶ δύο κατ' αὐτοὺς εἶναι ἀρχάς, ἀγαθὸν δαίμονα καὶ κακὸν δαίμονα· καὶ τῷ μὲν ὄνομα εἶναι Ζεὺς καὶ Ὠρομάσδης, τῷ δὲ Ἅιδης καὶ Ἀρειμάνιος. φησὶ δὲ τοῦτο καὶ Ἕρμιππος ἐν τῷ πρώτῳ Περὶ μάγων καὶ Εὔδοξος ἐν τῇ Περιόδῳ καὶ Θεόπομπος ἐν τῇ ὀγδόῃ τῶν Φιλιππικῶν.

Diogenes Laertius, Lives of the Eminent Philosophers, 1.7-8

"Aristotle says that a certain magus [magician or priest from Persia] came from Syria to Athens and among the other things he predicted about Socrates, was that he will have a violent end."

φησὶ δ' Ἀριστοτέλης μάγον τινὰ ἐλθόντα ἐκ Συρίας εἰς Ἀθήνας τά τε ἄλλα καταγνῶναι τοῦ Σωκράτους καὶ δὴ καὶ βίαιον ἔσεσθαι τὴν τελευτὴν αὐτῷ.

Diogenes Laertius, Lives of the Eminent Philosophers, 2.45

"Eudoxus, who wanted it to be known that among the schools of philosophy, magic is the most illustrious and most useful, relates that this 'Zoroaster' lived six thousand years before Plato's death. Aristotle says this too."

Eudoxus qui inter sapientiae sectas clarissimam utilissimamque eam (magicam) intellegi voluit, Zoroastren hunc sex milibus annorum ante Platonis mortem fuisse prodidit. sic et Aristoteles.

Pliny, Natural History, 30.3

"Antisthenes, an Athenian, Socratic philosopher from among the orators, who first was called a Peripatetic, then 'played the dog' (i.e., acted like someone from what would later be called the 'Cynic' school). He was the son of a father with the same name, and his mother came from the people of Thrace. He wrote these ten volumes: first, Magic: it tells about a certain magus, Zoroaster, who discovered wisdom. Some people attribute this to Aristotle, others to Rhodon."

Ἀντισθένης, Ἀθηναῖος, ἀπὸ ῥητόρων φιλόσοφος Σωκρατικός, ὅστις Περιπατητικὸς ἐκλήθη πρῶτον, εἶτα ἐκύνισεν: υἱὸς δὲ ὢν ὁμωνύμου πατρὸς, μητρὸς δὲ τὸ γένος Θρᾴσσης. οὗτος συνέγραψε τόμους δέκα: πρῶτον μαγικόν: ἀφηγεῖται δὲ περὶ Ζωροάστρου τινὸς μάγου, εὑρόντος τὴν σοφίαν: τοῦτο δέ τινες Ἀριστοτέλει, οἱ δὲ Ῥόδωνι ἀνατιθέασιν.

Suda, s.v. Ἀντισθένης

"Execestus, the Phocian tyrant, used to wear two enchanted rings, and he used to determine the appropriate time to act by the sound they made against one another. But, he still died, murdered by treachery despite being warned by the sound, as Aristotle says in the Phocian Constitution."

Ἐξήκεστός τε ὁ Φωκαιέων τύραννος δύο δακτυλίους φορῶν γεγοητευμένους τῷ ψόφῳ τῷ πρὸς ἀλλήλους διῃσθάνετο τοὺς καιροὺς τῶν πράξεων, ἀπέθανεν δὲ ὅμως δολοφονηθεὶς καίτοι προσημήναντος τοῦ ψόφου, ὥς φησιν Ἀριστοτέλης ἐν τῇ Φωκαιέων πολιτείᾳ.

Clement of Alexandria, Stromateus I, chapter 21

"The true art of magic, which is a science of optics by which the works of nature are illuminated with a brighter appearance and is thought to be holy and highly prized, is not only practiced by private citizens, but also by kings and of kings the greatest, and most of all the Persian kings, to the extent that they say no one among them is able to be a successor to the kingship if he does not happen to share in the house of the Magi."

τὴν μὲν οὖν ἀληθῆ μαγικήν, ὀπτικὴν ἐπιστήμην οὖσαν, ᾗ τὰ τῆς φύσεως ἔργα τρανοτέραις φαντασίαις αὐγάζεται, σεμνὴν καὶ περιμάχητον δοκοῦσαν εἶναι, οὐκ ἰδιῶται μόνον ἀλλὰ καὶ βασιλεῖς καὶ βασιλέων οἱ μέγιστοι καὶ μάλιστα οἱ Περσῶν διαπονοῦσιν οὕτως, ὥστ' οὐδένα φασὶν ἐπὶ βασιλείαν δύνασθαι παραπεμφθῆναι παρ' αὐτοῖς, εἰ μὴ πρότερον τοῦ μάγων γένους κεκοινωνηκὼς τυγχάνοι.

Philo of Judaea, On Special Laws, 3.100

"Among the Persians, those who are wise in divine matters and worship it are called 'Magi'. This is just what 'Magus' means in the regional language. This house is considered to be so great and so holy by the Persians, that even Darius, son of Hystaspes, had engraved on his tombstone (among other things) that he was a teacher of magic arts."

παρά γε μὴν τοῖς Πέρσαις οἱ περὶ τὸ θεῖον σοφοὶ καὶ τούτου θεράποντες μάγοι μὲν προσαγορεύονται· τοῦτο γὰρ δηλοῖ κατὰ τὴν ἐπιχώριον διάλεκτον ὁ μάγος· οὕτω δὲ μέγα καὶ σεβάσμιον γένος τοῦτο παρὰ Πέρσαις νενόμισται, ὥστε καὶ Δαρεῖον τὸν Ὑστάσπου ἐπιγράψαι τῷ μνήματι πρὸς τοῖς ἄλλοις ὅτι καὶ μαγικῶν γένοιτο διδάσκαλος.

Porphyry, On Abstinence from Animal Food, 4.16

"Don't make drugs. Stay away from magic books."

Φάρμακα μὴ τεύχειν, μαγικῶν βίβλων ἀπέχεσθαι.

Pseudo-Phocylides, Sententiae, l.149

Illustration of (a somewhat Christian?) Zoroaster riding the back of a dragon. Zoroaster was associated with the arts of magic and astrology already in antiquity. This illustration is from the Clavis Artis, vol. 1, the Biblioteca dell’Accademia Nazionale dei Lincei, Roma. On the manuscript and its provenance, see the Italian wiki. Image source here.

Animal Magic

Here are some magical animals from Aelian, Pliny and Pseudo Aristotle. I'm trying to track down animals that use magic, rather than animals (or parts) that are used for magic (like the 'hippomane') or animals that people perform magic on (like snake charmers, etc.). The question I'm interested in is whether anyone in antiquity thought we learned any of the magic arts by observing animals, as they thought we learned many of the more mundane ones. Hyena is the closest thing to an animal magician I've found so far.

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"The salamander is not an animal born from fire, like the animals called 'fire-born'. Still, it is bold and fond of staying close to the flame, and it is eager to defeat it as if it were an adversary."

Ἡ σαλαμάνδρα τὸ ζῷον οὐκ ἔστι μὲν τῶν πυρὸς ἐκγόνων, ὥσπερ οὖν οἱ καλούμενοι πυρίγονοι, θαρρεῖ δὲ αὐτὸ καὶ χωρεῖ τῇ φλογὶ ὁμόσε, καὶ ὡς ἀντίπαλόν τινα σπεύδει καταγωνίσασθαι.

Aelian, On the Nature of Animals, 2.31

"They say that in Arabia there is a kind of hyena which, when it first catches sight of some wild animal, or when it steps on a person's shadow,  renders it speechless and fixed in such a way that it cannot move its body. It also does this to dogs."

Ἐν δὲ τῇ Ἀραβίᾳ ὑαινῶν τι γένος φασὶν εἶναι, ὃ ἐπειδὰν προΐδῃ τι θηρίον ἢ ἀνθρώπου ἐπιβῇ ἐπὶ τὴν σκιάν, ἀφωνίαν ἐργάζεται καὶ πῆξιν τοιαύτην ὥστε μὴ δύνασθαι κινεῖν τὸ σῶμα. τοῦτο δὲ ποιεῖν καὶ ἐπὶ τῶν κυνῶν.

Pseudo-Aristotle, On Marvellous Things Heard, chapter 145

"If a dog makes contact with the hyena's shadow, it will go silent. And by some magic art, any animal it encircles three times becomes fixed at that spot."

praeterea umbrae eius [sc. hyaenae] contactu canes obmutescere, et quibusdam magicis artibus omne animal, quod ter lustraverit, in vestigio haerere.

Pliny, Natural History, 8.44

"When the moon is full, the hyena will keep the light behind it, and cast its shadow onto dogs. Instantly, they are silenced. Having bewitched them like sorceresses do, it then carries off the silent dogs and makes use of them in whatever way it wants."

ὅταν ᾖ πλήρης ὁ τῆς σελήνης κύκλος, κατόπιν λαμβάνει [sc. ἡ ὕαινα] τὴν αὐγήν, καὶ τὴν αὑτῆς σκιὰν ἐπιβάλλει τοῖς κυσί, καὶ παραχρῆμα αὐτοὺς κατεσίγασε, καὶ καταγοητεύσασα ὡς αἱ φαρμακίδες εἶτα ἀπάγει σιωπῶντας, καὶ κέχρηται ὅ τι καὶ βούλεται τὸ ἐντεῦθεν αὐτοῖς.

Aelian, On the Nature of Animals, 6.14

"Dogs, cows, pigs, goats, snakes and other animals are perceptive of future famine. And they are first to be aware when a plague or earthquake is approaching. They can forsee times of healthy weather and fertile crops. And even though they do not have reason, which is able both to save and to destroy, they do not make mistakes in the matters just mentioned."

Λιμοῦ μέλλοντος ἐπιδημεῖν αἰσθητικῶς ἔχουσι κύνες καὶ βόες καὶ ὗς καὶ αἶγες καὶ ὄφεις καὶ ζῷα ἄλλα, καὶ λοιμοῦ δὲ ἀφιξομένου συνίησι πρώτστα καὶ σεισμοῦ. προγινώσκει δὲ καὶ ὑγίειαν ἀέρων καὶ εὐφορίαν καρπῶν. καὶ λόγου μὲν οὐ μετείληχε τοῦ καὶ σώζειν καὶ ἀποκτείνειν δυναμένου, τῶν γε μὴν προειρημένων οὐ διαμαρτάνει.

Aelian, On the Nature of Animals, 6.16

"By name, it is 'Hunter', by nature, a bird, a member of the Thrush family, black in colour, musical in voice. It has been called hunter and for good reason. For it catches the other birds with its song, the small ones that fly to it when enchanted by its music."

Ἀγρεὺς τὸ ὄνομα, τὴν φύσιν πτηνός, τὸ γένος κοσσύφων φράτωρ, μέλας τὴν χρόαν, μουσικὸς τὴν γλῶτταν. κέκληται δὲ ἀγρεύς, καὶ δικαίως· τῷ γάρ τοι μέλει τῶν ἄλλων ὀρνέων αἱρεῖ τὰ ἁπαλὰ προσπετόμενα τῇ τῆς εὐμουσίας θέλξει.

Aelian, On the Nature of Animals, 8.24

Postscript:

"I hear that in India, the elephant and the dragon are each other's worst enemies."

Ἐν Ἰνδοῖς, ὡς ἀκούω, ἐλέφας καὶ δράκων ἐστὶν ἔχθιστα.

Aelian, On the Nature of Animals, 6.21

Plum, crimson, vermilion, scarlet

Theophrastus, History of Plants, 3.6.4

"Some people deny that wild kinds of trees have deep roots because of the fact that they all grow from seed. Their claim is not quite correct, since it is possible for the trees to send down deep roots once they've become established. Even most vegetables do this, although they are weaker and clearly germinate in the ground. The kermes oak seems to be the most deep-rooted of the wild trees, while fir and pine are moderately so, and shallowest are the joint fir, the plum tree, and the bullace (this one is like a wild plum)."

Βαθύρριζα δὲ οὔ φασί τινες εἶναι τὰ ἄγρια διὰ τὸ φύεσθαι πάντα ἀπὸ σπέρματος, οὐκ ἄγαν ὀρθῶς λέγοντες. ἐνδέχεται γὰρ ὅταν ἐμβιώσῃ πόρρω καθιέναι τὰς ῥίζας· ἐπεὶ καὶ τῶν λαχάνων τὰ πολλὰ τοῦτο ποιεῖ, καίπερ ἀσθενέστερα ὄντα καὶ ἐναργῶς φυόμενα <ἐν> τῇ γῇ. Βαθυρριζότατον δ' οὖν δοκεῖ τῶν ἀγρίων εἶναι ἡ πρῖνος· ἐλάτη δὲ καὶ πεύκη μετρίως, ἐπιπολαιότατον δὲ θραύπαλος καὶ κοκκυμηλέα καὶ σποδιάς· αὕτη δ' ἐστὶν ὥσπερ ἀγρία κοκκυμηλέα.*

*κοκκυμηλέα plum tree. κοκκύμηλον plum.  The word κόκκος originally meant grain or seed, but came to pick out the colour we call “scarlet”, “crimson” or “kermes” — all these words are closely related historically. Here’s the story. There is species of scale insect that lives only on the sap of a tree called the kermes or scarlet oak, the deep-rooted πρῖνος Theophrastus mentions above. As these insects feed, they gather in clumps on the oaks and look like red grains or seeds.  In antiquity, these apparent grains were confused with galls (cf. Dioscorides 4.48, Pliny 22.3), another common source of dyes (like oak gall, the major ingredient in medieval inks). The grains (i.e., the insects) were collected, ground up and treated with various solvents (vinegar according to Dioscorides) in order to extract the red dye from their shells. This preparation was used for all sorts of textiles, but it is most notable for dyeing what we call “scarlet”, a name that originally applied to a specific kind of woolen cloth. At some point, the name used for the grain that was used in the dye (κόκκος) came to be used for the colour of the dye itself, hence κόκκος: “a brilliant red hue”. Some of the most common names that we use for vibrant red hues are connected to this dye. The colour vermilion is named for the “little worms” (vermeillons), i.e., the insects, that live on the kermes oak. Scarlet, the colour, gets its name from scarlet, the cloth dyed with the insects. And crimson comes from kermes, a medieval spelling of the Arabic word qirmiz (قِرْمِز ), whose roots reach back to Persian and Sanskrit, krmi-ja, which means “produced by a worm.” The fruit of the plum tree, with its brilliant red skin, might be etymologized as “the scarlet apple”; but, then again, I usually think of plums as purple. I've also seen the name derived from cuckoo (κόκκυξ +  μήλον), cf. Nicander ap. Athenaeus of Naucratis, Deipnosophistae 2.33: “μῆλον ὃ κόκκυγος καλέουσι (a melon which they name after cuckoos)”— maybe because the fruit, like the cuckoo, is related to springtime? Medical note: The kermes dye used to be part of a very popular pre-twentieth century cardiac remedy, or cordial (maybe because of its bright red colour?): the confectio alchermes.

Dioscorides, De materia medica 1.121

"The plum is a well-known tree, whose fruit is edible, bad for the stomach, and able to relax the belly. When the fruit of Syrian plums is dried, especially those grown in Damascus, it is good for the stomach and compacts the belly. A decoction of the leaves prepared in wine and then gargled restrains secretions from the uvula, gums and tonsils. When dried, the ripened fruit of the wild plum brings about the same thing, and when boiled with must, it becomes better for the stomach and able to restrain the belly more. The gum from the plum tree is glutinous, able to break apart kidney stones when drunk with wine, and used as an ointment with vinegar it heals lichen that appears on children."

κοκκυμηλέα δένδρον ἐστὶ γνώριμον, οὗ ὁ καρπὸς ἐδώδιμος, κακοστόμαχος, κοιλίας μαλακτικός· τῶν δὲ Συριακῶν καὶ μάλιστα τῶν ἐν Δαμασκῷ γεννωμένων ὁ καρπὸς ξηρανθεὶς εὐστόμαχος καὶ κοιλίας σταλτικός. τὸ δὲ ἀφέψημα τῶν φύλλων ἐν οἴνῳ σκευαζόμενον καὶ ἀναγαργαριζόμενον κιονίδα καὶ οὖλα καὶ παρίσθμια ῥευματιζόμενα στέλλει. τὰ δὲ αὐτὰ παρέχει καὶ ὁ τῶν ἀγρίων κοκκυμηλέων καρπὸς πέπειρος ξηρανθείς, ἑψηθεὶς δὲ μετὰ ἑψήματος εὐστομαχώτερος καὶ σταλτικώτερος κοιλίας γίνεται. τὸ δὲ κόμμι τῆς κοκκυμηλέας ἐστὶ κολλητικόν, λίθων θρυπτικὸν πινόμενον σὺν οἴνῳ, σὺν ὄξει δὲ ἐπιχριόμενον λειχῆνας τοὺς ἐπὶ παιδίων θεραπεύει.

p. 111,14-112,6 Wellmann

Pliny the Elder, Natural History, 23.66-69

"The boiled leaves of the plum are good for the tonsils, gums and uvula, washing the mouth with it now and then. The plum itself relaxes the belly, and is not very good for the stomach, but it only lasts a short time. Peaches and their juice are better, also when squeezed into wine or vinegar. No other food is less harmful than this fruit. In nothing is there less of an odour and more juice (which nevertheless stimulates thirst). Its leaves stop haemorrhage when ground and applied. Peach pits with olive oil and vinegar are applied for headache. As for wild plums, however, the fruit or skin of the root, if decocted in dry wine to a third of a hemina, restrains the belly and intestinal pain. One cyathos of the decoction at a time is enough. And growing upon this tree and the cultivated plum tree, there is a tree resin*, which the Greeks call lichen, wonderfully useful for fistulae and hemorrhoids."

*This is wonderful. Pliny or his source has misread Dioscorides, thinking the gum of the plum itself is called lichen, rather than the disease which affects children.

/66 Pruni folia in vino decocta tonsillis, gingivis, uvae prosunt, subinde colluto ore. ipsa pruna alvum molliunt, stomacho non utilissima, sed brevi momento. /67 Utiliora persica sucusque eorum, etiam in vino aut in aceto expressus. neque alius eis pomis innocentior cibis; nusquam minus odoris, suci plus, qui tamen sitim stimulet . . . . . folia eius trita inlita haemorrhagian sistunt. nuclei persicorum cum oleo et aceto capitis doloribus inlinuntur. /68 Silvestrium quidem prunorum bacae, vel e radice cortex, in vino austero si decoquantur ita, ut triens ex hemina supersit, alvum sistunt et tormina. satis est singulos cyathos decocti sumi.  /69 Et in his et sativis prunis est limus arborum, quem Graeci lichena appellant, rhagadis et condylomatis mire utilis.

Galen, On Simple Drugs, 7.35, XII 32-3 Kühn

"The fruit of the plum tree has a laxative effect, and more so when it is fresh, less when dry. For some reason, Dioscorides says dried plums from Damascus support the belly. Clearly, they are laxative, but less than those from Iberia. The ones from Damascus are more astringent, while those from Iberia are sweeter, and the trees as well are like the fruits. Those in Iberia are less astringent, those in Damascus more. To speak generally about them, there is some clear astringency present in the leaves and buds, when these are boiled down in water, they make a mouthwash for inflammation of the uvula and tonsils. The fruit of wild plum trees is obviously astringent and compacts the belly. This plant is called proumnon in Asia. Some say the gum of the tree is able to break up kidney stones when drunk with wine, but with vinegar cures children's lichen. If it does this, then it is clear that it has a capacity to be dissolving an diffusive."

Κοκκυμηλέας ὁ καρπὸς ὑπάγει γαστέρα, καὶ πρόσφατος μὲν ὑπάρχων μᾶλλον, ξηρανθεὶς δ' ἧττον. Διοσκουρίδης δ' οὐκ οἶδ' ὅπως τὰ Δαμασκηνὰ κοκκύμηλα ξηρανθέντα φησὶν ὑπέχειν γαστέρα. ὑπάγει μὲν γὰρ καὶ ταῦτα σαφῶς, ἀλλ' ἧττον τῶν ἐκ τῆς Ἰβηρίας. ἔστι δὲ τὰ μὲν Δαμασκηνὰ στυπτικώτερα, τὰ δ' ἐκ τῆς Ἰβηρίας γλυκύτερα, καὶ δὴ καὶ τὰ δένδρα τοῖς καρποῖς ἀνάλογον. ἧττον μὲν στυπτικὰ τὰ κατὰ τὴν Ἰβηρίαν, μᾶλλον δὲ τὰ κατὰ τὴν Δαμασκόν. ἁπλῶς δ' εἰπεῖν ὧν ἐν τοῖς φύλλοις ἢ τοῖς βλαστοῖς ἐμφαίνεταί τις στύψις σαφὴς, ταῦτα ἀφεψόμενα διάκλυσμα γίγνεται τῶν περὶ γαργαρεῶνα καὶ παρίσθμια φλεγμονῶν. ὁ δὲ τῶν ἀγρίων καρπὸς στυπτικὸς ἐναργῶς ἐστι καὶ σταλτικὸς γαστρός. ὀνομάζεται δὲ τὸ φυτὸν τοῦτο κατὰ τὴν Ἀσίαν προῦμνον. τὸ δὲ κόμμι τοῦ δένδρου φασὶν ἔνιοι μετ' οἴνου πινόμενον λίθων εἶναι θρυπτικὸν, σὺν ὄξει δὲ λειχῆνας ἰᾶσθαι παίδων, καὶ εἴπερ αὐτὸ ποιεῖ, δῆλον ὡς τμητικῆς τε καὶ λεπτομεροῦς μετέχει δυνάμεως.

Athenaeus, Deipnosophistae, 2.33

"Clearchus the Peripatetic and Theocritus from Syracuse say that people from Rhodes and Sicily call the plum, 'brabyla.' "

Κλέαρχος δ' ὁ περιπατητικός φησι  Ῥοδίους καὶ Σικελιώτας βράβυλα καλεῖν τὰ κοκκύμηλα, ὡς καὶ Θεόκριτος ὁ Συρακούσιος.

Aetius of Amida, Medical Books I 209

"The fruit of the plum tree. It has more of a laxative effect when fresh, less when dry. Plums from Damascus are more astringent. Those from Iberia are sweeter, and for this reason, more laxative.  There is some clear astringency present in the leaves, which is why when they are boiled in water they make a mouthwash for inflammations of the uvula and tonsils."

Κοκκυμηλέας ὁ καρπός. Ὑπάγει τὴν γαστέρα πρόσφατος μὲν ὑπάρχων μᾶλλον, ξηρανθεὶς δὲ ἧττον· ἐστὶ δὲ τὰ μὲν δαμασκηνὰ κοκκύμηλα στυπτικώτερα. τὰ δὲ ἐκ τῆς Ἰβηρίας γλυκύτερα, καὶ διὰ τοῦτο ὑπακτικώτερα, ἐν δὲ τοῖς φύλλοις ἐμφαίνεταί τις στύψις σαφής, ὅθεν ἑψόμενα διάκλυσμα γίνεται τῶν περὶ γαργαρεῶνα καὶ παρίσθμια φλεγμονῶν.

p. 91,3-8 Olivieri

Paul of Aegina, Epitome of Medicine, 7.3.10

"The fruit of the plum tree opens the belly more when fresh, less when dried. A decoction of it cures inflammation of the uvula when used as a mouthwash. The gum of the tree has a dissolving and diffusive power, which some say is able to break-up kidney stones when drunk with wine, while with vinegar cures children's lichen. The fruit of wild plums are clearly astringent and able to compact the belly. The plant is called 'proumnon' in Asia. Dioscorides seems to say that the domesticated plum, when dried, is what is now called the Damascene."

Κοκκυμηλέας ὁ καρπὸς ὑπάγει γαστέρα πρόσφατος μὲν μᾶλλον, ξηρανθεὶς δὲ ἧττον. τὸ δὲ ἀφέψημα αὐτοῦ τὰς κατὰ γαργαρεῶνα φλεγμονὰς ἰᾶται διακλυζόμενον. τὸ δὲ κόμμι τοῦ δένδρου τμητικῆς τε καὶ λεπτομεροῦς δυνάμεως, ὅ φασιν ἔνιοι μετ' οἴνου πινόμενον λίθων εἶναι θρυπτικόν, σὺν ὄξει δὲ λειχῆνας ἰᾶσθαι παίδων. ὁ δὲ τῶν ἀγρίων κοκκυμήλων καρπὸς στυπτικὸς ἐναργῶς ἐστι καὶ σταλτικὸς γαστρός· ὀνομάζεται δὲ τὸ φυτὸν τοῦτο κατὰ τὴν Ἀσίαν προῦμνον. ἔοικε δὲ τὰ ἥμερα ξηρανθέντα κοκκύμηλα τὰ νῦν Δαμασκηνὰ προσαγορευόμενα λέγειν ὁ Διοσκουρίδης.

p. 227,5-13 Heiberg

Alexis ap. Athenaeus of Naucratis, Deipnosophistae, 2.33

A: I think I had a dream that showed me I would win!

B: Tell it to me.

A: Pay close attention, now. I was in the rivals' stadium, when someone appeared to place a garland on me, someone who came at me naked … with a braided wreath of plums.

B: By Heracles!

A: καὶ μὴν ἐνύπνιον οἴομαί γ' ἑορακέναι νικητικόν.

B: λέγ' αὐτό.

A: τὸν νοῦν πρόσεχε δή. ἐν τῷ σταδίῳ τῶν ἀνταγωνιστῶν μέ τις ἐδόκει στεφανοῦν γυμνὸς προσελθὼν … στεφάνῳ κυλιστῷ κοκκυμήλων.

B:  Ἡράκλεις.

Invasive species

I

We like to tell stories about how things get their names, perhaps because we imagine names will give us insight into something’s essence. We also don’t always agree on what names mean, and so sometimes we tell different stories.

Take the avocado. The avocado’s botanical name, Persea americana Mill., comes from another tree, the Persea, that grew in ancient Egypt. The name was chosen by the English botanist Philip Miller (1691–1771), whose great achievement was to name many of the New World’s plants without ever having left Europe. Miller must have noticed some resemblance between descriptions of the old-world Persea and the new-world avocado, although what it was is unclear. I doubt he ever saw an ancient Egyptian Persea, and although he writes as if he tried to grow avocados, I can’t tell if he was ever successful. Whatever had inspired him, Miller left no record. The story is lost. 

The story I am interested in, however, is not about the avocado, but about the plant it was named after: the Persea. How did a tree from Egypt end up with a name that sounds like it came from another country, from Persia?

This is a story people were already interested in telling two-thousand years ago. Galen alludes to it in the middle of a long argument against Aristotle and Athenaeus of Attalia and he says just enough to make one curious.

“[Aristotle and Athenaeus] say that children who are similar to their mothers are made similar by the nutriment [i.e., the nutriment the mother provides to the fetus]. From there they extend a long string of arguments showing just how many alterations in animals and plants are produced by nutriment. Then, they fail to notice they are unable to prove any of the alterations they mention [involves] a change in its species [brought about by the nutriment]. For to begin with, when the Persea plant was transplanted to Egypt, its species did not change; instead, when it got useful nutriment, its fruit became edible, when it hadn't been edible before. ”

τὰ δ’ ὁμοιούμενα παιδία τῇ μητρὶ διxὰ τὴν τροφὴν ὁμοιοῦσθαί φασιν· κᾄπειτα ἐντεῦθεν ἀποτείνουσι δολιχὸν τοῦ λόγου δεικνύντες, ὅσαι διὰ τροφῆς ἀλλοιώσεις ἐγίγνοντο καὶ ζώοις καὶ φυτοῖς. εἶτ’ οὐκ αἰσθάνονται μηδεμίαν ὧν λέγουσιν ἀλλοιώσεων ἐπιδεῖξαι δυνάμενοι τὸ εἶδος ἐξαλλάττουσαν. αὐτίκα γὰρ <οὔτε> τὸ Περσαῖον φυτὸν εἰς Αἴγυπτον μετακομισθὲν ἐξηλλάγη τὴν ἰδέαν, ἀλλὰ χρηστῆς ἐπιλαβόμενον τροφῆς τὸν καρπὸν ἐδώδιμον ἔσχεν, οὐκ ὂν πρότερον τοιοῦτο.

Galen, De semine 2.1.40–42 (IV.603 K. = CMG V 3,1 154,9–15 De Lacy)

Galen must have some story in mind about how the Persea got to Egypt, but what is the story? Who was his source? I could not find anything like it in Aristotle’s works, so I kept searching to see if the source might have been Athenaeus, the other target of Galen’s attack.

I found a lead in an anonymous ancient paradoxographer. The paradoxographer reports a story attributed to someone named Athenaeus*—a tall-tale of botanical etymology and biological warfare gone wrong. It goes like this:

“Athenaeus says that among the Persians there was a certain tree which bore fatally poisonous fruit. The Persians, when Kambyses waged war against Egypt, imported it to Egypt and planted it in many places so that the Egyptians would be killed when they ate the fruit. Since, however, the soil the tree was in had changed, the fruit it produced became harmless, and it came to be called Persaea because it had been planted by Persians.”

Ἀθήναιός φησιν ἐν Πέρσαις εἶναι δένδρον τι θανάσιμον τὸν καρπὸν φέρον, ὃ τοὺς πέρσας, ὅτε Καμβύσης ἐπ’ Αἴγυπτον ἐστράτευσε, κομίσαι εἰς Αἴγυπτον καὶ ἐν πολλοῖς φυτεῦσαι τόποις, ὅπως οἱ Αἰγύπτιοι τὸν καρπὸν προσφερόμενοι διαφθαρῶσι· τὸ δὲ δένδρον μεταβαλὸν τὴν γῆν ἀπαθῆ τὸν καρπὸν ἐξενεγκεῖν, καὶ περσαίαν τ’ ὀνομάζεσθαι διὰ τὸ ὑπὸ Περσῶν φυτευθῆναι.

Paradoxographus Palatinus, Admiranda 18 (Giannini ed. in Paradoxographorum Graecorum Reliquiae, Milan: Istituto Editoriale Italiano, 1965: 354–360.)

A little background. After the Cyrus the Great had conquered most of the Middle East, his son Kambyses II set out to conquer Egypt. Athenaeus says that on his campaign, he brought along a certain kind of tree from his homeland which he knew to be poisonous. If he planted them while marching through Egypt, the ideas seems to be that the Egyptians would naively eat the fruit, become poisoned, and die, making the land that much easier to conquer. Unfortunately for Kambyses, since the soil in Egypt was so much more fertile than it was in Persia, the fruit from the trees turned from evil to good and his plans were thwarted.

Even by ancient standards, this is a pretty fantastic way of trying to explain why a plant in Egypt is called Persian. Kambyses would have been playing the long game (how many years would it take for the plants to start fruiting?). Besides, why would the Egyptians keep eating it once they found out it was poisonous? For whatever reason, though, Athenaeus seems to have thought the story was plausible enough, since he uses it to support a claim he knew his audience would find implausible—that while mothers contribute only nutrition, and no seminal traits, to their offspring, nutrition can still determine enough of an offspring’s formal characteristics, even its species, to account for why a child will look like its mother.

II

Athenaeus, however, was not the only one to tell this story. As I looked into it, the details started to become more complicated and more interesting. It turns out, it was generally agreed that there was some story about how the Persea got its name, but there was disagreement about the details. In fact, there seem to have been at least two different versions.

Here’s a version, reported by Diodorus of Sicily:

“There are many kinds of tree [in Egypt], and of them, what are called Persaea have fruit that stand out as being extremely sweet. The plant was introduced from Ethiopia by Persians during the time when Kambyses conquered the place.”

ἔστι δὲ καὶ δένδρων γένη πλείονα, καὶ τούτων αἱ μὲν ὀνομαζόμεναι περσαῖαι καρπὸν διάφορον ἔχουσι τῇ γλυκύτητι, μετενεχθέντος ἐξ Αἰθιοπίας ὑπὸ Περσῶν τοῦ φυτοῦ καθ’ ὃν καιρὸν Καμβύσης ἐκράτησεν ἐκείνων τῶν τόπων.

Diodorus Siculus, Bibliotheca historica 1.34.7 = Agatharchides of Cnidus (~200 BCE?)  Jacoby FGrH 2a 86 F, Fr. 19 ll. 89–92. (DNP claims he influenced Posidonius and cite fr. 86)

In the version Diodorus reports, the plant wasn’t brought with Kambyses from Persia. Instead, Kambyses and the Persians bring it to Egypt from Ethiopia. We don’t get an explanation why.

One story, therefore, explains the name by saying it was introduced from Persia, the other saying it was introduced from Ethiopia by Persians.

Looking into more sources, I found that both versions had made the rounds in antiquity, people knew it, but no one knew which story was true.

Some authors were confused enough that they simply told both tales. This was the strategy of an anonymous commentary on Nicander’s Theriac, who attributes one to a certain Sostratos, the other to Bolos the Democritean:

“The kranokolaptes are seen on Perseia, as Sostratos [says] in his book On Things that Sting and Bite. They say the Perseia, which they call Rhodakinea, was transplanted from Ethiopia to Egypt. But Bolos the Democritean says in his book On Sympathies and Antipathies that the Persians had a poisonous plant in their own country and planted it in Egypt, since they had wanted to conquer it for some time. Since [the land in Egypt] was good, [the plant] changed into its opposite and the plant made the sweetest fruit.”

ὁ κρανοκολάπτης ἐν ταῖς περσείας ὁρᾶται, ὡς Σώστρατος ἐν τῷ περὶ βλητῶν καὶ δακέτων.  τὴν δὲ περσείαν φασίν, ἣν ῥοδακινέαν καλοῦσιν, ἀπὸ Αἰθιοπίας εἰς Αἴγυπτον μεταφυτευθῆναι. Βῶλος δὲ ὁ Δημοκρίτειος ἐν τῷ περὶ συμπαθειῶν καὶ ἀντιπαθειῶν Πέρσας φησὶν ἔχοντας παρ’ ἑαυτοῖς θανάσιμον φυτὸν φυτεῦσαι ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ, ὡς πολλῶν μελλόντων ἀναιρηθήσεσθαι, τὴν δὲ ἀγαθὴν οὖσαν, εἰς τοὐναντίον μεταβαλεῖν ποιῆσαί τε τὸ φυτὸν καρπὸν γλυκύτατον

Scholia in Nicandrum Theriaca 764A (text above is from Crugnola’s 1971 text; link is to Bussemaker’s 1849 text, which is slightly different)

These details make things even weirder. The second story is familiar. But the first version: why would an Ethiopian plant transplanted to Egypt known as Persea also come to be called Rhodakinea? Did it make a stop in Rhodes? And how did it end up in Egypt? 

Then there are the deadly spiders, the kranokolaptes. Dioscorides also mentions them in his Materia medica:

“The Persaea is a tree which grows in Egypt. It bears edible fruit, it is good for the stomach, and on it are found the venomous spiders called kranokolaptes, especially in Thebes. The dried leaves when sprinkled as a fine powder are able to stop hemorrhage. Some report that this tree was poisonous in Persia, but that it changed when it was introduced to Egypt and became edible.”

περσαία δένδρον ἐστὶν ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ, καρπὸν φέρον ἐδώδιμον, εὐστόμαχον, ἐφ’ οὗ καὶ τὰ λεγόμενα κρανοκόλαπτα φαλάγγια εὑρίσκεται, μάλιστα δὲ ἐν τῇ Θηβαίδι. δύναμιν δὲ ἔχει τὰ φύλλα λεῖα ἐπιπαττόμενα ξηρὰ αἱμορραγίας ἱστᾶν. τοῦτο δὲ ἱστόρησάν τινες ἐν Περσίδι ἀναιρετικὸν εἶναι, μετατεθὲν δὲ εἰς Αἴγυπτον ἀλλοιωθῆναι καὶ ἐδώδιμον γενέσθαι.

Dioscorides, De Materia Medica 1.129 (120,12–18 Wellmann)

Dioscorides seems remarkably confident about the spiders (maybe they are nature’s way of restoring some kind of poison-health balance after the tree’s fruit became edible). Notice, however, his ambivalence about the origin story: on the one hand, he assigns it to people he is not even willing to name; on the other, he still mentions it, even though it adds very little that might be useful for identifying the plant or sorting out how to use it.

Galen, too, seems to share this ambivalence:

“Instead of the seed from the Chaste Tree, plaster the forehead with the fresh leaves of Persaea and an equal amount of myrrh with Egyptian perfume. I know the Persaea tree to exist only in Alexandria, at least not in any other of the Roman provinces. Some call it Persion and say in Persia the fruit of this tree is deadly, while in Egyptian countries it is harmless.”

ἢ ἄγνου σπέρμα, Περσαίας χλωρὰ φύλλα καὶ σμύρνης ἴσα σὺν μύρῳ Αἰγυπτίῳ κατάπλασσε τὸ μέτωπον. ἐν Ἀλεξανδρείᾳ μόνῃ τὸ τῆς Περσαίας δένδρον εἶδον, οὐ μὴν ἐν ἄλλῳ γέ τινι τῶν ὑπὸ Ῥωμαίοις ἐθνῶν. ἔνιοι δὲ Πέρσιον ὀνομάζουσιν αὐτὸ καί φασιν ἐν Πέρσαις ὀλέθριον εἶναι τὸν  καρπὸν τοῦ δένδρου τούτου. κατὰ δὲ τὴν τῶν Αἰγυπτίων χώραν ἀβλαβὲς ὑπάρχον.

Galen, De compositione medicamentorum secundum loco 2.2 (12.569–570 K)

I’m not sure why, unlike Dioscorides, Galen doesn’t mention that it grows in Thebes, since it seems to have been well-known:

“In fact, a tree in the Theban city of Hermopolis, which is called Persaea, is said to drive off many diseases…”

Καὶ ἐν Ἑρμουπόλει δὲ τῆς Θηβαΐδος δένδρον, ἣ Περσαία καλεῖται, πολλὰς ἀπελᾷν νόσους λέγεται...

Nicephorus Callistus Xanthopolus, Historia ecclesiastica 10.31.20–22

Galen also does not mention the spiders. Maybe he had a different source for the story.

At any rate, it seems we now have a plant in Egypt, called Persea, which is covered in deadly spiders (especially in Thebes), which comes either from Persia or Ethiopia, is good for stomach aches, and stops bleeding. 

And what about that other name mentioned by Sostratos, Rhodakinea? One might think this is explained by something Theophrastus says:

“The nature of places makes a great difference relative to bearing or not bearing fruit, as in the case of Persea and the date-palm. The first bears fruit in Egypt and in similar places, but in Rhodes it only comes to the point of blooming…”

εγάλη δὲ διαφορὰ πρὸς καρπὸν καὶ ἀκαρπίαν καὶ ἡ τῶν τόπων φύσις, ὥσπερ ἐπί τε τῆς περσέας ἔχει καὶ τῶν φοινίκων· ἡ μὲν ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ καρποφορεῖ καὶ εἴ που τῶν πλησίον τόπων, ἐν Ῥόδῳ δὲ μέχρι τοῦ ἀνθεῖν μόνον ἀφικνεῖται...

Theophrastus, Historia plantarum 3.3.5

It’s clear Theophrastus or his source thought the plant grew in Rhodes, and it might have taken the name Rhodakinea from there. But Theophrastus, at least, thinks that the Persea is a native tree (ἴδια δένδρα) of Egypt, and he only says that some tried to move it—unsuccessfully—to Rhodes. 

So it’s anybody’s guess how it got to Rhodes in the first place. It doesn’t bear any fruit up north so it must have been cultivated; and in Theophrastus’ version of the story, the plant was not introduced to Egypt at all, but was native to Egypt.

And contrary to what some people think, Theophrastus never says the Persea is grown in Persia. He speaks of something called a Median or Persian apple (τὸ μῆλον τὸ Μηδικὸν ἢ τὸ Περσικὸν καλούμενον) at Historia plantarum 4.4.2, but he never says it grows in Egypt and he says that people do not eat it, but use it for perfume, for keeping moths away, as an antidote for poison and as a breath-freshener. This was probably something like a citron.

Regarding the Persea, on the other hand, Theophrastus, like Diodorus, mentions it has nice, sweet fruit: 

“Some plants are not able to sprout at all in certain places, others sprout but do not bear fruit, like the Egyptian Persaea at Rhodes, but as you proceed south it produces, but only a little, and only there does it produce nice, sweet fruit.”

Τὰ μὲν οὖν ὅλως οὐδὲ βλαστάνειν ἐνιαχοῦ δύναται τὰ δὲ βλαστάνει μὲν ἄκαρπα δὲ γίνεται καθάπερ ἡ περσέα ἡ αἰγυπτία περὶ Ῥόδον, προϊόντι δὲ οὕτω φέρει μὲν ὀλίγον δὲ καὶ καλλικαρπεῖ καὶ γλυκυκαρπεῖ ἐκεῖ μόνον.

Theophrastus, De causis plantarum  2.3.7 (cf. Historia plantarum 4.2.5)

Whatever plant Theophrastus and Diodorus were talking about, assuming they were the same, it does not seem to be the one Athenaeus was talking about. There’s no mention of Persia, no mention of biological warfare, and no explanation why there is a plant growing in Egypt called Persian.

But it also means there are at least two stories, each about a plant called Persea, both growing in Egypt.

III

Prunus persica - The Persian Plum. From Prof. Dr. Otto Wilhelm Thomé, Flora von Deutschland, Österreich und der Schweiz 1885, Gera, Germany. Distributed under CC 4.0 license, via Wikimedia Commons.

Pliny seems to be aware of the confusion and tries to sort it out, apparently using Theophrastus as an authority, but confusing things terribly. He distinguishes the peach (persicae), which he says grows in Egypt and was transplanted to Rhodes (with the results Theophrastus describes), from the Persea, an entirely different tree, which he says resembles the myxa, a tree that grows cherry-like fruit:

“Indeed, it is clear from the name itself that persica (peaches), though foreign, belong to Asia and Greece and were brought from Persia. For peach (persicae, i.e. Persian) trees were slow and difficult to acclimate, such that they bear no fruit in Rhodes, which was their first place of settlement from Egypt. It is false that they are poisonous and cause torment when grown in Persia and were transplanted by kings into Egypt, where the land tamed them. The more diligent writers report this about the Persea, which is entirely different, similar to red myxos fruit, and did not want to grow outside the East. More educated individuals have also denied that it was transplanted from Persia because of punishment, but rather that it was planted by Perseus in Memphis, and for this reason, Alexander established the custom of crowning victors there in honor of his ancestor. However, it always has leaves and fruits while others are still growing. But it will be evident that all plums as well came here after Cato.”

in totum quidem persica peregrina etiam asiae graeciaeque esse ex nomine ipso apparet atque e perside advecta […]. nam Persicae arbores sero et cum difficultate transiere, ut quae in Rhodo nihil ferant, quod primum ab Aegypto earum fuerat hospitium. falsum est venenata cum cruciatu in Persis gigni et poenarum causa ab regibus tralata in Aegyptum terra mitigata. id enim de Persea diligentiores tradunt, quae in totum alia est, myxis rubentibus similis, nec extra orientem nasci voluit. eam quoque eruditiores negaverunt ex Perside propter supplicia tralatam, sed a Perseo Memphi satam, et ob id Alexandrum illa coronari victores ibi instituisse in honorem atavi sui. semper autem folia habet et poma subnascentibus aliis. sed pruna quoque omnia post Catonem coepisse manifestum erit.

Pliny, Naturalis Historia 15.13.45–46

Pliny believes the Persica only recently arrived in Rome, a fact borne out by archaeological evidence. He also says it was first in Persia, then Egypt, then Rhodes. He, too, is trying to make sense of stories about it growing in Egypt, and it seems he has conflated Theophrastus’ discussion of the sweet fruit of the Egyptian Persea with Theophrastus’ other description of the inedible Persian apple (τὸ μῆλοντὸ Περσικὸν). Theophrastus said it was the Persea  which travelled to Rhodes, not the Persikon. The latter had no connection to Egypt at all.

Pliny’s story was influential. The peach tree is still called prunus persica, the Persian plum. Here’s a note from the entry in Wikipedia:

‘The scientific name persica, along with the word “peach” itself and its cognates in many European languages, derives from an early European belief that peaches were native to Persia. The Ancient Romans referred to the peach as malum persicum “Persian apple”, later becoming French pêche, hence the English “peach.” The scientific name, Prunus persica, literally means “Persian plum,” as it is closely related to the plum.’

It is now generally agreed the peach originated in China, but the story of how it got to Europe remains as obscure for us as it was for Pliny.

As for the Persea, following certain unnamed authorities, Pliny abandoned the story that the Persea was brought to Egypt from Persia. He replaces it with the story, in his mind more reasonable, that the tree was brought to Egypt by Perseus, presumably after his visit to the Kingdom of Ethiopia. Hence, the name.

Today the Persea is generally thought to be the same as Mimusops laurifolia (Forssk.) Friis, a tree sacred to the ancient Egyptians, found in the tombs of Ramses II and Tutankhamen, and likely native to Ethiopia. But of course we can’t know any of this for sure. 

Finally, to add to the confusion, Miller used Persica as the genus name for peaches (see illustration above), and Persea as the genus name for Avocados...

The Persea tree of Ancient Egypt. Source: Cow of Gold, distributed under CC 3.0.

IV

Plutarch, by the way, had no truck with any of this etymologizing. He simply states how the plant was used:

“Of the plants in Egypt they say that the Persaea is consecrated especially to the goddess, because its fruit resembles a heart and its leaf a tongue.”

τῶν δ’ ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ φυτῶν μάλιστα τῇ θεῷ καθιερῶσθαι λέγουσι τὴν περσέαν, ὅτι καρδίᾳ μὲν ὁ καρπὸς αὐτῆς, γλώττῃ δὲ τὸ φύλλον ἔοικεν.

Plutarch, Isis and Osiris 68 (Moralia 378C)

There’s a lesson here. 

*The anonymous might have meant Athenaeus of Naucritis, the author of the Sophists at Dinner (Deipnosophistae). I haven’t found the story in any of his writings, but this Athenaeus does talk about Kambyses’ expedition (Deipnosophistae 13.10) He also mentions that the source for his information about Kambyses is Ctesias of Cnidos, as plausible a source as any for a story as silly as the one we are about to hear. Still, I’d like to think the story comes from Athenaeus of Attalia, the Athenaeus attacked by Galen, if only because I am writing a book on him.

(revised with links, 18 September 2019)