The cabbage has had a singular destiny--in one country an object of
worship, in another of contempt. The Egyptians made of it a god, and it
was the first dish they touched at their repasts. The Greeks and Romans
took it as a remedy for the languor following inebriation. Cato said that
in the cabbage was a panacea for the ills of man. Erasistratus recommended
it as a specific in paralysis. Hippocrates accounted it a sovereign
remedy, boiled with salt, for the colic. And Athenian medical men
prescribed it to young nursing mothers, who wished to see lusty babies
lying in their arms. Diphilus preferred the beet to the cabbage, both as
food and as medicine,--in the latter case, as a vermifuge. (Horace Greeley
prefers the latter, for he says that "a cabbage will beat a beet if the
cabbage gets a-head.") The same physician extols mallows, not for
fomentation, but as a good edible vegetable, appeasing hunger and curing
the sore throat at the same time. The asparagus, as we are accustomed to
see it, has derogated from its ancient magnificence. The original "grass"
was from twelve to twenty feet high; and a dish of them could only have
been served to the Brobdignagians. Under the Romans, stems of asparagus
were raised of three pounds' weight, heavy enough to knock down a slave in
waiting with. The Greeks ate them of more moderate dimensions, or would
have eaten them, but that the publishing doctors of their day denounced
asparagus as injurious to the sight. But then it was also said that a
slice or two of boiled pumpkin would reinvigorate the sight which had been
deteriorated by asparagus! "Do that as quickly as you should asparagus!"
is a proverb descended to us from Augustus, and illustrative of the mode
in which the vegetable was prepared for the table.
A still more favorite dish, at Athens, was turnips from Thebes. Carrots,
too, formed a distinguished dish at Greek and Roman tables. Purslain was
rather honored as a cure against poisons, whether in the blood by wounds,
or in the stomach from beverage. I have heard it asserted in France, that
if you briskly rub a glass with fingers which have been previously rubbed
with purslain or parsley, the glass will certainly break. I have tried the
experiment, but only to find that the glass resisted the pretended charm.
Broccoli was the favorite vegetable food of Drusus. He ate greedily
thereof; and as his father, Tiberius, was as fond of it as he, the master
of the Roman world and his illustrious heir were constantly quarrelling,
like two clowns, when a dish of broccoli stood between them. Artichokes
grew less rapidly into aristocratic favor; the _dictum_ of Galen was
against them, and for a long time they were only used by drinkers against
headache, and by singers to strengthen their voice. Pliny pronounced
artichokes excellent food for poor people and donkeys. For nobler stomachs
he preferred the cucumber--the Nemesis of vegetables. But people were at
issue touching the merits of the cucumber. Not so regarding the lettuce,
which has been universally honored. It was the most highly esteemed dish
of the beautiful Adonis. It was prescribed as provocative to sleep; and it
cured Augustus of the malady which sits so heavily on the soul of Leopold
of Belgium--hypochondriasis. Science and rank eulogized the lettuce, and
philosophy sanctioned the eulogy in the person of Aristoxenus, who not
only grew lettuces as the pride of his garden, but irrigated them with
wine, in order to increase their flavor.
But we must not place too much trust in the stories, either of sages or
apothecaries. These pagans recommended the seductive but indigestible
endive as good against the headache, and young onions and honey as
admirable preservers of health, when taken fasting; but this was a
prescription for rustic swains and nymphs. The higher classes, in town or
country, would hardly venture on it. And yet the mother of Apollo ate raw
leeks, and loved them of gigantic dimensions. For this reason, perhaps,
was the leek accounted not only as salubrious, but as a beautifier. The
love for melons was derived, in similar fashion probably, from Tiberius,
who cared for them even more than he did for broccoli. The German Cæsars
inherited the taste of their Roman predecessor, carrying it, indeed, to
excess; for more than one of them submitted to die after eating melons,
rather than live by renouncing them.
I have spoken of gigantic asparagus: the Jews had radishes that could vie
with them, if it be true that a fox and cubs could burrow in the hollow of
one, and that it was not uncommon to grow them of a hundred pounds in
weight. It must have been such radishes as those that were employed by
seditious mobs of old, as weapons in insurrections. In such case, a
rebellious people were always well victualled, and had peculiar
facilities, not only to beat their adversaries, but _to eat their own
arms_! The horseradish is probably a descendant of this gigantic ancestor.
It had at one period a gigantic reputation. Dipped in poison, it rendered
the draught innocuous, and rubbed on the hands, it made an encounter with
venomed serpents mere play. In short, it was celebrated as being a cure
for every evil in life, the only exception being that it destroyed the
teeth. There was far more difference of opinion touching garlic than there
was touching the radish. The Egyptians deified it, as they did the leek
and the cabbage; the Greeks devoted it to Gehenna, and to soldiers,
sailors, and cocks that were not "game." Medicinally, it was held to be
useful in many diseases, if the root used were originally sown when the
moon was below the horizon. No one who had eaten of it, however, could
presume to enter the temple of Cybele. Alphonso of Castile was as
particular as this goddess; and a knight of Castile, "detected as being
guilty of garlic," suffered banishment from the royal presence during the
entire month.
It is long since the above instructive article on the "Green Groceries of
the Classics," by Dr. Doran, was in print, and I think it will be new to
most of my readers. I hope it will prove interesting as well as
instructive.