Good Humour, Good Health
Did our ancestors maintain a healthy diet? We might assume that at the very least they wanted to. People have always wished to be fit and, since times immemorial, they've known that their health depends on what they eat. But did they know how to? Was a healthy diet even possible before anyone ever heard of calories, vitamins, proteins, carbs, lactose, gluten, allergies and food intolerances?
Well, yes, it was. Just like we (or some of us, at least) try and eat healthy, informed by the latest science, so did our forefathers and foremothers follow diets that were in line with the science that was available to them at the time. Not necessarily the latest science, though. As recently as some 500 years ago, the older the science, the more trustworthy it seemed; scholarly research wasn't so much about making new discoveries as it was about "continuous and sublime recapitulation".[1]
Anyone reading about old European cuisine will sooner or later come across the term "humoral dietetics". So let's take a closer look today at the humoral theory which held sway in Europe for ages, until as late as the 19th century. But to understand what it's all about, we've got to start with the basics, that is, the ancient ideas about the structure of matter and the workings of the human body. So let me invite you to travel in time to, say, the early 17th century and to a short lecture in physics and physiology according to the state of scientific knowledge at the time.
Elementary Particles
The world is made of invisibly small particles of various shapes and characteristics. They come in a few kinds which correspond to the following elements: earth, water, air and fire. A single particle of each element has the shape of a regular convex polyhedron (also known as a Platonic solid). The particles of earth are cube-shaped, cubes being the only Platonic solids which can be arranged to fill space completely, which is why earth comes in solid phase. Water particles are little icosahedra (20-faced solids), which are most similar to a sphere, which is what makes water run smoothly through your fingers. Fire burns because its particles have the form of a (four-faced) tetrahedron with pointy vertices. A particle of air, which is also gaseous, but not as light as fire, is an octahedron, which has eight faces, or twice as many as a fire particle.
The problem is that there are exactly five regular convex polyhedra (which was mathematically proven already in antiquity). Which means there must exist a fifth element (also known as "quintessence", its Latin name), which would correspond to the fifth Platonic solid, the (12-faced) dodecahedron. In the far future, Luc Besson will imagine the fifth element to take the form of Ms. Milla Jovovich's supple body, but ancient natural philosophers thought it was actually aether, a very subtle substance of which heavenly bodies are made. As aether does not occur on Earth, we won't be paying any more attention to it.
The remaining four elements may be described by a pair of characteristics: hot/cold and moist/dry. And so, earth is cold and dry; water is also cold, but moist; air is moist, but hot; and fire is, obviously, hot and dry. Every single thing, substance and living being is composed of particles of these four elements in various proportions, which determines each thing's own complexion. Something which contains, say, more particles of fire and fewer particles of water is of hot and dry complexion – in a higher or lower degree, depending on the dominance of fire in the thing's elemental composition.
The Four Humours
So far, so good? Now let's see how all this connects to the way the human body works; in other words, the basics of the Galenic humoral theory (we'll talk about Galen himself later on).
The human body, as the pinnacle of divine creation, is a reflection of the universe in a micro scale, so it must consists of the same four elements as everything else. What determines the complexion of a human organism are chiefly the four bodily fluids known as humours. Each humour has a set of characteristics corresponding to one of the four elements.
The most important and dominant humour is blood (known as "haima" in Greek and "sanguis" in Latin). The other three are: phlegm, bile (or choler, from Greek "khole") and black bile (or melancholy, from Greek "melas", "black" + "khole", "bile"). To be honest, no one has ever seen that "black bile", but it must exist, otherwise the number of humours wouldn't match the number of elements. Blood is moist and hot, like air; phlegm is moist and cold, like water; bile is dry and hot, like fire; and black bile is dry and cold, like earth. This is very important, so you may want to learn this little poem by heart:
Four humours reign within our bodies wholly, | |||
| — The Englishman's Doctor, or the School of Salerne, translated by John Harington, London: John Helme, 1609, p. C3 *) It may seem that the rhyme is off in the last verse, but "like" was actually pronounced as "leek" in Late Middle English. Original text:
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Where do these humours come from? Food. All that we eat and digest travels to the liver, where it's converted into blood. From the liver, the blood is transported through veins to other organs – firstly, to supply them with nutrients, and secondly, to convert the blood into other humours. The brain is where the blood is made into phlegm; the two kinds of bile are produced closer to the liver: the regular yellow in the gallbladder and the black in the spleen. Other bodily fluids are produced in other organs still; for example, in the testicles, blood is converted into male seed (that is, semen), while in the ovaries, it is turned into female seed (which looks just like blood and is secreted out of a woman's body roughly once a month). As for the role that the heart and lungs play, the Galenic theory doesn't really hold much water, so we're just going to ignore it. It suffices to say that arteries, coming out of the heart, distribute blood enriched with pneuma, a special airy substance which is reponsible for all those vital processes that can't be explained in any other way.
The human body doesn't contain all four humours in equal amounts. Blood, as I've mentioned, is the most abundant one, while the elusive black bile, the least. The perfect proportion is such that for each part of black bile there are four parts of regular bile, four times as many parts of phlegm and four times as much blood as the phlegm. This perfect balance, however, is never found in real life. Each person's humoral complexion is more or less out of balance; there's too much of this humour or not enough of that. Mind you, there's no such thing as "bad humour"; there's only an imbalance of humours. Just as there's no such thing as a perfectly healthy individual; everyone is more or less ill. Therefore, the goal of medicine is simple: to correct the amount of humours in the patient's body in order to bring it as close to the perfect balance as possible.
The humour of which we happen to have too much determines our temperament, which in turn influences what we look like, how we behave and what kind of illnesses we're likely to suffer from. A person of sanguine temperament, that is, with too much blood, has smooth, ruddy skin, an oval face, wavy hair and is generally well built. A choleric, or someone with too much bile, has dry, yellowish skin, fair hair with a predisposition to baldness, sharp facial features and prominent veins. You can tell someone is a melancholic, with overabundance of black bile, by their dark skin that is cold to the touch, a square face, small eyes, narrow lips, dark and sparse hair and a skinny body. Finally, a phlegmatic is characterized by delicate, moist skin, a soft, round face, fair hair and a predisposition to obesity.[2]
As for the emotional side of the temperaments (which is what "temperaments" will still mean in the 21st century), they can be distinguished by the rate at which emotions rise and recede in a given person. In sanguine people, emotions are quick to rise, but just as quick to recede, which makes them a well-balanced extrovert, jovial and sociable. This is usually the most socially acceptable temperament, which is not surprising, as the predominance of blood, the most important of humours, is the least noxious. In cholerics, feelings rise quickly, but take time to recede, so if they lose their temper, as they often do, they're not going to calm down anytime soon. The cholerics are extroverts, but unstable ones, impatient, bold and expansive. Their explosive personality may be irritating, but they often exhibit good leadership skills. For phlegmatics, it's the other way around; emotions are slow to rise, but quick to recede, which makes them dull, calm, patient and introverted. As for melancholics, they're unlikely to lose their cool, but once they do, it's very hard for them to get it back. Their emotions tend to pile faster than they recede, which results in their propensity to depression or a kind of distress known as spleen (after the organ which secretes the black bile).
Each person has their own temperament, but it doesn't mean it stays the same throughout your life. The temperament of child is generally closer to sanguine, but becomes more choleric during adolescence. Your organism becomes dryer as you age, so an adult is more prone to melancholy. Finally, in the old age, the body is still dry, but it tends to ooze an increased amount to phlegm, indicating a more phlegmatic temperament. We go through a similar cycle each year; spring, being hot and moist, intensifies the sanguine temperament; summer, hot and dry, aggravates the choler; autumn, which is cold and dry, reinforces melancholy; and winter, being cold and moist, helps the phlegm to build up. It's important to keep these ageing and seasonal changes in mind when developing a sound dietary regimen.
The various things that our health depends on may be divided into three broad categories:
- the naturals, or internal factors, which include the aforementioned elements, humours, temperaments, internal organs and pneumas;
- the non-naturals, or external factors, which are independent of our innate humoral complexion;
- the contra-naturals, or pathogens.
Therapy typically involves fighting the latter, but also correcting the amount of humours, if the patient's humoral constitution has been thrown way off balance. For example, if the symptoms include fever and profuse sweating, thus exhibiting an overabundance of the hot and moist blood, the therapy may involve bloodletting. But if you think bloodletting to be the Galenic cure-all, then think again. If it's a humour other than blood that the medic finds to be superfluous, then it's that humour that must be regulated. Possible procedures include applying emetics, laxatives, carminatives, etc. Did you know that great lords pay a great deal of money for the beneficial enemas prescribed for them by their personal physicians?
But on an everyday basis, prevention, as any doctor will tell you, is better than cure. This is done by controlling the six "non-naturals", which include: food and drink, sleep and wakefulness, excretions and retentions, exercise and rest, air, and mental affections. If you need help remembering them and you speak German, then you may use the following mnemotechnic, designed in the early 17th century by a Tyrolean doctor (who added God as the seventh "non-natural"):
| Gott | God | |
| Essen und trincken | Food and drink | |
| Schlaffen und wachen | Sleep and wakefulness | |
| Oede oder Ringerung deß Überfluß | Abstemiousness | |
| Nutzen oder Übung des Leybs | Exercise | |
| Dauglich Lufft | Fresh air | |
| Trost des Gemüths | Peace of mind | |
| GESONDT | HEALTHY | |
| — Hippolytus Guarinonius: Die Grewel der Verwüstung Menschlichen Geschlechts, Ingolstadt: 1610; quoted in: Klaus Bergdolt: Wellbeing: A Cultural History of Healthy Living, trans. Jane Dewhurst, Polity Press, 2008, p. 200 | ||
All this boils down to the idea that a hygienic lifestyle is crucial for good health. Out of the six non-naturals (let's leave God out of this), food and drink seem most important, though, at least if judging by the amount of space devoted to dietetics in medical handbooks. In any case, humoral medicine doesn't really distinguish between aliment and drugs; every medicine is food and every food is medicine. And this is where we're finally getting to our main question: what is the correct humoral diet?
Humoral Diet in Theory
As you might have already guessed, a healthy, well-balanced diet combines foodstuffs in such a way that will help cancel their humoral complexions out; things that are hot should be mixed with cold ones, just like foods that are moist are best paired with those that are dry. A perfect balance is not advised, however, because, as we know, every person is already somewhat off-balance. Therefore, you should follow a personalised diet that will help correct your own humoral constitution. If you're a choleric, for example, then you should eat more watery (that is, moist and cold) foods, while avoiding those akin to fire (dry and hot). And bear in mind that your personalised diet should be modified as you age, as well as constantly adjusted for the season of the year and any current afflictions. There is no single diet that is fit for all; a regimen that is designed for one individual may be harmful to another. From the point of view of humoral dietetics, the 21st-century food pyramid, which anyone can consult and follow, makes no sense.
Alright then, but how do we know the humoral complexion of every single foodstuff? Well, there are some general rules you can follow. First ot all, all animals and plants take on the characteristics of the environment they live in. Birds, for instance, fly in the air, so they are hot and moist (wild birds more so, poultry less). Fish are moist and cold, just like the water they live in. Pigs, which wallow in mud, have a similar complexion, but to a lesser degree. Other four-legged animals, which graze in the open sunlight, such as cows and sheep, are hot and dry. Vegetables grow in the dirt, which makes them cold and dry – unless they evidently contain a lot of water, like cucumbers do, in which case they are cold and moist. Just like in humans, there are also differences between individual specimens within a single species; young animals are generaly moister, becoming drier as they age. Males are less moist than females, although their dryness may be mitigated through castration. Wild game is also drier than its domesticated counterparts, so while pork is moist, a wild boar is going to by rather dry.
In case of doubt, you can use taste as a good indicator. Things that taste sweet are often humorally close to air; sugar is hot in the first and moist in the second degree. Foods that are sour or bitter are akin to earth; vinegar is cold in the first and dry in the third degree (this is also why, even in the 21st century, tart-tasting wines will still be referred to as "dry"). Salty or pungent flavours indicate humoral affinity to fire; salt is hot in the second and dry in the third degree, while black pepper is both hot and dry in the fourth degree (and of course, long in the future, the word "hot" will still be used to describe spiciness as well as temperature). Finally, things that are insipid or watery are typically cold and moist; spinach, for example, is cold and moist in the first degree.
But that's not all yet. You can modify the natural humoral complexion of a given ingredient by giving it an appropriate thermal treatment. I suppose you won't be surprised to learn that roasting and baking makes things not only hotter, but also drier; frying dries them out, but to a lesser degree; and boiling adds moisture to your dish. This is why beef is good for boiling or stewing, but never for roasting, while pork – to the contrary – is good for the grill or the spit, but not for the pot. Veggies and fruits are for the most part so cold that you should almost never eat them raw; even lettuce should be at least scalded with boiling water before serving.
If you wish to neutralize the humoral characteristics of one or more of your ingredients, then a rather obvious method is to mix them with ingredients having opposite complexions. For example, fat is rich in water, so you can temper the dryness and hotness of red meat by larding. Sugar, moist and warm is commonly added to most cold dishes, even if these are not really desserts in the 21st-century sense. The natural moistness of fish is often counterbalanced by sprinkling it with vinegar or lime juice. This general neutralization method is more effective, if you can break down the ingredients into tiny bits and mix them all well. You can, for instance, mix cold vinegar with hot mustard seeds, but it's better to first grind the seeds down to a paste – which, incidentally, is how you make mustard. This is why mortar, pestles, graters and sieves are among the most important kitchen utensils.
The vast majority of spices and herbs (especially dried) is hot and dry, whick makes them perfect for tempering the phlegmatic nature of some meats, like pork. Sprinkling, though, is not as effective as sticking, hence the great popularity of thick, spicy sauces. Even better is to mix spices with aspic (which, in itself, is cold and dry) and pour this mixture onto meat, creating a galantine, one of the favourite dishes of medieval Europe. It's also important to give the various ingredients enough time for their elements to neutralize each other. In some extreme cases, you have to start the process of combining the ingredients while one of them is still alive. Hence recipes which instruct you to kill lampreys by drowning them in wine, bury live eels in salt or force-feed a well-fattened capon with vinegar.
| Take a live capon, pour wine vinegar down its gullet through a funnel, bind it and hang for five hours. Pluck it, gut it, and roast it in the usual manner or boil it as you like. | ||
| — Stanisław Czerniecki: Compendium ferculorum albo Zebranie potraw, Kraków: w drukarni Jerzego i Mikołaja Schedlów, 1682, p. 36, own translation
Original text:
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Any questions? No questions.[3] Well, no, there is one:
Whose Idea Is It?
Before we discuss the practical side of humoral dietetics, I'd like to give a bunch of names and dates related to the history of the theory I've just summarised. If you're easily bored by such details, then you can just skip this section.
If you're still here, then I'm inviting you to yet another travel voyage and time and spice, all the way to Croton, a Greek town at the tip of the Italian boot, in the earlier half of the 5th century BCE. The town's intellectual and religious life is dominated by the sect of Pythagoreans. Yes, this is a time of celebrity mathematicians. Sadly, after Pythagoras had died, his followers were quick to turn his science into a dogmatic religion, which they observe by praying to numbers and by refraining from eating meat and legumes. Instead of elegant mathematical proofs, they're now content with "the Master said so" as an argument. A few, however, preferring to think for themselves, have managed to wriggle themselves out of the cult. Among them is Empedocles of Acraga, a Greek colony on Sicily. What he's particularly interested in is the structure of matter. Earlier thinker, who lived in Ionia on the western shore of what will once be called Turkey, were trying identify the primordial substance, from which all other matter derives, proposing various specific elements: Thales of Miletus suggested water; Heraclitus of Ephesus, fire; Xenophanes of Colophon, earth… Empedocles, who proved the existence of air in a simple experiment with a water clock, tried to reconcile them all by proposing not one, but four primordial substances, that is, earth, water, air and fire. It will take one more generation for Plato to add aether to this number, so that he can assign to each of the five elements one of the five regular polyhedra, including the recently discovered icosahedron.
In the meantime, another former Pythagorean, who was born here, in Croton, is doing natural philosophy with a medical bent. Dissecting human corpses is forbidden for religious reasons, but his studies on animal eyes and brains, have led him to the conclusion that it's the brain, rather than the heart, that is the seat of mind and emotions. Similarly to the Pythagoreans, Alcmeon views the world as a constant struggle of opposites. This includes the human body, where warmth competes against coldness, moistness against dryness, and so forth. A balance between them all is what keep you in good health, while the predominance of any one characteristics leads to illness.
Hippocrates of Kos, born about half a century after Alcmeon, will eventually combine the latter's theory with Empedocles's by assigning one humour (including the imaginary black bile) to each of the four elements in order to explain the struggles of hot vs cold and moist vs dry. He will be also known for introducing the general rule that the physician's duty is to make the patient feel better or at least not worse; and for contributing so much to medical theory that it becomes a standalone scholarly discipline. And all this without ever peeking inside a human body. This opportunity will only be available in the following century (4th BCE) to doctors working in Alexandria, such as Herophilus of Chalcedon and Erasistratus of Ceos. This they will owe to the first Greek rulers of Egypt, of the house of Ptolemy, who, for the benefit of science, will allow dissections of human corpses to take place on the premises of the Alexandrian temple of the muses (known as a "museum", but really more like a university).
Much later, under the Roman Empire (1st–2nd centuries CE), Greek medics working in what will once be Turkey, will once again be only allowed to dissect animals (leading, for example, to a long-held notion that the human liver has not two, but five lobes, like in a dog) and will only ever have the chance to study human anatomy while looking after wounded soldiers and gladiators. What Dioscorides of Anazarbus and Galen of Pergamon will be remembered for is summarising all medical knowledge in books that will be read by generations of medics for centuries after the works of their predecessors will have gone up in smoke together with the library of the Alexandrian museum. Galen's book, in particular, will be crucial for preserving the theory of humours, which will come to be known as Galenic theory.
Like much of the achievements of the Greco-Roman civilisation, Galenic medicine will be largely forgotten after the fall of the western part of the Roman Empire, but will survive in its Byzantine part, from where it will be gleaned by the Arabs and from them, by the Persians. A man who will make the greatest contributions to further develop the theory will live in 11th-century Uzbekistan under the name Abu Ali al-Husayn ibn Abdillah ibn al-Hasan ibn Ali ibn Sina (or Avicenna for short). In the following century, the medical knowledge preserved and expanded by the Muslims, will filter back into western Europe thanks to, among others, Constantine the African, who will bring it from Tunesia to Salerno, Italy. It's in Salerno where Europe's first medical school will be located and where Greek medical texts will be translated from Arabic and Hebrew, the chief languages of medicine. This is how Galen, along with "his" humoral theory, will be rediscovered in Europe and popularised in courtly circles by such courts physicians as Michele Savonarola (his better-known grandson, Girolamo, will study medicine too, but then he's going to quit the studies and get busy with religion and politics). Finally, in the 1470s, Bartolomeo Sacchi (better known as Platina) will publish the first ever printed cookbook, De honesta voluptate et valetudine (Of Honest Pleasure and Good Health), which will introduce wider European populace with recipes marrying the pleasure of eating and humoral medicine.
In the 16th century, after the discoveries made by da Gama, Columbus and others, Europeans will finally realize that if ancient authorities got it wrong about geography, then it's possible they also got it wrong about other things. It will be the time of the first medics to question Galenic theory, with Philippus Aureolus Theophrastus Bombastus von Hohenheim (or Parecelsus for short) at the helm. Two years after his death, though, all works of Galen will be finally published in print, in the Greek original, leading to new translations and a renewed interestest in Galenism. By mid-17th century, with European book market finally saturated with humoral medical-dietary handbooks, Galen's authority will have been thrown into doubt once again, following the discoveries of the likes of Andries van Wesel (or Vesalius, who will prove Galen wrong about the structure of human heart), William Harvey (who will discover that veins and arteries form a closed circuit) and Jan Baptist van Helmont (who will show that digestion is due to gastric acids and not to an "inner heat"). But all that is not say that humoral dietetics will have been completely forgotten.
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Humoral Diet in Practice
And this way we've travelled back to the 17th century. Now that we know more or less what humoral theory is, let's see how it can be put into practice. Let's begin with a fairly obvious observation (which will still stand in the 21st century) that usually the only people to think about healthy eating are the ones who can afford to do so. The poor are just happy, if they have anything to put into their pots. Those with a middle income (and literate) may be able to buy dietary handbooks to try and design their regimens by themselves. But only the most affluent can afford to employ a private medic/dietitian whose job would be to make sure that nothing unhealthy finds its way onto their lord's table.
In a grea lord's court, every meal is a feast, not just for the lord himself, but for also for his family, guests and major retainers. How, then, do you ensure that each person at the table gets a diet that is appropriate for their particular temperament? The only way to do is to serve a variety of dishes with different humoral qualities at the same time and let each diner pick whatever their medic advised them to eat (or what they've read is good for them in a book). Known as "service à la française", or service in the French way, it's the been the predominant way of serving food at banquets in Europe since the Middle Ages and will continue to be until the 19th century, when „service à la russe”, or service in the Russian way, will take over, with each dish served to each diner separately in a strict order.
Tylko czy to faktycznie tak działa? Przecież lekarz może doradzać, zalecać, czasem nawet łagodnie strofować, ale nie może zapominać, że jest na dworze sługą, a nie panem. Nierzadko to sam pacjent, nienawykły do tego, by mu rozkazywano, sam diagnozuje u siebie chorobę i sam obmyśla terapię, a lekarza wzywa tylko po to, aby zalecenia pacjenta posłusznie wykonał, np.: teraz zrobisz mi lewatywę. Jak zatem dopilnować, żeby pan rzeczywiście jadł tylko to, co powinien? Czasami lekarz może tylko ogólnie utyskiwać, tak jak to robi John Archer, nadworny medyk króla angielskiego Karola II.
| I know the people of all qualities do commonly feed upon what comes to table, be it what it will, without considering the nature or qualities of anything, or agreement, or disagreement to their constitution, so it do but please their palate; by which means diverse have and do dig their graves with their teeth […] |
| — John Archer: Every Man his own Doctor, vol. I, London: nakładem autora, 1673, p. 18
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Z jednej strony mamy więc lekarza narzekającego na nieposłusznych pacjentów, co wolą smacznie jeść niż stosować się do jego zaleceń, a z drugiej – pacjenta, który podejrzewa, iż jego własny medyk pragnie go zmorzyć głodem. Taki właśnie stereotypowo apodyktyczny lekarz-dietetyk służył na dworze Sancha Panzy, dawnego giermka Don Kichota; przez cały obiad stał przy swoim panu i polecał służbie natychmiast zabierać ze stołu każdą potrawę, jaką tylko postawiono przed głodnym Panzą (a że ten ostatni lubił jeść, świadczy już samo jego nazwisko, które po hiszpańsku znaczy „brzuch”).
| I, señor, am a physician, and I am paid a salary in this island to serve its governors as such, and I have a much greater regard for their health than for my own, studying day and night and making myself acquainted with the governor's constitution, in order to be able to cure him when he falls sick. The chief thing I have to do is to attend at his dinners and suppers and allow him to eat what appears to me to be fit for him, and keep from him what I think will do him harm and be injurious to his stomach; and therefore I ordered that plate of fruit to be removed as being too moist, and that other dish I ordered to be removed as being too hot and containing many spices that stimulate thirst; for he who drinks much kills and consumes the radical moisture wherein life consists. | |||
| — Miguel de Cervantes: The History of Don Quixote, translated by John Ormsby, Wikisource, 1885
Original text:
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Tego lekarza Sancho wyrzucił z pracy już po pierwszym posiłku. I choć ten akurat był oczywiście fikcyjny, to i w świecie rzeczywistym dietetycy, którzy nie chcieli wylecieć na zbity bruk, musieli nauczyć się, jak dostosować teorię do oczekiwań pracodawcy i jak zaproponować mu dania nie tylko zdrowe, ale też: smaczne, zgodne z nakazami religijnymi, dostępne w jego strefie klimatycznej oraz – co równie ważne – pokazujące, na co go stać.
Zacznijmy od tego ostatniego kryterium: w jaki sposób dietetyka może pomóc w utrzymaniu zastanego (a nawet danego od Stwórcy) porządku społecznego? Co zrobić, żeby chłopi i mieszczanie nawet nie marzyli o tym, by jadać to samo co szlachta? Jednym, stosowanym od dawna sposobem, są ustawy antyzbytkowe, które po prostu zakazują jadania ponad stan pod groźbą kary. Ten sposób jest jednak mało skuteczny; powiedz człowiekowi, że jakaś potrawa jest dla niego zbyt elitarna, to tym chętniej będzie ją jadł, aby pokazać, że on sam przecież należy do elity. A gdyby zamiast tego wmówić mu, że ta potrawa jest dla niego niezdrowa? Dietetycy wywiązali się z tego zadania doskonale. Wystarczyło wykazać, że ludzie harujący fizycznie, mający bliski kontakt z ziemią i słońcem, mają zdecydowanie inną konstytucję humoralną niż osoby urodzone po to, by nie pracować. A jeśli tak, to zupełnie logicznym jest, iż to, co zdrowe dla jednych, jest szkodliwe dla drugich i na odwrót. Rolnicy, tragarze, żołnierze i marynarze nie powinni spożywać świeżego jasnego pieczywa, drobiu, ani owoców, gdyż te produkty, odpowiednie dla szlachty, tylko by im zaklajstrowały żołądki. Z drugiej strony, pożywienie odpowiednie dla ludzi pracy, takie jak czerstwy żytni chleb, kasza, ser, solone śledzie czy warzywa korzeniowe i strączkowe, byłoby dla wyższych warstw społeczeństwa zupełnie niestrawne. Weźmy na przykład tak pospolite warzywo, jak czosnek:
| Garlic, as Galen writes […], is hot and dry in the fourth degree […] Garlic is irritating and burning; it hurts, dries and bloats the stomach, it induces thirts, makes the head spin and blinds the eyes, therefore wise men do well to be wary of it. […] Garlic is greatly beneficial […] to those who travel to foreign lands and overseas, especially where there are venomous reptiles and noxious, foul-smelling waters. Likewise, it is good against the plague, but only to gross people (peasantry), who are used to eating garlic, […] because it amplifies their innate heat and helps burn all excess matter; but it in a luxurious man it does much harm. | ||
| — Marcin z Urzędowa: Herbarz polski, to jest o przyrodzeniu ziół i drzew rozmaitych, i innych rzeczy do lekarstw należących, Kraków: Jan Firlewicz, 1595, p. 18, own translation
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Krótko mówiąc, czosnek rośnie w ziemi, ma ostry smak i śmierdzi, więc dla ludzi nawykłych do rozkoszy jest szkodliwy, a nawet groźny. Za to chłopi, którzy i tak są przyzwyczajeni do jedzenia czosnku, mogą się nim zajadać bez obaw. Wśród wielu historyjek, które mają chłopstwu przypomnieć, gdzie ich miejsce, szczególnie ciekawa jest ta spisana przez Sabadina degli Arienti w czasie, kiedy Kolumb żeglował w poszukiwaniu Indii. Opowiada ona o słudze, który upraszał swojego pana, by ten zrobił go rycerzem. Znudzony namolnymi prośbami szlachcic postanowił wreszcie dać swemu poddanemu nauczkę: owszem, zrobił go szlachcicem, ale za herb nadał mu główkę czosnku pod złotym słońcem w błękitnym polu tarczy, a za umieszczany na hełmie klejnot – pannę zatykającą palcami nos. Błękit i słońce symbolizują tu powietrze i ogień – niby szlachetne pierwiastki, które same często pojawiają się w heraldyce szlacheckiej; ale tutaj, w towarzystwie czosnku, świadczą raczej o jego właściwościach wysuszających i rozpalających (i to w czwartym, a więc niemal śmiertelnym, stopniu). Morał jest oczywisty: czosnek zawsze będzie śmierdział, a chłop zawsze będzie chłopem.[4]
Jest tu tylko jeden szkopuł: czosnek jest smaczny. I to nie tylko dla chłopstwa. Dlaczego więc szlachta miałaby odmawiać sobie czegoś, co niewątpliwie poprawia smak potraw? Na szczęście istnieje furtka: pospolite produkty, takie jak czosnek, można uszlachetnić, łącząc je z bardziej ekskluzywnymi składnikami. Sam degli Arienti przyznaje w końcu, że „czosnek zawsze będzie chłopskim jadłem, nawet jeśli czasami daje się sztucznie ucywilizować poprzez nadzianie nim pieczonej gęsi.” I tym się różni czosnek od poddanego – jeden może liczyć na awans społeczny, drugi zaś – nigdy.[5]
Jeśli teorię Galenowską udało się nagiąć do usprawiedliwienia różnic stanowych, to znaczy, że można ją wykorzystać również do uzasadnienia różnic geograficznych w żywieniu. W średniowieczu porady starożytnych autorytetów były w całej Europie traktowane raczej dosłownie, przez co wszędzie starano się jadać wedle tych samych schematów. Ale przecież Hipokrates i Galen mieszkali nad Morzem Śródziemnym. Dlaczego to, co było dobre dla nich, ma być dobre też w innych strefach klimatycznych? Narody północne mają wszak inny temperament niż południowcy, więc to naturalne, że ich dieta też musi się różnić od tego, co jadali Grecy i Rzymianie. A skąd wiadomo, co dla ludzi z północy jest dobre? To proste: dobre jest to, do czego ich organizmy zdążyły się przez setki lat przyzwyczaić; innymi słowy: jeśli dany naród lubi coś jeść lub pić, to znaczy, że właśnie to jest dla tego narodu zdrowe. Może i Galenowi służyło wino, ale dla Holendrów zdrowsze jest mocno chmielone piwo; dawne autorytety może i przedkładały delikatną cielęcinę nad wołowinę, ale dla Anglików najlepsza jest właśnie wołowina z musztardą dla zrównoważenia ich chłodnego klimatu; a Szkoci, ze względu na ich jeszcze surowszy klimat, mogą nawet jeść ciastka owsiane, choć wszyscy inni bez wątpienia by się od nich pochorowali. To dzięki temu odkryciu mogły się w Europie wyodrębnić kuchnie narodowe.
Co jeszcze można uzasadnić dietetyką humoralną? Na przykład posty. Zastanawialiście się kiedyś, dlaczego w poście nie wolno jeść mięsa? Otóż dlatego, że czerwone mięso rozgrzewa organizm oraz wzmacnia humory choleryczny i sangwiniczny, które sprzyjają rozwiązłości i pobudzają do innych grzesznych uciech cielesnych. Ryby, przeciwnie, studzą organizm i hamują skłonność do grzechu, a więc są w poście dozwolone. Oprócz Wielkiego Postu, Adwentu oraz wigilii rozlicznych świąt, pości się także w Suche Dni. Obejmują one po trzy dni (środę, piątek i sobotę) w każdym kwartale roku. Trudno doszukać się teologicznej czy liturgicznej podstawy dla tych kwartalnych postów, ale można je uzasadnić humoralnie.
| For the first time, which is in March, is hot and moist. The second, in summer, is hot and dry. The third, in harvest, is cold and dry. The fourth, in winter, is cold and moist. Then let us fast in March […] for to repress the heat of the flesh boiling, and to quench luxury or to temper it. In summer we ought to fast to the end that we chastise the burning and ardour of avarice. In harvest for to repress the drought of pride, and in winter for to chastise the coldness of untruth and of malice. | |||
| — Jacobus de Voragine: The Golden Legend: Lives of the Saints, Aeterna Press, 2015
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Ale jeśli starożytne reguły dietetyczne stały się w nowożytnej praktyce aż tak elastyczne, że można za ich pomocą uzasadnić prawie wszystko, to czy nie rodzi to pokusy, by nagiąć je jeszcze bardziej i za zdrowe uznać po prostu to, co komu indywidualnie smakuje? No jasne, że tak! Już w XVI w. Michel de Montaigne wiedział, że to wszystko ściema.
| If your physician does not think it good for you to sleep, to drink wine, or to eat such and such meats, never trouble yourself; I will find you another that shall not be of his opinion. | |||
| — Michel de Montaigne: The Essays of Montaigne, tranlated by Charles Cotton, vol. III, chapter XIII, Wikisource, 1877
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W XX w. pewien mediewista dostrzeże jednak ciekawą prawidłowość, a mianowicie, że potrawy przyrządzone według dawnych przepisów zgodnych z zasadami dietetyki humoralnej są zawsze smaczne.
| […] It does not really matter whether or not we accept that the flesh of pheasant is temperately warm and temperately moist, or even that we agree with Averroes that pheasant is the supremely preferable fowl for eating, in order to enjoy a good English Mawmenee made with shredded pheasant meat, wine, sugar, rice flour, pine-nuts, dates, ginger, cinnamon and cloves. We don't have to be aware that crayfish are both warm and dry in the second degree in order to be convinced that the Italian Pastello de gamari is delectable when it combines the meat of crayfish, that is first boiled and then fried in olive oil and onion, with pepper and saffron, ground walnuts and filberts, and sugar, and then baked all together in a pieshell. And why should we care that sorrel is held to be cold and dry in the second degree, if […] sorrel verjuice is rationally combined with (bitter) orange juice in a delicious French dressing for fried sole? Or that barley is held to be cold and dry in the first degree when, boiled until thick with warm-and-moist almond milk and warm-and-dry honey, the Catalan Ordiat is such a simple yet mouth-watering delicacy? |
| — Terence Scully: The Art of Cookery in the Middle Ages, Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 1995, p. 64–65, tłum. własne
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Jak to możliwe? Czy już w średniowieczu dietetycy i kucharze spiskowali, by dopasować porady zdrowotne do gustów swych pracodawców? Niewykluczone, choć można znaleźć i inne wytłumaczenia. Na przykład, że spośród wielkiej liczby kombinacji składników, które dietetycy uznali za dopuszczalne, kucharze metodą prób i błędów wybrali te, które są smaczne, a te niejadalne popadły w zapomnienie. Możliwe też, że owe połączenia smakują nam z tego prostego powodu, że przez stulecia dietetyki humoralnej zdążyliśmy się do nich przyzwyczaić. Jeszcze w XXI w. ludzie będą przyprawiać wieprzowinę musztardą, rybę będą skrapiać cytryną, a ogórki solić, nie myśląc wcale, że tego właśnie wymaga zasada równoważenia humorów.
Tak czy siak, przekonanie, iż medycyna humoralna to głównie sposób na wyciąganie kasy od bogatych pacjentów, jest w naszym XVII wieku coraz powszechniejsze. Lekarze hołdujący rzekomo starożytnym autorytetom stali się przedmiotem drwin satyryków i komediantów, z Cervantesem, Shakespeare'em i Molière'em na czele. Chory z urojenia autorstwa tego ostatniego to chyba najlepszy przykład owego trendu.
– […] What does your doctor order you for food? | ||
| — Molière: The Imaginary Invalid, translated by Charles Heron Wall, Wikisource, 1877
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A na koniec przykład z polskiej literatury na to, jak nisko upadł szacunek dla dietetyki humoralnej.
Eating fish gives you phlegm – or that's what you claim – | ||
| — P.H.P.W. [Jacek Przetocki]: Postny obiad, albo Zabaweczka, 1654, own translation
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References
- ↑ In the words of Brother Jorge in The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco (quoted from memory).
- ↑ The Four Temperaments, in: David K. Osborn: Greek Medicine
- ↑ As Sgt. Sukhov used to say in White Sun of the Desert by Vladimir Motyl (that's another quote from memory).
- ↑ Allen J. Grieco: The Social Politics of Pre-Linnean Botanical Classification, in: I Tatti Studies: Essays in the Renaissance, vol. 4, Casa Editrice Leo S. Olschki, Villa I Tatti, The Harvard Center for Italian Renaissance Studies, 1991, p. 131–132
- ↑ Ryleigh Nucilli: How ‘Ennobling’ Helped Italian Aristocrats Solve the Problem of Garlic, in: Atlas Obscura, Brooklyn: 27 kwietnia 2018
Bibliography
- Jarosław Dumanowski, Magdalena Kasprzyk-Chevriaux: Kapłony i szczeżuje: Opowieść o zapomnianej kuchni polskiej, Wołowiec: Wydawnictwo Czarne, 2018
- David Gentilcore: Food and Health in Early Modern Europe: Diet, Medicine and Society, 1450–1800, Bloomsbury, 2015
- Jacques Jouanna: Hippocrates as Galen's Teacher, in: Manfred Horstmanshoff: Hippocrates and Medical Education: Selected Papers Presented at the XIIth International Hippocrates Colloquium, Universiteit Leiden, 24-26 August 2005, Brill, 2010, p. 1–21
- Mary Lindemann: Medicine and Society in Early Modern Europe, Cambridge University Press, 2010
- Terence Scully: The Art of Cookery in the Middle Ages, Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 1995
- Marta Sikorska: Smak i tożsamość: polska i niemiecka literatura kulinarna w XVII wieku, Warszawa: Muzeum Pałacu Króla Jana III w Wilanowie, 2019
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