In the Forum even, and in the very midst of the Comitium[1902] of Rome, a fig-tree is carefully cultivated, in memory of the consecration which took place on the occasion of a thunderbolt[1903] which once fell on that spot; and still more, as a memorial of the fig-tree which in former days overshadowed Romulus and Remus, the founders of our empire, in the Lupercal Cave. This tree received the name of “ruminalis,” from the circumstance that under it the wolf was found giving the breast—rumis it was called in those days—to the two infants. A group in bronze was afterwards erected to consecrate the remembrance of this miraculous event, as, through the agency of Attus Navius the augur, the tree itself had passed spontaneously from its original locality[1904] to the Comitium in the Forum. And not without some direful presage is it that that tree has withered away, though, thanks to the care of the priesthood, it has been since replaced.[1905]
There was another fig-tree also, before the temple of Saturn,[1906] which was removed on the occasion of a sacrifice made by the Vestal Virgins, it being found that its roots were gradually undermining the statue of the god Silvanus. Another one, accidentally planted there, flourished in the middle of the Forum,[1907] upon the very spot, too, in which, when from a direful presage it had been foreboded that the growing empire was about to sink to its very foundations, Curtius, at the price of an inestimable treasure—in other words, by the sacrifice of such unbounded virtue and piety—redeemed his country by a glorious death. By a like accident, too, a vine and an olive-tree have sprung up in the same spot,[1908] which have ever since been carefully tended by the populace for the agreeable shade which they afford. The altar that once stood there was afterwards removed by order of the deified Julius Cæsar, upon the occasion of the last spectacle of gladiatorial combats[1909] which he gave in the Forum.
CHAP. 21.—CAPRIFICATION.
The fig, the only one among all the pomes, hastens to maturity by the aid of a remarkable provision of Nature. (19.) The wild-fig,[1910] known by the name of “caprificus,” never ripens itself, though it is able to impart to the others the principle of which it is thus destitute; for we occasionally find Nature making a transfer of what are primary causes, and being generated from decay. To effect this purpose the wild fig-tree produces a kind of gnat.[1911] These insects, deprived of all sustenance from their parent tree, at the moment that it is hastening to rottenness and decay, wing their flight to others of kindred though cultivated kind. There feeding with avidity upon the fig, they penetrate it in numerous places, and by thus making their way to the inside, open the pores of the fruit.[1912] The moment they effect their entrance, the heat of the sun finds admission too, and through the inlets thus made the fecundating air is introduced. These insects speedily consume the milky juice that constitutes the chief support of the fruit in its infant[1913] state, a result which would otherwise be spontaneously effected by absorption: and hence it is that in the plantations of figs a wild fig is usually allowed to grow, being placed to the windward of the other trees in order that the breezes may bear from it upon them. Improving upon this discovery, branches of the wild fig are sometimes brought from a distance, and bundles tied together are placed upon the cultivated tree. This method, however, is not necessary when the trees are growing on a thin soil, or on a site exposed to the north-east wind; for in these cases the figs will dry spontaneously, and the clefts which are made in the fruit effect the same ripening process which in other instances is brought about by the agency of these insects. Nor is it requisite to adopt this plan on spots which are liable to dust, such, for instance, as is generally the case with fig-trees planted by the side of much-frequented roads: the dust having the property of drying up[1914] the juices of the fig, and so absorbing the milky humours. There is this superiority, however, in an advantageous site over the methods of ripening by the agency of dust or by caprification, that the fruit is not so apt to fall; for the secretion of the juices being thus prevented, the fig is not so heavy as it would otherwise be, and the branches are less brittle.
All figs are soft to the touch, and when ripe contain grains[1915] in the interior. The juice, when the fruit is ripening, has the taste of milk, and when dead ripe, that of honey. If left on the tree they will grow old; and when in that state, they distil a liquid that flows in tears[1916] like gum. Those that are more highly esteemed are kept for drying, and the most approved kinds are put away for keeping in baskets.[1917] The figs of the island of Ebusus[1918] are the best as well as the largest, and next to them are those of Marrucinum.[1919] Where figs are in great abundance, as in Asia, for instance, huge jars[1920] are filled with them, and at Ruspina, a city of Africa, we find casks[1921] used for a similar purpose: here, in a dry state, they are extensively used instead of bread,[1922] and indeed as a general article of provision.[1923] Cato,[1924] when laying down certain definite regulations for the support of labourers employed in agriculture, recommends that their supply of food should be lessened just at the time[1925] when the fig is ripening: it has been a plan adopted in more recent times, to find a substitute for salt with cheese, by eating fresh figs. To this class of fruit belong, as we have already mentioned,[1926] the cottana and the carica, together with the cavnea,[1927] which was productive of so bad an omen to M. Crassus at the moment when he was embarking[1928] for his expedition against the Parthians, a dealer happening to be crying them just at that very moment. L. Vitellius, who was more recently appointed to the censorship,[1929] introduced all these varieties from Syria at his country-seat at Alba,[1930] having acted as legatus in that province in the latter years of the reign of Tiberius Cæsar.
CHAP. 22. (20.)—THREE VARIETIES OF THE MEDLAR.
The medlar and the sorb[1931] ought in propriety to be ranked under the head of the apple and the pear. Of the medlar[1932] there are three varieties, the anthedon,[1933] the setania,[1934] and a third of inferior quality, which bears a stronger resemblance to the anthedon, and is known as the Gallic[1935] kind. The setania is the largest fruit, and the palest in colour; the woody seed in the inside of it is softer, too, than in the others, which are of smaller size than the setania, but superior to it in the fragrance of their smell, and in being better keepers. The tree itself is one of very ample[1936] dimensions: the leaves turn red before they fall: the roots are numerous, and penetrate remarkably deep, which renders it almost impossible to grub it up. This tree[1937] did not exist in Italy in Cato’s time.
CHAP. 23. (21).—FOUR VARIETIES OF THE SORB.
There are four varieties of the sorb: there being some that have all the roundness[1938] of the apple, while others are conical like the pear,[1939] and a third sort are of an oval[1940] shape, like some of the apples: these last, however, are apt to be remarkably acid. The round kind is the best for fragrance and sweetness, the others having a vinous flavour; the finest, however, are those which have the stalk surrounded with tender leaves. A fourth kind is known by the name of “torminalis:”[1941] it is only employed, however, for remedial purposes.