The Romans had a word of contempt for the peoples of the north, and the word was milk-drinkers.
Homer had used it first, of the horse-milking Scythians. By the Roman period it was a settled sneer: the barbarian drinks milk, the civilised man eats bread and drinks wine, and you could tell a savage by the cup in his hand. Roman writers describe the Germans, the Britons and the Gauls drinking milk with the same faint disgust they reserved for trousers.
There was a reason the Roman did not drink it himself. Most adults around the Mediterranean could not. The gene that lets a grown man digest milk sugar was rare in Italy, and it still is: the majority of southern Italians today lose the ability in childhood, as most of the human race does. The peoples Rome called milk-drinkers carried the gene at rates that now run above 90% in Scandinavia, the Netherlands, Ireland and Britain, because among a cattle people the child who could keep drinking milk lived and the one who could not did not.
So the milk-drinker was a genuine biological difference, and Rome read it the wrong way round. The barbarian was drinking the most complete food a landscape can produce, straight from the animal, every day of his life. The Roman was eating the grain dole and calling that civilisation.
Two thousand years on, the tallest nations on earth are the descendants of the milk-drinkers, in the order Rome sneered at them: the Dutch, the Scandinavians, the Balkan herdsmen. The descendants of the bread-eaters are four inches shorter and still cannot drink a glass of it.
Every insult in the ancient world has faded except that one, which turned out to be a diagnosis.
Mike
Homer had used it first, of the horse-milking Scythians. By the Roman period it was a settled sneer: the barbarian drinks milk, the civilised man eats bread and drinks wine, and you could tell a savage by the cup in his hand. Roman writers describe the Germans, the Britons and the Gauls drinking milk with the same faint disgust they reserved for trousers.
There was a reason the Roman did not drink it himself. Most adults around the Mediterranean could not. The gene that lets a grown man digest milk sugar was rare in Italy, and it still is: the majority of southern Italians today lose the ability in childhood, as most of the human race does. The peoples Rome called milk-drinkers carried the gene at rates that now run above 90% in Scandinavia, the Netherlands, Ireland and Britain, because among a cattle people the child who could keep drinking milk lived and the one who could not did not.
So the milk-drinker was a genuine biological difference, and Rome read it the wrong way round. The barbarian was drinking the most complete food a landscape can produce, straight from the animal, every day of his life. The Roman was eating the grain dole and calling that civilisation.
Two thousand years on, the tallest nations on earth are the descendants of the milk-drinkers, in the order Rome sneered at them: the Dutch, the Scandinavians, the Balkan herdsmen. The descendants of the bread-eaters are four inches shorter and still cannot drink a glass of it.
Every insult in the ancient world has faded except that one, which turned out to be a diagnosis.
Mike
