The rhombo claimed the attention of the discriminating ichthyophagists of Rome by the delicacy of its flesh, and few fish would have been preferred to it had it not been feared that it rendered digestion difficult.[XXI-181] Some intrepid stomachs, however, greeted this dish without much repugnance when presented to them fried and sprinkled with pepper, in the midst of a seasoning in which pepper, cummin, coriander, benzoin, wild marjoram, and rue, heightened by a little vinegar, were mixed with dates, honey, cooked wine, and oil. This boiling sauce was poured over the rhombo, but not before it had been enriched with garum,[XXI-182] which we had almost forgotten--that inevitable brine which the ancient magiric genius placed everywhere, and whose prodigious renown ought to have preserved it from oblivion. MUGIL. This fish, singular instrument of a punishment invented by Rome,[XXI-183] entered into the bill of fare of a fashionable supper, but one without that magnificence which a feast of parade exacts. It was prepared with pepper, alisander, cummin, onion, mint, rue, sage, and dates, mixed with honey, vinegar, mustard, and oil.[XXI-184] The Greeks also esteemed mugils, and gave a preference to those sold by the fishermen of Scyathus.[XXI-185] MACKEREL. Commentators do not agree on the origin of this word. Scaliger, who perceived Greek in everything, says it is derived from _makarios_, “happy.” But, then, in what does the felicity of this fish consist? The old writer Belon, more wise in his conjecture, thinks this word comes from the Latin, _macularelli_, “little spots,” because it is marked on the back with black stripes.[XXI-186] Let the etymology be what it may, the epicurean cares very little about it. Mackerel was much liked in Greece, where it was believed to be a native of the Hellespont;[XXI-187] and throughout Italy, where it was supposed to come originally from Spain.[XXI-188] It is very probable that from mackerel was obtained one of the varieties of garum, known by the name of _garum sociorum_. Further on, we intend to devote a special chapter to the subject of this celebrated condiment. “Neither the size nor the weapons of mackerel make them formidable; they have, however, a violent appetite, and on account, perhaps, of the confidence they feel in the number of each shoal, they are bold and voracious, frequently attack fishes larger and stronger than themselves, and even dart with blind audacity upon the fishermen who bathe where they happen to be. Thus Pontoppidan relates that a sailor, bathing in the port of Carcule, in Norway, missing one of his companions, saw him a few minutes afterwards dead, the body mangled and covered with a multitude of mackerel, tearing his remains to pieces.”--DR. CLOQUET. HADDOCK.