Not Of Cabbages and Kings, But Rather Of Broccoli and Cauliflowers (and Queens)

One of my favorite passages in all Dunnett's work is the opening scene of Disorderly Knights (1966).  It briefly mentions the (historically accurate) marriage of character Will Scott to his aunt Grizel Beaton (the sister of his father's third wife).  The English are raiding nearby, so all the men dash out of the church immediately after the couple are proclaimed man and wife.  The bride takes it in stride, having expected something of the sort after "ten days ... of peace".

The text proceeds to describe the bride, "Duly packed like broccoli into lawn, buckram and plush and ropes of misshapen pearls, she had enjoyed the wedding..."

I've wondered about that broccoli.  What in heavens name is that simile all about?  I can sort of get the image of crowded florets intending buxomness, but -- hey, what's with the green?  And of course, that connotation of green infects my interpretation of "lawn". I've read enough historical novels to know that Dunnett means "a fine linen or cotton fabric used for making clothes" but every time I read this sentence, I jump to the image of a bridal party somehow wearing a kitchen garden.  And, detractors believe what you will, Dunnett is a better writer than that.

Finally I looked up the etymology of the word "broccoli", expecting to find some obsolete poetic meaning (which would be like Dunnett). Not so. "Broccoli" comes from the Latin broccus, for "extending" or "branches".  However, according to a couple of semi-reliable online sources, early northern Europeans confused broccoli and cauliflower, calling both by the same name.  And, apparently Catherine de Medici introduced the beloved Italian vegetable to the French Court sometime after her marriage to Henri II in 1533. (It was not introduced to England until the late 1600s, but the Scottish and French Courts were closely conjoined, in fact, intermarried.)

Now that makes Dunnett sense - the misuse of a word within the diegetic context -- Grizel Beaton was not a court member, so her knowledge of the vegetable would have been limited, but it would have been a hothouse, exotic item at the time.  And "Duly packed like cauliflower into lawn, buckram and plush...." aptly describes the many layers -- breasts, cotton chemise, buckram (padding) with a plush velvet overdress adorned with pearls.  Now I can see the white, upthrust cleavage of a pale, stocky, Scottish woman stuffed into an uncomfortable formal dress for her wedding.

I've much enjoyed scavenging the interweb for images of formal dresses from the mid-16th Century Scotland or France.  (Check out the V&A site for generally wonderful images of anything in their collections).  These two images are both from a German costuming site, and illustrate a cauliflower-like bosom. (The photo on the right/bottom is of "La Bella" -- Eleanora de Gonzaga, Duchess of Urbino -- by Titian. Less "cauliflower" than perhaps "milk pudding" in that case.)