KITCHEN VEGETABLES.
The greater part of our kitchen vegetables, that is to say those plants which, independently of the corn kinds, are cultivated as food in our gardens, are partly indigenous and partly foreign. Of the former many at present grow wild, such as asparagus; but by continued cultivation, through a long series of years, they have produced numerous varieties, which differ as much from the wild plants as the European females from those of New Zealand. Many of our indigenous vegetables are collected for food, but are not reared expressly for that purpose; and these even, in all probability, might be improved by culture. Some indeed are here and there reared in an artificial manner, though we reckon them among our weeds; for example, dandelion, Leontodon taraxacum, the first leaves of which in spring are employed in the northern countries as salad. In some parts of England this plant is sown throughout the whole summer; and its leaves being blanched, it is used in winter as endive. Culture frees many plants from their harsh taste, makes them tender, larger and more pulpy, and produces them at a season when the wild ones have become unfit for use.
Our foreign kitchen vegetables have, for the most part, been procured from the southern countries, but chiefly from Italy; and the number of them has increased in an uncommon degree in the course of the last two centuries. Many of them require laborious attention to make them thrive in our severe climate. On the other hand, some grow so readily, and increase so much without culture, even in the open fields, that they have become like indigenous weeds, as is the case with hops, which at present abound in our hedges. Some plants, however, both indigenous and foreign, which were formerly raised by art and used at the table, are no longer cultivated, because we have become acquainted with others more beneficial. Many of them served our forefathers in the room of foreign spices, to the use of which trading companies have accustomed us, much to their advantage and to our hurt. It is true also that many have been banished merely by fashion; for this tyrant, which rules with universal sway, commands the taste as well as the smell to consider as intolerable articles to which our ancestors had a peculiar attachment.
In the oldest times mankind were so fond of sweet things, that the goodness and agreeable taste of every kind of food was determined according to the degree of its sweetness; and such is the manner of judging even at present throughout all the East, in Africa, and in America. This is the case also among us with the greater part of the lower classes, who are not able to follow the mode of richer tables. In the northern countries this taste is almost everywhere prevalent. Thus the Swedes spoil, by the addition of sugar, costly Rhenish wine, sour kraut, and other articles, the agreeable tartness of which is gratifying to other nations. In proportion to their population and luxury, the Swedes seem to use more sugar than the Germans, and the Germans more than the English or French; and one might almost suspect that a taste for sweet things were in the inverse ratio of civilization[843]. At any rate, one can thus explain why many vegetable productions, which some centuries ago were reckoned among the most agreeable dishes, appear to us to be nauseously sweet. Skirret, which the emperor Tiberius caused to be brought for the use of his table from the Rhine, is little relished at present; and the case is the same with parsnips, some kinds of apples, and several other things.
Fashion sometimes recalls into use species long forgotten, and with the greatest success, when they are introduced under a different name. Thus, after an interval of many years, some began to cultivate again monks-rhubarb[844], and to recommend this sourish plant instead of the more savoury spinage. According to Bock, it was transplanted in the middle ages by the monks from the woods into gardens, to which it has been again brought back under the imposing appellation of English spinage.
Before the commencement of the Christian æra, when the use of sensual enjoyments was not so well-regulated and modified by religious and political principles, many vegetables and other dishes were praised and recommended by writers on agriculture and cookery, as well as by the most favourite poets and eminent authors, on account of effects which cannot at present be named, except in the writings of physicians, without disgusting the reader and incurring the imputation of indelicacy. When this mode of thinking began to prevail, people detested to see in their gardens or on their tables plants which, in consequence of indecent properties, were generally known; and by being thus disused, the knowledge of them was at length so much lost, that we know only their old names, and what the ancients have related respecting them. In this manner, many receipts in Apicius are totally unintelligible, because we are no longer acquainted with the things for the preparation of which he gives directions. Of this kind are the numerous bulbous roots (bulbi), which formed the most favourite dishes of the Greeks and the Romans, and which at present no botanist, much less commentator, would be able to determine. They belong to the lost arts, but not to those which were abandoned because better ones were found to supply their place. The American vanilla, which perhaps was indebted only to its high price for the permission of being mixed with chocolate, does not certainly supply the place of the ancient Megarean bulbs, as our gunpowder does that of the Greek fire.
Among those kitchen vegetables which were formerly cultivated, but at present are no more esteemed, are the following:—Winter-cresses[845], an indigenous plant, the young leaves of which, like water-cresses, may be eaten in winter as salad; also common alexanders[846], which in the seventeenth century was used instead of celery; bulbous chærophyllum[847], the roots of which are still brought to market at Vienna, where people well know what is good, and where they are boiled and eaten as salad with vinegar and oil. Rampion[848] was formerly used in the like manner. The earth-nut[849], which grows wild in many parts of Germany, is still cultivated in Holland and in some districts on the Rhine. Rocket (Eruca sativa), the young leaves of which were readily eaten by our forefathers as salad, is no longer esteemed, partly on account of its harsh taste, and partly on account of its nauseous smell, which resembles that of rancid bacon; it has however been still retained in Italy, “excitet ut Veneri tardos eruca maritos[850].” Vetches (Lathyrus sativus, and Cicer) are now banished from our gardens, as experience has shown that they are prejudicial to the health. When pepper was so dear, that to promise a saint yearly a pound of it was considered as a liberal bequest, economical housewives seasoned their dishes with the leaves of pepper-wort (Lepidium latifolium), which on this account is called at present in England poor man’s pepper.
Borage (Borago officinalis), since the fourteenth, or at least the fifteenth century, has been sown not only for medicinal purposes, but for the use of the kitchen. The young leaves, which however soon become hard, rough, and unfit for the table, were used in soup, and the beautiful blue flowers were put into salad and wine. This plant was not known to the ancients; for the conjecture that it was what they called buglossum, is not very probable. As far as I have been able to learn, Nicholas Myrepsus, who lived in the beginning of the fourteenth century, is the first who uses the name πουράκιον, which certainly means borago. But who knows whence this writer, who introduces in his works a great many new inexplicable names, some of them formed from the Greek, Latin, and Italian, obtained that appellation? Some of the old botanists have conjectured that it is derived from the word corago, which Apuleius, whose period is uncertain, gives as a synonym of buglossum. Some think that the reading in Apuleius ought to be borago; and others assert that corago is the true name, and arose from the quality which the plant has of strengthening the heart; consequently we ought properly to read corago, and not borago[851]. It is probable that our forefathers, under the idea that their borage was the buglossum of the ancients, and therefore had the property of strengthening the heart, threw the flowers into wine, that their spirits might by these means be more enlivened. Our borage is certainly a foreign plant, and Cæsalpinus said that it was brought from other countries to Italy. Linnæus[852] positively states that it first came from Aleppo; but I have not yet been able to find on what authority this assertion is founded. At present borage, at least in the German cookery, is no longer used.
Among the kitchen vegetables of which no certain traces are to be found in the works of the ancients, is spinage (Spinacea oleracea). Its native country is unknown; but the name is new, and certainly derived from the nature of its prickly seeds. As far as I know, it first occurs in the year 1351, among the food used by the monks on fast-days[853]; and at that time it was Spinargium or Spinachium. Meursius found in the middle ages σπινάκιον, in a poem which he has often mentioned, but not defined with sufficient accuracy[854]. This plant seems to have been made known from Spain; for many of the old botanists, such for example as Bock, call it olus Hispanicum. Ruellius and others name it Atriplex Hispaniensis; and the latter adds, that the Arabians or Moors called it Hispanach, which signifies Spanish plant; it is however well known that formerly everything foreign was styled Spanish. None of the kitchen vegetables of the ancients seem to approach nearer to spinage than their Blitum, which Rondolet considered to be the same. But all the properties assigned to this vegetable production, namely, that it was insipid, and that on this account it was necessary to render it palatable by the addition of vinegar, pepper, and other things; that it readily multiplied; that it was indigestible and gently aperient; perfectly correspond, not only with our spinage, but with many other plants, such, for example, as our beet and orach, and the good king Henry (Chenopodium bonus Henricus), the young leaves of which are still dressed as spinage. It is also possible that the blitum of the ancients may have been a kind of Amaranthus, some species of which are certainly eatable. Blitum, therefore, will remain as difficult to be defined as the malva, which was used at the same time.
The Brassicæ of the ancients belonged certainly to the cabbage genus; yet no one, as far as I know, has examined botanically what is said of them, and completely proved their identity. It would however be fruitless labour to attempt to apply our modern names to the cabbage kinds of the ancients, and search out in the writings of the Greeks and the Romans those which we use at present; for by continued culture, through so many ages and in so many countries, new varieties have from time to time arisen, and old ones must have become lost; so that it is impossible for us to have all the varieties of the ancients, as it was for them to be acquainted with the whole of those produced in our times. I cannot therefore venture to assert that we still possess that kind of cabbage which the ancients, to prevent intoxication, ate raw like salad[855]. We can dress in this manner cabbage heads when they are chopped fine, but we do not know with certainty whether the ancients were acquainted with our cabbage; though Ruellius, not without probability, considered as such that species which in the time of Pliny was known under the name of lacuturris[856].
But even if this be admitted as true, we nowhere find any traces of that excellent preparation of cabbage called by the Germans sour kraut; though the ancients were acquainted with the art of preparing turnips in the same manner[857]. I should have been inclined to consider sour kraut as a German invention, first made in Lower Saxony, which our neighbours learnt from us in modern times, had not Bellon[858] related that the Turks are accustomed to pickle cabbage for winter food. It appears, however, that these people take the whole heads, as in Germany, but particularly in Upper more than Lower Saxony, some preserve kumskohl, a name which, as well as compost and the French word compote, Frisch derives with great probability from compositum (preserved).
The ancients were acquainted with curled cabbage, and even with some of those kinds which we call broccoli. Under this term is understood all those species, the numerous young flowery heads of which, particularly in spring and autumn, can be used like cauliflowers. Such young shoots are called cymæ, but not turiones; for the latter term denotes the first shoots that arise, like those of hops, asparagus, and other esculent plants. The broccoli used at present was however first brought from Italy to France, together with the name, about the end of the sixteenth century[859].
Our cauliflower, about the end of the same century, was first brought from the Levant to Italy; and in the end of the seventeenth was transplanted thence to Germany. For a long time the seeds were procured annually from Cyprus, Candia, and Constantinople, by the Venetians and Genoese, who sent them to every part of Europe, because at that time the art of raising seed was not understood[860]. Prosper Alpinus, in the year 1588, found abundance of this vegetable in Egypt, and from his account there is reason to conjecture that it was then very little known in Europe. Conrad Gesner seems not to have been acquainted with it; at any rate it is not mentioned by him in a list of the cabbage kind of plants[861]. Even in the time of Bauhin it must have belonged to those vegetables which were scarce; because he has been so particular in naming the garden in which he saw it. Von Hohberg, who wrote about 1682, says that cauliflower, a few years before, had been brought to Germany for the first time[862].
It would be difficult to define all the species of the cabbage kind, the leaves and flowers of which were used by the ancients as food; but it would be a task still more arduous to determine those which have esculent roots. To render this clear, and to show what information I have been able to obtain on the subject by my researches, I must venture to indulge in a little botanical criticism. Our plant-connoisseurs have unfortunately not yet condescended to examine the class of kitchen vegetables; though it would certainly be rendering a far greater service to botany, and promote its utility much more, to describe and delineate all the species, varieties, and deviations, than to give new names to a dozen of new genera from Polynesia. According to the Linnæan system, we have at present the following species of the cabbage, which have been adopted by all botanists, without further observation.
First, Brassica oleracea, to which belong all those kinds the leaves and flowers of which are eaten. It is certainly probable that all these have been gradually produced from one parent stock, which it is now impossible perhaps to find in its original wild state. A similarity is remarked between all these kinds; and with a little ingenuity one might form a genealogical tree of them, as Buffon has done in regard to the race of dogs; but a genealogical tree without proofs is of as little value in natural history as in claims for hereditary titles or estates. At present, in our system, we must admit that such plants as always grow up from their seeds, without variation, and do not pass into other forms, are peculiar species; but this will not prove that these supposed species were not originally produced from one maternal stem; for the variation of the succeeding plants took place gradually; and the later ones always deviated more and more from the parent stock. Who knows how many steps and gradations were necessary before cabbage, savoys, and cauliflower were produced from our common colewort? Not fewer, perhaps, than were required to produce white men from Moors, or the terrier and lap-dog from the bull-dog.
I shall call the mother plant, or original species, A, which by unknown causes has produced B, and the latter by continued and frequently changed culture has become C; from this has been produced D, and from this E, and from this F, &c. Now as we are unacquainted with the art of changing A into F, and F into A, we believe that F is a species really different from A. As we here compare two distant links of a chain, the various parts of which increase very gradually, we find them so different, that it is impossible for us to consider them as the same. But sometimes, perhaps, F changes again into E; E into D; D into C; and C into B or into A. Perhaps also B may be again produced from A, or F from E. Had a botanist observed this by experience, he probably would have no hesitation to consider B, C, D, E, and F as varieties of A. But such observations seldom occur; we have not the power of making them according to our pleasure, for we do not know all the causes by which these numerous variations are produced. The few observations which have been made no one has yet collected, compared, and employed for establishing any certain conclusions. The division, therefore, of the cultivated plants into species and varieties would be a fruitless and uncertain undertaking, respecting which one ought not to dispute without sufficient proofs.
It is needless to refer to the form, colour, smell, and taste of the leaves, flowers, and roots. That the indented leaves, such as those which all the cabbage species have, are most liable to change, is shown by experience. The colour is no less variable; and Reichard, who had a great belief in the perpetuity of the species of plants, asserts, that in the same country and climate he could produce from the seeds of red cabbage and black radishes, white cabbage and white radishes[863]. The production and change of the hermaphrodite plants is so well known that it is only necessary to mention them. The smell, for example; but the musky smell of cabbage establishes no essential difference. Nay, a plant may entirely lose its odorous principle, spiritus rector, and yet retain its old form, as well as all its other component parts and properties[864]. In sandy soil the smell of plants is often entirely lost; and the taste is frequently changed, according to the nature of the land and the manure. The most powerful medicinal plants are those which grow wild in their native country, and not those reared in rich gardens, where many poisonous plants become eatable. Even the duration does not always determine the difference of the species. Thus it is certain that winter and summer rape are the same plants, though the former is a biennial and the latter an annual. Where then are the proofs in regard to the cabbage kind, and, in general, those which show that different plants are species of one genus, and others only varieties? Precision or certainty in systems can be expected only by novices; but in botany the case is the same as in every other science, mathematics excepted; the more we learn, the more uncertainty we discover, and the more circumscribed is the real knowledge which we acquire. It is necessary that this should be known to those who may take the trouble to examine the history of kitchen vegetables and other œconomical plants; and therefore I shall offer no apology for having entered into this botanical disquisition.
To the Brassica oleracea belong two plants which are used in the same manner as turnips or roots. The first is the turnip-cabbage, kohlrabi above the earth (Brassica gongylodes), the stem of which swells out, above the earth, into a thick pulpy turnip-like tubercle, which is dressed and eaten in the same manner as turnips. It is a monstrous excrescence of the stem, which is hereditary, like the broad stem of the Italian fennel. This turnip-cabbage was certainly not known to the ancients; it occurs for the first time among the botanists of the sixteenth century. Spielmann conjectures that it was brought from the Levant during the crusades; but it was known at too late a period to warrant this opinion.
Still newer is that variety called kohlrabi, subterranean or turnip-rooted cabbage, the stem of which produces a similar tubercle at the surface of the earth or immediately under it. In my opinion, it was first described by Caspar Bauhin, in the year 1620, under the name napo-brassica, which it still retains, as a new species, to which he was not able to assign any synonyms. He says that this turnip was cultivated on the Bohemian frontiers, where it was called Dorsen or Dorschen; and the same name is given to it there at present, as is confirmed by Mehler, in whose work there is a good figure of it[865]. In Germany it is commonly called Steckrübe, and, as is said, was first made known there about the year 1764 by the Bohemian glass-dealers.
The second cabbage species in the Linnæan system is the Brassica napus, a plant which grows wild on the sandy sea-coasts of England, as well as in the island of Gothland, and which in many of the northern countries is cultivated for the oil obtained from the seeds, under the name of winter and summer rape. When thinly planted in a nourishing soil it produces esculent roots, which have a somewhat harsh taste, and properly in German it ought to be called Steckrübe. Such is the name given to it in the works of all the old writers by whom it was first mentioned; and it is called so at present in Bohemia, where it is cultivated, as well as kohlrabi under the earth, which in some parts of Germany is improperly named Steckrübe, and a proper distinction is made between the two species[866]. This kind, the real Steckrübe, is never very thick, being only of the size of those which grow in the Mark. The leaves arise immediately from the roots, but in the gongylodes and napo-brassica they proceed from the stem.
This species of turnip I did not expect to find among the ancients. I conceived that it might perhaps have been produced in the northern countries, since rape began to be cultivated for oil. Afterwards this plant may have become so much domesticated among us, as to be found not unfrequently in a wild state. Some person may then have easily remarked the pulpy roots of plants growing in a manured soil, and making a trial of them found them well-tasted. When first cultivated, it must have been observed that their harsh taste was moderated, sometimes more and sometimes less, in a sandy soil, and rendered in some degree aromatic; by which means they acquired so great a superiority to the common and almost insipid rape, that they were brought to the first-rate tables under the name of the Markish, Teltow, Borsfeld, Bobenhäuser and Wilhelmsburg rapes. In each country they were named after those places where they acquired the best savour; and this was the case only where the soil consisted of clay mixed with more or less sand. From such districts large quantities of them were sent to a great distance; but perhaps never in more abundance than from Teltow, in the Middle Mark, which small town sold to the amount of more than two thousand dollars, chiefly to Berlin and Hamburg; and from Hamburg these agreeable roots were frequently sent to both the Indies. Around Stendal also, in the Old Mark, they were raised in considerable quantity, but the seeds are procured there from Teltow[867]. If we wish to introduce them into our gardens, we must either mix much sand with the soil, or procure fresh seeds annually.
The Greeks and the Romans had little occasion for cultivating rape. They had other vegetables, from the seeds or fruit of which they could obtain a better oil, and in more abundance. Where the olive would not thrive, they cultivated, as at present, sesamum; or expressed oil from the nuts and seeds of the turpentine tree[868], without speaking of the many essential oils which they used for salves.
But however probable this may appear, I am inclined to suspect, that under βουνιὰς and napus our steckrüben are to be understood, as most of the old botanists have admitted; and that the roots of them were used for food, before the seeds were employed for making oil. The napus of the ancients had long thin roots, which were so small that they could be preserved without being cut into slices; on the other hand, the rapa had large conical roots, which could not be preserved till they were sliced. The napus, because the roots grew chiefly downwards, were sown thicker than the rapum. The napus was cultivated only for the use of man; but the rapum was raised in great abundance as fodder for cattle. Of the napus there were many known varieties, of different degrees of goodness, which, as is the case at present with steckrüben, were named from the place where they chiefly grew. When sown late in the season, they were injured by the earth-flea; to prevent which, the young plants were strewed over with soot. Both the napi and rapa were buried in the earth, where they were kept in a fresh state during the winter. The former, to prevent them from degenerating, required careful cultivation; and indeed there are few kitchen vegetables which so easily change their state, according to the nature of the soil, as the steckrüben.
But what opinion can be formed of the assertion, often repeated, that brassica napus, and rapum, or rapa, readily change into each other; consequently are only varieties or deviations of the same species[869]? I am not disposed to declare this assertion to be altogether false; though I will not vouch for the possibility of converting our Markish rapes into turnips or cabbage. I conjecture that in the oldest times, when these three plants were not so far separated from each other by intermediate species or degrees of degeneration, as they had a greater resemblance to each other, and were all nearer to the original species, such transitions were easier than they possibly could be at present.
The third species of cabbage in the Linnæan system, belonging to this place, is the Brassica rapa, or turnip, the roots of which, more or less conical, differ in figure, colour and taste[870]. That these roots are the same as those called by the Romans rapa, and by the Greeks γογγύλη or γογγυλὶς, appears to be subject to no doubt, though at present we may have a greater number of varieties.
[The turnip was well-known to the Romans, and all that can be gathered on this subject from the writings of the ancients renders it probable that it occupied nearly the same place in Roman culture as it does in British husbandry at the present day. Columella[871] recommended that the growth of turnips should be abundant, because those which were not required for human food could be given with much advantage to cattle; and both he and Pliny concur in their testimony, that this produce was esteemed next to corn in utility and value. The best grew in the country of the Sabines, and were worth at Rome a sestertius, or 2d. each[872].
It is stated that the Roman method of cultivation must have been superior to that of the moderns, since Pliny relates that some single roots weighed as much as forty pounds, a weight far surpassing any which has been obtained by the most skilful modern agriculturists. It is very probable that the garden culture of the turnip was introduced by the Romans into this country, and that, like some of the fruit trees which they had transplanted here, though neglected, it was never altogether lost. There is no doubt that this root was in cultivation in the sixteenth century. Whether revived by native industry, or introduced at that period by the Flemings, is a question differently answered by different writers. Towards the latter end of the sixteenth century it is mentioned by more than one writer. Cogan, in his Haven of Health, published in 1597, says, that “although many men love to eat turnips, yet do swine abhor them.” Gerarde, who published in the same year, and who had rather more rational views on the subject of plants, leads us to conclude that more than one variety was cultivated in the environs of London at that time. “The small turnips,” says he, “grown by a village near London, called Hackney, in a sandie ground, and brought to the crosse in Cheapside by the women of the village to be solde, are the best that I ever tasted.” Gerarde is silent concerning the field culture of turnips; neither is this mentioned by Parkinson, who wrote in 1629. We do not find any account of the root being grown in any part of the country until the close of the seventeenth century (loc. sup. citat.). Turnips sometimes attain a very large size in this country; Tull[873] speaks of some weighing as much as nineteen pounds, and of often meeting with others of sixteen pounds. One was dug up in Surrey, in July 1828, which weighed twenty-one pounds, and was one yard in circumference[874]. Our more immediate ancestors appear to have applied the turnip to more extensive uses as an esculent than is done at present. It is stated, that in 1629 and 1630, when there was a dearth in England, very good, white, lasting and wholesome bread was made of boiled turnips, deprived of their moisture by pressure, and then kneaded with an equal quantity of wheaten flour. The same was had recourse to in Essex in 1693[875].]
The question whether the Greeks and the Romans were acquainted with our carrots[876], seems to be attended with more difficulties than might be expected. Whoever wishes to answer it fully, and at the same time explain the information of the ancients, and examine the opinions of the botanists of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries (for the modern botanists give themselves very little trouble in regard to such researches), must enter into a disquisition of such length as might be agreeable perhaps to few readers. I shall however here state what I think I know, and however little it may be, it will perhaps afford some assistance to those who are desirous to illustrate the works of the ancient physicians and agriculturists.
Dioscorides, who, next to Theophrastus among the Greeks, possessed the greatest share of botanical knowledge, was certainly acquainted with our carrot, and gave it the name of staphylinos. For this plant, he says, like dill, bears umbellæ consisting of white flowers, which in the middle are of a purple red or almost saffron red colour. Our carrots, it is well known, have these characteristics, before the umbellæ, towards the time of their ripening, form themselves into a nidus. The plant meant by Dioscorides grew wild, but was reared in gardens, on account of its esculent root; and our carrots are certainly descended from plants which grew wild, though Miller, author of the Gardener’s Dictionary, could not succeed in rendering the small pungent roots eatable by culture.
We must believe Columella and Pliny, that the staphylinos of the Greeks was, in their time, called pastinaca; though they give no information from which it can be concluded that their pastinaca was our carrot. The former speaks of it as a plant useful to bees, which is the case also with our wild and cultivated carrots. Afterwards he tells us that it was cultivated like siser. Those therefore have erred who consider siser and pastinaca as the same plant, and believe it to be our liquorice.
That staphylinus, or patinaca, or our carrot, was by the Greeks called also daucus, is asserted by Pliny, as well as Galen; and in the Geoponica, daucon is named among the kitchen vegetables. But Dioscorides seems to make a difference between staphylinus and daucon, as he treats of them in different sections. He however says that daucon is like staphylinus, and has also a white umbella. Daucon perhaps may have signified a peculiar variety of carrot.
In the last place, that the pastinacæ, or carrots, were named also carotæ, is mentioned by Apicius. This word is derived perhaps from κάρτον, which in Athenæus denotes the large roots of the staphylinus, and also from κέρας, which occurs in Hesychius and Apuleius as a synonym of pastinaca, staphylinus, and daucion; but it is possible that all these words may have been corrupted by transcribers. The Germans and French however have thence formed the appellation carrottes. But κάρος, a plant which Galen[877] names along with the roots of the staphylinus and daucus, signified, undoubtedly, our caraway (Carum Carvi). Dioscorides says that the spicy aromatic seeds of the κάρος were used, and that the roots also were boiled and eaten like carrots. Pliny calls the plant careum. The Greeks and the Romans therefore were acquainted with our carrots; but in my opinion they were far less used in cookery and as fodder for cattle than they are at present, otherwise they must have more frequently occurred in the works of the ancients.
But whether, under the term pastinaca, the ancients did not sometimes understand our parsnip, I will not venture to determine. I can only assert, with some degree of probability, that the latter is by Dioscorides called elaphoboscon, a name which occurs also in Pliny. The former says expressly that this plant had umbellæ with yellow flowers, and large white sweet roots fit to be eaten. Now among our umbelliferous plants, besides dill, fennel and lovage, the parsnip is the only one which has yellow flowers; at any rate I know of no other with yellow flowers and esculent roots. If the parsnip had no other names among the Greeks and the Romans, it must have been very little used by them; for it is mentioned only by Dioscorides and Pliny. At present we know that it forms excellent fodder for black cattle, sheep and swine.
It needs however excite little wonder that it is so difficult to discover these plants in the works of the Greeks and the Romans. They all belong to one natural order, the species of which can with difficulty be distinguished by the most expert botanist. I mean to say, that all the umbelliferous plants are so like to each other, that they may be readily confounded. This difficulty is still further increased by the old physicians, who used a great many plants of this kind, and named them after the kitchen vegetables to which they had a resemblance, so that by these means plants totally different occur under the same name. To distinguish these, it is necessary first to examine which of them was a kitchen vegetable, and which was used in medicine.
Among our kitchen vegetables, as among the spices, there are many kinds which, at first, were known only on account of their medicinal properties, but afterwards were esteemed and cultivated on account of their good taste. Of this kind is the scorzonera[878], which became first known in the middle of the sixteenth century, in Spain, where it was considered as an antidote to the poison of a snake called there scurzo. A Moor, who had learnt this property of it in Africa, cured with the juice of the leaves and the roots a great many peasants bitten by snakes while mowing; but he would not discover the plant, that he might retain all the advantage to himself. Some persons, however, who followed him to the mountains, where he collected it, observed that it was the Scurzonera, or Scorzonera hispanica, so called from the name of the snake. Petrus Cannizer transmitted the plant, together with a drawing of it, to John Odorich Melchior, physician to the queen of Bohemia; and the latter sent what he had obtained to Matthioli, who at that time was not acquainted with it[879]. Soon after the roots were extolled in a particular tract by Nicholas Monardes, as a powerful remedy for the poison of snakes[880]. It is probable also that these roots were first used in Spain as food, and about the beginning of the sixteenth century were carried thence to France. The anonymous author of the well-known work Le Jardinier François, who was a gardener, and dealt in trees and seeds at Paris, boasts of having been the first who introduced these roots into the French gardens. The first edition of his book, which greatly contributed to improve gardening in France, was printed in 1616. At present the roots of the scorzonera are to be found in most gardens, but no one places faith in their medicinal virtue; and when they are occasionally prescribed by any physician for a ptisan perhaps, the other kind, the Scorzonera humilis, is preferred, though in the apothecaries’ shops the Spanish, taken from the gardens, is used in its stead[881].
Among our species of the Allium genus, shallots, in consequence of their mild taste, are preferred. There can be no doubt that this name, as well as the French échalotte, is derived from Ascalonia; and the above species in the system is called Allium ascalonicum[882]. Theophrastus, Pliny, Columella, Apicius, and others, speak of a species called ascalonia, brought from the city of Ascalon, in Palestine, as we are told by Pliny, Strabo, and Stephanus. The last-mentioned author states it as a report, that the first bulbs were observed in that neighbourhood. These names are found in the oldest catalogues of the German garden vegetables. There is sufficient reason also to conjecture that our shallots were the ascaloniæ of the ancients, and that they came originally from Palestine; especially as Hasselquist found the same species growing there wild. An important doubt, however, against this opinion arises from what is said by Theophrastus and Pliny; namely, that their ascaloniæ could not be propagated by bulbs, but by seeds[883]; on the other hand, our shallots in Germany, and perhaps in every other part of Europe, never come to flower, and are obtained only by the bulbs; so that Linnæus procured the first flowers, through Hasselquist, from Palestine. But why should not all the other allium species be propagated by planting the bulbs?
[The kitchen-gardens of England were as scantily supplied with vegetables, until about the end of the sixteenth century, as the pleasure-grounds were with shrubs and flowers. “It was not,” says Hume, “till the end of the reign of Henry VIII. that any salads, carrots, turnips or other edible roots were produced in England; the little of these vegetables that was used was imported from Holland and Flanders. Queen Catherine, when she wanted a salad, was obliged to despatch a messenger thither on purpose.” Hume is not however quite correct in this point. Our ancestors, before Henry VIIIth’s time, had always their winter-cresses and water-cresses, and common Alexanders, which served them for celery; they had rampion and rocket; borage for their cool tankard, and amaranthus and goose-foot, or good Henry with sprout-kales, which they used as greens. Their fruits were neither numerous nor good, being chiefly confined to gooseberries, currants and strawberries; the apples and pears were generally indifferent, and their plums and cherries bad; although the latter are supposed to have been planted in this country so early as the year 800, at which time they were brought from Italy.
The most important of kitchen vegetables of the present day is certainly the potato. There is scarcely a doubt of the potato being a native of South America, and its existing in a wild state in elevated places in the tropical regions and in the more temperate districts of the western coast of that country. It appears probable that it was first brought into Europe from the mountainous parts of South America in the neighbourhood of Quito, to Spain, early in the sixteenth century; they were here called papas. From Spain they were carried to Italy, and there received the same name as the truffle, taratoufli. From Italy they went to Vienna, through the governor of Mons in Hainault, who sent some to Clusius in 1598. The potato arrived in England from North America, being brought from Virginia by the colonists sent out by Sir Walter Raleigh in 1584, and who returned in July 1586, and in all probability brought back the potato with them. Such is the opinion of Sir Joseph Banks; moreover, in De Bry’s Collection of Voyages[884], he describes a plant called openawk, which is in all probability identical with the potato. Gerarde, in his herbal, published in 1597, figures the potato, under the name of the potato of Virginia, whence he says he received the roots. The potato was first cultivated in Ireland by the grandfather of Sir Robert Southwell, from tubers given him by Sir W. Raleigh. Some time after, they were grown in Lancashire, as some say, being conveyed there through a shipwreck; thence their culture has gradually diffused itself throughout the country.
The great dependence for nourishment placed in the potato by so many of the poor, has been lately exhibited in the great distress caused by the disease of the crops. In addition to its use as a direct article of food, the potato is applied to furnish starch, which is not unfrequently substituted for arrow-root and sugar.
In the year 1619, the common market-price of the potato was 1s. per lb.]