"A POISONOUS MUSHROOM"
A fungus may be poisonous in various ways:
1. A distinct and certain deadly poison.
2. The cause of violent digestive or other functional disturbance, but not necessarily fatal.
3. The occasion of more or less serious physical derangement through mere indigestibility.
4. Productive of similar disorders through the employment of decayed or wormy specimens of perfectly esculent species.
5. These same esculent species, even in their fresh condition, may become highly noxious by contact or confinement with specimens of the Amanita by the absorption of its volatile poison, as further described on [p. 69.]
Concerning idiosyncrasy
And lastly comes the question of idiosyncrasy, a consideration which is of course not taken into account in our recommendation of certain well-established food varieties.
Decaying mushrooms
Fresh specimens
"One man's food another man's poison." The scent of the rose is sometimes a serious affliction, and even the delicious strawberry has repeatedly proven a poison. Even the most wholesome mushroom will occasionally require to be discriminated against, as certain individuals find it necessary to exclude cabbage, milk, onions, and other common food from their diet. When we reflect, moreover, that in its essential chemical affinities the fungus simulates animal flesh, and many of the larger and more solid varieties are similarly subject to speedy decomposition, it is obviously important that all fungi procured for the table should be collected in their prime, and prepared and served as quickly as possible. More than one case of supposed mushroom poisoning could be directly traced to carelessness in this regard, when the species themselves, in their proper condition, had been perfectly wholesome.
No general rule for identification
There can be no general rule laid down for the discrimination of an edible fungus. Each must be learned as a species, or at least familiarized as a kind, even as we learn to recognize certain flowers, trees, or birds.
Within a certain range this discrimination is practised by the merest child. How are the robin, the chippy, and the swallow recognized, or the red clover, and white clover, and yellow clover?
Simple botanical discrimination
Even in the instances of species which bear a very close outward similarity, how simple, after all, does the distinction become. Here, for instance, is the wild-lettuce, and its mimic, the mulgedium, growing side by side—to ninety-nine out of a hundred observers absolutely alike, and apparently the same species. But how readily are they distinguished, I will not say by the botanist merely, but by any one who will take the small pains of contrasting their specific botanical characters—perfectly infallible, no matter how various the masquerade of their foliage. The lettuce has yellow blossoms, and a seed prolonged into a long beak, to whose tip the feathery pappus is attached. The mulgedium has dull bluish flowers, and its pappus is attached to the seed by a hardly perceptible elongation. As with the birds and wild-flowers, so with the fungi: we must learn them as species, even as we learn to distinguish the difference between the trefoil of the clover and that of the wood-sorrel, or between the innocuous wild-carrot and the poison-hemlock, the harmless stag-horn sumach and its venomous congener, the Rhus venenata. There are parallel outward resemblances between esculent and poisonous fungi, but each possesses otherwise its own special features by which it may be identified—variations of gills, pores, spores, taste, odor, color, juice, consistency of pulp, method of decay, etc.
It must not be presumed that the list of edible species just cited from the catalogue of Dr. Curtis includes all the esculents among the fungi. Dr. Harkness has discovered and classified many others. Mr. Palmer and Prof. Charles Peck are never at a loss for their "mess of mushrooms" among their list of nearly a hundred species, while Mr. Charles McIlvaine, whose name, so far as its practical authority is concerned, should appear more prominently in my bibliographical list, but who has not yet incorporated his many mycological essays in book form, writes me that he has tested gastronomically a host of species, and has found over three hundred to be edible, or at least harmless. It may be said that the probabilities would include a large majority of the thousand species in the same category. But this is a matter which, in the absence of absolute knowledge, is mere conjecture.
Of the forty-odd species which the writer enjoys with more or less frequency at his table, he is satisfied that he can select at least thirty which possess such distinct and strongly marked characters of form, structure, and other special qualities as to enable them, by the aid of careful portraiture and brief description, to be easily recognized, even by a tyro.
As previously emphasized, the present work does not aim to be complete, nor does it contemplate a practical utility beyond its specific recommendations, nor will the author assume any responsibility for the hazard which shall exceed its restricted list of species.
Humanity and forbidden fruit
On general principles, however, considering the proneness of humanity towards the acquisition of forbidden fruit, and reasoning from my own actual experience, and that of many others to whom this fascinating hobby of epicurean fungology has become a growing passion, it may almost be assumed that the fungus appetite with many of my readers will increase by what it feeds on, and the sufficiency herewith offered will scarcely suffice. Like Oliver Twist, they must needs have more. The glory of a new acquisition to the fungus menu, and emulation of other rival tyro mycophagists, will doubtless lead many enthusiasts to more or less hazardous experiment among the legion of the unknown species. This logical tendency, then, must be met ere my book can safely and conscientiously be launched upon its career, to which purpose I would append the following condensed