There has been a class of men whose patriotic affection, or whose
general benevolence, have been usually defrauded of the gratitude their
country owes them: these have been the introducers of new flowers, new
plants, and new roots into Europe; the greater part which we now enjoy
was drawn from the luxuriant climates of Asia, and the profusion which
now covers our land originated in the most anxious nursing, and were the
gifts of individuals. Monuments are reared, and medals struck, to
commemorate events and names, which are less deserving our regard than
those who have transplanted into the colder gardens of the North the
rich fruits, the beautiful flowers, and the succulent pulse and roots of
more favoured spots; and carrying into their own country, as it were,
another Nature, they have, as old Gerard well expresses it, "laboured
with the soil to make it fit for the plants, and with the plants to make
them delight in the soil."
There is no part of the characters of PEIRESC and EVELYN, accomplished
as they are in so many, which seems more delightful to me, than their
enthusiasm for the garden, the orchard, and the forest.
PEIRESC, whose literary occupations admitted of no interruption, and
whose universal correspondence throughout the habitable globe was more
than sufficient to absorb his studious life, yet was the first man, as
Gassendus relates in his interesting manner, whose incessant inquiries
procured a great variety of jessamines; those from China, whose leaves,
always green, bear a clay-coloured flower, and a delicate perfume; the
American, with a crimson-coloured, and the Persian, with a
violet-coloured flower; and the Arabian, whose tendrils he delighted to
train over "the banqueting-house in his garden;" and of fruits, the
orange-trees with a red and parti-coloured flower; the medlar; the rough
cherry without stone; the rare and luxurious vines of Smyrna and
Damascus; and the fig-tree called Adam's, whose fruit by its size was
conjectured to be that with which the spies returned from the land of
Canaan. Gassendus describes the transports of Peiresc, when, the sage
beheld the Indian ginger growing green in his garden, and his delight in
grafting the myrtle on the musk vine, that the experiment might show us
the myrtle wine of the ancients. But transplanters, like other
inventors, are sometimes baffled in their delightful enterprises; and
we are told of Peiresc's deep regret when he found that the Indian
cocoa-nut would only bud, and then perish in the cold air of France,
while the leaves of the Egyptian papyrus refused to yield him their
vegetable paper. But it was his garden which propagated the exotic
fruits and flowers, which he transplanted into the French king's, and
into Cardinal Barberini's, and the curious in Europe; and these
occasioned a work on the manuring of flowers by Ferrarius, a botanical
Jesuit, who there described these novelties to Europe.
Had Evelyn only composed the great work of his "Sylva, or a Discourse of
Forest Trees," his name would have excited the gratitude of posterity.
The voice of the patriot exults in the dedication to Charles II.
prefixed to one of the later editions. "I need not acquaint your
majesty, how many millions of timber-trees, besides infinite others,
have been propagated and planted throughout your vast dominions, at the
instigation and by the sole direction of this work, because your majesty
has been pleased to own it publicly for my encouragement." And surely
while Britain retains her awful situation among the nations of Europe,
the "Sylva" of Evelyn will endure with her triumphant oaks. It was a
retired philosopher who aroused the genius of the nation, and who,
casting a prophetic eye towards the age in which we live, contributed to
secure our sovereignty of the seas. The present navy of Great Britain
has been constructed with the oaks which the genius of Evelyn planted!
Animated by a zeal truly patriotic, De Serres in France, 1599, composed
a work on the art of raising silk-worms, and dedicated it to the
municipal body of Paris, to excite the inhabitants to cultivate
mulberry-trees. The work at first produced a strong sensation, and many
planted mulberry-trees in the vicinity of Paris; but as they were not
yet used to raise and manage the silk-worm, they reaped nothing but
their trouble for their pains. They tore up the mulberry-trees they had
planted, and, in spite of De Serres, asserted that the northern climate
was not adapted for the rearing of that tender insect. The great Sully,
from his hatred of all objects of luxury, countenanced the popular
clamour, and crushed the rising enterprise of De Serres. The monarch was
wiser than the minister. The book had made sufficient noise to reach the
ear of Henry IV.; who desired the author to draw up a memoir on the
subject, from which the king was induced to plant mulberry-trees in all
the royal gardens; and having imported the eggs of silk-worms from
Spain, this patriotic monarch gave up his orangeries, which he
considered but as his private gratification, for that leaf which,
converted into silk, became a part of the national wealth. It is to De
Serres, who introduced the plantations of mulberry-trees, that the
commerce of France owes one of her staple commodities; and although the
patriot encountered the hostility of the prime minister, and the hasty
prejudices of the populace in his own day, yet his name at this moment
is fresh in the hearts of his fellow-citizens; for I have just received
a medal, the gift of a literary friend from Paris, which bears his
portrait, with the reverse, "_Société de Agriculture du Département de
la Seine_." It was struck in 1807. The same honour is the right of
Evelyn from the British nation.
There was a period when the spirit of plantation was prevalent in this
kingdom; it probably originated from the ravages of the soldiery during
the civil wars. A man, whose retired modesty has perhaps obscured his
claims on our regard, the intimate friend of the great spirits of that
age, by birth a Pole, but whose mother had probably been an
Englishwoman, Samuel Hartlib, to whom Milton addressed his tract on
education, published every manuscript he collected on the subjects of
horticulture and agriculture. The public good he effected attracted the
notice of Cromwell, who rewarded him with a pension, which after the
restoration of Charles II. was suffered to lapse, and Hartlib died in
utter neglect and poverty. One of his tracts is "A design for plenty by
an universal planting of fruit-trees." The project consisted in
inclosing the waste lands and commons, and appointing officers, whom he
calls fruiterers, or wood-wards, to see the plantations were duly
attended to. The writer of this project observes on fruits, that it is a
sort of provisions so natural to the taste, that the poor man and even
the child will prefer it before better food, "as the story goeth," which
he has preserved in these ancient and simple lines:--
The poor man's child invited was to dine,
With flesh of oxen, sheep, and fatted swine,
(Far better cheer than he at home could find,)
And yet this child to stay had little minde.
"You have," quoth he, "no apple, froise, nor pie,
Stewed pears, with bread and milk, and walnuts by."
The enthusiasm of these transplanters inspired their labours. They have
watched the tender infant of their planting, till the leaf and the
flowers and the fruit expanded under their hand; often indeed they have
ameliorated the quality, increased the size, and even created a new
species. The apricot, drawn from America, was first known in Europe in
the sixteenth century: an old French writer has remarked, that it was
originally not larger than a damson; our gardeners, he says, have
improved it to the perfection of its present size and richness. One of
these enthusiasts is noticed by Evelyn, who for forty years had in vain
tried by a graft to bequeath his name to a new fruit; but persisting on
wrong principles this votary of Pomona has died without a name. We
sympathise with Sir William Temple when he exultingly acquaints us with
the size of his orange-trees, and with the flavour of his peaches and
grapes, confessed by Frenchmen to have equalled those of Fontainebleau
and Gascony, while the Italians agreed that his white figs were as good
as any of that sort in Italy; and of his "having had the honour" to
naturalise in this country four kinds of grapes, with his liberal
distributions of cuttings from them, because "he ever thought all things
of this kind the commoner they are the better."
The greater number of our exotic flowers and fruits were carefully
transported into this country by many of our travelled nobility and
gentry;[67] some names have been casually preserved. The learned Linacre
first brought, on his return from Italy, the damask rose; and Thomas
Lord Cornwall, in the reign of Henry VIII., enriched our fruit gardens
with three different plums. In the reign of Elizabeth, Edward Grindal,
afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury, returning from exile, transported
here the medicinal plant of the tamarisk: the first oranges appear to
have been brought into England by one of the Carew family; for a century
after, they still flourished at the family seat at Beddington, in
Surrey. The cherry orchards of Kent were first planted about
Sittingbourne, by a gardener of Henry VIII.; and the currant-bush was
transplanted when our commerce with the island of Zante was first opened
in the same reign. The elder Tradescant, in 1620, entered himself on
board of a privateer, armed against Morocco, solely with a view of
finding an opportunity of stealing apricots into Britain: and it appears
that he succeeded in his design. To Sir Walter Raleigh we have not been
indebted solely for the luxury of the tobacco-plant, but for that
infinitely useful root, which forms a part of our daily meal, and often
the entire meal of the poor man--the potato, which deserved to have been
called a _Rawleigh_. Sir Anthony Ashley, of Winburne St. Giles,
Dorsetshire, first planted cabbages in this country, and a cabbage at
his feet appears on his monument: before his time we had them from
Holland. Sir Richard Weston first brought clover grass into England from
Flanders, in 1645; and the figs planted by Cardinal Pole at Lambeth, so
far back as the reign of Henry VIII., are said to be still remaining
there: nor is this surprising, for Spilman, who set up the first
paper-mill in England, at Dartford, in 1590, is said to have brought
over in his portmanteau the two first lime-trees, which he planted here,
and which are still growing. The Lombardy poplar was introduced into
England by the Earl of Rochford, in 1758. The first mulberry-trees in
this country are now standing at Sion-house. By an Harleian MS. 6884, we
find that the first general planting of mulberries and making of silk in
England was by William Stallenge, comptroller of the custom-house, and
Monsieur Verton, in 1608. It is probable that Monsieur Verton
transplanted this novelty from his own country, where we have seen De
Serres' great attempt. Here the mulberries have succeeded better than
the silk-worms.
The very names of many of our vegetable kingdom indicate their locality,
from the majestic cedar of Lebanon, to the small Cos-lettuce, which came
from the isle of Cos; the cherries from Cerasuntis, a city of Pontus;
the peach, or _persicum_, or _mala Persica_, Persian apples, from
Persia; the pistachio, or _psittacia_, is the Syrian word for that nut.
The chestnut, or _chataigne_ in French, and _castagna_ in Italian, from
Castagna, a town of Magnesia. Our plums coming chiefly from Syria and
Damascus, the damson, or damascene plum, reminds us of its distant
origin.
It is somewhat curious to observe on this subject, that there exists an
unsuspected intercourse between nations, in the propagation of exotic
plants. Lucullus, after the war with Mithridates, introduced cherries
from Pontus into Italy; and the newly-imported fruit was found so
pleasing, that it was rapidly propagated, and six-and twenty years
afterwards Pliny testifies the cherry-tree passed over into Britain.
Thus a victory obtained by a Roman consul over a king of Pontus, with
which it would seem that Britain could not have the remotest interest,
was the real occasion of our countrymen possessing cherry-orchards. Yet
to our shame must it be told, that these cherries from the king of
Pontus's city of Cerasuntis are not the cherries we are now eating; for
the whole race of cherry-trees was lost in the Saxon period, and was
only restored by the gardener of Henry VIII., who brought them from
Flanders--without a word to enhance his own merits, concerning the
_bellum Mithridaticum_!
A calculating political economist will little sympathise with the
peaceful triumphs of those active and generous spirits, who have thus
propagated the truest wealth, and the most innocent luxuries of the
people. The project of a new tax, or an additional consumption of ardent
spirits, or an act of parliament to put a convenient stop to population
by forbidding the banns of some happy couple, would be more congenial to
their researches; and they would leave without regret the names of those
whom we have held out to the grateful recollections of their country.
The Romans, who, with all their errors, were at least patriots,
entertained very different notions of these introducers into their
country of exotic fruits and flowers. Sir William Temple has elegantly
noticed the fact. "The great captains, and even consular men, who first
brought them over, took pride in giving them their own names, by which
they ran a great while in Rome, as in memory of some great service or
pleasure they had done their country; so that not only laws and battles,
but several sorts of apples and pears, were called Manlian and Claudian,
Pompeyan and Tiberian, and by several other such noble names." Pliny has
paid his tribute of applause to Lucullus, for bringing cherry and
nut-trees from Pontus into Italy. And we have several modern instances,
where the name of the transplanter, or rearer, has been preserved in
this sort of creation. Peter Collinson, the botanist, to "whom the
English gardens are indebted for many new and curious species which he
acquired by means of an extensive correspondence in America," was highly
gratified when Linnæus baptized a plant with his name; and with great
spirit asserts his honourable claim: "Something, I think, was due to me
for the great number of plants and seeds I have annually procured from
abroad, and you have been so good as to pay it, by giving me a species
of eternity, botanically speaking; that is, a name as long as men and
books endure." Such is the true animating language of these patriotic
enthusiasts!
Some lines at the close of Peacham's Emblems give an idea of an English
fruit-garden in 1612. He mentions that cherries were not long known,[68]
and gives an origin to the name of filbert.
The Persian Peach, and fruitful Quince;[69]
And there the forward Almond grew,
With Cherries knowne no longer time since;
The Winter Warden, orchard's pride;
The _Philibert_[70] that loves the vale,
And red queen apple,[71] so envide
Of school-boies, passing by the pale.