THE CHIEF ESCULENT PLANTS OF THE TORRID ZONE.
Rice--Various Aspect of the Rice-fields at different Seasons--The
Rice-Bird--Maize--First imported from America by Columbus--Its
enormous Productiveness--Its wide zone of Cultivation--Millet,
Dhourra--The Bread-Fruit Tree--The Bananas--Their ancient
Cultivation--Avaca or Manilla Hemp--Humboldt’s Remarks on the
Banana--The Traveller’s Tree of Madagascar--The Cassava Root--
Tapioca--Yams--Batatas--Arrowroot--Taro--Tropical Fruit Trees--
The Chirimoya--The Litchi--The Mangosteen--The Mango.
Of all the cereals there is none that affords food to so vast a
multitude as the rice-plant (_Oryza sativa_), on whose grains from
time immemorial the countless millions of south-eastern Asia chiefly
subsist. From its primitive seat, on the Ganges or the Sikiang, its
cultivation has gradually spread not only over the whole tropical zone,
but even far beyond its bounds, as it thrives both in the swamps of
South Carolina and in the rich alluvial plains of the Danube and the Po.
Along the low river banks, in the delta-lands which the rains of
the tropics annually change into a boundless lake, or where, by
artificial embankments, the waters of the mountain streams have been
collected into tanks for irrigation, the rice-plant attains its
utmost luxuriance of growth, and but rarely deceives the hopes of the
husbandmen.
The aspect of the lowland rice-fields of India and its isles is very
different at various seasons of the year. Where, in Java, for instance,
you see to-day long-legged herons gravely stalking over the inundated
plain partitioned by small dykes, or a yoke of indolent buffaloes
slowly wading through the mud, you will three or four months later be
charmed by the view of a gracefully undulating corn-field, bearing a
great resemblance to our indigenous barley. Cords, to which scare-crows
are attached traverse the field in every direction, and converge, to a
small watch-house, erected on high poles. Here the attentive villager
sits, like a spider in the centre of its web, and by pulling the cords,
puts them from time to time into motion, whenever the wind is unwilling
to undertake the office. Then the grotesque and noisy figures begin to
rustle and to caper, and whole flocks of the neat little rice-bird or
Java sparrow (_Loxia oryzivora_), rise on the wing, and hurry off with
all the haste of guilty fright. After another month has elapsed, and
the waters have long since evaporated or been withdrawn, the harvest
takes place, and the rice-fields are enlivened by a motley crowd, for
all the villagers, old and young, are busy reaping the golden ears.
[Illustration: JAVA SPARROW.]
The rice-fields offer a peculiarly charming picture when, as in the
mountain valleys of Ceylon, they rise in terraces along the slopes.
‘Selecting an angular recess where two hills converge, the Kandyans
construct a series of terraces, raised stage above stage, and retiring
as they ascend along the slope of the acclivity, up which they are
carried as high as the soil extends. Each terrace is furnished with
a low ledge in front, behind which the requisite depth of water is
retained during the germination of the seed, and what is superfluous
is permitted to trickle down to the one below it. In order to carry
on this peculiar cultivation the streams are led along the level of
the hills, often from a distance of many miles, with a skill and
perseverance for which the natives of these mountains have attained a
great renown.’
Maize is no less important to the rapidly-growing nations of America
than the rice-plant to the followers of Buddh or of Brama. The time
when the cereals of the old world were first transplanted from their
unknown Asiatic homes is, and ever will be, hidden in legendary
obscurity; but the epoch when maize was for the first time seen and
tasted by Europeans lies before us in the broad daylight of authentic
history. For, when Columbus discovered Cuba, in the year 1492, he found
maize cultivated by the Indians, and was equally pleased with the taste
of the roasted grains and astonished at their size. In the following
year, when he made his triumphant entry into Barcelona, and presented
his royal patrons--Ferdinand and Isabella--with specimens of the
various productions of the New World, the maize-spikes he laid down
before their throne, though but little noticed, were in reality of far
greater importance than the heaps of gold which were so falsely deemed
to be the richest prizes of his grand discovery. In this manner maize
was first conveyed from the New World to Spain, whence its cultivation
gradually extended over the tropical and temperate zones of the eastern
hemisphere. Round the whole basin of the Mediterranean, maize has found
a new home, and its grain now nourishes the Lombard and the Hungarian,
as it does the Egyptian fellah or the Syrian peasant.
While our northern cereals only produce a pleasing effect when covering
extensive fields, but are individually too insignificant to claim
attention, the maize-plant almost reminds the spectator of the lofty
Bambusaceæ of the tropical world. Even in our gardens it rises above a
man’s height, and in warmer countries not seldom attains the gigantic
stature of fourteen feet. Ensiform, dark green, lustrous leaves,
somewhat resembling those of the large oarweeds of the northern seas,
spring alternately from every joint of this cereal, streaming like
pennants and sharply rustling in the wind. The top produces a bunch of
male flowers of various colours, which is called the _tassel_. Each
plant likewise bears three or more spikes or ears, proceeding from
the stem, at various distances from the ground, and closely enveloped
by several thin leaves, forming a sheath, or _husk_. They consist of
a cylindrical substance of the nature of pith, which is called the
_cobb_, and over the entire surface of which the seeds are ranged and
fixed, in eight or more straight rows. Each of these has generally
as many as thirty or more seeds, and each seed weighs at least as
much as five or six grains of wheat or barley. Surely a cereal like
this deserves beyond all others to symbolise abundance, and, had it
been known to the Greeks, it would beyond all doubt have figured
conspicuously in the teeming horn of Amalthea.
In light sandy soils, under the scorching rays of the sun, and in
situations where sufficient moisture cannot be obtained for the
production of rice, numerous varieties of millet (_Sorghum vulgare_)
are successfully cultivated in many tropical countries--in India,
Arabia, the West Indies, in Central Africa, and in Nubia, where it is
grown almost to the exclusion of every other esculent plant. Though
the seeds are by much the smallest of any of the cereal plants, the
number borne upon each stalk is so great as to counterbalance this
disadvantage, and to render the cultivation of millet as productive as
that of any other grain.
The bread-fruit tree is the great gift of Providence to the fairest
isles of Polynesia. No fruit or forest tree in the north of Europe,
with the exception of the oak or linden, is its equal in regularity of
growth and comeliness of shape; it far surpasses the wild chestnut,
which somewhat resembles it in appearance. Its large oblong leaves
are deeply lobed like those of the fig-tree, which they resemble not
only in colour and consistence, but also in exuding a milky juice when
broken. About the time when the sun, advancing towards the Tropic of
Capricorn, announces to the Tahitians that summer is approaching, it
begins to produce new leaves and young fruits, which commence ripening
in October, and may be plucked about eight months long in luxuriant
succession. The fruit is about the size and shape of a new-born
infant’s head, with a thin skin, and a core about as big as the handle
of a small knife. The edible part, which lies between the skin and the
core, and is as white as snow, must be roasted before it is eaten; its
taste is insipid, with a slight sweetness, somewhat resembling that of
the crumb of wheaten bread mixed with boiled potatoes. When the season
draws to an end, the last fruits are laid in heaps, and closely covered
with leaves. In this state they undergo a fermentation and become
disagreeably sweet; the core is then taken out entire, which is done by
gently pulling out the stalk, and the rest of the fruit is thrown into
a hole, where it undergoes a second fermentation, and becomes sour,
after which it will suffer no change for many months. It is taken out
of the hole as it is wanted for use, and, being made into balls, it is
wrapped up in leaves and baked.
To procure this principal article of their food costs the fortunate
South Sea Islanders no more trouble than plucking and preparing it in
the manner above described; for, though the tree which produces it does
not grow spontaneously, yet, if a man plants but ten of them in his
lifetime, which he may do in about an hour, he will, as Cook remarks,
‘as completely fulfil his duty to his own and future generations, as
the native of our less genial climate by ploughing in the cold of
winter and reaping in the summer’s heat as often as the seasons return.’
Dampier (1688) is the first English writer that mentions the
bread-fruit tree, which he found growing in the Ladrones, and a few
years later Lord Anson enjoyed its fruits at Tinian, where they
contributed to save the lives of his emaciated and scurvy-stricken
followers. It continued, however, to remain unnoticed in Europe, until
the voyages of Wallis and Cook attracted the attention of the whole
civilized world to the fortunate islands, whose inhabitants, instead of
gaining their bread by the sweat of their brow, plucked it ready formed
from the teeming branches of their groves.
But the wonderful luxuriance of tropical vegetation is perhaps nowhere
more conspicuous and surprising than in the magnificent Musaceæ, the
banana (_Musa sapientum_), and the plantain (_Musa paradisiaca_),
whose fruits most probably nourished mankind long before the gifts of
Ceres became known. A succulent shaft or stem, rising to the height
of fifteen or twenty feet, and frequently two feet in diameter, is
formed of the sheath-like leaf-stalks rolled one over the other, and
terminating in enormous light-green and glossy blades, ten feet long
and two feet broad, of so delicate a tissue that the slightest wind
suffices to tear them transversely as far as the middle rib. A stout
foot-stalk arising from the centre of the leaves, and reclining over
one side of the trunk, supports numerous clusters of flowers, and
subsequently a great weight of several hundred fruits about the size
and shape of full-grown cucumbers. On seeing the stately plant, one
might suppose that many years had been required for its growth; and yet
only eight or ten months were necessary for its full development.
Each shaft produces its fruit but once, when it withers and dies;
but new shoots spring forth from the root, and, before the year has
elapsed, unfold themselves with the same luxuriance. Thus, without
any other labour than now and then weeding the field, fruit follows
upon fruit, and harvest upon harvest. A single bunch of bananas often
weighs from sixty to seventy pounds, and Humboldt has calculated that
thirty-three pounds of wheat and ninety-nine pounds of potatoes,
require the same space of ground to grow upon as will produce 4,000
pounds of bananas.
This prodigality of Nature, seemingly so favourable to the human race,
is however attended with great disadvantages; for where the life of man
is rendered too easy, his best powers remain dormant, and he almost
sinks to the level of the plant which affords him subsistence without
labour. Exertion awakens our faculties as it increases our enjoyments,
and well may we rejoice that wheat and not the banana ripens in our
fields.
As the seeds of the cultivated plantain and banana never or very rarely
come to maturity, they can only be propagated by suckers. ‘In both
hemispheres,’ says Humboldt, ‘as far as tradition or history reaches,
we find plantains cultivated in the tropical zone. It is as certain
that African slaves have introduced, in the course of centuries,
varieties of the banana into America, as that before the discovery of
Columbus the plantain was cultivated by the aboriginal Indians.
‘These plants are the ornaments of humid countries. Like the
farinaceous cereals of the north, they accompany man from the first
infancy of his civilisation. Semitical traditions place their original
home on the banks of the Euphrates; others, with greater probability,
at the foot of the Himalayas. According to the Greek mythology, the
plains of Enna were the fortunate birthplace of the cereals; but while
the monotonous fields of the latter add but little to the beauty of the
northern regions, the tropical husbandman multiplies in the banana one
of the noblest forms of vegetable life.’
The Musaceæ are not only useful to man by their mealy, wholesome, and
agreeable fruits, but also by the fibres of their long leaf-stalks.
Some species furnish filaments for the finest muslin, and the coarse
fibres of the _Musa textilis_, known in trade under the name of Manilla
hemp, serve for the preparation of very durable cordage.
To the same family of plants belongs also the traveller-tree of
Madagascar (_Ravenala speciosa_), one of those wonderful sources of
refreshment which Nature has provided for the thirsty wanderer in
the wilderness. The foot-stalks of the elliptical, alternate leaves
embrace the trunk with broad sheathes, in which the dew trickling from
their surface is collected. Thus the ravenala, the hollow baobab, the
pitcher-plant, and the juicy cactuses, all answer a similar purpose,
and it is impossible to say which of them is most to be admired.
Life and death are strangely blended in the Cassava or Mandioca root
(_Jatropha Manihot_); the juice a rapidly destructive poison, the
meal a nutritious and agreeable food, which, in tropical America, and
chiefly in Brazil, forms a great part of the people’s sustenance. The
height to which the cassava attains varies from four to six feet: it
rises by a slender, woody, knotted stalk, furnished with alternate
palmated leaves, and springs from a woody root, the slender collateral
fibres of which swell into those farinaceous parsnip-like masses, for
which alone the plant is cultivated. It requires a dry soil, and is not
found at a greater elevation than 2,000 feet above the level of the
sea. It is propagated by cuttings, which very quickly take root, and
in about eight months from the time of their being planted, the tubers
will generally be in a fit state to be collected; they may, however,
be left in the ground for many months without sustaining any injury.
The usual mode of preparing the cassava is to grind the roots after
peeling off the dark-coloured rind, to draw out the poisonous juice,
and finally to bake the meal into thin cakes on a hot iron hearth.
Fortunately the deleterious principle is so volatile as to be entirely
dissipated by exposure to heat; for when the root has been cut into
small pieces, and exposed during some hours to the direct rays of the
sun, cattle may be fed on it with perfect safety. If the recently
extracted juice be drunk by cattle or poultry, the animals soon die in
convulsions; but if this same liquid is boiled with meat and seasoned,
it forms a wholesome and nutritious soup. The _Jatropha Janipha_, or
Sweet Cassava, though very similar to the Manihot or bitter variety,
and wholly innocuous, is far less extensively cultivated.
The yam-roots, so frequently mentioned in narratives of travel through
the tropical regions, are the produce of two climbing plants--the
Dioscorea sativa and alata--with tender stems of from eighteen
to twenty feet in length, and smooth sharp-pointed leaves on long
foot-stalks, from the base of which arise spikes of small flowers. The
roots of the D. sativa are flat and palmated, about a foot in breadth,
white within and externally of a dark brown colour, those of the D.
alata, are still larger, being frequently about three feet long, and
weighing about thirty pounds. Both kinds are cultivated like the common
potato, which they resemble in taste, though of a closer texture.
The Dioscoreæ are natives of South Asia, and are supposed to have been
thence transplanted to the West Indies, as they have never been found
growing wild in any part of America; while in the island of Ceylon, and
on the coast of Malabar, they flourish in the woods with spontaneous
and luxurious growth.
The Spanish or Sweet Potato (_Convolvulus Batatas_), commonly
cultivated in the tropical climates both of the eastern and the
western hemispheres, is an herbaceous perennial, which sends out many
trailing stalks, extending six or eight feet every way, and putting
forth at each joint roots which in a genial climate grow to be very
large tubers, so that from a single plant forty or fifty large roots
are produced. The leaves are angular and stand on long petioles, the
flowers are purple. The batata is propagated by laying down the young
shoots in the spring; indeed in its native climate it multiplies almost
spontaneously, for if the branches of roots that have been pulled up
are suffered to remain on the ground, and a shower of rain falls soon
after, their vegetation will recommence.
Arrowroot is chiefly obtained from two different plants--the Marantha
arundinacea and the Tacca pinnatifida. The former a native of South
America, is an herbaceous perennial and is propagated by parting the
roots. It rises to the height of two or three feet, has broad pointed
leaves, and is crowned by a spike of small white flowers. It is much
cultivated, both for domestic use and for exportation in the West
Indies, and in some parts of Hindostan. The arrowroot is obtained
by first pounding the long stalky roots in a large wooden mortar,
and pouring a quantity of water over them. After the whole has been
agitated for some time, the starch, separated from the fibres, collects
at the bottom of the vessel, and, having been cleansed by repeated
washing, is dried in the sun.
The Tacca pinnatifida, likewise an herbaceous plant with pinnated
leaves, an umbelliform blossom, and large potato-like roots, is
scattered over most of the South Sea Islands. It is not cultivated in
the Hawaiian group, but found growing wild in abundance in the more
elevated districts, where it is satisfied with the most meagre soil,
and sprouts forth among the lava blocks of those volcanic islands.
Arrowroot is prepared from this plant in the same manner as from the
West Indian Marantha, but, as the improvident Polynesians only think
of digging it out of the earth, and never give themselves the trouble
of replanting the small and useless tubers, its quantity has very much
diminished.
The Caladium esculentum, an aquatic plant, furnishes the large Taro
roots which, boiled to a thick paste, form the chief food of the
Sandwich Islanders, and are extensively cultivated in many other groups
of the South Seas. It grows like rice on a marshy ground, the large
sagittated leaves rise on high foot-stalks, immediately springing from
the root, and are likewise very agreeable to the taste, but are more
seldom eaten, as they are used for propagation. Severed from the root,
they merely require to be planted in the mud to produce after six
months a new harvest of roots. The growth is so abundant that 1,500
persons can live upon the produce of a single square mile, so that
supposing the United Kingdom to be one vast taro-field, its surface
would be able to nourish about two thousand millions of souls.
As there is a mountain-rice which thrives without artificial
irrigation, there is also a mountain-taro (_Caladium cristatum_), which
resembles the former in general appearance, but prefers a more dry and
elevated soil. Although the plant grows wild both in the Society and
Marquesas Islands, yet Pitcairn’s Island was the only spot where Mr.
Bennett saw it cultivated.
But the possession of a plant which furnishes so much food with so
little labour, can hardly be considered as a benefit for the Sandwich
Islanders, whose natural indolence is too much encouraged by the
abundance it creates. The Hawaiian constantly sees before his eyes the
coffee-groves and sugar-plantations, the cotton and indigo fields,
which, cultivated by Chinese coolies, amply reward the enterprise of
the European and American settlers in his native land, and yet he
saunters by, too indolent even to stretch out his hand and gather the
berries from the trees.
It may easily be imagined that the tropical sun, which distils so
many costly juices and fiery spices in indescribable multiplicity and
abundance, must also produce a variety of fruits. But man has as yet
done but little to improve by care and art these gifts of Nature, and,
with rare exceptions, the delicious flavour for which our native fruits
are indebted to centuries of cultivation, is found wanting in those of
the torrid zone. In our gardens Pomona appears in the refined garb of
civilisation, while in the tropics she still shows herself as a savage
beauty, requiring the aid of culture for the full development of her
attractions.
Yet there are exceptions to the rule, and among others the Peruvian
Chirimoya (_Anona tripetala_) is vaunted by travellers in such terms of
admiration that it can hardly be inferior to and probably surpasses,
the most exquisite fruits of European growth. Hänke calls it, in one
of his letters, a masterpiece of Nature, and Tschudi says that its
taste is quite incomparable. It grows to perfection at Huanuco, where
it attains a weight of from fourteen to sixteen pounds. The fruit is
generally heart-shaped, with the broad base attached to the branch. The
rind is green, covered with small tubercles and scales, and encloses a
snow-white, juicy pulp, with many black kernels. Both the fruit and the
blossoms exhale a delightful odour. The tree is about twenty feet high,
and has a broad dull green crown.
In the eastern hemisphere, the litchi, the mangosteen, and the mango
enjoy the highest reputation.
The Litchi (_Nephelium Litchi_), a small insignificant tree, with
lanceolate leaves, and small greenish-white flowers, is a native of
China and Cochin-China, but its cultivation has spread over the East
and the West Indies. The plum-like scarlet fruit is generally eaten by
the Chinese to their tea, but it is also dried in ovens and exported.
In order to obtain the fruit in perfection, for the use of the Imperial
Court, the trees, as soon as they blossom, are conveyed from Canton to
Pekin on rafts, at a very great trouble and expense, so that the plums
may just be ripe on their arrival in the northern capital.
The beautiful Mangosteen (_Garcinia Mangostana_), a native of the
Moluccas, and thence transplanted to Java, Siam, the Philippines,
and Ceylon, resembles at a distance the citron-tree, and bears large
flowers like roses. The dark brown capsular fruit, about the size
of a small apple, is described as of unequalled flavour--juicy and
aromatic, like a mixture of strawberries, raspberries, grapes, and
oranges. It is said that the patient who has lost an appetite for
everything else still relishes the mangosteen, and that the case is
perfectly hopeless when he refuses even this.
The stately Mango (_Mangifera indica_) bears beautiful girandoles of
flowers, followed by large plum-like fruits, of which, however, but
four or five ripen on each branch. More than forty varieties are grown
at Kew, the finest of which are reserved for the Queen’s table. From
Ceylon, its original seat, the mango has been transplanted far and wide
over the torrid zone.
[Illustration: MANGOSTEEN.]
[Illustration: THE SUGAR CANE.]