PRELIMINARY REMARKS ON THE NUMBER AND PARENTAGE OF CULTIVATED PLANTS — FIRST STEPS IN CULTIVATION — GEOGRAPHICAL DISTRIBUTION OF CULTIVATED PLANTS.
CEREALIA. DOUBTS ON THE NUMBER OF SPECIES — WHEAT: VARIETIES OF — INDIVIDUAL VARIABILITY — CHANGED HABITS — SELECTION — ANCIENT HISTORY OF THE VARIETIES — MAIZE: GREAT VARIATION OF — DIRECT ACTION OF CLIMATE ON.
CULINARY PLANTS. — CABBAGES: VARIETIES OF, IN FOLIAGE AND STEMS, BUT NOT IN OTHER PARTS — PARENTAGE OF — OTHER SPECIES OF BRASSICA — PEAS: AMOUNT OF DIFFERENCE IN THE SEVERAL KINDS, CHIEFLY IN THE PODS AND SEED — SOME VARIETIES CONSTANT, SOME HIGHLY VARIABLE — DO NOT INTERCROSS — BEANS — POTATOES: NUMEROUS VARIETIES OF — DIFFERING LITTLE EXCEPT IN THE TUBERS — CHARACTERS INHERITED.
I shall not enter into so much detail on the variability of cultivated plants, as in the case of domesticated animals. The subject is involved in much difficulty. Botanists have generally neglected cultivated varieties, as beneath their notice. In several cases the wild prototype is unknown or doubtfully known; and in other cases it is hardly possible to distinguish between escaped seedlings and truly wild plants, so that there is no safe standard of comparison by which to judge of any supposed amount of change. Not a few botanists believe that several of our anciently cultivated plants have become so profoundly modified that it is not possible now to recognise their aboriginal parent-forms. Equally perplexing are the doubts whether some of them are descended from one species, or from several inextricably commingled by crossing and variation. Variations often pass into, and cannot be distinguished from, monstrosities; and monstrosities are of little significance for our purpose. Many varieties are propagated solely by grafts, buds, layers, bulbs, etc., and frequently it is not known how far their peculiarities can be transmitted by seminal generation. Nevertheless, some facts of value can be gleaned: and other facts will hereafter be incidentally given. One chief object in the two following chapters is to show how many characters in our cultivated plants have become variable.
Before entering on details a few general remarks on the origin of cultivated plants may be introduced. M. Alph. De Candolle in an admirable discussion on this subject, in which he displays a wonderful amount of knowledge, gives a list of 157 of the most useful cultivated plants. Of these he believes that 85 are almost certainly known in their wild state; but on this head other competent judges entertain great doubts. Of 40 of them, the origin is admitted by M. De Candolle to be doubtful, either from a certain amount of dissimilarity which they present when compared with their nearest allies in a wild state, or from the probability of the latter not being truly wild plants, but seedlings escaped from culture. Of the entire 157, 32 alone are ranked by M. De Candolle as quite unknown in their aboriginal condition. But it should be observed that he does not include in his list several plants which present ill-defined characters, namely, the various forms of pumpkins, millet, sorghum, kidney-bean, dolichos, capsicum, and indigo. Nor does he include flowers; and several of the more anciently cultivated flowers, such as certain roses, the common Imperial lily, the tuberose, and even the lilac, are said not to be known in the wild state.
From the relative numbers above given, and from other arguments of much weight, M. De Candolle concludes that plants have rarely been so much modified by culture that they cannot be identified with their wild prototypes. But on this view, considering that savages probably would not have chosen rare plants for cultivation, that useful plants are generally conspicuous, and that they could not have been the inhabitants of deserts or of remote and recently discovered islands, it appears strange to me that so many of our cultivated plants should be still unknown or only doubtfully known in the wild state. If, on the other hand, many of these plants have been profoundly modified by culture, the difficulty disappears. The difficulty would also be removed if they have been exterminated during the progress of civilisation; but M. De Candolle has shown that this probably has seldom occurred. As soon as a plant was cultivated in any country, the halfcivilised inhabitants would no longer have need to search the whole surface of the land for it, and thus lead to its extirpation; and even if this did occur during a famine, dormant seeds would be left in the ground. In tropical countries the wild luxuriance of nature, as was long ago remarked by Humboldt, overpowers the feeble efforts of man. In anciently civilised temperate countries, where the whole face of the land has been greatly changed, it can hardly be doubted that some plants have become extinct; nevertheless De Candolle has shown that all the plants historically known to have been first cultivated in Europe still exist here in the wild state.
MM. Loiseleur-Deslongchamps and De Candolle have remarked that our cultivated plants, more especially the cereals, must originally have existed in nearly their present state; for otherwise they would not have been noticed and valued as objects of food. But these authors apparently have not considered the many accounts given by travellers of the wretched food collected by savages. I have read an account of the savages of Australia cooking, during a dearth, many vegetables in various ways, in the hopes of rendering them innocuous and more nutritious. Dr. Hooker found the half-starved inhabitants of a village in Sikhim suffering greatly from having eaten arum-roots, which they had pounded and left for several days to ferment, so as partially to destroy their poisonous nature; and he adds that they cooked and ate many other deleterious plants. Sir Andrew Smith informs me that in South Africa a large number of fruits and succulent leaves, and especially roots, are used in times of scarcity. The natives, indeed, know the properties of a long catalogue of plants, some having been found during famines to be eatable, others injurious to health, or even destructive to life. He met a party of Baquanas who, having been expelled by the conquering Zulus, had lived for years on any roots or leaves which afforded some little nutriment and distended their stomachs, so as to relieve the pangs of hunger. They looked like walking skeletons, and suffered fearfully from constipation. Sir Andrew Smith also informs me that on such occasions the natives observe as a guide for themselves, what the wild animals, especially baboons and monkeys, eat. From innumerable experiments made through dire necessity by the savages of every land, with the results handed down by tradition, the nutritious, stimulating, and medicinal properties of the most unpromising plants were probably first discovered. It appears, for instance, at first an inexplicable fact that untutored man, in three distant quarters of the world, should have discovered, amongst a host of native plants, that the leaves of the teaplant and mattee, and the berries of the coffee, all included a stimulating and nutritious essence, now known to be chemically the same. We can also see that savages suffering from severe constipation would naturally observe whether any of the roots which they devoured acted as aperients. We probably owe our knowledge of the uses of almost all plants to man having originally existed in a barbarous state, and having been often compelled by severe want to try as food almost everything which he could chew and swallow.
From what we know of the habits of savages in many quarters of the world, there is no reason to suppose that our cereal plants originally existed in their present state so valuable to man. Let us look to one continent alone, namely, Africa: Barth states that the slaves over a large part of the central region regularly collect the seeds of a wild grass, the Pennisetum distichum; in another district he saw women collecting the seeds of a Poa by swinging a sort of basket through the rich meadow-land. Near Tete, Livingstone observed the natives collecting the seeds of a wild grass, and farther south, as Andersson informs me, the natives largely use the seed of a grass of about the size of canary-seed, which they boil in water. They eat also the roots of certain reeds, and every one has read of the Bushmen prowling about and digging up with a fire-hardened stake various roots. Similar facts with respect to the collection of seeds of wild grasses in other parts of the world could be given.
Accustomed as we are to our excellent vegetables and luscious fruits, we can hardly persuade ourselves that the stringy roots of the wild carrot and parsnip, or the little shoots of the wild asparagus, or crabs, sloes, etc., should ever have been valued; yet, from what we know of the habits of Australian and South African savages, we need feel no doubt on this head. The inhabitants of Switzerland during the Stone-period largely collected wild crabs, sloes, bullaces, hips of roses, elderberries, beechmast, and other wild berries and fruit. Jemmy Button, a Fuegian on board the 'Beagle,' remarked to me that the poor and acid black-currants of Tierra del Fuego were too sweet for his taste.
The savage inhabitants of each land, having found out by many and hard trials what plants were useful, or could be rendered useful by various cooking processes, would after a time take the first step in cultivation by planting them near their usual abodes. Livingstone states that the savage Batokas sometimes left wild fruit-trees standing in their gardens, and occasionally even planted them, "a practice seen nowhere else amongst the natives." But Du Chaillu saw a palm and some other wild fruit-trees which had been planted; and these trees were considered private property. The next step in cultivation, and this would require but little forethought, would be to sow the seeds of useful plants; and as the soil near the hovels of the natives would often be in some degree manured, improved varieties would sooner or later arise. Or a wild and unusually good variety of a native plant might attract the attention of some wise old savage; and he would transplant it, or sow its seed. That superior varieties of wild fruit-trees occasionally are found is certain, as in the case of the American species of hawthorns, plums, cherries, grapes, and hickories, specified by Professor Asa Gray. Downing also refers to certain wild varieties of the hickory, as being "of much larger size and finer flavour than the common species." I have referred to American fruit-trees, because we are not in this case troubled with doubts whether or not the varieties are seedlings which have escaped from cultivation. Transplanting any superior variety, or sowing its seeds, hardly implies more forethought than might be expected at an early and rude period of civilisation. Even the Australian barbarians "have a law that no plant bearing seeds is to be dug up after it has flowered;" and Sir G. Grey never saw this law, evidently framed for the preservation of the plant, violated. We see the same spirit in the superstitious belief of the Fuegians, that killing water-fowl whilst very young will be followed by "much rain, snow, blow much." I may add, as showing forethought in the lowest barbarians, that the Fuegians when they find a stranded whale bury large portions in the sand, and during the often-recurrent famines travel from great distances for the remnants of the half-putrid mass.
It has often been remarked that we do not owe a single useful plant to Australia or the Cape of Good Hope, countries abounding to an unparalleled degree with endemic species,—or to New Zealand, or to America south of the Plata; and, according to some authors, not to America northward of Mexico. I do not believe that any edible or valuable plant, except the canary-grass, has been derived from an oceanic or uninhabited island. If nearly all our useful plants, natives of Europe; Asia, and South America, had originally existed in their present condition, the complete absence of similarly useful plants in the great countries just named would be indeed a surprising fact. But if these plants have been so greatly modified and improved by culture as no longer closely to resemble any natural species, we can understand why the above-named countries have given us no useful plants, for they were either inhabited by men who did not cultivate the ground at all, as in Australia and the Cape of Good Hope, or who cultivated it very imperfectly, as in some parts of America. These countries do yield plants which are useful to savage man; and Dr. Hooker enumerates no less than 107 such species in Australia alone; but these plants have not been improved, and consequently cannot compete with those which have been cultivated and improved during thousands of years in the civilised world.
The case of New Zealand, to which fine island we as yet owe no widely cultivated plant, may seem opposed to this view; for, when first discovered, the natives cultivated several plants; but all inquirers believe, in accordance with the traditions of the natives, that the early Polynesian colonists brought with them seeds and roots, as well as the dog, which had been wisely preserved during their long voyage. The Polynesians are so frequently lost on the ocean that this degree of prudence would occur to any wandering party: hence the early colonists of New Zealand, like the later European colonists, would not have had any strong inducement to cultivate the aboriginal plants. According to De Candolle we owe thirty-three useful plants to Mexico, Peru, and Chile; nor is this surprising when we remember the civilised state of the inhabitants, as shown by the fact of their having practised artificial irrigation and made tunnels through hard rocks without the use of iron or gunpowder, and who, as we shall see in a future chapter, fully recognised, as far as animals were concerned, and therefore probably in the case of plants, the important principle of selection. We owe some plants to Brazil; and the early voyagers, namely, Vespucius and Cabral, describe the country as thickly peopled and cultivated. In North America the natives cultivated maize, pumpkins, gourds, beans, and peas, "all different from ours," and tobacco; and we are hardly justified in assuming that none of our present plants are descended from these North American forms. Had North America been civilised for as long a period, and as thickly peopled, as Asia or Europe, it is probable that the native vines, walnuts, mulberries, crabs, and plums, would have given rise, after a long course of cultivation, to a multitude of varieties, some extremely different from their parent-stocks; and escaped seedlings would have caused in the New, as in the Old World, much perplexity with respect to their specific distinctness and parentage.'
Cerealia. —I will now enter on details. The cereals cultivated in Europe consist of four genera—wheat, rye, barley, and oats. Of wheat the best modern authorities make four or five, or even seven distinct species; of rye, one; of barley, three; and of oats, two, three, or four species. So that altogether our cereals are ranked by different authors under from ten to fifteen distinct species. These have given rise to a multitude of varieties. It is a remarkable fact that botanists are not universally agreed on the aboriginal parent-form of any one cereal plant. For instance, a high authority writes in 1855, "We ourselves have no hesitation in stating our conviction, as the result of all the most reliable evidence, that none of these Cerealia exist, or have existed, truly wild in their present state, but that all are cultivated varieties of species now growing in great abundance in S. Europe or W. Asia." On the other hand, Alph. De Candolle has adduced abundant evidence that common wheat (Triticum vulgare) has been found wild in various parts of Asia, where it is not likely to have escaped from cultivation: and there is some force in M. Godron's remark, that, supposing these plants to be escaped seedlings, as they have propagated themselves in a wild state for several generations, their continued resemblance to cultivated wheat renders it probable that the latter has retained its aboriginal character. But the strong tendency to inheritance, which most of the varieties of wheat evince, as we shall presently see, is here greatly undervalued. Much weight must also be attributed to a remark by Professor Hildebrand that when the seeds or fruit of cultivated plants possess qualities disadvantageous to them as a means of distribution, we may feel almost sure that they no longer retain their aboriginal condition. On the other hand, M. De Candolle insists strongly on the frequent occurrence in the Austrian dominions of rye and of one kind of oats in an apparently wild condition. With the exception of these two cases, which however are rather doubtful, and with the exception of two forms of wheat and one of barley, which he believes to have been found truly wild, M. De Candolle does not seem fully satisfied with the other reported discoveries of the parent-forms of our other cereals. With respect to oats, according to Mr. Buckmann, the wild English Avena fatua can be converted by a few years of careful cultivation and selection into forms almost identical with two very distinct cultivated races. The whole subject of the origin and specific distinctness of the various cereal plants is a most difficult one; but we shall perhaps be able to judge a little better after considering the amount of variation which wheat has undergone.
Metzger describes seven species of wheat, Godron refers to five, and De Candolle to only four. It is not improbable that, besides the kinds known in Europe, other strongly characterised forms exist in the more distant parts of the world; for Loiseleur-Deslongchamps speaks of three new species or varieties, sent to Europe in 1822 from Chinese Mongolia, which he considers as being there indigenous. Moorcroft also speaks of Hasora wheat in Ladakh as very peculiar. If those botanists are right who believe that at least seven species of wheat originally existed, then the amount of variation in any important character which wheat has undergone under cultivation has been slight; but if only four or a lesser number of species originally existed, then it is evident that varieties have arisen so strongly marked, that they have been considered by capable judges as specifically distinct. But the impossibility of deciding which forms ought to be ranked as species and which as varieties, makes it useless to specify in detail the differences between the various kinds of wheat. Speaking generally, the organs of vegetation differ little; but some kinds grow close and upright, whilst others spread and trail along the ground. The straw differs in being more or less hollow, and in quality. The ears differ in colour and in shape, being quadrangular, compressed, or nearly cylindrical; and the florets differ in their approximation to each other, in their pubescence, and in being more or less elongated. The presence or absence of barbs is a conspicuous difference, and in certain
Gramineæ serves even as a generic character; although, as remarked by Godron, the presence of barbs is variable in certain wild grasses, and especially in those such as Bromus secalinus and Lolium temulentum, which habitually grow mingled with our cereal crops, and which have thus unintentionally been exposed to culture. The grains differ in size, weight, and colour; in being more or less downy at one end, in being smooth or wrinkled, in being either nearly globular, oval, or elongated; and finally in internal texture, being tender or hard, or even almost horny, and in the proportion of gluten which they contain.
Nearly all the races or species of wheat vary, as Godron has remarked, in an exactly parallel manner,—in the seed being downy or glabrous, and in colour,—and in the florets being barbed or not barbed, etc. Those who believe that all the kinds are descended from a single wild species may account for this parallel variation by the inheritance of a similar constitution, and a consequent tendency to vary in the same manner; and those who believe in the general theory of descent with modification may extend this view to the several species of wheat, if such ever existed in a state of nature.
Although few of the varieties of wheat present any conspicuous difference, their number is great. Dalbret cultivated during thirty years from 150 to 160 kinds, and excepting in the quality of the grain they all kept true; Colonel Le Couteur possessed upwards of 150, and Philippar 322 varieties. As wheat is an annual, we thus see how strictly many trifling differences in character are inherited through many generations. Colonel Le Couteur insists strongly on this same fact. In his persevering and successful attempts to raise new varieties, he found that there was only one "secure mode to ensure the growth of pure sorts, namely, to grow them from single grains or from single ears, and to follow up the plan by afterwards sowing only the produce of the most productive so as to form a stock." But Major Hallett has gone much farther, and by the continued selection of plants from the grains of the same ear, during successive generations, has made his 'Pedigree in Wheat' (and other cereals) now famous in many quarters of the world. The great amount of variability in the plants of the same variety is another interesting point, which would never have been detected except by an eye long practised to the work; thus Colonel Le Couteur relates that in a field of his own wheat, which he considered at least as pure as that of any of his neighbours, Professor La Gasca found twenty-three sorts; and Professor Henslow has observed similar facts. Besides such individual variations, forms sufficiently well marked to be valued and to become widely cultivated sometimes suddenly appear: thus Mr. Shirreff has had the good fortune to raise in his lifetime seven new varieties, which are now extensively grown in many parts of Britain
As in the case of many other plants, some varieties, both old and new, are far more constant in character than others. Colonel Le Couteur was forced to reject some of his new sub-varieties, which he suspected had been produced from a cross, as incorrigibly sportive. On the other hand Major Hallett has shown how wonderfully constant some varieties are, although not ancient ones, and although cultivated in various countries. With respect to the tendency to vary, Metzger gives from his own experience some interesting facts: he describes three Spanish sub-varieties, more especially one known to be constant in Spain, which in Germany assumed their proper character only during hot summers; another variety kept true only in good land, but after having been cultivated for twenty-five years became more constant. He mentions two other sub-varieties which were at first inconstant, but subsequently became, apparently without any selection, accustomed to their new homes, and retained their proper character. These facts show what small changes in the conditions of life cause variability, and they further show that a variety may become habituated to new conditions. One is at first inclined to conclude with Loiseleur-Deslongchamps, that wheat cultivated in the same country is exposed to remarkably uniform conditions; but manures differ, seed is taken from one soil to another, and, what is far more important, the plants are exposed as little as possible to struggle with other plants, and are thus enabled to exist under diversified conditions. In a state of nature each plant is confined to that particular station and kind of nutriment which it can seize from the other plants by which it is surrounded.
Wheat quickly assumes new habits of life. The summer and winter kinds were classed by Linnæus as distinct species; but M. Monnier has proved that the difference between them is only temporary. He sowed winter-wheat in spring, and out of one hundred plants four alone produced ripe seeds; these were sown and resown, and in three years plants were reared which ripened all their seed. Conversely, nearly all the plants raised from summer-wheat, which was sown in autumn, perished from frost; but a few were saved and
produced seed, and in three years this summer-variety was converted into a winter-variety. Hence it is not surprising that wheat soon becomes to a certain extent acclimatised, and that seed brought from distant countries and sown in Europe vegetates at first, or even for a considerable period, differently from our European varieties. In Canada the first settlers, according to Kalm, found their winters too severe for winter-wheat brought from France, and their summers often too short for summer-wheat; and they thought that their country was useless for corn crops until they procured summer-wheat from the northern parts of Europe, which succeeded well. It is notorious that the proportion of gluten differs much under different climates. The weight of the grain is also quickly affected by climate: Loiseleur-Deslongchamps sowed near Paris 54 varieties, obtained from the South of France and from the Black Sea, and 52 of these yielded seed from 10 to 40 per cent heavier than the parent-seed. He then sent these heavier grains back to the South of France, but there they immediately yielded lighter seed.
All those who have closely attended to the subject insist on the close adaptation of numerous varieties of wheat to various soils and climates even within the same country; thus Colonel Le Couteur says, "It is the suitableness of each sort to each soil that will enable the farmer to pay his rent by sowing one variety, where he would be unable to do so by attempting to grow another of a seemingly better sort." This may be in part due to each kind becoming habituated to its conditions of life, as Metzger has shown certainly occurs, but it is probably in main part due to innate differences between the several varieties.
Much has been written on the deterioration of wheat; that the quality of the flour, size of grain, time of flowering, and hardness, may be modified by climate and soil, seems nearly certain; but that the whole body of any one sub-variety ever becomes changed into another and distinct sub-variety, there is no reason to believe. What apparently does take place, according to Le Couteur, is, that some one sub-variety out of the many which may always be detected in the same field is more prolific than the others, and gradually supplants the variety which was first sown.
With respect to the natural crossing of distinct varieties the evidence is conflicting, but preponderates against its frequent occurrence. Many authors maintain that impregnation takes place in the closed flower, but I am sure from my own observation that this is not the case, at least with those varieties to which I have attended. But as I shall have to discuss this subject in another work, it may be here passed over.
In conclusion, all authors admit that numerous varieties of wheat have arisen; but their differences are unimportant, unless, indeed, some of the so-called species are ranked as varieties. Those who believe that from four to seven wild species of Triticum originally existed in nearly the same condition as at present, rest their belief chiefly on the great antiquity of the several forms. It is an important fact, which we have recently learnt from the admirable researches of Heer, that the inhabitants of Switzerland, even so early as the Neolithic period, cultivated no less than ten cereal plants, namely, five kinds of wheat, of which at least four are commonly looked at as distinct species, three kinds of barley, a panicum, and a setaria. If it could be shown that at the earliest dawn of agriculture five kinds of wheat and three of barley had been cultivated, we should of course be compelled to look at these forms as distinct species. But, as Heer has remarked, agriculture even at the Neolithic period, had already made considerable progress; for, besides the cereals, peas, poppies, flax, and apparently apples, were cultivated. It may also be inferred, from one variety of wheat being the so called Egyptian, and from what is known of the native country of the panicum and setaria, as well as from the nature of the weeds which then grew mingled with the crops, that the lake-inhabitants either still kept up commercial intercourse with some southern people or had originally proceeded as colonists from the South.
Loiseleur-Deslongchamps has argued that, if our cereal plants have been greatly modified by cultivation, the weeds which habitually grow mingled with them would have been equally modified. But this argument shows how completely the principle of selection has been overlooked. That such weeds have not varied, or at least do not vary now in any extreme degree, is the opinion of Mr. H. C. Watson and Professor Asa Gray, as they inform me; but who will pretend to say that they do not vary as much as the individual plants of the same sub-variety of wheat? We have already seen that pure varieties of wheat, cultivated in the same field, offer many slight variations, which can be selected and separately propagated; and that occasionally more strongly pronounced variations appear, which, as Mr. Shirreff has proved, are well worthy of extensive cultivation. Not until equal attention be paid to the variability and selection of weeds, can the argument from their constancy under unintentional culture be of any value. In accordance with the principles of selection we can understand how it is that in the several cultivated varieties of wheat the organs of vegetation differ so little; for if a plant with peculiar leaves appeared, it would be neglected unless the grains of corn were at the same time superior in quality or size. the selection of seed-corn was strongly recommended in ancient times by Columella and Celsus; and as Virgil says,—
"I've seen the largest seeds, tho' view'd with care, Degenerate, unless th' industrious hand
Did yearly cull the largest."
But whether in ancient times selection was methodically pursued we may well doubt, when we hear how laborious the work has been found by Le Coutour and Hallett. Although the principle of selection is so important, yet the little which man has effected, by incessant efforts during thousands of years, in rendering the plants more productive or the grains more nutritious than they were in the time of the old Egyptians, would seem to speak strongly against its efficacy. But we must not forget that at each successive period the state of agriculture and the quantity of manure supplied to the land will have determined the maximum degree of productiveness; for it would be impossible to cultivate a highly productive variety, unless the land contained a sufficient supply of the necessary chemical elements.
We now know that man was sufficiently civilised to cultivate the ground at an immensely remote period; so that w