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KEEP in the hearts of all
men, however high may be the culture to which they have attained, or
however wrapt they may be in those pursuits — be they politics, or
commerce, or literature — which seem farthest removed from all communion
with nature — deep in all hearts (often indeed so deep, that seldom or
never does it consciously reveal itself) there lurks, I believe, a love
of the beauty of things in a wild and free state, unaffected by any
human influence. Thus it is that the wild grandeur of the mountains, and
the almost monotonous immensity of the sea, are so attractive; and it is
doubtless this same feeling which makes it so difficult to effect the
civilization —within a few generations at least—of savage tribes.
But, in civilized nations, it is the naturalist—not the mere classifier
of species, nor he who gathers together a collection of objects of
natural history as he would a collection of postage stamps, coins, or
old china, but the true lover of nature—who is the chief inheritor of
this love of the wild freshness oi the earth’s morning, still lingering
on the mountain’s side, in the depths of the primeval forest, or amidst
the waves of ocean. And thus it seems to me that to the naturalist, wild
flowers and fruits will always be more beautiful and attractive than all
the richest treasures of the garden.
But a comparison should scarcely be made, perhaps, between wild fruits
and those which have become subject to man. The whole character of the
latter has become changed; the bitter has been made sweet, and the small
large—all freedom has been lost. To a certain extent they are produced
in the form and at the time that man decrees; and thus, however much
their utility may have been increased, the natural has, to a , greater
or less extent, been lost. That this is not so to many eyes I am aware,
but to the eye of the naturalist and of the artist (and are not these in
many respects convertible terms?) it has gone for ever.
The Sloe (.Prunus spinosa L.) would scarcely (save, perhaps, “to boyish
appetites”) be considered to merit a place among edible wild fruits, and
yet, when gathered at the proper time— after the frosts of autumn have
lit up the woods—a by no means despicable jelly may be made from the
fruit. The blossoms, covering with “radiant sheen” the rough bank or
rocky brow where this plant delights to grow, well merit the name of
“spring’s banner,” which has been applied to them. The juice of the
fruit is said to make a good marking ink for linen or woollen cloths,
the part to be marked being placed on the fruit, and the letters pricked
out with a pin. The young leaves dried are a substitute for tea, oftener
perhaps used than is generally suspected! In Gaelic the Sloe is called
an-droi-ghionn and preas-nan-airneag.
The Bullace {P. insititia L.) This, with its larger, less austere berry,
is a rarer plant than the Sloe, to which, in many respects, it is
similar. In Scotland, it is said not to extend north of Dumfries. It is,
however, apparently wild in Perthshire.
The Gean (P. avium L.) is the origin of the garden cherry, and its fruit
is too well known to need description. Though Gean (evidently, I think,
derived from the French) is given in the manuals as the name of this, it
is more especially a Scottish name, and applied to the black-fruited
variety. "Withering says, “Green Tree in Scotland,” apparently having
taken up the name wrongly.
The Bird-cherry, or Hag-berry (P. padus L.), can scarcely be considered
to produce an edible fruit, though, according to Lightfoot, it was used
in Scotland for flavouring wine or brandy. The Swedes are said to use
the blossoms for a similar purpose. Of all our wild trees, none is more
worthy of admiration than this when in full flower, and its long snowy
racemes, melodious with the hum of the wild bees, hanging over some
murmuring brook, while under its slender branches the wild hyacinth and
pale primrose grow side by side.
The Cloud-berry, or Averon (Rubus chamcemorus L.) High up on the
mountain side, where the bog-mosses grow in cushions of green, red, and
yellow, flourishes the little mountain bramble. The flowers are large
and white, and are followed in about six weeks by the large berries, at
first red and opaque, then yellow and semi-transparent. The taste of the
fruit is veiy peculiar, and (to my idea, at least) not very pleasant
when uncooked; but when preserved, either as jam or jelly, it is very
agreeable and much sought after. Should a frost come at the time of
flowering — end of May and June — (not unfrequent at the high altitudes
which this plant affects), the blossoms are unproductive: this is
doubtless the reason why one often sees acres of the plant without a
single berry. In the north of Europe also, the fruit is much used, and
so is the Arctic Bramble (Rubus arcticus), which is, however, more
nearly related to the following species. The Arctic Bramble, which has
pink blossoms, has been reported as growing on Ben-y-Ghloe, but has not
been recently, if ever, found there.
The Stone Bramble (R. saxatilis), or Roebuck Berry. This is another
plant of the same genus, descending, however, to a lower elevation, and
preferring the banks of subalpine streams and subalpine woods. The
barren branches are long and trailing, but the fertile ones are shorter,
and bear a few whitish blossoms, followed in due time by the berries,
consisting of two or three scarlet drupes. In no place does the Stone
Bramble show to greater advantage than when growing among the rounded
pebbles on the banks of a Highland stream, the leafy shoots trailing
among the stones, and the bright scarlet clusters of berries shining
forth against the green and grey background. The fruit is of a peculiar
acid flavour, and has been made into a by no means despicable jam—so my
friend, Mr. J. M'Farlane, reports from experience. In Russia it is
fermented with honey.
The Raspberry (R. Idceus), another plant of the same family, needs no
description, and appears to be truly wild in many woods and on some
mountain sides.
The Bramble (R. fruticosus) is equally well known, but its fruit is not
nearly so appreciated. It is a much more handsome plant than the
last-mentioned, and when trailing over some rock or rugged bank, its
tinted leaves and snowy blossoms—sometimes rose-tinted—and green, red,
and purple-black berries, make a picture that has often tempted the
artist to linger awhile. The berries are often eaten, and afford a good
jelly. Withering says that “they do not eat amiss with wine, and are
rendered more palatable by being mixed with the juice of sloes.” In many
parts, the country people say that after the end of September Brambles
are not eatable, as they then become the property of the devil—probably,
I suppose, for the reason that they are often touched by the frost in
October.
The Dew-berry (R. ccesius) is somewhat similar to the Bramble, but is a
rarer plant in Scotland.
The Wild Strawberry (Fragaria vesca L.). This is another of the wild
fruits which requires no further mention than the name. The berries are
sometimes white, and have then a (perhaps imaginary) finer flavour.
The Scotch Rose (Rosa spinosissima L.), the Downy-leaved Rose (R.villosa),
the Sweet Briar or Eglantine (R. rubiginosa), and the Dog-rose (R.
caninaJ, have all a more or less edible fruit. The hip or fruit has a
different flavour in each species, and in preparing them for use the
rough prickly inside must of course be removed. In the north of Europe
they are mixed with wine, but may also be made into a jelly with sugar.
In some parts of Russia a spirit is extracted from the flowers, and they
are also preserved with honey and sugar. The hips of the Scotch Rose are
purple-black, and have a pleasant subacid flavour. With their juice silk
and muslin may be dyed of a peach colour, and with the addition of alum,
a deep violet. Of the other species, the fruit of R. villosa is the most
palatable, and that of the Sweet Briar the least so. The latter plant is
said to be a doubtful native of Scotland; but, in Perthshire at least,
it seems to have some claim to be considered indigenous. Thus speaks old
Gerarde of the Dog-rose:—“It were to small purpose to use many words in
the description thereof; for even children with great delight eat the
berries thereof when they be ripe, make chains and other pretty gewgawes
of the fruit; cookes and gentlewomen make tarts and such like dishes,
for pleasure thereof; and therefore this shall suffice for the
description.”
The Crab-apple (Pyrus malus L.) has scarcely an edible fruit in a wild
condition, the juice being so very acid. It is the origin of the
cultivated apple.
The Rowan, or Mountain Ash (P. aucuparia L.). There is perhaps no
indigenous tree that adds greater beauty to a mountain wood in September
or October than the Rowan, with its glowing vermillion berries, seen
against a bright blue sky. In former times, and even not so very long
ago, the tree was reputed sacred, and a sovereign charm against
witchcraft. The berries may be used in various ways, but chiefly for
making a jelly which is eaten with venison or mutton; the flavour of
this jelly is very peculiar. Lightfoot says that in Jura the juice is
used as an acid for punch, and that in some places the highlanders
distil a very good spirit from the berries. According to Evelyn, ale and
beer used to be brewed from them, and was a common and “incomparable
drink” in Wales; while Withering reports that the berries, dried and
ground, make wholesome bread. In Strathspey, on May Day (the ancient
Beltane), the sheep used to, and perhaps may yet, be made to pass
through a hoop of Rowan wood.
The White Beam (Pyrus aria L.) is rather rare in a wild state, and
scarcely merits notice as an edible fruit-bearer save that the berries
have, in the neighbourhood of Perth and elsewhere, unaccountably
acquired the name of mulberries (a fruit entirely unlike the pomes of
the White Beam), and are so called by persons who should know better.
All the above-named plants belong to the Rosacece; the next order
producing esculent wild fruits is the Grossulariatece, but few of them
have more than a doubtful claim to be considered indigenous in Scotland.
The Red Currant (.Ribes rubrum L.), Mountain Currant (R. alpinum L.),
Black Currant (R. nigrum L.), and the Gooseberry (R. grossularia L.),
are the plants belonging to this order that are included in the British
list, but they are more often found in a naturalized than in a really
wild condition. Whatever may be said for the others, R. alpinum is not
usually considered wild in Scotland; and as the fruit is scarcely, from
its insipidity, worth eating, we need not consider it further at
present. The other species are too well known to need description. We
may, however, note that the young leaves of the Black Currant “tinge
spirits so as to resemble brandy,” and that the “seeds of
Gooseberries—washed, dried, roasted, and ground—are a good substitute
for coffee.”
The Elder, or Bour-tree (Sambucus nigra L.), is a well-known plant, but
so far north as this it appears to be doubtfully indigenous, though
common enough in many woods and hedges. Several parts of the plant have
been, and one of them still is, used. From the purplish-black berries a
wine is made, by no means despicable when mulled; and from the same part
a preparation for colds, etc., is also prepared. The flowers are made
into wine also, and the cluster of flower buds is said to make a
delicious pickle to eat with mutton. Tea, even (which cannot, however,
be recommended), has been made from the dried flowers. It is said not to
be prudent to sleep under the shade of the tree, from its narcotic
properties.
The Crow-berry (Empetrum nigrum L.) is one of those plants which clothe
our mountain sides in great abundance, and whose very name brings to the
memory of the naturalist many pleasant days on the hills, when the
watery berries have been eagerly sought for, to allay the thirst that a
too eager pursuit of his treasures—be they animal or Vegetable—under the
broiling sun, has induced. In this country the berries are always
purple-black, but in North America they are often purple, and in South
America red. I was at one time rather puzzled to account for the name of
the Crow-berry, for, though both the berry and the crow are of the same
colour, yet that did not seem a sufficient reason why the Empetrum
should be called Crow-berry. My friend, Mr. J. W. H. Traill, however,
told me that he once saw a lot of hoodie-crows feeding on the berries,
and that fact, I think, explains the name. I was not aware till recently
that a jam could be made from Crow-berries, but it seems that they are
not very unfrequently so used. To my idea, the taste of this jam is not
agreeable. In large quantities the berries are said to occasion
headache. In Iceland and Norway, a kind of wine is made from them. With
alum, the berries dye a dark purple.
We now come to the genus Vactinium, of which all the British species
produce an edible fruit. As the fruit in each species has different
qualities, it will be well to consider them in detail.
The Blaeberry (Vaccinium myrtillus L.). I imagine that few people would
declare the fruit of this plant to be neither agreeable nor wholesome,
and yet that is the judgment that the great botanist, Sir J. E. Smith,
“dignissimus Linncei viceres,” pronounced upon them. Dr. Johnston
delivers a different opinion—“good plucked from the bush, better when
eaten with cream in the manner of strawberries.” They also make good jam
or jelly, which last the highlanders are said to flavour with whisky.
The Blaeberry is one of the few wild fruits that are brought into the
market, and in some places a considerable amount of money is made by
those who gather them for sale. A variety with white berries is
sometimes found, and has been observed in woods between Dunkeld and
Blair-Athol by one of the Dukes of Athol.
The Great Bilberry (V. uliginosum L.). This is a much rarer plant than
the last, and is almost confined to the higher mountains. The black
berries have not much flavour, and in large quantities are said to cause
giddiness.
The Red Whortle-berry, or Idaean Vine (V. vitis-idcea L.). Of late years
especially, these berries, which in North Scotland are called Cran-berries
(the true Cran-berry, V. oxycoccos, being scarcely known), have come
into such extensive use for making a capital jelly or jam, that large
quantities have been imported from Norway, and meet with a ready sale.
The chief supply of Scotch-grown berries comes from the woods north of
the Grampians, where the dark shining evergreen leaves and clusters of
bright red berries make a beautiful carpet to the birch and pine woods
in autumn, as do the white rose-tinted flowers in early summer.
The Cran-berry (V oxycoccos L.), with its delicate wiry stems creeping
over the many coloured bog-mosses, its bright rose-coloured petals so
curiously rolled back, and the purplish-red and spotted berries, can
scarcely be esteemed a common plant in Scotland, though in a few
favoured spots it grows in great abundance. Yet there is scarcely a
mountain side, I believe, where it does not grow, and where a close
search will not be rewarded. The berries have a peculiar flavour, much
esteemed by many people, and disliked by others. They are especially
used for making tarts, but it is chiefly with American Cran-berries—which,
though larger and finer looking fruit, are yet inferior in flavour—that
these are made. In some parts of the south of Scotland and north of
England, Cranberries grow in sufficient abundance as to allow of their
being brought to market. The cultivation of this plant has been
recommended, and it is said that a bed five feet square ought to yield
one quart of fruit—a profitable and easy method of cultivating land
otherwise of little use. |
