John Evelyn's "Salad Bowl"

A friend and former colleague came to lunch and during the conversation he revealed one of his ingenious finds for a topic that he is working out to present at a conference. Though also retired he, unlike me, remains active as a scholar and thus has become a prod for my otherwise vegetating mind. Currently his interest is focused on John Evelyn (1620-1706). While reading up on Evelyn's Sylva as part of an investigation into literary evidence of changing attitudes toward nature, his attention was grabbed by the curious phrase "Man is like an inverted oak." He checked it out and found, among other things, a 16th century emblem (published in Antwerp) showing an image of the inverted tree (with a man inside it) accompanied by a poem in Latin that tied the phrase to the biblical text "By its fruit you shall know[the tree]." Subsequently he lent me some of Evelyn's writings as well as 2 pages from Francis Bacon's Natural History (pp. 431-432, in Vol. 4 of B's works, edited by Douglas Denon Heath et.al., in the 19th century). In the process of distinguishing the nature of plants from that of "living creatures" (i.e. animals) Francis Bacon wrote:"and therefore it was said, not elegantly alone but philosophically:'Homo est planta inversa'" to illustrate that feeding in plants is in the lower part and in animals in the upper part, etc. The editors refer the reader back to an essay by the younger Scaliger, a near contemporary of Bacon's and then say that the phrase is founded on Aristototle's On Youth and old age. By now my curiosity was revived and thus I set to work.

I could not find Aristotle's essay, but I found one attributed to Roger Bacon, the thirteenth century Franciscan scholar who among other things set out to clear the texts of classical authors, Aristotle in particular, from the scholia of previous readers that had become part of the text. The full title of the Roger Bacon essay is De retardatione accidentium senectutis. Another essay on the same subject, attributed to Arnald de Villanova, a younger contemporary of Roger's is called De conservatione iuventute et retardanda senectute. This was dedicated to the Aragonese King of Naples and most of the modern scholarly work on these 2 essays (treated as two versions of one) is in Spanish. The attribution to Roger Bacon has been questioned by non-English scholars, in one case because internal as well as external evidence suggests that it was written too early for Bacon [and thus also for Villanova]. All this doesn't bother me very much for medieval scholars often omitted the name to the original author of a work they emended, etc., probably because they assumed that the name would be known in the small circle of the learned or because plagiarism wasn't a concept then.

I have been unable to find a text of that essay, but if the editors of Francis Bacon knew the alleged Aristotelian text, they may have gotten it from this presumably Roger Bacon essay of which a translation was published in London in 1683 by one Richard Browne (who has the same name as John Evelyn's brother in law); John Evelyn actually refers to that 1683 edition in his 1699 treatise Acetaria on the growing and use of salad and other greens to maintain good health (John Evelyn. Directions for the Gardener and Other Horticultural Advice. Maggie Campbell-Culver ed. Oxford U.P., 2009, pp. 141ff.) Evelyn also knew the essay by Scaliger in which he defends the usefulness of vegetables against an Italian scholar who argued that plants are actually harmful to a persons health. But the editors of Francis Bacon are correct in saying that the "inverted plant" phrase is "founded on what is said by Aristotle," but in A.'s De partibus animalium, iv.10 where he wrote: ... the animal becomes a plant that has its upper parts downwards and its lower parts above. For in plants the roots are the equivalents of mouth and head. (transl. Wm Ogle, eBooks at Adelaide, 2007). This simile was summed up as "Man is an inverted tree, and a tree is an inverted man" by Medieval scholars. A.'s phraseology and context - of what sets plants apart from animals - is pretty close to Francis Bacon, but A. is relying on Plato's Timaeus, 90a, where we find (in F.M. Cornford's 1937 transl. p. 353)... "the sovereign form of soul [which] dwells in the summit of our body and lifts us from earth towards our celestial affinity, like a plant whose roots are not in the earth, but in the heavens." Medieval scholars could have had a field day with this striving towards the heavens, had they but known that part of the Timaeus.

Neither Plato, nor his pupil Aristotle is concerned in this context with the preservation of youth or slowing down old age which was the topic of Roger Bacon/Arnald de Villanova and that interested John Evelyn. Somewhere in its historical life a commentator suggested that the simile includes a play on the Greek word anthropos that contains ano(=high) and thropos(=moving upward) and additionally on the similarity of the latin homo(=man) and humus(=earth). In the process Medieval commentators moved from an explanatory comparison between plants and animals to a phrase that became a poetic commonplace, though that 16th century emblem reflects the moral baggage that medieval usage had attached to the phrase by associating it with the evangelical tree which, if it bore no more fruit, was rooted up. An extreme example of this development is Cardinal Lothar de Segni (later Pope Innocent III)'s On the Contempt of this world in which Matthew 7,17-18 inspired him to compare plants and man as follows: "Plants and trees produce flowers, greens and fruit and from which we get oil wine and balsam; from the human body [we get] spit, urine and shit; they have sweet smell [while] the human body gives off the abomination of decay; for what is man according to his shape if not an inverted tree." Segni is using here one of Quintillian's topoi that poetry is used either to praise, or to revile and ridicule by turning a thing into its opposite, much as we may say "what a mess, this is the world upside down.". But we are a long way from Aristotle's and Plato's natural philosophy or from the Medieval teachings on the benefits of plants and their products for the health of the human body, let alone for the prolongation of life.

John Evelyn's treatise on the growing and preparation of fresh vegetables - he discusses more than just lettuce - fits into the latter tradition as is clear from his reference to "our famous Roger Bacon's "the Cure of Old Age and Preservation of Youth." (p. 187) What struck me while reading Evelyn was how close he comes to such of our modern healthy eating advocates as Michel Pollan and Mark Bittman, for it is only when Evelyn wants to show that his advice is backed up by both the learned of the Classical and Medieval world as well as by Catholic and Protestant scholars that we become aware of his precursors and probably also of his awareness of the revolutionary nature of his essay. Not that he was alone in the 17th century to write about the benefits of vegetables and books about gardening were best sellers. One of the editions of The Herball or Generall Historie of Plants by John Gerard (1597) has a beautiful title page that includes a picture of an estate's garden with vegetable beds and fruit trees in a design that John Evelyn encountered in his extensive travels. And John Parkinson's Paradisus Terrestris (1629) has a title page showing the Biblical paradise in an oval. The imagery is a play on his name: paradise=park, son=sun, hence the Paradisus in sole above the title and the rays of the sun surrounding the oval. It reminds me of the title of John Evelyn's great unfinished work Elysium Britannicum. But it also recalls the well established Medieval knowledge that before the Fall Adam and Eve were vegetarians and that even after the Flood Noah was permitted to eat but little meat.

The collection of essays of which the Acetaria: A Discourse of Sallets is the one that interests me here, also includes "Calendar for Gardeners" and "Directions for the Gardiner." According to the editor all three works were to be part of the Elysium. There may even be a reference to his continued work on the great project when he refers to critics who say: "This Man began to build, but was unable to finish!" (p.139) It is not likely to refer to his actual gardens the experience of which furnished him with the material for these essays and he continues with an explanation: He has not achieved his project because of "the Unsatiable Coveting to Exhaust all that should, or can be said upon every Head...[and he sees his Silva and Kalendar as the first installments that are] both capable of Great Improvements." This intrigues me for in the three essays in this collection there is an emphasis on healthful plants for the vegetarian diet of Adam and Eve. The full title of the Calendar is "Kalendarium Hortense: or, the Gard'ners Almanac; directing what he is to do Monethly, throughout the Year; and what Fruits and Flowers are in Prime," (with an helpful reminder from the Roman Columella that I too can heed: "Be wakeful, men, for the seasons flee with silent tread, and the year turns without a sound.") Among Evelyn's tasks not the least are those of keeping plants healthy and the garden clean, including the use of [organic] fertilizer and pesticides, and clean top soil composted with aged manure from well kept stables. Then there is the advise on watering: "Water gently, not hastily, or in a great stream, for it only hardens the ground and [does] not penetrate: therefore imitate the natural showers."(p. 104) These "Directions" were written for his own gardener. It begins with a list of garden terms that is followed by lists of plants for the kitchen garden, most of which are salads and herbs, after which comes a list of medicinal pants that must be set out in "Alphabetical order for the better retaining them in memorie" obviously to avoid errors in their use. The variety of plants available, including exotics from the newly discovered worlds, is impressive. The reader will be grateful to Ms Campbell-Culver, the very erudite editor, for her glossary of plant names (pp. 261-310)as well as for her explanatory notes (on which I rely for my remarks) identifying the many names Evelyn drops and the translations of his citations (pp. 235-260 for the Salad Book).

In his letter of dedication - which is actually a plea to provide a permanent home and steady income for the Royal Society - Evelyn ranges his little essay, "Trifle" he calls it, among the tasks of the Royal Society which is to free the works of nature "from those Illusions and Impostors that are still endeavouring to cloud and depress" true knowledge as well as in the tradition of the elder Pliny, Cicero and his corespondent Atticus, who all loved gardening. He aims to "recall the World, if not altogether to their Pristine Diet, yet to a much more wholesome and temperate [one] than is now in Fashion"[and largely composed of meats]. In his Preface he returns to his humble contribution that stands in contrast to "those of late, who have arrogated and given the Glorious Title of Compleat and Accomplish'd Gardiners, to what they have Publish'd." After all too much remains yet to be discovered. Perhaps he had Nicholas Culpepper, his contemporary, in mind? Then he mentions an anonymous person who had studied only bees for sixty years as well as "a Person of my Acquaintance [who] spent almost Forty, in Gathering and Amassing Materials for an Hortulan Design, to so enormous an Heap, as to fill some Thousand Pages [for] only two, or three Acres of Ground; nay within the Square of less than One (skillfully Planted and Cultivated)..." I wonder whether he is here writing about himself, for he refers in his Kalendar (whose ninth printing encouraged him to improve upon it) to a nursery of one acre laid out in squares [as for example on the Gerard title page].

The text of the Acetaria suggests that he relied for his many references to persons and quotes on his own chapbooks. It recalls my own copious note taking (on five by eights), first for my graduate papers and doctoral thesis and then for my lectures, papers, articles and books. Although taught by an excellent teacher in the required Historical Methods seminar to write down complete and precise references and avoid abbreviations, especially in another language, at the end of the day these rules were easily forgotten. Thus some of Evelyn's errors look like mine, for example when he cites "the learned Harduin" who is quoting a Latin author as saying that "beets are less innocent(innocentior) than cabbages"(p.180) where the editor corrects him because Harduoin actually has "more harmful(nocentior)," which is what the Latin author intended. And when Evelyn talks about salads bringing sound sleep (p.204) he has people sleep "under a gentle tree" (molli sub arbore) which the editor calls a "garbled reminiscence of Vergil's "and gentle sleep beneath a tree" (mollesque sub arbore somni," which actually fits better with Evelyn's point and which he cites correctly in his Sylva,bk 4). The editor was also unable to find the source for some of Evelyn's attributions. It seems to me that Evelyn cited from memory not bothering to check his notes or when he could not easily find his source in those "1,000 pages" of chapbooks.

The Acetaria begins with a descriptive list of useful plants that reveals the lasting indebtedness of the 17th century to the approach to medicine as defined by Galen in the 3rd century that dominated Medieval writings. Central to this was the concept of the four humours (choler, melancholy, blood and phlegm) that were affected by the four elements of fire, earth, air and water and whose bad effects on a persons health should be treated by remedies that were either hot or cold, dry or moist. In the treatises on the conservation of youth etc., young people were said to be hot and old people cold and that cold plants were good for the young and hot ones for the old. Thus one reads in the summarized 11th century Tacuinum Sanitatis (Tables of Health): Turnips(Napones). Nature: Warm in the second degree and humid in the first. Optimum: The long and dark ones. Usefulness: They increase the sperm and render the flesh less prone to swellings. Dangers: Occlusions in the veins and pores. Nutralization of the dangers: Stewed twice and served with very fat meats." Evelyn has:" Turnep; moderately hot and moist: Napus; the long Navet is certainly the most delicate..." He suggests young radish-sized ones for the salad bowl, but some people wrap them and roast them under the embers." The Tacuinum says that sage is warm in the first degree and moist in the second and good for paralysis, but that it should be rinsed well. Evelyn echoes this: "Sage,Salvia; hot and dry. The tops ... well picked and washed ... retain all the noble properties of the other hot plants; more especially for ... all paralytical affections ... [and] the assiduous use of it is said to render men immortal." But in contrast to these remnants of tradition, Evelyn's essay also bears witness to the work of Renaissance linquists who made the original works of the Ancients available in mostly complete and carefully corrected texts. Above all, Evelyn relied on his own experience as a gardener which was also informed by that of such others as the Romans Columella and Palladius, the more recent French Olivier de Serres and, in addition to his acquaintance with gardeners of various aristocratic friends, Evelyn published The French Gardiner, a translation of the work by the contemporary Nicolas de Bonnefons. Yet he advises the mixing of hot, dry plants with cold and moist for their effect on the "humours," but they will also taste better by offsetting the pungent with the mild: "in the Composure of Sallet, every Plant should come in to bear its part, without being over-power'd by some Herb of a stronger Taste." Advice he supports with and elegant verse from the 5th century Macrobius' Saturnalia. Actually, when picked in season when they are tender and delicate, they are "in a word, [good] for Persons of all Ages, Humours and Constitutions whatsoever."

Before he goes on to the composition of and dressing of the actually salads he repeats a strong warning against the careless gathering of herbs in the wilds advocated by some who say a fool can pick greens as long as they are young and tender. It is too easy to mistake hemlock (what done in Socrates) for parsley or cow-parsley for chervil, etc. Even wild medicinal plants should be avoided, for what may be good for one thing may be bad for another. Moreover, one must be careful of fruits that have been damaged by insects and carefully rinse vegetables to get rid of insect eggs, etc.: "let your Herby Ingredients be exquisitely [carefully] cull'd, and cleans'd of all worm-eaten, slimy, canker'd, dry, spotted, or any ways vitiated Leaves." And then for dressing use clear oil, preferably of Lucca olives, mixed with the best wine-vinegar (also clear) that may be infused by roses, rosemary etc.; for salt he recommends sea-salt "as the least corrosive" (the best if from France) and in addition to mustard and freshly ground pepper, one may add orange or lemon peel and if a knife is used, it should be of silver and not steel, for the acids will release a metallic taste. What Good Housekeeper could not approve?

The last twenty pages are dedicated to a somewhat rambling defense of a "Herbaceous Diet," replete with allusions to the Bible and the Ancient Classics, in favor of vegetarianism, for. ex. Genesis 1,29 as well as Gen. 5 and 9, all from before the time that there were "flesh-shambles" (slaughter houses) and when people lived to a very great age. [No doubt we find here a reflection of the widespread debate on the glory of the "Golden Age" literature that received a secular impulse as a result of the 16th century's voyages of discovery]. And writing in the context of the Great Plague of the 1660s, he quotes a doctor friend who wrote at length about the unhealthy conditions in the cities as opposed to those of the country with its clean air; he himself had penned an essay advocating the clearing of the "shantytown" environment of poor cottages to put in gardens and parks so that the smog of all the chimneys would disappear and to which he returns several times in his Sylva. The Great Fire did some of the clearing, but no gardens and parks replaced the burnt houses, much to the regret of Evelyn. In the Acetaria, Evelyn decries market gardeners who near those cities use (in contrast to clean composted soil) "rotten dung," [the refuse of city dwellers], as fertilizer whose foul smells, "wafted by the Wind poison and infect the ambient Air and Vital Spirits," to make their hot beds for raising forced vegetables "for the Wanton Palate...[But what is] corrupt in the Original, cannot but produce malignant and ill Effects." Here he cites "the Editor of our famous Roger Bacon's Treatise" on the Cure of Old Age and Preservation of Youth as an early authority. Not only do such animals as cows and horses that feed on grass live to a great age, but Evelyn cites numerous instances of humans that did, including one "old Parr" who when he gave up his simple diet for the fare at Court, "quickly sunk and dropt away." (Thomas Parr, ?1483-1635, had been a farm servant, whose age made him into a spectacle and he was introduced at court). Evelyn was convinced that the rich diet killed Parr, but his life may simply have run its course.

In his defense of the salad bowl Evelyn doesn't only criticize the luxurious life of his effete contemporaries, but he digs up as evidence from the Younger Scaliger that "Flesh-Devourers (such as the farthest Northern) become Heavy, Dull, Unactive and much more Stupid than the Southern; and such as feed much on plants, are more Acute, Subtil and of deeper Penetration..." (So much for Hitler's great Arian race of tall and blond northerners and long live the Mediterranean diet!). It gets worse for "flesh-eaters" often also consume blood and to obtain it engage in cruelty to animals. And it became still worse, for not only did the luxuries of the East conquer Rome [echoes of Cato the Elder], but the happy famers lost their two acres [in contravention to the warning in Isaiah 5:8-10: "Woe to those who join [...] field to field until everywhere belongs to them...]to those who needed "Entire Forests and Parks, Warrens and Fish-Ponds and ample Lakes to furnish their Tables [did he have Lucullus in mind?], so as Men could not live by one another without Oppression" and later the "Spawn of Pagan Scythians," i.e. Goths and Vandals, invaded the West and intermarried. [These barbarians were actually named as an example of "enemies of the human race" in a political treatise called Le Prince by Guez de Balzac (1635)]. He also speculates that the flesh and blood diet these invaders brought with them could explain why so much blood has been shed between Christians and may even be the cause for "so many Impertinent Disputes and Cavels about other {than Christian] superstitious Fopperies, which frequently end in Blood and cutting of Throats." Evelyn comes close to the slogan on a button of the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (Peta): People who kill animals rarely stop there. (My vegetarian daughter with her Quaker education can appreciate this). Not surpisingly, in anticipation of Candide, Evelyn believes (in the words of the poet Abraham Cowley) that "Happy [is] the Man who from Ambition free, A little Garden, little Field does feed...The specious Evils of an anxious Life, He leaves to Fools to be their endless Strife." And for good measure he adds some lines from Milton's Paradise Lost describing the idyllic life before the Fall.

It's too bad that he was induced to attach and "Addendum" with recipes that are far removed from the hallowed simplicity of his own salad bowl. But it's not often that I'm getting this much pleasure out of reading a book, Evelyn's seventeenth century syntax notwithstanding.