Catalogue of Economic Plants in the Collection of the U. S. Department of Agriculture

In Short

This volume is an official, government-commissioned reference catalog detailing hundreds of "economic plants"—those species providing fiber, food, medicine, or materials for trade. Originally published in 1891, it functions as both a record of the Department’s horticultural collection and a handbook for the public. It balances botanical nomenclature with the folklore and practical applications of each specimen. Its enduring value lies in its snapshot of Victorian-era global commerce, capturing how diverse plants were understood, utilized, and integrated into the American and international economy at the close of the nineteenth century.

The Story

The work functions as a structured, sequential journey through the botanical world, organized alphabetically by scientific name. It begins with Abelmoschus moschatus, a plant from Bengal whose seeds were used to scent hair powder, and concludes with a vast array of species spanning the globe. The narrative arc is not one of plot, but of mounting discovery, as the reader encounters a wide variety of flora that shaped human history.

The text moves from simple utility to the profound—and sometimes perilous—ways plants have influenced civilization. It documents, for instance, the breadfruit tree, linking it to the historical mutiny on the Bounty, and the Abrus precatorius, noting how its seeds were used in India as a standard of weight for the famous Kohinoor diamond. The catalog systematically dismantles myths while confirming genuine medicinal and industrial values. It explains the origins of everyday commodities, such as the citron—brought to the Mediterranean by the Crusaders—and the pineapple, which was described centuries ago as a fruit worthy of the gods.

As the entries progress, the scope widens from the familiar to the exotic. The reader learns of the "cow tree" of Venezuela, which yields a sap that serves as a nourishing, milk-like food, and the "devil tree" of Bombay, used for its bitter, medicinal bark. There is a recurring emphasis on the ingenuity required to harness these plants: the use of palm fibers for bowstrings and hammocks in South America, the extraction of dyes from fustic trees, and the transformation of the carob bean—the supposed food of St. John in the wilderness—into animal feed and medicinal aids.

The catalog also addresses the darker or more cautionary aspects of nature. It warns of the "acrid, caustic oil" of the cashew nut, which causes severe inflammation if handled improperly, and the medicinal but dangerous croton oil. It notes the colonial and commercial interests that drove the global movement of these species, often mentioning where and how they were introduced to new continents. The entries are punctuated by anecdotes about cultural practices, such as the Japanese tradition of decorating tombs with sacred tree branches or the use of specific plants to clear the voice for singers. By the time the reader reaches the final entries, they have gained a comprehensive view of how botanical resources were cataloged, tested, and utilized to serve the evolving needs of agriculture, industry, and medicine.

How It Unfolds

The foundational plants The text opens with species prized for their aromatic and cosmetic uses, establishing a pattern of identifying the geographic origin and specific domestic application for each entry.

The industrial and medicinal survey The middle sections expand into heavy-duty applications, detailing fibers for rope, wood for shipbuilding, and bark for tanning, while simultaneously cataloging powerful medicinal roots and resins.

The cultural and historical context As the catalog progresses, the descriptions incorporate historical anecdotes—such as the Dutch monopoly on nutmeg or the specific dietary habits of indigenous populations—to explain the global distribution of these plants.

The concluding technical summary The final entries focus on the broader potential for domestic cultivation, offering a realistic assessment of which plants might thrive in American climates and which are better left to the tropics.

The People

The primary voice is that of William Saunders, the Superintendent of Gardens and Grounds. He acts as a meticulous curator, driven by a desire to educate the public and provide a useful reference for visitors to the Department’s grounds. He is not a romantic; he is an empiricist. When he encounters the claim that the leaves of the Abrus precatorius can predict the weather, he dismisses it as a fallacy proven wrong by experimental testing.

Supporting these entries are the unnamed "Indian doctors," "natives," and "travelers" whose localized knowledge forms the bedrock of the information Saunders compiles. These figures represent the traditional keepers of botanical lore—those who knew which trees yielded glue for canoes, how to ferment locust pods into cakes, or which roots could cure a snake bite. Their collective wisdom stands in contrast to the formal, scientific oversight of the Department of Agriculture. Throughout the text, the reader observes the intersection of these two worlds: the ancient, practical knowledge of indigenous cultures being translated into the standardized, bureaucratic language of American agricultural science. The transformation of this raw, traditional knowledge into a formalized catalog reflects the broader Victorian goal of organizing the natural world into a tool for national and commercial progress.

In Its Own Voice

The weight of the famous Kohinoor diamond is known to have been ascertained in this way.

(Referring to the seeds of the Abrus precatorius, which are used in India as a standard of weight.)

These plants are among the most beautiful of all vegetable productions, and in their gigantic forms indicate, in a meager degree, the extraordinary beauty of the vegetation on the globe previous to the formation of the coal measures.

(Describing the tree-fern Alsophila australis.)

The finest teas do not reach this country; they will not bear a sea voyage, and are used only by the wealthy classes in China and Russia.

(Commenting on the quality and trade of the tea plant Thea viridis.)

What It's Really About

This book is fundamentally about the categorization of the natural world into usable assets. It explores the tension between the wild, unruly nature of global vegetation and the human desire to tame, label, and deploy it for economic and medicinal ends. It asks what constitutes an "economic plant" and, by extension, how societies determine the value of a species. The text highlights the transition of knowledge from localized, cultural practice into global commodity. It is a study of human ingenuity, documenting the ways in which people have adapted to their environments by extracting fibers, resins, and nutrients from the most unlikely sources, all while striving to turn biological diversity into a stable foundation for agriculture and trade.

Why Read It Today

Reading this work today feels like wandering through a Victorian botanical conservatory. It is a precise, unsentimental, and deeply informative document that will appeal to anyone interested in the history of botany, agriculture, or global trade. You will appreciate it if you enjoy the methodical, encyclopedic tone of the nineteenth century, where every plant is treated with a mixture of scientific curiosity and colonial-era pragmatism.

It is important to acknowledge that the book reflects its time; it is a product of a 1891 government office, and its descriptions of "natives" and "primitive" practices are colored by the period's standard attitudes. It is not a modern field guide and should not be used as such; some of the medicinal claims are specific to the era’s understanding of science and are not supported by modern medicine. However, the prose is remarkably clean and lacks the flowery distractions of later decades. The length can be a challenge if read cover-to-cover, but as a reference, it remains a fascinating window into how the United States government once cataloged the riches of the world, seeking to bring the global flora into the domestic landscape. It remains a testament to a time when botany was the frontline of industrial progress.