Springtime and Other Essays Part 8

I add a few names as being picturesque, though without any literary a.s.sociations.

There is an old name for the shepherd's purse, viz., clapperde-pouch, which is said to allude to the leper who stood at the cross-ways announcing his presence with a bell and clapper, and begged for pennies to put in his pouch, which is typified by the seed capsule. Another name for the plant is mother's heart, {107} and is no doubt referable to the shape of the seed pod. Children in England, also in Germany and Switzerland, used to play at the simple game of asking a companion to gather a pod, and then jeering at him for having plucked out his mother's heart.

The name columbine comes from the flower's obvious resemblance to a group of doves, and its Latin name _aquilegia_, meaning a collection of eagles, is a n.o.bler form of the same idea.

Dead-man's fingers is a fine uncanny name for the innocent _Orchis maculata_, and refers to its branching white tuber.

Garlick is a very ancient name, being derived from the Anglo-Saxon _gar_, a spear, and _leac_, a plant; in the name house-leek the word still bears its original meaning of a plant.

_Tragopogon_, the goat's beard, which closes its flowers about mid-day, was once known as go-to-bed-at-noon.

The pansy has been called Herb trinity from the triple colouring of its petals. In Welsh, and also in German, the pansy is called stepmother.

The lower petal is the most decorative, and this is the stepmother herself. On examining the back of the flower it will be seen that she is supported by two green leaflets, known as the _sepals_. These are called her two chairs. Then come her two daughters, less smart, and having only a chair apiece. Lastly, the two step-daughters, still more plainly dressed and with but one chair between them.

Polemonium, from its numerous leaflets arranged in pairs, has received the picturesque name of Jacob's ladder. I remember the pleasure with which I first saw it growing wild in the hayfields of the Engadine.

Polygonatum, _i.e._ Solomon's seal, has been christened _Scala cli_, the ladder to heaven, on the same principle. The name Solomon's seal is not obviously appropriate till we dig up the plant, when the underground stem is found marked with curious scars, which, however, should be pentagonal if they are to represent Solomon's pentacle.

Herb twopence (_Lysimchia nummularia_) is so named after the round leaflets arranged in pairs along its creeping stalk. I do not know why _Inula conyza_ is called ploughman's spikenard, but it is a picturesque name.

Everyone knows the garden plant touch-me-not, so called from the curious irritability of its pods, which writhe in an uncanny way when we gather them. This quality is expressed twice over in the Latin name _Impatiens noli-me-tangere_. But there is a forgotten old English name which pleases me more, viz., quick-in-the-hand, that is to say alive-in-the-hand. This use of the word survives in the familiar phrase "the quick and the dead."

The English name of _Echium vulgare_ is viper's bugloss-this I had always imagined referred to the forked tongue (the style) which projects from the flower. But it is said to be so named from the seeds resembling a viper's head. This is certainly the case, and what can be the function of the little k.n.o.bs on the seed, which represent eyes, I cannot imagine.

The name bugloss is derived from the Greek and means ox-tongue-no doubt in reference to the plant's rough leaves.

_Corruptions_.-Another and greater cla.s.s of names comprises those which are corruptions of cla.s.sical names or of those unfamiliar in other ways.

A well-known example is daffodil, which was originally affodyl, a corruption of asphodel, a name of unknown meaning, originally given to the iris, and transferred to narcissus. A very obvious corruption is aaron, which has been applied to Lords and Ladies, whose scientific name is Arum. An incomprehensibly foolish instance is bullrush for pool-rush, _i.e._ water rush. This name has at least the merit of supplying material for that riddle of our childhood in which occur the words "when the bull rushes out."

Carraway is another obvious corruption of its Latin name _Carum carui_.

In the ancient _Schola Salernitana_, as I learn from Sir Norman Moore, is a punning Latin line, "Dum carui carwey non sine febre fui" ("When I was out of carraway I was never free from fever").

Dogwood (_Cornus sanguinea_) was originally dagwood, so called because it was used to make _dags_ or skewers: doubtless the same word as dagger.

According to a Welsh tradition dogwood was the tree on which the devil hung his mother. I cannot resist the pleasure of quoting this fact, although it does not bear on anything in particular.

Eglantine, a name used for the wild rose, is with much probability derived from the Latin _aculentus_, p.r.i.c.kly, which became in French _aiglent_. Hence came the French names of the plant _eglantier_ and our _eglantine_.

Gooseberry is believed not to have anything to do with a goose, but to come from the Flemish _Kroes_, meaning a cross, a comparison said to be suggested by the triple thorns, though of course a fourth thorn is needed to make this simile accurate. It is hard to see why a plant which grows wild in England, and seems by some botanists to be considered indigenous, should have a Flemish name. Prior, our chief authority, a.s.serts that the early herbalists constantly took names from continental writers, and I think his judgment may be trusted. The problem of the derivation of the word gooseberry may at least serve to ill.u.s.trate the difficulty of the subject.

The name _Hemlock_, which nowadays has a wicked poisonous sound, has in truth a very innocent origin. It is compounded of _hem_, _i.e._ haulm, a stalk, and _lock_, or leac, a plant, thus signifying merely a plant with a stem. Jack of the b.u.t.tery, a name applied to _Sedum acre_, is said to be a corruption from _bot_, _i.e._ an internal parasite, and _theriac_, by which was meant a cure for that evil. The last-named word has turned into "Jack," and _bot_ has grown into "b.u.t.tery."

Lamb's tongue is said to be a name for _Plantago media_; but this must, I think, be a corruption of land tongue, which is highly appropriate to the tongue-like leaves lying so closely appressed to the soil that no blade of gra.s.s grows under them, as though they were determined to spite any one who should root them up by disfiguring his lawn with naked patches.

But still better evidence is forthcoming in the fact that my old Cambridges.h.i.+re gardener always called them land tongues. Why the Anglo-Saxons used the name _way bread_ for the plantain I do not see: the fact is vouched for by c.o.c.kayne in his book ent.i.tled _Leechdoms_.

In Gloucesters.h.i.+re the plantain is called the _fire-leaf_, a name which records the belief that plantains are a danger in the way of heating hay-stacks.

The word madder, _i.e._ the name of the plant which supplies the red dye for the trousers of our French allies, has a curious history. Madder is derived from _mad_, a worm, and should therefore be applied to cochineal, the red colouring matter produced by the minute creature called a coccus.

But still more confusion meets us: the word vermilion which is now used for a red colour of mineral origin, is derived from _vermis_, a worm, and should therefore also be applied to cochineal. The word pink, one of the most familiar of plant-names, has a curious origin, being simply the German _Pfingst_, a corruption of Pentecost, _i.e._ the fiftieth day after Easter.

The tendency to make some kind of sense, or at least something familiar, from the unfamiliar, comes out in name service-tree (_Pyrus torminalis_).

It has nothing to do with _service_, being simply a corruption of _cerevisia_, a fermented liquor. The fruit was used for brewing what Evelyn in his _Sylva_, chap. xv., declares it to be, an incomparable drink. Prior says that the French name of the tree, _cormier_, is derived from an ancient Gaulish word _courmi_, which seems to suggest the modern Welsh _cwrw_, beer.

Tansy (_Tanacetum_) is believed to be simply a corruption of _athansia_, immortality. I gather that we got the name through the French _athanasie_, in which, of course, the _th_ is sounded as a _t_. In all probability it was originally applied to some plant more deserving of being credited with immortality.

A few miscellaneous names may here be given. _Thorough wax_ is a name for _Chlora perfoliata_, also known as _yellow wort_. Its leaves are perfoliate, _i.e._ opposite and united by their bases so that the stem seems to have grown through a single leaf.

_Kemps_, _i.e._ warriors, was a name of the common plantain, with which children used to fight one against the other. I remember this as being an unsatisfactory game because one so constantly killed one's own kemp instead of the enemy.

_Herb Paris_ is simply the plant with a pair of leaves; it should, however, have been described as having four leaves. Thus the name has nothing to do with Paris, the capital of France. But some plants have names of geographical origin; the currants or minute grapes used for making cakes are so called because they come from Corinth. So that we are quite wrong in applying this same name to the familiar companion of the gooseberry in our gardens. In the same way damsons are so called because they are said to have come originally from Damascus.

The name Canterbury bell has a very interesting origin, namely, that bells were the recognised badge of pilgrims to the shrine of St Thomas at Canterbury. One of these bells was found in the bed of the Thames when old London Bridge was pulled down. It is said to be "about the size of an ordinary handbell, with a flat top, on which is an open handle, through which a strap could easily be pa.s.sed to attach it to a horse's collar." This bell is known to have been a.s.sociated with Canterbury by the inscription _Campana Thome_ on the outer edge. The pilgrims seem to have journeyed cheerfully. It is written that some "pilgrims will have with them bag-pipes; so that in everie towne they come through, what with the noise of their piping, and the jangling of their _Canterburie bells_, etc., they make more noise than if the king came there away."

Dutch mice is a name for _Lathyrus tuberosus_. Gerard says that the plant is so named from the "similitude or likeness of Domesticall Mise, which the blacke, rounde, and long nuts, with a peece of the slender string hanging out behind do represent." From this description one would expect to see mouse-like pods, but it is the tubers which give the name to the plant. This is clearly visible in Bentham's ill.u.s.tration; {114} I hope the artist was unaware of the name when he made the drawing-but I have my doubts. The specimen from Cambridges.h.i.+re (which I owe to the kindness of Mr Shrubbs of the University Herbarium) are not especially mouse-like.

The names shepherd's needle and Venus' comb have been given to an umbelliferous plant, _Scandix Pecten_. The teeth of the comb are represented by what are practically seeds. These are elongated stick-like objects covered with minute p.r.i.c.kles all pointing upwards. I do not know how the seeds germinate under ordinary conditions, but I learn from Mr Shrubbs that they are dragged into the holes of earthworms, as my father describes in the case of sticks and leaf-stalks.

Unfortunately for the worms, the p.r.i.c.kles on Venus' needles do not allow the creatures to free themselves, and they actually die in considerable numbers with the needles fixed in their gullets.

SIR JOSEPH DALTON HOOKER {115a}

"Few, if indeed any, have ever known plants as he did."

-BOWER.

Joseph Dalton Hooker was born in 1817 and died in 1911; and of these ninety-four years eighty-one included botanical work, for at thirteen "Joseph" was "becoming a zealous botanist"; and Mr L. Huxley records (ii., 480) that he kept at work till a little before his death on 10th December 1911, and that although his physical strength began to fail in August, yet "till the end he was keenly interested in current topics and the latest contribution to natural science." So far as actual research is concerned, it is remarkable that he should have continued to work at the Balsams-a very difficult cla.s.s of plants-at least till 1910. Mr Huxley has wisely determined to make his book of a reasonable size, and the task of compressing his gigantic ma.s.s of material into two volumes must have been a difficult one. He has been thoroughly successful, {115b} and no aspect of Sir Joseph's life is neglected, the whole being admirably arranged and annotated, and treated throughout with conspicuous judgment and skill.

In an "autobiographical fragment" (i., p. 3) Sir Joseph records that he was born at Halesworth in Suffolk, "being the second child of William Jackson Hooker and Maria Turner." He was not only the son of an eminent botanist, but fate went so far as to give him a botanical G.o.dfather in the person of Rev. J. Dalton, "a student of carices and mosses and discoverer of _Scheuchzeria_ in England." It was after Mr Dalton that Hooker was named, his first name, Joseph, commemorating his grandfather Hooker. In 1821 the family moved to Glasgow, where Sir William Hooker was appointed Professor of Botany. It was here that Sir Joseph, at the age of five or six, showed his innate love of plants, for he records {116}:-

"When I was still in petticoats, I was found grubbing in a wall in the dirty suburbs of the dirty city of Glasgow, and . . . when asked what I was about, I cried out that I had found _Bryum argenteum_ (which it was not), a very pretty little moss which I had seen in my father's collection, and to which I had taken a great fancy."

While still a child his father used to take him on excursions in the Highlands, and on one occasion, on returning home, Joseph built up a heap of stones to represent a mountain and "stuck upon it specimens of the mosses I had collected on it, at heights relative to those at which I had gathered them. This was the dawn of my love for geographical botany."

Sir Joseph records that his father gave him a sc.r.a.p of a moss gathered by Mungo Park when almost at the point of death. It excited in him a desire of entering Africa by Morocco, and crossing the greater Atlas. That childish dream, he says, "I never lost; I nursed it till, half a century afterwards, . . . I did (with my friend Mr Ball, who is here by me, and another friend Mr G. Maw) ascend to the summit of the previously unconquered Atlas."

In 1820 William Hooker was appointed to the newly founded Professors.h.i.+p of Botany at Glasgow. Of this his son Joseph writes, "It was a bold venture for my father to undertake so responsible an office, for he had never lectured, or even attended a course of lectures." With wonderful energy he "published in time for use in his second course, the _Flora Scotica_ in two volumes." Sir Joseph's mother was Maria, daughter of Dawson Turner, banker, botanist and archaeologist, so that science was provided on both sides of the pedigree.

It would seem that Sir Joseph's mother was somewhat of a martinet. When Joseph came in from school he had to present himself to her, and "was not allowed to sit down in her presence without permission."

In 1832, Joseph, then fifteen years of age, entered Glasgow University, being already, in the words of his father, "a fair British botanist" with "a tolerable herbarium very much of his own collecting"; he adds, "Had he time for it, he would already be more useful to me than Mr Klotzsch" [his a.s.sistant].

It was in 1838 that Hooker got his opportunity, for it chanced that James Clerk Ross, the Arctic explorer, was in 1838 visiting at the Smiths of Jordan Hill. In order that Joseph might meet Ross, both he and his father were invited to breakfast. The meeting ended in Ross promising to take him as surgeon and naturalist. There seems to have been a little innocent jobbery with folks in high places, and it fortunately turned out that the expedition was delayed so that Joseph had the opportunity of spending some time at Haslar Hospital.

The expedition seems to have been fitted out with astonis.h.i.+ng poverty.

Seventy years later he wrote, "Except some drying paper for plants, I had not a single instrument or book supplied to me as a naturalist-all were given to me by my father. I had, however, the use of Ross's library, and you may hardly credit it, but it is fact that not a single gla.s.s bottle was supplied for collecting purposes; empty pickle bottles were all we had, and rum as a preservative from the s.h.i.+p's stores."

It is interesting to find Ross, in his preliminary talk with Hooker, saying that he wanted a trained naturalist, "such a person as Mr Darwin"-to which Hooker aptly retorted by asking what Mr Darwin was before he went out.