Chapter II: What May Be Seen on the Earth (1)

"Now the shining meads
Do boast the pansy, lily, and the rose,
And every flower doth laugh as zephyr blows."

--BEN JONSON.

The Flower seems to have been created expressly to say to men:--"Listen! Those things which most attract your glance are but subordinate, and the principal escape you."

That the warning is true, all history attests. It is only, so to speak, from yesterday that the discovery of the sex of plants is to be dated; the tiny organs occupying the centre of the flower having always appeared so insignificant that they had passed, for some thousands of years, completely unnoticed. The eye of the spectator was caught by the calyx and the corolla; these envelopes, though of secondary importance so far as the reproduction of the vegetable is concerned, seemed to eyes dazzled by their glowing colours the true flower,--in fact, the _entire_ flower. Science, which is the slow elaboration of thought matured by the study of objects of no human origin, has completely swept aside this premature judgment.

THE PERIANTH.

We have already, and more than once, employed the word _perianth_[58] to designate the calyx or corolla, whether taken separately or together. In the former case, the _perianth_ is _simple_; in the latter, it is _double_. A more appropriate word could not be made use of. It is derived from the Greek πεσὶ, around, and ἃνθος, flower; and literally signifies, "floral envelope." Simple or double, this envelope is the metamorphosis of several leaves, never of a solitary one, inserted upon planes so closely brought together that they seem confounded. Observe, in fact, how the leaves tend to efface their intervals on the blossom-bearing spray; they draw towards each other, they are apparently in eager haste to accomplish their destined transformation. What eloquence there is in this simple language of nature!

* * * * *

_The Calyx._--The outermost whorl, or verticle, of the flower is called the _calyx_. And why? Out of a notion altogether incorrect. It is true that this foliaceous envelope may often assume the shape of a cup (in Latin, _calix_), and hence that the name has about it a semi-poetical air. But this only occurs when the calyx is composed of a _single_ leaf, which has procured for it the special designations of _monosepalous_, _gamopetalous_, and _monophyllous_,--three different words expressing one and the same thing! The violet and the primrose are examples of a monophyllous, monosepalous, or gamopetalous calyx.

I see, dear reader, that you are puzzled by the word _sepal_. Certainly you would look for it in vain in any classical dictionary; it is neither Greek nor Latin. It was only invented, scarce a century ago, by a Swiss botanist, whose works have chiefly remained in manuscript,--by Necker, brother of the celebrated minister of Louis XVI., and uncle of the illustrious Madame de Staël. Let me explain the circumstance which determined, I suspect, the choice of this fanciful word,--a word belonging to no language but that of modern botanists.

The botanists of antiquity called the coloured leaflets of the corolla, _petals_. In this they were doubly right; for, first, they are, in reality, nothing but metamorphosed leaves; second, the word _petal_ (in Greek, πέταλον) signified "a leaf" as early as the days of Homer, who, when speaking of the nightingale, says, like a keen observer of nature, that this bird, on the return of spring, sings--

"Couched among the thick leaves of the grove."

(Δενδρέων ἐν πετάλοισι καθεζομένη
πυκινοῖσιν.)[59]

The word _petal_ was preserved by Tournefort, handed down by Linnæus and the two De Jussieus, and afterwards adopted by all botanists with the signification given to it by the ancients. Now, as the calyx may also consist of leaflets, which are generally green, Necker conceived the idea of applying to them the same term, after substituting an _s_ for the initial letter _p_. Thus was created the word _sepal_. The innovation, I must point out, was not unanimously adopted. Many botanists continued to use the words "calicinal leaflets," introduced by Linnæus; others, though they adopted the innovation, protested against it.

But leaving the _word_, let us return to the _thing_.

The calyx consists originally of several leaflets. Is the monophyllous or monosepalous calyx a transformation due to the junction of the primitive leaflets? Observation replies in the affirmative.

In the formation of junctures or adhesions nature proceeds from beneath to above. Our language proceeds inversely to nature: we speak of a lobed, dentated, or partite calyx, as if it were primarily monophyllous, and its more or less profound divisions (indicated by the words "lobed," "dentated," "partite") were but consecutive results, produced from above to below.

The truth is, that the calicinal divisions, which we call _lobes_, _lacinias_, and the like, are but the tops of leaflets united at their base. The monophyllous calyx (formed of one piece) is, therefore, simply the result of a more or less complete union of the leaflets composing, properly speaking, the calicinal whorl. This whorl is originally _polyphyllous_; that is to say, formed of several distinct parts. If it were, in the first place, _monophyllous_, it would be impossible to understand how its divisions are made from top to bottom, since nature, in its developments, proceeds from bottom to top. In the final analysis, then, it is an error to consider the calyx as a cup, primarily formed of a single piece.

* * * * *

Grew, an English botanist of the eighteenth century, seems to have been the first who made use of the word _calyx_. "I call a calyx," he says,[60] "the external portion of the flower, which enfolds the others, whether it be all in one piece, as in the violets, or divided, as in the roses."

* * * * *

If we wish to conform to the truth, as brought before us by nature, we must revolutionize our terminology. Instead of speaking of bipartite, tripartite, quadripartite, or of bilobed and trilobed calices,--terms all signifying that the monophyllous calyx is cloven more or less deeply from top to bottom, we must say that the calyx in such and such a species has its leaflets united at the base, or one third, fourth, or half of its height; the _polyphyllous_ or _polysepalous_ calyx will be that whose leaflets remain detached, as was the case in the monophyllous or monosepalous calyx. This language, recommended by the authority of Auguste Saint-Hilaire, would be more precise and exact: therefore, it will not be very quickly adopted. One would say that the human mind condemns itself to pass through the purgatory of what is false and complex, before resolving to adopt the simple and the true.

* * * * *

If we admit the theory according to which all the organs of the vegetable are the result of a metamorphosis of the leaf, we shall ask what place is to be given to the calyx in the series of these transformations?--Answer: The calyx is a foliaceous transformation, intermediary between the bracts and the corolla.

* * * * *

It is particularly in the study of the calyx that the attentive eye is struck by those proteiform movements in which nature makes sport of our absolute rules.

For example: in the _Berberis vulgaris_, the young calicinal leaflets have less resemblance to the bracts than to the petals of the corolla, and hence they have received the name of _petaloid sepals_. In other flowers this morphogenic wavering inclines towards the bracts rather than towards the corolla. We hesitate, therefore, whether we must give the name of _calyx_ or _bracts_ to the three under leaflets which are visible beneath the petaloid envelope of the _Anemone nemorosa_, or wood anemone. The calyx of the Celandine (_Ranunculus ficaria_), which also flowers in spring, is exactly like a whorl or involucre formed by the union of the bracts.

A similar embarrassment takes place when the calyx, in its metamorphosis, inclines too visibly in the direction of the corolla. Thus, in the _Polygala vulgaris_,--a little, vivacious, and very abundant plant,--the two inner leaflets of the calyx are not only larger than the three other outer leaves, but they are coloured like the petals, and become, towards the close of their flowering time, membranous, herbaceous, and marked with three strong veins: they resemble the wings of a butterfly, and have been called wings.

These peculiarities are useful in the distinction of certain species, which, at bottom, are simply varieties. Thus, in the _Polygala Austriaca_ (_Polygala amara_ of Keoch, _Polygala uliginosa_ of Reichenbach),--a plant with small white or bluish leaves, which is sometimes met with on the borders of peaty swamps,--the central vein or ridge of the wings is simple, and never anastomoses with the lateral veins; while, in the _Polygala vulgaris_, as well as in the _Polygala depressa_ and _Polygala amarella_, the vein is ramified, and anastomoses more or less widely with the laterals.

* * * * *

But since we are upon this subject, why should we not seize the opportunity of familiarising ourselves, under the form of a digression, with the little family of the Polygalaceæ? But no; we will adjourn the episode, since it would cut the thread of our discourse upon the calyx, our _calicology_.

* * * * *

Some calices there are, which, by their colouring, approximate so closely to the second floral envelope, that one is always tempted to call them corollas.

Such are:--The red calyx of the fuchsia;

The yellow calyx of the furze (_Ulex Europæus_), and of a kind of hellebore (_Helleborus hyemalis_);

The rosy calyx of the Christmas rose (_Helleborus niger_);

The blue calyx of the larkspur (_Delphinium Ajacis_); and the Napel aconite (_Aconitum Napellus_).

In the _Aquilegia vulgaris_, and in the _Trollius Europæus_, the calyx, by the form and colouring of its leaflets, is confounded with the second whorl so completely, that Linnæus gave it the name of _corolla_.

Nevertheless, in the midst of these waverings, which lead us to mistake the calicinal leaflets sometimes for bracts, sometimes for petals, we recognise perfectly the foliaceous type. Independently of its colour, which is generally green, the calyx has the same organisation as the leaf; we find in it the same tracheæ and the same stomata, the same glands and the same hairs; the veins and ramifications are also the same; and, in more than one instance, the calicinal leaflet resumes the character of a veritable leaf. Look, for example, at the five leaflets, united so strongly at the base but so free at the top, arranged in the form of a quincunx, of the hundred-leaved rose. The two external, enlarged, and lanceolate pieces are garnished on the right and left, and often at the point, with tiny foliaceous appendages, which, in every respect, imitate the composite leaf that carries the slender stem. And if we move aside the external or bearded parts of the calyx, we see that the internal bear less and less resemblance to a leaf. Thus, the part which comes next is _semi-bearded_; that is to say, it is furnished with foliaceous appendages only on one side; and the two upper pieces are _beardless_, that is, reduced to the dilated central vein.

It was these metamorphic forms of the free portion of the calicinal foliola (united below) of the rose, which originated a well-known enigma, conveyed in the following Latin distich:--

"Quique sumus fratres, unus barbatus et alter,
Imberbes duo, sum semi-berbes duo, sum semi-berbes ego."

("We are brothers, both bearded, two beardless; I am two
half-bearded, and I myself am half-bearded.")

They are specially noticeable in a variety of the Rose of Bengal, in which all the petals seem to be transformed into calicinal leaves. (Fig. 44.)

* * * * *

The part of the calyx formed by the union of the sepals is called the _tube_: it is invariably the lower part. The upper portion, where the sepals are free, is the _limb_.

Throughout the vegetable kingdom you will not find a calyx in which the union of the sepals takes place at the top.

This time, at all events, we have found--what is exclusively rare in nature--a rule without an exception.

Generally, it is almost impossible to disunite, without rending, the foliola composing the tube of the calyx, their union is so complete. This circumstance prevented the first observers from accurately apprehending the composition and true development of the calyx. There are cases, nevertheless, in which Nature--the coquette!--suffers herself to be surprised, if her lover have patience. As an example we shall cite the monophyllous calyx of the Œnotheræ.

Let us take the species known as _Œnothera biennis_. It belongs, with the fuchsia, circæa, trapa, and others, to the Evening Primrose family, or Onograceæ.

Its pale yellow blossoms are unfolded during the hush of evening-time in almost every garden, shedding abroad on the breeze its delicate but delicious odour. Its petals open in a remarkable manner. The calyx, as we shall see, has small hooks attached to its upper extremity, by which it holds the flower together before expansion. The calicinal divisions gradually unfold at the lower part, and reveal the yellow flower, which remains awhile closed at the upper parts of the hooks. The flower then suddenly opens half-way, when it stops; afterwards completing its expansion gradually, and finally opening with a loud noise.

This curious plant is of American origin, and was unknown in our country until 1674, when it was introduced by some French floriculturists.

It opens generally at about six or seven o'clock in the evening.

And this statement induces me to digress. Where can I better introduce to the reader's notice a Floral Dial? It is not so complete as it might be made if I had space to enlarge upon the subject. My object, however, is simply to _suggest_; and this brief allusion to the hours at which flowers fold and unfold may induce the reader to study in more detail a very pleasant branch of botanical science. He will find full particulars in Mr Loudon's excellent "Encyclopædia of Gardening."

It is generally stated that the first Floral Dial, or clock, which showed the time by the opening or shutting up of blossoms throughout the day, was a fancy or invention of the great Swedish naturalist, Linnæus. But there is a distinct allusion to this poetical measurement of the "fleeting hours" in Marvell's poem on "The Garden:"--

"How well the skilful gardener drew
By flowers and herbs this dial new!
Where, from above, the milder sun
Does through a fragrant zodiac run;
And, as it works, the industrious bee
Computes its time as well as we.
How could such sweet and wholesome hours
Be reckoned but with herbs and flowers?"

Whether the idea first occurred to Englishman or Swede, poet or botanist, matters but little; it is a graceful, a suggestive, a beautiful idea, and might well be reproduced in some of our large public gardens.

"'Twas a lovely thought to mark the hours,
As they floated in light away,
By the opening and the folding flowers,
As they laugh to the summer's day.

"Thus had each moment its own rich hue,
And its graceful cup and bell,
In whose coloured vase might sleep the dew,
Like a pearl in an ocean shell."

FLORAL DIAL.

TIME AT WHICH THE FOLLOWING FLOWERS FOLD AND UNFOLD.

Open. Close.
H. M. H. M.
P.M. A.M.
Goat's Beard (Lat. syn. _Tragopogon luteum_), 9.10 3.5
Late-flowering Dandelion (_Leontodon serotinum_), 12.1 4.0
Hawkweed (_Picris echioides_), 12.0 4.5
Alpine Hawk's-beard (_Crepis Alpina_), 12.0 4.5
Wild Succory (_Cichorium intybus_), 7.0 5.0
Naked-stalked Poppy (_Papaver nudicaule_), 7.8 5.0
Copper-coloured Day-lily (_Hemerocallis fulva_), 11.12 5.0
Smooth Sow-thistle (_Sonchus lævis_), 12.0 5.0
Blue-flowered Sow-thistle (_Sonchus Alpinus_), 4.5 5.6
Field Bindweed (_Convolvulus arvensis_), 10.0 5.6
Common Nipplewort (_Lapsana communis_), 4.5 6.7
Spotted Cat's-ear (_Hypochæris maculata_), 5.0 7.0
White Water-lily (_Nymphæa alba_), 10.0 7.0
Garden Lettuce (_Lactuca sativa_), 3.4 7.0
African Marigold (_Tagetes erecta_), 2.0 8.0
Mouse-ear Hawkweed (_Hieracium piloscella_), 2.0 8.0
Proliferous Pink (_Dianthus proliferus_), 1.0 8.0
Field Marigold (_Calendula arvensis_), 3.0 9.0
Purple Sandwort (_Arenaria purpurea_), 2.3 9.10
Creeping Mallow (_Malva Caroliniana_), 12.1 9.10
Chickweed (_Stellaria media_), 9.10 9.10

After this long digression, we return to our Evening Primrose.

Its large yellow flowers are disposed in clusters at the top of a stem often twenty inches long. The Pythagorean tetrad (_i.e._, the number 4 and its double) predominates in all its organs: 4 stigmata crowning a filiform stylus; quadrangular capsule with 4 polyspermous lobes; opening at top by the separation of 4 valves; twice 4 stamens; 4 petals on a large, emarginated limb; 4 sepals. These are united at the base, but not so as to prevent the observer from distinguishing their number.

The general terms "regular" and "irregular," applied to the calyx, as to every other organ, require to be employed with considerable reserve. The delicate shades, which ought to separate regularity from irregularity, are often so inappreciable that it is almost impossible to say where one begins and the other ends. See, for example, the Labiatæ. In most genera and species of this family, the two lips, one of which consists of two and the other of three foliola, bring out very completely the inequality of the calyx. But there are also Labiatæ, the inequality of whose sepals completely effaces the character of the irregular bilabiated calyx.

In certain inflorescences, where the flowers comprising them are very close together, as, for example, in the capitules of the Synantheraceæ, the free upper portions of the calyx may take the most irregular forms; as, sometimes, a tuft, simple or feathery; sometimes, membranous or scarious spangles; and, sometimes, bristles of greater or less stiffness. What elements of the calyx do these transformations represent? The veins, and notably the midrib of the limb of the sepals, united underneath.

The free foliola of the _polyphyllous_ calyx may vary in form, like the caulinary leaves whence they issue by way of metamorphosis; they may be oval, elliptical, linear, &c. Yet none have ever been observed of a heart-shape (_cordiform_).

Certain foliola of the polyphyllous calyx affect fantastic outlines. In the _Delphinium_, the upper sepal is prolonged into a spur. In the aconites it is hollow like a helmet. The spur of the calyx of the monk's-hood (_Capucine_) is the result of the united prolongation of these foliola. The buckler (_Scutellum_), from which is named the _Scutellaria_, a genus of Labiatæ, is a demi-orbicular boss formed below the inferior lip of the calyx.

* * * * *

The union of the calicinal foliola sometimes forms a conical calyx, as in the _Silena conica_, and sometimes a cup-shaped calyx, as in the orange; sometimes, moreover, an urceolate calyx, as in the henbane (_Hyosciamus niger_). These forms may vary singularly. The calyx of the black alder (_Rhamnus frangula_) is shaped like a top; that of the haricot (_Phaseolus vulgaris_), like a bell; that of the tobacco-plant, or the _Mollucella spinosa_, is infundibuliform (or funnel-shaped).

The observer is sometimes embarrassed in deciding to which whorl he should refer the foliola he is examining. Thus, the tiny foliola which, in the strawberry and the potentilla, alternate with others and larger ones, are stipules rather than sepals. Ought the sepals of the calyx in the Malvaceæ to be assimilated in like manner to the stipules? It is difficult to reply to this question satisfactorily. Take, for example, the _Hibiscus Syriacus_, an ornamental shrub, better known by the name of the garden-hemp. The inner calyx, or calyx properly so called, of this Malvacea has five sepals, while the outer calyx, or calicule, has twelve. Now, a leaf cannot have more than two stipules, one on each side. For an outer calyx, then, the proper number of foliola is ten, not twelve. To look upon the second calyx as a "supernumerary development," would be to hazard a supposition contrary to the unity of plan of the floral organs.

* * * * *

The calyx, like the corolla, is not an absolutely indispensable organ. Sometimes, therefore, it is _caducous_--that is, falls off before the flower expands,--as in poppies; sometimes, _persistent_, or remains after flowering,--as in roses and the majority of plants. In some cases it is persistent only until after the act of fecundation, but this act accomplished, it falls with the corolla in most of the Cruciferæ and Ranunculaceæ. This is a _deciduous_ calyx.

The "caducity" and "persistency" of floral envelopes furnish some valuable characteristics for the distinction of species. Thus, two closely-allied Cruciferæ, the _Alyssum calicinum_, so common in spring upon stony soils, and the _Alyssum montanum_, can only be distinguished from one another by the fact that the calyx of the former is persistent, of the latter caducous. It is true that the flowers of the _Alyssum calicinum_ are of a yellow which easily passes into white, while those of the _Alyssum montanum_ are of a beautiful permanent yellow. But this latter distinction is not so good as the former.

The persistent calyx sometimes assumes a considerable increase of very common appearance. For example, take the _Physalis alkekengi_, a member of the Nightshade family or Solanaceæ. The red bladder-like accrescence surrounding the scarlet fruit is the calyx, which, after flowering, has grown much larger than it was before. And these bright flowers which resemble large strawberries, and abound on the borders of meadow-paths, if you look at them closely, you find to be the accrescent calices of the _Trifolium fragiferum_. The very word _fragiferum_ reminds us of the strawberry.

The calyx may change in consistency and texture in proportion as the ovary, to which it adheres, changes into fruit. The fleshy pulpy substance of the apple, and, in general, of the fruits of the Pomaceæ, is simply an excessive development of the calicinal tube united all around the ovary, and recognisable in the pips, imprisoned, towards the centre, in horny lobes. In other plants, as the flower develops into fruit, the calyx becomes woody: such is the case with the Water Chestnut (_Trappa natans_).

Finally, the calyx may even contribute to the dissemination of the seed. We may cite, as an example, a Brazilian species of Urticaceæ, which Saint-Hilaire named the _Elasticaria_. The fleshy and cylindrical parts of the calyx are curved inwards, and thus defend, as one might do with one's bended fingers, the young fruit until it is completely developed; as soon as the fruit is ripe, they spring up erect, and launch it to a distance.

* * * * *

_The Corolla._--If from the circumference we proceed to the centre of the flower, the calyx being the first, the _corolla_ will be its second envelope.

If, on the contrary, we proceed from the centre to the circumference, the corolla will form the fourth whorl; the pistil (consisting of stigmata, stylus, and ovary) being the first; the nectariferous disc (often wanting) the second; and the stamens the third whorl. Remarkable for its varied tints, the corolla, to indifferent or ignorant eyes, seems the entire flower.

A black or blackish colour is exceedingly rare. Out of 300 vegetable species which compose the flora of Central Europe, there are not six with blackish or even grayish flowers. No hypothesis has yet been put forward to explain this mark-worthy rarity.

Species with a yellow corolla are the most numerous, forming more than a sixth of the European flora: then come, in their order of frequency, species with green, white, red, and blue flowers; the white increasing in number as we approach the Pole.

Dividing the flora into twenty parts, we may ascribe to each colour, and its various tints, the following proportion:--

Yellow, 6.0
Green, 4.50
White, 4.0
Red, 3.50
Blue, 1.50
Black, 0.50

The analogy between the parts or _petals_ of the corolla and the leaf, is perhaps not quite so striking as between the leaf and the _sepals_ of the calyx. The phrase "rose-leaves" is an expression consecrated by immemorial usage. Why not prefer the term "corollary leaves or leaflets (_foliola_)" to that of petals?

The corollary leaves, or petals, are organised like true leaves. They have the same system of venation; their _lamina_ correspond to the "limb," or "blade;" and their _unguis_, or "claw," to the "petiole," or stalk. (See Fig. 46, _a_.) The upper margin of petals is frequently more obtuse than the overspreading margin of the blade of a leaf, which, in most cases, is pointed. Non-_unguiculate_ petals represent the _sessile_ leaves. (Fig. 46, _b_.) Their form is much more varied than that of the calicinal foliola, which are never unguiculate or petiolated.

FIG. 46, _b_.--A Sessile Petal.]

The petal is defined as _regular_ when its two halves, folded one upon another at the midrib, exactly cover each other; in the opposite case it is called _irregular_. In certain species, the petals are furnished with characteristic appendages. But observe, these appendages, which generally affect the form of a spur, have no character of generality. Thus, for example, in the violet, a single petal is prolonged into a spur below its point of attachment; in larkspur, and the other _Delphiniums_, there are two which terminate in the same manner; in the _Aquilegia vulgaris_, all the petals are _calcarate_ (_calcar_, a spur).

According as the veins of the petal proceed in a straight or curved direction, its limb may be flat, or concave, or hollowed like a boat--_i.e._, _cymbiform_ (_cymba_, a boat), or _naviculate_ (_navis_, a ship), or like a spoon, _cochleariform_ (_cochleare_, a spoon). When the spur is very short, as in Antirrhinum and Valerian, the corolla or petal is termed _gibbous_ (_gibbus_, a swelling), or _saccate_ at the base.

If a petal continue narrow, so as to seem formed by the prolongation of the claw, it is called _linear_; if the limb be prolonged below, so as to form two lobes, it is _cordate_, as in _Genista caudicans_; or if the lobes be acute, it may be _sagittate_ or _hastate_.

* * * * *

The _number_ of petals varies from two to twelve, and more. A corolla with a single petal, _unipetalous_, which we must not confound with the _monopetalous_ corolla, is a monstrosity, created by defective development; the other petals or foliola are abortive. A corolla with two petals, or _dipetalous_, as in _Circæa Lutetiana_, is rare. A _tripetalous_ corolla occurs only when the calyx has likewise three foliola. But in this instance opinions are divided: the majority will not admit more than a single floral envelope,--a perianth of six foliola, of which three, herbaceous and internal, alternate with three petaloid and external.

Many of our aquatic plants may be quoted as examples: such as the _Butomus umbellatus_, or flowering rush; the little frog-bit, or _Hydrocharis morsus ranæ_; and the water plantain, _Alisma plantago_.

The _tetrapetalous_ (or four-petalled) corolla is usually arranged like a cross, and is much more frequent than the _dipetalous_ or _tripetalous_; for examples, we need only refer to the large and important family of the Cruciferæ.

The number five (_pentapetalous_) is still more common; but we meet with it in other organs besides petals, and it seems particularly characteristic of the vegetable kingdom.

Thus, all the Umbelliferæ have five sepals, five petals, and five stamens; in all the Crassulaceæ, the number five applies, not only to the sepals and the petals, as well as to the stamens, but also to the carpels which compose the ovary.

Corollas with six, eight, nine, ten, or twelve petals are relatively rarer; and when the petals become so numerous that we cannot count them, we have to deal with transformations of stamens into petals, with those monstrosities of cultivation which we call double flowers, _flores pleni_, where all the male organs have disappeared,--flowers wholly unfit for fructification.

The petals of the corolla are not always free. Like those of the calyx, they may be attached to one another by their edges, but this union invariably takes place, as in the former, from bottom to top. Therefore, we never see any petals united at the top, and disengaged at the bottom (see Fig. 47, _a_.) But the reader must take careful note that this invariable characteristic is not peculiar only to the floral envelopes; it is not met with in the stamens, for these may be united, either by their anthers, as in the whole family of the Synantheræ, or by their filaments, as in the Leguminosæ. And what we have said of the stamens applies also to the parts constituting the pistil. This radical difference between the perianth and the true reproductive organs ought, from the beginning, to have fixed the attention of botanists on the centripetal and centrifugal metamorphosis of the leaf, which we have spoken of in "The Circle of the Year."

* * * * *

In many plants we are permitted to follow step by step, as it were, the union of the petals, and their definitive transformation into what is called the _monopetalous_ corolla. The term _monopetaloid_ ought then to be rejected, if we are to believe that the _monopetalous_ corolla is the result of the metamorphosis of a single leaf. The word _gamopetalous_, or, rather, _gamophyllous_, is preferable. As we have remarked in reference to the calyx, we shall here repeat that the expressions _bilobed_, _trilobed_, _quadrilobed_, or _bipartite_, _tripartite_, _quadripartite_ corollas, are radically vicious, because they are the consequence of a false point of view, according to which the _monopetalous_ corolla will be simply a single metamorphosed leaf, susceptible of being more or less deeply divided from top to bottom.

The polypetalous corolla, as well as the gamophyllous corolla, may be regular or irregular, according as the foliola are equally or unequally united. But here again we must be careful not to lay down too absolute rules. Examine, for instance, the gamophyllous corolla of the gentians; their two lobes are very unequal, and yet the corolla is regular: five very large lobes alternate with five very small, in such wise that each of the latter is situated between two larger lobes. Each division of the corolla of the periwinkle is irregular, and yet the aggregate of their divisions is regular: these are all of the same form and the same size.

In the gamophyllous corolla we are able to discern, through the different forms it assumes, the form of the parts which compose the union. Thus, for example, the _tubulate_ corolla supposes the pre-existence of unguiculate petals.

* * * * *

Inequality of union produces the _bilabiate_ corolla, which is invariably tubular. This is the case in the natural family of the Labiatæ. The upper lip is composed of two petals, and the lower of three. The parts of the upper are sometimes so closely joined that they appear to be but one, as in the _Lamium_; and the lower often becomes quadrilobed by the division of the middle petal, as in the _Stæcha_.

In the labiated corolla, the mouth of the tube is open, while in the _personate_ or _masked_ (_persona_, a mask) it is closed by the pressure of the lower lip against the upper; as in Snapdragon and Frogsmouth, the projection of the lower lip being called the _palate_. By this feature the family of the Scrophulariaceæ is easily distinguished from that of the Labiatæ.

In some corollas, the two lips are hollowed out in a very singular fashion, as in the Calceolaria; assuming a "slipper-like appearance," similar to what takes place in the labellum of certain orchids,--to wit, the _Cypripedium_. These _calceolate_ (_calceolus_, a slipper) corollas may be looked upon as consisting of two slipper-like lips.

* * * * *

The forms of the bilabiate, tubular, and ligulose florets, of the capitula of the Synantheræ, are likewise due to simple differences of union. The floscular capitulum comprises the tubular florets, and the semi-floscular capitulum, the ligulate florets; the radiate capitulum consists of florets ligulate or bilabiate at the circumference, and of tubular florets over the rest of the receptacle. By considering the capitula, as the vulgar do, to be flowers, Tournefort introduced considerable confusion into the nomenclature of the Synantheræ.

SUMMER FLOWERS.

"Dawn, gentle flower,
From the morning earth!
We will gaze and wonder
At thy wondrous birth!

"Bloom, gentle flower,
Lover of the light,
Sought by wind and shower,
Fondled by the night!"[61]

THE PRUNELLA, OR SELF-HEAL.

In your summer-walks, dear reader,--summer-walks through green lanes rejoicing in the shade of over-arching elms, or along woodland glades, carpeted with odorous turf,--you must frequently have met with an herbaceous plant, whose purple-blue flowers, arranged in regular succession, form the prettiest coloured cones imaginable at the extremity of the stem and branches. To this plant, the self-heal, we shall return immediately. Perhaps you have passed it by somewhat indifferently, for we pay little heed to common things, and on the threshold of woods, and in their winding avenues, the self-heal is very common. The celebrated German botanist, Bock (or Tragus) bestowed upon it, two centuries before the epoch of Linnæus, the name of _Prunella vulgaris_. The specific appellation, _vulgaris_, is here employed very appropriately, but we should commit a grave error if we supposed every species qualified as _vulgaris_ to be "common." For example, the _Lysimachia vulgaris_, a species of Primulaceæ, is far from being found everywhere.

Pray, take the trouble to pick one lowly specimen; being specially careful to take up the whole plant, stem, root, and branch. Lying along the ground, it seems larger than it really is. Its root is a creeper; at the level of the insection of the leaves some small shoots project, the fibrous radicles which compel the lower part of the stem to crawl like the bugle, _Ajuga reptans_.

Does the prunella belong to the family of Labiatæ, like the bugle?

See for yourself. The stem is quadrangular; the branches and leaves composed of two lips. The stamens are four in number, two of which are longer than the others; finally, by means of a lens, you can easily distinguish, at the very bottom of the calyx, four tiny seeds (a _tetrachænium_) grouped around the style. These features indicate that our plant belongs, in effect, like the bugle, to the Labiatæ family.

But mark the difference. In the bugle, as in all the species of the same genus (_Ajuga_), as well as in all the _Teucriums_--of which wild sage (_Teucrium scorodonia_) is the most widely-diffused type--in all the Labiatæ, the corolla is apparently _unilabiate_,--that is to say, the upper lip is so shortened that only the lower is prominently visible. This is not the case with our self-heal: it is distinctly bilabiate. The upper lip of the corolla here forms a positive _hood_, sufficiently ample to protect the didynamous stamens (two long and two short), as in Fig. 50, _a_; the lower lip is three-lobed, and the central lobe is largest of the three. By separating the two lips, you can see the two short stamens fixed to the base of the lower one, and the two long attached to the central part of the upper. (See Fig. 50, _b_.)

Let us pursue the analysis of the flowery cone you hold in your hand.

The least practical eye is immediately struck by the arrangement of the parts and the variety of the colours. To recognise these things more thoroughly, please to cast your glances alternately from the top to the base, and from the base to the apex of its terminal flower. A little below the base you will see a pair of opposite, entire, and sinuous leaves, with shorter stalks than any of the others. The base is defined by two opposite, whitish, and nearly triangular leaves, with green points. The top of the floral spike is likewise marked by a couple of bracts; but these are much smaller, and red-coloured, like the two leaves of the calyx. The interval is occupied by bracts, which diminish in size from the base to the top of the spike; on a level with each pair six flowers are inserted, three for each bract.

The flowers, thus arranged by whorls, present some interesting peculiarities. The lower and upper show only their reddish calices; the middle, for the most part, display both a calyx and a corolla, varying from blue to pale-rose, which gives the plant a very peculiar appearance. In the under flowers, the corolla has already fallen; by separating the lips of the calyx, you may catch sight of the tetrachænium, that is, the four-seeded fruit, which is developed at the bottom of the tube. In the upper flowers, the corolla is not yet expanded. It resembles a small deep-coloured globe; you may say an eye, a bull's-eye, which, from the depths of the calyx, regards you with a piercing glance. Hence, perhaps, the French name for this plant, _prunelle_, an eye.

* * * * *

We often meet with a variety of self-heal with a white corolla, green calyx, and pinnatifid leaves, a variety of which some botanists have erroneously made a separate species, under the name of _Prunella alba_. It is equally wrong, in our opinion, to convert the large-flowered variety into a distinct species, by taking as its specific character the _lateral cleft of the upper lip of the calyx overlapping the middle cleft_; for this same characteristic is found in many individuals of the common species. The _dentiform appendage_ which the two longest stamens exhibit at the top of their filaments is also an uncertain feature; you must have recourse to your magnifying-glass to see if this appendage is _obtuse_ and very short, as in the large-flowered prunella, or _sharp_, as in the common species. As for the size of the corolla, it is, in fact, very marked; but, as a characteristic, is wholly insufficient. The creation of the varieties _Pinnatifida_, _Laciniifolia_, and _Integrifolia_ is no better justified. For it is no rare thing to see on the same stalk, at different heights, pinnatifid, whole, and laciniate leaves.

The prunella is remarkable for the long hairs which garnish the calyx, and, principally, the edges of the bracts. Examined in the microscope, they assume the form of tiny, pointed bamboos; the knots bulge out a little, and the intervals are punctuated.

The botanists of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries are by no means sparing in their eulogiums on the marvellous virtues of our flower, which, by the way, Bock (Tragus) was the first to figure with tolerable accuracy.[62]

Tournefort thus dwells upon its medicinal properties:--

"It forms an ingredient in arquebusade water and vulnerary potions. It is ordered in possets and broths, in apozèmes for the spitting of blood, dysentery, hæmorrhages, and the like. It has also been used for ulcers in the mouth, and a remedy against headaches; after being mixed with rose-oil and vinegar, the temples were bathed with it."

In the Pharmacopœia of to-day, however, it finds no place.

THE SCUTELLARIA.

At the first glance, the Scutellaria has no resemblance to the prunella. Yet the classificators have united these plants in one small tribe, under the name of _Scutellarinaceæ_. These are the characters which they give to them: Lower or anterior stamens longer than the superior or posterior; calyx closed at maturity by the approximation of the two lips. The latter character is not nearly so marked in the prunella as in the scutellaria.

The two commonest species of scutellaria in England are the _Scutellaria galericulata_ and _Scutellaria minor_. They do not inhabit the same localities. The former, which is at the same time the commonest, grows on the river-banks, and especially delights in the mould accumulated in the hollow trunks of old willows. It is easily known by its tender blue corolla, but especially by its calyx, which, after the fall of the corolla, develops itself in a singular manner. If you compress its sides, it will open so as to disclose, at the bottom of its throat, its seeds, which are white, red, or brown, according to their degrees of maturity. (Fig. 52, _a_.) Now look at these two _jaws_: the upper resembles a small helmet (Lat. _galericula_), or, if you prefer it, a judge's cap. As for the lower, it has exactly the shape of a shield (Lat. _scutum_),--whence its name, _scutellaria_. (Fig. 52, _b_.) Thus, the emblems of military and judicial rank are found united in the calyx of our pretty labiate.

The second species (_Scutellaria minor_), rarer than the former, is met with on the banks of ponds and in damp woodland paths. It attracts your gaze by its tiny caps or helmets: the moment you see it, you exclaim, "That's a scutellaria!" More diminutive in all its parts than its congener, it is also distinguished by its whole leaves (they are crenelated or dentate in the _Scutellaria galericulata_), by its soft, rose-hued corolla, with brown lips coquettishly pointed with red, and by its hairy calyx.

The _Scutellaria Columnæ_[63] is very rare. It may be recognised by its erect stems and flowers of a bright violet hue, arranged in terminal spikes and garnished with bracts; while the flowers are axillary, and form no spike, in the two species above described.

The _Scutellariæ_ were first described with accuracy and classified by Linnæus, who included them among his _Didynamia_, a class of vegetables distinguished by the unequal length of the stamens.

THE FORGET-ME-NOT.

"Ye field flowers! the gardens eclipse you, 'tis true;
Yet, wildlings of nature, I dote upon you,
For ye waft me to summers of old,
When the earth beamed around me with fairy delight,
And daisies and buttercups gladdened my sight,
Like treasures of silver and gold.

"Even now, what affections the violet awakes!
What loved little islands, far seen in the lakes,
Can the wild water-lily restore!
What landscapes I read in the primrose's looks!
What pictures of pebbles and minnowy brooks
In the vetches that tangle the shore!"[64]

"How beautiful," says Miss Pratt, in one of her agreeable little books,[65]--"how beautiful are the little islands of the stream, edged with the tall white meadow sweet, which sends its perfume far up over the green lands that lie around, and contrasts with the deep blue colour of the purple loose-strife! The willow herb, or codlins-and-cream, as the children call it, grows in perfection there; and there, too, bloom the little yellow water-flag, and the vetches, and the rich water-lily, which, seated on its round leaf, seems to swim over the crystal stream. The water-plantain, with its numerous small pink blossoms, grows in thick clusters quite down in the water, mingling with the white flowers and large spear-shaped leaves of the arrow-head, or half shading the large cup of the yellow water-lily. Then, too, the blue-eyed forget-me-not covers the little isles in such abundance that many of them well deserve the name of azure islands. The water-rat hides among the flowers, nibbling with much glee at the arrow-head, or rushing out from under its broad green leaves; and the water-fowl, followed by her young, sails across the stream in all the stateliness of matron dignity; and the little meek-eyed daisy grows beside the yellow velvet flower of the silver-weed, or the blue blossoms and succulent leaves of the brook-lime."

The _true_ Forget-me-not, _Myosotis palustris_, is invariably found in marshy localities or on the banks of streams; but the Meadow Scorpion-grass, _Myosotis arvensis_, is frequently mistaken for it. The "genuine article" has a bright blue blossom, much smaller than, but in shape something resembling, the primrose; in its bract it has a drop of gold, and on each segment of the coloured portion of the flower is a small streak or fleck of white.

Both the true forget-me-not and the false belong to the Borage family, or Boraginaceæ, which includes sixty-seven known genera, and nearly nine hundred species.

It is said that after the battle of Waterloo, a remarkable number of forget-me-nots sprung up all over the fatal field. The circumstance might well be made the theme of a poet's lay, were it not for a suspicion that the little blue flowers belonged to the _Myosotis arvensis_ species, and not to the _Myosotis palustris_.

But why _Myosotis_? This Greek compound surely means "mouse-ear," and what have these plants to do with the auricular organs of mice? Why, their leaves were supposed to resemble in form the ear of _Mus domesticus_. The name of "scorpion-grass" originated in the fact that the top of the stem coils round while the buds are unblown, like a scorpion's tail. It is strange how quick the common people have been to detect these analogies, and to perpetuate them in the appellations they have bestowed on the flowers of the meadow, the wood, and the green lane.

The singularly beautiful name of the _Myosotis palustris_--we mean its common and non-scientific name,--is ascribed, in a well-known German legend, to the dying knight who, having ventured at a dangerous spot to pluck a handful of the bright blue blossoms for his lady-love, fell into the stream, and as he sank, flung the dear-bought spoil towards her, exclaiming, "Forget me not!"

A more probable origin is suggested by Miss Strickland. "Henry of Lancaster (Henry IV.)," she says, "appears to have been the person who gave it its emblematical and poetical meaning, by uniting it, at the period of his exile, with the initial letters of his watchword, _Souveigne vous de moi_; thus rendering it the symbol of remembrance, and, like the subsequent fatal roses of York and Lancaster and Stuart, the lily of Bourbon, and the violet of Napoleon, an historical flower."

* * * * *

We have said that the scorpion-grass belongs to the natural family Boraginaceæ, which receives its name from the common borage, a bright blue flower with very rough leaves. All its members are rough or hairy, except those which, like the forget-me-not, become smooth from living partly under water. The black stalks of the borage burn, it is said, like match-paper, and its root enters largely into the composition of rouge. Its flowers were at one time held in great respect as a wholesome bitter ingredient for a tankard of ale. According to Pliny, "if the leaves and flowers of the borage be immersed in wine, and that wine drunken, the potion will make men blithe and merry, and drive away all heavy sadness and dull melancholy."

Burton, in his "Anatomy of Melancholy," also says of it--

"Borage and hellebore fill two scenes,
Sovereign plants to purge the veins
Of melancholy, and cheer the heart
Of those black fumes which make it smart."

Most of the Boraginaceæ are weeds, but they include a few ornamental garden-flowers; as, for example, the Peruvian heliotrope--the "cherry-pie" of the children--which is well known for the fragrance of its blue blossoms. Its Greek name refers to an ancient belief that it always "turned" to meet the sun; but neither heliotrope nor sunflower exhibits any such devotedness towards the great "orb of day." The poet's comparison--

"As the sunflower turns to his God, when he sets,
The same look that he turned when he rose"--

is very pretty and suggestive, but unfortunately it is not true.

THE LILIES.

Are we justified in classing these among our summer flowers? Well, the lily of the valley may, perhaps, be more justly claimed by Spring, as it generally unveils its beauty in the month of May; but the water-lily belongs to Summer; and, at all events, it will be most convenient to speak of them in this category.

The lily of the valley (_Convallaria majalis_),--the May-lily of old writers,--has long been a favourite type of retiring modesty and tender loveliness. It affects the silence and solitude of the woodlands, where, in the shadow of broad leaves and sweeping branches, the inquiring botanist discovers--

"Like detected light,
Its little green-tipt lamps of white."

Shakspeare, who neglected nothing, refers to its gentle humility of attitude:--

"Shipwrecked upon a kingdom where no pity,
No friends, no hope, no kindred weep for me;
Almost no grave allowed me! like the lily
That once was mistress of the field, and flourished,
I'll hang my head and perish."

Our lily is a native of cold and temperate countries, and never shakes its pendant bells at the bidding of a hot Eastern breeze. It is very abundant in Norway. That agreeable writer and observant traveller, Henry Inglis, says:--"It stood everywhere around, scenting the air, and in such profusion, that it was scarcely possible to step without bruising its tender stalks and blossoms. I have not seen this flower mentioned in any enumeration of Norwegian plants, but it grows in all the western parts of Norway in latitude 59° and 60°, wherever the ground is free from forest, in greater abundance than any other wild-flower."

As it will not live in hot countries, it cannot be the "lily of the field" which furnished our Saviour with so fruitful a text for warning and instruction. This, in all probability, was the yellow amaryllis, or _Amaryllis lutea_, a flower bearing some resemblance to our yellow crocus, but much larger, and with broader leaves. Its delicate blossoms escape from an undivided spathe, or sheath, and are bell-shaped, with six clefts and six stamens, which are alternately short and long. The flower seldom rises more than three or four inches above the soil, accompanied by green leaves, which, after the flowering has passed, continue to preserve their freshness throughout the winter.

But some authorities are not content with the yellow amaryllis, and put forth as the _true_ "lily of the field," either the narcissus, or the golden lily, or the stately crinum, according to their several tastes.

* * * * *

Not connected with these flowers by any botanical relationship, and surpassing them all in beauty, is the _Water-lily_ (_Nymphæa alba_), whose large round leaves and full white blossoms are the glory of so many of our secluded lakes and quiet streams. Everybody knows old Izaak Walton's quaint eulogium on the strawberry: "Doubtless God _could_ have made a better fruit, but doubtless He never hath." In like manner I am inclined to say: "Doubtless God might have created a fairer flower, but doubtless He never hath." Alas! like most things rare and beautiful, its existence is very brief! pluck it, and straightway it vanishes,--like a poet's dream, the moment he attempts to realise it.

It is sometimes asserted of our wild water-lily that it retires below the surface of the stream shortly after noon, remaining in the liquid depths during night, and rising again into the light of day at early dawn. Those who are acquainted with the haunts and habits of these beautiful flowers know that this is not strictly correct, as they may often be seen, "by the pale moonlight," lying folded above the water. It is not impossible, however, that _some_ may sink; and certain it is, that as the sun sets they close their silver vases.

"Broad-leaved are they, and their white canopies
Are upward turned to catch the heaven's dew."

So says Keats; but this is true only while the sun is asserting his supremacy in the azure sky. And then, the spectacle of a calm, rush-fringed pool, nestling in the shadow of some ancient elms or drooping willows, and brightened by the uplifted cups of our delicate naiads, is a scene of surpassing beauty. We turn from this favourite flower regretfully, "murmuring," as novelists say, Mrs Hemans's graceful apostrophe:--

"Oh! beautiful thou art,
Thou sculpture-like and stately river queen,
Crowning the depths as with the light serene
Of a pure heart!

"Bright lily of the wave!
Rising in fearless grace with every swell,
Thou seem'st as if a spirit meekly brave
Dwelt in thy cell!"

Permit me, reader, another quotation. I take it from your and my favourite, Wordsworth:--

"Rapturously we gather flowery spoils
From land and water; lilies of each hue,
_Golden and white_, that float upon the waves,
And court the wind."

The lily of golden hue, the _yellow water-lily_, is the _Nuphar lutea_ of botanists. The country people, on account of its peculiar scent, most unpoetically call it "brandy-bottle." It is far more plentiful than the regal nymphæa; its flower is not so full of petals; and it is by no means so handsome. Yet, with its smooth, glossy leaves, and golden cups, and long floating stems, it favourably attracts the eye. We are told that "its roots are nutritious, and are frequently powdered and eaten for bread in Sweden;" that, mixed with the bark of the Scotch fir, they form a cake much relished by the Swedes; in which case the Swedish palate certainly cannot be censured as fastidious. "These roots are also burnt on the hearths of farmhouses, because their smoke is reputed to drive away the crickets, whose chirping is sometimes too loud and shrill to be deemed musical." Assuredly this is untrue of many parts of England, as the cricket is popularly supposed to be "lucky," and no old country-wife would allow it to be driven away from her sanctum.

The water-lily of the East, the beautiful Lotus,--the _Nelumbium speciosum_, which is figured on so many Egyptian and Indian monuments,--is rich in blue and red, as well as in white blossoms. These are said to sink quite below the surface in the evening and during the night shadows; whence Moore says of them, with his artificial prettiness--

"Those virgin lilies, all the night
Bathing their beauties in the lake,
That they may rise more fresh and bright
When their beloved sun's awake."

It was formerly abundant on the Nile, and the Egyptians consecrated it to their supreme god, Osiris; but, with the splendour and mysticism of ancient Egypt, it has completely passed away.