I am ready to maintain, against all assailants of the position, that
the person who can feel so deep an interest in any of the works of God
as to find, in the investigation of them, employment for time which
might otherwise hang a little heavily on hand, and occupation of an
innocent and even of a useful nature for an active mind, has a decided
advantage over one who has no such resource. And I further maintain,
that there is not one single object in created nature, from the drop
of ditch-water which occupies the attention of Herr von Creep-crawl,
up to the 'serried host' of angels and archangels who inhabit the
realms of light, which does not present matter worthy of the study and
attention of an inquiring and intelligent mind. Having delivered this
defiance, I shall now ask my readers to take another walk round my
garden, and examine the climbers which cover my walls, and listen to
my Treatise on Holdfasts, as I call those appendages of plants which
assist them in climbing.[3]
The very first specimen to which we come, is one of that very pretty
tribe the _Clematideæ_, the _Clematis montana_, which is closely
covering a wall of ten feet high, and at least twenty in width, thence
throwing out its branches, extending itself over the adjacent wall of
the house, and occasionally sending a stray shoot or two to adorn my
neighbour's garden. Now, how do those slight, long stems, which
stretch, some of them twenty or thirty feet from the parent stalk,
support and arrange themselves so as to preserve a neat and ornamental
appearance without my having had the least trouble in training them?
If you gather one of those loose branches, you will see that it has no
tendril of any kind, or other apparent means of support; but this,
like all others of the clematideæ or clematis tribe, possesses a power
of twisting the leaf-stalk round a wire, twig, or anything else that
comes in its way, so as to tie the plant to the support with as firm a
knot as could be made with a piece of string; and after thus
encircling the wire, it returns the leaf to its former position, with
the upper side outwards, exactly as it was before. Some of the
clematis tribe make this fulcrum from one part of the leaf-stalk, and
some from another. In that which we are examining, it is formed from
the lowest part next the main stalk of the plant. In the wild clematis
(_C. vitalba_)--that kind which runs so freely over hedges and
thickets in the southern counties, adorning the country in winter with
snowy tufts of feathers, formed by its seed-vessels--a part of the
stalk between two pair of the leaflets forms this twist; whilst in the
sweet-scented garden-clematis, other parts of the stem give the
support: but it is always by means of some portion or other of this
member, that plants of this tribe are sustained in their rapid and
extensive climbing. It is curious to observe what instinctive aptitude
to curve towards suitable objects, and towards them only, is exhibited
in the holdfasts of climbing-plants. They never bend towards a wall,
board, or other flat substance, when there is nothing to lay hold of;
but the moment they touch a suitable object, they instantly fix on it,
forming closely compacted rings, which can be untwisted only when
young. As the plant rises from one height to another, the little green
shoots above send out fresh leaves, each having the same prehensile
properties, which they keep in reserve till called on to apply them to
their proper use; whilst at the same time, the lower rings are
becoming indurated, so that, as the plant grows longer and heavier,
its supports become stronger and harder. There are other plants
besides the clematideæ which thus support themselves, of which the
_Maurandya Barclayana_ and the _Canariensis_ are examples; and the
manner in which these accommodate themselves to the exact form of the
object on which they seize, is very remarkable. If the support is
round, the ring is also round; but if they fix on a square lath, or
other angular thing, the stem forms to it, so that when the prop is
removed, the ring retains the exact form of that prop, every angle
being as sharp and true, as if it were moulded in wax.
Now, the next plant which greets us is the ivy (_Hedera helix_), and
this differs wholly in its means of support from almost any other
creeper; yet there is none that takes firmer hold, or maintains more
strongly its position, than this beautiful creeper, whose ceaseless
verdure well deserves the name of ivy--a word derived from the Celtic,
and signifying _green_. It is supported by means of a whitish fringe
of fibres, that are thrust out from one side of every part of the stem
which comes in contact with any wall or other supporting object to
which it can cling. Should a foreign substance, such as a leaf,
intervene between it and that object, the fibres lengthen until they
extend beyond the impediment; and then they fix on the desired object,
and cease to grow.
These fibres, however; are not true roots--a branch with only such
roots, would not grow if planted in the earth--they are mere
holdfasts, and the plant does not receive any portion of its
nourishment through them. The upper part of the plant, where it has
mounted above the wall and become arborescent, is wholly devoid of
such fibres, which never appear but when they have some object to fix
upon.
And now, let us look at that which is the very pride of my garden, and
which well deserves the name bestowed on it by a poetic-minded
friend--'the patrician flower:' I mean the beautiful _Cobea scandens_;
and here we are introduced to quite a different class of holdfasts
from either of those which we have examined. The blossom of the cobea
is formed of a curious and elegantly-formed calyx of five angles,
exquisitely veined, and of a tender green--itself a flower, or, at
least, when divested of its one bell-shaped petal, _looking_ like one.
From this calyx slowly unfolds a noble bell, at first of a soft,
creamy green; but the second day of its existence it becomes tinged
and veined with a delicate plum colour, which on the third day is its
prevailing hue. The blossom is then in its full perfection; the
vigorous green filaments supporting the anthers curve outwards; the
long anthers, in the same manner as those of the white lily, open
lengthways, and disclose rich masses of yellow pollen; whilst the
single pistil stands gracefully between its five supporters, crowned
with a globular purple style. On the last day or two of its existence,
the bell is of a full, deep puce colour, and then drops, leaving the
calyx bare, from which in due time is developed a handsome fruit,
something like that of the passion-flower. The flower-stalk is from
four to six inches long, and stands finely out from the wall, many
blossoms being exhibited at the same time in different stages of
development.
But now of the holdfast, which is our special subject. And this needs
to be of a strong kind, for the branches of this plant have been
known, in an English conservatory, to run to the length of 200 feet in
one summer; and no doubt, in its native Mexico, where it has nothing
to impede its growth, its shoots run even more freely. Behold, then,
at distances of from three to four inches, all up the main stem; and
also, on every shoot and branch which that stem throws out, grows a
leaf, composed of three pair of leaflets, beautifully veined, and
tinted with reddish purple, from between the last pair of which
springs a tendril of extreme elegance. Indeed, noble as is this plant
in every part, I think this tendril is the crowning grace of the
whole: it is exceedingly slender, throwing off side-branches, which,
again, repeatedly fork off at acute angles in pairs, and each
extremity of each branch is furnished with a minute and delicate hook,
so small as to be scarcely perceptible, but so strong and
sharp-pointed as to lay hold of every object in its way--which hold it
retains, when once well fixed, in spite of wind or weather. If this
tendril remains long unattached, it becomes elongated to ten or twelve
inches, or even more; and certainly a more elegant object than it
presents when in this state can scarcely be seen, nor one which forms
a more graceful ornament to a vase of flowers, if introduced as it
grows, depending from one of the vigorous young purple shoots, itself
shining with a sort of metallic lustre, and richly coloured with green
and purple. But it is only on the loose young shoots that it assumes
this very graceful appearance. If it is sufficiently near to a wall,
or other support, instead of thus hanging pendent, its main stalk
nearest the leaf contracts into a spiral form, thus shortening the
tendril, and giving it greater power than so frail and slight a thing
could otherwise possess; and the elasticity produced by the
convolutions enables the branch slightly to yield to the influence of
the wind, which makes it less likely to be torn down. Each extremity,
as I have said, is armed with a hook, which hook, as soon as it
touches, lays firm hold on the wall; and these tendrils occurring
close together, and a large proportion of them fixing on some object,
a wonderfully strong support is afforded to the plant. This plant is
called by some people, 'the violet-bearing ivy,' although no leaf or
blossom can be less like the ivy or the violet than that of the cobea.
And now, let us pass onwards. There is another tendriled plant, the
passion-vine; and this has a cirrus or tendril quite of a different
kind from that we have just examined. It is simple and unbranched,
springing from the axil of the leaf, straight when young, but speedily
becoming spiral, and forming a very close twist round whatever object
it seizes. It is spiral to within an inch, or less, of its root, and
encircles its support with six or seven circlets like a corkscrew,
thus clasping it with great firmness. This has no hook or other
appendage which would enable it to fix on a wall or other flat
substance; and therefore, unless there are wires, or some other
extraneous supports near, it must be nailed until it reaches a certain
height, when its own stalks supply the requisite props on which the
tendrils may lay hold. The grape and many other vines are furnished
with tendrils, which spring from the root of the leaf-stalk; that of
the grapevine is slightly branched, but not furnished with any hook.
One of its tendrils usually grows close to the stem of the fruit, and
thus sustains the heavy bunch of grapes which must otherwise, when it
increases to a weight of many pounds, either break from its stem, or
else pull down the branch on which it grows.
And now we approach the beautiful _Ipomoea_, or major convolvulus,
which affords us a specimen of quite a different mode of progression
from that displayed in any creeper we have as yet looked at, for it
has neither tendril nor fibrous roots. 'Oh, that _must_ be a mistake!'
says some fine lady. 'My last Berlin pattern was of convolvuli, and
that lovely group of flowers I copied had several blossoms in it, and
I am sure there were _plenty_ of tendrils in both.' No doubt, fair
lady; but convolvuli in Berlin patterns, and those which are wrought
in 'nature's looms,' differ wonderfully. In the former, not only the
climbing convolvulus, but the common blue one (_C. minor_), is richly
furnished with tendrils, whilst those of Dame Nature display no such
appendage. Now, take a real flower of this tribe--the common bind-weed
from the hedge will do as well as any other--and you will see that the
means provided for it to run up any stick or stem it may meet, is a
peculiar property it has, of twining its _stem_ round and round that
of any other plant near it; and so strong is this necessity to assume
a spiral coil, or rather to twist and unite itself with some other
stem, that you may often see two, three, or four sister-stalks of the
same plant inwreathed into one stout cable, which union, though it
does not enable the feeble stems to ascend, yet seems to increase
their strength. But supply the young shoot with a stick or wire, or
even a bit of twine, and see how rapidly it will then climb, and
clasp, and throw out longer and stronger shoots, and overspread your
wall with its large bell-shaped flowers, so brilliant with every tint
of white, lilac, pink, and rose colour, and so exquisitely delicate in
their texture, expanding at earliest dawn, and closing, never to
reopen, when the fervid rays of the noonday sun fall on them! But I
must not attempt to depict every variety of holdfast, or every
provision for climbing with which it has pleased God to invest and
beautify the different kinds of creeping-plants: it would detain us
far too long; yet Mrs Grimshawe owes it to herself, to justify her
devotion to the holdfast of the Virginian creeper (_Ampelopsis
hederacea_), and that must be described.
Every one knows this plant, for although a native of North America, it
is now one of the commonest coverings of our walls, as well as one of
the prettiest we see. Its beautiful cut leaves are divided into five
lobes, which, when first developed, are of a bright light-green, while
the whole of the young stem and shoot is red; those take, by degrees,
a deeper hue of green, and early in the autumn assume a brilliant
scarlet tint, at which time they are very lovely. The means by which
this plant takes so firm a hold of whatever supports it, is highly
curious. From the stem of the tree is sent out on one side a leaf, and
exactly opposite to it a shining, thread-like tendril, tinged with
red, from one to one and a half inches long, dividing into five
branches, and each terminating in a little hook. When one of these
little hooks touches a wall, or comes in contact with anything it is
able to cling to, it begins to thicken, expands into a granulated mass
of a bright-red hue, loses the form of a hook and assumes that of a
club, from the edges of which club a thin membrane extends, and
attaches itself firmly to the wall after the manner of a sucker. If
all five of the extremities happen to touch, they all go through the
same process; and when all are spread out on the wall, each with its
extension complete, the tendril looks much like the foot of a bird;
but none of the hooks change in this way, unless they are so situated
as to be able to fix on the wall. One of these strong holdfasts occurs
at about every two inches on every stem and branch; and as a very
large proportion of them get hold of some substance or other, the vine
becomes more strongly fixed in its place than those which have been
nailed or otherwise artificially fastened; and if the wall on which it
climbs is at all rough, it must be very boisterous weather indeed that
can dislodge its pretty covering. If by any means a branch is forced
away from the wall, you will generally find either that it has brought
away a portion of the stucco with it, or else that the stems of the
tendril have broken, and left the sucker-like extremities still
adhering. The appearance of one of these tendrils when young is
beautiful; and if you place it under a microscope while it is assuming
its knobby form, you will admire its exquisite texture and colouring.
This, like the ivy, when it rises above the wall, becomes arborescent,
and ceases to throw out tendrils.
There are many other provisions for aiding plants in climbing. Some
ascend simply by means of the friction which the hairy or gummy
cuticle of their stems affords--that sort of Galium commonly called
'cleavers' or 'cliver,' and the wild madder (_Rubia pelegrina_), are
instances of this--then there are others which send out simple
tendrils from the point of each leaf. There is also a plant called the
'heartseed' or 'balloon vine,' from its inflated membraneous capsule,
in which the tendrils grow from the flower-stalks; and another, one of
the custard-apple tribe (_Annona hexapetala_), of which Smith tells
us--'the flower-stalk of this tree forms a hook, and grasps the
neighbouring branch, serving to suspend the fruit, which is very
heavy, resembling a bunch of grapes.' The pea and vetch tribe, the
pompion and cucumber, and various other plants, afford instances of
provisions of these and similar kinds. But as I hope I may have
succeeded in leading some of my readers to see what abundant subjects
of interest may be found in the contemplation of even the appendages
of plants, I shall now take my leave, only strongly advising all who
wish to find a country life profitable and agreeable, to endeavour to
supply themselves with some simple natural pursuit, such as gardening
or botany, either of which may lead to investigations that will well
repay their trouble, even should they refer to nothing more than the
structure of the leaves or tendrils of the trees and shrubs which grow
around their dwelling.