sorrel may very readily be passed over, it will, we think, be found to
repay the attention of the ornamentist, since the lightness and grace of
its growth, its brilliant colour, and the rich form of the leaf, are all
characteristics that should render it valuable to those engaged in
decorative art. The leaves have a pleasant acid flavour, and are
occasionally employed in salads. The English name is derived from the
Anglo-Saxon _sur_, sour. The present plant must not, from similarity of
name, be confused with the wood-sorrel (_Oxalis acetosella_), as the two
plants are very different in appearance, the wood-sorrel having large
white flowers, and a beautiful trefoil character of leaf. Illustrations
of the natural growth of _R. acetosa_ may be seen in E. B. 1223; F. L.
vol. v. 29; M. B. 69.
[Illustration: _Sorrel._]
The SPEAR-PLUME THISTLE (_Carduus lanceolatus_) has been selected as the
subject of our next example. It may very commonly be met with in
hedge-banks and waste ground, attaining to a height of from three to
four feet, and forming a very ornamental and conspicuous object. Its
employment in heraldry with the motto NEMO ME IMPUNE LACESSIT, as the
badge of Scotland, is so well known that the mere mention of the fact
will suffice to recall it to the memory of our readers; but this
application of it, and its frequent recurrence in all circumstances
where the national emblems are introduced, render it necessary that the
designer should be familiar with the plant he will thus have to treat.
There are several indigenous species of thistle, some one or two of them
laying claim to their right to be considered the true Scottish badge,
but the balance of evidence will, we think, be found to point to the
spear-plume thistle as that most entitled to the honour. The _C.
marianus_, or milk-thistle, one of our rarer native, or at least
naturalised species, has a particularly ornamental effect from the veins
upon the leaves being of a clear milky white, the rest of the leaf being
of the normal green colour. A drawing of the spear-plume thistle may be
seen in E. B. 686.
[Illustration: _Thistle._]
The THORN-APPLE, though not a common wild plant, may occasionally be met
with, growing on waste spots, rubbish heaps by the roadside, and similar
places. The large size and brilliant whiteness of the flowers, the bulk
and peculiar character of the spiny fruit, make it a very striking
object, and admirably fitted for a share of the ornamentist’s regard. It
is a plant of Eastern origin, and was unknown here until the reign of
Elizabeth; we therefore do not find it in any of the art-work before
that date, nor, indeed, do we remember to have ever seen it
[Illustration: _Thorn-apple._]
in any way introduced in later designs: this, no doubt, is partly owing
to the comparative rarity of the plant. Its scientific name is _Datura
stramonium_, the generic name being derived from _tatorah_, the name of
the plant in Arabic. The whole plant is powerfully narcotic in its
effects. In the quaint pages of Gerarde, published A.D. 1636, we learn
the history of its introduction into England. Gerarde was the director
of the botanical garden of Lord Burleigh; hence he received many rare
plants from abroad for cultivation. In speaking of the _Datura_, he
says, “whose seeds I have received of the Right Honourable the Lord
Edward Zouch, which he brought from Constantinople, and of his
liberalitie did bestow them vpon me; and it is that thorn-apple that I
have disposed through this land.” In some botanical works we find it
asserted that the thorn-apple was introduced into Europe in the Middle
Ages by the gypsies, who, in their wanderings, brought it from Asia; but
the declaration of Gerarde is so positive and explicit, that it seems
difficult to admit any other belief, more especially as he accompanies
his statement by an illustration which, though very rough and quaint, is
quite sufficiently like the natural plant to prove that it was not some
other species introduced by him and wrongly named. Drawings of the
thorn-apple may be consulted in E. B. 935; F. L. vol. vi. 17; M. B. 124;
S. C. 6; P. F. 13.
The TORMENTIL (_Potentilla tormentilla_) has already, to some extent,
been referred to when speaking of an allied species, the cinquefoil. The
flowers, though typically composed of four petals, are frequently to be
found with the petals five in number, the calyx in that case being cleft
into ten segments instead of the normal arrangement. We are not
acquainted with any example of the use of the tormentil in ornament, but
the wood-strawberry (_Fragaria vesca_), an allied genus of the same
natural order, has a similar form of calyx, the segments being
alternately large and small, and twice as numerous as the petals; and
this beautiful ornamental feature is very carefully shown in a
sixteenth-century MS. at the British Museum, where the plant is
introduced in one of the borders. Consult E. B. 430; F. L. vol. v. 35;
or P. F. 94, for illustrations of the natural growth of the tormentil.
Our remaining illustration has been suggested by the WATER CROWFOOT
(_Ranunculus aquatilis_), one of the numerous species of buttercups, but
distinguished from its allies by the petals of the flowers being white,
not yellow, as in the case of the other members of the family, and also
from the habitat of the plant, the blossoms being found floating upon
the surface of quiet water-courses. The crowfoot may be met with in
flower throughout the summer, and, where seen at all, is ordinarily very
abundant, so that at a little distance the whole surface of a large pond
will tell upon the eye as a mass of white, from the innumerable blossoms
thickly scattered over the water. The English name crowfoot has arisen,
like many similar names, from the supposed resemblance of the plant, or
some portion of it, to some other natural object; thus we get
crane’s-bill, cock’s-foot grass, lark’s-spur, bee-orchis,
pheasant’s-eye, and many other such examples among our common names for
plants. As a family, the buttercups must be regarded with suspicion on
account of their strongly developed acrid qualities; thus the leaves of
the _R. flammula_, if applied to the skin, will, in a very short time,
cause large and painful blisters. The _R. acris_ is equally poisonous;
and the _R. arvensis_, or corn crowfoot, is extremely injurious to
cattle and sheep. The _R. aquatilis_ does not possess these dangerous
qualities; on the contrary, it may be collected and given as fodder in
times of scarcity or drought, and the animals will not only eat it, but
thrive upon it. It is a very
[Illustration: _Water Crowfoot._]
widely spread species: the placid waters of regions so different from
each other in climate as Lapland and Abyssinia are equally favourable to
its growth, and the lakes and slowly running streams of California are
powdered over with its brilliant blossoms, as we see them in our English
pools. The water crowfoot affords us also a beautiful example of that
adaptability of form to the circumstances of the plant’s existence which
we may so frequently trace in the works of nature. It will be noticed in
the illustration that two very distinct forms of leaf are represented;
and, on examining the natural plant, it will be found that the simpler
form of leaf floats upon the surface of the water, while the lower and
more minutely divided leaves are submerged. Imagine the respective
positions of these leaves reversed, and it would speedily be apparent
that the finely cut leaves were unable to support the blossoms, and to
expose them to the vivifying rays of the sun, while the simpler form of
leaf would, by the action of the water, speedily be torn into long
shreds, the principal veins alone remaining, and very much resembling
the actual form that we meet with in the case of the submerged leaves.
In employing the water crowfoot in ornamental art, it appears to us that
the two great features most highly characteristic of it, and therefore
to be embodied in a design, are, first, the number of its blossoms; and,
secondly, the two distinct kinds of leaf; the simpler form being the
most prominent, but the other, though subordinate, as in the case of the
natural plant, to be indicated, and its presence felt. The _R. bulbosus_
is the species so frequently met with in the carvings of the Decorated
period of Gothic art, an especially beautiful example of its use being
seen in a capital in the doorway in the Chapter-house at Southwell
Minster, Notts. The _R. aquatilis_, so far as we have had opportunity of
observation, appears to have been entirely overlooked. Illustrations of
the water crowfoot will be met with in V. W. 95; E. B. 18.
Having thus briefly indicated some few points of interest in the
foregoing British plants, we draw our remarks to a close; it must not,
however, be supposed that all the material at our disposal was
exhausted. We fear rather to weary the reader than to exhaust the stores
which nature affords; hence we limit our remarks to fifty plants,
leaving many equally valuable ones untouched; such plants as the
bird’s-foot trefoil, chicory, cowslip, forget-me-not, meadow vetchling,
silver-weed, and stork’s-bill, being fully as well adapted to the
various purposes of ornamental art as those we have, in the body of our
text, referred to; in fact, the whole of those just mentioned were,
together with many more, indexed as a portion of our plan, and were only
cut out when it was found that a catalogue thus amplified would stretch
to an inordinate length. Though we have, in the course of our remarks on
each plant, been careful to indicate to our readers the books he should
consult for illustrations of the natural growth of the flower in
question, we cannot conclude without again strongly advising the
designer, wherever it is at all practicable, to go direct to nature, as
a series of sketches of even the roughest character has an ornamental
value and variety which are not always found in book-illustrations, and,
moreover, the knowledge of the plant acquired in actually delineating it
is worth far more than any study of the written descriptions of others.
These sketches should of course be made when the plant is available, and
not left till an emergency arises, and when, very possibly, the plant,
if found at all, may not be in satisfactory condition for ornamental
work. Whenever, therefore, a plant possessing valuable properties for
decorative work is met with, a drawing of the general growth and
enlarged details of its more artistically valuable parts should be made
and stored up for future use. A designer cannot have too many such
reserves of material, though he may very easily have too few. Those who
have never fairly searched may, however, be under the impression that
but little practical good could come of any such seeking, as, for want
of experience, they unknowingly underrate the wealth that, at the
expense of a short railway journey into the country, is theirs for the
gathering. To test this we set out one day in June, and the result of a
stroll of barely two and a half hours was conclusive on this point. In
addition to many plants in seed, or which, from their foliage, were
worthy of introduction into art-work, no less than seventy-four were met
with in flower; many of these, as the dog-rose, blackberry, white
bryony, comfrey, mallow, hawthorn, and silver-weed, being excellent for
carving; while the bladder campion, forget-me-not, meadow cranesbill,
ground-ivy, meadow vetchling, cinquefoil, oxalis, and honeysuckle, would
be valuable for lighter work--muslins, papers, or lace. We cannot doubt
that the interest thus evolved from a direct study of nature would be a
growing one; that not only would the actual result in art-work be the
better for it, but also that the enjoyment derived from the study would
be such as to render the pursuit one of far more interest than those who
have not yet experienced it can realise.
“Happy is he who lives to understand,
Not human nature only, but explores
All natures--to the end that he may find
The law that governs each; and where begins
The union, the partition where, that makes
Kind and degree, among all visible beings;
The constitutions, powers, and faculties,
Which they inherit--cannot step beyond,
And cannot fall beneath; that do assign
To every class its station and its office,
Through all the mighty commonwealth of things;
Up from the creeping plant to sovereign man.
Such converse, if directed by a meek,
Sincere, and humble spirit, teaches love:
For knowledge is delight; and such delight
Breeds love; yet, suited as it rather is
For thought and to the climbing intellect,
It teaches less to love than to adore:
If that be not indeed the highest love.”
WORDSWORTH.
II.
SEA-WEEDS AS OBJECTS OF DESIGN.
BY S. J. MACKIE, F.G.S., F.S.A.
I.
As in the world of human life, so in the world of nature--from the
humblest and meekest the greatest lessons may be learned; and there is
often as much worthy of admiration and study in the neglected as in the
known and appreciated. The pure metal lies not on the surface, but the
gold is extracted from the solid rock, or picked up, after much labour,
among the common sands; and many things lie out of the beaten path from
which the artist and the student might gather fresh fancies. Twice a day
rises and falls the great tide of ocean, and its heavings were not less
constant when the trilobite and astrolepis were inhabitants of
primordial depths; still twice a day it ebbs and flows, and the stony
mountains have treasured the fragments of the weeds it plucked from
pre-Adamic shores in memory of its ancient toil.
Bright are the flowers of the earth, the first and choicest of
ornaments. Pure, simple, and holy, their charms can never decay, though
familiarity and inconsistency may vulgarise, and innumerable
misappropriations make us sometimes wish for the contrasts that other
less showy objects would afford. While the fields are radiant with
their beauty, and the gentle zephyrs fragrant with their scented odours,
the great tide ebbs and flows over the flowerless plants of the sea.
Around the huge rocks the perennial fringes of olive fuci undulate in
graceful folds among the swelling waves, and the tall tangle bows its
pliant stem as
“The ocean old,--
Centuries old,--
Strong as youth, and as uncontrolled,
Paces restless to and fro,
Up and down the sands of gold.”
For ages have the weeds of the sea been heedlessly disregarded or
despised. The vilest epithet the polished Roman knew was _alga projecta
vilior_. Horace, too, wrote _alga inutilis_; and there may yet be many
to exclaim with the Scotch professor of the last century, “Pooh, pooh,
sir! only a bundle of sea-weeds!” But when the apostle Peter slept at
the house of Simon the tanner he dreamt a great dream--a dream memorable
to the end of time--a dream that was a waking truth to be set in golden
letters, and engraven on the hearts of rich and poor, wise and
unwise--“There is nothing common nor unclean.”
The Chinese believe there is one word expressive of all excellence, so
exquisite that no one can pronounce it, although it can be written and
perceived by the eyes. That word is stamped alike on “the vile sea-weed”
and on the lovely flower. I do not claim for both an equal rank,--the
cottage may be charming, and not vie with the palace; and “the pride of
the village” may want the grace of “the ladye of high degree,”--but I do
claim for the neglected vegetation of the seaside an elegance of form,
and structure, a suggestiveness of mathematical designs, a poetry of
association and typical expression, a simplicity and modest
gracefulness, which will entitle it to the best consideration of the
designer.
World-wide in distribution, the sea-weeds are accessible to every one;
and it is not the rarest that are, for ornamental purposes, the most
valuable. The beauty of a manuscript tempted England’s greatest monarch
to the acquirement of letters, and the commonest weed may be the
incentive to the perusal of one of Nature’s choicest books. Wherever the
briny waters wash the coasts, in marshes even where the salt sea
penetrates but seldom in the year, on rocks and stones, and piers and
piles, winter or summer, from the land of gold to the Canaries, from the
soil of the Hottentot and Caffre to the ice-bound country of the Lapp,
from the floating meadows of the tropics to the snowy regions of the
poles--there grow the crisp sea-weeds--there may be gathered in endless
variety the chastest patterns of simplicity. All the associations of the
sea are grand and glorious, and the goddess of beauty came from the foam
of its waves. In the sublime language of ancient mythology, the Ocean
was the first-born of Heaven and Earth, that was wedded to the child of
the land and the sky. Are there no gems of classic imagery in the
bronzed belt that girdles its giant form? Have the thousand daughters of
Atlas and Tethys all taken to groves and cities, and have the Nereides
become the attendants of Flora? Are the tears of Calypso and the loves
of Amphitrite forgotten? Has the memory of Sappho passed for ever away,
and have the green and olive nurslings of the surge no affinity with the
crystal phœnix that arose from their ashes in the Phœnicians’
fire?
There is a point whence life and vegetation seem to diverge--the simple
cell; where the algæ meet the monads, and most mysterious processes and
elaborations are carried on by means the simplest but most astounding.
Of cell upon cell are the sea-weeds built, and by cells or spores cast
loose from their substance are their species reproduced, as certainly
and as surely as plants by the marriage of the flowers. Of cellular
tissue entirely does the sea-weed consist; of cell upon cell alone is
woven all the varied drapery of the deep. A mere sac, empty, or
containing a fluid or granular substance, absorbs the surrounding
fluids, assimilates them in its membranous walls, consolidates their
carbon and nutritious substances, grows, divides, each portion swells
again to its parent size, each again divides, and so the splitting cells
increase and multiply. The rapidity with which some of the common
confervæ of our ponds are thus developed is well known; and it is not
unusual to find loathsome pools, that were black at dawn with
decomposing filth, covered at eve with a floating verdure rapidly and
energetically extracting its nutriment out of the pollution, and
liberating the gas of animal life--oxygen--into the atmosphere, in lieu
of pestilential effluvia. The snow-plant, the _Protococcus nivalis_, is
perhaps the best-known instance of the rapid development of cell-plants
properly so called. In a few hours whole tracts of the white snow of
northern lands will assume the hue of the battle-field; and from another
species the waters of the Arabian Gulf have acquired their memorable
name of Red Sea.
Above the limits of the lichen incrusting the peaks of mountains, and in
the unplumbed abysses of the deep below the region of the nullipore,
there the cell-plants swarm by myriads; and even the air powders the
ropes of ships at sea with the atomic dust that had vegetated among the
clouds.
I have claimed for the sea-weeds the attractions of simplicity, and I
claim beauty of outlines and gracefulness of forms even for the simplest
of the simple--the cell-plants. Forms! outlines of cell-plants! Would
not a single species content the naturalist? The ever-varying Hand that
is traced in all around has touched these lowly objects with charms and
wonders in the most exquisite modifications of form and the most
delicate sculpture. The invisible is not the less beautiful that it is
unseen; the physician owes much to these little things--why not the
artist? Are there no laws of symmetry in natural objects, as there are
of mechanics and of force? no sympathetic principles of harmony of
colour with form, as of structure with locomotion or fixity? Even in
these humble plants there are traces of that divine delicacy which may
be observed and appreciated--an expression of that one word which cannot
be spoken.
For the present attention is confined to those forms of algæ which
exhibit the second stage in the development of vegetation--the linking
of these cells, or cell-plants, together, which is naturally effected by
their self-division and growth, without actual separation of the parts.
And here the transitions exhibit those almost insensible gradations
which have led some powerful minds to view the highest structures, and
even intellectual man, as the consummation only of previous states and
changes. But whatever ideas may be entertained of the manner by which
the creative energy has worked, the results and the power, the ends and
the means, are alike astounding, whether the monad or the cell were
elaborated into the animal or the plant, or both were produced by a
thought to fulfil their purposes in the economy of life. The globular
membranous sacs or cells divide in a linear direction, and a string of
the tiniest beads results. In the cylindrical cell--for the forms of the
cells are in themselves various, both naturally as well as by the
exercise of mutual pressure and other influences--a transverse partition
is formed; the two ends are produced; in each of these again the same
process is repeated, and a thread-like species is formed. Other globules
adhere side by side, developing the membranous expansions of cellular
tissue, in which we recognise the first appearance of the leaf. In the
clinging together of the cylindrical fibres we perceive likewise the
first rudiments of the branch and stem: in such cases, when the
elongated cells of the fibres are of an unequal length, a continuous
stem or cord is produced, varied only as it is enlarged or swollen by
the methodical aggregation of greater numbers, or tapering by the
prolongation of the central threads beyond the rest, or by the less
robust condition of the young cells.
If the cell-cylinders are of _equal_ length, nodes and internodes, like
the joints of a reed, are produced; and by the bifurcation of the cells
of the extremities branching fronds and ramuli result. Thus by this
cell-splitting are formed the delicate branching forms of the
rhodosperms (red sea-weeds), the paper-like membranous expansions of the
ulvaceæ, the jagged fronds of the fuci, and the stout trunk of the
gigantic lessonia. Thus the progress of the general plan, from the
conception within the ovule, is traced, species by species, and genus by
genus, until we pass ashore with the zostera and a few other similar
borderers, and ascend through the mosses, ferns, and grasses, to the
flowering plants and trees, and reach the summit of the second organic
kingdom, where mind alone seems wanting to complete the conditions of
life. Indeed, were it not for the perfection of all things around us, we
might regard the formation of beautiful flowers and massive trees as
arising from an imperfection--namely, the incomplete separation of the
primitive cells in their self-division--and that Nature had turned the
hint to most admirable and wonderful account, that she had improved upon
it, and not only joined firmly together the sides of the connected
cells, but in many of the thread-like species had enclosed them, for
their better protection from disjunction, in gelatinous or mucous
cylindrical sheaths, which may be fancifully, if not really, regarded as
the first symptoms of the cuticle or bark. Most of the filiform algals
are fresh water, but many of them are marine; and among the tufts of
confervæ in brackish pools, or the floating scum on the surface of
polluted water, along the muddy sides of ditches, as well as coating
damp rocks and spray-splashed cliffs, upon decaying heaps of sea-wrack,
on floating planks drifting ashore
[Illustration: _Oscillatoria nigro-viridis._]
[Illustration: _Oscillatoria spiralis._]
[Illustration: _Calothrix semiplena._]