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Proserpina: Studies Of Wayside Flowers, Volume 2, a non-fiction book by John Ruskin |
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Chapter 3. Veronica |
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_ CHAPTER III. VERONICA 1. "The Corolla of the Foxglove," says Dr. Lindley, beginning his account of the tribe at page 195 of the first volume of his 'Ladies' Botany,' "is a large inflated body(!), with its throat spotted with rich purple, and its border divided obliquely into five very short lobes, of which the two upper are the smaller; its four stamens are of unequal length, and its style is divided into two lobes at the upper end. A number of long hairs cover the ovary, which contains two cells and a great quantity of ovules. "This" (_sc._ information) "will show you what is the usual character of the Foxglove tribe; and you will find that all the other genera referred to it in books agree with it essentially, although they differ in subordinate points. It is chiefly (A) in the form of the corolla, (B) in the number of the stamens, (C) in the consistence of the rind of the fruit, (D) in its form, (E) in the number of the seeds it contains, and (F) in the manner in which the sepals are combined, that these differences consist." 2. The enumerative letters are of my insertion--otherwise the above sentence is, word for word, Dr. Lindley's,--and it seems to me an interesting and memorable one in the history of modern Botanical science. For it appears from the tenor of it, that in a scientific botanist's mind, six particulars, at least, in the character of a plant, are merely 'subordinate points,'--namely,
3. None of which particulars concern any reasonable mortal, looking at a Foxglove, in the smallest degree. Whether hairs which he can't see are glandular or bristly,--whether the green knobs, which are left when the purple bells are gone, are divided into two lobes or two hundred,--and whether the style is split, like a snake's tongue, into two lobes, or like a rogue's, into any number--are merely matters of vulgar curiosity, which he needs a microscope to discover, and will lose a day of his life in discovering. But if any pretty young Proserpina, escaped from the Plutonic durance of London, and carried by the tubular process, which replaces Charon's boat, over the Lune at Lancaster, cares to come and walk on the Coniston hills in a summer morning, when the eyebright is out on the high fields, she may gather, with a little help from Brantwood garden, a bouquet of the entire Foxglove tribe in flower, as it is at present defined, and may see what they are like, altogether. 4. She shall gather: first, the Euphrasy, which makes the turf on the brow of the hill glitter as if with new-fallen manna; then, from one of the blue clusters on the top of the garden wall, the common bright blue Speedwell; and, from the garden bed beneath, a dark blue spire of Veronica spicata; then, at the nearest opening into the wood, a little foxglove in its first delight of shaking out its bells; then--what next does the Doctor say?--a snapdragon? we must go back into the garden for that--here is a goodly crimson one, but what the little speedwell will think of him for a relative _I_ can't think!--a mullein?--that we must do without for the moment; a monkey flower?--that we will do without, altogether; a lady's slipper?--say rather a goblin's with the gout! but, such as the flower-cobbler has made it, here is one of the kind that people praise, out of the greenhouse,--and yet a figwort we must have, too; which I see on referring to Loudon, may be balm-leaved, hemp-leaved, tansy-leaved, nettle-leaved, wing-leaved, heart-leaved, ear-leaved, spear-leaved, or lyre-leaved. I think I can find a balm-leaved one, though I don't know what to make of it when I've got it, but it's called a 'Scorodonia' in Sowerby, and something very ugly besides;--I'll put a bit of Teucrium Scorodonia in, to finish: and now--how will my young Proserpina arrange her bouquet, and rank the family relations to their contentment? 5. She has only one kind of flowers--in her hand, as botanical classification stands at present; and whether the system be more rational, or in any human sense more scientific, which puts calceolaria and speedwell together,--and foxglove and euphrasy; and runs them on one side into the mints, and on the other into the nightshades;--naming them, meanwhile, some from diseases, some from vermin, some from blockheads, and the rest anyhow:--or the method I am pleading for, which teaches us, watchful of their seasonable return and chosen abiding places, to associate in our memory the flowers which truly resemble, or fondly companion, or, in time kept by the signs of Heaven, succeed, each other; and to name them in some historical connection with the loveliest fancies and most helpful faiths of the ancestral world--Proserpina be judge; with every maid that sets flowers on brow or breast--from Thule to Sicily. 6. We will unbind our bouquet, then, and putting all the rest of its flowers aside, examine the range and nature of the little blue cluster only. And first--we have to note of it, that the plan of the blossom in all the kinds is the same; an irregular quatre-foil: and irregular quatrefoils are of extreme rarity in flower form. I don't myself know _one_, except the Veronica. The cruciform vegetables--the heaths, the olives, the lilacs, the little Tormentillas, and the poppies, are all perfectly symmetrical. Two of the petals, indeed, as a rule, are different from the other two, except in the heaths; and thus a distinctly crosslet form obtained, but always an equally balanced one: while in the Veronica, as in the Violet, the blossom always refers itself to a supposed place on the stalk with respect to the ground; and the upper petal is always the largest. The supposed place is often very suppositious indeed--for clusters of the common veronicas, if luxuriant, throw their blossoms about anywhere. But the idea of an upper and lower petal is always kept in the flower's little mind. 7. In the second place, it is a quite open and flat quatrefoil--so separating itself from the belled quadrature of the heath, and the tubed and primrose-like quadrature of the cruciferae; and, both as a quatrefoil, and as an open one, it is separated from the foxgloves and snapdragons, which are neither quatrefoils, nor open; but are cinqfoils shut up! 8. In the third place, open and flat though the flower be, it is monopetalous; all the four arms of the cross strictly becoming one in the centre; so that, though the blue foils _look_ no less sharply separate than those of a buttercup or a cistus; and are so delicate that one expects them to fall from their stalk if we breathe too near,--do but lay hold of one,--and, at the touch, the entire blossom is lifted from its stalk, and may be laid, in perfect shape, on our paper before us, as easily as if it had been a nicely made-up blue bonnet, lifted off its stand by the milliner. I pause here, to consider a little; because I find myself mixing up two characteristics which have nothing necessary in their relation;--namely, the unity of the blossom, and its coming easily off the stalk. The separate petals of the cistus and cherry fall as easily as the foxglove drops its bells;--on the other hand, there are monopetalous things that don't drop, but hold on like the convoluta,[19] and make the rest of the tree sad for their dying. I do not see my way to any systematic noting of decadent or persistent corolla; but, in passing, we may thank the veronica for never allowing us to see how it fades,[20] and being always cheerful and lovely, while it is with us. 9. And for a farther specialty, I think we should take note of the purity and simplicity of its _floral_ blue, not sprinkling itself with unwholesome sugar like a larkspur, nor varying into coppery or turquoise-like hue as the forget-me-not; but keeping itself as modest as a blue print, pale, in the most frequent kinds; but pure exceedingly; and rejoicing in fellowship with the grey of its native rocks. The palest of all I think it will be well to remember as Veronica Clara, the "Poor Clare" of Veronicas. I find this note on it in my diary,-- 'The flower of an exquisite grey-white, like lichen, or shaded hoar-frost, or dead silver; making the long-weathered stones it grew upon perfect with a finished modesty of paleness, as if the flower _could_ be blue, and would not, for their sake. Laying its fine small leaves along in embroidery, like Anagallis tenella,--indescribable in the tender feebleness of it--afterwards as it grew, dropping the little blossoms from the base of the spire, before the buds at the top had blown. Gathered, it was happy beside me, with a little water under a stone, and put out one pale blossom after another, day by day.' 10. Lastly, and for a high worthiness, in my estimate, note that it is _wild_, of the wildest, and proud in pure descent of race; submitting itself to no follies of the cur-breeding florist. Its species, though many resembling each other, are severally constant in aspect, and easily recognizable; and I have never seen it provoked to glare into any gigantic impudence at a flower show. Fortunately, perhaps, it is scentless, and so despised. 11. Before I attempt arranging its families, we must note that while the corolla itself is one of the most constant in form, and so distinct from all other blossoms that it may be always known at a glance; the leaves and habit of growth vary so greatly in families of different climates, and those born for special situations, moist or dry, and the like, that it is quite impossible to characterize Veronic, or Veronique, vegetation in general terms. One can say, comfortably, of a strawberry, that it is a creeper, without expecting at the next moment to see a steeple of strawberry blossoms rise to contradict us;--we can venture to say of a foxglove that it grows in a spire, without any danger of finding, farther on, a carpet of prostrate and entangling digitalis; and we may pronounce of a buttercup that it grows mostly in meadows, without fear of finding ourselves, at the edge of the next thicket, under the shadow of a buttercup-bush growing into valuable timber. But the Veronica reclines with the lowly,[21] upon occasion, and aspires, with the proud; is here the pleased companion of the ground-ivies, and there the unrebuked rival of the larkspurs: on the rocks of Coniston it effaces itself almost into the film of a lichen; it pierces the snows of Iceland with the gentian: and in the Falkland Islands is a white-blossomed evergreen, of which botanists are in dispute whether it be Veronica or Olive. 12. Of these many and various forms, I find the manners and customs alike inconstant; and this of especially singular in them--that the Alpine and northern species bloom hardily in contest with the retiring snows, while with us they wait till the spring is past, and offer themselves to us only in consolation for the vanished violet and primrose. As we farther examine the ways of plants, I suppose we shall find some that determine upon a fixed season, and will bloom methodically in June or July, whether in Abyssinia or Greenland; and others, like the violet and crocus, which are flowers of the spring, at whatever time of the favouring or frowning year the spring returns to their country. I suppose also that botanists and gardeners know all these matters thoroughly: but they don't put them into their books, and the clear notions of them only come to me now, as I think and watch. 13. Broadly, however, the families of the Veronica fall into three main divisions,--those which have round leaves lobed at the edge, like ground ivy; those which have small thyme-like leaves; and those which have long leaves like a foxglove's, only smaller--never more than two or two and a half inches long. I therefore take them in these connections, though without any bar between the groups; only separating the Regina from the other thyme-leaved ones, to give her due precedence; and the rest will then arrange themselves into twenty families, easily distinguishable and memorable. [Illustration: FIG. IV.] I have chosen for Veronica Regina, the brave Icelandic one, which pierces the snow in first spring, with lovely small shoots of perfectly set leaves, no larger than a grain of wheat; the flowers in a lifted cluster of five or six together, not crowded, yet not loose; large, for veronica--about the size of a silver penny, or say half an inch across--deep blue, with ruby centre. My woodcut, Fig. 4, is outlined[22] from the beautiful engraving D. 342,[23]--there called 'fruticulosa,' from the number of the young shoots. 14. Beneath the Regina, come the twenty easily distinguished families, namely:-- 1. Chamaedrys. 'Ground-oak.' I cannot tell why so called--its small and rounded leaves having nothing like oak leaves about them, except the serration, which is common to half, at least, of all leaves that grow. But the idea is all over Europe, apparently. Fr. 'petit chene:' German and English 'Germander,' a merely corrupt form of Chamaedrys. The representative English veronica "Germander Speedwell"--very prettily drawn in S. 986; too tall and weed-like in D. 448. 2. Hederifolia. Ivy-leaved: but more properly, cymbalaria-leaved. It is the English field representative, though blue-flowered, of the Byzantine white veronica, V. Cymbalaria, very beautifully drawn in G. 9. Hederifolia well in D. 428. 3. Agrestis. Fr. 'Rustique.' We ought however clearly to understand whether 'agrestis,' used by English botanists, is meant to imply a literally field flower, or only a 'rustic' one, which might as properly grow in a wood. I shall always myself use 'agrestis' in the literal sense, and 'rustica' for 'rustique.' I see no reason, in the present case, for separating the Polite from the Rustic flower: the agrestis, D. 449 and S. 971, seems to me not more meekly recumbent, nor more frankly cultureless, than the so-called Polita, S. 972: there seems also no French acknowledgment of its politeness, and the Greek family, G. 8, seem the rudest and wildest of all. Quite a _field_ flower it is, I believe, lying always low on the ground; recumbent, but not creeping. Note this difference: no fastening roots are thrown out by the reposing stems of this Veronica; a creeping or accurately 'rampant' plant roots itself in advancing. Conf. Nos. 5, 6. 4. Arvensis. We have yet to note a still finer distinction in epithet. 'Agrestis' will properly mean a flower of the open ground--yet not caring whether the piece of earth be cultivated or not, so long as it is under clear sky. But when _agri_-culture has turned the unfruitful acres into 'arva beata,'--if then the plant thrust itself between the furrows of the plough, it is properly called 'Arvensis.' I don't quite see my way to the same distinction in English,--perhaps I may get into the habit, as time goes on, of calling the Arvenses consistently furrow-flowers, and the Agrestes field-flowers. Furrow-veronica is a tiresomely long name, but must do for the present, as the best interpretation of its Latin character, "vulgatissima in cultis et arvis." D. 515. The blossom itself is exquisitely delicate; and we may be thankful, both here and in Denmark, for such a lovely 'vulgate.' 5. Montana. D. 1201. The first really creeping plant we have had to notice. It throws out roots from the recumbent stems. Otherwise like agrestis, it has leaves like ground-ivy. Called a wood species in the text of D. 6. Persica. An eastern form, but now perfectly naturalized here--D. 1982; S. 973. The flowers very large, and extremely beautiful, but only one springing from each leaf-axil. Leaves and stem like Montana; and also creeping with new-roots at intervals. 7. Triphylla, (not triphyll_os_,--see Flora Suecica, 22). Meaning trifid-leaved; but the leaf is really divided into five lobes, not three--see S. 974, and G. 10. The palmate form of the leaf seems a mere caprice, and indicates no transitional form in the plant: it may be accepted as only a momentary compliment of mimicry to the geraniums. The Siberian variety, 'multifida,' C. 1679, divides itself almost as the submerged leaves of the water-ranunculus. The triphylla itself is widely diffused, growing alike on the sandy fields of Kent, and of Troy. In D. 627 is given an extremely delicate and minute northern type, the flowers springing as in Persica, one from each leaf-axil, and at distant intervals. 8. Officinalis. D. 248, S. 294. Fr. 'Veronique officinale'; (Germ. Gebrauchlicher Ehrenpreis,) our commonest English and Welsh speedwell; richest in cluster and frankest in roadside growth, whether on bank or rock; but assuredly liking _either_ a bank _or_ a rock, and the top of a wall better than the shelter of one. Uncountable 'myriads,' I am tempted to write, but, cautiously and literally, 'hundreds' of blossoms--if one _could_ count,--ranging certainly towards the thousand in some groups, all bright at once, make our Westmoreland lanes look as if they were decked for weddings, in early summer. In the Danish Flora it is drawn small and poor; its southern type being the true one: but it is difficult to explain the difference between the look of a flower which really _suffers_, as in this instance, by a colder climate, and becomes mean and weak, as well as dwarfed; and one which is braced and brightened by the cold, though diminished, as if under the charge and charm of an affectionate fairy, and becomes a joyfully patriotic inheritor of wilder scenes and skies. Medicinal, to soul and body alike, this gracious and domestic flower; though astringent and bitter in the juice. It is the Welsh deeply honoured 'Fluellen.'--See final note on the myth of Veronica, see Sec. 18. 9. Thymifolia. Thyme-leaved, G. 6. Of course the longest possible word--serpyllifolia--is used in S. 978. It is a high mountain plant, growing on the top of Crete as the snow retires; and the Veronica minor of Gerarde; "the roote is small and threddie, taking hold of the _upper surface_ of the earth, where it spreadeth." So also it is drawn as a creeper in F. 492, where the flower appears to be oppressed and concealed by the leafage. 10. Minuta, called 'hirsuta' in S. 985: an ugly characteristic to name the lovely little thing by. The distinct blue lines in the petals might perhaps justify 'picta' or 'lineata,' rather than an epithet of size; but I suppose it is Gerarde's Minima, and so leave it, more safely named as 'minute' than 'least.' For I think the next variety may dispute the leastness. [Illustration: FIG. V.] 11. Verna. D. 252. Mountains, in dry places in early spring. Upright, and confused in the leafage, which is sharp-pointed and close set, much hiding the blossom, but of extreme elegance, fit for a sacred foreground; as any gentle student will feel, who copies this outline from the Flora Danica, Fig. 5. 12. Peregrina. Another extremely small variety, nearly pink in colour, passing into bluish lilac and white. American; but called, I do not see why, 'Veronique _voyageuse_,' by the French, and Fremder Ehrenpreis in Germany. Given as a frequent English weed in S. 927. 13. Alpina. Veronique des Alpes. Gebirgs Ehrenpreis. Still minute; its scarcely distinct flowers forming a close head among the leaves; round-petalled in D. 16, but sharp, as usual, in S. 980. On the Norway Alps in grassy places; and in Scotland by the side of mountain rills; but rare. On Ben Nevis and Lachin y Gair (S.) 14. Scutellata. From the shield-like shape of its seed-vessels. Veronique a Ecusson; Schildfruchtiger Ehrenpreis. But the seed-vessels are more heart shape than shield. Marsh Speedwell. S. 988, D. 209,--in the one pink, in the other blue; but again in D. 1561, pink. "In flooded meadows, common." (D.) A spoiled and scattered form; the seeds too conspicuous, but the flowers very delicate, hence 'Gratiola minima' in Gesner. The confused ramification of the clusters worth noting, in relation to the equally straggling fibres of root. 15. Spicata. S. 982: very prettily done, representing the inside of the flower as deep blue, the outside pale. The top of the spire, all calices, the calyx being indeed, through all the veronicas, an important and persistent member. The tendency to arrange itself in spikes is to be noted as a degradation of the veronic character; connecting it on one side with the snapdragons, on the other with the ophryds. In Veronica Ophrydea, (C. 2210,) this resemblance to the contorted tribe is carried so far that "the corolla of the veronica becomes irregular, the tube gibbous, the faux (throat) hairy, and three of the laciniae (lobes of petals) variously twisted." The spire of blossom, violet-coloured, is then close set, and exactly resembles an ophryd, except in being sharper at the top. The engraved outline of the blossom is good, and very curious. 16. Gentianoides. This is the most directly and curiously imitative among the--shall we call them--'histrionic' types of Veronica. It grows exactly like a clustered upright gentian; has the same kind of leaves at its root, and springs with the same bright vitality among the retiring snows of the Bithynian Olympus. (G. 5.) If, however, the Caucasian flower, C. 1002, be the same, it has lost its perfect grace in luxuriance, growing as large as an asphodel, and with root-leaves half a foot long. The petals are much veined; and this, of all veronicas, has the lower petal smallest in proportion to the three above,--"triplo aut quadruplo minori." (G.) 17. Stagnarum. Marsh-Veronica. The last four families we have been examining vary from the typical Veronicas not only in their lance-shaped clusters, but in their lengthened, and often every way much enlarged leaves also: and the two which we now will take in association, 17 and 18, carry the change in aspect farthest of any, being both of them true water-plants, with strong stems and thick leaves. The present name of my Veronica Stagnarum is however V. anagallis, a mere insult to the little water primula, which one plant of the Veronica would make fifty of. This is a rank water-weed, having confused bunches of blossom and seed, like unripe currants, dangling from the leaf-axils. So that where the little triphylla, (No. 7, above,) has only one blossom, daintily set, and well seen, this has a litter of twenty-five or thirty on a long stalk, of which only three or four are well out as flowers, and the rest are mere knobs of bud or seed. The stalk is thick (half an inch round at the bottom), the leaves long and misshapen. "Frequens in fossis," D. 203. French, Mouron d'Eau, but I don't know the root or exact meaning of Mouron. An ugly Australian species, 'labiata,' C. 1660, has leaves two inches long, of the shape of an aloe's, and partly aloeine in texture, "sawed with unequal, fleshy, pointed teeth." 18. Fontium. Brook-Veronica. Brook-_Lime_, the Anglo-Saxon 'lime' from Latin limus, meaning the soft mud of streams. German 'Bach-bunge' (Brook-purse?) ridiculously changed by the botanists into 'Beccabunga,' for a Latin name! Very beautiful in its crowded green leaves as a stream-companion; rich and bright more than watercress. See notice of it at Matlock, in 'Modern Painters,' vol. v. 19. Clara. Veronique des rochers. Saxatilis, I suppose, in Sowerby, but am not sure of having identified that with my own favourite, for which I therefore keep the name 'Clara,' (see above, Sec. 9); and the other rock variety, if indeed another, mast be remembered, together with it. 20. Glauca. G. 7. And this, at all events, with the Clara, is to be remembered as closing the series of twenty families, acknowledged by Proserpina. It is a beautiful low-growing ivy-leaved type, with flowers of subdued lilac blue. On Mount Hymettus: no other locality given in the Flora Graeca. 15. I am sorry, and shall always be so, when the varieties of any flower which I have to commend to the student's memory, exceed ten or twelve in number; but I am content to gratify his pride with lengthier task, if indeed he will resign himself to the imperative close of the more inclusive catalogue, and be content to know the twelve, or sixteen, or twenty, acknowledged families, thoroughly; and only in their illustration to think of rarer forms. The object of 'Proserpina' is to make him happily cognizant of the common aspect of Greek and English flowers; under the term 'English,' comprehending the Saxon, Celtic, Norman, and Danish Floras. Of the evergreen shrub alluded to in Sec. 11 above, the Veronica Decussata of the Pacific, which is "a bushy evergreen, with beautifully set cross-leaves, and white blossoms scented like olea fragrans," I should like him only to read with much surprise, and some incredulity, in Pinkerton's or other entertaining travellers' voyages. 16. And of the families given, he is to note for the common simple characteristic, that they are quatrefoils referred to a more or less elevated position on a central stem, and having, in that relation, the lowermost petal diminished, contrary to the almost universal habit of other flowers to develope in such a position the lower petal chiefly, that it may have its full share of light. You will find nothing but blunder and embarrassment result from any endeavour to enter into further particulars, such as "the relation of the dissepiment with respect to the valves of the capsule," etc., etc., since "in the various species of Veronica almost every kind of dehiscence may be observed" (C. under V. perfoliata, 1936, an Australian species). Sibthorpe gives the entire definition of Veronica with only one epithet added to mine, "Corolla quadrifida, _rotata_, lacinia infima angustiore," but I do not know what 'rotata' here means, as there is no appearance of revolved action in the petals, so far as I can see. 17. Of the mythic or poetic significance of the veronica, there is less to be said than of its natural beauty. I have not been able to discover with what feeling, or at what time, its sacred name was originally given; and the legend of S. Veronica herself is, in the substance of it, irrational, and therefore incredible. The meaning of the term 'rational,' as applied to a legend or miracle, is, that there has been an intelligible need for the permission of the miracle at the time when it is recorded; and that the nature and manner of the act itself should be comprehensible in the scope. There was thus quite simple need for Christ to feed the multitudes, and to appear to S. Paul; but no need, so far as human intelligence can reach, for the reflection of His features upon a piece of linen which could be seen by not one in a million of the disciples to whom He might more easily, at any time, manifest Himself personally and perfectly. Nor, I believe, has the story of S. Veronica ever been asserted to be other than symbolic by the sincere teachers of the Church; and, even so far as in that merely explanatory function, it became the seal of an extreme sorrow, it is not easy to understand how the pensive fable was associated with a flower so familiar, so bright, and so popularly of good omen, as the Speedwell. 18. Yet, the fact being actually so, and this consecration of the veronica being certainly far more ancient and earnest than the faintly romantic and extremely absurd legend of the forget-me-not; the speedwell has assuredly the higher claim to be given and accepted as a token of pure and faithful love, and to be trusted as a sweet sign that the innocence of affection is indeed more frequent, and the appointed destiny of its faith more fortunate, than our inattentive hearts have hitherto discerned. 19. And this the more, because the recognized virtues and uses of the plant are real and manifold; and the ideas of a peculiar honourableness and worth of life connected with it by the German popular name 'Honour-prize'; while to the heart of the British race, the same thought is brought home by Shakespeare's adoption of the flower's Welsh name, for the faithfullest common soldier of his ideal king. As a lover's pledge, therefore, it does not merely mean memory;--for, indeed, why should love be thought of as such at all, if it need to promise not to forget?--but the blossom is significant also of the lover's best virtues, patience in suffering, purity in thought, gaiety in courage, and serenity in truth: and therefore I make it, worthily, the clasping and central flower of the Cytherides. _ |
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