AMONG OUR GARDEN NEIGHBORS 



mMMcA a * 2M*$k 



PASSING OF THE NOSEGAY 



REMEMBERING the utilitarian origin of the nosegay, 

 its gradual discarding need cause no surprise for mod- 

 ern methods of sanitation have robbed it of all birth- 

 right. Like many another of uninspired beginning, 

 - the nosegay has successfully superimposed a sort of 

 beauty which has kept it in vogue long after its initial pretext for 

 being had vanished. How many of us, associating this old- 

 fashioned bouquet with the flowered frocks and charming con- 

 ventionality of our grandmothers, go back in time till we find 

 some great-great-aunt binding a sprig of Rosemary, a bit of 

 Arnica, some leaves of Herb Robert in a tight little bunch to be 

 carried to meeting-house or market-place as an antidote to ail- 

 ments that fly about wherever folk foregather? We no longer 

 walk abroad medicine chest in hand, as it were, but store con- 

 centrated remedies away in the bathroom cabinet and go con- 

 fidently out pinning our faith upon sunshine, fresh air, and water 

 instead ; but our speech is rich with reminders of old days and old 

 ways of which we have nearly forgotten the meaning. " He'll 

 smell Rue yet " — an echo of far-away times when the culprit was 

 hauled hand-cuffed before a railing garnished in funeral fashion 

 with sprays of Rue to dispel the poison breath of prison fever 

 ere it touched His Honor and the bewigged attendant barristers 

 safely ensconced beyond. 



Plants have not lost their efficiency nor we our belief in them 

 but their healing flows through fresh channels — we find renewal 

 for body and spirit in the spading-up of soil, in seeding and 

 tending, and perhaps the greatest health of all certainly the 

 greatest happiness, in the decorative use of these bits of beauty 

 of which we are with nature co-creators. 



This brings us back to where we started, back to the nosegay 

 which, despite the sanction of association and a prim acquired 

 quaintness, so lacks intrinsic beauty that we are glad to see it 

 go. Is it not, after all, fundamentally artificial — something 

 we have forced upon flowers rather than something flowers have 

 been permitted to do for themselves? That is where the Japan- 

 ese excel, in letting plants have their own way; and it is the vital 

 thing we gardeners have to learn from them. (See Professor 

 White's illuminating discussion of " Flower Arrangement as a 

 Fine Art," page 352.) Oriental symbolism means nothing 

 to us of the Occident, and the substitution of the Japanese 

 arrangement for the Continental nosegay — mere imitation with- 

 out understanding — is the stupidest sort of artificiality. 



Growing appreciation of the decorative use of flowers as 

 practised in Japan is in itself, however, a happy evidence of our 

 sense of national lack in this matter, a recognition of and groping 

 after truth, with the eventual emergence, we confidently expect, 

 of a new type of flower arrangement as distinctively an American 

 expression of taste as the pure and dignified Colonial art of our 

 forebears. 



The nosegay showed no consideration for flowers themselves; 



pungency, fragrance, and color went into its making, the ele- 

 ment of line being totally disregarded. Sensitized by intimate 

 study of the plant world, the Japanese have proven wiser in 

 their fine recognition of the grace and importance of line upon 

 which the beauty of certain flowers fundamentally rests, the 

 Iris, for example, and the Lily. It logically follows, then, that in 

 putting such flowers to any sort of decorative use their effective- 

 ness largely depends upon giving this distinguishing character 

 free play — hence the sparse and thoughtfully proportioned 

 arrangements of the Japanese allowing each flower opportunity 

 for fullest revelation of inherent graces. 



Quite as obviously it seems merest common sense to concen- 

 trate such blooms as depend principally on color for their effect, 

 thus minimizing any awkwardness of growth and stressing their 

 lovelier aspect. Most Roses, for instance, gain impressiveness 

 by grouping, and even the squat little Pansy takes on dignity 

 when in company with his fellows. 



The very wide range of material at our disposal makes possible 

 an infinite variety of arrangements for, unlike the Japanese, we 

 are not hampered by tradition, or by an instinctive flair for 

 line which, while it guides his choice to the superlatively fine, also 

 limits his scope. As a people we care rather more for sentiment 

 and striking color effect, rather less for subtleties and symbolism 

 than our Eastern brothers; differences which, if recognized and 

 not despised, can be turned to good account in the forming of a 

 definitely national taste. In the art of flower arrangement as 

 in all arts, sympathetic sincerity is the touchstone — after all 

 flowers are " jes' folks" and, like folks, yield up their best to him 

 who troubles to understand. 



SPOKEN AND WRITTEN WORDS 



THE proper accent of the word Gladiolus is indeed a bone 

 of contention among growers, yet there is authority for 

 Glad'-T-ol-us, the accent on the first syllable and the "i" short, 

 and none for anything else. This is the ruling given in the Pro- 

 nouncing Dictionary of Rev. Percy A. Miles, B. A. , F. L. S., 

 embodied as a supplement to Nicholson's " Dictionary of Gar- 

 dening." The form adopted is "the Latin name used by Pliny, 

 and is a regularly formed diminutive from gladius (a sword)." 



In preparing his pronouncing dictionary Mr. Miles, himself 

 an authority on classical literature, etc., consulted all available 

 authorities. His decision was also approved by the well known 

 horticultural amateur and former Professor of Classics at Eton 

 College, Rev. H. C. Wolley-Dod. So why wander aimlessly 

 afield? Apart from mispronunciation of a perfectly good word 

 there has crept into use the vagrant "Gladiola," perhaps in a 

 desire forcibly to make a "popular" name. Where and how it 

 came into being we know not, nor when; but surely it is not 

 needed. Isn't the old pure word good enough? The Garden 

 Magazine adopts the one form Gladiolus for both single and 

 plural in popular usage (also with Narcissus, Crocus and simi- 



380 



