v** 
4 
CEDRUS LIBANI 
The affinities of the Cedar are very interesting. Its cone is that of a Silver Fir; the whole of its 
structure, as the pubescent scales, the seeds, and their wings, corresponding in shape, arrangement, and 
texture with those of that tree. So does the bark of the trunk and the timber itself. On the other hand, 
the leaves are those of a Spruce or Larch, being acicular, quadrangular, and standing upon pulvini or 
cushions, as in the Spruces, and not flat and without cushions, as in the Silver Firs. It more resembles 
the Larch, too, in general appearance, in the tuftiness of its foliage, and the mode of growth of the leaves 
on the branch. At first sight the strong ligneous attachment of the scales to the axis seems to indicate an 
affinity to the Spruces; but this attachment is not permanent; the scales by and by fall off, as in the Silver 
Firs, only more tardily, leaving the core standing erect. This never happens with the Spruces or Larches. 
In them it is the cone itself which falls off. The coincidences with the Spruces and Larches, moreover, 
are of less importance than those with the Silver Firs, the latter occurring in the reproductive organs, which 
are always properly regarded as of primary importance. Although allied to both, the Cedar thus is truly 
a Silver Fir. 
The female catkins begin to shew themselves in October, or even earlier, but the cones do not appear 
until the next year, and, as already said, remain upon the tree usually until the second, but sometimes until 
the third, year after, or, according to Loudon, several years after. It is said that some trees produce only 
male catkins, others only female, and some both. The latter is the more usual case. In this country the 
trees rarely begin to bear until they have attained at least 25 or 30 years of age: usually a good deal more. 
When the leading shoot of the Cedar is broken, it does not readily form another; and when it does not 
do so it ceases to grow in height. Loudon adduces, as an instance of this, that the Cedar in the Jardin 
des Plantes, which lost its leader at the commencement of the French Revolution, has not increased in 
height since, but largely in spread of branches. We know one fine tree, which lost its top through the 
after-dinner folly of its owner, or of one of his friends, who undertook to hit it with a rifle bullet from the 
dining-room window. He succeeded, cutting off the leader; and, ever since, the magnificent tree remains 
without a top. This incapacity to push out a new leader, however, chiefly applies to it after it has attained 
maturity, and assumed its settled form. 
In describing the Deodar, we have discussed the question whether that tree is distinct from the Cedar 
of Lebanon and the Cedrus Atlantica or not. We need not repeat the arguments we there used, but may 
merely remind the reader that these three forms of Cedar are so like each other that it is difficult to say 
whether they are distinct species or only varieties of the same. We may, however, repeat what Sir Joseph 
Hooker says (Natural History Review for 1862, p. 17), who very accurately points out the true nature of 
their relationship, although it may not be easy to say whether he most inclines to hold them as species or 
varieties. He says— 
“ From what has been said respecting each of the three Cedars, it is evident that the distinctions between them are so trifling, and so far within 
the proved limits of variation of Coniferous plants, that it may reasonably be assumed that all originally sprang from one. It should be added 
that there are no other distinctions whatever between them—of bark, wood, leaves, male cones, anthers, or the structure of these, nor in the 
mode of germination or duration, the girth they attain, or their hardiness (the assumed distinctive characters between the Deodar and Lebanon 
Cedar that were founded on the form of the cones, the falling away of their scales, the shape of the leaf in section, the wood, its odour and 
durability, having all been satisfactorily disproved long ago). Also, that all are very variable in habit; so much so indeed is this the case with 
the Deodar, which is the most distinct of all in habit, that though it was not introduced much more than thirty years ago, there are already five 
distinct varieties sold by nurserymen, some as stiff, others as dark-coloured, and others as short-leaved as the Lebanon Cedar. Also, that though 
the differences in the scales and seeds of Deodara and Libani are very marked, they vary much ; many forms of each overlap, and further 
transitions between the most dissimilar may be established by intercalation of seeds and scales from C. Atlantica. . . . My own impression is, 
that they should be regarded as three well-marked forms, which are usually very distinct, but which often graduate into one another, not as 
colours do by blending, but as members of a family do by the presence in each of some characters common to most of the others, and which 
do not interfere with or obliterate all the individual features of their possessor. Moreover, I regard them as in so far permanently distinct plants, 
that though all sprang from one parent, none of them will ever assume all the characters either of that extinct parent, or of the other two forms.” 
This, according to our notion, is a very fair description both of what constitutes a closely-allied species, 
and, to a certain extent, of how a species originates. 
For an estimate of the value of the different characters which distinguish, or have been supposed to 
distinguish, 
