602 
THE GARDENING WORLD. 
May 24, 1890. 
and sell at prices varying from 3 d. to Is. per bunch of 
two dozen flowers, amply testifies to the estimation in 
which it is held by the public. Closely allied to this 
is X. p. patellaris, an equally vigorous variety, with 
large flat flowers, that may also be readily distinguished 
from X. p. reeurvus by a broader white line beneath the 
orange-red rim of the corona than occurs in any other 
form of X. poeticus I have noticed. It comes into 
bloom about a week or ten days later than X. p. 
reeurvus. There are several other single-flowered 
varieties in cultivation, but the above include the 
finest and most popular kinds. 
Double Sorts. 
Two distinct double forms of X. poeticus have come 
under my notice, and both are tolerably common in 
different gardens about London, and both appear in large 
quantities in the market ; but as they are generally in 
separate (not mixed) bunches, and as a rule in different 
shops, it would seem that they come from different 
sources. They are spoken of as the Gardenia-flowered 
Xarcissus, but one of them has obviously a better title 
to the distinction than the other. The segments are 
broad, nearly flat and pure white, except at the base ; 
and they are intermixed with a few small white or pale 
yellow lobes, representing the supernumerary segments 
of the corona, for the latter is, as a rule, entirely 
wanting. The ovary and the tube have become 
arrested in their development, and together only 
measure about f in. in length. Botanically, this is 
the most degraded or degenerated type, and appears to 
be a form of X. p. reeurvus. The other is a double 
form of X. p. patellaris, showing the corona, with its 
orange-red rim and the broad white line beneath it. 
There are many supernumerary pieces interleaved with 
the supernumerary segments of the perianth, and all 
exhibit their usual differentiation of colour. It has, 
therefore, no right to the title of Gardenia-flowered. A 
large clump of X. p. patellaris in the gardens at Kew 
shows how the doubling comes about. A small tuft of 
petaloid segments project from the throat of some 
flower’s, while others are almost semi-double. The 
segments of the double form are often imperfect, 
variously cut, and a little folded.— J. F. 
- -- 
COMMON SENSE AND COMMON 
NONSENSE IN THE NAMING- OF 
PLANTS. * 
By Shirlev Hibberd. 
The subject of botanical nomenclature is one that may 
reasonably engage the attention of this club for an hour, 
the more especially if we confine the consideration to a 
few points illustrative of our common use of plant 
names. In order to economise time I will beg you to 
excuse the absence from this paper of any introductory 
remarks on the importance and interest of the various 
questions of a purely academic kind that might be 
brought under your notice ; and these being put aside 
we can proceed at once to serious business. 
If you compare what I will term the pre-Linnean 
names with those that Linnreus established, you will 
perceive at a glance how fully possessed of common 
sense was the great botanical reformer. The ancient 
names I say nothing about now. Those in use in books 
in the time immediately preceding Linnseus are to be 
regarded as descriptions in brief, the names in the ver¬ 
nacular being held sufficient as such. In Turner’s 
Serial, 1568, simple names occur, as for example 
Coniza Magna and Hyacinthus Maximus, but he trusts 
to names in the vernacular chiefly, and again in Ray’s 
Plantarum, 1685, the names are in reality brief 
descriptions, as for example, Hyacinthus orientalis 
vulgaris diversorum colorum, the ordinary Oriental 
Jacinth. Linnaeus in his Genera Plantarum, 1737, 
and Species Pla/ntarum, 1753, established the bino¬ 
mial system, having prepared the way for it by a 
general review of the vegetable kingdom in which, by 
the aid of his artificial system, he made a near approach 
to a true association of affinities and prepared the way 
for the natural system which is now in general favour 
and has nearly, but not quite, superseded the Linnean 
classification. We must keep in mind the principles 
asserted by this master as of vital importance,- and we 
may do so to advantage without converting Linnaeus 
into an impediment to scientific progress. Those of 
his canons that directly concern us now are that the 
same generic name shall be applied to all plants of the 
same genus ; that each generic name must be single ; 
that generic names compounded of two entire words or 
-"Read at a Meeting of the Horticultural Club, May 13th, XS90. 
portion of two entire words are improper ; that generic 
names derived from the Greek or Latin languages are 
alone admissible ; that names are not to be adopted for 
the purpose of gaining the goodwill of saints or cele- 
•brated persons ; and that long, awkward, and unpro¬ 
nounceable names are to be avoided as altogether 
objectionable. There are many more such, and there 
is a capital summary of them in Mr. Randal Alcock’s 
work on Botanical Xames, to which I will refer those 
who desire a clear and sufficiently full statement of the 
whole case. Mr. Alcock quotes from Plunkenet 
Coriotragematodendros as an example of a “long, 
awkward, disagreeable name,” and some of you perhaps 
will give way to the cruel thought that a man who 
seriously published such a name for the service of 
the world deserved to be seriously tarred and 
feathered. 
A good name of a plant may serve two purposes. It 
may guide one to a plant not seen or known before. I 
submit, as an example, that Ilex cornuta does this, 
when we have learned to recognise the Holly as an 
Ilex, for the specific name admirably suggests the form 
of the leaf. But the plant being known, but always 
liable to slip out of the memory, a good name recalls it 
in the absence of a specimen, and assists to identify 
the specimen when found. A fanciful name is of no 
use for either of these purposes ; it is simply a 
mnemonic sign and a tax on the memory. A German 
botanist is reported to have said that it is not in the 
power of a man to attain to a knowledge, by name and 
in fact, of more than 10,000 plants. Many intelligent 
and observant men of fairly good memory would be 
glad if they could master the identification correctly by 
name of ten hundred plants, but whoever explores this 
field of labour will assuredly discover that good names 
are better than bad names, and that names alone, as 
such, have a literary and scientific value proportionate 
to their correspondence with the requirements of 
common sense. A man who coins a name contributes 
to tbe language of the world, and the world has some 
right to a voice in the matter. 
And you will ask me what I mean by common sense 
in this connection. In a general way I will answer, 
compliance with the Linnean method, but I must in 
the interest of common sense propose to you that we 
may with advantage build upon the Linnean foundation, 
so as to carry the edifice a few stories higher. And 
our building must be after a design that needs no 
explaining, with materials of the simplest character. 
For example, Liunreus admitted commemorative 
names, and they might even now be allowed were 
common sense in the ascendant; but it is not, and 
commemorative names have of late years been employed 
with such a lack of discrimination that the abuse 
suggests a necessity for their total abolition. There 
will be other ways of commemorating worthy persons 
in the field and the garden, as I will explain presently. 
Mr. Alcock says in defence of personal names:—“It 
might be said that the names of people applied to 
plants give no information, but this is not exactly the 
case. 1 Sherardia ’ could not have received its name 
before the time of the Sherards, nor Linmea before the 
time of Linnteus ; so that these names at least give us 
a scrap of information in botanical history.” A scrap 
it is, for which we pay an exorbitant price, the com¬ 
memorating system of nomenclature having been 
assiduously developed into an intolerable nuisance. 
The late Dr. Lindley usually exhibited strong common 
sense in his endeavours to interpret the facts of nature, 
and the method of his Vegetable Kingdom proves his 
desire to help the student through the medium of 
names. It is, therefore, lamentable to find him saying, 
“It is of little real importance what name an object 
bears, providing it serves to distinguish that object from 
everything else”; and he adds, “I agree with those 
who think a well-sounding unmeaning name as good as 
any that can be contrived.” This is a sort of en¬ 
couragement to the adoption of such names as Aldi- 
borontiphoskiphornio, which is sufficiently unmeaning 
and has a pleasant sound, and might be substituted 
for Lindleya—a genus of rosaceous plants, the generic 
name of which is not a matter of the first importance. 
My respect for Lindley’s work and name will not 
prevent me saying that to propound so lax a rule is 
equivalent to the abolition of all rule ; it is admittedly 
a putting of sound before sense, and so it may be 
feared that to Lindley’s hearing the blast of a trumpet 
or the roll of a drum was as sweet and good as any 
angelic song or demonstration of philosophy. 
In a paper written by me for the Botanical Congress 
of 1886, the text of which will be found in the 
Gardeners' Magazine for June 9th of the same year, 
the following remarks on this subject occur: “The 
great sin of modern botanists is the wholesale adoption of 
commemorative 'names. They have, indeed, in this 
practice some small excuse in the commemorative 
principle on which many of the best known names are 
founded. Andromeda is, indeed, an example. But 
there is one still more noteworthy : it is that of the 
genus Linnoea, which Linnseus named in commemora¬ 
tion of himself, and perhaps to remind future ages of 
his own early lot, describing it as a 1 little northern 
plant, flowering early, depressed, abject, and long 
over-looked.’ But the extent to which the commemora¬ 
tive principle has been carried is ridiculous. Botanists 
need not now examine the new plants they find or 
have submitted to them ; they have only to remember 
the name of a friend if the plant is beautiful and sweet- 
scented, or of an enemy if it is ugly and emits a foetid 
odour. A plant comes to hand, the characters of which 
separate it from all known genera. The trouble of 
inventing a name by means of an exploration of Greek 
roots is saved, because the botanist has a friend named 
Smith to whom it would be agreeable to pay a com¬ 
pliment. So Smith furnishes the generic name. For 
the specific name there stands Brown, and the thing is 
done. By-and-bye a variety of the species is met 
with, and again the process is repeated, and the variety 
is named after Jones. It is perhaps a fortunate thing 
for mankind that Adam had no ancestors and no 
brethren, for he might have named the lions and tigers 
and antelopes after such people as Methuselah and 
Enoch, and Abimelech, for those names would no 
doubt have been common had there been a pre-existing 
population at the time when our great progenitor named 
the creatures. The good ancients of the truly classic 
period flung their heroes up among the stars, and the 
process was called an Apotheosis. We dash them 
down into beds of nettles, and bury them amongst the 
herbage before their time, that they may live with 
posterity in the names of plants, though perhaps they 
never lived for fame, and have no desire to do anything 
for posterity at all, not even to mock its understanding, 
or needlessly burden its memory. Among the reputed 
British species of Salix, there are no fewer than twenty- 
two named after persons or places, and not one of the 
names is so good as that devised by a humble botanist 
who, finding a plant he had never seen before, and 
having no means of ascertaining its name, called it, 
because found by the roadside, Rhodum Sidum, as 
good a name perhaps as Georgium Sidus, and one that 
might be adopted and pass current without raising a 
laugh. 
In Curtis’s Botanical Magazine for the year 1865 
there are figures and descriptions of sixty-six plants, of 
which no less than twenty-eight derive their specific 
names from places or persons ; or, to be mo.re particular, 
nine are named from the countries or districts in which 
they grow, and nineteen from persons. With all 
respect to the botanists, I must say that these nineteen 
names at least are frivolous. Geographical names are, 
as a rule, not good. Very many of the plants found in 
Japan, and named (with how little effort!) japonica, 
are also found in China ; and species that inhabit both 
the old and new world cannot, with any propriety at 
all, have geographical names assigned them. If books 
of authority like the Botanical Magazine are thus open 
to animadversion, what shall we say of trade catalogues ? 
What shall we say ? I quit the unwelcome theme, 
and leave the trader in plants at his own free will to 
commemorate his relations, friends, and customers 
ex officio, for the simple reason that we are not bound 
to trade names, but we are bound to the names in the 
Botanical Magazine, and to all that come to us with 
the stamp of authority. In the Botanical Magazine 
during the year 1SSS there were published sixty-one 
plants, of which thirty-one have specific names com¬ 
memorative of persons, three are records of geographical 
location, and twenty-one are founded on visible cha¬ 
racters, and may be regarded as descriptive. The 
secret cannot be concealed that the bestowal of a 
personal or geographical name saves time, and demands 
absolutely no talent; but for the bestowal of a good 
descriptive name a diagnosis is required, and it must be 
performed by a botanist familiar with the genus, and 
in a state of mind favourable to clear perception and 
discriminative comparison. But to name a plant in 
honour of somebody’s niece, aunt, ninth cousin, or 
grandmother is an easy task, and might almost be done 
by machinery. 
A generic name should cover all generic characters, 
and a specific name should clearly separate a plant from 
all other species in the genus. The thick or broad 
gauge men are lumpers, and see fewer species worth 
