Chambers's Edinburgh Journal, No. 454

There are many other facts in these interesting volumes which we should like to call attention to; but the reader who has accompanied us through this sketch cannot do better than read the volumes themselves—only remembering, that the enthusiasm of his guide might have been considerably moderated had he been an emigrant instead of a gentleman traveller.

MRS GRIMSHAWE'S TREATISE ON HOLDFASTS

I am ready to maintain, against all assailants of the position, that the person who can feel so deep an interest in any of the works of God as to find, in the investigation of them, employment for time which might otherwise hang a little heavily on hand, and occupation of an innocent and even of a useful nature for an active mind, has a decided advantage over one who has no such resource. And I further maintain, that there is not one single object in created nature, from the drop of ditch-water which occupies the attention of Herr von Creep-crawl, up to the 'serried host' of angels and archangels who inhabit the realms of light, which does not present matter worthy of the study and attention of an inquiring and intelligent mind. Having delivered this defiance, I shall now ask my readers to take another walk round my garden, and examine the climbers which cover my walls, and listen to my Treatise on Holdfasts, as I call those appendages of plants which assist them in climbing.³

The very first specimen to which we come, is one of that very pretty tribe the Clematideæ, the Clematis montana, which is closely covering a wall of ten feet high, and at least twenty in width, thence throwing out its branches, extending itself over the adjacent wall of the house, and occasionally sending a stray shoot or two to adorn my neighbour's garden. Now, how do those slight, long stems, which stretch, some of them twenty or thirty feet from the parent stalk, support and arrange themselves so as to preserve a neat and ornamental appearance without my having had the least trouble in training them? If you gather one of those loose branches, you will see that it has no tendril of any kind, or other apparent means of support; but this, like all others of the clematideæ or clematis tribe, possesses a power of twisting the leaf-stalk round a wire, twig, or anything else that comes in its way, so as to tie the plant to the support with as firm a knot as could be made with a piece of string; and after thus encircling the wire, it returns the leaf to its former position, with the upper side outwards, exactly as it was before. Some of the clematis tribe make this fulcrum from one part of the leaf-stalk, and some from another. In that which we are examining, it is formed from the lowest part next the main stalk of the plant. In the wild clematis (C. vitalba)—that kind which runs so freely over hedges and thickets in the southern counties, adorning the country in winter with snowy tufts of feathers, formed by its seed-vessels—a part of the stalk between two pair of the leaflets forms this twist; whilst in the sweet-scented garden-clematis, other parts of the stem give the support: but it is always by means of some portion or other of this member, that plants of this tribe are sustained in their rapid and extensive climbing. It is curious to observe what instinctive aptitude to curve towards suitable objects, and towards them only, is exhibited in the holdfasts of climbing-plants. They never bend towards a wall, board, or other flat substance, when there is nothing to lay hold of; but the moment they touch a suitable object, they instantly fix on it, forming closely compacted rings, which can be untwisted only when young. As the plant rises from one height to another, the little green shoots above send out fresh leaves, each having the same prehensile properties, which they keep in reserve till called on to apply them to their proper use; whilst at the same time, the lower rings are becoming indurated, so that, as the plant grows longer and heavier, its supports become stronger and harder. There are other plants besides the clematideæ which thus support themselves, of which the Maurandya Barclayana and the Canariensis are examples; and the manner in which these accommodate themselves to the exact form of the object on which they seize, is very remarkable. If the support is round, the ring is also round; but if they fix on a square lath, or other angular thing, the stem forms to it, so that when the prop is removed, the ring retains the exact form of that prop, every angle being as sharp and true, as if it were moulded in wax.

Now, the next plant which greets us is the ivy (Hedera helix), and this differs wholly in its means of support from almost any other creeper; yet there is none that takes firmer hold, or maintains more strongly its position, than this beautiful creeper, whose ceaseless verdure well deserves the name of ivy—a word derived from the Celtic, and signifying green. It is supported by means of a whitish fringe of fibres, that are thrust out from one side of every part of the stem which comes in contact with any wall or other supporting object to which it can cling. Should a foreign substance, such as a leaf, intervene between it and that object, the fibres lengthen until they extend beyond the impediment; and then they fix on the desired object, and cease to grow.

These fibres, however; are not true roots—a branch with only such roots, would not grow if planted in the earth—they are mere holdfasts, and the plant does not receive any portion of its nourishment through them. The upper part of the plant, where it has mounted above the wall and become arborescent, is wholly devoid of such fibres, which never appear but when they have some object to fix upon.

And now, let us look at that which is the very pride of my garden, and which well deserves the name bestowed on it by a poetic-minded friend—'the patrician flower:' I mean the beautiful Cobea scandens; and here we are introduced to quite a different class of holdfasts from either of those which we have examined. The blossom of the cobea is formed of a curious and elegantly-formed calyx of five angles, exquisitely veined, and of a tender green—itself a flower, or, at least, when divested of its one bell-shaped petal, looking like one. From this calyx slowly unfolds a noble bell, at first of a soft, creamy green; but the second day of its existence it becomes tinged and veined with a delicate plum colour, which on the third day is its prevailing hue. The blossom is then in its full perfection; the vigorous green filaments supporting the anthers curve outwards; the long anthers, in the same manner as those of the white lily, open lengthways, and disclose rich masses of yellow pollen; whilst the single pistil stands gracefully between its five supporters, crowned with a globular purple style. On the last day or two of its existence, the bell is of a full, deep puce colour, and then drops, leaving the calyx bare, from which in due time is developed a handsome fruit, something like that of the passion-flower. The flower-stalk is from four to six inches long, and stands finely out from the wall, many blossoms being exhibited at the same time in different stages of development.

But now of the holdfast, which is our special subject. And this needs to be of a strong kind, for the branches of this plant have been known, in an English conservatory, to run to the length of 200 feet in one summer; and no doubt, in its native Mexico, where it has nothing to impede its growth, its shoots run even more freely. Behold, then, at distances of from three to four inches, all up the main stem; and also, on every shoot and branch which that stem throws out, grows a leaf, composed of three pair of leaflets, beautifully veined, and tinted with reddish purple, from between the last pair of which springs a tendril of extreme elegance. Indeed, noble as is this plant in every part, I think this tendril is the crowning grace of the whole: it is exceedingly slender, throwing off side-branches, which, again, repeatedly fork off at acute angles in pairs, and each extremity of each branch is furnished with a minute and delicate hook, so small as to be scarcely perceptible, but so strong and sharp-pointed as to lay hold of every object in its way—which hold it retains, when once well fixed, in spite of wind or weather. If this tendril remains long unattached, it becomes elongated to ten or twelve inches, or even more; and certainly a more elegant object than it presents when in this state can scarcely be seen, nor one which forms a more graceful ornament to a vase of flowers, if introduced as it grows, depending from one of the vigorous young purple shoots, itself shining with a sort of metallic lustre, and richly coloured with green and purple. But it is only on the loose young shoots that it assumes this very graceful appearance. If it is sufficiently near to a wall, or other support, instead of thus hanging pendent, its main stalk nearest the leaf contracts into a spiral form, thus shortening the tendril, and giving it greater power than so frail and slight a thing could otherwise possess; and the elasticity produced by the convolutions enables the branch slightly to yield to the influence of the wind, which makes it less likely to be torn down. Each extremity, as I have said, is armed with a hook, which hook, as soon as it touches, lays firm hold on the wall; and these tendrils occurring close together, and a large proportion of them fixing on some object, a wonderfully strong support is afforded to the plant. This plant is called by some people, 'the violet-bearing ivy,' although no leaf or blossom can be less like the ivy or the violet than that of the cobea.

And now, let us pass onwards. There is another tendriled plant, the passion-vine; and this has a cirrus or tendril quite of a different kind from that we have just examined. It is simple and unbranched, springing from the axil of the leaf, straight when young, but speedily becoming spiral, and forming a very close twist round whatever object it seizes. It is spiral to within an inch, or less, of its root, and encircles its support with six or seven circlets like a corkscrew, thus clasping it with great firmness. This has no hook or other appendage which would enable it to fix on a wall or other flat substance; and therefore, unless there are wires, or some other extraneous supports near, it must be nailed until it reaches a certain height, when its own stalks supply the requisite props on which the tendrils may lay hold. The grape and many other vines are furnished with tendrils, which spring from the root of the leaf-stalk; that of the grapevine is slightly branched, but not furnished with any hook. One of its tendrils usually grows close to the stem of the fruit, and thus sustains the heavy bunch of grapes which must otherwise, when it increases to a weight of many pounds, either break from its stem, or else pull down the branch on which it grows.

And now we approach the beautiful Ipomœa, or major convolvulus, which affords us a specimen of quite a different mode of progression from that displayed in any creeper we have as yet looked at, for it has neither tendril nor fibrous roots. 'Oh, that must be a mistake!' says some fine lady. 'My last Berlin pattern was of convolvuli, and that lovely group of flowers I copied had several blossoms in it, and I am sure there were plenty of tendrils in both.' No doubt, fair lady; but convolvuli in Berlin patterns, and those which are wrought in 'nature's looms,' differ wonderfully. In the former, not only the climbing convolvulus, but the common blue one (C. minor), is richly furnished with tendrils, whilst those of Dame Nature display no such appendage. Now, take a real flower of this tribe—the common bind-weed from the hedge will do as well as any other—and you will see that the means provided for it to run up any stick or stem it may meet, is a peculiar property it has, of twining its stem round and round that of any other plant near it; and so strong is this necessity to assume a spiral coil, or rather to twist and unite itself with some other stem, that you may often see two, three, or four sister-stalks of the same plant inwreathed into one stout cable, which union, though it does not enable the feeble stems to ascend, yet seems to increase their strength. But supply the young shoot with a stick or wire, or even a bit of twine, and see how rapidly it will then climb, and clasp, and throw out longer and stronger shoots, and overspread your wall with its large bell-shaped flowers, so brilliant with every tint of white, lilac, pink, and rose colour, and so exquisitely delicate in their texture, expanding at earliest dawn, and closing, never to reopen, when the fervid rays of the noonday sun fall on them! But I must not attempt to depict every variety of holdfast, or every provision for climbing with which it has pleased God to invest and beautify the different kinds of creeping-plants: it would detain us far too long; yet Mrs Grimshawe owes it to herself, to justify her devotion to the holdfast of the Virginian creeper (Ampelopsis hederacea), and that must be described.

Every one knows this plant, for although a native of North America, it is now one of the commonest coverings of our walls, as well as one of the prettiest we see. Its beautiful cut leaves are divided into five lobes, which, when first developed, are of a bright light-green, while the whole of the young stem and shoot is red; those take, by degrees, a deeper hue of green, and early in the autumn assume a brilliant scarlet tint, at which time they are very lovely. The means by which this plant takes so firm a hold of whatever supports it, is highly curious. From the stem of the tree is sent out on one side a leaf, and exactly opposite to it a shining, thread-like tendril, tinged with red, from one to one and a half inches long, dividing into five branches, and each terminating in a little hook. When one of these little hooks touches a wall, or comes in contact with anything it is able to cling to, it begins to thicken, expands into a granulated mass of a bright-red hue, loses the form of a hook and assumes that of a club, from the edges of which club a thin membrane extends, and attaches itself firmly to the wall after the manner of a sucker. If all five of the extremities happen to touch, they all go through the same process; and when all are spread out on the wall, each with its extension complete, the tendril looks much like the foot of a bird; but none of the hooks change in this way, unless they are so situated as to be able to fix on the wall. One of these strong holdfasts occurs at about every two inches on every stem and branch; and as a very large proportion of them get hold of some substance or other, the vine becomes more strongly fixed in its place than those which have been nailed or otherwise artificially fastened; and if the wall on which it climbs is at all rough, it must be very boisterous weather indeed that can dislodge its pretty covering. If by any means a branch is forced away from the wall, you will generally find either that it has brought away a portion of the stucco with it, or else that the stems of the tendril have broken, and left the sucker-like extremities still adhering. The appearance of one of these tendrils when young is beautiful; and if you place it under a microscope while it is assuming its knobby form, you will admire its exquisite texture and colouring. This, like the ivy, when it rises above the wall, becomes arborescent, and ceases to throw out tendrils.

There are many other provisions for aiding plants in climbing. Some ascend simply by means of the friction which the hairy or gummy cuticle of their stems affords—that sort of Galium commonly called 'cleavers' or 'cliver,' and the wild madder (Rubia pelegrina), are instances of this—then there are others which send out simple tendrils from the point of each leaf. There is also a plant called the 'heartseed' or 'balloon vine,' from its inflated membraneous capsule, in which the tendrils grow from the flower-stalks; and another, one of the custard-apple tribe (Annona hexapetala), of which Smith tells us—'the flower-stalk of this tree forms a hook, and grasps the neighbouring branch, serving to suspend the fruit, which is very heavy, resembling a bunch of grapes.' The pea and vetch tribe, the pompion and cucumber, and various other plants, afford instances of provisions of these and similar kinds. But as I hope I may have succeeded in leading some of my readers to see what abundant subjects of interest may be found in the contemplation of even the appendages of plants, I shall now take my leave, only strongly advising all who wish to find a country life profitable and agreeable, to endeavour to supply themselves with some simple natural pursuit, such as gardening or botany, either of which may lead to investigations that will well repay their trouble, even should they refer to nothing more than the structure of the leaves or tendrils of the trees and shrubs which grow around their dwelling.