Wild Flowers An Aid to Knowledge of Our Wild Flowers and Their Insect Visitors — Reading Notes

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In Category - Plants Flowers
Blanchan, Neltje, 1865-1918 Project Gutenberg 2002 Not confirmed
Wild flowers -- North America Readers of public-domain and historical texts
Project Gutenberg digital edition en

Edition facts

Words 164,564
Reading time 716 min
Text sections 14

Before opening Wild Flowers An Aid to Knowledge of Our Wild Flowers and Their Insect Visitors — Reading Notes, the edition data offers a quick orientation: 164,564 words, 11 hr 56 min estimated reading time, and 14 detected text sections.

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Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Wild flowers -- North America,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

Blanchan's guide pairs detailed botanical descriptions with observations on insect relationships, emphasizing how flower structure, scent, and timing evolved to attract specific pollinators. The narrative voice blends scientific explanation with vivid, almost anthropomorphic language about plant 'desires' and 'schemes.'
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Who was the Robert for whom this his "holy herb" was named? Many suppose that he was St. Robert, a Benedictine monk, to whom the twenty-ninth of April - the day the plant comes into flower in Europe - is dedicated. Others assert that Robert Duke of Normandy, for whom the "Ortus Sanitatis," a standard medical guide for some hundred of years, was written, is the man honored; and since there is now no way of deciding the mooted question, we may take our choice.

Only when the stems are young are they green; later the plant well earns the name of red shanks, and when its leaves show crimson stains, of dragon's blood.

At any time the herb gives forth a disagreeable odor, but especially when its leaves and stem have been crushed until they emit a resinous secretion once an alleged cure for the plague. Flies, that never object to a noxious smell, constantly visit the flower, and have their tongues guided through passages between little ridge-like processes on each petal to the nectar secreted by the base of the filaments at the base of each sepal. To prevent self-fertilization the five stigmas are folded close together when the flower opens, nor do they spread apart and become receptive until after the outer row of anthers, then the inner row, have shed their pollen. When the elastic carpels have ripened their seed, bang! go the little guns, scattering them far and wide.

WHITE OR TRUE WOOD~SORREL; ALLELULA (Oxalis acetosella) Wood-sorrel family

Flowers - White or delicate pink, veined with deep pink, about 1/2 in. long. Five sepals; 5 spreading petals rounded at tips; 10 stamens, 5 longer, 5 shorter, all anther-bearing; 1 pistil with 5 stigmatic styles. Scape: Slender, leafless, 1-flowered, 2 to 5 in, high. Leaf: Clover-like, of 3 leaflets, on long petioles from scaly, creeping rootstock. Preferred Habitat - Cold, damp woods. Flowering Season - May-July. Distribution - Nova Scotia and Manitoba, southward to North Carolina. Also a native of Europe.

Clumps of these delicate little pinkish blossoms and abundant leaves, cuddled close to the cold earth of northern forests, usually conceal near the dry leaves or moss from which they spring blind flowers that never open - cleistogamous the botanists call them - flowers that lack petals, as if they were immature buds; that lack odor, nectar, and entrance; yet they are perfectly mature, self-fertilized, and abundantly fruitful. Fifty-five genera of plants contain one or more species on which these peculiar products are found, the pea family having more than any other, although violets offer perhaps the most familiar instance to most of us. Many of these species bury their offspring below ground; but the wood-sorrel bears its blind flowers nodding from the top of a curved scape at the base of the plant, where we can readily find them. By having no petals, and other features assumed by an ordinary flower to attract insects, and chiefly in saving pollen, they produce seed with literally the closest economy. It is estimated that the average blind flower of the wood-sorrel does its work with four hundred pollen grains, while the prodigal peony scatters with the help of wind and insect visitors over three and a half millions!

Yet no plant, however economically inclined, can afford to deteriorate its species through self-fertilization; therefore, to overcome the evils of in-breeding, the wood-sorrel, like other plants that bear cleistogamous flowers, takes special pains to produce showy blossoms to attract insects, on which they absolutely depend to transfer their pollen from flower to flower. These have their organs so arranged as to make self-fertilization impossible.

Every child knows how the wood-sorrel "goes to sleep" by drooping its three leaflets until they touch back to back at evening, regaining the horizontal at sunrise - a performance most scientists now agree protects the peculiarly sensitive leaf from cold by radiation. During the day, as well, seedling, scape, and leaves go through some interesting movements, closely followed by Darwin in his "Power of Movement in Plants," which should be read by all interested.

Oxalis, the Greek for sour, applies to all sorrels because of their acid juice; but acetosella = vinegar salt, the specific name of this plant, indicates that from it druggists obtain salt of lemons. Twenty pounds of leaves yield between two and three ounces of oxalic acid by crystallization. Names locally given the plant in the Old World are wood sour or sower, cuckoo's meat, sour trefoil, and shamrock - for this is St. Patrick's own flower, the true shamrock of the ancient Irish, some claim. Alleluia, another folk-name, refers to the joyousness of the Easter season, when the plant comes into bloom in England.

VIOLET WOOD-SORREL (Oxalis violacea) Wood-sorrel family

Blanchan opens her preface with an apology for adding another wild-flower book to a 'surfeited public,' then immediately pivots to her central argument: every aspect of a blossom—its form, color, odor, and blooming schedule—is shaped by its need to attract or repel insects. This ecological lens, unusual for a popular field guide of the period, frames the entire work. The prose shifts between precise botanical description (e.g., 'a tubular, 5-toothed calyx has the long slender petals inserted within') and a more literary, almost anthropomorphic tone that speaks of a flower's 'hopes and fears' and 'scheme of salvation.' Readers should expect a hybrid text: part identification manual, part natural-history essay.

Voice and Rhetorical Strategy

Blanchan’s narrative voice is distinctive for its blend of scientific authority and emotional appeal. She addresses the reader directly with questions ('Do you doubt it? Then study the mechanism of one of our common orchids…') and uses exclamatory sentences ('With what infinite pains the wants of each guest are catered to!'). This rhetorical strategy aims to convert passive admiration into active curiosity. The preface alone contains a series of rhetorical questions that preview the book’s themes: why skunk cabbage smells fetid, why daisies are abundant while lady’s slippers are rare, how sundews digest insects. These questions are not answered immediately; they serve as hooks, inviting the reader to explore the detailed entries that follow. The language is occasionally moralistic—'How relentlessly are pilferers punished!'—and even nationalistic, as when she suggests that how plants 'send seeds abroad… might be studied with profit by Anglo-Saxon expansionists.' Such phrasing reveals the author’s cultural context and adds a layer of period character to the scientific content.

Structure and Pacing

The book’s structure alternates between general introductory passages and species-specific entries. The excerpt from the entry on Wild Red Raspberry (Rubus strigosus) illustrates the typical pattern: a technical description of flower parts, habitat, and range, followed by a more discursive paragraph on pollination ecology and human uses. The pace shifts noticeably between these sections. The descriptive passages are dense with terminology—'calyx deeply 5-parted,' 'carpels numerous, inserted on a convex spongy receptacle'—and demand careful reading. In contrast, the ecological commentary is more relaxed, often including anecdotal observations ('Who but the bees and such small visitors care about the raspberry blossoms?') or practical notes for foragers and birdwatchers. This alternation creates a rhythm that can feel abrupt: the reader moves from minute botanical detail to broad ecological narrative within a single entry. The effect is to keep the reader engaged by varying the cognitive load, though it may also require occasional rereading to absorb the technical terms.

Recurring Details and Thematic Threads

Several motifs recur across the excerpts. One is the emphasis on mechanism: Blanchan repeatedly describes flowers as 'adjusted with such marvelous delicacy' to their insect visitors, using language that suggests intentional design. Another is the theme of reproduction and dispersal: she notes how raspberries depend on birds to drop undigested seeds, and how many flowers avoid self-fertilization through elaborate devices. A third is the anthropomorphic framing of plant behavior: flowers have 'hopes and fears,' 'schemes,' and 'desires' that 'create form.' This personification is not merely decorative; it serves to make the evolutionary logic accessible to a general audience. Finally, the excerpts show a consistent interest in human utility: Blanchan mentions market varieties of raspberry derived from wild stock, and recommends the raspberry patch as a place for 'the budding ornithologist to take opera-glasses and notebook.' These practical asides ground the scientific discussion in everyday experience.

Because the excerpts represent only a fraction of the full text—the preface and a few sample entries—readers should not assume that every species receives the same treatment. The book likely contains many more entries with varying levels of ecological detail. Pay attention to how Blanchan balances technical description with narrative commentary; this tension is the work’s defining feature. For those interested in the history of popular science writing, the preface alone offers a rich example of late-Victorian rhetorical strategies in natural history.

In Blanchan’s wild pages, I noticed how each flower courts its own insect with quiet schemes. That same patient, tender watching lives in The Botanic Garden. Part 2, Containing the Loves of the Plants. A Poem. With Philosophical Notes. — Story, Setting & Ideas, where Erasmus Darwin turned those green longings into verse. Two centuries apart, yet both authors listened closely to stamens and petals, as if sharing a secret.

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