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BRIEF CONTENTS
Prefacexix
GlossaryG-1
Art CreditsA-1
IndexI-1
vii
CONTENTS
Prefacexix
OVERVIEW35
ix
x CONTENTS
OVERVIEW67
OVERVIEW125
OVERVIEW183
OVERVIEW261
OVERVIEW337
OVERVIEW413
OVERVIEW487
GlossaryG-1
Art CreditsA-1
IndexI-1
PREFACE
Religion is unquestionably a dynamic spiritual and political force in the world today.
Around the globe religious experiences and beliefs profoundly change individual lives
even as they influence politics and play a powerful role in international affairs. This
sixth edition of World Religions Today addresses this reality with an introductory vol-
ume for college and university students.
Although this is a multiauthored text, with each author taking primary responsibil-
ity for different chapters (John Esposito: Islam; Darrell Fasching: Judaism, Christianity,
and New Age Religions and Globalization; and Todd Lewis: Hinduism, Buddhism,
East Asian Religions, and Indigenous Religions), it has truly been a collaborative
project from start to finish. Throughout the entire process we shared and commented
on each other’s material.
World Religions Today grew out of our several decades of experience in teaching
world religions. It is a product of our conviction that, for our students to understand
the daily news accounts of religions in our global situation, they need more than just
the ancient foundations of the world’s religions. Textbooks on world religions have
too often tended to emphasize historical origins and doctrinal developments, focusing
on the past and giving short shrift to the “modern” world. Many stressed a textual,
theological/philosophical, or legal approach, one that gave insufficient attention to the
modern alterations of these traditions. Most gave little attention to their social institu-
tions or their connections to political power. As a result, students came away with a
maximum appreciation for the origins and development of the classical traditions but
a minimum awareness of the continued dynamism and relevance of religious traditions
today. So, despite the growing visibility and impact of a global religious resurgence
and of the unprecedented globalization of all world religions, most textbooks have
not quite caught up. World Religions Today began with our commitment to address
this situation.
World Religions Today, Sixth Edition, continues our hallmark approach of using
historical coverage of religious traditions as a framework to help students understand
how faiths have evolved to the present day. Indeed, we open most chapters with an
“Encounter with Modernity.” These encounters illustrate the tension between the
premodern religious views and the modern/postmodern world. Each chapter then
returns to the origins of the tradition to trace the path that led to this confronta-
tion with “modernity.” We attempt to show not only how each tradition has been
changed by its encounter with modernity but also how each religion in turn has
influenced the contemporary world.
xix
xx P R E FA C E
The book’s major theme and chapter structure have been retained from the earlier
editions, though they have been updated and revised. We have also updated chapter
content to reflect recent events at the time of writing. In response to reviewer sug-
gestions, we have:
FEATURES
Each chapter is enriched by a wide variety of thematic and special-topic boxes that
explore particular ideas or practices in some depth. It is our hope that these lively and
interesting boxes are seen as an integral part of the text, allowing students to imagine
how religion today is among the most colorful, lively, and striking of human endeavors.
SUPPLEMENTARY MATERIALS
For the instructor: Supplementary materials are available on the Oxford University
Press Ancillary Resource Center (ARC), a convenient, instructor-focused single
P R E FA C E xxi
destination for resources to accompany your text. Accessed online through individual
user accounts, the ARC provides instructors with access to up-to-date ancillaries at
any time while guaranteeing the security of grade-significant resources. In addition,
it allows OUP to keep instructors informed when new content becomes available.
Available on the ARC:
• Chapter goals
• Flashcards of key terms
• Suggested web links and other resources
• Self-quizzes, containing 20 multiple-choice, 20 true/false, 20 fill-in-the-
blank, and 6 essay/discussion questions per chapter, selected from the Test
Bank in the ARC
The Instructor’s Manual and Computerized Test Bank, as well as the student mate-
rial from the Companion Website, is also available in Learning Management
Systems Cartridges, in a fully downloadable format for instructors using a learning
management-system.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This sixth edition of World Religions Today has been substantially revised in light
of the valuable comments we continue to receive from colleagues across the
country who have used it and in light of our own subsequent experiences and
reflections. We offer special thanks to the following professors and to the other,
xxii P R E FA C E
Thanks also to the reviewers of the previous editions for their lasting input on the
work: Constantina Rhodes Bailly, Eckerd College; Herbert Berg, University of North
Carolina–Wilmington; Sheila Briggs, University of Southern California; Robert
Brown, James Madison University; Terry L. Burden, University of L ouisville; Dexter
E. Callender Jr., University of Miami; David Capes, Houston Baptist University;
James E. Deitrick, University of Central Arkansas; Sergey Dolgopolski, University of
Kansas; Joan Earley, State University of New York at Albany; James Egge, Eastern
Michigan University; John Farina, George Mason University; Debora Y. Fonteneau,
Savannah State University; Liora Gubkin, California State University–Bakersfield;
William David Hart, University of North Carolina–Greensboro; W illiam Hutchins,
Appalachian State University; Father Brad Karelius, Saddleback Community College;
Sandra T. Keating, Providence College; Mohammad Hassan Khalil, University of
Illinois; David Kitts, Carson-Newman University; Louis Komjathy, University of San
Diego; Peter David Lee, Columbia College—California; Ian Maclean, James Madison
University; Sean McCloud, University of North Carolina at Charlotte; Tim Murphy,
University of Alabama; Nancy Nahra, Champlain College; Jason Neelis, University of
Florida; Patrick Nnoromele, Eastern Kentucky University; Catherine Orsborn, Uni-
versity of Denver; Robin L. Owens, Mount St. Mary’s College; Linda Pittman, Col-
lege of William and Mary; Kris Pratt, Spartanburg Methodist College; Rick Rogers,
Eastern Michigan University; Barry R. Sang, Catawba College; Brooke Schedneck,
Arizona State University; D. Neil Schmid, North Carolina State University; Paul
Schneider, University of South Florida; Martha Ann Selby, U niversity of Texas at
P R E FA C E xxiii
Arctic Circle
ICELAND
CANADA
UNITED KINGDOM
IRELAND
FRANCE
HAITI WESTERN
Tropic of Cancer MEXICO CUBA SAHARA
DOMINICAN
REPUBLIC
BELIZE PUERTO RICO MAURITANIA
CAPE VERDE IS. MALI
TRINIDAD
JAMAICA and TOBAGO
GUATEMALA SENEGAL
EL SALVADOR GUYANA GAMBIA
NICARAGUA VENEZUELA GUINEA BISSAU
SURINAM
COSTA RICA GUINEA
FRENCH SIERRA LEONE
PANAMA COLOMBIA GUIANA LIBERIA
Equator BURKINA FASO GHANA
ECUADOR IVORY COAST
SÃO TOMÉ AND PRÍNCIPE
PERU EQUATORIAL GUINEA
BRAZIL
WESTERN
SAMOA
BOLIVIA
TONGA
CHILI
SOUTH ARGENTINA
SOUTH
PACIFIC URUGUAY ATLANTIC
OCEAN OCEAN
Antarctic Circle
Another Random Scribd Document
with Unrelated Content
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Girl's Own
Paper, Vol. XX. No. 1003, March 18, 1899
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at
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have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using
this eBook.
Title: The Girl's Own Paper, Vol. XX. No. 1003, March 18, 1899
Author: Various
Language: English
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GIRL'S OWN PAPER,
VOL. XX. NO. 1003, MARCH 18, 1899 ***
Vol. XX.—No. 1003.] MARCH 18, 1899. [Price One Penny.
[Transcriber’s Note: This Table of Contents was not present in the original.]
“OUR HERO.”
OUR LILY GARDEN.
IN THE TWILIGHT SIDE BY SIDE.
SOME NEW GUITAR MUSIC.
A VICE-REGAL DINNER-PARTY.
ABOUT PEGGY SAVILLE.
GOOD CHEER FOR WOMEN WORKERS.
OLD ENGLISH COTTAGE HOMES;
HIS GREAT REWARD.
A DREAM OF FAIR SERVICE.
ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.
“OUR HERO.”
By AGNES GIBERNE, Author of “Sun, Moon and
Stars,” “The Girl at the Dower House,” etc.
CHAPTER XXV.
ROY BARON A FUGITIVE.
On the edge of a little clearing in the centre of the wood stood a small square
charcoal-burner’s cottage, built of stone. Near behind might be seen a good-
sized outhouse or woodhouse; and to one side was the pile of slowly-burning
charcoal. Round and about were heaps of unsightly rubbish and of blackened
moss.
Nobody seemed to be within or at hand. Jean opened the cottage door
without difficulty; and when they had passed through, he bolted it in their
rear.
Then in the darkness he found his way to a corner, struck a light with flint and
steel, made a “dip” to burn, and groped anew. The one window was closely
shuttered.
Roy flung himself upon a small bench, glad to get his breath, and watched the
other’s doings curiously.
“Are we to stop here?” he asked. “But if the gendarmes come?”
“We must circumvent them, M’sieu.”
“How? What are you going to do?”
Jean was too busy to reply. He produced a blouse, such as would be worn by
a French labouring lad, with shirt and trousers to match, and brought them to
Roy. “M’sieu must change his clothes,” he said. “Rest afterwards.”
“All right,” once more assented Roy, though the cottage was swimming and
his ears were buzzing with fatigue. He stood up, and promptly divested
himself of what he wore, to assume a different guise. Jean brought from the
same corner a small bottle of dark liquid, which he mixed with a little water in
a basin, and then dyed Roy’s hair and eyebrows, thereby altering his look to
such an extent that even his mother might almost have passed him by. Roy
laughed so much under this operation, as to discompose the operator.
“Tenez, M’sieu! Taisez-vous, donc, s’il vous plait! M’sieu, I entreat. I assure
Monsieur it is no matter for laughter.”
“If you knew what it is to be free again, you’d laugh too,” declared Roy, and
then his merriment passed into a big yawn. “But I’m awfully sleepy.”
“Deux minutes, and Monsieur shall rest. Monsieur is hungry.”
Monsieur undoubtedly was, though the craving to lie down was even greater
than the craving to eat. Jean handed him a hunch of bread and cheese and a
glass of milk; and while Roy was occupied with the same, he proceeded to
array himself in holiday costume. He donned an old and shabby but once
gorgeous coat, with standing collar and gay buttons, which, as he informed
Roy, had many long years before been the best holiday coat of his esteemed
grandfather.
“I go to the wedding of my niece,” he remarked, with so much satisfaction
that, for a moment, Roy really thought he meant it. “Does Monsieur perceive?
And Monsieur will be the boy—Joseph—who goes with me in the little cart.”
“But where is the little cart?”
“All in good time, M’sieu. Now we have for the moment to get rid of these
things.”
Jean rolled the discarded clothes into a bundle, with which he disappeared out
of the cottage for a few minutes. Roy conjectured that he might have buried it
in the bushes, or under heaps of black rubbish, abundance of which lay ready
to hand. Jean then took Roy into the outhouse, which was more than two-
thirds full of heavy logs and faggots of wood—the winter supply—piled
together.
“Am I to get underneath all that, Jean?”
“Oui, M’sieu. The gendarmes will not easily find you there.”
“And you too?”
“Non, M’sieu. I betake myself to the soupente.”
The soupente in a French cottage is a kind of upper cupboard, a small corner
cut off from the one room, near the ceiling, descending only half-way to the
ground, and reached by a ladder.
“And if they find you there——”
“M’sieu, if they find me, they will not know me—see, in this dress! I am not
like the Jean who chopped wood at Bitche. And I hope then to draw their
attention from M’sieu! Voyez-vous?”
Roy wrung his hand. “I don’t know what makes you so good to me,” the boy
said huskily. “I—I don’t think it’s fair upon you, though. And—I can’t think
why!”
“It is not difficult to tell M’sieu why!” Jean looked abstractedly at the roof of
the wood-hut. “It is for the sake of my mother—for the sake of that kind
Monsieur le Capitaine, who would not leave her unhappy. Does M’sieu
remember—how Monsieur le Capitaine regarded my mother that day?”
Roy remembered—and understood.
“Now, Monsieur! We may not lose time. The light grows fast.”
Jean pulled down and hauled aside logs and masses of wood, making a kind
of little cave or hollow far back, where Roy could creep in and lie close to the
wall. Jean wrapped round him an old coat, for warmth; and then, when he
had laid himself down, threw light black rubbish over him as an additional
security, before carefully heaping up anew the logs and faggots, till not the
faintest sign remained of any human being beneath. Jean did his utmost to
deface all tokens that the wood-pile had been disturbed.
“M’sieu must lie still,” he said. “On no account must M’sieu move or speak. If
by chance I should have to go away, M’sieu must wait till nightfall, when the
cart will come to take M’sieu elsewhere.”
“But I say, Jean—you must not get into trouble for me,” called Roy, his voice
sounding far and muffled.
“Bien, M’sieu. Trust Jean to do his best. Can M’sieu breathe easily?”
“Rather stuffy, but it’s all right.”
“Au revoir, M’sieu. I go to the soupente. M’sieu will remain in the bûcher, till I
or my friend come again.”
Then silence. Jean returned to the cottage, where he rinsed the basin which
had been used for dyeing purposes, put things straight, unbolted the front
door, climbed up into the little soupente, drawing the ladder after him, and
there laid himself flat, under a pile of loose rubbish. Soon he was or
pretended to be asleep.
Roy’s sleep was no pretence. Despite his hard bed, and the “stuffiness” of the
limited atmosphere which he had to breathe, despite fear of gendarmes and
risks of discovery, he was very soon peacefully sound asleep, and knew no
more for the next two hours.
Something roused him then. In a moment he was wide awake; his heart
thumping unpleasantly against his side.
The gendarmes had come.
Roy of course could see nothing; he could only hear; and he heard a good
deal more than might have been expected from his position, since his senses
were quickened by the exigency of the moment. Also, the men made a good
deal of noise, after the manner of gendarmes. Roy imagined that three or four
of them must be there.
They made their way first into the cottage, surprised to find the door on the
latch, and nobody within. The fact of finding the door thus tended to allay
their suspicions, as Jean had hoped. On the face of matters, nothing was less
probable than that fugitives hiding within should not so much as have drawn
the bolt. They walked round the one room, knocking things about a little. One
of them looked vaguely about for a ladder, but seeing none he did not trouble
himself further as to the soupente.
Then they left the cottage, and entered the bûcher, where the wood was
solidly and firmly piled together, as for the winter’s use. No signs here of
human life. Roy below the pile lay motionless, every faculty concentrated into
listening. One of the men kicked down a few faggots, and another pulled at a
log. To Roy it sounded as if they were making their way to where he was. But
the search stopped at last, after what seemed to Roy a small century of
suspense, and they took themselves off. He heard them mount their horses
and trot away.
“Safe!” murmured Roy, and in his heart there was a fervent “Thank God!” not
spoken in words.
He wondered whether Jean would come to him; but Jean remained absent;
and Roy obeyed orders, staying where he was. Presently he dropped asleep
again, and remembered nothing more for hours.
How many hours he had no means of knowing. Where he lay, he was in pitch
darkness. When he woke, he had the consciousness which we often have
after sleep, of a considerable time having elapsed; but whether it was now
morning or afternoon or evening he could not even guess. He only knew that
he was growing frightfully weary of his constrained position, longing to get
out and exert himself. To sleep more was not possible. He waited, minute
after minute, wondering if the long slow day would ever come to an end. At
length a voice sounded—
“M’sieu!”
“All right,” called Roy.
“Can M’sieu wait a little longer? I hope to get Monsieur out soon—after dark.
It is not safe before then.”
“I’ll wait, Jean. Only as soon as possible, please.”
“Oui, M’sieu.”
Jean disappeared anew. Roy put a question, and had no answer. He was
wildly hungry, but there was nothing to be done except to endure.
The wisdom of Jean’s caution became apparent. Before darkness settled down
the same party of gendarmes again galloped up and sprang to the ground.
They walked as before through cottage and shed, once more kicking the
furniture about. This time one of them found the ladder, went up it, and
stepped inside the soupente; but Jean had betaken himself to another hiding-
place outside the cottage, and the search bore no fruit. The men entered the
wood-hut again, in a perfunctory manner, knocking down a log or two
carelessly, and using one to another rough language as to the escaped
prisoner, which boded no gentle treatment for Roy should he fall into their
clutches. Then they vanished, and silence settled down anew upon the scene.
“Not likely to come again, I hope,” murmured Roy. “O I am tired of this!”
One more hour he had to endure; and then came the welcome sound of Jean
removing the wood-piles.
“Can M’sieu stand?” asked Jean.
Roy crept out slowly, made the effort, and fell flat. Jean pulled him up, and
held him on his feet.
“All right, I’m only stiff,” declared Roy. “They won’t come back, I suppose.”
“Non, M’sieu.”
“Why, it’s night, I declare! Been so dark in there, I didn’t know the difference
between night and day. There, now I can walk.” Roy managed to reach the
cottage on his own limbs unassisted. “What a desperately long day it has
been.”
“M’sieu has found it wearying, sans doute.”
“But as if that mattered! As if anything mattered—only to get away safely!”
Roy said energetically. “Jean, you are a good fellow! Is this for me to eat? I’m
as hungry as a bear! Jean, I shall always think better of Frenchmen for your
sake.”
“Yet M’sieu will doubtless fight us one day.”
“I shall fight Buonaparte, not the French nation. I like some of your people
awfully—some at Fontainebleau, and some at Verdun. And Mademoiselle de
St. Roques most of all.”
“Oui, M’sieu. M’sieu had better eat.”
“All right, I’m eating, and you must too. Oh, lots of French have been as good
and as kind to us détenus as they possibly could be. And I only know one
single lodging-house keeper who behaved like a brute. Most of them have
been just the other way. Why, they have kept on lodgers month after month,
out of sheer kindness, when they couldn’t pay anything because no money
reached them from England. I know all that! And I like the French—only not
Boney!”
Jean smiled to himself.
“Cependant, M’sieu, the army of the Emperor is made of French soldiers.”
“Can’t help that,” retorted Roy. “And they can’t help it either, poor fellows—
most of them. I say, this cheese is uncommonly good. Where did you manage
to hide it away, so as to keep it from the gendarmes? Jean, were you long at
Bitche? Tell me about it.”
Jean was cautious. He evidently preferred not to enter into details. It was
better for Roy’s own sake that he should not know too much. It seemed,
however, that on Jean’s arrival at Bitche, he had found one of the gendarmes
to be an old acquaintance; and through this gendarme, not through his
soldier-friend, he had obtained a temporary post in the fortress. A man who
did rough work, chopping and carrying wood and so on, had fallen ill and had
gone home for a fortnight to a neighbouring village. Meanwhile, Jean was
allowed to undertake his work.
This gave Jean a good opportunity to study the fortress and to make himself
acquainted with the surrounding country. He did not fully explain to Roy the
maturing of his plans during that fortnight, nor precisely what those plans had
been. The careful manner in which he avoided speaking of his soldier-friend
made Roy pretty sure that the said friend had had some sort of hand in aiding
his escape; but he put no more questions in this direction. Jean had had two
or three glimpses of Roy from time to time; but he had held carefully aloof,
until he saw his way to action. Then he contrived to be sent into the yard just
when the better class of prisoners was assembled there; and the rest Roy
knew.
“Why was I sent to that upstairs room?” demanded Roy.
“M’sieu, there were doubtless reasons. It is sometimes best that one should
not know all the reasons that may exist,” observed Jean meditatively. “What if,
perhaps, somebody had known of the intended escape, and had tried by that
means to save M’sieu from danger?”
“Jean, was it you?”
“Non, M’sieu!”—decidedly. But whether Jean spoke the truth on this point,
whether Jean might or might not have had a hand in the wire-pulling which
led to that event, Roy had no means of knowing. He felt that further
questioning would be unfair. He had but to be thankful that he was free.
By the time hunger and thirst were satisfied, Roy’s spirits had risen to a pitch
unknown to him during eight months past. Then, the land being shrouded in
darkness, a rough little cart drawn by a rough little pony and driven by a
charcoal-burner came to the door. Roy spoke a few grateful words to him, as
well as again to Jean, for their generous help. After which, he and Jean
started in the cart, taking a small lantern with them.
This next stage of the journey meant quicker and easier advance than that of
the night before. The pony was both strong and willing; and all through the
hours of darkness they were getting farther and farther away from Bitche. By
dawn of day the fear of pursuit was immensely lessened. Even if the
gendarmes had overtaken them, they would hardly have suspected the odd
figure in a smart old coat and ancient cocked hat of being the temporary
wood-chopper at Bitche, or the black-haired boy in a rough blouse of being
their prisoner, Roy Baron.
For greater safety, both that day and the next, they found a retired spot in
which to hide, letting the pony loose to browse and rest on some rough
ground, or putting up it and the cart at a wayside inn, and calling for it later.
One way and another, the dreaded pursuit was eluded; and, as day after day
went by, Roy felt himself indeed free and on the road for Home.
“Why should you not come with me to England, Jean? I can promise you that
you’d be well looked after there by my friends,” urged Roy. He had grown
sincerely fond of this kind, thoughtful Frenchman.
They were now fast nearing the coast, and their next halting-place was to be
at a farm-house within sight of the sea. There they would have to remain until
an opportunity should occur for Roy to cross the Channel. Since he had no
passport he could not attempt to journey by the ordinary routes. But even
here Jean’s resources did not fail, and the owners of the said farmhouse were
near relatives of his own.
“Non, M’sieu. I should feel strange in another country. Also—have I not
promised to let Monsieur le Capitaine, and Monsieur votre Père, and Madame
votre Mère, hear of your safety? Could I disappoint them?”
“But, I say, will it be safe for you to go back to Verdun? What if they find out
that you have helped me to get away?”
“They will not find out, M’sieu. It was known that I should leave Bitche that
night—and my friends will have diverted suspicion from me. Moreover, it is no
such hard matter to make a little disguise of myself—if need be.”
Then they reached the farm, and Roy found himself among friends, ready all
to shield him for Jean’s sake. It was decided that he should work as a boy
upon the farm, sufficiently to draw no attention upon himself, since the
waiting for a passage might be long. Roy was willing to be or to do anything,
if only he might at last escape to England.
The farmer’s eldest son, a soldier by conscription in the army of Napoleon,
had been a prisoner in England; and he, like Roy, had made his escape,
getting safely back to France. Roy, immensely interested in this story, plied
the farmer and his wife with questions as to the experiences of the young
fellow in an English prison—questions which they were not loath to answer.
They had, of course, the whole story at their fingers’ ends.
It was at a place called “Norman’s Cross” that their Philippe had been
confined—somewhere not far from the eastern coast of England. About seven
thousand prisoners of war, chiefly Frenchmen, were there kept under close
surveillance. The prison and the barracks were built on high land, healthy
enough—yes, certainly, as to that, the farmer said—with plenty of fresh air.
And the prisoners were guarded more by sentinels in all directions, than by
fortifications, walls, moats, or dungeons.
“Not like Bitche!” interjected Roy.
Well, no, certainly—Monsieur spoke correctly. The place—Norman’s Cross, and
the old farmer made a funny sound of these two words—was not precisely like
Bitche. As to arrangements, Philippe had had no fault to find with the food
provided. It was good of its kind; and cooks were chosen from among the
French prisoners by themselves, being paid for their work of cooking by the
English Government. Also, when Philippe fell ill, he found the hospital well
managed. A school for prisoners was kept going; and several billiard-tables as
well as other amusements were provided.
But, ah, the poor Philippe, he had been unhappy in captivity! Was it not
natural? Had not Monsieur himself experienced the same? He had longed to
be free—to return to his own country once more. And though on the whole
the prisoners had been fairly well treated, at all events in that particular place,
yet of course there had been cases of roughness and of harsh treatment.
Moreover, there was much to make a prisoner sad—the desperate gaming, the
perpetual duelling, among his fellow-prisoners were of themselves sufficient.
[1] So, after more than a year of captivity, always more and more hopeless,
with no token of the war drawing to a close, he had at last resolved to make
his escape. And, through great dangers, privations, difficulties, he had actually
succeeded.
Where was Philippe now? Ah—pour cela—he had rejoined his regiment, and
was again at his old occupation. Fighting, fighting—who could say for how
long? Perhaps to be again taken prisoner, and once again to be at Norman’s
Cross! Who could foretell?
(To be continued.)
OUR LILY GARDEN.
PRACTICAL AIDS TO THE CULTURE OF LILIES.
By CHARLES PETERS.
Lilium Brownii.
Japan is the home of lily culture. Not only are the Japanese Islands rich in
native lilies, but their inhabitants, imbued with a love of flowers, which to our
Western minds is almost incomprehensible, have introduced into their country
all the prominent plants of Eastern Asia. And with a knowledge which we
possess in but a small degree, they have modified and beautified both their
own plants and those that they have introduced from foreign countries.
The culture of the lily in Japan has reached a high stage of development, and
most of our best varieties of lilies owe their origin to Japanese gardeners.
Foremost among the lilies of Japan is the one which bears the name of its
native place. Lilium Japonicum Odorum is one of the very finest of the lilies,
and in the strength of its perfume it is absolutely without a rival.
The true L. Japonicum, or, as it is now more generally termed, L. Japonicum
Odorum is but little known in England, but an allied species, L. Brownii, is well
known, and though not grown so frequently as it should be, it is deservedly
popular.
It has always been a question whether L. Japonicum and L. Brownii are but
varieties of the same plant. Certainly there is a great similarity between them,
but there are points in which the two plants differ and these differences are
very constant.
In Dr. Wallace’s little book on lily culture the differences between these two
lilies are detailed in tabular form, and for ourselves we are fully convinced that
L. Brownii and L. Japonicum are distinct but very nearly allied species.
The bulb of L. Japonicum is white or yellowish, but never brown. The scales
are narrow and are very loosely connected with the base. The bulb is always
rather loose and the scales divergent, but good bulbs have a very firm centre.
The bulb of L. Brownii is usually reddish and the scales are broad. The base is
very small, and the whole bulb has a curious and very characteristic shape.
The shoot of L. Japonicum is greener and blunter than that of L. Brownii. The
shoot of the latter lily very much resembles thick asparagus.
During growth it is easy to distinguish between these two lilies, for the stem
of L. Japonicum is green, while that of L. Brownii is brown.
There is not very much difference in the flowers of these lilies. L. Brownii
often bears three blossoms, and in one case, recorded in The Garden, five
blossoms upon one stem. Two blossoms are very frequently present on the
same stem. We have never known L. Japonicum to bear more than one
blossom on each shoot.
Lilium Longiflorum.
The flowers of L. Japonicum are a rich custard yellow while they are opening,
but in the fully expanded blossom the colour of the interior is a rich creamy
white. The pollen is reddish brown. The exterior of the perianth is thickly
streaked with chocolate colour. The scent of this flower is very strong,
resembling that of the Jasmine.
The flowers of L. Brownii never show the deep yellow colour which is present
in the partially opened buds of L. Japonicum. The pollen is deep brown and
the exterior of the blossoms is more streaked with brown than are those of L.
Japonicum. We cannot recognise any difference in the smell of these two
lilies, but Dr. Wallace contends that the smell of L. Brownii is only moderately
strong, like that of L. Longiflorum; while other authors have denied to L.
Brownii any scent whatever!
There is but little reason in the naming of any plant nowadays, and the foolish
and unscientific methods of naming plants after some person who has
discovered, or described, or who has often done nothing more than bought a
specimen of the plant, is unfortunately very rife. Scientists have tried and are
still trying to put down this absurd nomenclature, but they are thwarted in
every way by gardeners and others. Mr. Jones, Nurseryman, has just flowered
a lily. He does not know its name. What does he do? Does he trouble to find
out if the plant is known to science? Not he! He labels it Lilium Jonesii. Mrs.
Smith, a very aristocratic lady and a great patron of Mr. Jones, comes along,
sees, admires and buys that lily. She asks Mr. Jones to send her the plant, and
it arrives labelled, “Lilium Jonesii var. Smithii.” So much for gardeners’ floral
nomenclature!
Can anyone tell us who is the Mr. Brown after whom L. Brownii is named? As
far as we can find out that gentleman is quite unknown to science. Perhaps
some wag might suggest that the name originated through ignorance. The
man who discovered the lily—or rather who thought he had discovered it, for
the plant has been cultivated in Japan for centuries—perceiving that the
colour brown was very characteristic of the flower, wanted to name the lily
with a Latinised version of “The Brown Lily,” but his classical education, having
been somewhat neglected, he knew not the Latin for brown, so he named the
plant Lilium Brownii or Browni to cloak his ignorance.
As no one is certain of the origin of the name Brownii, so no one knows the
original habitat of this species. All our specimens come from Japan, but it is
very doubtful whether it is a native of that land.
Have you ever seen a clump of L. Brownii in flower? Last July there was a bed
of this lily at Kew in full blossom, and as the weather had been remarkably
suitable to the plant, and its blossoms had not been injured by rain, the sight
of that bed was one of the loveliest sights we can remember.
This lily has lately become more popular than formerly, but it is very far from
enjoying that universal admiration which it amply deserves. One reason for its
comparative scarcity is its tendency to degenerate, a tendency which we
strongly suspect is due to improper culture.
It is usually stated that this lily should be grown in very light sandy soil. We
have grown it in such a soil and also in a strong, well-manured, peaty loam—a
soil as different from a light sandy soil as can be well imagined. Those lilies
grown in the light soil became diseased and died without flowering. Those in
the heavy soil grew strong and very tall, never showed any trace of disease,
and each spike produced two perfect blossoms.
The depth of the colour of the exterior of the blossoms varies with the
amount of light in which the lily is grown. Specimens grown indoors usually
have a pure white exterior. The blossoms are very tender and are often
cankered by rain at the flowering time.
Both L. Brownii and L. Japonicum make admirable pot plants, and their
blossoms last a long time as cut flowers.
The variety of L. Brownii called Leucanthum lacks the brown coloration of the
blossoms. We cannot distinguish it from the ordinary variety when grown
indoors. There are several other so-called varieties.
All the lilies which we have described are natives of Asia, but now we come to
one which inhabits our own continent.
Lilium Candidum, the white, or Madonna, or St. Joseph’s Lily, is
unquestionably the lily. And when we mention the lily, this is the plant which
is usually meant.
Common as this lily has been in English gardens for very many centuries, it is
not a native plant, and has very rarely escaped from cultivation. We have only
once seen this lily growing wild. This was in a wood in Surrey, and it was
probably a garden escape. There was but one spike of blossoms in 1895 when
we first saw it. Next year it produced one solitary flower, but since that period
it has entirely disappeared.
Why this lily has never become wild in England is not very obvious, for though
it never seeds in our Island, it very rapidly increases by off-sets formed round
the bulbs, and hundreds of these must be thrown away yearly.
Perhaps it is that the lily is not really hardy in our climate, and though it will
flourish when tended in the garden, it is unable to hold its own in the strife
with our native plants.
Where the white lily will grow, it is one of the loveliest of garden plants.
Always better where it has been long established and undisturbed for years, it
is in old gardens that this lily is seen in perfection.
Unlike the lilies we have already considered, the Lilium Candidum bears from
four to thirty blossoms on each stem. It is true that one very rarely sees an
umbel of more than ten blossoms, but a plant bearing only this number is a
very marked feature in a garden.
This lily differs from every one of its colleagues in many points. Its bulb which
we figured in our first part is very characteristic. About the end of October the
white lily begins to throw up an autumn crop of leaves. This alone marks it off
from all other lilies, for though one or two species do sometimes send up a
stray leaf or two in autumn, none of them do so regularly. But with L.
Candidum the autumn leaves are never absent, and they remain green and
fresh till long after the flower shoot has appeared.
The flowers of the white lily are very different from those of L. Longiflorum
and its allies. They are very short, widely-expanded and very numerous. The
pollen is yellow. The flowers have a pleasant though rather strong perfume.
Though this plant has been grown for centuries in gardens, there are but few
varieties of it.
One variety named Aureo-Marginatis has its leaves bordered with golden-
yellow and the autumn growth looks very striking in winter.
Three other varieties are recognised. Monstrosum or Flora-pleno, has double
flowers. But the flowers themselves never develop, the bracts becoming a
greenish-white. It is an ugly and worthless plant and is deservedly neglected.
The two other varieties are called peregrinus and striatum. In the latter the
flowers are streaked with purple. Neither variety is of any value.
The white lily is one of the oldest of all garden plants. It was certainly
cultivated by the Romans, and is in all probability the origin of the “Fleur de
Lys.”
If you turn up L. Candidum in any book of gardening, you will find something
like this: “The Lilium Candidum will grow anywhere, provided the soil is of a
light sandy nature.” If you follow this advice, you will probably lose every one
of your plants.
We cannot, alas, tell you how to grow this lily to perfection, for the simple
reason that we cannot do so ourselves. We can only tell you how not to grow
it and how we have obtained moderate success.
The bulbs must be planted early in autumn. It is best to plant them in late
August or early September. If you defer planting till December or later, the
bulbs will not produce an autumn crop of leaves, they will not send up a
flower spike next season, and will probably lie rotting in the ground.
Except in very exceptional circumstances this lily will not flower well the first
year it is planted, for it needs several years to accustom itself to new
surroundings.
When once this plant is established and flowers well, it should never be
disturbed.
The bulbs should be planted about a foot deep. Often when the bulbs have
been in the ground for some years, they will work their way to the surface.
Even if this happens it is best to leave them alone, if they flower well. But if
the blossoms begin to deteriorate, take up the bulbs and replant them.
Now about the soil. L. Candidum won’t grow in sand and does not like a
sandy soil at all. It must have a rich moderately heavy loam of good depth. It
is in the black heavy loam of the Thames valley that we have seen this lily at
its best. It likes lime in the soil, but dislikes peat.
If this lily is grown in light sandy soil, it grows beautifully till about the middle
of May. Disease then commences and kills all your lilies with rapid strides, so
that out of one hundred spikes you may get perhaps three half-rotten flowers.
This has been our experience of growing this lily in the orthodox way, and we
have lost very many hundreds of flowers through following the generally
received opinions.
Lilium Candidum makes a fairly good pot-plant, if the pot in which it is placed
is very deep.
This plant is grown in nearly every cottage garden, and is very cheap to
purchase. About ten shillings a hundred is the ordinary price of the bulbs.
Since we wrote our account of the diseases of lilies we have heard of a new
method of treating the bulbs of Lilium Candidum, when year after year the
spikes become diseased. The bulbs are washed and then baked in a cool
oven. We have heard that though this method does, to a certain extent, check
the disease, it very materially interferes with the growth and blossoming of
the plant.
Resembling L. Candidum in the form and number of its flowers, but differing
from it in almost every other particular, the next lily, “The Lily of Washington,”
is a species which taxes the resources of the lily-growers to their utmost.
Lilium Washingtonianum is the first lily which we meet with from the great
Western Continent. It inhabits California and the North West, growing upon
the rocks and mountain slopes of its native home.
The bulb of this lily is different from that of any other. It is long, oblique, and
rhizomatous. Its peculiar ovoid shape is due to the fact that it grows at one
end only. The flower-spike always appears from near the growing end. The far
end of the bulb gradually decays as the near end grows. Bulbs of this lily are
often five or six inches long and two inches broad. The only other lily which
bears a bulb in any way resembling this is L. Humboldti, a native of the same
places.
The leaves of L. Washingtonianum are arranged in whorls, and are quite
different from any other Eulirion except Lilium Parryi, the next species.
The flowers are borne in a dense raceme. Good specimens often bear as
many as twenty or thirty blossoms, but only too commonly but one or two
flowers are borne on each stem.
Individually the flowers are not much, being small, thin, and of a pale purple,
fading to the deeper shades of purple. The pollen is yellow. There is a variety
of this species, called Purpureum, in which the flowers are upright. In this
type the upper flowers look upwards, the middle ones are horizontal and the