The nature of the problem A rose: by any name?

Man’s highly developed constructive curiosity and his capacity for communication are two of the attributes distinguishing him from all other animals. Man alone has sought to understand the whole living world and things beyond his own environment and to pass his knowledge on to others. Consequently, when he discovers or invents something new he also creates a new word, or words, in order to be able to communicate his discovery or invention to others. There are no rules to govern the manner in which such new words are formed other than those of their acceptance and acceptability. This is equally true of the common, or vulgar or vernacular names of plants. Such names present few problems until communication becomes multilingual and the number of plants named becomes excessive. For example, the diuretic dandelion is easily accommodated in European languages. As the lion’s tooth, it becomes Lowenzahn, dent de lion, dente di leone. As piss-abed it becomes pissenlit, piscacane, and piscialetto. When further study reveals that there are more than a thousand different kinds of dandelion throughout Europe, the formulation of common names for these is both difficult and unacceptable. Common plant names present language at its richest and most imaginative (welcome home husband however drunk you be, for the houseleek or Sempervivum; shepherd’s weather-glass, for scarlet pimpernel or Anagallis; meet her i’th’entry kiss her i’th’buttery, or leap up and kiss me, for Viola tricolor; touch me not, for the balsam Impatiens noli-tangere; mind your own business, or mother of thousands, for Soleirolia soleirolii; blood drop emlets, for Mimulus luteus). Local variations in common names are numerous and this is perhaps a reflection of the importance of plants in general conversation, in the kitchen and in herbalism throughout the country in bygone days. An often-quoted example of the multiplicity of vernacular names is that of Caltha palustris, for which, in addition to marsh marigold, kingcup and May blobs, there are 90 other local British names (one being dandelion), as well as over 140 German and 60 French vernacular names. Common plant names have many sources. Some came from antiquity by word of mouth as part of language itself, and the passage of time and changing circumstances have obscured their meanings. Fanciful ideas of a plant’s association with animals, ailments and festivities, and observations of plant structures, perfumes, colours, habitats and seasonality have all contributed to their naming. So too have their names in other languages. English plant names have come from Arabic, Persian, Greek, Latin, ancient British, Anglo-Saxon, Norman, Low German, Swedish and Danish. Such names were introduced together with the spices, grains, fruit plants and others which merchants and warring nations introduced to new areas. Foreign names often remained little altered but some were transliterated in such a way as to lose any meaning which they may have had originally. The element of fanciful association in vernacular plant names often drew upon comparisons with parts of the body and with bodily functions (priest’s pintle for Arum maculatum, open arse for Mespilus germanicus and arse smart for Polygonum hydropiper). Some of these persist but no longer strike us as ‘vulgar’ because they are ‘respectably’ modified or the associations themselves are no longer familiar to us (Arum maculatum is still known as cuckoo pint (cuckoo pintle) and as wake robin). Such was the sensitivity to indelicate names that Britten and Holland, in their Dictionary of English Plant Names (1886), wrote ‘We have also purposely excluded a few names which though graphic in their construction and meaning, interesting in their antiquity, and even yet in use in certain counties, are scarcely suited for publication in a work intended for general readers’. They nevertheless included the