that in the most luxuriant parts of the tropics, flowers are
less abundant, on the average less showy, and are far less
effective in adding colour to the landscape than in temperate
climates. I have never seen in the tropics such brilliant
masses of colour as even England can show in her
furze-clad commons, her heathery mountain-sides, her glades
of wild hyacinths, her fields of poppies, her meadows of
buttercups and orchises—carpets of yellow, purple, azure-
blue, and fiery crimson, which the tropics can rarely exhibit.
We have smaller masses of colour in our hawthorn
and crab trees, our holly and mountain-ash, our broom,
foxgloves, primroses, and purple vetches, which clothe
with gay colours the whole length and breadth of our land.
These beauties are all common. They are characteristic of
the country and the climate; they have not to be sought
for, but they gladden the eye at every step. In the regions
of the equator, on the other hand, whether it be forest or
savannah, a sombre green clothes universal nature. You
may journey for hours, and even for days, and meet with
nothing to break the monotony. Elowers are everywhere
rare, and anything at all striking is only to be met with at
very distant intervals.
The idea that nature exhibits gay colours in the tropics,
and that the general aspect of nature is there more bright
and varied in hue than with us, has even been made the
foundation of theories of art, and we have been forbidden
to use bright colours in our garments, and in the decorations
of our dwellings, because it was supposed that we should
be thereby acting in opposition to the teachings of nature.
The argument itself is a very poor one, since it might
with equal justice be maintained, that as we possess faculties
for the appreciation of colours, we should make up for
the deficiencies of nature and use the gayest tints in those
regions where the landscape is most monotonous. But the
assumption on which the argument is founded is totally
false, so that even if the reasoning were valid, we need not
be afraid of outraging nature, by decorating our houses
and our persons with all those gay hues which are so
lavishly spread over our fields and mountains, our hedges,
woods, and meadows.
It is very easy to see what has led to this erroneous
view of the nature of tropical vegetation. In our hothouses
and at our flower-shows we gather together the
finest flowering plants from the most distant regions of
the earth, and exhibit them in a proximity to each other
which never occurs in nature. A hundred distinct plants,
all with bright, or strange, or gorgeous flowers, make a
wonderful show when brought together; but perhaps no
two of these plants could ever be seen together in a
state of nature, each inhabiting a distant region or a
different station. Again, all moderately warm extra-
European countries are mixed up with the tropics in