Gardens of Words: How Phebe Lankester Cultivated Knowledge for the Masses

June 9, 1900

On this day, British botanist and author Phebe Lankester departed this mortal coil, though one imagines she did so with the same practical determination with which she lived her extraordinary life. (Books By This Author)

Born Phebe Pope, she married the naturalist Edwin Lankester—a gentleman who divided his time between examining corpses as a coroner and crusading for medical reform. Together, they produced a veritable garden of offspring: eleven children in total! When Phebe was 49, Edwin had the inconvenience to die, leaving her to support this considerable brood through her writings—a task she approached with admirable vigor.

Our dear Mrs. Lankester wrote under several pseudonyms, publishing her books under her married name while penning a popular column as "Penelope" for two decades. One cannot help but wonder if this literary disguise provided her a freedom her society might otherwise have denied. Her intellectual prowess and tireless work ethic cultivated friendships with the finest minds of her day: painters, actors, and writers all fell under her spell. In 1895, Herman Herkomer immortalized her in a portrait that captured what one suspects was her most valuable asset: a sharp wit behind that warm maternal smile.

Unlike certain botanical authors who seem determined to render plants as inaccessible as possible, Mrs. Lankester wrote for the common gardener in a refreshingly familiar tone.

She possessed that rare quality of writing about what she genuinely knew: plants, childhood education on matters of health, and—most scandalously practical—financial management. Her literary garden bloomed with everything from botanical studies to economic advice.

It was the widowed Phebe Lankester who so brilliantly observed:

"Often the most thrifty persons are the most generous, because they can afford to be so."

Phebe frequently collaborated with illustrator James Sowerby and his talented family members, who provided the visual delights to accompany her prose. Her partnership with James produced the delightful volume Wild Flowers Worth Notice, featuring 108 colored illustrations from the talented Mr. Sowerby's hand.

An advertisement from 1861 noted that Mrs. Lankester herself admitted in her "charming preface" the impossible question: "What flowers are not worth notice?" Critics swooned over her selections, which included the most fascinating specimens: sun-dew, mistletoe, bog pimpernel, and the poetically named "grass of Parnassus." One can only imagine the hours she spent trudging through meadows and marshes to find such treasures!

Mrs. Lankester paid tribute to her botanical darlings with delicious snippets of folklore, poetry, and information—serving knowledge with the sweet glaze of entertainment.

In her preface, she borrowed Longfellow's words to express what her own heart clearly felt:

Wondrous truths, and manifold as wondrous,

God hath written in those stars above;

But not less in the bright flowerets under us

Stands the revelation of his love.

Not content with one poetic genius, she also summoned Wordsworth to her cause:

Knowing that Nature never did betray

The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege,

Through all the years of this our life, to lead

From joy to joy.

One particularly astute reviewer commented:

"Mrs. Lankaster writes so easily and naturally, that no deliberate effort seems to have been made. It is a little book, but teaches a great deal, and in so pleasant a way that to be wearied is impossible."

This effortless instruction mirrors the confession on the final page of her book, where our dear author admits she had contemplated such a work many times but hesitated, fearing to offend botanical sensibilities. With characteristic modesty, she wrote:

"Having now gone over the … collection of Wild Flowers, endeavoring to chronicle the chief attractions and virtues of each, I can but feel how little has been said when compared with all that remains unsaid, but felt."

One cannot help but wonder what Mrs. Lankester might have accomplished had she been born in our time, unfettered by Victorian constraints. Would she have exchanged her pen for a professor's podium? Her botanical illustrations for photography? We shall never know, but her legacy of practical knowledge shared in the most palatable fashion remains an example to all who would demystify the natural world.