The sycamore fig, Ficus Sycomorus, is a tree of large size, with heart-shaped leaves, which, from their fancied resemblance to those of the mulberry, gave origin to the name Συκόμορος. From the deep shade cast by its spreading branches, it is a favourite tree in Egypt and Syria, being often planted along roads and near houses. It bears a sweet edible fruit, somewhat like that of the common fig, but produced in racemes on the older boughs. The apex of the fruit is sometimes removed, or an incision made in it, to induce earlier ripening. The ancients, after soaking it in water, preserved it like the common fig. The porous wood is only fit for fuel.
| Figure 2.—India-rubber Tree, Ficus elastica, showing spreading woody roots. |
The sacred fig, peepul, or bo, Ficus religiosa, a large tree with heart-shaped, long-pointed leaves on slender footstalks, is much grown in southern Asia. The leaves are used for tanning, and afford lac, and a gum resembling caoutchouc is obtained from the juice; but in India it is chiefly planted with a religious object, being regarded as sacred by both Brahmans and Buddhists. The former believe that the last avatar of Vishnu took place beneath its shade. A gigantic bo, described by Sir J. Emerson Tennent as growing near Anarajapoora, in Ceylon, is, if tradition may be trusted, one of the oldest trees in the world. It is said to have been a branch of the tree under which Gautama Buddha became endued with his divine powers, and has always been held in the greatest veneration. The figs, however, hold as important a place in the religious fables of the East as the ash in the myths of Scandinavia.
Ficus elastica, the India-rubber tree (figure 2), the large, oblong, glossy leaves, and pink buds of which are so familiar in our greenhouses, furnishes most of the caoutchouc obtained from the East Indies. It grows to a large size, and is remarkable for the snake-like roots that extend in contorted masses around the base of the trunk. The small fruit is unfit for food.
Ficus bengalensis, or the Banyan, wild in parts of northern India, but generally planted throughout the country, has a woody stem, branching to a height of 70 to 100 ft. and of vast extent with heart-shaped entire leaves terminating in acute points. Every branch from the main body throws out its own roots, at first in small tender fibres, several yards from the ground; but these continually grow thicker until they reach the surface, when they strike in, increase to large trunks, and become parent trees, shooting out new branches from the top, which again in time suspend their roots, and these, swelling into trunks, produce other branches, the growth continuing as long as the earth contributes her sustenance. On the bank’s of the Nerbudda stood a celebrated tree of this kind, which is supposed to be that described by Nearchus, the admiral of Alexander the Great. This tree once covered an area so immense, that it was known to shelter no fewer than 7000 men, and though much reduced in size by the destructive power of the floods, the remainder was described by James Forbes (1749-1819), in his Oriental Memoirs (1813-1815) as nearly 2000 ft. in circumference, while the trunks large and small exceeded 3000 in number. The tree usually grows from seeds dropped by birds on other trees. The leaf-axil of a palm forms a frequent receptacle for their growth, the palm becoming ultimately strangled by the growth of the fig, which by this time has developed numerous daughter stems which continue to expand and cover ultimately a large area. The famous tree in the Royal Botanic Gardens, Calcutta, began its growth at the end of the 18th century on a sacred date-palm. In 1907 it had nearly 250 aerial roots, the parent trunk was 42 ft. in girth, and its leafy crown had a circumference of 857 ft.; and it was still growing vigorously. Both this tree and F. religiosa cause destruction to buildings, especially in Bengal, from seeds dropped by birds germinating on the walls. The tree yields an inferior rubber, and a coarse rope is prepared from the bark and from the aerial roots.
[1] Of these the case of the Barren Fig-tree (Mark. xi. 12-14, 20-21: compare Matt. xxi. 18-20), which Jesus cursed and which then withered away, has been much discussed among theologians. The difficulty is in Mark xi. 13: “And seeing a fig-tree afar off having leaves, he came, if haply he might find anything thereon; and when he came to it he found nothing but leaves, for the time of figs was not yet.” These last words obviously raise the question whether the expectation of Jesus of finding figs, and his cursing of the tree on finding none, were not unreasonable. Many ingenious solutions have been propounded, by suggested emendations of the text and otherwise, for which consult M’Clintock and Strong’s Cyclopaedia of Biblical Literature (sub “Fig”) and the Encyclopaedia Biblica (“Fig-tree”); the former demurs to the unreasonableness, and contends that the appearance of the leaves at this season (March) indicated a pretentious precocity in this particular fig-tree, so that Jesus was entitled to expect that it would also have fruit, even though the season had not arrived; the Ency. Biblica, on the other hand, supposes that some “early Christian,” confounding parable with history, has misunderstood the parable in Luke xiii. 6-9, and, forgetting that the season was not one for figs, has transformed it here into the narrative of an act of Jesus. The probability seems to be that the words “for the time of figs was not yet” are an unintelligent gloss by an early reader, which has made its way into the text. For authorities see the works mentioned above.
[2] From Lat. caprificus, a wild fig; O. Eng. caprifig.
FIGARO, a famous dramatic character first introduced on the stage by Beaumarchais in the Barbier de Séville, the Mariage de Figaro, and the Folle Journée. The name is said to be an old Spanish and Italian word for a wigmaker, connected with the verb cigarrar, to roll in paper. Many of the traits of the character are to be found in earlier comic types of the Roman and Italian stage, but as a whole the conception was marked by great originality; and Figaro soon, seized the popular imagination, and became the recognized representative of daring, clever and nonchalant roguery and intrigue. Almost immediately after its appearance, Mozart chose the Marriage of Figaro as the subject of an opera, and the Barber of Seville was treated first by Paisiello, and afterwards in 1816 by Rossini. In 1826 the name of the witty rogue was taken by a journal which continued till 1833 to be one of the principal Parisian periodicals, numbering among its contributors such men as Jules Janin, Paul Lacroix, Léon Gozlan, Alphonse Karr, Dr Veron, Jules Sandeau and George Sand. Various abortive attempts were made to restore the Figaro during the next twenty years; and in 1854 the efforts of M. de Villemessant were crowned with success (see [Newspapers]: France).