Handwriting Matters!
- Author
- Pam Linge, Collections Technician
- Date
- April 15, 2025
How Transcription Errors Stand the Test of Time
As we in Collections continue to catalog our backlog of botanical specimens, we sometimes stumble on fascinating detours.
One of my roles as Collections Technician is to catalog label data strictly as written, i.e., verbatim. Exact transcription is critical not only to honor the original intent of the collector, but also to provide unaltered data for future researchers. Handwritten script is often notoriously difficult to read (whether it be ornate, obscure or just plain messy) and this adds to the challenge of precise transcription. One recent batch of handwritten labels contained two-worded notation with Greek numerical prefixes (tri-, tetra-, penta-). I assumed the terms represented a system, but in the interest of efficiency, I entered the text “verbatim” without investigating the system itself.
Eventually I came across the word "Teosandria (XII)" (see red box on label), which did not look Greek to me, and a Google search came up wanting. The word did exist, but only in two 19th-century botanical publications (Brazilian and British), so that's how I initially entered it into our database. As this word appeared on more labels, I wanted to verify it with a substantial reference. I looked more deeply at the first Google search result, the Brazilian Jornal Do Agricultor, (1888) and there it was in print, “Teosandria” (see red arrow).
Expecting to confirm this in the second search result, The British Flora, (1855), I was surprised when a different word appeared—“Icosandria,” with “Ic” in place of the “Te.” Actually, this made much more sense because the prefix "icosa-" means twenty in Greek! This was in keeping with the other Greek terms thus far. (Why did this obscure prefix sound vaguely familiar to me? Origami! Yes, the former paper-folding hobby of mine included constructing geometric solids such as the icosahedron, a polyhedron with twenty sides.) Upon reviewing the original label, I realized I misinterpreted the collector’s handwriting. Evidently, that style of handwriting fooled a Brazilian author over 100 years ago as well!
Ultimately, I found a page in The British Flora that unlocked the mystery of the nomenclature. This Greek-based terminology was from the old Linnaean system, which divided the plant kingdom into 24 classes. Each class described the number of stamens (male parts) on a flower (e.g., Class 3, Triandria has 3 stamens). A class was further divided into orders, which were determined by the number of styles (female parts) (e.g., Tetragynia (4).)
So, this particular collector was also indicating class and order in addition to family, genus and species on his labels. We use different criteria for class and order in plant taxonomy today.
When cataloging hundreds of specimens with handwritten labels, it’s easy to focus on grinding through the sheer quantity of data entry. The effort of deciphering antiquated script often leaves little time for deeper dives into context. So catching my own transcription error led to a couple of surprising discoveries. The same misinterpretation had made it into print long ago, and thanks to a “smart” text search within The British Flora, I learned about the original Linnaean system of classes.
Sources
Jornal Do Agricultor, “A província do Rio de Janeiro e a imigração” Rio, 14 de Janiero de 1888, Carlos Corvo, page 36.
The British Flora: Comprising the Phaenogamous or Flowering Plants, and the Ferns, by Sir William Jackson Hooker and George A. Walker Arnott. London: Longman, Brown, Green, and Longmans, 1855, pages 19-21.