CHAPTER III

OF HERBS USED IN DECORATIONS, IN HERALDRY, AND FOR ORNAMENT AND PERFUMES

Now will I weave white violets, daffodils, With myrtle spray, And lily bells that trembling laughter fills, And the sweet crocus gay, With these blue hyacinth and the lover’s rose, That she may wear-- My sun-maiden--each scented flower that blows Upon her scented hair.

Trans. from _Meleager_.--W. M. HARDINGE.

It is, perhaps, surprising in studying the history of common English herbs to find how many were the uses to which they were put by our forefathers. One reason of their eminence was that no doubt in pre-hygienic days they were more to be desired, but, besides this, something “delightful to smell to” seems to have been a luxury generally appreciated for its own sake. In his poem of the “Baron’s Wars,” Michael Drayton, by a casual reference, shows how much agreeable scents were valued, and the pains taken to procure them. He is speaking of Queen Isabella’s room.

The fire of precious wood; the light perfume, Which left a sweetness on each thing it shone, As ev’rything did to itself assume The scent from them, and made the same their own, So that the painted flowers within the room Were sweet, as if they naturally had grown. The light gave colours which upon them fell, And to the colours the perfume gave smell.

And in describing the bewilderment of a “young, tender maid,” led through the magnificent court of some prince, he says she was:--

Amazed to see The furnitures and states, which all embroideries be, The rich and sumptuous beds, with tester-covering plumes, And various as the sutes, _so various the perfumes_.

In a discourse, intended to prove that the magic number five is perpetually appearing in all forms of nature, and that network is an equally ubiquitous design, Sir Thomas Browne mentions _en passant_, the “nosegay nets” of the ancients--that is, nets holding flowers, that were suspended from the head, to provide continuously a pleasant odour for the wearer. It is very nice to find a survival of the belief that scents affect the spirits and may be beneficial to the health, and in “Days and Hours in a Garden,” E. V. B. declares herself to be of that opinion. “Sweet Smells... have a certain virtue for different conditions of health,” she says. “Wild Thyme will renew spirits and vital energy in long walks under an August sun. The pure, almost pungent scent of Tea Rose, Maréchal Neil is sometimes invigorating in any lowness of... Sweet Briar promotes cheerfulness... Hawthorn is very doubtful and Lime-blossom is dreamy.... Apple-blossom must be added to my pharmacopœia of sweet smells. To inhale a cluster of Blenheim orange gives back youth for just half a minute after... it is a real, absolute elixir.”

The sacristan’s garden, devoted to growing flowers and herbs for the service of the church, has been already mentioned, and Henry VI. actually left in his will a garden to be kept for this purpose to the church of Eton College (Nichol’s “Wills of the Kings and Queens of England”). After the Reformation the practice of laying fresh green things about the churches was apparently not abandoned, for in 1618, James I. set forth a declaration permitting “Lawfull recreations after divine service, and allowed that women should have leave to carry rushes to the church for the decoring of it according to old custome.”[54] Rushes are still strewed on Whitsunday at the church of St Mary Radcliffe, in Bristol, and the day is often called “Rush-Sunday” there in consequence.

[54] Fuller’s “Church History,” Book X. 1655.

In the accounts of St Margaret’s, Westminster, there is a payment made for “herbs strewn in the church on a day of thanksgiving” in 1650. Coles (1656) says: “It is not very long since the custome of setting up Garlands in Churches, hath been left off with us, and in some places setting up of _Holly_, _Ivy_, _Rosemary_, _Dayes_, _Yew_, etc., in Churches at Christmas, is still in use.”[55] Later, the custom seems almost entirely to have dropped, and in an article in the _Quarterly_ (1842), the writer is torn between pious aspirations and loyalty to the church views of the day: “We cannot but admire the practice of the Church of Rome, which calls in the aid of floral decorations on her festivals. If we did not feel convinced that it was the most bounden duty of the Church of England at the present moment to give no unnecessary offence by restorations in indifferent matters, we should be inclined to advocate, notwithstanding the denunciation of some of the early Fathers, some slight exceptions in the case of our own favourites.”

[55] “Art of Simpling.”

The decorations of English houses were much admired by Dr Levinus Lemmius in 1560, when he visited us. “And beside this, the neate cleanliness, the exquisite finenesse, the pleasaunt and delightfull furniture in every poynt for household, wonderfully rejoiced me; their chambers and parlours strawed over with sweet herbes refreshed me.”[56] Further on, he praises “the sundry sortes of fragraunte floures” about the rooms. Parkinson mentions wall-flowers and “the greater-flag” being used “in nosegayes and to deck up a house,” and Newton says they took branches of willow to trim up their parlours and dining roomes in summer, and did “sticke fresh greene leaves thereof about their beds for coolnesse.”[57] Sir Hugh Platt (1653) advised that “for summer-time your chimney may be trimmed with a fine bank of mosse... or with orpin, or the white flower called everlasting.... And at either end one of your flower or Rosemary pots.... You may also hang in the roof and about the sides of the room small pompions or cowcumbers pricked full of barley, and these will be overgrowne with greene spires, so as the pompion or cowcumber will not appear.... You may also plant vines without the walls, which being let in at quarrels, may run about the sides of your windows, and all over the sealing of your rooms.”[58] Herbs in image were sometimes hung round the room. Harrison mentions “arras worke, or painted cloths, wherein either diverse histories, or hearbes, beasts, knots, and such like are stained.” Of flowers thought specially suitable indoors Tusser (1577) gives a list: “Herbes, branches, and flowers for windows and pots,” and Bachelor’s Buttons, Sweet Briar, and “bottles, blue, red, and tawney” are among the forty he mentions. A separate list is set forth of twenty-one “Strewing Herbs,” and this includes Basil, Balm, Marjoram, Tansy, Germander, and Hyssop. The practice of strewing the floors with herbs and rushes, however, started long before his time. “At the Court of King Stephen, which exceeded in magnificence that of his predecessors ... and in houses of inferior rank upon occasions of feasting, the floor was strewed with flowers.... Becket, in the next reign, according to a contemporary author (Fitz-Stephen) ordered his hall to be strewed every day, in the winter with fresh straw or hay, and in summer with rushes or green leaves, fresh gathered; and this reason is given for it, that such knights as the benches could not contain, might sit on the floor without dirtying their cloaths.”[59] The contrast between the pomp of so large a following, and the simplicity of their accommodation affords an odd picture of the mingled stateliness and bareness in the great man’s household.

[56] Harrison’s “Description of England.” Ed. by Furnivall, 1877.

[57] “Herbal of the Bible,” 1587.

[58] “The Garden of Eden.”

[59] “Pegge’s _Curalia_.”

In the reign of Edward I., “Willielmus filius Willielmi de Aylesbury tenet tres virgatus terræ... per serjeantiam inveniendi stramen ad lectum Domini Regis et ad straminandum cameram suam et etiam inveniendi Domino Rege cum venerit apud Alesbury in estate stramen ad lectum suam et procter hoc herbam ad juncandam cameram suam.”[60] (William, son of William of Aylesbury, holds three roods of land... by serjeantry, of finding straw for the bed of our Lord the King and to straw his chamber... and also of finding for the King when he should come to Aylesbury in summer straw for his bed, and, moreover, grass or rushes to strew his chamber.) Though grass is the literal translation of _herbam_, it is quite possible, judging from old customs generally, that hay or sweet herbs, may be intended here. “It may be observed further that there is a relique of this custom still subsisting, for at Coronations the ground is strewed with flowers by a person who is upon the establishment called the Herb-Strewer, with an annual salary.” From this it appears that there were persons regularly appointed to strew herbs for the royal pleasure, but for what length of time the Herb-Strewer was an official actually living at Court, it is very difficult to discover. At the time of the Coronation of James II. and his Queen, Mary Dowle was “Strewer of Herbes in Ordinary to His Majesty,” and among the instructions issued before the ceremony were the following: “Two breadths of Blue Broad-cloth are spread all along the middle of the Passage from the stone steps in the Hall, to the Foot of the Steps in the Choir, ascending the Theatre, by order of the Lord Almoner of the Day, amounting in all 1220 yards; which cloth is strewed with nine Baskets full of sweet herbs and flowers by the Strewer of Herbs in Ordinary to His Majesty, assisted by six women, two to a Basket, each Basket containing two Bushels.” All the details of his Coronation were most carefully considered and finally settled “in solemn conclave in the presence of James II.,” says Roberts in his sketch of the _Approaching_ Coronation of George II., and “little variation has taken place in the Ceremony since.” From a manuscript belonging to Mr Eyston, of East Hundred, Wantage, dated 1702, W. Jones (“Crowns and Coronations”) quotes an: “Order for a gown of scarlet cloth, with a badge of Her Majesty’s Cypher on it, for the Strewer of Herbs to Her Majesty, as was provided at the last Coronation.” This looks as if she played her part in the ceremony of crowning King William and Queen Mary, and was also present at the crowning of Queen Anne, though Roberts, in his “Complete Account of the Coronations of the Kings and Queens of England” does not mention her. In the State Archives is a “Warrant to the Master of the Great Wardrobe for delivering of scarlet cloth to Alice Blizard, herb strewer to Her Majesty,” dated 30th November 1713, showing that whether at that date she was continually at Court, or whether her services were confined to the day of Coronation, she was at anyrate officially recognised in the ordinary course of things, and not only when any very great ceremony was imminent. I cannot be sure if the Herb Strewer appeared at the Coronation of George I., but she certainly did at that of George II., and in the full accounts of the Coronation of George IV., which was celebrated with great magnificence, there are most elaborate descriptions of her dress, badge, mantle, etc., and also portraits of her in full attire. From among many applicants, the King chose Miss Fellowes, sister of the Secretary to the Lord Great Chamberlain, for the coveted distinction. “Miss Fellowes wore a gold badge suspended from her neck by a gold chain, with an inscription indicative of her office on one side, and the King’s arms beautifully chased on the other. Six young ladies assisted her. Their costume was white, but Miss Fellowes wore, in addition, a scarlet mantle trimmed with gold lace. They were very elegantly dressed in “white muslin, with flowered ornaments. Three large ornamented baskets of flowers were brought in and placed near the ladies,”[61] who walked in the front of the Royal Procession. At ten minutes before eleven Miss Fellowes, with her six tributary herb-women heading the grand procession, appeared at the Western Gate of the Abbey.... She and her maids and the serjeant porter came no further, but remained at the entrance within the west door. In a beautiful series of coloured plates depicting all the costumes worn at that Coronation, there is one of Miss Fellowes and her “maids.” She has a small basket in her left hand; from her right hand, raised high, she is letting a shower of blossoms fall. Her hair is dressed in short ringlets. All the ladies wore wreaths of flowers, and the “maids” have, as well, long garlands falling over one shoulder and across their white dresses almost to the hem. In a charming letter written by Hon. Maria Twistleton to her cousin, Mrs Eardley Childers, there is one more detail of these ladies. “Gold Baskets of Grecian shape, filled with choicest sweets were ranged at their feet, and as they passed they presented a magnolia to us.”[62] A claim to this office was put forward, before the last Coronation, but alas! His Majesty decided to dispense with this picturesque adjunct to the ceremony! Though the strewing of rushes and herbs was a part of the preparations for any household festival, they were a special feature of bridal ceremonies.

[60] Blount’s “Jocular Tenures,” 1679.

[61] “History of the Coronation of George IV.” R. HUISH.

[62] Published _Nineteenth Century_, June 1902.

As I have seen upon a bridal day, Full many maids clad in their best array, In honour of the bride come with their flaskets Fill’d full with flowers: others, in wicker-baskets Bring from the marish, rushes to o’erspread The ground whereon to church the lovers tread.

_Br. Pastorals_, book i.

Drayton, too, alludes to this practice in the “Polyolbion.”

Some others were again as seriously employ’d In strewing of those herbs, at bridals us’d that be Which everywhere they throw with bounteous hands and free. The healthful balm and mint from their full laps do fly.

Song xv.

And gives a long list of wedding flowers, of which Meadow-sweet (sometimes called bridewort) is one. Gilded Rosemary, or sprigs of Rosemary dipped in sweet waters were used, and Brand gives an account of a wedding where the bride was “led to church between two sweet boys with bride-laces and rosemary tied to their silken sleeves.”[63] Nosegays, too, were gathered for weddings, and Brand quotes a remarkable and cynical passage from “The Plaine Country Bridegroom,” by Stephens: “He shews neere affinitie betwixt marriage and hanging, and to that purpose he provides a great nosegay and shakes hands with everyone he meets, as if he were preparing for a condemned man’s voyage.” Herrick’s lines beginning, “Strip her of spring-time, tender, whimpering maids,” are too well known to repeat, but they tell very prettily which flowers were appropriated to the married and which to the unmarried. Dyer tells us that this custom of strewing them is still kept up in Cheshire, with occasional sad results. Often, the flowers that were strewn were emblematical, and if the bride chanced to be unpopular, she stepped her way to church over flowers whose meanings were the reverse of complimentary!

[63] Popular Antiquities.

Drayton’s contemporaries were more amiable.

Who now a posie pins not in his cap? And not a garland baldrick-wise doth wear, Some, of such flowers as to his hand doth hap Others, such as secret meanings bear.

He, from his lass, him lavender hath sent Shewing her love, and doth requital crave, Him rosemary, his sweetheart whose intent, Is that he her should in remembrance have.

Roses, his youth and strong desire express, Her sage, doth show his sovereignty in all; The July-flower declares his gentleness; Thyme, truth; the pansie, heartsease, maidens’ call.

Eclogue ix.

Herbs have pointed proverbs; for instance: “He who sows hatred, shall gather rue,”--a saying which some have found to be “ower-true”; and, “The Herb-Patience does not grow in every man’s garden,”--a piece of wisdom which may be proved only too often. Both these proverbs turn on a pun, but some herbs are alluded to in a literal sense. The old Herbalists used to count Pinks among herbs, and this flower’s name is very commonly heard in the expression: “The pink of perfection.” Mercutio says in _Romeo and Juliet_, “I am the very pink of courtesy”; a phrase which is wonderfully expressive. Miss Amherst quotes an old ballad to show that the periwinkle was used as a term of praise, for in this, a noble lady, a type of excellence, is called, “The parwink of prowesse.” The inelasticity of modern opinions (on herbs) forbids that I should here go into the history of this most interesting flower, beloved by Rousseau and endowed by the French with magic power. One of their names for it is, _Violette de Sorcier_. I will only say that the Italians call it the “Flower of the Dead,” and place it on graves; and to the Germans it is the “Flower of Immortality.” In England it was much used in garlands, and it was with Periwinkle that Simon Fraser was crowned in mockery, when in 1306 (after he had been taken prisoner, fighting for Bruce), he rode, heavily ironed, through London to the place of execution.

Clove gillyflowers were admitted, till lately, into the herb-garden, so I may mention that among several cases of nominal rent, land being held on the payment of certain flowers or other trifles, “three clove gillyflowers to be rendered on the occasion of the King’s Coronation,” was once the condition of holding the “lands and tenements of Ham in Surrey.” Roses were the flowers most often chosen for such a purpose, and roses and gillyflowers together were paid as rent by St Andrew’s Monastery in Northampton at the time of its dissolution under Oliver Cromwell. Blount[64] mentions that Bartholomaus Peyttevyn, of Stony-Aston in Somerset, held his lands on the payment of a “sextary” of Gillyflower wine annually, at Christmastide. A “sextary” contained about a pint and a half, sometimes more. “A still more whimsical tenure was that of a farm at Brookhouse, Penistone, York, for which, yearly, a payment was to be made of a red rose at Christmas and a snowball at mid-summer. Unless the flower of the Viburnum or Guelder-rose, sometimes called Snowball, was meant, the payment bill had been almost impossible in those days when ice-cellars were unknown.”[65]

[64] “Jocular Tenures.”

[65] “History of Signboards.”

Clove gillyflowers found their way into Heraldry, and appeared as heraldic emblems, and besides them, Guillim mentions “Rosemary, Sweet Marjoram, Betony, Purslane and Saffron,” being borne in Coat Armour. But, “because such daintiness and affected adornings better befit ladies and gentlemen than knights and men of valour, whose worth must be tried in the field, not under a rose-bed, or in a garden-plot, therefore the ancient Generous made choice rather of such herbs as grew in the fields, as the Cinque-foil, Trefoil,” etc.[66] It is an interesting explanation of the reason that dictated the choice of these two last herbs, often seen in heraldic bearings. One of Guillim’s corrections must specially delight all west country people. The Coat of the Baskerviles of Hereford was: Argent, a cheveron, Gules, between three Hurts. “These (saith _Leigh_) appear light blue and come of some violent stroke. But, if I mistake not, he is farr wide from the matter... whereas they are indeed a kind of fruit or small round Berry, of colour betwixt black and blue... and in some places called Windberries, and in others Hurts or Hurtleberries.” Guillim knew the popular name of Whortleberries better than did his fellow-author. The idea of choosing three bruises as a “charge” does not seem to have struck _Mr Leigh_ as being at all odd.

[66] Guillim. “Heraldry.”

In Saxony Rue has given its name to an Order. A chaplet of Rue borne bendwise on “barrs of the Coat Armour of the Dukedom of Saxony” (till then “Barry of ten, sable and or,”) was granted by the Emperor Frederick Barbarossa to Duke Bernard of Anhalt (the first of his house to be Duke of Saxony), at his request, “to difference his arms from his Brothers’,” Otho, Marquis of Brandenberg, and Siegfrid, Archbishop of Breme. This took place in the year 1181, but the Order was not founded till more than six centuries had passed, and was then due to Frederick Augustus, first King of Saxony, who created the Order of the _Rautenkrone_ on the 20th July 1807. In the newspapers of October 24th, 1902, it was announced that the King of Saxony had conferred the Order of the Crown of Rue on the Prince of Wales. Sprigs of Rue are now interlaced in the Collar of the Order of the Thistle, but earlier it was composed of thistles and knots. There is extreme uncertainty as to the origin or this Order, and cold suspicion is thrown on assertions that it was, of old, an established “Fraternity,[67] following the lines of other Orders of Knighthood.” The first appearance of a collar is on the gold bonnet pieces struck in 1539, where King James V. is represented with a collar composed alternately of thistle heads and what seem to be knots or links in the form of the figure 8 or of the letter S, and a similar collar is placed round the Royal Arms in another gold piece of the same year. Collars with knots of a slightly different shape appear on Queen Mary’s Great Seal and on that of James VI. Ashmole says:[68] “It was thought fit that the collars of both the Garter and Thistle of King Charles I. should be used in Scotland, 1633”; but after that the Order seems to have lapsed, for Guillim (Ed. 1679) puts the “Order of Knights of The Thistle or of St Andrewe’s” between the Orders of The Knights of the Round Table and the Knights of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem, and speaks of all their rites and ceremonies in the past tense. This seems as if at that period there was an absolute pause in its chequered career. In 1685 it was “revived” by James II. of Great Britain, who created eight knights, but during the Revolution it lapsed again and “lay neglected till Queen Anne in 1703 restored it to the primitive design of twelve Knights of St Andrew” (Every). “By a statute passed in 1827 the Order is to consist of the Sovereign and sixteen Knights” (Burke). Sprigs of Rue do not make their earliest appearance in the collar till about 1629 and then on doubtful authority. “Mirœus, however, states that the Collar was made of Thistles and Sprigs of Rue; and the Royal Achievements of Scotland in Sir George Mackenzie’s ‘Science of Heraldry’ published in 1680, are surrounded by a Collar of Thistles linked with Sprigs of Rue.” Very shortly before this Guillim had described the collar as being “composed of thistles, intermixed with annulets of gold.” So the publication of Sir George Mackenzie’s book must be the approximate date of the introduction of the Rue; the present collar, badge and robe of the Order are the same as those approved by Queen Anne. André Favyn[69] gives the reasons for this choice of plants, though as the Rue made its first appearance in the collar so much later than the date he assigns (which is that of Charlemagne) one cannot help fearing that he drew a little on his imagination. King Achaius took for “his devise the Thistle and the Rewe. And for the Soule therof, Pour ma deffence Because the Thistle is not tractable or easily handled... giving acknowledgment thereby, that hee feared not forraigne Princes his neighbours... as for the Rewe although it be an Herbe and Plant very meane, yet it is (nevertheless full of admirable vertues)... and serveth to expell and drive serpents to flight... and there is not a more soveraigne remedy for such as are poisoned.” Guillim called _Hungus_, King of the Picts, the founder, and says that he, “the Night before the Battle that was fought betwixt him and _Athelstane_, King of England, sawe in the skie a bright Cross in fashion of that whereon St Andrew suffered Martyrdom, and the day proving successful unto _Hungus_ in memorial of the said Apparition, which did presage so happy an omen, the Picts and Scots have ever since bore in the Ensigns and Banners the Figure of the said Cross, which is in fashion of a Saltier. And from thence ’tis believed that this Order took its rise, which was about the year of our Lord 810.” Both authors are quite positive as to their facts regarding the origin of the Order, but they have hardly one fact in common, not even the founder’s name!

[67] Sir H. Nicholas. “History of the Orders of Knighthood of the British Empire.”

[68] “History of the Most Noble Order of the Garter.”

[69] “Theater of Honour.” 1623.

It is perhaps not very well known that there was once a French Order of the Thistle, or, as it was sometimes called, “Order of Bourbon.” It was instituted by Louis II., third Duke of Bourbon, surnamed the Good Duke, and it consisted six and twenty knights,[70] each of whom “wore a Belt, in which was embroydered the word _Esperance_ in capital letters; it had a Buckle of Gold at which hung a tuft like a Thistle; on the Collar also was embroydered the same word _Esperance_, with _Flowers_ de Luce of Gold from which hung an Oval, wherein was the Image of the Virgin _Mary_, entowered with a golden sun, crowned with twelve stars of silver and a silver crescent under her feet; at the end of the Oval was the head of a Thistle.”

[70] Ross. “View of all Religions,” 1653.

There are other Orders called after flowers, or of which flowers form the badge. Several of the “Christian Orders of Knighthood”--orders instituted for some religious or pious purpose--bore lilies among their tokens, and flowers-de-luce appeared in many. The Order of the Lily or of Navarre was instituted by Prince Garcia in 1048. The Order of the _Looking-Glass_ of the Virgin _Mary_ was created by “_Ferdinand_, the Infant of _Castile_, upon a memorable victory he had over the _Moors_. The Collar of this Order was composed of Bough-pots, full of Lillies, interlaced with Griffons.” Ross and Favyn give most curious accounts of the Order “De la Sainte Magdalaine.” This was instituted by a Noble Gentleman of France, who is alternately called John Chesnil or Sieur de la Chapronaye, “Out of a godly Zeal to reclaim the French from their Quarrels, Duels and other sins.... The Cross of the Order had at three ends, three Flowers-de-Luce; the Cross is beset with Palms to shew this Order was instituted to encourage Voyages to the Holy Land, within the Palms are Sunbeams and four _Flowers-de-Luce_ to shew the glory of the French Nation.” They had a house allotted them near Paris, “wherein were ordinarily five hundred Knights, bound to stay there during two years’ probation.... The Knights that live abroad shall meet every year at their house called the lodging Royal on Mary Magdalene’s Festival Day.” The Lay Brothers were to be of good family; the _Vallets des Chevaliers_, of “honestes _Familles d’Artisans et Mecaniques_.” Their garb was carefully ordered, and they were to take the same vows as their master. Other elaborate arrangements were made--“But this Order, as it began, so it ended in the person of Chesnil.” One’s breath is taken away, as when, in a dream, one falls and falls to immense depths and awakes with a sudden shock! Francis, Duke of Bretaigne, created the Order of Bretaigne: “This Order consisteth of five and twenty Knights of the _Ears of Corn_, so called to signifie that Princes should be careful to preserve Husbandry.” Favyn, however, finds a much more romantic origin for the name, and tells a long story of a dispute among the gods as to the thing most essential to “les Humains.” After lengthy argument, “de sorte que Jupiter toujours favorisant les Dames,” he declared victory to rest with Ceres, to whose verdict that of Minerva was joined (Minerva had pleaded the Ox), and so they both triumphed over the others.

In Amsterdam, a literary guild was once named after a herb, and was called the White Lavender Bloom. Herbs have not appeared on many signboards, but in 1638 the marigold was the sign of “Francis Eglisfield, a bookseller in St Paul’s churchyard,”[71] as it still is of Child’s Bank--and several signs of the “Rosemary Branch” have been known.

[71] “The History of Signboards.”

The Blessed Thistle was a much prized herb, and its cousin, the Spear Thistle, makes a game for Scotch children; it is sometimes called “Marian,” and when the flower-heads have turned to “blow-balls” the children puff away the down and call:--

“Marian, Marian, what’s the time of day? One o’clock, two o’clock, it’s time we were away.”

Dandelions are still commoner toys.

Grimmer associations are tied up with the bouquet presented to Judges at the Assizes, for originally this bouquet was a bunch of herbs, given to him to ward off the gaol-fever, that was cheerfully accepted as a matter of course for prisoners. Thornton, writing in 1810, says of Rue, that it is “supposed to be antipestilential” and hence our benches of judges are “regaled” with its unpleasing odour. Lupines are not properly to be included here, but Parkinson must be quoted as to a curious use of their seeds. In Plautus’ days, “they were used in Comedies instead of money, when in any scene thereof there was any show of payment.” One is glad he condescends to tell us this detail of ancient stage-plays. Among herbs used for nosegays he mentions Basil, Sweet Marjoram, Maudeline and Costmary, and evidently contemplates their being worn for ornament, and speaking of the prickly strawberry remarks it is “fit for a Gentlewoman to weare on her arme, etc., as a raritie instead of a flower.” Scents were more perpetually to be obtained by carrying a pomander, which was originally an orange stuffed with spices, and thought also to be good against infection. Cardinal Wolsey is described as carrying a “very fair orange, whereof the meat or substance was taken out and filled up again with part of a sponge whereon was vinegar, and other confection against the pestilential airs”; evidently some alexiphar-mick, which he “smelt unto” when going into a crowded chamber. Drayton says, in speaking of a well dedicated to St Winifred:--

The sacred Virgin’s well, her moss most sweet and rare Against infectious damps, for pomander to wear.

_Polyolbion._

The pomander developed into being a little scent-case, elaborately made. Mr Dillon describes a silver one of the sixteenth century which he saw in a collection. It was made to be hung by a chain from the girdle, and though “no larger than a plum, contains eight compartments inscribed as follows: ambra, moscheti (musk), viola, naransi (orange), garofalo (gillyflowers), rosa, cedro, jasmins.” Sweet-scented plants were reduced to “sweete pouthers,” and many were distilled into “sweete waters” and “sweete washing waters,” or helped to make “washing balls.” Orange-flower water is spoken of as “a great perfume for gloves, to wash them, or instead of Rose-water,” and less expensive distillations must have contented more economical housewives. Parkinson tells us of sweet marjoram being put into “sweete bags,” and costmary flowers and lavender tied up in small bundles for their “sweet sent and savour.” Regarding “sweet water” there is a delightful description in Ben Jonson’s Masque _Chloridia_, “Enter Rain, presented by five persons... their hair flagging as if they were wet, and in the hands, balls full of sweet water, which as they dance, sprinkle all the room.”

The following entry is made among “Queen Elizabeth’s Annual Expences”:--

Makers of hearb bowres and planters of trees Fee, £25 Stillers of Waters „ 40 John Kraunckwell and his wife, 1584.

_Peck’s Desiderata._

These offices must have been of considerable importance, for when money went much further than it does nowadays, an annual fee of £40 for “stilling waters” was a high one.

For never resting time leads summer on To hideous winter, and confounds him there; Sap check’d with frost, and lusty leaves quite gone, Beauty o’ershow’d, and bareness everywhere. Then, were not summer’s distillation left, A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass, Beauty’s effect with beauty were bereft, Nor it, nor no remembrance what it was. But flowers distill’d, though they with winter meet Lese but their show; their substance still lives sweet.

Sonnet V.--SHAKESPEARE.

Among some charming recipes Mrs Roundell gives a charming one for “Dorothea Roundell’s Sweet-Jar.” But, perhaps, even sweeter is the next recipe, called simply Sweet-Jar.

_Sweet-Jar._

“½ lb. bay salt, ¼ lb. salt-petre and common salt, all to be bruised and put on six baskets of rose-leaves, 24 bay leaves torn to bits, a handful of sweet myrtle leaves, 6 handfuls of lavender blossom, a handful of orange or syringa blossoms, the same of sweet violets, and the same of the red of clove carnations. After having well stirred every day for a week, add ½ oz. cloves, 4 oz. orris root, ½ oz. cinnamon, and two nutmegs all pounded; put on the roses, kept well covered up in a china jar and stirred sometimes.” The recipe of a delicious _Pot Pourri_ made in a country house in Devonshire has also been very kindly sent me:--

_Pot Pourri._

“Gather flowers in the morning when dry and lay them in the sun till the evening.

Roses. Orange flowers. Jasmine. Lavender. Thyme. } Marjoram.} Sage. } In smaller quantities. Bay. }

“Put them into an earthen wide jar, or hand basin, in layers. Add the following ingredients:--

6 lbs. vi. Bay Salt. ℥ iv. Yellow Sandal Wood. ℥ iv. Acorus Calamus Root. ℥ iv. Cassia Buds. ℥ iv. Orris Root. ℥ ii. Cinnamon. ℥ ii. Cloves. ℥ iv. Gum Benzoin. ℈ i. Storax Calamite. ℥ i. ℈ Otto of Rose. ʒ i. Musk. ℥ ss. Powdered Cardamine Seeds.

“Place the rose-leaves, etc., in layers in the jar. Sprinkle the Bay salt and other ingredients on each layer, press it tightly down and keep for two or three months before taking it out.”

The following herbs are those which are chiefly valued for their perfume or for their historical associations.

BERGAMOT (_Monarda fistulosa_).

It is extraordinary how little comment has been made on the handsome red flowers and fragrant leaves of Red Bergamot, or Bee-Balm--a name which Robinson gives it. Growing in masses, it makes a lovely bit of colour, and a very sweet border. Bergamot was a favourite flower in the posies that country people used to take to church, as Mrs Ewing observes in her story “Daddy Darwin’s Dove Cot.” The youthful heroine loses her posy of “Old Man and Marygolds” on the way to Sunday school, and is discovered looking for it by an equally youthful admirer. He at once offers to get her some more Old Man. “But Phœbe drew nearer. She stroked down her frock, and spoke mincingly but confidentially. ‘My mother says Daddy Darwin has red bergamot i’ his garden. We’ve none i’ ours. My mother always says there’s nothing like red bergamot to take to church. She says it’s a deal more refreshing than Old Men, and not so common.” A note gives the information that the particular kind of Bergamot meant here was the Twinflower _Monarda Didyma_. There are several varieties of Monarda.

The only superstition that I have ever heard in any way connected with the plant is, that in Dorsetshire it is thought unlucky, and that if it be kept in a house an illness will be the consequence.

COSTMARY (_Tanacetum Balsamita_).

Coole violets and orpine growing still, Enbathed balme and cheerfull galingale, Fresh costmarie and healthfull camomile.

_Muiopotmos._

Then balm and mint help to make up My chaplet and for trial Costmary that so likes the cup, And next it penny-royal.

_Muses’ Elysium._

Then hot muscado oil, with milder maudlin cast, Strong tansey, fennel cool, they prodigally waste.

_Polyolbion_, Song xv.

Costmary or Alecost, and Maudeline (_Balsamita Vulgaris_), have so close a semblance that they may be taken together. The German name for Costmary, _Frauen münze_, supports the natural idea that it was dedicated to the Virgin, but Dr Prior says that the Latin name used to be _Costus amarus_, not _Costus Marie_, and that it was really appropriated to St Mary Magdaleine, as its English name Maudeline declares. Both plants were much used to make “sweete washing water; the flowers are tyed up with small bundles of lavender toppes; these they put in the middle of them, to lye upon the toppes of beds, presses, etc., for the sweet sent and savour it casteth.”[72] They were also used for strewing. In France Costmary is sometimes used in salads, and it was formerly put into beer and negus; “hence the name _Alecost_.”

[72] Parkinson.

GERMANDER (_Teucrium Chamœdrys_).

Clear hysop and therewith the comfortable thyme, Germander with the rest, each thing then in her prime.

_Polyolbion_, Song xv.

Germander, marjoram and thyme, Which used are for strewing, With hisop as an herb most prime, Herein my wreath bestowing.

_Muses’ Elysium._

Germander was grown as a border to garden “knots,” “though being more used as a strewing herbe for the house than for any other use.”[73] Culpepper says it is “a most prevalent herb of Mercury, and strengthens the brain and apprehension exceedingly;” and Tusser includes it amongst his “strewing herbs”; from which statements it may be gathered that the scent was pungent but agreeable. It is more often mentioned by old herbalists as “bordering knots” than in any other capacity, in spite of Parkinson’s remark, and now is very seldom seen at all. It may, very rarely, be found growing wild. Harrison, when he is declaiming against the over-praising of foreigners, says: “Our common Germander, or thistle benet, is found and knowne to bee so wholesome and of so great power in medicine as any other hearbe,” but it is not clear whether he really means Germander, or is not rather thinking of _Carduus Benedictus_.

[73] Parkinson.

GILLIFLOWER (_Dianthus Caryophyllus_).

Jeliflowers is for gentlenesse, Which in me shall remaine, Hoping that no sedition shal Depart our hearts in twaine. As soon the sun shall loose his course, The moone against her kinde, Shall have no light if that I do Once put you from my minde.

CLEMENT ROBINSON.

Come, and I will sing you-- “What will you sing me?” I will sing you Four, O, What is your Four, O? Four it is the Dilly Hour, when blooms the gilly-flower.

_Dilly Song._--Songs of the West.

I’ll weave my love a garland, It shall be dressed so fine, I’ll set it round with roses, With lilies, pinks and thyme.

_The Loyal Lover._

There stood a gardener at the gate And in each hand a flower, O pretty maid, come in, he said, And view my beauteous bower.

The lily it shall be thy smock, The jonquil shoe thy feet, Thy gown shall be the ten-week-stock, To make thee fair and sweet.

The gilly-flower shall deck thy head Thy way with herbs, I’ll strew, Thy stockings shall be marigold Thy gloves the vi’let blue.

_Dead Maid’s Land._

Gillyflowers are, of course, now excluded from the herb-border, but once housewives infused them in vinegar to make it aromatic, and candied them for conserves, and numbered them among their herbs, though that is not the reason that they are mentioned here. They have their place, because the general ideas about them are too pretty to leave out. First, they were the token of gentleness, as Robinson’s lover asserts most touchingly, and Drayton confirms in his line,

The July-flower declares his gentleness.

Then Gillyflowers (says Folkard) were represented in some old songs to be one of the flowers that grow in Paradise. He quotes from a ballad called “Dead Men’s Songs.” This verse:

The fields about the city faire Were all with Roses set, Gillyflowers and Carnations faire Which canker could not fret.

_Ancient Songs._--RITSON.

There have been great discussions as to what flower was the original “Gillyflower” spoken of by early writers. Folkard says it was “apparently a kind of pet-name to all manner of plants.” Parkinson seems to have called Carnations, Clove-Gillyflowers, and Stocks, the Stock-Gillyflowers, and Wall-flowers, Wall-Gillyflowers. It is generally thought that the earlier writers called the Dianthus by this name, and later ones, the _Cheiranthus cheiri_, or _Matthiola_. Some of the names for them show how sadly imagination has waned since the seventeenth century. Think of a new flower being called “Ruffling Robin” or “The lustie Gallant,” or “Master Tuggie’s Princess,” or “Mister Bradshaw, his dainty Lady.” Even “the Sad Pageant” has romance about it, but we can match that by a name for _Hesperides_ which, I believe, still survives, “The Melancholy Gentleman.” Culpepper calls Gillyflowers, “gallant, fine and temperate,” but says, “It is vain to describe a herb so well known.” So there we will leave them.

LAVENDER (_Lavandula vera_).

Here’s flowers for you, Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram, The marigold that goes to bed wi’ the sun, And with him rises weeping.

_Winter’s Tale_, iv. 3.

The wholesome saulge and lavender still gray, Ranke smelling Rue, and cummin good for eyes.

_Muiopotmos._

Opening upon level plots Of crowned lilies standing near Purple spiked lavender.

_Ode to Memory._--TENNYSON.

Lavender is for lovers true, Which evermore be faine, Desiring always for to have Some pleasure for their paine.

C. ROBINSON.

_Piscator._ “I’ll now lead you to an honest ale-house; where we shall find a cleanly room, lavender in the windows and twenty ballads stuck about the wall.”

_The Complete Angler._

Lavender is one of the few herbs that has always been in great repute and allusions to it are legion. From the custom of laying it among linen, or other carefully stored goods, a proverb has arisen--Timbs quotes from Earle’s _Microcosm_: “He takes on against the Pope without mercy and has a jest still _in Lavender_ for Bellarmine.” Walton’s _Coridon_ mentions that “the sheets” smell of lavender in a literal sense, and Parkinson says that it is much put among “apparell.” Oil of Lavender is still to be found in the British Pharmacopœia, and some of the old writers utter serious warnings against “divers rash and overbold Apothecaries and other foolish women,” who gave indiscriminately the distilled water, or composition that is made of distilled wine in which flower seeds have been steeped. Turner suggests using it in a curious manner. “I judge that the flowers of Lavander quilted in a cappe and dayly worne are good for all diseases of the head that come of a cold cause and that they comfort the braine very well.” Dr Fernie says it is of real use in a case of nervous headache. Lavender used to be called Lavender Spike or Spike alone, and French Lavender (_L. Stæchas_) Stickadove or Cassidony, sometimes turned by country people into Cast-me-down. _La petite Corbeille_ tells us that the juice of Lavender is a specific in cases of loss of speech and adds drily, “une telle propriété suffirait pour rendre cette plante à jamais precieuse.” In Spain and Portugal it is used to strew churches and it is burned in bonfires on St John’s Day, the day when all evil spirits are abroad. In some countries it must still possess wonderful qualities! Tuscan peasants believe that it will prevent the Evil Eye from hurting children.

The pretty delicately-scented spikes of White Lavender are less well known than they should be, but like many other herbs they received more admiration in former days as has been already said, at the close of the sixteenth century, a literary guild was called after it. In the Parliamentary Survey (November 1649) of the Manor of Wimbledon, “Late parcel of the possessions of Henrietta Maria, the relict and late Queen of Charles Stuart, late King of England”--an exact inventory is made of the house and grounds (in which forty-four perches of land, called the Hartichoke Garden is named), and among other things, “very great and large borders of Rosemary, Rue and White Lavender and great varietie of excellent herbs” are noticed.

LAVENDER COTTON (_Santolina_).

Lavender Cotton is a little grey plant with “very finely cut leaves, clustered buttons of a golden colour and of a sweet smell and is often used in garlands and in decking up of gardens and houses.” The French called it _Petit Cyprez_ and _Guarde Robe_, from which it may be inferred that it was one of the herbs laid in chests among furs and robes. Tusser counts it among his “strewing herbes,” and it is now chiefly used as an edging to beds or borders.

MEADOW-SWEET (_Spiræa Ulmaria_).

Bring, too, some branches forth of Daphne’s hair, And gladdest myrtle for the posts to wear, With spikenard weav’d and marjorams between And starr’d with yellow-golds and meadows-queen.

_Pan’s Anniversary._--BEN JONSON.

Amongst these strewing herbs, some others wild that grow, As burnet, all abroad, and meadow-wort they throw.

_Polyolbion_, Song xv.

_She._ The glow-room lights, as day is failing Dew is falling over the field. _He._ The meadow-sweet its scent is exhaling, Honeysuckles their fragrance yield. _Together._ Then why should we be all the day toiling? Lads and lasses, along with me! _She._ There’s Jack o’ Lantern lustily dancing, In the marsh with flickering flame. _He._ And Daddy-long-legs, spinning and prancing, Moth and midge are doing the same. _Chorus._ Then why should we, etc.

S. BARING-GOULD.

Where peep the gaping speckled cuckoo-flowers The meadow-sweet flaunts high its showy wreath And sweet the quaking grasses hide beneath.

_Summer._--CLARE.

Shall I strew on thee rose or rue or laurel? Or quiet sea flower moulded by the sea, Or simples and growth of meadow-sweet or sorrel.

_Ave Atque Vale._--SWINBURNE.

Pale Iris growing where the streams wind slowly Round the smooth shoulders of untrodden hills, White meadow-sweet and yellow daffodils.

_Phœcia._--N. HOPPER.

Queen of the Meadow and Bridewort are two of this flower’s most appropriate names and a very pretty one is that which Gerarde tells us the Dutch give it, _Reinette_. The Herbalists do not say much about the “Little Queen,” but what they do say, is in the highest degree complimentary. Gerarde decides: “The leaves and flowers excel all other strong herbes for to deck up houses, to strew in chambers, hall and banquetting houses in the summer time; for the smell thereof makes the heart merrie, delighteth the senses, neither doth it cause headache” as some other sweet smelling herbes do. Parkinson, who says it “has a pretty, sharp sent and taste,” praises it for the same purpose and adds the interesting bit of gossip that “Queen _Elizabeth_ of famous memory, did more desire it than any other sweet herbe to strew her chambers withal. A leafe or two hereof layd in a cup of wine, will give as quick and fine a rellish therto as Burnet will,” he finishes practically. Turner says that women, in the spring-time, “put it into the potages and mooses.” I have known it used medicinally by a Herbalist, and can strongly recommend it as an ingredient for _pôt pourri_. The scent is so sweet and clinging that it is surprising that meadow-sweet is not oftener in request when dried and scented flowers are wanted. The Icelander says that if taken on St John’s Day and thrown into water, it will help to reveal a thief, for if the culprit be a man, it will sink, if a woman, it will float.

ROSEMARY (_Rosmarinus officinalis_).

Here’s Rosemary for you, that’s for remembrance.--

_Hamlet_, iv. 5.

Rosemary’s for remembrance, Between us day and night, Wishing that I may always have You present in my sight.

C. ROBINSON.

The double daisy, thrift, the button batchelor, Sweet William, sops-in-wine, the campion; and to these Some lavender they put, with rosemary and bays, Sweet marjoram, with her like sweet basil rare for smell, With many a flower, whose name were now too long to tell.

_Polyolbion_, Song xv.

Oh, thou great shepheard, Lobbin, how great is thy griefe? Where bene the nosegays that she dight for thee? The coloured chaplets wrought with a chiefe, The knotted rush-rings and gilt rosmarie?

_November, Shepheard’s Calender._--SPENSER.

Rosemary has always been of more importance than any other herb, and more than most of them put together. It has been employed at weddings and funerals, for decking the church and for garnishing the banquet hall, in stage-plays, and in “swelling discontent,” of a too great reality; as incense in religious ceremonies, and in spells against magic; “in sickness and in health”; eminently as a symbol, and yet for very practical uses. It is quite an afterthought to regard it as a plant. In “Popular Antiquities,” Brand gives such an admirable account of it that one would like to quote in full, but must bear in mind the warning, quoted from “Eachard’s _Observations_,” in those pages: “I cannot forget him, who having at some time or other been suddenly cur’d of a little head-ache with a Rosemary posset, would scarce drink out of anything but Rosemary cans, cut his meat with a Rosemary knife.... Nay, sir, he was so strangely taken up with the excellencies of Rosemary, that he would needs have the Bible cleared of all other herbs and only Rosemary to be inserted.” At weddings it was often gilded or dipped in scented waters, or tied “about with silken ribbands of all colours.” Sometimes for want of it Broom was used. Mr Friend quotes an account of a sixteenth century “rustic bridal” at which “every wight with hiz blu buckeram bridelace upon a branch of green broom--because Rosemary iz skant thear--tyed on hiz leaft arm.” A wedding sermon by Robert Hacket (1607) is also quoted: “Rosemary... which by name, nature, and continued use, man challengeth as properly belonging to himselfe. It overtoppeth all the flowers in the garden, boasting man’s rule. Another property of the Rosemary is, it affecteth the hart. Let this Rosmarinus, this flower of men, ensigne of your wisdom, love and loyaltie, be carried not only in your hands, but in your heads and harts.” Ben Jonson says it was the custom for bridesmaids to present the bridegroom with “a bunch of Rosemary, bound with ribands,” on his first appearance on his wedding morn. Together with an orange stuck with cloves, it often served as a little New Year’s gift; and the same author mentions this in his _Christmas Masque_. The masque opens by showing half the players unready, and clamouring for missing properties; and _Gambol_, one of them, says, of _New Year’s Gift_: “He has an orange and Rosemary, but not a clove to stick in it.” A little later, _New Year’s Gift_ enters, “in a blue coat, serving-man-like, with an orange and a sprig of Rosemary, gilt, on his head.” _Wassel_ comes too, “like a neat sempster and songster, her page bearing a brown bowl drest with ribands and Rosemary before her.”

For less festive occasions it had other meanings: “As for Rosmarine, I lett it runne all over my garden walls, not onlie because my bees love it, but because it is the herb sacred to remembrance, and therefore to friendship; whence a sprig of it hath a dumb language that maketh it the chosen emblem of our funeral wakes and in our buriall grounds.” Sir Thomas More thought this, but others beside him “lett Rosmarine run all over garden walls,” though perhaps they had less sentiment about it; Hentzner (_Travels_) (1598) says that it was a custom “exceedingly common in England.” At Hampton Court, Rosemary was “so planted and nailed to the walls as to cover them entirely.”[74] The bushes were sometimes set “by women for their pleasure,[75] to grow in sundry proportions, as in the fashion of a cart, a peacock or such things as they fancy,” or the branches were twined amongst others to make an arbour. Brown refers to this:--

Within an arbour, shadow’d by a vine Mix’d with Rosemary and Eglantine.

_Br. Pastorals_, book i.

Rosemary was one of the chief funeral herbs. Herrick says:--

Grow it for two ends, it matters not at all, Be’t for my bridall or my buriall.

Sprigs of it were distributed to the mourners before they left the house, which they carried to the churchyard and threw on the coffin when it had been lowered into the grave. In _Romeo and Juliet_ Friar Laurence says:--

Dry up your tears and stick your Rosemary On this fair corse

Brand quotes passages from Gay, Dekker, Cartwright, Shirley, Misson, Coles, “The British Apollo” and “The Wit’s Interpreter,” which connect Rosemary with burials; and it was also planted on graves.

Coles says it was used with other evergreens to decorate churches at Christmas-time, and Folkard that, “In place of more costly incense, the ancients often employed Rosemary in their religious ceremonies. An old French name for it was _Incensier_. It was conspicuous on a very remarkable occasion in history. In “A Perfect Journall, etc., of that memorable Parliament begun at Westminster, Nov. 3, 1640,” is the following passage, “Nov. 28. That afternoon Master Prin and Master Burton came in to London, being met and accompanied with many thousands of horse and foot, and rode with rosemary and bayes in their hands and hats; which is generally esteemed the greatest affront that ever was given to the courts of justice in England.” The “affront” lay in the general rejoicing that attended this overthrowing of the sentence passed by the Star Chamber, and the causes which led to this enthusiasm were these: “Some years before,” Prynne, Burton, and Bastwick had written against the Government and the Bishops, and for this offence had been sentenced to pay a fine of £5000 each, to have their ears cut off, to stand in the pillory and to be imprisoned for life. “All of which,” says Clarendon, “was executed with rigour and severity enough.” “After being first imprisoned in England, Mr Pyrnne was sent to a castle in the island of Jersey, Dr Bastwick to Scilly, and Mr Burton to Guernsey.” Bastwick’s wife seized the first moment that the Commons were assembled (in Nov. 1640) to present a petition, with the result that on the fourth day after Parliament met, orders for their release were sent to the Governors of the respective castles. Clarendon, who, of course, had no sympathy, but much dislike for them, admits: “When they came near London, multitudes of people of several conditions, some on horseback, others on foot, met them some miles from the town; very many having been a day’s journey; and they were brought about two of the clocke in the afternoon in at Charing Cross, and carried into the city by above ten thousand persons with boughs and flowers in their hands, the common people strewing flowers and herbs in the ways as they passed, making great noise and expressions of joy for their deliverance and return; and in those acclamations, mingling loud and virulent exclamations against the bishops, “who had so cruelly persecuted such godly men.” An appendix,[76] devoted to this incident, further describes their entry, “The two branded persons riding first, side by side, with branches of rosemary in their hands, and two or three hundred horse closely following them, and multitudes of foot on either side of them, walking by them, every man on horseback or on foot having bays or rosemary in their hats or hands, and the people on either side of the street strewing the way as they passed with herbs, and such other greens as the season afforded, and expressing great joy for their return.” This splendid reception must have revealed very plainly to the Government the mind and temper of the people. Nowadays the exuberance of the mob in greeting popular heroes is much what it seems to have been then, only they do not generally express it in such a pretty way as strewing rosemary and bays.

Culpepper writes that Rosemary was used “not only for physical but civil purposes,” and among other uses, was placed in the dock of courts of justice. The reason for this was that among its many reputed medicinal virtues, “it was accounted singular good to expel the contagion of the pestilence from which poor prisoners too often suffered. It was also especially good to comfort the hearte and to helpe a weake memory,” and was generally highly thought of. Rosemary is still retained in the pharmacopœia and is popularly much valued as a stimulant to making hair grow. _L’eau de la reine d’Hongrie_, rosemary tops in proof spirit, was once famous as a restorative and is mentioned in Perrault’s fairy story of “The Sleeping Beauty.” After the princess pricks her hand with the spindle and falls into the fatal sleep, among the means taken to bring back consciousness, “en lui frotte les tempes avec de l’eau de la reine d’Hongrie; mais rien ne lui faisait revenir.” Rosemary is also an ingredient in _Eau de Cologne_. Its efficacy in magic is mentioned in another chapter. In the countries where it grows to a “very great height”[77] and the stem is “cloven out into thin boards, it hath served to make lutes, or such like instruments, and here with us carpenter’s rules, and to divers other purposes.”

[74] Hentzner’s “Travels.”

[75] Barnaby Googe’s “Husbandry” (1578).

[76] “History of the Rebellion.”

[77] Parkinson.

RUE (_Ruta graveolens_).

Reverend sirs, For you there’s Rosemary and Rue; these keep Seeming and savour all the winter long, Grace and remembrance to you both.

_Winter’s Tale_, iv. 3.

Here did she fall a tear; here, in this place, I’ll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace; Rue, even for ruth, here shortly shall be seen, In the remembrance of a weeping queen.

_Richard II._, iii. 4.

There’s rue for you, and here’s some for me; we may call it herb of grace o’Sundays O! you may wear your rue with a difference.

_Hamlet_, iv. 5.

Michael from Adam’s eyes the film ’emoved ... then purged with euphrasy and rue, The visual nerve; for he had much to see.

_Paradise Lost_, book xi.

He who sows hatred, shall gather rue.

_Danish Proverb._

“Ruth was the English name for sorrow and remorse, and _to rue_ was to be sorry for anything or to have pity, ... and so it was a natural thing to say that a plant which was so bitter and had always borne the name _Rue_ or _Ruth_ must be connected with repentance. It was therefore the Herb of Repentance, and this was soon transformed into the Herb of Grace.”[78] Canon Ellacombe’s explanation makes clear why rue was often alluded to symbolically, especially by Shakespeare, to whom the thought of repentance leading to grace seems to have been an accustomed one. It has been often stated the actual origin of the name was the fact that rue was used to make “the _aspergillum_, or holy-water brush, in the ceremony known as the _asperges_, which usually precedes the Sunday celebration of High Mass; but for this supposition there is no ground.”[79] Rue was supposed to be a powerful defence against witches, and was used in many spells, and Mr Friend describes a “magic wreath” in which it is used by girls for divination. The wreath is made up of Rue, Willow and Crane’s-bill. “Walking backwards to a tree they throw the wreath over their heads, until it catches on the branches and is held fast. Each time they fail to fix the wreath means another year of single blessedness.” In the Tyrol, a bunch of Rue, Broom, Maidenhair, Agrimony and Ground Ivy will enable the wearer to see witches. Lupton adds a tribute to its powers of magic: “That[80] Pigeons be not hunted nor killed of Cats at the windowes, or at every passage and at every Pigeon’s hole, hang or put little Branches of Rew, for Rew hath a marvellous strength against wilde Beasts. As Didymus doth say.” Milton refers to a belief, very widely spread, that Rue was specially good for the eyes, when he says:

Michael ... purged with Euphrasie and Rue, The visual nerve.

that Adam’s eyes should be made clear. (Euphrasie is Eyebright.) Rue was also an antidote to poison, and preserved people from contagion, particularly that of the plague, and was thought to be of great virtue for many disorders. “Some doe rippe up a beade-rowle of the vertues of Rue, as Macer the poet and others” who apparently declared it to be good for almost every ill. Mr Britten remarks: “It was long, and probably still is the custom to strew the dock of the Central Criminal Court at the Old Bailey with Rue. It arose in 1750, when the contagious disease known as jail fever, raged in Newgate to a great extent. It may be remembered that during the trial of the Mannings (1849), the unhappy woman, after one of the speeches of the opposing counsel, gathered up some of the sprigs of Rue which lay before her, and threw them at his head.”

Turner recommends Rue “made hott in the pyll of a pomegranate” for the “ake of the eares.”

[78] “Plant-lore and Garden-craft of Shakespeare,” Canon Ellacombe.

[79] Britten.

[80] “Book of Notable Things” (1575).

SOUTHERNWOOD (_Artemisa Abrotanum_).

Lavender and Sweet Marjoram march away, Sothernwood and Angelica don’t stay, Plantain, the Thistle, which they blessed call, And useful Wormwood, in their order fall.

_Of Plants_, book i.--COWLEY.

I’ll give to him, Who gathers me, more sweetness than he’d dream Without me--more than any lily could. I, that am flowerless, being Southernwood.

Shall I give you honesty, Or lad’s love to wear? Or a wreath less fair to see, Juniper and Rosemary? Flaxenhair?

Rosemary, lest you forget, What was lief and fair, Lad’s love, sweet thro’ fear and fret, Lad’s love, green and living yet, Flaxenhair.

_Finnish Bride Song._--N. HOPPER.

Southernwood has many _sobriquets_, among which are Lads or Boy’s Love, Old Man, and Maiden’s Ruin; the last a corruption of _Armoise du Rône_, Mr Friend says. The French have contracted the same title to _Auronne_ and also call the plant _Bois de St Jean_ and _Citronelle_. Dutch people used to call it _Averonne_ (another form of the French contraction) and the Germans, _Stab-wurtz_. The name _Bois de St Jean_ is given it, because in some parts of France it is one of the plants dedicated to St John the Baptist, and the German title came from their faith in it as a “singular wound-hearb.” Turner considered that the fumes of it being burned, would drive away serpents, and credits it with many valuable properties, chiefly medicinal; and Culpepper calls it “a gallant, mercurial plant, worthy of more esteem than it hath.” It has also been supposed to have great virtue to prevent the hair falling out. In later days Hogg has declared it to have an agreeable, exhilarating smell,” and to be “eminently diaphoretic.” But Thornton, who loves to shatter all favourite herbal notions, remarks that these good results are chiefly because it “operates on the mind of the patient,” and that as a fomentation it is hardly more useful “than cloths wrung out of hot water.” So transitory is good report!

WOOD-RUFF (_Asperula Odorata_).

The threstlecoc him threteth oo A way is huere wynter wo When woodrove springeth.

_Springtide_, 1300.

All that we say, and all we leave unsaid Be buried with her.... Pansies for thoughts, and wood-ruff white as she, And, for remembrance, quiet rosemary.

_Elegy._--HOPPER.

The wood-ruff or wood-rowell has its leaves “set about like a star, or the rowell of a spurre,” whereby it gains its name. English people also called it Wood-rose and Sweet-Grass; the French, _Hépatique étoilée_, and the Germans, _Waldmeister_ and _Herzfreude_, and they steep it in “_Bohle_,” a kind of “cup” made of light wine.

In England it used to be “made up into garlands or bundles and hanged up in houses in the heate of summer, doth very wel attemper the aire, coole and make fresh the place, to the delight and comfort of such as are therein.”[81] Wood-ruff was employed to decorate churches, and churchwardens’ accounts still exist (at St Mary-atte-Hill, London) including wood-ruff garlands and lavender in the expenses incurred in keeping St Barnabas’ Day. Johnston says[82]: “The dried leaves are put among linen for their sweet smell, and children put a whorl between the leaves of their books with a like purpose, and many people like to have one neatly dried laid in the case of their watch.” Sensible, as well as pretty customs! It was one of the herbs recommended to “make the hart merrye,” and Tusser puts it among his “stilling herbs,” thus: “Wood-roffe, for sweet waters and cakes.” Country people used to lay it a little bruised to a cut, and its odour of new made hay must have made it a pleasanter remedy than many that they used.

[81] Gerarde.

[82] “Botany of the Eastern Borders” (1853).

WORMWOOD (_Artemisia Absinthium_).

And none a greater Stoick is, than I; The _Stoa’s_ Pillars on my stalk rely; Let others please, to profit is my pleasure. The love I slowly gain’s a lasting treasure.

_Of Plants_, book i.--COWLEY.

What savour is better, if physic be true, In places infected than wormwood and rue It is as a comfort for heart and the brain, And therefore to have it, it is not in vain.

_July’s Husbandry._--TUSSER.

Here is my moly of much fame In magic often used; Mugwort and nightshade for the same, But not by me abused

_Muses’ Elysium._--DRAYTON.

Traditions cluster round _Artemisia Absinthium_ and A. Vulgaris, Mugwort. Canon Ellacombe says that the species are called after Diana, as she was supposed to “find them and delivered their powers and leechdom to Chiron the Centaur... who named these worts from the name of Diana, Artemis;” and he thinks therefore that “Dian’s bud,” spoken of in the _Midsummer Night’s Dream_ was one of them. The plant was of some importance among the Mexicans, and when they kept the festival of Huixtocihuatl, the Goddess of Salt, they began with a great dance of women, who were joined to one another by strings of different flowers, and who wore on their heads garlands of wormwood. This dance continued all night, and on the following morning the dance of the priests began. (_Nineteenth Century_, Sept. 1879.)

According to the ancients, Wormwood counteracts the effects of poisoning by toadstools, hemlock, and the biting of the shrew mouse or sea-dragon; while Mugwort preserves the wayfarer from fatigue, sun-stroke, wild beasts, the Evil Eye in man, and also from evil spirits! Lupton says that it is “commonly affirmed that, on Midsummer Eve, there is found at the root of Mugwort a coal which keeps safe from the plague, carbuncle, lightning, and the quartan ague, them that bear the same about them; and Mizaldus, the writer hereof, saith that it is to be found the same day under the Plantain, which is especially and chiefly to be found at noon.”[83] Later writers have unkindly insisted that these wonderful “coals” were no more nor less than old dead roots! Gerarde and Parkinson are both dignified and contemptuous over these stories. Gerarde says, “Many other fantasticall devices invented by poets are to be seen in the works of ancient writers. I do of purpose omit them, as things unworthy of my recording or your reviewing.” Parkinson is still more severe on “idle superstitions and irreligious relations,” and abuses this special “idle conceit,” which Gerarde has not deigned to repeat. It is told even by “Bauhinus, who glorieth to be an eye-witnesse of this foppery. But oh! the weake and fraile nature of man! Which I cannot but lament.” Turner devotes a great deal of space to the disputes of writers as to the identity of the “true Ponticke Wormwood,” and says that “he himselfe is certainly accurate on the point, having been taught it by Gerhardas de Wyck, at that tyme the Emperour’s secretary” at Cologne. “This noble Clerk was afterwards sent by Charles the fyft, Embassator to the great Turke.”

It is from wormwood that _Absinthe_ is made; and it has been used instead of hops in making beer. It used to be laid among stuffs and furs to keep away moths and insects--by its bitterness, ordinary folk supposed, but Culpepper knew better, and gives an astrological reason: “I was once in the tower and viewed the wardrobe and there was a great many fine cloaths (I can give them no other title, for I was never either linen or woolen draper), yet as brave as they looked, my opinion was that the moths might consume them. Moths are under the dominion of Mars; this herb Wormwood (also an herb of Mars) being laid among cloaths will make a moth scorn to meddle with the cloaths as much as a lion scorns to meddle with a mouse, or an eagle with a fly.” One would not expect to find a moth a “martial creature,” but evidently he _is_, and this explanation of the working of the law of “sympathies,” not only tells us so, but kindly shows us a sure means of safeguarding our goods from an ubiquitous enemy.

Mugwort has many reputed medical virtues, and Dr Thornton who usually crushes any pretension to such claims, says it “merits the attention of English physicians, in regard to gout.” It is with this plant that the Japanese prepare the _Moxa_ that they use as a cautery to a great extent.

Mugwort is said to be a good food for poultry and turkeys. De Gubernatis tells a Russian legend about this plant which they call _Bech_. Once the Evil One offended his brother, the Cossack Sabba, who seized and bound him, and said he should not be released till he had done him some great service. Presently, some Poles came close by and made a feast, and were happy, leaving their horses to graze. The Cossack Sabba coveted the horses and promised the Evil One his liberty if he could manage to get them. The Evil One then sent other demons to the field and caused Mugwort to spring up, whereupon the horses trotted away, and as they did so, the Mugwort moaned “_bech, bech_.” And now when a horse treads on it, the plant remembers the Pole’s horses and still moans “_bech, bech!_” for which reason, in the Ukraine it is still called by that name. It is left untold whether the flight of the horses was due to the magical nature of the plants, or to their usual bitterness. The latter is likely enough, as according to Dr Thornton, horses and goats are not fond of it, and cows and swine refuse it.

Other well-known varieties of Wormwood are _H. pontica_, Roman wormwood whose leaves are less bitter; and _A. Maritima_, sea-wormwood, and _A. Santonica_, Tartarian wormwood.

[83] “Notable Things.”

BAY (_Laurus Nobilis_).

Then in my lavender I’ll lay, Muscado put among it, And here and there a leaf of bay, Which still shall run along it.

_Muses’ Elysium._

This done, we’ll draw lots who shall buy And gild the bays and rosemary.

_Hesperides._--HERRICK.

Down with the rosemary and bays, Down with the mistletoe, Instead of holly, now upraise, The greener box, for show.

_Ceremonies for Candlemas Eve._--HERRICK.

A Bay-tree invites criticism, as it is certainly not a “herb,” but it is so often classed with some of them, especially with rosemary (to whom it seems to have been a sort of twin) that a brief extract from its interesting history must be made. Herrick’s verses show that both for weddings and decorations, rosemary and bays were paired together--bays being also gilded at weddings--and Brand quotes some lines from the “Wit’s Interpreter” to show that alike at funerals, they were fellows:--

Shrouded she is from top to toe, With Lillies which all o’er her grow, Instead of bays and rosemary.

And Coles says, “Cypresse garlands are of great account at funeralls amongst the gentiler sort, but rosemary and bayes are used by the commons both at funeralls and weddings.” Parkinson’s testimony is eloquent: “It serveth to adorne the house of God, as well as of man; to procure warmth, comfort, and strength to the limmes of men and women by bathings and anoyntings out, and by drinks, etc., inward: to season the vessels wherein are preserved our meates, as well as our drinkes; to crown or encircle as with a garland the heads of the living, and to sticke and decke forth the bodies of the dead; so that from the cradle to the grave we have still use of, we have still need of it.” No one could give higher praise to its natural virtues, but in other countries, it was endowed with supernatural ones. “Neyther falling sickness, neyther devyll, wyll infest or hurt one in that place where a bay-tree is. The Romans call it the Plant of the Good Angell.”[84] On the contrary, the withering of bay-trees was a very ill omen, and a portent of death. Canon Ellacombe says this superstition was imported from Italy, but it seems to have taken root in England. Shakespeare mentions it in _Richard II._, as if it were no new idea; and Evelyn tells us, as if he were adding a fresh fact to a store of common knowledge, that in 1629, at Padua, before a great pestilence broke out, almost all the Bay-trees about that famous University grew sick and perished.

Sir Thomas Browne deals with another belief: “That bays will protect from the mischief of lightning and thunder is a quality ascribed thereto, common with the fig-tree, eagle and skin of a seal. Against so famous a quality Vicomeratus produceth experiment of a bay-tree blasted in Italy. And, therefore, although Tiberius for this intent did wear laurel upon his temples, yet did Augustus take a more probable course, who fled under arches and hollow vaults for protection.” Sir Thomas is very logical.

It is not always clear when Laurel and when Bay is intended, because our Bay-tree was often called Laurel in Elizabethan days. For instance:--

And when from Daphne’s tree he plucks more Baies, His shepherd’s pipe may chant more heavenly lays.

Intro. to _Br. Pastorals_ by CHRISTOPHER BROOKE.

If one is airily told one may pluck _bays_ from a _laurel_ bush, it is impossible to know which is really meant, and a certain confusion between the two is inevitable. William Browne, who took, or pretended to take, seriously the view that bays could not be hurt by thunder, brings forward an ingenious theory to account for it. It is that “being the materials of poets ghirlands, it is supposed not subject to any of Jupiter’s thunderbolts, as other trees are.

“Where Bayes still grow (by thunder not struck down), The victor’s garland and the poet’s crown.”

Besides being a prophet of evil, the Bay-tree was also a token of joy and triumph. “In Rome, they use it to trim up their _Churches_ and _Monasteries_ on Solemn _Festivals_ ... as also on occasion of Signal _Victories_ and other joyful Tidings; and these _Garlands_ made up with _Hobby-Horse Tinsel_, make a glittering show and rattling Noise when the _Air_ moves them”; also, “With the _Leaves_ of _Laurel_ they made up their _Despatches_ and Letters _Laurus involutoe_, wrapt in Bay-leaves, which they sent the Senate from the victorious General.” Imagine a “victorious General” now sitting down to label despatches with leaves, signifying triumph! “Ere Reuter yet had found his range,” how much better the art of becoming ceremonial was understood.

Finally, the Bay was regarded as a panacea for all ailments, and, therefore, the statue of Æsculapius was crowned with its leaves.

I append to this book a copy of the List of Herbs that Tusser gives in “March’s Abstract.” It will be seen that he has carefully classified them according to their suitability for stilling, strewing, bough-pots or kitchen.

[84] “Book of Notable Things,” C. Lupton.