Chapter 4

COCKLE.

(1) _Biron._

Allons! allons! sowed Cockle reap'd no Corn.

_Love's Labour's Lost_, act iv, sc. 3 (383).

(2) _Coriolanus._

We nourish 'gainst our senate The Cockle of rebellion, insolence, sedition, Which we ourselves have plough'd for, sow'd, and scatter'd, By mingling them with us.

_Coriolanus_, act iii, sc. 1 (69).

In Shakespeare's time the word "Cockle" was becoming restricted to the Corn-cockle (_Lychnis githago_), but both in his time, and certainly in that of the writers before him, it was used generally for any noxious weed that grew in corn-fields, and was usually connected with the Darnel and Tares.[57:1] So Gower--

"To sowe Cockel with the Corn So that the tilthe is nigh forlorn, Which Crist sew first his owne hond-- Now stant the Cockel in the lond Where stood whilom the gode greine, For the prelats now, as men sain, For slouthen that they shoulden tille."

_Confessio Amantis_, lib. quintus (2-190, Paulli).

Latimer has exactly the same idea: "Oh, that our prelates would bee as diligent to sowe the corne of goode doctrine as Sathan is to sow Cockel and Darnel." . . . "There was never such a preacher in England as he (the devil) is. Who is able to tel his dylygent preaching? which every daye and every houre laboreth to sowe Cockel and Darnel" (Latimer's Fourth Sermon). And to the same effect Spenser--

"And thus of all my harvest-hope I have Nought reaped but a weedie crop of care, Which when I thought have thresht in swelling sheave, Cockle for corn, and chaff for barley bare."

The Cockle or Campion is said to do mischief among the Wheat, not only, as the Poppy and other weeds, by occupying room meant for the better plant, but because the seed gets mixed with the corn, and then "what hurt it doth among corne, the spoyle unto bread, as well in colour, taste, and unwholsomness is better known than desired." So says Gerard, but I do not know how far modern experience confirms him. It is a pity the plant has so bad a character, for it is a very handsome weed, with a fine blue flower, and the seeds are very curious objects under the microscope, being described as exactly like a hedgehog rolled up.[58:1]

FOOTNOTES:

[57:1] "Cokylle--quædam aborigo, zazannia."--_Catholicon Anglicum._

[58:1] In Dorsetshire the Cockle is the bur of the Burdock. Barnes' Glossary of Dorset.

COLOQUINTIDA.

_Iago._

The food that to him now is as luscious as Locusts, shall be to him shortly as bitter as Coloquintida.

_Othello_, act i, sc. 3 (354).

The Coloquintida, or Colocynth, is the dried fleshy part of the fruit of the Cucumis or Citrullus colocynthis. As a drug it was imported in Shakespeare's time and long before, but he may also have known the plant. Gerard seems to have grown it, though from his describing it as a native of the sandy shores of the Mediterranean, he perhaps confused it with the Squirting Cucumber (_Momordica elaterium_). It is a native of Turkey, but has been found also in Japan. It is also found in the East, and we read of it in the history of Elisha: "One went out into the field to gather herbs, and found a wild Vine, and gathered thereof wild Gourds, his lap full."[59:1] It is not quite certain what species of Gourd is here meant, but all the old commentators considered it to be the Colocynth,[59:2] the word "vine" meaning any climbing plant, a meaning that is still in common use in America.

All the tribe of Cucumbers are handsome foliaged plants, but they require room. On the Continent they are much more frequently grown in gardens than in England, but the hardy perennial Cucumber (_Cucumis perennis_) makes a very handsome carpet where the space can be spared, and the Squirting Cucumber (also hardy and perennial) is worth growing for its curious fruit. (_See also_ PUMPION.)

FOOTNOTES:

[59:1] 2 Kings iv. 39.

[59:2] "Invenitque quasi vitem sylvestrem, et collegit ex ea Colocynthidas agri."--_Vulgate._

COLUMBINE.

(1) _Armado._

I am that flower,

_Dumain._

That Mint.

_Longaville._

That Columbine.

_Love's Labour's Lost_, act v, sc. 2 (661).

(2) _Ophelia._

There's Fennel for you and Columbines.

_Hamlet_, act iv, sc. 5 (189).

This brings us to one of the most favourite of our old-fashioned English flowers. It is very doubtful whether it is a true native, but from early times it has been "carefully nursed up in our gardens for the delight both of its forme and colours" (Parkinson); yet it had a bad character, as we see from two passages quoted by Steevens--

"What's that--a Columbine? No! that thankless flower grows not in my garden."

_All Fools_, by CHAPMAN, 1605.

and again in the 15th Song of Drayton's "Polyolbion"--

"The Columbine amongst they sparingly do set."

Spenser gave it a better character. Among his "gardyn of sweet floures, that dainty odours from them threw around," he places--

"Her neck lyke to a bounch of Cullambynes."

And, still earlier, Skelton (1463-1529) spoke of it with high praise--

"She is the Vyolet, The Daysy delectable, The Columbine commendable, The Ielofer amyable."--_Phyllip Sparrow._

Both the English and the Latin names are descriptive of the plant. Columbine, or the Dove-plant, calls our attention to the "resemblance of its nectaries to the heads of pigeons in a ring round a dish, a favourite device of ancient artists" (Dr. Prior); or to "the figure of a hovering dove with expanded wings, which we obtain by pulling off a single petal with its attached sepals" (Lady Wilkinson); though it may also have had some reference to the colour, as the word is used by Chaucer--

"Come forth now with thin eyghen Columbine."

_The Marchaundes Tale_ (190).

The Latin name, _Aquilegia_, is generally supposed to come from _aquilegus_, a water-collector, alluding to the water-holding powers of the flower; it may, however, be derived from _aquila_, an eagle, but this seems more doubtful.

As a favourite garden flower, the Columbine found its way into heraldic blazonry. "It occurs in the crest of the old Barons Grey of Vitten, as may be seen in the garter coat of William Grey of Vitten" (Camden Society 1847), and is thus described in the Painter's bill for the ceremonial of the funeral of William Lord Grey of Vitten (MS. Coll. of Arms, i, 13, fol. 35a): "Item, his creste with the favron, or, sette on a leftehande glove, argent, out thereof issuyinge, caste over threade, a braunch of Collobyns, blue, the stalk vert." Old Gwillim also enumerates the Columbine among his "Coronary Herbs," as follows: "He beareth argent, a chevron sable between three Columbines slipped proper, by the name of Hall of Coventry. The Columbine is pleasing to the eye, as well in respect of the seemly (and not vulgar) shape as in regard of the azury colour thereof, and is holden to be very medicinable for the dissolving of imposthumations or swellings in the throat."

As a garden plant the Columbine still holds a favourite place. Hardy, handsome, and easy of cultivation, it commends itself to the most ornamental as well as to the cottage garden, and there are so many different sorts (both species and varieties) that all tastes may be suited. Of the common species (A. vulgaris) there are double and single, blue, white, and red; there is the beautiful dwarf A. Pyrenaica, never exceeding six inches in height, but of a very rich deep blue; there are the red and yellow ones (A. Skinneri and A. formosa) from North America; and, to mention no more, there are the lovely A. coerulea and the grand A. chrysantha from the Rocky Mountains, certainly two of the most desirable acquisitions to our hardy flowers that we have had in late years.

CORK.

(1) _Rosalind._

I prythee take the Cork out of thy mouth, that I may hear thy tidings.

_As You Like It_, act iii, sc. 2 (213).

(2) _Clown._

As you'ld thrust a Cork into a hogshead.

_Winter's Tale_, act iii, sc. 3 (95).

(3) _Cornwall._

Bind fast his Corky arms.

_King Lear_, act iii, sc. 7 (28).

It is most probable that Shakespeare had no further acquaintance with the Cork tree than his use of Corks. The living tree was not introduced into England till the latter part of the seventeenth century, yet is very fairly described both by Gerard and Parkinson. The Cork, however, was largely imported, and was especially used for shoes. Not only did "shoemakers put it in shoes and pantofles for warmness sake," but for its lightness it was used for the high-heeled shoes of the fashionable ladies. I suppose from the following lines that these shoes were a distinguishing part of a bride's trousseau--

"Strip off my bride's array, My Cork-shoes from my feet, And, gentle mother, be not coy To bring my winding sheet."

_The Bride's Burial_--Roxburghe Ballads.

The Cork tree is a necessary element in all botanic gardens, but as an ornamental tree it is not sufficiently distinct from the Ilex. Though a native of the South of Europe it is hardy in England.

CORN.

(1) _Gonzalo._

No use of metal, Corn, or wine, or oil.

_Tempest_, act ii, sc. 1 (154).

(2) _Duke._

Our Corn's to reap, for yet our tithe's to sow.

_Measure for Measure_, act iv, sc. 1 (76).

(3) _Titania._

Playing on pipes of Corn, (67)

* * * * *

The green Corn Hath rotted ere his youth attained a beard.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act ii, sc. 1 (94).

(4) _K. Edward._

What valiant foemen, like to autumn's Corn, Have we mowed down in tops of all their pride!

_3rd Henry VI_, act v, sc. 7 (3).

(5) _Pucelle._

Talk like the vulgar sort of market men That come to gather money for their Corn.

_1st Henry VI_, act iii, sc. 2 (4).

Poor market folks that come to sell their Corn.

_Ibid._ (14).

Good morrow, gallants! want ye Corn for bread?

_Ibid._ (41).

_Burgundy._

I trust, ere long, to choke thee with thine own, And make thee curse the harvest of that Corn.

_Ibid._ (46).

(6) _Duchess._

Why droops my lord like over-ripened Corn Hanging the head at Ceres' plenteous load?

_2nd Henry VI_, act i, sc. 2. (1).

(7) _Warwick._

His well-proportioned beard made rough and ragged Like to the summer's Corn by tempest lodged.

_2nd Henry VI_, act iii, sc. 2 (175).

(8) _Mowbray._

We shall be winnow'd with so rough a wind That even our Corn shall seem as light as chaff.

_2nd Henry IV_, act iv, sc. 1 (194).

(9) _Macbeth._

Though bladed Corn be lodged and trees blown down.

_Macbeth_, act iv, sc. 1 (55).

(10) _Longaville._

He weeds the Corn, and still lets grow the weeding.

_Love's Labour's Lost_, act i, sc. 1 (96).

(11) _Biron._

Allons! allons! sowed Cockle reap'd no Corn.

_Ibid._, act iv, sc 3 (383).

(12) _Edgar._

Sleepest or wakest thou, jolly shepherd? Thy sheep be in the Corn.

_King Lear_, act iii, sc. 6 (43).

(13) _Cordelia._

All the idle weeds that grow In our sustaining Corn.

_Ibid._, act iv, sc. 4 (6).

(14) _Demetrius._

First thrash the Corn, then after burn the straw.

_Titus Andronicus_, act ii, sc. 3 (123).

(15) _Marcus._

O, let me teach you how to knit again This scattered Corn into one mutual sheaf.

_Ibid._, act v, sc. 3 (70).

(16) _Pericles._

Our ships are stored with Corn to make your needy bread.

_Pericles_, act i, sc. 4 (95).

(17) _Cleon._

Your grace that fed my country with your Corn.

_Ibid._, act iii, sc. 3 (18).

(18) _Menenius._

For Corn at their own rates.

_Coriolanus_, act i, sc. 1 (193).

_Marcus._

The gods sent not Corn for the rich men only.

_Ibid._ (211).

_Marcus._

The Volsces have much Corn.

_Ibid._ (253).

_Citizen._

We stood up about the Corn.

_Ibid._, act ii, sc. 3 (16).

_Brutus._

Corn was given them gratis.

_Ibid._, act iii, sc. 1 (43).

_Coriolanus._

Tell me of Corn!

_Ibid._ (61).

The Corn of the storehouse gratis.

_Ibid._ (125).

The Corn was not our recompense.

_Ibid._ (120).

This kind of service Did not deserve Corn gratis.

_Coriolanus_, act iii, sc. 1 (124).

(19) _Cranmer._

I am right glad to catch this good occasion Most thoroughly to be winnow'd, where my chaff And Corn shall fly asunder.

_Henry VIII_, act v, sc. 1 (110).

(20) _Cranmer._

Her foes shake like a field of beaten Corn And hang their heads with sorrow.

_Ibid._, act v, sc. 4 (32).

(21) _K. Richard._

We'll make foul weather with despised tears; Our sighs and they shall lodge the summer Corn.

_Richard II_, act iii, sc. 3 (161).

(22) _Arcite._

And run Swifter then winde upon a field of Corne (Curling the wealthy eares) never flew.

_Two Noble Kinsmen_, act ii, sc. 3 (91).

(23)

As Corn o'ergrown by weeds, so heedful fear Is almost choked by unresisted lust.

_Lucrece_ (281).

I have made these quotations as short as possible. They could not be omitted, but they require no comment.

COWSLIP.

(1) _Burgundy._

The even mead that erst brought sweetly forth The freckled Cowslip, Burnet, and green Clover.

_Henry V_, act v, sc. 2 (48).

(2) _Queen._

The Violets, Cowslips, and the Primroses, Bear to my closet.

_Cymbeline_, act i, sc. 5 (83).

(3) _Iachimo._

On her left breast A mole, cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops I' the bottom of a Cowslip.

_Ibid._, act ii, sc. 2 (37).

(4) _Ariel._

Where the bee sucks there suck I, In a Cowslip's bell I lie.

_Tempest_, act v, sc. 1 (88).

(5) _Thisbe._

Those yellow Cowslip cheeks.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act v, sc. 1 (339).

(6) _Fairy._

The Cowslips tall her pensioners be; In their gold coats spots you see; Those be rubies, fairy favours, In those freckles live their savours; I must go seek some dewdrops here, And hang a pearl in every Cowslip's ear.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act ii, sc. 1 (10).[65:1]

"Cowslips! how the children love them, and go out into the fields on the sunny April mornings to collect them in their little baskets, and then come home and pick the pips to make sweet unintoxicating wine, preserving at the same time untouched a bunch of the goodliest flowers as a harvest-sheaf of beauty! and then the white soft husks are gathered into balls and tossed from hand to hand till they drop to pieces, to be trodden upon and forgotten. And so at last, when each sense has had its fill of the flower, and they are thoroughly tired of their play, the children rest from their celebration of the Cowslip. Blessed are such flowers that appeal to every sense." So wrote Dr. Forbes Watson in his very pretty and Ruskinesque little work "Flowers and Gardens," and the passage well expresses one of the chief charms of the Cowslip. It is the most favourite wild flower with children. It must have been also a favourite with Shakespeare, for his descriptions show that he had studied it with affection. The minute description in (6) should be noticed. The upright golden Cowslip is compared to one of Queen Elizabeth's Pensioners, who were splendidly dressed, and are frequently noticed in the literature of the day. With Mrs. Quickly they were the _ne plus ultra_ of grandeur--"And yet there has been earls, nay, which is more, pensioners" ("Merry Wives," act ii, sc. 2). Milton, too, sings in its praise--

"Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the East, and leads with her The flowering May, who from her green lap throws The yellow Cowslip and the pale Primrose."

_Song on May Morning._

"Whilst from off the waters fleet, Then I set my printless feet O'er the Cowslip's velvet head That bends not as I tread."

_Sabrina's Song in Comus._

But in "Lycidas" he associates it with more melancholy ideas--

"With Cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, And every flower that sad embroidery wears."

This association of sadness with the Cowslip is copied by Mrs. Hemans, who speaks of "Pale Cowslips, meet for maiden's early bier;" but these are exceptions. All the other poets who have written of the Cowslip (and they are very numerous) tell of its joyousness, and brightness, and tender beauty, and its "bland, yet luscious, meadow-breathing scent."

The names of the plant are a puzzle; botanically it is a Primrose, but it is never so called. It has many names, but its most common are Paigle and Cowslip. Paigle has never been satisfactorily explained, nor has Cowslip. Our great etymologists, Cockayne and Dr. Prior and Wedgwood, are all at variance on the name; and Dr. Prior assures us that it has nothing to do with either "cows" or "lips," though the derivation, if untrue, is at least as old as Ben Jonson, who speaks of "Bright Dayes-eyes and the lips of Cowes." But we all believe it has, and, without inquiring too closely into the etymology, we connect the flower with the rich pastures and meadows of which it forms so pretty a spring ornament, while its fine scent recalls the sweet breath of the cow--"just such a sweet, healthy odour is what we find in cows; an odour which breathes around them as they sit at rest on the pasture, and is believed by many, perhaps with truth, to be actually curative of disease" (Forbes Watson).

Botanically, the Cowslip is a very interesting plant. In all essential points the Primrose, Cowslip, and Oxlip are identical; the Primrose, however, choosing woods and copses and the shelter of the hedgerows, the Cowslip choosing the open meadows, while the Oxlip is found in either. The garden "Polyanthus of unnumbered dyes" (Thomson's "Seasons:" Spring) is only another form produced by cultivation, and is one of the most favourite plants in cottage gardens. It may, however, well be grown in gardens of more pretension; it is neat in growth, handsome in flower, of endless variety, and easy cultivation. There are also many varieties of the Cowslip, of different colours, double and single, which are very useful in the spring garden.

FOOTNOTES:

[65:1] Drayton also allotted the Cowslip as the special Fairies' flower--

"For the queene a fitting bower, (Quoth he) is that tall Cowslip flower."--_Nymphidia._

CRABS, _see_ APPLE.

CROCUS, _see_ SAFFRON.

CROW-FLOWERS.

_Queen._

There with fantastic garlands did she come Of Crow-flowers, Nettles, Daisies, and Long Purples.

_Hamlet_, act iv, sc. 7 (169).

The Crow-flower is now the Buttercup,[67:1] but in Shakespeare's time it was applied to the Ragged Robin (_Lychnis flos-cuculi_), and I should think that this was the flower that poor Ophelia wove into her garland. Gerard says, "They are not used either in medicine or in nourishment; but they serve for garlands and crowns, and to deck up gardens." We do not now use the Ragged Robin for the decking of our gardens, not that we despise it, for it is a flower that all admire in the hedgerows, but because we have other members of the same family as easy to grow and more handsome, such as the double variety of the wild plant, L. Chalcedonica, L. Lagascæ, L. fulgens, L. Haagena, &c. In Shakespeare's time the name was also given to the Wild Hyacinth, which is so named by Turner and Lyte; but this could scarcely have been the flower of Ophelia's garland, which was composed of the flowers of early summer, and not of spring. (See Appendix, p. 388.)

FOOTNOTES:

[67:1] In Scotland the Wild Hyacinth is still called the Crow-flower--

"Sweet the Crow-flower's early bell Decks Gleniffer's dewy dell, Blooming like thy bonny sel, My young, my artless dearie, O."

TANNAHILL, _Gloomy Winter_.

CROWN IMPERIAL.

_Perdita._

Bold Oxlips, and The Crown Imperial.

_Winter's Tale_, act iv, sc. 4 (125).

The Crown Imperial is a Fritillary (_F. imperialis_). It is a native of Persia, Afghanistan, and Cashmere, but it was very early introduced into England from Constantinople, and at once became a favourite. Chapman, in 1595, spoke of it as--

"Fair Crown Imperial, Emperor of Flowers."

OVID'S _Banquet of Sense_.

Gerard had it plentifully in his garden, and Parkinson gave it the foremost place in his "Paradisus Terrestris." "The Crown Imperial," he says, "for its stately beautifulnesse deserveth the first place in this our garden of delight, to be here entreated of before all other Lillies." George Herbert evidently admired it much--

"Then went I to a garden, and did spy A gallant flower, The Crown Imperial."

_Peace_ (13).

And if not in Shakespeare's time, yet certainly very soon after, there were as many varieties as there are now. The plant, as a florist's flower, has stood still in a very remarkable way. Though it is apparently a plant that invites the attention of the hybridizing gardener, yet we still have but the two colours, the red and the yellow (a pure white would be a great acquisition), with single and double flowers, flowers in tiers, and with variegated leaves. And all these varieties have existed for more than two hundred years.

As a stately garden plant it should be in every garden. It flowers early, and then dies down. But it should be planted rather in the background, as the whole plant has an evil smell, especially in sunshine. Yet it should have a close attention, if only to study and admire the beautiful interior of the flower. I know of no other flower that is similarly formed, and it cannot be better described than in Gerard's words: "In the bottome of each of the bells there is placed six drops of most cleere shining sweet water, in taste like sugar, resembling in shew faire Orient pearles, the which drops if you take away, there do immediately appeare the like; notwithstanding, if they may be suffered to stand still in the floure according to his owne nature, they wil never fall away, no, not if you strike the plant untill it be broken." How these drops are formed, and what service they perform in the economy of the flower, has not been explained, as far as I am aware; but there is a pretty German legend which tells how the flower was originally white and erect, and grew in its full beauty in the garden of Gethsemane, where it was often noticed and admired by our Lord; but in the night of the agony, as our Lord passed through the garden, all the other flowers bowed their head in sorrowful adoration, the Crown Imperial alone remaining with its head unbowed, but not for long--sorrow and shame took the place of pride, she bent her proud[69:1] head, and blushes of shame, and tears of sorrow soon followed, and so she has ever continued, with bent head, blushing colour, and ever-flowing tears. It is a pretty legend, and may be found at full length in "Good Words for the Young," August, 1870.

FOOTNOTES:

[69:1] The bent head of the Crown Imperial could not well escape notice--

"The Polyanthus, and with prudent head, The Crown Imperial, ever bent on earth, Favouring her secret rites, and pearly sweets."--FORSTER.

CUCKOO-BUDS AND FLOWERS.

(1) _Song of Spring._

When Daisies pied, and Violets blue, And Lady-smocks all silver-white, And Cuckoo-buds of yellow hue, Do paint the meadows with delight.

_Love's Labour's Lost_, act v, sc. 2 (904).

(2) _Cordelia._

He was met even now As mad as the vex'd sea; singing aloud; Crown'd with rank Fumiter and Furrow-weeds, With Burdocks, Hemlock, Nettles, Cuckoo-flowers, Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow In our sustaining Corn.

_King Lear_, act iv, sc. 4 (1).

There is a difficulty in deciding what flower Shakespeare meant by Cuckoo-buds. We now always give the name to the Meadow Cress (_Cardamine pratensis_), but it cannot be that in either of these passages, because that flower is mentioned under its other name of Lady-smocks in the previous line (No. 1), nor is it "of yellow hue;" nor does it grow among Corn, as described in No. 2. Many plants have been suggested, and the choice seems to me to lie between two. Mr. Swinfen Jervis[70:1] decides without hesitation in favour of Cowslips, and the yellow hue painting the meadows in spring time gives much force to the decision; Schmidt gives the same interpretation; but I think the Buttercup, as suggested by Dr. Prior, will still better meet the requirements.

FOOTNOTES:

[70:1] "Dictionary of the Language of Shakespeare," 1868.

CUPID'S FLOWER, _see_ PANSIES.

CURRANTS.

(1) _Clown._

What am I to buy for our sheep-shearing feast? Three pound of Sugar, five pound of Currants.

_Winter's Tale_, act iv, sc. 3 (39).

(2) _Theseus._

I stamp this kisse upon thy Currant lippe.

_Two Noble Kinsmen_, act i, sc. 1 (241).

The Currants of (1) are the Currants of commerce, the fruit of the Vitis Corinthiaca, whence the fruit has derived its name of Corans, or Currants.

The English Currants are of an entirely different family; and are closely allied to the Gooseberry. The Currants--black, white, and red--are natives of the northern parts of Europe, and are probably wild in Britain. They do not seem to have been much grown as garden fruit till the early part of the sixteenth century, and are not mentioned by the earlier writers; but that they were known in Shakespeare's time we have the authority of Gerard, who, speaking of Gooseberries, says: "We have also in our London gardens another sort altogether without prickes, whose fruit is very small, lesser by muche than the common kinde, but of a perfect red colour." This "perfect red colour" explains the "currant lip" of No. 2.

CYME, _see_ SENNA.

CYPRESS.[71:1]

(1) _Suffolk._

Their sweetest shade, a grove of Cypress trees!

_2nd Henry VI_, act iii, sc. 2 (322).

(2) _Aufidius._

I am attended at the Cypress grove.

_Coriolanus_, act i, sc. 10 (30).

(3) _Gremio._

In ivory coffers I have stuff'd my crowns, In Cypress chests my arras counterpoints.

_Taming of the Shrew_, act ii, sc. 1 (351).

The Cypress (_Cupressus sempervirens_), originally a native of Mount Taurus, is found abundantly through all the South of Europe, and is said to derive its name from the Island of Cyprus. It was introduced into England many years before Shakespeare's time, but is always associated in the old authors with funerals and churchyards; so that Spenser calls it the "Cypress funereal," which epithet he may have taken from Pliny's description of the Cypress: "Natu morosa, fructu supervacua, baccis torva, foliis amara, odore violenta, ac ne umbrâ quidem gratiosa--Diti sacra, et ideo funebri signo ad domos posita" ("Nat. Hist.," xvi. 32).

Sir John Mandeville mentions the Cypress in a very curious way: "The Cristene men, that dwellen beyond the See, in Grece, seyn that the tree of the Cros, that we callen Cypresse, was of that tree that Adam ete the Appule of; and that fynde thei writen" ("Voiage," &c., cap. 2). And the old poem of the "Squyr of lowe degre," gives the tree a sacred pre-eminence--

"The tre it was of Cypresse, The fyrst tre that Iesu chese."

RITSON'S _Ear. Eng. Met. Romances_, viii. (31).

"In the Arundel MS. 42 may be found an alphabet of plants. . . . The author mentions his garden 'by Stebenhythe by syde London,' and relates that he brought a bough of Cypress with its Apples from Bristol 'into Estbritzlond,' fresh in September, to show that it might be propagated by slips."--_Promptorium Parvulorum_, app. 67.

The Cypress is an ornamental evergreen, but stiff in its growth till it becomes of a good age; and for garden purposes the European plant is becoming replaced by the richer forms from Asia and North America, such as C. Lawsoniana, macrocarpa, Lambertiana, and others.

FOOTNOTES:

[71:1] Cypress, or Cyprus (for the word is spelt differently in the different editions), is also mentioned by Shakespeare in the following--

(1) _Clown._

In sad Cypress let me be laid.

_Twelfth Night_, act ii, sc. 4.

(2) _Olivia._

To one of your receiving Enough is shown; and Cyprus, not a bosom, Hides my poor heart.

_Ibid._, act iii, sc. 1.

(3) _Autolycus._

Lawn as white as driven snow, Cyprus, black as e'er was crow.

_Winter's Tale_, act iv, sc. 3.

But in all these cases the Cypress is not the name of the plant, but is the fabric which we now call crape, the "sable stole of Cypre's lawn" of Milton's "Penseroso."

DAFFODILS.[73:1]

(1) _Autolycus._

When Daffodils begin to peer, With heigh! the doxy o'er the dale, Why, then comes in the sweet o' the year.

_Winter's Tale_, act iv, sc. 3 (1).

(2) _Perdita._

Daffodils That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty.

_Ibid._, act iv, sc. 4 (118).

(3) _Wooer._

With chaplets on their heads of Daffodillies.

_Two Noble Kinsmen_, act iv, sc. 1 (94).

_See also_ NARCISSUS, p. 175.

Of all English plants there have been none in such constant favour as the Daffodil, whether known by its classical name of Narcissus, or by its more popular names of Daffodil, or Daffadowndilly, and Jonquil. The name of Narcissus it gets from being supposed to be the same as the plant so named by the Greeks first and the Romans afterwards. It is a question whether the plants are the same, and I believe most authors think they are not; but I have never been able to see very good reasons for their doubts. The name Jonquil comes corrupted through the French, from _juncifolius_ or "rush-leaf," and is properly restricted to those species of the family which have rushy leaves. "Daffodil" is commonly said to be a corruption of Asphodel ("Daffodil is +Asphodelon+, and has capped itself with a letter which eight hundred years ago did not belong to it."--COCKAYNE, _Spoon and Sparrow_, 19), with which plant it was confused (as it is in Lyte's "Herbal"), but Lady Wilkinson says very positively that "it is simply the old English word 'affodyle,'[73:2] which signifies 'that which cometh early.'" "Daffadowndilly," again is supposed to be but a playful corruption of "Daffodil," but Dr. Prior argues (and he is a very safe authority) that it is rather a corruption of "Saffron Lily." Daffadowndilly is not used by Shakespeare, but it is used by his contemporaries, as by Spenser frequently, and by H. Constable, who died in 1604--

"Diaphenia, like the Daffadowndilly, White as the sun, fair as the Lilly, Heigh, ho! how I do love thee!"

But however it derived its pretty names, it was the favourite flower of our ancestors as a garden flower, and especially as the flower for making garlands, a custom very much more common then than it is now. It was the favourite of all English poets. Gower describes the Narcissus--

"For in the winter fresh and faire The flowres ben, which is contraire To kind, and so was the folie Which fell of his surquedrie"--_i.e._, of Narcissus.

_Confes. Aman._ lib. prim. (1. 121 Paulli).

Shakespeare must have had a special affection for it, for in all his descriptions there is none prettier or more suggestive than Perdita's short but charming description of the Daffodil (No. 2). A small volume might be filled with the many poetical descriptions of this "delectable and sweet-smelling flower," but there are some which are almost classical, and which can never be omitted, and which will bear repetition, however well we know them. Milton says, "The Daffodillies fill their cups with tears."[74:1] There are Herrick's well-known lines--

"Fair Daffodils, we weep to see You haste away so soon, As yet the early-rising sun Has not attained his noon; Stay, stay, Until the hastening day Has run But to the even-song; And having prayed together, we Will go with you along.

We have short time to stay as you, We have as short a spring, As quick a growth to meet decay, As you or anything. We die, As your hours do, and dry Away, Like to the summer's rain, Or as the pearls of morning dew, Ne'er to be found again."

And there are Keats' and Shelley's well-known and beautiful lines which bring down the praises of the Daffodil to our own day. Keats says--

"A thing of beauty is a joy for ever, Its loveliness increases, it will never Pass into nothingness. . . . . . . . . . . In spite of all Some shape of beauty moves away the pale From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon, Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon For simple sheep; and such are Daffodils With the green world they live in."

Shelley is still warmer in his praise--

"Narcissus, the fairest among them all, Who gaze on their eyes in the stream's recess, Till they die of their own dear loveliness."

_The Sensitive Plant_, p. 1.

Nor must Wordsworth be left out when speaking of the poetry of Daffodils. His stanzas are well known, while his sister's prose description of them is the most poetical of all: "They grew among the mossy stones; . . . some rested their heads on these stones as on a pillow, the rest tossed and reeled and danced, and seemed as if they verily laughed with the wind, they looked so gay and glancing."[76:1]

But it is time to come to prose. The Daffodil of Shakespeare is the Wild Daffodil (_Narcissus pseudo-Narcissus_) that is found in abundance in many parts of England. This is the true English Daffodil, and there is only one other species that is truly native--the N. biflorus, chiefly found in Devonshire. But long before Shakespeare's time a vast number had been introduced from different parts of Europe, so that Gerard was able to describe twenty-four different species, and had "them all and every of them in our London gardens in great abundance." The family, as at present arranged by Mr. J. G. Baker, of the Kew Herbarium, consists of twenty-one species, with several sub-species and varieties; all of which should be grown. They are all, with the exception of the Algerian species, which almost defy cultivation in England, most easy of cultivation--"Magnâ curâ non indigent Narcissi." They only require after the first planting to be let alone, and then they will give us their graceful flowers in varied beauty from February to May. The first will usually be the grand N. maximus, which may be called the King of Daffodils, though some authors have given to it a still more illustrious name. The "Rose of Sharon" was the large yellow Narcissus, common in Palestine and the East generally, of which Mahomet said: "He that has two cakes of bread, let him sell one of them for some flower of the Narcissus, for bread is the food of the body, but Narcissus is the food of the soul." From these grand leaders of the tribe we shall be led through the Hoop-petticoats, the many-flowered Tazettas, and the sweet Jonquils, till we end the Narcissus season with the Poets' Narcissus (Ben Jonson's "chequ'd and purple-ringed Daffodilly"), certainly one of the most graceful flowers that grows, and of a peculiar fragrance that no other flower has; so beautiful is it, that even Dr. Forbes Watson's description of it is scarcely too glowing: "In its general expression the Poets' Narcissus seems a type of maiden purity and beauty, yet warmed by a love-breathing fragrance; and yet what innocence in the large soft eye, which few can rival amongst the whole tribe of flowers. The narrow, yet vivid fringe of red, so clearly seen amidst the whiteness, suggests again the idea of purity, gushing passion--purity with a heart which can kindle into fire."

FOOTNOTES:

[73:1] This account of the Daffodil, and the accounts of some other flowers, I have taken from a paper by myself on the common English names of plants read to the Bath Field Club in 1870, and published in the "Transactions" of the Club, and afterwards privately printed.--H. N. E.

[73:2]

"Herbe orijam and Thyme and Violette Eke Affodyle and savery thereby sette."

_Palladius on Husbandrie_, book i, 1014. (E. E. Text Soc.)

[74:1] "The cup in the centre of the flower is supposed to contain the tears of Narcissus, to which Milton alludes; . . . and Virgil in the following--

'Pars intra septa domorum Narcissi lacrymas . . . ponunt.'"--_Flora Domestica_, 268.

[76:1] The "Quarterly Review," quoting this description, says that "few poets ever lived who could have written a description so simple and original, so vivid and descriptive." Yet it is an unconscious imitation of Homer's account of the Narcissus--

"+narkisson th' . . . thaumaston ganoônta; sebas de te pasin idesthai athanatois te theois êde thnêtois anthrôpois; tou kai apo rizês hekaton kara exepephykei; kêôdei t' odmê pas t' ouranos eurys hyperthen, gaia te pas; egelasse, kai almyron oidma thalassês.+"

_Hymn to Demeter_, 8-14.

DAISIES.

(1) _Song of Spring._

When Daisies pied, and Violets, &c.

_Love's Labour's Lost_, act v, sc. 2 (904). (_See_ CUCKOO-BUDS.)

(2) _Lucius._

Let us Find out the prettiest Daisied plot we can, And make him with our pikes and partizans A grave.

_Cymbeline_, act iv, sc. 2 (397).

(3) _Ophelia._

There's a Daisy.

_Hamlet_, act iv, sc. 5 (183).

(4) _Queen._

There with fantastic garlands did she come Of Crow-flowers, Nettles, Daisies, and Long Purples.

_Ibid._, act iv, sc. 7 (169).

(5)

Without the bed her other faire hand was On the green coverlet; whose perfect white Show'd like an April Daisy on the Grass.

_Lucrece_ (393).

(6)

Daisies smel-lesse, yet most quaint.

_Two Noble Kinsmen_, Introd. song.

_See_ APPENDIX. I., p. 359.

DAMSONS, _see_ PLUMS.

DARNEL.

(1) _Cordelia._

Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow In our sustaining Corn.

_King Lear_, act iv, sc. 4 (5). (_See_ CUCKOO-FLOWERS.)

(2) _Burgundy._

Her fallow leas, The Darnel, Hemlock, and rank Fumitory Doth root upon.

_Henry V_, act v, sc. 2 (44).

(3) _Pucelle._

Good morrow, Gallants! want ye Corn for bread? I think the Duke of Burgundy will fast, Before he'll buy again at such a rate; 'Twas full of Darnel; do you like the taste?

_1st Henry VI_, act iii, sc. 2 (41).

Virgil, in his Fifth Eclogue, says--

"Grandia sæpe quibus mandavimus hordea solcis Infelix lolium et steriles dominantur avenæ."

Thus translated by Thomas Newton, 1587--

"Sometimes there sproutes abundant store Of baggage, noisome weeds, Burres, Brembles, Darnel, Cockle, Dawke, Wild Oates, and choaking seedes."

And the same is repeated in the first Georgic, and in both places _lolium_ is always translated Darnel, and so by common consent Darnel is identified with the Lolium temulentum or wild Rye Grass. But in Shakespeare's time Darnel, like Cockle (which see), was the general name for any hurtful weed. In the old translation of the Bible, the Zizania, which is now translated Tares, was sometime translated Cockle,[78:1] and Newton, writing in Shakespeare's time, says--"Under the name of Cockle and Darnel is comprehended all vicious, noisom and unprofitable graine, encombring and hindring good corne."--_Herball to the Bible._ The Darnel is not only injurious from choking the corn, but its seeds become mixed with the true Wheat, and so in Dorsetshire--and perhaps in other parts--it has the name of "Cheat" (Barnes' Glossary), from its false likeness to Wheat. It was this false likeness that got for it its bad character. "Darnell or Juray," says Lyte ("Herball," 1578), "is a vitious graine that combereth or anoyeth corne, especially Wheat, and in his knotten straw, blades, or leaves is like unto Wheate." Yet Lindley says that "the noxious qualities of Darnel or Lolium temulentum seem to rest upon no certain proof" ("Vegetable Kingdom," p. 116).

FOOTNOTES:

[78:1] "When men were a sleepe, his enemy came and oversowed Cockle among the wheate, and went his way."--_Rheims Trans._, 1582. For further early references to Cockle or Darnel see note on "Darnelle" in the "Catholicon Anglicum," p. 90, and Britten's "English Plant Names," p. 143.

DATES.

(1) _Clown._

I must have Saffron to colour the Warden pies--Mace--Dates? none; that's out of my note.

_Winter's Tale_, act iv, sc. 3 (48).

(2) _Nurse._

They call for Dates and Quinces in the pastry.

_Romeo and Juliet_, act iv, sc. 4 (2).

(3) _Parolles._

Your Date is better in your pie and your porridge than in your cheek.

_All's Well that Ends Well_, act i, sc. 1 (172).

(4) _Pandarus._

Do you know what a man is? Is not birth, beauty, good shape, discourse, manhood, learning, gentleness, virtue, youth, liberality, and such like, the spice and salt that season a man?

_Cressida._

Ay, a minced man; and then to be baked with no Date in the pye; for then the man's date's out.

_Troilus and Cressida_, act i, sc. 2 (274).

The Date is the well-known fruit of the Date Palm (_Phoenix dactylifera_), the most northern of the Palms. The Date Palm grows over the whole of Southern Europe, North Africa, and South-eastern Asia; but it is not probable that Shakespeare ever saw the tree, though Neckam speaks of it in the twelfth century, and Lyte describes it, and Gerard made many efforts to grow it; he tried to grow plants from the seed, "the which I have planted many times in my garden, and have grown to the height of three foot, but the first frost hath nipped them in such sort that they perished, notwithstanding mine industrie by covering them, or what else I could do for their succour." The fruit, however, was imported into England in very early times, and was called by the Anglo-Saxons Finger-Apples, a curious name, but easily explained as the translation of the Greek name for the fruit, +daktyloi+ which was also the origin of the word date, of which the olden form was dactylle.[80:1]

FOOTNOTES:

[80:1] "A dactylle frute dactilis."--_Catholicon Anglicum._

DEAD MEN'S FINGERS.

_Queen._

Our cold maids do Dead Men's Fingers call them.

_Hamlet_, act iv, sc. 7 (172).

_See_ LONG PURPLES, p. 148.

DEWBERRIES.

_Titania._

Feed him with Apricocks and Dewberries.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act iii, sc. 1 (169).

The Dewberry (_Rubus cæsius_) is a handsome fruit, very like the Blackberry, but coming earlier. It has a peculiar sub-acid flavour, which is much admired by some, as it must have been by Titania, who joins it with such fruits as Apricots, Grapes, Figs, and Mulberries. It may be readily distinguished from the Blackberry by the fruit being composed of a few larger drupes, and being covered with a glaucous bloom.

DIAN'S BUD.

_Oberon._

Be, as thou wast wont to be (touching her eyes with an herb), See, as thou wast wont to see; Dian's Bud o'er Cupid's flower Hath such force and blessed power.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act iv, sc. 1 (76).

The same herb is mentioned in act iii, sc. 2 (366)--

Then crush this herb into Lysander's eye, Whose liquor hath this virtuous property, To take from thence all error, with his might, And make his eyeballs roll with wonted sight.

But except in these two passages I believe the herb is not mentioned by any author. It can be nothing but Shakespeare's translation of Artemisia, the herb of Artemis or Diana, a herb of wonderful virtue according to the writers before Shakespeare's day. (_See_ WORMWOOD.)

DOCKS.

(1) _Burgundy._

And nothing teems But hateful Docks, rough Thistles, Kecksies, Burs.

_Henry V_, act v, sc. 2 (51).

(2) _Antonio._

He'd sow it with Nettle seed,

_Sebastian._

Or Docks, or Mallows.

_Tempest_, act ii, sc. 1 (145).

The Dock may be dismissed with little note or comment, merely remarking that the name is an old one, and is variously spelled as dokke, dokar, doken, &c. An old name for the plant was "Patience;" the "bitter patience" of Spenser, which is supposed by Dr. Prior to be a corruption of Passions.

DOGBERRY.

(_Dramatis personæ_ in _Much Ado About Nothing._)

The Dogberry is the fruit either of the Cornus sanguinea or of the Euonymus Europæus. Parkinson limits the name to the Cornus, and says: "We for the most part call it the _Dogge berry tree_, because the berries are not fit to be eaten, or to be given to a dogge." The plant is only named by Shakespeare as a man's name, but it could scarcely be omitted, as I agree with Mr. Milner that it was "probable that our dramatist had the tree in his mind when he gave a name to that fine fellow for a 'sixth and lastly,' Constable, Dogberry of the Watch" ("Country Pleasures," p. 229).

EBONY.

(1) _King._

The Ebon-coloured ink.

_Love's Labour's Lost_, act i, sc. 1 (245).

(2) _King._

By heaven, thy love is black as Ebony.

_Biron._

Is Ebony like her? O wood divine! A wife of such wood were felicity.

_Ibid._, act iv, sc. 3 (247).

(3) _Clown._

The clearstores towards the south north are as lustrous as Ebony.

_Twelfth Night_, act iv, sc. 2 (41).

(4) _Pistol._

Rouse up revenge from Ebon den.

_2nd Henry IV_, act v, sc. 5 (39).

(5) Death's Ebon dart, to strike him dead.

_Venus and Adonis_ (948).

The Ebony as a tree was unknown in England in the time of Shakespeare. The wood was introduced, and was the typical emblem of darkness. The timber is the produce of more than one species, but comes chiefly from Diospyros Ebenum, Ebenaster, Melanoxylon, Mabola, &c. (Lindley), all natives of the East.

EGLANTINE.

(1) _Oberon._

I know a bank where the wild Thyme blows, Where Oxlips and the nodding Violet grows; Quite over-canopied with luscious Woodbine, With sweet Musk-Roses and with Eglantine.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act ii, sc. 1 (249).

(2) _Arviragus._

Thou shalt not lack The flower that's like thy face, pale Primrose, nor The azured Harebell, like thy veins, no, nor The leaf of Eglantine, whom not to slander, Out-sweeten'd not thy breath.

_Cymbeline_, act iv, sc. 2 (220).

If Shakespeare had only written these two passages they would sufficiently have told of his love for simple flowers. None but a dear lover of such flowers could have written these lines. There can be no doubt that the Eglantine in his time was the Sweet Brier--his notice of the sweet leaf makes this certain. Gerard so calls it, but makes some confusion--which it is not easy to explain--by saying that the flowers are white, whereas the flowers of the true Sweet Brier are pink. In the earlier poets the name seems to have been given to any wild Rose, and Milton certainly did not consider the Eglantine and the Sweet Brier to be identical. He says ("L'Allegro")--

"Through the Sweet Briar or the Vine, Or the twisted Eglantine."

But Milton's knowledge of flowers was very limited. Herrick has some pretty lines on the flower, in which it seems most probable that he was referring to the Sweet Brier--

"From this bleeding hand of mine Take this sprig of Eglantine, Which, though sweet unto your smell, Yet the fretful Briar will tell, He who plucks the sweets shall prove Many Thorns to be in love."

It was thus the emblem of pleasure mixed with pain--

"Sweet is the Eglantine, but pricketh nere."

SPENSER, _Sonnet_ xxvi.

And so its names pronounced it to be; it was either the Sweet Brier, or it was Eglantine, the thorny plant (Fr., _aiglentier_). There was also an older name for the plant, of which I can give no explanation. It was called Bedagar. "Bedagar dicitur gallice aiglentier" (John de Gerlande). "_Bedagrage_, spina alba, wit-thorn" (Harl. MS., No. 978 in "Reliquiæ Antiquæ," i, 36).[84:1] The name still exists, though not in common use; but only as the name of a drug made from "the excrescences on the branches of the Rose, and particularly on those of the wild varieties" (Parsons on the Rose).

It is a native of Britain, but not very common, being chiefly confined to the South of England. I have found it on Maidenhead Thicket. As a garden plant it is desirable for the extremely delicate scent of its leaves, but the flower is not equal to others of the family. There is, however, a double-flowered variety, which is handsome. The fruit of the single flowered tree is large, and of a deep red colour, and is said to be sometimes made into a preserve. In modern times this is seldom done, but it may have been common in Shakespeare's time, for Gerard says quaintly: "The fruit when it is ripe maketh most pleasant meats and banqueting dishes, as tarts and such like, the making whereof I commit to the cunning cooke, and teeth to eat them in the rich man's mouth." And Drayton says--

"They'll fetch you conserve from the hip, And lay it softly on your lip."

_Nymphal II._

Eglantine has a further interest in being one of the many thorny trees from which the sacred crown of thorns was supposed to be made--"And afterwards he was led into a garden of Cayphas, and there he was crowned with Eglantine" (Sir John Mandeville).

FOOTNOTES:

[84:1] "Est et cynosrodos, rosa camina, ung eglantier, folia myrti habens, sed paulo majora; recta assurgens in mediam altitudinem inter arborem et fruticem; fert spongiolas, quibus utuntur medici, ad malefica capitis ulcera, la malle tigne, vocatur antem vulgo in officinis pharmacopolarum, bedegar."--_Stephani de re Hortensi Libellus_, p. 17, 1536.

ELDER.

(1) _Arviragus._

And let the stinking Elder, grief, untwine His perishing root with the increasing Vine!

_Cymbeline_, act iv, sc. 2 (59).

(2) _Host._

What says my Æsculapius? my Galen? my heart of Elder?

_Merry Wives_, act ii, sc. 3 (29).

(3) _Saturninus._

Look for thy reward Among the Nettles at the Elder tree,

* * * * *

This is the pit and this the Elder tree.

_Titus Andronicus_, act ii, sc. 3 (271).

(4) _Williams._

That's a perilous shot out of an Elder gun, that a poor and private displeasure can do against a monarch.

_Henry V_, act iv, sc. 1 (200).

(5) _Holofernes._

Begin, sir, you are my Elder.

_Biron._

Well followed; Judas was hanged on an Elder.

_Love's Labour's Lost_, act v, sc. 2 (608).

There is, perhaps, no tree round which so much of contradictory folk-lore has gathered as the Elder tree.[85:1] With many it was simply "the stinking Elder," of which nothing but evil could be spoken. Biron (No. 5) only spoke the common mediæval notion that "Judas was hanged on an Elder;" and so firm was this belief that Sir John Mandeville was shown the identical tree at Jerusalem, "and faste by is zit, the Tree of Eldre that Judas henge himself upon, for despeyr that he hadde, when he solde and betrayed oure Lord." This was enough to give the tree a bad fame, which other things helped to confirm--the evil smell of its leaves, the heavy narcotic smell of its flowers, its hard and heartless wood,[85:2] and the ugly drooping black fungus that is almost exclusively found on it (though it occurs also on the Elm), which was vulgarly called the Ear of Judas (_Hirneola auricula Judæ_). This was the bad character; but, on the other hand, there were many who could tell of its many virtues, so that in 1644 appeared a book entirely devoted to its praises. This was "The Anatomie of the Elder, translated from the Latin of Dr. Martin Blockwich by C. de Iryngio" (_i.e._, Christ. Irvine), a book that, in its Latin and English form, went through several editions. And this favourable estimate of the tree is still very common in several parts of the Continent. In the South of Germany it is believed to drive away evil spirits, and the name "'Holderstock' (Elder Stock) is a term of endearment given by a lover to his beloved, and is connected with Hulda, the old goddess of love, to whom the Elder tree was considered sacred." In Denmark and Norway it is held in like esteem, and in the Tyrol an "Elder bush, trained into the form of a cross, is planted on the new-made grave, and if it blossoms the soul of the person lying beneath it is happy." And this use of the Elder for funeral purposes was, perhaps, also an old English custom; for Spenser, speaking of Death, says--

"The Muses that were wont greene Baies to weare, Now bringen bittre Eldre braunches seare."

_Shepherd's Calendar--November._

Nor must we pass by the high value that was placed on the wood both by the Jews and Greeks. It was the wood chiefly used for musical instruments, so that the name Sambuke was applied to several very different instruments, from the fact that they were all made of Elder wood. The "sackbut," "dulcimer," and "pipe" of Daniel iii. are all connected together in this manner.

As a garden plant the common Elder is not admissible, though it forms a striking ornament in the wild hedgerows and copses, while its flowers yield the highly perfumed Elder-flower water, and its fruits give the Elder wine; but the tree runs into many varieties, several of which are very ornamental, the leaves being often very finely divided and jagged, and variegated both with golden and silver blotches. There is a handsome species from Canada (Sambucus Canadensis), which is worth growing in shrubberies, as it produces its pure white flowers in autumn.

FOOTNOTES:

[85:1] Called also Eldern in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and still earlier, Eller or Ellyr ("Catholicon Anglicum"). "The Ellern is a tree with long bowes, ful sounde and sad wythout, and ful holowe within, and ful of certayne nesshe pyth."--_Clanvil de prop._

[85:2] From the facility with which the hard wood can be hollowed out, the tree was from very ancient times called the Bore-tree. See "Catholicon Anglicum," s.v. Bur-tre.

ELM.

(1) _Adriana._

Thou art an Elm, my husband, I a Vine, Whose weakness married to thy stronger state Makes me with thy strength to communicate.

_Comedy of Errors_, act ii, sc. 2 (176).

(2) _Titania._

The female Ivy so Enrings the barky fingers of the Elm.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act iv, sc. 1 (48).

(3) _Poins._

Answer, thou dead Elm, answer![87:1]

_2nd Henry IV_, act ii, sc, 4 (358).

Though Vineyards were more common in England in the sixteenth century than now, yet I can nowhere find that the Vines were ever trained, in the Italian fashion, to Elms or Poplars. Yet Shakespeare does not stand alone in thus speaking of the Elm in its connection with the Vine. Spenser speaks of "the Vine-prop Elme," and Milton--

"They led the Vine To wed her Elm; she spoused, about him twines Her marriageable arms, and with her brings Her dower, the adopted clusters, to adorn His barren leaves."

And Browne--

"She, whose inclination Bent all her course to him-wards, let him know He was the Elm, whereby her Vine did grow."

_Britannia's Pastorals_, book i, song 1.

"An Elm embraced by a Vine, Clipping so strictly that they seemed to be One in their growth, one shade, one fruit, one tree; Her boughs his arms; his leaves so mixed with hers, That with no wind he moved, but straight she stirs."

_Ibid._, ii, 4.

But I should think that neither Shakespeare, nor Browne, nor Milton ever saw an English Vine trained to an Elm; they were simply copying from the classical writers.

The Wych Elm is probably a true native, but the more common Elm of our hedgerows is a tree of Southern Europe and North Africa, and is of such modern introduction into England that in Evelyn's time it was rarely seen north of Stamford. It was probably introduced into Southern England by the Romans.

FOOTNOTES:

[87:1] Why Falstaff should be called a dead Elm is not very apparent; but the Elm was associated with death as producing the wood for coffins. Thus Chaucer speaks of it as "the piler Elme, the cofre unto careyne," _i.e._, carrion ("Parliament of Fowles," 177).

ERINGOES.

_Falstaff._

Let the sky rain Potatoes; let it thunder to the tune of Green Sleeves, hail kissing-comfits, and snow Eringoes.

_Merry Wives_, act v, sc. 5 (20).

Gerard tells us that Eringoes are the candied roots of the Sea Holly (_Eryngium maritimum_), and he gives the recipe for candying them. I am not aware that the Sea Holly is ever now so used, but it is a very handsome plant as it is seen growing on the sea shore, and its fine foliage makes it an ornamental plant for a garden. But as used by Falstaff I am inclined to think that the vegetable he wished for was the Globe Artichoke, which is a near ally of the Eryngium, was a favourite diet in Shakespeare's time, and was reputed to have certain special virtues which are not attributed to the Sea Holly, but which would more accord with Falstaff's character.[88:1] I cannot, however, anywhere find that the Artichoke was called Eringoes.

FOOTNOTES:

[88:1] For these supposed virtues of the Artichoke see Bullein's "Book of Simples."

FENNEL.

(1) _Ophelia._

There's Fennel for you and Columbines.

_Hamlet_, act iv, sc 5 (189).

(2) _Falstaff._

And a' plays at quoits well, and eats conger and Fennel.

_2nd Henry IV_, act ii, sc. 4 (266).

The Fennel was always a plant of high reputation. The Plain of Marathon was so named from the abundance of Fennel (+marathron+) growing on it.[89:1] And like all strongly scented plants, it was supposed by the medical writers to abound in "virtues." Gower, describing the star Pleiades, says--

"Eke his herbe in speciall The vertuous Fenel it is."

_Conf. Aman._, lib. sept. (3, 129. Paulli.)

These virtues cannot be told more pleasantly than by Longfellow--

"Above the lowly plants it towers, The Fennel with its yellow flowers, And in an earlier age than ours Was gifted with the wondrous powers-- Lost vision to restore. It gave men strength and fearless mood, And gladiators fierce and rude Mingled it with their daily food: And he who battled and subdued A wreath of Fennel wore."

"Yet the virtues of Fennel, as thus enumerated by Longfellow, do not comprise either of those attributes of the plant which illustrate the two passages from Shakespeare. The first alludes to it as an emblem of flattery, for which ample authority has been found by the commentators.[89:2] Florio is quoted for the phrase 'Dare finocchio,' _to give fennel_, as meaning _to flatter_. In the second quotation the allusion is to the reputation of Fennel as an inflammatory herb with much the same virtues as are attributed to Eringoes."--Mr. J. F. MARSH in _The Garden_.

The English name was directly derived from its Latin name _Foeniculum_, which may have been given it from its hay-like smell (_foenum_), but this is not certain. We have another English word derived from the Giant Fennel of the South of Europe (_ferula_); this is the ferule, an instrument of punishment for small boys, also adopted from the Latin, the Roman schoolmaster using the stalks of the Fennel for the same purpose as the modern schoolmaster uses the cane.

The early poets looked on the Fennel as an emblem of the early summer--

"Hyt befell yn the month of June When the Fenell hangeth yn toun."

_Libæus Diaconus._(1225).

As a useful plant, the chief use is as a garnishing and sauce for fish. Large quantities of the seed are said to be imported to flavour gin, but this can scarcely be called useful. As ornamental plants, the large Fennels (F. Tingitana, F. campestris, F. glauca, &c.) are very desirable where they can have the necessary room.

FOOTNOTES:

[89:1] "Fennelle or Fenkelle, feniculum maratrum."--_Catholicon Anglicum._

[89:2]

"_Christophers._

No, my _good lord_.

_Count._

Your _good lord_! O, how this smells of Fennel."

BEN JONSON, _The Case Altered_, act ii, sc. 2.

FERN.

_Gadshill._

We have the receipt of Fern-seed--we walk invisible.

_Chamberlain._

Now, by my faith, I think you are more beholding to the night than to Fern-seed for your walking invisible.

_1st Henry IV_, act ii, sc. 1 (95).

There is a fashion in plants as in most other things, and in none is this more curiously shown than in the estimation in which Ferns are and have been held. Now-a-days it is the fashion to admire Ferns, and few would be found bold enough to profess an indifference to them. But it was not always so. Theocritus seems to have admired the Fern--

"Like Fern my tresses o'er my temples streamed."

_Idyll_ xx. (_Calverley._)

"Come here and trample dainty Fern and Poppy blossom."

_Idyll_ v. (_Calverley._)

But Virgil gives it a bad character, speaking of it as "filicem invisam." Horace is still more severe, "neglectis urenda filix innascitur agris." The Anglo-Saxon translation of Boethius spoke contemptuously of the "Thorns, and the Furzes, and the Fern, and all the weeds" (Cockayne). And so it was in Shakespeare's time. Butler spoke of it as the--

"Fern, that vile, unuseful weed, That grows equivocably without seed."

Cowley spoke the opinion of his day as if the plant had neither use nor beauty--

"Nec caulem natura mihi, nec Floris honorem, Nec mihi vel semen dura Noverca dedit-- Nec me sole fovet, nec cultis crescere in hortis Concessum, et Foliis gratia nulla meis-- Herba invisa Deis poteram coeloque videri, Et spurio Terræ nata puerperio."

_Plantarum_, lib. i.

And later still Gilpin, who wrote so much on the beauties of country scenery at the close of the last century, has nothing better to say for Ferns than that they are noxious weeds, to be classed with "Thorns and Briers, and other ditch trumpery." The fact, no doubt, is that Ferns were considered something "uncanny and eerie;" our ancestors could not understand a plant which seemed to them to have neither flower nor seed, and so they boldly asserted it had neither. "This kinde of Ferne," says Lyte in 1587, "beareth neither flowers nor sede, except we shall take for sede the black spots growing on the backsides of the leaves, the whiche some do gather thinking to worke wonders, but to say the trueth it is nothing els but trumperie and superstition." A plant so strange must needs have strange qualities, but the peculiar power attributed to it of making persons invisible arose thus:--It was the age in which the doctrine of signatures was fully believed in; according to which doctrine Nature, in giving particular shapes to leaves and flowers, had thereby plainly taught for what diseases they were specially useful.[91:1] Thus a heart-shaped leaf was for heart disease, a liver-shaped for the liver, a bright-eyed flower was for the eyes, a foot-shaped flower or leaf would certainly cure the gout, and so on; and then when they found a plant which certainly grew and increased, but of which the organs of fructification were invisible, it was a clear conclusion that properly used the plant would confer the gift of invisibility. Whether the people really believed this or not we cannot say,[92:1] but they were quite ready to believe any wonder connected with the plant, and so it was a constant advertisement with the quacks. Even in Addison's time "it was impossible to walk the streets without having an advertisement thrust into your hand of a doctor who had arrived at the knowledge of the Green and Red Dragon, and had discovered the female Fern-seed. Nobody ever knew what this meant" ("Tatler," No. 240). But to name all the superstitions connected with the Fern would take too much space.

The name is expressive; it is a contraction of the Anglo-Saxon _fepern_, and so shows that some of our ancestors marked its feathery form; and its history as a garden plant is worth a few lines. So little has it been esteemed as a garden plant that Mr. J. Smith, the ex-Curator of the Kew Gardens, tells us that in the year 1822 the collection of Ferns at Kew was so extremely poor that "he could not estimate the entire Kew collection of exotic Ferns at that period at more than forty species" (Smith's "Ferns, British and Exotic," introduction). Since that time the steadily increasing admiration of Ferns has caused collectors to send them from all parts of the world, so that in 1866 Mr. Smith was enabled to describe about a thousand species, and now the number must be much larger; and the closer search for Ferns has further brought into notice a very large number of most curious varieties and monstrosities, which it is still more curious to observe are, with very few exceptions, confined to the British species.

FOOTNOTES:

[91:1] See Brown's "Religio Medici," p. ii. 2.

[92:1] It probably was the real belief, as we find it so often mentioned as a positive fact; thus Browne--

"Poor silly fool! thou striv'st in vain to know If I enjoy or love where thou lov'st so; Since my affection ever secret tried Blooms like the Fern, and seeds still unespied."

_Poems_, p. 26 (Sir E. Brydges' edit. 1815).

FIGS.

(1) _Titania._

Feed him with Apricocks and Dewberries, With purple Grapes, green Figs, and Mulberries.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act iii, sc. 1 (169).

(2) _Constance._

And its grandam will Give it a Plum, a Cherry, and a Fig.

_King John_, act ii, sc. 1 (161).

(3) _Guard._

Here is a rural fellow That will not be denied your Highness's presence, He brings you Figs.

_Antony and Cleopatra_, act v, sc. 2 (233).

(4) _1st Guard._

A simple countryman that brought her Figs.

_Ibid._ (342).

_Ditto._

These Fig-leaves Have slime upon them.

_Ibid._, act v, sc. 2 (354).

(5) _Pistol._

When Pistol lies, do this; and Fig me, like The bragging Spaniard.

_2nd Henry IV_, act v, sc. 3 (123).

(6) _Pistol._

Die and be damned, and Figo for thy friendship.

_Fluellen._

It is well.

_Pistol._

The Fig of Spain.

_Henry V_, act iii, sc. 6 (60).

(7) _Pistol._

The Figo for thee, then.

_Ibid._, act iv, sc. 1 (60).

(8) _Iago._

Virtue! a Fig!

_Othello_, act i, sc. 3 (322).

(9) _Iago._

Blessed Fig's end!

_Ibid._, act ii, sc. 1 (256).

(10) _Horner._

I'll pledge you all, and a Fig for Peter.

_2nd Henry IV_, act ii, sc. 3 (66).

(11) _Pistol._

"Convey," the wise it call; "steal!" foh! a Fico for the phrase!

_Merry Wives_, act i, sc. 3 (32).

(12) _Charmian._

O excellent! I love long life better than Figs.

_Antony and Cleopatra_, act i, sc. 2 (32).

In some of these passages (as 5, 6, 7, and perhaps in more) the reference is to a grossly insulting and indecent gesture called "making the fig." It was a most unpleasant custom, which largely prevailed throughout Europe in Shakespeare's time, and on which I need not dwell. It is fully described in Douce's "Illustrations of Shakespeare," i, 492.

In some of the other quotations the reference is simply to the proverbial likeness of a Fig to a matter of the least importance.[94:1] But in the others the dainty fruit, the green Fig, is noticed.

The Fig tree, celebrated from the earliest times for the beauty of its foliage and for its "sweetness and good fruit" (Judges ix. 11), is said to have been introduced into England by the Romans; but the more reliable accounts attribute its introduction to Cardinal Pole, who is said to have planted the Fig tree still living at Lambeth Palace. Botanically, the Fig is of especial interest. The Fig, as we eat it, is neither fruit nor flower, though partaking of both, being really the hollow, fleshy receptacle enclosing a multitude of flowers, which never see the light, yet come to full perfection and ripen their seed. The Fig stands alone in this peculiar arrangement of its flowers, but there are other plants of which we eat the unopened or undeveloped flowers, as the Artichoke, the Cauliflower, the Caper, the Clove, and the Pine Apple.

FOOTNOTES:

[94:1] This proverbial worthlessness of the Fig is of ancient date. Theocritus speaks of +sykinoi andres+, useless men; Horace, "Olim truncus eram ficulnus, inutile lignum;" and Juvenal, "Sterilis mala robora ficus."

FILBERTS.

_Caliban._

I'll bring thee to clustering Filberds.

_Tempest_, act ii, sc. 2(174). (_See_ HAZEL.)

FLAGS.

_Cæsar._

This common body Like to a vagabond Flag upon the stream Goes to and back, lackeying the varying tide, To rot itself with motion.

_Antony and Cleopatra_, act i, sc. 4 (44).

We now commonly call the Iris a Flag, and in Shakespeare's time the Iris pseudoacorus was called the Water Flag, and so this passage might, perhaps, have been placed under Flower-de-luce. But I do not think that the Flower-de-luce proper was ever called a Flag at that time, whereas we know that many plants, especially the Reeds and Bulrushes, were called in a general way Flags. This is the case in the Bible, the language of which is always a safe guide in the interpretation of contemporary literature. The mother of Moses having placed the infant in the ark of Bulrushes, "laid it in the Flags by the river's brink," and the daughter of Pharaoh "saw the ark among the Flags." Job asks, "Can the Flag grow without water?" and Isaiah draws the picture of desolation when "the brooks of defence shall be emptied and dried up, and the Reeds and the Flags shall wither." But in these passages, not only is the original word very loosely translated, but the original word itself was so loosely used that long ago Jerome had said it might mean any marsh plant, _quidquid in palude virens nascitur_. And in the same way I conclude that when Shakespeare named the Flag he meant any long-leaved waterside plant that is swayed to and fro by the stream, and that therefore this passage might very properly have been placed under Rushes.

FLAX.

(1) _Ford._

What, a hodge-pudding? a bag of Flax?

_Merry Wives_, act v, sc. 5 (159).

(2) _Clifford._

Beauty that the tyrant oft reclaims Shall to my flaming wrath be oil and Flax.

_2nd Henry VI_, act v, sc. 2 (54).

(3) _Sir Toby._

Excellent; it hangs like Flax in a distaff.

_Twelfth Night_, act i, sc. 3 (108).

(4) _3rd Servant._

Go thou: I'll fetch some Flax and white of eggs To apply to his bleeding face.[95:1]

_King Lear_, act iii, sc. 7 (106).

(5) _Ophelia._

His beard was as white as snow, All Flaxen was his poll.

_Hamlet_, act iv, sc. 5 (195).

(6) _Leontes._

My wife deserves a name As rank as any Flax-wench.

_Winter's Tale_, act i, sc. 2 (276).

(7) _Emilia._

It could No more be hid in him, than fire in Flax.

_Two Noble Kinsmen_, act v, sc. 3 (113).

The Flax of commerce (_Linum usitatissimum_) is not a true native, though Turner said: "I have seen flax or lynt growyng wilde in Sommerset shyre" ("Herbal," part ii. p. 39); but it takes kindly to the soil, and soon becomes naturalized in the neighbourhood of any Flax field or mill. We have, however, three native Flaxes in England, of which the smallest, the Fairy Flax (_L. catharticum_), is one of the most graceful ornaments of our higher downs and hills.[96:1] The Flax of commerce, which is the plant referred to by Shakespeare, is supposed to be a native of Egypt, and we have early notice of it in the Book of Exodus; and the microscope has shown that the cere-cloths of the most ancient Egyptian mummies are made of linen. It was very early introduced into England, and the spinning of Flax was the regular occupation of the women of every household, from the mistress downwards, so that even queens are represented in the old illuminations in the act of spinning, and "the spinning-wheel was a necessary implement in every household, from the palace to the cottage."--WRIGHT, _Domestic Manners_. The occupation is now almost gone, driven out by machinery, but it has left its mark on our language, at least on our legal language, which acknowledges as the only designation of an unmarried woman that she is "a spinster."

A crop of Flax is one of the most beautiful, from the rich colour of the flowers resting on their dainty stalks. But it is also most useful; from it we get linen, linseed oil, oilcake, and linseed-meal; nor do its virtues end there, for "Sir John Herschel tells us the surprising fact that old linen rags will, when treated with sulphuric acid, yield more than their own weight of sugar. It is something even to have lived in days when our worn-out napkins may possibly reappear on our tables in the form of sugar."--LADY WILKINSON.

As garden plants the Flaxes are all ornamental. There are about eighty species, some herbaceous and some shrubby, and of almost all colours, and in most of the species the colours are remarkably bright and clear. There is no finer blue than in L. usitatissimum, no finer yellow than in L. trigynum, or finer scarlet than in L. grandiflorum.

FOOTNOTES:

[95:1] "_Juniper._ Go get white of egg and a little Flax, and close the breach of the head; it is the most conducible thing that can be."--BEN JONSON, _The Case Altered_, act ii, sc. 4.

[96:1] "From the abundant harvests of this elegant weed on the upland pastures, prepared and manufactured by supernatural skill, 'the good people' were wont, in the olden time, to procure the necessary supplies of linen!"--JOHNSTON.

FLOWER-DE-LUCE.

(1) _Perdita._

Lilies of all kinds, The Flower-de-luce being one.

_Winters Tale_, act iv, sc. 4 (126).

(2) _K. Henry._

What sayest thou, my fair Flower-de-luce?

_Henry V_, act v, sc. 2 (323).

(3) _Messenger._

Cropped are the Flower-de-luces in your arms; Of England's coat one half is cut away.

_1st Henry VI_, act i, sc. 1 (80).

(4) _Pucelle._

I am prepared; here is my keen-edged sword Deck'd with five Flower-de-luces on each side.

_Ibid._, act i, sc. 2 (98).

(5) _York._

A sceptre shall it have, have I a soul, On which I'll toss the Flower-de-luce of France.

_2nd Henry VI_, act v, sc. 1 (10).

Out of these five passages four relate to the Fleur-de-luce as the cognizance of France, and much learned ink has been spilled in the endeavour to find out what flower, if any, was intended to be represented, so that Mr. Planché says that "next to the origin of heraldry itself, perhaps nothing connected with it has given rise to so much controversy as the origin of this celebrated charge." It has been at various times asserted to be an Iris, a Lily, a sword-hilt, a spearhead, and a toad, or to be simply the Fleur de St. Louis. _Adhuc sub judice lis est_--and it is never likely to be satisfactorily settled. I need not therefore dwell on it, especially as my present business is to settle not what the Fleur-de-luce meant in the arms of France, but what it meant in Shakespeare's writings. But here the same difficulty at once meets us, some writers affirming stoutly that it is a Lily, others as stoutly that it is an Iris. For the Lily theory there are the facts that Shakespeare calls it one of the Lilies, and that the other way of spelling it is Fleur-de-lys. I find also a strong confirmation of this in the writings of St. Francis de Sales (contemporary with Shakespeare). "Charity," he says, "comprehends the seven gifts of the Holy Ghost, and resembles a beautiful Flower-de-luce, which has six leaves whiter than snow, and in the middle the pretty little golden hammers" ("Philo," book xi., Mulholland's translation). This description will in no way fit the Iris, but it may very well be applied to the White Lily. Chaucer, too, seems to connect the Fleur-de-luce with the Lily--

"Her nekke was white as the Flour de Lis."

These are certainly strong authorities for saying that the Flower-de-luce is the Lily. But there are as strong or stronger on the other side. Spenser separates the Lilies from the Flower-de-luces in his pretty lines--

"Strow mee the grounde with Daffadown-Dillies, And Cowslips, and Kingcups, and lovéd Lillies; The Pretty Pawnce And the Chevisaunce Shall match with the fayre Floure Delice."

_Shepherd's Calendar._

Ben Jonson separates them in the same way--

"Bring rich Carnations, Flower-de-luces, Lillies."

Lord Bacon also separates them: "In April follow the double White Violet, the Wall-flower, the Stock-Gilliflower, the Cowslip, the Flower-de-luces, and Lilies of all Natures;" and so does Drayton--

"The Lily and the Flower de Lis For colours much contenting."

_Nymphal V._

In heraldry also the Fleur-de-lis and the Lily are two distinct bearings. Then, from the time of Turner in 1568, through Gerard and Parkinson to Miller, all the botanical writers identify the Iris as the plant named, and with this judgment most of our modern writers agree.[99:1] We may, therefore, assume that Shakespeare meant the Iris as the flower given by Perdita, and we need not be surprised at his classing it among the Lilies. Botanical classification was not very accurate in his day, and long after his time two such celebrated men as Redouté and De Candolle did not hesitate to include in the "Liliacæ," not only Irises, but Daffodils, Tulips, Fritillaries, and even Orchids.

What Iris Shakespeare especially alluded to it is useless to inquire. We have two in England that are indigenous--one the rich golden-yellow (_I. pseudacorus_), which in some favourable positions, with its roots in the water of a brook, is one of the very handsomest of the tribe; the other the Gladwyn (_I. foetidissima_), with dull flowers and strong-smelling leaves, but with most handsome scarlet fruit, which remain on the plant and show themselves boldly all through the winter and early spring. Of other sorts there is a large number, so that the whole family, according to the latest account by Mr. Baker, of Kew, contains ninety-six distinct species besides varieties. They come from all parts of the world, from the Arctic Circle to the South of China; they are of all colours, from the pure white Iris Florentina to the almost black I. Susiana; and of all sizes, from a few inches to four feet or more. They are mostly easy of cultivation and increase readily, so that there are few plants better suited for the hardy garden or more ornamental.

FOOTNOTES:

[99:1] G. Fletcher's Flower-de-luce was certainly the Iris--

"The Flower-de-Luce and the round specks of dew That hung upon the azure leaves did shew Like twinkling stars that sparkle in the evening blue."

The "leaves" here must be the petals.

FUMITER, FUMITORY.

(1) _Cordelia._

Crown'd with rank Fumiter and Furrow-weeds.

_King Lear_, act iv, sc. 4 (3). (_See_ CUCKOO-FLOWERS.)

(2) _Burgundy._

Her fallow leas The Darnel, Hemlock, and rank Fumitory Doth root upon.

_Henry V_, act v, sc. 2 (44).

Of Fumitories we have five species in England, all of them weeds in cultivated grounds and in hedgerows. None of them can be considered garden plants, but they are closely allied to the Corydalis, of which there are several pretty species, and to the very handsome Dielytras, of which one species--D. spectabilis--ranks among the very handsomest of our hardy herbaceous plants. How the plant acquired its name of Fumitory--_fume-terre_, earth-smoke--is not very satisfactorily explained, though many explanations have been given; but that the name was an ancient one we know from the interesting Stockholm manuscript of the eleventh century published by Mr. J. Pettigrew, and of which a few lines are worth quoting. (The poem is published in the "Archæologia," vol. xxx.)--

"Fumiter is erbe, I say, Yt spryngyth [=i] April et in May, In feld, in town, in yard, et gate, Yer lond is fat and good in state, Dun red is his flour Ye erbe smek lik in colowur."

FURZE.

(1) _Ariel._

So I charm'd their ears, That calf-like they my lowing follow'd through Tooth'd Briers, sharp Furzes, pricking Goss, and Thorns.

_Tempest_, act iv, sc. 1 (178).

(2) _Gonzalo._

Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground, long Heath, brown Furze, anything.

_Ibid._, act i, sc. 1 (70).

We now call the Ulex Europæus either Gorse, or Furze, or Whin; but in the sixteenth century I think that the Furze and Gorse were distinguished (_see_ GORSE), and that the brown Furze was the Ulex. It is a most beautiful plant, and with its golden blossoms and richly scented flowers is the glory of our wilder hill-sides. It is especially a British plant, for though it is found in other parts of Europe, and even in the Azores and Canaries, yet I believe it is nowhere found in such abundance or in such beauty as in England. Gerard says, "The greatest and highest that I did ever see do grow about Excester, in the West Parts of England;" and those that have seen it in Devonshire will agree with him. It seems to luxuriate in the damp, mild climate of Devonshire, and to see it in full flower as it covers the low hills that abut upon the Channel between Ilfracombe and Clovelly is a sight to be long remembered. It is, indeed, a plant that we may well be proud of. Linnæus could only grow it in a greenhouse, and there is a well-known story of Dillenius that when he first saw the Furze in blossom in England he fell on his knees and thanked God for sparing his life to see so beautiful a part of His creation. The story may be apocryphal, but we have a later testimony from another celebrated traveller who had seen the glories of tropical scenery, and yet was faithful to the beauties of the wild scenery of England. Mr. Wallace bears this testimony: "I have never seen in the tropics such brilliant masses of colour as even England can show in her Furze-clad commons, 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 Hawthorns and Crab trees, our Holly and Mountain Ash, our Broom, Foxgloves, Primroses, and purple Vetches, which clothe with gay colours the length and breadth of our land" ("Malayan Archipelago," ii. 296).

As a garden shrub the Furze may be grown either as a single lawn shrub or in the hedge or shrubbery. Everywhere it will be handsome both in its single and double varieties, and as it bears the knife well, it can be kept within limits. The upright Irish form also makes an elegant shrub, but does not flower so freely as the typical plant.

GARLICK.

(1) _Bottom._

And, most clear actors, eat no Onions nor Garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act iv, sc. 2 (42).

(2) _Lucio._

He would mouth with a beggar, though she smelt brown bread and Garlic.

_Measure for Measure_, act iii, sc. 2 (193).

(3) _Hotspur._

I had rather live With cheese and Garlic in a windmill.

_1st Henry IV_, act iii, sc. 1 (161).

(4) _Menenius._

You that stood so much Upon the voice of occupation, and The breath of Garlic-eaters.

_Coriolanus_, act iv, sc. 6 (96).

(5) _Dorcas._

Mopsa must be your mistress; marry, Garlic to mend her kissing with.

_Winter's Tale_, act iv, sc. 4 (162).

There is something almost mysterious in the Garlick that it should be so thoroughly acceptable, almost indispensable, to many thousands, while to others it is so horribly offensive as to be unbearable. The Garlick of Egypt was one of the delicacies that the Israelites looked back to with fond regret, and we know from Herodotus that it was the daily food of the Egyptian labourer; yet, in later times, the Mohammedan legend recorded that "when Satan stepped out from the Garden of Eden after the fall of man, Garlick sprung up from the spot where he placed his left foot, and Onions from that which his right foot touched, on which account, perhaps, Mohammed habitually fainted at the sight of either." It was the common food also of the Roman labourer, but Horace could only wonder at the "dura messorum illia" that could digest the plant "cicutis allium nocentius." It was, and is the same with its medical virtues. According to some it was possessed of every virtue,[102:1] so that it had the name of Poor Man's Treacle (the word treacle not having its present meaning, but being the Anglicised form of theriake, or heal-all[103:1]); while, on the other hand, Gerard affirmed "it yieldeth to the body no nourishment at all; it ingendreth naughty and sharpe bloud."

Bullein describes it quaintly: "It is a grosse kinde of medicine, verye unpleasant for fayre Ladies and tender Lilly Rose colloured damsels which often time profereth sweet breathes before gentle wordes, but both would do very well" ("Book of Simples"). Yet if we could only divest it of its evil smell, the wild Wood Garlick would rank among the most beautiful of our British plants. Its wide leaves are very similar to those of the Lily of the Valley, and its starry flowers are of the very purest white. But it defies picking, and where it grows it generally takes full possession, so that I have known several woods--especially on the Cotswold Hills--that are to be avoided when the plant is in flower. The woods are closely carpeted with them, and every step you take brings out their foetid odour. There are many species grown in the gardens, some of which are even very sweet smelling (as A. odorum and A. fragrans); but these are the exceptions, and even these have the Garlick scent in their leaves and roots. Of the rest many are very pretty and worth growing, but they are all more or less tainted with the evil habits of the family.

FOOTNOTES:

[102:1] "You (_i.e._, citizens) are still sending to the apothecaries, and still crying out to 'fetch Master Doctor to me;' but our (_i.e._, countrymen's) apothecary's shop is our garden full of pot herbs, and our doctor is a good clove of Garlic."--_The Great Frost of January, 1608._

[103:1]

"Crist, which that is to every harm triacle."

CHAUCER, _Man of Lawes Tale_.

"Treacle was there anone forthe brought."

_Le Morte Arthur_, 864.

GILLIFLOWERS, _see_ CARNATIONS.

GINGER.

(1) _Clown._

I must have Saffron to colour the Warden pies--Mace--Dates? none, that's out of my note; Nutmegs, seven--a race or two of Ginger, but that I may beg.

_Winter's Tale_, act iv, sc. 3 (48).

(2) _Sir Toby._

Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale.

_Clown._

Yes, by St. Anne, and Ginger shall be hot i' the mouth too.

_Twelfth Night_, act ii, sc. 3 (123).

(3) _Pompey._

First, here's Young Master Rash, he's in for a commodity of brown paper and old Ginger, nine score and seventeen pounds, of which he made five marks ready money; marry, then, Ginger was not much in request, for the old women were all dead.

_Measure for Measure_, act iv, sc. 3 (4).

(4) _Salanio._

I would she were as lying a gossip in that as ever knapped Ginger.

_Merchant of Venice_, act iii, sc. 1 (9).

(5) _2nd Carrier._

I have a gammon of bacon and two razes of Ginger to be delivered as far as Charing Cross.

_1st Henry IV_, act ii, sc. 1 (26).

(6) _Orleans._

He's of the colour of the Nutmeg.

_Dauphin._

And of the heat of the Ginger.

_Henry V_, act iii, sc. 7 (20).

(7) _Julia._

What is't you took up so Gingerly?

_Two Gentlemen of Verona_, act i, sc. 2 (70).

(8) _Costard._

An I had but one penny in the world, thou should'st have it to buy Ginger-bread.

_Love's Labour's Lost_, act v, sc. 1 (74).

(9) _Hotspur._

Swear me, Kate, like a lady as thou art, A good mouth-filling oath, and leave "in sooth," And such protest of pepper Ginger-bread To velvet-guards and Sunday-citizens.

_1st Henry IV_, act iii, sc. 1 (258).

Ginger was well known both to the Greeks and Romans. It was imported from Arabia, together with its name, Zingiberri, which it has retained, with little variation, in all languages.

When it was first imported into England is not known, but probably by the Romans, for it occurs as a common ingredient in many of the Anglo-Saxon medical recipes. Russell, in the "Boke of Nurture," mentions several kinds of Ginger; as green and white, "colombyne, valadyne, and Maydelyn." In Shakespeare's time it was evidently very common and cheap.

It is produced from the roots of Zingiber officinale, a member of the large and handsome family of the Ginger-worts. The family contains some of the most beautiful of our greenhouse plants, as the Hedychiums, Alpinias, and Mantisias; and, though entirely tropical, most of the species are of easy cultivation in England. Ginger is very easily reared in hotbeds, and I should think it very probable that it may have been so grown in Shakespeare's time. Gerard attempted to grow it, but he naturally failed, by trying to grow it in the open ground as a hardy plant; yet "it sprouted and budded forth greene leaves in my garden in the heate of somer;" and he tells us that plants were sent him by "an honest and expert apothecarie, William Dries, of Antwerp," and "that the same had budded and grown in the said Dries' garden."

GOOSEBERRIES.

_Falstaff._

All the other gifts appertinent to man, as the malice of this age shapes them, are not worth a Gooseberry.

_2nd Henry IV_, act i, sc. 2 (194).

The Gooseberry is probably a native of the North of England, but Turner said (s.v. _uva crispa_) "it groweth onely that I have sene in England, in gardines, but I have sene it in Germany abrode in the fieldes amonge other busshes."

The name has nothing to do with the goose. Dr. Prior has satisfactorily shown that the word is a corruption of "Crossberry." By the writers of Shakespeare's time, and even later, it was called Feaberry (Gerard, Lawson, and others), and in one of the many books on the Plague published in the sixteenth century, the patient is recommended to eat "thepes, or goseberries" ("A Counsell against the Sweate," fol. 23).

GORSE OR GOSS.

_Ariel._

Tooth'd Briers, sharp Furzes, pricking Goss, and Thorns.

_Tempest_, act iv, sc. 1 (180).

In speaking of the Furze (which see), I said that in Shakespeare's time the Furze and Gorse were probably distinguished, though now the two names are applied to the same plant. "In the 15th Henry VI. (1436), license was given to Humfrey, Duke of Gloucester, to inclose 200 acres of land--pasture, wode, hethe, vrises,[106:1] and gorste (_bruere, et jampnorum_), and to form thereof a Park at Greenwich."--_Rot. Parl._ iv. 498.[106:2] This proves that the "Gorst" was different from the "Vrise," and it may very likely have been the Petty Whin. "Pricking Goss," however, may be only a generic term, like Bramble and Brier, for any wild prickly plant.

FOOTNOTES:

[106:1] There is a hill near Lansdown (Bath) now called Frizen or Freezing Hill. Within memory of man it was covered with Gorse. This was probably the origin of the name, "Vrisen Hill."

[106:2] "Promptorium Parvulorum," p. 162, note.

GOURD.

_Pistol._

For Gourd and fullam holds.

_Merry Wives_, act i, sc. 3 (94).

I merely mention this to point out that "Gourd," though probably originally derived from the fruit, is not the fruit here, but is an instrument of gambling. The fruit, however, was well known in Shakespeare's time, and was used as the type of intense greenness--

"Whose coerule stream, rombling in pebble-stone, Crept under Moss, as green as any Gourd."

SPENSER, _Virgil's Gnat_.

GRACE, _see_ RUE.

GRAPES, _see_ VINES.

GRASSES.

(1) _Gonzalo._

How lush and lusty the Grass looks! how green!

_Tempest_, act ii, sc. 1 (52).

(2) _Iris._

Here, on this Grass-plot, in this very place To come and sport.

_Ibid._, act iv, sc. 1 (73).

(3) _Ceres._

Why hath thy Queen Summon'd me hither to this short-grass'd green?

_Ibid._ (82).

(4) _Lysander._

When Phoebe doth behold Her silver visage in the watery glass, Decking with liquid pearl the bladed Grass.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act i, sc. 1 (209).

(5) _King._

Say to her, we have measured many miles To tread a measure with her on this Grass.

_Boyet._

They say, that they have measured many miles To tread a measure with her on the Grass.

_Love's Labour's Lost_, act v, sc. 2 (184).

(6) _Clown._

I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir, I have not much skill in Grass.

_All's Well that Ends Well_, act iv, sc. 5 (21).

(7) _Luciana._

If thou art changed to aught, 'tis to an ass.

_Dromio of Syracuse._

'Tis true; she rides me, and I long for Grass.

_Comedy of Errors_, act ii, sc. 2 (201).

(8) _Bolingbroke._

Here we march Upon the Grassy carpet of the plain.

_Richard II_, act iii, sc. 3 (49).

(9) _King Richard._

And bedew Her pasture's Grass with faithful English blood.

_Ibid._ (100).

(10) _Ely._

Grew like the summer Grass, fastest by night, Unseen, yet crescive in his faculty.

_Henry V_, act i, sc. 1 (65).

(11) _King Henry._

Mowing like Grass Your fresh-fair virgins and your flowering infants.

_Ibid._, act iii, sc. 3 (13).

(12) _Grandpre._

And in their pale dull mouths the gimmal bit Lies foul with chew'd Grass, still and motionless.

_Henry V_, act iv, sc. 2 (49).

(13) _Suffolk._

Though standing naked on a mountain top Where biting cold would never let Grass grow.

_2nd Henry VI_, act iii, sc. 2 (336).

(14) _Cade._

All the realm shall be in common; and in Cheapside shall my palfrey go to Grass.

_Ibid._, act iv, sc. 2 (74).

(15) _Cade._

Wherefore on a brick wall have I climbed into this garden, to see if I can eat Grass or pick a Sallet another while, which is not amiss to cool a man's stomach this hot weather.

_Ibid._, act iv, sc. 10 (7).

(16) _Cade._

If I do not leave you all as dead as a door-nail, I pray God I may never eat Grass more.

_Ibid._ (42).

(17) _1st Bandit._

We cannot live on Grass, on berries, water, As beasts and birds and fishes.

_Timon of Athens_, act iv, sc. 3 (425).

(18) _Saturninus._

These tidings nip me, and I hang the head As Flowers with frost or Grass beat down with storms.

_Titus Andronicus_, act iv, sc. 4 (70).

(19) _Hamlet._

Ay but, sir, "while the Grass grows"--the proverb is something musty.

_Hamlet_, act iii, sc. 2 (358).

(20) _Ophelia._

He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone; At his head a Grass-green turf, At his heels a stone.

_Ibid._, act iv, sc. 5 (29).

(21) _Salarino._

I should be still Plucking the Grass to know where sits the wind.

_Merchant of Venice_, act i, sc. 1 (17).

In and before Shakespeare's time Grass was used as a general term for all plants. Thus Chaucer--

"And every grass that groweth upon roote Sche schal eek know, to whom it will do boote Al be his woundes never so deep and wyde."

_The Squyeres Tale._

It is used in the same general way in the Bible, "the Grass of the field."

In the whole range of botanical studies the accurate study of the Grasses is, perhaps, the most difficult as the genus is the most extensive, for Grasses are said to "constitute, perhaps, a twelfth part of the described species of flowering plants, and at least nine-tenths of the number of individuals comprising the vegetation of the world" (Lindley), so that a full study of the Grasses may almost be said to be the work of a lifetime. But Shakespeare was certainly no such student of Grasses: in all these passages Grass is only mentioned in a generic manner, without any reference to any particular Grass. The passages in which hay is mentioned, I have not thought necessary to quote.

HAREBELL.

_Arviragus._

Thou shalt not lack The flower that's like thy face, pale Primrose, nor The azured Harebell, like thy veins.

_Cymbeline_, act iv, sc. 2 (220). (_See_ EGLANTINE.)

The Harebell of Shakespeare is undoubtedly the Wild Hyacinth (_Scilla nutans_), the "sanguine flower inscribed with woe" of Milton's "Lycidas," though we must bear in mind that the name is applied differently in various parts of the island; thus "the Harebell of Scotch writers is the Campanula, and the Bluebell, so celebrated in Scottish song, is the Wild Hyacinth or Scilla; while in England the same names are used conversely, the Campanula being the Bluebell and the Wild Hyacinth the Harebell" ("Poets' Pleasaunce")--but this will only apply in poetry; in ordinary language, at least in the South of England, the Wild Hyacinth is the Bluebell, and is the plant referred to by Shakespeare as the Harebell.

It is one of the chief ornaments of our woods,[109:1] growing in profusion wherever it establishes itself, and being found of various colours--pink, white, and blue. As a garden flower it may well be introduced into shrubberies, but as a border plant it cannot compete with its rival relation, the Hyacinthus orientalis, which is the parent of all the fine double and many coloured Hyacinths in which the florists have delighted for the last two centuries.

FOOTNOTES:

[109:1] "'Dust of sapphire,' writes my friend Dr. John Brown to me of the wood Hyacinths of Scotland in the spring; yes, that is so--each bud more beautiful itself than perfectest jewel."--RUSKIN, _Proserpina_, p. 73.

HARLOCKS.

_Cordelia._

Crown'd with rank Fumiter and Furrow-weeds, With Harlocks, Hemlock, Nettles, Cuckoo-flowers.

_King Lear_, act iv, sc. 4 (3). (_See_ CUCKOO-FLOWERS.)

I cannot do better than follow Dr. Prior on this word: "Harlock, as usually printed in 'King Lear' and in Drayton, ecl. 4--

'The Honeysuckle, the Harlocke, The Lily and the Lady-smocke,'

is a word that does not occur in the Herbals, and which the commentators have supposed to be a misprint for Charlock. There can be little doubt that Hardock is the correct reading, and that the plant meant is the one now called Burdock." Schmidt also adopts Burdock as the right interpretation.

HAWTHORNS.

(1) _Rosalind._

There's a man hangs odes upon Hawthorns and elegies on Brambles.

_As You Like It_, act iii, sc. 2 (379).

(2) _Quince._

This green plot shall be our stage, this Hawthorn-brake our tiring house.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act iii, sc. 1 (3).

(3) _Helena._

Your tongue's sweet air, More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear, When Wheat is green, when Hawthorn-buds appear.

_Ibid._, act i, sc. 1 (183).

(4) _Falstaff._

I cannot cog and say thou art this and that, like a many of these lisping Hawthorn-buds.

_Merry Wives_, act iii, sc. 3 (76).

(5) _K. Henry._

Gives not the Hawthorn-bush a sweeter shade To shepherds looking on their silly sheep, Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy To kings that fear their subjects' treachery? O yes, it doth; a thousand-fold it doth.

_3rd Henry VI_, act ii, sc. 5 (42).

(6) _Edgar._

Through the sharp Hawthorn blows the cold wind (_bis_).

_King Lear_, act iii, sc. 4 (47 and 102).

(7) _Arcite._

Againe betake you to yon Hawthorne house.

_Two Noble Kinsmen_, act iii, sc. 1 (90).

Under its many names of Albespeine, Whitethorn, Haythorn or Hawthorn, May, and Quickset, this tree has ever been a favourite with all lovers of the country.

"Among the many buds proclaiming May, Decking the field in holiday array, Striving who shall surpass in braverie, Mark the faire blooming of the Hawthorn tree, Who, finely cloathed in a robe of white, Fills full the wanton eye with May's delight. Yet for the braverie that she is in Doth neither handle card nor wheel to spin, Nor changeth robes but twice; is never seen In other colours but in white or green."

such is Browne's advice in his "Britannia's Pastorals" (ii. 2). He, like the other early poets, clearly loved the tree for its beauty; and in picturesque beauty the Hawthorn yields to none, when it can be seen in some sheltered valley growing with others of its kind, and allowed to grow unpruned, for then in the early summer it is literally a sheet of white, yet beautifully relieved by the tender green of the young leaves, and by the bright crimson of the anthers, and loaded with a scent that is most delicate and refreshing. But not only for its beauty is the Hawthorn a favourite tree, but also for its many pleasant associations--it is essentially the May tree, the tree that tells that winter is really past, and that summer has fairly begun. Hear Spenser--

"Thilke same season, when all is yclade With pleasaunce; the ground with Grasse, the woods With greene leaves, the bushes with blooming buds, Youngthes folke now flocken in everywhere To gather May-baskets and smelling Brere; And home they hasten the postes to dight, And all the kirk-pillours eare day-light, With Hawthorne-buds, and sweet Eglantine, And girlondes of Roses, and soppes-in-wine."

_Shepherd's Calendar--May._

Yet in spite of its pretty name, and in spite of the poets, the Hawthorn now seldom flowers till June, and I should suppose it is never in flower on May Day, except perhaps in Devonshire and Cornwall; and it is very doubtful if it ever were so found, except in these southern counties, though some fancy that the times of flowering of several of our flowers are changed, and in some instances largely changed. But "it was an old custom in Suffolk, in most of the farmhouses, that any servant who could bring in a branch of Hawthorn in full blossom on the 1st of May was entitled to a dish of cream for breakfast. This custom is now disused, not so much from the reluctance of the masters to give the reward, as from the inability of the servants to find the Whitethorn in flower."--BRAND'S _Antiquities_.[112:1] Even those who might not see the beauty of an old Thorn tree, have found its uses as one of the very few trees that will grow thick in the most exposed places, and so give pleasant shade and shelter in places where otherwise but little shade and shelter could be found.

"Every shepherd tells his tale Under the Hawthorn in the dale."--MILTON.

And "at Hesket, in Cumberland, yearly on St. Barnabas' Day, by the highway side under a Thorn tree is kept the court for the whole forest of Englewood."--_History of Westmoreland._

The Thorn may well be admitted as a garden shrub either in its ordinary state, or in its beautiful double white, red, and pink varieties, and those who like to grow curious trees should not omit the Glastonbury Thorn, which flowers at the ordinary time, and bears fruit, but also buds and flowers again in winter, showing at the same time the new flowers and the older fruit.

Nor must we omit to mention that the Whitethorn is one of the trees that claims to have been used for the sacred Crown of Thorns. It is most improbable that it was so, in fact almost certain that it was not; but it was a mediæval belief, as Sir John Mandeville witnesses: "Then was our Lord yled into a gardyn, and there the Jewes scorned hym, and maden hym a crowne of the branches of the Albiespyne, that is Whitethorn, that grew in the same gardyn, and setten yt upon hys heved. And therefore hath the Whitethorn many virtues. For he that beareth a branch on hym thereof, no thundre, ne no maner of tempest may dere hym, ne in the howse that it is ynne may non evil ghost enter."

And we may finish the Hawthorn with a short account of its name, which is interesting:--"Haw," or "hay," is the same word as "hedge" ("sepes, id est, _haies_," John de Garlande), and so shows the great antiquity of this plant as used for English hedges. In the north, "haws" are still called "haigs;" but whether Hawthorn was first applied to the fruit or the hedge, whether the hedge was so called because it was made of the Thorn tree that bears the haws, or whether the fruit was so named because it was borne on the hedge tree, is a point on which etymologists differ.

FOOTNOTES:

[112:1] "Gilbert White in his 'Naturalists' Calendar' as the result of observations taken from 1768 to 1793 puts down the flowering of the Hawthorn as occurring in different years upon dates so widely apart as the twentieth of April and the eleventh of June."--MILNER'S _Country Pleasures_, p. 83.

HAZEL.

(1) _Mercutio._

Her [Queen Mab's] chariot is an empty Hazel-nut Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers.

_Romeo and Juliet_, act i, sc. 4 (67).

(2) _Petruchio._

Kate like the Hazel twig Is straight and slender and as brown in hue As Hazel-nuts and sweeter than the kernels.

_Taming of the Shrew_, act ii, sc. 1 (255).

(3) _Caliban._

I'll bring thee to clustering Filberts.

_Tempest_, act ii, sc. 2 (174).

(4) _Touchstone._

Sweetest Nut hath sourest rind, Such a Nut is Rosalind.

_As You Like It_, act iii, sc. 2 (115).

(5) _Celia._

For his verity in love I do think him as concave as a covered goblet or a worm-eaten Nut.

_Ibid._, act iii, sc. 4 (25).

(6) _Lafeu._

Believe this of me, there can be no kernel in this light Nut.

_All's Well that Ends Well_, act ii, sc. 5 (46).

(7) _Mercutio._

Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking Nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast Hazel eyes.

_Romeo and Juliet_, act iii, sc. 1 (20).

(8) _Thersites._

Hector shall have a great catch, if he knock out either of your brains; a' were as good crack a fusty Nut with no kernel.

_Troilus and Cressida_, act ii, sc. 1 (109).

(9) _Gonzalo._

I'll warrant him for drowning; though the ship were no stronger than a Nut-shell.

_Tempest_, act i, sc. 1 (49).

(10) _Titania._

I have a venturous fairy that shall seek The squirrel's hoard, and fetch thee new Nuts.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act iv, sc. 1 (40).

(11) _Hamlet._

O God, I could be bounded in a Nut-shell and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.

_Hamlet_, act ii, sc. 2 (260).

(12) _Dromio of Syracuse._

Some devils ask but the parings of one's nail, A Rush, a hair, a drop of blood, a pin, A Nut, a Cherry-stone.

_Comedy of Errors_, act iv, sc. 3 (72).

Dr. Prior has decided that "'Filbert' is a barbarous compound of _phillon_ or _feuille_, a leaf, and _beard_, to denote its distinguishing peculiarity, the leafy involucre projecting beyond the nut." But in the times before Shakespeare the name was more poetically said to be derived from the nymph Phyllis. Nux Phyllidos is its name in the old vocabularies, and Gower ("Confessio Amantis") tells us why--

"Phyllis in the same throwe Was shape into a Nutte-tree, That alle men it might see; And after Phyllis philliberde, This tre was cleped in the yerde"

(Lib. quart.),

and so Spenser spoke of it as "'Phillis' philbert" (Elegy 17).[115:1]

The Nut, the Filbert, and the Cobnut, are all botanically the same, and the two last were cultivated in England long before Shakespeare's time, not only for the fruit, but also, and more especially, for the oil.

There is a peculiarity in the growth of the Nut that is worth the notice of the botanical student. The male blossoms, or catkins (anciently called "agglettes or blowinges"), are mostly produced at the ends of the year's shoots, while the pretty little crimson female blossoms are produced close to the branch; they are completely sessile or unstalked. Now in most fruit trees, when a flower is fertilized, the fruit is produced exactly in the same place, with respect to the main tree, that the flower occupied; a Peach or Apricot, for instance, rests upon the branch which bore the flower. But in the Nut a different arrangement prevails. As soon as the flower is fertilized it starts away from the parent branch; a fresh branch is produced, bearing leaves and the Nut or Nuts at the end, so that the Nut is produced several inches away from the spot on which the flower originally was. I know of no other tree that produces its fruit in this way, nor do I know what special benefit to the plant arises from this arrangement.

Much folk-lore has gathered round the Hazel tree and the Nuts. The cracking of Nuts, with much fortune-telling connected therewith, was the favourite amusement on All Hallow's Eve (Oct. 31), so that the Eve was called Nutcrack Night. I believe the custom still exists; it certainly has not been very long abolished, for the Vicar of Wakefield and his neighbours "religiously cracked Nuts on All Hallow's Eve." And in many places "an ancient custom prevailed of going a Nutting on Holy Rood Day (Sept. 14), which it was esteemed quite unlucky to omit."--FORSTER.[116:1]

A greater mystery connected with the Hazel is the divining rod, for the discovery of water and metals. This has always by preference been a forked Hazel-rod, though sometimes other rods are substituted. The belief in its power dates from a very early period, and is by no means extinct. The divining-rod is said to be still used in Cornwall, and firmly believed in; nor has this belief been confined to the uneducated. Even Linnæus confessed himself to be half a convert to it, and learned treatises have been written accepting the facts, and accounting for them by electricity or some other subtle natural agency. Most of us, however, will rather agree with Evelyn's cautious verdict, that the virtues attributed to the forked stick "made out so solemnly by the attestation of magistrates, and divers other learned and credible persons, who have critically examined matters of fact, is certainly next to a miracle, and requires a strong faith."

FOOTNOTES:

[115:1] "Hic fullus--a fylberd-tre."--_Nominale_, 15th cent.

"Fylberde, notte--Fillum."

"Filberde, tre--Phillis."--_Promptorium Parvulorum._

"The Filbyrdes hangyng to the ground."--_Squyr of Lowe Degre_ (37).

[116:1] See a long account of the connection of nuts with All Hallow's Eve in Hanson, "Med. ævi Calend." i. 363.

HEATH.

_Gonzalo._

Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground, long Heath, brown Furze, anything.

_Tempest_, act i, sc. 1 (70).

There are other passages in which the word Heath occurs in Shakespeare, but in none else is the flower referred to; the other references are to an open heath or common. And in this place no special Heath can be selected, unless by "long Heath" we suppose him to have meant the Ling (_Calluna vulgaris_). And this is most probable, for so Lyte calls it. "There is in this countrie two kindes of Heath, one which beareth the flowres alongst the stemmes, and is called Long Heath." But it is supposed by some that the correct reading is "Ling, Heath," &c., and in that case Heath will be a generic word, meaning any of the British species (_see_ LING). Of British species there are five, and wherever they exist they are dearly prized as forming a rich element of beauty in our landscapes. They are found all over the British Islands, and they seem to be quite indifferent as to the place of their growth. They are equally beautiful in the extreme Highlands of Scotland, or on the Quantock and Exmoor Hills of the South--everywhere they clothe the hill-sides with a rich garment of purple that is wonderfully beautiful, whether seen under the full influence of the brightest sunshine, or under the dark shadows of the blackest thundercloud. And the botanical geography of the Heath tribe is very remarkable; it is found over the whole of Europe, in Northern Asia, and in Northern Africa. Then the tribe takes a curious leap, being found in immense abundance, both of species and individuals, in Southern Africa, while it is entirely absent from North and South America. Not a single species has been found in the New World. A few plants of Calluna vulgaris have been found in Newfoundland and Massachusetts, but that is not a true Heath.

As a garden plant the Heath has been strangely neglected. Many of the species are completely hardy, and will make pretty evergreen bushes of from 2ft. to 4ft. high, but they are better if kept close-grown by constant clipping. The species best suited for this treatment are E. Mediterranea, E. arborea, and E. codonoides. Of the more humble-growing species, E. vagans (the Cornish Heath) will grow easily in most gardens, though in its native habitat it is confined to the serpentine formation; nor must we omit E. herbacea, which also will grow anywhere, and, if clipped yearly after flowering, will make a most beautiful border to any flower-bed; or it may be used more extensively, as it is at Doddington Park, in Gloucestershire (Sir Gerald Codrington's), where there is a large space in front of the house, several yards square, entirely filled with E. herbacea. When this is in flower (and it is so for nearly two months, or sometimes more) the effect, as seen from above, is of the richest Turkey carpet, but of such a colour and harmony as no Turkey carpet ever attained.

Several of the South-European Heaths were cultivated in England in Shakespeare's time.

HEBENON OR HEBONA.[118:1]

_Ghost._

Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole, With juice of cursed Hebenon in a vial, And in the porches of my ear did pour The leperous distilment; whose effect Holds such an enmity with blood of man That swift as quicksilver it courses through The natural gates and alleys of the body, And with a sudden vigour it doth posset And curd, like eager droppings into milk, The thin and wholesome blood; so did it mine; And a most instant tetter bark'd about, Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust, All my smooth body.

_Hamlet_, act i, sc. 5 (61).

Before and in the time of Shakespeare other writers had spoken of the narcotic and poisonous effects of Heben, Hebenon, or Hebona. Gower says--

"Ful of delite, Slepe hath his hous, and of his couche, Within his chambre if I shall touche, Of Hebenus that slepy tre The bordes all aboute be."

_Conf. Aman._, lib. quart. (ii. 103, Paulli).

Spenser says--

"Faire Venus sonne, . . . Lay now thy deadly Heben bow apart."

_F. Q._, introd., st. 3.

"There (in Mammon's garden) Cypresse grew in greatest store, And trees of bitter gall and Heben sad."

_F. Q._, book ii, c. viij, st. 17.

And he speaks of a "speare of Heben wood," and "a Heben launce." Marlowe, a contemporary and friend of Shakespeare, makes Barabas curse his daughter with--

"In few the blood of Hydra, Lerna's bane, The juice of Hebon, and Cocytus breath, And all the poison of the Stygian pool."

_Jew of Malta_, act iii, st. 4.

It may be taken for granted that all these authors allude to the same tree, but what tree is meant has sorely puzzled the commentators. Some naturally suggested the Ebony, and this view is supported by the respectable names of Archdeacon Nares, Douce, Schmidt, and Dyce. A larger number pronounced with little hesitation in favour of Henbane (_Hyoscyamus niger_), the poisonous qualities of which were familiar to the contemporaries of Shakespeare, and were supposed by most of the botanical writers of his day (and on the authority of Pliny) to be communicated by being poured into the ears. But the Henbane is not a tree, as Gower's "Hebenus" and Spenser's "Heben" certainly were; and though it will satisfy some of the requirements of the plant named by Shakespeare, it will not satisfy all.[119:1]

It might have been supposed that the difficulty would at once have been cleared up by reference to the accounts of the death of Hamlet's father, as given by Saxo Grammaticus, and the old "Hystorie of Hamblet," but neither of these writers attribute his death to poison.[119:2]

The question has lately been very much narrowed and satisfactorily settled (for the present, certainly, and probably altogether) by Dr. Nicholson and the Rev. W. A. Harrison. These gentlemen have decided that the true reading is Hebona, and that Hebona is the Yew. Their views are stated at full length in two exhaustive papers contributed to the New Shakespeare Society, and published in their "Transactions."[119:3] The full argument is too long for insertion here, and my readers will thank me for referring them to the papers in the "Transactions." The main arguments are based on three facts: 1. That in nearly all the northern nations (including, of course, Denmark) the name of the Yew is more or less like Heben. 2. That all the effects attributed by Shakespeare to the action of Hebona are described as arising from Yew-poisoning by different medical writers, some of them contemporary with him, and some writing with later experiences. 3. That the _post mortem_ appearances after Yew-poisoning and after snake-poisoning are very similar, and it was "given out, that sleeping in my orchard, a serpent stung me."

But it may well be asked, How could Shakespeare have known of all these effects, which (as far as our present search has discovered) are not named by any one writer of his time, and some of which have only been made public from the results of Yew-poisoning since his day? I think the question can be answered in a very simple way. The effects are described with such marked minuteness that it seems to me not only very probable, but almost certain, that Shakespeare must have been an eye-witness of a case of Yew-poisoning, and that what he saw had been so photographed on his mind that he took the first opportunity that presented itself to reproduce the picture. With his usual grand contempt for perfect accuracy he did not hesitate to sweep aside at once the strict historical records of the old king's death, and in its place to paint for us a cold-blooded murder carried out by means which he knew from his personal experience to be possible, and which he felt himself able to describe with a minuteness which his knowledge of his audiences assured him would not be out of place even in that great tragedy.

The objection to the Yew theory of Hebona, that the Yew is named by Shakespeare under its more usual name, is no real objection. On the same ground Ebony and Henbane must be excluded; together with Gilliflowers, which he elsewhere speaks of as Carnations; and Woodbine, because he also speaks of Honeysuckle.

FOOTNOTES:

[118:1] Hebona is the reading of the First Quarto (1603) and of the Second Quarto (1604), and is decided by the critics to be the true reading.

[119:1] Mr. Beisley suggests Enoron, _i.e._, Nightshade, which Mr. Dyce describes as "a villainous conjecture." In my first edition I expressed my belief that Hebenon was either Henbane or a general term for a deadly poisonous plant; but I had not then seen Dr. Nicholson's and Mr. Harrison's papers.

[119:2] Saxo Grammaticus: "Ubi datus parricidio locus, cruenta manu mentis libidinem satiavit; trucidati quoque fratris uxore potitus, incestum parricidio adjecit."--_Historiæ Danorum_, lib. iii, fol. xxvii, Ed. 1514.

"The Historye of Hamblet, Prince of Denmark:" Fergon "having secretly assembled certain men and perceiving himself strong enough to execute his enterprise, Horvendile, his brother, being at a banquet with his friends, sodainely set upon him, where he slewe him as treacherously, as cunningly he purged himselfe of so detestable a murder to his subjects."--COLLIER'S _Shakespeare's Library_.

[119:3] "Hamlet's Cursed Hebenon," by Dr. R. B. Nicholson, M.D. (read Nov. 14, 1879). "Hamlet's Juice of Cursed Hebona," by Rev. W. A. Harrison, M.A. (read May 12, 1882). Both the papers are published in the "Transactions" of the Society.

HEMLOCK.

(1) _Burgundy._

Her fallow leas The Darnel, Hemlock, and rank Fumitory Doth root upon.

_Henry V_, act v, sc. 2 (44).

(2) _3rd Witch._

Root of Hemlock digg'd i' the dark.

_Macbeth_, act iv, sc. 1 (25).

(3) _Cordelia._

Crown'd with rank Fumiter and Furrow-weeds, With Burdocks, Hemlock, Nettles, Cuckoo-flowers.

_King Lear_, act iv, sc. 4 (3).

One of the most poisonous of a suspicious family (the Umbelliferæ), "the great Hemlocke doubtlesse is not possessed of any one good facultie, as appeareth by his lothsome smell and other apparent signes," and with this evil character the Hemlock was considered to be only fit for an ingredient of witches' broth--

"I ha' been plucking (plants among) Hemlock, Henbane, Adder's Tongue, Nightshade, Moonwort, Leppard's-bane."

BEN JONSON, _Witches' Song in the Masque of the Queens_.

Yet the Hemlock adds largely to the beauty of our hedgerows; its spotted tall stems and its finely cut leaves make it a handsome weed, and the dead stems and dried umbels are marked features in the winter appearance of the hedges. As a poison it has an evil notoriety, being supposed to be the poison by which Socrates was put to death, though this is not quite certain. It is not, however, altogether a useless plant--"It is a valuable medicinal plant, and in autumn the ripened stem is cut into pieces to make reeds for worsted thread."--JOHNSTON.

HEMP.

(1) _Pistol._

Let gallows gape for dog; let man go free, And let not Hemp his windpipe suffocate.

_Henry V_, act iii, sc. 6 (45).

(2) _Chorus._

And in them behold Upon the Hempen tackle ship-boys climbing.

_Henry V_, act iii, chorus (7).

(3) _Puck._

What Hempen homespuns have we swaggering here?

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act iii, sc. 1 (79).

(4) _Cade._

Ye shall have a Hempen caudle then, and the pap of a hatchet.

_2nd Henry VI_, act iv, sc. 7 (95).

(5) _Hostess._

Thou Hemp-seed.

_2nd Henry IV_, act ii, sc. 1 (64).

In all these passages, except the last, the reference is to rope made from Hemp, and not to the Hemp plant, and it is very probable that Shakespeare never saw the plant. It was introduced into England long before his time, and largely cultivated, but only in few parts of England, and chiefly in the eastern counties. I do not find that it was cultivated in gardens in his time, but it is a plant well deserving a place in any garden, and is especially suitable from its height and regular growth, for the central plant of a flower-bed. It is supposed to be a native of India, and seems capable of cultivation in almost any climate.[122:1]

The name has a curious history. "The Greek +kannabis+, and Latin _cannabis_, are both identical with the Sanscrit _kanam_, as well as with the German _hanf_, and the English _hemp_. More directly from _cannabis_ comes canvas, made up of hemp or flax, and canvass, to discuss: _i.e._, sift a question; metaphorically from the use of hempen sieves or sifters."--BIRDWOOD'S _Handbook to the Indian Court_, p. 23.

FOOTNOTES:

[122:1] In Shakespeare's time the vulgar name for Hemp was Neckweed, and there is a curious account of it under that name by William Bullein, in "The Booke of Compounds," f. 68.

HERB OF GRACE, _see_ RUE.

HOLLY.

_Song._

Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green Holly: Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly: Then, heigh-ho, the Holly! This life is most jolly.

_As You Like It_, act ii, sc. 7 (180).

From this single notice of the Holly in Shakespeare, and from the slight account of it in Gerard, we might conclude that the plant was not the favourite in the sixteenth century that it is in the nineteenth; but this would be a mistake. The Holly entered largely into the old Christmas carols.

"Christmastide Comes in like a bride, With Holly and Ivy clad"--

and it was from the earliest times used for the decoration of houses and churches at Christmas. It does not, however, derive its name from this circumstance, though it was anciently spelt "holy," or called the "holy tree," for the name comes from a very different source, and is identical with "holm," which, indeed, was its name in the time of Gerard and Parkinson, and is still its name in some parts of England, though it has almost lost its other old name of Hulver,[123:1] except in the eastern counties, where the word is still in use. But as an ornamental tree it does not seem to have been much valued, though in the next century Evelyn is loud in the praises of this "incomparable tree," and admired it both for its beauty and its use. It is certainly the handsomest of our native evergreens, and is said to be finer in England than in any other country; and as seen growing in its wild habitats in our forests, as it may be seen in the New Forest and the Forest of Dean, it stands without a rival, equally beautiful in summer and in winter; in summer its bright glossy leaves shining out distinctly in the midst of any surrounding greenery, while as "the Holly that outdares cold winter's ire" (Browne), it is the very emblem of bright cheerfulness, with its foliage uninjured in the most severe weather, and its rich coral berries, sometimes borne in the greatest profusion, delighting us with their brilliancy and beauty. And as a garden shrub, the Holly still holds its own, after all the fine exotic shrubs that have been introduced into our gardens during the present century. It can be grown as a single shrub, or it may be clipped, and will then form the best and the most impregnable hedge that can be grown. No other plant will compare with it as a hedge plant, if it be only properly attended to, and we can understand Evelyn's pride in his "glorious and refreshing object," a Holly hedge 160ft. in length, 7ft. in height, and 5ft. in diameter, which he could show in his "poor gardens at any time of the year, glittering with its armed and vernished leaves," and "blushing with their natural corale." Nor need we be confined to plain green in such a hedge. The Holly runs into a great many varieties, with the leaves of all shapes and sizes, and blotched and variegated in different fashions and colours. All of these seem to be comparatively modern. In the time of Gerard and Parkinson there seems to have been only the one typical species, and perhaps the Hedgehog Holly.

I may finish the notice of the Holly by quoting two most remarkable uses of the tree mentioned by Parkinson: "With the flowers of Holly, saith Pliny from Pythagoras, water is made ice; and againe, a staffe of the tree throwne at any beast, although it fall short by his defect that threw it, will flye to him, as he lyeth still, by the speciall property of the tree." He may well add--"This I here relate that you may understand the fond and vain conceit of those times, which I would to God we were not in these dayes tainted withal."

FOOTNOTES:

[123:1] "_Hulwur_-tre (huluyr), hulmus, hulcus aut huscus."--_Promptorium Parvulorum._

HOLY THISTLE.

_Margaret._

Get you some of this distilled Carduus Benedictus, and lay it to your heart; it is the only thing for a qualm.

_Hero._

There thou prickest her with a Thistle.

_Beatrice._

Benedictus! Why Benedictus? You have some moral in this Benedictus.

_Margaret._

Moral! No, by my troth, I have no moral meaning: I meant plain Holy Thistle.

_Much Ado About Nothing_, act iii, sc. 4 (73).

The _Carduus benedictus_, or Blessed Thistle, is a handsome annual from the South of Europe, and obtained its name from its high reputation as a heal-all, being supposed even to cure the plague, which was the highest praise that could be given to a medicine in those days. It is mentioned in all the treatises on the Plague, and especially by Thomas Brasbridge, who, in 1578, published his "Poore Mans Jewell, that is to say, a Treatise of the Pestilence: vnto which is annexed a declaration of the vertues of the Hearbes Carduus Benedictus and Angelica." This little book Shakespeare may have seen; it speaks of the virtues of the "distilled" leaves: it says, "it helpeth the hart," "expelleth all poyson taken in at the mouth and other corruption that doth hurt and annoye the hart," and that "the juyce of it is outwardly applied to the bodie" ("lay it to your heart"), and concludes, "therefore I counsell all them that have Gardens to nourish it, that they may have it always to their own use, and the use of their neighbours that lacke it." The plant has long lost this high character.

HONEYSTALKS, _see_ CLOVER.

HONEYSUCKLE.

(1) _Hero._

And bid her steal into the pleached bower Where Honeysuckles, ripen'd by the sun, Forbid the sun to enter.

_Much Ado About Nothing_, act iii, sc. 1 (7).

(2) _Ursula._

So angle we for Beatrice; who even now Is couched in the Woodbine coverture.

_Ibid._ (29).

(3) _Titania._

Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms. So doth the Woodbine the sweet Honeysuckle Gently entwist; the Female Ivy so Enrings the barky fingers of the Elm.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act iv, sc. 1 (47).

(4) _Hostess._

O thou Honeysuckle villain.

_2nd Henry IV_, act ii, sc. 1 (52).

(5) _Oberon._

I know a bank where the wild Thyme blows, Where Oxlips and the nodding Violet grows, Quite over-canopied with luscious Woodbine.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act ii, sc. 1 (249).

I have joined together here the Woodbine and the Honeysuckle, because there can be little doubt that in Shakespeare's time the two names belonged to the same plant,[126:1] and that the Woodbine was (where the two names were at all discriminated, as in No. 3), applied to the plant generally, and Honeysuckle to the flower. This seems very clear by comparing together Nos. 1 and 2. In earlier writings the name was applied very loosely to almost any creeping or climbing plant. In an Anglo-Saxon Vocabulary of the eleventh century it is applied to the Wild Clematis ("Viticella--Weoden-binde"); while in Archbishop Ælfric's "Vocabulary" of the tenth century it is applied to the Hedera nigra, which may be either the Common or the Ground Ivy ("Hedera nigra--Wude-binde"); and in the Herbarium and Leechdom books of the twelfth century it is applied to the Capparis or Caper-plant, by which, however (as Mr. Cockayne considers), the Convolvulus Sepium is meant. After Shakespeare's time again the words began to be used confusedly. Milton does not seem to have been very clear in the matter. In "Paradise Lost" he makes our first parents "wind the Woodbine round this arbour" (perhaps he had Shakespeare's arbour in his mind); and in "Comus" he tells us of--

"A bank With ivy-canopied, and interwove With flaunting Honeysuckle."[126:2]

While in "Lycidas" he tells of--

"The Musk Rose and the well-attired Woodbine."

And we can scarcely suppose that he would apply two such contrary epithets as "flaunting" and "well-attired" to the same plant. And now the name, as of old, is used with great uncertainty, and I have heard it applied to many plants, and especially to the small sweet-scented Clematis (_C. flammula_).

But with the Honeysuckle there is no such difficulty. The name is an old one, and in its earliest use was no doubt indifferently applied to many sweet-scented flowers (the Primrose amongst them); but it was soon attached exclusively to our own sweet Honeysuckle of the woods and hedges. We have two native species (Lonicera periclymenum and L. xylosteum), and there are about eighty exotic species, but none of them sweeter or prettier than our own, which, besides its fragrant flowers, has pretty, fleshy, red fruit.

The Honeysuckle has ever been the emblem of firm and fast affection--as it climbs round any tree or bush, that is near it, not only clinging to it faster than Ivy, but keeping its hold so tight as to leave its mark in deep furrows on the tree that has supported it. The old writers are fond of alluding to this. Bullein in "The Book of Simples," 1562, says very prettily, "Oh, how swete and pleasant is Wood-binde, in woodes or arbours, after a tender, soft rain: and how friendly doe this herbe, if I maie so name it, imbrace the bodies, armes, and branches of trees, with his long winding stalkes, and tender leaves, openyng or spreading forthe his swete Lillis, like ladie's fingers, em[=o]g the thornes or bushes," and there is no doubt from the context that he is here referring to the Honeysuckle. Chaucer gives the crown of Woodbine to those who were constant in love--

"And tho that weare chaplets on their hede Of fresh Woodbine, be such as never were To love untrue in word, thought, ne dede, But aye stedfast; ne for pleasaunce ne fere, Though that they should their hertes al to-tere, Would never flit, but ever were stedfast Till that there lives there asunder brast."

_The Flower and the Leaf._

The two last lines well describe the fast union between the Honeysuckle and its mated tree.

FOOTNOTES:

[126:1]

"Woodbines of sweet honey full."

BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER, _Tragedy of Valentinian_.

[126:2] Milton probably took the idea from Theocritus--

"Ivy reaches up and climbs, Gilded with blossom-dust about its lip; Round which a Woodbine wreathes itself, and flaunts Her saffron fruitage."--_Idyll_ i. (_Calverley_).

HYSSOP.

_Iago._

'Tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners; so that if we will plant Nettles or sow Lettuce, set Hyssop, and weed up Thyme, supply it with one gender of herbs or distract it with many, either to have it sterile with idleness, or maimed with industry, why, the power and corrigible authority of this lies in our wills.

_Othello_, act i, sc. 3 (322).

We should scarcely expect such a lesson of wisdom drawn from the simple herb-garden in the mouth of the greatest knave and villain in the whole range of Shakespeare's writings. It was the preaching of a deep hypocrite, and while we hate the preacher we thank him for his lesson.[128:1]

The Hyssop (_Hyssopus officinalis_) is not a British plant, but it was held in high esteem in Shakespeare's time. Spenser spoke of it as--

"Sharp Isope good for green wounds remedies"--

and Gerard grew in his garden five or six different species or varieties. He does not tell us where his plants came from, and perhaps he did not know. It comes chiefly from Austria and Siberia; yet Greene in his "Philomela," 1615, speaks of "the Hyssop growing in America, that is liked of strangers for the smell, and hated of the inhabitants for the operation, being as prejudicial to the one as delightsome to the other." It is now very little cultivated, for it is not a plant of much beauty, and its medicinal properties are not much esteemed; yet it is a plant that must always have an interest to readers of the Bible; for there it comes before us as the plant of purification, as the plant of which the study was not beneath the wisdom of Solomon, and especially as the plant that added to the cruelties of the Crucifixion. Whether the Hyssop of Scripture is the Hyssopus officinalis is still a question, but at the present time the most modern research has decided that it is.

FOOTNOTES:

[128:1] It seems likely from the following passage from Lily's "Euphues, the anatomy of wit," 1617, that the plants were not named at random by Iago, but that there was some connection between them. "Good gardeners, in their curious knots, mixe Isope with Time, as aiders the one with the others; the one being dry, the other moist." The gardeners of the sixteenth century had a firm belief in the sympathies and antipathies of plants.

INSANE ROOT.

_Banquo._

Were such things here as we do speak about? Or have we eaten on the Insane Root That takes the reason prisoner?

_Macbeth_, act i, sc. 3 (83).

It is very possible that Shakespeare had no particular plant in view, but simply referred to any of the many narcotic plants which, when given in excess, would "take the reason prisoner." The critics have suggested many plants--the Hemlock, the Henbane, the Belladonna, the Mandrake, &c., each one strengthening his opinion from coeval writers. In this uncertainty I should incline to the Henbane from the following description by Gerard and Lyte. "This herbe is called . . . of Apuleia-Mania" (Lyte). "Henbane is called . . . of Pythagoras, Zoroaster, and Apuleius, Insana" (Gerard).

IVY.

(1) _Titania._

The female Ivy so Enrings the barky fingers of the Elm.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act iv, sc. 1 (48).

(2) _Prospero._

That now he was The Ivy which had hid my princely trunk And suck'd my verdure out on't.

_Tempest_, act i, sc. 2 (85).

(3) _Adriana._

If ought possess thee from me, it is dross, Usurping Ivy, Brier, or idle Moss.

_Comedy of Errors_, act ii, sc. 2 (179).

(4) _Shepherd._

They have scared away two of my best sheep, which I fear the wolf will sooner find than the master; if anywhere I have them 'tis by the seaside browsing of Ivy.[130:1]

_Winter's Tale_, act iii, sc. 3 (66).

(5) _Perithores._

His head's yellow, Hard hayr'd, and curl'd, thicke twin'd like Ivy tops, Not to undoe with thunder.

_Two Noble Kinsmen_, act iv, sc. 2 (115).

The rich evergreen of "the Ivy never sear" (Milton) recommended it to the Romans to be joined with the Bay in the chaplets of poets--

"Hanc sine tempora circum Inter victrices Hederam tibi serpere lauros."--VIRGIL.

"Seu condis amabile carmen Prima feres Hederæ victricis præmia."--HORACE.

And in mediæval times it was used with Holly for Christmas decorations, so that Bullein called it "the womens Christmas Herbe." But the old writers always assumed a curious rivalry between the two--

"Holly and Ivy made a great party Who should have the mastery In lands where they go."

And there is a well-known carol of the time of Henry VI., which tells of the contest between the two, and of the mastery of the Holly; it is in eight stanzas, of which I extract the last four--

"Holly he hath berries as red as any Rose, The foresters, the hunters, keep them from the does; Ivy she hath berries as black as any Sloe, There come the owls and eat them as they go; Holly he hath birds, a full fair flock, The nightingale, the popinjay, the gentle laverock; Good Ivy, say to us, what birds hast thou? None but the owlet that cries 'How, how!'"

Thus the Ivy was not allowed the same honour inside the houses of our ancestors as the Holly, but it held its place outside the houses as a sign of good cheer to be had within. The custom is now extinct, but formerly an Ivy bush (called a tod of Ivy) was universally hung out in front of taverns in England, as it still is in Brittany and Normandy. Hence arose two proverbs--"Good wine needs no bush," _i.e._, the reputation is sufficiently good without further advertisement; and "An owl in an Ivy bush," as "perhaps denoting originally the union of wisdom or prudence with conviviality, as 'Be merry and wise.'"--NARES.

The Ivy was a plant as much admired by our grandfathers of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries as it is now by us. Spenser was evidently fond of it--

"And nigh thereto a little chappel stoode Which being all with Yvy overspread Deckt all the roofe, and shadowing the rode Seem'd like a grove faire branched over hed."

_F. Q._, vi, v, 25.

In another place he speaks of it as--

"Wanton Yvie, flouring fayre."--_F. Q._, ii, v, 29.

And in another place--

"Amongst the rest the clambering Ivie grew Knitting his wanton armes with grasping hold, Least that the Poplar happely should rew Her brother's strokes, whose boughs she doth enfold With her lythe twigs till they the top survew, And paint with pallid greene her buds of gold."

VIRGIL'S _Gnat_.

Chaucer describes it as--

"The erbe Ivie that groweth in our yard that mery is."

And in the same poem he prettily describes it as--

"The pallid Ivie building his own bowre."

As a wild plant, the Ivy is found in Europe, Asia, and Africa, but not in America, and wherever it is found it loves to cover old walls and buildings, and trees of every sort, with its close and rich drapery and clusters of black fruit,[132:1] and where it once establishes itself it is always beautiful, but not always harmless. Both on trees and buildings it requires very close watching. It will very soon destroy soft-wooded trees, such as the Poplar and the Ash, by its tight embrace, not by sucking out the sap, but by preventing the outward growth of the shoots, and checking--and at length preventing--the flow of sap; and in buildings it is no doubt beneficial as long as it is closely watched and kept in place, but if allowed to drive its roots into joints, or to grow under roofs, the swelling roots and branches will soon displace any masonry, and cause immense mischief.

We have only one species of Ivy in England, and there are only two real species recognized by present botanists, but there are infinite varieties, and many of them very beautiful. These variegated Ivies were known to the Greeks and Romans, and were highly prized by them, one especially with white fruit (at present not known) was the type of beauty. No higher praise could be given to a beauty than that she was "Hedera formosior alba." These varieties are scarcely mentioned by Gerard and Parkinson, and probably were not much valued; they are now in greater repute, and nothing will surpass them for rapidly and effectually covering any bare spaces.

I need scarcely add that the Ivy is so completely hardy that it will grow in any aspect and in any soil; that its flowers are the staple food of bees in the late autumn; and that all the varieties grow easily from cuttings at almost any time of the year.

FOOTNOTES:

[130:1] Sheep feeding on Ivy--

"My sheep have Honeysuckle bloom for pasture; Ivy grows In multitudes around them, and blossoms like the Rose."

THEOCRITUS, _Idyll_ v. (_Calverley_).

[132:1]

"The Ivy-mesh Shading the Ethiop berries."--KEATS, _Endymion_.

KECKSIES.

_Burgundy._

And nothing teems But hateful Docks, rough Thistles, Kecksies, Burs, Losing both beauty and utility.

_Henry V_, act v, sc. 2 (51).

Kecksies or Kecks are the dried and withered stems of the Hemlock, and the name is occasionally applied to the living plant. It seems also to have been used for any dry weeds--

"All the wyves of Tottenham came to se that syght, With Wyspes, and Kexis, and ryschys ther lyght, To fech hom ther husbandes, that wer tham trouth plyght."

"The Tournament of Tottenham," in RITSON'S _Ancient Songs and Ballads_.

KNOT-GRASS.

_Lysander._

Get you gone, you dwarf; You minimus, of hindering Knot-grass made; You bead, you Acorn.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act iii, sc. 2 (328).

The Knot-grass is the Polygonum aviculare, a British weed, low, straggling, and many-jointed, hence its name of Knot-grass. There is no doubt that this is the plant meant, and its connection with a dwarf is explained by the belief, probably derived from some unrecorded character detected by the "doctrine of signatures," that the growth of children could be stopped by a diet of Knot-grass. Steevens quotes Beaumont and Fletcher to this effect, and this will probably explain the epithet "hindering." But there may be another explanation. Johnston tells us that in the north, "being difficult to cut in the harvest time, or to pull in the process of weeding, it has obtained the sobriquet of the Deil's-lingels." From this it may well be called "hindering," just as the Ononis, from the same habit of catching the plough and harrow, has obtained the prettier name of "Rest-harrow."

But though Shakespeare's Knot-grass is undoubtedly the Polygonum, yet the name was also given to another plant, for this cannot be the plant mentioned by Milton--

"The chewing flocks Had ta'en their supper on the savoury herb Of Knot-grass dew-besprent."--_Comus._

In this case it must be one of the pasture Grasses, and may be Agrostis stolonifera, as it is said to be in Aubrey's "Natural History of Wilts" (Dr. Prior).

LADY-SMOCKS.

_Song of Spring._

And Lady-smocks all silver-white, And Cuckoo-buds of yellow hue, Do paint the meadows with delight.

_Love's Labour's Lost_, act v, sc. 2 (905).

Lady-smocks are the flowers of Cardamine pratensis, the pretty early meadow flower of which children are so fond, and of which the popularity is shown by its many names: Lady-smocks, Cuckoo-flower,[134:1] Meadow Cress, Pinks, Spinks, Bog-spinks, and May-flower, and "in Northfolke, Canterbury Bells." The origin of the name is not very clear. It is generally explained from the resemblance of the flowers to smocks hung out to dry, but the resemblance seems to me rather far-fetched. According to another explanation, "the Lady-smock, a corruption of Our Lady's-smock, is so called from its first flowering about Lady-tide. It is a pretty purplish white, tetradynamous plant, which blows from Lady-tide till the end of May, and which during the latter end of April covers the moist meadows with its silvery-white, which looks at a distance like a white sheet spread over the fields."--_Circle of the Seasons._ Those who adopt this view called the plant Our Lady's-smock, but I cannot find that name in any old writers. Drayton, coeval with Shakespeare, says--

"Some to grace the show, Of Lady-smocks most white do rob each neighbouring mead, Wherewith their loose locks most curiously they braid."

And Isaac Walton, in the next century, drew that pleasant picture of himself sitting quietly by the waterside--"looking down the meadows I could see here a boy gathering Lilies and Lady-smocks, and there a girl cropping Culverkeys and Cowslips."[134:2]

There is a double variety of the Lady-smock which makes a handsome garden plant, and there is a remarkable botanical curiosity connected with the plant which should be noticed. The plant often produces in the autumn small plants upon the leaves, and by the means of these little parasites the plant is increased, and even if the leaves are detached from the plant, and laid upon moist congenial soil, young plants will be produced. This is a process that is well known to gardeners in the propagation of Begonias, and it is familiar to us in the proliferous Ferns, where young plants are produced on the surface or tips of the fronds; and Dr. Masters records "the same condition as a teratological occurrence in the leaves of Hyacinthus Pouzolsii, Drosera intermedia, Arabis pumila, Chelidonum majus, Chirita Sinensis, Epicia bicolor, Zamia, &c."--_Vegetable Teratology_, p. 170.

FOOTNOTES:

[134:1] "Ladies-smock.--A kind of water cresses, of whose virtue it partakes; and it is otherwise called Cuckoo-flower."--PHILLIPS, _World of Words_, 1696.

[134:2] Culverkeys is mentioned in Dennis' "Secrets of Angling" as a meadow flower: "pale Ganderglas, and azor Culverkayes." It is also mentioned by Aubrey, in his "Natural History of Wilts;" but the name is found in no other writer, and is now extinct. It is difficult to say what plant is meant; many have been suggested: the Columbine, the Meadow Orchis, the Bluebell, &c. I think it must be the Meadow Geranium, which is certainly "azor" almost beyond any other British plant. "Culver" is a dove or pigeon, and "keyes" or "kayes" are the seeds of a plant, and the seeds of the Geranium were all likened to the claws of birds, so that our British species is called G. columbinum.

LARK'S HEELS.

Larks heels trim.

_Two Noble Kinsmen_, Introd. song.

Lark's heels is one of the many names of the Garden Delphinium, otherwise called Larkspur, Larksclaw, Larkstoes.

LAUREL.

(1) _Clarence._

To whom the heavens in thy nativity Adjudged an Olive branch and Laurel crown As likely to be blest in peace and war.

_3rd Henry VI_, act iv, sc. 6 (33).

(2) _Titus._

Cometh Andronicus bound with Laurel boughs.

_Titus Andronicus_, act i, sc. 1 (74).

(3) _Cleopatra._

Upon your sword Sit Laurel victory.

_Antony and Cleopatra_, act i, sc. 3 (99).

(4) _Ulysses._

Prerogative of age, crowns, sceptres, Laurels.

_Troilus and Cressida_, act i, sc. 3 (107).

This is one of the plants which Shakespeare borrowed from the classical writers; it is not the Laurel of our day, which was not introduced till after his death,[136:1] but the Laurea Apollinis, the Laurea Delphica--

"The Laurel meed of mightie conquerors And poet's sage,"--SPENSER;

that is, the Bay. This is the tree mentioned by Gower--

"This Daphne into a Lorer tre Was turned, whiche is ever grene, In token, as yet it may be sene, That she shalle dwelle a maiden stille."

_Conf. Aman._ lib. terc.

There can be little doubt that the Laurel of Chaucer also was the Bay, the--

"Fresh grene Laurer tree That gave so passing a delicious smelle According to the Eglantere ful welle."

He also spoke of it as the emblem of enduring freshness--

"Myn herte and al my lymes be as grene As Laurer, through the yeer is for to seene."

_The Marchaundes Tale._

The Laurel in Lyte's "Herbal" (the Lauriel or Lourye) seems to be the Daphne Laureola. But unconsciously Chaucer and Shakespeare spoke with more botanical accuracy than we do, the Bay being a true Laurel, while the Laurel is a Cherry (_see_ BAY).

FOOTNOTES:

[136:1] The first Laurel grown in Europe was grown by Clusius in 1576.

LAVENDER.

_Perdita._

Here's flowers for you; Hot Lavender, Mints, Savory, Marjoram.

_Winter's Tale_, act iv, sc. 4 (103).

The mention of Lavender always recalls Walton's pleasant picture of "an honest ale-house, where we shall find a cleanly room, Lavender in the windows, and twenty ballads stuck against the wall, and my hostess, I may tell you, is both cleanly and handsome and civil." Whether it is from this familiar, old-fashioned picture, or from some inherent charm in the plant, it is hard to say, but it is certain that the smell of Lavender is always associated with cleanliness and freshness.[137:1]

It is not a British plant, but is a native of the South of Europe in dry and barren places, and it was introduced into England in the sixteenth century, but it probably was not a common plant in Shakespeare's time, for though it is mentioned by Spenser as "the Lavender still gray" ("Muiopotmos"), and by Gerard as growing in his garden, it is not mentioned by Bacon in his list of sweet-smelling plants. The fine aromatic smell is found in all parts of the shrub, but the essential oil is only produced from the flowers. As a garden plant it is found in every garden, but its growth as an extensive field crop is chiefly confined to the neighbourhood of Mitcham and Carshalton in Surrey; and there at the time of the picking of the flowers, and still more in the later autumn when the old woody plants are burned, the air for a long distance is strongly and most pleasantly impregnated with the delicate perfume.

FOOTNOTES:

[137:1] The very name suggests this association. Lavender is the English form of the Latin name, Lavendula; "lavendula autem dicta quoniam magnum vectigal Genevensibus mercatoribus præbet quotannis in Africam eam ferentibus, ubi lavandis fovendisque corporibus Lybes ea utuntur, nec nisi decocto ejus abluti, mane domo egrediuntur."--_Stephani Libellus de re Hortensi_, 1536, p. 54. The old form of our "laundress" was "a Lavendre."

LEATHERCOAT, _see_ APPLE.

LEEK.

(1) _Thisbe._

His eyes were green as Leeks.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act v, sc. 1 (342).

(2) _Pistol._

Tell him I'll knock his Leek about his pate upon Saint Davy's Day.

_Henry V_, act iv, sc. 1 (54).

(3) _Fluellen._

If your majesties is remembered of it, the Welshmen did good service in a garden where Leeks did grow, wearing Leeks in their Monmouth caps; which your majesty knows to this hour is an honourable badge of the service; and I do believe your majesty takes no scorn to wear the Leek upon Saint Tavy's Day.

_Ibid._, act iv, sc. 7 (101).

(4)

In act v, sc. 1, is the encounter between Fluellen and Pistol, when he makes the bully eat the Leek; this causes such frequent mention of the Leek that it would be necessary to extract the whole scene, which, therefore, I will simply refer to in this way.

We can scarcely understand the very high value that was placed on Leeks in olden times. By the Egyptians the plant was almost considered sacred, "Porrum et cæpe nefas violare et frangere morsu" (Juvenal); we know how Leeks were relished in Egypt by the Israelites; and among the Greeks they "appear to have constituted so important a part in ancient gardens, that the term +prasia+, or a bed, derived its name from +prason+, the Greek word for Onion," or Leek[138:1] (Daubeny); while among the Anglo-Saxons it was very much the same. The name is pure Anglo-Saxon, and originally meant any vegetable; then it was restricted to any bulbous vegetable, before it was finally further restricted to our Leek; and "its importance was considered so much above that of any other vegetable, that _leac-tun_, the Leek-garden, became the common name of the kitchen garden, and _leac-ward_, the Leek-keeper, was used to designate the gardener" (Wright). The plant in those days gave its name to the Broad Leek which is our present Leek, the Yne Leek or Onion, the Garleek (Garlick), and others of the same tribe, while it was applied to other plants of very different families, as the Hollow Leek (_Corydalis cava_), and the House Leek (_Sempervivum tectorum_).

It seems to have been considered the hardiest of all flowers. In the account of the Great Frost of 1608, "this one infallible token" is given in proof of its severity. "The Leek whose courage hath ever been so undaunted that he hath borne up his lusty head in all storms, and could never be compelled to shrink for hail, snow, frost, or showers, is now by the violence and cruelty of this weather beaten unto the earth, being rotted, dead, disgraced, and trod upon."

Its popularity still continues among the Welsh, by whom it is still, I believe, very largely cultivated; but it does not seem to have been much valued in England in Shakespeare's time, for Gerard has but little to say of its virtues, but much of its "hurts." "It hateth the body, ingendreth naughty blood, causeth troublesome and terrible dreames, offendeth the eyes, dulleth the sight, &c." Nor does Parkinson give a much more favourable account. "Our dainty eye now refuseth them wholly, in all sorts except the poorest; they are used with us sometimes in Lent to make pottage, and is a great and generall feeding in Wales with the vulgar gentlemen." It was even used as the proverbial expression of worthlessness, as in the "Roumaunt of the Rose," where the author says, speaking of "Phiciciens and Advocates"--

"For by her wille, without leese, Everi man shulde be seke, And though they die, they settle not a Leke."

And by Chaucer--

"And other suche, deare ynough a Leeke."

_Prologue of the Chanoune's Tale._

"The beste song that ever was made Ys not worth a Leky's blade, But men will tend ther tille."

_The Child of Bristowe._

FOOTNOTES:

[138:1] For a testimony of the high value placed on the Leek by the Greeks see a poem on +Môly+, in "Anonymi Carmen de Herbis" in the "Poetæ Bucolici et didactici."

LEMON.

_Biron._

A Lemon.

_Longaville._

Stuck with Cloves.

_Love's Labour's Lost_, act v, sc. 2 (654).

_See_ ORANGE AND CLOVES.

LETTUCE.

_Iago._

If we will plant Nettles or sow Lettuce. (_See_ HYSSOP.)

_Othello_, act i, sc. 3 (324).

This excellent vegetable with its Latin name probably came to us from the Romans.

"Letuce of lac derivyed is perchaunce; For milk it hath or yeveth abundaunce."

_Palladius on Husbandrie_, ii, 216 (15th cent.) E. E. Text Soc.

It was cultivated by the Anglo-Saxons, who showed their knowledge of its narcotic qualities by giving it the name of Sleepwort; it is mentioned by Spenser as "cold Lettuce" ("Muiopotmos"). And in Shakespeare's time the sorts cultivated were very similar to, and probably as good as, ours.

LILY.

(1) _Iris._

Thy banks with Pioned and Lilied[140:1] brims.

_Tempest_, act iv, sc. 1 (64).

(2) _Launce._

Look you, she is as white as a Lily and as small as a wand.

_Two Gentlemen of Verona_, act ii, sc. 3 (22).

(3) _Julia._

The air hath starved the Roses in her cheeks, And pinch'd the Lily-tincture of her face.

_Ibid._, act iv, sc. 4 (160).

(4) _Flute._

Most radiant Pyramus, most Lily-white of hue.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act iii, sc. 1 (94).

(5) _Thisbe._

These Lily lips.

_Ibid._, act v, sc. 1 (337).

(6) _Perdita._

Lilies of all kinds, The Flower-de-luce being one!

_Winter's Tale_, act iv, sc. 4 (126).

(7) _Princess._

Now by my maiden honour, yet as pure As the unsullied Lily.

_Love's Labour's Lost_, act v, sc. 2 (351).

(8) _Queen Katharine._

Like the Lily That once was mistress of the field and flourish'd, I'll hang my head, and perish.

_Henry VIII_, act iii, sc. 1 (151).

(9) _Cranmer._

Yet a virgin, A most unspotted Lily shall she pass To the ground.

_Ibid._, act v, sc. 5 (61).

(10) _Troilus._

Give me swift transportance to those fields, Where I may wallow in the Lily beds Proposed for the deserver.

_Troilus and Cressida_, act iii, sc. 2 (12).

(11) _Marcus._

O, had the monster seen those Lily hands Tremble, like Aspen leaves, upon a lute.

_Titus Andronicus_, act ii, sc. 4 (44).

(12) _Titus._

Fresh tears Stood on her cheeks as doth the honey-dew Upon a gather'd Lily almost wither'd.

_Ibid._, act iii, sc. 1 (111).

(13) _Iachimo._

How bravely thou becomest thy bed, fresh Lily!

_Cymbeline_, act ii, sc. 2 (15).

(14) _Guiderius._

O sweetest, fairest Lily! My brother wears thee not the one half so well, As when thou grew'st thyself.

_Ibid._, act iv, sc. 2 (201).

(15) _Constance._

Of Nature's gifts thou may'st with Lilies boast, And with the half-blown Rose.

_King John_, act iii, sc. 1 (53).

(16) _Salisbury._

To gild refined gold, to paint the Lily, To throw a perfume on the Violet,

* * * * *

Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.

_Ibid._, act iv, sc. 2 (11).

(17) _Kent._

A Lily-livered, action-taking knave.

_King Lear_, act ii, sc. 2 (18).

(18) _Macbeth_

Thou Lily-liver'd boy.

_Macbeth_, act v, sc. 3 (15).

(19)

For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.

_Sonnet_ xciv.

(20)

Nor did I wonder at the Lily's white, Nor praise the deep vermilion of the Rose.

_Ibid._ xcviii.

(21)

The Lily I condemned for thy hand.

_Ibid._ xcix.

(22)

Their silent war of Lilies and of Roses Which Tarquin view'd in her fair face's field.

_Lucrece_ (71).

(23)

Her Lily hand her rosy cheek lies under, Cozening the pillow of a lawful kiss.

_Ibid._ (386).

(24)

The colour in thy face That even for anger makes the Lily pale, And the red Rose blush at her own disgrace.

_Ibid._ (477).

(25)

A Lily pale with damask die to grace her.

_Passionate Pilgrim_ (89).

(26)

Full gently now she takes him by the hand, A Lily prison'd in a jail of snow.

_Venus and Adonis_ (361).

(27)

She locks her Lily fingers one in one.

_Ibid._ (228).

(28)

Whose wonted Lily white With purple tears, that his wound wept, was drench'd.

_Ibid._ (1053).

Which is the queen of flowers? There are two rival candidates for the honour--the Lily and the Rose; and as we look on the one or the other, our allegiance is divided, and we vote the crown first to one and then to the other. We should have no difficulty "were t'other fair charmer away," but with two such candidates, both equally worthy of the honour, we vote for a diarchy instead of a monarchy, and crown them both.[142:1] Yet there are many that would at once choose the Lily for the queen, and that without hesitation, and they would have good authority for their choice. "O Lord, that bearest rule," says Esdras, "of the whole world, Thou hast chosen Thee of all the flowers thereof one Lily." Spenser addresses the Lily as--

"The Lily, lady of the flow'ring field"--_F. Q._, ii, 6, 16,

which is the same as Shakespeare's "mistress of the field," (8), and many a poet since his time has given the same vote in many a pretty verse, which, however, it would take too much space to quote at length; so that I will content myself with these few lines by Alexander Montgomery (coeval with Shakespeare)--

"I love the Lily as the first of flowers Whose stately stalk so straight up is and stay; To whom th' lave ay lowly louts and cowers As bound so brave a beauty to obey."

Montgomery here has clearly in his mind's eye the Lily now so called; but the name was not so restricted in the earlier writers. "Lilium, cojus vox generali et licentiosa usurpatione adscribitur omni flori commendabili" (Laurembergius, 1632). This was certainly the case with the Greek and Roman writers, and it is so in our English Bible in most of the cases where the word is used, but perhaps not universally so. It is so used by Gower, describing Tarquin cutting off the tall flowers, by some said to be Poppies and by others Lilies--

"And in the garden as they gone, The Lilie croppes one and one, Where that they were sprongen out, He smote off, as they stood about."

_Conf. Ama._ lib. sept.

It is used in the same way by Bullein when, speaking of the flower of the Honeysuckle (_see_ HONEYSUCKLE), and it must have been used in the same sense by Isaak Walton, when he saw a boy gathering "Lilies and Lady-smocks" in the meadows.

We have still many records of this loose way of speaking of the Lily, in the Water Lily, the Lily of the Valley, the Lent Lily, St. Bruno's Lily, the Scarborough Lily, the Belladonna Lily, and several others, none of which are true Lilies.

But it is time to come to Shakespeare's Lilies. In all the twenty-eight passages the greater portion simply recall the Lily as the type of elegance and beauty, without any special reference to the flower, and in many the word is only used to express a colour, Lily-white. But in the others he doubtless had some special plant in view, and there are two species which, from contemporary writers, seem to have been most celebrated in his day. The one is the pure White Lily (_Lilium candidum_), a plant of which the native country is not yet quite accurately ascertained. It is reported to grow wild in abundance in Lebanon, and it probably came to England from the East in very early times. It was certainly largely grown in Europe in the Middle Ages, and was universally acknowledged by artists, sculptors, and architects, as the emblem of female elegance and purity, and none of us would dispute its claim to such a position. There is no other Lily which can surpass it, when well grown, in stateliness and elegance, with sweet-scented flowers of the purest white and the most graceful shape, and crowning the top of the long leafy stem with such a coronal as no other plant can show. On the rare beauties and excellences of the White Lily it would be easy to fill a volume merely with extracts from old writers, and such a volume would be far from uninteresting. Those who wish for some such account may refer to the "Monographie Historique et Littéraire des Lis," par Fr. de Cannart d'Hamale, 1870. There they will find more than fifty pages of the botany, literary history, poetry, and medical uses of the plant, together with its application to religious emblems, numismatics, heraldry, painting, &c. Two short extracts will suffice here:--"Le lis blanc, surnommé la fleur des fleurs, les délices de Venus, la Rose de Junon, qu'Anguillara désigna sous le nom d'Ambrosia, probablement à cause de son parfum suivant, et pent être aussi de sa soidisante divine origine, se place tout naturellement à le tête de ce groupe splendide." "C'est le Lis classique, par excellence, et en même temps le plus beau du genre."

The other is the large Scarlet or Chalcedonian Lily; and this also is one of the very handsomest, though its beauty is of a very different kind to the White Lily. The habit of the plant is equally stately, and is indeed very grand, but the colours are of the brightest and clearest red. These two plants were abundantly grown in Shakespeare's time, but besides these there do not seem to have been more than about half-a-dozen species in cultivation. There are now forty-six recognized species, besides varieties in great number.

The Lily has a very wide geographical range, spreading from Central Europe to the Philippines, and species are found in all quarters of the globe, though the chief homes of the family seem to be in California and Japan. Yet we have no wild Lily in England. Both the Martagon and the Pyrenean Lily have been found, but there is no doubt they are garden escapes.

As a garden plant it may safely be said that no garden can make any pretence to the name that cannot show a good display of Lilies, many or few. Yet the Lily is a most capricious plant; while in one garden almost any sort will grow luxuriantly, in a neighbouring garden it is found difficult to grow any in a satisfactory manner. Within the last few years their culture has been much studied, and by the practical knowledge of such great growers of the family as G. F. Wilson, H. J. Elwes, and other kindred liliophilists, we shall probably in a few years have many difficulties cleared up both in the botanical history and the cultivation of this lovely tribe.

But we cannot dismiss the Lily without a few words of notice of its sacred character. It is the flower specially dedicated to the Virgin Mary, and which is so familiar to us in the old paintings of the Annunciation. But it has, of course, a still higher character as a sacred plant from the high honour placed on it by our Lord in the Sermon on the Mount. After all that has been written on "the Lilies of the field," critics have not yet decided whether any, and, if so, what particular plant was meant. Each Eastern traveller seems to have selected the flower that he most admired in Palestine, and then to pronounce that that must be the Lily referred to. Thus, at various times it has been decided to be the Rose, the Crown Imperial, the White Lily, the Chalcedonian Lily, the Oleander, the Wild Artichoke, the Sternbergia, the Tulip, and many others, but the most generally received opinion now is, that if a true Lily at all, the evidence runs most strongly in favour of the L. Chalcedonicum; but that Dean Stanley's view is more probably the correct one, that the term "Lily" is generic, alluding to the many beautiful flowers, both of the Lily family and others, which abound in Palestine. The question, though deeply interesting, is not one for which we need to be over-curious as to the true answer. All of us, and gardeners especially, may be thankful for the words which have thrown a never dying charm over our favourites, and have effectually stopped any foolish objections that may be brought against the deepest study of flowers, as a petty study, with no great results. To any such silly objections (and we often hear them) the answer is a very short and simple one--that we have been bidden by the very highest authority to "consider the Lilies."

FOOTNOTES:

[140:1] This is a modern reading, the older and more correct reading is "twilled."

[142:1]

"Within the garden's peaceful scene Appeared two lovely foes, Aspiring to the rank of Queen, The Lily and the Rose.

* * * * *

Yours is, she said, the noblest hue, And yours the statelier mien, And till a third surpasses you Let each be deemed a Queen."--COWPER.

LIME.

(1) _Ariel._

All prisoners, sir, In the Line-grove which weather-fends your cell.

_Tempest_, act v, sc. 1 (9).

(2) _Prospero._

Come, hang them on this Line.

_Ibid._, act iv, sc. 1 (193).

(3) _Stephano._

Mistress Line, is not this my jerkin?

_Ibid._, act iv, sc. 1 (235).

It is only in comparatively modern times that the old name of Line or Linden, or Lind,[146:1] has given place to Lime. The tree is a doubtful native, but has been long introduced, perhaps by the Romans. It is a very handsome tree when allowed room, but it bears clipping well, and so is very often tortured into the most unnatural shapes. It was a very favourite tree with our forefathers to plant in avenues, not only for its rapid growth, but also for the delicious scent of its flowers; but the large secretions of honey-dew which load the leaves, and the fact that it comes late into leaf and sheds its leaves very early, have rather thrown it out of favour of late years. As a useful tree it does not rank very high, except for wood-carvers, who highly prize its light, easily-cut wood, that keeps its shape, and is very little liable to crack or split either in the working or afterwards. Nearly all Grinling Gibbons' delicate carving is in Lime wood. To gardeners the Lime is further useful as furnishing the material for bast or bazen mats,[147:1] which are made from its bark, and interesting as being the origin of the name of Linnæus.

FOOTNOTES:

[146:1] "Be ay of chier as light as lyf on Lynde."--CHAUCER, _The Clerkes Tale_, _l'envoi_.

[147:1] "Between the barke and the woode of this tree, there bee thin pellicles or skins lying in many folds together, whereof are made bands and cords called Bazen ropes."--PHILEMON HOLLAND'S _Pliny's Nat. Hist._ xvi. 14. The chapter is headed "Of the Line or Linden Tree."

LING.

_Gonzalo._

Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground, Ling, Heath, brown Furze, anything.

_Tempest_, act i, sc. 1 (70).

If this be the correct reading (and not Long Heath) the reference is to the Heather or Common Ling (_Calluna vulgaris_). This is the plant that is generally called Ling in the South of England, but in the North of England the name is given to the Cotton Grass (_Eriophorum_). It is very probable, however, that no particular plant is intended, but that it means any rough, wild vegetation, especially of open moors and heaths.

LOCUSTS.

_Iago._

The food that to him now is as luscious as Locusts, shall be to him shortly as bitter as Coloquintida.

_Othello_, act i, sc. 3 (354).

The Locust is the fruit of the Carob tree (_Ceratonia siliqua_), a tree that grows naturally in many parts of the South of Europe, the Levant, and Syria, and is largely cultivated for its fruit.[148:1] These are like Beans, full of sweet pulp, and are given in Spain and other southern countries to horses, pigs, and cattle, and they are occasionally imported into England for the same purpose. The Carob was cultivated in England before Shakespeare's time. "They grow not in this countrie," says Lyte, "yet, for all that, they be sometimes in the gardens of some diligent Herboristes, but they be so small shrubbes that they can neither bring forth flowers nor fruite." It was also grown by Gerard, and Shakespeare may have seen it; but it is now very seldom seen in any collection, though the name is preserved among us, as the jeweller's carat weight is said to have derived its name from the Carob Beans, which were used for weighing small objects.

The origin of the tree being called Locust is a little curious. Readers of the New Testament, ignorant of Eastern customs, could not understand that St. John could feed on the insect locust, which, however, is now known to be a common and acceptable article of food, so they looked about for some solution of their difficulty, and decided that the Locusts were the tender shoots of the Carob tree, and that the wild honey was the luscious juice of the Carob fruit. Having got so far it was easy to go farther, and so the Carob soon got the names of St. John's Bread and St. John's Beans, and the monks of the desert showed the very trees by which St. John's life was supported. But though the Carob tree did not produce the locusts on which St. John fed, there is little or no doubt that "the husks which the swine did eat," and which the Prodigal Son longed for, were the produce of the Carob tree.

FOOTNOTES:

[148:1] Pods of the Carob tree were found in a house at Pompeii. For an account of the use of the Locust as an article of food, both in ancient and modern times, see Hogg's "Classical Plants of Sicily," p. 114.

LONG PURPLES.

_Queen._

There with fantastic garlands did she come Of Crow-flowers, Nettles, Daisies, and Long Purples, That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, But our cold maids do Dead Men's Fingers call them.

_Hamlet_, act iv, sc. 7 (169).

In "Flowers from Stratford-on-Avon" (a pretty book published a few years ago with plates of twelve of Shakespeare's flowers) it is said that "there can be no doubt that the Wild Arum is the plant alluded to by Shakespeare as forming part of the nosegay of the crazed Ophelia;" but the authoress gives no authority for this statement, and I believe that there can be no reasonable doubt that the Long Purples and Dead Men's Fingers are the common purple Orchises of the woods and meadows (Orchis morio, O. mascula, and O. maculata). The name of Dead Men's Fingers was given to them from the pale palmate roots of some of the species (O. latifolia, O. maculata, and Gymnadenia conopsea), and this seems to have been its more common name.

"Then round the meddowes did she walke, Catching each flower by the stalke, Such as within the meddowes grew, As Dead Man's Thumb and Harebell blew; And as she pluckt them, still cried she, Alas! there's none 'ere loved like me."

_Roxburghe Ballads._

As to the other names to which the Queen alludes, we need not inquire too curiously; they are given in all their "liberality" and "grossness" in the old Herbals, but as common names they are, fortunately, extinct. The name of Dead Men's Fingers still lingers in a few places, but Long Purples has been transferred to a very different plant. It is named by Clare and Tennyson--

"Gay Long-purples with its tufty spike; She'd wade o'er shoes to reach it in the dyke."

CLARE'S _Village Minstrel_, ii, 90.

"Round thee blow, self-pleached deep, Bramble Roses, faint and pale, And Long Purples of the dale."

_A Dirge_, TENNYSON.

But in both these passages the plant intended is the Lythrum salicaria, or Purple Loosestrife.

The meadow Orchis, though so common, is thus without any common English name; for though I have often asked country people for its name, I have never obtained one; and so it is another of those curious instances which are so hard to explain, where an old and common English word has been replaced by a Greek or Latin word, which must be entirely without meaning to nine-tenths of those who use it.[150:1] There are similar instances in Crocus, Cyclamen, Hyacinth, Narcissus, Anemone, Beet, Lichen, Polyanthus, Polypody, Asparagus, and others.

The Orchid family is certainly the most curious in the vegetable kingdom, as it is almost the most extensive, except the Grasses. Growing all over the world, in any climate, and in all kinds of situations, it numbers 3000 species, of which we have thirty-seven native species in England; and with their curious irregular flowers, often of very beautiful colours, and of wonderful quaintness and variety of shape, they are everywhere so distinct that the merest tyro in botany can separate them from any other flower, and the deepest student can find endless puzzles in them, and increasing interest.

Though the most beautiful are exotics, and are the chief ornaments of our stoves and hothouses, yet our native species are full of interest and beauty. Of their botanical interest we have a most convincing proof in Darwin's "Fertilization of Orchids," a book that is almost entirely confined to the British Orchids, and which, in its wonderfully clear statements, and its laborious collection of many little facts all leading up to his scientific conclusions, is certainly not the least to be admired among his other learned and careful books. And as to their horticultural interest, it is most surprising that so few gardeners make the use of them that they might. They were not so despised in Shakespeare's time, for Gerard grew a large number in his garden. It is true that some of them are very impatient of garden cultivation, especially those of the Ophrys section (such as the Bee, Fly, and Spider Orchises), and the rare O. hircina, which will seldom remain in the garden above two or three years, except under very careful and peculiar cultivation. But, on the other hand, there are many that rejoice in being transferred to a garden, especially O. maculata, O. mascula, O. pyramidalis, and the Butterfly Orchis of both kinds (Habenaria bifolia and chlorantha). These, if left undisturbed, increase in size and beauty every year, their flowers become larger, and their leaves (in O. maculata and O. mascula) become most beautifully spotted. They may be placed anywhere, but their best place seems to be among low shrubs, or on the rockwork. Nor must the hardy Orchid grower omit the beautiful American species, especially the Cypripedia (C. spectabile, C. pubescens, C. acaule, and others). They are among the most beautiful of low hardy plants, and they succeed perfectly in any peat border that is not too much exposed to the sun. The only caution required is to leave them undisturbed; they resent removal and broken roots; and though I hold it to be one of the first rules of good gardening to give away to others as much as possible, yet I would caution any one against dividing his good clumps of Cypripedia. The probability is that both giver and receiver will lose the plants. If, however, a plant must be divided, the whole plant should be carefully lifted, and most gently pulled to pieces with the help of water.

FOOTNOTES:

[150:1] Though country people generally have no common name for the Orchis morio, yet it is called in works on English Botany the Fool Orchis; and it has the local names of "Crake-feet" in Yorkshire; of "giddy-gander" in Dorset; and "Keatlegs and Neatlegs" in Kent. Dr. Prior also gives the names "Goose and goslings" and "Gander-gooses" for Orchis morio, and "Standerwort" for Orchis mascula. This last is the Anglo-Saxon name for the flower, but it is now, I believe, quite extinct.

LOVE-IN-IDLENESS, _see_ PANSY.

MACE.

_Clown._

I must have Saffron to colour the warden-pies--Mace--Dates? none.

_Winter's Tale_, act iv, sc. 3 (48).

The Mace is the pretty inner rind that surrounds the Nutmeg, when ripe. It was no doubt imported with the Nutmeg in Shakespeare's time. (_See_ NUTMEG.)

MALLOWS.

_Antonio._

He'ld sow't with Nettle seed.

_Sebastian._

Or Docks, or Mallows.

_Tempest_, act ii, sc. 1 (145).

The Mallow is the common roadside weed (_Malva sylvestris_), which is not altogether useless in medicine, though the Marsh Mallow far surpasses it in this respect. Ben Jonson speaks of it as an article of food--

"The thresher . . . feeds on Mallows and such bitter herbs."

_The Fox_, act i, sc. 1.

It is not easy to believe that our common Wild Mallow was so used, and Jonson probably took the idea from Horace--

"Me pascant olivæ, Me chichorea, levesque malvæ."

But the common Mallow is a dear favourite with children, who have ever loved to collect, and string, and even eat its "cheeses:" and these cheeses are a delight to others besides children. Dr. Lindley, certainly one of the most scientific of botanists, can scarcely find words to express his admiration of them. "Only compare a vegetable cheese," he says, "with all that is exquisite in marking and beautiful in arrangement in the works of man, and how poor and contemptible do the latter appear. . . . Nor is it alone externally that this inimitable beauty is to be discovered; cut the cheese across, and every slice brings to view cells and partitions, and seeds and embryos, arranged with an unvarying regularity, which would be past belief if we did not know from experience, how far beyond all that the mind can conceive, is the symmetry with which the works of Nature are constructed."

As a garden plant of course the Wild Mallow has no place, though the fine-cut leaves and faint scent of the Musk Mallow (_M. moschata_) might demand a place for it in those parts where it is not wild, and especially the white variety, which is of the purest white, and very ornamental. But our common Mallow is closely allied to some of the handsomest plants known. The Hollyhock is one very near relation, the beautiful Hibiscus is another, and the very handsome Fremontia Californica is a third that has only been added to our gardens during the last few years. Nor is it only allied to beauty, for it also claims as a very near relation a plant which to many would be considered the most commercially useful plant in the world, the Cotton-plant.

MANDRAGORA, OR MANDRAKES.

(1) _Cleopatra._

Give me to drink Mandragora.

_Charmian._

Why, madam?

_Cleopatra._

That I might sleep out this great gap of time, My Antony is away.

_Antony and Cleopatra_, act i, sc. 5 (4).

(2) _Iago._

Not Poppy, nor Mandragora, Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep Which thou owedst yesterday.

_Othello_, act iii, sc. 3 (330).

(3) _Falstaff._

Thou Mandrake.

_2nd Henry IV_, act i, sc. 2 (16).

(4) _Ditto._

They called him Mandrake.

_Ibid._, act iii, sc. 2 (338).

(5) _Suffolk._

Would curses kill, as doth the Mandrake's groan.

_2nd Henry VI_, act iii, sc. 2 (310).

(6) _Juliet._

And shrieks like Mandrakes' torn out of the earth That living mortals, hearing them, run mad.

_Romeo and Juliet_, act iv, sc. 3 (47).

There is, perhaps, no plant on which so many books and treatises (containing for the most part much sad nonsense) have been written as the Mandrake, and there is certainly no plant round which so much superstition has gathered, all of which is more or less silly and foolish, and a great deal that is worse than silly. This, no doubt, arose from its first mention in connection with Leah and Rachel, and then in the Canticles, which, perhaps, shows that even in those days some strange qualities were attributed to the plant; but how from that beginning such, and such wide-spread, superstitions could have arisen, it is hard to say. I can scarcely tell these superstitious fables in better words than Gerard described them: "There hath been many ridiculous tales brought up of this plant, whether of old wives or some runagate surgeons or physicke-mongers I know not. . . . They adde that it is never or very seldome to be found growing naturally but under a gallowes, where the matter that has fallen from a dead body hath given it the shape of a man, and the matter of a woman the substance of a female plant, with many other such doltish dreams. They fable further and affirme that he who would take up a plant thereof must tie a dog thereunto to pull it up, which will give a great shreeke at the digging up, otherwise, if a man should do it, he should surely die in a short space after." This, with the addition that the plant is decidedly narcotic, will sufficiently explain all Shakespeare's references. Gerard, however, omits to notice one thing which, in justice to our forefathers, should not be omitted. These fables on the Mandrake are by no means English mediæval fables, but they were of foreign extraction, and of very ancient date. Josephus tells the same story as held by the Jews in his time and before his time. Columella even spoke of the plant as "semi-homo;" and Pythagoras called it "Anthropomorphus;" and Dr. Daubeny has published in his "Roman Husbandry" a most curious drawing from the Vienna MS. of Dioscorides in the fifth century, "representing the Goddess of Discovery presenting to Dioscorides the root of this Mandrake" (of thoroughly human shape) "which she had just pulled up, while the unfortunate dog which had been employed for that purpose is depicted in the agonies of death."[154:1] All these beliefs have long, I should hope, been extinct among us; yet even now artists who draw the plant are tempted to fancy a resemblance to the human figure, and in the "Flora Græca," where, for the most part, the figures of the plants are most beautifully accurate, the figure of the Mandrake is painfully human.[154:2]

As a garden plant, the Mandrake is often grown, but more for its curiosity than its beauty; the leaves appear early in the spring, followed very soon by its dull and almost inconspicuous flowers, and then by its Apple-like fruit. This is the Spring Mandrake (_Mandragora vernalis_), but the Autumn Mandrake (_M. autumnalis_ or _microcarpa_) may be grown as an ornamental plant. The leaves appear in the autumn, and are succeeded by a multitude of pale-blue flowers about the size of and very much resembling the Anemone pulsatilla (see Sweet's "Flower Garden," vol. vii. No. 325). These remain in flower a long time. In my own garden they have been in flower from the beginning of November till May. I need only add that the Mandrake is a native of the South of Europe and other countries bordering on the Mediterranean, but it was very early introduced into England. It is named in Archbishop Ælfric's "Vocabulary" in the tenth century with the very expressive name of "Earth-apple;" it is again named in an Anglo-Saxon Vocabulary of the eleventh century (in the British Museum), but without any English equivalent; and Gerard cultivated both sorts in his garden.

FOOTNOTES:

[154:1] In the "Bestiary of Philip de Thaun" (12 cent.), published in Wright's Popular Treatises on Science written during the Middle Ages, the male and female Mandrake are actually reckoned among living beasts (p. 101).

[154:2] For some curious early English notices of the Mandrake, see "Promptorium Parvulorum," p. 324, note. See also Brown's "Vulgar Errors," book ii. c. 6, and Dr. M. C. Cooke's "Freaks of Plant Life."

MARIGOLD.

(1) _Perdita._

The Marigold that goes to bed wi' the sun, And with him rises weeping; these are flowers Of middle summer.

_Winter's Tale_, act iv, sc. 4 (105).

(2) _Marina._

The purple Violets and Marigolds Shall, as a carpet, hang upon thy grave While summer-days do last.

_Pericles_, act iv, sc. 1 (16).

(3) _Song._

And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes.

_Cymbeline_, act ii, sc. 3 (25).

(4)

Marigolds on death-beds blowing.

_Two Noble Kinsmen_, Introd. song.

(5)

Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread But as the Marigolds at the sun's eye.

_Sonnet_ xxv.

(6)

Her eyes, like Marigolds, had sheathed their light, And canopied in darkness sweetly lay, Till they might open to adorn the day.

_Lucrece_ (397).

There are at least three plants which claim to be the old Marigold. 1. The Marsh Marigold (_Caltha palustris_). This is a well-known golden flower--

"The wild Marsh Marigold shines like fire in swamps and hollows gray."

TENNYSON.

And there is this in favour of its being the flower meant, that the name signifies the golden blossom of the marish or marsh; but, on the other hand, the Caltha does not fulfil the conditions of Shakespeare's Marigold--it does not open and close its flowers with the sun. 2. The Corn Marigold (_Chrysanthemum segetum_), a very handsome but mischievous weed in Corn-fields, not very common in England and said not to be a true native, but more common in Scotland, where it is called Goulands. I do not think this is the flower, because there is no proof, as far as I know, that it was called Marigold in Shakespeare's time. 3. The Garden Marigold or Ruddes (_Calendula officinalis_). I have little doubt this is the flower meant; it was always a great favourite in our forefathers' gardens, and it is hard to give any reason why it should not be so in ours. Yet it has been almost completely banished, and is now seldom found but in the gardens of cottages and old farmhouses, where it is still prized for its bright and almost everlasting flowers (looking very like a Gazania) and evergreen tuft of leaves, while the careful housewife still picks and carefully stores the petals of the flowers, and uses them in broths and soups, believing them to be of great efficacy, as Gerard said they were, "to strengthen and comfort the heart;" though scarcely perhaps rating them as high as Fuller: "we all know the many and sovereign vertues . . . in your leaves, the Herb Generall in all pottage" ("Antheologie," 1655, p. 52).

The two properties of the Marigold--that it was always in flower, and that it turned its flowers to the sun and followed his guidance in their opening and shutting--made it a very favourite flower with the poets and emblem writers. T. Forster, in the "Circle of the Seasons," 1828, says that "this plant received the name of Calendula, because it was in flower on the calends of nearly every month. It has been called Marigold for a similar reason, being more or less in blow at the times of all the festivals of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the word gold having reference to its golden rays, likened to the rays of light around the head of the Blessed Virgin." This is ingenious, and, as he adds, "thus say the old writers," it is worth quoting, though he does not say what old writer gave this derivation, which I am very sure is not the true one. The old name is simply _goldes_. Gower, describing the burning of Leucothoe, says--

"She sprong up out of the molde Into a flour, was named Golde, Which stant governed of the Sonne."

_Conf. Aman._, lib. quint.

Chaucer spoke of the "yellow Goldes;"[157:1] in the "Promptorium Parvulorum" we have "Goolde, herbe, solsequium, quia sequitur solem, elitropium, calendula;" and Spenser says--

"And if I her like ought on earth might read I would her liken to a crowne of Lillies, Upon a virgin brydes adorned head, With Roses dight and Goolds and Daffodillies."

_Colin Clout._

But it was its other quality of opening or shutting its flowers at the sun's bidding that made the Marigold such a favourite with the old writers, especially those who wrote on religious emblems. It was to them the emblem of constancy in affection,[157:2] and sympathy in joy and sorrow, though it was also the emblem of the fawning courtier, who can only shine when everything is bright. As the emblem of constancy, it was to the old writers what the Sunflower was to Moore--

"The Sunflower turns on her god when he sets The same look which she did when he rose."

It was the Heliotrope or Solsequium or Turnesol of our forefathers, and is the flower often alluded to under that name.[158:1] "All yellow flowers," says St. Francis de Sales, "and, above all, those that the Greeks call Heliotrope, and we call Sunflower, not only rejoice at the sight of the sun, but follow with loving fidelity the attraction of its rays, gazing at the sun, and turning towards it from its rising to its setting" ("Divine Love," Mulholland's translation).

Of this higher and more religious use of the emblematic flower there are frequent examples. I will only give one from G. Withers, a contemporary of Shakespeare's later life--

"When with a serious musing I behold The grateful and obsequious Marigold, How duly every morning she displays Her open breast when Phoebus spreads his rays; How she observes him in his daily walk, Still bending towards him her small slender stalk; How when he down declines she droops and mourns, Bedewed, as 'twere, with tears till he returns; And how she veils her flowers when he is gone. When this I meditate, methinks the flowers Have spirits far more generous than ours, And give us fair examples to despise The servile fawnings and idolatries Wherewith we court these earthly things below, Which merit not the service we bestow."

From the time of Withers the poets treated the Marigold very much as the gardeners did--they passed it by altogether as beneath their notice.

FOOTNOTES:

[157:1]

"That werud of yolo Guldes a garland."

_The Knightes Tale._

[157:2]

"You the Sun to her must play, She to you the Marigold, To none but you her leaves unfold."

MIDDLETON AND ROWLEY, _The Spanish Gipsy_.

See also Thynne's "Emblems," No. 18; and Cutwode's "Caltha Poetarum," 1599, st. 18, 19.

[158:1] "Solsequium vel heliotropium; Solsece vel sigel-hwerfe" (_i.e._, sun-seeker or sun-turner).--ÆLFRIC'S _Vocabulary_.

"Marigolde; solsequium, sponsa solis."--_Catholicon Anglicum._

In a note Mr. Herttage says, "the oldest name for the plant was _ymbglidegold_, that which moves round with the sun."

MARJORAM.

(1) _Perdita._

Here's flowers for you; Hot Lavender, Mints, Savory, Marjoram.

_Winter's Tale_, act iv, sc. 4 (103).

(2) _Lear._

Give the word.

_Edgar._

Sweet Marjoram.

_Lear._ Pass.

_King Lear_, act iv, sc. 6 (93).

(3)

The Lily I condemned for thy hand, And buds of Marjoram had stolen thy hair.

_Sonnet_ xcix.

(4) _Clown._

Indeed, sir, she was the sweet Marjoram of the Salad, or rather the Herb-of-grace.

_All's Well that Ends Well_, act iv, sc. 5 (17).

In Shakespeare's time several species of Marjoram were grown, especially the Common Marjoram (_Origanum vulgare_), a British plant, the Sweet Marjoram (_O. Marjorana_), a plant of the South of Europe, from which the English name comes,[159:1] and the Winter Marjoram (_O. Horacleoticum_). They were all favourite pot herbs, so that Lyte calls the common one "a delicate and tender herb," "a noble and odoriferous plant;" but, like so many of the old herbs, they have now fallen into disrepute. The comparison of a man's hair to the buds of Marjoram is not very intelligible, but probably it was a way of saying that the hair was golden.

FOOTNOTES:

[159:1] See "Catholicon Anglicum," s.v. Marioron and note.

MARYBUDS, _see_ MARIGOLD.

MAST.

_Timon._

The Oaks bear Mast, the Briers scarlet hips.

_Timon of Athens_, act iv, sc. 3 (174).

We still call the fruit of beech, beech-masts, but do not apply the name to the acorn. It originally meant food used for fatting, especially for fatting swine. See note in "Promptorium Parvulorum," p. 329, giving several instances of this use, and Strattmann, s.v. Mæst.

MEDLAR.

(1) _Apemantus._

There's a Medlar for thee, eat it.

_Timon._

On what I hate I feed not.

_Apemantus._

Dost hate a Medlar?

_Timon._

Ay, though it looks like thee.

_Apemantus._

An thou hadst hated Meddlers sooner, thou shouldst have loved thyself better now.

_Timon of Athens_, act iv, sc. 3 (305).

(2) _Lucio._

They would have married me to the rotten Medlar.

_Measure for Measure_, act iv, sc. 3 (183).

(3) _Touchstone._

Truly the tree yields bad fruit.

_Rosalind._

I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graff it with a Medlar; then it will be the earliest fruit in the country, for you'll be rotten ere you be half ripe, and that's the right virtue of the Medlar.

_As You Like It_, act iii, sc. 2 (122).

(4) _Mercutio._

Now will he sit under a Medlar tree. And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit As maids call Medlars when they laugh alone.

_Romeo and Juliet_, act ii, sc. 1 (80).[160:1]

The Medlar is an European tree, but not a native of England; it has, however, been so long introduced as to be now completely naturalized, and is admitted into the English flora. It is mentioned in the early vocabularies, and Chaucer gives it a very prominent place in his description of a beautiful garden--

"I was aware of the fairest Medler tree That ever yet in alle my life I sie, As ful of blossomes as it might be; Therein a goldfinch leaping pretile Fro' bough to bough, and as him list, he eet Here and there of buddes and floweres sweet."

_The Flower and the Leaf_ (240).

And certainly a fine Medlar tree "ful of blossomes" is a handsome ornament on any lawn. There are few deciduous trees that make better lawn trees. There is nothing stiff about the growth even from its early youth; it forms a low, irregular, picturesque tree, excellent for shade, with very handsome white flowers, followed by the curious fruit; it will not, however, do well in the North of England or Scotland.

It does not seem to have been a favourite fruit with our forefathers. Bullein says "the fruite called the Medler is used for a medicine and not for meate;" and Shakespeare only used the common language of his time when he described the Medlar as only fit to be eaten when rotten. Chaucer said just the same--

"That ilke fruyt is ever lenger the wers Till it be rote in mullok or in stree-- We olde men, I drede, so fare we, Till we be roten, can we not be rype."

_The Reeves Tale._

And many others writers to the same effect. But, in fact, the Medlar when fit to be eaten is no more rotten than a ripe Peach, Pear, or Strawberry, or any other fruit which we do not eat till it has reached a certain stage of softness. There is a vast difference between a ripe and a rotten Medlar, though it would puzzle many of us to say when a fruit (not a Medlar only) is ripe, that is, fit to be eaten. These things are matters of taste and fashion, and it is rather surprising to find that we are accused, and by good judges, of eating Peaches when rotten rather than ripe. "The Japanese always eat their Peaches in an unripe state. In the 'Gartenflora' Dr. Regel says, in some remarks on Japanese fruit trees, that the Japanese regard a ripe Peach as rotten."

There are a few varieties of the Medlar, differing in the size and flavour of the fruits, which were also cultivated in Shakespeare's time.

FOOTNOTES:

[160:1] So Chester speaks of it as "the Young Man's Medlar" ("Love's Martyr," p. 96, New Sh. Soc.).

MINTS.

(1) _Perdita._

Here's flowers for you; Hot Lavender, Mints, Savory, Marjoram.

_Winter's Tale_, act iv, sc. 4 (103).

(2) _Armado._

I am that flower,

_Dumain._

That Mint.

_Longaville._

That Columbine.

_Love's Labour's Lost_, act v, sc. 2 (661).

The Mints are a large family of highly-perfumed, strong-flavoured plants, of which there are many British species, but too well known to call for any further description.

MISTLETOE.

_Tamora._

The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean, O'ercome with Moss and baleful Mistletoe.

_Titus Andronicus_, act ii, sc. 3 (94).

The Mistletoe was a sore puzzle to our ancestors, almost as great a mystery as the Fern. While they admired its fresh, evergreen branches, and pretty transparent fruit, and used it largely in the decoration of their houses at Christmas, they looked on the plant with a certain awe. Something of this, no doubt, arose from its traditional connection with the Druids, which invested the plant with a semi-sacred character, as a plant that could drive away evil spirits; yet it was also looked upon with some suspicion, perhaps also arising from its use by our heathen ancestors, so that, though admitted into houses, it was not (or very seldom) admitted into churches. And this character so far still attaches to the Mistletoe, that it is never allowed with the Holly and Ivy and Box to decorate the churches, and Gay's lines were certainly written in error--

"Now with bright Holly all the temples strow, With Laurel green and sacred Mistletoe."

The mystery attaching to the Mistletoe arose from the ignorance as to its production. It was supposed not to grow from its seeds, and how it was produced was a fit subject for speculation and fable. Virgil tells the story thus--

"Quale solet sylvis brumali frigore viscum Fronde virere novâ, quod non sua seminat arbos, Et croceo foetu teretes circumdare truncos."

_Æneid_, vi, 205.

In this way Virgil elegantly veils his ignorance, but his commentator in the eighteenth century (Delphic Classics) tells the tale without any doubts as to its truth. "Non nascitur e semine proprio arboris, at neque ex insidentum volucrum fimo, ut putavere veteres, sed ex ipso arborum vitali excremento." This was the opinion of the great Lord Bacon; he ridiculed the idea that the Mistletoe was propagated by the operation of a bird as an idle tradition, saying that the sap which produces the plant is such as "the tree doth excerne and cannot assimilate," and Browne ("Vulgar Errors") was of the same opinion. But the opposite opinion was perpetuated in the very name ("Mistel: fimus, muck," Cockayne),[163:1] and was held without any doubt by most of the writers in Shakespeare's time--

"Upon the oak, the plumb-tree and the holme, The stock-dove and the blackbird should not come, Whose mooting on the trees does make to grow Rots-curing hyphear, and the Mistletoe."

BROWNE, _Brit. Past._ i, 1.

So that we need not blame Gerard when he boldly said that "this excrescence hath not any roote, neither doth encrease himselfe of his seed, as some have supposed, but it rather commethe of a certaine moisture gathered together upon the boughes and joints of the trees, through the barke whereof this vaporous moisture proceeding bringeth forth the Misseltoe." We now know that it is produced exclusively from the seeds probably lodged by the birds, and that it is easily grown and cultivated. It will grow and has been found on almost any deciduous tree, preferring those with soft bark, and growing very seldom on the Oak.[163:2] Those who wish for full information upon the proportionate distribution of the Mistletoe on different British trees will find a good summary in "Notes and Queries," vol. iii. p. 226.

FOOTNOTES:

[163:1] "_Mistel_ est a _mist_ stercus, quod ex stercore avium pronascitur, nec aliter pronasci potest."--WACHTER, _Glossary_ (quoted in "Notes and Queries," 3rd series, vii. 157. In the same volume are several papers on the origin of the word). Dr. Prior derives it from _mistl_ (different), and _tan_ (twig), being so unlike the tree it grows upon.

[163:2] Mistletoe growing on an oak had a special legendary value. Its rarity probably gave it value in the eyes of the Druids, and much later it had its mystic lore. "By sitting upon a hill late in a evening, near a Wood, in a few nights a fire drake will appeare, mark where it lighteth, and then you shall find an oake with Mistletoe thereon, at the Root whereof there is a Misle-childe, whereof many strange things are conceived. _Beati qui non crediderunt._"--PLAT., _Garden of Eden_, 1659, No. 68.

MOSS.

(1) _Adriana._

If ought possess thee from me, it is dross, Usurping Ivy, Brier, or idle Moss.

_Comedy of Errors_, act ii, sc. 2 (179).

(2) _Tamora._

The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean, O'ercome with Moss and baleful Mistletoe.

_Titus Andronicus_, act ii, sc. 3 (94).

(3) _Apemantus._

These Moss'd trees That have outlived the eagle.

_Timon of Athens_, act iv, sc. 3 (223).

(4) _Hotspur._

Steeples and Moss-grown towers.

_1st Henry IV_, act iii, sc. 1 (33).

(5) _Oliver._

Under an Oak whose boughs were Moss'd with age, And high top bald with dry antiquity.

_As You Like It_, act iv, sc. 3 (105).

(6) _Arviragus._

The ruddock would, With charitable bill,

* * * * *

bring thee all this; Yea, and furr'd Moss besides, when flowers are none, To winter-ground thy corse.

_Cymbeline_, act iv, sc. 2 (224).[164:1]

If it were not for the pretty notice of Moss in the last passage (6), we should be inclined to say that Shakespeare had as little regard for "idle Moss" as for the "baleful Mistletoe." In his day Moss included all the low-growing and apparently flowerless carpet plants which are now divided into the many families of Mosses, Lichens, Club Mosses, Hepaticæ, Jungermanniæ, &c., &c. And these plants, though holding no rank in the eyes of a florist, are yet deeply interesting, perhaps no family of plants more so, to those who have time and patience to study them. The Club Mosses, indeed, may claim a place in the garden if they can only be induced to grow, but that is a difficult task, and the tenderer Lycopodiums are always favourites when well grown among greenhouse Ferns; but for the most part, the Mosses must be studied in their native haunts, and when so studied, they are found to be full of beauty and of wonderful construction. Nor are they without use, and it is rather strange that Shakespeare should have so markedly called them "idle," or useless, considering that in his day many medical virtues were attributed to them. This reputation for medical virtues they have now all lost, except the Iceland Moss, which is still in use for invalids; but the Mosses have other uses. The Reindeer Moss (_Cladonia rangiferina_) and Roch-hair (_Alectoria jubata_) are indispensable to the Laplander as food for his reindeer, and Usnea florida is used in North America as food for cattle; the Iceland Moss (_Cetraria Islandica_) is equally indispensable as an article of food to all the inhabitants of the extreme North; and the Tripe de la Roche (_Gyrophora cylindrica_) has furnished food to the Arctic explorers when no other food could be obtained; while many dyes are produced from the Lichens, especially the Cudbear (a most discordant corruption of the name of the discoverer, Mr. Cuthbert), which is the produce of the Rock Moss (_Lecanora tartarea_). So that even to us the Mosses have their uses, even if they do not reach the uses that they have in North Sweden, where, according to Miss Bremer, "the forest, which is the countryman's workshop, is his storehouse, too. With the various Lichens that grow upon the trees and rocks, he cures the virulent diseases with which he is sometimes afflicted, dyes the articles of clothes which he wears, and poisons the noxious and dangerous animals which annoy him."

As to the beauty of Mosses and Lichens we have only to ask any artist or go into any exhibition of pictures. Their great beauty has been so lovingly described by Ruskin ("Modern Painters"), that no one can venture to do more than quote his description. It is well known to many, but none will regret having it called to their remembrance--"placuit semel--decies repetita placebit"--space, however, will oblige me somewhat to curtail it. "Meek creatures! the first mercy of the earth, veiling with hushed softness its dentless rocks: creatures full of pity, covering with strange and tender honour the sacred disgrace of ruin, laying quiet fingers on the trembling stones to teach them rest. No words that I know of will say what these Mosses are; none are delicate enough, none perfect enough, none rich enough.. . . . They will not be gathered like the flowers for chaplet or love token; but of these the wild bird will make its nest and the wearied child its pillow, and as the earth's first mercy so they are its last gift to us. When all other service is vain from plant and tree, the soft Mosses and grey Lichens take up their watch by the headstone. The woods, the blossoms, the gift-bearing Grasses have done their parts for a time, but these do service for ever. Trees for the builder's yard, flowers for the bride's chamber, Corn for the granary, Moss for the grave."

FOOTNOTES:

[164:1] There may be special appropriateness in the selection of the "furr'd Moss" to "winter-ground thy corse." "The final duty of Mosses is to die; the main work of other leaves is in their life, but these have to form the earth, out of which other leaves are to grow."--RUSKIN, _Proserpina_, p. 20.

MULBERRIES.

(1) _Titania._

Feed him with Apricocks and Dewberries, With purple Grapes, green Figs, and Mulberries.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act iii, sc. 1 (169).

(2) _Volumnia._

Thy stout heart, Now humble as the ripest Mulberry That will not bear the handling.

_Coriolanus_, act iii, sc. 2 (78).

(3) _Prologue._

Thisby tarrying in Mulberry shade.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act v, sc. 1 (149).

(4) _Wooer._

Palamon is gone Is gone to the wood to gather Mulberries.

_Two Noble Kinsmen_, act iv, sc. 1 (87).

(5)

The birds would bring him Mulberries and ripe-red Cherries.

_Venus and Adonis_ (1103). (_See_ CHERRIES.)

We do not know when the Mulberry, which is an Eastern tree, was introduced into England, but probably very early. We find in Archbishop Ælfric's "Vocabulary," "morus vel rubus, mor-beam," but it is doubtful whether that applies to the Mulberry or Blackberry, as in the same catalogue Blackberries are mentioned as "flavi vel mori, blace-berian." There is no doubt that Morum was a Blackberry as well as a Mulberry in classical times. Our Mulberry is probably the fruit mentioned by Horace--

"Ille salubres Æstates peraget, qui nigris prandia Moris Finiet ante gravem quæ legerit arbore solem."

_Sat._ ii, 4, 24.

And it certainly is the fruit mentioned by Ovid--

"In duris hærentia mora rubetis."

_Metam._, i, 105.

In the Dictionarius of John de Garlande (thirteenth century)[167:1] we find, "Hec sunt nomina silvestrium arborum, qui sunt in luco magistri Johannis; quercus cum fago, pinus cum lauro, celsus gerens celsa;" and Mr. Wright translates "celsa" by "Mulberries," without, however, giving his authority for this translation.[167:2] But whenever introduced, it had been long established in England in Shakespeare's time.

It must have been a common tree even in Anglo-Saxon times, for the favourite drink, Morat, was a compound of honey flavoured with Mulberries (Turner's "Anglo-Saxons").[167:3] Spenser spoke of it--

"With love juice stained the Mulberie, The fruit that dewes the poet's braine."

_Elegy_, 18.

Gerard describes it as "high and full of boughes," and growing in sundry gardens in England, and he grew in his own London garden both the Black and the White Mulberry. Lyte also, before Gerard, describes it and says: "It is called in the fayning of Poetes the wisest of all other trees, for this tree only among all others bringeth forth his leaves after the cold frostes be past;" and the Mulberry Garden, often mentioned by the old dramatists, "occupied the site of the present Buckingham Palace and Gardens, and derived its name from a garden of Mulberry trees planted by King James I. in 1609, in which year 935_l._ was expended by the king in the planting of Mulberry trees near the Palace of Westminster."[168:1]

As an ornamental tree for any garden, the Mulberry needs no recommendation, being equally handsome in shape, in foliage, and in fruit. It is a much prized ornament in all old gardens, so that it has been well said that an old Mulberry tree on the lawn is a patent of nobility to any garden; and it is most easy of cultivation; it will bear removal when of a considerable size, and so easily can it be propagated from cuttings that a story is told of Mr. Payne Knight that he cut large branches from a Mulberry tree to make standards for his clothes-lines, and that each standard took root, and became a flourishing Mulberry tree.

Though most of us only know of the common White or Black Mulberry, yet, where it is grown for silk culture (as it is now proposed to grow it in England, with a promised profit of from £70 to £100 per acre for the silk, and an additional profit of from £100 to £500 per acre from the grain (eggs)!!), great attention is paid to the different varieties; so that M. de Quatrefuges briefly describes six kinds cultivated in one valley in France, and Royle remarks, "so many varieties have been produced by cultivation that it is difficult to ascertain whether they all belong to one species; they are," as he adds, "nearly as numerous as those of the silkworm" (Darwin).

We have good proof of Shakespeare's admiration of the Mulberry in the celebrated Shakespeare Mulberry growing in his garden at New Place at Stratford-on-Avon. "That Shakespeare planted this tree is as well authenticated as anything of that nature can be, . . . and till this was planted there was no Mulberry tree in the neighbourhood. The tree was celebrated in many a poem, one especially by Dibdin, but about 1752, the then owner of New Place, the Rev. Mr. Gastrell, bought and pulled down the house, and wishing, as it should seem, to be 'damned to everlasting fame,' he had some time before cut down Shakespeare's celebrated Mulberry tree, to save himself the trouble of showing it to those whose admiration of our great poet led them to visit the poetick ground on which it stood."--MALONE. The pieces were made into many snuff-boxes[169:1] and other mementoes of the tree.

"The Mulberry tree was hung with blooming wreaths; The Mulberry tree stood centre of the dance; The Mulberry tree was hymn'd with dulcet strains; And from his touchwood trunk the Mulberry tree Supplied such relics as devotion holds Still sacred, and preserves with pious care."

COWPER, _Task_, book vi.

FOOTNOTES:

[167:1] The Dictionarius of John de Garlande is published in Wright's "Vocabularies." His garden was probably in the neighbourhood of Paris, but he was a thorough Englishman, and there is little doubt that his description of a garden was drawn as much from his English as from his French experience.

[167:2] The authority may be in the "Promptorium Parvulorum:" "Mulberry, Morum (selsus)."

[167:3] "Moratum potionis genus, f. ex vino et moris dilutis confectæ."--_Glossarium Adelung._

[168:1] Cunningham's "Handbook of London," p. 346, with many quotations from the old dramatists.

[169:1] Some of these snuff-boxes were inscribed with the punning motto "Memento Mori."

MUSHROOMS.

(1) _Prospero._

You demi-puppets, that By moonshine do the greensour ringlets make, Whereof the ewe not bites, and you whose pastime Is to make midnight Mushrooms.

_Tempest_, act v, sc. 1 (36).

(2) _Fairy._

I do wander everywhere. Swifter than the moon's sphere; And I serve the fairy queen, To dew her orbs upon the green.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act ii, sc. 1 (6).

(3) _Quickly._

And nightly, meadow-fairies, look you sing, Like to the Garter's compass, in a ring: The expressure that it bears, green let it be, More fertile-fresh than all the field to see.

_Merry Wives_, act v, sc. 5 (69).

(4) _Ajax._

Toadstool, learn me the proclamation.

_Troilus and Cressida_, act ii, sc. 1 (22).

The three first passages, besides the notice of the Mushroom, contain also the notice of the fairy-rings, which are formed by fungi, though probably Shakespeare knew little of this. No. 4 names the Toadstool, and the four passages together contain the whole of Shakespeare's fungology, and it is little to be wondered at that he has not more to say on these curious plants. In his time "Mushrumes or Toadstooles" (they were all classed together) were looked on with very suspicious eyes, though they were so much eaten that we frequently find in the old herbals certain remedies against "a surfeit of Mushrooms." Why they should have been connected with toads has never been explained, but it was always so--

"The grieslie Todestoole growne there mought I see, And loathed paddocks lording on the same."--SPENSER.

They were associated with other loathsome objects besides toads, for "Poisonous Mushrooms groweth where old rusty iron lieth, or rotten clouts, or neere to serpent's dens or rootes of trees that bring forth venomous fruit.[170:1]. . . Few of them are good to be eaten, and most of them do suffocate and strangle the eater. Therefore, I give my advice unto those that love such strange and new-fangled meates to beware of licking honey among thornes, lest the sweetnesse of one do not counteracte the sharpnesse and pricking of the other." This was Gerard's prudent advice on the eating of "Mushrumes and Toadstooles," but nowadays we know better. The fungologists tell us that those who refuse to eat any fungus but the Mushroom (_Agaricus campestris_) are not only foolish in rejecting most delicate luxuries, but also very wrong in wasting most excellent and nutritious food. Fungologists are great enthusiasts, and it may be well to take their prescription _cum grano salis_; but we may qualify Gerard's advice by the well-known enthusiastic description of Dr. Badham, who certainly knew much more of fungology than Gerard, and did not recommend to others what he had not personally tried himself. After praising the beauty of an English autumn, even in comparison with Italy, he thus concludes his pleasant and useful book, "The Esculent Funguses of England": "I have myself witnessed whole hundredweights of rich, wholesome diet rotting under trees, woods teeming with food, and not one hand to gather it. . . . I have, indeed, grieved when I reflected on the straitened conditions of the lower orders to see pounds innumerable of extempore beefsteaks growing on our Oaks in the shape of _Fistula hepatica_; _Ag. fusipes_, to pickle in clusters under them; _Puffballs_, which some of our friends have not inaptly compared to sweet-bread for the rich delicacy of their unassisted flavour; _Hydna_, as good as oysters, which they very much resemble in taste; _Agaricus deliciosus_, reminding us of tender lamb's kidneys: the beautiful yellow _Chantarelle_, that _kalon kagathon_ of diet, growing by the bushel, and no basket but our own to pick up a few specimens in our way; the sweet nutty-flavoured _Boletus_, in vain calling himself _edulis_ when there was none to believe him; the dainty _Orcella_; the _Ag. hetherophyllus_, which tastes like the crawfish when grilled; the _Ag. ruber_ and _Ag. virescens_, to cook in any way, and equally good in all."

As to the fairy rings (Nos. 1, 2, and 3) a great amount of legendary lore was connected with them. Browne notices them--

"A pleasant mead Where fairies often did their measures tread, Which in the meadows makes such circles green As if with garlands it had crowned been."

_Britannia's Pastorals._

Cowley said--

"Where once such fairies dance, No grass does ever grow;"

and in Shakespeare's time the sheep refused to eat the grass on the fairy rings (1); I believe they now feed on it, but I have not been able to ascertain this with certainty. Others, besides the sheep, avoided them. "When the damsels of old gathered may-dew on the grass, which they made use of to improve their complexions, they left undisturbed such of it as they perceived on the fairy rings, apprehensive that the fairies should in revenge destroy their beauty, nor was it reckoned safe to put the foot within the rings, lest they should be liable to fairies' power."--DOUCE'S _Illustrations_, p. 180.

FOOTNOTES:

[170:1] Herrick calls them "brownest Toadstones."

MUSK ROSES, _see_ ROSE.

MUSTARD.

(1) _Doll._

They say Poins has a good wit.

_Falstaff._

He a good wit? hang him, baboon! his wit's as thick as Tewksbury Mustard; there is no more conceit in him than in a mallet.

_2nd Henry IV_, act ii, sc. 4 (260).

(2) _Titania._

Pease-blossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustardseed!

* * * * *

_Bottom._

Your name, I beseech you, sir?

_Mustardseed._

Mustardseed.

_Bottom._

Good Master Mustardseed, I know your patience well; that same cowardly giant-like ox-beef hath devoured many a gentleman of your house: I promise you your kindred hath made my eyes water ere now. I desire your more acquaintance, good Master Mustardseed.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act iii, sc. 1 (165, 194).

(3) _Bottom._

Where's the Mounsieur Mustardseed?

_Mustardseed._

Ready.

_Bottom._

Give me your neaf, Mounsieur Mustardseed. Pray you, leave your courtesy, good mounsieur.

_Mustardseed._

What's your will?

_Bottom._

Nothing, good mounsieur, but to help Cavalery Cobweb to scratch.

_Ibid._, act iv, sc. 1 (18).

(4) _Grumio._

What say you to a piece of beef and Mustard?

_Katharine._

A dish that I do love to feed upon.

_Grumio._

Ay, but the Mustard is too hot a little.

_Katharine._

Why then, the beef, and let the Mustard rest.

_Grumio._

Nay, then, I will not; you shall have the Mustard, Or else you get no beef of Grumio.

_Katharine._

Then both, or one, or anything thou wilt.

_Grumio._

Why then, the Mustard without the beef.

_Taming of the Shrew_, act iv, sc. 3 (23).

(5) _Rosalind._

Where learned you that oath, fool?

_Touchstone._

Of a certain knight that swore by his honour they were good pancakes, and swore by his honour the mustard was naught; now I'll stand to it, the pancakes were naught, and the Mustard was good, yet was the knight not forsworn. . . . . You are not forsworn; no more was this knight swearing by his honour, for he never had any; or if he had, he had sworn it away before he ever saw those cakes or that Mustard.

_As You Like It_, act i, sc. 2 (65).

The following passage from Coles, in 1657, will illustrate No. 1: "In Gloucestershire about Teuxbury they grind Mustard and make it into balls which are brought to London and other remote places as being the best that the world affords." These Mustard balls were the form in which Mustard was usually sold, until Mrs. Clements, of Durham, in the last century, invented the method of dressing mustard-flour, like wheat-flour, and made her fortune with Durham Mustard; and it has been supposed that this was the only form in which Mustard was sold in Shakespeare's time, and that it was eaten dry as we eat pepper. But the following from an Anglo-Saxon Leech-book seems to speak of it as used exactly in the modern fashion. After mentioning several ingredients in a recipe for want of appetite for meat, it says: "Triturate all together--eke out with vinegar as may seem fit to thee, so that it may be wrought into the form in which Mustard is tempered for flavouring, put it then into a glass vessel, and then with bread, or with whatever meat thou choose, lap it with a spoon, that will help" ("Leech Book," ii. 5, Cockayne's translation). And Parkinson's account is to the same effect: "The seeds hereof, ground between two stones, fitted for the purpose, and called a quern, with some good vinegar added to it to make it liquid and running, is that kind of Mustard that is usually made of all sorts to serve as sauce both for fish and flesh." And to the same effect the "Boke of Nurture"--

"Yet make moche of Mustard, and put it not away, For with every dische he is dewest who so lust to assay."

(L. 853).

MYRTLE.

(1) _Euphronius._

I was of late as petty to his ends As is the morn-dew on the Myrtle-leaf To his grand sea.

_Antony and Cleopatra_, act iii, sc. 12 (8).

(2) _Isabella._

Merciful Heaven, Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled Oak Than the soft Myrtle.

_Measure for Measure_, act ii, sc. 2 (114).

(3)

Venus, with young Adonis sitting by her, Under a Myrtle shade began to woo him.

_Passionate Pilgrim_ (143).

(4)

Then sad she hasteth to a Myrtle grove.

_Venus and Adonis_ (865).

Myrtle is of course the English form of _myrtus_; but the older English name was Gale, a name which is still applied to the bog-myrtle.[174:1] Though a most abundant shrub in the South of Europe, and probably introduced into England before the time of Shakespeare, the myrtle was only grown in a very few places, and was kept alive with difficulty, so that it was looked upon not only as a delicate and an elegant rarity, but as the established emblem of refined beauty. In the Bible it is always associated with visions and representations of peacefulness and plenty, and Milton most fitly uses it in the description of our first parents' "blissful bower"--

"The roofe Of thickest covert was inwoven shade, Laurel and Mirtle, and what higher grew Of firm and fragrant leaf."

_Paradise Lost_, iv.

In heathen times the Myrtle was dedicated to Venus, and from this arose the custom in mediæval times of using the flowers for bridal garlands, which thus took the place of Orange blossoms in our time.

"The lover with the Myrtle sprays Adorns his crisped cresses."

DRAYTON, _Muse's Elysium_.

"And I will make thee beds of Roses, And a thousand fragrant posies, A cap of flowers, and a kirtle Embroidered o'er with leaves of Myrtle."

_Roxburghe Ballads._

As a garden shrub every one will grow the Myrtle that can induce it to grow. There is no difficulty in its cultivation, provided only that the climate suits it, and the climate that suits it best is the neighbourhood of the sea. Virgil describes the Myrtles as "amantes littora myrtos," and those who have seen the Myrtle as it grows on the Devonshire and Cornish coasts will recognise the truth of his description.

FOOTNOTES:

[174:1] "Gayle; mirtus."--_Catholicon Anglicum_, p. 147, with note.

NARCISSUS.

_Emilia._

This garden has a world of pleasures in't, What flowre is this?

_Servant._

'Tis called Narcissus, madam.

_Emilia._

That was a faire boy certaine, but a foole, To love himselfe; were there not maides enough?

_Two Noble Kinsmen_, act ii, sc. 2 (130).

_See_ DAFFODILS, p. 73.

NETTLES.

(1) _Cordelia._

Crown'd with rank Fumiter and Furrow-weeds, With Burdocks, Hemlock, Nettles, Cuckoo-flowers.

_King Lear_, act iv, sc. 4. (3).

(2) _Queen._

Crow-flowers, Nettles, Daisies, and Long Purples.

_Hamlet_, act iv, sc. 7 (170). (_See_ CROW-FLOWERS.)

(3) _Antonio._

He'd sow't with Nettle-seed.

_Tempest_, act ii, sc. 1 (145).

(4) _Saturninus._

Look for thy reward Among the Nettles at the Elder Tree.

_Titus Andronicus_, act ii, sc. 3 (271).

(5) _Sir Toby._

How now, my Nettle of India?

_Twelfth Night_, act ii, sc. 5 (17).[176:1]

(6) _King Richard._

Yield stinging Nettles to my enemies.

_Richard II_, act iii, sc. 2 (18).

(7) _Hotspur._

I tell you, my lord fool, out of this Nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety.

_1st Henry IV_, act ii, sc. 3 (8).

(8) _Ely._

The Strawberry grows underneath the Nettle.

_Henry V_, act i, sc. 1 (60).

(9) _Cressida._

I'll spring up in his tears, an 'twere a Nettle against May.

_Troilus and Cressida_, act i, sc. 2 (190).

(10) _Menenius._

We call a Nettle but a Nettle, and The fault of fools but folly.

_Coriolanus_, act ii, sc. 1 (207).

(11) _Laertes._

Goads, Thorns, Nettles, tails of wasps.

_Winter's Tale_, act i, sc. 2 (329).

(12) _Iago._

If we will plant Nettles or sow Lettuce.

_Othello_, act i, sc. 3 (324). (_See_ HYSSOP.)

(13) _Palamon._

Who do bear thy yoke As 'twer a wreath of roses, yet is heavier Than lead itselfe, stings more than Nettles.

_Two Noble Kinsmen_, act v, sc. 1 (101).

The Nettle needs no introduction; we are all too well acquainted with it, yet it is not altogether a weed to be despised. We have two native species (Urtica urens and U. dioica) with sufficiently strong qualities, but we have a third (U. pilulifera) very curious in its manner of bearing its female flowers in clusters of compact little balls, which is far more virulent than either of our native species, and is said by Camden to have been introduced by the Romans to chafe their bodies when frozen by the cold of Britain. The story is probably quite apocryphal, but the plant is an alien, and only grows in a few places.

Both the Latin and English names of the plant record its qualities. Urtica is from _uro_, to burn; and Nettle is (etymologically) the same word as needle, and the plant is so named, not for its stinging qualities, but because at one time the Nettle supplied the chief instrument of sewing; not the instrument which holds the thread, and to which we now confine the word needle, but the thread itself, and very good thread it made. The poet Campbell says in one of his letters--"I have slept in Nettle sheets, and dined off a Nettle table-cloth, and I have heard my mother say that she thought Nettle cloth more durable than any other linen." It has also been used for making paper, and for both these purposes, as well as for rope-making, the Rhea fibre of the Himalaya, which is simply a gigantic Nettle (_Urtica_ or _Böhmeria nivea_), is very largely cultivated. Nor is the Nettle to be despised as an article of food.[177:1] In many parts of England the young shoots are boiled and much relished. In 1596 Coghan wrote of it: "I will speak somewhat of the Nettle that Gardeners may understand what wrong they do in plucking it for the weede, seeing it is so profitable to many purposes. . . . Cunning cookes at the spring of the yeare, when Nettles first bud forth, can make good pottage with them, especially with red Nettles" ("Haven of Health," p. 86). In February, 1661, Pepys made the entry in his diary--"We did eat some Nettle porridge, which was made on purpose to-day for some of their coming, and was very good." Andrew Fairservice said of himself--"Nae doubt I should understand my trade of horticulture, seeing I was bred in the Parish of Dreepdaily, where they raise lang Kale under glass, and force the early Nettles for their spring Kale" ("Rob Roy," c. 7). Gipsies are said to cook it as an excellent vegetable, and M. Soyer tried hard, but almost in vain, to recommend it as a most dainty dish. Having so many uses, we are not surprised to find that it has at times been regularly cultivated as a garden crop, so that I have somewhere seen an account of tithe of Nettles being taken; and in the old churchwardens' account of St. Michael's, Bath, is the entry in the year 1400, "Pro Urticis venditis ad Lawrencium Bebbe, 2d."

Nettles are much used in the neighbourhood of London to pack plums and other fruit with bloom on them, so that in some market gardens they are not only not destroyed, but encouraged, and even cultivated. And this is an old practice; Lawson's advice in 1683 was--"For the gathering of all other stone-fruit, as Nectarines, Apricots, Peaches, Pear-plums, Damsons, Bullas, and such like, . . . in the bottom of your large sives where you put them, you shall lay Nettles, and likewise in the top, for that will ripen those that are most unready" ("New Orchard," p. 96).

The "Nettle of India" (No. 5) has puzzled the commentators. It is probably not the true reading; if the true reading, it may only mean a Nettle of extra-stinging quality; but it may also mean an Eastern plant that was used to produce cowage, or cow-itch. "The hairs of the pods of Mucuna pruriens, &c., constitute the substance called cow-itch, a mechanical Anthelmintic."--LINDLEY. This plant is said to have been called the Nettle of India, but I do not find it so named in Shakespeare's time.

In other points the Nettle is a most interesting plant. Microscopists find in it most beautiful objects for the microscope; entomologists value it, for it is such a favourite of butterflies and other insects, that in Britain alone upwards of thirty insects feed solely on the Nettle plant, and it is one of those curious plants which mark the progress of civilization by following man wherever he goes.[178:1]

But as a garden plant the only advice to be given is to keep it out of the garden by every means. In good cultivated ground it becomes a sad weed if once allowed a settlement. The Himalayan Böhmerias, however, are handsome, but only for their foliage; and though we cannot, perhaps, admit our roadside Dead Nettles, which however are much handsomer than many foreign flowers which we carefully tend and prize, yet the Austrian Dead Nettle (_Lamium orvala_, "Bot. Mag.," v. 172) may be well admitted as a handsome garden plant.

FOOTNOTES:

[176:1] This a modern reading; the correct reading is "metal."

[177:1]

"Si forte in medio positorum abstemius herbis Vivis et Urtica."--HORACE, _Ep._ i, 10, 8.

"Mihi festa luce coquatar Urtica."--PERSIUS vi, 68.

[178:1] "L'ortie s'établit partout dans les contrées temperées à la suite de l'homme pour disparaitre bientôt si le lieu on elle s'est ainsi implanteè cesse d'etre habité."--M. LAVAILLEE, _Sur les Arbres_, &c., 1878.

NUT, _see_ HAZEL.

NUTMEG.

(1) _Dauphin._

He's [the horse] of the colour of the Nutmeg.

_Henry V_, act iii, sc. 7 (20).

(2) _Clown._

I must have . . . Nutmegs Seven.

_Winter's Tale_, act iv, sc. 3 (50).

(3) _Armado._

The omnipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, Gave Hector a gift--

_Dumain._

A gilt Nutmeg.

_Love's Labour's Lost_, act v, sc. 2 (650).

Gerard gives a very fair description of the Nutmeg tree under the names of Nux moschata or Myristica; but it is certain that he had not any personal knowledge of the tree, which was not introduced into England or Europe for nearly 200 years after. Shakespeare could only have known the imported Nut and the Mace which covers the Nut inside the shell, and they were imported long before his time. Chaucer speaks of it as--

"Notemygge to put in ale Whether it be moist or stale, Or for to lay in cofre."--_Sir Thopas._

And in another poem we have--

"And trees ther were gret foisoun, That beren notes in her sesoun. Such as men Notemygges calle That swote of savour ben withalle."

_Romaunt of the Rose._

The Nutmeg tree (_Myrista officinalis_) "is a native of the Molucca or Spice Islands, principally confined to that group denominated the Islands of Banda, lying in lat. 4° 30´ south; and there it bears both blossom and fruit at all seasons of the year" ("Bot. Mag.," 2756, with a full history of the spice, and plates of the tree and fruit).

OAK.

(1) _Prospero._

If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an Oak, And peg thee in his knotty entrails,

_Tempest_, act i, sc. 2 (294).

(2) _Prospero._

To the dread rattling thunder Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout Oak With his own bolt.

_Ibid._, act v, sc. 1 (44).

(3) _Quince._

At the Duke's Oak we meet.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act i, sc. 2 (113).

(4) _Benedick._

An Oak with but one green leaf on it would have answered her.

_Much Ado About Nothing_, act ii, sc. 1 (247).

(5) _Isabella._

Thou split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled Oak.

_Measure for Measure_, act ii, sc. 2 (114). (_See_ MYRTLE.)

(6) _1st Lord._

He lay along Under an Oak, whose antique root peeps out Upon the brook that brawls along this wood.

_As You Like It_, act ii, sc. 1 (30).

(7) _Oliver._

Under an Oak, whose boughs were Mossed with age, And high top bald with dry antiquity.

_Ibid._, act iv, sc. 3 (156).

(8) _Paulina._

As ever Oak or stone was sound.

_Winter's Tale_, act ii, sc. 3 (89).

(9) _Messenger._

And many strokes, though with a little axe, Hew down and fell the hardest-timber'd Oak.

_3rd Henry VI_, act ii, sc. 1 (54).

(10) _Mrs. Page._

There is an old tale goes that Herne the Hunter, Sometime a keeper here in Windsor Forest, Doth all the winter time at still midnight Walk round about an Oak, with great ragg'd horns.

* * * * *

_Page._

Why yet there want not many that do fear In deep of night to walk by this Herne's Oak.

* * * * *

_Mrs. Ford._

That Falstaff at that Oak shall meet with us.

_Merry Wives of Windsor_, act iv, sc. 4 (28).

_Fenton._

To night at Herne's Oak.

_Merry Wives of Windsor_, act iv, sc. 6 (19).

_Falstaff._

Be you in the park about midnight at Herne's Oak, and you shall see wonders.

_Ibid._, act v, sc. 1 (11).

_Mrs. Page._

They are all couched in a pit hard by Herne's Oak.

* * * * *

_Mrs. Ford._

The hour draws on. To the Oak, to the Oak!

_Ibid._, act v, sc. 3 (14).

_Quickly._

Till 'tis one o'clock Our dance of custom round about the Oak Of Herne the Hunter, let us not forget.

_Ibid._, act v, sc. 5 (78).

(11) _Timon._

That numberless upon me stuck as leaves Do on the Oak, have with one winter's brush Fell from their boughs, and left me open, bare For every storm that blows.

_Timon of Athens_, act iv, sc. 3 (263).

(12) _Timon._

The Oaks bear mast, the Briers scarlet hips.

_Ibid._ (422).

(13) _Montano._

What ribs of Oak, when mountains melt on them, Can hold the mortise?

_Othello_, act ii, sc. 1 (7).

(14) _Iago._

She that so young could give out such a seeming To seel her father's eyes up close as Oak.

_Ibid._, act iii, sc. 3 (209).

(15) _Marcius._

He that depends Upon your favours swims with fins of lead And hews down Oaks with rushes.

_Coriolanus_, act i, sc. 1 (183).

(16) _Arviragus._

To thee the Reed is as the Oak.

_Cymbeline_, act iv, sc. 2 (267).

(17) _Lear._

Oak-cleaving thunderbolts.

_King Lear_, act iii, sc. 2 (5).

(18) _Nathaniel._

Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithful prove; Those thoughts to me were Oaks, to thee like Osiers bow'd.

_Love's Labour's Lost_, act iv, sc. 2 (111).

[The same lines in the "Passionate Pilgrim."]

(19) _Nestor._

When the splitting wind Makes flexible the knees of knotted Oaks.

_Troilus and Cressida_, act i, sc. 3 (49).

(20) _Volumnia._

To a cruel war I sent him, from whence he returned, his brows bound with Oak.

_Coriolanus_, act i, sc. 3 (14).

_Volumnia._

He comes the third time home with the Oaken garland.

_Ibid._, act ii, sc. 1 (137).

_Cominius._

He proved best man i' the field, and for his meed Was brow-bound with the Oak.

_Ibid._, act ii, sc. 2 (101).

_2nd Senator._

The worthy fellow is our general; he's the rock, the Oak, not to be wind-shaken.

_Ibid._, act v, sc. 2 (116).

_Volumnia._

To charge thy sulphur with a bolt That should but rive an Oak.

_Ibid._, act v, sc. 3 (152).

(21) _Casca._

I have seen tempests when the scolding winds Have rived the knotty Oaks.

_Julius Cæsar_, act i, sc. 3 (5).

(22) _Celia._

I found him under a tree like a dropped Acorn.

_Rosalind._

It may well be called Jove's tree, when it drops forth such fruit.

_As You Like It_, act iii, sc. 2 (248).

(23) _Prospero._

Thy food shall be The fresh-brook muscles, wither'd roots, and husks Wherein the Acorn cradled.

_Tempest_, act i, sc. 2 (462).

(24) _Puck._

All their elves for fear Creep into Acorn-cups, and hide them there.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act ii, sc. 1 (30).

(25) _Lysander._

Get you gone, you dwarf--you beed--you Acorn!

_Ibid._, act iii, sc. 2 (328).

(26) _Posthumus._

Like a full-Acorned boar--a German one.

_Cymbeline_, act ii, sc. 5 (16).

(27) _Messenger._

About his head he weares the winner's Oke.

_Two Noble Kinsmen_, act iv, sc. 2 (154).

(28)

Time's glory is . . . . To dry the old Oak's sap.

_Lucrece_ (950).

Here are several very pleasant pictures, and there is so much of historical and legendary lore gathered round the Oaks of England that it is very tempting to dwell upon them. There are the historical Oaks connected with the names of William Rufus, Queen Elizabeth, and Charles II.; there are the wonderful Oaks of Wistman's Wood (certainly the most weird and most curious wood in England, if not in Europe); there are the many passages in which our old English writers have loved to descant on the Oaks of England as the very emblems of unbroken strength and unflinching constancy; there is all the national interest which has linked the glories of the British navy with the steady and enduring growth of her Oaks; there is the wonderful picturesqueness of the great Oak plantations of the New Forest, the Forest of Dean, and other royal forests; and the equally, if not greater, picturesqueness of the English Oak as the chief ornament of our great English parks; there is the scientific interest which suggested the growth of the Oak for the plan of our lighthouses, and many other interesting points. It is very tempting to stop on each and all of these, but the space is too limited, and they can all be found ably treated of and at full length in any of the books that have been written on the English forest trees.

OATS.

(1) _Iris._

Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas Of Wheat, Rye, Barley, Vetches, Oats, and Pease.

_Tempest_, act iv, sc. 1 (60).

(2) _Spring Song._

When shepherds pipe on Oaten straws.

_Love's Labour's Lost_, act v, sc. 2 (913).

(3) _Bottom._

Truly a peck of provender; I could munch your good dry Oats.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act iv, sc. 1 (35).

(4) _Grumio._

Ay, sir, they be ready; the Oats have eaten the horses.

_Taming of the Shrew_, act iii, sc. 2 (207).

(5) _First Carrier._

Poor fellow, never joyed since the price of Oats rose--it was the death of him.

_1st Henry IV_, act ii, sc. 1 (13).

(6) _Captain._

I cannot draw a cart, nor eat dried Oats, If it be man's work, I'll do it.

_King Lear_, act v, sc. 3 (38).

Shakespeare's Oats need no comment, except to note that the older English name for Oats was Haver (_see_ "Promptorium Parvulorum," p. 372; and "Catholicon Anglicum," p. 178, with the notes). The word was in use in Shakespeare's time, and still survives in the northern parts of England.

OLIVE.

(1) _Clarence._

To whom the heavens in thy nativity Adjudged an Olive branch.

_3rd Henry VI_, act iv, sc. 6 (33). (_See_ LAUREL.)

(2) _Alcibiades._

Bring me into your city, And I will use the Olive with my sword.

_Timon of Athens_, act v, sc. 4 (81).

(3) _Cæsar._

Prove this a prosperous day, the three-nook'd world Shall bear the Olive freely.

_Antony and Cleopatra_, act iv, sc. 6 (5).

(4) _Rosalind._

If you will know my house 'Tis at the tuft of Olives here hard by.

_As You Like It_, act iii, sc. 5 (74).

(5) _Oliver._

Where, in the purlieus of this forest stands A sheepcote fenced about with Olive trees?

_Ibid._, act iv, sc. 3 (77).

(6) _Viola._

I bring no overture of war, no taxation of homage; I hold the Olive in my hand; my words are as full of peace as matter.

_Twelfth Night_, act i, sc. 5 (224).

(7) _Westmoreland._

There is not now a rebel's sword unsheath'd, But peace puts forth her Olive everywhere.

_2nd Henry IV_, act iv, sc. 4 (86).

(8)

And peace proclaims Olives of endless age.

_Sonnet_ cvii.

There is no certain record by which we can determine when the Olive tree was first introduced into England. Miller gives 1648 as the earliest date he could discover, at which time it was grown in the Oxford Botanic Garden. But I have no doubt it was cultivated long before that. Parkinson knew it as an English tree in 1640, for he says: "It flowereth in the beginning of summer in the warmer countries, but very late _with us_; the fruite ripeneth in autumne in Spain, &c., but seldome _with us_" ("Herball," 1640). Gerard had an Oleaster in his garden in 1596, which Mr. Jackson considers to have been the Olea Europea, and with good reason, as in his account of the Olive in the "Herbal" he gives Oleaster as one of the synonyms of Olea sylvestris, the wild Olive tree. But I think its introduction is of a still earlier date. In the Anglo-Saxon "Leech Book," of the tenth century, published under the direction of the Master of the Rolls, I find this prescription: "Pound Lovage and Elder rind and Oleaster, that is, wild Olive tree, mix them with some clear ale and give to drink" (book i. c. 37, Cockayne's translation). As I have never heard that the bark of the Olive tree was imported, it is only reasonable to suppose that the leeches of the day had access to the living tree. If this be so, the tree was probably imported by the Romans, which they are very likely to have done. But it seems very certain that it was in cultivation in England in Shakespeare's time and he may have seen it growing.

But in most of the eight passages in which he names the Olive, the reference to it is mainly as the recognized emblem of peace; and it is in that aspect, and with thoughts of its touching Biblical associations that we must always think of the Olive. It is _the_ special plant of honour in the Bible, by "whose fatness they honour God and man," linked with the rescue of the one family in the ark, and with the rescue of the whole family of man in the Mount of Olives. Every passage in which it is named in the Bible tells the uniform tale of its usefulness, and the emblematical lessons it was employed to teach; but I must not dwell on them. Nor need I say how it was equally honoured by Greeks and Romans. As a plant which produced an abundant and necessary crop of fruit with little or no labour (+phyteum' acheirôton autopoion+, Sophocles; "non ulla est oleis cultura," Virgil), it was looked upon with special pride, as one of the most blessed gifts of the gods, and under the constant protection of Minerva, to whom it was thankfully dedicated.[186:1]

We seldom see the Olive in English gardens, yet it is a good evergreen tree to cover a south wall, and having grown it for many years, I can say that there is no plant--except, perhaps, the Christ's Thorn--which gives such universal interest to all who see it. It is quite hardy, though the winter will often destroy the young shoots; but not even the winter of 1860 did any serious mischief, and fine old trees may occasionally be seen which attest its hardiness. There is one at Hanham Hall, near Bristol, which must be of great age. It is at least 30ft. high, against a south wall, and has a trunk of large girth; but I never saw it fruit or flower in England until this year (1877), when the Olive in my own garden flowered, but did not bear fruit. Miller records trees at Campden House, Kensington, which, in 1719, produced a good number of fruit large enough for pickling, and other instances have been recorded lately. Perhaps if more attention were paid to the grafting, fruit would follow. The Olive has the curious property that it seems to be a matter of indifference whether, as with other fruit, the cultivated sort is grafted on the wild one, or the wild on the cultivated one; the latter plan was certainly sometimes the custom among the Greeks and Romans, as we know from St. Paul (Romans xi. 16-25) and other writers, and it is sometimes the custom now. There are a great number of varieties of the cultivated Olive, as of other cultivated fruit.

One reason why the Olive is not more grown as a garden tree is that it is a tree very little admired by most travellers. Yet this is entirely a matter of taste, and some of the greatest authorities are loud in its praises as a picturesque tree. One short extract from Ruskin's account of the tree will suffice, though the whole description is well worth reading. "The Olive," he says, "is one of the most characteristic and beautiful features of all southern scenery. . . . What the Elm and the Oak are to England, the Olive is to Italy. . . . It had been well for painters to have felt and seen the Olive tree, to have loved it for Christ's sake; . . . to have loved it even to the hoary dimness of its delicate foliage, subdued and faint of hue, as if the ashes of the Gethsemane agony had been cast upon it for ever; and to have traced line by line the gnarled writhing of its intricate branches, and the pointed fretwork of its light and narrow leaves, inlaid on the blue field of the sky, and the small, rosy-white stars of its spring blossoming, and the heads of sable fruit scattered by autumn along its topmost boughs--the right, in Israel, of the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow--and, more than all, the softness of the mantle, silver-grey, and tender, like the down on a bird's breast, with which far away it veils the undulation of the mountains."--_Stones of Venice_, vol. iii. p. 176.

FOOTNOTES:

[186:1] _See_ Spenser's account of the first introduction of the Olive in "Muiopotmos."

ONIONS.

(1) _Bottom._

And, most dear actors, eat no Onions nor Garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act iv, sc. 2 (42).

(2) _Lafeu._

Mine eyes smell Onions, I shall weep anon: Good Tom Drum, lend me a handkercher.

_All's Well that Ends Well_, act v, sc. 3 (321).

(3) _Enobarbus._

Indeed the tears live in Onion that should water this Sorrow.

_Antony and Cleopatra_, act i, sc. 2 (176).

(4) _Enobarbus._

Look, they weep, And I, an ass, am Onion-eyed.

_Ibid._, act iv, sc. 2 (34).

(5) _Lord._

And if the boy have not a woman's gift To rain a shower of commanded tears, An Onion will do well for such a shift, Which in a napkin being close conveyed Shall in despite enforce a watery eye.

_Taming of the Shrew_, Induction, sc. 1 (124).

There is no need to say much of the Onion in addition to what I have already said on the Garlick and Leek, except to note that Onions seem always to have been considered more refined food than Leek and Garlick. Homer makes Onions an important part of the elegant little repast which Hecamede set before Nestor and Machaon--

"Before them first a table fair she spread, Well polished and with feet of solid bronze; On this a brazen canister she placed, And Onions as a relish to the wine, And pale clear honey and pure Barley meal."

_Iliad_, book xi. (Lord Derby's translation).

But in the time of Shakespeare they were not held in such esteem. Coghan, writing in 1596, says of them: "Being eaten raw, they engender all humourous and corruptible putrifactions in the stomacke, and cause fearful dreames, and if they be much used they snarre the memory and trouble the understanding" ("Haven of Health," p. 58).

The name comes directly from the French _oignon_, a bulb, being the bulb _par excellence_, the French name coming from the Latin _unio_, which was the name given to some species of Onion, probably from the bulb growing singly. It may be noted, however, that the older English name for the Onion was Ine, of which we may perhaps still have the remembrance in the common "Inions." The use of the Onion to promote artificial crying is of very old date, Columella speaking of "lacrymosa cæpe," and Pliny of "cæpis odor lacrymosus." There are frequent references to the same use in the old English writers.

The Onion has been for so many centuries in cultivation that its native home has been much disputed, but it has now "according to Dr. Regel ('Gartenflora,' 1877, p. 264) been definitely determined to be the mountains of Central Asia. It has also been found in a wild state in the Himalaya Mountains."--_Gardener's Chronicle._

ORANGE.

(1) _Beatrice._

The count is neither sad nor sick, nor merry nor well; but civil count, civil as an Orange, and something of that jealous complexion.

_Much Ado About Nothing_, act ii, sc. 1 (303).

(2) _Claudio._

Give not this rotten Orange to your friend.

_Much Ado About Nothing_, act iv, sc. 1 (33).

(3) _Bottom._

I will discharge it either in your straw-coloured beard, your Orange-tawny beard.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act i, sc. 2 (95).

(4) _Bottom._

The ousel cock so black of hue With Orange-tawny bill.

_Ibid._, act iii, sc. 1 (128).

(5) _Menenius._

You wear out a good wholesome forenoon in hearing a cause between an Orange-wife and a fosset-seller.

_Coriolanus_, act ii, sc. 1 (77).

I should think it very probable that Shakespeare may have seen both Orange and Lemon trees growing in England. The Orange is a native of the East Indies, and no certain date can be given for its introduction into Europe. Under the name of the Median Apple a tree is described first by Theophrastus, and then by Virgil and Palladius, which is supposed by some to be the Orange; but as they all describe it as unfit for food, it is with good reason supposed that the tree referred to is either the Lemon or Citron. Virgil describes it very exactly--

"Ipsa ingens arbor, faciemque simillima lauro Et si non alium late jactaret odorem Laurus erat; folia hand ullis labentia ventis Flos ad prima tenax."--_Georgic_ ii, 131.

Dr. Daubeny, who very carefully studied the plants of classical writers, decides that the fruit here named is the Lemon, and says that it "is noticed only as a foreign fruit, nor does it appear that it was cultivated at that time in Italy, for Pliny says it will only grow in Media and Assyria, though Palladius in the fourth century seems to have been familiar with it, and it was known in Greece at the time of Theophrastus." But if Oranges were grown in Italy or Greece in the time of Pliny and Palladius, they did not continue in cultivation. Europe owes the introduction or reintroduction to the Portuguese, who brought them from the East, and they were grown in Spain in the eleventh century. The first notice of them in Italy was in the year 1200, when a tree was planted by St. Dominic at Rome. The first grown in France is said to have been the old tree which lived at the Orangery at Versailles till November, 1876, and was called the Grand Bourbon. "In 1421 the Queen of Navarre gave the gardener the seed from Pampeluna; hence sprang the plant, which was subsequently transported to Chantilly. In 1532 the Orange tree was sent to Fontainebleau, whence, in 1684, Louis XIV. transferred it to Versailles, where it remained the largest, finest, and most fertile member of the Orangery, its head being 17yds. round." It is not likely that a tree of such beauty should be growing so near England without the English gardeners doing their utmost to establish it here. But the first certain record is generally said to be in 1595, when (on the authority of Bishop Gibson) Orange trees were planted at Beddington, in Surrey, the plants being raised from seeds brought into England by Sir Walter Raleigh. The date, however, may be placed earlier, for in Lyte's "Herbal" (1578) it is stated that "In this countrie the Herboristes do set and plant the Orange trees in there gardens, but they beare no fruite without they be wel kept and defended from cold, and yet for all that they beare very seldome." There are no Oranges in Gerard's catalogue of 1596, and though he describes the trees in his "Herbal," he does not say that he then grew them or had seen them growing. But by 1599 he had obtained them, for they occur in his catalogue of that date under the name of "Malus orantia, the Arange or Orange tree," so that it is certainly very probable that Shakespeare may have seen the Orange as a living tree.

As to the beauty of the Orange tree, there is but one opinion. Andrew Marvel described it as--

"The Orange bright, Like golden lamps in a green night."

_Bermudas._

George Herbert drew a lesson from its power of constant fruiting--

"Oh that I were an Orenge tree, That busie plant; Then should I ever laden be, And never want Some fruit for him that dressed me."

_Employment._

And its handsome evergreen foliage, its deliciously scented flowers, and its golden fruit--

"A fruit of pure Hesperian gold That smelled ambrosially"--

TENNYSON.

at once demand the admiration of all. It only fails in one point to make it a plant for every garden: it is not fully hardy in England. It is very surprising to read of those first trees at Beddington, that "they were planted in the open ground, under a movable covert during the winter months; that they always bore fruit in great plenty and perfection; that they grew on the south side of a wall, not nailed against it, but at full liberty to spread; that they were 14ft. high, the girth of the stem 29in., and the spreading of the branches one way 9ft., and 12ft. another; and that they so lived till they were entirely killed by the great frost in 1739-40."--MILLER.[191:1] These trees must have been of a hardy variety, for certainly Orange trees, even with such protection, do not now so grow in England, except in a few favoured places on the south coast. There is one species which is fairly hardy, the Citrus trifoliata, from Japan,[191:2] forming a pretty bush with sweet flowers, and small but useless fruit (seldom, I believe, produced out-of-doors); it is often used as a stock on which to graft the better kinds, but perhaps it might be useful for crossing, so as to give its hardiness to a variety with better flower and fruit.

Commercially the Orange holds a high place, more than 20,000 good fruit having been picked from one tree, and England alone importing about 2,000,000 bushels annually. These are almost entirely used as a dessert fruit and for marmalade, but it is curious that they do not seem to have been so used when first imported. Parkinson makes no mention of their being eaten raw, but says they "are used as sauce for many sorts of meats, in respect of the sweet sourness giving a relish and delight whereinsoever they are used;" and he mentions another curious use, no longer in fashion, I believe, but which might be worth a trial: "The seeds being cast into the grounde in the spring time will quickly grow up, and when they are a finger's length high, being pluckt up and put among Sallats, will give them a marvellous fine aromatick or spicy tast, very acceptable."[192:1]

FOOTNOTES:

[191:1] In an "Account of Gardens Round London in 1691," published in the "Archæologia," vol. xii., these Orange trees are described as if always under glass.

[191:2] "Bot. Mag.," 6513.

[192:1] For an account of the early importation of the fruit see "Promptorium Parvulorum," p. 371, note.

OSIER, _see_ WILLOW.

OXLIPS.

(1) _Perdita._

Bold Oxlips, and The Crown Imperial.

_Winter's Tale_, act iv, sc. 4 (125).

(2) _Oberon._

I know a bank where the wild Thyme blows, Where Oxlips and the nodding Violet grows.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act ii, sc. 1 (249).

(3)

Oxlips in their cradles growing.

_Two Noble Kinsmen_, Intro. song.

The true Oxlip (_Primula eliator_) is so like both the Primrose and Cowslip that it has been by many supposed to be a hybrid between the two. Sir Joseph Hooker, however, considers it a true species. It is a handsome plant, but it is probably not the "bold Oxlip" of Shakespeare, or the plant which is such a favourite in cottage gardens. The true Oxlip (P. elatior of Jacquin) is an eastern counties' plant; while the common forms of the Oxlip are hybrids between the Cowslip and Primrose. (_See_ COWSLIP and PRIMROSE.)

PALM TREE.

(1) _Rosalind._

Look here what I found on a Palm tree.

_As You Like It_, act iii, sc. 2 (185).

(2) _Hamlet._

As love between them like the Palm might flourish.

_Hamlet_, act v, sc. 2 (40).

(3) _Volumnia._

And bear the Palm for having bravely shed Thy wife and children's blood.

_Coriolanus_, act v, sc. 3 (117).

(4) _Cassius._

And bear the Palm alone.

_Julius Cæsar_, act i, sc. 2 (131).

(5) _Painter._

You shall see him a Palm in Athens again, and flourish with the highest.

_Timon of Athens_, act v, sc. 1 (12).

(6)

_The Vision._--Enter, solemnly tripping one after another, six personages, clad in white robes, wearing on their heads garlands of Bays, and golden vizards on their faces, branches of Bays or Palm in their hands.

_Henry VIII_, act iv, sc. 2.

To these passages may be added the following, in which the Palm tree is certainly alluded to though it is not mentioned by name--

_Sebastian._

That in Arabia There is one tree, the Phoenix' throne; one Phoenix At this hour reigning there.

_Tempest_, act iii, sc. 3 (22).[193:1]

And from the poem by Shakespeare, published in Chester's "Love's Martyr," 1601.

"Let the bird of loudest lay On the sole Arabian tree Herald sad and Trumpet be, To whose sound chaste wings obey."

Two very distinct trees are named in these passages. In the last five the reference is to the true Palm of Biblical and classical fame, as the emblem of victory, and the typical representation of life and beauty in the midst of barren waste and deserts. And we are not surprised at the veneration in which the tree was held, when we consider either the wonderful grace of the tree, or its many uses in its native countries, so many, that Pliny says that the Orientals reckoned 360 uses to which the Palm tree could be applied. Turner, in 1548, said: "I never saw any perfit Date tree yet, but onely a little one that never came to perfection;"[194:1] and whether Shakespeare ever saw a living Palm tree is doubtful, but he may have done so. (_See_ DATE.) Now there are a great number grown in the large houses of botanic and other gardens, the Palm-house at Kew showing more and better specimens than can be seen in any other collection in Europe: even the open garden can now boast of a few species that will endure our winters without protection. Chamærops humilis and Fortunei seem to be perfectly hardy, and good specimens may be seen in several gardens; Corypha australis is also said to be quite hardy, and there is little doubt but that the Date Palm (_Phoenix dactylifera_), which has long been naturalized in the South of Europe, would live in Devonshire and Cornwall, and that of the thousand species of Palms growing in so many different parts of the world, some will yet be found that may grow well in the open air in England.

But the Palm tree in No. 1 is a totally different tree, and much as Shakespeare has been laughed at for placing a Palm tree in the Forest of Arden, the laugh is easily turned against those who raise such an objection. The Palm tree of the Forest of Arden is the

"Satin-shining Palm On Sallows in the windy gleams of March"--

_Idylls of the King_--Vivien.

that is, the Early Willow (_Salix caprea_) and I believe it is so called all over England, as it is in Northern Germany, and probably in other northern countries. There is little doubt that the name arose from the custom of using the Willow branches with the pretty golden catkins on Palm Sunday as a substitute for Palm branches.

"In Rome upon Palm Sunday they bear true Palms, The Cardinals bow reverently and sing old Psalms; Elsewhere those Psalms are sung 'mid Olive branches, The Holly branch supplies the place among the avalanches; More northern climes must be content with the sad Willow."

GOETHE (quoted by Seeman).

But besides Willow branches, Yew branches are sometimes used for the same purpose, and so we find Yews called Palms. Evelyn says they were so called in Kent; they are still so called in Ireland, and in the churchwarden's accounts of Woodbury, Devonshire, is the following entry: "Memorandum, 1775. That a Yew or Palm tree was planted in the churchyard, ye south side of the church, in the same place where one was blown down by the wind a few days ago, this 25th of November."[195:1]

How Willow or Yew branches could ever have been substituted for such a very different branch as a Palm it is hard to say, but in lack of a better explanation, I think it not unlikely that it might have arisen from the direction for the Feast of Tabernacles in Leviticus xxiii. 40: "Ye shall take you on the first day the boughs of goodly trees, the branches of Palm trees, and the boughs of thick trees, and Willows of the brook." But from whatever cause the name and the custom was derived, the Willow was so named in very early times, and in Shakespeare's time the name was very common. Here is one instance among many--

"Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day, The Palms and May make country houses gay, And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay-- Cuckoo, jug-jug, pee-we, to-witta-woo."

T. NASH. 1567-1601.

FOOTNOTES:

[193:1] I do not include among "Palms" the passage in _Hamlet_, act i, sc. 1: "In the most high and palmy state of Rome," because I bow to Archdeacon Nares' judgment that "palmy" here means "grown to full height, in allusion to the palms of the stag's horns, when they have attained to their utmost growth." He does not, however, decide this with certainty, and the question may be still an open one.

[194:1] "Names of Herbes," s.v. Palma.

[195:1] In connection with this, Turner's account of the Palm in 1538 is worth quoting: "Palm[=a] arborem in anglia nunq' me vidisse memini. Indie tamen ramis palmar[=u] (ut illi loq[=u]ntur) soepius sacerdot[=e] dicent[=e] andivi. Bendic eti[=a] et hos palmar[=u] ramos, qu[=u] proeter salignas frondes nihil omnino vider[=e] ego, quid alii viderint nescio. Si nobis palmarum frondes non suppeterent; proestaret me judice mutare lectionem et dicere. Benedic hos salic[=u] ramos q' falso et mendaciter salicum frondes palmarum frondes vocare."--LIBELLUS, _De re Herbaria_, s.v. Palma.

PANSIES.

(1) _Ophelia._

And there is Pansies--that's for thoughts.

_Hamlet_, act iv, sc. 5 (176).

(2) _Lucentio._

But see, while idly I stood looking on, I found the effect of Love-in-idleness.

_Taming of the Shrew_, act i, sc. 1 (155).

(3) _Oberon._

Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower, Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, And maidens call it Love-in-idleness. Fetch me that flower; the herb I show'd thee once; The juice of it on sleeping eye-lids laid Will make or man or woman madly dote Upon the next live creature that it sees.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act ii, sc. 1 (165).

(4) _Oberon._

Dian's Bud o'er Cupid's flower Hath such free and blessed power.

_Ibid._, act iv, sc. 1 (78).

The Pansy is one of the oldest favourites in English gardens, and the affection for it is shown in the many names that were given to it. The Anglo-Saxon name was Banwort or Bonewort, though why such a name was given to it we cannot now say. Nor can we satisfactorily explain its common names of Pansy or Pawnce (from the French, _pensées_--"that is, for thoughts," says Ophelia), or Heart's-ease,[196:1] which name was originally given to the Wallflower. The name Cupid's flower seems to be peculiar to Shakespeare, but the other name, Love-in-idle, or idleness, is said to be still in use in Warwickshire, and signifies love in vain, or to no purpose, as in Chaucer: "The prophet David saith; If God ne kepe not the citee, in ydel waketh he that keptit it."[196:2] And in Tyndale's translation of the New Testament, "I have prechid to you, if ye holden, if ye hav not bileved ideli" (1 Cor. xv. 2). "Beynge plenteuous in werk of the Lord evermore, witynge that youre traveil is not idel in the Lord" (1 Cor. xv. 58).

But beside these more common names, Dr. Prior mentions the following: "Herb Trinity, Three faces under a hood, Fancy, Flamy,[197:1] Kiss me, Cull me or Cuddle me to you, Tickle my fancy, Kiss me ere I rise, Jump up and kiss me, Kiss me at the garden gate, Pink of my John, and several more of the same amatory character."

Spenser gives the flower a place in his "Royal aray" for Elisa--

"Strowe me the grounde with Daffadowndillies, And Cowslips, and Kingcups, and loved Lillies, The pretie Pawnce, And the Chevisaunce Shall match with the fayre Flower Delice."

And in another place he speaks of the "Paunces trim"--_F. Q._, iii. 1. Milton places it in Eve's couch--

"Flowers were the couch, Pansies, and Violets, and Asphodel, And Hyacinth, earth's freshest, softest lap."

He names it also as part of the wreath of Sabrina--

"Pansies, Pinks, and gaudy Daffadils;"

and as one of the flowers to strew the hearse of Lycidas--

"The White Pink and the Pansie streaked with jet, The glowing Violet."

FOOTNOTES:

[196:1] "The Pansie Heart's ease Maiden's call."--DRAYTON _Ed._, ix.

[196:2] And again--

"The other heste of hym is this, Take not in ydel my name or amys."

_Pardeners Tale._

"Eterne God, that through thy purveance Ledest this world by certein governance, In idel, as men sein, ye nothinge make."

_The Frankelynes Tale._

[197:1] "Flamy, because its colours are seen in the flame of wood."--_Flora Domestica_, 166.

PARSLEY.

_Biondello._

I knew a wench married in an afternoon as she went to the garden for Parsley to stuff a rabbit.

_Taming of the Shrew_, act iv, sc 4 (99).

Parsley is the abbreviated form of Apium petroselinum, and is a common name to many umbelliferous plants, but the garden Parsley is the one meant here. This well-known little plant has the curious botanic history that no one can tell what is its native country. In 1548 Turner said, "Perseley groweth nowhere that I knowe, but only in gardens."[198:1] It is found in many countries, but is always considered an escape from cultivation. Probably the plant has been so altered by cultivation as to have lost all likeness to its original self.

Our forefathers seem to have eaten the parsley _root_ as well as the leaves--

"Quinces and Peris ciryppe with Parcely rotes Right so bygyn your mele."

RUSSELL'S _Boke of Nurture_, 826.

"Peres and Quynces in syrupe with Percely rotes."

WYNKYN DE WORDE'S _Boke of Kervynge_.

FOOTNOTES:

[198:1] "Names of Herbes," s.v. Apium.

PEACH

(1) _Prince Henry._

To take note how many pair of silk stockings thou hast, viz., these, and those that were thy Peach-coloured ones!

_2nd Henry IV_, act ii, sc. 2 (17).

(2) _Pompey._

Then there is here one Master Caper, at the suit of Master Threepile the mercer, for some four suits of Peach-coloured satin, which now peaches him a beggar.

_Measure for Measure_, act iv, sc. 3 (10).

The references here are only to the colour of the Peach blossom, yet the Peach tree was a well-known tree in Shakespeare's time, and the fruit was esteemed a great delicacy, and many different varieties were cultivated. Botanically the Peach is closely allied to the Almond, and still more closely to the Apricot and Nectarine; indeed, many writers consider both the Apricot and Nectarine to be only varieties of the Peach.

The native country of the Peach is now ascertained to be China, and not Persia, as the name would imply. It probably came to the Romans through Persia, and was by them introduced into England. It occurs in Archbishop's Ælfric's "Vocabulary" in the tenth century, "Persicarius, Perseoctreow;" and John de Garlande grew it in the thirteenth century, "In virgulto Magistri Johannis, pessicus fert pessica." It is named in the "Promptorium Parvulorum" as "Peche, or Peske, frute--Pesca Pomum Persicum;" and in a note the Editor says: "In a role of purchases for the Palace of Westminster preserved amongst the miscellaneous record of the Queen's remembrance, a payment occurs, Will le Gardener, pro iij koygnere, ij pichere iij_s._--pro groseillere iij_d_, pro j peschere vj_d._" A.D. 1275, 4 Edw: 1--

We all know and appreciate the fruit of the Peach, but few seem to know how ornamental a tree is the Peach, quite independent of the fruit. In those parts where the soil and climate are suitable, the Peach may be grown as an ornamental spring flowering bush. When so grown preference is generally given to the double varieties, of which there are several, and which are not by any means the new plants that they are generally supposed to be, as they were cultivated both by Gerard and Parkinson.

PEAR.

(1) _Falstaff._

I warrant they would whip me with their fine wits till I were as crest-fallen as a dried Pear.

_Merry Wives of Windsor_, act iv, sc. 5 (101).

(2) _Parolles._

Your virginity, your old virginity, is like one of our French withered Pears, it looks ill, it eats drily; marry, 'tis a withered Pear; it was formerly better; marry, yet 'tis a withered Pear.

_All's Well that Ends Well_, act i, sc. 1 (174).

(3) _Clown._

I must have Saffron to colour the Warden pies.

_Winter's Tale_, act iv, sc. 3 (48).

(4) _Mercutio._

O, Romeo . . . thou a Poperin Pear.

_Romeo and Juliet_, act ii, sc. 1 (37).

If we may judge by these few notices, Shakespeare does not seem to have had much respect for the Pear, all the references to the fruit being more or less absurd or unpleasant. Yet there were good Pears in his day, and so many different kinds that Gerard declined to tell them at length, for "the stocke or kindred of Pears are not to be numbered; every country hath his peculiar fruit, so that to describe them apart were to send an owle to Athens, or to number those things that are without number."

Of these many sorts Shakespeare mentions by name but two, the Warden and the Poperin, and it is not possible to identify these with modern varieties with any certainty. The Warden was probably a general name for large keeping and stewing Pears, and the name was said to come from the Anglo-Saxon _wearden_, to keep or preserve, in allusion to its lasting qualities. But this is certainly a mistake. In an interesting paper by Mr. Hudson Turner, "On the State of Horticulture in England in early times, chiefly previous to the fifteenth century," printed in the "Archæological Journal," vol. v. p. 301, it is stated that "the Warden Pear had its origin and its name from the horticultural skill of the Cistercian Monks of Wardon Abbey in Bedfordshire, founded in the twelfth century. Three Warden Pears appeared in the armorial bearings of the Abbey."

It was certainly an early name. In the "Catholicon Anglicum" we find: "A Parmayn, volemum, Anglice, a Warden;" and in Parkinson's time the name was still in use, and he mentions two varieties, "The Warden or Lukewards Pear are of two sorts, both white and red, both great and small." (The name of Lukewards seems to point to St. Luke's Day, October 18, as perhaps the time either for picking the fruit or for its ripening.) "The Spanish Warden is greater than either of both the former, and better also." And he further says: "The Red Warden and the Spanish Warden are reckoned amongst the most excellent of Pears, either to bake or to roast, for the sick or for the sound--and indeed the Quince and the Warden are the only two fruits that are permitted to the sick to eat at any time." The Warden pies of Shakespeare's day, coloured with Saffron, have in our day been replaced by stewed Pears coloured with Cochineal.[200:1]

I can find no guide to the identification of the Poperin Pear, beyond Parkinson's description: "The summer Popperin and the winter Popperin, both of them very good, firm, dry Pears, somewhat spotted and brownish on the outside. The green Popperin is a winter fruit of equal goodnesse with the former." It was probably a Flemish Pear, and may have been introduced by the antiquary Leland, who was made Rector of Popering by Henry VIII. The place is further known to us as mentioned by Chaucer--

"A knyght was fair and gent In batail and in tornament, His name was Sir Thopas. Alone he was in fer contre, In Flaundres, all beyonde the se, At Popering in the place."

As a garden tree the Pear is not only to be grown for its fruit, but as a most ornamental tree. Though the individual flowers are not, perhaps, so handsome as the Apple blossoms, yet the growth of the tree is far more elegant; and an old Pear tree, with its curiously roughened bark, its upright, tall, pyramidal shape, and its sheet of snow-white blossoms, is a lovely ornament in the old gardens and lawns of many of our country houses. It is by some considered a British tree, but it is probably only a naturalized foreigner, originally introduced by the Romans.

FOOTNOTES:

[200:1] The Warden was sometimes spoken of as different from Pears. Sir Hugh Platt speaks of "Wardens _or_ Pears."

PEAS.

(1) _Iris._

Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas Of Wheat, Rye, Barley, Vetches, Oats, and Pease.

_Tempest_, act iv, sc. 1 (60).

(2) _Carrier._

Peas and Beans are as dank here as a dog.

_1st Henry IV_, act ii, sc. 1 (9). (_See_ BEANS.)

(3) _Biron._

This fellow picks up wit, as pigeons Pease.

_Love's Labour's Lost_, act v, sc. 2 (315).

(4) _Bottom._

I had rather have a handful or two of dried Peas.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act iv, sc. 1 (41).

(5) _Fool._

That a shealed Peascod?

_King Lear_, act i, sc. 4 (219).

(6) _Touchstone._

I remember the wooing of a Peascod instead of her.

_As You Like It_, act ii, sc. 4 (51).

(7) _Malvolio._

Not yet old enough to be a man, nor young enough for a boy; as a Squash is before 'tis a Peascod, or a Codling when 'tis almost an Apple.

_Twelfth Night_, act i, sc. 5 (165).

(8) _Hostess._

Well, fare thee well! I have known thee these twenty-nine years come Peascod time.

_2nd Henry IV_, act ii, sc. 4 (412).

(9) _Leontes._

How like, methought, I then was to this kernel, This Squash, this gentleman.

_Winter's Tale_, act i, sc. 2 (159).

(10)

_Peascod, Pease-Blossom, and Squash_--Dramatis personæ in _Midsummer Night's Dream_.

There is no need to say much of Peas, but it may be worth a note in passing that in old English we seldom meet with the word Pea. Peas or Pease (the Anglicised form of Pisum) is the singular, of which the plural is Peason. "Pisum is called in Englishe a Pease;" says Turner--

"Alle that for me thei doo pray, Helpeth me not to the uttermost day The value of a Pese."

_The Child of Bristowe_, p. 570.

And the word was so used in and after Shakespeare's time, as by Ben Jonson--

"A pill as small as a pease."--_Magnetic Lady._

The Squash is the young Pea, before the Peas are formed in it, and the Peascod is the ripe shell of the Pea before it is shelled.[202:1] The garden Pea (_Pisum sativum_) is the cultivated form of a plant found in the South of Europe, but very much altered by cultivation. It was probably not introduced into England as a garden vegetable long before Shakespeare's time. It is not mentioned in the old lists of plants before the sixteenth century, and Fuller tells us that in Queen Elizabeth's time they were brought from Holland, and were "fit dainties for ladies, they came so far and cost so dear."

The beautiful ornamental Peas (Sweet Peas, Everlasting Peas, &c.) are of different family (Lathyrus, not Pisum), but very closely allied. There is a curious amount of folklore connected with Peas, and in every case the Peas and Peascods are connected with wooing the lasses. This explains Touchstone's speech (No. 6). Brand gives several instances of this, from which one stanza from Browne's "Pastorals" may be quoted--

"The Peascod greene, oft with no little toyle, He'd seek for in the fattest, fertil'st soile, And rend it from the stalke to bring it to her, And in her bosom for acceptance wooe her."