Chapter XIII

OCCUPATIONS OUT OF DOORS.--THE PLEASURE-GARDEN.--THE LOVE OF
FLOWERS, AND THE FASHION OF MAKING GARLANDS.--FORMALITIES OF THE
PROMENADE.--GARDENING IN THE MIDDLE AGES.

Humboldt, in his “Cosmos,” has dwelt on the taste for the beauties of nature which has prevailed among various peoples, and at different periods of the world’s history, but he appears to me to have by no means appreciated or done justice to the force of this sentiment among our forefathers in the middle ages, and, perhaps I may say, especially in England. In our ancient popular poetry, the mention of the season of the year at which an event happens generally draws from the poet some allusion to the charms of nature peculiar to it, to the sweetness of the flowers, the richness of the fruit, or the harmony of the song of birds. In some of the early romances, each new division of the poem is introduced by an allusion of this kind. Thus, at the opening of what the editor calls the first chapter of the second part of the romance of “Richard Cœur de Lion,” the poet tells us how it--

_Merye is in the tyme of May,_
_Whenne foulis synge in her lay;_
_Floures on appyl-trees and perye_ (pear-tree);
_Smale foules synge merye._
_Ladyes strowe here boures_ (chambers)
_With rede roses and lylye flowres;_
_Gret joye is in frith_ (grove) _and lake_.
--Weber, ii. 149.

Such interruptions of the narrative are frequent in the long romance of “Alexander” (Alexander the Great), and are always expressive. Thus, on one occasion the poet tells us, abruptly enough, how--

_Whan corn ripeth in every steode_ (place),
_Mury_ (pleasant) _it is in feld and hyde_ (meadow).
--Ibid., i. 24.

And again, introduced equally abruptly, we are informed--

_In tyme of hervest mery it is ynough;_
_Peres and apples hongeth on bough._
_The hayward bloweth mery his horne;_
_In everyche_ (every) _felde ripe is corne;_
_The grapes hongen on the vyne;_
_Swete is trewe love and fyne_.
--Weber, p. 238.

When, indeed, we consider the confined and dark character of most of the apartments of the feudal dwelling, we cannot be surprised if our mediæval forefathers loved the recreations which brought them into the open air. Castles and country mansions had always their gardens and pleasure-grounds, which were much frequented by all the different branches of the household. The readers of Chaucer will remember the description of the “noble” knight January--

_Amonges other of his honest thinges,_
_He had a gardyn walled al with stoon,_
_So fair a gardyn wot I no wher noon._

It is implied, at least, that this garden was extensive, and--

_This noble knight, this January the olde,_
_Such deynté hath in it to walk and playe,_
_That he wold no wight suffre bere the keye,_
_Save he himself._
--CHAUCER, The Marchaundes Tale.

So, in the curious popular collection of mediæval stories, entitled the “Seven Sages,” we are told of a rich burgess who

_Hadde, bihinden his paleys,_
_A fair gardin of nobleys,_
_Ful of appel-tres, and als_ (also) _of pirie_ (pear-trees);
_Foules songe therinne murie._
_Amideward that gardyn fre,_
_So wax_ (grew) _a pinnote-tre,_
_That hadde fair bowes and frut;_
_Ther under was al his dedut_ (pleasure).
_He made ther-under a grene bench,_
_And drank ther under many a sschench_ (cupful).
--Weber, iii. 23.

And again, in the same collection of stories, a prudent mother, counselling her daughter, tells her--

_Daughter, thi loverd_ (lord) _hath a gardin,_
_A wel fair ympe_ (young tree) _is tharin;
A fair harbeth_ (arbour) _hit overspredeth,_
_Alle his solas therinne he ledeth_.
--Weber, iii. 69.

In Chaucer’s “Frankeleynes Tale,” when the lady Dorigen was in want of amusement to make her forget the absence of her husband, her friends, finding that the sea-shore was not sufficiently gay,--

_Schope hem for to pleien somwhere elles,_
_They leden hire by rivers and by welles,_
_And eke in other places delitables;_
_They dauncen, and they pley at ches and tables._
_So on a day, right in the morwe tide,_
_Unto a gardeyn that was ther beside,_
_In which that they had made her ordinance_
_Of vitaile, and of other purveance,_
_They gon and plaie hem al the longe day:_
_And this was on the sixte morwe of May,_
_Which May had painted with his softe schoures_
_This gardeyn ful of leves and of floures:_
_And craft of mannes hond so curiously_
_Arrayed had this gardeyn of suche pris_
_As if it were the verray paradis._
* * * * *
_And after dinner gan thay to daunce
_And singe also; sauf Dorigen alone._

An important incident in the story here occurs, after which--

_Tho_ (then) _come hir other frendes many on,_
_And in the alleyes romed up and down,_
_And nothing wist of this conclusioun,_
_But sodeynly began to revel newe,_
_Til that the brighte sonne had lost his hewe_.

It would be easy to multiply such descriptions as the foregoing, but we will only refer to the well-known one at the commencement of the “Romance of the Rose,” where the carolling is described with more minuteness than usual. There were employed minstrels, and “jogelours,” and apparently even tumblers, which are thus described in Chaucer’s English version:--

_Tho_ (then) _myghtist thou karoles sene,_
_And folk daunce and mery bene,_
_And made many a faire tournyng_
_Upon the grene gras springyng_.
There myghtist thou se these flowtours,
_Mynstrales and eke jogelours,_
_That wel to synge dide her peyne,_
_Somme songe songes of Loreyne;_
_For in Loreyn her notes bee_
_Fulle swetter than in this contré._
_There was many a tymbester,_
_And saillouris_ (jumpers, _or_ tumblers), _that I dar wel swere_
_Couthe_ (knew) _her craft ful parfitly,_
_The tymbris up ful sotilly_
_They caste and hente fulle ofte_
_Upon a fynger faire and softe,_
_That they ne failide never mo._
_Ful fetys damyseles two,_
_Ryght yonge, and fulle of semelyhede,_
_In kirtles and noon other wede,_
_And faire tressed every tresse,_
_Hadde Myrthe doon for his noblesse_
_Amydde the karole for to daunce._
_But herof lieth no remembraunce_
_How that they daunced queyntly,_
_That oon wolde come alle pryvyly_
_Agayn that other, and whan they were_
_Togidre almost, they threwe yfere_ (in company)
_Her mouthis so, that thorough her play_
_It semed as they kiste alway._
_To dauncen welle koude they the gise,_
_What shulde I more to you devyse?_

These lines show us that our forefathers in the middle ages had their dancing girls, just as they had and still have them in the East; it was one trait of the mixture of Oriental manners with those of Europe which had taken place since the crusades.

In these extracts, indeed, we have allusions to the practices of dancing and singing, of playing at chess and tables, of drinking, and even of dining, in the gardens. Our engraving No. 194, taken from the romance of “Alexander,” in the Bodleian Library, represents a garden scene, in which two royal personages are playing at chess. Dancing in the open air was a very common recreation, and is not unfrequently alluded to. In the Roman de Geste, known by the title of “La Mort de Garin,” a large dinner party is given in a garden--

_Les napes metent pardeanz un jardin._
--Mort de Garin, p. 28.

And, in the “Roman de Berte” (p. 4), Charles Martel is represented as dining similarly in the garden, at the midsummer season, when the rose was in blossom--

_Entour le saint Jehan, que la rose est fleurie._

There is an early Latin story of a man who had a cross-grained wife. One day he invited some friends to dinner, and set out his table in his garden, by the side of a river (_fecit poni mensam in hortu suo prope aquam_). The lady seated herself by the water-side, at a little distance from the table, and cast a very forbidding look upon her husband’s guests; upon which he said to her, “Show a pleasant countenance to our guests, and come nearer the table;” but she only moved further off, and nearer the brink of the river, with her back turned to the water. He repeated his invitation in a more angry tone, in reply to which, to show her ill-humour, she drew further back, with a quick movement of ill-temper, through which, forgetting the nearness of the river, she fell into it, and was drowned. The husband, pretending great grief, sent for a boat, and proceeded up the stream in search of her body. This excited some surprise among his neighbours, who suggested to him that he should go down the stream, and not up. “Ah!” said he, “you did not know my wife--she did everything in contradiction, and I firmly believe that her body has floated against the current, and not with it.”

Even among the aristocratic class the garden was often the place for giving audience and receiving friends. In the romance of “Garin le Loherain,” a messenger sent to the count Fromont, one of the great barons, finds him sitting in a garden surrounded by his friends--

_Trouva Fromont seant en un jardin;_
_Environ lui avoit de ses amins._
--Roman de Garin, i. 282.

A favourite occupation of the ladies in the middle ages was making garlands and chaplets of flowers. In the “Lai d’Aristote” (Barbazan, iii. 105, 107), king Alexander’s beautiful mistress is described as descending early in the morning, walking in the garden alone, and making herself a chaplet of flowers. In another fabliau, published in Germany by Adelbert Keller, a Saracenic maiden descends from her chamber into the garden, performs her toilette at the fountain there, and then makes herself a chaplet of flowers and leaves, which she puts on her head. So Emelie, in Chaucer’s “Knights Tale,”--

_Iclothed was sche fressh for to devyse._
_Hire yolwe_ (yellow) _heer was browdid in a tresse_
_Byhynde hire bak, a yerde long, I gesse._
_And in the gardyn at the sonne uprise_ (sun-rise)
_Sche walketh up and doun wheer as hire liste;_
_Sche gadereth floures, partye whyte and reede,_
_To make a certeyn gerland for hire heede,_
_And as an aungel hevenly sche song_.

A little further on, Arcyte goes at daybreak into the fields to make him a chaplet, of the leaves of woodbine or hawthorn, for it must be remembered that this takes place in the month of May, which was especially the season for wearing garlands. In “Blonde of Oxford,” Jean of Dammartin, seeking his mistress, finds her in a meadow making herself a chaplet of flowers--

_A dont de la chambre s’avance,_
_De là le vit en i. prael_
_U ele faisoit un capiel._
--Blonde of Oxford, p. 30.

Our cut No. 195, taken from a well-known manuscript in the British Museum, of the beginning of the fourteenth century (MS. Reg. 2 B. vii.), represents a party of ladies in the garden, gathering flowers, and making garlands. The love of flowers, as I have stated in a former chapter, seems to have prevailed generally among our Anglo-Saxon forefathers, and affectionate allusions to them occur, not unfrequently, in the literary remains of that early period. Many of our old favourite garden-flowers are, I believe, derived from the Anglo-Saxon gardens. Proofs of a similar attachment to flowers might be quoted in abundance from the writings of the periods subsequent to the entrance of the Normans. The wearing of garlands or chaplets of flowers was a common practice with both sexes. In the romantic history of the Fitz-Warines, written in the thirteenth century, the hero, in travelling, meets a young knight who, in token of his joyous humour, carries a chaplet of flowers on his head. In the later English romance of the “Squyer of Lowe Degree,” when the “squyer” was preparing to do his office of carver in the hall--

_There he araied him in scarlet red,_
_And set a chaplet upon his hed;_
_A belte about his sydes two,_
_White brod barres to and fro._

Walter de Biblesworth talks of ladies dancing the carole, their heads crowned with garlands of the blue-bottle flower--

_Mener karole_
_Desouz chapeau de blaverole._--Vocabularies, p. 161.

Garlands of flowers were also the common rewards for success in the popular games.

All these enjoyments naturally rendered the garden a favourite and important part of every man’s domestic establishment; during the warmer months of the year it was a chosen place of resort, especially after dinner. In the romance of “Garin le Loherain,” Begues is represented as descending from his palace, after dinner, to walk with his fair wife Beatrice in his garden--

_En son palais fu Begues de Belin;_
_Après mangier entra en un jardin,_
_Aveuc lui fu la belle Biatris._
--Roman de Garin, vol. ii. p. 97.

In another part of the same romance, Begues de Belin and his barons, on rising from the table, went to seek recreation in the fields--

_Quant mangié ont et beu à loisir,_
_Les napes ostent, et en prés sunt sailli._
--Ibid., vol. i. p. 203.

The manuscript in the British Museum, from which we took our last illustration, furnishes the accompanying representation of a group of ladies walking in the garden, and gathering flowers (No. 196).

In the “Ménagier de Paris,” compiled about the year 1393, its author, addressing his young wife, treats briefly of the behaviour of a woman when she is walking out, and especially when passing along the streets of a town, or going to church. “As you go,” he says, “look straight before you, with your eye-lids low and fixed, looking forward to the ground, at five toises (thirty feet) before you, and not looking at, or turning your eyes, to man or woman who may be to your right or left, nor looking upwards, nor changing your look from one place to another, nor laughing, nor stopping to speak to anybody in the street” (vol. i. p. 15). It must be confessed that this is, in some points, rather hard counsel for a lady to follow; but it is consistent with the general system of formalities of behaviour in the middle ages, upon which the ladies gladly took their revenge when removed from constraint. When two or more persons walked together, it was the custom to hold each other by the hands, not to walk arm-in-arm, which appears to be a very modern practice. In the romance of “Ogier le Danois,” the emperor and Ogier, when reconciled, are thus represented, walking in a friendly manner hand in hand. The ladies in our last engraving are walking in this manner; and in our next (No. 197),--taken from a copy, given in M. du Sommerard’s “Album,” from a manuscript in the library of the arsenal at Paris, written and illuminated for a prince of the house of Burgundy, in the fifteenth century,--the lords and ladies of a noble or princely household are represented as walking out in the same manner. It is well known that the court of Burgundy, in the fifteenth century, offered the model of strict etiquette. This illustration gives us also a very good picture of a street scene of the period to which it belongs. The height of gentility, however, at least, in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, seems to have been to hold the lady by the finger only. It is in this manner that, in the romance of “Ogier le Danois,” the hero holds the princess Gloriande--

_Donques enmainne le bon Danois Ogier,_
_E Gloriande_, qui par le doit le tient._
--Roman d’Ogier, p. 110.

So, in the romance of “La Violette,” at the festivities given by the king, the guests “distributed themselves in couples in the hall (_i. e._ a gentleman with a lady), _one taking the other by the finger_, and so they arranged themselves two and two”--

_Quant il orent assés deduit,_
_Par la sale s’acoinsent tuit;_
_Li uns prent l’autre par le doi,_
_Si s’arangierent doi et doi._
--Roman de la Violette, p. 10.

In the curious poem entitled “La Court de Paradis,” the sainted ladies in heaven are represented as thus walking and holding each other by the finger,--

_L’une tint l’autre par les dois._
--Barbazan, iii. 139.

As a mark of great familiarity, two princes, Pepin’s son, Charles, and the duke Namles, are represented in the romance of “Ogier” as one, Charles, holding his hand on the duke’s shoulder, while the duke held him by his mantle, as they walked along; they were going to church together:--

_Kalles sa main li tint desus l’espaule;_
_Namles tint lui par le mantel de paile._
--Roman d’Ogier, p. 143.

It may be remarked that sitting was equally a matter of etiquette with walking, though we sometimes meet with ladies and gentlemen seated in a manner which is anything but ceremonious. In the annexed cut (No. 198), taken from a manuscript of the fourteenth century, the reference to which I have unfortunately lost, a number of ladies, seated on the ground, and apparently in the open air, are listening to the admonitions of an episcopal preacher.

As I have introduced the subject of the love of our forefathers for trees and flowers, some account of gardening in the middle ages will not be out of place, especially as what has hitherto been written on the history of gardening in England during this early period, has been very imperfect and incorrect. We have no direct information relating to the gardens of our Anglo-Saxon forefathers--in fact, our knowledge is limited to a few words gathered from the old vocabularies. The ordinary names for a garden, _wyrt-tun_ and _wyrt-geard_, a plant-inclosure and a plant-yard, are entirely indefinite, for the word _wyrt_ was applied to all plants whatever, and perhaps they indicate what we should call the kitchen-garden. The latter word, which was sometimes spelt _ort-geard_, _orc-geard_, and _orcyrd_, was the origin of our modern _orchard_, which is now limited to an inclosure of fruit-trees. Flowers were probably cultivated in the inclosed space round the houses. It would appear that the Saxons, before they became acquainted with the Romans, cultivated very few plants, if we may judge from the circumstance that throughout the Anglo-Saxon period the names by which these were known were nearly all derived from the Latin. The leek appears to have been the principal table vegetable among the Anglo-Saxons, as it was among the Welsh its name, _leac_, or _leah_, is pure Anglo-Saxon, and its importance was considered so much above that of any other vegetable, that _leac-tun_, the leek-garden, became the common name for the kitchen-garden, and _leac-weard_, a leek-keeper, was used to designate the gardener. The other alliaceous plants were considered as so many varieties of the leek, and were known by such names as _enne-leac_, or _ynne-leac_, supposed to be the onion, and _gar-leac_, or garlic. _Bean_ is also an Anglo-Saxon word; but, singularly enough, the Anglo-Saxons seem not to have been originally acquainted with peas, for the only name they had for them was the Latin _pisa_, and _pyse_. Even for the cabbage tribe, the only Anglo-Saxon name we know is simply the Latin _brassica_; and the colewort, which was named _cawl_, and _cawl-wyrt_, was derived from the Latin _caulis_. So the turnip was called _næpe_, from the Latin _napus_; and _rædic_, or radish, is perhaps from _raphanus_.[29] Garden cresses, parsley, mint, sage, rue, and other herbs,[30] were in use, but mostly, except the cresses, with Latin names.

We have long lists of flowering plants in the Anglo-Saxon vocabularies, but as they are often difficult to identify, and, being chiefly enumerated for their medicinal qualities, are mostly wild plants, they throw little light on the character of the flower-garden. For the garden rose and the lily they used the Roman names _rose_ and _lilie_; the latter appears to have been an especially favourite flower among the Anglo-Saxons. Among other plants, evidently belonging to the garden, are suthernwood, _sutherne-wude_, the turnsole or sunflower, called _sigel-hwerfe_ (the gem-turned) or _solsæce_ (which is merely the Latin _solsequium_), the violet (_clæfre_), the marigold, called _read-clæfre_, the gilliflower, _hwit-clæfre_, the periwinkle, _pervincæ_, the honeysuckle, _hunig-sucle_, the piony, for which the Anglo-Saxons had only the Latin word _pionia_, the daisy, _dæges-eage_, and the _laur-beam_, which was perhaps the bay-tree rather than the laurel.

The chief fruit of the Anglo-Saxons was undoubtedly the apple, the name of which, _æppel_, belongs to their language. The tree was called an _apulder_, and the only varieties mentioned are the _surmelst apulder_, or souring apple-tree, and the _swite apulder_, or sweeting apple-tree. The Anglo-Saxons had orchards containing only apple-trees, to which they gave the name of an _apulder-tun_, or apple-tree garden; of the fruit of which they made what they called, and we still call, cider, and which they also called _æppel-win_, or apple-wine. They appear to have received the pear from the Romans, as its name _pera_, a pear, and _piriga_, a pear-tree, was evidently taken from _pirus_. They had also derived from the Roman gardens, no doubt, the cherry-tree (_cyrs-treow_, or _ciris-beam_, from the Latin _cerasus_), the peach (_persoc-treow_, from _persicarius_), the mulberry (_mor-beam_, from _morus_), the chestnut (_cysten_, _cyst_, or _cystel-beam_, from _castaneus_),[31] perhaps the almond (_magdala-treow_, from _amigdalus_), the fig (_fic-beam_, from _ficus_), and the pine (_pin-treow_, from _pinus_). The small kernels of the pine were used very extensively in the middle ages, in the same way as olives. We must add to these the plum (_plum-treow_), the name of which is Anglo-Saxon; the medlar, which was known in Anglo-Saxon by a very unexplainable name, but one which was preferred to a comparatively recent period; the quince, which was called a _cod-æple_, or bag-apple; the nut (_hnutu_), and the hazel-nut (_hæsel-hnutu_). They called the olive an oil-tree (_ale-beam_), which would seem to prove that they considered its principal utility to be for making oil. The vine was well-known to the Anglo-Saxons; they called it the _win-treow_, or wine-tree, its fruit, _winberige_, or wine berries, and a bunch of grapes, _geclystre_, a cluster. We find no Anglo-Saxon words for gooseberries or currants; but our forefathers were well acquainted with the strawberry (_strea-berige_) and the raspberry, which they called _hynd-berige_. Perhaps these last-mentioned fruits, which are known to be natives of Britain, were known only in their wild state.[32]

The earliest account of an English garden is given by Alexander Neckam, who flourished in the latter half of the twelfth century, in the sixty-sixth chapter of the second book of his treatise, _De naturis rerum_, which exists only in manuscripts (I quote from one in the British Museum, MS. Reg. 12 G. xi.). He introduces at least one plant, the mandrake, which was fabulous, and gives several names which I shall be obliged to leave in his original Latin, as, perhaps through corruption of the text, I cannot interpret them, but there can be little doubt that it is in general a correct enumeration of the plants and trees cultivated in a complete English garden of the period. “A garden,” he says, “should be adorned on this part with roses, lilies, the marigold, _molis_, and mandrakes, and on that part with parsley, cost, fennel, southernwood, coriander, sage, savery, hyssop, mint, rue, dittany, smallage, pellitory, lettuce, cresses, _ortulano_, and the piony. Let there also be beds (_areæ_) enriched with onions, leeks, garlic, melons, and scallions (_hinnuilis_). The garden is also ennobled by the cucumber which creeps on its belly, and by the soporiferous poppy, as well as by the daffodil and the acanthus. Nor let pot-herbs be wanting, if you can help it, such as beets, herb mercury, orache, the _acedula_, (sorrel?) and the mallow. It is useful also to the gardener to have anise, mustard, white pepper, and wormwood.” Neckam then goes on to the fruit-trees. “A noble garden,” he says, “will give you medlars, quinces, the pearmain (_volema_), peaches, pears of St. Regle, pomegranates, citrons (or lemons), oranges, almonds, dates, and figs.” When Neckam speaks of a “noble garden,” he of course speaks of that of a great baron or prince, and enumerates fruits of choice, and mostly above the common range. Medlars and quinces were formerly held in great esteem, and much used. I have ventured to interpret _volema_ as meaning the pearmain, which was considered one of the choicest apples, as the apple is not mentioned in the list, and as in one of the early glossaries that meaning is attached to the word. Peaches were, as we have seen, known to the Anglo-Saxons; and in 1276 we find slips of peach-trees mentioned in an official record as planted in the king’s garden at Westminster. The pear of St. Regle was one of the choice kinds of pears brought from France, and it and several other kinds of pears are enumerated in the accounts of the earl of Lincoln’s garden in Holborn (London) in 1296. It is rather surprising that Mr. Hudson Turner, in his very valuable volume on domestic architecture, where he supposes that _mala aurea_ in Neckam’s list were intended for the golden apples of the Hesperides, should not have known that the _malum aureum_ of the middle ages was the orange. Pomegranates, citrons, oranges, almonds, dates, and figs, are known to have been cultivated in England at different periods, but it is not probable that the fruit came often to perfection. It may be remarked that Neckam gives a separate chapter to the cultivation of the vine, which belonged to the vineyard, and not to the garden. After an enumeration of plants which were not grown in Western Europe, Neckam gives a list of others, known for their medicinal qualities, some of which can hardly have been planted in a garden, unless it belonged to a physician; although it appears to have been the custom to devote a corner of the garden to the medicinal plants most in use, in order that they might be ready at hand when wanted. The gardener’s tools in the twelfth century, as enumerated by Neckam in his treatise _De Utensilibus_, were few and simple; he had an axe, or twibill, a knife for grafting, a spade, and a pruning-hook.

John de Garlande lived during the first half of the thirteenth century. He was an Englishman, but had established himself as a scholar in the university of Paris, so that the description of his garden which he gives in his “Dictionarius” may be considered as that of a garden in the neighbourhood of Paris, which, however, probably hardly differed from a garden in England. It may be considered as the garden of a respectable burgher. “In master John’s garden are these plants, sage, parsley, dittany, hyssop, celandine, fennel, pellitory, the rose, the lily, and the violet; and at the side (_i. e._ in the hedge), the nettle, the thistle, and foxgloves. His garden also contains medicinal herbs, namely, mercury and the mallow, agrimony, with nightshade, and the marigold.” Master John’s gardener had also a garden for his potherbs, in which grew borage, leeks, garlic, mustard, onions, cibols, and scallions; and in his shrubbery grew pimpernel, mouseare, selfheal, buglos, adderstongue, and “other herbs good for men’s bodies.”[33] Master John had in his fruit-garden, cherry-trees, pear-trees, apple-trees, plum-trees, quinces, medlars, peaches, chestnuts, nuts, wallnuts, figs, and grapes. Walter de Bibblesworth, writing in England towards the close of the thirteenth century, enumerates as the principal fruit-trees in a common garden, apples, pears, and cherries--

_Pomere, perere, e cerecer_;

and adds the plum-tree (_pruner_), and the quince-tree (_coingner_).

The cherry, indeed, appears to have been one of the most popular of fruits in England, during the mediæval period. The records of the time contain purchases of cherry-trees for the king’s garden in Westminster in 1238 and 1277, and cherries and cherry-trees are enumerated in all the glossaries from the times of the Anglo-Saxons to the sixteenth century. The earl of Lincoln had cherry-trees in his garden in Holborn towards the close of the thirteenth century, and during the same century we have allusions to the cultivation of the cherry in other parts of the kingdom. The allusions to cherries in the early poetry are not at all unfrequent, and they were closely mixed up with popular manners and feelings. It appears to have been the custom, from a rather early period, to have fairs or feasts, probably in the cherry orchards, during the period that the fruit was ripe, which were called cherry-fairs, and sometimes cherry-feasts; and these are remembered, if they do not still exist, in our great cherry districts, such as Worcestershire and Kent. They were brief moments of great gaiety and enjoyment, and the poets loved to quote them as emblems of the transitory character of all worldly things. In the latter part of the fourteenth century, the poet Gower, speaking of the teachers of religion and morality, says:--

_They prechen us in audience_
_That no man schalle his soule empeyre_ (impair),
_For alle is but a cherye-fayre_.

And the same writer again:--

_Sumtyme I drawe into memoyre,_
_How sorow may not ever laste,_
_And so cometh hope in at laste,_
_Whan I non other foode knowe;_
_And that endureth but a throwe,_
_Ryght as it were a chery-feste._

So again, under the reign of Henry IV., about the year 1411, Occleve, in his poem “De regimine principum,” recently printed for the Roxburgh Club, says (p. 47),--

_Thy lyfe, my sone, is but a chery-feire._

During the rest of the fifteenth century, the allusions to the cherry-fairs are very frequent.[34] Yet in face of all this, and still more, abundant evidence, Loudon (“Encyclopædia of Gardening,” edition of 1850) says, “Some suppose that the cherries introduced by the Romans into Britain were lost, and that they were re-introduced in the time of Henry VIII. by Richard Haines (it should be Harris), the fruiterer to that monarch. But though we have no proof that cherries were in England at the time of the Norman conquest, or for some centuries after it, yet Warton has proved, by a quotation from Lidgate, a poet who wrote about or before 1415, that the hawkers in London were wont to expose cherries for sale, in the same manner as is now done early in the season.”

To turn from the fruit-garden to the flower-garden, modern writers have fallen into many similar mistakes as to the supposed recent date of the introduction of various plants into this country. Loudon, for instance, says that we owe the introduction of the gilliflower, or clove-pink (_dianthus caryophyllus_), to the Flemings, who took refuge on our shores from the savage persecutions of the duke of Alva, in the latter half of the sixteenth century; whereas this flower was certainly well known, under the name of gillofres, ages before. Roses, lilies, violets, and periwinkles, seem to have continued to be the favourite garden-flowers. A manuscript of the fifteenth century in the British Museum (MS. Sloane, No. 1201) furnishes us with a list of plants then considered necessary for a garden, arranged first alphabetically, and then in classes, of which I will here give verbatim the latter part, as the best illustration of the mediæval notion of a garden, and as being, at the same time, a very complete list. After the alphabetical list, the manuscript goes on:--

_Of the same herbes for potage._

Borage, langdebefe[35], vyolettes, malowes, marcury, daundelyoun, avence, myntes, sauge, parcely, goldes[36], mageroum[37], ffenelle, carawey, red nettylle, oculus Christi[38], daysys, chervelle, lekez, colewortes, rapez, tyme, cyves, betes, alysaundre, letyse, betayne, columbyne, allia, astralogya rotunda, astralogia longa, basillicam[39], dylle, deteyne, hertestong, radiche, white pyper, cabagez, sedewale, spynache, coliaundre, ffoothistylle[40], orage, cartabus, lympens, nepte, clarey, pacience.

_Of the same herbes for sauce._

Hertestonge, sorelle, pelytory, pelytory of spayne, deteyne, vyolettes, parcely, myntes.

_Also of the same herbez for the coppe._

Cost, costmary, sauge, isope, rose mary, gyllofre, goldez, clarey, mageroum, rue.

_Also of the same herbes for a salade._

Buddus of stanmarche[41], vyolette flourez, parcely, red myntes, syves[42], cresse of Boleyne, purselane, ramsons, calamyntes, primerose buddus, dayses, rapounses, daundelyoun, rokette, red nettelle, borage flourez, croppus of red ffenelle, selbestryve, chykynwede.

_Also herbez to stylle_ (distill).

Endyve, rede rose, rose mary, dragans[43], skabiose, ewfrace[44], wermode, mogwede, beteyne, wylde tansey, sauge, isope, ersesmart.

_Also herbes for savour and beauté._

Gyllofre gentyle, mageroum gentyle, brasyle, palma Christi, stycadose, meloncez, arcachaffe, scalacely[45], philyppendula[46], popy royalle, germaundre, cowsloppus of Jerusalem, verveyne, dylle, seynt Mare, garlek.

_Also rotys_ (roots) _for a gardyne_.

Parsenepez, turnepez, radyche, karettes, galyngale, eryngez[47], saffrone.

_Also for an herbere._

Vynes, rosers, lylés, thewberies[48], almondez, bay-trees, gourdes, date-trese, peche-trese, pyneappulle, pyany romain, rose campy, cartabus, seliane, columbyne gentyle, elabre.

* * * * *

The processes of gardening were simple and easy, and the gardener’s skill consisted chiefly in the knowledge of the seasons for sowing and planting different herbs and trees, and of the astrological circumstances under which these processes could be performed most advantageously. The great ambition of the mediæval horticulturist was to excel in the various mysteries of grafting, and he entertained theories on this subject of the most visionary character, many of which were founded on the writings of the ancients; for the mediæval theories were accustomed to select from the doctrines of antiquity that which was most visionary, and it usually became still more visionary in their hands. Two English treatises on gardening were current in the fifteenth century, one founded upon the Latin treatise of Palladius, and entitled “Godfrey upon Palladie de Agricultura,” the other by Nicholas Bollarde, a monk of Westminster--the monks were great gardeners. These treatises occur not unfrequently in manuscripts, and both are found in the British Museum, in the Sloane MS., No. 7. An abridgment of them was edited by Mr. Halliwell, from the Porkington manuscript, in a collection of “Early English Miscellanies,” printed for the Warton Club. In these treatises, cherry-trees appear to have been more than any others the subjects of experiment, and to have been favourite stocks for grafting. Among the receipts given in these treatises we may mention those for making cherries grow without stones, and other fruit without cores; for making the fruit of trees bear any colour you like; for making old trees young; for making sour fruit sweet; and “to have grapes ripe as soon as pears or cherries.” This was to be brought about by grafting the vine on a cherry-tree, according to the following directions, the spelling of which I modernise:--“Set a vine by a cherry till it grow, and at the beginning of February when time is, make a hole through the cherry-tree at what height thou wilt, and draw through the vine branch so that it fill the hole, and shave away the old bark of the vine as much as shall be in the hole, and put it in so that the part shaven fill the hole full, and let it stand a year till they be ‘souded’ together, then cut away the root end of the vine, and lap it with clay round about, and keep it so after other graftings aforesaid.” This is from Nicholas Bollarde. Godfrey upon Palladius tells us how “to have many roses. Take the hard pepins that be right ripe, and sow them in February or March, and when they spring, water them well, and after a year complete thou mayst transplant them; and if thou wilt have timely (early) roses, delve about the roots one or two handbreadths, and water their scions with warm water; and for to keep them long, put them in honeycombs.” According to the receipts edited by Mr. Halliwell, “If thou wilt that in the stone of a peach-apple (this was the ordinary name for a peach) be found a nut-kernel, graft a spring (sprout) of a peach-tree on the stock of a nut-tree. Also a peach-tree shall bring forth pomegranates, if it be sprong (sprinkled) oft times with goat’s milk three days when it beginneth to flower. Also the apples of a peach-tree shall wax red, if its scion be grafted on a playne tree.” Such were the intellectual vagaries of “superstitious eld.”

Peaches are frequently mentioned among the fruit of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries; but nectarines or apricots are not met with before the fifteenth century. The latter were called in old English by their French name of _abricots_, and subsequently, and still more frequently, apricocks.