Chapter II: Of Herbs Chiefly Used in the Past (1)

The wyfe of Bath was so wery, she had no wyl to walk;
She toke the Priores by the honde, “Madam, wol ye stalk
Pryvely into the garden to se the herbis growe?”
. . . And forth on they wend
Passing forth softly into the herbery.

_Prologue to Beryn_--URRY’S Edition.

ALEXANDERS (_Smyrnum Olusatrium_).

Alexanders, Allisanders, the black Pot-herb or Wild Horse-Parsley, as it is variously called, grows naturally near the sea, and has often been seen growing wild near old buildings. The Italians call it _Herba Alexandrina_, according to some writers, because it was supposed originally to have come from Alexandria; according to others, because its[38] old name was _Petroselinum Alexandrinum_, or _Alexandrina_, “so-called of _Alexander_, the finder thereof.” The leaves are “cut into many parcells like those of Smallage,” but are larger; the seeds have an “aromaticall and spicy smell”; the root is like a little radish and good to be eaten, and if broken or cut “there issueth a juice that quickly waxeth thicke, having in it a sharpe bitterness, like in taste unto Myrrh.” The upper parts of the roots (being the tenderest) and leaves were used in broth; the young tops make an “excellent Vernal Pottage,” and may be eaten as salad, by themselves or “in composition in the Spring, or, if they be blanched, in the Winter.” They were chiefly recommended for the time of Lent, in a day when Lent was more strictly kept than it is now, because they are supposed to go well with fish. Alexanders resemble celery, by which it has been almost entirely supplanted, and if desired as food should be sown every year, for though it continues to grow, it produces nothing fit for the table after the second year. Pliny says it should be “digged or delved over once or twice, yea, and at any time from the blowing of the western wind Favonius in Februarie, until the later Equinox in September be past.” The reference to Favonius reminds one of those lines of exquisite freshness translated from Leonidas.

’Tis time to sail--the swallow’s note is heard!
Who chattering down the soft west wind is come.
The fields are all a-flower, the waves are dumb,
Which ersts the winnowing blast of winter stirred.

Loose cable, friend, and bid your anchor rise,
Crowd all your canvas at Priapus’ hest,
Who tells you from your harbours, “Now, ’twere best,
Sailor, to sail upon your merchandise.”

[38] Britten, “Dictionary of English Plant-Names.”

ANGELICA (_Archangelica officinalis_).

Contagious aire, ingendring pestilence,
Infects not those that in their mouths have ta’en,
Angelica that happy Counterbane,
Sent down from heav’n by some celestial scout,
As well the name and nature both avow’t.

_Du Bartas_--SYLVESTER’S TRANSLATION, 1641.

And Master-wort, whose name Dominion wears,
With her, who an Angelick Title bears.

_Of Plants_, book ii.--COWLEY.

As these lines declare, Angelica was believed to have sprung from a heavenly origin, and greatly were its powers revered. Parkinson says, “All Christian nations likewise in their appellations hereof follow the Latine name as near as their Dialect will permit, onely in Sussex they call the wilde Kinde Kex, and the weavers wind their yarne on the dead stalkes.” The Laplanders crowned their poets with it, believing that the odour inspired them, and they also thought that the use of it “strengthens life.” The roots hung round the neck “are available against witchcraft and inchantments,” so Gerarde says, and thereby makes a concession to popular superstition, which he very rarely does. A piece of the root held in the mouth drives away infection of pestilence, and is good against all poisons, mad dogs or venomous beasts! Parkinson puts it first and foremost in a list of specially excellent medicinal herbs that he makes “for the profit and use of Country Gentlewomen and others,” and writes: “The whole plante, both leafe, roote, and seede is of an excellent comfortable sent, savour and taste.” No wonder with such powers that it gained its name. Angelica comes into a remedy for a wound from an _arquebusade_ or arquebuse, called _Eau d’Arquebusade_, which was first mentioned by Phillippe de Comines in his account of the battle of Morat, 1476. “The French still prepare it very carefully from a great number of aromatic herbs. In England, where it is the _Aqua Vulneria_ of the Pharmacopœias, the formula is: Dried mint, angelica tops and wormwood, angelica seeds, oil of juniper and spirit of rosemary distilled with rectified spirit and water (Timbs).” It must be borne in mind that Timbs wrote some time ago, and that the knowledge of modern French scientists, like that of our own, has increased since then.

Although it is of no value in medicine (it is next to none when cultivated) our garden angelica also grows wild, and can be safely eaten. Gerarde is amusing on this point. He says it grows in an “Island in the North called Island (Iceland?). It is eaten of the inhabitants, the barke being pilled off, as we understand by some that have travelled into Island, who were sometimes compelled to eate hereof for want of other food; and they report that it hath a good and pleasant taste _to them that are hungry_.” The last words are significant! Formerly, the leaf-stalks were blanched, and eaten as celery is, but now they are chiefly used, candied, for dessert. The art of candying seems to have been brought closer to perfection abroad than at home in Turner’s time, for he says: “The rootes are now condited in Danske, for a friend of mine in London, called Maister Aleyne, a merchant man, who hath ventured over to Danske, sent me a little vessel of these, well condited with honey, very excellent good. Wherefore they that would have anye Angelica maye speake to the Marchauntes of Danske, who can provide them enough.” The fruit is used to flavour _Chartreuse_ and other “cordials.”

BLITES (_Blitum_).

Dr Prior confirms Evelyn, in calling _Bonus Henricus_ Blites, but the older herbalists seem to have given this name to another plant of the same tribe, the _Chenopodiaceæ_, because they treat of _Blites_ and _Bonus Henricus_ in separate chapters. Parkinson is very uncomplimentary to them. “Blitum are of the species Amaranthum, Flower Gentle. They are used as arrach, eyther boyled of itself or stewed, which they call Loblolly.... It is altogether insipid and without taste. The unsavouriness whereof hath in many countries grown into a proverb, or by-word, to call dull, slow or lazy persons by that name.” The context points to the nickname coming from “Blites,” but no such term of reproach now exists, though the contemptuous _sobriquet_ “Loblolly-boy” is sometimes seen in old-fashioned nautical novels. Blites were said to be hurtful to the eyes, a belief that draws a scathing remark from Gerarde, “I have heard many old wives say to their servants, ‘Gather no Blites to put in my pottage, for they are not good for the eyesight’; whence they had those words I know not, it may be of some doctor that never went to school.” Culpepper mentions that wild blites “the fishes are delighted with, and it is a good and usual bait, for fishes will bite fast enough at them if you have but wit enough to catch when they bite.” Altogether this insipid vegetable gives scope for a good many sharp things to be said.

_Blitum capitatum_, usually known as strawberry-spinach, is sometimes grown in flower gardens.

BLOODWORT (_Lapathum Sanguineum_).

The modern Latin name for this dock is _Rumex Sanguineus_, but Gesner had a more imposing title, _Sanguis draconis herba_ (Dragon’s blood plant). These names are, of course, derived from the crimson colour of its veins, and are the finest thing about it. The little notice it does get is not unmixed praise. “Among the sorts of pot-herbes, Blood-worte hath always been accounted a principall one, although I _doe not see any great reason therein_.” This is Parkinson’s opinion, but the italics are mine.

BUCK’S-HORNE (_Senebiera Coronopus_).

As true as steel,
As Plantage to the moon.

_Troilus and Cressida_, iii. 2.

And plantain ribb’d that heals the reaper’s wound,
And marg’ram sweet, in shepherds’ posies found.

_The School-Mistress._--SHENSTONE.

Buck’s-horne is distinct from Buckshorn Plantain (_Plantago Coronopus_), but it is the latter which is chiefly interesting, and which is meant here. In Evelyn’s day the Latin name was _Cornu Cervinum_, and other names are _Herba Stella_, Herb Ivy and _Corne de Cerf_. Some kinds of plantain were considered good for wounds, but the saying that “plantage” is true to the moon is hard to solve. Buck’s-horne is a plant that has gone altogether out of fashion. In 1577 Hill wrote, “What care and skil is required in the sowing and ordering of the Buck’s-horne, Strawberries and Mustardseede,”--and how odd it looks now to see it coupled with the two other names, as a cherished object to spend pains upon! Le Quintinye says that the leaves, when tender, were used in “Sallad Furnitures... and the little Birds are very greedy of them.” It used to be held profitable for agues if “the rootes, with the rest of the herb,” were hung about the necke, “as nine to men and seven to women and children, but this as many other are idle amulets of no worth or value... yet, since, it hath been reported to me for a certaintie that the leaves of Buck’shorne Plantane laid to their sides that have an ague, will suddenly ease the fit, as if it had been done by witcherie; the leaves and rootes also beaten with some bay salt and applied to the wrestes, worketh the same effects, which I hold to be more reasonable and proper.” Parkinson is very ready to lay down the law as to the limits of empiricism. He is very severe about a superstition connected with Mugwort, but though the same tradition exists of plantain, and (under Mugwort) he quotes Mizaldus as mentioning it, he says nothing about this folly here. Aubrey, however, gives an account of it in his “Miscellanies.” “The last summer, on the day of St John Baptist, I accidently was walking in the pasture behind Montague House; it was twelve o’clock. I saw there about two or three and twenty young women, most of them well habited, on their knees, very busie, as if they had been weeding. I could not presently learn what the matter was; at last a young man told me that they were looking for a coal under the root of a plantain, to put under their heads that night, and they should dream who would be their husbands. It was to be found that day and hour.” This miraculous “coal” also preserved the wearer from all sorts of diseases.

CAMOMILE (_Anthemis nobilis_).

Diana!
Have I (to make thee crowns) been gathering still,
Fair-cheek’d Eteria’s yellow camomile?

_Br. Pastorals._

Flowers of the field and windflowers springing glad
--In airs Sicilian, and the golden bough
Of sacred Plato, shining in its worth.
. . . With phlox of Phœdimas and chamomile,
The crinkled ox-eye of Antagoras.

_Trans. from Meleager._

The healthful balm and mint from their full laps do fly,
The scentful camomile.

_Polyolbion_, Song xv.

_Falstaff._ Though the Camomile the more it is trodden on the faster
it grows, yet youth the more it is wasted the sooner it wears.--_I.
Henry IV._ ii. 4.

The camomile is dedicated to St Anne, mother of the Virgin Mary, and Mr Friend thinks that the Latin name of wild camomile, _Matricaria_, comes from a “fanciful derivation” of this word, from _mater_ and _cara_, or “Beloved Mother.” The name camomile itself is derived from a Greek word meaning “earth-apples,” and its pleasant, refreshing smell is rather like that of ripe apples. The Spaniards call it _Manzanilla_, “a little apple.” It was grown “both for pleasure and profit, both inward and outward diseases, both for the sicke and the sound,” and was “planted of the rootes in alleys, in walks, and on banks to sit on, for that the more it is trodden upon and pressed down in dry weather, the closer it groweth and the better it will thrive.” This was a common belief in earlier days, as Falstaff’s remark shows.

Culpepper is as trenchant as usual on the subject. “Nichersor, saith the Egyptians, dedicated it to the sun, because it cured agues, and they were like enough to do it, for they were the arrantest apes in their religion I have ever read of.” Why his indignation is so much excited is not clear, but probably it is because Agues (being watery diseases) were under the moon, and therefore they should have dedicated a herb that cured agues to the Moon. However, he holds to the view that camomile is good for all agues, although it is an herb of the sun--who has nothing to do with such diseases, as a rule. Turner criticises Amatus Lusitanus with some shrewdness. This writer, who had apparently taken upon him to teach “Spanyardes, Italians, Frenchmen and Germans the name of Herbes in their tongues, writeth that Camomile is commonlye knowne,” and with this bald statement contented himself. “Wherefore it is lykely he knoweth nether of both [kinds of Camomile]. Wherefore he had done better to have sayde, ‘I do knowe nether of both, then thus shortly to passe by them.’ Camomile is still officinal, and is used for fomentations. ‘If taken internally it should be infused with cold water, as heat dissipates the oil.’”

_Feverfew_ is so nearly related to camomile that it may be mentioned here. Indeed some writers call it “a Wild Camomile,” and give it _Matricaria Parthenum_ for a Latin name. Most botanists, however, place it “in the genus _Pyrethrum_.” Mr Britten calls it _Pyrethrum Parthenium_. “Feverfew” comes from “febrifuge,” for it was supposed to have wonderful power to drive away fevers and agues; and it is still a favourite remedy with village people. Nora Hopper brings it in among the fairies:--

There’s many feet on the moor to-night,
And they fall so light as they turn and pass,
So light and true, that they shake no dew,
From the featherfew and the Hungry-Grass.

_The Fairy Music._

CARDOONS (_Cynara Cardunculus_).

This plant is also called Spanish Cardoon or Cardoon of Tours. It is a kind of artichoke “which becomes a truly gigantic herbaceous vegetable. The tender stalks of the inner leaves are sometimes blanched and stewed, or used in soups and salads”; but it is much less used in England than on the Continent. Cardoons are said to yield a good yellow dye.

CLARY (_Salvia Sclarea_).

Percely, clarey and eke sage,
And all other herbage.

JOHN GARDENER.

“Clary, or more properly Clear-eyes,” which indicates one of its supposed chief virtues plainly enough. Wild Clary was called _Oculus Christi_, and was even more valued than the garden kind. Clary was once “used for making wine, which resembles Frontignac, and is remarkable for its narcotic qualities.”[39] It was also added to “Ale and Beere in these Northern regions (I think the Netherlands are meant here) to make it the more heady.” The young plant itself was eaten, and an approved way of dressing it was to put it in an omelette “made up with cream, fried in sweet butter” and eaten with sugar and the juice of oranges or lemons. It is now sometimes used to season soups, and Hogg tells us that it was used “in Austria as a perfume; in confectionery, and to the jellies of fruits, it communicates the flavour of pine-apple.” The herbalists speak of a plant called Yellow Clary or “Jupiter’s Distaff,” and Mr Britten suggests that this was _Phlomus fruticosa_.

[39] Timbs.

DITTANDER (_Lepidium Latifolium_).

Dittander or Pepperwort grows wild in a few places in England, but was once cultivated. It was sometimes used as “a sauce or sallet to meate, but is too hot, bitter and strong for everyone’s taste.” These qualities have gained it the names of Poor Man’s Pepper, and from Tusser, Garden Ginger. Culpepper’s opinion is briefly expressed: “Here is another martial herb for you, make much of it.” It is so “hot and fiery sharpe” that it is said to raise a blister on the hand of anyone who holds it for a while, and _therefore_ (on homœopathic principles) it was recommended “to take away marks, scarres... and the marks of burning with fire or Iron.”

ELECAMPANE (_Inula Helenium_).

Elecampane, the beauteous Helen’s flower,
Mingles among the rest her silver store.

RAPIN.

“Some think it took the name from the teares of _Helen_, from whence it sprang, which is a fable; others that she had her hands full of this herbe when _Paris_ carried her away; others say it was so called because Helen first found it available against the bitings and stingings of venomous beasts; and others thinke that it tooke the name from the Island Helena, where the best was found to grow.” Parkinson gives a wide choice for opinions on the origin of Elecampane, the two first “fables” are very picturesque. The radiant gold of the flowers would be gorgeous but beautiful, in a loose bunch, in a meadow, though in-doors they would be apt to look big and glaring. Gerarde speaks of them being “in their braverie in June and July,” and adds that the root “is marvellous good for many things.” Since the days of Helen the fairies have laid hold of the plant, and another name for it (in Denmark) is Elf-Dock. Elecampane has had a great reputation since the days of Pliny, and was considered specially good for coughs, asthma and shortness of breath. Elecampane lozenges were much recommended, and the root was candied and eaten as a sweetmeat till comparatively lately. It is said to have antiseptic qualities, and according to Dr Fernie has been used in Spain as a surgical dressing.

FENUGREEK (_Trigonella fœnum græcum_).

Fenugreek “hath many leaves, but three alwayes set together on a foot-stalke, almost round at the ends, a little dented about the sides, greene above and grayish underneath; from the joynts with the leaves come forth white flowers, and after them, crooked, flattish long hornes, small pointed, with yellowish cornered seedes within them.” This description is very exact, and, indeed, the conspicuous horn-like pods, singularly large for the size of the plant, are its most marked characteristic. Turner says: “This herbe is called in Greek Keratitis, y^{t} is horned, aigō keros y^{t} is gotes horne, and ŏ onkeros, that is cows horne.” Fenugreek was a Favourite of the “antients,” and Folkard gives an account of a festival held by Antiochus Epiphanus, the Syrian king, of which one feature was a procession, where boys carried golden dishes containing frankincense, myrrh and saffron, and two hundred women, out of golden watering-pots, sprinkled perfume on the assembled guests. All who went to watch the games in the gymnasium were anointed with some perfume from fifteen gold dishes, which held saffron, amaracus, lilies, cinnamon, spikenard, fenugreek, etc. In England it was used for more prosaic purposes, “Galen and others say that they were eaten as Lupines, and the Egyptians and others eate the seedes yet to this day as Pulse or meate.” The herb, he continues, he has never heard of as being used in England, because it was very little grown, but the seed was used in medicine. Gerarde gives us one of its pleasantest preparations as a drug. In old diseases of the chest, without a fever, fat dates are to be boiled with it, with a great quantitie of honey. In 1868 Rhind[40] writes that the seeds are no longer given in medicine, and but rarely used in “fomentations and cataplasms.” Since that date, I should imagine, it is even more rarely used. Fenugreek was at one time prescribed by veterinary surgeons for horses.

[40] “History of the Vegetable Kingdom.”

GOOD KING HENRY (_Chenopodium Bonus Henricus_).

This plant is otherwise known as Fat Hen, Shoemaker’s Heels, English Mercury, or as Evelyn says, Blite. He begins with praise: “The Tops may be eaten as Sparagus or sodden in Pottage, and as a very salubrious Esculent. There is both a white and red, much us’d in Spain and Italy”; but he finishes lamely for all his praise: “’tis insipid enough.” Gerarde says: “It is called of the Germans _Guter Heinrick_, of a certaine good qualitie it hath,” and its name is much the most interesting thing about it. Various writers have tried to attach it to our successive kings of that name, with a want of ingenuousness and ingenuity equally deplorable. Grimm[41] traces it back till he finds that this was one of the many plants appropriated to Heinz or Heinrich--the “household goblin,” who plays tricks on the maids or helps them with their work, and asks no more than a bowl of cream set over-night for his reward--who, in fact, holds much the same place as our Robin Goodfellow holds here.

[41] Teutonic Mythology.

HERB-PATIENCE (_Rumex Patienta_).

Sequestered leafy glades,
That through the dimness of their twilight show
Large dock-leaves, spiral fox-gloves, or the glow
Of the wild cat’s-eyes, or the silvery stems
Of delicate birch trees, in long grass which hems
A little brook.

_Calidore_--KEATS.

La _tulipe_ est pour la fierté,
Pour le malheur la _patience_.

_La Petite Corbeille._

The Herb-Patience does not grow in every man’s garden.

_Proverb._

Herb-Patience was also called Patience-Dock or Monk’s Rhubarb. The French call Water-Dock, _Patience d’eau_ and _Parelle des Marais_, so the name of the quality that is, in nursery rhyme, a “virtue,” and a “grace,” clings to this dock! Parkinson compares it unfavourably with Bastard Rhubarb, though he says the root is often used in “diet beere”; but Gerarde calls it an “excellent, wholesome pot-herbe,” and relates a tale, in which responsibilities are treated with such delightful airiness that it must be repeated here. He begins by saying that he himself is “no graduate, but a country scholler,” but hopes his “good meaning will be well taken, considering I doe my best, not doubting but some of greater learning will perfect that which I have begun, according to my small skill, especially the ice being broken unto him and the wood rough-hewed to his hands.” Nevertheless, he (who dictates on these matters, to a great extent, through his Herbal) thinks that the learned may gain occasionally from his knowledge. “One _John Bennet_, a chirurgion, of Maidstone in Kent, a man as slenderly learned as myselfe,” undertook to cure a butcher’s boy of an ague. “He promised him a medicine, and for want of one for the present (he himselfe confessed unto me) he tooke out of his garden three or four leaves of this plant” and administered them in ale, with entire success. “Whose blunt attempt may set an edge upon some sharper wit and greater judgment in the faculties of plants.” Any anticipation that his experiment might lead to disaster does not seem to have troubled him! The root of Patience-Dock “boiled in the water of _Carduus Benedictus_” was also given at a venture for an ague, and this experiment was tried by “a worshipfull gentlewoman, mistresse Anne Wylbraham, upon divers of her poore Neighbours, with good success.” Mistress Anne Wylbraham must have been a woman of temerity!

Garden-patience used to be a good deal cultivated as spinach, but is now very much ignored, partly because few people know how to cook it. The leaves should be used early in the spring while they are still tender, and the flavour will be very much improved if about a fourth part of common sorrel is added to them. This way of dressing patience-dock was very popular in Sweden, and is described as “forming an excellent spinach dish.” Patience is sometimes spoken of as “passions,” but this name properly belongs to _Polygonum Bistorta_, the leaves of which were the principal ingredient in a herb-pudding, formerly eaten on Good Friday in the North of England. Parkinson also speaks in this chapter of the “true rhubarb of Rhapontick,” which has “leaves of sad or dark-greene colour... of a fine tart or sourish taste, much more pleasant than the garden or wood sorrell.” Dr Thornton, however, says that Parkinson was mistaken, and that the first seeds of true rhubarb were sent “by the great Boerhaave to our famous gardener, Miller, in 1759”--more than a hundred years later. Very soon after Miller had it, rhubarb was cultivated in many parts of England and in certain localities in Scotland.

HOREHOUND (_Marrubium vulgare_).

Here hore-hound ’gainst the mad dog’s ill
By biting, never failing.

_Muses Elysium._

Pale hore-hound, which he holds of most especiall use.

_Polyolbion_, Song xiii.

Folkard says that horehound is one of the five plants stated by the Mishna to be the “bitter herbs,” which the Jews were ordered to take for the Feast of the Passover, the other four being coriander, horse-radish, lettuce and nettle. The name _Marrubium_ is supposed to come from the Hebrew _Marrob_, a bitter juice. De Gubernatis writes that horehound was once regarded as a “contre-poison magique,” but very little is said about it on the whole, and it is an uninteresting plant to look at, and much like many others of the labiate tribe. Long ago the Apothecaries sold “sirop of horehound” for “old coughs” and kindred disorders, and horehound tea and candied horehound are still made to relieve the same troubles. Candied horehound is made by boiling down the fresh leaves and adding sugar to the juice thus extracted, and then again boiling the juice till it has become thick enough to pour into little cases made of paper.

LADY’S-SMOCK (_Cardamine pratensis_).

Then comes Daffodil beside
Our ladye’s smock at our Ladye-tide.

_An Early Calendar of English Flowers._

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 Lost_, v. 2.

And some to grace the show,
Of lady-smocks do rob the neighbouring mead.
Wherewith their looser locks most curiously they braid.

_Polyolbion_, Song xx.

And now and then among, of eglantine a spray,
By which again a course of lady-smocks they lay.

Song xv.

The honeysuckle round the porch has wov’n its wavy bowers,
And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint, sweet cuckoo flowers,
And the wild march-marigold shines like fire on swamps and hollows
gray.

_The May Queen._--TENNYSON.

“Cuckoo-flower” is a name laid claim to by many flowers, and authorities differ as to which one Shakespeare meant by it. Certainly not the plant under discussion, which is the one we most generally call Cuckoo-flower to-day, for there can be no doubt that this is the “lady’s-smocks” of the line above,--letting alone the fact that the “cuckoo-buds” in the song being of “yellow hue” put the idea out of court. Lord Tennyson’s lines point equally clearly to the _Cardamine pratensis_. Lady’s-smock is said to be a corruption of “Our Lady’s Smock,” and to be one of the plants dedicated to the Virgin, because it comes into blossom about Ladytide; though as a matter of fact the flower is seldom seen so early. It is remarkable how many attentions this graceful, but humble and scentless flower has received; and besides all the poets Isaac Walton mentions it twice: “Look! down at the bottom of the hill there, in that meadow, chequered with water-lilies and lady-smocks.”[42] And later: “Looking on the hills, I could behold them spotted with wood and groves--looking down in the meadow, could see there a boy gathering lilies and lady’s-smocks, and there, a girl cropping culverkeys and cowslips, all to make garlands suitable to this present month of May.” It is difficult to be positive about culverkeys. Columbines, bluebells, primroses and an orchis have all been called by this name at different times. The primrose is cut out of the question here by its colour, for in the poem which has been quoted a little while before Davors sings of “azure culverkeys.” The columbine is rarely found in a wild state and flowers later in the year, the orchis is hardly “azure,” so on the whole it looks as if the likeliest flower would be the wild hyacinth. To return to the lady’s-smocks, Gerarde says they are of “a blushing, white colour,” and like the “white sweet-john.” In the seventeenth century their titles were various and he gives some of them, and in doing so he shows an ingenuous, very pleasing clinging to the names familiar to his youth. “In English, cuckowe flowers, in Northfolke, Canterbury bells, at Namptwich in Cheshire, where I had my beginning, ladiesmocks which hath given me cause to christen it after my country fashion.” Parkinson finds that “these herbes are seldom used eyther as sauce or sallet or in physick, but more for pleasure to decke up the garlands of the country-people, yet divers have reported them to be as affectuall in the scorbute or scurvy as the water-cresses.” The plant was regarded as an excellent remedy for these evils by the inhabitants of those northern countries where salted fish and flesh are largely eaten. The leaves are slightly pungent and somewhat bitter; and in the early part of the nineteenth century it was regarded as an ordinary salad herb, so that its reputation in that respect must have risen since Parkinson’s days.

[42] Complete Angler.

LANGDEBEEFE (_Helminthia echoides_).

Langdebeefe is mentioned with scanty praise. “The leaves are onely used in all places that I knew or ever could learne, for an herbe for the pot among others.” It is difficult to be absolutely certain as to the identity of the plant, for Gerarde places it with Bugloss, and Parkinson, among the Hawkweeds. Mr Britten says, however, that both writers referred to _Helminthia echoides_, but that _Echium vulgare_, Viper’s Bugloss, is the plant that Turner called Langdebeefe, and Viper’s Bugloss is still called Langdebeefe in Central France. Near Paris, however, _Langue de bœuf_ means _Anchusa Italica_. “The leaves,” says Gerarde, “are like the rough tongue of an oxe or cow, whereof it took its name,” and he gives another instance of the _insouciance_ of contemporary physicians. They “put them both into all kindes of medicines indifferently, which are of force and vertue to drive away sorrow and pensiveness of the minde, and to comfort and strengthen the heart.” “Both” refers to Bugloss and “little wilde Buglosse,” which he has just informed us grows upon “the drie ditch bankes about Pickadilla.” Times change!

LIQUORICE (_Glycyrrhiza glabra_).

Gerarde describes two kinds of Liquorice: the first has “woody branches... beset with leaves of an overworne greene colour, and small blew floures of the colour of an English Hyacinth.” From the peculiar shape and roughness of the seed-pods it was distinguished by the name of “Hedge-hogge Licorice.” This kind was very little used. Common Liquorice resembles it very closely, but has less peculiar seed-vessels.

The cultivation of _licorish_ in England began about the year of Queen Elizabeth’s reign, and it has been much grown at Pontefract (whence Pontefract lozenges are named), Worksop, Godalming and Mitcham. It must have been once an extremely profitable crop. “There hath been made from fifty Pound to an hundred Pound of an Acre, as some affirm.” The caution expressed in the last three words is rather nice. “I. W.,” the author of this bit of information (he gives no other signature), published his book in 1681, and was evidently of a very patriotic disposition. He is indignant that “although our English Liquorice exceeds any Foreign whatsoever,” yet we “yearly buy of other Nations,” and Parkinson is of much the same opinion: “The root grown in England is of a fame more weake, sweete taste, yet far more pleasing to us than Licorice that is brought us from beyond Sea,” which is stronger and more bitter. A later writer prefers English roots on the ground that those imported are often “mouldy and spoiled.” “With the juice of Licorice, Ginger and other spices there is made a certaine bread or cakes called Gingerbread, which is very good against the cough.” It is not the light in which Gingerbread is usually looked upon. Liquorice administered in many ways was a great remedy against coughs. Boiled in faire water, with Maiden-haire and Figges, it made a “good ptisane drinke for them that have any dry cough,” and the “juice of Licoris, artificially made with Hyssoppe water,” was recommended against shortness of breath. Extract of Liquorice is to be found in the Pharmacopœia, and it is imported as “Spanish juice.” The extract must be made from the _dried_ root, or else it will not be so bright when it is strained. Dr Fernie says that Liquorice is added to porter and stout to give thickness and blackness.

LOVAGE (_Ligusticum Scoticum_).

Mr Britten says: In Lyte and other early works, this [name] is applied to _Levisticum officinale_, but in modern British books it is assigned to _Ligusticum Scoticum_. It grows wild near the sea-shore in Scotland and Northumberland. Lovage “has many long and great stalkes of large, winged leaves, divided into many parts, ... and with the leaves come forth towards the toppes, long branches, bearing at their toppes large umbells of yellow flowers. The whole plant and every part of it smelleth somewhat strongly and aromatically, and of an hot, sharpe, biting taste. The _Germans_ and other Nations in times past used both the roote and seede instead of Pepper to season their meates and brothes, and found them as comfortable and warming.”[43] Turner mentions Lovage amongst his medical herbs and Culpepper says: “It is an herb of the Sun, under the sign Taurus. If Saturn offend the throat... this is your cure.”

[43] Parkinson.

MALLOW (_Malva_).

With many a curve my banks I fret,
By many a field and fallow
And many a fair by foreland set,
With willow, weed and mallow.

_The Brook._--TENNYSON.

The spring is at the door,
She bears a golden store,
Her maund with yellow daffodils runneth o’er.

* * * * *

After her footsteps follow
The mullein and the mallow,
She scatters golden powder on the sallow.

_Spring Song._--N. HOPPER.

Parkinson praises mallows both for beauty and virtue. “The double ones, which for their Bravery are entertained everywhere into every Countrywoman’s garden. The Venice Mallow is called Good-night-at-noone, though the flowers close so quickly that you shall hardly see a flower blowne up in the day-time after 9 A.M.” Some medical advice follows, in which “All sorts of Mallowes” are praised. “Those that are of most use are most common. The rest are but _taken upon credit_.” The last remark comes quite casually, and apparently those that were “but taken upon credit,” would be comprehended in the “all sorts” and administered without hesitation. French Mallows (_Malva crispa_) is most highly recommended as an excellent pot-herb! indeed all wild mallows may be used in that capacity, and the Romans are said to have considered them a delicacy.

Marsh Mallow (_Althæa officinalis_) has very soothing qualities, and was, and is, much used by country people for inflammation outwardly and inwardly. It contains a great deal of mucilage, in the root particularly. Timbs says: “Dr Sir John Floyer mentions a posset (hot milk curdled by some infusion) in which althœa roots are boiled”; and it must have been a “comforting” one. In France, the young tops and leaves are used in spring salads. “Many of the poorer inhabitants of Syria, especially the Fellahs, the Greeks, and the Armenians, subsist for weeks on herbs, of which the Marsh Mallow is one of the most common. When boiled first, and then fried with onions and butter, they are said to form a palatable dish, and in times of scarcity, consequent upon the failure of the crops, all classes may be seen striving with eagerness to obtain the much desired plant, which fortunately grows in great abundance.”[44] In Job xxx. 3, 4 we read: “For want and famine they were solitary, fleeing into the wilderness in former time desolate and waste. Who cut up mallows by the bushes.” Smith’s “Dictionary of the Bible,” however, casts doubt on this mallow being a mallow at all, and though admitting that it would be quite possible, decides that the evidence points most clearly to _Atriplex Halimus_.

Gerarde says the Tree Mallow “approacheth nearer the substance and nature of wood than any of the others; wherewith the people of Olbia and Narbone in France doe make hedges, to sever or divide their gardens and vineyards which continueth long;” and these hedges must have been a beautiful sight when in flower.

The Hollyhock, of course, belongs to this tribe, and was once apparently eaten as a pot-herb, and found to be an inferior one. It has been put to other uses, for Hogg says that the stalks contain a fibre, “from which a good strong cloth has been manufactured, and in the year 1821 about 280 acres of land near Flint in Wales were planted with the Common Holyhock, with the view of converting the fibre to the same uses as hemp or flax.” It was also discovered in the process of manufacture, that the plant “yields a blue dye, equal in beauty and permanence to that of the best indigo.” This experiment however successful in results, cannot have been justified from a commercial point of view, and was not often repeated, and there is now no trace of its having been ever tried.

In other languages, the Hollyhock has very pretty names; “in low Dutch, it was called _Winter Rosen_, and in French, _Rose d’outremer_.”

[44] Hogg.

MARIGOLD (_Calendula Officinalis_).

Hark! hark! the lark at heaven’s gate sings
And Phœbus ’gins to rise,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chalic’d flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes.

_Cymbeline_, ii. 3.

The marigold that goes to bed wi’ the sun,
And with him rises weeping.

_Winter’s Tale_, iv. 3.

The purple Violets and Marigolds
Shall, as a carpet, hang upon thy grave
While summer days do last.

_Pericles_, iv. 1.

Marigolds on death-beds blowing.

_Two Noble Kinsmen._ Introd. Song.

The Marigold observes the sun,
More than my subjects me have done.
So shuts the marigold her leaves
At the departure of the sun;
So from the honeysuckle sheaves
The bee goes when the day is done.

_Br. Pastorals_, book iii.

But, maiden, see the day is waxen old,
And ’gins to shut in with the marigold.

_Br. Pastorals_, book i.

Open afresh your round of starry folds
Ye ardent marigolds!
Dry up the moisture from your golden lids
For great Apollo bids
That in these days your praises should be sung.
I stood tiptoe, etc.--KEATS.

The marigold above, t’ adorn the arched bar,
The double daisy, thrift, the button batchelor,
Sweet William, sops-in-wine, the campion.

_Polyolbion_, Song xv.

The crimson darnel flower, the blue bottle and _gold_.
Which though esteemed but weeds, yet for their dainty hues
And for their scent not ill, they for this purpose choose.

_Ibid._

The yellow kingcup Flora then assigned.
To be the badges of a jealous mind,
The orange-tawny marigold.

_Br. Pastorals._

The Marigold has enjoyed great and lasting popularity, and though the flower does not charm by its loveliness, the indomitable courage, with which, after even a sharp frost, it lifts up its hanging head, and shows a cheerful countenance, leads one to feel for it affection and respect. In the end of January (1903) here in Devon there were some flowers and opening buds, though ten days before the ice bore for skating. The Latin name refers to its reputed habit of blossoming on the first days of every month in the year, and in a fairly mild winter this is no exaggeration. Marigolds are dedicated to the Virgin, but this fact is not supposed to have had anything to do with the giving of their name, which had probably been bestowed on them before the Festivals in her honour were kept in England, “Though doubtless,” says Mr Friend, “the name of Mary had much to do with the alterations in the name of Marigold, which may be noticed in its history.” There is an idea that they were appropriated to her because they were in flower at all of her Festivals; but on this notion other authorities throw doubt. In ancient days Marigolds were often called Golds, or Goules, or Ruddes; in Provence, a name for them was “_Gauche-fer_[45] (left-hand iron) probably from its brilliant disc, suggestive of a shield worn on the left arm.” Chaucer describes Jealousy as wearing this flower: “Jealousy that werede of yelwe guides a garland”; and Browne calls the “orange-tawny marigold” its badge.

There was a very strong belief that the flowers followed the sun, and many allusions are made to this; amongst them, two melancholy lines which are said to have been drawn from some “Meditations” by Charles I., written at Carisbrooke Castle.

“The marigold observes the sun,
More than my subjects me have done.”

Shakespeare refers often to this idea, and the flower was obviously “to earlier writers the emblem of constancy in affection and sympathy in joy and sorrow, though it was also the emblem of the fawning courtier who could only shine when everything is bright.” (Canon Ellacombe). Marigolds have figured in heraldry, for Marguerite of Valois, grandmother of Henri IV., chose for her armorial device a marigold turning towards the sun, with the motto, _Je ne veux suivre que lui seul_. About the fifteenth century the Marigold was called _Souvenir_, and ladies wore posies of marigolds and heartsease mingled, that is, a bunch of “happiness stored in recollections,” a very pretty allegorical meaning. But it has been the symbol of memories anything but happy, for curiously enough, this sun’s flower means Grief in the language of flowers, and in many countries is connected with the idea of death. This thought occurs in Pericles and in the song in “Two noble Kinsmen.” In America, one name for them is death-flowers, because there is a tradition that they “sprang upon ground stained by the life-blood of these unfortunate Mexicans who fell victims to the love of gold and arrogant cruelty of the early Spanish settlers in America.”[46] However, to restore the balance of happiness, one learns that to dream of Marigolds augurs wealth, prosperity, success, and a rich and happy marriage! In Fuller’s “Antheologia, or the Speech of Flowers”--a most amusing tale--the Marigold occupies a prominent place. The scene opens with a dispute in the Flowers’ Parliament between the Tulip and the Rose. “Whilst this was passing in the _Upper House of Flowers_, no less were the transactions in the _Lower House_ of the _Herbs_; where there was a general acclamation against _Wormwood_. Wormwood’s friends were casually absent that day, making merry at an entertainment, her enemies (let not that sex be angry for making Wormwood feminine) appeared in full body and made so great a noise, as if some mouths had two tongues in them.” Wormwood and the Tulip were eventually both cast out of the garden, and lying by the roadside addressed themselves to a passing Wild Boar, telling him of a hole in the hedge, by which he may creep into the garden and revenge them, and amuse himself by destroying the flowers. At the moment he enters, “Thrift, a Flower-Herb, was just courting Marigold as follows: ‘Mistress of all Flowers that grow on Earth, give me leave to profess my sincerest affections to you.... I have taken signal notice of your accomplishments, and among other rare qualities, particularly of this, your loyalty and faithfulness to the Sun, ... but we all know the many and sovereign virtues in your leaves, the _Herb Generall_ in all pottage.” He then proceeds to praise himself, “I am no gamester to shake away with a quaking hand what a more fixed hand did gain and acquire. I am none of those who in vanity of clothes bury my quick estate as in a winding sheet.” The Marigold demurely hung her head and replied, “I am tempted to have a good opinion of myself, to which all people are prone, and we women most of all, if we may believe your opinions of us, which herein I am afraid are too true.” But she is not deceived by his flattery. “The plain truth is you love me not for myself, but for your advantage. It is _Golden_ the arrear of my _name_, which maketh _Thrift_ to be my suitor. How often and how unworthily have you tendered your affections even to a _Penny royal_ itself, had she not scorned to be courted by you. But I commend the girl that she knew her own worth, though it was but a _penny_, yet it is a _Royal_ one, and therefore not a match for every base _Suitor_, but knew how to value herself; and give me leave to tell you that _Matches_ founded on _Covetousness_ never succeed.” At this point in her spirited reply the Boar approached. “There is no such teacher as extremity; necessity hath found out more Arts than ever ingenuity invented. The Wall Gillyflower ran up to the top of the Wall of the Garden, where it hath grown ever since, and will never descend till it hath good security for its own safety.” Other thrilling scenes follow, and finally the Boar is put an end to by the gardener and “a _Guard_ of Dogs.”

Marigolds stood as a standard of comparison, and Isaac Walton uses the common saying, “As yellow as a Marigold.” Among the various titles of different kinds of Marigold Gerarde gives the oddest, for he calls one variety Jackanapes-on-horseback; Fuller calls it the “Herb-Generall of all pottage,” and it was much esteemed in this capacity. Gay says:

Fair is the gillyflour, for gardens sweet,
Fair is the marigold, for pottage meet.

_The Squabble._

“The yellow leaves of the flowers are dried and kept throughout Dutchland against winter, to put into broths, in physical potions, and for divers other purposes in such quantity that in some Grocers or Spice Sellers houses are to be found barrels filled with them and retailed by the penny more or less, insomuch that no broths are well made without Marigolds.” One is reminded of the childish heroine in Miss Edgeworth’s charming story “Simple Susan” and how she added the petals of Marigolds, as the last touch, to the broth she had made for her invalid mother! Parkinson observes that the flowers “green or dryed are often used in possets, broths and drinks as a comforter to the heart and spirits,” and that Syrup and Conserve are made of the fresh flowers; also “the flowers of Marigold pickt clean from the heads and pickled up against winter make an excellent Sallet when no flowers are to be had in a garden, which Sallet is nowadays in the highest esteem with Gentles and Ladies of the greatest note.” There is a tone of patronage in this last remark which is rather irritating. “Some used to make their heyre yellow with the floure of this herbe,” says Turner, and severely censures the impiousness of such an act. A hundred years ago, according to Abercromby, the flowers were chiefly used to flavour broth and to adulterate Saffron, but they must be even less employed now than then.

Dr Fernie says that the flowers of Marigold were much used by American surgeons during the Civil War, in treating wounds, and with admirable results. “_Calendula_ owes its introduction and first use altogether to homœopathic practice, as signally valuable for healing wounds, ulcers, burns, and other breaches of the skin surface.” Personal experience leads me to suggest that it is an excellent household remedy.

THE CORN MARIGOLD (_Chrysanthemum segetum_) used to be called Guildes, and it was once so rampant that a law was passed by the Scottish Parliament to fine negligent farmers who allowed it to overrun their lands. Hence the old Scots saying--

The Gordon, the Guild, and the Watercraw
Are the three worst ills the Moray ever saw.

[45] Ingram, “Flora Symbolica.”

[46] Folkard.

PENNYROYAL (_Mentha pulegium_).

Peniriall is to print your love,
So deep within my heart,
That when you look this nosegay on
My pain you may impart,
And when that you have read the same,
Consider wel my woe.
Think ye then how to recompense
Even him that loves you so.
A Handful of Pleasant Delites.

C. ROBINSON.

Then balm and mint helps to make up
My chapter, and for trial,
Costmary, that so likes the cup,
And next it, pennyroyal.

_Muses’ Elysium._

Lavender, Corn-rose, Pennyroyal sate,
And that which cats[47] esteem so delicate
After a while slow-pac’d with much ado,
Ground pine, with her short legs, crept hither too.

_Of Plants_, book ii.--COWLEY.

In France, Italy, and Spain, the children make a _crêche de noël_ at Christmas time; that is, they make a shed with stones and moss, and surround it with evergreens powdered with flour and cotton-wool, to make a little landscape. In and about this shed are placed the _gens de la crêche_; little earthen figures representing the Holy Family, and the Three Kings with their camels, and the Shepherds with their flocks, the sheep being disposed among the miniature rocks and bushes. On Christmas eve, or else sometimes on Twelfth Night, I think, these are saluted with the music of pipes and carol singing. De Gubernatis says that the children of Sicily always put pennyroyal amongst the green things in their _crêches_, and believe that exactly at midnight it bursts into flower for Christmas Day.

Other names for it are Pulioll Royal and Pudding-grasse, “and in the west parts, as about _Exeter_, Organs.” It is still called organs in the “West parts,” and organ-tea used to be a favourite drink to take out to the harvesters. In Italy pennyroyal is a protection against the Evil Eye, and in Sicily, they tie it to the branches of the fig-tree, thinking that this will prevent the figs falling before they are ripe. It is there also offered to husbands and wives who are in the habit of “falling out” with each other. “The Ancients said that it causeth Sheepe and Goates to bleate when they are eating of it.” To produce all those wonderful effects, it must have a great deal of magic about it. Gerarde says it grows “in the Common neare London, called Miles End, about the holes and ponds thereof in sundry places, from whence poore women bring plentie to sell in London markets.” Would that it could be found at “Miles End” now! He gives in passing a sidelight on the comfort in travelling, in the good old days: “If you have when you are at the sea Penny Royal in great quantitie, drie and cast it into corrupt water, it helpeth it much, neither will it hurt them that drinke thereof.” This inevitable state of things, in making a voyage, is faced with philosophic calm. “A Garland of Pennie Royal made and worne on the head is good against headache and giddiness.”

[47] Cat-mint.

PURSLANE (_Portulaca_).

The worts, the purslane and the mess
Of water-cress.

_Thanksgiving._--HERRICK.

De la Quintinye thought Purslane “one of the prettiest _plants_ in a _kitchen-garden_, the _red_ or _golden_ being the most agreeable to the eye and the more delicate and difficult to raise than the green. The thick stalks of Purslain that is to run to seed, are good to pickle in Salt and Vinegar for Winter Sallads.” I do not agree with him; the leaves are pretty enough, but thick, fleshy, and of no special charm. The graceful Coriander or the lace-like leaves of Sweet Cicely are far more to be admired. But even Purslane, which looks quite prosaic, was mixed up with magic long ago, for strewn about a bed, it used[48] “in olden times to be considered a protection against evil spirits.” Among a vast number of diseases, for all of which it is highly recommended, “blastings by lightening, or planets, and for burning of gunpowder” are named and Turner says, “It helpeth the teeth when they are an edged,” so it had many uses!

Evelyn finds that “familiarly eaten alone with Oyl and Vinegar,” moderation should be used, but remarks that it is eminently moist and cooling “especially the golden,” and is “generally entertained in all our sallets. Some eate of it cold, after it has been boiled, which Dr Muffit would have in wine for nourishment.” Not a tempting dish, by the sound of it! The Purslanes are found from the Cape of Good Hope and South America to the “frozen regions of the North.” The root of one variety _Leuisia redeviva_, called Tobacco root (because it has the smell of tobacco when cooked), has great nutritive qualities. It is a native of North America, and is boiled and eaten by the Indians, and on long journeys it is of special use, “two or three ounces a day being quite sufficient for a man, even while undergoing great fatigue.” (Hogg.)

[48] Folkard.

RAM-CICHES (_Cicer Arietinum_).