Chapter X: Part I: The Plant-Lore of Shakespeare (7)

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."

Book ii, song 3.

FOOTNOTES:

[202:1] The original meaning of Peascod is a bag of peas. Cod is bag as Matt. x. 10--"ne codd, ne hlaf, ne feo on heora gyrdlum--'not a bag, not a loaf, not (fee) money in their girdles.'"--COCKAYNE, _Spoon and Sparrow_, p. 518.

PEONY, _see_ PIONY.

PEPPER.

(1) _Hotspur._

Such protest of Pepper-gingerbread.

_1st Henry IV_, act iii, sc. 1 (260).
(_See_ GINGER, 9.)

(2) _Falstaff._

An I have not forgotten what the inside of a church is made
of, I am a Pepper-corn, a brewer's horse.

_Ibid._, act iii, sc. 3 (8).

(3) _Poins._

Pray God, you have not murdered some of them.

_Falstaff._

Nay, that's past praying for, for I have Peppered two of them.

_Ibid._, act ii, sc. 4 (210).

(4) _Falstaff._

I have led my ragamuffins, where they are Peppered.

_Ibid._, act v, sc. 3 (36).

(5) _Mercutio._

I am Peppered, I warrant, for this world.

_Romeo and Juliet_, act iii, sc. 1 (102).

(6) _Ford._

He cannot 'scape me, 'tis impossible he should; he cannot
creep into a halfpenny purse or into a Pepper-box.

_Merry Wives_, act iii, sc. 5 (147).

(7) _Sir Andrew._