Chapter IV: Part I: The Plant-Lore of Shakespeare (1)

_Perdita._ Here's flowers for you.

_Winter's Tale_, act iv, sc. 4.

_Duke._ Away before me to sweet beds of flowers.

_Twelfth Night_, act i, sc. 1.

ACONITUM.

_K. Henry._

The united vessel of their blood,
Mingled with venom of suggestion--
As, force perforce, the age will pour it in--
Shall never leak, though it do work as strong
As Aconitum or rash gunpowder.

_2nd King Henry IV_, act iv, sc. 4 (44).

There is another place in which it is probable that Shakespeare alludes to the Aconite; he does not name it, but he compares the effects of the poison to gunpowder, as in the passage above.

_Romeo._

Let me have
A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear
As will disperse itself through all the veins,
That the life-weary taker may fall dead
And that the trunk may be discharged of breath
As violently as hasty powder fired
Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.

_Romeo and Juliet_, act v, sc. 1 (59).

The plant here named as being as powerful in its action as gunpowder is the Aconitum Napellus (the Wolf's bane or Monk's-hood). It is a member of a large family, all of which are more or less poisonous, and the common Monk's-hood as much so as any. Two species are found in America, but, for the most part, the family is confined to the northern portion of the Eastern Hemisphere, ranging from the Himalaya through Europe to Great Britain. It is now found wild in a few parts of England, but it is certainly not indigenous; it was, however, very early introduced into England, being found in all the English vocabularies of plants from the tenth century downwards, and frequently mentioned in the early English medical recipes.

Its names are all interesting. In the Anglo-Saxon Vocabularies it is called _thung_, which, however, seems to have been a general name for any very poisonous plant;[10:1] it was then called Aconite, as the English form of its Greek and Latin name, but this name is now seldom used, being, by a curious perversion, solely given to the pretty little early-flowering Winter Aconite (_Eranthis hyemalis_), which is not a true Aconite, though closely allied; it then got the name of Wolf's-bane, as the direct translation of the Greek _lycoctonum_, a name which it had from the idea that arrows tipped with the juice, or baits anointed with it, would kill wolves and other vermin; and, lastly, it got the expressive names of Monk's-hood[10:2] and the Helmet-flower, from the curious shape of the upper sepal overtopping the rest of the flower.

As to its poisonous qualities, all authors agree that every species of the family is very poisonous, the A. ferox of the Himalaya being probably the most so. Every part of the plant, from the root to the pollen dust, seems to be equally powerful, and it has the special bad quality of being, to inexperienced eyes, so like some harmless plant, that the poison has been often taken by mistake with deadly results. This charge against the plant is of long standing, dating certainly from the time of Virgil--_miseros fallunt aconita legentes_--and, no doubt, from much before his time. As it was a common belief that poisons were antidotes against other poisons, the Aconite was supposed to be an antidote against the most deadly one--

"I have heard that Aconite
Being timely taken hath a healing might
Against the scorpion's stroke."

BEN JONSON, _Sejanus_, act iii, sc. 3.

Yet, in spite of its poisonous qualities, the plant has always held, and deservedly, a place among the ornamental plants of our gardens; its stately habit and its handsome leaves and flowers make it a favourite. Nearly all the species are worth growing, the best, perhaps, being A. Napellus, both white and blue, A. paniculatum, A. japonicum, and A. autumnale. All the species grow well in shade and under trees. In Shakespeare's time Gerard grew in his London garden four species--A. lycoctonum, A. variegatum, A. Napellus, and A. Pyrenaicum.

FOOTNOTES:

[10:1] "_Aconita_, thung." Ælfric's "Vocabulary," 10th century.

"_Aconitum_, thung." Anglo-Saxon Vocabulary, 11th century.

"_Aconita_, thung." "Durham Glossary of the names of Worts," 11th century.

The ancient Vocabularies and Glossaries, to which I shall frequently refer, are printed in

I. Wright's "Volume of Vocabularies," 1857.

II. "Leechdoms, Wortcunning, and Starcraft of Early England," by Rev. O. Cockayne, published under the direction of the Master of the Rolls, 3 vols., 1866.

III. "Promptorium Parvulorum," edited by Albert Way, and published by the Camden Society, 3 vols., 1843-65.

IV. "Catholicon Anglicum," edited by S. J. Hertage, and published by the Early English Text Society, 1881, and by the Camden Society, 1882.

[10:2] This was certainly its name in Shakespeare's time--

"And with the Flower Monk's-hood makes a coole."

CUTWODE, _Caltha Poetarum_, 1599 (st. 117).

ACORN, _see_ OAK.

ALMOND.

_Thersites._

The parrot will not do more for an Almond.

_Troilus and Cressida_, act v, sc. 2 (193).

"An Almond for a parrot" seems to have been a proverb for the greatest temptation that could be put before a man. The Almond tree is a native of Asia and North Africa, but it was very early introduced into England, probably by the Romans. It occurs in the Anglo-Saxon lists of plants, and in the "Durham Glossary" (11th century) it has the name of the "Easterne nutte-beam." The tree was always a favourite both for the beauty of its flowers, which come very early in the year, and for its Biblical associations, so that in Shakespeare's time the trees were "in our London gardens and orchards in great plenty" (Gerard). Before Shakespeare's time, Spenser had sung its praises thus--

"Like to an Almond tree ymounted hye
On top of greene Selinis all alone
With blossoms brave bedecked daintily;
Whose tender locks do tremble every one
At everie little breath that under Heaven is blowne."

_F. Q._, i. 7, 32.

The older English name seems to have been Almande--

"And Almandres gret plente,"

_Romaunt of the Rose_;

"Noyz de l'almande, nux Phyllidis,"

ALEXANDER NECKAM;

and both this old name and its more modern form of Almond came to us through the French _amande_ (Provençal, _amondala_), from the Greek and Latin _amygdalus_. What this word meant is not very clear, but the native Hebrew name of the plant (_shaked_) is most expressive. The word signifies "awakening," and so is a most fitting name for a tree whose beautiful flowers, appearing in Palestine in January, show the wakening up of Creation. The fruit also has always been a special favourite, and though it is strongly imbued with prussic acid, it is considered a wholesome fruit. By the old writers many wonderful virtues were attributed to the fruit, but I am afraid it was chiefly valued for its supposed virtue, that "five or six being taken fasting do keepe a man from being drunke" (Gerard).[12:1] This popular error is not yet extinct.

As an ornamental tree the Almond should be in every shrubbery, and, as in Gerard's time, it may still be planted in town gardens with advantage. There are several varieties of the common Almond, differing slightly in the colour and size of the flowers; and there is one little shrub (Amygdalus nana) of the family that is very pretty in the front row of a shrubbery. All the species are deciduous.

FOOTNOTES:

[12:1] "Plutarch mentions a great drinker of wine who, by the use of bitter almonds, used to escape being intoxicated."--_Flora Domestica_, p. 6.

ALOES.

And sweetens, in the suffering pangs it bears,
The Aloes of all forces, shocks, and fears.

_A Lover's Complaint_, st. 39.

Aloes have the peculiarity that they are the emblems of the most intense bitterness and of the richest and most costly fragrance. In the Bible Aloes are mentioned five times, and always with reference to their excellence and costliness.[13:1] Juvenal speaks of it only as a bitter--

"Animo corrupta superbo
Plus Aloes quam mellis habet" (vi. 180).

Pliny describes it very minutely, and says, "Strong it is to smell unto, and bitter to taste" (xxvii. 4, Holland's translation). Our old English writers spoke of it under both aspects. It occurs in several recipes of the Anglo-Saxon Leechdoms, as a strong and bitter purgative. Chaucer notices its bitterness only--

"The woful teres that they leten falle
As bittre weren, out of teres kynde,
For peyne, as is ligne Aloes or galle."

_Troilus and Cryseide_, st. 159.

But the author of the "Remedie of Love," formerly attributed to Chaucer, says--

"My chambre is strowed with myrrhe and incense
With sote savouring Aloes and sinnamone,
Breathing an aromaticke redolence."

Shakespeare only mentions the bitter quality.

The two qualities are derived from two very different plants. The fragrant ointment is the product of an Indian shrub, Aquilaria agallochum; and the bitter purgative is from the true Aloes, A. Socotrina, A. vulgaris, and others. These plants were well known in Shakespeare's time, and were grown in England. Turner and Gerard describe them as the Sea Houseleek; and Gerard tells us that they were grown as vegetable curiosities, for "the herbe is alwaies greene, and likewise sendeth forth branches, though it remaine out of the earth, especially if the root be covered with lome, and now and then watered; for so being hanged on the seelings and upper posts of dining-roomes, it will not onely continue a long time greene, but it also groweth and bringeth forth new leaves."[14:1]

FOOTNOTES:

[13:1] Numbers xxiv. 6; Psalms xlv. 8; Proverbs vii. 17; Canticles iv. 14; John xix. 39.

[14:1] In the emblems of Camerarius (No. 92) is a picture of a room with an Aloe suspended.

ANEMONE.

By this, the boy that by her side lay kill'd
Was melted like a vapour from her sight,
And in his blood that on the ground lay spill'd,
A purple flower sprung up chequer'd with white.
Resembling well his pale cheeks, and the blood
Which in round drops upon their whiteness stood.

_Venus and Adonis_ (1165).

Shakespeare does not actually name the Anemone, and I place this passage under that name with some doubt, but I do not know any other flower to which he could be referring.

The original legend of the Anemone as given by Bion was that it sprung from the tears of Venus, while the Rose sprung from Adonis' blood--

+aima rodon tiktei, ta de dakrya tan anemônan.+

_Bion Idyll_, i, 66.

"Wide as her lover's torrent blood appears
So copious flowed the fountain of her tears;
The Rose starts blushing from the sanguine dyes,
And from her tears Anemones arise."

POLWHELE'S _Translation_, 1786.

But this legend was not followed by the other classical writers, who made the Anemone to be the flower of Adonis. Theocritus compares the Dog-rose (so called also in his day, +kynosbatos+) and the Anemone with the Rose, and the Scholia comment on the passage thus--"Anemone, a scentless flower, which they report to have sprung from the blood of Adonis; and again Nicander says that the Anemone sprung from the blood of Adonis."

The storehouse of our ancestors' pagan mythology was in Ovid, and his well-known lines are--

"Cum flos e sanguine concolor ortus
Qualem, quæ; lento celant sub cortice granum
Punica ferre solent; brevis est tamen usus in illis,
Namque male hærentem, et nimiâ brevitate caducum
Excutiunt idem qui præstant nomina, venti,"--

Thus translated by Golding in 1567, from whom it is very probable that Shakespeare obtained his information--

"Of all one colour with the bloud, a flower she there did find,
Even like the flower of that same tree, whose fruit in tender rind
Have pleasant graines enclosede--howbeit the use of them is short,
For why, the leaves do hang so loose through lightnesse in such
sort,
As that the windes that all things pierce[15:1] with everie little
blast
Do shake them off and shed them so as long they cannot last."[15:2]

I feel sure that Shakespeare had some particular flower in view. Spenser only speaks of it as a flower, and gives no description--

"In which with cunning hand was pourtrahed
The love of Venus and her Paramoure,
The fayre Adonis, turned to a flowre."

_F. Q._, iii, 1, 34.

"When she saw no help might him restore
Him to a dainty flowre she did transmew."

_F. Q._, iii, 1, 38.

Ben Jonson similarly speaks of it as "Adonis' flower" (Pan's Anniversary), but with Shakespeare it is different; he describes the flower minutely, and as if it were a well-known flower, "purple chequered with white," and considering that in his day Anemone was supposed to be Adonis' flower (as it was described in 1647 by Alexander Ross in his "Mystagogus Poeticus," who says that Adonis "was by Venus turned into a red flower called Anemone"), and as I wish, if possible, to link the description to some special flower, I conclude that the evidence is in favour of the Anemone. Gerard's Anemone was certainly the same as ours, and the "purple" colour is no objection, for "purple" in Shakespeare's time had a very wide signification, meaning almost any bright colour, just as _purpureus_ had in Latin,[16:1] which had so wide a range that it was used on the one hand as the epithet of the blood and the poppy, and on the other as the epithet of the swan ("purpureis ales oloribus," Horace) and of a woman's white arms ("brachia purpurea candidiora nive," Albinovanus). Nor was "chequered" confined to square divisions, as it usually is now, but included spots of any size or shape.

We have transferred the Greek name of Anemone to the English language, and we have further kept the Greek idea in the English form of "wind-flower." The name is explained by Pliny: "The flower hath the propertie to open but when the wind doth blow, wherefore it took the name Anemone in Greeke" ("Nat. Hist." xxi. 11, Holland's translation). This, however, is not the character of the Anemone as grown in English gardens; and so it is probable that the name has been transferred to a different plant than the classical one, and I think no suggestion more probable than Dr. Prior's that the classical Anemone was the Cistus, a shrub that is very abundant in the South of Europe; that certainly opens its flowers at other times than when the wind blows, and so will not well answer to Pliny's description, but of which the flowers are bright-coloured and most fugacious, and so will answer to Ovid's description. This fugacious character of the Anemone is perpetuated in Sir William Jones' lines ("Poet. Works," i, 254, ed. 1810)--

"Youth, like a thin Anemone, displays
His silken leaf, and in a morn decays;"

but the lines, though classical, are not true of the Anemone, though they would well apply to the Cistus.[17:1]

Our English Anemones belong to a large family inhabiting cold and temperate regions, and numbering seventy species, of which three are British.[17:2] These are A. Nemorosa, the common wood Anemone, the brightest spring ornament of our woods; A. Apennina, abundant in the South of Europe, and a doubtful British plant; and A. pulsatilla, the Passe, or Pasque flower, _i.e._, the flower of Easter, one of the most beautiful of our British flowers, but only to be found on the chalk formation.

FOOTNOTES:

[15:1] Golding evidently adopted the reading "qui perflant omnia," instead of the reading now generally received, "qui præstant nomina."

[15:2] Gerard thought that Ovid's Anemone was the Venice Mallow--_Hibiscus trionum_--a handsome annual from the South of Europe.

[16:1] In the "Nineteenth Century" for October, 1877, is an interesting article by Mr. Gladstone on the "colour-sense" in Homer, proving that Homer, and all nations in the earlier stages of their existence, have a very limited perception of colour, and a very limited and loosely applied nomenclature of colours. The same remark would certainly apply to the early English writers, not excluding Shakespeare.

[17:1] Mr. Leo Grindon also identifies the classical Anemone with the Cistus. See a good account of it in "Gardener's Chronicle," June 3, 1876.

[17:2] The small yellow A. ranunculoides has been sometimes included among the British Anemones, but is now excluded. It is a rare plant, and an alien.

APPLE.

(1) _Sebastian._

I think he will carry this island home and give it his son for
an Apple.

_Tempest_, act ii, sc. 1 (91).

(2) _Malvolio._

Not yet old enough for 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).

(3) _Antonio._

An Apple, cleft in two, is not more twin
Than these two creatures.

_Ibid._, act 5, sc. 1 (230).

(4) _Antonio._

An evil soul producing holy witness
Is like a villain with a smiling cheek,
A goodly Apple rotten at the heart.

_Merchant of Venice_, act i, sc. 3 (100).

(5) _Tranio._

He in countenance somewhat doth resemble you.

_Biondello._

As much as an Apple doth an oyster, and all one.

_Taming of the Shrew_, act iv, sc. 2 (100).

(6) _Orleans._

Foolish curs, that run winking into the mouth of a Russian
bear, and have their heads crushed like rotten Apples.

_Henry V_, act iii, sc. 7 (153).

(7) _Hortensio._

Faith, as you say, there's small choice in rotten Apples.

_Taming of the Shrew_, act i, sc. 1 (138).

(8) _Porter._

These are the youths that thunder at a playhouse, and fight
for bitten Apples.

_Henry VIII_, act v, sc. 4 (63).

(9) _Song of Winter._

When roasted Crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl.

_Love's Labour's Lost_, act v, sc. 2 (935).

(10) _Puck._

And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl
In very likeness of a roasted Crab;
And when she drinks, against her lips I bob,
And on her wither'd dewlap pour the ale.

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

(11) _Fool._

Shal't see thy other daughter will use thee kindly; for though
she's as like this as a Crab's like an Apple, yet I can tell
what I can tell.

_Lear._

Why, what can'st thou tell, my boy?

_Fool._

She will taste as like this as a Crab does to a Crab.

_King Lear_, act i, sc. 5 (14).

(12) _Caliban._

I prithee, let me bring thee where Crabs grow.

_Tempest_, act ii, sc. 2 (171).

(13) _Petruchio._

Nay, come, Kate, come, you must not look so sour.

_Katherine._

It is my fashion, when I see a Crab.

_Petruchio._

Why, here's no Crab, and therefore look not sour.

_Taming of the Shrew_, act ii, sc. 1 (229).

(14) _Menonius._

We have some old Crab-trees here at home that will not
Be grafted to your relish.

_Coriolanus_, act ii, sc. 1 (205).

(15) _Suffolk._

Noble stock
Was graft with Crab-tree slip.

_2nd Henry VI_, act iii, sc. 2 (213).

(16) _Porter._

Fetch me a dozen Crab-tree staves, and strong ones.

_Henry VIII_, act v, sc. 4 (7).

(17) _Falstaff._

My skin hangs about me like an old lady's loose gown; I am
withered like an old Apple-john.

_1st Henry IV_, act iii, sc. 3 (3).

(18) _1st Drawer._

What the devil hast thou brought there? Apple-johns? Thou
knowest Sir John cannot endure an Apple-john.

_2nd Drawer._

Mass! thou sayest true; the prince once set a dish of
Apple-johns before him, and told him there were five more
Sir Johns; and putting off his hat, said, I will now take my
leave of these six dry, round, old, withered knights.

_2nd Henry IV_, act ii, sc. 4 (1).

(19) _Shallow._

Nay, you shall see my orchard, where, in an arbour, we will
eat a last year's Pippin of my own graffing, with a dish of
Caraways, and so forth.

* * * * *

_Davey._

There's a dish of Leather-coats for you.

_Ibid._, act v, sc. 3 (1, 44).

(20) _Evans._

I pray you be gone; I will make an end of my dinner. There's
Pippins and cheese to come.

_Merry Wives of Windsor_, act i, sc. 2 (11).

(21) _Holofernes._

The deer was, as you know, _sanguis_, in blood; ripe as the
Pomewater, who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of
_coelo_--the sky, the welkin, the heaven; and anon falleth
like a Crab on the face of _terra_--the soil, the land, the
earth.

_Love's Labour's Lost_, act iv, sc. 2 (3).

(22) _Mercutio._

Thy wit is a very Bitter Sweeting; it is a most sharp sauce.

_Romeo._

And is it not well served in to a sweet goose?

_Romeo and Juliet_, act ii, sc. 4 (83).

(23) _Petruchio._

What's this? A sleeve? 'Tis like a demi-cannon.
What! up and down, carved like an Apple-tart?

_Taming of the Shrew_, act iv, sc. 3 (88).

(24)

How like Eve's Apple doth thy beauty grow,
If thy sweet virtue answer not thy show!

_Sonnet_ xciii.

Here Shakespeare names the Apple, the Crab, the Pippin, the Pomewater, the Apple-john, the Codling, the Caraway, the Leathercoat, and the Bitter-Sweeting. Of the Apple generally I need say nothing, except to notice that the name was not originally confined to the fruit now so called, but was a generic name applied to any fruit, as we still speak of the Love-apple, the Pine-apple,[20:1] &c. The Anglo-Saxon name for the Blackberry was the Bramble-apple; and Sir John Mandeville, in describing the Cedars of Lebanon, says: "And upon the hills growen Trees of Cedre, that ben fulle hye, and they beren longe Apples, and als grete as a man's heved"[20:2] (cap. ix.). In the English Bible it is the same. The Apple is mentioned in a few places, but it is almost certain that it never means the Pyrus malus, but is either the Orange, Citron, or Quince, or is a general name for a tree fruit. So that when Shakespeare (24) and the other old writers speak of Eve's Apple, they do not necessarily assert that the fruit of the temptation was our Apple, but simply that it was some fruit that grew in Eden. The Apple (_pomum_) has left its mark in the language in the word "pomatum," which, originally an ointment made of Apples, is now an ointment in which Apples have no part.

The Crab was held in far more esteem in the sixteenth century than it is with us. The roasted fruit served with hot ale (9 and 10) was a favourite Christmas dish, and even without ale the roasted Crab was a favourite, and this not for want of better fruit, for Gerard tells us that in his time "the stocke or kindred of Apples was infinite," but because they were considered pleasant food.[20:3] Another curious use of Crabs is told in the description of Crab-wake, or "Crabbing the Parson," at Halesowen, Salop, on St. Kenelm's Day (July 17), in Brand's "Popular Antiquities" (vol. i. p. 342, Bohn's edition). Nor may we now despise the Crab tree, though we do not eat its fruit. Among our native trees there is none more beautiful than the Crab tree, both in flower and in fruit. An old Crab tree in full flower is a sight that will delight any artist, nor is it altogether useless; its wood is very hard and very lasting, and from its fruit verjuice is made, not, however, much in England, as I believe nearly all the verjuice now used is made in France.

The Pippin, from being originally a general name for any Apple raised from pips and not from grafts, is now, and probably was in Shakespeare's time, confined to the bright-coloured, long-keeping Apples (Justice Shallow's was "last year's Pippin"), of which the Golden Pippin ("the Pippin burnished o'er with gold," Phillips) is the type.

The Bitter-Sweeting (22) was an old and apparently a favourite Apple. It is frequently mentioned in the old writers, as by Gower, "Conf. Aman." viii. 174--

"For all such time of love is lore,
And like unto the Bitter-swete,[21:1]
For though it think a man fyrst swete
He shall well felen at laste
That it is sower."

By Chaucer--

"Yet of that art they conne nought wexe sadde,
For unto hem it is a Bitter Swete."

_Prologue of the Chanoune's Yeman._

And by Ben Jonson--

"That love's a Bitter-sweet I ne'er conceive
Till the sour minute comes of taking leave,
And then I taste it."[21:2]

_Underwoods._

Parkinson names it in his list of Apples, but soon dismisses it--"Twenty sorts of Sweetings, and none good." The name is now given to an Apple of no great value as a table fruit, but good as a cider apple, and for use in silk dyeing.

It is not easy to identify the Pomewater (21). It was highly esteemed both by Shakespeare ("it hangeth like a jewel in the ear of _coelo_") and many other writers. In Gerard's figure it looks like a Codling, and its Latin name is _Malus carbonaria_, which probably refers to its good qualities as a roasting Apple. The name Pomewater (or Water Apple) makes us expect a juicy but not a rich Apple, and with this agrees Parkinson's description: "The Pomewater is an excellent, good, and great whitish Apple, full of sap or moisture, somewhat pleasant sharp, but a little bitter withall; it will not last long, the winter frosts soon causing it to rot and perish." It must have been very like the modern Lord Suffield Apple, and though Parkinson says it will not last long, yet it is mentioned as lasting till the New Year in a tract entitled "Vox Graculi," 1623. Speaking of New Year's Day, the author says: "This day shall be given many more gifts than shall be asked for; and apples, egges, and oranges shall be lifted to a lofty rate; when a Pomewater bestuck with a few rotten cloves shall be worth more than the honesty of a hypocrite" (quoted by Brand, vol. i. 17, Bohn's edition).

We have no such difficulty with the "dish of Apple-johns" (17 and 18). Hakluyt recommends "the Apple John that dureth two years to make show of our fruit" to be carried by voyagers.[22:1] "The Deusan (_deux ans_) or Apple-john," says Parkinson, "is a delicate fine fruit, well rellished when it beginneth to be fit to be eaten, and endureth good longer than any other Apple." With this description there is no difficulty in identifying the Apple-john with an Apple that goes under many names, and is figured by Maund as the Easter Pippin. When first picked it is of a deep green colour, and very hard. In this state it remains all the winter, and in April or May it becomes yellow and highly perfumed, and remains good either for cooking or dessert for many months.

The Codling (2) is not the Apple now so called, but is the general name of a young unripe Apple.

The "Leathercoats" (19) are the Brown Russets; and though the "dish of Caraways" in the same passage may refer to the Caraway or Caraway-russet Apple, an excellent little apple, that seems to be a variety of the Nonpareil, and has long been cultivated in England, yet it is almost certain that it means a dish of Caraway Seeds. (_See_ CARRAWAYS.)

FOOTNOTES:

[20:1] See PINE, p. 208.

[20:2] "A peche appulle." "The appulys of a peche tre."--_Porkington MSS. in Early English Miscellany._ (Published by Warton Club.)

[20:3] "As for Wildings and Crabs . . . their tast is well enough liked, and they carrie with them a quicke and a sharp smell; howbeit this gift they have for their harsh sournesse, that they have many a foule word and shrewd curse given them."--PHILEMON HOLLAND'S _Pliny_, book xv. c. 14.

[21:1] "Amor et melle et felle est fecundissimus."--PLAUTUS.

[21:2] Juliet describes leave-taking in almost the same words--"Parting is such _sweet sorrow_."

[22:1] "Voyages," 1580, p. 466.

APRICOTS.

(1) _Titania._

Be kind and courteous to this gentleman;
Hop in his walks, and gambol in his eyes;
Feed him with Apricocks and Dewberries,
With purple Grapes, green Figs, and Mulberries.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act iii, sc. 1 (167).

(2) _Gardener._

Go, bind thou up yon dangling Apricocks,
Which, like unruly children, make their sire
Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight.

_Richard II_, act iii, sc. 4 (29).

(3) _Palamon._

Would I were,
For all the fortunes of my life hereafter,
Yon little tree, yon blooming Apricocke;
How I would spread and fling my wanton armes
In at her window! I would bring her fruit
Fit for the gods to feed on.

_Two Noble Kinsmen_, act ii, sc. 2 (291).

Shakespeare's spelling of the word "Apricocks" takes us at once to its derivation. It is derived undoubtedly from the Latin _præcox or præcoquus_, under which name it is referred to by Pliny and Martial; but, before it became the English Apricot it was much changed by Italians, Spaniards, French, and Arabians. The history of the name is very curious and interesting, but too long to give fully here; a very good account of it may be found in Miller and in "Notes and Queries," vol. ii. p. 420 (1850). It will be sufficient to say here that it acquired its name of "the precocious tree," because it flowered and fruited earlier than the Peach, as explained in Lyte's "Herbal," 1578: "There be two kinds of Peaches, whereof the one kinde is late ripe, . . . the other kinds are soner ripe, wherefore they be called Abrecox or Aprecox." Of its introduction into England we have no very certain account. It was certainly grown in England before Turner's time (1548), though he says, "We have very few of these trees as yet;"[23:1] but the only account of its introduction is by Hakluyt, who states that it was brought from Italy by one Wolf, gardener to King Henry the Eighth. If that be its true history, Shakespeare was in error in putting it into the garden of the queen of Richard the Second, nearly a hundred years before its introduction.[24:1]

In Shakespeare's time the Apricot seems to have been grown as a standard; I gather this from the description in Nos. 2 (see the entire passage s.v. "Pruning" in Part II.) and 3, and from the following in Browne's "Britannia's Pastorals"--

"Or if from where he is[24:2] he do espy
Some Apricot upon a bough thereby
Which overhangs the tree on which he stands,
Climbs up, and strives to take them with his hands."

Book ii. Song 4.

FOOTNOTES:

[23:1] "Names of Herbes," s.v. Malus Armeniaca.

[24:1] The Apricot has usually been supposed to have come from Armenia, but there is now little doubt that its original country is the Himalaya (M. Lavaillee).

[24:2] On a Cherry tree in an orchard.

ASH.

_Aufidius._

Let me twine
Mine arms about that body, where against
My grained Ash an hundred times hath broke,
And starr'd the moon with splinters.

_Coriolanus_, act iv, sc. 5 (112).

Warwickshire is more celebrated for its Oaks and Elms than for its Ash trees. Yet considering how common a tree the Ash is, and in what high estimation it was held by our ancestors, it is strange that it is only mentioned in this one passage. Spenser spoke of it as "the Ash for nothing ill;" it was "the husbandman's tree," from which he got the wood for his agricultural implements; and there was connected with it a great amount of mystic folk-lore, which was carried to its extreme limit in the Yggdrasil, or legendary Ash of Scandinavia, which was almost looked upon as the parent of Creation: a full account of this may be found in Mallet's "Northern Antiquities" and other works on Scandinavia. It is an English native tree,[24:3] and it adds much to the beauty of any English landscape in which it is allowed to grow. It gives its name to many places, especially in the South, as Ashdown, Ashstead, Ashford, &c.; but to see it in its full beauty it must be seen in our northern counties, though the finest in England is said to be at Woburn.

"The Oak, the Ash, and the Ivy tree,
O, they flourished best at hame, in the north countrie."

_Old Ballad._

In the dales of Yorkshire it is especially beautiful, and any one who sees the fine old trees in Wharfdale and Wensleydale will confess that, though it may not have the rich luxuriance of the Oaks and Elms of the southern and midland counties, yet it has a grace and beauty that are all its own, so that we scarcely wonder that Gilpin called it "the Venus of the woods."

FOOTNOTES:

[24:3] It is called in the "Promptorium Parvulorum" "Esche," and the seed vessels "Esche key."

ASPEN.

(1) _Marcus._

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

_Titus Andronicus_, act 2, sc. 4 (44).

(2) _Hostess._

Feel, masters, how I shake. . . . . Yea, in very truth do I an
'twere an Aspen leaf.

_2nd Henry IV_, act ii, sc. 4 (114).

The Aspen or Aspe[25:1] (_Populus tremula_) is one of our three native Poplars, and has ever been the emblem of enforced restlessness, on account of which it had in Anglo-Saxon times the expressive name of quick-beam. How this perpetual motion in the "light quivering Aspen" is produced has not been quite satisfactorily explained; and the mediæval legend that it supplied the wood of the Cross, and has never since ceased to tremble, is still told as a sufficient reason both in Scotland and England.

"Oh! a cause more deep,
More solemn far the rustic doth assign,
To the strange restlessness of those wan leaves;
The cross, he deems, the blessed cross, whereon
The meek Redeemer bowed His head to death,
Was formed of Aspen wood; and since that hour
Through all its race the pale tree hath sent down
A thrilling consciousness, a secret awe,
Making them tremulous, when not a breeze
Disturbs the airy thistle-down, or shakes
The light lines of the shining gossamer."

MRS. HEMANS.

The Aspen has an interesting botanical history, as being undoubtedly, like the Scotch fir, one of the primæval trees of Europe; while its grey bark and leaves and its pleasant rustling sound make the tree acceptable in our hedgerows, but otherwise it is not a tree of much use. In Spenser's time it was considered "good for staves;" and before his time the tree must have been more valued than it is now, for in the reign of Henry V. an Act of Parliament was passed (4 Henry V. c. 3) to prevent the consumption of Aspe, otherwise than for the making of arrows, with a penalty of an Hundred Shillings if used for making pattens or clogs. This Act remained in force till the reign of James I., when it was repealed. In our own time the wood is valued for internal panelling of rooms, and is used in the manufacture of gunpowder.

By the older writers the Aspen was the favourite simile for female loquacity. The rude libel is given at full length in "The Schoole-house of Women" (511-545), concluding thus--

"The Aspin lefe hanging where it be,
With little winde or none it shaketh;
A woman's tung in like wise taketh
Little ease and little rest;
For if it should the hart would brest."

HAZLITT'S _Popular English Poetry_, vol. iv, p. 126.

And to the same effect Gerard concludes his account of the tree thus: "In English Aspe and Aspen tree, and may also be called Tremble, after the French name, considering it is the matter whereof women's tongues were made (as the poets and some others report), which seldom cease wagging."

FOOTNOTES:

[25:1] "Espe" in "Promptorium Parvulorum." "Aspen" is the case-ending of "Aspe."

BACHELOR'S BUTTON.

_Hostess._

What say you to young Master Fenton? he capers, he dances, he
has eyes of youth, he writes verses, he speaks holiday, he
smells April and May; he will carry't, he will carry't; 'tis
in his Buttons; he will carry't.

_Merry Wives_, act iii, sc. 2 (67).

"Though the Bachelor's Button is not exactly named by Shakespeare, it is believed to be alluded to in this passage; and the supposed allusion is to a rustic divination by means of the flowers, carried in the pocket by men and under the apron by women, as it was supposed to retain or lose its freshness according to the good or bad success of the bearer's amatory prospects."[27:1]

The true Bachelor's Button of the present day is the double Ranunculus acris, but the name is applied very loosely to almost any small double globular flowers. In Shakespeare's time it was probably applied still more loosely to any flowers in bud (according to the derivation from the French _bouton_). Button is frequently so applied by the old writers--

"The more desire had I to goo
Unto the roser where that grewe
The freshe Bothum so bright of hewe.

* * * * *

But o thing lyked me right welle;
I was so nygh, I myght fele
Of the Bothom the swote odour
And also see the fresshe colour;
And that right gretly liked me."

_Romaunt of the Rose._

And by Shakespeare--

The canker galls the infants of the Spring
Too oft before their Buttons be disclosed.

_Hamlet_, act i, sc. 3 (54).

FOOTNOTES:

[27:1] Mr. J. Fitchett Marsh, of Hardwicke House, Chepstow, in "The Garden." I have to thank Mr. Marsh for much information kindly given both in "The Garden" and by letter.

BALM, BALSAM, OR BALSAMUM.

(1) _K. Richard._

Not all the water in the rough rude sea
Can wash the Balm from an anointed king.

_Richard II_, act iii, sc. 2 (54).

(2) _K. Richard._

With mine own tears I wash away my Balm.

_Ibid._, act iv, sc. 1 (207).

(3) _K. Henry._

'Tis not the Balm, the sceptre, and the ball.

_Henry V_, act iv, sc. 1 (277).

(4) _K. Henry._

Thy place is fill'd, thy sceptre wrung from thee,
Thy Balm wash'd off, wherewith thou wast anointed.

_3rd Henry VI_, act iii, sc. 1 (16).

(5) _K. Henry._

My pity hath been Balm to heal their wounds.

_Ibid._, act iv, sc. 8 (41).

(6) _Lady Anne._

I pour the helpless Balm of my poor eyes.

_Richard III_, act i, sc. 2 (13).

(7) _Troilus._

But, saying thus, instead of oil and Balm,
Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me
The knife that made it.

_Troilus and Cressida_, act i, sc. 1 (61).

(8) _1st Senator._

We sent to thee, to give thy rages Balm.

_Timon of Athens_, act v, sc. 4 (16).

(9) _France._

Balm of your age,
Most best, most dearest.

_King Lear_, act i, sc. 1 (218).

(10) _K. Henry._

Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse
Be drops of Balm to sanctify thy head.

_2nd Henry IV_, act iv, sc. 5 (114).

(11) _Mowbray._

I am disgraced, impeach'd, and baffled here:
Pierced to the soul with slander's venom'd spear;
The which no Balm can cure, but his heart-blood
Which breathed this poison.

_Richard II_, act i, sc. 1 (170).

(12) _Dromio of Syracuse._

Our fraughtage, Sir,
I have conveyed aboard, and I have bought
The oil, the Balsamum, and aqua vitæ.

_Comedy of Errors_, act iv, sc. 1 (187).

(13) _Alcibiades._

Is this the Balsam that the usuring Senate
Pours into captains' wounds?

_Timon of Athens_, act iii, sc. 5 (110).

(14) _Macbeth._

Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care,
The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great Nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in life's feast.

_Macbeth_, act ii, sc. 2 (37).

(15) _Quickly._

The several chairs of order look you scour
With juice of Balm and every precious flower.

_Merry Wives_, act v, sc. 5 (65).

(16) _Cleopatra._

As sweet as Balm, as soft as air, as gentle.

_Antony and Cleopatra_, act v, sc. 2 (314).

(17)

And trembling in her passion, calls it Balm,
Earth's sovereign salve to do a goddess good.

_Venus and Adonis_ (27).

(18)

And drop sweet Balm in Priam's painted wound.

_Lucrece_ (1466).

(19)

With the drops of this most balmy time
My love looks fresh.

_Sonnet_ cvii.

In all these passages, except the two last, the reference is to the Balm or Balsam which was imported from the East, from very early times, and was highly valued for its curative properties. The origin of Balsam was for a long time a secret, but it is now known to have been the produce of several gum-bearing trees, especially the Pistacia lentiscus and the Balsamodendron Gileadense; and now, as then, the name is not strictly confined to the produce of any one plant. But in Nos. 15 and 16 the reference is no doubt to the Sweet Balm of the English gardens (_Melissa officinalis_), a plant highly prized by our ancestors for its medicinal qualities (now known to be of little value), and still valued for its pleasant scent and its high value as a bee plant, which is shown by its old Greek and Latin names, Melissa, Mellissophyllum, and Apiastrum. The Bastard Balm (_Melittis melissophyllum_) is a handsome native plant, found sparingly in Devonshire, Hampshire, and a few other places, and is well worth growing wherever it can be induced to grow; but it is a very capricious plant, and is apparently not fond of garden cultivation. "Très jolie plante, mais d'une culture difficile" (Vilmorin). It probably would thrive best in the shade, as it is found in copses.

BARLEY.

(1) _Iris._

Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas
Of Wheat, Rye, Barley, Vetches, Oats, and Pease.

_Tempest_, act iv, sc. 1 (60).

(2) _Constable._

Can sodden water,
A drench for surrein'd jades, their Barley broth,
Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat?

_Henry V_, act iii, sc. 5 (18).[30:1]

These two passages require little note. The Barley (_Hordeum vulgare_) of Shakespeare's time and our own is the same. We may note, however, that the Barley broth (2) of which the French Constable spoke so contemptuously as the food of English soldiers was probably beer, which long before the time of Henry V. was so celebrated that it gave its name to the plant (Barley being simply the Beer-plant), and in Shakespeare's time, "though strangers never heard of such a word or such a thing, by reason it is not everyewhere made," yet "our London Beere-Brewers would scorne to learne to make beere of either French or Dutch" (Gerard).

FOOTNOTES:

[30:1] "Vires ordea prestant."--_Modus Cenandi_, 176. ("Babee's Book.")

BARNACLES.

_Caliban._

We shall lose our time
And all be turn'd to Barnacles.

_Tempest_, act iv, sc. 1 (248).

It may seem absurd to include Barnacles among plants; but in the time of Shakespeare the Barnacle tree was firmly believed in, and Gerard gives a plate of "the Goose tree, Barnacle tree, or the tree bearing Geese," and says that he declares "what our eies have seene, and our hands have touched."

A full account of the fable will be found in Harting's "Ornithology of Shakespeare," p. 247, and an excellent account in Lee's "Sea Fables Explained" (Fisheries Exhibition handbooks), p. 98. But neither of these writers have quoted the testimony of Sir John Mandeville, which is, however, well worth notice. When he was told in "Caldilhe" of a tree that bore "a lytylle Best in Flessche in Bon and Blode as though it were a lytylle Lomb, withouten Wolle," he did not refuse to believe them, for he says, "I tolde hem of als gret a marveylle to hem that is amonges us; and that was of the Bernakes. For I tolde hem, that in our Contree weren Trees, that beren a Fruyt, that becomen Briddes fleeynge; and tho that fallen in the Water lyven, and thei that fallen on the Erthe dyen anon; and thei ben right gode to mannes mete. And here of had thei als gret marvaylle that sume of hem trowed, it were an impossible thing to be" ("Voiage and Travaille," c. xxvi.).

BAY TREES.

(1) _Captain._

'Tis thought the King is dead; we will not stay.
The Bay-trees in our country are all wither'd.

_Richard II_, act ii, sc. 4 (7).

(2) _Bawd._

Marry come up, my dish of chastity with Rosemary and Bays!

_Pericles_, act iv, sc. 6 (159).

(3)

_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 Palms in their hands.

_Henry VIII_, act iv, sc. 2

It is not easy to determine what tree is meant in these passages. In the first there is little doubt that Shakespeare copied from some Italian source the superstition that the Bay trees in a country withered and died when any great calamity was approaching. We have no proof that such an idea ever prevailed in England. In the second passage reference is made to the decking of the chief dish at high feasts with garlands of flowers and evergreens. But the Bay tree had been too recently introduced from the South of Europe in Shakespeare's time to be so used to any great extent, though the tree was known long before, for it is mentioned in the Anglo-Saxon Vocabularies by the name of Beay-beam, that is, the Coronet tree;[32:1] but whether the Beay-beam meant our Bay tree is very uncertain. We are not much helped in the inquiry by the notice of the "flourishing green Bay tree" in the Psalms, for it seems very certain that the Bay tree there mentioned is either the Oleander or the Cedar, certainly not the Laurus nobilis.

The true Bay is probably mentioned by Spenser in the following lines--

"The Bay, quoth she, is of the victours born,
Yielded them by the vanquisht as theyr meeds,
And they therewith doe Poetes heads adorne
To sing the glory of their famous deeds."

_Amoretti_--Sonnet xxix.

And in the following passage (written in the lifetime of Shakespeare) the Laurel and the Bay are both named as the same tree--

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

_Christopher Brooke_--_Introd. verses
to_ BROWNE'S _Pastorals._

In the present day no garden of shrubs can be considered complete without the Bay tree, both the common one and especially the Californian Bay (_Oreodaphne Californica_), which, with its bright green lanceolate foliage and powerful aromatic scent (to some too pungent), deserves a place everywhere, and it is not so liable to be cut by the spring winds as the European Bay.[32:2] Parkinson's high praise of the Bay tree (forty years after Shakespeare's death) is too long for insertion, but two short sentences may be quoted: "The Bay leaves are of as necessary use as any other in the garden or orchard, for they serve both for pleasure and profit, both for ornament and for use, both for honest civil uses and for physic, yea, both for the sick and for the sound, both for the living and for the dead; . . . so that from the cradle to the grave we have still use of it, we have still need of it."

The Bay tree gives us a curious instance of the capriciousness of English plant names. Though a true Laurel it does not bear the name, which yet is given to two trees, the common (and Portugal) Laurel, and the Laurestinus, neither of which are Laurels--the one being a Cherry or Plum (_Prunus_ or _Cerasus_), the other a Guelder Rose (_Viburnum_).[33:1]

FOOTNOTES:

[32:1] "The Anglo-Saxon Beay was not a ring only, or an armlet: it was also a coronet or diadem. . . . The Bays, then, of our Poets and the Bay tree were in reality the Coronet and the Coronet tree."--COCKAYNE, _Spoon and Sparrow_, p. 21.

[32:2] The Californian Bay has not been established in England long enough to form a timber tree, but in America it is highly prized as one of the very best trees for cabinet work, especially for the ornamental parts of pianos.

[33:1] For an interesting account of the Bay and the Laurels, giving the history of the names, &c., see two papers by Mr. H. Evershed in "Gardener's Chronicle," September, 1876.

BEANS.

(1) _Puck._

When I a fat and Bean-fed horse beguile.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act ii, sc. 1 (45).

(2) _Carrier._

Peas and Beans are as dank here as a dog; and that is the next
way to give poor jades the bots.

_1st Henry IV_, act ii, sc. 1 (9).

The Bean (_Faba vulgaris_), though an Eastern plant, was very early introduced into England as an article of food both for men and horses. As an article of human food opinions were divided, as now. By some it was highly esteemed--

"Corpus alit Faba; stringit cum cortice ventrem,
Desiccat fleuma, stomacum lumenque relidit"--

is the description of the Bean in the "Modus Cenandi," l. 182 ("Babee's Book," ii, 48). While H. Vaughan describes it as--

"The Bean
By curious pallats never sought;"

and it was very generally used as a proverb of contempt--

"None other lif, sayd he, is worth a Bene."[34:1]

"But natheles I reche not a Bene."[34:2]

It is not apparently a romantic plant, and yet there is no plant round which so much curious folk lore has gathered. This may be seen at full length in Phillips' "History of Cultivated Vegetables." It will be enough here to say that the Bean was considered as a sacred plant both by the Greeks and Romans, while by the Egyptian priests it was considered too unclean to be even looked upon; that it was used both for its convenient shape and for its sacred associations in all elections by ballot; that this custom lasted in England and in most Europeans countries to a very recent date in the election of the kings and queens at Twelfth Night and other feasts; and that it was of great repute in all popular divinations and love charms. I find in Miller another use of Beans, which we are thankful to note among the obsolete uses: "They are bought up in great quantities at Bristol for Guinea ships, as food for the negroes on their passage from Africa to the West Indies."

As an ornamental garden plant the Bean has never received the attention it seems to deserve. A plant of Broad Beans grown singly is quite a stately plant, and the rich scent is an additional attraction to many, though to many others it is too strong, and it has a bad character--"Sleep in a Bean-field all night if you want to have awful dreams or go crazy," is a Leicestershire proverb:[34:3] and the Scarlet Runner (which is also a Bean) is one of the most beautiful climbers we have. In England we seldom grow it for ornament, but in France I have seen it used with excellent effect to cover a trellis-screen, mixed with the large blue Convolvulus major.

FOOTNOTES:

[34:1] Chaucer, "The Marchandes Tale," 19.

[34:2] Ibid., "The Man of Lawes Tale," prologue.

[34:3] Copied from the mediæval proverb: "Cum faba florescit, stultorum copia crescit."

BILBERRY.

_Pistol._

Where fires thou find'st unraked and hearths unswept,
There pinch the maids as blue as Bilberry--
Our radiant Queen hates sluts and sluttery.

_Merry Wives_, act v, sc. 5 (48).

The Bilberry is a common British shrub found on all mossy heaths, and very pretty both in flower and in fruit. Its older English name was Heathberry, and its botanical name is Vaccinium myrtillus. We have in Britain four species of Vaccinium: the Whortleberry or Bilberry (_V. myrtillus_), the Large Bilberry (_V. uliginosum_), the Crowberry (_V. vitis idæa_), and the Cranberry (_V. oxycoccos_). These British species, as well as the North American species (of which there are several), are all beautiful little shrubs in cultivation, but they are very difficult to grow; they require a heathy soil, moisture, and partial shade.

BIRCH.

_Duke._

Fond fathers,
Having bound up the threatening twigs of Birch,
Only to stick it in their children's sight
For terror, not to use, in time the rod
Becomes more mock'd than fear'd.

_Measure for Measure_, act i, sc. 3 (23).

Shakespeare only mentions this one unpleasant use of the Birch tree, the manufacture of Birch rods; and for such it seems to have been chiefly valued in his day. "I have not red of any vertue it hath in physick," says Turner; "howbeit, it serveth for many good uses, and for none better than for betynge of stubborn boys, that either lye or will not learn." Yet the Birch is not without interest. The word "Birch" is the same as "bark," meaning first the rind of a tree and then a barque or boat (from which we also get our word "barge"), and so the very name carries us to those early times when the Birch was considered one of the most useful of trees, as it still is in most northern countries, where it grows at a higher degree of latitude than any other tree. Its bark was especially useful, being useful for cordage, and matting, and roofing, while the tree itself formed the early British canoes, as it still forms the canoes of the North American Indians, for which it is well suited, from its lightness and ease in working.