Chapter X: Part TWO: The Flowers of Shakespeare (4)

"Rosemary is almost of as great use as Bays or any other herb, both for inward and outward remedies and as well for civil as physical purposes. Inwardly for the head and heart; outwardly for the sinews and joints. For civil uses, as all do know, at weddings, funerals, etc., to bestow among friends; and the physical are so many that you might be as well tired in the reading as I in the writing, if I should set down all that might be said of it."

RUE (_Ruta graveolus_). Rue was a much valued plant in Shakespeare's time. There were many superstitions about it which seem to have been survivals from ancient days, for rue is supposed to have been the moly which Homer says Mercury gave to Ulysses to withstand the enchantments of Circe. Miraculous powers were attributed to rue: it was said to quicken the sight, to stir up the spirits, to sharpen the wit, to cure madness, and to cause the dumb to speak. It was also an excellent antidote against poison and the very smell of it insured preservation against the plague. Rue was, therefore, very popular and was much used as a disinfectant.

Parkinson tells us:

Garden Rue (_Ruta_), or Herbe Grace, groweth up with hard whitish woody stalks whereon are set divers branches of leaves being divided into many small ones, which are somewhat thick and round pointed, of a bluish-green color. The flowers stand at the tops of the stalks, consisting of four small yellow leaves, with a green button in the middle, and divers small yellow threads about it, which growing ripe, contain within them small black seeds.

"The many good properties whereunto Rue serveth hath, I think, in former times caused the English name of Herbe Grace to be given unto it. For without doubt it is a most wholesome herb, although bitter and strong. Some do wrap up a bead roll of the virtues of Rue, as Macer the poet and others, in whom you shall find them set down to be good for the head, eyes, breast, liver, heart, spleen, etc."

Gerard quaintly said:

"It is reported that if a man be anointed with the juice of rue, the bitings of serpents, scorpions, wasps, etc., will not hurt him. When the weasel is to fight with the serpent, she armeth herself by eating rue against the might of the serpent."

Another quaint idea was that rue throve best if a clipping from the plant was stolen from a neighbor's garden. Like rosemary, rue was considered by the astrologers as an herb of the sun and was placed under the sign of Leo.

Rue was also called the herb of grace and the "serving man's joy." Shakespeare frequently refers to the herb o' grace: once in connection with salad in "All 's Well That Ends Well."[73]

[73] See p. 237.

_Ophelia_ has rue among her flowers when she distributes appropriate blossoms to the courtiers. She says:

There's rue for you; and some for me;
We may call it herb of grace o' Sundays.
Oh, you must wear your rue with a difference.

Again we find rue in the _Duke of York's_ garden in "King Richard II." After the sad queen and her ladies have departed, bewailing the news of the king's deposition, the gardener, looking after them, exclaims:

Poor queen! So that thy state might be no worse,
I would my skill were subject to thy curse.--
Here did she fall a tear; here, in this place,
I'll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace:
Rue, even for ruth, here shortly shall be seen,
In the remembrance of a weeping queen.[74]

[74] Act III, Scene IV.

II

_Lavender, Mints, and Fennel_

LAVENDER (_Lavendula Spica_). "Hot lavender," _Perdita_ calls it. Why is this? Turning to Gerard for an explanation, we find he says: "Lavender is hot and dry in the third degree and of a substance consisting of many airy and spiritual parts." Gerard had lavender in his garden and so did Parkinson, who says:

"It is called of some _Nardus Italica_ and _Lavendula_, the greater is called _Fœmina_ and the lesser _Mas_. We do call them generally Lavender, or Lavender Spike, and the Lesser Spike. Lavender is little used in physic but outwardly: the oil for cold and benumbed parts and is almost wholly spent with us for to perfume linen, apparrell, gloves, leather, etc., and the dried flowers to comfort and dry up the moisture of a cold brain.

"Our ordinary Garden Lavender riseth up with a hard woody stem about the ground parted into many small branches whereon are set whitish long and narrow leaves by couples; from among which riseth up naked square stalks with two leaves at a joint and at the top divers small husks standing round about them formed in long or round heads or spikes with purple gaping flowers springing out of each of them. The heads of the flowers are used to be put among linen and apparrell."

Because of its scent, lavender was often included in the nosegay. Lavender was much loved by sweethearts. In the "Handful of Pleasant Delights" (1584) it is described thus:

Lavender is for lovers true,
Whichever more be saine,
Desiring always for to have
Some pleasure for their pain.
And when that they obtainèd have
The Love that they require,
Then have they all their perfect joy
And quenched is the fire.

Lavender belongs to the crowfoot family, and therefore is related to the columbine, buttercup, and monk's-hood (aconite). The ancients used it in their baths, whence the name from the Latin _lavare_, to wash. The Elizabethans loved, as we do to-day, to place bags of dried lavender among the household linen.

MINTS (_Mentha_). Mints occur in _Perdita's_ list with "hot lavender, thyme and savory." Although many kinds of mint were cultivated in gardens, Parkinson mentions only three:

"The Red Mint, or Brown Mint, with dark green nicked leaves, reddish flowers and of a reasonable good scent; Speare Mint, greener and paler leaves, with flowers growing in long ears, or spikes, of a pale red, or blush, color; and Parti-colored, or White Mint, with leaves more nicked, half white and half green, and flowers in long heads, close set together of a bluish color.

"Mints are oftentimes used in baths with Balm and other herbs as a help to comfort and strengthen the nerves and sinews, either outwardly applied or inwardly drunk. Applied with salt, it is a good help for the biting of a mad dog. It is used to be boiled with mackerel and other fish. Being dried, it is often and much used with pennyroyal to put into puddings, as also among pease that are boiled for pottage."

In Elizabethan days it was the custom to strew churches with mint. In an Elizabethan play, "Appius and Virginia," these lines occur:

Thou knave, but for thee ere this time of day
My lady's fair pew had been strewed full gay
With primroses, cowslips and violets sweet,
With mints, with marigold and marjoram meek.

Pliny said "the smell of mint doth stir up the mind and taste to a greedy desire of meat." This carries mint-sauce back into antiquity! Medieval writers believed that the smell of mint refreshed the head and memory; and in Medieval days the herb was dedicated to the Virgin and called _Herba Sanctæ Mariæ_ and _Menthe de Notre Dame_. The ancients dedicate it to Venus; hence it was used as a garland for brides--_corona Veneris_. The old myth had it that Menthe was a nymph beloved of Pluto and transformed into an herb by Proserpina who had now become sufficiently interested in the husband who had carried her off against her will to be jealous.

FENNEL (_Fœniculum vulgare_). _Falstaff_ speaks of fennel as a relish for conger in "King Henry IV";[75] and _Ophelia_ presents fennel to the King to clear his sight just as she gave rosemary to _Laertes_ to refresh his memory,[76] for according to a belief held by Pliny: "Fennel hath a wonderful property to mundify our sight and take away the film, or web, that overcasteth and dimmeth our eyes."

[75] Act II, Scene IV.

[76] "There's fennel for you and columbines" ("Hamlet"; Act IV, Scene V).

"There are three sorts of Fennel," says Parkinson, "whereof two are sweet." The one of them is the ordinary sweet fennel whose seeds are larger and yellower than the common. The other sweet Fennel is not much known and called _Cardus_ Fennel by those that sent it out of Italy. Fennel is of great use to trim up and strew upon fish, as also to boil, or put among fish of divers sorts, Cowcumbers pickled and other fruits, etc. The roots are used with parsley roots to be boiled in broths and drinks. The seed is much used to be put into pippin pies and divers other such baked fruits, as also into bread to give it the better relish.

"The Sweet Cardus Fennel being sent by Sir Henry Wotton to John Tradescant had likewise a large direction with it how to dress it, for they used to white it after it hath been transplanted for their uses, which by reason of the sweetness by nature and the tenderness of art causeth it to be most delightful to the taste, especially with them that are accustomed to feed on green herbs."

Another ancient belief preserved by Pliny was "that serpents eat fennel because it restored their youth by causing them to cast their old skins and they recovered their sight by eating the plant."

The flowers of the fennel are yellow.

The Greek name for fennel is _marathon_. The Battle of Marathon took its name from the plant. The story goes that a youth named Pheidippides ran to Sparta to seek aid for Athens when the Persian fleet appeared, and he was told that the Spartans could not come until after the full moon. Very disheartened, he was returning to Athens when Pan appeared to him and promised victory, giving the youth a piece of fennel as a token of his prophecy. The battle took place on a field full of fennel and was known henceforth as the Battle of Marathon (490 B. C.). Statues of the youth always represented him as holding a sprig of fennel. Browning has told the story in his "Pheidippides."

III

_Sweet Marjoram, Thyme, and Savory_

MARJORAM (_Origanum vulgare_) was a favorite plant in Tudor and Stuart times. An old writer informs us that "Sweet Marjoram is not only much used to please the outward sense in nosegays and in the windows of houses, as also in sweet powders, sweet bays and sweet washing waters, but is also of much use in physic."

_Perdita_ classes it with hot lavender and savory.[77] Shakespeare, appreciating its delicate and delightful scent, brings this out most beautifully in his "Sonnet XCIX":

The forward violet thus did I chide:--
Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells
If not from my love's breath? The purple pride
Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells,
In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed.
The lily I condemnèd for thy hand,
And buds of marjoram had stolen thy hair.

[77] "The Winter's Tale"; Act IV, Scene III.

This comparison is even more lovely than Milton's description of _Sabrina_ with her "loose braid of amber-dropping hair."

In Shakespeare's time several species were grown: the common, the winter, and the sweet. They were all favorite pot-herbs and were used in salads, if we may believe the _Clown_ in "All's Well That Ends Well":

LAFEN. 'Twas a good lady, 'twas a good lady; we may pick a thousand
sallets ere we light on such another herb.

CLOWN. Indeed, sir, she was the Sweet Marjoram of the sallet, or,
rather, the Herb of Grace.

LAFEN. They are not sallet-herbs, you knave, they are nose-herbs.

CLOWN. I am no great Nebuchadnezzar; sir, I have not much skill in
grass.[78]

[78] Act IV, Scene V.

Parkinson writes:

"The common Sweet Marjoram (_Marierome_) is a low herb, little above a foot high, full of branches and small whitish, soft, roundish leaves, smelling very sweet. At the tops of the branches stand divers small, scaly heads, like unto knots, of a whitish green color, out of which come, here and there, small, white flowers, and afterward small reddish seed. Called _Mariorama_ in Latin, it is taken of most writers to be the Amaracus, or Sampsuchum, of Dioscorides, Theophrastus and Pliny."

According to the Greek myth a young man named Amarakos was employed in the household of the King of Cyprus. One day when he was carrying a vase of perfumes he dropped it, and he was so much humiliated by his carelessness that he fell and lost consciousness. The gods then changed him into the sweet herb _amarakos_, or _amaracus_, which is the Greek name for this plant. Rapin thought it owed its existence to Venus:

And tho' Sweet Marjoram will your garden paint
With no gay colors, yet preserve the plant,
Whose fragrance will invite your kind regard
When her known virtues have her worth declared:
On Simois' shore fair Venus raised the plant,
Which from the Goddess' touch derived her scent.

THYME (_Thymus Serpyllum_). Thyme has always been appreciated by those who delight in aromatic perfume. It was one of those plants that Lord Bacon said were so delicious when trodden upon and crushed. Thyme was the symbol for sweetness in Elizabethan days.

And sweet thyme true

was a favorite expression. "Sweet thyme true" occurs in connection with roses, "maiden pinks," and daisies in the song in "The Two Noble Kinsmen."[79]

[79] Act I, Scene I.

Fairies were thought to be particularly fond of thyme, and that is one reason why Shakespeare covered the bank where _Titania_ was wont to sleep with wild thyme. The other reason was that he chose the sweetest flowers for perfume for the canopy and couch of the Fairy Queen: musk-roses, eglantine, honeysuckle, violets, and wild thyme mingling the most delicious of scents. The word comes from the Greek and Latin _thymum_. Thyme covered Mount Hymettus and gave to the honey produced there a particularly delicious aromatic flavor. The "honey of Mount Hymettus" became a proverb. Hybla in Sicily was no less famed for its thyme, and, consequently, its honey. Thyme is especially a "bee-plant"; and those who would see their gardens full of bees would do well to plant thyme with lavish hand. Ladies used to embroider a bee hovering over a sprig of thyme on the scarves they gave to their lovers--a symbol of action and honor. Thyme, too, was supposed to renew the spirits of man and beast and it was deemed a powerful antidote against melancholy.

Turning to our old friend, Parkinson, we find that

"The ordinary garden Thyme (_Thymus vulgatius sive durius_) is a small, low, woody plant with brittle branches and small, hard, green leaves, as every one knoweth, having small white purplish flowers standing round about the tops of the stalks. The seed is small and brown, darker than Marjoram. The root is woody and abideth well divers Winters.

"To set down all the particular uses whereunto Thyme is applied were to weary both the writer and the reader. I will but only note out a few, for besides the physical uses to many purposes for the head, stomach, spleen, etc., there is no herb almost of more use in the houses both of high and low, rich and poor, both for inward and outward occasions,--outwardly for bathings among other hot herbs and among other sweet herbs for strewings. Inwardly in most sorts of broths, with Rosemary, as also with other faseting (or rather farsing) herbs,[80] and to make sauce for divers sorts, both fish and flesh, as to stuff the belly of a goose to be roasted and after put into the sauce and the powder with bread to strew on meat when it is roasted, and so likewise on roasted or fried fish. It is held by divers to be a speedy remedy against the sting of a bee, being bruised and laid thereon.

[80] _Farsi_, stuffing.

"The wild Thyme (_Serpyllum hortense sive maius_), growth upright, but yet is low, with divers slender branches and small round green leaves, somewhat like unto small fine Marjoram, and smelling somewhat like unto it. The flowers grow in roundels at the tops of the branches of a purplish color. And in another of this kind they are of a pure white color. There is another also that smelleth somewhat like unto Musk, and therefore called Musk Thyme, whose green leaves are not so small as the former, but larger and longer."

SAVORY (_Satureia_). This herb is mentioned by _Perdita_. It was a great favorite in the old herb-garden and was probably introduced into England by the Romans. It is mentioned in Anglo-Saxon recipes as "savorie." Both the winter and summer savory were used as seasoning for dressing and sauces. "The Winter Savory is used as a condiment and sauce to meat, to put into puddings, sausages and such-like kinds of meat." So says an old writer, who continues: "Some do use the powder of the herb dried to mix with grated bread to bread their meat, be it fish or flesh, to give it the quicker relish."

Parkinson writes:

"The Winter Savory (_Satureia sive Thymbra_) is a small, low, bushy herb, very like unto hyssop, but not above a foot high, with divers small, hard branches and hard, dark, green leaves thereon, thicker set together than the former by so much, and as thick as common Hyssop, sometimes with four leaves, or more, at a joint, of a reasonable strong scent, yet not so strong or quick as the former. The flowers are of a pale purplish color, set at several distances at the tops of the stalks with leaves at the joints also with them, like the former. The root is woody with divers small strings thereat, and abideth all the winter with his green leaves. It is more usually increased by slipping, or dividing, the root and new setting it, severally again in the Spring, than by sowing the seed."

IV

_Sweet Balm and Camomile_

SWEET BALM (_Melissa officinalis_). Sweet _Anne Page_ commanded the elves to bestow good luck throughout Windsor Castle:[81]

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

[81] "The Merry Wives of Windsor"; Act V, Scene V.

The Greek and Latin names, _melissa_, _melissophyllum_, and _apiastrum_, show that this was a bee-plant, which was still the case in Shakespeare's time.

"It is an herb," says Parkinson, "wherein bees do much delight"; and he also tells us that if balm is rubbed on the inside of the hive "it draweth others to resort thither." He goes on to describe it as follows:

"The Garden Balm hath divers square blackish green stalks and round, hard, dark, green pointed leaves growing thereon by couples, a little notched about the edges; of a pleasant sweet scent drawing near to the scent of a Lemon or Citron; and therefore of some called Citrago. The flowers grow about the tops of the stalks at certain distances, being small and gaping, of a pale carnation color, almost White. The roots fasten themselves strongly on the ground and endure many years. It is increased by dividing the roots; for the leaves die down to the ground every year, leaving no show of leaf or stalk in the Winter. Balm is often used among other hot and sweet herbs to make baths and washings for men's bodies in the Summer time. The herb without all question is an excellent help to comfort the heart, as the very smell may induce any so to believe. It is also good to heal green wounds being made into salve. I verily think that our forefathers hearing of the healing and comfortable properties of the true natural Balm and finding this herb to be so effectual gave it the name of Balm in imitation of his properties and virtues."

Arabian physicians recommended balm for affections of the heart and hypochondria.

CAMOMILE (_Anthemis nobilis_). _Falstaff_ points a moral in the lowly camomile: "Though the Camomile the more it is trodden on the faster it grows, yet youth the more it is wasted the sooner it wears."[82] A similar idea occurs in Lyly's "Euphues" (1588): "Though the Camomile the more it is trodden and pressed down the more it spreadeth, yet the violet the oftener it is handled and touched, the sooner it withereth and decayeth."

[82] "King Henry IV"; Part I, Act II, Scene IV.

Emblem of patience, the camomile was often used to point a moral and to teach patience. In "The More the Merrier" (1608), a character observes:

The Camomile shall teach thee patience,
Which riseth best when trodden most upon.

Because its scent was brought out when trodden upon, camomile was planted in and along walks and on the edges of flower-beds. Its low growth and delicious perfume made it a very attractive border plant.

In Lawson's "New Orchard" (about 1616) there are instructions for "Large walks, broad and long, close and open like the Tempe groves in Thessaly, raised with gravel and sand, having seats and banks of Camomile: all this delights the mind and brings health to the body."

In Shakespeare's day camomile grew in "the wild field by Richmond Green."

"Our ordinary Camomill [says Parkinson] is well known to all to have many small trailing branches set with very fine small leaves and spreading thick over the ground taking root as it spreadeth; the tops of the branches have white flowers with yellow thrums in the middle, very like unto the Featherfew, but somewhat greater not so hard but more soft and gentle in handling and the whole herb is to be of a very sweet scent.

"Camomill is called _Anthemis Leucanthemis_ and _Leucanthemum_ of the whiteness of the flowers; and _Chamœmœlum_ of the corrupted Italian name Camomilla. Some call the naked Camomill _Chrysanthemum odoratum_. The double Camomill is called by some _Chamœmœlum Romanum flore multiplici_.

"Camomill is put to divers and sundry uses both for pleasure and profit; both for inward and outward diseases, both for the sick and the sound, in bathings to comfort and strengthen the sound and to ease pains in the diseased. The flowers boiled in posset drink provoketh sweat and helpeth to expel colds, aches and other griefs. A syrup made of the juice of the double Camomill with the flowers and white wine is used by some against jaundice and dropsy."

V

_Dian's Bud and Monk's-hood Blue_

DIAN'S BUD (_Artemesia_). This plant is nothing more nor less than absinthe, or wormwood. It is mentioned under its poetic name by Shakespeare in "A Midsummer Night's Dream" when _Oberon_ bids _Puck_ find him the "little purple flower called Love in Idleness," the juice of which placed on sleeping eyelids would make man, or woman, madly dote on the first object beheld on awakening, and with which he intended to anoint the eyelids of the sleeping _Titania_. He also told the mischievous sprite that the charm could be removed with another herb--Dian's bud, the flower sacred to the goddess Diana. Later in the play, touching the eyes of the spellbound fairy with this second herb, _Oberon_ pronounces the following incantation:

Be as thou was wont to be,
See as thou was wont to see;
Dian's bud on Cupid's flower
Hath such force and blessed power.

From the earliest times absinthe was associated with sorcery and was used for incantations. Pliny says the traveler who carried it about him would never grow weary and that it would drive away any lurking devils and counteract the evil eye. Ovid calls it _absinthium_ and speaks of its bitterness.

The Greeks also called it _artemesia_ after the goddess Artemis, or Diana, and made it a moon-plant. Very poetically, therefore, Shakespeare alludes to it as "Dian's Bud,"--and most appropriately does it appear in the moon-lit forest. Gerard, however, quaintly says that is was named for Queen Artemesia, wife of Mausolus, King of Caria, who built the Mausoleum, which was one of the "Seven Wonders of the World." The ancients liked its flavor in their wine as many people still like vermouth, one of its infusions.

In Shakespeare's time people hung up sprays of wormwood to drive away moths and fleas; and there was a homely verse:

Whose chamber is swept and wormwood is thrown
No flea for his life dare abide to be known.

Wormwood was also kept in drawers and closets. To dream of the plant was of good augury: happiness and domestic enjoyment were supposed to result. Mugwort is another old name for the plant.

MONK'S-HOOD (_Aconitum Napellus_). This plant has three names: monk's-hood, wolf's-bane, and aconite. Aconite is the "dram of poison" that _Romeo_ calls for,[83] and Shakespeare alludes to _aconitum_ in "King Henry IV," where the king, addressing _Thomas of Clarence_, compares its strength and that of gunpowder. "Though it do work as strong as aconitum or rash gunpowder."[84] Aconite was supposed in Elizabethan days to be an antidote against the most deadly poison. Ben Jonson in "Sejanus" makes one of his characters remark:

I have heard that aconite
Being timely taken hath a healing might
Against the scorpion's sting.[85]

Lord Bacon in "Sylva" calls _Napellus_ "the most powerful poison of all vegetables."

[83] "Romeo and Juliet"; Act V, Scene I.

[84] Part II, Act IV, Scene IV.

[85] Act III, Scene III.

Yet despite its poisonous qualities, an English garden lover writes, "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 favorite."

The ancients, who were unacquainted with mineral poisons, regarded aconite as the most deadly of all poisons and believed that Hecate had caused the plant to spring from the venomous foam frothing from the mouth of the three-headed dog, Cerberus, when Hercules took him from Pluto's dark realm on one of his Twelve Labors. Ovid describes the aconite as

A weed by sorcerers renowned
The strongest constitution to compound
Called aconite, because it can unlock
All bars and force its passage through a rock.

In Greece it was also known as Wolf's-bane (_Lycoctonum_), and it was thought that arrow-heads rubbed with it would kill wolves. Turner quaintly writes in his "Herbal" (1568):

"This of all poisons is the most hastie poison, howbeit Pliny saith this herb will kill a man if he take it, except it find in a man something to kill. Let our Londoners which have of late received this blue Wolf's-bane, otherwise called Monk's Cane, take heed that the poison of the root of this herb do not more harm than the freshness of the flower hath done pleasure. Let them not say but they are warned."

Parkinson's name for it is _Napellus verus flore cœruleo_ (Blue Helmet-Flower, or Monk's-hood).

"The Helmet Flower," he writes, "hath divers leaves of a fresh green color on the upper side and grayish underneath, much spread abroad and cut into many slits and notches. The stalk riseth up two or three foot high, beset to the top with the like leaves, but smaller. The top is sometimes divided into two or three branches, but more usually without, whereon stand many large flowers one above another, in form very like a hood, or open helmet, being composed of five leaves, the uppermost of which and the greatest is hollow, like unto a helmet, or headpiece: two other small leaves are at the sides of the helmet, closing it like cheeks, and come somewhat under, and two other which are the smallest hang down like labels, or as if a close helmet were opened and some pieces hung by, of a perfect, or fair, blue color (but grow darker having stood long) which causeth it to be so nourished up in Gardens that their flowers, as was usual in former times (and yet is in many country places) may be laid among green herbs in windows and rooms for the Summertime; but although their beauty may be entertained for the uses aforesaid, yet beware they come not near your tongue or lips, lest they tell you to your cost, they are not so good as they seem to be. In the middest of the flower, when it is open and gapeth wide, are seen certain small threads like beards, standing about a middle head, which, when the flower is past, groweth into three or four, or more, small blackish pods, containing in them black seeds. The roots are brownish on the outside and white within, somewhat big and round about and small downwards, somewhat like unto a small, short carrot root, sometimes two being joined at the head together. It is the true _Napellus_ of the ancient writers, which they so termed from the form of a turnip called _Napus_ in Latin."

Generally speaking the leaf and flower of the monk's-hood resemble the larkspur; and, like the larkspur and the columbine, the plant has wandered away from its original family, the buttercup tribe. The upper sepal has developed from a spur into a hood.

Winter

"WHEN ICICLES HANG BY THE WALL"

I

_Holly and Ivy_

HOLLY (_Ilex aquifolium_). Holly, with its beautiful red berries and unique leaf, stiff and prickly, but highly decorative, is the chief emblem of Christmas. We are continuing very ancient traditions when we hang up our Christmas wreaths and garlands. The earliest records of the human race contain references to the custom of decorating houses and temples and evergreens on occasions of rejoicing. Holly comes to us from pagan usage. Five hundred years before the birth of Christ the Romans had been celebrating their midwinter festival--the Saturnalia--commemorating the equality supposed to have existed on earth in the golden reign of Saturn. The Saturnalia was a period of general merry-making and relaxation. People gave each other presents, wished each other "Io Saturnalia," just as we wish each other "Merry Christmas," and decorated their houses and temples with evergreens, among which holly was conspicuous. The early Christians, who celebrated the birth of Christ during the Saturnalia, adorned their homes with holly for the purpose of safety. They would have been unpleasantly noticed had they left their homes undecorated. After a time holly became associated with the Christian festival itself. As the Christmas celebration spread throughout Europe and into Great Britain, local observances naturally became added to the original rites; and gradually to certain features taken over from the Saturnalia were added customs which the Germanic tribes, the Scandinavians, the Gauls, the Celts, and early Britons practised for the midwinter festival. "Thus," says a modern writer, "all the pagan winter festivals were transmuted and sanctified by the Christian Church into the beautiful Christmas festival that keeps the world's heart young and human. The Church also brought from ancient observances a number of lovable customs, such as the giving of presents, the lighting of candles, the burning of the Yule-log, the Boar's Head, the Christmas Tree, the mistletoe, the holly, laurel and other greens and the mince-pies."

At a season when everything was chosen to commemorate, or invoke, the spirit of growth, or fertility, the holly, mistletoe and ivy--all of which bear fruit in the winter--become particularly precious. Beautiful, cheery holly, with its glossy, prickly leaves and its coral bells, was a sacred plant in the childhood of the world and will continue to be a sacred plant as long as the world lasts. We may make garlands of laurel or bay-leaves, we may bind together ropes of crow's-foot or smilax, and we may bring into our rooms pots of poinsettia; but nothing takes, or will ever take, the place the holly occupies in our affections. In our literature holly is honored. It now symbolizes the spirit of Christmas as nothing else does.

One of the earliest Christmas carols, dating from the Fifteenth Century, describes a contest of Holly and Ivy for the chief place in the hall. Holly is the man and Ivy the woman. They have an argument (which is a kind of duet), each setting forth his or her claim to superiority. Finally, it is decided that Holly, with his beautiful red berries, shall reign in the hall instead of Ivy, whose berries are black. Moreover, many sweet birds are attracted to Holly; but only the owl loves Ivy.

Holly is, of course, the subject of many carols. A typical one of the Fifteenth Century is as follows:

Here comes Holly, that is so gent,
Alleluia!
To please all men is his intent,
Alleluia!
But lord and lady of the hall,
Alleluia!
Whosoever against Holly call,
Alleluia!
Whosoever against Holly do cry,
Alleluia!
In a lepe shall he hang full high.
Alleluia!
Whosoever against Holly do sing,
Alleluia!
He may weep and his handys wring,
Alleluia!

From the above it will be seen that it was a crime to say a derogatory word about holly. Holly was not only loved for its beauty but it was a holy plant. Witches detested it and it was a charm against their evil machinations. The name comes from the Anglo-Saxon _holegn_. The Norse word is _hulf_, or _hulver_; and as Chaucer calls it "Hulfeere" we may conclude that holly was familiar to the people of Chaucer's time under that name.

It is somewhat singular that Shakespeare has written a song of wintry wind and holly berries to be sung in the Forest of Arden. It affords, however, a delightful contrast to the sun-lit summer woodland.

While in it holly is not actually described, _Amiens's_ song will always remain the song of songs to holly:

Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.
Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly.
Then heigh ho the holly!
This life is most jolly.

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
Thou dost not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot;
Though thou the waters warp
Thy sting is not so sharp
As friend remembered not.
Heigh ho! sing, heigh ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly.
Then, heigh ho! the holly!
This life is most jolly.

IVY (_Hedera Helix_). Shakespeare mentions ivy twice: in "A Midsummer Night's Dream" where _Titania_, bidding _Bottom_ sleep, says:

Sleep thou and I will wind thee in my arms ...
the female ivy so
Enrings the barky fingers of the elm.[86]

and in "The Tempest," when _Prospero_ compares his false brother with the ivy:

The ivy, which had hid my princely trunk,
And suck'd my verdure out on 't.[87]

[86] Act IV, Scene I.

[87] Act I, Scene II.

In the old carols and plays Ivy is always represented as a woman, and yet, although beloved, was used for the outside decorations and doorways. Ivy never had the place within that holly occupied.

As ivy clings and embraces the object near it, the plant was chosen as an emblem of confiding love and friendship. Tusser's commands are as follows: "Get Ivy and Holly, women, deck up thy house." Ivy was also used in the church decorations at Christmas-tide. In the Middle Ages ivy was a favored and most auspicious plant. An old carol says:

Ivy is soft and meke of speech,
Against all bale she is bliss,
Well is he that her may reach:--
_Veni, coronaberis_.

Ivy is green with color bright,
Of all trees best she is,
And that I prove will now be right:-
_Veni, coronaberis_.

Ivy beareth berries black,
God grant us all His bliss,
For there we shall nothing lack:--
_Veni, coronaberis_.

Ivy was the crown of the Greek and Roman poets, whose myths proclaimed the plant sacred to Bacchus. Indeed the plant took its name from Bacchus (_kissos_) for it was said that the child was hidden under ivy when abandoned by his mother, Semele. The ivy was mingled with the grape in the crown of Bacchus and it enwreathed his thyrsus. Ivy berries eaten before wine was swallowed prevented intoxication, so Pliny says. Perhaps because of its association with Bacchus ivy was hung at the vintners' doors in England as well as on the Continent, and a reference to this custom is contained in Nash's "Summer's Last Will and Testament" (1600).

In Shakespeare's time ivy was considered a remedy against plague, which gave another reason for veneration.

England would almost cease to be England without the ivy that so luxuriantly covers the walls of old buildings and adds its soft beauty to the crumbling ruins. Everybody loves it--strangers as well as natives; and every one loves the poem that Dickens inserted into "The Pickwick Papers":

Oh, a dainty plant is the Ivy green,
That creepeth o'er ruins old!
On right choice food are his meals, I ween,
In his cell so lone and cold.
The wall must be crumbled, the stone decay'd
To pleasure his dainty whim;
And the mouldering dust that years have made,
Is a merry meal for him.
Creeping where no life is seen,
A rare old plant is the Ivy green!

First, he stealeth on, though he wears no wings,
And a staunch old heart has he;
How closely he turneth, how close he clings,
To his friend, the huge oak tree!
And slily he traileth along the ground,
And his leaves he gently waves,
As he joyously hugs and crawleth round
The rich mould of men's graves.
Creeping where grim Death hath been,
A rare old plant is the Ivy green!

Whole ages have fled and their works decayed,
And nations have scattered been;
But the stout old ivy shall never fade
From its hale and hearty green.
The brave old plant in its lonely days
Shall fatten on the past,
For the stateliest building man can raise
Is the ivy's food at last.
Creeping on where Time has been
A rare old plant is the Ivy green!

II

_Mistletoe and Box_

THE MISTLETOE (_Viscum album_). The mistletoe, the "all-healer," is a mysterious and mystical plant. The Greeks venerated it. Virgil gave it to Æneas for the "Golden Bough," to guide him to the Underworld. The Scandinavians dedicated it to their goddess of love, Freya (or Freyja). The mistletoe is, however, more closely associated with the Druids than with any other race. The plant was so sacred to these strange people that it was never allowed to touch the ground. At the New Year the Druids marched in solemn procession into the forest, and the high priest climbed the oak-tree and, with a golden sickle, cut the mistletoe from the branches. Other priests stood below holding a white cloth to receive the mistletoe as it fell. The sacred plant was dipped into water and then distributed among the people, to whom it was supposed to bring good luck of all kinds.

Even to-day we do not like the "Mistletoe Bough" to fall. We say it is "unlucky"; but possibly we have unconsciously inherited from our remote ancestors a spark of reverence for the "Golden Bough."

The Welsh thought the mistletoe "pure gold," believing that it had a connection with the golden fire of the sun; and they thought also that the mistletoe absorbed the life of the oak-tree to which it clung.

The Church never sanctioned the mistletoe. It never appears, therefore, among the Christmas decorations in the churches. No edicts, however, were strong enough to banish it from the decorations of the house, and the mistletoe bough is always a feature in the home where Christmas is celebrated with picturesque traditions. The precise reason for hanging up the Mistletoe Bough is lost in antiquity; but it is possible that the particular reasons were because it has supposed miraculous powers of healing sickness and averting misfortune, and great potency in promoting fertility and bestowing prosperity. For hundreds of years the mistletoe has been reverenced alike in castle, baronial hall, manor house and farmhouse in Shakespeare's country and in the homes of rich and poor in our own country.

Undoubtedly the idea of kissing under the Mistletoe Bough was derived from the fact that the plant was dedicated to the Northern goddess of love. The old saying is that the maiden who is not kissed under the mistletoe will not be married within the coming year. The ceremony of kissing is not properly performed unless a berry is plucked off and given with each kiss to the maiden. When the berries are all gone the privilege of kissing ceases.

That mistletoe grows on the oak-tree solely is a popular error. In fact, the plant prefers the apple. Most of the English mistletoe now comes from the apple orchards of Herefordshire. Normandy sends a great deal of mistletoe to England and to our country. The strange parasite is also found on the linden, poplar, and white-thorn. When once the seed is lodged, it drives its roots deep into the branch and draws sap and nourishment from the tree. The European variety is known as _Viscum album_ and is much forked. In the United States the ordinary mistletoe is known as _Phoradendron_ and grows on various hardwood trees in many of the Southern States.

There is something curiously interesting about the mistletoe. It is not beautiful, the leaves are irregular and often stained and broken, the berries fall almost when looked at and the plant is stiff and woody; yet for all that there is a peculiar quality in the greenish white and waxy berries and the shape of the forked twig that makes us think of divining-rods and magical words. It has a mystic fascination for us. Shakespeare's only reference speaks of it as _baleful_: _Tamora_ says in "Titus Andronicus":[88]

The trees, through summer, yet forlorn and lean,
O'ercome with moss and baleful mistletoe.

[88] Act II, Scene III.

BOX (_Buxus sempervirens_). Shakespeare mentions the box once--when _Sir Toby Belch_ and _Sir Andrew Aguecheek_ and the _Clown_ are in _Olivia's_ garden and _Maria_, running out to tell them that _Malvolio_ is coming, excitedly cries:

Get ye all three into the box-tree.[89]

[89] "Twelfth Night"; Act II, Scene V.

Every one knows how important a feature the box-bush is in English gardens and in the old American gardens that were planted after English models.

So fine in color, so deep and luxuriant in foliage, so dignified and aristocratic in its atmosphere the name box is almost synonymous with old gardens. Its acrid yet aromatic scent--most delicious after rain--is one of its characteristics.

Greek myth consecrated the box to Pluto, and the plant was said to be symbolical of the life in the Underworld which continues all the year. The ancients used it to border their flower-beds, and probably the great use of box in England comes from the Roman times. The wood was used for delicate inlay in the days of the Renaissance and also for making musical instruments.

Box is thought to be the assur-wood of the Bible. There is authority for using greenery in church decoration for in Isaiah we read: "The glory of Lebanon shall come unto thee; the fir-tree, the pine-tree, and the box together to beautify the place of my sanctuary; and I will make the places of my feet glorious."[90]

[90] Chap. LX, v. 13.

To dream of box, according to the astrologers of Shakespeare's time, signified a happy marriage, long life, and prosperity.

Box was used for decoration in the Tudor and Stuart days and succeeded the Christmas garlands, as Herrick sings in the time of Charles I, at Candlemas (February 2):

Down with the Rosemary and Bays,
Down with the Mistletoe,
Instead of Holly now upraise
The greener Box for show.

The Holly hitherto did sway,
Let Box now domineer
Until the dancing Easter Day
On Easter eve appear.

The youthful Box which now hath grace
Your houses to renew,
Grown old, surrender must his place
Unto the crispèd Yew.

When Yew is out, then Birch comes in,
And many flowers beside,
Both of a fresh and fragrant kin
To honor Whitsuntide.

Green rushes then and sweetest Bents,
With cooler oaken boughs
Come in for comely ornaments
To re-adorn the house.

Thus a constant succession of decorative flowers and evergreens appeared in the houses of Old England. Every season had its appropriate flowers, each and all emblematical. It was also the same in the Church. An English writer remarks:

"Mindful of the Festivals which our Church prescribes, I have sought to make these objects of floral nature the timepieces of my religious calendar and the mementos of the hastening period of my mortality. Thus, I can light my taper to our Virgin Mother in the blossoming of the white Snowdrop, Which opens its flower at the time of Candlemas; the Lady's Smock and Daffodil remind me of the Annunciation; the blue Harebell of the Festival of St. George; the Ranunculus of the Invention of the Cross; the Scarlet Lychnis of St. John the Baptist's day; the White Lily of the Visitation of Our Lady; the Virgin's Bower of the Assumption; and Michaelmas, Martinmas, Holy Rood and Christmas have all their appropriate decorations."