Folk-lore of Shakespeare: Chapter VIII. Plants

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CHAPTER VIII.

PLANTS.

That Shakespeare possessed an extensive knowledge of the history and superstitions associated with flowers is evident, from even only a slight perusal of his plays. Apart from the extensive use which he has made of these lovely objects of nature for the purpose of embellishing, or adding pathos to, passages here and there; he has also, with a master hand, interwoven many a little legend or superstition, thereby infusing an additional force into his writings. Thus we know with what effect he has made use of the willow in "Othello," in that touching passage where Desdemona (iv. 3), anticipating her death, relates how her mother had a maid called Barbara—

In a similar manner, Shakespeare has frequently introduced the notice of flowers with a wonderful aptness, as in the case of poor Ophelia. Those, however, desirous of gaining a good insight into Shakespeare's knowledge of flowers, as illustrated by his plays, would do well to consult Mr Ellacombe's exhaustive work on the "Plant-Lore of Shakespeare," a book to which we are much indebted in the following pages, as also to Mr Biesly's "Shakspere's Garden."

Aconite. 1—This plant from the deadly virulence of its juice, which, Mr Turner says, "is of all poysones the most hastie

poysone," is compared by Shakespeare to gunpowder, as in "2 Henry IV." (iv. 4)—

It is probably, too, alluded to in the following passage in "Romeo and Juliet" (v. 1), were Romeo says—

According to Ovid, it derived its name from growing upon rock (Metam. vii. 419)—

It is probably derived from the Greek ἀκόνιτον, without a struggle, in allusion to the intensity of its poisonous qualities. Virgil 1 speaks of it, and tells us "how the aconite deceives the wretched gatherers, because often mistaken for some harmless plant. 2 The ancients fabled it as the invention of Hecate, 3 who caused the plant to spring from the foam of Cerberus, when Hercules dragged him from the gloomy regions of Pluto. Ovid pictures the stepdame as preparing a deadly potion of aconite, (Metam. i. I47)—

In hunting the ancients poisoned their arrows with this venomous plant, as "also when following their mortal brutal trade of slaughtering their fellow creatures. 4* Numerous instances are on record of the fatal results through persons eating this

plant. In the "Philosophical Transactions" (1732, vol. 38), we read of a man who was poisoned in that year, by eating some of it in a salad, instead of celery. Dr Turner mentions the case of some Frenchmen at Antwerp, who eating the shoots of this plant for masterwort, all died, with the exception of two, in forty-eight hours. The aconitum is equally pernicious to animals.

Anemone.—This favourite flower of early spring is probably alluded to in the following passage of "Venus and Adonis"—

According to Bion, it is said to have sprung from the tears that Venus wept over the body of Adonis—

Other classical writers make the anemone to be the flower of Adonis. Mr Ellacombe, 1 says that although Shakespeare does not actually name the anemone, yet the evidence is in favour of this plant. The "purple colour," he adds, 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. 2

Apple.—Although Shakespeare has so frequently introduced the apple into his Plays, yet he has abstained from alluding to the extensive folk-lore associated with this favourite fruit.

Indeed, beyond mentioning some of the popular nicknames by which the apple was known in his day, little is said about it. The term apple 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, pine-apple, &c." 1 So when Shakespeare ("Sonnet" xciii.), makes mention of Eve's apple, he simply means that it was some fruit that grew in Eden—

(a.) The "Apple-john," called in France deux-années or deux-ans, because it will keep two years, and considered to be in perfection when shrivelled and withered, 2 is evidently spoken of in "1 Henry IV." (iii. 3) where Falstaff says—"My skin hangs about me like an old lady's loose gown; I am withered like an old apple-john." In "2 Henry IV." (ii. 4) there is a further. allusion—"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.'" This apple, too, is well described by Phillips ("Cider," B. i.)—

In Ben Jonson's "Bartholomew Fair" (i. 1) where Little-wit encourages Quarlus to kiss his wife, he says, "she may call you an apple-john if you use this." "Here apple-john 3 evidently means a procuring John, besides the allusion to the fruit so called. 4

(b.) The "Bitter-sweet or sweeting" to which Mercutio alludes in "Romeo and Juliet" (ii. 4)—"Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most sharp sauce;" was apparently a

favourite apple, which furnished many allusions to poets. Gower in his "Confessio Amantis" (1554, fol. 174) speaks of it—

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." 1

(c.) The "Crab" roasted before the fire and put into ale was a very favourite indulgence, especially at Christmas, in days gone by, and is referred to in the song of winter in "Love's Labour's Lost" (v. 2)—

The beverage thus formed was called "Lambs-wool," and generally consisted of ale, nutmeg, sugar, toast, and roasted crabs, or apples. It formed the ingredient of the wassail-bowl; 2 and also of the gossip's bowl 3 alluded to in "Midsummer Night's Dream" (ii. 1) where Puck says—

In Peele's "Old Wives' Tale," it is said—

And in Herrick's "Poems"—

(d.) The "Codling," spoken of by Malvolio in "Twelfth Night," (i. 5), "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,"—is not the variety now so-called, but was the popular term for an immature apple, such as would require cooking to be eaten, being derived from "coddle," to stew or boil lightly,—hence it denoted a boiling apple, an apple for coddling or boiling. 1 Mr Gifford 2 says that codling was used by our old writers for that early state of vegetation when the fruit, after shaking off the blossom, began to assume a globular and determinate form.

(e). The "Leather Coat" was the apple generally known as "the golden russeting." 3 Davy, in "2 Henry IV," (v. 3), says:—"There's a dish of leather coats for you."

(f.) The "Pippin" was formerly a common term for an apple, to which reference is made in "Hudibras Redivivus," (1705),—

In Taylor's Workes 4 (1630), we read:—

Mr Ellacombe 5 says the word "pippin" denoted an apple raised from pips and not from grafts, and "is now, and probably was in Shakespeare's time, confined to the bright-coloured long-keeping apples of which the golden pippin is the type." Justice Shallow, in "2 Henry IV," (v. 3), says:—"Nay, you shall see my orchard, where in an arbour we will eat a last year's pippin of my own graffing."

(g.) The "Pomewater" was a species of apple evidently of a juicy nature, and hence of high esteem in Shakespeare's time, for in "Love's Labour's Lost," (iv. 2), Holofernes says:—"The deer was, as you know, sanguis, in blood; ripe as the pomewater, who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of

cœlo,—the sky, the welkin, the heaven; and anon falleth like a crab on the face of terra,—the soil, the land, the earth."

Parkinson 1 tells us the "Pomewater is an excellent, good, and great whiteish apple, full of sap or moisture, somewhat pleasant sharp, but a little bitter withal; it will not last long, the winter's frost soon causing it to rot and perish.

It appears that apples and carraways were formerly always eaten together; and it is said that they are still served up on. particular days at Trinity College, Cambridge. This practice is probably alluded to by Justice Shallow in the much disputed passage in "2 Henry IV.," (iii. 5), when he speaks of eating "a last year's pippin, with a dish of caraways." The phrase, too, seems further explained by the following quotations from Cogan's "Haven of Health," (1599). After stating the virtues of the seed, and some of its uses, he says:—"For the same purpose careway seeds are used to be made in comfits, and to be eaten with apples, and surely very good for that purpose, for all such things as breed wind would be eaten with other things that break wind." Again, in his chapter on apples, he says:—"Howbeit wee are wont to eat carrawaies or biskets, or some other kind of comfits, or seeds together with apples, thereby to breake winde ingendred by them, and surely this is a verie good way for students." Mr Ellacombe, 2 however, considers that in "the dish of carraways" mentioned by Justice Shallow, neither caraway seeds, nor cakes made of caraways, are meant; but the carraway or carraway-russet apple. Most of the commentators are in favour of one of the former explanations. Mr Dyce 3 reads caraways in the sense of comfits or confections made with caraway-seeds, and quotes from Shadwell's "Woman-Captain" the following:—"The fruit, crab-apples, sweetings, and horse-plumbs; and for confections, a few carraways in a small sawcer, as if his worship's house had been a lousie inn."

Apricot. This word, which is spelt by Shakespeare "Apricock,"

occurs in "Richard II.," (iii. 4), where the gardener says:—

And in "A Midsummer Night's Dream" (iii. i), Titania gives directions:—

The spelling "Apricock," 1 is derived from the Latin præcox, or præcoquus; and it was called "the precocious tree" because it flowered and fruited earlier than the peach. The term "Apricock" is still in use in Northamptonshire.

Aspen,—According to a mediæval legend, the perpetual motion of this tree dates from its having supplied the wood of the Cross, and that its leaves have trembled ever since at the recollection of their guilt. De Quincey in his essay on "Modern Superstition" says, that this belief is co-extensive with Christendom. The following verses, 2 after telling how other trees were passed by in the choice of wood for the Cross, describe the hewing down of the aspen, and the dragging of it from the forest to Calvary—

The Germans, says Mr Henderson, have a theory of their own, embodied in a little poem, which may be thus translated:—

Another legend tells us 1 that the aspen was said to have been the tree on which Judas hanged himself after the betrayal of his Master, and ever since its leaves have trembled with shame. Shakespeare twice alludes to the trembling of the aspen. In "Titus Andronicus" (ii. 4), Marcus exclaims:—

And in "2 Henry IV." (ii. 4), the hostess says:—"Feel, masters, how I shake. Yea, in very truth, do I, an ’twere an aspen leaf."

Bachelor's Buttons.—This was a name given to several flowers, and perhaps in Shakespeare's time was more loosely applied to any flower in bud. It is now usually understood to be a double variety of ranunculus; according to others, the Lychnis Sylvestris; and in some counties it is applied to the Scabiosa Succisa. 2 According to Gerarde, this plant was so called from the similitude of its flowers "to the jagged cloathe buttons, anciently worne in this kingdome." It was formerly supposed by country people to have some magical effect upon the fortunes of lovers. Hence, it was customary for young people to carry its flowers in their pockets, judging of their good or bad success, in proportion as these retained or lost their freshness. It is to this sort of divination that Shakespeare probably refers in "Merry Wives of Windsor" (iii. 2) where he makes the hostess say:—"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." Mr Warter, in one of his notes in Southey's "Common-Place Book" (1851, 4th series 244) says that this

practice was common in his time, in Shropshire and Staffordshire. The term "to wear bachelor's buttons," seems to have grown into a phrase for being unmarried. 1

Balm.—From very early times, the balm or balsam has been valued for its curative properties, and, as such, is alluded to in "Troilus and Cressida" (i. 1)—

In "3 Henry VI." (iv. 8) King Henry says 2—

Alcibiades, in "Timon of Athens" (iii. 5), says—

Macbeth, too, in the well-known passage (ii. 2), introduces it—

As the oil of consecration, 3 it is spoken of by Richard ("Richard II.," iii. 2)—

And again, in "3 Henry VI." (iii. 1), King Henry, when in disguise, speaks thus—

The origin of balsam, says Mr Ellacombe 4 "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."

Barley.—The barley broth, of which the Constable in "Henry V." (iii. 5) spoke so contemptuously as the food of English soldiers, was probably beer, 1 which long before the time of Henry was so celebrated that it gave its name to the plant (barley being simply the beer-plant)—

Bay-tree.—The withering and death of this tree were reckoned a prognostic of evil, both in ancient and modern times, a notion 2 to which Shakespeare refers in "Richard II." (ii. 4)—

—having obtained it probably from Holinshed, who says—"In this yeare, in a manner throughout all the realme of Englande, old baie trees withered." Lupton, in his "Syxt Booke of Notable Things," mentions this as a bad omen—"Neyther falling-sickness, neyther devyll, wyll infest or hurt one in that place whereas a bay-tree is. The Romaynes call it the plant of the good angel." 3

Camomile.—It was formerly imagined that this plant grew the more luxuriantly for being frequently trodden or pressed down; a notion alluded to in "1 Henry IV." (ii. 4), by Falstaff—"For though the camomile, the more it is trodden on the faster it grows, yet youth, the more it is wasted the sooner it wears." Nares 4 considers that the above was evidently written in ridicule of the following passage, in a book very fashionable in Shakespeare's day, Lyly's "Euphues," of which it is a parody—"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," &c.

Clover.—According to Johnson, the "honey-stalks" in the following passage ("Titus Andronicus," iv. 4), are "clover-flowers, which contain a sweet juice." It is not uncommon for cattle to overcharge themselves with clover and die, hence the allusion by Tamora—

Columbine.—This was anciently termed "a thankless flower," and was also emblematical of forsaken lovers. It is somewhat doubtful to what Ophelia alludes in "Hamlet" (iv. 5), where she seems to address the king—

Perhaps she regarded it as symbolical of ingratitude:

Crow-flowers.—This name, which in Shakespeare's time was applied to the "ragged robin," is now used for the buttercup. It was one of the flowers that poor Ophelia wove into her garland ("Hamlet" iv. 7)—

Cuckoo-buds.—Commentators are uncertain as to what flower Shakespeare refers in "Love's Labour's Lost," (v. 2):—

Mr Miller, in his "Gardener's Dictionary," says that the flower here alluded to is the "Ranunculus Bulbosus"; but Mr Beisly, in his "Shakspere's Garden," considers it to be the "Ranunculus Ficaria," (lesser celandine), or pile-wort, as this flower appears earlier in spring, and is in bloom at the same time as the other flowers named in the song. Mr Swinfen Jervis, however, in his "Dictionary of the Language of Shakespeare" (1868), decides in favour of cowslips 1; and

1 says, the ragged robin is meant, a well-known meadow and marsh plant, with rose-coloured flowers and deeply-cut narrow segments. It blossoms at the time the cuckoo comes, hence one of its names. In "King Lear," (iv. 4), Cordelia narrates how:—

Cypress.—From the earliest times the cypress has had a mournful history, being associated with funerals and churchyards, and as such is styled by Spenser "cypress funereal."

In Quarles's "Argalus and Parthenia," (1726, bk. iii.), a knight is introduced whose

Formerly coffins were frequently made of cypress wood, a practice to which Shakespeare probably alludes in "Twelfth Night," (ii. 4), where the clown says:—"In sad cypress let me be laid. Some, however, prefer 2 understanding cypress to mean "a shroud of cyprus or cypress,"—a fine transparent stuff, similar to crape, either white or black, but more commonly the latter. 3 Douce 4 thinks that the expression "laid"

seems more applicable to a coffin than to a shroud, and also adds that the shroud is afterwards expressly mentioned by itself.

Daffodil.—The daffodil of Shakespeare is the wild daffodil which grows so abundantly in many parts of England. Perdita, in "Winter's Tale," (iv. 4), mentions a little piece of weather-lore, and tells us how—

And Autolycus in the same play (iv. 3), sings thus:—

Darnel.—This plant, like the cockle, was used in Shakespeare's day to denote any hurtful weed. Newton, 1 in his "Herbal to the Bible," says that "under the name of cockle and darnel is comprehended all vicious, noisome, and unprofitable graine, encombring and hindering good corne." Thus Cordelia, in "King Lear," (iv. 4), says:—

According to Gerarde, "darnel hurteth the eyes, and maketh them dim, if it happen either in corne for breade, or drinke." Hence, it is said, originated the old proverb, "lolio victitare,"—applied to such as were dim-sighted. Steevens considers that Pucelle in the following passage from "1 Henry VI.," (iii. 2), alludes to this property of the darnel—meaning to intimate that the corn she carried with her had produced the same effect on the guards of Rouen; otherwise they would have seen through her disguise, and defeated her stratagem:—

Date.—This fruit of the palm-tree was once a common

ingredient in all kinds of pastry, and some other dishes, and often supplied a pun for comedy, as for example, in "All's Well that End's Well" (i. 1), where Parolles says:—"Your date is better in your pie and your porridge, than in your cheek." And in "Troilus and Cressida" (i. 2):—"Ay, a minced man; and then to be baked with no date in the pye; for then the man's date's out."

Ebony.—The wood of this tree was regarded as the typical emblem of darkness—the tree itself, however, was unknown in this country in Shakespeare's time. It is mentioned in "Love's Labour's Lost" (iv. 3)—

In the same play we read of "the ebon-coloured ink" (i. 1), and in "Venus and Adonis" (948), of "Death's Ebon Dart."

Elder.—This plant whilst surrounded by an extensive folklore, has from time immemorial possessed an evil reputation, and been regarded as one of bad omen. According to a popular tradition "Judas was hanged on an elder,"—a superstition mentioned by Biron in "Love's Labour's Lost" (v. 2); and also by Ben Jonson in "Every Man Out of Humour" (iv. 4)—"He shall be your Judas, and you shall be his elder-tree to hang on." In "Piers Plowman's Vision" (1. 593–6), we are told how—

So firmly rooted was this belief in days gone by that Sir John Mandeville tells us in his travels, which he wrote in 1364, that he was actually shown the identical tree at Jerusalem, "And faste by is zit, the tree of Elder that Judas henge himself upon, for despeyr that he hadde when he solde and betrayed oure Lord." This tradition no doubt, in a great measure, helped to give it its bad fame; causing it to be spoken of as "the stinking elder." Shakespeare makes

it an emblem of grief. In "Cymbeline" (iv. 2) Arviragus says—

The Dwarf Elder 1 (Sambucus Ebulus) is said only to grow where blood has been shed either in battle or in murder. The Welsh call it "Llysan gward gwyr," or "plant of the blood of man." Shakespeare perhaps had this piece of folklore in mind when he represents Bassianus, in "Titus and Andronicus" (ii. 4), as killed at a pit beneath an elder tree—"This is the pit and this the elder tree."

Eryngoes.—These were formerly said to be strong pro-vocatives, and as such are mentioned by Falstaff in "Merry Wives of Windsor" (v. 5). "Let the sky rain potatoes; let it thunder to the tune of Green Sleeves, hail kissing comfits, and snow eryngoes." Mr Ellacombe 2 thinks that in this passage the Globe Artichoke is meant, "which is a near ally of the Eryngium, and was a favourite dish in Shakespeare's time."

Fennel.—This was generally considered as an inflammatory herb; and to eat "conger and fennel" was "to eat two high and hot things together," which was an act of libertinism. 3* Thus in "2 Henry IV." (ii. 4) Falstaff says of Poins he "eats conger and fennel." Mr Beisly states 4 that fennel was used as a sauce with fish hard of digestion, being aromatic, and as the old writers term it, "hot in the third degree." One of the herbs distributed by poor Ophelia in her distraction is fennel which she offers either as a cordial or as an emblem of flattery—"There's fennel for you, and columbine."

Mr Staunton, however, considers that fennel here signifies lust, while Mr Beisly thinks its reputed property of clearing the sight is alluded to. It is more probable that it denotes

flattery; especially, as in Shakespeare's time, it was regarded emblematical of flattery. In this sense it is often quoted by old writers. In Greene's "Quip for an Upstart Courtier," we read—"Fennell I meane for flatterers." In "Phyala Lachrymarum" 1 we find—

Fern.—According to a curious notion fern-seed was supposed to possess the power of rendering persons invisible. Hence it was a most important object of superstition, being gathered mystically, especially on Midsummer Eve. It was believed at one time to have neither flower nor seed; the seed, which lay on the back of the leaf, being so small as to escape the detection of the. hasty observer. On this account, probably, proceeding on the fantastic doctrine of signatures, our ancestors derived the notion that those who could obtain and wear this invisible seed would be themselves invisible; a belief which is referred to in "1 Henry IV." (ii. 1)—

This superstition is mentioned by many old writers; a proof of its popularity in times past. It is alluded to in Beaumont and Fletcher's "Fair Maid of the Inn" (i. 1)—

Again, in Ben Jonson's "New Inn" (i. 1)—

As recently as Addison's day, we are told in the "Tatler" (No. 240), that "it was impossible to walk the streets without having an advertisement thrust into your hand of a doctor

who had arrived at the knowledge of the green and red dragon, and had discovered the female fern-seed." 1

Fig—Formerly the term fig served as a common expression of contempt, and was used to denote a thing of the least importance. Hence the popular phrase, "not to care a fig for one;" a sense in which it is sometimes used by Shakespeare, who makes Pistol say, in "Merry Wives of Windsor" (i. 3), "a fico for the phrase;" and in "Henry V." (iii. 6), Pistol exclaims, "figo for thy friendship." In "Othello" (i. 3), Iago says, "Virtue! a fig."

The term, "to give or make the fig," as an expression of insult, has for many ages been very prevalent among the nations of Europe, and according to Douce 2 was known to the Romans. It consists in thrusting the thumb between two of the closed fingers, or into the mouth, a practice, as some say, 3 in allusion to a contemptuous punishment inflicted on the Milanese, by the Emperor Frederic Barbarossa in 1162, when he took their city. This, however, is altogether improbable, the real origin no doubt being a coarse w representation of a disease, to which the name of ficus or fig has always been given. 4

The "fig of Spain" spoken of in "Henry V." (iii. 6), may either allude to the poisoned fig employed in Spain as a secret way of destroying an obnoxious person, as in Webster's "White Devil" 5—

And in Shirley's "Brothers" 6—

It may, as Mr Dyce remarks, 1 simply denote contempt or insult in the sense already mentioned.

Flower-de-luce.—The common purple iris which adorns our gardens is now generally agreed upon as the fleur-de-luce, a corruption of fleur de Louis—being spelt either fleur-de-lys or fleur-de-lis. It derives its name from Louis VII., King of France, who chose this flower as his heraldic emblem when setting forth on his crusade to the Holy Land. It had already been used by the other French kings, and by the emperors of Constantinople; but it is still a matter of dispute among antiquarians as to what it was originally intended to represent. Some say a flower, some a toad, some a halbert-head. It is uncertain as to what plant is referred to by Shakespeare when he alludes to the fleur-de-luce in the following passage 2 in "2 Henry VI." (v. 1) where the Duke of York says—

In "1 Henry VI." (i. 2), Pucelle declares—

Some think the lily is meant, others the iris. For the lily theory, says Mr Ellacombe, 3 "there are the facts that Shakespeare calls it one of the lilies, and that the other way of spelling is fleur-de-lys."

Chaucer seems to connect it with the lily (C. T. Prol, 238)—

On the other hand, Spenser separates the lilies from the flower-de-lutes in his "Shepherd's Calendar;" and Ben Jonson mentions "rich carnations, flower-de-luces, lilies."

The fleur-de-lis was not always confined to royalty as a badge. Thus in the square of La Pucelle, in Rouen, there is

a statue of Jeanne D’Arc with fleur-de-lys sculptured upon it, and an inscription as follows:—

St Louis conferred upon the Chateaubriands the device of a fleur-de-lis, and the motto, "Mon sang teint les bannièrs de France." When Edward III. claimed the crown of France, in the year 1340, he quartered the ancient shield of France with the lions of England. It disappeared, however, from the English shield in the first year of the present century.

Gillifower.—This was the old name for the whole class of carnations, pinks, and sweet-williams, from the French girofle, which is itself corrupted from the Latin cariophyllum. 1 The streaked gillyflowers, says Mr Beisly, 2 noticed by Perdita in "Winter's Tale" (iv. 4)—

"are produced by the flowers of one kind being impregnated by the pollen of another kind, and this art (or law) in nature Shakspere alludes to in the delicate language used by Perdita, as well as to the practice of increasing the plants by slips." Tusser, in his "Five Hundred Points of Good Husbandry," says—

Harebell.—This flower, mentioned in "Cymbeline" (iv. 2), is no doubt another name for the wild hyacinth.

Arviragus says of Imogen—

Hemlock.—In consequence of its bad and poisonous character, this plant was considered an appropriate ingredient for

witches’ broth. In "Macbeth," (iv. 1), we read of "root of hemlock digg’d i’ the dark." Its scientific name, conium, is from the Greek word meaning cone or top, whose whirling motion resembles the giddiness produced on the constitution by its poisonous juice. It is by most persons supposed to be the death-drink of the Greeks, and the one by which Socrates was put to death.

Herb of Grace or Herb Grace.—A popular name in days gone by for rue. The origin of the term is uncertain. Most probably it arose from the extreme bitterness of the plant, which, as it had always borne the name rue (to be sorry for anything), was not unnaturally associated with repentance. It was, therefore, the herb of repentance, 1" and this was soon changed into 'herb of grace,' repentance being the chief sign of grace." The expression is several times used by Shakespeare. In "Richard II." (iii. 4), the gardener narrates—

In "Hamlet" (iv. 5), Ophelia, when addressing the queen, says, "There's rue for you; and here's some for me: we may call it herb-grace o’ Sundays: O, you must wear your rue with a difference." 2

Malone observes that there is no ground for supposing that rue was called "herb of grace" from its being used in exorcisms in churches on Sunday, a notion entertained by Jeremy Taylor, who says, referring to the Flagellum Dæmonum, "First, they (the Romish exorcisers) are to try the devil by holy water, incense, sulphur, rue, which from thence, as we suppose, came to be called "herb of grace." 3 Rue was also a common subject of puns, from being the

same word which signified sorrow or pity (see "Richard II." iii. 4 cited above).

Holy Thistle.—The Carduus Benedictus, called also "blessed thistle," was so named, like other plants which bear the specific name of "blessed," from its supposed power of counteracting the effect of poison. 1 Cogan, in his "Haven of Health," 1595, says, "This herbe may worthily be called Benedictus, or Omnimorbia, that is, a salve for every sore, not known to physitians of old time, but lately revealed by the special providence of almighty God." It is alluded to in "Much Ado about Nothing" (iii. 4)—

Insane Root.—There is much doubt as to what plant is meant by Banquo in "Macbeth" (i. 3)—

The origin of this passage is probably to be found in North's "Plutarch—Life of Antony," 1579 (p. 990), where mention is made of a plant which "made them out of their wits." Several plants have been suggested—the hemlock, belladonna, mandrake, henbane, &c. Douce supports the last, and cites the following passage 2:—"Henbane . . . is called insana, mad, for the use thereof is perillous; for if it be eate or dronke, it breedeth madness, or slow lykenesse of sleepe." Nares 3 quotes from Ben Jonson ("Sejanus" iii. 2), in support of hemlock—

Ivy.—It was formerly the general custom in England, as it is still in France and the Netherlands, to hang a bush of ivy at the door of a vintner. Hence the allusion in "As You Like It" (v. 4, Epilogue), where Rosalind wittingly remarks, "If it be true that good wine needs no bush, ’tis true that a good play needs no epilogue." This custom is often referred to by our old writers, as, for instance, in Nash's "Summer's Last Will and Testament; 1" 1600—

And in the "Rival Friends," 1632—

This plant was no doubt chosen from its being sacred to Bacchus. The practice was observed at statute hirings, wakes, &c., by people who sold ale at no other time. The manner, says Mr Singer, 2 in which they were decorated appears from a passage in Florio's "Italian Dictionary," in voce trcmola, "Gold foile, or thin leaves of gold or silver, namely, thinne plate, as our vintners adorn their bushes with." We may compare the old sign of "An owl in an ivy bush," which perhaps denoted the union of wisdom or prudence with conviviality, as "be merry and wise."

Kecksies.—These are the dry hollow stalks of hemlock. In "Henry V." (v. 2), Burgundy makes use of the word:—

It has been suggested 3 that kecksies may be a mistaken form of the plural kex; and that kex may have been formed from keck, something so dry that the eater would keck at it, or be unable to swallow it. The word is probably derived from the Welsh "cecys," which is applied to several plants of the umbelliferous kind. Dr Prior, 4 however, says that kecksies is from an old English word keek, or kike, retained in the northern counties in the sense of "peep" or "spy."

Knotgrass. 1—The allusion to this plant in "A Midsummer Night's Dream" (iii. 2):—

refers to its supposed power of hindering the growth of any child or animal, when taken in an infusion, a notion alluded to by Beaumont and Fletcher ("Coxcombe" ii. 2):—

In "The Knight of the Burning Pestle" (ii. 2), we read:—"The child's a fatherless child, and say they should put him into a strait pair of gaskins, ’twere worse than knot-grass; he would never grow after it."

Lady Smocks.—This plant is so-called from the resemblance of its white flowers to little smocks hung out to dry ("Love's Labour's Lost" v. 2), as they used to be at that season of the year especially:—

According to another explanation, the lady's smock is a corruption of "Our Lady's Smock," so called from its first flowering about Lady-tide. This plant has also been called cuckoo-flower, because, as Gerarde says, "it flowers in April and May when the cuckoo doth begin to sing her pleasant notes without stammering."

Laurel.—From the very earliest times this classical plant has been regarded as symbolical of victory, and used for crowns. In "Titus Andronicus" (i. 1), Titus says:—

And in "Antony and Cleopatra" (v. 3), the latter exclaims:—

Leek.—The first of March is observed by the Welsh in honour of St David, their patron saint, when, as a sign of their patriotism, they wear a leek. Much doubt exists as to the origin of this custom. According to the Welsh, it is because St David ordered his Britons to place leeks in their caps, that they might be distinguished in fight from their Saxon foes. Shakespeare in "Henry V." (iv. 7), alludes to the custom when referring to the battle of Cressy. Fluellen says:—"If your majesties is remembered of it, the Welshmen did good service in a garden where leeks did grow, wearing leeks in their Monmouth caps, which your majesty know to this hour is an honourable badge of the service; and I do believe your majesty takes no scorn to wear the leek upon Saint Tavy's Day." 1 Dr Owen Pughe 2 supposes the custom arose from the practice of every farmer contributing his leek to the common repast when they met at the Cymmortha, an association by which they reciprocated assistance in ploughing the land. Anyhow, the subject is one involved in complete uncertainty, and the various explanations given are purely conjectural (see page 284).

Lily.—Although so many pretty legends and romantic superstitions have. clustered round this sweet and favourite flower, yet they have escaped the notice of Shakespeare, who, whilst attaching to it the choicest epithets, has simply made it the type of elegance and beauty, and the symbol of purity and whiteness.

Long Purples.—This plant mentioned by Shakespeare in "Hamlet" (iv. 7) as forming part of the nosegay of poor Ophelia, is generally considered to be the early purple orchis (orchis mascula) which blossoms in April or May. It grows in meadows and pastures, and is about ten inches high. Tennyson ("A Dirge") uses the name—

Another term applied by Shakespeare to this flower was

In "Flowers from Stratford-on-Avon" it is said "there can be no doubt that the wild arum is the plant alluded to by Shakespeare," but there seems no authority for this statement.

Love-in-Idleness, or, with more accuracy, Love-in-Idle, 1 is one of the many nicknames of the pansy or heart’s-ease—a term said to be still in use in Warwickshire. It occurs in "Midsummer Night's Dream" (ii. 1) 2 where Oberon says—

The phrase literally signifies love in vain, or to no purpose, as Taylor alludes to it in the following couplet:—

That flowers, and pansies especially, were used as love-philtres, 3 or for the object of casting a spell over people in Shakespeare's day, is shown in the passage already quoted, where Puck and Oberon amuse themselves at Titania's expense. Again, a further reference occurs (iv. 1) where the king removes the spell—

"It has been suggested," says Mr Aldis Wright, 3 "that the device employed by Oberon to enchant Titania by anointing her eyelids with the juice of a flower, may have been borrowed by Shakespeare from the Spanish Romance of Diana by George of Montemayor. But apart from the difficulty which arises from the fact that no English translation of this romance is known before that published by Young in 1598, there is no necessity to suppose that Shakespeare was indebted to anyone for what must have been a familiar element in all incantations at a time when a belief in witchcraft was common." Percy ("Reliques," iii. b. 2) quotes a receipt by the celebrated astrologer, Dr Dee, for "an ungent to anoynt under the eyelids, and upon the eyelids eveninge and morninge, but especially when you call," that is, upon the fairies. It consisted of a decoction of various flowers.

Mandragora or Mandrake.—No plant, perhaps, has had, at different times, a greater share of folk-lore attributed to it than the mandrake; partly owing probably to the fancied resemblance of its root to the human figure, and the accidental circumstance of man being the first syllable of the word. An inferior degree of animal life was assigned to it; and it was commonly supposed that, when torn from the ground, it uttered groans of so pernicious a character, that the person who committed the violence either went mad or died. In "2 Henry VI." (iii. 2), Suffolk says:—

And Juliet (iv. 3) speaks of—

"The mandrake's flowers
Produce, whose root shews half a man, whose juice
With madness strikes."