CHAPTER I

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Handbooks of Practical Gardening--XII

Edited by Harry Roberts

THE BOOK OF HERBS

[Illustration: JOHN PARKINSON

(_From the statue erected by Mr. H. Thompson at Sefton Park,

Liverpool_)]

THE BOOK OF HERBS

by

LADY ROSALIND NORTHCOTE

[Illustration]

John Lane: The Bodley Head

London and New York. MCMIII

Turnbull & Spears, Printers, Edinburgh

CONTENTS

PAGE

HISTORY OF THE CRIES OF LONDON xi

INTRODUCTION 1

OF THE CHIEF HERBS USED IN THE PRESENT TIME 7

Anise -- Balm -- Sweet Basil and Bush Basil -- Borage -- Bugloss

-- Burnet -- Caraway -- Celery -- Chervil -- Ciboules, Chiboules

or Chibbals -- Cives, or Chives, or Seives -- Coriander -- Cumin

-- Cresses -- Dandelion -- Dill -- Endive -- Fennel -- Goat’s

Beard -- Horse-Radish -- Hyssop -- Lamb’s Lettuce or Corn Salad

-- Marjoram -- Mint -- Mustard -- Parsley -- Sage -- Savory --

Sorrel -- Tarragon -- Thyme -- Viper’s Grass or Scorzonera --

Wood-Sorrel.

OF HERBS CHIEFLY USED IN THE PAST 47

Alexanders -- Angelica -- Blites -- Bloodwort -- Buck’s-horne --

Camomile -- Cardoons -- Clary -- Dittander -- Elecampane --

Fenugreek -- Good King Henry -- Herb-Patience -- Horehound --

Lady’s-smock -- Langdebeefe -- Liquorice -- Lovage -- Mallow --

Marigold -- Pennyroyal -- Purslane -- Ram-ciches -- Rampion --

Rocambole -- Rocket -- London Rocket -- Stonecrop -- Saffron --

Samphire -- Skirrets -- Smallage -- Sweet Cicely -- Tansy --

Thistle.

OF HERBS USED IN DECORATIONS, IN HERALDRY, AND FOR ORNAMENT AND

PERFUMES 102

Bergamot -- Costmary -- Germander -- Gilliflower -- Lavender --

Lavender Cotton -- Meadow-Sweet -- Rosemary -- Rue --

Southernwood -- Wood-ruff -- Wormwood -- Bay.

OF THE GROWING OF HERBS 145

OF HERBS IN MEDICINE 158

OF HERBS AND MAGIC 175

OF HERBS AND BEASTS 188

TUSSER’S LIST 201

AUTHORS REFERRED TO 207

INDEX OF PLANTS 209

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE

1. JOHN PARKINSON (from the statue erected at Sefton Park,

Liverpool, by Mr H. Thompson) _Frontispiece_

2. INITIAL LETTERS FROM TURNER’S “HERBAL” _To face page_ 16

3. SWEET CICELY AND OTHER HERBS „ „ 22

4. POT MARJORAM (from a drawing by Ethel Roskruge) „ „ 32

5. THE LAVENDER WALK AT STRATHFIELDSAYE (Photograph

by F. Mason Good) „ „ 40

6. ANGELICA „ „ 48

7. A FIELD OF ENGLISH RHUBARB AT MESSRS STAFFORD ALLEN

& SONS, AMPTHILL „ „ 60

8. TITLE-PAGE OF GERARD’S “HERBAL” „ „ 86

9. THE ARMS OF SAFFRON WALDEN „ „ 100

10. OLD STILLS AT MR HOOPER’S, COVENT GARDEN „ „ 102

11. BERGAMOT „ „ 120

12. ROSEMARY „ „ 130

13. PLANTATION OF LAVENDER AT MESSRS STAFFORD ALLEN &

SONS, AMPTHILL „ „ 150

14. CHELSEA PHYSIC GARDEN „ „ 158

15. PLANTATION OF POPPIES (_P. Somniferum_) AT MESSRS

STAFFORD ALLEN & SONS, AMPTHILL „ „ 166

16. PLANTATION OF ACONITE AT MESSRS STAFFORD ALLEN &

SONS, AMPTHILL „ „ 172

17. RAMPION „ „ 180

18. FENNEL (Photograph by Dr Banfield Vivian) „ „ 194

HISTORY OF THE CRIES OF LONDON

Here’s fine rosemary, sage and thyme.

Come, buy my ground ivy.

Here’s featherfew, gilliflowers and rue.

Come, buy my knotted marjoram, ho!

Come, buy my mint, my fine green mint.

Here’s fine lavender for your cloaths,

Here’s parseley and winter savory,

And heartsease which all do choose.

Here’s balm and hyssop and cinquefoil,

All fine herbs it is well known.

Let none despise the merry, merry cries

Of famous London Town.

Here’s penny royal and marygolds.

Come, buy my nettle-tops.

Here’s water-cresses and scurvy grass,

Come buy my sage of virtue, ho!

Come, buy my wormwood and mugworts.

Here’s all fine herbs of every sort.

Here’s southernwood that’s very good.

Dandelion and houseleek.

Here’s dragon’s tongue and wood sorrel,

With bear’s-foot and horehound.

Let none despise the merry, merry cries

Of famous London Town.

_Roxburghe Ballads._

THE BOOK OF HERBS

INTRODUCTION

What is a Herb? I have heard many definitions, but never one that

satisfied the questioner, and shall, therefore, take warning by the

failures of others and make no attempt to define the word here. It is,

however, fairly safe to say generally that a herb is a plant, green, and

aromatic and fit to eat, but it is impossible to deny that there are

several undoubted herbs that are not aromatic, a few more grey than

green, and one or two unpalatable, if not unwholesome. So no more space

shall be devoted to discussing their “nature,” but I will endeavour to

present individual ones to the reader as clearly as possible, in order

that from their collective properties he may form his own idea of a

herb. The objection may be raised that several plants included in this

book are outside the subject. To answer this, I would point out that the

boundaries of a herb-garden are indefinite, and that the old writers’

views of them were liberal. Besides this, every garden must have an

outside hedge or wall, and if this imaginary herb-garden has a row of

elder bushes on the East, barberry trees on the West, some bay trees on

the South, and a stray willow or so on the North, who can say that they

are inappropriately placed? The bay and barberry hold an undisputable

position, and the other trees have each an interesting history in

folk-lore, magic and medicine. Herbs have been used in all countries and

from the earliest times, but I have confined myself, as a rule, to those

spoken of by British authors, and used in the British Isles, though not

scrupling to quote foreign beliefs or customs where they give weight or

completeness to our own or our forefathers’ practices, or are themselves

of much interest. We have forgotten much that would be profitable to us.

Mr Dillon, writing in the _Nineteenth Century_, April, 1894, on “A

Neglected Sense”--the sense of smell--describes a Japanese game, the

object of which was that while one of the players burned certain kinds

of incense or fragrant woods, singly or in combination, the others

ventured opinions from the odours arising, and recorded their

conjectures by means of specially marked counters on a board. The

delicate equipment for it included a silver, open-worked brazier; a

spatula, on which the incense was taken up, also of silver, sometimes

delicately inlaid with enamel; and silver-framed mica plates (about one

inch square), on which the incense had been heated, were set to cool on

“a number of medallions, mother-of-pearl, each in the shape of a

chrysanthemum flower or of a maple leaf.”

Both Mr Dillon and Miss Lambert (_Nineteenth Century_, May 1880)

attribute the importance early attached to odours to religious reasons.

He says that it was believed that the gods, being spirits, neither

required nor desired solid offerings, but that the ethereal nature of

the ascending fragrance was gratifying and sustaining to them. Miss

Lambert quotes an account of the tribes of Florida “setting on the tops

of the trees, as offerings to the sun, skins of deer filled with the

best fruits of the country, crowned with flowers and sweet herbs.” Among

the Aztecs of Mexico the festival of the goddess of flowers, Coatlicue,

was kept by Xochenanqui, or traders in flowers. Offerings of “curiously

woven garlands” were made, and it was “forbidden to everyone to smell

the flowers of which they were composed before their dedication to the

goddess.” The Tahitians had the idea that “the scent was the spirit of

the offering and corresponded to the spirit of man,” and therefore they

laid sweet-scented offerings before their dead till burial, believing

that the spirit still hovered near. These instances show clearly the

high regard in which delicate odours were once held.

Herbs and flowers were early used in rites and ceremonies of the Church.

Miss Lambert quotes from a poem of Fortunatus, Bishop of Poitiers. “When

winter binds the earth with ice, all the glory of the field perishes

with its flowers. But in the spring-time when the Lord overcame Hell,

bright grass shoots up and buds come forth.... Gather these first-fruits

and you bear them to the churches and wreath the altars with them till

they glow with colour. The golden crocus is mingled with the purple

violet, dazzling scarlet is relieved by gleaming white, deep blue blends

with green.... One triumphs in its radiant beauty, another conquers by

its sweet perfume; gems and incense bow before them.” In England, the

flowers for the Church were grown under the special care of the

Sacristan, and as early as the ninth century there was a “gardina

sacristæ” at Winchester.[1] Miss Amherst gives a most careful

description of the several gardens into which the whole monastery

enclosures were often divided, and herbs were specially grown in the

kitchen-garden and in the Infirmarian’s garden, the latter, of course,

being devoted to herbs for healing. Many herbs were introduced by the

Romans, among them Coriander, Chervil, Cumin, Featherfew, Fennel,

Lovage, Mallow, Mint, Parsley, Rue and Mustard. Some of these are

supposed to have died out after the Romans withdrew from England and

have been re-introduced, but it is certain that they have been for a

very long time cultivated in England. I cannot refrain from referring to

a miracle, an account of which is quoted by Miss Amherst from Dugdale’s

“Monasticon” (vol. i. p. 473, new ed.), which was wrought at the tomb of

St Etheldreda:--

A “servant to a certain priest was gathering herbs in the garden on the

Lord’s Day, when the wood in her hand, and with which she desired to

pluck the herbs unlawfully, so firmly adhered (to her hand) that no man

could pluck it out for the space of five years.” At the end of this time

she was miraculously healed at the tomb, which was much revered by the

people.

Banks and benches of mould, fronted with stone or brick, and planted on

the top with sweet-smelling herbs, were made in all fifteenth-century

gardens. Later, again, Bacon recommends alleys to be planted with “those

which perfume the air most delightfully being trodden upon and

crushed... to have the pleasure when you walk or tread.” In his “Pastime

of Pleasure” (1554) Stephen Hawes speaks of:--

In divers knottes of marveylous greatnes

Rampande lyons, stode by wonderfully

Made all of herbes, with dulset sweetnes

With many dragons, of marveylous likenes

Of divers floures, made full craftely.

More modern still is the delightful notion of a sun-dial made of herbs

and flowers, that will mark the time of day by the opening and closing

of their blossoms. Linnæus had such a dial, with each plant so placed

that at each successive hour a flower should open or fold up. Ingram[2]

gives an appropriate list for this purpose, beginning with Goats’ Beard,

which he says opens at 3 A.M. and shuts at 9 A.M., and ending with

Chickweed whose stars are not disclosed till 9.15 A.M., when they

display themselves for exactly twelve hours. Andrew Marvell wrote these

pretty lines on this device:--

How well the skilful gardener drew

Of flow’rs and herbs this dial new;

Where, from above the milder sun,

Does through a fragrant zodiack run,

And, as it works, th’ industrious bee

Computes its time as well as we!

How could such sweet and wholesome hours

Be reckon’d but with herbs and flow’rs!

_The Garden._

The _Quarterly_ for June 1842 quotes this charming description of a

garden in which herbs were not disregarded. “Quaint devices of all kinds

are found here. Here is a sun-dial of flowers arranged according to the

time of day at which they open and close. Here are peacocks and lions in

livery of Lincoln green. Here are berceaux and harbours, and covered

alley and enclosures containing the primest of the carnations and cloves

in set order, and miniature canals that carry down a stream of pure

water to the fish ponds below.... From thence (the shrubbery) winds a

path, the deliciæ of the garden, planted with such herbs as yield their

perfume when trodden upon and crushed.... It were tedious to follow up

the long shady path not broad enough for more than two--the lovers’

walk.” The reviewer himself continues in a less sentimental strain, and

his observations make a very proper introduction to a book on Herbs.

“The olitory or herb-garden is a part of our horticulture now

comparatively neglected, and yet once the culture and culling of simples

was as much a part of female education as the preserving and tying down

of ‘rasps and apricocks.’ There was not a Lady Bountiful in the kingdom

but made her dill-tea and diet-drink from herbs of her own planting; and

there is a neatness and prettiness about our thyme, and sage, and mint

and marjoram, that might yet, we think, transfer them from the patronage

of the blue serge to that of the white muslin apron. Lavender and

rosemary, and rue, the feathery fennel, and the bright blue borage, are

all pretty bushes in their way, and might have a due place assigned to

them by the hand of beauty and taste. A strip for a little herbary

half-way between the flower and vegetable garden would form a very

appropriate transition stratum and might be the means, by being more

under the eye of the mistress, of recovering to our soups and salads

some of the comparatively neglected herbs of tarragon, and French

sorrel, and purslane, and chervil, and dill, and clary, and others whose

place is now nowhere to be found but in the pages of the old herbalists.

This little plot should be laid out, of course, in a simple, geometric

pattern; and having tried the experiment, we can boldly pronounce on its

success. We recommend the idea to the consideration of our

lady-gardeners.”

[1] “History of Gardening in England.”

[2] “Flora Symbolica.”

CHAPTER I

OF THE CHIEF HERBS USED IN THE PRESENT TIME

J’ai des bouquets pour tous les goûts;

Venez choisir dans ma corbeille:

De plusieurs les parfums sont doux,

De tous, la vertu sans pareille.

J’ai des _soucis_ pour les galoux;

La _rose_ pour l’amant fidèle;

De _l’éllebore_ pour les tous

Et pour l’amitié l’immortelle.

_La petite Corbeille de fleurs._

Herbs, too, she knew, and well of each could speak

That in her garden sip’d the silv’ry dew;

Where no vain flow’r disclos’d a gaudy streak;

But herbs for use, and physic, not a few,

Of grey renown within those borders grew;

The tufted basil, pun-provoking thyme,

Fresh baum, and mary-gold of cheerful hue;

The lowly gill,[3] that never dares to climb;

And more I fain would sing, disdaining here to rhyme.

Yet euphrasy[4] may not be left unsung,

That gives dim eyes to wander leagues around;

And pungent radish, biting infant’s tongue;

And plantain ribb’d, that heals the reaper’s wound;

And marj’ram sweet, in shepherd’s posie found;

And lavender, whose spikes of azure bloom

Shall be, ere-while, in arid bundles bound

To lurk amidst the labours of her loom,

And crown her kerchiefs clean with mickle rare perfume.

_The Schoolmistress._--SHENSTONE.

John Evelyn once wrote an essay called “Acetaria: a Discourse of

Sallets,” and dedicated it to Lord Somers, the President of the Royal

Society. The Dedication is highly laudatory and somewhat grandiloquent,

comparing the Royal Society to King Solomon’s Temple, and declaring it

established for the acquirement of “solid and useful knowledge by the

_Investigation_ of _Causes_, _Principles_, _Energies_, _Powers_ and

_Effects_ of Bodies and _Things visible_; and to improve them for the

Good and Benefit of Mankind.... And now, _My Lord_, I expect some will

wonder what my Meaning is, to usher in a _Trifle_ with so much

magnificence, and end at last in a fine _Receipt_ for the _dressing_ of

a _Sallet_ with an handful of Pot-herbs! But yet, my Lord, this Subject

as low and despicable as it appears challenges a Part of _Natural

History_; and the Greatest Princes have thought it no disgrace, not only

to make it their _Diversion_, but their _Care_, and to promote and

encourage it in the midst of their weightiest Affairs.” This

disquisition casts an unlooked-for air of dignity over the Salad-bowl!

The discourse itself is very practical, and begins with the _Furniture_

and _Materials_ of which a Salad may be composed. Eighty-two items are

mentioned, but all cannot be called strictly in order, as Oranges,

Turnips, Rosemary, and Judas Tree flowers, and Mushrooms are amongst

them!

In the table at the end of this list Evelyn, “by the assistance of Mr

_London_, His Majesty’s Principal Gardener, reduced them to a competent

number, not exceeding thirty-five,” though he suggests that this may be

“vary’d and enlarg’d by selections from the foregoing list.”

The essay finishes with philosophical reasoning on the subject of

vegetarianism. History is called upon to furnish examples of sages, of

all times, favourably inclined to it, but Noah is allowed to differ on

account of the “humidity of the atmosphere” after the Deluge, which must

have necessitated a generous diet. Most people would think thirty-five

different kinds a liberal allowance for salad herbs alone, but

Abercrombie, writing in 1822, gives forty-four, and it is worthy of

notice, that within the last eighty years, ox-eye daisy, yarrow,

lady’s-smock, primrose and plantain were counted among them.

In this chapter, the herbs mentioned are those chiefly used nowadays; in

the next chapter, these that were favourites _au temps jadis_. It is a

difficult line to draw, for the popularity of many of them is, like

themselves, evergreen, but I have tried to put in the second chapter

those that have passed the zenith of their fame, though they may still

ride high in public estimation.

[3] Ground-ivy.

[4] Eye-bright.

ANISE (_Pimpinella Anisum_).

His chimney side

Could boast no gammon, salted well and dried

And hook’d behind him; but sufficient store

Of bundled anise and a cheese it bore.

_The Salad._ Trans. from “Virgil.”--COWPER.

In Virgil’s time Anise evidently must have been used as a spice. It is a

graceful, umbelliferous plant, a native of Egypt, but the seeds will

ripen in August in England if it is planted in a warm and favourable

situation. Abercrombie[5] says “its chief use is to flavour soups, but

Loudon[6] includes it among confectionery herbs.”

[5] “Every Man his own Gardener.”

[6] “Encyclopædia of Gardening,” 1822.

BALM (_Melissa officinalis_).

The several chairs of order look you scour

With juice of Balm and every precious flower.

_Merry Wives of Windsor_, V. v. 65.

Then Balm and Mint helps to make up

My chaplet.

_The Muses Elysium._--DRAYTON.

My garden grew Self-heal and Balm,

And Speedwell that’s blue for an hour,

Then blossoms again, O, grievous my pain,

I’m plundered of each flower.

_Devonshire Song._

The lemon-scent of Balm makes it almost the most delicious of all herbs,

and it is for its fragrance that Shakespeare and Drayton have alluded to

it in these passages. In the song it is mentioned for another reason,

for the flowers here are used as emblems. The first verse describes a

garden of fair blossoms stolen, alas! from their owner. This verse of

the song shows she has planted flowers whose nature is to

console--Self-heal, Balm and the Speedwell, which, after every shock,

hasten to bloom again, but she is again bereft of her treasures, and

finally despairs and tells us that she grows naught but weeds and the

symbols of desolation. There was once a “restorative cordial” called

Carmelite water, which enjoyed a great reputation, and which was

composed of the spirit of Balm, Angelica root, lemon-peel and nutmeg. In

the early part of the last century, Balm wine was made, and was

described as being “light and agreeable,” but now Balm is seldom used,

except when claret-cup is improved by its flavour. A most curious legend

is told by Aubrey[7] of the Wandering Jew, the scene being on the

Staffordshire moors. “One Whitsun evening, overcome with thirst, he

knocked at the door of a Staffordshire cottager, and craved of him a cup

of small beer. The cottager, who was wasted with a lingering

consumption, asked him in, and gave him the desired refreshment. After

finishing the beer, Ahasuerus asked his host the nature of the disease

he was suffering from, and being told that the doctors had given him up,

said, ‘Friend, I will tell thee what thou shalt do.’ He then told him to

go into the garden the next morning on rising, and gather three Balm

leaves, and to put them into a cup of small beer. He was to drink as

often as he needed, and refill the cup when it was empty, and put in

fresh Balm leaves every fourth day, and, ‘before twelve days shall be

past, thy disease shall be cured and thy body altered.’ So saying, and

declining to eat, he departed and was never seen again. But the cottager

gathered his Balm-leaves, followed the prescription of the Wandering

Jew, and before twelve days were passed was a new man.”

[7] “Miscellanies.”

SWEET BASIL (_Ocymum basilium_) AND BUSH BASIL (_O. minimum_).

Madonna, wherefore hast thou sent to me

Sweet basil and mignonette?

Embleming love and health which never yet

In the same wreath might be.

_To Emilia Viviani._--SHELLEY.

Basil is beloved of the poets, and the story of Isabella and the

Basil-pot keeps the plant in memory, where it is itself never, or very

rarely, seen. The opening lines of Drayton’s pretty poem beginning with

Claia’s speech:--

Here damask roses, white and red,

Out of my lap first take I--

are well known, and it is a pity that the whole of it is not oftener

quoted. Two maidens make rival chaplets, and then examine the store of

simples just gathered by a hermit. Claia chooses her flowers for beauty,

Lelipa hers for scent, and Clarinax, the hermit, plucks his for their

“virtue” in medicine. Lelipa says:--

A chaplet, me, of herbs I’ll make,

Than which, though yours be braver,

Yet this of mine, I’ll undertake,

Shall not be short in favour.

With Basil then I will begin,

Whose scent is wondrous pleasing.

and a goodly number of sweet-herbs follows.

Parkinson[8] says of it, “The ordinary Basill is in a manner wholly

spent to make sweete, or washing waters, among other sweet herbes, yet

sometimes it is put into nosegays. The Physicall properties are to

procure a cheerfull and merry hearte, whereunto the seede is chiefly

used in powder.” With such “physicall properties” Basil is too much

neglected nowadays. He also refers to the extraordinary but very general

idea that it bred scorpions. “Let me, before I leave, relate unto you a

pleasant passage between Francisius Marchio, as Advocate of the State of

_Genoa_ sent in embassage to the Duke of Milan, and the said Duke, who,

refusing to heare his message or to agree unto the conditions proposed,

brought an handfull of Basill and offered it to him, who, demanding of

him what he meant thereby, answered him, that the properties of that

hearbe was, that being gently handled, it gave a pleasant smell, but

being hardly wrung and bruised, would breed scorpions, with which witty

answer the Duke was so pleased that he confirmed the conditions, and

sent him honourably home. It is also observed that scorpions doe much

rest and abide under these pots and vessells wherein Basill is planted.”

Culpepper,[9] too, had suspicions about it. “This is the herb which all

authors are together by the ears about and rail at one another (like

lawyers). Galen and Dioscorides hold it not fitting to be taken

inwardly, and Chrysippus rails at it with downright Billingsgate

rhetoric; Pliny and the Arabians defend it. Something is the matter,

this herb and rue will not grow together, no, nor near one another, and

we know rue is as great an enemy to poison as any that grows.”

Tusser[10] puts both Basils in his list of “strewing herbs,” and also

says:--

Fine basil desireth it may be her lot,

To grow as the gilliflower, trim in a pot;

That ladies and gentles, to whom ye do serve,

May help her, as needeth, poor life to preserve.

_May’s Husbandry._

To which (in Mavor’s edition, 1812) is appended this prim note, “Garden

basil, if stroked, leaves a grateful smell on the hand, and the author

insinuates that it receives fresh life from being touched by a fair

lady.” Both basils are annuals, though Bush Basil may occasionally live

through the winter. They are small plants with oval leaves and white,

labiate flowers. A modern gardener writes that sweet basil has the

flavour of cloves, that it is always demanded by French cooks, and that

it is much used to flavour soups, and occasionally salads. M. de la

Quintinye,[11] director of the gardens to Louis XIV., shows that over

two hundred years ago French cooks were of the same mind about basil as

they are to-day; besides mentioning it for the uses just named, he adds,

“It is likewise used in ragouts, especially dry ones, for which reason

we take care to keep some for winter.” An Italian name for it is

_Bacia-Nicola_.

[8] “Earthly Paradise,” 1629.

[9] English Physitian, popularly known as Culpepper’s Herbal, 1652.

[10] “Five Hundred Points of Good Husbandry.”

[11] The Complete Gardener. Trans. by T. Evelyn, 1693.

BORAGE (_Borago officinalis_).

Here is sweet water, and borage for blending,

Comfort and courage to drink to your fill.

N. HOPPER.

This reference to Borage touches a long-lived belief--

I, borage,

Give courage--

briefly states one reason of its popularity, which has lasted ever since

Pliny praised the plant; besides this, it was supposed to exhilarate the

spirits and drive away melancholy. De Gubernatis[12] only found one

charge against it, amid universal praise, and this is in a Tuscan

_ninnerella_, a cradle song, where it is accused of frightening a baby!

But this evidence is absolutely unsupported by any tradition, and he

considers it worthless. Borage was sometimes called Bugloss by the old

writers.[13] In 1810 Dr Thornton calls it “one of the four grand cardiac

plants,” but shows a lamentable lack of faith himself. Dr Fernie[14]

finds that Borage has a “cucumber-like odour,” and that its reputed

powers of “refreshing” and “invigorating” are not all due to the

imagination; “The fresh juice,” he says, “affords thirty per cent. of

nitrate of potash. Thornton had already commented on the nitre it

contains, and to prove this he advises that the dried plant be thrown on

the fire, when it emits a sort of coruscation, with a slight

detonation.” Personal experience teaches that this is easier to observe

if the plant is set on fire and burned by itself. Borage might be grown

for the sake of its lovely blue flowers alone, and Parkinson gives it a

place in his “Earthly Paradise,” because, though it is “wholly in a

manner spent for Physicall properties or for the Pot, yet the

flowers have alwaies been interposed among the flowers of women’s

needle-work”--a practice which would add to the beauty of modern

embroidery. He adds that the flowers “of gentlewomen are candid

for comfits,” showing that they did not allow sentiment to soar

uncontrolled! Bees love borage, and it yields excellent honey, yet

another reason for growing it. In the early part of the nineteenth

century the young tops were still sometimes boiled for a pot-herb, but

in the present day, if used at all, it is put into claret-cup. Till

quite lately it was an ingredient in “cool tankards” of wine or cider.

[12] _La Mythologie des Plantes._

[13] _Family Herbal_, 1810.

[14] _Herbal Simples_, 1895.

BUGLOSS (_Anchusa officinalis_).

So did the maidens with their various flowers

Deck up their windows, and make neat their bowers;

Using such cunning as they did dispose

The ruddy piny (peony) with the lighter rose,

The monkshood with the bugloss, and entwine

The white, the blue, the flesh-like columbine

With pinks, sweet williams.

_Britannia’s Pastorals, Book II._--W. BROWNE.

A spiny stem of bugloss flowers,

Deep blue upon the outer towers.

_Winchester Castle._--N. HOPPER.

Gerarde put Bugloss in one chapter, and Alkanet or Wild Bugloss in

another, but nowadays Bugloss or Alkanet are names for the same plant,

_Anchusa officinalis_. The drawings of his Bugloss resemble our Alkanet

much more closely than they do any other plant called Bugloss, such as

_Lycopsis arvensis_, small Bugloss, or _Echium vulgare_, Viper’s

Bugloss. The old herbalists, however, were most confusing on the

subject. They apply the name Bugloss alternately to _Borago officinalis_

and to different varieties of _Anchusa_, and then speak of _Buglossum_

as if it were a different species! Evelyn describes it as being “in

nature much like Borage but something more astringent,” and recommends

the flowers of both as a conserve, for they are “greatly restorative.”

As Hogg says that _Anchusa officinalis_ had formerly “a great reputation

as a cordial,” Evelyn’s description applies to this plant; we may take

it that this is the Bugloss he was thinking of. It is a good plant for a

“wild garden,” but has a great tendency to spread. I have found it

growing wild in Cornwall. Gerarde tells us that the roots of _Anchusa

Tinctoria_ were used to colour waters, syrups, and jellies, and then

follows a line of scandal--“The gentlewomen of France doe paint their

faces with these roots, as it is said.” Rouge is still made from

Alkanet.

BURNET (_Poterium Sanguisorba_).

The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth

The freckled Cowslip, Burnet and green Clover.

_Henry V._, V. ii. 48.

Burnet has “two little leives like unto the winges of birdes, standing

out as the bird setteth her winges out when she intendeth to flye....

Y^{e} Duchmen call it Hergottes berdlen, that is God’s little berde,

because of the colour that it hath in the toppe.” This is Turner’s[15]

information. He has a pleasant style, and tells us out-of-the-way facts

or customs in a charming manner. Burnet is the first of the three plants

that Sir Francis Bacon desired to be set in alleys, “to perfume the air

most delightfully, being trodden upon and crushed.” The others were wild

thyme and water-mint. It was a Salad-herb, and has (like Borage) a

flavour of cucumber, but it has, most undeservedly, gone out of fashion.

The taste is “somewhat warm, and the leaves should be cut young, or else

they are apt to be tough. Culpepper and Parkinson advise that a few

leaves should be added to a cup of claret wine because” it is “a helpe

to make the heart merrie.” Canon Ellacombe[16] says it was “and still is

valued as a forage plant that will grow and keep fresh all the winter in

dry, barren pastures, thus giving food for sheep when other food was

scarce. It has occasionally been cultivated, but the result has not been

very satisfactory, except on very poor land, though, according to the

Woburn experiments, as reported by Sinclair, it contains a larger amount

of nutritive matter in the spring than most of the grasses. It has brown

flowers from which it is supposed to derive its name (Brunetto).”

[15] Turner’s Herbal is beautifully illustrated; five initial letters

from it are here reproduced.

[16] “Plant-lore and Garden-Craft of Shakespeare.”

[Illustration: INITIAL LETTERS FROM TURNER’S “HERBAL”]

CARAWAY (_Carum carvi_).

_Shallow._ Now, you shall see my orchard, where, in an arbour we will

eat a last year’s Pippin of my own grafting, with a dish of Caraways,

and so forth.

_II. Henry IV._ v. 3.

In Elizabethan days, Caraway Seeds were appreciated at dessert, and

Canon Ellacombe says that the custom of serving roast apples with a

little saucerful of Caraway Seed is still kept up at some of the London

livery dinners. It was the practice to put them among baked fruits or

into bread-cakes, and they were also “made into comfits.” In cakes and

comfits they are used to-day, and in Germany I have seen them served

with potatoes fried in slices. The roots were boiled and “eaten as

carrots,” and made a “very welcome and delightful dish to a great many,”

though some found them rather strong flavoured. “The[17] Duchemen call

it Mat kumell or Wishenkumel and the Freses, Hofcumine. It groweth in

great plentye in Freseland in the meadows there betweene Marienhoffe and

Werden, hard by the sea banke.”

[17] “Turner’s Herbal,” 1538.

CELERY (_Apium graveolens_).

This is quite without romance. The older herbalists did not know it and

Evelyn says: “Sellery... was formerly a stranger with us (nor very long

since in _Italy_ itself).... Nor is it a distinct _species_ of

_smallage_ or Macedonian Parsley, tho’ somewhat more hot and generous,

by its frequent transplanting, and thereby render’d sweeter scented.”

For its “high and grateful taste, it is ever plac’d in the middle of the

_grand sallet_, at our great men’s tables, and Proctor’s Feasts, as the

grace of the whole board.” But though Parkinson did not know the plant

under this name, he did see some of the first introduced into England,

and gives an interesting account of this introduction to “sweete Parsley

or sweet Smallage.... This resembles sweete Fennell.... The first that

ever I saw was in a Venetian Ambassador’s garden in the spittle yard,

near Bishop’s Gate Streete. The first year it is planted with us it is

sweete and pleasant, especially while it is young, but after it has

grown high and large hath a stronger taste of smallage, and so likewise

much more the following yeare. The Venetians used to prepare it for

meate many waies, both the herbe and roote eaten rawe, or boyled or

fryed to be eaten with meate, or the dry’d herb poudered and strewn upon

meate; but most usually either whited and so eaten raw with pepper and

oyle as a dainty sallet of itselfe, or a little boyled or stewed... the

taste of the herbe being a little warming, but the seede much more.”

CHERVIL (_Scandix Cerefolium_).

Chibolles and Chervelles and ripe chiries manye.

_Piers Plowman._

Chervil was much used by the French and Dutch “boyled or stewed in a

pipkin. De la Quintinye recommends it to give a ‘perfuming rellish’ to

the salad, and Evelyn says the ‘_Sweete_ (and as the _French_ call it

_Musque_) _Spanish_ Chervile,’ is the best and ought ‘never to be

wanting in our sallets,’ for it is ‘exceeding wholesome and charming to

the spirits.’... This (as likewise Spinach) is used in tarts and serves

alone for divers sauces.”

CIBOULES, CHIBOULES OR CHIBBALS (_Allium Ascalonium_).

Acorns, plump as Chibbals.

_The Gipsies Metamorphosed._--BEN JONSON.

Ciboules are a small kind of onion; De la Quintinye says, “Onions

degenerated.” From the reference to them in _Piers Plowman_, they were

evidently in common use here in the time of Langlande. The French

gardener adds that they are “propagated only by seeds of the bignes of a

corn of ordinary gun-powder,” and Mr Britten identifies them with

Scallions or Shallot (_A. ascalonium_).

CIVES, OR CHIVES, OR SEIVES (_Allium Schænoprasum_).

Straightways follow’d in

A case of small musicians, with a din

Of little Hautbois, whereon each one strives

To show his skill; they all were made of seives,

Excepting one, which puff’d the player’s face,

And was a Chibole, serving for the bass.

_Britannia’s Pastorals_, Book III.

Cives and Ciboules are often mentioned together, as in this account of

King Oberon’s feast. The leaves are green and hollow and look like

rushes _en miniature_, and would serve admirably for elfin Hautbois.

Miss Amherst[18] says that they are mentioned in a list of herbs (Sloane

MS., 1201) found “at the beginning of a book of cookery recipes,

fifteenth century.” She also tells us that when Kalm came to England

(May 1748) he noticed them among the vegetables most grown in the

nursery-gardens round London. They were “esteemed milder than onions,”

and of a “quick rellish,” but their fame has declined in the last

hundred years. Loudon says that the leaves are occasionally used to

flavour soup, salads and omelettes--unlike ciboules, the bulb is not

used--but the chief purpose for which I have heard them required is to

mix with the food for young guinea-fowls and chickens.

[18] “History of Gardening in England.”

CORIANDER (_Coriandrum sativum_).

And Coriander last to these succeeds

That hangs on slightest threads her trembling seeds.

_The Salad._--COWPER.

The chief interest attached to Coriander is that in the Book of Numbers,

xi. 7, Manna is compared to the seed. It was originally introduced from

the East, but is now naturalised in Essex and other places, where it has

long been cultivated for druggists and confectioners. The seeds are

quite round, like tiny balls, and Hogg remarks that they become fragrant

by drying, and the longer they are kept the more fragrant they become.

“If taken oute of measure it doth trouble a manne’s witt, with great

jeopardye of madnes.”[19] Nowadays one comes across them oftenest in

little round pink and white comfits for children.

[19] Turner.

CUMIN (_Cuminum cyminum_).

Cummin good for eyes,

The roses reigning the pride of May,

Sharp isope good for greene woundes remedies.[20]

Cumin is also mentioned in the Bible by Isaiah; and also in the New

Testament, as one of the plants that were tithed. It is very seldom met

with, but the seeds have the same properties as caraway seeds. Gerarde

says it has “little jagged leaves, very finely cut into small parcels,”

and “spoky tufts” of red or purplish flowers. “The root is slender,

which perisheth when it hath ripened his seed,” and it delights in a hot

soil. He recommends it to be boyled together with wine and barley meale

“to the forme of a pultis” for a variety of ailments. In Germany the

seeds are put into bread and they figure in folklore. De Gubernatis says

it gave rise to a saying among the Greeks: “Le cumin symbolisait, chez

les Grecs, ce qui est petit. Des avares, ils disaient, qu’ils auraient

même partagé le cumin.”

[20] _Muiopotmos._--Spenser.

CRESSES.

Darting fish that on a summer morn

Adown the crystal dykes of Camelot,

Come slipping o’er their shadows on the sand....

Betwixt the cressy islets, white in flower.

_Geraint and Enid._

To purl o’er matted cress and ribbed sand,

Or dimple in the dark of rushy coves.

_Ode to Memory._--TENNYSON.

Valley lilies, whiter still

Than Leda’s love and cresses from the rill.

_Endymion._

Cresses that grow where no man may them see.

_Ibid._

I linger round my shingly bars,

I loiter round my cresses.

_The Brook._--TENNYSON.

Cresses have great powers of fascination for the poets, and “the cress

of the Herbalist is a noun of multitude,” says Dr Fernie. Of these now

cultivated, St Barbara’s Cress (_Barbarea vulgaris_) has the most

picturesque name, and is the least known. It was once grown for a winter

salad, but American Cress (_Erysimum præcox_) is more recommended for

winter and early spring. Indian Cress (_Tropæolum majus_), usually known

as nasturtium, is seldom counted a herb, although it is included in some

old gardening lists, for the sake of the pickle into which its unripe

fruits were made. Abercrombie adds that the flowers and young leaves are

used in salads, but this must be most rare in England; though, when once

in Brittany, I remember that the _bonne_ used to ornament the salad on

Sundays with an artistic decoration of scarlet and striped nasturtium

flowers. Garden Cress (_Lepidium sativum_), the tiny kind, associated in

one’s mind since nursery days with “mustard,” used to be known as

_Passerage_, as it was believed to drive away madness. Dr Fernie

continues, that the Greeks loved cress, and had a proverb, “Eat Cresses

and get wit.” They were much prized by our poor people, when pepper was

a luxury. “The Dutchmen[21] and others used to eate Cresses familiarly

with their butter and breade, as also stewed or boyled, either alone or

with other herbs, whereof they make a Hotch-Potch. We doe eate it mixed

with Lettuce and Purslane, or sometimes with Tarragon or Rocket with

oyle, vinegar, and a little salt, and in that manner it is very

savoury.”

Water-Cress (_Nasturtium officinale_) is rich in mineral salts and is

valuable as food. The leaves remain “green when grown in the shade, but

become of a purple brown because of their iron, when exposed to the

sun,” says Dr Fernie. “It forms the chief ingredient of the _Sirop

Antiscorbutique_, given so successfully by the French faculty.”

“Water-Cress pottage” is a good remedy “to help head aches. Those that

would live in health may use it if they please, if they will not I

cannot help it.” This is Culpepper’s advice, but he relents even to

those too weak-minded to avail themselves of a cure, salutary but

unpalatable. “If they fancy not pottage they may eat the herb as a

sallet.”

[21] Parkinson.

DANDELION (_Leontodon taraxacum_).

Dandelion, with globe and down,

The schoolboy’s clock in every town,

Which the truant puffs amain,

To conjure lost hours back again.

WILLIAM HOWITT.

Dandelion leaves used to be boiled with lentils, and one recipe bids one

have them “chopped as pot-herbes, with a few Allisanders boyled in their

broth.” But generally they were regarded as a medicinal, rather than a

salad plant. Evelyn, however, includes them in his list, and says they

should be “macerated in several waters, to extract the Bitterness. It

was with this Homely Fare the _Good Wife Hecate_ entertain’d _Theseus_.”

A better way of “extracting the Bitterness” is to blanch the leaves, and

it has been advised to dig up plants from the road-sides in winter when

salad is scarce, and force them in pots like succory. He continues that

of late years “they have been sold in most _Herb Shops_ about _London_

for being a wonderful Purifier of the Blood.” Culpepper, whose fiery

frankness it is impossible to resist quoting, manages on this subject to

get his knife into the doctors, as, to do him justice, he seldom loses

an opportunity of doing. “You see what virtues this common herb hath,

and this is the reason the French and Dutch so often eate them in the

spring, and now, if you look a little further, you may see plainly,

without a pair of spectacles, that foreign physicians are not so selfish

as ours are, but more communicative of the virtues of plants to people.”

The Irish used to call it Heart-Fever-Grass. The root, when roasted and

ground, has been substituted for coffee, and gave satisfaction to some

of those who drank it. Hogg relates a tale of woe from the island of

Minorca, how that once locusts devoured the harvest there, and the

inhabitants were forced to, and did subsist on this root, but does not

mention for what length of time.

[Illustration: SWEET CICELY AND OTHER HERBS]

DILL (_Anethum graveolens_).

The nightshade strews to work him ill,

Therewith her vervain and her dill.

_Nymphidia._--DRAYTON.

Here holy vervayne and here dill,

’Gainst witchcraft much availing,

_The Muses Elysium._

The wonder-working dill he gets not far from these.

_Polyolbion._ Song xiii.

Dill is supposed to have been derived from a Norse word “to dull,”

because the seeds were given to babies to make them sleep. Beyond this

innocent employment it was a factor in working spells of the blackest

magic! Dill is a graceful, umbelliferous plant--not at all suggestive of

Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde--and the seeds resemble caraway seeds in flavour,

but are smaller, flatter and lighter. There is _something_ mysterious

about it, because, besides being employed in spells by witches and

wizards, it was used by other people to resist spells cast by

traffickers in magic, and was equally powerful to do this! Dill is very

like fennel, but the leaves are shorter, smaller, and of a “stronger and

quicker taste. The leaves are used with Fish, though too strong for

everyone’s taste, and if added to ‘pickled Cowcumbers’ it ‘gives the

cold fruit a pretty, spicie taste.’” Evelyn also praises ‘_Gerckens

muriated_’ with the seeds of _Dill_, and Addison writes: “I am always

pleased with that particular time of the year which is proper for the

pickling of dill and cucumbers, but, alas! his cry, like the song of the

nightingale, is not heard above two months.”[22]

[22] _Spectator_, xxv. 1.

ENDIVE (_Cichorium Endivia_).

The Daisy, Butter-flow’r and Endive blue.

_Pastorals._--GAY.

There at no cost, on onions rank and red,

Or the curl’d endive’s bitter leaf, he fed.

_The Salad._--COWPER.

Endive is a plant of whose virtues our prosaic days have robbed us. Once

upon a time it could break all bonds and render the owner invisible, and

if a lover carried it about him, he could make the lady of his choice

believe that he possessed all the qualities she specially admired!

Folkard quotes three legends of it from Germany, one each from Austria

and Roumania, and an unmistakably Slav story--all of them of a romantic

character--and _we_ regard it as a salad herb! “There are three sorts:

Green-curled leaved; principal sort for main crops, white-curled leaved,

and broad Batavian” (Loudon). The green-curled leaved is the hardiest

and fittest for winter use. The Batavian is not good for salads, but is

specially in demand for stews and soups. All kinds must, of course, be

carefully blanched. Mrs Roundell[23] reminds one that endive is a

troublesome vegetable to cook, as it is apt to be crowded with insects.

The leaves should be all detached from the stem and carefully washed in

two or three salted waters. She also gives receipts for endive, dressed

as spinach, made into a purée or cooked alone. Parkinson said: “Endive

whited is much used in winter, as a sallet herbe with great delighte.”

_Succory, Chicory, or Wild Endive_ may be mentioned as making an

excellent salad when forced and blanched, and it is popular in France,

where it is called _Barbe de Capucin_. Its great advantage is, as Loudon

says, that “when lettuce or garden-endive are scarce, chicory can always

be commanded by those who possess any of the most ordinary means of

forcing.” He adds that it has been much used as fodder for cattle, and

that the roots, dried and ground, are well known--only too well known,

“partly along with, and partly as a substitute for coffee.”

[23] “Practical Cookery Book.”

FENNEL (_Fæniculum vulgare_).

_Ophelia._ There’s fennel for you and columbines.

_Hamlet_, iv. 5.

Fenel is for flatterers,

An evil thing it is sure,

But I have alwaies meant truely

With constant heart most pure.

_A Handfull of Pleasant Delightes._--C. ROBINSON.

_Christopher._ No, my good lord.

_Count._ Your _good lord_! Oh! how this smells of fennel!

_The Case Altered_, ii. 2.--BEN JONSON.

“Hast thou ought in thy purse?” quod he.

“Any hote spices?”

“I have peper, pionies,” quod she, “and a pound garlike

A ferdyng worth of fenel-seed for fastyng dayes.”

_Piers Plowman._

Oh! faded flowers of fennel, that will not bloom again

For any south wind’s calling, for any magic rain.

_The Faun to his Shadow._--N. HOPPER.

“Sow Fennel, sow Sorrow.”--_Proverb._

Few realise from how high an estate fennel has fallen. In Shakespeare’s

time we have the plainest evidence that it was the recognised emblem of

flattery. Ben Jonson’s allusion is almost as pointed as Robinson’s. It

is said that Ophelia’s flowers were all chosen for their significance,

so, perhaps, it was not by accident that she offers fennel to her

brother, in whose ears the cry must have been still ringing,

“Choose we; Laertes shall be king!”

with the echo:--

“Caps, hand, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds,

‘Laertes shall be king, Laertes king!’”

Nor was it only in our own land that Fennel had this significance, for

Canon Ellacombe quotes an Italian saying: “Dare Finocchio” (to give

fennel), meaning “to flatter.” As to the reason that fennel should be

connected with sorrow, the clue is lost, but the proverb is said still

to live in New England. The conversation which takes place in “Piers

Plowman,” between a priest and a poor woman, illustrates a use to which

fennel was put in earlier days. The poor got it, Miss Amherst says, “to

relieve the pangs of hunger on fasting days.” But it was by no means

despised by the rich, for “As much as eight and a half pounds of Fennel

seed was bought for the King’s Household (Edward I., 1281) for one

month’s supply.” She quotes from the Wardrobe Accounts. Our use either

of Common Fennel, or Sweet Fennel, or Finocchio is so limited that the

practice of Parkinson’s contemporaries shall be quoted. “Fenell is of

great use to trim up and strowe upon fish, as also to boyle or put among

fish of divers sorts, Cowcumbers pickled and other fruits, etc. The

rootes are used with Parsley rootes to be boyled in broths. The seed is

much used to put in Pippin pies and divers others such baked fruits, as

also into bread, to give it the better relish. The Sweet Cardus Fenell

being sent by Sir Henry Wotton to John Tradescante 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 sweetnesse by

nature, and the tendernesse by art, causeth it to be more delightfull to

the taste.” “Cardus Fenell” must have been Finocchio.

GOAT’S BEARD (_Tragopogon pratensis_).

And goodly now the noon-tide hour,

When from his high meridian tower,

The sun looks down in majesty,

What time about the grassy lea

The Goat’s Beard, prompt his rise to hail

With broad expanded disk, in veil

Close mantling wraps his yellow head,

And goes, as peasants say, to bed.

BP. MANT.

The habits of Goat’s Beard, or as it is often called,

John-go-to-bed-at-noon, are indicated by the latter name. It is less

known as Joseph’s Flower, which Mr Friend[24] says “seems to owe its

origin to pictures in which the husband of Mary is represented as a

long-bearded old man,” but Gerarde gives the Low-Dutch name of his time,

“Josephe’s Bloemen,” and says “when these flowers be come to their full

maturity and ripeness, they grow into a downy blow-ball, like those of

the Dandelion, which is carried away by the winde.” Evelyn praises it,

and is indignant with the cunning of the seed-sellers. “Of late they

have Italianiz’d the name, and now generally call it _Salsifex_... to

disguise it, being a very common field herb, growing in most parts of

_England_, would have it thought (with many others) an Exotick.” He

does not give the full Latin name, so one cannot tell whether it is our

Salsify (_Tragopogon porrifolius_) that he means, or _T. pratensis_, the

variety once more generally cultivated. The latter seems the likeliest,

as its yellow flowers are far more common than the purple ones of

salsify. _T. porrifolius_ is extremely rare in a wild state, but _T.

pratensis_ grows in “medows and fertil pastures in most parts of

England.” _T. pratensis_ is never cultivated now, and “Salsify” applies

exclusively to Purple Goat’s Beard (_T. porrifolium_). The old

herbalists praised it very highly.

[24] “Flowers and Flower-lore.”

HORSE-RADISH (_Cochlearia Armoracia_).

Dr Fernie translates its botanical name, _Cochlearia_, from the shape of

the leaves, which resemble, he says, an old-fashioned spoon; _ar_, near;

_mor_, the sea, from its favourite locality. “For the most part it is

planted in gardens... yet have I found it wilde in Sundrie places... in

the field next unto a farme house leading to King’s land, where my very

good friend Master _Bredwell_, practitioner in Phisick, a learned and

diligent searcher of Samples, and Master _William Martin_, one of the

fellowship of Barbers and Chirugians, my deere and loving friend, in

company with him found it and gave me knowledge of the plant, where it

flourisheth to this day.... Divers think that this Horse-Radish is an

enemie to Vines, and that the hatred between them is so greate, that if

the roots hereof be planted neare to the Vine, it bendeth backward from

it, as not willing to have fellowship with it.... Old writers ascribe

this enmitie to the vine and Brassica, our Colewortes.” Both he and

Parkinson think, that in transferring the “enmitie” from the cabbage to

the horse-radish, the “Ancients” have been mistranslated. The Dutch

called it Merretich; the French, Grand Raifort; the English, locally,

Red Cole. Evelyn calls it an “excellent, universal Condiment,” and says

that first steeped in water, then grated and tempered with vinegar, in

which a little sugar has been dissolved, it supplies “Mustard to the

Sallet, and serving likewise for any Dish besides.”

HYSSOP (_Hyssopus officinalis_).

Hyssop, as an herb most prime,

Here is my wreath bestowing.

_Muses Elysium._--DRAYTON.

_Iago._ “Our bodies are our gardeners; so that if we will plant

nettles, or sow lettuce, set hyssop and weed up thyme... why the power

and corrigible authority of this lies in our wills.”

_Othello_, i. 3.

Parkinson opens his “Theatre of Plants” with the words: “From a Paradise

of pleasant Flowers, I am fallen (_Adam_ like) to a world of Profitable

Herbs and Plants... and first of the Hisopes.... Among other uses, the

golden hyssop was of so pleasant a colour, that it provoked every

gentlewoman to wear them in their heads and on their arms with as much

delight as many fine flowers can give.” It is a hardy, evergreen shrub,

with a strong aromatic odour. The flowers are blue, and appear more or

less from June till October. The _Ussopos_ of Dioscorides was named from

_azob_, a holy herb, because it was used for cleansing sacred places,

and this is interesting when one thinks of Scriptural allusions to the

plant, although the hyssop of the Bible is most probably not our hyssop.

The identity of that plant has occasioned much divergence of opinion,

and a decision, beyond reach of criticism, has not yet been reached.

Mazes were sometimes planted with “Marjoram and such like, or Isope and

Time. It may eyther be sette with Isope and Time or with Winter Savory

and Time, for these endure all the Winter thorowe greene.”[25]

It was more often used for “Broths and Decoctions” than for salads, but

the tops and flowers were sometimes powdered and strewn on the top of

one. It is not much used nowadays, but I once saw an excitable Welsh

cook seize on a huge bunch of “dear Hyssop” with exclamations of joy. In

the East, “some plants diverted fascination by their smell,”[26] and

hyssop was one of these, and as a protection against the Evil Eye, was

hung up in houses.

[25] “Art of Gardening,” Hill, 1563.

[26] Friend.

LAMB’S LETTUCE or CORN SALAD (_Valeriana Locusta_).

Lamb’s Lettuce is variously known as _mâche_, _doucette_, _salade de

chanoine_, _poule-grasse_, and was formerly called “Salade de Prêter,

for their being generally eaten in Lent.” It is a small plant, with

“whitish-greene, long or narrow round-pointed leaves... and tufts of

small bleake blue flowers.” In corn-fields it grows wild, but Gerarde

says, “since it hath growne in use among the French and Dutch strangers

in England, it hath been sowen in gardens as a salad herbe,” and adds

that among winter and early spring salads “it is none of the worst.” The

fact of its being “recognised” at a comparatively late date, by the

English, and even then through the practices of the French, perhaps

accounts for the lack of English “pet” names, conspicuous beside the

number bestowed on it on the other side of the Channel. De la Quintinye

is not in accord with his countrymen on the subject, for he calls it a

“wild and rusticall Salad, because, indeed, it is seldom brought before

any Noble Company.” Despite this disparaging remark, it is still a

favourite in France, and it is surprising that a salad plant that stands

cold so well should not be more cultivated in this country. Lettuce is

so much more recognised as a vegetable than a herb that it will not be

mentioned here.

MARJORAM (_Origanum_).

_Lafeu._ ’Twas a good lady, ’twas a good lady. We may pick a thousand

salads ere we light on such another herb.

_Clown._ Indeed, Sir, she was the Sweet Marjoram of the Salad, or

rather the herb of grace.

_All’s Well that Ends Well_, iv. 5.

Not all the ointments brought from Delos’ Isle,

Nor that of quinces, nor of marjoram,

That ever from the Isle of Coös came,

Nor these, nor any else, though ne’er so rare,

Could with this place for sweetest smells compare.

_Britannia’s Pastorals._

O, bind them posies of pleasant flowers,

Of marjoram, mint and rue.

_Devonshire Song._

The scent of marjoram used to be very highly prized, and in some

countries the plant is the symbol of honour. Dr Fernie says _Origanum_

means in Greek the “joy of the mountains,” so charming a name one wishes

it could be more often used. Among[27] the Greeks, if it grew on the

grave it augured the happiness of the departed; “May many flowers grow

on this newly-built tomb” (is the prayer once offered); “not the

dried-up Bramble, or the red flower loved by goats; but Violets and

Marjoram, and the Narcissus growing in water, and around thee may all

Roses grow.”

Parkinson writes it was “put in nosegays, and in the windows of houses,

as also in sweete pouders, sweete bags, and sweete washing waters....

Our daintiest women doe put it to still among their sweet herbes.”

Pusser mentions it among his “herbs for strewing,” and in some recipes

for _pot pourri_ it is still included. _Origanum vulgare_ grows wild,

and the dry leaves are made into a tea “which is extremely grateful.”

The different kinds of marjoram are now chiefly used for soups and

stuffings. Isaac Walton gives instructions for dressing a pike, and

directs that among the accessories should be sweet marjoram, thyme, a

little winter savoury and some pickled oysters!

[27] Friend.

[Illustration: POT MARJORAM]

MINT (_Mentha_).

The neighb’ring nymphs each in her turn...

Some running through the meadows with them bring

Cowslips and mint.

_Britannia’s Pastorals_, book i.

In strewing of these herbs... with bounteous hands and free,

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

_Polyolbion_, Song xv.

Sunflowers and marigolds and mint beset us,

Moths white as stitchwort that had left its stem,

... Loyal as sunflowers we will not swerve us,

We’ll make the mints remembered spices serve us

For autumn as in spring.

N. HOPPER.

“Mint,” says De la Quintinye, “is called in French Balm,” which sounds

rather confusing; but Evelyn says it is the “Curled Mint, _M. Sativa

Crispa_,” that goes by this name. Mint was also called “Menthe de Notre

Dame,” and in Italy, “Erba Santa Maria,” and in Germany, “Frauen Münze,”

though this name is also applied to costmary. This herb used to be

strewn in churches. All the various kinds of it were thought to be good

against the biting of serpents, sea-scorpions, and mad dogs, but

violently antagonistic to the healing processes of wounds. “They are

extreme bad for wounded people, and they say a wounded man that eats

Mints, his wound will never be cured, and that is a long day! But they

are good to be put into Baths.”[28] The “gentler tops of Orange Mint”

(_Mentha citrata_?) are recommended “mixed with a Salad or eaten alone,

with the juyce of Orange and a little Sugar.”

The mint we commonly use is _Mentha Viridis_ or Spear Mint. “Divers

have held for true, that Cheeses will not corrupt, if they be either

rubbed over withe the juyce or a decoction of Mints, or they laid among

them.” It has been said, too, that an infusion of mint will prevent the

rapid curdling of milk. Being dried, mint was much used to put with

pennyroyal into puddings, and also among “pease that are boyled for

pottage.” The last is one of the few uses that survives. Parkinson

complains of all sorts of mints, that once planted in a garden they are

difficult to get rid of!

_Cat Mint, or Nep_ (_Nepeta Cataria_) is eaten in Tansies. “According to

Hoffman the root of the Cat Mint, if chewed, will make the most gentle

person fierce and quarrelsome.”[29]

_Pepper Mint_ is still retained, as is Spear Mint, in the British

Pharmacopœia. “The leaves have an intensely pungent aromatic taste

resembling that of pepper, and accompanied with a peculiar sensation of

coldness” (Thornton).

[28] Culpepper.

[29] Folkard.

MUSTARD (_Sinapis_).

_Bottom._ Your name, I beseech you, sir?

_Mustardseed._ Mustardseed.

_Bottom._ Good Master Mustardseed, I know your patience well: that

same cowardly, giant-like ox-beef hath devoured many a gentleman of

your house: I promise you your kindred hath made my eyes water ere

now. I desire your more acquaintance, good Master Mustardseed.

_Midsummer-Night’s Dream_, iii. 1.

In 1664 Evelyn wrote that mustard is of “incomparable effect to quicken

and revive the Spirits, strengthening the Memory and expelling

Heaviness.... In _Italy_, in making _Mustard_, they mingle _Lemon_ and

_Orange_ Peels with the seeds.” In England the best mustard came from

Tewkesbury. It is a curious instance of the instability of fashion that

only twenty-four years before Evelyn made these remarks, Parkinson

wrote: “Our ancient forefathers, even the better sort, in the most

simple, and as I may say the more healthful age of the world, were not

sparing in the use thereof... but nowadayes it is seldom used by the

successors, being accounted the clownes sauce, and therefore not fit for

their tables; but is transferred either to the meyny or meaner sort, who

therefore reap the benefit thereof.” He adds it is “of good use, being

fresh for Epilepticke persons... if it be applyed both inwardly and

outwardly.” There were some drawbacks to being sick or sorry in the

“good old days.” It was customary in Italy to keep the mustard in balls

till it was wanted, and these balls were made up with honey or vinegar

and a little cinnamon added. When the mustard was required, the ball was

“relented” with a little more vinegar. Canon Ellacombe says: “Balls were

the form in which Mustard was usually sold, till Mrs Clements of Durham,

in the last century, invented the method of dressing mustard flour like

wheat flour and made her fortune with Durham Mustard!” We cultivate

_Sinapis nigra_ for its seed and _Sinapis alba_ as a small salad herb.

PARSLEY (_Petroselinum sativum_).

The tender tops of Parsley next he culls,

Then the old rue bush shudders as he pulls.

_The Salad._

Quinces and Peris ciryppe (syrup) with parcely rotes,

Right so begyn your mele.

RUSSELL’S _Boke of Nature_.

Fat colworts and comforting perseline,

Cold lettuce and refreshing rosmarine.

_Muiopotmos._--SPENSER.

Parsley has the “curious botanic history that no one can tell what is

its native country. Probably the plant has been so altered by

cultivation as to have lost all likeness to its original self.”[30]

Superstitions connected with it are myriad, and Folkard gives two Greek

sayings that are interesting. It was the custom among them to border the

garden with parsley and rue, and from this arose an idiom, when any

undertaking was talked of, but not begun, “Oh! we are only at the

Parsley and Rue.” Parsley was used, too, to strew on graves, and hence

came a saying “to be in need of parsley,” signifying to be at death’s

door. Mr Friend quotes an English adage that “Fried parsley will bring a

man to his saddle and a woman to her grave,” but says that he has heard

no reason given for this strange and apparently pointless dictum.

Plutarch tells of a panic created in a Greek force, marching against the

enemy, by their suddenly meeting some mules laden with parsley, which

the soldiers looked upon as an evil omen; and W. Jones, in his “Crowns

and Coronations,” says, “Timoleon nearly caused a mutiny in his army

because he chose his crown to be of parsley, when his soldiers wished it

to be of the pine or pitch tree.” In many parts of England it is

considered unlucky, and I quote from a paper read before the Devon and

Exeter Gardeners’ Association in 1897. “It is one of the longest seeds

to lie in the ground before germinating; it has been said to go to the

Devil and back again nine times before it comes up. And many people have

a great objection to planting parsley, saying if you do there will sure

to be a death in the Family within twelve months.” It is only fair to

add that this delightful lapse into folk-lore comes in the midst of most

excellent and practical advice for its cultivation. “Quite recently (in

1883) a gentleman, living near Southampton, told his gardener to sow

some Parsley seed. The man, however, refused, saying that it would be a

bad day’s work to him if ever he brought Parsley seed into the house. He

said that he would not mind bringing a plant or two and throwing them

down, that his master might pick them up if he chose, but he would not

bring them to him for anything.”[31]

The “earliest known, really original work on gardening, written in

English,” is, Miss Amherst says, “a treatise in verse,” by Mayster Ion

Gardener. It consists of a prologue and eight divisions, and one of

these is devoted to “Perselye” alone. The manuscript in the Library of

Trinity College, Cambridge, that she quotes from, was written about

1440, but it is thought that the poem is older. Parsley was “much used

in all sortes of meates, both boyled, roasted and fryed, stewed, etc.,

and being green it serveth to lay upon sundry meates. It is also shred

and stopped into powdered beefe.... The roots are put into broth, or

boyled or stewed with a legge of Mutton... and are of a very good

rellish, but the roots must be young and of the first year’s

growth.”[32]

The seeds of parsley were sometimes put into cheese to flavour it, and

Timbs (“Things not generally Known”) tells this anecdote: “Charlemagne

once ate cheese mixed with parsley seeds at a bishop’s palace, and liked

it so much that ever after he had two cases of such cheese sent yearly

to Aix-la-Chapelle.”

In the edition of Tusser’s “Five Hundred Points of Good Husbandry,”

edited by Mavor, it is noted, “Skim-milk cheese, however, might be

advantageously mixed with seeds, as is the practice in Holland.” Though

not strictly relevant, these lines taken by Mrs Milne-Home (“Stray

Leaves from a Border-Garden”) from the family records of the Earls of

Marchmont, must find place. They were written by a boy of eight or nine,

on the occasion of his elder brother’s birthday.

This day from parsley-bed, I’m sure,

Was dug my elder brother, Moore,

Had Papa dug me up before him,

So many now would not adore him,

But hang it! he’s but onely one

And if he trips off, I’m Sr John.

_Horse-radish_ was treated here as a seasoning, but _radish_ is counted

among vegetables proper.

[30] Plant Lore and Garden Craft of Shakespeare.

[31] Friend.

[32] Parkinson.

SAGE (_Salvia officinalis_).

Sage is for sustenance

That should man’s life sustaine,

For I do stil lie languishing

Continually in paine,

And shall doe still until I die,

Except thou favour show,

My paine and all my grievous smart,

Ful wel you do it know.

_Handful of Pleasant Delights._

And then againe he turneth to his playe,

To spoyle the pleasures of the Paradise,

The wholesome saulge and lavender still gray.

_Muiopotmos._--SPENSER.

Sage is one of those sympathetic plants that feel the fortunes of their

owners; and Mr Friend says that a Buckinghamshire farmer told him his

recent personal experience. “At one time he was doing badly, and the

Sage began to wither, but, as soon as the tide turned, the plant began

to thrive again.” Most of the Continental names of the plant are like

the botanical one of _Salvia_, from “_Salvo_,” to save or heal, and its

high reputation in medicine lasted for ages. The Arabians valued it, and

the medical school of Salerno summed up its surpassing merits in the

line, _Cur morietur homo cui Salvia crescit in horto?_ (How can a man

die who grows sage in his garden?) Perhaps this originated the English

saying:--

He that would live for aye

Must eat Sage in May.

Parkinson mentions that it is “Much used of many in the month of May

fasting,” with butter and parsley, and is “held of most” to conduce to

health. “It healeth the pricking of the fishe called in Latine

_pastinaca marina_, whych is like unto a flath, with venomous prickes,

about his tayle. It maketh hayre blacke; it is good for woundis.”[33]

The “Grete Herball” contains a remedy for Lethargy or Forgetfulness,

which consists of making a decoction “of tutsan, of smalage and of

sauge,” and bathing the back of the head with it.

Pepys notes that in a little churchyard between Gosport and Southampton

the custom prevailed of sowing the graves with sage. This is rather

curious, as it has never been one of the plants specially connected with

death.

Evelyn sums up its “Noble Properties” thus: “In short ’tis a Plant

endu’d with so many and wonderful Properties, as that the assiduous use

of it is said to render Men _Immortal_. We cannot therefore but allow

the tender _Summities_ of the young Leaves, but principally the Flowers

in our Sallet; yet so as not to domineer.... ’Tis credibly affirmed,

that the _Dutch_ for some time drove a very lucrative Trade with the

dry’d Leves of what is called _Sage of Vertue_ and _Guernsey Sage_....

Both the Chineses and Japaneses are great admirers of that sort of Sage,

and so far prefer it to their own Tea... that for what _Sage_ they

purchase of the _Dutch_, they give triple the quantity of the choicest

_Tea_ in exchange.”

“Frytures” (fritters) of Sage are described as having place at banquets

in the Middle Ages (Russell’s “Boke of Nurture”). Besides these other

uses the seeds of sage like parsley seeds were used to flavour cheese.

Gay refers to this:--

Marbled with Sage,

The hardening cheese she pressed,

and to “Sage cheese,” too, and Timbs says, “The practice of mixing sage

and other herbs with cheese was common among the Romans.”

[33] Turner.

SAVORY (_Satureia_).

Some Camomile doth not amiss,

With Savoury and some tansy.

_Muses Elysium._

Here’s flowers for you,

Hot Lavender, Mints, Savory, Marjoram.

_Winter’s Tale_, iv. 4.

Sound savorie, and bazil, hartie-hale,

Fat Colwortes and comforting Perseline,

Cold Lettuce and refreshing Rosmarine.

_Muiopotmos._

Savory, satureia, was once supposed to belong to the satyrs. “Mercury

claims the dominion over this herb. Keep it dry by you all the year, if

you love yourself and your ease, and it is a hundred pounds to a penny

if you do not.” Culpepper follows this advice with a long list of

ailments, for all of which this herb is an excellent remedy. Summer

savory (_S. hortensis_) and winter savory (_S. Montana_) are the only

kinds considered in England as a rule, though Gerarde further mentions

“a stranger,” which, “because it groweth plentifully upon the rough

cliffs of the Tyrrhenian Sea in Italie, called Saint Julian rocke,” is

named after the saint, _Satureia Sancti Juliani_. In other countries

summer savory used to be strewn upon the dishes as we strew parsley, and

served with peas or beans; rice, wheat and sometimes the dried herb was

“boyled among pease to make pottage.” Winter savory used to be dried and

powdered and mixed with grated bread, “to breade their meate, be it fish

or flesh, to give it a quicker rellish.” Here Parkinson breaks off to

deliver a severe reproof to “this delicate age of ours, which is not

pleased with anything almost that is not pleasant to the palate,” and

therefore neglects many viands which would be of great benefit. Both

savories are occasionally used more or less in the way he suggests,

winter savory being the favourite. In Cotton’s sequel to the “Complete

Angler,” a “handful of sliced horse-radish-root, with a handsome little

faggot of rosemary, thyme and winter savoury” is recommended in the

directions for “dressing a trout.” One of the virtues attributed to both

savories by the old herbalists is still agreed to by some gardeners: “A

shoot of it rubbed on wasp or bee stings instantly gives relief.”

SORREL (_Rumex_).

Simplest growth of Meadow-sweet or Sorrel

Such as the summer-sleepy Dryads weave.

_Swinburne._

Cresses that grow where no man may them see,

And sorrel, untorn by the dew-claw’d stag;

Pipes will I fashion of the syrinx flag.

_Endymion._

There flourish’d starwort and the branching beet

The sorrel acid and the mallow sweet.

_The Salad._

Here curling sorrel that again

We use in hot diseases

The medicinable mallow here...

_Muses Elysium._

Sorrel and mallow seem to have been associates anciently, perhaps

because it was thought that the virtues of the one would counterbalance

those of the other. “From May to August the meadows are often ruddy with

the sorrel, the red leaves of which point out the graves of the Irish

rebels who fell at Tara Hill in the ‘Ninety-eight,’ the local tradition

asserting that the plants sprang from the patriots’ blood.”[34] The

Spaniards used to call sorrel, Agrelles and Azeda, and the French

Aigrette and Surelle. In England it used to be “eaten in manner of a

Spinach tart or eaten as meate,” and the French and Dutch still do, I

believe, and at anyrate did quite lately, use it as spinach. Sorrel was

often added by them to herb-patience when that was used as a pot-herb,

and was said to give it an excellent flavour. The same recipe has been

tried and approved in England as well as (a little) sorrel cooked with

turnip-tops or spinach; the former of these dishes is said to be good

and the second certainly is. Evelyn thought that sorrel imparted “so

grateful a quickeness to the salad that it should never be left out,”

and De la Quintinye says that in France besides being mixed in salads it

is generally used in Bouillons or thin Broths. Of the two kinds, Garden

Sorrel, _Rumex Acetosa_, and French Sorrel, _R. Scutatus_, either may be

used indifferently in cooking, though some people decidedly prefer the

French kind. Mrs Roundell says that sorrel carefully prepared can be

cooked in any of the ways recommended for spinach, but that it should be

cooked as soon as it is picked, and if this is impossible must be

revived in water before being cooked.

[34] Folkard.

[Illustration: THE LAVENDER WALK AT STRATHFIELDSAYE]

TARRAGON (_Artemisia Dracunculus_).

“Tarragon is cherished in gardens.... Ruellius and such others have

reported many strange tales hereof scarce worth the noting, saying that

the seede of flaxe put into a radish roote or sea onion, and so set,

doth bring forth this herbe Tarragon.” This idea was apparently still

current though discredited by the less superstitious in Gerarde’s time.

Parkinson mentions a great dispute between ancient herbalists as to the

identity of the flower called Chysocoma by Dioscorides. After quoting

various opinions and depreciating some of them he approves the decision

of Molinaus that Tarragon was the plant. He describes it “in leaves...

like unto the ordinary long-leafed Hisope... of the colour of _Cyperus_,

of a taste not unpleasant which is somewhat austere with the

sweetnesse.” It is a native of Siberia, but has long been cultivated in

France, and the name is a corruption of the French _Esdragon_ and means

“Little Dragon.” Though no reason for this war-like title is obvious,

the name is practically the same in several other countries. The leaves

were good pickled, and it is altogether a fine aromatic herb for soups

and salads. Vinegars for salads and sauce used often in earlier days to

be “aromatized” by steeping in them rosemary, gilliflowers, barberries

and so forth, but the only herb used for this purpose at the present

time is tarragon. Tarragon vinegar can still be easily obtained. “The

volatile essential oil of tarragon is chemically identical with that of

anise” (Fernie).

Thyme (_Thymus vulgaris_).

The bees on the bells of thyme

* * * * *

Were as silent as ever old Timolus was

Listening to my sweet pipings.

_Pan’s Music_--SHELLEY.

In my garden grew plenty of thyme,

It would flourish by night and by day,

O’er the wall came a lad, he took all that I had,

And stole my thyme away.

O! And I was a damsel so fair,

But fairer I wished to appear,

So I washed me in milk, and I dressed me in silk,

And put the sweet thyme in my hair.

_Devonshire Songs._

Beneath your feet,

Thyme that for all your bruising smells more sweet.

N. HOPPER.

Some from the fen bring reeds, wild thyme from downs,

Some from a grove, the bay that poets crowns.

_Br. Pastorals_, book ii.

Here, dancing feet fall still,

Here, where wild thyme and sea-pinks brave wild weather.

N. HOPPER.

O! Cupid was that saucy boy,

Who furrows deeply drew.

He broke soil, destroyed the soil

Of wild thyme wet with dew.

Before his feet, the field was sweet

With flowers and grasses green,

Behind, turn’d down, and bare and brown

By Cupid’s coulter keen.

_Devonshire Songs._

“Among the Greeks, thyme denoted graceful elegance of the Attic style,”

and was besides an emblem of activity. “‘To smell of Thyme’ was

therefore an expression of praise, applied to those whose style was

admirable” (Folkard). In the days of chivalry, when activity was a

virtue very highly rated, ladies used “to embroider their knightly

lovers’ scarves with the figure of a bee hovering about a sprig of

thyme.”[35] In the south of France wild thyme or _Ferigoule_ is a symbol

of advanced Republicanism, and tufts of it were sent with the summons to

a meeting to members of a society holding those views. Gerarde, in his

writings, plainly shows that he and his contemporaries did _not_

indiscriminately call all plants “herbs,” but distinguished them with

thought and care. “_Ælianus_ seemeth to number wild time among the

floures. _Dionysius Junior_ (saith he) comming into the city Locris in

Italy, possessed most of the houses of the city, and did strew them with

roses, wild time and other such kinds of floures. Yet Virgil, in the

Second Eclogue of his Bucolicks doth most manifestly testifie that wilde

Time is an herbe.” Here he translates:--

Thestilis, for mower’s tyr’d with parching heate,

Garlike, wild Time, strong smelling herbs doth beate.

Modern opinion confirms the view that _Thymus capitatus_ was the thyme

of the ancients. The affection of bees for thyme has often been noticed,

and the “fine flavour to the honey of Mount Hymettus”[36] is said to be

due to this plant. Evelyn speaks of it as having “a most agreeable

_odor_,” and a “considerable quantity being frequently, by the

Hollanders, brought from _Maltha_, and other places in the _Streights_,

who sell it at home, and in _Flanders_ for strewing amongst the

_Sallets_ and Ragouts; and call it _All-Sauce_.” Gerarde divides the

garden thyme (_T. vulgaris_) and Wild Thyme or Mother of Thyme (_T.

serpyllum_) into two chapters, but Parkinson takes them together and

describes eleven kinds, including Lemmon Thyme, which has the “sent of a

Pomecitron or Lemmon”; and “Guilded or embrodered Tyme,” whose leaves

have “a variable mixture of green and yellow.” Abercrombie’s information

is always given in a concentrated form. “An ever-green, sweet-scented,

fine-flavoured, aromatic, under-shrub, young tops used for various

kitchen purposes.”

[35] “Flora Symbolica.” _Ingram._

[36] Hogg, “The Vegetable Kingdom and its Products.”

VIPER’S GRASS or SCORZONERA (_Scorzonera Hispanica_).

The virtues of this herb were known, but not much regarded, before

“Monardus,[37] a famous physician in _Sivell_,” published a book in

which was “set downe that a Moore, a bond-slave, did help those that

were bitten of that venomous beast or Viper... which they of Catalonia,

where they breed in abundance, call in their language _Escuersos_ (from

whence _Scorsonera_ is derived), with the juice of the herb, and the

root given them to eate,” and states that this would effect a cure when

other well-authorised remedies failed. “The rootes hereof, being

preserved with sugar, as I have done often, doe eate almost as delicate

as the Eringus roote.” Evelyn is loud in its praise. It is “a very

sweete and pleasant _Sallet_, being laid to soak out the Bitterness,

then peel’d may be eaten raw or _condited_; but, best of all, stew’d

with _Marrow_, _Spice_, _Wine_.... They likewise may bake, fry or boil

them; a more excellent Root there is hardly growing.” As “Spanish

Salsify” it is much recommended by other writers.

[37] _Parkinson._

WOOD-SORREL (_Oxalis Acetosella_).

Who from the tumps with bright green masses clad,

Plucks the Wood-Sorrel with its light green leaves,

Heart shaped and triply folded; and its root

Creeping like beaded coral.

CHARLOTTE SMITH.

The Wood-Sorrel has many pretty names: Alleluia, Hearts, _Pain de

Coucou_, _Oseille de Bûcheron_; in Italy, _Juliola_. Wood-Sorrel is a

plant of considerable interest. It has put forward strong claims to be

identified with St Patrick’s shamrock, and it has been painted, Mr

Friend says, “in the foreground of pictures by the old Italian painters,

notably Fra Angelico.” For the explanation of the names: “It is called

by the Apothecaries in their shoppes _Alleluia_ and _Lugula_, the one

because about that time it is in flower, when _Alleluja_ in antient

times was wont to be sung in the Churches; the other came corruptly from

_Juliola_, as they of Calabria in Naples doe call it.” By the “Alleluja

sung in the churches,” Parkinson means the Psalms, from Psalm cxiii. to

Psalm cxvii. (and including these two), for they end with “Hallelujah,”

and were specially appointed to be sung between Easter and Whitsuntide.

“It is called Cuckowbreade, either because the Cuckowes delight to feed

thereon, or that it beginneth to flower when the Cuckow beginneth to

utter her voyce.” Another name was Stubwort, from its habit of growing

over old “stubs” or stumps of trees, and in Wales it was called Fairy

Bells, because people thought that the music which called the elves to

“moonlight dance and revelry” came from the swinging of the tiny bells.

The Latin name is a reminder that oxalic acid is obtained from this

plant.

As Evelyn includes it amongst his salad herbs, I mention it here, though

feeling bound to add that anyone must be a monster who could regard the

graceful leaves and trembling, delicately-veined bells of this plant,

full of poetry, with any other sentiment than that of passive

admiration!