the Elizabethan gardeners, and most of them did particularly well in
London until in the reign of James I, when the increasing smoke of
coal-fires exterminated the most lovely and the most delicate species,
the double yellow rose. Things grew rapidly worse in this respect,
until Parkinson in despair, cried out: 'Neither herb, nor tree, will
prosper since the use of sea-coal.' Up to that time in London, and
afterwards in country-places, the rose preserved its vogue. It was not
usually grown for pleasure, since the petals had a great commercial
value; there was a brisk trade in dried roses and a precious sweet
water was distilled from the damask rose. The red varieties of the rose
were considered the best medicinally, and they produced that rose syrup
which was so widely used both as a cordial and as an aperient. The
fashion for keeping _potpourri_ in dwelling-rooms became so prevalent
that the native gardens could not supply enough, and dried yellow
roses became a recognized import from Constantinople. We must think of
the parlors of the ladies who saw Shakespeare's plays performed for
the first time as all redolent with the perfume of dried, spiced and
powdered rose-leaves." In "Sonnet LIV" Shakespeare says:
The rose looks fair, but fairer it we deem
For that sweet odor which doth in it live.
The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye
As the perfumèd tincture of the roses,
Hang on such thorns and play as wantonly
When summer's breath their maskèd buds discloses.
But, for their virtue only is their show,
They live unwoo'd, and unrespected fade;
Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so;
Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odors made.
For twenty-seven centuries--and more--the rose has been considered
queen of flowers. Her perfume, her color, her elegance, and her mystic
fascination have won all hearts. Shakespeare says: "A rose by any other
name would smell as sweet." In one sense that is true; but we would not
be willing to try another title, for the very word rose is a beautiful
one and conjures up a particular and very special vision of sweetness
and beauty.
Thousands and thousands of poems have been written in praise of this
flower, ever since Sappho sang to her lyre the words "Ho! the rose! Ho!
the rose!"
Sir Henry Wotton wrote:
You Violets that first appear,
By your pure purple mantles known,
Like the proud virgins of the year,
As if the Spring were all your own,
What are you when the Rose is blown?
And Hood sang:
The Cowslip is a country wench;
The Violet is a nun;
But I will woo the dainty Rose
The queen of every one.
And Shelley:
And the rose, like a nymph to the bath addrest,
Which unveiled the depths of her glowing breast,
Till, fold after fold, to the fainting air,
The soul of her beauty and love laid bare.
Shelley's "fold after fold" reminds us that Ruskin points out that one
of the rose's beauties is that her petals make shadows over and over
again of their own loveliness.
Dr. Forbes Watson has, perhaps, been the most successful of all writers
in putting into words the reasons why the rose has such power over
mankind:
"The flower has something almost human about it--warm, breathing, soft
as the fairest cheek; of white, no longer snowy like the narcissus,
but flushed with hues of animating pink; either flower, white or red,
being alike symbolical of glowing, youthful passion."
In the East the rose gardens have been famed for centuries. The flower
is said to burst into bloom at the voice of the nightingale. The poet
Jami says: "You may place a handful of fragrant herbs of flowers before
the nightingale, yet he wishes not in his constant heart for more than
the sweet breath of his beloved rose." It is said that an Arabian
doctor discovered the recipe for rose-water in the Tenth Century;
but the perfume may be older than that. The _Rosa centifolia_ is the
blossom used. The Indians and Persians have known how to make their
attar of rose for centuries.
A large volume would be required to chronicle the romance of the rose,
for it is the flower of love, beauty, and poetry. It is dedicated to
Venus, and Venus is frequently represented as wearing a crown of roses.
Her son, Eros or Cupid, is also wreathed and garlanded with roses.
Cupid gave a rose to Harpocrates, god of silence--hence the rose is
also the symbol of silence. "Under the rose," a saying that expresses
silence and secrecy, is derived from this legend. A siren holding a
rose stands among the sculptured ruins of Pæstum. Roses and myrtle
adorned the brides of Greece and Rome. The profusion of roses used for
decorations at feasts astounds us even to-day. No epicure was satisfied
with the cup of Falernian wine unless it were perfumed with roses; and
the Spartan soldiers at the Battle of Cirrha actually refused wine
because it was not perfumed with roses. This makes us wonder if those
Spartan mothers, of whom we hear so much, were really as severe as they
are reputed to have been. Red roses were dedicated to Jupiter; damask
roses to Venus; and white roses to Diana or the moon. The rose was
given to the Virgin Mary as her particular flower; and many Italian
painters as well as Flemish, Spanish, and German, have painted the
Madonna of the Rose, the Madonna of the Rose-hedge, the Madonna of the
Rose-bush, and the Madonna of the Rose-garden. The rosary, introduced
by St. Dominick in commemoration of his having been shown a Chaplet of
roses by the Virgin, originally consisted of rose-leaves pressed into
balls.
II
"_Lilies of All Kinds_"
THE LILY (_Lilium candidum_). The fact that _Perdita_ calls for
"lilies of all kinds" shows that Shakespeare loved one of the most
beautiful families of flowers that grace the earth, and knew the many
varieties that grew in the English gardens of his day, which include
the Lily-of-the-Valley (in his time called Lily Conally); the splendid
yellow lilies; the red martagon and spotted martagon (tiger-lilies);
as well as the pure white lily. Parkinson, who writes so beautifully
of plants and blossoms, did not neglect the lily. He says: "The lily
is the most stately flower among many," and he directs attention "to
the wonderful variety of lilies known to us in these days, much more so
than in former times."
[Illustration: RED, WHITE DAMASK AND MUSK ROSES; LILIES; AND EGLANTINES
AND DOG-ROSES: FROM PARKINSON]
First on the list comes the white lily, which has always been regarded
from time immemorial as the most beautiful member of this most
beautiful family, a picture of purity with its white silken petals
exquisitely set off by the yellow anthers and breathing such delicious
fragrance. This is the lily of which Shelley sings:
And the wand-like lily, which lifteth up
As a Mænad, its moonlight colored cup,
Till the fiery star which is its eye
Gazed through clear dew on the tender sky.
"The ordinary White Lily, _Lilium candidum_," writes Parkinson, "scarce
needeth any description, it is so well known and so frequent in every
garden. The stalk is of a blackish green color, having many fair broad
and long green leaves. The flower stands upon long green footstalks, of
a fair white color, with a long pointell in the middle and white chives
tipt with yellow pendants about it. The smell is something heady and
strong. It is called _Lilium album_, the White Lily, by most writers;
but by poets, _Rosa Junonis_, Juno's Rose."
How perfect is this flower! Texture, form, hue, sheen, perfume--all
express exquisite loveliness. The lily refreshes us with its cool
beauty and its purity and lifts our thoughts upward to heaven.
Gerard describes eight lilies in his "Herbal" (1597), all of which
were known to Shakespeare. Certainly among _Perdita's_ flowers was
the martagon, which takes its name from the Italian _martagone_,
meaning a Turk's turban. This lily is also called "Chalcedonian" and
"Scarlet martagon" and "Turk's Cap," by Parkinson, who tells us that
the "_Lilium rubrum Byzantinum Martagon Constantinopolitanum_, or the
red martagon of Constantinople, is become so common everywhere and so
well known to all lovers of these delights that I shall seem unto them
to lose time to bestow many lines upon it; yet because it is so fair
a flower and was at the first so highly esteemed, it deserveth its
place and commendations. It riseth out of the ground bearing a round,
brownish stalk, beset with many fair green leaves confusedly thereon,
but not so broad as the common White Lily, upon the top whereof stand
one, two, or three, or more, flowers upon long footstalks, which hang
down their heads and turn up their leaves again, of an excellent red
crimson color and sometimes paler, having a long pointell in the middle
compassed with whitish chives, tipt with loose yellow pendants, of a
reasonable good scent, but somewhat faint. We have another of this
kind, the Red Spotted Martagon of Constantinople, that groweth somewhat
greater and higher with a larger flower, and of a deeper color, spotted
with divers black spots, or streaks, and lines, as is to be seen in
Mountain Lilies."
The martagon belongs to the tiger-lily class, whose characteristics
have been so imaginatively brought out by Thomas Bailey Aldrich:
I like the chaliced lilies,
The heavy Eastern lilies,
The gorgeous tiger-lilies,
That in our garden grow.
For they are tall and slender;
Their mouths are dashed with carmine,
And when the wind sweeps by them,
On their emerald stalks
They bend so proud and graceful,--
They are Circassian women,
The favorites of the Sultan,
Adown our garden walks.
And when the rain is falling,
I sit beside the window
And watch them glow and glisten,--
How they burn and glow!
O for the burning lilies,
The tender Eastern lilies
The gorgeous tiger-lilies,
That in our garden grow.
Shakespeare has many beautiful passages concerning the lily. He often
refers to its whiteness. He considers it as impossible a task "to paint
the lily" as it is "to gild refined gold," or "to throw a perfume on
the violet."
How the lily was loved by the ancients! The Egyptians adored it; the
Persians named cities for it; the Hebrews worshiped it. The Greeks and
Romans called the lily Juno's flower, and fancied that the flower owed
its very existence to drops of milk spilled on earth from Juno's white
breast when she was nursing the infant Hercules.
The church consecrated the lily to the Virgin Mary. It was her
flower as Queen of Heaven. In many old religious paintings of the
Annunciation, the Angel Gabriel, appearing before the Virgin, usually
holds the "Annunciation Lily," or "Madonna Lily" in his hand. Joseph's
staff was said to have blossomed into lilies, and it is the white lily
that is usually represented in this connection.
Wonderful family this lily tribe, flowers of the grand style and
haughty demeanor! Ruskin enlightens us as to why it is every one loves
them and why they are entwined with many of our thoughts of art and
life:
"Under the name of _Drosidæ_ come plants delighting in interrupted
moisture--moisture which comes either partially, or at certain
seasons--into dry ground. They are not water-plants, but the signs
of water resting among dry places. In the _Drosidæ_ the floral
spirit passes into the calix also, and the entire flower becomes a
six-rayed star, bursting out of the stem laterally, as if it were the
first of flowers and had made its way to the light by force through
the unwilling green. They are often required to retain moisture, or
nourishment, for the future blossom through long times of drought; and
this they do in bulbs underground, of which some become a rude and
simple, but most wholesome food for man.
"Then the _Drosidæ_ are divided into five great orders--lilies,
asphodels, amaryllis, irids and rushes. No tribes of flowers have
had so great, so varied, or so healthy an influence on man as this
great group of _Drosidæ_, depending not so much on the whiteness of
some of their blossoms, or the radiance of others, as on the strength
and delicacy of the substance of their petals; enabling them to take
forms of faultless, elastic curvature, either in cups, as the Crocus,
or expanding bells, as the true Lily, or heath-like bells, as the
Hyacinth, or bright and perfect stars, like the Star of Bethlehem, or,
when they are affected by the strange reflex of the serpent nature
which forms the labiate group of all flowers, closing into forms of
exquisitely fantastic symmetry as the Gladiolus. Put by their side
their Nereid sisters, the Water-lilies, and you have in them the origin
of the loveliest forms of ornamental design and the most powerful
floral myths yet recognized among human spirits, born by the streams of
the Ganges, Nile, Arno and Avon.
"For consider a little what each of those five tribes has been to the
spirit of man. First, in their nobleness; the Lilies gave the Lily of
the Annunciation; the Asphodels, the flower of the Elysian Fields;
the Irids, the fleur-de-lys of chivalry; and the Amaryllis, Christ's
lily of the fields; while the Rush, trodden always under foot, became
the emblem of humility. Then take each of the tribes and consider the
extent of their lower influence. _Perdita's_ 'the Crown Imperial,
lilies of all kinds,' are the first tribe, which, giving the type of
perfect purity in the Madonna's Lily, have, by their lovely form,
influenced the entire decorative design of Italian sacred art; while
ornament of war was continually enriched by the curves of the triple
petals of the Florentine '_giglio_' and the French fleur-de-lys; so
that it is impossible to count their influence for good in the Middle
Ages, partly as a symbol of womanly character and partly of the utmost
brightness and refinement in the city which was the 'flower of cities.'"
Astrologers placed the lily under the moon; and the flower is certainly
dreamy enough and celestial enough to be under the rule of Diana, or
Astarte.
III
_Crown-Imperial and Flower-de-luce_
THE CROWN-IMPERIAL (_Fritillaria imperalis_) is mentioned by
_Perdita_. A native of Persia, Afghanistan, and Kashmir, it was taken
to Constantinople, and thence to Vienna in 1576. Finally it came to
England with other luxuries of the Renaissance. Gerard had it in his
garden, and describes it as follows:
"Out of a tuft of narrow leaves the stem rises and terminates in a
second tuft immediately below which is a ring of large tulip-like
flowers, pendulous and golden yellow. Looking into the bells at the
base of every petal is a white and concave nectary from which hangs a
drop of honey that shines like a pearl. In the bottom of each of the
bells there is placed six drops of most clear shining water, in taste
like sugar resembling in shew fair Orient pearls, the which drops if
you take away there do immediately appear the like. Notwithstanding
if they may be suffered to stand still in the flower according to his
own nature, they will never fall away, no, not if you strike the plant
until it be broken."
The Crown-Imperial was, perhaps, of all choice "outlandish flowers" the
choicest. Parkinson gives it the first place in the Garden of Delight,
opening his great book, "Paradisus Terrestris," with an account of it:
"The Crown Imperial," he writes, "for his stately beautifulness
deserveth the first place in this our Garden of Delight. The stalk
riseth up three, or four, foot high, being great, round and of a
purplish color at the bottom, but green above, beset from thence
to the middle thereof with many long and broad green leaves of our
ordinary white lily, but somewhat shorter and narrower, confusedly
without order, and from the middle is bare, or naked, without leaves
for a certain space upwards, and then beareth four, six, or ten
flowers, more or less, according to the age of the plant and the
fertility of the soil where it groweth. The buds at the first appearing
are whitish, standing upright among a bush, or tuft, of green leaves,
smaller than those below and standing above the flowers. After a
while they turn themselves and hang downward every one upon his own
footstalk, round about the great stem, or stalk, sometimes of an even
depth and other while one lower, or higher, than another, which flowers
are near the form of an ordinary Lily, yet somewhat lesser and closer,
consisting of six leaves of an orange-color striped with purplish lines
and veins, which add a great grace to the flowers. At the bottom of the
flower, next unto the stalk, every leaf thereof hath on the outside a
certain bunch, or eminence, of a dark purplish color, and on the inside
there lieth in those hollow bunched places certain clear drops of water
like unto pearls, of a very sweet taste, almost like sugar. In the
midst of each flower is a long white stile, or pointell, forked, or
divided, at the end and six white chives, tipt with yellowish pendants,
standing close above it. After the flowers are past, appear six square
seed vessels, standing upright, winged as it were, or weltered on the
edges, yet seeming but three-square, because each couple of those
welted edges are joined closer together, wherein are contained broad,
flat and thin seeds of a pale brownish color, like unto other lilies,
but much greater and thicker also.
"This plant was first brought from Constantinople into these Christian
countries, and, by relation of some that sent it, groweth naturally in
Persia. It flowereth most commonly in the end of March, if the weather
be mild, and springeth not out of the ground until the end of February,
or beginning of March, so quick it is in the springing. The head
with seeds are ripe in the end of May. It is of some called _Lilium
Perticum_, or Persian Lily; but because we have another, which is more
usually called by that name, I had rather, with Alphonsus Pancius, the
Duke of Florence, his physician (who first sent the figure thereof unto
Mr. John de Brancion) call it _Corona Imperialis_, the Crown Imperial."
[Illustration: MARTAGON LILIES, WARLEY, ENGLAND]
There is a legend that the Crown-Imperial grew in the garden of
Gethsemane, where it was often admired by Jesus Christ. At that time,
according to the story, the flowers were _white_ and erect on the
stalk. During the night of the agony when Our Lord passed through the
garden, this flower was the only one that did not bow its head. Later
the proud flower bent its head and tears of sorrow filled its cup. Ever
since that time the plant has continued to bow in sorrow and its tears
flow forever.
Dr. Forbes Watson loves the flower with its "bold, decided outlines."
His description is all too short. "The tall stem," he says, "rises like
a mast through the lower leaves, is thence for a short space bare till
it is topped by the crowning sheaf of leaf-swords, out of which droop
so gracefully the large yellow wax-like bells. Here every line seems to
pierce like an arrow, the composition is so clear and masterly."
The Crown-Imperial appears in the celebrated book called "Guirlande de
Julie," which the Duc de Montausier gave on New Year's Day, 1634, to
his bride, Julie de Rambouillet. This was a magnificent album: every
leaf bore a beautifully painted flower and a verse descriptive of it or
in praise of it contributed by different artists and poets. Chapelain
chose the Crown-Imperial for his theme, pretending that it sprang from
the blood of Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden, who, not being able to offer
his hand to Julie, came to her in the guise of this flower.
FLOWER-DE-LUCE (_Iris pseudacorus_). _Perdita's_ mention of "lilies
of all kinds, the flower-de-luce being one," shows that Shakespeare
classed this flower among the lilies. So did the botanists of his
time. Symbol of eloquence and power, the Egyptians placed the purple
iris upon the brow of the Sphinx. The scepter of their monarchs was
adorned with this flower, its three petals representing faith, wisdom,
and valor. The kings of Babylon and Assyria also bore it on their
scepters. The Greeks laid the iris on the tombs of women because they
believed that Iris guided dead women to the Elysian Fields. Although
the iris was also dedicated to Juno, it is more particularly the flower
of Iris, lovely Iris, one of the beautiful Oceanides, daughters of
Ocean, and messenger of the gods, who whenever she wished to descend
upon the earth threw her rainbow scarf across the sky and with all its
prismatic colors glistening in her perfumed wings descended from heaven
to earth upon the graceful bow that joins the seen and the unseen
worlds. The purple, yellow, orange, and blue tints of the rainbow live
again in the petals and drooping lips called "falls." What a flower
of charm, mystery, and majesty! Sphinx of the flower world! The iris
was extremely popular in Shakespeare's day. Parkinson gives a great
many "Flower-de-luces, or Iris" in his monumental work. We find "the
Purple, the Blue, the Purple-striped, the Peach-colored, the White, the
White-striped, the Parti-colored, the Milk-White, the Silver color,
the White with Yellow Falls, the Straw color, the Spanish Yellow, the
Purple and Yellow, the Purple or Murrey, the Great Turkie, the Common
Purple, the Great Dalmatian, the Yellow of Tripoli, the Double Blew,
the Double Purple, the Purple Dwarf," and many others which prove how
popular this flower was in Tudor and Stuart gardens, and what splendid
specimens were known to the people of Shakespearian times. Parkinson
also adds: "The dried root called Orris is of much use to make sweet
powders, or other things, to perfume apparel or linen."
The fleur-de-lis early became the symbol of France. At the proclamation
of a new king the Franks always placed a living flower, or flag, as it
was called, in his hand as the symbol of power. Because his wife, St.
Clotilde, had a vision of the iris, Clovis erased the three frogs on
his shield and substituted the iris. In consequence also of a dream,
Louis VII took the iris for his device in 1137, from which it became
known as the fleur de Louis, later contracted into fleur-de-lys and
fleur-de-lis. When Edward III claimed the crown of France in 1340,
he quartered the Old French shield bearing the fleur-de-lis with his
English lion. The iris, or flower-de-luce (as the English wrote it),
did not disappear from the English coat of arms until 1801.
Shakespeare speaks of the fleur-de-lis in the _Messenger's_ speech in
"King Henry VI":[53]
Awake, awake, English nobility!
Let not sloth dim your honors new begot:
Cropp'd are the flower-de-luces in your arms;
Of England's coat one half is cut away.
And again in the same play:[54]
LA PUCELLE. I am prepared: here is my keen-edged sword,
Deck'd with fine flower-de-luces on each side.
In "The Merry Wives of Windsor"[55] there is a humorous play upon words
regarding the heraldic use of "the flower-de-luce."
[53] Part I, Act I, Scene I.
[54] Part I, Act I, Scene II.
[55] Act I, Scene I.
IV
_Fern and Honeysuckle_
THE FERN (_Pteris aquilina_), with its graceful and beautifully
indented leaves and its peculiar acrid scent, delicious to many
persons, would be admitted into the Shakespeare garden because of its
fantastic qualities, even if its beauty did not sue for recognition.
The fern is a fairy plant. According to folk-lore it always blossomed
at twelve o'clock on St. John's eve (June 21), Midsummer night. The
flower is described as a wonderful globe of sapphire blue (according to
other stories a ruby/red); and in a few moments after its blossoming
the seed appeared. _Oberon_, the fairy king, was supposed to watch
for the precious seed so that he might prevent mortals from obtaining
it; but any one fortunate enough to gather fern-seed would be under
the protection of spirits, and would be enabled to realize all his
fondest desires. Furthermore, any one who wore the fern-seed about him
would be invisible. Shakespeare was familiar with this superstition,
for he makes _Gadshill_ exclaim in "King Henry IV":[56] "We steal as
in a castle, cock-sure: we have the receipt of fern-seed, we walk
invisible."
[56] Part I, Act II, Scene I.
An old account tells us: