CHAPTER VIII

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PLANTS.

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

"She was in love; and he she lov'd prov'd mad, And did forsake her; she had a song of willow, An old thing 'twas, but it expressed her fortune, And she died singing it: that song, to-night, Will not go from my mind."

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

_Aconite._[450] This plant, from the deadly virulence of its juice, which, Mr. Turner says, "is of all poysones the most hastie poysone," is compared by Shakespeare to gunpowder, as in "2 Henry IV." (iv. 4):

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

[450] _Aconitum napellus_, Wolf's-bane or Monk's-hood.

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

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

According to Ovid, it derived its name from growing upon rock (Metamorphoses, bk. vii. l. 418):

"Quæ, quia nascuntur, dura vivacia caute, Agrestes aconita vocant."

It is probably derived from the Greek [Greek: akonitos], "without a struggle," in allusion to the intensity of its poisonous qualities. Vergil[451] speaks of it, and tells us how the aconite deceives the wretched gatherers, because often mistaken for some harmless plant.[452] The ancients fabled it as the invention of Hecate,[453] who caused the plant to spring from the foam of Cerberus, when Hercules dragged him from the gloomy regions of Pluto. Ovid pictures the stepdame as preparing a deadly potion of aconite (Metamorphoses, bk. i. l. 147):

"Lurida terribiles miscent aconita novercæ."

[451] "Miseros fallunt aconita legentis" (Georgics, bk. ii. l. 152).

[452] See Ellacombe's "Plant-Lore of Shakespeare," 1878, pp. 7, 8.

[453] Dr. Prior's "Popular Names of British Plants," 1870, pp. 1, 2.

In hunting, the ancients poisoned their arrows with this venomous plant, as "also when following their mortal brutal trade of slaughtering their fellow-creatures."[454] Numerous instances are on record of fatal results through persons eating this plant. In the "Philosophical Transactions" (1732, vol. xxxvii.) we read of a man who was poisoned in that year, by eating some of it in a salad, instead of celery. Dr. Turner mentions the case of some Frenchmen at Antwerp, who, eating the shoots of this plant for masterwort, all died, with the exception of two, in forty-eight hours. The aconitum is equally pernicious to animals.

[454] Phillips, "Flora Historica," 1829, vol. ii. pp. 122, 128.

_Anemone._ This favorite flower of early spring is probably alluded to in the following passage of "Venus and Adonis:"

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

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

"Alas, the Paphian! fair Adonis slain! Tears plenteous as his blood she pours amain, But gentle flowers are born, and bloom around; From every drop that falls upon the ground Where streams his blood, there blushing springs the rose, And where a tear has dropp'd a wind-flower blows."

Other classical writers make the anemone to be the flower of Adonis. Mr. Ellacombe[455] says that although Shakespeare does not actually name the anemone, yet the evidence is in favor of this plant. The "purple color," he adds, is no objection, for purple in Shakespeare's time had a very wide signification, meaning almost any bright color, just as "purpureus" had in Latin.[456]

[455] "Plant-Lore of Shakespeare," pp. 10, 11.

[456] Phillips, "Flora Historica," 1829, vol. i. p. 104.

_Apple._ Although Shakespeare has so frequently introduced the apple into his plays, yet he has abstained from alluding to the extensive folk-lore associated with this favorite fruit. Indeed, beyond mentioning some of the popular nicknames by which the apple was known in his day, little is said about it. The term apple was not originally confined to the fruit now so called, but was a generic name applied to any fruit, as we still speak of the love-apple, pine-apple, etc.[457] So when Shakespeare (Sonnet xciii.) makes mention of Eve's apple, he simply means that it was some fruit that grew in Eden:

"How like Eve's apple doth thy beauty grow, If thy sweet virtue answer not thy show."

[457] Ellacombe's "Plant-Lore of Shakespeare," p. 13.

(_a_) The "apple-John," called in France _deux-années_ or _deux-ans_, because it will keep two years, and considered to be in perfection when shrivelled and withered,[458] is evidently spoken of in "1 Henry IV." (iii. 3), where Falstaff says: "My skin hangs about me like an old lady's loose gown; I am withered like an old apple-John." In "2 Henry IV." (ii. 4) there is a further allusion:

"_1st Drawer._ What the devil hast thou brought there? apple-Johns? thou know'st Sir John cannot endure an apple-John.

_2d Drawer._ Mass, thou sayest true. The prince once set a dish of apple-Johns before him, and told him there were five more Sir Johns, and, putting off his hat, said, 'I will now take my leave of these six dry, round, old, withered knights.'"

[458] Dyce's "Glossary to Shakespeare," p. 15.

This apple, too, is well described by Phillips ("Cider," bk. i.):

"Nor John Apple, whose wither'd rind, entrench'd By many a furrow, aptly represents Decrepit age."

In Ben Jonson's "Bartholomew Fair" (i. 1), where Littlewit encourages Quarlus to kiss his wife, he says: "she may call you an apple-John if you use this." Here apple-John[459] evidently means a procuring John, besides the allusion to the fruit so called.[460]

[459] See Nares's "Glossary," vol. ii. p. 29; probably synonymous with the term "apple-Squire," which formerly signified a pimp.

[460] Forby, in his "Vocabulary of East Anglia," says of this apple, "we retain the name, but whether we mean the same variety of fruit which was so called in Shakespeare's time, it is not possible to ascertain."

(_b_) The "bitter-sweet, or sweeting," to which Mercutio alludes in "Romeo and Juliet" (ii. 4): "Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most sharp sauce;" was apparently a favorite apple, which furnished many allusions to poets. Gower, in his "Confessio Amantis" (1554, fol. 174), speaks of it:

"For all such time of love is lore And like unto the _bitter swete_, For though it thinke a man first sweete, He shall well felen atte laste That it is sower, and maie not laste."

The name is "now given to an apple of no great value as a table fruit, but good as a cider apple, and for use in silk dyeing."[461]

[461] Ellacombe's "Plant-Lore of Shakespeare," p. 16; Dyce's "Glossary," p. 430; Nares's "Glossary," vol. i. p. 81; Coles's "Latin and English Dictionary." "A bitter-suete [apple]--Amari-mellum."

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

"When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl Then nightly sings the staring owl."

The beverage thus formed was called "Lambs-wool," and generally consisted of ale, nutmeg, sugar, toast, and roasted crabs, or apples. It formed the ingredient of the wassail-bowl;[462] and also of the gossip's bowl[463] alluded to in "Midsummer-Night's Dream" (ii. 1), where Puck says:

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

[462] See