The plant-lore & garden-craft of Shakespeare
striking ornament in the wild hedgerows and copses, while its flowers
yield the highly perfumed Elder-flower water, and its fruits give the
Elder wine; but the tree runs into many varieties, several of which are
very ornamental, the leaves being often very finely divided and jagged,
and variegated both with golden and silver blotches. There is a handsome
species from Canada (Sambucus Canadensis), which is worth growing in
shrubberies, as it produces its pure white flowers in autumn.
FOOTNOTES:
[85:1] Called also Eldern in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries,
and still earlier, Eller or Ellyr ("Catholicon Anglicum"). "The Ellern
is a tree with long bowes, ful sounde and sad wythout, and ful holowe
within, and ful of certayne nesshe pyth."--_Clanvil de prop._
[85:2] From the facility with which the hard wood can be hollowed out,
the tree was from very ancient times called the Bore-tree. See
"Catholicon Anglicum," s.v. Bur-tre.
ELM.
(1) _Adriana._
Thou art an Elm, my husband, I a Vine,
Whose weakness married to thy stronger state
Makes me with thy strength to communicate.
_Comedy of Errors_, act ii, sc. 2 (176).
(2) _Titania._
The female Ivy so
Enrings the barky fingers of the Elm.
_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act iv, sc. 1 (48).
(3) _Poins._
Answer, thou dead Elm, answer![87:1]
_2nd Henry IV_, act ii, sc, 4 (358).
Though Vineyards were more common in England in the sixteenth century
than now, yet I can nowhere find that the Vines were ever trained, in
the Italian fashion, to Elms or Poplars. Yet Shakespeare does not stand
alone in thus speaking of the Elm in its connection with the Vine.
Spenser speaks of "the Vine-prop Elme," and Milton--
"They led the Vine
To wed her Elm; she spoused, about him twines
Her marriageable arms, and with her brings
Her dower, the adopted clusters, to adorn
His barren leaves."
And Browne--
"She, whose inclination
Bent all her course to him-wards, let him know
He was the Elm, whereby her Vine did grow."
_Britannia's Pastorals_, book i, song 1.
"An Elm embraced by a Vine,
Clipping so strictly that they seemed to be
One in their growth, one shade, one fruit, one tree;
Her boughs his arms; his leaves so mixed with hers,
That with no wind he moved, but straight she stirs."
_Ibid._, ii, 4.
But I should think that neither Shakespeare, nor Browne, nor Milton ever
saw an English Vine trained to an Elm; they were simply copying from the
classical writers.
The Wych Elm is probably a true native, but the more common Elm of our
hedgerows is a tree of Southern Europe and North Africa, and is of such
modern introduction into England that in Evelyn's time it was rarely
seen north of Stamford. It was probably introduced into Southern England
by the Romans.
FOOTNOTES:
[87:1] Why Falstaff should be called a dead Elm is not very apparent;
but the Elm was associated with death as producing the wood for coffins.
Thus Chaucer speaks of it as "the piler Elme, the cofre unto careyne,"
_i.e._, carrion ("Parliament of Fowles," 177).
ERINGOES.
_Falstaff._
Let the sky rain Potatoes; let it thunder to the tune of Green
Sleeves, hail kissing-comfits, and snow Eringoes.
_Merry Wives_, act v, sc. 5 (20).
Gerard tells us that Eringoes are the candied roots of the Sea Holly
(_Eryngium maritimum_), and he gives the recipe for candying them. I am
not aware that the Sea Holly is ever now so used, but it is a very
handsome plant as it is seen growing on the sea shore, and its fine
foliage makes it an ornamental plant for a garden. But as used by
Falstaff I am inclined to think that the vegetable he wished for was the
Globe Artichoke, which is a near ally of the Eryngium, was a favourite
diet in Shakespeare's time, and was reputed to have certain special
virtues which are not attributed to the Sea Holly, but which would more
accord with Falstaff's character.[88:1] I cannot, however, anywhere find
that the Artichoke was called Eringoes.
FOOTNOTES:
[88:1] For these supposed virtues of the Artichoke see Bullein's "Book
of Simples."
FENNEL.
(1) _Ophelia._
There's Fennel for you and Columbines.
_Hamlet_, act iv, sc 5 (189).
(2) _Falstaff._
And a' plays at quoits well, and eats conger and Fennel.
_2nd Henry IV_, act ii, sc. 4 (266).
The Fennel was always a plant of high reputation. The Plain of Marathon
was so named from the abundance of Fennel (+marathron+) growing on
it.[89:1] And like all strongly scented plants, it was supposed by the
medical writers to abound in "virtues." Gower, describing the star
Pleiades, says--
"Eke his herbe in speciall
The vertuous Fenel it is."
_Conf. Aman._, lib. sept. (3, 129. Paulli.)
These virtues cannot be told more pleasantly than by Longfellow--
"Above the lowly plants it towers,
The Fennel with its yellow flowers,
And in an earlier age than ours
Was gifted with the wondrous powers--
Lost vision to restore.
It gave men strength and fearless mood,
And gladiators fierce and rude
Mingled it with their daily food:
And he who battled and subdued
A wreath of Fennel wore."
"Yet the virtues of Fennel, as thus enumerated by Longfellow, do not
comprise either of those attributes of the plant which illustrate the
two passages from Shakespeare. The first alludes to it as an emblem of
flattery, for which ample authority has been found by the
commentators.[89:2] Florio is quoted for the phrase 'Dare finocchio,'
_to give fennel_, as meaning _to flatter_. In the second quotation the
allusion is to the reputation of Fennel as an inflammatory herb with
much the same virtues as are attributed to Eringoes."--Mr. J. F. MARSH
in _The Garden_.
The English name was directly derived from its Latin name
_Foeniculum_, which may have been given it from its hay-like smell
(_foenum_), but this is not certain. We have another English word
derived from the Giant Fennel of the South of Europe (_ferula_); this is
the ferule, an instrument of punishment for small boys, also adopted
from the Latin, the Roman schoolmaster using the stalks of the Fennel
for the same purpose as the modern schoolmaster uses the cane.
The early poets looked on the Fennel as an emblem of the early summer--
"Hyt befell yn the month of June
When the Fenell hangeth yn toun."
_Libæus Diaconus._(1225).
As a useful plant, the chief use is as a garnishing and sauce for fish.
Large quantities of the seed are said to be imported to flavour gin, but
this can scarcely be called useful. As ornamental plants, the large
Fennels (F. Tingitana, F. campestris, F. glauca, &c.) are very desirable
where they can have the necessary room.
FOOTNOTES:
[89:1] "Fennelle or Fenkelle, feniculum maratrum."--_Catholicon
Anglicum._
[89:2]
"_Christophers._
No, my _good lord_.
_Count._
Your _good lord_! O, how this smells of Fennel."
BEN JONSON, _The Case Altered_, act ii, sc. 2.
FERN.
_Gadshill._
We have the receipt of Fern-seed--we walk invisible.
_Chamberlain._
Now, by my faith, I think you are more beholding to the night
than to Fern-seed for your walking invisible.
_1st Henry IV_, act ii, sc. 1 (95).
There is a fashion in plants as in most other things, and in none is
this more curiously shown than in the estimation in which Ferns are and
have been held. Now-a-days it is the fashion to admire Ferns, and few
would be found bold enough to profess an indifference to them. But it
was not always so. Theocritus seems to have admired the Fern--
"Like Fern my tresses o'er my temples streamed."
_Idyll_ xx. (_Calverley._)
"Come here and trample dainty Fern and Poppy blossom."
_Idyll_ v. (_Calverley._)
But Virgil gives it a bad character, speaking of it as "filicem
invisam." Horace is still more severe, "neglectis urenda filix
innascitur agris." The Anglo-Saxon translation of Boethius spoke
contemptuously of the "Thorns, and the Furzes, and the Fern, and all the
weeds" (Cockayne). And so it was in Shakespeare's time. Butler spoke of
it as the--
"Fern, that vile, unuseful weed,
That grows equivocably without seed."
Cowley spoke the opinion of his day as if the plant had neither use nor
beauty--
"Nec caulem natura mihi, nec Floris honorem,
Nec mihi vel semen dura Noverca dedit--
Nec me sole fovet, nec cultis crescere in hortis
Concessum, et Foliis gratia nulla meis--
Herba invisa Deis poteram coeloque videri,
Et spurio Terræ nata puerperio."
_Plantarum_, lib. i.
And later still Gilpin, who wrote so much on the beauties of country
scenery at the close of the last century, has nothing better to say for
Ferns than that they are noxious weeds, to be classed with "Thorns and
Briers, and other ditch trumpery." The fact, no doubt, is that Ferns
were considered something "uncanny and eerie;" our ancestors could not
understand a plant which seemed to them to have neither flower nor seed,
and so they boldly asserted it had neither. "This kinde of Ferne," says
Lyte in 1587, "beareth neither flowers nor sede, except we shall take
for sede the black spots growing on the backsides of the leaves, the
whiche some do gather thinking to worke wonders, but to say the trueth
it is nothing els but trumperie and superstition." A plant so strange
must needs have strange qualities, but the peculiar power attributed to
it of making persons invisible arose thus:--It was the age in which the
doctrine of signatures was fully believed in; according to which
doctrine Nature, in giving particular shapes to leaves and flowers, had
thereby plainly taught for what diseases they were specially
useful.[91:1] Thus a heart-shaped leaf was for heart disease, a
liver-shaped for the liver, a bright-eyed flower was for the eyes, a
foot-shaped flower or leaf would certainly cure the gout, and so on; and
then when they found a plant which certainly grew and increased, but of
which the organs of fructification were invisible, it was a clear
conclusion that properly used the plant would confer the gift of
invisibility. Whether the people really believed this or not we cannot
say,[92:1] but they were quite ready to believe any wonder connected
with the plant, and so it was a constant advertisement with the quacks.
Even in Addison's time "it was impossible to walk the streets without
having an advertisement thrust into your hand of a doctor who had
arrived at the knowledge of the Green and Red Dragon, and had discovered
the female Fern-seed. Nobody ever knew what this meant" ("Tatler," No.
240). But to name all the superstitions connected with the Fern would
take too much space.
The name is expressive; it is a contraction of the Anglo-Saxon _fepern_,
and so shows that some of our ancestors marked its feathery form; and
its history as a garden plant is worth a few lines. So little has it
been esteemed as a garden plant that Mr. J. Smith, the ex-Curator of the