The plant-lore & garden-craft of Shakespeare
much controversy as the origin of this celebrated charge." It has been
at various times asserted to be an Iris, a Lily, a sword-hilt, a
spearhead, and a toad, or to be simply the Fleur de St. Louis. _Adhuc
sub judice lis est_--and it is never likely to be satisfactorily
settled. I need not therefore dwell on it, especially as my present
business is to settle not what the Fleur-de-luce meant in the arms of
France, but what it meant in Shakespeare's writings. But here the same
difficulty at once meets us, some writers affirming stoutly that it is a
Lily, others as stoutly that it is an Iris. For the Lily theory there
are the facts that Shakespeare calls it one of the Lilies, and that the
other way of spelling it is Fleur-de-lys. I find also a strong
confirmation of this in the writings of St. Francis de Sales
(contemporary with Shakespeare). "Charity," he says, "comprehends the
seven gifts of the Holy Ghost, and resembles a beautiful Flower-de-luce,
which has six leaves whiter than snow, and in the middle the pretty
little golden hammers" ("Philo," book xi., Mulholland's translation).
This description will in no way fit the Iris, but it may very well be
applied to the White Lily. Chaucer, too, seems to connect the
Fleur-de-luce with the Lily--
"Her nekke was white as the Flour de Lis."
These are certainly strong authorities for saying that the
Flower-de-luce is the Lily. But there are as strong or stronger on the
other side. Spenser separates the Lilies from the Flower-de-luces in his
pretty lines--
"Strow mee the grounde with Daffadown-Dillies,
And Cowslips, and Kingcups, and lovéd Lillies;
The Pretty Pawnce
And the Chevisaunce
Shall match with the fayre Floure Delice."
_Shepherd's Calendar._
Ben Jonson separates them in the same way--
"Bring rich Carnations, Flower-de-luces, Lillies."
Lord Bacon also separates them: "In April follow the double White
Violet, the Wall-flower, the Stock-Gilliflower, the Cowslip, the
Flower-de-luces, and Lilies of all Natures;" and so does Drayton--
"The Lily and the Flower de Lis
For colours much contenting."
_Nymphal V._
In heraldry also the Fleur-de-lis and the Lily are two distinct
bearings. Then, from the time of Turner in 1568, through Gerard and
Parkinson to Miller, all the botanical writers identify the Iris as the
plant named, and with this judgment most of our modern writers
agree.[99:1] We may, therefore, assume that Shakespeare meant the Iris
as the flower given by Perdita, and we need not be surprised at his
classing it among the Lilies. Botanical classification was not very
accurate in his day, and long after his time two such celebrated men as
Redouté and De Candolle did not hesitate to include in the "Liliacæ,"
not only Irises, but Daffodils, Tulips, Fritillaries, and even Orchids.
What Iris Shakespeare especially alluded to it is useless to inquire. We
have two in England that are indigenous--one the rich golden-yellow (_I.
pseudacorus_), which in some favourable positions, with its roots in the
water of a brook, is one of the very handsomest of the tribe; the other
the Gladwyn (_I. foetidissima_), with dull flowers and strong-smelling
leaves, but with most handsome scarlet fruit, which remain on the plant
and show themselves boldly all through the winter and early spring. Of
other sorts there is a large number, so that the whole family, according
to the latest account by Mr. Baker, of Kew, contains ninety-six distinct
species besides varieties. They come from all parts of the world, from
the Arctic Circle to the South of China; they are of all colours, from
the pure white Iris Florentina to the almost black I. Susiana; and of
all sizes, from a few inches to four feet or more. They are mostly easy
of cultivation and increase readily, so that there are few plants better
suited for the hardy garden or more ornamental.
FOOTNOTES:
[99:1] G. Fletcher's Flower-de-luce was certainly the Iris--
"The Flower-de-Luce and the round specks of dew
That hung upon the azure leaves did shew
Like twinkling stars that sparkle in the evening blue."
The "leaves" here must be the petals.
FUMITER, FUMITORY.
(1) _Cordelia._
Crown'd with rank Fumiter and Furrow-weeds.
_King Lear_, act iv, sc. 4 (3).
(_See_ CUCKOO-FLOWERS.)
(2) _Burgundy._
Her fallow leas
The Darnel, Hemlock, and rank Fumitory
Doth root upon.
_Henry V_, act v, sc. 2 (44).
Of Fumitories we have five species in England, all of them weeds in
cultivated grounds and in hedgerows. None of them can be considered
garden plants, but they are closely allied to the Corydalis, of which
there are several pretty species, and to the very handsome Dielytras, of
which one species--D. spectabilis--ranks among the very handsomest of
our hardy herbaceous plants. How the plant acquired its name of
Fumitory--_fume-terre_, earth-smoke--is not very satisfactorily
explained, though many explanations have been given; but that the name
was an ancient one we know from the interesting Stockholm manuscript of
the eleventh century published by Mr. J. Pettigrew, and of which a few
lines are worth quoting. (The poem is published in the "Archæologia,"
vol. xxx.)--
"Fumiter is erbe, I say,
Yt spryngyth [=i] April et in May,
In feld, in town, in yard, et gate,
Yer lond is fat and good in state,
Dun red is his flour
Ye erbe smek lik in colowur."
FURZE.
(1) _Ariel._
So I charm'd their ears,
That calf-like they my lowing follow'd through
Tooth'd Briers, sharp Furzes, pricking Goss, and Thorns.
_Tempest_, act iv, sc. 1 (178).
(2) _Gonzalo._
Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of
barren ground, long Heath, brown Furze, anything.
_Ibid._, act i, sc. 1 (70).
We now call the Ulex Europæus either Gorse, or Furze, or Whin; but in
the sixteenth century I think that the Furze and Gorse were
distinguished (_see_ GORSE), and that the brown Furze was the Ulex. It
is a most beautiful plant, and with its golden blossoms and richly
scented flowers is the glory of our wilder hill-sides. It is especially
a British plant, for though it is found in other parts of Europe, and
even in the Azores and Canaries, yet I believe it is nowhere found in
such abundance or in such beauty as in England. Gerard says, "The
greatest and highest that I did ever see do grow about Excester, in the
West Parts of England;" and those that have seen it in Devonshire will
agree with him. It seems to luxuriate in the damp, mild climate of
Devonshire, and to see it in full flower as it covers the low hills that
abut upon the Channel between Ilfracombe and Clovelly is a sight to be
long remembered. It is, indeed, a plant that we may well be proud of.
Linnæus could only grow it in a greenhouse, and there is a well-known
story of Dillenius that when he first saw the Furze in blossom in
England he fell on his knees and thanked God for sparing his life to see
so beautiful a part of His creation. The story may be apocryphal, but we
have a later testimony from another celebrated traveller who had seen
the glories of tropical scenery, and yet was faithful to the beauties of
the wild scenery of England. Mr. Wallace bears this testimony: "I have
never seen in the tropics such brilliant masses of colour as even
England can show in her Furze-clad commons, her glades of Wild
Hyacinths, her fields of Poppies, her meadows of Buttercups and
Orchises, carpets of yellow, purple, azure blue, and fiery crimson,
which the tropics can rarely exhibit. We have smaller masses of colour
in our Hawthorns and Crab trees, our Holly and Mountain Ash, our Broom,
Foxgloves, Primroses, and purple Vetches, which clothe with gay colours
the length and breadth of our land" ("Malayan Archipelago," ii. 296).
As a garden shrub the Furze may be grown either as a single lawn shrub
or in the hedge or shrubbery. Everywhere it will be handsome both in its
single and double varieties, and as it bears the knife well, it can be
kept within limits. The upright Irish form also makes an elegant shrub,
but does not flower so freely as the typical plant.
GARLICK.
(1) _Bottom._
And, most clear actors, eat no Onions nor Garlic, for we are
to utter sweet breath.
_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act iv, sc. 2 (42).
(2) _Lucio._
He would mouth with a beggar, though she smelt brown bread and
Garlic.
_Measure for Measure_, act iii, sc. 2 (193).
(3) _Hotspur._
I had rather live
With cheese and Garlic in a windmill.
_1st Henry IV_, act iii, sc. 1 (161).
(4) _Menenius._
You that stood so much
Upon the voice of occupation, and
The breath of Garlic-eaters.
_Coriolanus_, act iv, sc. 6 (96).
(5) _Dorcas._
Mopsa must be your mistress; marry, Garlic to mend her kissing
with.
_Winter's Tale_, act iv, sc. 4 (162).
There is something almost mysterious in the Garlick that it should be so
thoroughly acceptable, almost indispensable, to many thousands, while to
others it is so horribly offensive as to be unbearable. The Garlick of
Egypt was one of the delicacies that the Israelites looked back to with
fond regret, and we know from Herodotus that it was the daily food of
the Egyptian labourer; yet, in later times, the Mohammedan legend
recorded that "when Satan stepped out from the Garden of Eden after the
fall of man, Garlick sprung up from the spot where he placed his left
foot, and Onions from that which his right foot touched, on which
account, perhaps, Mohammed habitually fainted at the sight of either."
It was the common food also of the Roman labourer, but Horace could only
wonder at the "dura messorum illia" that could digest the plant "cicutis
allium nocentius." It was, and is the same with its medical virtues.
According to some it was possessed of every virtue,[102:1] so that it
had the name of Poor Man's Treacle (the word treacle not having its
present meaning, but being the Anglicised form of theriake, or
heal-all[103:1]); while, on the other hand, Gerard affirmed "it yieldeth
to the body no nourishment at all; it ingendreth naughty and sharpe
bloud."
Bullein describes it quaintly: "It is a grosse kinde of medicine, verye
unpleasant for fayre Ladies and tender Lilly Rose colloured damsels
which often time profereth sweet breathes before gentle wordes, but both
would do very well" ("Book of Simples"). Yet if we could only divest it
of its evil smell, the wild Wood Garlick would rank among the most
beautiful of our British plants. Its wide leaves are very similar to
those of the Lily of the Valley, and its starry flowers are of the very
purest white. But it defies picking, and where it grows it generally
takes full possession, so that I have known several woods--especially on
the Cotswold Hills--that are to be avoided when the plant is in flower.
The woods are closely carpeted with them, and every step you take brings
out their foetid odour. There are many species grown in the gardens,
some of which are even very sweet smelling (as A. odorum and A.
fragrans); but these are the exceptions, and even these have the Garlick