The Book of Herbs by Rosalind Northcote (christmas read aloud txt) 📕
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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:—
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:—
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 IOF THE CHIEF HERBS USED IN THE PRESENT TIME
Venez choisir dans ma corbeille:
De plusieurs les parfums sont doux,
De tous, la vertu sans pareille.
La rose pour l’amant fidèle;
De l’éllebore pour les tous
Et pour l’amitié l’immortelle.
La petite Corbeille de fleurs.
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.
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).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).With juice of Balm and every precious flower.
Merry Wives of Windsor, V. v. 65.
My chaplet.
The Muses Elysium.—Drayton.
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,
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