Chapter XIII · OCCUPATIONS OUT OF DOORS.—THE PLEASURE-GARDEN.—THE LOVE OF FLOWERS, AND THE FASHION OF MAKING GARLANDS.—FORMALITIES OF THE PROMENADE.—GARDENING IN THE MIDDLE AGES.

Humboldt, in his “Cosmos,” has dwelt on the taste for the beauties of nature which has prevailed among various peoples, and at different periods of the world’s history, but he appears to me to have by no means appreciated or done justice to the force of this sentiment among our forefathers in the middle ages, and, perhaps I may say, especially in England. In our ancient popular poetry, the mention of the season of the year at which an event happens generally draws from the poet some allusion to the charms of nature peculiar to it, to the sweetness of the flowers, the richness of the fruit, or the harmony of the song of birds. In some of the early romances, each new division of the poem is introduced by an allusion of this kind. Thus, at the opening of what the editor calls the first chapter of the second part of the romance of “Richard Cœur de Lion,” the poet tells us how it— Merye is in the tyme of May, Whenne foulis synge in her lay; Floures on appyl-trees and perye (pear-tree); Smale foules synge merye. Ladyes strowe here boures (chambers) With rede roses and lylye flowres; Gret joye is in frith (grove) and lake. —Weber, ii. 149. Such interruptions of the narrative are frequent in the long romance of “Alexander” (Alexander the Great), and are always expressive. Thus, on one occasion the poet tells us, abruptly enough, how— Whan corn ripeth in every steode (place), Mury (pleasant) it is in feld and hyde (meadow). —Ibid., i. 24. And again, introduced equally abruptly, we are informed—

When, indeed, we consider the confined and dark character of most of the apartments of the feudal dwelling, we cannot be surprised if our mediæval forefathers loved the recreations which brought them into the open air. Castles and country mansions had always their gardens and pleasure-grounds, which were much frequented by all the different branches of the household. The readers of Chaucer will remember the description of the “noble” knight January— Amonges other of his honest thinges, He had a gardyn walled al with stoon, So fair a gardyn wot I no wher noon. It is implied, at least, that this garden was extensive, and— This noble knight, this January the olde, Such deynté hath in it to walk and playe, That he wold no wight suffre bere the keye, Save he himself. —Chaucer, The Marchaundes Tale. So, in the curious popular collection of mediæval stories, entitled the “Seven Sages,” we are told of a rich burgess who Hadde, bihinden his paleys, A fair gardin of nobleys, Ful of appel-tres, and als (also) of pirie (pear-trees); Foules songe therinne murie. Amideward that gardyn fre, So wax (grew) a pinnote-tre, That hadde fair bowes and frut; Ther under was al his dedut (pleasure). He made ther-under a grene bench, And drank ther under many a sschench (cupful). —Weber, iii. 23. And again, in the same collection of stories, a prudent mother, counselling her daughter, tells her— Daughter, thi loverd (lord) hath a gardin, A wel fair ympe (young tree) is tharin; A fair harbeth (arbour) hit overspredeth, Alle his solas therinne he ledeth. —Weber, iii. 69. In Chaucer’s “Frankeleynes Tale,” when the lady Dorigen was in want of amusement to make her forget the absence of her husband, her friends, finding that the sea-shore was not sufficiently gay,— Schope hem for to pleien somwhere elles, They leden hire by rivers and by welles, And eke in other places delitables; They dauncen, and they pley at ches and tables. So on a day, right in the morwe tide, Unto a gardeyn that was ther beside, In which that they had made her ordinance Of vitaile, and of other purveance, They gon and plaie hem al the longe day: And this was on the sixte morwe of May, Which May had painted with his softe schoures This gardeyn ful of leves and of floures: And craft of mannes hond so curiously Arrayed had this gardeyn of suche pris As if it were the verray paradis. * * * * * And after dinner gan thay to daunce And singe also; sauf Dorigen alone. An important incident in the story here occurs, after which—

It would be easy to multiply such descriptions as the foregoing, but we will only refer to the well-known one at the commencement of the “Romance of the Rose,” where the carolling is described with more minuteness than usual. There were employed minstrels, and “jogelours,” and apparently even tumblers, which are thus described in Chaucer’s English version:— Tho (then) myghtist thou karoles sene, And folk daunce and mery bene, And made many a faire tournyng Upon the grene gras springyng. There myghtist thou se these flowtours, Mynstrales and eke jogelours, That wel to synge dide her peyne, Somme songe songes of Loreyne; For in Loreyn her notes bee Fulle swetter than in this contré. There was many a tymbester, And saillouris (jumpers, or tumblers), that I dar wel swere Couthe (knew) her craft ful parfitly, The tymbris up ful sotilly They caste and hente fulle ofte Upon a fynger faire and softe, That they ne failide never mo. Ful fetys damyseles two, Ryght yonge, and fulle of semelyhede, In kirtles and noon other wede, And faire tressed every tresse, Hadde Myrthe doon for his noblesse Amydde the karole for to daunce. But herof lieth no remembraunce How that they daunced queyntly, That oon wolde come alle pryvyly Agayn that other, and whan they were Togidre almost, they threwe yfere (in company) Her mouthis so, that thorough her play It semed as they kiste alway. To dauncen welle koude they the gise, What shulde I more to you devyse? These lines show us that our forefathers in the middle ages had their dancing girls, just as they had and still have them in the East; it was one trait of the mixture of Oriental manners with those of Europe which had taken place since the crusades.

In these extracts, indeed, we have allusions to the practices of dancing and singing, of playing at chess and tables, of drinking, and even of dining, in the gardens. Our engraving No. 194, taken from the romance of “Alexander,” in the Bodleian Library, represents a garden scene, in which two royal personages are playing at chess. Dancing in the open air was a very common recreation, and is not unfrequently alluded to. In the Roman de Geste, known by the title of “La Mort de Garin,” a large dinner party is given in a garden— Les napes metent pardeanz un jardin. —Mort de Garin, p. 28. And, in the “Roman de Berte” (p. 4), Charles Martel is represented as dining similarly in the garden, at the midsummer season, when the rose was in blossom—

There is an early Latin story of a man who had a cross-grained wife. One day he invited some friends to dinner, and set out his table in his garden, by the side of a river (fecit poni mensam in hortu suo prope aquam). The lady seated herself by the water-side, at a little distance from the table, and cast a very forbidding look upon her husband’s guests; upon which he said to her, “Show a pleasant countenance to our guests, and come nearer the table;” but she only moved further off, and nearer the brink of the river, with her back turned to the water. He repeated his invitation in a more angry tone, in reply to which, to show her ill-humour, she drew further back, with a quick movement of ill-temper, through which, forgetting the nearness of the river, she fell into it, and was drowned. The husband, pretending great grief, sent for a boat, and proceeded up the stream in search of her body. This excited some surprise among his neighbours, who suggested to him that he should go down the stream, and not up. “Ah!” said he, “you did not know my wife—she did everything in contradiction, and I firmly believe that her body has floated against the current, and not with it.”

Even among the aristocratic class the garden was often the place for giving audience and receiving friends. In the romance of “Garin le Loherain,” a messenger sent to the count Fromont, one of the great barons, finds him sitting in a garden surrounded by his friends—

A favourite occupation of the ladies in the middle ages was making garlands and chaplets of flowers. In the “Lai d’Aristote” (Barbazan, iii. 105, 107), king Alexander’s beautiful mistress is described as descending early in the morning, walking in the garden alone, and making herself a chaplet of flowers. In another fabliau, published in Germany by Adelbert Keller, a Saracenic maiden descends from her chamber into the garden, performs her toilette at the fountain there, and then makes herself a chaplet of flowers and leaves, which she puts on her head. So Emelie, in Chaucer’s “Knights Tale,”— Iclothed was sche fressh for to devyse. Hire yolwe (yellow) heer was browdid in a tresse Byhynde hire bak, a yerde long, I gesse. And in the gardyn at the sonne uprise (sun-rise) Sche walketh up and doun wheer as hire liste; Sche gadereth floures, partye whyte and reede, To make a certeyn gerland for hire heede, And as an aungel hevenly sche song. A little further on, Arcyte goes at daybreak into the fields to make him a chaplet, of the leaves of woodbine or hawthorn, for it must be remembered that this takes place in the month of May, which was especially the season for wearing garlands. In “Blonde of Oxford,” Jean of Dammartin, seeking his mistress, finds her in a meadow making herself a chaplet of flowers— A dont de la chambre s’avance, De là le vit en i. prael U ele faisoit un capiel. —Blonde of Oxford, p. 30. Our cut No. 195, taken from a well-known manuscript in the British Museum, of the beginning of the fourteenth century (MS. Reg. 2 B. vii.), represents a party of ladies in the garden, gathering flowers, and making garlands. The love of flowers, as I have stated in a former chapter, seems to have prevailed generally among our Anglo-Saxon forefathers, and affectionate allusions to them occur, not unfrequently, in the literary remains of that early period. Many of our old favourite garden-flowers are, I believe, derived from the Anglo-Saxon gardens. Proofs of a similar attachment to flowers might be quoted in abundance from the writings of the periods subsequent to the entrance of the Normans. The wearing of garlands or chaplets of flowers was a common practice with both sexes. In the romantic history of the Fitz-Warines, written in the thirteenth century, the hero, in travelling, meets a young knight who, in token of his joyous humour, carries a chaplet of flowers on his head. In the later English romance of the “Squyer of Lowe Degree,” when the “squyer” was preparing to do his office of carver in the hall— There he araied him in scarlet red, And set a chaplet upon his hed; A belte about his sydes two, White brod barres to and fro. Walter de Biblesworth talks of ladies dancing the carole, their heads crowned with garlands of the blue-bottle flower— Mener karole Desouz chapeau de blaverole. —Vocabularies, p. 161. Garlands of flowers were also the common rewards for success in the popular games.

All these enjoyments naturally rendered the garden a favourite and important part of every man’s domestic establishment; during the warmer months of the year it was a chosen place of resort, especially after dinner. In the romance of “Garin le Loherain,” Begues is represented as descending from his palace, after dinner, to walk with his fair wife Beatrice in his garden— En son palais fu Begues de Belin; Après mangier entra en un jardin, Aveuc lui fu la belle Biatris. —Roman de Garin, vol. ii. p. 97. In another part of the same romance, Begues de Belin and his barons, on rising from the table, went to seek recreation in the fields— Quant mangié ont et beu à loisir, Les napes ostent, et en prés sunt sailli. —Ibid., vol. i. p. 203. The manuscript in the British Museum, from which we took our last illustration, furnishes the accompanying representation of a group of ladies walking in the garden, and gathering flowers (No. 196).

In the “Ménagier de Paris,” compiled about the year 1393, its author, addressing his young wife, treats briefly of the behaviour of a woman when she is walking out, and especially when passing along the streets of a town, or going to church. “As you go,” he says, “look straight before you, with your eye-lids low and fixed, looking forward to the ground, at five toises (thirty feet) before you, and not looking at, or turning your eyes, to man or woman who may be to your right or left, nor looking upwards, nor changing your look from one place to another, nor laughing, nor stopping to speak to anybody in the street” (vol. i. p. 15). It must be confessed that this is, in some points, rather hard counsel for a lady to follow; but it is consistent with the general system of formalities of behaviour in the middle ages, upon which the ladies gladly took their revenge when removed from constraint. When two or more persons walked together, it was the custom to hold each other by the hands, not to walk arm-in-arm, which appears to be a very modern practice. In the romance of “Ogier le Danois,” the emperor and Ogier, when reconciled, are thus represented, walking in a friendly manner hand in hand. The ladies in our last engraving are walking in this manner; and in our next (No. 197),—taken from a copy, given in M. du Sommerard’s “Album,” from a manuscript in the library of the arsenal at Paris, written and illuminated for a prince of the house of Burgundy, in the fifteenth century,—the lords and ladies of a noble or princely household are represented as walking out in the same manner. It is well known that the court of Burgundy, in the fifteenth century, offered the model of strict etiquette. This illustration gives us also a very good picture of a street scene of the period to which it belongs. The height of gentility, however, at least, in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, seems to have been to hold the lady by the finger only. It is in this manner that, in the romance of “Ogier le Danois,” the hero holds the princess Gloriande— Donques enmainne le bon Danois Ogier, E Gloriande, qui par le doit le tient. —Roman d’Ogier, p. 110. So, in the romance of “La Violette,” at the festivities given by the king, the guests “distributed themselves in couples in the hall (i. e. a gentleman with a lady), one taking the other by the finger, and so they arranged themselves two and two”—

In the curious poem entitled “La Court de Paradis,” the sainted ladies in heaven are represented as thus walking and holding each other by the finger,— L’une tint l’autre par les dois. —Barbazan, iii. 139. As a mark of great familiarity, two princes, Pepin’s son, Charles, and the duke Namles, are represented in the romance of “Ogier” as one, Charles, holding his hand on the duke’s shoulder, while the duke held him by his mantle, as they walked along; they were going to church together:—

It may be remarked that sitting was equally a matter of etiquette with walking, though we sometimes meet with ladies and gentlemen seated in a manner which is anything but ceremonious. In the annexed cut (No. 198), taken from a manuscript of the fourteenth century, the reference to which I have unfortunately lost, a number of ladies, seated on the ground, and apparently in the open air, are listening to the admonitions of an episcopal preacher.

As I have introduced the subject of the love of our forefathers for trees and flowers, some account of gardening in the middle ages will not be out of place, especially as what has hitherto been written on the history of gardening in England during this early period, has been very imperfect and incorrect. We have no direct information relating to the gardens of our Anglo-Saxon forefathers—in fact, our knowledge is limited to a few words gathered from the old vocabularies. The ordinary names for a garden, wyrt-tun and wyrt-geard, a plant-inclosure and a plant-yard, are entirely indefinite, for the word wyrt was applied to all plants whatever, and perhaps they indicate what we should call the kitchen-garden. The latter word, which was sometimes spelt ort-geard, orc-geard, and orcyrd, was the origin of our modern orchard, which is now limited to an inclosure of fruit-trees. Flowers were probably cultivated in the inclosed space round the houses. It would appear that the Saxons, before they became acquainted with the Romans, cultivated very few plants, if we may judge from the circumstance that throughout the Anglo-Saxon period the names by which these were known were nearly all derived from the Latin. The leek appears to have been the principal table vegetable among the Anglo-Saxons, as it was among the Welsh its name, leac, or leah, is pure Anglo-Saxon, and its importance was considered so much above that of any other vegetable, that leac-tun, the leek-garden, became the common name for the kitchen-garden, and leac-weard, a leek-keeper, was used to designate the gardener. The other alliaceous plants were considered as so many varieties of the leek, and were known by such names as enne-leac, or ynne-leac, supposed to be the onion, and gar-leac, or garlic. Bean is also an Anglo-Saxon word; but, singularly enough, the Anglo-Saxons seem not to have been originally acquainted with peas, for the only name they had for them was the Latin pisa, and pyse. Even for the cabbage tribe, the only Anglo-Saxon name we know is simply the Latin brassica; and the colewort, which was named cawl, and cawl-wyrt, was derived from the Latin caulis. So the turnip was called næpe, from the Latin napus; and rædic, or radish, is perhaps from raphanus.29 Garden cresses, parsley, mint, sage, rue, and other herbs,30 were in use, but mostly, except the cresses, with Latin names.

We have long lists of flowering plants in the Anglo-Saxon vocabularies, but as they are often difficult to identify, and, being chiefly enumerated for their medicinal qualities, are mostly wild plants, they throw little light on the character of the flower-garden. For the garden rose and the lily they used the Roman names rose and lilie; the latter appears to have been an especially favourite flower among the Anglo-Saxons. Among other plants, evidently belonging to the garden, are suthernwood, sutherne-wude, the turnsole or sunflower, called sigel-hwerfe (the gem-turned) or solsæce (which is merely the Latin solsequium), the violet (clæfre), the marigold, called read-clæfre, the gilliflower, hwit-clæfre, the periwinkle, pervincæ, the honeysuckle, hunig-sucle, the piony, for which the Anglo-Saxons had only the Latin word pionia, the daisy, dæges-eage, and the laur-beam, which was perhaps the bay-tree rather than the laurel.

The chief fruit of the Anglo-Saxons was undoubtedly the apple, the name of which, æppel, belongs to their language. The tree was called an apulder, and the only varieties mentioned are the surmelst apulder, or souring apple-tree, and the swite apulder, or sweeting apple-tree. The Anglo-Saxons had orchards containing only apple-trees, to which they gave the name of an apulder-tun, or apple-tree garden; of the fruit of which they made what they called, and we still call, cider, and which they also called æppel-win, or apple-wine. They appear to have received the pear from the Romans, as its name pera, a pear, and piriga, a pear-tree, was evidently taken from pirus. They had also derived from the Roman gardens, no doubt, the cherry-tree (cyrs-treow, or ciris-beam, from the Latin cerasus), the peach (persoc-treow, from persicarius), the mulberry (mor-beam, from morus), the chestnut (cysten, cyst, or cystel-beam, from castaneus),31 perhaps the almond (magdala-treow, from amigdalus), the fig (fic-beam, from ficus), and the pine (pin-treow, from pinus). The small kernels of the pine were used very extensively in the middle ages, in the same way as olives. We must add to these the plum (plum-treow), the name of which is Anglo-Saxon; the medlar, which was known in Anglo-Saxon by a very unexplainable name, but one which was preferred to a comparatively recent period; the quince, which was called a cod-æple, or bag-apple; the nut (hnutu), and the hazel-nut (hæsel-hnutu). They called the olive an oil-tree (ale-beam), which would seem to prove that they considered its principal utility to be for making oil. The vine was well-known to the Anglo-Saxons; they called it the win-treow, or wine-tree, its fruit, winberige, or wine berries, and a bunch of grapes, geclystre, a cluster. We find no Anglo-Saxon words for gooseberries or currants; but our forefathers were well acquainted with the strawberry (strea-berige) and the raspberry, which they called hynd-berige. Perhaps these last-mentioned fruits, which are known to be natives of Britain, were known only in their wild state.32

The earliest account of an English garden is given by Alexander Neckam, who flourished in the latter half of the twelfth century, in the sixty-sixth chapter of the second book of his treatise, De naturis rerum, which exists only in manuscripts (I quote from one in the British Museum, MS. Reg. 12 G. xi.). He introduces at least one plant, the mandrake, which was fabulous, and gives several names which I shall be obliged to leave in his original Latin, as, perhaps through corruption of the text, I cannot interpret them, but there can be little doubt that it is in general a correct enumeration of the plants and trees cultivated in a complete English garden of the period. “A garden,” he says, “should be adorned on this part with roses, lilies, the marigold, molis, and mandrakes, and on that part with parsley, cost, fennel, southernwood, coriander, sage, savery, hyssop, mint, rue, dittany, smallage, pellitory, lettuce, cresses, ortulano, and the piony. Let there also be beds (areæ) enriched with onions, leeks, garlic, melons, and scallions (hinnuilis). The garden is also ennobled by the cucumber which creeps on its belly, and by the soporiferous poppy, as well as by the daffodil and the acanthus. Nor let pot-herbs be wanting, if you can help it, such as beets, herb mercury, orache, the acedula, (sorrel?) and the mallow. It is useful also to the gardener to have anise, mustard, white pepper, and wormwood.” Neckam then goes on to the fruit-trees. “A noble garden,” he says, “will give you medlars, quinces, the pearmain (volema), peaches, pears of St. Regle, pomegranates, citrons (or lemons), oranges, almonds, dates, and figs.” When Neckam speaks of a “noble garden,” he of course speaks of that of a great baron or prince, and enumerates fruits of choice, and mostly above the common range. Medlars and quinces were formerly held in great esteem, and much used. I have ventured to interpret volema as meaning the pearmain, which was considered one of the choicest apples, as the apple is not mentioned in the list, and as in one of the early glossaries that meaning is attached to the word. Peaches were, as we have seen, known to the Anglo-Saxons; and in 1276 we find slips of peach-trees mentioned in an official record as planted in the king’s garden at Westminster. The pear of St. Regle was one of the choice kinds of pears brought from France, and it and several other kinds of pears are enumerated in the accounts of the earl of Lincoln’s garden in Holborn (London) in 1296. It is rather surprising that Mr. Hudson Turner, in his very valuable volume on domestic architecture, where he supposes that mala aurea in Neckam’s list were intended for the golden apples of the Hesperides, should not have known that the malum aureum of the middle ages was the orange. Pomegranates, citrons, oranges, almonds, dates, and figs, are known to have been cultivated in England at different periods, but it is not probable that the fruit came often to perfection. It may be remarked that Neckam gives a separate chapter to the cultivation of the vine, which belonged to the vineyard, and not to the garden. After an enumeration of plants which were not grown in Western Europe, Neckam gives a list of others, known for their medicinal qualities, some of which can hardly have been planted in a garden, unless it belonged to a physician; although it appears to have been the custom to devote a corner of the garden to the medicinal plants most in use, in order that they might be ready at hand when wanted. The gardener’s tools in the twelfth century, as enumerated by Neckam in his treatise De Utensilibus, were few and simple; he had an axe, or twibill, a knife for grafting, a spade, and a pruning-hook.

John de Garlande lived during the first half of the thirteenth century. He was an Englishman, but had established himself as a scholar in the university of Paris, so that the description of his garden which he gives in his “Dictionarius” may be considered as that of a garden in the neighbourhood of Paris, which, however, probably hardly differed from a garden in England. It may be considered as the garden of a respectable burgher. “In master John’s garden are these plants, sage, parsley, dittany, hyssop, celandine, fennel, pellitory, the rose, the lily, and the violet; and at the side (i. e. in the hedge), the nettle, the thistle, and foxgloves. His garden also contains medicinal herbs, namely, mercury and the mallow, agrimony, with nightshade, and the marigold.” Master John’s gardener had also a garden for his potherbs, in which grew borage, leeks, garlic, mustard, onions, cibols, and scallions; and in his shrubbery grew pimpernel, mouseare, selfheal, buglos, adderstongue, and “other herbs good for men’s bodies.”33 Master John had in his fruit-garden, cherry-trees, pear-trees, apple-trees, plum-trees, quinces, medlars, peaches, chestnuts, nuts, wallnuts, figs, and grapes. Walter de Bibblesworth, writing in England towards the close of the thirteenth century, enumerates as the principal fruit-trees in a common garden, apples, pears, and cherries— Pomere, perere, e cerecer; and adds the plum-tree (pruner), and the quince-tree (coingner).

The cherry, indeed, appears to have been one of the most popular of fruits in England, during the mediæval period. The records of the time contain purchases of cherry-trees for the king’s garden in Westminster in 1238 and 1277, and cherries and cherry-trees are enumerated in all the glossaries from the times of the Anglo-Saxons to the sixteenth century. The earl of Lincoln had cherry-trees in his garden in Holborn towards the close of the thirteenth century, and during the same century we have allusions to the cultivation of the cherry in other parts of the kingdom. The allusions to cherries in the early poetry are not at all unfrequent, and they were closely mixed up with popular manners and feelings. It appears to have been the custom, from a rather early period, to have fairs or feasts, probably in the cherry orchards, during the period that the fruit was ripe, which were called cherry-fairs, and sometimes cherry-feasts; and these are remembered, if they do not still exist, in our great cherry districts, such as Worcestershire and Kent. They were brief moments of great gaiety and enjoyment, and the poets loved to quote them as emblems of the transitory character of all worldly things. In the latter part of the fourteenth century, the poet Gower, speaking of the teachers of religion and morality, says:— They prechen us in audience That no man schalle his soule empeyre (impair), For alle is but a cherye-fayre. And the same writer again:— Sumtyme I drawe into memoyre, How sorow may not ever laste, And so cometh hope in at laste, Whan I non other foode knowe; And that endureth but a throwe, Ryght as it were a chery-feste. So again, under the reign of Henry IV., about the year 1411, Occleve, in his poem “De regimine principum,” recently printed for the Roxburgh Club, says (p. 47),—

During the rest of the fifteenth century, the allusions to the cherry-fairs are very frequent.34 Yet in face of all this, and still more, abundant evidence, Loudon (“Encyclopædia of Gardening,” edition of 1850) says, “Some suppose that the cherries introduced by the Romans into Britain were lost, and that they were re-introduced in the time of Henry VIII. by Richard Haines (it should be Harris), the fruiterer to that monarch. But though we have no proof that cherries were in England at the time of the Norman conquest, or for some centuries after it, yet Warton has proved, by a quotation from Lidgate, a poet who wrote about or before 1415, that the hawkers in London were wont to expose cherries for sale, in the same manner as is now done early in the season.”

To turn from the fruit-garden to the flower-garden, modern writers have fallen into many similar mistakes as to the supposed recent date of the introduction of various plants into this country. Loudon, for instance, says that we owe the introduction of the gilliflower, or clove-pink (dianthus caryophyllus), to the Flemings, who took refuge on our shores from the savage persecutions of the duke of Alva, in the latter half of the sixteenth century; whereas this flower was certainly well known, under the name of gillofres, ages before. Roses, lilies, violets, and periwinkles, seem to have continued to be the favourite garden-flowers. A manuscript of the fifteenth century in the British Museum (MS. Sloane, No. 1201) furnishes us with a list of plants then considered necessary for a garden, arranged first alphabetically, and then in classes, of which I will here give verbatim the latter part, as the best illustration of the mediæval notion of a garden, and as being, at the same time, a very complete list. After the alphabetical list, the manuscript goes on:—

Of the same herbes for potage.

Borage, langdebefe35, vyolettes, malowes, marcury, daundelyoun, avence, myntes, sauge, parcely, goldes36, mageroum37, ffenelle, carawey, red nettylle, oculus Christi38, daysys, chervelle, lekez, colewortes, rapez, tyme, cyves, betes, alysaundre, letyse, betayne, columbyne, allia, astralogya rotunda, astralogia longa, basillicam39, dylle, deteyne, hertestong, radiche, white pyper, cabagez, sedewale, spynache, coliaundre, ffoothistylle40, orage, cartabus, lympens, nepte, clarey, pacience.

Hertestonge, sorelle, pelytory, pelytory of spayne, deteyne, vyolettes, parcely, myntes.

Cost, costmary, sauge, isope, rose mary, gyllofre, goldez, clarey, mageroum, rue.

Buddus of stanmarche41, vyolette flourez, parcely, red myntes, syves42, cresse of Boleyne, purselane, ramsons, calamyntes, primerose buddus, dayses, rapounses, daundelyoun, rokette, red nettelle, borage flourez, croppus of red ffenelle, selbestryve, chykynwede.

Endyve, rede rose, rose mary, dragans43, skabiose, ewfrace44, wermode, mogwede, beteyne, wylde tansey, sauge, isope, ersesmart.

Gyllofre gentyle, mageroum gentyle, brasyle, palma Christi, stycadose, meloncez, arcachaffe, scalacely45, philyppendula46, popy royalle, germaundre, cowsloppus of Jerusalem, verveyne, dylle, seynt Mare, garlek.

Parsenepez, turnepez, radyche, karettes, galyngale, eryngez47, saffrone.

Vynes, rosers, lylés, thewberies48, almondez, bay-trees, gourdes, date-trese, peche-trese, pyneappulle, pyany romain, rose campy, cartabus, seliane, columbyne gentyle, elabre.

The processes of gardening were simple and easy, and the gardener’s skill consisted chiefly in the knowledge of the seasons for sowing and planting different herbs and trees, and of the astrological circumstances under which these processes could be performed most advantageously. The great ambition of the mediæval horticulturist was to excel in the various mysteries of grafting, and he entertained theories on this subject of the most visionary character, many of which were founded on the writings of the ancients; for the mediæval theories were accustomed to select from the doctrines of antiquity that which was most visionary, and it usually became still more visionary in their hands. Two English treatises on gardening were current in the fifteenth century, one founded upon the Latin treatise of Palladius, and entitled “Godfrey upon Palladie de Agricultura,” the other by Nicholas Bollarde, a monk of Westminster—the monks were great gardeners. These treatises occur not unfrequently in manuscripts, and both are found in the British Museum, in the Sloane MS., No. 7. An abridgment of them was edited by Mr. Halliwell, from the Porkington manuscript, in a collection of “Early English Miscellanies,” printed for the Warton Club. In these treatises, cherry-trees appear to have been more than any others the subjects of experiment, and to have been favourite stocks for grafting. Among the receipts given in these treatises we may mention those for making cherries grow without stones, and other fruit without cores; for making the fruit of trees bear any colour you like; for making old trees young; for making sour fruit sweet; and “to have grapes ripe as soon as pears or cherries.” This was to be brought about by grafting the vine on a cherry-tree, according to the following directions, the spelling of which I modernise:—“Set a vine by a cherry till it grow, and at the beginning of February when time is, make a hole through the cherry-tree at what height thou wilt, and draw through the vine branch so that it fill the hole, and shave away the old bark of the vine as much as shall be in the hole, and put it in so that the part shaven fill the hole full, and let it stand a year till they be ‘souded’ together, then cut away the root end of the vine, and lap it with clay round about, and keep it so after other graftings aforesaid.” This is from Nicholas Bollarde. Godfrey upon Palladius tells us how “to have many roses. Take the hard pepins that be right ripe, and sow them in February or March, and when they spring, water them well, and after a year complete thou mayst transplant them; and if thou wilt have timely (early) roses, delve about the roots one or two handbreadths, and water their scions with warm water; and for to keep them long, put them in honeycombs.” According to the receipts edited by Mr. Halliwell, “If thou wilt that in the stone of a peach-apple (this was the ordinary name for a peach) be found a nut-kernel, graft a spring (sprout) of a peach-tree on the stock of a nut-tree. Also a peach-tree shall bring forth pomegranates, if it be sprong (sprinkled) oft times with goat’s milk three days when it beginneth to flower. Also the apples of a peach-tree shall wax red, if its scion be grafted on a playne tree.” Such were the intellectual vagaries of “superstitious eld.”

Peaches are frequently mentioned among the fruit of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries; but nectarines or apricots are not met with before the fifteenth century. The latter were called in old English by their French name of abricots, and subsequently, and still more frequently, apricocks.