Folk-lore of Shakespeare Part 51

_Strawberry._ Shakespeare's mention of the strawberry in connection with the nettle, in "Henry V." (i. 1),

"The strawberry grows underneath the nettle, And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best Neighbour'd by fruit of baser quality,"

deserves, says Mr. Ellacombe, a pa.s.sing note. "It was the common opinion in his day that plants were affected by the neighborhood of other plants to such an extent that they imbibed each others virtues and faults. Thus sweet flowers were planted near fruit-trees with the idea of improving the flavor of the fruit, and evil-smelling trees, like the elder, were carefully cleared away from fruit-trees, lest they should be tainted.

But the strawberry was supposed to be an exception to the rule, and was said to thrive in the midst of 'evil communications, without being corrupted.'"

_Thorns._ The popular tradition, which represents the marks on the moon[557] to be that of a man carrying a thorn-bush on his head, is alluded to in "Midsummer-Night's Dream" (v. 1), in the Prologue:

"This man, with lanthorn, dog, and bush of thorn, Presenteth Moonshine."

[557] See p. 68.

Little else is mentioned by Shakespeare with regard to thorns, save that they are generally used by him as the emblems of desolation and trouble.

_Violets._ An old superst.i.tion is alluded to by Shakespeare when he makes Laertes wish that violets may spring from the grave of Ophelia ("Hamlet," v. 1):

"Lay her i' the earth: And from her fair and unpolluted flesh May violets spring!"

an idea which occurs in Persius's "Satires" (i. 39):

"E tumulo fortunataque favilla Nascentur violae."

The violet has generally been a.s.sociated with early death. This, Mr.

Ellacombe considers,[558] "may have arisen from a sort of pity for flowers that were only allowed to see the opening year, and were cut off before the first beauty of summer had come, and so were looked upon as apt emblems of those who enjoyed the bright springtide of life, and no more." Thus, the violet is one of the flowers which Marina carries to hang "as a carpet on the grave" in "Pericles" (iv. 1):

"the yellows, blues, The purple violets, and marigolds, Shall, as a carpet, hang upon thy grave, While summer days do last."

[558] "Plant-Lore of Shakespeare," p. 248.

Again, in that exquisite pa.s.sage in the "Winter's Tale" (iv. 4), where Perdita enumerates the flowers of spring, she speaks of,

"violets, dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes, Or Cytherea's breath;"

upon which Mr. Singer[559] thus comments: "The eyes of Juno were as remarkable as those of Pallas, and

'Of a beauty never yet Equalled in height of tincture.'"

[559] "Shakespeare," vol. iv. p. 76.

The beauties of Greece and other Asiatic nations tinged their eyes of an obscure violet color, by means of some unguent, which was doubtless perfumed, like those for the hair, etc., mentioned by Athenaeus.

_Willow._ From time immemorial the willow has been regarded as the symbol of sadness. Hence it was customary for those who were forsaken in love to wear willow garlands, a practice to which Shakespeare makes several allusions. In "Oth.e.l.lo" (iv. 3), Desdemona, antic.i.p.ating her death, says:

"My mother had a maid call'd 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 express'd her fortune, And she died singing it: that song, to-night, Will not go from my mind."

The following is the song:[560]

"The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree, Sing all a green willow: Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee, Sing willow, willow, willow: The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur'd her moans, Sing willow, willow, willow: Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones, Sing willow, willow, willow: Sing all a green willow must be my garland."

[560] "The old ballad on which Shakespeare formed this song is given in Percy's 'Reliques of Ancient Poetry' (1794, vol. i. p.

208), from a copy in the Pepysian collection. A different version of it may be seen in Chappell's 'Popular Music of the Olden Time' (2d edition, vol. i. p. 207). The original ditty is the lamentation of a lover for the inconstancy of his mistress."-Dyce's "Shakespeare," vol. vii. p. 450.

And further on Emilia says (v. 2):

"I will play the swan, And die in music.-[_Singing_] 'Willow, willow, willow.'"

And, again, Lorenzo, in "Merchant of Venice" (v. 1), narrates:

"In such a night Stood Dido, with a willow in her hand, Upon the wild sea-banks."

It was, too, in reference to this custom that Shakespeare, in "Hamlet"

(iv. 7), represented poor Ophelia hanging her flowers on the "willow aslant a brook." "This tree," says Douce,[561] "might have been chosen as the symbol of sadness from the cx.x.xvii. Psalm (verse 2): 'We hanged our harps upon the willows;' or else from a coincidence between the _weeping_-willow and falling tears." Another reason has been a.s.signed.

The _Agnus castus_ was supposed to promote chast.i.ty, and "the willow being of a much like nature," says Swan, in his "Speculum Mundi" (1635), "it is yet a custom that he which is deprived of his love must wear a willow garland." Bona, the sister of the King of France, on receiving news of Edward the Fourth's marriage with Elizabeth Grey, exclaimed,

"in hope he'll prove a widower shortly, I'll wear the willow garland for his sake."

[561] "Ill.u.s.trations of Shakespeare," p. 105.

_Wormwood._ The use of this plant in weaning infants is alluded to in "Romeo and Juliet" (i. 3), by Juliet's nurse, in the following pa.s.sage:

"For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,

When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple Of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool."

_Yew._ This tree, styled by Shakespeare "the dismal yew" ("t.i.tus Andronicus," ii. 3), apart from the many superst.i.tions a.s.sociated with it, has been very frequently planted in churchyards, besides being used at funerals. Paris, in "Romeo and Juliet" (v. 3), says:

"Under yond yew-trees lay thee all along, Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground; So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread, Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves, But thou shalt hear it."

Although various reasons have been a.s.signed for planting the yew-tree in churchyards, it seems probable that the practice had a superst.i.tious origin. As witches were supposed to exercise a powerful influence over the winds, they were believed occasionally to exert their formidable power against religious edifices. Thus Macbeth says (iv. 1):

"Though you untie the winds, and let them fight Against the churches."

To counteract, therefore, this imaginary danger, our ancestors may have planted the yew-tree in their churchyards, not only on account of its vitality as an evergreen, but as connected in some way, in heathen times, with the influence of evil powers.[562] In a statute made in the latter part of Edward I.'s reign, to prevent rectors from cutting down trees in churchyards, we find the following: "Verum arbores ipsae, propter ventorum impetus ne ecclesiis noceant, saepe plantantur."[563]

[562] Douce's "Ill.u.s.trations of Shakespeare," p. 244.

[563] See Brand's "Pop. Antiq.," 1849, vol. ii. pp. 255-266.

The custom of sticking yew in the shroud is alluded to in the following song in "Twelfth Night" (ii. 4):

"My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare it!

My part of death, no one so true Did share it."

Through being reckoned poisonous, it is introduced in "Macbeth" (iv. 1) in connection with the witches:

"Gall of goat, and slips of yew, Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse."