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authority for this translation.[167:2] But whenever introduced, it had been long established in England in Shakespeare's time.

It must have been a common tree even in Anglo-Saxon times, for the favourite drink, Morat, was a compound of honey flavoured with Mulberries (Turner's "Anglo-Saxons").[167:3] Spenser spoke of it—

"With love juice stained the Mulberie,
The fruit that dewes the poet's braine."

Elegy, 18.

Gerard describes it as "high and full of boughes," and growing in sundry gardens in England, and he grew in his own London garden both the Black and the White Mulberry. Lyte also, before Gerard, describes it and says: "It is called in the fayning of Poetes the wisest of all other trees, for this tree only among all others bringeth forth his leaves after the cold frostes be past;" and the Mulberry Garden, often mentioned by the old dramatists, "occupied the site of the present Buckingham Palace and Gardens, and derived its name from a garden of Mulberry trees planted by King James I. in 1609, in which year 935l. was expended by the king in the planting of Mulberry trees near the Palace of Westminster."[168:1]

As an ornamental tree for any garden, the Mulberry needs no recommendation, being equally handsome in shape, in foliage, and in fruit. It is a much prized ornament in all old gardens, so that it has been well said that an old Mulberry tree on the lawn is a patent of nobility to any garden; and it is most easy of cultivation; it will bear removal when of a considerable size, and so easily can it be propagated from cuttings that a story is told of Mr. Payne Knight that he cut large branches from a Mulberry tree to make standards for his clothes-lines, and that each standard took root, and became a flourishing Mulberry tree.

Though most of us only know of the common White or Black Mulberry, yet, where it is grown for silk culture (as it is now proposed to grow it in England, with a promised profit of from £70 to £100 per acre for the silk, and an additional profit of from £100 to £500 per acre from the grain (eggs)!!), great attention is paid to the different varieties; so that M. de Quatrefuges briefly describes six kinds cultivated in one valley in France, and Royle remarks, "so many varieties have been produced by cultivation that it is difficult to ascertain whether they all belong to one species; they are," as he adds, "nearly as numerous as those of the silkworm" (Darwin).

We have good proof of Shakespeare's admiration of the Mulberry in the celebrated Shakespeare Mulberry growing in his garden at New Place at Stratford-on-Avon. "That Shakespeare planted this tree is as well authenticated as anything of that nature can be, . . . and till this was planted there was no Mulberry tree in the neighbourhood. The tree was celebrated in many a poem, one especially by Dibdin, but about 1752, the then owner of New Place, the Rev. Mr. Gastrell, bought and pulled down the house, and wishing, as it should seem, to be 'damned to everlasting fame,' he had some time before cut down Shakespeare's celebrated Mulberry tree, to save himself the trouble of showing it to those whose admiration of our great poet led them to visit the poetick ground on which it stood."—Malone. The pieces were made into many snuff-boxes[169:1] and other mementoes of the tree.

"The Mulberry tree was hung with blooming wreaths;
The Mulberry tree stood centre of the dance;
The Mulberry tree was hymn'd with dulcet strains;
And from his touchwood trunk the Mulberry tree
Supplied such relics as devotion holds
Still sacred, and preserves with pious care."

Cowper, Task, book vi.

FOOTNOTES:

[167:1] The Dictionarius of John de Garlande is published in Wright's "Vocabularies." His garden was probably in the neighbourhood of Paris, but he was a thorough Englishman, and there is little doubt that his description of a garden was drawn as much from his English as from his French experience.

[167:2] The authority may be in the "Promptorium Parvulorum:" "Mulberry, Morum (selsus)."

[167:3] "Moratum potionis genus, f. ex vino et moris dilutis confectæ."—Glossarium Adelung.

[168:1] Cunningham's "Handbook of London," p. 346, with many quotations from the old dramatists.

[169:1] Some of these snuff-boxes were inscribed with the punning motto "Memento Mori."

MUSHROOMS. (1) Prospero. You demi-puppets, that
By moonshine do the greensour ringlets make,
Whereof the ewe not bites, and you whose pastime
Is to make midnight Mushrooms. Tempest, act v, sc. 1 (36).   (2) Fairy. I do wander everywhere.
Swifter than the moon's sphere;
And I serve the fairy queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green. Midsummer Night's Dream, act ii, sc. 1 (6).   (3) Quickly. And nightly, meadow-fairies, look you sing,
Like to the Garter's compass, in a ring:
The expressure that it bears, green let it be,
More fertile-fresh than all the field to see. Merry Wives, act v, sc. 5 (69).   (4) Ajax. Toadstool, learn me the proclamation. Troilus and Cressida, act ii, sc. 1 (22).

The three first passages, besides the notice of the Mushroom, contain also the notice of the fairy-rings, which are formed by fungi, though probably Shakespeare knew little of this. No. 4 names the Toadstool, and the four passages together contain the whole of Shakespeare's fungology, and it is little to be wondered at that he has not more to say on these curious plants. In his time "Mushrumes or Toadstooles" (they were all classed together) were looked on with very suspicious eyes, though they were so much eaten that we frequently find in the old herbals certain remedies against "a surfeit of Mushrooms." Why they should have been connected with toads has never been explained, but it was always so—

"The grieslie Todestoole growne there mought I see,
And loathed paddocks lording on the same."—Spenser.

They were associated with other loathsome objects besides toads, for "Poisonous Mushrooms groweth where old rusty iron lieth, or rotten clouts, or neere to serpent's dens or rootes of trees that bring forth venomous fruit.[170:1] . . . Few of them are good to be eaten, and most of them do suffocate and strangle the eater. Therefore, I give my advice unto those that love such strange and new-fangled meates to beware of licking honey among thornes, lest the sweetnesse of one do not counteracte the sharpnesse and pricking of the other." This was Gerard's prudent advice on the eating of "Mushrumes and Toadstooles," but nowadays we know better. The fungologists tell us that those who refuse to eat any fungus but the Mushroom (Agaricus campestris) are not only foolish in rejecting most delicate luxuries, but also very wrong in wasting most excellent and nutritious food. Fungologists are great enthusiasts, and it may be well to take their prescription cum grano salis; but we may qualify Gerard's advice by the well-known enthusiastic description of Dr. Badham, who certainly knew much more of fungology than Gerard, and did not recommend to others what he had not personally tried himself. After praising the beauty of an English autumn, even in comparison with Italy, he thus concludes his pleasant and useful book, "The Esculent Funguses of England": "I have myself witnessed whole hundredweights of rich, wholesome diet rotting under trees, woods teeming with food, and not one hand to gather it. . . . I have, indeed, grieved when I reflected on the straitened conditions of the lower orders to see pounds innumerable of extempore beefsteaks growing on our Oaks in the shape of Fistula hepatica; Ag. fusipes, to pickle in clusters under them; Puffballs, which some of our friends have not inaptly compared to sweet-bread for the rich delicacy of their unassisted flavour; Hydna, as good as oysters, which they very much resemble in taste; Agaricus deliciosus, reminding us of tender lamb's kidneys: the beautiful yellow Chantarelle, that kalon kagathon of diet, growing by the bushel, and no basket but our own to pick up a few specimens in our way; the sweet nutty-flavoured Boletus, in vain calling himself edulis when there was none to believe him; the dainty Orcella; the Ag. hetherophyllus, which tastes like the crawfish when grilled; the Ag. ruber and Ag. virescens, to cook in any way, and equally good in all."

As to the fairy rings (Nos. 1, 2, and 3) a great amount of legendary lore was connected with them. Browne notices them—

"A pleasant mead
Where fairies often did their measures tread,
Which in the meadows makes such circles green
As if with garlands it had crowned been."

Britannia's Pastorals.

Cowley said—

"Where once such fairies dance,
No grass does ever grow;"

and in Shakespeare's time the sheep refused to eat the grass on the fairy rings (1); I believe they now feed on it, but I have not been able to ascertain this with certainty. Others, besides the sheep, avoided them. "When the damsels of old gathered may-dew on the grass, which they made use of to improve their complexions, they left undisturbed such of it as they perceived on the fairy rings, apprehensive that the fairies should in revenge destroy their beauty, nor was it reckoned safe to put the foot within the rings, lest they should be liable to fairies' power."—Douce's Illustrations, p. 180.

FOOTNOTES:

[170:1] Herrick calls them "brownest Toadstones."

MUSK ROSES, see Rose. MUSTARD. (1) Doll. They say Poins has a good wit.   Falstaff. He a good wit? hang him, baboon! his wit's as thick as Tewksbury Mustard; there is no more conceit in him than in a mallet. 2nd Henry IV, act ii, sc. 4 (260).   (2) Titania. Pease-blossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustardseed!   *       *       *       *       *   Bottom. Your name, I beseech you, sir?   Mustardseed. Mustardseed.   Bottom. Good Master Mustardseed, I know your patience well; that same cowardly giant-like ox-beef hath devoured many a gentleman of your house: I promise you your kindred hath made my eyes water ere now. I desire your more acquaintance, good Master Mustardseed. Midsummer Night's Dream, act iii, sc. 1 (165, 194).   (3) Bottom. Where's the Mounsieur Mustardseed?   Mustardseed. Ready.   Bottom. Give me your neaf, Mounsieur Mustardseed. Pray you, leave your courtesy, good mounsieur.   Mustardseed. What's your will?   Bottom. Nothing, good mounsieur, but to help Cavalery Cobweb to scratch. Ibid., act iv, sc. 1 (18).   (4) Grumio. What say you to a piece of beef and Mustard?   Katharine. A dish that I do love to feed upon.   Grumio. Ay, but the Mustard is too hot a little.   Katharine. Why then, the beef, and let the Mustard rest.   Grumio. Nay, then, I will not; you shall have the Mustard,
Or else you get no beef of Grumio.   Katharine. Then both, or one, or anything thou wilt.   Grumio. Why then, the Mustard without the beef. Taming of the Shrew, act iv, sc. 3 (23).   (5) Rosalind. Where learned you that oath, fool?   Touchstone. Of a certain knight that swore by his honour they were good pancakes, and swore by his honour the mustard was naught; now I'll stand to it, the
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