CHAP. 9.—AUTHORS WHO HAVE WRITTEN ON FLOWERS. AN ANECDOTE RELATIVE TO QUEEN CLEOPATRA AND CHAPLETS.
Among the Greeks, the physicians Mnesitheus and Callimachus have written separate treatises on the subject of chaplets, making mention of such flowers as are injurious to the head.[1872] For, in fact, the health is here concerned to some extent, as it is at the moments of carousal and gaiety in particular that penetrating odours steal insidiously upon the brain—witness an instance in the wicked cunning displayed upon one occasion by Cleopatra.
At the time when preparations were making for the battle that was eventually fought at Actium, Antonius held the queen in such extreme distrust as to be in dread of her very attentions even, and would not so much as touch his food, unless another person had tasted it first. Upon this, the queen, it is said, wishing to amuse herself with his fears, had the extremities of the flowers in a chaplet dipped in poison, and then placed it upon her head.[1873] After a time, as the hilarity increased apace, she challenged Antonius to swallow the chaplets, mixed up with their drink. Who, under such circumstances as these, could have apprehended treachery? Accordingly, the leaves were stripped from off the chaplet, and thrown into the cup. Just as Antonius was on the very point of drinking, she arrested his arm with her hand.—“Behold, Marcus Antonius,” said she, “the woman against whom you are so careful to take these new precautions of yours in employing your tasters! And would then, if I could exist without you, either means or opportunity of effecting my purpose be wanting to me?” Saying this, she ordered a man to be brought from prison, and made him drink off the potion; he did so, and fell dead[1874] upon the spot.
Besides the two authors above-mentioned, Theophrastus,[1875] among the Greeks, has written on the subject of flowers. Some of our own writers also have given the title of “Anthologica” to their works, but no one, to my knowledge at least, has treated expressly[1876] of flowers. In fact, we ourselves have no intention here of discussing the mode of wearing chaplets, for that would be frivolous[1877] indeed; but shall proceed to state such particulars in relation to flowers as shall appear to us deserving of remark.
CHAP. 10. (4.)—THE ROSE: TWELVE VARIETIES OF IT.
The people of our country were acquainted with but very few garland flowers among the garden plants, and those few hardly any but the violet and the rose. The plant which bears the rose is, properly speaking, more of a thorn than a shrub—indeed, we sometimes find it growing on a bramble[1878] even; the flower having, even then, a pleasant smell, though by no means penetrating. The flower in all roses is originally enclosed in a bud,[1879] with a grained surface within, which gradually swells, and assumes the form of a green pointed cone, similar to our alabaster[1880] unguent boxes in shape. Gradually acquiring a ruddy tint, this bud opens little by little, until at last it comes into full blow, developing the calyx, and embracing the yellow-pointed filaments which stand erect in the centre of it.
The employment of the rose in chaplets is, so to say, the least[1881] use that is made of it. The flower is steeped in oil, a practice which has prevailed from the times of the Trojan war, as Homer[1882] bears witness; in addition to which, it now forms an ingredient in our unguents, as mentioned on a previous occasion.[1883] It is employed also by itself for certain medicinal purposes, and is used in plasters and eye-salves[1884] for its penetrating qualities: it is used, also, to perfume the delicacies of our banquets, and is never attended with any noxious results.
The most esteemed kinds of rose among us are those of Præneste[1885] and Campania.[1886] Some persons have added to these varieties the rose of Miletus,[1887] the flower of which is an extremely brilliant red, and has never more than a dozen petals. The next to it is the rose of Trachyn,[1888] not so red as the last, and then that of Alabanda,[1889] with whitish petals, but not so highly esteemed. The least esteemed of all, however, is the thorn rose,[1890] the petals of which are numerous, but extremely small. The essential points of difference in the rose are the number[1891] of the petals, the comparative number[1892] of thorns on the stem, the colour, and the smell. The number of the petals, which is never less than five, goes on increasing in amount, till we find one variety with as many as a hundred, and thence known as the “centifolia:”[1893] in Italy, it is to be found in Campania, and in Greece, in the vicinity of Philippi, though this last is not the place of its natural[1894] growth. Mount Pangæeus,[1895] in the same vicinity, produces a rose with numerous petals of diminutive size: the people of those parts are in the habit of transplanting it, a method which greatly tends to improve its growth. This kind, however, is not remarkable for its smell, nor yet is the rose which has a very large or very broad petal: indeed, we may state in a few words, that the best proof of the perfume of the flower is the comparative roughness of the calyx.[1896]
Cæpio, who lived in the reign of the Emperor Tiberius, asserts that the centifolia is never employed for chaplets, except at the extreme[1897] points of union as it were, being remarkable neither for its smell[1898] nor its beauty. There is another variety of rose, too, called the “Grecian” rose by our people, and “lychnis”[1899] by the Greeks: it grows nowhere except in humid soils, and has never more than five petals: it does not exceed the violet in size, and is destitute of smell. There is another kind, again, known to us as the “Græcula”[1900] the petals of which are tightly rolled together, and which never open except when pressed in the hand, it having always the appearance, in fact, of being in bud: the petals of it are remarkably large. Another kind, again, springs from a stem like that of the mallow, the leaves being similar to those of the olive—the name given to it is “macetum.”[1901] There is the rose of autumn, too, known to us as the “coroniola,”[1902] which is of a middle size, between the varieties just mentioned. All these kinds, however, are destitute of smell, with the exception of the coroniola, and the one which grows on the bramble:[1903] so extended is the scope for fictitious[1904] productions!
And, indeed, the genuine rose, for the most part, is indebted for its qualities to the nature of the soil. That of Cyrenæ[1905] is the most odoriferous of all, and hence it is that the unguents of that place are so remarkably fine: at Carthage, again, in Spain, there are early[1906] roses throughout all the winter. The temperature, too, of the climate is not without its influence: for in some years we find the roses much less odoriferous than in others; in addition to which, their smell is always more powerful when grown in dry soils[1907] than in humid ones. The rose does not admit of being planted in either a rich or an argillaceous soil, nor yet on irrigated land; being contented with a thin, light earth, and more particularly attached to ground on which old building rubbish has been laid.