66 
PLANT-LORE OF SHAKESPEARE 
As a stately garden plant it should be in every garden. It 
flowers early, and then dies down. But it should be planted 
rather in the background, as the whole plant has an evil smell, 
especially in sunshine. Yet it should have a close attention, 
if only to study and admire the beautiful interior of the flower. 
I know of no other flower that is similarly formed, and it 
cannot be better described than in Gerard’s words : “In the 
bottome of each of the bells there is placed six drops of most 
cleere shining sweet water, in taste like sugar, resembling in 
shew faire Orient pearles, the which drops if you take away, 
there do immediately appeare the like; notwithstanding, if 
they may be suffered to stand still in the floure according to 
his owne nature, they wil never fall away, no, not if you strike 
the plant untill it be broken.” How these drops are formed, 
and what service they perform in the economy of the flower, 
has not been explained, as far as I am aware; but there is 
a pretty German legend which tells how the flower was origin¬ 
ally white and erect, and grew in its full beauty in the garden 
of Gethsemane, where it was often noticed and admired by 
our Lord; but in the night of the agony, as our Lord passed 
through the garden, all the other flowers bowed their head in 
sorrowful adoration, the Crown Imperial alone remaining with 
its head unbowed, but not for long—sorrow and shame took 
the place of pride, she bent her proud 1 head, and blushes of 
shame, and tears of sorrow soon followed, and so she has ever 
continued, with bent head, blushing colour, and ever-flowing 
tears. It is a pretty legend, and may be found at full length 
in “Good Words for the Young,” August, 1870. 
1 The bent head of the Crown Imperial could not well escape notice— 
“The Polyanthus, and with prudent head, 
The Crown Imperial, ever bent on earth, 
Favouring her secret rites, and pearly sweets.”— Forster. 
“That tall flower that wets— 
Like a child, half in tenderness and mirth—• 
Its mother’s face with Pleaven’s collected tears, 
When the low wind, its playmate’s voice, it hears.”— Shelley. 
