Stephenson & Churchill, “Medical Botany”: 1834-1836.

FRAGRANT, various, delicious, fascinating, beautiful — the plants classified as herbs due to their medicinal, ornamental and culinary uses are also great companions. Though they are famous for their medicinal powers, I appreciate herbs mostly for aesthetic and mystical reasons. I watch them grow, take in their scents, eat them and marvel at their beauty in an unscientific and often impractical way. I am not a horticulturalist or certified botanist, but I am an admirer of horticulturalists and certified botanists. I wish I knew what they know. I am not an expert on herbs, but an admirer of experts on herbs. How do they get to be so smart? I refer to them and my own limited experience in the garden for the knowledge I have of these famously interesting plants, which some say are so powerful they can alter your personality, at least for a time.

Rue (ruta graveolens) is one of my favorite herbs. With interesting blueish-gray-green, lacey leaves and miniature, star-like yellow flowers, common rue, also known as herb-of-grace, can grow quickly into a small bush-like plant about three feet tall. Some people probably find it unmanageable, but its wild look and quick growth provide stems that are beautiful in a vase all summer long. Although it has been used in the kitchen, its bitter taste is supposedly not appealing. Truthfully I have never tasted it and some say it should not be eaten, especially by pregnant women or in large quantities. It is a component of the Ethiopian spice mixture berbere and is used sparingly in salads and egg dishes in Mediterranean cooking.

A Modern Herbal refers to the plant’s ‘disagreeable odour and flavour’, but in truth, the bitterness of the leaves is only evident in large doses. In smaller amounts, it imparts a pleasant, musky flavor to cream cheeses and light meats. Rue was once believed to improve the eyesight and creativity, and no less personages than Michelangelo and Leonardo Da Vinci regularly ate the small, trefoil leaves to increase their own. The legend of rue lives on in playing cards, where the symbol for the suit of clubs is said to be modeled on a leaf of rue. There are concerns that rue is poisonous and can cause violent gastric reactions when taken in large doses. (Source)

Rue can cause an allergic reaction in the form of a skin rash. I have never had any problem handling it. I have a plant that is about six years old that I placed in a patch of dirt where nothing else would grow. This rue is undeterred, the stems shoot upward all summer long and it is still green in late fall.

Wikipedia has an informative  entry on literary references to the herb:

The bitter taste of its leaves led to rue being associated with the (etymologically unrelated) verb rue “to regret”. Rue is well known for its symbolic meaning of regret and it has sometimes been called “herb-of-grace” in literary works. It is one of the flowers distributed by the mad Ophelia in William Shakespeare’s Hamlet (IV.5):

“There’s fennel for you, and columbines:
there’s rue for you; and here’s some for me:
we may call it herb-grace o’ Sundays:
O you must wear your rue with a difference…”

It was planted by the gardener in Richard II to mark the spot where the Queen wept upon hearing news of Richard’s capture (III.4.104–105):

“Here did she fall a tear, here in this place
I’ll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace.”

It is also given by the rusticated Perdita to her disguised royal father-in-law on the occasion of a sheep-shearing (Winter’s Tale, IV.4):

“For you there’s rosemary and rue; these keep
Seeming and savour all the winter long.”

It is used by Michael in Milton’s Paradise Lost to give Adam clear sight (11.414):

“Then purg’d with euphrasy and rue
The visual nerve, for he had much to see.”

Rue is used by Gulliver in “Gulliver’s Travels” (by Jonathan Swift) when he returns to England after living among the “Houyhnhnms”. Gulliver can no longer stand the smell of the English Yahoos (people), so he stuffs rue or tobacco in his nose to block out the smell. “I was at last bold enough to walk the street in his (Don Pedro’s) company, but kept my nose well with rue, or sometimes with tobacco”.

Rue is mentioned in the Bible, Luke 11.42: “But woe unto you, Pharisees! For ye tithe mint and rue and all manner of herbs”.

Here is a photo of the herb’s leaves, which have an amazingly soft and delicate surface — for those of us not allergic to them.

— Comments —

Sheila writes:

What a lovely feature and post! I must admit I’m no gardener nor herbalist, and I evinced a now much regretted lack of interest in the numerous rare books about herbs I was privileged to handle and study during my classes at my college’s rare book room. While I still lack the interest or patience (not to mention green thumb!) to grow things, I have long been fascinated by various historical gardens (I was also privileged to take a class on the history of landscape design), particularly medieval herb and knot gardens. Add in, of course, the constant literary allusions to various herbs, and voila! A tailor-made post combining so many of my side interests.

I truly enjoyed how you wove together the medicinal, social, and literary history of rue. Is the final photo you included of your own plant? It truly looks lovely.

Thank you again for an interesting, educational, and calming post.

Laura writes:

Thank you for your appreciation.

That is not a photo of my plant, but it looks exactly like that by May. Right now, it has partly straw-looking stems, as it does in the winter.

By the way, you don’t need a green thumb to grow things. You just need soil and sunshine and the willingness to try it. You also don’t need patience with a plant like rue because it just doesn’t need much of anything. Some people say it has a pleasant scent but I haven’t really noticed it.

M. Jose writes:

Rue is also supposed to have some repellent effect against Japanese beetles.  I planted it and catnip around some plants that were attacked by them.  There still are some Japanese beetles around the plants, but not too bad.  I haven’t studied the issue enough to know whether it has reduced the number or not.

Laura writes:

Interesting.

Joseph A. writes:

I also love to grow herbs, and I have a patch of rue in what I call my “pond prairie.” I have never had any problems with it, though I don’t seem to be affected by plants that tend to cause people problems, with poison ivy excepted. However, exposure to rue may lead to phytophotodermatitis, which is hypersensitivity to ultra-violet light. It is like an anti-sunscreen. So, readers may wish to take that into account when working with and around rue. Do so on cloudy days!

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