{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_10118/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_10118","id":"gutenberg_10118","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10118","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Archaeology & Anthropology","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Nature/Gardening/Animals","Folklore","Plants -- Folklore"],"text":"THE FOLK-LORE OF PLANTS\n\nBY\n\nT.F. THISELTON-DYER\n\n1889\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\nApart from botanical science, there is perhaps no subject of inquiry\nconnected with plants of wider interest than that suggested by the study\nof folk-lore. This field of research has been largely worked of late\nyears, and has obtained considerable popularity in this country, and on\nthe Continent.\n\nMuch has already been written on the folk-lore of plants, a fact which\nhas induced me to give, in the present volume, a brief systematic\nsummary--with a few illustrations in each case--of the many branches\ninto which the subject naturally subdivides itself. It is hoped,\ntherefore, that this little work will serve as a useful handbook for\nthose desirous of gaining some information, in a brief concise form, of\nthe folk-lore which, in one form or another, has clustered round the\nvegetable kingdom.\n\n\nT.F. THISELTON-DYER.\n\nNovember 19, 1888.\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\nI. PLANT LIFE\n\nII. PRIMITIVE AND SAVAGE NOTIONS RESPECTING PLANTS\n\nIII. PLANT WORSHIP\n\nIV. LIGHTNING PLANTS\n\nV. PLANTS IN WITCHCRAFT\n\nVI. PLANTS IN DEMONOLOGY\n\nVII. PLANTS IN FAIRY-LORE\n\nVIII. LOVE-CHARMS\n\nIX. DREAM-PLANTS\n\nX. PLANTS AND THE WEATHER\n\nXI. PLANT PROVERBS\n\nXII. PLANTS AND THEIR CEREMONIAL USE\n\nXIII. PLANT NAMES\n\nXIV. PLANT LANGUAGE\n\nXV. FABULOUS PLANTS\n\nXVI. DOCTRINE OF SIGNATURES\n\nXVII. PLANTS AND THE CALENDAR\n\nXVIII. CHILDREN'S RHYMES AND GAMES\n\nXIX. SACRED PLANTS\n\nXX. PLANT SUPERSTITIONS\n\nXXI. PLANTS IN FOLK-MEDICINE\n\nXXII. PLANTS AND THEIR LEGENDARY HISTORY\n\nXXIII. MYSTIC PLANTS\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nPLANT LIFE.\n\n\nThe fact that plants, in common with man and the lower animals, possess\nthe phenomena of life and death, naturally suggested in primitive times\nthe notion of their having a similar kind of existence. In both cases\nthere is a gradual development which is only reached by certain\nprogressive stages of growth, a circumstance which was not without its\npractical lessons to the early naturalist. This similarity, too, was\nheld all the more striking when it was observed how the life of plants,\nlike that of the higher organisms, was subject to disease, accident, and\nother hostile influences, and so liable at any moment to be cut off by\nan untimely end.[1] On this account a personality was ascribed to the\nproducts of the vegetable kingdom, survivals of which are still of\nfrequent occurrence at the present day. It was partly this conception\nwhich invested trees with that mystic or sacred character whereby they\nwere regarded with a superstitious fear which found expression in sundry\nacts of sacrifice and worship. According to Mr. Tylor,[2] there is\nreason to believe that, \"the doctrine of the spirits of plants lay deep\nin the intellectual history of South-east Asia, but was in great measure\nsuperseded under Buddhist influence. The Buddhist books show that in the\nearly days of their religion it was matter of controversy whether trees\nhad souls, and therefore whether they might lawfully be injured.\nOrthodox Buddhism decided against the tree souls, and consequently\nagainst the scruple to harm them, declaring trees to have no mind nor\nsentient principle, though admitting that certain dewas or spirits do\nreside in the body of trees, and speak from within them.\" Anyhow, the\nnotion of its being wrong to injure or mutilate a tree for fear of\nputting it to unnecessary pain was a widespread belief. Thus, the\nOjibways imagined that trees had souls, and seldom cut them down,\nthinking that if they did so they would hear \"the wailing of the trees\nwhen they suffered in this way.\"[3] In Sumatra[4] certain trees have\nspecial honours paid to them as being the embodiment of the spirits of\nthe woods, and the Fijians[5] believe that \"if an animal or a plant die,\nits soul immediately goes to Bolotoo.\" The Dayaks of Borneo[6] assert\nthat rice has a living principle or spirit, and hold feasts to retain\nits soul lest the crops should decay. And the Karens affirm,[7] too,\nthat plants as well as men and animals have their \"la\" or spirit. The\nIroquois acknowledge the existence of spirits in trees and plants, and\nsay that the spirit of corn, the spirit of beans, and the spirit of\nsquashes are supposed to have the forms of three beautiful maidens.\nAccording to a tradition current among the Miamis, one year when there\nwas an unusual abundance of corn, the spirit of the corn was very angry\nbecause the children had thrown corn-cobs at each other in play,\npretending to have suffered serious bodily injury in consequence of\ntheir sport[8]. Similarly, when the wind blows the long grass or waving\ncorn, the German peasant will say, \"the Grass-wolf,\" or \"the Corn-wolf\"\nis abroad. According to Mr. Ralston, in some places, \"the last sheaf of\nrye is left as a shelter to the _Roggenwolf_ or Rye-wolf during the\nwinter's cold, and in many a summer or autumn festive rite that being is\nrepresented by a rustic, who assumes a wolf-like appearance. The corn\nspirit was, however, often symbolised under a human form.\"\n\nIndeed, under a variety of forms this animistic conception is found\namong the lower races, and in certain cases explains the strong\nprejudice to certain herbs as articles of food. The Society Islanders\nascribed a \"varua\" or surviving soul to plants, and the negroes of Congo\nadored a sacred tree called \"Mirrone,\" one being generally planted near\nthe house, as if it were the tutelar god of the dwelling. It is\ncustomary, also, to place calabashes of palm wine at the feet of these\ntrees, in case they should be thirsty. In modern folk-lore there are\nmany curious survivals of this tree-soul doctrine. In Westphalia,[9] the\npeasantry announce formally to the nearest oak any death that may have\noccurred in the family, and occasionally this formula is employed--\"The\nmaster is dead, the master is dead.\" Even recently, writes Sir John\nLubbock[10], an oak copse at Loch Siant, in the Isle of Skye, was held\nso sacred that no persons would venture to cut the smallest branch from\nit. The Wallachians, \"have a superstition that every flower has a soul,\nand that the water-lily is the sinless and scentless flower of the lake,\nwhich blossoms at the gates of Paradise to judge the rest, and that she\nwill inquire strictly what they have done with their odours.\"[11] It is\nnoteworthy, also, that the Indian belief which describes the holes in\ntrees as doors through which the special spirits of those trees pass,\nreappears in the German superstition that the holes in the oak are the\npathways for elves;[12] and that various diseases may be cured by\ncontact with these holes. Hence some trees are regarded with special\nveneration--particularly the lime and pine[13]--and persons of a\nsuperstitious turn of mind, \"may often be seen carrying sickly children\nto a forest for the purpose of dragging them through such holes.\" This\npractice formerly prevailed in our own country, a well-known\nillustration of which we may quote from White's \"History of Selborne:\"\n\n \"In a farmyard near the middle of the village,\" he writes, \"stands at\n this day a row of pollard ashes, which by the seams and long cicatrices\n down their sides, manifestly show that in former times they had been\n cleft asunder. These trees, when young and flexible, were severed and\n held open by wedges, while ruptured children, stripped naked, were\n pushed through the apertures.\"[14]\n\nIn Somersetshire the superstition still lingers on, and in Cornwall the\nceremony to be of value must be performed before sunrise; but the\npractice does not seem to have been confined to any special locality. It\nshould also be added, as Mr. Conway[15] has pointed out, that in all\nSaxon countries in the Middle Ages a hole formed by two branches of a\ntree growing together was esteemed of highly efficacious value.\n\nOn the other hand, we must not confound the spiritual vitality ascribed\nto trees with the animistic conception of their being inhabited by\ncertain spirits, although, as Mr. Tylor[16] remarks, it is difficult at\ntimes to distinguish between the two notions. Instances of these tree\nspirits lie thickly scattered throughout the folk-lore of most\ncountries, survivals of which remain even amongst cultured races. It is\ninteresting, moreover, to trace the same idea in Greek and Roman\nmythology. Thus Ovid[17] tells a beautiful story of Erisicthon's impious\nattack on the grove of Ceres, and it may be remembered how the Greek\ndryads and hamadryads had their life linked to a tree, and, \"as this\nwithers and dies, they themselves fall away and cease to be; any injury\nto bough or twig is felt as a wound, and a wholesale hewing down puts an\nend to them at once--a cry of anguish escapes them when the cruel axe\ncomes near.\"\n\nIn \"Apollonius Rhodius\" we find one of these hamadryads imploring a\nwoodman to spare a tree to which her existence is attached:\n\n  \"Loud through the air resounds the woodman's stroke,\n  When, lo! a voice breaks from the groaning oak,\n  'Spare, spare my life! a trembling virgin spare!\n  Oh, listen to the Hamadryad's prayer!\n  No longer let that fearful axe resound;\n  Preserve the tree to which my life is bound.\n  See, from the bark my blood in torrents flows;\n  I faint, I sink, I perish from your blows.'\"\n\nAubrey, referring to this old superstition, says:\n\n \"I cannot omit taking notice of the great misfortune in the family of\n the Earl of Winchelsea, who at Eastwell, in Kent, felled down a most\n curious grove of oaks, near his own noble seat, and gave the first blow\n with his own hands. Shortly after his countess died in her bed suddenly,\n and his eldest son, the Lord Maidstone, was killed at sea by a\n cannon bullet.\"\n\nModern European folk-lore still provides us with a curious variety of\nthese spirit-haunted trees, and hence when the alder is hewn, \"it\nbleeds, weeps, and begins to speak.[18]\" An old tree in the Rugaard\nforest must not be felled for an elf dwells within, and another, on the\nHeinzenberg, near Zell, \"uttered a complaint when the woodman cut it\ndown, for in it was our Lady, whose chapel now stands upon the\nspot.\"[19]\n\nAn Austrian M\u00e4rchen tells of a stately fir, in which there sits a fairy\nmaiden waited on by dwarfs, rewarding the innocent and plaguing the\nguilty; and there is the German song of the maiden in the pine, whose\nbark the boy splits with a gold and silver horn. Stories again are\ncirculated in Sweden, among the peasantry, of persons who by cutting a\nbranch from a habitation tree have been struck with death. Such a tree\nwas the \"klinta tall\" in Westmanland, under which a mermaid was said to\ndwell. To this tree might occasionally be seen snow-white cattle driven\nup from the neighbouring lake across the meadows. Another Swedish legend\ntells us how, when a man was on the point of cutting down a juniper tree\nin a wood, a voice was heard from the ground, saying, \"friend, hew me\nnot.\" But he gave another stroke, when to his horror blood gushed from\nthe root[20]. Then there is the Danish tradition[21] relating to the\nlonely thorn, occasionally seen in a field, but which never grows\nlarger. Trees of this kind are always bewitched, and care should be\ntaken not to approach them in the night time, \"as there comes a fiery\nwheel forth from the bush, which, if a person cannot escape from, will\ndestroy him.\"\n\nIn modern Greece certain trees have their \"stichios,\" a being which has\nbeen described as a spectre, a wandering soul, a vague phantom,\nsometimes invisible, at others assuming the most widely varied forms. It\nis further added that when a tree is \"stichimonious\" it is dangerous for\na man, \"to sleep beneath its shade, and the woodcutters employed to cut\nit down will lie upon the ground and hide themselves, motionless, and\nholding their breath, at the moment when it is about to fall, dreading\nlest the stichio at whose life the blow is aimed with each stroke of the\naxe, should avenge itself at the precise moment when it is\ndislodged.\"[22]\n\nTurning to primitive ideas on this subject, Mr. Schoolcraft mentions an\nIndian tradition of a hollow tree, from the recesses of which there\nissued on a calm day a sound like the voice of a spirit. Hence it was\nconsidered to be the residence of some powerful spirit, and was\naccordingly deemed sacred. Among rude tribes trees of this kind are held\nsacred, it being forbidden to cut them. Some of the Siamese in the same\nway offer cakes and rice to the trees before felling them, and the\nTalein of Burmah will pray to the spirit of the tree before they begin\nto cut the tree down[23]. Likewise in the Australian bush demons whistle\nin the branches, and in a variety of other eccentric ways make their\npresence manifest--reminding us of Ariel's imprisonment:[24]\n\n  \"Into a cloven pine; within which rift\n  Imprison'd, thou didst painfully remain,\n  A dozen years; ...\n    ... Where thou didst vent thy groans,\n  As fast as mill-wheels strike.\"\n\nSimilarly Miss Emerson, in her \"Indian Myths\" (1884, p. 134), quotes the\nstory of \"The Two Branches\":\n\n \"One day there was a great noise in a tree under which Manabozho was\n taking a nap. It grew louder, and, at length exasperated, he leaped into\n the tree, caught the two branches whose war was the occasion of the din,\n and pulled them asunder. But with a spring on either hand, the two\n branches caught and pinioned Manabozho between them. Three days the god\n remained imprisoned, during which his outcries and lamentations were the\n subject of derision from every quarter--from the birds of the air, and\n from the animals of the woods and plains. To complete his sad case, the\n wolves ate the breakfast he had left beneath the tree. At length a good\n bear came to his rescue and released him, when the god disclosed his\n divine intuitions, for he returned home, and without delay beat his\n two wives.\"\n\nFurthermore, we are told of the West Indian tribes, how, if any person\ngoing through a wood perceived a motion in the trees which he regarded\nas supernatural, frightened at the prodigy, he would address himself to\nthat tree which shook the most. But such trees, however, did not\ncondescend to converse, but ordered him to go to a boie, or priest, who\nwould order him to sacrifice to their new deity.[25] From the same\nsource we also learn[26] how among savage tribes those plants that\nproduce great terrors, excitement, or a lethargic state, are supposed to\ncontain a supernatural being. Hence in Peru, tobacco is known as the\nsacred herb, and from its invigorating effect superstitious veneration\nis paid to the weed. Many other plants have similar respect shown to\nthem, and are used as talismans. Poisonous plants, again, from their\ndeadly properties, have been held in the same repute;[27] and it is a\nvery common practice among American Indians to hang a small bag\ncontaining poisonous herbs around the neck of a child, \"as a talisman\nagainst diseases or attacks from wild beasts.\" It is commonly supposed\nthat a child so protected is proof against every hurtful influence, from\nthe fact of its being under the protection of the special spirits\nassociated with the plant it wears.\n\nAgain, closely allied to beliefs of this kind is the notion of plants as\nthe habitation of the departing soul, founded on the old doctrine of\ntransmigration. Hence, referring to bygone times, we are told by\nEmpedocles that \"there are two destinies for the souls of highest virtue\n--to pass either into trees or into the bodies of lions.\"[28] Amongst the\nnumerous illustrations of this mythological conception may be noticed\nthe story told by Ovid,[29] who relates how Baucis and Philemon were\nrewarded in this manner for their charity to Zeus, who came a poor\nwanderer to their home. It appears that they not only lived to an\nextreme old age, but at the last were transformed into trees. Ovid,\nalso, tells how the gods listened to the prayer of penitent Myrrha, and\neventually turned her into a tree. Although, as Mr. Keary remarks,\n\"she has lost understanding with her former shape, she still weeps, and\nthe drops which fall from her bark (_i.e._, the myrrh) preserve the\nstory of their mistress, so that she will be forgotten in no age\nto come.\"\n\nThe sisters of Pha\u00ebthon, bewailing his death on the shores of Eridanus,\nwere changed into poplars. We may, too, compare the story of Daphne and\nSyrinx, who, when they could no longer elude the pursuit of Apollo and\nPan, change themselves into a laurel and a reed. In modern times, Tasso\nand Spenser have given us graphic pictures based on this primitive phase\nof belief; and it may be remembered how Dante passed through that\nleafless wood, in the bark of every tree of which was imprisoned a\nsuicide. In German folk-lore[30] the soul is supposed to take the form\nof a flower, as a lily or white rose; and according to a popular belief,\none of these flowers appears on the chairs of those about to die. In the\nsame way, from the grave of one unjustly executed white lilies are said\nto spring as a token of the person's innocence; and from that of a\nmaiden, three lilies which no one save her lover must gather. The sex,\nmoreover, it may be noted, is kept up even in this species of\nmetempsychosis[31]. Thus, in a Servian folk-song, there grows out of the\nyouth's body a green fir, out of the maiden's a red rose, which entwine\ntogether. Amongst further instances quoted by Grimm, we are told how,\n\"a child carries home a bud which the angel had given him in the wood,\nwhen the rose blooms the child is dead. The Lay of Eunzifal makes a\nblackthorn shoot out of the bodies of slain heathens, a white flower by\nthe heads of fallen Christians.\"\n\nIt is to this notion that Shakespeare alludes in \"Hamlet,\" where Laertes\nwishes that violets may spring from the grave of Ophelia (v. I):\n\n      \"Lay her in the earth,\n  And from her fair and unpolluted flesh\n  May violets spring.\"\n\nA passage which is almost identical to one in the \"Satires\" of Persius\n(i. 39):\n\n  \"E tumulo fortunataque favilla,\n  Nascentur violae;\"\n\nAnd an idea, too, which Tennyson seems to have borrowed:\n\n  \"And from his ashes may be made,\n  The violet of his native land.\"\n\nAgain, in the well-known story of \"Tristram and Ysonde,\" a further\nreference occurs: \"From his grave there grew an eglantine which twined\nabout the statue, a marvel for all men to see; and though three times\nthey cut it down, it grew again, and ever wound its arms about the image\nof the fair Ysonde[32].\" In the Scottish ballad of \"Fair Margaret and\nSweet William,\" it is related--\n\n  \"Out of her breast there sprang a rose,\n  And out of his a briar;\n  They grew till they grew unto the church top,\n  And there they tied in a true lovers' knot.\"\n\nThe same idea has prevailed to a large extent among savage races. Thus,\nsome of the North-Western Indians believed that those who died a natural\ndeath would be compelled to dwell among the branches of tall trees. The\nBrazilians have a mythological character called Mani--a child who died\nand was buried in the house of her mother. Soon a plant sprang out of\nthe grave, which grew, flourished, and bore fruit. This plant, says Mr.\nDorman,[33] was the Mandioca, named from _Mani_, and _Oca_, house. By\nthe Mexicans marigolds are known as \"death-flowers,\" from a legend that\nthey sprang up on the ground stained by, \"the life-blood of those who\nfell victims to the love of gold and cruelty of the early Spanish\nsettlers in America.\"\n\nAmong the Virginian tribes, too, red clover was supposed to have sprung\nfrom and to be coloured by the blood of the red men slain in battle,\nwith which may be compared the well-known legend connected with the lily\nof the valley formerly current in St. Leonard's Forest, Sussex. It is\nreported to have sprung from the blood of St. Leonard, who once\nencountered a mighty worm, or \"fire-drake,\" in the forest, engaging with\nit for three successive days. Eventually the saint came off victorious,\nbut not without being seriously wounded; and wherever his blood was shed\nthere sprang up lilies of the valley in profusion. After the battle of\nTowton a certain kind of wild rose is reported to have sprung up in the\nfield where the Yorkists and Lancastrians fell, only there to be found:\n\n  \"There still wild roses growing,\n    Frail tokens of the fray;\n  And the hedgerow green bears witness\n    Of Towton field that day.\"[33]\n\nIn fact, there are numerous legends of this kind; and it may be\nremembered how Defoe, in his \"Tour through Great Britain,\" speaks of a\ncertain camp called Barrow Hill, adding, \"they say this was a Danish\ncamp, and everything hereabout is attributed to the Danes, because of\nthe neighbouring Daventry, which they suppose to be built by them. The\nroad hereabouts too, being overgrown with Dane-weed, they fancy it\nsprung from the blood of Danes slain in battle, and that if cut upon a\ncertain day in the year, it bleeds.\"[34]\n\nSimilarly, the red poppies which followed the ploughing of the field of\nWaterloo after the Duke of Wellington's victory were said to have sprung\nfrom the blood of the troops who fell during the engagement;[35] and the\nfruit of the mulberry, which was originally white, tradition tells us\nbecame empurpled through human blood, a notion which in Germany explains\nthe colour of the heather. Once more, the mandrake, according to a\nsuperstition current in France and Germany, sprang up where the presence\nof a criminal had polluted the ground, and hence the old belief that it\nwas generally found near a gallows. In Iceland it is commonly said that\nwhen innocent persons are put to death the sorb or mountain ash will\nspring up over their graves. Similar traditions cluster round numerous\nother plants, which, apart from being a revival of a very early\nprimitive belief, form one of the prettiest chapters of our legendary\ntales. Although found under a variety of forms, and in some cases sadly\ncorrupted from the dress they originally wore, yet in their main\nfeatures they have not lost their individuality, but still retain their\ndistinctive character.\n\nIn connection with the myths of plant life may be noticed that curious\nspecies of exotic plants, commonly known as \"sensitive plants,\" and\nwhich have generally attracted considerable interest from their\nirritability when touched. Shelley has immortalised this curious freak\nof plant life in his charming poem, wherein he relates how,\n\n  \"The sensitive plant was the earliest,\n  Up-gathered into the bosom of rest;\n  A sweet child weary of its delight,\n  The feeblest and yet the favourite,\n  Cradled within the embrace of night.\"\n\nWho can wonder, on gazing at one of these wonderful plants, that\nprimitive and uncultured tribes should have regarded such mysterious and\ninexplicable movements as indications of a distinct personal life.\nHence, as Darwin in his \"Movements of Plants\" remarks: \"why a touch,\nslight pressure, or any other irritant, such as electricity, heat, or\nthe absorption of animal matter, should modify the turgescence of the\naffected cells in such a manner as to cause movement, we do not know.\nBut a touch acts in this manner so often, and on such widely distinct\nplants, that the tendency seems to be a very general one; and, if\nbeneficial, it might be increased to any extent.\" If, therefore, one of\nthe most eminent of recent scientific botanists confessed his inability\nto explain this strange peculiarity, we may excuse the savage if he\nregard it as another proof of a distinct personality in plant life.\nThus, some years ago, a correspondent of the _Botanical Register_,\ndescribing the toad orchis (_Megaclinium bufo_), amusingly spoke as\nfollows of its eccentric movements: \"Let the reader imagine a green\nsnake to be pressed flat like a dried flower, and then to have a road of\ntoads, or some such speckled reptiles, drawn up along the middle in\nsingle file, their backs set up, their forelegs sprawling right and\nleft, and their mouths wide open, with a large purple tongue wagging\nabout convulsively, and a pretty considerable approach will be gained to\nan idea of this plant, which, if Pythagoras had but known of it, would\nhave rendered all arguments about the transmigration of souls\nsuperfluous.\" But, apart from the vein of jocularity running through\nthese remarks, such striking vegetable phenomena are scientifically as\ngreat a puzzle to the botanist as their movements are to the savage, the\nlatter regarding them as the outward visible expression of a real inward\npersonal existence.\n\nBut, to quote another kind of sympathy between human beings and certain\nplants, the Cingalese have a notion that the cocoa-nut plant withers\naway when beyond the reach of a human voice, and that the vervain and\nborage will only thrive near man's dwellings. Once more, the South Sea\nIslanders affirm that the scent is the spirit of a flower, and that the\ndead may be sustained by their fragrance, they cover their newly-made\ngraves with many a sweet smelling blossom.\n\n\n\nFootnotes:\n\n\n1. See Tylor's \"Primitive Culture,\" 1873, i. 474-5; also Dorman's\n   \"Primitive Superstitions,\" 1881, p. 294.\n\n2. \"Primitive Culture,\" i. 476-7.\n\n3. Jones's \"Ojibways,\" p. 104.\n\n4. Marsden's \"History of Sumatra,\" p. 301.\n\n5. Mariner's \"Tonga Islands,\" ii. 137.\n\n6. St. John, \"Far East,\" i. 187.\n\n7. See Tylor's \"Primitive Culture,\" i. 475.\n\n8. Dorman's \"Primitive Superstitions,\" p. 294; also Schoolcraft's\n   \"Indian Tribes.\"\n\n9. See Thorpe's \"Northern Mythology,\" iii. 61.\n\n10. \"Origin of Civilisation,\" 1870, p. 192. See Leslie Forbes' \"Early\n   Races of Scotland,\" i. 171.\n\n11. Folkard's \"Plant-lore, Legends, and Lyrics,\" p. 463.\n\n12. Conway's \"Mystic Trees and Flowers,\" _Blackwood's Magazine_, 1870,\n   p. 594.\n\n13. Thorpe's \"Northern Mythology,\" i. 212.\n\n14. See Black's \"Folk-Medicine.\"\n\n15. \"Mystic Trees and Flowers,\" p. 594.\n\n16. \"Primitive Culture,\" ii. 215.\n\n17. Metam., viii. 742-839; also Grimm's Teut. Myth., 1883, ii. 953-4\n\n18. Grimm's Teut. Myth., ii. 653.\n\n19. Quoted in Tylor's \"Primitive Culture,\" ii. 221.\n\n20. Thorpe's \"Northern Mythology,\" ii. 72, 73.\n\n21. Ibid., p. 219.\n\n22. \"Superstitions of Modern Greece,\" by M. Le Baron d'Estournelles, in\n   _Nineteenth, Century_, April 1882, pp. 394, 395.\n\n23. See Dorman's \"Primitive Superstitions,\" p. 288.\n\n24. \"The Tempest,\" act i. sc. 2.\n\n25. Dorman's \"Primitive Superstitions,\" p. 288.\n\n26. _Ibid.,_ p. 295.\n\n27. See chapter on Demonology.\n\n28. See Keary's \"Outlines of Primitive Belief,\" 1882, pp. 66-7.\n\n29. Metam., viii. 714:--\n\n  \"Frondere Philemona Baucis,\n   Baucida conspexit senior frondere Philemon.\n   ... 'Valeque,\n   O conjux!' dixere simul, simul abdita texit\n   Ora frutex.\"\n\n30. Thorpe's \"Northern Mythology,\" i. 290, iii. 271.\n\n31. Grimm's \"Teut. Mythology,\" ii. 827.\n\n32. Cox and Jones' \"Popular Romances of the Middle Ages,\" 1880, p. 139\n\n33. Smith's \"Brazil,\" p. 586; \"Primitive Superstitions,\" p. 293.\n\n34. See Folkard's \"Plant-lore, Legends, and Lyrics,\" p. 524.\n\n35. See the _Gardeners' Chronicle_, 1875, p. 315.\n\n36. According to another legend, forget-me-nots sprang up.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nPRIMITIVE AND SAVAGE NOTIONS RESPECTING PLANTS\n\n\nThe descent of the human race from a tree--however whimsical such a\nnotion may seem--was a belief once received as sober fact, and even\nnow-a-days can be traced amongst the traditions of many races.[1] This\nprimitive idea of man's creation probably originated in the myth of\nYggdrasil, the Tree of the Universe,[2] around which so much legendary\nlore has clustered, and for a full explanation of which an immense\namount of learning has been expended, although the student of mythology\nhas never yet been able to arrive at any definite solution on this\ndeeply intricate subject. Without entering into the many theories\nproposed in connection with this mythical tree, it no doubt represented\nthe life-giving forces of nature. It is generally supposed to have been\nan ash tree, but, as Mr. Conway[3] points out, \"there is reason to think\nthat through the confluence of traditions other sacred trees blended\nwith it. Thus, while the ash bears no fruit, the Eddas describe the\nstars as the fruit of Yggdrasil.\"\n\nMr. Thorpe,[4] again, considers it identical with the \"Robur Jovis,\" or\nsacred oak of Geismar, destroyed by Boniface, and the Irminsul of the\nSaxons, the _Columna Universalis_, \"the terrestrial tree of offerings,\nan emblem of the whole world.\" At any rate the tree of the world, and\nthe greatest of all trees, has long been identified in the northern\nmythology as the ash tree,[5] a fact which accounts for the weird\ncharacter assigned to it amongst all the Teutonic and Scandinavian\nnations, frequent illustrations of which will occur in the present\nvolume. Referring to the descent of man from the tree, we may quote the\nEdda, according to which all mankind are descended from the ash and the\nelm. The story runs that as Odhinn and his two brothers were journeying\nover the earth they discovered these two stocks \"void of future,\" and\nbreathed into them the power of life[6]:\n\n  \"Spirit they owned not,\n  Sense they had not,\n  Blood nor vigour,\n  Nor colour fair.\n  Spirit gave Odhinn,\n  Thought gave Hoenir,\n  Blood gave Lodr\n  And colour fair.\"\n\nThis notion of tree-descent appears to have been popularly believed in\nolden days in Italy and Greece, illustrations of which occur in the\nliterature of that period. Thus Virgil writes in the _AEneid_[7]:\n\n  \"These woods were first the seat of sylvan powers,\n  Of nymphs and fauns, and savage men who took\n  Their birth from trunks of trees and stubborn oak.\"\n\nRomulus and Remus had been found under the famous _Ficus Ruminalis_,\nwhich seems to suggest a connection with a tree parentage. It is true,\nas Mr. Keary remarks,[8] that, \"in the legend which we have received it\nis in this instance only a case of finding; but if we could go back to\nan earlier tradition, we should probably see that the relation between\nthe mythical times and the tree had been more intimate.\"\n\nJuvenal, it may be remembered, gives a further allusion to tree descent\nin his sixth satire[9]:\n\n  \"For when the world was new, the race that broke\n  Unfathered, from the soil or opening oak,\n  Lived most unlike the men of later times.\"\n\nIn Greece the oak as well as the ash was accounted a tree whence men had\nsprung; hence in the \"Odyssey,\" the disguised hero is asked to state his\npedigree, since he must necessarily have one; \"for,\" says the\ninterrogator, \"belike you are not come of the oak told of in old times,\nnor of the rock.\"[10] Hesiod tells us how Jove made the third or brazen\nrace out of ash trees, and Hesychius speaks of \"the fruit of the ash the\nrace of men.\" Phoroneus, again, according to the Grecian legend, was\nborn of the ash, and we know, too, how among the Greeks certain families\nkept up the idea of a tree parentage; the Pelopidae having been said to\nbe descended from the plane. Among the Persians the Achaemenidae had the\nsame tradition respecting the origin of their house.[11] From the\nnumerous instances illustrative of tree-descent, it is evident, as Mr.\nKeary points out, that, \"there was once a fuller meaning than metaphor\nin the language which spoke of the roots and branches of a family, or in\nsuch expressions as the pathetic \"Ah, woe, beloved shoot!\" of\nEuripides.\"[12] Furthermore, as he adds, \"Even when the literal notion of\nthe descent from a tree had been lost sight of, the close connection\nbetween the prosperity of the tribe and the life of its fetish was often\nstrictly held. The village tree of the German races was originally a\ntribal tree, with whose existence the life of the village was involved;\nand when we read of Christian saints and confessors, that they made a\npoint of cutting down these half idols, we cannot wonder at the rage\nthey called forth, nor that they often paid the penalty of their\ncourage.\"\n\nSimilarly we can understand the veneration bestowed on the forest tree\nfrom associations of this kind. Consequently, as it has been remarked,[13]\n\"At a time when rude beginnings were all that were of the builder's art,\nthe human mind must have been roused to a higher devotion by the sight\nof lofty trees under an open sky, than it could feel inside the stunted\nstructures reared by unskilled hands. When long afterwards the\narchitecture peculiar to the Teutonic reached its perfection, did it not\nin its boldest creations still aim at reproducing the soaring trees of\nthe forest? Would not the abortion of miserably carved or chiselled\nimages lag far behind the form of the god which the youthful imagination\nof antiquity pictured to itself throned on the bowery summit of a\nsacred tree.\"\n\nIt has been asked whether the idea of the Yggdrasil and the tree-descent\nmay not be connected with the \"tree of life\" of Genesis. Without,\nhowever, entering into a discussion on this complex point, it is worthy\nof note that in several of the primitive mythologies we find distinct\ncounterparts of the biblical account of the tree of life; and it seems\nquite possible that these corrupt forms of the Mosaic history of\ncreation may, in a measure, have suggested the conception of the world\ntree, and the descent of mankind from a tree. On this subject the late\nMr. R.J. King[14] has given us the following interesting remarks in his\npaper on \"Sacred Trees and Flowers\":\n\n \"How far the religious systems of the great nations of antiquity were\n affected by the record of the creation and fall preserved in the opening\n chapters of Genesis, it is not, perhaps, possible to determine. There\n are certain points of resemblance which are at least remarkable, but\n which we may assign, if we please, either to independent tradition, or\n to a natural development of the earliest or primeval period. The trees\n of life and of knowledge are at once suggested by the mysterious sacred\n tree which appears in the most ancient sculptures and paintings of Egypt\n and Assyria, and in those of the remoter East. In the symbolism of these\n nations the sacred tree sometimes figures as a type of the universe, and\n represents the whole system of created things, but more frequently as a\n tree of life, by whose fruit the votaries of the gods (and in some cases\n the gods themselves) are nourished with divine strength, and are\n prepared for the joys of immortality. The most ancient types of this\n mystical tree of life are the date palm, the fig, and the pine or\n cedar.\"\n\nBy way of illustration, it may be noted that the ancient Egyptians had\ntheir legend of the \"Tree of Life\". It is mentioned in their sacred\nbooks that Osiris ordered the names of souls to be written on this tree\nof life, the fruit of which made those who ate it become as gods.[15]\nAmong the most ancient traditions of the Hindoos is that of the tree of\nlife--called Soma in Sanskrit--the juice of which imparted immortality;\nthis marvellous tree being guarded by spirits. Coming down to later\ntimes, Virgil speaks of a sacred tree in a manner which Grimm[16]\nconsiders highly suggestive of the Yggdrasil:\n\n  \"Jove's own tree,\n  High as his topmost boughs to heaven ascend,\n  So low his roots to hell's dominions tend.\"\n\nAs already mentioned, numerous legendary stories have become interwoven\nwith the myth of the Yggdrasil, the following sacred one combining the\nidea of tree-descent. According to a _trouvere_ of the thirteenth\ncentury,[17] \"The tree of life was, a thousand years after the sin of\nthe first man, transplanted from the Garden of Eden to the Garden of\nAbraham, and an angel came from heaven to tell the patriarch that upon\nthis tree should hang the freedom of mankind. But first from the same\ntree of life Jesus should be born, and in the following wise. First was\nto be born a knight, Fanouel, who, through the scent merely of the\nflower of that living tree, should be engendered in the womb of a\nvirgin; and this knight again, without knowing woman, should give birth\nto St. Anne, the mother of the Virgin Mary. Both these wonders fell out\nas they were foretold. A virgin bore Fanouel by smelling the tree; and\nFanouel having once come unawares to that tree of life, and cut a fruit\nfrom it, wiped his knife against his thigh, in which he inflicted a\nslight wound, and thus let in some of the juice. Presently his thigh\nbegan to swell, and eventually St. Anne was born therefrom.\"\n\nBut turning to survivals of this form of animism among uncultured\ntribes, we may quote the Damaras, a South African race, with whom \"a\ntree is supposed to be the universal progenitor, two of which divide the\nhonour.\"[18] According to their creed, \"In the beginning of things there\nwas a tree, and out of this tree came Damaras, bushmen, oxen, and\nzebras. The Damaras lit a fire which frightened away the bushmen and the\noxen, but the zebras remained.\"\n\nHence it is that bushmen and wild beasts live together in all sorts of\ninaccessible places, while the Damaras and oxen possess the land. The\ntree gave birth to everything else that lives. The natives of the\nPhilippines, writes Mr. Marsden in his \"History of Sumatra,\" have a\ncurious tradition of tree-descent, and in accordance with their belief,\n\"The world at first consisted only of sky and water, and between these\ntwo a glede; which, weary with flying about, and finding no place to\nrest, set the water at variance with the sky, which, in order to keep it\nin bounds, and that it should not get uppermost, loaded the water with a\nnumber of islands, in which the glede might settle and leave them at\npeace. Mankind, they said, sprang out of a large cane with two joints,\nthat, floating about in the water, was at length thrown by the waves\nagainst the feet of the glede as it stood on shore, which opened it with\nits bill; the man came out of one joint, the woman out of the other.\nThese were soon after married by the consent of their god, Bathala\nMeycapal, which caused the first trembling of the earth,[19] and from\nthence are descended the different nations of the world.\"\n\nSeveral interesting instances are given by Mr. Dorman, who tells us how\nthe natives about Saginaw had a tradition of a boy who sprang from a\ntree within which was buried one of their tribe. The founders of the\nMiztec monarchy are said to be descended from two majestic trees that\nstood in a gorge of the mountain of Apoala. The Chiapanecas had a\ntradition that they sprang from the roots of a silk cotton tree; while\nthe Zapotecas attributed their origin to trees, their cypresses and\npalms often receiving offerings of incense and other gifts. The\nTamanaquas of South America have a tradition that the human race sprang\nfrom the fruits of the date palm after the Mexican age of water.[20]\n\nAgain, our English nursery fable of the parsley-bed, in which little\nstrangers are discovered, is perhaps, \"A remnant of a fuller tradition,\nlike that of the woodpecker among the Romans, and that of the stork\namong our Continental kinsmen.\"[21] Both these birds having had a mystic\ncelebrity, the former as the fire-singing bird and guardian genius of\nchildren, the latter as the baby-bringer.[22] In Saterland it is said\n\"infants are fetched out of the cabbage,\" and in the Walloon part of\nBelgium they are supposed \"to make their appearance in the parson's\ngarden.\" Once more, a hollow tree overhanging a pool is known in many\nplaces, both in North and South Germany, as the first abode of unborn\ninfants, variations of this primitive belief being found in different\nlocalities. Similar stories are very numerous, and under various forms\nare found in the legendary lore and folk-tales of most countries.\n\n\nFootnotes:\n\n1. See Keary's \"Outlines of Primitive Belief,\" 1882, pp. 62-3.\n\n2. See Grimm's \"Teutonic Mythology,\" 1883, ii. 796-800; _Quarterly\n   Review_, cxiv. 224; Thorpe's \"Northern Mythology,\" i. 154;\n   \"Asgard and the Gods,\" edited by W. S. W. Anson, 1822, pp. 26, 27.\n\n3. _Fraser's Magazine_, 1870, p. 597.\n\n4. \"Northern Mythology,\" i. 154-5.\n\n5. See Max Miller's \"Chips from a German Workshop.\"\n\n6. See Keary's \"Outlines of Primitive Belief,\" p. 64.\n\n7. Book viii. p. 314.\n\n8. \"Outlines of Primitive Belief,\" p. 63.\n\n9. Gifford.\n\n10. Kelly's \"Indo-European Folk-lore,\" p. 143.\n\n11. Keary's \"Outlines of Primitive Belief,\" p. 63; Fiske, \"Myth\n    and Myth Makers,\" 1873, pp. 64-5.\n\n12. \"Primitive Belief,\" p. 65.\n\n13. Grimm's \"Teutonic Mythology,\" i. 69.\n\n14. _Quarterly Review_, 1863, cxiv. 214-15.\n\n15. See Bunsen's \"The Keys of St Peter,\" &c., 1867, p. 414.\n\n16. \"Teutonic Mythology.\"\n\n17. Quoted by Mr. Keary from Leroux de Lincy, \"Le Livre des\n    L\u00e9gendes,\" p. 24.\n\n18. Gallon's \"South Africa,\" p. 188.\n\n19. \"Primitive Superstitions,\" p. 289.\n\n20. Folkard's \"Plant Lore,\" p. 311.\n\n21. \"Indo-European Folk-lore,\" p. 92.\n\n22. Grimm's \"Teutonic Mythology,\" ii. 672-3.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nPLANT-WORSHIP.\n\n\nA form of religion which seems to have been widely-distributed amongst\nmost races of mankind at a certain stage of their mental culture is\nplant-worship. Hence it holds a prominent place in the history of\nprimitive belief, and at the present day prevails largely among rude and\nuncivilised races, survivals of which even linger on in our own country.\nTo trace back the history of plant-worship would necessitate an inquiry\ninto the origin and development of the nature-worshipping phase of\nreligious belief. Such a subject of research would introduce us to those\npre-historic days when human intelligence had succeeded only in\nselecting for worship the grand and imposing objects of sight and sense.\nHence, as Mr. Keary observes,[1] \"The gods of the early world are the\nrock and the mountain, the tree, the river, the sea;\" and Mr.\nFergusson[2] is of opinion that tree-worship, in association with\nserpent-worship, must be reckoned as the primitive faith of mankind. In\nthe previous chapter we have already pointed out how the animistic\ntheory which invested the tree and grove with a conscious personality\naccounts for much of the worship and homage originally ascribed to\nthem--identified, too, as they were later on, with the habitations of\ncertain spirits. Whether viewed, therefore, in the light of past or\nmodern inquiry, we find scattered throughout most countries various\nphases of plant-worship, a striking proof of its universality in days\ngone by.[3]\n\nAccording to Mr. Fergusson, tree-worship has sprung from a perception of\nthe beauty and utility of trees. \"With all their poetry,\" he argues,\n\"and all their usefulness, we can hardly feel astonished that the\nprimitive races of mankind should have considered trees as the choicest\ngifts of the gods to men, and should have believed that their spirits\nstill delighted to dwell among their branches, or spoke oracles through\nthe rustling of their leaves.\" But Mr. McLennan[4] does not consider\nthat this is conclusive, adding that such a view of the subject, \"Does\nnot at all meet the case of the shrubs, creepers, marsh-plants, and\nweeds that have been worshipped.\" He would rather connect it with\nTotemism,[5] urging that the primitive stages of religious evolution go\nto show that, \"The ancient nations came, in pre-historic times, through\nthe Totem stage, having animals, and plants, and the heavenly bodies\nconceived as animals, for gods before the anthropomorphic gods\nappeared;\" While Mr. Herbert Spencer[6] again considers that,\n\"Plant-worship, like the worship of idols and animals, is an aberrant\nspecies of ancestor-worship--a species somewhat more disguised\nexternally, but having the same internal nature.\" Anyhow the subject is\none concerning which the comparative mythologist has, at different\ntimes, drawn opposite theories; but of this there can be no doubt, that\nplant-worship was a primitive faith of mankind, a fact in connection\nwith which we may quote Sir John Lubbock's words,[7] how, \"By man in\nthis stage of progress everything was regarded as having life, and being\nmore or less a deity.\" Indeed, sacred rivers appear in the very earliest\nmythologies which have been recovered, and lingered among the last\nvestiges of heathenism long after the advent of a purer creed. As, too,\nit has been remarked,[8] \"Either as direct objects of worship, or as\nforming the temple under whose solemn shadow other and remoter deities\nmight be adored, there is no part of the world in which trees have not\nbeen regarded with especial reverence.\n\n   'In such green palaces the first kings reigned;\n   Slept in their shade, and angels entertained.\n   With such old counsellors they did advise,\n   And by frequenting sacred shades grew wise.'\n\nEven Paradise itself, says Evelyn, was but a kind of 'nemorous temple or\nsacred grove,' planted by God himself, and given to man _tanquam primo\nsacerdoti_; and he goes on to suggest that the groves which the\npatriarchs are recorded to have planted in different parts of Palestine\nmay have been memorials of that first tree-shaded paradise from which\nAdam was expelled.\"\n\nBriefly noticing the antecedent history of plant-worship, it would seem\nto have lain at the foundation of the old Celtic creed, although few\nrecords on this point have come down to us.[9] At any rate we have\nabundant evidence that this form of belief held a prominent place in the\nreligion of these people, allusions to which are given by many of the\nearly classical writers. Thus the very name of Druidism is a proof of\nthe Celtic addiction to tree-worship, and De Brosses,[10] as a further\nevidence that this was so, would derive the word kirk, now softened into\nchurch, from _quercus_, an oak; that species having been peculiarly\nsacred. Similarly, in reviewing the old Teutonic beliefs, we come across\nthe same references to tree-worship, in many respects displaying little\nor no distinction from that of the Celts. In explanation of this\ncircumstance, Mr. Keary[11] suggests that, \"The nature of the Teutonic\nbeliefs would apply, with only some slight changes, to the creed of the\npredecessors of the Germans in Northern and Western Europe. Undoubtedly,\nin prehistoric days, the Germans and Celts merged so much one into the\nother that their histories cannot well be distinguished.\"\n\nMr. Fergusson in his elaborate researches has traced many indications of\ntree-adoration in Germany, noticing their continuance in the Christian\nperiod, as proved by Grimm, whose opinion is that, \"the festal universal\nreligion of the people had its abode in woods,\" while the Christmas tree\nof present German celebration in all families is \"almost undoubtedly a\nremnant of the tree-worship of their ancestors.\"\n\nAccording to Mr. Fergusson, one of the last and best-known examples of\nthe veneration of groves and trees by the Germans after their conversion\nto Christianity, is that of the \"Stock am Eisen\" in Vienna, \"The sacred\ntree into which every apprentice, down to recent times, before setting\nout on his \"Wanderjahre\", drove a nail for luck. It now stands in the\ncentre of that great capital, the last remaining vestige of the sacred\ngrove, round which the city has grown up, and in sight of the proud\ncathedral, which has superseded and replaced its more venerable shade.\"\n\nEqually undoubted is the evidence of tree-worship in Greece--particular\ntrees having been sacred to many of the gods. Thus we have the oak tree\nor beech of Jupiter, the laurel of Apollo, the vine of Bacchus. The\nolive is the well-known tree of Minerva. The myrtle was sacred to\nAphrodite, and the apple of the Hesperides belonged to Juno.[12] As a\nwriter too in the _Edinburgh Review_[13] remarks, \"The oak grove at\nDodona is sufficiently evident to all classic readers to need no\ndetailed mention of its oracles, or its highly sacred character. The\nsacrifice of Agamemnon in Aulis, as told in the opening of the 'Iliad,'\nconnects the tree and serpent worship together, and the wood of the\nsacred plane tree under which the sacrifice was made was preserved in\nthe temple of Diana as a holy relic so late, according to Pausanias, as\nthe second century of the Christian era.\" The same writer further adds\nthat in Italy traces of tree-worship, if not so distinct and prominent\nas in Greece, are nevertheless existent. Romulus, for instance, is\ndescribed as hanging the arms and weapons of Acron, King of Cenina, upon\nan oak tree held sacred by the people, which became the site of the\nfamous temple of Jupiter.\n\nThen, again, turning to Bible history,[14] the denunciations of\ntree-worship are very frequent and minute, not only in connection with\nthe worship of Baal, but as mentioned in 2 Kings ix.: \"And they (the\nchildren of Israel) set themselves up images and groves in every high\nhill, and under every green tree.\" These acts, it has been remarked,\n\"may be attributable more to heretical idolatrous practices into which\nthe Jews had temporarily fallen in imitation of the heathen around them,\nbut at the same time they furnish ample proof of the existence of tree\nand grove worship by the heathen nations of Syria as one of their most\nsolemn rites.\" But, from the period of King Hezekiah down to the\nChristian era, Mr. Fergusson finds no traces of tree-worship in Judea.\nIn Assyria tree-worship was a common form of idolatrous veneration, as\nproved by Lord Aberdeen's black-stone, and many of the plates in the\nworks of Layard and Botta.[15] Turning to India, tree-worship probably\nhas always belonged to Aryan Hinduism, and as tree-worship did not\nbelong to the aboriginal races of India, and was not adopted from them,\n\"it must have formed part of the pantheistic worship of the Vedic system\nwhich endowed all created things with a spirit and life--a doctrine\nwhich modern Hinduism largely extended[16].\"\n\nThus when food is cooked, an oblation is made by the Hindu to trees,\nwith an appropriate invocation before the food is eaten. The Bo tree is\nextensively worshipped in India, and the Toolsee plant (Basil) is held\nsacred to all gods--no oblation being considered sacred without its\nleaves. Certain of the Chittagong hill tribes worship the bamboo,[17]\nand Sir John Lubbock, quoting from Thompson's \"Travels in the Himalaya,\"\ntells us that in the Simla hills the _Cupressus toridosa_ is regarded as\na sacred tree. Further instances might be enumerated, so general is this\nform of religious belief. In an interesting and valuable paper by a\nBengal civilian--intimately acquainted with the country and\npeople[18]--the writer says:--\"The contrast between the acknowledged\nhatred of trees as a rule by the Bygas,[19] and their deep veneration\nfor certain others in particular, is very curious. I have seen the\nhillsides swept clear of forests for miles with but here and there a\nsolitary tree left standing. These remain now the objects of the deepest\nveneration. So far from being injured they are carefully preserved, and\nreceive offerings of food, clothes, and flowers from the passing Bygas,\nwho firmly believe that tree to be the home of a spirit.\" To give\nanother illustration[20], it appears that in Beerbhoom once a year the\nwhole capital repairs to a shrine in the jungle, and makes simple\nofferings to a ghost who dwells in the Bela tree. The shrine consists of\nthree trees--a Bela tree on the left, in which the ghost resides, and\nwhich is marked at the foot with blood; in the middle is a Kachmula\ntree, and on the right a Saura tree. In spite of the trees being at\nleast seventy years old, the common people claim the greatest antiquity\nfor the shrine, and tradition says that the three trees that now mark\nthe spot neither grow thicker nor increase in height, but remain the\nsame for ever.\n\nA few years ago Dr. George Birwood contributed to the _Athenaeum_ some\ninteresting remarks on Persian flower-worship. Speaking of the Victoria\nGardens at Bombay, he says:--\"A true Persian in flowing robe of blue,\nand on his head his sheep-skin hat--black, glossy, curled, the fleece of\nKar-Kal--would saunter in, and stand and meditate over every flower he\nsaw, and always as if half in vision. And when the vision was fulfilled,\nand the ideal flower he was seeking found, he would spread his mat and\nsit before it until the setting of the sun, and then pray before it, and\nfold up his mat again and go home. And the next night, and night after\nnight, until that particular flower faded away, he would return to it,\nand bring his friends in ever-increasing troops to it, and sit and play\nthe guitar or lute before it, and they would all together pray there,\nand after prayer still sit before it sipping sherbet, and talking the\nmost hilarious and shocking scandal, late into the moonlight; and so\nagain and again every evening until the flower died. Sometimes, by way\nof a grand finale, the whole company would suddenly rise before the\nflower and serenade it, together with an ode from Hafiz, and depart.\"\n\nTree-worship too has been more or less prevalent among the American\nIndians, abundant illustrations of which have been given by travellers\nat different periods. In many cases a striking similarity is noticeable,\nshowing a common origin, a circumstance which is important to the\nstudent of comparative mythology when tracing the distribution of\nreligious beliefs. The Dacotahs worship the medicine-wood, so called\nfrom a belief that it was a genius which protected or punished them\naccording to their merits or demerits.[21] Darwin[22] mentions a tree\nnear Siena de la Ventana to which the Indians paid homage as the altar\nof Walleechu; offerings of cigars, bread, and meat having been suspended\nupon it by threads. The tree was surrounded by bleached bones of horses\nthat had been sacrificed. Mr. Tylor[23] speaks of an ancient cypress\nexisting in Mexico, which he thus describes:--\"All over its branches\nwere fastened votive offerings of the Indians, hundreds of locks of\ncoarse black hair, teeth, bits of coloured cloth, rags, and morsels of\nribbon. The tree was many centuries old, and had probably had some\nmysterious influence ascribed to it, and been decorated with such simple\nofferings long before the discovery of America.\"\n\nOnce more, the Calchaquis of Brazil[24] have been in the habit of\nworshipping certain trees which were frequently decorated by the Indians\nwith feathers; and Charlevoix narrates another interesting instance of\ntree-worship:--\"Formerly the Indians in the neighbourhood of Acadia had\nin their country, near the sea-shore, a tree extremely ancient, of which\nthey relate many wonders, and which was always laden with offerings.\nAfter the sea had laid open its whole root, it then supported itself a\nlong time almost in the air against the violence of the winds and waves,\nwhich confirmed those Indians in the notion that the tree must be the\nabode of some powerful spirit; nor was its fall even capable of\nundeceiving them, so that as long as the smallest part of its branches\nappeared above the water, they paid it the same honours as whilst it\nstood.\"\n\nIn North America, according to Franklin,[25] the Crees used to hang\nstrips of buffalo flesh and pieces of cloth on their sacred tree; and in\nNicaragua maize and beans were worshipped. By the natives of Carolina\nthe tea-plant was formerly held in veneration above all other plants,\nand indeed similar phases of superstition are very numerous. Traces of\ntree-worship occur in Africa, and Sir John Lubbock[26] mentions the\nsacred groves of the Marghi--a dense part of the forest surrounded with\na ditch--where in the most luxuriant and widest spreading tree their\ngod, Zumbri, is worshipped. In his valuable work on Ceylon, Sir J.\nEmerson Tennent gives some interesting details about the consecration of\ntrees to different demons to insure their safety, and of the ceremonies\nperformed by the kattadias or devil-priests. It appears that whenever\nthe assistance of a devil-dancer is required in extreme cases of\nsickness, various formalities are observed after the following fashion.\nAn altar is erected, profusely adorned with garlands and flowers, within\nsight of the dying man, who is ordered to touch and dedicate to the evil\nspirit the wild flowers, rice, and flesh laid upon it.\n\nTraces of plant-worship are still found in Europe. Before sunrise on\nGood Friday the Bohemians are in the habit of going into their gardens,\nand after falling on their knees before a tree, to say, \"I pray, O green\ntree, that God may make thee good,\" a formula which Mr. Ralston[27]\nconsiders has probably been altered under the influence of Christianity\n\"from a direct prayer to the tree to a prayer for it.\" At night they run\nabout the garden exclaiming, \"Bud, O trees, bud! or I will flog you.\" On\nthe following day they shake the trees, and clank their keys, while the\nchurch bells are ringing, under the impression that the more noise they\nmake the more fruit will they get. Traces, too, of tree-worship, adds\nMr. Ralston,[28] may be found in the song which the Russian girls sing\nas they go out into the woods to fetch the birch tree at Whitsuntide,\nand to gather flowers for wreaths and garlands:\n\n  \"Rejoice not, oaks;\n  Rejoice not, green oaks.\n  Not to you go the maidens;\n  Not to you do they bring pies,\n  Cakes, omelettes.\n  So, so, Semik and Troitsa [Trinity]!\n  Rejoice, birch trees, rejoice, green ones!\n  To you go the maidens!\n  To you they bring pies,\n  Cakes, omelettes.\"\n\nThe eatables here mentioned probably refer to the sacrifices offered in\nolden days to the birch--the tree of the spring. With this practice we\nmay compare one long observed in our own country, and known as\n\"wassailing.\" At certain seasons it has long been customary in\nDevonshire for the farmer, on the eve of Twelfth-day, to go into the\norchard after supper with a large milk pail of cider with roasted apples\npressed into it. Out of this each person in the company takes what is\ncalled a clome--i.e., earthenware cup--full of liquor, and standing\nunder the more fruitful apple trees, address them in these words:\n\n  \"Health to thee, good apple tree,\n  Well to bear pocket fulls, hat fulls,\n  Peck fulls, bushel bag fulls.\"\n\nAfter the formula has been repeated, the contents of the cup are thrown\nat the trees.[29] There are numerous allusions to this form of\ntree-worship in the literature of the past; and Tusser, among his many\npieces of advice to the husbandman, has not omitted to remind him\nthat he should,\n\n  \"Wassail the trees, that they may bear\n  You many a plum and many a pear;\n  For more or less fruit they will bring,\n  As you do them wassailing.\"\n\nSurvivals of this kind show how tenaciously old superstitious rites\nstruggle for existence even when they have ceased to be recognised as\nworthy of belief.\n\n\nFootnotes:\n\n1. \"Outlines of Primitive Belief,\" 1882, p. 54.\n\n2. \"Tree and Serpent Worship.\"\n\n3. See Sir John Lubbock's \"Origin of Civilisation,\" pp. 192-8.\n\n4. _Fortnightly Review_, \"The Worship of Animals and Plants,\" 1870,\n   vii. 213.\n\n5. _Ibid._, 1869, vi. 408.\n\n6. \"Principles of Sociology,\" 1885, i. p. 359.\n\n7. \"The Origin of Civilisation and Primitive Condition of Man.\"\n\n8. _Quarterly Review_, cxiv. 212.\n\n9. Keary's \"Primitive Brlief,\" pp. 332-3; _Edinburgh Review_, cxxx.\n   488-9.\n\n10. \"Du Culte des Dieux Fetiches,\" p. 169.\n\n11. \"Primitive Belief,\" pp. 332-3.\n\n12. Fergusson's \"Tree and Serpent Worship,\" p. 16.\n\n13. cxxx. 492; see Tacitus' \"Germania,\" ix.\n\n14. See _Edinburgh Review_, cxxx. 490-1.\n\n15. _Edinburgh Review_, cxxx. 491.\n\n16. Mr. Fergusson's \"Tree and Serpent Worship.\" See _Edinburgh\n    Review_, cxxx. 498.\n\n17. See Lewin's \"Hill Tracts of Chittagong,\" p. 10.\n\n18. _Cornhill Magazine_, November 1872, p. 598.\n\n19. An important tribe in Central India.\n\n20. See Sherring's \"Sacred City of the Hindus,\" 1868, p. 89.\n\n21. Dorman's \"Primitive Superstitions,\" p. 291.\n\n22. See \"Researches in Geology and Natural History,\" p. 79.\n\n23. \"Anahuac,\" 215, 265.\n\n24. Dorman's \"Primitive Superstitions.\" p. 292.\n\n25. \"Journeys to the Polar Sea.\" i. 221.\n\n26. \"The Origin of Civilisation.\"\n\n27. \"Songs of the Russian People.\" p. 219.\n\n28. _Ibid._, p. 238.\n\n29. See my \"British Popular Customs.\" p. 21.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nLIGHTNING PLANTS.\n\n\nAmongst the legends of the ancient world few subjects occupy a more\nprominent place than lightning, associated as it is with those myths of\nthe origin of fire which are of such wide distribution.[1] In examining\nthese survivals of primitive culture we are confronted with some of the\nmost elaborate problems of primeval philosophy, many of which are not\nonly highly complicated, but have given rise to various conjectures.\nThus, although it is easy to understand the reasons which led our\nancestors, in their childlike ignorance, to speak of the lightning as a\nworm, serpent, trident, arrow, or forked wand, yet the contrary is the\ncase when we inquire why it was occasionally symbolised as a flower or\nleaf, or when, as Mr. Fiske[2] remarks, \"we seek to ascertain why\ncertain trees, such as the ash, hazel, white thorn, and mistletoe, were\nsupposed to be in a certain sense embodiments of it.\"\n\nIndeed, however satisfactory our explanations may apparently seem, in\nmany cases they can only be regarded as ingenious theories based on the\nmost probable theories which the science of comparative folk-lore may\nhave suggested. In analysing, too, the evidence for determining the\npossible association of ideas which induced our primitive forefathers to\nform those mythical conceptions that we find embodied in the folk-tales\nof most races, it is necessary to unravel from the relics of the past\nthe one common notion that underlies them. Respecting the origin of\nfire, for instance, the leading idea--as handed down to us in myths of\nthis kind--would make us believe that it was originally stolen. Stories\nwhich point to this conclusion are not limited to any one country, but\nare shared by races widely remote from one another. This circumstance is\nimportant, as helping to explain the relation of particular plants to\nlightning, and accounts for the superstitious reverence so frequently\npaid to them by most Aryan tribes. Hence, the way by which the Veda\nargues the existence of the palasa--a mystic tree with the Hindus--is\nfounded on the following tradition:--The demons had stolen the heavenly\nsoma, or drink of the gods, and cellared it in some mythical rock or\ncloud. When the thirsty deities were pining for their much-prized\nliquor, the falcon undertook to restore it to them, although he\nsucceeded at the cost of a claw and a plume, of which he was deprived by\nthe graze of an arrow shot by one of the demons. Both fell to the earth\nand took root; the claw becoming a species of thorn, which Dr. Kuhn\nidentifies as the \"_Mimosa catechu_,\" and the feather a \"palasa tree,\"\nwhich has a red sap and scarlet blossoms. With such a divine origin--for\nthe falcon was nothing less than a lightning god[3]--the trees naturally\nwere incorporations,[4] \"not only of the heavenly fire, but also of the\nsoma, with which the claw and feather were impregnated.\"\n\nIt is not surprising, therefore, that extraordinary virtues were\nascribed to these lightning plants, qualities which, in no small degree,\ndistinguish their representatives at the present day. Thus we are told\nhow in India the mimosa is known as the imperial tree on account of its\nremarkable properties, being credited as an efficacious charm against\nall sorts of malignant influences, such as the evil eye. Not unlike in\ncolour to the blossom of the Indian palasa are the red berries of the\nrowan or mountain-ash (_Pyrus aucuparia_), a tree which has acquired\nEuropean renown from the Aryan tradition of its being an embodiment of\nthe lightning from which it was sprung. It has acquired, therefore, a\nmystic character, evidences of which are numerously represented\nthroughout Europe, where its leaves are reverenced as being the most\npotent talisman against the darker powers. At the present day we still\nfind the Highland milkmaid carrying with her a rowan-cross against\nunforeseen danger, just as in many a German village twigs are put over\nstables to keep out witches. Illustrations of this kind support its\nwidespread reputation for supernatural virtues, besides showing how\nclosely allied is much of the folk-lore of our own with that of\ncontinental countries. At the same time, we feel inclined to agree with\nMr. Farrer that the red berries of the mountain-ash probably singled it\nout from among trees for worship long before our ancestors had arrived\nat any idea of abstract divinities. The beauty of its berries, added to\ntheir brilliant red colour, would naturally excite feelings of\nadmiration and awe, and hence it would in process of time become\ninvested with a sacred significance. It must be remembered, too, that\nall over the world there is a regard for things red, this colour having\nbeen once held sacred to Thor, and Grimm suggests that it was on this\naccount the robin acquired its sacred character. Similarly, the Highland\nwomen tie a piece of red worsted thread round their cows' tails previous\nto turning them out to grass for the first time in spring, for, in\naccordance with an old adage:\n\n  \"Rowan-ash, and red thread,\n  Keep the devils from their speed.\"\n\nIn the same way the mothers in Esthonia put some red thread in their\nbabies' cradles as a preservative against danger, and in China something\nred is tied round children's wrists as a safeguard against evil spirits.\nBy the aid of comparative folk-lore it is interesting, as in this case,\nto trace the same notion in different countries, although it is by no\nmeans possible to account for such undesigned resemblance. The common\nash (_Fraxinus excelsior_), too, is a lightning plant, and, according to\nan old couplet:\n\n  \"Avoid an ash,\n  It counts the flash.\"\n\nAnother tree held sacred to Thor was the hazel (_Corylus avellana_),\nwhich, like the mountain-ash, was considered an actual embodiment of the\nlightning. Indeed, \"so deep was the faith of the people in the relation\nof this tree to the thunder god,\" says Mr. Conway,[5] \"that the Catholics\nadopted and sanctioned it by a legend one may hear in Bavaria, that on\ntheir flight into Egypt the Holy Family took refuge under it from a\nstorm.\"\n\nIts supposed immunity from all damage by lightning has long caused\nspecial reverence to be attached to it, and given rise to sundry\nsuperstitious usages. Thus, in Germany, a twig is cut by the\nfarm-labourer, in spring, and on the first thunderstorm a cross is made\nwith it over every heap of grain, whereby, it is supposed, the corn will\nremain good for many years. Occasionally, too, one may see hazel twigs\nplaced in the window frames during a heavy shower, and the Tyroleans\nregard it as an excellent lightning conductor. As a promoter of\nfruitfulness it has long been held in high repute--a character which it\nprobably derived from its mythic associations--and hence the important\npart it plays in love divinations. According to a Bohemian belief, the\npresence of a large number of hazel-nuts betokens the birth of many\nillegitimate children; and in the Black Forest it is customary for the\nleader of a marriage procession to carry a hazel wand. For the same\nreason, in many parts of Germany, a few nuts are mingled with the seed\ncorn to insure its being prolific. But leaving the hazel with its host\nof superstitions, we may notice the white-thorn, which according to\nAryan tradition was also originally sprung from the lightning. Hence it\nhas acquired a wide reverence, and been invested with supernatural\nproperties. Like, too, the hazel, it was associated with marriage rites.\nThus the Grecian bride was and is still decked with its blossoms,\nwhereas its wood formed the torch which lighted the Roman bridal couple\nto their nuptial chamber on the wedding day. It is evident, therefore,\nthat the white-thorn was considered a sacred tree long before Christian\ntradition identified it as forming the Crown of Thorns; a medieval\nbelief which further enhanced the sanctity attached to it. It is not\nsurprising, therefore, that the Irish consider it unlucky to cut down\nthis holy tree, especially as it is said to be under the protection of\nthe fairies, who resent any injury done to it. A legend current in\ncounty Donegal, for instance, tells us how a fairy had tried to steal\none Joe M'Donough's baby, but the poor mother argued that she had never\naffronted the fairy tribe to her knowledge. The only cause she could\nassign was that Joe, \"had helped Mr. Todd's gardener to cut down the old\nhawthorn tree on the lawn; and there's them that says that's a very bad\nthing to do;\" adding how she \"fleeched him not to touch it, but the\nmaster he offered him six shillings if he'd help in the job, for the\nother men refused.\" The same belief prevails in Brittany, where it is\nalso \"held unsafe to gather even a leaf from certain old and solitary\nthorns, which grow in sheltered hollows of the moorland, and are the\nfairies' trysting-places.\"[6]\n\nThen there is the mistletoe, which, like the hazel and the white-thorn,\nwas also supposed to be the embodiment of lightning; and in consequence\nof its mythical character held an exalted place in the botanical world.\nAs a lightning-plant, we seem to have the key to its symbolical nature,\nin the circumstance that its branch is forked. On the same principle, it\nis worthy of note, as Mr. Fiske remarks[7] that, \"the Hindu commentators\nof the Veda certainly lay great stress on the fact that the palasa is\ntrident-leaved.\" We have already pointed out, too, how the red colour of\na flower, as in the case of the berries of the mountain-ash, was\napparently sufficient to determine the association of ideas. The Swiss\nname for mistletoe, _donnerbesen_, \"thunder besom,\" illustrates its\ndivine origin, on account of which it was supposed to protect the\nhomestead from fire, and hence in Sweden it has long been suspended in\nfarm-houses, like the mountain-ash in Scotland. But its virtues are by\nno means limited, for like all lightning-plants its potency is displayed\nin a variety of ways, its healing properties having from a remote period\nbeen in the highest repute. For purposes also of sorcery it has been\nreckoned of considerable importance, and as a preventive of nightmare\nand other night scares it is still in favour on the Continent. One\nreason which no doubt has obtained for it a marked degree of honour is\nits parasitical manner of growth, which was in primitive times ascribed\nto the intervention of the gods. According to one of its traditionary\norigins, its seed was said to be deposited on certain trees by birds,\nthe messengers of the gods, if not the gods themselves in disguise, by\nwhich this plant established itself in the branch of a tree. The mode of\nprocedure, say the old botanists, was through the \"mistletoe thrush.\"\nThis bird, it was asserted, by feeding on the berries, surrounded its\nbeak with the viscid mucus they contain, to rid itself of which it\nrubbed its beak, in the course of flying, against the branches of trees,\nand thereby inserted the seed which gave birth to the new plant. When\nthe mistletoe was found growing on the oak, its presence was attributed\nspecially to the gods, and as such was treated with the deepest\nreverence. It was not, too, by accident that the oak was selected, as\nthis tree was honoured by Aryan tradition with being of lightning\norigin. Hence when the mistletoe was found on its branches, the\noccurrence was considered as deeply significant, and all the more so as\nits existence in such a locality was held to be very rare[8]. Speaking\nof the oak, it may be noted, that as sacred to Thor, it was under his\nimmediate protection, and hence it was considered an act of sacrilege to\nmutilate it in ever so small a degree. Indeed, \"it was a law of the\nOstrogoths that anybody might hew down what trees he pleased in the\ncommon wood, except oaks and hazels; those trees had peace,_ i.e._, they\nwere not to be felled[9].\" That profanity of this kind was not treated\nwith immunity was formerly fully believed, an illustration of which is\ngiven us by Aubrey,[10] who says that, \"to cut oakwood is unfortunate.\nThere was at Norwood one oak that had mistletoe, a timber tree, which\nwas felled about 1657. Some persons cut this mistletoe for some\napothecaries in London, and sold them a quantity for ten shillings each\ntime, and left only one branch remaining for more to sprout out. One\nfell lame shortly after; soon after each of the others lost an eye, and\nhe that felled the tree, though warned of these misfortunes of the other\nmen, would, notwithstanding, adventure to do it, and shortly afterwards\nbroke his leg; as if the Hamadryads had resolved to take an ample\nrevenge for the injury done to their venerable and sacred oak.\" We can\nunderstand, then, how the custom originated of planting the oak on the\nboundaries of lands, a survival of which still remains in the so-called\ngospel oaks of many of our English parishes. With Thor's tree thus\nstanding our forefathers felt a sense of security which materially added\nto the peace and comfort of their daily life.\n\nBut its sacred attributes were not limited to this country, many a\nlegend on the Continent testifying to the safety afforded by its\nsheltering branches. Indeed, so great are its virtues that, according to\na Westphalian tradition, the Wandering Jew can only rest where he shall\nhappen to find two oaks growing in the form of a cross. A further proof\nof its exalted character may be gathered from the fact that around its\nroots Scandinavian mythology has gathered fairyland, and hence in\nGermany the holes in its trunk are the pathways for elves. But the\nconnection between lightning and plants extends over a wide area, and\nGermany is rich in legends relative to this species of folk-lore. Thus\nthere is the magic springwort, around which have clustered so many\ncurious lightning myths and talismanic properties. By reason of its\ncelestial origin this much-coveted plant, when buried in the ground at\nthe summit of a mountain, has the reputation of drawing down the\nlightning and dividing the storm. It is difficult, however, to procure,\nespecially as there is no certainty as to the exact species of plants to\nwhich it belongs, although Grimm identifies it with the _Euphorbia\nlathyris_. At any rate, it is chiefly procurable by the woodpecker--a\nlightning-bearer; and to secure this much-prized treasure, its nest must\nbe stopped up, access to which it will quickly gain by touching it with\nthe springwort. But if one have in readiness a pan of water, a fire, or\na red cloth, the bird will let the plant fall, which otherwise it would\nbe a difficult work to obtain, \"the notion, no doubt, being that the\nbird must return the mystic plant to the element from which it springs,\nthat being either the water of the clouds or the lightning fire enclosed\ntherein.\"[11]\n\nProfessor Gubernatis, referring to the symbolical nature of this\ntradition, remarks that, \"this herb may be the moon itself, which opens\nthe hiding-place of the night, or the thunderbolt, which opens the\nhiding-places of the cloud.\" According to the Swiss version of the story\nit is the hoopoe that brings the spring-wort, a bird also endowed with\nmystic virtues,[12] while in Iceland, Normandy, and ancient Greece it is\nan eagle, a swallow, or an ostrich. Analogous to the talismanic\nproperties of the springwort are those of the famous luck or key-flower\nof German folk-lore, by the discovery of which the fortunate possessor\neffects an entrance into otherwise inaccessible fairy haunts, where\nunlimited treasures are offered for his acceptance. There then, again,\nthe luck-flower is no doubt intended to denote the lightning, which\nreveals strange treasures, giving water to the parched and thirsty land,\nand, as Mr. Fiske remarks, \"making plain what is doing under cover of\ndarkness.\"[13] The lightning-flash, too, which now and then, as a lesson\nof warning, instantly strikes dead those who either rashly or\npresumptuously essay to enter its awe-inspiring portals, is exemplified\nin another version of the same legend. A shepherd, while leading his\nflock over the Ilsentein, pauses to rest, but immediately the mountain\nopens by reason of the springwort or luck-flower in the staff on which\nhe leans. Within the cavern a white lady appears, who invites him to\naccept as much of her wealth as he choses. Thereupon he fills his\npockets, and hastening to quit her mysterious domains, he heeds not her\nenigmatical warning, \"Forget not the best,\" the result being that as he\npasses through the door he is severed in twain amidst the crashing of\nthunder. Stories of this kind, however, are the exception, legendary\nlore generally regarding the lightning as a benefactor rather than a\ndestroyer. \"The lightning-flash,\" to quote Mr. Baring-Gould's words,\n\"reaches the barren, dead, and thirsty land; forth gush the waters of\nheaven, and the parched vegetation bursts once more into the vigour of\nlife restored after suspended animation.\"\n\nThat this is the case we have ample proof in the myths relating to\nplants, in many of which the life-giving properties of the lightning are\nclearly depicted. Hence, also, the extraordinary healing properties\nwhich are ascribed to the various lightning plants. Ash rods, for\ninstance, are still used in many parts of England for the cure of\ndiseased sheep, cows, and horses, and in Cornwall, as a remedy for\nhernia, children are passed through holes in ash trees. The mistletoe\nhas the reputation of being an antidote for poisons and a specific\nagainst epilepsy. Culpepper speaks of it as a sure panacea for apoplexy,\npalsy, and falling sickness, a belief current in Sweden, where finger\nrings are made of its wood. An old-fashioned charm for the bite of an\nadder was to place a cross formed of hazel-wood on the wound, and the\nburning of a thorn-bush has long been considered a sure preventive of\nmildew in wheat. Without multiplying further illustrations, there can be\nno doubt that the therapeutic virtues of these so-called lightning\nplants may be traced to, in very many cases, their mythical origin. It\nis not surprising too that plants of this stamp should have been\nextensively used as charms against the influences of occult powers,\ntheir symbolical nature investing them with a potency such as was\npossessed by no ordinary plant.\n\n\nFootnotes:\n\n1. See an article on \"Myths of the Fire Stealer,\" _Saturday Review_,\n   June 2, 1883, p. 689; Tylor's \"Primitive Culture.\"\n\n2. \"Myths and Myth Makers,\" p. 55.\n\n3. See Keary's \"Outlines of Primitive Belief,\" 1882, p. 98.\n\n4. \"Indo-European Tradition and Folk-lore,\" p. 159.\n\n5. \"Mystic Trees and Shrubs,\" _Fraser's Magazine_, Nov. 1870, p. 599.\n\n6. \"Sacred Trees and Flowers,\" _Quarterly Review_, July 1863, pp. 231, 232.\n\n7. \"Myths and Myth Makers,\" p. 55.\n\n8. See \"Flower Lore,\" pp. 38, 39.\n\n9. Kelly's \"Indo-European Folk-lore,\" p. 179.\n\n10. \"Natural History and Antiquities of Surrey,\" ii. 34.\n\n11. Kelly's \"Indo-European Folk-lore,\" p. 176; Grimm's \"Teutonic\n    Mythology,\" 1884, chap, xxxii.; Gubernatis' \"Zoological Mythology,\"\n    ii. 266-7. See Albertus Magnus, \"De Mirab. Mundi,\" 1601, p. 225.\n\n12. Gubernatis' \"Zoological Mythology,\" ii. 230.\n\n13. \"Myths and Mythmakers,\" p. 58. See Baring-Gould's \"Curious\n    Myths of the Middle Ages,\" 1877, pp. 386-416.\n\n14. Folkard's \"Plant-lore Legends and Lyrics,\" p. 460.\n\n15. See Kelly's \"Indo-European Folk-lore,\" pp. 47-8.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nPLANTS IN WITCHCRAFT.\n\n\nThe vast proportions which the great witchcraft movement assumed in\nbygone years explains the magic properties which we find ascribed to so\nmany plants in most countries. In the nefarious trade carried on by the\nrepresentatives of this cruel system of sorcery certain plants were\nlargely employed for working marvels, hence the mystic character which\nthey have ever since retained. It was necessary, however, that these\nshould be plucked at certain phases of the moon or seasons of the year,\nor from some spot where the sun was supposed not to have shone on it.[1]\nHence Shakespeare makes one of his witches speak of \"root of hemlock\ndigg'd i' the dark,\" and of \"slips of yew sliver'd in the moon's\neclipse,\" a practice which was long kept up. The plants, too, which\nformed the witches' pharmacopoeia, were generally selected either from\ntheir legendary associations or by reason of their poisonous and\nsoporific qualities. Thus, two of those most frequently used as\ningredients in the mystic cauldron were the vervain and the rue, these\nplants having been specially credited with supernatural virtues. The\nformer probably derived its notoriety from the fact of its being sacred\nto Thor, an honour which marked it out, like other lightning plants, as\npeculiarly adapted for occult uses. It was, moreover, among the sacred\nplants of the Druids, and was only gathered by them, \"when the dog-star\narose, from unsunned spots.\" At the same time, it is noteworthy that\nmany of the plants which were in repute with witches for working their\nmarvels were reckoned as counter-charms, a fact which is not surprising,\nas materials used by wizards and others for magical purposes have\ngenerally been regarded as equally efficacious if employed against their\ncharms and spells.[2] Although vervain, therefore, as the \"enchanters'\nplant,\" was gathered by witches to do mischief in their incantations,\nyet, as Aubrey says, it \"hinders witches from their will,\" a\ncircumstance to which Drayton further refers when he speaks of the\nvervain as \"'gainst witchcraft much avayling.\" Rue, likewise, which\nentered so largely into magic rites, was once much in request as an\nantidote against such practices; and nowadays, when worn on the person\nin conjunction with agrimony, maiden-hair, broom-straw, and ground ivy,\nit is said in the Tyrol to confer fine vision, and to point out the\npresence of witches.\n\nIt is still an undecided question as to why rue should out of all other\nplants have gained its widespread reputation with witches, but M. Maury\nsupposes that it was on account of its being a narcotic and causing\nhallucinations. At any rate, it seems to have acquired at an early\nperiod in this country a superstitious reverence, for, as Mr. Conway\nsays,[3] \"We find the missionaries sprinkling holy water from brushes\nmade of it, whence it was called 'herb of grace'.\"\n\nRespecting the rendezvous of witches, it may be noted that they very\nfrequently resorted to hills and mountains, their meetings taking place\n\"on the mead, on the oak sward, under the lime, under the oak, at the\npear tree.\" Thus the fairy rings which are often to be met with on the\nSussex downs are known as hag-tracks,[4] from the belief that \"they are\ncaused by hags and witches, who dance there at midnight.\"[5] Their love\nfor sequestered and romantic localities is widely illustrated on the\nContinent, instances of which have been collected together by Grimm, who\nremarks how \"the fame of particular witch mountains extends over wide\nkingdoms.\" According to a tradition current in Friesland,[6] no woman is\nto be found at home on a Friday, because on that day they hold their\nmeetings and have dances on a barren heath. Occasionally, too, they show\na strong predilection for certain trees, to approach which as night-time\ndraws near is considered highly dangerous. The Judas tree (_Cercis\nsiliquastrum_) was one of their favourite retreats, perhaps on account\nof its traditionary association with the apostle. The Neapolitan witches\nheld their tryst under a walnut tree near Benevento,[7] and at Bologna\nthe peasantry tell how these evil workers hold a midnight meeting\nbeneath the walnut trees on St. John's Eve. The elder tree is another\nhaunt under whose branches witches are fond of lurking, and on this\naccount caution must be taken not to tamper with it after dark.[8]\nAgain, in the Netherlands, experienced shepherds are careful not to let\ntheir flocks feed after sunset, for there are wicked elves that prepare\npoison in certain plants--nightwort being one of these. Nor does any man\ndare to sleep in a meadow or pasture after sunset, for, as the shepherds\nsay, he would have everything to fear. A Tyrolese legend[9] relates how\na boy who had climbed a tree, \"overlooked the ghastly doings of certain\nwitches beneath its boughs. They tore in pieces the corpse of a woman,\nand threw the portions in the air. The boy caught one, and kept it by\nhim; but the witches, on counting the pieces, found that one was\nmissing, and so replaced it by a scrap of alderwood, when instantly the\ndead came to life again.\"\n\nSimilarly, also, they had their favourite flowers, one having been the\nfoxglove, nicknamed \"witches' bells,\" from their decorating their\nfingers with its blossoms; while in some localities the hare-bell is\ndesignated the \"witches' thimble.\" On the other hand, flowers of a\nyellow or greenish hue were distasteful to them.[10]\n\nIn the witchcraft movement it would seem that certain plants were in\nrequisition for particular purposes, these workers of darkness having\nutilised the properties of herbs to special ends. A plant was not\nindiscriminately selected, but on account of possessing some virtue as\nto render it suitable for any design that the witches might have in\nview. Considering, too, how multitudinous and varied were their actions,\nthey had constant need of applying to the vegetable world for materials\nwith which to carry out their plans. But foremost amongst their\nrequirements was the power of locomotion wherewith to enable them with\nsupernatural rapidity to travel from one locality to another.\nAccordingly, one of their most favourite vehicles was a besom or broom,\nan implement which, it has been suggested, from its being a type of the\nwinds, is an appropriate utensil \"in the hands of the witches, who are\nwindmakers and workers in that element.[11]\" According to the _Asiatic\nRegister_ for 1801, the Eastern as well as the European witches\n\"practise their spells by dancing at midnight, and the principal\ninstrument they use on such occasions is a broom.\" Hence, in Hamburg,\nsailors, after long toiling against a contrary wind, on meeting another\nship sailing in an opposite direction, throw an old broom before the\nvessel, believing thereby to reverse the wind.[12] As, too, in the case\nof vervain and rue, the besom, although dearly loved by witches, is\nstill extensively used as a counter-charm against their machinations--it\nbeing a well-known belief both in England and Germany that no individual\nof this stamp can step over a besom laid inside the threshold. Hence,\nalso, in Westphalia, at Shrovetide, white besoms with white handles are\ntied to the cows' horns; and, in the rites connected with the Midsummer\nfires kept up in different parts of the country, the besom holds a\nprominent place. In Bohemia, for instance, the young men collect for\nsome weeks beforehand as many worn-out brooms as they can lay their\nhands on. These, after dipping in tar, they light--running with them\nfrom one bonfire to another--and when burnt out they are placed in the\nfields as charms against blight.[13] The large ragwort--known in Ireland\nas the \"fairies' horse\"--has long been sought for by witches when taking\ntheir midnight journeys. Burns, in his \"Address to the Deil,\" makes his\nwitches \"skim the muirs and dizzy crags\" on \"rag-bred nags\" with \"wicked\nspeed.\" The same legendary belief prevails in Cornwall, in connection\nwith the Castle Peak, a high rock to the south of the Logan stone. Here,\nwrites Mr. Hunt,[14] \"many a man, and woman too, now quietly sleeping in\nthe churchyard of St. Levan, would, had they the power, attest to have\nseen the witches flying into the Castle Peak on moonlight nights,\nmounted on the stems of the ragwort.\" Amongst other plants used for a\nsimilar purpose were the bulrush and reed, in connection with-which may\nbe quoted the Irish tale of the rushes and cornstalks that \"turn into\nhorses the moment you bestride them[15].\" In Germany[16] witches were\nsaid to use hay for transporting themselves through the air.\n\nWhen engaged in their various occupations they often considered it\nexpedient to escape detection by assuming invisibility, and for this\nobject sought the assistance of certain plants, such as the\nfern-seed[17]. In Sweden, hazel-nuts were supposed to have the power of\nmaking invisible, and it may be remembered how in one of Andersen's\nstories the elfin princess has the faculty of vanishing at will, by\nputting a wand in her mouth.[18] But these were not the only plants\nsupposed to confer invisibility, for German folk-lore tells us how the\nfar-famed luck-flower was endowed with the same wonderful property; and\nby the ancients the heliotrope was credited with a similar virtue, but\nwhich Boccaccio, in his humorous tale of Calandrino in the \"Decameron,\"\napplies to the so-called stone. \"Heliotrope is a stone of such\nextraordinary virtue that the bearer of it is effectually concealed from\nthe sight of all present.\"\n\nDante in his \"Inferno,\" xxiv. 92, further alludes to it:\n\n  \"Amid this dread exuberance of woe\n  Ran naked spirits winged with horrid fear,\n  Nor hope had they of crevice where to hide,\n  Or heliotrope to charm them out of view.\"\n\nIn the same way the agate was said to render a person invisible, and to\nturn the swords of foes against themselves.[19] The Swiss peasants\naffirm that the Ascension Day wreaths of the amaranth make the wearer\ninvisible, and in the Tyrol the mistletoe is credited with\nthis property.\n\nBut some plants, as we have already pointed out, were credited with the\nmagic property of revealing the presence of witches, and of exposing\nthem engaged in the pursuit of plying their nefarious calling. In this\nrespect the St. John's wort was in great request, and hence it was\nextensively worn as an amulet, especially in Germany on St. John's Eve,\na time when not only witches by common report peopled the air, but evil\nspirits wandered about on no friendly errand. Thus the Italian name of\n\"devil-chaser,\" from the circumstance of its scaring away the workers of\ndarkness, by bringing their hidden deeds to light. This, moreover,\naccounts for the custom so prevalent in most European countries of\ndecorating doorways and windows with its blossoms on St. John's Eve. In\nour own country Stowe[20] speaks of it as its having been placed over\nthe doors together with green birch, fennel, orpine, and white lilies,\nwhereas in France the peasantry still reverence it as dispersing every\nkind of unseen evil influence. The elder was invested with similar\nproperties, which seem to have been more potent than even those\nattributed to the St. John's wort. According to an old tradition, any\nbaptized person whose eyes were anointed with the green juice of its\ninner bark could see witches in any part of the world. Hence the tree\nwas extremely obnoxious to witches, a fact which probably accounts for\nits having been so often planted near cottages. Its magic influence has\nalso caused it to be introduced into various rites, as in Styria on\nBertha Night (January 6th), when the devil goes about in great\nforce.[21] As a safeguard, persons are recommended to make a magic\ncircle, in the centre of which they should stand with elder-berries\ngathered on St. John's Night. By so doing the mystic fern seed may be\nobtained, which possesses the strength of thirty or forty men. In\nGermany, too, a species of wild radish is said to reveal witches, as\nalso is the ivy, and saxifrage enables its bearer to see witches on\nWalpurgis Night.\n\nBut, in spite of plants of this kind, witches somehow or other contrived\nto escape detection by the employment of the most subtle charms and\nspells. They generally, too, took the precaution of avoiding such plants\nas were antagonistic to them, displaying a cunning ingenuity in most of\ntheir designs which it was by no means easy to forestall. Hence in the\ncomposition of their philtres and potions they infused the juices of the\nmost deadly herbs, such as that of the nightshade or monkshood; and to\nadd to the potency of these baleful draughts they considered it\nnecessary to add as many as seven or nine of the most poisonous plants\nthey could obtain, such, for instance, as those enumerated by one of the\nwitches in Ben Jonson's \"Masque of Queens,\" who says:--\n\n  \"And I ha' been plucking plants among\n  Hemlock, Henbane, Adder's Tongue;\n  Nightshade, Moonwort, Libbard's bane,\n  And twice, by the dogs, was like to be ta'en.\"\n\nAnother plant used by witches in their incantations was the sea or\nhorned poppy, known in mediaeval times as _Ficus infernolis_; hence it is\nfurther noticed by Ben Jonson in the \"Witches' Song\":\n\n  \"Yes, I have brought to help our vows,\n  Horned poppy, cypress boughs,\n  The fig tree wild that grows on tombs,\n  And juice that from the larch tree comes.\"\n\nThen, of course, there was the wondrous moonwort (_Botrychium lunaria_),\nwhich was doubly valuable from its mystic virtue, for, as Culpepper[22]\ntells us, it was believed to open locks and possess other magic virtues.\nThe mullein, popularly termed the hag-taper, was also in request, and\nthe honesty (_Lunaria biennis_), \"in sorceries excelling,\" was equally\nemployed. By Scotch witches the woodbine was a favourite plant,[23] who,\nin effecting magical cures, passed their patients nine times through a\ngirth or garland of green woodbine.\n\nAgain, a popular means employed by witches of injuring their enemies was\nby the briony. Coles, in his \"Art of Simpling,\" for instance, informs us\nhow, \"they take likewise the roots of mandrake, according to some, or,\nas I rather suppose, the roots of briony, which simple folk take for the\ntrue mandrake, and make thereof an ugly image, by which they represent\nthe person on whom they intend to exercise their witchcraft.\" And Lord\nBacon, speaking of the mandrake, says--\"Some plants there are, but rare,\nthat have a mossie or downy root, and likewise that have a number of\nthreads, like beards, as mandrakes, whereof witches and impostours make\nan ugly image, giving it the form of a face at the top of the root, and\nleave those strings to make a broad beard down to the foot.\"\nThe witchcraft literature of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries\ncontains numerous allusions to the diabolical practice--a superstition\nimmortalised by Shakespeare. The mandrake, from its supposed mysterious\ncharacter, was intimately associated with witches, and Ben Jonson, in\nhis \"Masque of Queens,\" makes one of the hags who has been gathering\nthis plant say,\n\n  \"I last night lay all alone\n  On the ground, to hear the mandrake groan;\n  And plucked him up, though he grew full low,\n  And, as I had done, the cock did crow.\"\n\nWe have already incidentally spoken of the vervain, St. John's wort,\nelder, and rue as antagonistic to witchcraft, but to these may be added\nmany other well-known plants, such as the juniper, mistletoe, and\nblackthorn. Indeed, the list might be greatly extended--the vegetable\nkingdom having supplied in most parts of the world almost countless\ncharms to counteract the evil designs of these malevolent beings. In our\nown country the little pimpernel, herb-paris, and cyclamen were formerly\ngathered for this purpose, and the angelica was thought to be specially\nnoisome to witches. The snapdragon and the herb-betony had the\nreputation of averting the most subtle forms of witchcraft, and dill and\nflax were worn as talismans against sorcery. Holly is said to be\nantagonistic to witches, for, as Mr. Folkard[24] says, \"in its name they\nsee but another form of the word 'holy,' and its thorny foliage and\nblood-red berries are suggestive of the most Christian associations.\"\nThen there is the rowan-tree or mountain-ash, which has long been\nconsidered one of the most powerful antidotes against works of darkness\nof every kind, probably from its sacred associations with the worship of\nthe Druids. Hence it is much valued in Scotland, and the following\ncouplet, of which there are several versions, still embodies the popular\nfaith:\n\n  \"Rowan-tree and red thread,\n  Put the witches to their speed.\"\n\nBut its fame has not been confined to any one locality, and as far south\nas Cornwall the peasant, when he suspects that his cow has been\n\"overlooked,\" twists an ashen twig round its horns. Indeed, so potent is\nthe ash as a counter charm to sorcery, that even the smallest twig\nrenders their actions impotent; and hence, in an old ballad entitled\n\"Laidley Wood,\" in the \"Northumberland Garland,\" it is said:\n\n  \"The spells were vain, the hag returned\n    To the queen in sorrowful mood,\n  Crying that witches have no power,\n    Where there is row'n-tree wood.\"\n\nHence persons carry an ashen twig in their pocket, and according to a\nYorkshire proverb:\n\n  \"If your whipsticks made of row'n,\n  You may ride your nag through any town;\"\n\nBut, on the other hand, \"Woe to the lad without a rowan-tree gall.\"\nPossessed of such virtues, it is not surprising that the mystic ash\nshould have been held in the highest repute, in illustration of which we\nfind many an amusing anecdote. Thus, according to a Herefordshire\ntradition, some years ago two hogsheads full of money were concealed in\nan underground cellar belonging to the Castle of Penyard, where they\nwere kept by supernatural force. A farmer, however, made up his mind to\nget them out, and employed for the purpose twenty steers to draw down\nthe iron door of the vault. On the door being slightly opened, a jackdaw\nwas seen sitting on one of the casks, but the door immediately closed\nwith a bang--a voice being heard to say,\n\n  \"Had it not been\n    For your quicken tree goad,\n  And your yew tree pin,\n    You and your cattle\n  Had all been drawn in.\"\n\nAnother anecdote current in Yorkshire is interesting, showing how fully\nsuperstitions of this kind are believed[25]:--\"A woman was lately in my\nshop, and in pulling out her purse brought out also a piece of stick a\nfew inches long. I asked her why she carried that in her pocket. 'Oh,'\nshe replied, 'I must not lose that, or I shall be done for.' 'Why so?' I\ninquired. 'Well,' she answered, 'I carry that to keep off the witches;\nwhile I have that about me, they cannot hurt me.' On my adding that\nthere were no witches nowadays, she instantly replied, 'Oh, yes! there\nare thirteen at this very time in the town, but so long as I have my\nrowan-tree safe in my pocket they cannot hurt me.'\"\n\nOccasionally when the dairymaid churned for a long time without making\nbutter, she would stir the cream with a twig of mountain ash, and beat\nthe cow with another, thus breaking the witch's spell. But, to prevent\naccidents of this kind, it has long been customary in the northern\ncountries to make the churn-staff of ash. For the same reason herd-boys\nemploy an ash-twig for driving cattle, and one may often see a\nmountain-ash growing near a house. On the Continent the tree is in equal\nrepute, and in Norway and Denmark rowan branches are usually put over\nstable doors to keep out witches, a similar notion prevailing in\nGermany. No tree, perhaps, holds such a prominent place in\nwitchcraft-lore as the mountain-ash, its mystic power having rarely\nfailed to render fruitless the evil influence of these enemies\nof mankind.\n\nIn our northern counties witches are said to dislike the bracken fern,\n\"because it bears on its root the initial C, which may be seen on\ncutting the root horizontally.\"[26] and in most places equally\ndistasteful to them is the yew, perhaps for no better reason than its\nhaving formerly been much planted in churchyards. The herb-bennett\n(_Geum urbanum_), like the clover, from its trefoiled leaf, renders\nwitches powerless, and the hazel has similar virtues. Among some of the\nplants considered antagonistic to sorcery on the Continent may be\nmentioned the water-lily, which is gathered in the Rhine district with a\ncertain formula. In Tuscany, the lavender counteracts the evil eye, and\na German antidote against the hurtful effects of any malicious influence\nwas an ointment made of the leaves of the marsh-mallow. In Italy, an\nolive branch which has been blessed keeps the witch from the dwelling,\nand in some parts of the Continent the plum-tree is used. Kolb, writes\nMr. Black,[27] who became one of the first \"wonder-doctors\" of the\nTyrol, \"when he was called to assist any bewitched person, made exactly\nat midnight the smoke of five different sorts of herbs, and while they\nwere burning the bewitched was gently beaten with a martyr-thorn birch,\nwhich had to be got the same night. This beating the patient with thorn\nwas thought to be really beating the hag who had caused the evil.\"\n\nSome seasons, too, have been supposed to be closely associated with the\nwitches, as in Germany, where all flax must be spun before Twelfth\nNight, for one who spins afterwards is liable to be bewitched.\n\nLastly, to counteract the spell of the evil eye, from which many\ninnocent persons were believed to suffer in the witchcraft period, many\nflowers have been in requisition among the numerous charms used. Thus,\nthe Russian maidens still hang round the stem of the birch-tree red\nribbon, the Brahmans gather rice, and in Italy rue is in demand. The\nScotch peasantry pluck twigs of the ash, the Highland women the\ngroundsel, and the German folk wear the radish. In early times the\nringwort was recommended by Apuleius, and later on the fern was regarded\nas a preservative against this baneful influence. The Chinese put faith\nin the garlic; and, in short, every country has its own special plants.\nIt would seem, too, that after a witch was dead and buried,\nprecautionary measures were taken to frustrate her baneful influence.\nThus, in Russia, aspen is laid on a witch's grave, the dead sorceress\nbeing then prevented from riding abroad.\n\n\n\nFootnotes:\n\n\n1. See Moncure Conway's \"Demonology and Devil Lore,\" 1880, ii. 324.\n\n2. See Friend's \"Flower Lore,\" ii. 529-30.\n\n3. \"Demonology and Devil Lore,\" ii. 324.\n\n4. Grimm, \"Teutonic Mythology,\" 1883, iii. 1051.\n\n5. Folkard's \"Plant Lore, Legends, and Lyrics,\" 1884, p. 91.\n\n6. Thorpe's \"Northern Mythology,\" iii. 19.\n\n7. Grimm's \"Teutonic Mythology,\" iii. 1052.\n\n8. See Thorpe's \"Northern Mythology,\" iii. 267.\n\n9. See Folkard's \"Plant Lore, Legends, and Lyrics,\" p. 209.\n\n10. _Ibid._, p. 104.\n\n11. See Kelly's \"Indo-European Folk-lore,\" pp. 225-7.\n\n12. See Hardwick's \"Traditions, Superstitions, and Folk-lore,\" p. 117;\n    also Grimm's \"Teutonic Mythology,\" 1883, iii. 1083.\n\n13. See Thorpe's \"Northern Mythology,\" 1852, iii. 21, 137.\n\n14. \"Popular Romances of the West of England,\" 1871, p. 330.\n\n15. Grimm's \"Teutonic Mythology,\" iii. 1084.\n\n16. See Thorpe's \"Northern Mythology,\" iii. 208-9.\n\n17. See chap. \"Doctrine of Signatures.\"\n\n18. See Yardley's \"Supernatural in Romantic Fiction,\" 1880, pp. 131-2.\n\n19. See Fiske, \"Myths and Mythmakers,\" p. 44; also Baring-Gould's\n    \"Curious Myths of the Middle Ages,\" 1877, p. 398.\n\n20. \"Survey of London.\" See Mason's \"Folk-lore of British Plants\"\nin  _Dublin University Magazine_, September 1873, p. 326-8.\n\n21. Mr. Conway's \"Mystic Trees and Flowers,\" _Fraser's Magazine_,\n    1870, 602.\n\n22. \"British Herbal.\"\n\n23. See Folkard's \"Plant-lore Legends and Lyrics,\" p. 380.\n\n24. \"Plant-lore Legends and Lyrics,\" p. 376.\n\n25. Henderson's \"Folk-lore of Northern Counties,\" 1879, p. 225.\n\n26. \"Folk-lore of Northern Counties,\" 1879.\n\n27. \"Folk-medicine,\" p. 202.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nPLANTS IN DEMONOLOGY.\n\n\nThe association of certain plants with the devil forms an extensive and\nimportant division in their folk-lore, and in many respects is closely\nconnected with their mystic history. It is by no means easy always to\naccount for some of our most beautiful flowers having Satanic\nsurroundings, although frequently the explanation must be sought in\ntheir poisonous and deadly qualities. In some cases, too, the student of\ncomparative mythology may trace their evil reputation to those early\ntraditions which were the expressions of certain primitive beliefs, the\nsurvivals of which nowadays are found in many an apparently meaningless\nsuperstition. Anyhow, the subject is a very wide one, and is equally\nrepresented in most countries. It should be remembered, moreover, that\nrudimentary forms of dualism--the antagonism of a good and evil\ndeity[1]--have from a remote period occupied men's minds, a system of\nbelief known even among the lower races of mankind. Hence, just as some\nplants would in process of time acquire a sacred character, others would\ndo the reverse. Amongst the legendary stories and folktales of most\ncountries we find frequent allusion to the devil as an active agent in\nutilising various flowers for his mischievous pursuits; and on the\nContinent we are told of a certain evil spirit named Kleure who\ntransforms himself into a tree to escape notice, a superstition which\nunder a variety of forms still lingers here and there.[2] It would seem,\ntoo, that in some of our old legends and superstitions the terms Puck\nand Devil are synonymous, a circumstance which explains the meaning,\notherwise unintelligible, of many items of plant-lore in our own and\nother countries. Thus the word \"Puck\" has been identified with\n_Pogge_--toad, under which form the devil was supposed to be\npersonified; and hence probably originated such expressions as\ntoadstools, paddock-stools, &c. The thorns of the eglantine are said to\npoint downwards, because when the devil was excluded from heaven he\ntried to regain his lost position by means of a ladder composed of its\nthorns. But when the eglantine was only allowed to grow as a bush, out\nof spite he placed its thorns in their present eccentric position. The\nseed of the parsley, \"is apt to come up only partially, according as the\ndevil takes his tithe of it.\"[3] In Germany \"devil's oaks\" are of\nfrequent occurrence, and \"one of these at Gotha is held in great\nregard.\"[4] and Gerarde, describing the vervain, with its manifold\nmystic virtues, says that \"the devil did reveal it as a secret and\ndivine medicine.\" Belladonna, writes Mr. Conway, is esteemed in Bohemia\na favourite plant of the devil, who watches it, but may be drawn from it\non Walpurgis Night by letting loose a black hen, after which he will\nrun. Then there is the sow-thistle, which in Russia is said to belong to\nthe devil; and Loki, the evil spirit in northern mythology, is\noccasionally spoken of as sowing weeds among the good seed; from whence,\nit has been suggested, originated the popular phrase of \"sowing one's\nwild oats.\"[5] The German peasantry have their \"rye-wolf,\" a malignant\nspirit infesting the rye-fields; and in some parts of the Continent\norchards are said to be infested by evil demons, who, until driven away\nby various incantations, are liable to do much harm to the fruit. The\nItalians, again, affirm that in each leaf of the fig-tree an evil spirit\ndwells; and throughout the Continent there are various other demons who\nare believed to haunt the crops. Evil spirits were once said to lurk in\nlettuce-beds, and a certain species was regarded with ill favour by\nmothers, a circumstance which, Mr. Folkard rightly suggests,[6] may\naccount for a Surrey saying, \"O'er much lettuce in the garden will stop\na young wife's bearing.\" Among similar legends of the kind it is said\nthat, in Swabia, fern-seed brought by the devil between eleven and\ntwelve o'clock on Christmas night enables the bearer to do as much work\nas twenty or thirty ordinary men. According to a popular piece of\nsuperstition current in our southern counties, the devil is generally\nsupposed to put his cloven foot upon the blackberries on Michaelmas Day,\nand hence after this date it is considered unlucky to gather them during\nthe remainder of the year. An interesting instance of this superstition\nis given by Mrs. Latham in her \"West Sussex Superstitions,\" which\nhappened to a farmer's wife residing in the neighbourhood of Arundel. It\nappears that she was in the habit of making a large quantity of\nblackberry jam, and finding that less fruit had been brought to her than\nshe required, she said to the charwoman, \"I wish you would send some of\nyour children to gather me three or four pints more.\" \"Ma'am,\" exclaimed\nthe woman in astonishment, \"don't you know this is the 11th October?\"\n\"Yes,\" she replied. \"Bless me, ma'am! And you ask me to let my children\ngo out blackberrying! Why, I thought every one knew that the devil went\nround on the 10th October, and spat on all the blackberries, and that if\nany person were to eat on the 11th, he or some one belonging to him\nwould either die or fall into great trouble before the year was out.\"\n\n\nIn Scotland the devil is said to but throw his cloak over the\nblackberries and render them unwholesome, while in Ireland he is said to\nstamp on them. Among further stories of this kind may be quoted one\ncurrent in Devonshire respecting St. Dunstan, who, it is said, bought up\na quantity of barley for brewing beer. The devil, knowing how anxious\nthe saint would be to get a good sale for his beer, offered to blight\nthe apple trees, so that there should be no cider, and hence a greater\ndemand for beer, on condition that he sold himself to him. St. Dunstan\naccepted the offer, and stipulated that the trees should be blighted on\nthe 17th, 18th, and 19th May. Should the apple-blossom be nipped by cold\nwinds or frost about this time, many allusions are still made to\nSt. Dunstan.\n\nOf the plants associated personally with the evil one may be mentioned\nthe henbane, which is known in Germany as the \"devil's eye,\" a name\napplied to the stich-wort in Wales. A species of ground moss is also\nstyled in Germany the \"devil's claws;\" one of the orchid tribe is\n\"Satan's hand;\" the lady's fingers is \"devil's claws,\" and the plantain\nis \"devil's head.\" Similarly the house-leek has been designated the\n\"devil's beard,\" and a Norfolk name for the stinkhorn is \"devil's horn.\"\nOf further plants related to his Satanic majesty is the clematis, termed\n\"devil's thread,\" the toad-flax is his ribbon, the indigo his dye, while\nthe scandix forms his darning-needles. The tritoma, with its brilliant\nred blossom, is familiar in most localities as the \"devil's poker,\" and\nthe ground ivy has been nicknamed the \"devil's candlestick,\" the\nmandrake supplying his candle. The puff-balls of the lycoperdon form the\ndevil's snuff-box, and in Ireland the nettle is his apron, and the\nconvolvulus his garter; while at Iserlohn, in Germany,[7] \"the mothers,\nto deter their children eating the mulberries, sing to them that the\ndevil requires them for the purpose of blacking his boots.\" The _Arum\nmaculatum_ is \"devil's ladies and gentlemen,\" and the _Ranunculus\narvensis_ is the \"devil on both sides.\" The vegetable kingdom also has\nbeen equally mindful of his majesty's food, the spurge having long been\nnamed \"devil's milk\" and the briony the \"devil's cherry.\" A species of\nfungus, known with us as \"witches' butter,\" is called in Sweden \"devil's\nbutter,\" while one of the popular names for the mandrake is \"devil's\nfood.\" The hare-parsley supplies him with oatmeal, and the stichwort is\ntermed in the West of England \"devil's corn.\" Among further plants\nassociated with his Satanic majesty may be enumerated the garden fennel,\nor love-in-a-mist, to which the name of \"devil-in-a-bush\" has been\napplied, while the fruit of the deadly nightshade is commonly designated\n\"devil's berries.\" Then there is the \"devil's tree,\" and the \"devil's\ndung\" is one of the nicknames of the assafoetida. The hawk-weed, like\nthe scabious, was termed \"devil's bit,\" because the root looks as if it\nhad been bitten off. According to an old legend, \"the root was once\nlonger, until the devil bit away the rest for spite, for he needed it\nnot to make him sweat who is always tormented with fear of the day of\njudgment.\" Gerarde further adds that, \"The devil did bite it for envy,\nbecause it is an herb that hath so many great virtues, and is so\nbeneficial to mankind.\" A species of ranunculus supplies his\ncoach-wheels, and in some parts of the country ferns are said to supply\nhis brushes. His majesty's wants, therefore, have been amply provided\nfor by the vegetable kingdom, for even the wild garlic affords him a\nposy[8]. Once more, in Sweden, a rose-coloured flower, known as \"Our\nLady's hand,\" \"has two roots like hands, one white, the other black, and\nwhen both are placed in water the black one will sink, this is called\n'Satan's hand;' but the white one, called 'Mary's hand,' will float.\"[9]\nHence this flower is held in deep and superstitious veneration among the\npeasantry; and in Crete the basil is considered an emblem of the devil,\nand is placed on most window-ledges, no doubt as a charm.\n\nSome plants, again, have been used for exorcism from their reputed\nantagonism to all Satanic influence. Thus the avens or herb-bennett,\nwhen kept in a house, was believed to render the devil powerless, and\nthe Greeks of old were in the habit of placing a laurel bough over their\ndoorways to keep away evil spirits. The thistle has been long in demand\nfor counteracting the powers of darkness, and in Esthonia it is placed\non the ripening corn to drive and scare away malignant demons. In\nPoland, the disease known among the poorer classes as \"elf-lock\" is\nsupposed to be the work of wicked spirits, but tradition says it will\ngradually disappear if one buries thistle seed.[10] The aloe, by the\nEgyptians, is reputed to resist any baleful influence, and the lunary or\n\"honesty\" is by our own country people said to put every evil influence\nto flight. In Germany the juniper disperses evil spirits, and in ancient\ntimes the black hellebore, peony, and mugwort were largely used for this\npurpose. According to a Russian belief the elder-tree drives away evil\nspirits, and hence this plant is held in high respect. Among further\nplants possessing the same quality are the nettle and milfoil, and then\nthere is the famous St. John's wort, popularly nicknamed \"devil's flight.\"\n\nClosely allied with this part of our subject are those plants connected\nwith serpents, here forming a very numerous class. Indeed, it was only\nnatural that our ancestors, from their dread of the serpent on account\nof its poisonous sting, as well as from their antipathy to it as the\nsymbol of evil, should ascertain those plants which seemed either\nattractive, or antagonistic, to this much-dreaded reptile. Accordingly\ncertain plants, from being supposed to be distasteful to serpents, were\nmuch used as amulets to drive them away. Foremost among these may be\nmentioned the ash, to escape contact with which a serpent, it has been\nsaid, would even creep into the fire, in allusion to which Cowley\nthus writes:\n\n  \"But that which gave more wonder than the rest,\n  Within an ash a serpent built her nest\n  And laid her eggs, when once to come beneath\n  The very shadow of an ash was death.\"\n\nGerarde notices this curious belief, and tells us that, \"the leaves of\nthis tree are so great virtue against serpents that they dare not so\nmuch as touch the morning and evening shadows of the tree, but shun them\nafar off.\"\n\nHence ash-sap was a German remedy for serpent bites. Lucan, in his\n\"Pharsalia\" (915-921), has enumerated some of the plants burned for the\npurpose of expelling serpents:\n\n  \"Beyond the farthest tents rich fires they build,\n  That healthy medicinal odours yield,\n  There foreign galbanum dissolving fries,\n  And crackling flames from humble wallwort rise.\n  There tamarisk, which no green leaf adorns,\n  And there the spicy Syrian costos burns;\n  There centaury supplies the wholesome flame,\n  That from Therssalian Chiron takes its name;\n  The gummy larch tree, and the thapsos there,\n  Woundwort and maidenweed perfume the air,\n  There the long branches of the long-lived hart\n  With southernwood their odours strong impart,\n  The monsters of the land, the serpents fell,\n  Fly far away and shun the hostile smell.\"\n\nThe smoke of the juniper was equally repellent to serpents, and the\njuice of dittany \"drives away venomous beasts, and doth astonish them.\"\nIn olden times, for serpent bites, agrimony, chamomile, and the fruit of\nthe bramble, were held efficacious, and Gerarde recommends the root of\nthe bugloss, \"as it keepeth such from being stung as have drunk it\nbefore; the leaves and seeds do the same.\" On the other hand, some\nplants had the reputation of attracting serpents, one of these being the\nmoneywort or creeping loosestrife, with which they were said to heal\nthemselves when wounded. As far back as the time of Pliny serpents were\nsupposed to be very fond of fennel, restoring to them their youth by\nenabling them to cast their old skins. There is a belief in Thuringia\nthat the possession of fern seed causes the bearer to be pursued by\nserpents till thrown away; and, according to a curious Eussian proverb,\n\"from all old trees proceeds either an owl or a devil,\" in reference, no\ndoubt, to their often bare and sterile appearance.\n\n\n\nFootnotes:\n\n\n1. See Tylor's \"Primitive Culture,\" ii. 316.\n\n2. Thorpe's \"Northern Mythology,\" iii. 193.\n\n3. \"Plant-lore Legends and Lyrics,\" p. 486.\n\n4. Mr. Conway, _Fraser's Magazine_, 1870, p. 593.\n\n5. Mr. Conway, _Fraser's Magazine_, 1870, p. 107.\n\n6. \"Plant-lore Legends and Lyrics,\" p. 411.\n\n7. Folkard's \"Plant-lore Legends and Lyrics,\" p. 448.\n\n8. See Friend's \"Flower-lore,\" i. 68.\n\n9. Thorpe's \"Northern Mythology,\" ii. 104.\n\n10. \"Mystic Trees and Flowers,\" Fraser's Magazine.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nPLANTS IN FAIRY-LORE.\n\n\nMany plants have gained a notoriety from their connection with\nfairyland, and although the belief in this romantic source of\nsuperstition has almost died out, yet it has left its traces in the\nnumerous legends which have survived amongst us. Thus the delicate white\nflowers of the wood-sorrel are known in Wales as \"fairy bells,\" from a\nbelief once current that these tiny beings were summoned to their\nmoonlight revels and gambols by these bells. In Ireland they were\nsupposed to ride to their scenes of merrymaking on the ragwort, hence\nknown as the \"fairies' horse.\" Cabbage-stalks, too, served them for\nsteeds, and a story is told of a certain farmer who resided at\nDundaniel, near Cork, and was considered to be under fairy control. For\na long time he suffered from \"the falling sickness,\" owing to the long\njourneys which he was forced to make, night by night, with the fairy\nfolk on one of his own cabbage stumps. Sometimes the good people made\nuse of a straw, a blade of grass, or a fern, a further illustration of\nwhich is furnished by \"The Witch of Fife:\"\n\n  \"The first leet night, quhan the new moon set,\n    Quhan all was douffe and mirk,\n  We saddled our naigis wi' the moon-fern leif,\n    And rode fra Kilmerrin kirk.\n\n  Some horses were of the brume-cow framit,\n    And some of the greine bay tree;\n  But mine was made of ane humloke schaw,\n    And a stour stallion was he.\"[1]\n\nIn some folk-tales fairies are represented as employing nuts for their\nmode of conveyance, in allusion to which Shakespeare, in \"Romeo and\nJuliet,\" makes Mercutio speak of Queen Mab's arrival in a nut-shell.\nSimilarly the fairies selected certain plants for their attire. Although\ngreen seems to have been their popular colour, yet the fairies of the\nmoon were often clad in heath-brown or lichen-dyed garments, whence the\nepithet of \"Elfin-grey.\" Their petticoats, for instance, were composed\nof the fox-glove, a flower in demand among Irish fairies for their\ngloves, and in some parts of that country for their caps, where it is\nnicknamed \"Lusmore,\" while the _Cuscuta epithymum_ is known in Jersey as\n\"fairies' hair.\" Their raiment was made of the fairy flax, and the\nwood-anemone, with its fragile blossoms, was supposed to afford them\nshelter in wet weather. Shakespeare has represented Ariel reclining in\n\"a cowslip's bell,\" and further speaks of the small crimson drops in its\nblossom as \"gold coats spots\"--\"these be rubies, fairy favours.\" And at\nthe present day the cowslip is still known in Lincolnshire as the \"fairy\ncup.\" Its popular German name is \"key-flower;\" and no flower has had in\nthat country so extensive an association with preternatural wealth. A\nwell-known legend relates how \"Bertha\" entices some favoured child by\nexquisite primroses to a doorway overgrown with flowers. This is the\ndoor to an enchanted castle. When the key-flower touches it, the door\ngently opens, and the favoured mortal passes to a room with vessels\ncovered over with primroses, in which are treasures of gold and jewels.\nWhen the treasure is secured the primroses must be replaced, otherwise\nthe finder will be for ever followed by a \"black dog.\"\n\nSometimes their mantles are made of the gossamer, the cobwebs which may\nbe seen in large quantities on the furze bushes; and so of King Oberon\nwe are told:\n\n  \"A rich mantle did he wear,\n  Made of tinsel gossamer,\n  Bestarred over with a few\n  Diamond drops of morning dew.\"\n\n\nTulips are the cradles in which the fairy tribe have lulled their\noffspring to rest, while the _Pyrus japonica_ serves them for a fire.[2]\nTheir hat is supplied by the _Peziza coccinea_; and in Lincolnshire,\nwrites Mr. Friend,[3] \"A kind of fungus like a cup or old-fashioned\npurse, with small objects inside, is called a fairy-purse.\" When mending\ntheir clothes, the foxglove gives them thimbles; and many other flowers\nmight be added which are equally in request for their various needs. It\nshould be mentioned, however, that fairies, like witches, have a strange\nantipathy to yellow flowers, and rarely frequent localities where they\ngrow.\n\nIn olden times, we read how in Scandinavia and Germany the rose was\nunder the special protection of dwarfs and elves, who were ruled by the\nmighty King Laurin, the lord of the rose-garden:\n\n  \"Four portals to the garden lead, and when the gates are\n      closed,\n  No living might dare touch a rose, 'gainst his strict command\n     opposed;\n  Whoe'er would break the golden gates, or cut the silken\n     thread,\n  Or who would dare to crush the flowers down beneath his\n     tread,\n  Soon for his pride would have to pledge a foot and hand;\n  Thus Laurin, king of Dwarfs, rules within his land.\"\n\n\nWe may mention here that the beautiful white or yellow flowers that grow\non the banks of lakes and rivers in Sweden are called \"neck-roses,\"\nmemorials of the Neck, a water-elf, and the poisonous root of the\nwater-hemlock was known as neck-root.[4]\n\nIn Brittany and in some parts of Ireland the hawthorn, or, as it is\npopularly designated, the fairy-thorn, is a tree most specially in\nfavour. On this account it is held highly dangerous to gather even a\nleaf \"from certain old and solitary thorns which grow in sheltered\nhollows of the moorlands,\" for these are the trysting-places of the\nfairy race. A trace of the same superstition existed in Scotland, as may\nbe gathered from the subjoined extract from the \"Scottish Statistical\nReport\" of the year 1796, in connection with New parish:--\"There is a\nquick thorn of a very antique appearance, for which the people have a\nsuperstitious veneration. They have a mortal dread to lop off or cut any\npart of it, and affirm with a religious horror that some persons who had\nthe temerity to hurt it, were afterwards severely punished for their\nsacrilege.\"\n\nOne flower which, for some reason or other, is still held in special\nhonour by them, is the common stichwort of our country hedges, and which\nthe Devonshire peasant hesitates to pluck lest he should be pixy-led. A\nsimilar idea formerly prevailed in the Isle of Man in connection with\nthe St. John's wort. If any unwary traveller happened, after sunset, to\ntread on this plant, it was said that a fairy-horse would suddenly\nappear, and carry him about all night. Wild thyme is another of their\nfavourite plants, and Mr. Folkard notes that in Sicily rosemary is\nequally beloved; and that \"the young fairies, under the guise of snakes,\nlie concealed under its branches.\" According to a Netherlandish belief,\nthe elf-leaf, or sorceresses' plant, is particularly grateful to them,\nand therefore ought not to be plucked.[5]\n\nThe four-leaved clover is a magic talisman which enables its wearer to\ndetect the whereabouts of fairies, and was said only to grow in their\nhaunts; in reference to which belief Lover thus writes:\n\n\n  \"I'll seek a four-leaved clover\n  In all the fairy dells,\n  And if I find the charmed leaf,\n  Oh, how I'll weave my spells!\"\n\nAnd according to a Danish belief, any one wandering under an elder-bush\nat twelve o'clock on Midsummer Eve will see the king of fairyland pass\nby with all his retinue. Fairies' haunts are mostly in picturesque spots\n(such as among the tufts of wild thyme); and the oak tree, both here and\nin Germany, has generally been their favourite abode, and hence the\nsuperstitious reverence with which certain trees are held, care being\ntaken not to offend their mysterious inhabitants.\n\nAn immense deal of legendary lore has clustered round the so-called\nfairy-rings--little circles of a brighter green in old pastures--within\nwhich the fairies were supposed to dance by night. This curious\nphenomenon, however, is owing to the outspread propagation of a\nparticular mushroom, the fairy-ringed fungus, by which the ground is\nmanured for a richer following vegetation.[6] Amongst the many other\nconjectures as to the cause of these verdant circles, some have ascribed\nthem to lightning, and others have maintained that they are produced by\nants.[7] In the \"Tempest\" (v. i) Prospero invokes the fairies as the\n\"demi-puppets\" that:\n\n  \"By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make,\n  Whereof the ewe not bites; and you, whose pastime\n  Is to make midnight mushrooms.\"\n\nAnd in the \"Merry Wives of Windsor\" (v. 5) Mistress Quickly says:\n\n  \"And nightly, meadow-fairies, look, you sing,\n  Like to the Garter's compass, in a ring;\n  The expressure that it bears, green let it be,\n  More fertile-fresh than all the field to see.\"\n\nDrayton, in his \"Nymphidia\" (1. 69-72), tells how the fairies:\n\n  \"In their courses make that round,\n  In meadows and in marshes found,\n  Of them so called the fayrie ground,\n  Of which they have the keeping.\"\n\nThese fairy-rings have long been held in superstitious awe; and when in\nolden times May-dew was gathered by young ladies to improve their\ncomplexion, they carefully avoided even touching the grass within them,\nfor fear of displeasing these little beings, and so losing their\npersonal charms. At the present day, too, the peasant asserts that no\nsheep nor cattle will browse on the mystic patches, a natural instinct\nwarning them of their peculiar nature. A few miles from Alnwick was a\nfairy-ring, round which if people ran more than nine times, some evil\nwas supposed to befall them.\n\nIt is generally agreed that fairies were extremely fond of dancing\naround oaks, and thus in addressing the monarch of the forest a poet has\nexclaimed:\n\n\n  \"The fairies, from their nightly haunt,\n  In copse or dell, or round the trunk revered\n  Of Herne's moon-silvered oak, shall chase away\n  Each fog, each blight, and dedicate to peace\n  Thy classic shade.\"\n\n\nIn Sweden the miliary fever is said by the peasantry to be caused by the\nelf-mote or meeting with elves, as a remedy for which the lichen aphosus\nor lichen caninus is sought.\n\nThe toadstools often found near these so-called fairy-rings were also\nthought to be their workmanship, and in some localities are styled\npixy-stools, and in the North of Wales \"fairy-tables,\" while the\n\"cheeses,\" or fruit of the mallow, are known in the North of England as\n\"fairy-cheeses.\"\n\nA species of wood fungus found about the roots of old trees is\ndesignated \"fairy-butter,\" because after rain, and when in a certain\ndegree of putrefaction, it is reduced to a consistency which, together\nwith its colour, makes it not unlike butter. The fairy-butter of the\nWelsh is a substance found at a great depth in cavities of limestone\nrocks. Ritson, in his \"Fairy Tales,\" speaking of the fairies who\nfrequented many parts of Durham, relates how \"a woman who had been in\ntheir society challenged one of the guests whom she espied in the market\nselling fairy-butter,\" an accusation, however, which was\ndeeply resented.\n\nBrowne, in his \"Britannia's Pastorals,\" makes the table on which they\nfeast consist of:\n\n  \"A little mushroom, that was now grown thinner\n  By being one time shaven for the dinner.\"\n\nFairies have always been jealous of their rights, and are said to resent\nany infringement of their privileges, one of these being the property of\nfruit out of season. Any apples, too, remaining after the crop has been\ngathered in, they claim as their own; and hence, in the West of England,\nto ensure their goodwill and friendship, a few stray ones are purposely\nleft on the trees. This may partially perhaps explain the ill-luck of\nplucking flowers out of season[8]. A Netherlandish piece of folk-lore\ninforms us that certain wicked elves prepare poison in some plants.\nHence experienced shepherds are careful not to let their flocks feed\nafter sunset. One of these plants, they say, is nightwort, \"which\nbelongs to the elves, and whoever touches it must die[9].\" The disease\nknown in Poland as \"elf-lock\" is said to be the work of evil fairies or\ndemons, and is cured by burying thistle-seed in the ground. Similarly,\nin Iceland, says Mr. Conway, \"the farmer guards the grass around his\nfield lest the elves abiding in them invade his crops.\" Likewise the\nglobe-flower has been designated the troll-flower, from the malignant\ntrolls or elves, on account of its poisonous qualities. On the other\nhand, the Bavarian peasant has a notion that the elves are very fond of\nstrawberries; and in order that they may be good-humoured and bless his\ncows with abundance of milk, he is careful to tie a basket of this fruit\nbetween the cow's horns.\n\nOf the many legendary origins of the fairy tribe, there is a popular one\nabroad that mortals have frequently been transformed into these little\nbeings through \"eating of ambrosia or some peculiar kind of herb.\"[10]\n\nAccording to a Cornish tradition, the fern is in some mysterious manner\nconnected with the fairies; and a tale is told of a young woman who,\nwhen one day listlessly breaking off the fronds of fern as she sat\nresting by the wayside, was suddenly confronted by a \"fairy widower,\"\nwho was in search of some one to attend to his little son. She accepted\nhis offer, which was ratified by kissing a fern leaf and repeating\nthis formula:\n\n  \"For a year and a day\n  I promise to stay.\"\n\nSoon she was an inhabitant of fairyland, and was lost to mortal gaze\nuntil she had fulfilled her stipulated engagement.\n\nIn Germany we find a race of elves, somewhat like the dwarfs, popularly\nknown as the Wood or Moss people. They are about the same size as\nchildren, \"grey and old-looking, hairy, and clad in moss.\" Their lives,\nlike those of the Hamadryads, are attached to the trees; and \"if any one\ncauses by friction the inner bark to loosen a Wood-woman dies.\"[11]\nTheir great enemy is the Wild Huntsman, who, driving invisibly through\nthe air, pursues and kills them. On one occasion a peasant, hearing the\nweird baying in a wood, joined in the cry; but on the following morning\nhe found hanging at his stable door a quarter of a green Moss-woman as\nhis share of the game. As a spell against the Wild Huntsman, the\nMoss-women sit in the middle of those trees upon which the woodcutter\nhas placed a cross, indicating that they are to be hewn, thereby making\nsure of their safety. Then, again, there is the old legend which tells\nhow Brandan met a man on the sea,[12] who was, \"a thumb long, and\nfloated on a leaf, holding a little bowl in his right hand and a pointer\nin his left; the pointer he kept dipping into the sea and letting water\ndrop from it into the bowl; when the bowl was full, he emptied it out\nand began filling it again, his doom consisting in measuring the sea\nuntil the judgment-day.\" This floating on the leaf is suggestive of\nancient Indian myths, and reminds us of Brahma sitting on a lotus and\nfloating across the sea. Vishnu, when, after Brahma's death, the waters\nhave covered all the worlds, sits in the shape of a tiny infant on a\nleaf of the fig tree, and floats on the sea of milk sucking the toe of\nhis right foot.[13]\n\nAnother tribe of water-fairies are the nixes, who frequently assume the\nappearance of beautiful maidens. On fine sunny days they sit on the\nbanks of rivers or lakes, or on the branches of trees, combing and\narranging their golden locks:\n\n  \"Know you the Nixes, gay and fair?\n  Their eyes are black, and green their hair,\n  They lurk in sedgy shores.\"\n\nA fairy or water-sprite that resides in the neighbourhood of the Orkneys\nis popularly known as Tangie, so-called from _tang,_, the seaweed with\nwhich he is covered. Occasionally he makes his appearance as a little\nhorse, and at other times as a man.[14]\n\nThen there are the wood and forest folk of Germany, spirits inhabiting\nthe forests, who stood in friendly relation to man, but are now so\ndisgusted with the faithless world, that they have retired from it.\nHence their precept--\n\n  \"Peel no tree,\n  Relate no dream,\n  _Pipe_ no bread, _or_\n  Bake no cumin in bread,\n  So will God help thee in thy need.\"\n\nOn one occasion a \"forest-wife,\" who had just tasted a new baked-loaf,\ngiven as an offering, was heard screaming aloud:\n\n  \"They've baken for me cumin bread,\n  That on this house brings great distress.\"\n\nThe prosperity of the poor peasant was soon on the wane, and before long\nhe was reduced to abject poverty.[15] These legends, in addition to\nillustrating the fairy mythology of bygone years, are additionally\ninteresting from their connection with the plants and flowers, most of\nwhich are familiar to us from our childhood.\n\n\nFootnotes:\n\n1. See Crofton Croker's \"Fairy Legends and Traditions of the South\n   of Ireland,\" 1862, p. 98.\n\n2. Folkard's \"Plant-lore Legends and Lyrics,\" p. 30.\n\n3. Friend, \"Flowers and Flower Lore,\" p. 34.\n\n4. Thorpe's \"Northern Mythology,\" ii. 81-2.\n\n5. Thorpe's \"Northern Mythology,\" iii. 266.\n\n6. See \"The Phytologist,\" 1862, p. 236-8.\n\n7. \"Folk-lore of Shakespeare,\" p. 15.\n\n8. See Friend's \"Flower Lore,\" i. 34.\n\n9. Thorpe's \"Northern Mythology,\" iii. 266.\n\n10. Friend's \"Flower Lore,\" i. 27.\n\n11. See Keightley's \"Fairy Mythology,\" p. 231.\n\n12. Grimm's \"Teut. Myth.,\" 1883, ii. 451;\n\n13. \"Asiatic Researches,\" i. 345.\n\n14. See Keightley's \"Fairy Mythology,\" p. 173.\n\n15. Thorpe's \"Northern Mythology,\" i. 251-3.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nLOVE-CHARMS.\n\n\nPlants have always been largely used for testing the fidelity of lovers,\nand at the present day are still extensively employed for this purpose\nby the rustic maiden. As in the case of medical charms, more virtue\nwould often seem to reside in the mystic formula uttered while the\nflower is being secretly gathered, than in any particular quality of the\nflower itself. Then, again, flowers, from their connection with certain\nfestivals, have been consulted in love matters, and elsewhere we have\nalluded to the knowledge they have long been supposed to give in dreams,\nafter the performance of certain incantations.\n\nTurning to some of the well-known charm formulas, may be mentioned that\nknown as \"a clover of two,\" the mode of gathering it constituting the\ncharm itself:\n\n  \"A clover, a clover of two,\n  Put it in your right shoe;\n  The first young man you meet,\n  In field, street, or lane,\n  You'll get him, or one of his name.\"\n\nThen there is the hempseed formula, and one founded on the luck of an\napple-pip, which, when seized between the finger and thumb, is supposed\nto pop in the direction of the lover's abode; an illustration of which\nwe subjoin as still used in Lancashire:\n\n\n  \"Pippin, pippin, paradise,\n  Tell me where my true love lies,\n  East, west, north, and south,\n  Pilling Brig, or Cocker Mouth.\"\n\nThe old custom, too, of throwing an apple-peel over the head, marriage\nor single blessedness being foretold by its remaining whole or breaking,\nand of the peel so cast forming the initial of the future loved one,\nfinds many adherents. Equally popular, too, was the practice of divining\nby a thistle blossom. When anxious to ascertain who loved her most, a\nyoung woman would take three or four heads of thistles, cut off their\npoints, and assign to each thistle the name of an admirer, laying them\nunder her pillow. On the following morning the thistle which has put\nforth a fresh sprout will denote the man who loves her most.\n\nThere are numerous charms connected with the ash-leaf, and among those\nemployed in the North of England we may quote the following:\n\n  \"The even ash-leaf in my left hand,\n  The first man I meet shall be my husband;\n  The even ash-leaf in my glove,\n  The first I meet shall be my love;\n  The even ash-leaf in my breast,\n  The first man I meet's whom I love best;\n  The even ash-leaf in my hand,\n  The first I meet shall be my man.\n\n  Even ash, even ash, I pluck thee,\n  This night my true love for to see,\n  Neither in his rick nor in his rear,\n  But in the clothes he does every day wear.\"\n\nAnd there is the well-known saying current throughout the country:\n\n  \"If you find an even ash or a four-leaved clover,\n  Rest assured you'll see your true love ere the day is over.\"\n\nLongfellow alludes to the husking of the maize among the American\ncolonists, an event which was always accompanied by various ceremonies,\none of which he thus forcibly describes:\n\n  \"In the golden weather the maize was husked, and the\n      maidens\n  Blushed at each blood-red ear, for that betokened a lover,\n  But at the crooked laughed, and called it a thief in the\n      corn-field:\n  Even the blood-red ear to Evangeline brought not her\n      lover.\"\n\nCharms of this kind are common, and vary in different localities, being\nfound extensively on the Continent, where perhaps even greater\nimportance is attached to them than in our own country. Thus, a popular\nFrench one--which many of our young people also practise--is for lovers\nto test the sincerity of their affections by taking a daisy and plucking\nits leaflets off one by one, saying, \"Does he love me?--a\nlittle--much--passionately--not at all!\" the phrase which falls to the\nlast leaflet forming the answer to the inquiry:\n\n  \"La blanche et simple Paquerette,\n  Que ton coeur consult surtout,\n  Dit, Ton amant, tendre fillette,\n  T'aime, un peu, beaucoup, point du tout.\"\n\nPerhaps Brown alludes to the same species of divination when he writes\nof:\n\n  \"The gentle daisy with her silver crown,\n  Worn in the breast of many a shepherd lass.\"\n\nIn England the marigold, which is carefully excluded from the flowers\nwith which German maidens tell their fortunes as unfavourable to love,\nis often used for divination, and in Germany the star-flower and\ndandelion.\n\nAmong some of the ordinary flowers in use for love-divination may be\nmentioned the poppy, with its \"prophetic leaf,\" and the old-fashioned\n\"bachelor's buttons,\" which was credited with possessing some magical\neffect upon the fortunes of lovers. Hence its blossoms were carried in\nthe pocket, success in love being indicated in proportion as they lost\nor retained their freshness. Browne alludes to the primrose, which\n\"maidens as a true-love in their bosoms place;\" and in the North of\nEngland the kemps or spikes of the ribwort plantain are used as\nlove-charms. The mode of procedure as practised in Northamptonshire is\nthus picturesquely given by Clare in his \"Shepherd's Calendar:\":\n\n  \"Or trying simple charms and spells,\n  Which rural superstition tells,\n  They pull the little blossom threads\n  From out the knotweed's button heads,\n  And put the husk, with many a smile,\n  In their white bosom for a while;\n\n  Then, if they guess aright the swain\n  Their love's sweet fancies try to gain,\n  'Tis said that ere it lies an hour,\n  'Twill blossom with a second flower,\n  And from the bosom's handkerchief\n  Bloom as it ne'er had lost a leaf.\"\n\nThen there are the downy thistle-heads, which the rustic maiden names\nafter her lovers, in connection with which there are many old rhymes.\nBeans have not lost their popularity; and the leaves of the laurel still\nreveal the hidden fortune, having been also burnt in olden times by\ngirls to win back their errant lovers.\n\nThe garden scene in \"Faust\" is a well-known illustration of the\nemployment of the centaury or bluebottle for testing the faith of\nlovers, for Margaret selects it as the floral indication whence she may\nlearn the truth respecting Faust:\n\n  \"And that scarlet poppies around like a bower,\n  The maiden found her mystic flower.\n  'Now, gentle flower, I pray thee tell\n  If my love loves, and loves me well;\n  So may the fall of the morning dew\n  Keep the sun from fading thy tender blue;\n  Now I remember the leaves for my lot--\n  He loves me not--he loves me--he loves me not--\n  He loves me! Yes, the last leaf--yes!\n  I'll pluck thee not for that last sweet guess;\n  He loves me!' 'Yes,' a dear voice sighed;\n  And her lover stands by Margaret's side.\"\n\nAnother mode of love-divination formerly much practised among the lower\norders was known as \"peascod-wooing.\" The cook, when shelling green\npeas, would, if she chanced to find a pod having _nine_, lay it on the\nlintel of the kitchen-door, when the first man who happened to enter was\nbelieved to be her future sweetheart; an allusion to which is thus\ngiven by Gay:\n\n  \"As peascod once I pluck'd, I chanced to see\n  One that was closely fill'd with three times three,\n  Which, when I cropp'd, I safely home couvey'd,\n  And o'er the door the spell in secret laid.\n  The latch mov'd up, when who should first come in,\n  But, in his proper person, Lublerkin.\"\n\nOn the other hand, it was customary in the North of England to rub a\nyoung woman with pease-straw should her lover prove unfaithful:\n\n  \"If you meet a bonnie lassie,\n    Gie her a kiss and let her gae;\n  If you meet a dirty hussey,\n    Fie, gae rub her o'er wi' strae!\"\n\nFrom an old Spanish proverb it would seem that the rosemary has long\nbeen considered as in some way connected with love:\n\n  \"Who passeth by the rosemarie\n    And careth not to take a spraye,\n  For woman's love no care has he,\n    Nor shall he though he live for aye.\"\n\nOf flowers and plants employed as love-charms on certain festivals may\nbe noticed the bay, rosebud, and the hempseed on St. Valentine's Day,\nnuts on St. Mark's Eve, and the St. John's wort on Midsummer Eve.\n\nIn Denmark[1] many an anxious lover places the St. John's wort between\nthe beams under the roof for the purpose of divination, the usual custom\nbeing to put one plant for herself and another for her sweetheart.\nShould these grow together, it is an omen of an approaching wedding. In\nBrittany young people prove the good faith of their lovers by a pretty\nceremony. On St. John's Eve, the men, wearing bunches of green wheat\nears, and the women decorated with flax blossoms, assemble round an old\nhistoric stone and place upon it their wreaths. Should these remain\nfresh for some time after, the lovers represented by them are to be\nunited; but should they wither and die away, it is a certain proof that\nthe love will as rapidly disappear. Again, in Sicily it is customary for\nyoung women to throw from their windows an apple into the street, which,\nshould a woman pick up, it is a sign that the girl will not be married\nduring the year. Sometimes it happens that the apple is not touched, a\ncircumstance which indicates that the young lady, when married, will ere\nlong be a widow. On this festival, too, the orpine or livelong has long\nbeen in request, popularly known as \"Midsummer men,\" whereas in Italy\nthe house-leek is in demand. The moss-rose, again, in years gone by, was\nplucked, with sundry formalities, on Midsummer Eve for love-divination,\nan allusion to which mode of forecasting the future, as practised in our\nown country, occurs in the poem of \"The Cottage Girl:\"\n\n  \"The moss-rose that, at fall of dew,\n  Ere eve its duskier curtain drew,\n  Was freshly gathered from its stem,\n  She values as the ruby gem;\n  And, guarded from the piercing air,\n  With all an anxious lover's care,\n  She bids it, for her shepherd's sake,\n  Awake the New Year's frolic wake:\n  When faded in its altered hue,\n  She reads--the rustic is untrue!\n  But if its leaves the crimson paint,\n  Her sick'ning hopes no longer faint;\n  The rose upon her bosom worn,\n  She meets him at the peep of morn.\"\n\nOn the Continent the rose is still thought to possess mystic virtues in\nlove matters, as in Thuringia, where girls foretell their future by\nmeans of rose-leaves.\n\nA ceremony belonging to Hallowe'en is observed in Scotland with some\ntrepidation, and consists in eating an apple before a looking-glass,\nwhen the face of the desired one will be seen. It is thus described\nby Burns:\n\n  \"Wee Jenny to her granny says,\n    'Will ye gae wi' me, granny?\n  I'll eat the apple at the glass\n    I gat frae uncle Johnny.'\n  She fuff't her pipe wi' sic a lunt,\n    In wrath she was sae vap'rin,\n  She notic't na an aizle brunt\n    Her braw new worset apron\n      Out thro' that night.\n\n  'Ye little skelpie limmer's face!\n    I daur you try sic sportin'\n  As seek the foul thief ony place,\n    For him to spae your fortune;\n  Nae doubt but ye may get a sight!\n    Great cause ye hae to fear it,\n  For mony a ane has gotten a fright,\n    And lived and died deleeret\n      On sic a night.'\"\n\nHallowe'en also is still a favourite anniversary for all kinds of\nnut-charms, and St. Thomas was long invoked when the prophetic onion\nnamed after him was placed under the pillow. Rosemary and thyme were\nused on St. Agnes' Eve with this formula:\n\n  \"St. Agnes, that's to lovers kind,\n  Come, ease the troubles of my mind.\"\n\nIn Austria, on Christmas Eve, apples are used for divination. According\nto Mr. Conway, the apple must be cut in two in the dark, without being\ntouched, the left half being placed in the bosom, and the right laid\nbehind the door. If this latter ceremony be carefully carried out, the\ndesired one may be looked for at midnight near the right half. He\nfurther tells us that in the Erzgebirge, the maiden, having slept on St.\nAndrew's, or Christmas, night with an apple under her pillow, \"takes her\nstand with it in her hand on the next festival of the Church thereafter;\nand the first man whom she sees, other than a relative, will become\nher husband.\"\n\nAgain, in Bohemia, on Christmas Eve, there is a pretty practice for\nyoung people to fix coloured wax-lights in the shells of the first nuts\nthey have opened that day, and to float them in water, after silently\nassigning to each the name of some fancied wooer. He whose little barque\nis the first to approach the girl will be her future husband; but, on\nthe other hand, should an unwelcome suitor seem likely to be the first,\nshe blows against it, and so, by impeding its progress, allows the\nfavoured barque to win.\n\nIn very early times flowers were mcuh in request as love-philtres,\nvarious allusions to which occur in the literature of most ages. Thus,\nin \"A Midsummer Night's Dream,\" Oberon tells Puck to place a pansy on\nthe eyes of Titania, in order that, on awaking, she may fall in love\nwith the first object she encounters. Gerarde speaks of the carrot as\n\"serving for love matters,\" and adds that the root of the wild species\nis more effectual than that of the garden. Vervain has long been in\nrepute as a love-philtre, and in Germany now-a-days endive-seed is sold\nfor its supposed power to influence the affections. The root of the male\nfern was in years gone by used in love-philtres, and hence the following\nallusion:\n\n  \"'Twas the maiden's matchless beauty\n    That drew my heart a-nigh;\n  Not the fern-root potion,\n    But the glance of her blue eye.\"\n\nThen there is the basil with its mystic virtues, and the cumin-see and\ncyclamen, which from the time of Theophrastus have been coveted for\ntheir magic virtues. The purslane, crocus, and periwinkle were thought\nto inspire love; while the agnus castus and the Saraca Indica (one of\nthe sacred plants of India), a species of the willow, were supposed to\ndrive away all feelings of love. Similarly in Voigtland, the common\nbasil was regarded as a test of chastity, withering in the hands of the\nimpure. The mandrake, which is still worn in France as a love-charm, was\nemployed by witches in the composition of their philtres; and in\nBohemia, it is said that if a maiden can secretly put a sprig of the\ncommon clover into her lover's shoe ere he sets out on a journey, he\nwill be faithful to her during his absence. As far back as the time of\nPliny, the water-lily was regarded as an antidote to the love-philtre,\nand the amaranth was used for curbing the affections. On the other hand,\nOur Lady's bedstraw and the mallow were supposed to have the reverse\neffect, while the myrtle not only created love, but preserved it. The\nSicilians still employ hemp to secure the affections of those they love,\nand gather it with various formalities,[2] fully believing in its\npotency. Indeed, charms of this kind are found throughout the world,\nevery country having its own special plants in demand for this purpose.\nHowever whimsical they may seem, they at any rate have the sanction of\nantiquity, and can claim an antecedent history certainly worthy of a\nbetter cause.\n\n\n\nFootnotes:\n\n\n1. Thorpe's \"Northern Mythology.\"\n\n2. _Fraser's Magazine_, 1870, p. 720.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nDREAM-PLANTS.\n\n\nThe importance attached to dreams in all primitive and savage culture\naccounts for the significance ascribed to certain plants found by\nvisitors to dreamland. At the outset, it may be noticed that various\ndrugs and narcotic potions have, from time immemorial, been employed for\nproducing dreams and visions--a process still in force amongst\nuncivilised tribes. Thus the Mundrucus of North Brazil, when desirous of\ngaining information on any special subject, would administer to their\nseers narcotic drinks, so that in their dreams they might be favoured\nwith the knowledge required. Certain of the Amazon tribes use narcotic\nplants for encouraging visions, and the Californian Indians, writes Mr.\nTylor,[1] \"would give children narcotic potions, to gain from the\nensuing visions information about their enemies;\" whilst, he adds, \"the\nDarien Indians used the seeds of the _Datura sanguinca_ to bring on in\nchildren prophetic delirium, in which they revealed hidden treasure.\"\nSimilarly, the Delaware medicine-men used to drink decoctions of an\nintoxicating nature, \"until their minds became wildered, so that they\nsaw extraordinary visions.\"[2]\n\nThe North American Indians also held intoxication by tobacco to be\nsupernatural ecstasy. It is curious to find a survival of this source of\nsuperstition in modern European folk-lore. Thus, on the Continent, many\na lover puts the four-leaved clover under his pillow to dream of his\nlady-love; and in our own country, daisy-roots are used by the rustic\nmaiden for the same purpose. The Russians are familiar with a certain\nherb, known as the _son-trava_, a dream herb, which has been identified\nwith the _Pulsatilla patens,_ and is said to blossom in April, and to\nhave an azure-coloured flower. When placed under the pillow, it will\ninduce dreams, which are generally supposed to be fulfilled. It has been\nsuggested that it was from its title of \"tree of dreams\" that the elm\nbecame a prophetic tree, having been selected by Virgil in the Aeneid\n(vi.) as the roosting-place of dreams in gloomy Orcus:\n\n  \"Full in the midst a spreading elm displayed\n  His aged arms, and cast a mighty shade;\n  Each trembling leaf with some light visions teems,\n  And leaves impregnated with airy dreams.\"\n\nAt the present day, the yarrow or milfoil is used by love-sick maidens,\nwho are directed to pluck the mystic plant from a young man's grave,\nrepeating meanwhile this formula:\n\n \"Yarrow, sweet yarrow, the first that I have found, In the name of Jesus\n Christ I pluck it from the ground; As Jesus loved sweet Mary and took\n her for His dear, So in a dream this night I hope my true love\n will appear.\"\n\nIndeed, many other plants are in demand for this species of\nlove-divination, some of which are associated with certain days and\nfestivals. In Sweden, for instance, \"if on Midsummer night nine kinds of\nflowers are laid under the head, a youth or maiden will dream of his or\nher sweetheart.\"[3] Hence in these simple and rustic love-charms may be\ntraced similar beliefs as prevail among rude communities.\n\nAgain, among many of the American Indian tribes we find, according to\nMr. Dorman,[4] \"a mythical tree or vine, which has a sacredness\nconnected with it of peculiar significance, forming a connecting-link\nand medium of communication between the world of the living and the\ndead. It is generally used by the spirit as a ladder to pass downward\nand upward upon; the Ojibways having possessed one of these vines, the\nupper end of which was twined round a star.\" He further adds that many\ntraditions are told of attempts to climb these heavenly ladders; and,\n\"if a young man has been much favoured with dreams, and the people\nbelieve he has the art of looking into futurity, the path is open to the\nhighest honours. The future prophet puts down his dreams in pictographs,\nand when he has a collection of these, if they prove true in any\nrespect, then this record of his revelations is appealed to as proof of\nhis prophetic power.\" But, without enumerating further instances of\nthese savage dream-traditions, which are closely allied with the\nanimistic theories of primitive culture, we would turn to those plants\nwhich modern European folk-lore has connected with dreamland. These are\nsomewhat extensive, but a brief survey of some of the most important\nones will suffice to indicate their general significance.\n\nFirstly, to dream of white flowers has been supposed to prognosticate\ndeath; with which may be compared the popular belief that \"if a white\nrosebush puts forth unexpectedly, it is a sign of death to the nearest\nhouse;\" dream-omens in many cases reflecting the superstitions of daily\nlife. In Scotch ballads the birch is associated with the dead, an\nillustration of which we find in the subjoined lines:--\n\n  \"I dreamed a dreary dream last nicht;\n    God keep us a' frae sorrow!\n  I dreamed I pu'd the birk sae green,\n    Wi' my true love on Yarrow.\n\n  I'll redde your dream, my sister dear,\n    I'll tell you a' your sorrow;\n  You pu'd the birk wi' your true love;\n    He's killed,--he's killed on Yarrow.\"\n\nOf the many plants which have been considered of good omen when seen in\ndreams, may be mentioned the palm-tree, olive, jasmine, lily, laurel,\nthistle, thorn, wormwood, currant, pear, &c.; whereas the greatest luck\nattaches to the rose. On the other hand, equally numerous are the plants\nwhich denote misfortune. Among these may be included the plum, cherry,\nwithered roses, walnut, hemp, cypress, dandelion, &c. Beans are still\nsaid to produce bad dreams and to portend evil; and according to a\nLeicestershire saying, \"If you wish for awful dreams or desire to go\ncrazy, sleep in a bean-field all night.\" Some plants are said to\nforetell long life, such as the oak, apricot, apple, box, grape, and\nfig; and sickness is supposed to be presaged by such plants as the\nelder, onion, acorn, and plum.\n\nLove and marriage are, as might be expected, well represented in the\ndream-flora; a circumstance, indeed, which has not failed to impress the\nyoung at all times. Thus, foremost amongst the flowers which indicate\nsuccess in love is the rose, a fact which is not surprising when it is\nremembered how largely this favourite of our gardens enters into\nlove-divinations. Then there is the clover, to dream of which foretells\nnot only a happy marriage, but one productive of wealth and prosperity.\nIn this case, too, it must be remembered the clover has long been\nreckoned as a mystic plant, having in most European countries been much\nemployed for the purposes of divination. Of further plants credited as\nauguring well for love affairs are the raspberry, pomegranate, cucumber,\ncurrant, and box; but the walnut implies unfaithfulness, and the act of\ncutting parsley is an omen that the person so occupied will sooner or\nlater be crossed in love. This ill-luck attached to parsley is in some\nmeasure explained from the fact that in many respects it is an unlucky\nplant. It is a belief, as we have noticed elsewhere, widely spread in\nDevonshire, that to transplant parsley is to commit a serious offence\nagainst the guardian genius who presides over parsley-beds, certain to\nbe punished either on the offender himself or some member of his family\nwithin the course of the year. Once more \"to dream of cutting cabbage,\"\nwrites Mr. Folkard,[5] \"Denotes jealousy on the part of wife, husband,\nor lover, as the case may be. To dream of any one else cutting them\nportends an attempt by some person to create jealousy in the loved one's\nmind. To dream of eating cabbages implies sickness to loved ones and\nloss of money.\" The bramble, an important plant in folk-lore, is partly\nunlucky, and, \"To dream of passing through places covered with brambles\nportends troubles; if they prick you, secret enemies will do you an\ninjury with your friends; if they draw blood, expect heavy losses in\ntrade.\" But to dream of passing through brambles unhurt denotes a\ntriumph over enemies. To dream of being pricked with briars, says the\n\"Royal Dream Book,\"[6] \"shows that the person dreaming has an ardent\ndesire to something, and that young folks dreaming thus are in love, who\nprick themselves in striving to gather their rose.\"\n\nSome plants are said to denote riches, such as the oak, marigold, pear\nand nut tree, while the gathering of nuts is said to presage the\ndiscovery of unexpected wealth. Again, to dream of fruit or flowers out\nof season is a bad omen, a notion, indeed, with which we find various\nproverbs current throughout the country. Thus, the Northamptonshire\npeasant considers the blooming of the apple-tree after the fruit is ripe\nas a certain omen of death--a belief embodied in the following\nproverb:\n\n  \"A bloom upon the apple-tree when the apples are ripe,\n  Is a sure termination to somebody's life.\"\n\nAnd once more, according to an old Sussex adage--\n\n  \"Fruit out of season\n  Sounds out of reason.\"\n\nOn the other hand, to dream of fruit or any sort of crop during its\nproper season is still an indication of good luck.[7] Thus it is lucky\nto dream of daisies in spring-time or summer, but just the reverse in\nautumn or winter. Without enumerating further instances of this kind, we\nmay quote the subjoined rhyme relating to the onion, as a specimen of\nmany similar ones scattered here and there in various countries:[8]\n\n  \"To dream of eating onions means\n  Much strife in thy domestic scenes,\n  Secrets found out or else betrayed,\n  And many falsehoods made and said.\"\n\nMany plants in dream-lore have more than one meaning attached to them.\nThus from the, \"Royal Dream Book\" we learn that yellow flowers \"predict\nlove mixed with jealousy, and that you will have more children to\nmaintain than what justly belong to you.\" To dream of garlic indicates\nthe discovery of hidden treasures, but the approach of some domestic\nquarrel.\n\nCherries, again, indicate inconstancy; but one would scarcely expect to\nfind the thistle regarded as lucky; for, according to an old piece of\nfolk-lore, to dream of being surrounded by this plant is a propitious\nsign, foretelling that the person will before long have some pleasing\nintelligence. In the same way a similar meaning in dream-lore attaches\nto the thorn.\n\nAccording to old dream-books, the dreaming of yew indicates the death of\nan aged person, who will leave considerable wealth behind him; while the\nviolet is said to devote advancement in life. Similarly, too, the vine\nforetells prosperity, \"for which,\" says a dream interpreter, \"we have\nthe example of Astyages, king of the Medes, who dreamed that his\ndaughter brought forth a vine, which was a prognostic of the grandeur,\nriches, and felicity of the great Cyrus, who was born of her after this\ndream.\"\n\nPlucking ears of corn signifies the existence of secret enemies, and Mr.\nFolkard quotes an old authority which tells us that the juniper is\npotent in dreams. Thus, \"it is unlucky to dream of the tree itself,\nespecially if the person be sick; but to dream of gathering the berries,\nif it be in winter, denotes prosperity. To dream of the actual berries\nsignifies that the dreamer will shortly arrive at great honours and\nbecome an important person. To the married it foretells the birth of a\nmale child.\"\n\nAgain, eating almonds signifies a journey, its success or otherwise\nbeing denoted by their tasting sweet or the contrary. Dreaming of grass\nis an auspicious omen, provided it be green and fresh; but if it be\nwithered and decayed, it is a sign of the approach of misfortune and\nsickness, followed perhaps by death. Woe betide, too, the person who\ndreams that he is cutting grass.\n\nCertain plants produce dreams on particular occasions. The mugwort and\nplantain have long been associated with Midsummer; and, according to\nThomas Hill in his \"Natural and Artificial Conclusions,\" a rare coal is\nto be found under these plants but one hour in the day, and one day in\nthe year. When Aubrey happened to be walking behind Montague House at\ntwelve o'clock on Midsummer day, he relates how he saw about twenty-two\nyoung women, most of them well dressed, and apparently all very busy\nweeding. On making inquiries, he was informed that they were looking for\na coal under the root of a plantain, to put beneath their heads that\nnight, when they would not fail to dream of their future husbands. But,\nunfortunately for this credulity, as an old author long ago pointed out,\nthe coal is nothing but an old dead root, and that it may be found\nalmost any day and hour when sought for. By lovers the holly has long\nbeen supposed to have mystic virtues as a dream-plant when used on the\neve of any of the following festivals:\n\n Christmas,\n New Year's Day,\n Midsummer, and\n All Hallowe'en.\n\nAccording to the mode of procedure practised in the northern counties,\nthe anxious maiden, before retiring to rest, places three pails full of\nwater in her bedroom, and then pins to her night-dress three leaves of\ngreen holly opposite to her heart, after which she goes to sleep.\nBelieving in the efficacy of the charm, she persuades herself that she\nwill be roused from her first slumber by three yells, as if from the\nthroats of three bears, succeeded by as many hoarse laughs. When these\nhave died away, the form of her future husband will appear, who will\nshow his attachment to her by changing the position of the water-pails,\nwhereas if he have no particular affection he will disappear without\neven touching them.\n\nThen, of course, from time immemorial all kinds of charms have been\nobserved on St. Valentine's Day to produce prophetic dreams. A popular\ncharm consisted of placing two bay leaves, after sprinkling them with\nrose-water, across the pillow, repeating this formula:--\n\n  \"Good Valentine, be kind to me,\n  In dream let me my true love see.\"\n\nSt. Luke's Day was in years gone by a season for love-divination, and\namong some of the many directions given we may quote the subjoined,\nwhich is somewhat elaborate:--\n\n                                       \"Take marigold flowers, a sprig of\n marjoram, thyme, and a little wormwood; dry them before a fire, rub them\n to powder, then sift it through a fine piece of lawn; simmer these with\n a small quantity of virgin honey, in white vinegar, over a slow fire;\n with this anoint your stomach, breasts, and lips, lying down, and repeat\n these words thrice:--\n\n  'St Luke, St. Luke, be kind to me,\n  In dream let me my true love see!'\n\n This said, hasten to sleep, and in the soft slumbers of night's repose,\n the very man whom you shall marry shall appear before you.\"\n\nLastly, certain plants have been largely used by gipsies and\nfortune-tellers for invoking dreams, and in many a country village these\nare plucked and given to the anxious inquirer with various formulas.\n\n\n\nFootnotes:\n\n\n1. \"Primitive Culture,\" 1873, ii. 416, 417.\n\n2. See Dorman's \"Primitive Superstition,\" p. 68.\n\n3. Thorpe's \"Northern Mythology,\" 1851, ii. 108.\n\n4. \"Primitive Superstitions,\" p. 67.\n\n5. \"Plant-lore Legends and Lyrics,\" p. 265.\n\n6. Quoted in Brand's \"Popular Antiquities,\" 1849, iii. 135.\n\n7. See Friend's \"Flower-Lore,\" i. 207.\n\n8. Folkard's \"Plant-lore Legends and Lyrics,\" p. 477.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nPLANTS AND THE WEATHER.\n\n\nThe influence of the weather on plants is an agricultural belief which\nis firmly credited by the modern husbandman. In many instances his\nmeteorological notions are the result of observation, although in some\ncases the reason assigned for certain pieces of weather-lore is far from\nobvious. Incidental allusion has already been made to the astrological\ndoctrine of the influence of the moon's changes on plants--a belief\nwhich still retains its hold in most agricultural districts. It appears\nthat in years gone by \"neither sowing, planting, nor grafting was ever\nundertaken without a scrupulous attention to the increase or waning of\nthe moon;\"[1] and the advice given by Tusser in his \"Five Hundred Points\nof Husbandry\" is not forgotten even at the present day:--\n\n  \"Sow peas and beans in the wane of the moon,\n  Who soweth them sooner, he soweth too soon,\n  That they with the planet may rest and rise,\n  And flourish with bearing, most plentiful-wise.\"\n\nMany of the old gardening books give the same advice, although by some\nit has been severely ridiculed.\n\nScott, in his \"Discoverie of Witchcraft,\" notes how, \"the poor\nhusbandman perceiveth that the increase of the moon maketh plants\nfruitful, so as in the full moone they are in best strength, decaying in\nthe wane, and in the conjunction do entirely wither and fade.\"\nSimilarly the growth of mushrooms is said to be affected by the weather,\nand in Devonshire apples \"shrump up\" if picked during a waning moon.[2]\n\nOne reason, perhaps, for the attention so universally paid to the moon's\nchanges in agricultural pursuits is, writes Mr. Farrer, \"that they are\nfar more remarkable than any of the sun's, and more calculated to\ninspire dread by the nocturnal darkness they contend with, and hence are\nheld in popular fancy nearly everywhere, to cause, portend, or accord\nwith changes in the lot of mortals, and all things terrestrial.\"[3]\n\nOn this assumption may be explained the idea that the, \"moon's wane\nmakes things on earth to wane; when it is new or full it is everywhere\nthe proper season for new crops to be sown.\" In the Hervey Islands\ncocoa-nuts are generally planted in the full of the moon, the size of\nthe latter being regarded as symbolical of the ultimate fulness of the\nfruit.\n\nIn the same way the weather of certain seasons of the year is supposed\nto influence the vegetable world, and in Rutlandshire we are told that\n\"a green Christmas brings a heavy harvest;\" but a full moon about\nChristmas Day is unlucky, hence the adage:\n\n  \"Light Christmas, light wheatsheaf,\n  Dark Christmas, heavy wheatsheaf.\"\n\nIf the weather be clear on Candlemas Day \"corn and fruits will then be\ndear,\" and \"whoever doth plant or sow on Shrove Tuesday, it will always\nremain green.\" According to a piece of weather-lore in Sweden, there is\na saying that to strew ash branches in a field on Ash Wednesday is\nequivalent to three days' rain and three days' sun. Rain on Easter Day\nforetells a good harvest but poor hay crop, while thunder on All Fool's\nDay \"brings good crops of corn and hay.\" According to the \"Shepherd's\nCalendar,\" if, \"Midsummer Day be never so little rainy the hazel and\nwalnut will be scarce; corn smitten in many places; but apples, pears,\nand plums will not be hurt.\" And we are further reminded:--\n\n  \"Till St. James's Day be come and gone,\n  There may be hops or there may be none.\"\n\nSpeaking of hops, it is said, \"plenty of ladybirds, plenty of hops.\"\nIt is also a popular notion among our peasantry that if a drop of rain\nhang on an oat at this season there will be a good crop. Another\nagricultural adage says:--\n\n  \"No tempest, good July, lest corn come off bluely.\"\n\nThen there is the old Michaelmas rhyme:--\n\n  \"At Michaelmas time, or a little before,\n  Half an apple goes to the core;\n  At Christmas time, or a little after,\n  A crab in the hedge, and thanks to the grafter.\"\n\nOn the other hand, the blossoming of plants at certain times is said to\nbe an indication of the coming weather, and so when the bramble blooms\nearly in June an early harvest may be expected; and in the northern\ncounties the peasant judges of the advance of the year by the appearance\nof the daisy, affirming that \"spring has not arrived till you can set\nyour foot on twelve daisies.\" We are also told that when many hawthorn\nblossoms are seen a severe winter will follow; and, according to\nWilsford, \"the broom having plenty of blossoms is a sign of a fruitful\nyear of corn.\" A Surrey proverb tells us that \"It's always cold when the\nblackthorn comes into flower;\" and there is the rhyme which reminds\nus that:--\n\n  \"If the oak is out before the ash,\n  'Twill be a summer of wet and splash;\n  But if the ash is before the oak,\n  'Twill be a summer of fire and smoke.\"\n\nThere are several versions of this piece of weather-lore, an old Kentish\none being \"Oak, smoke; ash, quash;\" and according to a version given in\nNotes and Queries (1st Series v. 71):--\n\n \"If the oak's before the ash, then you'll only get a splash,\n If the ash precedes the oak, then you may expect a soak.\"\n\nFrom the \"Shepherd's Calendar\" we learn that, \"If in the fall of the\nleaf in October many leaves wither on the boughs and hang there, it\nbetokens a frosty winter and much snow,\" with which may be compared a\nDevonshire saying:--\n\n  \"If good apples you would have\n  The leaves must go into the grave.\"\n\nOr, in other words, \"you must plant your trees in the fall of the leaf.\"\nAnd again, \"Apples, pears, hawthorn-quick, oak; set them at\nAll-hallow-tide and command them to prosper; set them at Candlemas and\nentreat them to grow.\"\n\nIn Germany,[4] too, there is a rhyme which may be thus translated:--\n\n  \"When the hawthorn bloom too early shows,\n  We shall have still many snows.\"\n\nIn the same way the fruit of trees and plants was regarded as a\nprognostication of the ensuing weather, and Wilsford tells us that\n\"great store of walnuts and almonds presage a plentiful year of corn,\nespecially filberts.\" The notion that an abundance of haws betokens a\nhard winter is still much credited, and has given rise to the familiar\nScotch proverb:--\n\n  \"Mony haws,\n  Mony snaws.\"\n\nAnother variation of the same adage in Kent is, \"A plum year, a dumb\nyear,\" and, \"Many nits, many pits,\" implying that the abundance of nuts\nin the autumn indicates the \"pits\" or graves of those who shall succumb\nto the hard and inclement weather of winter; but, on the other hand, \"A\ncherry year, a merry year.\" A further piece of weather-lore tells us:--\n\n  \"Many rains, many rowans;\n  Many rowans, many yawns,\"\n\nThe meaning being that an abundance of rowans--the fruit of the\nmountain-ash--denote a deficient harvest.\n\nAmong further sayings of this kind may be noticed one relating to the\nonion, which is thus:--\n\n  \"Onion's skin very thin,\n  Mild-winter's coming in;\n  Onion's skin thick and tough,\n  Coming winter cold and rough.\"\n\nAgain, many of our peasantry have long been accustomed to arrange their\nfarming pursuits from the indications given them by sundry trees and\nplants. Thus it is said--\n\n  \"When the sloe tree is as white as a sheet,\n  Sow your barley whether it be dry or wet.\"\n\nWith which may be compared another piece of weather-lore:--\n\n  \"When the oak puts on his gosling grey,\n  'Tis time to sow barley night or day.\"\n\nThe leafing of the elm has from time immemorial been made to regulate\nagricultural operations, and hence the old rule:--\n\n  \"When the elmen leaf is as big as a mouse's ear,\n  Then to sow barley never fear.\n  When the elmen leaf is as big as an ox's eye,\n  Then say I, 'Hie, boys, hie!'\"\n\nA Warwickshire variation is:--\n\n  \"When elm leaves are big as a shilling,\n  Plant kidney beans, if to plant 'em you're willing.\n  When elm leaves are as big as a penny,\n  You _must_ plant kidney beans if you mean to have any.\"\n\nBut if the grass grow in January, the husbandman is recommended to \"lock\nhis grain in the granary,\" while a further proverb informs us that:--\n\n  \"On Candlemas Day if the thorns hang a drop,\n  You are sure of a good pea crop.\"\n\nIn bygone times the appearance of the berries of the elder was held to\nindicate the proper season for sowing wheat:--\n\n  \"With purple fruit when elder branches bend,\n  And their high hues the hips and cornels lend,\n  Ere yet chill hoar-frost comes, or sleety rain,\n  Sow with choice wheat the neatly furrowed plain.\"\n\nThe elder is not without its teaching, and according to a popular old\nproverb:--\n\n  \"When the elder is white, brew and bake a peck,\n  When the elder is black, brew and bake a sack.\"\n\nAccording to an old proverb, \"You must look for grass on the top of the\noak tree,\" the meaning being, says Ray, that \"the grass seldom springs\nwell before the oak begins to put forth.\"\n\nIn the Western Counties it is asserted that frost ceases as soon as the\nmulberry tree bursts into leaf, with which may be compared the words of\nAutolycus in the \"Winter's Tale\" (iv. 3):--\n\n  \"When daffodils begin to peer,\n  With heigh! the doxy over the dale,\n  Why, then conies in the sweet o' the year.\"\n\nThe dairyman is recommended in autumn to notice the appearance of the\nfern, because:--\n\n  \"When the fern is as high as a ladle,\n  You may sleep as long as you are able.\n  When the fern begins to look red,\n  Then milk is good with brown bread.\"\n\nFormerly certain agricultural operations were regulated by the seasons,\nand an old rule tells the farmer--\n\n   \"Upon St. David's Day, put oats and barley in the clay.\"\n\nAnother version being:--\n\n  \"Sow peas and beans on David and Chad,\n  Be the weather good or bad.\"\n\nA Somersetshire piece of agricultural lore fixes an earlier date, and\nbids the farmer to \"sow or set beans in Candlemas waddle.\" In connection\nwith the inclement weather that often prevails throughout the spring\nmonths it is commonly said, \"They that go to their corn in May may come\nweeping away,\" but \"They that go in June may come back with a merry\ntune.\" Then there is the following familiar pretty couplet, of which\nthere are several versions:--\n\n  \"The bee doth love the sweetest flower,\n  So doth the blossom the April shower.\"\n\nIn connection with beans, there is a well-known adage\nwhich says:--\n\n  \"Be it weal or be it woe,\n  Beans should blow before May go.\"\n\nOf the numerous other items of plant weather-lore, it is said that\n\"March wind wakes the ether (_i. e_., adder) and blooms the whin;\" and\nmany of our peasantry maintain that:--\n\n \"A peck of March dust and a shower in May,\n Makes the corn green and the fields gay.\"\n\nIt should also be noted that many plants are considered good barometers.\nChickweed, for instance, expands its leaves fully when fine weather is\nto follow; but \"if it should shut up, then the traveller is to put on\nhis greatcoat.\"[5] The same, too, is said to be the case with the\npimpernel, convolvulus, and clover; while if the marigold does not open\nits petals by seven o'clock in the morning, either rain or thunder may\nbe expected in the course of the day. According to Wilsford, \"tezils, or\nfuller's thistle, being gathered and hanged up in the house, where the\nair may come freely to it, upon the alteration of cold and windy weather\nwill grow smoother, and against rain will close up its prickles.\" Once\nmore, according to the \"Shepherd's Calendar,\" \"Chaff, leaves,\nthistle-down, or such light things whisking about and turning round\nforeshows tempestuous winds;\" And Coles, in his introduction to the\n\"Knowledge of Plants,\" informs us that, \"If the down flieth off\ncolt's-foot, dandelion, and thistles when there is no wind, it is a sign\nof rain.\"\n\nSome plants, again, have gained a notoriety from opening or shutting\ntheir flowers at the sun's bidding; in allusion to which Perdita remarks\nin the \"Winter's Tale\" (iv. 3):--\n\n  \"The marigold, that goes to bed with the sun, and with him\n  rises weeping.\"\n\nIt was also erroneously said, like the sun-flower, to\nturn its blossoms to the sun, the latter being thus\ndescribed by Thomson:--\n\n  \"The lofty follower of the sun,\n  Sad when he sets, shuts up her yellow leaves,\n  Drooping all night, and, when he warm returns,\n  Points her enamour'd bosom to his ray.\"\n\nAnother plant of this kind is the endive, which is said to open its\npetals at eight o'clock in the morning, and to close them at four in the\nafternoon. Thus we are told how:--\n\n  \"On upland slopes the shepherds mark\n    The hour when, to the dial true,\n  Cichorium to the towering lark,\n    Lifts her soft eye, serenely blue.\"\n\nAnd as another floral index of the time of day may be noticed the\ngoat's-beard, opening at sunrise and closing at noon--hence one of its\npopular names of \"Go to bed at noon.\" This peculiarity is described by\nBishop Mant:--\n\n  \"And goodly now the noon-tide hour,\n  When from his high meridian tower\n  The sun looks down in majesty,\n  What time about, the grassy lea.\n  The goat's-beard, prompt his rise to hail,\n  With broad expanded disk, in veil\n  Close mantling wraps its yellow head,\n  And goes, as peasants say, to bed.\"\n\nThe dandelion has been nicknamed the peasant's clock, its flowers\nopening very early in the morning; while its feathery seed-tufts have\nlong been in requisition as a barometer with children:--\n\n  \"Dandelion, with globe of down,\n  The schoolboy's clock in every town,\n  Which the truant puffs amain\n  To conjure lost hours back again.\"\n\nAmong other flowers possessing a similar feature may be noticed the wild\nsuccory, creeping mallow, purple sandwort, small bindweed, common\nnipplewort, and smooth sow-thistle. Then of course there is the\npimpernel, known as the shepherd's clock and poor man's weather-glass;\nwhile the small purslane and the common garden lettuce are also included\nin the flower-clock.[6]\n\nAmong further items of weather-lore associated with May, we are told how\nhe that \"sows oats in May gets little that way,\" and \"He who mows in May\nwill have neither fruit nor hay.\" Calm weather in June \"sets corn in\ntune;\" and a Suffolk adage says:--\n\n  \"Cut your thistles before St. John,\n  You will have two instead of one.\"\n\nBut \"Midsummer rain spoils hay and grain,\" whereas it is commonly said\nthat,\n\n  \"A leafy May, and a warm June,\n  Bring on the harvest very soon.\"\n\nAgain, boisterous wet weather during the month of July is to be\ndeprecated, for, as the old adage runs:--\n\n  \"No tempest, good July,\n  Lest the corn look surly.\"\n\nFlowers of this kind are very numerous, and under a variety of forms\nprevail largely in our own and other countries, an interesting\ncollection of which have been collected by Mr. Swainson in his\ninteresting little volume on \"Weather Folk-lore,\" in which he has given\nthe parallels in foreign countries. It must be remembered, however, that\na great number of these plant-sayings originated very many years\nago--long before the alteration in the style of the calendar--which in\nnumerous instances will account for their apparent contradictory\ncharacter. In noticing, too, these proverbs, account must be taken of\nthe variation of climate in different countries, for what applies to one\nlocality does not to another. Thus, for instance, according to a Basque\nproverb, \"A wet May, a fruitful year,\" whereas it is said in Corsica,\n\"A rainy May brings little barley and no wheat.\" Instances of this kind\nare of frequent occurrence, and of course are in many cases explained by\nthe difference of climate. But in comparing all branches of folk-lore,\nsimilar variations, as we have already observed, are noticeable, to\naccount for which is often a task full of difficulty.\n\nOf the numerous other instances of weather-lore associated with\nagricultural operations, it is said in relation to rain:--\n\n  \"Sow beans in the mud, and they'll grow like wood.\"\n\nAnd a saying in East Anglia is to this effect:--\n\n  \"Sow in the slop (or sop), heavy at top.\"\n\nA further admonition advises the farmer to\n\n  \"Sow wheat in dirt, and rye in dust;\"\n\nWhile, according to a piece of folk-lore current in East Anglia, \"Wheat\nwell-sown is half-grown.\" The Scotch have a proverb warning the farmer\nagainst premature sowing:--\n\n  \"Nae hurry wi' your corns,\n    Nae hurry wi' your harrows;\n  Snaw lies ahint the dyke,\n    Mair may come and fill the furrows.\"\n\nAnd according to another old adage we are told how:--\n\n  \"When the aspen leaves are no bigger than your nail,\n  Is the time to look out for truff and peel.\"[7]\n\nIn short, it will be found that most of our counties have their items of\nweather-lore; many of which, whilst varying in some respect, are\nevidently modifications of one and the same belief. In many cases, too,\nit must be admitted that this species of weather-wisdom is not based\naltogether on idle fancy, but in accordance with recognised habits of\nplants under certain conditions of weather. Indeed, it has been pointed\nout that so sensitive are various flowers to any change in the\ntemperature or the amount of light, that it has been noticed that there\nis as much as one hour's difference between the time when the same\nflower opens at Paris and Upsala. It is, too, a familiar fact to\nstudents of vegetable physiology that the leaves of _Porleria\nhygrometrica_ fold down or rise up in accordance with the state of the\natmosphere. In short, it was pointed out in the _Standard_, in\nillustration of the extreme sensitiveness of certain plants to\nsurrounding influences, how the _Haedysarums_ have been well known ever\nsince the days of Linnseus to suddenly begin to quiver without any\napparent cause, and just as suddenly to stop. Force cannot initiate the\nmovement, though cold will stop it, and heat will set in motion again\nthe suspended animation of the leaves. If artificially kept from moving\nthey will, when released, instantly begin their task anew and with\nredoubled energy. Similarly the leaves of the _Colocasia esculenta_--the\ntara of the Sandwich Islands--will often shiver at irregular times of\nthe day and night, and with such energy that little bells hung on the\npetals tinkle. And yet, curious to say, we are told that the keenest eye\nhas not yet been able to detect any peculiarity in these plants to\naccount for these strange motions. It has been suggested that they are\ndue to changes in the weather of such a slight character that, \"our\nnerves are incapable of appreciating them, or the mercury of recording\ntheir accompanying oscillations.\"\n\n\n\nFootnotes:\n\n\n1. Tylor's \"Primitive Culture,\" 1873, i. 130.\n\n2. See \"English Folk-lore,\" pp. 42, 43.\n\n3. \"Primitive Manners and Customs,\" p. 74.\n\n4. Dublin University Magazine, December 1873, p. 677.\n\n5. See Swainson's \"Weather-lore,\" p. 257.\n\n6. See \"Flower-lore,\" p. 226.\n\n7. See _Notes and Queries_, 1st Ser. II. 511.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nPLANT PROVERBS.\n\n\nA host of curious proverbs have, from the earliest period, clustered\nround the vegetable world, most of which--gathered from experience and\nobservation--embody an immense amount of truth, besides in numerous\ninstances conveying an application of a moral nature. These proverbs,\ntoo, have a very wide range, and on this account are all the more\ninteresting from the very fact of their referring to so many conditions\nof life. Thus, the familiar adage which tells us that \"nobody is fond of\nfading flowers,\" has a far deeper signification, reminding us that\neverything associated with change and decay must always be a matter of\nregret. To take another trite proverb of the same kind, we are told how\n\"truths and roses have thorns about them,\" which is absolutely true; and\nthere is the well-known expression \"to pipe in an ivy leaf,\" which\nsignifies \"to go and engage in some futile or idle pursuit\" which cannot\nbe productive of any good. The common proverb, \"He hath sown his wild\noats,\" needs no comment; and the inclination of evil to override good is\nembodied in various adages, such, as, \"The weeds o'ergrow the corn,\"\nwhile the tenacity with which evil holds its ground is further expressed\nin such sayings as this--\"The frost hurts not weeds.\" The poisonous\neffects, again, of evil is exemplified thus--\"One ill-bred mars a whole\npot of pottage,\" and the rapidity with which it spreads has, amongst\nother proverbs, been thus described, \"Evil weeds grow apace.\" Speaking\nof weeds in their metaphorical sense, we may quote one further adage\nrespecting them:--\n\n  \"A weed that runs to seed\n  Is a seven years' weed.\"\n\nAnd the oft-quoted phrase, \"It will be a nosegay to him as long as he\nlives,\" implies that disagreeable actions, instead of being lost sight\nof, only too frequently cling to a man in after years, or, as Ray says,\n\"stink in his nostrils.\" The man who abandons some good enterprise for a\nworthless, or insignificant, undertaking is said to \"cut down an oak and\nplant a thistle,\" of which there is a further version, \"to cut down an\noak and set up a strawberry.\" The truth of the next adage needs no\ncomment--\"Usurers live by the fall of heirs, as swine by the droppings\nof acorns.\"\n\nThings that are slow but sure in their progress are the subject of a\nwell-known Gloucestershire saying:--\n\n  \"It is as long in coming as Cotswold barley.\"\n\n\"The corn in this cold country,\" writes Ray, \"exposed to the winds,\nbleak and shelterless, is very backward at the first, but afterwards\novertakes the forwardest in the country, if not in the barn, in the\nbushel, both for the quantity and goodness thereof.\" According to the\nItalians, \"Every grain hath its bran,\" which corresponds with our\nsaying, \"Every bean hath its black,\" The meaning being that nothing is\nwithout certain imperfections. A person in extreme poverty is often\ndescribed as being \"as bare as the birch at Yule Even,\" and an\nill-natured or evil-disposed person who tries to do harm, but cannot, is\ncommonly said to:--\n\n  \"Jump at it like a cock at a gooseberry.\"\n\nThen the idea of durableness is thus expressed in a Wiltshire proverb:--\n\n  \"An eldern stake and a blackthorn ether [hedge],\n  Will make a hedge to last for ever\"--\n\nan elder stake being commonly said to last in the ground longer than an\niron bar of the same size.[1]\n\nA person who is always on the alert to make use of opportunities, and\nnever allows a good thing to escape his grasp, is said to \"have a ready\nmouth for a ripe cherry.\" The rich beauty, too, of the cherry, which\ncauses it to be gathered, has had this moral application attached\nto it:--\n\n  \"A woman and a cherry are painted for their own harm.\"\n\nSpeaking of cherries, it may be mentioned that the awkwardness of eating\nthem on account of their stones, has given rise to sundry proverbs, as\nthe following:--\n\n \"Eat peas with the king, and cherries with the beggar,\"\n\nand:--\n\n  \"Those that eat cherries with great persons shall have their eyes\n  squirted out with the stones.\"\n\nA man who makes a great show without a corresponding practice is said to\nbe like \"fig-tree fuel, much smoke and little fire,\" and another\nadage says:--\n\n \"Peel a fig for your friend, and a peach for your enemy.\"\n\nThis proverb, however, is not quite clear when applied to this country.\n\"To peel a fig, so far as we are concerned,\" writes Mr. Hazlitt[2], \"can\nhave no significance, except that we should not regard it as a friendly\nservice; but, in fact, the proverb is merely a translation from the\nSpanish, and in that language and country the phrase carries a very full\nmeaning, as no one would probably like to eat a fig without being sure\nthat the fruit had not been tampered with. The whole saying is, however,\nrather unintelligible. 'Peeling a peach' would be treated anywhere as a\ndubious attention.\"\n\nOf the many proverbs connected with thorns, there is the true one which\ntells us how,\n\n  \"He that goes barefoot must not plant thorns,\"\n\nThe meaning of which is self-evident, and the person who lives in a\nchronic state of uneasiness is said to, \"sit on thorns.\" Then there is\nthe oft-quoted adage:--\n\n  \"While thy shoe is on thy foot, tread upon the thorns.\"\n\nOn the other hand, that no position in life is exempt from trouble of\nsome kind is embodied in this proverb:--\n\n  \"Wherever a man dwells he shall be sure to have a thorn bush\n  near his door,\"\n\nwhich Ray also explains in its literal sense, remarking that there \"are\nfew places in England where a man can dwell, but he shall have one near\nhim.\" Then, again, thorns are commonly said to \"make the greatest\ncrackling,\" and \"the thorn comes forth with its point forward.\"\n\nMany a great man has wished himself poor and obscure in his hours of\nadversity, a sentiment contained in the following proverb:--\n\n  \"The pine wishes herself a shrub when the axe is at her root.\"\n\nA quaint phrase applied to those who expect events to take an unnatural\nturn is:--\n\n \"Would you have potatoes grow by the pot-side?\"\n\nAmongst some of the other numerous proverbs may be mentioned a few\nrelating to the apple; one of these reminding us that,\n\n  \"An apple, an egg, and a nut,\n  You may eat after a slut.\"\n\nSelfishness in giving is thus expressed:--\n\n  \"To give an apple where there is an orchard.\"\n\nAnd the idea of worthlessness is often referred to as when it is said\nthat \"There is small choice in rotten apples,\" with which may be\ncompared another which warns us of the contagious effects of bad\ninfluence:--\n\n  \"The rotten apple injures its neighbour.\"\n\nThe utter dissimilarity which often exists between two persons, or\nthings, is jocularly enjoined in the familiar adage:--\n\n  \"As like as an apple is to a lobster,\"\n\nAnd the folly of taking what one knows is paltry or bad has given rise\nto an instructive proverb:--\n\n  \"Better give an apple than eat it.\"\n\nThe folly of expecting good results from the most unreasonable causes is\nthe subject of the following old adage:--\n\n  \"Plant the crab where you will, it will never bear pippins.\"\n\nThe crab tree has also been made the subject of several\namusing rhymes, one of which is as follows:--\n\n  \"The crab of the wood is sauce very good for the crab of the\n    sea,\n  But the wood of the crab is sauce for a drab that will not her\n    husband obey.\"\n\nThe coolness of the cucumber has long ago become proverbial for a person\nof a cold collected nature, \"As cool as a cucumber,\" and the man who not\nonly makes unreasonable requests, but equally expects them to be\ngratified, is said to \"ask an elm-tree for pears.\" Then, again, foolish\npersons who have no power of observation, are likened to \"a blind goose\nthat knows not a fox from a fern bush.\"\n\nThe willow has long been a proverbial symbol of sadness, and on this\naccount it was customary for those who were forsaken in love to wear a\ngarland made of willow. Thus in \"Othello,\" Desdemona (Act iv. sc. 3)\nanticipating her death, says:--\n\n  \"My mother had a maid called Barbara:\n  She was in love; and he she loved proved mad,\n  And did forsake her: she had a song of willow;\n  An old thing 'twas, but it expressed her fortune,\n  And she died singing it: that song to-night\n  Will not go from my mind.\"\n\nAccording to another adage:--\n\n  \"Willows are weak, yet they bind other wood,\"\n\nThe significance of which is clear. Then, again, there is the not very\ncomplimentary proverbial saying, of which there are several versions:--\n\n  \"A spaniel, a woman, and a walnut-tree,\n  The more they're beaten, the better they be.\"\n\nAnother variation, given by Moor in his \"Suffolk Words\" (p. 465), is\nthis:--\n\n  \"Three things by beating better prove:\n    A nut, an ass, a woman;\n  The cudgel from their back remove,\n    And they'll be good for no man.\"\n\nA curious phrase current in Devonshire for a young lady who jilts a man\nis, \"She has given him turnips;\" and an expressive one for those persons\nwho in spite of every kindness are the very reverse themselves\nis this:--\n\n  \"Though you stroke the nettle\n  ever so kindly, yet it will sting you;\"\n\nWith which may be compared a similar proverb equally suggestive:--\n\n  \"He that handles a nettle tenderly is soonest stung.\"\n\nThe ultimate effects of perseverance, coupled with time, is thus\nshown:--\n\n  \"With time and patience the leaf of the mulberry tree\n  becomes satin.\"\n\nA phrase current, according to Ray, in Gloucestershire for those \"who\nalways have a sad, severe, and terrific countenance,\" is, \"He looks as\nif he lived on Tewkesbury mustard\"--this town having been long noted for\nits \"mustard-balls made there, and sent to other parts.\" It may be\nremembered that in \"2 Henry IV.\" (Act ii. sc. 4) Falstaff speaks of \"wit\nas thick as Tewkesbury mustard.\" Then there is the familiar adage\napplied to the man who lacks steady application, \"A rolling stone\ngathers no moss,\" with which may be compared another, \"Seldom mosseth\nthe marble-stone that men [tread] oft upon.\"\n\nAmong the good old proverbs associated with flax may be mentioned the\nfollowing, which enjoins the necessity of faith in our actions:--\n\n  \"Get thy spindle and thy distaff ready, and God will send the flax.\"\n\nA popular phrase speaks of \"An owl in an ivy-bush,\" which perhaps was\noriginally meant to denote the union of wisdom with conviviality,\nequivalent to \"Be merry and wise.\" Formerly an ivy-bush was a common\ntavern sign, and gave rise to the familiar proverb, \"Good wine needs no\nbush,\" this plant having been selected probably from having been sacred\nto Bacchus.\n\nAccording to an old proverb respecting the camomile, we are told that\n\"the more it is trodden the more it will spread,\" an allusion to which\nis made by Falstaff in \"I Henry IV.\" (Act ii. sc. 4):--\n\n  \"For though the camomile, the more it is trodden on, the faster it\n  grows; yet youth, the more it is wasted, the sooner it wears.\"\n\nThere are many proverbs associated with the oak. Referring to its\ngrowth, we are told that \"The willow will buy a horse before the oak\nwill pay for a saddle,\" the allusion being, of course, to the different\nrates at which trees grow. That occasionally some trifling event may\nhave the most momentous issues is thus exemplified:--\n\n  \"The smallest axe may fell the largest oak;\"\n\nAlthough, on the other hand, it is said that:--\n\n  \"An oak is not felled at one chop.\"\n\nA further variation of the same idea tells us how:--\n\n \"Little strokes fell great oaks,\"\n\nIn connection with which may be quoted the words of Ovid to the same\neffect:--\n\n  \"Quid magis est durum saxo? Quid mollius unda?\n  Dura taneu molli saxa cavantur aqua?\"\n\nThen, again, it is commonly said that:--\n\n  \"Oaks may fall when seeds brave the storm.\"\n\nAnd to give one more illustration:--\n\n  \"The greatest oaks have been little acorns.\"\n\nSimilarly, with trees in general, we find a good number of proverbs.\nThus one informs us that \"Wise men in the world are like timber trees in\na hedge, here and there one.\" That there is some good in every one is\nillustrated by this saying--\"There's no tree but bears some fruit.\" The\nfamiliar proverb, that \"The tree is no sooner down but every one runs\nfor his hatchet,\" explains itself, whereas \"The highest tree hath the\ngreater fall,\" which, in its moral application, is equally true. Again,\nan agricultural precept enjoins the farmer to \"Set trees poor and they\nwill grow rich; set them rich and they will grow poor,\" that is, remove\nthem out of a more barren into a fatter soil. That success can only be\ngained by toil is illustrated in this proverb--\"He that would have the\nfruit must climb the tree,\" and once more it is said that \"He who plants\ntrees loves others beside himself.\"\n\nIn the Midland counties there is a proverbial saying that \"if there are\nno kegs or seeds in the ash trees, there will be no king within the\ntwelvemonth,\" the ash never being wholly destitute of kegs. Another\nproverb refers to the use of ash-wood for burning:--\n\n  \"Burn ash-wood green,\n  'Tis a fire for a queen,\n  Burn ash-wood dear,\n  'Twill make a man swear;\"\n\nThe meaning being that the ash when green burns well, but when dry or\nwithered just the reverse.\n\nA form of well-wishing formerly current in Yorkshire was thus:--\n\n  \"May your footfall be by the root of an ash,\"\n\nIn allusion, it has been suggested, to the fact that the ash is a\ncapital tree for draining the soil in its vicinity.\n\nBut leaving trees, an immense number of proverbs are associated with\ncorn, many of which are very varied. Thus, of those who contrive to get\na good return for their meagre work or money, it is said:--\n\n  \"You have made a long harvest for a little corn,\"\n\nWith which may be compared the phrase:--\n\n  \"You give me coloquintida (colocynth) for Herb-John.\"\n\nThose who reap advantage from another man's labour are said to \"put\ntheir sickle into another man's corn,\" and the various surroundings of\nroyalty, however insignificant they may be, are generally better, says\nthe proverb, than the best thing of the subjects:--\n\n  \"The king's chaff is better than other people's corn.\"\n\nAmong the proverbs relating to grass may be mentioned the popular one,\n\"He does not let the grass grow under his feet;\" another old version of\nwhich is, \"No grass grows on his heel.\" Another well-known adage\nreminds us that:--\n\n  \"The higher the hill the lower the grass.\"\n\nAnd equally familiar is the following:--\n\n  \"While the grass groweth the seely horse starveth.\"\n\nIn connection with hops, the proverb runs that \"hops make or break;\" and\nno hop-grower, writes,\n\nMr. Hazlitt,[3] \"will have much difficulty in appreciating this\nproverbial dictum. An estate has been lost or won in the course of a\nsingle season; but the hop is an expensive plant to rear, and a bad\nyear may spoil the entire crop.\"\n\nActions which produce different results to what are\nexpected are thus spoken of:--\n\n  \"You set saffron and there came up wolfsbane.\"\n\nIn Devonshire it may be noted that this plant is used to denote anything\nof value; and it is related of a farmer near Exeter who, when praising a\ncertain farm, remarked, \"'Tis a very pretty little place; he'd let so\ndear as saffron.\"\n\nMany, again, are the proverbial sayings associated with roses--most of\nthese being employed to indicate what is not only sweet and lovely, but\nbright and joyous. Thus, there are the well-known phrases, \"A bed of\nroses,\" and \"As sweet as a rose,\" and the oft-quoted popular adage:--\n\n  \"The rose, called by any other name, would smell as sweet,\"\n\nWhich, as Mr. Hazlitt remarks, \"although not originally proverbial, or\nin its nature, or even in the poet's intention so, has acquired that\ncharacter by long custom.\"\n\nAn old adage, which is still credited by certain of our country folk,\nreminds us that:--\n\n  \"A parsley field will bring a man to his saddle and a woman to\n  her grave,\"\n\nA warning which is not unlike one current in Surrey and other southern\ncounties:--\n\n  \"Where parsley's grown in the garden, there'll be a death before\n  the year's out.\"\n\nIn Devonshire it has long been held unlucky to transplant parsley, and a\npoor woman in the neighbourhood of Morwenstow attributed a certain\nstroke with which one of her children had been afflicted after\nwhooping-cough to the unfortunate undoing of the parsley bed. In the\n\"Folk-lore Record,\" too, an amusing instance is related of a gardener at\nSouthampton, who, for the same reason, refused to sow some parsley seed.\nIt may be noted that from a very early period the same antipathy has\nexisted in regard to this plant, and it is recorded how a few mules\nladen with parsley threw into a complete panic a Greek force on its\nmarch against the enemy. But the plant no doubt acquired its ominous\nsignificance from its having been largely used to bestrew the tombs of\nthe dead; the Greek term \"dehisthai selinou\"--to be in need of\nparsley--was a common phrase employed to denote those on the point of\ndeath. There are various other superstitions attached to this plant, as\nin Hampshire, where the peasants dislike giving any away for fear of\nsome ill-luck befalling them. Similarly, according to another proverb:--\n\n  \"Sowing fennel is sowing sorrow.\"\n\nBut why this should be so it is difficult to explain, considering that\nby the ancients fennel was used for the victor's wreath, and, as one of\nthe plants dedicated to St. John, it has long been placed over doors on\nhis vigil. On the other hand, there is a common saying with respect to\nrosemary, which was once much cultivated in kitchen gardens:--\n\n  \"Where rosemary flourishes the lady rules.\"\n\nVetches, from being reputed a most hardy grain, have been embodied in\nthe following adage:--\n\n  \"A thetch will go through\n  The bottom of an old shoe,\"\n\nWhich reminds us of the proverbial saying:--\n\n  \"Like a camomile bed,\n  The more it is trodden\n  The more it will spread.\"\n\nThe common expression:--\n\n  \"Worth a plum,\"\n\nIs generally said of a man who is accredited with large means, and\nanother adage tells us that,\n\n  \"The higher the plum-tree, the riper the plum.\"\n\nTo live in luxury and affluence is expressed by the proverbial phrase\n\"To live in clover,\" with which may be compared the saying \"Do it up in\nlavender,\" applied to anything which is valuable and precious. A further\nsimilar phrase is \"Laid up in lavender,\" in allusion to the\nold-fashioned custom of scenting newly-washed linen with this fragrant\nplant. Thus Shenstone says:--\n\n  \"Lavender, whose spikes of azure bloom\n  Shall be, erewhile, in arid bundles bound,\n\n  To lurk amidst the labours of her loom,\n  And crown her kerchiefs clean with micklc rare perfume.\"\n\nAccording to Gerarde, the Spartans were in the habit of eating cress\nwith their bread, from a popular notion very generally held among the\nancients, that those who ate it became noted for their wit and decision\nof character. Hence the old proverb:--\n\n  \"Eat cress to learn more wit.\"\n\nOf fruit proverbs we are told that,\n\n  \"If you would enjoy the fruit, pluck not the flower.\"\n\nAnd again:--\n\n  \"When all fruit fails, welcome haws.\"\n\nAnd \"If you would have fruit, you must carry the leaf to the grave;\"\nwhich Ray explains, \"You must transplant your trees just about the fall\nof the leaf,\" and then there is the much-quoted rhyme:--\n\n  \"Fruit out of season,\n  Sorrow out of reason.\"\n\nRespecting the vine, it is said:--\n\n  \"Make the vine poor, and it will make you rich,\"\n\nThat is, prune off its branches; and another adage is to this effect:\n\"Short boughs, long vintage.\" The constant blooming of the gorse has\ngiven rise to a popular Northamptonshire proverb:--\n\n  \"When gorse is out of bloom, kissing is out of season.\"\n\nThe health-giving properties of various plants have long been in the\nhighest repute, and have given rise to numerous well-known proverbs,\nwhich are still heard in many a home. Thus old Gerarde, describing the\nvirtues of the mallow, tells us:--\n\n  \"If that of health you have any special care,\n  Use French mallows, that to the body wholesome are.\"\n\nThen there is the time-honoured adage which says that:--\n\n  \"He that would live for aye\n  Must eat sage in May.\"\n\nAnd Aubrey has bequeathed us the following piece of advice:--\n\n  \"Eat leeks in Lide, and ramsines in May,\n  And all the year after physicians may play.\"\n\nThere are many sayings of this kind still current among our\ncountry-folk, some of which no doubt contain good advice; and of the\nplaintain, which from time immemorial has been used as a vulnerary,\nit is said:--\n\n  \"Plantain ribbed, that heals the reaper's wounds.\"\n\nIn Herefordshire there is a popular rhyme associated with the aul\n(_Alnus glutinosus_):--\n\n  \"When the bud of the aul is as big as the trout's eye,\n  Then that fish is in season in the river Wye.\"\n\nA Yorkshire name for the quaking grass (_Briza media_) is \"trembling\njockies,\" and according to a local proverb:--\n\n  \"A trimmling jock i' t' house,\n  An' you weeant hev a mouse,\"\n\nThis plant being, it is said, obnoxious to mice. According to a\nWarwickshire proverb:--\n\n  \"Plant your sage and rue together,\n  The sage will grow in any weather.\"\n\nThis list of plant proverbs might easily be extended, but the\nillustrations quoted in the preceding pages are a fair sample of this\nportion of our subject. Whereas many are based on truth, others are more\nor less meaningless. At any rate, they still thrive to a large extent\namong our rural community, by whom they are regarded as so many\nhousehold sayings.\n\n\n\nFootnotes:\n\n\n1. See Akerman's \"Wiltshire Glossary,\" p. 18.\n\n2. \"English Proverbs and Proverbial Phrases,\" pp. 327-8.\n\n3. \"Proverbs and Proverbial Phrases,\" p. 207.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nPLANTS AND THEIR CEREMONIAL USE.\n\n\nIn the earliest period of primitive society flowers seem to have been\nlargely used for ceremonial purposes. Tracing their history downwards up\nto the present day, we find how extensively, throughout the world, they\nhave entered into sacred and other rites. This is not surprising when we\nremember how universal have been the love and admiration for these\nchoice and lovely productions of nature's handiwork. From being used as\nofferings in the old heathen worship they acquired an additional\nveneration, and became associated with customs which had important\nsignificance. Hence the great quantity of flowers required, for\nceremonial purposes of various kinds, no doubt promoted and encouraged a\ntaste for horticulture even among uncultured tribes. Thus the Mexicans\nhad their famous floating gardens, and in the numerous records handed\ndown of social life, as it existed in different countries, there is no\nlack of references to the habits and peculiarities of the\nvegetable world.\n\nAgain, from all parts of the world, the histories of bygone centuries\nhave contributed their accounts of the rich assortment of flowers in\ndemand for the worship of the gods, which are valuable as indicating how\nelaborate and extensive was the knowledge of plants in primitive\nperiods, and how magnificent must have been the display of these\nbeautiful and brilliant offerings. Amongst some tribes, too, so sacred\nwere the flowers used in religious rites held, that it was forbidden so\nmuch as to smell them, much less to handle them, except by those whose\nprivileged duty it was to arrange them for the altar. Coming down to the\nhistoric days of Greece and Rome, we have abundant details of the skill\nand care that were displayed in procuring for religious purposes the\nfinest and choicest varieties of flowers; abundant allusions to which\nare found in the old classic writings.\n\nThe profuseness with which flowers were used in Rome during triumphal\nprocessions has long ago become proverbial, in allusion to which\nMacaulay says:--\n\n  \"On they ride to the Forum,\n    While laurel boughs, and flowers,\n  From house-tops and from windows,\n    Fell on their crests in showers.\"\n\nFlowers, in fact, were in demand on every conceivable occasion, a custom\nwhich was frequently productive of costly extravagance. Then there was\ntheir festival of the Floralia, in honour of the reappearance of\nspring-time, with its hosts of bright blossoms, a survival of which has\nlong been kept up in this country on May Day, when garlands and carols\nform the chief feature of the rustic merry-making. Another grand\nceremonial occasion, when flowers were specially in request, was the\nFontinalia, an important day in Rome, for the wells and fountains were\ncrowned with flowers:--\n\n \"Fontinalia festus erat dies Romae, quo in fontes\n coronas projiciebant, puteosque coronabant, ut a quibus pellucidos\n liquores at restinguendam sitim acciperent, iisdem gratiam referre hoc\n situ viderentur.\"\n\nA pretty survival of this festival has long been observed in the\nwell-dressing of Tissington on Ascension Day, when the wells are most\nbeautifully decorated with leaves and flowers, arranged in fanciful\ndevices, interwoven into certain symbols and texts. This floral rite is\nthus described in \"The Fleece\":--\n\n  \"With light fantastic toe, the nymphs\n  Thither assembled, thither every swain;\n  And o'er the dimpled stream a thousand flowers,\n  Pale lilies, roses, violets and pinks,\n  Mix'd with the greens of bouret, mint, and thyme,\n  And trefoil, sprinkled with their sportive arms,\n  Such custom holds along th' irriguous vales,\n  From Wreken's brow to rocky Dolvoryn,\n  Sabrina's early haunt.\"\n\nWith this usage may be compared one performed by the fishermen of\nWeymouth, who on the first of May put out to sea for the purpose of\nscattering garlands of flowers on the waves, as a propitiatory offering\nto obtain food for the hungry. \"This link,\" according to Miss Lambert,\n\"is but another link in the chain that connects us with the yet more\nprimitive practice of the Red Indian, who secures passage across the\nLake Superior, or down the Mississippi, by gifts of precious tobacco,\nwhich he wafts to the great spirit of the Flood on the bosom of its\nwaters.\"\n\nBy the Romans a peculiar reverence seems to have attached to their\nfestive garlands, which were considered unsuitable for wearing in\npublic. Hence, any person appearing in one was liable to punishment, a\nlaw which was carried out with much rigour. On one occasion, Lucius\nFulvius, a banker, having been convicted at the time of the second Punic\nwar, of looking down from the balcony of a house with a chaplet of roses\non his head, was thrown into prison by order of the Senate, and here\nkept for sixteen years, until the close of the war. A further case of\nextreme severity was that of P. Munatius, who was condemned by the\nTriumviri to be put in chains for having crowned himself with flowers\nfrom the statue of Marsyas.\n\nAllusions to such estimation of garlands in olden times are numerous in\nthe literature of the past, and it may be remembered how Montesquieu\nremarked that it was with two or three hundred crowns of oak that Rome\nconquered the world.\n\nGuests at feasts wore garlands of flowers tied with the bark of the\nlinden tree, to prevent intoxication; the wreath having been framed in\naccordance with the position of the wearer. A poet, in his paraphrase on\nHorace, thus illustrates this custom:--\n\n  \"Nay, nay, my boy, 'tis not for me\n  This studious pomp of Eastern luxury;\n  Give me no various garlands fine\n    With linden twine;\n  Nor seek where latest lingering blows\n    The solitary rose.\"\n\nNot only were the guests adorned with flowers, but the waiters,\ndrinking-cups, and room, were all profusely decorated.[1] \"In short,\" as\nthe author of \"Flower-lore\" remarks, \"it would be difficult to name the\noccasions on which flowers were not employed; and, as almost all plants\nemployed in making garlands had a symbolical meaning, the garland was\ncomposed in accordance with that meaning.\" Garlands, too, were thrown to\nactors on the stage, a custom which has come down to the present day in\nan exaggerated form.\n\nIndeed, many of the flowers in request nowadays for ceremonial uses in\nour own and other countries may be traced back to this period; the\nsymbolical meaning attached to certain plants having survived after the\nlapse of many centuries. For a careful description of the flowers thus\nemployed, we would refer the reader to two interesting papers\ncontributed by Miss Lambert to the _Nineteenth Century_,[2] in which she\nhas collected together in a concise form all the principal items of\ninformation on the subject in past years. A casual perusal of these\npapers will suffice to show what a wonderful knowledge of botany the\nancients must have possessed; and it may be doubted whether the most\ncostly array of plants witnessed at any church festival supersedes a\nsimilar display witnessed by worshippers in the early heathen temples.\nIn the same way, we gain an insight into the profusion of flowers\nemployed by heathen communities in later centuries, showing how\nintimately associated these have been with their various forms of\nworship. Thus, the Singhalese seem to have used flowers to an almost\nincredible extent, and one of their old chronicles tells us how the\nRuanwell\u00e9 dagoba--270 feet high--was festooned with garlands from\npedestal to pinnacle, till it had the appearance of one uniform bouquet.\nWe are further told that in the fifteenth century a certain king offered\nno less than 6,480,320 sweet-smelling flowers at the shrine of the\ntooth; and, among the regulations of the temple at Dambedenia in the\nthirteenth century, one prescribes that \"every day an offering of\n100,000 blossoms, and each day a different kind of flower,\" should be\npresented. This is a striking instance, but only one of many.\n\n\"With regard to Greece, there are few of our trees and flowers,\" writes\nMr. Moncure Conway,[3] \"which were not cultivated in the gorgeous\ngardens of Epicurus, Pericles, and Pisistratus.\" Among the flowers\nchiefly used for garlands and chaplets in ceremonial rites we find the\nrose, violet, anemone, thyme, melilot, hyacinth, crocus, yellow lily,\nand yellow flowers generally. Thucydides relates how, in the ninth year\nof the Peloponnesian War, the temple of Juno at Argos was burnt down\nowing to the priestess Chrysis having set a lighted torch too near the\ngarlands and then fallen asleep. The garlands caught fire, and the\ndamage was irremediable before she was conscious of the mischief. The\ngigantic scale on which these floral ceremonies were conducted may be\ngathered from the fact that in the procession of Europa at Corinth a\nhuge crown of myrtle, thirty feet in circumference, was borne. At Athens\nthe myrtle was regarded as the symbol of authority, a wreath of its\nleaves having been worn by magistrates. On certain occasions the mitre\nof the Jewish high priest was adorned with a chaplet of the blossoms of\nthe henbane. Of the further use of garlands, we are told that the\nJapanese employ them very freely;[4] both men and women wearing chaplets\nof fragrant blossoms. A wreath of a fragrant kind of olive is the reward\nof literary merit in China. In Northern India the African marigold is\nheld as a sacred flower; they adorn the trident emblem of Mah\u00e1div\u00e1 with\ngarlands of it, and both men and women wear chaplets made of its flowers\non his festivals. Throughout Polynesia garlands have been habitually\nworn on seasons of \"religious solemnity or social rejoicing,\" and in\nTonga they were employed as a token of respect. In short, wreaths seem\nto have been from a primitive period adopted almost universally in\nceremonial rites, having found equal favour both with civilised as well\nas uncivilised communities. It will probably, too, always be so.\n\nFlowers have always held a prominent place in wedding ceremonies, and at\nthe present day are everywhere extensively used. Indeed, it would be no\neasy task to exhaust the list of flowers which have entered into the\nmarriage customs of different countries, not to mention the many bridal\nemblems of which they have been made symbolical. As far back as the time\nof Juno, we read, according to Homer's graphic account, how:--\n\n  \"Glad earth perceives, and from her bosom pours\n  Unbidden herbs and voluntary flowers:\n  Thick, new-born violets a soft carpet spread,\n  And clust'ring lotos swelled the rising bed;\n  And sudden hyacinths the earth bestrow,\n  And flamy crocus made the mountain glow.\"\n\nAccording to a very early custom the Grecian bride was required to eat a\nquince, and the hawthorn was the flower which formed her wreath, which\nat the present day is still worn at Greek nuptials, the altar being\ndecked with its blossoms. Among the Romans the hazel held a significant\nposition, torches having been burnt on the wedding evening to insure\nprosperity to the newly-married couple, and both in Greece and Rome\nyoung married couples were crowned with marjoram. At Roman weddings,\ntoo, oaken boughs were carried during the ceremony as symbols of\nfecundity; and the bridal wreath was of verbena, plucked by the bride\nherself. Holly wreaths were sent as tokens of congratulation, and\nwreaths of parsley and rue were given under a belief that they were\neffectual preservatives against evil spirits. In Germany, nowadays, a\nwreath of vervain is presented to the newly-married bride; a plant\nwhich, on account of its mystic virtues, was formerly much used for\nlove-philtres and charms. The bride herself wears a myrtle wreath, as\nalso does the Jewish maiden, but this wreath was never given either to a\nwidow or a divorced woman. Occasionally, too, it is customary in Germany\nto present the bride and bridegroom with an almond at the wedding\nbanquet, and in the nuptial ceremonies of the Czechs this plant is\ndistributed among the guests. In Switzerland so much importance was in\nyears past attached to flowers and their symbolical significance that,\n\"a very strict law was in force prohibiting brides from wearing chaplets\nor garlands in the church, or at any time during the wedding feast, if\nthey had previously in any way forfeited their rights to the privileges\nof maidenhood.\"[5] With the Swiss maiden the edelweiss is almost a\nsacred flower, being regarded as a proof of the devotion of her lover,\nby whom it is often gathered with much risk from growing in inaccessible\nspots. In Italy, as in days of old, nuts are scattered at the marriage\nfestival, and corn is in many cases thrown over the bridal couple, a\nsurvival of the old Roman custom of making offerings of corn to the\nbride. A similar usage prevails at an Indian wedding, where, \"after the\nfirst night, the mother of the husband, with all the female relatives,\ncomes to the young bride and places on her head a measure of\ncorn--emblem of fertility. The husband then comes forward and takes from\nhis bride's head some handfuls of the grain, which he scatters over\nhimself.\" As a further illustration we may quote the old Polish custom,\nwhich consisted of visitors throwing wheat, rye, oats, barley, rice, and\nbeans at the door of the bride's house, as a symbol that she never would\nwant any of these grains so long as she did her duty. In the Tyrol is a\nfine grove of pine-trees--the result of a long-established custom for\nevery newly united couple to plant a marriage tree, which is generally\nof the pine kind. Garlands of wild asparagus are used by the Boeotians,\nwhile with the Chinese the peach-blossom is the popular emblem of a\nbride.\n\nIn England, flowers have always been largely employed in the wedding\nceremony, although they have varied at different periods, influenced by\nthe caprice of fashion. Thus, it appears that flowers were once worn by\nthe betrothed as tokens of their engagement, and Quarles in his\n\"Sheapheard's Oracles,\" 1646, tells us how,\n\n                          \"Love-sick swains\n  Compose rush-rings and myrtle-berry chains,\n  And stuck with glorious kingcups, and their bonnets\n  Adorn'd with laurell slips, chaunt their love sonnets.\"\n\nSpenser, too, in his \"Shepherd's Calendar\" for April, speaks of\n\"Coronations and sops in wine worn of paramours\"--sops in wine having\nbeen a nickname for pinks (_Dianthus plumarius_), although Dr. Prior\nassigns the name to _Dianthus caryophyllus_. Similarly willow was worn\nby a discarded lover. In the bridal crown, the rosemary often had a\ndistinguished place, besides figuring at the ceremony itself, when it\nwas, it would seem, dipped in scented water, an allusion to which we\nfind in Beaumont and Fletcher's \"Scornful Lady,\" where it is asked,\n\"Were the rosemary branches dipped?\" Another flower which was entwined\nin the bridal garland was the lily, to which Ben Jonson refers in\nspeaking of the marriage of his friend Mr. Weston with the Lady\nFrances Stuart:--\n\n  \"See how with roses and with lilies shine,\n  Lilies and roses (flowers of either sex),\n  The bright bride's paths.\"\n\nIt was also customary to plant a rose-bush at the head of the grave of a\ndeceased lover, should either of them die before the wedding. Sprigs of\nbay were also introduced into the bridal wreath, besides ears of corn,\nemblematical of the plenty which might always crown the bridal couple.\nNowadays the bridal wreath is almost entirely composed of\norange-blossom, on a background of maiden-hair fern, with a sprig of\nstephanotis interspersed here and there. Much uncertainty exists as to\nwhy this plant was selected, the popular reason being that it was\nadopted as an emblem of fruitfulness. According to a correspondent of\n_Notes and Queries_, the practice may be traced to the Saracens, by whom\nthe orange-blossom was regarded as a symbol of a prosperous marriage--a\ncircumstance which is partly to be accounted for by the fact that in the\nEast the orange-tree bears ripe fruit and blossom at the same time.\n\nThen there is the bridal bouquet, which is a very different thing from\nwhat it was in years gone by. Instead of being composed of the scarcest\nand most costly flowers arranged in the most elaborate manner, it was a\nhomely nosegay of mere country flowers--some of the favourite ones, says\nHerrick, being pansy, rose, lady-smock, prick-madam, gentle-heart, and\nmaiden-blush. A spray of gorse was generally inserted, in allusion, no\ndoubt, to the time-honoured proverb, \"When the furze is out of bloom,\nkissing is out of fashion.\" In spring-time again, violets and primroses\nwere much in demand, probably from being in abundance at the season;\nalthough they have generally been associated with early death.\n\nAmong the many floral customs associated with the wedding ceremony may\nbe mentioned the bridal-strewings, which were very prevalent in past\nyears, a survival of which is still kept up at Knutsford, in Cheshire.\nOn such an occasion, the flowers used were emblematical, and if the\nbride happened to be unpopular, she often encountered on her way to the\nchurch flowers of a not very complimentary meaning. The practice was not\nconfined to this country, and we are told how in Holland the threshold\nof the newly-married couple was strewn with flowers, the laurel being as\na rule most conspicuous among the festoons. Lastly, the use of flowers\nin paying honours to the dead has been from time immemorial most\nwidespread. Instances are so numerous that it is impossible to do more\nthan quote some of the most important, as recorded in our own and other\ncountries. For detailed accounts of these funereal floral rites it would\nbe necessary to consult the literature of the past from a very early\nperiod, and the result of such inquiries would form material enough for\na goodly-sized volume. Therespect for the dead among the early Greeks\nwas very great, and Miss Lambert[6] quotes the complaint of Petala to\nSimmalion, in the Epistles of Alciphron, to show how special was the\ndedication of flowers to the dead:--\"I have a lover who is a mourner,\nnot a lover; he sends me garlands and roses as if to deck a premature\ngrave, and he says he weeps through the live-long night.\"\n\nThe chief flowers used by them for strewing over graves were the\npolyanthus, myrtle, and amaranth; the rose, it would appear from\nAnacreon, having been thought to possess a special virtue for\nthe dead:--\n\n  \"When pain afflicts and sickness grieves,\n  Its juice the drooping heart relieves;\n  And after death its odours shed\n  A pleasing fragrance o'er the dead.\"\n\nAnd Electra is represented as complaining that the\ntomb of her father, Agamemnon, had not been duly\nadorned with myrtle--\n\n  \"With no libations, nor with myrtle boughs,\n  Were my dear father's manes gratified.\"\n\nThe Greeks also planted asphodel and mallow round their graves, as the\nseeds of these plants were supposed to nourish the dead. Mourners, too,\nwore flowers at the funeral rites, and Homer relates how the Thessalians\nused crowns of amaranth at the burial of Achilles. The Romans were\nequally observant, and Ovid, when writing from the land of exile, prayed\nhis wife--\"But do you perform the funeral rites for me when dead, and\noffer chaplets wet with your tears. Although the fire shall have changed\nmy body into ashes, yet the sad dust will be sensible of your pious\naffection.\" Like the Greeks, the Romans set a special value on the rose\nas a funeral flower, and actually left directions that their graves\nshould be planted with this favourite flower, a custom said to have been\nintroduced by them into this country. Both Camden and Aubrey allude to\nit, and at the present day in Wales white roses denote the graves of\nyoung unmarried girls.\n\nComing down to modern times, we find the periwinkle, nicknamed \"death's\nflower,\" scattered over the graves of children in Italy--notably\nTuscany--and in some parts of Germany the pink is in request for this\npurpose. In Persia we read of:--\n\n       \"The basil-tuft that waves\n  Its fragrant blossoms over graves;\"\n\nAnd among the Chinese, roses, the anemone, and a species of lycoris are\nplanted over graves. The Malays use a kind of basil, and in Tripoli\ntombs are adorned with such sweet and fragrant flowers as the orange,\njessamine, myrtle, and rose. In Mexico the Indian carnation is popularly\nknown as the \"flower of the dead,\" and the people of Tahiti cover their\ndead with choice flowers. In America the Freemasons place twigs of\nacacia on the coffins of brethren. The Buddhists use flowers largely for\nfuneral purposes, and an Indian name for the tamarisk is the \"messenger\nof Yama,\" the Indian God of Death. The people of Madagascar have a\nspecies of mimosa, which is frequently found growing on the tombs, and\nin Norway the funeral plants are juniper and fir. In France the custom\nvery largely nourishes, roses and orange-blossoms in the southern\nprovinces being placed in the coffins of the young. Indeed, so general\nis the practice in France that, \"sceptics and believers uphold it, and\nstatesmen, and soldiers, and princes, and scholars equally with children\nand maidens are the objects of it.\"\n\nAgain, in Oldenburg, it is said that cornstalks must be scattered about\na house in which death has entered, as a charm against further\nmisfortune, and in the Tyrol an elder bush is often planted on a\nnewly-made grave.\n\nIn our own country the practice of crowning the dead and of strewing\ntheir graves with flowers has prevailed from a very early period, a\ncustom which has been most pathetically and with much grace described by\nShakespeare in \"Cymbeline\" (Act iv. sc. 2):--\n\n            \"With fairest flowers,\n  Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele,\n  I'll sweeten thy sad grave: thou shalt not lack\n  The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose; nor\n  The azured harebell, like thy veins; no, nor\n  The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander,\n  Out-sweeten'd not thy breath: the ruddock would,\n  With charitable bill, O bill, sore-shaming\n  Those rich-left heirs that let their fathers lie\n  Without a monument! bring thee all this;\n  Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none,\n  To winter-ground thy corse.\"\n\nAllusions to the custom are frequently to be met with in our old\nwriters, many of which have been collected together by Brand.[7] In\nformer years it was customary to carry sprigs of rosemary at a funeral,\nprobably because this plant was considered emblematical of\nremembrance:--\n\n  \"To show their love, the neighbours far and near,\n  Follow'd with wistful look the damsel's bier;\n  Spring'd rosemary the lads and lasses bore,\n  While dismally the parson walked before.\"\n\nGay speaks of the flowers scattered on graves as \"rosemary, daisy,\nbutter'd flower, and endive blue,\" and Pepys mentions a churchyard near\nSouthampton where the graves were sown with sage. Another plant which\nhas from a remote period been associated with death is the cypress,\nhaving been planted by the ancients round their graves. In our own\ncountry it was employed as a funeral flower, and Coles thus refers to\nit, together with the rosemary and bay:--\n\n \"Cypresse garlands are of great account at funerals amongst the\n gentler sort, but rosemary and bayes are used by the\n commons both at funerals and weddings. They are\n all plants which fade not a good while after they are\n gathered, and used (as I conceive) to intimate unto us\n that the remembrance of the present solemnity might\n not die presently (at once), but be kept in mind for\n many years.\"\n\nThe yew has from time immemorial been planted in churchyards besides\nbeing used at funerals. Paris, in \"Romeo and Juliet\", (Act v. sc. 3),\nsays:--\n\n  \"Under yon yew trees lay thee all along,\n  Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground;\n  So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread,\n  Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves,\n  But thou shall hear it.\"\n\nShakespeare also refers to the custom of sticking yew in the shroud in\nthe following song in \"Twelfth Night\" (Act ii. sc. 4):--\n\n  \"My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,\n    Oh, prepare it;\n  My part of death, no one so true\n    Did share it.\"\n\nUnhappy lovers had garlands of willow, yew, and rosemary laid on their\nbiers, an allusion to which occurs in the \"Maid's Tragedy\":--\n\n  \"Lay a garland on my hearse\n    Of the dismal yew;\n  Maidens, willow branches bear--\n    Say I died true.\n  My love was false, but I was firm\n    From my hour of birth;\n  Upon my buried body lie\n    Lightly, gentle earth.\"\n\nAmong further funeral customs may be mentioned that of carrying a\ngarland of flowers and sweet herbs before a maiden's coffin, and\nafterwards suspending it in the church. Nichols, in his \"History of\nLancashire\" (vol. ii. pt. i. 382), speaking of Waltham in Framland\nHundred, says: \"In this church under every arch a garland is suspended,\none of which is customarily placed there whenever any young unmarried\nwoman dies.\" It is to this custom Gay feelingly alludes:--\n\n\n  \"To her sweet mem'ry flowing garlands strung,\n  On her now empty seat aloft were hung.\"\n\nIndeed, in all the ceremonial observances of life, from the cradle to\nthe grave, flowers have formed a prominent feature, the symbolical\nmeaning long attached to them explaining their selection on different\noccasions.\n\n\nFootnotes:\n\n1. See \"Flower-lore,\" p. 147.\n\n2. \"The Ceremonial Use of Flowers.\"\n\n3. _Fraser's Magazine_, 1870, p. 711.\n\n4. \"Flower-lore,\" pp. 149-50.\n\n5. Miss Lambert, _Nineteenth Century_, May 1880, p. 821.\n\n6. _Nineteenth Century_, September 1878, p. 473.\n\n7. \"Popular Antiquities,\" 1870, ii. 24, &c.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nPLANT NAMES.\n\n\nThe origin and history of plant names is a subject of some magnitude,\nand is one that has long engaged the attention of philologists. Of the\nmany works published on plant names, that of the \"English Dialect\nSociety\"[1] is by far the most complete, and forms a valuable addition\nto this class of literature.\n\nSome idea of the wide area covered by the nomenclature of plants, as\nseen in the gradual evolution and descent of vernacular names, may be\ngathered even from a cursory survey of those most widely known in our\nown and other countries. Apart, too, from their etymological\nassociations, it is interesting to trace the variety of sources from\nwhence plant names have sprung, a few illustrations of which are given\nin the present chapter.\n\nAt the outset, it is noteworthy that our English plant names can boast\nof a very extensive parentage, being, \"derived from many\nlanguages--Latin, Greek, ancient British, Anglo-Saxon, Norman, Low\nGerman, Swedish, Danish, Arabic, Persian.\"[2] It is not surprising,\ntherefore, that in many cases much confusion has arisen in unravelling\ntheir meaning, which in the course of years would naturally become more\nor less modified by a succession of influences such as the\nintercommunication and change of ideas between one country and another.\nOn the other hand, numerous plant names clearly display their origin,\nthe lapse of years having left these unaffected, a circumstance which is\nespecially true in the case of Greek and Latin names. Names of French\norigin are frequently equally distinct, a familiar instance being\ndandelion, from the French _dent-de-lion_, \"lion's tooth,\" although the\nreason for its being so called is by no means evident. At the same time,\nit is noticeable that in nearly every European language the plant bears\na similar name; whereas Professor De Gubernatis connects the name with\nthe sun (Helios), and adds that a lion was the animal symbol of the sun,\nand that all plants named after him are essentially plants of the\nsun.[3] One of the popular names of the St. John's wort is tutsan, a\ncorruption of the French _toute saine_, so called from its healing\nproperties, and the mignonette is another familiar instance. The\nflower-de-luce, one of the names probably of the iris, is derived from\n_fleur de Louis_, from its having been assumed as his device by Louis\nVII. of France. It has undergone various changes, having been in all\nprobability contracted into fleur-de-luce, and finally into fleur-de-lys\nor fleur-de-lis. An immense deal of discussion has been devoted to the\nhistory of this name, and a great many curious theories proposed in\nexplanation of it, some being of opinion that the lily and not the iris\nis referred to. But the weight of evidence seem to favour the iris\ntheory, this plant having been undoubtedly famous in French history.\nOnce more, by some,[4] the name fleur-de-lys has been derived from L\u00f6ys,\nin which manner the twelve first Louis signed their names, and which was\neasily contracted into Lys. Some consider it means the flower that grows\non the banks of the river Lis, which separated France and Artois from\nFlanders. Turning to the literature of the past, Shakespeare has several\nallusions to the plant, as in \"I Henry VI,\" where a messenger enters and\nexclaims:--\n\n  \"Awake, awake, English nobility!\n  Let not sloth dim your honours new begot;\n  Cropp'd are the flower-de-luces in your arms;\n  Of England's coat one half is cut away.\"\n\nSpenser mentions the plant, and distinguishes it from the lily:--\n\n  \"Show mee the grounde with daifadown-dillies,\n  And cowslips, and kingcups, and loved lillies;\n  The pretty pawnee,\n  And the cherisaunce,\n  Shall march with the fayre flowre delice.\"\n\nAnother instance is the mignonette of our French neighbours, known also\nas the \"love-flower.\" One of the names of the deadly nightshade is\nbelladonna which reminds us of its Italian appellation, and \"several of\nour commonest plant names are obtained from the Low German or Dutch, as,\nfor instance, buckwheat (_Polygonum fagopyrum_), from the Dutch\n_bockweit_.\" The rowan-tree (_Pyrus aucuparia_) comes from the Danish\n_r\u00f6un_, Swedish _r\u00fcnn_, which, as Dr. Prior remarks, is traceable to the\n\"old Norse _runa_, a charm, from its being supposed to have power to\navert evil.\" Similarly, the adder's tongue (_Ophioglossum vulgatum_) is\nsaid to be from the Dutch _adder-stong_, and the word hawthorn is found\nin the various German dialects.\n\nAs the authors of \"English Plant Names\" remark (Intr. xv.), many\nnorth-country names are derived from Swedish and Danish sources, an\ninteresting example occurring in the word _kemps_, a name applied to the\nblack heads of the ribwort plantain (_Plantago lanceolata_). The origin\nof this name is to be found in the Danish _kaempe_, a warrior, and the\nreason for its being so called is to be found in the game which children\nin most parts of the kingdom play with the flower-stalks of the\nplantain, by endeavouring to knock off the heads of each other's mimic\nweapons. Again, as Mr. Friend points out, the birch would take us back\nto the primeval forests of India, and among the multitudinous instances\nof names traceable to far-off countries may be mentioned the lilac and\ntulip from Persia, the latter being derived from _thoulyban_, the word\nused in Persia for a turban. Lilac is equivalent to _lilag_, a Persian\nword signifying flower, having been introduced into Europe from that\ncountry early in the sixteenth century by Busbeck, a German traveller.\nBut illustrations of this land are sufficient to show from how many\ncountries our plant names have been brought, and how by degrees they\nhave become interwoven into our own language, their pronunciation being\nAnglicised by English speakers.\n\nMany plants, again, have been called in memory of leading characters in\ndays gone by, and after those who discovered their whereabouts and\nintroduced them into European countries. Thus the fuchsia, a native of\nChili, was named after Leonard Fuchs, a well-known German botanist, and\nthe magnolia was so called in honour of Pierre Magnol, an eminent writer\non botanical subjects. The stately dahlia after Andrew Dahl, the Swedish\nbotanist. But, without enumerating further instances, for they are\nfamiliar to most readers, it may be noticed that plants which embody the\nnames of animals are very numerous indeed. In many cases this has\nresulted from some fancied resemblance to some part of the animal named;\nthus from their long tongued-like leaves, the hart's-tongue,\nlamb's-tongue, and ox-tongue were so called, while some plants have\nderived their names from the snouts of certain animals, such as the\nswine's-snout (_Lentodon taraxacum_), and calf's-snout, or, as it is\nmore commonly termed, snapdragon (_Antirrhinum majus_). The gaping\ncorollas of various blossoms have suggested such names as dog's-mouth,\nrabbit's-mouth, and lion's-snap, and plants with peculiarly-shaped\nleaves have given rise to names like these--mouse-ear (_Stachys\nZanaia_), cat's-ears, and bear's-ears. Numerous names have been\nsuggested by their fancied resemblance to the feet, hoofs, and tails of\nanimals and birds; as, for instance, colt's-foot, crow-foot, bird's-foot\ntrefoil, horse-shoe vetch, bull-foot, and the vervain, nicknamed\nfrog's-foot. Then there is the larkspur, also termed lark's-claw, and\nlark's-heel, the lamb's-toe being so called from its downy heads of\nflowers, and the horse-hoof from the shape of the leaf. Among various\nsimilar names may be noticed the crane's-bill and stork's-bill, from\ntheir long beak-like seed-vessels, and the valerian, popularly\ndesignated capon's-tail, from its spreading flowers.\n\nMany plant names have animal prefixes, these indeed forming a very\nextensive list. But in some instances, \"the name of an animal prefixed\nhas a totally different signification, denoting size, coarseness, and\nfrequently worthlessness or spuriousness.\" Thus the horse-parsley was so\ncalled from its coarseness as compared with smallage or celery, and the\nhorse-mushroom from its size in distinction to a species more commonly\neaten. The particular uses to which certain plants have been applied\nhave originated their names: the horse-bean, from being grown as a food\nfor horses; and the horse-chestnut, because used in Turkey for horses\nthat are broken or touched in the wind. Parkinson, too, adds how,\n\"horse-chestnuts are given in the East, and so through all Turkey, unto\nhorses to cure them of the cough, shortness of wind, and such other\ndiseases.\" The germander is known as horse-chere, from its growing after\nhorse-droppings; and the horse-bane, because supposed in Sweden to cause\na kind of palsy in horses--an effect which has been ascribed by Linnaeus\nnot so much to the noxious qualities of the plant itself, as to an\ninsect (_Curculio paraplecticus_) that breeds in its stem.\n\nThe dog has suggested sundry plant names, this prefix frequently\nsuggesting the idea of worthlessness, as in the case of the dog-violet,\nwhich lacks the sweet fragrance of the true violet, and the dog-parsley,\nwhich, whilst resembling the true plant of this name, is poisonous and\nworthless. In like manner there is the dog-elder, dog's-mercury,\ndog's-chamomile, and the dog-rose, each a spurious form of a plant quite\ndistinct; while on the other hand we have the dog's-tooth grass, from\nthe sharp-pointed shoots of its underground stem, and the dog-grass\n(_Triticum caninu_), because given to dogs as an aperient.\n\nThe cat has come in for its due share of plant names, as for instance\nthe sun-spurge, which has been nicknamed cat's-milk, from its milky\njuice oozing in drops, as milk from the small teats of a cat; and the\nblossoms of the talix, designated cats-and-kittens, or kittings,\nprobably in allusion to their soft, fur-like appearance. Further names\nare, cat's-faces (_Viola tricolor_), cat's-eyes (_Veronica chamcaedrys_),\ncat's-tail, the catkin of the hazel or willow, and cat's-ear\n(_Hypochaeris maculata_).\n\nThe bear is another common prefix. Thus there is the bear's-foot, from\nits digital leaf, the bear-berry, or bear's-bilberry, from its fruit\nbeing a favourite food of bears, and the bear's-garlick. There is the\nbear's-breech, from its roughness, a name transferred by some mistake\nfrom the Acanthus to the cow-parsnip, and the bear's-wort, which it has\nbeen suggested \"is rather to be derived from its use in uterine\ncomplaints than from the animal.\"\n\nAmong names in which the word cow figures may be mentioned the cow-bane,\nwater-hemlock, from its supposed baneful effects upon cows, because,\nwrites Withering, \"early in the spring, when it grows in the water, cows\noften eat it, and are killed by it.\" Cockayne would derive cowslip from\n_cu_, cow, and _slyppe_, lip, and cow-wheat is so nicknamed from its\nseed resembling wheat, but being worthless as food for man. The flowers\nof the _Arum maculatum_ are \"bulls and cows;\" and in Yorkshire the fruit\nof _Crataegus oxyacantha_ is bull-horns;--an old name for the horse-leek\nbeing bullock's-eye.\n\nMany curious names have resulted from the prefix pig, as in Sussex,\nwhere the bird's-foot trefoil is known as pig's-pettitoes; and in\nDevonshire the fruit of the dog-rose is pig's-noses. A Northamptonshire\nterm for goose-grass (_Galium aparine_) is pig-tail, and the pig-nut\n(_Brunium flexuosum_) derived this name from its tubers being a\nfavourite food of pigs, and resembling nuts in size and flavour. The\ncommon cyclamen is sow-head, and a popular name for the _Sonchus\noleraceus_ is sow-thistle. Among further names also associated with the\nsow may be included the sow-fennel, sow-grass, and sow-foot, while the\nsow-bane (_Chenopodium rubrum_), is so termed from being, as Parkinson\ntells us, \"found certain to kill swine.\"\n\nAmong further animal prefixes may be noticed the wolfs-bane (_Aconitum\nnapellus_), wolf's-claws (_Lycopodium clavatum_), wolf's-milk\n(_Euphorbia helioscopia_), and wolfs-thistle (_Carlina acaulis_). The\nmouse has given us numerous names, such as mouse-ear (_Hieracium\npilosella_), mouse-grass (_Aira caryophyllea_), mouse-ear scorpion-grass\n(_Myosotis palustris_), mouse-tail (_Myosurus minimus_), and mouse-pea.\nThe term rat-tail has been applied to several plants having a tail-like\ninflorescence, such as the _Plantago lanceolata_ (ribwort plantain).\n\nThe term toad as a prefix, like that of dog, frequently means spurious,\nas in the toad-flax, a plant which, before it comes into flower, bears a\ntolerably close resemblance to a plant of the true flax. The frog,\nagain, supplies names, such as frog's-lettuce, frog's-foot, frog-grass,\nand frog-cheese; while hedgehog gives us such names as hedgehog-parsley\nand hedgehog-grass.\n\nConnected with the dragon we have the name dragon applied to the\nsnake-weed (_Polygonum bistorta_), and dragon's-blood is one of the\npopular names of the Herb-Robert. The water-dragon is a nickname of the\n_Caltha palustris_, and dragon's-mouth of the _Digitalis purpurea_.\n\nOnce more, there is scorpion-grass and scorpion-wort, both of which\nrefer to various species of Myosotis; snakes and vipers also adding to\nthe list. Thus there is viper's-bugloss, and snake-weed. In\nGloucestershire the fruit of the _Arum maculatum_ is snake's-victuals,\nand snake's-head is a common name for thefritillary. There is the\nsnake-skin willow and snake's-girdles;--snake's-tongue being a name\ngiven to the bane-wort (_Ranunculus flammula_).\n\nNames in which the devil figures have been noticed elsewhere, as also\nthose in which the words fairy and witch enter. As the authors, too, of\nthe \"Dictionary of Plant Names\" have pointed out, a great number of\nnames may be called dedicatory, and embody the names of many of the\nsaints, and even of the Deity. The latter, however, are very few in\nnumber, owing perhaps to a sense of reverence, and \"God Almighty's bread\nand cheese,\" \"God's eye,\" \"God's grace,\" \"God's meat,\" \"Our Lord's, or\nOur Saviour's flannel,\" \"Christ's hair,\" \"Christ's herb,\" \"Christ's\nladder,\" \"Christ's thorn,\" \"Holy Ghost,\" and \"Herb-Trinity,\" make up\nalmost the whole list. On the other hand, the Virgin Mary has suggested\nnumerous names, some of which we have noticed in the chapter on sacred\nplants. Certain of the saints, again, have perpetuated their names in\nour plant nomenclature, instances of which are scattered throughout the\npresent volume.\n\nSome plants, such as flea-bane and wolf's-bane, refer to the reputed\nproperty of the plant to keep off or injure the animal named,[5] and\nthere is a long list of plants which derived their names from their real\nor imaginary medicinal virtues, many of which illustrate the old\ndoctrine of signatures.\n\nBirds, again, like animals, have suggested various names, and among some\nof the best-known ones may be mentioned the goose-foot, goose-grass,\ngoose-tongue. Shakespeare speaks of cuckoo-buds, and there is\ncuckoo's-head, cuckoo-flower, and cuckoo-fruit, besides the stork's-bill\nand crane's-bill. Bees are not without their contingent of names; a\npopular name of the _Delphinium grandiflorum_ being the bee-larkspur,\n\"from the resemblance of the petals, which are studded with yellow\nhairs, to the humble-bee whose head is buried in the recesses of\nthe flower.\" There is the bee-flower (_Ophrys apifera_), because the,\n\"lip is in form and colour so like a bee, that any one unacquainted\ntherewith would take it for a living bee sucking of the flower.\"\n\nIn addition to the various classes of names already mentioned, there are\na rich and very varied assortment found in most counties throughout the\ncountry, many of which have originated in the most amusing and eccentric\nway. Thus \"butter and eggs\" and \"eggs and bacon\" are applied to several\nplants, from the two shades of yellow in the flower, and butter-churn to\nthe _Nuphar luteum_, from the shape of the fruit. A popular term for\n_Nepeta glechoma_ is \"hen and chickens,\" and \"cocks and hens\" for the\n_Plantago lanceolata_. A Gloucestershire nickname for the _Plantago\nmedia_ is fire-leaves, and the hearts'-ease has been honoured with all\nsorts of romantic names, such as \"kiss me behind the garden gate;\" and\n\"none so pretty\" is one of the popular names of the saxifrage. Among the\nnames of the Arum may be noticed \"parson in the pulpit,\" \"cows and\ncalves,\" \"lords and ladies,\" and \"wake-robin.\" The potato has a variety\nof names, such as leather-jackets, blue-eyes, and red-eyes.\n\nA pretty name in Devonshire for the _Veronica chamcaedrys_ is\nangel's-eyes:--\n\n  \"Around her hat a wreath was twined\n  Of blossoms, blue as southern skies;\n  I asked their name, and she replied,\n  We call them angel's-eyes.\"[6]\n\nIn the northern counties the poplar, on account of its bitter bark, was\ntermed the bitter-weed.[7]\n\n  \"Oak, ash, and elm-tree,\n  The laird can hang for a' the three;\n  But fir, saugh, and bitter-weed,\n  The laird may flyte, but make naething be'et.\"\n\nAccording to the compilers of \"English Plant Names,\" \"this name is\nassigned to no particular species of poplar, nor have we met with it\nelsewhere.\" The common Solomon's seal (_Polygonatum multiflorum_) has\nbeen nicknamed \"David's harp,\"[8] and, \"appears to have arisen from the\nexact similarity of the outline of the bended stalk, with its pendent\nbill-like blossoms, to the drawings of monkish times in which King David\nis represented as seated before an instrument shaped like the half of a\npointed arch, from which are suspended metal bells, which he strikes\nwith two hammers.\"\n\nIn the neighbourhood of Torquay, fir-cones are designated oysters, and\nin Sussex the Arabis is called \"snow-on-the-mountain,\" and\n\"snow-in-summer.\" A Devonshire name for the sweet scabriosis is the\nmournful-widow, and in some places the red valerian (_Centranthus\nruber_) is known as scarlet-lightning. A common name for _Achillaea\nptarmica_ is sneezewort, and the _Petasites vulgaris_ has been\ndesignated \"son before the father.\" The general name for _Drosera\nrotundifolia_ is sun-dew, and in Gloucestershire the _Primula auricula_\nis the tanner's-apron. The _Viola tricolor_ is often known as \"three\nfaces in a hood,\" and the _Aconitum napellus_ as \"Venus's chariot drawn\nby two doves.\" The _Stellaria holostea_ is \"lady's white petticoat,\" and\nthe _Scandix pecten_ is \"old wife's darning-needles.\" One of the names\nof the Campion is plum-pudding, and \"spittle of the stars\" has been\napplied to the _Nostoc commune_. Without giving further instances of\nthese odd plant names, we would conclude by quoting the following\nextract from the preface of Mr. Earle's charming little volume on\n\"English Plant Names,\" a remark which, indeed, most equally applies to\nother sections of our subject beyond that of the present chapter:--\"The\nfascination of plant names has its foundation in two instincts, love of\nNature, and curiosity about Language. Plant names are often of the\nhighest antiquity, and more or less common to the whole stream of\nrelated nations. Could we penetrate to the original suggestive idea that\ncalled forth the name, it would bring valuable information about the\nfirst openings of the human mind towards Nature; and the merest dream of\nsuch a discovery invests with a strange charm the words that could tell,\nif we could understand, so much of the forgotten infancy of the human\nrace.\"\n\n\n\nFootnotes:\n\n\n1. \"Dictionary of English Plant Names,\" by J. Britten and Robert\n    Holland. 1886.\n\n2. \"English Plant Names,\" Introduction, p. xiii.\n\n3. See Folkard's \"Legends,\" p. 309; Friend's \"Flowers and Flowerlore,\"\n    ii. 401-5.\n\n4. See \"Flower-lore,\" p. 74.\n\n5. Friend's \"Flower-lore,\" ii. 425.\n\n6. _Garden_, June 29, 1872.\n\n7. Johnston's \"Botany of Eastern Borders,\" 1853, p. 177.\n\n8. Lady Wilkinson's \"Weeds and Wild Flowers,\" p. 269.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nPLANT LANGUAGE.\n\n\nPlant language, as expressive of the various traits of human character,\ncan boast of a world-wide and antique history. It is not surprising that\nflowers, the varied and lovely productions of nature's dainty handiwork,\nshould have been employed as symbolic emblems, and most aptly indicative\noftentimes of what words when even most wisely chosen can ill convey;\nfor as Tennyson remarks:--\n\n          \"Any man that walks the mead\n  In bud, or blade, or bloom, may find\n  A meaning suited to his mind.\"\n\nHence, whether we turn to the pages of the Sacred Volume, or to the\nearly Greek writings, we find the symbolism of flowers most eloquently\nillustrated, while Persian poetry is rich in allusions of the same kind.\nIndeed, as Mr. Ingram has remarked in his \"Flora Symbolica,\"[1]--Every\nage and every clime has promulgated its own peculiar system of floral\nsigns, and it has been said that the language of flowers is as old as\nthe days of Adam; having, also, thousands of years ago, existed in the\nIndian, Egyptian, and Chaldean civilisations which have long since\npassed away. He further adds how the Chinese, whose, \"chronicles\nantedate the historic records of all other nations, seem to have had a\nsimple but complete mode of communicating ideas by means of florigraphic\nsigns;\" whereas, \"the monuments of the old Assyrian and Egyptian races\nbear upon their venerable surfaces a code of floral telegraphy whose\nhieroglyphical meaning is veiled or but dimly guessed at in our day.\"\nThe subject is an extensive one, and also enters largely into the\nceremonial use of flowers, many of which were purposely selected for\ncertain rites from their long-established symbolical character. At the\nsame time, it must be remembered that many plants have had a meaning\nattached to them by poets and others, who have by a license of their own\nmade them to represent certain sentiments and ideas for which there is\nno authority save their own fancy.\n\nHence in numerous instances a meaning, wholly misguiding, has been\nassigned to various plants, and has given rise to much confusion. This,\ntoo, it may be added, is the case in other countries as well as our own.\n\nFurthermore, as M. de Gubernatis observes, \"there exist a great number of\nbooks which pretend to explain the language of flowers, wherein one may\noccasionally find a popular or traditional symbol; but, as a rule, these\nexpressions are generally the wild fancies of the author himself.\"\nHence, in dealing with plant language, one is confronted with a host of\nhandbooks, many of which are not only inaccurate, but misleading. But in\nenumerating the recognised and well-known plants that have acquired a\nfigurative meaning, it will be found that in a variety of cases this may\nbe traced to their connection with some particular event in years past,\nand not to some chance or caprice, as some would make us believe. The\namaranth, for instance, which is the emblem of immortality, received its\nname, \"never-fading,\" from the Greeks on account of the lasting nature\nof its blossoms. Accordingly, Milton crowns with amaranth the angelic\nmultitude assembled before the Deity:--\n\n                 \"To the ground,\n  With solemn adoration, down they cast\n  Their crowns, inwove with amaranth and gold.\n  Immortal amaranth, a flower which once\n  In Paradise, fast by the tree of life,\n  Began to bloom; but soon, for man's offence,\n  To heaven removed, where first it grew, there grows\n  And flowers aloft, shading the font of life,\" &c.\n\nAnd in some parts of the Continent churches are adorned at\nChristmas-tide with the amaranth, as a symbol \"of that immortality to\nwhich their faith bids them look.\"\n\nGrass, from its many beneficial qualities, has been made the emblem of\nusefulness; and the ivy, from its persistent habit of clinging to the\nheaviest support, has been universally adopted as the symbol of\nconfiding love and fidelity. Growing rapidly, it iron clasps:--\n\n  \"The fissured stone with its entwining arms,\n  And embowers with leaves for ever green,\n  And berries dark.\"\n\nAccording to a Cornish tradition, the beautiful Iseult, unable to endure\nthe loss of her betrothed--the brave Tristran--died of a broken heart,\nand was buried in the same church, but, by order of the king, the two\ngraves were placed at a distance from each other. Soon, however, there\nburst forth from the tomb of Tristran a branch of ivy, and another from\nthe grave of Iseult; these shoots gradually growing upwards, until at\nlast the lovers, represented by the clinging ivy, were again united\nbeneath the vaulted roof of heaven.[2]\n\nThen, again, the cypress, in floral language, denotes mourning; and, as\nan emblem of woe, may be traced to the familiar classical myth of\nCyparissus, who, sorrow-stricken at having skin his favourite stag, was\ntransformed into a cypress tree. Its ominous and sad character is the\nsubject of constant allusion, Virgil having introduced it into the\nfuneral rites of his heroes. Shelley speaks of the unwept youth whom no\nmourning maidens decked,\n\n  \"With weeping flowers, or votive cypress wreath,\n  The love-couch of his everlasting sleep.\"\n\nAnd Byron describes the cypress as,\n\n  \"Dark tree! still sad when other's grief is fled,\n  The only constant mourner o'er the dead.\"\n\nThe laurel, used for classic wreaths, has long been regarded\nemblematical of renown, and Tasso thus addresses a laurel leaf in the\nhair of his mistress:--\n\n  \"O glad triumphant bough,\n  That now adornest conquering chiefs, and now\n  Clippest the bows of over-ruling kings\n  From victory to victory.\n  Thus climbing on through all the heights of story,\n  From worth to worth, and glory unto glory,\n  To finish all, O gentle and royal tree,\n  Thou reignest now upon that flourishing head,\n  At whose triumphant eyes love and our souls are led.\"\n\nLike the rose, the myrtle is the emblem of love, having been dedicated\nby the Greeks and Romans to Venus, in the vicinity of whose temples\nmyrtle-groves were planted; hence, from time immemorial,\n\n  \"Sacred to Venus is the myrtle shade.\"\n\nThis will explain its frequent use in bridal ceremonies on the\nContinent, and its employment for the wedding wreath of the Jewish\ndamsel. Herrick, mindful of its associations, thus apostrophises Venus:--\n\n  \"Goddess, I do love a girl,\n  Ruby lipp'd and toothed like pearl;\n  If so be I may but prove\n  Lucky in this maid I love,\n  I will promise there shall be\n  Myrtles offered up to thee.\"\n\nTo the same goddess was dedicated the rose, and its world-wide\nreputation as \"the flower of love,\" in which character it has been\nextolled by poets in ancient and modern times, needs no more than\nreference here.\n\nThe olive indicates peace, and as an emblem was given to Judith when she\nrestored peace to the Israelites by the death of Holofernes.[3]\nShakespeare, in \"Twelfth Night\" (Act i. sc. 5), makes Viola say:--\"I\nbring no overture of war, no taxation of homage; I hold the olive in my\nhand; my words are as full of peace as of matter.\" Similarly, the palm,\nwhich, as the symbol of victory, was carried before the conqueror in\ntriumphal processions, is generally regarded as denoting victory. Thus,\npalm-branches were scattered in the path of Christ upon His public entry\ninto Jerusalem; and, at the present day, a palm-branch is embroidered on\nthe lappet of the gown of a French professor, to indicate that a\nUniversity degree has been attained.[4]\n\nSome flowers have become emblematical from their curious\ncharacteristics. Thus, the balsam is held to be expressive of\nimpatience, because its seed-pods when ripe curl up at the slightest\ntouch, and dart forth their seeds, with great violence; hence one of its\npopular names, \"touch-me-not.\" The wild anemone has been considered\nindicative of brevity, because its fragile blossom is so quickly\nscattered to the wind and lost:--\n\n  \"The winds forbid the flowers to flourish long,\n  Which owe to winds their name in Grecian song.\"\n\nThe poppy, from its somniferous effects, has been made symbolic of sleep\nand oblivion; hence Virgil calls it the Lethean poppy, whilst our old\npastoral poet, William Browne, speaks of it as \"sleep-bringing poppy.\"\nThe heliotrope denotes devoted attachment, from its having been supposed\nto turn continually towards the sun; hence its name, signifying the\n_sun_ and _to turn_. The classic heliotrope must not be confounded with\nthe well-known Peruvian heliotrope or \"cherry-pie,\" a plant with small\nlilac-blue blossoms of a delicious fragrance. It would seem that many of\nthe flowers which had the reputation of opening and shutting at the\nsun's bidding were known as heliotropes, or sunflowers, or turnesol.\nShakespeare alludes to the,\n\n  \"Marigold, that goes to bed with the sun,\n  And with him rises weeping.\"\n\nAnd Moore, describing its faithful constancy, says:--\n\n  \"The sunflower turns on her god when he sets\n  The same look which she did when he rose.\"\n\nSuch a flower, writes Mr. Ellacombe, was to old writers \"the emblem of\nconstancy in affection and sympathy in joy and sorrow,\" though it was\nalso the emblem of the fawning courtier, who can only shine when\neverything is right. Anyhow, the so-called heliotrope was the subject of\nconstant symbolic allusion:--\n\n  \"The flower, enamoured of the sun,\n  At his departure hangs her head and weeps,\n  And shrouds her sweetness up, and keeps\n  Sad vigils, like a cloistered nun,\n  Till his reviving ray appears,\n  Waking her beauty as he dries her tears.\"[5]\n\nThe aspen, from its tremulous motion, has been made symbolical of fear.\nThe restless movement of its leaves is \"produced by the peculiar form of\nthe foot-stalks, and, indeed, in some degree, the whole tribe of poplars\nare subject to have their leaves agitated by the slightest breeze.\"[6]\nAnother meaning assigned to the aspen in floral language is scandal,\nfrom an old saying which affirmed that its tears were made from women's\ntongues--an allusion to which is made in the subjoined rhyme by P.\nHannay in the year 1622:--\n\n  \"The quaking aspen, light and thin,\n  To the air quick passage gives;\n    Resembling still\n    The trembling ill\n  Of tongues of womankind,\n    Which never rest,\n    But still are prest\n  To wave with every wind.\"\n\nThe almond, again, is regarded as expressive of haste, in reference to\nits hasty growth and early maturity; while the evening primrose, from\nthe time of its blossoms expanding, indicates silent love--refraining\nfrom unclosing \"her cup of paly gold until her lowly sisters are rocked\ninto a balmy slumber.\" The bramble, from its manner of growth, has been\nchosen as the type of lowliness; and \"from the fierceness with which it\ngrasps the passer-by with its straggling prickly stems, as an emblem\nof remorse.\"\n\nFennel was in olden times generally considered an inflammatory herb, and\nhence to eat \"conger and fennel\" was to eat two high and hot things\ntogether, which was an act of libertinism. Thus in \"2 Henry IV.\" (Act\nii. sc. 4), Falstaff says of Poins, \"He eats conger and fennel.\"\nRosemary formerly had the reputation of strengthening the memory, and on\nthis account was regarded as a symbol of remembrance. Thus, according to\nan old ballad:--\n\n  \"Rosemary is for remembrance\n  Between us day and night,\n  Wishing that I may always have\n  You present in my sight.\"\n\nAnd in \"Hamlet,\" where Ophelia seems to be addressing\nLaertes, she says (Act iv. sc. 5):--\n\n  \"There's rosemary, that's for remembrance.\"\n\nVervain, from time immemorial, has been the floral symbol of\nenchantment, owing to its having been in ancient times much in request\nfor all kinds of divinations and incantations. Virgil, it may be\nremembered, alludes to this plant as one of the charms used by an\nenchantress:--\n\n  \"Bring running water, bind those altars round\n  With fillets, with vervain strew the ground.\"\n\nParsley, according to floral language, has a double signification,\ndenoting feasting and death. On festive occasions the Greeks wore\nwreaths of parsley, and on many other occasions it was employed, such as\nat the Isthmian games. On the other hand, this plant was strewn over the\nbodies of the dead, and decked their graves.\n\n\"The weeping willow,\" as Mr. Ingram remarks, \"is one of those natural\nemblems which bear their florigraphical meaning so palpably impressed\nthat their signification is clear at first sight.\" This tree has always\nbeen regarded as the symbol of sorrow, and also of forsaken love. In\nChina it is employed in several rites, having from a remote period been\nregarded as a token of immortality. As a symbol of bitterness the aloe\nhas long been in repute, and \"as bitter as aloes\" is a proverbial\nexpression, doubtless derived from the acid taste of its juice. Eastern\npoets frequently speak of this plant as the emblem of bitterness; a\nmeaning which most fitly coincides with its properties. The lily of the\nvalley has had several emblems conferred upon it, each of which is\nequally apposite. Thus in reference to the bright hopeful season of\nspring, in which it blossoms, it has been regarded as symbolical of the\nreturn of happiness, whilst its delicate perfume has long been\nindicative of sweetness, a characteristic thus beautifully described\nby Keats:--\n\n  \"No flower amid the garden fairer grows\n  Than the sweet lily of the lowly vale,\n  The queen of flowers.\"\n\nIts perfect snow-white flower is the emblem of purity, allusions to\nwhich we find numerously scattered in the literature of the past. One of\nthe emblems of the white poplar in floral language is time, because its\nleaves appear always in motion, and \"being of a dead blackish-green\nabove, and white below,\" writes Mr. Ingram, \"they were deemed by the\nancients to indicate the alternation of night and day.\" Again, the\nplane-tree has been from early times made the symbol of genius and\nmagnificence; for in olden times philosophers taught beneath its\nbranches, which acquired for it a reputation as one of the seats of\nlearning. From its beauty and size it obtained a figurative meaning; and\nthe arbutus or strawberry-tree (_Arbutus unedo_) is the symbol of\ninseparable love, and the narcissus denotes self-love, from the story of\nNarcissus, who, enamoured of his own beauty, became spell-bound to the\nspot, where he pined to death. Shelley describes it as one of the\nflowers growing with the sensitive plant in that garden where:--\n\n  \"The pied wind flowers and the tulip tall,\n  And narcissi, the fairest among them all,\n  Who gaze on their eyes in the stream's recess,\n  Till they die at their own dear loveliness.\"\n\nThe sycamore implies curiosity, from Zacchaeus, who climbed up into this\ntree to witness the triumphal entry of Christ into Jerusalem; and from\ntime immemorial the violet has been the emblem of constancy:--\n\n  \"Violet is for faithfulness,\n  Which in me shall abide,\n  Hoping likewise that from your heart\n  You will not let it hide.\"\n\nIn some cases flowers seem to have derived their symbolism from certain\nevents associated with them. Thus the periwinkle signifies \"early\nrecollections, or pleasures of memory,\" in connection with which\nRousseau tells us how, as Madame Warens and himself were proceeding to\nCharmattes, she was struck by the appearance of some of these blue\nflowers in the hedge, and exclaimed, \"Here is the periwinkle still\nin flower.\"\n\nThirty years afterwards the sight of the periwinkle in flower carried\nhis memory back to this occasion, and he inadvertently cried, \"Ah, there\nis the periwinkle.\" Incidents of the kind have originated many of the\nsymbols found in plant language, and at the same time invested them with\na peculiar historic interest.\n\nOnce more, plant language, it has been remarked, is one of those binding\nlinks which connects the sentiments and feelings of one country with\nanother; although it may be, in other respects, these communities have\nlittle in common. Thus, as Mr. Ingram remarks in the introduction to his\n\"Flora Symbolica\" (p. 12), \"from the unlettered North American Indian to\nthe highly polished Parisian; from the days of dawning among the mighty\nAsiatic races, whose very names are buried in oblivion, down to the\npresent times, the symbolism of flowers is everywhere and in all ages\ndiscovered permeating all strata of society. It has been, and still is,\nthe habit of many peoples to name the different portions of the year\nafter the most prominent changes of the vegetable kingdom.\"\n\nIn the United States, the language of flowers is said to have more\nvotaries than in any other part of the world, many works relative to\nwhich have been published in recent years. Indeed, the subject will\nalways be a popular one; for further details illustrative of which the\nreader would do well to consult Mr. H.G. Adams's useful work on the\n\"Moral Language and Poetry of Flowers,\" not to mention the constant\nallusions scattered throughout the works of our old poets, such as\nShakespeare, Chaucer, and Drayton.\n\n\nFootnotes:\n\n1. Introduction, p. 12.\n\n2. Folkard's \"Plant Legends,\" p. 389.\n\n3. See Judith xv. 13.\n\n4. \"Flower-lore,\" pp. 197-8.\n\n5. \"Plant-lore of Shakespeare.\"\n\n6. \"Flower-lore,\" p. 168.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nFABULOUS PLANTS.\n\n\nThe curious traditions of imaginary plants found amongst most nations\nhave partly a purely mythological origin. Frequently, too, they may be\nattributed to the exaggerated accounts given by old travellers, who,\n\"influenced by a desire to make themselves famous, have gone so far as\nto pretend that they saw these fancied objects.\" Anyhow, from whatever\nsource sprung, these productions of ignorance and superstition have from\na very early period been firmly credited. But, like the accounts given\nus of fabulous animals, they have long ago been acknowledged as\nsurvivals of popular errors, which owed their existence to the absence\nof botanical knowledge.\n\nWe have elsewhere referred to the great world tree, and of the primitive\nidea of a human descent from trees. Indeed, according to the early and\nuncultured belief of certain communities, there were various kinds of\nanimal-producing trees, accounts of which are very curious. Among these\nmay be mentioned the vegetable lamb, concerning which olden writers have\ngiven the most marvellous description. Thus Sir John Maundeville, who in\nhis \"Voyage and Travel\" has recorded many marvellous sights which either\ncame under his notice, or were reported to him during his travels, has\nnot omitted to speak of this remarkable tree. Thus, to quote his\nwords:--\"There groweth a manner of fruit as though it were gourdes; and\nwhen they be ripe men cut them in two, and men find within a little\nbeast, in flesh, in bone, and blood--as though it were a little lamb\nwithouten wolle--and men eat both the fruit and the beast, and that is a\ngreat marvel; of that fruit I have eaten although it were wonderful; but\nthat I know well that God is marvellous in His works.\" Various accounts\nhave been given of this wondrous plant, and in Parkinson's \"Paradisus\"\nit is represented as one of the plants which grew in the Garden of Eden.\nIts local name is the Scythian or Tartarian Lamb; and, as it grows, it\nmight at a short distance be taken for an animal rather than a vegetable\nproduction. It is one of the genus Polypodium; root decumbent, thickly\nclothed with a very soft close hoal, of a deep yellow colour. It is also\ncalled by the Tartars \"Barometz,\" and a Chinese nickname is \"Rufous\ndog.\" Mr. Bell, in his \"Journey to Ispahan,\" thus describes a specimen\nwhich he saw:--\"It seemed to be made by art to imitate a lamb. It is\nsaid to eat up and devour all the grass and weeds within its reach.\nThough it may be thought that an opinion so very absurd could never find\ncredit with people of the meanest understanding, yet I have conversed\nwith some who were much inclined to believe it; so very prevalent is the\nprodigious and absurd with some part of mankind. Among the more sensible\nand experienced Tartars, I found they laughed at it as a ridiculous\nfable.\" Blood was said to flow from it when cut or injured, a\nsuperstition which probably originated in the fact that the fresh root\nwhen cut yields a tenacious gum like the blood of animals. Dr. Darwin,\nin his \"Loves of the Plants,\" adopts the fable thus:--\n\n  \"E'en round the pole the flames of love aspire,\n  And icy bosoms feel the sacred fire,\n  Cradled in snow, and fanned by arctic air,\n  Shines, gentle Barometz, the golden hair;\n  Rested in earth, each cloven hoof descends,\n  And round and round her flexile neck she bends.\n  Crops of the grey coral moss, and hoary thyme,\n  Or laps with rosy tongue the melting rime,\n  Eyes with mute tenderness her distant dam,\n  Or seems to bleat a vegetable lamb.\"\n\nAnother curious fiction prevalent in olden times was that of the\nbarnacle-tree, to which Sir John Maundeville also alludes:--\"In our\ncountry were trees that bear a fruit that becomes flying birds; those\nthat fell in the water lived, and those that fell on the earth died, and\nthese be right good for man's meat.\" As early as the twelfth century\nthis idea was promulgated by Giraldus Cambrensis in his \"Topographia\nHiberniae;\" and Gerarde in his \"Herball, or General History of Plants,\"\npublished in the year 1597, narrates the following:--\"There are found\nin the north parts of Scotland, and the isles adjacent, called Orcades,\ncertain trees, whereon do grow small fishes, of a white colour, tending\nto russet, wherein are contained little living creatures; which shells,\nin time of maturity, do open, and out of them grow those little living\nthings which, falling into the water, do become fowls, whom we call\nbarnacles, in the north of England brant-geese, and in Lancashire\ntree-geese; but the others that do fall upon the land perish, and do\ncome to nothing.\" But, like many other popular fictions, this notion was\nfounded on truth, and probably originated in mistaking the fleshy\npeduncle of the barnacle (_Lepas analifera_) for the neck of a goose,\nthe shell for its head, and the tentacula for a tuft of feather. There\nwere many versions of this eccentric myth, and according to one\nmodification given by Bo\u00ebce, the oldest Scottish historian, these\nbarnacle-geese are first produced in the form of worms in old trees, and\nfurther adds that such a tree was cast on shore in the year 1480, when\nthere appeared, on its being sawn asunder, a multitude of worms,\n\"throwing themselves out of sundry holes and pores of the tree; some of\nthem were nude, as they were new shapen; some had both head, feet, and\nwings, but they had no feathers; some of them were perfect shapen fowls.\nAt last, the people having this tree each day in more admiration,\nbrought it to the kirk of St. Andrew's, beside the town of Tyre, where\nit yet remains to our day.\"\n\nDu Bartas thus describes the various transformations of this bird:--\n\n  \"So, slowe Bo\u00f4tes underneath him sees,\n  In th' ycie iles, those goslings hatcht of trees;\n  Whose fruitful leaves, falling into the water,\n  Are turn'd, they say, to living fowls soon after.\n\n  So, rotten sides of broken ships do change\n  To barnacles; O transformation change,\n  'Twas first a green tree, then a gallant hull,\n  Lately a mushroom, now a flying gull.\"\n\nMeyer wrote a treatise on this strange \"bird without father or mother,\"\nand Sir Robert Murray, in the \"Philosophical Transactions,\" says that,\n\"these shells are hung at the tree by a neck, longer than the shell, of\na filmy substance, round and hollow and creased, not unlike the windpipe\nof a chicken, spreading out broadest where it is fastened to the tree,\nfrom which it seems to draw and convey the matter which serves for the\ngrowth and vegetation of the shell and the little bird within it. In\nevery shell that I opened,\" he adds, \"I found a perfect sea-fowl; the\nlittle bill like that of a goose, the eyes marked; the head, neck,\nbreast, wing, tail, and feet formed; the feathers everywhere perfectly\nshaped, and the feet like those of other water-fowl.\" The Chinese have a\ntradition of certain trees, the leaves of which were finally changed\ninto birds.\n\nWith this story may be compared that of the oyster-bearing tree, which\nBishop Fleetwood describes in his \"Curiosities of Agriculture and\nGardening,\" written in the year 1707. The oysters as seen, he says, by\nthe Dominican Du Tertre, at Guadaloupe, grew on the branches of trees,\nand, \"are not larger than the little English oysters, that is to say,\nabout the size of a crown-piece. They stick to the branches that hang in\nthe water of a tree called Paretuvier. No doubt the seed of the oysters,\nwhich is shed in the tree when they spawn, cleaves to those branches, so\nthat the oysters form themselves there, and grow bigger in process of\ntime, and by their weight bend down the branches into the sea, and then\nare refreshed twice a day by the flux and reflux of it.\" Kircher speaks\nof a tree in Chili, the leaves of which brought forth a certain kind of\nworm, which eventually became changed into serpents; and describes a\nplant which grew in the Molucca Islands, nicknamed \"catopa,\" on account\nof its leaves when falling off being transformed into butterflies.\n\nAmong some of the many other equally wonderful plants may be mentioned\nthe \"stony wood,\" which is thus described by Gerarde:--\"Being at Rugby,\nabout such time as our fantastic people did with great concourse and\nmultitudes repair and run headlong unto the sacred wells of Newnam\nRegis, in the edge of Warwickshire, as unto the Waters of Life, which\ncould cure all diseases.\" He visited these healing-wells, where he,\n\"found growing over the same a fair ash-tree, whose boughs did hang over\nthe spring of water, whereof some that were seare and rotten, and some\nthat of purpose were broken off, fell into the water and were all turned\ninto stone. Of these, boughs, or parts of the tree, I brought into\nLondon, which, when I had broken into pieces, therein might be seen that\nthe pith and all the rest was turned into stones, still remaining the\nsame shape and fashion that they were of before they were in the water.\"\nSimilarly, Sir John Maundeville notices the \"Dead Sea fruit\"--fruit\nfound on the apple-trees near the Dead Sea. To quote his own words:--\n\"There be full fair apples, and fair of colour to behold; but whoso\nbreaketh them or cutteth them in two, he shall find within them coals\nand cinders, in token that by the wrath of God, the city and the land\nwere burnt and sunken into hell.\" Speaking of the many legendary tales\nconnected with the apple, may be mentioned the golden apples which Hera\nreceived at her marriage with Zeus, and placed under the guardianship of\nthe dragon Ladon, in the garden of the Hesperides. The northern Iduna\nkept guarded the sacred apples which, by a touch, restored the aged gods\nto youth; and according to Sir J. Maundeville, the apples of Pyban fed\nthe pigmies with their smell only. This reminds us of the singing apple\nin the fairy romance, which would persuade by its smell alone, and\nenable the possessor to write poetry or prose, and to display the most\naccomplished wit; and of the singing tree in the \"Arabian Nights,\" each\nleaf of which was musical, all the leaves joining together in a\ndelightful harmony.\n\nBut peculiarities of this kind are very varied, and form an extensive\nsection in \"Plant-lore;\"--very many curious examples being found in old\ntravels, and related with every semblance of truth. In some instances\ntrees have obtained a fabulous character from being connected with\ncertain events. Thus there was the \"bleeding tree.\"[1] It appears that\none of the indictments laid to the charge of the Marquis of Argyll was\nthis:--\"That a tree on which thirty-six of his enemies were hanged was\nimmediately blasted, and when hewn down, a copious stream of blood ran\nfrom it, saturating the earth, and that blood for several years was\nemitted from the roots.\" Then there is the \"poet's tree,\" which grows\nover the tomb of Tan-Sein, a musician at the court of Mohammed Akbar.\nWhoever chews a leaf of this tree was long said to be inspired with\nsweet melody of voice, an allusion to which is made by Moore, in \"Lalla\nKookh:\":--\"His voice was sweet, as if he had chewed the leaves of that\nenchanted tree which grows over the tomb of the musician Tan-Sein.\"\n\nThe rare but occasional occurrence of vegetation in certain trees and\nshrubs, happening to take place at the period of Christ's birth, gave\nrise to the belief that such trees threw out their leaves with a holy\njoy to commemorate that anniversary. An oak of the early budding species\nfor two centuries enjoyed such a notoriety, having been said to shoot\nforth its leaves on old Christmas Day, no leaf being seen either before\nor after that day during winter. There was the famous Glastonbury thorn,\nand in the same locality a walnut tree was reported never to put forth\nits leaves before the feast of St. Barnabas, the 11th June. The monkish\nlegend runs thus: Joseph of Arimathaea, after landing at no great\ndistance from Glastonbury, walked to a hill about a mile from the town.\nBeing weary he sat down here with his companions, the hill henceforth\nbeing nicknamed \"Weary-All-Hill,\" locally abbreviated into \"Werral.\"\nWhilst resting Joseph struck his staff into the ground, which took root,\ngrew, and blossomed every Christmas Day. Previous to the time of Charles\nI a branch of this famous tree was carried in procession, with much\nceremony, at Christmas time, but during the Civil War the tree was\ncut down.\n\nMany plants, again, as the \"Sesame\" of the \"Arabian Nights,\" had the\npower of opening doors and procuring an entrance into caverns and\nmountain sides--a survival of which we find in the primrose or\nkey-flower of German legend. Similarly, other plants, such as the\ngolden-rod, have been renowned for pointing to hidden springs of water,\nand revealing treasures of gold and silver. Such fabulous properties\nhave been also assigned to the hazel-branch, popularly designated the\ndivining-rod:--\n\n  \"Some sorcerers do boast they have a rod,\n  Gather'd with vows and sacrifice,\n  And, borne aloft, will strangely nod\n  The hidden treasure where it lies.\"\n\nWith plants of the kind we may compare the wonder-working moonwort\n(_Botrychium lunaria_), which was said to open locks and to unshoe\nhorses that trod on it, a notion which Du Bartas thus mentions in his\n\"Divine Weekes\"--\n\n  \"Horses that, feeding on the grassy hills,\n  Tread upon moonwort with their hollow heels,\n  Though lately shod, at night go barefoot home,\n  Their maister musing where their shoes become.\n  O moonwort! tell me where thou bid'st the smith,\n  Hammer and pinchers, thou unshodd'st them with.\n\n  Alas! what lock or iron engine is't,\n  That can thy subtle secret strength resist,\n  Still the best farrier cannot set a shoe\n  So sure, but thou (so shortly) canst undo.\"\n\nThe blasting-root, known in Germany as spring-wurzel, and by us as\nspring-wort, possesses similar virtues, for whatever lock is touched by\nit must yield. It is no easy matter to find this magic plant, but,\naccording to a piece of popular folk-lore, it is obtained by means of\nthe woodpecker. When this bird visits its nest, it must have been\npreviously plugged up with wood, to remove which it goes in search of\nthe spring-wort. On holding this before the nest the wood shoots out\nfrom the tree as if driven by the most violent force. Meanwhile, a red\ncloth must be placed near the nest, which will so scare the woodpecker\nthat it will let the fabulous root drop. There are several versions of\nthis tradition. According to Pliny the bird is the raven; in Swabia it\nis the hoopoe, and in Switzerland the swallow. In Russia, there is a\nplant growing in marshy land, known as the rasir-trava, which when\napplied to locks causes them to open instantly. In Iceland similar\nproperties are ascribed to the herb-paris, there known as lasa-grass.\n\nAccording to a piece of Breton lore, the selago, or \"cloth of gold,\"\ncannot be cut with steel without the sky darkening and some disaster\ntaking place:--\n\n  \"The herb of gold is cut; a cloud\n  Across the sky hath spread its shroud\n  To war.\"\n\nOn the other hand, if properly gathered with due ceremony, it conferred\nthe power of understanding the language of beast or bird.[2] As far back\nas the time of Pliny, we have directions for the gathering of this magic\nplant. The person plucking it was to go barefoot, with feet washed, clad\nin white, after having offered a sacrifice of bread and wine. Another\nplant which had to be gathered with special formalities was the magic\nmandragora. It was commonly reported to shriek in such a hideous manner\nwhen pulled out of the earth that,\n\n  \"Living mortals hearing them run mad.\"\n\nHence, various precautions were adopted. According to Pliny, \"When they\nintended to take up the root of this plant, they took the wind thereof,\nand with a sword describing three circles about it, they digged it up,\nlooking towards the west.\" Another old authority informs us that he \"Who\nwould take it up, in common prudence should tie a dog to it to\naccomplish his purpose, as if he did it himself, he would shortly die.\"\nMoore gives this warning:--\n\n  \"The phantom shapes--oh, touch them not\n    That appal the maiden's sight,\n  Look in the fleshy mandrake's stem,\n    That shrieks when plucked at night.\"\n\nTo quote one or two more illustrations, we may mention the famous lily\nat Lauenberg, which is said to have sprung up when a poor and beautiful\ngirl was spirited away out of the clutches of a dissolute baron. It made\nits appearance annually, an event which was awaited with much interest\nby the inhabitants of the Hartz, many of whom made a pilgrimage to\nbehold it. \"They returned to their homes,\" it is said, \"overpowered by\nits dazzling beauty, and asserting that its splendour was so great that\nit shed beams of light on the valley below.\"\n\nSimilarly, we are told how the common break-fern flowers but once a\nyear, at midnight, on Michaelmas Eve, when it displays a small blue\nflower, which vanishes at the approach of dawn. According to a piece of\nfolk-lore current in Bohemia and the Tyrol, the fern-seed shines like\nglittering gold at the season, so that there is no chance of missing its\nappearance, especially as it has its sundry mystic properties which are\ndescribed elsewhere.\n\nProfessor Mannhardt relates a strange legend current in Mecklenburg to\nthe effect that in a certain secluded and barren spot, where a murder\nhad been committed, there grows up every day at noon a peculiarly-shaped\nthistle, unlike any other of its kind. On inspection there are to be\nseen human arms, hands, and heads, and as soon as twelve heads have\nappeared, the weird plant vanishes. It is further added that on one\noccasion a shepherd happened to pass the mysterious spot where the\nthistle was growing, when instantly his arms were paralysed and his\nstaff became tinder. Accounts of these fabulous trees and plants have in\nyears gone been very numerous, and have not yet wholly died out,\nsurviving in the legendary tales of most countries. In some instances,\ntoo, it would seem that certain trees like animals have gained a\nnotoriety, purely fabulous, through trickery and credulity. About the\nmiddle of the last century, for instance, there was the groaning-tree at\nBadesly, which created considerable sensation. It appears that a\ncottager, who lived in the village of Badesly, two miles from Lymington,\nfrequently heard a strange noise behind his house, like a person in\nextreme agony. For about twenty months this tree was an object of\nastonishment, and at last the owner of the tree, in order to discover\nthe cause of its supposed sufferings, bored a hole in the trunk. After\nthis operation it ceased to groan, it was rooted up, but nothing\nappeared to account for its strange peculiarity. Stories of this kind\nremind us of similar wonders recorded by Sir John Maundeville, as having\nbeen seen by him in the course of his Eastern travels. Thus he describes\na certain table of ebony or blackwood, \"that once used to turn into\nflesh on certain occasions, but whence now drops only oil, which, if\nkept above a year, becomes good flesh and bone.\"\n\n\n\nFootnotes:\n\n\n1. Laing's \"History of Scotland,\" 1800, ii. p. II.\n\n2. \"Flower-lore,\" p. 46.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\nDOCTRINE OF SIGNATURES.\n\n\nThe old medical theory, which supposed that plants by their external\ncharacter indicated the particular diseases for which Nature had\nintended them as remedies, was simply a development of the much older\nnotion of a real connection between object and image. Thus, on this\nprinciple, it was asserted that the properties of substances were\nfrequently denoted by their colour; hence, white was regarded as\nrefrigerant, and red as hot. In the same way, for disorders of the\nblood, burnt purple, pomegranate seeds, mulberries, and other red\ningredients were dissolved in the patient's drink; and for liver\ncomplaints yellow substances were recommended. But this fanciful and\nerroneous notion \"led to serious errors in practice,\" [1] and was\noccasionally productive of the most fatal results. Although, indeed,\nPliny spoke of the folly of the magicians in using the catanance\n(Greek: katanhankae, compulsion) for love-potions, on account of its\nshrinking \"in drying into the shape of the claws of a dead kite,\" [2] and\nso holding the patient fast; yet this primitive idea, after the lapse of\ncenturies, was as fully credited as in the early days when it was\noriginally started. Throughout the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries,\nfor instance, it is noticed in most medical works, and in many cases\ntreated with a seriousness characteristic of the backward state of\nmedical science even at a period so comparatively recent. Crollius wrote\na work on the subject; and Langham, in his \"Garden of Health,\" published\nin the year 1578, accepted the doctrine. Coles, in his \"Art of Simpling\"\n(1656), thus describes it:--\n\n \"Though sin and Satan have plunged mankind into an ocean of infirmities,\n yet the mercy of God, which is over all His workes, maketh grasse to\n growe upon the mountains and herbes for the use of men, and hath not\n only stamped upon them a distinct forme, but also given them particular\n signatures, whereby a man may read even in legible characters the use\n of them.\"\n\nJohn Ray, in his treatise on \"The Wisdom of God in Creation,\" was among\nthe first to express his disbelief of this idea, and writes:--\"As for\nthe signatures of plants, or the notes impressed upon them as notices of\ntheir virtues, some lay great stress upon them, accounting them strong\narguments to prove that some understanding principle is the highest\noriginal of the work of Nature, as indeed they were could it be\ncertainly made to appear that there were such marks designedly set upon\nthem, because all that I find mentioned by authors seem to be rather\nfancied by men than designed by Nature to signify, or point out, any\nsuch virtues, or qualities, as they would make us believe.\" His views,\nhowever, are somewhat contradictory, inasmuch as he goes on to say that,\n\"the noxious and malignant plants do, many of them, discover something\nof their nature by the sad and melancholick visage of their leaves,\nflowers, or fruit. And that I may not leave that head wholly untouched,\none observation I shall add relating to the virtues of plants, in which\nI think there is something of truth--that is, that there are of the wise\ndispensation of Providence such species of plants produced in every\ncountry as are made proper and convenient for the meat and medicine of\nthe men and animals that are bred and inhabit therein.\"\nIndeed, however much many of the botanists of bygone centuries might try\nto discredit this popular delusion, they do not seem to have been wholly\nfree from its influence themselves. Some estimate, also, of the\nprominence which the doctrine of signatures obtained may be gathered\nfrom the frequent allusions to it in the literature of the period. Thus,\nto take one illustration, the euphrasia or eye-bright (_Euphrasia\nofficinalis_), which was, and is, supposed to be good for the eye, owing\nto a black pupil-like spot in its corolla, is noticed by Milton, who, it\nmay be remembered, represents the archangel as clearing the vision of\nour first parents by its means:--\n\n  \"Then purged with euphrasy and rue\n  His visual orbs, for he had much to see.\"\n\nSpenser speaks of it in the same strain:--\n\n  \"Yet euphrasie may not be left unsung,\n  That gives dim eyes to wander leagues around.\"\n\nAnd Thomson says:--\n\n  \"If she, whom I implore, Urania, deign\n  With euphrasy to purge away the mists,\n  Which, humid, dim the mirror of the mind.\"\n\nWith reference to its use in modern times, Anne Pratt[3] tells us how,\n\"on going into a small shop in Dover, she saw a quantity of the plant\nsuspended from the ceiling, and was informed that it was gathered and\ndried as being good for weak eyes;\" and in many of our rural districts I\nlearn that the same value is still attached to it by the peasantry.\n\nAgain, it is interesting to observe how, under a variety of forms, this\npiece of superstition has prevailed in different parts of the world. By\nvirtue of a similar association of ideas, for instance, the gin-seng [4]\nwas said by the Chinese and North American Indians to possess certain\nvirtues which were deduced from the shape of the root, supposed to\nresemble the human body [5]--a plant with which may be compared our\nmandrake. The Romans of old had their rock-breaking plant called\n\"saxifraga\" or _sassafras_; [6] and we know in later times how the\ngranulated roots of our white meadow saxifrage (_Saxifraga granulata_),\nresembling small stones, were supposed to indicate its efficacy in the\ncure of calculous complaints. Hence one of its names, stonebreak. The\nstony seeds of the gromwell were, also, used in cases of stone--a plant\nformerly known as lichwale, or, as in a MS. of the fifteenth century,\nlythewale, stone-switch. [7]\n\nIn accordance, also, with the same principle it was once generally\nbelieved that the seeds of ferns were of an invisible sort, and hence,\nby a transference of properties, it came to be admitted that the\npossessor of fern-seed could likewise be invisible--a notion which\nobtained an extensive currency on the Continent. As special good-luck\nwas said to attend the individual who succeeded in obtaining this mystic\nseed, it was eagerly sought for--Midsummer Eve being one of the\noccasions when it could be most easily procured. Thus Grimm, in his\n\"Teutonic Mythology,\" [8] relates how a man in Westphalia was looking on\nMidsummer night for a foal he had lost, and happened to pass through a\nmeadow just as the fern-seed was ripening, so that it fell into his\nshoes. In the morning he went home, walked into the sitting-room and sat\ndown, but thought it strange that neither his wife nor any of the family\ntook the least notice of him. \"I have not found the foal,\" said he.\nThereupon everybody in the room started and looked alarmed, for they\nheard his voice but saw him not. His wife then called him, thinking he\nmust have hid himself, but he only replied, \"Why do you call me? Here I\nam right before you.\" At last he became aware that he was invisible,\nand, remembering how he had walked in the meadow on the preceding\nevening, it struck him that he might possibly have fern-seed in his\nshoes. So he took them off, and as he shook them the fern-seed dropped\nout, and he was no longer invisible. There are numerous stories of this\nkind; and, according to Dr. Kuhn, one method for obtaining the fern-seed\nwas, at the summer solstice, to shoot at the sun when it had attained\nits midday height. If this were done, three drops of blood would fall,\nwhich were to be gathered up and preserved--this being the fern-seed. In\nBohemia, [9] on old St. John's Night (July 8), one must lay a communion\nchalice-cloth under the fern, and collect the seed which will fall\nbefore sunrise. Among some of the scattered allusions to this piece of\nfolk-lore in the literature of our own country, may be mentioned one by\nShakespeare in \"I Henry IV.\" (ii. 1):--\n\n  \"_Gadshill_. We have the receipt of fern-seed, we walk invisible----[10]\n\n  \"_Chamberlain_. Nay, by my faith, I think you are more beholding\n  to the night than to fern-seed for your walking invisible.\"\n\n\nIn Ben Jonson's \"New Inn\" (i. 1), it is thus noticed:--\n\n                            \"I had\n  No medicine, sir, to go invisible,\n  No fern-seed in my pocket.\"\n\nBrand [11] was told by an inhabitant of Heston, in Middlesex, that when\nhe was a young man he was often present at the ceremony of catching the\nfern-seed at midnight, on the eve of St. John Baptist. The attempt was\nfrequently unsuccessful, for the seed was to fall into a plate of its\nown accord, and that too without shaking the plate. It is unnecessary to\nadd further illustrations on this point, as we have had occasion to\nspeak elsewhere of the sundry other magical properties ascribed to the\nfern-seed, whereby it has been prominently classed amongst the mystic\nplants. But, apart from the doctrine of signatures, it would seem that\nthe fern-seed was also supposed to derive its power of making invisible\nfrom the cloud, says Mr. Kelly, [12] \"that contained the heavenly fire\nfrom which the plant is sprung.\" Whilst speaking, too, of the\nfern-seed's property of making people invisible, it is of interest to\nnote that in the Icelandic and Pomeranian myths the schamir or\n\"raven-stone\" renders its possessor invisible; and according to a North\nGerman tradition the luck-flower is enbued with the same wonderful\nqualities. It is essential, however, that the flower be found by\naccident, for he who seeks it never finds it. In Sweden hazel-nuts are\nreputed to have the power of making invisible, and from their reputed\nmagical properties have been, from time immemorial, in great demand for\ndivination. All those plants whose leaves bore a fancied resemblance to\nthe moon were, in days of old, regarded with superstitious reverence.\nThe moon-daisy, the type of a class of plants resembling the pictures of\na full moon, were exhibited, says Dr. Prior, \"in uterine complaints, and\ndedicated in pagan times to the goddess of the moon.\" The moonwort\n(_Botrychium lunaria_), often confounded with the common \"honesty\"\n(_Lunaria biennis_) of our gardens, so called from the semi-lunar shape\nof the segments of its frond, was credited with the most curious\nproperties, the old alchemists affirming that it was good among other\nthings for converting quicksilver into pure silver, and unshoeing such\nhorses as trod upon it. A similar virtue was ascribed to the horse-shoe\nvetch (_Hippocrepis comosa_), so called from the shape of the legumes,\nhence another of its mystic nicknames was \"unshoe the horse.\"\n\nBut referring to the doctrine of signatures in folk-medicine, a\nfavourite garden flower is Solomon's seal (_Polygonatum multiflorum_).\nOn cutting the roots transversely, some marks are apparent not unlike\nthe characters of a seal, which to the old herbalists indicated its use\nas a seal for wounds. [13] Gerarde, describing it, tells us how, \"the\nroot of Solomon's seal stamped, while it is fresh and greene, and\napplied, taketh away in one night, or two at the most, any bruise, black\nor blue spots, gotten by falls, or women's wilfulness in stumbling upon\ntheir hasty husbands' fists.\" For the same reason it was called by the\nFrench herbalists \"l'herbe de la rupture.\" The specific name of the\ntutsan [14] (_Hypericum androsoemum_), derived from the two Greek words\nsignifying man and blood, in reference to the dark red juice which\nexudes from the capsules when bruised, was once applied to external\nwounds, and hence it was called \"balm of the warrior's wound,\" or\n\"all-heal.\" Gerarde says, \"The leaves laid upon broken skins and scabbed\nlegs heal them, and many other hurts and griefs, whereof it took its\nname 'toute-saine' of healing all things.\" The pretty plant, herb-robert\n(_Geranium robertianum_), was supposed to possess similar virtues, its\npower to arrest bleeding being indicated by the beautiful red hue\nassumed by the fading leaves, on account of which property it was styled\n\"a stauncher of blood.\" The garden Jerusalem cowslip (_Pulmonaria\noffinalis_) owes its English name, lungwort, to the spotting of the\nleaves, which were said to indicate that they would be efficacious in\nhealing diseases of the lungs. Then there is the water-soldier\n(_Stratiotes aloides_), which from its sword-shaped leaves was reckoned\namong the appliances for gun-shot wounds. Another familiar plant which\nhas long had a reputation as a vulnerary is the self-heal, or\ncarpenter's herb (_Prunella vulgaris_), on account of its corolla being\nshaped like a bill-hook.\n\nAgain, presumably on the doctrine of signatures, the connection between\nroses and blood is very curious. Thus in France, Germany, and Italy it\nis a popular notion that if one is desirous of having ruddy cheeks, he\nmust bury a drop of his blood under a rose-bush. [15] As a charm against\nhaemorrhage of every kind, the rose has long been a favourite remedy in\nGermany, and in Westphalia the following formula is employed: \"Abek,\nWabek, Fabek; in Christ's garden stand three red roses--one for the good\nGod, the other for God's blood, the third for the angel Gabriel: blood,\nI pray you, cease to flow.\" Another version of this charm is the\nfollowing [16]:--\"On the head of our Lord God there bloom three roses:\nthe first is His virtue, the second is His youth, the third is His will.\nBlood, stand thou in the wound still, so that thou neither sore nor\nabscess givest.\"\n\nTurning to some of the numerous plants which on the doctrine of\nsignatures were formerly used as specifics from a fancied resemblance,\nin the shape of the root, leaf, or fruit, to any particular part of the\nhuman body, we are confronted with a list adapted for most of the ills\nto which the flesh is heir. [17] Thus, the walnut was regarded as\nclearly good for mental cases from its bearing the signature of the\nwhole head; the outward green cortex answering to the pericranium, the\nharder shell within representing the skull, and the kernel in its figure\nresembling the cover of the brain. On this account the outside shell was\nconsidered good for wounds of the head, whilst the bark of the tree was\nregarded as a sovereign remedy for the ringworm. [18] Its leaves, too,\nwhen bruised and moistened with vinegar were used for ear-ache. For\nscrofulous glands, the knotty tubers attached to the kernel-wort\n(_Scrophularia nodosa_) have been considered efficacious. The pith of\nthe elder, when pressed with the fingers, \"doth pit and receive the\nimpress of them thereon, as the legs and feet of dropsical persons do,\"\nTherefore the juice of this tree was reckoned a cure for dropsy. Our\nLady's thistle (_Cardmis Marianus_), from its numerous prickles, was\nrecommended for stitches of the side; and nettle-tea is still a common\nremedy with many of our peasantry for nettle-rash. The leaves of the\nwood-sorrel (_Oxalis acetosella_) were believed to preserve the heart\nfrom many diseases, from their being \"broad at the ends, cut in the\nmiddle, and sharp towards the stalk.\" Similarly the heart-trefoil, or\nclover (_Medicago maculata_), was so called, because, says Coles in his\n\"Art of Simpling,\" \"not only is the leaf triangular like the heart of a\nman, but also because each leaf contains the perfect image of an heart,\nand that in its proper colour--a flesh colour. It defendeth the heart\nagainst the noisome vapour of the spleen.\" Another plant which, on the\nsame principle, was reckoned as a curative for heart-disease, is the\nheart's-ease, a term meaning a _cordial_, as in Sir Walter Scott's\n\"Antiquary\" (chap, xi.), \"try a dram to be eilding and claise, and a\nsupper and heart's-ease into the bargain.\" The knot-grass (_Polygonum\naviculare_), with its reddish-white flowers and trailing pointed stems,\nwas probably so called \"from some unrecorded character by the doctrine\nof signatures,\" Suggests Mr. Ellacombe, [19] that it would stop the\ngrowth of children. Thus Shakespeare, in his \"Midsummer Night's Dream\"\n(Act iii. sc. 2), alludes to it as the \"hindering knot-grass,\" and in\nBeaumont and Fletcher's \"Coxcomb\" (Act ii. sc. 2) it is further\nmentioned:--\n\n  \"We want a boy extremely for this function,\n  Kept under for a year with milk and knot-grass.\"\n\nAccording to Crollius, the woody scales of which the cones of the\npine-tree are composed \"resemble the fore-teeth;\" hence pine-leaves\nboiled in vinegar were used as a garlic for the relief of toothache.\nWhite-coral, from its resemblance to the teeth, was also in requisition,\nbecause \"it keepeth children to heed their teeth, their gums being\nrubbed therewith.\" For improving the complexion, an ointment made of\ncowslip-flowers was once recommended, because, as an old writer\nobserves, it \"taketh away the spots and wrinkles of the skin, and adds\nbeauty exceedingly.\" Mr. Burgess, in his handy little volume on \"English\nWild Flowers\" (1868, 47), referring to the cowslip, says, \"the village\ndamsels use it as a cosmetic, and we know it adds to the beauty of the\ncomplexion of the town-immured lassie when she searches for and gathers\nit herself in the early spring morning.\" Some of the old herbalists\nspeak of moss gathered from a skull as useful for disorders of the head,\nand hence it was gathered and preserved.\n\nThe rupture-wort (_Herniaria glabra_) was so called from its fancied\nremedial powers, and the scabious in allusion to the scaly pappus of its\nseeds, which led to its use in leprous diseases. The well-known fern,\nspleen-wort (_Asplenium_), had this name applied to it from the lobular\nform of the leaf, which suggested it as a remedy for diseases of the\nspleen. Another of its nicknames is miltwaste, because:--\n\n  \"The finger-ferne, which being given to swine,\n  It makes their milt to melt away in fine--\"\n\nA superstition which seems to have originated in a curious statement\nmade by Vitruvius, that in certain localities in the island of Crete the\nflocks and herds were found without spleen from their browsing on this\nplant, whereas in those districts in which it did not grow the reverse\nwas the case. [20]\n\nThe yellow bark of the berberry-tree (_Berberis vulgaris_), [21] when\ntaken as a decoction in ale, or white wine, is said to be a purgative,\nand to have proved highly efficacious in the case of jaundice, hence in\nsome parts of the country it is known as the \"jaundice-berry.\" Turmeric,\ntoo, was formerly prescribed--a plant used for making a yellow dye; [22]\nand celandine, with its yellow juice, was once equally in repute.\nSimilar remedies we find recommended on the Continent, and in Westphalia\nan apple mixed with saffron is a popular curative against jaundice. [23]\nRhubarb, too, we are told, by the doctrine of signatures, was the \"life,\nsoul, heart, and treacle of the liver.\" Mr. Folkard [24] mentions a\ncurious superstition which exists in the neighbourhood of Orleans, where\na seventh son without a daughter intervening is called a Marcon. It is\nbelieved that, \"the Marcon's body is marked somewhere with a\nFleur-de-Lis, and that if a patient suffering under king's-evil touch\nthis Fleur-de-Lis, or if the Marcon breathe upon him, the malady will be\nsure to disappear.\"\n\nAs shaking is one of the chief characteristics of that tedious and\nobstinate complaint ague, so there was a prevalent notion that the\nquaking-grass (_Briza media_), when dried and kept in the house, acted\nas a most powerful deterrent. For the same reason, the aspen, from its\nconstant trembling, has been held a specific for this disease. The\nlesser celandine (_Ranunculus ficaria_) is known in many country places\nas the pilewort, because its peculiar tuberous root was long thought to\nbe efficacious as a remedial agent. And Coles, in his \"Art of Simpling,\"\nspeaks of the purple marsh-wort (_Comarum palustre_) as \"an excellent\nremedy against the purples.\" The common tormentil (_Tormentilla\nofficinalis_), from the red colour of its root, was nicknamed the\n\"blood-root,\" and was said to be efficacious in dysentery; while the\nbullock's-lungwort derives its name from the resemblance of its leaf to\na dewlap, and was on this account held as a remedy for the pneumonia of\nbullocks.[25] Such is the curious old folk-lore doctrine of signatures,\nwhich in olden times was regarded with so much favour, and for a very\nlong time was recognised, without any questioning, as worthy of men's\nacceptation. It is one of those popular delusions which scientific\nresearch has scattered to the winds, having in its place discovered the\ntrue medicinal properties of plants, by the aid of chemical analysis.\n\n\nFootnotes:\n\n\n1. Pettigrew's \"Medical Superstitions,\" 1844, p. 18.\n\n2. Tylor's \"Researches into the Early History of Mankind,\" 1865, p. 123;\n   Chapiel's \"La Doctrine des Signatures,\" Paris, 1866.\n\n3. \"Flowering Plants of Great Britain,\" iv. 109; see Dr. Prior's\n   \"Popular Names of British Plants,\" 1870-72.\n\n4. Tylor's \"Researches into the Early History of Mankind,\" p. 123.\n\n5. See Porter Smith's \"Chinese Materia Medica,\" p. 103; Lockhart,\n   \"Medical Missionary in China,\" 2nd edition, p. 107; \"Reports on Trade at\n   the Treaty Ports of China,\" 1868, p. 63.\n\n6. Fiske, \"Myths and Mythmakers,\" 1873, p. 43.\n\n7. Dr. Prior's \"Popular Names of British Plants,\" p. 134.\n\n8. See Kelly's \"Indo-European Tradition Folk-lore,\" 1863, pp. 193-198;\n   Ralston's \"Russian Folk-Songs,\" 1872, p. 98.\n\n9. \"Mystic Trees and Flowers,\" Mr. D. Conway, _Frasers Magazine_, Nov.\n    1870, p. 608.\n\n10. The \"receipt,\" so called, was the formula of magic words to be\n    employed during the process. See Grindon's \"Shakspere Flora,\" 1883,\n    p. 242.\n\n11. \"Popular Antiquities,\" 1849, i. 315.\n\n12. \"Indo-European Tradition and Folk-lore,\" p. 197.\n\n13. See Dr. Prior's \"Popular Names of British Plants,\" p. 130; Phillips'\n   \"Flora Historica,\" i. 163.\n\n14. See Sowerby's \"English Botany,\" 1864, i., p. 144.\n\n15. See \"Folk-lore of British Plants,\" _Dublin University Magazine_,\n    September 1873, p. 318.\n\n15. See Thorpe's \"Northern Mythology,\" 1852, iii. 168.\n\n17. \"Sketches of Imposture, Deception, and Credulity,\" 1837, p. 300.\n\n18. See Phillips' \"Pomarium Britannicum,\" 1821, p. 351.\n\n19. \"Plant-lore of Shakespeare,\" 1878, p. 101.\n\n20. See Dr. Prior's \"Popular Names of British Plants,\" p. 154.\n\n21. Hogg's \"Vegetable Kingdom,\" p. 34.\n\n22. See Friend's \"Flowers and Flower-lore,\" ii. 355.\n\n23. \"Mystic Trees and Flowers,\" _Fraser's Magazine_, November 1870, p. 591.\n\n24. \"Plant Lore Legends and Lyrics,\" p. 341.\n\n25. _Ibid_., pp, 150-160.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\nPLANTS AND THE CALENDAR.\n\n\nA goodly array of plants have cast their attractions round the festivals\nof the year, giving an outward beauty to the ceremonies and observances\ncelebrated in their honour. These vary in different countries, although\nwe frequently find the same flower almost universally adopted to\ncommemorate a particular festival. Many plants, again, have had a\nsuperstitious connection, having in this respect exercised a powerful\ninfluence among the credulous of all ages, numerous survivals of which\nexist at the present day. Thus, in Westphalia, it is said that if the\nsun makes its appearance on New Year's Day, the flax will be straight;\nand there is a belief current in Hessia, that an apple must not be eaten\non New Year's Day, as it will produce an abscess.\n\nAccording to an old adage, the laurestinus, dedicated to St. Faine\n(January 1), an Irish abbess in the sixth century, may be seen\nin bloom:--\n\n  \"Whether the weather be snow or rain,\n  We are sure to see the flower of St. Faine;\n  Rain comes but seldom and often snow,\n  And yet the viburnum is sure to blow.\"\n\nAnd James Montgomery notices this cheerful plant, speaking of it as the,\n\n  \"Fair tree of winter, fresh and flowering,\n  When all around is dead and dry,\n  Whose ruby buds, though storms are lowering,\n  Spread their white blossoms to the sky.\"\n\nThen there is the dead nettle, which in Italy is assigned to St.\nVincent; and the Christmas rose (_Helleboris niger_), dedicated to St.\nAgnes (21st January), is known in Germany as the flower of St. Agnes,\nand yet this flower has generally been regarded a plant of evil omen,\nbeing coupled by Campbell with the hemlock, as growing \"by the witches'\ntower,\" where it seems to weave,\n\n  \"Round its dark vaults a melancholy bower,\n  For spirits of the dead at night's enchanted hour.\"\n\nAt Candlemas it was customary, writes Herrick, to replace the Christmas\nevergreens with sprigs of box, which were kept up till Easter Eve:--\n\n  \"Down with the rosemary and bays,\n  Down with the mistletoe,\n  Instead of holly now upraise\n  The greener box for show.\"\n\nThe snowdrop has been nicknamed the \"Fair Maid of February,\" from its\nblossoming about this period, when it was customary for young women\ndressed in white to walk in procession at the Feast of the Purification,\nand, according to the old adage:--\n\n  \"The snowdrop in purest white array,\n  First rears her head on Candlemas Day.\"\n\nThe dainty crocus is said to blow \"before the shrine at vernal dawn of\nSt. Valentine.\" And we may note here how county traditions affirm that\nin some mysterious way the vegetable world is affected by leap-year\ninfluences. A piece of agricultural folk-lore current throughout the\ncountry tells us how all the peas and beans grow the wrong way in their\npods, the seeds being set in quite the contrary to what they are in\nother years. The reason assigned for this strange freak of nature is\nthat, \"it is the ladies' year, and they (the peas and beans) always lay\nthe wrong way in leap year.\"\n\nThe leek is associated with St. David's Day, the adoption of this plant\nas the national device of Wales having been explained in various ways.\nAccording to Shakespeare it dates from the battle of Cressy, while some\nhave maintained it originated in a victory obtained by Cadwallo over the\nSaxons, 640, when the Welsh, to distinguish themselves, wore leeks in\ntheir hats. It has also beeen suggested that Welshmen \"beautify their\nhats with verdant leek,\" from the custom of every farmer, in years gone\nby, contributing his leek to the common repast when they met at the\nCymortha or Association, and mutually helped one another in ploughing\ntheir land.\n\nIn Ireland the shamrock is worn on St. Patrick's Day. Old women, with\nplenteous supplies of trefoil, may be heard in every direction crying,\n\"Buy my shamrock, green shamrocks,\" while little children have\n\"Patrick's crosses\" pinned to their sleeves, a custom which is said to\nhave originated in the circumstance that when St. Patrick was preaching\nthe doctrine of the Trinity he made use of the trefoil as a symbol of\nthe great mystery. Several plants have been identified as the shamrock;\nand in \"Contributions towards a Cybele Hibernica,\" [1] is the following\nextensive note:--\"_Trifolium repens_, Dutch clover, shamrock.--This is\nthe plant still worn as shamrock on St. Patrick's Day, though _Medicago\nlupulina_ is also sold in Dublin as the shamrock. Edward Lhwyd, the\ncelebrated antiquary, writing in 1699 to Tancred Robinson, says, after a\nrecent visit to Ireland: 'Their shamrug is our common clover' (_Phil.\nTrans._, No. 335). Threkeld, the earliest writer on the wild plants of\nIreland, gives _Seamar-oge_ (young trefoil) as the Gaelic name for\n_Trifolium pratense album,_ and expressly says this is the plant worn by\nthe people in their hats on St. Patrick's Day.\" Some, again, have\nadvocated the claims of the wood-sorrel, and others those of the\nspeedwell, whereas a correspondent of _Notes and Queries_ (4th Ser. iii.\n235) says the _Trifolium filiforme_ is generally worn in Cork, the\n_Trifolium minus_ also being in demand. It has been urged that the\nwatercress was the plant gathered by the saint, but this plant has been\nobjected to on the ground that its leaf is not trifoliate, and could not\nhave been used by St. Patrick to illustrate the doctrine of the Trinity.\nOn the other hand, it has been argued that the story is of modern date,\nand not to be found in any of the lives of that saint. St. Patrick's\ncabbage also is a name for \"London Pride,\" from its growing in the West\nof Ireland, where the Saint lived.\n\nFew flowers have been more popular than the daffodil or lent-lily, or,\nas it is sometimes called, the lent-rose. There are various corruptions\nof this name to be found in the West of England, such as lentils,\nlent-a-lily, lents, and lent-cocks; the last name doubtless referring to\nthe custom of cock-throwing, which was allowed in Lent, boys, in the\nabsence of live cocks, having thrown sticks at the flower. According\nalso to the old rhyme:--\n\n  \"Then comes the daffodil beside\n  Our Lady's smock at our Lady's tide.\"\n\nIn Catholic countries Lent cakes were flavoured with the herb-tansy, a\nplant dedicated to St. Athanasius.\n\nIn Silesia, on Mid-Lent Sunday, pine boughs, bound with variegated paper\nand spangles, are carried about by children singing songs, and are hung\nover the stable doors to keep the animals from evil influences.\n\nPalm Sunday receives its English and the greater part of its foreign\nnames from the old practice of bearing palm-branches, in place of which\nthe early catkins of the willow or yew have been substituted, sprigs of\nbox being used in Brittany.\n\nStow, in his \"Survey of London,\" tells us that:--\"In the weeke before\nEaster had ye great shows made for the fetching in of a twisted tree or\nwith, as they termed it, out of the wodes into the king's house, and the\nlike into every man's house of honour of worship.\" This anniversary has\nalso been nicknamed \"Fig Sunday,\" from the old custom of eating figs;\nwhile in Wales it is popularly known as \"Flowering Sunday,\" because\npersons assemble in the churchyard and spread fresh flowers upon the\ngraves of their friends and relatives.\n\nIn Germany, on Palm Sunday, the palm is credited with mystic virtues;\nand if as many twigs, as there are women of a family, be thrown on a\nfire--each with a name inscribed on it--the person whose leaf burns\nsoonest will be the first to die.\n\nOn Good Friday, in the North of England, an herb pudding was formerly\neaten, in which the leaves of the passion-dock (_Polygonum bistorta_)\nformed the principal ingredient. In Lancashire fig-sue is made, a\nmixture consisting of sliced figs, nutmeg, ale, and bread.\n\nWreaths of elder are hung up in Germany after sunset on Good Friday, as\ncharms against lightning; and in Swabia a twig of hazel cut on this day\nenables the possessor to strike an absent person. In the Tyrol, too, the\nhazel must be cut on Good Friday to be effectual as a divining-rod. A\nBohemian charm against fleas is curious. During Holy Week a leaf of palm\nmust be placed behind a picture of the Virgin, and on Easter morning\ntaken down with this formula: \"Depart, all animals without bones.\" If\nthis rite is observed there will be no more fleas in the house for the\nremainder of the year.\n\nOf the flowers associated with Eastertide may be mentioned the garden\ndaffodil and the purple pasque flower, another name for the anemone\n(_Anemone pulsatilla_), in allusion to the Passover and Paschal\nceremonies. White broom is also in request, and indeed all white flowers\nare dedicated to this festival. On Easter Day the Bavarian peasants make\ngarlands of coltsfoot and throw them into the fire; and in the district\nof Lechrain every household brings to the sacred fire which is lighted\nat Easter a walnut branch, which, when partially burned, is laid on the\nhearth-fire during tempests as a charm against lightning. In Slavonian\nregions the palm is supposed to specially protect the locality where it\ngrows from inclement weather and its hurtful effects; while, in\nPomerania, the apple is eaten against fevers.\n\nIn Bareuth young girls go at midnight on Easter Day to a fountain\nsilently, and taking care to escape notice, throw into the water little\nwillow rings with their friends' names inscribed thereon, the person\nwhose ring sinks the quickest being the first to die.\n\nIn years past the milkwort (_Polygala vulgaris_), from being carried in\nprocession during Rogation Week, was known by such names as the\nrogation-flower, gang-flower, procession-flower, and cross-flower, a\ncustom noticed by Gerarde, who tells us how, \"the maidens which use in\nthe countries to walke the procession do make themselves garlands and\nnosegaies of the milkwort.\"\n\nOn Ascension Day the Swiss make wreaths of the edelweisse, hanging them\nover their doors and windows; another plant selected for this purpose\nbeing the amaranth, which, like the former, is considered an emblem of\nimmortality.\n\nIn our own country may be mentioned the well-dressing of Tissington,\nnear Dovedale, in Derbyshire, the wells in the village having for years\npast been most artistically decorated with the choicest flowers. [2]\n\nFormerly, on St. George's Day (April 23), blue coats were worn by people\nof fashion. Hence, the harebell being in bloom, was assigned to\nthe saint:--\n\n  \"On St. George's Day, when blue is worn,\n  The blue harebells the fields adorn.\"\n\nFlowers have always entered largely into the May Day festival; and many\na graphic account has been bequeathed us of the enthusiasm with which\nboth old and young went \"a-Maying\" soon after midnight, breaking down\nbranches from the trees, which, decorated with nosegays and garlands of\nflowers, were brought home soon after sunrise and placed at the doors\nand windows. Shakespeare (\"Henry VIII.,\" v. 4), alluding to the\ncustom, says:--\n\n                    \"'Tis as much impossible,\n  Unless we sweep them from the doors with cannons,\n  To scatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em sleep\n  On May Day morning.\"\n\nAccordingly, flowers were much in demand, many being named from the\nmonth itself, as the hawthorn, known in many places as May-bloom and\nMay-tree, whereas the lily of the valley is nicknamed May-lily. Again,\nin Cornwall lilac is termed May-flower, and the narrow-leaved elm, which\nis worn by the peasant in his hat or button-hole, is called May.\nSimilarly, in Germany, we find the term May-bloom applied to such plants\nas the king-cup and lily of the valley. In North America, says the\nauthor of \"Flower-lore,\" the podophyllum is called \"May-apple,\" and the\nfruit of the _Passiflora incarnata_ \"May-hops.\" The chief uses of these\nMay-flowers were for the garlands, the decoration of the Maypole, and\nthe adornment of the home:--\n\n  \"To get sweet setywall (red valerian),\n  The honeysuckle, the harlock,\n  The lily, and the lady-smock,\n      To deck their summer hall.\"\n\nBut one plant was carefully avoided--the cuckoo flower.[3] As in other\nfloral rites, the selection of plants varies on the Continent, branches\nof the elder being carried about in Savoy, and in Austrian Silesia the\nMaypole is generally made of fir. According to an Italian proverb, the\nuniversal lover is \"one who hangs every door with May.\"\n\nVarious plants are associated with Whitsuntide, and according to\nChaucer, in his \"Romaunt of the Rose\":--\n\n  \"Have hatte of floures fresh as May,\n  Chapelett of roses of Whitsunday,\n  For sich array be costeth but lite.\"\n\nIn Italy the festival is designated \"Pasqua Rosata,\" from falling at a\ntime when roses are in bloom, while in Germany the peony is the\nPentecost rose.\n\nHerrick tells us it was formerly the practice to use birch and\nspring-flowers for decorative purposes at Whitsuntide:--\n\n\n  \"When yew is out then birch comes in,\n  And May-flowers beside,\n  Both of a fresh and fragrant kinne,\n  To honour Whitsontide.\"\n\nAt this season, too, box-boughs were gathered to deck the large open\nfire-places then in fashion, and the guelder rose was dedicated to the\nfestival. Certain flower-sermons have been preached in the city at\nWhitsuntide, as, for instance, that at St. James's Church, Mitre Court,\nAldgate, and another at St. Leonard's Church, Shoreditch, known as the\nFairchild Lecture. Turning to the Continent, it is customary in Hanover\non Whit-Monday to gather the lily of the valley, and at the close of the\nday there is scarcely a house without a large bouquet, while in Germany\nthe broom is a favourite plant for decorations. In Russia, at the\ncompletion of Whitsuntide, young girls repair to the banks of the Neva\nand cast in wreaths of flowers in token of their absent friends.\n\nCertain flowers, such as the rose, lavender, woodruff, and box were\nformerly in request for decking churches on St. Barnabas' Day, the\nofficiating clergy having worn wreaths of roses. Among the allusions to\nthe usage may be mentioned the following entries in the churchwarden's\naccounts of St. Mary-at-Hill, London, in the reigns of Edward IV. and\nHenry VII.:--\"For rose garlondis and woodrolf garlondis on St. Barnabe\nDaye, xj'd.\" \"Item, for two doss (dozen?) di bocse (box) garlands for\nprestes and clerkes on St. Barnabe Day, j's. v'd.\"\n\nSt. Barnabas' thistle (_Centaurea solstitialis_) derived its name from\nflowering at the time of the saint's festival, and we are told how:--\n\n  \"When St. Barnaby bright smiles night and day,\n  Poor ragged robin blooms in the hay.\"\n\nTo Trinity Sunday belong the pansy, or herb-trinity and trefoil, hence\nthe latter has been used for decorations on this anniversary.\n\nIn commemoration of the Restoration of Charles II., oak leaves and\ngilded oak apples have been worn; oak branches having been in past years\nplaced over doors and windows.\n\nStowe, in his \"Survey of London,\" speaks of the old custom of hanging up\nSt. John's wort over the doors of houses, along with green birch or\npine, white lilies, and other plants. The same practice has existed very\nlargely on the Continent, St. John's wort being still regarded as an\neffective charm against witchcraft. Indeed, few plants have been in\ngreater request on any anniversary, or been invested with such mystic\nvirtues. Fennel, another of the many plants dedicated to St. John, was\nhung over doors and windows on his night in England, numerous allusions\nto which occur in the literature of the past. And in connection with\nthis saint we are told how:--\n\n  \"The scarlet lychnis, the garden's pride,\n  Flames at St. John the Baptist's tyde.\"\n\nHemp was also in demand, many forms of divination having been practised\nby means of its seed.\n\nAccording to a belief in Iceland, the trijadent (_Spiraea ulmaria_)\nwill, if put under water on this day, reveal a thief; floating if the\nthief be a woman, and sinking if a man.\n\nIn the Harz, on Midsummer night, branches of the fir-tree are decorated\nwith flowers and coloured eggs, around which the young people dance,\nsinging rhymes. The Bolognese, who regard garlic as the symbol of\nabundance, buy it at the festival as a charm against poverty during the\ncoming year. The Bohemian, says Mr. Conway, \"thinks he can make himself\nshot-proof for twenty-four hours by finding on St. John's Day pine-cones\non the top of a tree, taking them home, and eating a single kernel on\neach day that he wishes to be invulnerable.\" In Sicily it is customary,\non Midsummer Eve, to fell the highest poplar, and with shouts to drag it\nthrough the village, while some beat a drum. Around this poplar, says\nMr. Folkard,[4] \"symbolising the greatest solar ascension and the\ndecline which follows it, the crowd dance, and sing an appropriate\nrefrain;\" and he further mentions that, at the commencement of the\nFranco-German War, he saw sprigs of pine stuck on the railway carriages\nbearing the German soldiers into France.\n\nIn East Prussia, the sap of dog-wood, absorbed in a handkerchief, will\nfulfil every wish; and a Brandenburg remedy for fever is to lie naked\nunder a cherry-tree on St. John's Day, and to shake the dew on one's\nback. Elsewhere we have alluded to the flowering of the fern on this\nanniversary, and there is the Bohemian idea that its seed shines like\nglittering gold.\n\nCorpus Christi Day was, in olden times, observed with much ceremony, the\nchurches being decorated with roses and other choice garlands, while the\nstreets through which the procession passed were strewn with flowers. In\nNorth Wales, flowers were scattered before the door; and a particular\nfern, termed Rhedyn Mair, or Mary's fern--probably the maiden-hair--was\nspecially used for the purpose.\n\nWe may mention here that the daisy (_Bellis perennis_) was formerly\nknown as herb-Margaret or Marguerite, and was erroneously supposed to\nhave been named after the virtuous St. Margaret of Antioch:--\n\n  \"Maid Margarete, that was so meek and mild;\"\n\nWhereas it, in all probability, derives its name from St. Margaret of\nCortona. According to an old legend it is stated:--\n\n  \"There is a double flouret, white and red,\n  That our lasses call herb-Margaret,\n  In honour of Cortona's penitent,\n  Whose contrite soul with red remorse was rent;\n  While on her penitence kind heaven did throw\n  The white of purity, surpassing snow;\n  So white and red in this fair flower entwine,\n  Which maids are wont to scatter at her shrine.\"\n\nAgain, of the rainy saint, St. Swithin, we are reminded that:--\n\n  \"Against St. Swithin's hastie showers,\n  The lily white reigns queen of the flowers\"--\n\nA festival around which so much curious lore has clustered.\n\nIn former years St. Margaret's Day (July 20) was celebrated with many\ncurious ceremonies, and, according to a well-known couplet in allusion\nto the emblem of the vanquished dragon, which appears in most pictures\nof St. Margaret:--\n\n  \"Poppies a sanguine mantle spread\n  For the blood of the dragon that Margaret shed.\"\n\nArchdeacon Hare says the Sweet-William, designated the \"painted lady,\"\nwas dedicated to Saint William (June 25), the term \"sweet\" being a\nsubstitution for \"saint.\" This seems doubtful, and some would corrupt\nthe word \"sweet\" from the French _oeillet_, corrupted to Willy, and\nthence to William. Mr. King, however, considers that the small red pink\n(_Dianthus prolifer_), found wild in the neighbourhood of Rochester, \"is\nperhaps the original Saint Sweet-William,\" for, he adds, the word\n\"saint\" has only been dropped since days which saw the demolition of St.\nWilliam's shrine in the cathedral. This is but a conjecture, it being\nuncertain whether the masses of bright flowers which form one of the\nchief attractions of old-fashioned gardens commemorate St. William of\nRochester, St. William of York, or, likeliest perhaps of the three, St.\nWilliam of Aquitaine, the half soldier, half monk, whose fame was so\nwidely spread throughout the south of Europe.\n\nRoses were said to fade on St. Mary Magdalene's Day (July 20), to whom\nwe find numerous flowers dedicated, such as the maudlin, a nickname of\nthe costmary, either in allusion to her love of scented ointment, or to\nits use in uterine affections, over which she presided as the patroness\nof unchaste women, and maudlin-wort, another name for the moon-daisy.\nBut, as Dr. Prior remarks, it should, \"be observed that the monks in the\nMiddle Ages mixed up with the story of the Magdalene that of another St.\nMary, whose early life was passed in a course of debauchery.\"\n\nA German piece of folk-lore tells us that it is dangerous to climb a\ncherry-tree on St. James's Night, as the chance of breaking one's neck\nwill be great, this day being held unlucky. On this day is kept St.\nChristopher's anniversary, after whom the herb-christopher is named, a\nspecies of aconite, according to Gerarde. But, as Dr. Prior adds, the\nname is applied to many plants which have no qualities in common, some\nof these being the meadow-sweet, fleabane, osmund-fern, herb-impious,\neverlasting-flower, and baneberry.\n\nThroughout August, during the ingathering of the harvest, a host of\ncustoms have been kept up from time immemorial, which have been duly\nnoticed by Brand, while towards the close of the month we are reminded\nof St. Bartholomew's Day by the gaudy sunflower, which has been\nnicknamed St. Bartholomew's star, the term \"star\" having been often used\n\"as an emblematical representation of brilliant virtues or any sign of\nadmiration.\" It is, too, suggested by Archdeacon Hare that the filbert\nmay owe its name to St. Philbert, whose festival was on the 22nd August.\n\nThe passion-flower has been termed Holy Rood flower, and it is the\necclesiastical emblem of Holy Cross Day, for, according to the\nfamiliar couplet:--\n\n  \"The passion-flower long has blow'd\n  To betoken us signs of the Holy Rood.\"\n\nThen there is the Michaelmas Day, which:--\n\n                        \"Among dead weeds,\n  Bloom for St. Michael's valorous deeds,\"\n\nand the golden star lily, termed St. Jerome's lily. On St. Luke's Day,\ncertain flowers, as we have already noticed, have been in request for\nlove divinations; and on the Continent the chestnut is eaten on the\nfestival of St. Simon, in Piedmont on All Souls' Day, and in France on\nSt. Martin's, when old women assemble beneath the windows and sing a\nlong ballad. Hallowe'en has its use among divinations, at which time\nvarious plants are in request, and among the observance of All Souls'\nDay was blessing the beans. It would appear, too, that in days gone by,\non the eve of All Saints' Day, heath was specially burnt by way of a\nbonfire:--\n\n  \"On All Saints' Day bare is the place where the heath is burnt;\n  The plough is in the furrow, the ox at work.\"\n\nFrom the shape of its flower, the trumpet-flowered wood-sorrel has been\ncalled St. Cecilia's flower, whose festival is kept on November 22. The\n_Nigella damascena_, popularly known as love-in-a-mist, was designated\nSt. Catherine's flower, \"from its persistent styles,\" writes Dr.\nPrior,[5] \"resembling the spokes of her wheel.\" There was also the\nCatherine-pear, to which Gay alludes in his \"Pastorals,\" where\nSparabella, on comparing herself with her rival, says:--\n\n  \"Her wan complexion's like the withered leek,\n  While Catherine-pears adorn my ruddy cheek.\"\n\nHerb-Barbara, or St. Barbara's cress (_Barbarea vulgaris_), was so\ncalled from growing and being eaten about the time of her festival\n(December 4).\n\nComing to Christmas, some of the principal evergreens used in this\ncountry for decorative purposes are the ivy, laurel, bay, arbor vitae,\nrosemary, and holly; mistletoe, on account of its connection with\nDruidic rites, having been excluded from churches. Speaking of the\nholly, Mr. Conway remarks that, \"it was to the ancient races of the north\na sign of the life which preserved nature through the desolation of\nwinter, and was gathered into pagan temples to comfort the sylvan\nspirits during the general death.\" He further adds that \"it is a\nsingular fact that it is used by the wildest Indians of the Pacific\ncoast in their ceremonies of purification. The ashen-faggot was in\nrequest for the Christmas fire, the ceremonies relating to which are\nwell known.\"\n\n\nFootnotes:\n\n\n1. By D. Moore and A.G. Moore, 1866.\n\n2. See \"Journal of the Arch. Assoc.,\" 1832, vii. 206.\n\n3. See \"British Popular Customs.\"\n\n4. \"Plant Lore Legends and Lyrics,\" p. 504.\n\n5. \"Popular Names of British Plants,\" 1879, p. 204.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\nCHILDREN'S RHYMES AND GAMES.\n\n\nChildren are more or less observers of nature, and frequently far more\nso than their elders. This, perhaps, is in a great measure to be\naccounted for from the fact that childhood is naturally inquisitive, and\nfond of having explained whatever seems in any way mysterious. Such\nespecially is the case in the works of nature, and in a country ramble\nwith children their little voices are generally busy inquiring why this\nbird does this, or that plant grows in such a way--a variety of\nquestions, indeed, which unmistakably prove that the young mind\ninstinctively seeks after knowledge. Hence, we find that the works of\nnature enter largely into children's pastimes; a few specimens of their\nrhymes and games associated with plants we quote below.\n\nIn Lincolnshire, the butter-bur (_Petasites vulgaris_) is nicknamed\nbog-horns, because the children use the hollow stalks as horns or\ntrumpets, and the young leaves and shoots of the common hawthorn\n(_Cratoegus oxyacantha_), from being commonly eaten by children in\nspring, are known as \"bread and cheese;\" while the ladies-smock\n(_Cardamine pratensis_) is termed \"bread and milk,\" from the custom, it\nhas been suggested, of country people having bread and milk for\nbreakfast about the season when the flower first comes in. In the North\nof England this plant is known as cuckoo-spit, because almost every\nflower stem has deposited upon it a frothy patch not unlike human\nsaliva, in which is enveloped a pale green insect. Few north-country\nchildren will gather these flowers, believing that it is unlucky to do\nso, adding that the cuckoo has spit upon it when flying over. [1]\n\nThe fruits of the mallow are popularly termed by children cheeses, in\nallusion to which Clare writes:--\n\n  \"The sitting down when school was o'er,\n  Upon the threshold of the door,\n  Picking from mallows, sport to please,\n  The crumpled seed we call a cheese.\"\n\nA Buckinghamshire name with children for the deadly nightshade (_Atropa\nbelladonna_) is the naughty-man's cherry, an illustration of which we\nmay quote from Curtis's \"Flora Londinensis\":--\"On Keep Hill, near High\nWycombe, where we observed it, there chanced to be a little boy. I asked\nhim if he knew the plant. He answered 'Yes; it was naughty-man's\ncherries.'\" In the North of England the broad-dock (_Rumex\nobtusifolius_), when in seed, is known by children as curly-cows, who\nmilk it by drawing the stalks through their fingers. Again, in the same\nlocality, children speaking of the dead-man's thumb, one of the popular\nnames of the _Orchis mascula_, tell one another with mysterious awe that\nthe root was once the thumb of some unburied murderer. In one of the\n\"Roxburghe Ballads\" the phrase is referred to:--\n\n  \"Then round the meadows did she walke,\n  Catching each flower by the stalke,\n  Suche as within the meadows grew,\n  As dead-man's thumbs and harebell blue.\"\n\nIt is to this plant that Shakespeare doubtless alludes in \"Hamlet\" (Act\niv. sc. 7), where:--\n\n                             \"Long purples\n  That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,\n  But our cold maids do dead-men's fingers call them.\"\n\nIn the south of Scotland, the name \"doudle,\" says Jamieson, is applied\nto the root of the common reed-grass (_Phragmites communis_), which is\nfound, partially decayed, in morasses, and of \"which the children in the\nsouth of Scotland make a sort of musical instrument, similar to the\noaten pipes of the ancients.\" In Yorkshire, the water-scrophularia\n(_Scrophularia aquatica_), is in children's language known as\n\"fiddle-wood,\" so called because the stems are by children stripped of\ntheir leaves, and scraped across each other fiddler-fashion, when they\nproduce a squeaking sound. This juvenile music is the source of infinite\namusement among children, and is carried on by them with much enthusiasm\nin their games. Likewise, the spear-thistle (_Carduus lanceolatus_) is\ndesignated Marian in Scotland, while children blow the pappus from the\nreceptacle, saying:--\n\n  \"Marian, Marian, what's the time of day,\n  One o'clock, two o'clock--it's time we were away.\"\n\nIn Cheshire, when children first see the heads of the ribwort plantain\n(_Plantago lanceolata_) in spring, they repeat the following rhyme:--\n\n\"Chimney sweeper all in black,\n  Go to the brook and wash your back,\n  Wash it clean, or wash it none;\n  Chimney sweeper, have you done?\":--\n\nBeing in all probability a mode of divination for insuring good luck.\nAnother name for the same plant is \"cocks,\" from children fighting the\nflower-stems one against another.\n\nThe common hazel-nut (_Corylus avellana_) is frequently nicknamed the\n\"cob-nut,\" and was so called from being used in an old game played by\nchildren. An old name for the devil's-bit (_Scabiosa succisa_), in the\nnorthern counties, and in Scotland, is \"curl-doddy,\" from the\nresemblance of the head of flowers to the curly pate of a boy, this\nnickname being often used by children who thus address the plant:--\n\n  \"Curly-doddy, do my biddin',\n  Soop my house, and shoal my widden'.\"\n\nIn Ireland, children twist the stalk, and as it slowly untwists in the\nhand, thus address it:--\n\n  \"Curl-doddy on the midden,\n  Turn round an' take my biddin'.\"\n\nIn Cumberland, the _Primula farinosa_, commonly known as bird's-eye, is\ncalled by children \"bird-een.\"\n\n  \"The lockety-gowan and bonny bird-een\n    Are the fairest flowers that ever were seen.\"\n\nAnd in many places the _Leontodon taraxacum_ is designated \"blow-ball,\"\nbecause children blow the ripe fruit from the receptacle to tell the\ntime of day and for various purposes of divination. Thus in the \"Sad\nShepherd,\" page 8, it is said:--\n\n  \"Her treading would not bend a blade of grass,\n  Or shake the downy blow-ball from his stalk.\"\n\nIn Scotland, one of the popular names of the _Angelica sylvestris_ is\n\"aik-skeiters,\" or \"hear-skeiters,\" because children shoot oats through\nthe hollow stems, as peas are shot through a pea-shooter. Then there is\nthe goose-grass (_Galium aparine_), variously called goose-bill,\nbeggar's-lice, scratch-weed, and which has been designated blind-tongue,\nbecause \"children with the leaves practise phlebotomy upon the tongue of\nthose playmates who are simple enough to endure it,\" a custom once very\ngeneral in Scotland. [2]\n\nThe catkins of the willow are in some counties known as \"goslings,\" or\n\"goslins,\"--children, says Halliwell, [3] sometimes playing with them by\nputting them in the fire and singeing them brown, repeating verses at\nthe same time. One of the names of the heath-pea (_Lathyrus\nmacrorrhizus_) is liquory-knots, and school-boys in Berwickshire so\ncall them, for when dried their taste is not unlike that of the real\nliquorice. [4] Again, a children's name of common henbane (_Hyoscyamus\nniger_) is \"loaves of bread,\" an allusion to which is made by Clare in\nhis \"Shepherd's Calendar\":--\n\n      \"Hunting from the stack-yard sod\n  The stinking henbane's belted pod,\n  By youth's warm fancies sweetly led\n  To christen them his loaves of bread.\"\n\nA Worcestershire name for a horse-chestnut is the \"oblionker tree.\"\nAccording to a correspondent of _Notes and Queries_ (5th Ser. x. 177),\nin the autumn, when the chestnuts are falling from their trunks, boys\nthread them on string and play a \"cob-nut\" game with them. When the\nstriker is taking aim, and preparing for a shot at his adversary's nut,\nhe says:--\n\n  \"Oblionker!\n  My first conker (conquer).\"\n\nThe word oblionker apparently being a meaningless invention to rhyme\nwith the word conquer, which has by degrees become applied to the\nfruit itself.\n\nThe wall peniterry (_Parietaria officinalis_) is known in Ireland as\n\"peniterry,\" and is thus described in \"Father Connell, by the O'Hara\nFamily\" (chap, xii.):--\n\n\"A weed called, locally at least, peniterry, to which the suddenly\nterrified [schoolboy] idler might run in his need, grasping it hard and\nthreateningly, and repeating the following 'words of power':--\n\n  'Peniterry, peniterry, that grows by the wall,\n  Save me from a whipping, or I'll pull you roots and all.'\"\n\nJohnston, who has noticed so many odd superstitions, tells us that the\ntuberous ground-nut (_Bunium flexuosum_), which has various nicknames,\nsuch as \"lousy,\" \"loozie,\" or \"lucie arnut,\" is dug up by children who\neat the roots, \"but they are hindered from indulging to excess by a\ncherished belief that the luxury tends to generate vermin in the\nhead.\" [5]\n\nAn old rhyme often in years past used by country children when the\ndaffodils made their annual appearance in early spring, was as\nfollows:--\n\n  \"Daff-a-down-dill\n    Has now come to town,\n  In a yellow petticoat\n    And a green gown.\"\n\nA name for the shepherd's purse is \"mother's-heart,\" and in the eastern\nBorder district, says Johnston, children have a sort of game with the\nseed-pouch. They hold it out to their companions, inviting them to \"take\na haud o' that.\" It immediately cracks, and then follows a triumphant\nshout, \"You've broken your mother's heart.\" In Northamptonshire,\nchildren pick the leaves of the herb called pick-folly, one by one,\nrepeating each time the words, \"Rich man, poor man, beggar-man, thief,\"\n&c., fancying that the one which comes to be named at the last plucking\nwill prove the conditions of their future partners. Variations of this\ncustom exist elsewhere, and a correspondent of \"Science Gossip\" (1876,\nxi. 94). writes:--\"I remember when at school at Birmingham that my\nplaymates manifested a very great repugnance to this plant. Very few of\nthem would touch it, and it was known to us by the two bad names,\n\"haughty-man's plaything,\" and \"pick your mother's heart out.\" In\nHanover, as well as in the Swiss canton of St. Gall, the same plant is\noffered to uninitiated persons with a request to pluck one of the pods.\nShould he do so the others exclaim, \"You have stolen a purse of gold\nfrom your father and mother.\"\" \"It is interesting to find,\" writes Mr.\nBritten in the \"Folk-lore Record\" (i. 159), \"that a common tropical\nweed, _Ageratum conyzoides_, is employed by children in Venezuela in a\nvery similar manner.\"\n\nThe compilers of the \"Dictionary of Plant Names\" consider that the\ndouble (garden) form of _Saxifraga granulata_, designated \"pretty\nmaids,\" may be referred to in the old nursery rhyme:--\n\n  \"Mary, Mary, quite contrary,\n    How does your garden grow?\n  Cockle-shells, and silver bells,\n    And pretty maids all in a row.\"\n\nThe old-man's-beard (_Clematis vitalba_) is in many places popularly\nknown as smoke-wood, because \"our village-boys smoke pieces of the wood\nas they do of rattan cane; hence, it is sometimes called smoke-wood, and\nsmoking-cane.\" [6]\n\nThe children of Galloway play at hide-and-seek with a little\nblack-topped flower which is known by them as the Davie-drap, meantime\nrepeating the following rhyme:--\n\n  \"Within the bounds of this I hap\n  My black and bonnie Davie-drap:\n  Wha is he, the cunning ane,\n  To me my Davie-drap will fin'?\"\n\nThis plant, it has been suggested, [7] being the cuckoo grass (_Luzula\ncampestris_), which so often figures in children's games and rhymes.\n\nOnce more, there are numerous games played by children in which certain\nflowers are introduced, as in the following, known as \"the three\nflowers,\" played in Scotland, and thus described in Chambers's \"Popular\nRhymes,\" p. 127:--\"A group of lads and lasses being assembled round the\nfire, two leave the party and consult together as to the names of three\nothers, young men or girls, whom they designate as the red rose, the\npink, and the gillyflower. The two young men then return, and having\nselected a member of the fairer group, they say to her:--\n\n   'My mistress sent me unto thine,\n   Wi' three young flowers baith fair and fine:--\n   The pink, the rose, and the gillyflower,\n     And as they here do stand,\n   Whilk will ye sink, whilk will ye swim,\n     And whilk bring hame to land?'\n\nThe maiden must choose one of the flowers named, on which she passes\nsome approving epithet, adding, at the same time, a disapproving\nrejection of the other two, as in the following terms: 'I will sink the\npink, swim the rose, and bring hame the gillyflower to land.' The young\nmen then disclose the names of the parties upon whom they had fixed\nthose appellations respectively, when it may chance she has slighted the\nperson to whom she is most attached, and contrariwise.\" Games of this\nkind are very varied, and still afford many an evening's amusement among\nthe young people of our country villages during the winter evenings.\n\n\n\nFootnotes:\n\n\n1. _Journal of Horticulture_, 1876, p. 355.\n\n2. Johnston's \"Botany of Eastern Borders.\"\n\n3. \"Dictionary of Archaic and Provincial Words.\"\n\n4. Johnston's \"Botany of Eastern Borders,\" p. 57.\n\n5. \"Botany of Eastern Borders,\" p. 85.\n\n6. \"English Botany,\" ed. I, iii. p. 3.\n\n7. \"Dictionary of Plant Names\" (Britten and Holland), p. 145.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\nSACRED PLANTS.\n\n\nClosely allied with plant-worship is the sacred and superstitious\nreverence which, from time immemorial, has been paid by various\ncommunities to certain trees and plants.\n\nIn many cases this sanctity originated in the olden heathen mythology,\nwhen \"every flower was the emblem of a god; every tree the abode of a\nnymph.\" From their association, too, with certain events, plants\nfrequently acquired a sacred character, and occasionally their specific\nvirtues enhanced their veneration. In short, the large number of sacred\nplants found in different countries must be attributed to a variety of\ncauses, illustrations of which are given in the present chapter.\n\nThus going back to mythological times, it may be noticed that trees into\nwhich persons were metamorphosed became sacred. The laurel was sacred to\nApollo in memory of Daphne, into which tree she was changed when\nescaping from his advances:--\n\n        \"Because thou canst not be\n  My mistress, I espouse thee for my tree;\n  Be thou the prize of honour and renown,\n  The deathless poet and the poet's crown;\n  Thou shalt the Roman festivals adorn,\n  And, after poets, be by victors won.\"\n\nBut it is unnecessary to give further instances of such familiar\nstories, of which early history is full. At the same time it is\nnoteworthy that many of these plants which acquired a sanctity from\nheathen mythology still retain their sacred character--a fact which has\ninvested them with various superstitions, in addition to having caused\nthem to be selected for ceremonial usage and homage in modern times.\nThus the pine, with its mythical origin and heathen associations, is an\nimportant tree on the Continent, being surrounded with a host of\nlegends, most of which, in one shape or another, are relics of early\nforms of belief. The sacred character of the oak still survives in\nmodern folk-lore, and a host of flowers which grace our fields and\nhedges have sacred associations from their connection with the heathen\ngods of old. Thus the anemone, poppy, and violet were dedicated to\nVenus; and to Diana \"all flowers growing in untrodden dells and shady\nnooks, uncontaminated by the tread of man, more especially belonged.\"\nThe narcissus and maidenhair were sacred to Proserpina, and the willow\nto Ceres. The pink is Jove's flower, and of the flowers assigned to Juno\nmay be mentioned the lily, crocus, and asphodel.\n\nPassing on to other countries, we find among the plants most conspicuous\nfor their sacred character the well-known lotus of the East (_Nelunibium\nspeciosum_), around which so many traditions and mythological legends\nhave clustered. According to a Hindu legend, from its blossom Brahma\ncame forth:--\n\n  \"A form Cerulean fluttered o'er the deep;\n  Brightest of beings, greatest of the great,\n    Who, not as mortals steep\n    Their eyes in dewy sleep,\n  But heavenly pensive on the lotus lay,\n  That blossom'd at his touch, and shed a golden ray.\n    Hail, primal blossom! hail, empyreal gem,\n  Kemel, or Pedma, [1] or whate'er high name\n  Delight thee, say. What four-formed godhead came,\n    With graceful stole and beamy diadem,\n    Forth from thy verdant stem.\" [2]\n\nBuddha, too, whose symbol is the lotus, is said to have first appeared\nfloating on this mystic flower, and, indeed, it would seem that many of\nthe Eastern deities were fond of resting on its leaves; while in China,\nthe god Pazza is generally represented as occupying this position. Hence\nthe lotus has long been an object of worship, and as a sacred plant\nholds a most distinguished place, for it is the flower of the,\n\n \"Old Hindu mythologies, wherein\n  The lotus, attribute of Ganga--embling\n  The world's great reproductive power--was held\n  In veneration.\"\n\nWe may mention here that the lotus, known also as the sacred bean of\nEgypt, and the rose-lily of the Nile, as far back as four thousand years\nago was held in high sanctity by the Egyptian priests, still retaining\nits sacred character in China, Japan, and Asiatic Russia.\n\nAnother famous sacred plant is the soma or moon-plant of India, the\n_Asclepias acida_, a climbing plant with milky juice, which Windischmann\nhas identified with the \"tree of life which grew in paradise.\" Its milk\njuice was said to confer immortality, the plant itself never decaying;\nand in a hymn in the _Rig Veda_ the soma sacrifice is thus described:--\n\n  \"We've quaffed the soma bright\n   And are immortal grown,\n  We've entered into light\n   And all the gods have known.\n  What mortal can now harm,\n   Or foeman vex us more?\n  Through thee beyond alarm,\n   Immortal God! we soar.\"\n\nThen there is the peepul or bo-tree (_Ficus religiosa_), which is held\nin high veneration by the followers of Buddha, in the vicinity of whose\ntemples it is generally planted. One of these trees in Ceylon is said to\nbe of very great antiquity, and according to Sir J. E. Tennant, \"to it\nkings have even dedicated their dominions in testimony of their belief\nthat it is a branch of the identical fig-tree under which Gotama Buddha\nreclined when he underwent his apotheosis.\"\n\nThe peepul-tree is highly venerated in Java, and by the Buddhists of\nThibet is known as the bridge of safety, over which mortals pass from\nthe shores of this world to those of the unseen one beyond. Occasionally\nconfounded with this peepul is the banyan (_Ficus indica_), which is\nanother sacred tree of the Indians. Under its shade Vishnu is said to\nhave been born; and by the Chinese, Buddha is represented as sitting\nbeneath its leaves to receive the homage of the god Brahma. Another\nsacred tree is the deodar (_Cedrus deodara_), a species of cedar, being\nthe Devadara, or tree-god of the Shastras, which in so many of the\nancient Hindu hymns is depicted as the symbol of power and majesty. [3]\nThe aroka, or _Saraca indica_, is said to preserve chastity, and is\ndedicated to Kama, the Indian god of love, while with the negroes of\nSenegambia the baobab-tree is an object of worship. In Borneo the\nnipa-palm is held in veneration, and the Mexican Indians have their\nmoriche-palm (_Mauritia flexuosa_). The _Tamarindus Indica_ is in Ceylon\ndedicated to Siva, the god of destruction; and in Thibet, the jambu or\nrose-apple is believed to be the representative of the divine\namarita-tree which bears ambrosia.\n\nThe pomegranate, with its mystic origin and early sacred associations,\nwas long reverenced by the Persians and Jews, an old tradition having\nidentified it as the forbidden fruit given by Eve to Adam. Again, as a\nsacred plant the basil has from time immemorial been held in high repute\nby the Hindus, having been sacred to Vishnu. Indeed it is worshipped as\na deity itself, and is invoked as the goddess Tulas\u00ee for the protection\nof the human frame. It is further said that \"the heart of Vishnu, the\nhusband of the Tulas\u00ee, is agitated and tormented whenever the least\nsprig is broken of a plant of Tulas\u00ee, his wife.\"\n\nAmong further flowers holding a sacred character may be mentioned the\nhenna, the Egyptian privet (_Lawsonia alba_), the flower of paradise,\nwhich was pronounced by Mahomet as \"chief of the flowers of this world\nand the next,\" the wormwood having been dedicated to the goddess Iris.\nBy the aborigines of the Canary Islands, the dragon-tree (_Dracoena\ndraco_) of Orotava was an object of sacred reverence; [4] and in Burmah\nat the present day the eugenia is held sacred. [5]\n\nIt has been remarked that the life of Christ may be said to fling its\nshadow over the whole vegetable world. [6] \"From this time the trees and\nthe flowers which had been associated with heathen rites and deities,\nbegan to be connected with holier names, and not unfrequently with the\nevents of the crucifixion itself.\"\n\nThus, upon the Virgin Mary a wealth of flowers was lavished, all white\nones, having been \"considered typical of her purity and holiness, and\nconsecrated to her festivals.\" [7] Indeed, not only, \"were the finer\nflowers wrested from the classic Juno and Diana, and from the Freyja and\nBertha of northern lands given to her, but lovely buds of every hue were\nlaid upon her shrines.\" [8] One species, for instance, of the\nmaiden-hair fern, known also as \"Our Lady's hair,\" is designated in\nIceland \"Freyja's hair,\" and the rose, often styled \"Frau rose,\" or\n\"Mother rose,\" the favourite flower of Hulda, was transferred to the\nVirgin. On the other hand, many plants bearing the name of Our Lady,\nwere, writes Mr. Folkard, in Puritan times, \"replaced by the name of\nVenus, thus recurring to the ancient nomenclature; 'Our Lady's comb'\nbecoming 'Venus's comb.'\" But the two flowers which were specially\nconnected with the Virgin were the lily and the rose. Accordingly, in\nItalian art, a vase of lilies stands by the Virgin's side, with three\nflowers crowning three green stems. The flower is generally the large\nwhite lily of our gardens, \"the pure white petals signifying her\nspotless body, and the golden anthers within typifying her soul\nsparkling with divine light.\" [9]\n\nThe rose, both red and white, appears at an early period as an emblem of\nthe Virgin, \"and was specially so recognised by St. Dominic when he\ninstituted the devotion of the rosary, with direct reference to\nher.\" [10] Among other flowers connected with the Virgin Mary may be\nmentioned the flowering-rod, according to which Joseph was chosen for\nher husband, because his rod budded into flower, and a dove settled upon\nthe top of it. In Tuscany a similar legend is attached to the oleander,\nand elsewhere the white campanula has been known as the \"little staff of\nSt. Joseph,\" while a German name for the white double daffodill is\n\"Joseph's staff.\"\n\nThen there is \"Our Lady's bed-straw,\" which filled the manger on which\nthe infant Jesus was laid; while of the plant said to have formed the\nVirgin's bed may be mentioned the thyme, woodroof, and groundsel. The\nwhite-spotted green leaves of \"Our Lady's thistle\" were caused by some\ndrops of her milk falling upon them, and in Cheshire we find the same\nidea connected with the pulmonaria or \"lady's milk sile,\" the word\n\"sile\" being a provincialism for \"soil,\" or \"stain.\" A German tradition\nmakes the common fern (_Polypodium vulgare_) to have sprung from the\nVirgin's milk.\n\nNumerous flowers have been identified with her dress, such as the\nmarigold, termed by Shakespeare \"Mary-bud,\" which she wore in her bosom.\nThe cuckoo-flower of our meadows is \"Our Lady's smock,\" which\nShakespeare refers to in those charming lines in \"Love's Labour's\nLost,\" where:--\n\n  \"When daisies pied and violets blue,\n  And lady's smocks all silver white,\n  And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue\n  Do paint the meadows with delight,\n  The cuckoo then on every tree\n  Mocks married men, for thus sings he,\n                        Cuckoo.\"\n\nAnd one of the finest of our orchids is \"Our Lady's slipper.\" The ribbon\ngrass is \"Our Lady's garters,\" and the dodder supplies her \"laces.\" In\nthe same way many flowers have been associated with the Virgin herself.\nThus, there is \"Our Lady's tresses,\" and a popular name for the\nmaiden-hair fern and quaking-grass is \"Virgin's hair.\" The lilies of the\nvalley are her tears, and a German nickname for the lungwort is \"Our\nLady's milk-wort.\" The _Anthlyllis vulneraria_ is \"Our Lady's fingers,\"\nand the kidney-wort has been designated \"lady's navel.\" Certain orchids,\nfrom the peculiar form of their hand-shaped roots, have been popularly\ntermed \"Our Lady's hands,\" a name given in France to the dead-nettle.\n\nOf the many other plants dedicated to the Virgin may be mentioned the\nsnowdrop, popularly known as the \"fair maid of February,\" opening its\nfloweret at the time of Candlemas. According to an old monkish tradition\nit blooms at this time, in memory of the Virgin having taken the child\nJesus to the temple, and there presented her offering. A further reason\nfor the snowdrop's association with the Virgin originated in the custom\nof removing her image from the altar on the day of the Purification, and\nstrewing over the vacant place with these emblems of purity. The\nbleeding nun (_Cyclamen europoeum_) was consecrated to the Virgin, and\nin France the spearmint is termed \"Our Lady's mint.\" In Germany the\ncostmary (_Costaminta vulgaris_) is \"Our Lady's balsam,\" the\nwhite-flowered wormwood the \"smock of our Lady,\" and in olden days the\niris or fleur-de-lis was held peculiarly sacred.\n\nThe little pink is \"lady's cushion,\" and the campanula is her\nlooking-glass. Then there is \"Our Lady's comb,\" with its long, fragile\nseed-vessels resembling the teeth of a comb, while the cowslip is \"Our\nLady's bunch of keys.\" In France, the digitalis supplies her with\ngloves, and in days gone by the _Convallaria polygonatum_ was the\n\"Lady's seal.\" According to some old writers, the black briony went by\nthis name, and Hare gives this explanation:--\"'Our Lady's seal'\n(_Sigillum marioe_) is among the names of the black briony, owing to the\ngreat efficacy of its roots when spread in a plaster and applied as it\nwere to heal up a scar or bruise.\" Formerly a species of primula was\nknown as \"lady's candlestick,\" and a Wiltshire nickname for the common\nconvolvulus is \"lady's nightcap,\" Canterbury bells in some places\nsupplying this need. The harebell is \"lady's thimble,\" and the plant\nwhich affords her a mantle is the _Alchemilla vulgaris_, with its\ngrey-green leaf covered with a soft silky hair. This is the Maria\nStakker of Iceland, which when placed under the pillow produces sleep.\n\nOnce more, the strawberry is one of the fruits that has been dedicated\nto her; and a species of nut, popularly known as the molluka bean, is in\nmany parts called the \"Virgin Mary's nut.\" The cherry-tree, too, has\nlong been consecrated to the Virgin from the following tradition:--\nBeing desirous one day of refreshing herself with some cherries which\nshe saw hanging upon a tree, she requested Joseph to gather some for\nher. But he hesitated, and mockingly said, \"Let the father of thy child\npresent them to you.\" But these words had been no sooner uttered than\nthe branch of the cherry-tree inclined itself of its own accord to the\nVirgin's hand. There are many other plants associated in one way or\nanother with the Virgin, but the instances already given are\nrepresentative of this wide subject. In connection, too, with her\nvarious festivals, we find numerous plants; and as the author of\n\"Flower-lore\" remarks, \"to the Madonna were assigned the white iris,\nblossoming almond-tree, narcissus, and white lily, all appropriate to\nthe Annunciation.\" The flowers appropriate to the \"Visitation of Our\nLady\" were, in addition to the lily, roses red and white, while to the\n\"Feast of Assumption\" is assigned the \"Virgin's bower,\" \"worthy to be so\ncalled,\" writes Gerarde, \"by reason of the goodly shadow which the\nbranches make with their thick bushing and climbing, as also for the\nbeauty of the flowers, and the pleasant scent and savour of the same.\"\n\nMany plants have been associated with St. John the Baptist, from his\nhaving been the forerunner of Christ. Thus, the common plant which bears\nhis name, St. John's wort, is marked with blood-like spots, known as the\n\"blood of St. John,\" making their appearance on the day he was beheaded.\nThe scarlet lychnis, popularly nicknamed the \"great candlestick,\" was\ncommonly said to be lighted up for his day. The carob tree has been\ndesignated \"St. John's bread,\" from a tradition that it supplied him\nwith food in the wilderness; and currants, from beginning to ripen at\nthis time, have been nicknamed \"berries of St. John.\" The artemisia was\nin Germany \"St. John's girdle,\" and in Sicily was applied to his beard.\n\nIn connection with Christ's birth it may be noted that the early\npainters represent the Angel Gabriel with either a sceptre or spray of\nthe olive tree, while in the later period of Italian art he has in his\nhand a branch of white lilies.[11] The star which pointed out the place\nof His birth has long been immortalised by the _Ornithogalum\numbellatum_, or Star of Bethlehem, which has been thought to resemble\nthe pictures descriptive of it; in France there is a pretty legend of\nthe rose-coloured sainfoin. When the infant Jesus was lying in the\nmanger the plant was found among the grass and herbs which composed his\nbed. But suddenly it opened its pretty blossom, that it might form a\nwreath around His head. On this account it has been held in high repute.\nHence the practice in Italy of decking mangers at Christmas time with\nmoss, sow-thistle, cypress, and holly. [12]\n\nNear the city of On there was shown for many centuries the sacred\nfig-tree, under which the Holy Family rested during their \"Flight into\nEgypt,\" and a Bavarian tradition makes the tree under which they found\nshelter a hazel. A German legend, on the other hand, informs us that as\nthey took their flight they came into a thickly-wooded forest, when, on\ntheir approach, all the trees, with the exception of the aspen, paid\nreverential homage. The disrespectful arrogance of the aspen, however,\ndid not escape the notice of the Holy Child, who thereupon pronounced a\ncurse against it, whereupon its leaves began to tremble, and have done\nso ever since:--\n\n  \"Once as our Saviour walked with men below,\n    His path of mercy through a forest lay;\n  And mark how all the drooping branches show\n    What homage best a silent tree may pay.\n\n  Only the aspen stood erect and free,\n    Scorning to join the voiceless worship pure,\n  But see! He cast one look upon the tree,\n    Struck to the heart she trembles evermore.\"\n\nThe \"rose of Jericho\" has long been regarded with special reverence,\nhaving first blossomed at Christ's birth, closed at His crucifixion, and\nopened again at the resurrection. At the flight into Egypt it is\nreported to have sprung up to mark the footsteps of the sacred family,\nand was consequently designated Mary's rose. The pine protected them\nfrom Herod's soldiers, while the juniper opened its branches and offered\na welcome shelter, although it afterwards, says an old legend, furnished\nthe wood for the cross.\n\nBut some trees were not so thoughtful, for \"the brooms and the\nchick-peas rustled and crackled, and the flax bristled up.\" According to\nanother old legend we are informed that by the fountain where the Virgin\nMary washed the swaddling-clothes of her sacred infant, beautiful bushes\nsprang up in memory of the event. Among the many further legends\nconnected with the Virgin may be mentioned the following connected with\nher death:--The story runs that she was extremely anxious to see her Son\nagain, and that whilst weeping, an angel appeared, and said, \"Hail, O\nMary! I bring thee here a branch of palm, gathered in paradise; command\nthat it be carried before thy bier in the day of thy death, for in three\ndays thy soul shall leave thy body, and thou shalt enter into paradise,\nwhere thy Son awaits thy coming.\" The angel then departed, but the\npalm-branch shed a light from every leaf, and the apostles, although\nscattered in different parts of the world, were miraculously caught up\nand set down at the Virgin's door. The sacred palm-branch she then\nassigned to the care of St. John, who carried it before her bier at the\ntime of her burial. [13]\n\nThe trees and flowers associated with the crucifixion are widely\nrepresented, and have given rise to many a pretty legend. Several plants\nare said to owe their dark-stained blossoms to the blood-drops which\ntrickled from the cross; amongst these being the wood-sorrel, the\nspotted persicaria, the arum, the purple orchis, which is known in\nCheshire as \"Gethsemane,\" and the red anemone, which has been termed the\n\"blood-drops of Christ.\" A Flemish legend, too, accounts in the same way\nfor the crimson-spotted leaves of the rood-selken. The plant which has\ngained the unenviable notoriety of supplying the crown of thorns has\nbeen variously stated as the boxthorn, the bramble, the buckthorns, [14]\nand barberry, while Mr. Conway quotes an old tradition, which tells how\nthe drops of blood that fell from the crown of thorns, composed of the\nrose-briar, fell to the ground and blossomed to roses. [15] Some again\nmaintain that the wild hyssop was employed, and one plant which was\nspecially signalled out in olden times is the auberpine or white-thorn.\nIn Germany holly is Christ-thorn, and according to an Eastern tradition\nit was the prickly rush, but as Mr. King [16] remarks, \"the belief of the\nEast has been tolerably constant to what was possibly the real plant\nemployed, the nabk (_Zizyphus spina-Christi_), a species of buckthorn.\"\nThe negroes of the West Indies say that, \"a branch of the cashew tree\nwas used, and that in consequence one of the bright golden petals of the\nflower became black and blood-stained.\"\n\nThen again, according to a Swedish legend, the dwarf birch tree afforded\nthe rod with which Christ was scourged, which accounts for its stunted\nappearance; while another legend tells us it was the willow with its\ndrooping branches. Rubens, together with the earlier Italian painters,\ndepict the reed-mace [17] or bulrush (_Typha latifolia_) as the rod given\nto Him to carry; a plant still put by Catholics into the hands of\nstatues of Christ. But in Poland, where the plant is difficult to\nprocure, \"the flower-stalk of the leek is substituted.\"\n\nThe mournful tree which formed the wood of the cross has always been a\ndisputed question, and given rise to a host of curious legends.\nAccording to Sir John Maundeville, it was composed of cedar, cypress,\npalm, and olive, while some have instituted in the place of the two\nlatter the pine and the box; the notion being that those four woods\nrepresented the four quarters of the globe. Foremost amongst the other\ntrees to which this distinction has been assigned, are the aspen,\npoplar, oak, elder, and mistletoe. Hence is explained the gloomy\nshivering of the aspen leaf, the trembling of the poplar, and the\npopular antipathy to utilising elder twigs for fagots. But it is\nprobable that the respect paid to the elder \"has its roots in the old\nheathenism of the north,\" and to this day, in Denmark, it is said to be\nprotected by \"a being called the elder-mother,\" so that it is not safe\nto damage it in any way. [18] The mistletoe, which exists now as a mere\nparasite, was before the crucifixion a fine forest tree; its present\ncondition being a lasting monument of the disgrace it incurred through\nits ignominious use. [19] A further legend informs us that when the Jews\nwere in search of wood for the cross, every tree, with the exception of\nthe oak, split itself to avoid being desecrated. On this account,\nGrecian woodcutters avoid the oak, regarding it as an accursed tree.\n\nThe bright blue blossoms of the speedwell, which enliven our wayside\nhedges in spring-time, are said to display in their markings a\nrepresentation of the kerchief of St Veronica, imprinted with the\nfeatures of Christ. [20] According to an old tradition, when our Lord was\non His way to Calvary, bearing His Cross, He happened to pass by the\ndoor of Veronica, who, beholding the drops of agony on His brow, wiped\nHis face with a kerchief or napkin. The sacred features, however,\nremained impressed upon the linen, and from the fancied resemblance of\nthe blossom of the speedwell to this hallowed relic, the plant was\nnamed Veronica.\n\nA plant closely connected by tradition with the crucifixion is the\npassion-flower. As soon as the early Spanish settlers in South America\nfirst glanced on it, they fancied they had discovered not only a\nmarvellous symbol of Christ's passion, but received an assurance of the\nultimate triumph of Christianity. Jacomo Bosio, who obtained his\nknowledge of it from certain Mexican Jesuits, speaks of it as \"the\nflower of the five wounds,\" and has given a very minute description of\nit, showing how exactly every part is a picture of the mysteries of the\nPassion. \"It would seem,\" he adds, \"as if the Creator of the world had\nchosen it to represent the principal emblems of His Son's Passion; so\nthat in due season it might assist, when its marvels should be explained\nto them, in the condition of the heathen people, in whose country it\ngrew.\" In Brittany, vervain is popularly termed the \"herb of the cross,\"\nand when gathered with a certain formula is efficacious in curing\nwounds. [21]\n\nIn legendary lore, much uncertainty exists as to the tree on which Judas\nhanged himself. According to Sir John Maundeville, there it stood in the\nvicinity of Mount Sion, \"the tree of eldre, that Judas henge himself\nupon, for despeyr,\" a legend which has been popularly received.\nShakespeare, in his \"Love's Labour's Lost,\" says \"Judas was hanged on an\nelder,\" and the story is further alluded to in Piers Plowman's vision:--\n\n  \"Judas, he japed\n  With Jewen silver,\n  And sithen on an eller,\n  Hanged himselve.\"\n\nGerarde makes it the wild carob, a tree which, as already stated, was\nformerly known as \"St. John's bread,\" from a popular belief that the\nBaptist fed upon it while in the wilderness. A Sicilian tradition\nidentifies the tree as a tamarisk, and a Russian proverb, in allusion to\nthe aspen, tells us \"there is an accursed tree which trembles without\neven a breath of wind.\" The fig, also, has been mentioned as the\nill-fated tree, and some traditions have gone so far as to say that it\nwas the very same one as was cursed by our Lord.\n\nAs might be expected, numerous plants have become interwoven with the\nlives of the saints, a subject on which many works have been written.\nHence it is unnecessary to do more than briefly note some of the more\nimportant items of sacred lore which have been embodied in many of the\nearly Christian legends. The yellow rattle has been assigned to St.\nPeter, and the _Primula veris_, from its resemblance to a bunch of keys,\nis St. Peter's wort. Many flowers, too, from the time of their\nblossoming, have been dedicated to certain saints, as the square St.\nJohn's wort (_Hypericum quadrangulare_), which is also known as St.\nPeter's wort; while in Germany wall-barley is termed Peter's corn. Of\nthe many legends connected with the cherry we are reminded that on one\noccasion Christ gave one to St. Peter, at the same time reminding him\nnot to despise little things.\n\nSt. James is associated with several plants--the St. James' wort\n(_Senecio Jacoboea_), either from its having been much used for the\ndiseases of horses, of which the saint was the patron, or owing to its\nblossoming on his festival. The same name was applied to the shepherd's\npurse and the rag-weed. Incidentally, too, in our chapter on the\ncalendar we have alluded to many flowers associated with the saints, and\nspoken of the customs observed in their honour.\n\nSimilarly the later saints had particular flowers dedicated to their\nmemory; and, indeed, a complete catalogue of flowers has been\ncompiled--one for each day in the year--the flower in many cases having\nbeen selected because it flowered on the festival of that saint. Thus\nthe common bean was dedicated to St. Ignatius, and the blue hyacinth to\nSt. Dorothy, while to St. Hilary the barren strawberry has been\nassigned. St. Anne is associated with the camomile, and St. Margaret\nwith the Virginian dragon's head. Then there is St. Anthony's turnips\nand St. Barbara's cress--the \"Saints' Floral Directory,\" in \"Hone's\nEvery-Day Book,\" giving a fuller and more extensive list. But the\nillustrations we have already given are sufficient to show how fully the\nnames of the saints have been perpetuated by so many of our well-known\nplants not only being dedicated to, but named after them, a fact which\nis perhaps more abundantly the case on the Continent. Then, as it has\nbeen remarked, flowers have virtually become the timepieces of our\nreligious calendar, reminding us of the various festivals, as in\nsuccession they return, in addition to immortalising the history and\nevents which such festivals commemorate. In many cases, too, it should\nbe remembered, the choice of flowers for dedication to certain saints\noriginated either in their medical virtues or in some old tradition\nwhich was supposed to have specially singled them out for this honour.\n\n\n\nFootnotes:\n\n\n1. Sanscrit for lotus.\n\n2. Hindu poem, translated by Sir William Jones.\n\n3. \"Flower-lore,\" p. 118.\n\n4. Folkard's \"Plant Legends,\" p. 245.\n\n5. \"Flower-lore,\" p. 120.\n\n6. _Quarterly Review_, cxiv. 231.\n\n7. \"Flower-lore,\" p. 2.\n\n8. Ibid.\n\n9. _Quarterly Review_, cxiv. 235.\n\n10. Ibid., p. 239.\n\n11. \"Flower-lore.\"\n\n12. Folkard's \"Plant Legends,\" p. 44.\n\n13. Folkard's \"Plant Legends,\" p. 395.\n\n14. \"Flower-lore,\" p. 13.\n\n15. _Fraser's Magazine_, 1870, p. 714.\n\n16. \"Flower-lore,\" p. 14.\n\n17. \"Flower-lore,\" p. 14.\n\n18. _Quarterly Review_, cxiv. 233; \"Flower-lore,\" p. 15.\n\n19. See Baring-Gould's \"Myths of the Middle Ages.\"\n\n20. \"Flower-lore,\" p. 12.\n\n21. See chapter on Folk-Medicine.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX.\n\nPLANT SUPERSTITIONS.\n\n\nThe superstitious notions which, under one form or another, have\nclustered round the vegetable kingdom, hold a prominent place in the\nfield of folk-lore. To give a full and detailed account of these\nsurvivals of bygone beliefs, would occupy a volume of no mean size, so\nthickly scattered are they among the traditions and legendary lore of\nalmost every country. Only too frequently, also, we find the same\nsuperstition assuming a very different appearance as it travels from one\ncountry to another, until at last it is almost completely divested of\nits original dress. Repeated changes of this kind, whilst not escaping\nthe notice of the student of comparative folk-lore, are apt to mislead\nthe casual observer who, it may be, assigns to them a particular home in\nhis own country, whereas probably they have travelled, before arriving\nat their modern destination, thousands of miles in the course of years.\n\nThere is said to be a certain mysterious connection between certain\nplants and animals. Thus, swine when affected with the spleen are\nsupposed to resort to the spleen-wort, and according to Coles, in his\n\"Art of Simpling,\" the ass does likewise, for he tells us that, \"if the\nasse be oppressed with melancholy, he eates of the herbe asplemon or\nmill-waste, and eases himself of the swelling of the spleen.\" One of the\npopular names of the common sow-thistle (_Sonchus oleraceus_) is\nhare's-palace, from the shelter it is supposed to afford the hare.\nAccording to the \"Grete Herbale,\" \"if the hare come under it, he is sure\nthat no beast can touch hym.\" Topsell also, in his \"Natural History,\"\nalludes to this superstition:--\"When hares are overcome with heat, they\neat of an herb called _Latuca leporina_, that is, hare's-lettuce,\nhare's-house, hare's-palace; and there is no disease in this beast the\ncure whereof she does not seek for in this herb.\"\n\nThe hound's-tongue (_cynoglossum_) has been reputed to have the magical\nproperty of preventing dogs barking at a person, if laid beneath the\nfeet; and Gerarde says that wild goats or deer, \"when they be wounded\nwith arrows, do shake them out by eating of this plant, and heal their\nwounds.\" Bacon in his \"Natural History\" alludes to another curious idea\nconnected with goats, and says, \"There are some tears of trees, which\nare combed from the beards of goats; for when the goats bite and crop\nthem, especially in the morning, the dew being on, the tear cometh\nforth, and hangeth upon their beards; of this sort is some kind of\nlaudanum.\" The columbine was once known as _Herba leonis_, from a belief\nthat it was the lion's favourite plant, and it is said that when bears\nwere half-starved by hybernating--having remained for days without\nfood--they were suddenly restored by eating the arum. There is a curious\ntradition in Piedmont, that if a hare be sprinkled with the juice of\nhenbane, all the hares in the neighbourhood will run away as if scared\nby some invisible power.\n\nGerarde also alludes to an old belief that cats, \"Are much delighted\nwith catmint, for the smell of it is so pleasant unto them, that they\nrub themselves upon it, and swallow or tumble in it, and also feed on\nthe branches very greedily.\" And according to an old proverb they have a\nliking for the plant maram:--\n\n  \"If you set it, the cats will eat it;\n   If you sow it, the cats won't know it.\"\n\nEqually fond, too, are cats of valerian, being said to dig up the roots\nand gnaw them to pieces, an allusion to which occurs in Topsell's\n\"Four-footed Beasts\" (1658-81):--\"The root of the herb valerian\n(commonly called Phu) is very like to the eye of a cat, and wheresoever\nit groweth, if cats come thereunto they instantly dig it up for the love\nthereof, as I myself have seen in mine own garden, for it smelleth\nmoreover like a cat.\"\n\nThen there is the moonwort, famous for drawing the nails out of horses'\nshoes, and hence known by the rustic name of \"unshoe the horse;\" while\nthe mouse-ear was credited with preventing the horses being hurt\nwhen shod.\n\nWe have already alluded to the superstitions relating to birds and\nplants, but may mention another relating to the celandine. One of the\nwell-known names of this plant is swallow-wort, so termed, says Gerarde,\nnot, \"because it first springeth at the coming in of the swallows, or\ndieth when they go away, for it may be found all the year, but because\nsome hold opinion that with this herbe the darns restore eyesight to\ntheir young ones, when their eye be put out.\" Coles strengthens the\nevidence in favour of this odd notion by adding: \"It is known to such as\nhave skill of nature, what wonderful care she hath of the smallest\ncreatures, giving to them a knowledge of medicine to help themselves, if\nhaply diseases annoy them. The swallow cureth her dim eyes with\ncelandine; the wesell knoweth well the virtue of herb-grace; the dove\nthe verven; the dogge dischargeth his mawe with a kind of grasse,\" &c.\n\nIn Italy cumin is given to pigeons for the purpose of taming them, and a\ncurious superstition is that of the \"divining-rod,\" with \"its versatile\nsensibility to water, ore, treasure and thieves,\" and one whose history\nis apparently as remote as it is widespread. Francis Lenormant, in his\n\"Chaldean Magic,\" mentions the divining-rods used by the Magi, wherewith\nthey foretold the future by throwing little sticks of tamarisk-wood, and\nadds that divination by wands was known and practised in Babylon, \"and\nthat this was even the most ancient mode of divination used in the time\nof the Accadians.\" Among the Hindus, even in the Vedic period, magic\nwands were in use, and the practice still survives in China, where the\npeach-tree is in demand. Tracing its antecedent history in this country,\nit appears that the Druids were in the habit of cutting their\ndivining-rods from the apple-tree; and various notices of this once\npopular fallacy occur from time to time, in the literature of bygone\nyears.\n\nThe hazel was formerly famous for its powers of discernment, and\nit is still held in repute by the Italians. Occasionally, too, as\nalready noticed, the divining-rod was employed for the purpose of\ndetecting the locality of water, as is still the case in Wiltshire. An\ninteresting case was quoted some years ago in the _Quarterly Review_\n(xxii. 273). A certain Lady N----is here stated to have convinced Dr.\nHutton of her possession of this remarkable gift, and by means of it to\nhave indicated to him the existence of a spring of water in one of his\nfields adjoining the Woolwich College, which, in consequence of the\ndiscovery, he was enabled to sell to the college at a higher price. This\npower Lady N----repeatedly exhibited before credible witnesses, and the\n_Quarterly Review_ of that day considered the fact indisputable. The\ndivining-rod has long been in repute among Cornish miners, and Pryce, in\nhis \"Mineralogia Cornubiensis,\" says that many mines have been\ndiscovered by this means; but, after giving a minute account of cutting,\ntying, and using it, he rejects it, because, \"Cornwall is so plentifully\nstored with tin and copper lodes, that some accident every week\ndiscovers to us a fresh vein.\"\n\nBillingsley, in his \"Agricultural Survey of the County of Cornwall,\"\npublished in the year 1797, speaks of the belief of the Mendip miners in\nthe efficacy of the mystic rod:--\"The general method of discovering the\nsituation and direction of those seams of ore (which lie at various\ndepths, from five to twenty fathoms, in a chasm between two inches of\nsolid rock) is by the help of the divining-rod, vulgarly called\n_josing_; and a variety of strong testimonies are adduced in supporting\nthis doctrine. So confident are the common miners of the efficacy, that\nthey scarcely ever sink a shaft but by its direction; and those who are\ndexterous in the use of it, will mark on the surface the course and\nbreadth of the vein; and after that, with the assistance of the rod,\nwill follow the same course twenty times following blindfolded.\"\nAnecdotes of the kind are very numerous, for there are few subjects in\nfolk-lore concerning which more has been written than on the\ndivining-rod, one of the most exhaustive being that of Mr. Baring-Gould\nin his \"Curious Myths of the Middle Ages.\" The literature, too, of the\npast is rich in allusions to this piece of superstition, and Swift in\nhis \"Virtues of Sid Hamet the Magician's Rod\" (1710) thus refers to\nit:--\n\n  \"They tell us something strange and odd\n  About a certain magic rod\n  That, bending down its top, divines\n  Whene'er the soil has golden mines;\n  Where there are none, it stands erect,\n  Scorning to show the least respect.\n  As ready was the wand of Sid\n  To bend where golden mines were hid.\n  In Scottish hills found precious ore,\n  Where none e'er looked for it before;\n  And by a gentle bow divined,\n  How well a Cully's purse was lined;\n  To a forlorn and broken rake,\n  Stood without motion like a stake.\"\n\nDe Quincey has several amusing allusions to this fallacy, affirming that\nhe had actually seen on more than one occasion the process applied with\nsuccess, and declared that, in spite of all science or scepticism might\nsay, most of the tea-kettles in the Vale of Wrington, North\nSomersetshire, are filled by rhabdomancy. But it must be admitted that\nthe phenomena of the divining-rod and table-turning are of precisely the\nsame character, both being referable to an involuntary muscular action\nresulting from a fixedness of idea. Moreover, it should be remembered\nthat experiments with the divining-rod are generally made in a district\nknown to be metalliferous, and therefore the chances are greatly in\nfavour of its bending over or near a mineral lode. On the other hand, it\nis surprising how many people of culture have, at different times, in\nthis and other countries, displayed a lamentable weakness in partially\naccepting this piece of superstition. Of the many anecdotes related\nrespecting it, we may quote an amusing one in connection with the\ncelebrated botanist, Linnaeus:--\"When he was on one of his voyages,\nhearing his secretary highly extol the virtues of his divining-wand, he\nwas willing to convince him of its insufficiency, and for that purpose\nconcealed a purse of one hundred ducats under a ranunculus, which grew\nup by itself in a meadow, and bid the secretary find it if he could. The\nwand discovered nothing, and Linnaeus' mark was soon trampled down by\nthe company who were present, so that when he went to finish the\nexperiment by fetching the gold himself, he was utterly at a loss where\nto find it. The man with the wand assisted him, and informed him that it\ncould not lie in the way they were going, but quite the contrary, so\npursued the direction of the wand, and actually dug out the gold.\nLinnaeus thereupon added that such another experiment would be\nsufficient to make a proselyte of him.\" [1]\n\nIn 1659, the Jesuit, Gaspard Schott, tells us that this magic rod was at\nthis period used in every town in Germany, and that he had frequently\nhad opportunities of seeing it used in the discovery of hidden treasure.\nHe further adds:--\"I searched with the greatest care into the question\nwhether the hazel rod had any sympathy with gold and silver, and whether\nany natural property set it in motion. In like manner, I tried whether a\nring of metal, held suspended by a thread in the midst of a tumbler, and\nwhich strikes the hours, is moved by any similar force.\" But many of the\nmysterious effects of these so-called divining-rods were no doubt due to\nclever imposture. In the year 1790, Plunet, a native of Dauphin\u00e9,\nclaimed a power over the divining-rod which attracted considerable\nattention in Italy. But when carefully tested by scientific men in\nPadua, his attempts to discover buried metals completely failed; and at\nFlorence he was detected trying to find out by night what he had\nsecreted to test his powers on the morrow. The astrologer Lilly made\nsundry experiments with the divining-rod, but was not always successful;\nand the Jesuit, Kircher, tried the powers of certain rods which were\nsaid to have sympathetic influences for particular metals, but they\nnever turned on the approach of these. Once more, in the \"Shepherd's\nCalendar,\" we find a receipt to make the \"Mosaic wand to find hidden\ntreasure\" without the intervention of a human operator:--\"Cut a hazel\nwand forked at the upper end like a Y. Peel off the rind, and dry it in\na moderate heat, then steep it in the juice of wake-robin or nightshade,\nand cut the single lower end sharp; and where you suppose any rich mine\nor hidden treasure is near, place a piece of the same metal you conceive\nis hid, or in the earth, to the top of one of the forks by a hair, and\ndo the like to the other end; pitch the sharp single end lightly to the\nground at the going down of the sun, the moon being in the increase, and\nin the morning at sunrise, by a natural sympathy, you will find the\nmetal inclining, as it were pointing, to the places where the other is\nhid.\"\n\nAccording to a Tuscany belief, the almond will discover treasures; and\nthe golden rod has long had the reputation in England of pointing to\nhidden springs of water, as well as to treasures of gold and silver.\nSimilarly, the spring-wort and primrose--the key-flower--revealed the\nhidden recesses in mountains where treasures were concealed, and the\nmystic fern-seed, termed \"wish-seed,\" was supposed in the Tyrol to make\nknown hidden gold; and, according to a Lithuanian form of this\nsuperstition, one who secures treasures by this means will be pursued by\nadders, the guardians of the gold. Plants of this kind remind us of the\nmagic \"sesame\" which, at the command of Ali Baba, in the story of the\n\"Forty Thieves,\" gave him immediate admission to the secret\ntreasure-cave. Once more, among further plants possessing the same\nmystic property may be mentioned the sow-thistle, which, when invoked,\ndiscloses hidden treasures. In Sicily a branch of the pomegranate tree\nis considered to be a most effectual means of ascertaining the\nwhereabouts of concealed wealth. Hence it has been invested with an\nalmost reverential awe, and has been generally employed when search has\nbeen made for some valuable lost property. In Silesia, Thuringia, and\nBohemia the mandrake is, in addition to its many mystic properties,\nconnected with the idea of hidden treasures.\n\nNumerous plants are said to be either lucky or the reverse, and hence\nhave given rise to all kinds of odd beliefs, some of which still survive\nin our midst, having come down from a remote period.\n\nThere is in many places a curious antipathy to uprooting the house-leek,\nsome persons even disliking to let it blossom, and a similar prejudice\nseems to have existed against the cuckoo-flower, for, if found\naccidentally inverted in a May garland, it was at once destroyed. In\nPrussia it is regarded as ominous for a bride to plant myrtle, although\nin this country it has the reputation of being a lucky plant. According\nto a Somersetshire saying, \"The flowering myrtle is the luckiest plant\nto have in your window, water it every morning, and be proud of it.\" We\nmay note here that there are many odd beliefs connected with the myrtle.\n\"Speaking to a lady,\" says a correspondent of the _Athenaeum_ (Feb. 5,\n1848), \"of the difficulty which I had always found in getting a slip of\nmyrtle to grow, she directly accounted for my failure by observing that\nperhaps I had not spread the tail or skirt of my dress, and looked proud\nduring the time I was planting it. It is a popular belief in\nSomersetshire that unless a slip of myrtle is so planted, it will never\ntake root.\" The deadly nightshade is a plant of ill omen, and Gerarde\ndescribing it says, \"if you will follow my counsel, deal not with the\nsame in any case, and banish it from your gardens, and the use of it\nalso, being a plant so furious and deadly; for it bringeth such as have\neaten thereof into a dead sleep, wherein many have died.\" There is a\nstrong prejudice to sowing parsley, and equally a great dislike to\ntransplanting it, the latter notion being found in South America.\nLikewise, according to a Devonshire belief, it is highly unlucky to\nplant a bed of lilies of the valley, as the person doing so will\nprobably die in the course of the next twelve months.\n\nThe withering of plants has long been regarded ominous, and, according\nto a Welsh superstition, if there are faded leaves in a room where a\nbaby is christened it will soon die. Of the many omens afforded by the\noak, we are told that the change of its leaves from their usual colour\ngave more than once \"fatal premonition\" of coming misfortunes during the\ngreat civil wars; and Bacon mentions a tradition that \"if the oak-apple,\nbroken, be full of worms, it is a sign of a pestilent year.\" In olden\ntimes the decay of the bay-tree was considered an omen of disaster, and\nit is stated that, previous to the death of Nero, though the winter was\nvery mild, all these trees withered to the roots, and that a great\npestilence in Padua was preceded by the same phenomenon. [2] Shakespeare\nspeaks of this superstition:--\n\n  \"'Tis thought the king is dead; we will not stay,\n  The bay-trees in our county are all withered.\"\n\nLupton, in his \"Notable Things,\" tells us that,\n\n \"If a fir-tree be touched, withered, or burned with lightning, it\n signifies that the master or mistress thereof shall shortly die.\"\n\nIt is difficult, as we have already noted in a previous chapter, to\ndiscover why some of our sweetest and fairest spring-flowers should be\nassociated with ill-luck. In the western counties, for instance, one\nshould never take less than a handful of primroses or violets into a\nfarmer's house, as neglect of this rule is said to affect the success of\nthe ducklings and chickens. A correspondent of _Notes and Queries_ (I.\nSer. vii. 201) writes:--\"My gravity was sorely tried by being called on\nto settle a quarrel between two old women, arising from one of them\nhaving given one primrose to her neighbour's child, for the purpose of\nmaking her hens hatch but one egg out of each set of eggs, and it was\nseriously maintained that the charm had been successful.\" In the same\nway it is held unlucky to introduce the first snowdrop of the year into\na house, for, as a Sussex woman once remarked, \"It looks for all the\nworld like a corpse in its shroud.\" We may repeat, too, again the\nfamiliar adage:--\n\n \"If you sweep the house with blossomed broom in May,\n  You are sure to sweep the head of the house away.\"\n\nAnd there is the common superstition that where roses and violets bloom\nin autumn, it is indicative of some epidemic in the following year;\nwhereas, if a white rose put forth unexpectedly, it is believed in\nGermany to be a sign of death in the nearest house; and in some parts of\nEssex there is a current belief that sickness or death will inevitably\nensue if blossoms of the whitethorn be brought into a house; the idea in\nNorfolk being that no one will be married from the house during the\nyear. Another ominous sign is that of plants shedding their leaves, or\nof their blossoms falling to pieces. Thus the peasantry in some places\naffirm that the dropping of the leaves of a peach-tree betokens a\nmurrain; and in Italy it is held unlucky for a rose to do so. A\nwell-known illustration of this superstition occurred many years ago in\nthe case of the unfortunate Miss Bay, who was murdered at the piazza\nentrance of Covent Garden by Hackman (April 1779), the following account\nof which we quote from the \"Life and Correspondence of M. G. Lewis\":--\n\"When the carriage was announced, and she was adjusting her dress, Mr.\nLewis happened to make some remark on a beautiful rose which Miss Kay\nwore in her bosom. Just as the words were uttered the flower fell to the\nground. She immediately stooped to regain it, but as she picked it up,\nthe red leaves scattered themselves on the carpet, and the stalk alone\nremained in her hand. The poor girl, who had been depressed in spirits\nbefore, was evidently affected by this incident, and said, in a slightly\nfaltering voice, 'I trust I am not to consider this as an evil omen!'\nBut soon rallying, she expressed to Mr. Lewis, in a cheerful tone, her\nhope that they would meet again after the theatre--a hope, alas! which\nit was decreed should not be realised.\" According to a German belief,\none who throws a rose into a grave will waste away.\n\nThere is a notion prevalent in Dorsetshire that a house wherein the\nplant \"bergamot\" is kept will never be free from sickness; and in\nNorfolk it is said to be unlucky to take into a house a bunch of the\ngrass called \"maiden-hair,\" or, as it is also termed, \"dudder-grass.\"\nAmong further plants of ill omen may be mentioned the bluebell\n(_Campanula rotundifolia_), which in certain parts of Scotland was\ncalled \"The aul' man's bell,\" and was regarded with a sort of dread, and\ncommonly left unpulled. In Cumberland, about Cockermouth, the red\ncampion (_Lychnis diurna_) is called \"mother-die,\" and young people\nbelieve that if plucked some misfortune will happen to their parents. A\nsimilar belief attaches to the herb-robert (_Geranium robertianum_) in\nWest Cumberland, where it is nicknamed \"Death come quickly;\" and in\ncertain parts of Yorkshire there is a notion that if a child gather the\ngermander speedwell (_Veronica chamoedrys_), its mother will die during\nthe year. Herrick has a pretty allusion to the daffodil:--\n\n  \"When a daffodil I see\n  Hanging down her head t'wards me,\n  Guess I may what I must be:\n  First, I shall decline my head;\n  Secondly, I shall be dead;\n  Lastly, safely buried.\"\n\nIn Germany, the marigold is with the greatest care excluded from the\nflowers with which young women test their love-affairs; and in Austria\nit is held unlucky to pluck the crocus, as it draws away the strength.\n\nAn ash leaf is still frequently employed for invoking good luck, and in\nCornwall we find the old popular formula still in use:--\n\n  \"Even ash, I do thee pluck,\n  Hoping thus to meet good luck;\n  If no good luck I get from thee,\n  I shall wish thee on the tree.\"\n\nAnd there is the following well-known couplet:--\n\n  \"With a four-leaved clover, a double-leaved ash, and a green-topped\n      leave,\n  You may go before the queen's daughter without asking leave.\"\n\nBut, on the other hand, the finder of the five-leaved clover, it is\nsaid, will have bad luck.\n\nIn Scotland [3] it was formerly customary to carry on the person a piece\nof torch-fir for good luck--a superstition which, Mr. Conway remarks, is\nfound in the gold-mines of California, where the men tip a cone with the\nfirst gold they discover, and keep it as a charm to ensure good luck\nin future.\n\nNuts, again, have generally been credited with propitious qualities, and\nhave accordingly been extensively used for divination. In some\nmysterious way, too, they are supposed to influence the population, for\nwhen plentiful, there is said to be a corresponding increase of babies.\nIn Russia the peasantry frequently carry a nut in their purses, from a\nbelief that it will act as a charm in their efforts to make money.\nSternberg, in his \"Northamptonshire Glossary\" (163), says that the\ndiscovery of a double nut, \"presages well for the finder, and unless he\nmars his good fortune by swallowing both kernels, is considered an\ninfallible sign of approaching 'luck.' The orthodox way in such cases\nconsists in eating one, and throwing the other over the shoulder.\"\n\nThe Icelanders have a curious idea respecting the mountain-ash,\naffirming that it is an enemy of the juniper, and that if one is\nplanted on one side of a tree, and the other on the other, they will\nsplit it. It is also asserted that if both are kept in the same house it\nwill be burnt down; but, on the other hand, there is a belief among some\nsailors that if rowan-tree be used in a ship, it will sink the vessel\nunless juniper be found on board. In the Tyrol, the _Osmunda regalis_,\ncalled \"the blooming fern,\" is placed over the door for good teeth; and\nMr. Conway, too, in his valuable papers, to which we have been often\nindebted in the previous chapters, says that there are circumstances\nunder which all flowers are injurious. \"They must not be laid on the bed\nof a sick person, according to a Silesian superstition; and in\nWestphalia and Thuringia, no child under a year old must be permitted to\nwreathe itself with flowers, or it will soon die. Flowers, says a common\nGerman saying, must in no case be laid on the mouth of a corpse, since\nthe dead man may chew them, which would make him a 'Nachzehrer,' or one\nwho draws his relatives to the grave after him.\"\n\nIn Hungary, the burnet saxifrage (_Pimpinella saxifraga_) is a mystic\nplant, where it is popularly nicknamed Chaba's salve, there being an old\ntradition that it was discovered by King Chaba, who cured the wounds of\nfifteen thousand of his men after a bloody battle fought against his\nbrother. In Hesse, it is said that with knots tied in willow one may\nslay a distant enemy; and the Bohemians have a belief that\nseven-year-old children will become beautiful by dancing in the flax.\nBut many superstitions have clustered round the latter plant, it having\nin years gone by been a popular notion that it will only flower at the\ntime of day on which it was originally sown. To spin on Saturday is said\nin Germany to bring ill fortune, and as a warning the following legend\nis among the household tales of the peasantry:--\"Two old women, good\nfriends, were the most industrious spinners in their village, Saturday\nfinding them as engrossed in their work as on the other days of the\nweek. At length one of them died, but on the Saturday evening following\nshe appeared to the other, who, as usual, was busy at her wheel, and\nshowing her burning hand, said:--\n\n  'See what I in hell have won,\n  Because on Saturday eve I spun.'\"\n\nFlax, nevertheless, is a lucky plant, for in Thuringia, when a young\nwoman gets married, she places flax in her shoes as a charm against\npoverty. It is supposed, also, to have health-giving virtues; for in\nGermany, when an infant seems weakly and thrives slowly, it is placed\nnaked upon the turf on Midsummer day, and flax-seed is sprinkled over\nit; the idea being that as the flax-seed grows so the infant will\ngradually grow stronger. Of the many beliefs attached to the ash-tree,\nwe are told in the North of England that if the first parings of a\nchild's nails be buried beneath its roots, it will eventually turn out,\nto use the local phrase, a \"top-singer,\" and there is a popular\nsuperstition that wherever the purple honesty (_Lunaria biennis_)\nflourishes, the cultivators of the garden are noted for their honesty.\nThe snapdragon, which in years gone by was much cultivated for its showy\nblossoms, was said to have a supernatural influence, and amongst other\nqualities to possess the power of destroying charms. Many further\nillustrations of this class of superstition might easily be added, so\nthickly interwoven are they with the history of most of our familiar\nwild-flowers. One further superstition may be noticed, an allusion to\nwhich occurs in \"Henry V.\" (Act i. sc. i):--\n\n \"The strawberry grows underneath the nettle,\n And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best\n Neighbour'd by fruit of baser quality;\"\n\nIt having been the common notion that plants were affected by the\nneighbourhood of other plants to such an extent that they imbibed each\nother's virtues and faults. Accordingly sweet flowers were planted near\nfruit-trees, with the idea of improving the flavour of the fruit; and,\non the other hand, evil-smelling trees, like the elder, were carefully\ncleaned away from fruit-trees, lest they should become tainted. [4]\nFurther superstitions have been incidentally alluded to throughout the\npresent volume, necessarily associated as they are with most sections of\nplant folk-lore. It should also be noticed that in the various\nfolk-tales which have been collected together in recent years, many\ncurious plant superstitions are introduced, although, to suit the\nsurroundings of the story, they have only too frequently been modified,\nor the reverse. At the same time, embellishments of the kind are\ninteresting, as showing how familiar these traditionary beliefs were in\nolden times to the story-teller, and how ready he was to avail\nhimself of them.\n\n\nFootnotes:\n\n1. See Baring-Gerald's \"Curious Myths of the Middle Ages.\"\n\n2. Ingram's \"Florica Symbolica,\" p. 326.\n\n3. Stewart's \"Popular Superstitions of the Highlanders.\"\n\n4. See Ellacombe's \"Plant-lore of Shakespeare,\" p. 319.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI.\n\nPLANTS IN FOLK-MEDICINE.\n\n\nFrom the earliest times plants have been most extensively used in the\ncure of disease, although in days of old it was not so much their\ninherent medicinal properties which brought them into repute as their\nsupposed magical virtues. Oftentimes, in truth, the only merit of a\nplant lay in the charm formula attached to it, the due utterance of\nwhich ensured relief to the patient. Originally there can be no doubt\nthat such verbal forms were prayers, \"since dwindled into mystic\nsentences.\" [1] Again, before a plant could work its healing powers, due\nregard had to be paid to the planet under whose influence it was\nsupposed to be; [2] for Aubrey mentions an old belief that if a plant \"be\nnot gathered according to the rules of astrology, it hath little or no\nvirtue in it.\" Hence, in accordance with this notion, we find numerous\ndirections for the cutting and preparing of certain plants for medicinal\npurposes, a curious list of which occurs in Culpepper's \"British Herbal\nand Family Physician.\" This old herbalist, who was a strong believer in\nastrology, tells us that such as are of this way of thinking, and none\nelse, are fit to be physicians. But he was not the only one who had\nstrict views on this matter, as the literature of his day\nproves--astrology, too, having held a prominent place in most of the\ngardening books of the same period. Michael Drayton, who has chronicled\nso many of the credulities of his time, referring to the longevity of\nantediluvian men, writes:--\n\n \"Besides, in medicine, simples had the power\n That none need then the planetary hour\n To help their workinge, they so juiceful were.\"\n\nThe adder's-tongue, if plucked during the wane of the moon, was a cure\nfor tumours, and there is a Swabian belief that one, \"who on Friday of\nthe full moon pulls up the amaranth by the root, and folding it in a\nwhite cloth, wears it against his naked breast, will be made\nbullet-proof.\" [3] Consumptive patients, in olden times, were three times\npassed, \"Through a circular wreath of woodbine, cut during the increase\nof the March moon, and let down over the body from head to foot.\" [4] In\nFrance, too, at the present day, the vervain is gathered under the\ndifferent changes of the moon, with secret incantations, after which it\nis said to possess remarkable curative properties.\n\nIn Cornwall, the club-moss, if properly gathered, is considered \"good\nagainst all diseases of the eye.\" The mode of procedure is this:--\"On\nthe third day of the moon, when the thin crescent is seen for the first\ntime, show it the knife with which the moss is to be cut, and repeat\nthis formula:--\n\n  'As Christ healed the issue of blood,\n   Do thou cut what thou cuttest for good.'\n\nAt sundown, the operator, after carefully washing his hands, is to cut\nthe club-moss kneeling. It is then to be wrapped in a white cloth, and\nsubsequently boiled in water taken from the spring nearest to its place\nof growth. This may be used as a fomentation, or the club-moss may be\nmade into an ointment with the butter from the milk of a new cow.\" [5]\n\nSome plants have, from time immemorial, been much in request from the\nseason or period of their blooming, beyond which fact it is difficult to\naccount for the virtues ascribed to them. Thus, among the Romans, the\nfirst anemone of the year, when gathered with this form of incantation,\n\"I gather thee for a remedy against disease,\" was regarded as a\npreservative from fever; a survival of which belief still prevails in\nour own country:--\n\n  \"The first spring-blown anemone she in his doublet wove,\n  To keep him safe from pestilence wherever he should rove.\"\n\nOn the other hand, in some countries there is a very strong prejudice\nagainst the wild anemone, the air being said \"to be so tainted by them,\nthat they who inhale it often incur severe sickness.\" [6] Similarly we\nmay compare the notion that flowers blooming out of season have a fatal\nsignificance, as we have noted elsewhere.\n\nThe sacred associations attached to many plants have invested them, at\nall times, with a scientific repute in the healing art, instances of\nwhich may be traced up to a very early period. Thus, the peony, which,\nfrom its mythical divine origin, was an important flower in the\nprimitive pharmacopoeia, has even in modern times retained its\nreputation; and to this day Sussex mothers put necklaces of beads turned\nfrom the peony root around their children's necks, to prevent\nconvulsions and to assist them in their teething. When worn on the\nperson, it was long considered, too, a most effectual remedy for\ninsanity, and Culpepper speaks of its virtues in the cure of the falling\nsickness. [7] The thistle, sacred to Thor, is another plant of this kind,\nand indeed instances are very numerous. On the other hand, some plants,\nfrom their great virtues as \"all-heals,\" it would seem, had such names\nas \"Angelica\" and \"Archangel\" bestowed on them. [8]\n\nIn later times many plants became connected with the name of Christ, and\nwith the events of the crucifixion itself--facts which occasionally\nexplain their mysterious virtues. Thus the vervain, known as the \"holy\nherb,\" and which was one of the sacred plants of the Druids, has long\nbeen held in repute, the subjoined rhyme assigning as the reason:--\n\n  \"All hail, thou holy herb, vervin,\n    Growing on the ground;\n  On the Mount of Calvary\n    There wast thou found;\n  Thou helpest many a grief,\n    And staunchest many a wound.\n  In the name of sweet Jesu,\n    I lift thee from the ground.\"\n\nTo quote one or two further instances, a popular recipe for preventing\nthe prick of a thorn from festering is to repeat this formula:--\n\n  \"Christ was of a virgin born,\n  And he was pricked with a thorn,\n  And it did neither bell nor swell,\n  And I trust in Jesus this never will.\"\n\nIn Cornwall, some years ago, the following charm was much used, forms of\nwhich may occasionally be heard at the present day:--\n\n  \"Happy man that Christ was born,\n  He was crowned with a thorn;\n  He was pierced through the skin,\n  For to let the poison in.\n  But His five wounds, so they say,\n  Closed before He passed away.\n  In with healing, out with thorn,\n  Happy man that Christ was born.\"\n\nAnother version used in the North of England is this:--\n\n  \"Unto the Virgin Mary our Saviour was horn,\n  And on his head he wore a crown of thorn;\n  If you believe this true, and mind it well,\n  This hurt will never fester nor swell.\"\n\nThe _Angelica sylvestris_ was popularly known as \"Holy Ghost,\" from the\nangel-like properties therein having been considered good \"against\npoisons, pestilent agues, or the pestilence.\"\n\nCockayne, in his \"Saxon Leechdoms,\" mentions an old poem descriptive of\nthe virtues of the mugwort:--\n\n  \"Thou hast might for three,\n  And against thirty,\n  For venom availest\n  For plying vile things.\"\n\nSo, too, certain plants of the saints acquired a notoriety for specific\nvirtues; and hence St. John's wort, with its leaves marked with\nblood-like spots, which appear, according to tradition, on the\nanniversary of his decollation, is still \"the wonderful herb\" that cures\nall sorts of wounds. Herb-bennet, popularly designated \"Star of the\nearth,\" a name applied to the avens, hemlock, and valerian, should\nproperly be, says Dr. Prior, \"St. Benedict's herb, a name assigned to\nsuch plants as were supposed to be antidotes, in allusion to a legend of\nthis saint, which represents that upon his blessing a cup of poisoned\nwine which a monk had given to destroy him, the glass was shivered to\npieces.\" In the same way, herb-gerard was called from St. Gerard, who was\nformerly invoked against gout, a complaint for which this plant was once\nin high repute. St. James's wort was so called from its being used for\nthe diseases of horses, of which this great pilgrim-saint was the\npatron. It is curious in how many unexpected ways these odd items of\nfolk-lore in their association with the saints meet us, showing that in\nnumerous instances it is entirely their association with certain saints\nthat has made them of medical repute.\n\nSome trees and plants have gained a medical notoriety from the fact of\ntheir having a mystical history, and from the supernatural qualities\nascribed to them. But, as Bulwer-Lytton has suggested in his \"Strange\nStory,\" the wood of certain trees to which magical properties are\nascribed may in truth possess virtues little understood, and deserving\nof careful investigation. Thus, among these, the rowan would take its\nplace, as would the common hazel, from which the miner's divining-rod is\nalways cut. [9] An old-fashioned charm to cure the bite of an adder was\nto lay a cross formed of two pieces of hazel-wood on the ground,\nrepeating three times this formula [10]:--\n\n  \"Underneath this hazelin mote,\n  There's a braggotty worm with a speckled throat,\n  Nine double is he;\n  Now from nine double to eight double\n  And from eight double to seven double-ell.\"\n\nThe mystical history of the apple accounts for its popularity as a\nmedical agent, although, of course, we must not attribute all the\nlingering rustic cures to this source. Thus, according to an old\nDevonshire rhyme,\n\n  \"Eat an apple going to bed,\n  Make the doctor beg his bread.\"\n\nIts juice has long been deemed potent against warts, and a Lincolnshire\ncure for eyes affected by rheumatism or weakness is a poultice made of\nrotten apples.\n\nThe oak, long famous for its supernatural strength and power, has been\nmuch employed in folk-medicine. A German cure for ague is to walk round\nan oak and say:--\n\n \"Good evening, thou good one old;\n I bring thee the warm and the cold.\"\n\nSimilarly, in our own country, oak-trees planted at the junction of\ncross-roads were much resorted to by persons suffering from ague, for\nthe purpose of transferring to them their complaint, [11] and elsewhere\nallusion has already been made to the practice of curing sickly children\nby passing through a split piece of oak. A German remedy for gout is to\ntake hold of an oak, or of a young shoot already felled, and to repeat\nthese words:--\n\n  \"Oak-shoot, I to thee complain,\n  All the torturing gout plagues me;\n  I cannot go for it,\n  Thou canst stand it.\n  The first bird that flies above thee,\n  To him give it in his flight,\n  Let him take it with him in the air.\"\n\n\nAnother plant, which from its mystic character has been used for various\ncomplaints, is the elder. In Bohemia, three spoonsful of the water which\nhas been used to bathe an invalid are poured under an elder-tree; and a\nDanish cure for toothache consists in placing an elder-twig in the\nmouth, and then sticking it in a wall, saying, \"Depart, thou evil\nspirit.\" The mysterious origin and surroundings of the mistletoe have\ninvested it with a widespread importance in old folk-lore remedies, many\nof which are, even now-a-days, firmly credited; a reputation, too,\nbestowed upon it by the Druids, who styled it \"all-heal,\" as being an\nantidote for all diseases. Culpepper speaks of it as \"good for the grief\nof the sinew, itch, sores, and toothache, the biting of mad dogs and\nvenomous beasts;\" while Sir Thomas Browne alludes to its virtues in\ncases of epilepsy. In France, amulets formed of mistletoe were much\nworn; and in Sweden, a finger-ring made of its wood is an antidote\nagainst sickness. The mandrake, as a mystic plant, was extensively sold\nfor medicinal purposes, and in Kent may be occasionally found kept to\ncure barrenness; [12] and it may be remembered that La Fontaine's fable,\n_La Mandragore_, turns upon its supposed power of producing children.\nHow potent its effects were formerly held may be gathered from the very\nmany allusions to its mystic properties in the literature of bygone\nyears. Columella, in his well-known lines, says:--\n\n  \"Whose roots show half a man, whose juice\n  With madness strikes.\"\n\nShakespeare speaks of it as an opiate, and on the Continent it was much\nused for amulets.\n\nAgain, certain plants seem to have been specially in high repute in\nolden times from the marvellous influence they were credited with\nexercising over the human frame; consequently they were much valued by\nboth old and young; for who would not retain the vigour of his youth,\nand what woman would not desire to preserve the freshness of her beauty?\n\nOne of the special virtues of rosemary, for instance, was its ability to\nmake old folks young again. A story is told of a gouty and crooked old\nqueen, who sighed with longing regret to think that her young\ndancing-days were gone, so:--\n\n  \"Of rosmaryn she took six pownde,\n  And grounde it well in a stownde,\"\n\nAnd then mixed it with water, in which she bathed three times a day,\ntaking care to anoint her head with \"gode balm\" afterwards. In a very\nshort time her old flesh fell away, and she became so young, tender, and\nfresh, that she began to look out for a husband. [13]\n\nThe common fennel (_Foeniculum vulgare_) was supposed to give strength\nto the constitution, and was regarded as highly restorative. Longfellow,\nin his \"Goblet of Life,\" apparently alludes to our fennel:--\n\n  \"Above the lowly plant it towers,\n  The fennel, with its yellow flowers;\n  And in an earlier age than ours\n  Was gifted with the wondrous powers\n    Lost vision to restore.\n\n  It gave new strength and fearless mood,\n  And gladiators, fierce and rude,\n  Mingled it in their daily food,\n  And he who battled and subdued,\n    The wreath of fennel wore.\"\n\nThe lady's-mantle, too (_Alchemilla vulgaris_), was once in great\nrequest, for, according to Hoffman, it had the power of \"restoring\nfeminine beauty, however faded, to its early freshness;\" and the wild\ntansy (_Tanacetum vulgare_), laid to soak in buttermilk for nine days,\nhad the reputation of \"making the complexion very fair.\" [14] Similarly,\nalso, the great burnet saxifrage was said to remove freckles; and\naccording to the old herbalists, an infusion of the common centaury\n(_Erythroea centaurium_) possessed the same property. [15] The hawthorn,\ntoo, was in repute among the fair sex, for, according to an old piece of\nproverbial lore:--\n\n  \"The fair maid who, the first of May,\n  Goes to the fields at break of day,\n  And washes in dew from the hawthorn tree,\n  Will ever after handsome be;\"\n\nAnd the common fumitory, \"was used when gathered in wedding hours, and\nboiled in water, milk, and whey, as a wash for the complexion of rustic\nmaids.\" [16] In some parts of France the water-hemlock (_\u008cnanthe\ncrocata_), known with us as the \"dead-tongue,\" from its paralysing\neffects on the organs of voice, was used to destroy moles; and the\nyellow toad-flax (_Linaria vulgaris_) is described as \"cleansing the\nskin wonderfully of all sorts of deformity.\" Another plant of popular\nrenown was the knotted figwort (_Scrophularia nodosa_), for Gerarde\ncensures \"divers who doe rashly teach that if it be hanged about the\nnecke, or else carried about one, it keepeth a man in health.\" Coles,\nspeaking of the mugwort (_Artemisia vulgaris_), says that, \"if a footman\ntake mugwort and put it in his shoes in the morning, he may go forty\nmiles before noon and not be weary;\" but as far back as the time of\nPliny its remarkable properties were known, for he says, \"The wayfaring\nman that hath the herb tied about him feeleth no weariness at all, and\nhe can never be hurt by any poisonous medicine, by any wild beast,\nneither yet by the sun itself.\" The far-famed betony was long credited\nwith marvellous medicinal properties, and hence the old saying which\nrecommends a person when ill \"to sell his coat and buy betony.\" A\nspecies of thistle was once believed to have the curious virtue of\ndriving away melancholy, and was hence termed the \"melancholy thistle.\"\nAccording to Dioscorides, \"the root borne about one doth expel\nmelancholy and remove all diseases connected therewith,\" but it was to\nbe taken in wine.\n\nOn the other hand, certain plants have been credited at most periods\nwith hurtful and injurious properties. Thus, there is a popular idea\nthat during the flowering of the bean more cases of lunacy occur than at\nany other season. [17] It is curious to find the apple--such a widespread\ncurative--regarded as a bane, an illustration of which is given by Mr.\nConway. [18] In Swabia it is said that an apple plucked from a graft on\nthe whitethorn will, if eaten by a pregnant woman, increase her pains.\nOn the Continent, the elder, when used as a birch, is said to check\nboys' growth, a property ascribed to the knot-grass, as in Beaumont and\nFletcher's \"Coxcomb\" (Act ii. sc. 2):--\n\n  \"We want a boy extremely for this function,\n  Kept under for a year with milk and knot-grass.\"\n\nThe cat-mint, when chewed, created quarrelsomeness, a property said by\nthe Italians to belong to the rampion.\n\nOccasionally much attention in folk-medicine has been paid to lucky\nnumbers; a remedy, in order to prove efficacious, having to be performed\nin accordance with certain numerical rules. In Devonshire, poultices\nmust be made of seven different kinds of herbs, and a cure for thrush is\nthis:--\"Three rushes are taken from any running stream, passed\nseparately through the mouth of the infant, and then thrown back into\nthe water. As the current bears them away, so, it is believed, will the\nthrush leave the child.\"\n\nSimilarly, in Brandenburg, if a person is afflicted with dizziness, he\nis recommended to run after sunset, naked, three times through a field\nof flax; after doing so, the flax will at once \"take the dizziness to\nitself.\" A Sussex cure for ague is to eat sage leaves, fasting, nine\nmornings in succession; while Flemish folk-lore enjoins any one who has\nthe ague to go early in the morning to an old willow, make three knots\nin one of its branches, and say \"Good morrow, old one; I give thee the\ncold; good morrow, old one.\" A very common cure for warts is to tie as\nmany knots on a hair as there are warts, and to throw the hair away;\nwhile an Irish charm is to give the patient nine leaves of dandelion,\nthree leaves being eaten on three successive mornings. Indeed, the\nefficacy of numbers is not confined to any one locality; and Mr. Folkard\n[19] mentions an instance in Cuba where, \"thirteen cloves of garlic at\nthe end of a cord, worn round the neck for thirteen days, are considered\na safeguard against jaundice.\" It is necessary, however, that the\nwearer, in the middle of the night of the thirteenth day, should proceed\nto the corner of two streets, take off his garlic necklet, and, flinging\nit behind him, run home without turning round to see what has become of\nit. Similarly, six knots of elderwood are employed \"in a Yorkshire\nincantation to ascertain if beasts are dying from witchcraft.\" [20] In\nThuringia, on the extraction of a tooth, the person must eat three\ndaisies to be henceforth free from toothache. In Cornwall [21] bramble\nleaves are made use of in cases of scalds and inflammatory diseases.\nNine leaves are moistened with spring-water, and \"these are applied to\nthe burned or diseased parts.\" While this is being done, for every\nbramble leaf the following charm is repeated three times:--\n\n  \"There came three angels out of the east,\n  One brought fire and two brought frost;\n  Out fire and in frost,\n  In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.\"\n\nOf the thousand and one plants used in popular folk-medicine we can but\ngive a few illustrations, so numerous are these old cures for the ills\nto which flesh is heir. Thus, for deafness, the juice of onion has been\nlong recommended, and for chilblains, a Derbyshire cure is to thrash\nthem with holly, while in some places the juice of the leek mixed with\ncream is held in repute. To exterminate warts a host of plants have been\nrecommended; the juice of the dandelion being in favour in the Midland\ncounties, whereas in the North, one has but to hang a snail on a thorn,\nand as the poor creature wastes away the warts will disappear. In\nLeicestershire the ash is employed, and in many places the elder is\nconsidered efficacious. Another old remedy is to prick the wart with a\ngooseberry thorn passed through a wedding-ring; and according to a\nCornish belief, the first blackberry seen will banish warts. Watercress\nlaid against warts was formerly said to drive them away. A rustic\nspecific for whooping-cough in Hampshire is to drink new milk out of a\ncup made of the variegated holly; while in Sussex the excrescence found\non the briar, and popularly known as \"robin red-breast's cushion,\" is in\ndemand. In consumption and diseases of the lungs, St. Fabian's nettle,\nthe crocus, the betony, and horehound, have long been in request, and\nsea-southern-wood or mugwort, occasionally corrupted into \"muggons,\" was\nonce a favourite prescription in Scotland. A charming girl, whom\nconsumption had brought to the brink of the grave, was lamented by her\nlover, whereupon a good-natured mermaid sang to him:--\n\n  \"Wad ye let the bonnie May die in your hand,\n  And the mugwort flowering i' the land?\"\n\nThereupon, tradition says, he administered the juice of this life-giving\nplant to his fair lady-love, who \"arose and blessed the bestower for the\nreturn of health.\" Water in which peas have been boiled is given for\nmeasles, and a Lincolnshire recipe for cramp is cork worn on the person.\nA popular cure for ringworm in Scotland is a decoction of sun-spurge\n(_Euphorbia helioscopia_), or, as it is locally termed, \"mare's milk.\"\nIn the West of England to bite the first fern seen in spring is an\nantidote for toothache, and in certain parts of Scotland the root of the\nyellow iris chopped up and chewed is said to afford relief. Some, again,\nrecommend a double hazel-nut to be carried in the pocket, [22] and the\nelder, as a Danish cure, has already been noticed.\n\nVarious plants were, in days gone by, used for the bites of mad dogs and\nto cure hydrophobia. Angelica, madworts, and several forms of lichens\nwere favourite remedies. The root of balaustrium, with storax,\ncypress-nuts, soot, olive-oil, and wine was the receipt, according to\nBonaventura, of Cardinal Richelieu. Among other popular remedies were\nbeetroot, box leaves, cabbage, cucumbers, black currants, digitalis, and\neuphorbia. [23] A Russian remedy was _Genista sentoria_, and in Greece\nrose-leaves were used internally and externally as a poultice.\nHorse-radish, crane's-bill, strawberry, and herb-gerard are old remedies\nfor gout, and in Westphalia apple-juice mixed with saffron is\nadministered for jaundice; while an old remedy for boils is dock-tea.\nFor ague, cinquefoil and yarrow were recommended, and tansy leaves are\nworn in the shoe by the Sussex peasantry; and in some places common\ngroundsel has been much used as a charm. Angelica was in olden times\nused as an antidote for poisons. The juice of the arum was considered\ngood for the plague, and Gerarde tells us that Henry VIII. was, \"wont to\ndrink the distilled water of broom-flowers against surfeits and diseases\nthereof arising.\" An Irish recipe for sore-throat is a cabbage leaf tied\nround the throat, and the juice of cabbage taken with honey was formerly\ngiven as a cure for hoarseness or loss of voice. [24] Agrimony, too, was\nonce in repute for sore throats, cancers, and ulcers; and as far back as\nthe time of Pliny the almond was given as a remedy for inebriety. For\nrheumatism the burdock was in request, and many of our peasantry keep a\npotato in their pocket as charms, some, again, carrying a chestnut,\neither begged or stolen. As an antidote for fevers the carnation was\nprescribed, and the cowslip, and the hop, have the reputation of\ninducing sleep. The dittany and plantain, like the golden-rod, nicknamed\n\"wound-weed,\" have been used for the healing of wounds, and the\napplication of a dock-leaf for the sting of a nettle is a well-known\ncure among our peasantry, having been embodied in the old familiar\nadage:--\n\n  \"Nettle out, dock in--\n  Dock remove the nettle-sting,\"\n\nOf which there are several versions; as in Wiltshire, where the child\nuses this formula:--\n\n         \"Out 'ettle\n         In dock.\n  Dock shall ha'a a new smock,\n         'Ettle zbant\n         Ha' nanun.\"\n\nThe young tops of the common nettle are still made by the peasantry into\nnettle-broth, and, amongst other directions enjoined in an old Scotch\nrhyme, it is to be cut in the month of June, \"ere it's in the blume\":--\n\n  \"Cou' it by the auld wa's,\n   Cou' it where the sun ne'er fa'\n  Stoo it when the day daws,\n   Cou' the nettle early.\"\n\nThe juice of fumitory is said to clear the sight, and the kennel-wort\nwas once a popular specific for the king's-evil. As disinfectants,\nwormwood and rue were much in demand; and hence Tusser says:--\n\n  \"What savour is better, if physicke be true,\n  For places infected, than wormwood and rue?\"\n\nFor depression, thyme was recommended, and a Manx preservative against\nall kinds of infectious diseases is ragwort. The illustrations we have\ngiven above show in how many ways plants have been in demand as popular\ncuratives. And although an immense amount of superstition has been\ninterwoven with folk-medicine, there is a certain amount of truth in the\nmany remedies which for centuries have been, with more or less success,\nemployed by the peasantry, both at home and abroad.\n\n\nFootnotes:\n\n\n1. See Tylor's \"Primitive Culture,\" ii.\n\n2. See Folkard's \"Plant-lore Legends and Lyrics,\" p. 164.\n\n3. \"Mystic Trees and Shrubs,\" p. 717.\n\n4. Folkard's \"Plant-lore,\" p. 379.\n\n5. Hunt's \"Popular Romances of the West of England,\" 1871, p. 415\n\n6. Folkard's \"Plant-lore Legends and Lyrics,\" p. 216.\n\n7. See Black's \"Folk-medicine,\" 1883, p.195.\n\n8. _Quarterly Review_, cxiv. 245.\n\n9. \"Sacred Trees and Flowers,\" _Quarterly Review_, cxiv. 244.\n\n10. Folkard's \"Plant Legends,\" 364.\n\n11. _Fraser's Magazine_, 1870, p. 591.\n\n12. \"Mystic Trees and Plants;\" _Fraser's Magazine_, 1870, p. 708.\n\n13. \"Reliquiae Antiquse,\" Wright and Halliwell, i. 195; _Quarterly Review_,\n     1863, cxiv. 241.\n\n14. Coles, \"The Art of Simpling,\" 1656.\n\n15. Anne Pratt's \"Flowering Plants of Great Britain,\" iv. 9.\n\n16. Black's \"Folk-medicine,\" p. 201.\n\n17. Folkard's \"Plant-Lore Legends and Lyrics,\" p. 248.\n\n18. _Fraser's Magazine_, 1870, p. 591.\n\n19. \"Plant-Lore Legends and Lyrics,\" p. 349.\n\n20. Black's \"Folk-medicine,\" p. 185.\n\n21. See Hunt's \"Popular Romances of the West of England.\"\n\n22. Black's \"Folk-medicine,\" p. 193.\n\n23. \"Rabies or Hydrophobia,\" T. M. Dolan, 1879, p. 238.\n\n24. Black's \"Folk-medicine,\" p. 193.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII.\n\nPLANTS AND THEIR LEGENDARY HISTORY.\n\n\nMany of the legends of the plant-world have been incidentally alluded to\nin the preceding pages. Whether we review their mythological history as\nembodied in the traditionary stories of primitive times, or turn to the\nexisting legends of our own and other countries in modern times, it is\nclear that the imagination has at all times bestowed some of its richest\nand most beautiful fancies on trees and flowers. Even, too, the rude and\nignorant savage has clothed with graceful conceptions many of the plants\nwhich, either for their grandeur or utility, have attracted his notice.\nThe old idea, again, of metamorphosis, by which persons under certain\npeculiar cases were changed into plants, finds a place in many of the\nmodern plant-legends. Thus there is the well-known story of the wayside\nplantain, commonly termed \"way-bread,\" which, on account of its so\npersistently haunting the track of man, has given rise to the German\nstory that it was formerly a maiden who, whilst watching by the wayside\nfor her lover, was transformed into this plant. But once in seven years\nit becomes a bird, either the cuckoo, or the cuckoo's servant, the\n\"dinnick,\" as it is popularly called in Devonshire, the German\n\"wiedhopf\" which is said to follow its master everywhere.\n\nThis story of the plantain is almost identical with one told in Germany\nof the endive or succory. A patient girl, after waiting day by day for\nher betrothed for many a month, at last, worn out with watching, sank\nexhausted by the wayside and expired. But before many days had passed, a\nlittle flower with star-like blossoms sprang up on the spot where the\nbroken-hearted maiden had breathed her final sigh, which was henceforth\nknown as the \"Wegewarte,\" the watcher of the road. Mr. Folkard quotes an\nancient ballad of Austrian Silesia which recounts how a young girl\nmourned for seven years the loss of her lover, who had fallen in war.\nBut when her friends tried to console her, and to procure for her\nanother lover, she replied, \"I shall cease to weep only when I become a\nwild-flower by the wayside.\" By the North American Indians, the plantain\nor \"way-bread\" is \"the white man's foot,\" to which Longfellow, in\nspeaking of the English settlers, alludes in his \"Hiawatha\":--\n\n\n  \"Wheresoe'er they move, before them\n  Swarms the stinging fly, the Ahmo,\n  Swarms the bee, the honey-maker;\n  Wheresoe'er they tread, beneath them\n  Springs a flower unknown among us,\n  Springs the white man's foot in blossom.\"\n\n\nBetween certain birds and plants there exists many curious traditions,\nas in the case of the nightingale and the rose. According to a piece of\nPersian folklore, whenever the rose is plucked, the nightingale utters a\nplaintive cry, because it cannot endure to see the object of its love\ninjured. In a legend told by the Persian poet Attar, we are told how all\nthe birds appeared before Solomon, and complained that they were unable\nto sleep from the nightly wailings of the nightingale. The bird, when\nquestioned as to the truth of this statement, replied that his love for\nthe rose was the cause of his grief. Hence this supposed love of the\nnightingale for the rose has been frequently the subject of poetical\nallusion. Lord Byron speaks of it in the \"Giaour\":--\n\n  \"The rose o'er crag or vale,\n  Sultana of the nightingale,\n   The maid for whom his melody,\n   His thousand songs are heard on high,\n  Blooms blushing to her lover's tale,\n  His queen, the garden queen, his rose,\n  Unbent by winds, unchilled by snows.\"\n\nThackeray, too, has given a pleasing rendering of this favourite\nlegend:--\n\n  \"Under the boughs I sat and listened still,\n   I could not have my fill.\n  'How comes,' I said, 'such music to his bill?\n  Tell me for whom he sings so beautiful a trill.'\n\n  'Once I was dumb,' then did the bird disclose,\n   'But looked upon the rose,\n  And in the garden where the loved one grows,\n  I straightway did begin sweet music to compose.'\"\n\nMrs. Browning, in her \"Lay of the Early Rose,\" alludes to this legend,\nand Moore in his \"Lalla Rookh\" asks:--\n\n  \"Though rich the spot\n   With every flower this earth has got,\n  What is it to the nightingale,\n   If there his darling rose is not?\"\n\nBut the rose is not the only plant for which the nightingale is said to\nhave a predilection, there being an old notion that its song is never\nheard except where cowslips are to be found in profusion. Experience,\nhowever, only too often proves the inaccuracy of this assertion. We may\nalso quote the following note from Yarrell's \"British Birds\" (4th ed.,\ni. 316):--\"Walcott, in his 'Synopsis of British Birds' (vol. ii. 228),\nsays that the nightingale has been observed to be met with only where\nthe _cowslip_ grows kindly, and the assertion receives a partial\napproval from Montagu; but whether the statement be true or false, its\nconverse certainly cannot be maintained, for Mr. Watson gives the\ncowslip (_Primula veris_) as found in all the 'provinces' into which he\ndivides Great Britain, as far north as Caithness and Shetland, where we\nknow that the nightingale does not occur.\" A correspondent of _Notes and\nQueries_ (5th Ser. ix. 492) says that in East Sussex, on the borders of\nKent, \"the cowslip is quite unknown, but nightingales are as common as\nblackberries there.\"\n\nA similar idea exists in connection with hops; and, according to a\ntradition current in Yorkshire, the nightingale made its first\nappearance in the neighbourhood of Doncaster when hops were planted. But\nthis, of course, is purely imaginary, and in Hargrove's \"History of\nKnaresborough\" (1832) we read: \"In the opposite wood, called Birkans\nWood (opposite to the Abbey House), during the summer evenings, the\nnightingale:--\n\n  'Sings darkling, and, in shadiest covert hid,\n  Tunes her nocturnal lay.'\"\n\nOf the numerous stories connected with the origin of the mistletoe, one\nis noticed by Lord Bacon, to the effect that a certain bird, known as\nthe \"missel-bird,\" fed upon a particular kind of seed, which, through\nits incapacity to digest, it evacuated whole, whereupon the seed,\nfalling on the boughs of trees, vegetated and produced the mistletoe.\nThe magic springwort, which reveals hidden treasures, has a mysterious\nconnection with the woodpecker, to which we have already referred. Among\nfurther birds which are in some way or other connected with plants is\nthe eagle, which plucks the wild lettuce, with the juice of which it\nsmears its eyes to improve its vision; while the hawk was supposed, for\nthe same purpose, to pluck the hawk-bit.\n\nSimilarly, writes Mr. Folkard, [1] pigeons and doves made use of\nvervain, which was termed \"pigeon's-grass.\" Once more, the cuckoo,\naccording to an old proverbial rhyme, must eat three meals of cherries\nbefore it ceases its song; and it was formerly said that orchids sprang\nfrom the seed of the thrush and the blackbird. Further illustrations\nmight be added, whereas some of the many plants named after well-known\nbirds are noticed elsewhere.\n\nAn old Alsatian belief tells us that bats possessed the power of\nrendering the eggs of storks unfruitful. Accordingly, when once a\nstork's egg was touched by a bat it became sterile; and in order to\npreserve it from the injurious influence, the stork placed in its nest\nsome branches of the maple, which frightened away every intruding\nbat. [2] There is an amusing legend of the origin of the bramble:--The\ncormorant was once a wool merchant. He entered into partnership with the\nbramble and the bat, and they freighted a large ship with wool. She was\nwrecked, and the firm became bankrupt. Since that disaster the bat\nskulks about till midnight to avoid his creditors, the cormorant is for\never diving into the deep to discover its foundered vessel, while the\nbramble seizes hold of every passing sheep to make up his loss by\nstealing the wool.\n\nReturning to the rose, we may quote one or two legendary stories\nrelating to its origin. Thus Sir John Mandeville tells us how when a\nholy maiden of Bethlehem, \"blamed with wrong and slandered,\" was doomed\nto death by fire, \"she made her prayers to our Lord that He would help\nher, as she was not guilty of that sin;\" whereupon the fire was suddenly\nquenched, and the burning brands became red \"roseres,\" and the brands\nthat were not kindled became white \"roseres\" full of roses. \"And these\nwere the first roseres and roses, both white and red, that ever any man\nsoughte.\" Henceforth, says Mr. King,[3] the rose became the flower of\nmartyrs. \"It was a basket full of roses that the martyr Saint Dorothea\nsent to the notary of Theophilus from the garden of Paradise; and roses,\nsays the romance, sprang up all over the field of Ronce-vaux, where\nRoland and the douze pairs had stained the soil with their blood.\"\n\nThe colour of the rose has been explained by various legends, the Turks\nattributing its red colour to the blood of Mohammed. Herrick, referring\nto one of the old classic stories of its divine origin, writes:--\n\n \"Tis said, as Cupid danced among the gods, he down the\n  nectar flung,\n Which, on the white rose being shed, made it for ever after red.\"\n\nA pretty origin has been assigned to the moss-rose (_Rosa muscosa_):--\n\"The angel who takes care of flowers, and sprinkles upon them the dew in\nthe still night, slumbered on a spring day in the shade of a rosebush,\nand when she awoke she said, 'Most beautiful of my children, I thank\nthee for thy refreshing odour and cooling shade; could you now ask any\nfavour, how willingly would I grant it!' 'Adorn me then with a new\ncharm,' said the spirit of the rose-bush; and the angel adorned the\nloveliest of flowers with the simple moss.\"\n\nA further Roumanian legend gives another poetic account of the rose's\norigin. \"It is early morning, and a young princess comes down into her\ngarden to bathe in the silver waves of the sea. The transparent\nwhiteness of her complexion is seen through the slight veil which covers\nit, and shines through the blue waves like the morning star in the azure\nsky. She springs into the sea, and mingles with the silvery rays of the\nsun, which sparkle on the dimples of the laughing waves. The sun stands\nstill to gaze upon her; he covers her with kisses, and forgets his duty.\nOnce, twice, thrice has the night advanced to take her sceptre and reign\nover the world; twice had she found the sun upon her way. Since that day\nthe lord of the universe has changed the princess into a rose; and this\nis why the rose always hangs her head and blushes when the sun gazes on\nher.\" There are a variety of rose-legends of this kind in different\ncountries, the universal popularity of this favourite blossom having\nfrom the earliest times made it justly in repute; and according to the\nHindoo mythologists, Pagoda Sin, one of the wives of Vishnu, was\ndiscovered in a rose--a not inappropriate locality.\n\nLike the rose, many plants have been extensively associated with sacred\nlegendary lore, a circumstance which frequently explains their origin. A\npretty legend, for instance, tells us how an angel was sent to console\nEve when mourning over the barren earth. Now, no flower grew in Eden,\nand the driving snow kept falling to form a pall for earth's untimely\nfuneral after the fall of man. But as the angel spoke, he caught a flake\nof falling snow, breathed on it, and bade it take a form, and bud and\nblow. Ere it reached the ground it had turned into a beautiful flower,\nwhich Eve prized more than all the other fair plants in Paradise; for\nthe angel said to her:--\n\n  \"This is an earnest, Eve, to thee,\n  That sun and summer soon shall be.\"\n\nThe angel's mission ended, he departed, but where he had stood a ring of\nsnowdrops formed a lovely posy.\n\nThis legend reminds us of one told by the poet Shiraz, respecting the\norigin of the forget-me-not:--\"It was in the golden morning of the early\nworld, when an angel sat weeping outside the closed gates of Eden. He\nhad fallen from his high estate through loving a daughter of earth, nor\nwas he permitted to enter again until she whom he loved had planted the\nflowers of the forget-me-not in every corner of the world. He returned\nto earth and assisted her, and they went hand in hand over the world\nplanting the forget-me-not. When their task was ended, they entered\nParadise together; for the fair woman, without tasting the bitterness of\ndeath, became immortal like the angel, whose love her beauty had won,\nwhen she sat by the river twining the forget-me-not in her hair.\" This\nis a more poetic legend than the familiar one given in Mill's \"History\nof Chivalry,\" which tells how the lover, when trying to pick some\nblossoms of the myosotis for his lady-love, was drowned, his last words\nas he threw the flowers on the bank being \"Forget me not.\" Another\nlegend, already noticed, would associate it with the magic spring-wort,\nwhich revealed treasure-caves hidden in the mountains. The traveller\nenters such an opening, but after filling his pockets with gold, pays no\nheed to the fairy's voice, \"Forget not the best,\" _i.e.,_ the spring-wort,\nand is severed in twain by the mountain clashing together.\n\nIn speaking of the various beliefs relative to plant life in a previous\nchapter, we have enumerated some of the legends which would trace the\norigin of many plants to the shedding of human blood, a belief which is\na distinct survival of a very primitive form of belief, and enters very\nlargely into the stories told in classical mythology. The dwarf elder is\nsaid to grow where blood has been shed, and it is nicknamed in Wales\n\"Plant of the blood of man,\" with which may be compared its English name\nof \"death-wort.\" It is much associated in this country with the Danes,\nand tradition says that wherever their blood was shed in battle, this\nplant afterwards sprang up; hence its names of Dane-wort, Dane-weed, or\nDane's-blood. One of the bell-flower tribe, the clustered bell-flower,\nhas a similar legend attached to it; and according to Miss Pratt, \"in\nthe village of Bartlow there are four remarkable hills, supposed to have\nbeen thrown up by the Danes as monumental memorials of the battle fought\nin 1006 between Canute and Edmund Ironside. Some years ago the clustered\nbell-flower was largely scattered about these mounds, the presence of\nwhich the cottagers attributed to its having sprung from the Dane's\nblood,\" under which name the flower was known in the neighbourhood.\n\nThe rose-coloured lotus or melilot is, from the legend, said to have\nbeen sprung from the blood of a lion slain by the Emperor Adrian; and,\nin short, folk-lore is rich in stories of this kind. Some legends are of\na more romantic kind, as that which explains the origin of the\nwallflower, known in Palestine as the \"blood-drops of Christ.\" In bygone\ndays a castle stood near the river Tweed, in which a fair maiden was\nkept prisoner, having plighted her troth and given her affection to a\nyoung heir of a hostile clan. But blood having been shed between the\nchiefs on either side, the deadly hatred thus engendered forbade all\nthoughts of a union. The lover tried various stratagems to obtain his\nfair one, and at last succeeded in gaining admission attired as a\nwandering troubadour, and eventually arranged that she should effect her\nescape, while he awaited her arrival with an armed force. But this plan,\nas told by Herrick, was unsuccessful:--\n\n  \"Up she got upon a wall,\n  Attempted down to slide withal;\n  But the silken twist untied,\n  She fell, and, bruised, she died.\n  Love, in pity to the deed,\n  And her loving luckless speed,\n  Twined her to this plant we call\n  Now the 'flower of the wall.'\"\n\nThe tea-tree in China, from its marked effect on the human constitution,\nhas long been an agent of superstition, and been associated with the\nfollowing legend, quoted by Schleiden. It seems that a devout and pious\nhermit having, much against his will, been overtaken by sleep in the\ncourse of his watchings and prayers, so that his eyelids had closed,\ntore them from his eyes and threw them on the ground in holy wrath. But\nhis act did not escape the notice of a certain god, who caused a\ntea-shrub to spring out from them, the leaves of which exhibit, \"the\nform of an eyelid bordered with lashes, and possess the gift of\nhindering sleep.\" Sir George Temple, in his \"Excursions in the\nMediterranean,\" mentions a legend relative to the origin of the\ngeranium. It is said that the prophet Mohammed having one day washed his\nshirt, threw it upon a mallow plant to dry; but when it was afterwards\ntaken away, its sacred contact with the mallow was found to have changed\nthe plant into a fine geranium, which now for the first time came into\nexistence.\n\n\n\nFootnotes:\n\n\n1. \"Plant-Lore Legends and Lyrics.\"\n\n2. Folkard's \"Plant Lore Legends and Lyrics,\" p. 430.\n\n3. \"Sacred Trees and Flowers,\" _Quarterly Review_, cxiv. 239.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII.\n\nMYSTIC PLANTS.\n\n\nThe mystic character and history of certain plants meet us in every age\nand country. The gradual evolution of these curious plants of belief\nmust, no doubt, partly be ascribed to their mythical origin, and in many\ncases to their sacred associations; while, in some instances, it is not\nsurprising that, \"any plant which produced a marked effect upon the\nhuman constitution should become an object of superstition.\" [1] A\nfurther reason why sundry plants acquired a mystic notoriety was their\npeculiar manner of growth, which, through not being understood by early\nbotanists, caused them to be invested with mystery. Hence a variety of\ncombinations have produced those mystic properties of trees and flowers\nwhich have inspired them with such superstitious veneration in our own\nand other countries. According to Mr. Conway, the apple, of all fruits,\nseems to have had the widest and most mystical history. Thus, \"Aphrodite\nbears it in her hand as well as Eve; the serpent guards it, the dragon\nwatches it. It is the healing fruit of the Arabian tribes. Azrael, the\nAngel of Death, accomplishes his mission by holding it to the nostrils,\nand in the prose Edda it is written, 'Iduna keeps in a box apples which\nthe gods, when they feel old age approaching, have only to taste to\nbecome young again.'\" Indeed, the legendary mythical lore connected with\nthe apple is most extensive, a circumstance which fully explains its\nmystic character. Further, as Mr. Folkard points out,[2] in the popular\ntales of all countries the apple is represented as the principal magical\nfruit, in support of which he gives several interesting illustrations.\nThus, \"In the German folk-tale of 'The Man of Iron,' a princess throws a\ngolden apple as a prize, which the hero catches three times, and carries\noff and wins.\" And in a French tale, \"A singing apple is one of the\nmarvels which Princess Belle-Etoile and her brothers and her cousin\nbring from the end of the world.\" The apple figures in many an Italian\ntale, and holds a prominent place in the Hungarian story of the Iron\nLadislas.[3] But many of these so-called mystic trees and plants have\nbeen mentioned in the preceding pages in their association with\nlightning, witchcraft, demonology, and other branches of folk-lore,\nalthough numerous other curious instances are worthy of notice, some of\nwhich are collected together in the present chapter. Thus the nettle and\nmilfoil, when carried about the person, were believed to drive away\nfear, and were, on this account, frequently worn in time of danger. The\nlaurel preserved from misfortune, and in olden times we are told how the\nsuperstitious man, to be free from every chance of ill-luck, was wont to\ncarry a bay leaf in his mouth from morning till night.\n\nOne of the remarkable virtues of the fruit of the balm was its\nprolonging the lives of those who partook of it to four or five hundred\nyears, and Albertus Magnus, summing up the mystic qualities of the\nheliotrope, gives this piece of advice:--\"Gather it in August, wrap it\nin a bay leaf with a wolf's tooth, and it will, if placed under the\npillow, show a man who has been robbed where are his goods, and who has\ntaken them. Also, if placed in a church, it will keep fixed in their\nplaces all the women present who have broken their marriage vow.\" It was\nformerly supposed that the cucumber had the power of killing by its\ngreat coldness, and the larch was considered impenetrable by fire;\nEvelyn describing it as \"a goodly tree, which is of so strange a\ncomposition that 'twill hardly burn.\"\n\nIn addition to guarding the homestead from ill, the hellebore was\nregarded as a wonderful antidote against madness, and as such is spoken\nof by Burton, who introduces it among the emblems of his frontispiece,\nin his \"Anatomie of Melancholy:\"--\n\n  \"Borage and hellebore fill two scenes,\n  Sovereign plants to purge the veins\n  Of melancholy, and cheer the heart\n  Of those black fumes which make it smart;\n  To clear the brain of misty fogs,\n  Which dull our senses and Soul clogs;\n  The best medicine that e'er God made\n  For this malady, if well assay'd.\"\n\nBut, as it has been observed, our forefathers, in strewing their floors\nwith this plant, were introducing a real evil into their houses, instead\nof an imaginary one, the perfume having been considered highly\npernicious to health.\n\nIn the many curious tales related of the mystic henbane may be quoted\none noticed by Gerarde, who says: \"The root boiled with vinegar, and the\nsame holden hot in the mouth, easeth the pain of the teeth. The seed is\nused by mountebank tooth-drawers, which run about the country, to cause\nworms to come forth of the teeth, by burning it in a chafing-dish of\ncoles, the party holding his mouth over the fume thereof; but some\ncrafty companions, to gain money, convey small lute-strings into the\nwater, persuading the patient that those small creepers came out of his\nmouth or other parts which he intended to cure.\" Shakespeare, it may be\nremembered, alludes to this superstition in \"Much Ado About Nothing\"\n(Act iii. sc. 2), where Leonato reproaches Don Pedro for sighing for the\ntoothache, which he adds \"is but a tumour or a worm.\" The notion is\nstill current in Germany, where the following incantation is employed:--\n\n  \"Pear tree, I complain to thee\n  Three worms sting me.\"\n\nThe henbane, too, according to a German belief, is said to attract rain,\nand in olden times was thought to produce sterility. Some critics have\nsuggested that it is the plant referred to in \"Macbeth\" by Banquo (Act\ni. sc. 3):--\n\n  \"Have we eaten of the insane root\n  That takes the reason prisoner?\"\n\nAlthough others think it is the hemlock. Anyhow, the henbane has long\nbeen in repute as a plant possessed of mysterious attributes, and Douce\nquotes the subjoined passage:--\"Henbane, called insana, mad, for the use\nthereof is perillous, for if it be eate or dronke, it breedeth madness,\nor slowe lykeness of sleepe.\" In days gone by, when the mandrake was an\nobject of superstitious veneration by reason of its supernatural\ncharacter, the Germans made little idols of its root, which were\nconsulted as oracles. Indeed, so much credence was attached to these\nimages, that they were manufactured in very large quantities for\nexportation to various other countries, and realised good prices.\nOftentimes substituted for the mandrake was the briony, which designing\npeople sold at a good profit. Gerarde informs us, \"How the idle drones,\nthat have little or nothing to do but eat and drink, have bestowed some\nof their time in carving the roots of briony, forming them to the shape\nof men and women, which falsifying practice hath confirmed the error\namongst the simple and unlearned people, who have taken them upon their\nreport to be the true mandrakes.\" Oftentimes, too, the root of the\nbriony was trained to grow into certain eccentric shapes, which were\nused as charms. Speaking of the mandrake, we may note that in France it\nwas regarded as a species of elf, and nicknamed _main de gloire_; in\nconnection with which Saint-Palaye describes a curious superstition:--\n\"When I asked a peasant one day why he was gathering mistletoe, he told\nme that at the foot of the oaks on which the mistletoe grew he had a\nmandrake; that this mandrake had lived in the earth from whence the\nmistletoe sprang; that he was a kind of mole; that he who found him was\nobliged to give him food--bread, meat, and some other nourishment; and\nthat he who had once given him food was obliged to give it every day,\nand in the same quantity, without which the mandrake would assuredly\ncause the forgetful one to die. Two of his countrymen, whom he named to\nme, had, he said, lost their lives; but, as a recompense, this _main de\ngloire_ returned on the morrow double what he had received the previous\nday. If one paid cash for the _main de gloire's_ food one day, he would\nfind double the amount the following, and so with anything else. A\ncertain countryman, whom he mentioned as still living, and who had\nbecome very rich, was believed to have owed his wealth to the fact that\nhe had found one of these _mains de gloire_.\" Many other equally curious\nstories are told of the mandrake, a plant which, for its mystic\nqualities, has perhaps been unsurpassed; and it is no wonder that it was\na dread object of superstitious fear, for Moore, speaking of its\nappearance, says:--\n\n  \"Such rank and deadly lustre dwells,\n  As in those hellish fires that light\n  The mandrake's charnel leaves at night.\"\n\nBut these mandrake fables are mostly of foreign extraction and of very\nancient date. Dr. Daubeny, in his \"Roman Husbandry,\" has given a curious\ndrawing from the Vienna MS. of Dioscorides in the fifth century,\nrepresenting the Goddess of Discovery presenting to Dioscorides the root\nof the mandrake (of thoroughly human shape), which she has just pulled\nup, while the unfortunate dog which had been employed for that purpose\nis depicted in the agonies of death.\n\nBasil, writes Lord Bacon in his \"Natural History,\" if exposed too much\nto the sun, changes into wild thyme; and a Bavarian piece of folk-lore\ntells us that the person who, during an eclipse of the sun, throws an\noffering of palm with crumbs on the fire, will never be harmed by the\nsun. In Hesse, it is affirmed that with knots tied in willow one may\nslay a distant enemy; and according to a belief current in Iceland, the\n_Caltha palustris_, if taken with certain ceremonies and carried about,\nwill prevent the bearer from having an angry word spoken to him. The\nvirtues of the dittany were famous as far back as Plutarch's time, and\nGerarde speaks of its marvellous efficacy in drawing forth splinters of\nwood, &c., and in the healing of wounds, especially those \"made with\nenvenomed weapons, arrows shot out of guns, and such like.\"\n\nThen there is the old tradition to the effect that if boughs of oak be\nput into the earth, they will bring forth wild vines; and among the\nsupernatural qualities of the holly recorded by Pliny, we are told that\nits flowers cause water to freeze, that it repels lightning, and that if\na staff of its wood be thrown at any animal, even if it fall short of\ntouching it, the animal will be so subdued by its influence as to return\nand lie down by it. Speaking, too, of the virtues of the peony, he thus\nwrites:--\"It hath been long received, and confirmed by divers trials,\nthat the root of the male peony dried, tied to the necke, doth helpe the\nfalling sickness, and likewise the incubus, which we call the mare. The\ncause of both these diseases, and especially of the epilepsie from the\nstomach, is the grossness of the vapours, which rise and enter into the\ncells of the brain, and therefore the working is by extreme and subtle\nalternation which that simple hath.\" Worn as an amulet, the peony was a\npopular preservative against enchantment.\n\n\nFootnotes:\n\n1. _Fraser's Magazine_ 1870, p. 709.\n\n2. \"Plant Lore Legends and Lyrics,\" p. 224.\n\n3. See Miss Busk's \"Folk-lore of Rome.\"","title":"The Folk-lore of Plants","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":76706}