The analogy existing between the vegetable and animal worlds, and the resemblances between human and tree life, have been observed by man from the most remote periods of which we have any records. Primitive man, watching the marvellous changes in trees and plants, which accurately marked not only the seasons of the year, but even the periods of time in a day, could not fail to be struck with a feeling of awe at the mysterious invisible power which silently guided such wondrous and incomprehensible operations. Hence it is not astonishing that the early inhabitants of the earth should have invested with supernatural attributes the tree, which in the gloom and chill of Winter stood gaunt, bare, and sterile, but in the early Spring hastened to greet the welcome warmth-giving Sun by investing itself with a brilliant canopy of verdure, and in the scorching heat of Summer afforded a refreshing shade beneath its leafy boughs. So we find these men of old, who had learnt to reverence the mysteries of vegetation, forming conceptions of vast cosmogonic world- or cloud-trees overshadowing the universe; mystically typifying creation and regeneration, and yielding the divine ambrosia or food of immortality, the refreshing and life-inspiring rain, and the mystic fruit which imparted knowledge and wisdom to those who partook of it. So, again, we find these nebulous overspreading world-trees connected with the mysteries of death, and giving shelter to the souls of the departed in the solemn shade of their dense foliage.

Looking upon vegetation as symbolical of life and generation, man, in course of time, connected the origin of his species with these shadowy cloud-trees, and hence arose the belief that humankind first sprang from Ash and Oak-trees, or derived their being from Holda, the cloud-goddess who combined in her person the form of a lovely woman and the trunk of a mighty tree. In after years trees were almost universally regarded either as sentient beings or as constituting the abiding places of spirits whose existence was bound up in the lives of the trees they inhabited. Hence arose the conceptions of Hamadryads, Dryads, Sylvans, Tree-nymphs, Elves, Fairies, and other beneficent spirits who peopled forests and dwelt in individual trees—not only in the Old World, but in the dense woods of North America, where the Mik-amwes, like Puck, has from time immemorial frolicked by moonlight in the forest openings. Hence, also, sprang up the morbid notion of trees being haunted by demons, mischievous imps, ghosts, nats, and evil spirits, whom it was deemed by the ignorant and superstitious necessary to propitiate by sacrifices, offerings, and mysterious rites and dances. Remnants of this superstitious tree-worship are still extant in some European countries. The Irminsul of the Germans and the Central Oak of the Druids were of the same family as the Asherah of the Semitic nations. In England, this primeval superstition has its descendants in the village maypole bedizened with ribbons and flowers, and the Jack-in-the-Green with its attendant devotees and whirling dancers. The modern Christmas-tree, too, although but slightly known in Germany at the beginning of the present century, is evidently a remnant of the pagan tree-worship; and it is somewhat remarkable that a similar tree is common among the Burmese, who call it the Padaytha-bin. This Turanian Christmas-tree is made by the inhabitants of towns, who deck its Bamboo twigs with all sorts of presents, and pile its roots with blankets, cloth, earthenware, and other useful articles. The wealthier classes contribute sometimes a Ngway Padaytha, or silver Padaytha, the branches of which are hung with rupees and smaller silver coins wrapped in tinsel or coloured paper. These trees are first carried in procession, and afterwards given to monasteries on the occasion of certain festivals or the funerals of Buddhist monks. They represent the wishing-tree, which, according to Burmese mythology, grows in the Northern Island and heaven of the nats or spirits, where it bears on its fairy branches whatever may be wished for.

The ancient conception of human trees can be traced in the superstitious endeavours of ignorant peasants to get rid of diseases by transferring them to vicarious trees, or rather to the spirits who are supposed to dwell in them; and it is the same idea that impels simple rustics to bury Elder-sticks and Peach-leaves to which they have imparted warts, &c. The recognised analogy between the life of plants and that of man, and the cherished superstition that trees were the homes of living and sentient spirits, undoubtedly influenced the poets of the ancients in forming their conceptions of heroes and heroines metamorphosed into trees and flowers; and traces of the old belief are to be found in the custom of planting a tree on the birth of an infant; the tree being thought to symbolise human life in its destiny of growth, production of fruit, and multiplication of its species; and, when fully grown, giving shade, shelter, and protection. This pleasant rite is still extant in our country as well as in Germany, France, Italy, and Russia; and from it has probably arisen a custom now becoming very general of planting a tree to commemorate any special occasion. Nor is the belief confined to the Old World, for Mr. Leland has quite recently told us that he observed near the tent of a North American Indian two small evergreens, which were most carefully tended. On enquiry he found the reason to be that when a child is born, or is yet young, its parent chooses a shrub, which growing as the child grows, will, during the child’s absence, or even in after years, indicate by its appearance whether the human counterpart be ill or well, alive or dead. In one of the Quadi Indian stories it is by means of the sympathetic tree that the hero learns his brother’s death.

In the middle ages, the old belief in trees possessing intelligence was utilised by the monks, who have embodied the conception in many mediÆval legends, wherein trees are represented as bending their boughs and offering their fruits to the Virgin and her Divine Infant. So, again, during the flight of the Holy Family into Egypt, trees are said to have opened and concealed the fugitives from Herod’s brutal soldiery. Certain trees (notably the Aspen) are reputed to have been accursed and to have shuddered and trembled ever after on account of their connexion with the tragedy of Calvary; while others are said to have undergone a similar doom because they were attainted by the suicide of the traitor Judas Iscariot.

Seeing that the reverence and worship paid to trees by the ignorant and superstitious people was an institution impossible to uproot, the early Christian Church sought to turn it to account, and therefore consecrated old and venerated trees, built shrines beneath their shade, or placed on their trunks crucifixes and images of the Blessed Virgin. Legends connecting trees with holy personages, miracles, and sacred subjects were, in after years, freely disseminated; one of the most remarkable being the marvellous history of the Tree of Adam, in which it is sought to connect the Tree of Paradise with the Tree of Calvary. Evelyn summarises this misty tradition in the following sentence:—“Trees and woods have twice saved the whole world: first, by the Ark, then by the Cross; making full amends for the evil fruit of the tree in Paradise by that which was borne on the tree in Golgotha.” In course of time the flowers and plants which the ancients had dedicated to their pagan deities were transferred by the Christian Church to the shrines of the Virgin and sainted personages; this is especially noticeable in the plants formerly dedicated to Venus and Freyja, which, as being the choicest as well as the most popular, became, in honour of the Virgin Mary, Our Lady’s plants. Vast numbers of flowers were in course of time appropriated by the Church, and consecrated to her saints and martyrs—the selection being governed generally by the fact that the flower bloomed on or about the day on which the Church celebrated the saint’s feast. These appropriations enabled the Roman Catholics to compile a complete calendar of flowers for every day in the year, in which each flower is dedicated to a particular saint. But if the most beautiful flowers and plants were taken under the protection of the Church, and dedicated to the memory of her holiest and most venerated members, so, also, certain trees, plants, and flowers—which, either on account of their noxious properties, or because of some legendary associations, were under a ban—became relegated to the service of the Devil and his minions. Hence we find a large group of plants associated with enchanters, sorcerers, wizards and witches, many of which betray in their nomenclature their Satanic association, and are, even at the present day, regarded suspiciously as ill-omened and unlucky. These are the plants which, in the dark days of witchcraft and superstition, were invested with mysterious and magical properties,—the herbs which were employed by hags and witches in their heathenish incantations, and from which they brewed their potions and hell-broths. Thus Ben Jonson, in his fragment, ‘The Sad Shepherd,’ makes one of his characters say, when speaking of a witch:—

The association of plants with magic, sorcery, and the black art dates from remote times. The blind Norse god HÖdr slew Baldr with a twig of Mistletoe. In the battles recorded in the Vedas as being fought by the gods and the demons, the latter employ poisonous and magical herbs which the gods counteract with counter-poisons and health-giving plants. Hermes presented to Ulysses the magical Moly wherewith to nullify the effects of the potions and spells of the enchantress Circe, who was well acquainted with all sorts of magical herbs. The Druids professed to know the secrets of many magical plants which they gathered with mysterious and occult rites. The Vervain, Selago, Mistletoe, Oak, and Rowan were all said by these ancient priests and lawgivers to be possessed of supernatural properties; and remnants of the old belief in their magical powers are still extant.

In works on the subject of plant lore hitherto published in England, scarcely any reference has been made to the labours in the field of comparative mythology of Max MÜller, Grimm, Kuhn, Mannhardt, De Gubernatis, and other eminent scholars, whose erudite and patient investigations have resulted in the accumulation of a vast amount of valuable information respecting the traditions and superstitions connected with the plant kingdom. Mr. Kelly’s interesting work on Indo-European Tradition, published some years ago, dealt, among other subjects, with that of plant lore, and drew attention to the analogy existing between the myths and folk-lore of India and Europe relating more especially to plants which were reputed to possess magical properties. Among such plants, peculiar interest attaches to a group which, according to Aryan tradition, sprang from lightning—the embodiment of fire, the great quickening agent: this group embraces the Hazel, the Thorn, the Hindu Sami, the Hindu Palasa, with its European congener the Rowan, and the Mistletoe: the two last-named plants were, as we have seen, employed in Druidic rites. These trees are considered of good omen and as protectives against sorcery and witchcraft: from all of them wishing-rods (called in German WÜnschelruthen) and divining-rods have been wont to be fashioned—magical wands with which, in some countries, cattle are still struck to render them prolific, hidden springs are indicated, and mineral wealth is discovered. Such a rod was thought to be the caduceus of the god Hermes, or Mercury, described by Homer as being a rod of prosperity and wealth. All these rods are cut with a forked end, a shape held to be symbolic of lightning and a rude effigy of the human form. It is interesting to note that in the Rigveda the human form is expressly attributed to the pieces of Asvattha wood used for kindling the sacred fire—a purpose fulfilled by the Thorn in the chark or instrument employed for producing fire by the Greeks. Another group of plants also connected with fire and lightning comprises the Mandrake (the root of which is forked like the human form), the Fern Polypodium Filix mas (which has large pinnate leaves), the Sesame (called in India Thunderbolt-flower), the Spring-wort, and the Luck-flower. The Mandrake and Fern, like King Solomon’s Baharas, are said to shine at night, and to leap about like a Will-o’the-wisp: indeed, in Thuringia, the Fern is known as Irrkraut, or Misleading Herb, and in Franche ComtÉ this herb is spoken of as causing belated travellers to become light-headed or thunder-struck. The Mandrake-root and the Fern-seed have the magical property of granting the desires of their possessors, and in this respect resemble the Sesame and Luck-flower, which at their owners’ request will disclose treasure-caves, open the sides of mountains, clefts of rocks, or strong doors, and in fact render useless all locks, bolts, and bars, at will. The Spring-wort, through the agency of a bird, removes obstacles by means of an explosion caused by the electricity or lightning of which this plant is an embodiment. Akin to these are plants known in our country as Lunary or Moonwort and Unshoe-the-Horse, and called by the Italians Sferracavallo—plants which possess the property of unshoeing horses and opening locks. A Russian herb, the Rasrivtrava, belongs to the same group: this plant fractures chains and breaks open locks—virtues also claimed for the Vervain (Eisenkraut), the Primrose (SchlÜsselblume), the Fern, and the Hazel. It should be noted of the Mistletoe (which is endowed by nature with branches regularly forked, and has been classified with the lightning-plants), that the Swedes call it “Thunder-besom,” and attribute to it the same powers as to the Spring-wort. Like the Fly-Rowan (FlÖg-rÖnn) and the Asvattha, it is a parasite, and is thought to spring from seeds dropped by birds upon trees. Just as the Druids ascribed peculiar virtues to a Mistletoe produced by this means on an Oak, so do the Hindus especially esteem an Asvattha which has grown in like manner upon a Sami (Acacia Suma).

It is satisfactory to find that, although the Devil has had certain plants allotted to him wherewith to work mischief and destruction through the agency of demons, sorcerers, and witches, there are yet a great number of plants whose special mission it is to thwart Satanic machinations, to protect their owners from the dire effects of witchcraft or the Evil Eye, and to guard them from the perils of thunder and lightning. In our own country, Houseleek and Stonecrop are thought to fulfil this latter function; in Westphalia, the Donnerkraut (Orpine) is a thunder protective; in the Tyrol, the Alpine Rose guards the house-roof from lightning; and in the Netherlands, the St. John’s Wort, gathered before sunrise, is deemed a protection against thunderstorms. This last plant is especially hateful to evil spirits, and in days gone by was called Fuga dÆmonum, dispeller of demons. In Russia, a plant, called the Certagon, or Devil-chaser, is used to exorcise Satan or his fiends if they torment an afflicted mourner; and in the same country the Prikrit is a herb whose peculiar province it is to destroy calumnies with which mischief-makers may seek to interfere with the consummation of lovers’ bliss. Other plants induce concord, love, and sympathy, and others again enable the owner to forget sorrow.

Plants connected with dreams and visions have not hitherto received much notice; but, nevertheless, popular belief has attributed to some few—and notably the Elm, the Four-leaved Clover, and the Russian Son-trava—the subtle power of procuring dreams of a prophetic nature. Numerous plants have been thought by the superstitious to portend certain results to the sleeper when forming the subject of his or her dreams. Many examples of this belief will be found scattered through these pages.

The legends attached to flowers may be divided into four classes—the mythological, the ecclesiastical, the historical, and the poetical. For the first-named we are chiefly indebted to Ovid, and to the Jesuit RenÉ Rapin, whose Latin poem De Hortorum Cultura contains much curious plant lore current in his time. His legends, like those of Ovid, nearly all relate to the transformation by the gods of luckless nymphs and youths into flowers and trees, which have since borne their names. Most of them refer to the blossoms of bulbous plants, which appear in the early Spring; and, as a rule, white flowers are represented as having originated from tears, and pink or red flowers from blushes or blood. The ecclesiastical legends are principally due to the old Catholic monks, who, while tending their flowers in the quietude and seclusion of monastery gardens, doubtless came to associate them with the memory of some favourite saint or martyr, and so allowed their gentle fancy to weave a pious fiction wherewith to perpetuate the memory of the saint in the name of the flower. For many of the historical legends we are also indebted to monastic writers, and they mostly pertain to favourite sons and daughters of the Church. Amongst what we have designated poetical legends must be included the numerous fairy tales in which flowers and plants play a not unimportant part, as well as the stories which connect plants with the doings of Trolls, Elves, Witches, and Demons. Many such legends, both English and foreign, will be found introduced in the following pages.

It has recently become the fashion to explain the origin of myths and legends by a theory which makes of them mere symbols of the phenomena appertaining to the solar system, or metaphors of the four seasons and the different periods in a day’s span. Thus we are told that, in the well-known story of the transformation of Daphne into a Laurel-bush, to enable her to escape the importunities of Apollo (see p.404), we ought not to conceive the idea of the handsome passionate god pursuing a coy nymph until in despair she calls on the water-gods to change her form, but that, on the contrary, we should regard the whole story as simply an allegory implying that “the dawn rushes and trembles through the sky, and fades away at the sudden appearance of the bright sun.” So, again, in the myth of Pan and Syrinx (p.559), in which the Satyr pursues the maiden who is transformed into the Reed from which Pan fashioned his pipes, the meaning intended to be conveyed is, we are told, that the blustering wind bends and breaks the swaying Rushes, through which it rustles and whistles. Prof. De Gubernatis, in his valuable work La Mythologie des Plantes, gives a number of clever explanations of old legends and myths, in accordance with the “Solar” theory, which are certainly ingenious, if somewhat monotonous. Let us take, as an example, the German story of the Watcher of the Road, which appears at page326. In this tale a lovely princess, abandoned for a rival by her attractive husband, pines away, and at last desiring to die if only she can be sure of going somewhere where she may always watch for him, is transformed into the wayside Endive or Succory. Here is the Professor’s explanation:—“Does not the fatal rival of the young princess, who cries herself to death on account of her dazzling husband’s desertion, and who even in death desires still to gaze on him, symbolise the humid night, which every evening allures the sun to her arms, and thus keeps him from the love of his bride, who awakens every day with the sun, just as does the flower of the Succory?” These scientific elucidations of myths, however dexterous and poetical they may be, do not appear to us applicable to plant legends, whose chief charm lies in their simplicity and appositeness; nor can we imagine why Aryan or other story-tellers should be deemed so destitute of inventive powers as to be obliged to limit all their tales to the description of celestial phenomena. In the Vedas, trees, flowers, and herbs are invoked to cause love, avert evil and danger, and neutralise spells and curses. The ancients must, therefore, have had an exalted idea of their nature and properties, and hence it is not surprising that they should have dedicated them to their deities, and that these deities should have employed them for supernatural purposes. Thus Indra conquered Vritra and slew demons by means of the Soma; Hermes presented the all-potent Moly to Ulysses; and Medea taught Jason how to use certain enchanted herbs; just as, later in the world’s history, Druids exorcised evil spirits with Mistletoe and Vervain, and sorcerers and wise women used St. John’s Wort and other plants to ward off demons and thunderbolts. The ancients evidently regarded their gods and goddesses as very human, and therefore it would seem unnecessary and unjust so to alter their tales about them as to explain away their obvious meaning.

Flowers are the companions of man throughout his life—his attendants to his last resting place. They are, as Mr. Ruskin says, precious always “to the child and the girl, the peasant and the manufacturing operative, to the grisette and the nun, the lover and the monk.” Nature, in scattering them over the earth’s surface, would seem to have designed to cheer and refresh its inhabitants by their varied colouring and fragrance, and to elevate them by their wondrous beauty and delicacy; from them, as old Parkinson truly wrote, “we may draw matter at all times, not onely to magnifie the Creator that hath given them such diversities of forms, sents, and colours, that the most cunning workman cannot imitate, ... but many good instructions also to our selves; that as many herbs and flowers, with their fragrant sweet smels do comfort and as it were revive the spirits, and perfume a whole house, even so such men as live vertuously, labouring to do good, and profit the Church, God, and the common wealth by their pains or pen, do as it were send forth a pleasing savour of sweet instructions.” The poet Wordsworth reminds us that

In these pages will be found many details as to the use of these beauteous gems of Nature, both by the ancient races of the world and by the people of our own generation; their adaptation to the Church’s ceremonial and to popular festivals; their use as portents, symbols, and emblems; and their employment as an adornment of the graves of loved ones. Much more could have been written, had space permitted, regarding their value to the architect and the herald. The Acanthus, Lotus, Trefoil, Lily, Vine, Ivy, Pomegranate, Oak, Palm, Acacia, and many other plants have been reproduced as ornaments by the sculptor, and it is a matter of tradition that to the majestic aspect of an avenue of trees we owe the lengthy aisle and fretted vault of the Gothic order of architecture. In the field of heraldry it is noticeable that many nations, families, and individuals have, in addition to their heraldic badges, adopted plants as special symbols, the circumstances of their adoption forming the groundwork of a vast number of legends: a glance at the index will show that some of these are to be discovered in the present work. Many towns and villages owe their names to trees or plants; and not a few English families have taken their surnames from members of the vegetable kingdom. In Scotland, the name of Frazer is derived from the Strawberry-leaves (fraises) borne on the family shield of arms, and the Gowans and Primroses also owe their names to plants. The Highland clans are all distinguished by the floral badge or Suieachantas which is worn in the bonnet. For the most part the plants adopted for these badges are evergreens; and it is said that the deciduous Oak which was selected by the Stuarts was looked upon as a portent of evil to the royal house.

The love of human kind for flowers would seem to be shared by many members of the feathered tribe. Poets have sung of the passion of the Nightingale for the Rose and of the fondness of the Bird of Paradise for the dazzling blooms of the Tropics: the especial liking, however, of one of this race—the Amblyornis inornata—for flowers is worthy of record, inasmuch as this bird-gardener not only erects for itself a bower, but surrounds it with a mossy sward, on which it continually deposits fresh flowers and fruit of brilliant hue, so arranged as to form an elegant parterre.

We have reached our limit, and can only just notice the old traditions relating to the sympathies and antipathies of plants. The Jesuit Kircher describes the hatred existing between Hemlock and Rue, Reeds and Fern, and Cyclamen and Cabbages as so intense, that one of them cannot live on the same ground with the other. The Walnut, it is believed, dislikes the Oak, the Rowan the Juniper, the White-thorn the Black-thorn; and there is said to be a mutual aversion between Rosemary, Lavender, the Bay-tree, Thyme, and Marjoram. On the other hand, the Rose is reported to love the Onion and Garlic, and to put forth its sweetest blooms when in propinquity to those plants; and a bond of fellowship is fabled to exist between a Fig-tree and Rue. Lord Bacon, noticing these traditionary sympathies and antipathies, explains them as simply the outcome of the nature of the plants, and his philosophy is not difficult to be understood by intelligent observers, for, as St. Anthony truly said, the great book of Nature, which contains but three leaves—the Heavens, the Earth, and the Sea—is open for all men alike.

PLANT LORE, LEGENDS, AND LYRICS.

CHAPTER I.
The World-Trees of the Ancients.

After Rome Pagan became Rome Christian, the priests of the Church of Christ recognised the importance of utilising the connexion which existed between plants and the old pagan worship, and bringing the floral world into active co-operation with the Christian Church by the institution of a floral symbolism which should be associated not only with the names of saints, but also with the Festivals of the Church.

But it was more especially upon the Virgin Mary that the early Church bestowed their floral symbolism. Mr. Hepworth Dixon, writing of those quiet days of the Virgin’s life, passed purely and tenderly among the flowers of Nazareth, says—“Hearing that the best years of her youth and womanhood were spent, before she yet knew grief, on this sunny hill and side slope, her feet being for ever among the Daisies, Poppies, and Anemones, which grow everywhere about, we have made her the patroness of all our flowers. The Virgin is our Rose of Sharon—our Lily of the Valley. The poetry no less than the piety of Europe has inscribed to her the whole bloom and colouring of the fields and hedges.”

The choicest flowers were wrested from the classic Juno, Venus, and Diana, and from the Scandinavian Bertha and Freyja, and bestowed upon the Madonna, whilst floral offerings of every sort were laid upon her shrines.

Her husband, Joseph, has allotted to him a white Campanula, which in Bologna is known as the little Staff of St. Joseph. In Tuscany the name of St. Joseph’s staff is given to the Oleander: a legend recounts that the good Joseph possessed originally only an ordinary staff, but that when the angel announced to him that he was destined to be the husband of the Virgin Mary, he became so radiant with joy, that his very staff flowered in his hand.

Before our Saviour’s birth, the Virgin Mary, strongly desiring to refresh herself with some luscious cherries that were hanging in clusters upon the branch of a tree, asked Joseph to gather some for her. He hesitated, and mockingly said—“Let the father of thy child present them to you.” Instantly the branch of the Cherry-tree inclined itself to the Virgin’s hand, and she plucked from it the refreshing fruit. On this account the Cherry has always been dedicated to the Virgin Mary. The Strawberry, also, is specially set apart to the Virgin’s use; and in the Isle of Harris a species of Beans, called Molluka Beans, are called, after her, the Virgin Mary’s Nuts.

At Bethlehem, the manger in which the Infant Jesus was laid after His birth was filled with Our Lady’s Bedstraw (Galium verum). Some few drops of the Virgin’s milk fell upon a Thistle, which from that time has had its leaves spotted with white, and is known as Our Lady’s Thistle (Carduus Marianus). In Germany the Polypodium vulgare, which grows in clefts of rocks, is believed to have sprung from the milk of the Virgin (in ancient times from Freyja’s milk). The Pulmonaria is also known as Unser Frauen Milch (Our Lady’s Milk).

When, after the birth of Jesus, His parents fled into Egypt, traditions record that in order that the Virgin might conceal herself and the infant Saviour from the assassins sent out by Herod, various trees opened, or stretched their branches and enlarged their leaves. As the Juniper is dedicated to the Virgin, the Italians consider that it was a tree of that species which thus saved the mother and child, and the Juniper is supposed to possess the power of driving away evil spirits and of destroying magical spells. The Palm, the Willow, and the Rosemary have severally been named as having afforded their shelter to the fugitives. On the other hand, the Lupine, according to a tradition still current among the Bolognese, received the maledictions of the Virgin Mary because, during the flight, certain plants of this species, by the noise they made, drew the attention of the soldiers of Herod to the spot where the harassed travellers had halted.

During the flight into Egypt a legend relates that certain precious bushes sprang up by the fountain where the Virgin washed the swaddling clothes of her Divine babe. These bushes were produced by the drops of water which fell from the clothes, and from which germinated a number of little plants, each yielding precious balm. Wherever the Holy Family rested in their flight sprang up the Rosa Hierosolymitana—the Rosa MariÆ, or Rose of the Virgin. Near the city of On there was shown for many centuries the sacred Fig-tree under which the Holy Family rested. They also, according to Bavarian tradition, rested under a Hazel.

Plants of the Virgin Mary.

In Tuscany there grows on walls a rootless little pellitory (Parietaria), with tiny pale-pink flowers and small leaves. They gather it on the morning of the Feast of the Ascension, and suspend it on the walls of bed-rooms till the day of the Nativity of the Virgin (8th September), from which it derives its name—the Herb of the Madonna. It generally opens its flowers after it has been gathered, retaining sufficient sap to make it do so. This opening of a cut flower is regarded by the peasantry as a token of the special blessing of the Virgin. Should the flower not open, it is taken as an omen of the Divine displeasure. In the province of Bellune, in Italy, the Matricaria Parthenium is called the Herb of the Blessed Mary: this flower was formerly consecrated to Minerva.

In Denmark, Norway, and Iceland, they give the name of Mariengras (Herb of Mary) to different Ferns, and in those countries Mary often replaces the goddess Freyja, the Venus of the North, in the names of flowers. No doubt the monks of old delighted in bestowing upon the Virgin Mary the floral attributes of Venus, Freyja, Isis, and other goddesses of the heathen; but, nevertheless, it is not long since that a Catholic writer complained that at the Reformation “the very names of plants were changed in order to divert men’s minds from the least recollection of ancient Christian piety;” and a Protestant writer of the last century, bewailing the ruthless action of the Puritans in giving to the “Queen of Beauty” flowers named after the “Queen of Heaven,” says: “Botany, which in ancient times was full of the Blessed Virgin Mary, ... is now as full of the heathen Venus.”

Amongst the titles of honour given to the Virgin in the ‘Ballad of Commendation of Our Lady,’ in the old editions of Chaucer, we find: “Benigne braunchlet of the Pine tree.”

In England “Lady” in the names of plants generally has allusion to Our Lady, Notre Dame, the Virgin Mary. Our Lady’s Mantle (Alchemilla vulgaris) is the MÁrÍu Stakkr of Iceland, which insures repose when placed beneath the pillow. Scandix Pecten was Our Lady’s Comb, but in Puritan times was changed into Venus’ Comb. The Cardamine pratensis is Our Lady’s Smock; Neottia spiralis, Our Lady’s Tresses; Armeria vulgaris, Our Lady’s Cushion; Anthyllis vulneraria, Our Lady’s Fingers; Campanula hybrida, Our Lady’s Looking-glass; Cypripedium Calceolus, Our Lady’s Slipper; the Cowslip, Our Lady’s Bunch of Keys; Black Briony, Our Lady’s Seal (a name which has been transferred from Solomon’s Seal, of which the ‘Grete Herbal’ states, “It is al one herbe, Solomon’s Seale and Our Lady’s Seale”). Quaking Grass, Briza media, is Our Lady’s Hair; Maidenhair Fern, the Virgin’s Hair; Mary-golds (Calendula officinalis) and Mary-buds (Caltha palustris) are both named after the Virgin Mary. The Campanula and the Digitalis are in France the Gloves of Mary; the Nardus Celtica is by the Germans called Marienblumen; the White-flowered Wormwood is Unser Frauen Rauch (Smoke of Our Lady); Mentha spicata is in French, Menthe de Notre Dame—in German, Unser Frauen MÜntz; the Costus hortensis, the Eupatorium, the Matricaria, the Gallitrichum sativum, the Tanacetum, the Persicaria, and a Parietaria are all, according to Bauhin, dedicated to the Virgin Mary. The name of Our Lady’s Tears, or Larmes de Sainte Marie, has been given to the Lily of the Valley, as well as to the Lithospermon of Dioscorides, the Satyrium maculatum, and the Satyrium basilicum majus. The Narcissus Italicus is the Lily of Mary. The Toad Flax is in France Lin de Notre Dame, in Germany, Unser Frauen Flachs. The Dead-Nettle is Main de Sainte Marie. Besides the Alchemilla, the Leontopodium, the Drosera, and the Sanicula major are called on the Continent Our Lady’s Mantle. Woodroof, Thyme, Groundsel, and St. John’s Wort form the bed of Mary.

In Piedmont they give the name of the Herb of the Blessed Mary to a certain plant that the birds are reputed to carry to their young ones which have been stolen and imprisoned in cages, in order that it shall cause their death and thus deliver them from their slavery.

The Snowdrop is the Fair Maid of February, as being sacred to the Purification of the Virgin (February 2nd), when her image was removed from the altar and Snowdrops strewed in its place.

To the Madonna, in her capacity of Queen of Heaven, were dedicated the Almond, the White Iris, the White Lily, and the Narcissus, all appropriate to the Annunciation (March 25th). The Lily and White and Red Roses were assigned to the Visitation of Our Lady (July 2nd): these flowers are typical of the love and purity of the Virgin Mother. To the Feast of the Assumption (August 15th) is assigned the Virgin’s Bower (Clematis Flammula); to the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin (September 8th) the Amellus (Aster Amellus); and to the Conception (December 8th) the Arbor VitÆ.

St. Dominick instituted the “Devotion of the Rosary” of the Virgin Mary—a series of prayers, to mark the repetition of which a chaplet of beads is employed, which consists of fifteen large and one hundred and fifty small beads; the former representing the number of Pater Nosters, the latter the number of Ave Marias. As these beads were formerly made of Rose-leaves tightly pressed into round moulds, where real Roses were not strung together, this chaplet was called a Rosary, and was blessed by the Pope or some other holy person before being so used.

Valeriana sativa is in France called Herbe de Marie Magdaleine, in Germany Marien Magdalenen Kraut; the Pomegranate is the Pommier de Marie Magdaleine and Marien Magdalenen Apfel.

The Plants of Our Saviour.

We have seen that at the birth of Christ, the infant Jesus was laid on a manger containing Galium verum, at Bethlehem, a place commemorated by the Ornithogalum umbellatum, or Star of Bethlehem, the flowers of which resemble the pictures of the star that indicated the birth of Jesus. Whilst lying in the manger, a spray of the rose-coloured Sainfoin, says a French legend, was found among the dried grass and herbs which served for His bed. Suddenly the Sainfoin began to expand its delicate blossoms, and to the astonishment of Mary, formed a wreath around the head of the holy babe. In commemoration of the infant Saviour having laid on a manger, it is customary, in some parts of Italy, to deck mangers at Christmas time with Moss, Sow-Thistle, Cypress, and prickly Holly: boughs of Juniper are also used for Christmas decorations, because tradition affirms that the Virgin and Child found safety amongst its branches when pursued by Herod’s mercenaries. The Juniper is also believed to have furnished the wood of the Cross on which Jesus was crucified.

At Christmas, according to an ancient pious tradition, all the plants rejoice. In commemoration of the birth of our Saviour, in countries nearer His birthplace than England, the Apple, Cherry, Carnation, Balm, Rose of Jericho, and Rose of Mariastem (in Alsatia), burst forth into blossom at Christmas, whilst in our own land the day is celebrated by the blossoming of the Glastonbury Thorn, sprung from St. Joseph’s staff, and the flowering of the Christmas Rose, or Christ’s Herb, known in France as la Rose de Noel, and in Germany as Christwurzel.

On Good Friday, in remembrance of the Passion of our Lord, all the trees, says the legend, shudder and tremble. The Swedes and Scotch have a tradition that Christ was scourged with a rod of the dwarf Birch, which was once a noble tree, but has ever since remained stunted and lowly. It is called LÁng Fredags ris, or Good Friday rod. There is another legend extant, which states that the rod with which Christ was scourged was cut from a Willow, and that the trees of its species have drooped their branches to the earth in grief and shame from that time, and have, consequently, borne the name of Weeping Willows.

The Crown of Thorns.

Sir J. Maundevile, who visited the Holy Land in the fourteenth century, has recorded that he had many times seen the identical crown of Thorns worn by Jesus Christ, one half of which was at Constantinople and the other half at Paris, where it was religiously preserved in a vessel of crystal in the King’s Chapel. This crown Maundevile says was of “Jonkes of the see, that is to sey, Rushes of the see, that prykken als scharpely as Thornes;” he further adds that he had been presented with one of the precious thorns, which had fallen off into the vessel, and that it resembled a White Thorn. The old traveller gives the following circumstantial account of our Lord’s trial and condemnation, from which it would appear that Jesus was first crowned with White Thorn, then with Eglantine, and finally with Rushes of the sea. He writes:—“In that nyghte that He was taken, He was ylad into a gardyn; and there He was first examyned righte scharply; and there the Jewes scorned Him, and maden Him a croune of the braunches of Albespyne, that is White Thorn, that grew in the same gardyn, and setten it on His heved, so faste and so sore, that the blood ran doun be many places of His visage, and of His necke, and of His schuldres. And therefore hathe the White Thorn many vertues; for he that berethe a braunche on him thereoffe, no thondre, ne no maner of tempest may dere him; ne in the hows that it is inne may non evylle gost entre ne come unto the place that it is inne. And in that same gardyn Seynt Petre denyed oure Lord thryes. Aftreward was oure Lord lad forthe before the bischoppes and the maystres of the lawe, in to another gardyn of Anne; and there also He was examyned, repreved, and scorned, and crouned eft with a White Thorn, that men clepethe Barbarynes, that grew in that gardyn; and that hathe also manye vertues. And afterward He was lad into a gardyn of Cayphas, and there He was crouned with Eglentier. And aftre He was lad in to the chambre of Pylate, and there He was examynd and crouned. And the Jewes setten Hym in a chayere and cladde Hym in a mantelle; and there made thei the croune of Jonkes of the see; and there thei kneled to Hym, and skorned Hym, seyenge: ‘Heyl, King of the Jewes!’”

The illustration represents the Crown of Thorns, worn by our Saviour, his coat without seams, called tunica inconsutilis; the sponge; the reed by means of which the Jews gave our Lord vinegar and gall; and one of the nails wherewith He was fastened to the Cross. All these relics Maundevile tells us he saw at Constantinople.

Of what particular plant was composed the crown of Thorns which the Roman soldiers plaited and placed on the Saviour’s head, has long been a matter of dispute. Gerarde says it was the Paliurus aculeatus, a sharp-spined shrub, which he calls Christ’s Thorn; and the old herbalist quotes Bellonius, who had travelled in the Holy Land, and who stated that this shrubby Thorn was common in Judea, and that it was “The Thorne wherewith they crowned our Saviour Christ.” The melancholy distinction has, however, been variously conferred on the Buckthorns, Rhamnus Spina Christi and R. Paliurus; the Boxthorn, the Barberry, the Bramble, the Rose-briar, the Wild Hyssop, the Acanthus, or Brank-ursine, the Spartium villosum, the Holly (called in Germany, Christdorn), the Acacia, or Nabkha of the Arabians, a thorny plant, very suitable for the purpose, since its flexible twigs could be twisted into a chaplet, and its small but pointed thorns would cause terrible wounds; and, in France, the Hawthorn—the Épine noble. The West Indian negroes state that Christ’s crown was composed of a branch of the Cashew-tree, and that in consequence one of the golden petals of its blossom became black and blood-stained.

The Reed Mace (Typha latifolia) is generally represented as the reed placed, in mockery, by the soldiers in the Saviour’s right hand.

The Wood of the Cross.

According to the legend connected with the Tree of Adam, the wood of the Cross on which our Lord was crucified was Cedar—a beam hewn from a tree which incorporated in itself the essence of the Cedar, the Cypress, and the Olive (the vegetable emblems of the Holy Trinity). Curzon, in his ‘Monasteries of the Levant,’ gives a tradition that the Cedar was cut down by Solomon, and buried on the spot afterwards called the Pool of Bethesda; that about the time of the Passion of our Blessed Lord the wood floated, and was used by the Jews for the upright posts of the Cross. Another legend makes the Cross of four kinds of wood representing the four quarters of the globe, or all mankind: it is not, however, agreed what those four kinds of wood were, or their respective places in the Cross. Some say they were the Palm, the Cedar, the Olive, and the Cypress; hence the line—

“Ligna crucis Palma, Cedrus, Cupressus, Oliva.”

In place of the Palm or the Olive, some claim the mournful honour for the Pine and the Box; whilst there are others who aver it was made entirely of Oak. Another account states the wood to have been the Aspen, and since that fatal day its leaves have never ceased trembling with horror.

In some parts of England it is believed that the Elder was the unfortunate tree; and woodmen will look carefully into the faggots before using them for fuel, in case any of this wood should be bound up in them. The gipsies entertain the notion that the Cross was made of Ash; the Welsh that the Mountain Ash furnished the wood. In the West of England there is a curious tradition that the Cross was made of Mistletoe, which, until the time of our Saviour’s death, had been a goodly forest tree, but was condemned henceforth to become a mere parasite.

Sir John Maundevile asserts that the Cross was made of Palm, Cedar, Cypress, and Olive, and he gives the following curious account of its manufacture:—“For that pece that wente upright fro the erthe to the heved was of Cypresse; and the pece that wente overthwart to the wiche his honds weren nayled was of Palme; and the stock that stode within the erthe, in the whiche was made the morteys, was of Cedre; and the table aboven his heved, that was a fote and an half long, on the whiche the title was written, in Ebreu, Grece, and Latyn, that was of Olyve. And the Jewes maden the Cros of theise 4 manere of trees: for thei trowed that oure Lord Jesu Crist scholde han honged on the Cros als longe as the Cros myghten laste. And therfore made thei the foot of the Cros of Cedre: for Cedre may not in erthe ne in watre rote. And therfore thei wolde that it scholde have lasted longe. For thei trowed that the body of Crist scholde have stonken; therfore thei made that pece that went from the erthe upward, of Cypres: for it is welle smellynge, so that the smelle of His body scholde not greve men that wenten forby. And the overthwart pece was of Palme: for in the Olde Testament it was ordyned that whan on overcomen, He scholde be crowned with Palme. And the table of the tytle thei maden of Olyve; for Olyve betokenethe pes. And the storye of Noe wytnessethe whan that the culver broughte the braunche of Olyve, that betokend pes made betwene God and man. And so trowed the Jewes for to have pes whan Crist was ded: for thei seyd that He made discord and strif amonges hem.”

Plants of the Crucifixion.

In Brittany the Vervain is known as the Herb of the Cross. John White, writing in 1624, says of it—

In the Flax-fields of Flanders, there grows a plant called the Roodselken, the red spots on the leaves of which betoken the blood which fell on it from the Cross, and which neither rain nor snow has since been able to wash off. In Cheshire a similar legend is attached to the Orchis maculata, which is there called Gethsemane.

In Palestine there exists a notion that the red Anemone grew at the foot of the Cross, and hence the flower bears the name of the “Blood-drops of Christ.” The Wood Sorrel is introduced in their paintings of the Crucifixion by the early Italian painters, perhaps as symbolizing the Trinity with its triple leaf.

Whilst wearily bearing His Cross on the way to Calvary, our Lord passed by the door of St. Veronica, who, with womanly compassion, wiped with her kerchief the drops of agony from His brow. The Redeemer’s features remained miraculously impressed on the linen, and from that time the flowers of the wayside Speedwell have ever borne a representation of the precious relic. In Brittany it is said that whilst Christ was bearing His Cross a little robin took from His mocking crown one of the thorns, steeped in His blood, which dyed the robin’s breast; henceforth the robin has always been the friend of man.

The early Spanish settlers of South America saw in the Flor de las cinco llagas, the Flower of the Five Wounds, or Passion Flower, a marvellous floral emblem of the mysteries of Christ’s Passion, and the Jesuits eagerly adopted it as likely to prove useful in winning souls to their faith.

An old legend, probably of monkish origin, recounts the emotions of plants on the death of the Saviour of mankind.

The Pine of Damascus said:—As a sign of mourning, from this day my foliage will remain sombre, and I will dwell in solitary places.

The Willow of Babylon.—My branches shall henceforth incline towards the waters of the Euphrates, and there shed the tears of the East.

The Vine of Sorrento.—My grapes shall be black, and the wine that shall flow from my side shall be called Lacryma Christi.

The Cypress of Carmel.—I will be the guest of the tombs, and the testimony of grief. The Yew.—I will be the guardian of graveyards. No bee shall pillage with impunity my poisoned flowers. No bird shall rest on my branches; for my exhalations shall give forth death.

The Iris of Susa.—Henceforth I will wear perpetual mourning, in covering with a violet veil my golden chalice.

The Day Lily.—I will shut every evening my sweet-smelling corolla, and will only re-open it in the morning with the tears of the night.

In the midst of these lamentations of the flowers the Poplar alone held himself upright, cold, and arrogant as a free-thinker. As a punishment for this pride, from that day forth, at the least breath of wind it trembles in all its limbs. Revolutionists have, therefore, made it the Tree of Liberty.

The Tree of Judas Iscariot.

In connection with the Crucifixion of our Lord many trees have had the ill-luck of bearing the name of the traitor Judas—the disciple who, after he had sold his Master, in sheer remorse and despair went and hanged himself on a tree.

The Fig, the Tamarisk, the Wild Carob, the Aspen, the Elder, and the Dog Rose have each in their turn been mentioned as the tree on which the suicide was committed. As regards the Fig, popular tradition affirms that the tree, after Judas had hung himself on it, never again bore fruit; that the Fig was the identical Fig-tree cursed by our Lord; and that all the wild Fig-trees sprang from this accursed tree. According to a Sicilian tradition, however, Judas did not hang himself on a Fig but on a Tamarisk-tree called Vruca (Tamarix Africana): this Vruca is now only a shrub, although formerly it was a noble tree; at the time of Judas’ suicide it was cursed by God, and thenceforth became a shrub, ill-looking, misshapen, and useless. In England, according to Gerarde, the wild Carob is the Judas-tree (Cercis Siliquastrum): this Arbor JudÆ was in olden times known as the wild or foolish Cod. By many, however, the Elder has been supposed to be the fatal tree: thus we read in Piers Plowman’s ‘Vision’:—

Sir John Maundevile, from whose work the foregoing illustration has been copied, corroborates this view; for he tells us that in his day there stood in the vicinity of Mount Sion “the tree of Eldre, that Judas henge him self upon, for despeyr.”

A Russian proverb runs:—“There is an accursed tree which trembles without even a breath of wind,” in allusion to the Aspen (Populus tremula); and in the Ukraine they say that the leaves of this tree have quivered and shaken since the day that Judas hung himself on it.

The Plants of St. John.

Popular tradition associates St. John the Baptist with numerous marvels of the plant world. St. John was supposed to have been born at midnight; and on the eve of his anniversary, precisely at twelve o’clock, the Fern blooms and seeds, and this wondrous seed, gathered at that moment, renders the possessor invisible: thus, in Shakspeare’s Henry IV., Gadshill says: “We have the receipt of Fern-seed, we walk invisible.”

The Fairies, commanded by their queen, and the demons, commanded by Satan, engage in fierce combats at this mysterious time, for the possession of the invisible seed.

In Russia, on St. John’s Eve, they seek the flower of the Paporot (Aspidium Filix mas), which flowers only at the precise moment of midnight, and will enable the lucky gatherer, who has watched it flower, to realise all his desires, to discover hidden treasures, and to recover cattle stolen or strayed. In the Ukraine it is thought that the gatherer of the Fern-flower will be endowed with supreme wisdom.

The Russian peasants also gather, on the night of the Vigil of St. John, the Tirlic, or Gentiana Amarella, a plant much sought after by witches, and only to be gathered by those who have been fortunate enough first to have found the Plakun (Lythrum Salicaria), which must be gathered on the morning of St. John, without using a knife or other instrument in uprooting it. This herb the Russians hold to be very potent against witches, bad spirits, and the evil eye. A cross cut from the root of the Plakun, and worn on the person, causes the wearer to be feared as much as fire. Another herb which should be gathered on St. John’s Eve is the Hieracium Pilosella, called in Germany Johannisblut (blood of St. John): it brings good-luck, but must be uprooted with a gold coin.

In many countries, before the break of day on St. John’s morning, the dew which has fallen on vegetation is gathered with great care. This dew is justly renowned, for it purifies all the noxious plants and imparts to certain others a fabulous power. By some it is treasured because it is believed to preserve the eyes from all harm during the succeeding year. In Venetia the dew is reputed to renew the roots of the hair on the baldest of heads. It is collected in a small phial, and a herb called Basilica is placed in it. In Normandy and the Pyrenees it is used as a wash to purify the skin; in Brittany it is thought that, thus used, it will drive away fever; and in Italy, Roumania, Sweden, and Iceland it is believed to soften and beautify the complexion. In Egypt the nucta or miraculous drop falls before sunrise on St. John’s Day, and is supposed to have the effect of stopping the plague. In Sicily they gather the Hypericum perforatum, or Herb of St. John, and put it in oil, which is by this means transformed into a balm infallible for the cure of wounds.

In Spain garlands of flowers are plucked in the early morn of St. John’s Day, before the dew has been dried by the sun, and a favourite wether is decked with them, the village lasses singing—

The populace of Madrid were long accustomed, on St. John’s Eve, to wander about the fields in search of Vervain, from a superstitious notion that this plant possesses preternatural powers when gathered at twelve o’clock on St. John’s Eve.

In some parts of Russia the country people heat their baths on the Eve of St. John and place in them the herb Kunalnitza (Ranunculus); in other parts they place herbs, gathered on the same anniversary, upon the roofs of houses and stables, as a safeguard against evil spirits. The French peasantry rub the udders of their cows with similar herbs, to ensure plenty of milk, and place them over the doorways of cattle sheds and stables.

On the Eve of St. John, Lilies, Orpine, Fennel, and every variety of Hypericum are hung over doors and windows. Garlands of Vervain and Flax are also suspended inside houses; but the true St. John’s garland is composed of seven elements, namely white Lilies, green Birch, Fennel, Hypericum, Wormwood, and the legs of game birds: these are believed to have immense power against evil spirits. After daybreak on St. John’s Day it is dangerous to pluck herbs; the gatherer running the risk of being afflicted with cancer.

According to Bauhin, the following plants are consecrated to St. John:—First and specially the Hypericum, or perforated St. John’s Wort, the fuga dÆmonum, or devil’s flight, so named from the virtue ascribed to it of frightening away evil spirits, and acting as a charm against witchcraft, enchantment, storms, and thunder. It is also called Tutsan, or All-heal, from its virtues in curing all kinds of wounds; and Sanguis hominis, because of the blood-red juice of its flowers.

The leaves of the common St. John’s Wort are marked with blood-like spots, which alway appear on the 29th of August, the day on which the Baptist was beheaded. The “Flower of St. John” is the Chrysanthemum (Corn Marigold), or, according to others, the Buphthalmus (Ox-Eye) or the Anacyclus. Grapes of St. John are Currants. The Belt or Girdle of St. John is Wormwood. The Herbs of St. John comprise also Mentha sarracenica or Costus hortensis; Gallithricum sativum or Centrum galli or Orminum sylvestre; in Picardy Abrotanum (a species of Southernwood); and, according to others, the AndrosÆmon (Tutsan), the Scrophularia, and the Crassula major. The scarlet Lychnis Coronaria is said to be lighted up on his day, and was formerly called Candelabrum ingens. A species of nut is named after the Saint. The Carob is St. John’s Mead, so called because it is supposed to have supplied him with food in the wilderness, and to be the “locusts” mentioned in the Scriptures.

The festival of St. John would seem to be a favourite time with maidens to practice divination in their love affairs. On the eve of St. John, English girls set up two plants of Orpine on a trencher, one for themselves and the other for their lover; and they estimate the lover’s fidelity by his plant living and turning to theirs, or otherwise. They also gather a Moss-rose so soon as the dew begins to fall, and, taking it indoors, carefully keep it till New Year’s Eve, when, if the blossom is faded, it is a sign of the lover’s insincerity, but if it still retains its common colour, he is true. On this night, also, Hemp-seed is sown with certain mystic ceremonies. In Brittany, on the Saint’s Vigil, young men wearing bunches of green Wheat-ears, and lasses decked with Flax-blossoms, assemble round one of the old pillar-stones and dance round it, placing their wreath upon it. If it remains fresh for some time after, the lover is to be trusted, but should it wither within a day or two, so will the love prove but transient. In Sweden, on St. John’s Eve, young maidens arrange a bouquet composed of nine different flowers, among which the Hypericum, or St. John’s Wort, or the Ox-eye Daisy, St. John’s Flower, must be conspicuous. The flowers must be gathered from nine different places, and the posy be placed beneath the maiden’s pillow. Then he who she sees in her dreams will be sure soon to arrive.[7]

Flowers of the Saints.

In the dark ages the Catholic monks, who cultivated with assiduity all sorts of herbs and flowers in their monastic gardens, came in time to associate them with traditions of the Church, and to look upon them as emblems of particular saints. Aware, also, of the innate love of humanity for flowers, they selected the most popular as symbols of the Church festivals, and in time every flower became connected with some saint of the Calendar, either from blowing about the time of the saint’s day, or from being connected with him in some old legend.

St. Benedict’s herbs are the Avens, the Hemlock, and the Valerian, which were assigned to him as being antidotes; a legend of the saint relating that upon his blessing a cup of poisoned wine, which a monk had presented to him to destroy him, the glass was shivered to pieces. To St. Gerard was dedicated the Ægopodium Podagraria, because it was customary to invoke the saint against the gout, for which this plant was esteemed a remedy. St. Christopher has given his name to the Baneberry (ActÆa spicata), the Osmund Fern (Osmunda regalis), the Fleabane (Pulicaria dysenterica), and, according to old herbalists, to several other plants, including Betonica officinalis, Vicia Cracca and Sepium, Gnaphalium germanicum, SpirÆa ulmaria, two species of Wolf’s Bane, &c. St. George has numerous plants named after or dedicated to him. In England his flower is the Harebell, but abroad the Peony is generally called after him. His name is also bestowed on the Lilium convallium. The Herb of St. George is the Valeriana sativa; his root, Dentaria major; his Violet, Leucoium luteum; his fruit, Cucumis agrestis. In Asia Minor the tree of St. George is the Carob. The Eryngium was dedicated to St. Francis under the name of St. Francis’s Thorn. Bunium flexuosum, is St. Anthony’s nut—a pig-nut, because he is the patron of pigs; and Senecio JacobÆa is St. James’s Wort (the saint of horses and colts)—used in veterinary practice. The Cowslip is dedicated to St. Peter, as Herb Peter of the old herbals, from some resemblance which it has to his emblem—a bunch of keys. As the patron of fishermen, Crithmum maritimum, which grows on sea-cliffs, was dedicated to this saint, and called in Italian San Pietro, in French Saint Pierre, and in English Samphire. Most of these saintly names were, however, given to the plants because their day of flowering is connected with the festival of the saint. Hence Hypericum guadrangulare is the St. Peter’s Wort of the modern floras, from its flowering on the 29th of June. The Daisy, as Herb Margaret, is popularly supposed to be dedicated to “Margaret that was so meek and mild;” probably from its blossoming about her day, the 22nd of February: in reality, however, the flower derived its name from St. Margaret of Cortona. Barbarea vulgaris, growing in the winter, is St. Barbara’s Cress, her day being the fourth of December, old style; and Centaurea solstitialis derives its Latin specific, and its popular name, St. Barnaby’s Thistle, from its flourishing on the longest day, the 11th of June, old style, which is now the 22nd. Nigella damascena, whose persistent styles spread out like the spokes of a wheel, is named Katharine’s flower, after St. Katharine, who suffered martyrdom on a wheel. The Cranesbill is called Herb Robert, in honour of St. Robert, Abbot of Molesme and founder of the Cistercian Order. The Speedwell is St. Paul’s Betony. Archangel is a name given to one umbelliferous and three labiate plants. An angel is said to have revealed the virtues of the plants in a dream. The umbelliferous plant, it has been supposed, has been named Angelica Archangelica, from its being in blossom on the 8th of May, old style, the Archangel St. Michael’s Day. Flowering on the fÊte day of such a powerful angel, the plant was supposed to be particularly useful as a preservative of men and women from evil spirits and witches, and of cattle from elfshot.

Roses are the special flowers of martyrs, and, according to a tradition, they sprang from the ashes of a saintly maiden of Bethlehem who perished at the stake. Avens (Geum urbanum) the Herba benedicta, or Blessed Herb, is a plant so blessed that no venomous beast will approach within scent of it; and, according to the author of the Ortus sanitatis, “where the root is in a house, the devil can do nothing, and flies from it, wherefore it is blessed above all other herbs.” The common Snowdrops are called Fair Maids of February. This name also, like the Saints’ names, arises from an ecclesiastical coincidence: their white flowers blossom about the second of February, when maidens, dressed in white, walked in procession at the Feast of the Purification.

The name of Canterbury Bells was given to the Campanula, in honour of St. Thomas of England, and in allusion probably to the horse-bells of the pilgrims to his shrine. Saxifraga umbrosa is both St. Patrick’s cabbage and St. Anne’s needlework; Polygonum Persicaria is the Virgin’s Pinch; Polytrichum commune, St. Winifred’s Hair; Myrrhis odorata, Sweet Cicely; Origanum vulgare, Sweet Margery; Oscinium Basilicum, Sweet Basil. Angelica sylvestris, the Root of the Holy Ghost; Hedge Hyssop, Cranesbill, and St. John’s Wort are all surnamed Grace of God; the Pansy, having three colours on one flower, is called Herb Trinity; the four-leaved Clover is an emblem of the Cross, and all cruciform flowers are deemed of good omen, having been marked with the sign of the Cross. The Hemp Agrimony is the Holy Rope, after the rope with which Christ was bound; and the Hollyhock is the Holy Hock (an old word for Mallow).

The feeling which inspired this identification of flowers and herbs with holy personages and festivals is gracefully expressed by a Franciscan in the following passage:—“Mindful of the Festivals which our Church prescribes, I have sought to make these objects of floral nature the timepieces of my religious calendar, and the mementos of the hastening period of my mortality. Thus I can light the taper to our Virgin Mother on the blowing of the white Snowdrop, which opens its flower at the time of Candlemas; the Lady’s Smock and the Daffodil remind me of the Annunciation; the blue Harebell, of the Festival of St. George; the Ranunculus, of the Invention of the Cross; the Scarlet Lychnis, of St. John the Baptist’s day; the white Lily, of the Visitation of our Lady; and the Virgin’s Bower, of the Assumption; and Michaelmas, Martinmas, Holy Rood, and Christmas have all their appropriate decorations.” In later times we find the Church’s Calendar of English flowers embodied in the following lines:—

The Roman Catholics have compiled a complete list of flowers, one for every day in the year, in which each flower has been dedicated to a particular saint, usually for no better reason than because it bloomed about the date of the saint’s feast day. This Saints’ Floral Directory is to be found in extenso in Hone’s ‘Every-day Book.’ In the Anglican church the principal Festivals or Red Letter Days have each their appropriate flowers assigned them, as will be seen from the following table:—

In old church calendars Christmas Eve is marked “Templa exornantur”—Churches are decked.

Herrick, in the time of Charles I., thus combines a number of these old customs connected with the decoration of churches—

Flowers of the Church’s Festivals.

In the services of the Church every season has its appropriate floral symbol. In olden times on Feast days places of worship were significantly strewed with bitter herbs. On the Feast of Dedication (the first Sunday in October) the Church was decked with boughs and strewn with sweet Rushes; for this purpose Juncus aromaticus (now known as Acorus Calamus) was used.

It was customary to strew Rushes on the Church floor on all high days. Newton, in his ‘Herbal to the Bible’ (1587), speaks of “Sedge and Rushes, with which many in the country do use in Summer time to strewe their parlors and Churches, as well for coolness and for pleasant smell.” Cardinal Wolsey in the pride of his pomp had the strewings of his great hall at Hampton Court renewed every day. Till lately the floor of Norwich Cathedral was strewn with Acorus Calamus on festal days, and when the Acorus was scarce, the leaves of the yellow Iris were used. At the church of St. Mary Redcliffe, Bristol, Rushes are strewn every Whitsuntide. The parish of Middleton-Cheney, Northamptonshire, has a benefaction to provide hay for strewing the Church in summer, the rector providing straw in the winter. In Prussia Holcus odoratus is considered Holy Grass, and is used for strewing purposes. The Rush-bearings which are still held in Westmoreland, and were until quite recently general in Cheshire, would appear to be a relic of the custom of the Dedication Feast. At these Rush-bearings young men and women carry garlands in procession through the village to the Church, which they enter and decorate with their floral tributes. Besides giving the Church a fresh strewing every feast day, it was in olden times customary to deck it with boughs and flowers; and as the flowers used at festivals were originally selected because they happened to be in bloom then, so in time they came to be associated therewith.

On Palm Sunday, it was customary for the congregation to carry Palm branches in procession, and deposit them on the altar of the Church to be blessed, after which they were again distributed to the people. Various substitutes for the Eastern Palm were used in England, but the most popular was the Sallow, because its lithe green wands, full of sap, and covered with golden catkins, were at that season of the year the things most full of life and blossom. Yew branches were also employed for Palm, and some Churches were decked with boughs of Box.

White Broom and white flowers of all descriptions are applicable to the great festival of Easter, as well as purple Pasque flowers and golden Daffodils. The peasants of Bavaria weave garlands of the fragrant Coltsfoot (Nardosmia fragrans) on Easter Day, and cast them into the fire. In Rogation Week processions perambulated the parishes with the Holy Cross and Litanies, to mark the boundaries and to invoke the blessing of God on the crops: on this occasion maidens made themselves garlands and nosegays of the Rogation-flower, Polygala vulgaris, called also the Cross-, Gang-, and Procession-flower.

On Ascension Day it is customary in Switzerland to suspend wreaths of Edelweiss over porches and windows,—this flower of the Alps being, like the Amaranth, considered an emblem of immortality, and peculiarly appropriate to the festival.

May Day, in olden times, was the anniversary of all others which was associated with floral ceremonies. In the early morn all ranks of people went out a-Maying, returning laden with Hawthorn blossoms and May flowers, to decorate churches and houses. Shakspeare notices how, in his day, every one was astir betimes:—

It being also the festival of SS. Philip and James, the feast partook somewhat of a religious character. The people not only turned the streets into leafy avenues, and their door-ways into green arbours, and set up a May-pole decked with ribands and garlands, and an arbour besides for Maid Marian to sit in, to witness the sports, but the floral decorations extended likewise into the Church. We learn from Aubrey that the young maids of every parish carried about garlands of flowers, which they afterwards hung up in their Churches; and Spenser sings how, at sunrise—

The beautiful milk-white Hawthorn blossom is essentially the flower of the season, but in some parts of England the Lily of the Valley is considered as “The Lily of the May.” In Cornwall and Devon Lilac is esteemed the May-flower, and special virtues are attached to sprays of Ivy plucked at day-break with the dew on them. In Germany the Kingcup, Lily of the Valley, and Hepatica are severally called Mai-blume.

Whitsuntide flowers in England are Lilies of the Valley and Guelder Roses, but according to Chaucer (‘Romaunt of the Rose’) Love bids his pupil—

The Germans call Broom Pentecost-bloom, and the Peony the Pentecost Rose. The Italians call Whitsunday Pasqua Rosata, Roses being then in flower.

To Trinity Sunday belong the Herb-Trinity or Pansy and the Trefoil. On St. Barnabas Day, as on St. Paul’s Day, the churches were decked with Box, Woodruff, Lavender, and Roses, and the officiating Priests wore garlands of Roses on their heads.

On Royal Oak Day (May 29th), in celebration of the restoration of King Charles II., and to commemorate his concealment in an aged Oak at Boscobel, gilded Oak-leaves and Apples are worn, and Oak-branches are hung over doorways and windows. From this incident in the life of Charles II., the Oak derives its title of Royal.

On Corpus Christi Day it was formerly the custom in unreformed England to strew the streets through which the procession passed with flowers, and to decorate the church with Rose and other garlands. In North Wales a relic of these ceremonies lingered till lately in the practice of strewing herbs and flowers at the doors of houses on the Corpus Christi Eve. In Roman Catholic countries flowers are strewed along the streets in this festival, and the route of the procession at Rome is covered with Bay and other fragrant leaves.

On the Vigil of St. John the Baptist, Stowe tells us that in his time every man’s door was shadowed with green Birch, long Fennel, St. John’s Wort, Orpine, white Lilies, and such like, garnished upon with garlands of beautiful flowers, and also lamps of glass, with oil burning in them all night. Birch is the special tree, as the yellow St. John’s Wort (Hypericum) is the special flower, of St. John. In the life of Bishop Horne we read that in the Court of Magdalen, Oxford, a sermon used to be preached on this day from the stone pulpit in the corner, and “the quadrangle was furnished round with a large fence of green boughs, that the meeting might more nearly resemble that of John Baptist in the wilderness.”

On All Saints’ or All Hallows’ Day, Roman Catholics are wont to visit the graves of departed relatives or friends, and place on them wreaths of Ivy, Moss, and red Berries. On the Eve of this day, Hallowe’en (October 31st), many superstitious customs are still practised. In the North young people dive for Apples, and for divining purposes fling Nuts into the fire; hence the vulgar name of Nut-crack Night. In Scotland young women determine the figure and size of their future husbands by paying a visit to the Kail or Cabbage garden, and “pu’ing the Kailstock” blindfold. They also on this night throw Hazel Nuts in the fire, named for two lovers, judging according as they burn quickly together, or start apart, the course of their love.

At Christmas tide Holly (the “holy tree”), Rosemary, Laurel, Bay, Arbor VitÆ, and Ivy are hung up in churches, and are suitable also for the decoration of houses, with the important addition of Mistletoe (which, on account of its Druidic connection, is interdicted in places of worship). Ivy should only be placed in outer passages or doorways. At Christmas, which St. Gregory termed the “festival of all festivals,” the evergreens with which the churches are ornamented are a fitting emblem of that time when, as God says by the prophet Isaiah, “I will plant in the wilderness the Cedar, the Shittah tree and the Myrtle, and the Oil tree; I will set in the desert the Fir tree and the Pine, and the Box tree together (xli., 19). The glory of Lebanon shall come unto thee, the Fir tree, the Pine tree, and the Box together, to beautify the place of my sanctuary; and I will make the place of my feet glorious” (lx., 13).

Gospel Oaks and Memorial Trees.

There exist in different parts of England several ancient trees, notably Oaks, which are traditionally said to have been called Gospel trees in consequence of its having been the practice in times long past to read under a tree which grew upon a boundary-line a portion of the Gospel on the annual perambulation of the bounds of the parish on Ascension Day. In Herrick’s poem of the ‘Hesperides’ occur these lines in allusion to this practice:—

Many of these old trees were doubtless Druidical, and under their “leafy tabernacles” the pioneers of Christianity had probably preached and expounded the Scriptures to a pagan race. The heathen practice of worshipping the gods in woods and trees continued for many centuries, till the introduction of Christianity; and the first missionaries sought to adopt every means to elevate the Christian worship to higher authority than that of paganism by acting on the senses of the heathen. St. Augustine, Evelyn tells us, held a kind of council under an Oak in the West of England, concerning the right celebration of Easter and the state of the Anglican church; “where also it is reported he did a great miracle.” On Lord Bolton’s estate in the New Forest stands a noble group of twelve Oaks known as the Twelve Apostles: there is another group of Oaks extant known as the Four Evangelists. Beneath the venerable Yews at Fountain Abbey, Yorkshire, the founders of the Abbey held their council in 1132.

“Cross Oaks” were so called from their having been planted at the junction of cross roads, and these trees were formerly resorted to by aguish patients, for the purpose of transferring to them their malady.

Venerable and noble trees have in all ages and in all countries been ever regarded with special reverence. From the very earliest times such trees have been consecrated to holy uses. Thus, the Gomerites, or descendants of Noah, were, if tradition be true, accustomed to offer prayers and oblations beneath trees; and, following the example of his ancestors, the Patriarch Abraham pitched his tents beneath the Terebinth Oaks of Mamre, erected an altar to the Lord, and performed there sacred and priestly rites. Beneath an Oak, too, the Patriarch entertained the Deity Himself. This tree of Abraham remained till the reign of Constantine the Great, who founded a venerable chapel under it, and there Christians, Jews, and Arabs held solemn anniversary meetings, believing that from the days of Noah the spot shaded by the tree had been a consecrated place.

Dean Stanley tells us that “on the heights of Ephraim, on the central thoroughfare of Palestine, near the Sanctuary of Bethel, stood two famous trees, both in after times called by the same name. One was the Oak-tree or Terebinth of Deborah, under which was buried, with many tears, the nurse of Jacob (Gen. xxxv. 8). The other was a solitary Palm, known in after times as the Palm-tree of Deborah. Under this Palm, as Saul afterwards under the Pomegranate-tree of Migron, as St. Louis under the Oak-tree of Vincennes, dwelt that mother in Israel, Deborah, the wife of Lapidoth, to whom the sons of Israel came to receive her wise answers.”

Since the time when Solomon cut the Cedars of Lebanon for the purpose of employing them in the erection of the Temple of the Lord, this renowned forest has been greatly shorn of its glories; but a grove of nearly four hundred trees still exists. Twelve of the most valuable of these trees bear the titles of “The Friends of Solomon,” or “The Twelve Apostles.” Every year the Maronites, Greeks, and Armenians go up to the Cedars, at the Feast of the Transfiguration, and celebrate mass on a homely stone altar erected at their feet.

In Evelyn’s time there existed, near the tomb of Cyrus, an extraordinary Cypress, which was said to exude drops of blood every Friday. This tree, according to Pietro della Valla, was adorned with many lamps, and fitted for an oratory, and was for ages resorted to by pious pilgrims.

Thevenot and other Eastern travellers mention a tree which for centuries had been regarded with peculiar reverence. “At Matharee,” says Thevenot, “is a large garden surrounded by walls, in which are various trees, and among others, a large Sycamore, or Pharaoh’s Fig, very old, which bears fruit every year. They say that the Virgin passing that way with her son Jesus, and being pursued by a number of people, the Fig-tree opened to receive her; she entered, and it closed her in, until the people had passed by, when it re-opened, and that it remained open ever after to the year 1656, when the part of the trunk that had separated itself was broken away.”

Near Kennety Church, in the King’s County, Ireland, is an Ash, the trunk of which is nearly 22 feet round, and 17 feet high, before the branches break out, which are of enormous bulk. When a funeral of the lower class passes by, they lay the body down a few minutes, say a prayer, and then throw a stone to increase the heap which has been accumulating round the roots.

The Breton nobles were long accustomed to offer up a prayer beneath the branches of a venerable Yew which grew in the cloister of Vreton, in Brittany. The tree was regarded with much veneration, as it was said to have originally sprung from the staff of St. Martin.

In England, the Glastonbury Thorn was long the object of pious reverence. This tree was supposed to have sprung from the staff of Joseph of Arimathea, to whom the original conversion of this country is attributed in monkish legends. The story runs that when Joseph of Arimathea came to convert the heathen nations he selected Glastonbury as the site for the first Christian Church, and whilst preaching there on Christmas-day, he struck his staff into the ground, which immediately burst into bud and bloom; eventually it grew into a Thorn-bush, which regularly blossomed every Christmas-day, and became known throughout Christendom as the Glastonbury Thorn.

Like the Thorn of Glastonbury, an Oak, in the New Forest, called the Cadenham Oak, produced its buds always on Christmas Day; and was, consequently, regarded by the country people as a tree of peculiar sanctity. Another miraculous tree is referred to in Collinson’s ‘History of Somerset.’ The author, speaking of the Glastonbury Thorn, says that there grew also in the Abbey churchyard, on the north side of St. Joseph’s Chapel, a miraculous Walnut-tree, which never budded forth before the Feast of St. Barnabas (that is, the 11th of June), and on that very day shot forth leaves, and flourished like its usual species. It is strange to say how much this tree was sought after by the credulous; and though not an uncommon Walnut, Queen Anne, King James, and many of the nobility of the realm, even when the times of monkish superstition had ceased, gave large sums of money for small cuttings from the original.

Centuries before Milton wrote that “Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep,” our Saxon ancestors, whilst yet they inhabited the forests of Germany, believed in the existence of a diminutive race of beings—the “missing link” between men and spirits—to whom they attributed extraordinary actions, far exceeding the capabilities of human art. Moreover, we have it on the authority of the father of English poetry that long, long ago, in those wondrous times when giants and dwarfs still deigned to live in the same countries as ordinary human beings,

The old Welsh bards were accustomed to sing their belief that King Arthur was not dead, but conveyed away by the fairies into some charmed spot where he should remain awhile, and then return again to reign with undiminished power. These wondrous inhabitants of Elf-land—these Fays, Fairies, Elves, Little Folk, Pixies, Hobgoblins, Kobolds, Dwarfs, Pigmies, Gnomes, and Trolls are all more or less associated with the plant kingdom. They make their habitations in the leafy branches of trees, or dwell in the greater seclusion of their hollow trunks; they dally and gambol among opening buds and nodding blossoms; they hide among blushing Roses and fragrant shrubs; they dance amid the Buttercups, Daisies, and Meadow-Sweet of the grassy meads; and, as Shakspeare says, they “use flowers for their charactery.”

Grimm tells us that in Germany the Elves are fond of inhabiting Oak trees, the holes in the trunks of which are deemed by the people to be utilised by the Fairies as means of entry and exit. A similar belief is entertained by the Hindus, who consider holes in trees as doors by which the inhabiting spirit passes in and out. German elves are also fond of frequenting Elder-trees.

The Esthonians believe that during a thunder-storm, and in order to escape from the lightning, the timorous Elves burrow several feet beneath the roots of the trees they inhabit. As a rule these forest Elves are good-natured: if they are not offended, not only will they abstain from harming men, but they will even do them a good turn, and teach them some of the mysteries of nature, of which they possess the secret.

The Elves were in former days thought to practise works of mercy in the woods, and a certain sympathetic affinity with trees became thus propagated in the popular faith. The country-folk were careful not to offend the trees that were inhabited by Fairies, and they never sought to surprise the Elfin people in their mysterious retreats, for they dreaded the power of these invisible creatures to cause ill-luck or some unfortunate malady to fall on those against whom they had a spite. Even deaths were sometimes laid at their door.

A German legend relates that as a peasant woman one day tried to uproot the stump of an old tree in a Fir forest, she became so feeble that at last she could scarcely manage to walk. Suddenly, while endeavouring to crawl to her home, a mysterious-looking man appeared in the path before the poor woman, and upon hearing what was the matter with her, he at once remarked that she had wounded an Elf. If the Elf got well, so would she; but if the Elf should unfortunately perish, she would also assuredly die. The stump of the old Fir-tree was the abode of an Elf, and in endeavouring to uproot it, the woman had unintentionally injured the little creature. The words of the mysterious personage proved too true. The peasant languished for some time, but drooped and died on the same day as the wounded Elf. To this day, in the vast forests of Germany and Russia, instead of uprooting old Firs, the foresters, remembering the Elfish superstition, always chop them down above the roots.

In the Indian legend of SÂvitri, the youthful Satyavant, while felling a tree, perspires inordinately, is overcome with weakness, sinks exhausted, and dies. He had mortally wounded the Elf of the tree. Since the days of Æsop it has become a saying that Death has a weakness for woodmen.

In our own land, Oaks have always been deemed the favourite abodes of Elves, and wayfarers, upon approaching groves reputed to be haunted by them, used to think it judicious to turn their coats for good luck. Thus Bishop Corbet, in his Iter Boreale, writes:—

It was believed that the Fairy folk made their homes in the recesses of forests or secluded groves, whence they issued after sunset to gambol in the fields; often startling with their sudden appearance the tired herdsman trudging homeward to his cot, or the goodwife returning from her expedition to market. Thus we read of “Fairy Elves whose midnight revels by a forest side or fountain some belated peasant sees.”

In the Isle of Man the Fairies or Elves used to be seen hopping from trees and skipping from bough to bough, whilst wending their way to the Fairy midnight haunts.

In such esteem were they held by the country folk of Devon and Cornwall, that to ensure their friendship and good offices, the Fairies, or Pixies, used formerly to have a certain share of the fruit crop set apart for their special consumption.

Hans Christian Andersen tells of a certain Rose Elf who was instrumental in punishing the murderer of a beautiful young maiden to whom he was attached. The Rose, in olden times, was reputed to be under the especial protection of Elves, Fairies, and Dwarfs, whose sovereign, Laurin, carefully guarded the Rose-garden.

A curious family of the Elfin tribe were the Moss- or Wood-Folk, who dwelt in the forests of Southern Germany. Their stature was small, and their form weird and uncouth, bearing a strange resemblance to certain trees, with which they flourished and decayed. Describing a Moss-woman, the author of ‘The Fairy Family’ says:—

The Moss- or Wood-Folk also lived in some parts of Scandinavia. Thus, we are told that, in the churchyard of Store Hedding, in Zealand, there are the remains of an Oak wood which were trees by day and warriors by night.

The Black Dwarfs were a race of Scandinavian Elves, inhabiting coast-hills and caves; the favourite place of their feasts and carousings, however, was under the spreading branches of the Elder-tree, the strong perfume of its large moon-like clusters of flowers being very grateful to them. As has been before pointed out, an unexplained connection of a mysterious character has always existed between this tree and the denizens of Fairy-land.

The Still-Folk of Central Germany were another tribe of the Fairy Kingdom: they inhabited the interior of hills, in which they had their spacious halls and strong rooms filled with gold, silver, and precious stones—the entrance to which was only obtained by mortals by means of the Luck-flower, or the Key-flower (SchlÜsselblume). They held communication with the outer world, like the Trolls of Scandinavia, through certain springs or wells, which possessed great virtues: not only did they give extraordinary growth and fruitfulness to all trees and shrubs that grew near them, whose roots could drink of their waters, or whose leaves be sprinkled with the dews condensed from their vapours, but for certain human diseases they formed a sovereign remedy.

In Monmouthshire, in years gone by, there existed a good Fairy, or Procca, who was wont to appear to Welshmen in the guise of a handful of loose dried grass, rolling and gambolling before the wind.

Fairy Revels.

The English Fays and Fairies, the Pixies of Devon—

according to the old pastoral poets, were wont to bestir themselves soon after sunset—a time of indistinctness and gloomy grandeur, when the moonbeams gleam fitfully through the wind-stirred branches of their sylvan retreats, and when sighs and murmurings are indistinctly heard around, which whisper to the listener of unseen beings. But it is at midnight that the whole Fairy kingdom is alive: then it is that the faint music of the blue Harebell is heard ringing out the call to the Elfin meet:

Like the Witches, Fairies dearly love to ride to the trysting-place on an aerial steed. A straw, a blade of Grass, a Fern, a Rush, or a Cabbage-stalk, alike serve the purpose of the little people. Mounted on such simple steeds, each joyous Elf sings—

Arrived at the spot selected for the Fairy revels—mayhap, “a bank whereon the wild Thyme blows, where Oxlips and the nodding Violet grows”—the gay throng wend their way to a grassy link or neighbouring pasture, and there the merry Elves trip and pace the dewy green sward with their printless feet, causing those dark green circles that are known to mortals as “Fairy Rings.”

Old William Browne depicts a Fairy trysting-place as being in proximity to one of their sylvan haunts, and moreover gives us an insight into the proceedings of the Fays and their queen at one of their meetings. He says:—

St. John’s Eve was undoubtedly chosen for important communication between the distant Elfin groves and the settlements of men, on account of its mildness, brightness, and unequalled beauty. Has not Shakspeare told us, in his ‘Midsummer’s Night’s Dream,’ of the doings, on this night, of Oberon, Ariel, Puck, Titania, and her Fairy followers?—

Yet timorous and ill-informed folk, mistrusting the kindly disposition of Elves and Fairies, took precautions for excluding Elfin visitors from their dwellings by hanging over their doors boughs of St. John’s Wort, gathered at midnight on St. John’s Eve. A more kindly feeling, however, seems to have prevailed at Christmas time, when boughs of evergreen were everywhere hung in houses in order that the poor frost-bitten Elves of the trees might hide themselves therein, and thus pass the bleak winter in hospitable shelter.

Fairy Plants.

In Devonshire the flowers of Stitchwort are known as Pixies.

Of plants which are specially affected by the Fairies, first mention should be made of the Elf Grass (Vesleria cÆrulea), known in Germany as Elfenkraut or Elfgras. This is the Grass forming the Fairy Rings, round which, with aerial footsteps, have danced

The Cowslip, or Fairy Cup, Shakspeare tells us forms the couch of Ariel—the “dainty Ariel” who has so sweetly sung of his Fairy life—

The fine small crimson drops in the Cowslip’s chalice are said to possess the rare virtue of preserving, and even of restoring, youthful bloom and beauty; for these ruddy spots are fairy favours, and therefore have enchanted value. Shakspeare says of this flower of the Fays:—

Another of the flowers made potent use of by the Fairies of Shakspeare is the Pansy—that “little Western flower” which Oberon bade Puck procure:—

The Anemone, or Wind-flower, is a recognised Fairy blossom. The crimson marks on its petals have been painted there by fairy hands; and, in wet weather, it affords shelter to benighted Elves, who are glad to seek shelter beneath its down-turned petals. Tulips are greatly esteemed by the Fairy folk, who utilise them as cradles in which to rock the infant Elves to sleep.

The Fairy Flax (Linum catharticum) is, from its extreme delicacy, selected by the Fays as the substance to be woven for their raiment. The Pyrus Japonica is the Fairies’ Fire. Fairy-Butter (Tremella arborea and albida) is a yellowish gelatinous substance, found upon rotten wood or fallen timber, and which is popularly supposed to be made in the night, and scattered about by the Fairies. The Pezita, an exquisite scarlet Fungus cup, which grows on pieces of broken stick, and is to be found in dry ditches and hedge-sides, is the Fairies’ Bath.

To yellow flowers growing in hedgerows, the Fairies have a special dislike, and will never frequent a place where they abound; but it is notorious that they are passionately fond of most flowers. It is part of their mission to give to each maturing blossom its proper hue, to guide creepers and climbing plants, and to teach young plants to move with befitting grace.

But the Foxglove is the especial delight of the Fairy tribe: it is the Fairy plant par excellence. When it bends its tall stalks the Foxglove is making its obeisance to its tiny masters, or preparing to receive some little Elf who wishes to hide himself in the safe retreat afforded by its accommodating bells. In Ireland this flower is called Lusmore, or the Great Herb. It is there the Fairy Cap, whilst in Wales it becomes the Goblin’s Gloves.

As the Foxglove is the special flower of the Fairies, so is a four-leaved Clover their peculiar herb. It is believed only to grow in places frequented by the Elfin tribe, and to be gifted by them with magic power.

The maiden whose search has been successful for this diminutive plant becomes at once joyous and light-hearted, for she knows that she will assuredly see her true love ere the day is over. The four-leaved Clover is the only plant that will enable its wearer to see the Fairies—it is a magic talisman whereby to gain admittance to the Fairy kingdom,[8] and unless armed with this potent herb, the only other means available to mortals who wish to make the acquaintance of the Fairies is to procure a supply of a certain precious unguent prepared according to the receipt of a celebrated alchymist, which, applied to the visual orbs, is said to enable anyone with a clear conscience to behold without difficulty or danger the most potent Fairy or Spirit he may anywhere encounter. The following is the form of the preparation:—

“R.A pint of Sallet-oyle, and put it into a vial-glasse; but first wash it with Rose-water and Marygolde water; the flowers to be gathered towards the east. Wash it till the oyle come white; then put it into the glasse, ut supra: and then put thereto the budds of Holyhocke, the flowers of Marygolde, the flowers or toppers of Wild Thyme, the budds of young Hazle: and the Thyme must be gathered neare the side of a hill where Fayries used to be: and take the grasse of a Fayrie throne. Then all these put into the oyle into the glasse: and sette it to dissolve three dayes in the sunne, and then keep it for thy use; ut supra.”—[Ashmolean MSS.].

Plants of the Water Nymphs and Fays.

Certain of the Fairy community frequented the vicinity of pools, and the banks of streams and rivers. Ben Jonson tells of “Span-long Elves that dance about a pool;” and Stagnelius asks—

Of this family are the Russalkis, river nymphs of Southern Russia, who inhabit the alluvial islands studding the winding river, or dwell in detached coppices fringing the banks, or construct for themselves homes woven of flowering Reeds and green Willow-boughs.

The Swedes delight to tell of the StrÖmkarl, or boy of the stream, a mystic being who haunts brooks and rivulets, and sits on the silvery waves at moonlight, playing his harp to the Elves and Fays who dance on the flowery margin, in obedience to his summons—

The GrÆco-Latin Naiades, or Water-nymphs, were also of this family: they generally inhabited the country, and resorted to the woods or meadows near the stream over which they presided. It was in some such locality on the Asiatic coast that the ill-fated Hylas was carried off by Isis and the River-nymphs, whilst obtaining water from a fountain.

These inferior deities were held in great veneration, and received from their votaries offerings of fruit and flowers; animal sacrifices were also made to them, with libations of wine, honey, oil, and milk; and they were crowned with Sedges and flowers. A remnant of these customs was to be seen in the practice which formerly prevailed in this country of sprinkling rivers with flowers on Holy Thursday. Milton, in his ‘Comus,’ tells us that, in honour of Sabrina, the Nymph of the Severn—

A belief in the existence of good spirits who watched and guarded wells, springs and streams, was common to the whole Aryan race. On the 13th of October the Romans celebrated at the Porta Fontinalis a festival in honour of the Nymphs who presided over fountains and wells: this was termed the Fontinalia, and during the ceremonies wells and fountains were ornamented with garlands. To this day the old heathen custom of dressing and adorning wells is extant, although saints and martyrs have long since taken the place of the Naiades and Water-nymphs as patrons. In England, well-dressing at Ascension-tide is still practised, and some particulars of the ancient custom will be found in the chapter on Floral Ceremonies.

Pilgrimages are made to many holy wells and springs in the United Kingdom, for the purpose of curing certain diseases by the virtues contained in their waters, or to dress these health-restoring fountains with garlands and posies of flowers. It is not surprising to find Ben Jonson saying that round such “virtuous” wells the Fairies are fond of assembling, and dancing their rounds, lighted by the pale moonshine—

In Cornwall pilgrimages are made in May to certain wells situated close to old blasted Oaks, where the frequenters suspend rags to the branches as a preservative against sorcery and a propitiation to the Fairies, who are thought to be fond of repairing at night to the vicinity of the wells. From St. Mungo’s Well at Huntly, in Scotland, the people carry away bottles of water, as a talisman against the enmity of the Fairies, who are supposed to hold their revels at the Elfin Croft close by, and are prone to resent the intrusion of mortals.

Closely allied to the Fairy family, the Well Fays, and the Naiades, are the Sylvans of the GrÆco-Roman mythology, which everywhere depicts groves and forests as the dwelling-places and resorts of merry bands of Dryads, Nymphs, Fauns, Satyrs, and other light-hearted frequenters of the woods. Mindful of this, Horace, when extolling the joys and peacefulness of sylvan retirement, sings:—

The Dryads were young and beautiful nymphs who were regarded as semi-goddesses. Deriving their name from the Greek word drus, a tree, they were conceived to dwell in trees, groves, and forests, and, according to tradition, were wont to inflict injuries upon people who dared to injure the trees they inhabited and specially protected. Notwithstanding this, however, they frequently quitted their leafy habitations, to wander at will and mingle with the wood nymphs in their rural sports and dances. They are represented veiled and crowned with flowers. Such a sylvan deity Rinaldo saw in the Enchanted Forest, when

The Hamadryads were only females to the waist, their lower parts merging into the trunks and roots of trees. Their life and power terminated with the existence of the tree over which they presided. These sylvan deities had long flowing hair, and bore in their hands axes wherewith to protect the tree with which they were associated and on the existence of which their own life depended. The trees of the Hamadryads usually grew in some secluded spot, remote from human habitations and unknown to men, where

The rustic deities, called by the Greeks Satyrs, and by the Romans, Fauns, had the legs, feet, and ears of goats, and the rest of the body human. These Fauns, according to the traditions of the Romans, presided over vegetation, and to them the country folk gave anything they had a mind to ask—bunches of Grapes, ears of Wheat, and all sorts of fruit. The food of the Satyrs was believed, by the early Romans, to be the root of the Orchis or Satyrion; its aphrodisiacal qualities exciting them to those excesses to which they are stated to have been so strongly addicted.

A Roumanian legend[9] tells of a beauteous sylvan nymph called the Daughter of the Laurel, who is evidently akin to the Dryads and wood nymphs; and Mr. Ralston, in an article on ‘Forest and Field Myths,’[10] gives the following variation of the story:—“There was once a childless wife who used to lament, saying, ‘If only I had a child, were it but a Laurel berry!’ And heaven sent her a golden Laurel berry; but its value was not recognised, and it was thrown away. From it sprang a Laurel-tree, which gleamed with golden twigs. At it a prince, while following the chase, wondered greatly; and determining to return to it, he ordered his cook to prepare a dinner for him beneath its shade. He was obeyed. But during the temporary absence of the cook, the tree opened, and forth came a fair maiden who strewed a handful of salt over the viands, and returned into the tree, which immediately closed upon her. The prince returned and scolded the cook for over-salting the dinner. The cook declared his innocence; but in vain. The next day just the same occurred. So on the third day the prince kept watch. The tree opened, and the maiden came forth. But before she could return into the tree, the prince caught hold of her and carried her off. After a time she escaped from him, ran back to the tree, and called upon it to open. But it remained shut. So she had to return to the prince, and after a while he deserted her. It was not till after long wandering that she found him again, and became his loyal consort.” Mr. Ralston says that in Hahn’s opinion the above story is founded on the Hellenic belief in Dryads; but he himself thinks it belongs to an earlier mythological family than the Hellenic, though the Dryad and the Laurel-maiden are undoubtedly kinswomen. “Long before the Dryads and Oreads had received from the sculpturesque Greek mind their perfection of human form and face, trees were credited with woman-like inhabitants, capable of doing good and ill, and with power of their own, apart from those possessed by their supernatural tenants, of banning and blessing. Therefore was it that they were worshipped, and that recourse was had to them for the strengthening of certain rites. Similar ideas and practices still prevail in Asia: survivals of them may yet be found in Europe.”

In Moldavia there lingers the cherished tradition of Mariora Floriora, the Zina (nymph) of the mountains, the Sister of the Flowers, at whose approach the birds awoke and sung merrily, desirous of anticipating her every wish, and the wild flowers exhaled their choicest perfume, and, bowing gently in the wind, proffered every virtue contained in their blossoms. Yielding one day to the fascinations of a mortal, Mariora Floriora gave herself to him, and forgot her flowers, so that the leaves fell yellow and withered, and the flowers drooped their heads and faded. Then they complained to the Sun that the flower nymph no longer tended them, but rambled over the mountains and meadows absorbed with her mortal lover. So a ZmÉu (evil spirit) was sent, who seized her in his arms, and carried her away over the mountain. Now she is never seen; but when the moon is shining on a serene night, her plaintive murmurs are sometimes heard in the caverns of the mountain.

Sacred Groves and their Denizens.

The Roman goddess Pomona, we are told by Ovid, came of the family of Dryads, or sylvan deities; and although “the Nymph frequented not the fluttering stream, nor meads, the subject of a virgin’s dream,” yet—

As a deity, Pomona presided over gardens and all sorts of fruit-trees, and was honoured with a temple in Rome, and a regular priest, called Flamen Pomonalis, who offered sacrifices to her divinity for the preservation of fruit. In this respect Pomona differed from the other Sylvans, who were only regarded as semi-gods and goddesses. The worship of these sylvan deities, however, by the Greeks and Romans caused them to regard with reverence and respect their nemorous habitations. Hence we find that, like the Egyptians, they were fond of surrounding their temples and fanes with groves and woods, which in time came to be regarded as sacred as the temples themselves. Pliny, speaking of groves, says: “These were of old the temples of the gods; and after that simple but ancient custom, men at this day consecrate the fairest and goodliest trees to some deity or other; nor do we more adore our glittering shrines of gold and ivory than the groves in which, with profound and awful silence, we worship them.” Ancient writers often refer to “vocal forests,”—in their sombre and gloomy recesses, the frighted wayfarer imagined, as the wind soughed and rustled through the dense foliage, that the tree spirits were humming some sportive lay, or—perchance more frequently—chanting weirdly some solemn dirge. The grove which surrounded Jupiter’s Temple at Dodona was supposed to be endowed with the gift of prophecy, and oracles were frequently there delivered by the sacred Oaks.

In course of time each tree of these sacred groves was held to be tenanted, or presided over, either by a god or goddess, or by one of the sylvan semi-deities. Impious was deemed he who dared to profane the sanctity of one of these nemorous retreats, either by damaging or by felling the consecrated trees. Rapin, in his Latin poem on Gardens, says:

When threatened with the woodman’s axe, the tutelary genius of the doomed tree would intercede for its life, the very leaves would sigh and groan, the stalwart trunk tremble with horror. Ovid relates how Erisichthon, a Thessalian, who derided Ceres, and cut down the trees in her sacred groves, was, for his impiety, afflicted with perpetual hunger. Of one huge old Oak the poet says—

But the vindictive Erisichthon bade his hesitating servants fell the venerable tree, and, dissatisfied with their speed, seized an axe, and approached it, declaring that nothing should save the Oak:—

Tree Spirits.

Ovid, in his ‘Metamorphoses,’ has told us how, after Daphne had been changed into a Laurel, the nymph-tree still panted and heaved her heart; how, when Phaethon’s grief-stricken sisters were transformed into Poplars, they continued to shed tears, which were changed into amber; how Myrrha, metamorphosed into a tree, still wept, in her bitter grief, the precious drops which retain her name; how Dryope, similarly transformed, imparted her life to the branches, which glowed with a human heat; and how the tree into which the nymph Lotis had been changed, shook with sudden horror when its blossoms were plucked and blood welled from the broken stalks. In these poetic conceptions it is easy to see the embodiment of a belief very rife among the Greeks and Romans that trees and shrubs were tenanted in some mysterious manner by spirits. Thus Virgil tells us that when Æneas had travelled far in search of the abodes of the blest—

Nor was this notion confined simply to the Greeks and Romans, for among the ancients generally there existed a wide-spread belief that trees were either the haunts of disembodied spirits, or contained within their material growth the actual spirits themselves. Evelyn tells us that “the Ethnics do still repute all great trees to be divine, and the habitations of souls departed: these the Persians call Pir and ImÀm.” The Persians, however, entertaining a profound regard for trees of unusual magnitude, were of opinion that only the spirits of the pure and holy inhabited them.

In this respect they differed from the Indians, who believed that both good and evil spirits dwelt in trees. Thus we read in the story of a Brahmadaitya (a Bengal folk-tale), of a certain Banyan-tree haunted by a number of ghosts who wrung the necks of all who were rash enough to approach the tree during the night. And, in the same tale, we are told of a Vakula-tree (Mimusops Elengi) which was the haunt of a Brahmadaitya (the ghost of a Brahman who dies unmarried), who was a kindly and well-disposed spirit. In another folk-tale we are introduced to the wife of a Brahman who was attacked by a Sankchinni, or female ghost, inhabiting a tree near the Brahman’s house, and thrust by the vindictive ghost into a hole in the trunk. The Rev. Lal Behari Day explains that Sankchinnis or Sankhachurnis are female ghosts of white complexion, who usually stand in the dead of night at the foot of trees. Sometimes these tree-spirits appear to leave their usual sylvan abode and enter into human beings, in which case an exorcist is employed, who detects the presence of the spirit by lighting a piece of Turmeric root, which is an infallible test, as no ghost can put up with the smell of burnt Turmeric.

The ShÁnÁrs, aborigines of India, believe that disembodied spirits haunt the earth, dwelling in trees, and taking special delight in forests and solitary places. Against the malignant influence of these wandering spirits, protection is sought in charms of various kinds; the leaves of certain trees being esteemed especially efficacious. Among the Hindus, if an infant refuse its food, and appear to decline in health, the inference is drawn that an evil spirit has taken possession of it. As this demon is supposed to dwell in some particular tree, the mothers of the northern districts of Bengal frequently destroy the unfortunate infant’s life by depositing it in a basket, and hanging the same on the demon’s tree, where it perishes miserably.[11]

In Burmah the worship of Nats, or spirits of nature, is very general. Indeed among the Karens, and numerous other tribes, this spirit-worship is their only form of belief. The shrines of these Nats are often, in the form of cages, suspended in Peepul or other trees—by preference the Le’pan tree, from the wood of which coffins are made. When a Burman starts on a journey, he hangs a bunch of Plantains, or a spray of the sacred Eugenia, on the pole of his buffalo cart, to conciliate any spirit he may intrude upon. The lonely hunter in the forest deposits some Rice, and ties together a few leaves, whenever he comes across some imposing-looking tree, lest there should be a Nat dwelling there. Should there be none, the tied-back leaves will, at any rate, stand in evidence to the Nat or demon who presides over the forest. Some of the Nats or spirits are known far and wide by special or generic names. There is the Hmin Nat who lives in woods, and shakes those he meets so that they go mad. There is the Akakasoh, who lives in the tops of trees; Shekkasoh, who lives in the trunk; and Boomasoh, who dwells contentedly in the roots. The presence of spirits or demons in trees the Burman believes may always be ascertained by the quivering and trembling of the leaves when all around is still.

Schweinfurth, the African explorer, tells us that, at the present day, among the Bongos and the Niam-Niams, woods and forests are regarded with awe as weird and mysterious places, the abodes of supernatural beings. The malignant spirits who are believed to inhabit the dark and gloomy forests, and who inspire the Bongos with extraordinary terror, have, like the Devil, wizards, and witches, a distinctive name: they are called bitÂbohs; whilst the sylvan spirits inhabiting groves and woods are known as rangas. Under this last designation are comprised owls of different species, bats, and the ndorr, a small ape, with large red eyes and erect ears, which shuns the light of day, and hides itself in the trunks of trees, from whence it comes forth at night. As a protection against the influence of these malignant spirits of the woods, the Bongos have recourse to certain magical roots which are sold to them by their medicine-men. According to those worthies no one can enter into communication with the wood spirits except by means of certain roots, which enable the possessor to exorcise evil spirits, or give him the power of casting spells. All old people, but especially women, are suspected of having relations, more or less intimate, with the sylvan spirits, and of consulting the malign demons of the woods when they wish to injure any of their neighbours. This belief in evil spirits, which is general among the Bongos and other tribes of Africa, exists also among the Niam-Niams. For the latter, the forest is the abode of invisible beings who are constantly conspiring to injure man; and in the rustling of the foliage they imagine they hear the mysterious dialogues of the ghostly inhabitants of the woods.

The ancient German race, in whom there existed a deep reverence for trees, peopled their groves and forests with a whole troup of Waldgeister, both beneficent and malevolent. A striking example is to be seen in the case of the Elder, in which dwells the Hylde-moer (Elder-mother), or Hylde-vinde (Elder-queen), who avenges all injuries done to the Elder-tree. On this account Elder branches may not be cut until permission has been asked of the Hylde-moer. In Lower Saxony the woodman will, on his bended knee, ask permission of the Elder-tree before cutting it, in these words: “Lady Elder, give me some of thy wood; then will I give thee, also, some of mine when it grows in the forest.” This formula is repeated three times.

Nearly allied to the tree-spirits were the Corn-spirits,[12] which haunted and protected the green or yellow fields. Mr. Ralston tells us that by the popular fancy they were often symbolised under the form of wolves, or of “buckmen,” goat-legged creatures, similar to the classic Satyrs. “When the wind blows the long Grass or waving Corn, German peasants still say, ‘The Grass-wolf’ or ‘The Corn-wolf,’ is abroad! In some places the last sheaf of Rye is left as a shelter to the Roggenwolf, or Rye-wolf, during the winter’s cold; and in many a summer or autumn festive rite, that being is represented by a rustic, who assumes a wolf-like appearance. The Corn-spirit, however, was often symbolised under a human form.”

The belief in the existence of a spirit whose life is bound up in that of the tree it inhabits remains to the present day. There is a wide-spread German belief that if a sick man is passed through a cleft made in a tree, which is immediately afterwards bound up, the man and the tree become mysteriously connected—if the tree flourishes so will the man; but if it withers he will die. Should, however, the tree survive the man, the soul of the latter will inhabit the tree; and (according to Pagan tradition) if the tree be felled and used for ship-building, the dead man’s ghost becomes the haunting genius of the ship. This strange notion may have had its origin in the classic story of the Argonauts and their famous ship. A beam on the prow of the Argo had been cut by Minerva out of the forest of Dodona, where the trees were thought to be inhabited by oracular spirits: hence the beam retained the power of giving oracles to the voyagers, and warned them that they would never reach their country till Jason had been purified of the murder of Absyrtus. There is a story that tells how, when a musician cut a piece of wood from a tree into which a girl had been metamorphosed by her angry mother, he was startled to see blood oozing from the wound. And when he had shaped it into a bow, and played with it upon his violin before her mother, such a heart-rending wail made itself heard, that the mother was struck with remorse, and bitterly repented of her hasty deed. Mr. Ralston quotes a Czekh story of a Nymph who appeared day by day among men, but always went back to her willow by night. She married a mortal, bare him children, and lived happily with him, till at length he cut down her Willow-tree: that moment his wife died. Out of this Willow was made a cradle, which had the power of instantly lulling to sleep the babe she had left behind her; and when the babe became a child, it was able to hold converse with its dead mother by means of a pipe, cut from the twigs growing on the stump, which once had been that mother’s abiding-place.