HOLLY (Ilex aquifolium). Holly, with its beautiful red berries and unique leaf, stiff and prickly, but highly decorative, is the chief emblem of Christmas. We are continuing very ancient traditions when we hang up our Christmas wreaths and garlands. The earliest records of the human race contain references to the custom of decorating houses and temples and evergreens on occasions of rejoicing. Holly comes to us from pagan usage. Five hundred years before the birth of Christ the Romans had been celebrating their midwinter festival—the Saturnalia—commemorating the equality supposed to have existed on earth in the golden reign of Saturn. The Saturnalia was a period of general merry-making and relaxation. People gave each other presents, wished each other "Io Saturnalia," just as we wish each other "Merry At a season when everything was chosen to com One of the earliest Christmas carols, dating from the Fifteenth Century, describes a contest of Holly and Ivy for the chief place in the hall. Holly is the man and Ivy the woman. They have an argument (which is a kind of duet), each setting forth his or her claim to superiority. Finally, it is decided that Holly, with his beautiful red berries, shall reign in the hall instead of Ivy, whose berries are black. Moreover, many sweet birds are attracted to Holly; but only the owl loves Ivy. Holly is, of course, the subject of many carols. A typical one of the Fifteenth Century is as follows: Here comes Holly, that is so gent, Alleluia! To please all men is his intent, Alleluia! But lord and lady of the hall, Alleluia! Whosoever against Holly call, Alleluia! Whosoever against Holly do cry, Alleluia! In a lepe shall he hang full high. Alleluia! Whosoever against Holly do sing, Alleluia! He may weep and his handys wring, Alleluia! From the above it will be seen that it was a crime to say a derogatory word about holly. Holly was not only loved for its beauty but it was a holy plant. Witches detested it and it was a charm against their evil machinations. The name comes from the Anglo-Saxon holegn. The Norse word is hulf, or hulver; and as Chaucer calls it "Hulfeere" we may conclude that holly was familiar to the people of Chaucer's time under that name. It is somewhat singular that Shakespeare has written a song of wintry wind and holly berries to be sung in the Forest of Arden. It affords, however, a delightful contrast to the sun-lit summer woodland. While in it holly is not actually described, Amiens's song will always remain the song of songs to holly: Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude. Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly: Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly. Then heigh ho the holly! This life is most jolly. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, Thou dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot; Though thou the waters warp Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remembered not. Heigh ho! sing, heigh ho! unto the green holly: Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly. Then, heigh ho! the holly! This life is most jolly. IVY (Hedera Helix). Shakespeare mentions ivy twice: in "A Midsummer Night's Dream" where Titania, bidding Bottom sleep, says: Sleep thou and I will wind thee in my arms ... the female ivy so Enrings the barky fingers of the elm. and in "The Tempest," when Prospero compares his false brother with the ivy: In the old carols and plays Ivy is always represented as a woman, and yet, although beloved, was used for the outside decorations and doorways. Ivy never had the place within that holly occupied. As ivy clings and embraces the object near it, the plant was chosen as an emblem of confiding love and friendship. Tusser's commands are as follows: "Get Ivy and Holly, women, deck up thy house." Ivy was also used in the church decorations at Christmas-tide. In the Middle Ages ivy was a favored and most auspicious plant. An old carol says: Ivy is soft and meke of speech, Against all bale she is bliss, Well is he that her may reach:— Veni, coronaberis. Ivy is green with color bright, Of all trees best she is, And that I prove will now be right:— Veni, coronaberis. Ivy beareth berries black, God grant us all His bliss, For there we shall nothing lack:— Ivy was the crown of the Greek and Roman poets, whose myths proclaimed the plant sacred to Bacchus. Indeed the plant took its name from Bacchus (kissos) for it was said that the child was hidden under ivy when abandoned by his mother, Semele. The ivy was mingled with the grape in the crown of Bacchus and it enwreathed his thyrsus. Ivy berries eaten before wine was swallowed prevented intoxication, so Pliny says. Perhaps because of its association with Bacchus ivy was hung at the vintners' doors in England as well as on the Continent, and a reference to this custom is contained in Nash's "Summer's Last Will and Testament" (1600). In Shakespeare's time ivy was considered a remedy against plague, which gave another reason for veneration. England would almost cease to be England without the ivy that so luxuriantly covers the walls of old buildings and adds its soft beauty to the crumbling ruins. Everybody loves it—strangers as well as natives; and every one loves the poem that Dickens inserted into "The Pickwick Papers": Oh, a dainty plant is the Ivy green, That creepeth o'er ruins old! On right choice food are his meals, I ween, The wall must be crumbled, the stone decay'd To pleasure his dainty whim; And the mouldering dust that years have made, Is a merry meal for him. Creeping where no life is seen, A rare old plant is the Ivy green! First, he stealeth on, though he wears no wings, And a staunch old heart has he; How closely he turneth, how close he clings, To his friend, the huge oak tree! And slily he traileth along the ground, And his leaves he gently waves, As he joyously hugs and crawleth round The rich mould of men's graves. Creeping where grim Death hath been, A rare old plant is the Ivy green! Whole ages have fled and their works decayed, And nations have scattered been; But the stout old ivy shall never fade From its hale and hearty green. The brave old plant in its lonely days Shall fatten on the past, For the stateliest building man can raise Is the ivy's food at last. Creeping on where Time has been A rare old plant is the Ivy green! |