“I’ll seek a four-leaved clover
In all the fairy dells,
And if I find the charmed leaf,
Oh, how I’ll weave my spells.”
Every Plant is surrounded by a halo of human thought. If one is able to discern that halo, he finds a new and fascinating interest attaching itself to each herb and flower. The most humble of them become fortune-tellers, luck-bringers, and talismen against evil, as well as dwelling-places of fairies, elves, imps, and other ethereal mischief-makers.
In the childhood of humanity, the earth was a very romantic place. In addition to the familiar human inhabitants, there were whole races of supernatural and invisible beings which wielded great influence over the every-day world of affairs. Every plant was considered good or evil, according to the character of the spirits which it was believed to harbour.
People of this practical age are inclined to look upon these stories with contemptuous intolerance. “We have outgrown such baby-talk,” they say, and forthwith relegate whole kingdoms of elfin hosts to their children’s nurseries, or possibly refuse them their homes entirely. But to a few discerning minds, these idle dreams of a romantic past offer a most refreshing contrast to present-day utilitarianism.
The airy fancies of our forefathers should have a larger share in our thought today. A single flower myth contains more beauty and enduring appeal than a hundred steel mills. We must go back to the youth of the race,—to the time of Shakespeare, Milton, and gentle Ben Jonson,—for our noblest literature. In those days, men actually believed in fairies, goblins, and all the rest, and were probably better for having done so. We, with our broader intellectual outlook, can congratulate ourselves that we have advanced beyond such things, but still appreciate their spirit and their beauty.
In studying plant mythology, it is interesting to notice that certain traditions and legends are to be found in all parts of the world and in many widely separated localities, forming, as it were, the ground-work of a great universal system of folklore. This would suggest that plant myths are founded mainly on true and inherent facts rather than on passing fancies. Almost all the nations have chosen the Rose for the queen of the floral court, and therefore the most fitting symbol of love. The White Lily has purity written on its spotless petals, and could never stand for anything else, anywhere. The Poppy is a brilliant, sensuous flower, quite suggestive of the narcotic excesses which its opium induces. Many extravagant plant beliefs of the past had their foundation in medicine. In the Middle Ages, quacks and charlatans used herbs having curative powers to exhort money from the masses. A few of the correctives were of real value, but there were thousands of out-and-out deceptions. Even so redolent and simple a thing as the common Onion was sometimes suspended in a room in the belief that it would draw all troublesome maladies out of the inmates. The first herbalists were priests, but gradually their art passed into the hands of professional outsiders, where it suffered greater and greater abuse.
One ancient dogma taught that each plant possessed the power of healing one particular disease, made known by some outward sign or similiarity. Thus bright-eyed flowers were good for those with failing sight; red blossoms of all kinds would arrest nose-bleed; Turmeric, a very yellow dye, cured jaundice; plants with long, tubular flowers were excellent specifics for throat troubles.
Many of these medicinal superstitions linger among the more simple of the earth’s inhabitants today. Dutch and English countrymen still believe that a Potato carried in the pocket is a sort of protective charm against rheumatism. In Ohio, the farmers sometimes wear a string of Job’s Tears seeds in an effort to cure goitre. In New England, the same magic charm is used to help babies through the troublesome period of teething.
The devil and his evil spirits have always wielded a large influence over certain members of the plant kingdom. In Scotland, up until the seventeenth century, it was customary to allow a small section of each farm to lie untilled and uncropped as a peace offering to Satan. In certain English counties, children of today will not pick Blackberries after a certain date, believing that the Evil One has trampled them and made them poisonous to humans. German peasants, without batting an eye, will tell you that the devil, in one form or another, has the regular habit of stealing portions of their crops.
Of plants that are dedicated to Satan, or more properly, which he has appropriated, there are many hundreds. Toadstools, because of their miraculously fast growth and fantastic shape, have always been associated with the kingdom of evil. It is not quite so apparent why other more beautiful plants are also handed over to Satan, though a reason can usually be found. The most alluring and gorgeous flowers are quite apt to be poisonous.
In old Bohemia, the Belladonna was a favourite of the devil. He could be enticed from it on Walpurgis Night by letting loose a black hen, after which he ran. In Russia, people shun the Sow-Thistle as a devil-plant. Some Germans believe that evil spirits lurk in Lettuce beds. To the same people, the Herban is the “Devil’s Eye.” Many nationalities are quite sure that the Herb-Bennett, when kept in a house, takes its owners out from under the devil’s influence. Thistle is often used for the same purpose. The Greeks used to place a Laurel bough over their doors to ward off evil. There is an English Fungus called Lycoperdon, or Puff-Ball, which produces a mass of dusty spores not unlike snuff. The annoyance experienced by people in the vicinity of the bursting pods has led to the plant being called “Devil’s Snuff-Box.” Children use it for various amusing pranks.
Closely allied to the devil-plants are the witch-plants, vegetable favourites of his human emissaries. The Elder is supposed to be a frequent meeting-place of these sinister hags; under its branches they bury their satanic offspring.
The witches employ the deadly Night-Shade in their vile concoctions. It is reputed to spring from the foam of the vicious, many-headed dog which guards the infernal regions. The Vervain and the Rue are also ingredients. The fact that the former was at one time sacred to Thor, and was also used in the rituals of the Druids, is a possible explanation of its evil name. Rue as a narcotic capable of producing hallucinations, is most naturally a witch’s plant. Strange to say, both of these plants are sometimes used as charms against witches. The Romans used the Vervain in casting lots, telling fortunes, and foreshadowing national events. Many other plants, ordinarily harmless, become the possessors of evil charms when gathered under certain circumstances. Thus, Shakespeare speaks of “root of hemlock digg’d i’ the dark,” and “slips of yew sliver’d in the moon’s eclipse,” as being cast into the bubbling pot.
The Fox Glove is “Witches’ Bell,” and is used by them to decorate their fingers. They employ the large Ragwort as a steed for their midnight journeys. In Ireland it is known as “Fairies’ Horse.” It is said that witches use Fern seed to make themselves invisible. In Germany they employ the Luck Flower for the same purpose. The Sea Poppy and the Moonwart (Botrychium Lunaria) are also numbered among the witch-plants. To the latter is also given the power of opening locks.
In England, Pimpernel, Herb-Paris and Cyclamen are protections against witches. In Germany and many other continental countries, the St. John’s Wort is their enemy and exposer.
The fairies have appropriated many flowers for their especial use. Despite the disbelief of latter days, to some people elfland still extends around the globe, and defies all the laws of chemistry and physics. It is still fairy midnight trippings which form those mysterious circles or depressions often to be noticed on the dewy sward of early morning. When the peasant girls of England go out into the meadows to beautify their complexions with applications of May dew, they always leave these mystic circles severely alone, for fear of offending the fays.
Midnight is the fairy magic hour. At the trumpet call of the Harebell, they gallop to their meeting-places mounted on blades of Grass or on Cabbage leaves. Sometimes they assemble to the tolling of the Wood-Sorrel or “Fairy Bell”. For more extended migrations, they travel in Nuts. They usually dress in green and provide themselves with mantles of Gossamer. The Irish ones use Fox-Glove blossoms to cover their hands. In infancy, the fays are cradled in Tulips and throughout life, they use the Cowslip as a drinking cup, and seek shelter of the Wood-Anemone in wet weather.
In some localities, it is believed that the fairies create the Toad-Stools. They are also reputed to gather colours from the sunset clouds, and with tiny but accurate brushes cover flower petals with their delicate tints. Fairies seldom reveal themselves to men, but the lucky possessor of a four-leafed Clover is sometimes privileged to see them.
From time immemorial, men and maidens in love have sought the aid of their floral friends. Which of us is there who has not gone to the Daisy in some heart perplexity of youth, and made its petals say, “She loves me; She loves me not,” as we pulled them off one by one? An older and less known superstition says that an Apple seed placed on a hot stove will hop towards one’s future mate.
In England, the Marigold is used for various love divinations, but in Germany it is carefully excluded from affairs of the heart. In that latter country the Star-Flower and the Dandelion are popular in such cases. There was a time when Peas were much in demand for sentimental forecasts. On opening a pod, the number of green spheres discovered had a special significance. The dwarves were supposed to be especially fond of Peas. Even the prosaic Onion has at times been used to explain the mysteries of the divine emotion.
The Rose, most superb of flowers, has been extolled through all ages as the symbol of love. Incidentally, it is the national flower of England. The Scotch have a pretty ballad legend about Fair Margaret and Sweet William. The beautiful love of these two young people never realized itself in marriage. They both met an untimely death and were buried on either side of the neighbouring church. Soon there sprang up a climbing Rose vine from the grave of each, and meeting on the gable of the church, the lovers entwined in the lasting embrace which had been denied in life. Red Roses, because of their colour, have sometimes been supposed to have a relation to human blood. The medieval girl used to bury a few drops of her blood under a Rosebush in the hope that this action would bring her ruddy cheeks. The Romans used the Rose as the symbol of love for the dead. They placed it extensively on their tombs.
In the past, there have arisen rumours of plants of wondrous properties which have been the mere inventions of glory-seeking travelers. Sir John Mandeville was a famous offender who even issued reports of trees which produced live animals in their fruits.
The old Greeks used to decorate their tombs with Parsley. When a person was dangerously ill, it was often said, “He has need now of nothing but Parsley.”
The humble Bean has at times been afforded superstitious reverence. It is said that Pythagoras forbade his disciples to eat it.
The anxiety to secure good crops has led to many superstitious practices. In the pagan days of Germany and likewise in Rome, an image was carried around each field in order to insure its fertility. After the introduction of Christianity, the image of a saint was substituted for the heathen deity, and the practice continued.
Again and again, the Onion, whose name today is only mentioned with bated breath, crops up among old plant superstitions. Because of its structure of enveloping sheaths, the Egyptians rightly considered it a splendid symbol of the universe. In Christian days, St. Thomas patronized it. Its cousin, the Leek, bears the blossom which Welshmen still hail as their national flower. It is worn by all loyal patriots on March first, St. David’s Day.
The Thistle, Scotland’s national flower, was once sacred to Thor. In those days it was regarded as a safeguard against lightning, from which it got its colour. Ireland’s Shamrock belongs to the Trefoil family, and is sometimes called Dutch Clover, though the Wood-Sorrel is claimed by some to be the true Shamrock. St. Patrick once used it as a natural symbol of the trinity, through which it became nationalized.
Superstitions of the four-leafed Clover have lingered in the imaginations of men almost more than those of any other plant. To be efficacious in bringing good luck, the little talisman must be found unawares. If slipped into the shoe of a lover, it will insure his safe return. The finding of a five-leaved Clover brings bad luck.
Superstition plays its part in the evolution of knowledge, and speculation is the parent of modern science. Astrologers, reading the fortunes of nations and individuals in the stars, paved the way for the great and exact science of astronomy. Studious alchemists in searching for a cheap way to make gold, laid the foundations of the profound science of chemistry. In a similar way, the old herbalists, with their secret potions and mysterious compounds, were the instigators of the accurate study of medicine, and most important from our standpoint, were instruments which greatly advanced the love and growing appreciation of plants and flowers.