The Folk lore of Plants - T. F. Thiselton Dyer
The yew has from time immemorial been planted in churchyards besides
being used at funerals. Paris, in "Romeo and Juliet", (Act v. sc. 3),
says:--
"Under yon yew trees lay thee all along,
Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground;
So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread,
Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves,
But thou shall hear it."
Shakespeare also refers to the custom of sticking yew in the shroud in
the following song in "Twelfth Night" (Act ii. sc. 4):--
"My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
Oh, prepare it;
My part of death, no one so true
Did share it."
Unhappy lovers had garlands of willow, yew, and rosemary laid on their
biers, an allusion to which occurs in the "Maid's Tragedy":--
"Lay a garland on my hearse
Of the dismal yew;
Maidens, willow branches bear--
Say I died true.
My love was false, but I was firm
From my hour of birth;
Upon my buried body lie
Lightly, gentle earth."
Among further funeral customs may be mentioned that of carrying a
garland of flowers and sweet herbs before a maiden's coffin, and
afterwards suspending it in the church. Nichols, in his "History of
Lancashire" (vol. ii. pt. i. 382), speaking of Waltham in Framland
Hundred, says: "In this church under every arch a garland is suspended,
one of which is customarily placed there whenever any young unmarried
woman dies." It is to this custom Gay feelingly alludes:--
"To her sweet mem'ry flowing garlands strung,
On her now empty seat aloft were hung."
Indeed, in all the ceremonial observances of life, from the cradle to
the grave, flowers have formed a prominent feature, the symbolical
meaning long attached to them explaining their selection on different
occasions.
Footnotes:
1. See "Flower-lore," p. 147.
2. "The Ceremonial Use of Flowers."
3. _Fraser's Magazine_, 1870, p. 711.
4. "Flower-lore," pp. 149-50.
5. Miss Lambert, _Nineteenth Century_, May 1880, p. 821.
6. _Nineteenth Century_, September 1878, p. 473.
7. "Popular Antiquities," 1870, ii. 24, &c.
CHAPTER XIII.
PLANT NAMES.
The origin and history of plant names is a subject of some magnitude,
and is one that has long engaged the attention of philologists. Of the
many works published on plant names, that of the "English Dialect
Society"[1] is by far the most complete, and forms a valuable addition
to this class of literature.
Some idea of the wide area covered by the nomenclature of plants, as
seen in the gradual evolution and descent of vernacular names, may be
gathered even from a cursory survey of those most widely known in our
own and other countries. Apart, too, from their etymological
associations, it is interesting to trace the variety of sources from
whence plant names have sprung, a few illustrations of which are given
in the present chapter.
At the outset, it is noteworthy that our English plant names can boast
of a very extensive parentage, being, "derived from many
languages--Latin, Greek, ancient British, Anglo-Saxon, Norman, Low
German, Swedish, Danish, Arabic, Persian."[2] It is not surprising,
therefore, that in many cases much confusion has arisen in unravelling
their meaning, which in the course of years would naturally become more
or less modified by a succession of influences such as the
intercommunication and change of ideas between one country and another.
On the other hand, numerous plant names clearly display their origin,
the lapse of years having left these unaffected, a circumstance which is
especially true in the case of Greek and Latin names. Names of French
origin are frequently equally distinct, a familiar instance being
dandelion, from the French _dent-de-lion_, "lion's tooth," although the
reason for its being so called is by no means evident. At the same time,
it is noticeable that in nearly every European language the plant bears
a similar name; whereas Professor De Gubernatis connects the name with
the sun (Helios), and adds that a lion was the animal symbol of the sun,
and that all plants named after him are essentially plants of the
sun.[3] One of the popular names of the St. John's wort is tutsan, a
corruption of the French _toute saine_, so called from its healing
properties, and the mignonette is another familiar instance. The
flower-de-luce, one of the names probably of the iris, is derived from
_fleur de Louis_, from its having been assumed as his device by Louis
VII. of France. It has undergone various changes, having been in all
probability contracted into fleur-de-luce, and finally into fleur-de-lys
or fleur-de-lis. An immense deal of discussion has been devoted to the
history of this name, and a great many curious theories proposed in
explanation of it, some being of opinion that the lily and not the iris
is referred to. But the weight of evidence seem to favour the iris
theory, this plant having been undoubtedly famous in French history.
Once more, by some,[4] the name fleur-de-lys has been derived from Loeys,
in which manner the twelve first Louis signed their names, and which was
easily contracted into Lys. Some consider it means the flower that grows
on the banks of the river Lis, which separated France and Artois from
Flanders. Turning to the literature of the past, Shakespeare has several
allusions to the plant, as in "I Henry VI," where a messenger enters and
exclaims:--
"Awake, awake, English nobility!
Let not sloth dim your honours new begot;
Cropp'd are the flower-de-luces in your arms;
Of England's coat one half is cut away."
Spenser mentions the plant, and distinguishes it from the lily:--
"Show mee the grounde with daifadown-dillies,
And cowslips, and kingcups, and loved lillies;
The pretty pawnee,
And the cherisaunce,
Shall march with the fayre flowre delice."
Another instance is the mignonette of our French neighbours, known also
as the "love-flower." One of the names of the deadly nightshade is
belladonna which reminds us of its Italian appellation, and "several of
our commonest plant names are obtained from the Low German or Dutch, as,
for instance, buckwheat (_Polygonum fagopyrum_), from the Dutch
_bockweit_." The rowan-tree (_Pyrus aucuparia_) comes from the Danish
_roeun_, Swedish _ruenn_, which, as Dr. Prior remarks, is traceable to the
"old Norse _runa_, a charm, from its being supposed to have power to
avert evil." Similarly, the adder's tongue (_Ophioglossum vulgatum_) is
said to be from the Dutch _adder-stong_, and the word hawthorn is found
in the various German dialects.
As the authors of "English Plant Names" remark (Intr. xv.), many
north-country names are derived from Swedish and Danish sources, an
interesting example occurring in the word _kemps_, a name applied to the
black heads of the ribwort plantain (_Plantago lanceolata_). The origin
of this name is to be found in the Danish _kaempe_, a warrior, and the
reason for its being so called is to be found in the game which children
in most parts of the kingdom play with the flower-stalks of the
plantain, by endeavouring to knock off the heads of each other's mimic
weapons. Again, as Mr. Friend points out, the birch would take us back
to the primeval forests of India, and among the multitudinous instances
of names traceable to far-off countries may be mentioned the lilac and
tulip from Persia, the latter being derived from _thoulyban_, the word
used in Persia for a turban. Lilac is equivalent to _lilag_, a Persian
word signifying flower, having been introduced into Europe from that
country early in the sixteenth century by Busbeck, a German traveller.
But illustrations of this land are sufficient to show from how many
countries our plant names have been brought, and how by degrees they
have become interwoven into our own language, their pronunciation being
Anglicised by English speakers.
Many plants, again, have been called in memory of leading characters in
days gone by, and after those who discovered their whereabouts and
introduced them into European countries. Thus the fuchsia, a native of
Chili, was named after Leonard Fuchs, a well-known German botanist, and
the magnolia was so called in honour of Pierre Magnol, an eminent writer
on botanical subjects. The stately dahlia after Andrew Dahl, the Swedish
botanist. But, without enumerating further instances, for they are
familiar to most readers, it may be noticed that plants which embody the
names of animals are very numerous indeed. In many cases this has
resulted from some fancied resemblance to some part of the animal named;
thus from their long tongued-like leaves, the hart's-tongue,
lamb's-tongue, and ox-tongue were so called, while some plants have
derived their names from the snouts of certain animals, such as the
swine's-snout (_Lentodon taraxacum_), and calf's-snout, or, as it is
more commonly termed, snapdragon (_Antirrhinum majus_). The gaping
corollas of various blossoms have suggested such names as dog's-mouth,
rabbit's-mouth, and lion's-snap, and plants with peculiarly-shaped
leaves have given rise to names like these--mouse-ear (_Stachys
Zanaia_), cat's-ears, and bear's-ears. Numerous names have been
suggested by their fancied resemblance to the feet, hoofs, and tails of
animals and birds; as, for instance, colt's-foot, crow-foot, bird's-foot
trefoil, horse-shoe vetch, bull-foot, and the vervain, nicknamed
frog's-foot. Then there is the larkspur, also termed lark's-claw, and
lark's-heel, the lamb's-toe being so called from its downy heads of
flowers, and the horse-hoof from the shape of the leaf. Among various
similar names may be noticed the crane's-bill and stork's-bill, from
their long beak-like seed-vessels, and the valerian, popularly
designated capon's-tail, from its spreading flowers.
Many plant names have animal prefixes, these indeed forming a very
extensive list. But in some instances, "the name of an animal prefixed
has a totally different signification, denoting size, coarseness, and
frequently worthlessness or spuriousness." Thus the horse-parsley was so
called from its coarseness as compared with smallage or celery, and the
horse-mushroom from its size in distinction to a species more commonly
eaten. The particular uses to which certain plants have been applied
have originated their names: the horse-bean, from being grown as a food
for horses; and the horse-chestnut, because used in Turkey for horses
that are broken or touched in the wind. Parkinson, too, adds how,
"horse-chestnuts are given in the East, and so through all Turkey, unto
horses to cure them of the cough, shortness of wind, and such other
diseases." The germander is known as horse-chere, from its growing after
horse-droppings; and the horse-bane, because supposed in Sweden to cause
a kind of palsy in horses--an effect which has been ascribed by Linnaeus
not so much to the noxious qualities of the plant itself, as to an
insect (_Curculio paraplecticus_) that breeds in its stem.
The dog has suggested sundry plant names, this prefix frequently
suggesting the idea of worthlessness, as in the case of the dog-violet,
which lacks the sweet fragrance of the true violet, and the dog-parsley,
which, whilst resembling the true plant of this name, is poisonous and
worthless. In like manner there is the dog-elder, dog's-mercury,
dog's-chamomile, and the dog-rose, each a spurious form of a plant quite
distinct; while on the other hand we have the dog's-tooth grass, from
the sharp-pointed shoots of its underground stem, and the dog-grass
(_Triticum caninu_), because given to dogs as an aperient.
The cat has come in for its due share of plant names, as for instance
the sun-spurge, which has been nicknamed cat's-milk, from its milky
juice oozing in drops, as milk from the small teats of a cat; and the
blossoms of the talix, designated cats-and-kittens, or kittings,
probably in allusion to their soft, fur-like appearance. Further names
are, cat's-faces (_Viola tricolor_), cat's-eyes (_Veronica chamcaedrys_),
cat's-tail, the catkin of the hazel or willow, and cat's-ear
(_Hypochaeris maculata_).
The bear is another common prefix. Thus there is the bear's-foot, from
its digital leaf, the bear-berry, or bear's-bilberry, from its fruit
being a favourite food of bears, and the bear's-garlick. There is the
bear's-breech, from its roughness, a name transferred by some mistake
from the Acanthus to the cow-parsnip, and the bear's-wort, which it has
been suggested "is rather to be derived from its use in uterine
complaints than from the animal."
Among names in which the word cow figures may be mentioned the cow-bane,
water-hemlock, from its supposed baneful effects upon cows, because,
writes Withering, "early in the spring, when it grows in the water, cows
often eat it, and are killed by it." Cockayne would derive cowslip from
_cu_, cow, and _slyppe_, lip, and cow-wheat is so nicknamed from its
seed resembling wheat, but being worthless as food for man. The flowers
of the _Arum maculatum_ are "bulls and cows;" and in Yorkshire the fruit
of _Crataegus oxyacantha_ is bull-horns;--an old name for the horse-leek
being bullock's-eye.
Many curious names have resulted from the prefix pig, as in Sussex,
where the bird's-foot trefoil is known as pig's-pettitoes; and in
Devonshire the fruit of the dog-rose is pig's-noses. A Northamptonshire
term for goose-grass (_Galium aparine_) is pig-tail, and the pig-nut
(_Brunium flexuosum_) derived this name from its tubers being a
favourite food of pigs, and resembling nuts in size and flavour. The
common cyclamen is sow-head, and a popular name for the _Sonchus
oleraceus_ is sow-thistle. Among further names also associated with the
sow may be included the sow-fennel, sow-grass, and sow-foot, while the
sow-bane (_Chenopodium rubrum_), is so termed from being, as Parkinson
tells us, "found certain to kill swine."
Among further animal prefixes may be noticed the wolfs-bane (_Aconitum
napellus_), wolf's-claws (_Lycopodium clavatum_), wolf's-milk
(_Euphorbia helioscopia_), and wolfs-thistle (_Carlina acaulis_). The
mouse has given us numerous names, such as mouse-ear (_Hieracium
pilosella_), mouse-grass (_Aira caryophyllea_), mouse-ear scorpion-grass
(_Myosotis palustris_), mouse-tail (_Myosurus minimus_), and mouse-pea.
The term rat-tail has been applied to several plants having a tail-like
inflorescence, such as the _Plantago lanceolata_ (ribwort plantain).
The term toad as a prefix, like that of dog, frequently means spurious,
as in the toad-flax, a plant which, before it comes into flower, bears a
tolerably close resemblance to a plant of the true flax. The frog,
again, supplies names, such as frog's-lettuce, frog's-foot, frog-grass,
and frog-cheese; while hedgehog gives us such names as hedgehog-parsley
and hedgehog-grass.
Connected with the dragon we have the name dragon applied to the
snake-weed (_Polygonum bistorta_), and dragon's-blood is one of the
popular names of the Herb-Robert. The water-dragon is a nickname of the
_Caltha palustris_, and dragon's-mouth of the _Digitalis purpurea_.
Once more, there is scorpion-grass and scorpion-wort, both of which
refer to various species of Myosotis; snakes and vipers also adding to
the list. Thus there is viper's-bugloss, and snake-weed. In
Gloucestershire the fruit of the _Arum maculatum_ is snake's-victuals,
and snake's-head is a common name for thefritillary. There is the
snake-skin willow and snake's-girdles;--snake's-tongue being a name
given to the bane-wort (_Ranunculus flammula_).
Names in which the devil figures have been noticed elsewhere, as also
those in which the words fairy and witch enter. As the authors, too, of
the "Dictionary of Plant Names" have pointed out, a great number of
names may be called dedicatory, and embody the names of many of the
saints, and even of the Deity. The latter, however, are very few in
number, owing perhaps to a sense of reverence, and "God Almighty's bread
and cheese," "God's eye," "God's grace," "God's meat," "Our Lord's, or
Our Saviour's flannel," "Christ's hair," "Christ's herb," "Christ's
ladder," "Christ's thorn," "Holy Ghost," and "Herb-Trinity," make up
almost the whole list. On the other hand, the Virgin Mary has suggested
numerous names, some of which we have noticed in the chapter on sacred
plants. Certain of the saints, again, have perpetuated their names in
our plant nomenclature, instances of which are scattered throughout the
present volume.
Some plants, such as flea-bane and wolf's-bane, refer to the reputed
property of the plant to keep off or injure the animal named,[5] and
there is a long list of plants which derived their names from their real
or imaginary medicinal virtues, many of which illustrate the old
doctrine of signatures.
Birds, again, like animals, have suggested various names, and among some
of the best-known ones may be mentioned the goose-foot, goose-grass,
goose-tongue. Shakespeare speaks of cuckoo-buds, and there is
cuckoo's-head, cuckoo-flower, and cuckoo-fruit, besides the stork's-bill
and crane's-bill. Bees are not without their contingent of names; a
popular name of the _Delphinium grandiflorum_ being the bee-larkspur,
"from the resemblance of the petals, which are studded with yellow
hairs, to the humble-bee whose head is buried in the recesses of
the flower." There is the bee-flower (_Ophrys apifera_), because the,
"lip is in form and colour so like a bee, that any one unacquainted
therewith would take it for a living bee sucking of the flower."
In addition to the various classes of names already mentioned, there are
a rich and very varied assortment found in most counties throughout the
country, many of which have originated in the most amusing and eccentric
way. Thus "butter and eggs" and "eggs and bacon" are applied to several
plants, from the two shades of yellow in the flower, and butter-churn to
the _Nuphar luteum_, from the shape of the fruit. A popular term for
_Nepeta glechoma_ is "hen and chickens," and "cocks and hens" for the
_Plantago lanceolata_. A Gloucestershire nickname for the _Plantago
media_ is fire-leaves, and the hearts'-ease has been honoured with all
sorts of romantic names, such as "kiss me behind the garden gate;" and
"none so pretty" is one of the popular names of the saxifrage. Among the
names of the Arum may be noticed "parson in the pulpit," "cows and
calves," "lords and ladies," and "wake-robin." The potato has a variety
of names, such as leather-jackets, blue-eyes, and red-eyes.
A pretty name in Devonshire for the _Veronica chamcaedrys_ is
angel's-eyes:--
"Around her hat a wreath was twined
Of blossoms, blue as southern skies;
I asked their name, and she replied,
We call them angel's-eyes."[6]
In the northern counties the poplar, on account of its bitter bark, was
termed the bitter-weed.[7]
"Oak, ash, and elm-tree,
The laird can hang for a' the three;
But fir, saugh, and bitter-weed,
The laird may flyte, but make naething be'et."
According to the compilers of "English Plant Names," "this name is
assigned to no particular species of poplar, nor have we met with it
elsewhere." The common Solomon's seal (_Polygonatum multiflorum_) has
been nicknamed "David's harp,"[8] and, "appears to have arisen from the
exact similarity of the outline of the bended stalk, with its pendent
bill-like blossoms, to the drawings of monkish times in which King David
is represented as seated before an instrument shaped like the half of a
pointed arch, from which are suspended metal bells, which he strikes
with two hammers."
In the neighbourhood of Torquay, fir-cones are designated oysters, and
in Sussex the Arabis is called "snow-on-the-mountain," and
"snow-in-summer." A Devonshire name for the sweet scabriosis is the
mournful-widow, and in some places the red valerian (_Centranthus
ruber_) is known as scarlet-lightning. A common name for _Achillaea
ptarmica_ is sneezewort, and the _Petasites vulgaris_ has been
designated "son before the father." The general name for _Drosera
rotundifolia_ is sun-dew, and in Gloucestershire the _Primula auricula_
is the tanner's-apron. The _Viola tricolor_ is often known as "three
faces in a hood," and the _Aconitum napellus_ as "Venus's chariot drawn
by two doves." The _Stellaria holostea_ is "lady's white petticoat," and
the _Scandix pecten_ is "old wife's darning-needles." One of the names
of the Campion is plum-pudding, and "spittle of the stars" has been
applied to the _Nostoc commune_. Without giving further instances of
these odd plant names, we would conclude by quoting the following
extract from the preface of Mr. Earle's charming little volume on
"English Plant Names," a remark which, indeed, most equally applies to
other sections of our subject beyond that of the present chapter:--"The
fascination of plant names has its foundation in two instincts, love of
Nature, and curiosity about Language. Plant names are often of the
highest antiquity, and more or less common to the whole stream of
related nations. Could we penetrate to the original suggestive idea that
called forth the name, it would bring valuable information about the
first openings of the human mind towards Nature; and the merest dream of
such a discovery invests with a strange charm the words that could tell,
if we could understand, so much of the forgotten infancy of the human
race."
Footnotes:
1. "Dictionary of English Plant Names," by J. Britten and Robert
Holland. 1886.
2. "English Plant Names," Introduction, p. xiii.
3. See Folkard's "Legends," p. 309; Friend's "Flowers and Flowerlore,"
ii. 401-5.
4. See "Flower-lore," p. 74.
5. Friend's "Flower-lore," ii. 425.
6. _Garden_, June 29, 1872.
7. Johnston's "Botany of Eastern Borders," 1853, p. 177.
8. Lady Wilkinson's "Weeds and Wild Flowers," p. 269.
CHAPTER XIV.
PLANT LANGUAGE.
Plant language, as expressive of the various traits of human character,
can boast of a world-wide and antique history. It is not surprising that
flowers, the varied and lovely productions of nature's dainty handiwork,
should have been employed as symbolic emblems, and most aptly indicative
oftentimes of what words when even most wisely chosen can ill convey;
for as Tennyson remarks:--
"Any man that walks the mead
In bud, or blade, or bloom, may find
A meaning suited to his mind."
Hence, whether we turn to the pages of the Sacred Volume, or to the
early Greek writings, we find the symbolism of flowers most eloquently
illustrated, while Persian poetry is rich in allusions of the same kind.
Indeed, as Mr. Ingram has remarked in his "Flora Symbolica,"[1]--Every
age and every clime has promulgated its own peculiar system of floral
signs, and it has been said that the language of flowers is as old as
the days of Adam; having, also, thousands of years ago, existed in the
Indian, Egyptian, and Chaldean civilisations which have long since
passed away. He further adds how the Chinese, whose, "chronicles
antedate the historic records of all other nations, seem to have had a
simple but complete mode of communicating ideas by means of florigraphic
signs;" whereas, "the monuments of the old Assyrian and Egyptian races
bear upon their venerable surfaces a code of floral telegraphy whose
hieroglyphical meaning is veiled or but dimly guessed at in our day."
The subject is an extensive one, and also enters largely into the
ceremonial use of flowers, many of which were purposely selected for
certain rites from their long-established symbolical character. At the
same time, it must be remembered that many plants have had a meaning
attached to them by poets and others, who have by a license of their own
made them to represent certain sentiments and ideas for which there is
no authority save their own fancy.
Hence in numerous instances a meaning, wholly misguiding, has been
assigned to various plants, and has given rise to much confusion. This,
too, it may be added, is the case in other countries as well as our own.
Furthermore, as M. de Gubernatis observes, "there exist a great number of
books which pretend to explain the language of flowers, wherein one may
occasionally find a popular or traditional symbol; but, as a rule, these
expressions are generally the wild fancies of the author himself."
Hence, in dealing with plant language, one is confronted with a host of
handbooks, many of which are not only inaccurate, but misleading. But in
enumerating the recognised and well-known plants that have acquired a
figurative meaning, it will be found that in a variety of cases this may
be traced to their connection with some particular event in years past,
and not to some chance or caprice, as some would make us believe. The
amaranth, for instance, which is the emblem of immortality, received its
name, "never-fading," from the Greeks on account of the lasting nature
of its blossoms. Accordingly, Milton crowns with amaranth the angelic
multitude assembled before the Deity:--
"To the ground,
With solemn adoration, down they cast
Their crowns, inwove with amaranth and gold.
Immortal amaranth, a flower which once
In Paradise, fast by the tree of life,
Began to bloom; but soon, for man's offence,
To heaven removed, where first it grew, there grows
And flowers aloft, shading the font of life," &c.