The Folk lore of Plants - T. F. Thiselton Dyer
8. See Thorpe's "Northern Mythology," iii. 267.
9. See Folkard's "Plant Lore, Legends, and Lyrics," p. 209.
10. _Ibid._, p. 104.
11. See Kelly's "Indo-European Folk-lore," pp. 225-7.
12. See Hardwick's "Traditions, Superstitions, and Folk-lore," p. 117;
also Grimm's "Teutonic Mythology," 1883, iii. 1083.
13. See Thorpe's "Northern Mythology," 1852, iii. 21, 137.
14. "Popular Romances of the West of England," 1871, p. 330.
15. Grimm's "Teutonic Mythology," iii. 1084.
16. See Thorpe's "Northern Mythology," iii. 208-9.
17. See chap. "Doctrine of Signatures."
18. See Yardley's "Supernatural in Romantic Fiction," 1880, pp. 131-2.
19. See Fiske, "Myths and Mythmakers," p. 44; also Baring-Gould's
"Curious Myths of the Middle Ages," 1877, p. 398.
20. "Survey of London." See Mason's "Folk-lore of British Plants"
in _Dublin University Magazine_, September 1873, p. 326-8.
21. Mr. Conway's "Mystic Trees and Flowers," _Fraser's Magazine_,
1870, 602.
22. "British Herbal."
23. See Folkard's "Plant-lore Legends and Lyrics," p. 380.
24. "Plant-lore Legends and Lyrics," p. 376.
25. Henderson's "Folk-lore of Northern Counties," 1879, p. 225.
26. "Folk-lore of Northern Counties," 1879.
27. "Folk-medicine," p. 202.
CHAPTER VI.
PLANTS IN DEMONOLOGY.
The association of certain plants with the devil forms an extensive and
important division in their folk-lore, and in many respects is closely
connected with their mystic history. It is by no means easy always to
account for some of our most beautiful flowers having Satanic
surroundings, although frequently the explanation must be sought in
their poisonous and deadly qualities. In some cases, too, the student of
comparative mythology may trace their evil reputation to those early
traditions which were the expressions of certain primitive beliefs, the
survivals of which nowadays are found in many an apparently meaningless
superstition. Anyhow, the subject is a very wide one, and is equally
represented in most countries. It should be remembered, moreover, that
rudimentary forms of dualism--the antagonism of a good and evil
deity[1]--have from a remote period occupied men's minds, a system of
belief known even among the lower races of mankind. Hence, just as some
plants would in process of time acquire a sacred character, others would
do the reverse. Amongst the legendary stories and folktales of most
countries we find frequent allusion to the devil as an active agent in
utilising various flowers for his mischievous pursuits; and on the
Continent we are told of a certain evil spirit named Kleure who
transforms himself into a tree to escape notice, a superstition which
under a variety of forms still lingers here and there.[2] It would seem,
too, that in some of our old legends and superstitions the terms Puck
and Devil are synonymous, a circumstance which explains the meaning,
otherwise unintelligible, of many items of plant-lore in our own and
other countries. Thus the word "Puck" has been identified with
_Pogge_--toad, under which form the devil was supposed to be
personified; and hence probably originated such expressions as
toadstools, paddock-stools, &c. The thorns of the eglantine are said to
point downwards, because when the devil was excluded from heaven he
tried to regain his lost position by means of a ladder composed of its
thorns. But when the eglantine was only allowed to grow as a bush, out
of spite he placed its thorns in their present eccentric position. The
seed of the parsley, "is apt to come up only partially, according as the
devil takes his tithe of it."[3] In Germany "devil's oaks" are of
frequent occurrence, and "one of these at Gotha is held in great
regard."[4] and Gerarde, describing the vervain, with its manifold
mystic virtues, says that "the devil did reveal it as a secret and
divine medicine." Belladonna, writes Mr. Conway, is esteemed in Bohemia
a favourite plant of the devil, who watches it, but may be drawn from it
on Walpurgis Night by letting loose a black hen, after which he will
run. Then there is the sow-thistle, which in Russia is said to belong to
the devil; and Loki, the evil spirit in northern mythology, is
occasionally spoken of as sowing weeds among the good seed; from whence,
it has been suggested, originated the popular phrase of "sowing one's
wild oats."[5] The German peasantry have their "rye-wolf," a malignant
spirit infesting the rye-fields; and in some parts of the Continent
orchards are said to be infested by evil demons, who, until driven away
by various incantations, are liable to do much harm to the fruit. The
Italians, again, affirm that in each leaf of the fig-tree an evil spirit
dwells; and throughout the Continent there are various other demons who
are believed to haunt the crops. Evil spirits were once said to lurk in
lettuce-beds, and a certain species was regarded with ill favour by
mothers, a circumstance which, Mr. Folkard rightly suggests,[6] may
account for a Surrey saying, "O'er much lettuce in the garden will stop
a young wife's bearing." Among similar legends of the kind it is said
that, in Swabia, fern-seed brought by the devil between eleven and
twelve o'clock on Christmas night enables the bearer to do as much work
as twenty or thirty ordinary men. According to a popular piece of
superstition current in our southern counties, the devil is generally
supposed to put his cloven foot upon the blackberries on Michaelmas Day,
and hence after this date it is considered unlucky to gather them during
the remainder of the year. An interesting instance of this superstition
is given by Mrs. Latham in her "West Sussex Superstitions," which
happened to a farmer's wife residing in the neighbourhood of Arundel. It
appears that she was in the habit of making a large quantity of
blackberry jam, and finding that less fruit had been brought to her than
she required, she said to the charwoman, "I wish you would send some of
your children to gather me three or four pints more." "Ma'am," exclaimed
the woman in astonishment, "don't you know this is the 11th October?"
"Yes," she replied. "Bless me, ma'am! And you ask me to let my children
go out blackberrying! Why, I thought every one knew that the devil went
round on the 10th October, and spat on all the blackberries, and that if
any person were to eat on the 11th, he or some one belonging to him
would either die or fall into great trouble before the year was out."
In Scotland the devil is said to but throw his cloak over the
blackberries and render them unwholesome, while in Ireland he is said to
stamp on them. Among further stories of this kind may be quoted one
current in Devonshire respecting St. Dunstan, who, it is said, bought up
a quantity of barley for brewing beer. The devil, knowing how anxious
the saint would be to get a good sale for his beer, offered to blight
the apple trees, so that there should be no cider, and hence a greater
demand for beer, on condition that he sold himself to him. St. Dunstan
accepted the offer, and stipulated that the trees should be blighted on
the 17th, 18th, and 19th May. Should the apple-blossom be nipped by cold
winds or frost about this time, many allusions are still made to
St. Dunstan.
Of the plants associated personally with the evil one may be mentioned
the henbane, which is known in Germany as the "devil's eye," a name
applied to the stich-wort in Wales. A species of ground moss is also
styled in Germany the "devil's claws;" one of the orchid tribe is
"Satan's hand;" the lady's fingers is "devil's claws," and the plantain
is "devil's head." Similarly the house-leek has been designated the
"devil's beard," and a Norfolk name for the stinkhorn is "devil's horn."
Of further plants related to his Satanic majesty is the clematis, termed
"devil's thread," the toad-flax is his ribbon, the indigo his dye, while
the scandix forms his darning-needles. The tritoma, with its brilliant
red blossom, is familiar in most localities as the "devil's poker," and
the ground ivy has been nicknamed the "devil's candlestick," the
mandrake supplying his candle. The puff-balls of the lycoperdon form the
devil's snuff-box, and in Ireland the nettle is his apron, and the
convolvulus his garter; while at Iserlohn, in Germany,[7] "the mothers,
to deter their children eating the mulberries, sing to them that the
devil requires them for the purpose of blacking his boots." The _Arum
maculatum_ is "devil's ladies and gentlemen," and the _Ranunculus
arvensis_ is the "devil on both sides." The vegetable kingdom also has
been equally mindful of his majesty's food, the spurge having long been
named "devil's milk" and the briony the "devil's cherry." A species of
fungus, known with us as "witches' butter," is called in Sweden "devil's
butter," while one of the popular names for the mandrake is "devil's
food." The hare-parsley supplies him with oatmeal, and the stichwort is
termed in the West of England "devil's corn." Among further plants
associated with his Satanic majesty may be enumerated the garden fennel,
or love-in-a-mist, to which the name of "devil-in-a-bush" has been
applied, while the fruit of the deadly nightshade is commonly designated
"devil's berries." Then there is the "devil's tree," and the "devil's
dung" is one of the nicknames of the assafoetida. The hawk-weed, like
the scabious, was termed "devil's bit," because the root looks as if it
had been bitten off. According to an old legend, "the root was once
longer, until the devil bit away the rest for spite, for he needed it
not to make him sweat who is always tormented with fear of the day of
judgment." Gerarde further adds that, "The devil did bite it for envy,
because it is an herb that hath so many great virtues, and is so
beneficial to mankind." A species of ranunculus supplies his
coach-wheels, and in some parts of the country ferns are said to supply
his brushes. His majesty's wants, therefore, have been amply provided
for by the vegetable kingdom, for even the wild garlic affords him a
posy[8]. Once more, in Sweden, a rose-coloured flower, known as "Our
Lady's hand," "has two roots like hands, one white, the other black, and
when both are placed in water the black one will sink, this is called
'Satan's hand;' but the white one, called 'Mary's hand,' will float."[9]
Hence this flower is held in deep and superstitious veneration among the
peasantry; and in Crete the basil is considered an emblem of the devil,
and is placed on most window-ledges, no doubt as a charm.
Some plants, again, have been used for exorcism from their reputed
antagonism to all Satanic influence. Thus the avens or herb-bennett,
when kept in a house, was believed to render the devil powerless, and
the Greeks of old were in the habit of placing a laurel bough over their
doorways to keep away evil spirits. The thistle has been long in demand
for counteracting the powers of darkness, and in Esthonia it is placed
on the ripening corn to drive and scare away malignant demons. In
Poland, the disease known among the poorer classes as "elf-lock" is
supposed to be the work of wicked spirits, but tradition says it will
gradually disappear if one buries thistle seed.[10] The aloe, by the
Egyptians, is reputed to resist any baleful influence, and the lunary or
"honesty" is by our own country people said to put every evil influence
to flight. In Germany the juniper disperses evil spirits, and in ancient
times the black hellebore, peony, and mugwort were largely used for this
purpose. According to a Russian belief the elder-tree drives away evil
spirits, and hence this plant is held in high respect. Among further
plants possessing the same quality are the nettle and milfoil, and then
there is the famous St. John's wort, popularly nicknamed "devil's flight."
Closely allied with this part of our subject are those plants connected
with serpents, here forming a very numerous class. Indeed, it was only
natural that our ancestors, from their dread of the serpent on account
of its poisonous sting, as well as from their antipathy to it as the
symbol of evil, should ascertain those plants which seemed either
attractive, or antagonistic, to this much-dreaded reptile. Accordingly
certain plants, from being supposed to be distasteful to serpents, were
much used as amulets to drive them away. Foremost among these may be
mentioned the ash, to escape contact with which a serpent, it has been
said, would even creep into the fire, in allusion to which Cowley
thus writes:
"But that which gave more wonder than the rest,
Within an ash a serpent built her nest
And laid her eggs, when once to come beneath
The very shadow of an ash was death."
Gerarde notices this curious belief, and tells us that, "the leaves of
this tree are so great virtue against serpents that they dare not so
much as touch the morning and evening shadows of the tree, but shun them
afar off."
Hence ash-sap was a German remedy for serpent bites. Lucan, in his
"Pharsalia" (915-921), has enumerated some of the plants burned for the
purpose of expelling serpents:
"Beyond the farthest tents rich fires they build,
That healthy medicinal odours yield,
There foreign galbanum dissolving fries,
And crackling flames from humble wallwort rise.
There tamarisk, which no green leaf adorns,
And there the spicy Syrian costos burns;
There centaury supplies the wholesome flame,
That from Therssalian Chiron takes its name;
The gummy larch tree, and the thapsos there,
Woundwort and maidenweed perfume the air,
There the long branches of the long-lived hart
With southernwood their odours strong impart,
The monsters of the land, the serpents fell,
Fly far away and shun the hostile smell."
The smoke of the juniper was equally repellent to serpents, and the
juice of dittany "drives away venomous beasts, and doth astonish them."
In olden times, for serpent bites, agrimony, chamomile, and the fruit of
the bramble, were held efficacious, and Gerarde recommends the root of
the bugloss, "as it keepeth such from being stung as have drunk it
before; the leaves and seeds do the same." On the other hand, some
plants had the reputation of attracting serpents, one of these being the
moneywort or creeping loosestrife, with which they were said to heal
themselves when wounded. As far back as the time of Pliny serpents were
supposed to be very fond of fennel, restoring to them their youth by
enabling them to cast their old skins. There is a belief in Thuringia
that the possession of fern seed causes the bearer to be pursued by
serpents till thrown away; and, according to a curious Eussian proverb,
"from all old trees proceeds either an owl or a devil," in reference, no
doubt, to their often bare and sterile appearance.
Footnotes:
1. See Tylor's "Primitive Culture," ii. 316.
2. Thorpe's "Northern Mythology," iii. 193.
3. "Plant-lore Legends and Lyrics," p. 486.
4. Mr. Conway, _Fraser's Magazine_, 1870, p. 593.
5. Mr. Conway, _Fraser's Magazine_, 1870, p. 107.
6. "Plant-lore Legends and Lyrics," p. 411.
7. Folkard's "Plant-lore Legends and Lyrics," p. 448.
8. See Friend's "Flower-lore," i. 68.
9. Thorpe's "Northern Mythology," ii. 104.
10. "Mystic Trees and Flowers," Fraser's Magazine.
CHAPTER VII.
PLANTS IN FAIRY-LORE.
Many plants have gained a notoriety from their connection with
fairyland, and although the belief in this romantic source of
superstition has almost died out, yet it has left its traces in the
numerous legends which have survived amongst us. Thus the delicate white
flowers of the wood-sorrel are known in Wales as "fairy bells," from a
belief once current that these tiny beings were summoned to their
moonlight revels and gambols by these bells. In Ireland they were
supposed to ride to their scenes of merrymaking on the ragwort, hence
known as the "fairies' horse." Cabbage-stalks, too, served them for
steeds, and a story is told of a certain farmer who resided at
Dundaniel, near Cork, and was considered to be under fairy control. For
a long time he suffered from "the falling sickness," owing to the long
journeys which he was forced to make, night by night, with the fairy
folk on one of his own cabbage stumps. Sometimes the good people made
use of a straw, a blade of grass, or a fern, a further illustration of
which is furnished by "The Witch of Fife:"
"The first leet night, quhan the new moon set,
Quhan all was douffe and mirk,
We saddled our naigis wi' the moon-fern leif,
And rode fra Kilmerrin kirk.
Some horses were of the brume-cow framit,
And some of the greine bay tree;
But mine was made of ane humloke schaw,
And a stour stallion was he."[1]
In some folk-tales fairies are represented as employing nuts for their
mode of conveyance, in allusion to which Shakespeare, in "Romeo and
Juliet," makes Mercutio speak of Queen Mab's arrival in a nut-shell.
Similarly the fairies selected certain plants for their attire. Although
green seems to have been their popular colour, yet the fairies of the
moon were often clad in heath-brown or lichen-dyed garments, whence the
epithet of "Elfin-grey." Their petticoats, for instance, were composed
of the fox-glove, a flower in demand among Irish fairies for their
gloves, and in some parts of that country for their caps, where it is
nicknamed "Lusmore," while the _Cuscuta epithymum_ is known in Jersey as
"fairies' hair." Their raiment was made of the fairy flax, and the
wood-anemone, with its fragile blossoms, was supposed to afford them
shelter in wet weather. Shakespeare has represented Ariel reclining in
"a cowslip's bell," and further speaks of the small crimson drops in its
blossom as "gold coats spots"--"these be rubies, fairy favours." And at
the present day the cowslip is still known in Lincolnshire as the "fairy
cup." Its popular German name is "key-flower;" and no flower has had in
that country so extensive an association with preternatural wealth. A
well-known legend relates how "Bertha" entices some favoured child by
exquisite primroses to a doorway overgrown with flowers. This is the
door to an enchanted castle. When the key-flower touches it, the door
gently opens, and the favoured mortal passes to a room with vessels
covered over with primroses, in which are treasures of gold and jewels.
When the treasure is secured the primroses must be replaced, otherwise
the finder will be for ever followed by a "black dog."
Sometimes their mantles are made of the gossamer, the cobwebs which may
be seen in large quantities on the furze bushes; and so of King Oberon
we are told:
"A rich mantle did he wear,
Made of tinsel gossamer,
Bestarred over with a few
Diamond drops of morning dew."
Tulips are the cradles in which the fairy tribe have lulled their
offspring to rest, while the _Pyrus japonica_ serves them for a fire.[2]
Their hat is supplied by the _Peziza coccinea_; and in Lincolnshire,
writes Mr. Friend,[3] "A kind of fungus like a cup or old-fashioned
purse, with small objects inside, is called a fairy-purse." When mending
their clothes, the foxglove gives them thimbles; and many other flowers
might be added which are equally in request for their various needs. It
should be mentioned, however, that fairies, like witches, have a strange
antipathy to yellow flowers, and rarely frequent localities where they
grow.
In olden times, we read how in Scandinavia and Germany the rose was
under the special protection of dwarfs and elves, who were ruled by the
mighty King Laurin, the lord of the rose-garden:
"Four portals to the garden lead, and when the gates are
closed,
No living might dare touch a rose, 'gainst his strict command
opposed;
Whoe'er would break the golden gates, or cut the silken
thread,
Or who would dare to crush the flowers down beneath his
tread,
Soon for his pride would have to pledge a foot and hand;
Thus Laurin, king of Dwarfs, rules within his land."
We may mention here that the beautiful white or yellow flowers that grow
on the banks of lakes and rivers in Sweden are called "neck-roses,"
memorials of the Neck, a water-elf, and the poisonous root of the
water-hemlock was known as neck-root.[4]
In Brittany and in some parts of Ireland the hawthorn, or, as it is
popularly designated, the fairy-thorn, is a tree most specially in
favour. On this account it is held highly dangerous to gather even a
leaf "from certain old and solitary thorns which grow in sheltered
hollows of the moorlands," for these are the trysting-places of the
fairy race. A trace of the same superstition existed in Scotland, as may
be gathered from the subjoined extract from the "Scottish Statistical
Report" of the year 1796, in connection with New parish:--"There is a
quick thorn of a very antique appearance, for which the people have a
superstitious veneration. They have a mortal dread to lop off or cut any
part of it, and affirm with a religious horror that some persons who had
the temerity to hurt it, were afterwards severely punished for their
sacrilege."
One flower which, for some reason or other, is still held in special
honour by them, is the common stichwort of our country hedges, and which
the Devonshire peasant hesitates to pluck lest he should be pixy-led. A
similar idea formerly prevailed in the Isle of Man in connection with
the St. John's wort. If any unwary traveller happened, after sunset, to
tread on this plant, it was said that a fairy-horse would suddenly
appear, and carry him about all night. Wild thyme is another of their
favourite plants, and Mr. Folkard notes that in Sicily rosemary is
equally beloved; and that "the young fairies, under the guise of snakes,
lie concealed under its branches." According to a Netherlandish belief,
the elf-leaf, or sorceresses' plant, is particularly grateful to them,
and therefore ought not to be plucked.[5]
The four-leaved clover is a magic talisman which enables its wearer to
detect the whereabouts of fairies, and was said only to grow in their
haunts; in reference to which belief Lover thus writes:
"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!"
And according to a Danish belief, any one wandering under an elder-bush
at twelve o'clock on Midsummer Eve will see the king of fairyland pass
by with all his retinue. Fairies' haunts are mostly in picturesque spots
(such as among the tufts of wild thyme); and the oak tree, both here and
in Germany, has generally been their favourite abode, and hence the
superstitious reverence with which certain trees are held, care being
taken not to offend their mysterious inhabitants.
An immense deal of legendary lore has clustered round the so-called
fairy-rings--little circles of a brighter green in old pastures--within
which the fairies were supposed to dance by night. This curious
phenomenon, however, is owing to the outspread propagation of a
particular mushroom, the fairy-ringed fungus, by which the ground is
manured for a richer following vegetation.[6] Amongst the many other
conjectures as to the cause of these verdant circles, some have ascribed
them to lightning, and others have maintained that they are produced by
ants.[7] In the "Tempest" (v. i) Prospero invokes the fairies as the
"demi-puppets" that:
"By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make,
Whereof the ewe not bites; and you, whose pastime
Is to make midnight mushrooms."
And in the "Merry Wives of Windsor" (v. 5) Mistress Quickly says:
"And nightly, meadow-fairies, look, you sing,
Like to the Garter's compass, in a ring;
The expressure that it bears, green let it be,
More fertile-fresh than all the field to see."
Drayton, in his "Nymphidia" (1. 69-72), tells how the fairies:
"In their courses make that round,
In meadows and in marshes found,
Of them so called the fayrie ground,
Of which they have the keeping."
These fairy-rings have long been held in superstitious awe; and when in
olden times May-dew was gathered by young ladies to improve their
complexion, they carefully avoided even touching the grass within them,
for fear of displeasing these little beings, and so losing their
personal charms. At the present day, too, the peasant asserts that no
sheep nor cattle will browse on the mystic patches, a natural instinct
warning them of their peculiar nature. A few miles from Alnwick was a
fairy-ring, round which if people ran more than nine times, some evil
was supposed to befall them.
It is generally agreed that fairies were extremely fond of dancing
around oaks, and thus in addressing the monarch of the forest a poet has
exclaimed:
"The fairies, from their nightly haunt,
In copse or dell, or round the trunk revered
Of Herne's moon-silvered oak, shall chase away
Each fog, each blight, and dedicate to peace
Thy classic shade."
In Sweden the miliary fever is said by the peasantry to be caused by the
elf-mote or meeting with elves, as a remedy for which the lichen aphosus
or lichen caninus is sought.