The Folk lore of Plants - T. F. Thiselton Dyer
Again, among many of the American Indian tribes we find, according to
Mr. Dorman,[4] "a mythical tree or vine, which has a sacredness
connected with it of peculiar significance, forming a connecting-link
and medium of communication between the world of the living and the
dead. It is generally used by the spirit as a ladder to pass downward
and upward upon; the Ojibways having possessed one of these vines, the
upper end of which was twined round a star." He further adds that many
traditions are told of attempts to climb these heavenly ladders; and,
"if a young man has been much favoured with dreams, and the people
believe he has the art of looking into futurity, the path is open to the
highest honours. The future prophet puts down his dreams in pictographs,
and when he has a collection of these, if they prove true in any
respect, then this record of his revelations is appealed to as proof of
his prophetic power." But, without enumerating further instances of
these savage dream-traditions, which are closely allied with the
animistic theories of primitive culture, we would turn to those plants
which modern European folk-lore has connected with dreamland. These are
somewhat extensive, but a brief survey of some of the most important
ones will suffice to indicate their general significance.
Firstly, to dream of white flowers has been supposed to prognosticate
death; with which may be compared the popular belief that "if a white
rosebush puts forth unexpectedly, it is a sign of death to the nearest
house;" dream-omens in many cases reflecting the superstitions of daily
life. In Scotch ballads the birch is associated with the dead, an
illustration of which we find in the subjoined lines:--
"I dreamed a dreary dream last nicht;
God keep us a' frae sorrow!
I dreamed I pu'd the birk sae green,
Wi' my true love on Yarrow.
I'll redde your dream, my sister dear,
I'll tell you a' your sorrow;
You pu'd the birk wi' your true love;
He's killed,--he's killed on Yarrow."
Of the many plants which have been considered of good omen when seen in
dreams, may be mentioned the palm-tree, olive, jasmine, lily, laurel,
thistle, thorn, wormwood, currant, pear, &c.; whereas the greatest luck
attaches to the rose. On the other hand, equally numerous are the plants
which denote misfortune. Among these may be included the plum, cherry,
withered roses, walnut, hemp, cypress, dandelion, &c. Beans are still
said to produce bad dreams and to portend evil; and according to a
Leicestershire saying, "If you wish for awful dreams or desire to go
crazy, sleep in a bean-field all night." Some plants are said to
foretell long life, such as the oak, apricot, apple, box, grape, and
fig; and sickness is supposed to be presaged by such plants as the
elder, onion, acorn, and plum.
Love and marriage are, as might be expected, well represented in the
dream-flora; a circumstance, indeed, which has not failed to impress the
young at all times. Thus, foremost amongst the flowers which indicate
success in love is the rose, a fact which is not surprising when it is
remembered how largely this favourite of our gardens enters into
love-divinations. Then there is the clover, to dream of which foretells
not only a happy marriage, but one productive of wealth and prosperity.
In this case, too, it must be remembered the clover has long been
reckoned as a mystic plant, having in most European countries been much
employed for the purposes of divination. Of further plants credited as
auguring well for love affairs are the raspberry, pomegranate, cucumber,
currant, and box; but the walnut implies unfaithfulness, and the act of
cutting parsley is an omen that the person so occupied will sooner or
later be crossed in love. This ill-luck attached to parsley is in some
measure explained from the fact that in many respects it is an unlucky
plant. It is a belief, as we have noticed elsewhere, widely spread in
Devonshire, that to transplant parsley is to commit a serious offence
against the guardian genius who presides over parsley-beds, certain to
be punished either on the offender himself or some member of his family
within the course of the year. Once more "to dream of cutting cabbage,"
writes Mr. Folkard,[5] "Denotes jealousy on the part of wife, husband,
or lover, as the case may be. To dream of any one else cutting them
portends an attempt by some person to create jealousy in the loved one's
mind. To dream of eating cabbages implies sickness to loved ones and
loss of money." The bramble, an important plant in folk-lore, is partly
unlucky, and, "To dream of passing through places covered with brambles
portends troubles; if they prick you, secret enemies will do you an
injury with your friends; if they draw blood, expect heavy losses in
trade." But to dream of passing through brambles unhurt denotes a
triumph over enemies. To dream of being pricked with briars, says the
"Royal Dream Book,"[6] "shows that the person dreaming has an ardent
desire to something, and that young folks dreaming thus are in love, who
prick themselves in striving to gather their rose."
Some plants are said to denote riches, such as the oak, marigold, pear
and nut tree, while the gathering of nuts is said to presage the
discovery of unexpected wealth. Again, to dream of fruit or flowers out
of season is a bad omen, a notion, indeed, with which we find various
proverbs current throughout the country. Thus, the Northamptonshire
peasant considers the blooming of the apple-tree after the fruit is ripe
as a certain omen of death--a belief embodied in the following
proverb:
"A bloom upon the apple-tree when the apples are ripe,
Is a sure termination to somebody's life."
And once more, according to an old Sussex adage--
"Fruit out of season
Sounds out of reason."
On the other hand, to dream of fruit or any sort of crop during its
proper season is still an indication of good luck.[7] Thus it is lucky
to dream of daisies in spring-time or summer, but just the reverse in
autumn or winter. Without enumerating further instances of this kind, we
may quote the subjoined rhyme relating to the onion, as a specimen of
many similar ones scattered here and there in various countries:[8]
"To dream of eating onions means
Much strife in thy domestic scenes,
Secrets found out or else betrayed,
And many falsehoods made and said."
Many plants in dream-lore have more than one meaning attached to them.
Thus from the, "Royal Dream Book" we learn that yellow flowers "predict
love mixed with jealousy, and that you will have more children to
maintain than what justly belong to you." To dream of garlic indicates
the discovery of hidden treasures, but the approach of some domestic
quarrel.
Cherries, again, indicate inconstancy; but one would scarcely expect to
find the thistle regarded as lucky; for, according to an old piece of
folk-lore, to dream of being surrounded by this plant is a propitious
sign, foretelling that the person will before long have some pleasing
intelligence. In the same way a similar meaning in dream-lore attaches
to the thorn.
According to old dream-books, the dreaming of yew indicates the death of
an aged person, who will leave considerable wealth behind him; while the
violet is said to devote advancement in life. Similarly, too, the vine
foretells prosperity, "for which," says a dream interpreter, "we have
the example of Astyages, king of the Medes, who dreamed that his
daughter brought forth a vine, which was a prognostic of the grandeur,
riches, and felicity of the great Cyrus, who was born of her after this
dream."
Plucking ears of corn signifies the existence of secret enemies, and Mr.
Folkard quotes an old authority which tells us that the juniper is
potent in dreams. Thus, "it is unlucky to dream of the tree itself,
especially if the person be sick; but to dream of gathering the berries,
if it be in winter, denotes prosperity. To dream of the actual berries
signifies that the dreamer will shortly arrive at great honours and
become an important person. To the married it foretells the birth of a
male child."
Again, eating almonds signifies a journey, its success or otherwise
being denoted by their tasting sweet or the contrary. Dreaming of grass
is an auspicious omen, provided it be green and fresh; but if it be
withered and decayed, it is a sign of the approach of misfortune and
sickness, followed perhaps by death. Woe betide, too, the person who
dreams that he is cutting grass.
Certain plants produce dreams on particular occasions. The mugwort and
plantain have long been associated with Midsummer; and, according to
Thomas Hill in his "Natural and Artificial Conclusions," a rare coal is
to be found under these plants but one hour in the day, and one day in
the year. When Aubrey happened to be walking behind Montague House at
twelve o'clock on Midsummer day, he relates how he saw about twenty-two
young women, most of them well dressed, and apparently all very busy
weeding. On making inquiries, he was informed that they were looking for
a coal under the root of a plantain, to put beneath their heads that
night, when they would not fail to dream of their future husbands. But,
unfortunately for this credulity, as an old author long ago pointed out,
the coal is nothing but an old dead root, and that it may be found
almost any day and hour when sought for. By lovers the holly has long
been supposed to have mystic virtues as a dream-plant when used on the
eve of any of the following festivals:
Christmas,
New Year's Day,
Midsummer, and
All Hallowe'en.
According to the mode of procedure practised in the northern counties,
the anxious maiden, before retiring to rest, places three pails full of
water in her bedroom, and then pins to her night-dress three leaves of
green holly opposite to her heart, after which she goes to sleep.
Believing in the efficacy of the charm, she persuades herself that she
will be roused from her first slumber by three yells, as if from the
throats of three bears, succeeded by as many hoarse laughs. When these
have died away, the form of her future husband will appear, who will
show his attachment to her by changing the position of the water-pails,
whereas if he have no particular affection he will disappear without
even touching them.
Then, of course, from time immemorial all kinds of charms have been
observed on St. Valentine's Day to produce prophetic dreams. A popular
charm consisted of placing two bay leaves, after sprinkling them with
rose-water, across the pillow, repeating this formula:--
"Good Valentine, be kind to me,
In dream let me my true love see."
St. Luke's Day was in years gone by a season for love-divination, and
among some of the many directions given we may quote the subjoined,
which is somewhat elaborate:--
"Take marigold flowers, a sprig of
marjoram, thyme, and a little wormwood; dry them before a fire, rub them
to powder, then sift it through a fine piece of lawn; simmer these with
a small quantity of virgin honey, in white vinegar, over a slow fire;
with this anoint your stomach, breasts, and lips, lying down, and repeat
these words thrice:--
'St Luke, St. Luke, be kind to me,
In dream let me my true love see!'
This said, hasten to sleep, and in the soft slumbers of night's repose,
the very man whom you shall marry shall appear before you."
Lastly, certain plants have been largely used by gipsies and
fortune-tellers for invoking dreams, and in many a country village these
are plucked and given to the anxious inquirer with various formulas.
Footnotes:
1. "Primitive Culture," 1873, ii. 416, 417.
2. See Dorman's "Primitive Superstition," p. 68.
3. Thorpe's "Northern Mythology," 1851, ii. 108.
4. "Primitive Superstitions," p. 67.
5. "Plant-lore Legends and Lyrics," p. 265.
6. Quoted in Brand's "Popular Antiquities," 1849, iii. 135.
7. See Friend's "Flower-Lore," i. 207.
8. Folkard's "Plant-lore Legends and Lyrics," p. 477.
CHAPTER X.
PLANTS AND THE WEATHER.
The influence of the weather on plants is an agricultural belief which
is firmly credited by the modern husbandman. In many instances his
meteorological notions are the result of observation, although in some
cases the reason assigned for certain pieces of weather-lore is far from
obvious. Incidental allusion has already been made to the astrological
doctrine of the influence of the moon's changes on plants--a belief
which still retains its hold in most agricultural districts. It appears
that in years gone by "neither sowing, planting, nor grafting was ever
undertaken without a scrupulous attention to the increase or waning of
the moon;"[1] and the advice given by Tusser in his "Five Hundred Points
of Husbandry" is not forgotten even at the present day:--
"Sow peas and beans in the wane of the moon,
Who soweth them sooner, he soweth too soon,
That they with the planet may rest and rise,
And flourish with bearing, most plentiful-wise."
Many of the old gardening books give the same advice, although by some
it has been severely ridiculed.
Scott, in his "Discoverie of Witchcraft," notes how, "the poor
husbandman perceiveth that the increase of the moon maketh plants
fruitful, so as in the full moone they are in best strength, decaying in
the wane, and in the conjunction do entirely wither and fade."
Similarly the growth of mushrooms is said to be affected by the weather,
and in Devonshire apples "shrump up" if picked during a waning moon.[2]
One reason, perhaps, for the attention so universally paid to the moon's
changes in agricultural pursuits is, writes Mr. Farrer, "that they are
far more remarkable than any of the sun's, and more calculated to
inspire dread by the nocturnal darkness they contend with, and hence are
held in popular fancy nearly everywhere, to cause, portend, or accord
with changes in the lot of mortals, and all things terrestrial."[3]
On this assumption may be explained the idea that the, "moon's wane
makes things on earth to wane; when it is new or full it is everywhere
the proper season for new crops to be sown." In the Hervey Islands
cocoa-nuts are generally planted in the full of the moon, the size of
the latter being regarded as symbolical of the ultimate fulness of the
fruit.
In the same way the weather of certain seasons of the year is supposed
to influence the vegetable world, and in Rutlandshire we are told that
"a green Christmas brings a heavy harvest;" but a full moon about
Christmas Day is unlucky, hence the adage:
"Light Christmas, light wheatsheaf,
Dark Christmas, heavy wheatsheaf."
If the weather be clear on Candlemas Day "corn and fruits will then be
dear," and "whoever doth plant or sow on Shrove Tuesday, it will always
remain green." According to a piece of weather-lore in Sweden, there is
a saying that to strew ash branches in a field on Ash Wednesday is
equivalent to three days' rain and three days' sun. Rain on Easter Day
foretells a good harvest but poor hay crop, while thunder on All Fool's
Day "brings good crops of corn and hay." According to the "Shepherd's
Calendar," if, "Midsummer Day be never so little rainy the hazel and
walnut will be scarce; corn smitten in many places; but apples, pears,
and plums will not be hurt." And we are further reminded:--
"Till St. James's Day be come and gone,
There may be hops or there may be none."
Speaking of hops, it is said, "plenty of ladybirds, plenty of hops."
It is also a popular notion among our peasantry that if a drop of rain
hang on an oat at this season there will be a good crop. Another
agricultural adage says:--
"No tempest, good July, lest corn come off bluely."
Then there is the old Michaelmas rhyme:--
"At Michaelmas time, or a little before,
Half an apple goes to the core;
At Christmas time, or a little after,
A crab in the hedge, and thanks to the grafter."
On the other hand, the blossoming of plants at certain times is said to
be an indication of the coming weather, and so when the bramble blooms
early in June an early harvest may be expected; and in the northern
counties the peasant judges of the advance of the year by the appearance
of the daisy, affirming that "spring has not arrived till you can set
your foot on twelve daisies." We are also told that when many hawthorn
blossoms are seen a severe winter will follow; and, according to
Wilsford, "the broom having plenty of blossoms is a sign of a fruitful
year of corn." A Surrey proverb tells us that "It's always cold when the
blackthorn comes into flower;" and there is the rhyme which reminds
us that:--
"If the oak is out before the ash,
'Twill be a summer of wet and splash;
But if the ash is before the oak,
'Twill be a summer of fire and smoke."
There are several versions of this piece of weather-lore, an old Kentish
one being "Oak, smoke; ash, quash;" and according to a version given in
Notes and Queries (1st Series v. 71):--
"If the oak's before the ash, then you'll only get a splash,
If the ash precedes the oak, then you may expect a soak."
From the "Shepherd's Calendar" we learn that, "If in the fall of the
leaf in October many leaves wither on the boughs and hang there, it
betokens a frosty winter and much snow," with which may be compared a
Devonshire saying:--
"If good apples you would have
The leaves must go into the grave."
Or, in other words, "you must plant your trees in the fall of the leaf."
And again, "Apples, pears, hawthorn-quick, oak; set them at
All-hallow-tide and command them to prosper; set them at Candlemas and
entreat them to grow."
In Germany,[4] too, there is a rhyme which may be thus translated:--
"When the hawthorn bloom too early shows,
We shall have still many snows."
In the same way the fruit of trees and plants was regarded as a
prognostication of the ensuing weather, and Wilsford tells us that
"great store of walnuts and almonds presage a plentiful year of corn,
especially filberts." The notion that an abundance of haws betokens a
hard winter is still much credited, and has given rise to the familiar
Scotch proverb:--
"Mony haws,
Mony snaws."
Another variation of the same adage in Kent is, "A plum year, a dumb
year," and, "Many nits, many pits," implying that the abundance of nuts
in the autumn indicates the "pits" or graves of those who shall succumb
to the hard and inclement weather of winter; but, on the other hand, "A
cherry year, a merry year." A further piece of weather-lore tells us:--
"Many rains, many rowans;
Many rowans, many yawns,"
The meaning being that an abundance of rowans--the fruit of the
mountain-ash--denote a deficient harvest.
Among further sayings of this kind may be noticed one relating to the
onion, which is thus:--
"Onion's skin very thin,
Mild-winter's coming in;
Onion's skin thick and tough,
Coming winter cold and rough."
Again, many of our peasantry have long been accustomed to arrange their
farming pursuits from the indications given them by sundry trees and
plants. Thus it is said--
"When the sloe tree is as white as a sheet,
Sow your barley whether it be dry or wet."
With which may be compared another piece of weather-lore:--
"When the oak puts on his gosling grey,
'Tis time to sow barley night or day."
The leafing of the elm has from time immemorial been made to regulate
agricultural operations, and hence the old rule:--
"When the elmen leaf is as big as a mouse's ear,
Then to sow barley never fear.
When the elmen leaf is as big as an ox's eye,
Then say I, 'Hie, boys, hie!'"
A Warwickshire variation is:--
"When elm leaves are big as a shilling,
Plant kidney beans, if to plant 'em you're willing.
When elm leaves are as big as a penny,
You _must_ plant kidney beans if you mean to have any."
But if the grass grow in January, the husbandman is recommended to "lock
his grain in the granary," while a further proverb informs us that:--
"On Candlemas Day if the thorns hang a drop,
You are sure of a good pea crop."
In bygone times the appearance of the berries of the elder was held to
indicate the proper season for sowing wheat:--
"With purple fruit when elder branches bend,
And their high hues the hips and cornels lend,
Ere yet chill hoar-frost comes, or sleety rain,
Sow with choice wheat the neatly furrowed plain."
The elder is not without its teaching, and according to a popular old
proverb:--
"When the elder is white, brew and bake a peck,
When the elder is black, brew and bake a sack."
According to an old proverb, "You must look for grass on the top of the
oak tree," the meaning being, says Ray, that "the grass seldom springs
well before the oak begins to put forth."
In the Western Counties it is asserted that frost ceases as soon as the
mulberry tree bursts into leaf, with which may be compared the words of
Autolycus in the "Winter's Tale" (iv. 3):--
"When daffodils begin to peer,
With heigh! the doxy over the dale,
Why, then conies in the sweet o' the year."
The dairyman is recommended in autumn to notice the appearance of the
fern, because:--
"When the fern is as high as a ladle,
You may sleep as long as you are able.
When the fern begins to look red,
Then milk is good with brown bread."
Formerly certain agricultural operations were regulated by the seasons,
and an old rule tells the farmer--
"Upon St. David's Day, put oats and barley in the clay."
Another version being:--
"Sow peas and beans on David and Chad,
Be the weather good or bad."
A Somersetshire piece of agricultural lore fixes an earlier date, and
bids the farmer to "sow or set beans in Candlemas waddle." In connection
with the inclement weather that often prevails throughout the spring
months it is commonly said, "They that go to their corn in May may come
weeping away," but "They that go in June may come back with a merry
tune." Then there is the following familiar pretty couplet, of which
there are several versions:--
"The bee doth love the sweetest flower,
So doth the blossom the April shower."
In connection with beans, there is a well-known adage
which says:--
"Be it weal or be it woe,
Beans should blow before May go."
Of the numerous other items of plant weather-lore, it is said that
"March wind wakes the ether (_i. e_., adder) and blooms the whin;" and
many of our peasantry maintain that:--
"A peck of March dust and a shower in May,
Makes the corn green and the fields gay."
It should also be noted that many plants are considered good barometers.
Chickweed, for instance, expands its leaves fully when fine weather is
to follow; but "if it should shut up, then the traveller is to put on
his greatcoat."[5] The same, too, is said to be the case with the
pimpernel, convolvulus, and clover; while if the marigold does not open
its petals by seven o'clock in the morning, either rain or thunder may
be expected in the course of the day. According to Wilsford, "tezils, or
fuller's thistle, being gathered and hanged up in the house, where the
air may come freely to it, upon the alteration of cold and windy weather
will grow smoother, and against rain will close up its prickles." Once
more, according to the "Shepherd's Calendar," "Chaff, leaves,
thistle-down, or such light things whisking about and turning round
foreshows tempestuous winds;" And Coles, in his introduction to the
"Knowledge of Plants," informs us that, "If the down flieth off
colt's-foot, dandelion, and thistles when there is no wind, it is a sign
of rain."
Some plants, again, have gained a notoriety from opening or shutting
their flowers at the sun's bidding; in allusion to which Perdita remarks
in the "Winter's Tale" (iv. 3):--
"The marigold, that goes to bed with the sun, and with him
rises weeping."
It was also erroneously said, like the sun-flower, to
turn its blossoms to the sun, the latter being thus
described by Thomson:--
"The lofty follower of the sun,
Sad when he sets, shuts up her yellow leaves,
Drooping all night, and, when he warm returns,
Points her enamour'd bosom to his ray."
Another plant of this kind is the endive, which is said to open its
petals at eight o'clock in the morning, and to close them at four in the
afternoon. Thus we are told how:--
"On upland slopes the shepherds mark
The hour when, to the dial true,
Cichorium to the towering lark,
Lifts her soft eye, serenely blue."
And as another floral index of the time of day may be noticed the
goat's-beard, opening at sunrise and closing at noon--hence one of its
popular names of "Go to bed at noon." This peculiarity is described by
Bishop Mant:--
"And goodly now the noon-tide hour,
When from his high meridian tower
The sun looks down in majesty,
What time about, the grassy lea.
The goat's-beard, prompt his rise to hail,
With broad expanded disk, in veil
Close mantling wraps its yellow head,
And goes, as peasants say, to bed."
The dandelion has been nicknamed the peasant's clock, its flowers
opening very early in the morning; while its feathery seed-tufts have
long been in requisition as a barometer with children:--