At the commencement of the present chapter on extraordinary and

miraculous plants, allusion was made to certain trees which were

reputed to have borne as fruit human heads. A fitting conclusion to

this list of wonders would appear to be an account of a wondrous ear of

Straw, which, in the year 1606, was stated miraculously to have borne

in effigy the head of Father Garnet, who was executed for complicity in

the Gunpowder Plot. It would seem that, after the execution of Garnet

and his companion Oldcorne, tales of miracles performed in vindication

of their innocence, and in honour of their martyrdom, were circulated

by the Jesuits. But the miracle most insisted upon as a supernatural

confirmation of the Jesuit’s innocence and martyrdom, was the story of

Father Garnet’s Straw. The originator of this miracle was supposed to

be one John Wilkinson, a young Catholic, who, at the time of Garnet’s

trial and execution, was about to pass over into France, to commence

his studies at the Jesuits’ college at St. Omers. Some time after

his arrival there, Wilkinson was attacked by a dangerous disease,

from which there was no hope of recovery; and while in this state he

gave utterance to the story, which Eudæmon-Joannes relates in his own

words. Having described his strong impression that he should “witness

some immediate testimony from God in favour of the innocence of His

saint,” his attendance at the execution, and its details, he proceeds

thus:--“Garnet’s limbs having been divided into four parts, and placed

together with the head in a basket, in order that they might be

exhibited according to law in some conspicuous place, the crowd began

to disperse. I then again approached close to the scaffold, and stood

between the cart and the place of execution; and as I lingered in that

situation, still burning with the desire of bearing away some relique,

that miraculous ear of Straw, since so highly celebrated, came, I know

not how, into my hand. A considerable quantity of dry Straw had

been thrown with Garnet’s head and quarters from the scaffold into the

basket; but whether this ear came into my hand from the scaffold or

from the basket, I cannot venture to affirm: this only I can truly say,

that a Straw of this kind was thrown towards me before it had touched

the ground. This Straw I afterwards delivered to Mrs. N., a matron

of singular Catholic piety, who inclosed it in a bottle, which being

rather shorter than the Straw, it became slightly bent. A few days

afterwards, Mrs. N. showed the Straw in the bottle to a certain noble

person, her intimate acquaintance, who, looking at it attentively, at

length said, ‘I can see nothing in it but a man’s face.’ At this, Mrs.

N. and I, being astonished at the unexpected exclamation, again and

again examined the ear of Straw, and distinctly perceived in it a human

countenance, which others, also coming in as casual spectators, or

expressly called by us as witnesses, also beheld at that time. This is,

as God knoweth, the true history of Father Garnet’s Straw.”

[Illustration: TO FACE PAGE 135.]

Father Garnet’s Straw.

_From the ‘Apology of Eudæmon-Joannes.’_]

In process of time, the fame of the prodigy encouraged those who had

an interest in upholding it to add considerably to the miracle as it

was at first promulgated. Wilkinson and the first observers of the

marvel merely represented that the appearance of a face was shown on

so diminutive a scale, upon the husk or sheath of a single grain, as

scarcely to be visible unless specifically pointed out. Fig. 1 in the

accompanying plate accurately depicts the miracle as it was at first

displayed.

But a much more imposing image was afterwards discovered. Two faces

appeared upon the middle part of the Straw, both surrounded with rays

of glory; the head of the principal figure, which represented Garnet,

was encircled with a martyr’s crown, and the face of a cherub appeared

in the midst of his beard. In this improved state of the miracle, the

story was circulated in England, and excited the most profound and

universal attention; and thus depicted, the miraculous Straw became

generally known throughout the Christian world. Fig. 2 in the sketch

exactly represents the prodigy in its improved state: it is taken from

the frontispiece to the ‘Apology of Eudæmon-Joannes.’

So great was the scandal occasioned by this story of Father Garnet’s

miraculous Straw, that Archbishop Bancroft was commissioned by the

Privy Council to institute an inquiry, and, if possible, to detect

and punish the perpetration of what he considered a gross imposture;

but although a great many persons were examined, no distinct evidence

of imposition could be obtained. It was proved, however, that the

face might have been limned on the Straw by Wilkinson, or under his

direction, during the interval which occurred between the time of

Garnet’s death and the discovery of the miraculous head. At all events,

the inquiry had the desired effect of staying public curiosity in

England; and upon this the Privy Council took no further proceedings

against any of the parties.

[Headpiece]

CHAPTER XII.

Plants Connected with Birds and Animals.

The association of trees and birds has been the theme of the most

ancient writers. The Skalds have sung how an Eagle sat in stately

majesty on the topmost branch of Yggdrasill, whilst the keen-eyed Hawk

hovered around. The Vedas record how the Pippala of the Hindu Paradise

was daily visited by two beauteous birds, one of which fed from its

celestial food, whilst its companion poured forth delicious melody

from its reed-like throat. On the summit of the mystic Soma-tree were

perched two birds, the one engaged in expressing the immortalising

Soma-juice, the other feeding on the Figs which hung from the branches

of the sacred tree. A bird, bearing in its beak a twig plucked from its

favourite tree, admonished the patriarch Noah that the waters of the

flood were subsiding from the deluged world.

In olden times there appears to have been a notion that in some

cases plants could not be germinated excepting through the direct

intervention of birds. Thus Bacon tells us of a tradition, current in

his day, that a bird, called a Missel-bird, fed upon a seed which,

being unable to digest, she evacuated whole; and that this seed,

falling upon boughs of trees, put forth the Mistletoe. A similar story

is told by Tavernier of the Nutmeg. “It is observable,” he says, “that

the Nutmeg-tree is never planted: this has been attested to me by

several persons who have resided many years in the islands of Bonda. I

have been assured that when the nuts are ripe, there come certain birds

from the islands that lie towards the South, who swallow them down

whole, and evacuate them whole likewise, without ever having digested

them. These nuts being then covered with a viscous and glutinous

matter, when they fall on the ground, take root, vegetate, and produce

a tree, which would not grow from them if they were planted like other

trees.”

The Druids, dwelling as they did in groves and forests, frequented by

birds and animals, were adepts at interpreting the meaning of their

actions and sounds. A knowledge of the language of the bird and animal

kingdoms was deemed by them a marvellous gift, which was only to be

imparted to the priestess who should be fortunate enough to tread under

foot the mystic _Selago_, or Golden Herb.

At a time when men had no almanack to warn them of the changing of the

seasons, no calendar to guide them in the planting of their fields and

gardens, the arrival and departure of birds helped to direct them in

the cultivation of plants. So we find Ecclesiastes preached “a bird of

the air shall carry the voice,” and in modern times the popular saying

arose of “a little bird has told me.”

This notion of the birds imparting knowledge is prettily rendered

by Hans Christian Andersen, in his story of the Fir-tree, where the

sapling wonders what is done with the trees taken out of the wood at

Christmas time. “Ah, we know--we know,” twittered the Sparrows; “for we

have looked in at the windows in yonder town.”

Dr. Solander tells us that the peasants of Upland remark that “When you

see the Wheatear you may sow your grain,” for in this country there is

seldom any severe frost after the Wheatear appears; and the shepherds

of Salisbury Plain say:--

“When Dotterel do first appear,

It shows that frost is very near;

But when the Dotterel do go,

Then you may look for heavy snow.”

Aristophanes makes one of his characters say that in former times the

Kite ruled the Greeks; his meaning being that in ancient days the

Kite was looked upon as the sign of Spring and of the necessity of

commencing active work in field and garden; and again, “The Crow points

out the time for sowing when she flies croaking to Libya.” In another

place he notices that the Cuckoo in like manner governed Phœnicia and

Egypt, because when it cried _Kokku, Kokku_, it was considered time to

reap the Wheat and Barley fields.

In our own country, this welcome harbinger of the Springtide has

been associated with a number of vernal plants: we have the Cuckoo

Flower (_Lychnis Flos cuculi_), Cuckoo’s Bread or Meat, and Cuckoo’s

Sorrel (_Oxalis Acetosella_), Cuckoo Grass (_Lazula campestris_),

and Shakspeare’s “Cuckoo Buds of yellow hue,” which are thought to

be the buds of the Crowfoot (_Ranunculus_). The association in the

popular rhyme of the Cuckoo with the Cherry-tree is explained by an

old superstition that before it ceases its song, the Cuckoo must eat

three good meals of Cherries. In Sussex, the Whitethorn is called the

Cuckoo’s Bread-and-Cheese Tree, and an old proverb runs--

“When the Cuckoo comes to the bare Thorn,

Then sell your Cow and buy your Corn.”

Mr. Parish has remarked that it is singular this name should be given

to the Whitethorn, as among all Aryan nations the tree is associated

with lightning, and the Cuckoo is connected with the lightning gods

Jupiter and Thor.

Pliny relates that the Halcyon, or Kingfisher, at breeding-time,

foretold calm and settled weather. The belief in the wisdom of birds

obtained such an ascendancy over men’s minds, that we find at length

no affair of moment was entered upon without consulting them. Thus

came in augury, by which was meant a forewarning of future events

derived from prophetic birds. One of these systems of divinations, for

the purpose of discovering some secret or future event was effected

by means of a Cock and grains of Barley, in the following manner: the

twenty-four letters of the alphabet having been written in the dust,

upon each letter was laid a grain of Barley, and a Cock, over which

previous incantations had been uttered, was let loose among them; those

letters off which it pecked the Barley, being joined together, were

then believed to declare the word of which they were in search. The

magician Jamblichus, desirous to find out who should succeed Valens in

the imperial purple, made use of this divination, but the Cock only

picked up four grains, viz., those which lay upon the (Greek) letters

th. e. o. d., so that it was uncertain whether Theodosius, Theodotus,

Theodorus, or Theodectes, was the person designed by the Fates. Valens,

when informed of the matter, was so terribly enraged, that he put

several persons to death simply because their names began with these

letters. When, however, he proceeded to make search after the magicians

themselves, Jamblichus put an end to his majesty’s life by a dose of

poison, and he was succeeded by Theodosius in the empire of the East.

The loves of the Nightingale and the Rose have formed a favourite topic

of Eastern poets. In a fragment by the celebrated Persian poet Attar,

entitled _Bulbul Nameh_ (the Book of the Nightingale), all the birds

appear before Solomon, and charge the Nightingale with disturbing

their rest by the broken and plaintive strains which he warbles forth

in a sort of frenzy and intoxication. The Nightingale is summoned,

questioned, and acquitted by the wise king, because the bird assures

him that his vehement love for the Rose drives him to distraction,

and causes him to break forth into those languishing and touching

complaints which are laid to his charge. Thus the Persians believe that

the Nightingale in Spring flutters around the Rose-bushes, uttering

incessant complaints, till, overpowered by the strong scent, he drops

stupefied to the ground. The impassioned bird makes his appearance in

Eastern climes at the season when the Rose begins to blow: hence the

legend that the beauteous flower bursts forth from its bud at the song

of its ravished adorer. The Persian poet Jami says, “The Nightingales

warbled their enchanting notes and rent the thin veils of the Rose-bud

and the Rose;” and Moore has sung--

“Oh sooner shall the Rose of May

Mistake her own sweet Nightingale,

And to some meaner minstrel’s lay

Open her bosom’s glowing veil,

Than love shall ever doubt a tone--

A breath--of the beloved one!”

And in another place, the author of ‘Lalla Rookh’ asks--

“Though rich the spot

With every flower the earth hath got,

What is it to the Nightingale,

If there his darling Rose is not?”

Lord Byron has alluded to this pretty conceit in the ‘Giaour,’ when he

sings--

“The Rose o’er crag or vale,

Sultana of the Nightingale,

The maid for whom his melody,

His thousand songs are heard on high,

Blooms blushing to her lover’s tale,

His queen, the garden queen, his Rose,

Unbent by winds, unchill’d by snows.”

From the verses of the poet Jami may be learnt how the first Rose

appeared in Gulistan at the time when the flowers, dissatisfied with

the reign of the torpid Lotus, who would slumber at night, demanded a

new sovereign from Allah. At first the Rose queen was snowy white, and

guarded by a protecting circlet of Thorns; but the amorous Nightingale

fell into such a transport of love over her charms, and so recklessly

pressed his ravished heart against the cruel Thorns, that his blood

trickling into the lovely blossom’s bosom, dyed it crimson; and, in

corroboration of this, the poet demands, “Are not the petals white at

the extremity where the poor little bird’s blood could not reach?”

Perhaps this Eastern poetic legend may have given rise to the belief,

which has long been entertained, that the Nightingale usually sleeps

on, or with its bosom against, a Thorn, under the impression that in

such a painful situation it must remain awake. Young, in his ‘Night

Thoughts,’ thus refers to this curious idea--

“Grief’s sharpest Thorn hard-pressing on my breast,

I share with wakeful melody to cheer

The sullen gloom, sweet Philomel! like thee,

And call the stars to listen.”

And in Thomson’s ‘Hymn to May,’ we find this allusion:--

“The lowly Nightingale,

A Thorn her pillow, trills her doleful tale.”

In a sonnet by Sir Philip Sydney, afterwards set to music by Bateson,

we read--

“The Nightingale, as soon as April bringeth

Unto her rested sense a perfect waking,

When late bare earth, proud of new clothing, springeth,

Sings out her woes, a Thorn her song-book making,

And mournfully bewailing,

Her throat in tunes expresseth,

While grief her heart oppresseth,

For Tereus o’er her chaste will prevailing.”

Shakspeare notices the story in the following quaint lines--

“Everything did banish moan,

Save the Nightingale alone;

She, poor bird, as all forlorn,

Leaned her breast up till a Thorn,

And then sung the doleful ditty,

That to hear it was great pity.”

In Yorkshire, there is a tradition of Hops having been planted many

years ago, near Doncaster, and of the Nightingale making its first

appearance there about the same time. The popular idea was, that

between the bird and the plant some mysterious connecting link existed.

Be this as it may, both the Hops and the Nightingale disappeared long

ago.

It is not alone the Nightingale that has a legendary connection with

a Thorn. Another favourite denizen of our groves may also lay claim

to this distinction, inasmuch as, according to a tradition current in

Brittany, its red breast was originally produced by the laceration of

an historic Thorn. In this story it is said that, whilst our Saviour

was bearing His cross on the way to Calvary, a little bird, struck with

compassion at His sufferings, flew suddenly to Him, and plucked from

His bleeding brow one of the cruel thorns of His mocking crown, steeped

in His blood. In bearing it away in its beak, drops of the Divine blood

fell upon the little bird’s breast, and dyed its plumage red; so that

ever since the Red-breast has been treated as the friend of man, and is

studiously protected by him from harm.

Whether or no this legend of the origin of our little friend’s red

breast formerly influenced mankind in its favour, it is certain that

the Robin has always been regarded with tenderness. Popular tradition,

even earlier than the date of the story of the Children in the Wood,

has made him our sexton with the aid of plants:--

“No burial this pretty pair

Of any man receives,

Till Robin Redbreast, painfully,

Did cover them with leaves.”

It is noted in Gray’s Shakspeare that, according to the oldest

traditions, if the Robin finds the dead body of a human being, he will

cover the face at least with Moss and leaves.

“Cov’ring with Moss the dead’s unclosed eye

The little Redbreast teacheth charitie.”--_Drayton’s ‘Owl.’_

The Wren is also credited with employing plants for acts of similar

charity. In Reed’s old plays, we read--

“Call for the Robin Redbreast and the Wren,

Since o’er shady groves they hover,

And with leaves and flow’rs do cover

The friendless bodies of unburied men.”

A writer in one of our popular periodicals[15] gives another quaint

quotation expressive of the tradition, from Stafford’s ‘Niobe dissolved

into a Nilus’: “On her (the Nightingale) smiles Robin in his redde

livvrie; who sits as a coroner on the murthred man; and seeing his body

naked, plays the sorrie tailour to make him a Mossy rayment.”

[15] ‘All the Year Round,’ Vol. xiii.

The Missel or Missel-Thrush is sometimes called the Mistletoe-Thrush,

because it feeds upon Mistletoe berries. Lord Bacon, in _Sylva

Sylvarum_, refers (as already noted) to an old belief that the seeds of

Mistletoe will not vegetate unless they have passed through the stomach

of this bird.

The Peony is said to cure epilepsy, if certain ceremonies are duly

observed. A patient, however, must on no account taste the root, if a

Woodpecker should happen to be in sight, or he will be certain to be

stricken with blindness.

Among the many magical properties ascribed to the _Spreng-wurzel_

(Spring-wort), or, as it is sometime called, the Blasting-root, is

its power to reveal treasures. But this it can only do through the

instrumentality of a bird, which is usually a green or black Woodpecker

(according to Pliny, also the Raven; in Switzerland, the Hoopoe; in

the Tyrol, the Swallow). In order to become possessed of a root of

this magical plant, arrangements must be made with much care and

circumspection, and the bird closely watched. When the old bird has

temporarily left its nest, access to it must be stopped up by plugging

the hole with wood. The bird, finding this, will fly away in search

of the Spring-wort, and returning, will open the nest by touching the

obstruction with the mystic root. Meanwhile a fire or a red cloth must

be spread out closely, which will so startle the bird, that it will let

the root fall from its bills, and it can thus be secured. Pliny relates

of the Woodpecker, that the hen bird brings up her young in holes, and

if the entrance be plugged up, no matter how securely, the old bird

is able to force out the plug with an explosion caused by the plant.

Aubrey confounds the Moonwort with the Springwort. He says:--“Sir Benet

Hoskins, Baronet, told me that his keeper at his parke at Morehampton,

in Herefordshire, did, for experiment’s sake, drive an iron naile

thwert the hole of the Woodpecker’s nest, there being a tradition that

the damme will bring some leafe to open it. He layed at the bottome

of the tree a cleane sheet, and before many hours passed, the naile

came out, and he found a leafe lying by it on the sheete. They say the

Moonewort will doe such things.”

Tradition tells us of a certain magical herb called _Chora_, which

was also known as the _Herba Meropis_, or plant of the Merops, a bird

which the Germans were familiar with under the name of _Bömhechel_ or

_Baumhacker_ (Woodpecker). This bird builds its nest in high trees, but

should anyone cover the young brood with something which prevents the

parent bird from visiting the nest, it flies off in search of a herb.

This is brought in the Merops’ beak, and held over the obstacle till it

falls off or gives way.

In Swabia, the Springwort is regarded as a plant embodying electricity

or lightning; but the Hoopoe takes the place of the Woodpecker in

employing the herb for blasting and removing offensive obstacles. The

Swabians, however, instead of a red cloth, place a pail of water, or

kindle a fire, as the Hoopoe, wishing to destroy the Springwort, after

using it, drops it either into fire or water. It is related of the

Hoopoe, that one of these birds had a nest in an old wall in which

there was a crevice. The proprietor, noticing the cleft in the wall,

had it stopped up with plaster during the Hoopoe’s absence, so that

when the poor bird returned to feed her young, she found that it was

impossible to get to her nest. Thereupon she flew off in quest of a

plant called _Poa_, thought to be Sainfoin or Lucerne, and, having

found a spray, returned and applied it to the plaster, which instantly

fell from the crevice, and allowed the Hoopoe ingress to her nest.

Twice again did the owner plaster up the rent in his wall, and twice

again did the persistent and sagacious bird apply the magic _Poa_ with

successful results.

In Piedmont there grows a little plant which, as stated in a previous

chapter, bears the name of the Herb of the Blessed Mary. This plant is

known to the birds as being fatal when eaten: hence, when their young

are stolen from them and imprisoned in cages, the parent birds, in

order that death may release them from their life of bondage, gather

a spray of this herb and carry it in their beaks to their imprisoned

children.

The connection between the Dove and the Olive has been set forth for

all time in the Bible narrative of Noah and the Flood; but it would

seem from Sir John Maundevile’s account of the Church of St. Katherine,

which existed at his time in the vicinity of Mount Sinai, that Ravens,

Choughs, and Crows have emulated the example of the Dove, and carried

Olive-branches to God-fearing people. This Church of St. Katherine, we

are told, marks the spot where God revealed Himself to Moses in the

burning bush, and in it there were many lamps kept burning: the reason

of this Maundevile thus explains:--“For thei han of Oyle of Olyves

ynow bothe for to brenne in here lampes, and to ete also: And that

plentee have thei be the Myracle of God. For the Ravenes and Crowes

and the Choughes, and other Foules of the Contree assemblen hem there

every Yeer ones, and fleen thider as in pilgrymage: and everyche of hem

bringethe a Braunche of the Bayes or of Olive, in here bekes, in stede

of Offryng, and leven hem there; of the whiche the monkes maken gret

plentee of Oyle; and this is a gret Marvaylle.”

[Illustration: Pious Birds and Olives. From _Maundevile’s Travels_.]

The ancients entertained a strong belief that birds were gifted with

the knowledge of herbs, and that just as the Woodpecker and Hoopoe

sought out the Springwort, wherewith to remove obstructions, so other

birds made use of certain herbs which they knew possessed valuable

medicinal or curative properties; thus Aristotle, Pliny, Dioscorides,

and the old herbalists and botanical writers, all concur in stating

that Swallows were in the habit of plucking Celandine (_Chelidonium_),

and applying it to the eyes of their young, because, as Gerarde tells

us, “With this herbe the dams restore sight to their young ones when

their eies be put out.” W. Coles, fully accepting the fact as beyond

cavil, thus moralizes upon it:--“It is known to such as have skill of

nature what wonderful care she takes of the smallest creatures, giving

to them a knowledge of medicine to help themselves, if haply diseases

annoy them. The Swallow cureth her dim eyes with Celandine; the Wesell

knoweth well the virtue of Herb Grace; the Dove the Verven; the Dogge

dischargeth his mawe with a kind of Grasse; ... and too long it were

to reckon up all the medicines which the beestes are known to use by

Nature’s direction only.” The same writer, in his ‘Adam and Eden,’

tells us that the _Euphrasia_, or Eyebright, derived its English name

from the fact of its being used by Linnets and other birds to clear

their sight. Says he: “Divers authors write that Goldfinches, Linnets,

and some other birds make use of this herb for the repairing of their

young ones’ sight. The purple and yellow spots and stripes which are

upon the flowers of Eyebright very much resemble the diseases of the

eyes, or bloodshot.”

Apuleius tells us that the Eagle, when he wishes to soar high and scan

far and wide, plucks a wild Lettuce, and expressing the juice, rubs

with it his eyes, which in consequence become wonderfully clear and

far-seeing. The Hawk, for a similar purpose, was thought to employ the

Hawk-bit, or Hawk-weed (_Hieracium_). Pigeons and Doves, not to be

behind their traditional enemy, discovered that Vervain possessed the

power of curing dimness of vision, and were not slow to use it with

that object: hence the plant obtained the name of Pigeon’s-grass. Geese

were thought to “help their diseases” with _Galium aparine_, called on

that account Goose-grass; and they are said to sometimes feed on the

_Potentilla anserina_, or Goose Tansy. On the other hand, they were so

averse to the herb known to the ancients as _Chenomychon_, that they

took to flight the moment they spied it.

There is an old tradition of a certain life-giving herb, which was

known to birds, and a story is told of how one day an old man watched

two birds fighting till one was overcome. In an almost exhausted state

it went and ate of a certain herb, and then returned to the onslaught.

When the old man had observed this occur several times, he went and

plucked the herb which had proved so valuable to the little bird; and

when at last it came once more in search of the life-giving plant, and

found it gone, it uttered a shrill cry, and fell down dead. The name of

the herb is not given; but the story has such a strong family likeness

to that narrated by Forestus, in which the Goat’s Rue is introduced,

that, probably, _Galega_ is the life-giving herb referred to. The

story told by Forestus is as follows:--A certain old man once taking

a walk by the bank of a river, saw a Lizard fighting with a Viper; so

he quietly lay down on the ground, that he might the better witness

the fight without being seen by the combatants. The Lizard, being the

inferior in point of strength, was speedily wounded by a very powerful

stroke from the Viper--so much so, that it lay on the turf as if dying.

But shortly recovering itself, it crept through the rather long Grass,

without being noticed by the Viper, along the bank of the river, to

a certain herb (Goat’s Rue), growing there nigh at hand. The Lizard,

having devoured it, regained at once its former strength, and returning

to the Viper, attacked it in the same way as before, but was wounded

again from receiving another deadly blow from the Viper. Once more the

Lizard secretly made for the herb, to regain its strength, and being

revived, it again engaged with its dangerous enemy--but in vain; for it

experienced the same fate as before. Looking on, the old man wondered

at the plant not less than at the battle; and in order to try if the

herb possessed other hidden powers, he pulled it up secretly, while the

Lizard was engaged afresh with the Viper. The Lizard having been again

wounded, returned towards the herb, but not being able to find it in

its accustomed place, it sank exhausted and died.

Numerous plants have had the names of birds given to them, either from

certain peculiarities in their structure resembling birds, or because

they form acceptable food for the feathered race. Thus the Cock’s Comb

is so called from the shape of its calyx; the Cock’s Foot, from the

form of its spike; and the Cock’s Head (the Sainfoin), from the shape

of the legume. The Crane’s Bill and the Heron’s Bill both derive their

names from the form of their respective seed vessels. The Guinea Hen

(_Fritillaria meleagris_) has been so called from its petals being

spotted like this bird. The Pheasant’s Eye (_Adonis autumnalis_) owes

its name to its bright red corolla and dark centre; the Sparrow Tongue

(the Knot-grass) to its small acute leaves; and the Lark’s Spur, Heel,

Toe, or Claw (_Delphinium_) to its projecting nectary. Chickweed and

Duckweed have been so called from being favourite food for poultry. The

Crow has given its name to a greater number of plants than any other

bird. The Ranunculus is the _Coronopus_ or Crow Foot of Dioscorides,

the _Geranium pratense_ is the Crowfoot Crane’s Bill, the _Lotus

corniculatus_ is called Crow Toes, the Daffodil and the Blue-bell both

bear the name of Crow Bells, the _Empetrum nigrum_ is the Crow Berry,

_Allium vineale_ is Crow Garlick, _Scilla nutans_, Crow Leeks, and

the _Scandix Pecten_, Crow Needles. The Hen has a few plants named

after it, the greater and lesser Hen Bits (_Lamium amplexicaule_ and

_Veronica hederifolia_); the Hen’s Foot (_Caucalis daucoides_), so

called from the resemblance of its leaves to a hen’s claw; and Henbane

(_Hyoscyamus niger_), which seems to have derived its name from the

baneful effects its seeds have upon poultry.

Plants connected with Animals.

The Ass has named after it the Ass Parsley (_Æthusa Cynapium_), and

the Ass’s Foot, the Coltsfoot, _Tussilago Farfara_. William Coles

says that “if the Asse be oppressed with melancholy, he eates of the

Herbe _Asplenion_ or Miltwaste, and eases himself of the swelling of

the spleen.” D. C. Franciscus Paullini has given, in an old work, an

account of three Asses he met in Westphalia, which were in the habit of

intoxicating themselves by eating white Henbane and Nightshade. These

four-footed drunkards, when in their cups, strayed to a pond, where

they pulled themselves together with a dip and a draught of water. The

same author relates another story. A miller of Thuringia had brought

meal with his nine Asses into the next district. Having accepted the

hospitality of some boon companions, he left his long-eared friends

to wander around the place and to feed from the hedgerows and public

roads. There they chanced to find a quantity of Thistles that had been

cut, and other food mixed with Hemlock, and at once devoured the spoil

greedily and confidently. At dusk, the miller, rising to depart, was

easily detained by his associates, who cried out that the road was

short, and that the moon, which had risen, would light him better than

any torch. Meanwhile, the Asses, feeling the Hemlock’s power in their

bodies, fell down on the public road, being deprived of all motion and

sensation. At length, about midnight, the miller came to his Asses, and

thinking them to be asleep, lashed them vigorously. But they remained

motionless, and apparently dead. The miller, much frightened, now

besought assistance from the country-folks, but they were all of one

opinion, that the Asses were dead, and that they should be skinned

the next day, when the cause of such a sudden death could be inquired

into. “Come,” said he, “if they are dead, why should I worry myself

about them--let them lie. We can do no good. Come, my friends, let us

return into the inn--to-morrow you will be my witnesses.” Meanwhile

the skinners were called; and, after looking at the Asses, one of them

said, “Do you wish, miller, that we should take their skins off; or

would you be disposed, if we restored the beasts to life, to give us

a handsome reward? You see they are quite in our power. Say what you

wish, and it shall be done, miller.” “Here is my hand,” replied the

miller, “and I pledge my word that I will give you what you wish, if

you restore them to life.” The skinner, smiling, caught hold of the

whip, and lashing the beasts with all his might, roused all from their

lethargic condition. The rustics were confounded. “O! you foolish

fellows,” said he, “look at this herb (showing them some Hemlock), how

profusely it grows in this neighbourhood. Do you not know that Hemlock

causes Asses to fall into a profound sleep?” The rustics, flocking

together under a Lime-tree, as rustics do, made there and then a law

that whosoever should discover, in field or garden, or anywhere else,

that noxious plant, he should pluck it quickly, in order that men and

beasts might be injured by it no more.

The Bear has given its name to several English plants. The _Primula

Auricula_, on account of the shape of its leaves, is called Bear’s

Ears; the _Helleborus fœtidus_, for a similar reason, is known as

Bears Foot; _Meum athamanticum_ is Bear’s-wort; _Allium ursinum_,

Bear’s Garlic; and _Arctostaphylos uva ursi_, Bear’s Berry, or Bear’s

Bilberry; the three last plants being favourite food of Bears. The

Acanthus used at one time to be called Bear’s Breech, but the name has

for some unaccountable reason been transferred to the Cow Parsnip,

_Heracleum Sphondylium_. In Italy the name of _Branca orsina_ is

given to the Acanthus. This plant was considered by Dioscorides a

cure for burns. Pliny says that Bear’s grease had the same property.

De Gubernatis states that two Indian plants, the _Argyreia argentea_

and the _Batatas paniculata_, bear Sanscrit names signifying “Odour

pleasing to Bears.”

The Bull has given its name to some few plants. _Tussilago Farfara_,

generally called Coltsfoot, is also known as Bull’s-Foot; _Centaurea

nigra_ is Bull’s-weed; _Verbascum Thapsus_ is Bullock’s Lungwort,

having been so denominated on account of its curative powers,

suggested, on the Doctrine of Signatures, by the similarity of its

leaf to the shape of a dewlap. The purple and the pale spadices of

_Arum maculatum_ are sometimes called Bulls and Cows. The Great Daisy

is Ox-Eye; the _Primula elatior_, Ox-Lip; the _Helminthia echioides_,

Ox-Tongue; and the _Helleborus fætidus_, Ox-Heel. The _Antirrhinum_ and

_Arum maculatum_ are, from their resemblance in shape, respectively

known as Calf’s Snout and Calf’s Foot.

Cats have several representative plants. From its soft flower-heads,

the _Gnaphalium dioicum_ is called Cat’s Foot; from the shape of its

leaves, the _Hypochæris maculata_ is known as Cat’s Ear; the Ground

Ivy, also from the shape of its leaves, is Cat’s Paw; two plants are

known as Cat’s Tail, viz., _Typha latifolia_ and _Phleum pratense_.

_Euphorbia helioscopia_, on account of its milky juice, is Cat’s Milk;

and, lastly, _Nepeta cataria_ is denominated Cat-Mint, because, as

Gerarde informs us in his ‘Herbal,’ “Cats are very much delighted

herewith: for the smell of it is so pleasant unto them, that they rub

themselves upon it, and wallow or tumble in it, and also feed on the

branches very greedily.” We are also told by another old writer that

Cats are amazingly delighted with the root of the plant Valerian; so

much so, that, enticed by its smell, they at once run up to it, lick

it, kiss it, jump on it, roll themselves over it, and exhibit almost

uncontrollable signs of joy and gladness. There is an old rhyme on the

liking of Cats for the plant _Marum_, which runs as follows:--

“If you set it,

The Cats will eat it;

If you sow it,

The Cats will know it.”

The Cow has given its name to a whole series of plants: its Berry is

_Vaccinium Vitis idæa_, its Cress, _Lepidium campestre_, its Parsley or

Weed, _Chærophyllum sylvestre_, its Parsnip, _Heracleum Sphondylium_,

its Wheat, _Melampyrum_. The Quaking Grass, _Briza media_, is known

as Cow Quake, from an idea that cattle are fond of it; and the Water

Hemlock (_Cicuta virosa_) has the opprobrious epithet of Cow Bane

applied to it, from its supposed baneful effect upon oxen. The _Primula

veris_ is the Cowslip.

In Norway is to be found the herb Ossifrage--a kind of Reed which is

said to have the remarkable power of softening the bones of animals; so

much so, that if oxen eat it, their bones become so soft that not only

are the poor beasts rendered incapable of walking, but they can even be

rolled into any shape. They are not said to die however. Fortunately

they can be cured, if the bones are exhibited to them of another animal

killed by the eating of this plant. It is most wonderful, however, that

the inhabitants make a medicine for cementing bones from this very herb.

There are several plants dedicated to man’s faithful friend. Dog’s Bane

(_Apocynum_) is a very curious plant: its bell-shaped flowers entangle

flies who visit the flower for its honey-juice, so that in August,

when full blown, the corolla is full of their dead bodies. Although

harmless to some persons, yet it is noxious to others, poisoning and

creating swellings and inflammations on certain people who have only

trod on it. Gerarde describes it as a deadly and dangerous plant,

especially to four-footed beasts; “for, as Dioscorides writes, the

leaves hereof, mixed with bread, and given, kill dogs, wolves, foxes,

and leopards.” Dog’s Chamomile (_Matricaria Chamomila_) is a spurious

or wild kind of Chamomile. Dog Grass (_Triticum caninum_) is so called

because Dogs take it medicinally as an aperient. Dog’s Mercury (or

Dog’s Cole) is a poisonous kind, so named to distinguish it from

English Mercury. Dog’s Nettle is _Galeopsis Tetrahit_. Dog’s Orach

(_Chenopodium Vulvaria_), is a stinking kind. Dog’s Parsley (_Æthusa

Cynapium_), a deleterious weed, also called Fool’s Parsley and Lesser

Hemlock. Dog Rose (_Rosa canina_) is the common wilding or Canker

Rose; the ancients supposed the root to cure the bite of a mad Dog, it

having been recommended by an oracle for that purpose; hence the Romans

called it _Canina_; and Pliny relates that a soldier who had been

bitten by a mad Dog, was healed with the root of this shrub, which had

been indicated to his mother in a dream. Dog’s Tail Grass (_Cynosurus

cristatus_) derives its name from its spike being fringed on one side

only. Dog Violet (_Viola canina_) is so-called contemptuously because

scentless. Dog’s Tongue, or Hound’s Tongue (_Cynoglossum officinale_)

derived its name from the softness of its leaf, and was reputed to have

the magical property of preventing the barking of Dogs if laid under a

person’s feet. Dog Wood (_Cornus sanguinea_) is the wild Cornel; and

Dog Berries the fruit of that herb, which was also formerly called

Hound’s Tree. Dr. Prior thinks that this name has been misunderstood,

and that it is derived from the old English word _dagge_, or dagger,

which was applied to the wood because it was used for skewers by

butchers. The ancient Greeks knew a plant (supposed to be a species of

_Antirrhinum_) which they called _Cynocephalia_ (Dog’s Head), as well

as Osiris; and to this plant Pliny ascribes extraordinary properties.

As a rule, the word “Dog,” when applied to any plant, implies contempt.

After the Fox has been named, from its shape, the _Alopecurus

pratensis_, Fox-Tail-grass; and the _Digitalis_ has been given the name

of Fox-Glove.

The Goat has its Weed (_Ægopodium Podagraria_), and has given its name

to the _Tragopogon pratensis_, which, on account of its long, coarse

pappus, is called Goat’s Beard. _Caprifolium_, or Goat’s Leaf, is a

specific name of the Honeysuckle, given to it by the old herbalists,

because the leaf, or more properly the stem, climbs and wanders over

high places where Goats are not afraid to tread.

A species of Sow Thistle, the _Sonchus oleraceus_, is called the Hare’s

Palace, from a superstitious notion that the Hare derives shelter and

courage from it. Gerarde calls it the Hare’s Lettuce, a name given

to it by Apuleius, because, when the Hare is fainting with heat or

fatigue, she recruits her failing strength with it. Dr. Prior gives the

following extracts from old authors respecting this curious tradition.

Anthony Askam says, “yf a Hare eate of this herbe in somer, when he is

mad, he shal be hole.” Topsell also tells us in his ‘Natural History,’

p. 209, that “when Hares are overcome with heat, they eat of an herb

called _Lactuca leporina_, that is, the Hare’s-lettuce, Hare’s-house,

Hare’s-palace; and there is no disease in this beast, the cure whereof

she does not seek for in this herb.” This plant is sometimes called

Hare’s Thistle. _Bupleurum rotundifolium_ is termed Hare’s Ear, from

the shape of its leaves, as is also _Erysimum orientale_. _Trifolium

arvense_ is Hare’s Foot, from the soft grey down which surrounds the

blossoms resembling the delicate fur of the Hare’s foot. Both _Lagurus

oratus_, and the flowering Rush, _Eriophorum vaginatum_, are called

Hare’s Tail, from the soft downy inflorescence.

_Melilotus officinalis_ is Hart’s Clover; _Scolopendrium vulgare_,

Hart’s Tongue; _Plantago Coronopus_, Hart’s Horn; _Scirpus cæspitosus_,

Deer’s or Hart’s Hair; _Rhamnus catharticus_, Hart’s or Buck Thorn

(_Spina cervina_); and _Tordylium maximum_, Hart Wort, so called

because, as Dioscorides tells us, the juice of the leaves was given to

Roes in order that they might speedily be delivered of their young.

According to Pliny, the Roman matrons used to employ it for the same

purpose, having been “taught by Hindes that eate it to speade their

delivery, as Aristotle did declare it before.” The Raspberry is still

sometimes called by its ancient name of Hindberry; and the _Teucrium

Scorodonia_ is known as Hind-heal, from an old tradition that it cures

Deer when bitten by venomous serpents. The Dittany is said to have the

same extraordinary effect on wounded Harts as upon Goats (see DITTANY,

Part II.).

Numerous indeed are the plants named after the Horse, either on account

of the use they are put to, the shape of their foliage, &c., their

large size, or the coarseness of their texture. _Inula Helenium_

is Horse-heal, a name attached to the plant by a double blunder of

_Inula_ for _hinnula_, a Colt, and _Helenium_, for heal or heel;

employed to heal Horses of sore heels, &c. _Vicia Faba_ is the Horse

Bean; _Teucrium Chamædrys_, the Germander, is called Horse Chire,

from its springing up after Horse-droppings. _Melampyrum sylvaticum_

is the Horse Flower, so called from a verbal error. The Alexandrian

Laurel was formerly called Horse Tongue. _Tussilago Farfara_, from the

shape of its leaf, is termed Horse Hoof. _Centaurea nigra_ is Horse

Knob. Another name for Colt’s Foot is Horse Foot; and we have Horse

Thistle, Mint, Mushroom, Parsley, Thyme, and Radish. The Dutch Rush,

_Equisetum_, is called Horse Tail, a name descriptive of its shape;

_Hippocrepis comosa_ is known as the Horse-shoe Vetch, from the shape

of the legumes; and, lastly, the _Œnanthe Phellandrium_ is the Horse

Bane, because, in Sweden, it is supposed to give Horses the palsy.

In Mexico, the Rattle Grass is said to instantly kill Horses who

unfortunately eat it. The Indians call the Oleander Horse’s Death,

and they name several plants after different parts of the Horse. In

connection with Horses, we must not forget to mention the Moonwort,

which draws the nails out of the Horses’ shoes, and of which Culpeper

writes: “Moonwort is an herb which they say will open locks and

unshoe such Horses as tread upon it; this some laugh to scorn, and

those no small fools neither; but country people that I know, call

it Unshoe-the-Horse. Besides, I have heard commanders say that, on

White Down, in Devonshire, near Tiverton, there were found thirty

horse-shoes, pulled off from the Earl of Essex’s horses, being then

drawn up in a body, many of them being newly shod, and no reason known,

which caused much admiration, and the herb described usually grows upon

heaths.” In Italy, the herb _Sferracavallo_ is deemed to have the power

of unshoeing Horses out at pasture. The Mouse-ear, or _Herba clavorum_,

is reputed to prevent blacksmiths hurting horses when being shod. The

Scythians are said to have known a plant, called _Hippice_, which, when

given to a Horse, would enable him to travel for some considerable

time without suffering either from hunger or thirst. Perhaps this is

the Water Pepper, which, according to English tradition, has the same

effect if placed under the saddle.

The humble Hedgehog has suggested the name of Hedgehog Parsley for

_Caucalis daucoides_, on account of its prickly burs.

In a previous chapter, a full description has been given of the

_Barometz_, that mysterious plant of Tartary, immortalised by Darwin

as the Vegetable Lamb. From the shape of its leaf, the _Plantago

media_ has gained the name of Lamb’s Tongue; from its downy flowers,

the _Anthyllis vulneraria_ is called Lamb’s Toe; either from its

being a favourite food of Lambs, or because it appears at the lambing

season, the _Valerianella olitoria_ is known as Lamb’s Lettuce; and the

_Atriplex patula_ is called Lamb’s Quarters.

The Leopard has given its name to the deadly _Doronicum Pardalianches_

(from the Greek _Pardalis_, a Leopard, and _ancho_, to strangle); hence

our name of Leopard’s Bane, because it was reputed to cause the death

of any animal that ate it, and it was therefore formerly mixed with

flesh to destroy Leopards.

The Lion, according to Gerarde, claimed several plants. The _Alchemilla

vulgaris_, from its leaf resembling his foot, was called Lion’s Foot

or Paw; a plant, called _Leontopetalon_ by the Greeks, was known in

England as Lion’s Turnip or Lion’s Leaf; and two kinds of Cudweed,

_Leontopodium_ and _L. parvum_, bore the name of Lion’s Cudweed, from

their flower-heads resembling a Lion’s foot. The _Leontopodium_ has

been identified with the _Gnaphalium Alpinum_, the _Filago stellata_,

the Edelweiss of the Germans, and the _Perlière des Alpes_ of the

French. De Gubernatis points out that, inasmuch as the Lion represents

the Sun, the plants bearing the Lion’s name are essentially plants of

the Sun. This is particularly noticeable in the case of the Dandelion

(_Dent de Lion_) or Lion’s Tooth. In Geneva, Switzerland, children

form a chain of these flowers, and holding it in their hands, dance

in a circle; a German name for it is _Sonneswirbel_ (_Solstice_), as

well as _Solsequium heliotropium_. The Romans saw in the flower of the

_Helianthus_ a resemblance to a Lion’s mouth. In the _Orobanche_ or

Broom Rape (the _Sonnenwurz_, Root of the Sun, of the Germans) some

have seen the resemblance to a Lion’s mouth and foot; it was called the

Lion’s Pulse or Lion’s Herb, and was considered an antidote to poison.

The tiny Mouse, like the majestic Lion, is represented in the vegetable

kingdom by several plants. From the shape of the leaves, _Hieracium

Pilosella_ is known as Mouse Ear, _Cerastium vulgare_, Mouse Ear

Chickweed, and _Myosotis palustris_, or Forget-Me-Not, Mouse Ear

Scorpion Grass. _Myosurus minimus_, from the shape of its slender

seed-spike, is called Mouse Tail; and _Alopecurus agrestis_, Mouse Tail

Grass. _Hordeum marinum_ is Mouse Barley.

Swine plants are numerous. We have the Swine Bane, Sow Bane, or Pig

Weed (_Chenopodium rubrum_), a herb which, according to Parkinson, was

“found certain to kill Swine.” The Pig Nut (_Bunium flexuosum_) is

so called from its tubers being a favourite food of Pigs. Sow Bread

(_Cyclamen Europæum_) has obtained its name for a similar reason; and

Swine’s Grass (_Polygonum aviculare_) is so called because Swine are

believed to be fond of it. _Hyoseris minima_ is Swine Succory, and

_Senebiera Coronopus_, Swine’s Cress. For possession of the Dandelion,

the Pig enters the lists with the Lion, and claims the flower as the

Swine’s Snout, on account of the form of its receptacle. According to

Du Bartas, Swine, when affected with the spleen, seek relief by eating

the Spleenwort or Miltwaste (_Asplenium Ceterach_),

“The Finger-Fern, which being given to Swine,

It makes their milt to melt away in fine.”

De Gubernatis states that the god Indra is thought to have taken the

form of a Goat, and he gives a long list of Indian plants named after

Sheep and Goats. The Ram, He-Goat, and Lamb, called _Mesha_, also give

their names, in Sanscrit, to different plants. In England, _Rumex

Acetosella_ is Sheep’s Sorrel, _Chærophyllum temulum_ Sheep’s Parsley,

_Jasione montana_ Sheep’s-Bit-Scabious, and _Hydrocotyle vulgaris_, or

White Rot, Sheep’s Bane, from its character of poisoning Sheep.

The Squirrel, although a denizen of the woods, only claims one plant,

_Hordeum maritimum_, which, from the shape of its flower-spike, has

obtained the name of Squirrel Tail.

The Elephant has a whole series of Indian trees and plants dedicated to

him, which are enumerated by De Gubernatis; the _Bignonia suaveolens_

is called the Elephant’s Tree; and certain Cucumbers, Pumpkins, and

Gourds are named after him.

The Wolf, in India, gives its name to the _Colypea hernandifolia_, and

Wolf’s Eye is a designation given to the _Ipomœa Turpethum_. Among

the Germans, the Wolf becomes, under the several names of _Graswolf_,

_Kornwolf_, _Roggenwolf_, and _Kartoffelwolf_, a demon haunting fields

and crops. In our own country, the _Euphorbia_, from its acrid, milky

juice, is called Wolf’s Milk; the _Lycopodium clavatum_ is the Wolf’s

Claw, and the _Aconitum Lycoctonum_ is Wolf’s Bane, a name it obtained

in olden times when hunters were in the habit of poisoning with the

juice of this plant the baits of flesh they laid for Wolves.

There are several plants bearing, in some form or other, the

appellation of Dragon. The common Dragon (_Arum Dracunculus_) is, as

its name implies, a species of Arum, which sends up a straight stalk

about three feet high, curiously spotted like the belly of a serpent.

The flower of the Dragon plant has such a strong scent of carrion, that

few persons can endure it, and it is consequently usually banished

from gardens. Gerarde describes three kinds of Dragons, under the

names of Great Dragon, Small Dragon, and Water Dragon: these plants

all have homœopathic qualities, inasmuch as although they are by name

at least vegetable reptiles, yet, according to Dioscorides, all who

have rubbed the leaves or roots upon their hands, will not be bitten

by Vipers. Pliny also says that Serpents will not come near anyone

who carries a portion of a Dragon plant with him, and that it was a

common practice in his day to keep about the person a piece of the

root of this herb. Gerarde tells us that “the distilled water has

vertue against the pestilence or any pestilentiall fever or poyson,

being drunke bloud warme with the best treacle or mithridate.” He also

says that the smell of the flowers is injurious to women who are about

to become mothers. The Green Dragon (_Arum Dracontium_), a native of

China, Japan, and America, possesses a root which is prescribed as

a very strong emmenagogue. There is a species of Dragon which grows

in the morasses about Magellan’s Strait, whose flowers exhibit the

appearance of an ulcer, and exhale so strong an odour of putrid flesh,

that flesh-flies resort to it to deposit their eggs. Another Dragon

plant is the _Dracontium polyphyllum_, a native of Surinam and Japan,

where they prepare a medicine from the acrid roots, which they call

_Konjakf_, and esteem as a great emmenagogue: it is used there to

procure abortion. _Dracontium fœtidum_, Fetid Dragon, or Skunk-weed,

flourishes in the swamps of North America, and has obtained its

nickname from its rank smell, resembling that of a Skunk or Pole-cat.

Dragon’s Head (_Dracocephalum_) is a name applied to several plants.

The Moldavian Dragon’s Head is often called Moldavian or Turk’s Balm.

The Virginian Dragon’s Head is named by the French, _La Cataleptique_,

from its use in palsy and kindred diseases. The Canary Dragon’s

Head, a native of the Canary Islands, is called (improperly) Balm

of Gilead, from its fine odour when rubbed. The old writers called

it _Camphorosma_ and _Cedronella_, and ascribed to it, as to other

Dragon plants, the faculty of being a remedy for the bites and stings

of venomous beasts, as well as for the bites of mad Dogs. The Tarragon

(_Artemisia Dracunculus_), “the little Dragon,” is the Dragon plant

of Germany and the northern nations, and the _Herbe au Dragon_ of the

French. The ancient herbalists affirmed that the seed of the Flax put

into a Radish-root or Sea Onion, and so set, would bring forth the

herb Tarragon. The Snake Weed was called by the ancients, Dragon and

Little Dragon, and the Sneezewort, Dragon of the Woods. The Snap-dragon

appears to have been so named merely from the shape of its corolla,

but in many places it is said to have a supernatural influence, and to

possess the power of destroying charms.

Snakes are represented by the _Fritillaria Meleagris_, which is called

Snake’s Head, on account of its petals being marked like Snakes’

scales. The Sea Grass (_Ophiurus incurvatus_) is known as Snake’s Tail,

and the Bistort (_Polygonum Bistorta_) is Snake Weed.

Vipers have the _Echium vulgare_ dedicated to them under the name of

Viper’s Bugloss, a plant supposed to cure the bite of these reptiles;

and the _Scorzonera edulis_, or Viper’s Grass, a herb also considered

good for healing wounds caused by Vipers.

The Scorpion finds a vegetable representative in the _Myosotis_, or

Scorpion Grass, so named from its spike resembling a Scorpion’s Tail.

It is not surprising to find that Toads and Frogs, living as they do

among the herbage, should have several plants named after them. The

Toad, according to popular superstition, was the impersonation of the

Devil, and therefore it was only fit that poisonous and unwholesome

Fungi should be called Toad Stools, the more so as there was a very

general belief that Toads were in the habit of sitting on them:--

“The griesly Todestol grown there mought I see,

And loathed paddocks lording on the same.”--_Spenser._

Growing in damp places, haunted by Toads croaking and piping to one

another, the _Equisetum limosum_, with its straight, fistulous stalks,

has obtained the name of Toad Pipe. The _Linaria vulgaris_, from its

narrow Flax-like leaves, is known as Toad Flax, from a curious mistake

of the old herbalists who confounded the Latin words _bubo_ and _bufo_.

Frogs claim as their especial plants the Frog Bit (_Morsus ranæ_),

so called because Frogs are supposed to eat it; Frog’s Lettuce

(_Potamogeton densus_); Frog Grass (_Salicornia herbacea_); and Frog

Foot, a name originally assigned to the Vervain (the leaf of which

somewhat resembles a Frog’s foot); but now transferred to the Duck

Meat, _Lemna_.

Bees are recognised in the _Delphinium grandiflorum_, or Bee Larkspur;

the _Galeopsis Tetrahit_, or Bee Nettle; the _Ophrys apifera_, or Bee

Orchis; and the _Daucus Carota_, or Bee’s Nest.

[Headpiece]

CHAPTER XIII.

The Doctrine of Plant Signatures.

William Coles, in his ‘Art of Simpling’ (a work published in the

year 1656), abandoning for awhile practical instruction, moralises

thus:--“Though sin and Sathan have plunged mankinde into an Ocean of

Infirmities, yet the mercy of God, which is over all His workes, maketh

Grasse to grow upon the Mountaines, and Herbes for the use of men;

and hath not only stamped upon them a distinct forme, but also given

them particular Signatures, whereby a man may read, even in legible

characters, the use of them.” This ancient Doctrine of Signatures was

an ingenious system elaborated for discovering from certain marks or

appearances on the various portion of a plant’s structure, the supposed

medicinal virtue attached to it. A good illustration is to be found

in the following passage, translated from P. Lauremberg’s _Apparatus

Plantarum_:--“The seed of Garlic is black; it obscures the eyes with

blackness and darkness. This is to be understood of healthy eyes, but

those which are dull through vicious humidity, from these Garlic drives

this viciousness away. The tunic of Garlic is ruddy; it expels blood.

It has a hollow stalk, and it helps affections of the wind-pipe.”

Many curious details of the system of Plant Signatures are to be

found in the works of Porta, Grollius, Schröder, and Kircher: these

authorities tell us that there are given, not only in animals, but

also in vegetables, certain sure marks, signs, and indications from

which their virtues and powers can be inferred by the sagacious and

painstaking student. Kircher is of opinion that the Egyptians derived

their first knowledge of the elements of medicine from these signs,

which they had patiently and closely studied; and in one of his works

he enunciates his views in the following passage:--“Since one and all

of the members of the human body, under the wise arrangement of Nature,

agree or differ with the several objects in the world of creation, by a

certain sympathy or antipathy of nature, it follows that there has been

implanted by the providence of Nature, both in the several members and

in natural objects, a reciprocal instinct, which impels them to seek

after those things which are similar and consequently beneficial to

themselves, and to avoid and shun those things which are antagonistic

or hurtful. Hence has emanated that more recondite part of medicine

which compares the Signatures or Characterisms of natural things with

the members of the human body, and by magnetically applying like to

like produces marvellous effects in the preservation of human health.

In this way, the occult properties of plants--first of those that

are endowed with life, and secondly of those destitute of life--are

indicated by resemblances; for all exhibit to man, by their Signatures

and Characterisms, both their powers, by which they can heal, and the

diseases in which they are useful. Not only by their parts (as the

root, stem, leaf, flower, fruit, and seed), but also by their actions

and qualities (such as their retaining or shedding their leaves,

their offspring, number, beauty or deformity, form, and colour), they

indicate what kind of service they can render to man, and what are

the particular members of the human body to which they are specially

appropriate.”

As examples of the practical working of the system of Plant Signatures,

Kircher tells us that if the root of the _Chelidonium_ be placed in

white wine, it is rendered yellow, resembling bilious humour, and thus

discloses a sure and infallible remedy against yellow jaundice. He

remarks that he had learned this by personal experience, having advised

some persons suffering from that malady to try _Chelidonium_ as a

cure; and that as a result they were freed from the disease. Persons

liable to apoplexy are said to have a line resembling an anchor traced

in their hands. The plant _Acorus_ has a similar mark in its leaves,

and is a highly-approved remedy for apoplexy. So again, a certain line

or mark is to be found in the hands of persons suffering from colic,

similar in character to an outline found traced in the foliage of the

_Malobathrum_, a plant which will afford relief to patients suffering

from the disorder. Hellebore, which emits a most disagreeable odour,

possesses the property of absorbing offensive smells and expelling

them. _Dracontium_, or Great Dragon, a plant which bears a resemblance

to a dragon, is a most effectual preservation against serpents; Pliny

averring that serpents will not come near anyone carrying this plant.

Other examples of the application of the Doctrine of Signatures are not

difficult to be found among the quaintly-named plants enumerated in

English herbals. The Lung-wort (_Pulmonaria_), spotted with tubercular

scars, was a specific for consumption. The Bullock’s Lung-wort

(_Verbascum Thapsis_), so called from the resemblance of its leaf

to a dewlap, was employed as a cure for the pneumonia of bullocks.

The Liver-wort (_Marchantia polymorpha_), liver-shaped in its green

fructification, was a specific for bilious complaints. The Blood-root

(_Tormentilla_), which derives its name from the red colour of its

roots, was adopted as a cure for the bloody flux. The throat-like

corolla of the Throat-wort (_Campanula Trachelium_), better known as

the Canterbury Bell, caused it to be administered for bronchitis.

Tutsan (_Hypericum androsæmum_) was used to stop bleeding, because

the juice of its ripe capsule is of a claret colour. _Brunella_ (now

spelt _Prunella_) was called Brown-wort, having brownish leaves and

purple-blue flowers, and was in consequence supposed to cure a kind

of quinsy, called in German _die braune_. This plant has a corolla,

the profile of which is suggestive of a bill-hook, and therefore it

was called Carpenter’s-herb, and supposed to heal the wounds inflicted

by edge-tools. _Pimpinella Saxifraga_, _Alchemilla arvensis_, and the

genus _Saxifraga_, plants which split rocks by growing in their cracks,

have been named “Breakstones,” and were administered in cases of

calculus. Clary was transformed into Clear-eye, Godes-eie, Seebright,

and _Oculus Christi_, and eye-salves were consequently made of it.

Burstwort was thought efficacious in ruptures. The Scorpion-grass, or

Forget-Me-Not (_Myosotis_), whose flower-spike is somewhat suggestive

of a scorpion’s tail, was an antidote to the sting of that or other

venomous creatures. The Briony, which bears in its root a mark

significative of a dropsical man’s feet, was adopted as a cure for

dropsy. The Moon-daisy averted lunacy; and the Birth-wort, Fig-wort,

Kidney-vetch, Nipple-wort, and Spleen-wort were all appropriated as

their names suggest, on account of fancied resemblances. The Toad-flax

(_Linaria_), it may here be pointed out, owes its name to a curious

mistake on the part of some believer in the Doctrine of Signatures.

According to Dodoens, it was useful in the treatment of a complaint

called buboes, and received its Latin name, _Bubonium_. A confusion

between the words _bubo_ and _bufo_ (Latin for toad) gave rise to its

present name of Toad-flax; and soon arose legends of sick or wounded

toads seeking this plant and curing themselves with its leaves.

The general rules that guided the founders of the system of Plant

Signatures, which were supposed to reveal the occult powers and virtues

of vegetables, would seem to have been as under:--

Vegetables, as herbs and plants, or their fruit, seed, flowers, &c.,

which resemble some human member in figure, colour, quality, and

consistence, were considered to be most adapted to that member, and to

possess medical properties specially applicable to it.

All herbs or plants that in flowers or juice bear a resemblance to

one or other of the four humours, viz., blood, yellow bile, phlegm,

and black bile, were deemed suitable for treating the same humour, by

increasing or expelling it.

All yellow-hued plants, if they were eatable, were thought to increase

yellow bile. In this category were included Orach, Melons, Crocus,

yellow Turnips, and all other yellow plants which have a sweet flavour.

Plants or herbs of a dull blackish colour, or of a brownish or a

spotted hue, were held to be serviceable in the treatment of black

bile. Some of them had a tendency to increase it, while others assisted

in carrying it off. Thus, Smilax, Mandragora, many kinds of Parsley,

Nightshade, and Poppies, having partly black, ash-coloured, and spotted

flowers, intermixed with pale tints, by causing bad dreams, excite

giddiness, vertigo, and epilepsy. Napellus, also, indicates in a

most marked manner its poisonous and virulent nature, for its flower

represents the skull of a dead man.

Plants which bear white flowers and have thick juice, which often

grow in moist and extremely humid places, and which resemble phlegm

or rheum, were thought to increase the very humours they represented.

Others of a drier temperament were thought to correct and purify the

same. Milky plants, as _Tithymallus_, _Polygala_, _Sonchus_, and

_Britalzar Ægyptiaca_, were supposed to increase and accumulate milk in

nurses.

Some plants of a red colour were believed to increase blood; some

to correct and purify it; and others to benefit hemorrhoidal and

dysenteric affections from a similarity of colour.

Plants of a mixed colour, as they unite in themselves a diversity of

temperaments, were thought to produce a diversity of effects; whence

two-coloured herbs were believed to possess and exercise a double

virtue. On this principle, diverse colours were said to cure diverse

humours in the human body; for example, _Tripolium_, _Panacæa_, and

_Triphera_ were considered beneficial for all humours.

Plants whose decoction and infusion, as well as colour and consistence,

were like some humour of the human body, were declared to be

appropriate for the purpose of evacuating that humour by attraction, or

increasing it by incorporation.

Certain plants were deemed to represent some disease or morbid

condition, and were judged to be helpful in its cure. Thus those were

administered in cases of calculus which represented stones, such as

_Milium solis_, the root of the White Saxifrage, the shells of Nuts,

and Nuts themselves. Spotted plants and herbs were thought to eradicate

spots, and scaly plants to remove scales. Perforated herbs were

selected for the cure of wounds and perforations of the body. Plants

which exude gums and resins were considered available for the treatment

of pus and matter. Swelling plants were thought good for tumours;

those that permit the cutting or puncturing of the stem were employed

for closing up wounds; and those that shed bark and skin were thought

adapted for the cleansing of the skin.

Accordingly as plants and herbs exhibited peculiarities in their

actions, so were they supposed to operate on man. Thus, sterile plants,

such as Lettuce, Fern, Willow, Savin, and many others, were believed

to conduce to the procuring of sterility in men; whilst salacious

and fecund plants were considered to confer fecundity. On the same

principle, long-lived and evergreen plants were said to procure vigour

for the human body.

Helvetius has left a list of classified herbs and plants which in his

time were considered by experts in herbcraft to exhibit peculiar marks

and Signatures by which they could be identified with the several

parts and members of the human body. This may be said to have formed

the basis of the system embraced in the Doctrine of Plant Signatures,

and as it epitomises the results of the protracted and laborious

researches of the old herbalists, who may fairly be said to have laid

the foundations of our present system of Botany, it has been thought

worth while to give an abbreviation of it.

The Head. Antirrhinum, Crocus, Geranium, Walnuts, Lily

of the Valley, Marjoram, Poppy, Violet, Rose,

Lime-blossom, the genus Brassica, &c.

The Hair. Asparagus, Goat’s-beard, Fennel, Nigella, Flax,

Tree Musk, the Vine, and Vine-roots, &c.

The Eyes. The flowers of Acacia, Euphrasy, Daisy, Bean,

Hyacinth, Geranium, Mallow, Narcissus, Hyacinth,

Ranunculus, Cornflower, &c.

The Ears. Bear’s Ear (_Auricula ursi_), Mountain Bindweed,

_Cyclamen Doronicum_, Gentian, rough Viper’s

Bugloss, Hypericum, Organy, Egyptian Beans, &c.

The Tongue. Horse-tongue (_Hippoglossum_), Adder’s-tongue

(_Ophioglossum_), Hound’s-tongue (_Cynoglossum_),

Hart’s-tongue, Frog-bit, Grass of Parnassus,

Prunella, Salvia, Sempervivum, &c.

The Teeth. The leaves of Fir and Juniper, Sunflower-seed,

Toothed Moss (_Muscus denticulatus_), Toothed

Violet (_Dentaria_), Dandelion (_Dens Leonis_),

&c.

The Heart. Borage, Motherwort (_Cardiaca_), Malaca Beans

(_Anacardium_), Strawberries, Pomegranate-blossom,

Hepatica, Violet, Peony, Rose, Iris,

Egyptian Lotus, &c.

The Lungs. Lung-wort, (_Pulmonaria_), Beet, the stalks of Anise,

Garden Teasel, Cresses, Fennel, Curled Lettuce,

Scabious, Rhubarb, Valerian, the Sea Moss

_Muscus marinus virens latifolius_, &c.

The Liver. Noble Liver-wort (_Hepatica trifolia_), Ground

Liver-wort (_Hepatica terrestris_), Garden Endive,

Portulaca, Aloe, Our Lady’s Thistle (_Carduus

Mariæ_), Gentian, Lettuce, Alpine Sanicle, &c.

The Bladder. Bladder-wort, Winter Cherry, Black Hellebore,

Nasturtium, Persicaria, Leaves of Senna, root

of True Rhubarb, broad-leaved Tithymallus,

Botrys, &c.

The Spleen. Spleenwort or Ceterach (_Asplenium_), Agrimony,

Shepherd’s Purse, Dandelion, Devil’s Bit

Scabious, Fern, Broom, Hawk-weed, Turnip,

Treacle Mustard, &c.

The Stomach. Roots of Acorus, Cyclamen, Elecampane, Iris,

and Galingale, Earth-nut, Parsnip, Radish,

Chives, Ginger, &c.

The Kidneys. Kidney-wort, Agnus Castus, seeds of Broom,

Bombax, Jasmine, and Lupine, Beans, Currants,

Ground Ivy, root of Leopard’s Bane, &c.

The Intestines, Navel-wort, Chickweed, Briony, Dodder, Bitter-sweet

&c. (Nightshade), Fenugreek, Nasturtium,

Honeysuckle, Chamomile-flowers, Alpine Sanicle,

roots of Polypody, &c.

The Hands, Agnus Castus, Garlick, Briony, Shepherd’s Purse, Fig,

Fingers, and Geranium, Ash-bark, Cinquefoil (_Heptaphyllum_),

Nerves. Tormentilla, Water Hellebore, Lupine,

Melon, Ophrys, Hoary Clover, Satyrion, Plantain,

Currants, Sanicle, Soap-wort, Wolf’s Bane,

Swallow-wort, _Vitis Idæa_, Asiatic Ranunculus,

with gummy root, &c.

The Doctrine of Signatures did not exclusively apply to the medicinal

virtues of herbs and plants: for example, Hound’s-tongue _Cynoglossum

officinale_, named from the shape and softness of its leaf, was (if we

may believe William Coles) thought to “tye the tongues of hounds, so

that they shall not bark at you, if it be laid under the bottom of your

feet, as Miraldus writeth.” Garlic (from the Anglo-Saxon words _gár_,

a spear, and _leác_, a plant) was, from its acute tapering leaves,

marked out as the war plant of the warriors and poets of the North. The

heavenly blue of the flower of the Germander Speedwell won for it the

Welsh appellation of the Eye of Christ. Even abstract virtues were to

be learnt by an attentive study of the Signatures of certain plants,

according to the dictum of that loyal and godly herbalist Robert

Turner, who naively tells us that “God hath imprinted upon the Plants,

Herbs, and Flowers, as it were in Hieroglyphicks, the very Signature of

their Vertues; as the learned Grollius and others well observe: as the

Nutmeg, being cut, resembles the Brain; the _Papaver erraticum_, or red

Poppy Flower, resembleth at its bottom the setling of the Blood in the

Plurisie; and how excellent is that Flower in Diseases of the Plurisie,

and Surfeits hath sufficiently been experienced.” In the Heliotrope

and Marigold subjects may learn their duty to their Sovereign: which

his Sacred Majesty King Charles the First mentions in his Princely

Meditations, walking in a Garden in the Isle of Wight, in the following

words, viz.:--

“‘The Marigold observes the Sun

More than my subjects me have done,’ &c.”

That great naturalist, John Ray, whilst expressing his disbelief of

the Doctrine of Plant Signatures as a whole, admitted that there were

tangible grounds for the formation of the system. He wrote:--“Howbeit,

I will not deny but that the noxious and malignant plants do, many of

them, discover something of their nature by the sad and melancholick

visage of their leaves, flowers, or fruits. And that I may not leave

that head wholly untouched, one observation I shall add, relating to

the virtues of plants, in which I think is something of truth; that is,

that there are, by the wise dispensation of Providence, such species of

plants produced in every country, as are made proper and convenient for

the meat and medicine of the men and animals that are bred and inhabit

therein. Insomuch that Solenander writes that, from the frequency of

the plants that spring up naturally in any region, he could easily

gather what endemical diseases the inhabitants thereof are subject to.

So in Denmark, Friesland, and Holland, where the scurvy usually reigns,

the proper remedy thereof, Scurvy-grass, doth plentifully grow.”

The Old Herbals and Herbalists.

It is impossible to make an attentive examination of the old Herbals

without being astonished at the extraordinary number and nature of

the ills which their authors professed to cure by means of plants

and simples. Every conceivable disease and ailment appears to be

enumerated, and each has a number of specifics allotted for its

treatment and cure. The contents of these ancient works, indeed, are

apt to heat the imagination, and to cause one to form a conception

that the merrie England of our forefathers was a land swarming with

wild beasts, so venomous in their nature, and ferocious in their

proclivities, that the unfortunate inhabitants were constantly being

grievously maimed and wounded by their malicious “bitings.” Be this

as it may, however, it is evident that the old herbalists deemed

themselves fully equal to any emergency. Leopards, Wolves, and

venomous beasts of all kinds, as well as Dragons, Serpents, Vipers,

and Scorpions, could all, by means of herbs, be driven away, kept at

bay, or killed, and the venom of their bites be quickly and effectually

cured. Such simple things as the stings of Hornets, Wasps, and Bees,

were of course easily extracted by men who professed themselves able

and willing to draw out arrow-heads from wounds, or remove broken

bones, glue them together, and cover them when bare of flesh. They

could provide counterpoisons against deadly medicines, poisoned arrows,

noxious herbs, and the bitings and stingings of venomous creatures;

they could cure the bites of sea Dragons and mad Dogs, and could keep

Dogs from growing great. They could cause troublesome and dangerous

dreams, and they could cure nightmare. They could drive away dulness

and melancholy, and consume proud and superfluous flesh. They could

preserve the eyesight, “helpe blacke eies comming by blowes,” and take

away redness and yellowness. They could prevent the hair falling off,

and restore it to the bald pate, and knew how to turn it yellow, red,

or black. They could cause hens to lay plentifully, and refresh a weary

horse. They could cure lunatics, relieve madness, and purge melancholy;

to say nothing of counteracting witchcraft and the malignant influence

of the mysterious Evil Eye. They could destroy warts, remove freckles,

and beautify young wenches’ faces. In fine, the herbalist of old was one

“Who knew the cause of everie maladie,

Were it of colde or hote, or moist or drie.”

A remarkable characteristic of the herbarists (as they were called of

yore) was a habit of ascribing extraordinary and fabulous properties

to the herbs and plants whose merits they descanted upon. Just as the

Druids taught the people of their time to call the sacred Mistletoe the

“All-heal,” and to look upon it as a panacea for all bodily ailments,

so did the herbalists, in the pages of their ponderous tomes, set

forth the marvellous virtues of Betony, Agrimony, Angelica, Garlic,

Fennel, Sage, Rue, and other favourite medicinal plants. Johannes de

Mediolano, a doctor, of the Academy of Salerno, once wrote of Rue, that

it diminishes the force of love in man, and, on the contrary, increases

the flame in women. When eaten raw, it both clears the sight and the

perceptions of the mind, and when cooked it destroys fleas. The English

herbalists called it Herb Grace and Serving-men’s Joy, because of the

multiplicity of ailments that it was warranted to cure; Mithridates

used the herb as a counterpoison to preserve himself against infection;

and Gerarde records that Serpents are driven away at the smell of

Rue if it be burned, and that “when the Weesell is to fight with the

Serpent, shee armeth herselfe by eating Rue against the might of the

Serpent.” The virtues of Rue, however, are cast into the shade by those

of Sage. Says witty Alphonse Karr--“Rue is nothing in comparison with

Sage. Sage preserves the human race; and the _whole school_ of Salerno,

after a long enumeration of the virtues of Sage, seriously exclaims:

‘How can it happen that a man who has Sage in his garden yet ends by

dying?’” Perhaps this exclamation was the foundation of the English

proverb--

“He that eats Sage in May

Shall live for aye.”

Regarding the wondrous curative properties of Betony, Antonius Musa,

physician to the Emperor Augustus, wrote a volume setting forth the

excellencies of the herb, which he demonstrated would cure no less than

forty-seven different disorders; and in England an old advice to the

sufferer is, “Sell your coat, and buy Betony.” Agrimony is another herb

whose praises were loudly proclaimed by the herbalists; it formed an

ingredient in most of the old-fashioned herb teas, and Drayton speaks

of it as “All-heal, and so named of right.” Of Angelica, or Holy

Ghost, Parkinson writes that it is “so goode an herbe that there is no

part thereof but is of much use.” Fennel, in addition to its uses as

a medicine, was recommended by old writers, when boiled in wine, as

a counterpoison for use by such as had been bitten by those terrible

reptiles, serpents, and scorpions that seem to have so exercised the

ancient herbalists. Treacle-Mustard, or Triacle, was also highly

esteemed as a cure for “all those that were bitten or stung by venomous

beasts, or had drunk poison, or were infected with pestilence: it

formed one of seventy-three ingredients in making “Venice treacle”--a

famous vermifuge and antipoison in the Middle Ages. The Vervain, or

Holy Herb, was credited with almost supernatural healing powers.

English Mercury was called All-good; and other herbs obtained the

names of All-heal, Clown’s All-heal, Self-heal, Poor-man’s Treacle,

Poor-man’s Parmacetty, the Blessed Herb, Grace of God, Master-Wort,

Ploughman’s Spikenard, &c., on account of the numerous virtues which

the herbalists had discovered in them. One of these old worthies (the

compiler of a Herbal, and a believer in astrology) has, indeed, stated

in rhyme, his conviction that there was no disease but what would yield

to the virtues of herbs and the skill of the herbalist. “In his book,”

he confidently says--

“He hath a method plain devised,

All parts of it, so curiously comprised;

That vulgar men, which have but skill to read,

May be their own physicians at need;

The better sort are hereby taught, how all

Things springing from earth’s bowels safely shall

By love or hatred (as the Stars dispose)

Each sickness cure, that in the body grows.”

The poet Michael Drayton has drawn the portrait of an ancient simpler,

and has given a list of the remedies of which he made the most frequent

use; the lines are to be found in his ‘Polyolbion,’ and as they contain

examples of herbs selected under the system of the Doctrine of Plant

Signatures, they may be appropriately introduced at the conclusion of

this chapter:--

“But, absolutely free,

His happy time he spends the works of God to see,

In those so sundry herbs which there in plenty grow,

Whose sundry strange effects he only seeks to know;

And in a little maund, being made of Osiers small,

Which serveth him to do full many a thing withal,

He very choicely sorts his simples, got abroad;

Here finds he on an Oak rheum-purging Polypode;

And in some open place that to the sun doth lie,

He Fumitory gets, and Eyebright for the eye;

The Yarrow wherewithal he stays the wound-made gore,

The healing Tutsan then, and Plantaine for a sore;

And hard by them, again, he holy Vervain finds,

Which he about his head that hath the megrim binds;

The wonder-working Dill he gets not far from these,

Which curious women use in many a nice disease;

For them that are with Newts, or Snakes, or Adders stung

He seeketh out a herb, that is called Adder’s-tongue;

As Nature it ordain’d its own like hurt to cure,

And sportive did herself to niceties inure.

Valerian then he crops, and purposely doth stamp

To apply unto the place that’s haled with the cramp;

The Chickweed cures the heat that in the face doth rise,

For physic some again he inwardly applies;

For comforting the spleen and liver, gets for juice

Pale Horehound, which he holds of most especial use.

And for the labouring wretch that’s troubled with a cough,

Or stopping of the breath by phlegm that’s hard and tough,

Campana here he crops, approved wondrous good;

Or Comfrey unto him that’s bruised, spitting blood;

And for the falling ill by Five-leafe doth restore,

And melancholy cures by sovereign Hellebore:

Of these most helpful herbs yet tell we but a few

To those unnumbered sort of simples here that grew,

What justly to set down even Dodon short doth fall,

Nor skilful Gerarde yet shall ever find them all.”

[Tailpiece]

[Headpiece]

CHAPTER XIV.

Plants and the Planets.

Two centuries ago there existed a very general belief that every plant

was under the direct influence of a particular Planet, and therefore

that all the details connected with its cultivation and utilisation

were to be conducted with a strict regard to this supposition. Aubrey

has recorded his opinion, that if a plant “be not gathered according

to the rules of astrology, it hath little or no virtue in it;” and the

Jesuit Rapin, in his Latin poem on ‘Gardens,’ says, with respect to

flowers--

“This frequent charge I give, whene’er you sow

The flow’ry kind, be studious first to know

The monthly tables, and with heedful eye

Survey the lofty volumes of the sky;

Observe the tokens of foreboding Stars,

What store of wind and rain the Moon prepares;

What weather Eurus or moist Auster blows,

What both in east and west the Sun foreshows;

What aid from Helice the trees obtain,

What from Boötes with his tardy wain;

Whether the wat’ry Pleiades with show’rs

Kindly refresh alone, or drown the flow’rs;

For Stars neglected fatal oft we find,

The Gods to their dominion have assign’d

The products of our earth and labours of mankind.”

Michael Drayton, in whose time the doctrine of planetary influence on

plants was generally accepted, says, in reference to the longevity of

antediluvian men:--

“Besides, in medicine simples had the power

That none need then the planetary hour

To helpe their working, they so juiceful were.”

Culpeper, who was a profound believer in astrology, has given at the

commencement of his ‘British Herbal and Family Physician,’ a list of

some five hundred plants, and the names of the Planets which govern

them; and in his directions as to the plucking of leaves for medical

purposes, the old herbalist and physician remarks:--“Such as are

astrologers (and indeed none else are fit to make physicians) such

I advise: let the planet that governs the herb be angular, and the

stronger the better; if they can, in herbs of Saturn, let Saturn be

in the ascendant; in the herb of Mars, let Mars be in the mid-heaven,

for in those houses they delight; let the Moon apply to them by good

aspect, and let her not be in the houses of her enemies; if you cannot

well stay till she apply to them, let her apply to a Planet of the same

triplicity; if you cannot meet that time neither, let her be with a

fixed Star of their nature.”

The classification of Plants under the planets Saturn, Jupiter, Mars,

Venus, Mercury, the Sun, and the Moon, appears to have been made

according to the Signatures or outward appearances of the plants

themselves. The stalks, stems, branches, roots, foliage, flowers,

odour, taste, native places, death, and medical virtues, were also

considered; and, according to the character of the plant thus deduced,

it was placed under the government of the particular Planet with which

it was considered to be most in consonance.

Plants allotted to SATURN had their _Leaves_: hairy, hard, dry,

parched, coarse, and of ill-favoured appearance. _Flowers_:

Unprepossessing, gloomy, dull, greenish, faded or dirty white, pale

red, invariably hirsute, prickly, and disagreeable. _Roots_: Spreading

widely in the earth and rambling around in discursive fashion. _Odour_:

Fœtid, putrid, muddy.

JUPITER.--_Leaves_: Smooth, even, slightly cut and pointed, the

veins not prominent, and the lines not strongly marked. Colour,

greyish blue-green. _Flowers_: Graceful, pleasing, bright, succulent,

transparent, ruddy, flesh-colour, blue, yellow. _Roots_: Rather small,

with short hairy filaments, spread about in the ground. _Odour_: Highly

subtle, grateful to the brain; the kernels comforting; easily fermented.

MARS.--_Leaves_: Hard, long, somewhat heavy, pointed and pendulous,

harsh and hot to the tongue, not of good appearance. _Flowers_: Of a

colour between yellow, vermilion, or blue, green, purple, red, changing

quickly, abundance of flowers and seeds. _Roots_: Highly fibrous and

creeping underground. _Odour_: Oppressive to the brain, potent, sharp,

acrid.

VENUS.--_Leaves_: Large, handsome, bright, rich green or roseate,

soft, plentiful. _Flowers_: Pleasing to the eyes, white, blue, rosy,

charming, fine, abundant. _Roots_: Of early growth, but not deeply

fixed. Quickly and freely produced. _Odour_: Subtle, delightful,

pungent, refreshing to the brain.

MERCURY.--_Leaves_: Different kinds, but pleasing to the eye.

_Flowers_: Of various descriptions and colours, refreshing, agreeable,

and pleasant. _Roots_: Abiding deep in the earth, and spreading far and

wide. _Odour_: Highly subtle and penetrating, refreshing to the heart

and brain.

THE SUN.--_Leaves_: Succulent, with stout stalks, deeply veined,

pleasant green or tawny, with reddish stalks. _Flowers_: Yellow and

gold, or purple, handsome, glittering, and radiant. _Roots_: Strong,

deeply fixed in the earth, but not laterally. _Odour_: Agreeable,

acceptable, and pungent, strong, restorative to brain and eyes.

THE MOON.--_Leaves_: Pale, highly succulent, pith thick, firm,

strongly-developed veins, bottle-green. _Flowers_: Pale yellow or

greenish, watery, mellifluous, but uninteresting and without beauty.

_Roots_: Penetrating easily through water and earth, not durable,

and easily decayed, spreading neither thickly nor deeply. _Odour_:

Disagreeable, almost none, without pungency, redolent of the earth,

rain, or soft savour of honey.

According to Indian mythology, herbs are placed under the special

protection of Mitra, the Sun. De Gubernatis tells us that there are

several Indian plants named after the great luminary. In the Grecian

Pantheon, the Solar-god, Apollo, possessed a knowledge of all the

herbs. It was to Phœbus, the Sun-god, that poor Clytie lost her heart,

and, when changed into a flower, held firmly by the root, she still

turned to the Sun she loved, “and, changed herself, still kept her

love unchanged.” As to the particular Sunflower, Turnsole, Heliotrope,

or Solsequium that is the floral embodiment of the love-sick nymph,

readers must be referred to the disquisition under the heading

“SUNFLOWER.” De Gubernatis gives it as his opinion, that Clytie’s

flower is the _Helianthemum roseum_ of De Candolle. In a previous

chapter, certain plants have been noticed which were supposed by

the ancients to have been specially under the domination of the Sun

and Moon. According to the dictum of wizards and wise folk, plants

possessing magical properties must as a general rule be gathered,

if not by moonlight, yet at any rate before sunrise, for the first

appearance of the Sun’s rays immediately dispels all enchantment, and

drives back the spirits to their subterranean abodes.

We are told in Deuteronomy xxxiii., 14, that precious things are put

forth by the Moon, but precious fruits by the Sun; and it is certainly

very remarkable that, although mankind in all ages have regarded, and

even worshipped, the Sun as being the supreme and ruling luminary,

from whose glorious life-giving rays, vegetation of all kinds drew its

very existence, yet that an idea should have sprung up, and taken root

widely and deeply, that the growth and decay of plants were associated

intimately with the waxing and waning of the Moon. We have seen how the

plant kingdom was parcelled out by the astrologers, and consigned to

the care of different Planets; but, despite this, the Moon was held to

have a singular and predominant influence over vegetation, and it was

supposed that there existed a sympathy between growing and declining

nature and the Moon’s wax and wane. Bacon seems to have considered that

even the “braine of man waxeth moister and fuller upon the Full of the

Moone;” and, therefore, he continues, “it were good for those that

have moist braines, and are great drinkers, to take fume of Lignum,

Aloes, Rose-Mary, Frankincense, &c., about the Full of the Moone.” He

also tells us, in his Natural History, that “the influences of the Moon

are four: the drawing forth of heat, the inducing of putrefaction, the

moisture, and the exciting of the motions of spirits.”

In respect to this last influence, he goes on to say, “You must note

that the growth of hedges, herbs, haire, &c., is caused from the Moone,

by exciting of the spirits as well as by increase of the moisture.

But for spirits in particular the great instance is lunacies.” This

lunar influence which Bacon speaks of was, as already pointed out,

fully recognised in olden times, and a belief was even current that

the Moon specially watched over vegetation, and that when she was

propitious--that is, during her growth--she produced medicinal herbs;

when she was not propitious--that is to say, during her wane--she

imbued herbs with poisons; her humidity being, perhaps, more injurious

than otherwise.

In old almanacks we find the supremacy of the Moon over the plant

kingdom fully admitted, albeit in a jargon which is rather puzzling.

Thus, in the ‘Husbandman’s Practice or Prognostication for Ever,’

the reader is advised “to set, sow seeds, graft, and plant, the

Moone being in Taurus, Virgo, or Capricorne, and all kinds of Corne

in Cancer, to graft in March, at the Moone’s increase, she being in

Taurus or Capricorne.” Again, in Mr. Wing’s Almanack for 1661, occurs

the following passage:--“It is a common observation in astrology, and

confirmed by experience, that what Corn or tree soever are set or

sown when the Sun or Moon is eclipsed, and the infortunate planets

predominate, seldom or never come to good. And again he saith thus:--It

is a common and certain observation also, that if any corn, seed, or

plant be either set or sown within six hours either before or after the

full Moon in Summer, or before or after the new Moon in Winter, having

joined with the cosmical rising of Arcturus and Orion, the Hædi and the

Siculi, it is subject to blasting and canker.”

As an illustration of the predominance given to the Moon over the other

planets in matters pertaining to plant culture, it is worth noticing

that, although Culpeper, in his ‘Herbal,’ places the Apple under Venus,

yet the Devonshire farmers have from time immemorial made it a rule to

gather their Apples for storing at the wane of the Moon; the reason

being that, during the Moon’s increase, it is thought that the Apples

are full, and will not therefore keep. It is said that if timber be

felled when the Moon is on the increase, it will decay; and that it

should always be cut when the Moon is on the wane. No reason can be

assigned for this; yet the belief is common in many countries, and what

is still more strange, professional woodcutters, whose occupation is to

fell timber, aver, as the actual result of their observation, that the

belief is well founded. It was formerly interwoven in the Forest Code

of France, and, unless expunged by recent alterations, is so still.

The same opinion obtains in the German forests, and is said to be held

in those of Brazil and Yucatan. The theory given to account for this

supposed fact is, that as the Moon grows, the sap rises, and the wood

is therefore less dense than when the Moon is waning, because at that

time the sap declines. The belief in the Moon’s influence as regards

timber extends to vegetables, and was at one time universal in England,

although, at the present day, the theory is less generally entertained

in our country than abroad, where they act upon the maxim that root

crops should be planted when the Moon is decreasing, and plants such

as Beans, Peas, and others, which bear the crops on their branches,

between new and full Moon. Throughout Germany, the rule is that Rye

should be sown as the Moon waxes; but Barley, Wheat, and Peas, when it

wanes.

The wax and wane of the belief in lunar influence on plant-life among

our own countrymen may be readily traced by reference to old books on

husbandry and gardening.

In ‘The Boke of Husbandry,’ by Mayster Fitzherbarde, published in 1523,

we read with respect to the sowing of Peas, that “moste generally to

begyn sone after Candelmasse is good season, so that they be sowen ere

the begynnynge of Marche, or sone upon. And specially let them be sowen

in the olde of the Mone. For the opinion of old husbandes is, that they

shoulde be better codde, and sooner be rype.”

Tusser, in his ‘Five Hundred Points of Husbandry,’ published in 1562,

says, in his quaint verse--

“Sowe Peason and Beans in the wane of the Moone,

Who soweth them sooner, he soweth too soone;

That they with the planet may rest and rise,

And flourish with bearing, most plentiful wise.”

Commenting on that “Point,” the editor of an edition of Tusser’s poem

printed in 1744, says: “It must be granted the Moon is an excellent

clock, and if not the cause of many surprising accidents, gives a just

indication of them, whereof this Pease and Beans may be one instance;

for Pease and Beans sown during the increase do run more to hawm or

straw, and during the declension more to cod, according to the common

consent of countrymen.” Again, as regards grafting, old Tusser writes:--

“In March is good graffing, the skilful do know,

So long as the wind in the East do not blow,

From Moone being changed, til past be the prime,

For graffing and cropping is very good time.”

The editor remarks: “The Prime is the first three days after the New

Moon, in which time, or at farthest during the first quarter, our

author confines his graffing, probably because the first three days

are usually attended with rain.” He confesses, however, he cannot

explain the following couplet:--

“The Moone in the wane gather fruit for to last,

But winter fruit gather when Michel is past.”

In the ‘Garden of Eden,’ an old gardening book compiled and issued

by Sir Hugh Plat, Knt., in the year 1600, constant allusions are

made to the necessity of studying the Moon’s phases in gardening and

grafting operations. The worthy knight considered that the Moon would

exercise her powers in making single flowers double if only she were

respectfully courted. His counsel on this point is as follows:--“Remove

a plant of Stock Gilliflowers when it is a little woodded, and not too

greene, and water it presently. Doe this three dayes after the full,

and remove it twice more before the change. Doe this in barren ground;

and likewise, three dayes after the next full Moone, remove again; and

then remove once more before the change. Then at the third full Moon,

viz., eight dayes after, remove againe, and set it in very rich ground,

and this will make it to bring forth a double flower; but if your Stock

Gilliflowers once spindle, then you may not remove them. Also you

must make Tulippes double in this manner. Some think by cutting them

at every full Moone before they beare to make them at length to beare

double.”

In ‘The Countryman’s Recreation’ (1640) the author fully recognises

the obligation of gardeners to study the Moon in all their principal

operations. Says he: “From the first day of the new Moone unto the

xiii. day thereof is good for to plant, or graffe, or sow, and for

great need some doe take unto the xvii. or xviii. day thereof, and

not after, neither graffe nor sow, but as is afore-mentioned, a

day or two afore the change, the best signes are Taurus, Virgo, or

Capricorne.” And as regards the treatment of fruit trees, he tells us

that “trees which come of Nuttes” should be set in the Autumn “in the

change or increase of the Moone;” certain grafting manipulations are

to be executed “in the increase of the Moone and not lightly after;”

fruit, if it is desired of good colour and untouched by frost, ought

to be gathered “when the time is faire and dry, and the Moone in her

decreasing;” whilst “if ye will cut or gather Grapes, to have them

good, and to have good wine thereof, ye shall cut them in the full, or

soone after the full, of the Moone, when she is in Cancer, in Leo, in

Scorpio, and in Aquarius, the Moone being on the waine and under the

earth.”

In ‘The Expert Gardener’ (1640)--a work stated to be “faithfully

collected out of sundry Dutch and French authors”--a chapter is

entirely devoted to the times and seasons which should be selected “to

sow and replant all manner of seeds,” with special reference to the

phases of the Moon. As showing how very general must have been the

belief in the influence of the Moon on vegetation at that time, the

following extract is given:--

_A short Instruction very profitable and necessary for all those that

delight in Gardening, to know the Times and Seasons when it is good

to sow and replant all manner of Seeds._

Cabbages must be sowne in February, March, or April, at the waning of

the Moone, and replanted also in the decrease thereof.

Cabbage Lettuce, in February, March, or July, in an old Moone.

Onions and Leeks must be sowne in February or March, at the waning of

the Moone.

Beets must be sowne in February or March, in a full Moone.

Coleworts white and greene in February, or March, in an old Moone, it

is good to replant them.

Parsneps must be sowne in February, April, or June, also in an old

Moone.

Radish must be sowne in February, March, or June, in a new Moone.

Pompions must be sowne in February, March, or June, also in a new

Moone.

Cucumbers and Mellons must be sowne in February, March, or June, in

an old Moone.

Spinage must be sowne in February or March, in an old Moone.

Parsley must be sowne in February or March, in a full Moone.

Fennel and Annisseed must be sowne in February or March, in a full

Moone.

White Cycory must be sowne in February, March, July, or August, in a

full Moone.

Carduus Benedictus must be sowne in February, March, or May, when the

Moone is old.

Basil must be sowne in March, when the Moone is old.

Purslane must be sowne in February or March, in a new Moone.

Margeram, Violets, and Time must be sowne in February, March, or

April, in a new Moone.

Floure-gentle, Rosemary, and Lavender, must be sowne in February or

April, in a new Moone.

Rocket and Garden Cresses must be sowne in February, in a new Moone.

Savell must be sowne in February or March, in a new Moone.

Saffron must be sowne in March, when the Moone is old.

Coriander and Borage must be sowne in February or March, in a new

Moone.

Hartshorne and Samphire must be sowne in February, March, or April,

when the Moone is old.

Gilly-floures, Harts-ease, and Wall-floures, must be sowne in March

or April, when the Moone is old.

Cardons and Artochokes must be sowne in April or March, when the

Moone is old.

Chickweed must be sowne in February or March, in the full of the

Moone.

Burnet must be sowne in February or March, when the Moone is old.

Double Marigolds must be sowne in February or March, in a new Moone.

Isop and Savorie must be sowne in March when the Moone is old.

White Poppey must be sowne in February or March, in a new Moone.

Palma Christi must be sowne in February, in a new Moone.

Sparages and Sperage is to be sowne in February, when the Moone is

old.

Larks-foot must be sowne in February, when the Moone is old.

Note that at all times and seasons, Lettuce, Raddish, Spinage and

Parsneps may be sowne.

Note, also, from cold are to be kept Coleworts, Cabbage, Lettuce,

Basill, Cardons, Artochokes, and Colefloures.

In ‘The English Gardener’ (1683) and ‘The Dutch Gardener’ (1703) many

instructions are given as to the manner of treating plants with

special regard to the phases of the Moon; and Rapin, in his poem on

Gardens, has the following lines:--

“If you with flow’rs would stock the pregnant earth,

Mark well the Moon propitious to their birth:

For earth the silent midnight queen obeys,

And waits her course, who, clad in silver rays,

Th’ eternal round of times and seasons guides,

Controls the air, and o’er the winds presides.

Four days expir’d you have your time to sow,

Till to the full th’ increasing Moon shall grow;

This past, your labour you in vain bestow:

Nor let the gard’ner dare to plant a flow’r

While on his work the heav’ns ill-boding low’r;

When Moons forbid, forbidding Moons obey,

And hasten when the Stars inviting beams display.”

John Evelyn, in his ‘Sylva, or a Discourse on Forest Trees,’ first

published in 1662, remarks on the attention paid by woodmen to the

Moon’s influence on trees. He says: “Then for the age of the Moon, it

has religiously been observed; and that Diana’s presidency _in sylvis_

was not so much celebrated to credit the fictions of the poets, as for

the dominion of that moist planet and her influence over timber. For

my part, I am not so much inclined to these criticisms, that I should

altogether govern a felling at the pleasure of this mutable lady;

however, there is doubtless some regard to be had--

‘Nor is’t in vain signs’ fall and rise to note.’

The old rules are these: Fell in the decrease, or four days after

the conjunction of the two great luminaries; sowe the last quarter

of it; or (as Pliny) in the very article of the change, if possible;

which hapning (saith he) in the last day of the Winter solstice, that

timber will prove immortal. At least should it be from the twentieth

to the thirtieth day, according to Columella; Cato, four days after

the full, as far better for the growth; nay, Oak in the Summer: but

all vimineous trees, _silente lunâ_, such as Sallows, Birch, Poplar,

&c. Vegetius, for ship timber, from the fifteenth to the twenty-fifth,

the Moon as before.” In his ‘French Gardener,’ a translation from

the French, Evelyn makes a few allusions to the Moon’s influence on

gardening and grafting operations, and in his _Kalendarium Hortense_

we find him acknowledging its supremacy more than once; but he had

doubtless begun to lose faith in the scrupulous directions bequeathed

by the Romans. In his introduction to the ‘Kalendar’ he says:--“We are

yet far from imposing (by any thing we have here alledged concerning

these menstrual periods) those nice and hypercritical punctillos

which some astrologers, and such as pursue these rules, seem to

oblige our gard’ners to; as if forsooth all were lost, and our pains

to no purpose, unless the sowing and the planting, the cutting and

the pruning, were performed in such and such an exact minute of

the Moon: _In hac autem ruris disciplina non desideratur ejusmodi

scrupulositas._ [Columella]. There are indeed some certain seasons and

_suspecta tempora_, which the prudent gard’ner ought carefully (as much

as in him lies) to prevent: but as to the rest, let it suffice that he

diligently follow the observations which (by great industry) we have

collected together, and here present him.”

The opinion of John Evelyn, thus expressed, doubtless shook the faith

of gardeners in the efficacy of lunar influence on plants, and, as a

rule, we find no mention of the Moon in the instructions contained in

the gardening books published after his death. It is true that Charles

Evelyn, in ‘The Pleasure and Profit of Gardening Improved’ (1717)

directs that Stock Gilliflower seeds should be sown at the full of the

Moon in April, and makes several other references to the influence of

the Moon on these plants; but this is an exception to the general rule,

and in ‘The Retired Gardener,’ a translation from the French of Louis

Liger, printed in 1717, the ancient belief in the Moon’s supremacy in

the plant kingdom received its death-blow. The work referred to was

published under the direction of London and Wise, Court Nurserymen to

Queen Anne, and in the first portion of it, which is arranged in the

form of a conversation between a gentleman and his gardener, occurs the

following passage:--

_Gent._--“I have heard several old gardeners say that vigorous trees

ought to be prun’d in the Wane, and those that are more sparing of

their shoots in the Increase. Their reason is, that the pruning by

no means promotes the fruit if it be not done in the Wane. They add

that the reason why some trees are so long before they bear fruit is,

because they were planted or grafted either in the Increase or Full

of the Moon.”

_Gard._--“Most of the old gardeners were of that opinion, and there

are some who continue still to be misled by the same error. But

’tis certain that they bear no ground for such an imagination, as

I have observ’d, having succeeded in my gardening without such a

superstitious observation of the Moon. However, I don’t urge this

upon my own authority, but refer my self to M. de la Quintinie, who

deserves more to be believed than my self. These are his words:--

‘I solemnly declare [saith he] that after a diligent observation

of the Moon’s changes for thirty years together, and an enquiry

whether they had any influence on gardening, the affirmation of which

has been so long established among us, I perceiv’d that it was no

weightier than old wives’ tales, and that it has been advanc’d by

unexperienc’d gardeners.’

“And a little after: ‘I have therefore follow’d what appear’d most

reasonable, and rejected what was otherwise. In short, graft in what

time of the Moon you please, if your graft be good, and grafted in a

proper stock, provided you do it like an artist, you will be sure to

succeed.... In the same manner [continues he] sow what sorts of grain

you please, and plant as you please, in any Quarter of the Moon, I’ll

answer for your success; the first and last day of the Moon being

equally favourable.’ This is the opinion of a man who must be allow’d

to have been the most experienc’d in this age.”

Plants of the Moon.

The Germans call _Mondveilchen_ (Violet of the Moon), the _Lunaria

annua_, the _Leucoion_, also known as the Flower of the Cow, that is

to say, of the cow Io, one of the names of the Moon. The old classic

legend relates that this daughter of Inachus, because she was beloved

by Jupiter, fell under the jealous displeasure of Juno, and was much

persecuted by her. Jupiter therefore changed his beautiful mistress

into the cow Io, and at his request, Tellus (the Earth) caused a

certain herb (_Salutaris_, the herb of Isis) to spring up, in order to

provide for the metamorphosed nymph suitable nourishment. In the Vedic

writings, the Moon is represented as slaying monsters and serpents,

and it is curious to note that the Moonwort (_Lunaria_), Southernwood

(_Artemisia_), and Selenite (from _Selene_, a name of the Moon), are

all supposed to have the power of repelling serpents. Plutarch, in his

work on rivers, tells us that near the river Trachea grew a herb called

Selenite, from the foliage of which trickled a frothy liquid with which

the herdsmen anointed their feet in the Spring in order to render them

impervious to the bites of serpents. This foam, says De Gubernatis,

reminds one of the dew which is found in the morning sprinkled over

herbs and plants, and which the ancient Greeks regarded as a gift of

the nymphs who accompanied the goddess Artemis, or Diana, the lunar

deity.

Numerous Indian plants are named after the Moon, the principal being

the _Cardamine_; the _Cocculus cordifolius_ (the Moon’s Laughter); a

species of _Solanum_ called the Flower of the Moon; the _Asclepias

acida_, the _Somalatâ_, the plant that produces Soma; Sandal-wood

(beloved of the Moon); Camphor (named after the Moon); the _Convolvulus

Turpethum_, called the Half-Moon; and many other plants named after

Soma, a lunar synonym.

In a Hindu poem, the Moon is called the fructifier of vegetation and

the guardian of the celestial ambrosia, and it is not surprising

therefore to find that in India the mystic Moon-tree, the Soma, the

tree which produces the divine and immortalising ambrosia is worshipped

as the lunar god. Soma, the moon-god, produces the revivifying dew of

the early morn; _Soma_, the Moon-tree, the exhilarating ambrosia. The

Moon is cold and humid: it is from her the plants receive their sap,

says Prof. De Gubernatis, “and thanks to the Moon that they multiply,

and that vegetation prospers. There is nothing very wonderful,

therefore, if the movements of the Moon preside in a general way over

agricultural operations, and if it exercises a special influence on the

health and _accouchements_ of women, who are said to represent Water,

the humid element. The Roman goddess Lucina (the Moon) presided over

_accouchements_, and had under her care the Dittany and the Mugwort [or

Motherwort] (_Artemisia_, from Artemis, the lunar goddess), considered,

like the Vedic _Soma_, to be the queen or mother of the herbs.”

Thus Macer says of it:--

“_Herbarum matrem justum puto ponere primo;

Præcipue morbis muliebribus illa medetur._”

This influence of the Moon over the female portion of the human race

has led to a class of plants being associated either directly with

the luminary or with the goddesses who were formerly thought to

impersonate or embody it. Thus we find the _Chrysanthemum leucanthemum_

named the Moon Daisy, because its shape resembles the pictures of a

full moon, the type of a class of plants which Dr. Prior points out,

“on the Doctrine of Signatures, were exhibited in uterine complaints,

and dedicated in pagan times to the goddess of the Moon and regulator

of monthly periods, Artemis, whom Horsley (on Hosea ix., 10) would

identify with Isis, the goddess of the Egyptians, with Juno Lucina, and

with Eileithuia, a deity who had special charge over the functions of

women--an office in Roman Catholic mythology assigned to Mary Magdalene

and Margaret.” The Costmary, or Maudeline-wort (_Balsamita vulgaris_);

the Maghet, or May-weed (_Pyrethrum Parthenium_); the Mather, or

Maydweed (_Anthemis Cotula_); the Daisy, or Marguerite (_Bellis

perennis_); the _Achillea Matricaria_, &c., are all plants which come

under the category of lunar herbs in their connection with feminine

complaints.

The Man in the Moon.

Chaucer describes the Moon as Lady Cynthia:--

“Her gite was gray and full of spottis blake,

And on her brest a chorle paintid ful even

Bearing a bush of Thornis on his bake

Which for his theft might climb no ner the heven.”

Allusion is here made to the Man in the Moon, bearing a Thorn-bush

on his shoulders--one of the most widely-diffused superstitions

still extant. It is curious that, in several legends respecting this

inhabitant of the Moon, he is represented as having been engaged, when

on earth, in gardening operations. Kuhn relates a tradition in the

Havel country. One Christmas Eve, a peasant felt a great desire to eat

a Cabbage; and, having none himself, he slipped stealthily into his

neighbour’s garden to cut some. Just as he had filled his basket, the

Christ Child rode past on his white horse, and said: “Because thou

hast stolen in the holy night, thou shalt immediately sit in the Moon

with thy basket of Cabbage.” At Paderhorn, in Westphalia, the crime

committed was not theft, but hindering people from attending church

on Easter-Day, by placing a Thorn-bush in the field-gate through

which they had to pass. In the neighbourhood of Wittingen, the man is

said to have been exiled to the Moon because he tied up his brooms

on Maunday Thursday; and at Deilinghofen, of having mown the Grass

in his meadows on Sunday. A Swabian mother at Derendingen will tell

her child that a man was once working in his vineyard on Sunday, and

after having pruned all his Vines, he made a bundle of the shoots he

had just cut off, laid it in his basket, and went home. According to

one version, the Vine-shoots were stolen from a neighbour’s Vineyard.

When taxed either with Sabbath-breaking or with the theft, the culprit

loudly protested his innocence, and at length exclaimed: “If I have

committed this crime, may I be sent to the Moon!” After his death this

fate duly befell him, and there he remains to this day. The Black

Forest peasants relate that a certain man stole a bundle of wood on

Sunday because he thought on that day he should be unmolested by the

foresters. However, on leaving the forest, he met a stranger, who was

no other than the Almighty himself. After reproving the thief for not

keeping the Sabbath-day holy, God said he must be punished, but he

might choose whether he would be banished to the Sun or to the Moon.

The man chose the latter, declaring he would rather freeze in the Moon

than burn in the Sun; and so the Broom-man came into the Moon with his

faggot on his back. At Hemer, in Westphalia, the legend runs that a man

was engaged in fencing his garden on Good Friday, and had just poised

a bundle of Thorns on his fork when he was at once transported to the

Moon. Some of the Hemer peasants, however, declare that the Moon is

not only inhabited by a man with a Thorn-bush and pitchfork, but also

by his wife, who is churning, and was exiled to the Moon for using

a churn on Sunday. According to other traditions, the figure in the

Moon is that of Isaac bearing the faggot on his shoulders for his own

sacrifice on Mount Moriah; or Cain with a bundle of Briars; or a tipsy

man who for his audacity in threatening the Moon with a Bramble he held

in his hand, was drawn up to this planet, and has remained there to the

present day.

[Tailpiece]

[Headpiece]

CHAPTER XV.

Plant Symbolism and Language.

The antiquity of floral emblems probably dates from the time when

the human heart first beat with the gentle emotions of affection or

throbbed with the wild pulsations of love. Then it was that man sought

to express through the instrumentality of flowers his love of purity

and beauty, or to typify through their aid the ardour of his passionate

desires; for the symbolism of flowers, it has been conjectured, was

first conceived as a parable speaking to the eye and thence teaching

the heart.

Driven, in his struggle for existence, to learn the properties of

plants in order to obtain wholesome food, man found that with the

beauty of their form and colour they spoke lovingly to him. They could

be touched, tasted, handled, planted, sown, and reaped: they were

useful, easily converted into simple articles of clothing, or bent,

twisted, and cut into weapons and tools. Flowers became a language

to man very early, and according to their poisonous, soothing, or

nutritious qualities, or on account of some peculiarities in their

growth or shape which seemed to tell upon the mysteries of life, birth,

and death, he gave them names which thenceforth became words and

symbols to him of these phenomena.

Glimpses of the ancient poetical plant symbolism have been found amid

the ruins of temples, graven on the sides of rocks, and inscribed on

the walls of mighty caves where the early nations of India, Assyria,

Chaldæa, and Egypt knelt in adoration. The Chinese from time immemorial

have known a comprehensive system of floral signs and emblems, and

the Japanese have ever possessed a mode of communicating by symbolic

flowers. Persian literature abounds in chaste and poetical allegories,

which demonstrate the antiquity of floral symbolism in that far Eastern

land: thus we are told that Sadi the poet, when a slave, presented to

his tyrant master a Rose accompanied with this pathetic appeal:--“Do

good to thy servant whilst thou hast the power, for the season of power

is often as transient as the duration of this beautiful flower.”

The beauty of the symbol melted the heart of his lord, and the slave

obtained his liberty.

The Hindu races are passionately fond of flowers, and their ancient

Sanscrit books and poems are full of allusions to their beauty and

symbolic character. With them, the flower of the field is venerated

as a symbol of fecundity. In their mythology, at the beginning of all

things there appeared in the waters the expanded Lotus-blossom, the

emblematic flower of life and light; the Sun, Moon, and Stars are

flowers in the celestial garden; the Sun’s ray is a full-blown Rose,

which springs from the waters and feeds the sacrificial fire; the

Lightning is a garland of flowers thrown by Narada. _Pushpa_ (flower),

or _Pushpaka_ (flowery), is the epithet applied to the luminous car

of the god Kuvera, which was seized by Râvana, the royal monster of

Lankâ, and recaptured by the demi-god Râma, the incarnation of Vishnu.

The bow of Kâma, the Indian Cupid, darts forth flowers in the guise of

arrows. The Indian poetic lover gathers from the flowers a great number

of chaste and beautiful symbols. The following description of a young

maiden struck down by illness is a fair example of this:--“All of a

sudden the blighting glance of unpropitious fortune having fallen on

that Rose-cheeked Cypress, she laid her head on the pillow of sickness;

and in the flower-garden of her beauty, in place of the Damask Rose,

sprang up the branch of the Saffron. Her fresh Jasmine, from the

violence of the burning illness, lost its moisture, and her Hyacinth,

full of curls, lost all its endurance from the fever that consumed her.”

It was with the classic Greeks, however, that floral symbolism reached

its zenith: not only did the Hellenic race entertain an extraordinary

passion for flowers, but with consummate skill they devised a code

of floral types and emblems adapted to all phases of public and

private life. As Loudon writes, when speaking of the emblematic use

made by the Greeks of flowers:--“Not only were they then, as now, the

ornament of a beauty, and of the altars of the gods, but the youths

crowned themselves with them in the fêtes, the priests in religious

ceremonies, and the guests in convivial meetings. Garlands of flowers

were suspended from the gates of the city in the times of rejoicing ...

the philosophers wore crowns of flowers, and the warriors ornamented

their foreheads with them in times of triumph.” The Romans, although

they adopted most of the floral symbolic lore of their Hellenic

predecessors, and in the case of emblematic garlands were particularly

refined, were still evidently not so passionately fond of floral

symbolism as were the Greeks; and with the decadence of the Empire, the

attractive art gradually fell into oblivion.

The science of plant symbolism may, if we accept the views of Miss

Marshall, a writer on the subject,[16] be classified into five

divisions. These are, firstly, plants which are symbols, pure and

simple, of the Great Unknown God, or Heaven Father; and embrace those,

the form, colour, or other peculiarities of which led the priests,

the early thinkers to the community, the medicine-men, magicians, and

others, to associate them with ideas of the far-distant, unknown,

incomprehensible, and overwhelming--the destructive forces of Nature.

Such plants were used as hieroglyphics for these ideas, and became

symbols of the Deity or Supreme Power. To these visible symbols belong

plants such as the Lily, Onion, flowers of heavenly blue colour

(symbolising the blue sky), and leaves threefold or triangular,

symbolising God the Creator, Preserver, and Destroyer.

[16] ‘Plant Symbolism,’ in ‘Natural History Notes,’ Vol. II.

Secondly, the plants symbolising or suggesting portions or organs

of the human body, internal and external, which to the earliest of

mankind, and certainly to the Egyptian embalmers, were organs of

mystery and importance; such is the heart, the first to beat in the

fœtal, and the last to cease pulsating in the adult organism, &c. To

this section belong heart-shaped leaves and petals; and where, as in

the Shamrock, there is united the threefold emblem and the heart-shaped

leaf, there is a doubly sacred idea united with the form. To this

section belong also plants and fruits such as the Fig, Pomegranate, &c.

The third section comprises plants that were consecrated or set apart

as secret and sacred, because those who possessed the knowledge of

their powers made use of them to awe the ignorant people of their race.

These plants were supposed to be under the control of the good or

evil powers. They were the narcotics, the stupefying or the exciting

vegetable drugs. The sacred incense in all temples was compounded of

these, and their use has been, and still is, common to all countries;

and as some of these compounds produced extraordinary or deadly

effects, as the very dust of the burnt incense, when mixed with water,

and drunk, brought on a violent and agonising death, while the fumes

might merely produce delightful and enticing ecstacy, making men

and women eloquent and seemingly inspired, the knowledge was wisely

kept secret from the people, and severe penalties--sometimes even

death--awaited those who illegally imitated, compounded, or used these

drugs. To this section belong the plants used to make the Chinese and

Japanese joss, as well as Opium, Tobacco, Stramonium, and various

opiates now well known.

The fourth section comprises those plants which in all countries have

been observed to bear some resemblance to parts of the human body.

Such plants were valued and utilised as heaven-sent guides in the

treatment of the ills flesh is heir to; and they are the herbs whose

popular names among the inhabitants of every land have become “familiar

in their mouths as household words.” To such belong the Birth-wort,

Kidney-wort, Lung-wort, Liver-wort, Pile-wort, Nit-grass, Tooth-cress,

Heart-clover, and many others known to the ancient herbalists. It was

their endeavours to find out whether or no the curious forms, spots,

and markings of such plants really indicated their curative powers,

that led to the properties of other herbs being discovered, and a

suggestive nomenclature being adopted for them, such as is found in the

names Eyebright, Flea-bane, Canker-weed, Hunger-grass, Stone-break, &c.

Lastly, in the fifth section of symbolical plants we come to those

which point to a time when symbols were expressed by letters, such

as appear on the Martagon Lily--the true poetical Hyacinth of the

Greeks--on the petals of which are traced the woeful AI, AI,--the

expression of the grief of Phœbus at the death of the fair Adonis.

“In the flower he weaved

The sad impression of his sighs; which bears

_Ai_, _Ai_, displayed in funeral characters.”

In this section also are included plants which exhibit in some portion

of their structure typical markings, such as the _Astragalus_, which in

its root depicts the stars; the Banana, whose fruit, when cut, exhibits

a representation of the Holy Cross; and the Bracken Fern, whose stem,

when sliced, exhibits traces of letters which are sometimes used for

the purposes of love divination. In Ireland, however, the _Pteris

aquilina_ is called the Fern of God, because the people imagine that

if the stem be cut into three sections, on the first of these sections

will be seen the letter G, on the second O, and on the third D--forming

the sacred word God.

In the science of plant symbols, not only the names, but the forms,

perfumes, and properties of plants have to be considered, as well

as the numerical arrangements of their parts. Thus of all sacred

symbolical plants, those consisting of petals or calyx-sepals, or

leaves, divided into the number Five, were formerly held in peculiar

reverence, because among the races of antiquity five was for ages a

sacred number. The reason of this is thus explained by Bunsen:--“It

is well known,” he says, “that the numeral _one_, the undivided, the

eternal, is placed in antithesis to all other numerals. The figure four

included the perfect ten, as 1+2+3+4=10. So four represents the All

of the universe. Now if we put these together, 4+1 will be the sign

of the whole God-Universe.” _Three_ is a number sacred to the most

ancient as well as modern worship. Pythagoras called it the perfect

number, expressive of “beginning, middle, and end,” and therefore he

made it a symbol of deity. _Three_ therefore plays its _rôle_ in plant

symbology. Thus the _Emblica officinalis_, one of the sacred plants of

India, was once the exclusive property of the priests, who kept its

medicinal virtues secret: it was held in peculiar reverence because of

its flowers possessing a six-parted calyx; three stamens, combined;

three dichotomous styles; a fleshy fruit, tricoccous and six-seeded;

these being all the sacred or double number of _Three_. In later days,

the Shamrock or Trefoil, and the Pansy, or Herb Trinity, were regarded

as symbolising the Trinity. Cruciform flowers are, at the present day,

all regarded as of good omen, having been marked with the Sign of the

Cross, and thus symbolising Redemption.

The presence of flowers as symbols and language on the monuments of

Assyria, Babylon, Egypt, India, and other countries of the past,

and the graceful floral adornments sculptured on the temples of the

Græco-Roman period, demonstrate how great a part flower and plant

symbolism played in the early history of mankind. The Jews, learning

the art from the Egyptians, preserved it in their midst, and introduced

plant emblems in their Tabernacle, in their Temple, and on the garments

of the priests. Flowers with golden rays became symbols of the Sun;

and as the Sun was the giver of life and warmth, the bringer of

fertility, the symbolic flowers stood as symbol-words for these great

gifts; and gradually all the mysterious phenomena connected with birth,

reproduction, and fecundity, were represented in plant, flower, and

fruit symbolism; for not only were flowers early used as a pictorial

language, but the priests made use of fruits, herbs, shrubs, and trees

to symbolise light, life, warmth, and generation. Let us take a few

examples:--When in the Spring, church altars and fonts are piously

adorned with white Lilies, which are, in some countries, carried about,

worn, and presented by ladies to each other in the month of May, few

of them, we may be sure, imagine that they are perpetuating the plant

symbolism of the Sun-worship of ancient Egypt. Miss Marshall tells us

that “in Catholic countries the yellow anthers are carefully removed;

their white filaments alone are left, not, as folks think, that the

flower may remain pure white, but that the fecundating or male organs

being removed, the Lilies may be true flower symbols or visible words

for pure virgins; for the white dawn as yet unwedded to the day--for

the pure cold Spring as yet yielding no blossoms and Summer fruits.”