MYSTICISM IN THE PLANT WORLD
“_Who passeth by the Rosemarie
And careth not to take the spraye,
For woman’s love no care has he,
Nor shall he though he live for aye._”
One day John G. Allen of Cherry, Arizona, went fishing along a small
tributary of the River Verde. His skill with the rod seeming to fail
him, he decided to make his outing profitable in other directions by
hunting through some neighbouring cliff-dwellings for pottery. While
wandering through those ancient and curious abodes, he accidentally
discovered a section of wall which looked as though it might have
been built to close a former opening. Careful investigation revealed
the truth of this surmise, for, with a little perseverance, he broke
through and removed enough stone to admit his body into a small room or
recess, which contained some pottery and household utensils of extreme
age.
In one corner of this prehistoric place, Mr. Allen discovered a few
Corn cobs and about a dozen Squash seeds. More as a joke than anything
else, he planted twelve of the seeds the next spring.
Eleven of them remained insensate to the revivifying influence of
earth, sun and water, but the twelfth took courage and, bursting the
walls which had imprisoned it for hundreds and possibly thousands of
years, sprang up into a hardy, healthy vine, which eventually bore a
huge, green, extremely warty Squash weighing nearly twenty-five pounds.
This vegetable visitor from a shadowy age was named the “Aztec,” and
attained great fame.
There have been other and more striking instances of the suspended
animation which permits plant life to lie quiescent for countless
centuries, ready for an opportune time to resume the regular cycle of
its existence. There are those who are always ready to cry “fraud,” and
conclusively prove these marvels false, but there is abundant evidence
to show that plant embryos can and, in some cases, do survive long
periods of time.
What a lesson lies in such phenomena! The power that can keep alive and
unchanged the cells of a vegetable seed so many centuries is not likely
to allow the soul of a man to perish. What an argument for immortality!
What a breeder of strange and mysterious thoughts!
There is much mysticism in the plant world. What man does not
understand, he either holds in awe or contempt. The plants are too
often treated with good-humoured derision, but among higher minds,
their unintelligible factors give them a greater fascination--a mystery
and a psychic interest which is very alluring.
The plants seem to be closer in tune with Nature than man. They place
themselves under her direct tutelage, and are extremely sensitive to
her various moods and fancies. They respond to influences of weather
and time with remarkable alacrity. The scarlet Pimpernel in particular,
is an excellent barometer. At the least indication of rain, it folds
its petals together in snug security, and, contrary to human beings,
closes instead of opens the umbrella of its body. On a rainy day, it
never unfolds at all, so eager is it to keep its petals dry.
“No heart can think, no tongue can tell,
The virtues of the Pimpernell.”
The greatest of all floral barometers is the Weather-Plant or Indian
Licorice (_Abrus Precatorius_). So keenly sensitive to all atmospheric
conditions is this plant that it may be used to foretell cyclones,
hurricanes, earthquakes, and even volcanic eruptions. Its small,
rose-like leaves are in continual motion, which varies noticeably under
different electrical and magnetic influences. The Austrian Professor
Norwack, working at his Weather-Plant Observatory at Kew Gardens,
London, once used it to predict a disastrous fire-damp explosion.
Many flowers show a remarkable appreciation of the passage of time and
open and close at regular hours each day. In fact, a close student
of floral habits can actually tell the time of day by watching the
actions of the flowers around him. It is said that the Swedish botanist
Linnaeus once built himself a flower clock, arranged to count the
passing hours by the folding and unfolding of different blossoms. One
does not really need to go to this trouble. The common flowers of
the field and garden are all accurate time-pieces. Long before the
rising of the sun their activity begins; in fact even the night hours
are all noticed by certain more obscure plants. Along about three in
the morning, the dainty Goat’s-Beard wakes from sleep and spreads
its petals. Promptly at four o’clock the Dandelion begins its day’s
work. The Naked Stalked Poppy, the copper-coloured Day-Lily and the
smooth Sow-Thistle are five o’clock risers. The Field Marigold is a
slug-a-bed, and does not blink its sleepy eyes at the sun until ten
o’clock. The Ice-Plant throws back its downy coverlets exactly at noon.
Shortly after mid-day, the early risers begin to get tired, and
prepare to sleep through the heat of the afternoon. Beginning with the
Hawkweed Picris shortly after noon, and extending to the bed-time of
the Chickweed at ten at night, every quarter hour sees the retirement
of some particular flower. After sundown, the night owls make their
appearance, and such plants as the Night-Blooming Cereus, the
Moonflower, and the Datura check off the fleeting minutes. How can this
marvelous acquaintance with the passage of time be explained in terms
of cold materialism?
Among plants which show a well-developed sense of direction, the
Compass-Plant is probably the most remarkable. Its flowers, and
sometimes the edges of its leaves, always point toward the north with
the certainty of a magnet. Travelers have been known to use it as a
natural guide.
A great many plants perform remarkable acts which can only be explained
by the possession of some measure of psychic sense or quality. Thus,
a climbing plant in need of a prop will creep along the ground toward
the nearest vertical support. If the support is shifted, the vine will
promptly change the direction of its progress, and eventually reach the
object of its desires.
Inasmuch as it is positively known that plants are sensitive to light,
it may be that, in this case, the vine actually perceives the support
through a process akin to animal sight; but if a climbing plant finds
itself growing between two mounds or ridges, and behind one there is
a wall or some other means of support, and behind the other none, it
will invariably bend its creeping steps over the ridge hiding the wall.
The wall was invisible from the plant’s starting-point, and certainly
betrayed its presence through no odour or other manifestation. In
some mysterious way, the creeper simply knew that a vital necessity
of its life lay in a certain direction. Ordinarily, we associate such
phenomena with psychic influences. It is quite evident, that in certain
ways, the plants display a very practical knowledge of such mysteries.
For many years, man has instinctively been aware of this psychic
superiority of the members of the vegetable kingdom, and has gone to
them for advice in various troubles and difficulties, even sometimes
believing the plants to have a direct control over the affairs and
lives of men. While the great mass of such alleged influence is classed
by modern thought as merest superstition, who can say that the wildest
of these fancies does not contain certain germs of truth? At any rate,
a brief investigation of some of the more popular beliefs of former
years is very illuminating.
In ancient days, many flowers and plants were supposed to possess
the power of discovering the location of lost or hidden riches and
conducting a human searcher to them. The Germans named the Primrose
Schlüsselblume, or key-flower, in the belief that, if held in the
hand, it would unlock to its possessor the location of buried treasure
by some movement or other manifestation. To this day, many country
people in Europe and America have implicit faith in the ability of the
divining rod to seek out underground water. There are many enlightened
folk who claim that reported successes of this method of picking
well-sites are mere coincidences, but in view of the wide-spread
reliance on this theory which is constantly meeting the most practical
tests, would it not be open-minded to suggest that possibly the
branches of the rod do make some slight movement toward the hidden
water with which they have a natural affinity?
As mentioned in a previous chapter, young people through all ages have
gone to flowers for counsel when in love. The most frequent masculine
question has been “Does she love me?” The flowers have given the answer
in a variety of ways, most often by the number of their petals. The
query of the very young girl usually has been “Will I be married?”
and she has been sure to see that the reply is most often in the
affirmative. In _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_, Oberon tells Puck to lay
Pansies on Titania’s eyes in order that she may fall in love with the
first person she sees upon awakening.
There was a time when people placed great reliance upon the efficacy
of dreams. Plants seen in dreams always had special significance.
Among the various omens, general good fortune was indicated by Palms,
Olives, Jessamines, Lilies, Laurels, Thistles, Currants and Roses. When
flowers or fruit of the Plum, Cherry, Cypress and Dandelion appeared,
misfortune was indicated. Withered Roses foretold especially dire
events. “Nobody is fond of fading flowers.” A four-leaved Clover
put under a pillow induced dreams of one’s lover. In parts of South
America, the natives are said to smoke and eat certain intoxicating
plants in the hope that they may see visions in the resulting narcotic
dreams.
Plants have not been the cause of very many ghost stories, but
occasionally one hears of some mysterious night adventure of which some
plant is the central figure.
The Reverend S. H. Wainright of Japan tells a somewhat amusing tale of
a ghost scare he and his family had while living at Tsukiji, Tokio.
One evening, while sitting around the fire, they were considerably
disturbed by a weird and recurring sound which seemed to come from the
front yard. At first they took it for the creaking of a bamboo gate,
then for boys throwing pebbles, but neither of these explanations
seemed adequate. Finally, continual repetitions led to a search which
located the noises in a Wistaria arbour near the front fence. On near
approach, the loud taps sounded so much like stones striking the
leaves, that it was decided to take no further notice of the matter.
However, the problem weighed on Mr. Wainright’s mind, and he and his
son at length sallied forth a third time, determined with Aristotle
that the main thing was to know the causes.
“We entered the side yard through the bamboo gate and approached the
Wistaria. Underneath the Trellis arbour there were dark shadows and
outlines were indistinct. A Palmyra Palm was growing in the corner
of the fence under the arbour, and the fingers of one of the leaves
pointing downward seemed to be the hand of a man. When expectation is
running high, a fingered palm leaf may easily become the hand of a
human being or of a shadowy ghost. We had the electric burners brought
to the windows upstairs and the light thrown toward the arbour, and the
shadows cast by the electric rays rendered the situation all the more
mysterious.
“The noises were plainly among the Wistaria vines. But, strange to
say, the stones which seemed to be striking the vines came from no
particular direction. They seemed to burst like shells the minute
they struck and the pieces were heard to fall or strike in different
directions. By this time the thought of ghosts had not only occurred to
us but was gaining force in our minds. Indeed, a first-rate romance was
developing--subjectively, I should no doubt add.”
Again the party abandoned the quest, returned to their fireside,
but could not rest content. “With a heroic determination of will, I
declared that I would again go in search of the causes and not return
until the secret had been found out. The lights were held by those who
remained indoors at the upstairs windows. Two of us approached through
the side yard the place of mystery. Step by step we advanced, stopping
at intervals to listen. We could see nothing, but the noises we heard
were unmistakable. There could be no deception as to their reality.
Step by step, we drew nearer, peering in the meanwhile into the dark
shadows beneath the Wistaria. The nearer we came to the arbour, the
greater was the sense of mystery which possessed us. The noises were
weird and inexplicable. As we came near, a discovery was made which
excited us still more. After the explosion of the shells, white sabers
seemed to fall upon the ground. Were the ghosts in battle? What could
it all mean?
“Loyal to the heroic determination to go straight to the seat of the
trouble, I walked beneath the Wistaria arbour feeling an atmosphere
charged with electricity as I went. We stood side by side looking
about and waiting, when suddenly a Fuji pod exploded before our
eyes. The seeds flew in different directions and the divided halves
of the pod fell to the ground and lay like sabers dropped in the
attack of battle. When the discovery was made, one of us called out
to the upstairs window that it was the explosion of the Wistaria pods
that caused the noises. There was a general laugh and the ghosts
disappeared. Not affected by rain or darkness, by heat or cold, by
human foot-steps or voice, there is one thing ghosts cannot endure; to
be laughed at literally slays them.”
In the Middle Ages, the Mandrake was a magical plant which was reputed
to shine like a candle at night and thrive particularly well near the
gallows. When pulled from the earth, it uttered uncanny shrieks, and
according to Shakespeare “living mortals hearing them ran mad.”
Two centuries ago it was believed that every plant, as well as every
human being, was under the influence of some particular planet. The
plants over which Saturn claimed an ascendency were characterized by
ill-favoured leaves, ugly flowers and repellent odours. On the other
hand the plants of Jupiter displayed smooth leaves and graceful,
fragrant flowers. Today we believe that all plants belong to only one
planet, and that is the planet earth.
In the minds of agricultural folk, the moon has always had great
influence over vegetation. There are many rules still extant regarding
the proper time of that satellite’s phases in which to plant, reap
and perform a hundred other rustic acts. A medieval superstition
stated that when the moon was on the increase it imparted healing and
medicinal qualities to all herbs. During its decline, the same plants
generated poisons.
The mystic qualities of the flowers have been responsible for their
extensive ceremonial use throughout all history. Man attempts to
express all his more subtle emotions by their sweetness and purity.
He carries them alike to christenings, weddings and funerals, and
invariably sends them to his best girl. It is recorded that a certain
eastern king of antiquity was in the habit of offering a hundred
thousand flowers each day before the idol of a favourite god.
Flowers are still extensively used as signs and symbols. There are
ponderous volumes written on the “Language of Flowers.” All the garden
beauties have a natural symbolism written on their faces. Rosemary,
with its lingering colour, is an eternal emblem of remembrance.
“Violets dim but sweeter than the lids of Juno’s eyes or Cytherea’s
breath” speak of modesty in quiet tones. The spotless Lily must always
stand for purity.
Other floral symbols have been chosen for more remote but quite
apparent characteristics. Impatience is indicated by the Balsam
seed-pods, which, when ripe, curl up at the slightest touch, and shoot
forth their seeds with great violence. A popular name for the plant
is “Touch-Me-Not.” The very name of Heliotrope tells of its constant
turning toward the sun. It is often referred to as a symbol of devoted
attachment. Aspen, because of its tremulous motion has been made a sign
of fear. When people think of the Poppy and its narcotic product, they
likewise think of sleep and oblivion. A less apparent symbol is found
in the Wild Anemone, which is taken to denote brevity because its
frail petals are soon scattered by the boisterous wind. The Snow-Drop,
first flower of spring, peeping from its immaculate snow bank, is an
unmistakable emblem of purity.
The ancients were very liberal users of floral tokens; the Chinese,
Assyrians and Egyptians had many identical beliefs on the subject. The
Olive was and still is the universal badge of peace. Laurel was the
classic sign of renown with which the brows of prominent athletes and
statesmen were crowned. The Cypress was often an index of mourning. The
Rose and the Myrtle, having been dedicated to Venus, were insignias
of love. The Palm was a wide-spread representation of victory. Bible
students will recall that Palms were scattered before Jesus Christ on
the occasion of his triumphant entry into Jerusalem.
In their enthusiasm, flower-lovers have sometimes allowed their
imagination to carry them into unnatural and artificial symbolism. It
is not difficult to associate the White Lily with purity but when we
are told that the Flowering Almond represents hope, the Common Almond
indiscretion and stupidity, and the Floral Almond perfidity, one is
reduced to looking up this curious code in an indexed book. When each
variety of the Rose family has different and fluctuating significance,
a swain hesitates to summon the floral language of love to his aid.
Many people believe that peculiar mystic attachments exist between
certain birds and flowers. The Persians claim that whenever a Rose
is plucked, the nightingale utters a plaintive cry as if to protest
against the wounding of the object of its love. Many other birds show
marked affection for various plants.
In the same manner, almost every man and woman has his or her favourite
flower. Certain persons of a temperamental type are often emotionally
affected by the presence of flowers with which they appear to have
a mysterious psychic connection. Certain people claim to be able to
discern such marked similiarity between human beings and various flower
affinities that they undertake to liken various prominent people to
different blossoms. There is much chance for scientific investigation
in this field. With Perdita we at least know that “flowers of middle
summer should be given to men of middle age, but for our young prince
we want flowers of the spring that may become his time of day.”
Sometimes, through sentimental attachment, whole peoples elect certain
flowers to represent them before the world. Thus the United States has
chosen the Goldenrod for its national floral emblem, while the Rose of
England, the Thistle of Scotland, the Shamrock of Ireland, and the Leek
of Wales act in the same capacity for the British Isles.
Man paid a high compliment to the mystic veneration in which he holds
the plant world when he, in his primitive beliefs, invariably conceived
of heaven as some terrestrial paradise of luxurious vegetation. The
Persians had their Mount Caucasus; the Arabians dreamed about an
Elysium in the Desert of Arden; the Greeks and Romans had bright mental
pictures of the Gardens of Hesperides; and the Celts hoped to spend
their postmortem existence on an enchanted isle of wondrous beauty.
Such beliefs have fallen into disuse, but man is still a long way off
from a solution of the various mystic phenomena of the plant world.
Botanists should leave off indexing and classifying plants for a while
and endeavour to discover the subtle and fascinating laws of their
psychic existence.