MYSTIC PLANTS.
The mystic character and history of certain plants meet us in every age
and country. The gradual evolution of these curious plants of belief
must, no doubt, partly be ascribed to their mythical origin, and in many
cases to their sacred associations; while, in some instances, it is not
surprising that, "any plant which produced a marked effect upon the
human constitution should become an object of superstition." [1] A
further reason why sundry plants acquired a mystic notoriety was their
peculiar manner of growth, which, through not being understood by early
botanists, caused them to be invested with mystery. Hence a variety of
combinations have produced those mystic properties of trees and flowers
which have inspired them with such superstitious veneration in our own
and other countries. According to Mr. Conway, the apple, of all fruits,
seems to have had the widest and most mystical history. Thus, "Aphrodite
bears it in her hand as well as Eve; the serpent guards it, the dragon
watches it. It is the healing fruit of the Arabian tribes. Azrael, the
Angel of Death, accomplishes his mission by holding it to the nostrils,
and in the prose Edda it is written, 'Iduna keeps in a box apples which
the gods, when they feel old age approaching, have only to taste to
become young again.'" Indeed, the legendary mythical lore connected with
the apple is most extensive, a circumstance which fully explains its
mystic character. Further, as Mr. Folkard points out,[2] in the popular
tales of all countries the apple is represented as the principal magical
fruit, in support of which he gives several interesting illustrations.
Thus, "In the German folk-tale of 'The Man of Iron,' a princess throws a
golden apple as a prize, which the hero catches three times, and carries
off and wins." And in a French tale, "A singing apple is one of the
marvels which Princess Belle-Etoile and her brothers and her cousin
bring from the end of the world." The apple figures in many an Italian
tale, and holds a prominent place in the Hungarian story of the Iron
Ladislas.[3] But many of these so-called mystic trees and plants have
been mentioned in the preceding pages in their association with
lightning, witchcraft, demonology, and other branches of folk-lore,
although numerous other curious instances are worthy of notice, some of
which are collected together in the present chapter. Thus the nettle and
milfoil, when carried about the person, were believed to drive away
fear, and were, on this account, frequently worn in time of danger. The
laurel preserved from misfortune, and in olden times we are told how the
superstitious man, to be free from every chance of ill-luck, was wont to
carry a bay leaf in his mouth from morning till night.
One of the remarkable virtues of the fruit of the balm was its
prolonging the lives of those who partook of it to four or five hundred
years, and Albertus Magnus, summing up the mystic qualities of the
heliotrope, gives this piece of advice:--"Gather it in August, wrap it
in a bay leaf with a wolf's tooth, and it will, if placed under the
pillow, show a man who has been robbed where are his goods, and who has
taken them. Also, if placed in a church, it will keep fixed in their
places all the women present who have broken their marriage vow." It was
formerly supposed that the cucumber had the power of killing by its
great coldness, and the larch was considered impenetrable by fire;
Evelyn describing it as "a goodly tree, which is of so strange a
composition that 'twill hardly burn."
In addition to guarding the homestead from ill, the hellebore was
regarded as a wonderful antidote against madness, and as such is spoken
of by Burton, who introduces it among the emblems of his frontispiece,
in his "Anatomie of Melancholy:"--
"Borage and hellebore fill two scenes,
Sovereign plants to purge the veins
Of melancholy, and cheer the heart
Of those black fumes which make it smart;
To clear the brain of misty fogs,
Which dull our senses and Soul clogs;
The best medicine that e'er God made
For this malady, if well assay'd."
But, as it has been observed, our forefathers, in strewing their floors
with this plant, were introducing a real evil into their houses, instead
of an imaginary one, the perfume having been considered highly
pernicious to health.
In the many curious tales related of the mystic henbane may be quoted
one noticed by Gerarde, who says: "The root boiled with vinegar, and the
same holden hot in the mouth, easeth the pain of the teeth. The seed is
used by mountebank tooth-drawers, which run about the country, to cause
worms to come forth of the teeth, by burning it in a chafing-dish of
coles, the party holding his mouth over the fume thereof; but some
crafty companions, to gain money, convey small lute-strings into the
water, persuading the patient that those small creepers came out of his
mouth or other parts which he intended to cure." Shakespeare, it may be
remembered, alludes to this superstition in "Much Ado About Nothing"
(Act iii. sc. 2), where Leonato reproaches Don Pedro for sighing for the
toothache, which he adds "is but a tumour or a worm." The notion is
still current in Germany, where the following incantation is employed:--
"Pear tree, I complain to thee
Three worms sting me."
The henbane, too, according to a German belief, is said to attract rain,
and in olden times was thought to produce sterility. Some critics have
suggested that it is the plant referred to in "Macbeth" by Banquo (Act
i. sc. 3):--
"Have we eaten of the insane root
That takes the reason prisoner?"
Although others think it is the hemlock. Anyhow, the henbane has long
been in repute as a plant possessed of mysterious attributes, and Douce
quotes the subjoined passage:--"Henbane, called insana, mad, for the use
thereof is perillous, for if it be eate or dronke, it breedeth madness,
or slowe lykeness of sleepe." In days gone by, when the mandrake was an
object of superstitious veneration by reason of its supernatural
character, the Germans made little idols of its root, which were
consulted as oracles. Indeed, so much credence was attached to these
images, that they were manufactured in very large quantities for
exportation to various other countries, and realised good prices.
Oftentimes substituted for the mandrake was the briony, which designing
people sold at a good profit. Gerarde informs us, "How the idle drones,
that have little or nothing to do but eat and drink, have bestowed some
of their time in carving the roots of briony, forming them to the shape
of men and women, which falsifying practice hath confirmed the error
amongst the simple and unlearned people, who have taken them upon their
report to be the true mandrakes." Oftentimes, too, the root of the
briony was trained to grow into certain eccentric shapes, which were
used as charms. Speaking of the mandrake, we may note that in France it
was regarded as a species of elf, and nicknamed _main de gloire_; in
connection with which Saint-Palaye describes a curious superstition:--
"When I asked a peasant one day why he was gathering mistletoe, he told
me that at the foot of the oaks on which the mistletoe grew he had a
mandrake; that this mandrake had lived in the earth from whence the
mistletoe sprang; that he was a kind of mole; that he who found him was
obliged to give him food--bread, meat, and some other nourishment; and
that he who had once given him food was obliged to give it every day,
and in the same quantity, without which the mandrake would assuredly
cause the forgetful one to die. Two of his countrymen, whom he named to
me, had, he said, lost their lives; but, as a recompense, this _main de
gloire_ returned on the morrow double what he had received the previous
day. If one paid cash for the _main de gloire's_ food one day, he would
find double the amount the following, and so with anything else. A
certain countryman, whom he mentioned as still living, and who had
become very rich, was believed to have owed his wealth to the fact that
he had found one of these _mains de gloire_." Many other equally curious
stories are told of the mandrake, a plant which, for its mystic
qualities, has perhaps been unsurpassed; and it is no wonder that it was
a dread object of superstitious fear, for Moore, speaking of its
appearance, says:--
"Such rank and deadly lustre dwells,
As in those hellish fires that light
The mandrake's charnel leaves at night."
But these mandrake fables are mostly of foreign extraction and of very
ancient date. Dr. Daubeny, in his "Roman Husbandry," has given a curious
drawing from the Vienna MS. of Dioscorides in the fifth century,
representing the Goddess of Discovery presenting to Dioscorides the root
of the mandrake (of thoroughly human shape), which she has just pulled
up, while the unfortunate dog which had been employed for that purpose
is depicted in the agonies of death.
Basil, writes Lord Bacon in his "Natural History," if exposed too much
to the sun, changes into wild thyme; and a Bavarian piece of folk-lore
tells us that the person who, during an eclipse of the sun, throws an
offering of palm with crumbs on the fire, will never be harmed by the
sun. In Hesse, it is affirmed that with knots tied in willow one may
slay a distant enemy; and according to a belief current in Iceland, the
_Caltha palustris_, if taken with certain ceremonies and carried about,
will prevent the bearer from having an angry word spoken to him. The
virtues of the dittany were famous as far back as Plutarch's time, and
Gerarde speaks of its marvellous efficacy in drawing forth splinters of
wood, &c., and in the healing of wounds, especially those "made with
envenomed weapons, arrows shot out of guns, and such like."
Then there is the old tradition to the effect that if boughs of oak be
put into the earth, they will bring forth wild vines; and among the
supernatural qualities of the holly recorded by Pliny, we are told that
its flowers cause water to freeze, that it repels lightning, and that if
a staff of its wood be thrown at any animal, even if it fall short of
touching it, the animal will be so subdued by its influence as to return
and lie down by it. Speaking, too, of the virtues of the peony, he thus
writes:--"It hath been long received, and confirmed by divers trials,
that the root of the male peony dried, tied to the necke, doth helpe the
falling sickness, and likewise the incubus, which we call the mare. The
cause of both these diseases, and especially of the epilepsie from the
stomach, is the grossness of the vapours, which rise and enter into the
cells of the brain, and therefore the working is by extreme and subtle
alternation which that simple hath." Worn as an amulet, the peony was a
popular preservative against enchantment.
Footnotes:
1. _Fraser's Magazine_ 1870, p. 709.
2. "Plant Lore Legends and Lyrics," p. 224.
3. See Miss Busk's "Folk-lore of Rome."
End of Project Gutenberg's The Folk-lore of Plants, by T. F. Thiselton-Dyer