XII. Plants Connected with Birds and Animals…

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.”

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]

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.”

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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.

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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.”

Of the flowers consecrated to their deities by the symbol-worshipper of India and Egypt, the most prominent is the sacred Lotus, whose leaf was the “emblem and cradle of creative might.” It was anciently revered in Egypt as it is now in Hindustan, Thibet, and Nepaul, where the people believe it was in the consecrated bosom of this plant that Brahma was born, and that Osiris delights to float. From its peculiar organisation the Lotus is virtually self-productive: hence it became the symbol of the reproductive power of all nature, and was worshipped as a symbol of the All-Creative Power. The same floral symbol occurs wherever in the northern hemisphere symbolic religion has prevailed. The sacred images of the Tartars, Japanese, and Indians are almost all represented as resting upon Lotus-leaves. The Chinese divinity, Puzza, is seated in a Lotus, and the Japanese god is represented sitting in a Water-Lily. The Onion was formerly held in the highest esteem as a religious symbol in the mysterious solemnities and divinations of the Egyptians and Hindus. In the first place, its delicate red veins and fibres rendered it an object of veneration, as typifying the blood, at the shedding of which the Hindu shudders. Secondly, it was regarded as an astronomical emblem, for on cutting through it, there appeared beneath the external coat a succession of orbs, one within another, in regular order, after the manner of revolving spheres. The Rose has been made a symbolic flower in every age. In the East, it is the emblem of virtue and loveliness. The Egyptians made it a symbol of silence; the Romans regarded it as typical of festivity. In modern times it is considered the appropriate symbol of beauty and love,--the half-expanded bud representing the first dawn of the sublime passion, and the full-blown flower the maturity of perfect love. The Asphodel, like the Hyacinth of the ancients, was regarded as an emblem of grief and sorrow. The Myrtle, from its being dedicated to Venus, was sacred as a symbol of love and beauty. White flowers were held to be typical of light and innocence, and were consecrated to virgins. Sombre and dark-foliaged plants were held to be typical of disaster and death.

The floral symbols of the Scriptures are worthy of notice. From the circumstance of Elijah having been sheltered from the persecutions of King Ahab by the Juniper, that tree has become a symbol of succour or an asylum. The Almond was an emblem of haste and vigilance to the Hebrew writers; with Eastern poets, however, it was regarded as a symbol of hope. Throughout the East, the Aloe is regarded as a religious symbol, and is greatly venerated. It is expressive of grief and bitterness, and is religiously planted by the Mahommedans at the extremity of every grave. Burckhardt says that they call it by the Arabic name Saber, signifying patience--a singularly appropriate name; for as the plant is evergreen, it whispers to those who mourn for the loved ones they have lost, patience in their affliction. The Clover is another sacred plant symbol. St. Patrick chose it as an emblem of the Trinity when engaged in converting the Irish, who have ever since, in the Shamrock, regarded it as a representative plant. The Druids thought very highly of the Trefoil because its leaf symbolised the three departments of nature--the earth, the sea, and the heaven.

But of all plant symbols, none can equal in beauty or sanctity the Passion Flower, the lovely blossom of which, when first met with by the Spanish conquerors of the New World, suggested to their enthusiastic imagination the story of our Saviour’s Passion. The Jesuits professed to find in the several parts of the Maracot the crown of thorns, the scourge, the pillar, the sponge, the nails, and the five wounds, and they issued drawings representing the flower with its inflorescence distorted to suit their statements regarding its almost miraculous character. John Parkinson, in his Paradisus Terrestris (1629), gives a good figure of the Virginian species of the plant, as well as an engraving of “The Jesuites Figure of the Maracoc--Granadillus Frutex Indicus Christi Passionis Imago.” But, as a good Protestant, he feels bound to enter his protest against the superstitious regard paid to the flower by the Roman Catholics, and so he writes: “Some superstitious Jesuites would fain make men believe that in the flower of this plant are to be seen all the markes of our Saviour’s Passion: and therefore call it Flos Passionis: and to that end have caused figures to be drawn and printed, with all the parts proportioned out, as thornes, nailes, spear, whip, pillar, &c., in it, and as true as the sea burns, which you may well perceive by the true figure taken to the life of the plant, compared with the figure set forth by the Jesuites, which I have placed here likewise for everyone to see: but these be their advantageous lies (which with them are tolerable, or rather pious and meritorious) wherewith they use to instruct their people; but I dare say, God never willed His priests to instruct His people with lies: for they come from the Devill, the author of them.”

In early times, it was customary in Europe to employ particular colours for the purpose of indicating ideas and feelings, and in France where the symbolical meaning of colours was formed into a regular system, much importance was attached to the art of symbolising by the selection of particular colours for dresses, ornaments, &c. In this way, flowers of various hues became the apt media of conveying ideas and feelings; and in the ages of chivalry the enamoured knight often indicated his passion by wearing a single blossom or posy of many-hued flowers. In the romance of Perceforet, a hat adorned with Roses is celebrated as a favourite gift of love; and in Amadis de Gaule, the captive Oriana is represented as throwing to her lover a Rose wet with tears, as the sweetest pledge of her unalterable faith. Red was recognised as the colour of love, and therefore the Rose, on account of its tint, was a favourite emblem. Of the various allegorical meanings which were in the Middle Ages attached to this lovely flower, a description will be found in the celebrated Romaunt de la Rose, which was commenced in the year 1620 by Guillaume de Lorris, and finished forty years later by Jean de Meung.

In France, during the Middle Ages, flowers were much employed as emblems of love and friendship. At the banquet given in celebration of the marriage of Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, with the English Princess, Margaret, several ingenious automata were introduced, one being a large unicorn, bearing on its back a leopard, which held in one claw the standard of England, and on the other a Daisy, or Marguerite. The unicorn having gone round all the tables, halted before the Duke; and one of the maîtres d’hôtel, taking the Daisy from the leopard’s claw, presented it, with a complimentary address, to the royal bridegroom.

In the same country, an act of homage, unique in its kind, was paid to a lady in the early part of the seventeenth century. The Duke of Montausier, on obtaining the promise of the hand of Mademoiselle de Rambouillet, sent to her, according to custom, every morning till that fixed for the nuptials, a bouquet composed of the finest flowers of the season. But this was not all: on the morning of New Year’s Day, 1634--the day appointed for the marriage--he laid upon her dressing-table a magnificently-bound folio volume, on the parchment leaves of which the most skilful artists of the day had painted from nature a series of the choicest flowers cultivated at that time in Europe. The first poets of Paris contributed the poetical illustrations, which were written by the cleverest penmen under the different flowers. The most celebrated of these madrigals, composed by Chapelain on the Crown Imperial, represented that superb flower as having sprung from the blood of Gustavus Adolphus, who fell in the battle of Lützen; and thus paid, in the name of the Swedish hero, a delicate compliment to the bride, who was a professed admirer of his character. According to a statement published some years since, this magnificent volume, which was called, after the name of the lady, the Garland of Julia, was disposed of, in 1784, at the sale of the Duke de la Vallière’s effects, for fifteen thousand five hundred and ten livres (about £650), and was brought to England.

The floral emblems of Shakspeare are evidence of the great poet’s fondness for flowers and his delicate appreciation of their uses and similitudes. In ‘A Winter’s Tale,’ Perdita is made to present appropriate flowers to her visitors, symbolical of their various ages; but the most remarkable of Shakspeare’s floral symbols occur where poor Ophelia is wearing, in her madness, “fantastic garlands of wild flowers”--denoting the bewildered state of her faculties.

The order of these flowers runs thus, with the meaning of each term beneath:--

CROW FLOWERS. NETTLES. DAISIES. LONG PURPLES.

Fayre Mayde. Stung to the Her Virgin Under the cold Quick. Bloom. hand of Death.

“A fair maid, stung to the quick; her virgin bloom under the cold hand of death.”

Probably no wreath could have been selected more truly typifying the sorrows of this beautiful victim of disappointed love and filial sorrow.

The most noted code of floral signs, used as a language by the Turkish and Greek women in the Levant, and by the African females on the coast of Barbary, was introduced into Western Europe by Lady Mary Wortley Montagu and La Mortraie, the companion in exile of Charles XII., and obtained in France and England much popularity as the “Turkish Language of Flowers.” This language is said to be much employed in the Turkish harems, where the women practise it, either for the sake of mere diversion in their seclusion, or for carrying on secret communication.

In France and Germany, the language of flowers has taken deep root, and in our own country the poetic symbolisms of Shakspeare, Chaucer, Herrick, Drayton, and others of the earlier bards, laid the groundwork for the very complete system of floral emblemism, or language of flowers, which we now possess. A great many works have been published, containing floral codes, or dictionaries: most of these, however, possess but little merit as expositions of old symbols or traditions, and have been compiled principally from modern sources.

An ancient floral vocabulary, taken from Dierbach’s Flora Mythologica der Griechen und Römer, and an approved modern English ‘Dictionary of Flowers,’ are appended, in order to make this portion of our subject complete.

Ancient Floral Vocabulary.

Absinth The Bitterness and Torments of Love. Acacia Love, pure and platonic. Acanthus Love of Fine Arts. Althea Exquisite Sweetness. Amaranth Fidelity and Constancy. Anemone Abandonment. Angelica Gentle Melancholy. Argentine Ingenuity. Aster Elegance. Balsam Impatience. Basil Poverty. Betony Emotion and Surprise. Bindweed Coquetry. Bluet Clearness and Light. Box Firmness and Stoicism. Bramble Injustice and Envy. Burdock Importunity. Buttercup Sarcasm. Calendula Anxiety. Camellia Constancy and Steadfastness. Carrot Good Character. Cinquefoil Maternal Love. Colchicum Bad Character. Cypress Mourning and Grief. Dahlia Sterile Abundance. Daisy (Easter) Candour and Innocence. Dandelion Oracle. Darnel Vice. Digitalis Work. Dittany Discretion. Elder Humility. Ephemeris Transient Happiness. Everlasting Flwr. Constancy. Fennel Merit. Fern Confidence. Forget-me-not Faithful Remembrance. Foxglove Adulation. Fuchsia Amiability. Fumitory Hatred. Geranium Folly. Hawthorn Sweet Hope. Heliotrope Eternal Love. Hellebore Wit. Hemlock Perfidy. Holly Defence. Honeysuckle Bond of Affection. Hyacinth Amenity. Hydrangea Coldness. Iris Indifference. Ivy Attachment. Jasmine Amiability. Jonquil Amorous Languor. Jujube-tree Relief. Larkspur Open Heart. Laurel Victory and Glory. Lavender Silence. Lilac First Troubles of Love. Lily Purity and Majesty. Maidenhair Bond of Love. Marjoram Consolation. Marvel of Peru Flame of Love. Mallow Maternal Tenderness. Mint Wisdom and Virtue. Milfoil Cure and Recovery. Moonwort Bad Payment. Myrtle Love. Narcissus Self-esteem and Fatuity. Nettle Cruelty. Olive Peace. Orange-tree Virginity, Generosity. Peony Shame. Periwinkle Unalterable Friendship. Pineapple Perfection. Pink Pure and Ardent Love. Poppy Sleep. Privet Youth. Rose Beauty and Love. Rosemary Power of Re-kindling extinct Energy. Rue Fecundity of Fields. Sage Esteem. Sensitive-plant Modesty. Solanum Prodigality. Spindle-tree Ineffaceable Memory. Strawberry Intoxication, Delight. Thyme Spontaneous Emotion. Trefoil Uncertainty. Tulip Grandeur. Valerian Readiness. Vervain Pure Affection. Viburnum Coolness. Violet Modesty.

A Dictionary of Flowers.

Acacia Friendship. ---- Rose Elegance. Acanthus The Arts. Achillea millefolia War. Adonis, Flos Painful Recollections. Agrimony Thankfulness. Almond-tree Indiscretion. Aloe Grief. Amaranth Immortality. Amaryllis Pride. Anemone Forsaken. ---- Field Sickness. Angelica Inspiration. Angrec Royalty. Apple-blossom Preference. Ash-tree Grandeur. Asphodel My regrets follow you to the grave. Aster, China Variety. ---- After-Thought. Balm of Gilead Cure. ---- Gentle Joking. Balsam Impatience. Barberry Sourness of Temper. Basil Hate. Beech Prosperity. Bilberry Treachery. Bladder-nut Frivolous Amusement. Borage Bluntness. Box-tree Stoicism. Bramble Envy. Broom Humility and Neatness. Buckbean Calm Repose. Bugloss Falsehood. Bulrush Indiscretion. Burdock Touch me not. Buttercup Ingratitude. Cactus, Virginia Horror. Canterbury Bell Constancy. Catchfly Snare. Champignon Suspicion. Cherry-tree Good Education. Chesnut-tree Do me Justice. Chicory Frugality. Cinquefoil Beloved Daughter. Circæa Spell. Clematis Artifice. Clotbur Rudeness. Clove-tree Dignity. Columbine Folly. Convolvulus (night) Night. Coriander Hidden Merit. Corn Riches. Corn-bottle Delicacy. Cornel Cherry Durability. Cowslip, Amer. You are my Divinity. Cress Resolution. Crown Imperial Power. Cuscuta Meanness. Cypress Mourning. Daffodil Self Love. Daisy Innocence. ---- Garden I share your sentiments. ---- Wild I will think of it. Dandelion The Rustic Oracle. Day Lily, Yellow Coquetry. Dittany Childbirth. Dock Patience. Dodder Meanness. Ebony-tree Blackness. Eglantine Poetry. Fennel Strength. Fig Longevity. Fir-tree Elevations. Flax I feel your kindness. Flower-de-Luce Flame. Forget-Me-Not Forget me not. Fraxinella Fire. Fuller’s Teasel Misanthropy. Geranium Deceit. ---- Oak-leaved True Friendship. ---- Silver-leaved Recall. ---- Pencilled-leaf Ingenuity. ---- Rose-scented Preference. ---- Scarlet Stupidity. ---- Sorrowful Melancholy Mind. ---- Wild Steadfast Piety. Grass Utility. Hawthorn Hope. Hazel Peace, Reconciliation. Heart’s Ease Think of me. Heath Solitude. Heliotrope, Peruvian Devoted Attachment. Hellenium Tears. Hepatica Confidence. Holly Foresight. Hollyhock Ambition. Honeysuckle Generous and Devoted Affection. Hop Injustice. Hornbeam Ornament. Horse-Chesnut Luxury. Hortensia You are cold. Hyacinth Game, Play. Ice-plant Your looks freeze me. Ipomœa I attach myself to you. Iris Message. Ivy Friendship. Jasmine Amiability. ---- Carolina Separation. Jonquil Desire. Juniper Protection. Larch Boldness. Larkspur Lightness. Laurel Glory. Laurustinus I die if neglected. Lavender Mistrust. Leaves, Dead Sadness, Melancholy. Lilac First Emotions of Love. ---- White Youth. Lily Majesty. Lily of the Valley Return of Happiness. Linden-tree Conjugal Love. Liverwort Confidence. London Pride Frivolity. Lotus Eloquence. Lucern Life. Madder Calumny. Maidenhair Secrecy. Mallow Beneficence. Manchineel-tree Falsehood. Maple Reserve. Mandrake Rarity. Marigold Grief. ---- Prophetic Prediction. ---- and Cypress Despair. Marvel of Peru Timidity. Meadow Saffron My best days are past. Mezereon Coquetry. Desire to please. Mignonette Your qualities surpass your charms. Milkwort Hermitage. Mistletoe I surmount all difficulties. Moonwort Forgetfulness. Moss Maternal Love. Mulberry-tree, Black I shall not survive you. ---- White Wisdom. Musk-plant Weakness. Myrobalan Privation. Myrtle Love. Narcissus Self Love. Nettle Cruelty. Nightshade, Bitter-sweet Truth. ---- Enchanter’s Spell. Nosegay Gallantry. Oak Hospitality. Olive Peace. Ophrys, Spider Skill. Orange Flower Chastity. ---- Tree Generosity. Orchis, Bee Error. Palm Victory. Parsley Festivity. Passion Flower Faith. Peony Shame, Bashfulness. Peppermint Warmth of Feeling. Periwinkle Tender Recollections. Pineapple You are perfect. Pink Pure Love. ---- Yellow Disdain. Plane-tree Genius. Plum-tree Keep your promises. ---- Wild Independence. Poplar, black Courage. ---- White Time. Poppy Consolation. ---- Sleep. ---- White My bane, my antidote. Potato Beneficence. Primrose Childhood. ---- Evening Inconstancy. Privet Prohibition. Quince Temptation. Ranunculus You are radiant with charms. Reeds Music. Rose Love. ---- 100-leaved Grace. ---- Monthly Beauty ever new. ---- Musk Capricious Beauty. ---- Single Simplicity. ---- White Silence. ---- Withered Fleeting Beauty. ---- Yellow Infidelity. Rosebud A Young Girl. ---- White A Heart unacquainted with Love. Rosemary Your presence revives me. Rue, Wild Morals. Rush Docility. Saffron Beware of excess. Sage Esteem. Sainfoin, Shaking Agitation. St. John’s Wort Superstition. Sardonia Irony. Sensitive-plant Chastity. Snapdragon Presumption. Snowdrop Hope. Sorrel, Wood Joy. Speedwell Fidelity. Spindle-tree Your charms are engraven on my heart. Star of Bethlehem Purity. Stock Lasting Beauty. ---- Ten Week Promptness. Stone Crop Tranquillity. Straw, Broken Rupture of a Contract. ---- Whole Union. Strawberry Perfection. Sunflower False Riches. Sweet Sultan Happiness. Sweet William Finesse. Sycamore Curiosity. Syringa Fraternal Love. Tansy, Wild I declare war against you. Tendrils of Creepers Ties. Thistle Surliness. Thorn Apple Deceitful Charms. Thrift Sympathy. Thyme Activity. Tremella Nostoc Resistance. Truffle Surprise. Tuberose Dangerous Pleasures. Tulip Declaration of Love. Tussilage, Sweet-scented Justice shall be done to you. Valerian An Accommodating Disposition. Valerian, Greek Rupture. Venus’ Looking-glass Flattery. Veronica Fidelity. Vervain Enchantment. Vine Intoxication. Violet Modesty. Violet, White Innocence, Candour. Wallflower Fidelity in Misfortune. Walnut Stratagem. Whortleberry Treachery. Willow, Weeping Mourning. Wormwood Absence. Yew Sorrow.

In the chapter on Magic Plants will be found a list of plants used by maidens and their lovers for the purposes of divination; and in Part II., under the respective headings of the plants thus alluded to, will be found described the several modes of divination. This practice of love divination, it will be seen, is not altogether unconnected with the symbolical meaning or language of flowers, and therefore it is here again adverted to.

In many countries it is customary to pluck off the petals of the Marigold, or some other flower of a similar nature, while certain words are repeated, for the purpose of divining the character of an individual. Göthe, in his tragedy of ‘Faust,’ has touched upon this rustic superstition, and makes Margaret pluck off the leaves of a flower, at the same time alternately repeating the words--“He loves me,”--“He loves me not.” On coming to the last leaf, she joyously exclaims--“He love me!”--and Faust says: “Let this flower pronounce the decree of heaven!”

“And with scarlet Poppies around, like a bower, The maiden found her mystic flower. ‘Now, gentle flower, I pray thee tell If my lover loves me, and loves me well; So may the fall of the morning dew Keep the sun from fading thy tender blue. Now must I number the leaves for my lot-- He loves me not--loves me--he loves me not-- He loves me--ah! yes, thou last leaf, yes-- I’ll pluck thee not for that last sweet guess! He loves me!’--‘Yes,’ a dear voice sighed, And her lover stands by Margaret’s side.”--Miss Landon.

In some places, the following mode of floral divination is resorted to. The lover, male or female, who wishes to ascertain the character of the beloved one, draws by lot one of the following flowers, the symbolical meaning attached to which will give the information desired:--

1.--Ranunculus Enterprising. 2.--Wild Pink Silly. 3.--Auricula Base. 4.--Blue Cornflower Loquacious. 5.--Wild Orach Lazy. 6.--Daisy Gentle. 7.--Tulip Ostentatious. 8.--Jonquil Obstinate. 9.--Orange-flower Hasty. 10.--Rose Submissive. 11.--Amaranth Arbitrary. 12.--Stock Avaricious. 13.--Spanish Passionate. 14.--Asphodel Languishing. 15.--Tricolour Selfish. 16.--Tuberose Ambitious. 17.--Jasmine Cheerful. 18.--Heart’s Ease Delicate. 19.--Lily Sincere. 20.--Fritillary Coquettish. 21.--Snapdragon Presumptuous. 22.--Carnation Capricious. 23.--Marigold Jealous. 24.--Everlasting Flower Constant.

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