Chapter XVI: Funeral Trees and Plants (8)

Shakspeare, in ‘Love’s Labour Lost,’ says “Judas was hanged on an Elder,” and this belief was general among early writers, and is constantly alluded to by authors of the Elizabethan period; but the name Judas-tree was applied to the _Cercis siliquastrum_ (which is the tree which still bears it), about the same period. Gerarde, indeed, definitely tells us of the Cercis, “This is the tree whereon Judas did hang himselfe, and not upon the Elder-tree, as is stated.” On the other hand, that old Eastern traveller, Sir John Maundevile, tells us that the very Elder-tree upon which Judas hanged himself was to be seen in his day close to the Pool of Siloe; whilst the legend which connects Judas with the Elder-tree is alluded to by Ben Jonson, and is thus referred to in ‘Piers Plowman’:--

“Judas, he japed
With Jewen silver
And sithen on an Eller
Hanged hymselve.”

But not only is the ill-omened Elder credited with being connected with the death of Judas, but there is a wide-spread belief that it was the “accursed tree” on which the Redeemer’s life was given up; therefore, although fuel may be scarce and these sticks plentiful, in some places the superstitious poor will not burn them.----In Scotland, according to a writer in the ‘Dublin Magazine,’ it is called the Bour-tree, and the following rhyme is indicative of the belief entertained in that country:--

“Bour-tree, Bour-tree, crooked rung,
Never straight and never strong,
Ever bush and never tree,
Since our Lord was nailed on thee.”

In Chambers’s ‘Book of Days’ is an instance of the belief that a person is perfectly safe under the shelter of an Elder-tree during a thunderstorm, as the lightning never strikes the tree of which the Cross was made. Experience has taught that this is a fallacy, although many curious exceptional instances are recorded. In Napier’s Folk-lore of the Northern Counties we read of a peculiar custom:--the Elder is planted in the form of a cross upon a newly-made grave, and if it blooms they take it as a sure sign that the soul of the dead person is happy.

It is not considered prudent to sleep under an Elder. Evelyn describes the narcotic smell of the tree as very noxious to the air, and narrates that a certain house in Spain, seated among Elder-trees, diseased and killed almost all the inhabitants, “which, when at last they were grubbed up, became a very wholesome and healthy place.” As regards the medical virtues of the tree, Evelyn exclaims:--“If the medicinal properties of the leaves, bark, berries, &c., were thoroughly known, I cannot tell what our countryman could ail for which he might not fetch a remedy from every hedge, either for sickness or wound.” And he goes on to describe a variety of medicinal uses for the bark, buds, berries, leaves, and flowers; summing up the virtues of the Elder with the remark that “every part of the tree is useful, as may be seen at large in Blockwitzius’s anatomie thereof.” In this work is the following description of an amulet for the use of an epileptic subject, which is to be made of the Elder growing on a Sallow:--“If in the month of October, a little before the full moon, you pluck a twig of the Elder, and cut the cane that is betwixt two of its knees, or knots, in nine pieces, and these pieces, being bound in a piece of linen, be in a thread so hung about the neck that they touch the spoon of the heart, or the sword-formed cartilage; and, that they may stay more firmly in that place, they are to be bound thereon with a linen or leather roller wrapt about the body, till the thread break of itself. The thread being broken, and the roller removed, the amulet is not at all to be touched with bare hands, but it ought to be taken hold on by some instrument, and buried in a place that nobody may touch it.”

One mode of charming warts away is to take an Elder-shoot, and rub it on the part, then cut as many notches on the twig as you have warts, bury it in a place where it will soon decay, and as it rots away the warts will disappear. Another plan is to obtain a green Elder-stick, and rub the warts well with it, after which bury the stick to rot away in muck.

The black berries of the Elder are full of a deep violet-coloured juice, which, according to Virgil, the god Pan had his face smeared with, in compliance with the old Roman custom of painting their gods on solemn occasions.

To dream of Elder-berries denotes sickness. The tree is under the dominion of Venus.

=ELECAMPANE.=--Of the Elecampane (_Inula Helenium_), Rapin writes:--

“Elecampane, the beauteous Helen’s flower,
Mingles among the rest her silver store;
Helen, whose charms could royal breasts inspire
With such fierce flames as set the world on fire.”

When Paris carried off the celebrated Helen, the lovely wife of Menelaus was said to have had in her hand a nosegay of the bright yellow flowers of the Elecampane, which was thenceforth named Helenium, in her honour. The Romans employed the roots of Elecampane as an edible vegetable; the monks, who knew it as _Inula campana_, considered it capable of restoring health to the heart; and the herbalists deemed it marvellously good for many disorders, and admirable as a pectoral medicine. Elecampane lozenges have long been popular. Turner, in his ‘Brittish Physician,’ calls the _Inula campana_, the Sun-flower, and says that the root chewed fastens loose teeth, and preserves them from rotting, and that the distilled water of the green leaves makes the face fair. From its broad leaves, the Elecampane is sometimes called the Elf-dock.----It is held to be under Mercury.

=ELICHRYSUM.=--This species of everlasting flower derived its name, according to Themistagoras, from the nymph Elichrysa, who having adorned the goddess Diana with its blossoms, the plant was called after her, Elichryson. Its old English name was Golden Flower, or Golden Moth-wort, and Gerarde tells us that the blossoms, if cut before they are quite ripe, will remain beautiful a long time after. “For which cause of long lasting the images and carved gods were wont to weare garlands thereof: whereupon some have called it ‘God’s floure.’ For which purpose Ptolemy, King of Ægypt, did most diligently observe them, as Pliny writeth.”

=ELM.=--The ancients had a tradition that, at the first sound of the plaintive strains which proceeded from the lyre of Orpheus, when he was lamenting the death of Eurydice, there sprang up a forest of Elms; and it was beneath an Elm that the Thracian bard sought repose after his unavailing expedition to the infernal regions to recover his lost love. Rapin thus tells the tale:--

“When wretched Orpheus left the Stygian coast,
Now hopeless since again his spouse was lost,
Beneath the preferable shade he sate
Of a tall Elm, and mourned his cruel fate:
Where Rhodope rears high her steepy brow,
While Heber’s gentle current strays below.
On his sweet lyre the skilful artist played,
Whose all-commanding strings the woods obeyed;
And crowding round him formed a hasty shade.
There Cypress, Ilex, Willows, Planes unite,
And th’ Elm, ambitious of a greater height,
Presents before his view a married Vine,
Which round her husband, Elm, did circling twine,
And warned him to indulge a second flame;
But he neglects th’ advice, and slights the dame:
By fatal coldness still condemned to prove
A victim to the rage of female love.”

The “wedding of the Elm to the Vine,” alluded to in the above lines, was a very favourite topic among the old Roman poets; Virgil, indeed, selects the junction of the Elm and the Vine as the subject of one whole book of his ‘Georgics.’ The ancients twined their Vines round the trunks of the Elm; and the owner of a Vineyard tended his Elms as carefully as his Vines.----When Achilles killed the father of Andromache, he erected in his honour a tomb, around which nymphs came and planted Elms.----Perhaps on account of its longevity, or because it produces no fruit, the Greeks and Romans considered the Elm a funereal tree: in our own times, it is connected with burials, inasmuch as coffins are generally made of its wood.----The ancients called the Elm, the tree of Oneiros, or of Morpheus, the god of sleep. As a widespreading shady tree, it is selected by Virgil (Æn. vi.) as the roosting-place of dreams in gloomy Orcus:--

“Full in the midst a spreading Elm displayed
His aged arms, and cast a mighty shade;
Each trembling leaf with some light visions teems,
And heaves impregnated with airy dreams.”

It was in connection with the title of Tree of Dreams (_Ulmus Somnorum_), that the Elm became, like the Oak, a prophetic tree.----On the Continent, an Elm is often found on the village-green, beneath whose boughs justice used formerly to be administered, and meetings held: there was one at Gisors, on the frontier of Normandy, where the kings of France and Dukes of Normandy used to hold conference together, and which was large enough to shelter both their trains; this tree was upwards of two hundred years old when cut down by order of King Philippe Auguste, out of hatred to our Plantagenet kings. One of the oldest Elms in England is a stump at Richmond, now fenced in, and covered with Ivy, which was planted by Queen Elizabeth herself, and has on that account always been known as the Queen’s Elm.----Formerly the leafing of the Elm was made to regulate both field and garden work, as seen in the following rustic rhyme:--

“When the Elmen leaf is as big as a mouse’s ear,
Then to sow Barley never fear.
When the Elmen leaf is as big as an ox’s eye,
Then say I, ‘Hie, boys, hie!’”

In olden times, the falling of the leaves of an Elm was thought to prognosticate a murrain. In Sicily, they have a custom of binding the trunk of a Fig-tree with branches of Elm, from a belief that they would prevent the young Figs from falling before they became thoroughly ripe.----The Elm is held to be under the influence of Saturn.----“The Seven Sisters” was the name bestowed on seven Elm-trees at Tottenham, which gave the name to the road from thence to Upper Holloway. In Bedwell’s History of Tottenham, written in the year 1631, he describes Page Green by the side of the high road at that village, and a group of Elms in a circle, with a Walnut in the centre. He says: “This tree hath this many yeares stod there, and it is observed yearely to live and beare leavs, and yet to stand at a stay, that is, to growe neither greater or higher. This people do commonly tell the reason to bee, for that there was one burnt upon that place for the profession of the Gospell.” There was also a connecting link between the Walnut-tree and the Seven Sisters, by which it was surrounded. There were seven Elms planted by seven sisters respectively. The tree planted by the smallest of the sisters was always irregular and stunted in growth. There was an eighth sister who planted an Elm in the midst of the other seven, and the legend relates that it withered and died when she died, and that then a Walnut-tree grew in its place. The Walnut-tree has long since gone, and probably the Elms have now disappeared.

=ENCHANTER’S NIGHTSHADE.=--Formerly the _Atropa Mandragora_ used to bear this name, but by some mistake it has been transferred to the _Circæa Lutetiana_, an insignificant plant named after Circe, the famed enchantress, probably because its fruit, being covered with hooked prickles, lays hold of the unwary passers-by, as Circe is said to have done by means of her enchantments. The Mandrake was called “Nightshade,” from having been classed with the _Solanum_ tribe, and “Enchanter’s” from its Latin name Circæa, a name which it obtained, according to Dioscorides, because Circe, who was expert in herbal lore, used it as a tempting powder in amorous concerns.

=ENDIVE.=--The Endive or Succory (_Cichorium_) is, according to the oldest Greek Alexandrian translations of the Bible, one of the “bitter herbs” which the Almighty commanded the Israelites to eat with the lamb at the institution of the Feast of the Passover. The garden Endive (_C. Endivia_) is probably the plant celebrated by Horace as forming a part of his simple diet: its leaves are used in salads, and its root, under the name of Chicory, is extensively used to mingle with Coffee. Immense quantities of Endive were used by the ancient Egyptians, who called it _Chicouryeh_, and from this word is derived the generic name _Cichorium_.----The wild Succory (_C. Intybus_) opens its petals at 8 a.m., and closes them at 4 p.m.

“On upland slopes the shepherds mark
The hour when, to the dial true,
_Cichorium_ to the towering lark
Lifts her soft eye, serenely blue.”

The Germans say that once upon a time the Endives were men under a ban. The blue flowers, which are plentiful, were good men; the white flowers, much rarer, were evil-doers.----The blue star-like blossom is a most popular flower in Germany: it is the _Wegewarte_--the watcher of the roads; the _Wegeleuchte_, or lighter of the road; the _Sonnenwende_, or Solstice; the _Sonnenkraut_, or herb of the sun; and the _Verfluchte Jungfer_, or accursed maiden. An ancient ballad of Austrian Silesia recounts the history of a young girl who for seven years mourned for her lover, fallen in the wars. When her friends wished to console her, and to procure for her another lover, she replied: “I shall cease to weep only when I become a wild flower by the wayside.”----Another version of the German legend is that a loving maiden anxiously expected the return of her betrothed from a voyage upon which he had long since set out. Every morning she paced the road where she had last bade adieu to him; every evening she returned. Thus she wearily passed her time during many a long month. At last, utterly worn out with watching and waiting, she sank exhausted by the wayside, and, broken-hearted, expired. On the spot where she breathed her last sigh sprang up a little pale flower which was the _Wegewarte_, the watcher of the road.----In Bavaria, the same legend is met with, differing only in details. A young and beautiful princess was abandoned by her husband, a young prince of extraordinary beauty. Grief exhausted her strength, and finding herself on the point of death, she exclaimed: “Ah, how willingly would I die if I could only be sure of seeing my loved one, wherever I may be. Her ladies-in-waiting, hearing her desire, solemnly added: “And we also would willingly die if only we were assured that he would always see us on every roadside.” The merciful God heard from heaven their heart-felt desires, and granted them. “Happily,” said He, “your wishes can be fulfilled; I will change you into flowers. You, Princess, you shall remain with your white mantle on every road traversed by your husband; you, young women, shall remain by the roadside, habited in blue, so that the prince must see you everywhere.” Hence the Germans call the wild Succory, _Wegewarten_.----Gerarde tells us that Placentinus and Crescentius termed the Endive, _Sponsa solis_, Spouse of the Sun (a name applied by Porta to the Heliotrope), and we find in De Gubernatis’ _Mythologie des Plantes_, the following passage:--“Professor Mannhardt quotes the charming Roumanian ballad, in which is recounted how the Sun asked in marriage a beautiful woman known as _Domna Florilor_, or the Lady of the Flowers; she refused him, whereupon the Sun, in revenge, transformed her into the Endive, condemned for ever to gaze on the Sun as soon as he appears on the horizon, and to close her petals in sadness as the luminary disappears. The name of _Domna Florilor_, a kind of Flora, given by the Roumanians to the woman loved by the Sun, reminds us somewhat of the name of Fioraliso, given in Italy to the Cornflower, and which I supposed to have represented the Sun. The Roumanian legend has, without doubt, been derived from an Italian source, in its turn a development of a Grecian myth--to wit, the amour of the Sun, Phœbus, with the lovely nymph Clytie.” (See HELIOTROPE).----There is a Silesian fairy tale which has reference to the Endive:--The magician Batu had a daughter named Czekanka, who loved the youthful Wrawanec; but a cruel rival slew the beloved one. In despair, Czekanka sought her lover’s tomb, and killed herself beside it. Whilst in her death throes, she was changed into the blue Succory, and gave the flower its Silesian name _Czekanka_. Wrawanec’s murderer, jealous of poor Czekanka, even after her death, threw on the plant a swarm of ants, in the hope that the little insects might destroy the Succory, but the ants, on the contrary, in their rage, set off in pursuit of the murderer, and so vigorously attacked him, that he was precipitated into a crevasse on the mountain Kotancz.----In Germany and in Rome, where a variety of estimable qualities are ascribed to the plant, they sell Endive-seed as a panacea, but especially as a love philtre. They would not uproot it with the hand, but with a bit of gold or a stag’s horn (which symbolise the disk and the rays of the Sun), on one of the days of the Apostles (June 29th and July 25th). A girl thus uprooting an Endive will be assured of the constancy of her lover.----Endive, carried on the person, is supposed to enable a lover to inspire the object of his affections with a belief that he possesses all the good qualities she could wish for. Endive-root breaks all bonds, removes thorns from the flesh, and even renders the owner invisible.----The herb is held to be under the rule of Venus.

=ERAGROSTIS.=--Among the Hindus, the _Eragrostis cynosuroides_ is considered a sacred Grass, and is employed by them for strewing the floors of their temples. In England, it is known as Love Grass.

=ERYSIMUM.=--The Hedge Mustard, Bank Cress, or Jack-by-the-Hedge (_Erysimum Barbarea_) is called by the French St. Barbara’s Hedge Mustard and the Singer’s Plant (_herbe au chantre_), and up to the time of Louis XIV. was considered an infallible remedy in cases of loss of voice. Racine, writing to Boileau, recommended the syrup of Erysimum to him when visiting the waters of Bourbonne, in order to be cured of loss of voice. Boileau replied that he had heard the best accounts of the Erysimum, and that he meant to use it the following summer.----The plant is held to be under Mercury.

=ERYNGO.=--The Sea Eryngo (_Eryngium maritimum_) is, perhaps, better known by the name of Sea Holly, which has been given it on account of the striking resemblance of its foliage to the Holly. According to Rapin, Eryngo possessed magical properties, inasmuch as, if worn by young married women, it ensured the fidelity of their husbands. On this account, Sappho employed it to secure the love of Phaon, the handsome boatman of Mitylene, for whom the poetess had conceived so violent a passion, that at length, mortified at his coldness, she threw herself into the sea. Rapin says:--

“Grecian Eryngoes now commence their fame,
Which, worn by brides, will fix their husband’s flame,
And check the conquests of a rival dame.
Thus Sappho charmed her Phaon, and did prove
(If there be truth in verse) his faith in love.”

Plutarch records that, if one goat took the herb Sea Holly into her mouth, “it caused her first to stand still, and afterwards the whole flock, until such time as the shepherd took it from her mouth.” Eryngo-root was formerly much prized as a tonic, and in Queen Elizabeth’s time, when prepared with sugar, was called Kissing Comfits. Lord Bacon, recommending the yolks of eggs as very nourishing, when taken with Malmsey or sweet wine, says: “You shall doe well to put in some few slices of Eringium-roots, and a little Amber-grice, for by this meanes, besides the immediate facultie of nourishment, such drinke will strengthen the back.”

=EUGENIA.=--In Burmah, the _Eugenia_ is regarded as a sacred plant. When a spray is cut, prayers and supplications for absent friends and relatives are offered up before it, and twigs and leaves of it are kept in consecrated water in almost every house, and occasionally the different apartments are sprinkled with it as a protective against ghosts, ogres, and evil spirits. The twigs of _Eugenia_ are sometimes hung about the eaves, and in many cases a small plant is kept growing in a pot in the house, so that its benign influence may keep harm away.----In cases of cholera epidemic, the natives of the affected district betake themselves to a Buddhist monastery, carrying presents and a small pot partly filled with water, and containing leaves of a species of _Eugenia_ (Tha-byay-bin), and some coarse yellow string wound round a small stick. These pots are blessed by the Buddhist abbot, and are then taken away by the people, who either hang up the yellow string in little bags round the eaves of their houses, or else wear it coiled round the left wrist. The pots of water and sprigs of _Eugenia_ are kept in the house to guard it from infection.

=EUPATORIUM.=--Agrimony has derived its name of _Eupatorium_ from Mithridates Eupator, King of Pontus, who was skilled in botany and physic, and used this plant as an antidote against the poison with which his enemies at court attempted to destroy him. _E. Ayapana_, a native of Brazil, has long been famed for curing the bites of serpents, and its leaves, when fresh bruised, are useful when applied to the face of ulcers.----In Italy and Russia, magical properties are attributed to this plant.

=EUPHORBIA.=--The Euphorbia or Medusa Head possesses the peculiar property of blooming in warm water after apparent death. The milky juice of _Euphorbia Canariensis_, and some other species of Spurge, produces the drug Euphorbium. The juice of _E. heptagona_ furnishes the Ethiopians with a deadly poison for their arrows. At Bodo, in India, before the doorway of every house is cultivated a plant of the sacred Sidj, a species of Euphorbia, which is looked upon both as the domestic and national divinity, and to this plant the natives address their prayers and offer up hogs as sacrifices.

=EVERLASTING FLOWERS.=--Writing of the _Gnaphalium Alpinum_, Gerarde tells us that in his day English women called it “Live-long,” or “Live-for-ever.” From hence has originated the name Everlasting, applied to the genus _Gnaphalium_. The ancients crowned the images of their gods with garlands made of these flowers, and from this circumstance they were frequently called God’s flowers. In Spain and Portugal, they are still used to decorate the altars and the images of the saints. The French have named the Gnaphalium, _Immortelle_, and employ it in the manufacture of the garlands and devices which they place on their coffins and graves. Old writers call the plant Cudweed, Cottonweed, Gold-flower, Goldilocks, Golden Stœchas, and Golden-flower Gentle. One species has obtained the name of _Herba Impia_, because the later flowers grow higher, and, as Gerarde says, “overtop those that come first, as many wicked children do unto their parents.”

=EYEBRIGHT.=--The Eyebright or Euphrasy (_Euphrasia officinalis_) was formerly called Euphrosyne, after one of the Graces. This name became subsequently corrupted to Euphrasy. The plant was also known as Ocularis and Ophthalmica, on account of its use in the treatment of disorders of the eye. According to Coles, it obtained the name of Eyebright from its being employed by the linnet to clear its sight; other old authors also say that birds made use of it to repair their vision. Arnoldus affirms that the plant restored sight to people who had been blind a long while; and Gerarde says that, taken either alone or in any other way, it preserves the sight, and, “being feeble and lost, it restores the same: it is given most fitly being beaten into pouder; oftentimes a like quantitie of Fennell-seed is added thereto, and a little Mace, to the which is put so much sugar as the weight of them all commeth to.” It was also believed to comfort the memory, and assist a weak brain. Milton, Drayton, Shenstone, and other poets have celebrated the powers of Euphrasy, and we find Spenser writing:--

“Yet Euphrasie may not be left unsung,
That gives dim eyes to wander leagues around.”

Astrologers state that the Eyebright is under the sign of the Lion, and the Sun claims dominion over it.

=FAIR MAIDS.=--Fair Maids of February are Snowdrops, so called from their delicate white blossoms opening about the second of that month, when it was customary for maidens, dressed in white, to walk in procession at the Feast of the Purification. Fair Maids of France are double Crowfoots, or a particular variety, originally introduced from France, viz., _Ranunculus aconitifolius_.

=FELDWODE.=--Medea, the enchantress, is said by Gower to have employed a certain herb, Feldwode:--

“Tho toke she Feldwode and Verveine,
Of herbes ben nought better tweine.”

This herb is generally supposed to have been the yellow Gentian, or Baldmoney, _Gentiana lutea_. (See GENTIAN.)

=FENNEL.=--Fenckle, or Fennel (_Fœniculum_), was employed by the ancients in the composition of wreaths, to be worn by victors after the games in the arena. The gladiators mixed this plant with their food to increase their strength. The god Sylvanus was sometimes crowned with Fennel.----In later times, Fennel was strewn across the pathway of newly-married couples, and was generally liked for its odour; thus Ophelia says: “There’s Fennel for you, and Columbine.”----Pliny records that serpents are wonderfully fond of this plant, inasmuch as it restores them to youth by causing them to cast their old skin, and by its use they recover their sight if it becomes dim. Gerarde says, that the seed “drunke for certaine daies together, fasting, preserveth the eyesight, whereof was written this distichon following:--

_“Fœniculum, Rosa, Verbena, Chelidonia, Ruta,
Ex his fit aqua quæ lumina reddit acuta._

“Of Fennell, Roses, Vervain, Rue, and Celandine,
Is made a water, good to cheere the sight of eine.”

The ancients believed that the use of Fennel gave strength to the constitution, and made fat people grow lean. The roots of Fennel, pounded with honey, were considered a remedy for the bites of mad dogs.----Fennel is one of the numerous plants dedicated to St. John, and was formerly hung over doors and windows on his vigil.----Astrologers state it is a herb of Mercury under Virgo.

=FERN.=--Among Celtic and Germanic nations the Fern was formerly considered a sacred and auspicious plant. Its luck-bringing power was not confined to one species, but belonged to the tribe in general, dwelling, however, in the fullest perfection in the seed, the possessor of which could wish what he would, and the Devil would be obliged to bring it to him. In Swabia, they say that Fern-seed brought by the Devil between eleven and twelve on Christmas night enables a man to do as much work as twenty or thirty ordinary men.

In mediæval days, when sorcery flourished, it was thought the Fern-seed imparted to its owner the power of resisting magical charms and incantations. The ancients believed that the Fern had no seeds, but our ancestors thought it had seed which was invisible. Hence, after the fantastic doctrine of signatures, they concluded that those who possessed the secret of wearing this seed about them would become invisible. Thus, we find that, in Shakspeare’s ‘Henry IV.,’ Gadshill says: “We steal as in a castle, cock-sure: we have the receipt of Fern-seed, we walk invisible.”

The people of Westphalia are wont to relate how one of their countrymen chanced one Midsummer night to be looking for a foal he had lost, and passing through a meadow just as the Fern-seed was ripening, some of it fell into his shoes. In the morning he went home, walked into the sitting-room, and sat down, but thought it strange that neither his wife, nor indeed any of his family, took the slightest notice of him. “I have not found the foal,” said he. Everybody in the room started and gazed around with scared looks, for they had heard the man’s voice, but saw no one. Thinking that he was joking, and had hid himself, his wife called him by his name. Thereupon he stood up, planted himself in the middle of the floor, and said, “Why do you call me? Here I am right before you.” Then they were more frightened than ever, for they had heard him stand up and walk, and still they could not see him. The man now became aware that he was invisible, and a thought struck him that possibly he might have got Fern-seed in his shoes, for he felt as if there was sand in them. So he took them off, and shook out the Fern-seed, and as he did so he became visible again to everybody.

A belief in the mystic power of Fern-seed to make the gatherer walk invisible is still extant. The English tradition is, that the Fern blooms and seeds only at twelve o’clock on Midsummer night--St. John’s Eve--just at the precise moment at which the Saint was born--

“But on St. John’s mysterious night,
Sacred to many a wizard spell,
The hour when first to human sight
Confest, the mystic Fern-seed fell.”

In Dr. Jackson’s Works (1673) we read that he once questioned one of his parishioners as to what he saw or heard when he watched the falling of the Fern-seed, whereupon the man informed him that this good seed is in the keeping of Oberon (or Elberich), King of the Fairies, who would never harm anyone watching it. He then said to the worthy doctor, “Sir, you are a scholar, and I am none. Tell me, what said the angel to our Lady; or what conference had our Lady with her cousin Elizabeth, concerning the birth of St. John the Baptist?” Finding Doctor Jackson unable to answer him, he told him that “the angel did foretell John Baptist should be born at that very instant in which the Fern-seed--at other times invisible--did fall: intimating further that this saint of God had some extraordinary vertue from the time or circumstance of his birth.”

To catch the wonder-working seed, twelve pewter plates must be taken to the spot where the Fern grows: the seed, it is affirmed, will pass through eleven of the plates, and rest upon the twelfth. This is one account: another says that Midsummer night is the most propitious time to procure the mystic Fern-seed, but that the seeker must go bare-footed, and in his shirt, and be in a religious state of mind.

In ancient days it was thought the demons watched to convey away the Fern-seed as it fell ere anyone could possess themselves of it. A writer on Brittany states that he remembers to have heard recounted by one who had gathered Fern-seed, that whilst he was prosecuting his search the spirits grazed his ears, whistling past them like bullets, knocking off his hat, and hitting him with it all over his body. At last, when he thought that he had gathered enough of the mystic seed, he opened the case he had been putting it into, and lo! it was empty. The Devil had evidently had the best of it.

M. Marmier, in his _Légendes des Plantes_, writes:--“It is on Midsummer night that you should go and seek the Fern-seed: he who is fortunate enough to find it will indeed be happy. He will have the strength of twenty men, he will discover precious metals in the bowels of the earth, he will comprehend the present and the future. Up to the present time, however, no one has been able to secure this precious seed. It ripens but for a minute, and the Devil guards it with ferocious vigilance.”

De Gubernatis, in his _Mythologie des Plantes_, publishes a communication sent him by the Princess Marie Galitzin Prazorovskaïa, on the subject of the flowering of the Fern, the details of which she obtained from a Russian peasant. “On Midsummer night, before twelve o’clock, with a white napkin, a cross, a Testament, a glass of water, and a watch, one seeks in the forest the spot where the Fern grows; one traces with the cross a large circle; one spreads the napkin, placing on the cross the Testament and the glass of water. Then one attentively looks at one’s watch: at the precise midnight hour the Fern will bloom: one watches attentively; for he who shall see the Fern-seed drop shall at the same time see many other marvels; for example, three suns, and a full moon, which reveals every object, even the most hidden. One hears laughter; one is conscious of being called; if one remains quiet one will hear all that is happening in the world, and all that is going to happen.”

In a work by Markevic, the author says:--“The Fern flowers on Midsummer night at twelve o’clock, and drives away all unclean spirits. First of all it put forth buds, which afterwards expand, then open, and finally change into flowers of a dark red hue. At midnight, the flower opens to its fullest extent, and illuminates everything around. But at that precise moment a demon plucks it from its stalk. Whoever wishes to procure this flower must be in the forest before midnight, locate himself near the Fern, and trace a circle around it. When the Devil approaches and calls, feigning the voice of a parent, sweetheart, &c., no attention must be paid, nor must the head be turned, for if it is, it will remain so. Whoever becomes the happy possessor of the flower has nothing to fear: by its means he can recover lost treasure, become invisible, rule on earth and under water, and defy the Devil. To discover hidden treasure, it is only necessary to throw the flower in the air: if it turns like a star above the Sun, so that it falls perpendicularly in the same spot, it is a sure indication that treasure is concealed there.”

A very ancient method prescribed for obtaining the mystic Fern-seed is given by Dr. Kuhn. At the Summer solstice, if you shoot at the Sun when it has attained its mid-day height, three drops of blood will fall: they must be gathered up and preserved, for that is the Fern-seed.

The Franche-Comté peasantry talk of a mysterious plant that misleads travellers. According to a German authority, this plant is no other than the Fern on Midsummer night. As we have seen, on that night the Fern is reputed to flower, and to let fall its seed: he who secures this seed, becomes invisible; but if the unsuspecting traveller passes by the Fern without noticing it, he will be assuredly misled, even although well acquainted with the road. This is the reason why, in Thuringia, they call the Fern _Irrkraut_, the misleading plant.

In Poland, there is a popular notion that the plucking of Fern produces a violent thunderstorm.

In Germany, they call the Fern _Walpurgiskraut_, the superstition being that, on the _Walpurgisnacht_, the witches procure this plant in order to render themselves invisible. In Lombardy, there exists a popular superstition akin to this. The witches, they say, are particularly fond of the Fern; they gathered it to rub in their hands during a hailstorm, turning it from the side where the hail falls the thickest.

The root of the common Male Fern (_Filix mas_), was an important ingredient in the love-philtres of former days. An old Gaelic bard sings:--

“’Twas the maiden’s matchless beauty
That drew my heart anigh;
Not the Fern-root potion,
But the glance of her blue eye.”

In olden times the young scroll-like fronds of this Fern were called Lucky Hands, or St. John’s Hands, and were believed to protect the possessor from sorcery, witches’ spells, and the Evil Eye. In Germany, the Male Fern was formerly called _Johanniswurtzel_; and both on the Continent, and in England, it was the custom, on Midsummer Eve, to gather this Fern, which was sold to the credulous, who wore it about their persons, and mingled it with the water drunk by their cows, as a protection against all evil spirits, and to ensure good luck. It is believed, in Thuringia, that if anyone carries Fern about him, he will be pursued by serpents until he throws it away. In Sweden, the plant is called Snake-bane.

An ancient notion prevailed, that the Male Fern had an antipathy to the Reed; and that where one grew, the other was sure to be absent. According to Dioscorides, “the root hereof is reported to be good for those that have ill spleens; and being stamped with swine’s grease and applied, it is a remedy against the pricking of the Reed.” Other old herbalists state, that the roots of the Male Fern, and the Lady Fern (_Filix fœmina_), boiled in oil, produced “very profitable ointments to heal wounds.” The _Ophioglossum_ had, in olden times, the reputation of being a cure for the bite of serpents. (See also BRACKEN).

According to Cornish fairy mythology, the Fern was connected with the Small Folk, who are believed to be the spirits of the people who inhabited Cornwall thousands of years ago--long before the birth of Christ. In the legend of the Fairy Widower, a pretty girl, Jenny Permuen, a village coquette, one day set off to “look for a place.” At the junction of four cross roads, she sat down on a boulder of granite, and thoughtlessly began to break off the beautiful fronds of Ferns which grew all around. Suddenly a young man appeared before her, and addressing her by name, enquired what brought her there. Jenny replied that she wished to obtain a situation, and was on her road to the market town. The young man said he was a widower, and in want of a young woman to take care of his little son; and that as he liked Jenny’s good looks, he would engage her there and then for a year and a day, and pay her well; but that he should require her to swear his oath, which consisted in kissing a Fern-leaf, and repeating the formula:--

“For a year and a day,
I promise to stay.”

Jenny was charmed and flattered; all sorts of visions rose before her eyes, and, without hesitation, she took the oath and followed the stranger eastward. In silence the pair walked on, until the girl was quite weary; then they sat down on a bank, and the young man taking a bunch of leaves passed them rapidly over Jenny’s eyes: her weariness departed as if by magic, and she found herself in fairy-land, with her mysterious master. He led her to a splendid mansion, and introduced her to his little boy, who was so beautiful that he instantly won her love. The girl continued at her duties in fairy-land for the allotted time; then, one morning, upon awaking, she found herself sleeping in her own bed in her mother’s cottage; and the old gossips of the village, upon hearing her story, knew that she had been carried by the Small People to some of their countries under the hills.

=FIG.=--There are several mythological accounts of the origin of the Fig. According to one, Lyceus, one of the Titans, pursued by Jupiter, was metamorphosed into a Fig-tree by the goddess Rhea. Another story attributes to her husband, Saturn, the origin of the Fig-tree, and on this account the inhabitants of Cyrene deck the statue of the god with crowns of Figs. A third myth relates that the Fig-tree is the offspring of the loves of Oxylus, King of Elis, with a Hamadryad. Bacchus, however, was generally considered to have introduced the Fig to mortals: hence the tree was sacred to him, and he is often represented as crowned with Fig-leaves. On this account, also, it was customary to make an offering of the first Figs to the jovial god. At the Canephoria festivals at Athens, in honour of Bacchus, the female votaries wore round their necks collars composed of dried Figs; and at the Dionysian festivals, a basket of Figs formed a prominent feature in the procession.----At Rome, the Fig was carried next to the Vine in the processions in honour of Bacchus, as the patron of plenty and joy; and Bacchus was supposed to have derived his corpulence and vigour, not from the Vine, but from the Fig. Under the name of the _Ficus ruminalis_, the Romans jealously guarded the sacred wild Fig-tree, upon the roots of which stranded the cradle containing the infants Romulus and Remus, when the Tiber bore it to the foot of the Palatine. Fig-trees are seldom affected by lightning, but this celebrated Ruminal Fig-tree of Rome was once struck during a thunderstorm, and was ever afterwards held doubly sacred; the ancients considering that lightning purified every object it touched. The Romans bestowed upon Jupiter the surname of Ruminus, because he presided over the nourishment of mankind, and they had a goddess Rumina, who presided over the female breasts, and whose oblations were of milk only. These words are both derived from _ruma_, a teat; and hence the tree under which Romulus and Remus had been suckled by the she-wolf was the _Rumina Ficus_, a name most appropriate, because the Fig was the symbol of generation and fecundity. The Fig was consecrated to Juno, as the goddess presiding over marriages and at nuptial festivities. Figs were always carried in a mystic vase. The statues of Priapus, god of orchards, were often made of the wood of the Fig, and the tree was also dedicated to Mercury. Notwithstanding this reverence for the _Ficus ruminalis_, the Romans considered the Fig a tree at once impure and ill-omened. This is shown by the actions of the Arvales (twelve priests of Rome, descended from the nurse of Romulus), who made special expiations when the Fig-tree--the impure tree--sprang up by chance on the roof of the temple of the goddess Dia, where Vestals officiated. After they had uprooted the desecrating tree, they destroyed the temple as being defiled.----Pausanias relates that, according to an oracle, the Messenians were to be abandoned by heaven in their struggles with the Spartans, so soon as a goat (_tragos_) should drink the water of the Neda: the Messenians, therefore, drove out of their country all the goats. But in Messenia grew the wild Fig, which was also called _tragos_. One of these wild Figs having sprung up on the banks of the Neda, its branches soon dipped into the flowing waters of the river beneath it. The oracle was fulfilled--a _tragos_ had drunk the water of the Neda: soon afterwards the Messenians were defeated.----The soothsayer Calchas, according to tradition, owed his death in a measure to the Fig-tree. Challenged by the seer Mopsus, of whom he was jealous, to a trial of their skill in divination, Calchas first asked his antagonist how many Figs a neighbouring tree bore. “Ten thousand except one,” was the reply of his rival, “and one single vessel can contain them all.” The Figs were carefully gathered, and his predictions were literally true. It was then the turn of Mopsus to try his adversary. Calchas failed to answer the question put to him, and Mopsus was adjudged victor. So mortified was Calchas at the result of this trial, that he pined away and died.----The ancient Egyptians held the Fig-leaf sacred to the goddess Isis.----The Fig is supposed to have been the first cultivated fruit tasted by man: beneath the boughs of the Fig-tree Adam hid himself after having eaten the forbidden fruit; with its leaves he endeavoured to hide his nakedness. Cakes of Figs were included in the presents of provisions by which the wife of Nabal appeased the wrath of David (1 Sam. XXV., 18). The want of blossom on the Fig-tree was considered as one of the most grievous calamities by the Jews; for, growing as it did in Palestine on the Vine, the tree became with the Israelites an emblem of peace and plenty, and that security which, in ancient times, was thought to be enjoyed by “every man under his own Fig-tree.” Near the city of On, there was shown for many centuries the sacred Fig-tree under which the Holy Family rested during the flight into Egypt.----St. Augustine tells us, in his Confessions, that while still unconverted and in deep communion with his friend Alypius on the subject of the Scriptures, the contest within his mind was so sharp, that he hastened from the presence of his friend and threw himself down beneath a Fig-tree, weeping and lamenting. Then he heard what seemed the voice of a child proceeding apparently from the tree, repeating again and again “_Tolle, lege_,” (Take and read); and returning to his friend, he took up the sacred volume, and opened it at St. Paul’s words: “Put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ.” He was struck with the coincidence; and considering it a Divine call, he then and there resolved to take up the religious profession.----In India, the Fig-tree is greatly esteemed; one species, _Ficus glomerata_, is held sacred by the Hindus; and the _Ficus Indica_, or Banyan-tree, is one of the most highly venerated trees on the earth (see BANYAN).----The Andalusians have a saying, “On this life depends,” in connection with the Fig-tree, the fruit of which they eat, fasting, in the morning. The Germans have a proverb, “Figs will not grow either on Brambles or Thistles.” Another proverb tells us that “He who has Figs has riches.”----In Sicily, the Fig-tree is looked upon as a tree of ill-omen. It is there thought to be the tree on which Judas hung himself, and never to have thrived well since that occurrance. There is an old superstition that in each leaf of a Fig-tree lurks an evil spirit; and certain blood-thirsty spectres, called _Fauni Ficarii_, are mentioned in legends.----At Avola, it is popularly believed to be unwise to sleep beneath the shade of a Fig-tree during the warmth of Summer; should, however, anyone be foolhardy enough to do so, there will appear before him the figure of a nun, holding a knife in her hand, who will compel him to say whether he will take it by the blade or by the handle; if he answer, by the blade, he will be forthwith slain; but should he select the handle, he will have all manner of good fortune in store for him.----In Palermo, they deck the Fig-tree with branches of the wild Fig woven into garlands, in order to ensure the fruit ripening.----A Fig-tree has something to do in the way of preventing hydrophobia, if we may believe the following ancient English superstition:--“For tear of mad hound, take the worms which be under a mad hound’s tongue, snip them away, lead them round about a Fig-tree, give them to him who hath been rent; he will soon be healed.”----To dream of Figs implies an accession of wealth, prosperity, and happiness, the realisation of wishes, and a happy old age.

=FILBERT.=--John Gower, in his _Confessio Amantis_, suggests that the origin of the word Filbert is to be sought in the metamorphosis of the Thracian princess Phyllis into a Nut-tree, or, more precisely, into the Almond; this view is strengthened by the fact that the old English names for both tree and nut was Fylberde, or Filberd; although another explanation of this word is that the tree was so called after a King Philibert. In olden times the distinction drawn between nuts of a good and those of the best quality, was by terming the former the short-bearded, and the latter the long-bearded, or full-bearded--whence, according to a popular belief, by corruption, Filbert.----Authorities in dream lore tell us that to dream of Filberts is a happy augury, a sign of good health and happy old age. It also denotes success in love, and happiness in the married state, with a numerous family, who will marry well, and occupy a high place in society.----Filbert-trees are held to be under the dominion of Mercury.

=FIR.=--The ancient Egyptians adopted the Fir-cone as the symbol of their goddess Isis.----The Fir is the Fire-tree, the most inflammable of woods. Gerarde writes of Firs in Cheshire, Staffordshire, and Lancashire, “where they grew in great plenty, as is reputed, before Noah’s floud; but then being overturned and overwhelmed, have lien since in the woods and waterie moorish grounds, very fresh and sound, untill this day; and so full of a resinous substance, that they burne like a torch or linke, and the inhabitants of those countries do call it Fir-wood and Fire-wood unto this day.”----In the traditions of northern countries, the Fir occupies a similar position to the Pine. He is king of the forest; and so, in Switzerland and the Tyrol, the Geni of the Forest is always represented with an uprooted Fir-tree in his hand. This Geni dwells by preference in the Fir, and especially loves old trees. When one of these trees is cut down, the Geni grieves, and pleads for its life. Old Firs, like old Oaks and Birches, are especially respected when standing solitary.----De Gubernatis relates an anecdote of a colossal Fir-tree which grew by itself, at Tarssok, in Russia. This tree had withstood several lightning-blasts, and was supposed to be several hundred years old, as shown by its barkless trunk and its bare branches. At last, in a gale of wind, it fell; but so great a respect had the country-people for the old tree, that they would not make any profit from the sale of the huge trunk, but presented the proceeds to the Church.----In Denmark, Sweden, Russia, and Germany, they use the Fir as the Christmas-tree, and this custom has now taken firm root in England.----Just as in many parts of Germany, on Christmas-night, they beat trees, so that they may bear fruit, so at Hildesheim in Hanover, at Shrove-tide, the peasantry solicit gifts from the women, whipping them meanwhile with branches of Fir or Rosemary. This curious custom is supposed to signify their desire to have children. In Northern Germany, newly-married couples often carry in their hands branches of Fir, with lighted candles affixed, perhaps in imitation of the Roman _fasces_. At Weimar, and other places, they plant Fir-trees before the house where a wedding has taken place. In Austrian Silesia, the May-pole is always of Fir. In the Harz, on Midsummer night, they decorate Fir-trees with flowers and coloured eggs, or, more generally, branches of Fir, which they stick in the ground, and dance around, singing the while some verses appropriate to the occasion. In Northern Germany, when they drive the cattle to pasture for the first time, they often decorate the last cow with small boughs of Firs, as showing their wish for a pasturage favourable to the fecundity of the cattle.----From wounds made in the Balm of Gilead Fir (_Abies Balsamea_), a very fine turpentine is obtained, which is sometimes sold as the true Balm of Gilead.----To dream you are in a forest of Fir-trees is a sign of suffering.----A Moldavian legend relates that, out of envy, the elder sister of a queen changed the two beautiful twin princes she had just given birth to, for two ugly black children, which she placed in their cradle instead. She then buried the young princes alive in the garden, and as soon as possible went to the king, and told him his queen had given birth to two odious black babies. The king in revenge shut up his wife in a dungeon, and made the elder sister his queen. Suddenly, among the flowers of the garden, there spring up two Fir-trees, who, in the evening, talk and confide to each other that they cannot rest whilst their mother is weeping in her lonely dungeon. Then they make themselves known to the poor ex-queen as her children, and tell her how much they love and pity her. Meanwhile the wicked queen awakes one night and listens. She is filled with dread, and makes the king promise that the two Fir-trees shall be cut down. Accordingly, the young trees are felled and thrown into the fire; when, immediately, two bright sparks fly out, and fall far away among the flowers: they are the two young princes, who have again escaped, and who are now determined to bring to light the crime of their detestable aunt. Some time after there is a grand festival at the king’s palace; and a great “claca” (assembly) is gathered there to string pearls for the queen. Among the guests appear two beautiful children, with golden hair, who seem to be twin brothers. Whilst the pearl-stringing goes on, stories are told by the guests, and at last it comes to the turn of the twin brothers, who relate the sad story of the imprisoned queen, and reveal the crime of her sister. As they speak, their pearls continue to string themselves in a miraculous manner, so that the king, observing this, knows that they are telling the truth. When their story is finished, he acknowledges them as his sons, restores their mother to her position as queen, and orders her wicked sister to be torn asunder by wild horses.

FLAG.--See Acorus and Iris.