“An Herbal for the Bible, containing a plaine and familiar exposition of such Similitudes, Parables, and Metaphors, both in the Olde Testament and the Newe, as are borrowed and taken from Herbs, Plants, Trees, Fruits, and Simples, by observation of their vertues, qualities, natures, properties, operations and effects: and by the Holie Prophets, Sacred Writers, Christ Himselfe, and His blessed Apostles usually alledged, and into their heauenly Oracles, for the better beautifieng and plainer opening of the same, profitably inserted. Drawen into English by Thomas Newton, imprinted at London by Edmund Bollifant, 1587.”
The Ambrosia often referred to by the old writers and by more modern poets was originally the food of the gods, nectar being the drink. It is in this sense referred to by Homer and Ovid, though afterwards the two ingredients of the Olympian bill of fare became a good deal confused together; thus in the beautiful fable of Cupid and Psyche, in the “Golden Ass” of Apuleius, we find Jupiter conferred on Psyche the gift of immortality by giving her a cup of ambrosia to drink. The term was also sometimes used as descriptive of anything delicious to the taste, fragrant in perfume, or welcome to the eye, from the idea that whatever was used by the immortals, associated with them as an attribute, or that would be grateful in any way to them must be surpassingly excellent. Thus we read in the Iliad of the “ambrosial curls” of Zeus, a somewhat extreme case of departure from the ordinarily limited sense in which the word was most commonly used.[36] As the word ambrosia means literally “not mortal,” it could evidently in this more extended sense be applied by Homer with perfect propriety to the curls or aught else that pertained to the ruler of Olympus.
[36] “He spoke, and awful bends his sable brows,
Shakes his ambrosial curls, and gives the nod,
The stamp of fate and sanction of the god:
High heaven with trembling the dread signal took,
And all Olympus to the centre shook.”
—Iliad, Book I. lines 683-87. [Back]
In the South Kensington Museum may be seen a picture by Francis Danby, bearing the title of “The Upas-tree of the Island of Java.” The whole picture is exceedingly dark, but one can just discern in the centre of it the form of a tree, and around this are human bodies and skeletons. The myth of the upas has been created on the very smallest data, and furnishes a striking example of how great a structure of error, not to say gross and wilful exaggeration, can be reared on a basis of truth. The neighbourhood of the tree is unhealthy, not on account of anything in the tree itself, but because it grows in the hot and humid valleys of Java, rank with malaria and fever. A Dutch physician, named Foersch, published in 1783 a narrative of his visit to the island, and amongst his wild statements we find that where the upas grows “not a tree or blade of grass is to be found in the valley or the surrounding mountains, not a bird, beast, reptile, or living thing lives in its neighbourhood.” He adds that “on one occasion 1600 refugees encamped within fourteen miles of it, and all but 300 died within two months:” this might easily arise from the malarial vapours, but his picture of the tree standing in the midst of the desolation it had itself created is utterly at variance with the facts. So entirely do the actual facts belie the legend that nothing prospers in its neighbourhood, it is found in the midst of the rich vegetation of the tropics, while the birds perch in its ample branches, and the wild beasts prowl beneath them. So far is it from being the case, to quote one of our own poets, that “Fierce in dead silence on the blasted heath fell upas sits, the hydra tree of death,”—the last relic of the marvellous is gone, when we recall the fact that thousands of holiday-makers have passed harmlessly through the hothouses at Kew, where a specimen of the plant may be seen, and that the refugees from London more or less permanently encamped within a mile or two of it have so far escaped damage from its proximity. The Upas belongs to the same family as the invaluable bread-fruit and cow-tree, but, instead of possessing their beneficent properties, yields, when wounded, a thick milky fluid of a very poisonous nature, and which is employed by the natives on their arrows and spear-heads with deadly effect.
The first published account of the Upas-tree will be found in De Brys “India Orientalis,” but the scanty particulars of the earlier author become considerably amplified in Sir Thomas Herbert’s book of travels, published in London in the year 1634, and entitled “Relations of some yeares Travaile.” A little later on, in 1688, we find the tree again referred to in the “Description historique du Royaume de Macaçar” of Father Gervaise. The author, who had really resided in Macassar for several years, affirms that the mere touch or smell of some of the poisons produced by the natives is sufficient to produce death, and one of the most deadly of these was said by him to be produced from the sap of the Upas. He tells us that arrows dipped in this juice were as fatal in their effects twenty years afterwards as at their first preparation. In Kœmpfer’s book, published in the year 1712, we have the plant again described; a large mixture of fable is at once apparent, but much of this he gives on the authority of the natives, and he takes occasion to express his strong doubts of their veracity. According to him, or them, the collection of the sap is attended with imminent peril, for not only must the seeker after the tree penetrate far into places infested with wild beasts, but he must, when he has found the object of his search, be careful to pierce it on the side from whence the wind blows, or he would quickly be suffocated by the noxious effluvia given forth when the tree is wounded.
“Lo! from one root, the envenomed soil below,
A thousand vegetative serpents grow;
In shining rays the scaly monster spreads
O’er ten square leagues his far-diverging heads;
Or in one trunk entwists his tangled form,
Looks o’er the clouds and hisses in the storm.
Steeped in fell poison, as his sharp teeth part,
A thousand tongues in quick vibration dart;
Snatch the proud eagle towering o’er the heath,
Or pounce the lion, as he stalks beneath;
Or strew, as marshall’d hosts contend in vain,
With human skeletons the whitened plain.”
Apart from the evil influence exerted on Europeans by climatic and miasmatic drawbacks, the mountain of mystery that has been reared around the dread name of Upas has but little foundation in fact. Its juice is very plentifully yielded, and is of a virulently poisonous character, and even its smell is injurious. In clearing ground near the Upas the natives dread to approach it on this account; but unless the trunk is severely wounded or the tree felled the injurious effects are in the imagination only, and the tree may be approached or ascended with impunity. The Upas is one of the largest of the forest trees of Java, and it is surrounded as other trees are with the usual sturdy vegetation of the tropical wilderness.
The Rev. Dr. Parker, a well-known missionary in Madagascar, gives a description of two trees that recall in their detail much that has hitherto in an especial degree been ascribed to the Upas. In both these species the leaf is spear-head shaped, dark green in colour, very glossy in surface, and very hard and brittle to the touch, and both exude a thick milky juice, while the fruit is like a long black pod, the end being red. One species is a tree with large leaves and a somewhat peculiar stem, as the bark hangs down in long flakes and shows a fresh growth of bark forming beneath and preparing to take the place of the old bark as it falls. The other species is a shrub, with smaller leaves, and the bark not peeling off the stem. Both species are said to possess the power of poisoning any living creatures that approach them, the symptoms of poisoning being severe headache, bloodshot eyes, and a delirium that is presently hushed in death. These trees are natives of Zululand, and only a few persons are believed to have the power of collecting the fruits of the Umdhlebi, and these dare not approach the tree except from the windward side. They also sacrifice a goat or sheep to the demon of the tree. The fruit is collected for the purpose of being used as an antidote to the poisonous effects of the tree from whence they fall, for only the fallen fruit may be collected. As regards habitat, these trees grow on all kinds of soil, but the tree-like species prefers barren and rocky ground. In consequence of the fears of the natives the country around one of these trees is always uninhabited, although in other respects fertile and desirable.
In Persia, we are told, there is a plant, the Kerzereh flower, that loads the air with deathly odour, and that if a man inhales the hot south wind that passes over these flowers during June and July it kills him. Moore, in his Poem of “The Veiled Prophet of Khorassan,” alludes to this belief in the lines—
“With her hands clasp’d, her lips apart and pale,
The maid had stood, gazing upon the veil
From whence these words, like south winds through a fence
Of Kerzrah flowers, came filled with pestilence.”