Though scarcely to be characterised as “funereal,” there are some plants which have obtained a sinister reputation as either predicting death themselves, or being associated in some manner with fatal portents. Mannhardt tells us of a gloomy Swiss tradition, dating from the fifteenth century, which relates that the three children of a bootmaker of Basle having each in their garden a favourite tree, carefully studied the inflorescence during Lent. As the result of their close observation, the two sisters, Adelaide and Catherine, saw from the characteristics of the blossoms that they were predestined to enter a convent; whilst the boy Jean attentively watched the development of a red Rose, which predicted his entry into the Church and his subsequent martyrdom: as a matter of fact, it is said he was martyred at Prague by the Hussites.
The Greeks regarded Parsley as a funereal herb, and were fond of strewing the tombs of their dead with it: hence it came in time to be thought a plant of evil augury, and those who were on the point of death were commonly spoken of as being in need of Parsley. Something of this association of Parsley with death is still to be found in Devonshire, where a belief exists that to transplant Parsley is an offence against the guardian spirit who watches over the Parsley-beds, surely to be punished, either by misfortune or death, on the offender himself or some member of his family within a year.
In the Siebenbürgen of Saxony, the belief exists that at the moment when an infant dies in the house, Death passes like a shadow into the garden, and there plucks a flower.
In Italy, the red Rose is considered to be an emblem of an early death, and it is thought to be an evil omen if its leaves are perchance scattered on the ground. An apt illustration of this belief is found in the tragic story of poor Miss Ray, who was murdered at the Piazza entrance of Covent Garden Theatre, by a man named Hackman, on April 7th, 1779. Just prior to starting with her friend Mrs. Lewis for the theatre, a beautiful Rose fell from her bosom to the ground. She stooped to regain it, but at her touch the red leaves scattered themselves on the carpet, leaving the bare stalk in her hand. The unfortunate girl, who had been depressed in spirits before, was evidently affected by the incident, and said nervously, “I trust I am not to consider this as an evil omen!” Soon rallying, however, she cheerfully asked Mrs. Lewis to be sure and meet her after the theatre—a request the fulfilment of which was prevented by her untimely fate.
Shakspeare has recorded that the withering of the Bay was looked upon as a certain omen of death; and it is an old fancy that if a Fir-tree be struck, withered, or burnt with lightning, the owner will soon after be seized with a mortal illness.
Herrick, in his ‘Hesperides,’ alludes to the Daffodil as being under certain circumstances a death portent.
“When a Daffodill I see
Hanging down her head t’wards me,
Guess I may what I must be:
First, I shall decline my head;