Aye remembered his hapless lot;
And she cherished the flower of brilliant hue,
And braided her hair with the blossoms blue,
And she called it Forget-me-not.”
According to Grimm, the original Forget-me-not was a certain Luck-flower, concerning which there is a favourite legend in Germany (see Key-flower).
And there is another traditional origin of the flower, which for antiquity should have the precedence of all others. According to this version, Adam, when he named the plants in Paradise, cautioned them not to forget what he called them. One little flower, however, was heedless, and forgot its name. Ashamed of its inattention and forgetfulness, the flower asked the father of men, “By what name dost thou call me?” “Forget-me-not,” was the reply; and ever since that humble flower has drooped its head in shame and ignominy.——A fourth origin of the name “Forget-me-not” is given by Miss Strickland in her work on the Queens of England. Writing of Henry of Lancaster (afterwards Henry IV.), she says:—“This royal adventurer, the banished and aspiring Lancaster, appears to have been the person who gave to the Myosotis its emblematical and poetical meaning, by writing it, at the period of his exile, on his collar of S.S., with the initial letter of his mot or watchword, Souveigne vous de moy, thus rendering it the symbol of remembrance.” It was with his hostess, at the time wife of the Duke of Bretagne, that Henry exchanged this token of goodwill and remembrance.——The Italians call the Myosotis, Nontiscordar di me, and in one of their ballads represent the flower as the embodiment of the spirit of a young girl who was drowned, and transformed into the Myosotis growing by the river’s banks.——The ancient English name of the Myosotis palustris was Mouse-Ear-Scorpion-Grass; “Mouse-Ear” describing the oval leaves, and “Scorpion” the curve of the one-sided raceme, like a scorpion’s tail.——According to some investigators, the Forget-me-not is the Sun-flower of the classics—the flower into which poor Clytie was metamorphosed—the pale blossom which, says Ovid, held firmly by the root, still turns to the sun she loves. Cæsalpinus called it Heliotropium, and Gerarde figured it as such. (See [Heliotrope]).——The Germans are fond of planting the Forget-me-not upon their graves, probably on account of its name; for the beauty of the flower is lost if taken far from the water.——It is said that after the battle of Waterloo, an immense quantity of Forget-me-nots sprung up upon different parts of that sanguinary field, the soil of which had been enriched by the blood of heroes.——A writer in ‘All the Year Round’ remarks, that possibly the story of the origin of the Forget-me-not’s sentimental designation may have been in the mind of the Princess Marie of Baden, that Winter day, when, strolling along the banks of the Rhine with her cousin, Louis Napoleon, she inveighed against the degeneracy of modern gallants, vowing they were incapable of emulating the devotion to beauty that characterised the cavaliers of olden times. As they lingered on the causeway-dykes, where the Neckar joins the Rhine, a sudden gust of wind carried away a flower from the hair of the princess, and sent it into the rushing waters. “There!” she exclaimed, “that would be an opportunity for a cavalier of the olden days to show his devotion.” “That’s a challenge, cousin,” retorted Louis Napoleon, and in a second he was battling with the rough waters. He disappeared and reappeared to disappear and reappear again and again, but at length reached the shore safe and sound with his cousin’s flower in his hand. “Take it, Marie,” said he, as he shook himself; “but never again talk to me of your cavalier of the olden time.”
FOXGLOVE.—The name of Digitalis (from digitale, a thimble or finger-stall) was given to the Foxglove in 1542, by Fuchs, who remarks that hitherto the flower had remained unnamed by the Greeks and Romans. Our forefathers sometimes called it the Finger-flower, the Germans named it Fingerhut, and the French Gantelée—names all bestowed on account of the form of the flower, regarding which Cowley fancifully wrote—
“The Foxglove on fair Flora’s hand is worn,
Lest while she gather flowers, she meet a thorn.”
The French also term the Foxglove Gants de Notre Dame and Doigts de la Vierge. Various explanations have been given as to the apparently inappropriate English name of Foxglove, which is, however, derived from the Anglo-Saxon Foxes-glof; and was presumably applied to the flower from some bygone connection it had with the fox, and its resemblance to a glove-finger. Dr. Prior’s explanation is worth quoting, however, if only for its ingenuity. He says: “Its Norwegian names, Rev-bielde, Fox-bell, and Reveleika, Fox-Music, are the only foreign ones that allude to that animal; and they explain our own, as having been, in the first place, foxes-glew, or music (Anglo-Saxon gliew), in reference to a favourite instrument of earlier times, a ring of bells hung on an arched support—a tintinnabulum—which this plant, with its hanging bell-shaped flowers, so exactly represents.”——The Foxglove is the special fairy flower: in its spotted bells the “good folk” delight to nestle. It is called in Ireland, Lusmore, or the Great Herb, and also Fairy-cap—a retreat in which the merry little elves are said to hide themselves when a human foot approaches to disturb their dances. The bending of the plant’s tall stalks is believed to denote the presence of supernatural beings, to whom the flower is making its obeisance. In the Irish legend of Knockgrafton, the hero, a poor hunchback, reputed to have a great knowledge of herbs and charms, always wears a sprig of the Fairy-cap, or Lusmore, in his little straw hat, and hence is nicknamed Lusmore. The Shefro, or gregarious fairy, is represented as wearing the corolla of the Foxglove on his head. Browne describes Pan as seeking these flowers as gloves for his mistress:—