The custom still remains also in America and Great Britain. In Wales, when a young girl dies, her female companions bring flowers with them to her funeral, and place them in her coffin. They plant lilies and snow-drops over the graves of children, and wild and cultivated roses over those of adults.
Gwillym, a Welsh poet, thus speaks of the custom in one of his elegies:—“Oh! while the season of flowers and the tender sprays, thick of leaves, remain, I will pluck the roses from the brakes, to be offered to the memory of a child of fairest fame; humbly will I lay them on the grave of Ivor.”
Evelyn tells us that “the white rose was planted at the grave of a virgin, and her chaplet was tied with white riband, in token of her spotless innocence; though sometimes black ribands were intermingled, to bespeak the grief of the survivors. The red rose was occasionally used in remembrance of such as had been remarkable for their benevolence; but roses in general were appropriated to the graves of lovers.”
Drummond, the Scotch poet, requested one of his friends to have the following couplet placed over his grave:
“Here Damon lies, whose songs did sometimes grace
The murmuring Esk:—may roses shade the place.”
The first Christians disapproved of the use of these flowers, either at their festivals or as ornaments for their tombs, on account of its connection with the pagan mythology, and the custom thus became extinct. Tertullian wrote a book against crowns and garlands. Clement of Alexandria thought it improper that Christians should crown themselves with roses. A little later, however, Christians relaxed from this strictness, and the Christian poet Prudence did not fear to invite his brethren “to cover with violets and with verdure, and to surround with perfumes those bones which the voice of the All-Powerful would one day restore to life.”
The Roman Catholics of this day admit flowers to their churches and ceremonies, and on feast days they adorn the altars with bouquets and garlands. At the most imposing of these solemnities, the day of the “Fête-Dieu,” rose petals, during the procession, are scattered in the air, and blended with the perfume of censers, directed towards the Host; in many of the towns, particularly those in the south of France and of Europe, the streets through which the procession passes are scattered throughout with fragrant herbs and flowers of every kind.
Since the extinction of paganism in a greater part of the world, the custom of wearing crowns of flowers at festivals has passed entirely away. Women only use roses as an ornament for their hair, or employ them in different parts of their toilet. In our own country the toilet of a bride is never considered perfect unless she wears a wreath of roses or other flowers, whose snow-white hue is an emblem of her departing maidenhood. Sometimes she is provided only with a bouquet of white roses and camellias, and her bridesmaids wear similar ornaments of nature’s manufacture.
The Rose is abundantly used by children in their beautiful celebration of May-day. We well recollect our enjoyment of one of these scenes some years since. We were returning from a ride in the vicinity of Charleston, S.C., on the first day of this, the sunniest of the months of spring—a day dedicated not to the spirit of motion, and celebrated not by processions of furniture carts, amid the bustle and noise of a populous city, but dedicated there, at the sunny South, to innocent and joyous festivity, and celebrated amid all the fresh and fragrant luxuriance of southern vegetation, surrounded by the delicate sweetness of the magnolia, the Rose, and other flowers, while the mocking-bird, with its sweet and varied note, was the minstrel for the occasion. Riding quietly along the road, we were suddenly stopped by a procession which had just dismounted from a number of carriages in a beautiful grove hard by. It consisted mostly of noble-looking boys and beautiful girls, of all ages under fourteen, the latter dressed in white and crowned with wreaths of roses and other flowers. The manly attention of the boys to the fair creatures with whom they walked hand in hand would not have disgraced the gallantry of Bayard, or the politeness of Chesterfield. As the procession wound slowly from our view, under the shade of the lofty live oak and the rich magnolia, we could not help reflecting how beautiful was this graceful enjoyment of the sunny days of childhood, and how preferable to the mental excitement and precocious training of many of the infant philosophers of this most enlightened nineteenth century.
It is much to be regretted that in circles where fashion reigns supreme, nature is gradually giving way to art, and instead of the fresh and natural beauty of a newly gathered Rose, various forms of artificial flowers are found upon the center table, or in the hair of those whose quick discernment and refined taste should lead them to perceive the great inferiority of these artificial toys to the delicate beauty and welcome fragrance of a Rose just from its parent plant.