In the Flax-iields of Flanders, there grows a plant called the
Roodselken, the red spots on the leaves of which betoken the
blood which fell on it from the Cross, and which neither rain
nor snow has since been able to wash off. In Cheshire a similar
legend is attached to the Orchis maculata, which is there called
Gethsemane.
“ Those deep unwrought marks,
The villager will tell thee,
Are the flower’s portion from the atoning blood
On Calvary shed. Beneath the Cross it grew.”
In Palestine there exists a notion that the red Anemone grew
at the foot of the Cross, and hence the flower bears the name of
the “ Blood-drops of Christ.” The Wood Sorrel is introduced in
their paintings of the Crucifixion by the early Italian painters,
perhaps as symbolizing the Trinity with its triple leaf.
Whilst wearily bearing His Cross on the way to Calvary,
our Lord passed by the door of St. Veronica, who, with womanly
compassion, wiped with her kerchief the drops of agony from His
brow. The Redeemer’s features remained miraculously impressed
on the linen, and from that time the flowers of the wayside Speedwell
have ever borne a representation of the precious relic. In
Brittany it is said that whilst Christ was bearing His Cross a little
robin took from His mocking crown one of the thorns, steeped in
His blood, which dyed the robin’s breast ; henceforth the robin has
always been the friend of man.
“ Bearing His cross, while Christ passed forth forlorn,
His God-like forehead by the mock crown torn,
A little bird took from that crown one thorn,
To soothe the dear Redeemer’s throbbing head,
That bird did what she could ; His blood, ’tis said,
Down dropping, dyed her bosom red.”—J . H. Abrahall.
The early Spanish settlers of South America saw in the Flor
de las cinco llagas, the Flower of the Five Wounds, or Passion
Flower, a marvellous floral emblem of the mysteries of Christ’s
Passion, and the Jesuits eagerly adopted it as likely to prove useful
in winning souls to their faith.
An old legend, probably of monkish origin, recounts the emotions
of plants on the death of the Saviour of mankind.
The Pine of Damascus said :—As a sign of mourning, from
this day my foliage will remain sombre, and I will dwell in solitary
places.
The Willow of Babylon.—My branches shall henceforth incline
towards the waters of the Euphrates, and there shed the tears of
the East.
The Vine of Sorrento.—My grapes shall be black, and the wine
that shall flow from my side shall be called Lacryma Christi.
The Cypress of Carmel.—I will be the guest of the tombs, and
the testimony of grief.
The Yew.—I will be the guardian of graveyards. No bee shall
pillage with impunity my poisoned flowers. No bird shall rest on
my branches ; for my exhalations shall give forth death.
The Iris of Susa.—Henceforth I will wear perpetual mourning,
in covering with a violet veil my golden chalice.
The Day L ily .—I will shut every evening my sweet-smelling
corolla, and will only re-open it in the morning with the tears of the
night.
In the midst of these lamentations of the flowers the Poplar
alone held himself upright, cold, and arrogant as a free-thinker.
As a punishment for this pride, from that day forth, at the least
breath of wind it trembles in all its limbs. Revolutionists have,
therefore, made it the Tree of Liberty.
ree o]^ (iniioarlot.
In connection with the Crucifixion of our Lord many trees have
had the ill-luck of bearing the name of the traitor Judas—the
disciple who, after he had sold his Master, in sheer remorse, and.
despair went and hanged himself on a tree.
of Suiias* From Manndevilds Travels..
The Fig, the Tamarisk, the Wild Carob, the Aspen, the Elder,
and the Dog Rose have each in their turn been mentioned as the
tree on which the suicide was committed. As regards the Fig,
popular tradition affirms that the tree, after Judas had hung himself
on it, never again bore fruit; that the F ig was the identical Fig-tree
cursed by our Lord ; and that all the wild Fig-trees sprang from
this accursed tree. According to a Sicilian tradition, however,
Judas did not hang himself on a F ig but on a Tamarisk-tree called
Vruca [Tamarix Africana) : this Vruca is now only a shrub, although
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