Hawthorn

'The Hawthorn, according to ancient myths, originally sprang from the lightening: it has been revered as a sacred tree from the earliest times, and was accounted by the Greeks a tree of good augury and a symbol of conjugal union. After the rape of the Sabines, upon which occasion the shepherds carried Hawthorn-boughs, it was considered propitious; its blossoming branches were borne by those assisting at wedding festivities, and the newly married couple were lighted to the bridal chamber with torches of the wood. At the present day, the Greeks garland their brides with wreaths of Hawthorn, and deck the nuptial altar with its blossoms, whilst on May-day they suspend boughs of the flowering shrub over their portals. The ancient Germans composed their funeral-piles of Hawthorn wood, and consecrated it with the mallet, the symbol of the god Thor. They believed that in the sacred flame which shot upwards from the Thorn, the souls of the deceased were carried to heaven.

The Hawthorn has for centuries borne in England the favourite name of “May” from its flowering in the month:
“Between the leaves the silver Whitethorn shows
Its dewy blossoms pure as mountain snows.”

In olden times, very early on May-day morning, lads and lasses repaired to the woods and hedgerows, and returned, soon after sunrise, laden with posies of flowers, and boughs of blooming Hawthorn, with which to decorate the churches and houses: even in London boughs of May were freely suspended over the citizens’ doorways. Chaucer tells us how:

“Furth goth all the Courte, both most and lest,
To fetche the flouris freshe, and braunche, and blome,
And namely Hawthorne brought both page and grome,
With freshe garlandis partly blew and white,
And than rejoisin in their grete delighte.”

In Lancashire, at the present day, the Mayers still, in some districts, go from door to door, and sing:

“We have been rambling all this night,
And almost all this day;
And now returned back again,
We’ve brought you a branch of May.
A branch of May we have brought you,
And at your door it stands;
It is but a sprout, but it’s well budded out
By the work of our lord’s hands.”

Aubrey, writing in 1686, records that at Woodstock, in Oxfordshire, the people were accustomed to May-eve to go into the park and procure a number of Hawthorn-trees, which they set before their doors. In Huntingdonshire, on May-day morn, the young men used formerly to place, at sunrise, a branch of Hawthorn in blossom, before the door of anyone they wished to honour.

A curious superstition survives in Suffolk, where to sleep in a room, with the Hawthorn in bloom in it during the month of May, is considered, by country folk, to be unlucky, and sure to be followed by some great misfortune.

In some parts of Ireland, it is thought unlucky to bring blossoming Hawthorn indoors, and unsafe to gather even a leaf from certain old and solitary Thorns which grow in sheltered hollows of the moorlands, and on the fairies’ trysting places. It is considered unlucky to cut down a Hawthorn-tree, and in many parts the peasants refuse to do it: thus we read, in a legend of county Donegal, that a fairy had tried to steal one Joe McDonough’s baby, and, telling the story to her neighbours: “I never affronted the gentry (fairies) to my knowledge,” sighed the poor mother; “but Joe helped Mr. Todd’s gardener to cut down the old Hawthorn-tree on the lawn Friday was eight days: an’ there’s them that says that’s a very bad thing to do. I fleeched him not to touch it, but the master her offered him six shillings if he’d help wi’ the job, for the other men refused.” “That’s the way of it,” whispered the crones over their pipes and poteen – “that’s just it. The gude man has had the ill luck to displease the ‘gentry’, an’ there will be trouble in this house yet.”

Among the Pyrenean peasantry Hawthorn and Laurel are thought to secure the wearer against thunder. The inhabitants of Biarritz make Hawthorn wreaths on St. John’s Day: they then rush to the sea, plunge in after a prayer, and consider themselves sage during the ensuing twelve months from the temptation of evil spirits.

The old herbalists prescribe the distilled water of the Haws of the Hawthorn as an application suited to “any place where thorns or splinters doe abide in the flesh,” the result being that the decoction “will notably draw them out.” Lord Bacon tells us, that a “store of Haws portends cold winters.”

Among the Turks, a branch of Hawthorn expresses the wish of a lover to receive a kiss.

The Hawthorn attains to a great age, and its wood is remarkably durable: there is a celebrated tree enclosed in Cawdor Castle, near Inverness, which has stood from time immemorial. Tradition relates that the Castle was built over the tree in consequence of a dream, by which the original proprietor was instructed to erect a castle on this particular spot. From the most remote times it has been customary for guests to assemble themselves around this venerable tree, and drink success to the House of Cawdor.

The most remarkable of English Thorns is that known as the Glastonbury Thorn, which is reputed to have sprung from the staff of Joseph of Arimathea.

By astrologers the Hawthorn is placed under the dominion of Mars. Turner remarks that, should he “want weapons, he may make use of the prickles and let Saturn take the fruit.”

(Source : Plant Lore, Legend, and Lyrics – 1892 – Richard Folkard)