The Rose 
The Rose THE lavish use of roses by the luxurious Romans in their feasts led the early Christians to discourage at first what had been so closely associated with effeminate voluptuousness. Yet the rose soon became once more surrounded by sacred legends and traditions. In the old Scandinavian mythology the rose had been held sacred to Hulda, as in Rome to Venus and Hymen. But Christianity, as happened in other cases, adopted and gave a new meaning to old-world customs. Thus the rose came to be regarded as the special flower of the Virgin Mary. Roses were said to have sprung beneath her feet. Tradition reported that roses and lilies were found in her tomb after her assumption into heaven. The month of May, which, in the old mythology, had been Maia’s month, became the month of the Madonna, and pious Roman Catholic folk keep roses in the oratory all that month. Both white and red roses were assigned to the festival of the Visitation of our Lady (July 2nd), whilst on St. Mary Magdalen’s day (July 22nd) roses were said to fade. The Virgin Mary was called the Rose of Roses, the Rose of Grace and Sweetness; and the Italian poet Dante speaks of “The Rose in which the Divine word was made flesh.”
With some truth it might be said that:
Roses, then,
First seen on earth since Paradise was lost,
Profusely bloom around her white and red,
In all their rich variety of hues.
At St. Peter’s, in Rome, there was formerly, on mid-Lent Sunday, the ceremony of blessing the golden rose, which was afterwards sent by the Pope, as a sign of special favour, to some distinguished prince. Thus one was given to Louis VII. of France, afterwards to a Doge of Venice, to the Emperor Sigismund, to our Henry VI., and, curiously enough, on two occasions to Henry VIII.
There was also a quaint custom in France; lasting until the sixteenth century, called the Baillée des Roses – a tribute of roses from the peers of France to the Parliament, when sitting in April, May and June.
Then we find that in London, Ely House, Holborn, was let on lease for 21 years to Sir Christopher Hatton, for a rent of red roses, the right being given to the lessor of gathering 20 bushels of roses every year. To this day the Warden of St. Olave’s School in London receives a bouquet of roses as rent of a piece of land, which was leased in 1656 for ‘a term of 500 years’, at the yearly rent of a red rose payable at midsummer if lawfully demanded.
In ancient times the rose was valued for the wonderful effects which were attributed to its use in medicine. Preparations of roses were supposed to be useful in hydrophobia, in toothache, earache, in internal troubles, in faintness, and for external wounds, as well as for many other human ills. Homer, even in his day, speaks of ‘applying sovereign force of rosy balms.’ The great Arabic philosopher Avicenna (AD 980–1037), styled the ‘Prince of Physicians’, also advocates their use. What further magical effects were sometimes expected may be gathered from the following old recipe:– ‘Mix oil of roses with a grain of mustard, a weasel’s foot, olive oil and sulphur; anoint your house with this during sunshine, and the whole house will appear on fire.’ More wonderful still, Apuleius, in his novel, makes a donkey become a man on eating roses!
It is curious to note the various ancient legendary accounts given of the origin of red roses. It used to be said that white roses became red from the blood of Adonis, slain by a wild boar; but the Latin poet Catullus says they became red from having pricked the foot of Venus hastening to her loved one. Then there is the tale that Cupid, in dancing, upset a bowl of heavenly nectar, and thus first dyed roses.
Very numerous are the legends connected with the rose, some of them pure fairy tales, such as the Italian story of the Rosa Fatata (enchanted), when a merchant, being asked by his daughter to bring her a rose tree as a present, goes one day to a garden and selects one, when a monster appears, obliges him to return with his daughter, with whom the monster then falls in love; on her promising to marry him he becomes a handsome prince, each rose tree a city, and so on; for he had been enchanted, and the spell could only be broken when he should be redeemed by the love of a maiden.
Dreams of roses were said to foretell long life and happiness; of withered roses unhappiness and death. If on earth Venus herself finds a rival in the rose, the eternal heaven in which she was supposed to dwell has been called ‘the garden of roses.’ It is surely not the fear of withering blooms or of fleeting beauty which inspired that last thought, but rather Shakespeare’s happy reminder of lovely roses that ‘Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made.’
