The Book of Herbs, Rosalind Northcote [best books to read for self development TXT] 📗
- Author: Rosalind Northcote
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With the wan poppy,”
were both dedicated to the moon.
Gentian is greatly valued and largely prescribed by our doctors, but Parkinson raises a curious echo from a time when, it is generally supposed, people were less “nice” than they are to-day. “The wonderful wholesomeness of Gentian cannot be easily knowne to us, by reason our daintie tastes refuse to take thereof, for the bitternesse sake, but otherwise it would undoubtedly worke admirable cures.” Valerian was, and is officinal, but seldom finds its way into “pottage” nowadays. Gerarde, however, writes: “It hath been had (and is to this day among the poore people of our Northerne parts) in such veneration amongst them, that no broths, pottage or physicall meats are worth anything if Setwall were not at an end: whereupon some woman Poet or other hath made these verses:
Must put Setwall in their keale (kail).”
The herbalist speaks of “Garden Valerian or Setwall” as if they were one and the same, but Mr Britten says that Setwall was not Valeriana officinalis but V. pyrenaica. All varieties seem to have been used as remedies, and in Drayton’s charming “Eclogue,” of which Dowsabel is the heroine, he shows that it was used as an adornment.
A maiden fair and free,
And for she was her father’s heir,
Full well she was ycond the leir,
Of mickle courtesy.
The silk well couth she twist and twine
And make the fine march-pine,
And with the needle-work;
And she couth help the priest to say
His mattins on a holy day
And sing a psalm in kirk....
The maiden in a morn betime,
Went forth when May was in the prime.
To get sweet setywall,
The honeysuckle, the harlock,
The lily and the ladysmock,
To deck her summerhall.”
A FIELD OF ENGLISH ACONITE
The summary of Dowsabel’s education is so delightful, that though it was irrelevant, I could not refrain from quoting it. Aconite, Wolfsbane, or Monkshood (Aconitum Napellus) was held in wholesome terror by the old herbalists, who described it as being most venomous and deadly. Gerarde says, “There hath beene little heretofore set downe concerning the virtues of the Aconite, but much might be said of the hurts that have come thereby.” Parkinson chiefly recommends it to “hunters of wild beastes, in which to dippe the heads of their arrows they shoote, or darts they throw at the wild beastes which killeth them that are wounded speedily”; but, he says, it may be used in outward applications. Aconite was first administered internally by Stoerck, who prescribed it for rheumatism, with good results, and it is now known to be sedative to the heart and respiratory organs, and to reduce temperature.
Other English-grown plants in the Pharmacopœia are: Anise, Artemisia maritima (Wormwood), Uvæ Ursi (Bearberries), Coriander, Caraway, Dill, Fennel, Flax (Linseed), Henbane, Wych-Hazel, Horse-Radish, Liquorice, Lavender, Mint, Mezereon, Musk, Mustard, Arnica, Pyrethrum, Rosemary, Squills, Saffron and Winter-green. In the making of Thymol, a preparation in common hospital use, Monarda punctata (Bergamot), Oil of Thyme and Carum copticus are used.
The following plants are not yet to be found in the Pharmacopœia, which includes those only that have been tried by very long experience, but leading physicians have prescribed these drugs with success. Convalleria, from Lily of the Valley; Salix nigra, from the Willow; Savin, Juniper; Rhus, Sumach; Aletris, Star-Grass; Lycopodium, Club-Moss; Grindelia; from Larkspur, Oil of Stavesacre; and from Broom, Spartein.
There are two plants that I do not like to omit, for their history’s sake, though their power to do good is no longer believed in, Plantain and Lungwort. The first was considered good for wounds in the days of Chaucer, and Shakespeare mentions it.
Romeo.Your plantain leaf is excellent for that.
Benvolio. For what, I pray thee?
Romeo.For your broken shin.
Romeo and Juliet, I. 2, 51.
Lungwort (Pulmonaria officinalis) owes its name and its reputation to the white spots on the leaves, which were thought to be the “signature,” showing that it would cure infirmities and ulcers of the lungs. It is remarkable how many popular names this flower has. Gerarde tells us that the leaves are used among pot-herbes, and calls it Cowslips of Jerusalem, Wild Comfrey and Sage of Bethlem; and other country names are, Beggar’s Basket, Soldiers and Sailors, Adam and Eve, and in Dorset, Mary’s Tears. The name Adam and Eve arose from the fact that some of the flowers are red and others blue: red, in earlier days, being usually associated with men and blue with women. One of Drayton’s prettiest verses alludes to it.
Nor pink, nor pansies, let there want, be sure of eglantine.
See that there be store of lilies,
(Call’d of shepherds daffadillies)
With roses, damask, white, and red, the dearest fleur-de-lis,
The cowslip of Jerusalem, and clove of Paradise.”
Eclogue III.
CHAPTER VIOF HERBS AND MAGIC
The kernel of the mistletow,
And here and there as Puck should go,
With terror to affright him.
There with her vervain and her dill,
That hindreth witches of their will,
Of purpose to dispight him.
That groweth underneath the yew,
With nine drops of the midnight dew
From lunary distilling.”
Nymphidia.—Drayton.
Hinders witches of their will.”
Guy Mannering.
Amongst the account-books of the Physic Garden in Chelsea, there is one on whose fly-leaf is scrawled a list of “Botanical Writers before Christ.” It begins:
Zoroaster. Orpheus. Moses. Solomon. Homer. Solon.Names that one hardly expects to find grouped together, and especially not under this heading. The vegetable world, however, has attracted writers since the earliest times, and in the days when supernatural agencies were almost always brought forward to account for uncomprehended phenomena, it was not marvellous that misty lore should lead to the association of plants and magic. The book of nature is not always easy to read, and the older students drew from it very personal interpretations. Some herbs were magical because they were used in spells and sorceries; others, because they had power in themselves. For instance, Basil, the perfume of which was thought to cause sympathy between two people, and in Moldavia they say it can even stop a wandering youth upon his way and make him love the maiden from whose hand he accepts a sprig. The Crocus flower, too, belongs to the second class, and brings laughter and great joy, and so it is with others. Plants were also credited with strong friendships and “enmities” amongst themselves. “The ancients” held strong views about their “sympathies and antipathies,” and this sympathy or antipathy was attributed to individual likes and dislikes. “Rue dislikes Basil,” says Pliny, “but Rue and the Fig-tree are in a great league and amitie” together. Alexanders loveth to grow in the same place as Rosemary, but the Radish is “at enmetie” with Hyssop. Savory and Onions are the better for each other’s neighbourhood, and Coriander, Dill, Mallows, Herb-Patience and Chervil “love for companie to be set or sowne together.” Bacon refers to some of these, but he took a prosaic view and thought these predilections due to questions of soil!
Being credited with such strong feelings amongst themselves, it is easier to understand how they were supposed to sympathise with their “environment.” Honesty, of course, grew best in a very honest man’s garden. Where Rosemary flourishes, the mistress rules. Sage will fade with the fortunes of the house and revive again as they recover; and Bay-trees are famous, but melancholy prophets.
The Bay-trees in our country are all wither’d.
Richard II. ii. 4.
From this, it is not a great step to acknowledge that particular plants have power to produce certain dispositions in the mind of man. So, the possession of a Rampion was likely to make a child quarrelsome: while, on the contrary, eating the leaves of Periwinkle “will cause love between a man and his wife.” Laurel greatly “composed the phansy,” and did “facilitate true visions,” and was also “efficacious to inspire a poetical fury” (Evelyn). Having admitted the power of herbs over mental and moral qualities, we easily arrive at the recognition of their power in regard to the supernatural. If, as Culpepper tells us, “a raging bull, be he ever so mad, tied to a Fig-tree, will become tame and gentle;” or if, as Pliny says, any one, “by anointing himself with Chicory and oile will become right amiable and win grace and favour of all men, so that he shal the more easily obtain whatsoever his heart stands unto,” it is not much wonder that St John’s Wort would drive away tempests and evil spirits, four-leaved Clover enable the wearer to see witches, and Garlic avert the Evil Eye. Thus many herbs are magical “in their own right,” so to speak, apart from those that are connected with magic, from being favourites of the fairies, the witches, and, in a few cases, the Evil One!
De Gubernatis quotes from a work on astrology attributed to King Solomon, and translated from the Hebrew (?) by Iroé Grego (published in Rome, 1750), with indignant comments on the “pagan” methods of the Church in dealing with sorceries. Directions how to make an aspersoir pour exorcisme are given in it, which, teaching, he says, simply add to the peasant’s existing load of superstition. Vervain, Periwinkle, Sage, Mint, Valerian, Ash and Basil are some of the plants chosen. “Tu n’y ajouteras point l’Hysope, mais le Romarin” (Rosemary). It is odd that Hyssop should be excluded, because it has always been a special defence against powers of darkness. In Palermo (again according to De Gubernatis), on the day of St Mark, the priests mount a hill in procession and bless the surrounding country, and the women gather quantities of the Hyssop growing about, and take it home to keep away from their houses the Evil Eye, and “toute autre influence magique.” Rosemary is celebrated, from this point of view, as from others. It was, say the Spaniards, one of the bushes that gave shelter to the Virgin Mary in the flight into Egypt, and it is still revered. Borrow, in “The Bible in Spain,” notices that, whereas in that country it is Romero, the Pilgrim’s Flower, in Portugal it is called Alecrim, a word of Scandinavian origin (from Ellegren, the Elfin plant), which was probably carried south by the Vandals. Other authorities think that “Alecrim” comes from the Arabians. The reference to Rosemary occurs in a delightful passage. Borrow was staying at an inn, when one evening “in rushed a wild-looking man mounted on a donkey.... Around his sombrero, or shadowy hat, was tied a large quantity of the herb, which in English is called Rosemary.... The man seemed frantic with terror, and said that the witches had been pursuing him and hovering over his head for the last two leagues.” On making inquiries, Borrow was told that the herb was “good against witches and mischances on the road.” He treats this view with great scorn, but says: “I had no time to argue against this superstition,” and with charming naïveté admits that, notwithstanding his austerity,
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