Simples and Simplers

WHEN chemistry had become elevated to an equal rank with the other exact sciences, physicians, who in the days of alchemy and astrology had dealt almost exclusively in simples, discarded from their practice the greater part of the herbs of the old pharmacopoeias, and used in the place of them the more certain and efficacious preparations of the laboratory. The metals, in the various forms of oxides, carbonates, chlorides, sulphurets, and other chemical compositions, were proved to be more decided and commensurable in their action upon the human system than roots and herbs. Chemistry took the place of botany to a great extent in the healing art, and caused a gradual separation of the practice from the dispensation of medicine. The apothecary assumed the department of preparing and compounding the drugs used by the physician ; and as the medical faculty dropped the general use of simples, the dispensation of them naturally fell into the hands of certain individuals of the female sex. They became the conservators of ancient medical notions which science had rejected, and gradually introduced a sort of domestic practice which is not yet entirely discontinued.

They were indeed the traditional followers of the practice of the early physicians, when they were simplers and astrologers, and administered to the wants of those people who believed the herbs of the field to be the only safe remedies for disease. Their botanical knowledge was confined to the mere identification of plants, and to certain ancient classifications of medical herbs made on a somewhat arbitrary principle, and dictated by a love of formal arrangement that distinguished the learned of the Middle Ages. They knew the “ Four Great Carminative Hot Seeds, and the Four Lesser Hot Seeds ; the Four Cold Seeds, and the Four Lesser Cold Seeds; the Five Opening Roots, and the Five Lesser Opening Roots ; the Five Emollient Herbs ; the Five Capillary Herbs ; the Four Sudorific Woods ; the Four Cordial Flowers ; the Four Carminative Flowers, and the Four Resolvent Meals.” Here was a botanical arrangement of plants precisely like that of the Five Orders of Architecture. Though extremely artificial, it was founded on the real or supposed properties of the plants included in it. Its formality suited the taste and assisted the memory of the simplers. They could understand it, and they were proud of their knowledge, because they derived from it an important consideration in their own village.

There was no danger in trusting one’s health to the judgment and mercy of these honest women. They were not guilty, like our modern inventors of patent medicines, of furnishing a powerful drug disguised in a decoction of some popular herb. Their teas, syrups, and fomentations ; their lotions, quilts, diet drinks, and electuaries were made from the herbs which were specified among their ingredients, and were safe even when injudiciously applied. They dealt in no dangerous remedies ; some were only cordial beverages, some were mild emetics, tonics, and refrigerants, and very many of them were entirely inert, but like an amulet soothing to the mind. In the days of our grandmothers, almost every garden contained the herbs of their simple dispensatory ; and every neighborhood was graced by a goodly number of housewives who were versed in all details in the administration of them. In these old gardens were mints of every sort, basil, rosemary, fennel, tansy, spikenard, blessed thistle, and saffron. No garden was considered properly furnished if it were wanting in any of the herbs that might be required by the sick of the neighborhood. Flowers cultivated for their beauty were also the occupants of these gardens ; roses, in particular, which were as needful in their dispensation as the chief of the cordial herbs.

The mints were held in great esteem by these charitable dames. They paid special attention to spearmint, — regarded as the mint of mints, — the smell of which was believed to “ corroborate the brain and increase and preserve the memory,” and it was venerated like one of the holy herbs. Hardly less value was affixed to the basil, once considered a “ royal plant,” on account of its excellent properties. It is remarkable that in the time of the ancient Romans, the basil was believed to possess the power of breeding serpents. Hence when they sowed the seeds of this plant they bestowed curses upon it, that it might be dispossessed of its nefarious properties by their maledictions. This notion did not descend to the English people. By them and by our simplers it was cherished for its sweet smell, which was “good for the heart and the head ” ; also for its “ seed that cureth the infirmities of the heart, and taketh away sorrowfulness which cometh of melancholy, and maketh a man merry and glad.” The sweet-marjoram, which still retains its popularity as a savory herb, was famous in these old gardens, and then known as the celebrated “ Dittany of Crete.” At present it is not used as a medicine in any form ; but the simplers believed it to be efficacious in restoring the sense of smell when it was lost, and it was noted for its vulnerary powers.

Many of the herbs of their dispensatory were formerly dedicated to the Virgin or to some worshipful saint, and were considered holy. Probably in some cases their supposed medical virtues were deduced from their sanctity; in other cases their real virtues may have caused them to be religiously consecrated. It does not appear that sectarian prejudice caused any distrust, in their Protestant minds, of the merits of a plant which had derived its sanctity from Roman-Catholic usages. Among the early Romans plants were supposed to derive their virtues from some rural deity to whom they were dedicated ; and the curative powers of mineral waters were attributed to the nymph who presided over the spring; and those who drank at the fountain worshipped the beautiful goddess from whose divine qualities its virtues emanated. When the heathen world was converted to the religion of Christ, these superstitions changed their character, but were not cast aside. Holy wells and fountains still retained the veneration of men ; but their virtues were ascribed to saints, and not to water-nymphs.

A savor of romance still adheres to many of the holy plants, derived from the incidents that led to their consecration. The costmary, an Italian plant not uncommon in our gardens, having a very agreeable aromatic odor and some peculiar balsamic properties, was, on account of the purity of its fragrance, dedicated to the Virgin. In its sensible qualities it unites the balm and the tansy. The blessed thistle, another of the holy herbs, is one of those plants that may be compared to certain good people whose virtues are all of a passive sort, and who are chiefly remarkable for the odor of sanctity that distinguishes them. Some other herbs have won their reputation from their supposed identity with certain plants mentioned in Scripture. There are likewise holy shrubs, as the waybread and the wayfaring-tree, — names highly suggestive and romantic. Others, like the witch-elm and the witch-hazel, are associated with divination and magic. In Great Britain, where the habits of the people are still under traditional influences in a much greater degree than those of the same classes in this country, a profound respect is still paid to the holy herbs; and bands of simplers — believers in the panaceas of the field and garden — still continue their avocation and are in popular repute in many old English towns.

During the infancy of modern science, when theology was mingled with all the exercises of the mind, and when it was believed that everything was created for man’s especial use, all plants were supposed, as a doctrine of religious faith, to contain some qualities, discovered or undiscovered, which were intended by Providence for the sustenance, protection, ,and clothing of man, or for the cure of his diseases. The flowerless plants, now known to be without any curative properties, were then extensively used in medicine, from the pious supposition that, as they are useless for food or for employment in the practical arts, they must be intended by Divine Providence for medicines. In that romantic era, pillows were filled with the substance of a kind of moss which was supposed to be useful for procuring sleep. The family of mosses from which this substance was obtained, in accordance with the use made of it, received from the early botanists the name of hypnum, from a Greek word that signifies ‘‘sleep.” This was afterwards combined with other products, such as poppy leaves, wormwood, the petals of the peony, and the flowers of hops, and used for similar purposes in the form of quilts. These substances were placed between two pieces of cotton or linen, and quilted into a cap to be worn on the head for the headache. They were made also in other forms, to be laid upon any part affected with inflammation or nervous pains. Dr. Fuller, in his “ One Thousand Receipts,” gives directions for preparing more than a dozen different quilts for the cure of certain local dis-eases.

The doctrine of signatures, believed by the whole Christian world in the Middle Ages, was a theory of religious philosophy, and shows the intimate connection existing in that era between theology and medicine. According to this theory every natural substance that possesses any curative power indicates by its external appearance the disease for which it is a remedy. The partisans of this doctrine affirmed that, since man is the lord of creation, all creatures are designed for his use ; and that therefore their properties must be designated by such a character as every one can understand. Hence turmeric, or Indian saffron, which has a brilliant yellow color, indicates thereby its power of curing the jaundice, By the same rule poppies were believed to be a cure for diseases of the head, because both their seeds and flowers form a head. A beautiful flower called euphrasia, or eye-bright, resembling a dandelion with a dark,’velvety centre, was used for diseases of the eye, because this dark round centre bears a likeness to the pupil of the eye. In this doctrine we find an anticipation of the homoeopathic theory of “like cures like.” Nettle-tea in England still continues to be a popular remedy for nettle-rash. When the son of Edward I. was attacked with the small-pox, he was, by order of his (homoeopathic) physicians, wrapped in scarlet cloth, and his attendants were clothed in the same manner, from an idea that a scarlet-colored disease would yield to scarlet remedies. The historians of the day affirm that he recovered without so much as a mark left upon him, owing to this extraordinary remedy.

The flowers of saffron, of a bright scarlet color, which are administered in the form of tea for scarlet-fever and other eruptive diseases, derived all their reputation from the homoeopathic doctrine of signatures, expressed in the words similia similibus curantur. Hence likewise the celebrated botanical cure of hot-drops administered in fevers, on the supposition that a hot disease requires a hot remedy ; and the ancient notion that the hair of a mad dog will cure the disease caused by his bite. These analogies have been indefinitely extended. The common plantains — herbaceous plants very frequent in fallow lands — have always been credited with the power of curing the bites of serpents. Who would suppose that there is not the least foundation for this belief, except that the seeds of the plantain are borne on the extremity of a long stem, so as to resemble the rattles of a rattlesnake ? The bloodroot is another of the signature plants. Its clusters of delicate white flowers appear in April in damp shady places. It avoids the deep woods and seeks the protection of clumps of trees near a brookside, where the soil is deep, and the situation defended by a natural wall or embankment. Its tuberous root is full of red sap resembling blood. Hence it was considered the natural remedy for all blood diseases. It is seldom used in modern legitimate practice, and then used only as an emetic. The liverwort (Hepatica triloba), a beautiful early flowering anemone, not uncommon in our woods, was used as a cure for liver complaints, from the resemblance of its leaf, which is lobed, to the folds of the liver, and of its mottled hues of green and purple to the outward colors of the liver. This plant is still in use by our modern simplers.

In the use of the five capillary herbs we trace the influence of the doctrine of signatures. All these herbs were ferns : the hartstongue, black, white, and golden maidenhair, and spleenwort. These plants, when they first appear above the ground,are covered with hairy down. This appearance caused them to be credited with efficacy in improving the growth of the hair, hence named capillary herbs. There are three distinct species of maidenhair in this catalogue, the black, white, and golden, representing the colors of the human hair in childhood, manhood, and old age. The stems of these beautiful ferns are also nearly as slender as hairs ; another signification of their proper medical use, according to this religious doctrine of the Middle Ages.

The fern called Lunaria, or moonwort, was held in great estimation, from a peculiar cresent shape of the pinnce of its fronds, as a cure for lunacy and all diseases of a periodical character, especially for intermittent fevers. This crescent shape won it some astrological repute ; and in order to preserve its virtues, it was to be gathered with a sacred observance of days. The moonwort was collected at the time of the full moon, and by the light of it, or its powers would be of no avail. Astrology was intimately blended with the practice of medicine in the Middle Ages, no less than theology, and many an herb was supposed to derive its healing powers from some tutelary planet. The most of the herbs in use by the ancient simplers were mere cordials. There were others of an entirely inert character that became famous from certain marvellous powers attributed to them by astrology. One of the most remarkable of these was the blue vervain, a conspicuous plant in fallow grounds and by-ways, flowering in August. So great was the reputation of this plant as a cure, that it bore the name of “simpler’s joy,” though now excluded as worthless from all standard pharmacopoeias. The vervain was tied with a yard of satin ribbon around the neck, where it was to remain until the patient was cured. It was to be gathered at the rising of the dog-star, when neither the sun nor the moon shone, and with the left hand only. When thus collected it would vanquish fevers and other distempers, was an antidote to the bite of serpents, and a charm to conciliate friends after estrangement.

The healing virtues of many other herbs were ascribed to the planet under whose ascendency they were to be collected, and not to any intrinsic properties belonging to them. It was this belief in planetary influences that gave rise to the custom, among physicians, of prefixing to their recipes a symbol of the planet under whose light the ingredients were to be collected. A mistake in attending to the planetary hour would render these substances entirely inert. This fact may account for the vast number of inert remedies which have been popular in all ages. There was hardly a plant in medicinal use that was not believed to be under the auspices of some planet, and which must be gathered in strict accordance with the prescriptions of medical astrology.

While astrology brought a great number of plants into medical use, there were others which were introduced into practice by witchcraft, The enchanter’s nightshade was famous for its magical virtues, and was named circæa, from Circe, a goddess who used it in her incantations. This plant inhabits our woods, bearing its pale reddish flowers in terminal racemes. It probably gained its first reputation in magic from its habitats in Great Britain among ruinous vaults in old cemeteries, and was called nightshade from its preference of shaded places to the open fields.

In medical history nothing is more remarkable than the pertinacity with which mankind, through hundreds of ages, will cling to a supposed remedy, after it has been repeatedly tried and condemned as worthless by physicians. Men hug their medical notions in as close an embrace as the doctrines of their religious faith, and exercise their reason in regard to the one no more than in regard to the other. Indeed, the ancient union of prophet and physician in one profession caused medicine and religion to be intimately associated in the minds of the people. Hence the sanctity of an herb, caused by its consecration in certain religious ceremonies, was often considered better proof of its efficacy in the cure of diseases than any practical experience of its virtues. The remedial reputation of precious stones had a religious origin. They were supposed, on account of their purity and splendor, to be the residence of good spirits, and consequently useful as amulets to expel disease. These follies of human reason have not been wholly confined to the ignorant. The celebrated John Wesley, being worn down by excessive apostolic labors, visits the country, and after a few months’ rustication is greatly relieved. He records this fact in his journal as the triumph of “ sulphur and supplication ” over his infirmities, and attributes his cure to daily prayers and a plaster of egg and brimstone, rather than to Dr. Fothergill’s prescription of “country air, rest, milk diet, and horse exercise.”

I am a believer in medicines and in medical science ; and though quackery is a fated appendage of the healing art, as swindling and counterfeiting are the inevitable accompaniments of trade, and though it continues to cause great destruction of life, the loss of life would be still greater if medicines were entirely unknown and unemployed. But, as if intended as a safeguard to the dangerous arts of quacks, Providence has benevolently supplied the fields with thousands of innocuous herbs, and mercifully endowed mankind with faith in their remedial power, that they may amuse themselves, when sick, with harmless decoctions containing the semblance of physic in the guise of a cordial beverage. Many an honest person who was too ignorant to believe in medicine as a science —considering it but a supernatural gift bestowed exclusively upon the uneducated has been saved from the malpractice of some charlatan by his faith in whiteweed and marigold, or in some equally harmless herb gathered at the rising of Sirius or under the waning light of the moon.

But there was no charlatanry among these charitable dames who brought balm to the sick, and dispensed their healing gifts without price. Some jealousy would occasionally arise between them and the learned faculty, from their interference in each other’s jurisdiction ; but they were seldom placed in direct antagonism. The balm, the mint, and the sage, brought to the patient by the considerate nurse, were often favorable accompaniments to the medicines presented by the physician. The simplers made the study of plants more of a utilitarian exercise than our present students, who admire flowers as beautiful objects, and study them as connected with taste and poetry. The modern student learns their technical characters, and examines their different parts as aids to the understanding of science. He pays but little regard to their medical virtues, which, in most cases, are but a part of the romance of their history. The experiments made and repeated, for the purpose of ascertaining the virtues of plants, thousands of times during several centuries, have enlightened the physician concerning their qualities, which are now very well understood. The simplers, however, supposed almost every plant to possess some quality designed for the sanitary welfare of the human race. Some old legend was associated with one, and some holy tradition with another, each pointing to the medical and magical virtues attributed to the plant and to certain benefits to be derived from it.

The herbalists among the early emigrants of Great Britain must have been greatly bewildered, when they went out into our American forest to seek the wild plants of their own native isle, and occasional unhappy accidents arose from false identification. When they discovered a plant that resembled any well-known English herb, they speedily declared the identity of the two, founding their judgment chiefly on the sensible qualities of the plants. It was by experiments of this class of botanists that the virtues of many of our indigenous herbs were determined. Not a few of our plants, however, owe their medical reputation to Indian traditions.

Among the recollections of my early life is that of the annual appearance of the herb-women, — vestiges of the ancient class of simplers, — who earned a livelihood, in part, by gathering and carrying to market herbs, roots, and flowers, to be used chiefly in the preparation of “ diet-drink,” a kind of small beer, of which the bitter and aromatic herbs were the principal ingredients. In these packages were strips of whitepine bark, which in its dried state gives out the flavor of nutmegs, — slightly bitter and fragrant. The pitch-pine was also plundered of its recent shoots, before they were hardened into wood, and tied up with sweet-fern, the spicy leaves of the bayberry, and the root of sassafras. The umbelled pyrola, or rheumatism-weed, a plant that bears several whorls of bright evergreen leaves, surmounted with an umbel of beautiful nodding flowers of purple and white, also the yarrow and the roots of the yellow dock, were favorite ingredients, combined with the aromatic leaves of the checkerberry and St. John’s wort. These careful dames, in the latter part of summer, employed themselves in collecting cordial herbs for winter’s needs.

The herbs formerly gathered by the simplers are now cultivated in gardens devoted to this special purpose, belonging chiefly to the Shakers. All the romance attending the occupation is destroyed by this change. The herbs are now pressed into cakes and sold in the apothecary’s shop.

I have never opened a package in which the slender, cordlike roots of the Aralia nudicaulis were wanting. The Boots of the aralia closely resemble those of the true sarsaparilla, not only in their cordlike shape, but in their entire want of any medical virtue. It is remarkable that this entirely inert and tasteless root should be the only ingredient that is never omitted, and proves that any plant in use among popular remedies maintains its repute in proportion as it is destitute of medical properties of any kind. The same habits prevail among the semicivilized nations. The ginseng, for example, which is as inert as so much white paper, is regarded in China as a medicine that will cure all diseases. Tons of the roots of this plant are annually imported into that country. The ginseng is the popular panacea among the Celestials, and is held by them in the same estimation as sarsaparilla by the Americans. People will sometimes take efficacious remedies, when prescribed by their physicians ; but no substance is mentioned in history which has acquired and maintained general popularity for any number of years, if it possessed any medical virtue at all. All curative drugs are unsafe, and if combined in a popular nostrum, soon excite mistrust, on account of accidents that happen from its maladministration. Many a patient, however, has been cured by mercury disguised by his physician in a preparation of sarsaparilla, without suspecting the cause of his cure.

A love of the marvellous also increases the popular faith in inert remedies. This innate propensity of the human mind formerly obtained gratification in mythological and magical superstitions. At present it finds more delight in mere abstractions that take no definite shape. In the early ages the supposed marvellous effects of nihility were attributed to some planet, deity, or saint. Now they are equally credited, but referred abstractly to some hidden and mysterious power of nature. All the law’s of nature are inexplicable ; but nothing satisfies the general craving for the wonderful, unless it be impossible. It is not considered marvellous that a few grains of a poisonous substance should cause death, or that a smaller quantity of it should cure disease ; but if it should be affirmed that an infinitesimal quantity of the juice of a plant, whose juices can be swallowed by the pint without any effects upon the system, will cure disease, the assertion gratifies the popular appetite for the marvellous, and is believed.

It must be confessed that these old superstitions have spread the charm of romance over a great part of the vegetable kingdom. From these poetic illusions originated the ancient floral games and the use of plants in the ceremonies of religion, which is the great fountain of pure romance. The supernatural dangers that seemed to attend botanizing excursions of old enveloped all the wood in the charm of mystery. The mandrake was a plant whose destruction would be a forewarning of death to the person who should injure it. But as the mandrake was believed to possess some excellent properties for purifying the blood, which were indicated by its red sap, it was very desirable to be obtained as a medicine. An expedient was therefore adopted by the people to obtain possession of the plant, without implicating themselves. Its roots were fastened by a cord to some animal, usually a dog, who was compelled by whipping to pull them up from the earth. The dog was afterwards supposed to die, as a punishment for his involuntary act.

In these days we admire the peony as a splendid flower, and cultivate it in our gardens for its beauty. But the ancients imputed supernatural virtues to its roots; and as no medical property could be discovered in them, they were naturally supposed to be intended for a charm. Dr. Darwin writes, that even in his time bits of the dried roots of the peony were rubbed smooth and tied round the necks of children, to hasten the growth of their teeth. They were sold at the shops under the name of “anodyne necklaces.” An ancient physician highly commends this necklace of the peony root for the cure of epilepsy.

In the days of the Pythian oracles, when the priestess who delivered them was made drunk with an infusion of laurel - leaves before she prophesied, the sacred regard for the laurel in the popular mind must have equalled the reverence of the modern devotee for the shrine of the Virgin. The use of this decoction in the temple of Apollo, who was the god of music, poetry, and the arts, probably gave the laurel-tree its reputation as a crown for men of genius, and still later as a general crown of honor. The laurel, which is a dangerous narcotic, was never much employed as a medical remedy; and when it ceased to be used in the temples for purposes of divination, it was adopted as an evergreen for the brows of poets and heroes. But the age of romance has departed with the age of mythology, and the reverence that now attaches to these ancient superstitions is but the lingering twilight of a beauty that has passed away forever.

Wilson Flagg.