Читать книгу The Old English Herbals - Eleanour Sinclair Rohde - Страница 6

“I have wreathed round the wounds

The best of healing wreaths

That the baneful sores may

Neither burn nor burst,

Nor find their way further,

Nor turn foul and fallow.

Nor thump and throle on,

Nor be wicked wounds,

Nor dig deeply down;

But he himself may hold

In a way to health.

Let it ache thee no more

Than ear in Earth acheth.

“Sing also this many times, ‘May earth bear on thee with all her might and main.’ ”—Leech Book of Bald, III. 63.

This was for one “in the water elf disease,” and we read that a person so afflicted would have livid nails and tearful eyes, and would look downwards. Amongst the herbs to be administered when the charm was sung over him were a yew-berry, lupin, helenium, marsh mallow, dock elder, wormwood and strawberry leaves.

Goblins and nightmare were regarded as at least akin to elves, and we find the same herbs were to be used against them, betony being of peculiar efficacy against “monstrous nocturnal visions and against frightful visions and dreams.”[14] The malicious elves did not confine their attacks to human beings; references to elf-shot cattle are numerous. I quote the following from the chapter “against elf disease.”

“For that ilk [i.e. for one who is elf-shot].

“Go on Thursday evening when the sun is set where thou knowest that helenium stands, then sing the Benedicite and Pater Noster and a litany and stick thy knife into the wort, make it stick fast and go away; go again when day and night just divide; at the same period go first to church and cross thyself and commend thyself to God; then go in silence and, though anything soever of an awful sort or man meet thee, say not thou to him any word ere thou come to the wort which on the evening before thou markedst; then sing the Benedicite and the Pater Noster and a litany, delve up the wort, let the knife stick in it; go again as quickly as thou art able to church and let it lie under the altar with the knife; let it lie till the sun be up, wash it afterwards, and make into a drink with bishopwort and lichen off a crucifix; boil in milk thrice, thrice pour holy water upon it and sing over it the Pater Noster, the Credo and the Gloria in Excelsis Deo, and sing upon it a litany and score with a sword round about it on three sides a cross, and then after that let the man drink the wort; Soon it will be well with him.”—Leech Book, III. 62.

The instructions for a horse or cattle that are elf-shot runs thus:—

“If a horse or other neat be elf-shot take sorrel-seed or Scotch wax, let a man sing twelve Masses over it and put holy water on the horse or on whatsoever neat it be; have the worts always with thee. For the same take the eye of a broken needle, give the horse a prick with it, no harm shall come.”—Leech Book of Bald, I. 88.

Another prescription for an elf-shot horse runs thus:—

“If a horse be elf-shot, then take the knife of which the haft is the horn of a fallow ox and on which are three brass nails, then write upon the horse’s forehead Christ’s mark and on each of the limbs which thou mayst feel at: then take the left ear, prick a hole in it in silence, this thou shalt do; then strike the horse on the back, then will it be whole.—And write upon the handle of the knife these words—

“Benedicite omnia opera Domini dominum.

“Be the elf what it may, this is mighty for him to amend.”—Leech Book of Bald, I. 65.[15]

Closely allied to the doctrine of the elf-shot is that of “flying venom.” It is, of course, possible to regard the phrase as the graphic Anglo-Saxon way of describing infectious diseases; but the various synonymous phrases, “the on-flying things,” “the loathed things that rove through the land,” suggest something of more malignant activity. As a recent leading article in The Times shows, we are as a matter of fact not much wiser than our Saxon ancestors as to the origin of an epidemic such as influenza.[16] Indeed, to talk of “catching” a cold or any infectious disease would have struck an Anglo-Saxon as ludicrous, mankind being rather the victims of “flying venom.” In the alliterative lay in the Lacnunga, part of which is given below, the wind is described as blowing these venoms, which produced disease in the bodies on which they lighted, their evil effects being subsequently blown away by the magician’s song and the efficacy of salt and water and herbs. This is generally supposed to be in its origin a heathen lay of great antiquity preserved down to Christian times, when allusions to the new religion were inserted. It is written in the Wessex dialect and is believed to be of the tenth century, but it is undoubtedly a reminiscence of some far older lay. The lay or charm is in praise of nine sacred herbs (one a tree)—mugwort, waybroad (plantain), stime (watercress), atterlothe (?), maythen (camomile), wergulu (nettle), crab apple, chervil and fennel.

“These nine attack

against nine venoms.

A worm came creeping,

he tore asunder a man.

Then took Woden

nine magic twigs,

[&] then smote the serpent

that he in nine [bits] dispersed.

Now these nine herbs have power

against nine magic outcasts

against nine venoms

& against nine flying things

[& have might] against the loathed things

that over land rove.

Against the red venoms

against the runlan [?] venom

against the white venom

against the blue [?] venom

against the yellow venom

against the green venom

against the dusky venom

against the brown venom

against the purple venom.

Against worm blast against water blast against thorn blast against thistle blast Against ice blast Against venom blast … . … if any venom come flying from east or any come from north [or any from south] or any from west over mankind I alone know a running river and the nine serpents behold [it] All weeds must now to herbs give way, Seas dissolve [and] all salt water when I this venom from thee blow.”[17]

In the chapter in the Leech Book of Bald[18] containing the prescriptions sent by the Patriarch of Jerusalem to King Alfred, we find among the virtues of the “white stone” that it is “powerful against flying venom and against all uncouth things,” and in another passage[19] that these venoms are particularly dangerous “fifteen nights ere Lammas and after it for five and thirty nights: leeches who were wisest have taught that in that month no man should anywhere weaken his body except there were a necessity for it.” In the most ancient source of Anglo-Saxon medicine—the Lacnunga—we find the following “salve” for flying venom:—

“A salve for flying venom. Take a handful of hammer wort and a handful of maythe (camomile) and a handful of waybroad (plantain) and roots of water dock, seek those which will float, and one eggshell full of clean honey, then take clean butter, let him who will help to work up the salve melt it thrice: let one sing a mass over the worts, before they are put together and the salve is wrought up.”[20]

But it is in the doctrine of the worm as the ultimate source of disease that we are carried back to the most ancient of sagas. The dragon and the worm, the supreme enemy of man, which play so dominating a part in Saxon literature, are here set down as the source of all ill. In the alliterative lay in the Lacnunga the opening lines describe the war between Woden and the Serpent. Disease arose from the nine fragments into which he smote the serpent, and these diseases, blown by the wind, are counteracted by the nine magic twigs and salt water and herbs with which the disease is again blown away from the victim by the power of the magician’s song. This is the atmosphere of the great earth-worm Fafnir in the Volsunga Saga and the dragon in all folk tales, the great beast with whom the heroes of all nations have contended. Further, it is noteworthy that not only in Anglo-Saxon medicine, but for many centuries afterwards, even minor ailments were ascribed to the presence of a worm—notably toothache. In the Leech Book we find toothache ascribed to a worm in the tooth (see Leech Book, II. 121). It is impossible in a book of this size to deal with the comparative folk lore of this subject, but in passing it is interesting to recall an incantation for toothache from the Babylonian cuneiform texts[21] in which we find perhaps the oldest example of this belief.

“The Marshes created the Worm,

Came the Worm and wept before Shamash,

What wilt thou give me for my food?

What wilt thou give me to devour?

… . …

Let me drink among the teeth And set me on the gums, That I may devour the blood of the teeth And of the gums destroy their strength. Then shall I hold the bolt of the door. … . … So must thou say this, O Worm, May Ea smite thee with the might of his fist.”

Closely interwoven with these elements of Indo-Germanic origin we find the ancient Eastern doctrine which ascribes disease to demoniac possession. The exorcisms were originally heathen charms, and even in the Leech Book there are many interesting survivals of these, although Christian rites have to a large extent been substituted for them. Both mandrake and periwinkle were supposed to be endowed with mysterious powers against demoniacal possession. At the end of the description of the mandrake in the Herbarium of Apuleius there is this prescription:—

“For witlessness, that is devil sickness or demoniacal possession, take from the body of this same wort mandrake by the weight of three pennies, administer to drink in warm water as he may find most convenient—soon he will be healed.”—Herb. Ap., 32.

Of periwinkle we read:—

“This wort is of good advantage for many purposes, that is to say first against devil sickness and demoniacal possessions and against snakes and wild beasts and against poisons and for various wishes and for envy and for terror and that thou mayst have grace, and if thou hast the wort with thee thou shalt be prosperous and ever acceptable. This wort thou shalt pluck thus, saying, ‘I pray thee, vinca pervinca, thee that art to be had for thy many useful qualities, that thou come to me glad blossoming with thy mainfulness, that thou outfit me so that I be shielded and ever prosperous and undamaged by poisons and by water;’ when thou shalt pluck this wort thou shalt be clean of every uncleanness, and thou shalt pick it when the moon is nine nights old and eleven nights and thirteen nights and thirty nights and when it is one night old.”—Herb. Ap.

MANDRAKE FROM A SAXON HERBAL

(Sloane 1975, folio 49a)

In the treatment of disease we find that the material remedies, by which I mean remedies devoid of any mystic meaning, are with few exceptions entirely herbal. The herb drinks were made up with ale, milk or vinegar, many of the potions were made of herbs mixed with honey, and ointments were made of herbs worked up with butter. The most scientific prescription is that for a vapour bath,[22] and there are suggestions for what may become fashionable once more—herb baths. The majority of the prescriptions are for common ailments, and one cannot help being struck by the number there are for broken heads, bleeding noses and bites of mad dogs. However ignorant one may be of medicine, it is impossible to read these old prescriptions without realising that our ancestors were an uncommonly hardy race, for the majority of the remedies would kill any of us modern weaklings, even if in robust health when they were administered. At times one cannot help wondering whether in those days, as not infrequently happens now, the bulletin was issued that “the operation was quite successful, but the patient died of shock!” And, as further evidence of the old truth that there is nothing new under the sun, it is pleasant to find that doctors, even in Saxon days, prescribed “carriage exercise,” and moreover endeavoured to sweeten it by allowing the patient to “lap up honey” first. This prescription runs thus:—

“Against want of appetite. Let them, after the night’s fast, lap up honey, and let them seek for themselves fatigue in riding on horseback or in a wain or such conveyance as they may endure.”—Leech Book, II. 7.

In the later herbals, “beauty” recipes are, as is well known, a conspicuous feature, but they find a place also in these old manuscripts. In the third book (the oldest part) of the Leech Book there is a prescription for sunburn which runs thus:—

“For sunburn boil in butter tender ivy twigs, smear therewith.”—Leech Book, III. 29.

And in Leech Book II. we find this prescription:—

“That all the body may be of a clean and glad and bright hue, take oil and dregs of old wine equally much, put them into a mortar, mingle well together and smear the body with this in the sun.”—Leech Book, II. 65.

Prescriptions for hair falling off are fairly numerous, and there are even two—somewhat drastic—prescriptions for hair which is too thick. Sowbread and watercress were both used to make hair grow, and in Leech Book I. there is this prescription:—

“If a man’s hair fall off, work him a salve. Take the mickle wolf’s bane and viper’s bugloss and the netherward part of burdock, work the salve out of that wort and out of all these and out of that butter of which no water hath come. If hair fall off, boil the polypody fern and foment the head with that so warm. In case that a man be bald, Plinius the mickle leech saith this leechdom: ‘Take dead bees, burn them to ashes, add oil upon that, seethe very long over gledes, then strain, wring out and take leaves of willow, pound them, pour the juice into the oil; boil again for a while on gledes, strain them, smear therewith after the bath.’ ”—Leech Book, I. 87.

The two prescriptions for hair which is too thick are in the same chapter:—

“In order that the hair may not wax, take emmets’ eggs, rub them up, smudge on the place, never will any hair come up there.” Again: “if hair be too thick, take a swallow, burn it to ashes under a tile and have the ashes shed on.”

There are more provisions against diseases of the eye than against any other complaint, and it is probably because of the prevalence of these in olden days that we still have so many of the superstitions connected with springs of water. Both maythen (camomile) and wild lettuce were used for the eyes. In the following for mistiness of eyes there is a touch of pathos:—

“For mistiness of eyes, many men, lest their eyes should suffer the disease, look into cold water and then are able to see far. … The eyes of an old man are not sharp of sight, then shall he wake up his eyes with rubbings, with walkings, with ridings, either so that a man bear him or convey him in a wain. And they shall use little and careful meats and comb their heads and drink wormwood before they take food. Then shall a salve be wrought for unsharpsighted eyes; take pepper and beat it and a somewhat of salt and wine; that will be a good salve.”

One prescription is unique, for the “herb” which one is directed to use is not to be found in any other herbal in existence. This is “rind from Paradise.” There is a grim humour about the scribe’s comment, and one cannot help wondering what was the origin of the prescription:—

“Some teach us against bite of adder, to speak one word ‘faul.’ It may not hurt him. Against bite of snake if the man procures and eateth rind which cometh out of Paradise, no venom will hurt him. Then said he that wrote this book that the rind was hard gotten.”

These manuscripts are so full of word pictures of the treatment of disease that one feels if one were transported back to those days it would in most cases be possible to tell at a glance the “cures” various people were undergoing. Let us visit a Saxon hamlet and go and see the sick folk in the cottages. On our way we meet a man with a fawn’s skin decorated with little bunches of herbs dangling from his shoulders, and we know that he is a sufferer from nightmare.[23] Another has a wreath of clove-wort tied with a red thread round his neck. He is a lunatic, but, as the moon is on the wane, his family hope that the wearing of these herbs will prove beneficial. We enter a dark one-roomed hut, the dwelling of one of the swineherds, but he is not at his work; for it seemed to him that his head turned about and that he was faring with turned brains. He had consulted the leech and, suggestion cures being then rather more common than now, the leech had advised him to sit calmly by his fireside with a linen cloth wrung out in spring water on his head and to wait till it was dry. He does so, and, to quote the words with which nearly all Saxon prescriptions end, we feel “it will soon be well with him.” Let us wend our way to the cobbler, a sullen, taciturn man who finds his lively young wife’s chatter unendurable. We find him looking more gloomy than usual, for he has eaten nothing all day and now sits moodily consuming a raw radish. But there is purpose in this. Does not the ancient leechdom say that, if a radish be eaten raw after fasting all day, no woman’s chatter the next day can annoy? In another cottage we find that a patient suffering from elf-shot is to be smoked with the fumes of herbs. A huge quern stone which has been in the fire on the hearth all day is dragged out, the prepared herbs—wallwort and mugwort—are scattered upon it and also underneath, then cold water is poured on and the patient is reeked with the steam “as hot as he can endure it.”[24] Smoking sick folk, especially for demoniac possession, is a world-wide practice and of very ancient origin. There is no space here to attempt to touch on the comparative folk lore of this subject. Moreover, fumigating the sick with herbs is closely akin to the burning of incense. Even in ancient Babylonian days fumigating with herbs was practised.[25] It was very common all through the Middle Ages in most parts of Europe, and that it has not even yet died out is shown by the extract from The Times given below.[26] I have purposely put in juxtaposition the translation of the ancient Babylonian tablet and the extract from The Times.

It is noteworthy that not only human beings, but cattle and swine were smoked with the fumes of herbs. In the Lacnunga, for sick cattle we find—“Take the wort, put it upon gledes and fennel and hassuck and ‘cotton’ and incense. Burn all together on the side on which the wind is. Make it reek upon the cattle. Make five crosses of hassuck grass, set them on four sides of the cattle and one in the middle. Sing about the cattle the Benedicite and some litanies and the Pater Noster. Sprinkle holy water upon them, burn about them incense and cotton and let someone set a value on the cattle, let the owner give the tenth penny in the Church for God, after that leave them to amend; do this thrice.”—Lacnunga, 79.

“To preserve swine from sudden death sing over them four masses, drive the swine to the fold, hang the worts upon the four sides and upon the door, also burn them, adding incense and make the reek stream over the swine.”—Lacnunga, 82.

Herbs used as amulets have always played a conspicuous part in folk medicine, and our Saxon ancestors used them, as all ancient races have used them, not merely to cure definite diseases but also as protection against the unseen powers of evil,[27] to preserve the eyesight, to cure lunacy, against weariness when going on a journey, against being barked at by dogs, for safety from robbers, and in one prescription even to restore a woman stricken with speechlessness. The use of herbs as amulets to cure diseases has almost died out in this country, but the use of them as charms to ensure good luck survives to this day—notably in the case of white heather and four-leaved clover.

There is occasionally the instruction to bind on the herb with red wool. For instance, a prescription against headache in the third book of the Leech Book enjoins binding waybroad, which has been dug up without iron before sunrise, round the head “with a red fillet.” Binding on with red wool is a very ancient and widespread custom.[28] Red was the colour sacred to Thor and it was also the colour abhorred not only by witches in particular but by all the powers of darkness and evil. An ancient Assyrian eye charm prescribes binding “pure strands of red wool which have been brought by the pure hand of … on the right hand,” and down to quite recent times even in these islands tying on with red wool was a common custom.

Besides their use as amulets, we also find instructions for hanging herbs up over doors, etc., for the benefit not only of human beings but of cattle also. Of mugwort we read in the Herbarium of Apuleius, “And if a root of this wort be hung over the door of any house then may not any man damage the house.”

“Of Croton oil plant. For hail and rough weather to turn them away. If thou hast in thy possession this wort which is named ‘ricinus’ and which is not a native of England, if thou hangest some seed of it in thine house or have it or its seed in any place whatsoever, it turneth away the tempestuousness of hail, and if thou hangest its seed on a ship, to that degree wonderful it is, that it smootheth every tempest. This wort thou shalt take saying thus, ‘Wort ricinus I pray that thou be at my songs and that thou turn away hails and lightning bolts and all tempests through the name of Almighty God who hight thee to be produced’; and thou shalt be clean when thou pluckest this herb.”—Herb. Ap., 176.

“Against temptation of the fiend, a wort hight red niolin, red stalk, it waxeth by running water; if thou hast it on thee and under thy head and bolster and over thy house door the devil may not scathe thee within nor without.”—Leech Book, III. 58.

“To preserve swine from sudden death take the worts lupin, bishopwort, hassuck grass, tufty thorn, vipers bugloss, drive the swine to the fold, hang the worts upon the four sides and upon the door.”—Lacnunga, 82.

The herbs in commonest use as amulets were betony, vervain, peony, yarrow, mugwort and waybroad (plantain). With the exception of vervain, no herb was more highly prized than betony. The treatise on it in the Herbarium of Apuleius is supposed to be an abridged copy of a treatise on the virtues of this plant written by Antonius Musa, physician to the Emperor Augustus. No fewer than twenty-nine uses of it are given, and in the Saxon translation this herb is described as being “good whether for a man’s soul or his body.” Vervain was one of the herbs held most sacred by the Druids and, as the herbals of Gerard and Parkinson testify, it was in high repute even as late as the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. It has never been satisfactorily identified, though many authorities incline to the belief that it was verbena. In Druidical times libations of honey had to be offered to the earth from which it was dug, mystic ceremonies attended the digging of it and the plant was lifted out with the left hand. This uprooting had always to be performed at the rising of the dog star and when neither the sun nor the moon was shining. Why the humble waybroad should occupy so prominent a place in Saxon herb lore it is difficult to understand. It is one of the nine sacred herbs in the alliterative lay in the Lacnunga, and the epithets “mother of worts” and “open from eastwards” are applied to it. The latter curious epithet is also applied to it in Lacnunga 46—“which spreadeth open towards the East.” Waybroad has certainly wonderfully curative powers, especially for bee-stings, but otherwise it has long since fallen from its high estate. Peony throughout the Middle Ages was held in high repute for its protective powers, and even during the closing years of the last century country folk hung beads made of its roots round children’s necks.[29] Yarrow is one of the aboriginal English plants, and from time immemorial it has been used in incantations and by witches. Country folk still regard it as one of our most valuable herbs, especially for rheumatism. Mugwort, which was held in repute throughout the Middle Ages for its efficacy against unseen powers of evil, is one of the nine sacred herbs in the alliterative lay in the Lacnunga, where it is described thus:—

“Eldest of worts

Thou hast might for three

And against thirty

For venom availest

For flying vile things,

Mighty against loathed ones

That through the land rove.”

Harleian MS. 585.

(1) ARTEMISIA AND (2) BLACKBERRY, FROM A SAXON HERBAL

(Sloane 1975, folio 37a)

With the notable exception of vervain, it is curious how little prominence is given in Saxon plant lore to the herbs which were held most sacred by the Druids, and yet it is scarcely credible that some of their wonderful lore should not have been assimilated. But in these manuscripts little or no importance attaches to mistletoe, holly, birch or ivy. There is no mention of mistletoe as a sacred herb.[30] We find some mention of selago, generally identified with lycopodium selago, of which Pliny tells us vaguely that it was “like savin.” The gathering of it had to be accompanied in Druid days with mystic ceremonies. The Druid had his feet bare and was clad in white, and the plant could not be cut with iron, nor touched with the naked hand. So great were its powers that it was called “the gift of God.” Nor is there any mention in Saxon plant lore of the use of sorbus aucuparia, which the Druids planted near their monolithic circles as protection against unseen powers of darkness. There is, however, one prescription which may date back to the Roman occupation of Britain. It runs thus: “Take nettles, and seethe them in oil, smear and rub all thy body therewith; the cold will depart away.”[31] It has always been believed that one of the varieties of nettle (Urtica pilulifera) was introduced into England by the Roman soldiers, who brought the seed of it with them. According to the tradition, they were told that the cold in England was unendurable; so they brought these seeds in order to have a plentiful supply of nettles wherewith to rub their bodies and thereby keep themselves warm. Possibly this prescription dates back to that time.

From what hoary antiquity the charms and incantations which we find in these manuscripts have come down to us we cannot say. Their atmosphere is that of palæolithic cave-drawings, for they are redolent of the craft of sorcerers and they suggest those strange cave markings which no one can decipher. Who can say what lost languages are embedded in these unintelligible words and single letters, or what is their meaning? To what ancient ceremonies do they pertain, and who were the initiated who alone understood them? At present it is all mysterious, though perhaps one day we shall discover both their sources and their meaning. They show no definite traces of the Scandinavian rune-lays concerning herbs, though one of the charms is in runic characters. It is noteworthy that in the third book, which is evidently much older than the first two parts of the Leech Book, the proportion of heathen charms is exceptionally large. In one prescription we find the names of two heathen idols, Tiecon and Leleloth, combined with a later Christian interpolation of the names of the four gospellers. The charm is in runic characters and is to be followed by a prayer. Many of the mystic sentences are wholly incomprehensible, in others we find heathen names such as Lilumenne, in others a string of words which may be a corrupt form of some very ancient language. Thus a lay to be sung in case a man or beast drinks an insect runs thus:—“Gonomil, orgomil, marbumil, marbsai, tofeth,” etc.[32]

If some of the charms have a malignant sound, others were probably as soothing in those days as those gems are still which have survived in our inimitable nursery rhymes.

For instance, the following has for us no meaning, but even in the translation it has something of the curious effect of the words in the original. A woman who cannot rear her child is instructed to say—“Everywhere I carried for me the famous kindred doughty one with this famous meat doughty one, so I will have it for me and go home.”

In the Lacnunga there is a counting-out charm which is a mixture of an ancient heathen charm combined with a Christian rite at the end.

“Nine were Noddes sisters, then the nine came to be eight, and the eight seven, and the seven six, and the six five, and the five four, and the four three, and the three two, and the two one, and the one none. This may be medicine for thee from scrofula and from worm and from every mischief. Sing also the Benedicite nine times.”—Lacnunga, 95.[33]

One of the most remarkable narrative charms is that for warts copied below from the Lacnunga. It is to be sung first into the left ear, then into the right ear, then above the man’s poll, then “let one who is a maiden go to him and hang it upon his neck, do so for three days, it will soon be well with him.”

“Here came entering

A spider wight.

He had his hands upon his hams.

He quoth that thou his hackney wert.

Lay thee against his neck.

They began to sail off the land.

As soon as they off the land came, then began they to cool.

Then came in a wild beast’s sister.

Then she ended

And oaths she swore that never could this harm the sick, nor him who could get at this charm, nor him who had skill to sing this charm. Amen. Fiat.”—Lacnunga, 56.

Of the world-wide custom of charming disease from the patient and transferring it to some inanimate object we find numerous examples. This custom is not only of very ancient origin, but persisted until recent times even in this country. As commonly practised in out-of-the-way parts of Great Britain it was believed that the disease transferred to an inanimate object would be contracted by the next person who picked it up, but in the Saxon herbals we find an apparently older custom of transferring the disease to “running water” (suggestive of the Israelitish scapegoat), and also that of throwing the blood from the wound across the wagon way. These charms for transferring disease seem originally to have been associated with a considerable amount of ceremonial. For instance, in those to cure the bite of a hunting spider we find that a certain number of scarifications are to be struck (and in both cases an odd number—three and five); in the case of the five scarifications, “one on the bite and four round about it,” the blood is to be caught in “a green spoon of hazel-wood,” and the blood is to be thrown “in silence” over a wagon way. In the Lacnunga there are traces of the actual ceremonial of transferring the disease, and the Christian prayer has obviously been substituted for an older heathen one. The charm is in unintelligible words and is followed by the instruction, “Sing this nine times and the Pater Noster nine times over a barley loaf and give it to the horse to eat.” In a “salve against the elfin race” it is noticeable that the herbs, after elaborate preparation, are not administered to the patient at all, but are thrown into running water.

“A salve against the elfin race and nocturnal goblin visitors: take wormwood, lupin. … Put these worts into a vessel, set them under the altar, sing over them nine masses, boil them in butter and sheep’s grease, add much holy salt, strain through a cloth, throw the worts into running water.”—Leech Book, III. 61.

One charm in the Lacnunga which is perhaps not too long to quote speaks of some long-lost tale. It appears to be a fragment of a popular lay, and one wonders how many countless generations of our ancestors sang it, and what it commemorates:—

“Loud were they loud, as over the land they rode,

Fierce of heart were they, as over the hill they rode.

Shield thee now thyself; from this spite thou mayst escape thee!

Out little spear if herein thou be!

Underneath the linden stood he, underneath the shining shield,

While the mighty women mustered up their strength;

And the spears they send screaming through the air!

Back again to them will I send another.

Arrow forth a-flying from the front against them;

Out little spear if herein thou be!

Sat the smith thereat, smoke a little seax out.

Out little spear if herein thou be!

Six the smiths that sat there— making slaughter-spears:

Out little spear, in be not spear! If herein there hide flake of iron hard, Of a witch the work, it shall melt away. Wert thou shot into the skin, or shot into the flesh, Wert thou shot into the blood, or shot into the bone, Wert thou shot into the limb— never more thy life be teased! If it were the shot of Esa, or it were of elves the shot Or it were of hags the shot; help I bring to thee. This to boot for Esa-shot, this to boot for elfin-shot. This to boot for shot of hags! Help I bring to thee. Flee witch to the wild hill top … … But thou—be thou hale, and help thee the Lord.”

Who were these six smiths and who were the witches? One thinks of that mighty Smith Weyland in the palace of Nidad king of the Niars, of the queen’s fear of his flashing eyes and the maiming of him by her cruel orders, and of the cups he made from the skulls of her sons and gems from their eyes. We think of these as old tales, but instinct tells us that they are horribly real. We may not know how that semi-divine smith made himself wings, but that he flew over the palace and never returned we do not doubt for an instant. To the fairy stories which embody such myths children of unnumbered generations have listened, and they demand them over and over again because they, too, are sure that they are real.

Nor is the mystery of numbers lacking in these herbal prescriptions, particularly the numbers three and nine. In the alliterative lay of the nine healing herbs this is very conspicuous. Woden, we are told, smote the serpent with nine magic twigs, the serpent was broken into nine parts, from which the wind blew the nine flying venoms. There are numerous instances of the patient being directed to take nine of each of the ingredients or to take the herb potion itself for three or nine days. Or it is directed that an incantation is to be said or sung three or nine times, or that three or nine masses are to be sung over the herbs. This mystic use of three and nine is conspicuous in the following prescription:—

“Against dysentery, a bramble of which both ends are in the earth take the newer root, delve it up, cut up nine chips with the left hand and sing three times the Miserere mei Deus and nine times the Pater Noster, then take mugwort and everlasting, boil these three worts and the chips in milk till they get red, then let the man sip at night fasting a pound dish full … let him rest himself soft and wrap himself up warm; if more need be let him do so again, if thou still need do it a third time, thou wilt not need oftener.”—Leech Book, II. 65.

The leechdom for the use of dwarf elder against a snake-bite runs thus:—[34]

“For rent by snake take this wort and ere thou carve it off hold it in thine hand and say thrice nine times Omnes malas bestias canto, that is in our language Enchant and overcome all evil wild deer; then carve it off with a very sharp knife into three parts.”—Herb. Ap., 93.

Some of the most remarkable passages in the manuscripts are those concerning the ceremonies to be observed both in the picking and in the administering of herbs. What the mystery of plant life which has so deeply affected the minds of men in all ages and of all civilisations meant to our ancestors, we can but dimly apprehend as we study these ceremonies. They carry us back to that worship of earth and the forces of Nature which prevailed when Woden was yet unborn. That Woden was the chief god of the tribes on the mainland is indisputable, but even in the hierarchy of ancestors reverenced as semi-divine the Saxons themselves looked to Sceaf rather than to Woden, who himself was descended from Sceaf. There are few more haunting legends than that of our mystic forefather, the little boy asleep on a sheaf of corn who, in a richly adorned vessel which moved neither by sails nor oars, came to our people out of the great deep and was hailed by them as their king. Did not Alfred himself claim him as his primeval progenitor, the founder of our race? There is no tangible link between his descendant Woden and the worship of earth, but the sheaf of corn, the symbol of Sceaf, carries us straight back to Nature worship. Sceaf takes his fitting place as the semi-divine ancestor with the lesser divinities such as Hrede and Eostra, goddess of the radiant dawn. It is to this age that the ceremonies in the picking of the herbs transport us, to the mystery of the virtues of herbs, the fertility of earth, the never-ceasing conflict between the beneficent forces of sun and summer and the evil powers of the long, dark northern winters. Closely intertwined with Nature worship we find the later Christian rites and ceremonies. For the new teaching did not oust the old, and for many centuries the mind of the average man halted half-way between the two faiths. If he accepted Christ he did not cease to fear the great hierarchy of unseen powers of Nature, the worship of which was bred in his very bone. The ancient festivals of Yule and Eostra continued under another guise and polytheism still held its sway. The devil became one with the gloomy and terrible in Nature, with the malignant elves and dwarfs. Even with the warfare between the beneficent powers of sun and the fertility of Nature and the malignant powers of winter, the devil became associated. Nor did men cease to believe in the Wyrd, that dark, ultimate fate goddess who, though obscure, lies at the back of all Saxon belief. It was in vain that the Church preached against superstitions. Egbert, Archbishop of York, in his Penitential, strictly forbade the gathering of herbs with incantations and enjoined the use of Christian rites, but it is probable that even when these manuscripts were written, the majority at least of the common folk in these islands, though nominally Christian, had not deserted their ancient ways of thought. [35] When the Saxon peasant went to gather his healing herbs he may have used Christian prayers[36] and ceremonies, but he did not forget the goddess of the dawn. It is noteworthy how frequently we find the injunction that the herbs must be picked at sunrise or when day and night divide, how often stress is laid upon looking towards the east, and turning “as the sun goeth from east to south and west.” In many there is the instruction that the herb is to be gathered “without use of iron” or “with gold and with hart’s horn” (emblems of the sun’s rays). It is curious how little there is of moon lore. In some cases the herbs are to be gathered in silence, in others the man who gathers them is not to look behind him—a prohibition which occurs frequently in ancient superstitions. The ceremonies are all mysterious and suggestive, but behind them always lies the ancient ineradicable worship of Nature. To what dim past does that cry, “Erce, Erce, Erce, Mother of Earth” carry us?