bunnyjadwiga

And herein I begin to wrap up my notes from the presentation I made at Darkover:

The most reliable picture of the women-as-herbalist, and in fact of the healer-herbalist in general, in medieval history, is actually that of the lady of the house as healer, physica, concoctor of medicines and treater of injuries. Whether she be the mother, 'housekeeper,' or lady of the manor, women through the seventeenth century were expected to be nurse and Dr. Mom. From the great ladies nursing wounded knights in the romances, right through Gervase Markham's exhortation:

"...you shall understand that since the preservation and care of the family, touching their health and soundness of body, consisteth most inher diligence, it is meet that she have a physical kind of knowledge, how to administer many wholesome receipts or medicines for the good of their healths, as well as to prevent the first occasion of sickness as to take away the effects and evil of the same when it hath made a seizure on the body,"

though he does say that he does not intend to make his reader a practitioner, since knowledge of physic would be beyond her. We do have examples of that in fantasy, though the path is somewhat complex: consider the main character in Sharon Shinn's Summers at Castle Auburn.

But we are more likely to see the making of herbal remedies in fantasy as a side business for the fantasy healers. Sometimes that is perfectly in line with their roles as mythic characters -- see the Old Woman in the Swamp and the Young Sorcerer's Girl Student in Teresa Edgerton's Welsh/Arthurian Caelydonn series, or the education of Eilonwy in the Welsh-inspired Prydain Chronicles. The combination of great lady who through her holiness, some mystic power, or some other power, is shown in a lady of the manor in Edgerton's Grail and The Ring, and in history in the stories of St. Francesca Romana, a fifteenth-century woman who set herself to minister to the ill through touch, prayer, ointments and liquids.

On the other hand, I sometimes wonder where the counterpart to Cadfael is in our fantasy world. Anyone familiar with the writings of Hildegard of Bingen on plants and medicines realizes that there would have been women infirmarers and abbesses who were interested in both herbal medicine and physic, as Cadfael is. The fact that Cadfael's type-- the healing monk-- is better documented and more described in history and of course in mythology is no excuse. (Often, we are told that only the use of herbs by monks kept all knowledge from being swept away, which anti-Christian or anti-Catholic writers take to mean that the monasteries or the church drove all other herbal healing underground. There's no evidence of this, and contrary evidence in the fact that Anglo-Saxon, formerly pagan, texts such as the Leech book of bald were written down at the end of the first millenium, and that their writers struggled to reconcile their herbal and medical knowledge with that in the Latin books they had access to. Admittedly, there was a great deal of ancient medical knowledge that ended up in Arabic and/or Muslim hands and was brought back to Christian Europe during the Crusades, often with added information from Muslim practioners.

Another thing that seems to be missing in fantasy is the idea of woman gardeners or herbalists, who gathered and sold raw materials, which we can document to approximately 15th c. France, where the trade was followed by both men and women. Male gardeners, like male cooks, seem to have been the norm in noble houses, and the interest in creating one's own garden and having it laid out just so can be documented to both sexes. However, with the desire to have materials for medication and the still-room, the middle class and upper middle class women would have taken more interest in their gardens. Women were hired in gardens to do weeding, and surviving depictions of workers in the gardens show women doing difficult work. But they seem to have existed within the social structure, rather as proud and independent characters, and thus are not well-represented in fantasy so far. An unusual appearance is the green mages in Tamora Pierce's Circle of Magic series, where there are natural magic practitioners who work primarily with plants, and sometimes get pressed into service for healing, rather than the other way around.

The trope of the healer/witch/herbalist has been used, overused, abused, mythologized, and turned round and round to the point that it has migrated into and sometimes been relegated to Young Adult Literature and Romance Novels. But if we throw away the fantasy of the historical witch/healer/herbalist, we find that there are a diversity of types and ideas that inspire new thought and ideas.

If we demolish the feminist ideal of the herbalist-witch-healer, we can replace it with a larger more diverse idea of healers, based on the historical record.
Even if we restrict ourselves only to female practicioners, there may not have been many, but they were fairly diverse.
( Read more... )
This greater diversity of practitioners is reflected in children's books such as those by Karen Cushman (The Midwife's Apprentice and Matilda Bone).

So, we discuss the witch because the herbalist persona, in fantasy and in herbal historiography, is irrevocably tangled iwith that of the witch, and specifically the witch of the 'burning times'.

This association of woman healer with witch is most often traced back through Ehrenreich and English's booklet, Witches, Midwives, and Nurses: a history of women healers, 1973. This wasn't the first such discourse, but it's the one that gets cited continuously, and erroneously. In a discussion of the Malleus Maleficarum [Hammer of Witches] the 1486 witchfinder's manual by Sprenger and Kramer, they say, in quotes, "If a woman dare to cure without having studied, she is a witch and must die."

The trouble is, that sentence doesn't appear in the Malleus Maleficarum edition they cite. Closer examination shows that English and Ehrenreich are not specifically crediting that sentence to Sprenger and Kramer. It may be a quote that has lost its attribution, from another source; or it may simply be the author's framing of what they see as a continuing trend in the literature of the witchhunt. But the Malleus actually specifically exempts the use of herbs and other usual healing objects in healing, as not being witchcraft:

“Therefore we can answer their first argument in this way: that if natural objects are
used in a simple way to produce certain effects for which they are thought to have some
natural virtue, this is not unlawful. But if there are joined to this certain characters and
unknown signs and vain observations, which manifestly cannot have any natural efficacy,
then it is superstitious and unlawful. Wherefore S. Thomas, II, q. 96, art. 2, speaking of this matter, says that when any object is used for the purpose of causing some bodily effect, such as curing the sick, notice must be taken whether such objects appear to have any natural quality which could cause such an effect; and if so, then it is not unlawful, since it is lawful to apply natural causes to their effects.”

Also,

Again, there are some things in nature which have certain hidden powers, the reason for which man does not know; such, for example, is the lodestone, which attracts steel and many other such things, which S. Augustine mentions in the 20th book Of the City of God. And so women in order to bring about changes in the bodies of others sometimes make use of certain things, which exceed our knowledge, but this is without any aid from the devil. And because these remedies are mysterious we must not therefore ascribe them to the power of the devil as we should ascribe evil spells wrought by witches. (Part I, question 2)

Again
But natural bodies may find the benefit of certain secret but good influences.
Therefore artificial bodies may receive such influence. Hence it is plain that those who perform works of healing may well perform them by means of such good influences, and this has no connexion at all with any evil power.

To this we add the fact that most of those who were excecuted for witchcraft don't appear to have been either midwives or healers. Whether they were in fact practicioners of some pre-Christian or alternative religion, rebels against Christianity, innocent victims, or sufferers of some delusion is unclear, and may have varied from place to place. There is some suggestion that the witch-crazes may have been associated with outbreaks of ergotism (a deadly, hallucenogenic condition caused by consuming the ergot rust that forms on improperly cured and stored rye and other grains), but since these stories don't seem to be associated with stories of fingers, toes, or noses turning black and falling off, I'm inclined to doubt them, as this is one of the major side effects of ergotism.

(Sorry if y'all are bored. You may have figured out that I'm re-creating my notes here preparatory to writing it all up in a single doc. Zing me if something sounds wrong or more than usually overgeneralized.)

Another major force behind the emergence of the idealistic herbalist-healer in fantasy was the resurgence of interest in herbs, and herbal medicine in particular.

This also was somewhat related to the women's movement, as there was a strong backlash against "traditional," scientific-style medicine in the women's movement. That backlash was definitely justified; the problems with women's healthcare in that time period are amply documented in many studies and first person narratives from healthcare providers and patients of the 1960s.

In particular, male medical establishments' control over women's health was a major issue. (Though I'm not from that period, I can remember going on the Pill and my personal struggles with having to jump through the hoops of authority to control my body.) The question of herbal contraception (did/does it exist? work safely and reliably?) is one that continues to be disputed. John Riddle's Eve's Herbs argues that there were safe reliable contraceptives used 'under the radar' before the modern period; I personally don't buy his arguments, but some people do. We do know that people used contraception, of some type, off and on from the Roman, through the medieval and modern periods. Catherine of Siena, the 30th 23rd child of her parents, railed against those who practiced it (a clear case of self-interest there!) In fantasy and science fiction, of course, there's nearly always a safe reliable contraceptive of some sort.

During the 1970s and their climate of distrust of modern medicine, interest in herbs went through a renaissance. Around the turn of the 20th century, herbs had become devalued in society, though there was a resurgence in interest in the 1930s and 1940s led by scholarly garden-club women such as Eleanor Rhode and Rosetta Clarkson, leading to the foundation of herbal guilds and societies. However, by the late 1960s, most people knew and cared little about herbs as garden plants, seasonings, or medicines. This began to change when the counterculture (and, to a certain extent, the pre-bicentennial celebrators) embraced and promoted the study and growing of herbs, and the use of herbal medicine.

The old woman who lived in the woods, either as a good or bad witch, or the miraculous young woman who dispensed magical healing, were alread features of the folk and fairy tales ardently collected and dispensed by 19th century ethnologists. But in this time period, studies such as the Foxfire Books brought the 'cunning' and 'wise' men and women who practiced folk healing in remote areas-- the Ozarks, the Appalachians-- as their predecessors in remote areas of 18th and 19th century Europe had practiced folk medicine. We'll call these folk healers 'empirics,' a term that was first used in the middle ages by University-trained physicians for those who were not informed by University knowledge and theory. An example of such a folk-healer, folk-witch appears in Nancy Springer's The Hex Witch of Seldom.

Women's studies historians were attempting to retrieve the history of the daily life of women ("the world's best kept secret: Merely the private lives of one-half of humanity" as Carolyn Kizer put it in "Pro Femina"). Women as nurses, nurturers, home doctors, were traced back, by these historians, to the suppression of the empiric medical practicioners and the witches; and here is where the witches come in to our narrative.

So, the herbalist of fantasy has some standard attributes:

• Exclusively female
  
• Generally lives alone, in the woods or at the edge of the town
  
• Raises, compounds and dispenses her own medications
  
• Medications are uncannily reliable.
  
• Respected and/or feared by the community
  
• Some sort of tension or conflict with 'the authorities,' whether church or otherwise
  
• Often practices 'older'/pagan religion; always very close to nature
  
• Often a witch or other magic-worker.
  
• Makes a living from her herbalism/curing
  
• Strong sense of responsibility for her patients
  

The first two examples in fantasy literature I gave, because they really outstanding ones:

• Keisha, in the second and third books of Mercedes Lackey & Larry Dixon's Owl Mage trilogy, Owlsight and Owlknight. Keisha is a young woman who has just moved out of her parents house into a comfortable cottage provided for her because she is the village healer. She grows, compounds and dispenses her own herbal remedies, as well as trading for them; she is paid for her healing by a sort of barter-salary arrangement where food and other things are provided for her use. She is aware of the medical basis for her treatments, and she is able to do some magical healing. She won't leave her village to go to a far-off healer's college because that would leave her village without a local healer. And yes, she later comes into conflict with authorities over a healing intervention.
  
• Juniper, in Monica Furlong's Wise Child, who is a practitioner of an earth religion, who cures by both herbal and magical means, who is a lot more educated and tolerant than her Christian neighbors. She lives on a hill outside the village, and is feared but respected by the villagers, and in conflict with the Christian priest. [Curiously, though the story seems to be set around the turn of the first millenium AD in Britain, a Church Inquisitor makes a late appearance; the Inquisition was organized in the 13th century.]
  

Some notes from my presentation at Darkover, "Beyond the Herb-wife: Feminism and the Fantasy Herbalist."

I started out with a disclaimer:
"I've been an herbalist, studying herbs and their history for over 25 years. I'm also a feminist and a pagan. But more than that, I'm a librarian. And if you know librarians, you know that they like fantasy, they like fiction, and they like non-fiction-- but they like the fiction and the non-fiction on separate shelves."

"We're going to be talking about the stereotype of the herbalist/healer/midwife in fantasy, and in history, and in feminist historiography. In the course of that, we're going to be taking on some foundational mythologies of fantasy, of women's studies, and of herbalism. I'm hoping I won't offend anyone, but please feel free to say something, make a comment or a question, if you want. If anyone is so offended they feel they have to leave, that's fine; I'll understand."

I then read out the definitions of herbwoman and herbs from Diana Wynne Jones' Tough Guide to Fantasyland to show the stereotype.

In the mainstream literature, there isn't a lot that is specifically aimed at discussing Apothecary practice, so when I saw Hugh Petrie's The Apothecaries Shop Opened and the companion volume, The Still Room Opened, published by Stuart Press, I was very excited. Admittedly, these pamphlet size works can't cover material to much depth, and they are essentially home-published'. Hugh Petrie's spelling and sometimes grammar are somewhat erratic.The hand-sketched
illustrations are usually clear and give at least as detailed an idea of what goes on, for instance in distilling, as one would find in a good period woodcut (see John French's Art of Distillation for comparision).

As overviews of 16th and 17th century apothecary practice and distillation they make a good beginning. The target audience appears to be 17th-century re-enactors and interpreters, but material from In The Apothecaries Shop does cover earlier time periods to some extent. The Still Room is a good introduction to the terminology and equipment of medieval distillation, though the author cautions that all(?) distillation is forbidden in Great Britain and should be avoided. But The Still Room helped me to understand a good many terms and descriptions I'd been struggling with. In particular, there are some practical points about distilling spice oils vs herb oils, the different 'heats' of distillation, etc. that are helpful.

The Apothecaries' Shop discusses the nature and status of apothecaries, ingredients and their background, and gives some sample ingredients and recipes. Again, this is targetted primarily to the re-enactor, so things I would consider key are left out, and modern-ish applications are emphasized. But again, a good background, with lots of specific examples. There are descriptions of various pieces of equipment and a drawing/plan of a useful druggists' cabinet as well.

My biggest quarrel with this series is one the author admits:

"Although a lot of work went into this booklet it is a summary of other peoples work. Sometimes I have included references, but mostly I simply have not had the space to credit work. I apologize in advance to those who recognize their work here but are not mentioned."

-- Petrie, The Apothecaries Shop Opened, vol. I, p. 3.

To me, I'm afraid, such an admission is tantamount to admitting plagiarism. At the very least, a lot of information in this text would be infinitely improved by some sort of references. At minimum, a bibliography for further reference would be an immense improvement.

Still, for less than $13.00 for the pair, available from Sykes Sutlering in the U.S., this was well worth my money, if only to encourage others to keep collecting information and publishing it. I'd recommend both texts for those interested in the background of our art.