THE DOCTRINE OF SIGNATURES AND ASTROLOGICAL BOTANY
During the preceding chapters, we have restricted our discussion to
those writings which may be credited with having taken some part,
however slight, in advancing the knowledge of plants. We have, as it
were, confined our attention to the main stream of botanical progress,
and its tributaries. But before concluding, it may be well to call to
mind the existence of more than one backwater, connected indeed with
the main channel, but leading nowhere.
The subject of the superstitions, with which herb collecting has been
hedged about at different periods, is far too wide to be dealt with in
detail in the present book. We have referred in earlier chapters to
the observances with which the Greek herb-gatherers surrounded their
calling (p. 7) and to the mysterious dangers which are described in the
‘Herbarium’ of Apuleius as attending the uprooting of the Mandrake (p.
36). There is comparatively little reference to such matters in the
works of the German Fathers of Botany or those of the greatest of their
successors; indeed, as we have previously mentioned (pp. 55-58, 103,
104), Bock’s famous ‘Kreuter Bůch’ and William Turner’s herbal contain
definite refutations of various superstitions.
Contemporaneously, however, with the fine series of herbals of the
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, there appeared a succession of
books about plants, which had as their subjects one or both of two
topics—the “doctrine of signatures,” and “astrological botany.” These
works cannot be said to have furthered the science to any appreciable
extent, but they have considerable interest, rather on account of the
curious light which they throw upon the attitude of mind of their
writers (and presumably their readers also) than from any intrinsic
merit. One of these authors, in his preface, speaks of the “Notions”
and “Observations” contained in his work, “most of which I am confident
are true, and if there be any that are not so, yet they are pleasant.”
The excuse that the “Notions,” cherished by the botanical mystics
of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, were “pleasant,” even
if untrue, may perhaps be offered in extenuation of the very brief
discussion of their salient points, which we propose to undertake in
the present chapter.
[Illustration: Text-fig. 107. Mandrake [Brunfels, Contrafayt
Kreüterbuch, Ander Teyl, 1537].]
The most famous of those mystical writers who turned their attention
to botany was undoubtedly Philippus Aureolus Theophrastus Bombastus
of Hohenheim, better known by the name of Paracelsus (1493-1541). His
portrait is shown in Text-fig. 108. He was a doctor, as his father
had been before him, and in 1527 he became professor at Basle. Here
he gave great offence by lecturing in the vulgar tongue, burning the
writings of Avicenna and Galen, and interpreting his own works instead
of those of the ancients. His disregard of cherished traditions, and
his personal peculiarities led to difficulties with his colleagues, and
he only held his post for a very short time. For the rest of his life
he was a wanderer on the face of the earth, and he died in comparative
poverty at Salzburg in 1541.
[Illustration: Text-fig. 108. Theophrastus von Hohenheim, called
Paracelsus (1493-1541) [From a medal, see F. P. Weber, Appendix II].]
The character and writings of Paracelsus are full of the strangest
contradictions. Browning’s poem perhaps gives a better idea of his
career than any prose account aiming at historical accuracy. His life
was so strange that the imagination of a poet is needed to revitalise
it for us to-day. His almost incredible boastfulness is the main
characteristic that everyone remembers—the word “bombast” being, in
all probability, coined from his name. In one of his works, after
contemptuously dismissing all the great physicians who had preceded
him—Galen, Avicenna and others—he remarks, “I shall be the Monarch and
mine shall the monarchy be[36].” The conclusion that he was something
of a quack can hardly be avoided, but at the same time it must be
confessed that his writings were occasionally illumined with real
scientific insight, and that he infused new life into chemistry and
medicine.
Paracelsus’ actual knowledge of botany appears to have been meagre, for
not more than a couple of dozen plant names are found in his works.
To understand his views on the properties of plants it is necessary
to turn for a moment to his chemical theories. He regarded “sulphur,”
“salt,” and “mercury” as the three fundamental principles of all
bodies. The sense in which he uses these terms is symbolic, and thus
differs entirely from that in which they are employed to-day. “Sulphur”
appears to embody the ideas of change, combustibility, volatilisation
and growth; “salt,” those of stability and non-inflammability;
“mercury,” that of fluidity. The “virtues” of plants depend, according
to Paracelsus, upon the proportions in which they contain these three
principles.
The medicinal properties of plants are thus the outcome of qualities
that are not obvious at sight. How, then, is the physician to be guided
in selecting herbal remedies to cure the several ailments of his
patients? The answer to this question given by Paracelsus is summed up
in what is known as the _Doctrine of Signatures_.
According to this doctrine, many medicinal herbs are stamped, as it
were, with some clear indication of their uses. This may perhaps be
best understood by means of a quotation from Paracelsus himself (in the
words of a seventeenth-century English translation). “I have oft-times
declared, how by the outward shapes and qualities of things we may know
their inward Vertues, which God hath put in them for the good of man.
So in St Johns wort, we may take notice of the form of the leaves and
flowers, the porosity of the leaves, the Veins. 1. The porositie or
holes in the leaves, signifie to us, that this herb helps both inward
and outward holes or cuts in the skin.... 2. The flowers of Saint Johns
wort, when they are putrified they are like blood; which teacheth us,
that this herb is good for wounds, to close them and fill them up” etc.
It is sometimes held that the real originator of the theory of
signatures, in any approximation to a scientific form, was Giambattista
Porta, who was probably born at Naples shortly before the death of
Paracelsus. He wrote a book about human physiognomy, in which he
endeavoured to find, in the bodily form of man, indications as to his
character and spiritual qualities. This study suggested to him the idea
that the inner qualities, and the healing powers of the herbs might
also be revealed by external signs, and thus led to his famous work,
the ‘Phytognomonica,’ which was first published at Naples in 1588.
Porta developed his theory in detail, and pushed it to great lengths.
He supposed, for example, that long-lived plants would lengthen a
man’s life, while short-lived plants would abbreviate it. He held that
herbs with a yellow sap would cure jaundice, while those whose surface
was rough to the touch would heal those diseases that destroy the
natural smoothness of the skin. The resemblance of certain plants to
certain animals opened to Porta a vast field of dogmatism on a basis
of conjecture. Plants with flowers shaped like butterflies would, he
supposed, cure the bites of insects, while those whose roots or fruits
had a jointed appearance, and thus remotely suggested a scorpion, must
necessarily be sovereign remedies for the sting of that creature. Porta
also detected many obscure points of resemblance between the flowers
and fruits of certain plants, and the limbs and organs of certain
animals. In such cases of resemblance he held that an investigation of
the temperament of the animal in question would determine what kind
of disease the plant was intended to cure. It will be recognised from
these examples that the doctrine of signatures was remarkably elastic,
and was not fettered by any rigid consistency.
[Illustration: Text-fig. 109. Herbs of the Scorpion [Porta,
Phytognomonica, 1591].]
The illustrations of the ‘Phytognomonica’ are of great interest as
interpreting Porta’s point of view. The part of man’s body which is
healed by a particular herb, or the animal whose bites or stings can
be cured by it, are represented in the same wood-cut as the herb.
For example, the back view of a human head with a thick crop of hair
is introduced into the block with the Maidenhair Fern, which is an
ancient specific for baldness; a Pomegranate with its seeds exposed,
and a plant of “Toothwort,” with its hard, white scale-leaves, are
represented in the same figure as a set of human teeth; a drawing
of a scorpion accompanies some pictures of plants with articulated
seed-vessels (Text-fig. 109) and an adder’s head is introduced below
the drawing of the plant known as the “Adder’s tongue.”
It would serve little purpose to deal in detail with the various
exponents of the doctrine of signatures, such, for example, as Johann
Popp, who in 1625 published a herbal written from this standpoint,
and containing also some astrological botany. We will only now refer
to one of the later champions of the signatures of plants, an English
herbalist of the seventeenth century, who made the subject peculiarly
his own. This was William Cole[37], a Fellow of New College, Oxford,
who lived and botanised at Putney in Surrey. He seems to have been a
person of much character, and his vigorous arguments would often be
very telling, were it possible to admit the soundness of his premisses.
William Cole carried the doctrine of signatures to as extreme a point
as can well be imagined. His account of the Walnut, from his work ‘Adam
in Eden,’ 1657, may be quoted as an illustration: “_Wall-nuts_ have
the perfect Signature of the Head: The outer husk or green Covering,
represent the _Pericranium_, or outward skin of the skull, whereon the
hair groweth, and therefore salt made of those husks or barks, are
exceeding good for wounds in the head. The inner wooddy shell hath
the Signature of the Skull, and the little yellow skin, or Peel, that
covereth the Kernell of the hard _Meninga_ and _Pia-mater_, which are
the thin scarfes that envelope the brain. The _Kernel_ hath the very
figure of the Brain, and therefore it is very profitable for the Brain,
and resists poysons; For if the Kernel be bruised, and moystned with
the quintessence of Wine, and laid upon the Crown of the Head, it
comforts the brain and head mightily.”
In Cole’s writings we meet with instances of a curious confusion of
thought, which characterised the doctrine of signatures. The signature
in some cases represents an animal injurious to man, and is taken to
denote that the plant in question will cure its bites or stings. For
instance, “That Plant that is called _Adders tongue_, because the
stalke of it represents one, is a soveraigne wound Herbe to cure the
biting of an Adder.” In other cases, the signature represents one of
the organs of the human body, and indicates that the plant will cure
diseases of that organ. For example, “_Heart Trefoyle_ is so called,
not onely because the Leafe is Triangular like the Heart of a Man, but
also because each Leafe containes the perfect Icon of an Heart, and
that in its proper colour, _viz._ a flesh colour. It defendeth the
Heart against the noisome vapour of the Spleen.”
Cole seems to have possessed a philosophic mind, and to have
endeavoured to follow his theories to their logical conclusion. He was
much exercised because a large proportion of the plants with undoubted
medicinal virtues have no obvious signatures. He concluded that a
certain number were endowed with signatures, in order to set man on
the right track in his search for herbal remedies; the remainder were
purposely left blank, in order to encourage his skill and resource in
discovering their properties for himself. A further ingenious argument
is that a number of plants are left without signatures, because if all
were signed, “the rarity of it, which is the delight, would be taken
away by too much harping upon one string.”
Our author was evidently a keen and enthusiastic collector of herbs.
In his book ‘The Art of Simpling’ (1656) he complains bitterly that
physicians leave the gathering of herbs to the apothecaries, and the
latter “rely commonly upon the words of the silly Hearb-women, who many
times bring them _Quid_ for _Quo_, then which nothing can be more sad.”
Another strong supporter in this country of the doctrine of signatures
was the astrological botanist, Robert Turner. He definitely states that
“God hath imprinted upon the Plants, Herbs, and Flowers, as it were in
Hieroglyphicks, the very signature of their Vertues.”
It is interesting to find that the doctrine of signatures was
repudiated by the best of the sixteenth-century herbalists. Dodoens,
for instance, wrote in 1583 that “the doctrine of the Signatures of
Plants has received the authority of no ancient writer who is held in
any esteem: moreover it is so changeable and uncertain that, as far
as science or learning is concerned, it seems absolutely unworthy of
acceptance[38].”
A later writer, Guy de la Brosse, criticised the theory very acutely,
pointing out that it was quite easy to imagine any resemblance between
a plant and an animal that happened to be convenient. “C’est comme des
nuées,” he writes, “que l’on fait ressembler à tout ce que la fantaisie
se represente, à une Gruë, à une Grenoüille, à un homme, à une armee,
et autres semblables visions[39].”
Both Paracelsus and Porta deprecate the use of foreign drugs, on
the ground that in the country where a disease arises, there nature
produces means to overcome it. This idea is one which constantly recurs
in the herbals. In 1664 Robert Turner wrote, “For what Climate soever
is subject to any particular Disease, in the same Place there grows
a Cure.” There is ample evidence of the survival of this theory even
in the nineteenth century; for instance, in the preface to Thomas
Green’s ‘Universal Herbal’ of 1816 we find the remark, “Nature has,
in this country, as well as in all others, provided, in the herbs of
its own growth, the remedies for the several diseases to which it is
most subject.” The notion persists indeed to the present day; there is
a widespread belief among children, for example, that Docks always
grow in the neighbourhood of Stinging Nettles, in order to provide a
cure _in situ_! Whether this view contains any grain of truth or not,
it certainly deserves our gratitude, since it led to Dr Maclagan’s
discovery of Salicin as a cure for rheumatic fever. On the ground that
in the case of malarial diseases “the poisons which cause them and the
remedy which cures them are naturally produced under similar climatic
conditions,” Maclagan sought and found, in the bark of the Willow,
which inhabits low-lying, damp situations, this drug, which has proved
so valuable in the treatment of rheumatism[40].
The doctrine of signatures is not the only piece of botanical mysticism
associated with the name of Paracelsus. He was also a firm believer
in the influence of the heavenly bodies upon the vegetable world,
or, in other words, in botanical astrology. He considered that each
plant was under the influence of some particular star, and that it was
this influence which drew the plant out of the earth when the seed
germinated. He held each plant to be a terrestrial star, and each star,
a spiritualised plant. Giambattista Porta also believed in a relation
between certain plants and corresponding stars or planets. A figure in
his ‘Phytognomonica’ here reproduced (Text-fig. 110) shows a number of
“lunar plants.”
[Illustration: Text-fig. 110. Lunar Herbs [Porta, Phytognomonica,
1591].]
In order to appreciate the attitude in which Paracelsus and his
followers approached the subject of the relation between plants and
stars, it is necessary to realise the position which Astrology had come
to occupy in the Middle Ages[41].
It was in ancient Babylon that this pseudo-science mainly took its
rise. Here the five planets which we now call Jupiter, Venus, Saturn,
Mars and Mercury, and also the Sun and Moon, were identified, in
certain senses, with seven great Gods. The movements of these heavenly
bodies were supposed to represent in symbolic fashion the deeds of
these Gods. It was thought possible to interpret the movements and
relative positions of the planets and the sun and moon, in a way that
threw light upon the fate of mankind, in so far as it depended upon the
Gods in question.
Some centuries before the Christian era, Babylonian astrology began to
influence the nations farther to the West. In Greece, the subject took
a more personal turn and it was believed that the fate, not only of
nations but of individuals, was determined in the skies, and could be
foretold from the position of the planets at the time of a man’s birth.
At a later period, speculation on the subject was carried further and
further, until finally not only men, but all animals, vegetables and
minerals were associated, either with particular planets, or with the
constellations of the Zodiac.
That a belief in the influence of the moon upon plants dates back to
very early times in western Europe, is shown by the statement, in
Pliny’s ‘Natural History,’ that the Druids in Britain gathered the
Mistletoe for medical purposes, with many rites and ceremonies, when
the moon was six days old. To trace the history of astrology in detail
is altogether beyond our province, but, as an example of its universal
acceptance, we may recall the reference to the supreme influence of
the stars in the preface of the Herbarius zu Teutsch of 1485 (see p.
19). Astrological ideas were familiar in Elizabethan England, and are
reflected in many passages in Shakespeare’s plays, never perhaps more
charmingly than in Beatrice’s laughing words—“there was a star danced,
and under that I was born.”
Paracelsus, though his name is so well known in this connection, was
by no means the first writer on botanical astrology. A book called ‘De
virtutibus herbarum,’ erroneously attributed to Albertus Magnus, had a
wide circulation from early times, being first printed in the fifteenth
century. It was translated into many languages, one English version
appearing about 1560 under the title ‘The boke of secretes of Albartus
Magnus, of the vertues of Herbes, stones and certaine beastes.’ It does
not contain very much information about plants, being mostly occupied
with animals and minerals, but there are very definite references to
astrology. For instance we are told that if the Marigold “be gathered,
the Sunne beynge in the sygne Leo, in August, and be wrapped in the
leafe of a Laurell, or baye tree, and a wolves tothe be added therto,
no man shal be able to have a word to speake agaynst the bearer therof,
but woordes of peace.” Concerning the Plantain we read, “The rote of
this herbe is mervalous good agaynst the payne of the headde, because
the signe of the Ramme is supposed to be the house of the planete Mars,
which is the head of the whole worlde.”
The herbal of Bartholomæus Carrichter (1575), in which the plants are
arranged according to the signs of the Zodiac, is considerably more
complete and elaborate than the book to which we have just referred.
It seems however impossible to discover the principle, if any, which
guided the author in connecting any given herb with one sign of the
Zodiac rather than another.
Much stress is laid in this herbal on the hour at which the herbs ought
to be gathered, great importance being ascribed to the state of the
moon at the time. We are reminded of a passage in ‘The Merchant of
Venice’ where Jessica says of a bright moonlight evening—
“In such a night
Medea gather’d the enchanted herbs
That did renew old Æson.”
This aspect of the subject is emphasised in a curious little book
published in 1571, Nicolaus Winckler’s ‘Chronica herbarum,’ which is an
astrological calendar giving information as to the appropriate times
for gathering different roots and herbs.
Almost contemporaneously with Carrichter’s ‘Kreutterbůch,’ the first
part of a work on astrological botany was published by Leonhardt
Thurneisser zum Thurn. This writer, who was possessed of undoubted
talent, was also an adventurer and charlatan of the first order. He
was born at Basle in 1530. He learned his father’s craft, that of a
goldsmith, and is said to have also helped a local doctor to collect
and prepare herbs, and to have been employed to read aloud to him from
the works of Paracelsus. His career in Basle came to an untimely end,
for he seems to have tried to retaliate on some customers who treated
him badly, by selling them gilded lead as a substitute for gold, and
consequently had to flee the country when the fraud was discovered.
He travelled widely, making an especial study of mining. He had an
adventurous and varied life, sometimes in poverty and obscurity,
sometimes in wealth and renown.
During Thurneisser’s most influential period he lived in Berlin,
practising medicine, making amulets, talismans, and secret remedies
which yielded large profits. He also published astrological calendars,
cast nativities, and supplemented his income by the practice of
usury. At this time he owned a printing press, and employed a large
staff which included artists and engravers. Later on, he was pursued
by a succession of misfortunes, including accusations of magic and
witchcraft, which compelled him to leave Germany. Little is known
of the latter part of his life; he died in the last decade of the
sixteenth century.
Leonhardt Thurneisser projected a great botanical work in ten books.
The first was published in Berlin in 1578, but the others never
appeared. The title was ‘Historia unnd Beschreibung Influentischer,
Elementischer und Natürlicher Wirckungen, Aller fremden unnd heimischen
Erdgewechssen.’ A Latin version of this book, under the name, ‘Historia
sive descriptio plantarum,’ was published in the same year. This
first instalment deals only with the Umbellifers, which were regarded
as under the dominion of the Sun and Mars. The nomenclature and
the figures are not clear enough to allow individual species to be
recognised. Each is drawn in an ellipse surrounded by an ornamental
border, which contains mystical inscriptions denoting the properties of
the plant (e.g. Plate XX). In some cases diagrams are given, showing
the conjunction of the stars under which the herb should be gathered
(Text-fig. 111).
[Illustration: _Plate XX_
‘Cervaria fomina’ [Thurneisser, Historia sive descriptio plantarum,
1587].]
[Illustration: Text-fig. 111. Astrological Diagram relating to the
gathering of “Cervaria fœmina” [Thurneisser, Historia sive Descriptio
Plantarum, 1587].]
After the manner of the ancients, Thurneisser describes plants,
according to their qualities, as either male or female. He also adds a
third class, typified by a child, to symbolise those whose qualities
are feeble. It may perhaps be worth while to translate here a few
sentences of the first chapter of the ‘Historia[42],’ to show how far
such writers as Leonhardt Thurneisser had departed from the pursuit
of the subject upon legitimate lines. When discussing the planting
of roots and herbs and the gathering of seeds, he declares that “it
is absolutely essential that these operations should be performed so
as to correspond with the stations and positions of the planets and
heavenly bodies, to whose control diseases are properly subject. And
against disease we have to employ herbs, with due regard of course to
the sex, whichever it be, of human beings; and so herbs intended to
benefit the male sex should be procured when the Sun or Moon is in some
male sign [of the Zodiac], e.g. Sagittarius or Aquarius, or if this is
impossible, at least when they are in Leo. Similarly herbs intended
to benefit women should be gathered under some female sign, Virgo, of
course, or, if that is impossible, in Taurus or Cancer.”
In the seventeenth century, England became strongly infected with
astrological botany. The most notorious exponent of the subject was
Nicholas Culpeper (1616-1654), who, about 1640, set up as an astrologer
and physician in Spitalfields. His portrait is reproduced in Plate
XXI. He created great indignation among the medical profession by
publishing, under the name of ‘A Physicall Directory,’ an unauthorised
English translation of the Pharmacopœia, which had been issued by
the College of Physicians. That Culpeper was unpopular with orthodox
medical practitioners is hardly surprising, when we consider the way
in which he speaks of them in this book, as “a company of proud,
insulting, domineering Doctors, whose wits were born above five
hundred years before themselves.” He goes on to ask—“Is it handsom and
wel-beseeming a Common-wealth to see a Doctor ride in State, in Plush
with a footcloath, and not a grain of Wit but what was in print before
he was born?”
Many editions of the ‘Physicall Directory’ were issued under different
names. As ‘The English Physician enlarged,’ it enjoyed great
popularity, and was reprinted as late as the nineteenth century.
The edition of 1653 is described on the title-page as “Being an
Astrologo-Physical Discourse of the Vulgar Herbs of this Nation:
Containing a Compleat Method of Physick, whereby a man may preserve his
Body in Health; or Cure himself, being Sick, for three pence Charge,
with such things only as grow in _England_, they being most fit for
English Bodies.”
[Illustration: _Plate XXI_
NICHOLAS CULPEPER (1616-1654).
[A Physicall Directory, 1649. Engraving by Cross.]]
Culpeper describes certain herbs as being under the dominion of the
sun, the moon, or a planet, and others as under a planet and also
one of the constellations of the Zodiac. His reasons for connecting
a particular herb with a particular heavenly body are curiously
inconsequent. He states, for example, that “Wormwood is an Herb of
_Mars_, ... I prove it thus; What delights in Martial places, is a
Martial Herb; but Wormwood delights in Martial places (for about Forges
and Iron Works you may gather a Cart load of it) _Ergo_ it is a Martial
Herb.”
The author explains that each disease is caused by a planet. One
way of curing the ailment is by the use of herbs belonging to an
opposing planet—e.g. diseases produced by Jupiter are healed by the
herbs of Mercury. On the other hand, the illness may be cured “by
sympathy,” that is by the use of herbs belonging to the planet which is
responsible for the disease.
Culpeper indulges in a strange maze of similar reasons to justify the
use of Wormwood for affections of the eyes. “The Eyes are under the
Luminaries; the right Eye of a Man, and the left Eye of a Woman the
_Sun_ claims Dominion over: The left Eye of a Man, and the right Eye of
a Woman, are the priviledg of the _Moon_, Wormwood an Herb of _Mars_
cures both[43]; what belongs to the _Sun_ by Sympathy, because he is
exalted in his House; but what belongs to the _Moon_ by Antipathy,
becaus he hath his Fal in hers.”
It is somewhat surprising to find that, in his preface, Culpeper
claims that he surpasses all his predecessors in being alone guided
by reason, whereas all previous writers are “as full of nonsense and
contradictions as an Egg is ful of meat.”
Culpeper met with considerable opposition and criticism from his
contemporaries. Shortly after his death, William Cole in his ‘Art of
Simpling’ wrote scornfully of astrological botanists, “Amongst which
Master _Culpeper_ (a man now dead, and therefore I shall speak of him
as modestly as I can, for were he alive I should be more plain with
him) was a great Stickler; And he, forsooth, judgeth all men unfit to
be Physitians, who are not Artists in Astrology, as if he and some
other Figure-flingers his companions, had been the onely Physitians
in _England_, whereas for ought I can gather, either by his Books, or
learne from the report of others, he was a man very ignorant in the
forme of Simples.”
It is interesting to notice that Cole, though he seems to the modern
reader very credulous on the subject of the signatures of plants, was
completely sceptical as to the association of astrology and botany.
The main argument by which he tries to discredit it is an ingenious
one. The knowledge of herbs is, he says, “a subject as antient as the
Creation (as the Scriptures witnesse) yea more antient then the Sunne,
or Moon, or Starres, they being created on the fourth day, whereas
Plants were the third. Thus did God even at first confute the folly of
those Astrologers, who goe about to maintaine that all vegitables in
their growth, are enslaved to a necessary and unavoidable dependance on
the influences of the Starres; Whereas Plants were, even when Planets
were not.”