Weeds Are Flowers Too, Once You Get To Know Them

He doubted if there was a finer Benedictine garden in the whole kingdom, or one better supplied with herbs both good for spicing meats, and also invaluable as medicine. The main orchards and lands of the Shrewsbury abbey of Saint Peter and Saint Paul lay on the northern side of the road, outside the monastic enclave, but here, in the enclosed garden within the walls, close to the abbot’s fishponds and the brook that worked the abbey mill, Brother Cadfael ruled unchallenged.

             This is the monastic garden as described by Ellis Peters in A Morbid Taste for Bones. I am clearly not alone, judging by the amount of hits on Google, in associating monastic gardening first and foremost with Brother Cadfael.
            The monastic estates were of course only one of the many different types of garden in the medieval period. There was the earthly paradise, the enclosed garden and the courtly gardens of Romance. But my preference is still for the abbey gardens of the Benedictines or Cistercians.

Betony, MS Ashmole 1431, f. 3v.

            In the monastic garden every plant had a purpose or use. These functions were recorded in herbals, books that documented in word and image the medicinal and culinary properties of herbs. MS Ashmole 1431 is one example of a medieval monastic herbal. It was made at the turn of the eleventh century, between c. 1070 and 1100, at St Augustine’s Abbey in Canterbury. This herbal contained over 150 illustrated descriptions of herbs and many others with unfinished drawings.
            It would be ignorant to assume that just because they were alive several hundred years ago, before the wonders of modern science, that medieval people were incorrect about the uses of many herbs. In fact a herb such as betony, which was used as a cure for maladies of the head, is still used in herbal remedies for headaches and nervous tension today.

Male Mandrake, MS Ashmole, f. 31r.

            There were some plants that held particular importance in folklore or superstition. The mandrake is probably the most well known example. Medieval bestiaries described the mandrake as a powerful healing herb, but warned that its screams could cause death or madness. William Shakespeare wrote in Romeo and Juliet, “And shrieks like mandrakes torn out of the earth/ That living mortals hearing them run mad.” The mandrake presumably attracted such tales due to its hallucinogenic properties, and also its strange humanoid appearance as here described by Karen Maitland in her novel The Gallows Curse.

‘Can it be...is it genuine?’

          But she didn’t need him to answer that question for as soon as she took it in her bare hands she could feel it stirring to life. It was a black and twisted thing, a shrivelled root, shaped like a human with a body, two arms, two legs and face as wrinkled as time itself. A mandrake! A genuine mandrake and here in her own hands. He was right; it was a creature beyond price.

Pennyroyal, MS Ashmole, f. 24v.

Herbs and plants were not only benevolent medicines, but could also if used in the wrong way be poisonous. Comfrey, for example, was used in the medieval period in a poultice to help heal fractures and bruising, but it wasn’t until the late twentieth century that medical studies revealed that the herb if taken internally could be toxic for the liver. There were undoubtedly some herbs that medieval people knew to be poisonous and used them as such. In this fictional example taken from Susanna Gregory’s A Vein of Deceit it is pennyroyal, a species of mint that in high quantities acts as an abortifacient, which is used as a poison.

One of the maids picked up Joan’s cloak, intending to lay it over the body. As she did so, a little pottery jar dropped out. Had it landed on the flagstones, it would have shattered, but it fell on a rug, then rolled under the bench. Bartholomew bent to retrieve it.

            ‘A tincture containing pennyroyal,’ he said, after removing the stopper and sniffing the contents. He poured a little into his hand, then wiped it off on his leggings. ‘Not the herb, but the oil, which can be distilled by steaming. It is highly toxic.’
            Mother Cotton nodded her satisfaction at being right. ‘It is the plant of choice for expelling an unwanted child.’

Rievaulx Abbey in North Yorkshire has recently had a small herb garden planted amongst its ruins. Between Monday 25th July and Monday 29th August English Heritage are running a ‘Monks Herb Trail’ at the Abbey, inviting families to discover the diverse plants that Rievaulx’s monks may have grown and their various uses. I think that these activities and attempts at recreation are important. Empty shells of buildings are often all that is left for the modern visitor to appreciate, and as such it is easy to forget that an abbey was once a living, growing and often vibrant community.