At high summer the countryside, particularly in the vicinity of ancient hedges,
is embellished with purple-petalled flowers, with a sprinkling of yellow for
contrast. Prominent are the two woundworts, hedge and marsh, of which the marsh
woundwort (Stachys palustris) is the more striking, favouring damp locations.
In comparison, its hedge counterpart (S sylvatica) is a duller creature. Both
have been used as their name suggests, but the marsh plant has a striking record.
In his 1597 Herbal, John Gerard calls this plant “clown’s woundwort”
and explains how the name arose. Gerard also mentions that it grew “in
the meadowes by Lambeth, neere London”. Its leaves “stamped with hogs
grease and applied unto greene woundes in the manner of a pultesse heale them
in a short time, and in such absolute manner, that it is hard for any that have
not had the experience thereof to beleeve”.
In
his wanderings in Kent, Gerard came across a harvester who had cut his leg to
the bone with a scythe and was bleeding freely. But the remedy was growing nearby.
“The poore man crept to his herbe, which he bruised with his hands, and
tied a great quantity of it unto the wound with a piece of his shirt.”
This so stanched the bleeding and relieved the pain “that the poore man
presently went to his daies work againe, and so did from day to day without
resting one day until he was perfectly whole”. When Gerard offered his
professional services, the man said that he could manage by himself: “a
clownish answer, I confesse without any thankes for my goodwill; wherefore I
have named it Clownes Wound-wort.”
Later, Gerard accomplished several similar cures with the help of marsh woundwort.
Its virtues were endorsed by John Hill in his Family Herbal of 1772: “It
is an excellent wound herb, but must be used fresh. The leaves are to be bruised
and laid upon a new-made wound, without any addition.”
The closely related herb betony (Betonica officinalis), another of the purple
summer flowers, once had a great reputation. John Pechey wrote of it in the
17th century: “’Tis hot and dry, acrid and bitter, it discusses, attenuates,
opens and cleanses.” Betony, however, had some witchcraft associations,
and in Shropshire was known as “the Devil’s plaything”.
Yet another purple flower, the purple loosestrife (Lythrum salicaria), is the
inhabitant of marshy land. It was once used in eye lotions for soothing and
stimulating. Its name, however, derives from ancient times, when it was believed,
when placed on the neck of fractious oxen yoked to the plough, to calm then
down and make them act in concert. By extension, this property was said to be
of use when humans were quarrelsome. When touched by loosestrife their tempers
subsided and reconciliation followed. Just the remedy, I suggest, for those
who indulge in road-rage at the slightest setback.