These Pagan Portals are all current works in progress, serialised here on the Pagan Collective blog with each chapter being open for comment. In due course the entire script will be published as a Pagan Portal book.

Chapter Three – A History of Irish Herbal Medicine

The history of medicine and related folklore in Ireland is a huge topic, and so I can only give a brief overview here. Please do dig into the references at the back of this book if you would like to learn more. My intention here is to ground Airmid in the history and folklore that surrounds both her and her healing plants.

Medical laws and healing tracts

Ireland had its own, well established system of medicine at the time of the writing of Airmid’s myth in the Cath Maige Tuired, as well as laws relating to injury and illness. The eighth century Bretha Dianchect or The Judgments of Dian Cecht^[1], referencing the healer god himself, lists the compensations due to those who had been wounded. The compensations varied depending on the severity of the wound and the part of the body which was injured. There is less information about the details of the actual healing methods used, but protocols for the care and maintenance of sick people were given in another law tract, the Bretha Crolige ; with a focus on hospitality and the responsibility of chiefs to care for the more vulnerable. Emphasis was placed on the replacing of lost income for dependents of the sick, standards of care and the provision of adequate nutrition. I’m sure many readers will agree that this is more than many of us can expect from our governments today, although we should remember these laws would not have been applied to everyone, or been distributed evenly across Ireland, which was then a collection of often warring tribes.

Even the environment that the sick were living in was paid attention to. The sick were to be kept calm and quiet. An extract from the Bretha Crolige reads:

No games are played in the house. No tidings are announced. No children are chastised. Neither men nor women exchange blows…No dogs are set fighting in his presence or in his neighbourhood outside. No shout is raised. No pigs squeal. No brawls are made. No cry of victory is raised. No yell or scream…^[2]

Greater compensation was awarded for any injury to parts of the body known as ‘the twelve doors to the soul’ which Dr. Rosarie Kingston suggests may refer to a bodily system similar to the meridians in Traditional Chinese Medicine or the Indian Ayurvedic marma system.These twelve doors are listed in the Bretha Dianchect (though some translations differ) as

• Crown of the head
• The hollow at the back of the head
• The temples
• The Adam’s apple
• The base of the throat
• The armpit
• The breastbone
• The navel
• The ‘side’ (this part of the manuscript isn’t clear)
• The bend of the elbow
• The groin
• The sole of the foot

As the centuries moved on, medical tracts proliferated, with incredible detail of both herbal medicine and even surgical methods given. We shouldn’t assume, of course, that earlier manuals didn’t exist; they may just have not survived, especially in an early medieval culture that was still largely oral. Contained in the myths themselves are not just herbal and magical healing but examples of medicinal baths, cupping and surgery,^[3] indicating that a comprehensive medical tradition existed before the later medieval tracts were written down.

A fourteenth century document, An Irish Materia Medica, was compiled from earlier sources across Europe and includes both medical tracts from other countries and Irish herbal knowledge. Certain families, such as the Lees and O’Shiels, were hereditary physicians attached to particular ruling families across Ireland, and also composed their own medical tracts, such as the Book of O’Shiels and the Book of Hy-Brasil. These books give inventories of various herbs and their uses.

These families of physicians were often awarded tracts of lands by the ruling families they served, as well as a decent income and way of life. After English colonisation and the Flight of the Earls in 1607, however, the Irish political landscape changed drastically and the old order collapsed. Some of the hereditary physicians fled abroad and continued their practice there.

The oral tradition

Not only did colonisation cause the organised medicine system in Ireland to fall apart, but ordinary people also lost access to the commons as land was enclosed, including the herb fields from which local herbs could be gathered for both culinary and medical purposes. Many of these had been attached to monasteries, and so were no longer accessible to the people after Henry VIII had them shut down.

Nonetheless, folk medicine continued and for many would have been their only access to healthcare, especially with the physicians and chieftains gone and thus no longer able to carry on the traditions of the Bretha Dianchect, where these were still in place.

As oral tradition was rarely written down and recorded in this period, our knowledge here is patchy. We know there was likely a rural practice of ‘cures’ which often included a mixture of herbal knowledge, prayers and charms, and that the practice of pilgrimage to the holy wells and relics of saints was widespread. Professional medicine, now dominated by university graduates mainly from the upper classes and operating on a for-profit basis, was largely completely inaccessible to the poor and working-classes. By the nineteenth century, as the Romantic period dawned and the Celtic Revival began to take shape, interest in folk medicine revived among the upper classes and they began to record the traditions of the rural people around them, though often the emphasis was on folklore and the Fairy Faith rather than the healing of common ailments. Still, those things are often intertwined in folk tradition, and those recording these practices often took great interest in the practices of folk healers, especially when healing charms were used or beings such as fairies blamed for ailments and injuries. Healing charms and herbal remedies were passed on orally, often down the family line.

The bean feasa and the witch

Rural folk healers could be any gender, but nevertheless we have a (albeit patchy) recorded history of the bean feasa, or wise woman, as well as the healer that worked mostly with herbs, the bean na luibheanna, or herb woman. Given that women were more likely to be carrying out childcare, cooking and foraging, it isn’t surprising that the healing of common ailments would often be a natural extension of women’s work. The more well-known rural healers were often known for employing  magical as well as naturalistic methods, or for having Fairy connections.

Perhaps the most famous Irish bean feasa is Biddy Early. The daughter of farmers, Biddy began her career as a maid in service and it was only in midlife, after a few husbands, that she began to acquire a widespread reputation both for healing and for having magical powers. She was believed to own a special bottle, given to her by the fairies, through whose glass she could see the future. She was also renowned for her herbal potions and was said to have a well by the side of her house from which healing water sprang. People sought her advice on how to avoid the wrath of the fairy folk, or how to appease them if they believed they had offended them. Biddy also used herbs to cure not just human ailments but also animal ones. People often relied on livestock for nutrition and income, and so animal healing was as sought after as human.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the Catholic clergy of Ireland often butted heads with Biddy, and with the tradition of bean feasa and rural healers in general. After the Catholic emancipation in 1829, the Catholic church had increasing power in Ireland, and its influence on and intertwining with organised medicine grew. Whereas folk healing practices such as visiting holy wells was often encouraged by the church (and no doubt helped with the sale of relics), visiting a bean feasa like Biddy, especially those believed to have ties with the fairies, was not. In 1865 Biddy Early was tried for witchcraft.^[4]

With the benefit of hindsight and knowledge of the European witch hunts, we may have expected this, but in fact Ireland, unlike England and especially lowland Scotland, remained largely untouched by the witch hunts. There have been various reasons offered for this; the fact that rural Ireland was Catholic (most wide-scale witch hunts were at least partly a result of the Reformation and increased Puritanism) and, as Ronald Hutton suggests^[5], the widespread belief in particularly malicious fairies, which meant fairies rather than one’s neighbours were blamed for unexplained misfortune. While there was also a belief in baneful magic and the ‘evil eye,’ folklore suggests that people believed the ‘evil eye’ could often be bestowed accidentally, rather than by a purposeful curse.

The fact that Early was still targeted in this way is perhaps an indication of just how challenged by her knowledge and popularity some of the clergy were. Nevertheless, Biddy was acquitted. The locals stood steadfastly behind her, and most of those who accused her withdrew the statements, leaving little case to answer. Biddy was beloved by her community, and her story, while unique in itself, illustrates the respect that the bean feasa and her contemporaries were accorded.

The writers of the Revival, such as Yeats and Lady Wilde, waxed lyrical about Biddy and her story passed into the popular imagination. Unfortunately this has also led to her story being often distorted. In the earlier sources Biddy is depicted, as with most rural healers, as not accepting money for her services, but rather donations of food or clothes. Yet a Yeats 1902 play has the line ‘as rich as Biddy Early’ and Lady Gregory described the rural wisewoman as ‘an old woman with little learning.’ Thus distortions of Biddy’s character grew, leading her to be seen alternatively as a stereotypical old hag, a quack, a swindler, and even a New Age role model.^[6]

She has also been seen as a role model by many modern Witches. The figure of the ‘wise woman’ or female folk healer, has become entwined in popular myth with the figure of the witch

and the European witch hunts, but in truth rural healers were not in general disproportionately targeted. Neither were midwives – in fact in some hunts midwives assisted the witch hunters, particularly in searching the bodies of the accused for ‘witch marks.’ In truth, anyone could be targeted, especially the poor, old, or anyone who roused their neighbours’ jealousies. Of course, there is some overlap; female healers in Ireland were often older women, widows or independent. Many of them also came from the Traveller community, who were known for their healing knowledge.^[7]

Nevertheless, the Irish Catholic clergy were often opposed to the traditions of the bean feasa, and the accusation of ‘witch’ was thrown around even if not legally used. The folklore collection known as the Schools Collection at duchas.ie has various entities of rural healers, often women, who were distrusted by the clergy, including one Moll Anthony from Limerick. Moll is described as both a ‘witch doctor’ (one who gave charms to protect against witches and baneful magic) and a herbal healer, but also of being in league with the devil and being distrusted by clergy – at least until she cured a sick horse belonging to the local parish priest. Moll gave out bottles of herbal potions and was often called upon to cure cattle. After her death, she was believed to have passed her remedies down to her sons.

Folklore and the ‘cure’

The Schools Collection forms part of a large body of popular folklore collected by the Irish Folklore Commission in the 1930s. Unlike some of the accounts published by the Celtic Revivalists, these collections were recorded directly from reports from the Irish folk without distortion, particularly in rural areas, and are invaluable for those looking to better understand the folkloric tradition from the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.

Folk healing makes up a large portion of the entries, with thousands of references to ‘cures’ The notion of the ‘cure’ is a long held one and refers to specific folk treatments for certain remedies. Cures were often passed down through families, and while some may be held by healers and witch doctors, often the person practicing the cure did not otherwise practice healing. Cures were closely guarded, passed down to one person, and often it was considered wrong to accept payment in coin for them, although donations of food, clothes and services were usually gratefully accepted.

The folkloric record shows that less than half of these cures were herbal; many relied wholly upon faith healing, charms and/or the laying on of hands. Where herbs were used, a charm or prayer often came with the poultice or potion. As with Airmid at the Well of Slane, the line between medicine and ‘magic’ was often blurred. In the Schools Collection we can find varied and differing beliefs and opinions on this. Many entries state that belief was necessary for a faith

cure or charm to work, showing an understanding of the existence of the placebo effect, even if not by name. Some entries, such as one recorded from a teacher in County Laois, state that the herbal cures were more likely to be effective as a cure,whereas others put great stock in prayers. Holy wells also feature prominently in entries concerning healing.

Various simple plant remedies are also recorded, such as boiled moss for the flu and the eating of a boiled dandelion for consumption. Saint Patrick’s Leaf is recommended for sores, watercress for heart trouble and mountain sage for a cough. Some of the remedies are familiar to us today and have been proven to have some utility, such as dock leaves for a nettle sting, onions for a sore throat, and eating garlic to prevent colds. Other remedies are less familiar and by modern standards may seem bizarre, such as stinging yourself all over with a nettle to cure rheumatism (perhaps due to the endorphin effect bringing temporary pain relief, or one pain simply serving as a distraction from the original?) There are also accounts of a traditional remedy for whooping cough of being swung between an asses legs, gut ache being caused by lizards in the stomach, and earthworms being placed in the hand of a newborn child to prevent eye problems.

While some of these cures may seem strange to us, they come from a time before modern medicine was both accessible and mostly effective. It was also a time when there was no way of accurately testing which cures worked due to active ingredients in plants or spring water, or due to a placebo effect. If something was seen to work more often than not, it would have been kept and passed down as a remedy.

Although the tradition of the cure has declined, it is still in use across Ireland, especially in rural areas. It also persists in Traveller communities, both in Ireland and in the Irish diaspora, especially among nomadic communities. As with the folklore record, the cures are a mixture of herbal remedies, prayers and charms, and visits to holy wells. Cecily Gilligan, who interviewed healers with cures across Ireland over a period of fifteen years up to the present day, found that only around twenty per cent of the cures she was told about relied on herbs. Faith cures seem to be much more common, which Gilligan believes is a result of their filling the gap which has been left due to much of Ireland’s herbal knowledge being lost, including during and since the awful days of the Potato Famine, or the Gorta Mor (Great Hunger.)

The herbal remedies are sometimes believed to be the most effective, as Gilligan states:

A small number of my interviewees felt that faith in their cure was not necessary for it to be effective. The majority of these people had herbal cures, like the man…who told me that because his cure was primarily made from herbs, people did not have to believe in it to work. (p191)

However, she goes on to say;

A number of those with herbal preparations believed that the key to the cure was the plants they used; but the most common response was God. (p195)

As in the 1930s, many of the modern folk with cures would not take monetary payment for them; providing the cure is seen as not so much a business or occupation but a sacred responsibility that comes with being told the cure. As Gilligan says, in a passage which moved me tremendously:

Each person and each cure is part of a bigger picture, a healing tradition which goes back hundreds, probably thousands of years,… they live on because they are meeting a human need, more than a physical need, a psychological and spiritual need too, and healing and good health incorporate these three elements…The cures are part of this wider, more holistic approach to healing, and they have the strength of being deeply rooted in traditional culture.(p276)

This, for me, is part of what Airmid represents. In the next chapter, we will turn to the herbs that are specifically linked to her in de Bhairduin’s version of her story, and their place in magic and folklore. I will also share a few family recipes.

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^[1] Binchy, D. A., “Bretha Déin Chécht”, Ériu 20 (1966): 1–66.
^[2] Binchy, D.A. Bretha Crolige (trans 1938) Eriu 12:1-77
^[3] Kingston, Rosarie Ireland’s Hidden Medicine (2021) Aeon Books
^[4]Rainsford John, “Feakle’s Biddy Early A Victim of Moral Panic?”, (2012) History of Ireland, Vol. 20, No.1,
^[5] Hutton, Ronald, The Witch; A History of Fear (2017) Yale University Press
^[6] Jenkins, Richard, “The Transformations of Biddy Early from Local Reports of Magical Healing to Globalised New Aged Fantasies”, (2007) Folklore Vol. 118, No.2.
^[7] Schmitz, Nancy “An Irish Wise Woman: Fact and Legend” Journal of the Folklore Institute (1977) Vol 14 Indiana University Press

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