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Mad Mandrake


And shrieks like mandrakes torn out of the earth, That living mortals, hearing them, run mad. . .
Romeo and Juliet iv, iii

The idea that mandrake would scream when uprooted, causing insanity or death to those hearing it, is only one of the strange superstitions ascribed to this herb. But some people believed the fable to the extent that they tried to teach dogs to harvest the roots for them! "There hath beene many ridiculous tales brought up of this plant," sixteenth-century herbalist John Gerard wrote scornfully, "whether of old wives or some runnagate Surgeons and Physicke-mongers, I know not."

Most of those tales arose from the forked root's supposed resemblance to a human figure. "Whereas in truth," Gerard points out, "It is no otherwise than in the roots of carrots, parsneps, and such like. . ."

Still, mandragora, which actually means "hurtful to cattle," also acquired the sinister title of Satan's Apple. It may have earned that nickname because it belongs to the "shady" nightshade family. In small doses, it is a narcotic, and was once used as a sedative and pain-reliever. In Othello, Iago predicts that, "Not poppy nor mandragora,/ Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,/ Shall ever med'cine thee that that sweet sleep/ Which thou owedst yesterday."

In another of Shakespeare's plays, Cleopatra asks for mandragora, "that I might sleep out this great gap of time/ My Antony is away." And Coleridge wrote, "Into the land of dreams I long to go. Bid me forget! Mandragora."

Like most narcotics, however, the plant can also be poisonous-possibly causing delirium and madness before death. An old saying warns, "A small dose makes vain; a large dose makes an idiot."

Mandrake also rendered patients unconscious for surgery. Dioscorides wrote that it was given to "such as cannot sleep, or are grievously pained, and upon whom being cut or cauterized they make a not-feeling pain." It would cause the patient to be "sensible of nothing for three or four hours."

The herb treated depression and convulsions as well, and sedated the mad or demon-possessed. The leaves, boiled in milk, were applied as poultices. One writer claimed that mandrake "cures every infirmity-except only death where there is no help." But you definitely do not want to experiment with it at home, since its poison is believed to be similar to that of atropine (belladonna).

Another superstition which Gerard reports of mandrake is "that it is never or very seldome to be found growing naturally but under a gallowes, where the matter that hath fallen from the dead body hath given it the shape of a man." He rightly dismisses this belief as a "doltish dream."

The copyright of the article Mad Mandrake in Historical Plants is owned by Audrey Stallsmith. Permission to republish Mad Mandrake in print or online must be granted by the author in writing.

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