When that proud Menacrates, “Zeus,” wrote an arrogant letter to Philip of Macedon, Philip sent back only this reply: “I advise you to go to Anticyra.” He meant that Menacrates was out of his mind “and needed hellebore”: he badly needed a good purge. Lilius Giraldus says that Hercules, after all his mad assaults upon his wife and children, was completely cured by a purge of hellebore administered by a man of Anticyra.

People of sound mind commonly took it to sharpen their wits—as Ennius did long ago, “who never sprang to sing of arms unless he had been drinking,” and as our poets drink sack to improve their invention. I find it so recorded by Aulus Gellius, book 17, chapter 15. Carneades the Academic, when preparing to write against Zeno the Stoic, first purged himself with hellebore; Petronius attributes this to Chrysippus.

It remained highly esteemed for many ages, until Mesue and some other Arabian writers began to reject and condemn it. On their authority, for many succeeding periods of years it was hotly disputed and fell entirely out of favour, being regarded as poison rather than medicine. Crato and some more recent physicians still oppose it today.

Their reasons are that Aristotle, On Plants, book 1, chapter 3, called henbane and hellebore poisons; and Alexander of Aphrodisias, in the preface to his Problems, said, speaking of hellebore, that “quails feed on what is poisonous to men.” Galen, Epidemics, book 6, commentary 5, text 35, confirms this. Emperor Constantine, in his Geoponics, attributes no other virtue to it than killing mice, rats, flies and moles; Mizaldus does the same. Nicander in antiquity, and Gervinus, Skenkius and other recent writers on poisons, give hellebore a prominent place.

Nicholas Leonicus tells a story of Solon who, while besieging I do not know what city, steeped hellebore in a spring whose water was piped into the town’s centre. In this way he either poisoned the inhabitants or weakened them so much through purging that they could no longer bear arms.

Despite all these cavils and objections, most recent writers strongly approve of it: Gariopontus, book 1, chapter 13; Codronchus’ Commentary on Hellebore; Fallopius, On Simple Purgative Medicines, chapter 69; Trincavelli, consultation 15; Montanus, 239; Frisemelica, consultation 14; and Hercules de Saxonia, provided it is given at the right time. Jacobus de Dondis, Aggregator; Amatus Lusitanus, century 66; Godefridus Stegius, chapter 13; Hollerius and all our herbalists concur.

Fernel, Method of Medicine, book 5, chapter 16, admits that it is “a terrible purge and difficult to take, yet suitable for strong men with robust bodies.” Pieter van Foreest and Capivaccius forbid taking the substance itself but permit a decoction or infusion, the two methods P. Monavius prefers above all others in letter 231 in Scholtz. Jacchinus, commenting on the ninth book of Rhazes, recommends a recipe of his own; Penottus another, chemically prepared; and Evonymus another.

Hildesheim, Gleanings, book 2, On Melancholy, gives many examples of its use and a variety of recipes. Heurnius, Medical Practice, book 7, chapter 14, calls it “a harmless medicine, after all, if properly prepared.” Only its root is used, and that may be kept for many years. Some administer the substance itself, among them Fallopius and Brasavola, who boasts that he was the first to restore its use.

He tells how, at the Duke of Ferrara’s court, he cured a madman named Melatasta, thought to be possessed, with a single purge of black hellebore given as the substance itself. The recipe can be found there; the man’s excrement was like ink, and “he recovered completely at once.”

Vidus Vidius, a Dutch physician, refuses to allow the substance itself, and most agree with him. Instead, as before, he permits a decoction or infusion, or, best of all, an extract, which he prefers to the rest and calls “a pleasant medicine”: a sweet, mild medicine that may safely be given to women, children and weak people. Baracellus, in his Delightful Garden, calls it “a medicine of the highest excellence”: a medicine of great worth and distinction. Quercetan, in his Spagyric Pharmacopoeia, and many others tell wonders of the extract.

Above all the others, Paracelsus is this plant’s greatest admirer, especially of its extract. He calls it “theriac, earthly balm”: another theriac, a balm of the earth, “worth all the rest,” everything in one; “the sole and final refuge for curing this disease, gout, epilepsy, leprosy and so on.” If this will not help, no medicine in the world can, except a mineral one: it is the last resort.

Mattioli laughs at those who object to it. Although some reject it on Mesue’s authority and dare not venture to prescribe it, “I,” he says, “have used it successfully six hundred times without harm, and shared it with several worthy physicians, who have thanked me warmly for it.” For recipes, dosage, preparation and other cautions concerning this single substance, consult him, Brasavola, Baracellus, Codronchus and the others.