A Full Discourse on the Virtues, History, and Employment of Lavandula angustifolia

If the Chamomile is the humble sun-gazer of the field, then Lavender is the aristocratic sovereign of the stillroom. While the former whispers comfort to the belly, the latter speaks with clarion clarity to the very seat of the soul—the Brain and the Nerves.

I speak not of the wild, ragged Lavender that straggles upon the heath, but of the true English Lavender (Lavandula angustifolia)—that shrub whose slender stalks bear a spike of blossoms the exact colour of a summer thundercloud at twilight: a deep, dusty azure. Its scent is a paradox; at once it is the sweet balm of honey and the sharp, purifying sting of camphor. It clears the fog from the chambers of the mind and chases the moth from the linen chest.

I set forth here an account of its composition, its ancient lineage, and the proper methods by which a prudent household may employ it.

Of Its Origins and Where It Grows

The Lavender despises the wet, heavy foot of clay. It craves the poor, stony ground of the Mediterranean hilltop. It is a child of the sun, first cultivated in great abundance by the civilisations of Arabia, Greece, and the Roman Empire. Its very name betrays its history; derived from the Latin lavare, "to wash."

The Romans, who understood luxury as well as they understood engineering, cast handfuls of this purple treasure into their public baths and the water used to rinse their fine woollen stoles. They knew that where Lavender touched, disease and stench could not follow.

Today, one finds it in the great purple oceans of the Provençal landscape in France, and in the well-drained, chalky gardens of the English manor. But mark me: the finest oil does not come from the easy valley floor; it comes from the high, windswept altitude where the plant struggles for life. In that struggle, it concentrates its spirit into a potency that is a gift to mankind.

The Invisible Virtue: A Chemical Exposition

The modern chemists, with their glass retorts and fiery furnaces, have unlocked the secret of Lavender's sovereignty. It resides in a volatile Essential Oil composed of over one hundred distinct spirits, but we shall concern ourselves with the two great pillars: Linalool and Linalyl Acetate.

Linalool is the cooling hand upon the fevered brow. It is this element, when inhaled as a vapour, that calms the racing pulse of a hysteric patient or the palpitations of a maiden suffering from an excess of Vapours. It speaks directly to the animal spirits, soothing the wild beast within us.

Linalyl Acetate is the gentler sibling; it is the sweet, fruity note that lulls the babe to slumber. Together, they form a chemical armour. Studies in my own practice have shown that the odour of Lavender oil placed upon a pillow will, with greater certainty than any opiate, summon the angel of sleep without the subsequent torpor and heaviness of the head.

On Its Virtues: A Catalogue of Remedial Uses

I have distilled this herb, infused it, and burned it as incense for nigh on three decades. Its uses are manifold.

1. For the Melancholic and the Anxious Mind (The Cerebral Tonic):

There is no disorder so cruel as Melancholia. For the gentleman who finds the world grey and his thoughts a torment, a bath infused with a strong decoction of Lavender flowers, or the application of the oil to the temples and wrists, acts as a "broom to the cobwebs of the brain." It lifts the oppression of the spirits and restores a measure of calm fortitude.

2. For the Aching Head (The Cephalic Remedy):

For the megrim, or the sick headache that comes from too much poring over ledgers by candlelight, there is no better remedy than a compress of cold Lavender water upon the forehead and a cup of Lavender tea sweetened with a touch of honey. It diverts the flow of too-violent blood from the temple.

3. For Wounds, Burns, and the Itch (The Surgeon's Friend):

Long before the invention of Carbolic Acid, the wise surgeon knew to wash his instruments and dress his wounds with the oil of Spike Lavender. It resists the putrefaction of the flesh. For a minor scald from the kitchen hearth, the neat oil dropped upon the burn will quench the fire, prevent the rising of a blister, and hasten the knitting of new skin. For the vexing bite of the midge or the flea, a touch of the oil ends the torment instantly.

4. For the Promotion of Sleep and Purification of Air (The Domestic Protector):

During the times of Plague and putrid fever, the physicians of Europe walked the streets with masks stuffed full of Lavender and Rosemary. We now know this was not mere superstition; the vapour disrupts the foul airs. Sprinkle a few drops upon your pillow, or hang a muslin bag of the flowers upon your bedpost, and you shall find your slumber deeper and your chamber fresher.

The Proper Employment: Receipts from the Apothecary's Log

Do not misuse this precious herb. The spirit of Lavender is strong; a little suffices.

The Soothing Infusion (Tea): This is a remedy for the nerves, not the palate.

Take three fresh flower heads or one half-teaspoon of dried buds. Pour water that is just off the boil (too hot and the tea becomes bitter as gall). Cover and steep for precisely five minutes—no longer, lest the bitter principles of the stalk overwhelm the sweet flowers. Drink this only when you feel the world pressing too hard upon your chest.

The Lavender Posy (Nosegay): Carry a small sprig wrapped in a handkerchief. When entering a crowd, a coach, or a sickroom, raise it to your nose and inhale. It is a shield against the contagious effluvia of others.

The Restorative Vinegar (Four Thieves' Vinegar): Steep Lavender, Rosemary, Sage, and Mint in strong wine vinegar for a fortnight. Strain. A cloth soaked in this and applied to the wrists and neck will cool a fever and revive the most fainting lady.

Hidden Stories: The Arcana of the Azure Blossom

Now, let us set aside the mortar and pestle and speak of the soul of this plant, for Lavender has long been entangled with the supernatural and the sacred.

The Serpent and the Cross:

There is a beautiful legend from the Holy Land. It is said that when Adam and Eve were cast forth from the Garden of Eden, they carried with them only two things: a sprig of Rosemary for remembrance, and a sprig of **Lavender for comfort of the soul**. But the more potent tale concerns the stable in Bethlehem. When the Virgin Mary laid the garments of the Infant Jesus upon a bush of grey leaves to dry, the plant absorbed the holiness of the Saviour's swaddling clothes and, in gratitude, burst forth into a permanent bloom of celestial blue and a scent of paradise. For this reason, in the language of flowers, Lavender speaks of devotion and silence.

The Queen of Hungary's Elixir:

I must record a tale of remarkable rejuvenation. In the 14th century, the Queen of Hungary, Elizabeth, was said to be aged, infirm, and riddled with gout. A hermit (or some say an alchemist) gave her a receipt for a water distilled from Lavender, Rosemary, and Lemon Balm steeped in spirits of wine. She used this "Hungary Water" daily to bathe her limbs and face. So powerful was this Lavender concoction that the Queen was restored to such radiant beauty and vigour that the young King of Poland asked for her hand in marriage—she being seventy-two years of age! While I suspect a measure of courtly flattery in this account, I cannot deny the restorative power of this receipt upon the complexion of my own aging wife.

The Cleopatra's Ruse:

Even the great seductresses knew its power. It is whispered in certain papyri that Cleopatra, whose beauty conquered Caesar and Marc Antony, did not rely solely on milk baths. Her secret weapon was the scent of Lavender. She ordered the sails of her royal barge to be soaked in Lavender oil so that the wind would carry the announcement of her arrival—and her desire—miles before her ship was sighted. It was a perfume of power, a promise of calm and intoxication mingled together.

A Final Admonition:

Beware of the cheap, thin oil sold by travelling pedlars that smells sharp and causes the head to ache. That is Lavandin, a coarse hybrid grown for quantity, not for medicine. True Lavender oil is sweet, herbaceous, and costly—for it takes a great mound of flowers to yield but a small vial of heaven's own breath.