A Mandrake Shrieks

It is one of the most striking of catalogues, beautifully printed on off-white paper with lovely illustrations in black and white…

It is one of the most striking of catalogues, beautifully printed on off-white paper with lovely illustrations in black and white of plants, some notably comic such as "The distressing effects of eating too many figs", with the distressed figure sitting under the tree which is the source of the misery, vomiting copiously. This from the 16th century.

It is all from the catalogue "Leaves from the Past: Marsh's Botanical Books" - this being an exhibition compiled by Mary McCarthy and Caroline Sherwood-Smith now being held at Archbishop Marsh's library, just behind St Patrick's Cathedral, Dublin or, more correctly, in St Patrick's Close. There are some very valuable and appealing herbal books - spectacular, the exhibitors say, going back to names that even the mildly interested will be familiar with - Linnaeus, Gerard. The catalogue can only give an idea of what the actual books with their woodcuts, copper plates and engravings of the various plants make brilliantly clear. Did you know that the most significant kitchen garden in the world was created for Louis XIV of France? Not all serious, these garden architects; there are some trick fountains illustrated, which sprayed passers by as they came close. All those centuries ago. Then there is the mandrake plant which is believed (was believed?) to have shrieked when plucked. As Shakespeare's Juliet said: "And shrieks the mandrake torn out of the earth/ That living mortals, hearing them, run mad."

You couldn't resist the persuasion of this lovely catalogue. Archbishop Marsh's library, built in 1701, is open Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday from 10 to 12.45 and 2 to 5; Saturday 10.3012.45. Closed Tuesday and Sunday. Worth a visit? There should be queues.

John Gerard, who is represented in this exhibition, had first produced his Herball in 1597. In it he mentions the foxglove, gives it the name from the "floures" which he likens to "finger stalks". Whereof it took its name Digitalis, but he concludes: "yet are they of no use, neither have they any place amongst medicines, according to the Antients." We know better now. Several people have been on the phone or have written letters on recent mentions here of the plant. For another day.