Syphilitic Miasm
_Since the day he laid
eyes on Psora, walking though the church graveyard, picking flowers and
berries as she went, he became infatuated with her. He looked for her regularly, seeing her, even from a distance, made his day. She never attended church services on a Sunday, a fact that both angered and intrigued him. He knew she was a healer and the herbalist who was discretely recommended to him by the last doctor to attend his sick father. He himself went to her home eager to exchange his imagination for reality. The
first time he went Psora was not there, and filled with excitement and
trepidation he took the unusual liberty of letting himself in. The house
smelt of brewed herbs, a rich earthy smell. The small wooden table was spaceless as bundles of dried herbs and earthen ware jars filled its convenience. He
dipped his finger and thumb into the mortar and pinched then smelt the
crushed seeds. The priest walked over to her bed in the corner of the
room and trailed his hand over the cotton patchwork quilt. He lifted the hand embroidered pillow, and held it against his nose, eager to know her smell. A sweetness seduced his nerves. Fixated
on his surroundings Syphilis the priest spent more time than was
necessary scrutinizing the humble abode before he finally left. The
next time he went to her house, Psora was there, she opened the door to
his knock, face to face she immediately became flustered. The priest smirked to himself, for he knew she was aware of his power. He
explained the situation regarding his father’s lengthy illness he
requested her help, hesitantly, she agreed to see his father. The
next day the priest came for her in his carriage and thereafter, he
came once a week. Over the months she relaxed slightly with him. She began to read his moods and recognized without doubt that the priest was in love with her. In the course of their endless conversations, only once did she contradicthim which immediately aggravated him. She
explained that the so-called witch healers were often the only general
medical practitioners for a people who had no doctors and no hospitals,
and who were bitterly afflicted with poverty and disease. Immediately, his aggravation surfaced and he angrily stated “No one does more harm to the Catholic Church than midwives.” It was only then that she realised how rigid his ideas were with himself and the given situation. And sadly deduced the he was not amenable to change and she realized that the power of the peasant women, whether for good or evil was frightening to the Church and State. His
voice grew louder as he stated “The greater their satanic powers to
help themselves, the less they are dependent on God and the Church and
the more they are potentially able to use their powers against God’s
order”. The priest’s violence frightened her; it was impulsive.
Syphilis Materia Medica
Syphilis Materia Medica