The Evil Eye
Belladonna is the most problematic herb on the Poison Path that is part of the witch's way. Even though datura (thornapple) can be quite brutal, that brutality is more or less expected—it does not arise out of meanness as much as out of the plant spirit's ignorance of its own strength and the flimsiness of mortals. The same cannot be said of belladonna.
Belladonna's brutality feels more like pure malice. For that reason, I associate this plant with the Evil Eye and with the malefic works of witchcraft that can indeed sometimes—without any help from a rede or karma or anything else—come back to bite witches just because they're there.
One way that poisonous plants warn us not to eat them is by producing substances that we interpret as very bitter. We have co-evolved with this indicator; if something tastes extremely bitter, we usually spit it out. Although some people—like me!—relish a certain amount of bitterness, like that of radicchio or endive, for instance, many others don't consider bitter things to be tasty or even edible.
In the past, Europeans often ate bitter herbs in the spring as a kind of tonic. I think that, as this practice has fallen away—in keeping with the fact that few of us now have kitchen gardens where those bitter herbs appear in early spring—we have gotten farther from our ability to tolerate alkaloids, which typically taste bitter. Perhaps one reason why we could consume or use very poisonous plants like monkshood or poison hemlock in the past is that we had a much greater tolerance for alkaloids. As we became more urbanized, we gradually lost that tolerance, much as a person who is constantly protected from allergens has a very intense allergic reaction when exposed to even small amounts of them. If our ancestors were regularly ingesting small amounts of alkaloids, they would have been able to tolerate larger amounts than we ever could today.
Belladonna is the exception, however. Even though this plant has played a role in pharmacy virtually wherever it occurs, it has never had the place of its sister, henbane. For one thing, belladonna has a lot higher alkaloid content than henbane does. But in my opinion, the more important reason is that belladonna is highly unpredictable in a way that the other Weird Sisters (henbane, datura, and mandrake) are not. Material harvested from the same belladonna plant and consumed in the same quantity by the same person cannot be depended upon to act in the same way. It is precisely this unpredictability that has kept belladonna from having a greater role in pharmacy.
But what about belladonna's role in witchcraft? Over and over, we see belladonna being prized in witchcraft. Perhaps it is precisely its unpredictability that has made it so attractive to witches. And yet, most practitioners probably aren't even aware of that aspect of this herb, especially today.
One possibility is that, as with so many other plants that are popularly associated with witches, this is just a manifestation of popular culture's historical idea of witches and witchcraft—a characterization that witches have in turn picked up and held close as some kind of fact, although perhaps a false one. We can find a parallel in how, having seen made-up depictions in movies of how the Mafia supposedly had some kind of blood rite to mark the acceptance of an individual into organized crime, the real Mafia actually began to perform this blood rite, and even claimed that they had always done so. They recognized it as having come down from ancient times, rather than from the imagination of a screenwriter. In the same way, if witches are paired with plants and animals considered obnoxious by the general populace, they may come to hold those obnoxious plants and animals dear and prize them as witchy when, in fact, they are not.
This is also seen in names that pair the devil with various nasty things. And, of course, European witches also came to be associated with the devil. Perhaps the connection between belladonna and witchcraft derives originally from outside the Craft and is not in any way indicative of any fundamental truths about it. Perhaps its spirit does not offer any insight to a witch that cannot be obtained in better ways and in greater quantity from another plant spirit.
I think, however, that the connection between belladonna and witchcraft is a valid one. What that means for us, however, is not obvious. In fact, I think a large part of the importance of belladonna in witchcraft is completely occult or hidden. Let's examine it closely, beginning with the basic structure of its stalk.
Each belladonna branch shoots to the opposite side of the stalk from the previous branch in a pattern that, in the plant world, is called “alternating.” At the end of each branch, the plant produces buds that become flowers that will become fruits. Each branch is fruitful. The main stalk, however, is interesting because, unlike a lot of plants that just grow a straight stalk from which the branches emerge, belladonna's stalk bends back and forth. In other words, it is crooked, and very symmetrically crooked, so that neither side is favored. Both sides have the same number of flowers and fruits. In the context of witchcraft, this recalls the Crooked Path.
When viewed from above, the belladonna plant sends out branches in five equidistant directions. This shape is very striking, but we have to look at the plant from above to see it. The very same five-pointed star or pentagram shape is made by the calyx around the berry. Belladonna calyces start out with their five fingers cupping the flower. They gradually fatten, toughen, and pull back into a star shape holding the fruit, gaining a blood-colored speckling in the process. The ripe fruit detaches itself from the calyx and falls to the ground, but the starry calyces remain on the plant. The flower also has five scallops at the end. Five is a fairly common number for petals—the mandrake flower has five petals—but not that many plants send their branches out in five directions.
Another way to look at the strong connection between belladonna and witchcraft is to consider that belladonna represents malice or the Evil Eye. Belladonna berries are notable for how shiny they are. Lots of other black berries have a more satiny shine or dull gleam, but belladonna berries seem unique in their shiny blackness. It is precisely this shine that attracts children and even adults and entices them into eating the poisonous fruit.
There is another eye connection with belladonna. An old story without a scrap of evidence to support it tells how young ladies in Italy once used belladonna to dilate their eyes, which was perceived as making them more beautiful. This story, whether apocryphal or not, does connect with how seductive belladonna berries can be.
Perhaps it was not Italian ladies who dolled up their eyes in this way, but belladonna itself, tempting us with the shiny black eyes of its berries. In yet another example of how we cannot watch animals to determine whether a plant is safe to consume, these berries are heartily eaten by chipmunks without the slightest problem. People who have eaten them and lived to tell about it report that they actually taste somewhat sweet—in other words, they are not bitter, as one would expect from a poisonous, alkaloid-heavy fruit. It is as if belladonna tempts us with its berries, cajoling us to eat them, in order to then wreak havoc on our bodies. This plant just does not play fair. Its attractive berries aren't even bitter like the high-alkaloid products of other plants, which would make us spit them out.
Likewise, the eerily attractive flowers of belladonna actually have a slightly sweet smell, as opposed to those of henbane, which do not smell good at all. Yet a big whiff of the scent of belladonna's flowers can cause an instant headache. Talk about tricksy!
I think this tricksiness is a key quality of this plant and is fundamental to why belladonna is legitimately considered a part of witchcraft. Belladonna's unpredictability is like a curse that comes at you from out of nowhere. It falls out of the sky like a hex. Of course, in order to accept that idea, we first have to admit that cursing has always been a part of witchcraft.
Witches are frequently viewed by their neighbors as being scarily ambiguous. They can use their powers to help you find your lost cloak, but they can also dry up your cow's milk. This ambiguity is part of the Crooked Path that witches typically walk. The ambiguity that folks feel about witches is reflected in how we feel about belladonna. It can be a painkiller, or it can kill you—and in a way that makes an overdose of poppy look like a fun time. Belladonna, like datura, is notorious for the horrific nature of the hallucinations it causes when it is ingested in large amounts.
What do these physical characteristics tell us about the nature of the spirit belladonna represents? That it does not respect the contract that most plants make with us humans. Its sweet berries and sweet flowers don't indicate a friend; they mask danger. Belladonna can be depended on only to be unpredictable and to trick us into believing that it is not harmful.
In some ways, this resembles how many people perceive witches. We are often thought to be tricksy, because we can heal or hex, help or curse. I think belladonna represents something extremely complex about the nature of witches—something that many witches recognize, if only on a subconscious level. We find ourselves attracted to belladonna without really knowing why.
Think about it. How many witchy formulae involve belladonna? Not many. It's rare, even in flying ointments. Yet belladonna lingers in the witch's world, enticing us with its gleaming berries, shining with the blackness of the depths. It feels as if the plant is holding a lot of knowledge in those depths, if only we could get to it.
Belladonna has several fundamental qualities for witchcraft: unpredictability, ambiguity, tricksiness, and as an indicator of the Crooked Path. These qualities can be funneled into the concept of malice, an essential characteristic of Belladonna Spirit. We can respect something that is dangerous, like a tiger, and simultaneously realize that tigers don't eat human beings out of any malice. They may just happen to be hungry when a human is available. We know there are dangers in our world, and we accept them. Generally, however, those dangers find ways to warn us off—with garish patterns, spines, bad smells, or bitter tastes.
However, belladonna exempts itself from warning and steps into the space of deliberately messing with us, betraying an intelligence that materialists like to deny to the plant world. Like the witch in Hansel and Gretel who entices the children with her gingerbread house—because why else did she create it except as a trap?—and then shoves them into the oven, belladonna entices us with its luscious berries and then shoves us into the hell of its ferocious hallucinations. It can kill you, but even that's not dependable—today, three berries will kill you; tomorrow, it may take fifteen. That sounds like malice to me—which, in some societies, is the very definition of witchcraft.
I once created an image of the spirit Samael, the consort of Lilith, in the scheme of the klippot (husks or shells that contain a spark of the divine). Samael serves as an entryway to the Other Side; he is the Malkuth (Foundation, material manifestation) of the Klippotic Tree, the dark duplicate of the Kabbalistic Tree of Life. Samael appears as the snake in the Hebrew Bible's story of Adam and Eve; he is described as having many eyes. While drawing this image, I was struck, not only by how the berries of belladonna resemble the many eyes of Samael but also by how its crooked stalk is like the Crooked Path, like the shape of the Klippotic Tree. I also felt that the luscious but poisonous belladonna berry was a match for the eyes of Samael. Not only is Samael the snake in the garden; the tree from which he slithers is the Witch's Tree.
You could say that the tricksiness of belladonna is like the tricksiness of cursing. A curse may not have any effect on karma, or the Law of Three-fold Return, or any other accoutrements of the Just World Fallacy—the belief that, if you behave in an ethical way, you will never come to harm; that bad is eventually punished and good eventually rewarded. In fact, if this were true, we would not need magic. But it may also indicate that, when cursing, you should keep a sharp eye out for back-splatter.
When hexing, you must be exceedingly cautious. When someone approaches a witch in search of a curse, the witch hears only that person's side of the story, which may not always reflect the reality of the situation. The witch may read the story against the grain, so to speak, accounting for what may not have been said. But belladonna reminds us that a situation may be completely different in essence from what is being represented to us—that a story of being oppressed and harassed may actually mask a story of oppressing and harassing someone else. Moreover, belladonna teaches that the curse may deliver what we expect (the innocuous-tasting berry) or be far more deadly (the potentially lethal level of alkaloids). You may think you are shooting a bullet, only to discover that you have launched a missile.
Belladonna, tricksy and malefic as it is, has something very fundamental to teach us or remind us: that ambiguity is the essential nature of the witch. What may appear as tricksiness or malice to others is, to a witch, simply the Crooked Path. But as witches, we live in this world, not the Other, and so must deal with the consequences of being ambiguous in a culture that craves certainty and imposes limits and delineations on everything and everyone.
Ambiguity is always going to fall outside the lines of our cultures, because ambiguity undercuts the sanctity of meaning. Without order, meaning cannot exist. If someone is helping, but also hexing, we cannot “depend” on them to do one thing or the other, as we generally do expect of other folks. That can have very hazardous consequences for a witch, which may manifest in something as minor as being snubbed in the grocery store by a neighbor, to being harassed by threatening phone calls, or being fired from a job, or losing custody of children. In some societies, a witch can even be killed.
The pull of witchcraft is strong—and rightly so. But the practice of witchcraft can be as dangerous as the gleam of a belladonna berry. It doesn't matter how many nice people appear on TV to talk about how witches just want to help people and worship friendly, happy nature gods. Many people don't believe that. And belladonna teaches us that they shouldn't—and that we should not forget that.
Here is a magical ink that can be crafted by infusing belladonna berries in vinegar.
The ink will darken upon drying. It will be dark purple or purplish blue, but will gradually fade to brown. This ink is perfect for writing curse petitions, hexing sigils, and, of course, a sigil for Belladonna Spirit itself. Use a nib pen or paint brush, as it will clog a fountain pen. This ink still contains alkaloids, so it is crucial to label it well and never to allow it to come into contact with your skin.
Whole belladonna berries are hard to dry—they turn sticky—but you can dry a small amount of the pulp left over from ink-making on a piece of baking parchment in a dehydrator. Incorporate the dried pulp into a very potent incense dedicated to attack magic or war by combining it with Mars herbs like tobacco, peppers, myrrh, and perhaps a bit of well-boiled honey (bees are Martial insects). Grind the other ingredients with a mortar and pestle, then add the pulp and honey, if you're using it. Like all incense, it will improve with age, becoming less harsh. This incense should always and only be burned outside.
Belladonna leaves are wonderful additions to incense for hexing, binding, or attack. A little goes a long way, however. Burn all incenses that contain belladonna outside.
Like the other Saturn plants mentioned in this book, belladonna's slow germination teaches us the worth of Saturnian slowness—that the reward that comes with delay can be much greater than that which comes immediately, as with an easily germinating annual. Belladonna seems to germinate more readily if the seeds are begun at the start of the waxing moon and after the Winter Solstice. Like some of its siblings, it seems to know that the days are getting longer. It is not that it will not germinate at all at other times of the year, but it does not germinate as readily.
Use the cold-water soaking method described for henbane seeds. Soak the seeds for two weeks in cold water in the fridge, changing the water daily. Then sow in typical planting medium, barely covering the seed. Like all the seeds discussed here, they don't like extreme heat—65°F (18°C) is a good temperature for them. Over half the seeds should germinate in two to four weeks once they are put in the soil. The rest of the seeds will eventually germinate, but it may take them a year or even two.
It is also possible to germinate belladonna seeds in a pot of soil that is left outside over the winter. Cover the pot loosely in plastic and keep it in full shade—no sun. Remember, this is a truly Saturnian plant that appreciates darkness.
Pot the seedlings once they have formed their true leaves. Then transplant them to a shaded area in the spring, once the danger of frost has passed. Belladonna likes soil that is “sweet”—that is, chalky or calcareous. You can add some gardening lime to your soil, grow the plants next to a concrete wall or cinder blocks, or top dress your pots with chick grit, as described for henbane. I've also found that belladonna very much appreciates a slow fertilizer like soymeal sprinkled over the bed right before or after the transplants are put in.
Since belladonna grows in open woodland in the wild, add plenty of organic matter to your soil. Composted leaves are great. The spot to which you transplant should not be dry, but it should not be sopping wet either. Belladonna dreams of the sun like an old vampire and will stretch toward its rays. But don't succumb to its begging to be moved to a sunny position. With anything more than just morning sun, belladonna will be injured and become pale and weak. Some think that the more sun belladonna is grown in, the more alkaloids it will make. That's true, but you will also have much less plant material. The plants will tend to be dried up, and I believe this fact accounts for the higher alkaloid content in specimens grown in sun. They are stressed.
Set your seedlings eighteen inches (45 cm) apart and make sure each plant has its own space. Be especially careful, as with other tropane-containing plants, not to grow it near nightshades that will be eaten or smoked, since its proximity will affect the alkaloid content of other plants. For instance, don't grow it near tomatoes, eggplant, or peppers. I have also found that it will sometimes kill plants grown near it, as it killed a rose bush I had growing in the same general area.
Belladonna can be grown in a good-sized pot and seems to really enjoy this, but don't try growing it inside. It won't be happy, and neither will you or your animals. This plant gives off chemicals that affect every living thing around it, either through allelopathy (destroying nearby plants through chemicals released into the soil) or through the volatilization of alkaloids from the leaves and flowers.
Belladonna is a perennial that spends the first year making leaves. If it's very happy, it may flower and fruit the first year. Generally speaking, however, the first year is reserved for establishing itself and absorbing energy rather than putting it out. The production of flowers and fruits requires a lot of energy. Young plants, however, often have larger leaves in general than plants that have gone through a winter. I've found that it's possible to get nice harvests of belladonna by growing it in pots and treating it like an annual. Top dressings of composted manure are very much appreciated.
The wonderful purplish-brown belladonna flowers that are beloved by witches have white stamens that look like little teeth. The flowers fall off when fertilized and berries form in their place. These begin as pale green and eventually become stained with purple. Then they plump and become a lustrous midnight purple.
Warning: It is when the berries are ripe that children are most attracted to this plant. Make sure to erect barriers around belladonna if children have free access to your yard. Impress upon them that the berries are not for eating, ever. Children have died from eating only a few, adults from eating a handful. All animals except a few rodents are susceptible to the toxins of the Weird Sisters and can be killed by them. Cats seem to ignore them because they smell bad. But dogs will eat anything, so always keep them away from any poisonous plants.
If you let belladonna berries ripen, you will get a lot of seeds to propagate more plants, or you can just start more plants from cuttings of the tips of the stems. If you want to save the seeds, do the same as you would for a tomato plant, but be sure to wear gloves. Crush the fruits (not too brutally) and put them in some water. The seeds will fall to the bottom of the container and the fruit pieces will rise. You can skim off the fruit parts and end up with some pretty clean seeds by repeating this. Then spread the seeds on a plate (I like to use a paper plate) to dry. No need to put them in the sun.
Where winters are not too harsh, belladonna will winter over and become a much larger plant the second year, coming back from the roots. It can get up to three feet (.9 m) high in its first year, if it's started early enough and if it's happy. In the second year, however, it can grow to almost six feet (1.8 m). In my experience, it doesn't usually get quite that big, because it is competing with tree roots. Even so, it is not a small plant.
In terms of the alkaloidal strength of this plant, consider how it generally uses alkaloids as a defense against being eaten. It makes the most alkaloids in the parts of the plant that are most vulnerable at any given point. So in the fall, when the plant knows it will be depending on its root alone to get it through the winter, the root has the highest concentration of alkaloids. In the spring, the new leaves will have the most. When the berries are forming, the whole plant will have the highest amount of alkaloids because it requires a lot of energy—that of the entire plant, roots and leaves—to produce fruits and seeds.
The lowest alkaloid content for belladonna occurs when the plant is just beginning to flower. Leaves that have been subject to bug predation or mechanical damage can have double the amount of alkaloids, although it's not clear whether this doubling occurs in the whole plant or just in the predated leaves. Some people deliberately grow belladonna on a southwest slope to encourage a high alkaloid level. I think most witches prefer to create a place for belladonna where it will be happy and less stressed.
In wet years or climates, slugs can be a real problem. They seem to love eating the Weird Sisters and will strip the bark off the older stalks, which can kill the plant. I have often wondered if slugs do not get some kind of enjoyment from eating nightshades. I wonder the same thing about the Colorado potato beetle, whose babies love to chomp the leaves down to nothing. See chapters 2 and 13 for remedies to these issues.
Don't ever dry belladonna in the house. It may not kill you, but it will give you and your animals the worst headaches and constipation you have ever experienced. Wear gloves when harvesting the plant and dry it outside in a dedicated baneful herb dehydrator on the lowest setting. The stalks tend to be thick, so cut them up with a pruner before you dry them. You can even cut them in half lengthwise to help drying.
Belladonna roots can be very large if they come from plants that are more than a year old. This can make them very problematic for drying, because they tend to dry on the outside but rot on the inside since the moisture can't escape. If you dry them in a dehydrator, use the lowest heat. This can take weeks. Remember—keep the dehydrator outside when you are drying belladonna. I have also simply left the roots outside in a sheltered location (in my case, under the patio roof) to dry by weathering over the winter. The best thing to do if you want belladonna roots is to harvest first-year roots only. Of course, you can always preserve any root in 95 percent alcohol and then use the alcohol itself as a belladonna ingredient for incenses and inks. Just make sure it is labeled.
Despite belladonna's tricksiness, or maybe because of it, I have grown it every single year and have admired its deadly beauty. I hardly use it in spellwork, but there is just nothing else like those purple-brown flowers and those shiny black berries.