A Profession Lost, But Not Forgotten
In the winding hills of Haute-Provence, herbalists still tend their gardens, dry their plants, and blend tisanes for local markets. They speak of thym, lavande, and sarriette with reverence. But they cannot call themselves herboristes, not legally.
Why? Because in 1941, during the Vichy regime, the French state quietly erased the official title. Since then, only pharmacists have had the right to advise on medicinal plants. A lineage stretching back centuries — from convent gardens to rural colporteurs and was abruptly broken. Yet in the fields and villages of Provence, the spirit of the herboriste persists. This is the story of that rupture and of the quiet, determined movement to reclaim what was lost.
A Brief History of the Herboriste Diploma
Until the early 20th century, herboristes held a recognised place in French society. They trained in botanical knowledge, passed rigorous exams, and were licensed to sell and recommend plant-based remedies. Their shops were often small, local, and closely tied to the rhythms of rural life.
But in 1941, under Marshal Pétain’s Vichy government, a decree abolished the diploma altogether. The justification? Public health and standardisation. In practice, it handed full control of medicinal plants to the pharmaceutical profession.
As Carole Brousse notes in her contribution to the ethnobotanical study of Haute-Provence, the move was more political than scientific:
“There was a will to monopolise plant advice. It erased popular knowledge, and especially feminine knowledge.”
Only those who had earned the diploma before 1941 could continue to call themselves herboristes. Over time, they passed away — and with them, official recognition of the craft.
What This Meant for Herbalism in Provence
In the decades that followed, herbalism didn’t disappear — but it was pushed to the margins. In Haute-Provence, women continued to grow, gather, and dry medicinal plants. They passed down recipes, hosted plant walks, and sold small-batch tisanes at markets.
But they had to walk a fine legal line. They could not prescribe. They could not make claims. Their teas were for bien-être (wellbeing), not maladie (illness). The knowledge remained — but the title was gone. Herborists in Provence today remain in a precarious position — respected by their communities, yet invisible to the law.
Paysannes-Herboristes: A Feminine Resistance
While the Vichy regime’s decree was bureaucratic, its cultural impact was gendered. The loss of the herboriste title disproportionately affected women — particularly those in rural and mountainous regions like Haute-Provence.
Many of the paysannes-herboristes interviewed in the ethnographic research are women who came to the trade through life experience: caring for family, tending gardens, learning from older neighbours. They work in polyculture, often combining herbs with market gardening, teaching, or hosting workshops.
Their resistance is not loud, but it is enduring. They grow lavender, thyme, savory. They harvest mallow and fennel. They dry carefully, blend respectfully, and sell at markets with quiet pride. They label everything cautiously, but with integrity.
The Revival Movement
In recent years, a growing number of herbalists, educators, and politicians have called for the reinstatement of the herborist diploma. Their arguments are cultural, ecological, and economic:
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To preserve traditional plant knowledge
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To legitimise a growing sector rooted in agroecology
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To offer consumers more trusted alternatives to pharmaceutical monoculture
Pilot schools have formed. Petitions have circulated. And in Haute-Provence, places like the Musée de Salagon and the Université Européenne des Senteurs et des Saveurs (UESS) have stepped up to offer serious herbal training — even if unofficial.
Still, no new diploma exists. Every few years, a bill reaches Parliament and stalls.
What This Means for Thé de Provence
As a boutique tea brand inspired by Provence, this history shapes what we do. We are not pharmacists. We do not claim to treat. But we take deep inspiration from the paysannes-herboristes who kept these traditions alive — often unpaid, unrecognised, and unlicensed. When you drink our teas, you taste more than flavour. You taste a quiet, ongoing resistance: a belief that nature still matters, and that knowledge does not need permission to be true.