“No doubt. But does not the fern bear a symbolical meaning?”
“In a general sense, it is emblematic of humility, evidently in allusion to its habit of growing as much as possible far from the high road, in the depths of woods. But by consulting the Treatise of St. Hildegarde we learn that the plant she calls Fern, or bracken, has magical properties.
“Just as sunshine disperses darkness, says the Abbess of Rupertsberg, the Fern puts nightmares to flight. The devil hates and flees from it, and thunder and hail rarely fall on spots where it takes shelter; also the man who wears it about him escapes witchcraft and spells.”
“Then St. Hildegarde made a study of natural history in its relations to medicine and magic?”
“Yes; but the book remains unknown because it has never yet been translated.
“She sometimes assigns very singular talismanic virtues to certain flowers. Would you like some instances?
“According to her, the plantain cures anyone who has eaten or drunk poison, and the pimpernel has the same virtue when hung round the neck. Myrrh must be warmed against the body till it is quite soft, and then it nullifies the wizard’s malignant arts, delivers the mind from phantoms, and is an antidote to philtres. It also puts to flight all lascivious dreaming, if worn on the breast or the stomach; only, as it eliminates every carnal suggestion it depresses the spirit and makes it ‘arid’; and for this reason, adds the saint, it should never be eaten but under great necessity.
“It is true that as a remedy against the dejection caused by myrrh we may apply the ‘hymelsloszel’ (Himmelschluessel), which is—or appears to be—Primula officinalis, the cowslip, whose bunches of fragrant yellow blossoms are to be seen in moist woods and meadows. This plant is ‘warm,’ and imbibes its qualities from the light. Hence it can drive away melancholy, which, says St. Hildegarde, spoils men’s good manners, making them utter speech contrary to God, on hearing which words the spirits of the air gather about him who has spoken them, and finally drive him mad.
“I may also tell you of the mandragora, a plant ‘warm and watery,’ that may symbolize the human being it resembles; and it is more susceptible than all other plants to the suggestion of the devil; but I would rather quote a recipe that you might perhaps think useful.
“Here is our Abbess’s prescription a propos to the iris or lily: Take the tip of the root, bruise it in rancid fat, heat this ointment and rub it on any who are afflicted with red or white leprosy, and they will soon be healed.
“But enough of these old-world recipes and counter-charms; we will study the symbolism of plants.
“Flowers in general are emblematic of what is good. According to Durand of Mende, both flowers and trees represent good works, of which the virtues are the roots; according to Honorius, the hermit, green herbs are for wisdom; those in flower are for progress; those in fruit are the perfect souls; finally, we are told by old treatises on symbolical theology that all plants embody the allegory of the Resurrection, while the idea of eternity attaches more particularly to the vine, the cedar and the palm.”