"In point of fact, the natural form which most frequently occurs in the capitals of our cathedral--by no means a remarkably flowery one--is the episcopal crozier as seen in the young shoots of the fern."
"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' (Himmelschlüssel), 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.