Natural History, Vol. 3

moreover. And antiquity was so astonished at these things that it affirmed things even incredible to relate. Xanthus, an author of histories, in his first book, handed down that a dragon’s whelp was recalled to life by its parent with an herb which he calls balin; and that by the same herb, Thylon, whom the dragon had killed, was restored to health. And Juba records that a man in Arabia was recalled to life by an herb. Democritus said, and Theophrastus believed, that there is an herb by whose contact, applied by the bird we have mentioned, a wedge driven into a tree by shepherds would leap out. Even if these lack credibility, they nevertheless fill one with admiration, and force one to confess that there is much that surpasses the truth. Hence, I see that many think there is nothing that cannot be accomplished by the force of herbs, but that the powers of very many are unknown. Among whose number was Herophilus, illustrious in medicine, by whom they say it was said that perhaps some herbs trampled underfoot might also be beneficial.

It has certainly been observed that wounds and diseases are inflamed by the arrival of those who have completed a journey on foot. This was the ancient medicine, which migrated entirely into the languages of Greece. But the reason why more are not known is because they are experienced by rustics and those ignorant of letters, as they are the only ones who live among them; furthermore, the security of searching is hindered by the crowd of doctors at hand. Many discoveries also lack names, just like that one we mentioned in the care of crops, and we know that if it is buried in the corners of the field, it ensures that no bird enters. A most shameful cause of their rarity is that even those who know them do not wish to demonstrate them, as if what they have handed down to others would perish for themselves. There is added a doubtful reason for discovery. For indeed, even among those that are found, some are discovered by chance, others (if I may speak truly) by a god. The bite of a mad dog, bringing with it a fear of water and a hatred of all drink, has been incurable up to these years. Recently, the mother of a soldier serving in the praetorium saw in a dream that she should send to her son to be drunk the root of a wild rose, which they call cynorrhodon, which she had admired the day before for its appearance in a thicket. The event was taking place in Lacetania, a part of Spain nearby; and it happened by chance that as the soldier was beginning to fear water from the dog’s bite, the letter arrived from her praying that he should obey the religious sign; and he was saved beyond expectation, and afterwards, anyone who tried similar help was [cured]. Formerly, among authors, the only remedy of the cynorrhodon was the sponge-like growth which is born in the middle of its thorns, to be used with ash and honey to fill in the bald spots of the head. In the same province, I became acquainted in the field of a host with a stalk recently found there, called dracunculus, of the thickness of a thumb, with the multicolored spots of vipers, which they claimed was a remedy against all bites. It is different from those of the same name which we mentioned in the previous volume, but this one has a different shape, and another miracle of the earth exerting itself at the first sloughing of the serpents to a height of nearly two feet, and again burying itself in the earth with them: nor does the serpent appear without that being hidden, or even this by itself is a sufficiently dutiful gift of nature, if it only warned and demonstrated the time of fear.