CELANDINE, TORMENTIL, BURNET, eyebright, pimpernel, rue, heart-trefoil and lovage genuflect to the command of Sol, even as lettuce, colewort, arrach, fluellein, loosestrife, pellitory and saxifrage subordinate their lives to Luna. So do bourage, chervil, hyssop and melilot and cinquefoil render obeisance to Jupiter. Bifoil and fumitory comfrey, mullein, woad and darnel relinquish themselves to Saturn. Beneficial partnerships frequently develop between heaven and earth—this is beyond dispute. Now whether the passion of an herb may resurrect the departed, we know not, nor if exaltation by the soul revivifies the body. If so, hermetic medicine exemplifies precepts betrothing science to magic. Might we be induced to live again? Who can say? We are sure only that familiar animals such as the bear renew themselves after prolonged sleep, while house-flies and wasps stupefied by frost grow nimble once they are warm, and aged hawthorns that for decades have languished will proliferate and bloom as though they were rejuvenated. Hence, the ponderable world represents a simulacrum, or palimpsest, of all that subsists invisibly—as with portraits the feature is not truly shown but takes up equivocal shape.
VERY LITTLE OUT of fiction does a prudent alchymist credit, but states honestly what he considers reliable and positive. Should he grow hesitant or feel uncertain of his diagnosis, then he abstains from counsel. But should he feel persuaded he will abjure equivocation by publishing and disseminating whatever he has learned, thereby reflecting honor on himself in accordance with the compassionate majesties of his craft. So it is incumbent that every doctor proceed on experiments with their contingencies. Suppose one neglected to appraise the ebb or flow of macrocosm, how would a physician estimate the frequency of feminine menorrhagia? How could he predict the course of bloody flux if he failed to identify the source of showers, detect the humors of colic if he did not follow the wind’s birth backward toward its grotto? For innumerable gifts we receive we feel obligated and of these the fairest must be a propensity to reason. Thus, with Saturn ascendant under a full moon, having removed the heads from two spaniels I affixed them by intricate sutures to the body of a third, and contrived with praise, stroking and constant affectionate encouragement to preserve the similitude of life until dawn. The inferior head remained conscious. It seemed by a yearning look to approve, as though it might again participate in life, while the superior head displayed neither sense nor activity. What this reveals is doubtful, but where nothing comes to pass nothing keeps its shape. This being so, enquiry continued. Inside a stoppered bottle I placed twelve new-born titmice exactly at sunset, recording how they shuddered and twisted from lack of sufficient aether before submitting to fate. Also I have macerated the bones of tiny birds, and sliced apart fish bellies to probe toward the secret fundamentals of matter. Yet everywhere I meet that mysterious serpentine line traced by the hand of some incomprehensible presence. What else have I learned save the imperious ring and pulse of insistent life?
PLAGUE! PLAGUE AT Lübeck! Plague preceded by a bluish veil or cloud visible from Bremerhaven. Disorder. Tumult. Panic. We are told by Johannes Nohl that teardrops trickling down cathedral walls and blood-stains on previously immaculate garments betoken this curse. A dragon swimming up the Tiber proclaimed a similar visit, according to Gregory of Tours. So did ash hurled from Vesuvio. No doubt. But as with twins which manifestation has gained its likeness from the other? Cosmic emanations that presage catastrophe stream toward us while mankind looks to the ascendant—to a fresh and binding regeneration. Now rising news of peste like a wisp of basil breeds scorpions in delirious minds. Let the Lamb keep time, evil marches west. I think we may anticipate a trumpet blast with terrified calculation on the number of our days.
I WONDER ABOUT the impulse of this scourge. I disagree with de Chauliac who would assign it to conjunctions of planets by which the atmosphere and various elements are so altered that poisonous fluids gravitate toward internal constituents of the body just as magnets may be observed to attract iron—from which arise frenzies with bloody sputum and depositions in the form of glandular edema leading to suppurating boils with agonizing death. Varro believes in a subtle provocation of inanimate creatures, which would explain the degeneration of susceptible organs. Kircher argues how spontaneous worms capable of flight upon being sucked into a receptive corpus by motilities essential to a lung might conflate the animus, vitiate blood and gnaw flesh apart, which I think reasonable. Agricola points to especially turgid aether that originates in putrid exhalations stemming from unburied corpses, notably those of mercenaries that were stabbed or died of starvation. Might stagnant lakes, caves, or miasma from swamps be a cause? Or possibly the atmosphere is corrupted with excess moisture through prolonged rain and fog after a warm spring when east winds prevail—resulting in a plethora of flies, gnats, lice and other deleterious insects through involuntary generation, these being known to transmit humors. Or the comets of autumn emitting morbid exhalations. Or infectious mice. Man himself could be responsible if excessive emotion unites with sinful imagining. Yet like an arrow this Black Death strikes toward three vulnerable locations—ear, groin, axillae—suggesting that its impetus be external. Possibilities multiply. Doctors stand helpless, weak soldiers that think to demolish a castle through musket shot. Myself, how might I know what to believe should I grasp at the counsel of others?
THEY SAY PLAGUE walks to the accompaniment of a rushing noise followed by toads, snails, beetles. Moths fall upon vineyards, cats huddle unnaturally, dogs forget to bark. Oily rain falls, hideous flowers open. Women swathe their bodies
