them as false and worthless, we may fairly ask, why then did he give them such a prominent place in his encyclopedia? Surely we must conclude either that he really had a liking for them himself and more than half believed them, or that previous works on nature were so full of such material and his own age so interested in such data that he could not but include much of this lore. Probably both alternatives are true. Finally, many things which Pliny states without any reference to the magi seem as false and absurd as the far-fetched assertions which he attributes to them and for which he shows so much scorn. Indeed, it hardly seems paradoxical to say that he hated the magi but liked their doctrines.
What clearer example of magic could one ask than the conclusion that the odor of the burning horn of a stag has the power of dispelling serpents, because enmity exists between stags and snakes, and the former track the latter to their holes and extract the snakes thence, despite all resistance, by the power of their breath? Or that on this same account the sovereign remedy for snake-bite comes "ex coagulo hinnulei matris in utero occisi?" Or that, since the stag is not subject to fever, the eating of its flesh will prevent that disease, especially if the animal has died of a single wound? What more magical than to fancy that the longest tooth of a fish could have any efficacy in the cure of fever? Or that excluding the person who had tied it on from the sight of the patient for five days would complete a perfect charm? Or that wearing as an amulet the carcass of a frog, minus the claws and wrapped in a piece of russet-colored cloth, would be of any aid against disease?[1] Yet the Natural History is full of such things.
To plants, for example, Pliny assigns powers no less
- ↑ Concerning the stag, see bk. viii, ch. 50. On the use of frogs and fishes to cure fevers, bk. xxxii, ch. 38.
