honest gentlemen by inviting them to feast. Among the plotters are also
Good Company, Fried Meats, Gourmandizer, Drink Hearty, and others. In
the midst of the festivities rascals fall on the assembled guests and
give them deadly blows; these villains are Apoplexy, Gout, Epilepsy,
Gravel, and Dropsy. Almost all the guests present are more or less
injured, and upon their complaint their assailants are cited to appear
before a court held by Judge Experience, while the attorneys for the
plaintiffs and defendants are Remedy, Medical Aid, Sobriety, Diet, and
Old Pills. The trial, carried on in rhyme, is piquant and amusing, and
ends in the conviction of Supper, who is condemned to wear bread and
milk handcuffs. Dinner is doomed to a long exile on penalty of being
hung should he return. Supper is well pleased with the light sentence.
One of the attorneys abuses wine during the course of his argument for
plaintiffs, as, for instance:

    “Good wine is full of wicked lies,
    Good wine a wise man will despise,
    Good wine corrupts the blood and tongue,
    Good wine has many a fellow hung.[100]
    Good wine lascivious men will rue.
    Good wine, though red, makes drinkers blue.
    Good wine means lost ability,
    Good wine means lost docility.
    Good wine means jaundiced liver pain.
    Good wine means a wild, raving brain.
    Good wine means arson, murder, lust,
    Good wine means prison chains and rust.
    Good wine means broken family ties.
    Good wine means woman’s tears and sighs.
    Good wine makes cowards of the brave.
    Good wine digs a good drinker’s grave.”

He then goes on and gives examples, as, for instance, Alexander the
Great killing his foster-brother Clitus at a drinking banquet; he cites
the opinions of Saint Jerome and Terrence; he depicts Lot debauching
his daughters and Noah exposed to the mockery of his sons; he shows
Holofernes decapitated by Judith, and places all these cases to the
credit of intemperance. Then he adds a long list of diseases resulting
from drink, of which we shall only quote one verse of the original:

    “D’ou vient gravelle peu prisie
          Y dropsie,
          Paralisie,
          Ou pleuresie’
    Collicque qui les boyaulx touche?
    Dont vient jaunisse, ictericie
          Appoplexie,
          Epilencie,
          Et squinancie?
    Tout vient de mal garder la bouche.”

In quaint old French all the symptoms of alcoholism are perfectly
enumerated. It is evident that the epilepsy mentioned by the author is
only the epileptiform convulsion noticed in modern cases of chronic
drunkenness.

As to the _ictericie_, which a modern critic has translated as meaning
_black humor_, it is nothing more than what is now known as cirrhosis
of the liver. Nicole de la Chesnaye was a physician; his critical
commentator not much of one. We cannot follow this classical author
through the innumerable reasons he gives for blaming liquor drinking
and his high tributes of praise to the cause of Middle Age temperance,
and we cannot quote those original strophes on the ancient satirical
poet:

    “Le satirique Juvenal
    Avoit bien tout cousidere.
    Quand il dist qu’il vient tant de mal
    De long repas immodere,” etc., etc.

In another scene the drunken revelry of the Banqueters is re-enacted,
on the return of the convicts from exile, and another temptation to the
weak and young and foolish. In fact, one of the youths present, Folly
(_Le Fol_), is attacked and badly used up by the villain Gravel. The
poor fellow cries:

    “Alarme! Je ne puis pisser
    La Gravelle me tient aux rains!
    Venez ouyr mes piteux plains,
    Vous, l’Orfevre et l’Appoticaire.”

Then follows a comical scene of suffering, couched in such language as
would offend modern ears polite, and, therefore, out of respect to the
reader omitted.

In this play are many dialogues between Hippocrates, Galen, Avicenna,
and Averrhoes, who discuss medical topics at length, but these are too
lengthy for reproduction in this epitomized translation.

The morality of Nicole de la Chesnaye is full of good intentions, but
it is questionable whether he accomplished any considerable result in
reforming the morals of the Middle Ages; he perhaps fell as short in
his aim as modern hygienists on the morality of our own epoch. The same
instincts predominate now as in days of antiquity; the society man of
to-day is generally a mere digestive tube, serving to keep alive the
more or less badly served vital organs.

                        THE FOLLY OF THE WORLD.

This is a farce by the same Nicole de la Chesnaye. It was acted in
1524, and one of his chief personages in the play depicted a doctor of
the period. The following is a short analysis of this really curious
piece:

_Grandmother Sottie_ leads to the _World_ several persons whom she
desires the latter to watch while plying their avocations; the
_shoemaker_ makes his boots _too tight_ always; the _dressmaker’s_
dresses are ever _too large_; the _priest’s_ masses are said _too long_
or _too short_. This bad showing on the part of the World’s workers
make his mundane majesty sick. He sends a specimen of his urine to the
doctor, who, after a scientific examination, declares the World’s brain
is affected, and also that his new-found client must be visited in
person. On meeting the World he interrogates him as to his health, and
asks questions which might serve to make a diagnosis. The World tells
the doctor he is no longer afraid of water on the brain, but of being
consumed in a deluge of fire. The doctor then utters the following
wise and rather satirical observations:

    “World! be not troubled in thinking of fire,
      Let your mind on that score be at peace.
    Know that each monk, and low, rascally _friar_
      Sells and buys a good, fat benefice;
    Why, even the children, your subjects in arms,
      Are born to be _Abbots_, _Bishops_, and _Priors_,
    While church-bells keep ringing false fire alarms.
      But, great World, _all the clergy_ are liars!
    Their flattering’s truly their sweetest incense,
      Yet the parasites fawn for your treasures;
    Ah! church love for war was ever intense,
      And their doctrines mar all earthly pleasures.”

The World is so impressed by the doctor’s remarks that he immediately
weds Folly. Ever since, it is needless to remark, the World has enjoyed
pleasure without as much dread of fire. It is an easy matter to seize
the apologue sought by the author.

Here we see, as early as the sixteenth century, the social reforms
begun by medicine and continued up to the eighteenth century. The
abbots, priors and other gentry of the Church, who lived in idleness
and luxury, holding sinecures for which the masses were taxed; the
flatterers of bastard princes, the agents of the rich and aristocratic,
ruled the country and made wars costing thousands of lives for the
glory of the Church—_i.e._, _themselves_. These are the parasites that
epidemically attack the _World_.

                       GARGANTUA AND PANTAGRUEL.

Among the famous galaxy of philological stars of the sixteenth century,
the men who honored their age, we may enumerate Montaigne, Amyot,
Calvin, Marot, Michel de l’Hospital, Etienne Dolet,[101] and the
one great genius who eclipsed them all, the immortal Rabelais, who
was at once physician, philosopher, politician, philanthropist and
_litterateur_; in other words, he illustrated science and letters by
his erudition, and merits a place in the ranks of glorious Frenchmen
and among the list of benefactors of humanity.

Son of a wine-house keeper, the owner of the “Lamprey Tavern,” at
Chinon, he took orders in the Church, following the custom of the
epoch, because he wished to devote his life to study. During some years
he led the life of a monk, and was a close student of Latin and Greek
literature; to the latter especially he owes his concise, nervous,
but virile style, resembling that of Aristophanes. But soon fatigued
with religious hypocrisy, whose victim he refused to become, he left
the Cordelier and Benedictine Orders and sought refuge in the charming
village of Leguge, that his intimate friend, the Bishop of Maillezais,
had placed at his disposal.

Here, Rabelais gave himself up with ardor to the study of belle lettres
and science, only meeting socially the freethinkers, with whom he
discussed those great philosophic questions that had just commenced
to occupy the minds of the really thoughtful. Such superior men as
Estissic, Bonaventure Desperriers, Clement Marot, Jean Bouchet,
Guillaume, Bude, and Louis Berquin were the friends of Rabelais.

Etienne Dolet, the poet, philosopher and celebrated printer, who laid
down his life in opposition to monarchial and religious tyranny, was
the very particular friend and adviser of Francois Rabelais, and one
day traced for him the programme of a book destined, to his mind, to
unveil the vices and console the mass of victims who suffered from
social iniquities.

“Yes,” responded Rabelais, in answer,[102] “a book truly humane must be
addressed to all. The time has arrived when philosophy must leave the
clouds and shine like the sun for the entire universe. We must, from
this hour, suck from the breast of truth for the ignorant and learned.
I will see what is in me, and write a book of philosophy, which shall
instruct, console and amuse the brave vintners of Deviniere and the
jolly wine-drinkers of Chinon, as well as the learned. So well shall
this be done that Princes, Kings, Emperors and paupers may drink gayly
at one table together. The _truth_, no matter how hard to reach, and
rugged though its nature, must be related as truly as that found in
God’s book; and it shall be presented in a living form, so human and
natural that it will be accepted by all the world, and awaken in the
soul of mankind a common thought. What use is there, unless supported
on eternal conscience, to recount to good and true men the histories
that they love to have related, histories they themselves have made?
For instance, the ‘History of Giants,’ so much printed in our age,
since the divine art of bookmaking seems so well adapted to an end.
Through all of France I hear told the dreadful prowess of the enormous
giant Gargantua; it is necessary to lay violent hands on this history,
include in it all the world, and hand it back thus _newly created_
to the good people who invented the tale. Here is the true secret;
we derive from the humble class of citizens their plain and simple
ideas, and give them back ornamented with all the good things that the
study of philosophy brings us. The rustic thoughts of the villager,
such is the point I wish to attain, in divulging treasures hidden in
secret up to the present time by the enemies of light.” Such was the
plot conceived by the immortal Rabelais, which soon served as a basis
for “Gargantua and Pantagruel.” Thus, under the familiar form of an
impossible and exaggerated fictitious history, following the advice of
Dolet, our author proposed to attack in his book all the hypocritical
prejudices, superannuated ideas, together with the political and
religious superstitions of the Middle Ages;[103] he thus paved a way
for a Revolution, that must some day be accomplished in social morals,
to the profit of science and reason. In order to change the control
of orthodox and monarchial guardians, it was necessary to resort to
stratagems, to dissimulate in his plans of attack and use the ideas and
language of the superior classes. He had often heard the aristocracy
use vulgar and obscene expressions, and he was to put these back in the
mouths of his characters, so as to depict their unrestrained passions,
intrigues, _amours_, the luxury of their dress, their penchant for
disputation, their tendency to sensuality; all these were to be part of
his projected romance, which was not to be understood as irony even in
the sense of its paraboles.

The official sanction to publication was to be obtained by making
the authorities believe that the author was only a gay and witty
philosopher, a prince of good fellows whose doctrines were not
dangerous to the continuance of the nobility and the prerogatives of
the aristocracy; whose ideas presented nothing subversive, neither
as to the secular power nor to sacerdotal domination. Meantime, the
Sorbonnists, whom Rabelais had the impudence to rail at, doubted
perhaps the position reserved for them in such a satire, as for several
years previous they had been secretly hostile to him, which was a
serious matter, considering their influence.

The condemnation to the stake of Louis Berquin, as a propagator of
reform ideas; the pursuit of Desperriers, accused of Atheism; and the
red danger-signals waving on every hand, determined Rabelais, before
publishing his work, to quit Touraine and to go to Montpellier, where
he demanded protection of the Faculty. His natural pronounced taste for
the natural sciences, the avidity with which he continually extended
the circle of his knowledge, and, above all, the liberty of University
life, had long before attracted the former monk towards the study of
medicine.

It was under these conditions that Rabelais left Longey to go to
Montpellier, where his reputation for erudition, keen wit and most
perfect good nature had long before preceded him.

The reading of all the classical Greek authors, and principally
Aristotle, had initiated him in the natural sciences to that extent
that he was ready to receive his degree of “Bachelor in Medicine”
shortly after his arrival at the University, under the following
circumstances: He had followed the crowd of students who read theses in
the public halls, and thus mingled with the auditors at the meeting;
the discussion was on the subject of botany. The arguments of the
orators appeared so weak to Rabelais that he soon manifested signs of
impatience by a very sarcastic remark that drew the attention of the
Dean to the newcomer. He was invited to enter the enclosure reserved
for doctors who debated, but excused himself on the grounds that his
opinions would not be proper to enunciate before such a gathering of
_savants_, and that he was, besides, only a Bachelor; but, being
pressed by the crowd, who seemed pleased by his appearance and manner,
he treated the question under discussion in such a masterly manner, and
with an eloquence so unequalled, that rounds of applause greeted him on
every side; his knowledge of the subject seemed unbounded. The Faculty
was so pleased that he was immediately honored with the Baccalaureat.
This was in November, 1530.

Rabelais had not taken his doctor’s bonnet when his great medical
talent was fully known and appreciated by the professors of the Medical
Department of Montpellier, where his winning grace, good humor, and
communicative gayety made him friends everywhere.

Two of his boon companions at the University were Antoine Saporta, who
afterwards became Dean of the Faculty, and Guillaume Rondelet; with
these men he inaugurated at Montpellier theatrical representations with
a medical leaning. He wrote some celebrated farces, among others “The
Dumb Wife” (_La Femme Mute_), in which he himself assumed a leading
_role_—a farce which is related, as to plot, in “Pantagruel,” by
Panurge, under the title of “History of a Good Husband who Espoused a
Dumb Wife.” The following is an extract: “Now, the good husband wished
that his wife might speak, and, thanks to the skill of a doctor and
surgeon, who cut a piece from under the tongue, the woman commenced
to talk, and she talked and talked with recovered speech, as though
to make up for lost time, until the husband returned to the doctor
for a remedy to keep his wife’s mouth shut. The physician responded
that he had proper remedies for making women speak, but no remedy had
ever been discovered to keep a wife’s tongue quiet. The only thing
he could suggest to the husband was for the latter to become deaf in
order not to hear the woman’s voice. The old reprobate submitted to
an operation in order to be deaf, and, when the physician demanded
his fee for professional services, the husband answered that he was
too deaf to hear anything.” Then the doctor, in order to make the man
pay his bill, strove to restore his hearing by forcing drugs down the
husband’s throat, whereupon both husband and wife fell on the physician
and surgeon and so beat both medical men with clubs that they were left
for dead. This farce was played at Montpellier by a company of medical
students, and enjoyed an immense run of success. It was this farce that
helped Moliere out in one of his scenes in his famous play “Medecin
malgre lui.”

His literary productions, strange to say, did not injure his scientific
work meantime. During the time he resided at Montpellier he published
a translation of some of the works of Hippocrates and Galen, and also
commenced his “Pantagruel,” in which medical history may find some
valuable documents, for he showed himself to be in every line not
only a physician but a philosopher.[104] We will not return to this,
as it is too long, and would take an infinity of time to recall his
anatomical erudition, and it is needless to say he dissected as well
as he wrote. A very just conception of his style is obtained from the
description of the combat between Brother John and the soldiers of
Pichrocole, who had invaded the Abbey of Seville, a description which
is terminated in these droll lines: “Some died without speaking, others
spoke without dying; some died in speaking, others spoke in dying.”

In all his chapters it is easy to perceive that Rabelais never once
forgot he was a physician, and consequently a philanthropist, for could
the author of “Pantagruel” be otherwise? He pleased all those who
suffered, especially gouty patients, to whom he dedicated a portion of
his work. He states, at the beginning of his prologue, to Gargantua,
“This is for those who love gayety, for laughter is a proper attribute
of man.”

It was this same sentiment of humanity which led Rabelais to give
disinterested services to syphilitics, that unfortunate class of sick
whom the majority of doctors disdained to treat in the sixteenth
century. In 1538 he went to Paris and made great efforts to reform the
treatment to which such patients were barbarously subjected; the number
of such sufferers was great. He works this fact into the description
that Epistemon gives of Hell, “where, not counting Pope Sextus, there
are five millions of poxed devils, for there is as much pox in one
world as in the other.” But Rabelais, alas for modern theories, did
not fish in the ether with hook and line for microbes, while holding
the white hands of Venus.

It was Rabelais, then, who pleaded the cause of these poor poxed
patients, attacked by mercury as well as the syphilis, and who
exclaims: “How often I have seen them when they were anointed and
greased with mercurial ointment; their faces as sharp as a butcher
knife and their teeth rattling like the key-board of a broken-down
organ or the creaking motion of an old spinnet.”

It is evident he employed sweating baths, however, since it is
evidently proved by that passage from the redoubtable “Pantagruel’s”
nativity: “For all sweat is salt, as is evidenced if you but taste your
own sweat, or, a better experiment still, try that of pox patients when
they are being sweated.”

We know, besides, that G. Torella, affirms that “the best methods of
curing pox is to make the patient sweat near a stove or hot oven for
fifteen consecutive days, while fasting meantime.”

Syphilis, as already remarked, was exceedingly common in the sixteenth
century, as will be found by referring to the writings of Italian and
French specialists of that epoch. Rabelais corroborates this fact, for
he frequently alludes to this malady in his works; according to our
illustrious author great personages were not exempt from the disease,
not even the Pope and the Sacred College of Rome, not even kings and
princes, in fact all the nobility, for we read in chapter seventeen of
“Pantagruel”: “Moreover, Pope Sextus gave me fifteen hundred pounds
of rents on his domains for having cured His Holiness of _la bosse
chancreuse_, which so much tormented him that he feared to be crippled
all his life.” Now, a protuberant chancre was nothing but an inguinal
bubo, whose suppuration was considered as a favorable symptom of the
disease.

Even the good “Pantagruel” did not escape, more than others, the
fashionable contagion of his time, for we read: “Pantagruel was taken
sick, and his stomach was so disordered that he could neither eat nor
drink; and as misfortunes never come singly, he was seized with a
clap, which tormented him more than you would think, but his physician
succored him well, and by means of drugs, lenitive and diuretic, they
caused him to urinate away his misfortune (_pisser son malheur_). And
his urine was so hot that since that time it has never grown cold, and
there are different places in France where he left his mark, now called
the _hot baths_, as, for instance, at Cauterets, Limoux, Dax, Balaruc,
Neris, and Bourbon-Lancy.”[105]

The chapters of Rabelais’ famous book which most evidence his medical
knowledge are those discussing the perplexities of Panurge on the
question of marriage. Pantagruel has long commented _pro_ and _con_,
but has not fully made up his mind; he does not demand a solution
of the matrimonial problem from Gods, dreams, nor from the oracles
of Sibyls. He, however, consents to take council from Herr Trippa,
allegorical name bestowed by Rabelais on the German Camilla Agrippa,
of Neterheim, a philosopher and physician best known by his books on
alchemy, magic, and occult science. This _savant_ proposed to unveil
our heroes’ future destiny by “pyromancy, æromancy, hydromancy,
gyromancy”; or, better still, by “necromancy I will make a spirit rise
from the dead, like Apollonius of Tyana to Achilles, like the Witch of
Endor to Saul, who will tell you all, even as Erichto, dead and rotten
in body, rose in spirit and predicted to Pompey the issue of the battle
of Pharsalia.”[106]

Panurge always refuses, but finishes by taking advice from a priest,
physician, lawyer, and philosopher, who elucidate the question. The
consultation with the physician Rondibilis, that is to say, the
author’s friend Guillaume Rondelet, fellow student of Rabelais at the
University of Montpellier, is particularly interesting to all doctors
by reason of the anatomical and physiological arguments.

The good physician Rondibilis thus responds to Panurge on the question
of marriage:

“You say that you feel within yourself the sharp pricking stings
of sensuality. I find in our Faculty of Medicine, and we found our
opinion on the ideas enunciated by the ancient Platonists, that carnal
concupiscence is controlled in five manners.

“_Imprimis_, by wine; for intemperance in wine makes the blood
cold, slackens up the cords, dissolves the nerves, dissipates the
generative seed, stupefies the senses, perverts muscular movement;
which weaknesses are all impediments to the act of generation. Hence
it is that Bacchus, God of tipplers, bousers, and drunkards, is always
painted beardless and dressed in a woman’s habit, like unto a thing
effeminate or a eunuch. You know full well the antique proverb, _i.e._,
that Venus is chilled without the society of Ceres and Bacchus.”

These reflections on the general effects of alcohol on the nervous
system are very just. As to its particular effects on the function
of generation, it is admitted by all hygienists that alcohol taken
occasionally in excess excites venereal desires, but when taken
habitually it weakens the generative functions. Amyot remarks that
“_those who drink much wine are slothful in performing the generative
act, and their seed are good for nothing, as a rule_.”

Rondibilis told Panurge the truth. Let us now see what other advice he
gave his patient, and also note the methods by which he proposed to
secure the best possible completion of the conjugal act.

“_Secondly_, the fervency of lust is abated by means of certain drugs
and plants, which make the taker cold-blooded towards women; in other
words, unfit him for the act of copulation. Such are the water lily,
agnus castor, willow twigs, hemp stalks, tamarisk, mandrake, gnat
flower, hemlock, and others; the which entering the human body by their
elementary virtues and specific properties freeze and destroy the
prolific germinal fluid, and obstruct the generative spirit instead of
leading it to those passages and conduits designed for its reception by
Nature, and, by preventing expulsion, prevent man from undertaking the
feat of amorous dalliance.”

We will not enter into a discussion of the anaphrodisiac value of
the plants mentioned by Rondibilis. We still recognize the soothing
properties of _Agnus Castus_ and _vitex_, or monk’s powder, as it is
sometimes called; also that of belladonna, hemlock, digitalis, lupulin,
camphor, and hempseed; as for tamarack and willow bark, their virtues
are at least doubtful.

But from this passage from Rabelais we must conclude that the
therapeutic uses of plants was already well known in the sixteenth
century.

Again says Doctor Rondibilis: “Passion or lechery is subdued by hard
labor and continual toiling, which makes such a dissolution in the
whole body that the blood has neither time nor leisure to spare for
seminal resudations or superfluity of the third concoction. Nature
particularly reserves itself, deeming it much more necessary to
conserve the individual rather than to multiply the human species. Thus
the chaste Diana hunted incessantly. Thus the tired and overworked
are said to be ‘castrated.’ We continually see semi-impotency among
athletes. In this manner wrote Hippocrates in his great work, ‘_Liber
de Aere, Aqua, et Locis_’: ‘There is in Scythia a tribe which has been
more impotent than eunuchs to venereal desires, because these people
live continually on horseback and hard work. To the contrary, idleness,
the mother of luxury, begets sexual passion.’”

There is no necessity for long commentaries to demonstrate that manual
labor and active physical exercise lessen the natural tendency to
erotic ideas. The workingman and peasant are, as all the world knows,
less given to the passion of love than the idle and luxurious of the
cities. And the reasons given above by the Middle Age physicians are
to-day admitted by all physiological writers.

But let us continue the advice of Rondibilis:

“Fervent study diminishes the erotic tendency, for under such
conditions there is an incredible resolution of the spirits, so that
they never rest from carrying on a generative resolution. When we
contemplate the form of a man attentive to his studies we shall see all
the arteries of the brain tied down as though with a cord, in order to
furnish him spirits sufficient to keep filled the ventricles of common
sense, imagination, apprehension, memory, co-ordination,” etc.

These rather vague and imperfect physiological explanations are
open to discussion, but we all are aware that an excess of work, of
intellectual labor applied to science, letters, or arts, is recognized
to-day as a cause for weakening of venereal desires and the forerunner
of impotency.

Again says Rondibilis: “As to the venereal act, again: I am of the
opinion that the desire is subdued by the methods resorted to by
the Hermits of Thebaide, who macerate their bodies so as to quell
sensuality; this they do twenty-five or thirty times a day, to reduce
the rebellion of the flesh.”

This is to say that a certain cause of impotence consists in an excess
of genital apparatus, no matter of what variety; and we will add what
the physician of Montpellier has not mentioned, that this maceration,
which was nothing else than masturbation, superinduced spermatorrhœa,
the morbid effects of which, on the human economy, are well known.

It is unnecessary to follow our Master Rondibilis in all his
dissertations regarding the anatomical and moral imperfections of
women, which he attributes to the misleading of Nature’s ordinary good
sense, which he thinks “molded women more for the delectation of man
and the perpetuity of the species rather than to secure perfection in
the individual.” One thing is certain, that is, that he speaks with
much physiological spirit, and that the amiable Panurge is so enchanted
with the learned talk of Doctor Rondibilis that he does not forget
to pay him a consultation fee, for, says the veracious chronicles,
“Approaching him he put in his hand, without saying a word, four
_nobles a la rose_, the which Rondibilis accepted gracefully.” These
coins were made of fine gold, and struck off in 1334 by Edward III., of
England. They had on one side the figure of a ship, and on the other a
rose, arms of the Houses of York and Lancaster. This consultation was
royally paid for in money of the Realm.

If we study Rabelais closely we find he was a contagionist of
pronounced type, and believed in no other prophylactic against
pestilence except flight from the contaminated country. This is what he
makes his character “Pantagruel” do when the latter was in a village
“which he found most pleasant to dwell in, had not the plague chased
him out.” In another passage our author remarks: “The cause of plague
is a stinking and infecting exhalation.” It must be added, however,
that the plague was endemic at this epoch, and people, on the word
of prophets, attributed the cause to divine wrath. The roads were
crowded with pilgrims going to make vows and prayers at the chapel of
Saint Sebastian. How often had Rabelais endeavored to combat these
superstitions! As a proof of this let us make another short quotation
from the great satirist: “False prophets announce this lie! They thus
blaspheme the Just and the Saints of God, whom they make out to be
demons of cruelty. These canting hypocrites, the clergy, preach in my
native Province that Saint Anthony gives erysipelas, Saint Eutrope
gives dropsy, Saint Gildas makes people insane, and Saint Gildus
perpetuates the gout. I am amazed that our glorious King allows these
impostors to preach such scandalous lies in his realm; and they should
be punished rather than those who, by magic or otherwise, may bring the
plague into the country. The _plague_ only kills the body; but clerical
impostors poison human souls.”

It required a grand amount of courage to hold and express such
opinions in the sixteenth century, in the very face of the butchers
of the Inquisition. This courage was not acquired by Rabelais from
his philosophic studies nor his religious ideas; it was inspired by
scientific convictions, of which the Holy Office dared not demand a
retraction, as it did in the case of Galileo. _For the Papacy, from the
earliest periods of time, has always avoided controversy with medical
science._ And we may recall here the device that Rabelais inscribed
in his heart, as on the first page of his books: “_To Doctor Francois
Rabelais and to his friends_.” He was proud of his medical title, and
he considered practice (and we mention this fact inasmuch as an ancient
writer has claimed he did not belong to our glorious profession) as
a sort of magistral and sacerdotal duty, and demanded, as the first
condition for making a doctor, that the candidate for the honored
medical degree should have _a healthy heart_.

It was for his patients’ edification that he composed portions of his
books. He wished to calm their senses by revealing to them the great
spectacle of the world; and its purpose is all apparent, _i.e._, to
inspire among mankind a love for humanity; having no other personal
ambition himself than to play the part of doctor in the _role_ of life,
to dress the wounds of the unfortunate, to treat diseases of the body
and minister to the low-spirited and downhearted.

The strong masculine independence of his character is noted in the
manner in which he has attacked all oppressions, be they from science
or the Princes of the Church. He refused to blindly submit to the
authority of the so-called masters in physics, and reserved the right
to freely discuss their doctrines. “Hippocrates, Galen and Aristotle,”
he remarks, “great as they are, never knew all. Science is the work of
many successions of generations, and that which makes its grandeur so
mysterious is that the more we know the more new problems are presented
us for solution. Science, like, Nature, is infinite.” This lofty
language deeply astounded thinkers, and roused against its author that
same servile Pontifical party that prowled and plotted in the gilded
antechamber of the aristocratic chateaux-owners of the day; the same
variety of creatures we see to-day circulating, Indian file, through
the corridors of our academies, faculties and courts. For the new as
for the ancient, it is always the same word of the past, _Magister
dixit_. That never changes.

While acting as professor at Lyons, Rabelais gave “a course of
anatomical lectures, given with so much eloquence,” writes Eugene
Noel, “as to astonish all listeners; and he showed his audience
how man was constructed, like a magnificent and precious piece of
architecture, a thing of grace and beauty, so that the people crowded
to the lecture-room to hear him. Dolet followed these lectures. One
day Rabelais lectured on the cadaver of a man who had been hanged, and
he discoursed on his subject with so much grace and warmth, showing
so clearly the miracle of our nature, that Dolet, leaving the hall,
exclaimed: “Would I were hanged and I should be so could I be the
occasion of so divine a discourse!” Some passages of this celebrated
lecture may be found embodied in “Pantagruel;” for we see that he
taught, outside the grandeur of creation, respect for life and _what a
sacred thing blood is_.

Says Rabelais: “A single labor pain of this world is to manufacture
blood continually. In this work each member has its proper office.
Nutrition is furnished by the whole of nature; it is the bread, it
is wine—these are the aliments of all species. In order to find and
prepare this material, the hands of mankind work, the feet climb and
bear the machinery, the eyes lead us, the tongue tastes for us, the
teeth masticate our food, while the stomach receives and digests.” Here
our anatomist dwells somewhat at length on the formation of the blood
and the part played in digestion by our organs, adding:

“What joy among these dispensing officers of the body when, after their
complex work and hard labor, they see this stream of red gold. Each
limb separates and opens to assimilate or purify anew this treasure,
_the blood_. The heart, with its musical diastole and systole,
subtilizes it so that, met at the ventricle, it is perfection; then,
by the veins, it returns from all the limbs. The harmony of Heaven is
no greater than that of the body of man. One is overwhelmed and lost
when endeavoring to penetrate the depths of this wonderful microcosm.
Believe me, there is therein something divine; ah! this _little world_
is so good that, this alimentation achieved, _it thinks already for
those who are not yet born_.”

This extract from Rabelais serves to repel the accusation of scepticism
so often made against him, and we see two men in the personality of the
celebrated writer of the sixteenth century: the _savant_ who enriched
_belle lettres_, and the popular philosopher who addressed himself to
the disinherited of fortune and science. It was for the latter that he
claimed from secular power the right to the material satisfactions of
life, aside from the opinion of Pope and Church. Rabelais was the very
incarnation of philanthrophy and in this above all other things he has
honored the medical profession, of which he is an immortal member.

Rabelais it was who wished to be Architriclinus for the poor, for the
indigent, the joyous heart of the Pantagruelist. It was to the latter
that he remarked: “Drink merry friends, eternally, drink like hungry
fishes. I shall, be your cup-bearer and host; I shall attend to your
thirst, and never fear that the wine will fall short as at the wedding
in Cana. As much as you draw from the tap, as much more will I astonish
you at the bung; so that the wine cask shall never be empty; source of
all life’s enjoyment, perpetual spring of happiness.”

The recollection of his youth, so calm and joyous in his father’s
saloon, “the Lamprey Tavern,” amid the brave drinkers and gay wits,
with full goblets of the rich Septembral vintage, pure, sparkling,
rosy, grape juice, the glorious wine of his native Province, had much
influence on the ideas and opinions of the philosopher. He heard again,
as in the echos of memory, the merry songs of the grape gatherers,
and the Bacchic chants died away in musical notes adown the aisles of
the Temple of Time. He was happy in knowing himself to be Francois
Rabelais, doctor in medicine, but looking backwards, he felt the vague
and indefinable sentiment of poetry, that is ever associated with great
genius. It was then he cried:

    “O bouteille!
    Pleine tout
    Des mysteres,
    D’un oreille
    Je t’ecoute.”

Yet his heart was never sad, nor even tinged with melancholy. He
dreamed of the golden age of a universal fraternity among mankind and
eternal joy, the duration of the soul’s exile on earth.

To the Burgundy wine of France we owe this moral analgesia, which
chases away passions and all cares engendered by stupid worldly
ambition. He preferred the face of a jolly drunkard to the head of a
tyrannical Cæsar. He loved the wine bibber’s nose, as he says “that
musical bugle richly inlaid with colors of gorgeous design, purple,
with crimson bands, enameled with jewel-like pimples, embroidered with
veins of heavenly blue. Such a nose has the good priest Panzoult, and
Piedbois, physician at Angers.”

Rabelais did not ignore the fact that these “good drinkers” once had
the gout, for he did not forget to give a medical prognosis in the
case of the voracious Gargantura. “All his life he will be subject to
gravel.” But what difference is it though he had gravel, and the red
nose, that glorious work of Bacchus? He derived his warmest consolation
from the thought that a little good wine heated his blood and soothed
the bitterness of life, making him forget the injustice of some, and
the ingratitude of others; a veritable _nepenthe_ for his miseries,
cares and apprehensions. Every good drinker is a sage. Horace had said
so, and Rabelais who had read this master of Latin poetry, inscribed on
the front of his dwelling place

                            “HIC BIBITUR.”

 “_Within this place they drink wine, that delicious, precious,
 celestial, joyous, God-given, nectar and liquor._”

But, at the bottom of Master Francois Rabelais’ cask was a flavor not
fancied by all the world, the taste of free thought, opposition to all
tyranny, a Homeric spirit with a sonorous voice whose echo will resound
into future ages. Our authors, including historians, philosophers and
poets, revere his memory; and one of their greatest minds has said:
“Rabelais was a Gaul, and what is Gallic is Grecian, for Rabelais
is the formidable masque of antique comedy detached from the Greek
proscenium, bronze turned into living flesh, a human face full of
laughter, making us merry and laughing with us.” A similar judgment is
pronounced by the author of _Burgraves_, and _Notre Dame de Paris_.
Rabelais is immortal in spite of the ecclesiastical detractors who have
covertly assailed his memory for several centuries.

A doctor, philosopher, writer, he was the first exception in the
positive world, of that profound faith identical with science. It was
for that reason that the physicians of the Middle Ages looked up to him
as one of their glories; it is for this reason that his works should
hereafter be placed among the medical classics and no longer remain
neglected by the masses of that profession he honored. In the epitaph
he left, he did not forget the doctoral title he always so honorably
bore:

    “Cordiger et medicus, dein pastor et intus obivi,
    Si nomen quæris, te mea Scripta docent.”[107]

He did not think in making this verse, that the Parisians would one day
engrave his name with his last words on the marble of his statue as
witness for future generations that the memory of Rabelais must never
be effaced.

                              [THE END.]

  _Reprint from
  The Cincinnati Lancet-Clinic,
  December 1, 1888 to
  February 16, 1889._

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The Mahometans considered dissection of the human cadaver not only
as an impious act, but also forbid its practice by their religious
dogmas. They believed that the soul, after death, did not suddenly
abandon the body, but withdrew itself gradually, until it left the
limbs and finally entered the thoracic cavity. Thus the body could not
be dissected without suffering. However, osteology was not neglected,
and studies were made on the bones gathered in cemeteries.

[2] The romance of Dolopatos or the Seven Sages is the work of a
Troubadour of the twelfth century, named Herbers. The origin of this
poem seems to date back to Indian literature.

[3] The words are in old French and therefore not easily translated:

    “Vous avez oi la novelle
    Tandis com li plaie est novelle
    Lors pust estre mieux garie
    Que lors quant elc est envieillie.” etc., etc.

[4] This famous poem, by Perrot de St. Cloof, as a work of imagination,
is considered the most remarkable literary monument of the Middle Ages.

[5] The reader of old French can translate the following lines at his
leisure:

        La pie avoit tel meschief,
        Et la Jambe si boursoufflee,
        Si vessiee et si enflee
        Si pleine de treus et de plaies;
        In’il i avoit, ce croi, de naies
        Et d’estoupes demi giron,
        Boue et venin tout environ,
        De toutes parts en saillait fors.
                     —_Gautier de Conisi._

[6] In the _Miracles de Saint Louis_ we find the history of a cure
effected through the royal touch. This cure affords an illustration of
how the monks wrote medicine in the thirteenth century. The disease
resulted in this patient from white swelling of the left knee. The
following is the veracious chronicle:

“About the year of Our Savior 1174, before the Feast of St. Andre,
one Jehan Dugue of the town of Combreus, in the Diocese of Orleans,
was attacked by inflammation of the left leg near the knee. Several
openings were observable in the flesh, which was soft and rotten above
and below the joint.”

[7] Bachelor was in other times a title of chivalry or a University
degree. The word was derived from the Latin _Bachalarius_. The word was
not introduced into France until the sixteenth century. Under the name
_bachelor_ or _bachelard_ were afterwards known all young men in the
army studying the profession of arms, or sciences or arts.

[8] See the oath taken by Christian apothecaries and those that
fear God, prescribed by the _Procureur General_, Jean de Resson,
_Institutions Pharmaceutique_, 1626.

[9] Before modern times medicated baths were not held in favor; the
sand and iron baths, so highly extolled by Scribonius and Herodotus,
of Rome, were unknown in France. Sulphur baths were recommended in the
eleventh century, by Gilbert, of England, in dropsy and other cachectic
affections; and by Arnauld de Villeneuve, in cases of stone in the
bladder. Mineral water baths did not come into use really until the
sixteenth century. Hubert praised the waters of Bourboune in 1570,
and Pidoux those of Pougnes in 1584. The waters of Auvergne and the
Pyrennees were first described in the seventeenth century, as well as
those of Aix and of De Begnols, in Genanden.

[10] Procopius, the Greek historian, born at Cæsarea in the year
500, left behind him numerous works, among which may be enumerated
_L’Histoire de son temps_, in eight volumes (_Procopii Cæsariensis
Historia sui temporibus_). This history of the times by Procopius gives
a full description of the Plague, and is one of the _chef d’oeuvres_
of medical literature, one that will never be excelled. In this work
nothing being omitted, not even the different clinical forms, it is
truly classical.

[11] Georgius Florentius Gregorius, _Historia Francorum_, de 417 591
A.D.

[12] Anglada: _Etude sur les Maladies eteintes et les Maladies
Nouvelles_.

[13] _Traduction de Laurent Joubert de Montpellier._

[14] Black. “Histoire de la Medecine et de la Chirurgie.”

[15] The “Chronique de Raoul Glaber,” Benedictine of Cluny, covers the
period between the year 900 and 1046. It may be found translated in the
collection of memoirs on the History of France by Guizot.

[16] “Nouvelle Bibliotheque des Manuscripts.”

[17] Satirical writers would not have failed to have spoken of the
marks left by small-pox. Such authors as Martial, who frequented the
public baths in order to write up the physical infirmities of his
fellow-townsmen, to the end of divulging their deformities in biting
epigram, would only have been too happy to have mocked the faces of
contemporaries marked by the cicatrices of small-pox.

[18] In the year 570, a violent disease, with running of the belly and
variola, cruelly afflicted Italy and France.

[19] Gregorii Turonensis, _Opera Omnia_, Liber V.

[20] Latin _corallum_, which signifies heart, lung, intestines, and by
extension of meaning, the interior of the body.

        “C’est la douleur, c’est la bataille
        Qui li detrenche la coraille.”
                          —_Roman de la Rose._

[21] Sauvel, “Histoire et recherches des antiquites de la Ville de
Paris.”

[22] In the year 622, Aaron pointed out small-pox for the first time,
but it was only in the year 900 that the two Arabian physicians,
Rhazes and Avicenna, wrote their works on this malady and determined
the clinical forms, giving the prognosis and diagnostic signs and the
methods of treatment. Rhazes, physician to the hospital at Bagdad,
recommended, on account of the warm climate of his country, cool
and refreshing drinks. In the period of lever, he advised copious
bleedings, and for children wet cupping. He covered up his patients
in warm clothing, had their bodies well rubbed, and gave them a
plentiful supply of ice-water to drink. In certain cases, he placed
large vessels of hot water, one in front and one behind the patient, in
order to facilitate the eruptive process; then the body was anointed
before the sweat cooled off. He prescribed lotions for the eyes when
the eruption was heavy in the ocular regions. He advised the use of
gargles. He opened the pustules, when they maturated, with a golden
needle, and absorbed the pus with pledgets of cotton. He gave opium for
the diarrhœa and insomnia, and, when the disease declined, used mild
purgatives, etc., etc.

[23] Aaron, a contemporary of Paulus d’Aegineta, speaks only briefly
of the malady in his works. Rhazes mentions measles in his works,
giving a clear account of its diagnosis and treatment. He says that
when the patient experiences great anxiety and falls into a syncope,
he should be plunged into a cold bath and then be vigorously rubbed
over the skin to the end of provoking the eruption. Avicenna did not
recognize measles, considering it only a billious fever or small
pox. Constantine, the African, follows the example of Avicenna and
reproduces the opinion of the Arabian School without comments.

[24] Johannis Philipi Ingrassiae. “De tumoribus praeter naturam.” Cap.
I.

[25] Fernelli. “Universa Medico.”

[26] “Brief recit et succinte narration de la navigation faicte en
ysles de Canada.” Paris, 1545.

[27] Gregory of Tours says that in Paris they had a place of refuge,
where they cleaned their bodies and dressed their sores.

[28] They designated by the name of _borde_, _bordeau_, _bordell_,
_bordette_, _bourde_, or _bourdeau_, a small house or cabin built
on the edge of town; a cabin intended to contain lepers. The word
_bordell_, a house of ill-fame, as used even in modern days, takes its
origin from _borde_, an asylum for lepers.

[29] Etienne Barbazin, erudite and historian, born in 1696, author of
a number of works on the History of France: “Recueil alphabetique de
pieces historiques”; “Tableaux et Contes Francais, des XII., XIII.,
XIV., et XV. centuries”; “The Orders of Chivalry, etc.” He also
left numerous manuscripts on the origin of the French language. See
“Bibliotheque de l’Arsenal.”

[30] Pierre Andre Mathiole, “De Morbo Gallico.”

[31] Note sur la syphilis au XIII. siecle, “Gazette Medicale de Paris.”

[32] “Cyrurgia,” Magistri Guilielmi de Saliceti, 1476.

[33] Michel Scott: “De procreatione hominis physionomia.” Work
published in 1477, but written in 1250, for the author was born in 1210.

[34] It was Fracastor who gave venereal diseases the name of syphilis
in his poem “Syphilis sive Morbus Gallicus,” published at Verona in
1530. According to Ricord, syphilis is derived from the Greek words
_sus_, pork, and _philia_, love (love for pork). _Gorre_ in the
Romanesque language long before had the same signification.

[35] The Provencal text in the original reads as follows: “La reino vol
que toudes lous samdes la Baylouno et un barbier deputat des consouls
visitoun todos las filios debauchados, que seran au Bourdeou; et si sen
trobo qualcuno qu’abia mal vengut de paillardiso, que talos filios sion
separados et lougeados a part afin que non las counougoun, por evita
lou mal que la jouinesso pourrie prendre.”

[36] Astruc: “De Morbis Venereis,” chap. viii.

[37] Jean de Gaddesen: “De concubitu cum muliera leprosa, in Rosa
Anglica.”

[38] “Cyrurgia Guidonis de Cauliaco.”

[39] Torella: “De Pudendagra Tractatus.”

[40] “The reign of astrology,” remarks Sprengle, “led physicians
to attribute the affection to the influence of the stars. Saturn
who devoured his children, had, following the common expression,
produced the pox. It was his conjunction with Mars, in the sign of
the Virgin, that gave rise to the epidemic. Or it was the conjunction
of Jupiter with Saturn in Scorpio, as in 1484. At other times it was
the opposition of these two planets, as was noticed in 1494. Finally,
it was the conjunction of Saturn and Mars, as in 1496. (“If it was
the combined action of Saturn, Jupiter and Mars in the sign of the
Virgin that produced the syphilis, the astrologers might well think
that Mercury could destroy the effects of the disease, which would be
better than bleeding or purging.”) Leonicus attributed the cause of the
venereal plague to the general inundations that occurred about that
period, _i.e._, 1493, and afterwards in 1528. Besides, they recognized
as a cause of these venereal symptoms a general acridity of the humors
and the pre eminence of the four cardinal humors, but more especially
of a metastasis of bilious matter from the liver towards the genital
organs.”

[41] “De Morbo Gallico.”

[42] “Antiquites de Paris,” Tome III., by Sauval.

[43] “Observations et histoires chirurgiques,” 1670, Geneve.

[44] Antoine Lecocq, “De ligno sancto.”

[45] The use of mercury, _larga manu_, in frictions was commenced in
1497.

[46] Rabelais himself had attended syphilitic patients at Lyons, and
perhaps elsewhere, with more or less success. He says, in fact, in the
fifth book of Pantagruel, that among impossible things it is necessary
to class a quintessence “warranted to cure the pox, as they say at
Rouen.” Now, be it known that syphilis of Rouen was of such a bad type
that it passed for an incurable malady. From whence the proverb, “For
Rouen pox and Paris itch there’s no remedy.”

[47] “De Rebus Oceanis et de Orbe novo decades.”

[48] “Histoire Philosophique et Politique de l’Occulte.”

[49] Cœlius Aurelianus: “De Acutis Morbis.” Edition Dalechamp, p. 90.

[50] Magic had rank among the sciences of the school of Alexandria 150
years before our era, in a medico-theosophical sect, whose members
applied to cosmogony the doctrine of emanation. These admitted that
demons come from the source of eternal light, and that man might become
their equal by leading a contemplative life. There were a number of
such demons, all phenomena of nature, and particularly all diseases
were attributed to demonic power. These demons were incorporeal, and
their light surrounded certain bodies in the same manner that the sun
gleams in water without being contained therein. (See Sprengel). Let it
not be forgotten that the Alexandrian Library, the richest institution
of the kind in ancient times, and the Temple of Serapis, in which it
was installed, were committed to the flames at the instigation of the
monks, by order of their creature, the apathetic Emperor Theodosius.

[51] “De doct. Christ.” liber II.

[52] Baluze, “Capitularia regum,” capitola 13.

[53] Fleury, “Histoire Ecclesiastique,” Tome XVII.

[54] Leloyer, “Des Spectres,” Angers, 1588.

[55] See “Psychologie Experimentale,” by Dr. Puel; “L’Histoire de
l’Occulte,” by Felix Fabart; the “Livre des Esprits,” by Allan Kardec,
and “Fakirisme Moderne,” by Dr. Gibier,—many extracts from the latter
having been translated and published in the CINCINNATI LANCET-CLINIC in
1887.

[56] Sprengel, work cited, tome iii.

[57] Tetrabiblon, ii. et iv.

[58] Sprengel, tome ii., et Alexander Trallian. Liber ix. et xii.

[59] Arnauld de Villeneuve: “De Phlebotomia.”

[60] Bernard Gordon: “Lillium Medicinæ.”

[61] J. Fernelli, “Opera Universa Medicina,” liber II, chapter 16.

[62] Ambroise Pare, “Oeuvres,” ninth edition, Lyons, 1633, p. 780.

[63] Read the works of Jean Wier in the Bibliotheque Diabolique,
with the commentaries of Bourneville thereon. These books have for
a title “Histoires disputes et discours des illusions et impostures
des diables, des magiciens infames, sorcieres et empoisonneurs, des
ensorcelez et demoniaques et de la guerizon d’iceux.” Two splendidly
edited volumes. Delahaye & Co., publishers.

[64] J. Weir: “De præstigiis dæmonum et incantationibus.”

[65] Capeifuge.

[66] Monstrellet, _Chroniques_, liber, III.

[67] Jacques Duclerc, _Memoires_, liber IV., cap. IV.

[68] We find proof of this fact in the works of Gautier Coinsi, who
wrote on “magicians” as early as 1219, He gave such sorcerers the name
_tresgetteres_.

    “En la ville une gieve avoit
    Qui tant d’engien et d’art savoit
    De tresgiet d’informanterie,
    De barat et d’enchanterie
    Que devant li apartement
    Faisoit venir a parlement
    Les ennemis et les deables.”

[69] Calmeil’s work, before cited, p. 103.

[70] “Ecole du pur Amour de Dieu ouverte aux Scavants.” Work cited by
P. Dufour.

[71] “Lettres au sujet de la magie, des malefices et des Sorciers,”
Paris, 1725.

[72] Remigius, “Demonolatriæ libritres,” Lugd, 1595, p. 55.

[73] Thomas Erastus, “De Lamiis.”

[74] Nider: “In malleo maleficorum.”

[75] The ecstasy takes a sublime and contemplative character if,
during watchfulness, the soul looks upwards to the Divinity; the
hallucinations are erotic, on the other hand, if the mind and heart
dwell on dreams of love; when the thoughts are obscene during the
wakeful period, lascivious sensations are apt to follow. With
irritation of the sexual organs, male or female, come illusions, which
are mistaken for diabolical practices on the part of demons. (See
Esquirol.)

There is considerable of a correlation between chronic metritis and
obscene dreams.

[76] Mental suggestions.

[77] F. Willis observed a similar outbreak in 1700 in a convent at
Oxford, England, where the barking fit was followed by convulsions and
finally pronounced mania.

Reulin and Hecquet described a similar epidemic in 1701, characterized
by meowing like cats, which were heard every day at the same hour among
a crowd of nuns in a convent of Paris. These nuns all suddenly ceased
meowing when they were accused and told if the thing re-occurred they
should all be taken out and horse-whipped by a company of soldiers, who
were stationed at the convent door to carry out the order. See “Traite
des affections vaporeuses.”

[78] Mind reading?

[79] “Histoire des Diables,” p. 57 et 58.

[80] That is to say, particular states of sensation among certain
beings, conditions which may be produced artificially, with the
development of lucidity, in proportion to the power of the hypnotizer.

[81] Manuscript in the Bibliotheque Nationale. Published for the first
time by M. A. Benet, Paris, 1883.

[82] For full report the reader is referred to the original
French.—TRANSLATOR.

[83] Zoellner, “Wissenschaftliche Abhandlungen,” 1877 and 1881.

[84] When we question the Fakirs of India as to the phenomena of
_Spiritualism_, they answer that they are produced by spirits. “The
Spirits” they say are the Souls of our ancestors, serving us now as
_mediums_; we loan them our natural fluid to combine with theirs, and
by this mixture they establish a _fluid body_, by the aid of which they
act on matter, as you have seen.” (Paul Gibier, “Le Spiritisme.”)

[85] To give an idea of the ignorance of the _materialistic_ school
of _so-called scientists_, it is only necessary to read the word
“Somnambulism” as defined in “Littres Dictionary of Medicine,” where
we find the following lines on _rappings_: “These sounds are due to a
slight previous displacement of the patella, of the tibia on the femur,
when the tendon of the long lateral peroneal suddenly brings the parts
back to their first position. This displacement is induced by muscular
contraction and can be easily cultivated by habit.” The author of
this definition supports his statement by the _pretended experiments_
of Flint and Schiff; he might have said more justly on _the mere
assertion_ of Jobert de Lamballe and Velpeau, _who have all committed_,
as is well known, _in this connection a grave and stupid error in
physiology_.”

[86] Mr. and Mrs. L. B. are intimate friends of Dr. Puel, but the the
lady, who is a medium, gives us her mediumistic services in a most
disinterested manner; besides, she and her husband occupy a social
position which places them far beyond the need or desire for pecuniary
compensation.

[87] One of my friends, L. B., always has a wax taper in his hand,
which he lights from time to time, in order to find whether any fraud
is manifest.

[88] Recital of M. Jacolliot, Judge of the Tribunal at Pondichery,
India. Cited by Dr. Gibier.

[89] Dr. Gibier, “Le Spiritisme,” 1887. In the experiments made by Mr.
Oxon, of the University of Oxford, with the mediums Slade and Monck,
spontaneous writing was obtained, under the following conditions: The
slates were new, marked with a sign, and closely bound together. Oxon
never lost sight of these slates and held down his hand on them for the
time being. They were never out of his possession after he had washed
and marked them. These experiments were made under a full glare of
light.

[90] Pierre Le Loyer: Discussions and histories of spectres, visions,
apparitions of men, angels, demons, and spirits making themselves
visible to men. 1605. Paris, Bibliotheque de l’Arsenal. 1225. S. A., in
4°.

[91] There was at Athens a house which passed as being haunted by a
phantom. The philosopher, Athenodorus, rented this mansion. The first
night he occupied the same, while engaged in his studies, he heard and
saw a spirit, that made repeated signs to him to follow; he accordingly
followed this shade of the departed into the courtyard, where the ghost
disappeared. Athenodorus marked the spot of ground on which the spirit
had last stood, and next day asked the town magistrate to dig up the
earth at the place named; there they found bones loaded with chains,
which were released and given decent sepulture, with all due funeral
honors. The phantom returned no more (Pliny the Younger, Letters VII et
XXVII).

This is almost the history of the experience of Kate Fax at Hydesville.

[92] As examples of responses obtained by psychography, we may cite
the following definitions given by Eugene Nus and his collaborateurs,
artists, philosophers, and men of letters:

_Physics._—Knowledge of material forces that produce life and the
organism of worlds.

_Chemistry._—Study of different properties of materials, either simple
or composite.

_Mathematics._—Properties of forces and numbers flowing from the
universal laws of order.

_Electricity._—Direct force from the earth, emanating from particular
life to worlds.

_Magnetism._—Animal force, holding persons together; bond of universal
life.

_Galvanism and Electro-Magnetism._—Combined forces of earthly and
animal life.

[93] “I am attacked by two classes of different persons,” says Galvani,
“the _savants_ and the ignorant; all torment and ridicule me, calling
me _the dancing master of frog legs_. Meantime, I believe I have
discovered one of the great forces of Nature.”

[94] Laplace; “Traite du calcul des probabilities.”

[95] Olivier Basselin was the proprietor of a mill in the valley of
Vire, where he composed his little poems; hence, he named his rhymes
“Vaux de Vire.”

[96] This is, to a certain extent, a dialect poem, and bears a close
resemblance in more than one respect to Tennyson’s “Northern Farmers”.

[97]

    “Et mon orine
    Vous dit elle que je meure?”

[98]

    “On pense estre guari par l’obscure parole
    De quelque charlatan qui le pipe et le vole;
    Un autre plus niais me fait exorciser,
    Ou par un circoncis se fait cabaliser.”

[99] In the old French text, “Condampnacion des bancquetz a la louenge
de diepte et sobriete pour le prouffit du corps humain.”

[100] Poetic license in such rhymes unlimited.

[101] The group of poets of the same period was composed of Ronsard, Du
Bellay, Jodelle, Dorat, Belleau, Bail, and last, but not least, Pontus
de Thiard.

[102] Eugene Noel, “Rabelais medecin, ecrivain et philosophe.”

[103] In the happy Abbey of Theleme, that Gargantua builds, we see the
inscription of Fourier’s phalanctory destined for the elect, with the
inscription over the great door:

    “Ci n’ entrez pas hypocrites, bigots,
    Vieulx matagots, mariteux, boursofles.

    “Haires, cagots, caphards, empantouples,
    Gueux mitoufles, frapparts escarnifles.

    “Ci n’ entrez pas, masche faim practiciens,
    Clercs, basochiens, mangeurs de populaire,
    Officiaulx, scribes et pharisiens,
    Juges anciens,” etc., etc.

[104] The first edition of “Pantagruel” dates back to 1553, and the
year following he was physician at the Lyons Hospital, where he made
first, _before Vesalius_, anatomical lectures on the human cadaver.

[105] This origin of the French thermal sources is very curious, and
certainly ignored by ordinary patients.

[106] Agrippa has defined the _role_ of those who deal in magic in
his work, “De Vanitate Scientiarum, cap de Magia Naturali.” He says:
“Magicians are diligent students of nature, and by means of previous
preparation often produce marvelous effects, which the vulgar mostly
deem miracles, whereas they may only be natural work.” Traduction de
Louis de Mayerne, Turquet, medecin du roi Henry IV. 1603.

[107] “Monk, Physician, afterwards Clergyman, I descend into the tomb.
If thou desire to know mine name, mine works will inform thee.”

Transcriber’s note:

Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations
in hyphenation have been standardised but all other spelling and
punctuation remains unchanged.


understanding that would not break under any provocation.

And Noel cried out:

"And I want to be here, for I love you all, specially—my dear Christmas
tree."