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    feçe/fece
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    literae/litterae
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    cf./cp.
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    dilitano/dillitano
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    judgement/judgment

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       *       *       *       *       *




                                STUDIES

                                 IN THE

                           HISTORY AND METHOD
                               OF SCIENCE

                        OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS

                LONDON   EDINBURGH   GLASGOW   NEW YORK
                 TORONTO  MELBOURNE  CAPE TOWN  BOMBAY

                            HUMPHREY MILFORD
                      PUBLISHER TO THE UNIVERSITY

[Illustration: WIESBADEN CODEX B, fo. 1 r

Plate I. HILDEGARD RECEIVING THE LIGHT FROM HEAVEN]

                                STUDIES
                                 IN THE
                           HISTORY AND METHOD
                               OF SCIENCE

                               EDITED BY
                             CHARLES SINGER

                                 OXFORD
                         AT THE CLARENDON PRESS
                                  1917

                           PRINTED IN ENGLAND
                     AT THE OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS




INTRODUCTION


The record of men and of movements, History teaches us the growth and
development of ideas. Our civilization is the final expression of the
two great master-thoughts of the race. Seeking an explanation of the
pressing phenomena of life, man has peopled the world with spiritual
beings to whom he has assigned benign or malign influences, to be
invoked or propitiated. To the great ‘uncharted region’ (Gilbert
Murray) with its mysteries, his religions offer a guide; and through
‘a belief in spiritual beings’ (Tylor’s definition of religion) he has
built an altar of righteousness in his heart. The birth of the other
dominant idea, long delayed, is comparatively recent. ‘The discovery of
things as they really are’ (Plato) by a study of nature was the great
gift of the Greeks. Knowledge, _scientia_, knowledge of things we see,
patiently acquired by searching out the secrets of nature, is the basis
of our material civilization. The true and lawful goal of the sciences,
seen dimly and so expressed by Bacon, is the acquisition of new powers
by new discoveries--that goal has been reached. Niagara has been
harnessed, and man’s dominion has extended from earth and sea to the
air. The progress of physics and of chemistry has revolutionized man’s
ways and works, while the new biology has changed his mental outlook.

The greater part of this progress has taken place within the memory of
those living, and the mass of scientific work has accumulated at such a
rate that specialism has become inevitable. While this has the obvious
advantage resulting from a division of labour, there is the penalty of
a narrowed horizon, and groups of men work side by side whose language
is unintelligible to each other.

Here is where the historian comes in, with two definite objects,
teaching the method by which the knowledge has been gained, the
evolution of the subject, and correlating the innumerable subdivisions
in a philosophy at once, in Plato’s words, a science in itself as well
as of other sciences. For example, the student of physics may know
Crookes’s tubes and their relation to Röntgen, but he cannot have a
true conception of the atomic theory without a knowledge of Democritus;
and the exponent of Madame Curie and of Sir J. J. Thomson will find
his happiest illustrations from the writings of Lucretius. It is
unfortunate that the progress of science makes useless the very works
that made progress possible; and the student is too apt to think that
because useless now they have never been of value.

The need of a comprehensive study of the methods of science is now
widely recognized, and to recognize this need important Journals have
been started, notably _Isis_, published by our Belgian colleague George
Sarton, interrupted, temporarily we hope, by the war; and _Scientia_,
an International Review of Scientific Synthesis published by our
Italian Allies. The numerous good histories of science issued within
the past few years bear witness to a real demand for a wider knowledge
of the methods by which the present status has been reached. Among
works from which the student may get a proper outlook on the whole
question may be mentioned Dannemann’s _Die Naturwissenschaften in ihrer
Entwicklung und in ihrem Zusammenhange_, Bd. IV; _De la Méthode dans
les Sciences_, edited by Félix Thomas (Paris: Alcan); Marvin’s _Living
Past_, 3rd ed. (Clarendon Press, 1917); and Libby’s _Introduction to
the History of Science_ (Houghton Mifflin & Co., 1917).

This volume of Essays is the outcome of a quiet movement on the part of
a few Oxford students to stimulate a study of the history of science.
Shortly after his appointment to the Philip Walker Studentship, Dr.
Charles Singer (of Magdalen College) obtained leave from Bodley’s
Librarian and the Curators to have a bay in the Radcliffe Camera set
apart for research work in the history of science and a safe installed
to hold manuscripts; and (with Mrs. Singer) offered £100 a year for
five years to provide the necessary fittings, and special books not
already in the Library. The works relating to the subject have been
collected in the room, the objects of which are:

First, to place at the disposal of the general student a collection
that will enable him to acquire a knowledge of the development of
science and scientific conceptions.

Secondly, to assist the special student in research: (_a_) by placing
him in relationship with investigations already undertaken; (_b_)
by collecting information on the sources and accessibility of his
material; and (_c_) by providing him with facilities to work up his
material.

In spite of the absence of Dr. Singer on military duty for the greater
part of the time, the work has been carried on with conspicuous
success, to use the words of Bodley’s Librarian. Ten special students
have used the room. Professor Ramsay Wright has made a study of an
interesting Persian medical manuscript. Professor William Libby,
of Pittsburg, during the session of 1915-16, used the room in the
preparation of his admirable _History of Science_ just issued. Dr. E.
T. Withington, the well-known medical historian, is making a special
study of the old Greek writers for the new edition of Liddell and
Scott’s _Dictionary_. Miss Mildred Westland has helped Dr. Singer
with the Italian medical manuscripts. Mr. Reuben Levy has worked at
the Arabic medical manuscripts of Moses Maimonides. Mrs. Jenkinson
is engaged on a study of early medicine and magic. Dr. J. L. E.
Dreyer, the distinguished historian of Astronomy, has used the room in
connexion with the preparation of the _Opera Omnia_ of Tycho Brahe.
Miss Joan Evans is engaged upon a research on mediaeval lapidaries.
Mrs. Singer has begun a study of the English medical manuscripts,
with a view to a complete catalogue. How important this is may be
judged from the first instalment of her work dealing with the plague
manuscripts in the British Museum. With rare enthusiasm and energy Dr.
Singer has himself done a great deal of valuable work, and has proved
an intellectual ferment working far beyond the confines of Oxford. I
have myself found the science history room of the greatest convenience,
and it is most helpful to have easy access on the shelves to a large
collection of works on the subject. Had the war not interfered, we had
hoped to start a _Journal of the History and Method of Science_ and to
organize a summer school for special students--hopes we may perhaps see
realized in happier days.

Meanwhile, this volume of essays (most of which were in course of
preparation when war was declared) is issued as a _ballon d’essai_.

WILLIAM OSLER.




CONTENTS


                                                                    PAGE

  CHARLES SINGER
    The Scientific Views and Visions of Saint Hildegard (1098-1180)    1

  J. W. JENKINSON
    Vitalism                                                          59

  CHARLES SINGER
    A Study in Early Renaissance Anatomy, with a new text: The
    _ANOTHOMIA_ of Hieronymo Manfredi, transcribed and translated
    by A. Mildred Westland                                            79

  RAYMOND CRAWFURD
    The Blessing of Cramp-Rings; a Chapter in the History of the
    Treatment of Epilepsy                                            165

  E. T. WITHINGTON
    Dr. John Weyer and the Witch Mania                               189

  REUBEN LEVY
    The ‘Tractatus de Causis et Indiciis Morborum’, attributed to
    Maimonides                                                       225

  SCHILLER, F. C. S.
    Scientific Discovery and Logical Proof                           235

  INDEX                                                              291




LIST OF PLATES


    PLATE                                                    FACING PAGE

        I. Hildegard receiving the Light from Heaven (Wiesbaden
             Codex B, fo. 1 _r_)                          _Frontispiece_

       II. The Three Scripts of the Wiesbaden Codex B (fo. 17 _r_,
             col. b; fo. 32 _v_, col. b; fo. 205 _r_, col. b)          4

      III. Title-page of the Heidelberg Codex of the _Scivias_         5

       IV. The Universe (from the Heidelberg Codex of the _Scivias_)  12

        V. (_a_) Opening lines of the Copenhagen MS. of the _Causae
             et Curae_. (_b_) Opening lines of the Lucca MS. of
             the _Liber divinorum operum simplicis hominis_           13

       VI. Nous pervaded by the Godhead and controlling Hyle
             (Lucca MS., fo. 1 _v_)                                   20

      VII. Nous pervaded by the Godhead embracing the Macrocosm with
             the Microcosm (Lucca MS., fo. 9 _r_)                     21

     VIII. The Macrocosm, the Microcosm, and the Winds (Lucca MS.,
             fo. 27 _v_)                                              28

       IX. Celestial Influences on Men, Animals, and Plants (Lucca
            MS., fo. 371)                                             28

        X. A Crucifix in the Uffizi Gallery; about the middle of the
             thirteenth century                                       30

       XI. The Structure of the Mundane Sphere (Lucca MS.,
             fo. 86 _v_)                                              32

      XII. (_a_) Man’s Fall and the Disturbance of the Elemental
             Harmony (Wiesbaden Codex B, fo. 4 _r_).  (_b_) The New
             Heaven and the New Earth (Wiesbaden Codex B,
             fo. 224 _v_)                                             33

     XIII. The Last Judgement and Fate of the Elements (Wiesbaden
             Codex B, fo. 224 _r_)                                    36

      XIV. Diagram of the Relation of Human and Cosmic Phenomena:
             ninth century (Bibliothèque Nationale MS. lat. 5543,
             fo. 136 _r_)                                             37

       XV. An Eleventh-century French Melothesia (Bibliothèque
             Nationale MS. lat. 7028, fo. 154 _r_)                    40

      XVI. A Melothesia of about 1400 (from Bibliothèque Nationale
             MS. lat. 11229, fo. 45 _v_)           _Between_ 40 _and_ 41

     XVII. Facsimile from the _Symbolum Apostolicorum_, a German
             Block Book of the first half of the Fifteenth Century
             (Heidelberg University Library)       _Between_ 40 _and_ 41

    XVIII. An Anatomical Diagram of about 1298 (Bodleian MS.
             Ashmole 399, fo. 18 _r_)                                 41

      XIX. Birth. The Arrival and Trials of the Soul (Wiesbaden
             Codex B, fo. 22 _r_)                                     44

       XX. Death. The Departure and Fate of the Soul (Wiesbaden
             Codex B, fo. 25 _r_)                                     45

      XXI. The Fall of the Angels (Wiesbaden Codex B, fo. 123 _r_)    46

     XXII. The Days of Creation and the Fall of Man (Wiesbaden
             Codex B, fo. 41 _v_)                                     48

    XXIII. The Vision of the Trinity (Wiesbaden Codex B, fo. 471)     50

     XXIV. (_a_) Sedens Lucidus (Wiesbaden Codex B, fo. 213 _v_).
             (_b_) Zelus Dei (Wiesbaden Codex B, fo. 153 _r_)         52

      XXV. The Heavenly City (Wiesbaden Codex B, fo. 30 _r_)          54

     XXVI. John Wilfred Jenkinson                                     57

    XXVII. Mundinus (?) lecturing on Anatomy (from the 1493 edition
             of ‘Ketham’)                                             78

   XXVIII. (_a_) Four Diagrams, to illustrate the Anatomy of Henri
             de Mondeville (Bibliothèque Nationale MS. fr. 2030,
             written in 1314). (_b_) A Dissection Scene, _circa_ 1298
             (Bodleian MS. Ashmole 399, fo. 34 _r_)                   79

     XXIX. A Post-Mortem Examination: late fourteenth century to
             illustrate Guy de Chauliac (Montpellier, Bibliothèque
             de la Faculté de Médecine MS. fr. 184, fo. 14 _r_)       80

      XXX. (_a_) A Demonstration of Surface Markings: second half
             of fifteenth century (Vatican MS. Hispanice 4804,
             fo. 8 _r_). (_b_) A Demonstration of the Bones to
             illustrate Guy de Chauliac: first half of fifteenth
             century (Bristol Reference Library MS., fo. 25 _r_)      81

     XXXI. Anatomical Sketches from the MS. of Guy de Vigevano of
             1345 at Chantilly                                        84

    XXXII. Anatomical Sketches from the MS. of Guy de Vigevano of
             1345 at Chantilly                                        85

   XXXIII. The Five-Figure Series: Veins, &c., Arteries, Nerves,
             Bones, Muscles (Bodleian MS. Ashmole 399,
             fos. 18 _r_-22 _r_): about 1298                          92

    XXXIV. Demonstrations of Anatomy: second half of fifteenth
             century (Dresden Galen MS.)                              93

     XXXV. A View of the Internal Organs: Leonardo da Vinci (from
             a drawing in the Library, Windsor Castle)                96

    XXXVI. Two Persons dissecting, traditionally said to represent
             Michelangelo and Antonio della Torre (from a drawing
             in the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford, attributed to
             Bartolomeo Manfredi (1574?-1602))                        97

   XXXVII. Portrait of Giovanni Bentivoglio II, from his tomb in
             the Church of S. Giacomo Maggiore at Bologna            102

  XXXVIII. (_a_) Roger Bacon’s Diagram of the Eye: thirteenth century
             (British Museum MS. Roy. 7 F. VIII, fo. 50 _v_).
             (_b_) Leonardo da Vinci’s Diagram of the Heart: early
             sixteenth century (from a drawing in Windsor Castle)    103

   XXXIX. Miracles at the Tomb of Edward the Confessor, from
            Norman-French thirteenth-century MS. (University
            Library, Cambridge, MS. Ee. iii. 59)                     166

      XL. Queen Mary Tudor blessing Cramp-Rings (from Queen
            Mary’s Illuminated MS. Manual, in the Library of the
            Roman Catholic Cathedral at Westminster)                 178

     XLI. Facsimile of the _Tractatus de Causis et Indiciis Morborum_,
            attributed to Maimonides (Bodleian MS., Marsh 379)       225


ILLUSTRATIONS IN TEXT

SCIENTIFIC VIEWS AND VISIONS OF SAINT HILDEGARD

  FIGURE                                                            PAGE

  1. The Hildegard Country                                             3

  2. Hildegard’s First Scheme of the Universe (slightly simplified
       from the Wiesbaden Codex B, fo. 14 _r_)                         9

  3. Hildegard’s Second Scheme of the Universe (reconstructed from
       her measurements)                                              29

  4. Dante’s Scheme of the Universe (slightly modified from
       Michelangelo Caetani, duca di Sermoneta, _La materia della
       Divina Commedia di Dante Allighieri dichiarata in VI tavole_)  31

  5. Diagram of the Zones (from Herrade de Landsberg, _Hortus
       deliciarum_)                                                   40

  6, 7. Melothesiae (from R. Fludd, _Historia utriusque cosmi_, 1619) 41

  8. The Microcosm (from R. Fludd, _Philosophia sacra seu astrologia
       cosmica_, 1628)                                                42

  9. Diagram illustrating the relationship of the Planets to the Brain
       (from Herrade de Landsberg, _Hortus deliciarum_)               48

A STUDY IN EARLY RENAISSANCE ANATOMY

  1.  The first printed picture of Dissection (from the French
        translation of Bartholomaeus Anglicus, 1482)                  80

  2.  Dissection Scene in the open air (Title-page of Mellerstadt’s
        edition of the _Anatomy_ of Mondino, 1493)                    82

  3.  Dissection Scene (from the 1495 edition of ‘Ketham’)            83

  4.  The first picture of Dissection in an English-printed book
        (from the English translation of Bartholomaeus Anglicus,
        printed by Wynkyn de Worde, 1495)                             85

  5.  A Lecture on Anatomy (from the 1535 edition of Berengar of
        Carpi’s Commentary on Mondino)                                85

  6.  Diagrams of the Internal Organs (after Bodleian MS. Ashmole
        399, of about 1298)                                           88

  7.  A Female Figure laid open to show the Womb and other Organs
        (from the 1493 edition of ‘Ketham’)                           91

  8.  The Abdominal Muscles (from Berengar of Carpi’s Commentary
        on Mondino, 1521)                                             96

  9.  The first printed Map of England (from the 1472(?) Bologna
        _Ptolemy_, edited by Manfredi and others)                    100

  10. Facsimile of the last page of Manfredi’s _Prognosticon ad
        annum 1479_                                                  102

  11. Diagram showing the ten Layers of the Head, the Cerebral
        Ventricles and Cranial Nerves, and the Relation of the
        Nerves to the Senses (from M. Hundt, _Antropologium_, 1501)  112

  12. The Layers of the Head (from the _Anatomia_ of Johannes
        Dryander, 1537)                                              112

  13. Diagram showing the Ventricles of the Brain (from _Illustrissimi
        philosophi et theologi domini Alberti magni compendiosum
        insigne ac perutile opus Philosophiae naturalis_, 1496)      114

  14. Diagram of the Senses, the Humours, the Cerebral Ventricles,
        and the Intellectual Faculties. To illustrate Roger Bacon,
        _De Scientia Perspectiva_, (British Museum MS. Sloane 2156,
        fo. 11 _r_)                                                  116

  15. Diagram illustrating the general ideas on Anatomy current at
        the Renaissance (from K. Peyligk. _Philosophiae naturalis
        compendium_, 1489)                                           116

  16. Diagrams of the Cerebral Ventricles viewed from above and
        from the side (from K. Peyligk, _Philosophiae naturalis
        compendium_, 1489)                                           117

  17. The Localization of Cerebral Functions (from the 1493 edition
        of ‘Ketham’)                                                 117

  18. Diagram of the Ventricles and the Senses, with their relation
        to the intellectual processes, according to the doctrine of
        the Renaissance anatomists (from G. Reisch, _Margarita
        philosophiae_, 1503)                                         117

  19. The Anatomy of the Eye (from G. Reisch, _Margarita
        philosophiae_, 1503)                                         120

  20. The Anatomy of the Eye (from Vesalius, _De humani corporis
        fabrica_, 1543)                                              121

  21. The Heart (from the Roncioni MS., Pisa 99)                     127

  22. Diagram showing the two Lateral Ventricles and the ‘Central’
        Ventricle, (from Johannes Adelphus, _Mundini de omnibus
        humani corporis interioribus menbris Anathomia_, 1513)       128

  23. The Heart (from Hans von Gersdorff, _Feldt- und Stattbüch
        bewerter Wundartznei_, 1556)                                 129

DR. JOHN WEYER AND THE WITCH MANIA

  Portrait of Dr. John Weyer at the age of 60, 1576                  189




    THE SCIENTIFIC VIEWS AND VISIONS OF SAINT HILDEGARD (1098-1180)

                           By Charles Singer


                                                           PAGE

       I. Introduction                                        1
      II. Life and Works                                      2
     III. Bibliographical Note                                6
      IV. The Spurious Scientific Works of Hildegard         12
       V. Sources of Hildegard’s Scientific Knowledge        15
      VI. The Structure of the Material Universe             22
     VII. Macrocosm and Microcosm                            30
    VIII. Anatomy and Physiology                             43
      IX. Birth and Death and the Nature of the Soul         49
       X. The Visions and their Pathological Basis           51


I. INTRODUCTION

In attempting to interpret the views of Hildegard on scientific
subjects, certain special difficulties present themselves. First is
the confusion arising from the writings to which her name has been
erroneously attached. To obtain a true view of the scope of her work,
it is necessary to discuss the authenticity of some of the material
before us. A second difficulty is due to the receptivity of her mind,
so that views and theories that she accepts in her earlier works
become modified, altered, and developed in her later writings. A third
difficulty, perhaps less real than the others, is the visionary and
involved form in which her thoughts are cast.

But a fourth and more vital difficulty is the attitude that she adopts
towards phenomena in general. To her mind there is no distinction
between physical events, moral truths, and spiritual experiences. This
view, which our children share with their mediaeval ancestors, was
developed but not transformed by the virile power of her intellect.
Her fusion of internal and external universe links Hildegard indeed
to a whole series of mediaeval visionaries, culminating with Dante.
In Hildegard, as in her fellow mystics, we find that ideas on Nature
and Man, the Moral World and the Material Universe, the Spheres,
the Winds, and the Humours, Birth and Death, and even on the Soul,
the Resurrection of the Dead, and the Nature of God, are not only
interdependent, but closely interwoven. Nowadays we are well
accustomed to separate our ideas into categories, scientific, ethical,
theological, philosophical, and so forth, and we even esteem it a
virtue to retain and restrain our thoughts within limits that we
deliberately set for them. To Hildegard such classification would have
been impossible and probably incomprehensible. Nor do such terms as
_parallelism_ or _allegory_ adequately cover her view of the relation
of the material and spiritual. In her mind they are really interfused,
or rather they have not yet been separated.

Therefore, although in the following pages an attempt is made to
estimate her scientific views, yet the writer is conscious that such a
method must needs interpret her thought in a partial manner. Hildegard,
indeed, presents to us scientific thought as an undifferentiated
factor, and an attempt is here made to separate it by the artificial
but not unscientific process of dissection from the organic matrix in
which it is embedded.

The extensive literature that has risen around the life and works of
Hildegard has come from the hands of writers who have shown no interest
in natural knowledge, while those who have occupied themselves with the
history of science have, on their side, largely neglected the period
to which Hildegard belongs, allured by the richer harvest of the full
scholastic age which followed. This essay is an attempt to fill in a
small part of the lacuna.


II. LIFE AND WORKS

Hildegard of Bingen was born in 1098, of noble parentage, at
Böckelheim, on the river Nahe, near Sponheim. Destined from an early
age to a religious life, she passed nearly all her days within the
walls of Benedictine houses. She was educated and commenced her career
in the isolated convent of Disibodenberg, at the junction of the Nahe
and the Glan, where she rose to be abbess. In 1147 she and some of her
nuns migrated to a new convent on the Rupertsberg, a finely placed
site, where the smoky railway junction of Bingerbrück now mars the
landscape. Between the little settlement and the important mediaeval
town of Bingen flowed the river Nahe, spanned by a bridge to which
still clung the name of the pagan Drusus (see Fig. 1). At this spot, a
place of ancient memories, secluded and yet linked to the world, our
abbess passed the main portion of her life, and here she closed her
eyes in the eighty-second year of her age on September 17, 1180.

[Illustration: Fig. 1. THE HILDEGARD COUNTRY]

Hildegard was a woman of extraordinarily active and independent mind.
She was not only gifted with a thoroughly efficient intellect, but
was possessed of great energy and considerable literary power, and
her writings cover a wide range, betraying the most varied activities
and remarkable imaginative faculty. The best known, and in a literary
sense the most valuable of her works, are the books of visions. She
was before all things an ecstatic, and both her _Scivias_ (1141-50)
and her _Liber divinorum operum simplicis hominis_ (1163-70) contain
passages of real power and beauty. Less valuable, perhaps, is her
third long mystical work (the second in point of time), the _Liber
vitae meritorum_ (1158-62). She is credited with the authorship of an
interesting mystery-play and of a collection of musical compositions,
while her life of St. Disibode, the Irish missionary (594-674) to
whom her part of the Rhineland owes its Christianity, and her account
of St. Rupert, a local saint commemorated in the name ‘Rupertsberg’,
both bear witness alike to her narrative powers, her capacity for
systematic arrangement, and her historical interests. Her extensive
correspondence demonstrates the influence that she wielded in her own
day and country, while her _Quaestionum solutiones triginta octo_, her
_Explanatio regulae sancti Benedicti_, and her _Explanatio symboli
sancti Athanasii ad congregationem sororum suorum_ give us glimpses of
her activities as head of a religious house.

Her biographer, the monk Theodoric, records that she also busied
herself with the treatment of the sick, and credits her with miraculous
powers of healing.[1] Some of the cited instances of this faculty, as
the curing of a love-sick maid,[2] are, however, but manifestations of
personal ascendancy over weaker minds; notwithstanding her undoubted
acquaintance with the science of her day, and the claims made for her
as a pioneer of the hospital system, there is no serious evidence that
her treatment extended beyond exorcism and prayer.

For her time and circumstance Hildegard had seen a fair amount of the
world. Living on the Rhine, the highway of Western Germany, she was
well placed for observing the traffic and activities of men. She had
journeyed at least as far north as Cologne, and had traversed the
eastern tributary of the great river to Frankfort on the Main and
to Rothenburg on Taube.[3] Her own country, the basin of the Nahe
and the Glan, she knew intimately. She was, moreover, in constant
communication with Mayence, the seat of the archbishopric in which
Bingen was situated, and there has survived an extensive correspondence
with the ecclesiastics of Cologne, Speyer, Hildesheim, Trèves, Bamberg,
Prague, Nürnberg, Utrecht, and numerous other towns of Germany, the Low
Countries, and Central Europe.

[Illustration: Folio 17 r col. b   Folio 32 v col. b   Folio 205 r col. b

Plate II. THE THREE SCRIPTS OF THE WIESBADEN CODEX B]

Hildegard’s journeys, undertaken with the object of stimulating
spiritual revival, were of the nature of religious progresses, but,
like those of her contemporary, Bernard of Clairvaux, they were in fact
largely directed against the heretical and most cruelly persecuted
Cathari, an Albigensian sect widely spread in the Rhine country of the
twelfth century, whom Hildegard regarded as ‘worse than the Jews’.[4]
In justice to her memory it is to be recalled that she herself was
ever against the shedding of blood, and had her less ferocious views
prevailed, some more substantial relic than the groans and tears of
this people had reached our time, while the annals of the Church had
been spared the defilement of an inexpiable stain.

[Illustration: Plate III. TITLE PAGE OF THE HEIDELBERG CODEX OF THE
_SCIVIAS_]

Hildegard’s correspondence with St. Bernard, then preaching his
crusade, with four popes, Eugenius III, Anastasius IV, Adrian IV, and
Alexander III, and with the emperors Conrad and Frederic Barbarossa,
brings her into the current of general European history, while she
comes into some slight contact with the story of our own country by her
hortatory letters to Henry II and to his consort Eleanor, the divorced
wife of Louis VII.[5]

To complete a sketch of her literary activities, mention should
perhaps be made of a secret script and language, the _lingua ignota_,
attributed to her. It is a transparent and to modern eyes a foolishly
empty device that hardly merits the dignity of the term ‘mystical’. It
has, however, exercised the ingenuity of several writers, and has been
honoured by analysis at the hands of Wilhelm Grimm.[6]

Ample material exists for a full biography of Hildegard, and a number
of accounts of her have appeared in the vulgar tongue. Nearly all are
marred by a lack of critical judgement that makes their perusal a
weary task, and indeed it would need considerable skill to interest a
detached reader in the minutiae of monastic disputes that undoubtedly
absorbed a considerable part of her activities. Perhaps the best life
of her is the earliest; it is certainly neither the least critical nor
the most credulous, and is by her contemporaries, the monks Godefrid
and Theodoric.[7]

The title of ‘saint’ is usually given to Hildegard, but she was not
in fact canonized. Attempts towards that end were made under Gregory
IX (1237), Innocent IV (1243), and John XXII (1317). Miraculous cures
and other works of wonder were claimed for her, but either they were
insufficiently miraculous or insufficiently attested.[8] Those who
have impartially traced her life in her documents will agree with the
verdict of the Church. Hers was a fiery, a prophetic, in many ways a
singularly noble spirit, but she was not a saint in any intelligible
sense of the word.


III. BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE

There is no complete edition of the works of Hildegard. For the
majority of readers the most convenient collection will doubtless be
vol. 197 of Migne, _Patrologia Latina_. This can be supplemented from
Cardinal J. B. Pitra’s well-edited _Analecta sacra_, the eighth volume
of which contains certain otherwise inaccessible works of Hildegard,[9]
and is the only available edition of the _Liber vitae meritorum per
simplicem hominem a vivente luce, revelatorum_.

Manuscripts of the writings of our abbess are numerous and are widely
scattered over Europe. Four of them are of special importance for our
purpose, and are here briefly described.

(A) is a vast parchment of 480 folios in the Nassauische
Landesbibliothek at Wiesbaden. This much-thumbed volume, still bearing
the chain that once tethered it to some monastic desk, is written in
a thirteenth-century script. There is evidence that it was prepared
in the neighbourhood of Hildegard’s convent, if not in that convent
itself. It is interesting as a collection of those works that the
immediate local tradition attributed to her, and is thus useful as
a standard of genuineness.[10] Reference will be made to it in the
following pages as the _Wiesbaden Codex A._ Its contents are as follows:

  1. Liber Scivias.

  2. Liber _vitae_ meritorum.

  3. Liber divinorum operum.

  4. Ad praelatos moguntienses.

  5. Vita sanctae Hildegardis. By Godefrid and Theodoric.

  6. Liber epistolarum et orationum. This collection contains 292
     items, and includes the Explanatio symboli Athanasii, the
     Exposition of the Rule of St. Benedict, and the Lives of St.
     Disibode and St. Rupert.

  7. Expositiones evangeliorum.

  8. Ignota lingua and Ignotae litterae.

  9. Litterae villarenses.

  10. Symphonia harmoniae celestum revelationum.

(B) is also at Wiesbaden, and will be cited here as the _Wiesbaden
Codex B_. It contains the _Scivias_ only, and is a truly noble volume
of 235 folios, beautifully illuminated, in excellent preservation,
and of the highest value for the history of mediaeval art. It has
been thoroughly investigated by the late Dom Louis Baillet,[11] who
concluded that it was written in or near Bingen between the dates 1160
and 1180. Its miniatures help greatly in the interpretation of the
visions, illustrating them often in the minutest and most unexpected
details. In view of the great difficulty of visualizing much of her
narrative, these miniatures afford to our mind strong evidence that the
MS. was supervised by the prophetess herself, or was at least prepared
under her immediate tradition. This view is confirmed by comparing the
miniatures with those of the somewhat similar but inferior Heidelberg
MS. (C).

Both the miniatures and the script of the Wiesbaden Codex B are
the work of several hands. There are three distinct handwritings
discernible (Plate II). The earliest is attributed by Baillet in
his careful work to the twelfth century, while the later writing is
in thirteenth-century hands.[12] It thus appears to us that while
Hildegard herself probably supervised the earlier stages of the
preparation of this volume, its completion took place subsequent to
her death. This view is sustained by the fact that some of the later
miniatures are far less successful than the earlier figures in aiding
the interpretation of her text.

The two Wiesbaden MSS. appear to have remained at the convent on the
Rupertsberg opposite Bingen until the seventeenth century. They were
studied there by Trithemius in the fifteenth century, and one of them
at least was seen by the Mayence Commission of 1489. Later they were
noted by the theologians Osiander (1527) and Wicelius (Weitzel, 1554),
and by the antiquary Nicolaus Serarius (1604). In 1632, during the
Thirty Years’ War, the Rupertsberg buildings were destroyed, the MSS.
being removed to a place of safety in the neighbouring settlement
at Eibingen, where they were again recorded in 1660 by the Jesuits
Papenbroch and Henschen.[13] At some unknown date they were transferred
to Wiesbaden, where they were examined in 1814 by Goethe,[14] and a few
years later by Wilhelm Grimm,[15] and where they have since remained.

[Illustration: Fig. 2. HILDEGARD’S FIRST SCHEME OF THE UNIVERSE

Slightly simplified from the Wiesbaden Codex B, folio 14 r.]

(C) This MS. is at the University Library at Heidelberg. It also
contains only the _Scivias_, and it is the only known illuminated
MS. of that work except the Wiesbaden Codex B. The Heidelberg MS.
was prepared with great care in the early thirteenth century, only a
little later than its fellow, but its figures afford little aid in the
interpretation of the text. Thus, for instance, the Heidelberg diagram
of the universe (Plate IV) is of a fairly conventional type which quite
fails to illustrate the difficult description. The obscurities of the
text are, however, at once explained by a figure in the Wiesbaden
Codex B (Fig. 2): we thus obtain further indirect evidence of the
personal influence of Hildegard in the preparation of that MS. The
representation of Hildegard in the Heidelberg MS. (Plate III) shows no
resemblance to those in the Wiesbaden Codex B (Plate I) or in the Lucca
MS. (Plates VI to IX), which will now be described.

(D) is an illustrated codex of the _Liber divinorum operum simplicis
hominis_ at the Municipal Library at Lucca. It contains ten beautiful
miniatures, some of which are here reproduced (Plates VI to IX and XI),
as they are of special value for the interpretation of Hildegard’s
theories on the relation of macrocosm and microcosm.

This Lucca MS. was described and its text printed in 1761 by Giovanni
Domenico Mansi,[16] a careful scholar, who was himself sometime
Archbishop of Lucca. Mansi concluded that it was written at the
end of the twelfth or the beginning of the thirteenth century. On
palaeographical grounds a slightly later date would nowadays probably
be preferred (Plate V _b_).

The work consists of ten visions, each illustrated by a figure.
The date, character, and meaning of these miniatures raise special
problems to which only very superficial reference can here be made.
Unfortunately but little work has been done on early Italian schools of
miniaturists, and it is not a subject on which any exact knowledge can
yet be said to exist.[17]

Of these ten miniatures we may dismiss the last five in a few words.
The sixth to the tenth visions are of purely theological interest, and
the miniatures illustrating them are by a different hand to the rest.
They are all relatively crude products, which appear to us to resemble
other Italian work of the period at which the MS. was written. We shall
concentrate our attention on the first five miniatures.

The first three miniatures of the Lucca MS. (Plates VI to VIII) may be
attributed to the same hand on the following grounds:

1. All have a very similar inset figure of the prophetess below the
main picture.

2. The character of the principal figure of the first miniature
(Plate VI) is almost identical with the curious universe-embracing
double-headed figure of the second miniature (Plate VII).

3. The features and draughtsmanship of the central figure of the second
miniature (Plate VII) are identical with those of the third (Plate
VIII).

4. The beasts’ heads arranged round the second miniature (Plate VII)
are exactly reproduced in the third miniature (Plate VIII).

Now although these three miniatures are in some respects unique, they
contain elements enabling us to date them with an approach to accuracy.
These elements are to be found especially in the central figure of the
second and third miniatures (Plates VII and VIII).

About the middle of the thirteenth century, as Venturi has shown,[18]
there was a well-marked change in Northern Italy in the traditional
representation of the form on the Cross. This change was followed with
almost slavish accuracy, and the new form is well represented by a
painting in the Uffizi Gallery (Plate X). It is this figure of Christ
which is reproduced by our miniaturist. The central figure of Plates
VII and VIII resembles that of the Uffizi crucifix, for instance, in
the general pose of the body, in the position of the legs and of the
arms, in the treatment of the abdominal musculature, in the method of
outlining the muscles of the legs and of the arms, and in a minute and
very constant detail by which the outline of the left side is continued
with the fold of the groin, thus giving an impression of the left thigh
being advanced on the right. Furthermore, the somewhat Byzantine cast
of countenance of the figure can be closely paralleled from Northern
Italian work of the same period. We therefore regard these first three
miniatures of the Lucca MS. as dating from about the middle of the
thirteenth century.

The remaining two miniatures (Plates IX and XI) offer special
difficulties. Plate XI (illustrating the fifth vision) presents us with
no complete human figures, except the small and probably copied inset
of the prophetess below the miniature. The faces bear some resemblance
to those of the last five miniatures; the wings, on the other hand, to
those of the first miniature (Plate VI). It is perhaps possible that
this miniature was the work of an early thirteenth-century artist, and
that the wings and some other details were added by a later hand. The
abnormal orientation, east to the left and south above, suggests that
we have here to do with some special influence.

The most anomalous of all is, however, the beautiful fourth
miniature (Plate IX). This picture has a general feeling of the
early Renaissance, though it is hard to find in it any definite
humanistic element. The nude female figure in the upper left quadrant
is especially striking. No parallel to it is to be found in the
thirteenth-century Italian miniatures that have so far been reproduced,
and it appears to us difficult to date the miniature anterior to the
fourteenth century at the very earliest. It is, in any event, by a
different hand to the others. The rashes on the patients in the two
upper and the right lower quadrants are perhaps an attempt to render
the fatal ‘God’s tokens’ of those waves of pestilence that devastated
the Italian peninsula in the fourteenth century.

Whatever the date of these miniatures, however, they reproduce the
meaning of the text of the _Liber divinorum operum_ with a convincing
certainty and sureness of touch. This work is the most difficult
of all Hildegard’s mystical writings. Without the clues provided by
the miniatures, many passages in it are wholly incomprehensible. It
appears to us therefore by no means improbable that the traditional
interpretation of Hildegard’s works, thus preserved to our time by
these miniatures and by them alone, may have had its origin from
the mouth of the prophetess herself, perhaps through another set of
miniatures that has disappeared or has not yet come to light.[19]


IV. THE SPURIOUS SCIENTIFIC WORKS OF HILDEGARD

The scientific views of Hildegard are embedded in a theological
setting, and are mainly encountered in the _Scivias_ and the _Liber
divinorum operum simplicis hominis_. To a less extent they appear
occasionally in her _Epistolae_ and in the _Liber vitae meritorum_.

[Illustration: From the HEIDELBERG CODEX OF THE _SCIVIAS_

Plate IV. THE UNIVERSE]

Two works of non-theological tone and definitely scientific character
have been printed in her name. One of these was recently edited
under the title _Beatae Hildegardis causae et curae_.[20] A single
MS. only of this work is known to exist, and is now deposited in the
Royal Library of Copenhagen.[21] It is an ill-written document of the
thirteenth century, and the original work probably dates from this
period. It has none of the characteristics of the acknowledged work
of Hildegard, and indeed the only link with her name is the title,
which is written in a hand different from that of the text (Plate V
_a_). Nothing could be more unlike the ecstatic but well-ordered and
systematic work of the prophetess of Bingen than the prosy disorder
of the _Causae et curae_. Linguistically, also, it differs entirely
from the typical writings of Hildegard, for it is full of Germanisms,
which never interrupt the eloquence of her authentic works. Again,
Hildegard’s tendency to theoretical speculation, as for instance on
the nature of the elements or on the form of the Universe, finds no
place in the scrappy paragraphs of this apocryphal compilation.

[Illustration: Plate V a. OPENING LINES OF THE COPENHAGEN MS. OF THE
_CAUSAE ET CURAE_]

[Illustration: Plate V b. OPENING LINES OF THE LUCCA MS. OF THE _LIBER
DIVINORUM OPERUM SIMPLICIS HOMINIS_]

A second work, of somewhat similar character, is entitled _Subtilitatum
diversarumque creaturarum libri novem_. This is clearly a compilation,
and numerous passages in it can be traced to such sources as Pliny,
Walafrid Strabus, Marbod, Macer, the Physiologus, Isidore Hispalensis,
Constantine the African, and the _Regimen Sanitatis Salerni_, only the
last three of which exerted a traceable influence on the genuine works
of our authoress. Nevertheless this _Liber subtilitatum_ was early
printed as Hildegard’s work, along with a treatise attributed with
as little justification to another woman writer, Trotula, one of the
ladies of Salerno, whose name was also a household word in the Middle
Ages, and was freely attached to medical writings with which she had
little or nothing to do.[22] It is true that Hildegard’s contemporary
biographer, the monk Theodoric, assures us that she had written _De
natura hominis et elementorum, diversarumque creaturarum_,[23] but
there is nothing to suggest that the _Liber subtilitatum_ is intended
thereby.

The modern scholars Daremberg and Reuss have edited the _Liber
subtilitatum_ as Hildegard’s composition,[24] and the work attracted
the attention of Virchow,[25] but notwithstanding the authority of
these names, the objections which apply to the genuineness of the
_Causae et curae_ are also valid here:

(_a_) The _Liber subtilitatum_ is not included in the Wiesbaden Codex A.

(_b_) The phrase _De natura hominis et elementorum diversarumque
creaturarum_, used by Theodoric as a description and by Reuss as a
title,[26] would lead one to expect great emphasis on the nature of the
elements and their entry into the human frame. Such emphasis is not, in
fact, discoverable in the _Liber subtilitatum_, which, moreover, does
not treat of human anatomy or physiology.

(_c_) On the other hand, the genuine _Liber divinorum operum simplicis
hominis_ does lay stress on these points. This is possibly therefore
the work to which Theodoric refers, and to it his description certainly
applies well.

(_d_) As in the _Causae et curae_, there are linguistic difficulties
that prevent us attributing the _Liber subtilitatum_ to Hildegard.
Such, for instance, is the number of Germanisms as well as the marked
difference from the style and method of her acknowledged work.

(_e_) There are statements in the _Liber subtilitatum_ that can
scarcely be attributed to our authoress. Having largely explored the
Rhine basin, and corresponding constantly with writers beyond the Alps,
how could she possibly derive all rivers, Rhine and Danube, Meuse and
Moselle, Nahe and Glan, from the same lake (of Constance) as does the
author of the _Liber subtilitatum_?[27]

(_f_) Furthermore, although that spurious work has a chapter _De
elementis_, it reveals none of Hildegard’s most peculiar and definite
views as to their nature, origin, and fate,[28] nor does it refer to
the sphericity of the earth, to the vascular system of man, to the
humours and their relation to the winds and the elements, or to a dozen
other points on which, as we shall see, Hildegard had views of her own.

Before leaving the subject of Hildegard’s apocryphal works, brief
reference may be made to the _Speculum futurorum temporum,_ a
spurious production to which her name is often attached. It exists
in innumerable MSS., and has been frequently edited and translated.
It is the work of Gebeno, prior of Eberbach, who wrote it in 1220,
claiming that he extracted it from Hildegard’s writings. Another
work erroneously attributed to Hildegard is entitled _Revelatio de
fratribus quatuor mendicantium ordinum_, and is directed against
the four mendicant orders--Franciscans, Dominicans, Carmelites, and
Augustinians. It also has been printed, but is wholly spurious, and was
probably composed towards the latter part of the thirteenth century.


V. SOURCES OF HILDEGARD’S SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE

In the works of Hildegard we are dealing with the products of a
peculiarly original intellect, and her imaginative power and mystical
tendency make an exhaustive search into the origin of her ideas by
no means an easy task. With her theological standpoint, as such, we
are not here concerned, and unfortunately she does not herself refer
to any of her sources other than the Biblical books; to have cited
profane writers would indeed have involved the abandonment of her claim
that her knowledge was derived by immediate inspiration from on high.
Nevertheless it is possible to form some idea, on internal evidence, of
the origin of many of her scientific conceptions.

The most striking point concerning the sources of Hildegard is
negative. There is no German linguistic element distinguishable in
her writings, and they show little or no trace of native German
folk-lore.[29] It is true that Trithemius of Sponheim (1462-1516),
who is often a very inaccurate chronicler, tells us that Hildegard
‘composed works in German as well as in Latin, although she had
neither learned nor used the latter tongue except for simple
psalmody’.[30] But with the testimony before us of the writings
themselves and of her skilful use of Latin, the statement of Trithemius
and even the hints of Hildegard[31] may be safely discounted and set
down to the wish to magnify the element of inspiration.[32] So far
from her having been illiterate, we shall show that the structure and
details of her works betray a considerable degree of learning and
much painstaking study of the works of others. Thus, for instance,
she skilfully manipulates the Hippocratic doctrines of miasma and the
humours, and elaborates a theory of the interrelation of the two which,
though developed on a plan of her own, is yet clearly borrowed in its
broad outline from such a writer as Isidore of Seville. Again, as we
shall see, some of her ideas on anatomy seem to have been derived from
Constantine the African, who belonged to the Benedictine monastery of
Monte Cassino.[33]

Hildegard lived at rather too early a date to drink from the broad
stream of new knowledge that was soon to flow into Europe through
Paris from its reservoir in Moslem Spain. Such drops from that source
as may have reached her must have trickled in either from the earlier
Italian translators or from the Jews who had settled in the Upper
Rhineland, for it is very unlikely that she was influenced by the
earlier twelfth-century translations of Averroes, Avicenna, Avicebron,
and Avempace, that passed into France from the Jews of Marseilles,
Montpellier, and Andalusia.[34] Her intellectual field was thus far
more patristic than would have been the case had her life-course been
even a quarter of a century later.

Her science is primarily of the usual degenerate Greek type,
disintegrated fragments of Aristotle and Galen  and altered
by the customary mediaeval attempts to bring theory into line with
scriptural phraseology, though a high degree of independence is
obtained by the visionary form in which her views are set. She
exhibits, like all mediaeval writers on science, the Aristotelian
theory of the elements, but her statement of the doctrine is
illuminated by flashes of her own thoughts and is  by
suggestions from St. Augustine, Isidore Hispalensis, Bernard Sylvestris
of Tours, and perhaps from writings attributed to Boethius.

The translator Gerard of Cremona (1114-87) was her contemporary, and
his labours made available for western readers a number of scientific
works which had previously circulated only among Arabic-speaking
peoples.[35] Several of these works, notably Ptolemy’s _Almagest_,
Messahalah’s _De Orbe_, and the Aristotelian _De Caelo et Mundo_,
contain material on the form of the universe and on the nature of the
elements, and some of them probably reached the Rhineland in time to be
used by Hildegard. The _Almagest_, however, was not translated until
1175, and was thus inaccessible to Hildegard.[36] Moreover, as she
never uses an Arabic medical term, it is reasonably certain that she
did not consult Gerard’s translation of Avicenna, which is crowded with
Arabisms.

On the other hand, the influence of the Salernitan school may be
discerned in several of her scientific ideas. The _Regimen Sanitatis_
of Salerno, written about 1101, was rapidly diffused throughout Europe,
and must have reached the Rhineland at least a generation before the
_Liber Divinorum Operum_ was composed. This cycle of verses may well
have reinforced some of her microcosmic ideas,[37] and suggested also
her views on the generation of man,[38] on the effects of wind on
health,[39] and on the influence of the stars.[40]

On the subject of the form of the earth Hildegard expressed herself
definitely as a spherist,[41] a point of view more widely accepted
in the earlier Middle Ages than is perhaps generally supposed. She
considers in the usual mediaeval fashion that this globe is surrounded
by celestial spheres that influence terrestrial events.[42] But while
she claims that human affairs, and especially human diseases, are
controlled, under God, by the heavenly cosmos, she yet commits herself
to none of that more detailed astrological doctrine that was developing
in her time, and came to efflorescence in the following centuries.
In this respect she follows the earlier and somewhat more scientific
spirit of such writers as Messahalah, rather than the wilder theories
of her own age. The shortness and simplicity of Messahalah’s tract on
the sphere made it very popular. It was probably one of the earliest
to be translated into Latin; and its contents would account for the
change which, as we shall see, came over Hildegard’s scientific views
in her later years.

The general conception of the universe as a series of concentric
elemental spheres had certainly penetrated to Western Europe centuries
before Hildegard’s time. Nevertheless the prophetess presents it to her
audience as a new and striking revelation. We may thus suppose that
translations of Messahalah, or of whatever other work she drew upon
for the purpose, did not reach the Upper Rhineland, or rather did not
become accepted by the circles in which Hildegard moved, until about
the decade 1141-50, during which she was occupied in the composition of
her _Scivias_.

There is another cosmic theory, the advent of which to her country,
or at least to her circle, can be approximately dated from her work.
Hildegard exhibits in a pronounced but peculiar and original form
the doctrine of the macrocosm and microcosm. Hardly distinguishable
in the _Scivias_ (1141-50), it appears definitely in the _Liber
Vitae Meritorum_ (1158-62),[43] in which work, however, it takes no
very prominent place, and is largely overlaid and concealed by other
lines of thought. But in the _Liber Divinorum Operum_ (1163-70) this
belief is the main theme. The book is indeed an elaborate attempt to
demonstrate a similarity and relationship between the nature of the
Godhead, the constitution of the universe, and the structure of man,
and it thus forms a valuable compendium of the science of the day
viewed from the standpoint of this theory.

From whence did she derive the theory of macrocosm and microcosm? In
outline its elements were easily accessible to her in Isidore’s _De
Rerum Natura_ as well as in the Salernitan poems. But the work of
Bernard Sylvestris of Tours, _De mundi universitate sive megacosmus et
microcosmus_,[44] corresponds so closely both in form, in spirit, and
sometimes even in phraseology, to the _Liber Divinorum Operum_ that
it appears to us certain that Hildegard must have had access to it
also. Bernard’s work can be dated between the years 1145-53 from his
reference to the papacy of Eugenius III. This would correspond well
with the appearance of his doctrines in the _Liber Vitae Meritorum_
(1158-62) and their full development in the _Liber Divinorum Operum_
(1163-70).

Another contemporary writer with whom Hildegard presents points of
contact is Hugh of St. Victor (1095-1141).[45] In his writings the
doctrine of the relation of macrocosm and microcosm is more veiled than
with Bernard Sylvestris. Nevertheless, his symbolic universe is on the
lines of Hildegard’s belief, and the plan of his _De arca Noe mystica_
presents many parallels both to the _Scivias_ and to the _Liber
Divinorum Operum_. If these do not owe anything directly to Hugh, they
are at least products of the same mystical movement as were his works.

We may also recall that at Hildegard’s date very complex cabalistic
systems involving the doctrine of macrocosm and microcosm were being
elaborated by the Jews, and that she lived in a district where Rabbinic
mysticism specially flourished.[46] Benjamin of Tudela, who visited
Bingen during Hildegard’s lifetime, tells us that he found there a
congregation of his people. Since we know, moreover, that she was
familiar with the Jews,[47] it is possible that she may have derived
some of the very complex macrocosmic conceptions with which her last
work is crowded from local Jewish students.

The Alsatian Herrade de Landsberg (died 1195), a contemporary of
Hildegard, developed the microcosm theory along lines similar to those
of our abbess, and it is probable that the theory, in the form in which
these writers present it, reached the Upper Rhineland somewhere about
the middle or latter half of the twelfth century.

[Illustration: From the LUCCA MS. fo. 1 v

Plate VI. NOUS PERVADED BY THE GODHEAD AND CONTROLLING HYLE]

Apart from the Biblical books, the work which made the deepest
impression on Hildegard was probably Augustine’s _De Civitate Dei_,
which seems to form the background of a large part of the _Scivias_.
The books of Ezekiel and of Daniel, the Gospel of Nicodemus, the
Shepherd of Hermas, and the Apocalypse, all contain a lurid type of
vision which her own spiritual experiences would enable her to
utilize, and which fit in well with her microcosmic doctrines. Ideas on
the harmony and disharmony of the elements she may have picked up from
such works as the Wisdom of Solomon and the Pauline writings, though it
is obvious that Isidore of Seville and the _Regimen Sanitatis Salerni_
were also drawn upon by her.

[Illustration: From the LUCCA MS. fo. 9 r

Plate VII. NOUS PERVADED BY THE GODHEAD EMBRACING THE MACROCOSM WITH
THE MICROCOSM]

Her figure of the Church in the _Scivias_ reminds us irresistibly of
Boethius’ vision of the gracious feminine form of Philosophy. Again,
the visions of the punishments of Hell which Hildegard recounts in
the _Liber Vitae Meritorum_[48] bear resemblance to the work of her
contemporary Benedictine, the monk Alberic the younger of Monte
Cassino, to whom Dante also became indebted.[49]

Hildegard repeatedly assures us that most of her knowledge was revealed
to her in waking visions. Some of these we shall seek to show had a
pathological basis, probably of a migrainous character, and she was a
sufferer from a condition that would nowadays probably be classified
as hystero-epilepsy. Too much stress, however, can easily be laid on
the ecstatic presentment of her scientific views. Visions, it must
be remembered, were ‘the fashion’ at the period, and were a common
literary device. Her contemporary Benedictine sister, Elizabeth of
Schönau, as well as numerous successors, as for example Gertrude of
Robersdorf, adopted the same mechanism. The use of the vision for
this purpose remained popular for centuries, and we may say of these
writers, as Ampère says of Dante, that ‘the visions gave not the genius
nor the poetic inspiration, but the form merely in which they were
realized’.

The contemporaries of Hildegard who provide the closest analogy to
her are Elizabeth of Schönau (died 1165), whose visions are recounted
in her life by Eckbertus;[50] and Herrade de Landsberg, Abbess of
Hohenburg in Alsace, the priceless MS. of whose _Hortus Deliciarum_ was
destroyed by the Germans in the siege of Strasbourg in 1870.[51] With
Elizabeth of Schönau, who lived in her neighbourhood, Hildegard was in
frequent correspondence. With Herrade she had, so far as is known, no
direct communication; but the two were contemporary, lived not very far
apart, and under similar political and cultural conditions. Elizabeth’s
visions present some striking analogies to those of Hildegard, while
the figures of Herrade, of which copies have fortunately survived,
often suggest the illustrations of the Wiesbaden or of the Lucca MSS.


VI. THE STRUCTURE OF THE MATERIAL UNIVERSE

To the student of the history of science, Hildegard’s beliefs as to the
nature and structure of the universe are among the most interesting
that she has to impart. Her earlier theories are in some respects
unique among mediaeval writers, and we possess in the Wiesbaden Codex
B a diagram enabling us to interpret her views with a definiteness and
certainty that would otherwise be impossible.

Hildegard’s universe is geocentric, and consists of a spherical
earth,[52] around which are arranged a number of concentric shells or
zones. The inner zones are spherical, the outer oval, and the outermost
of all egg-shaped, with one end prolonged and more pointed than the
other (Fig. 2). The concentric structure is a commonplace of mediaeval
science, and is encountered, for instance, in the works of Bede,
Isidore, Alexander of Neckam, Roger Bacon, Albertus Magnus, and Dante.
To all these writers, however, the universe is spherical. The egg-shape
is peculiar to Hildegard. Many of the _Mappaemundi_ of the Beatus and
other types exhibit the _surface_ of the habitable earth itself as
oval, and it was from such charts that Hildegard probably gained her
conception of an oval universe. In her method of orientation also she
follows these maps, placing the east at the top of the page where we
are accustomed to place the north.[53]

It is unfortunate that she does not deal with geography in the
restricted sense, and so we are not in full possession of her views
on the antipodes, a subject of frequent derision to patristic and
of misconception to scholastic writers. She does, however, vaguely
refer to the inversion of seasons and climates in the opposite
hemisphere,[54] though she confuses the issue by the adoption of a
theory widespread in the Middle Ages and reproduced in the _Divina
Commedia_, that the antipodean surface of the earth is uninhabitable,
since it is either beneath the ocean or in the mouth of the Dragon[55]
(Plate XI, cp. Fig. 4). The nature of the antipodean inversion of
climates was clearly grasped by her contemporary, Herrade de Landsberg
(Fig. 5).

Hildegard’s views as to the internal structure of the terrestrial
sphere are also somewhat difficult to follow. Her obscure and confused
doctrine of Purgatory and Hell has puzzled other writers besides
ourselves,[56] nor need we consider it here, but she held that the
interior of the earth contained two vast spaces shaped like truncated
cones, where punishment was meted out and whence many evil things had
issue.[57] Her whole scheme presents analogies as well as contrasts
to that of her kindred spirit Dante.[58] Hildegard, however, who died
before the thirteenth century had dawned, presents us with a scheme far
less definite and elaborated than that of her great successor, who had
all the stores of the golden age of scholasticism on which to draw.

In Hildegard’s first diagram of the universe, which is of the nature
of an ‘optical section’, the world, the _sphaera elementorum_ of
Johannes Sacro Bosco and other mediaeval writers, is diagrammatically
represented as compounded of earth, air, fire, and water confusedly
mixed in what her younger contemporary, Alexander of Neckam
(1157-1217), calls ‘a certain concordant discord of the elements’. In
the illustrations to the Wiesbaden Codex B the four elements have each
a conventional method of representation, which appears again and again
in the different miniatures (Fig. 2 and Plates XII and XIII).

Around this world with its four elements is spread the atmosphere, the
_aer lucidus_ or _alba pellis_, diagrammatically represented, like
the earth which it enwraps, as circular. Through this _alba pellis_
no creature of earth can penetrate. Beyond are ranged in order four
further shells or zones. Each zone contains one of the cardinal
winds, and each cardinal wind is accompanied by two accessory winds,
represented in the traditional fashion by the breath of supernatural
beings.

Of the four outer zones the first is the _aer aquosus_, also round,
from which blows the east wind. In the outer part of the _aer aquosus_
float the clouds, and according as they contract or expand or are blown
aside, the heavenly bodies above are revealed or concealed.

Enwrapping the _aer aquosus_ is the _purus aether_, the widest of all
the zones. The long axis of this, as of the remaining outer shells,
is in the direction from east to west, thus determining the path of
movement of the heavenly bodies. Scattered through the _purus aether_
are the constellations of the fixed stars, and arranged along the long
axis are the moon and the two inner planets. From this zone blows the
west wind. The position and constitution of this _purus aether_ is
evidently the result of some misinterpretation of Aristotelian writings.

The next zone, the _umbrosa pellis_ or _ignis niger_, is a narrow dark
shell, whence proceed the more dramatic meteorological events. Here,
following on the hints of the Wisdom of Solomon (chap. v) and the Book
of Job (chap. xxxviii), are situated the diagrammatically portrayed
treasuries of lightning and of hail. From here the tempestuous north
wind bursts forth. This _ignis niger_ is clearly comparable to the _dry
earthy exhalation_ that works of the Peripatetic school regard as given
off by the outer fiery zone. The presence of the _ignis niger_ thus
suggests some contact on the part of the authoress with the teaching of
the _Meteorologica_ of Aristotle.[59]

The outermost layer of all is a mass of flames, the _lucidus ignis_.
Here are the sun and the three outer planets, and from here the south
wind pours its scorching breath (Fig. 2).

The movements of the four outer zones around each other, carrying
the heavenly bodies with them, are attributed to the winds in each
zone. The seasonal variations in the movements of the heavenly bodies,
along with the recurring seasons themselves, are also determined
by the prevalent winds, which, acting as the motive power upon the
various zones, form a celestial parallelogram of forces. In this way
is ingeniously explained also why in spring the days lengthen and in
autumn they shorten until in either case an equinox is reached (Fig. 2).

    ‘I looked and behold the east and the south wind with their
    collaterals, moving the firmament by the power of their breath,
    caused it to revolve over the earth from east to west; and in the
    same way the west and north winds and their collaterals, receiving
    the impulse and projecting their blast, thrust it back again from
    west to east....

    ‘I saw also that as the days began to lengthen, the south wind and
    his collaterals gradually raised the firmament in the southern
    zone upwards towards the north, until the days ceased to grow
    longer. Then when the days began to shorten, the north wind with
    his collaterals, shrinking from the brightness of the sun, drove
    the firmament back gradually southward until by reason of the
    lengthening days the south wind began yet again to raise it up’[60]
    (Plates VII and VIII).

Intimately bound up not only with her theory of the nature and
structure of the universe but also with her eschatological beliefs
is Hildegard’s doctrine of the elements. Before the fall of man
these were arranged in a harmony,[61] which was disturbed by that
catastrophe (Plate XII _a_),[62] so that they have since remained in
the state of mingled confusion in which we always encounter them on the
terrestrial globe. This _mistio_, to use the mediaeval Aristotelian
term, is symbolized by the irregular manner in which the elements are
represented in the central sphere of the diagram of the universe (Fig.
2). Thus mingled they will remain until subjected to the melting-pot of
the Last Judgement (Plate XIII),[63] when they will emerge in a new
and eternal harmony, no longer mixed as matter, but separate and pure,
parts of the new heaven and the new earth (Plate XII _b_).[64]

    ‘But the heavens and the earth, which are now,... are kept in
    store and reserved unto fire against the day of judgment and
    perdition of ungodly men.... But the day of the Lord will come ...
    in the which the heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and
    the elements shall melt with fervent heat, the earth also and the
    works that are therein shall be burned up.... Nevertheless we,
    according to his promise, look for new heavens and a new earth,
    wherein dwelleth righteousness’ (2 Peter iii. 7, 10, and 13).

So Hildegard, acting on a scriptural hint, is enabled to dematerialize
her doctrine of the after-things.

But although since man’s fall the elements have lost their order and
their harmony on this terrestrial orb, yet is that harmony still in
part preserved in the celestial spheres that encircle and surround
our globe; and water, air, earth, and fire have each their respective
representatives in the four concentric zones, the _aer aquosus_, the
_purus aether_, the _umbrosa pellis_, and the _lucidus ignis_ (Fig.
2). These are the ‘superior elements’ which still retain some at least
of their individuality and primal purity. From each of their spheres
blows, as we have seen, one of the cardinal winds, and each wind
partakes of the elemental character of the zone whence it issues, and
has a corresponding influence on man’s body, since each of the four
humours is specifically affected by the element to which it corresponds.

    ‘Then I saw that by the diverse quality of the winds, and of the
    atmosphere as they in turn sweep through it, the humours in man
    are agitated and altered. For in each of the superior elements
    there is a breath of corresponding quality by which, through the
    power of the winds, the corresponding element [below] is forced to
    revolve in the atmosphere, and in no other way is it moved. And by
    one of those winds, with the agency of sun, moon, and stars, the
    atmosphere which tempers the world is breathed forth’[65] (Plate
    VII).

This doctrine of the relation of the various winds to the four elements
and through them to the four humours is found in the _De Rerum Natura_
of Isidore of Seville, and is occasionally illustrated in European
MSS. from the ninth century onward,[66] but we meet it set forth with
special definiteness in the twelfth century in the translations from
Messahalah. It is encountered also in the work of Herrade de Landsberg.
In and after the thirteenth century it had become a commonplace.

The description we have given of the universe was in the main set
forth by Hildegard in her first work, the _Scivias_ (1141-50).[67]
Subsequently she became dissatisfied with the account she had given,
and while not withdrawing it, she sought in the _Liber Divinorum
Operum_ (1163-70) so to modify the original presentment as to bring
it more into line with accepted views. Thus she writes: ‘There
appeared to me in vision a _disk_ very like that object which I saw
twenty-eight years ago of the form of an _egg_, in the third vision
of my book _Scivias_. In the outer part of the disk there was as it
were the _lucidus ignis_, and beneath it the circle of the _ignis
niger_ was portrayed ... and these two circles were so joined as to
be one circle.’ There was thus one outer zone representing the fire.
‘Under the circle of the _ignis niger_ there was another circle in the
likeness of the _purus aether_ which was of the same width as the two
conjoined [outer] fiery circles. And below this circle again was the
circle of the _aer aquosus_ as wide as the _lucidus ignis_. And below
this circle was yet another circle, the _fortis et albus lucidusque
aer_ ... the width whereof was as the width of the _ignis niger_, and
these circles were joined to make one circle which was thus again of
width equal to the outer two. Again, under this last circle yet another
circle, the _aer tenuis_, was distinguishable, which could be seen to
raise itself as a cloud, sometimes high and light, sometimes depressed
and dark, and to diffuse itself as it were throughout the whole
disk.... The outermost fiery circle perfuses the other circles with its
fire, while the watery circle saturates them with its moisture, [cp.
Wisdom of Solomon, xix. 18-20]. And from the extreme eastern part of
the disk to the extreme west a line is stretched out [i.e. the equator]
which separates the northern zones from the others’[68] (see Fig. 3 and
Plates VII and VIII).

[Illustration: Fig. 3. HILDEGARD’S SECOND SCHEME OF THE UNIVERSE

Reconstructed from her measurements. AB, CD, and EF are all equal to
each other, as are also GH, HK, and KL. The clouds are situated in the
outer part of the _aer tenuis_, and form a prolongation downwards from
the _aer aquosus_ towards the earth.]

The earth lies concentrically with the _aer tenuis_, and its
measurements are given thus: ‘In the midst of the _aer tenuis_ a globe
was indicated, the circumference of which was everywhere equidistant
from the _fortis et albus lucidusque aer_, and it was as far across
as the depth of the space from the top of the highest circle to the
extremity of the clouds, or from the extremity of the clouds to the
circumference of the inner globe’[68] (Fig. 3).

In her earlier work, the _Scivias_, Hildegard had not apparently
realized the need of accounting for the independent movements of the
planets other than the sun and moon. She had thus placed the moon
and two of the moving stars in the _purus aether_, and the sun and
the three remaining moving stars in the _lucidus ignis_. Since these
spheres were moved by the winds, their contained planets would be
subject to the same influences. In the _Liber Divinorum Operum_,
however, she has come to realize how independent the movements of the
planets really are, and she invokes a special cause for their vagaries.
‘I looked and behold in the outer fire (_lucidus ignis_) there appeared
a circle which girt about the whole firmament from the east westward.
From it a blast produced a movement from west to east in the opposite
direction to the movement of the firmament. But this blast did not give
forth his breath earthward as did the other winds, but instead thereof
it governed the course of the planets.’[69] The source of the blast is
represented in the Lucca MS. as the head of a supernatural being with a
human face (Plate VIII).

[Illustration: From the LUCCA MS. fo. 27 v

Plate VIII. THE MACROCOSM THE MICROCOSM AND THE WINDS]

[Illustration: Plate IX. From THE LUCCA MS fo. 37 r

CELESTIAL INFLUENCES ON MEN ANIMALS AND PLANTS]

These curious passages were written at some date after 1163, when
Hildegard was at least 65 years old. They reveal our prophetess
attempting to revise much of her earlier theory of the universe,
and while seeking to justify her earlier views, endeavouring also to
bring them into line with the new science that was now just beginning
to reach her world. Note that (_a_) the universe has become round;
(_b_) there is an attempt to arrange the zones according to their
density, i.e. from without inwards, fire, air (ether), water, earth;
(_c_) exact measurements are given; (_d_) the watery zone is continued
earthward so as to mingle with the central circle. In all these and
other respects she is joining the general current of mediaeval science
then beginning to be moulded by works translated from the Arabic.
Her knowledge of the movements of the heavenly bodies is entirely
innocent of the doctrine of epicycles, but in other respects her
views have come to resemble those, for instance, of Messahalah, one
of the simplest and easiest writers on the sphere available in her
day. Furthermore, her conceptions have developed so as to fit in with
the macrocosm-microcosm scheme which she grasped about the year 1158.
Even in her latest work, however, her theory of the universe exhibits
differences from that adopted by the schoolmen, as may be seen by
comparing her diagram with, for example, the scheme of Dante (Fig. 4).

[Illustration: Fig. 4. DANTE’S SCHEME OF THE UNIVERSE

Slightly modified from Michelangelo Caetani, duca di Sermoneta, _La
materia della Divina Commedia di Dante Allighieri dichiarata in VI
tavole_, Monte Cassino, 1855.]

Like many mediaeval writers, Hildegard would have liked to imagine an
ideal state of the elemental spheres in which the rarest, fire, was
uppermost, and the densest, earth, undermost. Such a scheme was, in
fact, purveyed by Bernard Sylvestris and by Messahalah. Her conceptions
were however disturbed by the awkward facts that water penetrated
below the earth, and indeed sought the lowest level, while air and not
water lay immediately above the earth’s surface. Mediaeval writers
adopted various devices and expended a great amount of ingenuity in
dealing with this discrepancy, which was a constant source of obscurity
and confusion. Hildegard devotes much space and some highly involved
allegory both in the _Scivias_ and in the _Liber Divinorum Operum_ to
the explanation of the difficulty, while Dante himself wrote a treatise
in high scholastic style on this very subject.[70]

[Illustration: Plate X. A CRUCIFIX IN THE UFFIZI GALLERY

About the middle of the XIIIth Century.]


VII. MACROCOSM AND MICROCOSM

The winds and elements of the outer universe, the macrocosm, become in
Hildegard’s later schemes intimately related to structures and events
within the body of man himself, the microcosm, the being around whom
the universe centres. The terms _macrocosm_ and _microcosm_ are not
employed by her, but in her last great work, the _Liber Divinorum
Operum_, she succeeds in most eloquent and able fashion in synthesizing
into one great whole, centred around this doctrine, her theological
beliefs and her physiological knowledge, together with her conceptions
of the working of the human mind and of the structure of the universe.
The work is thus an epitome of the science of the time viewed through
the distorting medium of this theory. In studying it the modern reader
is necessarily hampered by the bizarre and visionary form into which
the whole subject is cast. Nevertheless the scheme, though complex
and difficult, is neither incoherent nor insane, as at first sight it
may seem. On the contrary, it is a highly systematic and skilful
presentment of a cosmic theory which for centuries dominated scientific
thought.

As an explanation of the complexity of existence which thinkers of all
ages have sought to bring within the range of some simple formula, this
theory of the essential similarity of macrocosm and microcosm held in
the Middle Ages, during the Renaissance, and even into quite modern
times, a position comparable to that of the theory of evolution in our
own age. If at times it passed into folly and fantasy, it should be
remembered that it also fulfilled a high purpose. It gave a meaning
to the facts of nature and a formula to the naturalist, it unified
philosophic systems, it exercised the ingenuity of theologians, and
gave a convenient framework to prophecy, while it seemed to illumine
history and to provide a key and meaning to life itself. Even now it
is not perhaps wholly devoid of message, but as a phenomenon in the
history of human thought, a theory which appealed to such diverse
scientific writers as Seneca, Albertus Magnus, Paracelsus, Gilbert,
Harvey, Boyle, and Leibnitz, is surely worthy of attention.

In essaying to interpret the views of our authoress on this difficult
subject, we rely mainly on the text of the _Liber Divinorum Operum_,
supplemented by the beautiful illuminations of that work which adorn
the Lucca MS. The book opens with a truly remarkable vision (Plate VI):

    ‘I saw a fair human form and the countenance thereof was of such
    beauty and brightness that it had been easier to gaze upon the
    sun. The head thereof was girt with a golden circlet through which
    appeared another face as of an aged man. From the neck of the
    figure on either side sprang a pinion which swept upward above the
    circlet and joined its fellow on high. And where on the right the
    wing turned upward, was portrayed an eagle’s head with eyes of
    flame, wherein appeared as in a mirror the lightning of the angels,
    while from a man’s head in the other wing the lightning of the
    stars did radiate. From either shoulder another wing reached to the
    knees. The figure was robed in brightness as of the sun, while the
    hands held a lamb shining with light. Beneath, the feet trampled a
    horrible black monster of revolting shape, upon the right ear of
    which a writhing serpent fixed itself.’[71]

[Illustration: From the LUCCA MS. fo. 86 v

Plate XI. THE STRUCTURE OF THE MUNDANE SPHERE]

The image declares its identity in words reminiscent of the Wisdom
literature or of passages in the hermetic writings, but which seem in
fact to be partly borrowed from Bernard Sylvestris.

    ‘I am that supreme and fiery force that sends forth all the sparks
    of life. Death hath no part in me, yet do I allot it, wherefore I
    am girt about with wisdom as with wings. I am that living and fiery
    essence of the divine substance that glows in the beauty of the
    fields. I shine in the water, I burn in the sun and the moon and
    the stars. Mine is that mysterious force of the invisible wind. I
    sustain the breath of all living. I breathe in the verdure and in
    the flowers, and when the waters flow like living things, it is I.
    I formed those columns that support the whole earth.... I am the
    force that lies hid in the winds, from me they take their source,
    and as a man may move because he breathes so doth a fire burn but
    by my blast. All these live because I am in them and am of their
    life. I am wisdom. Mine is the blast of the thundered word by which
    all things were made. I permeate all things that they may not die.
    I am life.’[72]

[Illustration: WIESB. COD. B. fo. 4 r

Plate XIIa. MAN’S FALL AND THE DISTURBANCE OF THE ELEMENTAL HARMONY]

[Illustration: WIESB. COD. B. fo. 224 v

Plate XIIb. THE NEW HEAVEN AND THE NEW EARTH]

Hildegard thus supposes that the whole universe is permeated by a
single living spirit, the figure of the vision. This spirit of the
macrocosm, the _Nous_ or ‘world spirit’ of the hermetic and Neoplatonic
literature, the impersonated _Nature_, as we may perhaps render it,
is in its turn controlled by the Godhead that pervades the form and
is represented rising from its vertex as a second human face. Nature,
the spirit of the cosmic order, controls and holds in subjection the
hideous monster, the principle of death and dissolution, the _Hyle_
or primordial matter of the Neoplatonists, whose chaotic and anarchic
force would shatter and destroy this fair world unless fettered by a
higher power.

With the details of the visionary figure we need not delay,[73] but
we pass to the description of the structure of the macrocosm itself,
to which the second vision is devoted (Plate VII). Here appears the
same figure of the macrocosmic spirit. But now the head and feet
only are visible, and the arms are outstretched to enclose the disk
of the universe which conceals the body. Although the macrocosm now
described is considerably altered from Hildegard’s original scheme
of the universe, she yet declares, ‘I saw in the bosom of the form
the appearance of a disk of like sort to that which twenty-eight
years before I had seen in the third vision, set forth in my book of
_Scivias_’.[74] The zones of this disk are then described (Plates VII,
VIII, and XI and Fig. 2). They are from without inwards:

  (_a_) The _lucidus ignis_, containing the three outer planets, the
        sixteen principal fixed stars, and the south wind.

  (_b_) The _ignis niger_, containing the sun, the north wind, and the
        materials of thunder, lightning, and hail.

  (_c_) The _purus aether_, containing the west wind, the moon, the two
        inner planets, and certain fixed stars.

  (_d_) The _aer aquosus_, containing the east wind.

  (_e_) The _fortis et albus lucidusque aer_, where certain other fixed
        stars are placed.

  (_f_) The _aer tenuis_, or atmosphere, in the outer part of which is
        the zone of the clouds.

From all these objects, from the spheres of the elements, from the
sun, moon, and other planets, from the four winds each with their
two collaterals, from the fixed stars, and from the clouds, descend
influences, indicated by lines, towards the figure of the macrocosm.

The microcosm is then introduced.

    ‘And again I heard the voice from heaven saying, “God, who created
    all things, wrought also man in his own image and similitude, and
    in him he traced [_signavit_] all created things, and he held him
    in such love that he destined him for the place from which the
    fallen angel had been cast.”’[75]

The various characters of the winds are expounded in a set of curious
passages in which the doctrine of the macrocosm and microcosm is
further mystically elaborated. An endeavour is made to attribute to
the winds derived from the different quarters of heaven qualities
associated with a number of animals.[76] The conception is illustrated
and made comprehensible by the miniatures in the Lucca MS. (Plates VII
and VIII).

    ‘In the middle of the disk [of the universe] there appeared the
    form of a man, the crown of whose head and the soles of whose feet
    extended to the _fortis et albus lucidusque aer_, and his hands
    were outstretched right and left to the same circle.... Towards
    these parts was an appearance as of four heads; a leopard, a wolf,
    a lion, and a bear. Above the head of the figure in the zone of the
    _purus aether_, I saw the head of the leopard emitting a blast from
    its mouth, and on the right side of the mouth the blast, curving
    itself somewhat backwards, was formed into a crab’s head ... with
    two chelae; while on the left side of the mouth a blast similarly
    curved ended in a stag’s head. From the mouth of the crab’s head,
    another blast went to the middle of the space between the leopard
    and the lion; and from the stag’s head a similar blast to the
    middle of the space between the leopard and the bear ... and all
    the heads were breathing towards the figure of the man. Under his
    feet in the _aer aquosus_ there appeared as it were the head of a
    wolf, sending forth to the right a blast extending to the middle
    of the half space between its head and that of the bear, where it
    assumed the form of the stag’s head; and from the stag’s mouth
    there came, as it were, another breath which ended in the middle
    line. From the left of the wolf’s mouth arose a breath which went
    to the midst of the half space between the wolf and the lion, where
    was depicted another crab’s head ... from whose mouth another
    breath ended in the same middle line.... And the breath of all the
    heads extended sideways from one to another.... Moreover on the
    right hand of the figure in the _lucidus ignis_, from the head of
    the lion, issued a breath which passed laterally on the right into
    a serpent’s head and on the left into a lamb’s head ... similarly
    on the figure’s left in the _ignis niger_ there issued a breath
    from the bear’s head ending on its right in the head of [another]
    lamb, and on its left in another serpent’s head.... And above the
    head of the figure the seven planets were ranged in order, three
    in the _lucidus ignis_, one projecting into the _ignis niger_ and
    three into the _purus aether_.... And in the circumference of the
    circle of the _lucidus ignis_ there appeared the sixteen principal
    stars, four in each quadrant between the heads.... Also the _purus
    aether_ and _the fortis et albus lucidusque aer_ seemed to be full
    of stars which sent forth their rays towards the clouds, whence ...
    tongues like rivers descended to the disk and towards the figure,
    which was thus surrounded and influenced by these signs.’[77]

The third vision is devoted to an account of the human body, the
microcosm (Plate VIII), with a comparison of its organs to the parts of
the macrocosmic scheme, together with a detailed account of the effects
of the heavenly bodies on the humours in man, the whole brought into a
strongly theological setting. Some of these views are set forth below
in the chapter on anatomy and physiology.

The fourth vision explains the influence of the heavenly bodies and
of the superior elements on the power of nature as exhibited on the
surface of the earth. It is illustrated by a charming miniature in the
Lucca MS. (Plate IX).

‘I saw that the upper fiery firmament was stirred, so that as it were
ashes were cast therefrom to earth, and they produced rashes and ulcers
in men and animals and fruits.’ These effects are shown in the left
upper quadrant of Plate IX, where the ashes are seen proceeding from
the _lucidus ignis_, the ‘upper fiery firmament’. Two figures are seen,
a female semi-recumbent, who lifts a fruit to her mouth, and a male
figure fully recumbent, on whose legs a rash is displayed. The trees
also in this quadrant show the effects of the ashes, two of them being
denuded of fruit and foliage.

‘Then I saw that from the _ignis niger_ certain vapours (_nebulae_)
descended, which withered the verdure and dried up the moisture of the
fields. The _purus aether_, however, resisted these ashes and vapours,
seeking to hold back these plagues.’ These vapours may be seen in
the right upper quadrant of Plate IX. They descend from the _ignis
niger_, attenuate for a space in the _purus aether_, and then descend
through the other zones on to an arid and parched land. Here are two
husbandmen; one sits forlornly clasping his axe, while the other leans
disconsolately upon his hoe. On the legs of the latter a rash may be
distinguished.

‘And looking again I saw that from the _fortis et albus lucidusque aer_
certain other clouds reached the earth and infected men and beasts with
sore pestilence, so that they were subjected to many ills even to the
death, but the _aer aquosus_ opposed that influence so that they were
not hurt beyond measure.’ This scene is portrayed in the right lower
quadrant of Plate IX. Here is a husbandman in mortal anguish. He has
gathered his basket of fruit and now lies stricken with the pestilence.
His left hand is laid on his heart, while his right hangs listless on
his thigh, pointing to tokens of plague upon his legs. Beyond lies the
dead body of a beast on which a carrion bird has settled.

‘Again I saw that the moisture in the _aer tenuis_ was as it were
boiling above the surface of the earth, awakening the force of the
earth and making fruits to grow.’[78] This happier scene is represented
in the left lower quadrant of Plate IX. Here the beneficent fertilizing
influence is falling on trees and herbs and the happy husbandmen are
reaping its results.

[Illustration: From WIESBADEN CODEX B fo. 224 r

Plate XIII. THE LAST JUDGEMENT AND FATE OF THE ELEMENTS]

The main outline of the _Liber Divinorum Operum_ is, we believe,
borrowed from the work of Bernard Sylvestris of Tours, _De mundi
universitate libri duo sive megacosmus et microcosmus_.[79] In this
composition by a teacher at the cathedral school of Chartres,[80] the
gods and goddesses of the classical pantheon flit across the stage,
for all the world as though the writer were a pagan, and the work
might be thought to be the last one from which our pious authoress
would borrow. The _De mundi universitate_ is alternately in prose
and verse and betrays an acquaintance with the classics very rare at
its date. ‘The rhythm of the hexameters is clearly that of Lucan,
while the vocabulary is mainly of Ovid.’[81] The mythology is founded
mainly on the _Timaeus_. The eternal _seminaria_ of created things are
mentioned, and it has been conjectured that the work exhibits traces
of the influence of Lucretius,[82] but the general line of thought is
clearly related to Neoplatonic literature. Thus the _anima universalis_
of Neoplatonic writings can be identified with the _Nous_ or _Noys_
of Bernard. This principle is contrasted with primordial matter or
_Hyle_. The parallel character of the _Liber Divinorum Operum_ and
the _De mundi universitate_ can be illustrated by a few extracts from
the latter. It will be seen that although the general setting is
changed, yet Hildegard’s figure of the spirit of the macrocosm is to be
identified with Bernard’s _Noys_. _Hyle_, on the other hand, becomes
in Hildegard’s plan the monstrous form, the emblem of brute matter, on
which the spirit of the universe tramples.

[Illustration: From BIBL. NAT. MS. LAT. 5543 fo. 136 r

Plate XIV. DIAGRAM OF THE RELATION OF HUMAN AND COSMIC PHENOMENA IXth
Century]

    ‘In huius operis primo libro qui Megacosmus dicitur, id est
    maior mundus, Natura ad Noym, id est Dei providentiam, de primae
    materiae, id est hyles, confusione querimoniam quasi cum lacrimis
    agit et ut mundus pulchrius petit. Noys igitur eius mota precibus
    petitioni libenter annuit et ita quatuor elementa ab invicem
    seiungit. Novem ierarchias angelorum in coelo ponit. stellas
    in firmamento figit. signa disponit. sub signis orbes septem
    planetarum currere facit. quatuor ventos cardinales sibi invicem
    opponit. Sequitur genesis animantium et terrae situs medius....

    ‘In secundo libro qui Microcosmus dicitur, id est minor mundus,
    Noys ad Naturam loquitur et de mundi expolitione gloriatur et in
    operis sui completione se hominem plasmaturam pollicetur. Iubet
    igitur Uraniam, quae siderum regina est, et Physin, quae rerum
    omnium est peritissima, sollicite perquirat. Natura protinus
    iubenti obsequitur et per caelestes circulos Uraniam quaeritans eam
    sideribus inhiantem reperit. eiusque itineris causa praecognita
    se operis et itineris comitem Urania pollicetur.... Subitoque ibi
    Noys affuit suoque velle eis ostenso trinas speculationes tribus
    assignando tribuit & ad hominis plasmationem eas impellit. Physis
    igitur de quatuor elementorum reliquiis hominem format et a capite
    incipiens membratim operando opus suum in pedibus consummat....

    ‘Noys ego scientia et divinae voluntatis arbitraria ad
    dispositionem rerum, quem ad modum de consensu eius accipio, sic
    meae administrationis officia circumduco....

    ‘(Noys) erat fons luminis, seminarium vitae, bonum bonitatis
    divinae, plenitude scientiae quae mens altissimi nominatur. Ea
    igitur noys summi & exsuperantissimi Dei est intellectus et ex
    eius divinitate nata natura.... Erat igitur videre velut in
    speculo tersiore quicquid generationi quicquid operi Dei secretior
    destinarat affectus.’[83]

Hildegard’s conception of macrocosm and microcosm, which was thus
probably borrowed from Bernard Sylvestris, has analogies also to those
well-known figures illustrating the supposed influence of the signs of
the zodiac on the different parts of the body.[84] Such figures, with
the zodiacal symbols arranged around a figure of Christ, may be seen
in certain MSS. anterior to Hildegard,[85] while the influence of the
‘Melothesia’, to give it the name assigned by Porphyry, has been traced
through its period of efflorescence at the Renaissance (Plates XV,[86]
XVI,[87] and XVII,[88] compare with Plates VII and VIII) right down
to our own age and country, where it still appeals to the ignorant and
foolish.[89]

Hildegard often interprets natural events by means of a peculiarly
crude form of the doctrine, as when she describes how ‘if the excess of
waters below are drawn up to the clouds (by the just judgment of God
in the requital of sinners), then the moisture from the _aer aquosus_
transudes through the _fortis et albus lucidusque aer_ as a draught
drunk into the urinary bladder; and the same waters descend in an
inundation’.[90]

Again, events in the body of man are most naively explained on the
basis of the nature of the external world as she has pictured it.

    ‘The humours at times rage fiercely as a leopard and again they are
    softened, going backwards as a crab;[91] or they may show their
    diversity by leaping and goring as a stag, or they may be as a
    wolf in their ravening, and yet again they may invade the body of
    man after the manner of both wolf and crab. Or else they may show
    forth their strength unceasingly as a lion, or as a serpent they
    may go now softly, now violently, and at times they may be gentle
    as a lamb and at times again they may growl as an angered bear,
    and at times they may partake of the nature of the lamb and of the
    serpent.’[92]

Having completed her general survey of the macrocosm (Vision II),
and having investigated in detail the structure of man’s body, the
microcosm, in terms of the greater universe (Vision III), and discussed
the influence of the heavenly bodies on terrestrial events (Vision IV),
Hildegard turns to the internal structure of the terrestrial sphere
(Vision V). This vision is illustrated by the figure in the Lucca MS.
reproduced in Plate XI.

[Illustration: Fig. 5. From Herrade de Landsberg’s _Hortus deliciarum_,
after Straub and Keller.]

Upon the surface of the earth towards the east stands the building
which symbolizes the _aedificium_ of the church, a favourite conception
of our authoress. This church is surmounted by a halo, whence proceed
a pair of pinions which extend their shelter over a full half of the
earth’s circumference. As for the rest of the earth’s surface, part
is within the wide-opened jaws of a monster, the Destroyer, and the
remainder is beneath the surface of the ocean. Within the earth are
five parts analogous, as she would have us believe, to the five senses.
An eastern clear arc and a western clouded one signify respectively
the excellence of the orient where Zion is situated, and the Cimmerian
darkness of the occidental regions over which the shadow of the
dragon is cast. Centrally is a quadrate area divided into three zones
where the qualities of heat and cold and of a third intermediate
‘temperateness’ (_temperies_) are stored. North and south of this are
two areas where purgatory is situate. Each is shaped like a truncated
cone and composed also of three sectors. Souls are seen suffering in
one sector the torment of flame, in another the torment of water, while
in the third or intermediate sector lurk monsters and creeping
things which add to the miseries of purgatory or at times come forth to
earth’s surface to plague mankind. These northern and southern sections
exhibit dimly by their identically reversed arrangement the belief in
the antipodean inversion of climate, an idea hinted several times in
Hildegard’s writings, but more definitely illustrated by a figure of
Herrade de Landsberg (Fig. 5).

[Illustration: From BIBL. NAT. MS. LAT. 7028 fo. 154 r

Plate XV. AN XIth CENTURY FRENCH MELOTHESIA]

[Illustration: From BIBL. NAT. MS. LAT. 11229 fo. 45 v

Plate XVI. A MELOTHESIA OF ABOUT 1400]

[Illustration: From the _SYMBOLUM APOSTOLICORUM_

Plate XVII. A GERMAN BLOCK BOOK

First Half of XVth Century. Heidelberg University Library]

[Illustration: From BODLEIAN MS. ASHMOLE 399 fo. 18 r

Plate XVIII. AN ANATOMICAL DIAGRAM OF ABOUT 1298

From the Five-Figure Series. Cp. Plate XXXIII]

[Illustration: Fig. 6.]

[Illustration: Fig. 7.

MELOTHESIAE

From R. Fludd, _Historia utriusque cosmi_, Oppenheim, 1619, pp. 112 and
113.]

[Illustration: Fig. 8. THE MICROCOSM

From R. Fludd, _Philosophia sacra seu astrologia cosmica_, Frankfurt,
1628, p. 52.]

Macrocosmic schemes of the type illustrated by the text of Hildegard
and by the figures of the Lucca MS. had a great vogue in mediaeval
times, and were passed on to later ages. Some passages in Hildegard’s
work read curiously like Paracelsus (1491-1541),[93] and it is not
hard to find a link between these two difficult and mystical writers.
Trithemius, the teacher of Paracelsus, was abbot of Sponheim, an
important settlement almost within sight of Hildegard’s convents on the
Rupertsberg and Disibodenberg. Trithemius studied Hildegard’s writings
with great care and attached much importance to them, so that they may
well have influenced his pupil. The influence of mediaeval theories of
the relation of macrocosm and microcosm is encountered among numerous
Renaissance writers besides Paracelsus, and is presented to us, for
instance, by such a cautious, balanced, and scientifically-minded
humanist as Fracastor. But as the years went on, the difficulty in
applying the details of the theory became ever greater and greater.
Facts were strained and mutilated more and more to make them fit the
Procrustean bed of an outworn theory, which at length became untenable
when the heliocentric system of Copernicus and Galileo replaced the
geocentric and anthropocentric systems of an earlier age. The idea
of a close parallelism between the structure of man and of the wider
universe was gradually abandoned by the scientific, while among the
unscientific it degenerated and became little better than an insane
obsession. As such it appears in the ingenious ravings of the English
follower of Paracelsus, the Rosicrucian, Robert Fludd, who reproduced,
often with fidelity, the systems which had some novelty five centuries
before his time (Figs. 6, 7, and 8). As a similar fantastic obsession
this once fruitful hypothesis still occasionally appears even in modern
works of learning and industry.[94]


VIII. ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY

Hildegard’s ideas on these subjects are set out in the fourth vision
of the _Liber Divinorum Operum_, which is devoted to a description of
man’s body according to the macrocosmic scheme. This setting makes her
account by no means easy to read, while it increases the difficulty of
tracing the origin of her views.

The list of works containing anatomical descriptions available to a
German writer in the early Middle Ages is not long. Avicenna was hardly
yet accessible, and only such scraps of Galen as appear in Constantine
and the Salernitans. The available works may be enumerated thus:

  (_a_) The short _Anatomia porci_ of Copho of Salerno, dating from
        about 1085.[95]

  (_b_) An anonymous Salernitan anatomy,[96] written about 1100 and
        largely based on Copho and Constantine.

  (_c_) The _Liber de humana natura_ of Constantine the African,
        written probably between 1070 and 1085 at Monte Cassino.[97]

  (_d_) Constantine’s _De communibus medico cognitu necessariis locis_,
        written about the same time as the above.[98] This work is in
        four books, of which the second, third, and fourth are devoted
        to anatomy and physiology.

  (_e_) Here may be placed also Constantine’s translation of the
        _Viaticum_ of Isaac Judeus. Both these latter works of
        Constantine are long and technical, and designed for the use of
        the trained physician.

In addition to these there was in the Middle Ages a definite anatomic
tradition, which expressed itself constantly in:

  (_f_) A series of five anatomical diagrams representing respectively
        the arteries, veins, bones, nerves, and muscles[99] (see Plate
        XXXIII, opposite page 92 of the present volume). These diagrams
        were copied in the most servile fashion for centuries, and
        something very like them has remained in use to this day in
        Tibet.[100] The versions, whether in Persia or England, in
        Germany or Italy, were remarkably uniform.

  (_g_) In several MSS. there has been found attached to these
        remarkable diagrams a short text describing the five systems,
        arteries, veins, nerves, bones, and muscles. This text,
        however, purporting to be from Galen, has little relation to
        the figures, which it does not really explain, and it should
        therefore be regarded as a separate work.[101]

[Illustration: From WIESBADEN CODEX B fo. 22 r

Plate XIX. BIRTH. THE ARRIVAL AND TRIALS OF THE SOUL]

[Illustration: From WIESBADEN CODEX B fo. 25 r

Plate XX. DEATH. THE DEPARTURE AND FATE OF THE SOUL]

Of these seven sources it appears to us that (_c_) and (_f_)--the short
_De humana natura_ of Constantine, and the five-figure series--are
those on which Hildegard drew. The absence of Arabisms and the
scarcity of technical anatomical terms in her writings, her failure to
distinguish between veins and arteries, the absence of anything of the
nature of myology or osteology, together with the neglect of the spinal
marrow as an important organ, make it very unlikely that she consulted
Constantine’s longer works or the Salernitan authorities or the text of
the five-figure series. Her anatomical descriptions resemble those of
Constantine’s shorter work, on the other hand, in the description of
the three vesicles of the brain and their relations to the faculties
of the mind, in the treatment of the five senses, in the view of
the influence of the planets on the child and the emphasis laid on
epilepsy, as well as in the absence of any distinction between arteries
and veins, and in the loose doctrines of the humours and of the causes
of deformities and monstrosities. In some of these respects also her
account of the human body presents points of resemblance to the _De
hominis membris ac partibus_ of Hugh of St. Victor,[102] with whom,
however, her contact appears to be less close than with Constantine.

We may infer that Hildegard had consulted anatomical diagrams and was
accustomed to this method of representing the organs from a passage
descriptive of the microcosm, in which she says that ‘in the mouth of
the figure in whose body was the disk, I saw a light brighter than
the light of day, in the form of threads, some circular, some in
other geometrical forms, and some shaped like human members belonging
to the figure, which was clearly portrayed on the disk upright and
accurately limned’.[103] These ‘circles and geometrical figures’ fairly
describe the highly diagrammatic manner in which the five-figure series
represents the internal organs, and several points suggest that she
does indeed refer to this series. Her description of the abdominal
muscles (_umbilicus_) ‘covering the viscera like a cap’, her general
descriptions of the vessels (_venae_) and the muscles, and especially
her account of the vessels of the leg and of the intimate relations of
the main _venae_ to the organ of hearing, fits in perfectly with the
form of these remarkable diagrams (Plate XVIII).

We here render some of the most important of her general anatomical
descriptions:

    ‘The humours may pass to the liver, where wisdom is tested, having
    been already tempered in the brain by the strength of the spirit,
    and having absorbed its moisture so that now it is plump, strong,
    and healthy.

    ‘In the right of man is the liver and its great heat, so that the
    right is swift to act and to work;[104] but towards the left are
    heart and lung, which fortify the body for its task and receive
    their heat from the liver as from a furnace. But the vessels of
    the liver, affected by the agitation of the humours, trouble the
    venules of the ear of man and sometimes confound the organ of
    hearing....

    ‘I saw also that sometimes the humours seek the navel, which covers
    the viscera as a cap, and holds them in, lest they be dissipated,
    and maintains their course and preserves the heat both of them
    and of the veins.... But sometimes the humours seek the loins
    (_lumbos_),[105] which mock, deceive, and endanger the virile
    powers and which are held in place by nerves and other vessels; in
    which, nevertheless, reason nourishes so that man may know what to
    do and what to avoid....

    ‘And the same humours go to the vessels of the reins and of other
    members, and pass in their turn to the vessels of the spleen, and
    then to the lungs and to the heart; and they meet the viscera
    on the left where they are warmed by the lungs, but the liver
    warms the right-hand side of the body. And the vessels of the
    brain, heart, lung, liver, and other parts carry strength to the
    reins, whose vessels descend to the legs, strengthening them; and
    returning along with the leg vessels, they unite with the virile
    organ or with the womb as the case may be.

    ‘And as the stomach absorbs food, or as iron is sharpened on a
    stone, so do they bring the reproductive power to those parts.

[Illustration: From WIESBADEN CODEX B, fo. 123 r

Plate XXI. THE FALL OF THE ANGELS]

    ‘Again, the muscles of the arms, legs, and thighs contain vessels
    full of humours; and just as the belly has within it viscera
    containing nourishment, so the muscles of arms, legs, and thighs
    have both vessels and the [contained] humours which preserve man’s
    strength.... But when a man runs or walks quickly, the nerves about
    the knees and the venules in the knees become distended. And since
    they are united with the vessels of the legs, which are numerous
    and intercommunicate in a net-like manner, they conduct the fatigue
    to the vessels of the liver, and thus they reach the vessels of the
    brain, and so send the fatigue throughout the body. But the vessels
    from the reins pass rather to the left leg than to the right,
    because the right leg gets its strength more from the heat of the
    liver. And the vessels of the right leg ascend as far as the renal
    and kindred vessels, and these latter vessels unite with those of
    the kidney. And the liver warms the reins which lie in the fatness
    derived from the humours....

    ‘The humours in man are distributed in just measure. But when they
    affect the veins of the liver, his humidity is decreased and also
    the humidity of the chest is attenuated; so that thus dried, he
    falls into disease of such a nature that the phlegm is dry and
    toxic and ascends to the brain. There it produces headache and pain
    in the eyes and wasting of the marrow, and thus if the moon is in
    default he may develop the falling evil [epilepsy].

    ‘The humidity also which is in the umbilicus is dispersed by the
    same humours, and turned into dryness and hardness, so that the
    flesh becomes ulcerated and scabby as though he were leprous,
    if indeed he do not actually become so. And the vessels of his
    testicles, being adversely affected by these humours, similarly
    disturb the other vessels, so that the proper humidity is dried up
    within them; and thus, the humours being withdrawn, impetigos may
    arise ... and the marrow of the bones and the vessels of the flesh
    are dried up, and so the man becomes chronically ill, dragging out
    his days in languor.

    ‘But sometimes the humours affect breast and liver ... so that
    various foolish thoughts arise ... and they ascend to the brain
    and infect it and again descend to the stomach and generate fevers
    there, so that the man is long sick. Yet again they vex the minor
    vessels of the ear with superfluity of phlegm; or with the same
    phlegm they infect the vessels of the lung, so that he coughs and
    can scarce breathe; and the phlegm may pass thence into the vessels
    of the heart and give him pain there, or the pain may pass into the
    side, exciting pleurisy; under such circumstances also, the moon
    being in defect, the man may lapse into the falling sickness.’[106]
    #/

Sometimes Hildegard’s anatomical ideas can be paralleled among her
contemporaries. Thus the following passage on the relationship of the
planets to the brain is well illustrated by a diagram of Herrade de
Landsberg.

[Illustration: Fig. 9. From Herrade de Landsberg’s _Hortus deliciarum_,
after Straub and Keller’s reproduction.[107]]

    ‘From the summit of the vessel of the brain to the extremity of the
    forehead seven equal spaces can be distinguished. Here the seven
    planets are designated, the uppermost planet in the highest part,
    the moon in front, the sun in the middle and the other planets
    distributed among the other spaces’ (Fig. 9).

[Illustration: From WIESBADEN CODEX B fo. 41 v

Plate XXII. THE DAYS OF CREATION AND THE FALL OF MAN]


IX. BIRTH AND DEATH AND THE NATURE OF THE SOUL

The method by which the soul enters the body is set forth in a very
striking vision in the _Scivias_ and is illustrated in the Wiesbaden
Codex B by a no less remarkable miniature (Plate XIX). The soul, which
contains the element of wisdom, passes into the infant’s body while
yet within the mother’s womb. The _Wisdom of God_ is represented
as a four-square object, with its angles set to the four quarters
of the earth, this form being the symbol of stability. From it a
long tube-like process descends into the mother’s womb. Down this
there passes into the child a bright object, described variously as
‘spherical’ and as ‘shapeless’, which ‘illumines the whole body’ and
becomes or develops into the soul.

The birth scene is strikingly portrayed. In the foreground lies the
mother with the head and shoulders supported and the right arm raised.
In her womb is the infant in the position known to obstetricians as a
‘transverse presentation’. Around the child may be distinguished clear
traces of the uterine membranes. Near the couch are ranged a group of
ten figures who carry vessels containing the various qualities of the
child. Above and to the left the Evil One may be seen pouring some
noxious substance into one of these vessels, or perhaps abstracting
some element of good. The whole scene suggests the familiar fairy tale
in which, while all bring pleasant gifts to the child’s birth, there
comes at last the old witch or the ill-used relative who adds a quota
of spitefulness.

The scene is described and expounded as follows:

    ‘Behold, I saw upon earth men carrying milk in earthen vessels
    and making cheeses therefrom. Some was of the thick kind from
    which firm cheese is made, some of the thinner sort from which
    more porous [_tenuis_] cheese is made, and some was mixed with
    corruption [_tabes_] and of the sort from which bitter cheese is
    made. And I saw the likeness of a woman having a complete human
    form within her womb. And then, by a secret disposition of the
    Most High Craftsman, a fiery sphere having none of the lineaments
    of a human body possessed the heart of the form, and reached the
    brain and transfused itself through all the members.... And I saw
    that many circling eddies possessed the sphere and brought it
    earthward, but with ever renewed force it returned upward and with
    wailing asked, “I, wanderer that I am, where am I?” “In death’s
    shadow.” “And where go I?” “In the way of sinners.” “And what is my
    hope?” “That of all wanderers.”’[108] The vision is explained as
    follows: ‘Those whom thou seest carrying milk in earthen vessels
    are in the world, men and women alike, having in their bodies the
    seed of mankind from which are procreated the various kinds of
    human beings. Part is thickened because the seed in its strength
    is well and truly concocted, and this produces forceful men to
    whom are allotted gifts both spiritual and carnal.... And some
    had cheeses less firmly curdled, for they in their feebleness
    have seed imperfectly tempered, and they raise offspring mostly
    stupid, feeble, and useless.... And some was mixed with corruption
    ... for the seed in that brew cannot be rightly raised, it is
    invalid and makes misshapen men who are bitter, distressed, and
    oppressed of heart, so that they may not lift their gaze to higher
    things....[109] And often in forgetfulness of God and by the
    mocking devil, a _mistio_ is made of the man and of the woman and
    the thing born therefrom is deformed, for parents who have sinned
    against me return to me crucified in their children.’[110] (Compare
    Constantine _De humana natura_, sections ‘De perfectione’ and ‘De
    impeditione’.)

Hildegard thus supposes that the qualities and form of a child are
inherited from its parents, but that two factors, the formless soul
from the Almighty and the corrupt fluid instilled by the devil, also
contribute to the character of offspring. This is the usual mediaeval
view and is broadly portrayed in the figure.

The strange conception of the body being formed from the seed, as
cheese is precipitated and curdled from milk, is doubtless derived from
a passage in the Book of Job:

    ‘Hast thou not poured me out as milk,
    And curdled me like cheese?
    Thou hast clothed me with skin and flesh,
    And knit me together with bones and sinews’ (Job x. 10, 11).[111]

When the body has thus taken shape there enters into it the soul which,
though at first shapeless, gradually assumes the form of its host, the
earthly tabernacle; and at death the soul departs through the mouth
with the last breath, as a fully developed naked human shape, to be
received by devils or angels as the case may be (Plate XX).

[Illustration: From WIESBADEN CODEX B. fo. 47 r

Plate XXIII. THE VISION OF THE TRINITY]

During its residence in the body the soul plays the part usually
assigned to it in the earlier mediaeval psychology, before the ideas of
Nemesius and Ibn Ghazali had been elaborated and systematized by Albert
and Aquinas. Hildegard regards the brain as having three chambers or
divisions, corresponding to the three parts of man’s nature, an idea
encountered in the writings of St. Augustine. Parallel to these there
are, she tells us,

    ‘three elements in man by which he shows life; to wit, soul
    (_anima_), body (_corpus_), and sense (_sensus_). The soul vivifies
    the body and inspires the senses; the body attracts the soul and
    reveals the senses; the senses affect the soul and allure the
    body. For the soul rules the body as a flame throws light into
    darkness, and it has two principal powers or limbs, the intellect
    (_intellectus_) and the will (_voluntas_); not indeed that the soul
    has limbs to move itself, but that it manifests itself thereby as
    the sun declares himself by his brightness.... For the intellect
    is attached to the soul as the arms to the body: for as the body
    is prolonged into arms with fingers and hands attached, so the
    intellect is produced from the soul by the operation of its various
    powers.’[112]

We need follow Hildegard no further into her maze of micro-cosmology,
in which an essential similarity and relationship is discovered
between the qualities of the soul, the constitution of the external
cosmos, and the structure of the body, a thought which appears as the
culmination of her entire system and provides the clue to the otherwise
incomprehensible whole.[113]


X. THE VISIONS AND THEIR PATHOLOGICAL BASIS

For the physical accompaniments and phenomena of Hildegard’s visions we
have three separate lines of evidence: her own account; the statements
of her contemporary biographers, Theodoric and Godefrid; and the
miniatures of the Wiesbaden Codex B, probably prepared under her
supervision.

It is clear that despite the length and activity of her life, Hildegard
did not enjoy normal health. From a very early age she was the subject
of trances and visions, and from time to time she was prostrated with
protracted illness.

    ‘God punished me for a time by laying me on a bed of sickness so
    that the blood was dried in my veins, the moisture in my flesh
    and the marrow in my bones, as though the spirit were about to
    depart from my body. In this affliction I lay thirty days while my
    body burned as with fever, and it was thought that this sickness
    was laid upon me for a punishment. And my spirit also was ailing,
    and yet was pinned to my flesh, so that while I did not die, yet
    did I not altogether live. And throughout those days I watched
    a procession of angels innumerable who fought with Michael and
    against the dragon and won the victory.... And one of them called
    out to me, “Eagle! Eagle![114] why sleepest thou?... All the eagles
    are watching thee.... Arise! for it is dawn, and eat and drink.”
    And then the whole troop cried out with a mighty voice,... “Is not
    the time for passing come? Arise, maiden, arise!” Instantly my
    body and my senses came back into the world; and seeing this, my
    daughters who were weeping around me lifted me from the ground and
    placed me on my bed, and thus I began to get back my strength.

    ‘But the affliction laid upon me did not fully cease; yet was my
    spirit daily strengthened.... I was yet weak of flesh, timid of
    mind, and fearful of pain ... but in my soul I said, “Lord! Lord!
    all that Thou puttest upon me I know to be good ... for have I not
    earned these things from my youth up?” Yet was I assured He would
    not permit my soul to be thus tortured in the future life....[115]
    Thus was my body seethed as in a pot ... yet gave I thanks to God,
    for if this affliction had not been from Him I had surely not lived
    so long. But although I was thus tortured, yet did I, in supernal
    vision, often repeat, cry aloud, and write those things which the
    Holy Spirit willed to put before me.

    ‘Three years were thus passed during which the Cherubim pursued me
    with a flaming sword ... and at length my spirit revived within me
    and my body was restored again as to its veins and marrows, and
    thus I was healed.’[116]

This illness of Hildegard was the longest and the most typical, but
by no means the only one through which she passed. She describes her
affliction as continuing for long periods, but there can be little
doubt, from her history, that during much of the time she was able to
carry on some at least of her functions as head of a religious house.

[Illustration: WIESB. COD. B. fo. 213 v

SEDENS LUCIDUS]

[Illustration: From WIESBADEN CODEX B fo. 153 r

Plate XXIV. ZELUS DEI]

The condition from which she was suffering was clearly a functional
nervous disorder; this is sufficiently demonstrated by her repeated
complete recoveries, her activity between the attacks, and the great
age to which she lived. At first sight, the long procession of
figures and visions suggests that she might have been the victim of
a condition similar to that of which Jerome Cardan has left us so
complete a personal record. But on reading the books of visions, the
reader will easily convince himself that we are not here dealing with a
dream-state. The visions are indeed essentially vivid. ‘These visions
which I saw’, she repeatedly assures us, ‘I beheld neither in sleep,
nor in dream, nor in madness, nor with my carnal eyes, nor with the
ears of the flesh, nor in hidden places; but wakeful, alert, with the
eyes of the spirit and with the inward ears I perceived them in open
view and according to the will of God. And how this was compassed is
hard indeed for human flesh to search out.’[117]

Nevertheless, though the visions exhibit great originality and creative
power--the reader will often be reminded of William Blake--all or
nearly all present certain characters in common. In all a prominent
feature is a point or a group of points of light, which shimmer and
move, usually in a wavelike manner, and are most often interpreted as
stars or flaming eyes. In quite a number of cases one light, larger
than the rest, exhibits a series of concentric circular figures of
wavering form; and often definite fortification figures are described,
radiating in some cases from a  area. Often the lights gave
that impression of _working_, boiling or fermenting, described by so
many visionaries, from Ezekiel onwards.

This outline of the visions the saint herself variously interpreted.
We give examples from the more typical of these visions, in which
the medical reader or the sufferer from migraine will, we think,
easily recognize the symptoms of scintillating scotoma. Some of the
illuminations, here reproduced in their original colours, will confirm
this interpretation.

    ‘I saw a great star most splendid and beautiful, and with it
    an exceeding multitude of falling sparks which with the star
    followed southward. And they examined Him upon His throne almost
    as something hostile, and turning from Him, they sought rather the
    north. And suddenly they were all annihilated, being turned into
    black coals ... and cast into the abyss that I could see them no
    more’[118] (Plate XXI).

This vision, illustrated by the beautiful figure of stars falling into
the waves, is interpreted by her as signifying the _Fall of the Angels_.

The concentric circles appear in numerous visions, and notably in
that of the _Days of the Creation of the World and the Fall of Man_,
illustrated by what is perhaps the most beautiful of all the miniatures
of the Wiesbaden Codex B (lib. ii, vis. 1, Plate XXII). It is in this
concentric form that Hildegard most frequently pictures the Almighty,
and the idea again appears in the eleventh miniature, here reproduced
in its original colours, which she describes as ‘a most shining light
and within it the appearance of a human form of a sapphire colour which
glittered with a gentle but sparkling glow’ (lib. ii, vis. 2, Plate
XXIII). Appearances of this type are recorded again and again.

The type with fortification figures is encountered in a whole series
of visions, of which we reproduce the account and illumination of the
_Zelus Dei_ (lib. iii, vis. 5, Plate XXIV, lower section).

    ‘I looked and behold a head of marvellous form ... of the colour
    of flame and red as fire, and it had a terrible human face gazing
    northward in great wrath. From the neck downward I could see no
    further form, for the body was altogether concealed ... but the
    head itself I saw, like the bare form of a human head. Nor was it
    hairy like a man, nor indeed after the manner of a woman, but it
    was more like to a man than a woman, and very awful to look upon.

    ‘It had three wings of marvellous length and breadth, white as a
    dazzling cloud. They were not raised erect but spread apart one
    from the other and the head rose slightly above them ... and at
    times they would beat terribly and again would be still. No word
    uttered the head, but remained altogether still, yet now and again
    beating with its extended wings.’

From the head extended a series of fortification lines, and this
peculiar form of vision is reproduced on several occasions and
variously interpreted (Plate XXIV, upper section). It is united with
similar visions in what we regard as a reconstructed conception of
exceedingly complex structure. This she claims to see separately, and
she interprets it as the _aedificium_ of the city of God (Plate XXV).
Such reconstructed visions are clearly of a different type and origin
to the simple group in which a shining light or group of lights is
encountered and interpreted as a speaking figure.

[Illustration: From THE WIESBADEN CODEX B fo. 30 r

Plate XXV. THE HEAVENLY CITY]

Hildegard’s visions, perhaps without exception, contain this element of
a blinding or glittering light, which she interprets in a more or less
spiritual manner. We terminate our account with the passage in which
she sums up her experiences of it.

    ‘From my infancy’, she says, ‘up to the present time, I being now
    more than seventy years of age, I have always seen this light in
    my spirit and not with external eyes, nor with any thoughts of my
    heart nor with help from the senses. But my outward eyes remain
    open and the other corporeal senses retain their activity. The
    light which I see is not located but yet is more brilliant than the
    sun, nor can I examine its height, length, or breadth, and I name
    it the “cloud of the living light”. And as sun, moon, and stars are
    reflected in water, so the writings, sayings, virtues, and works
    of men shine in it before me. And whatever I thus see in vision
    the memory thereof remains long with me. Likewise I see, hear, and
    understand almost in a moment and I set down what I thus learn....

    ‘But sometimes I behold within this light another light which I
    name “the Living Light itself”.... And when I look upon it every
    sadness and pain vanishes from my memory, so that I am again as a
    simple maid and not as an old woman....[119]

    ‘And now that I am over seventy years old my spirit according
    to the will of God soars upward in vision to the highest heaven
    and to the farthest stretch of the air and spreads itself among
    different peoples to regions exceeding far from me here, and thence
    I can behold the changing clouds and the mutations of all created
    things; for all these I see not with the outward eye or ear, nor
    do I create them from the cogitations of my heart ... but within
    my spirit, my eyes being open, so that I have never suffered any
    terror when they left me.’[120]

  NOTE.--The author’s thanks are due to the Rev. H. A. Wilson, Mr.
  C. C. J. Webb, and Mr. R. R. Steele, who have read the proofs of this
  article and have made valuable suggestions; to Mr. J. A. Herbert of
  the MS. Department of the British Museum, who drew his attention to
  the work of Herrade de Landsberg; and to Mr. M. H. Spielmann, who
  brought to his notice the crucifix figured in Plate X. He owes a
  special debt of gratitude to the late Dom Louis Baillet of Oosterhoot
  for his courtesy and generosity in lending him reproductions of the
  illuminations of the Wiesbaden Codex. Baillet was a young scholar of
  great promise, whose early death is a severe loss to the knowledge of
  mediaeval science.

  The author has also to thank Professor Henrici of the Nassauische
  Landesbibliothek at Wiesbaden, Professor Wille and Professor Sillib
  of the Universitätsbibliothek at Heidelberg, and Signor Boselli
  of the R. Bibliotica Governativa at Lucca, who have all given him
  exceptional facilities for the study of the treasures under their
  charge.




[Illustration: Signed photograph of John Wilfred Jenkinson]

JOHN WILFRED JENKINSON


John Wilfred Jenkinson was born in 1871, and came from Bradfield
to Exeter College, Oxford, with a classical scholarship in 1890.
After taking his degree in _Literae Humaniores_ he came, in 1894, to
University College, London, where he devoted himself with extraordinary
and never-flagging energy to biological studies.

Without having had the usual preliminary scientific teaching, he
brought, on the other hand, a well-trained mind to bear on his new
work, and the rapidity and completeness with which he acquired his
scientific equipment was one of the most striking and interesting
points in his career. Jenkinson very soon turned to original
investigation, and from the first he showed a predilection for
Embryology.

For a short time he held a post at one of the great London hospitals,
but he soon returned to Oxford to join the teaching staff of the
Department of Comparative Anatomy. He used the opportunity of
University vacations to work in the laboratory of the late Professor
A. A. W. Hubrecht at Utrecht, where part of his first published
research was written. During the fifteen years of life that remained
to him, he established himself as the foremost English writer on
Embryology, devoting himself especially to its experimental aspect, a
line of work in which he will rank as one of the pioneers.

Jenkinson became Doctor of Science in 1905, and in the same year he
married Constance Stephenson. In 1906 he was appointed University
Lecturer in Embryology, and in 1909 he was elected to a Research
Fellowship at Exeter College.

Jenkinson’s mind was not of the type that matures early, but one felt
in him a power of solid intellect that gained in force from year to
year. The gap in the ranks of British Science caused by his death
has been generally recognized, but his loss seems greatest to those
personally acquainted with him, who know that he had by no means
reached the zenith of his powers.

Jenkinson led a single-minded and unselfish life, wholly free from
worldly and ignoble ambitions. Of simple and winning humour, happy in
his domestic life and absorbed in his studies, he represented the very
best type of scientific worker.

He was gifted with a powerful physique, and on the outbreak of war
he became an ardent member of the Oxford Volunteer Training Corps.
His qualities of calm courage and high sense of duty marked him out
as a valuable officer. Although forty-three years of age, he took a
commission in the 12th Worcester Regiment in January, 1915, and was
promoted Captain in the following April. On May 10 he left for the
Dardanelles, having been selected for service with the 2nd Royal
Fusiliers. He was killed in action on June 4, only ten days after his
arrival at the Gallipoli peninsula.


BOOKS AND PAPERS BY J. W. JENKINSON

  1. ‘A Re-investigation of the Early Stages of the Development of the
      Mouse.’ _Quart. Jour. Micr. Science_, xliii. 1900.

  2. ‘Observations on the Histology and Physiology of the Placenta of
      the Mouse.’ _Tijdschr. Nederland. Dierkund. Vereen._, vii (2).
      1902.

  3. ‘Observations on the Maturation and Fertilization of the Egg of
      the Axolotl.’ _Quart. Jour. Micr. Science_, xlviii. 1905.

  4. ‘Remarks on the Germinal Layers of Vertebrates and on the
      Significance of Germinal Layers in general.’ _Mem. and Proc.
      Manchester Lit. and Phil. Soc._, 1906.

  5. ‘Notes on the Histology and Physiology of the Placenta in
      Ungulata.’ _Proc. Zool. Soc._ 1906.

  6. ‘On the Effects of certain Solutions upon the Development of the
      Frog’s Egg.’ _Arch. Ent.-Mech._, xxi. 1906.

  7. ‘On the Relation between the Symmetry of the Egg and the Symmetry
      of the Embryo in the Frog (_Rana temporaria_).’ _Biometrika_, v.
      1906.

  8. _Experimental Embryology_. Oxford, 1909.

  9. ‘On the Relation between the Symmetry of the Egg, the Symmetry
      of Segmentation, and the Symmetry of the Embryo in the Frog.’
      _Biometrika_, vii. 1909.

  10. ‘The Effects of Sodium Chloride on the Growth and Variability of
      the Tadpole of the Frog.’ _Arch. Ent.-Mech._, xxx (2). 1910.

  11. ‘Vitalism.’ _Hibbert Journal_. 1911.

  12. ‘On the Development of Isolated Pieces of the Gastrulae of the
      Sea-Urchin _Strongylocentrotus lividus_.’ _Arch. Ent.-Mech._,
      xxxii. 1911.

  13. ‘On the Effect of certain Isotonic Solutions on the Development
      of the Frog.’ _Arch. Ent.-Mech._, xxxii. 1911.

  14. ‘On the Origin of the Polar and Bilateral Structure of the Egg of
      the Sea-Urchin.’ _Arch. Ent.-Mech._, xxxii. 1911.

  15. ‘The Development of the Ear-Bones in the Mouse.’ _Jour. Anat. and
      Phys._, vi (3). 1911.

  16. ‘Growth, Variability, and Correlation in Young Trout.’
      _Biometrika_, viii. 1912.

  17. _Vertebrate Embryology_. Oxford, 1913.

  18. ‘The Effect of Centrifugal Force on the Structure and Development
      of the Egg of the Frog.’ _Quart. Jour. Micr. Science._ 1914.

  19. ‘The Placenta of a Lemur.’ _Quart. Jour. Micr. Science._ July
      1915.

  20. _Three Lectures on Experimental Embryology_. Oxford, 1917.




                                VITALISM

                           By J. W. Jenkinson


In one of the oldest biological treatises in the world, the soul
or life of an organism is defined in the most general way as an
activity of a natural organic living body--ἐντελέχεια σώματος φυσικου̑
ὀργανικου̑ δυνάμει ζωὴν ἔχοντος--life being autonomous nutrition and
growth and decay. The activity may, however, be latent or patent,
passive or active, sleeping or waking, without losing its peculiar
characters. It is substance (οὐσία), but substance as ‘form’ as opposed
to the material substance of the body, and the living body is therefore
also a substance in a double sense.

It is not identical with the body; but as form, proportion (λόγος),
activity (ἐνέργεια), essence (τὸ τί ἠν εἰναι), it is related
to the body, mere matter (ὕλη), and potentiality (δύναμις) in just
the same way as the seal is related to the wax; and the body is the
instrument whereby it effects its purposes; though subsequent in time,
it is prior in thought to the body, as all activities are to the
materials with which they operate.

At the same time neither it nor its parts are separable from the body,
with the exception, possibly, of mind (νου̑ς); it is indeed the actual
or possible functioning of the body, like the seeing of the eye or
the cutting of the axe, and with the disappearance of the capacity of
this functioning the soul itself also perishes. Lastly, it is a cause
(ἀρχὴ καὶ αἰτία) in a triple sense: first, as the source of motion;
secondly, as that for the sake of which the body exists; and thirdly,
as its essence (οὐσία) or formal cause. The soul or life is of several
kinds, which form together an ascending series each member of which is
necessarily involved in those above it.

The lowest is the nutritive soul (θρεπτική), found in all living
things, and the only soul possessed by plants. It is defined as motion
in respect of nutrition, decay, and growth, processes which involve
alteration (ἀλλοίωσις) in the body; and its functions (ἔργα) are to
utilize food for the maintenance and reproduction of the form of the
body, and to control and limit growth.

The second is the perceptive soul (αἰσθητική), the possession of
which distinguishes animals from plants. This also is a kind of
alteration (ἀλλοίωσις τίς) and consists in being moved and affected.
The fundamental and indispensable perception is touch (ἁφή), for it is
concerned in the acquisition of the food. It is invariably present: the
others may or may not, some or all, coexist with it.

Thirdly, some animals are possessed of a capacity for locomotion, and
the performance of this function requires again a special kind of soul.

Lastly, there is the reasoning soul (διανοητικά) or mind (νου̑ς). This
is found in man alone, unless there be other beings similar to him, or
even nobler than he. Mind alone is eternal and separable from the body.

Though the observation and experiment of modern science would doubtless
find much to alter in the details of these simple definitions, yet it
must be conceded that, by what is certainly a most fortunate guess if
it is not the most wonderful insight, Aristotle has laid his finger
on the cardinal point of modern physiological doctrine. For, putting
aside for the moment the mental faculties, it is here laid down in
the clearest manner that not only the functions of growth and decay,
nutrition, and reproduction, but also the capacity of responding to
stimuli are to be ultimately resolved into some kind of movement of the
particles of which the body is composed. Life, in short, as we might
say with Virchow, is a mode of motion.

The biology of to-day distinguishes living from inanimate bodies by the
possession and exercise of the three principal properties or functions
of metabolism, irritability, and reproduction; and further, the body
which performs these functions is not only composed of chemically
complex substances--proteids--which are not found in things that are
not alive, but possesses a structure. In no case, even the simplest, is
the organism a mere homogeneous lump of protoplasm, but it has parts or
organs, visibly different from one another, and obviously correlated
with the activities appropriated to each; and it is the preservation
of that structure, in the individual and in the race, which is the end
towards which the collective performance of all these functions, or the
life of the organism, is apparently directed.

Some of these peculiarities are shared by certain things that are
not commonly regarded as alive. Crystals have of course a definite
structure; they can divide, and when broken they can make good the
missing part, but they do not assimilate to the substance of their own
bodies a food-material which is less complex than it, and they are not
irritable.

The differences, indeed, between the living and the lifeless are so
profound, that it is not to be wondered at that there should have been
in all ages natural philosophers who have held that living activities
are phenomena _sui generis_, differing _toto caelo_ from the properties
exhibited by lifeless bodies, and never by any conceivability to be
expressed in terms of these.

This doctrine is vitalism.

It exists in several varieties, but one at least is of very ancient
lineage and can be traced back through mediaeval times to the
biological speculations of the Greeks.

Whether Aristotle really held the vitalistic views which have since
been attributed to him is a matter we shall have to discuss later on,
but it is certain that in the writings of Galen there is to be found
a theory of life which bears the stamp of Aristotelian influence, and
was destined to hand that influence on to future generations. Galen
admits the sensitive soul of Aristotle as the peculiarity of animals,
and the rational soul for man, but substitutes for the nutritive soul
certain works of nature--attraction, repulsion, retention, alteration.
And further, the rational soul is no longer immortal, but perishable,
and is dependent on the body, where its seat is in the brain; it is
material or quasi-material, a πνευμα, most efficient when dry.

After a long interval this doctrine reappears in the sixteenth century
in the writings of Vesalius, who tells us that the heart has a vital
soul, the liver a natural soul, while there is elaborated in the
ventricles of the brain an animal spirit or principal soul.

Meanwhile, however, the conception of life as something material had
been discarded by Paracelsus for the belief that the soul, or as he
called it, the ‘Archaeus’, by which the chemical processes of the body
are governed, is not a material but a spiritual force, a view restated
by Stahl more than a hundred years afterwards. ‘The events of the
body’, says this author, ‘may be rough-hewn by chemical and physical
forces, but the soul will shape them to its own ends, and will do that
by its instrument, motion.’

This, of course, is vitalism, and vitalism in its extreme or
‘animistic’ form. The idea recurs later on in the biology of
Treviranus. To be living is to have a soul, he tells us, and the
conscious _Lebenskraft_ employs the forces of the material world to
form the organism. ‘Das Weitzenkorn hat allerdings Bewusstsein dessen,
was in ihm ist und aus ihm werden kann, und träumt wirklich davon.’
Though he adds quaintly enough, ‘Sein Bewusstsein und seine Träume
mögen dunkel genug sein’. It is curious to observe the revival, at the
beginning of the twentieth century, of this mediaeval mysticism in the
speculative writings of so accomplished an experimentalist as Hans
Driesch.

Driesch is an embryologist who in his earlier days had enunciated an
invaluable analytical theory of development, a theory which suggests
that while the formation of the first or elementary organs that
appear in the embryo or larva--such structures as the larval gut or
sense-organ, or the germ-layers--depends upon the presence in the germ
of certain specific organ-forming substances (and this is a fact which
has since been abundantly demonstrated by experiment), the origin of
parts that appear later in development may be accounted for by the
action of the first-formed structures upon one another, these actions
being in the nature of physiological responses to stimuli; and for this
also some evidence has been produced. On this view differentiation is a
mechanical process, set in motion by fertilization or some other cause,
and, given a certain initial structure of the germ or ovum, given the
presence in it of a certain number of parts or substances capable
of acting upon one another with a fixed co-ordination or harmony of
the stimuli and the responses, given further a proper constitution
of the external environment, then a definite result must follow, the
production of an organism which is like the parents that gave it birth.

But in his later treatises this hypothesis has been repudiated, and, by
a remarkable _volte-face_, replaced by a dogma of a wholly different
kind. For now it is urged that no merely material factors can possibly
account either for the harmony of development--the due co-ordination
of mutually reacting parts; or for the secondary harmony of
composition--the formation of complex organs by the union of tissues;
or for the functional harmony seen in the activities of the adult.

For example, it is asserted that any fragment of an egg of a
sea-urchin, if not too small (not less than 1/32 of the egg), can give
rise to a whole and normal larva. We are told that the cells of the
segmented ovum may be disarranged to any extent by various means,
such as raising the temperature, diluting the sea-water, removing the
calcium from the sea-water, or by shaking, without prejudice to the
ultimate normality of development. Each part of the ovum can therefore,
according to the needs of the case, give rise to any part of the
resulting organism. ‘Jeder Teil kann nach Bedürfniss jedes.’

And thirdly, when the gastrula of a sea-urchin is transversely divided
into two, each half, it is stated, develops into a diminished whole
larva in which the gut becomes divided into the characteristic three
regions, and all the other organs are formed in correct proportion.

For each of these acts of development in the whole uninjured larva an
explanation may conceivably be given in terms of formative stimuli
exerted by the originally distinct parts of the egg and calling forth
responses in other parts. A mechanism may be thought of which, when
set in motion, will achieve a certain end in accordance with its own
pre-established harmony; but a mechanism which can be subdivided _ad
libitum_, or almost _ad libitum_, and the parts of which will still
achieve the same end, will still behave as wholes with their parts
co-ordinated in the same ratio, temporally and spatially! Such a
mechanism is inconceivable; for to ensure the uniform result, the
relative amounts and positions of the necessary substances must be
imagined as identical in every possible fragment of the egg that
is not too small. Something is therefore required to superintend,
to co-ordinate the causes of development in the case not only of
the part but of the whole egg as well; and this something is not
material. A corroborative proof of the inadequacy of the purely
material explanation--the causal explanation in the ordinary sense
of the phrase--may be derived from a consideration of certain other
vital processes. The facts of acclimatization and immunity betray
an extraordinary adaptability of the organism to a change in its
environment; an organ will adapt itself structurally to an alteration,
quantitative or qualitative, of function [Roux’s ‘Functional
Adaptation’]; lost parts can be regenerated; and then there is the
physiology of the nervous system.

In all these cases of ‘regulation’--and indeed in all other responses
to stimuli--the same element, inexplicable in chemical and physical
terms, exists and must exist in development. This entity is not a
form of energy, but a vital constant, analogous to the constants
or ultimate conceptions of mechanics and physics and chemistry and
crystallography, but not reducible to these, just as these cannot be
translated into one another.

Driesch describes it as a rudimentary feeling and willing, a
‘psychoid’, ‘morphaesthetic’ or perceptive of that form which is the
desired end towards which it controls and directs all the material
elements of differentiation, like the grain of wheat of Treviranus,
dreaming dimly of its destiny. It is thus a _vera causa_--an
unconditional and invariable antecedent--a psychical factor which can
intervene in the purely physical series of causes and effects, and for
it he revives the Aristotelian term ‘Entelechy’.

Such is the ‘vitalism’ introduced by Hans Driesch, a teleological
theory clearly, but no mere metaphysical doctrine of final causes:
rather a dynamic teleology which not only sees an end in every organic
process, but postulates an immaterial entity to guide the merely
mechanical forces towards the realization of that end.

Such a theory is open to very serious criticism from both the
scientific and the philosophical side. But before we pass to that
criticism let us turn aside to examine some of the other aspects under
which the Proteus of Vitalism presents himself.

Thus the modern physiologist Bunge, while owning that it would be a
lack of intelligence to expect to make with our senses discoveries in
living nature of a different order to those revealed to us in inorganic
nature, yet insists that we must transfer to the objects of our sensory
perception, to the organs, to the tissue elements, and to every minute
cell, something which we have acquired from our own consciousness,
something, that is to say, which is not motion, and is not in space,
but is in time only.

The essence of vitalism, so Bunge would have it, lies in starting from
what we know, the internal world, to explain what we do not know,
the external world. We can only remark that this position appears
to rest upon an epistemological confusion, for Bunge has evidently
failed to distinguish between the idealism which teaches that the
world of nature, including our own bodies, only exists in so far as
it is an object of knowledge, that reality is ultimately ideal, and
the ‘animism’ which, as we have seen, gives every object, at least
every living object, in nature a directive consciousness of its own.
The former does not lie immediately within the scope of the present
inquiry; the latter we shall have occasion to discuss again.

How far the tenets of animism are to be attributed to Johannes Müller
is not very clear. For while Müller maintained that an organism is due
to an idea which regulates its structure, is the cause of its harmony,
and is in action in the organism itself, exerting on it a formative
power, yet he held that the process was unconscious. Müller indeed
distinguished explicitly between the vital and the mental or conscious
principle, for in the operations of the former the manifestation of
design is the result of necessity, not of choice. At the same time the
two resemble one another in being homogeneous, in existing throughout
the mass of the organism which they animate, and in being divided
together with the organism (as in regeneration) without suffering any
diminution or change of their powers.

In this conception of the unconscious idea there may possibly be some
confusion between the formal and the final cause, between the idea of
the end to be realized, present at the beginning in the mind of the
artificer, and the end itself. The former is animism: the latter is
sound enough as metaphysics, but is not science at all.

There is still another school of vitalists which, while not going so
far as to commit itself to a belief in a ‘psychoid’, yet proclaims
in no uncertain voice the autonomy of the organism, and not content
with the assertion that at present we have not succeeded in reducing
the activities of the organism to chemical, physical, and mechanical
processes, maintains the utter futility of such endeavour, and
pronounces over the hidden mysteries of life an eternal _Ignorabimus_.

Some such view as this we must, I think, attribute to Dr. Haldane. ‘In
biology’, he says, ‘the phenomena which are or ought to be observed
from the very beginning are not physical and chemical phenomena as
self-existent events, but these phenomena as expressions of the
activity of living organisms. It is the living organism, and not the
physical phenomenon, which is the reality for biology.’ His belief in
organic autonomy is based on the physiology of metabolism, secretion
and absorption, the circulation of the blood, and the nervous system.
Thus in discussing the blood, after pointing to the constancy in its
volume and composition, he proceeds: ‘Neither starvation nor ingestion
of food and drink materially affect it: liquid injected into it is got
rid of with remarkable rapidity; and any loss of blood by bleeding
is soon replaced. This vital metabolism of the circulatory system is
doubtless due chiefly to the activity of its lining endothelium, which
most certainly does not play the mere mechanical part which has often
been attributed to it. The other so-called “mechanisms” can likewise
be shown to have all the characteristics of the living body, inasmuch
as they actively maintain their structure, just as the organism as a
whole does so. There is thus no warrant for calling them mechanisms,
and thus ignoring what is one of their essential characteristics.’ In
passages such as these we seem to catch an echo of Müller’s unconscious
idea, and again we ask ourselves, Are we dealing with a final or a
formal cause? Indeed, Dr. Haldane insists that his ground conception is
teleological.

There is still one other vitalistic theory to which we must allude,
although its interest is now merely historical. This is the belief in
a special vital material, unlike the material of which lifeless bodies
are composed, and endowed with a special vital force, different from
but co-ordinate with the forces of mechanics and physics.

In his _Histoire Générale des Animaux_ Buffon, after referring to the
obvious peculiarities of animals and vegetables--that their actions are
directed to an end, the conservation of a durable species--proceeds
to elaborate a thesis in which it is held that they are composed
of organic germs, and that germs of the same kind are distributed
throughout nature, lifeless as well as living. When an animal or plant
dies, its body is dissolved into these germs, which are then scattered
abroad; when it assimilates, it is by separating these ubiquitous
particles from the brute inorganic portion of the food. The former is
utilized for its own growth, the latter it gets rid of by evacuation
and excretion. Lifeless matter is therefore never converted into living
material.

Another advocate of the doctrine of a vital force, a property of the
tissues of the body, and at perpetual war with those inorganic forms
which tend to their destruction, was the physiologist Bichat, Such
a conception as this could not of course survive the rise of modern
chemistry. Its death-knell was sounded when Lavoisier and Laplace
showed that the bodies of organisms were composed of the same elements
as are found in inanimate nature, and it has long since passed into the
limbo of discredited speculations.

Apart from this, vitalistic theories would appear to be in the main of
two kinds.

First, there is the metaphysical vitalism which tells us we can never
explain the living in terms of the lifeless, insists on the permanent
separation of the sciences of biology on the one hand from chemistry
and physics on the other, and preaches the autonomy of the organism
without venturing to tell us in what that autonomy consists.

Secondly, there is the psychological theory of animism which posits an
autonomous psychical entity to preside over the chemical and mechanical
operations of the body, whether already formed or in process of
development, and to direct them towards its own ends, the conservation
and reproduction of that body’s specific form.

A third party, halting between two opinions, suggests an unconscious
idea, without, however, clearly explaining whether this is to be taken
in a metaphysical or a psychological sense. Frankly opposed to vitalism
in all its forms is the conception of the living body as a mechanism.
This has also an honourable ancestry behind it. How far the biology
of Aristotle is to be looked upon as mechanistic we shall presently
have to inquire, but in Galen the soul is certainly material, or
quasi-material, as we have already observed. It is, however, in the
physiology of Descartes that mechanism first appears unmistakably in
its modern guise.

For Descartes the body is simply an earthly machine. The nerves are
tubes up which--in sensation--the animal spirits flow to the brain only
to be reflected (whence our term reflex action) down other tubes to the
muscles.

‘All the functions of the body’, he tells us, ‘follow naturally from
the sole disposition of its organs, just in the same way that the
movements of a clock or other self-acting machine or automaton follow
from the arrangement of its weights and wheels. So that there is no
reason on account of its functions to conceive that there exists in
the body any soul, whether vegetative or sensitive, or any principle
of movement other than the blood and its animal spirits agitated by
the heat of the fire which burns continually in the heart and does not
differ in nature from any of the other fires which are met with in
inanimate bodies.’

The rational soul, the soul which thinks, that is, understands, wishes,
imagines, remembers, and feels, is not material. Yet it always acts
through the machine, though that machine can go on perfectly well
without the soul. ‘When the body has all its organs properly arranged
for a particular movement it has no need of the soul to carry them out.
All movements, even those which we call voluntary, depend principally
on the same disposition of the organs. One and the same cause renders
the dead body unfit to produce the movements and leads the soul to quit
the body.’

The biology of Descartes appears to have been accepted by contemporary
physiologists like van Helmont and Borelli, and certainly commended
itself to another philosopher of eminence, Leibnitz. Like Descartes,
Leibnitz also affirms that the body is a machine or natural automaton;
unlike Descartes, however, he refuses to believe that the mind directs
the machine in any way. Rather there is a complete series of psychical
parallel to a complete series of physical events, and between the two a
pre-established harmony.

Although the details of Cartesian physiology have long since been
exploded, yet the mechanical principle which that philosophy enunciated
so clearly has persisted and has indeed proved to be the rock on
which modern physiological science has been built. For, when once the
chemists had discovered animal and plant structure to be composed of
elements found in lifeless bodies, and had proved that compounds found
only in the organism could yet be synthesized _in vitro_, there was
no longer any reason why the properties of the compounds should be
considered as of a different order to the properties of their component
elements. A method applicable to one was applicable to the other, and
as Claude Bernard has put it, mechanical, physical, and chemical forces
are the only effective agents in the living body, and they are the only
agencies of which the physiologist has to take account.

The substances of which the living body is made up are no doubt
extremely complex, yet none the less--to quote a more recent writer,
Verworn--‘physiology is in the last resort the chemistry of the
proteids’. This is the principle that has now for nearly a century
guided and stimulated research into the functions of the organism:
to this principle physiologists, too numerous to name, have not been
ashamed to subscribe: under its banner some of the proudest triumphs
of the science have been won. Yet it is precisely this which modern or
neo-vitalism has challenged and asks us to relinquish in favour of a
theory of psychoids or a pseudo-metaphysical view of life.

The vitalistic position may be assailed from two points, the scientific
and the philosophical.

In the first place the vitalist asserts that mechanism is inadequate
to explain the phenomena of metabolism, of transmission of nervous
stimuli, or of development. It is upon the last of these that Driesch
lays special stress.

He has urged, as we have seen, that although a mechanical explanation
might be given (such an explanation has indeed been put forward by
himself) of the specific differentiation of the organism by supposing
the first-formed elementary organs, developed out of the substances
given in the initial structure of the germ, to act and react upon one
another in accordance with a certain harmony, provided for by the same
structure; yet a mechanism which can be subdivided _ad libitum_ or
almost _ad libitum_, and each part of which will still give rise to a
complete organism, is not to be conceived. The answer to this objection
has, however, been supplied by the experiments of Driesch himself and
of many others. For though it is true that each of the first two, four,
eight, or even in some cases each of the first sixteen cells into which
the fertilized ovum becomes segmented, can, when separated from its
fellows, give rise to a complete organism, yet in all cases there comes
a time when the parts cease to be totipotent and produce not whole but
partial structures.

This invariable restriction of potentialities, which occurs earlier
in some cases than in others, and is not due to mere deficiency of
substance, is not hard to account for.

Those substances on the presence of which in the ovum, as experiment
has taught us, the formation of the elementary organs of the embryo or
larva depends, are arranged in different cases in different ways: and
they certainly may be, and very frequently are, so distributed that
while each of the first four cells contains a like quantity of each of
these specific substances, arranged in it exactly as they were in the
whole ovum, the next division will sunder these materials in such a way
that of the resulting eight blastomeres four will have more of one of
the primary egg-substances, less of another; the amounts apportioned
to the other four being in just the inverse ratio of this: and the
result will be a difference in the fate of the cells when they are
isolated from one another. In those of the one group the proportions of
the organs developed out of these substances will not be the same as
they are in the other. This is precisely the result which experiment
has revealed; it is exactly this result which Driesch has ignored, or
rather attempted to explain away.

It is evident, then, that to some extent the parts of this mechanism
are interchangeable, that it can be subdivided, and that each part,
brought now under new conditions, will still possess the potentialities
of the whole, just as such a mechanism as a rocket, out of which, under
the appropriate stimulus, a certain pattern of stars is developed,
might be subdivided into two or more rockets of half size or less.
There is, however, a limit to this interchangeability, while if the
subdivision be carried beyond a certain point the totipotence of the
parts is lost.

If the number of these organ-forming substances given in the germ were
very large, as large, let us suppose, as the total number of separately
inheritable characters, it might indeed be difficult to imagine a
mechanism divisible into even two totipotent parts. But from the need
for this assumption we are saved by the second part of Driesch’s own
_Analytische Theorie_, which accounts for subsequent processes of
differentiation by attributing the production of new parts to the
mutual interactions of those that are the first to appear. For this
also experimental evidence, though meagre, is not lacking, while a
close parallel is found in the dependence of certain bodily functions
upon substances--the hormones of Professor Starling--secreted by other
organs.

In the second place the vitalist maintains that the processes of
metabolism defy, nay more, always will defy, chemical and physical
analysis. The first part of this statement may be a true description
of the knowledge of to-day, but the existence in the living body of
the same elements as are met with elsewhere, the synthesis of complex
organic substances, the establishment of the equivalence of the energy
which leaves the body as mechanical work or heat to that which enters
it in chemical form in the food, should surely make us hesitate before
abandoning all hope of attaining to a chemistry of life.

And thirdly, there are physiologists who believe that the complex
phenomena presented to us in the activities of the nervous system are
susceptible of a purely mechanical explanation.

‘A feature’, says Gotch, ‘which more particularly suggests spontaneous
cellular activity is the well-known fact that centrifugal discharges
may continue after the obvious centripetal ones have ceased. This is
pre-eminently the case when the central mass is rendered extremely
unstable by certain chemical compounds, such as strychnine, &c. There
are, however, suggestive indications in connexion with such persistent
discharges. The more completely all the centripetal paths are blocked
by severance and other means, the less perceptible is such persistent
discharge, and since nervous impulses are continually streaming into
the central mass from all parts, even from those in apparent repose,
it would seem that could we completely isolate nerve-cells, their
discharge would probably altogether cease.’ Even in the hyper-excitable
condition produced by strychnine the spinal motor nerve cells do not
discharge centrifugal impulses when cut off from the centripetal
connexions. The physiologist, therefore, has ‘definite grounds for
believing that, as far as present knowledge goes, both the production
and cessation of central nervous discharges are the expression of
propagated changes and that these changes reveal themselves as
physico-chemical alterations of an electrolytic character. The nervous
process, which rightly seems to us so recondite, does not, in the light
of this conception, owe its physiological mystery to a new form of
energy, but to the circumstance that a mode of energy displayed in the
non-living world occurs in colloidal electrolytic structures of great
chemical complexity.’

To all these considerations we must add the fact that life did once
originate upon this planet from matter which was not alive, and that
even now some inorganic phenomena present at least remote analogies
with certain vital processes. Such are the structure, the spontaneous
division, and the regeneration of crystals.

We turn now to the philosophical objections that may be raised to
vitalistic speculations; and here we must be careful to distinguish
what we may term the psychological from the metaphysical form of the
theory.

Driesch has maintained that the belief in a morphaesthetic psychoid
finds support in the philosophies of Kant and Aristotle. Let us examine
the merits of this claim.

Like the scientists of to-day, Kant, in his _Critique of the
Teleological Judgement_, lays it down as a rule that the mechanical
method, by which natural phenomena are brought under general laws of
causation and so explained, should in all cases be pushed as far as
it will go, for this is a principle of the determinant judgement.
There are cases, however, in which this alone does not suffice. The
possibility of the growth and nutrition, above all of the reproduction
and regeneration of organisms, is only fully intelligible through
another quite distinct kind of causality, their purposiveness.
Organisms are not mere machines, for these have simply moving power.
Organisms possess in themselves formative power of a self-propagating
kind, which they communicate to their materials. They are, in fact,
natural purposes, both cause and effect of themselves, in which the
parts so combine that they are reciprocally both end and means,
existing not only by means of one another but for the sake of one
another and the whole. The whole is thus an end which determines the
process, a final cause which brings together the required matter,
modifies it, forms it, and puts it in its appropriate place. Such
purposiveness is internal, for the organism is at once its own cause
and an end to itself, not merely a means to other ends, like a machine
whose purposiveness is relative and whose cause is external.

Such is the principle of the teleological judgement. It is a heuristic
principle rightly brought to bear, at least problematically, upon the
investigation of organic nature, by a distant analogy with our own
causality according to purposes generally, and indispensable to us, as
anatomists, as a guiding thread if we wish to learn how to cognize the
constitution of organisms without aspiring to an investigation into
their first origin.

Could our cognitive faculties rest content with this maxim of the
reflective judgement it would be impossible for them to conceive of the
production of these things in any other fashion than by attributing
them to a cause working by design, to a Being which would be productive
in a way analogous to the causality of intelligence. Natural science,
however, needs not merely reflective but determinant principles
which alone can inform us of the possibility of finding the ultimate
explanation of the world of organisms in a causal combination for
which an understanding is not explicitly assumed, since the principle
of purposes does not make the mode of origination of organic beings
any more comprehensible. And then, in a passage remarkable for its
prophetic insight, Kant proceeds to show how this might be. This
‘analogy of forms’, he says, ‘which with all their difference seem to
have been produced according to a common original type, strengthens our
suspicion of an actual relationship between them in their production
from a common parent, through the gradual approximation of one genus to
another--from those in which the principle of purposes seems to be best
authenticated, that is from man down to the polype, and again from this
down to mosses and lichens, and finally to the lowest stage of nature
noticeable by us, namely, crude matter’. And so the whole technic of
nature, which is so incomprehensible to us in organized beings that
we believe ourselves compelled to think a different principle for it,
seems to be derived from matter and its powers according to mechanical
laws like those by which it operates in the formation of crystals. A
purposiveness must, however, be attributed even to the crude matter,
otherwise it would not be possible to think the purposive form of
animals and plants.

Although there are doubtless in the _Critique_ many obscurities and
inconsistencies, to which we cannot allude now, the general meaning
of Kant’s reflections upon organisms is perfectly clear. He who would
‘complete the perfect round’ of his knowledge must think not only
in beginnings but in ends. The end in the case of a living being is
apparently plain--it is the maintenance and reproduction of its form;
the end in the case of the cosmic process is to be sought in the
ethical, or, in Kantian phraseology, the ‘practical’ concept of the
freedom of the moral consciousness of man.

Such a position is quite intelligible, philosophically, but the
testimony it brings to the theory of the psychoid is of very doubtful
value, as Driesch is well aware. He complains indeed that Kant’s
teleology is descriptive or ‘static’, rather than ‘dynamic’, as is
perfectly true, except in the case of man, a point of which Driesch
naturally makes the most. There are, no doubt, passages where Kant
speaks of ‘a cause which brings together the required matter, modifies
it, forms it and puts it in its appropriate place’; but against these
must be set the explicit statement ‘that if the body has an alien
principle (the soul) in communion with it, the body must either be
the instrument of the soul--which does not make the soul a whit more
comprehensible--or be made by the soul, in which case it would not be
corporeal at all.’ Vitalism can glean small comfort from this. Let us
turn, then, to the second authority.

As we have seen already, the souls or functions of nutrition and
perception are, in the Aristotelian biology, ultimately to be expressed
as alterations or movements of the particles of the body; mind alone is
separable from body and eternal.

In the development of the individual organism the mind comes in from
outside, but the two souls of lower order are present in the σπέρμα, or
κύημα, as Aristotle calls it, which results from the commingling of the
male and female elements, or, as we should say, the fertilized ovum.
The material and efficient causes of development are not, however, both
contributed by each of the parents. ̑̑ The teaching of Aristotle is
that the matter is provided by the female and the female alone. The
egg (or catamenia in mammals) is described as being mere matter (ὕλη),
body (σω̑μα), potentiality (δύναμις), passive (παθητικόν) and merely
quantitative, although it is true that a sort of soul, the nutritive,
is somewhat grudgingly conceded to it, since unfertilized eggs appear
in some sense to be alive. The male element, on the other hand,
provides the principle of motion (ἀρχὴ τη̑ς κινήσεως) and the form
(εἰδος); it is qualitative, it is activity, it produces the perceptive
soul, if it is not itself that soul, and it is responsible for the
‘correct proportionality’ (λόγος) of the organization. The male element
contributes only motion, but no matter; it acts upon the female element
as rennet acts when it coagulates milk, except that the analogy is
incomplete, since the γονή brings about a qualitative and not merely
a quantitative change in the material on which it operates. To this
it imparts the same kind of motion which itself possesses, the motion
which was present in the particles of the food in its final form from
which it was itself derived. The communication of this motion is enough
to set going the machinery (αὐτόματον); the rest then follows of itself
in proper order.

Lastly, the sperm of the male acts like a cunning workman who makes a
work of art, using heat and cold as the workman uses his tools: for
this heat and this cold could never of themselves--by coagulations and
condensations--produce the form of the body as the older naturalists
had supposed, regarding only the efficient and ignoring the formal and
the final cause: for the organic body is not what it is because it is
produced in such and such a fashion, rather it is because it is to be
such and such that it must be developed as it is.

And here lies the kernel of the whole matter. For while Aristotle has
made it perfectly plain that, according to his idea, the soul, at
least its nutritive and perceptive faculties, is to be regarded as a
function of matter and that this function may be ultimately expressed
in terms of movement, and further that development is a mechanism
which is set going by the communication of motion proceeding from the
‘soul’ of the male element and derivable eventually from the motions
into which the ‘functions’ or ‘soul’ of the parent can be resolved to
the mere matter which the female provides, it is equally evident that
he does not regard this mechanical explanation--in terms of material
and efficient causes--as satisfactory or complete. But when we inquire
why, he gives us no certain nor consistent answer. On the one hand,
there are passages in which he tells us that there must be something
which controls the material forces and imposes on them a limit and
proportionality of growth; that the soul makes use of them as the
artist makes use of his implements, and such passages are naturally
interpreted by Driesch in the sense of a ‘dynamic’ teleology; it is the
ψυχή which superintends and controls, and the ψυχή is ‘entelechy’.

Elsewhere, however, we are informed that even the proportionality of
the developing parts is simply the outcome of the motion imparted by
the male, which is _actu_ what the female element only is _potentia_.

Moreover, it may be questioned whether Aristotle ever intended to
imply more than an ‘analogy with the causality of purpose’ when he
uses the figure of the workman and his implements to illustrate his
meaning of the formal cause. The formal cause of a work of art is an
intelligible _vera causa_; it is the idea in the mind of the artist
antecedent to the execution of the work; but the formal or final cause
of an organism, the end which it apparently strives to attain, can
only be said by a metaphor to be prior in time to the existence of the
organism itself. Prior in thought, however, it certainly is, for it
is only the performance of its functions (ἐντελέχεια) by the organism
complete in all its parts that makes the mere mechanism of development
comprehensible to us; the process, therefore, exists for the sake of
the end. Only as efficient cause is the soul prior in time; only so far
as it is prior in thought can it be said to be a final cause.

Such a teleology is, it is obvious, indistinguishable in principle from
the position in which Kant leaves us. It is the position adopted by
Driesch himself in his earlier _Analytische Theorie_, but abandoned in
the _Vitalismus_ in favour of a theory of ‘psychoids’.

Now quite apart from the meaning which Aristotle may or may not have
intended to convey, there are grave objections to this belief. This
‘psychoid’, to which the name ‘entelechy’ is surely misapplied, this
rudimentary feeling and willing, which is aware of the form it desires
to produce, must be psychically at least as complex as the phenomena it
is designed to account for, and stands, therefore, as much in need of
explanation as they; as Kant has observed, this will involve us at once
in an infinite series of such entities. In fact it is only a photograph
of the problem, and not a solution at all.

Again, when we ask what the _modus operandi_ of this cause is, we
get no reply either from Driesch or from any other neovitalist. The
objection that the intervention of a psychical cause in a physical
process is unintelligible, an objection which would probably appeal
to many, may be waived, for in the last resort the connexion between
any--even simple mechanical--causes and effects is equally hard to
understand.

It may, however, be doubted whether these entities are not being
multiplied beyond necessity, and whether the progress of science would
not be better served by an adherence to a simpler philosophy. But even
when it has discarded the psychoid we find vitalism still denying the
possibility of mechanical explanation, still preaching the autonomy of
the organism. The ‘dynamic’ teleology of Driesch has only disappeared
to be replaced by the metaphysical doctrine of the final cause.

We may point out, perhaps, in passing, that the organism is by no means
as autonomous as might be desired. The end towards which the creature
strives, the maintenance and reproduction of its own specific form,
is not a constant _terminus ad quem_, for species are as mortal as
individuals: nor is it always achieved; the autonomy of a worm, which,
bisected in a certain way, regenerates a tail instead of a head, or of
a frog, which, after a particular injury, develops six legs instead
of two, has surely renounced its rights. But, setting this aside, it
must be seriously questioned whether any good purpose is served in
biological discussion by decrying the value of mechanical conceptions
or by confounding two distinct orders of thought. The questions are
grave ones: for the issue at stake is no less than the existence of
physiology as the science of the causes of living activities.

‘Recte ponitur’, said Francis Bacon, ‘vere scire esse per causas
scire.’ The maxim of the great founder of modern inductive science has
been the lode-star of biology in the past, and is still its watchword
to-day. By exact observation and crucial experiment, utilizing every
canon of induction, the activities of the living organism are to
be brought under wide general laws of causation, which will be, in
the first instance, physiological laws--of response to stimuli, of
metabolism, and of growth: by means of these laws predictions can be
made, and verified as often as we please. But no bar can legitimately
be set to the scope of human inquiry; the thought process will not
rest here, and ultimately it may be possible to state the widest
generalizations of biology in chemical and physical, and these again in
purely mechanical terms. The maintenance and evolution of form in the
individual, as well as the larger evolution of form in the race, become
but the final terms in a far vaster cosmic process, from ‘homogeneity
to heterogeneity’.

The idea is, of course, perfectly familiar: it is the analysis of
purely physical causes, carried to its extreme limit. Phenomena are
thought out in terms not of origins merely, but of one origin, and that
one origin is the only mystery that remains. This unification of the
sciences has always been and must still remain the dream and the faith
and the inspiration of the scientific man, and could such an edifice
of the intellect ever be realized, the task of science would have been
completed. Only when this purely deterministic method has been pushed
as far as it will go does science leave off; only where science leaves
off does philosophy begin.

There is an order of time, and there is an order of thought. Science
works in the order of time, and necessarily so: for although science
can never say what constitutes the invariable link between antecedent
and consequent which it terms causal, yet it rightly speaks of the
first as cause, determining the second as effect, since it is its
function to predict from the past which is known to the future which is
not.

But the outlook of philosophy is different. Dissatisfied with the
endless regress of cause and effect, sceptical of first causes and
original homogeneities, out of which by no conceivability could any
heterogeneity have ever been developed, philosophy looks to the end.

The activities of living organisms at least appear to be directed to
an end; they are apparently purposive, and it is this purposiveness
which lends to biology, though built on the fundamental conceptions of
chemistry and physics, peculiar features of its own, and is, of course,
answerable for the teleological language which biologists so frequently
employ. And by a knowledge of the end, the view of science, to which
_qua_ science it cannot too rigidly confine itself, will doubtless be
supplemented and enlarged.

But, plain and definite though the end of an individual life may be,
the end of the race--of the human or any other race--the end of the
universe, are things only to be guessed at, and all we are left with is
an indefinite series of evolving systems emerging out of an infinite
past and fading into an infinite future.

In the final issue, indeed, the last effect is as delusive an _ignis
fatuus_ as the first cause. The philosophy which has rejected one must
divest itself of the other, and seek its end, if anywhere, in the
logical _prius_ of the mind, which, though last in time, is yet first
in thought, since through it alone can that ordered knowledge of nature
which we call science be born and brought to perfection.

[Illustration: From the Italian translation of ‘KETHAM’, VENICE 1493

Plate XXVII. MUNDINUS(?) LECTURING ON ANATOMY]

[Illustration: BIBLIOTHÈQUE NATIONALE MS. fr. 2030 Written in 1314

TO ILLUSTRATE THE ANATOMY OF HENRI DE MONDEVILLE]

[Illustration: BODLEIAN MS. ASHMOLE 399 fo. 34 r

Plate XXVIII. A DISSECTION SCENE _circa_ 1298]




                 A STUDY IN EARLY RENAISSANCE ANATOMY,

                            WITH A NEW TEXT:

               THE ANOTHOMIA OF HIERONYMO MANFREDI (1490)

                           By Charles Singer

         TEXT TRANSCRIBED AND TRANSLATED BY A. MILDRED WESTLAND


    I. Anatomy in the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries          79

   II. Bolognese Works on Anatomy                                 92

  III. Hieronymo Manfredi, Professor at Bologna, 1463-93          97

   IV. The Manuscript _Anatomy_ of Manfredi                      103

    V. Translation of Selected Passages from the _Anothomia_,
         with Commentary                                         106
         (a) The Brain, Cranial Nerves, &c.                      106
         (b) The Eye                                             118
         (c) The Heart                                           122
       Italian Text of the _Anothomia_                           130


I. ANATOMY IN THE FOURTEENTH AND FIFTEENTH CENTURIES

There was little or no progress in the knowledge of anatomy between
the death of Mondino in 1327 and the sixteenth century. This appears
the more remarkable when we recall how widespread was the practice
of dissection during the period. In France, at the University of
Montpellier, public dissections were decreed in the year 1377,[121]
and Catalonian Lerida followed suit in 1391.[122] At Bologna, where
dissection had long been customary, it received official recognition
in the University Statutes in 1405,[123] and the same event took place
at Padua in 1429. Public anatomies were instituted at the University
of Prague in 1460, of Paris in 1478, and of Tübingen in 1485.[124]
For these ‘Anatomies’ the bodies of executed criminals were usually
employed, and therefore the number of subjects available varied
greatly in different localities.[125] In addition to these regular
dissections, there was certainly a considerable amount of post-mortem
examination, surreptitious (Plate XXVIII_b_[126]), or even open (Plate
XXIX[127]), long before Benivieni published his memorable list of
cases.[128]

[Illustration: Fig. 1. From the French translation of Bartholomaeus
Anglicus, Lyons, 1482. The first printed picture of dissection.]

[Illustration: MS. fr. 184 fo. 14 r

Plate XXIX. A POST-MORTEM EXAMINATION. Late XIVth Century]

[Illustration: VATICAN MS. HISPANICE 4804 fo. 8 r

Plate XXX a. A DEMONSTRATION OF SURFACE MARKINGS]

[Illustration: BRISTOL REFERENCE LIBRARY MS. fo. 25 r

Plate XXX b. A DEMONSTRATION OF THE BONES TO ILLUSTRATE GUY DE CHAULIAC]

That so much industry was rewarded by so small an increase in knowledge
may probably be attributed to the method adopted. The so-called
‘anatomies’ were conducted in the most formal manner. Bertuccio, for
example, who succeeded Mondino as professor of Surgery at Bologna, was
accustomed, as we learn from his pupil Guy de Chauliac, to give short
systematic anatomical demonstrations on a fixed and rigid method.[129]
The occupant of the chair at this period was indeed no professor in the
modern sense of the word. To expound the tradition of anatomy as it
had reached him was regarded as the limit of his duty. Of any attempt
to extend the bounds of knowledge, of any systematic endeavour to
correct or improve the anatomical views of his predecessors, we find
little or no trace. Indeed, at Padua it was expressly laid down in the
statutes that the exposition of anatomy should follow the very words of
Mondino.[130]

Early figures portraying the teaching of anatomy (Plate XXVII and
Figs. 1-3, 5) usually show us a medical doctor sitting at a desk, well
removed from the subject of dissection, and reading from his text-book
the description of the part. Meanwhile an assistant, who is usually
also a doctor, performs the actual work of dissection. The professor
of Surgery, to whom the teaching of anatomy was entrusted, stands by
with a pointer to indicate the different organs.

[Illustration: Fig. 2. Title-page of Mellerstadt’s edition of the
_Anatomy_ of Mondino, Leipzig, 1493. The scene is laid in the open
air.[131]]

[Illustration: Fig. 3. A DISSECTION SCENE

From the Venice 1495 edition of ‘Ketham’ (compare Plate XXVII).]

[Illustration: Fig. 4. From the English translation of Bartholomaeus
Anglicus, printed by Wynkyn de Worde, 1495. The first picture of
dissection in an English-printed book.]

[Illustration: VENETIIS ANNO .D. M.CCCCC.XXXV.

Fig. 5. A LECTURE ON ANATOMY

From the 1535 Venice edition of Berengar of Carpi’s Commentary on
Mondino.]

Sometimes the professor changes places with the reader at the desk. In
some later MSS. the teacher is figured as himself handling the body
and demonstrating to his pupil (Plate XXX _a_[132] and _b_[133]), but
there is evidence that the miniatures portraying this are the work of
artists unfamiliar with dissection and with the teaching of anatomy.

The study of anatomy had to contend with two great difficulties, want
of subjects for dissection, and faith in the written word.

Thus, at Bologna, where it was arranged that every medical student of
over two years’ standing should attend an _Anatomy_ once a year, no
less than twenty students were admitted to see the anatomy of each
man, and thirty to the anatomy of each woman.[134] This was all the
practical instruction received. Some other Universities had to be
content with the cadaver of a single criminal per annum for the whole
body of students.

In the _first_ period during which the human body was dissected in
Europe, the thirteenth century, a certain amount of progress was
certainly made, despite the rarity of subjects. The rebirth of learning
in the thirteenth century was not, however, as favourable to anatomical
progress as might have been hoped. Galen, indeed, ceased to be a mere
name, and the Latin translations of his text, or of its adumbra in
the writings of the Arabians, became ever more familiar. On the other
hand, with more authoritative texts in their hands, men were but the
more inclined to follow the evil scholastic way, and to trust rather
to the written words of the master than to the evidence of their own
senses. Thus it came about that the _second_ period, which covers the
fourteenth and most of the fifteenth century, was really stationary
so far as the first-hand knowledge of anatomy was concerned. With
the last decade of the fifteenth century, however, there opens a new
and _third_ period in the history of our subject. From that time
dates the true era of anatomical renaissance, which may be regarded as
continuing until the commencement of modern anatomy with the great work
of Vesalius in 1543.

[Illustration: Plate XXXI. From the MS. of GUY DE VIGEVANO of 1345 at
CHANTILLY]

[Illustration: Plate XXXII. From the MS. of GUY DE VIGEVANO of 1345 at
CHANTILLY]

We have said that throughout the second period, the formal
demonstrations based on the declaimed text of Galen or Avicenna or
Mondino were practically the sole opportunities afforded to either
teacher or pupil for the investigation of the minuter details of the
human frame. But in making this statement concerning the arrest of
anatomical progress, we must expressly exclude the products of the
mighty genius of Leonardo da Vinci (1452-1519), whose anatomical
researches were without influence, and remained long unnoticed.[135]
We must also omit evidence gathered from the work of such early
Renaissance painters as Antonio Pollaiuolo (1429-98) or Andrea del
Verrocchio (1435-88), for these pursued the study of anatomy in a
special field and with a special object.[136] Furthermore, there
are a number of artists of similar date of whose anatomical studies
we have no direct evidence, but who yet outlined the muscles of
the nude human figure in such a way as leads us to suppose that
they had investigated the superficial structures at least of flayed
parts. Such is the suggestion of some of the work of Luca Signorelli
(_c._ 1442–_c._ 1524), and of Andrea Mantegna (died 1506). With
such reservations, however, it is probably true that no evidence is
forthcoming until the last decade of the fifteenth century of any
advance from the standpoint of Mondino.[137]

But if descriptive anatomy developed slowly in the hands of the
physicians, the art of graphic representation of anatomical structures
was still more backward. Several groups of anatomical drawings of
mediaeval date have come down to our time, but examination of them
shows that they have been drawn without direct reference to the human
frame. Some of these figures are of the crude type known as the
‘five-figure series’ (Plate XXXIII), mere traditional diagrammatic
sketches.[138] Hardly better or more instructive are the series of
dissections which illustrate certain MS. works of Henri de Mondeville
(Plate XXVIII _a_)[139] and Guido de Vigevano (Plates XXXI and XXXII),
1345.[140] A few sketches representing the separate organs have also
survived (Fig. 6),[141] but these never suggest that the draughtsman
had before him the structure which he seeks to depict, and the
drawings appear to have been made in order to illustrate contemporary
physiological theory rather than observed anatomical fact. Even the
magnificent illuminated Dresden Codex of Galen, prepared in France or
Flanders as late as the second half of the fifteenth century, betrays
not the slightest first-hand knowledge of anatomy.[142] Although the
illustrations of this MS. are prepared with the utmost technical skill,
they yet show us a teacher exhibiting to his pupils a heart of the form
found on playing-cards, and other anatomical figures scarcely more
faithful to the facts (Plate XXXIV).

[Illustration: Fig. 6. DIAGRAMS OF THE INTERNAL ORGANS

After Bodleian Library MS. Ashmole 399 of about 1298, fos. 23 recto–24
recto.]

The spirit of investigation of the artist who perforce went direct to
nature, dissecting with his own hands and observing with his own eyes
(Plate XXXVI), showed itself indeed far more fruitful than the tedious
_ex cathedra_ methodization of the professor.[143] Yet the system of
the schools needed to be combined with the freedom of the artist for
the production of an effective anatomical work. What the projected
treatise of Marcantonio della Torre (1473–1506) might have been we may
guess from the anatomical sketches of Leonardo da Vinci (Plate XXXV),
who was to have been associated with him in the work.[144] In the
event, however, the medical schools had to wait yet another generation
before the subject was placed on a sound basis by André Vesale.

The Mondino pamphlet--for it is little more--used since its author’s
death in 1327 as a text-book in the schools of northern Italy, was
first printed in 1478. Not until the last decade of the fifteenth
century did there appear another work bearing evidence of the hand of
a practical anatomist. This was an Italian translation of Ketham’s
_Fasciculus medicinae_, impressed at Venice in the year 1493.[145] The
volume comprises Mondino’s pamphlet and a collection of other medical
tracts that were probably put together by Giorgio di Monteferrato from
the work of a writer of the previous century, for their contents are
traceable to a fourteenth-century MS.[146] The text is neither original
nor remarkable, but the Venice volume derives its importance from
certain figures which appear in it for the first time.

Two of these plates are of great interest both intrinsically and also
in relation to the history of anatomy. One of them is the magnificent
representation of a dissection scene, which is regarded as perhaps
the finest example of book illustration produced during the first
century of typography[147] (Plate XXVII). This work of the ‘maître aux
dauphins’, as the unknown artist is called by critics,[148] is doubly
interesting, for it is the subject of an experiment in colour printing,
no less than four pigments being laid on by means of stencils. As
early as 1457 the method of stencilling was employed for colouring the
initials of a Psalter, and in 1485 Erhard Ratdolt in an astronomical
work added yellow to the earlier red and black. The figure from which
our plate is taken represents, however, the first attempt at a complex
colour scheme and leads up to the work of Hugo da Carpi.[149]

In this picture the professor, a youthful figure perhaps intended to
represent Mondino himself, is shown standing at a desk which hides
his book. Around a corpse, laid on a trestle table before him, there
cluster a number of men in doctor’s robes. Their valid faces are
sufficient to convince us that the artist is here presenting us with
portraits. One of the listeners has removed his robe and stands with
upturned sleeves and knife in hand, ready to make the first incision
on the direction of the doctor, who points to the part with a wand
held in the left hand. In the impression of 1495 and in those of later
date, the book appears above the desk, the attitudes of the students
are somewhat changed, and many other details are altered. In all these,
however, the blocks have been recut and the result is artistically
inferior[150] (Fig. 3).

[Illustration: Fig. 7. A FEMALE FIGURE LAID OPEN TO SHOW THE WOMB AND
OTHER ORGANS

From the 1493 Venice edition of ‘Ketham’ translated into Italian. This
is the first printed anatomical figure drawn from the object.]

The second plate from the 1493 Ketham with which we are here concerned
is the outline of a female body, in a traditional pose,[151] laid open
to exhibit some of the internal organs (Fig. 7). These had clearly
been sketched from the object, and therefore this drawing, the first
printed figure of its kind, may be said to introduce the new era for
the investigation of the human frame. The anatomical renaissance had
begun. Into a discussion of the full development of that age we cannot
now enter. But the MS. of Manfredi, with which we have here to deal,
was written at the very dawn of the new era and is itself one of its
earliest documents.


II. BOLOGNESE WORKS ON ANATOMY

An organized Medical Faculty existed at Bologna at least as early
as 1156,[152] though the first record of dissection there is of
considerably later date. In February 1302 a certain Azzolino died under
suspicious circumstances. Poison was suspected, an inquest was held
and a post-mortem examination ordered. The investigation was conducted
by two physicians and three surgeons, who unanimously agreed ‘that
the said Azzolino assuredly met his death by no poison, but on the
contrary, we assert that the quantity of blood collected in the great
vein known as the _vena chilis_ [vena cava][153] and in the veins of
the liver adjacent thereunto, has prevented the due movement of the
_spiritus_ throughout the body, and has thus produced the diminution
or rather extinction of the innate heat and thereby induced a rapid
post-mortem discoloration. Of this condition we have assured ourselves
_by the evidence of our own senses and by the anatomization of the
parts_.’[154]

The first anatomical document emanating from the University of Bologna
is, however, of still earlier date, and is the work of William of
Saliceto (1210?–80). This writer was educated at Bologna, and it is
claimed that he was the first to dissect the human body there.[155] His
_Cyrurgia_, which was completed in 1275 (_editio princeps_, Piacenza,
1476), is divided into five books, of which the fourth and shortest
is devoted to anatomy. Its descriptions are brief and concise. They
are often clearly the result of actual observation, and they show
hardly any trace of the absurd and irritating teleology that the
influence of the Arabians and of Galen made customary in early
anatomical literature. The anatomy of Saliceto appears to us very
sensible and so far as it goes practical. It betrays the method rather
of the Salernitan than of the Arabian anatomical writings, and is on
the whole the best European work of the kind before the Renaissance.
It was, however, soon replaced by the text-book of Mondino di Luzzi
(1285–1327),[156] which, though inferior to that of Saliceto, held the
field until the subject was revolutionized by Vesalius.

[Illustration: Plate XXXIII. The FIVE-FIGURE SERIES BODLEIAN MS.
ASHMOLE 399, about 1292 Fos. 18 r–22 r

VEINS, &c.   ARTERIES   NERVES   BONES   MUSCLES]

[Illustration: From the DRESDEN GALEN MS.

Plate XXXIV. DEMONSTRATIONS OF ANATOMY

Second half of XVth Century]

Mondino was professor at Bologna till his death in 1327. His work,
easily accessible in one of its many editions, ‘is corrupted by the
barbarous leaven of the Arabian schools, and his Latin defaced by
the exotic nomenclature of Avicenna and Rhazes’.[157] But it is not
the language alone that has suffered. The schoolman’s attitude, well
fitted for the classification of ideas, is an ill instrument for the
investigation of Nature, and in the scholastic Mondino the very basis
of scientific judgement is undermined, so that he readily accepts the
views of the ancients against what must often have been the evidence
of his own senses. The work, however useful to the contemporary
student, was thus essentially reactionary as against the efforts of
the earlier Salernitan anatomists and of William of Saliceto. This is
the more remarkable because it is quite clear that he was accustomed
to demonstrate on the actual body--a privilege denied to the early
Salernitan school,--and he was, moreover, a popular and successful
teacher. His work is a manual of dissection rather than a treatise on
anatomy. This, added to its conciseness and brevity, strengthened its
appeal to the ‘practical’ man--an epithet claimed then, as now, by the
majority of stupid and unpractical people. The personal influence and
enthusiasm of its author no doubt helped also towards the phenomenal
success of this work, which for two hundred years held a position
without rival as the text-book of the medical schools of Italy, where
even as late as the sixteenth century Mondino ‘was still worshipped by
all the students as a very god’.[158]

Mondino was succeeded in the chair of Surgery at Bologna by his pupil,
the Lombard Bertuccio, who died in the Black Death of 1347. Bertuccio’s
surviving work is unnoteworthy, but he was the anatomical teacher of
Guy de Chauliac, whose _Surgery_[159] is of great value and was very
influential in standardizing practice, especially in the north and west
of Europe. Nevertheless it appears to us that the anatomical section is
the weakest part of Guy’s great work. The teleology that is a blot in
Mondino has here become a perfect plague, and Guy’s anatomy consists
of one-third description and two-thirds wearisomely reiterated reasons
for the existence of imperfectly described structures. Through Guy
de Chauliac the anatomical tradition of Mondino passed over into the
University of Montpellier.

A later fourteenth-century Bolognese writer was Tommaso di Garbo (died
1370), who did little but comment on Avicenna. A surgeon of the next
generation, however, Pietro d’Argellata, deserves to be remembered for
his description of the examination of the body of Pope Alexander V, who
died suddenly at Bologna on May 4, 1410. His account throws light on
the customary procedure and may be rendered here.[160]

    ‘I ordered the attendants’, he says, ‘first to cut the abdomen
    from the _pomegranate_ [i.e. the Adam’s apple or laryngeal
    cartilage[161]] to the os pectinis [i.e. the symphysis pubis].
    Then, so that they should not rupture the intestines, I myself
    sought the rectum and ligatured it in two places and then cut it
    between. Next I removed all the intestines as far as the duodenum
    and dealt with them as with the rectum, and so I had the intestines
    clean and without fetor. After this I extracted the liver, seizing
    its ligaments; then the spleen and then the kidneys, and these
    were all placed together in a jar. I now passed to the spiritual
    members [i.e. the thorax] and removed lung and heart and all
    their ligaments. Then I ligatured the _meri_ [the Arabian term
    for oesophagus] and removed the stomach. When this had been done
    there were some who wished to remove the tongue but knew not how. I
    however cut under the chin and extracted the tongue through that
    hole, together with _trachea arteria_ [trachea] and _meri_. Then
    I passed to the _arteria adorti_ [aorta] and _vena chilis_ [vena
    cava]. Lastly I removed the ligatured remnant of the intestines as
    far as the anal margin.’

Giovanni da Concoreggio (died 1438), who was lector in Surgery at
Bologna in the early part of the fifteenth century, left a few
anatomical observations of little note,[162] and not very much more
can be said for his successors and Manfredi’s contemporaries Gabriele
Gerbi (de Zerbis, died 1505) and Alessandro Achillini (1463-1512).
Gerbi[163] does little but repeat in the most verbose fashion the work
of Mondino and of Avicenna, some of whose errors, however--e.g. the
three ventricles of the heart--he omits. He wrote also an anatomy of
the infant, or rather of the foetus,[164] and a treatise taken mainly
from Avicenna’s _De generatione embryonis_. Like all his work, these
are in the full scholastic style of a professor of Logic, a position to
which, in fact, he ultimately attained.

Achillini’s work[165] is but a slight advance on that of Gerbi. It is
really little else than a note-book for students, and gives the baldest
directions for dissection, accompanied by a few comments taken from
Avicenna. Achillini occasionally ventures to criticize Mondino, and
his work has at least the advantage of brevity. He has a claim to be
remembered in that he was the first to describe the duct of Wharton and
is said to have been the first to describe the ear ossicles, malleus
and incus. Achillini, like Gerbi, was a windy and very ‘scholastic’
disputator. He was best known to his contemporaries as a supporter of
the philosophy of Averroes. In 1506, when driven from Bologna with the
other supporters of Bentivoglio, he became professor of Philosophy at
Padua.

[Illustration: Fig. 8. THE ABDOMINAL MUSCLES

From Berengar of Carpi’s Commentary on Mondino, Bologna, 1521.]

With Giacomo Berengario da Carpi we come at length to one who
definitely advanced the science, and who may be regarded as the
first modern anatomist, so far as printed works are concerned. He
was professor of Surgery from 1502 to 1527, and during that period
published his great anatomical work.[166] This volume, though modestly
put forward as a commentary on Mondino, is in reality an original
contribution of great value. It is the earliest anatomical treatise
that can properly be described as having figures illustrating the text
(Fig. 8).[167] Carpi does not hesitate to criticize the work on which
he comments--as for instance when he denies the existence of the ‘rete
mirabile’ below the brain, though descriptions of the ‘rete mirabile’
had been based on the statement of no less an authority than Galen.
Furthermore he was the first to describe the vermiform appendix, and
he gave the earliest correct account of several other organs, e.g.
the choroid plexus and the olfactory nerves. He was an industrious
dissector, and he tells us that he had examined more than a hundred
bodies.

With Carpi we close our series of Bolognese anatomists. Into that
group we now proceed to fit the writer with whom we are here specially
concerned, Hieronymo Manfredi.

[Illustration: From a drawing in the Library, WINDSOR CASTLE

Plate XXXV. VIEW OF THE INTERNAL ORGANS LEONARDO DA VINCI]

[Illustration: From a Drawing in the ASHMOLEAN MUSEUM, OXFORD,
attributed to BARTOLOMEO MANFREDI (1574?–1602)

Plate XXXVI. THE TWO FIGURES DISSECTING ARE TRADITIONALLY SAID TO
REPRESENT MICHELANGELO AND ANTONIO DELLA TORRE]

III. HIERONYMO MANFREDI

Hieronymo Manfredi was a member of a family that had already for more
than two centuries provided distinguished citizens, and especially
physicians, to the city of Bologna.[168] He was born about the year
1430 and was educated at the University of Bologna. Here in 1455 he was
_laureatus_ in Philosophy and Medicine, and here he became professor of
the latter subject in 1463.[169]

During the second half of the fifteenth century, a perfect mania for
the study of astrology infected Italy and penetrated equally into the
Court, the Church, and the Academy. The profession of Medicine was
far from immune, and at the University of Bologna, where a chair of
Astrology had long been established,[170] the study was pursued with
ardour and enthusiasm. Here Manfredi early devoted himself to that
will-o’-the-wisp, the pursuit of which absorbed and sterilized many
of the best intellects of his day. By the year 1469 he was already
regarded as an authority on the vainest of studies,[171] and as the
years went on he seems to have devoted himself to it ever more and
more. The generally credulous character of Manfredi’s astrological
ideas may be gathered from the page of his _Prognosticon ad annum
1479_ which we here reproduce (Fig. 10).

The history of Manfredi’s connexion with the University of Bologna may
be briefly told. He appears for the first time on the professorial
roll in 1462, when we find him giving the ‘extraordinary’ lectures
on Philosophy, a subject then regarded as under especial charge of
the physicians. In 1465 he was conducting the ‘ordinary’ course
in Philosophy, and at the same time giving occasional lectures
on Medicine. In the following year he was called to the chair of
Theoretical Medicine, and in 1469 he helped the Faculty out of a
difficulty by giving lectures on ‘Astronomia’ in place of the aged
professor Giovanni de Fundis. The latter died in 1474, and from
that date onward Manfredi assumed responsibility for the course on
‘Astronomia’. Among the colleagues who joined him were Gabriele
de Gerbi, who became lecturer on Logic in 1476, Filippo Beroaldo,
who became lecturer on Rhetoric and Poetry in 1479, and Alessandro
Achillini, who became lecturer on Logic in 1484.[172]

Such was the regard for Manfredi’s powers of astrological prediction
that to all the University announcements of his course of lectures on
Astronomy is added ‘cum hoc quod faciat iudicium et tachuinum’.[173]
In spite of his proficiency in the science, however, he was unable to
foretell his own death. Giovanni Pico della Mirandola writes of him
thus derisively:

    ‘quo anno [1493] obiit omnimoda[m] uite incolumitate[m] fuerat
    pollicitus Hieronymus manfredus astrologus nostra aetate
    singularis: a quo tamen nihil mirandum minus praeuisam aliorum
    mortem: qui nec suam ipse praeuiderit: nam cum proxima estate
    uita sit functus: in istius tame[n] anni publico uaticinio qui
    s[cilicet] ei fuit fatalis: multa & mira sequenti anno dicturum
    se non semel pollicebatur. Qui nescio oppignoratam fidem quomodo
    reluet: nisi forte de caelo uerius nunc terrena despiciat q[uam] de
    terra oli[m] caelestia suspiciebat.’[174]

Manfredi died in 1493 and was buried in the church of Santa Margarita
in Bologna. This church no longer exists, but it contained in the
eighteenth century a tomb bearing the inscription:

        HIERON. MANFREDO BONON. PHILOSOPHO AC MEDICO
        SVAE AETATIS NEMINI SECVNDO ASTRONOMORVMQVE
              CITRA INVIDIAM FACILE PRIMARIO.
               POSVIT SVPERSTES IOAN. FILIVS
                     SVISQVE POSTERIS.
                      VALE ATQVE ILLVM
                      VALERE OPTA.[175]

Manfredi left a widow, Anna, who was still living in 1496 with a
household of ten persons in the Via S. Margarita.[176] The houses on
one side of this street backed on the very walls of the buildings
belonging to the ‘University of Medicine’,[177] and we may suppose that
Hieronymo Manfredi had resided here on that account. His surviving son,
Giovanni, lived hard by in the Via S. Antonio di Padoa.

It cannot be said that Manfredi’s printed works suggest great
scientific attainments. All are permeated by the same astrological
obsession. They comprise the following:

(_a_) The _editio princeps_ of Ptolemy’s _Cosmographia_ and _Tabulae
Cosmographiae_, the best-known printed work to which Manfredi’s name is
attached. He was associated in its production with the famous scholar
Filippo Beroaldo, and the finely produced volume was published at
Bologna in 1472 (?),[178] and dedicated to the memory of Pope Alexander
V (died 1410). It is interesting as containing the first printed map of
England (Fig. 9). At the end of the work we read:

    ‘Accedit mirifica imprimendi tales tabulas ratio. Cuius
    inuentoris laus nihil illorum laude inferior. Qui primi litterarum
    imprimendarum artem pepererunt in admirationem sui studiosissimum
    quemque facillime conuertere potest. Opus utrumque summa adhibita
    diligentia duo Astrologiae peritissimi castigaueru[n]t Hieronimus
    Mamfredus & Petrus bonus. Nec minus curiose correxerunt summa
    eruditione prediti Galeottus Martius & Colla montanus. Extremam
    emendationis manum imposuit philippus b[e]roaldus.’

[Illustration: THE FIRST PRINTED MAP OF ENGLAND.

From the 1472 (?) Bologna Ptolemy, edited by Manfredi and others.]

(_b_) _Liber de homine: cuius su[n]t libri duo. Primus liber de
conservatione sanitatis_.... [Liber secundus de causis in homine
circa compositione[m] eius], Bologna, 1474. The work is in Italian,
and consists of a number of paragraphs, each beginning with the word
‘perchè’. There is a servile dedicatory epistle in Latin addressed
to Giovanni Bentivoglio. The first book is concerned with diet, and
occupies two-thirds of the volume. The second book answers questions
on the subject of physiognomy and bears resemblance in many passages
to the _Anatomy_. It is taken in the main from the pseudo-Aristotelian
_Problemata_. The book is without pagination or figures. It is well
printed, and illuminated examples are not infrequently encountered.

This work was very popular. In 1478, during the lifetime of its author,
it was audaciously pirated at Naples with the following _incipit_:
‘Incomenza el Libro chiamato della uita costumi natura & om[n]e altra
cosa pertine[n]te tanto alla conservatione della sanita dellomo quanto
alle cause et cose humane. Co[m]posto per _Alberto Magno_ filosofo
excellentissimo.’

In 1497, after Manfredi’s death, the work appeared in black-letter
folio at Bologna, with its author’s original dedication slightly
altered. The text in this edition commences, ‘Perchel sophio nele cose
che noi viuemo: & lo indebito modo del viuere nostro: induce in noi
egritudine’.

In 1507 it appeared at Venice in small black-letter quarto as _Opera
noua intitulata Il perche utilissima ad intendere la cagione de molte
cose_. By this title, _Il Perchè_, the work, which ran through numerous
editions, has usually been known. It continued to be reprinted as late
as 1668.

(_c_) A treatise on the Plague: _Tractate degno & utile de la
pestile[n]tia co[m]posto p[er] el famosissimo philosopho medico &
astrologo maestro Hieronymo di manfredi da Bologna_, Bologna, 1478.
This was translated into Latin by the author himself in the same year.
The work owes much to Avicenna, but contains some original clinical
observations, and shows a certain independence of the prevailing spirit
of the age by quoting opinions of contemporary as well as of ancient
physicians. The remedies are similar to those recommended by John
of Bourdeaux in his widely distributed tract on the plague, and are
probably derived ultimately from the _Regimen Sanitatis Salerni_.

(_d_) _Prognosticon ad annum 1479_, Bologna, 1478. We reproduce the
terminal page of this work (Fig. 10).

[Illustration: Fig. 10. The last page of Manfredi’s _Prognosticon ad
annum 1479_, Bologna, 1478.]

[Illustration: From his tomb in the Church of S. Giacomo Maggiore at
Bologna

Plate XXXVII. GIOVANNI BENTIVOGLIO II]

[Illustration: BRIT. MUS. MS. ROY. 7 F VIII, fo. 50 v

Plate XXXVIII a. ROGER BACON’S DIAGRAM OF THE EYE.

XIIIth Century]

[Illustration: From a drawing in WINDSOR CASTLE

Plate XXXVIII b. LEONARDO DA VINCI’S DIAGRAM OF THE HEART

Early XVIth Century]

(_e_) _Prognosticon anni 1481_, in which is embodied _Oratio contra
turcos & hostes Christianorum_, s. 1. Jan. 1481.

(_f_) _Centilogium de medicis et infirmis_, Bologna, 1488. With a
dedication to Bentivoglio. This short work is wholly astrological, and
consists of one hundred precepts concerning the relationship of the
stars to various diseases and conditions. Reprinted Venice, 1500, and
Nuremberg, 1530.

The following three works are attributed to Manfredi, but are not
mentioned in Hain, Copinger, or Reichling’s lists of Incunabula; we
have not seen any of them and their existence is doubtful.

(_g_) _Ephemerides astrologicae operationes medicas spectantes_,
mentioned in the _Biographisches Lexikon der hervorragenden Aerzte_ of
E. Gurlt and A. Hirsch. Possibly it represents another edition of (_e_).

(_h_) _Quaestiones subtilissimae super librum aphorismorum_, Bologna,
1480 (?), mentioned by Haller.[179] Possibly it represents another
edition of (_b_).

(_i_) _Chiromantia secundum naturae vires ad extra_, Padua, 1484,
mentioned by Haller.[179]


IV. THE MANUSCRIPT ANATOMY OF MANFREDI

The MS. of Manfredi’s _Anatomy_ is in the Bodleian Library at Oxford
(Canon. Ital. 237, Western 20287). It is a fairly preserved small
quarto parchment, originally of forty-nine folios, of which the third
and fourth are missing. The writing is in the fine Italian hand that
the printed type of the period was accustomed to imitate. There are no
figures or illuminations, but the titles are rubricated in burnished
gold or in colours.

There is no reference to this work in any account of Manfredi, and the
volume itself appears to be quite unknown. Neither the man nor his work
is mentioned in Medici’s detailed history of the anatomical school at
Bologna[180] nor in Martinotti’s recent study on the same topic,[181]
nor is any MS. of Manfredi included in Mazzatinti’s monumental
catalogue of the MSS. in the Italian libraries.[182]

Manfredi’s MS. is written in the involved Italian of the day, with
sentences of inordinate length. These general characters of style are
encountered also in his published works. The dedication is in Latin, of
the same unpleasing quality, and is couched in the usual subservient
manner. It is addressed to Giovanni Bentivoglio, and in it Manfredi
relates that

    ‘Your illustrious lordship Johannes Bentivolus in this present
    year 1490 with your usual humanity condescended on one occasion to
    watch the dissection of a corpse.... It was then that you saw the
    wonderful works of Nature in the anatomy ... and you parentally
    urged me, Hieronymo Manfredi, to inscribe to your most noble name
    this work on anatomy.... I therefore extracted this work as best I
    might from various works of antiquity and abbreviated it. I have
    not followed their order, but I have so composed it that the work
    should be pleasing to your lordship.

    ‘Accept then, O great and powerful lord, this work on the anatomy
    of the human body inscribed to your noble name! Accept it with your
    customary benevolence and humanity and in a kindly and gracious
    spirit, for it will be pleasing to you and will delight you
    greatly, for it is a worthy work!’

The Giovanni Bentivoglio (Plate XXXVII), with adulation of whom
Manfredi was thus accustomed to plaster his works, was the second of
the name and was the son of Annibale Bentivoglio. In the year 1462
he became head of the republic of Bologna, and played there much the
same rôle as did Lorenzo de’ Medici at Florence. He adorned Bologna
with numerous buildings,[183] and acted as patron of the arts and the
sciences. The Palazzo dei Bentivogli still stands as a memorial to him
and his family. A stern and high-handed tyrant, he held his position
until 1506, when he was expelled and the city reverted to the papacy.
He died two years later.

It is remarkable to find a man of Bentivoglio’s eminence and position
taking an interest in the practical study of anatomy. Other Italian
rulers, Lorenzo de’ Medici among them, encouraged and legalized the
practice of dissection, but probably Bentivoglio is the only one
recorded as having patronized an ‘anatomy’ in person. The interest
taken in the subject by the heads of states must have been of great
value to the artists whose patrons they were.

The MS. is a unique copy, and was doubtless written for presentation to
Bentivoglio. That it was never printed is perhaps due to the fact that
Manfredi died within a comparatively short time of its composition. It
represents the most satisfactory post-mediaeval account of the human
frame until the appearance of the work of Berengario da Carpi in 1521.
It is more complete than the work of William of Saliceto or of Mondino
or the anatomy erroneously attributed to Richardus Anglicus; it is more
natural than the book of Gabriele de Gerbi, and is far superior to the
crude contemporary sketches of Hundt, Peyligk, and Achillini, while
it wastes less space than Guy de Chauliac on teleology, though it has
none of the charm of the work of that great surgeon. In one respect at
least, viz. the spirit in which it is written, Manfredi’s _Anatomy_
is original and probably unique for its age. There is no reason to
doubt the assurance of the dedication that it was composed for the
edification of the tyrant of Bologna, and for the simple purpose of
setting forth the wonderful structure of man’s body without thought of
any medical application.

The sources of the MS. are obvious. It is in the main a rearranged
and on the whole improved Mondino, but amplified by reference to
translations from Galen, Rhazes, Haly Abbas, and Avicenna. Guy
de Chauliac has perhaps also been used. The work gives a general
impression of being the product of a practical dissector, and it
provides us with a good example of early Renaissance anatomy as taught
in the Italian schools before the reforms of Vesalius. It is perhaps
the first complete treatise on its subject written originally in the
vernacular.[184] It exhibits, however, no other original features nor
any considerable departures from its sources, and it may be taken to
represent, with but little modification, the tradition of Mondino as
developed at his own University of Bologna at the end of the fifteenth
century.

Manfredi’s work, however, if not original is at least eclectic, and
the variety of its sources indicates a dawning consciousness of the
unwisdom of trusting to the infallibility of any one writer. The work
is thus in a sense intermediate between the early printed versions
of Mondino, such as that of 1478, and the edition published in 1528
by Berengario da Carpi with its frank commentary of the master.
All represent stages towards the freedom of the later Renaissance
investigators.

We reproduce the text in full, and the passages on the head, on the
eye, and on the heart, are rendered into English. All are similar to
the accounts of Mondino. We are able to illustrate them by figures
from contemporary works, and thus to give an idea of the limits of the
anatomical knowledge of the day.


V. TRANSLATION OF SELECTED PASSAGES FROM THE ANATOMY, WITH COMMENTARY

(_a_) THE HEAD

Tractate i, Chapter 2

(folio 5 verso) There are ten layers of the head.

The _first_ is the _hair_ made by nature for the better protection of
the head from external things, and also for beauty.

The _second_ part is the _skin_, which has here to be very thick, so
that the hair may be firmly embedded, having its roots thick and long;
and also to be a better shield and covering for the bone and brain,
since there is no muscular part here.

The _third_ part is the _flesh_, developed only on the face, the
temples, and about the jaws, not on the other parts.

The _fourth_ part is an external membrane called _almochatim_ [Arabian
term for cranial periosteum] which, when the skin is raised, appears
to be continuous and covers the whole cranium. And nature made this
membrane firstly so that the skin which is soft should not come into
contact with the hard bone, secondly that the bone of the head should
have sensation through it, and thirdly that the internal membrane of
the head, called _dura mater_, should, by means of this membrane, be
attached to the bone of the cranium by certain nerves and ligaments.
These, issuing through the commissures of the bones, have thus their
origin in the aforesaid internal membrane, while on emerging through
the bone, they weave themselves into or rather compose the external
membrane called _almochatim_.

The _fifth_ part is the _skull_. This is a bone like a cap, inside
the cavity of which is located the brain. In the skull are four bones
sutured together. Nature made the skull not of one but of many pieces,
firstly, so that if harm should fall on one part it might not spread
to the others; secondly, so that by their joints or rather sutures
[Italian _cusiture_=sewings], the humours of the brain might be the
better exhaled; and thirdly, so that when there is need of applying
medicines, these might the better penetrate to the parts within.

Hence it is that four pieces of bone are sutured and joined together
by nature in a denticulate fashion, so that they might be the firmer
and stronger. Nor are they bound with ligaments as are the joints, for
these would not have been so strong, and furthermore the bones of the
head do not need to move.

These sutures are five in number, three being true and two false.
The true sutures are those which pass right through the bone, while
the false do not. Of the true sutures one is in the anterior part
and is called _coronal_; it is made like the letter C, and stretches
from right to left of the head, the two wings of the C being directed
towards the forehead. The second true suture extends along the length
of the head, beginning from the coronal and reaching the back part
of the head. It is like a shaft or rather arrow that goes backwards
from the brow, wherefore it is called _sagittal_ ----(. The third true
suture is in the posterior part and is called laudal, for it is made
like a Λ, the letter called by the Greeks _lauda_. The sagittal suture
extends from the coronal to the lauda ❯----(.

The false sutures are two, one on each side. They are called _cortical_
because they do not penetrate.

Now if we consider these five sutures we shall see that there are four
bones articulated together. One is the forehead bone [frontal] which
begins at the coronal and ends below at another suture, which itself
begins as a branch of the coronal suture and proceeds by way of the
eyebrow to the corresponding branch [of the other side] Ɑ.

A second bone is behind and terminates at the laudal suture. There are
two other bones which form the temples. These terminate at the false
sutures which themselves begin at the laudal and end at the coronal
suture.

The _sixth_ part [of the head] consists of two membranes. One of these
is called _dura mater_, and lies in contact with the cranium. The other
is called _pia mater_ and is in contact with and covers the brain.
And nature contrived it thus, having great solicitude for this latter
member, that while close to the bone, it should yet not be touched
by it. Wherefore, taking due precautions, she made the one [membrane]
harder than the other. Furthermore she made two membranes, so that if
harm befell one of them, it might not be communicated to the underlying
brain.

In the _pia mater_ are woven certain veins by which the brain is
nourished. [The brain is] everywhere covered by it except on the
posterior part; because this part being dry, it has no need of this
membrane, as have the anterior and middle parts. The two membranes in
many places penetrate the substance of the brain, dividing it into
a right and a left, a front and a back section. By this division,
divers cells or rather small chambers are made therein, in which the
soul (_anima_) performs its divers operations, for which reason it is
necessary that these parts should be of different structure.

When the two membranes are raised, the _seventh_ part of the head,
namely the brain itself, appears. The brain is wrought by nature so
that the _vital spirit_ from the torrid heart should be tempered by
its cold, for here it is converted into _animal spirit_, which is the
beginning of the perceptive (_cognoscitiue_) and motive processes.

The brain is of a substance like marrow, white, soft, and viscous, and
from it the nerves arise. The anterior part is moister, softer, and
less cold than the posterior because the senses [_sentimenti_ = senses
+ mental processes], which are themselves moist and soft, have here
their origin. In the posterior part the motor nerves arise, and it is
therefore drier and firmer.

The brain is divided into three parts or ventricles. The first
ventricle or anterior part is itself divided into two, right and left,
and is moreover larger than any of the other ventricles, for in this
first ventricle nature has placed the two faculties subservient to
perception (_al cognoscere_). One of these is called _common sensation_
(_senso comune_); in it the external senses terminate as at a centre
and deliver the _images_ or rather _species_ of sensible things, so
that this faculty may perceive and distinguish between one sensible
thing and another, and also comprehend the operations of particular
senses; which two things none of these [senses of themselves can do].
The other faculty of the first ventricle is called _fantasia_ and by
some _imagination_; it retains and preserves the _species_ of sensible
things in the absence of the material objects themselves.

When thou examinest the first ventricle thou wilt see three things
before thou comest to the second ventricle.

[_a_] The first is itself double, and is formed of the very substance
of the brain, so that it forms the base of the anterior ventricle both
right and left [= corpora striata].

[_b_] To the side of this is another thing like a subterranean worm,
red as blood, yet tethered by certain ligaments and nervelets [=
choroid plexus and taenia semicircularis]. And this worm when it
lengthens itself closes these passages, and thus blocks the path
between the first ventricle and the second. Nature has wrought it thus,
so that when a man wills he may cease from cogitation and thought; and
similarly when, on the other hand, he would think and contemplate, this
worm contracts itself again and opens these passages and thus frees the
way between one ventricle and another.

[_c_] The third structure is a little lower and is a _lacuna_ or
rounded concavity [= infundibulum]. In the middle of this is a hole
which passes down towards the palate, and this lacuna provides also
a direct passage which descends from the middle ventricle to its
_colature_ [= sieve-like structure, i.e. certain parts of the sphenoid
bone]. And this lacuna has around it certain large round eminences
which support the veins and arteries that ascend to the ventricle. This
passage is wide above and narrow below, and by it the first and second
ventricles purge themselves of their superfluities, but the anterior
part [of the first ventricle] purges itself more by the colature of the
nose [= cribriform plate]. Thus nature has made two passages to cleanse
the superfluities of the brain.

When thou hast seen these three structures there will appear the
second or middle ventricle which is as a passage and transit from the
anterior to the posterior ventricle. Here are two faculties. One,
the _estimative_, deduces [Italian _elicere_] the insensible from
the sensible. The other, called the _cognitive_, comprehends both
things sensible and things insensible, synthesizing and analysing
them (_componendo e dividendo_). These [two] faculties in the middle
ventricle minister to the intellect. Now all the other faculties
described, and even the power of memory, are found in brute animals,
but this [intellectual power] is encountered in man alone.

Now will appear the third ventricle in the posterior part; and it is
hard, for it gives rise to the greater part of the motive nerves which
are of a strong and firm nature. This ventricle is pyramidal in shape,
and culminates in an apex directed upwards where images of visible
things (_spetie_) are conserved, for these are better stored in a
strait than in an ample space; but the part below is wide to receive
these images, which are better received in an ample than in a strait
place. This ventricle has two functions: it gives rise to the spinal
cord [_nucha_, an Arabian term] and motor nerves; and it is also the
storehouse of the _memorative_ faculties.

From what [has been said] it will be apparent that when the back of the
head is injured, the memory immediately suffers; when the middle part
is injured, the estimative and cognitive faculties suffer; and when
the anterior part is injured, the faculties of common sensation and of
imagination (_fantasia_) suffer. And thus it is that the doctors have
become aware of the location of these powers.

This being disposed of, thou wilt next raise the brain carefully so as
not to break the nerves. Commencing now with the part in front, there
will first appear two small fleshy protuberances like two nipples, of
like substance to the brain in which they originate, and covered by a
thin membrane, the pia mater. These are the olfactory organs, wherein
is the sense of smell.

From the brain arise seven pairs of nerves. Proceed therefore farther
with the anterior part, and thou wilt see the first pair of these
nerves, which are large, and called the _nervi optici_. These have
their origin in the front ventricle of the brain and proceed towards
the eyes. But before they pass through the pia mater, they join
together, and at their place of union there is a perforated spot.
Galen maintains that these nerves only join or rather unite, but do
not intersect, so that the nerve that comes from the right after union
returns again towards the right, and similarly with the nerve coming
from the left, which after the union returns towards the left eye.[185]
But Rhazes maintains the contrary,[186] although the opinion of Galen
is the more common. These nerves are subservient to sight, and they are
united so that the images of the things received by the two eyes and
conveyed by the two nerves should return in unity; so that one thing
should not appear as two.

After these two nerves, raise the brain towards its middle and thou
wilt see another pair of nerves, thin and firm, which also go to the
eyes, to give them voluntary movement, controlling certain muscles.

Farther on thou wilt see the third pair of nerves, one part of which
goes to the face to give it sensation and voluntary movement, while
another part goes to give taste to the tongue. Yet a third part of
these nerves mingles with the fourth[187] pair of nerves, and together
they descend to give sensation to the diaphragm, stomach, and other
viscera. A certain part also of the fourth[187] pair of nerves goes to
give sensation to the palate.

Then there is the fifth pair of nerves [which] go to the _petrous_ bone
around the ear; and of these nerves there are framed in the ear-holes
certain membranes, which are the organs of hearing.

Next there is the sixth pair of nerves, which divides into three parts.
One part goes to the muscles of the throat, the second to the muscles
of the shoulders, and the third and largest descends to the epiglottis
and to the diaphragm, and spreads into the chest, the heart, and the
lungs, accompanying the nerves of the third pair. From the nerves of
this sixth pair which go to the epiglottis arise the nerves of the
voice, called _reversive_.

The seventh pair of nerves arise at the back of the brain and give
voluntary movement to the tongue.

Of these seven pairs of nerves, the first two pairs originate in the
anterior part of the brain, the third pair originates between the
anterior and posterior parts, while the remaining four pairs originate
in the posterior part.

Proceeding still farther, the brain may be completely raised, and
the eighth part of the head will appear, that is, the two membranes
situated below the brain. When these in turn are raised there will
appear the ninth part, which is a certain net called _rethe mirabile_,
because it is composed of exceedingly strong and marvellous texture,
augmented by certain very fine arteries which are branches of arteries
that ascend from the heart, and are called the _apoplectic arteries_.
In these arteries of this net is contained the vital spirit, sent from
the heart to be changed to animal spirit. That the spirit may be the
better modified and distributed, nature made these arteries very fine,
and separated them into very small branches so that the spirit should
be minutely divided. Nature placed the rethe mirabile under the brain
because it was necessary to guard its site carefully, and also that the
moist vapours of the brain which fall upon the net, obstructing it,
should induce natural sleep.

After all these things thou wilt see the basal bone which is the tenth
and last part of the head, and called _basilar_, because it is the
base and foundation of the whole head; and it was made hard so that
the superfluities which descend to it should not putrefy it. This bone
can be seen to be formed of many other bones articulated together.
It is divisible into the petrous bones and the bones of the nose and
eyes and two other lateral bones which can only be seen by means of
disarticulation. [Folio 10 verso, line 22.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: Fig. 11. From M. Hundt, _Antropologium, de hominis
dignitate natura et proprietatibus_, Leipzig, 1501. The figure shows
the ten layers of the head, the cerebral ventricles and cranial nerves,
and the relation of the nerves to the senses.]

[Illustration: Fig. 12. THE LAYERS OF THE HEAD

From the _Anatomia_ of Johannes Dryander, Marburg, 1537.]

The ten parts or layers of the head are a commonplace of the anatomy of
the period, taken from Avicenna. We may illustrate the division by the
crude contemporary diagram of Fig. 11, which is improved in the later
drawing reproduced in Fig. 12.

Manfredi’s account of the brain itself is amplified from Mondino. The
division of this organ into three ventricles, each associated with
a corresponding division of the mental functions, was very familiar
to medical writers of the fifteenth century. The idea is found among
Western writers as early as St. Augustine (354-430), and is encountered
in the writings of Roger Bacon (1214-94). It had long been popularized
in mediaeval psychology by the writings of Albertus Magnus (1206-80).
The anatomical distinction is found in Haly Abbas, Avicenna, and
Rhazes, and in some of the best MSS. of the latter writer a rough
diagram of the ventricles is given.[188] These writers are all clearly
indebted to the anatomy of Galen,[189] but on the psychological
side Albertus Magnus probably drew mainly either from Ghazali[190]
(1059-1111), who in turn derived his inspiration from Nemesius (fourth
century) and Johannes Damascenus (died 756), or else from early
writers of the Salernitan tradition, such as Constantine[191] (eleventh
century), or Petrocello[192] (twelfth century), who drew largely on
Theophilus (seventh century).[193]

[Illustration: Fig. 13. From _Illustrissimi philosophi et theologi
domini Alberti magni compendiosum insigne ac perutile opus Philosophiae
naturalis_, Venice, 1496, showing the ventricles of the brain.]

This outline of a tripartite division of the brain and its cavities was
closely followed throughout the Middle Ages, as was also the curiously
naïve and excessively ‘materialistic’ psychology to which it gave rise,
and which Manfredi adopts. We illustrate his views of the relationship
of the different parts of the brain and their parallelism in mental
processes, from a series of diagrams extracted from contemporary works
(Figs. 13-18).

[Illustration: Fig. 14. Diagram of the senses, the humours, the
cerebral ventricles, and the intellectual faculties. MS. Sloane 2156,
folio 11 recto, in the British Museum, being a copy written in 1428 of
the _De Scientia Perpectiva_ of Roger Bacon]

[Illustration: Fig. 15. From K. Peyligk’s _Philosophiae naturalis
compendium_, Leipzig, 1489. Illustrating the general ideas on anatomy
current at the Renaissance.]

[Illustration: Fig. 16. The cerebral ventricles from above and from the
side. According to K. Peyligk, _Philosophiae naturalis compendium_,
Leipzig, 1489.]

[Illustration: Fig. 17. The localization of cerebral functions. From
the Italian edition of ‘Ketham’, _Fasciculus Medicinae_, Venice, 1493.]

[Illustration: Fig. 18. From G. Reisch, _Margarita philosophiae_,
Leipzig,? 1503. Diagram of the ventricles and the senses with their
relation to the intellectual processes according to the doctrine of the
Renaissance anatomists.]

The brain was regarded by mediaeval and early Renaissance anatomists
as having two channels of discharge through which the _phlegm_, the
especial product of this organ, could be evacuated when in excess.
One of these channels communicated with the anterior ventricle of the
brain and poured its secretion into the nose. It may be identified
with the _anterior colature_ or cribriform plate. The second, the
_lacuna_, led down from the second ventricle and poured its secretion
into the pharynx. It may be identified with the infundibulum, pituitary
body, and ‘cella turcica’. The term ‘pituitary’ which we still use is
derived from its supposed association with the ‘pituita’ or phlegm. At
an early date this process was connected with the four humours (Fig.
14). The rest of the description of the brain can be easily followed.
The comparison of the choroid plexus to a worm is very common. The
suggestion originated with Galen and was developed by the Arabians.

COMPARATIVE TABLE OF ANCIENT AND MODERN NOMENCLATURE OF CRANIAL NERVES.

  _Mondino and Manfredi following Galen, |
    especially in the_ περὶ χρείας τω̑ν ἐν     |     _Modern usage._
    ἀνθρώπου σώματι μορίων. _De usu partium   |
    corporis humani._                    |
  ---------------------------------------+----------------------------
       Not regarded as separate nerves.  |    I. Olfactory nerves.
  ---------------------------------------+----------------------------
    I. τὰ μαλακὰ νευ̑ρα τω̑ν ὀφθαλμω̑ν.           |   II. Optic nerves.
  ---------------------------------------+----------------------------
   II. τὰ κινητικὰ τω̑ν ἀμφ᾽ αὐτοὺς μυω̑ν.         |  III. Oculomotor nerves.
  ---------------------------------------+----------------------------
       Not mentioned.                    |   IV. Trochlear nerves.
  ---------------------------------------+----------------------------
  III. τρίτη συζυγία.     }                      |    V. Trigeminal nerves.
   IV. τετάρτη συζυγία. }                      |
       Mondino and Manfredi confuse      |
       Galen’s fourth pair and Galen’s   |
       sixth pair.                       |
  ---------------------------------------+----------------------------
       Not mentioned by Manfredi. By     |   VI. Abducent nerves.
       Galen probably united with II.    |
  ---------------------------------------+----------------------------
    V. πέεμπτη συζυγία.                        |{ VII. Facial nerves.
                                         |{VIII. Auditory nerves.
  ---------------------------------------+----------------------------
   VI. ἕκτη συζυγία.                          |  {IX. Glossopharyngeal
                                         |         nerves.
                                         |  { X. Vagi.
                                         |  {XI. Accessory nerves of
                                         |         Willis.
  ---------------------------------------+----------------------------
  VII. ἑβδόμη συζυγία.                          |  XII. Hypoglossal nerves.
  ---------------------------------------+----------------------------

The nomenclature of the cranial nerves adopted by Manfredi is taken
from Mondino and is almost identical with that of Galen, whose
classification is summarized above.[194] Manfredi’s description of
Galen’s fourth pair is confused and inadequate, but his account of
Galen’s sixth pair is an improvement upon Mondino.

The ‘rete mirabile’ is an interesting survival of Galenic anatomy.
This structure is hardly present in man, but is developed in the lower
animals, and especially in calves, upon whose bodies Galen worked. The
father of physiology regarded the ‘rete mirabile’ as the place where
the psychic pneuma was elaborated.[195] Galen’s findings in the lower
animals were assiduously transferred to the human body, to which his
descriptions are much less applicable, while his views on the pneuma
lasted in more or less misunderstood form well into the seventeenth
century.


(_b_) THE EYE

Tractate i, Chapter 3

(folio 11 recto) The socket of the eye is not over-depressed, for it
has to receive the images (_spetie_) of visible things. Nor does it
project greatly, lest it should be liable to injury from exterior
violence. For the eyes of man being very soft and susceptible, nature
provided eyebrows as a shield above, and eyelids as protectors in
front, and made moreover the projections of the maxillae and the nose,
so that the eyes should be guarded on every side. So great was the
solicitude of nature for these members.

Seven are the tunics of the eye and three its humours. Three front
coatings join with three coatings at the back like six shields, the
edges of every pair joining each to each, the outer being larger
and containing the others. The seventh tunic is largest of all, and
encloses the whole eye, and therefore it is called _conjunctiva_
because it joins and surrounds the whole eye except the place where the
pupil is, and that small part [is covered] by the cornea. Now this
first tunic where it covers the outside part is seen to be white.

The second tunic in its front part is called _cornea_ because it
resembles horn in its substance and colour; and this covering is
transparent, so that the images of visible things may penetrate through
it. And it is also solid and large and composed of four membranes, so
that being near external things it should not receive hurt. With this
[corneal tunic] is united posteriorly another tunic [the third] called
_sclerotic_, i.e. hard. These two coverings have their origin in the
membrane about the brain, that is in the dura mater, just as the first
tunic arises from the membrane over the skull, called _almochatim_.

The fourth tunic as to its front part is called _uvea_ [because] it is
like a seed of a black grape, and in its midst is a hole called the
pupil. Nature made this tunic opaque so that the visual spirit should
be conserved and not dissipated by the light outside. Moreover nature
made the opening in the tunic that the image might penetrate freely;
while it is narrow, so that the visual spirit should be concentrated.
Thus when the said pupil, or rather hole, dilates more than usual,
either naturally or accidentally, the sight becomes imperfect. [The
uveal tunic] joins posteriorly the fifth tunic, called _secundina_
because it is made like the after-birth, i.e. the membrane in which the
child is enveloped in its mother’s womb, and it arises from the pia
mater.

The sixth coating in front is called _arachnoid_ because it is formed
after the manner of a spider’s web, and posteriorly it joins the
seventh coating, called _retina_, because it is made like a net.

Between the uvea and the arachnoid anteriorly there is a humour called
_albugineus_, like the white of an egg, to moisten the eye and to
preserve the convexity of the cornea. In a dead man this humour dries
up, and the cornea falls and is flattened, and then the vulgar say that
there appears a curtain before the eyes which is an infallible sign of
death. Also this humour holds the pupil open; therefore when it dries
up the pupil contracts.

Between the two last tunics, i.e. the arachnoid and the retina, which
have their origin from the optic nerve, there are two humours. These
are the _vitreous_ humour, so called from its likeness to liquified
glass, and the _crystalline_ humour, from its likeness to a crystal.
This is also called the _grandid_, because it is like a hailstone;
and it is somewhat hard and round, but flattened anteriorly where
it receives the images of visible things, and posteriorly pyramidal
shape and pointed. And here is completed the act of seeing. In the
posterior part it is surrounded by the vitreous humours by which it is
nourished. The crystalline humour is convex anteriorly and the vitreous
posteriorly. And the optic nerves come to the eyes and convey the
images seen by the eyes to [the seat of] common sensation and to the
other internal faculties. [Folio 12 verso, line 7.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: Fig. 19. THE ANATOMY OF THE EYE

From G. Reisch, _Margarita philosophiae_, Leipzig,? 1503. Showing the
seven tunics and three humours of the eye according to the doctrines of
Renaissance anatomists.[196]]

A great deal of attention was paid by the Arabians to the diseases and
the structure of the eye, and the essentials of Manfredi’s description
are to be found in Rhazes, Hunain ben Ishak, and Haly Abbas. The
tradition presented by these writers passed early into Western
science, and is reproduced, for example, in the works of Constantine
Africanus and in the well-known anatomy to which the name of Richardus
Anglicus (Richard of Wendover) has become attached[197] (cp. Fig.
19). Avicenna’s description of the eye is somewhat different, and
gave rise to the tradition reproduced in the works of John of Peckham
and of Roger Bacon (Plate XXXVIII _a_), and it influenced the views
of Leonardo and even perhaps of Vesalius (Fig. 20). The views on the
anatomy of the eye expressed by Rhazes, Hunain ben Ishak, and Haly
Abbas were, on the whole, more widely accepted than those of Avicenna.

[Illustration: Fig. 20.

THE ANATOMY OF THE EYE

From Vesalius, _De humani corporis fabrica_, Basel, 1543, p. 643.
A, Crystalline humour; O, Albugineous humour; C, Vitreous humour;
N, Cornea; Q, Conjunctiva; M, Sclerotica; G, Secundina; H, Uvea; K,
Arachnoidea; E, Retina.]

The treatment of the eye was always felt to be hardly within the range
of the ordinary practitioner of surgery, and its structure, as we learn
from Guy de Chauliac,[198] was not usually treated in the general
course of anatomy. The custom was rather to refer the student to
special works such as those of Jesu Aly or of Alcoatim.

Manfredi’s description of the anatomy of the eye is that generally
accepted at the end of the fifteenth and the beginning of the sixteenth
centuries, and is unusually clear for its date. It represents
a considerable advance on such writers as Henri de Mondeville
(1260-1320)[199] or the pseudo Richardus Anglicus, and is far superior
to the descriptions of the eye dating from the fourteenth and fifteenth
centuries recently brought to light by Sudhoff.[200] We reproduce as
illustrating Manfredi a diagram taken from the _Margarita philosophica_
of Gregorius Reisch (died 1525). This represents the earliest printed
figure of any value of the anatomy of the eye (Fig. 19).[201] We give
for comparison the figure from a thirteenth-century MS. of Roger Bacon
(Plate XXXVIII _a_), representing the rival tradition of Avicenna and
Alhazen that influenced Leonardo da Vinci and other contemporaries of
Manfredi. These figures may be compared with that of Vesalius (1543,
Fig. 20), whose description of the eye is less free from traditional
bias than are most parts of his epoch-making work.

In reading any early description of the eye, it is to be remembered
that until the nineteenth century the ‘emanation theory’ prevailed.
Light was regarded as of the nature of a stream of particles emitted
from the object seen, and the act of vision was considered as a
collision of this emanation with an emission of something from the eye
itself, called in mediaeval writings the ‘visual spirit’.


(_c_) THE HEART

Tractate ii, Chapter 3

(folio 19 verso) Then you will see in the midst of the lung the heart,
covered by its membranes. [It is thus situated] that the air attracted
by this lung should cool it, and that thus the heat and spirit of
the heart be tempered. This member is the most important of the four
[principal members], because it is the first to live and the last to
die. It is of medium size compared with the other members of man, but
compared with the hearts of other animals it is very large, because
man, in a quantitative and not an intensive sense, has more natural
heat than other animals. It is pyramidal, that is in the form of a
flame; because it is of excellent warmth, therefore it is necessary
that it should be of a shape resembling a flame. Its figure is also
called ‘pine-shaped’, because it is wide below and narrow above, being
thus formed that distinction could better be made between its cavities
or ventricles; moreover, had it been made of a shape all uniform as is
the lower part, it would be too heavy and ponderous.

This member is situated in the middle of the entire body, measured in
every direction; that is, in the middle between the upper and lower
parts: in the middle also between front and back and right and left,
like a king standing in the midst of his kingdom, and this was done
that it might give the strength of life equally to all the members; and
although the heart as regards its foundation and base be in the middle,
yet its point declines to the left below the left breast, so that it
warms the left side as the liver warms the right.

This member is sustained and strengthened by a certain cartilaginous
bone. For since it is continually moving, it needs some point of
purchase to support it in its movements. Moreover, it has a certain
fatty layer on the outside which prevents the heart from drying and
keeps it moist: and there are certain veins and arteries dispersed
through its substance: and it is formed also of a kind of hard flesh so
that it may sustain many and forceful movements; also it is formed of
longitudinal, latitudinal, and transverse fibres, so that it may have
the power to attract, retain, and expel.

This member has three ventricles or chambers, like the brain. One
ventricle is on the right side, the second on the left, and the third
in between. The right ventricle towards the liver has two orifices. One
is towards the liver and is very large. Into this there enters a vein
called _vena chilis_, which arises in the convexity of the liver and
brings the blood from the liver to the heart. In that right ventricle
the blood is purified, and then sent by the heart to all the other
members.

Now since the heart attracts by this orifice of the _vena chilis_
more than it expels, therefore nature ordains that in the moment of
contraction when the blood is expelled this orifice closes, and when
the heart dilates it opens.

Moreover there are three little valves (_hostiolitti_) or doors opening
from without inward, and these valves are not very depressed; so that
by this same orifice only part of the purified blood is expelled to
the other members, because part goes to the lungs and the remainder
forms the vital spirit; therefore nature ordains that these valves do
not entirely close. From the _vena chilis_, before it enters the cavity
of the heart, there arises another vein, which surrounds the root of
the heart; and from it are given off branches which disperse themselves
through the substance of the heart, and from the blood of that vein the
heart nourishes itself.

The right ventricle towards the lung has another orifice into which
opens the _arterial vein_, bringing the blood from the heart to nourish
the lung: in this orifice also are three valves (_hostioli_) opening
from within outward and closing from without inward, in the opposite
way to the valves of the other orifice; and this is so that they should
entirely close. Hence by this orifice the heart during the period of
contraction can expel, and yet during the period of its dilatation
cannot attract anything through it as was done in the first orifice.

The left ventricle of the heart has its sides denser and thicker than
the sides or walls of the right ventricle; and this for three reasons:
Firstly, because in the right ventricle is contained the blood, which
is heavy, while in the left ventricle there is spirit, which is very
light; therefore in order that the heart should not be heavier and more
ponderous on one side than on the other, it was necessary to compensate
in this manner, that is, that the left ventricle should be thicker in
its walls than the right. In the second place, the spirit being more
subtil and more volatile (_resolubile_) than blood, it needs a stronger
habitation and better supports. Thirdly, the left ventricle is much
warmer than the right, because in it is generated the spirit from the
blood, by a great heat which makes that blood more subtil; and heat is
better preserved in a substance that is dense and thick.

In the cavity of this ventricle near its root are two orifices: one is
the orifice of an artery called _artharia adorti_ [= aorta], because it
has immediate origin in the heart and because it is the source of all
the others: by this artery the heart sends the generated spirit to all
the members; and the very subtil blood is mixed with the spirit when
the heart contracts. For which reason there are at the entrance of this
orifice three valves, which close entirely from the outside inwards;
and they open from the inside outwards, and this orifice is very deep.

The other orifice is that of the _venal artery_ which conveys the air
from the lung to cool the heart and transports warm vapours from the
heart to the lung as has been said above; and in this orifice are two
valves which do not entirely close: and they are well raised so that
they can better apply themselves to the sides [edges] of the heart
when it sends out the spirit: these are marvellous works of nature,
as is also the central ventricle of the heart, for this ventricle has
not one cavity but many; these are small but wide, and more numerous
on the right than on the left; and nature contrived thus, so that the
blood which goes from the right ventricle to the left to be converted
continually into spirit becomes thin in these cavities.

And by this thou canst see that four things have birth in the heart.
The first is the artery called _adorti_, the second is the _vena
chilis_, the third is the _arterial vein_, and the fourth the _venal
artery_.

Also thou wilt see in the heart certain membranous parts like
_auricles_, or rather like small ears, able to dilate or contract:
these are contrived by nature in order that when overmuch blood or
spirit is generated the heart can dilate so as to contain it; and also
that the heart may contract when there is no such abundance.

And it is here that Galen asks, Why did not nature make the heart so
large that it could contain every increase of blood or spirit without
the addition of these membranes? Galen replies that this was first
because the heart would have been too large and therefore too heavy;
secondly, because as it is not always generating a great quantity
of blood and spirit, if the heart had been too large, its cavity
would usually have been empty: but these auricles dilate with the
accumulation of blood or spirit, and contract with its decrease.

The heart is surrounded by a firm and nervous membrane, like a
little house in which it is placed as in a tabernacle to defend it
from accidents. This capsule is very dilated, that the heart in its
dilations and movement may not be impeded thereby, and therefore nature
made this capsule so that it should contain a certain dewy moisture
with which the heart is bathed and moistened so that in its continual
movement it should not become dry. For when this water be dried up,
then the heart itself is desiccated, and emaciates and dries up all the
body.

       *       *       *       *       *

The description of the heart follows Mondino closely. Occasionally a
phrase or two is reminiscent of Mondeville. The trite conception of the
heart as a king in its necessarily central position was very frequently
repeated by writers in the Middle Ages. To Harvey, who had a certain
mediaeval element in his mentality, it seems to have appealed, and he
used it in his _Prelectiones Anatomiae_,[202] and chose it to introduce
his great work on the circulation of the blood.[203] The heart was
similarly described as ‘flame-shaped’, because it was regarded as the
source of animal heat. The idea that it is the first to live and the
last to die comes from Aristotle.[204] The _bone_ in the heart also
comes from Aristotle.[205] The idea was quite familiar to mediaeval
anatomists, who frequently endeavoured to identify the _bone_ with the
firm tissue around the orifices of the aorta and pulmonary artery. The
reader may be reminded that a true ‘os cordis’ is in fact to be found
in some mammalia.

Mondino, followed by Manfredi, describes the action of the heart and
blood-vessels mainly according to the views of Galen, but without any
very clear or connected statement. The ‘third ventricle’ especially has
its origin in a misunderstanding.

This mythical structure is an attempt to combine the views of Aristotle
and of Galen. Aristotle, who probably never dissected a human body,
derived his anatomical conceptions largely from cold-blooded animals,
in some of which the heart is provided with three cavities. He
considered that the heart had three chambers, the largest being on the
right, the smallest on the left, and one of intermediate size between
the two. As far as they can be identified, the largest was the right
ventricle plus the right auricle, the smallest or left chamber was the
left auricle, while the intermediate cavity appears to have been the
left ventricle.[206]

Galen’s description differed altogether from that of Aristotle. He
tells us expressly and somewhat contemptuously that ‘it is no marvel if
Aristotle erred in many anatomical matters, a man who thought forsooth
that the heart in the larger animals had three chambers’.[207] Galen
always describes the heart as having but two chambers, the right and
left ventricles, a wholly subordinate part being assigned to the
auricles. These latter were regarded as safety-valves, expanding to
hold superfluous blood when the chambers of the heart to which they
correspond become overfilled.

[Illustration: Fig. 21. THE HEART

From the Roncioni MS. (Pisa 99) after Sudhoff.]

No third ventricle is described by Rhazes or Haly Abbas,[208] but
Avicenna, in his _Canon_, makes an effort to combine the views of
Aristotle and Galen. Speaking of the anatomy of the heart (lib. iii,
fen. xi, chap. 1) he describes the ventricular portion as follows:
‘In the heart are three cavities, two large, and a third as it were
central in position. So that the heart has [_a_] a receptacle [the
right ventricle] for the nutriment with which it nourishes itself--this
nutriment is thick and firm like the substance of the heart; [_b_] a
place where the pneuma is formed [the left ventricle], being engendered
of the subtil blood; and [_c_], thirdly, a canal between the two.’[209]
A somewhat similar account is given in Constantine’s translation of
Isaac.[210] The idea soon crept into European medicine, for in a Pisan
MS. dating from the first half of the thirteenth century[211] a crude
figure of a three-chambered heart is to be found (Fig. 21).

The first translator of the _Canon of Avicenna_, Gerard of Cremona,
whose work appeared towards the end of the twelfth century, improved
on his original. ‘In it [the heart] are three ventricles; two are
large, and the third as it were between, which Galen called the fovea
or non-ventricular meatus, so that there may be a receptaculum for the
thick and strong nourishment, like to the substance of the heart, with
which it is nourished, and also a storehouse for the pneuma (spiritus)
generated in it from the subtil blood. And between the two are channels
or meatuses.’[212] Henri de Mondeville (died about 1320), by going
direct to Galen, avoided some of the errors of Avicenna, with whom,
however, he still describes three ventricles.[213] Mondino does little
but copy the Arabian, whom Manfredi also follows.

We may terminate our description of the mythical third ventricle by
quoting from Bartholomew the Englishman. His encyclopaedia written
about 1260 was translated into English in 1397, and printed by Thomas
Berthelet[214] in the 27th year of the reign of Henry VIII (1535), when
Bartholomew’s work was still extremely popular. Berthelet’s rendering
runs as follows:

    ‘And the hert hath ij holownesses, one in the left syde, that
    cometh sharpe: and one in the ryght side, that is within: And these
    two holownesses ben called the wombes of the hart. And betwene
    these two wombes is one hole, that some men call a veyne, other
    an holowe way. And this hole is brode afore the ryghte syde, and
    streyte afore the left syde. And that is nedefulle to make the
    bloode subtyll, that commeth from the ryght wombe to the lefte,
    and so the spirite of lyfe may be bredde the easelyer in the lefte
    wombe.’

In order to understand why all these authors invoked the existence of
the third ventricle, regarded by some of them as a passage between
the other two, we must turn to the physiological beliefs of the age.
It must be recalled that before the demonstration of the circulatory
movement of the blood a certain amount of communication was believed
to exist between right and left ventricles. The complicated nature
of the ventricular cavities and the intricacy of the columnae
carneae promoted the idea of the presence of minute passages in the
interventricular septum. Even so astute an observer as Leonardo da
Vinci considered that ‘the ventricles are separated by a _porous_ wall,
through which the blood of the right ventricle penetrates into the left
ventricle, and when the right ventricle shuts, the left opens and draws
in the blood which the right one gives forth’ (Plate XXXVIII_b_).[215]

[Illustration: Fig. 22. From Johannes Adelphus, _Mundini de omnibus
humani corporis interioribus menbris Anathomia_, Strassburg, 1513. The
diagram shows the two lateral ventricles and the ‘central’ ventricle.
By a printer’s error the letters _c_ and _d_ are transposed. The
_arteria adorti_ is the aorta, the _arteria venalis_ the pulmonary
vein, the _vena chilis_ the vena cava, and the _vena arterialis_ the
pulmonary artery. The auricles are ignored, as is frequently the case
in works of the period, and the pulmonary veins are represented as
opening directly into the ventricles.]

Although the third ventricle is described in all the twenty-five
editions of Mondino, many of which are illustrated, they present no
drawing of it except the wretched little diagram of J. A. Muelich
(Johannes Adelphus) in 1513, which we here reproduce (Fig. 22). The
confusion, however, to which the idea of a third ventricle gave rise
influenced anatomy almost as late as the seventeenth century, and is
illustrated in the anatomical figures of a late edition of Hans von
Gersdorff (1556),[216] where the trachea is actually shown opening into
the left ventricle (Fig. 23). It was Vesalius who took the first great
step towards the discovery of the circulation of the blood, by firmly
maintaining that the interventricular septum was solid and contained
neither passages nor intermediate ventricle.[217]

[Illustration: Fig. 23. From Hans von Gersdorff, _Feldt und Stattbüch
bewerter Wundartznei_, Frankfurt, 1556. The trachea (_d_) is
represented as opening directly into the heart.]


VI. ITALIAN TEXT

MS. Canonici Ital. 237

_Hyeronimi manfredi ad Magnificum & potentem dominum ac militem
Iohannem Bentiuolum insequens opus de corporis humani anothomia
exordium._

[folio 1 verso] Opportet de sapientia admirari creatoris ut XVº de
utilitate particularum scribitur a Galieno. Cum enim membrorum nostri
corporis admirabilem Galienus aspiceret Armoniam predictum sermonem
explicauit: ut nos ad dei sublimis et gloriosi admiranda opera
commoueret: Quamuis nostra cognitio a dei compraehensione deficiat:
unde et Seneca XLª epistola ad Lucillum ait quid deus sit incertum est
habitat in nobis: Sed deum mouemur inuocare eius sapientiam mirabiliter
contemplantes. Quanta enim fuerit summi opificis in producendo res
sapientia quanta eius solicitudo et prudentia opera profecto nature
declarant: unde et psalmista mirabilia sunt opera tua deus, et alibi
celi enarrant gloriam dei et opera manuum eius annuntiat firmamentum.
Quis enim talia et tanta inspitiens creatorem suum abneget et eius
potentiam? Inscipiens quidem erit hic iuxta illud psalmiste dixit
inscipiens in corde suo non est deus. Sublimis autem dei multiplitia
et diuersa fuere opera. Creauit enim duplitia entium genera scilicet
corruptibilia et incorruptibilia; et in utrisque suam admirabilem
sapientiam, suamque [folio 2 recto] infinitam potentiam ostendit. Totam
enim entis latitudinem nihil prorsus de spetiebus, quas ab aeterno in
mente sua retinuit obmittens perfulciuit, et eas quas ab aeterno in
sua habebat essentia ad aliud esse procreauit, ut in indiuiduis esse
haberent: quae in suae maiestatis lumine existebant: et uniuscuiusque
spetiei modo perfecit ac uarietates per esse quod in singularibus
habent (natura mediante & cum lege) imposuit. Admirantur angelorum
caetus obstupent hominum intellectus tantae maiestatis opera mirabilia:
ut hoc summo bono: hoc perfectissimo ente nihil melius excogitari
possit. O admirabilem maiestatem, O deitatem incompraehensibilem, O
inefabilem potentiam: Quis te negliget? Quis te non insequetur? Quis in
operibus tuis non delectabitur?

Omnis igitur qui in operum dei gloriosi intuitu delectatur, hic prudens
et non inscipiens est: hic dignus <DW25>: hic intellectu non caret.
Cum igitur tua illustris Dominatio Iohannes bentiuole magnanimis
praesenti anno ex sui qua solet humanitate ad cuiusdam hominis defuncti
anothomiam uno semel uidere non fuerit dedignata ob sui intellectus
dignitatem qui semper alta intelligere concupiscit, cumque tu opera tam
naturae miranda in anothomizato incaepisti uidere corpore tunc haec
intelligendi creuit animus tua digna [folio 2 verso] creuit uoluntas:
Et me hyeronimum Manfredum ad hoc opus de anothomia intitulatum materno
sermone tuo dignissimo nomini inscribere concitasti: (ut omnino sicut
debeor) rem gratam tuae faciam dominationi: In hoc enim tui agnoui
dignitatem intellectus, tui ingenii solertiam quod in rebus naturae
mirandis tuum peruoluas intellectum. Hoc enim opusculum quantum melius
potui ex uariis antiquorum uoluminibus exserpsi ac id abreuiaui: nec
eumdem forte tenui ordinem ut illi: et ipsum materno composui sermone
ut opus hoc delectabilius tuae sit magnificentie.

Accipe igitur magnifice et potens domine hoc opus de corporis humani
anothomia tuo dignisimo nomini intitulatum, ea benignitate et
humanitate, qua soles: et animo illari ac gratioso id accepta: qui
satis tibi erit delectabile et perplacebit quia dignum est opus: Vale
miles magnanimis, et solito ama.

Finis prohemii.

[Here a folio is missing.]

[folio 3 recto] a li nerui lequale hano origine da le extremita
di musculi: Unde e da sapere che li musculi sono compositi de
nerui, corde, e ligamenti e carne facti da la natura a dare el moto
uoluntario, Impero da le soe extrimita escono queste tale corde e
uadono a membri che se debano mouere: e quando se retraheno li dicti
musculi consequenter se se retraheno le lor corde: & finaliter i
membri: et similiter quando se dilatano i musculi se dilatano etiam le
corde & consequenter i membri.

Li ligamenti sono etiam simili a nerui facti a ligare le iuncture de le
osse e non li dette la natura sentimento como fece a li nerui & a le
corde acio che per el molto mouimento e fricatione de le iuncture non
doleseno.

Le Artarie sono de substantia neruosa & ligamentale in longo extense o
concaue: ne le quale se contene el sangue sutilissimo & depurato et el
spirito uitale el quale e mandato dal core a dare uita a tuti i membri:
et hano origine da esso core: & impero hebeno doe tuniche acio chel
sangue sutile & el spirito uitale non usisseno fuora.

Le vene sono simile a lartarie ma sono quiete e non se moueno, ma hano
origine dal figato et in esse se contene el sangue grosso cum li altri
humuri che non e cusi depurato ne [folio 3 verso] cusi sutile como e
el sangue de le artarie: impero non li fece senon una tunicha: per
che quelo sangue non era cosi sutile chel potesse penetrare fuora ne
anche non bisognandose mouere non era suspitione de rompersi como ne le
artarie che era neccessario a mouerse per refrigerare el core atrahendo
laiere frigido & expellendo fuora li fumi caldi da esso.

Li panniculi sono composti e texuti de fili neruosi sutilissimi che
non se posseno uedere e sono questi paniculi spissi e sutili e sono de
molte manerie: Alcuni forno facti a continere o coprire a Alcuni membri
e custodirli ne la sua figura e substantia como sono li paniculi che
copreno el cerebro e molti altri di li quali poi diremo: Alcuni altri
panniculi sono facti a suspendere uno membro a laltro como li rognoni
sono aligati a laschina mediante uno certo paniculo: Alcuni altri
paniculi sono facti acio che alcuni membri che non hano sentimento
recceuano qualche sentimento per el panniculo: nel quale sono inuolti
como sono el pulmone el figato la milza & i rognoni li quali sono
priuati de sentimento impero la natura aciascuno di loro li fece uno
panniculo doue fusseuo inuolti per la casone dicta.

Da poi tuti questi membra hauendo la natura ordito el corpo de lhomo
de [folio 4 recto] li predicti bisogno reimpire le uacuita e reimpille
de carne: Fece aduncha la natura la carne per reimpire le uacuita che
rimangono da lorditura de nerui uene & altri membri dicti.

Praeterea e da sapere che la natura ha dato aciascuno di li predicti
membri quatro uirtu. Una e uirtu atratiua per laquale ha ad atrahere el
nutrimento suo a se del quale el membro se ha a nutricare: La seconda
uirtu e digegtiua per laquale el nutrimento atrato se digerisse &
conuertese ne la sustantia del membro: La terza uirtu si e retentiua
per laquale el nutrimento atrato se retiene debito tempo acio che la
uirtu digestiua possa perficere la sua operatione circha quello: La
quarta uirtu e expulsiua laquale ha expellere le superfluita che se
generano dal nutrimento ne la digestione.

Anche e da sapere che la natura nel corpo de lhuomo ha facto quatro
membri principali como quatro signori et aciascuno di loro li ha dato
una casa o uero uno palazo a sua custodia doue habite cum certe camare
o uero stantie che hano aseruirli al suo bisogno: El primo membro
principale e signore e el cerebro al quale li fece la natura el capo
cum le sue circumstantie per suo habitaculo e dette a questo membro
che lui fusse principio e radice de tuto el sentimento e moto de tuto
el [folio 4 verso] corpo: dal quale tuti li altri membri recceueno el
sentire: e el mouere, & a questo membri li dette etiam cinque uirtu
cognoscitiue exteriore cio e li cinque sentimenti e cinque altre uirtu
cognoscitiue interiore che deserueno a lo intellecto.

El secondo membro principale e signore si e el Core alquale la natura
ha dato la sua casa cio e el pecto cum le sue adiacentie: et aquesto
membro li ha dato la uirtu de la uita dal quale proceda la uita in tuti
li altri membri como da uno primo principio.

El terzo membro principale e signore e el Figato alquale dette la
natura per suo domicilio el uentre inferiore cum li altri membri
circumstanti che sono neccessarii a la sua operatione e dette a questo
membro la uirtu nutritiua chel fusse principio e radice del nutricare
de tuti li membri.

El quarto membro principale fu li testiculi e la sua casa e la bursa
laquale li contene et aquilli deserueno piu altri membri como poi se
uedera et a questi testiculi ha dato la natura la uirtu generatiua cio
e de generare el sperma o uero seme el quale habia una uirtu generatiua
che possa produre una cosa simile a colui dal quale se decide tale
sperma: et questo fu facto per conseruare lhuomo in spetie non se
possendo conseruare in indiuiduo.

Ultra questi quatro membri principali e suoi domicilii [folio 5 recto]
ha facto la natura alcuni altri membri cio e el collo cum la gola
che fusse uia e transito dal primo membro principale cio e cerebro
ali altri membri principali et etiam a tute laltre parte & per altre
utilita quale noi da poi diremo.

Item ha facto la natura le braza e le mane che hauesseno a pigliare el
cibo e mandarlo al luoco conueniente et etiam per che lhuomo solo uiue
per arte lequale non se possono perficere senza le braza e mano.

Item fece le cosse, gambe e piedi acio se potesse mouere da luocho a
luocho secondo li soi bisogni.

Noi aduncha poneremo la Anothomia de tuti li membri e parte dicte:
Comenciando per ordine dal cerebro e da la sua casa et consequenter
descendendo per insino apiedi.


_Capitulum secundum, tractatus primi de anothomia capitis et omnium
contentorum in eo._

Fece la natura el capo ossuoso per magiore tutela del cerebro: el quale
essendo inmobile non li bisogno hauere musculi: Et per che el cerebro
ne lhuomo e magiore che ne li altri animali secondo la sua grandeza
impero bisogno chel capo de lhuomo fusse etiamdio grande per rispecto
de li altri animali: Et etiam bisogno li meati del capo ne lhuomo
essere piu distincti essendo piu dedito al cognoscere.

La figura [folio 5 verso] del capo naturale e rotonda compressa da
dui canti como sel fusse una cera rotonda compressa cum le mano da
la parte drita e da la stancha faria doe eminentie una dinanzi e
laltra de drieto e la parte drita e stancha rimaneriano piane: Bisogno
fusse rotondo acio fusse pin capace et etiam che fusse piu securo e
risguardato da nocumenti exteriori a li quali e molto exposito: Bisogno
etiam essere facto cum quelle eminentie acio che li meati del cerebro
hauesseno megliore distinctione et acio che li cinque sentimenti
exteriori hauesseno origine da la eminentia anteriore.

Diece sono le parte del capo: La prima e li capilli quasi capitis pili
facti da la natura a magiore tutela del capo da le cose exteriore et
etiam per belleza: La seconda parte del capo e la cute la quale bisogno
essere molto grossa acio che li capilli fusseno ben firmi hauendo le
radice sue molte grosse e longhe et etiam che fusse megliore scuto e
cooperimento de losso et del cerebro non li essendo parte musculose: La
terza parte si e la carne laquale solo e ne la fronte e ne le tempie
e circha le masselle e non in le altre parte: La quarta parte e uno
panniculo exteriore chiamato almochatim elquale appare in continenti
como e liuata su la cute e copre tuto losso del craneo de fuora: Et
fece la natura questo panniculo [folio 6 recto] acio che lacute che e
molle non tochasse incontinenti losso che e duro: Et etiam acio che
losso del capo hauesse sentimento per questo panniculo: Et tertio anche
acio che el paniculo interiore del capo chiamato Duramater mediante
questo panniculo stesse suspeso a losso del craneo cum certi nerui e
ligamenti che escono per le comissure del dicto osso et hano origine
dal dicto panniculo interiore & uscendo fuora de losso texono o uero
componeno quello panniculo exteriore dicto Almochatim: La quinta parte
e el craneo cioe osso facto como uno capello nela concauita del quale
glie locato el cerebro: & in questo craneo furno quatro ossa cusite
insieme e la natura non fece questo osso uno ma de piu pezi acio che
achadando nocumento in una parte non comunicasse a laltre parte: Et
etiam acio che per quelle comissure o uero cusiture potesseno meglio
exhalare fuora le fumusitade dal cerebro: Et tertio acio che bisognando
la uirtu de le medicine applicate potesseno meglio penetrare ale parte
dentro quisti aduncha quatro pezi de osso furno da la natura cusiti
et insieme ionti in modo de denti acio fusse piu fermi e forti et non
furno facti in modo che se potesseno uincare como fano le iunture per
che non seriano state cusi forte: et etiam [folio 6 verso] per che non
bisognaua a losso del capo mouerse: Et queste comissure sono cinque cio
e tre uere e doe mendose: Le comissure uere sono quelle che passano
tuto losso et le mendose non passano: De le uere comissure una si e
ne la parte anteriore chiamata coronale et e facta a modo de uno C
e protende da la parte drita a la stancha del capo et ha li branchi
uerso la fronte. La secunda comissura uera si protende per la longheza
del capo comencianda da la comissura coronale ala parte posteriore
como una friza o uero sagitta che uene da larcho, impero e chiamata
sagitale ----(. La terza comissura e ne la parte posteriore chiamata
laudale facta a modo de uno A, per abacho chiamato dal greco lauda: e
la comissura sagittale protende da la coronale a la laudale ❯----(.

Le comissure mendose sono due da ciascaduno lato una cio e dal drito e
dal stanco e sono dicte corticate per che non passano.

Et se noi consideremo per queste cinque comissure hauemo quatro ossi
cusiti insieme: Uno si e losso de la fronte che comenza dala comissura
coronale e termina uerso la parte inferiore a una altra comissura la
quale comenza da uno brancho de la comissura coronale e procede a
presso le ciglie de li ochii a laltro brancho Ɑ. Laltro osso si e de
drieto el [folio 7 recto] quale se termina a la comissura laudale e dui
altri ossi da le tempie che se terminano da le comissure mendose le
quale comenzano da la comissura laudale a la comissura coronale.

La sexta parte sono doi paniculi uno chiamato Dura mater el quale e
in continenti de poi el craneo: e laltro se chiama pia mater el quale
incontinente copre el cerebro e questo fece la natura hauendo grande
solicitudine di questo membro acio che in continenti non fusse tocho
da losso ma processe per piu mezi che uno fusse piu duro che laltro:
Et anche fece dui panniculi acio che se la cadesse nocumento in uno de
loro non comunicasse al cerebro in continente. Ne la pia matre sono
texute certe uene per le quale se nutrisse el cerebro e si lo copre
per tuto excepto la parte posteriore per che essendo quella parte
sicca non bisogno di questo paniculo como la parte anteriore e meza.
Questi dui panniculi in piu luochi penetrano la sustantia del cerebro
et se lo diuide in parte drita e parte sinistra et in parte anteriore
& parte posteriore: et per queste tale diuisione furno fabrichate nel
capo diuerse celule o uero camerette ne le quale produce lanima diuerse
operatione per che bisognaua che queste tale parte fuseno de diuerse
complexione.

E leuati adoncha questi dui panniculi apparera La [folio 7 verso]
Septima parte del capo: et e esso cerebro facta da la natura acio che
el spirito uitale mandato dal core calidissimo sia contemperato da
la frigidita de esso cerebro: et iue douenti spirito animale elquale
e principio de le operatione cognoscitiue & motiue: e questo cerebro
e una sustantia medulare biancha molle e uiscosa a cio che da essa
hauesseno origine li nerui: ma la parte dinanci fu generata piu humida
e molle & mancho frigida che la parte posteriore per che da la parte
anteriore hano origine li sentimenti li quali sono molli & humidi ma da
la parte posteriore hano origine li nerui motiui li quali bisognano
essere piu sicci e forti: Questo cerebro aduncha se diuide in tri
uintriculi oucro tre parte: El primo uentriculo o parte anteriore e
diuisa in doe, cio e dextra e sinistra: et e magiore che nesuno de
li altri uentriculi: et in questo primo uentriculo li pose la natura
doe uirtu deseruente al cognoscere una se chiama senso comune doue se
terminano li altri sensi exteriori como al suo centro et deferiscono
le imagine o uero spetie de le cose sensiue a quello luocho acio che
quella uirtu cognosca e distingua tra una cosa sensibile e laltra et
etiam cognosca le operatione di li sentimenti particulari lequale doe
cose non puo fare nesuno de quilli.

Laltra uirtu de questo primo uentriculo se [folio 8 recto] chiama
fantasia et apresso alcuni se chiama imaginatiua laquale ha a retinere
et conseruare le spetie de le cose sensibile ne la absentia de le cose
sensibile. Quando tu harai ueduto el uentriculo primo tu uederai tre
cose inanzi che uegni al uentriculo secondo. La prima si e doe anche
cio e una cosa facta de la sustantia del cerebro in modo de doe anche
che sono fundamento del uentriculo anteriore cusi da la dextra como
da la sinistra parte: et dal lato di ciascuna ancha glie una altra
cosa facta a modo de uno uerme subterraneo rosa se sanguinea ligata
de certi ligamenti e neruitti el quale uerme quando se alonga chiude
quelle anche et consequenter chiude la uia tra el primo uentriculo et
el secondo et questo fece la natura acio che lhuomo quando uole posse
cessare da le cogitatione e dal considerare et similiter quando uole
considerare e pensare questo uerme se contrahe et contrahendosi apre
quelle anche et consequenter apre la uia che e tra uno uentriculo e
laltro: La terza cosa che tu uederai un poco piu de sotta e una lacuna
cio e una certa conchauita rotonda che tra allongo nel mezio de laquale
glie uno bucho che ua gioso al palato et a questo bucho li occorre una
uia drita laquale descende dal uentriculo di mezo al colatorio e questa
lacuna ha circumquaque eminentie grande rotonde facte a sustentare
[folio 8 verso] le uene et artharie che ascendeno a dicti uentriculi: e
quello bucho e lato di sopra e stretto in fonde e per questa lacuna el
primo e secondo uentriculo purgano le sue superfluitade benche la parte
anteriore piu se purghi per li colatorii del naso: Unde queste doe uie
fece la natura ad expurgare le superfluita del cerebro.

Quando adoncha tu hauerai ueduto queste tre cose incontinente te
apparera el secondo uentriculo del mezo el quale e como una uia et uno
transito dal primo uentriculo al posteriore: in questo uentriculo sono
doe uirtu una chiamata extimatiua, laquale ha elicere cose insensate
da le cose sensate. Laltra uirtu se chiama cogitatiua laquale cognosce
cusi le cose sensate como le cose insensate componendo e diuidendo: e
questa uirtu in mediate deserue a lo intellecto: et tute le altre uirtu
dicte et anche la uirtu memoratiua se ritrouano ne li animali bruti, ma
questa solo se retruoua ne lhuomo.

Dapoi te occorrera el terzo uentriculo situato ne la parte posteriore
duro per che e principio de la piu parte di nerui motiui liquali
bisogno essere piu forti e duri: Questo uentriculo e de figura
pyramidale cio e facto in ponta e la ponta si e ne la parte superiore
doue ha aconseruare le spetie per che meglio se riserua la cosa [folio
9 recto] in stretto luocho che in amplo: e la parte di sotto e lata
per che ha a receuere le spetie e meglio se receue in luocho amplo
che stretto: Due adoncha utilita se ha da questo uentriculo una che e
principio de la nucha e di li nerui mottiui. Laltra si e che e camera
de la uirtu memoratiua.

E per questo appare che quando e offesa la parte posteriore del capo in
continenti se offende la memoria e quando se offende la parte de mezo
se offende la uirtu extimatiua & cogitatiua & offesa la parte dinanzi
se offende el senso comune e la fantasia et in questo modo ueneno in
cognitione li medici de li luochi de le dicte uirtu.

Facto questo tu leuarai el cerebro ligieramente chel non si rompa
alcuno neruo e comezarai da la parte di nanzi & incontinenti te
apparerano doe carne picole in modo de doi capi de mamille simile ala
sustantia de cerebro per che nascono da quello et sono coperte dal
paniculo subtile cio e da la pia matre e queste sono lorgano de lo
oderato doue e la uirtu olphatiua.

Dal cerebro nascono septe para de nerui: procedi adoncha piu oltra ne
la parte dinanci e uederai el primo paro de dicti nerui liquali sono
grandi chiamasi nerui obtitii de li quali la origine e dal cerebro
ne li uentriculi anteriori e procedeno uerso li ochii ma nanci che
escano la pia matre se coniongeno [folio 9 verso] et in luocho de
la sua unione sono perforati: Uolse Galieno che dicti nerui solo se
coniongeseno o uero se unisseno e non se incrutiasseno ma quello neruo
che uiene dala parte drita da poi la unione ritorna pure dala parte
drita et similiter quello che uiene da la parte sinestra da poi la
unione ritorna uerso lochio sinistro: Ma Rasis uolse el contrario
benche la opinione de Galieno sia piu comune: questi nerui deserueno al
uedere e fu necessario che se uniseno acio che le spetie de la cosa che
se uede receuuta in doi ochii e portata per doi nerui ritorni a unita
acio che una cosa non appara doe.

Dapoi li dicti nerui leua el cerebro secondo la sua medieta e uederai
uno altro pare de nerui subtili et duri li quali uengono similiter a li
ochii a darli el mouimento uoluntario componendo certi musculi.

Da poi tu uederai el terzo pare de nerui di quali una parte se ne ua
ala faza a darli el sentire e el mouere uoluntario et anche una parte
de quisti ua a dare el gusto a la lengua: Un altra parte de dicti nerui
se mescola insieme cum el quarto[218] pare de nerui et descendeno
insieme gioso a dare sentimento al Diafragma et al stomaco et alaltre
uiscera: Una certa parte de li nerui del quarto[218] pare se ne ua a
dare el sentimento al palato.

Da poi e el quinto pare de nerui se ne ua a li ossi petrosi liquali
sono apresso [folio 10 recto] le orechie e de questi nerui ne li buchi
de lorechie se componeno certi panniculi liquali sono organo de lo
audire.

Da poi e el sexto pare de nerui che se diuide in tre parte una parte
ua ali musculi de la gola: Laltra parte ua ali musculi de le spalle la
terza parte che e magiore de le altre descende gio a lo epyglotto e nel
diafragma se sparge nel pecto nel core e nel polmone a compagnandosi
insieme cum li nerui del terzo pare dicti: Et anche da li nerui di
questo sexto pare quali uadeno gio a lo epyglotto se generano li nerui
de la uoce chiamati reuersiui dili quali piu disotto se uedera.

Dapoi e el septimo pare de nerui ha origine da la parte posteriore del
cerebro e uadeno a dare el mouimento a la lingua uoluntario: De questi
septe para de nerui li primi doi pari hano origine da la anteriore
parte del cerebro: el terzo pare ha origine dal mezo de lanteriore e
posteriore parte: li altri quatro para de nerui hano origine da la
parte posteriore.

E dapoi quisti procedendo piu oltre leua tuto el cerebro & apparera
la octaua parte del capo cioe doi panniculi posti sotto el cerebro li
quali leuati apparerati la nona parte che e una certa rethe laquale se
chiama rethe mirabile per che e contexta de una tessetura fortissima
et miraculosa multiplicata de certe artharie sutilissime: lequale
sono [folio 10 verso] rami de alcune artharie che ascendeno dal core
chiamate artharie apopletice: & in queste artharie di questa rethe se
contiene el spirito uitale mandate dal core acio che douenti animale:
et acio che questo spirito meglio se alterasse e disponesse fece la
natura quelle artharie sutilissime diuise per minime parte acio che
questo spirito fusse diuiso anche in minime parte: et pose la natura
questa rethe mirabile sotto el cerebro perche bisogno hauere de molta
custodia onde lo situo in luoco tutissimo et etiam acio che le humidita
uaporese del cerebro che cadeno sopra questa rethe opilandola inducesse
el somno naturale.

Da poi tute queste cose uederai losso basilare che e la decima et
ultima parte del capo e chiamasi basilare per che e base e fondamento
de tuto el capo e fu facto duro acio che le superfluita che descendono
a lui non lo putrefesse: e questo osso e diuiso in molti altri ossi
como se puo uedere cociandelo. Onde se diuide ne le osse petrose e ne
li ossi del naso e ne le ossi de li ochii & in doi altri ossi laterali
li quali non se possono uedere se non per uia de decocione.


_Capitulum tertium de anothomia oculorum et membrorum deseruientium
uisui._

Le ossa del naso forno cauernose e porrose acio che le superfluita
del cerebro possano meglio de [folio 11 recto] scendere e lo odore
ascendere.

Dapoi scinde tuti doi li ossi de gliochii e uederai la colligantia
loro cum li nerui obtitii e cum li nerui motiui: e el loco de li ochii
non fu molto in profondo per che douca receuere le spetie de le cose
uisibile: ne anche fu tropo eminente acio non receuesse lesione da le
cose exteriore: Et essendo li ochii molto molli e passibili ne lhuomo
fece la natura li supercilii acio fusseno custoditi da le cose che
descendeno de su in gioso e fece le palpebre che fuseno custoditi da
le cose che uengono da fuora dentro: e fece le eminentie de le maxille
et anche el naso in mezo che da ogne lato e per ogne uerso fusseno
custoditi: tanto fu la solicitudine che hebe la natura di questo membro.

Septe sono le tuniche e tri humori di liquali e composto lochio tre
tuniche anteriore se coiongeno cum tre altre posteriore como se fusseno
sei scutelle che cum la bocha ogne doe se coniongesseno e che doe
fussene magiore che contineseno le altre doe e poi li e la septima
tunica che e magiore de tute e contene tuto lochio: e pero se chiama
coniontiua per che congionge e circunda tuto lochio excepto el luocho
de la pupilla e quello pocho de la cornea che appare e questa e la
prima tunicha comenzando da le parte de fuora et e biancha.

La seconda tunicha ne la parte dinanci se si chiama cornea, [folio 11
verso] per che se asomiglia al corno quanto ala substantia e quanto
al colore: e fu questa tunicha transparente acio che le spetie de le
cose uisibile potesseno penetrare per essa e fu etiam sollida e grossa
composita de quatro pellicule e questo fu per che e propinqua a le
cose exteriore non receuesse nocumento da esse e cum questa tunicha
ne la parte posteriore se conionge un altra tunica dicta scliroticha
cio e dura e queste doe tuniche hano origine dal paniculo di sotto el
craneo cio e da la dura matre cusi como la prima tunicha ha origine dal
panniculo disopra el craneo dicto almochatim.

La quarta tunicha ne la parte dinanzi se chiama uuea a similitudine
de uno grano de uua negra et in el mezo di quella glie uno buco che
se chiama la pupilla: fece la natura questa tunica obscura acio
chel spirito uisiuo se confortasse e che non si resoluesse dal lume
exteriore: e fece quello buco in questa tunica acio che le spetie
potesseno penetrare senza impedimento e fecelo stretto acio chel
spirito uisiue fusse unito: Onde quando dicta pupilla o uero buco se
alargha oltra el debito o per natura o per accidente se impedisse
el uedere: e ne la parte de drieto se li coniongne la quinta tunica
dicta secundina per che e facta a similitudine de la secondina cio e
paniculo nel quale se inuoltano li putti nel uentre [folio 12 recto] de
la matre et hano origine de la pia matre.

La sexta tunicha se chiama ne la parte dinanzi aranea per che e facta
in modo de una tela de ragno a la quale ne la parte posteriore se li
coniongne la septima tunicha chiamata arethina per che e facta in modo
de una rethe: et in mezo de la tunicha uuea et de la aranea da la parte
dinanzi glie uno humore dicto albugineo facto a similitudine de uno
albumo de ouo facto per humettare lochio et acio che la tunicha cornea
stia suleuata impero in li homini che moreno quando questo humore se
desicca cade la cornea e se si spiana et a lhora dice el uulgo che
appare una tela dinanzi da gliochii et e signo infalibile de la morte:
Et anche questo humore tiene la pupilla apperta impero quando se sicca
se stringe la pupilla: Nel meze de le due ultime tuniche cio e aranea
et arethina lequale hano origine da nerui obtitii li sono dui humuri
cio e uno humore uitreo a similitudine de uno uetro liquefacto: Laltro
humore e dicto cristallino a similitudine del cristallo: dicto etiam
grandineo a similitudine de una grandine et e alquanto duro e rotondo
cum una certa planitie ne la parte anteriore doue se receueno le spetie
de le cose uisibile: e ne la parte posteriore e de figura pyramidale
cio e che e facta in ponta: et iue se conpisse [folio 12 verso] lacto
del uedere: e ne la parte posteriore e circumdato da lhumore uitreo
dal quale se nutrisse: e questo humore cristalino declina piu uerso la
parte anteriore e lhumore uitreo uerso la parte posteriore. Et a li
ochii uengono li nerui obtitii per li quali se de portano le spetie
uisibile da gliochii al senso comune et ali altri sensi interiori.


_Capitulum quartum de anothomia aurium et membrorum deseruientium
auditui._

Expedito questo tu uederai le orechie poste da doi lati del capo in
mezo de lanteriore parte e posteriore acio che la uoce o uero sono se
potesse audire da ogne canto cio e da la parte drita e stancha dinanzi
e de drieto de sopra e disotto: non furno situate da la parte dinanzi
per che iue li sono gliochii el gusto e lolphato: non furno poste de
drieto per che seriano state tropo distante dal senso comune: forno
poste sotto la tonsura di capilli per che se piu sopra fusene stato
poste seriano state uelate da cepilli e da quelle cose che se portano
in capo.

Furno le orechie rotonde acio fusseno piu capace de laere sonoro: non
furno ossuose acio che per qualche percussione o caso non se rompeseno:
forno adoncha carthilaginose acio che fusseno piu sonore: non furno
etiamdio carnose ne paniculare per che non hauerebeno seruata la figura
e compositione [folio 13 recto] debita.

Hebbe uno buco ritorto e non dritto como quello de le limache acio
che se facesse megliore reuerberatione de laiere sonoro in esse: et
anche ne aiere disproportionato ne sono si tropo forte senza misura
peruenisse a lorgano de laudito: e questo buco e uelato de uno paniculo
duro texuto de fili neruosi che hano origine dal quinto pare de nerui
del cerebro et de fili ligamentali che hano origine da losso petroso al
quale se termina el dicto buco: ne la concauita del quale li e el neruo
auditiuo cio e nel quale se compisse laudito et e texuto in modo de
uno panniculo: et e continuo a la dura matre nel quale se contiene uno
certo spirito auditiuo dal principio de la generatione iue complantato:
et apresso di quello li e una certa uisichetta ne laquale e posto un
certo aiere connaturale el quale deserue a laudito.


_Capitulum quintum de anothomia nasi et aliorum membrorum deseruientium
olphatui._

Le osse de le maxille comenzano da la comissura che e tra el craneo
e losso basilare in luocho che e ne la fine del sopracilio e de la
fronte et procede uerso la parte posteriore a presso losso petroso doue
se termina lorechia e terminano ne la parte di sotto a li denti: de
liquali poi uederemo la nothomia.

El naso e composito de doi ossi figurati [folio 13 verso] secondo la
forma de doi trianguli che hano le ponte in su uerso el collatorio:
et sono lati ne la parte de sotto. Onde el naso e piu largo di sotto
che di sopra e queste ossa furno sutile acio che fusseno ligiere e non
graue: ne anche furno tropo dure per che non li bisognaua in quello
luocho grande forteza.

Fu etiam el naso composto de tre carthilagine cio e doe ne lextremita
de doi ossi acio che le parte molle cio e la cute e li musculi
inmediate non fusseno tochi da le osse dure e che le nare stesseno
aperte e se potesseno dilatare e constringere secondo la neccessita
de laiere atrato & expulso e questo non se harebe potuto fare se solo
fusse stato ossuoso.

La terza carthilagine diuide el naso per mezo per el longo et e piu
dura ne la parte superiore che ne la inferiore: Onde furno facti doi
meati e buchi acio che uscendo le superfluita per uno laltro deseruisse
a laiere atrahato et expulso: Onde essendo uno meato solo ne lexito de
le superfluita harebbe impedito el transito de laiere: questi doe meati
peruengono al collatorio cio [e] uno buco che e ne losso basilare et
similiter iue sono perforati li dui panniculi che copriuano el cerebro
per insino a le caronchole mamillare: lequale sono ne lextremita de le
due parte del uentriculo anteriore del cerebro como e stato dicto.

El naso etiam fu composto de doi musculi [folio 14 recto] picoli acio
che essendo grandi non impedisseno glialtri musculi de la faza cio e
quilli che sono ne le maxille che moueno i labri: et similiter glialtri
musculi.

El naso fu composto per molte rasone: prima per euentare el cerebro:
Secundo ad atrahere laiere: nel quale sono le spetie de le cose
odorabile: e cusi deserue a lolphato: Tertio acio che le littere
prolate meglio se distinguano come el buco grande de la fistola o uero
zalamella deserue ala distinctione di soni: Quarto acio che per questo
meato se expurgaseno le superfluita del cerebro.


_Capitulum sextum de anothomia oris palati dentium uuulae faucum et
linguae._

Ne la bocha sono doi labri uno disotto e laltro si e disopra composti
de nerui carne cute e panniculo de una mirabile comixtione in modo che
la cute e la carne e li nerui et el panniculo non se posseno seperare
insieme: e questo fu facto acio che hauendo bisogno quisti labri di
mouerse per ognie uerso bisogno che fusseno cusi composti per che non
se posse fare in quello luocho musculi per la graueza grande che seria
stata: el paniculo che copre i labri nasce da la tunicha intrinsecha
del meri cio e de la uia che ua a lo stomaco: et consequenter se
continua per questo modo cum la tunicha interiore del stomaco cusi
como etiam dio tute le altre parte de la bocha se [folio 14 verso]
continuano acio chel sentimento del stomaco se conformi al sentimento
de la bocha et per questo appare che quando el de uenire uomito a
qualche uno trema lo labro inferiore.

Da poi li labri sono trentadoi denti sedeci superiori et sedici
inferiori: de li inferiori doi sono dicti duali: doi altri incisiui:
doi altri canini: quatro maxillari: et sei molari che sono in tuto
sedici: & altratanti superiori. Forno facti li denti: prima per
masticare el cibo acio che meglio si digesta: secundo per la uoce et
distinctione de la eloquela cusi como furno facti li labri. Onde quilli
che manchano de denti o de labri non proferiscono bene.

Da poi tu uederai el palato el quale ha una certa concauita ne la
sumittade acio che la uoce habbia el suo tono: et etiam chel cibo
quando se masticha meglio si possa reuolgere per bocha:

Ne la fine del palato tu uederai una carne pendente in modo de uno
grano duua: impero si chiama uuula: et e de substantia rara e spongiosa
per che fu facta principalmente a receuere la humidita che descende
dal capo acio non descenda a membri inferiori impero spesso se tumefa
dicta uuula: fu facta etiamdio acio che temperasse et modulasse la
uoce refrangendo laiere che uiene dal polmone: et etiam che lo aiere
atrahato al polmone lo ritenga al quanto repercutiendolo acio che cusi
frigido non peruenga al polmone [folio 15 recto] ma alquanto alterato:
e per questa rasone appare che quilli che hano tagliata la uuula sono
molto catarosi impero comandano i medici che non se taglie quando e
apostomata: ma che se cauterige cum fuoco.

Dapoi la uuula sono le fauce: e sono li luochi ampli glandosi disposti
a receuere le superfluitade del cerebro impero facilmente se apostemano.

Dapoi e la lingua laquale e fabricata et ligata a losso posteriore del
capo dicto lauda facto a modo de uno A per abacho e fu composta di
carne, panniculo, uene, artharie, et noue musculi: e forno facti tanti
musculi in essa per che se douea molto mouere per ogne uerso secondo
el bisogno de la loquela: Et fu in essa piu uene artharie e nerui che
in qualoncha altro membro rispetto de la sua grandeza: et fu facta la
lingua acio che fusse organo del gusto per nerui che uengono dal terzo
pare di nerui gia dicto circa la sua radice: et sono de due facta nerui
che uengono a la lingua cio e uno paro di nerui motiui a darli el moto:
et uno altro paro di nerui sensitiui a darli el gusto: et tu uederai
che li nerui motiui piu se profondano ne la lingua per darli el mouere:
et li nerui sensitiui sono piu expansi ne la superficie: et nel suo
panniculo a darli el gusto e el tacto: Fu etiam facto la lingua che
deseruisse al proferire de le parole: et etiam a reuolgere el cibo per
bocha quando se masticha.

Circa [folio 15 verso] la radice de la lingua da ciascuno lato sono
carne glandose facte acio che generasseno la humidita saliuale che
hauesse a humetare la lengua acio che non se siccase per tanti
mouimenti che ha in se: et in queste carne glandose sono dui buchi che
poria intrare uno stile e per quilli buchi se distilla la humidita
saliuale. Sotto la lingua sono doe uene grande uiride da le quale poi
procedeno piu altre uene.

Et nota che la megliore lingua quanto al deseruire al parlare e la
lingua che e mediocre ne la longitudine e sua latitudine cio e che non
sia tropo longa ne tropo larga: e che apresso de la ponta et extremita
sua exteriore sia sutile per che la lingua che e longa larga e grossa o
uero tropo picola non e conueniente al parlare.

Nota etiam che la lingua ha colligantia cum el cerebro mediante li
nerui che uengono ad essa et cum el figato mediante le uene: et cum el
core mediante le artharie et cum el stomaco mediante el meri: et cum el
polmono mediante la cana de esso polmone: impero in ciascuna infirmita
i signi de la lengua sono molti efficaci a iudicare di tale infirmita:
e quiue se finisse la anothomia del primo membro principale cio e [el]
cerebro e del suo habitaculo.


_Tractatus secundus de anothomia membrorum spiritualium et secundi
membri principalis: capitulum primum de anothomia gule et colli._

[folio 16 recto] Finito el primo membro principale _e_ ueduta la
anothomia del suo habitaculo e de le altre camare deseruente a quello
resta a uedere la anothomia di gli altri membri principali: E prima
uederemo la nothomia del collo e de la gola che e condutto e meato
dal primo membro principale a glialtri. Diciamo adoncha che la gola
si e uno certo spatio nel quale sono doe uie una che mena el cibo al
stomaco: e questa se chiama meri: Laltra uia mena laiere al pulmone a
rifrigerare el core: & etiam mena fuora laiere e uapori caldi da esso
core: Onde se tu scarni el collo e la gola tu uederai certi musculi
longitudinali sopra liquali nota le uene da tuti doi li canti: et
eleuati quilli musculi tu uederai doe carne ala forma de doe mandole
ne la radice de la lingua: una da ciascuno lato: de le quale habiamo
dicto parte disopra: et anche noi dicemo che sono como doe orechiette
picole, e sono neruose acio [che] siano forte et aiuteno a fare
penetrare laiere a la canna del polmone: et etiam queste tale amigdale
hano a congregare una certa humidita per humettare la lingua como e
stato dicto et per humetare etiam la canna del polmone acio [che] non
se dessiccasse: et anche acio che reimpisseno i luochi uacui de la
gola: et anche acio che fusseno scuto e tutella de le uene & artharie
che ascendeno al capo: Onde per questo collo e gola passano le uene dal
figato ascendendo al cerebro a darli el nutrimento [folio 16 verso]
per esso anche passano le artharie che ascendeno dal core al cerebro
a darli la uita: et acio chel spirito uitale per esse uada al rethe
mirabile delquale e stato dicto douenti animale e chiamase queste
artharie apopletice per che quando se opillano generano la poplesia cio
e el male de la gozola prohibendo el transito del spirito. Per questo
etiam collo passano i nerui che descendeno dal capo ai membri inferiore
a darli el sentire et el mouere: e tute queste parte potrai uedere
escarnando e tagliando el collo e la gola per lo longo.


_Capitulum secundum de anothomia pulmonis et tracheae artharie; id est
cane pulmonis._

Vediamo hora la anothomia del core el quale e laltro membro principale:
e del suo domicilio nel quale e anche collocato el polmone como quello
che serue ad esso core.

Volse Aristotile chel core fusse el primo principio e cagione de tute
le operatione del corpo: e che fusse principio del sentire e del mouere
e del nutrire e del uiuere e che li era solo uno membro principale: e
che el cerebro e el figato erano suoi ministri: ma questo non piaque a
Galieno ne a li altri medici liquali per hora noi seguitemo.

El domicilio adoncha del core si e el luocho del pecto circundato da
le coste dala parte dinanzi e da la parte de drieto [folio 17 recto]
da uno certo panniculo chiamato mediastino e da la parte di sopra el
comenza dal principio de la canna del polmone et terminase ale parte di
sotto a uno paniculo chiamato diafragma. Comentiamo aduncha ala parte
disopra cio e dal principio de la canna del polmone e diciamo che el
meri cio e la uia del cibo et la trachea artharia cioe la canna del
polmone che e uia de lo hanelito comentiano in uno medesimo luocho:
Et impero fece la natura uno coopertorio al principio de la canna del
polmone de una carne carthilaginosa e panniculosa anexa al palato sotto
luuula e questa carne copre lorificio de essa canna del polmone el
quale orificio si chiama epiglotto: acio che ne lhora del transglutire
niente del cibo e del poto descendesce a la uia del polmone per che
indurebbe suffocatione: Impero aduiene che se uno ridendo transglutisse
qualche cosa ua al polmone et appare che lhuomo se soffochi per che
ne lhora del ridere se apre lo epiglotto: Lieua adoncha el meri da la
trachea artharia acio che tu uidi la compositione sua: ma sapii che el
meri e la trachea facilmente se seperano per insino al epyglotto cio
e al orificio de essa trachea ma circa lo epyglotto cum dificulta se
seperano per che la tunica del meri si e dispersa ne lo epyglotto: e
questo fece la natura sagacemente acio che ne lhora del transglutire
del cibo quando [folio 17 verso] el meri se lieua uerso la bocha ad
atrahere el cibo anche lo epyglotto se lieua acio che remanendo gioso
per la sua dureza non impedisse el transito del cibo.

La trachea artharia o uero canna del polmone e composita de anuli
carthilaginosi e panniculosi e de ligamenti che continuano quilli
anuli insieme facta da la natura a transportare laiere al polmone
per auentare el core: & a transportare fuora i uapori caldi da esso
et etiam fu facta a formare la uoce ne la sua extremita cio e ne lo
epyglotto: Questa canna bisogno che fusse carthilaginosa et alquanto
dura et non pelliculare e molle perche bisognaua stare aperta essendo
uia de laiere: e non fu etiam ossuosa per che douea essere flexibile
per la formatione de la uoce: et anche se fusse ossuosa impediria
el transito del cibo per el meri quando fusse tropo: Et per questa
ragione la carthilagine di questa canna non fu una ma furno piu
continuate per certe pellicole insieme: e queste sono facte como certi
semicirculi in modo de uno C per che se fusse una carthilagine seria
dura e comprimirebbe el meri et impediria el transito del cibo. Onde
questa cana ne la parte anteriore e carthilaginosa per che uerso quella
parte non tocha el meri et anche acio che sia piu difesa da le cose
exteriore ma uerso la parte posteriore e pelliculare per insino a lo
epyglotto: La quale poi tuta e carthilaginosa [folio 18 recto] per la
ragione dicta: e questa canna del pulmone non descende se non insino a
la furcula sotto laquale e incontinenti situato el pulmone: et el sito
de essa e ne la parte dinanzi: et dritamente procede e non storta acio
che laiere habbia piu libero ingresso: et lo epyglotto che e principio
di questa canna si e tuto carthilaginoso acio che sia piu sonoro: et
e apresso la bocha acio che sia instrumento dela uoce: laquale poi ne
la bocha douenta locutione per che la uoce finalmente ne lhuomo se
ordina al parlare. Questo epyglotto e composto de tre carthilagine e
uinti musculi: Una carthilagine si e ne la parte anteriore e chiamasi
clipeale a modo de uno capello: Laltra si e ne la parte posteriore
uerso el meri e questa non ha nome: La terza si e in mezo di queste
doe et in essa e una lenguetta in modo de una lingua de zalamella e
chiamasi questa carthilagine fistula de lo epyglotto per che como la
fistula se ordina nel sono cusi questa carthilagine si e ordinata al
canto e la melodia: Questo epyglotto etiam e composto de uinti musculi
a dare el moto uoluntario secondo el bisogno de formare la uoce: e
dodeci di quisti sono da la parte di dentro e octo dala parte de fuori
et a quisti musculi uengono dui nerui che hano origine dal sexto pare
de nerui del cerebro dicti: di quali una parte descende per insino
al core e poi comenza a reascendere per insino a lo epyglotto impero
[folio 18 verso] sono dicti nerui reuersiui li quali sono nerui de la
uoce e quando sono alo epyglotto se spargeno inquisti uinti musculi
a darli el sentire e el mouere. Questi nerui forno reuersiui e non
directi per molte cagione: prima acio [che] fusseno piu forti per che
quanto el neruo e piu remoto dal cerebro tanto e piu sicco e forte: La
seconda acio [che] fuseno facti a modo de uno freno da cauallo acio
chel cerebro meglio mouesse lo epyglotto secondo lo imperio de la sua
uolunta mediante questi nerui como lhuomo moue el cauallo al suo libito
mediante el freno: La terza cagione e per che la uoce non solo depende
dal cerebro como dal principio del moto uoluntario ma etiam depende
dal core como da quello nel quale se formano i concepti del cerebro et
consequenter i concepti de la uoce: bisogno adoncha che dicti nerui
comunicasseno al core: La quarta cagione e per che quisti nerui douendo
uegnire ali musculi predicti bisogno che uigniseno al principio de
dicti musculi e non a la fine: et el principio di quisti musculi de lo
epyglotto e ne la parte inferiore.

Da poi la trachea artharia tu uederai el pulmone ala compositione del
quale concorreno piu parte ramificate como fili sutili ad ordire la sua
substantia: La prima parte che entra ne la substantia del polmone si e
la trachea artharia laquale [folio 19 recto] como gionge a la furcula
del pecto se diuide in doe parte: una ua al dritto e laltra al sinistro
del pulmone e ciascuna di quelle se diuide in doe altre parte cio e
superiore et inferiore: e ciascuno de quilli rami: se diuide etiam in
rami minori e cusi diuidendosi peruengono a rami minimi como fili e
circundano tuta la substantia del pulmone. Una altra parte che ordisse
la substantia del pulmone si e una certa uena che ha origine dal
uentriculo dritto del core laquale porta el sangue sutile dal core a
nutrire el pulmone: e chiamasi uena arthariale Vena per che non pichia
arthariale per che e composta de doe tuniche como sono le artharie: e
questa uena se ramifica ne la substantia del pulmone como la trachea
artaria.

La terza parte che compone el pulmone si e una certa artharia che nasce
dal sinistro uentriculo del core dicta artharia uenale: Artharia per
che pichia Venale per che e composta de una tunica como le altre uene
et per questa artharia se transporta dal pulmone al core laiere che
uiene da la trachea artharia a refrigerare esso core: Et perquesta
artharia etiam se manda dal core al pulmone laiere e uapori caldi
e dal polmone poi escono fuori per essa trachea e questa artharia
similiter se ramifica como le altre doe parte predicte: Onde li rami
de la trachea [folio 19 verso] e de lartharia uenale e uena arthariale
compongono tuto el pulmone in modo de una rethe: et i buchi de questa
rethe reimpisse una certe carne molle spongiosa laquale proprio e
substantia de esso pulmone: Et tute queste quatro parte predicte sono
inuolute da uno certo panniculo che ha origine da uno panniculo che
e sotto le coste chiamato pleura del quale poi se dira per questo
panniculo ha el pulmone el sentimento per che el pulmone non sente
secondo la sua substantia.

Et nota che li rami de la trachea artharia sono magiori che li rami de
la uena arthariale, et de la artharia uenale per che nascono da magiore
troncho et etiam nota che el pulmone e magiore ne la parte dritta che
ne la stancha per che dal lato stancho glie el core che occupa quello
luocho: Similiter e magiore ne la parte posteriore che ne la parte
anteriore: Questo membro sie como flabello del core a refrigerarlo et
etiam a mondificarlo da li uapuri che continue se generano in esso:
impero e seruo e ministro del core.


_Capitulum tertium de anothomia cordis quod est secundum membrum
principale._

Dapoi te apparera el core nel mezo del pulmone cooperto da le sue
penole acio che laiere atrahatto da esso pulmone lo refrigere, e
del suo caldo e spirito se tempri: Questo membro tra lialtri quatro
e principalissimo per che e el primo che ne la generatione [folio
20 recto] uiue et e lultimo che more. Questo membro e de mediocre
quantita per rispecto di li altri membri de lhuomo: ma per rispecti
di li cori de lialtri animali e molto grande perche lhuomo ha piu del
caldo naturale che glialtri animali quantitatiue et non intensiue:
Et e di figura pyramidale cio e de la forma del fuocho per che esso
e de excellente calidita impero bisogno che fusse de una figura che
asomigliasse a la figura del fuocho: e questa tale figura se chiama
pigneale cio e simile ala figura de una pigna laquale e lata disotto
e strecta di sopra et di tale figura fu facto acio che meglio se
facessono distinctione de le sue cellule o uentriculi: et etiam se
fusse stato de una figura tuta uniforme como e la parte disotto seria
stato tropo graue e ponderoso. Questo membro e situato nel mezo de tuto
el corpo tolti uia glie extremi cio e nel mezo de le parte superiore et
inferiore: nel mezo de le parte dinanzi e de drieto, e nel mezo de la
parte dritta e sinistra como uno re che sta nel mezo del suo regname e
questo fu facto acio [che] potesse equalmente dare la uirtu de la uita
a tuti membri: E benche el core sia quanto al suo fondamento et ala
sua base nel mezo tamen secondo la sua ponta declina al lato stancho
sotto la mamilla sinistra acio che riscaldasse la parte sinistra
como el figato riscalda la parte dritta: e questo [folio 20 verso]
membro se sustenta e ferma de uno certo osso cartilaginoso per che e
in continuo mouimento: bisogno aduncha che hauesse uno apogiamento
alquale se fermasse nel suo mouimento: Et e etiam composto de una certa
pinguedine ne la parte exteriore acio che prohibisca chel core non se
desichi tenendolo humectato: Et e composto di certe uene et artharie
disperse per la sua substantia: et e composto etiamdio de una certa
carne dura per che haueua a sustignire de molti e forti mouimenti: Et
etiam fu composto de uili longitudinali latitudinali e transuersali per
che bisognaua che hauesse uirtu de atrahere retignire et expellere: E
questo membro ha tri uentriculi o uero tre cellule como ha el cerebro.
Uno uentriculo e dal lato dritto e laltro dal lato stancho e el terzo
e in mezo: el uentriculo dritto uerso el figato: el quale ha doi
orificii: uno e uerso el figato et e molto grande nel quale entra una
uena chiamata uena chilis laquale nasce dal gibbo del figato e porta
el sangue dal figato al core: Et in questo uentriculo dextro del core
se puriffica quello sangue e cusi purificato poi lo manda el core a
tuti li altri membri: e per che per questo orificio ha el core piu ad
atrahere che ad expellere impero ordino la natura che ne lhora de la
constrictione quando de expellere che questo orificio se chiudesse: e
che [folio 21 recto] quando el core se dilatta se aprisse: Et iui sono
tre hostiolitti o uero usitti liquali se apreno da fuora adentro: e
questi hostioli non sono molto depressi e per che per questo medesimo
orificio se expelle el sangue depurato aglialtri membri ma non tuto per
che una parte ua al polmone e de laltra parte se ne fa spirito uitale:
impero ordino la natura che quisti hostioli non se chiudesseno in tuto:
E da questa uena chilis inanzi che entri la concauita del core nasce
un altra uena laquale circunda la radice del core e da quella nascono
alcuni rami che se disparghono per la substantia del core: E del sangue
de questa uena se nutrisse esso core.

Uno altro orificio ha questo uentriculo destro uerso el pulmone nel
quale entra la uena arthariale che porta el sangue dal core a nutrire
el pulmone: Et in questo orificio li sono etiam tri hostioli liquali se
apreno de la parte dentro a la parte difuori e se chiudeno da la parte
difuori a la parte di dentro per el contrario di li hostioli de laltro
orificio: e questo e per che in tuto se chiudeno: Onde per questo
orificio el core ne lhora de la constrictione solo ha ad expellere:
e ne lhora de la sua dilatatione non ha ad atrahere alcuna cosa como
faceua nel primo orificio.

El uentriculo sinistro del core ha i lati piu densi e piu spissi che li
lati o uero parieti del uentriculo dextro: e questo [folio 21 verso] fu
per tre ragione: La prima per che nel uentriculo dextro se de contenere
el sangue el quale e graue. E nel uentriculo sinistro se de continere
el spirito el quale e molto ligiero: acio aduncha chel core non fusse
piu graue e ponderoso da una parte che da laltra bisogno recompensare
in questo modo cio e che lo uentriculo stancho hauesse piu groseza ne
li suoi parieti che el dextro: La seconda cagione e che essendo el
spirito piu suttile e piu resolubile chal sangue bisogno adoncha che
el suo habitaculo hauesse piu grosso e de megliore sponde: La terza
cagione si e per che el uentriculo sinistro e molto piu caldo cha el
dextro per che iui se genera el spirito dal sangue per una grande
calidita che suttiglia quello sangue e la calidita meglio se conserua
nel subiecto denso e grosso:

Ne la concauita di questo uentriculo circa la sua radice li sono dui
orificii: uno si e lorificio de una artharia chiamata artharia adorti
per che inmediate ha origine dal core e per che e principio de la
origine de tute le altre: per laquale artharia manda el core el spirito
generato a tuti i membri: et etiam el sangue molto suttile insieme cum
el spirito e questo fa quando el core se constringe: Onde nel principio
di questo orificio li sono tri hostioli liquali in tuto se chiudeno da
la parte difuori a quella dentro: e se se apreno da la parte dentro a
la parte difuori e questo [folio 22 recto] orificio e molto profundo.

Laltro orificio si e de lartharia uenale laquale transporta laiere dal
polmone a refrigerare el core e transporta i uapori caldi dal core al
polmone como e stato dicto disopra: Et in questo orificio li sono doi
hostioli che non se chiudeno altuto: Et sono molto eleuati acio che
se apogiono melglio a la sponda del core quando el manda el spirito:
Queste sono mirabile opere de la natura como anche mirabile opera fu
nel uentriculo mezo del core per che questo uentriculo non ha una
concauita ma piu lequale sono picole ma larghe e piu nela drita parte
che la sinistra: E questo fece la natura acio chel sangue che ua dal
drito uentriculo al sinistro per conuertersi in spirito continuamente
se uegna suttigliando per quelle concauita.

Et per questo tu poi uedere che dal core nascono quatro cose cio e
lartharia chiamata adhorti: Laltra si e la uena chilis: la terza si e
la uena arthariale: e la quarta si e artharia uenale.

Anche uederai nel core certe parte pelliculare & in modo de auricule o
uero orechiette apte a dillatarsi e constringersi facte da la natura
acio che quando nel core se genera molto sangue o molto spirito se
potesse el core dilatare a contenire quello sangue o quello spirito
multiplicato et anche se constrinza quando non glie tanta habundantia
di sangue o de spirito.

E qui adimanda Galieno [folio 22 verso] per che non fece la natura
el core si grande che potesse continere ogne multitudine di sangue
e de spirito senza quilli adittamenti di quelle pellicule. Risponde
Galieno che questo fu: prima perche el core seria stato tropo grande:
et consequenter tropo ponderoso: Secundario per che non se generando
sempre molta quantita de sangue o de spirito sel core fusse stato tropo
grande per la piu parte de le uolte la concauita del core seria stata
uacua: ma queste tale auricule se dillatano ne lo aduenimento del
sangue o del spirito e cusi se stringono ne la paucita soa.

Questo core e circumdato da uno panniculo duro neruoso o uero
pelliculare facto in modo de una cassetta nel quale e posto el core
como in uno suo tabernaculo a diffensarlo da le cose occurrente: Et e
questa capsula molto dilatata acio chel core ne la sua dillatatione e
mouimento non fusse agrauato da essa: Et etiam fece la natura questa
capsula acio che continesse una certa aquosita rorida de laquale se
bagnasse et humetasse el core acio che per el suo continuo mouimento
non se sichasse: Onde quando questa aqua che e ne la capsula del core
sie desiccata etiam se desicca esso cuore et consequenter se demacra e
desicca tuto el corpo.


_Capitulum quartum de anothomia trium panniculorum interiorum scilicet
mediastine, pleure, & diafragmatis._

[folio 23 recto] Tri sono li panniculi interiori diquesto domicilio del
core: Uno che se chiama mediastino che diuide la concauita del pecto
per mezo cio e la parte dinanzi da la parte de drieto et consequenter
diuide el polmone per mezo: e questo panniculo non e neruoso ne anche
e ueramente uno continuo como li altri paniculi: e questo ha facto la
natura per alcune utilita: prima acio che se una parte del polmone
receuesse nocumento di qualchi superflui humuri che se agregasseno in
quella non peruegnisse el nocumento e non regurgitasse quella materia a
laltra parte; Secundario acio che tenesse suspeso e ligato el polmone
al pecto.

El secondo panniculo chiamato pleura e uno panniculo duro e neruoso e
molto grande: el quale copre tute le coste da la parte dentro: impero
ha colligantia cum tuti li membri liquali se contengono ne la concauita
del pecto e questo panniculo fece la natura acio che cuprisse tuti
quilli membri a sua tutela; et acio che li paniculi dili membri tuti
del pecto hauesseno principio et origine da quello.

El terzo panniculo se chiama Diafragma e da Aristotile e chiamato
diazona per che e como una cintura che cinge per mezo: Questo panniculo
e musculoso cio e carnoso e neruoso et e situato ne la fine del pecto
e de le coste e ne la parte dinanzi quanto a la parte sua [folio 23
verso] carnosa e continuato cum le carthilagine de le coste mendose, e
ne la parte posteriore e continuato cum la duodecima spondile doue sono
le rene: De le coste e di li spondili poi noi diremo.

La utilita de questo panniculo prima fu acio chel seperasse li membri
spirituali da li membri naturali cio e el secondo domicilio dal terzo
acio che li fumi leuati da le feze non peruegniseno a li membri
spirituali: Secundario per che ha a mouere el pulmone al mouimento
de lo hanelito: e questo panniculo benche cingha per mezo oblique
tamen et non ex directo: e la cagione di questa obliquita sie che da
questo panniculo insieme cum el myrach del quale poi noi diremo se
comprimino le feze che sono ne lintestini ne lhora de la egestione
como se fusseno tra doe asse de uno torchio: E quanto a la parte meza
di questo panniculo laquale e neruosa e panniculosa e colligato cum
el pulmone per darli el mouimento como e stato dicto mediante i nerui
quali uengono ad esso dal cerebro e da la nucha e per questo appare la
cagione de la diuersita de el Diafragma e de li altri musculi per che
li altri musculi nel luocho doue se congiongeno cum el membro quale
debeno mouere sono como corde e ne li altri luochi sono carnosi per
che sono facti principaliter a mouere le osse: ma nel diafragma e tuto
el contrario per che fu instituito principalmente [folio 24 recto] a
mouere el pulmone e non le ossa, e per questo appare chel diafragma sie
rotondo cum una certa longitudine e che la sua substantia e musculosa e
cordosa e che le utilitade sue sono tre: Prima acio che sia principio
del moto de lo hanelito: Secundo acio che diuida tra membri spirituali
e naturali: Tertio acio che aiuti el mirach ad expellere le superfluita
quale sono ne lintestini.


_Capitulum quintum de anothomia pectoris seu toracis continentis membra
spiritualia._

Dicto di li membri che sono contenuti dentro dal pecto: poniamo
adesso la anothomia de esso pecto: e disopra habiamo dicto che glie
uno paniculo chiamato pleura quale copre tute le coste da la parte di
dentro: Da poi quello panniculo tu uederai le ossa le quale sono di
doe maniere cio e le coste e li spondili che sono como sponde doue se
apogiano le coste lequale sono dodece da ciascuno lato cio e septe
uere e cinque mendose: Le coste uere sono continuate cum li spondili
a coprire et perficere el pecto: ma le mendose non: et una costa non
attinge laltra ne la extremita acio che meglio se possa dilatare e
constringere el pecto: Li spondili sono septe che se coniungono cum le
septe coste uere mediante certe cartilagine lequale sono tra luno e
laltro: e da queste carthilagine cum le sue ossa [folio 24 verso] se
compone uno membro chiamato la furcula del pecto facta a modo de una
furcula bifurchata; e ne la extremita sua li e una certa carthilagine
facta a modo de uno scuto a custodire la bocha del stomaco e chiamasi
pomo granato: Da li lati de le coste mendose sono certe carthilagine.

Da poi uenendo a le parte de fuora: sono alcuni musculi di li quali
alcuni sono a dillatare el pecto e sono dui musculi del Diafragma posti
ne le parte inferiore del pecto: et hano a dillatare el Diafragma
et consequenter el pecto ne la parte inferiore doue e una grande
spaciosita: Item li sono dui altri musculi liquali sono nel collo et
hano a dillatare la concauita superiore del pecto la quale e picola.
Item sono altri musculi ne la schina doue e la origine de le coste,
e comenzano apresso la origine de la prima costa: Item sono molti
altri musculi picoli liquali cum difficulta se possono uedere ne la
anothomia: e tuti quisti musculi predicti sono solo a dillatare.

Alcuni altri musculi sono a dilatare e constringere e sono situati
tra le coste perche tra ciascune doe coste li sono doi musculi di
liquali uno ha li uili latitudinali a dillatare, e laltro ha li uili
transuersali a constringere.

Oltra questi musculi appare la pinguedine le mamille e la cute: La
cute e la pinguedine e asai manifesta [folio 25 recto] impero solo noi
direme de la anothomia de le mamille e haueremo fornito la anothomia
del secondo domicilio e del secondo membro principale.


_Capitulum sextum de anothomomia mamillarum et de utilitatibus earum._

La figura de le mamille si e in modo de una cucha rotonda per che
bisognaua essere capace del sangue che se ha a connetere in lacte e la
figura rotonda e piu capace cha le altre: et etiam per che le mamille
sono como scuto del core impero doueano hauere una figura piu secura da
li nocumenti: e questa tale figura e la rotonda.

Le mamille hebbeno doi capi picoli acio che la creatura potesse suciare
el lacte: E la substantia sua si e certe carne glandose le quale de sua
natura sono frigide acio che el sangue douenti biancho in esse e questo
non se fa senon per infrigidatione del dicto sangue.

La quantita de le mamille ne la dona e magiore che nel maschio per che
bisognaua generare el lacte ne la dona e non nel maschio. Et etiam
essendo la femina piu frigida chel maschio bisogno essere magiore le
mamille in esse acio che facesseno magiore reuerberatione del caldo al
core et per questa reuerberatione lo fortifficaseno.

Le mamille ne lhuomo forno facte due como in tuti li altri animali che
generano una o doe creature: ma ne [folio 25 verso] glialtri animali
che generano piu figlioli sono facte piu mamille.

Ne lhuomo forno situate nel pecto e ne li altri animali nel uentre: e
questo fu per molte casone: La prima secondo Galieno e chel sangue del
quale se genera el lacte deba essere ben digesto impero bisogno essere
propinque al core ne lhuomo per la cui calidita quello sangue fusse
meglio digesto: ma ne li altri animali molta quantita de tale sangue
superfluo ua a conuertirse in corni o in altri membri.

La seconda cagione asegna Aristotile che li altri animali hano le gambe
dinanzi molto strette et impero hano el pecto molto stretto: ma ne
lhuomo el pecto e amplo: onde non potete la natura situare le mamille
ne glialtri animali como ne lhuomo.

La terza cagione si e chel core de lhuomo hebbe bisogno de essere
piu deffensato che el core de li altri animali li quali li hano pili
disopra impero fece la natura le mamille como defensaculo ne lhuomo che
non ha pili inquelle parte.

Le mamille hano colligantia cum el core e cum el figato per una certa
uena che ascende dal figato ad esse mamille: ha etiam dio colligantia
cum la matrice mediante certe uene che uengono da la matrice ad esse e
procedeno quelle uene tortuose acio che continuamente se asuttiglie el
sangue e meglio se digesta a conuertirse in lacte.


[folio 26 recto] _Tractatus tertius de anothomia tertii membri
principalis scilicet epatis et eidem deseruientibus: capitulum primum
de anothomia stomaci._

Veduto de doi membri principali et di li suoi ministri et etiam de li
suoi domicilii vediamo mo la anothomia do doi altri membri principali
cio e figato e testiculi et di li membri che sono suoi ministri et
etiam de li suoi domicilii: E noi determinaremo de tuti dui quisti
inquesto tractato per che li membri che deserueno a la generatione non
hanno distincto domicilio da li membri nutritiui: E questo domicilio
comenza dal pomo granato che copre la bocha del stomaco del quale
habiamo dicto e dura per insino al petenechio inclusiue includendoli la
uirga e li testiculi: et questo e quanto per lo longo, ma quanto per el
largo dura da uno fiancho a laltro e per el profondo dura da la cute de
lombelico che copre el corpo dinanzi dale coste ingioso per insino a
laschina de drieto:

Inquesto domicilio li sono contenuti di molti membri cio e stomaco,
intestini, figato, fele, milza misinterii, girbo, rognoni, vesica,
testiculi, vasi spermatici, matrice ne la femina, e la uirga ne lhuomo
de liquali membri solo dui sono principali cio e el figato et li
testiculi secondo Galieno, o uasi spermatici secondo Aristotile.

Noi adoncha sequitaremo secondo el nostro ordine consueto comentiando
a li membri superiori e descendendo a linferiori. Comentiaremo [folio
26 verso] adoncha dal stomaco e dal meri che e uia del cibo ad esso
stomaco, E noi habiamo dicto di sopra che como la cana del pulmone era
conducto de laiere cusi el meri era conducto del cibo e del poto: E che
la bocha de la cana del pulmone e la bocha del meri erano congionte
insieme per la rasone iue dicta.

La sustantia di questo meri sie pelliculare e molle como la cana del
pulmone e pelliculare e carthilaginosa e bisogno chel meri fusse molle
acio potesse dilatarsi quando lhuomo piglia tropo cibo, et anche questo
meri non sta aperta como fa la cana del pulmone ma per la sua mollitie
una parte cade sopra laltra.

La subatantia del meri e composta de doe tuniche una intrinsecha che
ha certi uili o neruetti longitudinale che sono facti ad atrahere el
cibo: e laltra sie exteriore lie laquale sono uili latitudinali facti
ad expellere quello che e stato atratto da la tunicha interiore: benche
la prima tunicha sie piu principale che la seconda.

La quantita del meri e magiore che non e la quantita de la cana del
pulmone per che el meri ua piu longo che non fa essa cana: Onde el
meri ua per insino al diafragma e desotto da esso se continua cum la
bocha del stomaco onde el stomaco e incontinenti sotto el diafragma: Et
anche el meri e magiore in largheza per che hauea a passare per esso
cosa piu grosa che non e [folio 27 recto] laiere.

Questo etiam Meri e posto piu nel profondo uerso le parte posteriore
cio e uerso la schina doue ua a ritrouare la bocha del stomaco laquale
bocha e uerso le parte posteriore: per che la bocha del stomaco e
ligata ala schina ex directo in el principio de la sua ligatura cio e
a la decima terza spondile sotto el diafragma: el quele se termina ala
duodecima spondile e poi consequenter procede el stomaco aligandosi ali
spondili de le rene.

Questo stomaco sie cella del cibo et e quasi in mezo de tuto el corpo
como e stato dicto del core: per che essendo como lauezo doue se ha a
cocere el cibo bisogno essere in mezo acio chel receuesse calore da
tute le parte e da tuti li membri circumstanti: et non fu posto el
stomaco apresso de la bocha per la rasone dicta: Tu uederai adoncha el
stomaco hauere sopra si el core e el diafragma e desotto el misinterio
e lintestini: da la parte dritta el figato el quale lo abraza cum
cinque sue penole: da la parte sinistra la milza laquale li rende
calore mediante le sue artharie: da la parte dinanzi ha una rethe
chiamata el Girbo: da la parte de drieto li musculi de la schina e una
uena grande e una artharia che passa per la schina como poi se uedera:
da tuti quisti membri receue calore el stomaco acio che coza bene el
cibo.

E ben chel stomaco sia situato sopra de la Schina niente di meno la
parte sua superiore declina al [folio 27 verso] lato stancho, e la
parte inferiore al lato drito: e questo fu per che ne la parte dritta
li e el figato molto eleuato ne le parte superiore, e la milza ne la
parte stancha e piu de pressa: impero la parte superiore del stomaco
non se potete locare ne la parte dritta per che el figato occupaua
quello luocho ma ben se potete locare ne la sinistra cio e disopra dala
milza doue li era uacuita. Item per che disotto dal figato li sono
glintestini suttili e gracili liquali occupano pocho luocho et iue
remane una grande concanita impero fu locata la parte inferiore del
stomaco iue a reimpire quella concauita: Et per che etiam ne la parte
stancha disotto da la milza apresse de le rene glie uno intestino molto
grosso chiamato colon el quale occupa uno grande luocho impero non se
potete locare dicta parte inferiore nel lato stancho.

Una altra cagione per laquale el stomaco non fu posto a presso de
la bocha e perche apresso de la bocha bisognorno essere i membri
de lo hanelito ad atrahere laiere: Et anche per che el bisognaua
che glintestini fusseno continuati cum el stomaco, e bisognaua che
glintestini fusseno disotto dal diafragma.

Et per questo appare che per molte cagione el stomac non fu locate per
el dritto ma per lo storto e per lo obliquo: la prima si e gia dicta
acio reimpisse la uacuita de la parte dritta e stancha: La seconda per
che essendo lhuomo de statura dritta non retigniria bene el cibo [folio
28 recto] ma subito uscirebe fuori per la bocha disotto: La terza
cagione per che bisognaua chel stomaco receuesse da la milza quanto a
la bocha superiore lhumore melenconico a darli lapetito: et quanto a
la bocha disotto bisono che receuesse lhumore collerico dal figato: et
impero bisogno che la bocha superiore del stomaco fusse dal lato stanco
doue e la milza e la bocha inferiore fusse dal lato dritto doue e el
figato.

E per questo appare chel stomaco ha colligantia cum la milza per
certe nene che portano lhumore melenconico ad esso: et ha similiter
colligantia cum el figato per molte altre uene che li portano el
nutrimento dal figato: et ha colligantia cum el core mediante una
grande artharia che e posta sotto esso: et ha colligantia cum el
cerebro mediante uno certo neruo el quale ua ala bocha del stomaco et
iue se sparge e diuidese circa la superiore parte de esso stomaco.

La figura del stomaco fu rotonda acio che fusse piu tuta da li
nocumenti extrinseci et acio anche che fusse piu capace per che
bisognaua continere di molto cibo: Ma non fu perfectamente rotonda per
la rasone dicta per che bisognaua che una parte declinasse al lato
dritto e laltra al lato stanco impero e di figura arcuale in modo de
una cucha ritorta e fu molto grande el stomaco acio potesse receuere
grande quantita de cibo.

El stomaco e composto de due tuniche: Una interiore laquale e neruosa
e laltra [folio 28 verso] exteriore e carnosa: Et la prima tunica
neruosa e piu grossa e spessa che la seconda per che hauea a tochare
el cibo acio che non receuesse nocumento da esso e per che se potesse
dilatare e constringere secondo el bisogno de la quantita del cibo: ma
la tunicha exteriore fu piu suttile onde e da notare che la tunicha
interiore bisogno essere neruosa per molte rasone: prima per che in
essa & de essere lapetito e el sentimento e non e dubio che meglio se
sente la cosa quando senza mezo ocorre al sentimento: ma la exteriore
fu carnosa facta a digerire et alterare el cibo: la alteratione e
digestione se puo ben fare per mezo e non occorrendo in mediate a la
cosa: Questa tunicha adoncha exteriore e piu suttile che la interiore
per che e aiutata dai membri circumstanti a digerere: non bisogno
essere adoncha tropo grossa.

La tunicha interiore e deputata ad atrahere el cibo et a retignirlo
debito tempo per insino che se digestisse: impero ha alcuni uili
longitudinali ne la superficie interiore mediante li quali atrahe a
se el cibo: e ne la superficie exteriore ha alcuni uili transuersali
per liquali ritiene el cibo: Et la tunicha exteriore ha a digerire el
cibo et consequenter ha ad expelerlo quando e digesto: impero in essa
certi uili latitudinali sono posti per liquali ha ad expellere el cibo
digesto:

La bocha del stomaco superiore e piu lata che non e la inferiore
per che [folio 29 recto] per la bocha disopra hauea intrare el cibo
grosso indigesto e per la bocha disotto hauea uscire el cibo suttile
e digesto: E quisti doi orificii non sono facti molto eminenti ma la
parte inferiore del stomaco e piu disotto che la bocha inferiore acio
chel cibo se retegna et similiter la parte superiore del stomaco e piu
eminente e piu insuso che non e la bocha superiore acio che essendo
el stomaco pieno de cibo inclinandosi lhuomo cum la bocha in giu non
ritornasse el cibo fuora.

Doe adoncha sono le utilita del stomaco: Una ad appetere el cibo
necessario per tuto el corpo: e questo fa per la tunicha neruosa
interiore e laltra e a digerere el cibo e questo fa per la tunica
exteriore carnosa.


_Capitulum secundum tractatus tertii de anothomia intestinorum et
misinterii_.

Dapoi il stomaco li sequitano glintestini li quali sono sei reuoluti
cioe tri suttili e tri grossi et non fu ne lhuomo uno solo intestino
recto ma furno piu e circumuoluti acio chel cibo longo tempo se
continesse nel stomaco et intestini per che se cusi non fusse
bisogneria che lhuomo fusse in continua asumptione de cibo, et in
continua egestione e seria stato lhuomo molto occupato in tale uile
operatione: Et anche sel fusse stato uno solo intestino recto non seria
stato tuto el cibo da ciascuna parte de lo [folio 29 verso] intestino
toco et consequenter non seria stato exsiccata tuta lhumiditade del
cibo: Acio adoncha tuta la humidita del cibo sia desiccata et atratta
al figato e che niente o pocha non rimanga ne le feze: Furno facti piu
intestini circumuoluti: El primo adoncha intestino e chiamato duodeno
et e suttile e chiamasi duodeno perche e longo quanto e dodice uolte
el dito grosso di quello tale: Et in questo intestino li entra el
cibo como e digesto nel stomaco per la bocha de sotto de esso stomaco
chiamata portonaria o uero pylerum cum la quale se continua questo
intestino duodeno. Digesto andoncha el cibo nel stomaco se apre questo
portonario e manda la uirtu expulsiua del stomaco questo tale cibo ne
lo intestino duodeno: A questo intestino ua uno canale o uero condutto
dal fele per el quale se porta la collera ad esso intestino. Da poi
questo intestino li sequitan uno altro intestino suttile chiamato
ieiuno perche e la piu parte del tempo uacuo per doe ragione: Prima per
che e dritto e non inuoluto: La seconda per che una grande multitudine
de collera pura uiene ad esso per quello medesimo condutto che ua al
duodeno: e questa collera mordica lo intestino e fa descendere gioso el
cibo.

Dapoi sequita el terzo intestino suttile chiamato ileon per che e
situato circa gli ilii id est li fianchi: Onde in questo intestino glie
uiene el dolore iliaco cio e dolore de fianco e questo [folio 30 recto]
intestino hebbe molte inuolutione, et anche ad esso peruengono de molte
uene picole dal figato chiamate mesaraiche: E questo fece la natura
acio che el figato atrahesse la humorosita dal cibo per quelle uene,
onde a questo intestino li peruengono piu uene mesaraiche che nesuno di
li altri.

Dapoi questi tri intestini sutili sucedeno li grossi: E questo fu facto
per che quanto el cibo uiene piu descendendo tanto piu douentano dure
le feze e piu grosse impero bisogno che glintestini inferiori fusseno
piu ampli che li superiori.

El primo adoncha intestino grosso che sequita ali suttili si e chiamato
monoculo, non per che habia solo uno oreficio per che questo seria
impossibile anzi ne ha doi como li altri uno per elquale atrahe el
cibo e laltro per elquale expelle: ma per che quisti doi oreficii
inquesto intestino sono uno a presso de laltro como coiuncti e non
dispartiti como ne glialtri impere appare hauere solo uno oreficio,
onde per questo monoculo e chiamato: Et anche chiamato sacco per che
pende la sua concauita como un sacco stando li suoi orificii de sopra:
Questo intestino e situato ne la parte dritta apresso lancha e disotto
dal rognone dritto. E fu facto acio che retinesse el cibo ançi lo
reuerberase a li intestini superiori e prohibisse che non descendesse
acio che in quilli intestini se esuccasse dal figato la sua humidita
como e stato dicto.

Da poi questo intestino sequita laltro grosso [folio 30 verso] chiamato
colon per che ha piu colli o uero cellule ne lequale el stercho recceue
la sua forma.

Questo intestino ha de molte inuolutione circa el rognon stancho e poi
ascende e copre la milza e poi se declina a la parte dritta uendo piu
uerso le parte exteriore e copre el stomaco.

E per questo appare la cagione per che fu locato sopra del stomaco e de
sopra tuti li altri intestini: questo fu per che era piu ignobile de
lialtri, e como membro piu ignobile fu posto uerso le parte exteriore
et anche per che le feze se indurano in esso acio che hauesse qualche
humidita dal girbo del quale poi noi uederemo. Laltra cagione de cio e
che essendo questo intestino facto a continere et expellere le feze ma
piu ad expelere impero bisognaua ad esso uenire piu collera che hauesse
a stimulare la uirtu expulsiua piu che ne glialtri: impero sopra di
quello ne la parte dritta una penula del figato doue e alligata la
cesta del fele como appare al sentimento: e questo fu che de sopra de
questo intestini li peruenisse la collera oltra quella che ua a la sua
concauita como etiam ua a le concauita de glialtri intestini.

La substantia di questo intestino e grossa e sollida facta cusi per la
uentosita grande che se genera in esso laquale fa dolore fortissimo
chiamato dolore collico: Et in questo intestino se generano certi uermi
longi [folio 31 recto] et altre manerie de uermi chiamati lombrici.

Da poi e lultimo intestino chiamato intestino dritto de el quale la
extremita et oreficio inferiore se chiama ano o uero culo: e uasene
uerso el fiancho stancho doue poi comenza lo intestino colon predicto.
In questo intestino recto li sono una grande moltitudine de uene
meserayce che uengono a sugare se qualche humidita fusse rimasta ne le
feze.

Quisti sono adoncha li sei intestini liquali sono alligati a la schina
mediante uno certo membro chiamato misinterio o uero intriglio quasi
interiora tenens che non solo glintestini ma tute le uiscere sono
alligate per questo interiglio ala schina et impero questo membro fu
composto de uene, corde, panniculi, e ligamenti acio potesse ligare li
predicti membri: Et e etiam e composto de una sustantia seposa e pingue
acio che li membri duri como sono li spondili non se congiongesseno
senza mezo cum li membri molli cio e cum li intestini e le altre
uiscere acio che el molle non receuesse nocumento dal duro. Le altre
uacuita di questo membro sono reimpite de certe sustantie glandose,
facte etiam acio che sustentino le uene meseraiche che sono disperse in
questo membro: et forse che sono facte etiam a generare la humidita che
humetti la feze de glintestini acio che piu tosto lubrichi: et impero
uedemo che mangiando cibi duri [folio 31 verso] niente dimeno quello
che nesce per egestione e liquido.


_Capitulum tertium de anothomia epatis quod est tertium membrum
principale: et de uenis orientibus ab eo._

Vediamo mo del terzo membro principale situato in questo palazo et e el
figato alquale deseueno tuti li altri membri che sono posti quiue. El
figato naturalmente e situato sotto el diafragma et non sotto le coste
uere, ma una parte de esso sta sotto le parte mendose: benche ne lhuomo
morto appara essere locato tuto sotto le coste, e questo e per che li
membri spirituali ne lhumo morto sono molto anihilati et el figato ua a
reimpire le uacuita derelicte: impero quando tu fai la anothomia tu dei
eleuare el corpo morte e tirare in gioso el figato acio chel uada al
suo luocho naturale.

La quantita del figato fu molto granda ne lhuomo per che e molto
sanguineo e de natura calda e humida.

El figato sie composto de certe uene diuise e disperse in modo de una
rethe et le uacuita sue reimpisse una certa carne rossa che e como
sangue coagulato: Et per queste uene se si sparze el cibo digesto nel
stomaco chiamato chile cio facto in modo de suco dorzo che cusi douenta
nel stomaco, e questo fu facto acio che se diuidesse in parte picole
che tuto el figato potesse tochare tuto quello chilo acio che meglio lo
conuertisse in sangue: Ma nel stomaco non sono tal uene done se hauesse
a receuere el cibo ma solo [folio 32 recto] li fece una concauita per
che li cibi che se pigliano sono molto grossi che non harebono potuto
penetrare per dicte uene. Questa decocione che se fa nel figato a
conuertere el chile in sangue piu se compisse ne la parte superiore: et
impero quella parte e piu solida e dura: Hebbe el figato cinque penule
benche ne lhuomo non siano sempre diuise che se possano uedere.

Questo figato ha doe parte cio e la parte gibosa e la parte concaua, et
ha colligantia cum el core per una certa uena che nasce dal suo gibo
e uasene al core, et e chiamata uena chilis: Et etiam ha colligantia
cum el diafragma alquale sta suspenso. Et similiter a li spondili de
la schina ala quale e alligato mediante un certo paniculo: Onde ha dui
panniculi uno chel suspende e liga al diafragma e ala schina e laltre
chel copre e sel circunda. Dala gibosita sua nasce la uena chilis
laquale porta el sangue al core de laquale habiamo gia dicto. E da la
parte sua concaua ne nasce unaltra chiamata porta o uero uena concaua
e questa uena ha cinque rami: cusi como sono cinque penule del figato
ne le quale entrano quisti cinque rami. E poi quando escono fuora del
figato sono da poi otto de lequale doe sono molte picole che male se
possono discernere ma si le altre sei: De lequale una ua ala dextra
parte del stomaco a nutrire la tunicha sua exteriore et maxime la
parte inferiore: Laltra uena ua a la milza et e asai grande de laquale
nel mezo del [folio 32 verso] suo transito nasce un ramo che descende
gioso a nutrire lintriglio e portali el sangue piu aquoso: Da poi
quando questa uena sa proxima a la milza nasce un altro ramo el quale
ua a nutrire la parte sinistra inferiore del stomaco da poi sucede piu
oltra e uasene ala concauita de la milza et iue se diuide in doi rami
cio e inferiore e superiore: linferiore ramo descende gioso a nutrire
el girbo quanto ala parte sua sinistra: el ramo superiore passa per
le concauita de la milza e diuidise in doi altri rami di liquali uno
ua a nutrire la parte superiore sinistra del stomaco, Laltro ua circa
la bocha superiore del stomaco a portarli lhumore melenconicho per
incitare lo apetito: Laltro ramo che rimane ua a la milza anutricarla.

La terza uena di queste sei sene ua al lato stancho e uaseno alo
intestino recto a sucare se qualche humidita uiuatiua fusse rimasta ne
le feze.

La quarta uena se ne ua a la superiore parte dritta del stomaco per
nutrirla: La quinta uæna ha doe parte una ua a nutrire la dritta parte
del girbo, laltra parte se ne ua alo intestino colon a sucare quello
che e rimasto ne le feze de humidita et anche a nutrirlo: et impero el
girbo molto se congionge cum lo intestino colon ne la parte dritta: La
sexta uena sene ua alo intestine ieiuno et a lialtri intestini suttili
a sucarli e nutrirli.

La figura del figato debba [folio 33 recto] essere lunare in modo de
una luna quando e piu che meza. Questo membro ha quatro uirtu una
atratiua per la quale atrahe el chilo a se: La seconda retentiua per
laquale lo ritiene debito tempo acio che la terza uirtu che e digestiua
lo conuerta in sangue: La quarta uirtu e expulsiua per laquale manda el
sangue a tuti i membri a nutricarli: et cum esso sangue manda anche el
spirito nutritiuo el quale se genera in esso figato.


_Capitulum quartum. Tractatus tertii de anothomia chistis fellis._

El fele si ha uno uase como una cista doue se contiene lhumore
collerico et e apicata a la meza penula del figato acio che depuri
el sangue da lhumore collerico: e fu situate nel concauo e non nel
gibo acio che piu facilmente potesse mandare la colera aglintestini a
incitare la uirtu expulsiua che mandi fuora le feze.

Et ha doe parte cio e el collo che porta la collera e la uesica chela
contiene: El collo a certa distantia rimane uno: E dapoi se diuide
in doi rami uno ua amezo del figato ad attrahere la collera da esso.
Laltro ramo descende alo intestino duodeno et questo se diuide anche in
doi altri rami uno ua al fondo del stomaco a confortare la digestione
e questo ramo e picolo per che non bisognaua [folio 33 verso] andare
tropo collera al stomaco per non incitare tropo la uirtu expulsiua
del stomaco ad expellere, ma solo a confortare como e stato dicto: Et
impero quilli che hano questo rame molto grande sono chiamati da medici
infelici impero che sempre & al continuo regurgita su al stomaco la
collera:

E per questo appare che questo membro ha colligantia cum el stomaco,
intestini e figato e chel se nutrisse per certe uene et artharie che
uadeno ad esso cio e a la sua concauita: et anche peruengono a lui
alcuni nerui a darli el sentimento: Onde ha anche colligantia cum el
core e cum el cerebro.

Questo membro si e di figura oblonga cum una certa rotondita e la sua
substantia e pelliculare cio e in modo de una pellicula facta per le
utilita sopradicte.


_Capitulum quintum de anothomia splenis et de eius uiuamentis._

Dal lato stanco sotto le coste mendose li e la milza laquale cum el suo
concauo al lato del stomaco stanco se glie apozia: E quanto ala parte
sua gibosa e alligata ala Schina et al panniculo dicto siphae mediante
alcuni panniculi sutili.

Et non fu posta cusi insu o uero in luocho alto como el figato ma piu
ingioso: Et e di figura quadrangulare per che ha areimpire la concauita
sinistra circumstante del stomaco che e di tale figura: ma e piu grossa
ne la parte disopra et e piu sutile ne la parte inferiore a modo de una
lingua.

E questo [folio 34 recto] membro e composto de una certe carne
spongiosa acio che meglio receua lhumore grosso melenconico alquale
finalmente e ordinata, Et anche e composta di uene et artharie molte, &
de uno paniculo che linuolge. Onde appare che la milza ha colligantia
cum el figato, lintriglio, girbo, & cum el stomaco, cum le coste e
cum el diafragma, et ha anche colligantia cum el core mediante certe
artharie che uengono ad esse acio chel sangue grosso melenconico per el
calore di queste artharie se suttigliasse e digerisse: Et anche acio
che riscaldasse la sinistra parte del stomaco a laquale lui se apogia.

Fu facto questo membro per molte utilita: Prima acio chel mondificasse
el sangue da lhumore melenconico el quale atrahe asi: Secondo fu facto
a contra operare ala calidita del core e del figato: Tertio acio che
excitasse lo appetito transmitendo lhumore melenconico a la bocha de
esso stomaco.


_Capitulum sextum de anothomia girbi siue, rethis cooperientis stomacum
& intestina._

Appare uno certo panniculo chiamato el Girbo o uero la rethe el quale
copre el stomaco da la parte dinanzi: e ne lhuomo tuti glintestini:
e non ne lialtri animali: E questo fu facto ne lhuomo per che tra
glialtri animali de equale quantita la uirtu digestiua piu debile
ne lhuomo: et etiam per che glintestini suoi per la suttilita de la
cute sono piu dispositi a [folio 34 verso] receuere li nocumenti
exteriori: Et impero appare la utilita di questo membro per la quale fu
principalmente facto: et e acio chel confortasse la uirtu digestiua nel
stomaco e de glintestini reuerberando el caldo naturale ad essi: Onde
narro Galieno de uno che fu uulnerato e cauato li fu el girbo e da poi
che fu guarito non potete mai ben padire.

Et impero bisogno che fusse composto di tre sustantie cio e prima de
doi panniculi subtili acio che continesse glialtri membri et etiam per
che douea essere ligiero e che se potesse dilatare: et anche fu spesso
acio che reuerberasse piu la calidita ali membri predicti: Secundo e
composto de una assungia seposa la quale hauesse ariscaldare essendo la
natura de lasongia molto propinqua al caldo: Tertio e composto di certe
artharie e uene lequale molto riscaldano.

Et per questo appare chel girbo ha colligantia cum el stomaco cum la
milza e cum glintestini, Et maxime cum lo intestino colon cum liquali
lui si termina cooperendoli: Et etia ha colligantia cum li membri da
liquali ha origine: onde nasce da uno certo panniculo carnoso da la
schina tra el diafragma per che a questo panniculo seglie terminano
do extremita del panniculo chiamato siphac del quale poi noi diremo:
Lequale extremita compogono el girbo: Et etiam per che iue glie una
uena grande et etiam artharia [folio 35 recto] de lequale apresso el
stomaco nascono certe uene et artharie picole lequale componeno el
girbo: Ha etiam colligantia cum lintriglio dal quale nasce la sua
songia seposa laquale reimpie le sue uacuita.

Per insino adoncha qui habiamo ueduto la anothomia del girbo, del
stomaco, de glintestini, de lintriglio, del figato, del fele, e de la
milza andiamo mo a glialtri membri di questa terza casa.


_Capitulum septimum de anothomia membrorum urine scilicet renum &
uesice et aliorum membrorum deseruentium eis._

Vediamo la anothomia dele rene. Onde tu uederai che da la uena chilis
che nasce dal gibo del figato se fa uno ramo grande che descende gioso
a le parte inferiore, e quando questo ramo e indritto de lerene se
diuide in doi altri rami di liquali uno ua al rognone dritto e laltro
al rognone stanco cio e a le sue concauita e chiamase uene emulgente:
E gliorificii di queste doe uene non sono indritto uno dilaltro ma uno
piu elto et e quello del rognone dritto e laltro piu basso cio e quello
che ua al rognone stanco: Et questo fu perche el rognone dritto si e
piu de sopra per che el rognone dritto e piu caldo cha el stanco, e de
natura del caldo e distare disopra benche a le uolte acada chel rognone
stanco sia disopra al dritto et alhora el rognone stanco uira essere
piu caldo che el dritto: ben che questo sia [folio 35 verso] rare uolte.

Queste uene deportano la aquosita del sangue che e inutile al
nutrimento del corpo a le rene et consequenter ala uesica: laquale
esce poi fuora per urina: E per che cum questa aquosita e mescolato
anche del sangue impero bisogno fare a la natura che el se colasse ne
le rene in modo chel sangue mescolato cum questa aquosita rimanesse,
e laquosita sola pasasse ala uesica: et impero se tu scindi el rogne
ne la parte gibosa per lo longo per insino ala concauita tu uederai
uno panniculo como uno panno raro per el quale puo passare la aquosita
ma el sangue non impero quilli che hano aperto questo panniculo o
uero colatorio orinano sangue. E questo panniculo si genera da la
uena emulgente dicta laquale intrando ne la concauita del rognone se
rariffica in modo de uno colatorio.

E bisognorno essere dui rognoni e non uno per che era molta quantita
daquosita laquale uno solo rognone non haueria potuto atrahere sel non
fusse stato molto grande e non se seria posuto debitamente situare sel
non hauesse facto qualche eminentia in quello luoco che seria stato
molte deforme.

Quisti rognoni sono picoli in comparatione de li altri membri interiori
e sono de una figura alquanto rotonda acio che fusseno capaci di
magiore quantita, et etiam che fusse piu tuto da li nocumenti
extrinseci: E furno etiam alquanto longhi acio che li suoi oreficii
cio e el superiore, doue entra [folio 36 recto] laquosita e loreficio
inferiore doue esce haueseno megliore distintione: a loreficio di sotto
segli continua uno porro chiamato Uritides cioe che porta la urina
da le rene a la uesica: Onde sono dui porri uritides como sono doi
rognoni: Et in quisti rognoni ale uolte se genera la preda de molte
harenule per la calidita de le rene la quale desicca certa humidita
fleumaticha laquale se genera nel stomaco per indigestione, e poi sene
ua al figato, et tandem se ne uiene ale rene, et iue per la calidita
de esse rene se conuerte in harenule et tandem se conuerte in preda:
laquale poi si discerne dala preda generata ne la uesica per che la
preda de le rene e rossa e quella de la uesica e biancha. Li homini
adoncha che hano fredo el stomaco e calde le rene sono disposti ala
generatione de la preda et maxime hauendo li meati de lurina stricti.

Leuate adoncha le rene e ueduti i porri uritides tu uederai che
terminano al mezo de la uesicha e non forano la uesicha ex directo cum
uno bucho grande ma cum piu busitti picoli et obliqui facti tra una
tunica e laltra de la uesica o uero tra el cooptorio e la tunica e non
uno indritto de laltro, e questo fu acio che quando la uesica fusse
piena de urina ritornasse la urina indrieto ale rene, anzi quanto la
uesica e piu piena de urina tanto piu se chiudeno dicti buchi.

La uesica e composta de doe tuniche quanto al suo fundo ma quanto
al [folio 36 verso] suo collo e composta de carne e musculo. Item e
composta de nerui e de uene e de artharie ad atrahere laquosita dale
rene et consequenter ad expellerla fuora per la uena.

E per questo appare che tuti quisti membri dicti cioe uene emulgente
rognoni porri uritides e la uesica sono facti de la natura a
mondificare el sangue che de nutrire el corpo de la predicta aquosita e
mandarla fuora per urina.

Et impero li rognoni furno de sustantia _e_ carne dura acio non fusse
mordicata et corrosa de lacuita de lurina e da alcuni humori acuti che
molte uolte se mescola cum essa urina.

Questi rognoni hebbeno dui paniculi uno che li copre e questo li da el
sentimento, e laltro chel liga e suspende a la schina et anche questo
li da el sentire: e ciascuno di questi doi panniculi e composto de uno
certo neruo che nasce da la nucha de li spondili de la schina in luocho
chiamato alchatim che e luocho a lo indritto de le rene et etiam e
composto de uno certo ligamento che nasce da quilli medesimi spondili.

E per questo appare che hano colligantia cum el cerebro e la nucha
et cum la schina mediante li nerui di li predicti panniculi, et
hanno colligantia cum el core mediante certe artharie che nascono da
lartharia adorthi e cum el figato mediante le uene emulgente, e [folio
37 recto] cum la uesica mediante li porri uritide liquali sono certi
canili stricti per liquali passa la aquosita urinale da le rene a la
uesica como e stato dicto. E questa uesica ha una grande concauita
laquale e neruosa et el suo collo e carnoso e musculoso acio che quando
bisogna lhuomo expella la urina e quando bisogna lui la ritengha et
congiongese el collo de la uesica cum la uirga ne li maschii, nel quale
collo insieme cum la uirga e uno bucho per loquale se urina: ma ne le
femine lextrimita del collo de lauesica se termina apresso a dua dita
al oreficio de uulua: et el collo de la uesica ne li maschii e piu
longo che ne le done.

E per questo appare che sel se incide la uesica nel collo se puo
consolidare ma se si taglia nel fondo non si puo saldare, per che el
collo e musculoso e carnoso, et el fonde da la uesica e neruoso.

Et el collo de la uesica ne li homini ha tre tortuosita, ne le quale
se ritiene lurina acio che facilmente non esca fuori senza uolunta
de lhuomo ma ne le femine non ha sino una tortuosita, et el collo ne
le femine e piu largo che ne li maschii: Et el fondo de la uesica e
composto de doe tuniche como e stato dicto, e la tunica interiore e doe
uolte piu grossa che la exteriore per che inmediate tocha la urina.

A la uesica peruengono nerui da la nucha et anche le uene da la uena
chilis et etiam certe artharie da la artharia adhorthi. Et nel collo
suo e solo uno [folio 37 verso] musculo che circunda esso collo del
quale la utilita e a retinere la urina secondo el bisogno e la uolunta
de lhuomo. E quando lhuomo uole urinare se relassa quello musculo: et
alhora li musculi del uentre de liquali diremo constringeno la uesica e
mediante la uirtu expulsiua mandano fuora lurina.


_Tractatus quartus de anothomia membrorum generationis capitulum
primum, de anothomia matricis et uasorum spermaticorum in mulieribus._

Veduto la anothomia de tri membri principali e signori li quali cum
li soi ministri sono producti da la natura a conseruare lo indiuiduo
poniamo adesso la anothomia del quarto membro principale el quale e
facto a conseruare la spetie. Et benche anche noi non habiamo fornito
la anothomia del domicilio del terzo membro principale per che in uno
medesimo domicilio quasi sono locati dicti membri cum li suoi ministri.
Diciamo adoncha che i membri de la generatione in alcune cose conuenene
ne li maschii e ne le femine: prima quanto a la origine per nascono
circa le rene in questo modo che li uasi che sono ne la parte sinistra
e li uasi che sono ne la parte dritta nascono desopra de le rene, cio e
le loro uene da la uena chilis e le lore artharie da lartharia adorthi.
Onde appare per questo che li uasi spermatici ne li maschii e ne le
femine sono decusi da el core e da el figato e questa e la seconda
conuenientia.

Ma etiam sono differenti per che ne le femine questi uasi se terminano
a la matrice [fol. 38 recto] nel luocho exteriore doue sono li loro te
testiculo anzi propriamente parlando non sono ueramente testiculi como
ne gli maschii anzi sono como testiculi de lepore. Onde fuora de la
matrice se riuolgono e se contexeno e le concauita diquella texitura se
reimpiseno di certe carne minute glandose: E sono facti ne le femine
acio che generino una certa humidita saliuale laquale e cagione de la
delectatione de cohito ne la femina.

Da poi quisti uasi spermatici penetrano la matrice per insino a la
concauita e li suoi oreficii di quisti uasi ne la concauita de la
matrice se chiamano cotilidoni cio e legamenti per che mediante quilli
sta ligata la creatura ala matrice: e per questi oreficii uene el
sangue mestruo ala femina: Et alcuni di questi uasi peruengono a la
bocha de la matrice a portar li la humidita saliuale gia dicto: Et
da queste uene ramificate nascono doe uene da ciascun lato cio e una
che penetra nel panniculo chiamato mirach et ascendeno per insina che
peruengono ale mamille a deportare el sangue a quelle: Et nota che
quanto piu ascendeno tanto piu se acostano a la cute di fuora: et sono
piu manifeste: ma nel mirach sono piu oculte e questo e contrario ne
la porcha o altri animali che hano le mamille nel mirach: Queste uene
nascono da la matrice e se manifestano nel mirach doue sono poste le
mamille.

E dapoi queste uene ascende dal [folio 38 verso] profondo del pecto
indrito al pomo granato una certe uena laquale uene ale mamille a
cuocere el sangue che se de conuertire in lacto e non appare senon una
uena.

El luocho de la matrice e che le situata ne la concauita del luocho
chiamato alchatim, laquale concauita e circundata da certi spondili
dela schina per insino a la cauda da la parte de drieto, ma da la
parte dinanzi e circundata da la parte che se chiama petenechio: onde
la matrice e locata inmediate tra lo intestino recto el quale e como
colcitra sua da la parte posteriore e fra la uesica da la parte dinanzi
et el collo de la uesica e piu eminente cha el collo de la matrice
benche la concauita de la matrice sia piu profonda che la concauita de
la uesica: et la matrice e posta nel mezo preciso tra el lato dritto e
el stanco.

Questa matrice ha colligantia quasi cum tuti li membri superi cio cum
el core mediante certe artharie e cum el figato mediante certe uene, e
cum el cerebro mediante molti nerui, e cum el stomaco mediante nerui e
uene: et ha colligantia cum li membri di mezo cio e cum el diafragma
le rene, et mirach: per che mediante quisti e alligata ali predicti
ha maxime colligantia cum le mamille como e stato dicto: Ha etiam
colligantia cum li membri inferiori cio e cum la uesica mediante el suo
collo: et e similiter cum lo intestino colon.

Et e alligata a le [folio 39 recto] anche mediante alcuni ligamenti
grossi e forti li quali apresso de la matrice sono larghi e grossi
et apresso le anche sono suttili como corne che sono nel capo de
glianimali et impero sono chiamati corni de la matrice.

La figura sua e quadrangulare cum certa rotondita: et ha el collo
inferiore longo et hebbe questa figura acio che meglio se potesseno
distinguere le cellule o uero camerette che sono ne la sua concauita e
sono septe tre ne la parte dritta e tre ne la parte stancha e una ne la
sumita o uero mezo e queste celule sono certe concauita ne la matrice
ne lequale el sperma cum el sangue mestruo se possano continere et
coagulare et consequenter alligarsi a li oreficii de le uene.

La quantita de la matrice fu mediocre secondo la quantita de la uesica,
ma e magiore in una femina che in laltra per che la femina che fa
figlioli ha magiore matrice che la sterile et similiter la femina che
e usa al cohito lha magiore che la uergene et similiter la matrice de
la giouene e magiore che quella de la puta e de la uechia e per altre
cagione narrate da medici puo essere questa diuersita.

La sua sustantia e neruosa e pelliculosa acio che se possa dillatare a
continere la creatura: et e molto spessa e grossa.

Le parte exteriore de la matrice sono queste cio e li lati difuori
aliquali sono alligati li testiculi e anche sono li uasi seminarii e
[folio 39 verso] le sue corne di liquali tuti habiamo dicto: et el suo
collo del quale lextremita se chiama uulua: e questo collo e longo
quanto e uno palmo como e la uirga de lhuomo et e lato e dillatabile:
et impero pelliculoso: Et ha le rughe o uero crespe in modo de sangue
sughe acio che la uirga de lhuomo nela confricatione del cohito se le
induca tintalatione e consequenter dolceza: Et ne lextremita di questa
uulua sono doe pellicole che se lieuano e deprimeno sopra el dicto
oreficio acio che prohibiscano lo introito de laiere o di qualche cosa
extrinsecha nel collo de la matrice o uero uesica como la uirga de
lhuomo e custodita da la pellicula del preputio.

E la bocha de la matrice e molto neruosa facta in modo de una bocha de
uno cagnolo nouamente nato o uero meglio a modo de una tench uechia: et
e ualata de uno uele suttile ne le uergene e ne le uiolate se rompe et
impero se sanguina.

Facto e adoncha questo membro da la natura per la conceptione: et ne
lhomo fu facto anche acio che mondificasse tuto el corpo de la femina
dal superfluo sangue indigesto el quale se genera in essa per la sua
frigidita, e nel maschio non e cusi: ma li altri animali non hano
questo fluxo mestruale per che tale superfluita che se genera in loro
se conuerte in pelle in pili in unghie in rostri e penne e simili
membri di quali lhuomo e priuato.


[folio 40 recto] _Capitulum secundum de anothomia uasorum spermaticorum
et testiculorum in viris seu masculis._

Dicto di uasi spermatici e testiculi de le femine diciamo di quilli
di li maschii: Onde e da sapere che li uasi spermatici sono de doe
manerie, alcuni sono uasi che preparano el sperma e quisti descendeno
da luochi predicti ali testiculi & circa la parte superiore de essi se
inuolgeno intanto che fano in modo de uno sacho o uero de una bursa e
questi non intrano la sustantia dili testiculi e questi sono uenosi e
neruosi.

Alcuni altri uasi sono dilatorii liquali portano el sperma preparato
ne li altri uasi dicti a li testiculi e questi se continuano cum li
predicti et sono piu neruosi: e quanto uano piu ascendendo da li
testiculi sono tanto piu neruosi et ascendeno per insino a losso del
petenechio: et alhora se profondano dentro apresso el collo de la
uesica e finaliter procedeno al meato de la uirga nel luocho che e nel
bucho de losso del petenechio e per doe meati che sono iue mandano el
sperma fora da li testiculi el quale fu preparato prima negli altri
uasi e mandano quello sperma nel canale de la uirga e poi la uirga el
manda fuori.

Et li testiculi ne lhuomo maschio sono di fuora e non detro como e ne
le femine onde li uasi spermatici del maschio non sono terminati dentro
dal mirach o uero dentro dal corpo ma escono fuora e se copulano a li
[folio 40 verso] testiculi como a doi suspensorii o uero contrapeso,
Et quisti uasi sono cooperti & uelati de uno panniculo chiamato
didimo el quale nasce del paniculo siphach del quale poi noi diremo,
e questo didimo se ha uno oreficio chiuso ne la fine de dicti uasi
et in processo se dillata e tanto procede dilatandosi che infine di
quello se dillatta ala quantita de li testiculi et iue fa una bursa la
quale se chiama borsa di testiculi: onde appare che questo didimo fu
facto a continere o custodire li testiculi: et li uasi spermatici che
peruengono ad essi.

Et in questa borsa glie sono posti doi testiculi facti de sustantia
glandosa rotondi facti secondo li medici a generare e produre el
sperma per che benche el sia preparato ne li uasi spermatici tamen
non recceue in essi la debita forma specifica ma da li testiculi. Et
secondo el philosopho Aristotile el sperma perfectamente se produce ne
li uasi spermatici e che li testiculi furno facti como doi contrapesi a
retinere i uasi aper ne la proiectione del sperma.


_Capitulum tertium de anothomia uirgae et de musculis ani: & de quinque
uenis emoroydalibus._

Ultimo e la uirga continuata cum lo collo de la uesica carnoso e e
continuata cum esso cum molti ligamenti e corde lequale nascono da
losso del petenechio insieme cum certi nerui [folio 41 recto] che
nascono da la nucha: et impero questo membro e molto sensibile et
extensible; Et anche e continuata la uirga cum gran uene che nascono
dal ramo de la uena che descende ale parte inferiore et similiter e
continuata cum grande artharie lequale nascono da quella artharia
laquale se bifurcha ale doe anche: onde a la lingua et ala uirga
uengono magiore uene et arthariae che a nesuno altro membro a tanto
pertanto: Et impero queste uene & artharie nel luocho chiamato
peritoneon cio e tra loreficio del culo et el luocho di testiculi sono
inuolute e sono molto grande: et iue e el principio de la uirga: Et per
questo la uirga e tuta cauernosa e le sue cauernosita se reimpino de
uentuosita laquale se genera in quelle artharie et alhora se driza la
uirga: Onde se tu scindi per lo longo la uirga insino al suo canale et
apparerano dui buchi predicti et etiam le sue cauernosita.

La quantita de la uirga o uero longheza sie duno palmo como e quello
del collo de la matrice.

La sustantia de la uirga sie neruosa excepto la extremita sua che se
chiama preputio.

Da poi a lextremita delo intestino recto chiamato anus tu trouerai
certi musculi che apreno & asera o quello oreficio et similiter ne
lextremita del dicto oreficio li sono cinque uene terminato ad esso
chiamate uene [folio 41 verso] emoroydale per lequale in alcuni homini
a certi tempi esce di molto sangue.


_Capitulum quartum de anothomia mirach: quod est domicilium predictorum
duorum membrorum principalium._

Dapoi che noi habiamo ueduto de doi membri principali uno che serue al
nutrimento di li membri a conseruare el corpo e laltro a conseruare la
spetie: et anche de li suoi ministri resta a uedere del suo domicilio
el quale e comune a tuti quilli el quale se chiama mirach.

Questo mirach o uero questo domicilio si e composto de cinque parte cio
e cute pinguedine uno certo panniculo carnoso e certi musculi cum le
sue corde et el siphac: de tute queste cinque parte se constituisse uno
cooperculo et una casa ne laquale se contengono li membri predicti.

E questo tale domicilio fu posto di sotto da li altri per la ignobilita
di membri che se contengono in esso: Onde contiene alcuni membri
deputati a purgare le feçe e le superfluita lequale essende graue
descendeno a le parte inferiore.

Questo domicilio non potette essere ossuoso ma fu carnoso et
pelliculoso acio che secondo li bisogni se potesse dillatare et
intumescere como ne la femina pregnante o uero in colui che ha
pigliato troppo cibo o uero ne lo ydropico o per qualche altra cagione
bisognasse infiare el uentre, sel fusse ossuoso non se potria fare
questo.

[folio 42 recto] La prima parte di questo mirach si e la cute de fuora
circa laquale sono da considerare piu luochi: Uno si e corespondente
ala bocha del stomaco che una cartiligine che copre quello e chiamasi
pomo granato como e stato dicto.

Laltro luocho si e la parte che e sopra el stomaco sopra de lombelico
circa a quatro dita.

El terzo luocho si e la parte umbelicale cio e doue e lombellico cum
el quale sta alligata la creatura nela matrice cum le uene de essa
matrice: et impero ne le parte interiore de lombelico appare una certa
uena che se continua cum esso, et passa per el gibo del figato e per
questa uena se porta el sangue da le uene de la matrice al figato de la
creatura et inquesto modo se nutrisse nel uentre de la matre: Ma questa
uena quando lhuomo e nato se priua di sangue per che mancha la sua
operatione quale facea alhora: Et impero continuamente se ua diminuendo
quella uena, onde ne li uechii appare molte minore che ne li gioueni:
Et similiter cum questa uena descende una certa artharia a lombelico
de la creatura laquale quando e ne lombelico descende gioso e uasene
a lartharia adorthi apresso li spondili de le rene et di li fianchi e
questa artharia simelmente se ua deleguando e continue appare minore
como e stato dicto de la predicta uena. E questa artharia tu uederai
exscarnando apresso lombelico et apparerati in forma de uno neruo o
de una corda [folio 42 verso]. El quarto luocho se chiama sumen, di
sotto da lo imbilico quatro dita et e una parte ne laquale se terminano
alcune uene ala cute per le quale la creatura nel uentre de la matre
manda fuora le sue aquosita: e queste uene e questa tale parte si e
piu manifesta ne li puti che non sono nati che ne li perfecti perche
essendo queste uene frustrate da la sua operatione se uadeno anullande.

El quinto luocho si e el petenechio doue sono li membri genitali.

Da poi anche tu hai a considerare le parte laterale cioe li li fianchi
e li ypocondrii uno da la parte dritto sotto el quale sta el figato e
laltro da la parte mancho doue e locata la milza.

Dapoi la cute apparerati incontinenti la pinguedine la quale e molto
piu grande nel porcho che ne lhuomo.

Dapoi et tertio te apparera uno panniculo el quale e composto de carne
e nerui.

Quarto di sotto a questo panniculo li sono etiam octo musculi di
liquali doi sono longitudinali che protendeno per el longo dal clipeo
de la bocha del stomaco insino a lossa del petenechio, e quisti musculi
non hano gran corde senon ligamentale, Quatro altri sono transuersali
dui superiori e dui inferiori: Li superiori nascono da le parte di
sopra a presso le coste et terminano a certe corde circa le ossa
del petenechio inquesto modo che la corda [folio 43 recto] dritta
ua alingioso al musculo che uiene da la parte sinistra, et la corda
stancha ua gioso al musculo che uiene da la parte dritta: Onde le corde
se incrociano ne la parte inferiore. Li altri dui musculi transuersali
sono inferiori per che comentiano da le ossa del petenechio et de le
anche e se terminano a certe corde in questo medesimo modo che la corda
dritta ua al musculo sinistro e la sinistra ua al musculo dritto, e le
corde se incrociano como e stato dicto.

Doi altri sono latitudinali cusi dicti per che li fili di liquali se
componeno protendendeno secondo el lato: Et uno di quisti musculi e dal
lato dritto e laltro del lato stancho, e sono piu manifesti et anche
la sua origine apresso de la schina uerso la parte superiore: e quisti
musculi latitudinali insieme cum li longitudinali se intersecano ne li
anguli dritti.

La utilita di quisti musculi sie prima acio che deffendeseno li membri
interiori da li nocumenti extrinseci, et anche che li riscaldaseno
reuerberando la loro calidita a le parte dentro. La seconda e acio che
aiutino ad expellere le superfluita dal pecto e le superfluita dele
feze et etiam ad expellere la creatura fuora, e queste sono utilita
comune a quisti octo musculi: Ma piu particularmente parlando Li
musculi [folio 43 verso] longitudinali sono facti primo ad atrahere,
secondo ad expellere, onde expelleno contrahendo li suoi uili liquali
contratti comprimeno glintestini uerso el diafragma como se fosseno tra
doe mane che li comprimeseno e per questo modo expelleno fuora le feze:
Et per che glintestini hano bisogno maxime di queste doe operatione cio
e de atrahere et expellere impero quisti musculi furno grandi.

Ma li musculi latitudinali sono solo facti ad expellere: & impero
sono piu apresso glintestini et fano questa expulsione comprimendo la
parte da laquale deno expellere: Et per che la expulsione se fa da
suso ingioso impero furno locati piu tosto ne le parte superiore che
inferiore.

Li transuersali furno facti a retinere e questo fano mediante li
suoi uili transuersali, E questo bisogno fare la natura acio che
le superfluita gio descese non reascendeseno impero fece li dui
transuersali superiori et anche hebbe intentione che le feçe non
descendeseno molto ueloce mente anzi se retignisseno tanto che el
figato le potesse bene esuccarle como e stato dicto impero fece
altri du imusculi transuersali inferiori: liquali sono minori che li
superiori per che magiore fu intentione de la natura a fare che le feze
non reascendeseno cha che uelocemente non descendeseno.

La quinta parte de questo mirach [folio 44 recto] si e uno panniculo
suttilissimo e molto duro chiamato siphac et fu facto acio chel
prohibisse che li musculi dicti non comprimeseno i membri naturali
e per questo fu neruoso acio che se possa dillatere e constringere
quando quilli membri se dillateno e se constringeno. E fu sutile acio
che quello non li agrauasse. Et fu duro acio che facilmente el non se
rompesse per che quando se rompe accade quella passione che si chiama
crepatura.

E fu facto etiam questo panniculo acio che el lighe glintestini a la
schina et acio che tuti li panniculi de li altri membri interiori
che se contengono in esso habiano origine da quello: Et etiam acio
chel prohibisca che glintestini non se rompano quando se infiano de
uentosita, e perquesto appare la anothomia de tuto el mirach el quale e
domicilio de tuti li altri membri gia dicti.


_Tractatus quintus de anothomia partium extremarum & ossium Capitulum
primum de anothomia ossium et neruorum quae sunt a collo usque ad
caudam._

Expediti li quatro membri principali cum li loro ministri e cum li loro
domicilii. Vediamo mo la anothomia de le parte extreme cio e braza cum
le mano, et de le cosse cum li piedi ma prima uederemo de le ossa nerui
e nucha comentiando dal collo per infino a la cauda.

Diciamo adonca che el collo fu facto per el pulmone e per la sua cana
ne li animali che respirano: et inquesto collo sono septe [folio
44 verso] ossa chiamati spondili, et sono piu suttili de glialtri
inferiori per che sono sustentati da quilli: Et benche siano suttili
pur sono molto duri e firmamente congionti acio che non si dislacaseno,
et anche che non receuesseno nocumento da le cose extrinsece. Et quisti
spondili benche siano piu suttili de li altri pur hano el bucho magiore
per che la nucha e piu grossa nel collo che in alcuna pare di li altri
spondili e questo fu per che iue ha la sua origine.

Dapoi quisti septe spondili li sono altri spondili che se chiamano
spondili de le coste e sono dodece secondo el numero de le coste de
lequale septe sono uere e cinque mendose.

Da poi sono li spondili de le rene liquali sono cinque, e sono molto
grossi e grandi per che sono fondamento e sustentaculo de li altri
spondili.

Da poi sono alcuni altri spondili liquali sono ne plichatura che e
da la schina a la cauda e sono tri minori di li predicti per che se
doueano congiongere cum li spondili de la cauda liquali sono picoli.

Ultimo sono li spondili de la cauda et quiui sono molte differentie de
buchi per liquali passano li nerui, e queste tale diuersitade se uedeno
meglio nel corpo cotto o uero perfectamente esiccato.

Et in ciascuno spondile e posta la nucha la quale e una medula simile
ala substantia del cerebro senon che e piu uiscosa e piu salda et ha
[folio 45 recto] origine da esso cerebro, el quale essendo diuise in
doe parte cio e ne la parte dritta e ne la parte mancha impero ne la
superficie di questa nucha appare uno filo che la diuide per mezo cio e
la parte dritta da la parte stancha: E fu facta da la natura acio desse
el sentire e el mouere a tuto el corpo dal capo ingio onde la nucha e
ditta uicaria del cerebro.

Da la nucha in ciascaduno spondile nasce uno pare de nerui che uanno
a dare el sentire e el mouere a certi e uarii membri. E per che li
spondili sono intuto trenta impero sono trenta para de nerui secondo
el numero di li spondili: et poi dala cauda ne nasce un altro pare de
nerui onde sono intuto trentauno pare de nerui oltra quelli sei para
ditti disopra che nascono dal cerebro.


_Capitulum secundum de anothomia brachiorum et manuum._

Le braze e le mano sono composti de cute pinguedine, carne, uene,
corde, ligamenti, ossa.

Tu uederai una uena che penetra per sotto la lasina del brazo e procede
per la parte domestica e uasene ala curuatura del brazo et appare ne
la parte inferiore de gubito e chiamasi basilica e poi protende piu
oltra descendendo gioso a la mano ne la parte siluestra e uasene tra
doi digiti cio e el digito picolo chiamato auriculare et el suo proximo
digito [folio 45 verso] chiamato annulare, e chiamasi questa uena iue
sylen e coresponde ala basilica como suo ramo.

Vederai simelmente un altra uena che uiene per la parte domestica del
brazo ne la parte superiore de gubito e chiamasi cephalica per che e
uacua del capo et nasce da una uena che ascende al capo e questa uena
piu oltra procede uerso la mano e uassene ne la siluestra parte tra
e il dito grosso e lindice e chiamasi saluatella e corresponde a la
cephalica.

Un altra uena uederai ne la curuatiua del brazo in mezo de le predicte
como uno ramo continuato cum tute doe e chiamase uena media o uero uena
comune.

Da poi le uene tu uederai di molti musculi e molte corde grande e
grosse. Li musculi furno facti a dare el moto uoluntario al quale
deserueno etiam esse corde.

Dapoi tu uederai le ossa et comentiando ala spala tu uederai prima uno
osso chiamato spatula de simile figura como e una spatula de legno el
quale e largo disotto acio che non impedischa el pecto e le coste, et
e strecto di sopra acio che cum laltro osso che tu uederai chiamato
aiutorio meglio se firme: et impero ne la extremita superiore di questa
spatula glie una concauita superficiale rotonda acio che in esse sia
situata la extrimita de lo aiutorio rotonda del quale el capo primo
e rotondo locato ne la extremita de losso de la spatula poi nel mezo
se obliqua uerso la domestica parte acio che nel plicare et [folio 46
recto] amplexare de le cose sia piu habile: Et lo extremo di questo
aiutorio ha quasi doe eminentie per che se congionge cum dui ossi
chiamati focilli, et in mezo de quelle parte eminente ha piu disopra
una certa concauita ne laquale entra lextremita del focille inferiore
laquale e facta a modo de uno instrumento da trare laqua acio che sia
piu ferma la sua coniunctione et el focille inferiore e piu longo che
el superiore per che linferiore sustenta el superiore: Ma tuti dui
conuegono in questo che ne li extremi sono piu grossi che nel mezo per
che da li extremi loro nascono ligamenti e iuncture, et nel mezo glie
sono musculi che supliseno a la loro sutilita: Et el focille superiore
non procede dritamente como linferiore acio che sia cagione de plicare
la mano et el brazo.

Dapoi questi do focilli glie la resetta de la mano ne la quale sono
octo ossi in doe schiere cioe quatro per schiera: Dapoi sono le ossa
del pectine de la mano perche e facta ala forma de uno pectine e sono
quatro correspondenti a quatro digiti per che al dito grosso non
corresponde alcuno osso di questo pectine per che non e in schiera cum
li altri digiti.

Dapoi sono le ossa de li cinque digiti, et hano tre ossi per digito
che sono intuto quindice: Da poi sono le corde che uano ale iuncture
et ultimo la carne laquale e molto piu ne la parte domestica, et da li
lati ma pocha ne la parte siluestra per che plicandosi [folio 46 verso]
ne la parte domestica non recceuesse lesione per la dureza de li ossi e
che non accadesse uacuita alcuna dai lati e da poi li sono le onghie a
coprire la cornosita che e ne lextremita de dicti digiti.


_Capitulum tertium de anothomia cossarum tibiarum et pedum._

Vediamo mo ultimamente de la anothomia de le cosse, gambe e piedi.
Diciamo adoncha che scorticando le cosse tu trouerai doe uene grande
che sono ramificate dal troncho de la uena chilis che descende gioso el
quale quando e nel fine de li spondili dele rene se diuide in doi rami
uno ua ala gamba dritta e laltro ala stancha et similiter se ramifica
el troncho de lartharia adorthi che descende: e ciascuno di quisti doi
rami in ciascuna gamba se diuide in doi altri rami uno descende per el
dritto e per la domestica parte de la gamba et chiamas Saphena per che
flobotomata e uacua dai membri naturali e genitali et appare questa
uena sopra del genochio e sopra la cauichia del piede, e desotto nel
calchagno et appare anche nel pectine del pede.

Un altro ramo se obliqua et intra apresso la iunctura de la scia[219] o
del galbue[219] impero e chiamata siatica: ondo per la obliquatione che
fa circa queste iuncture flobotomata uale ne le sue passione: Et appare
questa uena intuti i predicti [folio 47 recto] luochi como e dicto de
la saphena.

Ne la parte siluestra ua escarnando e lieua su li musculi e le corde
e uederai prima losso del petenechio sopra del quale sono fabricati
li spondili de la schina et consequenter tuto el corpo ne la parte
inferiore ha una concauita ne laquale e locata la extremita rotonda
laquale extremita se chiama uertebro e nel mezo di quisti doi da la
parte dentro lie uno certo ligamento e questa iunctura di questi doi
ossi se chiama scia: et impero el dolore che uiene iui se chiama dolore
sciatico.

Dapoi tu uederai losso grande de la cossa el quale e magiore de tute
le ossa che sono nel corpo per che sustentaculo de tuto el corpo: Et
hebbe una grande concauita acio che fusse piu ligiero e che hauesse
molta merolla. Et per che potesse meglio sustentare non lo fece dritto
la natura ma ne la extremita fecelo pighato uerso la domestica parte: e
nel mezo sie plicato e conuexo.

Dapoi questo osso nela iunctura del genochio sono dui ossi dicti
focilli de la gamba ma uerso la parte dinanzi di quella iunctura glie
uno osso chiamato patella facto in modo de una patella acio che la
iunctura fusse piu forte: e questa iunctura e facta de ligamenti como
fusse ligata per uno groppo. Et el focille che e ne la parte domestica
e magiore e piu grosso per che ha piu a sustentar el peso [folio 47
verso] del corpo e quello de la parte siluestra e piu sutile e curto
facto solo chel sia apogio del magiore.

Da poi lie losso de la caichia cum el quale se congiongeno li dicti
focilli, et e losso del calcagno grosso quadrangulato sotto del quale e
una cute grossa e callosa molto.

Da poi e uno osso facto in modo de una u nauicula quadrangulare
alquanto longo.

Dapoi e la rasetta del pede composto de tri ossi e non de octo como fu
la resetta de la mano perche el pede douea stare firmo e non mouersi a
retinire qualche cosa como la mano.

Da poi li e el pectine composto da cinque ossi per che el dito grosso e
inschiera cum li altri.

Da poi sono le ossa dili digiti che sono quatuordice cioe dui al dito
grosso e tri per ciascaduno de li altri. Da poi sono certi musculi e
molte corde a mouere contrahendo e dillatando i digiti et ultimo li
sono le onghie che copreno la carnosita de li cime de li digiti como
_e_ stato dicto di digiti de le mane. E cussi a laude de dio habiamo
compiuto quello che era nostra intentione e quello che dal principio
noi prometessimo di narrare.




                      THE BLESSING OF CRAMP-RINGS

         A CHAPTER IN THE HISTORY OF THE TREATMENT OF EPILEPSY

                          by Raymond Crawfurd


The origin of this ceremony of blessing rings, by the kings and queens
of England, for the cure of epilepsy and other spasmodic disorders,
appears to be well attested by the evidence of many contemporary
records. All alike refer it back to Edward the Confessor, or, to be
more exact, to the ring which was one of the sacred relics in the
shrine of the Confessor in his abbey of Westminster. Caxton, in the
_Golden Legend_,[220] tells the tale of this wonderful ring, as follows:

    ‘When the blessed King Edward had lived many years, and was fallen
    into great age, it happened he came riding by a church in Essex
    called Havering, which was at that time in hallowing, and should
    be dedicated in the honour of our Lord and S. John the Evangelist;
    wherefore the king for great devotion lighted down and tarried,
    while the church was in hallowing. And in the time of procession,
    a fair old man came to the king and demanded of him alms in the
    worship of God and S. John the Evangelist. Then the king found
    nothing ready to give, ne his almoner was not present, but he took
    off the ring from his finger and gave it to the poor man, whom the
    poor man thanked and departed. And within certain years after, two
    pilgrims of England went into the holy land to visit holy places
    there, and as they had lost their way and were gone from their
    fellowship, and the night approached, and they sorrowed greatly as
    they that wist not whither to go, and dreaded sore to be perished
    among wild beasts; at the last they saw a fair company of men
    arrayed in white clothing, with two lights borne afore them, and
    behind them there came a fair ancient man with white hair for age.
    Then these pilgrims thought to follow the light and drew nigh.
    Then the old man asked them what they were, and of what region,
    and they answered that they were pilgrims of England, and had
    lost their fellowship and way also. Then this old man comforted
    them goodly, and brought them into a fair city where was a fair
    cenacle honestly arrayed with all manner of dainties, and when
    they had well refreshed them and rested there all night, on the
    morn this fair old man went with them, and brought them in the
    right way again. And he was glad to hear them talk of the welfare
    and holiness of their king S. Edward. And when he should depart
    from them, then he told them what he was and said: I am John the
    Evangelist, and say ye unto Edward your king that I greet him right
    well, by the token that he gave to me this ring with his own hands
    at the hallowing of my church, which ring ye shall deliver to him
    again. And say ye to him that he dispose his goods, for within
    six months he shall be in the joy of heaven with me, where he
    shall have his reward for his chastity and for his good living....
    And when he had delivered to them the ring he departed from them
    suddenly. And soon after they came home and did their message to
    the king, and delivered to him the ring, and said that S. John the
    Evangelist sent it to him.’

Shortly after this Edward departed this life, and was laid in his
abbey of Westminster, where the usual abundant harvest of miraculous
cures was enacted at his shrine. In the above story we have also the
explanation of one synonym of epilepsy, the ‘morbus sancti Iohannis’.

The further history of the ring may be gleaned from several sources,
but notably from a MS. by one Richard Sporley, a monk of the abbey,
entitled, ‘De fundacione ecclesie Westm’, dated A.D. 1450, and now in
the British Museum.[221]

St. Edward’s ring was deposited with his corpse in the tomb in A.D.
1066. He was translated at midnight of October 13, 1163, when his body
was found to be incorrupt. Abbot Lawrence took the robes from the body
and made them into three copes, and gave the ring as a sacred relic to
the Abbey:

    ‘Dompnus Laurentius quondam abbas huius loci ... sed et annulo
    eiusdem (Sancti Edwardi) quem Sancto Iohanni quondam tradidit,
    quem et ipse de paradiso remisit, elapsis annis duobus et dimidio,
    postea _in_ nocte translationis de digito regis tulit, et pro
    miraculo in loco isto custodiri iussit.’

[Illustration: From CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY MS. Ec. iii. 59

Plate XXXIX. MIRACLES AT THE TOMB OF EDWARD THE CONFESSOR

XIIIth Century]

The story of the ring is also depicted in the miniatures of a beautiful
illuminated Norman-French MS. Life of St. Edward the King, dating
from the thirteenth century, and now in the University Library at
Cambridge.[222] The single miniature reproduced here (Plate XXXIX)
shows seven blind men, restored to sight, kneeling at the shrine,
while a priest reads the _Te Deum_. At the sides of the shrine are
figures on pillars of St. John as the palmer (left), and St. Edward
with his ring (right). No cure of epilepsy, so-called cramp, is
depicted among the many miraculous cures recorded in the MS. The
earliest extant records of the use of the ring for this purpose date
from the reign of Edward II.

Anstis[223] cites the following entry from the last chapter of the
_Constitutions of the Household of Edward II_: ‘Item le Roi doit offrer
de certein le jour de grant vendredi a crouce. v _s._ queux il est
acustumez receivre devers lui a la mene le chapelein afair ent anulx
a donner pur medicine az divers gentz’: the language, however, of
the entry leaves little room to doubt that the custom was already an
established one. At his coronation, too, Edward II offered a pound of
gold wrought into a figure representing St. Edward holding a ring, and
a mark of gold, or eight ounces, worked into the figure of a pilgrim
putting forth his hand to receive the ring: and the presumption is that
this gold was to be converted into cramp-rings.

We have detailed accounts of the manner of this ceremony of hallowing
cramp-rings dating from early Tudor times, and there is sufficient
evidence in the brief notices of earlier date to show that the
ceremonial observed by the Plantagenet kings was essentially similar.
On Good Friday, when the king went to adore the cross, he used to
make an offering of money, which was redeemed by a sum of equivalent
value: the money so received was converted into rings, which were
subsequently hallowed by the king. In Tudor times the hallowing of the
rings took place on Good Friday, so that the offering of the money must
have been made at some previous time, or this part of the ritual may
have actually become obsolete. The change of custom was effected some
time between 9 Edward IV (1470-1) and 13 Henry VIII (1521-2), and was
probably therefore the work of Henry VII, who, as we know, materially
altered the kindred ceremonial of Touching for the Evil.

A MS. copy of the Orders of the King of England’s Household, 13 Henry
VIII, preserved in the Bibliothèque Nationale at Paris,[224] contains,
‘The Order of the Kynge, on Good Friday, touching the cominge to
Service, Hallowinge of the Crampe Rings, and Offeringe and Creepinge to
the Crosse’. It is quoted _in extenso_ in the Northumberland Household
Book,[225] and also by Mansell in his _Monumenta Ritualia_.[226] It
runs as follows:

    ‘First the king to come to the closett or to the chappell with the
    lords and noblemen wayting on him, without any sword to bee borne
    before him on that day, and there to tarry in his travers till
    the bishop and deane have brought forth the crucifix out of the
    vestry (the almoner reading the service of the cramp rings) layd
    upon a cushion before the high altar, and then the huishers shall
    lay a carpet before y^t for ye king to creepe to the crosse upon:
    and y^t done, there shall be a fourme set upon the carpet before
    the crucifix, and a cushion layd before it for the king to kneele
    on; and the Master of the jewell house shal be ther ready with the
    crampe rings in a basin or basins of silver: the king shall kneele
    upon the sayd cushion before the fourme, and then must the clerke
    of the closett bee ready with the booke conteyninge ye service of
    the hallowing of the said rings, and the almoner must kneel upon
    the right hand of the king, holding of the sayd booke, and when
    y^t is done the king shall rise and go to the high altar, where
    an huisher must be ready with a cushion to lay for his grace to
    kneele upon, and the greatest Lord or Lords being then present
    shall take the basin or basins with the rings and bear them after
    the king, and then deliver them to the king to offer; and this done
    the queen shall come down out of her closett or travers into the
    chappell with ladies and gentlewomen wayters on her, and creepe to
    the crosse; and that done she shall returne againe into her closett
    or travers, and then the ladies shall come downe and creepe to the
    crosse, and when they have done, the Lords and noblemen shall in
    likewise.’

Creeping to the Cross seems to have been practised in noble households
as well as in that of the king. The following entry is found in the
Northumberland Household Book[227] (_temp._ Henry VIII):

    ‘Item my Lord useth and accustometh yerely when his Lordship is at
    home to cause to be delyveride for the Offerings of my Lordis Sone
    and Heire the Lord Percy upon the said Good Friday When he crepith
    the Crosse ij_d_. Ande for every of my Yonge Maisters my Lords
    Yonger Sonnes after j_d_. to every of them for their Offerings when
    they Crepe the Cross the said Good Friday iiij_d_.’

Many of the entries in the accounts of the Plantagenet kings show
that the homage was paid to the Gneyth Cross. This cross was held in
great veneration, and, according to tradition, was made of wood from
the true Cross presented by a pilgrim to Richard Cœur de Lion: no
satisfactory explanation of its name is forthcoming. It seems to have
been transferred from place to place. Under Edward I we find it in the
royal chapel of the Priory of Plympton: under Edward II in the royal
chapel within the Tower: under Edward III in the private chapel of the
royal Manor of Clipstone, and later in the same reign in St. George’s
Chapel at Windsor, where it was in the time of Henry VII. The purpose
of the ceremony is set forth in a Proclamation of February 26, 30 Henry
VIII, now in the possession of the Society of Antiquaries: ‘On Good
Friday it shall be declared howe creepyng of the Crosse signifyeth an
humblynge of ourselfe to Christe before the Crosse, and the kyssynge of
it a memorie of our redemption made upon the Crosse.’ When Convocation,
in A.D. 1536, abolished some of the old ceremonies, on the ground that
they were superstitious, this of Creeping to the Cross was retained as
a laudable and edifying custom.

The following records, taken from the Household Books and Account Rolls
of the times, serve to establish the continuity of the ceremonial
subsequent to its first mention in the time of Edward II.

In the Eleemosyna Roll of 9 Edward III[228] occurs the following entry:

    ‘In oblacione domini Regis ad crucem de Gneythe die parasceues in
    capella sua, infra mannerium suum de Clipstone, in precium duorum
    florencium de Florencia, xiiii die Aprilis, vi_s._ viij_d._, et in
    denariis quos posuit pro dictis florenciis reassumptis pro annulis
    medicinalibus inde faciendis, eodem die, vi_s._: summa xii_s._
    viii_d._’ [For the offering of the lord King to the Gneythe Cross
    on Good Friday in his chapel, in his manor of Clipstone, to the
    value of two florins, on the 14th day of April, vi_s._ viii_d._,
    and for the pence bestowed in redemption of the said florins for
    the making of medicinal rings, on the same day, vi_s._: total
    xii_s._ viii_d._]

Again, in the Eleemosyna Roll of the following year, 10 Edward III:[229]

    ‘In oblacione domini Regis ad crucem de Gneyth in die parasceues
    apud Eltham, ̅x̅x̅i̅x̅ die Marcii, v_s._, et pro iisdem denariis
    reassumptis pro annulis inde faciendis per manus Iohannis de
    Crokeford eodem die, x_s._’

In this entry the name of the almoner is introduced, and the form of
the account is abbreviated by omitting repetition of the substituted
v_s._

And in 11 Edward III:[230]

    ‘In oblacione domini regis ad crucem de Gneyth in capella sua in
    pcħo de Wyndesore die parasceues, v_s._, et pro totidem denariis
    reassumptis pro annulis inde faciendis v_s._’

Here the sum total is omitted: the three entries, though mutually
explanatory, show how puzzling becomes a too strict economy of words.

Entries substantially the same as these may be seen in the Wardrobe
Accounts of 12-14 Edward III.[231]

One more entry from the Account Books of John de Ypres, 44 Edward III,
is perhaps worth quoting, as it seems to point definitely to the rings
being made in this instance of both gold and silver:

    ‘In oblacionibus Regis factis adorando crucem in capella sua infra
    castrum suum de Wyndesore die parasceues in pretio trium nobilium
    auri et quinque solidorum sterling xxv_s._--In denariis solutis
    pro iisdem oblacionibus reassumptis pro annulis medicinalibus inde
    faciendis, eodem die xxv.’

The offering of both gold and silver money would seem to bear out the
suggestion as to the material of the rings, as we know that in later
times both metals were used. It is, of course, arguable that the larger
sum of money indicates only a greater demand for the rings.

Richard II’s Account Books[232] show that he maintained the practice of
his grandfather. The following is from an account of the Controller of
the Wardrobe in his reign:

    ‘in dena͞r solu͞t decano capelle Regis pro eisdem oblacionibus
    reassump͞t pro anulis medicinaƚ inde faciendis, xxv_s._’

The substituted money seems to have been actually laid on the altar,
and removed thence to be made into rings: this will explain payment
being made in this case to the Dean of the Chapel Royal.

Henry IV could ill afford to dispense with any of the prerogatives of
royalty, and we find him offering 25 shillings in the chapel of the
palace of Eltham for the making of medicinal rings.[233]

It is no matter for surprise that no mention should be forthcoming of
cramp-rings in the reign of Henry V, most of which was spent beyond
the shores of England, and in the propagation rather than in the
relief of disease. A passage, however, in the literary remains of Sir
John Fortescue[234] taken from a tract entitled _Defensio Iuris Domus
Lancastriae_, now to be seen in the Cotton Collection at the British
Museum, and referable to the year A.D. 1462, seems to show that the
practice had not been allowed to lapse during his memory, which ranged
over the reigns of Henry IV, V, and VI. The translated passage runs
thus:

    ‘Many duties likewise are incumbent on the Kings of England in
    virtue of the kingly office, which are inconsistent with a woman’s
    nature, and Kings of England are endowed with certain powers by
    special grace from heaven, wherewith Queens in the same country are
    not endowed. The Kings of England at their very anointing receive
    such an infusion of grace from heaven, that by touch of their
    anointed hands they cleanse and cure those infected with a certain
    disease, that is commonly called the King’s Evil, though they be
    pronounced otherwise incurable. Epileptics too, and persons subject
    to the falling sickness, are cured by means of gold and silver
    devoutly touched and offered by the sacred anointed hands of the
    kings of England upon Good Friday, during divine service (according
    to the ancient custom of the Kings of England); as has been proved
    by frequent trial of rings, made of the said gold and silver and
    placed on the fingers of sick persons in many parts of the world.
    The gift is not bestowed on Queens, as they are not anointed on the
    hands.’

The passage also brings out the fact that the use of both gold and
silver rings had long been customary.

We have abundant evidence of the maintenance of the ceremony under
Edward IV in a number of separate entries. Thus in an Eleemosyna Roll
of 8 Edward IV is the following: ‘Pro eleemosyna in die parasceves
c. marc. et pro annulis de auro et argento pro eleemosyna Regis
eodem die.’ And in a Liber Niger Domus Regis Edwardi IV: ‘Item, to
the Kynge’s offerings to the crosse on Good Friday, out from the
counting-house for medycinable rings of gold and silver, delyvered to
the jewell house xxv_s._’ And again in a Privy Seal Account of 9 Edward
IV: ‘Item, paid for the King’s Good Fryday rings of gold and silver
xxxiii_l._ vi_s._ viii_d._’ Edward IV seems to have aimed at fortifying
himself upon the throne by a liberal use of the Royal Gift of Healing,
and I have elsewhere expressed my belief, in the absence of any written
evidence, that it was in his reign, and not in that of Henry VII,
as commonly believed, that the dole of the angel to those touched by
the King for the Evil was instituted. Cramp-rings are mentioned in
the Comptroller’s Accounts of 20 Henry VII, but the Tudors certainly
devoted their healing powers chiefly to sufferers from the Evil.

There is a passage in the _Historia Anglicana_ of Polydore Vergil,[235]
the Italian, who came to live in England in A.D. 1502, and wrote his
history during the reigns of Henry VII and VIII, which shows the nature
of the patients for whom these sacred rings were used.

    ‘Iste annulus in eodem templo (scil. Westmonasterii), multâ
    veneratione perdiu est servatus, quod salutaris esset membris
    stupentibus valeretque adversus comitialem morbum, cum tangeretur
    ab illis, qui eiusmodi tentarentur morbis. Hinc natum, ut reges
    postea Angliae consueverint in die Parasceues, multâ coeremoniâ
    sacrare annulos, quos qui induunt, hisce in morbis omnino nunquam
    sunt.’

Besides true epileptics, they were used for those who had palsied
limbs: this is interesting as suggesting the inclusion of Jacksonian
epilepsy, and perhaps hemiplegia, and the resulting contractures
in these conditions may have contributed to the confusion with
contractures from other causes, such as chronic rheumatism. We have
to bridge over in some such way the gap between their conception of
‘cramp’ and ours.

In the will of John Baret of Bury St. Edmunds,[236] dated 1463, is a
bequest to ‘my lady Walgrave’ of a ‘rowund ryng of the Kynges silver’;
and also to ‘Thomais Brews, esquiyer, my crampe ryng with blak innamel,
and a part silvir and gilt.’ And in 1535 Edmund Lee bequeaths to ‘my
nece Thwartow my gold ryng w^t a turkes, and a crampe ryng of gold w^t
all.’

There are even earlier bequests than this of healing-rings,[237]
but not specifically termed cramp-rings: they are simply spoken of
as ‘vertuosi’. Thus Thomas de Hoton, rector of Kyrkebymisperton,
in 1351, bequeathed to his chaplain ‘j. zonam de serico, j. bonam
bursam, j. firmaculum, et j. anulum vertuosum. Item, domino Thome de
Bouthum j. par de bedes de corall, j. anulum vertuosum.’ Talismanic
rings, inscribed with the names of the three Magi, Caspar, Melchior,
Balthazar, were used as preservatives from epilepsy in Plantagenet
times.

The royal cramp-rings enjoyed no monopoly in the cure of epilepsy,
as is shown by an extract from a medical treatise written in the
fourteenth century:[238]

    ‘For the Crampe. Tak and ger gedine on Gude Friday, at fyfe
    parriche kirkes, fife of the first penyes that is offerd at the
    crosse, of ilk a kirk the first penye: than tak them al and ga
    before the crosse and say V. pater nosters in the worschip of fife
    wondes, and bere thaim on the V. dais, and say ilk a day als mekyl
    on the same wyse: and then gar mak a ryng thar of with owten alay
    of other metel, and writ with in Jasper, Batasar, Altrapa, and writ
    with outen Ih’ c. nazarenus; and sithen tak it fra the goldsmyth
    upon a Fridai, and say V. pater nosters als thu did before and use
    it alway afterward.’

The ‘fife wondes’ are, of course, the five wounds of the crucified
Jesus.

A silver ring, made of five sixpences contributed by five different
bachelors, conveyed by a bachelor to the hand of a smith that was also
a bachelor, was another reputed remedy for epilepsy; and its virtue was
enhanced, if none of the bachelors knew for what purpose or to whom it
was given.[239]

In Berkshire, rings made from a piece of silver collected at the
Communion found favour, and they were more efficacious if collected
on Easter Sunday. Devonshire preferred a ring made of three nails or
screws that had been used to fasten a coffin, and that had been dug out
of a churchyard.[240]

Cramp-rings hallowed by the King of England enjoyed repute beyond the
shores of England.[241] Lord Berners, the translator of Froissart, when
ambassador to Charles V, writing to ‘my Lorde Cardinall’s grace from
Saragoza, the xxi daie of June, 1510’, says: ‘If your grace remember
me with some crampe rynges ye shall do a thynge muche looked for, and
I trust to bestow thaym well, with Godd’s grace, who evermor preserve
and encrease your moste reverent astate.’ Among various charms that
Charles V carried about with him were ‘gold rings from England against
cramp’.[242]

In A.D. 1518 we find the President of the College of Physicians lending
his patronage to the royal cramp-rings. In a letter to the Parisian
scholar, Guillaume Budé,[243] Thomas Linacre writes that he ‘has sent
him some rings consecrated by the King as a charm against Spasms’: and
on July 10, 1518, Budé replies to him from Paris that he has ‘received
his letter with the rings on July 6’, and has distributed among the
wives of his relatives and friends the eighteen rings of silver and one
of gold he received from Linacre, telling them that they were amulets
against slander and calumny.

Even the hard-headed Scot was not proof against the magnetism of the
royal rings. A letter from Dr. Thomas Magnus, Warden of Sibthorpe
College, Nottinghamshire, to Cardinal Wolsey,[244] written in A.D. 1526
says:

    ‘Pleas it your Grace to write that M. Wiat of his goodnes sent
    unto me for a present certaine cramp ringges, which I distributed
    and gave to sondery myne acquaintaunce at Edinburghe, amonges
    other to M. Adame Otterbourne, who, with oone of thayme, releved a
    mann lying in the falling sekenes, in the sight of myche people:
    sethenne which tyme many requestes have been made unto me for cramp
    ringges, at my departing there, and also sethenne my comyng from
    thennes. May it pleas your Grace therefore to show your gracious
    pleasure to the said M. Wyat, that some ringges may be kept and
    sent into Scottelande; whiche after my poore oppyniyoun shulde be a
    good dede, remembering the power and operacion of thaym is knowne
    and proved in Edinburgh, and that they be gretly required for the
    same cause both by grete personnages and other.’

When Bishop Gardiner was in Rome in A.D. 1529, Anne Boleyn wrote him
the following letter:[245]

    Master Stephyns,

    I thank you for my letter, wherein I perceive the willing and
    faithful mind that you have to do me pleasure, not doubting, but
    as much as is possible for man’s wit to imagine, you will do. I
    pray God to send you well to speed in all your matters, so that
    you would put me to the study, how to reward your high service: I
    do trust in God you shall not repent it, and that the end of this
    journey shall be more pleasant to me than your first, for that was
    but a rejoicing hope, which causing the like of it, does put me to
    the more pain, and they that are partakers with me, as you do know:
    and therefore I do trust that this hard beginning shall make the
    better ending.

    Master Stephyns, I send you here cramp-rings for you and Master
    Gregory, and Mr. Peter, praying you to distribute them as you think
    best. And have me kindly recommended to them both, as she that you
    may assure them, will be glad to do them any pleasure, which shall
    be in my power. And thus I make an end, praying God send you good
    health.

    Written at Grenwiche, the 4th day of April,

                                    By your assured friend,
                                                  Anne Boleyn.

    [To Master Stephyns this be delivered.]

Burnet[246] refers to this letter, as follows:

    ‘When he [Gardiner] went to Rome, in the year 1529, Anne Boleyn
    writ a very kind letter to him, which I have put in the Collection
    (Records No. 24). By it, the reader will clearly perceive that he
    was then in the secret of the King’s designing to marry her as
    soon as the divorce was obtained. There is another particular in
    that letter, which corrects a conjecture which I had set down in
    the beginning of the former book concerning the cramp rings that
    were blessed by King Henry, which I thought might have been done by
    him after he was declared head of the Church.[247] That part was
    printed before I saw this letter: but this letter shows they were
    used to be blessed before the separation from Rome: for Anne Boleyn
    sent them as great presents thither. This use of them had been (it
    seems) discontinued in King Edward’s time: but now, under Queen
    Mary, it was designed to be revived, and the office for it was
    written out in a fair MS. yet extant, of which I have put a copy
    in the Collection (No. 25). But the silence in the writers of that
    time makes me think it was seldom if ever practised.’

Queen Mary’s Manual, of which we shall have more to say later, seems to
have been the source from which Burnet transcribed the Office. In his
time it was in the library of R. Smith, titular Bishop of Chalcedon.

Numerous allusions in the records of the De Lisle family bear testimony
to the popularity of cramp-rings in the reign of Henry VIII.[248]
Edward Seymour, Earl of Hertford and afterwards Duke of Somerset,
writes to Lady Lisle, in 1537:

    ‘Hussey told me you were very desirous to have some cramp-rings
    against the time that you should be brought a bedd.... I send by
    the present messenger 18 cramp-rings, which you should have had
    long ago.’[249]

John Husee writes from London on April 17, 1535, to his mistress, Lady
Lisle: ‘I send you by Mr. Degory Gramefilld 59 cramp rings of silver,
that Christofer Morys giveth you, and one of gold’;[250] and again, on
May 2, 1538: ‘Cramp-rings I can get none out of the jewel-house. Mr.
Wyll^{m}s says the King had the most part of gold, but has promised me
twelve silver.’[251]

In a letter of May 13, 1536, John Husee combines denunciation of Anne
Boleyn with a promise of cramp-rings to Lady Lisle:

    ‘Madam, I think verily that if all the books and cronycles were
    totally revolved and to the uttermost proscuted and tried, which
    against wymen hath been pennyd, contryvyd, and wryten, syns Adam
    and Eve, these same were I think verily nothing in comparison with
    that which hath been done and committed by Anne the Queen.... I
    think not the contrary but she and all they shall suffre. John
    Williams hath promised me some cramp rings for your Ladyship’;[252]

and again, six days after:

    ‘Your ladyship shall receive of this berer 9 cramp-rings of silver.
    John Williams says he never had so few of gold as this year. The
    king had the most part himself: but next year he will make you
    amends.’[253]

This day, May 19, 1536, was the day of Anne Boleyn’s execution.

Margaret Mylynton, in 1516, bequeaths to ‘my dame Croche my best gown
and a kercheve, and my cramp-ring’.[254] There is nothing, however, to
show that it had received the royal benediction.

Andrew Boorde, in his _Introduction of Knowledge_, says, ‘the kynges
of Englande doth halowe every yere crampe rynges, ye which rynges
worne on ones fynger doth help them whych hath the crampe’; and again,
in his _Breviarie of Health_, published in 1547, but written during
the lifetime of Henry VIII: ‘The kynges majesty hath a great helpe in
this matter, in hallowing crampe rynges, and so given without money
or petition.’ Boorde was medical attendant to Thomas, eighth Duke of
Norfolk, Lord President of the Council and uncle of Anne Boleyn, and by
him was recommended to the notice of Henry VIII, who employed him much
in State business, but not, so far as is known, in a medical capacity.
His testimony therefore is peculiarly reliable, and shows that Henry
VIII maintained the ceremony throughout his reign, as is borne out
by the scattered references we have adduced from other contemporary
sources.

In 1547, after the death of Henry VIII, Gardiner sent a letter to
Ridley, which contains the following passage:

    ‘The late king used to bless cramp rings both of gold and silver,
    which were much esteemed everywhere, and when he was abroad they
    were often desired from him. The gift he hoped the young king
    would not neglect. He believed the invocation of the name of God
    might give such a virtue to holy water as well as to the water of
    baptism,’ and further he speaks of the rings as endued ‘by the
    special gift of curation ministered to the king of this realm’.[255]

That Edward VI did not relinquish the practice of blessing cramp-rings,
as has been supposed, and as Burnet submits, is conclusively proved
by an entry in the Household Accounts of the year 1553, before his
death. Under the heading ‘Oblations’ is 25 shillings for the redemption
of rings commonly called medicine rings, to be made of gold and
silver.[256]

It was little likely that Mary would allow a Catholic ceremonial to
lapse for want of royal patronage. In the Appendix to _Illustrations
of the manners and expences of antient times in England, in the 15th,
16th, and 17th centuries, deduced from the accompts of churchwardens
and other authentic documents, London, 1797, 4to_, printed in the same
year, is a list of the New Year’s gifts presented by Queen Mary in
1556, among which we find:

    ‘Item, deliuerid by the queins commandement--to the said Robert
    Raynes, in broken golde, to make crampe rings, etc. Item, more
    deliuerid the same time, to make cramp ringes, in broke plate of
    silu’ theise parcelles,’ &c.

[Illustration: Plate XL. QUEEN MARY TUDOR BLESSING CRAMP-RINGS

From QUEEN MARY’S MS. MANUAL fo. iv

Library of the Roman Catholic Cathedral at WESTMINSTER]

But there is further the evidence of the actual existence of Queen
Mary’s Illuminated MS. Manual, in the Library of the Roman Catholic
Cathedral of Westminster, giving the Office of the Blessing of
Cramp-rings in Latin, with rubrics in English showing it to be the
form made use of by herself. It also contains a miniature painting of
Queen Mary performing the service of consecration. The whole office is
transcribed below. A full description of the Manual will be found in
the _Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries_,[257] at a meeting of
whom it was shown and described by Sir Henry Ellis. Sparrow Simpson has
also described it in the _Journal of the Archaeological Association_,
1871. It is a ‘small quarto volume, eight and a half inches in height
by six and three-eighths in width’. Cardinal Wiseman, to whom it
formerly belonged, has written on the fly-leaf, ‘Queen Mary’s manual
for blessing cramp-rings and touching for the Evil. Bound 1850.’ The
cover is spangled with roses and fleurs-de-lis, together with the
Queen’s monogram MR. ‘The volume consists of nineteen leaves of vellum,
each surrounded with a rich border, and filled either with miniatures
or with the two offices which it comprises. Then follow four ruled
leaves and fifteen plain leaves without manuscript.... On the recto of
leaf 1 the royal arms of Philip and Mary are emblazoned, surrounded
by a garter and surmounted by a crown. A rich border containing the
rose, the fleur-de-lis, and the pomegranate, together with a shield
bearing the cross of St. George, completes the decorations of the
page.’ The red and white roses represent Queen Mary’s double title
to the throne of England as the heiress of the houses of Lancaster
and York, the fleur-de-lis her claim to the throne of France, and
the pomegranate of Granada her descent from Ferdinand and Isabella.
The Cross of St. George is derived from the shield of the Order of
the Garter. ‘On the verso of this leaf is an illumination (Plate XL)
representing the interior of a chapel with an altar furnished with
curtains, candlesticks, and crucifix. At a prayer-desk before the altar
kneels the Queen; before her is an open book, and on either side two
golden basins containing cramp-rings.’ Leaves 2 to 10 contain ‘certayn
prayo’s to be vsed by the quenes heighnes in the consecration of the
crampe ryngs’. A study of the rubrics, which are in English, suffices
‘to show the essentials for the consecration of the rings: the prayers,
the royal touch, the holy water.... The recto of leaf 11 is filled
with an illumination of the Crucifixion with St. Mary and St. John. In
the border are the instruments of the Passion--the spear, the reed and
sponge, the hammer and pincers, three nails, two scourges, and (a very
unusual addition) a centre-bit of the same form as that now in use. On
the verso of this leaf is a very interesting full-page illumination.
At a prayer-desk, on which is an open book, kneels the Queen, turning
to the right (the dexter side of the picture), wearing the head-dress
familiar to us in all her portraits. Before her kneels a sufferer,
apparently a young man, whose bare and swollen neck the Queen holds
between her two hands. Behind him, holding open the collar of the
patient’s coat, kneels the “clarke of the closett” in a cassock and
gown, and with a tonsured head. On the left of the prayer-desk stands
“the chaplen”, a bald-headed, venerable man in a long cassock, a
somewhat short surplice with full sleeves, and the “stole abowte his
neck” ordered in the rubric, reading the appointed office. The Queen
wears a brown dress cut square at the neck, white sleeves, and a lace
ruff and waist-bands. The office for the healing follows, commencing on
folio _12a_, and ending on folio _19a_.

‘The rubrics are in red ink, bright and fresh; and each page has a rich
border of scrolls, leaves, flowers, and fruit, with occasional figures
of children, &c. I enumerate the most important subjects. Folio _1b_,
David with head of Goliath, St. George and the Dragon, and a child
with a skull; folio _2b_, arms of the city of London; folio _3a_,
VERITAS TEMPORIS FILIA (the Queen’s favourite motto), with a sword and
sceptre; folios _3b_ and _4a_, large terminal figures with grapes;
folio _4a_, arms of France and England quarterly; folio _4b_, D̅NS MIHI
ADIVTOR; folios _5a_ and _b_, portcullis and rose; folios _6a_ and _b_,
PACIENTIA and PRVDĒTIA, with allegorical figures; folios _7a_ and _b_,
CHARITAS and IVSTICIA; folios _8a_ and _b_, FIDES and SPES; folios _9a_
and _b_, FORTITVDO and TEMPERANCIA.’

With the death of Mary, the ceremonial seems finally to have fallen
into disuse. There is, however, a passage in the _Historia Anglicana
Ecclesiastica_ of Nicholas Harpsfield,[258] which was written entirely
in the reign of Elizabeth, which seems to throw some doubt on the
point. The words are as follows:

    ‘Quin et annulus ille, de quo diximus, magna in Westmonasteriensi
    Londini coenobio postea reverentia reservatus, adversus comitialem
    morbum multis profuit: indeque etiam ortum, ut ad sacram
    parasceuen Reges Angliae certos annulos statis quibusdam precibus
    et caerimoniis consecrare consueverint, adversus eundem morbum
    salutares. Quae consuetudo et ad nostra usque tempora perducta
    est, multique huiusmodi annulorum beneficium, nostra etiam aetate,
    senserunt.’ [And further the above-mentioned ring was reverently
    preserved afterwards in the monastery of Westminster in London, and
    relieved many of epilepsy. That too was the origin of the custom
    of the Kings of England on Good Friday consecrating certain rings
    with set prayers and ceremonies, for the cure of the same disease.
    Which custom has persisted even down to our own times, and many
    even in our own lifetimes have derived benefit from rings of this
    kind.]

Nicholas Harpsfield, though he did not write till the reign of
Elizabeth, was born as early as A.D. 1519, so that his words are
consistent with discontinuance of the ceremony after the time of Queen
Mary.

It remains to consider what diseased states were embraced by the term
‘cramp’. Epilepsy, convulsions, and rheumatism certainly. All these
terms have in common the idea of muscular contraction or spasm, and
their relation in usage to one another may be represented graphically
as under:

    Convulsion
              \
               Cramp ═ Rheumatism.
              /
    Epilepsy

Confusion of these terms is far more marked in medical than in
lay writers; but at the same time there is little doubt that the
conservative sentiment inspired by the royal ceremonial kept the term
‘cramp’ alive in a sense that was all but obsolete in the common
diction.

Chaucer applies ‘crampe’ to muscular spasm:

    But wel he felte about his herte crepe ...
    The crampe of death, to streyne him by the herte.[259]

Linacre, as we have seen, speaks of cramp-rings, in 1518, as a charm
against _spasms_, while about the same year Polydore Vergil speaks
of the royal cramp-rings as a cure for the _morbus comitialis_. Each
of these two writers clearly indicates epilepsy. In 1526 Magnus
speaks definitely of cramp-rings as relieving a man lying in the
_falling-sickness_, a term habitually applied to epilepsy. Nicholas
Harpsfield too, writing in the middle of the reign of Elizabeth,
speaks of cramp-rings blessed by the kings as remedies for the _morbus
comitialis_. In all probability royal cramp-rings were used for
epilepsy and epilepsy only, but it is quite possible, and I am inclined
to think probable, that other cramp-rings had a less exclusive use.

Bacon’s description of cramp in his _Natural and Experimental History_
is fairly explicit and obviously does not embrace epilepsy: ‘The cramp
cometh of contraction of sinews, which is manifest, in that it comes
either by cold or dryness.’

Shakespeare recognizes both epilepsy and rheumatism as entities apart
from cramp. Epilepsy he seems to associate more with falling than with
convulsion: thus, of the fit that attacked Caesar when the crown was
offered to him, he writes:

    _Casca._ He fell down in the market-place, and foamed at mouth, and
    was speechless.

    _Brutus._ ‘Tis very like: he hath the falling-sickness.[260]

‘Cramp’ is used by Shakespeare for muscular spasms or contractures, and
he links the term on the one side to rheumatism, and on the other to
convulsions, in the following passages:

    For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps,
    Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up.[261]

Parolles says:

    ‘In a retreat he outruns any lackey: marry, in coming on he has the
    cramp.’[262]

Prospero says:

    Go, charge my goblins that they grind their joints
    With dry convulsions; shorten up their sinews
    With aged cramps.[263]

and

    ‘Leander ... went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont, and
    being taken with the cramp was drowned.’[264]

Robert Bayford, in his _Enchiridion Medicum_ published in 1655,
includes both wry-neck and convulsions under the heading cramp, but he
treats epilepsy separately on the ground that, as we know to be the
case, it is not always associated with convulsions. He has no word
‘rheumatism’ at all.

Pepys (1664) carried about with him a hare’s foot as a charm against
_colic_, i.e. against muscular spasm. Among Indians, Norwegians, and
Central Africans, the foot of an elk was a charm against epilepsy.
Pepys also recites a charm against cramp:

    Cramp, be thou faintless
    As our Lady was sinless
    When she bare Jesus.

In this charm the word cramp seems to refer to the painful _muscular
spasms_ of labour. Pepys, as we know, suffered from colic, but not
from epilepsy, so in using a hare’s foot as a charm against colic
he was probably employing a charm against epilepsy. In like manner
the ‘rheumatic ring’ of to-day seems to be the lineal descendant of
the cramp-ring of aforetime, and the confusion of nomenclature has
doubtless not affected its efficacy. Folk-medicine serves rather to
confirm than to elucidate the confusion, for in Suffolk moles’ feet are
carried as a charm against rheumatism, but in Sussex against cramp. In
Devonshire a dried frog is worn as a cure for fits.

Boswell, in his description of Johnson at the time of their tour to
the Hebrides, uses the word ‘cramp’ in its earlier significance.
‘His head,’ he says, ‘and sometimes also his body, shook with a kind
of motion like the effect of a palsy: he appeared to be frequently
disturbed by cramps, or convulsive contractions, of the nature of that
distemper called St. Vitus’s dance.’

It may be asked how it came about that rings were used in the first
instance as a remedy for epilepsy. It has occurred to me that their
use may have originated in the time-honoured belief that an epileptic
seizure may be aborted by ligature of a limb or part above the
situation in which the warning ‘aura’ commences. Galen, Alexander of
Tralles, Rhazes, and Avicenna, among the earlier writers on medicine,
all recommend the measure.


THE OFFICE OF CONSECRATING THE CRAMP-RINGS

_Certain prayers to be used by the queen’s highness, in the
consecration of the cramp-rings._

Deus misereatur nostri et benedicat nos Deus, illuminet vultum suum
super nos et misereatur nostri.

Ut cognoscamus in terra viam tuam, in omnibus gentibus salutare tuum.

Confiteantur tibi populi Deus, confiteantur tibi populi omnes.

Laetentur et exultent gentes, quoniam iudicas populos in aequitate, et
gentes in terra dirigis.

Confiteantur tibi populi Deus, confiteantur tibi populi omnes, terra
dedit fructum suum.

Benedicat nos Deus, Deus noster, benedicat nos Deus, et metuent eum
omnes fines terrae.

Gloria Patri, et Filio, et Spiritui Sancto.

Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper, et in saecula saeculorum,
Amen.

Omnipotens sempiterne Deus, qui ad solatium humani generis, varia ac
multiplicia miseriarum nostrarum levamenta uberrimis gratiae tuae
donis ab inexhausto benignitatis tuae fonte manantibus incessanter
tribuere dignatus es, et quos ad regalis sublimitatis fastigium
extulisti, insignioribus gratiis ornatos, donorumque tuorum organa
atque canales esse voluisti, ut sicut per te regnant aliisque praesunt,
ita te authore reliquis prosint, et tua in populum beneficia conferant:
preces nostras propitius respice, et quae tibi vota humillime fundimus,
benignus admitte, ut quod a te maiores nostri de tua misericordia
sperantes obtinuerunt, id nobis etiam pari fiducia postulantibus
concedere digneris. Per Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen.

_The rings lying in one bason, or more, this prayer to be said over
them._

Deus coelestium terrestriumque conditor creaturarum, atque humani
generis benignissime reparator, dator spiritualis gratiae, omniumque
benedictionum largitor, immitte Spiritum Sanctum tuum Paracletum de
coelis super hos annulos arte fabrili confectos, eosque magna tua
potentia ita emundare digneris, ut omni nequitia lividi venenosique
serpentis procul expulsa, metallum a te bono conditore creatum, a
cunctis inimici sordibus maneat immune. Per Christum Dominum nostrum.
Amen.

_Benedictio annulorum._

Deus Abraham, Deus Isaac, Deus Iacob, exaudi misericors preces nostras,
parce metuentibus, propitiare supplicibus, et mittere digneris sanctum
Angelum tuum de coelis qui sanctificet ✠ et benedicat ✠ annulos istos,
ut sint remedium salutare omnibus nomen tuum humiliter implorantibus,
ac semetipsos pro conscientia delictorum suorum accusantibus, atque
ante conspectum divinae clementiae tuae facinora sua deplorantibus, et
serenissimam pietatem tuam humiliter obnixeque flagitantibus; prosint
denique per invocationem sancti tui nominis omnibus istos gestantibus,
ad corporis et animae sanitatem. Per Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen.

_Benedictio._

Deus qui in morbis curandis maxima semper potentiae tuae miracula
declarasti, quique annulos in Iuda patriarcha fidei arrabonem, in
Aarone sacerdotale ornamentum, in Dario fidelis custodiae symbolum,
et in hoc regno variorum morborum remedia esse voluisti, hos annulos
propitius ✠ benedicere et ✠ sanctificare digneris: ut omnes qui eos
gestabunt sint immunes ab omnibus Satanae insidiis, sint armati virtute
coelestis defensionis, nec eos infestet vel nervorum contractio, vel
comitialis morbi pericula, sed sentiant te opitulante in omni morborum
genere levamen. In nomine Patris ✠ et Filii ✠ et Spiritus Sancti ✠.
Amen.

Benedic anima mea Domino: et omnia quae intra me sunt nomini sancto
eius. _Here follows the rest of that Psalm._

Immensam clementiam tuam misericors Deus humiliter imploramus, ut
qua animi fiducia et fidei sinceritate, ac certa mentis pietate, ad
haec impetranda accedimus, pari etiam devotione gratiae tuae symbola
fideles prosequantur: facessat omnis superstitio, procul absit
diabolicae fraudis suspicio, et in gloria tui nominis omnia cedant: ut
te largitorem bonorum omnium fideles tui intelligant, atque a te uno
quicquid vel animis vel corporibus vere prosit, profectum sentiant et
profiteantur. Per Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen.

_These prayers being said, the queen’s highness rubbeth the rings
between her hands, saying:_

Sanctifica Domine annulos istos, et rore tuae benedictionis benignus
asperge, ac manuum nostrarum confricatione, quas, olei sacra infusione
externa, sanctificare dignatus es pro ministerii nostri modo, consecra,
ut quod natura metalli praestare non possit, gratiae tuae magnitudine
efficiatur. Per Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen.

_Then must holy water be cast on the rings, saying:_

In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen. Domine Fili
Dei unigenite, Dei et hominum Mediator, Iesu Christe, in cuius unius
nomine salus recte quaeritur, quique in te sperantibus facilem ad
Patrem accessum conciliasti, quem quicquid in nomine tuo peteretur, id
omne daturum, cum certissimo veritatis oraculo ab ore tuo sancto, quum
inter homines versabaris <DW25> pronunciasti, precibus nostris aures tuae
pietatis accommoda, ut ad thronum gratiae in tua fiducia accedentes,
quod in nomine tuo humiliter postulavimus, id a nobis, te mediante,
impetratum fuisse, collatis per te beneficiis, fideles intelligant.
Qui vivis et regnas cum Deo patre in unitate Spiritus Sancti Deus, per
omnia saecula saeculorum. Amen.

Vota nostra quaesumus Domine, Spiritus Sanctus qui a te procedit,
aspirando praeveniat, et prosequatur, ut quod ad salutem fidelium
confidenter petimus, gratiae tuae dono efficaciter consequamur. Per
Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen.

Maiestatem tuam clementissime Deus, Pater, Filius, et Spiritus Sanctus,
suppliciter exoramus, ut quod ad nominis tui sanctificationem piis hic
ceremoniis peragitur, ad corporis simul et animae tutelam valeat in
terris, et ad uberiorem felicitatis fructum proficiat in coelis.

Qui vivis et regnas Deus, per omnia saecula saeculorum. Amen.


THE CEREMONIES OF BLESSING CRAMP-RINGS, ON GOOD FRIDAY, USED BY THE
CATHOLICK KINGS OF ENGLAND

_The psalme ‘Deus misereatur nostri, etc.’, with the ‘Gloria Patri’._

May God take pity upon us and blesse us: may he send forth the light of
his face upon us, and take pity on us.

That we may know thy ways on earth: among all nations thy salvation.

May people acknowledge thee, O God: may all people acknowledge thee.

Let nations rejoice and be glad, because thou judgest people with
equity: and doest guide nations on the earth.

May people acknowledge thee, O God, may all people acknowledge thee:
the earth has sent forth her fruit.

May God blesse us, that God who is ours: may that God blesse us: and
may all the bounds of the earth feare him.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son: and to the holy Ghost.

As it was in the beginning, and now, and ever: and for ever and ever.
Amen.

_Then the king reades this prayer:_

Almighty eternal God, who by the most copious gifts of thy grace
flowing from the unexhausted fountain of thy bounty, hast been
graciously pleased for the comfort of mankind, continually to grant us
many and various means to relieve us in our miseries, and art willing
to make those the instruments and channels of thy gifts, and to grace
those persons with more excellent favours, whom thou hast raised to the
royal dignity; to the end that as by thee they reign and govern others,
so by thee they may prove beneficial to them, and bestow thy favours on
the people: graciously heare our prayers and favourably receive those
vows we powre forth with humility, that thou mayest grant to us, who
beg with the same confidence, the favour which our ancestors by their
hopes in thy mercy have obtained, through Christ our Lord. Amen.

_The rings lying in one bason, or more, this prayer is to be said over
them:_

O God, the maker of heavenly and earthly creatures, and the most
gracious restorer of mankind, the dispenser of spiritual grace, and the
origin of all blessings: send downe from heaven thy holy Spirit the
Comforter upon these rings, artificially fram’d by the workman, and by
thy greate power purify them so, that all the malice of the fowle and
venomous serpent be driven out; and so the metal, which by thee was
created, may remaine pure and free from all the dregs of the enemy,
through Christ our Lord. Amen.

_The blessing of the rings._

O God of Abraham, God of Isaac, God of Jacob, heare mercifully our
prayers. Spare those who feare thee. Be propitious to thy suppliants,
and graciously be pleased to send downe from heaven thy holy angel:
that he may sanctify ✠ and blesse ✠ these rings: to the end they may
prove a healthy remedy to such as implore thy name with humility, and
accuse themselves of the sins which ly upon their conscience: who
deplore their crimes in the sight of thy divine clemency, and beseech
with earnestnes and humility thy most serene pity. May they in fine by
the invocation of thy holy name become profitable to all such as weare
them, for the health of their soule and body, through Christ our Lord.
Amen.

_A blessing._

O God, who has manifested the greatest wonders of thy power by the
cure of diseases, and who were pleased that rings should be a pledge
of fidelity in the patriark Judah, a priestly ornament in Aaron, the
mark of a faithful guardian in Darius, and in this kingdom a remedy
for divers diseases: graciously be pleased to blesse ✠ and sanctify ✠
these rings, to the end that all such as weare them may be free from
all snares of the devil, may be defended by the power of celestial
armour, and that no contraction of the nerves or any danger of the
falling-sickness may infest them, but that in all sort of diseases by
thy help they may find relief. In the name of the Father, ✠ and of the
Son, ✠ and of the Holy Ghost ✠. Amen.

Blesse, O my soule, the Lord: and let all things which are within me
praise his holy name.

Blesse, O my soule, the Lord: and do not forget all his favours.

He forgives all thy iniquities: he heales all thy infirmities.

He redeemes thy life from ruin: he crownes thee with mercy and
commiseration.

He fils thy desires with what is good: thy youth like that of the eagle
shal be renewed.

The Lord is he who does mercy: and does justice to those who suffer
wrong.

The merciful and pitying Lord: the long sufferer and most mighty
merciful.

He will not continue his anger for ever: neither wil he threaten for
ever.

He has not dealt with us in proportion to our sins: nor has he rendred
unto us according to our offences.

Because according to the distance of heaven from earth: so has he
enforced his mercies upon those who feare him.

As far distant as the east is from the west: so far has he divided our
offences from us.

After the manner that a father takes pity of his sons; so has the Lord
taken pity of those who feare him: because he knows what we are made of.

He remembers that we are but dust: man like hey such are his days: like
the flower in the field so wil he fade away.

Because his breath wil passe away through him, and he wil not be able
to subsist: and it wil find no longer its owne place.

But the mercy of the Lord is from all eternity: and will be for ever
upon those who feare him.

And his justice comes upon the children of their children: to those who
keep his wil.

And are mindful of his commandements: to performe them.

The Lord in heaven has prepared himselfe a throne: and his kingdom
shall reign over all.

Blesse yee the Lord all yee angels of his, yee who are powerful in
strength: who execute his commands, at the hearing of his voice when he
speakes.

Blesse yee the Lord all yee vertues of his: yee ministers who execute
his wil.

Blesse yee the Lord all yee works of his throughout all places of his
dominion: my soule praise thou the Lord.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son: and to the holy Ghost.

As it was in the beginning, and now, and ever: and for ever and ever.
Amen.

Wee humbly implore, O merciful God, thy infinit clemency: that as we
come to thee with a confident soule, and sincere faith, and a pious
assurance of mind: with the like devotion thy beleevers may follow on
these tokens of thy grace. May all superstition be banished hence, far
be all suspicion of any diabolical fraud, and to the glory of thy name
let all things succeede: to the end thy beleevers may understand thee
to be the dispenser of all good; and may be sensible and publish, that
whatsoever is profitable to soul or body, is derived from thee: through
Christ our Lord. Amen.

_These prayers being said, the king’s highnes rubbeth the rings between
his hands, saying:_

Sanctify, O Lord, these rings, and graciously bedew them with the dew
of thy benediction, and consecrate them by the rubbing of our hands,
which thou hast been pleased according to our ministery to sanctify by
an external effusion of holy oyle upon them; to the end that what the
nature of the mettal is not able to performe, may be wrought by the
greatnes of thy grace: through Christ our Lord. Amen.

_Then must holy water be cast on the rings, saying:_

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the holy Ghost. Amen.

O Lord, the only begotten Son of God, mediatour of God and men, Jesus
Christ, in whose name alone salvation is sought for, and to such as
hope in thee givest an easy access to thy Father; who when conversing
among men, thyself a man, didst promise by an assured oracle flowing
from thy sacred mouth, that thy Father should grant whatever was asked
in thy name; lend a gracious eare of pity to these prayers of ours: to
the end that approaching with confidence to the throne of thy grace,
the beleevers may find by the benefits conferrd upon them, that by thy
mediation we have obteined, what we have most humbly beg’d in thy Name;
who livest and reignest with God the Father, in the unity of the holy
Ghost, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Wee beseech thee, O Lord, that the Spirit, which proceedes from thee,
may prevent and follow on our desires; to the end that what we beg with
confidence for the good of the faithful, we may efficaciously obteine
by thy gracious gift: through Christ our Lord. Amen.

O most clement God; Father, Son, and holy Ghost: wee supplicate and
beseech Thee, that what is here performed by pious ceremonies to the
sanctifying of thy name, may be prevalent to the defense of our soule
and body on earth; and profitable to a more ample felicity in heaven.
Who livest and reignest God, world without end. Amen.




                   DR. JOHN WEYER AND THE WITCH MANIA

                          By E. T. Withington


The value of every new truth or discovery is relative, and depends upon
the state of ideas or knowledge prevalent at the time. Should it go
greatly beyond this, it may lose much in practical effect, like good
seed falling on unprepared soil; but the discoverer is no less worthy
of praise though he be so far in advance of his fellows that they
refuse to accept his teaching, and persecute instead of honouring him.
Posterity, however, often ignores former conditions, especially in an
era of rapid progress, for the quicker the advance the sooner will the
early stages be forgotten, however important and difficult they may
have been.

[Illustration: EFFIGIES IOANNIS WIERLANNO ÆTATIS LX SALVTIS M.D.LXXVI]

Among those who were so far beyond their age that the truths they
proclaimed not only were rejected by the majority but brought them into
danger was Dr. John Weyer, the first serious opponent of the witch
mania. He stood almost alone. His attack on the witch-hunters, though
it marks the turn of the tide, was followed by more than a century of
cruelty, injustice, and superstition; yet our ideas on the subject are
now so entirely altered that it is hard to imagine the value and danger
of the service he performed, and his name was almost forgotten even by
members of his own profession, when his biography was published by Dr.
K. Binz in 1885.[265]

Let us try to get some idea of the nature of the witch mania, that we
may better appreciate the courage and intelligence of this ancient
physician.

In the second half of the fifteenth century a new age began in
Western Europe. The revival of Greek, the invention of printing,
and the discovery of America gave fresh ideas and new prospects to
mankind. But, as the sun’s rays were believed to breed serpents in
fermenting matter, so amid this ferment of new life and light rose a
hideous monster, more terrible than any fabled dragon of romance or
superstition of the darkest ages, which for generations satiated itself
on the tears and blood of the innocent and helpless. This was the
witch mania. For two centuries the majority of theologians and jurists
in Western Europe were convinced that vast numbers of their fellow
creatures, especially women, were in league with the devil, that they
had sexual intercourse with him or his imps, and that he bestowed on
them in exchange for their souls the power of injuring their neighbours
in person or property. They thought it their duty to search out these
witches, to force from them, by the most terrible tortures they could
devise, not only confessions of their own guilt, but also denunciations
of their associates, and finally to put them to death, preferably by
burning. In consequence, many thousands of innocent persons of all ages
and ranks, but especially poor women, were judicially murdered, after
being first compelled by unspeakable torments to commit moral suicide
by declaring themselves guilty of unmentionable crimes, and to involve
their dearest friends and relations in a similar fate. There is no
sadder scene in the whole tragicomedy of human history.

There had been nothing like it in the darkest of the dark ages, there
was nothing like it among the far more ignorant and superstitious
adherents of the Eastern Church. The witch mania in its extreme form
has been manifested only by the Catholics and Protestants of the
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries and by some tribes of African
savages.

In early Christian times, witchcraft was recognized as a relic of
paganism, but it was not feared. Christ had overcome the powers of
darkness, and His true followers need fear no harm from them. A canon
of the Church, at least as early as the ninth century, declared that
women who thought they rode through the air with Diana or Herodias were
only deluded by the devil, and that those who believed human beings
could create anything, or change themselves or others into animal
forms, were infidels and worse than heathens; and confessors were
instructed to inquire into and inflict penance for the belief that
witches could enter closed doors, make hail-storms, or kill persons
without visible means.[266]

In the enlightened sixteenth century, any one who professed his
disbelief that witches could ride through the air, change themselves
into cats, or make caterpillars and thunder-storms, would have had an
excellent chance of being burnt as a heretic or concealed sorcerer.
St. Boniface (680-755) classed belief in witches and were-wolves among
the works of the devil, and St. Agobard of Lyons (779-840) declared
the idea that witches caused hail and thunder-storms to be impious and
absurd.[267] The laws of Charlemagne made it murder to put any one to
death on charge of witchcraft, and in the eleventh century King Coloman
of Hungary asserted briefly, ‘Let no one speak of witches, seeing there
are none’.[268] Few, indeed, were quite so sceptical as this; still
witchcraft was in the Middle Ages looked upon by the educated in a
half-contemptuous fashion, and even those who openly professed sorcery
frequently escaped with no worse punishment than penance, banishment,
or an ecclesiastical scourging.

This may be well illustrated by a story told in the life of the learned
Dominican, St. Vincent of Beauvais. An old woman once (1190-1264) came
to a priest in his church and demanded money from him, saying she had
done him a great service, for that, when she and her companions, who
were witches, had entered his bedroom the previous night, she had
prevented them from injuring him. ‘But how’, asked the priest, ‘could
you enter my chamber, seeing that the door was locked?’ ‘Oh,’ said
the witch, ‘that matters naught to us, for we go through keyholes as
easily as through open doors.’ ‘If what you say is true,’ replied the
holy man, ‘you shall not lack a reward, but I must first have proof of
it.’ With these words, he locked the church door, and began vigorously
to beat the old woman with the handle of the crucifix he carried,
asking her, when she complained, why she did not escape through the
keyhole.[269]

The great Pope Nicholas I (died 867) strongly condemned the use of
torture to induce confessions, and Gregory VII (died 1085) forbade
inquisition to be made for witches and sorcerers on occasions of plague
or bad weather.[270] Later, the inquisitorial process, combined with
torture to enforce denunciations, became the chief agent in spreading
and maintaining the witch mania.

The Eastern Church remained in this mediaeval stage, and never
developed a witch mania. In the West the change seems to have been
brought about mainly by two causes, the development of heresies and the
increasing prominence of the devil.

There is no doubt that the Albigensian and other heresies of the
twelfth and thirteenth centuries contained Manichean elements. It
was taught that there were two divinities--one perfectly good, the
creator of the invisible spiritual world, the other the creator of
the material world, the Demiurgus, a being capable of evil passions,
wrath, jealousy, &c., who was identified with the Jehovah of the Old
Testament.[271] It required very little to confound this Demiurgus with
Satan, the Prince of this world; after which it was easy to look upon
Satan as a being not entirely evil, as Lucifer, son of the morning, the
disinherited son or brother of God, a natural object of worship for the
oppressed and discontented.[272]

The serfs, equally tyrannized over by bishop and noble, the relics
of the persecuted sects Waldenses and Cathari,[273] sought refuge,
like Saul of old, in forbidden arts, and thus sects of Luciferans,
or devil-worshippers, arose (especially in Germany and France) whose
numbers were exaggerated by the fear and horror of the orthodox.[274]

At the same time the devil acquired more importance in other ways.
That fearful calamity, the Black Death, seemed to display his power
over both the just and the unjust; while the Great Schism in which each
pope excommunicated the other, handing him and his adherents over to
Satan, put every one not absolutely certain of being on the right side
in reasonable fear of the powers of darkness.

The belief in the great activity and power of the devil and his
servants the sorcerers was further supported by the vast authority of
St. Thomas Aquinas (1225-74), whose ingenuity enabled him to explain
away those ancient canons which seemed opposed to the more extreme
views. Thus the synod of Bracara (A.D. 563) had declared the doctrine
that the devil can produce drought or thunder-storms to be heresy; to
which the Doctor Angelicus replied that though it is doubtless heresy
to believe the devil can make natural thunder-storms, it is by no means
contrary to the Catholic faith to hold that he may, by the permission
of God, make artificial ones.[275]

For these and other reasons, the devil assumed greater prominence
during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries than ever before. Men
believed that he might appear to them from behind every hedge or ruin,
that his action was to be seen in almost all pains and diseases, but
that he was to be dreaded most of all when he entered into a league
with some man or woman. Thus everything was ready for the outbreak
of witch mania when, in 1484, Pope Innocent VIII by his bull _Summis
desiderantes_ gave the sanction of the Church to the popular beliefs
concerning witches, such as sexual intercourse with devils, destruction
of crops, and infliction of sterility and disease on man and beast.

The charge of sorcery had usually been employed in earlier times either
to check learned men who seemed to be going too far, or tending to
heresy in their researches, as in the case of the physicians Arnold
of Villanova (1240-1312) and Peter of Abano (1250-1320), or to crush
individuals and societies who were politically dangerous, as with
Joan of Arc, the Duchess of Gloucester, and the Templars--the Church
being called in to aid the civil power. Now it was the Church which
called upon the civil power to assist in a crusade against witches and
sorcerers as being the worst and most dangerous of heretics.

In the Middle Ages it was held that a man who called up the devil,
knowing it to be wrong, was not a heretic but merely a sinner. But
if he thought it was not wrong, or that the devil would tell him the
truth, or that the devil could do anything without God’s permission,
he was also a heretic, since these beliefs are contrary to Church
doctrine. In the fifteenth century it was taught that all sorcerers
are heretics, _maleficus_ being, according to the learned authors of
the _Malleus Maleficarum_, a contraction of _male de fide sentiens_ or
heretic.[276]

Nor was the identification of heresy and witchcraft illogical,
whatever we may think of the etymology. The Church is the kingdom of
God, heretics form the kingdom of the devil, and just as the Church
possesses saints who see visions, work miracles, and commune with
Christ face to face, so there are specially eminent heretics, saints of
the devil’s church, who work miracles and have obscene intercourse with
their master. All true Christians are potential saints, all heretics
potential sorcerers, for all have committed treason against the divine
Majesty, though only some may have entered into a definite compact
with the enemy. The former, if they repent, may hope for perpetual
imprisonment; the latter are to be put to death whether they repent or
not.

This view was also of advantage to the Church, for it increased the
horror of heresy and facilitated its suppression. The laity had never
entirely reconciled themselves to the sight of their apparently
harmless neighbours being tortured and burnt for differences in
abstract belief, but almost every one was ready to torture and burn a
sorcerer, and local outbreaks of witch-hunting were frequently started
by mob violence. In 1555 it was declared by the Peace of Augsburg
that no one should suffer in life and property for his religion; but
to take a Lutheran, call him a sorcerer, confiscate his goods, and
force him by torture to confess that he was led into his errors by
the devil himself, seems to have been too great a temptation for the
prince-bishops who headed the ‘counter-reformation’ in South Germany
to resist. That this was partly the cause of the great witch-burnings
in the bishoprics of Würzburg, Bamberg, Fulda, and Trèves is evidenced
by the large proportion of male victims, and by the frequent and
significant appearance of the phrase ‘is also Lutheran’ in the
official reports.

As soon as the Reformation was established, Protestants vied with
Catholics as witch-hunters. Eager to show that they were in no way
inferior to their opponents in zeal for the Lord and enmity against
Satan and his servants, they had the advantage of being able to follow
the scriptural injunction, ‘Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live’,
without previously explaining away ancient canons and decrees of Church
synods which seemed to throw doubt on the very existence of the more
typical forms of witchcraft. Nor did they hesitate to attack their
rivals with similar weapons. If Protestants were burnt as sorcerers at
Würzburg, we find the first Danish Lutheran bishop, Peter Palladius,
recommending the zealous members of his flock to seek out the so-called
wise women of their neighbourhoods on pretence of having some disease.
If then the latter use paternosters, holy water, or invocations of
saints, they are probably not only Catholics but witches, and should be
treated accordingly.[277]

Almost all the victims of the witch mania were executed on their own
confession, extorted in the vast majority of instances by torture
or the fear of torture. In England, where torture was theoretically
illegal, confessions were comparatively rare, and nearly all died
protesting their innocence. The few exceptions prove the rule; thus
Elinor Shaw and Mary Philips, almost the last witches legally executed
in England, 1705, confessed because they were threatened with death
if they refused, and promised release if they pleaded guilty,[278]
while others were induced to admit their guilt by being kept awake
several nights, and forced to run up and down their cells till utterly
exhausted, methods almost as effectual in producing ‘a readiness to
confess’ as the rack or the thumb-screw.[279]

Nearly all the confessions were to a similar effect. From Lisbon to
Liegnitz, from Calabria to Caithness, the central point of the story
was the ‘sabbat’, an assembly of witches and sorcerers in some barren
spot where they adored a visible devil, indulged in feasts, dances,
and sexual orgies, reported what evil they had done and plotted more.

A few examples will therefore suffice, and they may be best taken from
the _Daemanolatria_[280] of Nicholas Remy, Inquisitor of Lorraine, who
burned nearly 900 witches and sorcerers in fifteen years, 1575-90.

He proves the reality of the witch dances as follows: A boy named John
of Haimbach confessed that his mother took him to a sabbat to play the
flute. He was told to climb up into a tree that he might be heard the
better, and was so amazed by what he saw that he exclaimed: ‘Good God!
where did this crowd of fools and lunatics come from?’ Thereupon he
fell from the tree and found himself alone with a dislocated shoulder.
Ottilia Velvers, who was arrested soon after, confirmed the whole
story, as did also Eysarty Augnel, who was burnt the following year.
So too, Nicholas Langbernard, while going home in the early morning of
July 21, 1590, saw in full daylight a number of men and women dancing
back to back, some of them with cloven hoofs. He cried out ‘Jesus’ and
crossed himself, upon which all vanished except a woman called Pelter,
whose broomstick dropped, and who was then carried off by a whirlwind.
The grass was afterwards found to be beaten down in a circle with marks
of hoof-prints. Pelter and two other women were arrested and confessed
they were present, as also did John Michael, who said he was playing
the flute in a tree, and fell down when Nicholas crossed himself, but
was carried off in a whirlwind, his broomstick not being at hand.

‘What further evidence’, asks the inquisitor, ‘can any one require?’
The only possible objection, viz. that they were phantoms or spirits of
people whose bodies were asleep in their beds, is worthless, ‘it being
the pious and Christian belief that soul and body when once parted do
not reunite till the day of judgement’.

The food at these sabbats usually included the flesh of unbaptized
children, and was always abominable. A certain Morel said he was
obliged to spit it out, at which the demon was much enraged. ‘Dancing
opens a large window to wickedness,’ and is therefore specially
encouraged by the devil, but the dances cause great exhaustion, just as
his feasts cause loathing, and his money changes to dung or potsherds.
‘Barberina Rahel, and nearly all others, declared they had to lie in
bed two days after a witch dance, but even the oldest cannot excuse
themselves, and the devil beats them if they are lazy.’ The music is
horrible; every one sings or plays what he likes, a favourite method
being to drum on horse skulls or trees. Sometimes the devil gives a
concert of his own, at which all are required to applaud and show
pleasure; those who do not are beaten so that they are sore for two
days, as Joanna Gransandeau confessed.

All are compelled to attend and give an account of their evil deeds
under heavy penalties. C. G. said ‘he was beaten till he nearly died
for failing to attend a sabbat, and for curing a girl whom he had been
told to poison. The devil also carried him up into the air over the
river Moselle, and threatened to drop him unless he swore to poison
a certain person.’ The witch Belhoria was attacked by dropsy because
she refused to poison her husband. If they failed in their attempts on
others, they were compelled to poison their own children, or destroy
their own property.

Antonius Welch was asked to lend his garden for a witch dance. He
refused, and found it full of snails and caterpillars. Men of little
faith have objected that only God can create, for ‘without Him nothing
is made that was made’; but why should not demons collect vast numbers
of insects in a moment? Look at the well-known rain of frogs, blood,
&c. This is doubtless done by devils out of mere sport: how much more
would they do for love of harm? The making of thunder-storms is harder
to believe, but has been admitted by more than 200 condemned witches
and sorcerers. Almost all confessed that they could creep into locked
rooms and houses in the form of small animals, and resuming their
natural shape commit all sorts of crimes, showing, says Remy, what a
peril they are to mankind.

A worthy comrade of Remy was Peter Binsfeld, suffragan Bishop of Trèves
and foremost opponent of John Weyer. He is said to have burnt no fewer
than 6,500 persons and to have so desolated his diocese that in many
villages round Trèves there was scarcely a woman left. His _Tractatus
de confessionibus maleficorum_[281] begins with the following case,
which with those mentioned above affords a complete view of the usual
witch confessions. John Kuno Meisenbein, a youth about eighteen years
old, was studying ‘poetry and the humaner letters’ at the High School
in Trèves, when he confessed to the authorities that his mother,
brother, sister, and self were all in league with the devil. He said
that in his ninth year his mother had initiated him as a sorcerer,
and had carried him up the chimney on a goat to a heath near Trèves,
where he took part in the usual sabbat and had intercourse with a
female demon named Capribarba. The mother, Anna Meisenbein, a woman of
good position, had already escaped to Cologne, but a son and daughter
were arrested, strangled, and burned. ‘They died with much sorrow and
penitence.’ The eldest son, John Kuno, thereupon urged the judges to
use all means to capture his mother, ‘that by punishment and momentary
death in this world she might escape eternal damnation’.

Moved by this most creditable and merciful petition (_honestissima et
plenissima misericordiae petitione excitatus_), the prior wrote to his
friends at Cologne, and the unhappy woman was arrested and taken back
to Trèves. At first she protested her innocence, ‘but when more severe
tortures were employed’ she made the usual admissions. Having lost a
baby, she had, for a moment, doubted the goodness of God. Whereupon
a man in black raiment appeared at the side of the bed, and promised
if she would renounce God and serve him he would give her peace of
mind. She did so, and he became her lover, and gave her money, which
however vanished. He called himself Fedderhans, and had asses’ feet.
Then follows the usual story of the sabbat. ‘This woman’, concludes
the bishop, ‘was burnt alive October 20, 1590, and had a good end.’
They offered to behead John Kuno as a reward for his filial piety
and repentance, but he said he was unworthy of such a favour and was
therefore strangled and burnt. ‘He had a most edifying end,’ says
the bishop, who proceeds to comment upon sexual intercourse between
witches, sorcerers, and demons, ‘which is so certain that it is an
impudence to deny it, as St. Augustine saith,[282] being supported by
the confessions of learned and unlearned, and by all the doctors of the
Church, though a few medical men, advocates of the devil’s kingdom [an
obvious reference to Weyer, whom he abuses in the preface], have dared
to deny it’.[283]

It is not our purpose to try and discover what amount of truth is
contained in the immense farrago of absurdities comprised in the witch
confessions. Actual nocturnal meetings of peasants, either to celebrate
heathen rites or to plot against their oppressors, or merely to enjoy
rude dances and music, as the <DW64> in the Southern States was supposed
to play the banjo nightly after his labours on the plantation, may or
may not have assisted in spreading and confirming the belief in the
sabbat, but they were not necessary. The whole story of child murder,
obscene worship of a demon, dances and sexual orgies, was ready to hand
long before. It had been applied in classic times to the worshippers
of Isis and Bacchus, by the pagans to the early Christians, by the
orthodox to the first heretics, to the Jews, to the Templars, and in
our own day we have seen very similar charges brought against the
Freemasons. All these sets of people had known meeting-places--the
witches had none; they must therefore meet on some barren moor or
mountain and be carried there supernaturally. Once started, the belief
spread rapidly. Indeed we know from contemporary writers that it was a
common subject of village gossip, and if any wretched victim had any
doubt as to what she was expected to confess, the gaoler and judges
were always ready with hints or leading questions.

One learned German[284] has attributed the whole witch mania to the
_Datura Stramonium_, or thorn-apple, a plant introduced into Europe
about this time. Women dosed themselves with this drug, or applied
it in ointments, and forthwith had hallucinations of broomstick
rides and witch dances. Others look upon belladonna as the principal
agent, and one ardent investigator took dangerous doses of it in the
hope of experiencing the adventures of a mediaeval sorcerer, but
without definite effect. A similar experiment has recently been made
by Kiesewetter, the historian of ‘Spiritualism’. He used the witch
ointments described by Baptista Porta and others, but could produce
nothing more diabolical than dreams of travelling in an express
train.[285] Others, again, have supposed that the badly baked rye bread
of the period must have produced an immense amount of nightmare among
the poorer classes. The power of suggestion, doubtless, had a very real
influence both on the victims and their judges, and with the aid of
narcotics may not infrequently have produced vivid dreams of dancing
and other intercourse with demons.

No doubt many persons were quite ready to become witches or sorcerers,
and some really believed they had acquired such powers. Cases are
recorded in which formal agreements, duly signed in blood, and awaiting
the devil’s acceptance, were discovered, and resulted in the arrest and
burning of the would-be wizard. Others took pleasure in the terror the
reputed powers inspired, and may have sometimes caused or increased it
by the use of actual poisons.

But these formed but a small minority of the vast army of victims; and
even when some real criminal was arrested or some half-insane person
voluntarily ‘confessed’, she was encouraged or compelled to denounce
her supposed associates, and thus often involved scores of innocent
acquaintances in her own awful fate.

The witch-hunters are not to be blamed for believing in witchcraft,
or even for carrying out the scriptural injunction ‘Thou shalt not
suffer a witch to live’. It is the methods they employed, compared with
which the procedure of a Jeffreys or a Caiaphas was just and merciful,
which cannot be excused by any talk about the spirit of the age, which
brought agony and death to many thousands of innocent men, women and
little children, and which excited the fiery and righteous indignation
of Dr. John Weyer.

According to Pascal, men never do wrong so thoroughly and so cheerfully
as when they are obeying the promptings of a false principle of
conscience. To which we may add that men are never more cruel and
unjust than when they are in a fright. The witch-hunters, most of
them at least, were pious and conscientious men. They appeal to God,
the Church, and the Bible at every step. Nicholas Remy, for instance,
after torturing and burning over 800 of his fellow creatures, retired
from work thinking he had done God and man good service. But one thing
troubled his conscience. He had spared the lives of certain young
children, and merely ordered them to be scourged naked three times
round the place where their parents were burning. He is convinced
that this was wrong, and that they will all grow up into witches and
sorcerers. Besides, if God sent two she-bears to slay the forty and two
children who mocked Elisha, of how much greater punishment are those
worthy who have done despite to God, His Mother, the saints, and the
Catholic religion?[286] He hopes his sinful clemency will not become a
precedent--a fear which was quite unnecessary, for scores of children
under twelve were burnt for witchcraft; and the one plea which even
then respited the most atrocious murderess did not always avail a
witch, since it was believed that her future child, if not the actual
offspring of the devil, would infallibly belong to his kingdom.

But the witch-hunters were urged on by fear as well as by piety, for
not only did they think themselves exposed to personal attacks from the
devil and his allies, but they believed there was a vast and increasing
society of men and women in league with the evil one, and that the fate
of the world depended on its suppression.

All the machinery, therefore, which the Roman emperors had devised for
their protection against treason and the Church for the suppression
of heresy was brought into action against the witches, for witchcraft
was the acme of treason and heresy, a _crimen laesae maiestatis
divinae_.[287]

For a description of the methods employed we cannot do better than
go to the _Malleus Maleficarum_,[288] the guide and handbook of the
witch-hunters.

All proceedings in cases of witchcraft, say the reverend authors,
must be on the plan recommended by Popes Clement V and Boniface VIII,
‘summarie, simpliciter, et de plano, ac sine strepitu ac figura
iudicii’, a harmless looking phrase which swept away at a stroke all
the safeguards which the lawyers of pagan Rome and the ruder justice
of ancient Gaul and Germany had placed around accused persons. There
are, says the _Malleus_,[289] two forms of criminal procedure: (1)
the old legal or _accusatorial_ form where the prosecutor offers to
prove his charge and to accept the consequences of failure, which must
be carefully avoided as being dangerous and litigious; and (2) the
_inquisitorial_, where a man denounces another either from zeal for
the faith, or because called upon to do so, but takes no further part
nor offers to prove his charge, or where a man is suspected by common
report and the judge makes inquiry, and this method must always be
preferred. The inquisitors, on entering a new district, should issue
a proclamation calling on all persons to give information against
suspected witches on pain of excommunication and temporal penalties.
Any one may be compelled, by torture if necessary, to give evidence,
and if he refuses must be punished as an obstinate heretic. Other
sorcerers, or the man’s wife and family, are lawful witnesses against,
but not for, the accused. Criminals and perjured persons, if they show
zeal for the faith, may be admitted to give evidence. Priests, nobles,
graduates of universities, and others legally exempt from torture are
not exempt in the case of witch trials.[290]

‘Delation,’ the scandal of imperial Rome, was not only encouraged
but enforced, and in some places, as at Milan, boxes were put in the
churches, into which any one might drop an anonymous denunciation of
his neighbour.

Names of informers are not to be revealed under penalty of
excommunication; the advocate, if there is one, need be told the
charges only. This advocate must not be chosen by the accused but
by the inquisitor, and he must refuse the case if it seems to him
unjust or hopeless. He must not use legal quibbles or make delays or
appeals, and is to be specially warned that if he be found a protector
of heretics or a hinderer of the inquisition, he will incur the usual
penalties for those heinous crimes. If he reply that he defends the
person, not the error, this avails not, for he must make no defence
which interferes with proceeding _summarie, simpliciter, et de
plano_.[291] After this it is not surprising to find that those accused
of witchcraft were rarely defended by an advocate.

Faith need be kept with heretics and sorcerers ‘for a time only’.[292]
Therefore an inquisitor may promise not to condemn a person if he
confesses, and then pass sentence after a few days, or if of very
tender conscience by the mouth of another. It is also lawful to
introduce persons, _etiam mulieres honestae_, to the accused who
promise to find means for their escape if they will teach them some
form of witchcraft. This, say the authors, is a most successful method
for getting convictions.[293]

Torture, though it may not be repeated on the same charge, may be
continued as long as necessary, and any fresh evidence justifies a
repetition. Finally the accused may be burnt without confession if the
evidence is strong enough, or he may be kept in prison for months
or years, when the _squalor carceris_ may induce him to confess his
crimes.[294]

Such are the proceedings recommended against persons suspected of or
denounced for witchcraft, and they conclude appropriately with the
hideously hypocritical formula with which they were delivered over to
be burnt: ‘Relinquimus te potestati curiae secularis, deprecantes tamen
illam ut erga te citra sanguinis effusionem et mortis periculum suam
sententiam moderetur’,[295] which means, according to the _Malleus_,
that sorcerers are to be burned even though they repent, while
repentant heretics may be imprisoned for life.

What was meant by the _squalor carceris_ may be seen from the following
description by an eye-witness, Pretorius:[296]

    ‘Some [of the dungeons] are holes like cellars or wells, fifteen
    to thirty fathoms (?) deep with openings above, through which they
    let down the prisoners with ropes and draw them up when they will.
    Such prisons I have seen myself. Some sit in great cold, so that
    their feet are frost-bitten or frozen off, and afterwards, if they
    escape, they are crippled for life. Some lie in continual darkness,
    so that they never see a ray of sunlight, and know not whether it
    be night or day. All of them have their limbs confined so that they
    can hardly move, and are in continual unrest, and lie in their own
    refuse, far more filthy and wretched than cattle. They are badly
    fed, cannot sleep in peace, have much anxiety, heavy thoughts, bad
    dreams. And since they cannot move hands or feet, they are plagued
    and bitten by lice, rats, and other vermin, besides being daily
    abused and threatened by gaolers and executioners. And since all
    this sometimes lasts months or years, such persons, though at first
    they be courageous, rational, strong, and patient, at length become
    weak, timid, hopeless, and if not quite, at least half idiotic and
    desperate.’

Yet all this was not considered torture, and if some poor wretch, after
a year of it, went mad, or preferred a quick death to a slow one, her
confession was described as being ‘entirely voluntary and without
torture’.

As to the torture itself, it combined all that the ferocity of savages
and the ingenuity of civilized man had till then invented. Besides the
ordinary rack, thumb-screws, and leg-crushers or Spanish boots, there
were spiked wheels over which the victims were drawn with weights on
their feet; boiling oil was poured on their legs, burning sulphur
dropped on their bodies, and lighted candles held beneath their
armpits. At Bamberg they were fed on salt fish and allowed no water,
and then bathed in scalding water and quicklime. At Lindheim they were
fixed to a revolving table and whirled round till they vomited and
became unconscious, and on recovery remained in so dazed a state that
they were ready to confess anything.[297] At Neisse they were fastened
naked in a chair ‘with 150 finger-long spikes in it’ and kept there
for hours. And so effective were these tortures that nine out of ten
innocent persons preferred to die as confessed sorcerers rather than
undergo a repetition of them.

The Jesuit Father Spee, a worthy successor of John Weyer, accompanied
nearly two hundred victims to the stake at Würzburg in less than two
years. At the end of this time his hair had turned grey and he seemed
twenty years older, and on being questioned as to the cause, declared
that he was convinced that all these persons were innocent. They had,
he said, at first repeated the usual confession, but on being tenderly
dealt with had one and all protested their innocence, adjuring him at
the same time not to reveal this, for they would much rather die than
be tortured again. He added that he had received similar reports from
other father confessors.[298] A few years later, 1631, he plucked up
courage to publish anonymously his _Cautio Criminalis_, in which he
exclaims:

    ‘Why do we search so diligently for sorcerers? I will show you
    at once where they are. Take the Capuchins, the Jesuits, all the
    religious orders, and torture them--they will confess. If some
    deny, repeat it a few times--they will confess. Should a few still
    be obstinate, exorcise them, shave them: they use sorcery, the
    devil hardens them, only keep on torturing--they will give in. If
    you want more, take the Canons, the Doctors, the Bishops of the
    Church--they will confess. How should the poor delicate creatures
    hold out? If you want still more, I will torture you and then you
    me. I will confess the crimes you will have confessed, and so we
    shall all be sorcerers together.’[299]

In the most notorious of judicial murders, we read that the judges had
some difficulty owing to a disagreement between the witnesses. This
rarely troubled the witch-hunters. At Lindheim a woman was accused
of having dug up and carried off the body of an infant, which, under
torture, she admitted, denouncing four others as her accomplices.
But on the grave being opened, the body was found uninjured. The
inquisitors at once decided that this must be a delusion of the devil,
and all five women were burned. A man confessed, under torture, that
he was a were-wolf, and in that form had killed a calf belonging to a
neighbour; the latter, however, said he had never lost a calf, though
two or three years ago two hens had disappeared, he believed through
witchcraft. The accused was burnt, for what need had they of witnesses?
Had they not heard his confession?[300]

It was even laid down as a principle that doubtful points must be
decided ‘in favour of the faith’--in other words, against the accused.
‘If a sorcerer retracts his denunciations at the stake, it is not void,
for he may have been corrupted by friends of the accused. Also when
witnesses vary, as they often do, the positive assertion is always to
be believed,’ says Bishop Covarivias, a prominent member of the Council
of Trent. In which he is supported by the jurist Menochius of Padua,
‘ne tam horrendum crimen occultum sit’.

Anything might start a witch-hunting, and once started it increased
like an avalanche. If an old woman happened to be out of doors in a
thunder-storm; if the winter was prolonged; if there was a more than
usual number of flies and caterpillars; if a woman had a spite against
her neighbour, some one might be denounced and forced in turn to
denounce others. The prolonged winter of 1586 in Savoy, for instance,
resulted in the burning of 113 women and two men, who confessed, after
torture, that it was due to their incantations.

It is thus not difficult to understand how, in the diocese of Como,
witches were burnt for many years at an average rate of 100 per annum;
how in that of Strassburg 5,000 were burnt in twenty years, 1615-35;
how in the small diocese of Neisse 1,000 suffered between 1640-50,
insomuch that they gave up the stake and pile as being too costly,
and roasted them in a specially prepared oven; and how the Protestant
jurist Benedict Carpzov could boast not only of having read the Bible
through fifty-three times, but also of having passed 20,000 death
sentences, chiefly on witches and sorcerers.[301]

One of Carpzov’s victims is specially interesting to medical men, the
Saxon physician, Dr. Veit Pratzel, who on one occasion (1660) produced
twenty mice by sleight of hand in a public-house, probably for the
sake of advertisement. He was denounced as a sorcerer, tortured and
burnt, while his children were bled to death in a warm bath by the
executioner, lest they should acquire similar diabolical powers.[302]

A like fate befell the servant of a travelling dentist at Schwersenz
in Poland. The dentist, John Plan, left his assistant in the town
to attract attention by conjuring tricks, while he went to sell his
infallible toothache tinctures in the neighbouring villages. On
his return next evening, he was horrified to see the body of the
unfortunate man hanging on the town gallows, and was told on inquiry
that he was an evident sorcerer who had made eggs, birds, and plants
before everybody in the market-place. He had therefore been arrested,
scourged, put on the rack, and otherwise tortured till he confessed
he was in league with the devil. Whereupon the town council, ‘out
of special grace and to save expense’, had, instead of burning him,
mercifully condemned him to be hanged. The dentist fled in terror to
Breslau.[303]

But it was by no means necessary to be so foolhardy as this to fall
into the hands of the witch-hunters. A woman at Lindheim was noticed to
run into her barn as the inquisitorial officials came down the street.
She had never been accused or even suspected of witchcraft, but was
nevertheless immediately arrested, and brought more dead than alive to
the chief inquisitor, Geiss,[304] who declared her flight justified the
strongest suspicion. Exposed to the most extreme torture, she confessed
nothing, but at length, at the question whether she had made a compact
with the devil, one of the inquisitors declared he saw her nod her
head. This was enough; she was burnt; probably a happy fate under the
circumstances, for she thus escaped being forced by further tortures to
give details of her imaginary crime and to denounce her neighbours.

Once in the clutches of the witch-hunters, the unfortunate victim was
confronted by a series of dilemmas from which few escaped. A favourite
beginning was to ask whether he believed in witchcraft. If he said
‘Yes’, he evidently knew more of the subject; if ‘No’, he was _ipso
facto_ a heretic and slanderer of the inquisition; if in confusion he
tried to distinguish, he was _varius in confessionibus_,[305] and a
fit subject for immediate torture. If he confessed under torture, the
matter was, of course, settled; if he endured manfully, it was evident
that the devil must be aiding him. If a mark could be found on his body
which was insensible and did not bleed when pricked, it was the devil’s
seal and a sure sign of guilt; but if there was none, his case was no
better, for it was held that the devil only marked those whose fidelity
he doubted, so that a suspected person who had no such mark was in all
probability a specially eminent sorcerer.[306]

Then came the water test, of which there is no better account than the
report sent by W. A. Scribonius, Professor of Philosophy at Marburg, to
the town council of Lemgo in 1583:

    ‘When I came to you, most prudent and learned consules, 26th
    September, there were, two days later on St. Michael’s eve, three
    witches burnt alive for divers and horrible crimes. The same day
    three others, denounced by those aforesaid, were arrested, and on
    the following day about 2 p.m. for further proving of the truth
    were thrown into water to see whether they would swim or not. Their
    clothes were removed and they were bound by the right thumb to
    the left big toe and vice versa, so that they could not move in
    the least. They were then cast three times into the water in the
    presence of some thousands of spectators, and floated like logs
    of wood, nor did one of them sink. And it is also remarkable that
    almost at the moment they touched the water a shower of rain then
    falling ceased, and the sun shone, but when they were taken out it
    started raining as before.’

On request of the burgomaster, he investigated ‘the philosophy’ of
this, and, though he could find nothing definite, had no doubt of
its value as a test of witchcraft. ‘The physician Weyer rejects it
as absurd and fallacious, but he can produce no good arguments or
examples against it, and may therefore be ignored.’ Perhaps witches are
made lighter because possessed by demons who are ‘powers of the air’
and often carry them through the air. All who float have afterwards
confessed, therefore though not scriptural nor of itself sufficient to
convict, the swimming test is not to be despised.[307]

With regard to the number of victims, even sober historians, such as
Soldan, speak of millions, but if we take three-quarters of a million
for the two centuries 1500-1700, it will give a rate of ten executions
daily, at least eight of which were judicial murders.

Even more pathetic than the notice of 800 condemned in one body by the
senate of Savoy[308] are the long lists of yearly executions preserved
in the fragmentary records of small towns and villages. Thus at
Meiningen, between 1610-31 and 1656-85, 106 suffered--in 1610 three,
1611 twenty-two, 1612 four, &c. &c., the intervening records being
omitted owing to war. Similar notices have survived at Waldsee, Thun in
Alsace, and many other hamlets, where through a long series of years
we read of one to twenty persons burnt annually, some of them being
previously ‘torn with red-hot pincers’.[309]

At Würzburg the Prince-bishop, Philip of Ehrenberg, is said to
have burnt 900 in five years (1627-31), and we have terrible lists
of twenty-nine of the burnings, almost all of which include young
children. Here are two of them:

    ‘In the thirteenth burning, four persons: the old court smith, an
    old woman, a little girl of nine or ten years, a younger girl her
    sister.’

    ‘In the twentieth burning, six persons: Babelin Goebel, the
    prettiest girl in Würzburg; a student in the fifth form who knew
    many languages and was an excellent musician, instrumental and
    vocal; two boys from the new minster, twelve years old; Babel
    Stepper’s daughter; the caretaker on the bridge.’[310]

At Bamberg the Prince-bishop, John George, 1625-30, burnt at least
600 persons, and his predecessors had been hardly less vigorous
witch-hunters. He was ably seconded by his suffragan, Bishop Förner,
and two doctors of law, Braun and Kötzendörffer, who besides the
ordinary torture implements, salt fish and quicklime baths, found a
so-called prayer stool or bench covered with spikes, on which the
victim was forced to kneel, and a cage with a sharp ridged floor on
which he could not stand, sit, or lie without torment, of great value
in extorting confessions. The record of their deeds has been published
by Dr. F. Leitschuh,[311] librarian of Bamberg, and contains, among
other cases, that of the Burgomaster, John Junius, which throws more
light on the nature of the witch trials than do volumes of second-hand
history.[312]

John Junius, a man universally respected, had been five times
Burgomaster of Bamberg, and held that office in June 1628, when he was
arrested on a charge of sorcery. He protested his innocence though
six witnesses declared, under torture, that they had seen him at the
witch dances. On June 30 he endured the torment of the thumb-screws and
leg-crushers (Spanish boots) without confession. Then they stuck pins
in him and found a ‘devil’s mark’, and finally drew him up with his
arms twisted backwards, but he would admit nothing. Next day, however,
when threatened with a repetition of the torture, he broke down, made
the usual confession (including intercourse with a female demon who
turned into a he-goat), and denounced twenty-seven persons whose names
and addresses are given.[313] He was condemned to be beheaded and
burnt, but before his death wrote the following letter to his daughter:

    ‘Many hundred thousand good-nights, my dearest daughter Veronica!
    Guiltless was I taken to prison, guiltless have I been tortured,
    guiltless I must die. For whoever comes here must either be a
    sorcerer, or is tortured until (God pity him) he makes up a
    confession of sorcery out of his head. I’ll tell you how I fared.
    When I was questioned the first time, there were present Dr. Braun,
    Dr. Kötzendörffer, and two strangers. Dr. Braun asked me, “Friend,
    how came you hither?” I answered, “Through lies and misfortune.”
    “Hear you,” said he, “you’re a sorcerer. Confess it willingly or
    we’ll bring witnesses and the executioner to you.” I said, “I am
    no sorcerer. I have a clear conscience on this matter, and care
    not for a thousand witnesses, but am ready to hear them.” Then the
    chancellor’s son, Dr. Haan, was brought out. I asked, “Herr Doctor,
    what do you know of me? I never had anything to do with you, good
    or bad.” He answered, “Sir, it is a judgement matter, excuse me
    for witnessing against you. I saw you at the dances.” “Yes, but
    how?” He did not know. Then I asked the commissioners to put him on
    oath, and examine him properly. “The thing is not to be arranged
    as you want it,” said Dr. Braun; “it is enough that he saw you.”
    I said, “What sort of witness is that? If things are so managed,
    you are as little safe as I or any other honourable person.” Next
    came the chancellor and said the same as his son. He had seen me,
    but had not looked carefully to see who I was. Then Elsa Hopffen.
    She had seen me dancing on Haupt’s moor. Then came the executioner
    and put on the thumb-screws, my hands being tied together, so that
    the blood spurted from under the nails, and I cannot use my hands
    these four weeks, as you may see by this writing. Then they tied
    my hands behind and drew me up. I thought heaven and earth were
    disappearing. Eight times they drew me up and let me fall so that I
    suffered horrible agony. All which time I was stark naked, for they
    had me stripped.

    ‘But our Lord God helped me, and I said to them, “God forgive
    you for treating an innocent man like this; you want not only to
    destroy body and soul, but also to get the goods and chattels.” [At
    Bamberg, two-thirds of the property of convicted sorcerers went to
    the bishop, and the rest to the inquisitors.] “You’re a rascal,”
    said Dr. Braun. I replied, “I am no rascal, but as respectable as
    any of you; but if things go on like this, no respectable man in
    Bamberg will be safe, you as little as I or another.” The doctor
    said he had no dealings with the devil. I said, “Nor have I. Your
    false witnesses are the devils, your horrible tortures. You let no
    one go, even though he has endured all your torments.”

    ‘It was Friday, 30th June, that, with God’s help, I endured these
    tortures. I have ever since been unable to put my clothes on or use
    my hands, besides the other pains I had to suffer innocently.

    ‘When the executioner took me back to prison, he said to me, “Sir,
    for God’s sake confess something, whether true or not. Think a
    little. You can’t stand the tortures they’ll inflict on you, and
    even if you could you wouldn’t escape, though you were a count, but
    they’ll go through them again and again and never leave you till
    you say you are a sorcerer, as may be seen by all their judgements,
    for all end alike.” Another came and said the bishop had determined
    to make an example of me which would astonish people, and begged me
    for God’s sake to make up something, for I should not escape even
    though I were innocent, and so said Neudecker and others.

    ‘Then I asked to see a priest, but could not get one.... And then
    this is my confession as follows, but all of it lies.

    ‘Here follows, dearest child, what I confessed that I might escape
    the great torments and agonies, for I could not have endured them
    any longer. This is my confession, nothing but lies, that I had to
    make on threat of still greater tortures, and for which I must die.

    ‘“I went into my field, and sat down there in great melancholy,
    when a peasant girl came to me and said, ‘Sir, what is the matter?
    Why are you so sorrowful?’ I said I did not know, and then she sat
    down close to me, and suddenly changed into a he-goat and said,
    ‘Now you know with whom you have to do.’ He took me by the throat
    and said, ‘You must be mine, or I’ll kill you.’ Then I said, ‘God
    forbid.’ Then he vanished and came back with two women and three
    men; bade me deny God, and I did so, denied God and the heavenly
    host. Then he baptized me and the two women were sponsors; gave me
    a ducat, which turned into a potsherd.”

    ‘Now I thought I had got it over, but they brought in the
    executioner, and asked where I went to the witch dances. I did not
    know what to say, but remembered that the chancellor and his son
    and Elsa Hopffen had mentioned Haupt’s moor and other places, so I
    said the same. Then I was asked whom I had seen there. Replied I
    did not recognize any. “You old rascal, I must get the executioner
    to you. Was the chancellor there?” Said “Yes.” “Who else?” “I
    recognized none.” Then he said, “Take street by street, beginning
    from the market.” Then I had to name some persons. Then Long
    Street. I knew nobody; had to name eight persons.... Did I know
    any one in the castle? I must speak out boldly whoever it was.
    So they took me through all the streets till I could and would
    say no more. Then they gave me to the executioner to strip, shave
    off my hair, and torture me again. “The rascal knows a man in the
    market-place, goes about with him daily, and won’t name him.” They
    meant Dietmeyer, so I had to name him.

    ‘Next they asked what evil I had done. I replied, “None.” The
    devil bade me to, and beat me when I refused. “Put the rascal on
    the rack.” So I said I was told to murder my children but killed
    a horse instead. That wasn’t enough for them. I had also taken a
    sacramental wafer and buried it. When I said this they left me in
    peace.

    ‘There, dearest child, you have all my confession, for which I must
    die, and it is nothing but lies and made-up things, so God help me.
    For I had to say all this for fear of the tortures threatened me,
    besides all those I had gone through. For they go on torturing till
    one confesses something; be he as pious as he will, he must be a
    sorcerer. No one escapes, though he were a count. And if God does
    not interfere, all our friends and relations will be burnt, for
    each has to confess as I had.

    ‘Dearest child, I know you are pious as I, but you have already had
    some trouble, and if I may advise, you had better take what money
    there is and go on a pilgrimage for six months, or somewhere where
    you can stay for a time outside the diocese till one sees what
    will happen. Many honourable men and women in Bamberg go to church
    and about their business, do no evil, and have clear consciences as
    I hitherto, as you know, yet they come to the witch prison, and if
    they have a tongue to confess, confess they must, true or not.

    ‘Neudecker, the chancellor, his son, Candelgiesser, Hofmeister’s
    daughter, and Elsa Hopffen all denounced me at once. I had no
    chance. Many are in the same case, and many more will be, unless
    God intervenes.

    ‘Dear child, keep this letter secret so that nobody sees it, or I
    shall be horribly tortured and the gaoler will lose his head, so
    strict is the rule against it. You may let Cousin Stamer read it
    quickly in private. He will keep it secret. Dear child, give this
    man a thaler.

    ‘I have taken some days to write this. Both my hands are lamed. I
    am in a sad state altogether. I entreat you by the last judgement,
    keep this letter secret, and pray for me after my death as for your
    martyred father ... but take care no one hears of this letter. Tell
    Anna Maria to pray for me too. You may take oath for me that I am
    no sorcerer, but a martyr.

    ‘Good-night, for your father, John Junius, will see you never more.

    24th July, 1628.’

On the margin is written:

    ‘Dear child, six denounced me: the chancellor, his son, Neudecker,
    Zaner, Ursula Hoffmaister, and Elsa Hopffen, all falsely and on
    compulsion as they all confessed. They begged my pardon for God’s
    sake before they were executed. They said they knew nothing of me
    but what was good and loving. They were obliged to name me, as I
    should find out myself. I cannot have a priest, so take heed of
    what I have written, and keep this letter secret.’

The letter is still preserved, with its crippled handwriting, in the
library at Bamberg. This case is beyond comment. It is like the trial
of Faithful at Vanity Fair, but with rack and thumb-screw in place of
a jury. Yet it is but a moderate sample of those outrages on justice
and humanity called witch trials. Men rarely held out long, but, did
space permit, we might tell stories of many heroic women who endured
ten, twenty, even fifty repetitions of torture, till they died on the
rack or in the dungeon rather than falsely accuse themselves or their
neighbours.[314]

For when once arrested, the victim had small hope of acquittal, and in
the most favourable cases, when there was no external evidence, and no
amount of torture could induce a ‘confession’, the accused was sent
back friendless and crippled to her home, which she was forbidden to
leave, having first sworn to have no more dealings with the devil, and
to take no proceedings against her accusers. To acquit her would imply
that an innocent person had been tortured, a thing naturally repugnant
to the tender consciences of the inquisitors.

Nor was the mania confined to any special class. Protestants vied with
Catholics, and town councils with bishops in cruelty and injustice.
At Nördlingen they had a special set of torture instruments which the
Protestant town council lent to neighbouring district authorities, with
the pious observation that ‘by these means, and more especially by the
thumb-screw, God has often been graciously pleased to reveal the truth,
if not at first, at any rate at the last’.[315]

It is obvious from the above cases that the main cause of the
continuance of the witch-burnings, and of the number of the victims,
was the use of torture to obtain denunciations. The instances in which
insane persons accused themselves or others seem to have been fewer
than we might have expected.

Then, as now, there were melancholics who thought they had committed
the unpardonable sin, and in those days the unpardonable sin might
be represented by an imaginary compact with the devil. Then, as
now, the ‘mania of persecution’ was a prominent symptom in some
forms of insanity, and the idea of being bewitched by some old woman
corresponded to the modern dread of detectives, electric batteries, or
telephones.

Some of the supposed signs of witchcraft resemble those of mania and
melancholia. Thus maniacs sometimes collect dirt for money, and witches
often confessed that the devil’s money changed to dirt. Melancholics
mutter to themselves, look on the ground, and avoid society, all of
which were considered signs of witchcraft. But then red hair and
left-handedness were no less infallible indications.

Insanity and crime were indeed present at the witch trials, but they
were at least as obvious in the accusers and judges as in the victims,
and the first man who was bold enough to say so was Dr. John Weyer.
Though a few feeble protests may have been made by others, it was from
the medical profession that the first determined opposition came.
Mystics like Paracelsus and Cardan might encourage the superstition;
pious and able members of the profession like Ambroise Paré and Sir
Thomas Brown might give it their sanction, but it was the physician
Cornelius Agrippa who first successfully defended a witch at the
risk of his own life,[316] and it was his pupil John Weyer who first
declared open war against the witch-hunters and invoked the vengeance
of heaven upon their atrocities.

    ‘The feareful abounding at this time in this countrie of those
    detestable slaves of the divell, the witches or enchanters hath
    moved me (beloved reader) to dispatch in post the following
    treatise of mine, not in any wise (as I protest) to serve for a
    shewe of my learning and ingine, but only (moved of conscience to
    preasse thereby) so far as I can, to resolve the doubting hearts
    of manie both that such assaults of Satan are most certainly
    practised, and that the instruments thereof merit most severely
    to be punished, against the damnable opinions of two principally
    in our age, whereof the one called Scot, an Englishman, is not
    ashamed in public print to denie that there can be such a thing
    as witchcraft and so maintains the old error of the Sadduces in
    denying of spirits, the other called Wierus, a German physition
    sets out a publike apologie for all these crafts-folks, whereby
    procuring for their impunity, he plainly bewrayes himself to have
    been of that profession.’

Thus did our ‘British Solomon’, James I, commence his _Daemonologia_
(1598), a work directed against the two men who alone up to that time
had made a bold and open protest against the witch mania and its
abominations. Reginald Scot in his _Discovery of Witchcraft_ (1584)
took the view of a modern common-sense Englishman, that the whole thing
is absurd, a mixture of roguery and false accusations. Weyer, on the
other hand, his predecessor by twenty years, is a firm believer in the
activity of the devil, whose object, however, is not to get possession
of the souls of crazy old women, but by deluding them, to convert pious
and learned lawyers and theologians into torturers and murderers.

Born about 1516 at Grave in Brabant, the son of a dealer in hops and
<DW19>s, Weyer was acquainted with the supernatural from his earliest
years, for they had a domestic ‘house cobold’ or _Poltergeist_, who was
heard tumbling the hop-sacks about whenever a customer was expected. At
seventeen years of age the boy was sent to study medicine as apprentice
to Cornelius Agrippa, an extraordinary man, long held to be a sorcerer,
who had recently incurred yet stronger suspicion by his heroic and
successful defence of a woman accused of witchcraft at Metz, and by his
fondness for a black dog called ‘Monsieur’ which scarcely ever left
him. The young Weyer used to take this animal out on a string, and
soon became convinced, to use his own words, that it was ‘a perfectly
natural male dog’.[317] He next went to Paris and thence to Orleans,
a university then famous for its medical school, where he took the
degree of M.D. in 1537. He commenced practice in Brabant, became public
medical officer at Arnheim in 1545, and in 1550 physician to Duke
William of Cleves. In 1563 he published his great work _De praestigiis
daemonum et incantationibus ac veneficiis_,[318] the object of which
is to show that so-called witchcraft is usually due to delusions of
demons, who take advantage of the weaknesses and diseases of women to
bring about impious and absurd superstitions, hatreds, cruelties, and
a vast outpouring of innocent blood, things in which they naturally
delight.

He proposes to treat the subject under four heads corresponding to
the four faculties, theology, philosophy, medicine, and law. In the
first section he attempts to show that the Hebrew word _Kasaph_ does
not mean ‘witch’ but ‘poisoner’, or at any rate that Greek, Latin,
and Rabbinical interpreters so vary, that no reliance can be placed
upon them. Moreover the law of Moses was given to the Jews ‘for the
hardness of their hearts’, and is by no means always to be used by
Christians.[319] Magicians and sorcerers do indeed still exist, as
in ancient Egypt, but these are always men, and usually rogues and
swindlers, such as was Faust, of whom Weyer gives us one of the
earliest and most authentic notices. Faust, he says, was once arrested
by Baron Hermann of Batoburg, and given in charge of his chaplain, J.
Dursten, who hoping to see some sign or wonder, treated him with much
kindness, giving him the best of wine. But all he got out of him was
a magic ointment to enable him to shave without a razor, containing
arsenic, and so strong that it brought not only the hair but the skin
from the reverend gentleman’s cheeks. ‘The which he has told me more
than once with much indignation.’[320]

Weyer, however, firmly believes that the devil may assist sorcerers,
such as Faust, in some of their feats, though he does this chiefly by
deluding the eyes of the spectators. He may also delude women into the
belief that they have been at witch dances and caused thunder-storms,
&c., but his greatest deception is to make men believe in the reality
of witchcraft and so torture and murder the innocent.[321] Women are
more liable to his deceptions owing to their greater instability both
of mind and body, and the delusion may be favoured by the use of
drugs and ointments, especially those containing belladonna, lolium,
henbane, opium, and even more by herbs recently introduced from east
and west, such as Indian hemp, datura, ‘and the plant called by
the Indians “tabacco”, by the Portuguese “peto”, and by the French
“nicotiana”’.[322]

As for the supposed compact with the devil, it is an absurdity only
surpassed by the belief in sexual intercourse with demons. This
delusion, Weyer points out, may be explained medically by the phenomena
of nightmare and the effects of certain drugs, and is not sanctioned
by Scripture. For, though holy men such as Lactantius, Justin Martyr,
and Tertullian have maintained that the ‘sons of God’ mentioned in
Genesis vi. 2 were spirits, this interpretation is opposed by still
more eminent theologians, such as Saints Jerome, Gregory Nazianzen,
and Chrysostom, though he is obliged to admit that St. Augustine
believed in _incubi_ and _succubae_,[323] and that distinguished living
theologians hold that Luther’s father was literally the devil. This,
however, says Weyer, is an unfair and prejudiced way of attacking the
Lutheran heresy.[324]

People who fancy themselves bewitched are really possessed or assaulted
by the devil, as were Job and the demoniacs of the New Testament. If
these demoniacs had lived in our days, he remarks, they would probably
have each cost the lives of numerous old women.[325] The strange
objects vomited by such persons are either deceptions or put into the
person’s mouth by the devil, as is shown by there being no admixture
of food, and the absence of pain or injury in spite of the size of the
objects.[326]

A girl near Cleves fell into convulsions with clenched hands and teeth
which, according to her father, could only be opened by making the sign
of the cross. She also complained of pains for which it was necessary
to buy a bottle of holy water from a priest at Amersfort, on drinking
which she proceeded to vomit pins, needles, scraps of iron, and pieces
of cloth. She spoke in an altered boyish voice, intended for that of a
demon, and declared the whole was caused by an ‘in my opinion honest
matron’, who was imprisoned with her mother and two other women.

Weyer undertook the case, ‘whereupon she said in her boy’s voice she
would have nothing to do with me, and that I was a cunning fellow.
“Look what sharp eyes he has.”’ Weyer opened her hands and mouth,
without making the sign of the cross, ‘not that I would in any way
speak irreverently thereof’. He also showed that the objects produced,
even soon after eating, were free from admixture of food, and had
therefore never been farther than the mouth; and he thus obtained the
release of the four women after a month’s imprisonment.[327]

As for the stories of men changed into animals, they are partly poetic
and moral allegories, as the sailors of Ulysses, and partly a form of
insanity long recognized by physicians, and termed lycanthropy.[328]

Many think they are possessed when they are only melancholic, and
others pretend to be so to excite interest and obtain money. Those who
fancy themselves attacked by devils should, instead of accusing their
neighbours, take to themselves the armour of God as described by St.
Paul. Unfortunately, spiritual pastors, in their ignorance and greed,
teach that not only diabolical possession, but even ordinary diseases
are to be cured by charms, incantations, palm branches, consecrated
candles, and an execrable abuse of scriptural words. Cures are, indeed,
sometimes so produced, but are really due to the imagination.

Persons supposed to be possessed should first be taken to an
intelligent physician, who should investigate and treat any bodily
disorder. Should spiritual disorders be also present he may then send
the patient to a pious minister of the Church, but this will often
be unnecessary. The devil is especially fond of attacking nuns, who
should be separated from the rest, and, if possible, sent home to their
relations.[329]

Here Weyer inserts several instances in his own experience.

Philip Wesselich, a monk of Knechtenstein near Cologne, an honest,
simple-minded man, was miserably afflicted by a spirit about the year
1550. Sometimes he was carried up to the roof, at others thrust in
among the beams of the belfry, often carried unexpectedly through the
wall (_plerumque per murum transferebatur inopinato_) and knocked about
generally. At length the spirit declared he was Matthew Duren, a former
abbot, condemned to penance for having paid an artist insufficiently
for a painting of the Blessed Virgin, so that the poor man went
bankrupt and committed suicide, ‘which was true’. He could only be
released if the monk went to Trèves and Aix and recited three masses in
the respective cathedrals. The theological faculty of Cologne advised
that he should do so, but the abbot Gerard, a man of firmness and
intelligence, told the possessed man that he was a victim of diabolical
deceptions, and that unless he put his trust in God, and pulled himself
together, he should be publicly whipped. Whereupon the monk did so, and
the devil left him and went elsewhere.[330]

A similar case was that of a young woman known to Weyer, who had
convulsions in church whenever the ‘Gloria in excelsis’ was sung in
German, and said she was possessed. It was observed, however, that she
looked about for a soft place to fall on. She was therefore sent for by
Weyer’s friend the Countess Anna of Virmont, who said she was about to
sing the chant, and that if the demon attacked her she would soon drive
him out. The young woman fell in the usual fit, on which the countess,
_prudens et cordata matrona_, with the aid of her daughter pulled up
her dress and gave her a good whipping. ‘She confessed to me afterwards
that it completely cured her.’ Extreme diseases, adds Weyer, require,
according to Hippocrates, extreme remedies, but care should be taken to
distinguish suitable cases.[331]

The last and most important section of the book treats of the
punishment of witches, who are to be carefully distinguished from
poisoners and magicians, such as Faust, who are often wealthy men and
spend much money in travel, books, &c., to learn diabolic arts; or
deceivers, such as the mason who buried wolves’ dung in a cattle stall,
and when the animals showed great excitement, said they were bewitched,
and offered to cure them for a consideration. Such men, when proved to
have done serious harm, are to be severely punished. The less guilty
should be admonished, and among them are those who spread superstitious
practices and persuade sick people that they are bewitched by some old
woman.

This is all that the laws of Church or State require, and is a
very different thing from seizing poor women possessed by diabolic
delusions, or on the malicious accusations or foolish suspicions of
the ignorant vulgar, and casting them into horrible dungeons, whence
they are dragged to be torn and crushed by every imaginable instrument
of torture, till, however guiltless they are, they confess to sorcery,
since it is better to give their souls to God in innocence, even
through flame, than longer endure the hideous torments of bloodthirsty
tyrants. And should they die under torture or in prison, the accusers
and judges cry out triumphantly that they have committed suicide, or
that the devil has broken their necks.

Here follows a burst of indignant eloquence which would have cost Weyer
dear had he fallen into the clutches of the witch-hunters, and which
may be given in the terse vigour of the original:

    ‘Sed ubi tandem is apparuerit quem nihil latet, Scrutator cordium
    et renum, ipsius abstrusissimae etiam veritatis Cognitor et Iudex,
    vestri actus palam fient, O vos praefracti tyranni, O iudices
    sanguinarii, hominem exuti et caecitate ab omni misericordia
    procul remoti. Ad ipsius extremi iudicii tribunal iustissimum
    vos provoco, qui inter vos et me decernet ubi sepulta et culcata
    Veritas resurget vobisque in faciem resistet latrociniorum ultionem
    exactura.’[332]

Their credulity almost equals their cruelty, as shown by the belief
that a certain old woman caused the excessive cold of the preceding
winter, and by the absurd swimming test. What effect can denial of
faith, evil intentions, or a corrupt fantasy have upon a person’s
specific gravity, on which floating depends? Moreover, women usually
float, since their specific gravity is less than that of men, as
Hippocrates pointed out.[333] But nothing is too absurd for a witch
inquisitor. Some fishermen at Rotterdam drew up their nets full of
stones but fishless. This was clearly witchcraft, so they seized an
unfortunate woman who confessed in her terror that she had flown out
of the window through a hole the size of a finger-end, dived under the
sea in a mussel-shell,[334] and there terrified the fishes and put
stones in the nets. The woman, says Weyer, was evidently mad or deluded
by the devil, but they burnt her all the same. Treachery and cruelty
go together. A priest, having failed to make a witch confess, promised
that if she would admit some small act of sorcery, he would see that
she was released after some slight penance. Thereupon she confessed and
was burnt alive.[335]

In contrast to this, Weyer describes the method of dealing with
witchcraft in the duchy of Cleves. In 1563 a farmer, finding his cows
gave less milk than usual, consulted a witch-finder, who told him that
one of his own daughters had bewitched them. The girl, deluded by the
devil, admitted this and accused sixteen other women of being her
accomplices. The magistrate wrote to the duke proposing to imprison
them all, but the latter, probably at Weyer’s instigation, replied that
the witch-finder was to be imprisoned, the girl to be instructed by
a priest and warned against the delusions of demons, and the sixteen
women in no way to be molested.[336]

An old woman of eighty was arrested at Mons on charge of witchcraft,
the chief evidence being that her mother had long ago been tortured to
death on a similar charge. To make her confess they poured boiling oil
over her legs, which produced blisters and ulcers, and her son hearing
of it sent her a roll of lint to put round them. This was supposed to
make magic bandages by the aid of which the woman might escape, and the
son was promptly arrested. The mother was to be burnt in a few days,
and her son would probably have followed, when Weyer, by permission of
the Duke of Cleves, visited Count William of Mons and explained his
views on witchcraft. He also examined the old woman, who was so broken
down that she fainted several times, and finally obtained the release
of both.[337]

Theologians (says Weyer in conclusion) may object that he is only a
physician and bid him keep to his last. He can only reply that St. Luke
was a physician, and that he is one of those who hope by the mercy of
God and grace of Christ to attain that royal priesthood of which St.
Paul and St. John speak. Finally he is ready to submit all he has said
to the judgement of the Church, and to recant any errors of which he
may be convicted.

The Church answered by putting his name on the _Index_ as an _auctor
primae classis_, that is, one whose opinions are so dangerous
that none of his works may be read by the faithful without special
permission, while his book was solemnly burnt by the Protestant
University of Marburg.[338] The Duke of Alva, then engaged in his
notorious work in the Netherlands, used his influence to get Weyer
removed from his position at the court of Cleves. In this he was
aided by the duke’s increasing melancholia and ill health, which were
considered by many a judgement upon him for his protection of Weyer
and neglect of witch-burning. In 1578 Weyer resigned his post to his
son Galen, and in 1581 witch-hunting commenced in the duchy of Cleves.
Weyer, however, as befitted the chivalrous defender of outraged
womanhood, enjoyed the friendship and protection of Countess Anna of
Techlenburg, at whose residence he died, 1588, aged seventy-two.

The work on _The Deceptions of Demons_ has been aptly compared to a
torch thrown out into the darkness, which for a moment brightly illumes
a small space and then disappears. It made a temporary sensation, and
was welcomed by a few of the more enlightened spirits of the time;
it saved the lives of some unfortunate women (being successfully
quoted the very year after publication in defence of a young woman
at Frankfort, who confessed she had flown through the air and had
intercourse with the devil), and it marks the beginning of an open and
persistent opposition to the witch mania. Spee also has a curious story
showing the influence of Weyer’s book:

    ‘A great prince invited two priests to his table, both men of
    learning and piety. He asked one of them whether he thought it
    right to arrest and torture persons on the evidence of 10 or 12
    witches. Might not the devil have deceived them in order to make
    rulers shed innocent blood, as certain learned men had lately
    argued, “thereby causing us pangs of conscience”? The priest
    stoutly maintained that these pangs were needless, for God would
    never allow the devil to bring innocent men to a shameful and
    horrible death in this way; and so he (the prince) might continue
    the witch trials as usual. He persisted in this, till the prince
    said, “I am sorry, my father, you have condemned yourself and
    cannot complain were I to order your immediate arrest, for no less
    than 15 persons have sworn you were with them at the witch dances”,
    and he produced the records of their trials in proof. Then the good
    man stood like butter in the sun in the dog-days, and had nothing
    more to say for himself.’[339] #/

But it had little effect on the superstition itself, which reached
its height during the following half-century; and the author is
compelled by his religious beliefs to admit so much that his position
is hardly tenable. Indeed, his premisses had already been granted by
the witch-hunters themselves. The jurist Molitor, for instance, admits
that much witchcraft is imaginary and due to the deceptions of demons,
but while the physician argues that these deceptions are rendered
possible by disease, and are themselves largely of the nature of
disease, so that the victims deserve pity and medical treatment rather
than burning, the lawyer asserts that a person can only be so deceived
by his free will, and therefore a woman who believes she has made a
compact or had intercourse with the devil is as deserving of punishment
as if she had actually done so.[340]

Just over a century after the appearance of Weyer’s book (1664)

    ‘Sir Thomas Brown of Norwich, the famous physician of his time,
    was desired by my Lord Chief Baron [Hale] to give his judgement
    [in a case of witchcraft]. And he declared that he was clearly of
    opinion That the Fits were natural, but heightened by the devil
    co-operating with the malice of the witches at whose instance he
    did the villanies. And he added, That in Denmark there had been
    lately a great Discovery of Witches, who used the very same way of
    afflicting persons by conveying pins into them.’

The jury ‘having Sir Thomas Brown’s Declaration about Denmark for their
encouragement, in half an hour brought them in guilty.... They were
hanged maintaining their innocence.’[341]

Had Brown been better acquainted with _The Deceptions of Demons_ he
might have hesitated to make that ‘Declaration about Denmark’, but
Weyer’s early opponent, Bishop Binsfeld, has no difficulties. Quoting
Origen (in Matt. xvii. 15) he exclaims, ‘Physicians may say what they
like, we who believe the Gospel hold that devils cause lunacy’ and
many other diseases.[342] But for a demon to cause disease or do other
harm, two things are requisite, the permission of God and the free will
of some malicious person, witch, or sorcerer. The physician, Weyer,
has denied the possibility of a compact with the devil, but is easily
refuted by Scripture and Church authority. Did not the devil try to
make a compact with Christ Himself?[343] Similarly he has no difficulty
in showing that the Hebrew word for witch means much more than
‘poisoner’, and, given the almost universal beliefs of the age, it must
be admitted that Brown and the bishop have the best of the argument.

In the opening chapter of his well-known work on rationalism, Lecky
says that the decline of the belief in witchcraft ‘presents a spectacle
not of argument and conflict, but of silent evanescence and decay’;
it was ‘unargumentative and insensible’. Scot’s work ‘exercised no
appreciable influence’, and, so far as the result was concerned, he,
Weyer, and their like might as well have kept quiet and waited for
the change to be effected by ‘what is called the spirit of the age’,
that is, ‘a gradual insensible yet profound modification of the habits
of thought’ due to ‘the progress of civilization’. This theory has
been ably criticized elsewhere.[344] The truth it contains seems to
be that argument would not have sufficed to change public opinion
about witchcraft, without the aid of changes in other matters, and
especially the development and success of scientific investigation.
Such discoveries as the motion of the earth and circulation of the
blood, when generally accepted (which was not till late in the
seventeenth century), showed that the learned as well as the vulgar
might be utterly mistaken in important beliefs supported by apparently
good evidence, and that scientific methods of attaining truth differed
widely from those of the witch-hunters.

The progress of civilization by practically abolishing the use of
torture would alone have immensely diminished the number of victims,
and of those ‘confessions’ on which the belief was fed. To use military
language, the witch mania was an ugly and formidable redoubt connected
with other forts and entrenchments. It suffered somewhat from the
bombardment by Weyer and Scot, but could only be finally demolished by
a general advance of the forces of science and civilization. But if
every one had trusted to ‘the spirit of the age’ rather than disturb
his neighbours’ beliefs, we might still be burning our grandmothers.

Though born in what is now Holland and educated in France, German
writers claim Weyer as their countryman and compare him with Martin
Luther. The monk of Wittenberg is indeed a fine figure with his ‘Here
stand I; I cannot otherwise, God help me!’ But he had half Germany
behind him; both princes and populace were ready to protect him. Weyer
stood practically alone, and if he escaped being burnt by jurists and
theologians, had a fair chance of being lynched by an enraged mob as a
sorcerer and protector of witches. There was little to save him from
torture and death but the strength of mind of Duke William of Cleves,
who came of an insane family and already showed signs of melancholia.

Weyer was happily spared such a trial of his fortitude, but none
the less does he deserve our admiration as the chivalrous champion
of womanhood, who first, with vizor up and lance in rest, greeted,
alas! not, like the knights of legend, by prayers and blessings but
by threats and imprecations, went forth to do open battle with the
hideous monster which had so long tortured and slain the innocent and
helpless.

[Illustration: Plate XLI. THE BODLEIAN MANUSCRIPT

MS. MARSH 379 fo. 73]




             THE ‘TRACTATUS DE CAUSIS ET INDICIIS MORBORUM’

                              كتاب الاسباب والعلامات

                        ATTRIBUTED TO MAIMONIDES

                             By Reuben Levy


Among modern authorities on Arabian medicine, the opinion has been
widely held that the position of Maimonides as a medical writer must
depend mainly upon an unpublished work from his hand, known as the
_Tractatus de Causis et Indiciis Morborum_.[345] It is here sought
to demonstrate that the Bodleian MS. (Marsh 379), hitherto regarded
as containing this work, is in reality by another author, while the
Paris MS. (Bibliothèque Nationale, Ancien Fonds 411),[346] the only
other alleged copy of the _Tractatus de Causis et Indiciis Morborum_,
contains in fact no such work. Moreover, evidence will be adduced
showing that it is not probable that Maimonides composed a treatise of
this scope.

For their information concerning the _Tractatus_, the modern
bibliographers evidently rely entirely on entries in the catalogues of
the respective libraries. The 1739 Catalogue of Arabic and Hebrew MSS.
in the Bibliothèque Nationale contains the following entry:[347] ‘Codex
bombycinus, Aleppo in bibliothecam Colbertinam anno 1673 illatus, quo
continetur R. Mosis Maemonidae de morborum causis et illorum curatione
tractatus, Arabice, charactere Hebraico.’ Careful examination of
the manuscript disclosed the fact that it contained no fewer than
four works of Maimonides, viz. on Poisons,[348] on Asthma,[349] the
_Tractatus de Regimine Sanitatis_,[350] and the _Tractatus de Morbo
Regis Aegypti_,[351] all bound together in confusion.[352] All these
are known to be by Maimonides, and there is nothing besides them in the
volume.

There has always been a good deal of confusion about the works _de
Regimine Sanitatis_ and _de Morbo Regis Aegypti_. The former is
variously known as _de Regimine Sanitatis, de Cibo et Alimento, de
Dietetica_, ‘the letter to the Sultan’, or as ‘the Consultation
concerning (the Sultan) Al Afḍal’.[353] The latter also has a number
of titles, such as _de Causis Accidentium,[354] de Morborum Causis et
Curatione_, and _Responsum ad Regem Raqqa_, in addition to its title
of _de Morbo Regis Aegypti_. In 1514, in Venice the two treatises were
printed together in Latin as one work.[355]

Leclerc[356] has made confusion worse confounded by saying that ‘ce
que l’on a désigné sous les titres, _De Morbo Regis Aegypti, De Causis
Accidentium, De Causis et Indiciis Morborum, De Cibo et Alimento_,
ne sont autre chose que tout ou partie du même ouvrage’.[357] No
doubt he was led into making this statement partly by the fact that
Wüstenfeld[358] gives the title of _de Causis et Indiciis Morborum_
both to the Bibliothèque Nationale MS. (which Leclerc knew as _de
Causis Accidentium_) and to the Bodley MS.

The entry concerning the latter in Uri’s Bodleian Catalogue of
1787[359] reads as follows:

    ‘Codex bombycinus, anno Hegirae 765, Christi 1363 exaratus, folia
    116 implens. Comprehendit succinctum de omnium corporis humani
    morborum causis, signis et remediis tractatum ab Ibn Hobaish
    Hierosolymitano ex Hebraica lingua in Arabicam conversum, cui
    sectiones sex supra centum sunt. Initium fit a morbis capitis;
    finis in elephantiasi. Composuit Musa Ben Maimun Alcortubi,
    Israelita. [Marsh 379.]’

The MS. bears upon one of its pages the title

        هذا كتاب الاسباب والعلامات الحكيم
        ’موسى بن ميمون القرطبي الاسرايلي

‘This is the book of the causes and symptoms, by the Doctor Mûsa ibn
Maimûn the Cordovan, the Israelite.’ (Plate XLI.)

As a matter of fact it is no such thing. This title, together with
an extra title-page and colophon in the same hand, is a much later
addition to the MS., which also has a fragment of some other medical
work--at present unidentified--bound up with it. The folios of the MS.
which deal with the _Tractatus_ have been bound together in extreme
disorder, but examination of them has shown that they really form a
fragment of the second book of ‫المختار قي الطبّ‬, the _Delectus de
Medicina_, by ‫مهذب الدين ابو الحسن على بن احهد البغدادي‬, Muhaḏḏib ed
Din Abu’l Hasan Ali Ibn Aḥmad of Bagdad.[360]

Ibn Abi ‛Uṣaibia (1203-1269)[361] gives a life of this writer and
a list of his works, which includes the _Delectus de Medicina_.
According to him, Muhaḏḏib ed Din was born at Bagdad in A.H. 515 (=
A.D. 1121), and after studying medicine and philosophy settled at
Mosul. Later he became the physician of the Shah Arman, chieftain
of Khalāt on Lake Van in Armenia, in whose service he amassed great
wealth. He completed the _Delectus_ at Mosul in the year A.H. 560
(= A.D. 1164), and died there in A.H. 610 (= A.D. 1213), with the
reputation of being first physician of his time.

Another fragment of the same work of Muhaḏḏib ed Din, which includes
most of the contents of the Bodleian MS., besides a good deal of
material which has been lost from the latter, exists in the British
Museum.[362] The Leyden Library contains a unique copy of the work in
three books. This is claimed to be complete by the Catalogue of the
library,[363] although Bar Hebraeus [1226-1286]--Catholicus of the
Jacobite (Monophysite) Church[364]--says that the work ran into four
parts.[365] The three books of the Leyden MS. treat (i) of generalities
(i.e. Anatomy, Physiology, and the general causes of disease), (ii) of
medicaments, and (iii) of particular diseases and their treatment.

The Bodleian and British Museum MSS. contain part of the third book,
which was probably in general use by itself as a dictionary of
medicine. The British Museum copy has only lost the earlier chapters
of this third part, but the Bodleian MS., although possessing a few
more chapters at the beginning, is far less complete in the other
portions.[366]

Wüstenfeld and the bibliographers that followed him have evidently
derived their information concerning these MSS. from the catalogues of
the Bodleian Library and of the Bibliothèque Nationale. No mediaeval
bibliographer has up to the present been found who mentions this book
of Maimonides.[367] Wüstenfeld’s usual authority for his statements
is the great thirteenth-century medical biographer, Ibn Abi ‘Uṣaibia.
But, though the latter gives a life of the Hebrew physician and a list
of his writings,[368] he makes no mention of the _Tractatus de Causis
et Indiciis Morborum_. Moreover, this _Tractatus_ has no place in Haji
Khalfa’s admirable bibliography of Arabic works, which contains notices
of four books bearing the title _De Causis et Indiciis Morborum_, not
one of which is by Maimonides. Lastly, neither the historian Al Qifty
in his _Classes philosophorum et astronomorum et medicorum_,[369] nor
Bar Hebraeus, who is said to have plagiarized him,[370] notice the work
in their sketches of the physician’s life.

The Bodleian MS. alleged to contain the _Tractatus_ is one of a
collection of over seven hundred volumes bequeathed to the library
on his death, November 2, 1713, by Narcissus Marsh, Archbishop
successively of Cashel, Dublin, and Armagh. Most of his Oriental MSS.
had been procured for him either in the East by Robert Huntington,
Bishop of Raphoe and chaplain to the English merchants at Aleppo, or
at the sale of Golius’s library at Leyden in October 1696.[371] Golius
was a Dutch orientalist, born at Leyden in 1596. He studied medicine
and Oriental languages at the University of Leyden, and after leaving
it he accompanied a French embassy to Morocco in 1622. He remained in
Morocco for two years, and while there collected various MSS. On his
return in 1624 he was appointed to the Chair of Arabic at Leyden, but
was allowed a period of leave for travel in the East before taking up
his appointment. He took with him a grant of money for the purchase of
MSS., and these to the number of over two hundred are now deposited
in the University Library at Leyden. On several occasions during his
travels in Arabia attempts were made by Arab chiefs to detain him for
his medical knowledge, but he returned safely and later wrote a number
of works mainly concerned with Arabic. He died in 1667.

Among the MSS. which Golius himself procured for the Leyden Library
was that of the _Delectus_. It is at least unlikely therefore that
such a profound Arabist, who was also a medical man, would have bought
the Bodley fragment for a genuine work of Maimonides; the primary
responsibility for the error thus probably rests with Huntington.
However that may be, it was Uri, in his catalogue of the Bodleian MSS.,
who first published the error, and from him it was passed on to the
modern bibliographers.

John Uri was a Hungarian who had studied Oriental literature under
Schultens at Leyden, and was recommended to Archbishop Secker for the
purpose of cataloguing the Bodleian Oriental MSS., by Sir Joseph Yorke,
then ambassador in the Netherlands.[372] Many years were occupied in
the preparation of the work, which appears to have commenced in 1766
and was not completed till 1787. In spite of the length of time which
Uri occupied in his task, his successor, Pusey, found sufficient errors
in it to fill sixty closely printed pages. In his preface to the
second volume of the Catalogue, issued in 1835,[373] Pusey complains
‘Urius vero MSS. haud raro negligenter exscripsit’, and says that on
re-examination of Uri’s work he discovered, ‘besides the errors which
Uri himself would have admitted, that nearly all the purchasers of
these books, Pocock alone excepted, had had spurious works foisted
on them by wily Orientals. He therefore looked through all the books
which Uri had enumerated, excepting the more common ones, to see if
they corresponded to their titles or not. By doing this he discovered
various irregularities. In some cases the titles had been covered
over with paper or obliterated with ink, or practically erased with a
knife. In others, by slight changes in the authors’ names, more famous
people were indicated as responsible for the works. Lastly, by changing
the pagination in some of the volumes fragments were represented as
complete works, and a few pages of one work were even occasionally
sewn on at the beginning of another.’[374]

Uri’s errors will be the more readily condoned when it is remembered
that he did not specialize on the Arabic MSS. alone, and that his
work seeks to catalogue, _for the first time_, a two hundred years’
accumulation of Oriental MSS., including Hebrew, Aramaic, Syriac,
Aethiopic, Arabic, Persian, Turkish, and Coptic writings. Nevertheless,
Uri’s entry with reference to the present MS. deserves some of Pusey’s
criticism. The MS. has three parts, each written in a different hand,
the first and most important part being the supposed _Tractatus de
Causis et Indiciis Morborum_, which covers folios 2-87. The second part
is a fragment of some as yet unidentified medical work (folios 88-115);
and the third, consisting of the first and last folios, gives us an
introduction and an end piece to the first part.

The alleged author and translator are named on the first page:

             هذا كتاب موسى ابن ميمون الفه
            للعموم قاطبا وقد نقله التميمي
     الشيخ سليمان الحبشى المكنا بابن حبيش
                   في مملكة القدس الشريغة
                           تم

    ‘This is the book of Mûsa ibn Maimûn which he put together as a
    compilation for general use. Al Tamimi, the sheikh Sulaiman the
    Abyssinian, known as Ibn Ḥubaish,[375] translated it in the noble
    city of Jerusalem. Finis.’

On the next page there is an introduction to the book which commences:

                    بسم الله الرحمان الرحيم
    قال موسى ابن ميمون القرطبى الاسرايلي الخ

    ‘In the name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate.
    So says Mûsa ibn Maimûn, the Cordovan, the Israelite,’ &c.

The whole of the passage is an extract from chapter vi of the Aphorisms
of Maimonides, adapted as a kind of introduction, and runs as follows:


           قد علمت في قولي هذا في قوة النفسيه والقوة الحيوانيه والقوة
                  الطبيعيه ولنسم الان في هذا الاصطلاح جميع افعال البدنيه
                 للانسان قول ان اشرف الافعال التنفس وبعده النبط والاحساس
                 واشرف الاحواس البصر ثم السمع وبعده الاحساس شهوة الطعام
   والشراب وبعد ذلك الكلام وبعد ذلك التمييز اعني الذي بها التفل‭(_sic_)‬
         والفكر وبعد ذلك الحلافه لساير الاعضاء علي المعتادة وهذه الرتبة
                 في شرف انما هي بحسب ضرورية الحيوة او صالحية فتعلم ان
  الطبيعة اسم مشترك يقال علي معنى كثيرة كالقوة المدبرة‭ (_sic_)‬الحيوان
                  ايضا طبيعية وما هو اشرف وتمسكت للاشرف في الاشراف وهذه
       الاسباب الذي قد رايناها ورتبناها وهو الابتداء في النزلات الزكاميه
                                                             من الراس

    _Trans._ ‘I teach in this discourse of mine concerning the animal
    power, the vital power, and the natural power, but we will here
    call all man’s bodily functions by one name. There is a saying that
    the noblest of the functions is breathing, next the pulse, and
    lastly the senses. Of the senses, the noblest is sight, which is
    followed by hearing. Following on the senses is the appetite for
    food and drink, after it being speech and then the mind; I mean
    that which contains the reason and the intellect. Next comes the
    [?] allocation of [the various powers to] the other parts of the
    body according to the customary manner. This arrangement in order
    of nobility is only according to the requirements of life or [?]
    health.

    ‘You will recognize that “nature” is an equivocal term which can
    be used in many meanings. [One of these meanings,] for example, is
    “the motive power of animals”. So, too, is “natural”.

    [??...] ‘and that which is nobler. And you will retain the noblest
    of the noble [functions]. And these causes which we have noticed
    we have set down in their order; and the beginning is concerning
    catarrhal discharges from the head.’

Compare with this the real text of Maimonides:[376]

                   קד עלמת קול אלאטבא קוי׳ נפסאניה וקוי׳ חיואניה וקוי׳ טביעיה.‏‎
         ולנפס אנא אלאן פי הדה אלאצטלאח גמיע אפעאל בדן אלאנסאן אלאפעאל
       אלבדניה [ואשרף אלאפעאל אלתנפש ובעדה אלנבט[377]] ובעדה אל אחסאס.‏‎
              ואשרף אלחואס אלבצר. תם אלסמע ובעד אלאחסאס שהוה אלטעאם
            ואלשראב. ובעד דאלך אלכלאם. ובעד דאלך אלתמייז. אעני בה אלתכייל
  ואלפכר ובעד דאלך חדכה סאיר אלאעצא עלי מעתאדהא והדה אלרטבה‪(sic)[378]‬
               פי אלשרף אנמא הי בחסב צרוריה אלחיאה או צלאחיה אסתמראהא״
               ובעד הדה אלמקדמה פלתעלם אן אלטביעה אסם משתרך יקאל עלי
             מעאני כתירת ומן גמלה תלך אלמעאני אלקוה אלמדברה לבדן אלחיואן
                פאנהא אלאטבא יסמונהא איצי טביעה והדב אלקוה הי איצי . . . . . .‏‎
              פאן גלבת ען דלך בדלת מא הוא אשרף ותמסכת באלשרף פאלאשרף
                                  .ובחסב הדה אלתרתיב יעלם אלמרץ אלח׳

    ‘Thou knowest the opinion of the physicians [concerning] animal
    power, vital power, and natural power. But it is my intention
    here to call all the functions of man’s body by the one name of
    “bodily functions”. [The noblest of the functions is breathing,
    next the pulse,[377]] and lastly the senses. Of the senses, the
    noblest is sight, which is followed by hearing. Following on the
    senses is the appetite for food and drink, after it being speech
    and then the mind, by which I mean the thoughts and the intellect.
    Next comes the motion of the other parts of the body according to
    their customary manner. This arrangement in order of nobility is
    only according to the requirements of life or the health of its
    faculties.

    ‘From this preface you will recognize that “nature” is an equivocal
    term which can be used in many meanings. One of these meanings [for
    example] is “the motive power in the bodies of animals” which the
    physicians call “nature” too.... And if you discover this, you will
    exchange that which is nobler and retain that which is noblest. By
    means of this process of arrangement, a disease can be recognized,’
    &c.

This introduction was added when the folios stood in a state of
disorder different from their present one. The catchword at the bottom
of the page [وهذا = and this] points forward to the title already
mentioned,[379] which appears on folio thirty-nine of the present
arrangement. The text below this title is part of the chapter on
discharges and catarrh, so that the folio once followed immediately on
the introduction, being then, too, out of its proper place.

The last page, written in the same hand as the introduction, bears a
piece of some unidentified work and a colophon which reads:

           وقد تم هذا الكتاب الشريف تاليف موسى ابن ميمون القرطبى
   الاسرايلى رحمه الله مما الف وجرب هذا الكتاب المبارك وعدد فصوله
     امراض البدن مما رتبه على اوضاعه (_sic_)مائة وست فصول للجميع
               سبع مالة وخمسة وستين (_sic_)٦٥٢٧ تم الكتاب فى سنة

    ‘This noble book is finished; the composition of Mûsa ibn Maimûn
    the Cordovan, the Israelite, to whom God be gracious. This blessed
    book is part of that which he composed and tested. The number of
    its chapters is 106, dealing with all the diseases of the body,
    which he arranged in their proper order.

    ‘The book was completed in the year 765.’[380]

The number 106, which according to the colophon is the number of
chapters in the book, is really the number of titles in the MS. written
in large hand. Fragments of many chapters whose titles are lost still
remain in it however, while many of the chapters that have preserved
their titles are no longer complete.

Again it may be pointed out that all the known medical works of
Maimonides were written in Arabic and therefore did not need to be
translated into that language as the Bodleian MS. claims to have been.
The spurious title-page thus further betrays itself by saying that this
work was translated from _Hebrew_.

Finally, the identification of the real contents of the Paris MS.
disposes of the last foundation of the idea that Maimonides wrote any
compendium of medicine known as ‫كتاب الاسباب والعلامات‬ (_Tractatus de
Causis et Indiciis Morborum_), and clears up the confusion caused by
the faulty entries in the Paris and Bodleian catalogues.




                 SCIENTIFIC DISCOVERY AND LOGICAL PROOF

                          By F. C. S. Schiller


§ 1. Among the obstacles to scientific progress a high place must
certainly be assigned to the analysis of scientific procedure which
Logic has provided. This analysis has not only been inadequate in
itself, but has set itself a mistaken aim. It has not tried to describe
the methods by which the sciences have actually advanced, and to
extract from their experience the logical rules which might be used to
regulate scientific progress, but has treated scientific discoveries
almost entirely as illustrations of a preconceived ideal of proof,
and so has freely rearranged the actual procedure in accordance with
its prejudices. For the order of discovery there has been substituted
an order of ‘proof’, and this substitution has been justified by the
assumption that if discovery had taken the ideally best course, it
would have coincided with the process of proof. It followed, of course,
that the same logic would do for both, and that this logic was already
in existence.

The damage thus inflicted upon Science was twofold. Not only were the
logicians given a plausible excuse for persisting in their profound
misapprehension of scientific inquiry and rendered incapable of giving
any help or guidance in the solution of actual problems, but, what was
much worse, the scientists themselves were misled about the nature of
their operations.

The precise value of the service which a correct logical analysis
of its procedure might have rendered to Science is perhaps open to
dispute, though it must surely be beneficial to operate consciously,
and with a full understanding of their nature, the methods which have
been hit upon empirically; but even if logicians have commonly been
too unfamiliar with the details of scientific problems to offer much
practical advice, it would be difficult to overrate the mischiefs which
must have resulted from referring scientists to an incorrect analysis
of their actual procedures. For the attempt to justify by such a false
ideal what they had actually done was bound to divert their attention
from the methods that were actually effective and fruitful to others
which were impracticable and sterile, to waste energy upon false aims
and impossible ideals, and so to hamper scientists fatally in the
exercise of their scientific rights and powers.

Hence it is not too much to say that the more deference men of science
have paid to Logic, the worse it has been for the scientific value of
their reasoning, while the less they have troubled to know about the
theory of Science, the better it has been for their practice.

Fortunately for the world, however, the great men of science have
usually been kept in salutary ignorance of the logical tradition
and left to their own devices, by the accident that the historical
organization of academic studies nearly everywhere confined ‘logic’
to the literary curriculum. Nevertheless, the moral of this situation
is not that it is right for science to neglect logic and for logic to
despise science, but that science should appeal from logic as it is to
logic as it ought to be, and should insist on being provided with a
_reformed_ logic. For surely if a scientific education is to be more
than a narrow and technical specialty, and is to exert a ‘liberalizing’
and broadening effect on the mind, it _ought_ to include a study of
scientific method in its generality and a certain understanding of
the intellectual instruments by which all others are operated and
constructed.

The whole evidence for these contentions it will not, of course, be
possible to marshal within the limits of this essay, but the systematic
criticism to which the whole traditional logic has been subjected
in my _Formal Logic_[381] may perhaps absolve me from the duty of
substantiating them exhaustively. It may suffice to indicate the extent
of the scientific grievance against ‘logic’ by drawing up a list of
problems in the logic of science which the traditional logic has
misconceived, and then to select for fuller treatment a palmary example
of the radical discrepancy between the two.

The traditional logic may be convicted of having gravely
misrepresented, (1) the value of classification and the formation
of classes, scientific processes of which the real logic was only
revealed by the Darwinian theory, (2) the function of definition, (3)
the importance of analogy, (4) of hypothesis and (5) of fictions, (6)
the incomplete dependence of scientific results on the ‘principles’ by
which they are (apparently) obtained, (7) the formation of scientific
‘law’ and its relation to its ‘cases’, (8) the nature of causal
analysis. Other important features of scientific procedure cannot
be said to have been recognized at all, e.g. (9) the problem of
determining what is _relevant_ to an inquiry and what practically must
be, and safely may be, excluded, (10) the methods and justification of
_selection_, (11) the essentially _experimental_ nature of all thought
and consequent inevitableness of _risk_, (12) the necessity of so
conceiving ‘truth’ and ‘error’ that it is possible to _discriminate_
between them, and (13) the need for an inquiry into _meaning_ and into
the conditions of its communication.


I

§ 2. The most instructive, however, of the discrepancies between
‘logic’ and scientific procedure will appear if we compare the logical
notion of _proof_ with the scientific process of _discovery_, and
examine how far it can afford any means of regulating, stimulating, or
even apprehending the latter. We shall find that the logical theory of
‘proof’ has no bearing on the scientific process of discovery, is not
related to what the sciences call proof, and can only have a paralysing
influence on any scientific activities which try to model themselves
upon it. On the other hand, the study of the process of discovery will
point to an important correction in the notion of logic.

§ 3. The scientific uselessness of the traditional logic should not,
however, excite surprise. For what reason was there to expect that
the theory of proof should turn out to be adequate, or even relevant,
to scientific procedure? It had sprung from a totally different
interest, proceeded on different assumptions, and aimed at different
ends. It did not spring from interest in the exploration of nature,
and did not aim at its prediction and control. Nor did it presuppose
an incomplete system of knowledge which it was desired to extend and
improve. It originated in a very special context, from the social need
of regulating the practice of dialectical debate in the Greek schools,
assemblies, and law-courts. It was necessary to draw up rules for
determining which side had won, and which of the points that had been
scored were good.

These were the aims Greek logic set itself, and successfully achieved.
But the impress of this origin remains stamped all over it, and the
accounts given of logical proof ever since have retained essential
features of Greek dialectics.

Thus it was assumed that science could start from principles, as
indisputable as are the current meanings of words in a dialectical
debate, and the end of the whole theory of proof was always conceived
as being to secure the conviction (ἔλεγχος) of one party to a dispute,
who was to be definitely crushed by the triumphant cogency of a
syllogistic demonstration, while the more real and fruitful analogy
between scientific inquiry and debate, viz. that _there is always
another side_, to which also it is well to listen, was unfortunately
obscured by Aristotle’s discovery of the syllogistic form and its show
of conclusiveness. But for the purpose of apprehending scientific
procedure the syllogism is a snare: by putting scientific reasoning
into syllogisms, the difference between the true and the false
views is made to appear qualitative and absolute, instead of being
a quantitative question of more or less of scientific value. Thus
dogmatism is fostered at the expense of progressiveness, and the
mistake is committed of approaching the discovery of truth in a party
spirit. Hence its dialectical origin has become _fons et origo malorum_
for logic.

§ 4. It is true that this mistake is very old, and has grown deeply
into the fabric of logic. For Aristotle had no sooner worked out the
classic formulation of the rules of dialectical proof than he proceeded
to extend their scope by applying them to the theory of science, in
the _Posterior Analytics_. His instinct in so doing was sound enough;
for there is no better verification of a theory than its capacity to
bear extension to analogous cases. And of course if this extension had
been successful, it would have supported the belief that the theory of
discovery could profitably be amalgamated with that of proof.

Unfortunately, however, the verification only seemed to be successful.
Aristotle chose to exemplify his theory of scientific proof from the
mathematical sciences. His choice was natural enough, because they
were the only sciences which had reached any considerable development
in his day, and they had, moreover, an apparent necessity and
universality and a fascinating appearance of exactness. But he had
unwittingly chosen the most difficult and deceptive exemplification
of scientific procedure. Because the mathematical sciences were in a
relatively advanced condition they seemed to lend themselves to his
design. He could there find terms whose meaning, and principles whose
truth, was no longer in dispute. They could in consequence be argued
from with as much assurance as debaters could assume the recognized
meanings of words. And the fact that results seemed to follow from
mathematical definitions and premisses which were not merely verbal,
shed a delusive glory on the forms of dialectical proof by which they
had been reached. Hence it easily escaped notice that the logical
superiority of mathematics was an achievement, not a datum. Just
because the mathematical sciences were very ancient, their origins had
been forgotten, and with them the tentative gropings which had first
selected, and subsequently confirmed, their principles. They had become
immediately certain and ‘self-evident’, and no one was disposed to
dispute them. On this psychological fact the whole theory of logical
proof was erected.

Again, it was natural to suppose that the true nature of scientific
knowing must be revealed in its most perfect specimens: no one stopped
to reflect that even so the real difficulties of making a science are
more keenly felt and more easily seen in the nascent stage than in one
which has victoriously overcome them, and has rewritten its history in
the assurance of its prosperous issue.

Lastly, the subtle ambiguity which pervades all mathematical reasoning,
according as its terms are taken as _pure_ or as applied, was
overlooked entirely--with the disastrous result that the universality,
certainty, and exactness pertaining (hypothetically) to the ideal
creations of ‘pure’ mathematics were erroneously transferred to their
‘applied’ counterparts. To this day logicians are found to argue
that real space is homogeneous because it is convenient in Euclidean
geometry to abstract from the multitudinous deformations to which
bodies moving through it are subjected, and to leave them to be treated
by physics;[382] nor are they aware of any lack of ‘exactness’ and
discrimination when they identify the ideal triangle with the figures
they draw on the blackboard.

§ 5. After its apparent success in analysing mathematical procedure
there was no more disputing the supremacy of the theory of ‘proof’.
The facts that its field of application was soon found to be much
narrower than that of science, and that it failed egregiously to apply
to the procedures of the (openly) empirical sciences, and _a fortiori_
could not justify them, if they were noticed at all, were held merely
to show that these sciences stood on a low level of thought, which
from the loftier standpoint of logic could be contemplated only with
contempt; if they required help and got none, so much the worse for
them. Accordingly the whole theory of science was so interpreted,
and the whole of logic was so constructed, as to lead up to the
ideal of demonstrative science, which in its turn rested on a false
analogy which assimilated it to the dialectics of ‘proof’. Does not
this mistake go far to account for the neglect of experience and the
unprogressiveness of science for nearly 2,000 years after Aristotle?

§ 6. Yet the deplorable consequences of this error should not render us
unjust. The influence of Aristotelian logic on the theory of science
was natural, and in a sense deserved. For Aristotelian logic is perhaps
the mightiest discovery any man has achieved single-handed. Its
might is sufficiently attested by the length of its reign. Euclidean
geometry alone is comparable with it, and Euclid owed far more to his
predecessors than Aristotle. Moreover, the Aristotelian logic may be
said to have achieved its purpose. It was able to regulate dialectical
discussion. The syllogism did determine whether a disputant had proved
his case, and for any one who had accepted its assumptions its decision
was final, while even its severest critics had to admit that it was an
indisputable fact, the interpretation of which was a real problem.

Unfortunately, there is not yet any agreement among logicians about
the solution of this problem. Aristotle’s own analysis did not go back
far enough: he stopped short at the _Dictum de Omni_ and the reduction
of syllogisms in the second and third figures to the first. He did
not penetrate to the ultimate assumptions which were implied in the
dialectical purpose and social function of the syllogism. But the truth
is that syllogistic reasoning presupposes quite a number of conventions
which Aristotle did not state, and which can hardly be said to have
been adequately recognized since.

§ 7. (1) The first of these may be called the _Fixity of Terms_.
Syllogistic reasoning manifestly depends on the assumption that the
terms occurring in it have meanings sufficiently stable to stand
transplantation from one context to another; for only so can they
establish connexions between one context and another. Thus a syllogism
in _Barbara_ argues that because _all M is P_ and _all S is M, all S
must be P_. But it can do this ‘validly’ only if _M_, its middle term,
remains immutably itself, and is the same in both premisses. Doubt,
dispute, or confute this assumption, and the cogency of the syllogism
as a form of ‘proof’ is overthrown at once. If the sense in which _M is
P_ is not the same as that in which _S is M_, the syllogism breaks in
two, and its conclusion becomes precarious. Raise the question of how
far reality conforms to this assumption, and you get at once a subtle
problem of the applicability of the syllogistic form to the case in
hand, which is precisely analogous to the question whether a theorem
of pure mathematics is applicable to the behaviour of a real thing. In
either case the cogency of the ‘proof’ which establishes the conclusion
is impaired and ceases to be unconditional. The conclusion of a ‘valid’
syllogism will only follow _if_ the middle term can be known to be
unambiguous, and if the objects designated by the terms do not change
rapidly enough to defeat the inference. And that this is the case can
usually be ascertained only by actual experience. The conclusion,
therefore, cannot be simply deduced; it has actually to _come true_,
before we can be sure that the reasoning _was_ sound. Absolutely _a
priori_ proof thus becomes impossible, if the assumption of the fixity
of terms is contested: all proof becomes, in a sense, empirical.

Nevertheless, experience shows that the fixity of terms, though not a
‘fact’, is _a valid ‘fiction’_: in ordinary discussion the terms may
usually be taken as fixed enough to render valid syllogisms common. An
ordinary debate proceeds upon the assumption that the meaning of the
terms involved is fixed, and cannot be varied arbitrarily. To science,
however, this assumption does not apply without restriction. In a
progressive science the meaning of terms often develops so rapidly that
such verbal reasoning does _not_ suffice. Hence the mere occurrence of
verbal contradictions in a scientific reasoning is no proof that the
argument is unsound. It may show merely that its terms are _growing_.

It should be observed further that this same assumption is implied in
the fundamental ‘laws of thought’ on which the traditional logic rests.
Indeed, the notorious ‘Law of Identity’ seems to be merely another
statement of it. It is usually formulated as ‘_A is A_’, but in its
actual logical use it is really the assumption that ‘everything _is_
what it is called’. It is, of course, anything but self-evident that
‘_A_’ _is A_, but _unless_ the _S_, _M_, and _P_ of the syllogism are
_rightly_ so called, the syllogism will not hold. Similarly, the Law
of Contradiction collapses at once if the terms to which it is applied
are allowed to change. The inability of ‘_A_’ both to be _B_ and not to
be _B_ vanishes if ‘_A_’ is not fixed and may change its habits. And of
course the real things known to science all change, and are fixed only
by a fiction. Hence every application of the logical convention to real
things may be challenged: it involves a fiction and takes a risk, and
both of these may be bad. But the traditional logic ignores both the
risk and the fiction and the lack of cogency in its attitude.

§ 8. (2) It is a further presupposition of the syllogism that the
meaning of its terms is _known_. When a discussion is begun the
parties to it are supposed to understand each other, and not to have
first to find out and form the meaning of the terms they use. This
assumption also is roughly true in ordinary debate, and its convenience
is manifest. If things are rightly named, and if this feat has been
accomplished once for all--presumably by Adam and Eve before they were
turned out of Paradise for trying to know too much--we shall escape
many of the most trying difficulties of scientific inquiry. We need
no longer trouble whether the best names have been given, and whether
a name good for one purpose is equally good for another, nor need
we inquire whether our names may not unite what is alien on account
of a superficial likeness, or separate what is akin on account of a
superficial difference.

In science, on the other hand, the assumption that we know what
meanings our terms can convey is not made as a matter of course. We may
begin with roughly labelling objects of interest, and then inquiries
may be conducted into, e.g., ‘electricity’, ‘elements’, ‘life’,
‘species’, &c., in the hope of settling what these terms _shall_ mean,
and of finding out _more_ about their meaning, and without making the
assumption that whatever new facts are discovered about them must
conform to our preconceptions and confirm our nomenclature. Thus
to a man of science it will not be cogent to argue that because an
‘element’ is (by definition) an ultimate form of matter which cannot
be broken up, and ‘radium’ breaks up, ‘radium’ is not an ‘element’,
or that because ‘species’ are eternal forms, and the Darwinian theory
claims that they are not immutable, it can be dismissed as involving
the ‘contradiction’ that a ‘species’ is not a species. Thus the best
syllogisms lose their cogency so soon as a question is raised whether
the verbal identity of their terms is an adequate guarantee of the
real identity of the things they are applied to.

§ 9. (3) It is a further presupposition of the logician’s conception of
‘proof’ that absolute truths exist, and that in the ideal demonstration
they form the premisses from which the conclusion follows. This
presupposition is not stated, and is not implied in the form of the
syllogism. For a syllogism is no less ‘valid’ if its premisses are
true only hypothetically, and not absolutely. Indeed, it is not
thought to impair the ‘validity’ of a syllogism that its premisses
should be utterly false. At any rate we can _reason_ quite as well
with hypotheses and probabilities as with absolute truths, and this
is in fact what we usually do, whether or not we are aware that our
premisses are conditional and hypothetical. This ordinary practice,
however, is resented by the traditional logic. For if our premisses are
only hypothetically true, how can they lead to conclusions which can
be declared absolutely true? And if our conclusions are not absolutely
true, how can they be certain? Are they not bound to remain infected
with the doubts which beset their premisses?[383] As we value the
certainty of our conclusions, therefore, absolutely true and certain
premisses must be procured. If they cannot be procured, even the best
formal proofs will remain hypothetical, and all truth will become
dependent on experience. For if nothing is true absolutely, and every
truth has originated humbly in a guess that has grown into a successful
hypothesis, it can always be suggested that after all it may benefit by
a little more verification. It may be true enough psychologically and
for practical purposes, but it does not realize the ideal of ‘logical
certainty’.

§ 10. This ideal Logic has formulated from the first. Aristotle
already was not content with merely analysing the form of reasoning;
he aspired to formulate the norm of scientific demonstration. The
‘demonstrative syllogism’, which he held to be the form of truly
scientific reasoning, differs from the formal syllogism in two
essential respects. Its premisses are absolutely true, and its middle
term states the real ‘cause’, which connects its terms and is not
merely a _ratio cognoscendi_. The reasoning proceeds, therefore, from
premisses which are unambiguous, true, and certain, i.e. _necessarily_
true and _absolutely_ certain. Nor does the conclusion lose any of this
excellence. Logic puts on a fine air of modesty, and merely claims
that the syllogistic form is a guarantee that no truth can be _lost_
on the way from the premisses to the conclusion in a ‘valid’ argument.
If, therefore, our thought is properly arranged, our conclusion will be
as true and certain as were its premisses, and no man will be able to
gainsay it. It is the great beauty and merit of the syllogistic form
that it is an arrangement which gives us this guarantee.

It was natural, therefore, that throughout the history of logic
enormous importance should be attached to the acquisition of
unquestionable starting-points. For the possession of ‘valid forms’ was
not enough. It only insured against loss of truth, it did not provide
for its acquisition. It seemed, however, to imply that truth could only
be generated out of truth, and handed down from the premisses to the
conclusion. Hence the insistent demand for assured starting-points,
self-evident ‘principles’, which the infallible method of syllogistic
deduction might conduct to equally certain conclusions.

In reality, however, this demand for certainty was extra-logical: it
is not required for the purpose of analysing reasoning. For it is
just as easy to reason from doubtful and probable premisses as from
certainties, nor need the doubt in the reasoner’s mind affect the
form of the reasoning. If, however, there is an imperative desire for
certainty, it must be somehow gratified by logic. And there seemed to
be no way of doing so except by ascribing absolute truth and certainty
to the initial principles of science.

Of course it was covertly assumed that certainty could only be reached
by _starting_ from certainty, and that no possibility of a growth of
assurance in the progress of the reasoning could be entertained. In a
sense this assumption was correct (cf. §§ 27, 28), because it is true
that the gradual verification of scientific truths does not render them
absolute; but it led to neglect of all methods which appeared to start
with premisses initially doubtful and hardening into certainties by
gradual confirmation. No doubt it was not strictly impossible to reason
from premisses not known to be true, but such reasoning was despised
as ‘dialectical’, and no inquiry was made into the frequency of its
occurrence in actual science. Why, then, waste time upon so unworthy
a procedure, instead of fixing one’s whole attention upon the truly
logical ideal, the absolute proof of absolute truth? Let us maintain,
rather, the old Aristotelian[384] conviction that the truly scientific
syllogism proceeds from premisses that are true and underivative
(because ‘self-evident’) and inerrant, and demonstrates its conclusion
with ineluctable necessity! Thus the attainment of _absolute truth_
was unobtrusively smuggled in as the aim of reasoning, and became an
integral feature of the ideal of ‘demonstration’.

§ 11. From the standpoint of the scientific inquirer, however, this
whole theory of proof is open to the gravest objections. He finds
first that it is impracticable, being composed throughout of counsels
of perfection with which he cannot comply, and then that, even if he
could, they would be perfectly useless, and destructive of his aims.

(1) It strikes him at once that the Fixity of Terms is an obvious
_fiction_. He will of course be aware, from his scientific experience,
that fictions have their uses and are often indispensable; but he will
know also that not all fictions are useful, and that the adoption of a
fiction has in each case to be justified by its usefulness. Moreover,
it is not so much its immediate and prospective use which justifies it,
though this yields the usual motive for its adoption, as the ulterior
uses ascertained _ex post facto_ by experience.

He will ask, therefore, for evidence that an _absolute_ fixity of terms
is the vital necessity for logic it is declared to be. He will admit,
of course, the familiar arguments for a certain _stability_ of meanings
which have come down from the days of Plato, but he will suggest that
a _relative_ fixity of terms is quite sufficient to content them. He
will point out that in a progressive science any absolute fixity in its
terms is precluded by the very progress of the science. For the terms
in use must somehow manage to convey the _growing_ knowledge they are
employed to ‘fix’. The term ‘gas’, for example, must not be tied down
to the meaning Van Helmont desired to convey when he invented it; it
must incorporate all that physics has discovered about ‘gases’ ever
since. Similarly, when Darwinism transforms the notion of ‘species’,
and the discovery of radio-activity that of ‘atom’, these developments
of meaning must be recognized as perfectly proper. To object to
these conceptions as modern science uses them, on the ground that,
because to Plato and Aristotle species were eternal and immutable,
a ‘species’ that changes cannot be truly a species, or that because
an ‘atom’ is etymologically ‘indivisible’, it becomes an impossible
self-contradiction when it is made up out of ‘electrons’, will seem to
him to reveal only the fatuous pedantry of an utterly unscientific mind.

§ 12. (2) If he is acquainted with psychology, he will perceive also
that the fiction of the fixity of terms is subject to a further
restriction. It is not only in science as such--for all sciences
must be conceived as progressive--that the fixity of terms cannot
be made absolute: a real fixity is strictly inconceivable for and
in every human mind. For every term that is actually used to convey
a meaning must be held to form part of a _new_ truth,[385] i.e.
of a truth that was not previously in being. It is not a question
of principle whether the truth is supposed to be new only to the
person to whom it is addressed, or claims to be new to all, i.e. to
science. For no judgement would be made unless it had something new
to say.[386] Hence _every real judgement_, as opposed to the verbal
formulas which are called judgements in the logic-books, _more or
less modifies the meaning of its terms_. If it succeeds in being a
real judgement and a new truth, it establishes a new and previously
unknown relation between its subject and its predicate. ‘_S_’ is
henceforth an _S_-which-can-have-_P_-predicated-of-it, and ‘_P_’
a _P_-which-can-be-predicated-of-_S_. Thus both the psychological
associations and the logical associates of _S_ and _P_ are changed.
That logicians should not have noticed so obvious a fact can be
attributed only to their inveterate habit of not using in their
illustrations real judgements intended to cope with actual problems,
but operating with their verbal skeletons, which are not being used by
any one to convey his meaning, and so do not have any _actual_ meaning.

Clearly, then, no science can interpret the fixity of terms quite
literally. Or rather, it can only interpret it literally--as a matter
of the literal integrity of the _words_ that _may_ convey a meaning.
But in a scientific inquiry the convention of formal logic must be
reversed; the fixity of terms must be _understood_ not to be absolute,
but to be merely _ad hoc_ and sufficient to convey a definite meaning,
which it is desired to develop. Accordingly it must always be assumed
that the results of an inquiry are to modify its terms, and that it is
permissible, and indeed inevitable, to develop their meaning, so long
as they remain capable of expressing and conveying the new truth. We
must come to every inquiry with a willingness to learn and to expand
our terms. The Fixity of Terms, as it is tacitly presupposed in the
traditional logic, is a scientific blunder of the gravest kind.

§ 13. (3) To renounce it, however, entails further consequences. It
appears to undermine the whole notion of _formal validity_. For if we
admit in principle that the meaning of terms depends vitally on that
of the judgement in which they occur, how can we continue to rely
absolutely on the mere verbal identity of its terms to hold together a
syllogism? In any syllogism the middle term, _M_, may have one shade of
meaning in relation to _P_, another in relation to _S_. It may be quite
right to call _M_ _P_ in one connexion, and to call _S_ _M_ in another;
and yet, when the two assertions are put together, they may lead to
a conclusion which is an error or an absurdity. The man who (in his
laboratory) would rightly declare that ‘all salt is soluble in water’
and (at his dinner table) as properly hold that ‘all Cerebos is salt’,
could not combine these assertions to draw the conclusion that ‘all
Cerebos is soluble in water’, without finding that the facts confuted
his anticipation.

No doubt, when this had happened, he might explain it, _ex post facto_
(if he knew logic), by alleging a hidden ‘ambiguity of the middle
term’. We need not here discuss whether it is fair to treat as an
inherent ambiguity what is really a juxtaposition of shades of meaning
which were relative to different purposes and right in their original
contexts, thus manufacturing a fallacy by selecting the premisses: the
important thing is that the logician should be driven to admit that
_any_ middle term may become ambiguous in this way when a syllogism is
constructed, and that this completely stultifies his assumption that
the _verbal_ identity of the middle guarantees the _real_ identity of
the objects to which it refers.[387] If we call two things, which are
and must be different if they are to be two, both ‘_M_’, we necessarily
take the risk that the differences are irrelevant for the purpose
of our argument. We may legitimately assume this, but if we do, our
hypothesis has to be confirmed in fact; it is naïve to think that the
verbal identity of the terms is quite enough. If, then, actual identity
cannot be absolutely guaranteed, if there is _always_ a possibility
that the same term when put into a syllogism and used in reasoning may
develop an ambiguity and become effectively two, it is evident that no
amount of formal validity will safeguard the truth of a conclusion,
even when the premisses are in themselves severally true. The
syllogistic form is convicted of _losing_ truth which it started from,
and this is the very thing it boasted it could never do. Moreover,
its coercive ‘cogency’ is exploded: whoever wishes to deny a ‘valid’
conclusion after admitting its premisses, has merely to suggest that by
putting the premisses together a fatal ambiguity has been generated in
the middle term.

§ 14. (4) The assumption that everything has been named rightly, and
is what it is called, will scarcely commend itself to the scientific
researcher. He will know from much painful experience that language
only embodies the knowledge which has been acquired up to date, and too
often is only a compendium of popular errors. Hence in any research
which really breaks new ground the existing terminology will always
prove inadequate, and new technical terms have usually to be devised
in order to embody the new knowledge. The reason is obvious. _Ex
hypothesi_ we are inquiring _farther_ into the subject, because our
knowledge is felt to be insufficient. Accordingly the probable defects
of the terminology we are initially forced to use must be borne in
mind: we may expect it to omit what is unknown, to misdescribe and
to classify wrongly what is partially known, putting together what
does not belong together and separating what does, emphasizing the
unimportant and slurring over the important, and generally failing to
provide the mind with words that give it a real apprehension of the
objects under inquiry. Hence the tacit assumption of Aristotelian logic
that the terms reasoned with are fully known, that adequate notions are
already extant, that truth has merely to be _disentangled_ by a verbal
criticism of existing opinions, and has not to be discovered outright,
is false; nor can any argument from a verbal identity be taken as final.

§ 15. (5) But of all the assumptions lurking in the theory of proof,
the belief that reasoning can and should start from certainty will
seem the falsest and most pernicious to the man of science. For it
means that we are committed to a search for absolutely certain
premisses as a preliminary to every inquiry, and proscribes consciously
hypothetical, i.e. truly experimental, reasoning altogether, or at
least condemns it as incapable of leading to certainty. This search,
however, will either be perfunctory and uncritical, if it accepts false
claims to certainty; or else vain, if it is conscientious. For every
attempt to prove a conclusion absolutely demands _two_ absolutely true
premisses; hence the more we try to prove, the more we have to prove,
and our search grows the more endless and futile, the longer it is
continued. An immutable basis of absolutely certain truths, therefore,
for reasoning to start from, is nowhere to be found. In no science
is it possible to _start_ with truths that are absolutely certain.
In every science the initial ‘facts’ are doubtful; they are alleged,
but not yet approved. They embody only unsystematic observation
and prescientific experience of the subject, and so are probably
the products of inaccurate observation, bad interpretation, false
preconceptions, and popular superstitions. To acquire any considerable
scientific value, such material has to be thoroughly revised and
refined.

The validity of methods and the certainty of ‘principles’ are no more
assured than the ‘facts’, initially. Every science has to work out its
own appropriate methods experimentally; even if it borrows methods
from another, it has to find out how and how far they apply to a new
subject. Neither does a science acquire its principles by divine
revelation; even if they fell from heaven ready-made, it would insist
on testing the authenticity of the revelation. But philosophers have
been extremely reluctant to admit that the certainty of principles is
a gradual growth: for over 2,000 years they have been endeavouring to
discover some way of securing an infallibility to principles which
would render them independent of the working of the sciences which use
them. But if their labours have proved anything, it is that no such way
can be found.

(_a_) They have recognized many principles as ‘_self-evident_’, and
equipped the mind with a variety of ‘faculties’, expressly invented to
enable it to apprehend the ‘self-evident’ inerrantly. But they have not
been able to agree upon a list of self-evident principles,[388] nor
even to find any truth whose claims to self-evidence have not been
denied by competent critics. Nor have they been able to define their
notion of ‘self-evidence’ itself; they cannot discriminate between
the sound ‘logical’ self-evidence, which they conceived to guarantee
truth, and its merely ‘psychological’ ‘mimic’, which is certainly much
commoner, and becomes more intense and extensive the more unsound is
the mind that ‘apprehends’ it.[389] Hence an unprejudiced observer has
no reason to put the ‘intuitions’ of philosophers and the ‘faculties’
which apprehend them on a higher cognitive level than those of women
or even lunatics. They all impose themselves psychologically; but this
proves nothing as to their logical value, and science has to test them
just the same.

(_b_) The principles which are said to be _necessary_ or _logical_
‘_presuppositions_’ all turn out to be hypothetical when they are
examined. They are needed, no doubt, to solve the problem in hand, _if_
the particular way it is formulated is taken for granted. But if either
the order or the formulation of problems is altered, they cease to be
either ‘necessary’ or ‘presuppositions’. For example, the ‘axiom of
parallels’, _alias_ ‘Euclid’s postulate’, is a necessary presupposition
of geometry, if the existence of parallels is assumed. But if we
prefer it, we can just as well (with Aristotle) make it our axiomatic
‘presupposition’ that the interior angles of a triangle are equal to
two right angles, and can then deduce the existence of parallels. I.e.
Euclid might have deduced what he assumed, and assumed what he deduced.
If, moreover, we do not desire to construct a Euclidean geometry at
all, we can deny _both_ presuppositions, and proceed from _alternative_
postulates, which lead to the various metageometries. The only things,
in short, which all scientific principles presuppose are the desire to
construct a science, and the desire to construct it in a particular
way, which is simplest, or easiest, or most systematic, or most in
accordance with the reigning prejudices. But these desires are the
very things which the logician’s account of principles always omits to
mention.

Again, the whole of Kant’s scheme of _a priori_ presuppositions in
the theory of knowledge rests upon an arbitrary assumption, viz.
that mental data are to be conceived as originally discrete and
are therefore in need of ‘synthesis’. But it is just as possible
to conceive an analysis of knowledge which starts from the
‘presupposition’ of a continuum or flux, and proceeds to trace out the
principles by means of which this continuum is broken up into a world
of apparently distinct things and processes. Nor is it possible to say
in advance of experience which of such ‘presuppositions’ is going to be
more convenient and more conducive to scientific progress.

(_c_) It demands a high and rare degree of philosophic insight to
perceive that very many principles are neither certain, necessary,
nor probable, but simply _methodological_. Whether we think them true
or not, we adopt them because of their eminent convenience. If they
turn out to be false, candour compels us to call them _methodological
fictions_; but they continue in use. Our belief in the trustworthiness
of memory is a good example. For though we often find that our memory
has played us tricks, we continue to accept as true what we ‘distinctly
remember’. If no limitations to the truth-claim of such assumptions
are discovered, enthusiasts will probably insist on promoting them to
the rank of indisputable ‘axioms’, and hail them as absolute truths.
But their scientific value is not thereby enhanced, and the cautious
will eschew such exaggerations. For there is no real reason why the
scientific rank of principles should not rest openly and entirely on
their actual services, and why a ‘methodological assumption’ should
not rank higher than a ‘self-evident truth’. For the latter is at most
a fact of our mental organization which nothing has so far turned up
in nature to set at naught, and as such a fact it is itself a thing to
marvel at rather than an explanation of other things. The scientific
spirit will always hesitate to acquiesce in the limits which are set
to inquiry by sheer brute facts, and if the absolute truth of certain
principles were merely an ultimate fact which could neither be impugned
nor explained, this would go far to make these principles appear
unintelligible and would be a constant challenge to dispense with them,
or somehow to evade them. A principle, then, should always be prepared
to state the reasons a science had for adopting it: only the reasons
will appear from the actual working of the science. They will involve
a reference _forward_ to the facts it copes with, not _back_ to higher
principles or to any claim that proves itself by its self-assertion.

(_d_) Indisputable principles, then, are not consonant with the
spirit of inquiry: it will gladly let them go, if it can attain truth
and advance knowledge in other ways. It will not shrink even from
repudiating the ideal of absolutely true and demonstrated truth, if it
can be realized only by sacrificing the progressiveness of science; nor
will it be dismayed to find that this ideal is unrealizable. For when
the inquirer reflects upon his own procedure, he finds that it points
to a radically different ideal, and that the existence of absolute
truths would only be a hindrance and a restriction upon his endeavour
(cf. § 28 (4)).


II

§ 16. Before, however, we attempt to delineate the logical ideal of
the discoverer, it will be necessary to encounter a serious objection
which protests on principle against such an undertaking, and urges
that discovery by its very nature must elude logical treatment. It
is contended, in the supposed interests of logic, that discovery is
a process so inherently and incurably psychological that no logical
account can ever be given of it. Discoveries are windfalls, and come
as ‘happy thoughts’ to the gifted geniuses that make them, in a manner
neither they nor any one else can account for or describe: they are
therefore logically fortuitous, and to set forth the ideal of proof by
which the truth of discoveries is tested is all that need, or can, be
the concern of logic.

Certainly the great majority of deductive logicians have taken up some
such attitude towards the process of discovery. Aristotle contents
himself with a bare mention of ‘sagacity’ (ἀγχίνοια), which is defined
as the instantaneous apprehension of the suitable middle term for
constructing a demonstrative syllogism.[390] When one recollects the
weary centuries of painful effort and continual failure which elapsed
while the _élite_ of the human race were seeking for clues to, e.g.,
the mysteries of disease and of physical happenings, before they hit
upon the notions of microbes and the mechanical theory, this naïve
underestimate of the most difficult and essential of scientific
procedures sounds like a mockery. Yet the whole Aristotelian school
pass over the problem as lightly. They all seem to believe that, while
it is merely low cunning to make a discovery, it is a real proof of
mental capacity to arrange it ‘in logical order’ after it has been
made, and to show how far short it falls of the logical ideal. Even the
inductive logicians may be said to have participated in this attitude.
For they were not more anxious to propound methods of discovery than
to contend that their conclusions were just as rigidly proved and just
as formally valid as those of syllogisms. They did not see that they
were thereby accepting the demonstrative ideal of proof and giving away
their own; what they should have shown was that this ideal was utterly
nugatory, and that their own methods could never conduct to ‘proof’,
but only to something vastly superior.

§ 17. In spite, however, of this wonderful consensus of logicians the
above argument depends essentially on a confusion. It has confused
two things which are perfectly distinct, the actual procedure of
the individual discoverer, and the generalized description of the
attitude of mind and procedures of discoverers, as they appear to
subsequent logical reflection. Both present problems to the logician,
but the problems are not the same. To anticipate the process of actual
discovery may well be left to the prophets; it will transcend the
powers of logic and indeed of any science, unless it be individual
psychology, if it exists, or history, if it be a science.[391] It may
readily be admitted that anecdotes about the bath which fomented in
the mind of Archimedes the idea of specific gravity, and the streets
of Syracuse through which he ran and cried ‘_Heureka!_’, or about
the apple-tree which shed its fruit upon Newton’s receptive head,
and stimulated his brain to frame the law of universal gravitation,
are beneath the dignity of science. Their narration belongs to
history, which can go as deeply into their details as the scale
of the history and the purpose of the historian demand; but the
particular circumstances of a particular discovery may well be treated
as ‘accidental’, and be smoothed out of the scientific record. But
why does it follow that no common features can be traced in these
histories of discovery, and that there cannot be compiled out of a
sufficient number of them a generalized account of what appears to be
the ‘essential’, i.e. really relevant, procedure of discoverers, which
may serve as a guide and model to subsequent discoverers? Why should
this be more difficult than to describe the method of lion-hunting
from the records of lion hunts, or the treatment of a disease from the
history of a number of cases? Indeed, it would seem that the thing has
been done. Any discoverer may reflect upon his own discoveries, and,
like Poincaré,[392] formulate the method he has found successful. And
if discoverers are not all perfectly unique in their methods, important
uniformities will probably be found by comparing the methods of a
number of discoverers.

Why again should it be assumed that the general account thus extracted
from a retrospective study of discoveries must at once coincide with
the logical ‘ideal of proof’? Why should it even point to this, or
be related to it otherwise than by contrast? Surely the possibility
should be discussed that there are _two_ procedures for logic to
consider, of which the one describes how human knowers, starting
from what they believe themselves to know, set about it to fortify
and extend their knowledge, while the other moves on a superhuman
plane and describes, with Platonic fervour, how ideal demonstration,
descending from absolutely certain principles, moulds into a closed
and inexpugnable system all the truths which are deducible from these
and alone intelligible. The two accounts must be distinct, for they
have different starting-points and work upon different material. Nor
need they ever have any point of contact. For it may well be that human
knowing never attains to an absolute certainty and a completed system,
while deductive proof never condescends to notice mundane fact.

This was certainly so in the first rapturous vision of _a priori_
‘proof’ which solaced Plato amid the elusiveness and opacity of the
flow of happenings. The deduction of the intelligible order of the
ideal ‘Forms’ from their supreme ground and (_sole_!) premiss in the
‘Idea of the Good’ stopped short of facts and events at the _laws_ of
minimum generality,[393] and recognized in all the happenings of the
sensible world an ineradicable taint of ‘not-being’ which rendered
their stability impossible and their prediction vain. Aristotle
similarly distinguished between the procedure which started from the
_notiora nobis_, the apparent facts of perception, and that which
began with the _notiora naturae_, the self-evident principles which
could form the ultimate premisses of demonstrations. But that these two
methods must somehow coincide was assumed rather than proved, in a way
that should have discredited the doctrine. For Aristotle also was not
able to explain how ‘science’, being of ‘universals’, could apply to
particulars, which nevertheless he would not with Plato stigmatize as
‘unreal’, while the ascent from the sensible fact to the ‘universal’,
which was called the ‘induction’ of the ‘principle’, is hardly
validated by the naïve allegation of a mental faculty of ‘intuitive
reason’ (νου̑ς) endowed with the special function of apprehending
principles in their particular exemplifications. It is high time,
therefore, that this whole assumption that a necessary congruity exists
between the logic of discovery and of proof should be subjected to a
thorough examination.


III

§ 18. Such an examination will speedily establish that the mental
attitude of the discoverer is, and must be, quite different from that
of the prover.

In the first place, the discoverer is not in possession of the
knowledge he covets. It is for him a desire, an aspiration, an aim to
be attained. Proof, on the other hand, presupposes knowledge. Not only
must the demonstrator _know_ the assured truths he uses as premisses,
not only must he have a supply of absolutely certain truths if his
proof is not to remain hypothetical (§ 9), but he must already _know_
the conclusion he exhibits. He cannot be ignorant, like the discoverer,
of the result he is to arrive at. He is not engaged in _discovering_
new truth, he is only showing how it _follows from_ old truths. His
retrospective contemplation has merely to retrace the history of its
attainment, or rather to rearrange it in the more pleasing order
which he calls ‘logical’. This order is not that in which it _was_
discovered, nor even that in which it _could be_ discovered. For
there are such things as necessary errors, indispensable artifices,
and indefensible fictions, and the way to a truth often lies through
them. Thus from time immemorial mathematicians have represented the
continuous by the discrete, quantities by numbers, knowing full
well what fictions their practice involved. Again, mathematical
calculation of shapes, areas, and motions necessarily presupposes the
fictions that bodies have the ideal and regular forms to which they
‘approximate’, and that their ‘mass’ is concentrated at their (ideal)
‘centre of gravity’. It is more than doubtful whether the notion of
an ‘evolution’ of species could ever have been reached, except by
starting from the false notion of the fixity of species, or whether
the true nature of the mobility and development of meanings could have
been understood except by correcting the Platonic theory of immutable
and eternal ‘universals’. To ‘proof’ all these incidents and accidents
of the history of discovery are irrelevant; all that has to be done
is to show that the new truth can be deduced from the old, and that a
‘logical connexion’ exists between them.

§ 19. Not only is this much easier to do than to make the discovery,
but it is very much easier to follow. Any one can see the connexion
once the data have been arranged in logical order. Hence the assumption
that this order somehow represents the actual process in a perfected
form is natural enough. But it leads to contempt for the procedure
of discovery. The discovery is made to look so easy that it becomes
impossible to appreciate its difficulty and its merit, and it seems
astonishing that no one made it long before. For did not the ‘facts’
all but force it upon the dullest mind? Who could have failed to see
that fossils must be (at least) as old as the rocks in which they are
embedded, that obviously worked flints, similarly, attest the antiquity
of man, that northern Europe is scratched all over with the marks of
a gigantic glaciation? It is forgotten that these ‘facts’ were _not_
there until there came a mind prepared to notice them. Hence none of
these discoveries were in fact easy to make, and they were preceded by
a long struggle of the human mind with false preconceptions and the
illusory ‘facts’ which they had engendered.

Nor are discoveries easy to get recognized when they have been made.
The persecutions to which discoverers of new truth are subjected
always and everywhere (more or less) form as discreditable a chapter
of human history as the persecution of moral reformers. Those may
count themselves fortunate who are simply ignored. Hence everything
has to be ‘discovered’ over and over again. Nothing new ever enters
the world, just as nothing old ever passes away, without infinite
pains and after a protracted struggle. One curious result of this
inertia which deserves to rank among the great fundamental ‘laws’ of
nature, is that when a discovery has finally won tardy recognition, it
is usually found to have been anticipated, often with cogent reasons
and in great detail. Darwinism, e.g., may be traced back through the
ages to Heraclitus and Anaximander. Thus it is true that there is
‘nothing new under the sun’; but only because when a new truth first
appears it does not prevail: when after a hundred repetitions it is at
length recognized, it is no longer strictly _new_. Accordingly, the
‘discovery’ of a truth is only the beginning of its career, the first
step by which it makes its way in the world, and still very distant
from the crowning ‘proof’ with which logic complacently adorns it _ex
post facto_, when it has ‘arrived’. The slowness and difficulty, then,
with which the human race makes discoveries, and its blindness to the
most obvious facts, if it happens to be unprepared or unwilling to see
them, should suffice to show that there is something gravely wrong
about the logician’s account of discovery.

§ 20. Quite apart from the difficulties which the psychological
constitution and social organization of man put in the way of
innovators, the making of a new truth which formulates a new ‘fact’
is also intrinsically anxious work. It is not merely that its maker
can have no assurance that his enterprise will succeed, that he cannot
start with a feeling of certainty from established truths, and be
wafted by an irresistible wave of logical necessity to the safe haven
of a predestined conclusion. He _must_ start with a consciousness of
ignorance and an all-pervading feeling of doubt about every step of his
inquiry. This doubt he should not, moreover, endeavour to disregard
or to suppress; for it is the best guarantee that no way to the truth
will be passed by in his explorations. Doubt, therefore, should be
recognized on principle, and equipped with a technique of testing and
experimentation: the inquirer should be proud that he has to feel his
way in fear and trembling to the very end.

Yet his condition will not contravene Aristotle’s dictum that all
inquiry and research proceed from knowledge previously acquired.[394]
In a sense he will still start from what he knows, or thinks he knows.
For it is psychologically impossible to do anything else. The knowledge
he believes himself to have cannot but affect all his ideas, and he
cannot get away from it. His boldest speculations, his most hazardous
hypotheses, will have _some_ relation, however subtle and recondite,
to the knowledge at his disposal. It will influence all his thoughts
and guide his guesses. As he cannot divest himself of his knowledge
and the ideas it has rendered familiar to him, he has to accept its
limitations. His only problem is to use it as effectively as possible.

But it is clear that he cannot regard his knowledge with the same
sort and amount of confidence as the believer in demonstrative proof.
He must conceive himself as an explorer, and his attitude must be
tentative throughout. Knowing that his premisses are questionable and
only doubtfully true, he will recognize that his inferences are only
probable, and stand in need of confirmation. As a rule he can, no
doubt, find accepted truths to argue from; but these being relative to
the existing state of knowledge are known to be subject to correction.
Even where he has started with premisses of the most superior kind,
which are generally deemed absolutely self-evident and certain in
themselves, he will still be conscious of a doubt whether they will
prove to be the right premisses _for his purpose_. If they are not,
their truth is irrelevant and will lead him astray. In no case,
therefore, can he escape the responsibility of _choosing the right
ones_ from his limited stock of known truths and familiar ideas, as he
contemplates the infinite expanse of possible discovery. In whatever
direction he moves, the unknown lies before him; he may come upon
surprises or be stopped by unsuspected obstacles. In short, there is
nothing of the irresistible about his progress; it has not the faintest
resemblance to the majestic march from inevitable premisses to a
predestined conclusion which so fascinates us in the theory of proof.

§ 21. But, it may be said, all this is not enough. The differences in
the attitudes assumed by the reasoner in discovery and in proof may
be only psychological. They do not prove any real logical difference
between them; the logician’s account may still be what the discoverer
would acknowledge to have been his best course, if he could have seen
it. It has, therefore, to be shown that the differences in question
arise out of, and develop into, differences which are indisputably
logical.

Thus, the ignorance which the inquirer feels is doubtless a
psychological fact, but the lack of knowledge which engenders it is
surely a logical fact of some importance. In general, the feelings of
doubt, expectancy, and perplexity which beset the mind of the inquirer,
and contrast so distinctly with the feelings of confidence, knowledge,
certainty, and necessity which accompany a ‘proof’, originate in a
logical fact. Every inquiry starts from a _problem_, of which the
solution is not yet known. An _inquiry_ is, as the name implies, a
_question_, put, not to nature at large and at random, but to some
_part_ of it, which is taken to be relevant and to contain a possible
answer to the inquirer’s question. Now this dependence of inquiry
upon problems springs no doubt from the psychological fact that until
there is something put before it the mind cannot get to work upon it;
but it is surely a fact of the utmost logical significance, and it is
astounding that the logical tradition should have slurred it over so
completely.

Especially as in the very beginnings of logic some of the Greeks
distinctly caught a glimpse of it. For, having started their reflection
upon reasoning from a desire to regulate debate and to argue a case
at law, they naturally noticed that there are two sides (at least)
to every question. Accordingly, Protagoras appears to have taught
systematically that there were always two reasonings (λόγοι) to be
considered,[395] Socrates, treated scientific inquiry as an extension
of the art of cross-examination, and Plato conceived the search for
ideal truth as a ‘dialectical’ process, as a sort of dialogue of the
soul with itself. Now this whole doctrine is equally good as logic
and as psychology. It is profoundly true of the inquirer’s mind; he
must be keenly alive, not only to the evidence _for_, but also to
that _against_ his working theory. But it is also true of the logical
nature of inquiry that it is a process of determining _which_ of the
alleged ‘facts’ and of the theories to interpret them are real and
true. Inquiry logically ‘presupposes’ a conflict between the data, and
a dispute about them.

Unfortunately, however, the conception of scientific research as
an inquiry lapses from the logical consciousness in consequence
of Aristotle’s work. His discovery of the forms and formulas of
demonstration overshadowed it, and restored the reign of dogma which is
so congenial to the authorities everywhere.[396] The true conception of
inquiry does not revive again until our days, when Mr. Alfred Sidgwick
and Professor John Dewey have endeavoured, not with the success
they deserved, to reopen the eyes of logicians to the facts of the
scientific situation.

§ 22. To conceive an inquiry as a question then is, we see, implicitly
to conceive it as having a plurality of answers, all of which have
to be examined. All these answers are initially hypotheses, and a
choice has to be made between them. This renders the recognition of
alternatives a paramount necessity for a logic of discovery, which
can no longer dismiss them with a jejune chapter on ‘disjunctive
propositions’. Their existence is no longer to be treated as an
annoying complication which delays the progress of science, but must be
taken to inhere in the logical nature of problems, and to be essential
to their proper elucidation.

Logic, therefore, should regard it as its duty to inquire (1) how the
inquirer is furnished with an adequate supply of theories for analysing
and testing the apparent facts of his subject, (2) what methods are
used to sift hypotheses and to select the more valuable, and (3) if it
can, to add some hints as to how theories and methods _ought_ to be
handled.

(1) To the first question there is no exhaustive answer. No logic can
guarantee that _all_ the possible theories which concern the facts
under inquiry will be available. They may not yet have occurred to any
human mind, and may never do so. This alone ought to be considered a
fatal objection to all methods which presuppose exhaustiveness, and are
pressed by the logician upon the man of science. It ought to dispose of
methods which demand that _all_ the facts should be assembled before
theorizing is begun, or that _all_ the alternatives should be stated
and the true one extracted by the successive elimination of the false
ones, or that define a ‘cause’ as reciprocating with its ‘effect’, and
assume that the true cause has been discovered when no other has been
thought of, or that if a theory works we may take it that it alone will
do so and is (absolutely) true. All these notions demand an impossible
exhaustion of the alternatives, and try to convert a (psychological)
failure to think of any more into a logical proof that there are no
more. And they all regard the plurality of alternatives as a hindrance
to be got rid of, and not as a safeguard and a help to proper inquiry.

Hence the real difficulty was not perceived, viz. that there is no
formal guarantee that the supply of hypotheses for use upon the facts
in any inquiry will be adequate. It may well be that for lack of a
good working theory to go upon, all the theorizing on a subject proves
vain and sterile. In the beginnings of all the sciences this sort of
condition always exists and often lasts for centuries, and it is a main
reason why some sciences make little progress even now.

Nevertheless, the difficulty is not in practice as fatal as it looks
on paper. It is probable that the inquirer will in fact usually have
a supply of alternatives to start from. For (_a_) he will naturally
select a subject in which there are disputed points. And (_b_), what
is even more important, human minds are naturally various: they put,
therefore, different interpretations on the same facts and value them
differently. Some are attracted by novelty, others by orthodoxy; some
incline to one type of theory and method of inquiry, others to another.
Hence in any inquiry upon which a number of minds are actively engaged,
there will always be differences of opinion, and these will be most
marked in the rapidly growing regions of every progressive science,
which, like the growing cells in the trunk of a tree, are always on the
outskirts. There will always be a conservative and a liberal party,
even in science, and the clash between their views will always provide
alternative solutions of problems, the comparative merits of which the
inquirer can examine. But the sciences owe their progress largely to
the man who raises new questions, and should provide for him in their
organization.

§ 23. It should be noted further that if this feature in discovery
were properly recognized and emphasized, it would have important
educational and ethical effects. At present the study of logic can
hardly be said to liberalize and broaden the mind or to improve the
temper. So long as its chief interest is in a theory of absolute proof
and complete certainty, it will tend to breed pedants and bigots. The
effect would be very different if an adequate logic of discovery had
imbued the mind with an ever-present thought that every subject may and
must be considered from several points of view, and that an inquirer
should beware of letting his predilections and preconceptions blind
him to possible alternatives. The logical attitude of inquiry, when
fully understood, demands a tolerant and open mind, and excludes the
narrow-mindedness and dogmatism which the theory of proof has fostered
by its pretence of showing that there was but one truth and one
inevitable way of reaching it. Moreover, the necessity of continually
choosing between a number of alternatives should cultivate a judicial
temper, conducing to fair-mindedness and consideration towards the
views of others. For a mind which is in the habit of choosing between
alternatives must be impressed by the facts that there is something to
be said for the views it does not accept, that the view accepted is
often not so very much superior to those rejected, and that new facts
and new knowledge may always revive views which were supposed to be
defunct.

Of course our natural dogmatism will take alarm at the flabby
toleration of ideas which this attitude seems to imply. It will be
objected that no one who can see the good and truth in beliefs he
does not accept, can really be strenuous in upholding those he does.
The full answer to this bigots’ argument can only be appreciated when
the attitude of progressive science is fully understood (cf. § 33),
but in general it may be pointed out that a power of first weighing
alternatives, choosing the best and acting upon it strenuously, is
precisely what life demands of us at every step. It should not,
therefore, be impossible to compass it in science.

§ 24. (2) To the second question of § 22, viz. what are the methods
used by the inquirer in sifting the alternative hypotheses in the
field, and picking out the most valuable, the answer is comparatively
easy. It is substantially the answer given by the pragmatist analysis
of knowledge. That theory is preferred, and tends to be accepted as
true, which for the time being _works_ best. The formula looks simple,
but needs more thinking out than its critics usually bestow upon it.

(_a_) It implies, of course, that _all_ the alternatives (before the
mind) ‘work’ more or less. They must be (or appear) scientifically
plausible, and proffer a more or less satisfactory explanation of some
or all of the admitted ‘facts’. This is why agencies like the Devil,
who could once be extensively alleged to explain anything unusual, have
dropped out of the purview of science.

(_b_) ‘Working’ must be conceived somewhat widely. Its _primary_
appeal is to the accepted principles and recognized interests of the
science; practically to ‘work’ means to conduce to the development of
the science on the recognized lines, and the proper judges of what
‘working’ counts are the experts who cultivate each science.

(_c_) But there will often be complications due to certain disputable
workings, of which the relevance is not yet established, and about
these there will legitimately be differences of opinion. These should
not be suppressed, but candidly argued out.

(_d_) Moreover, every _new_ departure will be _pro tanto_ disputable,
because it will conflict more or less with the vested interests of the
established doctrines. One great factor in the ‘working’ of a new truth
is the extent to which it upsets, or is thought to upset, the old, and
demands a reconstruction of beliefs, a correction of authorities, a
revision of text-books, a renewal of plant, &c. Hence what works best
in the abstract may not do so under the actual conditions. It may ‘pay’
a professor better to be ‘orthodox’ than to be an innovator, and he
is usually quite alive to this, though it does not render him a good
investment scientifically for the institution that appoints him. If
then we looked at this side of the matter alone, the verdict would
always go against the novelty. For very few new truths are fortunate
enough to find the field free and unoccupied. Usually they have to
spring up in a soil densely overgrown with a rank growth of prejudices,
dogmas, and superstitions, to which the world is accustomed and even
devoted. So they have to fight for an opening in which they can take
root and grow up.

(_e_) The ‘working’, however, need not amount to a claim to represent
‘the’ truth. A discoverer may know that by reason of his deliberate use
of fictions, his results have forfeited their claims to be strictly
true; yet they may ‘work’ better than anything else in sight. The
typical example here is, of course, mathematics. When physical objects
are treated mathematically, they are identified by a fiction with the
objects of pure mathematics, and it is only on this assumption that
their behaviour can be calculated. They are, of course, vastly _more_
than mathematical objects, but their surplus meaning becomes irrelevant
wherever objects admit of mathematical treatment. And apart from the
restriction of the claim to truth necessitated by the use of fictions,
it should, of course, be recognized also that there are sound logical
reasons for denying that truths which rest on their ‘workings’ can ever
be ‘absolute’ (§ 26 _s.f._). Their truth is pragmatic, and is _optimi
iuris_ only if pragmatism establishes that no other and no better truth
exists.

(_f_) More specifically a very important form of working is the
prediction of events. Knowledge of the future is an almost universal
object of human desire, which men have sought to compass by fair means
and foul, and the calculation of the future is the avowed aim of many
scientific inquiries. Hence there is nothing more potent to dispose
the mind to accept a theory than the success of the predictions it
has led to. Yet here again this form of ‘working’ differs generically
from ‘proof’. It is clear that prediction is not strictly proof. For
predictions may be made with considerable accuracy by the aid of
hypotheses which turn out to be false or impossible. Thus eclipses
and other celestial events were predicted for centuries by means of
the Ptolemaic astronomy, and they cannot be predicted even now with
absolute accuracy. Indeed, physically speaking, absolute accuracy is
unthinkable. No instrument and no organ of observation can be conceived
to measure to more than a finite degree of accuracy, and the _best
value_ for any physical ‘fact’ will always be the mean of a number of
good observations after all the accessible sources of error have been
allowed for.

At no point, then, does the test of ‘working’ conduct to the notion
that absolute truth is discoverable. But the right inference may be,
not that the test is worthless, but that absolute truth is a chimera.

§ 25. (3) It cannot then be seriously disputed either that alternative
hypotheses are always (more or less consciously) present to the mind
of the inquirer, or that the working of a theory is in fact used, in
all the sciences, to test its claim to be true. But does it follow that
logic should bow to scientific fact and recognize these practices?
Should it set itself to devise a _technique_ for regulating the
formation of hypotheses and the establishment of their truth by their
working? It is here that the traditional logic demurs, and disputes
begin. Nevertheless, strong reasons may be advanced for answering both
questions in the affirmative.

(_a_) An abundance of hypotheses is a guarantee of great logical
value that all the important facts will be properly observed. For it
is evident that every theory will produce a certain _bias_ in the
observer. It will direct his attention upon those facts and those
features which are _relevant_ to his theory, and, more particularly,
which _support_ it. This is usually an advantage, because it helps him
to select what is relevant to his inquiry from the chaos of events; but
it will _pari passu_ blind him to whatever does not seem to be related
to, and to fit into, his theory. He will, therefore, fail to observe
and to appreciate what will seem to him to have little or no scientific
interest. And in so thinking he may be quite wrong.

The old theory of ‘induction,’ thought to get over this difficulty by
saying, ‘Well, of course, _all_ the facts must be observed’. It did
not observe the fact that in practice this is impossible, and is never
done. Nothing is observed but what the knowledge and preconceptions
of the time make visible to the scientific eye. Of what is visible at
any time only a small part seems worthy of the scientific microscope.
Complete observation, therefore, of literally all the facts is
scientifically impracticable.

As a logical ideal also this notion of all-inclusiveness is absurd. If
no inquiry could ever begin until _all_ the facts had been assembled,
how could anything be discovered until omniscience had been achieved,
i.e. when there was nothing left to discover? For how are we to know
that our assembly of ‘facts’ really is complete? And if literally all
the facts have to be used as data in any inquiry, shall we not speedily
find that every fact ramifies into infinity, and drags in the totality
of reality, and a knowledge of all things present, past, and future?
This ‘logical ideal’, therefore, renders inquiry impossible.

In point of fact the data of any inquiry are always a _selection_. They
are such of the recognized facts as are thought to be _relevant_, i.e.
to be truly ‘facts’ for the purpose in hand. But being a selection they
involve us in the risk that we may have selected wrongly, and omitted
what is important while admitting what is not. _From this risk there
is no escape._ For we cannot effect a compromise by including merely
so much of the facts as we can lay hold of. Not only does this yield
no guarantee that everything that is needed has been included, but it
may be a positive hindrance to try to include too much. For if our data
grow into an unwieldy mass, they will not seem susceptible of any order
or principle, and even the most penetrating inquirer will lose his way.

It is better, therefore, to give up altogether the idea of securing
formal validity by postulating an all-inclusive exhaustiveness. The
obvious alternative is to operate simultaneously with a plurality
of theories, each of which means a certain ordering of the ‘facts’
relatively to what seems a relevant and promising point of view. Each
will involve a selection and induce a bias; but with any luck they will
neutralize each other’s bias, and so will increase the probability that
no really relevant fact has escaped notice. This will not satisfy the
logical ‘ideal’, but in practice it means a good deal, and is enough
for scientific progress. Of course it must be understood that the
hypotheses employed are in a general way relevant to the problems and
the condition of the sciences, and not random guesses. This proviso
will cut down their exuberance even more than the limitations of the
human imagination, which seems to be psychologically incapable of
really departing very far from the suggestions of experience.

§ 26. When logic has recognized the use and value of ‘working’ as
the test of truth, it must, however, make it clear to itself and to
others both what precisely this test is, and what it can, and cannot,
accomplish.

In the first place, it must be made clear that it is _not_ a logical
implication of the test that ‘whatever works is true’, and the reasons
for disputing this dictum must be set forth. The fact is that we
all have a strong psychological tendency to believe in the truth of
what is found to work, without much criticism of the sort and extent
of the ‘working’. But the logician should carefully investigate the
various sorts of working that occur, and take special note of those
which either do not themselves lay claim to full truth, or do not
(ordinarily) have their claim conceded.

For example, ‘_fictions_’ are not supposed to be strictly true; but
they may ‘work’ and be ‘as good as true’, or ‘pragmatically true’, or
‘sufficiently true for the purpose in hand’. They work, in fact, within
limits; but these limits are _known_, and so they are not confused with
full-fledged truths, to the applicability of which there are no known
limits.

The case of ‘_methodological assumptions_’ is more difficult and
instructive, and is usually misconceived. In their case the existence
of limits to their ‘working’ is either not known or not relevant,
because they owe their adoption to their use and convenience in
analysing and organizing a subject of inquiry. Thus the principle of
Causation, the assumption that every event has a cause which determines
it fully, is properly to be regarded as methodological. It declares
merely that if we desire to calculate the course of events, it is
scientifically convenient to treat events as if they had ‘causes’,
from which their occurrence could be predicted, whether or not they
have them in fact. This assumption may be purely methodological; it
need not, and should not, be turned into a dogmatic, metaphysical
denial that there may be indeterminate happenings. There may even
be good reasons to suspect their occurrence, and indeterminism may
be ultimately true, and yet scientific method may rightly ignore
this possibility, because it would render the calculation of events
impossible.[397] Even an indeterminist then is fully entitled to
reason _as if_ events were determined, and to search for ‘causes’, for
the purely methodological reason that this enables him to calculate
events, and that after all they may be calculable. So long as they
work for scientific purposes it is not, in the case of methodological
principles, necessary to raise the question of their metaphysical truth.

The ‘lie’ again is a curious case of ‘working’. A lie, works, as a
rule, only so long as it passes for truth, and is believed to have
the meaning and value its author claims for it; when it is ‘found
out’, it ceases to work. Hence it can both work and fail to work at
the same time, according as it is, or is not, known to be a ‘lie’.
Clearly nothing can be made of the lie logically, until this double
aspect inherent in its nature is recognized; if the logician refuses to
distinguish between the _persons_ concerned in its making, acceptance,
and rejection, it remains (like ‘error’ to Plato) an insoluble
‘contradiction’. It is, however, a mere prejudice to refuse to make
these distinctions.

The ‘working’ of hypotheses is by no means simple and unambiguous.
It admits of infinite gradations in amount and kind, and the ‘truth’
which is implicated in ‘working’ is nothing essentially but an index
of its logical value, and may vary in quantity between values which
cannot be _psychologically_ discriminated from zero and from 100% or
1 (= ‘absolute’ certainty). It is crude, therefore, to confront a
scientific hypothesis with the rigid alternative ‘either (absolutely)
true, or (utterly) false’; its ‘truth’ really rests on its greater
value, as compared with its competitors. Its value, then, is a question
of more or less. The more extensively, conveniently, and economically
a hypothesis works, the more value has it, i.e. the more likely is
it to be called ‘true’, and to be supposed true absolutely: the more
continuously and successfully the test of working has been applied to
a doctrine, the greater the confidence and affection with which it is
regarded, and the greater the presumption that it will continue to
approve itself as true.

But, as we anticipated in § 24 (_s.f._), it is vain to expect to
establish any absolute truth by this method. It provides truth with
ever-growing probability, but never with absolute certainty. For,
however well a theory works, the thought that one may hereafter be
found to work better can never logically be excluded. Even if every
one alive were perfectly satisfied, and no one could imagine any
improvement in an accepted truth--and these conditions are by no
means often realized--such psychological considerations would not
disprove the logical possibility that the best known was not the best
absolutely, and logic would continue to distinguish between a truth
that was absolute, and one liable to one billionth chance of error. The
latter chance could be disregarded for all practical and scientific
purposes, and would not have the slightest psychological effect on
the confidence with which the truth was regarded; but logically it
would still be there. Science, therefore, has to resign itself to the
conclusion that its method cannot conceivably attain to absolute truth,
and to make the best of it.

§ 27. Curiously enough this conclusion is fully confirmed by Formal
Logic. It prides itself on pointing out that there is a formal
fallacy involved in establishing truth by ‘working’. The essence of
this method is to argue that if a theory is found to work (after the
proper precautions have been taken), it is true. If e.g. the events
anticipated by a theory occur, and nothing occurs that could not be
anticipated, it grows more and more probable until it convinces every
one. But ought it logically to have done this? The logician declares
emphatically, it ought not. For the argument suffers from an incurable
flaw, which has been recorded as a ‘fallacy’ for over 2,000 years. It
is a flagrant ‘affirmation of the consequent’; symbolically, it argues
that _if A is, B is, but B is, ∴ A is_. Now this is not ‘cogent’ or
‘valid’. That _A is_ can be proved only from the premiss ‘_only_ if A
is, B is’, i.e. if A is the _only_ theory which will account for the
observed consequences. But this the fallacious method did not assert,
and indeed could not assert. For that the best known is the best
absolutely never can be proved (cf. § 26); and even if they happened to
be identical, and we had somehow stumbled upon an absolute truth, we
should never know that this was so.

§ 28. To the logician this fact only seems to prove the superiority
of his conception of ‘proof’. He infers, consistently enough, that no
inductive reasoning from ‘facts’, no verification of hypotheses by
events, can possibly amount to proof. What he seeks to impress upon
his pupils is that _verification is not proof and can never lead to it_.

He considers himself entitled to look down upon science accordingly,
its evidence, its methods, and its reasonings, and to contrast them
with the absoluteness of his own ideal of demonstration. He upholds
its validity in spite of all the failures of the sciences to realize
it. As a rule he seems willing to grant that some mathematical proofs
amount to logical demonstration;[398] but if pressed he would confess
that scientific truth was only probable, whereas certain metaphysical
truths, such as the law of contradiction, alone were absolutely certain.

The scientist, of course, is not in a position to deny that the nature
of his truth is such as has been stated: but he should not attempt to
do so. He should content himself with scientific truth, and contend
that at its best it is good enough for any one. And he can carry the
war into Africa by a vigorous counter-attack.

(1) He can deny--for the reasons stated in § 13--that the logician’s
formal ‘proof’ is as cogent and formally valid as the latter supposes,
and show that after a conclusion has been ‘_proved_’ true, it has still
to _come true_ before it can be trusted to be ‘true’.

(2) He can point out that there is a serious _lacuna_ in the logician’s
plea for his notion of ‘proof’. The logician has assumed that the
only alternative to his belief in absolutely certain premisses is
complete scepticism, arguing that it must be possible to start from
certainty, because otherwise no knowledge would be possible at all.
He then urged ‘but there clearly _is_ knowledge--the sciences attest
it’, and consistently inferred that absolutely certain premisses must
be obtainable. The more or less obvious failure of his attempts to
explain their genesis by ‘self-evidence’, ‘intuition’, ‘necessities of
thought’, &c. (§ 15), could not deter him from clinging to his belief,
because the principles themselves seemed to him to be inevitable and to
admit of no alternative.

In fact, however, there _is_ a _via media_ between scepticism and
absolutism, and science safely pursues it, though logic has overlooked
it. It is _not_ necessary to start with absolutely certain premisses,
because it is possible to adopt premisses hypothetically, to take
them as true for the argument’s sake and for the purposes of the
inquiry, to experiment with them, and to revise them in the light of
the results of such experiments. Thus _their_ value may be judged and
established, _after_ their adoption, by the experimental results,
and they may come to depend logically upon these, and not upon the
processes (analogies, suggestions, guesses, fancies, &c.) which led
to their adoption. If they show themselves capable of advancing the
science and solving its problems, confidence in their ‘truth’ increases
progressively, and their initial assumption is justified. They _cease_
to be ‘hypotheses’ and become ‘facts’, and even ‘principles’ beyond
dispute. If they fail to ‘work’, they may be discarded in favour of
others which are tried in their turn and similarly tested. Hence it
is not true that what is uncertain to begin with must always remain
so, nor is it hard to understand that hypothesis, willingness to
believe, and belief may be the psychological forerunners of logical
proof, which, nevertheless, rests not upon them, but upon the solid
value of the results subsequently reached by their means. The
certainty of scientific premisses then admits of indefinite growth,
which at some point or other will overpower even the most obstinately
sceptical temper. This point naturally lies at a greater distance from
the starting-point for some minds than for others, but when it is
reached, and when the last doubts and scruples have been overcome, the
triumphant truth will _feel_ absolutely certain, and to all intents
and purposes will function as such. But the ‘practical certainty’ thus
achieved will still be distinguishable in thought from the absolute
certainty which logical theory mistakenly demanded. And logicians,
from Plato downwards,[399] will be convicted of having failed to allow
for the possibility that the certainty of premisses and principles may
be a fruit of continuous experience and experiment, and to perceive
that this is the method the sciences have actually employed. In short,
necessary (needed) ‘truths’ need _not_ be regarded as ‘_a priori_’, if
it is seen how hypotheses are consolidated by experience.

(3) The scientist can deny that the ideal case, contemplated with so
much satisfaction by the logician, can ever occur in actual knowing.
He can point out that if the logical apparatus of demonstration is
to work, it must be supplied with premisses that are absolutely
true. But whence is the logician to obtain them? The ‘self-evident’
principles and ‘necessary’ axioms, for which so much has been claimed,
have been shown (§ 15) to be highly disputable, and are themselves
in need of support and verification. The truths which the sciences
supply abundantly are all products of the method to which he takes
exception. There are no scientific truths which have not to be, and
have not been, verified, and if verification is logically vicious,
and cannot amount to proof, they are not absolutely true. But if the
premisses of a demonstration are not absolutely true, neither can its
conclusion be. What then becomes first of the value, and ultimately of
the ‘validity’, of an ideal of proof which can never be exemplified by
actual reasoning, and serves only to condemn it?

(4) The ideal of absolute certainty may be repudiated altogether, even
as an ideal, for sound scientific reasons. It may be shown that if it
were possible it would be scientifically undesirable. For it would mean
the creation of absolute bars to scientific progress. If truths existed
which were absolutely certain, this would mean that nothing more could
be learnt about them, and nothing could be done to strengthen their
position. No experience, no inquiry, no experiment, could any longer
affect them, and add to or detract from their value. They could not,
therefore, form avenues to further knowledge. They would simply be
stops which would arrest scientific inquiry. But how could such things
form an ideal of scientific knowledge? How could it be in the spirit,
and to the interest, of science to recognize them? They would merely
be for science brute facts which it was forbidden to investigate. And
must not science on principle hold out for the right to inquire into
everything, to test every belief, however true it may seem? How, then,
can it be the ideal of science to adopt an ideal which would stop
inquiry?

Nor will it suffice in reply to point to the fact that the sciences
continually assume the truth of the premisses they argue from. For
though this is often a convenient assumption for the purpose in hand,
it is one thing to assume the truth of premisses for the purposes of
an inquiry, and quite another to assume it absolutely. For in the
former case our assumption may be, and should be, accompanied by a
consciousness that upon another and fitting occasion the premisses now
assumed to be true may themselves be inquired into: to regard them,
therefore, as absolute is to misinterpret their logical condition.

There are no good reasons, then, why the sciences should surrender to
the arbitrary demands of the traditional logic, and sacrifice their
practices which have been sanctified by the successes of 2,000 years to
theories which sprang from a misunderstanding of scientific procedure,
and have since lost all contact with it. The original mistake was
pardonable, but it ought not to be regarded as an insult to logic to
require it to understand the procedure by which the sciences actually
progress.

§ 29. The scientist then should not be terrified by the charge that his
‘truths’ are ‘only probable’. For it is better to be satisfied with
probabilities than to demand impossibilities and starve. Moreover, a
high degree of probability means ‘practical certainty’, i.e. confidence
enough to move to action. Such certainty so convinces and satisfies
the mind that it cannot feel more certain about anything; the logical
gap between it and absolute certainty is psychologically negligible.
We are sacrificing, therefore, nothing but a superstition, nothing
that has any value for us, by renouncing the demand for absolute truth
and demonstrative ‘proof’, and we gain in return a charter of liberty.
For to admit the essential progressiveness of scientific truth and
its indefinite capacity for improvement means unlimited freedom to
research into truths which are infinitely perfectible, because they are
never ‘absolute’. The ideal of the infinite perfectibility of truth,
and the infinite progressiveness of science, is more than an adequate
substitute for the ‘logical ideal’ which is abandoned. For not only is
it an ideal which works, but it really embodies a nobler aspiration
than that which represented science as ‘resting’ in absolute perfection
on fixed ‘foundations’ of ‘eternal’ truth. The sentiment which inspires
this group of metaphors is given away by the word ‘rest’. A science
that desires to _rest_ is one that is unwilling to _move_ and unable
to _advance_. Fixed ‘foundations’ are needed only for standing firm
and standing still, and it turns out that what is strictly meant
by ‘eternal’ is not that truths last for ever, but that they are
not related to ‘time’ at all, and so have really no application to
‘events’.[400]

On the other hand, a science which sincerely desires to progress
needs fixed foundations as little as fixed ideas, and firm ground as
little as assurances to ‘rest’ on. It needs only a starting-point,
or jumping-off place, whence it can plunge into the unharvested
seas of the unknown. Now the essence of a starting-point is to be a
place you want to get away from, and its excellence lies in being
such as to prompt you to leave it as easily and eagerly as possible.
If, therefore, scientific ‘principles’ (ἀρχαί) are really to be
starting-points, they need not, and must not, be so comfortable and so
deceptively similar to ‘absolute’ truths as to tempt the scientific
spirit to repose. They should be tentative assumptions which are gladly
abandoned in the hope of reaching something better, stepping-stones to
farther and higher things, which are valued for their consequences,
and logically dependent on the conclusions to which they formed
the premisses. The logic of science, therefore, has no reason to
postulate stability or solidity for its initial principles: the most
indispensable of them are only principles of method, and even of the
tried and tested principles it arrives at the ‘validity’ (= strength)
demanded is merely that they should be able to float the accumulated
wealth of knowledge down the stream of time.


IV

§ 30. It is clear, then, that the time has come when Science should
break decisively with the logical tradition, and proclaim a logic
of its own which has always been implicit in its procedure. It must
definitely declare that what it needs is not a logic which describes
only the static relations of an unchanging system of knowledge, but
one which is open to perceive motion, and willing to appreciate the
dynamic process of a knowledge that never ceases to grow, and is never
really stereotyped into a system. To show that such a logic is not
inconceivable will be the endeavour of the concluding sections of this
essay.

We have already had occasion to note many of the most important
features of this logic. We have seen that logical, i.e. critical,
reflection upon discovery must start from, and be guided by, the
conception of a scientific _problem_ with which the process of knowing
_experiments_ (§ 21). This problem has, of course, to be attacked
with the existing resources of a science, i.e. with the knowledge it
possesses up to date. These resources form the scientific _capital_
which is necessarily _risked_ in research if it is to yield interest.
It comprises (_a_) approved principles, (_b_) known facts, and (_c_)
established meanings of words. About each of them a little more may
advantageously be said.

(_a_) We have seen (§ 15) that the principles of any science could not
rightly be conceived as inscrutable, ultimate, absolute certainties
of divine descent, and acknowledging no human ancestry. We saw that
they could be understood only as hypotheses which reflection upon a
problem had somehow suggested to an ingenious mind, which had been
provisionally adopted in order to explore and organize a subject of
inquiry, and had finally been verified and confirmed by their success
(§ 15 (_c_), § 24).

The principles thus accepted by a science are often regarded
as descriptive of fact when they are merely methodological and
convenient,[401] but this is a point of secondary importance. And even
the most amply verified principles never quite lose their hypothetical
character. So long as they are used, their meaning, scope, and truth
are not absolutely fixed. They can be extended, restricted, and
modified by the working of the principles.

§ 31. (_b_) It is really obvious to any critical reflection that when
a science appeals to ‘facts’, it is really appealing to the facts _as
known_, or supposed to be known. It cannot from the first presume its
knowledge to be absolute, and, _pace_ some of our ‘neo-realists’,
ignore the question whether the alleged facts are facts at all, and so
pretend to start from ‘the facts as they really are’. Such uncritical
temerity would only conduct to insoluble pseudo-problems like that
with which King Charles plagued the nascent Royal Society, as to _why_
the weight of a bucket full of water was not increased when a fish was
added to it. If, however, it is acknowledged that the ‘facts’ involved
in a scientific inquiry are always relative to a definite state and
date in the history of a science, several important corollaries follow.

(1) Being dependent on the condition of the science, the facts of a
science will not all be ‘facts’. That is, not all that is relevant to
the interest of the science will actually be within its cognizance,
not all that turns out to be fact, and is antedated when it has been
discovered, is as yet recognized as fact. It will be this fact,
moreover, which constitutes the science a field for inquiry and renders
it progressive.

(2) Though the ‘facts’ of the moment fail to include all the facts,
they often manage to include too much. The ‘facts’ are not all fact.
They include unknown, and often large, amounts of prejudice, illusion,
error, superstition, and other remnants of the lurid past and stormy
youth of every science. It is useless to repine at this inevitable
consequence of past history, and childish to try to purge it away
by defining as science only what _ex hypothesi_ is free from such
contaminations. To restrict the logical interest to science _qua_
science, which is by definition infallible, is to forbid any logical
treatment of the sciences we actually possess. But the logician should
surely be encouraged to study the processes by which the sciences
correct their initial errors and consolidate their acquisitions.

(3) It follows on both these grounds that the ‘facts’ of which a
science takes cognizance will be subject to change. As the science
grows, ‘new’ facts will come into it, and old facts will be discarded
as erroneous. In particular, facts which at first were only inferred
on theoretic grounds will be actually observed, even as ‘Neptune’ was
the fruit of a theory about the perturbations of Uranus. Hence the
antithesis of ‘theory’ and ‘fact’ must not be taken as absolute: they
must be expected to play into each other’s hands. It is the business of
theories to forecast ‘facts’, and of facts to form points of departure
for theories, which again, when verified by the new facts to which
they have successfully led, will extend the borders of knowledge.
Incidentally, however, this interaction between fact and theory often
renders it difficult to decide whether a scientific doctrine is better
regarded as a ‘theory’ or as a ‘fact’, and leads to differences of
opinion. But it can hardly be wrong to advise the scientific mind to
practise hospitality towards new facts, while it is no less fitting
to show generosity towards old servants that have done their work and
can now advantageously be retired. It is ungrateful to abuse them as
‘errors’, and to despise them with the lofty contempt of the higher
knowledge to which they have conducted. And in both cases the truly
scientific attitude may be attained if an element of fanaticism is
not imported into the conception of truth by attributing to it an
absoluteness which no human truth in fact possesses.

(4) The same need for tolerance is emphasized by a further corollary of
the conception of fact which has been advocated. It seems at first a
paradox, but on reflection appears to be evident, that the ‘facts’ will
not only _look_ different but may really _be_ different from different
points of view and for different purposes. Once we permit ourselves to
consider this possibility we shall easily perceive that there often
are conflicts between ‘facts’, such that they cannot coexist for an
abstract logic, while, nevertheless, each of the conflicting facts
may be intelligible relatively to its own presuppositions and true
under its own conditions, so that the ‘contradiction’ between them is
generated merely because the logical statement has abstracted from the
special circumstances of the case.

This situation is, of course, recognized very familiarly and
universally in the case of _value-judgements_. We are all willing to
admit that one man’s meat may be another man’s poison, that it is vain
to dispute about tastes, and that the same mode of living does not
suit all constitutions and all circumstances. We recognize, too, that
profound differences of opinion and attitude exist, and always have
existed, among men. The temperamental differences which make e.g. one
man indolent another enterprising, one man daring another prudent, one
a conservative another a radical, one an optimist another a pessimist,
are so deeply rooted in human nature as to be, humanly speaking,
ineradicable. And if so, must it not be conceded that situations
occur which will inevitably, consistently, _and rightly_, be judged
differently by these different persons?

Again, it should be noted that these differences in valuation are not
merely subjective: they spring from objective differences in human
nature, and are as objective as any other facts about it. For example,
that certain persons dislike pork (because they cannot digest it), and
hate cats (because their presence makes them feel ill), rests as much
on a physiological fact of their constitution as that others suffer
from ‘hay fever’. Similarly, it is quite plausible to contend that
‘every little boy and girl that is born alive, is born a little liberal
or a conservative’, and certainly the normal growth of conservatism
as the individual mind ages is proof enough that changes of belief
depend on psychological law, and are correlated with the hardening of
tissue which is a general symptom of senescence. Again, is it possible
to imagine a situation so bad or so good that it cannot be interpreted
either optimistically or pessimistically? In most cases either
interpretation is quite easy, and the choice between them is effected
by sheer temperamental bias. If, then, we succeed in doing what the
natural man will always find difficult, and regard such differences of
opinion in a scientific and non-partisan way, must we not admit that
_both_ the conflicting standpoints are inevitable and justifiable?
Neither can be pronounced wrong in general and _per se_, though in
regard to a particular problem or occasion either may be. Let us
conclude, then, that it may really be a ‘fact’ that the ‘facts’ justify
one interpretation and attitude to one mind and another to another.

This argument is reinforced by the further consideration that even
the most objective statements of fact involve _value-judgements_
in their ultimate analysis. For they express, often explicitly and
always implicitly, the choices and valuations by which a variety of
pretenders to reality have been examined and sifted, and the most
valuable have been declared ‘truly real’. We have seen that in a
scientific inquiry the ‘facts’ must always be taken as _alleged_
facts, discovered up to date; hence a science must always be ready to
defend the ‘facts’ it recognizes, when they are challenged, and to
show wherein they excel conflicting allegations. The accepted ‘facts’
of a science, therefore, are always allegations which are thought to
possess greater _value_ than any known alternative; hence no sharp
or absolute distinction between judgements of fact and judgements of
value can be maintained. It becomes, moreover, quite possible that
incompatible allegations of fact may in the actual state of a science
be so nearly balanced that there is no convincing reason to prefer
one to another, or at any rate none that could prevail against any
ordinary temperamental bias. Consequently, in such cases the bias
will condition the visibility of the ‘fact’; it will be bathed in a
‘subjective’ atmosphere, and the ‘eye of faith’ will be necessary to
perceive it. No doubt such situations are inconvenient, and repellent
to the scientific spirit; but they do not occur only in the misty
regions of religion and philosophy, and scientific alternatives like
‘chance’ or ‘design’, ‘miracle’ or ‘law’, ‘mechanism’ or ‘vitalism’,
determinism or indeterminism are essentially of this order. There is no
reason, therefore, why logic should not recognize them and acknowledge
that the scientific ‘facts’ may be ambiguous, in the sense that further
experience and experiments are needed to determine their character.
As a rule, to judge by the past, further inquiry will resolve the
ambiguity; but it may well be an illusion to assume that it must do so,
and in some of the most important cases the decision will certainly be
long in coming.

Thus the student of animal behaviour will probably long be left with
a choice between minimizing the displays of animal intelligence and
assimilating them to the human, while it will probably always be
possible to put a pessimistic or an optimistic interpretation upon the
facts of life as a whole.

A scientific logic therefore should radically disabuse the mind of
any excessive trust in ‘facts’. It is a superstition that ‘facts’ are
plain, straightforward, and easy to discover; they are often subtle and
recondite and relative to circumstances, changing their aspect to suit
their scientific environment like any chameleon.

§ 32. (_c_) In considering the use of words in research, one cannot
of course overlook the obvious fact that the employment of words is
primarily determined by their established meanings, and that these
greatly limit our freedom to use them as we please. Words naturally
and inevitably suggest their established uses by their mere sounds,
and should always be used with a proper respect for their past history
and present meaning. To be sensitive to this appeal is the mark of
the educated scholar; but it does not require the investigator to
exhaust his energies in vain attempts to stereotype absolutely the
current meanings, and so to deprive words of their essential function.
For their essential function is after all to be instruments for the
conveying of actual meaning, and actual meanings are always more or
less new (cf. § 12). It occurs to a particular person in a particular
situation to express and convey a meaning which has never in its full
concreteness occurred before. If the novelty about this situation is
appreciable and important, it may well be that the old words will
not fully succeed in conveying the new meaning; and yet we shall
always endeavour to use them, and select from the accumulated wealth
of language the words which will suffice for our purpose. For the
alternative is worse; we cannot always be coining new words for every
new meaning we may desire to convey; they would not be understood or
remembered, and even if they were, a science that employed nothing
but technical terms, and was moreover compelled continually to
change them, because it would not use them to convey new meanings,
would speedily degenerate into an abstruse game, and could make no
progress. How impracticable such a policy would be may be gauged
by the grave inconvenience which even now systematists cause by so
frequently changing the scientific names of plants and animals. It is
indispensable, therefore, that words should retain a certain measure
of plasticity, in virtue of which they can be transferred from old
situations to new and be used to convey new meanings. Nor is there
usually any difficulty about thus imposing new duties on the old
terms; under the particular circumstances of the situation even wide
departures from the established meanings may remain intelligible, and
so the progress of science is not impeded.

The traditional logic, however, cannot treat the matter so lightly.
For the plasticity of words may always engender a conflict between
the old meaning and the new, between the scientific use of terms and
the traditional conventions about their use. And this can always
be represented as a defiance of the ‘laws of thought’. For if the
meaning of ‘_A_’ may be altered by the growth of knowledge, it will
no longer be true that everything once called ‘_A_’ is truly _A_,
nor that what was once incompatible with _A_ will continue to be so
for all time. Hence it is no longer necessarily true that ‘_A_ is
_A_’, and that _A_ cannot both be and not be _B_. It may be both in
different senses, and in what sense ‘_A_’ and ‘_B_’ should be taken
may be precisely the point at issue. Thus verbal contradiction ceases
to be a clear proof of error; it may be only a much-needed warning
that our terms have been developing new meanings. Hence, the ‘laws’
of Identity and Contradiction lose their last claims to be regarded
as statements of fact, and have to be conceived as ideal postulates
of just so much stability of meaning as is requisite for effective
understanding.[402] They can be applied to reality only hypothetically,
i.e. experimentally, to discover whether in a given situation the
natural growth in the meaning of the terms may _rightly_ be treated as
irrelevant, and does not vitiate the conclusion which the reasoning
forecasts. Now this problem can never be settled _a priori_ by
reasoning, but only by subsequent experience. Reasoning may forecast a
result which experience fails to confirm; when we discover that comets’
tails are not attracted by the sun but repelled, we do not declare
the facts ‘contradictory’, but modify our notion of ‘gravitation’,
and conceive it as inferior to ‘light pressure’ in its effects upon
particles of a certain minuteness.

It follows that no merely logical scrutiny of the terms of an
argument can ever settle a scientific question. If a ‘contradiction’
is real, it means either a difference of opinion between those
who make the incompatible assertions, or, in the case of a real
‘self-contradiction’, the uttering of ‘nonsense’ and a failure to
propound a meaning at all. But even the most glaring ‘contradictions’
may only be apparent, i.e. verbal: when we inquire into their actual
meaning we may find that they refer to a context in which its terms are
perfectly compatible. Thus the existence of a ‘round square’ may be
predicated of London, and a ‘triangle’s’ angles may equal or may exceed
two right angles, according as it belongs to Euclid’s geometry or to
Riemann’s.

§ 33. The problem of discovery, therefore, is never one of which the
solution can be guaranteed in advance. The resources of a science are
never sufficient to assure us of a prosperous issue of the research,
though, rightly understood, they yield important safeguards. A
recognition of the instrumental value of words as ancillary to meaning,
and of the limitations under which they labour, will guard the inquirer
against the terrible verbalism to which logic has been enslaved. A
critical attitude towards allegations about ‘facts’ will enable him to
minimize the dangers of error, deception, and bigotry. A conception
of ‘principles’ as working hypotheses will discourage a servile and
superstitious reverence for them, and justify the fullest freedom to
experiment with whatever ideas hold out hopes of verification and of
scientific progress. Together these three considerations will pretty
thoroughly emancipate inquiry from the shackles of any mechanical
scheme of ‘proof’. Indeed, proof in the old formal sense will have
become a chimera. It will no longer be possible to cherish the belief
in a self-sufficing, self-satisfied form of absolute proof, of which
the pure logician imagined himself the possessor and retailer.

Scientific proof, on the other hand, will be neither absolute nor
formal. It will not be absolute, because it will always be relative to
the actual condition of a science; it will not be formal, because it
will never be absolute. It will only be the best known interpretation,
and will always imply alternatives, to some of which it may wrongly
have been preferred, while to others it may be destined to succumb
(§§ 26, 27). It will be ‘valid’ so long as it is the strongest; but
to it, as to the priest of Diana Nemorensis, as to Uranus and Cronus,
will come the day when it is invalidated and superseded by a stronger
and better, descended, it may well be, from itself. Scientific proof
then will always be an _evaluation_ of evidence, a making the most of
the available resources of a science, a question of the _comparative
values_ of rival interpretations.

It stands to reason that such an evaluation cannot operate merely
with the criteria of formal logic. Indeed, of the processes known
to the traditional logic, only those which _cannot_ be represented
as ‘formally valid’ will be exemplified in scientific knowing. It
will not be possible to find any genuine cases of absolute certainty
or unconditional proof; but analogies, probabilities, hypotheses,
alternatives, even fallacies and fictions, will abound, and will
somehow have to be discounted. Clearly the evaluation of such things
will be a delicate affair; it cannot be accomplished by reciting
_Barbara Celarent_ and crudely applying a few simple mechanical
formulas. It will demand the energetic co-operation of the whole
intelligence, and indeed of the whole personality, and cannot scorn the
aid of psychological factors. For it is plain that the evaluation of
a complicated scientific situation will require both expert knowledge
of scientific detail and philosophic grasp of general principles
and connexions; it will need also ‘tact’, ‘judgement’, an ‘eye from
experience’, and a host of similar qualities that elude precise verbal
formulation. It will no longer be practicable to flatter mediocrity and
dullness, and to impede discovery, by proclaiming methods that dispense
with imagination, ingenuity, originality, boldness, enterprise, and
vainly endeavour to put genius for discovery on a par with mindless
pedantry in applying stereotyped and sterile rules.

§ 34. But just because a logic that recognizes the actual process of
discovery does not presume to dictate formal methods to the discoverer,
and leaves him a very free hand, it does not relieve him of any of the
responsibility for conducting his researches to a prosperous issue.
As there is no longer any pretence that any logical machinery can be
devised to guarantee success, success and failure become his personal
achievements. If he fails, he can no longer plead that it is not his
fault, seeing that he has kept every letter of the law and broken
no logical rule. This may be precisely _why_ he failed. Perhaps he
should have taken risks. He may have gathered such enormous masses
of fact that he could no longer see through them, nor select the few
that were relevant to his problem. He may have been so sensible of
the need for caution that he dared not speculate or move. He may have
devoted himself to unimportant problems or missed the important sides
of important problems, or have wandered away into barren wastes of
dialectics, or have got bogged in a mire of verbalism, or have pursued
elusive phantoms of unverifiable speculations. For there are clearly
many ways of failing. Only in whatever way he fails, his personal
failure is _pro tanto_ a failure of science to progress. Every science
has somehow to get hold of a clue to guide it through the labyrinth of
fact, and this clue has to lead it right, though it need not ‘follow
necessarily’ from previous knowledge.

Nevertheless, if, and in so far as, a researcher succeeds in making a
discovery, some of his personal credit is reflected upon his methods
_ex-post facto_. Their success does not, of course, establish their
formal ‘validity’; but it stops the mouth of those who argued that what
is ‘invalid’ must be worthless. Methods that succeed must have _value_,
a greater thing than ‘validity’, however far and however boldly they
departed from the canons of formal proof. The success has shown that
_in this case_ the inquirer was right to select the facts he fixed
upon as significant, and to neglect the rest as irrelevant, to connect
them as he did by the ‘laws’ he applied to them, to theorize about
them as he did, to perceive the analogies, to weigh the chances, as he
did, to speculate and to run the risks he did. But only in this case.
In the very next case, which he takes to be ‘essentially the same’ as
the last, and as nearly analogous as is humanly possible, he may find
that the differences (which always exist between cases) are relevant,
and that his methods and assumptions have to be modified to cope with
it successfully. But he should not be discouraged. For the ultimate
ground of the whole cognitive procedure by which we analyse the flow
of events is empirical. It is only an empirical fact that knowledge is
possible, i.e. that the course of events is such that human minds can
analyse it at all, that is, can pick out and construct cases of ‘the
same’, of which the course can be predicted by means of the (verbally)
stable formulas we call ‘the laws of nature’. For logic at any rate
these laws are neither supernatural behests nor metaphysical entities:
they are forms for classifying happenings, in which the blanks have to
be filled in with the variable values of the particular happenings.
What the _right_ values are, and even what is the _right_ formula to
apply, will always depend on the particular case which forms the actual
problem. It is only the empirical fact that the differences between
problems may so often be treated as irrelevant which generates the
illusion that problems may be solved in advance by general formulas: in
reality every problem in its full concreteness is unique, and we are
never absolutely sure that it will submit to the rule we apply to it.
Hence it is solved only when we come to it and find it amenable to our
methods; in principle it eludes logical prediction, because it can be
known as a ‘case’ of the successful ‘law’ only _after_ the experiment
has confirmed the forecast. To the inquirer, therefore, no result can
seem certain until it has occurred; it is only _ex post facto_ that
the logician can describe it as an indubitable case of some law from
which it follows of necessity. But in so doing he has changed it, and
repudiated the duty of describing actual knowing. All he is doing is
to rearrange a piece of knowledge, acquired without his aid by means
he condemns as illicit, in the order he is pleased to call ‘logical’.
This order has a certain aesthetic value, but it is emphatically _not_
the order of discovery, and throws no light on the process of acquiring
knowledge.

§ 35. What function then can be assigned to the logician’s reflection
on the workings of science? In view of his failure to substantiate his
claim to have provided a model for inquiry in his scheme of ‘proof’,
it might seem that he was either useless or pernicious. Useless, if
he merely devotes himself to constructing ‘ideals of proof’ which
he admits to have no relation to the actual problems of science;
pernicious, if he is prompted by these ideals to make demands with
which no science can comply, and to deliver judgements which would
paralyse the science that attempted to carry them into execution.
Fortunately, he cannot enforce them, and the sciences actually go
on their way, ignoring such ‘logic’. The proper inference from his
impotence is that he would do well to take up a position which is more
useful and more influential, if less pretentious.

Let the logician then give up the pretence of dictating to the
sciences and of judging the worth of scientific truth by rigid forms of
absolute proof; let him abandon the vain pursuit of ‘validity’. Nay,
more, let him renounce the claim to determine the scientific value of
an argument by a mere inspection of its logical character. Let him
confess that what alone he can criticize is the incongruities in its
verbal expression, and that its real value lies beyond his ken. If
he will concede all this, his reward will be that he has vindicated
for logic an important right of more real value than the claims he
has abandoned. For he will have obtained the right of summoning the
sciences to state their results in intelligible and consistent terms,
and to confront them with a problem when they do not. Just because he
does not presume to condemn them, and no longer ventures to declare
that incompatible and verbally ‘contradictory’ results are necessarily
wrong and worthless, but only urges that they are not intelligible as
they stand, and need to be reworded or inquired into farther, he gains
the right of _raising problems_, and stimulates the sciences to proceed
to solve them.

It should be noted, moreover, that the problems thus raised are
general, not special, i.e. are properly logical. The problem about
‘contradictory’ results is one about meaning, for contradictory
assertions cancel each other’s (apparent) meaning. This enables
the logician to keep the sciences engaged upon the logical problem
of solving the discrepancies between their results, so long as
the sciences do not form one complete and congruous system, i.e.
indefinitely.

Similarly the denial that truth is absolute is a general truth that
affects all the sciences. It should stimulate them all, for it means
that no statement is so perfect that it cannot be bettered and that no
limits can be set to the progress of science.

Other topics which are ‘logical’, because they concern the general
significance of scientific procedure and not the solution of particular
problems, are the nature and importance of selecting ‘facts’ and
the ‘laws’ they are taken to exemplify, the experimental attitude
and the framing of hypotheses, the evaluation of probabilities and
alternatives, the estimation of relevance and of verifications and of
the amounts of the latter which are requisite and the sorts of it which
are relevant. On all these points logic has hitherto had little or
nothing to say, mainly because they did not lend themselves to formal
treatment. Lastly, there are two extremely important subjects, which
are so vital to the logic of discovery that a brief discussion of them
may fitly conclude this essay. We may call them the problem of Novelty
and the problem of Risk.

§ 36. In Logic we are not concerned with the metaphysics of Novelty,
i.e. with the problem of whether there ever enter the world things
that are really and truly unforeseen and unpredictable, that pop into
it from nowhere, and if so, whether and how we can understand such
things. This problem is deep and difficult, and so, until recently,
philosophers have fought shy of it, and used to settle it off-hand by
a flat denial that such things could be in a ‘rational’ universe. But
now that M. Bergson has given us a radically new metaphysic, and that
we are beginning to perceive that the principles used to dispose of the
matter, viz. causality and the conservation of energy, are essentially
methodological, the question has become an open one.

Logic, however, has no need to probe it; it can treat it more simply.
For its purposes it can, and must, treat novelty as a real logical
fact. It is a psychological fact, and logic must note it, that every
moment of our life has for us a certain flavour of newness; it is
also a fact that every real judgement that is ever made has a certain
relation to novelty.[403] Its maker believes, either that it embodies
a new truth, or that though known to him it is new to his hearers. If
he did not believe this he would have no motive to make it. It would
be stale repetition, devoid of interest or value alike to him and to
others, whom he would merely bore by telling them what they, too, knew
already.

So far, then, the logical nature of novelty seems simple. It gives
rise to problems, however, when we consider the relation of the new
truth to the old. It is clear, in the first place, that the new
truth must affect the old. Even where we are willing to minimize its
novelty, and to call it merely an ‘extension’ of what we already
knew, it must modify it and change its value. For in the light of
the new developments the old truth _means more_: it has relations in
an enlarged field of knowledge. Moreover, the new truth is often not
merely an extension but also a _correction_, and the effect of the
correction may sometimes be revolutionary. It may even seem to upset
the old beliefs altogether, though human ingenuity is far too fertile
in building bridges (often only verbal) from the old to the new to
allow this impression to be permanent. Still in all these cases there
is more or less discrepancy between the new and the old.

The logician, however, should insist that this fact should not be
blinked. He should recognize the discrepancy, and emphasize its
significance, just because for other purposes it is usually convenient
to ignore it. For it is not only the source of real ambiguity in
the facts of science, and of the important differences of opinion
among men and of their obstinate persistence, but the justification
of the policy of open-mindedness and toleration which he regards as
necessary to scientific progress. Inasmuch as of every discrepancy
between the old truth and the new it will be possible to take two
views, and either to cling to the old or to put one’s trust in
the new, there will always be a party of conservation and a party
of innovation, or otherwise a conservative and a liberal bias, in
science as in politics. It is, moreover, futile to discuss, in the
abstract, which of them is right: for it would clearly be fatal to go
all lengths with either. Science could make no progress, either if
every novelty were at once condemned and suppressed because of its
failure to conform with the accepted doctrine, or if everything new
were hailed as true regardless of its concordance with the old truth,
so that the course of science became a series of radical revolutions
that had no consistent direction. In concrete cases of course both
sides are sometimes right, though historically the stronger bias men
have shown has been the conservative. What usually happens is that
the new truth is first denounced as an immoral invention which is
subversive of all intelligible order and cosmic rationality; it is then
quietly assimilated and not infrequently converted in the end into
the strongest support of the beliefs it was alleged to subvert. But
it would be a real gain if logic, by viewing this natural feature of
knowing in its generality, could induce men of science to take it more
calmly. If it were generally recognized that every claim to new truth,
however great the advantages it promises, necessarily entails certain
inconveniences, because the old beliefs and notions have to be modified
and readjusted, and this may involve too great an effort to be worth
while, or an effort too great for certain minds, it would be seen that
there are two sides to every question, and that both may be in a way
legitimate. If, in addition, we recognize that the parties concerned
usually have a bias which may render them dangerously blind to the case
of the other side, and that both should be admonished to discount their
bias duly, we shall have done not a little to secure fair-minded[404]
consideration, reasonable discussion, and intelligent choice between
the alternatives. And all this surely conduces to scientific progress.

It is clear, then, that the problem of relating the new to the old
always exists, and has a vital influence on the fortunes of every
science. But it is not capable of any formal or abstract solution _a
priori_. Which is to be preferred is a matter which must be left to the
expert who is cognizant of the circumstances of the case: logic can
help only by broadening his mind, and putting him on his guard against
his own personal bias, which might otherwise unconsciously determine
his decision.

§ 37. To admit that scientific inquiries concern problems, and that to
every problem (at least) two solutions may be propounded, between which
a choice has to be made, is to admit that knowledge _must take risks_
in order to progress. For there is always the risk of choosing the
wrong solution of a problem, i.e. the one which works _less_ well, just
as there are always risks of choosing a bad problem and of selecting
the wrong facts and the wrong theories to explain them withal.
Nevertheless, we ought not to resent this fact. For the taking of risks
is inevitable: we cannot escape it either by refusing to inquire or by
refusing to decide. For in either case we run the risk of missing a
valuable truth.

It is better, therefore, to recognize that every act of knowing must
involve risks, just as every act of living does; and this for the
simple reason that knowing is an activity comprised in living, and
every judgement is an _act_, which might have been left undone, or
for which another might have been substituted. The readiness of the
new conception of logic to emphasize the existence of risks in all
reasoning, and to sanction the willingness to take them, contrasts
markedly with the vain efforts of the old logic to play for safety, and
to make no move that was not absolutely necessary (cf. § 10). This was
why it postulated absolutely certain premisses, and would contemplate
nothing but ‘valid’ forms of reasoning. In its desire to elevate its
proofs above the perplexities and vicissitudes of mundane problems, the
old logic was expressing and comforting a deep-seated human craving:
for life is so replete with the most hideous risks that it is a natural
instinct to clutch at any promise of security. Hence the passionate and
almost religious reverence with which formal logic has been regarded
for over 2,000 years. Many philosophers still worship the syllogism,
because it seems to them an incomparable exemplar of absolute security
firmly fixed in the sphere of immutable necessity far above the flux
of phenomena, which it illumines with its steady radiance. But to
exalt in this way its ideal of proof, the old logic had to pay a heavy
price. The price was cutting the ideal wholly adrift from the actual,
contemplating exclusively a situation which could never occur in
real life, and leaving all actual inquiry to its devices, unstudied,
uncriticized, and unaided. Thus, the splendid aloofness of the logical
ideal was purchased by a total repudiation of actual science. To
many philosophic minds this price does not seem excessive. The more
useless truth is made to appear, the purer and more admirable it seems
to them. An ideal, they think, should be like Aristotle’s ‘god’; it
should attract, without uplifting, and without running the risk of
contamination by the dirty work of life.

These philosophers have always claimed for their attitude that it is
philosophic _par excellence_. But their claim, besides being based
on a somewhat rare personal idiosyncrasy, is not really sound. It is
neither self-consistent nor a sound policy for life. An ideal which
repudiates the actual, and yet professes somehow to be its exemplar,
is left in the impossible condition of the Platonic ‘Idea’. If it were
as superhuman as it claims to be, no human mind could even speculate
about it. And we have seen (§ 13) that it is not in the end possible
to devise a form of proof which is bomb-proof against the attacks of
experience and superior to verification.

Is it not wiser, then, to admit that life has its claims upon science,
and science upon logic? We simply _must_ have a science that can
handle human life and meet human needs, and does not degenerate into a
game with arbitrary and fantastic rules which depart from the actual
conditions of life in any direction and to any distance unrestrained
imagination carries them; and our logic must deign to study such
a science. If to do so it has to ‘scrap’ its antique ‘ideals’, to
abandon its pose of an inhuman, impassible, infallible aloofness, and
to interest itself in the doubting, questioning, guessing, trying,
risking, blundering, correcting, achieving that make up the sum of
human knowledge, it will receive an ample reward in the gratitude of
man for a logic that has entered his service, and in the salutary
influence which it will exercise upon his actions.


_Conclusions_

(1) We have shown, negatively, that the notion of a form of proof, by
which conclusions can be absolutely demonstrated by dint of pure logic
alone, is a delusion. No such form can be constructed (§§ 13, 15), and
if it could, it could neither find scientific material worthy of it
(§ 28), nor contain the material which is fabricated by the sciences.

(2) We have thereby shown that formal logic cannot represent the
logical nature of discovery or of any of the processes of actual
knowing, and must condemn them all as ‘invalid’ (§§ 18, 20, 26, 28).

(3) We have seen that a logic which attempts to understand actual
knowing cannot prescribe to the sciences how they are to solve their
problems (§ 33).

(4) But it _can_ grasp the general character of scientific procedure,
appreciate its difficulties and dangers, understand the expedients for
meeting them, and trace it to its roots in the constitution of the
human mind and in the needs of life (§ 35).

(5) In virtue of its general grasp of the aim and method of the
sciences a logic of science can at times offer advice to scientists:
it may draw their attention to the general problems which their work
involves, but which are apt to be overlooked by specialists, such as
the claims of consistency and novelty and the regulation of risks
(§ 36). Or, better still, if they will study it themselves, it may
broaden their minds and enable them to handle these general problems
for themselves far more effectively than a pure logician could do it
for them.

(6) By abandoning its pretensions to rigour and conclusiveness logic
does not really lose: it gains immensely by coming into contact with
science and life, and becoming of use in the world.




INDEX


  Abano: _see_ Peter of Abano.

  Abercrombie, John, _Inquiries concerning the Intellectual Powers_,
        249 _n._

  Abi ‘Uṣaibia, Ibn, 227 and _n._ 4, 228 _n._ 5, 229.

  Abu’l Faraj Gregory, cited, 228 _n._ 3.

  Achillini, Alessandro, 95, 98, 105;
    _Annotationes anatomiae_, 95 _n._ 4.

  Adelphus, Johannes (J. A. Muelich), _Mundini de omnibus humani
        corporis interioribus membris Anathomia_, 93 _n._ 3,
        96 _n._ 2, 128 fig. 22.

  Adrian IV, Pope, St. Hildegard’s correspondence with, 5.

  Agobard, St., of Lyons, on witchcraft, 191.

  Agrippa, Cornelius, opposition to witch mania by, 214, 215.

  Al Afdal, Sultan, 226.

  Alberic the younger, Benedictine monk, of Monte Cassino, 21.

  Albertotti, G., _Nuove osservazioni sul ‘Fasciculus medicinae’ del
        Ketham_, 90 _n._ 3.

  Albertus Magnus, 22, 32, 51, 113, 114.

  Albigensian heresy, 192.

  Alcoatim, anatomical work by, 121.

  Alexander III, Pope, St. Hildegard’s correspondence with, 5.

  Alexander V, Pope, 99;
    post-mortem examination on, 94.

  Alexander of Neckam, 22, 23.

  Alexander of Tralles, 182.

  Alhazen, 122.

  ‘Ali ‘Abbas: _see_ Haly Abbas.

  Al Qifty, _Classes Philosophorum et astronomorum et medicorum_, 229
        and _n._ 3.

  Al Tamimi al Muqaddasi, 231 _n._ 2.

  Alva, Duke of, 221.

  Ampère, cited, 21.

  _Analecta Bollandiana_, 6 _n._ 2.

  Anastasius IV, Pope, St. Hildegard’s correspondence with, 5.

  Anatomy in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, 79-86;
    Bolognese works on anatomy, 92-7;
    drawings of anatomical structures, &c., 44, 45, 46, 81, 83, 84,
        87-91, 96, 105, 112, 114, 116, 117, 120, 121, 122, 127, 128,
        129, 130, plates XVIII, XXVII, XXVIII, XXIX, XXX, XXXI, XXXII,
        XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI.
    _See also_ Manfredi, Hieronymo.

  Anaximander, 257.

  _Annalen des Vereins für Nassauische Alterthumskunde und
        Geschichtsforschung_, 13 _n._ 3.

  Anstis, John, _History of the Garter_, 167.

  Antipodes, the, mediaeval conception of, 22, 23.

  _Anzeiger für Kunde der deutschen Vorzeit_, 12 _n._ 2.

  Apocalypse, the, 20.

  Aquinas, 51, 193.

  Arabians, influence on early science and on medicine, 17, 18, 29, 84,
        86, 92, 93, 115, 120, 121, 129, 225-34.

  _Archaeological Journal_ (British Archaeological Association),
        166 _n._ 1, 172 _n._ 3, 178.

  Archimedes, 253.

  _Archiv für die Geschichte der Medizin_, 38 _n._ 4, 44 _nn._ 4, 5,
        45 _n._ 1, 87_nn._1, 3, 4, 89 _n._ 2, 114 _n._ 3, 121 _n._ 1,
        122 _n._ 1, 127 _n._ 5.

  _Archiv für die Geschichte der Naturwissenschaften und der Technik_,
        121 _n._ 1.

  _Archiv für die zeichnenden Künste_, 87 _n._ 5.

  _Archiv für Pathologie_, 13 _n._ 4, 226 _n._ 1.

  Argellata, Pietro d’, description of the examination of the body of
        Pope Alexander V, 94 and _n._ 2.

  Aristippus, translation of Aristotle’s _Meteorologica,_ 24 _n._

  Aristotle, 288;
    anatomical conceptions of, 46 _n._, 126, 127;
    logic and dialectics, 238, 240, 243, 245, 248, 250, 252, 254, 255,
        257, 259;
    physiological theories, 50 _n._ 4, 60, 61, 71, 73, 75;
    theory of the elements, 17, 25.
    Works cited:
      _Analytica posteriora_, 238, 245 _n._, 252 _n._, 257 _n._;
      _De caelo et mundo_, 17;
      _De partibus animalium_, 46 _n._ 1, 126 _nn._ 4, 5;
      _Historia animalium_, 126 _nn._ 3, 4, 5;
      _Meteorologica_, 24.

  Armengaud de Blaise, Latin translation of Maimonides on Poisons,
        226 _n._ 1.

  Arnald of Villanova, charge of sorcery against, 193.

  Astrology, 38, 47, 97, 98.

  Athanasius, St., 4, 7.

  _Atti e Memorie della R. Deputazione di Storia Patria per le Provincie
        di Romagna_, 99 _n._ 2.

  Augsburg, Peace of, 194.

  Augustine, St., 17, 20, 51, 113, 198, 216.

  Avempace, 17.

  Averroes, 17, 95.

  Avicebron, 17, 43 _n._ 1.

  Avicenna, 17, 18, 86, 93, 94, 95, 101, 105, 113, 121, 122, 127, 129,
        182.

  Azzolino, first recorded case of dissection at Bologna, 92.


  Bacher, W., _Moses ben Maimon_, 229 _n._ 1.

  Bacon, Francis, _Natural and Experimental History_, 180.

  Bacon, Roger, anatomical writings and drawings by, 113, 116, 121,
        122, plate XXXVIII (_a_);
    on the structure of the universe, 22.

  Baillet, Dom Louis, 55 _n._;
    _Les Miniatures du Scivias de sainte Hildegarde_, 7 _nn._ 1, 2,
        12 _n._ 1.

  Baker, F., cited, 79 _n._ 2.

  Balgi, Vincenzo, cited, 30 _n._

  Baluze, Étienne, _Miscellanea novo ordine digesta et non paucis
        ineditis monumentis opportunisque animadversionibus aucta
        opera ac studio J. D. Mansi_, 9 _n._

  Bamberg, witch-burning in the bishopric of, 194, 204, 208-10, 212.

  Barach, C. S., cited, 19 _n._ 2, 37 _n._ 1, 38 _n._ 1.

  Baret, John, of Bury St. Edmunds, 172.

  Bar Hebraeus, cited, 228, 229.

  Bartholomaeus Anglicus (Bartholomaeus de Glanvilla), anatomical
        drawings of, 80 fig. 1, 85 fig. 4;
    _De Proprietatibus Rerum_, 129 _n._ 2.

  Battandier, Albert, _Sainte Hildegarde, sa vie et ses œuvres_,
        5 _n._ 3;
    cited, 16 _n._ 3, 21 _n._ 3, 23 _n._ 5.

  Bayford, Robert, _Enchiridion Medicum_, 181.

  Beck, Theodor, _Die Galenischen Hirnnerven in moderner Beleuchtung_,
        118 _n._ 1.

  Bede, the Venerable, 22.

  _Beiträge zur Geschichte der Philosophie des Mittelalters_,
        113 _n._ 3.

  Benedict, St., 4, 7.

  Benivieni, Antonio, _De abditis nonnullis ac mirandis morborum et
        sanationum causis_, 81 and _n._ 3.

  Benjamin of Tudela, 20.

  Bentivoglio, Annibale, 104.

  Bentivoglio II, Giovanni:
    Manfredi’s dedications to, 101, 103, 104, 105, 130;
    portrait of, 104, plate XXXVII.

  Bergson, Henri Louis, 285.

  Berkshire, ancient custom concerning rings and the cure of epilepsy,
        173.

  Berlin: _see_ Manuscripts.

  Bernard, Claude, 68.

  Bernard of Chartres, 37 _n._ 1.

  Bernard, St., abbot of Clairvaux, 4;
    St. Hildegard’s correspondence with, 5.

  Bernard Sylvestris: _see_ Sylvestris.

  Berners, Lord, _Cloister Life of Charles V_, 173 and _n._ 3.

  Beroaldo, Filippo, 98, 99.

  Berthelet, Thomas (printer), 129.

  Bertuccio (professor of surgery at Bologna), anatomical demonstrations
        by, 82, 94.

  Bichat, X., 66.

  Bingen, 2, 4, 7, 8, 12, 20.

  Binsfeld, Peter, Bishop of Trèves, persecution of witches by, 197,
        198, 222;
    _Tractatus de confessionibus maleficorum_, 197, 198 _n._ 2,
        222 _n._ 2.

  Binz, Dr. K., biography of Dr. John Weyer, 189.

  Biological theories, 59 ff.

  Birth and death and the nature of the soul, Hildegard’s views on,
        49, 50, plates XIX, XX.

  Black Death, the, 193.

  Blaise: _see_ Armengaud de Blaise.

  Blake, William, 53.

  Böckelheim, 2, 3.

  Boethius, 17, 21.

  Böhmer, J. H., _Ius ecclesiasticum_, 206 _n._ 2.

  Boleyn, Anne, and the use of cramp-rings, 174, 175, 176.

  Bologna, anatomical studies at, in the fifteenth century, 78, 79,
        81 _n._, 82, 84;
    anatomical works emanating from, 92-7;
    astrology at, 97-8;
    colleagues of Manfredi at University, 98;
    Manfredi’s house, 99;
    Medical Faculty at, 92;
    Palazzo dei Bentivoglio, 104.

  Boncompagni, Baldassare, _Della vita e delle opere di Gherardo
        Cremonese, &c._, 17 _n._ 2.

  Boniface, St., on witchcraft, 191.

  Boniface VIII, Pope, 201.

  Boorde, Andrew, on the blessing of cramp-rings, 176;
    _Breviarie of Health_, ibid.;
    _Introduction of Knowledge_, ibid.

  Borelli, J. A., 68.

  Bosco: _see_ Johannes Sacro Bosco.

  Boselli, E., 55 _n._

  Boswell, James, cited, 182.

  _Botanik in kulturhistorischer Entwickelung_, 12 _n._ 2.

  Bourdeaux: _see_ John of Bourdeaux.

  Boyle, Robert, 32.

  Bracara, synod of, 193.

  Brand, J., _Popular Antiquities_, 173 _n._ 3.

  Braun, Dr., torture of witches by, 208, 209, 210.

  Brewer, J. S., _State Papers: Budaei Epistolae_, 173 _n._ 6.

  Bristol: _see_ Manuscripts.

  Brockelmann, K., _Geschichte der arabischen_ _Litteratur_, 225 _n._ 1,
        228 _n._ 5, 229 _n._ 3.

  Brown, Sir Thomas, on witchcraft, 214, 222, 223.

  Budé, Guillaume, and the use of cramp-rings, 173, 174.

  Buffon, _Histoire Générale des Animaux_, 66.

  _Bulletin de la Société française d’histoire de la médecine_,
        39 _n._ 2.

  _Bulletin of the Johns Hopkins Hospital_, 79 _n._ 2.

  Bunge, Gustav, physiological views of, 64.

  Burnet, Bishop Gilbert, _History of the Reformation_, on the blessing
        of cramp-rings, 174, 175, 177.

  _Bury Wills_ (Camden Society), 172 _n._ 2.

  Burzio, Niccolò, _Bononia illustrata_, 97 _n._ 4.


  Cabalistic systems of the Jews, 20.

  Caetani, Michelangelo, duca di Sermoneta, _La materia della Divina
        Commedia di Dante Allighieri dichiarata in VI tavole_,
        31 fig. 4.

  Cambridge: _see_ Manuscripts.

  Cardan, Jerome, 214.

  Carpi, Giacomo Berengario da, 95-7, 105, 106;
    _Anathomia Mundini_, 96 _n._ 1;
    _Commentaria cum amplissimis additionibus super anatomia Mundini_,
        96 _n._ 1.

  Carpi, Hugo da, anatomical drawings of, 90.

  Carpzov, Benedict, death-sentences on witches and sorcerers by, 206.

  Cartesian physiology, principles of, 68.

  _Cartulaire de l’Université de Montpellier_, 79 _n._ 1.

  Cathari (Albigensian sect), persecution of, 4, 192.

  Cavazza, Francesco, _Le Scuole dell’ antico studio bolognese_,
        99 _n._ 3.

  Caxton, William, story of Edward the Confessor and his ring in the
        _Golden Legend_, 165-6.

  Cervetto, G., _Di alcuni illustri anatomici italiani del decimoquinto
        secolo_, 89 _n._ 2.

  Chantilly: _see_ Manuscripts.

  Charlemagne, laws of, regarding witchcraft, 191.

  Charles I, 126 _n._ 2.

  Charles II and the Royal Society, 274.

  Charles V, Emperor of Germany and King of Spain, use of cramp-rings
        by, 173.

  Charms against diseases, 181, 182. _See also_ Cramp-rings.

  Chartres, Bernard of: _see_ Bernard.

  Chaucer’s use of the word ‘cramp’, 180.

  Chauliac, Guy de, _Grande Chirurgie_, 81 _n._ 2, 82, 83 _n._,
        84 _n._ 1, 94, 105, 121,
  plates XXIX, XXX;
    fourteenth-century post-mortem scene from, 81 _n._ 2.

  Choulant, L., _Geschichte und Bibliographie der anatomischen Abbildung
        nach ihrer Beziehung auf anatomische Wissenschaft und bildende
        Kunst_, 87 _n._ 5, 89 _n._ 2.

  Christian view of witchcraft: early times, 190, 191, 198, 216;
    mediaeval age, 191-4, 201;
    Reformation period, 190, 191, 194-6, 213, 220, 221;
    later times, 195, 204, 222.

  Chrysostom, St., 216.

  Clement V, Pope, 201.

  Clerval, A., _Les Écoles de Chartres au Moyen Âge_, 19 _n._ 2,
        37 _n._ 2.

  Cleves, Duke William of, 215, 220, 221, 224.

  Cleves, witchcraft in the duchy of, 220.

  Colle, Francesco Maria, _Storia scientifico-letteraria dello Studio
        di Padova_, 82 _n._ 2.

  Coloman, King of Hungary, on witchcraft, 191.

  Como, witch-burning in the diocese of, 205.

  Concoreggio, Giovanni da, _Lucidarium et Flos Medicinae_, 95 and
        _n._ 1.

  Conrad, Emperor, Hildegard’s correspondence with, 5.

  Conrad of Marburg, cited, 192 _n._ 6.

  Constantine Africanus, medical writings of, 13, 16, 43, 121, 127;
    _De communibus medico cognitu necessariis locis_, 44 and _n._ 2,
        114 _n._ 1;
    _De humana natura_, 45, 50;
    _Pantechni. Theorice_, 127 _n._ 4.

  Conybeare, F. C., _Key of Truth_, 192 _n._ 4.

  Copenhagen: _see_ Manuscripts.

  Copernicus, 43.

  Copho of Salerno, _Anatomia porci_, 43, 44.

  _Cotta’s Jubiläums-Ausgabe_, 8 _n._ 2.

  Craigie, Dr., _History of Anatomy_, 93 _n._ 2.

  Cramp, early use of the term, 180-2.

  Cramp-rings, the blessing of, by the kings and queens of England,
        165-87;
    ceremonies of blessing cramp-rings used on Good Friday, 184-7;
    office of consecration used by Queen Mary, 177-9, 182-4;
    origin of the ceremony, 165, 179, 180, 182;
    ceremonial observed, 167, 168, 171, 178, 179;
    its disuse, 179, 180;
    bequests of cramp-rings, 172, 176;
    diseases covered by the word ‘cramp’, 180-2.

  Crawfurd, Raymond: The Blessing of Cramp-rings; a chapter in the
        history of the treatment of epilepsy, 165-87;
    _King’s Evil_, cited, 171 _n._

  Cremona, Gerard of: _see_ Gerard.

  Cross, ceremonial of offering and creeping to the, 167, 168, 169.

  Cuyer, E., _Histoire de l’Anatomie plastique_, 86 _n._ 2.


  Dallari, Umberto, _I rotuli dei lettori legisti e artisti dello
        studio bolognese dal 1384 al 1799_, 98 _n._ 1.

  Dalton, J. C., _Doctrines of the Circulation_, 130 _n._ 3.

  Damascenus, Johannes, 113.

  Daniel, Book of, 20.

  Dante, _Divina Commedia_, 23;
    _Quaestio de aqua et terra_, 30 _n._;
    scheme of the universe, 1, 21, 22, 23, 30, 31.

  Daremberg, C., editor of _Liber subtilitatum_, 13;
    _Œuvres anatomiques, physiologiques et médicales de Galien_,
        118 _n._ 1.

  Darwinian theory, 236, 242, 245, 257.

  _Datura Stramonium_, or thorn-apple, 199.

  _De caelo et mundo_, 17.

  Delation, 202.

  Demiurgus, the, 192.

  Demoniacs, 199, 215-22.
    _See also_ Witchcraft.

  Denmark, witchcraft in, 222.

  _De sagarum natura et potestate, &c._, 208 _n._ 1.

  Descartes, biological theories of, 67, 68.

  Devil, mediaeval views of the, 190, 192-4, 207, 216.

  Devonshire, ancient custom concerning rings and the cure of epilepsy,
        173;
    charm against fits, 182.

  Dewey, Professor John, 259.

  Dialectical proof in relation to scientific discovery, 238.

  _Dictionary of National Biography_, 230 _n._ 1.

  Diefenbach, J., _Der Hexenwahn_, 195 _n._ 1, 221 _n._ 1.

  Diogenes Laertius, 259 _n._

  Disibode, St., Hildegard’s life of, 3.

  Disibodenberg, convent of, 2, 42.

  Dissection: _see_ Anatomy.

  Dresden: _see_ Manuscripts.

  Driesch, Hans, biological theories of, 62-4, 69, 70, 71, 73, 75;
    _Analytische Theorie_, 62, 70, 75;
    _Vitalismus_, 75.

  Dryander, Johannes, _Anatomia_, 95 _n._ 3, 112.

  Duval, M., _Histoire de l’Anatomie plastique_, 86 _n._ 2.


  Edward the Confessor and his ring, story of, 165, 166.

  Edward II and the blessing of cramp-rings, 167, 169.

  Edward III and the blessing of cramp-rings, 169, 170.

  Edward IV and the blessing of cramp-rings, 171.

  Edward VI and the blessing of cramp-rings, 175, 177.

  Ehrenberg: _see_ Philip of Ehrenberg.

  Eibingen, 8.

  Eleemosyna Rolls of Edward III, 169, 170.

  Elements, mediaeval theories of the, 25-30.

  Elizabeth of Schönau, visions of, 21, 22.

  Ellis, Sir Henry, 178.

  England, first printed map of, 99, 100.

  Epilepsy and other spasmodic disorders, blessing of cramp-rings for
        the cure of, 165-87.

  Essling, Prince d’, _Les livres à figures vénitiens de la fin du
        XV^e siècle et du commencement du XVI^e_, 89 _n._ 5.

  Euclidean geometry, 239, 240, 250, 280.

  Eugenius III, Pope, Hildegard’s correspondence with, 5.

  Eye, anatomy of the, 118-22.

  Ezekiel, Book of, 20.


  Fantuzzi, Giovanni, _Notizie degli scrittori bolognesi_, 97 _n._ 2,
        99 _n._ 1.

  Faust, magic feats of, 215, 216, 218.

  Ferckel, Christoph, cited, 121 _n._ 1.

  Ferrari, H. M., _Une Chaire de Médecine
  au XV^e siècle; Un professeur à l’université
  de Pavie de 1432 à 1472_, 86 _n._ 3.

  Florence, Uffizi Gallery, painted representation of the Cross, 10,
        11, plate X.

  Fludd, Robert, _Historia utriusque cosmi_, 41 figs. 6, 7, 43;
    _Philosophia sacra seu astrologia cosmica_, 42 fig. 8, 43.

  Fonahm, A., cited, 86 _n._ 1, 130 _n._ 1.

  Förner, Bishop, witch-burning by, 208.

  Fortescue, Sir John, _Defensio Iuris Domus Lancastriae_, 171.

  Fracastor, 43.

  Frankfort, witchcraft at, 221.

  Frati, Ludovico, _La vita privata di Bologna dal secolo XIII al XVII_,
        84 _n._ 2.

  Frederic Barbarossa, Emperor, Hildegard’s correspondence with, 5.

  Froissart, 173.

  Fulda, witch-burning in the bishopric of, 194.

  Fundis, Giovanni de, 98.


  Gabotto, Ferdinando, _Bartolomeo Manfredi e l’Astrologia alla Corte
        di Mantova_, 97 _n._ 4.

  Galen, 17, 43, 44, 46 _n._ 1, 61, 67, 84, 86, 87, 97, 105, 110,
        111 _n._, 113 and _n._ 2, 115, 118, 125, 126, 127, 128,
        136 _n._, 182;
    _De usu partium corporis humani_, 110 _n._ 1, 118 _n._ 2;
    _De Hippocratis et Platonis decretis_, 118 _n._ 2;
    illuminated codex of, 87, 88, plate XXXIV;
    Περὶ ἀνατομικω̑ν ἐγχειρήσεων, 127 _n._ 1.

  Galileo, 43.

  Garbo, Tommaso di, 94.

  Gardiner, Stephen, Bishop of Winchester, and the use of cramp-rings,
        174, 175, 177.

  Garrod, H. W., _Manili Astronomicon_, 39 _n._

  Garter, Order of the, 178.

  Gebeno, prior of Eberbach, mediaeval writer, 15.

  Geffcken, J., _Dr. Johann Weyer_, 189 _n._

  _Gentleman’s Magazine_, 169 _nn._ 1, 2, 173 _nn._ 1, 2, 4, 174 _n._ 1.

  _Geographical Journal_, 99 _n._ 4.

  George, John, prince-bishop, witch-burning by, 208.

  Gerard of Cremona, scientific works of, 17, 18, 128.

  Gerbi, Gabriele de (de Zerbis), 95, 98, 105;
    _Liber Anatomiae corporis humani et singulorum membrorum illius_,
        95 _n._ 2.

  German block book (_Symbolum Apostolicorum_) of the fifteenth century,
        39, plate XVII.

  Gersdorff, Hans von, _Feldt- und Stattbüch bewerter Wundartznei_,
        anatomical drawings, 129 fig. 23, 130 _n._ 2.

  Gertrude of Robersdorf, visions of, 21.

  Ghazali, Ibn, 51, 113.

  Gilbert, William, 32.

  Glanvilla, Bartholomaeus de: _see_ Bartholomaeus Anglicus.

  Glaubrecht, O., _Die Schreckensjahre von Lindheim_, 204 _n._ 1.

  Gloucester, Eleanor Cobham, Duchess of, charged with witchcraft, 193.

  Gneyth Cross, homage paid to the, 168, 169, 170.

  Godefrid, the monk, biography of St. Hildegard by, 5, 7, 51.

  Goeje, M. J. de, _Catalogue of Arabic Manuscripts in the Library at
        Leyden_, 228 _n._ 2.

  Goelicke, A. O., _Introductio in historiam litterariam anatomes_,
        81 _n._

  Goethe, _Am Rhein, Main und Neckar_, 8 _n._ 2.

  Golius, James, collection of Oriental MSS., 229, 230.

  Good Friday, the hallowing of cramp-rings on, and offering and
        creeping to the cross, 167-9, 171, 179, 184-7.

  Gotch, F., on biological phenomena, 70, 71.

  Grado, Giammatteo Ferrari da (Matthaeus de Gradibus), _Expositiones
        super vigesimam secundam Fen tertii canonis Avicennae_,
        86 _n._ 3;
    _Practica_, ibid.

  Great Schism, the, 193.

  Greek dialectics, 237, 238, 259.

  Greeks, biological speculations of the, 61.

  Gregory VII, Pope, forbids inquisition for witches and sorcerers, 192.

  Gregory IX, Pope, 6.

  Gregory XI, Pope, 192 _n._ 6.

  Gregory Nazianzen, St., 216.

  Grimm, Wilhelm, _Wiesbader Glossen_, 5 _n._ 2, 8 _n._ 3.

  Guibert, the monk, life of St. Hildegard by, 5 _n._ 3, 16 _n._ 3.

  Guido de Vigevano: _see_ Vigevano.

  Gurlt, E., _Biographisches Lexikon der hervorragenden Aerzte_, 103.

  Guy de Chauliac: _see_ Chauliac.


  Haeser, H., _Geschichte der Medizin_, 225 _n._ 1, 226 _n._ 10.

  Haldane, J. S., on biological phenomena, 65, 66.

  Haller, Albrecht von, _Bibliotheca anatomica_, 81 _n._, 103 _n._ 1.

  Haly Abbas, 105, 113, 121, 127.

  _Handbuch der Geschichte der Medizin_, 92 _n._ 4.

  Hardouin, Jean (Harduinus), _Collectio regia maxima conciliorum
        graecorum et latinorum_, 191 _n._ 1.

  Harpsfield, Nicholas, _Historia Anglicana Ecclesiastica_, on the
        blessing of cramp-rings, 179, 180.

  _Harvard Studies in Classical Philology_, 18 _n._ 1.

  Harvey, William, 32;
    _Exercitatio anatomica de motu cordis et sanguinis_, 126 _n._ 2;
    _Prelectiones anatomiae universalis_, 126 and _n._ 1.

  Haskins, C. H., cited, 18 _n._ 1.

  Haupt, Moriz, _Zeitschrift für deutsches Alterthum_, 5 _n._ 2,
        8 _n._ 3.

  Head, anatomy of the, 106-18.

  Heart, anatomy of the, 122-30.

  Heavenly city, Hildegard’s vision of the, 54, plate XXV.

  Heidelberg: _see_ Manuscripts.

  Helmont, F. M. van, 68.

  Helmreich, ΓΑΔΗΝΟΥ περὶ χρείας μορίων, 118 _n._ 1.

  Henri de Mondeville: _see_ Mondeville.

  Henrici, Professor, 55 _n._

  Henry II (of England) and his consort, Hildegard’s hortatory letters
        to, 5.

  Henry IV and the blessing of cramp-rings, 170.

  Henry VII and the blessing of cramp-rings, and the ceremonial of
        touching for the evil, 167, 168, 172.

  Henry VIII and the blessing of cramp-rings, 175, 176, 177.

  Henschen, Godfrey, 8.

  Heppe, H., _Geschichte der Hexenprocesse_, 191 _n._ 1, 192 _n._ 2,
        193 _n._, 203 _n._ 3, 206 _nn._ 1, 2, 208 _n._ 4.

  Heraclitus, 256.

  Herbert, J. A., 55 _n._;
    _Illuminated Manuscripts_, 10 _n._ 1.

  Heresy and witchcraft, identification of, by the Church, 192-4, 201,
        220, 221.

  Hermann the Dalmatian, 17 _n._ 1.

  Hermas, Shepherd of, 20.

  _Hermes_, 24 _n._

  Herrade de Landsberg, _Hortus deliciarum_, 20, 21, 22, 23, 27,
        40 fig. 5, 42, 48 fig. 9, 55 _n._

  Hertford, Edward Seymour, Earl of, present of cramp-rings by, 175.

  Hilaire the Great, St., of Poitiers, 38 _n._ 4.

  Hildegard, St. (1098-1180), The Scientific Views and Visions of, 1-55.
    Biographical details, 2-6, 51-2;
    bibliographical note, 6-12;
    canonization, proposals for, 6;
    correspondence, 3-5;
    journeys, 4;
    language, 12, 15, 16;
    miniatures, 7, 8, 10-12, 34, 35, 49, 51, plates I, III, VI-IX, XI;
    musical compositions, 3;
    pathological basis of visions, 51-3;
    patristic influence, 17;
    sources of scientific knowledge, 15-22;
    visions, 3, 7, 10, 11, 16 _n._ 3, 17, 20, 21, 22, 27, 32, 33, 34,
        35, 36, 40, 43, 51-5.
    Hildegard’s views on--anatomy and physiology, 14, 18, 30, 43-8;
      astrology, 18, 34;
      birth and death and the nature of the soul, 49-51;
      elements, the, 25-30;
      macrocosm and microcosm, 9, 16 _n._, 18, 19, 20, 30-43, 45, 51;
      structure of the material universe, 8, 13, 14, 18, 19, 20, 21,
        22-30, 39;
      winds, 25-7, 34.
    Works: _Ad praelatos Moguntienses_, 7;
      _Explanatio regulae sancti Benedicti_, 4, 7;
      _Explanatio symboli sancti Athanasii ad congregationem sororum
        suorum_, 4;
      _Expositiones evangeliorum_, 7;
      _Ignota lingua_, 5, 7, 15 _n._;
      _Ignotae litterae_, 7;
      _Liber divinorum operum simplicis hominis_, 3, 7, 8-12, 14,
        16 _n._, 18, 19, 20, 22 _n._, 24 _n._, 25, 27, 28, 30, 32,
        34, 35, 36, 39 _n._, 40, 42, 51, plates V (_b_), VI, VII,
        VIII, IX, XI;
      _Liber epistolarum_, 7, 12;
      _Liber orationum_, 7;
      _Liber vitae meritorum per simplicem hominem a vivente luce
        revelatorum_, 3, 6, 12, 14 _n._, 19, 20, 21;
      _Litterae villarenses_, 7;
      _Lives_ of St. Disibode and St. Rupert, 3, 7;
      _Quaestionum solutiones triginta octo_, 4;
      _Scivias_, 3, 6, 7, 8, 12, 14 _n._, 18, 19, 20, 21, 24 _n._, 27,
        28, 30, 34, 42 _n._, 49, 53, plates III, IV;
      _Symphonia harmoniae celestum revelationum_, 7.
    Spurious scientific works: _Beatae Hildegardis causae et curae_,
        12, 14, plate V (_a_);
      _Revelatio de fratribus quatuor mendicantium ordinum_, 15;
      _Speculum futurorum temporum_, 15;
      _Subtilitatum diversarumque creaturarum libri novem_, 13, 14.

  Hippocrates, 218, 219.

  Hirsch, A., _Biographisches Lexikon der hervorragenden Aerzte_, 103,
        225 _n._ 1.

  Hopstock, H., cited, 86 _n._ 1, 130 _n._ 1.

  Horst, G. C., cited, 204, 205, 206;
    _Dämonomagie_, 204 _n._ 1, 205 _n._, 206 _n._ 4;
    _Zauberbibliothek_, 204 _n._ 1, 205 _n._

  Hoton, Thomas de, rector of Kyrkebymisperton (Yorkshire), 172.

  Hubrecht, A. A. W., 57.

  Hugh of St. Victor, _De arca Noe mystica_, 20;
    _De bestiis et aliis rebus_, 45 and _n._ 2, 46 _n._ 2.

  Hunain ben Ishak, anatomical writings of, 120, 121.

  Hundt, M., anatomical drawings of, 96 _n._ 2, 105;
    _Antropologium, de hominis dignitate natura et proprietatibus_,
        112 fig. 11.

  Huntington, Robert, Bishop of Raphoe, 229, 230.

  Husee, John, and the use of cramp-rings, 175, 176.

  Hutchinson, F., _Historical Essay concerning Witchcraft_,
        195 _n._ 3, 222 _n._ 2.


  _Illustrations of the manners and expences of antient times in
        England_, 177.

  Innocent IV, Pope, 6.

  Innocent VIII, Pope, bull of, concerning witchcraft, 193.

  Institoris, H., _Malleus Maleficarum_, 194 and _n._, 201-3.

  Isaac Judaeus, _Viaticum_, 44.

  Isidore Hispalensis, 13, 16, 17, 19, 21, 22, 27.

  Italian miniatures, mediaeval, 10, 11.


  James I, _Daemonologia_, 214.

  Janssen, J., _Geschichte des deutschen Volkes_, 190 _n._, 212 _n._

  _Janus_, 113 _n._ 2.

  Jenkinson, John Wilfred: Vitalism, 59-78.

  ---- biographical notice of, 57-8;
    list of books and papers by, 58;
    portrait of, plate XXVI.

  Jerome, St., 216.

  Jessen, C., cited, 12 _n._ 2.

  Jesu Aly, anatomical work by, 121.

  _Jewish Quarterly Review_, 20 _n._ 2.

  Jews, dissemination of scientific knowledge in the Middle Ages by,
        17, 20.

  Joan of Arc, 193.

  Job, Book of, 24, 50, 216.

  Johannes Sacro Bosco, 23.

  John XXII, Pope, 6.

  John of Bourdeaux, tract on the plague by, 102.

  John of Peckham, anatomical writings of, 121.

  Johnson, Dr. Samuel, 182.

  Jong, P. de, _Catalogue of Arabic MSS. in the Library at Leyden_,
        228 _n._ 2.

  Joseph, H. W. B., _Logic_, 239 _n._

  Jourdain, Charles, _Dissertation sur l’état de la philosophie
        naturelle ... pendant la première moitié du XII^e siècle_,
        19 _n._ 2.

  _Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society_, 44 _n._ 5.

  Judaeus: _see_ Isaac Judaeus.

  Junius, John, burgomaster of Bamberg, account of his trial for
        witchcraft, 209-12.

  Justin Martyr, 216.


  Kaiser, Paul, _Hildegardis causae et curae_, 12 _n._ 2.

  Kant, _Critique of the Teleological Judgement_, 71-3, 75;
    scheme of _a priori_, 250.

  Keller, G., edition of Herrade de Landsberg’s _Hortus deliciarum_,
        21 _n._ 4, 40 fig. 5, 48 fig. 9.

  ‘Ketham’, _Fasciculus medicinae_, anatomical drawings, 89, 90,
        91 fig. 7, 96 _n._ 2, 117 fig. 17, plate XXVII.

  Khalfa, Haji, bibliography of Arabic works, 228 _n._ 5, 229.

  Kiesewetter, K., _Die Geheimwissenschaften_, 199 _n._ 2.

  King’s Evil, touching for the, 167, 171, 172, 178.

  Koning, P. de, _Traité sur le calcul_, 228 _n._ 5;
    _Trois Traités d’Anatomie arabes_, 113 _n._ 1, 127 _n._ 3.

  Kötzendörffer, Dr., torture of witches by, 208, 209.

  <DW62>, G., _Experimentarius medicinae continens Trotulae curandarum
        Aegritudinum muliebrium ... item quatuor Hildegardis de
        elementorum, etc._, 13 _n._ 1.


  Laboulbène, A., _Les anatomistes anciens_, 92 _n._ 4.

  Lactantius, 216.

  Landsberg: _see_ Herrade de Landsberg.

  Laplace, P. S., 66.

  Laufer, Berthold, _Beiträge zur Kenntnis der Tibetanischen Medizin_,
        44 _n._ 5.

  Lavoisier, 66.

  Lawrence, abbot of Westminster, 166.

  Lea, H. C., _History of the Inquisition of the Middle Ages_,
        191 _nn._ 1, 2, 192 _nn._ 1, 3, 6, 193 _n._, 208 _n._ 2,
        214 _n._

  Lecky, W. E. H., on witchcraft, 223.

  Leclerc, L., 227; _Histoire de la médecine arabe_, 226 _n._ 5,
        229 _n._ 4.

  Leersum, E. C. van, _Miniaturen der lateinischen Galenos-Handschrift
        der kgl. öffentl. Bibliothek in Dresden_, 87-8 _n._

  Leibnitz, 32, 68.

  Leitschuh, Dr. F., _Beiträge zur Geschichte des Hexenwesens in
        Franken_, 209 and _nn._ 1-3.

  Lemgo, witch persecution at, 207.

  Leonardo da Vinci: _see_ Vinci.

  Lerida, public anatomies at, in the fourteenth century, 79.

  Levy, Reuben: The _Tractatus de Causis et Indiciis Morborum_
        attributed to Maimonides, 225-34.

  Leyden: _see_ Manuscripts.

  Linacre, Thomas, and the use of cramp-rings, 173, 174, 180.

  Linde, Antonius van der, _Die Handschriften der Königlichen
        Landesbibliothek in Wiesbaden_, 6 _n._ 3, 8 _n._ 1.

  Lindheim, persecutions for witchcraft at, 204, 205, 206.

  Lisle, Lady, and the use of cramp-rings, 175, 176.

  _Lisle Papers_, 175 _nn._ 3, 4, 176 _nn._ 1-4.

  Lockwood, D. P., _The Sicilian Translators of the Twelfth Century
        and the First Latin Version of Ptolemy’s ‘Almagest’_,
        18 _n._ 1.

  Logical proof and scientific discovery, 235-89.

  Lones, T. E., _Aristotle’s Researches in Natural Science_, 126 _n._ 5.

  Louis VII, 5.

  Lucca: _see_ Manuscripts.

  Luciferans, or devil worshippers, sects of, 192.

  Luther, Martin, 216, 224.

  Lutherans, persecution of, 194, 195.

  Luzzi, Mondino di: _see_ Mondino.


  Macer, Floridus, 13.

  Macray, W. D., _Annals of the Bodleian_, 229 _n._ 5, 230 _n._ 1.

  Macrocosm, mediaeval and Renaissance theories of the, 32, 38, 43;
    Hildegard’s views on, 9, 16 _n._, 18, 19, 20, 30-43,
        plates VII, VIII.

  Madrid: _see_ Manuscripts.

  Magicians, 215, 218.
   _See also_ Witchcraft.

  Magnus, Dr. Thomas, and the use of cramp-rings, 174, 180.

  Maimonides, the _Tractatus de Causis et Indiciis Morborum_ attributed
        to, 225-34;
    other works: Aphorisms, 232, 233;
    on Asthma and on Poisons, 226;
    _Tractatus de Morbo Regis Aegypti_, 226;
    _Tractatus de Regimine, Sanitatis_, 226.

  Malagola, Carlo, _statuti dell’ Università e dei collegi dello Studio
        bolognese_, 79 _n._ 3.

  Manfredi, Bartolomeo, anatomical drawing attributed to, 88,
        plate XXXVI.

  Manfredi, Giovanni, 99.

  Manfredi, Hieronymo, professor of medicine at Bologna (1463-93):
    account of his career, 97-9;
    astrological studies, 97-9, 102, 103.
    Manuscript _Anothomia_ of Manfredi, 103-64;
      translation of selected passages, with commentary:
        the brain, 107-15;
        cranial nerves, 110, 111, 118;
        eye, 118-22;
        head, 106-18;
        heart, 122-30;
        skull, 106, 107;
      Italian text of the _Anothomia_, 130-64.
    Printed works, 99-103;
      _Centilogium de medicis et infirmis_, 102;
      _Editio princeps_ of Ptolemy, 99;
      _Liber de homine: cuius sunt libri duo. Primus liber de
        conservatione sanitatis (‘Il Perchè’)_, 101;
      _Prognosticon ad annum 1479_, 98, 102;
      _Prognosticon anni 1481_, 102;
      _Tractato degno et utile de la pestilentia_, 101.
    Other works attributed to Manfredi:
      _Chiromantia secundum naturae vires ad extra_, 103;
      _Ephemerides astrologicae operationes medicas spectantes_, 103;
      _Quaestiones subtilissimae super librum aphorismorum_, 103.

  Manichean heresy, 192.

  Mansell, _Monumenta Ritualia_, 168.

  Mansi, Giovanni Domenico, Archbishop of Lucca, 9.

  Mantegna, Andrea, anatomical studies of, 86.

  Manuscripts:
    Berlin:
      Al Qifty, _Classes philosophorum et astronomorum et medicorum_,
        229 _n._ 3.
    Bristol Reference Library:
      French MS. of the _Grande Chirurgie_ of Guy de Chauliac, 84 _n._,
        plate XXX (_b_).
    British Museum:
      Al Qifty, _Classes philosophorum et astronomorum et medicorum_,
        229 _n._ 3;
      Bacon, Roger, _De scientia perspectiva_, 116 fig. 14;
      diagram of the eye, 122, plate XXXVIII (_a_);
      cramp-ring made from offertory pennies, 173;
      _De fundacione ecclesie Westm’_, 166;
      Eleemosyna Rolls of Edward III, 169, 170;
      Muhaḏḏib ed Din, _Delectus de Medicina_, fragment, 228;
      Household Accounts of Henry IV, 170.
    _Bury Wills_ (published by the Camden Society), 172 _n._ 2.
    Cambridge, University Library:
      Life of Edward the Confessor, 166, plate XXXIX.
    Chantilly:
      anatomical sketches from the MS. of Guy de Vigevano, 87,
        plates XXXI, XXXII.
    Copenhagen, Royal Library:
      _Beatae Hildegardis causae et curae_, 12, plate V (_a_).
    Dresden:
      illuminated codex of Galen, 87, 88, plate XXXIV.
    Heidelberg, University Library:
      illuminated MS. of the _Scivias_ of St. Hildegard, 8,
        plates III, IV.
    Leyden, University Library:
      Al Qifty, _Classes philosophorum et astronomorum et medicorum_,
        229 _n._ 3;
      Golius’s Oriental MSS., 230;
      Muhaḏḏib ed Din, _Delectus de Medicina_, 228, 230.
    London Society of Antiquaries:
      Proclamation on the Creepyng of the Crosse, 169.

    Lucca, Municipal Library: illustrated codex of the _Liber divinorum
        operum simplicis hominis_ of St. Hildegard, 8-12, 22, 25, 28,
        32, 34, 35, 39 _n._, 40, 42, plates V (_b_), VI-IX, XI.
    Madrid, Escurial: Al Qifty, _Classes philosophorum et astronomorum
        et medicorum_, 229 _n._ 3.
    Montpellier, Bibliothèque de la Faculté de Médecine: French MS. of
        the _Grande Chirurgie_ of Guy de Chauliac, 81 _n._ 2,
        plate XXIX.
    Munich, 87 _n._ 1.
    Oxford, Bodleian Library: astrological work translated from the
        Arabic by Hermann the Dalmatian, 17 _n._;
      diagrams of internal organs, 87, 88;
      dissection scene, _c_. 1298, 81, plate XXVIII (_b_);
      ‘Five Figure’ anatomical series, 44, 87 _n._, 88 fig. 6,
        plates XVIII, XXXIII;
      Hieronymo Manfredi, _Anothomia,_ 90, 103-6, 130-64;
      Marsh’s Oriental MSS., 229;
      Muhaḏḏib ed Din, _Delectus de Medicina_, 227, 228;
      _Tractatus de Causis et Indiciis Morborum_, attributed to
        Maimonides, 225, 227, 229, 231, 234, plate XLI.
    Paris, Bibliothèque nationale: ninth-century MS. with diagram
        showing relation of human and cosmic phenomena, plate XIV;
      MSS. with figures illustrating signs of the Zodiac, 38, 39,
        plates XV, XVI;
      illustrating the anatomy of Henri de Mondeville, 87,
        plate XXVIII (_a_);
      Orders of the King of England’s household, 13 Henry VIII, 167,
        168;
      _Tractatus de Causis et Indiciis Morborum_, alleged copy, 225;
      tracts by Maimonides, 225, 226, 227, 229, 234.
    Pisa University Library (Roncioni MS.): anatomical drawings,
        87 _n._ 4, 127 fig. 21.
    Raudnitz: Library of Count F. Zdenho von Lobkowicz, anatomical
        drawings, 87 _n._ 1.
    Record Office, London: Wardrobe Accounts of Edward III, 170;
      Account Books of Richard II, 170.
    Rome, Vatican Library: Provençal translation of the _Grande
        Chirurgie_ of Guy de Chauliac, 83 _n._, plate XXX (_a_).
    Westminster, Library of the Roman Catholic Cathedral: Manual of
        Queen Mary Tudor, 175, 177-9, plate XL.
    Wiesbaden, Nassauische Landesbibliothek: works of St. Hildegard,
        6-8, 9 fig. 2, 12 _n._, 14, 22, 23, 49, 51, 54, plates I-IV,
        XII (_a_, _b_), XIII, XIX-XXV.

  Manuscripts, illuminated, 7, 8, 10-12, 166, 177-9, plates I-IV,
        V (_b_), VI-IX, XI-XIII, XIX-XXV, XXXIX, XL.

  _Mappaemundi_, 22.

  Marbod of Anjou, 13.

  Marburg: _see_ Conrad of Marburg.

  Marburg, Protestant University of, 221.

  Marsh, Narcissus, Archbishop of Armagh, collection of Oriental MSS.,
        229.

  Martin, W., _Miniaturen der lateinischen Galenos-Handschrift der kgl.
        öffentl. Bibliothek in Dresden_, 88 _n._

  Martinotti, G., _L’insegnamento dell’ Anatomia in Bologna prima del
        secolo XIX_, 92 _n._ 4, 103 _n._ 2.

  Mary I, Queen, and the blessing of cramp-rings, 175, 177;
    the Queen’s Manual, with the Office of Blessing, 175, 177-9;
    miniature of, 177-9, plate XL.

  Mathematics and scientific proof, 238, 239, 241, 255, 263, 269.

  Mathews, Norris, _Early Printed Books and MSS. in the Bristol
        Reference Library_, 84 _n._ 1.

  Mayence Commission (1489), 8.

  Mazzatinti, _Inventari dei Manoscritti delle Biblioteche d’Italia_,
        103 _n._ 4.

  Medici, Lorenzo de’, 104.

  Medici, Michele, _Compendio storico della scuola anatomica di Bologna
        dal Rinascimento delle Scienze e delle Lettere a tutto il Secolo
        XVIII_, 92 _n._ 1, 103 _n._ 2;
    _Della vita e degli scritti degli anatomici e medici fioriti in
        Bologna dal comincio del secolo XIII_, 92 _n._ 1, 93 _n._ 1,
        97 _n._ 1.

  Meiningen, witch-burning at, 208.

  Melancholia, 213, 217, 221.

  ‘Melothesia’, 38, 39 _n._., 41 figs. 6, 7, plates XV, XVI.

  Messahalah, writings of, 19, 27, 30, 39 _n._ 3;
    _De Orbe_, 17, 18, 29.

  Metabolism, 60, 65, 68, 70, 76.

  Methodological assumptions, 266, 267;
    fictions, 251.

  _Methodus medendi certa clara et brevis_, 44 _n._ 2.

  Metz, witchcraft at, 215.

  Meyer, L., _Die Periode der Hexenprocesse_, 199 _n._ 1.

  Microcosm, mediaeval and Renaissance theories of the, 32, 38, 43;
    Hildegard’s views on, 9, 16 _n._, 18, 19, 20, 30-43;
    drawings, 42 fig. 8, plate VIII.

  Migne, _Patrologia Latina_, 4 _n._, 6, 13 _n._ and ff.

  Miniatures: miracles at the tomb of Edward the Confessor, in
        Norman-French MS., 166, plate XXXIX;
    of Queen Mary Tudor, 177-9, plate XL;
    of St. Hildegard, 7, 8, 10-12, 34, 35, 49, 51, plates I, III,
        VI-IX, XI.

  Mirandola, Johannes Franciscus Picus, _Disputationes adversus
        astrologos_, 98 and _n._ 3.

  Molitor, U., _Tractatus de lamiis_, 222 and _n._ 1.

  _Monatshefte der Comenius-Gesellschaft_, 189 _n._

  Mondeville, Henri de, drawings of dissections in works of, 87,
        plate XXVIII (_a_);
    on the anatomy of the eye, 121;
    writings of, 126, 128-9.

  Mondino de Luzzi, professor of surgery at Bologna, 79, 82, 85, 86,
        89, 90, 93, 94, 95, 96, 105, 106, 111 _n._, 113, 115, 118, 126,
        130, 136 _n._

  Mons, Count William of, 220.

  Mons, witchcraft at, 220.

  Monte Cassino, monastery of, 16, 21, 44.

  Monteferrato, Giorgio di, collection of medical tracts by, 89.

  Montpellier, anatomical teaching at, in the fourteenth century, 79,
        94. _See also_ Manuscripts.

  _Monuments et Mémoires publiés par l’Académie des Inscriptions et
        Belles-Lettres_, 7 _n._ 1.

  Moses ibn Tibbon, 226 _n._ 3.

  Muelich, J. A.: _see_ Adelphus, Johannes.

  Muhaḏḏib ed Din Abu’l Hasan Ali ibn Aḥmad, _Delectus de Medicina_,
        227, 228, 230.

  Müller, A., 227 _n._ 4.

  Müller, Johannes, on vitalism, 65, 66.

  Mûsa ibn Maimûn, 227, 231, 232, 234.

  Myer, Isaac, _Qabbalah: the philosophical writings of Solomon ben
        Yehudah ibn Gebirol_, 43 _n._ 1.


  Nahe, river, 2, 3.

  Nardi, Luigi, _Chartularium Studii Bononiensis_, 98 _n._ 1.

  Neckam: _see_ Alexander of Neckam.

  Neisse, persecutions for witchcraft at, 204, 205.

  Nemesius, 51, 113.

  Neoplatonism, 33, 37.

  Neo-vitalism: _see_ Vitalism.

  Newton, Isaac, 253.

  Nicaise, E., _La Grande Chirurgie de Guy de Chauliac_, 82 _n._ 1,
        121 _n._ 2.

  Nicholas I, Pope, condemns torture of witches, 192.

  Nicodemus, Gospel of, 20.

  Nicoll, A., Catalogue of Oriental MSS. in the Bodleian Library,
        230 _n._ 2.

  Nixon, J. A., _A New Guy de Chauliac MS._, 84 _n._ 1.

  Nordenskiöld, A. E., _Facsimile Atlas till Kartografiens äldesta
        Historia_, 99 _n._ 4.

  Nördlingen, torture of witches at, 213.

  Norfolk, Thomas Howard, eighth Duke of, 176.

  _Northamptonshire, Rare and Curious Tracts Illustrative of the
        History of_, 195 _n._ 2.

  Northumberland Household Book, cited, 168.

  Norwich, Registry of Wills, 176 _n._ 5.

  _Notes and Queries_, 175 _n._ 3.


  Origen, 222.

  Orioli, Emilio, _Chartularium Studii Bononiensis_, 98 _n._ 1.

  Orlandi, P. A., _Notizie degli scrittori bolognesi_, 98 _n._ 2.

  Osiander, Andrew, 8.

  Oxford, Ashmolean Museum: drawing of dissection scene attributed to
        Bartolomeo Manfredi, 88, plate XXXVI. _See also_ Manuscripts.


  Padua, public anatomies at, in the fifteenth century, 79, 81 _n._, 82.

  Pagel, J. L., _Die Anatomie des Heinrich von Mondeville_, 121 _n._ 3;
    _Die Chirurgie des Heinrich von Mondeville_, 129 _n._ 1;
    _Maimuni als medizinischer Schriftsteller_, 229 _n._ 1.

  Painters, early Renaissance, anatomical studies of, 86.

  Palladius, Peter, on the treatment of witches, 195.

  Papenbroch, Daniel, 8.

  Paracelsus, 32, 42, 43, 61, 214;
    _Labyrinthus medicorum errantium_, 42 _n._

  Paré, Ambroise, 214.

  Paris, public anatomies at, in the fifteenth century. _See also_
        Manuscripts.

  Pascal, on principles of conscience, 200.

  Pastor, L., _Geschichte des deutschen Volkes_, 190 _n._

  Paulicians, the, of Armenia, 192 _n._ 4.

  Pauline writings, 21.

  Peckham: _see_ John of Peckham.

  Pepys, Samuel, 181.

  Peter of Abano, charge of sorcery against, 193.

  Petrocello, psychological writings of, 114.

  Petrus, Henricus, 44 _nn._ 2, 3, 114 _n._ 1.

  Peyligk, K., anatomical drawings of, 96 _n._ 2, 105;
    _Philosophiae naturalis compendium_, 116 fig. 15, 122 _n._ 2.

  Philip of Ehrenberg, prince-bishop, witch-burning by, 208.

  Philips, Mary, executed for witchcraft, 195.

  Physicians, College of, 173.

  Physiological theories, 59 ff.

  _Physiologus_, 13.

  Piot, Eugène, _Le Cabinet de l’amateur_, 90 _n._ 1.

  Pisa: _see_ Manuscripts.

  Pitra, Cardinal J. B., 16 _n._ 3;
    _Analecta sacra_, 4 _n._ 4, 5 _n._ 1, 6, 12 _n._ 2, 14 _n._ 3,
        19 _n._ 1, 20 _n._ 2, 21 _n._ 1.

  Plague, Manfredi’s treatise on the, 101, 102.

  Plato, 245, 255, 256, 259, 270, 288.

  Pliny, 13.

  Pocock, Edward, 230, 231 _n._ 1;
    editor of Bar Hebraeus’s works, 228 _nn._ 4, 5.

  Poincaré, M., _Science et Méthode_, 254 _n._ 1.

  Pollaiuolo, Antonio, anatomical studies of, 86.

  Polydore Vergil and the use of cramp-rings, 172, 180.

  Poole, R. Lane, _Illustrations of the History of Mediaeval Thought
        in the Departments of Theology and Ecclesiastical Politics_,
        19 _n._ 2, 37 _n._ 4.

  Porphyry, 38.

  Porta, Baptista, 199.

  Portal, A., _Histoire de l’Anatomie et Chirurgie_, 81 _n._

  Post-mortem examinations in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries,
        81, plates XXVIII (_b_), XXIX.

  Power, Maura, _An Irish Astronomical Text_, 39 _n._ 3.

  Prague, public anatomies at, in the fifteenth century, 79.

  Pratzel, Dr. Veit, burnt for witchcraft, 206.

  Pretorius, _Von Zauberei und Zauberern_, 203 _n._ 3.

  _Proceedings of the Royal Society of Medicine,_ 81 _n._ 1.

  _Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries_, 177-8.

  Proof, logical, and scientific discovery, 235-89.

  Protagoras, 259.

  Psychoids, theory of, 64, 65, 68, 71, 73, 75, 76.

  Psychology, mediaeval, 51.

  Ptolemy, _Almagest_, 17, 18;
    astronomy of, 264; Manfredi’s edition of the _Cosmographia_ and
        _Tabulae Cosmographiae_, 99.

  Pusey, E. B., Catalogue of Oriental MSS. in the Bodleian Library,
        230, 231.


  _Quaderni d’anatomia_, 86 _n._ 1.


  Rabbinowicz, J. M., _Traité des Poisons de Maimonide_, 226 _n._ 1.

  Rashdall, Hastings, _Universities of Europe in the Middle Ages_,
        97 _n._ 3.

  Ratdolt, Erhard, experiment in colour printing by, 90.

  Raudnitz: _see_ Manuscripts.

  _Regimen sanitatis Salerni_, 13, 18, 21.

  Reisch, Gregorius, _Margarita philosophiae_, anatomical drawings,
        117 fig. 18, 120 fig. 19, 122 and _n._ 2.

  Remy, Nicholas, inquisitor of Lorraine, account of witch-trials,
        196-8, 200;
    _Daemanolatria_, 196, 200 _n._ 1.

  Renaissance anatomy: _see_ Anatomy.

  Renzi, S. de, _Collectio Salernitana_, 13 _n._ 1, 18 _nn._ 1-5,
        39 _n._, 43 _n._ 2, 44 _n._ 1, 114 _n._ 2.

  Reuss, F. A., 14 _n._ 1;
    _De Libris physicis S. Hildegardis commentatio historico-medica_,
        13 _n._ 3;
    _Der heiligen Hildegard Subtilitatum diversarum naturarum
        creaturarum libri novem, &c._, 13 _n._ 3.

  _Revue des questions historiques_, 5 _n._ 3, 16 _n._ 3, 21 _n._ 3,
        23 _n._ 5.

  _Revue scientifique pour la France et pour l’Étranger_, 92 _n._ 4.

  Rhazes, 93, 105, 110, 113, 120, 121, 127, 182;
    _Almansur_, 110 _n._ 2.

  ‘Rheumatic rings’, 182.

  Rhineland, spread of scientific knowledge in the, 17-20.

  Richard II and the blessing of cramp-rings, 170.

  Richardus Anglicus (Richard of Wendover), anatomical work by, 105,
        121.

  Rieu, C., _Supplement to the Arabic MSS. in the British Museum_,
        228 _n._ 1.

  Rivoli, Duc de, _Bibliographie des livres à figures vénitiens_,
        90 _n._ 2.

  Robersdorf: _see_ Gertrude of Robersdorf.

  Robertson, J. M., _Letters on Reasoning_, 223 _n._ 2.

  Rome: _see_ Manuscripts.

  Rondelet, William, anatomizes his son, 81 _n._

  Rose, Valentine, cited, 24 _n._

  Roth, F. W. E., account of St. Hildegard, 5 _n._ 3;
  _Lieder und unbekannte Sprache der h. Hildegardis_, 5 _n._ 2.

  Rotterdam, witch-burning at, 219, 220.

  Roux, Wilhelm, 63.

  Rupert, St., Hildegard’s life of, 3, 7.

  Rupertsberg, convent of, 2, 3, 8, 42.


  Sacro Bosco: _see_ Johannes Sacro Bosco.

  St. George’s Cross, 178.

  St. Victor: _see_ Hugh of St. Victor.

  St. Vincent of Beauvais, 191.

  Salerno, 13, 18, 43, 44, 45, 93, 114.
    _See also_ Copho _and_ Trotula.

  Saliceto: _see_ William of Saliceto.

  Sandys, J. E., _History of Classical Scholarship_, 19 _n._ 2,
        37 _n._ 3.

  Santini, U., _Cenni statistici sulla Popolazione del Quartiere di
        S. Proclo in Bologna_, 99 _n._ 2.

  Saphir ben Levi, Jacob, 226 _n._ 3.

  Savoy, senate of, witches condemned by, 208.

  Säxinger, J., _Ueber die Entwickelung des medizinischen Unterrichts
        an der Tübinger Hochschule_, 79 _n._ 4, 81 _n._

  Schiller, F. C. S.: Scientific Discovery and Logical Proof, 235-89;
    _Formal Logic_, 236, 246 _n._ 2, 273 _n._, 274 _n._, 279 _n._,
        285 _n._;
    _Humanism_, 274 _n._;
    _Studies in Humanism_, 274 _n._

  Schmelzeis, J. P., _Das Leben und Wirken der heiligen Hildegardis_,
        5 _n._ 2.

  Schneider, A., _Die Psychologie Alberts des Grossen_, 113 _n._ 3.

  Schönau: _see_ Elizabeth of Schönau.

  Scientific discovery and logical proof, 235-89.

  Scot, Reginald, _Discovery of Witchcraft_, 214, 223.

  Scribonius, W. A., Professor of Philosophy at Marburg, on testing
        witchcraft by water, 207.

  Secker, Archbishop, 230.

  Seidel, Ernst, _Drei weitere anatomische Fünfbilderserien aus
        Abendland und Morgenland_, 44 _n._ 4, 87 _n._ 1.

  Seneca, 32.

  Serarius, Nicolaus, 8.

  Sermoneta, duca di: _see_ Caetani, Michelangelo.

  Seville, Isidore of: _see_ Isidore Hispalensis.

  Seymour, Edward, Earl of Hertford: _see_ Hertford.

  Shakespeare’s use of the word ‘cramp’, 181.

  Shaw, Elinor, executed for witchcraft, 195.

  Sidgwick, Alfred, cited, 247 _n._, 259.

  Sighinolfi, Lino, _L’Architettura Bentivolesca in Bologna e il
        Palazzo del Podestà_, 104 _n._

  Signorelli, Luca, anatomical studies of, 86.

  Sillib, Professor, 55 _n._

  Simpson, Sparrow, 178.

  Singer, Charles: A Study in Early Renaissance Anatomy, with a new
        text: the _Anothomia_ of Hieronymo Manfredi (1490), 79-164.
    ---- The Scientific Views and Visions of Saint Hildegard, 1-55.
    ---- _Allegorical Representation of the Synagogue, in a Twelfth-
        century Illuminated MS. of Hildegard_, 20 _n._ 2;
      _Thirteenth-century Miniature illustrating Medical Practice_,
        81 _n._ 1;
      _The Figures of the Bristol Guy de Chauliac MS._, 84 _n._ 1.

  _Sitzungsberichte der kaiserlichen Akademie der Wissenschaften_,
        12 _n._ 2.

  Smith, R., titular bishop of Chalcedon, 175.

  Socrates, 259.

  Soldan, W. G., _Geschichte der Hexenprocesse_, 191 _n._ 1, 192 _n._ 2,
        193 _n._, 203 _n._ 3, 206 _nn._ 1, 2, 208 _n._ 4.

  Solomon, Wisdom of, 21, 24, 28.

  Sorbelli, Albano, _I Primordi della Stampa in Bologna_, 99 _n._ 4;
    _La Signoria di Giovanni Visconti a Bologna_, 97 _n._ 1;
    _Le Croniche Bolognesi del Secolo XIV_, 97 _n._ 1.

  Sorcerers, 192-8, 200, 202, 204-6, 215.
    _See also_ Witchcraft.

  Soul, nature of the, biological definition of, 59-61;
    Hildegard’s views on, 1, 50, 51.
    _See also_ Vitalism.

  Spee, Father, _Cautio Criminalis_, on trials for witchcraft, 204
        and _n._ 2, 207 _n._ 2, 221 _n._ 2.

  Spielmann, M. H., 55 _n._

  Sponheim, 2, 3.

  Sporley, Richard, monk of Westminster, 166.

  Sprenger, J., _Malleus Maleficarum_, 194 and _n._, 201-3.

  Stahl, George Ernest, 61.

  Starling, Professor E. H., 70.

  Steele, R. R., 55 _n._

  Steinschneider, M., _Catalogus Librorum Hebraeorum in Bibliotheca
        Bodleiana_, 226 _n._ 10, 231 _n._ 2;
    _Die hebräischen Uebersetzungen des Mittelalters und die Juden als
        Dolmetscher_, 226 _nn._ 3, 10;
    _Gifte und ihre Heilung, eine Abhandlung des Moses Maimonides_,
        226 _n._ 1.

  Strabus, Walafrid, 13.

  Strassburg, witch-burning at, 205.

  Straub, A., edition of Herrade de Landsberg’s _Hortus deliciarum_,
        21 _n._ 4, 40 fig. 5, 48 fig. 9.

  _Studi e Memorie per la Storia dell’ Università di Bologna_,
        92 _n._ 4, 103 _n._ 2.

  Stumpff, F. G. A., _Historia nervorum cerebralium ab antiquissimis
        temporibus usque ad Willisium nec non Vieussensium_, 118 _n._ 1.

  Sudhoff, Karl, cited, 38 _nn._ 2, 5, 45 _n._ 1, 87 _n._ 4, 121 _n._ 1,
        127 _n._ 5;
    _Abermals eine neue Handschrift der anatomischen Fünfbilderserie_,
        44 _n._ 4;
    _Augendurchschnittsbilder aus Abendland und Morgenland_, 122 _n._ 1;
    _Die kurze ‘Vita’ und das Verzeichnis der Arbeiten Gerhards von
        Cremona, von seinen Schülern und Studiengenossen kurz nach dem
        Tode des Meisters (1187) zu Toledo verabfasst_, 17 _n._ 2;
    _Drei weitere anatomische Fünfbilderserien aus Abendland und
        Morgenland_, 44 _n._ 4, 87 _n._ 1;
    _Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Anatomie im Mittelalter_, 44 _n._ 4,
        87 _n._ 2, 105 _n._;
    _Eine Pariser ‘Ketham’ Handschrift aus der Zeit König Karls VI_,
        89 _n._ 4;
    _Illustrationen medizinischer Handschriften und Frühdrucke_,
        122 _n._ 1;
    _Neue Beiträge zur Vorgeschichte des Ketham_, 89 _n._ 4;
    _Tradition und Naturbeobachtung_, 44 _n._ 4, 90 _n._ 4;
    _Weibliche Situsbilder von ca. 1400-1543_, 90 _n._ 4;
    _Weitere Beiträge zur Geschichte der Anatomie im Mittelalter_,
        44 _n._ 5.

  Sudhoff, Walther, _Die Lehre von den Hirnventrikeln_, 114 _n._ 3.

  Suffolk charm against rheumatism, 182.

  _Summi in omni philosophia viri Constantini africani medici operum
        reliqua_, 44 _n._ 3.

  Syllogism, the, as a form of proof, 238, 240-50, 253, 288.

  Sylvestris, Bernard, of Tours, 37 _n._ 1;
    _De mundi universitate sive megacosmus et microcosmus_, 17, 19, 20,
        30, 32, 36, 38.

  _Symbolum Apostolicorum_, 39 _n._ 1, plate XVII.


  Taylor, H. Osborn, _The Mediaeval Mind_, 23 _nn._ 3, 5.

  Techlenburg, Countess Anna of, 221.

  Teleology, 64, 66, 71-3, 75-7, 94, 105.

  Templars, the, charges against, 193, 199.

  Tertullian, 216.

  Theodoric, the monk, life of St. Hildegard by, 4, 5, 7, 13, 14,
        15 _n._, 51.

  Theophilus, psychological writings of, 114.

  Thun, in Alsace, witch-burning at, 208.

  Töply, Robert Ritter von, 92 _n._ 4;
    _Anatomia Richardi Anglici_, 121 _n._ 1.

  Torre, Marcantonio della, projected anatomical treatise of, 89.

  Tralles: _see_ Alexander of Tralles.

  _Transactions of the Seventeenth International Congress of Medicine_
        (Sect. XXIII, History of Medicine), 27 _n._ 2, 38 _n._ 3,
        84 _n._ 1.

  _Tredici Foglie della Royal Library di Windsor_, 86 _n._ 1.

  Trèves, witch-burning in the bishopric of, 194, 197, 198.

  Treviranus, 62, 64.

  Triaire, P., _Les leçons d’anatomie et les peintres hollandais aux
        XVI^e et XVII^e siècles_, 89 _n._ 1.

  Trinity, Hildegard’s vision of the, 54, plate XXIII.

  Trithemius, Johannes, abbot of Sponheim, 8, 42;
    _Chronicon insigne Monasterii Hirsaugensis, Ordinis St. Benedicti_,
        15, 16 _n._ 1.

  Trotula, medical writings of, 13.

  Tübingen, public anatomies at, in the fifteenth century, 79, 81 _n._

  Tudela: _see_ Benjamin of Tudela.


  Universe, material structure of the, mediaeval views on, 22-30,
        plates IV, XI.

  Uri, John, Catalogue of Oriental MSS. in the Bodleian Library,
        227, 230, 231 and _n._ 2.


  Vangesten, O. C. L., cited, 86 _n._ 1, 130 _n._ 1.

  Varignana, Gulielmo, professor of medicine at Bologna, 93 _n._ 1.

  Venturi, A., _Storia dell’ arte italiana_, 10 _n._ 2.

  Vergil, Polydore, 172, 180.

  Verrocchio, Andrea del, anatomical studies of, 86 and _n._ 2.

  Verworn, Max, 68.

  Vesalius, Andreas, 61, 86, 89, 93, 105, 130;
    _De humani corporis fabrica_, 92 _n._ 2, 121 fig. 20, 122.

  Vigevano, Guido de, anatomical drawings in works of, 87,
        plates XXXI, XXXII.

  Villanova: _see_ Arnald of Villanova.

  Villiers, J. A. J. de, _Famous Maps in the British Museum_, 99 _n._ 4.

  Vincent, St., of Beauvais, his treatment of a witch, 191.

  Vinci, Leonardo da, anatomical researches of, 86, 121, 122, 130;
    anatomical sketches, 89, plates XXXV, XXXVIII (_b_).

  Virchow, Rudolf, cited, 13, 60, 226 _n._

  Virmont, Countess Anna of, 218.

  Vitalism, 59-78;
    animism, 61, 64, 65;
    biological definitions, 59-61;
    crystals, 60;
    differentiation, 62;
    embryo, 62, 63, 69, 70;
    ‘entelechy’, 64, 75;
    germ, 62, 63, 66, 69, 70, 74;
    heterogeneity, 77;
    homogeneity, 65, 77;
    larva, 62, 63, 69;
    mechanisms and mechanical theories, 64, 65, 67-70, 74-6;
    metabolism, 60, 65, 68, 70, 76;
    metaphysical theory, 66, 67, 76;
    mind separate and eternal, 60, 73;
    morphaesthetic, 64, 71;
    neo-vitalism, 68, 76;
    nutritive soul, the, 59, 60, 73, 74;
    organic autonomy, 65;
    organism, life of the, 59 ff.;
    perceptive soul, the, 60, 73, 74;
    philosophical objections, 68, 71-5;
    psychoid, 64, 65, 75;
    psychological theory, 67, 68, 76;
    rational soul, the, 60, 61, 67;
    scientific objections, 68-71;
    special vital force, theory of, 66.

  Vivo, Catello de, _La Visione di Alberico, ristampata, tradotta e
        camparata con la Divina Commedia_, 21 _n._ 2.


  Waldenses, persecution of, 192.

  Waldsee, witch-burning at, 208.

  Walsh, E. H. C., _Tibetan Anatomical System_, 44 _n._ 5.

  Webb, C. C. J., 55 _n._

  Welch, Antonius, 197.

  Wendover, Richard of: _see_ Richardus Anglicus.

  Wesselich, Philip, of Knechtenstein, case of witchcraft, 218.

  Westland, A. Mildred, transcription of the _Anothomia_ of Hieronymo
        Manfredi, 130-64;
    translation of selected passages, 106-25.

  Westminster Abbey, miraculous cures at the shrine of Edward the
        Confessor, 166.

  Weyer, Dr. John, and the witch mania, 189-224;
    _De praestigiis daemonum et incantationibus ac veneficiis_, 215-22.

  Wharton, duct of, 95.

  Wiberg, J., _Anatomy of the Brain in the Works of Galen and ‘Ali
        ‘Abbas_, 113 _n._ 2.

  Wicelius (Weitzel), Georgius, 8.

  Wickersheimer, Ernest, _Figures médico-astrologiques des neuvième,
        dixième et onzième siècles_, 27 _n._ 2, 38 _n._ 3;
    _La médecine astrologique dans les almanachs populaires du XX^e
        siècle_, 39 _n._ 2;
    _L’Anatomie de Guido de Vigevano, médecin de la reine Jeanne de
        Bourgogne_, 87 _n._ 3.

  Wiesbaden: _see_ Manuscripts.

  Wille, Professor, 55 _n._

  William of Saliceto, 92, 93, 105.

  Wilson, Rev. H. A., 55 _n._

  Winds, relation of, to the elements, 25-7, 34.

  Winternitz, _Diätetisches Sendschreiben des Maimonides_, 226 _n._ 3.

  Wiseman, Cardinal, 178.

  Witchcraft and witch mania, 189-224;
    bewitchment of animals, 193, 197, 218, 220;
    burnings for witchcraft, 190, 194, 196, 197, 200, 202-8, 213, 221;
    children tortured and burnt, 200, 201, 208;
    confessions, 195, 197-200, 204, 205, 207, 209-13, 219, 220, 223;
    ‘delation’, 202;
    denunciations, 190, 192, 201, 202, 206, 209-13;
    executions, 190, 194, 195, 206, 208;
    informers, 202;
    inquisitions (or witch-trials), 192, 196, 197, 201-13;
    nature of the witch mania, 190, 191, 199, 205;
    number of victims, 208;
    opposition of Dr. John Weyer to persecution for witchcraft, 189,
        200, 207, 214-24;
    popular beliefs concerning witchcraft and demonology, 190-3,
        195-7, 199, 217;
    results of scientific investigations, 223;
    ‘sabbat’, the, 195-9;
    sexual orgies, 190, 193, 196, 198, 199, 209, 211, 216;
    torture of victims, 190, 192, 195, 200, 202-13;
    water test, 207, 219;
    witch-dances, 196, 197, 199, 210, 211, 216, 221;
    witch-hunters, 189, 192, 195-8, 200, 201, 205-8, 214, 219, 220;
    witch-ointments, 199, 216;
    witnesses, 202, 205, 209-12.

  Withington, E. T.: Dr. John Weyer and the Witch Mania, 189-224.

  Wolsey, Cardinal, 174.

  Worde, Wynkyn de, printer, 85 fig. 4.

  Wrobel, J., cited, 19 _n._ 2, 37 _n._ 1, 38 _n._ 1.

  Würzburg, witch-burning in the bishopric of, 194, 195, 204, 208.

  Wüstenfeld, H. F., _Geschichte d. arabischen Aerzte_, 227 and _n._ 1,
        228 _nn._ 3, 5, 229.


  Yorke, Sir Joseph, 230.

  Ypres, John de, quotation from the account books of, 170.


  _Zeitschrift der Morgenländischen Gesellschaft_, 226 _n._ 10.

  _Zeitschrift für kirchliche Wissenschaft und kirchliches Leben_,
        5 _n._ 3.

  Zelus Dei, account and illumination of, 54, plate XXIV (_b_).

  Zerbis, de: _see_ Gerbi, Gabriele de.

       *       *       *       *       *




FOOTNOTES:

[1] _Vita Sanctae Hildegardis auctoribus Godefrido et Theodorico
monachis_, lib. iii, cap. 1. The work has been frequently reprinted and
is in Migne, _Patrologia Latina_, vol. 197, col. 91 ff. This volume
will be quoted here simply as ‘Migne’.

[2] Migne, col. 119.

[3] The erroneous statement in some of her biographies that she
journeyed to Paris is based on a misunderstanding.

[4] Cardinal J. B. Pitra, _Analecta sacra_, vol. viii, p. 350, Paris,
1882. This volume will here be quoted simply as ‘Pitra’.

[5] Pitra, p. 556.

[6] Wilhelm Grimm, ‘Wiesbader Glossen’, in Moriz Haupt’s _Zeitschrift
für deutsches Alterthum_, Leipzig, 1848, vol. vi, p. 321. The script is
reproduced in the ill-arranged and irritating work of J. P. Schmelzeis,
_Das Leben und Wirken der heiligen Hildegardis_, Freiburg im Breisgau,
1879; and in Pitra, p. 497. The subject has been summarized by F. W.
E. Roth in his _Lieder und unbekannte Sprache der h. Hildegardis_,
Wiesbaden, 1880.

[7] A short sketch of her life of yet earlier date has survived. It is
from the hand of the monk Guibert and was probably written in 1180:
Pitra, p. 407. The best modern account of her is by F. W. E. Roth in
the _Zeitschrift für kirchliche Wissenschaft und kirchliches Leben_,
vol. ix, p. 453, Leipzig, 1888. Less critical but more readable is the
essay by Albert Battandier, ‘Sainte Hildegarde, sa vie et ses œuvres’,
in the _Revue des questions historiques_, vol. xxxiii, pp. 395-425,
Paris, 1883.

[8] The ‘Acta inquisitionis de virtutibus et miraculis sanctae
Hildegardis’ are reprinted in Migne, col. 131.

[9] This volume is supplemented by ‘Annotationes ad Nova S. Hildegardis
Opera’ in _Analecta Bollandiana_, vol. i, p. 597, Brussels, 1882.

[10] This Wiesbaden MS. has been fully described by Antonius van
der Linde, _Die Handschriften der Königlichen Landesbibliothek in
Wiesbaden_, Wiesbaden, 1877.

[11] Louis Baillet, ‘Les Miniatures du Scivias de sainte Hildegarde’,
in the _Monuments et Mémoires publiés par l’Académie des Inscriptions
et Belles-Lettres_, Paris, 1912, especially pp. 139 and 145.

[12] We are inclined to place the preparation of this remarkable MS.
at a slightly later date than that attributed to it by Baillet. As
Wiesbaden is at present inaccessible we have reproduced the facsimiles
in Plate II from Baillet’s monograph.

[13] For the history of these MSS. see A. van der Linde, loc. cit.,
pp. 30-6.

[14] Goethe, ‘Am Rhein, Main und Neckar’, _Cotta’s Jubiläums-Ausgabe_,
vol. xxix, p. 258.

[15] Wilhelm Grimm in M. Haupt’s _Zeitschrift für deutsches Alterthum_,
vi, p. 321, Leipzig, 1847.

[16] In Étienne Baluze, _Miscellanea novo ordine digesta et non paucis
ineditis monumentis opportunisque animadversionibus aucta opera ac
studio J. D. Mansi_, 4 vols., Lucca, 1761-6; see vol. ii, p. 377.

[17] Cf. J. A. Herbert, _Illuminated Manuscripts_, London, 1911, p. 160.

[18] A. Venturi, _Storia dell’ arte italiana_, Milan, _in progress_,
vol. v, p. 16.

[19] We are unable to concur with Baillet, however, that there is
enough evidence to suggest that the miniaturists of the Lucca MS. had
consulted the Wiesbaden illuminations. Baillet, loc. cit., p. 147.

[20] _Hildegardis causae et curae edidit Paulus Kaiser_, Leipzig,
B. G. Teubner, 1903. The MS. was brought to light by C. Jessen in
the _Sitzungsberichte der kaiserl. Akademie der Wissenschaften,
Mathematisch-naturwissenschaftliche Klasse_, Band xlv, Heft 1,
p. 97, Vienna, 1862. See also the same author in _Botanik in
kulturhistorischer Entwickelung_, pp. 124-6, Leipzig, 1862, and in the
_Anzeiger für Kunde der deutschen Vorzeit_, 1875, p. 175. An imperfect
edition appeared in 1882 in Pitra, p. 468, under the title _Liber
compositae medicinae de aegritudinum causis signis atque curis_.

[21] Royal Library of Copenhagen, MS. Ny. Kgl. Saml., No. 90 b.

[22] _Experimentarius medicinae continens Trotulae curandarum
Aegritudinum muliebrium ... item quatuor Hildegardis de elementorum,
fluminum aliquot Germaniae, metallorum,... herbarum, piscium &
animantium terrae, naturis et operationibus_. Edited by G. <DW62>,
Strasbourg, J. Schott, 1544. The work often ascribed to Trotula is
somewhat similar to the spurious medical works of Hildegard. Like
them, it was probably written early in the thirteenth century. Trotula
herself lived in the eleventh century, a generation or two before
Hildegard. On Trotula see Salvatore de Renzi, _Collectio Salernitana_,
vol. i, p. 149, Naples, 1852.

[23] In the _Vita_, lib. ii, cap. 1; Migne, col. 101.

[24] Migne, col. 1125. See also F. A. Reuss, _De Libris physicis S.
Hildegardis commentatio historico-medica_, Würzburg, 1835, and ‘Der
heiligen Hildegard Subtilitatum diversarum naturarum creaturarum
libri novem, die werthvollste Urkunde deutscher Natur- und Heilkunde
aus dem Mittelalter’ in the _Annalen des Vereins für Nassauische
Alterthumskunde und Geschichtsforschung_, Band vi, Heft 1, Wiesbaden,
1859.

[25] Rudolf Virchow, ‘Zur Geschichte des Aussatzes und der Spitäler,
besonders in Deutschland’, in Virchow’s _Archiv für Pathologie_, vol.
xviii, p. 285, &c., Berlin, 1860.

[26] Reuss, in Migne, cols. 1121 and 1122, states on Theodoric’s
authority that Hildegard had written a _book_ on this subject: ‘Exstat
inter libros virginis fatidicae superstites opus argumenti partim
physici partim medici, “De natura hominis, elementorum diversarumque
creaturarum” in quo, ut Theodoricus idem fusius exponit, secreta
naturae prophetico spiritu manifestavit.’ But Theodoric does not
in fact anywhere speak of a _special work_ with this title or of
this character. What he does write is as follows (_Vita_, lib. ii,
cap. i, Migne, col. 101): ‘Igitur beata virgo ... librum visionum
... consummavit et _quaedam_ de natura hominis et elementorum,
diversarumque creaturarum, et quomodo homini ex his succurrendum sit,
aliaque multa secreta prophetico spiritu manifestavit.’

[27] Migne, cols. 1212 and 1213.

[28] As detailed in the _Liber vitae meritorum_, Pitra, p. 228, and in
many places in the _Liber divinorum operum_ and _Scivias_.

[29] An exception must be made for the _lingua ignota_, which is
presumably hers. The absence of Germanisms in her other writings may
be partly due to the work of an editor. See the _Vita_ by Theodoric,
Migne, col. 101. Also the birth scene (see chapter ix below) is perhaps
adapted from a German folk-tale.

[30] Johannes Trithemius, _Chronicon insigne Monasterii Hirsaugensis,
Ordinis St. Benedicti_, Basel, 1559, p. 174.

[31] Migne, col. 384.

[32] It is not enough to suppose with some of her biographers that the
visions were dictated by Hildegard and were latinized by a secretary.
The visions imply a good deal of study and considerable book-learning.
Among many reasons for believing that she had a very serviceable
knowledge of Latin are the following:

(_a_) She was well acquainted with the Biblical writings and quotes
them aptly and frequently.

(_b_) She was regarded by her contemporaries as an authority on
scriptural interpretation and on Church discipline, and was frequently
consulted by them on these subjects.

(_c_) She pleaded in person before clerical tribunals.

(_d_) One of the least remarkable and most credible of her ‘miracles’,
the expounding of certain letters found upon an altar-cloth (Migne,
col. 121), depends entirely on a knowledge of Latin.

(_e_) In the _Liber divinorum operum_ (Migne, col. 922) she writes
‘firmamentum _celum_ nominavit quoniam omnia _excellit_’, a derivation
taken from Isidore and incomprehensible to one ignorant of Latin. There
are many other passages in her works in which the sense depends on the
Latin usage of a word.

(_f_) No mention of this ignorance is made by Guibert in the short
sketch of her life that he wrote almost immediately after her death
(1180; see Pitra, p. 407). On the contrary, he suggests that she had
been an industrious student.

(_g_) The _Liber divinorum operum_ may especially be pointed out
among her works as betraying a very considerable degree of learning.
Notably her elaborate doctrine of the macrocosm and microcosm must have
involved extensive reading.

The general question of Hildegard’s knowledge of Latin has also been
discussed by Pitra and by Albert Battandier in the _Revue des questions
historiques_, vol. xxxiii, p. 395, Paris, 1883.

[33] See chapter viii.

[34] It is, however, just possible that she had consulted the
astrological work that had been translated from the Arabic by Hermann
the Dalmatian for Bernard Sylvestris, and is represented in the
Bodleian MSS. Digby 46 and Ashmole 304.

[35] See Baldassare Boncompagni, _Della vita e delle opere di
Gherardo Cremonese, Traduttore del secolo duodecimo, e di Gherardo di
Sabbionetta, Astronomo del secolo decimoterzo_, Rome, 1851; also K.
Sudhoff, ‘Die kurze “Vita” und das Verzeichnis der Arbeiten Gerhards
von Cremona, von seinen Schülern und Studiengenossen kurz nach dem Tode
des Meisters (1187) zu Toledo verabfasst’, in _Archiv für Geschichte
der Medizin_, Bd. viii, p. 73, November 1914.

[36] Another translation of the _Almagest_ was made in Sicily in 1160,
direct from the Greek. See C. H. Haskins and D. P. Lockwood, ‘The
Sicilian Translators of the Twelfth Century and the First Latin Version
of Ptolemy’s _Almagest_’, in _Harvard Studies in Classical Philology_,
xi. 75, Cambridge, Mass., 1910. It is wholly improbable that Hildegard
had access to this rendering, which is only known from a single MS. of
the fourteenth century.

[37] De Renzi, _Collectio Salernitana_, vol. i, p. 485, and vol. v,
p. 50.

[38] De Renzi, i. 486 and 495; v. 51 and 70.

[39] De Renzi, i. 446; v. 3.

[40] De Renzi, i. 485-6; v. 50-2.

[41] _Scivias_, Migne, col. 403, and _Liber Divinorum Operum_, Migne,
col. 868 and elsewhere.

[42] _Scivias_, Migne, col. 404, and throughout the _Liber Divinorum
Operum_.

[43] Pitra, pp. 8, 114-16, 156, and 216.

[44] The work of Bernard Sylvestris has been printed by C. S. Barach
and J. Wrobel, Innsbruck, 1876. His identity, his sources, and his
views are discussed by Charles Jourdain, _Dissertation sur l’état de la
philosophie naturelle ... pendant la première moitié du XII^e siècle_;
by A. Clerval, _Les Écoles de Chartres au Moyen Âge_, Paris, 1895,
p. 259, &c.; by R. L. Poole, _Illustrations of the History of Mediaeval
Thought_, London, 1884, p. 116, &c.; and by J. E. Sandys, _History of
Classical Scholarship_, Cambridge, 1903, vol. i, p. 513, &c.

[45] The works of Hugh of St. Victor are published in Migne,
_Patrologia Latina_, clxxv-clxxvii.

[46] The Kalonymos family furnished prominent examples.

[47] Charles Singer, ‘Allegorical Representation of the Synagogue, in
a Twelfth-Century Illuminated MS. of Hildegard of Bingen’, _Jewish
Quarterly Review_, new series, vol. v, p. 268, Philadelphia, 1915. For
further evidence of Hildegard’s acquaintance with the Jews see Pitra,
p. 216; and Migne, cols. 967 and 1020-36.

[48] Pitra, p. 51 et seq.

[49] Catello de Vivo, _La Visione di Alberico, ristampata, tradotta e
comparata con la Divina Commedia_, Ariano, 1899. For a comparison of
Dante’s visions and those of Hildegard see Albert Battandier in the
_Revue des questions historiques_, vol. xxxiii, p. 422, Paris, 1883.

[50] Reprinted in Migne, vol. 195.

[51] Herrade de Landsberg, _Hortus Deliciarum_, by A. Straub and G.
Keller, Strasbourg, 1901, with two supplements.

[52] For sphericity of earth see especially Migne, cols. 868 and 903.

[53] In her later _Liber Divinorum Simplicis Hominis_ this method
of orientation is varied both in the text and also in the Lucca
illustrations.

[54] Migne, col. 906.

[55] Migne, cols. 903-4.

[56] See H. Osborn Taylor, _The Mediaeval Mind_, vol. i, p. 472,
London, 1911.

[57] Migne, cols. 904-6.

[58] H. Osborn Taylor, _The Mediaeval Mind_, i. 468, 471; ii. 569. See
also A. Battandier, _Revue des questions historiques_, vol. xxxiii,
p. 422, Paris, 1883.

[59] The _Meteorologica_ had been translated about 1150 by Aristippus,
the minister of William the Bad of Sicily. The version of Aristippus
passed quickly into circulation (Valentine Rose, ‘Die Lücke im Diogenes
Laërtus und der alte Übersetzer’ in _Hermes_, i. 376, Berlin, 1866),
but hardly soon enough for Hildegard’s _Scivias_, which was completed
about 1150. It is, of course, possible that the references to the
_ignis niger_ are later interpolations, but this is very unlikely
in view of the way in which she speaks of this vision in the _Liber
Divinorum Operum_.

[60] Migne, cols. 789-91.

[61] Migne, col. 389.

[62] Plate XII _a_. The elements are represented in their original
order undisturbed by the Fall. Uppermost is the _purus aether_ or _aer
lucidus_ containing the stars and representing the element _air_ in
Hildegard’s cosmic system. Next comes _water_. Below, and to the left,
is a dark mass separating into tongues, one of which is formed into a
serpent’s head. These tongues are flames of _fire_. Below, and to the
right, are plants and flowers emblematical of _earth_. The serpent,
the enemy, vomits over a cloud of stars (signifying the fallen angels)
that are borne downward by the falling Adam. In the four corners of the
miniature the symbols of the elements are again displayed.

[63] Plate XIII. Above, in a circle, sits the Heavenly Judge. He is
flanked on either side by groups of angels bearing the cross and
other symbols. The lower circle exhibits the final destruction of
the elemental Universe. The four winds and their collaterals are
here subjecting the elements to the crucible heat of their combined
blasts. Strewn among the elements can be seen men, plants, and animals.
Between the circles is an angel sounding the last trump, and holding
the recording roll of good and evil deeds. He faces the throng of the
righteous who are rising from their bones, while he turns his back
on the weeping crowd of those doomed to torment. Below these latter
crouches Satan, now enchained.

[64] Plate XII _b_. In the highest circle is the Trinity flanked to
the left by the Virgin and to the right by the Baptist, with Cherubim
below. In the middle circle are two groups, the Saints above and the
Prophets and Apostles below. In the lowest circle are the elements, now
rearranged in their eternal harmony; uppermost of these is the _purus
aether_ now separated from the _aer lucidus_ and containing the stars;
on either side are light- flame-like processes representing the
_air_; below the aether is _water_, indicated by a zone of undulating
lines; then comes the _earth_ symbolized, as usual, by a group of
plants. Below and to the side of _earth_ are dark- flames of
fire, now controlled and confined to this lowest rung.

[65] Migne, col. 791.

[66] See Ernest Wickersheimer, ‘Figures médico-astrologiques des
neuvième, dixième et onzième siècles’, in the _Transactions of the
Seventeenth International Congress of Medicine, Section XXIII, History
of Medicine_, p. 313, London, 1913.

[67] Migne, cols. 403-14.

[68] Migne, col. 751.

[69] Migne, col. 791.

[70] The _Quaestio de Aqua et Terra_ is doubtless a genuine, albeit
the least pleasing, production of the great poet. The genuineness is
established by Vincenzo Balgi in his edition, Modena, 1907.

[71] Migne, col. 741.

[72] Migne, col. 743.

[73] It is outside our purpose to attempt a full elucidation of
Hildegard’s allegory. The eagle in the right wing signifies the power
of divine grace, while the human head in the left wing indicates the
powers of the natural man. To the bosom of the figure is clasped the
Lamb of God.

[74] Migne, col. 751.

[75] Migne, col. 744.

[76] _Liber Divinorum Operum_, part i, visions 2 and 3.

[77] Migne, cols. 752-5.

[78] Migne, col. 807.

[79] The work is printed by C. S. Barach and J. Wrobel, Innsbruck,
1876. The writers, however, confuse Bernard Sylvestris of Tours with
his somewhat older contemporary, Bernard of Chartres.

[80] A. Clerval, _Les Écoles de Chartres au Moyen Âge_, Paris, 1895.

[81] J. E. Sandys, _History of Classical Scholarship_, Cambridge, 1903,
vol. i, p. 515.

[82] R. Lane Poole, _Illustrations of the History of Mediaeval Thought
in the Departments of Theology and Ecclesiastical Politics_, Oxford,
1884, pp. 118, 219.

[83] Barach and Wrobel, _loc. cit._, pp. 5-6, 9 and 13.

[84] For a general consideration of these figures see K. Sudhoff,
_Archiv für Geschichte der Medizin_, i. 157, 219; ii. 84.

[85] E. Wickersheimer, ‘Figures médico-astrologiques des neuvième,
dixième et onzième siècles’, _Transactions of the Seventeenth
International Congress of Medicine, Section XXIII, History of
Medicine_, p. 313, London, 1913.

[86] The MS. from which Plate XV is taken _(Paris, Bibl. nat., Latin_
7028) is entitled _Scholium de duodecim zodiaci signis et de ventis_.
It was once the property of St. Hilaire the Great of Poitiers. The
legend above our figure reads, ‘Secundum philosophorum deliramenta
notantur duodecim signa ita ab ariete incipiamus’. The relation of the
signs to the parts of the body is different in this eleventh-century
MS. from that which was widely accepted in the astrology of the
thirteenth and fourteenth centuries as illustrated in Plate XVI.

[87] The MS. from which Plate XVI is taken (_Paris, Bibl. nat., Latin_
11229) was written about the end of the fourteenth century. It has been
described by K. Sudhoff, _Arch. f. Gesch. d. Med._, ii. 84, Leipzig,
1910. The relation of the central figure to the signs of the zodiac in
this plate bears a manifest resemblance to the relation of the central
figure to the beasts’ heads in Plate vii. The lines which cross and
recross the figure in Plate VII are analogous also to the lines of
influence of Plate XVI. The verse above the figure in Plate XVI is
taken from the _Flos medicinae scholae Salerni_; cp. de Renzi, loc.
cit., i. 486. This Melothesia and that of the next figure is identical
with that propounded in Manilius, ii. 453 (edition of H. W. Garrod,
Oxford, 1911).

[88] Plate XVII is from an early German block book. It exhibits a
scheme closely parallel to Plate VII. The universe in Plate XVII is
represented as a series of concentric spheres, _earth_ innermost,
followed by _water_, _air_, and _fire_. In the outermost zone hover the
angels who have replaced the beast’s head of Hildegard’s scheme. The
whole world is embraced by the figure of the Almighty, much as in Plate
VII.

[89] See E. Wickersheimer, ‘La médecine astrologique dans les almanachs
populaires du xx^{e} siècle’, _Bulletin de la Société française
d’histoire de la médecine_, x (1911), pp. 26-39.

[90] Migne, col. 757. This phrase is reproduced in a mediaeval
Irish version of the work of Messahalah. See Maura Power, _An Irish
Astronomical Text_, Irish Text Society, London, 1912.

[91] The word _cancer_ is here used, but the crab goes sideways, not
backwards. By _cancer_ Hildegard, who had never seen the sea, probably
means the crayfish, an animal fairly common in the Rhine basin. It is
the head of a crayfish or lobster that is figured in the miniatures of
the vision of the macrocosm in the Lucca MS., and a similar organism
frequently serves for the sign Cancer in the mediaeval zodiacal medical
figures, as in Plate XV of this essay.

[92] Migne, cols. 3, 791-2.

[93] An illustration of this parallelism between Paracelsus and
Hildegard is afforded by certain passages in the _Labyrinthus medicorum
errantium_ and the _Scivias_, lib. i, vis. 4. Especially compare p. 279
et seq. of Huser’s edition of the _Opera_, Strasbourg, 1603, with
Migne, col. 428.

[94] A good example is furnished by a work of Isaac Myer, _Qabbalah.
The philosophical writings of Solomon ben Yehudah ibn Gebirol or
Avicebron and their connection with the Hebrew Qabbalah and Sepher
ha-Zohar_, Philadelphia, 1888.

[95] The most accessible edition is in S. de Renzi’s _Collectio
Salernitana_, vol. ii, p. 388.

[96] Printed in de Renzi, vol. ii, p. 391.

[97] Printed in _Methodus medendi certa clara et brevis_, Basel,
Henricus Petrus, 1541, p. 313.

[98] Printed in _Summi in omni philosophia viri constantini africani
medici operum reliqua_, Basel, Henricus Petrus, 1539, p. 24.

[99] Karl Sudhoff, _Tradition und Naturbeobachtung_, Leipzig, 1907;
_Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Anatomie im Mittelalter_, Leipzig,
1908; ‘Drei weitere anatomische Fünfbilderserien aus Abendland und
Morgenland’ (with Ernst Seidel) and ‘Abermals eine neue Handschrift der
anatomischen Fünfbilderserie’ in _Archiv für Geschichte der Medizin_,
Leipzig, 1910 and 1914.

[100] E. H. C. Walsh, ‘The Tibetan Anatomical System’, in the _Journal
of the Royal Asiatic Society_, London, October 1910, p. 1215; Berthold
Laufer, _Beiträge zur Kenntnis der Tibetanischen Medizin_, Berlin,
1900; and K. Sudhoff, ‘Weitere Beiträge zur Geschichte der Anatomie im
Mittelalter’, in the _Archiv für Geschichte der Medizin_, vol. viii,
p. 143, Leipzig, 1914.

[101] This text, critically treated, has been printed by K. Sudhoff,
who, however, regards it as related to the figures: _Archiv für
Geschichte der Medizin_, vol. iii, p. 361, Leipzig, 1910.

[102] Hugh of St. Victor, _De bestiis et aliis rebus_, iii. 60.

[103] Migne, col. 755.

[104] An idea that occurs in Aristotle, _Parts of Animals_, ii, c. 2,
but is rejected by Galen.

[105] Early mediaeval writers held that the _lumbus_, which we have
rendered _loin_, was intimately connected with the sexual faculties.
Thus Hugh of St. Victor (1095-1141), _De bestiis et aliis rebus_, iii.
60 ‘Lumbi a libidinis lascivia dicti, quia in viris causa corporeae
voluptatis in ipsis est, sicut in umbilico feminis. Unde et ab Iob in
exordio sermonis dictum est, _accinge sicut vir lumbos tuos_, ut in his
esset resistendi praeparatio, in quibus est libidinis usitata dominandi
occasio.’

[106] Migne, cols. 792-3.

[107] The legend reads as follows: ‘Minor mundus scilicet <DW25>.
_Microcosmus_. [Then on the head the names of the seven planets.] Caput
microcosmi est rotundum in celestis spere modum in quo duo oculi ut duo
luminaria in celo micant quod & septem foramina ut septem celi armonie
ornant. In pectore sunt flatus & tussis ut in aere uenti & tonitrua.
In uentrem omnia fluunt ut in mare flumina. Os lapides ungues arbos
dant gramina crines Ut pede mole[m] corporis sic terra sustinet omnia.
[At the four corners the following legends:] Aer huic donat quod flat.
sonat. audit. odorat. Ignis feruorem dat uisum mobilitatem. Aqua. Munus
aque gustus humorem sanguinis usus. Ex terra carnem tactum trahit &
gravitatem.’

[108] Migne, col. 415.

[109] Migne, col. 421.

[110] Migne, col. 424.

[111] The Aristotelian writings also compare the transformation of the
material humours into the child’s body with the solidification of milk
in the formation of cheese.

[112] Migne, col. 425.

[113] Especially in the _Liber Divinorum Operum_, pars 1. vis. iv.

[114] The eagle is frequently in mediaeval writings a symbol of the
power of divine grace.

[115] Migne, col. 110.

[116] Migne, col. 111.

[117] Migne, col. 384.

[118] _Scivias_, lib. iii, vis. 1; Migne, col. 565.

[119] Migne, col. 18.

[120] Migne, col. 18.

[121] _Cartulaire de l’Université de Montpellier (1180-1518)_,
Montpellier, 1894, p. 21.

[122] Dates of the institution of dissection at this and other
Universities are given by F. Baker in _Bulletin of the Johns Hopkins
Hospital_, vol. xx, p. 331, Baltimore, 1909.

[123] Statuti dell’ Università di Medicina e di Arti del 1405, Rubr.
lxxxxvi (‘De anothomia quolibet anno fienda’) in the _Statuti delle
Università e dei collegi dello Studio bolognese_, edited by Carlo
Malagola, Bologna, 1888, p. 289.

[124] J. Säxinger, _Ueber die Entwickelung des medizinischen
Unterrichts an der Tübinger Hochschule_, Tübingen, 1884, pp. 5 and 10.

[125] How rarely dissections were conducted in some of the Universities
may be gathered from the first statutes of the medical faculty of
Tübingen, dated 1497. These ordain a dissection _every three or four
years_. Not till 1601 was an anatomy held at Tübingen even once a year
(see Säxinger, loc. cit.). Even at Montpellier in the sixteenth century
the scarcity was so great that Rondelet (1507-66) was on one occasion
reduced to dissect the body of his son. For this terrible incident see
A. Portal, _Histoire de l’Anatomie et Chirurgie_, Paris, 1770, vol. i,
p. 522; A. Haller, _Bibliotheca anatomica_, Lib. iv, § clxxxiv, Leyden,
1774, vol. i, p. 205; and A. O. Goelicke, _Introductio in historiam
litterariam anatomes_, Frankfurt, 1738, p. 136. There was, however, a
relatively plentiful supply of subjects in the Italian Universities
and especially at Bologna and Padua in the fourteenth, fifteenth,
and sixteenth centuries (cp. A. Haller, _Bibliotheca anatomica_,
introduction to Lib. v, p. 218). This was perhaps due to the utterly
depraved state of public and private morals to which the peoples of
the peninsula had been reduced by the excesses of the tyrants and the
condottieri.

[126] Plate XXVIII _b_ is perhaps the earliest representation of the
practice of dissection yet brought to light. It is described in Charles
Singer, ‘Thirteenth-Century Miniatures illustrating Medical Practice’,
_Proceedings of the Royal Society of Medicine, Section of the History
of Medicine_, 1916, vol. ix, pp. 29-42.

[127] Plate XXIX: a post-mortem scene in the late fourteenth century,
from a French MS. of the _Grande Chirurgie_ of Guy de Chauliac,
Bibliothèque de la Faculté de Médecine de Montpellier, MS. 184
français, folio 14 recto. The scene is laid in the bedroom of the
deceased. In the left-hand top corner is the bed, by the side of
which a female figure, partly obliterated, is praying. Below and to
the left are two other female figures, and a man richly dressed in an
ermine-trimmed robe. These are presumably the relatives of the dead.
The corpse, that of a woman, has been placed on a bare table and is
opened from the larynx to the symphysis pubis. In front stands a lad
holding a round wooden vessel for the reception of the viscera, and
farther to the right is a stool on which are placed two or three
instruments. The physician, in full canonicals, is at the extreme right
of the picture. The actual process of examination is being made by
three of his assistants. To the left the first of these deepens, with
a knife, the incision that has already been made over the sternum, the
second is grasping with his two hands and rolling up the great omentum
so as to display the viscera beneath, and the third holds a wand in his
right hand, with which he points to the abdomen, while in his left he
carries a book. Five others throng into the room from a passage which
opens into it.

[128] Antonio Benivieni, _De abditis nonnullis ac mirandis morborum
et sanationum causis_, Florence, 1506. In the description of Case 32,
Benivieni expresses surprise at having been refused permission to
perform a post-mortem examination, as though it were unusual for him
to meet rebuffs of the kind. ‘Experimento comprobare volentes, corpus
incidere tentavimus sed nescio qua superstitione negantibus cognatis,
voti compotes fieri nequivimus.’

[129] See E. Nicaise, _La Grande Chirurgie de Guy de Chauliac_, p. 30,
Paris, 1890.

[130] ‘Ut Anatomici explicationem ipsius Mundini sequantur’, Francesco
Maria Colle, _Storia scientifico-letteraria dello Studio di Padova_, 4
vols., Padua, 1824-5, vol. iii, p. 108.

[131] Martin von Mellerstadt, also called Pollich or Polich.

[132] Plate XXX _a_, from a late fifteenth-century Provençal
translation of the _Grande Chirurgie_ of Guy de Chauliac. Vatican
Library, MS. hispanice 4804, folio 8 recto. A professor and pupil are
examining a wasted corpse placed on a trestle in the open air. The
teacher is pointing out the surface markings.

[133] Plate XXX _b_, from the French Guy de Chauliac MS. in the Bristol
Reference Library, folio 25 recto. The MS. dates from between the years
1420 and 1435; cp. Norris Mathews, _Early Printed Books and MSS. in the
Bristol Reference Library_, Bristol, 1899, p. 70; J. A. Nixon, ‘A New
Guy de Chauliac MS.’, in _Transactions of the XVIIth Internal. Cong.
of Med., Sect. of Hist. of Med._, London, 1914, p. 419; and Charles
Singer, ‘The Figures of the Bristol Guy de Chauliac MS. _circa_ 1430’,
_Proceedings of the Royal Society of Medicine, Section of the History
of Medicine_, 1917, vol. x, pp. 71-91. The figure shows a professor and
pupil. The former is demonstrating the bones of a skeleton.

[134] The number of female criminals being less than the number of
male criminals, Ludovico Frati states (_La vita privata di Bologna
dal secolo XIII al XVII_, Bologna, 1900, pp. 116-18) that only two
anatomies _in all_ were held each year, and thirty students admitted
to the female and twenty to the male dissection. This would mean far
less than _two dissections a year for each student_ of over two years’
standing.

[135] The anatomical works of Leonardo have now been rendered
accessible in _Tredici Foglie delta Royal Library di Windsor. Leonardo
da Vinci, Quaderni d’anatomia ... Pubblicati da O. C. L. Vangensten, A.
Fonahm, H. Hopstock_, Christiania, 1911, &c.

[136] Pollaiuolo and Verrocchio only studied surface anatomy, so far as
is known. For a summary of the anatomical work of these painters see M.
Duval and E. Cuyer, _Histoire de l’Anatomie plastique_, p. 20, Paris,
1898.

[137] It has been suggested that Giammatteo Ferrari da Grado (Matthaeus
de Gradibus), who was professor of Medicine at Pavia 1432-72, made
original contributions to anatomy. He wrote no separate work on
anatomy, but his observations on the ovaries (which he was perhaps the
first to call by that name) appear in his _Practica_, Milan, 1471,
and in his _Expositiones super vigesimam secundam Fen tertii canonis
Avicennae_, Milan, 1494. An interesting account of Ferrari’s life and
work is given by his descendant, H. M. Ferrari, in _Une Chaire de
Médecine au XV^{e} siècle; Un professeur a l’université de Pavie de
1432 à 1472_, Paris, 1899. In this work the claim that De Gradibus was
an original and independent observer is effectively disposed of.

[138] At least six Western copies of this series, besides three or more
of oriental origin, have now been detected. The Western MSS. and their
dates are as follows:

(_a_) Munich, Hof- und Staatsbibliothek, Cod. lat. monacensis 13002,
before 1158.

(_b_) Munich, Hof- und Staatsbibliothek, Cod. lat. monacensis 17403,
_circa_ 1250.

(_c_) Bodleian Library, MS. Ashmole 399, _circa_ 1290.

(_d_) Dresden, Kgl. Öffentl. Bibliothek, Codex 310, before 1323.

(_e_) Bodleian Library, MS. e Museo 19, before 1344.

(_f_) Library of Count F. Zdenho von Lobkowicz in Raudnitz, of 1399.

See E. Seidel and K. Sudhoff, especially ‘Drei weitere anatomische
Fünfbilderserien aus Abendland und Morgenland’, in _Archiv für Gesch.
der Med._, iii, p. 165, Leipzig, 1910.

[139] Cp. K. Sudhoff in _Ein Beitrag zur Gesch. der Anatomie im
Mittelalter_, Leipzig, 1908.

[140] E. Wickersheimer, ‘L’Anatomie de Guido de Vigevano, médecin de la
reine Jeanne de Bourgogne (1345)’, in _Archiv für Geschichte der Med._,
vii. 1, Leipzig, 1914. M. Wickersheimer has kindly given permission for
the reproduction of the figures in Plates XXXI and XXXII.

[141] Notably the MS. Roncioni 99, dating from the first half of the
twelfth century, in the University Library of Pisa, reproduced by K.
Sudhoff in the _Archiv für Gesch. der Med._, vii, Tafel xiv, 1914. Also
separate organs are depicted in the Bodleian MS. Ashmole 399, dating
from the end of the thirteenth century, reproduced in Fig. 6.

[142] The miniatures of the Dresden Codex have been studied by L.
Choulant, _Geschichte und Bibliographie der anatomischen Abbildung
nach ihrer Beziehung auf anatomische Wissenschaft und bildende Kunst_,
Leipzig, 1852, and in the _Archiv für die zeichnenden Künste_, II.
Jahrgang, Leipzig, 1856, p. 264. More recently the MS. has been most
carefully described and its miniatures reproduced by E. C. van Leersum
and W. Martin, _Miniaturen der lateinischen Galenos-Handschrift der
kgl. öffentl. Bibliothek in Dresden, in phototypischer Reproduktion_,
Leyden, 1910. We have to thank Dr. Van Leersum of Leyden for kind
permission to reproduce the figures of Plate XXXIV.

[143] Cp. P. Triaire, _Les leçons d’anatomie et les peintres hollandais
aux XVI^{e} et XVII^{e} siècles_, Paris, 1887.

[144] For della Torre and his projected work on anatomy, see G.
Cervetto, _Di alcuni illustri anatomici italiani del decimoquinto
secolo_, p. 46, Verona, 1842; also L. Choulant, _Geschichte der
anatomischen Abbildung_, p. 5, Leipzig, 1852.

[145] The first edition appeared in Venice in 1491 and is in Latin. It
is of less typographical interest.

[146] K. Sudhoff, ‘Eine Pariser “Ketham” Handschrift aus der Zeit König
Karls VI (1380-1422)’, in _Archiv für Geschichte der Medizin_, vol. ii,
p. 84, Leipzig, 1909; ‘Neue Beiträge zur Vorgeschichte des Ketham’, in
_Archiv für Geschichte der Medizin_, vol. v, p. 280, Leipzig, 1912.

[147] Prince d’Essling, _Les livres à figures vénitiens de la fin du
XV^{e} siècle et du commencement du XVI^{e}_, part i, vol. ii, p. 56,
Florence and Paris, 1908.

[148] Eugène Piot, _Le Cabinet de l’amateur_, nouv. série, Paris, 1861,
‘Le maître aux dauphins’, p. 354 et seq. The dolphins are seen on
either side of the chair in Plate XXVII.

[149] Duc de Rivoli, _Bibliographie des livres à figures vénétiens_,
p. 110, Paris, 1893.

[150] Cp. G. Albertotti, _Nuove osservazioni sul ‘Fasciculus medicinae’
del Ketham_, Padua, 1910.

[151] See K. Sudhoff, ‘Weibliche Situsbilder von ca. 1400-1543’, in
_Tradition und Naturbeobachtung_, p. 79, Leipzig, 1907. The number and
character of the indication lines attached to this figure suggest that
the block from which the impression has been taken had previously been
used for some other publication. This work, however, if it exists, has
not yet come to light.

[152] Michele Medici, _Della vita e degli scritti degli anatomici e
medici fioriti in Bologna dal comincio del secolo XIII_, Bologna, 1853;
_Compendio storico della scuola anatomica di Bologna dal Rinascimento
delle Scienze e delle Lettere a tutto il Secolo XVIII_, Bologna, 1857.

[153] The mediaeval term, ‘vena chilis’, lasted in anatomy until
the end of the sixteenth century and probably later. ‘_Chilis_’ is
a corruption of the Greek κοίλη. This hybrid name was abandoned by
Vesalius (_Fabrica_, 1543 Basle edition, p. 376) in favour of the title
‘vena cava’.

[154] The passage is translated from Michele Medici, _Compendio
storico_, pp. 10-11.

[155] See A. Laboulbène, ‘Les anatomistes anciens’, in _Revue
scientifique pour la France et pour l’Étranger_, vol. xxxviii,
p. 641, Paris, 1886; Robert Ritter von Töply in Puschmann, Pagel, and
Neuburger, _Handbuch der Geschichte der Medizin_, vol. ii, p. 197,
Jena, 1903; G. Martinotti, ‘L’insegnamento dell’ Anatomia in Bologna
prima del secolo xix’, in _Studi e Memorie per la storia dell’
università di Bologna_, vol. ii, p. 51, Bologna, 1911.

[156] An intermediate anatomist was Gulielmo Varignana, who was
professor of Medicine in Bologna, and is recorded as having opened for
judicial purposes, on February 15, 1302, the corpse of one alleged to
have been poisoned. See Michele Medici, op. cit. The investigation is
referred to above.

[157] Dr. Craigie in his excellent account of the History of Anatomy,
in the ninth and subsequent editions of the _Encyclopaedia Britannica_.

[158] ‘Mundinus quem omnis studentium universitas colit ut deum’, J.
Adelphus in his edition of Mondino, Strassburg, 1513.

[159] _Editio princeps_, Lyons, 1478.

[160] Pietro de Argellata, _Cirurgia_, ‘Incipit liber primus cirurgie
magistri Petri de la Cerlata’ (!), Venice, 1492. Quotation from lib.
v, tract. 12, chap. 3. An earlier edition which we have not seen was
printed in Venice in 1480.

[161] The ‘pomegranate’ sometimes also means the xiphisternum. It is
not clear which is implied here.

[162] Giovanni da Concoreggio, _Lucidarium et Flos Medicinae_, Giunta,
Florence, 1521. It contains a few scattered anatomical points.

[163] De Zerbis, _Liber Anatomiae corporis humani et singulorum
membrorum illius_, Venice, 1502.

[164] Reprinted in the _Anatomia_ of Johannes Dryander, Marburg, 1537.

[165] Alessandro Achillini, _Annotationes anatomiae_, Bologna, 1520.
This work is also included in the 1502 edition of De Zerbis’ _Liber
Anatomiae_.

[166] _Carpi commentaria cum amplissimis additionibus super anatomia
mundini una cum textu eiusdem in pristinum et verum nitorem redacto_,
Bologna, 1521. An earlier and less important edition of Carpi was the
_Anathomia Mundini noviter impressa ac per Carpum castigata_ that
appeared at Bologna in 1514.

[167] The figures in Ketham and in the wretched productions of Johannes
Adelphus (J. A. Muelich), of Hundt, and of Peyligk can hardly be said
to illustrate the text of anatomical treatises.

[168] Albano Sorbelli, _Le Croniche Bolognesi del Secolo XIV_, Bologna,
1900; _La Signoria di Giovanni Visconti a Bologna_, Bologna, 1901;
Michele Medici, loc. cit., p. 4.

[169] Giovanni Fantuzzi, _Notizie degli scrittori bolognesi_, Tom. v,
p. 196, Bologna, 1786.

[170] Hastings Rashdall, _The Universities of Europe in the Middle
Ages_, 3 vols., Oxford, 1895, vol. i, p. 244.

[171] He is mentioned in this capacity by Niccolò Burzio, _Bononia
illustrata_, Bologna, 1494. We have been unable to consult this work,
which is quoted by Fantuzzi, loc. cit. See also Ferdinando Gabotto,
_Bartolomeo Manfredi e l’Astrologia alla Corte di Mantova_, Torino,
1891, p. 19.

[172] Manfredi’s University career is extracted from Umberto Dallari,
_I rotuli dei lettori legisti e artisti dello studio bolognese dal 1384
al 1799_, Bologna, vol. i, 1888, and Luigi Nardi and Emilio Orioli,
_Chartularium Studii Bononiensis_, Imola, vol. i, 1907.

[173] See also P. A. Orlandi, _Notizie degli scrittori bolognesi_,
Bologna, 1714.

[174] Johannes Franciscus Picus Mirandula, _Disputationes adversus
astrologos_, Lib. ii, cap. 9, Bologna, 1495. Our quotation is from
the original 1495 edition, not from the slightly variant _édition
contrefaite_.

[175] G. Fantuzzi, loc. cit., p. 197.

[176] U. Santini, ‘Cenni statistici sulla Popolazione del Quartiere
di S. Proclo in Bologna’, in _Atti e Memorie della R. Deputazione di
Storia Patria per le Provincie di Romagna_, series 3, vol. xxxiv,
pp. 366 and 367, Bologna, 1906.

[177] See map of the old University buildings of Bologna prefixed to
Francesco Cavazza, _Le Scuole dell’ antico studio bolognese_, Milan,
1896.

[178] The date 1462, clearly printed on this edition, is certainly
erroneous, since there was no printing-press at Bologna till 1471.
A. E. Nordenskiöld (_Facsimile Atlas till Kartografiens äldesta
Historia_, Stockholm, 1889, p. 12) consider that 1472 is the true date,
but the point is not yet finally settled. See J. A. J. de Villiers,
‘Famous Maps in the British Museum’, in _Geographical Journal_, vol.
liv, London, August 1914, p. 173. Albano Sorbelli, in his authoritative
_I Primordi della Stampa in Bologna_, Bologna, 1908, does not mention
Manfredi’s edition of Ptolemy among the earliest printed Bolognese
works (1471-5).

[179] Albrecht von Haller, _Bibliotheca anatomica_, Zürich, 1774-7,
vol. ii, p. 738.

[180] Michele Medici, _Compendio storico della Scuola anatomica di
Bologna dal Rinascimento delle Scienze e delle Lettere a tutto il
Secolo XVIII_, Bologna, 1857, folio.

[181] G. Martinotti, ‘L’insegnamento dell’ anatomia in Bologna prima
del secolo XIX’, in _Studi e Memorie per la Storia dell’ Università di
Bologna_, vol. ii. Bologna, 1911.

[182] Mazzatinti, _Inventari dei Manoscritti delle Biblioteche
d’Italia_, Forli & Firenze, 1890-1915, vols. i to xxiii, in progress.

[183] Lino Sighinolfi, _L’Architettura Bentivolesca in Bologna e il
Palazzo del Podestà_, Bologna, 1909.

[184] Several short sketches or tractates on anatomy in the vernacular
are however known. Thus a Provençal anatomical tractate of the
thirteenth century has been published by K. Sudhoff in his _Beitrag zur
Gesch. der Anatomie im Mittelalter_, Leipzig, 1908.

[185] Cf. Galen, _De usu partium corporis humani_, Lib. x, chap. 12.

[186] Cf. Rhazes, _Almansur_, i. 4.

[187] Manfredi here follows Mondino, who confuses Galen’s fourth pair
with Galen’s sixth pair of nerves.

[188] See P. de Koning, _Trois Traités d’Anatomie arabes_, Leyden,
1903, p. 47.

[189] See J. Wiberg, ‘The Anatomy of the Brain in the Works of Galen
and ‘Ali ‘Abbas; a comparative historical-anatomical study’, _Janus_,
vol. xix, p. 17 and p. 84, Leyden, January and March, 1914.

[190] See A. Schneider, ‘Die Psychologie Alberts des Grossen’, p. 160,
in _Beiträge zur Geschichte der Philosophie des Mittelalters_, Band iv,
Heft 5, Munich, 1903.

[191] Constantine Africanus, _De communibus medico cognitu necessariis
locis_, Lib. iii, cap. 11, Edition Henricus Petrus, Basel, 1541.

[192] _Practica Petrocelli Salernitani. Epistola. Quot annis latuit
medicina_. S. de Renzi, _Collectio Salernitana_. Naples, 1852-9, vol.
iv, p. 189.

[193] A very elaborate study of the doctrine of the three vesicles of
the brain has recently been made by Walther Sudhoff, ‘Die Lehre von den
Hirnventrikeln’, in the _Archiv für Gesch. der Med._, Leipzig, 1914,
vol. vii, p. 149.

[194] See F. G. A. Stumpff, _Historia nervorum cerebralium ab
antiquissimis temporibus usque ad Willisium nec non Vieussensium.
Dissertatio inauguralis_, Berlin, 1841; C. Daremberg, _Œuvres
anatomiques, physiologiques et médicales de Galien_, Paris, 1854,
p. 583, &c.; G. Helmreich, ΓΑΛΗΝΟΥ, περὶ χρείας μορίων, Leipzig, 1909;
and Theodor Beck, ‘Die Galenischen Hirnnerven in moderner Beleuchtung’,
in _Arch. für Gesch. der Med_., vol. iii, p. 110, Leipzig, 1910.

[195] Galen, _De usu partium_, ix. 4; _De Hippocratis et Platonis
decretis_, vii. 3.

[196] The first edition of the work appeared in 1496.

[197] The so-called _Anatomia Richardi Anglici_, which has been printed
by Robert Ritter von Töply (Vienna, 1902), is really the same as the
pseudo-Galenic _Anatomia vivorum_, to which Richard’s name was not
attached until the fourteenth century. See Christoph Ferckel, _Archiv
für die Gesch. der Naturwissenschaften und der Technik_, vol. vi,
p. 78, Leipzig, 1912, and K. Sudhoff, _Archiv für Gesch. der Medizin_,
vol. viii, p. 71, Leipzig, 1915.

[198] E. Nicaise, _La Grande Chirurgie de Guy de Chauliac_, p. 45,
Paris, 1890.

[199] J. Pagel, _Die Anatomie des Heinrich von Mondeville_, Berlin,
1889, p. 37.

[200] For the whole question of early figures of the eye consult K.
Sudhoff, ‘Augenanatomiebilder im 15. und 16. Jahrhundert’ in his
_Illustrationen medizinischer Handschriften und Frühdrucke_. Leipzig,
1907; and the same writer’s recent article on ‘Augendurchschnittsbilder
aus Abendland und Morgenland’ in _Archiv für Gesch. der Medizin_, vol.
viii, p. 1, Leipzig, 1915.

[201] Our figure from the _Margarita philosophiae_ has been taken from
the 1503 edition, the earliest to which we have had access. A figure in
the _Philosophiae naturalis compendium_ of K. Peyligk, dated Leipzig,
1489, is so inferior as to be negligible in this connexion.

[202] W. Harvey, _Prelectiones anatomiae universalis_, reproduced in
facsimile from the author’s MS. notes, London, 1886, folio 72 recto.

[203] W. Harvey, _Exercitatio anatomica de motu cordis et sanguinis_,
Frankfort, 1628. The opening passage of the dedication to Charles I may
be translated as follows: ‘Most serene king, the heart of animals is
the basis of their life, the sun of their microcosm, that from which
all strength proceeds. The king is in like manner the basis of his
kingdom, the sun of his world, the heart of the commonwealth, whence
all power derives, all grace appears.’

[204] _Historia animalium_, vi. 3.

[205] _Historia animalium_, ii. 11; _De Partibus animalium_, iii. 4.

[206] _Historia animalium_, i. 14 and iii. 3; _De Partibus animalium_,
iii. 4. The question of the identity of these chambers is a difficult
one. We have followed T. E. Lones, _Aristotle’s Researches in Natural
Science_, London, 1912, p. 137, where the conflicting views are
summarized.

[207] Galen, Περὶ ἀνατομικω̑ν ἐγχειρήσεων, Book 7 (157); καὶ θαυμαστὸν
οὐδέν, ἄλλα τε πολλὰ κατὰ τὰς ἀνατομὰς ᾽Αριστοτέλη διαμαρτει̑ν, καὶ
ἡγει̑σθαι τρει̑ς ἔχειν κοιλίας ἐπὶ τω̑ν μεγάλων ζώων τὴν καρδίαν, Kühn,
ii. 62.

[208] Haly Abbas expressly denies its existence, chap. 21.

[209] P. Koning, _Trois traités d’anatomie arabes_, Leyden, 1903, 687,
renders the passage as follows: ‘Dans le cœur il y a trois cavités,
deux grandes et une autre qui se trouve pour ainsi dire au milieu,
afin que le cœur ait un dépôt pour la nourriture avec laquelle il se
nourrit, nourriture épaisse et forte, semblable à la substance du cœur,
ensuite un endroit où se forme un pneuma qui y est engendré d’un sang
subtil et enfin un canal entre ces deux.’

[210] _Pantechni, Theorice_, lib. iii, cap. 22. Here, however, only
two _concauitates_ are described and between them a _foramen: quod a
quibusdam vocatur tertia concauitas: sed non est ita_.

[211] The MS. Roncioni 99, reproduced by K. Sudhoff in _Archiv für
Gesch. der Med._, vol. vii, Tafel XIV, Leipzig, 1914.

[212] The passage in the _Editio princeps_ of Gerard of Cremona’s
translation runs as follows (folio 96 recto): ‘Et in ipso sunt
tres ventres, scilicet duo ventres magni et venter quasi medius
quem Galienus nominavit foveam aut meatum non ventrem, ut sit ei
receptaculum nutrimenti quo nutriatur spissum forte simile substantiae
ipsius & minera spiritus generati in ipso a sanguine subtili. Et inter
ambos sunt viae ut meatus.’

[213] J. L. Pagel, _Die Chirurgie des Heinrich von Mondeville_, Berlin,
1892, p. 45.

[214] Bartholomaeus Anglicus, _De Proprietatibus Rerum_, London, 1535,
Our quotation is from p. liiii.

[215] Leonardo da Vinci, _Quaderni d’anatomia ... Pubblicati da O. C.
L. Vangensten, A. Fonahn, H. Hopstock_, Christiania, 1911.

[216] Hans von Gersdorff, _Feldt und Stattbüch bewerter Wundartznei_,
edition Frankfurt, 1556.

[217] Ancient views on the cardiac system, including those of Mondino,
are admirably reviewed by J. C. Dalton in his _Doctrines of the
Circulation_, Philadelphia, 1884.

[218] Manfredi here follows Mondino, who confuses Galen’s fourth pair
with Galen’s sixth pair of nerves.

[219] These four words are very indistinct. The last is half erased and
scia is written _siᷗa_.
ᷛᷛᷗᷛ
[220] Life of St. Edward.

[221] British Museum MS. Cotton. Claud. A. viii, ff. 32, 33, and
_Archaeol. Journal_, London, June, 1864.

[222] MS. Ee. iii. 59.

[223] _History of the Garter_, vol. i.

[224] MS. 9986.

[225] p. 36.

[226] Vol. iii.

[227] p. 334.

[228] _Gent’s. Mag._, N.S., vol. i; British Museum MS. Cotton Nero C.
viii. f. 209.

[229] MS. Cotton Nero C. viii, ff. 212, 213b, and _Gent’s. Mag._, N.S.,
vol. i.

[230] loc. cit.

[231] Record Office, Exchqr. Tr. of R., Mis. Book 203, pp. 150-3.

[232] Record Office, Exchqr. Q. R., Accounts 403/10.

[233] British Museum Harleian MS. 319: Household Accounts of Henry IV,
1405-6.

[234] See R. Crawfurd, _King’s Evil_, p. 45, Oxford, 1911.

[235] Lib. i, chap. 8.

[236] _Bury Wills_, p. 35, Camden Soc., ed. Tymms.

[237] _Archaeol. Journal_, London, vol. iv, p. 78.

[238] British Museum MS. Arundel, fol. 23b, and _Gent’s. Mag_., N.S.,
vol. i, p. 49.

[239] _Gent’s. Mag._, 1794.

[240] Brand, _Pop. Antiq._, ii. 598.

[241] _Gent’s. Mag._, N.S., vol. i, p. 49.

[242] _Cloister Life of Charles V_, p. 109.

[243] Brewer, _State Papers; Budaei Epistolae_, June 10, 1518, 4223.

[244] _Gent’s. Mag._, loc. cit., and British Museum MS. Cotton Calig.
B. ii, fol. 112.

[245] Burnet, _Hist. of Reformation_, part ii, book ii, record 24.

[246] _Hist. of Reformation_, part ii, book ii.

[247] A.D. 1534.

[248] _Lisle Papers_ and _Notes and Queries_, 5th series, vol. ix,
p. 514.

[249] _Lisle Papers_, xi. 15.

[250] _Lisle Papers_, xi. 111.

[251] _Ibid._, xii. 43.

[252] _Ibid._, xii. 58.

[253] _Ibid._, xii. 60.

[254] Registry of Wills, Archdeaconry of Norwich.

[255] Burnet, _Hist. of Reformation_, part ii, book i, § 12.

[256] British Museum Additional MS. 35184, Household Account, 1553.

[257] Series i, vol. ii, p. 292.

[258] Ed. 1622, p. 219.

[259] _Troilus_, book iii, 1069.

[260] _Julius Caesar_, I. ii.

[261] _Tempest_, I. ii.

[262] _All’s Well that Ends Well_, IV. iii.

[263] _Tempest_, IV. i.

[264] _As You Like It_, IV. i.

[265] _Dr. Johann Weyer, der erster Bekämpfer des Hexenwahns_, Bonn,
1885, 2nd ed., Berlin, 1896. Also J. Geffcken, ‘Dr. Johann Weyer’
in _Monatshefte der Comenius Gesellschaft_ 3, 1904; J. Janssen and
L. Pastor, _Geschichte des deutschen Volkes_, 8 vols., Freiburg im
Breisgau, 1898-1903, viii. 600 ff.

[266] Jean Hardouin (Harduinus), _Collectio regia maxima conciliorum
graecorum et latinorum_, 12 vols., Paris, 1715, i. 1506; H. C. Lea,
_History of the Inquisition of the Middle Ages_, 2nd ed., 3 vols.,
London, 1906, iii. 494; W. G. Soldan and H. Heppe, _Geschichte der
Hexenprocesse_, 2 vols., Stuttgart, 1880, i. 132.

[267] Lea, loc. cit., iii. 414.

[268] Soldan and Heppe, loc. cit., i. 128, 139.

[269] See also Lea, loc. cit., iii. 434, on this mildness of the Church
up to the fourteenth century.

[270] Soldan and Heppe, loc. cit., i. 136.

[271] Lea, loc. cit., i. 91.

[272] The Paulicians were accused of teaching that the devil created
this world, but seem merely to have taken such texts as John xii.
31, xiv. 30; 2 Cor. iv. 4 ‘in their plain and obvious sense’. F. C.
Conybeare, _Key of Truth, A Manual of the Paulician Church of Armenia_,
Oxford, 1898, 46.

[273] The term ‘Cathari’ was said to come ‘from their kissing Lucifer
under the tail in the shape of a cat’. Lea, loc. cit., iii. 495.

[274] Lea, loc. cit., i. 105, ii. 334, &c. The main evidence is Conrad
of Marburg’s report to Pope Gregory XI, 1233: ‘A tissue of inventions’,
but ‘apparently doubted by no one’.

[275] Quodlibet, xi. 10; Soldan and Heppe, loc. cit., i. 143; Lea, loc.
cit., iii. 415.

[276] H. Institoris and J. Sprenger, _Malleus Maleficarum_, editio
princeps, Cologne, 1486, and frequently reprinted until the end of the
seventeenth century. See especially pars 1, quaestio 2.

[277] J. Diefenbach, _Der Hexenwahn_, Mainz, 1886, p. 299.

[278] The story of Elinor Shaw and Mary Philips, as well as many other
accounts of witchcraft, may be read in two volumes entitled _Rare
and Curious Tracts illustrative of the History of Northamptonshire_,
Northampton, 1876 and 1881.

[279] F. Hutchinson, _Historical Essay_, London, 1718, cap. iv.

[280] _Daemonolatriae libri tres_, Lyons, 1595.

[281] Trèves, 1595.

[282] _Civ. Dei_, xv. 23.

[283] Peter Binsfeld. _Tractatus de confessionibus maleficorum_,
Trèves, 1595, pp. 37-44, 230, &c. Binsfeld often refers to this case as
proving the reality of disputed forms of witchcraft and the soul-saving
work of the witch-hunters.

[284] L. Meyer, _Die Periode der Hexenprocesse_, Hannover, 1882.

[285] K. Kiesewetter, _Die Geheimwissenschaften_, Leipzig, 1895, p. 579
f.

[286] Op. cit., ii. 2 (p. 200).

[287] _Malleus_, pars i, quaestio 1, p. 6, edit. 1596.

[288] By H. Institoris and J. Sprenger. Between 1486 and 1596 several
editions were printed in specially small form ‘that inquisitors might
carry it in their pockets and read it under the table’.

[289] iii. 1 (p. 337 f.).

[290] _Malleus_, iii. 4, p. 344.

[291] iii. 10.

[292] iii. 14.

[293] iii. 16.

[294] iii. 14.

[295] iii. 29-31, repeated with slight variations.

[296] _Von Zauberei und Zauberern_, p. 211; Soldan and Heppe, i. 347.

[297] The Lindheim cases are recorded by G. C. Horst, afterwards pastor
of the place, in his _Dämonomagie_, 2 vols., Frankfort, 1818, and
_Zauberbibliothek_, 6 vols., Mainz, 1821-6. See also O. Glaubrecht,
_Die Schreckensjahre von Lindheim_, 1886.

[298] _Cautio Criminalis_, Rinteln, 1631, Dubium xix (p. 128). He calls
himself ‘Sacerdos quidam’.

[299] Dubium xx (p. 153).

[300] Horst, _Zauberbibliothek_, ii. 374, and _Dämonomagie_, ii. 412.

[301] Soldan and Heppe, ii. 209.

[302] Soldan and Heppe, ii. 130.

[303] J. H. Böhmer, _Ius ecclesiasticum_, 5 vols., Halle, 1738-43, v.
35.

[304] Horst, _Dämonomagie_, ii. 377.

[305] _Malleus_, iii. 14 (p. 370).

[306] Father Spee gives a long list of these dilemmas, _Cautio
Criminalis_, Dubium li.

[307] _De sagarum natura et potestate, deque his recte cognoscendis et
puniendis deque purgatione earum per aquam frigidam epistola_, Lemgo,
1583. Also in Sawr, _Theatrum de Veneficiis_, 1856.

[308] Lea, iii. 549.

[309] Haas, _Die Hexenprocesse_, Tübingen, 1865.

[310] Soldan and Heppe, ii. 46, and elsewhere.

[311] _Beiträge zur Geschichte des Hexenwesens in Franken_, Bamberg,
1883.

[312] 48 ff.

[313] Official report, given by Leitschuh in appendix.

[314] Maria Hollin at Nördlingen (1593) withstood fifty-six repetitions
of torture, and was finally ‘dismissed’ on the terms mentioned
(Janssen, op. cit., viii. 719).

[315] The Nördlingen authorities acquired an evil eminence in this
frightfulness, which they termed ‘eine heilsame Tortur’ (Soldan, ii.
470).

[316] Lea, iii. 545, and references there given.

[317] _De praestigiis_, &c., ii. 5.

[318] The privilege for publication is dated November 4, 1562; three
editions appeared before the end of 1564, and a sixth in 1583.

[319] Op. cit., ii. 1.

[320] Op. cit., ii. 4.

[321] iii. 6.

[322] iii. 18.

[323] iii. 21.

[324] iii. 23.

[325] iv. 1.

[326] iv. 2.

[327] iv. 3.

[328] iv. 23.

[329] iv. 10.

[330] Op. cit., v. 34.

[331] v. 35.

[332] vi. 4.

[333] vi. 9.

[334] ‘Mossel-scolp nostratibus dicitur.’

[335] Op. cit., vi. 15.

[336] vi. 16.

[337] vi. 16.

[338] Diefenbach, p. 241.

[339] _Cautio Criminalis_, Dubium xlviii.

[340] U. Molitor, _Tractatus de lamiis_, 1561, p. 27.

[341] Hutchinson, _Historical Essay concerning Witchcraft_, London,
1718, pp. 40, 118, 120.

[342] Op. cit., Preludium, i.

[343] Preludium, vi.

[344] J. M. Robertson, _Letters on Reasoning_, London, 1905, cap. vi.

[345] See (_a_) H. Haeser, _Geschichte der Medizin_, Jena, 1875-82,
vol. i, p. 596; (_b_) A. Hirsch, _Biographisches Lexicon der
hervorragenden Aerzte_, Leipzig, 1884, art. ‘Maimonides’, vol. i,
p. 178 f.; (c) K. Brockelmann, _Geschichte der arabischen Litteratur_,
Weimar, 1897-1902, vol. i, p. 490.

[346] = No. 1211 in Zotenberg’s Catalogue, Paris, 1866.

[347] Vol. i, p. 40, Cod. 411.

[348] ‫في السموم‬. Translated into Latin by Armengaud de Blaise of
Montpellier; into French by J. M. Rabbinowicz, _Traité des Poisons de
Maimonide_, Paris, 1865, and into German by M. Steinschneider, _Gifte
und ihre Heilung, eine Abhandlung des Moses Maimonides_. Virchow’s
_Archiv_, LVII, vol. i, pp. 92-109.

[349] ‫في الربو‬. Unprinted. We hope shortly to issue this work.

[350] ‫في تدبير الصحة‬ otherwise ‫رسالة الافضليّة‬. ‘Letter to [the Sultan]
al Afḍal.’ Printed in Latin at Florence, n.d.; Venice, 1514, 1521, &c.;
Leyden, 1535; in the Hebrew translation of Moses ibn Tibbon edited by
Jacob Saphir ben Levi, Jerusalem, 1885; and in German by Winternitz,
_Diätetisches Sendschreiben des Maimonides_, &c., Vienna, 1843.

[351] Printed in the Latin edition [Venice, 1514] of the _de Regimine
Sanitatis_ as Tractatus V of that work.

[352] See L. Leclerc, _Histoire de la médecine arabe_, Paris, 1876,
vol. ii, p. 60, and M. Steinschneider, _Die hebräischen Uebersetzungen
des Mittelalters und die Juden als Dolmetscher_, Berlin, 1893, pp. 767,
772, 773.

[353] ‫رسالة الافضليّة‬.

[354] ‫في اسباب الاعراض‬ and also ‫في بيان الاعراض‬ = on the diagnosis of
accidents.

[355] See note 4.

[356] Op. cit., vol. ii, p. 61.

[357] See Steinschneider, _Hebräische Uebersetzungen_, p. 770, and
his _Catologus Librorum Hebraeorum in Bibl. Bodl._, Berlin (1852-60),
p. 1921. In the _Zeitschrift der Morgenländischen Gesellsch._, vol.
xxx, p. 145, he makes the bare statement that the _Tractatus de Causis
et Indiciis Morborum_--the _Hauptwerk_ of Maimonides, as it is called
by Haeser--rests upon an error. In his catalogue of Bodleian books
(p. 1926) he puts the book down as a bookseller’s fraud after what is
obviously only a cursory glance. He says ‘fraude bibliopolae ex variis
opp. imperfectis confictus est, in quibus an Nostri sit aliquid non
facile eruendum est’.

[358] H. F. Wüstenfeld, _Geschichte d. arabischen Aerzte_, Göttingen,
1840, § 198, No. 7.

[359] _Bibliothecae Bodleianae codicum manuscriptorum Orientalium ...
catalogus a Joanne Uri confectus_, Oxford, 1787, vol. i, p. 140, No.
594.

[360] Also known as ‫الاخلاطى‬ (of Akhlat) or ‫التبريزي‬ (of Tibriz) and as
ابن هبل (Ibn Hubal).

[361] Ibn Abi ‛Uṣaibia wrote an invaluable dictionary of the lives of
the most noted physicians, entitled ‫كتاب عيون الأنباء قي طبقات الأطباء‬
(= The book of the sources of information concerning the various
classes of physicians). It is especially full on the lives of Arab
physicians. See the edition of A. Müller, Königsberg, 1884, vol. i,
pp. 304-6.

[362] C. Rieu, _Supplement to the Arabic MSS. in the Brit. Mus._,
London, 1894, No. 796, II.

[363] Vol. iii, p. 242 of the Catalogue of Arabic MSS. compiled by P.
de Jong and M. J. de Goeje, Leyden, 1865-6.

[364] Abu’l Faraj Gregory, Bar Hebraeus (Wüstenfeld, op. cit., No. 240).

[365] In his work entitled ‫تاربخ مختمر في الدول‬, ‘Compendious History
of the Dynasties’ (edited and translated by E. Pocock, Oxford, 1663),
p. 457 f. of the Arabic and p. 300 of the Latin. Beyrout edition, 1890,
p. 420.

[366] Two MSS. of the work are mentioned in the Catalogue of the
Khedive’s library, ‫فهرست كتابخانه خديوية‬, vol. vi, p. 38. For
further references concerning Muhaḏḏib ed Din and his works, see
(_a_) Wüstenfeld, op. cit., § 202; (_b_) Brockelmann, op. cit, vol.
i, p. 490; (_c_) P. de Koning, _Traité sur le calcul_, Leyden,
pp. 186-228. The more important Arab authors other than Ibn Abi
‘Uṣaibia are: (_d_) Bar Hebraeus, Pocock’s edition, p. 457 of the
Arabic part and p. 300 of the Latin part, Beyrout edition, p. 420;
(_e_) Haji Khalfa, G. Fluegel’s edition, Leipzig and London, 1835-58,
vol. v, p. 436, No. 11584.

[367] See J. Pagel, ‘Maimuni als medizinischer Schriftsteller’, in the
volume of studies on ‘Moses ben Maimon’ edited by W. Bacher and others,
Leipzig, 1908, vol. i, p. 232.

[368] Op. cit., vol. ii, p. 117.

[369] ‫طبقات الحكماء واصحاب النجوم والأطباء‬ in MS. at British Museum
(see Catalogue of Oriental MSS. at the British Museum, London, 1846,
part II, No. 1503, p. 684), Leyden, Berlin, Escurial, and elsewhere.
See Brockelmann, op. cit., vol. i, p. 325.

[370] See Leclerc, op. cit., vol. i, p. 5.

[371] See W. D. Macray, _Annals of the Bodleian_, Oxford, 1890. p. 270.

[372] See Macray’s _Annals of the Bodleian_, p. 271, and the _Dict. of
National Biography_.

[373] _Bibliothecae Bodleianae codicum manuscriptorum ... catalogus_,
vol. ii, ed. A. Nicoll and E. B. Pusey, Oxford, 1835, p. iv.

[374] ‘Praeter errores enim quos ipse admiserit Urius, deprehendi
omnibus fere horum librorum emptoribus, uno Pocockio excepto, libros
supposititios pro veris subinde venditasse vafros Orientales. Codices
ergo fere universos Arabicos, quos recensuit Urius (vulgatioribus
quibusdam exceptis) oculis perlustravi, quo certius scirem titulisne
responderent an non. Quo facto varias errorum formas deprehendi,
titulis nunc charta coopertis, nunc atramento oblitis, nunc cultro
paene abrasis; auctorum porro nominibus paullulum immutatis quo notiora
quaedam referrent, numeris etiam quibus singula volumina signata sunt
permutatis, quo quis opus imperfectum pro integro habeat, paginis
denique pauculis operi alieno a fronte assutis.’

[375] Steinschneider (_Cat. Libr. Hebr. in Bibl. Bodl._, p. 1926)
says this title is invented and no doubt suggested by the name of Al
Tamimi al Muqaddasi (the Jerusalemite), a doctor of the tenth century
(Wüstenfeld, § 112) often praised by Maimonides in the Aphorisms, e.g.
at the end of chap. 20. Pusey’s only note on Uri’s entry in the MS.
is concerned with this title (vol. ii, p. 588): ‘Translator in Cod.
appellatur Alsheikh Soleiman Alhabashi, notus in terra Hierosolymitana
nomine Ibn Hubaish. Opus autem A.D. 1363 ex Hebraico transtulit.’

[376] From the text of the Aphorisms as given in the Bodleian MS.
Pocock 319.

[377] Omitted from the MS. obviously by accident.

[378] No doubt for הרתב.

[379] See p. 227.

[380] = A.D. 1363. The numerals which accompany the written figures are
equivalent to 6,527 and are meaningless.

[381] Published by Macmillans, 1912.

[382] Cf. Mr. H. W. B. Joseph’s _Logic_^2, p. 548.

[383] Cf. §§ 10, 28.

[384] _Post. Anal._ i. 2. 71 b 20.

[385] i.e. truth-claim.

[386] Cf. _Formal Logic_, p. 173.

[387] Mr. Alfred Sidgwick has been pointing out for the past twenty
years how fatal this difficulty is to the traditional notion of formal
validity; nor has any logician confuted his argument, or even shown
that he apprehended its meaning and scope. It would seem, therefore,
that the condition of formal logic is so precarious that its only
chance of survival lies in hushing up all the vital objections to its
stereotyped doctrines. But is not the policy of ignoring unanswerable
objections the sure mark of a pseudo-science?

[388] The latest I have noticed occurs in Abercrombie’s _Inquiries
concerning the Intellectual Powers_ (1830); it reads very strangely now.

[389] Controversially the criticism of ‘self-evidence’ has been met in
the same way as that of the ‘validity’ of the syllogism, i.e. by total
silence.

[390] _Anal. Post._ i. 34.

[391] It may be suggested that there is a similar confusion on this
question: when history is called a science, it is often forgotten that
its data are essentially such that they can only occur once, while the
material of the other sciences is such that cases of ‘the same’ may
always be found in it. But neither need it be denied on this account
that history can, and should, be written in a scientific spirit.

[392] _Science et Méthode_, ch. iii, L’Invention mathématique.

[393] _Republic_, 511 c.

[394] _Anal. Post._ i. 1.

[395] Diogenes Laertius, ix. 51.

[396] Cf. § 3.

[397] Or more difficult, if the indetermination is conceived as limited.

[398] This we saw (§ 4) is really a mistake: mathematical proofs are
really hypothetical, and deduced from the initial postulates and
definitions. They hold of the ideal objects of mathematics, but that
they can be advantageously applied to reality is merely an empirical
fact, and it is not inconceivable that the world should grow _more_
recalcitrant to mathematical treatment, though actually it has grown
_less_ so.

[399] In _Republic_ vi his whole argument for the existence of
metaphysical truth, culminating in a supreme ‘Idea of the Good’,
depends on the assumption that the ‘hypotheses’ of the sciences,
being insecure originally, remain so until they are deduced from a
(self-proving) ‘unhypothetical principle’. This assumes, of course,
that they cannot be confirmed empirically by the results of their
working, and exhibits the _lacuna_ of logic in a typical way.

[400] _Formal Logic_, ch. xxi, § 7.

[401] e.g. the ‘accidental’ distribution of variations in biology, for
which see _Humanism_, pp. 146-50, and the postulates of causality and
determinism in science generally (_Formal Logic_, ch. xx, § 6, and
_Studies in Humanism_, ch. xviii, § 4).

[402] Cf. § 8 and _Formal Logic_, ch. x.

[403] The ‘novelty’ which is claimed for the conclusion of a syllogism
is only one case of this: in the traditional interpretation it is
hopelessly at variance with the demand that it shall also follow from
its premisses of necessity. Cf. _Formal Logic_, ch. xvi, §§ 8-10.

[404] Usually, but wrongly, called ‘dispassionate’ or ‘disinterested’.
What is wanted is, not that the inquiring mind should take no interest
in the conclusions it considers, but that, though it cares keenly
and even passionately for one of them, it should yet be capable of
sufficient self-control to consider fairly the case _against_ the
conclusion it favours. This mental attitude is probably best secured
by caring more for truth than for a party victory, and is denominated
a ‘disinterested love of truth for its own sake’. But even so we love
what we deem the truth, because it is the _best_ thing to believe,
and better (on the whole and in the end) than anything else that is
propounded.






End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Studies in the History and Method of
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