Lecture Ii

Having discovered in the last Lecture the general principles of Astrology, we are now in a position to discuss their application to medicine. We have already found that every Zodiacal Sign and every Planet has its own complexion, or pair of elementary qualities, as hot and dry, hot and moist, cold and dry, or cold and moist, and that each has, accordingly, power over the corresponding humour—yellow bile, blood, black bile or phlegm. We must now remark that among the powers of the Signs and the Planets are some, specially appertaining to medicine, that were omitted in the previous review.

Each Planet has its own peculiar power over the developing fœtus, and exercises this power at a certain period of pregnancy. Saturn has power in the first month after conception, and by its own frigidity (Saturn being cold and dry) infrigidates the fœtus, coagulates it, and drys it up, so causing early abortions. Jupiter is potent in the second month, and bestows on the embryo the spiritus naturalis. Mars, in the third month, supplies the concept with bones, and generally composes, or, as we should say, differentiates, the various internal organs. Sol, in the fourth month, supplies the concept with blood, and perfects the heart and liver. Venus, in the fifth month, gives to the concept ears, eyebrows and pudenda. Mercury, in the sixth month, opens the nose and mouth; and Luna, in the seventh month, causes the development of the lungs, and divides the fingers and toes according to their places.

After birth, each Planet takes under its jurisdiction certain organs and tissues of the body, and certain faculties of the mind; and has, moreover, jurisdiction over certain diseases and certain modes of death.

Saturn, which is cold and dry, and therefore regulates the black bile, presides also over the bones, teeth, cartilages, the right ear, the spleen and the bladder; and over the memory. It has power, of course, over the diseases of these parts, and in addition, over quartan fever, scabies, lepra, tabes, melancholia, paralysis, icterus niger, dropsy, cancer, cough, asthma, phthisis, deafness of the right ear, and hernia. Under Saturn occur sudden and violent deaths by falls, precipitation, ship-wreck, suffocation, hanging, lead-poisoning, and death at the hands of the public executioner.

Jupiter has jurisdiction over the radical moisture, over the blood, the liver, the pulmonary veins, the diaphragm, and the muscles of the trunk; over the senses of touch and smell; over the judgment, and the appetitus concupiscibilis; over the diseases of these parts and faculties, and in addition over small-pox, angina, inflammation, pleurisies and peripneumonias. Deaths due to the influence of Jupiter occur in war, in duels, and by the command of Princes.

Mars has power over the yellow bile, the gall-bladder, the left ear, the pudenda and the kidneys. He prompts the appetitus irascibilis. The diseases due to his influence are acute fevers, plague, yellow jaundice, convulsions, hæmorrhages, carbuncles, erysipelas, ulcers, and phagedæna. He causes death by weapons of steel, from fire, from projectiles, by beheading, mutilation, bites of animals, especially venomous animals, by the slaughters and blood-letting of ignorant surgeons, and death from burns.

Sol regulates the heart, the arteries, the right eye, the right side in men and the left side in women; the vital spirits and the bilious blood; the sight of the right eye in men, and of the left in women, and all good desires. The diseases due to the influence of the sun are ephemeral fevers, syncope, spasm, catarrhs, and diseases of the eyes. When Sol causes death, it is by plague, by syncope, or on the field of battle.

Venus presides over the pituitous blood and semen: over the throat, the breasts, the abdomen, the uterus and genitalia; over taste and smell, touch and the pleasurable sensations, and the appetitus concupiscibilis. The diseases due to Venus are lues venerea, gonorrhœa, priapism, barrenness from cold and moisture (Venus being cold and moist), lientery, and abscesses. Deaths due to her influence are those from poison and from sexual excess.

Mercury has jurisdiction over the animal spirits, over the legs and feet, the hands and fingers, the tongue, the nerves, and the ligaments; over taste and hearing, common sense, imagination and reason. The diseases that he influences are erratic and relapsing fevers, mania, phrenitis, deliria, insanity, epilepsy, convulsion, balbuties, and cough with profuse expectoration. Under his influence occur deaths by poison, by witchcraft, and by process of law for perjury, forgery, and false money.

Finally, Luna presides over the phlegm, the brain, the left eye, the right side in women and the left in men, the stomach, and the membranes; over the sight of the right eye in women and of the left in men; over fear; over quotidian fevers, epilepsy, apoplexy, fatuity, vomiting, fluxes, such as diarrhoea and menorrhagia, dropsy, and cold abscesses. She brings those deaths that occur from superpurgation and from drowning.

It would seem, from the several jurisdictions here assigned to Mercury and Luna, that those whom we call lunatics ought properly to be called Mercurials, for though the moon rules the brain, Mercury has jurisdiction, as we have seen, over mania, phrenitis, delirium, and insanity; and, strictly speaking, no one with any of these maladies ought to be called a lunatic. Lunacy in the strict sense is fatuity interrupted by lucid intervals, as we shall find further on, and this is the sense that it had in law down to the passing of the Lunacy Acts. Until these enactments, the legal meaning of a lunatic was a fatuous or demented person who had, nevertheless, intervals of lucidity; and though in common speech the meaning became generalised, and the term was used to include all insane persons, whatever the nature of their insanity, and whether it was interrupted or continuous, yet lawyers, who are always both more precise and more conservative in the application of terms than other men, continued to use the term lunacy in its strict sense till the middle of the last century.

With respect to the corporature, or the bodily configuration, which, with the corresponding mental disposition, is aspected by the several Planets, there is much misapprehension; and the true doctrine is corrupted, and attenuated to a mere remnant. We are apt to consider that a Saturnine person is taciturn, cynical, and disposed to be malevolent; that a Jovial person is good-humoured and hilarious; that a Mercurial person is restless and vagrant, not continuing in one stay; that a Martial person has a soldierly bearing; and that a Lunatic is out of his mind; and although we should not be wrong in attributing these mental dispositions to the persons so denominated, we should give them but a tithe of the mental qualities the names actually connote; and we have forgotten altogether, not only that there is a corporature, or bodily configuration, that accompanies and indicates each mental temperament, but also that there are persons of Solar and Venereal temperament as well as those that are Jovial, Saturnine, and so forth. The corporature, and the mental disposition that accompanies and is signified by it, are precise and detailed, so that the expert astrologer can tell at a glance what sort of person he has to deal with, and what Planet has jurisdiction over that person’s life, fortunes, and health.

Those, for instance, who are Saturnine, may be known by the following physical signs: they are moderately fleshy, of medium height, their countenances are long, their eyes large and black, their teeth very large; they are of dark complexion, have scanty straight black hair, thin beards, are pigeon-toed, and of truculent bearing. When well affected by the Planet, persons of such a corporature are profound thinkers, investigators of mysteries, prudent, reticent, inclined to solitude, suspicious, laborious, patient, persevering, lovers of work, eager for gain, and masterful. When ill affected by the Planet, they are sad, melancholy, austere, timid, miserly, querulous, taciturn, solitary, followers of the Black Art, suspicious, untruthful, malevolent, untrustworthy to the point of fraudulence, treacherous, and often suffer the penalties of the law for their misdeeds.

The favoured of Jupiter are, in configuration, fleshy, with rounded knees; they are of medium stature, elegant and majestic in bearing. In complexion they are rosy; their eyes are dark and rather large. They are prone to baldness, and have thick reddish beards. When well affected by the Planet, such persons are simple, just, pious, religious, faithful, humane, merciful, hilarious, gracious, open, affable, liberal, splendid, magnanimous and law-abiding. When ill affected, they have these qualities in excess. They are superstitious, sentimental, humanitarian, prodigal and vain-glorious.

The subjects of Mars are thin and well-proportioned; they are pale, with blue eyes and abundant curly hair, not only on the head but on the body. They are of middle stature, with large heads, round faces, small eyes, large nostrils, long teeth and military bearing. When well affected, they are strong, robust, brave, greedy of fame, irascible, given to hunting and games, vindictive, impatient of control, domineering, delighting in war and battles, contemptuous of danger, agile, ready, hasty, self-confident, and indifferent to religion. When ill affected, they are impious, unjust, arrogant, merciless, seditious, foolhardy, quarrelsome, brawlers, homicides, tyrants, incendiaries, robbers, thieves and bandits.

Those under the jurisdiction of Luna are tall, pale, good-looking, with light hair and eyes, and with becoming beards. When well affected, they are ingenious, subtle, sincere, open, honest and well-mannered; when ill affected, they are stupid even to fatuity, timid and restless. It is very important to know that, as might be expected, it is when the moon is waxing that they are well affected, and they are ill affected when she is on the wane. Here we see the origin of the legal doctrine, already alluded to, that a lunatic is a demented person who has lucid intervals, these intervals being when the moon is in the first two of her phases, while the periods of fatuity are the last two phases, when she is past the full, and her light is waning.

The votaries of Mercury are characterised by medium stature, a well-proportioned body, pleasing complexion, and yellow hair. They are graceful, with very small hands, feet and teeth; they have scanty beards, thin voices, and are rapid in their movements. When well affected, they are witty, studious, quick to learn, even without being taught; they are disputatious, wise, cautious, prudent, easily accommodating themselves to persons and circumstances; sociable and inquisitive. When ill affected, they are unstable, forgetful, apt to have hallucinations and to talk nonsense, liars, parasites, flatterers, deceitful, perfidious, perjurers, calumniators, forgers of wills, coiners of false money, meddlers in things that do not concern them, and dangerous counsellors.

Under the jurisdiction of Venus are those of medium stature, succulent, with delicate and fair complexions, good-looking, with crisp brown or blackish hair, dark eyes, narrow eyebrows, narrow chests, and thick thighs. When well affected, they are indolent, bland, pious, religious, merciful, peaceful, sociable, lovers of the arts of singing and of music, elegant and graceful, and given to delicacies and pleasures. They are lucky in love and in friendship, forgiving, and impatient under misfortune. When ill affected, they are timid, imprudent, effeminate, lecherous, and betrayers of women.

Lastly, the characters of those who are ruled by the Sun are a large head, a round and glowing face, large eyes, long hair which at length falls out and leaves them bald, and a sallow complexion. When well affected, they are pious, just, upright, faithful, open, chaste, worldly-wise, apt to anger, but magnanimous, honourable, splendid and magnificent, warm in friendship, and lovers of their wives and children.

It will have been noticed that the descriptions of the bodily configurations are not very definite, and we are warned by Maninius to be very careful of judging of the dominant Planet by the configuration of the body. This, he says, is a part of the science in which many fail; and it is not yet fully ascertained. The knowledge is to be attained by long experience only. Maninius had, indeed, good reason to inculcate caution in interpreting the indications obtained from Astrological lore, for he sought to clench the arguments with which he was defending Astrology from the attacks of Gassendi, by predicting the death of the sceptic upon a certain date. When the date came round in due course, Gassendi unexpectedly refused to die, and Maninius then discovered a mistake in his calculation which had led him to antedate the event. He corrected the error, revised his prediction, and fixed another and later date, beyond which Gassendi could not survive. He seems, however, to have overlooked a second time some material factor, for his opponent lived on, and laughed him to scorn, giving much occasion to the enemy to blaspheme. Maninius, unfortunately, lacked the resource of Dean Swift, who was confronted with the same difficulty by the survival of the astrologer Partridge. Swift, under the pseudonym of Isaac Bickerstaff, predicted that Partridge would die “on the twenty-ninth of March next, about eleven at night, of a raging fever”; and, when the date was past, published a circumstantial account of the death, with a confession by Partridge of the imposture of his predictions. In vain Partridge denied the facts, for Bickerstaff gave five conclusive reasons for disbelieving these protestations, and for holding that Partridge was in fact dead, and in denying the fact had carried beyond the grave his proclivity for telling lies.

When it is remembered that any Sign of the Zodiac may be in any of the Houses of Heaven; that any Planet may be in any House, and may have any aspect, sextile, quartile, trine, or opposition, towards the Ascendent and towards the other Planets; and that the various Planets have by these means their powers reinforced or attenuated in the most various degrees; and when we remember further the different powers that different Planets have over different persons and different diseases, it will easily be seen that the variations are virtually infinite, and the whole scheme far too complicated to put to practical application.

In practice, however, the calculations of the physician were narrowed down to a small number of factors. Arnaldus de Villanova, a physician of great repute in the thirteenth century, limits these as follows:—A perfect physician, he says, should constantly bear in mind eight Astrological factors; and then we are disappointed to find that he enumerates only seven. It is no doubt the want of the eighth factor that has falsified the predictions that I have ventured to make in accordance with his rules. Be that as it may, the factors that he enumerates, as necessary for the perfect physician to consider, are these:

1. The thing concerning which the inquiry is made.

2. The Sign that is in the Ascendent.

3. The Lord of it. (Whether of the Sign or of the Ascendent is not clear.)

4. The Sign that is in the House of the thing inquired about. (In the case of sickness, this may be either the first House, the House of Life; or the eighth, the House of Death; or the sixth, the House of Diseases.)

5. The Lord of it. (Again, whether of the Sign or of the House is not clear.)

6. Its (?) relation to the Ascendent.

7. Its relation to the Moon.

These are to be interpreted in the following manner:

1. The Ascendent and the Lord of it signify the sick man.

2. The middle of Heaven (the tenth House) signifies his physician.

3. The sixth House and the Lord of it signify his disease.

4. The fourth House and the Lord of it signify his physic.

The consequences are these:

If there is evil in the Ascendent, or if the Lord of the Ascendent is subject to adverse influences, the patient will do badly; but if these are propitious, he will do well.

If there should be a benevolent or propitious Lord of the tenth House, which signifies the physician, then his treatment will do the patient good; but if the Lord should be evil, then the patient will be injured by the treatment.

If there should be a powerful influence for good in the eighth House, which is the House of Death, the patient will be quickly cured; but if there should be an evil influence in this House, he will go from bad to worse.

Similarly, if there is good fortune in the fourth House, which is the House of Remedies, his medicine will do him good, but if evil fortune, the medicine will make him worse.

If the Sign in the Ascendent should be mobile, and Luna should be in a mobile Sign, such as Aries, Cancer, Libra, or Capricorn, and the Lord of the Ascendent should also be in a mobile Sign, the illness will soon terminate, either well or badly, especially if Luna is in swift motion. If, however, it happens contrarily, it signifies a long illness, especially if Luna is in a stable Sign, as Taurus, Leo, Scorpio or Aquarius.

If the Lord of the Ascendent should be propitious, and free from adverse influences of other Planets, and Luna likewise, the illness will end favourably, especially if Luna and the Lord of the Ascendent should aspect favourably the Lord of the eighth House, which is the House of Death—that is, if they should be in sextile, and especially if they should be in trine, to that House.

But if Luna, or the Lord of the Ascendent, or the Lord of the House of Sickness, which is the sixth, should be combust and retrograde, or if the Lord of the Ascendent should be in the House of Death in conjunction with Mars or Saturn, both of them malevolent Planets, then there is no hope.

Also, if the moon should be in conjunction with a propitious Planet in the Ascendent, and should be moving forward and her light waxing, and both should be free from adverse influences, then the disease will be quickly cured; but if the moon should be in the House of Death, the patient cannot be saved.

And generally, whenever Luna and the Lord of the Ascendent are subject to adverse influences, it is a mortal sign, and we must fear death, or relapse, or long illness; but when they are fortunately situated, and aspected by well-disposed powers, as when Luna and the Lord are in the Ascendent, then it is a good sign, and ad vitam.

But if the House of Death, and the Lord of the House of Infirmity, or the Lord of the House of Death, are fortified by situation or by aspect, especially when they aspect the moon adversely, then it is a bad sign, and ad mortem; but when they are impeded or weakened, it is a good sign.

Now the position of the heavenly bodies in the Houses of Heaven alters from hour to hour, and a fatal disposition of them now may alter to a favourable one in a couple of hours, and vice versâ. Luna, which is now in the Ascendent, and therefore smiles upon the patient, will, in fourteen or fifteen hours’ time, be in the eighth House, and condemn him to death. It is manifestly of the utmost importance, therefore, to fix upon the correct hour and minute for setting up the tabula cælestiarum. It is to be feared, however, that in this matter astrological physicians allowed themselves a good deal of latitude. There are two fixed moments, one or other of which should be taken as that on which the scheme should be erected. One of these is the moment of birth; the other is the decumbiture.

It will be seen that the scheme of the nativity of Charles XII sets forth the year, the month, the day, hour, and minute of birth, and the scheme is erected accordingly, and admits of no doubt or variation. There was, however, a process known to Astrologers by the name of Rectification of the Nativity, a process the rules of which are difficult to discover, but the practical result was to shift the heavenly bodies from positions that were inconvenient to the Astrologer to positions more suitable to his purpose. I should never myself make an alteration of this nature, which does not seem to me quite justifiable, but, emboldened by this established astrological practice, I have ventured to make a trifling alteration in the scheme of nativity that I have placed before you as that of Charles XII. As originally erected, it referred not to the year 1682 but to the year 1594, and to the moment of birth, not of Charles XII, but of a previous King of Sweden, namely, Gustavus Adolphus, the Lion of the North, and the Bulwark of the Protestant Faith. In working it out, I found that by no ingenuity and by no artifice could I make the predictions to be drawn from this scheme of nativity fit in with the known career of that great and successful commander. They suited, however, with such surprising accuracy and appropriateness the career of his successor Charles XII that I felt it was a pity to allow myself to be fettered, in applying them to him, by a punctilio of needless scrupulosity. I did not venture to take that liberty with the facts that astrologers were accustomed to take, by altering the positions of the heavenly bodies in the Houses of Heaven; I merely altered the date by less than a century, and substituted the name of one King of Sweden for another.

In estimating the scheme of the heavens relating to the illness of a patient, it is always advisable to compare it with the scheme of his nativity. If that Planet which was Lord of the Ascendent in the nativity is favourably placed and fortunately aspected in the scheme of the decumbiture, and is neither combust nor retrograde, the patient will be strengthened and live, and vice versâ.

These are the considerations that should weigh with a perfect physician; but the authority I am now quoting from lived seven centuries ago, and the world was very different then from what it is now. It would appear that in those remote and benighted times there actually were physicians who were not perfect, and to temper the difficulties of astrological practice to these weaker brethren, they were taught a method of procedure that is shorter and easier, but less accurate. It will have been noticed how prominent a place is assigned to the moon in the explanations that have been given, although in setting up the scheme no separate mention was made of her, but she was just lumped in together with the other Planets, which had presumably equal value, except in as far as their power was subdued or enhanced by their position. In the modified and abbreviated scheme that was drawn up for the guidance of the general practitioner, the whole burden lay upon the moon. It was recognised that a busy practitioner could not be expected to have the correct positions of the Planets always at his fingers’ ends; but he could scarcely be ignorant of the phase in which the moon was, of whether she was waxing or waning, or even of the Sign she occupied. Consequently, except to the very expert—to the dwellers in the Harley Street and Wimpole Street of that day—the moon alone was the guide to treatment and prognosis.

I must now go back for a moment, and call your attention to certain Facultates Naturales possessed by the human body, and governed by the Planets. These are the Retentrix, the Coctrix, the Expultrix, the Attractrix, the Vegatatrix and the Generatrix; and each has, of course, its corresponding complexion. Retention, for instance, is favoured by cold and drought, Digestion by heat and moisture, Expulsion by cold and moisture, and Attraction by heat and drought.

It follows, of course, that retentive medicines, given to check fluxes of any kind, should be administered either when Luna is in a sign that is cold and dry, such as Taurus, Virgo or Capricorn, or when one of these signs is in the Ascendent; and at such times retentive drugs should be not only administered but prepared, for their virtues are not in themselves, but are part of the celestial virtue communicated from the celestial bodies, from which all virtues are derived. So that retentive medicines, such as sugar of roses, diaciton and diapapaver, should be prepared as well as administered when one of these cold and dry signs is in the Ascendent, or when the moon is in one of them. If, however, we wish to reinforce the expulsive faculty, as for instance in constipation or amenorrhœa, the medicament must be prepared and administered when Luna is in Cancer, Scorpio or Pisces, or when one of them is in the Ascendent; for these Signs are cold and moist. In this case we must be careful, however; for if a purgative is given when the motion of Luna is retrograde, the expulsion will be retrograde, and instead of purgation we shall cause vomiting; but if we are so incautious and ignorant as to give purgatives when the moon is retrograde in Leo, which has an aspect to the heart and blood, we shall produce vomiting of blood.

Diseases of plethora are very dangerous when a man is taken sick upon a full moon, and diseases of wasting are most dangerous when he is taken sick upon a waning moon. Let me entreat you therefore to give physic for inanition when the moon is near the full, and for plethora when she has lost her light; and remember that a humour can scarcely be diminished but when the moon is waning, nor increased except when she is waxing.

It is very bad when, in the beginning of a sickness, the moon is in a Sign of the nature of the peccant humour, as in the hot and dry Signs Aries, Leo or Sagittarius, when the peccant humour is choler; the cold and dry Signs Taurus, Capricorn or Virgo, when it is melancholy; the hot and moist Signs Gemini, Libra or Aquarius, when it is blood; or the cold and moist signs Cancer, Scorpio or Pisces, when it is phlegm.

Naturally, when she is in a fiery Sign, it is easy to amend a disease of phlegm, but if choler abound, wait until she is in a watery Sign.

We see, therefore, how very important it is to consider the aspect of the heavens before we begin our treatment; and though it is true that patients do sometimes recover under the care of ignorant physicians who take no account of these things, yet in such cases, says my authority, the patient recovers by accident, and not by the skill of the physician.

An additional reason for studying the motion of the moon in illness is because this motion regulates the critical days. A crisis is defined as a swift and vehement motion of a disease, leading to recovery or death. Strictly speaking, those only are true crises which lead to recovery, but inaccuracy and corruption have crept into the meaning, until some authors enumerate six kinds of crisis, which I need not enumerate here; but all authorities are agreed, and their agreement seems to me to arise from everyone copying the words of his predecessor, that for a true and perfect crisis six conditions must be fulfilled.

In the first place, the crisis must be complete, that is to say, the whole of the materia peccans must be evacuated; for instance, all the bile in tertian fever, and all the phlegm in quotidian fever. If the whole of the materia peccans is not evacuated, it is evident that the patient may relapse.

The second condition is that none of the peccant material should remain. This is evidently quite as important as the first, that all of it should be evacuated.

The third condition is that health must be completely regained, and there must be no terrible accidents or pernecabilibus, such as running of the eyes.

The fourth condition is that the crisis must be manifest; that is to say, there must be a sensible evacuation of the materia peccans.

The fifth condition is that the crisis must make indication, and as to the meaning of this, I have come, after long and careful study, to the conclusions on another subject arrived at by my authority, and piously expressed by him in the words, Deus solus cognoscit, quia habet neque caput neque caudam.

The sixth condition is that the crisis must occur on a critical day.

The critical days are governed entirely by the motion and positions of the moon. It is clear that there can be no crisis for good except materiâ peccante coctâ, and it is evident that the materia peccans cannot be digested in as short a time as two days; consequently the first and second days of a disease cannot be critical. The third day is intercadent, and the fourth is indicative, because, manifestly, whatever happens on the fourth day will happen with exaggerated force on the seventh. The fifth day again is intercadent, and of no significance, nor is the sixth of any. The seventh is the first critical day, for then the moon is in quartile to the decumbiture, and is necessarily in a Sign of opposite nature in all respects to that in which she was at the decumbiture. If she was in Aries at the decumbiture, she will be on the seventh day in Cancer. Now, Aries is hot and dry, Cancer cold and moist; Aries is masculine, Cancer feminine; Aries diurnal, Cancer nocturnal. The quartile aspect is thus thoroughly hostile, and whatever process Luna favours at the decumbiture she will oppose when she reaches the quartile. At the decumbiture she favoured the disease, for otherwise the disease would not have occurred; at the quartile, therefore, she opposes the disease, and makes for a favourable crisis.

The eighth day is neutral, the ninth intercadent, the tenth neutral, and the eleventh indicative, for whatever happens on the eleventh will happen with exaggerated force on the fourteenth, which is the second and most critical day, for then the moon is in opposition to the decumbiture, and with all her might counteracts all that took place at the decumbiture. The next critical day is, of course, the twenty-first, when she is again in quartile, and finally, between the twenty-seventh and twenty-eighth she comes into conjunction. If the disease has not been ended by crisis on one of the three critical days, the reinforcement that it now receives from the conjunction of the moon converts the acute disease into a chronic, and henceforth it is governed no longer by the positions of the moon, but is regulated, according to the same laws, by the sun. The next crisis will not take place therefore for two months, when the sun will be in quartile to the decumbiture.

Of course, the favourable or unfavourable character of the crisis will depend largely upon whether, on the critical day, the moon is favourably aspected by good Planets, or unfavourably influenced by bad ones.

It will be seen that all of these influences and dates depend upon the moment of the decumbiture, which is described as the first punct of time of the invasion of the disease; and this, as Galen says, is very hard to find. It is easy, indeed, to find the decumbiture in the literal sense, that is to say, the time when the patient takes to his bed; but when the beginning of the sickness is, that, says Culpeper, is the question; ‘for a lusty stout man bears the disease longer before he takes to his bed than a puny sickly man: a meer suspition of sicknesse will send a faint-hearted man to bed; you may perswade him he is sick whether he is or no. Notwithstanding, in most acute diseases, as also in many others, as Falling Sickness, Palsies, Apoplexies, and Pleurisies, ’tis an easy thing to find the precise time of the invasion of a disease. The best opinion is that that moment of time is to be taken in which a man finds a manifest paine or hurt in his body; for instance, when a man hath got a Fever, usually the head akes certain dayes before; this is not the Fever, but a messenger or forerunner of the Fever; the true beginning is when a horrour or trembling invades the Sick.’

Certain objections to these doctrines did not escape the notice of the astrologers who taught them. ‘If,’ says one, ‘the crisis depends on the motion of the moon and her aspect to the other Planets, what is the reason, if two men be taken ill at one and the same time, that yet the crisis of one falls out well, and not so the other?’ The reasons are manifold. The virtue working is changed according to the diversity of the virtue receiving; for you all know the sun makes the clay hard and the wax soft, it makes the cloth white and the face black; so then, if one be a child, whose nature is hot and moist, the other a man in the prime of life, whose nature is hot and dry, and the third an old man, whose nature is cold and dry, the crisis works diversely because their natures are different.

Secondly, in the Spring time, diseases are most obnoxious to a child, because his nature is hot and moist. A disease works most violently with a choleric man in Summer, with a melancholy man in Autumn, and with a phlegmatic man in Winter.

Thirdly, if at the decumbiture the moon was aspected by Mars, whose nature is hot and dry, if the disease be of heat and drought it is mightily aggravated: not so if it be cold.

Fourthly, the complexions of the patients may be different; the one hot and dry, the other cold and moist. If the disease be hot and dry, it will not be so violent upon a cold and moist body as on a hot and dry.

Fifthly, their nativities may not agree. If the moone be aspected by Saturne or Mars at the nativity, the disease is dangerous; not so if she be aspected by Jupiter or Venus; or Saturn may be Lord of one nativity and not of the other, and then he may hurt the one and not the other, for the Devil will not hurt his own. If you can possibly get the nativities, you shall not err. ‘For example, I know,’ says my authority, ‘three children born at one and the same time. At five years of age they all three had convulsion, whereby they were all three lame of one leg, the boyes on the right, and the girl on the left. At 14 they dyed altogether on one and the same day of the small-pox.’

To us, with our present knowledge, and requirements of evidence, and our ways of thought, all this appears such a farrago of tomfoolery that it is difficult to understand how it can have been seriously entertained by men of ordinary intelligence; and yet we know that it was in fact believed by the rarest intellects of their time, some of them, like Roger Bacon and Albertus Magnus, among the rarest intellects of all time; and it is an interesting exercise to try and carry our minds back and put ourselves as far as we can in the position of our forefathers. We shall then find it easy to understand why the system was maintained, and not difficult to discover how it originated. The first is explained by the overwhelming power of authority, the last by the belief that was overthrown by Copernicus.

In the first place, we must imagine ourselves living on an earth that is the centre of the universe, and that to the earth, and especially to its human inhabitants, the rest of the universe is subservient. The universe was created to serve a certain purpose, ‘the diapason closing full in man.’ That anything could exist for any other purpose than the service of mankind was not conceived, was probably not conceivable, by our forefathers. At a time almost within the memory of some now living, one of our leading philosophers declared that in the world there is nothing great but man. If he had expressed all that was in his mind, no doubt he would have said in the world there is nothing great but Scotchmen; but taking the declaration as he made it, it summarises effectively the attitude of our ancestors towards the cosmos. It was made for their benefit. To them there was no greater paradox than that

Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bear, Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste (mark the word) its sweetness on the desert air.

This being so, of what use are the heavenly bodies? The overpowering and incalculable value to man of the sun is evident enough. By its daily transit through the sky it makes the difference between the day, the time of man’s activity, and night, the time of his repose. By its annual transit through the Signs of the Zodiac it makes the differences among the seasons, and so regulates his food supply, whether animal or vegetable, his comfort, and his welfare in a thousand particulars. Here we have the root of the whole matter; but to understand it fully we must remember that the sun was but one of seven Planets, all resembling him in so many important respects that it was impossible not to attribute to them powers corresponding with his, if different from his. So that, if the sun had power over the affairs of men, so had the other Planets; if his power varied according to the Sign he occupied, so did theirs; if his power altered with his height above the horizon, so did theirs. In a world in which natural law was unknown, and everything seemed to happen by chance, the mind clutched at anything that offered an explanation of the ways in which things happen. Here was an explanation ready to hand, and needing only study and interpretation.

The moon is evidently complementary to the sun. Her power is greatest when she is in opposition, and at this time she antagonises the sun by producing a colourable imitation of daylight at night, and thus interfering with his power of regulating light and darkness. This is naturally taken as an instance of a general law, that opposition means antagonism, a meaning that is now become fixed and general; and since opposition is but one of several differences of position, it follows that every such difference—trine, quartile and sextile—means some difference of influence. Again, the moon, as far as her power extends, antagonises the sun, and works against him. But the sun is manifestly and immensely beneficial to the human race, and is a benevolent power; consequently, the moon is malevolent and injurious. Both sun and moon are but samples and members of the family of Planets, and whatever characters they possess must be shared by the rest of the family. The other Planets, therefore, must be benevolent or malevolent in their degree, and must exercise their powers, as the sun and moon do, according to their position above the horizon, that is in the Houses of Heaven, or in the Signs of the Zodiac.

As the sun undoubtedly by its position and movements produces the seasons, and as the moon has faculties and qualities of like kind, though inferior in power, it follows that she too regulates some natural phenomena of minor importance to the seasons. Such minor natural phenomena are displayed by the weather; and the belief that the moon regulates the weather is the one astrological doctrine that still displays vitality. The other Planets are irregular in their movements, being now rapid, now slow, now direct, now retrograde; clearly, therefore, their influence will be exerted upon those great natural events that are irregular and occasional in their incidence; and thus it is that Saturn produces intense frost, inundations and tempests; that Mars regulates thunder and lightning and the invasion of pirates; that Venus brings beneficial floods, rains, and mists; that under Mercury occur droughts and squalls, and so forth.

All these catastrophes have their effects on the welfare and fortunes of men, and consonantly with the belief already stated, were conclusively presumed to take place for no other purpose than to affect, in one direction or other, the lives and fortunes of men. It would be strange if, after being credited with these powers for this purpose, the Planets were not further endowed with the power of causing those catastrophes, equally inexplicable otherwise, and still more affecting human welfare, plague, pestilence, and all other diseases.

In order to produce diseases, the Planets must influence the humours by whose defect or excess diseases were produced; and since entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter necessitatem, the Planets could not influence these humours except by themselves possessing and distributing the same elementary qualities, heat, cold, drought, and moisture, that characterise the humours. This doctrine was the easier to establish since it was already known that these four qualities pervade all things in nature. The very elements themselves, out of which all things are compounded, are but embodiments of the four elementary qualities in their four possible combinations. Fire is hot and dry, Air is hot and moist, Earth is cold and dry, Water is cold and moist. When it is remembered that the four humours are similarly compounded, yellow bile being hot and dry, blood hot and moist, black bile cold and dry, and phlegm cold and moist, it becomes evident, even if it were not already certain from the universal prevalence of these qualities, that corresponding pairs must be possessed by the several Planets to give them those powers over disease that they undoubtedly exercise. This useful method of the circulus in probando is not the only device that our forefathers have bequeathed to us, and that still serves our purposes with all its original efficacy.

When we have got thus far, the remaining doctrines of medical astrology follow naturally by the development and elaboration of those we already possess, aided by further analogies, more or less far-fetched, and by chance coincidences, such as that already mentioned which led Guy de Chauliac to attribute the great plague of 1345 to the conjunction of Saturn, Jupiter and Mars in Aquarius in March of that year.

We should take a very superficial view of Astrology, however, if we failed to recognise that beneath all its strange doctrines, and under all its monstrous assumptions, lies the insatiable craving of the human mind for explanation. Every event that happens before us throws down an irresistible challenge to us to explain it. We are so constituted that we cannot rest until it is explained; but we are also so constituted that we are apt to accept as sufficient anything that purports to be an explanation, even if it rests upon no reasonable ground, or even if it is a mere verbal explanation that explains nothing. We have discarded Astrology as a garment that we have outgrown, even as the snake wriggles itself out of its skin, and the crab withdraws itself from a rigid envelope that is too small for it; but can we assure ourselves that we have outgrown and discarded the mental carapace that renders such beliefs as Astrology possible? Do not logicians still teach doctrines every bit as absurd as the doctrines of Astrology? And even in Medicine itself, do we never take that for an explanation that is no explanation? Before we can cast stones at the Astrologers, have we no windows of our own to guard? Let those answer who explain aphasia by calling it a loss of memory for words; who explain ataxy by calling it loss of the power of coordinating movements; who explain a delusion by discovering a lesion in the brain; who explain feeble mindedness by hereditary influence; who explain hysteria entertained in middle age by some sexual irregularity committed in youth; or who explain an hypothetical increase of appendicitis by an hypothetical increase in the consumption of meat. Surely we have every right to despise those who attributed all acute diseases to the influence of the moon, and all chronic diseases to the influence of the sun, for we know with assured knowledge that acute diseases are in fact produced by intestinal stasis, and that chronic diseases are due to that blessed combination of words—alimentary toxæmia.

ASTROLOGY IN MEDICINE.

To the Editor of THE LANCET.

SIR,—I trust that with your well-known love of fair play you will kindly permit me to make a few remarks on this subject and to ask Dr Mercier a few questions of public interest.

With all respect for the learned doctor, and with due acknowledgment of his candid admission that astrology was believed in and seriously studied ‘by the rarest intellects of their time, some of them, like Roger Bacon and Albertus Magnus, the rarest intellects of all time,’ I wish to ask: Does Dr Mercier think that such rarest intellects were incapable of distinguishing truth from error, and could have accepted the superstitions associated in their day with astrology? Surely not. They accepted astrologia sana as Bacon (Lord Verulam) accepted it, as a part of physics and discarded superstition. One might as reasonably proclaim medicine nowadays to be ‘tomfoolery,’ on the ground of the superstitions connected with it formerly, as Dr Mercier condemns astrology and pronounces it as ‘dead’—officially. Dr Mercier’s only argument against astrology on scientific grounds is the worn-out and utterly unfounded assertion that it was overthrown by Copernicus!

* * * * *

Dr Mercier ridicules the belief of that eminent man Guy de Chauliac that the outbreak of the ‘Black Death’ in the middle of the fourteenth century was due to the great conjunction of Saturn, Jupiter, and Mars in Aquarius on March 24th, 1345. Neptune was also in the same sign at that time—a planet unknown then. Such a doryphory of great planets in Aquarius, a sign which is found to relate to epidemic diseases, certainly foreshadowed the outbreak of a pandemic; and if Dr Mercier will compare the periods of great conjunctions in Aquarius he will find that great epidemics always coincided therewith. If Dr Mercier had directed attention to the immense difference made by the discovery of Uranus and Neptune, he would have recognised that many mistakes of ancient and mediæval astrologers were due to their being unaware of the existence and relative positions of these distant planets.

I hope Dr Mercier will forgive me for directing attention to the above points. I am sure that he meant to be as fair as possible in his delineation of mediæval astrology; in fact, he proved this intention by the last paragraph but one of his second lecture. I should be happy to meet Dr Mercier in friendly debate on this important subject before any learned society or private assembly.

I am, Sir, yours faithfully, ALFRED J. PEARCE.

Dec. 3rd, 1913.

⁂ Mr Pearce makes an appeal for publication which we have not been able to resist, but the view that the operations of nature are mysterious until they are understood cannot be advanced as a complete defence of mysticism.—ED. L.

To the Editor of THE LANCET.

SIR,—Like yourself, I am unable to withstand the appeal that Mr Pearce makes to me. He asks me whether I think that Roger Bacon and Albertus Magnus were incapable of distinguishing truth from error. I hasten to assure him that in my opinion these eminent men were as incapable of making a mistake as I am myself. The experience of mankind throughout the ages shows that clever men never make mistakes. No clever general has ever been defeated in battle; no clever judge was ever upset on appeal; no clever counsel ever lost a cause; no clever theologian ever held an erroneous opinion, or at any rate an opinion that was held to be erroneous by other clever theologians; no clever doctor ever made a wrong diagnosis; no clever schoolboy ever needs to have his exercises corrected; in fact ability and infallibility mean the same thing.

Mr Pearce is certainly right in pouring contempt upon my argument that Copernicus overthrew astrology; at least, he would have been right if I had made the statement, or if I had called it an argument.

I should be most happy to accept Mr Pearce’s challenge to debate this important subject before a learned society were it not that I am at present immersed in a much more important investigation, which absorbs my whole time and attention. That Saturn, Jupiter, and Mars, in conjunction in Aquarius, must have produced the Black Death in the following year is patent to everyone and needs no demonstration, but it required the insight of genius to discover that the burning of York Minster was due to the superabundance of snails in a certain back garden early in the same year. It is the peculiar merit of the adept, be he an astrologer or merely an haruspex, to recognise the significance of such coincidences. It seems to have escaped altogether the observation of the vulgar that this year of grace 1913 has been characterised no less by the superabundance of snails in back gardens than by the number of conflagrations initiated by suffragettes. The causal nexus needs no proof; but if it did, proof would be found in the fact that in Ireland, from which snails were banished by the beneficent action of St Patrick, and where there are no back gardens, the backs of the houses being in front, there has been no suffragette incendiarism. I will not pursue the subject further in this place, but if Mr Pearce wants any further information he will find it in my forthcoming book, ‘De Conflagrationibus et de Multitudinibus Helicidarum in Hortulis Posticis.’

I am, Sir, yours faithfully, CHAS. MERCIER.

Dec. 13th, 1913.

SAINTS AND SIGNS

(Part of a third Lecture, which was not delivered, but was read to the Casual Club, Nov. 1912)

It used to be a point of honour with me, and I believe with other members of this Club, never to read up the subject of the evening’s discussion. So to do would be to deprive the discussions of that casual character which is their distinctive charm, and which gives its name to the Club. It is with regret that I have noticed of late years signs that this honourable understanding is not maintained, and therefore I have chosen for this paper a title which will have rendered impracticable any attempt to acquire information of its subject from outside sources. If any member present has been trying to steal a march upon the rest by looking up the literature of miraculous signs, adduced in evidence of the truths of Christianity by the heroes or the victims of canonisation, I have the pleasure of informing him that he has been wasting his time; and I may further inform those members who have made direct inquiries of me as to the scope of the subject indicated by my title, that my answers, while of course strictly truthful, were intended to mislead, and have, I trust, served their purpose.

I have here a specimen of a metallic token, which, if any of you have never seen one, I shall be glad to hand round—I wish I had more, so that I might present one to each of you as a memento of this joyful occasion, but the Chancellor of the Exchequer seizes upon every specimen with such avidity that they are becoming more and more scarce and difficult to obtain—a metallic token which serves in this country as the standard of value, and is known as the sovereign or pound sterling. If you will let observation with extensive view survey it on both aspects, you will find that on the obverse or the reverse—I never know which is which—it bears the image, though not the superscription, of St George of Cappadocia, who has abandoned the more lucrative occupation of army contractor in order to follow the more honourable calling of patron saint.

He is engaged, you will observe, in his customary avocation of slaying the dragon, an operation which he performs in a rather surprising manner. Chastely attired in a helmet much too large for him, the weight of which has dislocated his neck, and mounted on a pony many sizes too small for him, the saint is in the act of kicking the dragon in the neck with his bare foot, while the pony simultaneously kicks the animal on the head with his off fore, and treads on its abdomen with his near hind. The triple assault so confounds the dragon that instead of biting the leg of the saint or of the pony, both of which are within easy reach, he retaliates by swearing, which any intelligent dragon must know would avail little against a Welsh pony (unless indeed the dragon should swear in Welsh, of which there is no evidence) and would be quite ineffectual against a saint, especially a saint who had had as long an experience in the army as St George of Cappadocia.

George of Cappadocia was a commercial man, and a very successful commercial man, and no doubt it is meet and right and our bounden duty to place upon the standard of value in this commercial country the effigy of a successful commercial man. But it is not on account of his success in commerce that the effigy of George appears on the fronts—or backs—of our coins. If we wanted to typify upon our coins the highest development of the commercial spirit, I suppose we should stamp them with the image of Lord Rothschild, or of Mr Rockefeller; but we do not. We stamp them with the image of St George of Cappadocia, not because he was a prosperous and successful commissary, but because, for some unknown reason, he subsequently became a saint. At some remote time, I do not know when or why, George was chosen as the patron saint of this country, and it is because he is the patron saint of England that his image appears on those useful tokens that are collected with such avidity by the Chancellor of the Exchequer. Mr Rockefeller would not be eligible, because he is not a saint.

Patron saints were in past times much more highly valued and much more frequently employed than they are now. France has, or had, a patron in St Louis. I speak without accurate knowledge, but I believe I am correct in saying that, in the common phrase, he has joined the ranks of the unemployed. Scotland placed itself under the patronage of St Andrew, Ireland of St Patrick, Wales of St David, Spain of St James; and if I cannot adduce any other examples, it is because these are the only nations—if we can allow that Scotland is a nation—that remain as they were before the modern redistribution of the map of Europe.

But nations were not the only things that had patron saints. Every family that aspired to county rank, and indeed, every person who aspired to be of consequence, had his or her patron saint. Nor was this all, as they say in Oxford. Every profession and calling had its patron saint. The patron saint of medicine was St Luke. Who was the patron saint of lawyers I do not know, but no doubt they chose a very powerful one, for their need was great; or perhaps no saint would consent to act for them, for of all the Inns of Court it is curious that not one is named after a saint. As to other callings, the sailor-men had a patron saint in St Botolph, ferrymen in St Christopher, fishermen in St Peter, shoemakers in St Crispin, butchers in St Bartholomew, huntsmen in St Hubert and so on. I need not remind you that to this day every church has its patron saint, but you may not know that every part of the human body, and every ailment of the human body had its patron saint. The head was under the patronage of St Ottila; the neck acknowledged St Blasius; the body, St Lawrence; the legs and feet, St Rochus and St John; and thereby hangs a curious tale, as we shall see presently.

Except for countries and churches, patron saints are not now much utilised; but it is evident, from their universal employment in former times, that they were once of great importance. At the present day, a patron is a merely ornamental personage. He gives his name, and he is usually expected to give a subscription, but beyond this, his only function is to confer respectability. In former times, however, his functions were much more active. Patron, I may remind you, is correlative with client, as father with child, or master with servant. A child necessarily implies a father, and without a father can no child be. A master implies a servant, and where there is a servant, there must be a master. And similarly, patron and client are correlative. There can be no patron without a client, and no client without a patron. For this reason, I object to and resent the custom that has recently arisen, of tradesmen calling their customers clients, especially as in the same breath they ask their customers for patronage. A master might as well ask his servant for orders, or a father expect a tip from his child, as a patron ask his client for patronage.

The relation of patron and client was the relation of protector and protected. I don’t know whether those who placed themselves under the patronage of a saint called themselves his clients, but undoubtedly they invoked and expected his protection; and it was for the sake of protection that they provided themselves with patron saints. We must remember that in the days when men provided themselves with patron saints, no one could afford to be without protection. We have only to pay attention to the litany to realise how urgent was the need. The litany is one long prayer for protection. We pray to be protected from evil and mischief, from the crafts and assaults of the devil, from the wrath of God, from lightning and tempest, from plague, pestilence and famine, from battle and murder, and from sudden death. We pray for protection for all that travel by land or by water, for all prisoners and captives, for all sick persons (against their doctors I suppose), and for all sorts and conditions of men.

In those days, the modern conception of the reign of law, in the sense of the inexorableness of natural causation, had not yet been attained. Things happened in those days, not in obedience to natural laws, but according to caprice, and to whether the devil got a chance when God was not attending, or when the saints, his ministers, were pre-occupied with other affairs. The Almighty was too august to be approached directly. Indeed, it seems to have been assumed that he occupied the position of a constitutional sovereign, and acted only on the advice or the intercession of his ministers, the saints, so that it was of the first importance to have the protection and favour of a powerful and influential saint.

When clans or nations joined battle, their war-cry was the name of their patron saint, who was expected to fight on the side of his votaries or clients, to see that they had all the luck and came out top dog. Not infrequently, the saint came down on purpose, and in bodily presence led them to the attack. Many such instances are on record, and it is worth notice that, whoever the saint that thus interpreted his obligations, he was always mounted on a white horse.

Although wars were very frequent in mediæval times, it would be a mistake to suppose, as historians before the present generation seemed to suppose, that the whole time of the whole male population of the world was occupied in fighting, and in nothing else. No doubt, in times when there were no newspapers, no novels, no theatres, no cricket, no football, no suffragists, no divorce court, no kinematographs and no parliamentary debates, people must have suffered terrible boredom, and would have been driven now and then to do a little wholesome fighting from sheer vacancy of mind; and no doubt, when there were no motor buses, no taxi-cabs and no municipal tram-cars, the normal increase of population must have required some other check to keep it within the bounds of the means of subsistence; and so people plunged into war to save themselves from famine; but still, the laity did not live wholly on acorns and beech-mast, nor the clergy on Greek roots, and therefore some industrial occupations must have been followed; and we know as a matter of fact that some were followed; and whatever a man’s occupation might be, whether of war or peace, it was necessary, if he was to have any luck, that he should have a patron saint; and hence it was that a patron saint presided over every trade and calling. Not even thieving could prosper except under the patronage of St Nicholas.

My own occupation had not then reached the perfection that it has now attained, and in those days there were maladies that baffled the resources of medical art as it then was, and defied all the drugs in the pharmacopœia, reinforced as that then was by many potent and valuable remedies that the ignorance and indifference of a later age has suffered to fall into disuse. Pounded earthworms, ants’ eggs, asses’ dung, the urine of a bull or—strange alternative—of a virgin, vipers’ fat, the water that had been used for washing a corpse—all these, incredible as it appears, sometimes failed to cure; and then there was no resource left but to go to the celestial Harley Street, and consult a specialist saint. For the celestial Harley Street had as many saintly specialists as its mundane successor has now of specialists who are, perhaps, not altogether saintly. St Apollonius was the leading authority on toothache; St Avertin appropriated my own specialty of lunacy; St Benedict practised in stone and other diseases of the bladder; St Hubert specialised in hydrophobia; St John in epilepsy; St Vitus in chorea; St Maur in gout; and St Anthony in erysipelas. Of course, it was not to be expected that everyone should know the right saint to go to in any particular malady, any more than the man in the street knows at the present time precisely the best specialist, who is not a saint, to consult for the malady with which he may happen to be afflicted. It would have been as absurd to go for one’s gout to St Apollonius, the President, if one may so put it, of the celestial College of Dentists, as for the toothache to St Maur, whose specialty was gout. In cases of difficulty, it was necessary to consult a priest, as one now consults a general practitioner.

Of course, in those days as in these, the fee had to be considered. Guineas had not then been coined, and payment was usually made in candles, burnt at the shrine of the saint, a mode of remuneration that, for my own part, I am glad to say has been abandoned. This method of payment was rather after that of the sister profession than of modern medicine. The saint had a number of candles marked on his brief, as it were, and unless the retainer was satisfactory, he refused to look at the papers. No doubt there were needy saints, not too scrupulous, who would undertake any case for a candle or two, whether they were qualified to treat it or not; just as now there are sixpenny doctors, and surgeons who will undertake a case of mental disease; but it is to be hoped that the leaders of the profession had more conscience, and that a saint who specialised on blindness, for instance, would no more undertake a dislocation or a fracture than a Chancery leader would undertake the defence of a prisoner at the Old Bailey, or a reputable surgeon would treat a patient suffering from mental disorder.

So far, then, our mediæval ancestors were thoroughly well provided with patrons. There was scarcely any occasion in life that had not a saint who had specialised in its requirements and was ready to supply them for a consideration—for a sufficient number of candles. But it is evident that such a complete equipment of saints could not have been suddenly, nor even rapidly constituted. It must have been the growth of years and of generations; and moreover, we must remember that there was a time, at the beginning of the Christian era, when, though sins were very many, saints were very few, and until the large additions made to the noble army of martyrs in the reign of Diocletian, there could not possibly have been saints enough to go round; and if we go further back, and recede from the penumbra of early A.D. to the outer darkness of B.C., we enter a benighted world in which there were no saints at all. The prospect appals! We might almost as well contemplate a world in which there were no barristers. The question presents itself, and presses upon us with irresistible force—What did our unhappy ancestors do in a world in which there were no saints? It is clear that patrons or protectors of some kind they must have had, for in pre-Christian, no more than in mediæval times, was there any conviction or knowledge of the operation of natural laws. How do we know this? We have it on unexceptionable authority. A contemporary writer, who is generally believed to have been inspired, asserts ‘He hath not dealt so with any nation, neither have the heathen any knowledge of his laws.’ Consequently, there was the same lack of any rule or governance in the happening of events. Everything went by chance, according as the devil or the saints were paying attention, or got the upper hand at the moment. But there were no saints. Hence it would appear that the devil must have had it all his own way, and that the affairs of men must have been uniformly and invariably unfortunate. But they were not, for man survived. He not only survived, but he prospered and flourished. He increased and multiplied exceedingly. Men organised themselves into great nations, built great cities, and were subject to mighty kings. Egypt, Nineveh, Babylon, Assyria, Persia, the Empire of India and the greater Empire of China, all attest that, long before there were saints to interest themselves in him, man succeeded, somehow or other, in antagonising the devil and getting the better of him. It is of the utmost interest and importance to discover how he did this, and what were the means that he employed; and this brings me to the middle of my song, and the second part of my paper. I am now done with Saints. It is clear that they were not as indispensable as they made themselves out; and—I say it with reluctance, but—I have grave doubts whether they did not lay claim, if not to powers they did not possess, at any rate to the exclusive possession of powers by no means peculiar to them. We know, indeed, that on one historical occasion, St Dunstan did seize the devil by the nose with a pair of tongs; and we are told, on less unimpeachable authority, but we are told, that St Nicholas kicked him on a place which is described as being near the spot where the tail joins on to the small of the back; but with these exceptions, though he was constantly outwitted, and indeed he appears to be a kind of Simple Simon, easily gulled by the most transparent device, and no more astute than the victims of the confidence trick—with these exceptions, I say, there are few, if any, records of personal encounters with the devil till we come down to Martin Luther; and Martin Luther was not a saint. He was never, I understand, canonised, and I am informed on good authority, in reply to inquiry made in the highest quarters, that any application to Rome for his canonisation would have little or no chance of success.

Still, whatever unaccountable prejudices may exist at Rome against the canonisation of this great and good man, I cannot see that we are any nearer a solution of the most important, and indeed vital question, What did men do for patrons before they had saints to fly to? This, gentlemen, is the great and epoch-making discovery that I have to announce to you on this memorable evening. This is the brilliant result of years of laborious research. This is the golden fruit of a lifetime of very insufficiently rewarded toil. Why should I repine that the paltry metal counters that I exhibited at the beginning of this address are so scarce and rare, when I have garnered so abundantly rewards so much more precious? What did men do for patronage and protection before they had saints to place themselves under? Why, this was what they did. Not to keep you in suspense any longer, I will at once reveal that they sought the protection of the Signs of the Zodiac and of the Planets; and as far as it is possible to judge, the protection they obtained therefrom was as ample, as efficient, and as abundant, as that of all the saints in the calendar.

Many centuries before a single saint had been canonised, the system of patronage by the heavenly bodies was completely organised—was, if I may so put it, in full swing; and all the Christian hagiology did was to adopt this system, ousting the heavenly bodies, and filling their places with saints. Long before St Louis, or St Andrew, or that successful commissary St George, was born or thought of, every nation and city of antiquity had its patron Sign. Every calling had its own patron Sign or Planet; every part of the body its patron Sign or Planet: and every illness had a double process of cure, being remediable not only by certain drugs, but according to the position and movement of the Planets among the Signs when the drugs were collected and when they were administered. The series of saints and the series of Signs present a complete parallel, and it is evident that in this as in other things Christianity took advantage of a pre-existing organisation and adapted it to its own uses. It took the institution of patronage by celestial personages, as it took the institution of periodical festivals; emptied them of their previous contents, and filled them with Christian matter, leaving the pagan form unaltered. Thus it took the great annual winter festival, and altered it arbitrarily to Christmas day, pretending that it is the anniversary of the birth of Christ, for which there is not one tittle of evidence; but it could not, or did not, alter the minor weekly festival which still has its name from the greatest of the Planets. In these cases the supersession was either complete or none at all, but in other matters, and especially in the matter of patronage and protection, the struggle was very prolonged, and for ages the two systems of patronage existed side by side; and alongside the priests, who were experts in advising as to the appropriate saint to invoke, were the astrologers, experts in advising the proper conjunction or disposition of the heavenly bodies to wait for before beginning any undertaking or altering any course of action, and also for the purpose of determining whether a course of action was or was not judicious, and calculated to be successful. Between the two sets of practitioners there was a natural jealousy. The Church forbad recourse being had to the aid of Astrology, and threatened excommunication to anyone who consulted the rival expert, just as at present the orthodox physician boycotts the homœopath. On the other hand the astrologer, who was often an infidel, often a Jew or an Arab, despised and ridiculed the pretensions of the saints. Whatever faith, or want of faith, either sect had in its own ministrations, neither was without an uneasy feeling that the other might, after all, have something in it. The astrologers were not above invoking the aid of the saints in their own personal difficulties, and the very Popes who issued bulls fulminating against Astrology and its practitioners, yet kept their own private astrologers, whom they consulted on the sly. In spite of their mutual antagonism, however, the two systems existed side by side for many centuries, and neither can boast of a complete triumph over the other. Astrology is dead, it is true, but in Protestant countries the invocation of saints perished long before its rival, and the influence of the heavenly bodies was consulted by very many who would have scorned to invoke a saint.

Very many days in the year had their patron saints, and those who are familiar with old chronicles know that the date of an event was never signalised by the day of the month, but always by the saint’s day that it fell upon, or, in the few cases in which the day had not been appropriated by some saint or other, the date was signalised as being on the eve of the day following, which was sure to have its patron saint, or the morrow of the previous day. Correspondingly, every day of the week had its patron Planet. The number seven was chosen for the days of the week, no doubt because in seven days the moon completes a quarter, and in 28 days completes its revolution. By a curious coincidence, the number of Planets known to the ancient world was also seven, and hence it was natural that to every Planet should be assigned one day in the week. By an easy transition, made at a time that I have not been able to identify, but that was certainly very early, the powers of the Planets and those of the gods became transferable, and with the powers the names, so that only three of the seven days of the week, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday, are known by the names of Planets, the remaining four being called after the corresponding gods.

As with days, so with other things. We have seen that to some saint or other every part of the body was apportioned; and similarly the body was carved up and portioned out among the Signs of the Zodiac, as we find in the chapter of Arnaldus de Villanova, De quolibet signo quod membrum in corpore respicit, and as is set forth in the first lecture in this book, so that it is clear that the heathen had as good a choice of celestial specialists as ever the Christians had.

Time fails me to carry out the parallel in further detail, but just as the patron Sign of England is St George, and the effigy of St George appears upon our coins, so the patron Sign of Syria was Aries, and the effigy of the Ram appears on Syrian coins. Similarly, Palmyra was under the patronage of Libra, and on the coins of Palmyra appears the Balance. Similarly, individuals had their patron Signs before ever they had their patron saints. The patron Sign of Augustus was Capricorn, of Pythodeia Queen of Pontus, the Balance. The custom continued well into mediæval times and into Christian countries, and King Stephen of England adopted and placed on his coins the patron Sign of Sagittarius.

CAMBRIDGE: PRINTED BY JOHN CLAY, M.A. AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS