s son to practise. He asks his friend to inquire
of the apothecaries what was the status of doctors, whether they were
allowed by the town council to hire houses for themselves and to live
freely without exactions, as at Tubingen and universities in the
South, or whether they were obliged to pay an annual fee to the town,
before they might serve mankind with their healing art.

The feeble-minded and half-witted are nowadays caught up into asylums,
for better care, and to ensure that their trouble dies with them. Of
old it was thought that God gave them some recompense for their
affliction by putting into their mouths truths and prophecies which
were hidden from the wise; and thus the village soothsayer or witch
often held a strong position in local politics. But it is surprising
to find the Cardinal of Sion, Schinner, a clever and experienced
diplomatist, writing in 1516, with complete seriousness: 'A Swiss
idiot, who prophesies many true things, has foretold that the French
will surfer a heavy blow next month'; as though the intelligence would
really be of value to his correspondent.

But the prophet's credit varied with his circumstances. Early in the
sixteenth century a Franciscan friar, naming himself Thomas of
Illyria, wandered about through Southern France, calling on men to
repent and rebuking the comfortable vices of the clergy. A wave of
serious thought spread with him, and all the accompaniments of a
religious revival, such as the twentieth century saw lately in Wales.
As the 'saintly man' set foot in villages and towns, games and
pleasures were suddenly abandoned, and the churches thronged to
overflowing. His words were gathered up, especially those with which
he wept over Guienne, that 'fair and delicious province, the Paradise
of the world', and foretold the coming of foes who should burn the
churches round Bordeaux while the townsmen looked on helplessly from
their walls. For a time he retired to a hermitage on a headland by
Arcachon, where miracles were quickly ascribed to him. An image of the
Virgin was washed ashore, to be the protectress of his chapel. His
prayers, and a cross drawn upon the sand, availed to rescue a ship
that was in peril on the sea. When English pirates had plundered his
shrine, the waves opened and swallowed them up. Later on he withdrew
to Rome, where he won the confidence of Clement VII, and he died at
Mentone. But his fame remained great in Guienne. Half a century
onward, durin