sulphate of
copper occurred in solution, and the copper could be precipitated from
it by plunging an iron bar into it. Basil Valentine recognized the
presence of this peculiar yellow metal and studied some of its
qualities. He does not seem to have been quite sure, however, whether
the phenomenon that he witnessed was not really a transmutation of the
iron into copper, as a consequence of the other chemicals present.

There are some observations on chemical physiology, and especially
with regard to respiration, in the book on antimony which show their
author to have anticipated the true explanation of the {67} theory of
respiration. He states that animals breathe, because the air is needed
to support their life, and that all the animals exhibit the phenomenon
of respiration. He even insists that the fishes, though living in
water, breathe air, and he adduces in support of this idea the fact
that whenever a river is entirely frozen the fishes die. The reason
for this being, according to this old-time physiologist, not that the
fishes are frozen to death, but that they are not able to obtain air
in the ice as they did in the water, and consequently perish.

There are many testimonies to the practical character of all his
knowledge and his desire to apply it for the benefit of humanity. The
old monk could not repress the expression of his impatience with
physicians who gave to patients for diseases of which they knew
little, remedies of which they knew less. For him it was an
unpardonable sin for a physician not to have faithfully studied the
various mixtures that he prescribed for his patients, and not to know
not only their appearance and taste and effect, but also the limits of
their application. Considering that at the present time it is a
frequent source of complaint that physicians often prescribe remedies
with whose physical appearances they are not familiar, this complaint
of the old-time chemist alchemist will be all the more interesting for
the modern physician. It is evident that when Basil Valentine allows
his ire to get the better of him it is because of his indignation over
the {68} quacks who were abusing medicine and patients in his time, as
they have ever since. There is a curious bit of aspersion on mere
book-learning in the passage that has a distinctly modern ring, and
one feels the truth of Russell Lowell's expression that to read a
great genius, no matter how antique, is like reading a commentary in