by Sax Rohmer
In gratitude for the services rendered by the exprofessor of Montpellier to its citizens, the town of Aix voted him, not only thanks, as in the modern fashion, but an annual pension, which was maintained until the end of his days. The artists of the district painted portraits of their saviour; the notable inhabitants offered him rich presents; and these he accepted only to distribute them among the widows and orphans.
The seal was set upon his fame in the following year, when the same pestilence which had ravaged Aix laid its deathly hold upon Lyons, and Michel Nostradamus once more left Salon in order to place his services at the disposal of the stricken.
Jean Antoine Sarrazin, a prominent member of the Faculty of Montpellier, together with other doctors of the district, had journeyed to Lyons with the object of ridding the country of the plague without assistance from outside. Jealous of the fame of Nostradamus, Sarrazin and his colleagues thought that now was their opportunity to establish for themselves a reputation at least as great as that of the doctor of Salon.
But factors beyond their control had to be reckoned with. If they possessed the devotion of Nostradamus, they lacked his scientific knowledge, although Sarrazin in particular was regarded by the chroniclers of Lyons and Montpellier as one of the most accomplished physicians of the period. Nostradamus, although by no means blind to his own abilities, was a very modest man; and he imparted to Sarrazin the observations which he had made at Aix, and advised his colleague to adopt a certain method, if he wished to stay the progress of the plague.
Sarrazin, however, paid no heed to the wise counsels of Nostradamus, and killed, or left to die, those whom he had told himself he would save. The Lyonnais sought out the Salon physician (who cured in secret, in order that he might not offend Sarrazin). They threw themselves at his feet and beseeched him not to abandon them.
He answered:
“I wish to succour you, but must proceed after my own fashion. I honour greatly,” he added, “the celebrated doctor, Antoine Sarrazin, my colleague, but as my methods differ from his, I desire that you choose him who shall remain. Shall it be I or Sarrazin?”
“Nostradamus!” cried the deputation. “Nostradamus, the preserver of Aix!”
A month later joy was seen in every face, for the devastating plague existed no longer, and Nostradamus, overwhelmed with honour and with presents, returned in triumph to Salon, escorted by the authorities of the town which his science and devotion had saved.
All this has been attested by the historians Astruc and Bouche, and by the Provençal chronicles.
IV. PUBLICATION OF THE “CENTURIES”
No great man is without enemies, and if we are to judge of Nostradamus’s greatness by the number of his foes and the venom of their onslaughts, then was he great indeed.
We know that about the middle of the sixteenth century alchemists and sorcerers often came to the stake, although astrologers were tolerated. Nostradamus, since early boyhood, had studied the planets, and by means of certain calculations based upon the teachings of the ancient astrological books had succeeded in predicting several events which duly came to pass.
But now Jean Antoine Sarrazin spread abroad the rumour that Nostradamus devoted himself to sorcery; whereupon, it is characteristic of the times and of the people, his once zealous partisans became his bitter opponents. Despite the almost daily cures which he affected, he was attacked upon the ground that he departed from the ordinary (and murderous) methods of the Faculty. Very soon the saviour of Aix and Lyons found himself shunned by all. The ignorant peasants made the sign of the cross and averted their eyes when they met him; for he was reputed to derive his powers from Satan!
Keenly affected by the cowardly betrayal of his old friends and colleagues, Nostradamus retired from the world. He communicated with no one, but passed his time in study; neither did he deign to take part in the fierce discussions which seethed concerning him. Some few men of spirit and understanding espoused his cause, and Nostradamus was content to leave his defence in the hands of these, and to posterity.
Respecting the nature of his studies at this time, the following quatrain from his first Century is of interest:
Etant assis, de nuit, secrète étude,
Seul reposé sur la selle d’airain,
Flambe exiguë sortant de solitude
Fait proférer que n’est à croire vain.
(Alone, on brazen tripod, when the night
My studies doth all secretly enfold,
From out the darkness dawneth astral light,
Revealing what Futurity doth hold.)
All the predictions of Nostradamus seem to have been made by night; for in a letter to Henri II he says:
“I address myself to one, not like unto the Kings of Persia, whom it was forbidden to approach, but unto a very prudent and wise Prince to whom I have consecrated my nocturnal and prophetic vigils.”
His famous Centuries, according to the “janus français,” he kept a long time before he would publish, estimating that the novelty of the matter would bring upon him infinite persecution. At last, however, on March I, 1555, the light of day shone upon his Centuries, dedicated to his son, César Nostradamus.
In his Histoire de Provence, César speaks of the dedication:
“The year after (i.e.. 1555) Michel Nostradamus dedicated to me, whilst I was yet in the cradle, and published the Centuries, which, rendering his name immortal, taught me to follow the path of virtue which had been traced out for him by his fathers.”
In the dedicatory epistle, which one only understands with great difficulty, Nostradamus tells his son how he attained to a knowledge of the future: “Thy late advent, César Nostradamus, my son, has made me give much time to nocturnal vigilance,” etc.
This is not very clear, as will be seen; but that which did him more harm was that he dared, in this epistle, to write that calculations alone do not suffice in predicting the future; that one must also be inspired, and possessed of a supernatural and prophetic gift which Providence accords only to certain privileged beings.
In his letter to Henri II, Nostradamus claims that he knows exactly at what epoch the events which he predicts shall come to pass, but that he fears to give utterance frankly to his thoughts on account of displeasing the many.
Note that this letter was written on June 27, 1558:
“A greater persecution shall befall the Christian Church than has ever been in Africa, and will last until the year 1792, when there will be a revision of centuries. Afterward will commence various reforms by the people, the dispersing of some obscure shadows, receiving a little of their pristine splendour, but not without great divisions and continual changes.”
“If we examine closely this prophecy,” says a French commentator, “we are astonished at the accuracy of the prediction of Nostradamus. In effect, did not this year commence with the Revision? Did not the year 1792 see the palace of the Tuileries, hitherto inhabited by the Kings, fall into the hands of the people? Was it not in 1792 that a monarch (Louis XVI) was thrown into prison by his own subjects? Was it not in 1792 that the ancient costumes were changed, and the title ‘ citoyen français’ was accorded to Schiller and to all those philosophers who in their writings had defended the principles of Liberty? Was it not in 1792 that the nobles and priests were slaughtered, even those of families respected for fifteen centuries? Lastly, was it not in 1792 that the National Convention abolished royalty, and this year that saw the commencement of the Republican era, the Republic reforming the calendar; the birth of the factions of the mountains and the plains; and was it not in 1792 that the terrible guillotine emerged bloody from the brain of Guillotin?”
The first selection of Centuries had an extraordinary success. Everybody wished to read the predictions, and everybody did read them. A revulsion of feeling took place. From all the corners of Provence, from all the French towns, and even from foreign countries, came those who would seek to learn the future from the seer of Salon. Nobles and commoners, men of learning, scoffers a
nd believers — everybody visited the ex-professor of Montpellier. Nostradamus, who detested these demonstrations, excited only by the insatiable curiosity of ignorant humanity, frequently gave no replies; or, if he replied at all, it was in terms so ambiguous, so obscure, that the majority of the interrogators understood nothing at all.
After the individual curiosity of townspeople came the less egotistical curiosity of the inhabitants of the countryside. Labourers, gardeners, housewives, went to consult Nostradamus — the diviner, the prophet, the man of God, as the greater number now chose to call him. Some asked him if the year would prove a rainy year; others whether the spring would be fine or whether there would be many storms; and a host of similar petty questions. Nostradamus, then, to rid himself of these troublesome visitors, composed a little book under the title of the Almanac of Nostradamus.
The predictions which he set forth in the Almanac proved so accurate that the work was no sooner published than the edition became exhausted; and such was the profit made by the printers that these decided to issue a new and enlarged edition of their own under the same title as that which had met with so great a success. The reason for ascribing this to Nostradamus was, of course, that they might reap a rich harvest; but, although based upon the original and genuine work, it now contained an enormous number of deliberate inaccuracies which the enemies of the seer were not slow to write about, for they afforded them an opportunity of attacking him with success.
Even some of his supporters, ignorant of the truth, began to waver, and he was named throughout the country a charlatan and a rogue. His denials availed him nothing, but the small circle of friends that re mained to him eagerly and with energy took up the fight on his behalf.
The poet, Jodelle, author of Cléopâtre Captive and of Didon le Sacrifiant, left his tragedies and his comedies and wrote among other things a Latin distich upon Nostradamus, towards whom he was fiercely antagonistic. It enjoyed great success:
Nostradamus cum falsa damns, nam fallere nostrum est;
Et cum falsa damns nil nisi Nostradamus.
As will be seen, there is considerable play upon the word damns, and it is consequently difficult to explain by direct translation; but the following may be taken as the jibe conveyed:
Nostradamus is made to speak:— “We give that which belongs to us when we give those things that are false; and when we give those things that are false we do nothing but give to ourselves that which belongs to us.”
The friends of Nostradamus lost no time in replying, which they did in these terms:
Vera damus cum verba damus quœ Nostradamus dat;
Sed cum nostra damus, nil nisi falsa damus.
This we may explain in the following manner:
The adversaries of Nostradamus speak: “We say that which is true when we give the words of Nostradamus; but when we give our own they are nothing but lies.”
V. THE COMMAND TO THE LOUVRE
Although the publication of his Centuries increased the number of his enemies, Nostradamus, on the other hand, added to his friends, and had the good fortune to attract to his side men of intelligence and reason. These defended him so well that they imposed silence upon calumny, and introduced with honour his name into the Court of France. Many reasonable men regarded Nostradamus as one of those privileged beings who appear from time to time by the will of Providence, in order that they may avert those calamities which otherwise would befall mankind; and highly-placed people reported to the King and Queen his work and devotion during the plagues at Aix and Lyons, and the new reputation he had gained by the composition of his Centuries.
According to the Princess de Clèves, Henri II had but a poor opinion of prophets and prophecies; for by her he is reported as saying:
“At one time I had a great curiosity as to the future; but so many of the things that were told me proved false that I am convinced it is impossible to foretell the truth. Some years ago a man came here (one Luc Gauric) who enjoyed a great reputation as an astrologer. Everybody went to see him; I went like the others, but without telling him who I was, taking with me M. de Guise and Descars. I gave precedence to my two companions, but the astrologer addressed me as if he regarded me as the master of the others. I thought perhaps he knew me; but then he told me something which proved that he was ignorant of my identity, in predicting that I should be killed in a duel.
“He then said to M. de Guise that he would be killed from behind, and to Descars that his head would be broken by a kick from a horse. M. de Guise was annoyed at this prediction, as if he had been accused of cowardice. Descars was not at all satisfied to find that his career would end through so miserable an accident. However, we quitted the astrologer, all three very annoyed with him. I do not know what happened to M. de Guise and to Descars, but there is not the slightest chance of my being killed in a duel. We have concluded peace with the King of Spain; had we not done so I doubt not that we should have fought, and that I should have challenged him as the King, my father, challenged Charles V.”
It will be readily understood that Henri II, in saying that there was not the slightest chance of his being killed in a duel, meant that, although he might have fought with the King of Spain in person, he could not, as sovereign, accept a challenge to single combat from one inferior in rank, although he himself might challenge whomsoever he pleased.
Henri and Catherine de Médicis, having heard, then, of the medical science and astrological knowledge of the celebrated physician of Salon, wrote to Claude de Savoie, Count de Tende, governor of Provence, with instructions to invite Nostradamus to visit the Court. The Count de Tende duly performed this mission, conveying the royal command to Salon. Nostradamus at once hastened to obey the summons, and, on July 14, 1556, the new prophet quitted Salon to present himself at Paris. The incidents connected with his arrival at the capital are curious, if without significance; but even regarded merely as coincidence, they are worth relating.
Nostradamus arrived before the walls of Paris on August 15, 1556. He himself regarded this as of happy augury, for the citizens were celebrating the Feast of Notre Dame. Entering the city, he dismounted at the first hotel he reached, and the name of this hostelry completed the coincidence, for it hung out the sign of St. Michel. Happening upon the occasion of his first journey to the French Court, Michel de Notre Dame may be forgiven if he regarded this combination of curious circumstances as significant of a happy culmination of his life’s work.
We will now read of the reception accorded to Nostradamus by the King and Queen, and by the Court at large.
It was with a light heart that the seer of Salon made his way towards the Louvre to be received by his most Christian Majesty. What thoughts must have pursued one another through his mind! Frequently he must have compared the virulent attacks made upon him by men of his profession, of no mean standard of intelligence, his erstwhile friends and companions, with the honour which he now was receiving from the highest in the land. Had these paid heed to the calumnies without giving ear to the truth concerning him, he must long since have suffered the penalty imposed upon all who were convicted of sorcery, and been burnt at the stake as a wizard. But he still lived, and, more, was about to be honoured by his sovereign. Nostradamus had triumphed, indeed.
Arriving at the Louvre, in the company of M. le Connétable, this high dignitary presented Nostradamus to the King and Queen. He was received with great kindness by the sovereign and his consort, both of whom heaped upon their guest presents innumerable. The Constable of France, during the sojourn of the famous doctor in the capital, had intended to lodge Nostradamus at his residence, but His Majesty commanded that he should be the guest of the Cardinal de Sens.
Whilst residing at the hotel of this prince of the Church — truly a singular host for one who, even now, was accused of communicating with the devil — Nostradamus suffered from a severe attack of gout, which detained him some ten or twelve days. The King showed great solicitude in the illness which had so suddenly attacked his eminent sub
ject, and daily sent to inquire as to his progress. He also sent him a further present, this time one hundred écus d’or in a purse of velvet.
“No sooner had he recovered from these violent pains,” says his son, César, “than he was invited to Blois to see the young princes of France, an invitation of which he readily availed himself. As to the honours, regal and magnificent presents, which he received at the hands of their Majesties, of princes, and of the high dignitaries of the Court, I would rather let them remain at the end of my pen than name them here.”
Presenting himself anew before their Majesties, he was asked to erect the horoscopes of the young princes, and in obedience to this desire he found it necessary to proceed warily, and made use of a diplomatic talent worthy of a Minister of the Crown. He did not speak at all of any dangers that the young princes would incur.
Interrogated by Henri and Catherine, his replies were wrapped up in generalities which “could compromise neither himself nor science,” and he contented himself with answering that the three princes would mount the throne. It is of interest at this point to recount briefly that which befell each of these princes.
The eldest son of Henri and Catherine of France, who, in 1558, had married Mary, Queen of Scots, succeeded his father in 1559, ascending the throne as François II. His reign, however, lasted but one year, and he was followed by his brother, Charles IX, whose accession took place in 1560 at the age of ten. His mother, Catherine de Médicis, was appointed Regent during his minority, and that bloody stain upon the fleur-de-lis, the Massacre of St. Bartholomew, occurred during his tenure of the reins of government. Remorse for this act hastened his death, which took place in 1574. Henri III succeeded to the throne, and his reign was marked by religious dissensions. Allied with Henri de Navarre against the League, he besieged Paris in the year 1589, and it was during these operations that he met his death at the hands of the assassin, a crazy friar named Jacques Clément.
