all. It could not be rendered into English
verse. That's the reason I have translated it,
word for word, to make it as plain as I might—
as also," adds the worthy doctor, with
commendable forethought, "because the reader,
if curious of it, may benefit himself in the
knowledge of the French tongue."

After which, should the student commence,
at a Paris conversazione, with the following, it
would no doubt create considerable sensation:

        Entre plusieurs aux Isles deportez,
        L'un estre nay a dens en la gorge,

which (the translator adds) "is so plain that
it needeth no explication."Nay, doctor, but
it doth.

In spite of an occasional ill-natured remark
such as has been adduced, Michael Nostradamus
seems to have enjoyed the rare good
fortune, as a seer, to be very much believed in—
to have escaped those fluctuations of popularity
which attend upon the prophet who has
foreseen too much, and to have died before the
great bulk of his prognostications were submitted
to the test of time.

Born at St. Remy, Provence, on the fourteenth
of December, fifteen hundred and three, he was
educated at Avignon, and, at the age of twenty-
two, commenced medical practice at Narbonue.
From thence, at twenty-six, he repaired to
Montpelier—then, and still, the best school of
medicine in Europe—where he took his degrees
with high credit, and thence proceeded to Agen,
where the two noteworthy events of his life
were, that he married "an honourable
gentlewoman," and became the intimate friend of
Julius Cæsar Scaliger. Death deprived him of
the former, and a quarrel of the latter; whereupon
he went to Aix, just in time to meet the
plague, which, "as you may read in my Lord
of Lannay's book" (published about three
centuries since), raged there with great violence
for three years, during all which time our
physician was entertained there at the city's
charges.

From hence he proceeded to Salon de Craux,
a few leagues from Aix, and there married, in
second nuptials, Anne Ponce Genelle, by whom
he had three sons and one daughter.

Our doctor having found by experience that
the perfect knowledge of physic dependeth from
that of astrology—a maxim too often forgotten
by the faculty of our own day—he addicted
himself to it, and, as this science wanteth no
allurement, progressed mightily, insomuch that,
making some almanacks for recreation's sake,
he did so admirably hit the conjuncture of
events, that he was sought for far and near.

Upon almanacks—those stepping-stones
between physic and the stars—Francis Moore and
Michael Nostradamus, physicians, both climbed
to wealth and fame. But here occurred the sole
reaction in the tide of the latter's success. He
had been too correct. A cloud of false prophets
appeared, speaking, it is lamentable to add,
under no higher inspiration than that of printers
and booksellers, who "did print and vend
abundance of false almanacks under his name,
for lucre sake."

Hence it came that that very ill-conditioned
nobleman, my Lord Pavillon, wrote against him,
and that the poet Jodelle, angry, no doubt, that
almanacks sold better than satire, penned a
bitter distichon, which was so pleasing to the
wits of those times, that it may be hardly acceptable
to our own.

Our sage quickly worked through this passing
cloud, and could afford to bite the thumb of
scorn at such persons as my Lord Pavillon and
Jodelle. He was greatly esteemed by the
grandees, and much favoured by that estimable
lady, Catherine de' Medici, who had a natural
inclination to know future things, and made but
an indifferent use of the information she
obtained.

Henry the Second of France sent for him to
Paris, and held private conference with him on
things of great concernment. While there, he
was taken with the gout for ten or twelve
days; after which, the king sent him one
hundred crowns in gold, in a velvet purse, and the
queen as much, desiring him to go to Blois,
and visit the princes, their three children, with
a view to ascertain their future. It is more
than probable that, considering the tragical end
of all three (Francis the Second, Charles the
Ninth, and Henry the Third), the worthy doctor
on this occasion wore his mantle of prophecy,
with a difference.

After this he returned to Salon, and there
completed his unfinished centuries. These he
dedicated to the king, discovering to him in his
"luminary epistle" the events that were to
happen from the birth of Louis the Fourteenth,
until the coming of Antichrist.

The sage's life was now drawing to a conclusion;
but, before recording the final scene, it
may not be amiss, writes M. Garencières, to give
some recreation to the reader by relating a
merry passage that happened to Nostradamus
in Lorrain, while staying with the Lord of
Florinville, and having in cure the said lord
his mother.

"There were two little pigs—one white,
t'other black; whereupon my lord inquired,
in jest, 'What shall become of these two pigs?'
Who answered, presently, 'We shall eat the
black, and a wolf shall eat the white.'

"The Lord of Florinville, thereupon, did
secretly command the cook to dress the white,
who did so, and spitted it ready for rosting,
when it should be time. In the mean time,
having business without the kitchen, a young
tame wolf came in, and ate up the white pig.
The cook, then, fearing lest his master should
be angry, drest the black pig, and offered it at
supper. Then the lord, thinking he had the
victory, said to Nostradamus, 'Well, sir, we
are eating now the white pig, and no wolf shall
touch it.' 'I do not believe it,' saith Nostradamus.
'It is the black one that is upon the
table.' Presently, the cook was sent for, who
confessed the accident, the relation of which
was as pleasing to them as any meat." There