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 JUSTIFICATION
IN LATE MEDIEVAL
PREACHING
 STUDIES
IN MEDIEVAL AND
REFORMATION THOUGHT
EDITED BY

HEIKO A. OBERMAN, Tucson, Arizona

IN COOPERATION WITH

THOMAS A. BRADY, Jr., Eugene, Oregon

E. JANE DEMPSEY DOUGLASS, Princeton, New Jersey
PIERRE FRAENKEL, Geneva
GUILLAUME H.M. POSTHUMUS MEYJES, Leiden
DAVID C. STEINMETZ, Durham, North Carolina
ANTON G. WEILER, Nijmegen

VOLUME I

E. JANE DEMPSEY DOUGLASS

JUSTIFICATION IN LATE MEDIEVAL PREACHING
 JUSTIFICATION
IN LATE MEDIEVAL
PREACHING
A STUDY OF JOHN GEILER OF KEISERSBERG

BY

E. JANE DEMPSEY DOUGLASS

Second Edition

E.J. BRILL
LEIDEN • NEW YORK • K0BENHA VN • KOLN
1989
 First Edition 1966

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Douglass, Jane Dempsey.

Justification in late medieval preaching: a study of John Geiler
of Keisersberg I by Jane Dempsey Douglass.
p. cm.-(Studies in medieval and Reformation thought, ISSN
0585-6914; v. 1)
Reprint, with new pref. Originally published: Justification in
late medieval preaching I by E. Jane Dempsey Douglass, Leiden: E. J.
Brill, 1966.
Bibliography: p.
Includes index.
ISBN 90-04-0904 7 -9
1. Justification-History of doctrines-Middle Ages, 600-1500.
2. Geiler von Kaysersberg, Johann, 1445-1510. 3. Preaching-France-
Strasbourg-History. 4. Strasbourg (France)-Church history.
5. Sermons, German-History and criticism. I. Title. II. Series.
BT764.2.D68 1989
234'.7'0924-dc19 88-37172
CIP

ISSN 0585-6914
ISBN 90 04 09047 9

Copyright r966/ r989 by E. ]. Brill, Leiden, Netherlands

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced
or translated in any form, by print, photoprint, microfilm or
any other means without written permission from the publisher
PRINTED IN THE NETHERLANDS
 TABLE OF CONTENTS
Preface . . . . . IX
Preface to the second impression x

I. GEILER AND LATE MEDIEVAL PREACHING 1

The Later Middle Ages 1
N ominalism restudied 1
Late medieval preaching 2
Methodological problems 3
The Choice of Geiler for Intensi'Ve Study . 4
A renowned preacher of unusually wide influence 5
A doctor in theology . . . . . . . 6
In the main stream of intellectual life 6
Forerunner of the Reformation? 8
Geiler and the Roman Index . . . 10
Geiler' s alleged errors . . . . . . 14
Rich collection of source materials . 18
The Present Status of Geiler Scholarship 19
Biographical treatments . . . . . . 19
The works of Geiler . . . . . . 20
Sources for the Discussion of Geiler's Theology 29
The Nature of Geiler's Sermons 30
Sources of Geiler's Thought . . 37
A diversity of sources . . . . 37
The Ship of Penance: Holkot . 38
Gerson . . . . . 40
Geiler as a Nominalist 42

II. FAITH AND REASON • 45

Natural Reason and the fides quae 45
Faith and Superstition . . 57
"Irrational" Faith: Islam 61
Implicit and Explicit Faith 66
Conclusion . . . . . . 69
VI TABLE OF CONTENTS

Page
III. THE AUTHORITY FOR FAITH: SCRIPTURE AND CHURCH 70

The Authority for Interpreting Scripture . 75

No private interpretation . 75
The office of the doctor . 79
The Authority of the Preached Word 82
The preacher's role 82
Word and sacrament . 86
The Authority of the Hierarchy 92
Pope and councils . 92
Increasing corruption in the Church 94
The authority of an evil clergy 97
The Authority of Theological Tradition 100
The trial of John of W esel 100
Protests of Geiler and Engelin over ~onduct of the
trial . 101
The position of Wimpfeling 103
A catholic vision 104

IV. NATURAL MAN AND THE GRACE OF GoD 106

The Nature of Man 106
Man in paradise . 106
The effect of original sin 106
Man's purely natural capacities since the fall 112
Grace and the Sacraments 118
Cooperation of the free will with grace 118
Definitions of grace 119
The question of infused moral virtues 120
Two-fold efficacy of the sacraments 125
Predestination 126

v. JUSTIFICATION 129
Interpretations of the Nominalistic Position . 129
The Augustinian and Protestant view 129
Roman Catholic interpretations 129
 TABLE OF CONTENTS VII

Page

Geiler's View of the Christian Life 134

A life of penance 134
Obedience to the law 136
Conformity of the will 137
Disposition for Grace . 139
The necessity for disposition 139
Doing what is within one's power . 141
Loving God above everything else 145
Prayer as disposition . . . . 147
The Sacrament of Penance . . 147
The meaning of forgiveness 147
Contrition . 148
Confession . . . . . . . 153
Satisfaction . . . . . . . 156
The effect of the sacrament 160
Conclusion . . . . . . . . 160

VI. HUMAN MERIT CORAM DEO. 162

The Mercy of God 162

Facere qttod in se est . 163
Gratis deo servire . . 165
Self-humiliation . . 166
The Justice of God As Warning against Presumption 172
The Impossibility of Certainty of Salvation 176
Geiler and the Preaching Tradition 176

VII. CoMMUNIO MERITORUM 179

The Work of Christ . . 179

The Passion as example 180
The Passion as satisfaction for sin 182
A controversial Holy Week sermon 185
The nature of the Incarnation . . . 186
Christ's presence in the Eucharist . 187
The Mediation of the Virgin Mary and the Saints 189
Invocation of the saints . . . . . . . . . . 189
VIII TABLE OF CONTENTS

Page

The role of the Virgin Mary . 190

Menot's mariology . . . . . 195
Joseph's special place of honor 196
Indulgences 201
Communio meritorum and Imitation Piety 204

VIII. CONCLUSION: A FIFTEENTH-CENTURY REFORMER . 205

Late Medieval Theology . 205
Early German Humanism 206
The Reformation . . . 207

APPENDIX. WoRKS OF GEILER 209

Abbreviations 219
Bibliography . 222
Index . . . . 235
 PREFACE

In the present age of ecumenical rapprochement, both Protestant

and Roman Catholic historians are exploring anew the reasons for
the sixteenth-century Reformation. It is clear that we must become
much more familiar with the late medieval theological situation out
of which the Reformation grew if our explorations are to be truly
fruitful.
This investigation of Geiler of Keisersberg was undertaken to
provide one more of the many studies necessary to fill out our
knowledge of theology in the period just prior to the outbreak of the
Reformation. It is the great advantage of any contemporary writer to
be freed from the polemical atmosphere in which so many previous
students of Geiler felt obliged to defend his "catholicism" or his
"protestantism," defining those categories largely in post-T rentine
terms. I have tried rather to place Geiler within the wide spectrum
of theological positions current in the late fifteenth and early sixteenth
centuries.
I am indebted to many for assistance in carrying through this
research project. It was Prof. Heiko A. Oberman of the Harvard
Divinity School who introduced me to the world of fifteenth-century
theology, encouraged me to pursue my interest in a study of Geiler,
and offered frank and helpful criticism as I prepared the dissertation
from which this book has grown. His wife, Mrs. Geertruida Ober-
man-Reesink, taught me many of the non-academic skills so necessary
to finishing a book while also meeting the responsibilities of a family
and teaching.
The School of Theology at Claremont has been generous with
research and publication assistance. Mr. James Goulding, doctoral
candidate in Church History at the Claremont Graduate School, has
patiently assisted in reading proof and has prepared the index.
Most of the works of Geiler were available to me at the Houghton
Library for rare books at Harvard University. The Harvard Divinity
School Library was unusually helpful in obtaining needed sources.
Other libraries which must be especially mentioned for their as-
sistance are the Widener Library at Harvard University, the libraries
of the School of Theology at Claremont, Yale University, Princeton
University, Princeton Theological Seminary, Alma College at Los
Gatos, California. Research in Strasbourg was greatly facilitated by
x PREFACE

the interest and helpfulness of the staffs of the Bibliotheque Nationale

et Universitaire, the Archives Municipales de la Ville de Strasbourg,
and the Serninaire Protestant.
Above all I am indebted to my husband for his continual encourage-
ment and the genuinely warm welcome which he has given to Geiler
during his sojourn in our household, despite the inconveniences
which such a demanding guest can create. We hope that one day our
young son will be amused by our tales of his own involvement in the
completion of this study.

May, 1966 E. JANE DEMPSEY DOUGLASS

Claremont, California

PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION

Since the original publication of this study in i966, our knowledge

of late fifteenth and early sixteenth-century Strasbourg has been vastly
enriched. The work of F. Rapp 1, Miriam Chrisman2, Thomas Brady3,
and Lorna Jane Abray4 should be especially noted.
But despite this impressive resurgence of interest in early modern
Strasbourg, little has been published which focuses directly on the
aspects of the thought of John Geiler of Keisersberg treated in this
studyS, demanding revision of the view of Geiler presented here.
Therefore this book is simply being reprinted. I should like to call the
reader's attention, however, to three especially relevant recent publi-
cations.

1 F. Rapp, Riformes et riformation aStrasbourg: Eglise et societi dans le diocese de Strasbourg ( 1410-
1121 ), Collection de l'Institut des hautes Etudes Alsaciennes XXIII (Paris: Editions Ophrys, n.d.
[ 1974]).
2 Miriam Usher Chrisman, Strasbourg and the Reform: A Stuefy in the Process of Change (New

Haven: Yale University Press, 1967); Lay Culture, Learned Culture: Books and Social Change in
Strasbourg, 1480-1199 (New Haven,-Yale University Press, 1982); Bibliography of Strasbourg Im-
prints, 1480-1199 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1982).
3 Thomas A. Brady, Ruling Class, Regime and Reformation at Strasbourg, 1120-lf!J (Leiden: E.J.
Brill, 1978).
4 Lorna Jane Abray, The People's Reformation: Magistrates, Clergy, and Commons in Strasbourg,

1100-1J98 (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, i98i).

s A doctoral dissertation by Georges J. Herzog, Mystical Theology in Late Medieval Preaching:
Johann Geiler von Kaysersberg (144J-1110) (Boston University, i98)), announces a topic barely
touched in this study. Unfortunately the dissertation has not yet been released for circulation
through University Microfilms International.
 PREFACE XI

First, the careful study by Herbert Kraume 6 will be most helpful to

those interested in pursuing the relation of Geiler to the reception and
transmission of the writings of Gerson in German.
Second, Dacheux's nineteenth-century edition of Geiler's earliest
writings has reappeared in a photographically reprinted edition. 7
Third, one of the valuable texts cited here in an early printed edi-
tion, the Lucubraciunculae of Peter Schott, is now available in a modern
edition.s
An older study previously overlooked provides an indication of a
fifteenth-century sermon contrasting the ship of fools with the ship of
penance which may be an additional link between Holkot and Brant in
the transmission of this tradition which Geiler has taken up.9
I am grateful for the thoughtful responses to the first edition which
have been received and hopeful that the recent interest in Geiler's
Strasbourg will be sustained and productive of fresh insight.

Princeton Theological Seminary JANE DEMPSEY DOUGLASS

Princeton, New Jersey
Advent 1988

6 Herbert Kraume, Die Gerson-Obersetzungen Geilers VOii Kaysersberg: Studien zur deutschsprachigen

Gerson-Rezeption, Miinchener Texte und Untersuchungen zur deutschen Literatur des Mittelalters
71 (Munich: Artemis Verlag, 1980).
7 L. Dacheux, Die Aeltesten Schriften Geilers von Kt!Jsersberg (Amsterdam: Editions Rodopi,
196i; reprint of Freiburg im Breisgau, 1882).
8 The Works of Peter Schott ( 1460-1490), ed. Murray A. and Marian Cowie, University of North

Carolina Studies in Germanic Languages and Literatures 41 (Chapel Hill: University of North
Carolina Press, n.d. [1963]), I: Introduction and Text.
9 Edwin H. Zeydel, The Ship of Fools By Sebastian Brant (N.Y.: Columbia University Press,

1944), pp. 13-14.

 CHAPTER ONE

GEILER AND LATE MEDIEVAL PREACHING

THE LATER MIDDLE AGES

Nominalism restudied.-A recent revival of interest in the theology

of the later middle ages on the part of both Roman Catholic and
Protestant scholars has made this period a most attractive one for
research. Though the older stereotypes of the "barrenness" and
"sterility" of late scholastic theology have been shown to be no
longer tenable, the task of reconstituting our image of the period
remains formidable.
Late medieval nominalism in particular has received considerable
attention in the last three decades for several reasons. In the first place
its dominant role in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries justifies its
careful analysis as an intellectual movement of major proportions.
Though attention traditionally has been concentrated on the move-
ment as a purely philosophical one, today the place of the nomiaalists
in the history of theology is also receiving increased recognition. 1
Second, scholars of the Franciscan Order have undertaken serious
study of the Occamist tradition and endeavored to show its essential
orthodoxy. 2 Third, Luther scholars have become increasingly aware
of the need to understand the nominalistic theology in which Luther
was trained. s
In the effort to reconstruct the shape of the nominalistic tradition
and to trace its influence on the thought of the later middle ages, we
have been somewhat limited by the fact that nearly all the works
available from men known to be nominalists are academic works
such as commentaries on Lombard's Sentences, theological treatises,

1 Paul Vignaux, Justification et predestination au X/Ve siecle (Paris, 1934); idem,

arts. "Nominalisme," DTC, XI, pt. 1 (1931), cols. 717-784, "Occam," ibid., cols.
864-899; H. A. Oberman, "Some Notes on the Theology of Nominalism," HT R
53 (1960), pp. 47 ff.; idem, The Harvest of Medieval Theology, Gabriel Biel and Late
Medieval Nominalism (Cambridge, Mass., 1963).
2 P. Boehner, Occam: Philosophical Writings (Edinburgh, 1957); idem, Collected

Articles on Ockham, ed. E. Buytaert (St. Bonaventure, 1958); G. Buescher, The

Eucharistic Teaching of Wm. of Ockham (Washington, 1950).
3 Bengt Hagglund, Theologie und Philosophie bei Luther und in der occamistischen

Tradition (Lund, 1955); Leif Grane, Contra Gabrielem (Gyldendal, 1962).

 2 GEILER AND LATE MEDIEVAL PREACHING

lectures on the mass. Only from John Gerson and Gabriel Biel is
there any considerable body of sermons preached to the people as
well as to clerics. And yet it is of great importance to understand
the influence of nominalistic pulpit-theology as well as that of the
classroom. In fact significant questions in the area of Reformation
scholarship demand exact knowledge of the nature of the theology
actually being preached to the people by learned doctors of the Church
as well as by indulgence sellers.
Our use of the term "nominalistic theology" requires some clarifi-
cation. It has become increasingly clear that we must be alert to differ-
enc.es in theological position among the nominalists. A preliminary
attempt has already been made to distinguish several schools within
nominalism. 1 Without overlooking the need to explore further this
problem of classification, we find it useful in this study to use the
term "nominalist" to refer to the dominant position, that of Occam
and Biel.

Late medieval preaching.-In the light of all these considerations, we

propose to explore the lively preaching tradition of the late fifteenth
and early sixteenth centuries. Though the existence and significance
of such a tradition in the later middle ages have been well documented
by nineteenth- and twentieth-century scholars, 2 none of these scholars
has been in a position to study the corpus of pulpit literature from

See Oberman, "Some Notes on the Theology of Nominalism," pp. 51-56.

1

Chr. Fr. von Ammon, Geschichte der Homiletik (Gottingen, 1804), vol. I;
2

W. Wackernagel, Altdeutsche Predigten und Gebete aus Handschriften (Basel, 1876);

R. Cruel, Geschichte der deutschen Predigt im Mittelalter (Detmold, 1879); P. Keppler,
"Zur Passionspredigt des Mittelalters," H]B 3 (1882), pp. 285-315; 4 (1883), pp.
161-188; Kerker, "Die Predigt in der letzten Zeit des Mittelalters mit besonderer
Beziehung auf das stidwestliche Deutschland," TQS 43 (1861), pp. 373-410; idem,
"Zur Geschichte des Predigtwesens in der letzten Halfte des XV. Jahrhunderts",
TQS 44 (1862), pp. 267-301; A. Linsenmayer, Geschichte der Predigt in Deutsch/and
(Mtinchen, 1886); A. Lecoy de la Marche, La chaire franfaise au moyen age (Paris,
1886); F. Albert, Die Geschichte der Predigt in Deutsch/and bis f-,uther (Gtitersloh,
1892-6), 3 vols.; J. M. Neale, Medieval Preachers and Medieval Preaching (London,
1856); Pfander, The Popular Sermon of the Medieval Friar in England (New York,
1937); G. R. Owst, Literature and Pulpit in Medieval England (Cambridge, 1933);
idem, Preaching in Medieval England (Cambridge, 1926); Florenz Landmann, Das
Predigtwesen in Westjalen in der !etzten Zeit des Mittelalters (Munster, 1900); R. Petry,
No Uncertain Sound (Phila., 1948); Y. Brilioth, Predikans Historica (Lund, 1945);
E. Lengwiler, Die vorreformatorischen Priidikaturen der deutschen Schweiz (Freiburg,
1955).
For sermon structure see: T. Charland, Artes praedicandi. . . (Ottawa, 1936);
D. Roth, Die mittelalterliche Predigttheorie und das Manuale Curatorum des]. U. Surgant
(Basel, 1956); E. Gilson, "Michel Menot et la technique du sermon medieval,"
 THE LATER MIDDLE AGES 3

the standpoint of contemporary research into nominalistic theology.

As we shall demonstrate below, certain of the most famous preachers
of the period, such as Geller of Keisersberg and Michael Menot, now
appear to stand in the theological line of Occam and Biel.

Methodological problems.-Several methodological problems encoun-

tered in the analysis of late medieval sermons must be pointed out.
(1) Very few critical editions exist; and where these are lacking,
the question of textual authenticity must be raised. Sermons were
normally delivered in the vernacular, then translated into Latin for
publication. An effort must therefore be made to determine the history
of the text, to evaluate the extent to which editors or translators may
have influenced the content of the sermon as we possess it. 1
(2) In reading the secondary literature, one becomes extremely
conscious of confessional bias. Books and articles are regularly written
and evaluated in the light of the writer's own theological loyalty.
This is clearly a period where both Protestants and Roman Catholics
have a vested interest in the results of research.
(3) We lack a broad picture of theological teaching in the period.
Some monographic literature has been published on particular figures,
notably the German mystics and those who have been claimed as
"pre-reformers", studies usually asking different questions than ours.
As a result our information is fragmentary. Furthermore we know
little about the lines separating the major schools and currents of
thought in this period. Some light has been shed on the nature of
nominalism at that time. But until we understand better the nature of
contemporary Augustinian, Dominican and Franciscan schools of
thought, we are in no position to draw clear contrasts or parallels.
(4) Much of the modern discussion of theologians of this period
involves the question of their "orthodoxy." Unfortunately the criteria
by which we can determine orthodoxy in the later middle ages are by
no means clear. Though Roman Catholics are inclined to judge this
matter by the canons of the Council of Trent, this procedure hardly
seems defensible.

RHF 2. 3 (1925), pp. 301-60. See also bibliography appended to Petry, No Un-
certain Sound.
1 For similar problems in dealing with medieval Jewish sermons, see Israel

Bettan, Studies in Jewish Preaching: Middle Ages (Cincinnati, 1939), pp. 56-7. My
colleague, Prof. Loren R. Fisher, has called this book to my attention.
 4 GEILER AND LATE MEDIEVAL PREACHING

(5) Wide circulation of commonly-used collections of sermons and

sermon illustrations makes it essential that a preacher's work be
studied in sufficient depth to distinguish traditional material from the
man's own theological position. An illustration of the difficulty is
provided by a recent article dealing with preaching in Germany in
the late middle ages. 1 The author has studied sermons on the parable
of the Pharisee and the publican, and he calls attention to a common
catena of quotations concerning the insufficiency of men's works taken
from Scripture, Augustine, Gregory the Great, and Bernard which
are regularly introduced in support of the posture of the repentent
Publican. From this evidence he mistakenly concludes that this was
teaching characteristic of the Augustinian friars prior to Luther,
merely reflected in Luther's thought. The author has not noted that
preachers who are at least semi-Pelagian in their theology can also
quote such a catena in a context like that under discussion. His docu-
mentation is therefore unconvincing.
(6) We must keep in mind that an analysis of sermons may prove
to be less revealing of the theologian's own position than a study of
his more academic writings, and we seldom have the opportunity to
compare the two aspects of a man's work as we do with Biel and
Gerson, for example. Pastoral concerns certainly influenced the form
of doctrinal presentations, 2 though we have as yet no evidence that it
greatly altered the content. But we are warned of this possibility when
Geiler comments concerning man's freedom to turn to God without
special action on God's part that the view of Biel and Scotus seems
more prudent than that of Thomas and Gregory of Rimini for preach-
ing to the people, for it removes any occasion for their blaming God
when they fail to receive grace. 3

THE CHOICE OF GEILER FOR INTENSIVE STUDY

In consideration of these difficulties in interpreting sermonic liter-

ature, it seems useful to open up such an area of research by making
a study of the very central doctrine of justification in the sermons of

1 A. Zumkeller, "Das Ungeniigen der menschlichen Werke bei den deutschen

Predigern des Spiitmittelalters," ZKT 81 (1959), pp. 265-305.

a Biel emphasizes that school disputes are not to be paraded before the laity to
offend their piety: III Sent. d 3 q 1 art. 1 nota 3. For Geiler, see p. 33 below.
3 (The opinion) " ... Scoti videtur mihi tutior ad predicandum populo: quia

per hoc aufertur eis excusationis occasio/ qua dicere possent/ quod gratiam non
consequimur/ est deus in culpa ... " Fruct. spir. 59rt.
 THE CHOICE OF GEILER FOR INTENSIVE STUDY 5

a major preacher of the period who was recognized in his own day
as a learned and orthodox theologian.
We propose to select for this purpose Dr. John Geiler of Keisers-
berg, preacher at the cathedral in Strassburg from 1478 till his death
in 1510. Five major arguments for this choice can be advanced.
(1) Geiler was a renowned preacher of unusual!J wide influence in his day.
Standard histories of German literature and culture as well as of the
Church deal with his personal impact and his writings. Many scholars
have claimed him to be the most significant preacher of his time. 1
Not only in Strassburg were his efforts to reform the life of society
at large and that of the monasteries and clerics felt. He was also
notably influential at Augsburg through his close association with
Bishop Friedrich von Zollern, 2 formerly his pupil and a canon of the
cathedral at Strassburg. There is also evidence of his influence at the
imperial court, since he was a chaplain to Maximilian. 3 In 1503 Geiler
was summoned to Fiessen for private consultations with the Emperor;
while there he also preached to the court on the need for peace and
justice. Geiler does not reveal the content of the private discussions,
explaining that he was asked to hol.d it under the seal of the confes-
sional. 4 The document which Geiler speaks of editing for Maximilian
as the result of their consultation has been identified by some as a
series of complaints against the Roman curia, 5 by others as a collection
of precepts for the conduct of a good prince. 6 Rhenanus, speaking

1 W. Stammler, Von der Mystik zum Barock (Stuttgart, 1927), p. 252. Cruel,

Predigt . .. , p. 538. Kerker, "Die Predigt. .. ," p. 271. J. Bolte, ed., Johannes Pauli,
Schimpf und Ernst (Berlin, 1924), I, p. *16.
2 L. Dacheux, Un Riformateur catholique a la fin du XVe siecle. Jean Geiler de

Kay.rersberg (Paris, 1876), pp. 362 ff. Cf. K. Stenzel, "Geiler von Keisersberg und
Friedrich von Zollern," ZGO 79, NS 40 (1926), pp. 61-113; A. Steichele, "Fried-
rich Graf von Zollern Bischof zu Augsburg und Johannes Geiler von Kaisers-
berg," AGBA 1 (1856), pp. 143-172. See Geiler's letters of counsel to the young
bishop in L. Dacheux, Die iiltesten Schriften Geilers von Kaysersberg (Freiburg i. Br.,
1882), pp. 79-94.
3 Dacheux, Jean Geiler . .. , pp. 496 ff.; Charles Schmidt, Histoire littiraire de

I' Alsace a la fin du XVe et au commencement du XVle siecle (Paris, 1879), I, pp. 368 ff.
4 See Geiler's letter to Wimpfeling from Fiessen in Dacheux, Jean Geiler . ..

p. 496 n. 2; idem, Die iiltesten Schriften .. . , pp. 102-4.

5 Schmidt, Hist. litt .. . , I, p. 370. He cites as evidence a letter from Maximilian

to Wimpfeling in 1510, preserved by Specklin. Though Specklin's Col/ectanea was

destroyed in 1870, this letter is published by Rodolphe Reuss, "Les Collectanees
de Daniel Specklin, architecte de la ville de Strasbourg," BSCMHA, 2d series,
14 (1889), p. 301.
8 Dacheux,]ean Geiler .. . , p. 497. Schmidt, Hist. litt ... , I, p. 370, also mentions

such a collection of precepts written soon after the discussions.

6 GEILER AND LATE MEDIEVAL PREACHING

of the particular warmth with which Maximilian regarded Geiler,

also refers to Geiler's compiling such a collection for the emperor. 1
Geiler's wide influence can to some extent be attributed to the fact
that Strassburg in his day was one of the first cities of the Empire.
There was already an impressive history of great preachers in the
city: Albert the Great, Meister Eckhardt, John Tauler. But in the
late fifteenth century, Strassburg experienced important economic
expansion and political solidification. The period of Strassburg's
greatness, which was to last into the mid-sixteenth century, had already
begun. 2 The thriving printing industry in Strassburg in this period is
particularly significant, since most of Geiler's sermons were printed
and widely circulated.
(2) As a doctor in theology, Geiler was well-trained in the scholastic
tradition. Before settling in Strassburg, he had been Dean of the
Faculty of Philosophy (1469-70), Dean of the Faculty of Arts (1474),
and lecturer on the Bible and Lombard's Sentences at the University
of Basel, where he received his doctorate in 1475. Returning to Frei-
burg in Breisgau, where he had received the bachelor's and master's
degrees, Geiler lectured in theology and served as Rector of the
University in 1476-77.a
(3) Geiler' s place in the main stream of the intellectual life of the dt.ry is
indicated by his remarkable circle of friends. 4 At Basel he studied
under the humanist teacher, Heynlin of Stein (Johannes a Lapide),
generally claimed by scholars as a realist, who had left Paris when the
via moderna regained its influence there. During these years he came

1 "Ob summam vero eruditiooem cum vite sanctimonia copulatam, ab invic-

tissimo Imperatore Cesare Maximiliano benevolentia haud vulgari dilectus est .

. . . Sacratissimo Cesare precepta quedam collegi t, ad que se rex componere
debeat ... " Vita Geileri, 152v2.
2 See F. Ford, Strasbourg in Transition: 1648-1789 (Cambridge, Mass., 1958),

pp. 4-20.
3 For the years in Freiburg and Basel, see Dacheux, Jean Geiler . .. , pp. 25 ff.;
Schmidt, Hist. litt... , I, pp. 338 ff.; P. de Lorenzi, Geilers von Kaisersberg ausge-
wiihlte Schriften (Trier, 1881), I, pp. 3 ff.; R. Newald, art. "Geiler von Kaisersberg,"
Die Deutrche Literamr des Mitte!alters: Verfasser!exikon, ed. W. Stammler (Berlin,
1936), II, cols. 8-14; H. Mayer, "Johannes Geiler von Kaysersberg hauptsachlich
in seinen Beziehungen zu Freiburg im Breisgau," Schau-ins-Land 23 (1896), pp.
1-17; documentation from university records in J. A. de Riegger, Amoenitates
literariae friburgenses (Ulm 177 5), I, pp. 58-63.
4 De Lorenzi, .. . Schriften, I. p. 5; A. Renaudet, Pririforme et Humanisme a

Paris pendant /es premieres guerre.r d' ltalie (1494-1517) (Paris, 1953), p. 94; Schmidt,
Hist. litt.. ., I, p. 360; F. Schmidt-Clausing, "Johann Ulrich Surgant, ein Weg-
weiser des jungen Zwingli," Zwingliana 11 (1961), pp. 287-320, esp. p. 314.
 THE CHOICE OF GEILER FOR INTENSIVE STUDY 7

to know well Sebastian Brant and Jacob Wimpfeling, early German

humanists who later through Geiler's influence gathered in Strassburg,
joined by Thomas Murner, Thomas Wulf, Ringman, Beatus Rhena-
nus, and Peter Schott. Also in the circle at Basel were Ulrich Surgant,
author of the well-known preaching manual, the Manuale curatorum,
and Christoph of Utenheim, 1 who was later for a time a canon in the
cathedral of Strassburg, then became bishop of Basel.
Gabriel Biel, though somewhat older, was a friend over the years;
it has been noted as particularly significant that Geiler, standing on
the threshold of the new era, should have been so closely bound in
friendship with the last of the great medieval scholastics. 2 Biel's
counsel played an important role in two turning points in Geiler's
life. As a young man, he was strongly dissuaded by Biel, Engeling of
Braunschweig, and the elder Peter Schott, Ammeister of Strassburg,
from undertaking the hermit's life and decided rather to accept the
post as preacher at Strassburg. 3 Years later, when the city of Basel
had invited him to take a similar responsibility as preacher there,
Geiler was seriously inclined to accept the new position, feeling that
he had not been greatly successful in Strassburg. Peter Schott, writing
Biel for his judgment on a number of points, asked his advice as to
whether Geiler should leave Strassburg. Biel firmly counseled him to
remain. 4 Through Schott's correspondence, we also have evidence
that Biel invited Geiler and Schott to attend the licentia of his brother. 5

1 Dacheux, Jean Geiler . .. , pp. 429ff.; Schmidt, Hist. litt .. ., I, p. 359.

2 M. Kerker, "Geiler ... und sein Verhaltniss zur Kirche," Historisch-politische
Blatter 49 (1862), p. 285; cf. ibid., 48 (1861), p. 638; Newald, Verfasserlexikon, col.
10. Wimpfeling, Vita I. K. 155r2: " ... Gabriel byel summus theologus: cuius
consilio (veluti sapientissimi patris) maxime nitebatur ... "
3 Otther writes concerning Geiler in his dedication of the Navicula penitentie:

"Adeoque vitam secretiorem amavit: ut secum tacite deliberans: Eremum ipsum

nisi a Gabriele buhel et Eggelingo prohibitus intrasset." Back of title page. See
Dacheux,Jean Geiler .. ., p. 512: the reference to the dedication of the Nav.fat.
is erroneous; Schmidt, Hist. litt .. ., I, p. 324; Wimpfeling, Vita I. K. 155r2:
Engeling is not mentioned here.
4 Biel writes to Schott: "Omnibus circumstanciis pensatis omnimodis iudico

expedire consulendumque fore ut in vocacione qua vocatus est maneat nee cedat
subtilibus sathanae instigacionibus qua sub specie boni fructum verbi dei satagit
impedire." Schott, Lucubraciunculae ornatissimae, ed. J. Wimpfeling (Strassburg,
1498), 145r. (Geiler collected Schott's letters for this edition published after
Schott's early death: see Geiler's letter to Reuchlin, Dacheux, Die altesten Schrif-
ten .. ., p. 100.) Cf. Dacheux,Jean Geiler .. ., p. 417 n. 1, 512 n. 2; Schmidt, Hist.
litt ... , I, p. 357. For Schott's own attempts to persuade Geiler to remain, see
Lucubr. SOr-81 v.
6 Lucubr. 85 v. See Dacheux, Jean Geiler . . ., p. 393 n. 2, 394, 407 n. 1.
Another random document with
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flickering flame, before an image of the Virgin. At sight of it she
repressed a sob.
“You see, my child,” said the Mother Superior poetically, “it must
have been waiting for you. Anyhow it is empty. Perhaps it may have
known you were coming.”
She spoke softly so that the long rows of sleepers might not be
disturbed, then proceeded to turn down the coverlets.
“Oh, Mother,” Madeleine suddenly whispered softly as she stood
by the bed, “won’t you let me stay always? I never want to go out
any more. I have had such a hard time. I will work so hard for you if
you will let me stay!”
The experienced Sister looked at her curiously. Never before had
she heard such a plea.
“Why, yes, my child,” she said. “If you wish to stay I’m sure it can
be arranged. It is not as we usually do, but you are not the only one
who has gone out in the past and come back to us. I am sure God
and the Blessed Virgin will hear your prayer for whatever is right. But
now go to bed and sleep. You need rest. I can see that. And to-
morrow, or any time, or never, as you choose, you may tell me what
has happened.”
She urged her very gently to enter and then tucked the covers
about her, laying finally a cool, wrinkled hand on her forehead. For
answer Madeleine seized and put it to her lips, holding it so.
“Oh, Mother,” she sobbed as the Sister bent over her, “don’t ever
make me go out in the world again, will you? You won’t, will you? I’m
so tired! I’m so tired!”
“No dear, no,” soothed the Sister, “not unless you wish it. And now
rest. You need never go out in the world again unless you wish.”
And withdrawing the hand from the kissing lips, she tiptoed silently
from the room.
 II
THE HAND

D AVIDSON could distinctly remember that it was between two

and three years after the grisly event in the Monte Orte range—
the sickening and yet deserved end of Mersereau, his quondam
partner and fellow adventurer—that anything to be identified with
Mersereau’s malice toward him, and with Mersereau’s probable
present existence in the spirit world, had appeared in his life.
He and Mersereau had worked long together as prospectors,
investors, developers of property. It was only after they had struck it
rich in the Klondike that Davidson had grown so much more apt and
shrewd in all commercial and financial matters, whereas Mersereau
had seemed to stand still—not to rise to the splendid opportunities
which then opened to him. Why, in some of those later deals it had
not been possible for Davidson even to introduce his old partner to
some of the moneyed men he had to deal with. Yet Mersereau had
insisted, as his right, if you please, on being “in on” everything—
everything!
Take that wonderful Monte Orte property, the cause of all the
subsequent horror. He, Davidson—not Mersereau—had discovered
or heard of the mine, and had carried it along, with old Besmer as a
tool or decoy—Besmer being the ostensible factor—until it was all
ready for him to take over and sell or develop. Then it was that
Mersereau, having been for so long his partner, demanded a full half
—a third, at least—on the ground that they had once agreed to work
together in all these things.
Think of it! And Mersereau growing duller and less useful and
more disagreeable day by day, and year by year! Indeed, toward the
last he had threatened to expose the trick by which jointly, seven
years before, they had possessed themselves of the Skyute Pass
Mine; to drive Davidson out of public and financial life, to have him
arrested and tried—along with himself, of course. Think of that!
But he had fixed him—yes, he had, damn him! He had trailed
Mersereau that night to old Besmer’s cabin on the Monte Orte, when
Besmer was away. Mersereau had gone there with the intention of
stealing the diagram of the new field, and had secured it, true
enough. A thief he was, damn him. Yet, just as he was making safely
away, as he thought, he, Davidson, had struck him cleanly over the
ear with that heavy rail-bolt fastened to the end of a walnut stick, and
the first blow had done for him.
Lord, how the bone above Mersereau’s ear had sounded when it
cracked! And how bloody one side of that bolt was! Mersereau
hadn’t had time to do anything before he was helpless. He hadn’t
died instantly, though, but had turned over and faced him, Davidson,
with that savage, scowling face of his and those blazing, animal
eyes.
Lying half propped up on his left elbow, Mersereau had reached
out toward him with that big, rough, bony right hand of his—the right
with which he always boasted of having done so much damage on
this, that, and the other occasion—had glared at him as much as to
say:
“Oh, if I could only reach you just for a moment before I go!”
Then it was that he, Davidson, had lifted the club again. Horrified
as he was, and yet determined that he must save his own life, he
had finished the task, dragging the body back to an old fissure
behind the cabin and covering it with branches, a great pile of pine
fronds, and as many as one hundred and fifty boulders, great and
small, and had left his victim. It was a sickening job and a sickening
sight, but it had to be.
Then, having finished, he had slipped dismally away, like a jackal,
thinking of that hand in the moonlight, held up so savagely, and that
look. Nothing might have come of that either, if he hadn’t been
inclined to brood on it so much, on the fierceness of it.
 No, nothing had happened. A year had passed, and if anything
had been going to turn up it surely would have by then. He,
Davidson, had gone first to New York, later to Chicago, to dispose of
the Monte Orte claim. Then, after two years, he had returned here to
Mississippi, where he was enjoying comparative peace. He was
looking after some sugar property which had once belonged to him,
and which he was now able to reclaim and put in charge of his sister
as a home against a rainy day. He had no other.
But that body back there! That hand uplifted in the moonlight—to
clutch him if it could! Those eyes.

II—June, 1905

Take that first year, for instance, when he had returned to

Gatchard in Mississippi, whence both he and Mersereau had
originally issued. After looking after his own property he had gone
out to a tumble-down estate of his uncle’s in Issaqueena County—a
leaky old slope-roofed house where, in a bedroom on the top floor,
he had had his first experience with the significance or reality of the
hand.
Yes, that was where first he had really seen it pictured in that
curious, unbelievable way; only who would believe that it was
Mersereau’s hand? They would say it was an accident, chance, rain
dropping down. But the hand had appeared on the ceiling of that
room just as sure as anything, after a heavy rain-storm—it was
almost a cyclone—when every chink in the old roof had seemed to
leak water.
During the night, after he had climbed to the room by way of those
dismal stairs with their great landing and small glass oil-lamp he
carried, and had sunk to rest, or tried to, in the heavy, wide, damp
bed, thinking, as he always did those days, of the Monte Orte and
Mersereau, the storm had come up. As he had listened to the wind
moaning outside he had heard first the scratch, scratch, scratch, of
some limb, no doubt, against the wall—sounding, or so it seemed in
his feverish unrest, like some one penning an indictment against him
with a worn, rusty pen.
 And then, the storm growing worse, and in a fit of irritation and
self-contempt at his own nervousness, he had gone to the window,
but just as lightning struck a branch of the tree nearest the window
and so very near him, too—as though some one, something, was
seeking to strike him—(Mersereau?) and as though he had been
lured by that scratching. God! He had retreated, feeling that it was
meant for him.
But that big, knotted hand painted on the ceiling by the dripping
water during the night! There it was, right over him when he awoke,
outlined or painted as if with wet, gray whitewash against the
wretched but normally pale-blue of the ceiling when dry. There it was
—a big, open hand just like Mersereau’s as he had held it up that
night—huge, knotted, rough, the fingers extended as if tense and
clutching. And, if you will believe it, near it was something that
looked like a pen—an old, long-handled pen—to match that scratch,
scratch, scratch!
“Huldah,” he had inquired of the old black mammy who entered in
the morning to bring him fresh water and throw open the shutters,
“what does that look like to you up there—that patch on the ceiling
where the rain came through?”
He wanted to reassure himself as to the character of the thing he
saw—that it might not be a creation of his own feverish imagination,
accentuated by the dismal character of this place.
“’Pears t’ me mo’ like a big han’ ’an anythin’ else, Marse Davi’son,”
commented Huldah, pausing and staring upward. “Mo’ like a big fist,
kinda. Dat air’s a new drip come las’ night, I reckon. Dis here ole
place ain’ gonna hang togethah much longah, less’n some repairin’
be done mighty quick now. Yassir, dat air’s a new drop, sho’s yo’
bo’n, en it come on’y las’ night. I hain’t never seed dat befo’.”
And then he had inquired, thinking of the fierceness of the storm:
“Huldah, do you have many such storms up this way?”
“Good gracious, Marse Davi’son, we hain’t seed no sech blow en
—en come three years now. I hain’t seed no sech lightnin’ en I doan’
know when.”
 Wasn’t that strange, that it should all come on the night, of all
nights, when he was there? And no such other storm in three years!
Huldah stared idly, always ready to go slow and rest, if possible,
whereas he had turned irritably. To be annoyed by ideas such as
this! To always be thinking of that Monte Orte affair! Why couldn’t he
forget it? Wasn’t it Mersereau’s own fault? He never would have
killed the man if he hadn’t been forced to it.
And to be haunted in this way, making mountains out of mole-hills,
as he thought then! It must be his own miserable fancy—and yet
Mersereau had looked so threateningly at him. That glance had
boded something; it was too terrible not to.
Davidson might not want to think of it, but how could he stop?
Mersereau might not be able to hurt him any more, at least not on
this earth; but still, couldn’t he? Didn’t the appearance of this hand
seem to indicate that he might? He was dead, of course. His body,
his skeleton, was under that pile of rocks and stones, some of them
as big as wash-tubs. Why worry over that, and after two years? And
still—
That hand on the ceiling!

III—December, 1905

Then, again, take that matter of meeting Pringle in Gatchard just at

that time, within the same week. It was due to Davidson’s sister. She
had invited Mr. and Mrs. Pringle in to meet him one evening, without
telling him that they were spiritualists and might discuss spiritualism.
Clairvoyance, Pringle called it, or seeing what can’t be seen with
material eyes, and clairaudience, or hearing what can’t be heard with
material ears, as well as materialization, or ghosts, and table-
rapping, and the like. Table-rapping—that damned tap-tapping that
he had been hearing ever since!
It was Pringle’s fault, really. Pringle had persisted in talking. He,
Davidson, wouldn’t have listened, except that he somehow became
fascinated by what Pringle said concerning what he had heard and
seen in his time. Mersereau must have been at the bottom of that,
too.
At any rate, after he had listened, he was sorry, for Pringle had
had time to fill his mind full of those awful facts or ideas which had
since harassed him so much—all that stuff about drunkards,
degenerates, and weak people generally being followed about by
vile, evil spirits and used to effect those spirits’ purposes or desires
in this world. Horrible!
Wasn’t it terrible? Pringle—big, mushy, creature that he was, sickly
and stagnant like a springless pool—insisted that he had even seen
clouds of these spirits about drunkards, degenerates, and the like, in
street-cars, on trains, and about vile corners at night. Once, he said,
he had seen just one evil spirit—think of that!—following a certain
man all the time, at his left elbow—a dark, evil, red-eyed thing, until
finally the man had been killed in a quarrel.
Pringle described their shapes, these spirits, as varied. They were
small, dark, irregular clouds, with red or green spots somewhere for
eyes, changing in form and becoming longish or round like a jellyfish,
or even like a misshapen cat or dog. They could take any form at will
—even that of a man.
Once, Pringle declared, he had seen as many as fifty about a
drunkard who was staggering down a street, all of them trying to
urge him into the nearest saloon, so that they might re-experience in
some vague way the sensation of drunkenness, which at some time
or other they themselves, having been drunkards in life, had
enjoyed!
It would be the same with a drug fiend, or indeed with any one of
weak or evil habits. They gathered about such an one like flies, their
red or green eyes glowing—attempting to get something from them,
perhaps, if nothing more than a little sense of their old earth-life.
The whole thing was so terrible and disturbing at the time,
particularly that idea of men being persuaded or influenced to
murder, that he, Davidson, could stand it no longer, and got up and
left. But in his room upstairs he meditated on it, standing before his
mirror. Suddenly—would he ever forget it—as he was taking off his
collar and tie, he had heard that queer tap, tap, tap, right on his
dressing-table or under it, and for the first time, which Pringle said,
ghosts made when table-rapping in answer to a call, or to give
warning of their presence.
Then something said to him, almost as clearly as if he heard it:
“This is me, Mersereau, come back at last to get you!
Pringle was just an excuse of mine to let you know I was
coming, and so was that hand in that old house, in
Issaqueena County. It was mine! I will be with you from
now on. Don’t think I will ever leave you!”
It had frightened and made him half sick, so wrought up was he.
For the first time he felt cold chills run up and down his spine—the
creeps. He felt as if some one were standing over him—Mersereau,
of course—only he could not see or hear a thing, just that faint tap at
first, growing louder a little later, and quite angry when he tried to
ignore it.
People did live, then, after they were dead, especially evil people
—people stronger than you, perhaps. They had the power to come
back, to haunt, to annoy you if they didn’t like anything you had done
to them. No doubt Mersereau was following him in the hope of
revenge, there in the spirit world, just outside this one, close at his
heels, like that evil spirit attending the other man whom Pringle had
described.

IV—February, 1906

Take that case of the hand impressed on the soft dough and
plaster of Paris, described in an article that he had picked up in the
dentist’s office out there in Pasadena—Mersereau’s very hand, so
far as he could judge. How about that for a coincidence, picking up
the magazine with that disturbing article about psychic
materialization in Italy, and later in Berne, Switzerland, where the
scientists were gathered to investigate that sort of thing? And just
when he was trying to rid himself finally of the notion that any such
thing could be!
 According to that magazine article, some old crone over in Italy—
spiritualist, or witch, or something—had got together a crowd of
experimentalists or professors in an abandoned house on an almost
deserted island off the coast of Sardinia. There they had conducted
experiments with spirits, which they called materialization, getting the
impression of the fingers of a hand, or of a whole hand and arm, or
of a face, on a plate of glass covered with soot, the plate being
locked in a small safe on the center of a table about which they sat!
He, Davidson, couldn’t understand, of course, how it was done,
but done it was. There in that magazine were half a dozen pictures,
reproductions of photographs of a hand, an arm and a face—or a
part of one, anyhow. And if they looked like anything, they looked
exactly like Mersereau’s! Hadn’t Pringle, there in Gatchard, Miss.,
stated spirits could move anywhere, over long distances, with the
speed of light. And would it be any trick for Mersereau to appear
there at Sardinia, and then engineer this magazine into his presence,
here in Los Angeles? Would it? It would not. Spirits were free and
powerful over there, perhaps.
There was not the least doubt that these hands, these partial
impressions of a face, were those of Mersereau. Those big knuckles!
That long, heavy, humped nose and big jaw! Whose else could they
be?—they were Mersereau’s, intended, when they were made over
there in Italy, for him, Davidson, to see later here in Los Angeles.
Yes, they were! And looking at that sinister face reproduced in the
magazine, it seemed to say, with Mersereau’s old coarse sneer:
“You see? You can’t escape me! I’m showing you how
much alive I am over here, just as I was on earth. And I’ll
get you yet, even if I have to go farther than Italy to do it!”
It was amazing, the shock he took from that. It wasn’t just that
alone, but the persistence and repetition of this hand business. What
could it mean? Was it really Mersereau’s hand? As for the face, it
wasn’t all there—just the jaw, mouth, cheek, left temple, and a part of
the nose and eye; but it was Mersereau’s, all right. He had gone
clear over there into Italy somewhere, in a lone house on an island,
to get this message of his undying hate back to him. Or was it just
spirits, evil spirits, bent on annoying him because he was nervous
and sensitive now?

V—October, 1906

Even new crowded hotels and new buildings weren’t the protection
he had at first hoped and thought they would be. Even there you
weren’t safe—not from a man like Mersereau. Take that incident
there in Los Angeles, and again in Seattle, only two months ago
now, when Mersereau was able to make that dreadful explosive or
crashing sound, as if one had burst a huge paper bag full of air, or
upset a china-closet full of glass and broken everything, when as a
matter of fact nothing at all had happened. It had frightened him
horribly the first two or three times, believing as he did that
something fearful had happened. Finding that it was nothing—or
Mersereau—he was becoming used to it now; but other people,
unfortunately, were not.
He would be—as he had been that first time—sitting in his room
perfectly still and trying to amuse himself, or not to think, when
suddenly there would be that awful crash. It was astounding! Other
people heard it, of course. They had in Los Angeles. A maid and a
porter had come running the first time to inquire, and he had had to
protest that he had heard nothing. They couldn’t believe it at first,
and had gone to other rooms to look. When it happened the second
time, the management had protested, thinking it was a joke he was
playing; and to avoid the risk of exposure he had left.
After that he could not keep a valet or nurse about him for long.
Servants wouldn’t stay, and managers of hotels wouldn’t let him
remain when such things went on. Yet he couldn’t live in a house or
apartment alone, for there the noises and atmospheric conditions
would be worse than ever.

VI—June, 1907

Take that last old house he had been in—but never would be in
again!—at Anne Haven. There he actually visualized the hand—a
thing as big as a washtub at first, something like smoke or shadow in
a black room moving about over the bed and everywhere. Then, as
he lay there, gazing at it spellbound, it condensed slowly, and he
began to feel it. It was now a hand of normal size—there was no
doubt of it in the world—going over him softly, without force, as a
ghostly hand must, having no real physical strength, but all the time
with a strange, electric, secretive something about it, as if it were not
quite sure of itself, and not quite sure that he was really there.
The hand, or so it seemed—God!—moved right up to his neck and
began to feel over that as he lay there. Then it was that he guessed
just what it was that Mersereau was after.
It was just like a hand, the fingers and thumb made into a circle
and pressed down over his throat, only it moved over him gently at
first, because it really couldn’t do anything yet, not having the
material strength. But the intention! The sense of cruel, savage
determination that went with it!
And yet, if one went to a nerve specialist or doctor about all this,
as he did afterward, what did the doctor say? He had tried to
describe how he was breaking down under the strain, how he could
not eat or sleep on account of all these constant tappings and
noises; but the moment he even began to hint at his experiences,
especially the hand or the noises, the doctor exclaimed:
“Why, this is plain delusion! You’re nervously run down, that’s all
that ails you—on the verge of pernicious anemia, I should say. You’ll
have to watch yourself as to this illusion about spirits. Get it out of
your mind. There’s nothing to it!”
Wasn’t that just like one of these nerve specialists, bound up in
their little ideas of what they knew or saw, or thought they saw?

VII—November, 1907

And now take this very latest development at Battle Creek recently
where he had gone trying to recuperate on the diet there. Hadn’t
Mersereau, implacable demon that he was, developed this latest
trick of making his food taste queer to him—unpalatable, or with an
odd odor?
 He, Davidson, knew it was Mersereau, for he felt him beside him
at the table whenever he sat down. Besides, he seemed to hear
something—clairaudience was what they called it, he understood—
he was beginning to develop that, too, now! It was Mersereau, of
course, saying in a voice which was more like a memory of a voice
than anything real—the voice of some one you could remember as
having spoken in a certain way, say, ten years or more ago:
“I’ve fixed it so you can’t eat any more, you—”
There followed a long list of vile expletives, enough in itself to
sicken one.
Thereafter, in spite of anything he could do to make himself think
to the contrary, knowing that the food was all right, really, Davidson
found it to have an odor or a taste which disgusted him, and which
he could not overcome, try as he would. The management assured
him that it was all right, as he knew it was—for others. He saw them
eating it. But he couldn’t—had to get up and leave, and the little he
could get down he couldn’t retain, or it wasn’t enough for him to live
on. God, he would die, this way! Starve, as he surely was doing by
degrees now.
And Mersereau always seeming to be standing by. Why, if it
weren’t for fresh fruit on the stands at times, and just plain, fresh-
baked bread in bakers’ windows, which he could buy and eat quickly,
he might not be able to live at all. It was getting to that pass!

VIII—August, 1908

That wasn’t the worst, either, bad as all that was. The worst was
the fact that under the strain of all this he was slowly but surely
breaking down, and that in the end Mersereau might really succeed
in driving him out of life here—to do what, if anything, to him there?
What? It was such an evil pack by which he was surrounded, now,
those who lived just on the other side and hung about the earth, vile,
debauched creatures, as Pringle had described them, and as
Davidson had come to know for himself, fearing them and their ways
so much, and really seeing them at times.
 Since he had come to be so weak and sensitive, he could see
them for himself—vile things that they were, swimming before his
gaze in the dark whenever he chanced to let himself be in the dark,
which was not often—friends of Mersereau, no doubt, and inclined to
help him just for the evil of it.
For this long time now Davidson had taken to sleeping with the
light on, wherever he was, only tying a handkerchief over his eyes to
keep out some of the glare. Even then he could see them—queer,
misshapen things, for all the world like wavy, stringy jellyfish or coils
of thick, yellowish-black smoke, moving about, changing in form at
times, yet always looking dirty or vile, somehow, and with those
queer, dim, reddish or greenish glows for eyes. It was sickening!

IX—October, 1908

Having accomplished so much, Mersereau would by no means be

content to let him go. Davidson knew that! He could talk to him
occasionally now, or at least could hear him and answer back, if he
chose, when he was alone and quite certain that no one was
listening.
Mersereau was always saying, when Davidson would listen to him
at all—which he wouldn’t often—that he would get him yet, that he
would make him pay, or charging him with fraud and murder.
“I’ll choke you yet!” The words seemed to float in from somewhere,
as if he were remembering that at some time Mersereau had said
just that in his angry, savage tone—not as if he heard it; and yet he
was hearing it of course.

“I’ll choke you yet! You can’t escape! You may think you’ll die a
natural death, but you won’t, and that’s why I’m poisoning your food
to weaken you. You can’t escape! I’ll get you, sick or well, when you
can’t help yourself, when you’re sleeping. I’ll choke you, just as you
hit me with that club. That’s why you’re always seeing and feeling
this hand of mine! I’m not alone. I’ve nearly had you many a time
already, only you have managed to wriggle out so far, jumping up,
but some day you won’t be able to—see? Then—”

The voice seemed to die away at times, even in the middle of a

sentence, but at the other times—often, often—he could hear it
completing the full thought. Sometimes he would turn on the thing
and exclaim:
“Oh, go to the devil!” or, “Let me alone!” or, “Shut up!” Even in a
closed room and all alone, such remarks seemed strange to him,
addressed to a ghost; but he couldn’t resist at times, annoyed as he
was. Only he took good care not to talk if any one was about.
It was getting so that there was no real place for him outside of an
asylum, for often he would get up screaming at night—he had to, so
sharp was the clutch on his throat—and then always, wherever he
was, a servant would come in and want to know what was the
matter. He would have to say that it was a nightmare—only the
management always requested him to leave after the second or third
time, say, or after an explosion or two. It was horrible!
He might as well apply to a private asylum or sanatorium now,
having all the money he had, and explain that he had delusions—
delusions! Imagine!—and ask to be taken care of. In a place like that
they wouldn’t be disturbed by his jumping up and screaming at night,
feeling that he was being choked, as he was, or by his leaving the
table because he couldn’t eat the food, or by his talking back to
Mersereau, should they chance to hear him, or by the noises when
they occurred.
They could assign him a special nurse and a special room, if he
wished—only he didn’t wish to be too much alone. They could put
him in charge of some one who would understand all these things, or
to whom he could explain. He couldn’t expect ordinary people, or
hotels catering to ordinary people, to put up with him any more.
Mersereau and his friends made too much trouble.
 He must go and hunt up a good place somewhere where they
understood such things, or at least tolerated them, and explain, and
then it would all pass for the hallucinations of a crazy man,—though,
as a matter of fact, he wasn’t crazy at all. It was all too real, only the
average or so-called normal person couldn’t see or hear as he could
—hadn’t experienced what he had.

X—December, 1908

“The trouble is, doctor, that Mr. Davidson is suffering from the
delusion that he is pursued by evil spirits. He was not committed
here by any court, but came of his own accord about four months
ago, and we let him wander about here at will. But he seems to be
growing worse, as time goes on.
“One of his worst delusions, doctor, is that there is one spirit in
particular who is trying to choke him to death. Dr. Major, our
superintendent, says he has incipient tuberculosis of the throat, with
occasional spasmodic contractions. There are small lumps or
calluses here and there as though caused by outside pressure and
yet our nurse assures us that there is no such outside irritation. He
won’t believe that; but whenever he tries to sleep, especially in the
middle of the night, he will jump up and come running out into the
hall, insisting that one of these spirits, which he insists are after him,
is trying to choke him to death. He really seems to believe it, for he
comes out coughing and choking and feeling at his neck as if some
one has been trying to strangle him. He always explains the whole
matter to me as being the work of evil spirits, and asks me to not pay
any attention to him unless he calls for help or rings his call-bell; and
so I never think anything more of it now unless he does.
“Another of his ideas is that these same spirits do something to his
food—put poison in it, or give it a bad odor or taste, so that he can’t
eat it. When he does find anything he can eat, he grabs it and almost
swallows it whole, before, as he says, the spirits have time to do
anything to it. Once, he says, he weighed more than two hundred
pounds, but now he only weighs one hundred and twenty. His case
is exceedingly strange and pathetic, doctor!
 “Dr. Major insists that it is purely a delusion, that so far as being
choked is concerned, it is the incipient tuberculosis, and that his
stomach trouble comes from the same thing; but by association of
ideas, or delusion, he thinks some one is trying to choke him and
poison his food, when it isn’t so at all. Dr. Major says that he can’t
imagine what could have started it. He is always trying to talk to Mr.
Davidson about it, but whenever he begins to ask him questions, Mr.
Davidson refuses to talk, and gets up and leaves.
“One of the peculiar things about his idea of being choked, doctor,
is that when he is merely dozing he always wakes up in time, and
has the power to throw it off. He claims that the strength of these
spirits is not equal to his own when he is awake, or even dozing, but
when he’s asleep their strength is greater and that then they may
injure him. Sometimes, when he has had a fright like this, he will
come out in the hall and down to my desk there at the lower end,
and ask if he mayn’t sit there by me. He says it calms him. I always
tell him yes, but it won’t be five minutes before he’ll get up and leave
again, saying that he’s being annoyed, or that he won’t be able to
contain himself if he stays any longer, because of the remarks being
made over his shoulder or in his ear.
“Often he’ll say: ‘Did you hear that, Miss Liggett? It’s astonishing,
the low, vile things that man can say at times!’ When I say, ‘No, I
didn’t hear,’ he always says, ‘I’m so glad!’”
“No one has ever tried to relieve him of this by hypnotism, I
suppose?”
“Not that I know of, doctor. Dr. Major may have tried it. I have only
been here three months.”
“Tuberculosis is certainly the cause of the throat trouble, as Dr.
Major says, and as for the stomach trouble, that comes from the
same thing—natural enough under the circumstances. We may have
to resort to hypnotism a little later. I’ll see. In the meantime you’d
better caution all who come in touch with him never to sympathize,
or even to seem to believe in anything he imagines is being done to
him. It will merely encourage him in his notions. And get him to take
his medicine regularly; it won’t cure, but it will help. Dr. Major has
asked me to give especial attention to his case, and I want the
conditions as near right as possible.”
“Yes, sir.”

XI—January, 1909

The trouble with these doctors was that they really knew nothing of
anything save what was on the surface, the little they had learned at
a medical college or in practise—chiefly how certain drugs, tried by
their predecessors in certain cases, were known to act. They had no
imagination whatever, even when you tried to tell them.
Take that latest young person who was coming here now in his
good clothes and with his car, fairly bursting with his knowledge of
what he called psychiatrics, looking into Davidson’s eyes so hard
and smoothing his temples and throat—massage, he called it—
saying that he had incipient tuberculosis of the throat and stomach
trouble, and utterly disregarding the things which he, Davidson,
could personally see and hear! Imagine the fellow trying to persuade
him, at this late date, that all that was wrong with him was
tuberculosis, that he didn’t see Mersereau standing right beside him
at times, bending over him, holding up that hand and telling him how
he intended to kill him yet—that it was all an illusion!
Imagine saying that Mersereau couldn’t actually seize him by the
throat when he was asleep, or nearly so, when Davidson himself,
looking at his throat in the mirror, could see the actual finger prints,—
Mersereau’s,—for a moment or so afterward. At any rate, his throat
was red and sore from being clutched, as Mersereau of late was
able to clutch him! And that was the cause of these lumps. And to
say, as they had said at first, that he himself was making them by
rubbing and feeling his throat, and that it was tuberculosis!
Wasn’t it enough to make one want to quit the place? If it weren’t
for Miss Liggett and Miss Koehler, his private nurse, and their
devoted care, he would. That Miss Koehler was worth her weight in
gold, learning his ways as she had, being so uniformly kind, and
bearing with his difficulties so genially. He would leave her something
in his will.
 To leave this place and go elsewhere, though, unless he could
take her along, would be folly. And anyway, where else would he go?
Here at least were other people, patients like himself, who could
understand and could sympathize with him,—people who weren’t
convinced as were these doctors that all that he complained of was
mere delusion. Imagine! Old Rankin, the lawyer, for instance, who
had suffered untold persecution from one living person and another,
mostly politicians, was convinced that his, Davidson’s, troubles were
genuine, and liked to hear about them, just as did Miss Koehler.
These two did not insist, as the doctors did, that he had slow
tuberculosis of the throat, and could live a long time and overcome
his troubles if he would. They were merely companionable at such
times as Mersereau would give him enough peace to be sociable.
The only real trouble, though, was that he was growing so weak
from lack of sleep and food—his inability to eat the food which his
enemy bewitched and to sleep at night on account of the choking—
that he couldn’t last much longer. This new physician whom Dr.
Major had called into consultation in regard to his case was insisting
that along with his throat trouble he was suffering from acute
anemia, due to long undernourishment, and that only a solution of
strychnin injected into the veins would help him. But as to Mersereau
poisoning his food—not a word would he hear. Besides, now that he
was practically bedridden, not able to jump up as freely as before, he
was subject to a veritable storm of bedevilment at the hands of
Mersereau. Not only could he see—especially toward evening, and
in the very early hours of the morning—Mersereau hovering about
him like a black shadow, a great, bulky shadow—yet like him in
outline, but he could feel his enemy’s hand moving over him. Worse,
behind or about him he often saw a veritable cloud of evil creatures,
companions or tools of Mersereau’s, who were there to help him and
who kept swimming about like fish in dark waters, and seemed to
eye the procedure with satisfaction.
When food was brought to him, early or late, and in whatever form,
Mersereau and they were there, close at hand, as thick as flies,
passing over and through it in an evident attempt to spoil it before he
could eat it. Just to see them doing it was enough to poison it for
him. Besides, he could hear their voices urging Mersereau to do it.
“That’s right—poison it!”
“He can’t last much longer!”
“Soon he’ll be weak enough so that when you grip him he will
really die!”
It was thus that they actually talked—he could hear them.
He also heard vile phrases addressed to him by Mersereau, the
iterated and reiterated words “murderer” and “swindler” and “cheat,”
there in the middle of the night. Often, although the light was still on,
he saw as many as seven dark figures, very much like Mersereau’s,
although different, gathered close about him,—like men in
consultation—evil men. Some of them sat upon his bed, and it
seemed as if they were about to help Mersereau to finish him,
adding their hands to his.
Behind them again was a complete circle of all those evil,
swimming things with green and red eyes, always watching—
helping, probably. He had actually felt the pressure of the hand to
grow stronger of late, when they were all there. Only, just before he
felt he was going to faint, and because he could not spring up any
more, he invariably screamed or gasped a choking gasp and held his
finger on the button which would bring Miss Koehler. Then she would
come, lift him up, and fix his pillows. She also always assured him
that it was only the inflammation of his throat, and rubbed it with
alcohol, and gave him a few drops of something internally to ease it.
After all this time, and in spite of anything he could tell them, they
still believed, or pretended to believe, that he was suffering from
tuberculosis, and that all the rest of this was delusion, a phase of
insanity!
And Mersereau’s skeleton still out there on the Monte Orte!
And Mersereau’s plan, with the help of others, of course, was to
choke him to death, there was no doubt of that now; and yet they
would believe after he was gone that he had died of tuberculosis of
the throat. Think of that.

XII—Midnight of February 10, 1909

The Ghost of Mersereau (bending over Davidson): “Softly!

Softly! He’s quite asleep! He didn’t think we could get him—that I
could! But this time,—yes. Miss Koehler is asleep at the end of the
hall and Miss Liggett can’t come, can’t hear. He’s too weak now. He
can scarcely move or groan. Strengthen my hand, will you! I will grip
him so tight this time that he won’t get away! His cries won’t help him
this time! He can’t cry as he once did! Now! Now!”
A Cloud of Evil Spirits (swimming about): “Right! Right! Good!
Good! Now! Ah!”
Davidson (waking, choking, screaming, and feebly striking out):
“Help! Help! H-e-l-p! Miss—Miss—H—e—l—p!”
Miss Liggett (dozing heavily in her chair): “Everything is still. No
one restless. I can sleep.” (Her head nods.)
The Cloud of Evil Spirits: “Good! Good! Good! His soul at last!
Here it comes! He couldn’t escape this time! Ah! Good! Good! Now!”
Mersereau (to Davidson): “You murderer! At last! At last!”

XIII—3 A.M. of February 17, 1909

Miss Koehler (at the bedside, distressed and pale): “He must
have died some time between one and two, doctor. I left him at one
o’clock, comfortable as I could make him. He said he was feeling as
well as could be expected. He’s been very weak during the last few
days, taking only a little gruel. Between half past one and two I
thought I heard a noise, and came to see. He was lying just as you
see here, except that his hands were up to his throat, as if it were
hurting or choking him. I put them down for fear they would stiffen
that way. In trying to call one of the other nurses just now, I found
that the bell was out of order, although I know it was all right when I