Luther has a more extensive bibliography, but with Geyler each item means a volume, whereas the sermons of the great reformer were published as a rule separately, and as soon as they were preached. Like the celebrated Maillard, he did not hesitate to denounce the selfishness of the rich, the extravagance and coquetry of women, and the licentiousness and corruption of the clergy. From a documentary point of view, Geyler’s sermons are most interesting, for in reprobating the follies of his time he gives a number of details concerning the manners of the period, which would be difficult to find elsewhere. On the verso, for instance, of the initial B, with David and his harp, there is a fragment of one of his discourses on ‘bathing,’ which gives a good idea of ecclesiastical proprieties at the end of the fifteenth century. ‘Is it,’ says Geyler, ‘allowable, balnea intrare, on Sunday?’ ‘Dico,’ he replies, that ‘pro voluptate’ and ‘pro luxuria,’ it is forbidden at all times, but it is allowed on necessity. By ‘voluptas’ he says, he understands ‘superfluous delectation,’ which is a sin but not mortal. By ‘necessity,’ honest and opportune recreation. He next asks, ‘Liceat clericis vel religiosis balnea intrare?’ Again he replies, ‘Dico, yes, upon necessity’; but necessity not only means infirmity, but also any lawful ‘refocillatio’ of the body. The apostle John, he says, ‘ingressus est balnea gratia lavandi.’ The first line of his _tertio_ starts with the question as to whether it was licit to take a bath with a Jew, but here the cutting ends. It must be remembered that in the fifteenth century, hot air and vapour baths were most popular, but they had anything but a good reputation. It is probable that the prohibitions of Geyler were directed rather against the place of evil resort, than, as would at first seem, against cleanliness. But the most amusing of Geyler’s publications is a series of sermons, ‘Navicula sive speculum Fatuorum,’ an imitation of Brandt’s celebrated satire on Fools, which had recently appeared. In the earliest edition, each section begins with an initial representing a fool’s cap with large bells. In that before us, each sermon is preceded by an apposite illustration from the work in question, but there are no ornamental initials. The first concerns foolish aspirants for mitres and birettes. The second, which is illustrated by the well-known cut representing a spectacled fool in his library--in the original, the fool who collects books he does not read--here deals with bad judges and senators.