the charming prelate for his frescoes was the story of Venus and Cupid. In one of her most amusing letters Madame de Sévigné bewails the necessity of taking shower-baths at Vichy, which she regarded as a “humiliating” situation to be in. To give herself courage, she conceived the singular idea of keeping her two maids with her, so that she might “see familiar faces.” At the same time, she got her physician, a man of parts, to conceal himself behind a curtain, so that she might chat with him during the operation. We do not know what the impressions of Madame de Sévigné’s descendants are, but we know that her ancestresses were on this point extremely fastidious. Margaret of France, not to lose sight of the story of the chaste Susanna, had it embroidered on a table-cover. We get an idea, then, of the cautious attitude adopted in regard to hydrotherapeutics. But on the other hand the friends of antiquity restored water to a place of honour; scholars proved that the Romans had been devoted to it; the higher clergy became its apostles. George of Amboise and his brothers multiplied the spas at Rouen, Blois, Gaillon, Clermont, as the pope did at Rome. In regard to mineral springs, there appeared, under the auspices of the pope and the Venetian senate, a large folio official guide,[223] which explained that there were waters for all sick bodies as there were saints for all sick souls,[224] but that no one should venture to them without seeking advice in the proper quarter. A person wishing to go to the waters would consult a physician. If he was a specialist like Savonarola, he would look at everything with aquatic prepossessions, and commence his patient’s initiation at home with baths of various kinds—baths of oil, of wine, of milk, of fire, of compressed air. One fine morning he would announce that mineral waters were spoilt in transit, that he was tired of making the patient drink stale water, and he would then dispatch him to some natural spring. Most of the Italian springs, at any rate such as were much frequented, had the good taste to flow in or near a city, and thus people were likely to meet familiar faces, if only among the regular visitors. Under Louis XII., the city of Genoa revolted because its French captain, the Sire de Roquebertin, instead of attending to business, tiresome certainly, passed his life at the waters of Acqui.