How many of our citizens who have ever given the matter an hour’s thought fail to see that a democratic instead of a representative form of government (as intended by the founders of the Republic) must eventually lead to systematized anarchy?
And yet, what can they do about it?
Such problems, by the time they have begun to attract public attention, have become so hopelessly complicated that they are rarely solved except by a social cataclysm. And social cataclysms are terrible things from which most men shy away. Rather than run to such extremes, they try to patch up the old, decrepit machinery and meanwhile they pray that some miracle will occur which will make it work.
An insolent religious and social dictatorship, set up and maintained by a number of religious orders, was one of the most flagrant evils of the out-going Middle Ages.
For the so-many-eth time in history, the army was about to run away with the commander-in-chief. In plain words, the situation had grown entirely beyond the control of the popes. All they could do was to sit still, improve their own party organization, and meanwhile try to mitigate the fate of those who had incurred the displeasure of their common enemies, the friars.
Erasmus was one of the many scholars who had frequently enjoyed the protection of the Pope. Let Louvain storm and the Dominicans rave, Rome would stand firm and woe unto him who disregarded her command, “Leave the old man alone!”
And after these few introductory remarks, it will be no matter of surprise that Rabelais, a mutinous soul but a brilliant mind withal, could often count upon the support of the Holy See when the superiors of his own order wished to punish him and that he readily obtained permission to leave his cloister when constant interference with his studies began to make his life unbearable.
And so with a sigh of relief, he shook the dust of Maillezais off his feet and went to Montpellier and to Lyons to follow a course in medicine.
Surely here was a man of extraordinary talents! Within less than two years the former Benedictine monk had become chief physician of the city hospital of Lyons. But as soon as he had achieved these new honors, his restless soul began to look for pastures new. He did not give up his powders and pills but in addition to his anatomical studies (a novelty almost as dangerous as the study of Greek) he took up literature.
Lyons, situated in the center of the valley of the Rhone, was an ideal city for a man who cared for belles lettres. Italy was nearby. A few days easy travel carried the traveler to the Provence and although the ancient paradise of the Troubadours had suffered dreadfully at the hands of the Inquisition, the grand old literary tradition had not yet been entirely lost. Furthermore, the printing-presses of Lyons were famous for the excellence of their product and her book stores were well stocked with all the latest publications.