Around Rondelet, in those years, sometimes indeed in his house—­for professors in those days took private pupils as lodgers—­worked the group of botanists whom Linnaeus calls “the Fathers,” the authors of the descriptive botany of the sixteenth century.  Their names, and those of their disciples and their disciples again, are household words in the mouth of every gardener, immortalised, like good Bishop Pellicier, in the plants that have been named after them.  The Lobelia commemorates Lobel, one of Rondelet’s most famous pupils, who wrote those “Adversaria” which contain so many curious sketches of Rondelet’s botanical expeditions, and who inherited his botanical (as Joubert his biographer inherited his anatomical) manuscripts.  The Magnolia commemorates the Magnols; the Sarracenia, Sarrasin of Lyons; the Bauhinia, Jean Bauhin; the Fuchsia, Bauhin’s earlier German master, Leonard Fuchs; and the Clusia—­the received name of that terrible “Matapalo” or “Scotch attorney,” of the West Indies, which kills the hugest tree, to become as huge a tree itself—­immortalises the great Clusius, Charles de l’Escluse, citizen of Arras, who, after studying civil law at Louvain, philosophy at Marburg, and theology at Wittemberg under Melancthon, came to Montpellier in 1551, to live in Rondelet’s own house, and become the greatest botanist of his age.

These were Rondelet’s palmy days.  He had got a theatre of anatomy built at Montpellier, where he himself dissected publicly.  He had, says tradition, a little botanic garden, such as were springing up then in several universities, specially in Italy.  He had a villa outside the city, whose tower, near the modern railway station, still bears the name of the “Mas de Rondelet.”  There, too, may be seen the remnants of the great tanks, fed with water brought through earthen pipes from the Fountain of Albe, wherein he kept the fish whose habits he observed.  Professor Planchon thinks that he had salt-water tanks likewise; and thus he may have been the father of all “Aquariums.”  He had a large and handsome house in the city itself, a large practice as physician in the country round; money flowed in fast to him, and flowed out fast likewise.  He spent much upon building, pulling down, rebuilding, and sent the bills in seemingly to his wife and to his guardian angel Catharine.  He himself had never a penny in his purse:  but earned the money, and let his ladies spend it; an equitable and pleasant division of labour which most married men would do well to imitate.  A generous, affectionate, careless little man, he gave away, says his pupil and biographer, Joubert, his valuable specimens to any savant who begged for them, or left them about to be stolen by visitors, who, like too many collectors in all ages, possessed light fingers and lighter consciences.  So pacific was he meanwhile, and so brave withal that even in the fearful years of “The Troubles,” he would never carry sword, nor even tuck or dagger:  but went about on the most lonesome journeys as one who wore a charmed life, secure in God and in his calling, which was to heal, and not to kill.