The term “incubation” in its rigid sense applies to the act of hatching eggs, either naturally or artificially. It has however been adopted by physicians to denote that state of predisposition to disease, in which the germ of the malady lurks, latent and unperceived by the inexperienced observer. Too frequently the individual who is thus menaced is totally unaware of his condition. So far from being depressed in spirits, his hopes are more sanguine, and his future projects more industriously formed than usual. At other times, on the contrary, he labours under a load of despondency which he cannot explain, and his gloom seems to anticipate his end. This presentiment has oftentimes been singularly prophetic. Moreau de St. Remy relates the case of one of his most intimate friends, who visited him, saying, “I come to die near you.” He was apparently in perfect health, but the prediction too soon proved true.
It is no doubt probable, that in these cases the influence of the mind labouring under these fatal impressions brings about, by its all-powerful sympathetic power on our functions, the expected yet dreaded event.
Incubation is observed in many contagious affections; and in hydrophobia its duration is amazing, this dreadful malady developing itself years after the original accident. In mentaldiseases, aberrations of the intellectual faculties are noticed long before the patient can be pronounced insane; oddities, as they are called, are frequently the precursors of mania.
The ancient Greeks and Egyptians use the term “incubation” in another sense. With them it expressed the religious ceremony of sleeping in the temples of the gods, to be inspired with the means of relieving their sufferings. Nothing can express this superstitious rite more forcibly than the following letter from Aspasia to Pericles, recorded by one of the scholiasts of Ælian.
“Aspasia to Pericles, greeting. Podalirius! Podalirius, to whom Love taught the art of healing, and who in return didst consecrate thine art to Love, I return thee my thanks. Athens will once more see me beauteous! I shall have lost none of my attractions, and Pericles shall find in his Aspasia all that he once held dear! Podalirius, I return thee my thanks; and thou, Pericles, be grateful to my benefactor. I did not wish to write to thee until I was certain that I had been cured. I shall relate to thee my voyage. I punctually followed the instructions of Nocrates, that wise and enlightened physician. I first repaired to Memphis, where I visited, but without success, the temple of Isis. I there beheld the goddess, and her son Orus, seated on a throne, supported by two lions. TheSebestus[23]grew round her shrine! Incense was burnt in the morning, myrrha during the day, and cyplis at eve. I was assured that young Alexander had come to this temple not long before to indulge in a holy contemplation, and learn by inspiration the means of curing his friend Ptolemy: his supplications were heeded. I also slept in the temple, but found no relief. This misfortune, alas! was attributed to my incredulity. I took my departure, and repaired to Patras. There I saw in her temple the divine Hygeia; not as she was represented by Aristophanes, when she relieved Plutus, sweet and graceful, clothed in an aerial robe and a short tunic, and holding in her hand a cup ofMusa, whence a serpent was seen to spring, but she appeared to me in the form of a mysterious pentagon. I first paid a devout visit to the fountain; and while I deposited my offerings at the feet of the goddess, a mirror was floating on the surface of the waters upon which I gazed by order of thepriests, but I was not cured! Thence I went to sleep at Pergania and at Hercyna. But the gods seemed to slumber when Aspasia slept! On a sudden the name of Podalirius struck mine ear! I was informed that his temple was at Lacera. I instantly sought it; and, on my arrival, bathed in the Althonus. After the bath, I was anointed with the perfumed balsams that our friend Sosinius had given me in the temple of Mercury the day I left Athens. I then put up my prayers to deserve the favour I implored from the god. At nightfall I sought repose on the skin of a ram close to the statuary pillar. I soon found myself in that state when we are no longer wide awake, but when sleep has not yet lulled our senses to repose. Methought that a celestial light was shed around me. Æsculapius appeared to me with his two daughters; and, from the clouds that surrounded him, he promised me my pristine health. I soon after fell into a profound sleep; but towards the break of day I beheld Cypris—Cypris who was always the friend of Podalirius: she came herself! I recognised her, although she had assumed the form of a gentle dove. Yes, Cypris came to cure me. Podalirius! Æsculapius! Cypris! each day shall you be thanked by Aspasia and by Pericles.
“I must now relate to thee the vision of a Daunian, who slept near me. She suffered from an affection of her breast, and this she dreamed:—She beheld the young god Harpocrates lying on leaves of lotos, and covered with bandages from the head to the feet. He appeared weak and emaciated; he cried like an infant, supplicating the poor woman to nurse him. Soon after, she dreamt that a lamb came to seek his sustenance from her bosom. The dream was fulfilled,—it clearly indicated the use of a certain plant; but, until it could be obtained, the Daunian was advised to eat nothing but stewed raisins. Learn that here various names are given to various inspirations. The last dream I have related is calledallegorical. When a dream prescribes a certain remedy, it is namedtheôrematic. Here are many dreams: wise Pericles, thou art perhaps smiling at them; but what isnotvisionary is my perfect recovery, and my love for thee. Farewell!”
Although this letter of Aspasia is an evident fiction, yet it gives an excellent, though a romantic description of the incubation of the ancients. Aspasia was supposed to be labouring under one of the most vexatious disorders that can affect a pretty woman,—an eruption in the face; hence the gods sent her a mirror, that her devotion might be increasedby her unsightly appearance. It is not improbable that in those days, as in the present era, women of a certain, or rather an uncertain age, were more fervid in their endeavours to render themselves acceptable to Heaven when they ceased to be admired and sought for upon earth.
The origin of the word “quack” is not ascertained. Johnson derives it from the verb “to quack, or gabble like a goose.” Butler uses this verb as descriptive of the encomiums empirics heap upon their nostrums. Thus in Hudibras:
Believe mechanic VirtuosiCan raise them mountains in Potosi,Seek out for plants with signaturesToquackof universal cures.
The wordcharlatanis equally enveloped in obscurity. Furetiere and Calepin say that it is derived from the Italian wordCeretano, fromCæretum, a town near Spoleto, whence a band of impostors first sallied forth, marching under the banners of Hippocrates, and roving from town to town, selling drugs and giving medical advice.[24]Ménage has it thatcharlatansprings fromCirculatanus, fromCirculator. Other etymologists trace it to the ItalianCiarlare, to chatter; henceCiarlatan.
The Romans called their quacksAgyrtæ, orSeplasiarii, fromSeplasium, the generic name of aromatic substances.Seplasiumwas the place where they vended their drugs. Thus Martial:
Quodque ab Adumæis vectumseplasiavendunt,Et quidquid confert medicis lagæa cataplus.
An empiric was also calledPlanusandCirculator“unde Plani unde levatores.”
Some of the stratagems resorted to by needy empirics to get into practice are very ingenious, and many a regular physician has been obliged to have recourse to similarartifices to procure employment. It is related of a Parisian physician, that, on his first arrival in the capital, he was in the habit of sending his servant in a carriage about daybreak to rap at the doors of the principal mansions to inquire for his master, as he was sent for to repair instantly to such and such a prince, who was dying. The drowsy porter naturally replied, with much ill-humour, “that he knew nothing of his master.”—“What! did he not pass the night in this house?” replied the footman, apparently astonished. “No,” gruffly answered the Swiss; “there’s nobody ill here.”—“Then I must have mistaken the house. Is not this the hotel of the Duke of ——?”—“No. Go to the devil!” exclaimed the porter, closing the ponderous gates. From this house his valet then proceeded from street to street, alarming the whole neighbourhood with his loud rap. Of course nothing else was spoken of in the porter’s lodge, the grocer’s shop, and the servants’ hall for nine days.
Another quack, upon his arrival in a town, announced himself by sending the bellman round, offering fifty guineas reward for a poodle belonging to Doctor ——, Physician to his Majesty and the Royal Family, Professor of Medicine, and Surgeon General, who had put up at such and such an inn. Of course the physician of a king, who could give fifty guineas for a lost dog, must be a man of pre-eminence in his profession.
Another indigent physician having complained of his ill-fortune to an ingenious friend, received the following advice: TheCafé de la Régenceis now in fashion: I play at chess every day at two o’clock, when a considerable crowd is assembled. Come there at the same hour; do not pretend to know me; call for a cup of coffee, and always pay the waiter his money in a rose-coloured paper: leave the rest to me. The doctor followed his advice; and his eccentric manners were soon observed,—when his friend informed the persons around him, that he was one of the ablest practitioners in the land; that he had known him for upwards of fifteen years, and that his cures were most marvellous,—his extreme modesty alone having prevented him from giving publicity to his abilities. He further added, I have long wished to become intimate with so great a man; but he is so absorbed in the study of his profession, that he scarcely ever enters into conversation with any one. In a short time, the Rose-colour Doctor was in extensive business.
Many years ago, the jaw-breaking wordsTetrachymagogonandFellino Guffino Cardimo Cardimac Frames, were chalked all over London, as two miracle-working doctors. Men with such names must have some superior qualification, and numbers flocked to consult them. Another quack put up as an advertisement, that he had just arrived in town, after having made the wonderful discovery of the green and red dragon and the female fern-seed. This was sure to attract notice. An advertisement was handed about of a learned physician, “who had studied thirty years by candle-light for the good of his countrymen.” He was, moreover, the seventh son of a seventh son, and was possessed of a wonderful cure for hernia, as both his father and his grandfather had been ruptured. This reminds one of the oculist in Mouse Alley, mentioned in the Spectator, who undertook to cure cataracts, in consequence of his having lost an eye in the Imperial service. Dr. Case made a fortune by having the lines,Within this place, lives Doctor Case, written in large characters upon his door.
The accidental circumstances which frequently bring medical men into extensive practice, or that notoriety which may lead to it, are truly curious. It is well known that a most eminent English physician owed all his success to his having been on a particular occasion in a state of intoxication. Disappointed on his first arrival in London, he sought comfort in a neighbouring tavern, where the servant of the house at which he lodged went to fetch him one evening, after a heavy potation, to see a certain countess. The high-sounding title of this unexpected patient tended not a little to increase the excitement under which he laboured. He followed a livery footman as steadily as he could, and was ushered in silence into a noble mansion, where her ladyship’s woman anxiously waited to conduct him most discreetly to her mistress’s room; her agitation most probably preventing her from perceiving the doctor’s state. He was introduced into a splendid bedchamber, and staggered towards the bed in which the lady lay. He went through the routine practice of pulse-feeling, &c., and proceeded to the table to write a prescription, which, in all probability, would have been mechanically correct. But here his powers failed him. In vain he strove to trace the salutary characters, until, wearied in his attempts, he cast down the pen, and, exclaiming “Drunk, by G—!” he made his best way out of the house. Two days afterwards he was not a little surprised by receiving a letter from the lady, enclosing a check for 100l., and promising himthe patronage of her family and friends, if he would observe the strictest secrecy on the state he found her in. The fact simply was, that the countess had been indulging in brandy and laudanum, which her abigail had procured for her, and was herself in the very condition which the doctor had frankly applied to himself.
Chance, more than science or ability, has frequently brought professional men to the summit of their business. There is an Eastern story of a certain prince who had received from a fairy the faculty of not only assuming whatever appearance he thought proper, but of discerning the wandering spirits of the departed. He had long laboured under a painful chronic disease, that none of the court physicians, ordinary or extraordinary, could relieve; and he resolved to wander about the streets of his capital until he could find some one, regular or irregular, who could alleviate his sufferings. For this purpose he donned the garb and appearance of a dervish. As he was passing through one of the principal streets, he was surprised to see it so thronged with ghosts, that, had they been still inhabitants of their former earthly tenements, they must have obstructed the thoroughfare. But what was his amazement and dismay when he saw that they were all grouped with anxious looks round the door of his royal father’s physician, haunting, no doubt, the man to whom they attributed their untimely doom. Shocked with the sight, he hurried to another part of the city, where resided another physician of the court, holding the second rank in fashionable estimation. Alas! his gateway was also surrounded with reproachful departed patients. Thunderstruck at such a discovery, and returning thanks to the prophet that he was still in being, despite the practice of these great men, he resolved to submit all the other renowned practitioners to a similar visit, and he was grieved to find that the scale of ghosts kept pace with the scale of their medical rank. Heartbroken, and despairing of a cure, he was slowly sauntering back to the palace, when, in an obscure street, and on the door of an humble dwelling, he read a doctor’s name. One single poor solitary ghost, leaning his despondent cheek upon his fleshless hand, was seated on the doctor’s steps. “Alas!” exclaimed the prince, “it is, then, too true that humble merit withers in the shade, while ostentatious ignorance inhabits golden mansions. This poor neglected doctor, who has but one unlucky case to lament, is then the only man in whom I can place confidence.” He rapped; the door was opened by thedoctor himself, a venerable old man, not rich enough, perhaps, to keep a domestic to answer his infrequent calls. His white locks and flowing beard added to the confidence which his situation had inspired. The elated youth then related at full length all his complicated ailments, and the still more complicated treatment to which he had in vain been submitted. The sapient physician was not illiberal enough to say that the prince’s attendants had all been in error, since all mankind may err; but his sarcastic smile, the curl of his lips, and the dubious shake of his hoary head, most eloquently told the anxious patient that he considered his former physicians as an ignorant, murderous set of upstarts, only fit to depopulate a community. With a triumphant look he promised a cure, and gave his overjoyed client a much-valued prescription, which he carefully confided to his bosom; after which he expressed his gratitude by pouring upon the doctor’s table a purse of golden sequins, which made the old man’s blinking eyes shine as brightly as the coin he beheld in wondrous delight. His joy gave suppleness to his rigid spine, and, after bowing the prince out in the most obsequious manner, he ventured to ask him one humble question: “By what good luck, by what kind planet, had he been recommended to seek his advice?” The prince naturally asked for the reason of so strange a question: to which the worthy doctor replied, with eyes brimful with tears of gratitude, “Oh, sir, because I considered myself the most unfortunate man in Bagdad until this happy moment; for I have been settled in this noble and wealthy city for these last fifteen years, and have only been able to obtain one single patient.”—“Ah!” cried the prince in despair, “then it must be that poor, solitary, unhappy-looking ghost that is now sitting on your steps!”
It has been observed that religious sects have materially contributed to the elevation of physicians in society, and political associations have been equally beneficial. The celebrated Mead was the son of a non-conforming minister, who, knowing the influence he possessed over his numerous congregation, brought him up as a physician, in the full confidence of obtaining the splendid result that rewarded the speculation. His example was followed by several dissenting preachers; among whom we may name Oldfield, Clarke, Nesbitt, Lobb, Munckly, whose sons all rose to extensive and most lucrative practice. At that period, St. Thomas’s and Guy’s Hospitals were under the government ofDissenters and Whigs; and so soon as any one became a physician to the establishment, his fortune was made. The same advantages attended St. Bartholomew’s and Bethlem, both of royal foundation.
Dr. Meyer Schomberg, who was a poor Jew of Cologne, came to London without any profession, when, not knowing what to do to obtain a living, to use his own words, he said, “I am a physician;” and, having thus conferred a degree upon himself, he sedulously cultivated the acquaintance of all his fellow Jews about Duke’s-place, got introduced to some of their leading and wealthy mercantile brethren, and a few years after Dr. Schomberg was in the annual receipt of four thousand pounds. It is rather strange, but the Jew was succeeded in his lucrative practice by a Quaker. This was the celebrated Dr. Fothergill. Brought up an apothecary, he took out a Scotch degree, and, attaching himself to Schomberg, calculated on following his example; and, on his patron’s decease, he slipped into the practice of both Jew and Gentile.
Amongst many singular instances of good fortune may be mentioned a surgeon of the name of Broughton, to whom our East India Company may consider themselves as most indebted, since he was the person who first pointed out the advantages that might result from trading in Bengal. Broughton happened to travel from Surat to Agra in the year 1636, when he had the luck to cure one of the daughters of the EmperorShah-Jehan. To reward him, this prince allowed him a free trade throughout his dominions. Broughton immediately repaired to Bengal to purchase goods, which he sent round by sea to Surat. Scarcely had he returned, when he was requested to attend the favourite of a powerful nabob, and he fortunately restored her to health, when, in addition to a pension, his commercial privileges were still more widely extended; the prince promising him at the same time a favourable reception for British traders. Broughton lost no time in communicating this intelligence to the Governor of Surat; and it was by his advice that the company sent out two large ships to Bengal in 1640.
There are some amusing anecdotes related regarding a vocation for the medical profession. Andrew Rudiger, a physician of Leipsic, when at college, made an anagram of his name, and, in the wordsAndreas Rudigerhe found “Arare Rus Dei Dignus,” or “worthy to cultivate the field of God.” He immediately fancied that his vocation was the church, andcommenced his theological studies. Showing but little disposition for the clerical calling, the learned Thomasius recommended him to return to his original pursuits. Rudiger confessed that he had more inclination for the profession of medicine than the church; but that he had considered the anagram of his name as a divine injunction. “There you are in error,” replied Thomasius; “that very anagram calls you to the art of healing; forRus Deiclearly meaneth the churchyard.”
The subject of quackery, in every sphere of life, whether it be resorted to by diplomatists or physicians, sanctimonious adventurers or fashionableroués, leads to serious consideration. How comes it that man seems more anxious to be deceived than enlightened? Simply from the errors of his education, which foster a love for the marvellous, and induce him to admire that which really is not or cannot be comprehended. The superiority of the intellectual faculties of the ancients, at an earlier age than the generality of men in the present times, is solely to be attributed to their having been brought up with philosophical views. Mallebranche has justly said, “that to become a philosopher, we mustsee clearly; but to be endued with faith, we mustbelieve blindly.” Although we cannot admit this axiom in matters of revealed religion, yet in many worldly concerns it does hold. If a youth was not educated with the scholastic jargon, commonly called learning, he would be considered ignorant. Helvetius has said, that man is born ignorant, but not a fool; and that it is even no easy matter to make him one; and the same writer has very justly divided stupidity into that which is natural, arising from ignorance, and that which is acquired and the result of instruction. It is thus that, by speaking to the passions, naturally weak, and to our desires and apprehensions, ever ready to grasp at a favourite phantom,—the artful manage to exercise a more powerful control, and incline persons to believe what their senses actually discredit. The traffic of hope and fear has ever been a lucrative trade; and while fear became the staple commodity of priestcraft, hope was the fortune of medical quacks. The multiplication of sins increased the profits of the one; the various diseases, real and imaginary, to which flesh is heir, became the source of emolument to the other. It is under these cherished impressions of ameliorating our condition, that many men of common sense, and even of judgment, are induced to rely on the most absurd and fallacious promises; so prone are weto believe all that we wish;—the fidelity of a woman, the truth of a sycophant, and the candour of a flatterer. If there could be established a regular college of quackery, where the errors of mankind might be studied, and pupils taught to avail themselves of their follies, as a future vocation, a more perfect knowledge of the world would be acquired than in all the universities in Europe. Our sovereigns would be wise in selecting their ministers amongst the graduates of this academy. Cardinal Du Perron, who, in a long homily, convinced his sovereign, Henry III., of the existence of a God, and afterwards informed him that he would prove the contrary, if it could afford his Majesty any consolation, might have been selected as a proper rector for such an institution.
It is also to be observed that the founders of all doctrines, however hypothetical and absurd, have generally assumed a dogmatic language, which gives to their fallacious assertions an appearance of truth, and Bacon has long ago said, “Method, carrying a show of total and perfect knowledge, has a tendency to general acquiescence.”
Quackery is considered by many practitioners as necessary to forward the views of medical men. It is related of Charles Patin, that being on a visit to a physician at Basle, where his son was studying medicine, he questioned the youth on the principal studies required to form a physician; to which the future candidate for medical popularity replied, “Anatomy, physiology, pathology, and therapeutics.” “You have omitted the chief pursuit,” replied his catechiser, “quackery.”
When we cast our eyes on the absurd names which many Italian academies adopted to characterize the nature of their studies, we find an ample illustration of this science in theSeraphici, theOscuri, theImmaturi, theInfecundi, theOffuscati, theSomnolenti, andPhantastici!
The most ridiculous and disgusting epithets have been considered honourable distinctions. Thus, when the science ofUroscopiaandUromancyprevailed, we find a Dr. Theodorus Charles, a Wirtemberg physician, calling another learned practitioner, “Urinosa Claritas.”
Such is the growing consumption of this now indispensable article in England, that in 1789 there were imported 14,534,601 lbs., and in 1833 the quantity was increased to 31,829,620 lbs.; the latter importation yielding a revenue of 3,444,101l.In other countries we find the consumption much less. Russia in 1832 imported 6,461,064 lbs.; Holland consumes about 2,800,000 lbs., and France only 230,000 lbs.
It is supposed that tea was first introduced into Europe by the Dutch, about the middle of the seventeenth century; and Lords Arlington and Ossory are said to be the first persons who made it known in England. In 1641, Tulpius, a Dutch physician, mentioned it in his works. In 1667, Fouquet, a French physician, recommended it to the French faculty; and in 1678, an elaborate treatise was written on it by Cornelius Boutkoë, physician to the Elector of Brandenburg. About the same time, several travellers and missionaries, amongst whom we find Kœmpfer, Kalm, Osbeck, Duhalde, and Lecomte, give various accounts of the plant and its divers qualities.
The Chinese name of this plant istheh, aFokienword. In the Mandarin it istcha, and the Japanese call ittsjaa.Loureiro, in hisFlora Cochin-China, describes three species of tea. It is a polyandrous plant of the natural orderColumniferæ, growing to a height varying from three to six feet, and bearing a great resemblance to our myrtle. The blossom is white, with yellow style and anthers, not unlike that of the dog-rose; the leaves are the only valuable part of the plant. Thecamellias, particularly thecamellia sesanqua, of the same natural family, are the only plants liable to be confounded with it. The leaves of the latter camellia are indeed frequently used as a substitute for those of the tea-plant in several districts of China. This shrub is a hardy evergreen, growing in the open air from the equator to the forty-fifth degree of northern latitude; but the climate that appears the most congenial to it seems to be between the twenty-fifth and thirty-third degree. Almost every province and district in China produces tea for local consumption: but what is cultivated for trade is chiefly in Fokien, Canton, Kiang-nan,Kiang-si, and Che-Kiang; Fokien being celebrated for its black tea, and Kiang-nan for the green. The plant is also cultivated in Japan, Tonquin, and Cochin-China, and in some parts of the mountainous tracts of Ava, where, in addition to its use in infusion, it is converted into a pickle preserved in oil. When tea was first introduced as a luxury on particular occasions in the wild districts of Ireland, the people used to throw away the water in which it had been boiled, and eat the leaves with salt-butter or bacon like greens. The Dutch are now endeavouring to propagate this valuable plant in Java, and for that purpose employ cultivators, who have emigrated from Fokien. The Brazilians are making similar attempts, and some tolerable tea has been reared near Rio Janeiro.
The black teas usually imported from Canton are thebohea,congou,souchong, andpekoe, according to our orthography: the French missionaries spelt them as follows:boui,camphouorcampoui,saotchaon, andpekaoorpeko. Our green teas are thetwankay,hyson-skin, andhyson,imperial, andgunpowder; the first of which French travellers writetonkay,hayswin-skine, andhayswin. The French import a tea calledtêhulan, but it is artificially flavoured with a leaf calledlan hoa, or theolea fragransof Linnæus.
The tea-plant grows to perfection in two or three years: the leaves are carefully picked by the family of the growers, and immediately carried to market, where they are purchased for drying in sheds. The tea-merchants from Canton repair to the several districts where it is produced, and, after purchasing the leaves thus simply desiccated, submit them to various manipulations; after which they are packed in branded cases and parcels calledchops, from a Chinese word meaning a seal. Some of the leaf-buds of the finest black tea plants are picked early in the spring, before they expand: these constitutepekoe, sometimes called “white-blossomed tea,” from their being intermixed with the blossoms of theolea fragrans. The younger the leaf, the more high-flavoured and valuable is the tea. Green teas are grown and gathered in the same manner; but amongst these the gunpowder stands in the grade of thepekoeamong the black, being prepared with the unopened buds of the spring crops. The alleged preparation of green teas upon copper plates, to give them a verdant colour, is an idle story. They are dried in iron vases over a gentle fire; and the operator conducts this delicate work with his naked hand, and the utmost care notto break the fragile leaves. This part of the manipulation is considered the most difficult, as the leaves are rolled into their usual shape between the palms of the hands until they are cold, to prevent them from unrolling. Teas are adulterated by various odoriferous plants, more especially thevitex pinnata, thechloranthus inconspicuus, and theillicium anisatum. In our markets the chief adulteration is operated by the mixture of sloe and ash leaves, and colouring with terra Japonica and other drugs.
That tea is a substance injurious to health is beyond a doubt. Nothing but long habit from early life renders it less baneful than it otherwise would be: persons who take its infusion for the first time invariably experience uncomfortable sensations. It is well known that individuals who are not in the practice of taking tea in the evening, never transgress this habit with impunity; and it is quite clear that a preparation which deprives them of sleep, and renders them restless during a whole night, cannot be salubrious by day; and although the following opinion of Dr. Trotter regarding the use of this leaf is somewhat exaggerated, it is founded on experience; and I have known several persons afflicted with a variety of serious affections who never could obtain relief until they had ceased to consume it.
“Tea is a beverage well suited to the taste of an indolent and voluptuous age. To the glutton it affords a grateful diluent after a voracious dinner; and, from being drunk warm, it gives a soothing stimulus to the stomach of the drunkard: but, however agreeable may be its immediate flavour, the ultimate effects are debility and nervous diseases. There may be conditions of health, indeed, where tea can do no harm, such as in the strong and athletic; but it is particularly hurtful to the female constitution, to all persons who possess the hereditary predisposition to dyspepsia, and all diseases with which it is associated, to gout, and to those who are naturally weak-nerved. Fine tea, where the narcotic quality seems to be concentrated, when taken in a strong infusion, by persons not accustomed to it, excites nausea and vomiting, tremors, cold sweats, vertigo, dimness of sight, and confusion of thought. I have known a number of men and women subject to nervous complaints, who could not use tea in any form without feeling a sudden increase of all their unpleasant symptoms; particularly acidity of the stomach, vertigo, and dimness of the eyes. As the use of this article of diet extends among the lower orders of the communityand the labouring poor, it must do the more harm. A man or a woman who has to go through much toil and hardship has need of substantial nourishment; but that is not to be obtained from an infusion of tea. And if the humble returns of their industry are expended in this leaf, what remains for the purchase of food better adapted to labour? In this case tea becomes hurtful, not only from its narcotic quality, but because that quality acts with double force in a body weakened from other causes. This certainly is one great reason for the increased and increasing proportion of nervous, bilious, spasmodic, and stomach complaints, &c. appearing among the lower ranks of life.”
It is well known that tea is frequently resorted to by literary men to keep them awake during their lucubrations. Dr. Cullen said he never could take it without feeling gouty symptoms; and we frequently see aged females, who are in the habit of taking strong green tea, subject to paralytic affections. Many experienced physicians, such as Grimm, Crugerus, Wytt, Murray, Letsom, condemn the abuse of the plant as highly dangerous.[25]That it is a most powerful astringent we well know; and the hands of the Chinese who are employed in its preparation are shrivelled, and, to all appearance, burned with caustic. Chemists have extracted from it an astringent liquor containing tannin and gallic acid. This liquor, injected in the veins or under the integuments of frogs, produces palsy of the posterior extremities, and, applied to the sciatic nerve for half an hour, has occasioned death.
There is no doubt that tea acts differently on various individuals. In some it is highly stimulant and exhilarating; in others its effects are oppression and lowness of spirits; and I have known a person who could never indulge in this beverage without experiencing a disposition to commit suicide, and nothing could arouse him from this state of morbid excitement but the pleasure of destroying something, books, papers, or any thing within his reach. Under no other circumstances than this influence of tea were these fearful aberrations observed. It has been remarked that all tea-drinking nations are essentially of a leucophlegmatic temperament, predisposed to scrofulous and nervous diseases. The Chinese, even the degraded Tartar races amongst them, are weak and infirm, their women subject to various diseases arising from debility.Although their confined mode of living, and want of the means of enjoying pure air and exercise, materially tends to render them liable to these affections; still their immoderate use of strong green tea, taken, it is true, in very small quantities at the time, but repeatedly, greatly adds to this predisposition.
From long experience I am convinced that, although tea may in general be considered a refreshing and harmless beverage, yet in some peculiar cases it is decidedly injurious; and many diseases that have baffled all medical exertions, have yielded to the same curative means so soon as the action of tea had been suspended.
Self-styled wandering Turks and Armenians are frequently met with in crowded cities vending rhubarb, tooth-powder, and various drugs and nostrums, exciting the curiosity of the idlers that group around them, by exhibiting a root bearing a strong resemblance to the human form. This is the far-famed mandragore, of which such wonderful accounts have been related by both ancients and moderns.
This plant is theAtropa Mandragoraof Linnæus, and grows wild in the mountainous and shaded parts of Italy, Spain, and the Levant, where it is also cultivated in gardens. The root bears such a likeness, at least in fancy’s eyes, to our species, that it was calledSemi-homo. Hence says Columella,
Quamvis semihominis vesano gramine fœtaMandragora pariat flores mœstamque cicutam.
The wordvesanoclearly refers to the supposed power it possessed of exciting delirium. It was also namedCircæa, from its having been one of the mystic ingredients employed in Circe’s spells; although the wonderful mandragore was ineffectual against the more powerful herb theMoly, which Ulysses received from Mercury. This human resemblance of the root, which is, moreover, of a blackish hue and hairy, inspired the vulgar with the idea that it was nothing less than a familiar dæmon. It was gathered with curious rites: three times a magic circle was drawn round it with a naked sword; and the person who was daring enough to pluck it from the earth, was subject to manifold dangers and diseases, unlessunder some special protection; therefore it was not unusual to get it eradicated by a dog, fastened to it by a cord, and who was whipped off until the precious root was pulled out. According to Josephus, the plant calledBuaras, which was gifted with the faculty of keeping off evil spirits, was obtained by a similar canine operation. Often, it was asserted, did the mandragore utter piteous cries and groans, when thus severed from mother earth. Albertus the Great affirms that the root has a more powerful action when growing under a gibbet, and is brought to greater perfection by the nourishing secretions that drop from the criminal’s dangling corpse.
Amongst its many wonderful properties, it was said to double the amount of money that was locked up with it in a box. It was also all-powerful in detecting hidden treasures. Most probably the mandragore had bad qualities to underrate its good ones. Amongst these, we must certainly class the blackest ingratitude, since it never seemed to benefit the eloquent advocates of its virtues, who, in general, were as poor as their boasted plant was rich in attraction.
It was also supposed to possess the delightful faculty of increasing population and exciting love; and the Emperor Julian writes to Calixines that he is drinking the juice of mandragore to render him amorous. Hence was it calledLoveapple; and Venus bore the name ofMandragontis. It has been asserted by various scholiasts, that themandrakewhich Reuben found in the fields and carried to his mother, Leah, was the mandragore; theDudaïm, however, which he gathered was not, according to all accounts, an unpleasant fruit, but is supposed to have been a species of orchis, still used in the East in love-philters and prolific potions. The wordDudaïmseems to express a tuberculated plant; and in Solomon’s Songs, he thus describes it: “The mandrakes give a smell, and at our gates are all manner of pleasant fruits, new and old, which I have laid up for thee, O my beloved.” Now it is utterly impossible, whatever may have been the revolution in taste since the days of Solomon, that the nauseous and offensive mandragore could have been considered as a propitiating present to a lady.
The etymology of the wordDudaïmwould seem to describe it. It is derived from the word ררים, (Dadim) breasts, or רורים, (Dodim) friends, neighbours, twins; which indicates that this plant is formed of two similar parts. It is thought that theDudaïmmight be the highly-scented melon which is cultivated in the East, especially in Persia,and known by the name ofDestenbuje, or theCucumis Dudaïmof Linnæus, and which is also found in Italy, where its powerful aroma is imparted to garments and chambers. It must have been an odoriferous production, since in theTalmudwe find it denominatedSiglin, which has been considered the jessamine or the lily. The orchis is remarkable for its double bulbous roots and its agreeable perfume; we may therefore justify the idea that theDudaïmof the Jews was a species of this plant.
Frontinus informs us that Hannibal employed mandragore in one of his warlike stratagems, when he feigned a retreat, and left in the possession of the barbarians a quantity of wine in which this plant had been infused. Intoxicated by the potent beverage, they were unable to withstand his second attack, and were easily put to the sword. Was it the mandragore that saved the Scotch in a similarruse de guerrewith the Danish invaders of Sweno? It is supposed to have been theBelladonna, or deadly nightshade, the effects of which are not dissimilar to those of the plant in question.
In the north of Europe, this substance is still used for medicinal purposes; and Boerhaave, Hoffberg, and Swediaur have strongly recommended it in glandular swellings, arthritic pains, and various diseases where a profuse perspiration may be desirable.
Machiavel has made the fabulous powers of the mandragore the subject of a comedy, and Lafontaine has employed it as an agent in one of his tales.
Another root that excited superstitious phantasies and reverential awe, from its supposed resemblance to the human form, was the Gin-seng, a Chinese production, which, according to the author of theKao-li-tchi-tsan, or Eulogium of the Kingdom of Corea, “imitates the configuration of man and the efficacy of spiritual comfort, possessing hands and feet like a human being, and the mental virtues that no one can easily comprehend.” According to Jartoux,Gin-sengsignifies “the representation of man.” It appears, however, that the learned father was in error.Jin, it is true, signifiesman; butChendoes not mean representation, but aternary body. HenceGin-sengsignifies theternary of man, making three with man and heaven!—no doubt some superstitious tradition, since this root bears various names in other countries, that plainly denote the veneration in which it was held. In Japan it is calledNindsin, andOrkhodain the Tatar-Mandchou language, both of which mean “the queenof plants.” Father Lafitau informs us that the name ofGarent-oguenof the Iroquois, which it also bears, means thethighs of man. TheGin-sengis a native of Tartary, Corea, and also thrives in Canada, Virginia, and Pennsylvania, in shaded and damp situations, as it soon perishes under the solar rays. The Chinese attach considerable value to it. Thunberg informs us that it sometimes is sold for forty pounds a pound; and Osbeck states that in his time it was worth twenty-four times its weight in silver. This enormous price frequently induced foreign smugglers to bring it into the Chinese territory; but the severest laws were enacted to punish this fraudulent traffic. The Tartars alone possess the privilege of cultivating and collecting it; and the districts that produce this precious plant are surrounded with palisades, and strictly guarded. In 1707, the Emperor of China, to increase his revenue, sent a body of ten thousand troops to collect the gin-seng. According to the Chinese physicians, this root possesses the faculty of renovating exhausted constitutions, giving fresh vigour, raising the drooping moral and physical faculties, and restoring to health andembonpointthe victim of debauchery. It is also said that a bit of the root chewed by a man running a race will prevent his competitor from getting the start of him. It is somewhat singular that the same property is attributed to garlic; and the Hungarian jockeys frequently tie a clove of it to their racers’ bits, when the horses that run against them fall back the moment they breathe the offensive odour. It has been proved that no horse will eat in a manger if the mouth of any other steed in the stable has been rubbed with the juice of this plant. I had occasion to ascertain this fact. A horse of mine was in the same stall with one belonging to a brother officer; mine fell away and refused his food, while his companion throve uncommonly well. I at last discovered that a German groom, who had charge of the prosperous animal, had recourse to this vile stratagem. It is also supposed that men who eat garlic knock up upon a march the soldiers who have not made use of it. Hence, in the old regulations of the French armies, there existed an order to prohibit the use of garlic when troops were on a march.
No consideration should render man more thankful to his Creator, and justly proud of the progress of human intellect, than the perfection to which the art of surgery has been carried. In its present improved condition, we are struck with horror at the perusal of the ancient practice, and marvel that its barbarity did not sooner induce its professors to diminish the sum of misery it inflicted on their victims. Ignorance, and its offspring Superstition, seemed to sanctify this darkness. Improvement was considered as impious and unnecessary; and to deny the powers of the chirurgical art, heresy against the holy men, who alone were permitted to exercise it.
This supposed divine attribute of the priesthood can be traced to remote ages: Æsculapius was son of Apollo, and princes and heroes did not consider the art of surgery beneath their dignity. Homer has illustrated the skill of Podalirius and Chiron; and Idomeneus bids Nestor to mount his chariot with Machaon, who alone was more precious than a thousand warriors; while we find Podalirius, wrecked and forlorn on the Carian coast, leading to the altar the daughter of the monarch whom he cured, and whose subjects raised a temple to his memory, and paid him divine honours.
Tradition informs us, that in the infancy of the art all its branches were exercised indiscriminately by the medical practitioners. It was not then supposed that the human body was subject to distinct affections, external and internal; yet, as its study advanced, the ancients were led into an opposite extreme, and we find that in Egypt each disease became the province of a special attendant, regulated in his treatment by the sacred records handed down by their hierarchy.
Herodotus informs us, that “so wisely was medicine managed by the Egyptians, that no physician was allowed to practise any but his own peculiar branch.” Accouchments were exclusively the province of females.
These practitioners were remunerated by the state; and they were severely punished, when, by any experimental trials, they deviated from the prescribed rules imposed uponthem, and, in the event of any patient dying under a treatment differing from the established practice, the medical attendant was considered guilty of a capital offence. These wise provisions were made, says Diodorus, in the full conviction that few persons were capable of introducing any new treatment superior to that which had been sanctioned and approved by old practitioners.
Pliny complains that no such laws existed in Rome, where a physician was the only man who could commit murder with impunity; “Nulla præterea lex,” he says, “quæ puniat inscitium capitalem, nullum exemplum vindictæ. Discunt periculis nostris, et experimenta per mortes agunt: medicoque tantum hominem occidisse impunitas summa est.”
By one of these singular anomalies in public opinion, this supposed divine science was soon considered an ignoble profession. In Rome it was chiefly practised by slaves, freedmen, or foreigners. From the overthrow of the Roman empire till the revival of literature and the arts in Europe, medicine and surgery sought a refuge amongst the Arabians, who studied both branches in common; for, though exiled to the coast of Africa in point of scientific cultivation, it was necessarily cultivated in other countries, and in the greater part of Europe became the exclusive right of ecclesiastics. In time, however, it was gradually wrested from their hands by daily necessities; and every one, even amongst the lowest classes, professed himself a surgeon, and the cure of the hurt and the lame was intrusted to menials and women.
As the church could no longer monopolize the art of healing, it became expedient to stigmatize it, although that very faculty had but lately been their boast; but it had fallen within the powers of vulgar and profane comprehension, and therefore was useless to maintain sacerdotal pre-eminence. In 1163, the Council of Tours, held by Pope Alexander III., maintained that the devil, to seduce the priesthood from the duties of the altar, involved them in mundane occupations, which, under the plea of humanity, exposed them to constant and perilous temptations. The edict not only prohibited the study both of medicine and law amongst all that had taken religious vows, but actually excommunicated every ecclesiastic who might infringe the decree. It appears, however, that the temptations of the evil one were still attractive, as Pope Honorius III., in 1215, was obliged to fulminate a fresh anathema on transgressors, with an additional canon, ordaining that, as the church abhorred all cruel or sanguinarypractices, not only no priest should be allowed the practice of surgery, but should refuse their benediction to all who professed it.[26]
The practice then fell into the hands of laymen, although priests, still regretting the advantages that it formerly had yielded them, were consulted in their convents or houses; and when patients could not visit them without exposing them to clerical censure, they asserted their ability to cure diseases by the mere inspection of the patient’s dejections; and so much faith was reposed in this filthy practice, that Henry II. decreed that upon the complaints of the heirs of persons who died through the fault of their physicians, the latter should suffer capital punishment, as having been the cause of their patient’s death, unless they had scientifically examined what was submitted to their investigation by the deceased’s relatives or domestics: and then proceeded to prescribe for the malady.
Unable to quit their cloisters, in surgical cases, which could not be so easily cured at a distance, sooner than lose the emoluments of the profession, they sent their servants, or rather the barbers of the community, who shaved, andbled, and drew teeth in their neighbourhood ever since the clergy could no longer perform these operations, on the plea of the maxim “Ecclesia abhorret à sanguine;” bleeding and tooth-drawing being, I believe, the only cases where this maxim was noticed. From this circumstance arose the barber craft or barber-surgeons.
These practitioners, from their various avocations, were necessarily dexterous; for, in addition to the skill required for good shaving, tonsurating the crowns of clerical heads was a delicate operation; and it was about this period that Pope Alexander III. revised the canon issued by the synod of Carthage respecting the tonsure of the clergy. Surgery being thus degraded, the separation between its practice and that of medicine became unavoidable, and the two branches were formally made distinct by bulls of Boniface VI. and Clement V.
St. Louis, who had witnessed the services of surgeons in the field of battle during the crusades, had formed a college orconfrérieof surgeons, in honour of St. Cosme and St. Damian, in 1268; and wounds and sores were dressedgratisin the churches dedicated to those saints on the first Monday of every month. To this body, of course, the barber-surgeons, orfratersof the priests, who had not received any regular education, did not belong. Hence arose the distinction, which even to the present day obtains in various parts of the Continent, where surgeons are divided into two classes,—those who had gone through a regular course of studies, and those who, without any academical education, were originally employed as the servants of the priests and barbers. So late as the year 1809, one of my assistants in the Portuguese army felt much hurt at my declining his offer to shave me; and in 1801, some British assistant-surgeons, who had entered the Swedish navy, were ordered to shave the ship’s company, and were dismissed the service in consequence of their refusal to comply with this command.
But to return to our barbers.—These ambitious shavers gradually attempted to glean in the footsteps of the regular chirurgeons, and even to encroach upon their domain, by performing more important operations than phlebotomy and tooth-drawing; the audacious intruders were therefore very properly brought upex officioby the attorney-general of France, and forbidden to transgress the boundaries of their art, until they had been duly examined by master chirurgeons; although these said masters were not better qualified thanmany of the barbers. Such was their ignorance indeed, that Pitard, an able practitioner, who had successively been the surgeon of St. Louis, Philip the Brave, and Philip the Fair, obtained a privilege to examine and grant licences to such of these masters who were fit to practise, without which licence all practitioners were liable to be punished by the provost of Paris; and in 1372 barbers were only allowed to dress boils, bruises, and open wounds.
Although this account chiefly refers to France and its capital, yet the same distinction and division between surgeons and barbers prevailed in almost every other country; and privileges were maintained with as much virulence and absurdity as the present controversial bickerings between physicians and surgeons.
In 1355 these master-surgeons constituted a faculty, which pocketed one-half of the penalties imposed upon the unlucky wights who had not the honour of belonging to their body. They also enjoyed various immunities and exemptions; amongst others, that of not keeping guard and watch in the city of Paris. To increase their emoluments, they granted as many honorary distinctions as they could in decency devise, and introduced the categories of bachelors, licentiates, masters, graduates, and non-graduates of surgery. The medical faculty now began to complain of the encroachments of the master-surgeons on their internal domain of poor mortality with as much bitterness as the masters complained of the impertinent invasion on the part of the barbers, of their external dominion. To court the powerful protection of the university against these interlopers, the surgeons consented to be considered as the scholars of the medical faculty, chiefly governed by clerical physicians.
In 1452 a fresh source of dissension arose amongst clerical physicians, lay physicians, master surgeons, and barbers. Cardinal Etoutville abolished the law which bound the physicians of the university to celibacy, when, to use the historian’s words, “many of the clerical physicians, thinking there was more comfort to be found in a wife without a benefice than could be expected in a benefice without a wife, abandoned the priesthood, and were then permitted to visit their patients at their own houses.” Thus thrown into the uncontrolled practice of medicine, these physicians became jealous of the influence of the surgeons, to whom they had been so much indebted; and they had recourse to every art and manœuvre that priestcraft could devise to oppress and degrade them. To aid this purpose, they resorted to thebarbers, whom they instructed in private, to enable them to oppose the master-surgeons more effectually. The surgeons, indignant at this protection, had recourse to the medical faculty, supplicating them to have the barbers shorn of their rising dignity. Thus for mere motives of pecuniary interest, and the evident detriment of society, did these intriguing practitioners struggle for power and consequent fees; and, according to the vacillation of their interests, the barbers became alternately the allies of the physicians or the mercenary skirmishers of the surgeons.
From this oppression of the art, for nearly three centuries surgery was considered a degrading profession. Excluded from the university, not only were surgeons deprived of all academic honours and privileges, but subjected to those taxes and public burdens from which the members of the university, being of the clerical order, were exempted. This persecution not only strove to injure them in a worldly point of view, but the priests carried their vindictive feelings to such a point of malignity that when Charles IX. was about to confer the rites of apostolical benediction upon the surgeons of the long robe, the medical faculty interposed on the plea of their not being qualified to receive this benediction, as they did not belong to any of the four faculties of the university; and as the chancellor, or any other man, had not the power of conferring a blessing without the pope’s permission and special mandate, both surgeons and barbers ought to be irrevocably damned. The apostolical benediction in those days was considered of great value, since it exempted all candidates from examination in anatomy, medicine, surgery, or any other qualification, when they applied for a degree.
Ever since the healing art ceased to be a clerical privilege, and a state of rivalry prevailed between spiritual and corporeal doctors, the former have sought to represent their opponents as infidels and atheists—the unbelief of physicians became prevalent, and to this day medical men are generally considered freethinkers;—an appellation which in a strictly correct acceptation might be considered more complimentary than opprobrious, since it designates a man, who extricating his intellectual faculties from the meshes of ignorance or prejudices, takes the liberty of thinking for himself.
Sir Thomas Brown in his “Religio Medici,” alludes to this injurious opinion entertained of medical men, when he says, “For my religion, though there be several circumstances that might persuade the world I have none at all,as the general scandal of my profession, the natural course of my studies,the indifferency of my behaviour and discourse in matters of religion—yet in despite thereof, I dare, without usurpation, assume the honourable style of Christian.”
Sir Kenelm Digby in his observations on the work from which the above is extracted, entertains a similar opinion, and quotes Friar Bacon in support of it. The following are his words: “Those students who busy themselves much with such notions as reside wholly in the fantasy, do hardly ever become idoneous for abstracted metaphysical speculations; the one having bulky foundations of matter, or of the accidents of it, to settle upon—at the least with one foot; the other flying continually, even to a lessening pitch in the subtile air. And accordingly it hath been generally noted, that the excellent mathematicians, who converse altogether with lines, figures, and other differences of quantity, have seldom proved eminent in metaphysics or speculative divinity. Nor again, the profession of their sciences in other arts, much less can it be expected that an excellent physician, whose fancy is always fraught with the material drugs that he prescribeth his apothecary to compound his medicines of, and whose hands are inured to the cutting up, and eyes to the inspection of anatomized bodies, should easily and with success ply his thoughts at so towering a game, as a pure intellect, or separated and unbodied soul.”
That such ideas should be maintained in former days, when bigotry and prejudice reigned paramount, we cannot be surprised; but one must marvel to see a modern and intelligent annotator of Brown’s work,[27]coincide in this illiberal opinion, in the following terms:
“Imaginative men, that is, persons in whom the higher attributes of genius are found, seldom delight in the sciences conversant with mere matter or form; least of all in medicine, the object of which is the derangement, or imperfection of nature, and the endeavour to substitute order and harmony in the place of their opposites. Brought thus chiefly into contact with diseased organization, surrounded by the worst elements of civil society, (for their experience must in general be among the intemperate and the vicious,) they may be said to exist in an infected moral atmosphere, and it is therefore not greatly to be wondered at that among such persons a highly religious frame of mind should be the exception and not the rule.”
The absurdity of this observation can only be equalled byits extreme illiberality. Can it be for one moment entertained, that the physician who gives his care to every class of society and at all ages “exists in an infected moral atmosphere?” Supposing that he is not fortunate enough to attend upon the opulent and the great, and is limited to a pauper or an hospital practice, does Mr. St. John mean to say that instances of intemperance and vice are confined to the indigent, although want of education, and poverty may degrade them in crapulous pursuits? If there does exist a profession pre-eminent for its philanthropic character, and the power of discrimination between good and evil, and right and wrong, it is undoubtedly that of medicine. The finest feelings of humanity are constantly brought to bear, both in seeking to relieve bodily sufferings and solacing an afflicted mind—whether it be with the scalpel in hand in an anatomical theatre, or by the bedside of an agonized sufferer, whom he hopes, under Providence, to restore to health and to his family, the physician has daily opportunities of beholding the wonders of the creation and the benevolence of the Creator—he is a constant witness of the fervent supplication of the unfortunate and the heartfelt gratitude of those suppliants at the throne of mercy, whose prayers have been heard. A man of exalted benevolence (and such a physician ought to be), he must be alive to all the generous feelings of humanity, and he is doomed more frequently to move in aninfected moral atmosphere, when gratuitously attending some of the troublesome and pedantic legislators of the republic of letters, than when exerting his skill to relieve the grateful poor who may fall under his care.
It has been maintained that the physician seeking in the arcana of nature the causes of every vital phenomenon becomes a materialist: nothing can be more unjust, nay, more absurd, than such a supposition. The study of physiology teaches us, more perhaps then any other pursuit, to admire the wonderful works of our Creator, and Voltaire has beautifully illustrated the fact in the following lines:
Demandez à Sylva par quel secret mystèreCe pain, cet aliment dans mon corps digéré,Se transforme en un lait doucement préparé;Comment, toujours filtré dans des routes certaines,En longs ruisseaux de pourpre il court enfler mes veines;A mon corps languissant donne un pouvoir nouveau,Fait palpiter mon cœur et penser mon cerveau;Il lève au ciel les yeux, il s’incline, il s’écrieDemandez le àce Dieuqui m’a donnez la vie.
Broëseche has justly said,Tanta est inter deum, religionem,et medicum connexio, ut sine Deo et religione nullus exactus medicus esse queat; and it has truly been said by a later writer, “that a philosophic physician must seek in religion, strength of mind to support the painful exertions of his profession, and some consolation for the ingratitude of mankind.”
Amongst the many glaring absurdities which retarded the progress of medical studies, one cannot but notice the presumptuous claims of the physicians to the exclusive privilege of teaching surgery to their pupils, while anatomy was solely professed by surgeons, and not considered necessary in the instruction of a physician. All these anomalies can be easily traced to that spirit of dominion, exclusion, and monopoly, which invariably characterized clerical bodies. To such a pitch was this destructive practice carried, that surgeons were only allowed to perform operations in the presence of one or more physicians: nor were they permitted to publish any work on their profession until it had been licensed by a faculty who were utterly ignorant of the matter of which it treated. The celebrated Ambrose Paré could only obtain as a special favour from his sovereign, the permission to give to the world one of its most valuable sources of information.
So late as 1726 we find the medical faculty of Paris making a formal representation to Cardinal de Noailles and the curates of that capital to prevent surgeons from granting certificates of health or of disease, and this application was grounded on the pious motive of enforcing a more rigid observance of Lent! They further insisted that this indispensable mortification was eluded in consequence of the facility of obtaining certificates that permitted persons stated to be indisposed to eat animal food, eggs, and butter, whence infidelity was making a most alarming progress, threatening the very existence of church and state, and the overthrow of every ancient and glorious institution. The faculty were formally thanked for their pious zeal in the true interests of religion, and the spiritual welfare of their patients; and orders were affixed upon the door of every church, anathematizing all certificates that emanated from the unholy hands of surgeons and barbers.
These unfortunate barbers, although they humbly submitted to the sway of both physicians and surgeons when it suited their purpose, were in turn persecuted by both their allies and alternate protectors; so much so, that the clerical practitioners at one time prohibited them from bleeding, and conferred this privilege upon the bagnio-keepers. From the well-known nature of these establishments, various may be thereasons that led to this patronage, which was clearly an attempt to qualify bagnio-keepers to extend their convenient trade.
At last, in the year 1505, barbers were dignified with the name of surgeons. Their instructions were delivered in their vernacular tongue, until the university again interfered, and ordered that lectures should be delivered in Latin; once more closing alma-mater against illiterate shavers, who were, however, obliged to give a smattering of classical education to their sons destined to wield alternately the razor and the lancet. In 1655, surgeons and barber-surgeons were incorporated in one college; a union which was further confirmed, in 1660, by royal ordonnance, under some limitations, whereby the barbers should not assume the title of licentiates, bachelors, or professors, nor be allowed to wear the honourable gown and cap that distinguished the higher grades of learning. Red caps were in former times given by each barber to his teacher on his being qualified, and gloves to all his fellow-students.
Thus we find that the high state of perfection which the surgical art has attained is solely due to the efforts of industry to free itself from the ignoble trammels of bigotry and prejudice. Intellectual progress has invariably been opposed in every country by those powerful and interested individuals who derived their wealth and influence from the ignorance of society. Corporate bodies monopolizing the exercise of any profession will invariably retard instruction and shackle the energies of the student. It is, no doubt, indispensable that the practice of medicine in all its branches should only be allowed to such persons as are duly qualified; but whenever pecuniary advantages are derived from the grant of the permission, abuses as dishonourable as they are injurious to society will infallibly prevail. In Great Britain the period of study required in medical candidates is by no means sufficient. Five or six years is the very lowest period that should be insisted on; and, when duly instructed, degrees and licences should be conferred without fee, on all applicants, by a board of examiners unprejudiced and disinterested. This mode of granting licences would add to the respectability of the profession, while it would ensure proper attendance to the public. Physicians and surgeons would then become (what to a certain extent the latter are at present, though illegally as far as the laws of the college go), general practitioners, and society would no longer be infested by the swarms of practising apothecaries, who, from the very nature of their education, can only be skilled in making upmedicines, or who must have obtained experience in the lessons taught by repeated failures in their early practice, unless perchance they have stepped beyond the usual confined instruction of their class. The consequences that arise from this fatal system are but too obvious. These men live by selling drugs, which they unmercifully supply, to the material injury of the patient’s constitution. If, after ringing all the changes of their materia medica without causing the church-bell to toll, they find themselves puzzled and bewildered, a physician or a surgeon is called in, and too frequently these practitioners are bound by tacit agreement not to diminish the revenue that the shop produces. If it were necessary to prove the evils that result from the monopolizing powers vested in corporate institutions, the proof might be sought and found in the virulence and jealousy which they evince in resisting reform, from whatever quarter it may be dreaded; and it may be said that too many of the practising apothecaries of the present day stand in the same relative situation in the medical profession as the barbers of olden times.
This faculty of exercising every branch of the profession, however qualified, is of olden date, and we find on the subject the following lines in the writings of Alcuin in the time of Charlemagne:
Accurrunt medici mox Hippocratica tecta:Hic venas findit, herbas hic miscet in olla;Ille coquit pultes, alter sed pocula perfert.