ARTICLE VI.

A HISTORICAL SKETCH OF MEDICAL PHILOSOPHY.

By Samuel Adams, M. D., Professor of Chemistry and Natural History, Illinois College.

THE most accumulated pressure of physical ills has never yet been able to crush the stern spirit of man. "The spirit of a man will sustain his infirmity." The mind of man has rarely ever in this life sunk to a depth of wo so deep and dark that some ray of hope did not still penetrate and cheer its gloom. Man has ever believed in-has ever hoped for-has ever sought a remedy for every ill that flesh is heir to.

Depressed with sorrow, the mind turns instinctively to some source of consolation. Assailed by adversity, hope seeks to retrieve the disappointments of the present, by the promises of the future. And when misfortune has clouded every prospect for this life, hope arches with her bright rainbow the dark valley of the shadow of death, and bids the soul look to the bright regions of a blissful immortality beyond.

In no instance has this strong tendency, this elastic power of the human mind, been more conspicuous than in its struggles to repel or baffle the assaults of disease. Man has ever sought from the beneficent hand of his Creator, a remedy for all the pains and infirmities that fall to the lot of humanity. Through ages and ages of disappointment, hope has animated and cheered on the struggle with the promise of ultimate success.

We purpose to sketch briefly the history of this contest of the human mind with the grim spectre of disease, to notice in passing the weapons it has used, the difficulties it has encountered, the defeats it has suffered, and the victories it has won ; and, finally, from the history of the past, to derive some practical rules for the guidance of the contest in time to come.

The origin of the medical art furnishes an instructive page in the history of the human mind. Man is impelled by the very constitution of his being, to believe in the existence of supernatural powers; that is, to recognize the being of a God; and he feels himself under the necessity of relying for guidance upon

the powers above, wherever the light of knowledge and reason fails to penetrate. Hence the first efforts of the human mind to penetrate the dark unknown, have ever been a direct appeal to the Deity, to reveal by an especial interposition those secrets which interest our hopes and our fears, or an endeavor to search out some supposed revelation already written by the divine hand, but lying folded among the secret arcana of nature, or perhaps stamped upon the broad face of the starry heavens. Such were the first efforts of the human mind in search of remedies for the maladies that afflict our race. A prey to the frightful ravages of disease, in his ignorance and his weakness, man raised his imploring eyes to heaven, and sought relief from the beneficent powers above. Thus the ministers of religion became the first medical practitioners. History assigns to Egypt the honor of being the birth-place of the medical art; and to the Egyptian priests, that of being the earliest practitioners.

As may be supposed, medicine in the hands of the priesthood consisted rather in the use of mystical rites and ceremonies, than in the rational application of efficient remedies. These selfconstituted mediators between God and man, could not fail to be aware of the advantages which they derived from being the supposed channels of communication, through which the divine blessings flowed to the rest of mankind. Thus they contrived to usurp to themselves all the scientific knowledge of the day, to spread over it such a veil of mystery, and so to entwine it with a tissue of magical arts, as effectually to bar it against the approach of the common mind. Hence their pretended applications of remedies to diseases had for their main object the fostering of the confidence of the people in themselves. And if in any instances remedies of real value happened to be administered, they were supposed to derive their efficacy from the mystical ceremonies employed in their preparation, rather than from any inherent powers of their own.

Such was the practice of medicine throughout the world till after the time of Pythagoras, who lived in the sixth century before the Christian era. This extraordinary man, after having availed himself of all the advantages for an education which Greece then afforded, is said to have spent a long time in Egypt and Chaldea, where he succeeded in gaining the confidence of the priests, and through them became learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians. With a mind thus stored he returned to Europe, and finally established himself at Crotona, in Italy. The

labors of Pythagoras in this place, form an important era in the history of the human mind. Instead of forming at Crotona a sacerdotal clique to practise upon the vulgar credulity, he established a public school of philosophy, at which he gave lectures on all the branches of knowledge then extant. It is true, that much of his philosophy was tinged with the mystical hues of its original source. But knowledge was no longer kept a secret as the peculiar privilege of the favored few. Free discussion was at length established. Truth, at last, was allowed to walk in the free air and open day-light, no longer condemned to breathe the mephitic damps of the dark dens of superstition. Thus history assigns to Pythagoras the honor of having done more than any of his predecessors to rescue science from the trammels of superstition, and of having first given to the world a worthy example of that philosophic enlargement of mind, which, stripping truth of its chains and fetters, boldly trusts its safe-keeping to the universal reason of man.

Such an example could not fail to rouse the human mind and embolden its search after truth, wherever the Greek language was known. Great numbers from Italy and Greece flocked to his lectures, who became the future rulers and philosophers of those countries. The art of medicine, (for it could not then be called a science,) received a healthful impulse from this rousing of the Grecian mind. The practice of medicine in Greece had been hitherto confined to the temples of Esculapius, and all its extant records were concealed within their walls. Men had learned from Pythagoras, that scientific knowledge was not the especial gift of divine inspiration, but the common birthright of every rational mind. Medicine could not plead an exemption from the application of the principles of free inquiry which were abroad. Hippocrates of Cos first responded to the claims of the age, and subjected medical knowledge to the principles of scientific investigation. Himself a favored descendant of Esculapius, and an inmate of one of his temples, he set the noble example of despising the petty gains of priestly artifice and concealment, and gave to the world in a scientific form all that was then known of medicine, comprising many valuable additions which were the result of the application of his own powerful intellect. Medicine then for the first time became a science. Would that it had ever continued to be cultivated as such! But unfortunately for its subsequent history, the noble example of Hippocrates has not always been followed by the

cultivators of the healing art. It is not difficult at the present day to identify the successors of the ancient priesthood, among the inventors of quack nostrums, as well as among some pompous pretenders styling themselves regular practitioners.

At the time when Hippocrates wrote, medical facts were too scanty, and the philosophy of nature too imperfect, to admit of any complete scientific generalization. Hippocrates, accordingly, though possessing a mind essentially practical, fell into the great error of his age, that of substituting hypotheses for scientific principles based upon facts. The disciples of Hippocrates, however, pushed theory and hypothesis to an extreme which was not at all justified by the example of their master. Thus arose what has been called the dogmatic sect in medicine.

As one extreme usually produces another, there naturally arose an opposing sect, called the empirical. While the dogmatists contended that theory was the only basis of medical knowledge and practice, the empirics maintained that observation and experience were the only safe guides.

It is important to guard against confounding the terms dogmatism and empiricism, as applied to the ancient sects in philosophy, with their use in common language. The former is derived from the Greek word dogma, an opinion, that which seems true, and applies to the partisans of theory and hypothesis; the latter is from empeiria, experience, and applies to those who, discarding theory, profess to limit themselves to the observation of facts.

Out of these two sects there arose a third, styled the methodical, which was a sort of compromise between the other two, and professed to combine the advantages of both, free from their extravagances and errors. The methodics derived their name from their attempt to classify diseases into a methodical arrangement, based upon their observed analogies.

Next arose the sect of the pneumatics or spiritualists. The spiritualists derived their name from their admitting, in addition to the solids and fluids of the body, the existence of an etherial element called the spirits, or animal spirits. They supposed that health and disease depended upon the relation and proportion of this hypothetical element to the other elements of the body. Several expressions in common language have grown out of this theory, such as "high spirits," "low spirits," "flow of spirits," &c.

A century or two later sprang up the sect of the calectics, so

called from their attempt to select what was true from each of the preceding systems, and to combine it in a harmonious whole.

This was the last sect that made its appearance before that palsy of the human mind, which characterized the dark ages. The Christian religion had been introduced to the world by the humble and self-denying labors of Jesus and his apostles. Only a few centuries had elapsed, however, before the ministers of this benign religion had degenerated into an ambitious priesthood, who pretended that the benefits of the gospel could alone bless the human race, through the medium of certain rites and ceremonies, which could only be administered by themselves. To establish this monstrous claim, it became necessary, first to mould human opinion to suit their own purposes, and then to stereotype human thought by superinducing a death-like paralysis over the free spirit of man. The priesthood were able to accomplish this, by taking advantage of that "fearful looking for of judgment," which naturally haunts the sinful mind. They accordingly made it an unpardonable offence to think or believe, except in obedience to their own dictation. The pangs of guilt could alone be removed and pardon secured, by the mediation of the priests; and this mediation could only be obtained by the most abject surrender of freedom of thought and opinion to the tyrannical claims of the priesthood. Thus, men were taught, not to fear God, but to dread the wrath of the priests. The result need not be described. Science perished from the earth. Medicine did not escape the universal wreck. The priests became again the dispensers of life and health. Suffering humanity was condemned to seek relief from the pains and infirmities of disease in the dens of monkish superstition. The principal remedies in the hands of the monks, were mystical rites, absurd ceremonies, holy relics, charms, and incantations.

Such was medicine, such was science, during the dark ages; a period so dark, so foul with all that is loathsome in vice, so reeking with the blood of murdered innocence, that the mind is almost tempted to regard its history as a reproach to the providence of God. If it be possible to bring to light the mystery of Providence that lies buried here, it would seem to have been one design of God, to teach, by way of contrast, the great lesson of freedom of thought and tolerance of opinion, and to put to eternal shame all subsequent efforts to chain the human mind.

Some may object to our philosophy of this period of history,