the notion of the existence of a putrescency and dissolution in the blood, he was all the time plied with a round of stimulants and cordials-to say nothing of the perhaps less potent, but more disgusting ingredients with which good care was taken that they should be sufficiently charged, described altogether by a nearly contemporary physician as "Venice treacle, Virginian snakeroot, zedoary, saffron, volatile salt of hartshorn, powder of viper's flesh, and the like!" Now and then it appears the "restorative power" took extreme measures to vindicate its outraged potency. "Luckily," says Sydenham, "it occurs occasionally that, from the preposterous application of external heat and 'inward cordials, the patient becomes delirious, and in a fit of frenzy, escaping from the cruel attention of his nurse, leaps out of bed, lies exposed for many hours to the cool night air, and so recovers.' One case of this kind in particular appears to have made a powerful impression on his mind. A young man at Bristol was seized with the small pox and became delirious. His nurse, having occasion to go out of town, left her patient in the care of others during her absence. Being detained somewhat longer than she expected, the sick person (as it seemed to those about him) gave up the ghost. As the weather was very hot, the body was placed upon a table, covered by a sheet only. The nurse, in the mean time, returned and heard the sad tidings, but, on removing the sheet and looking at the counte

nance, she thought she could perceive some signs of life remaining; and having placed the extended body in bed, the apparently dead man was soon restored, and in a few days recovered perfect health. The practice introduced by Sydenham was the plentiful admission of fresh air, cooling, acid, and diluting drinks in abundance, and in a word, the cool regimen carried into all its details. His own account of the matter is characterised by his accustomed simplicity. The following short sentence describes the grounds on which his judgment was founded, and lets us into the main secret of his success. "I never observed any mischief," says he, " from the other method, for nature left to herself does her work in her own time, and then expels the matter in the right way and manner." Rational, however, as was this mode of treatment, nothing could exceed the opposition it met with, not only from the prejudices of the friends of the sick, but from those of the profession, and a generation passed away before it came at all into repute; and then it was forced upon the attention of the public by an unworthy successor to Sydenham's popularity, who thus advanced the art of medicine far more than by any discoveries of his own." Have you a mind to kill my grandson? Is this the affection you have always expressed for his person? His grandfather and I recovered without any such dangerous experiments as these !" said the Dowager duchess of Beaufort to Dr. Radcliffe, in the most violent consternation and passion ima

ginable, when, upon visiting her grandson, the duke, in the small pox, he ordered the curtains of the bed to be drawn and light to be let into the room; whereas the old lady had directed his grace's windows to be shut in such a manner as almost to deprive the unhappy patient of the means of respiration. The doctor assured her that she must instantly return to her house at Chelsea; on no other condition would he undertake the case, and she would then soon be visited by her son in perfect health. With much difficulty this great lady was persuaded to acquiesce; but she had the satisfaction of seeing her son within the time limited, and completely recovered. The cool regimen about that time came into vogue. The success was Radcliffe's—the merit belonged to Sydenham alone.

In the year 1665, occurred the memorable plague of London. Sydenham remained at his post till about the month of June, not neglecting to profit, we may well imagine, by his opportunities of observation. At this time, the pestilence began to rage so dreadfully that it destroyed, in seven days, as many thousands. In every house were to be heard either the ravings of delirium, the groans of the dying, or the lamentations of relatives, till at length the living were scarcely sufficient in number to perform the rites of burial. "Now," says a contemporary writer, in truly graphic language, "the cloud is very black, and the storm comes down very sharp. Death rides triumphant on

his pale horse through our streets, and breaks into almost every house where the inhabitants are to be found; people fall as thick as leaves from the trees in autumn when shaken by a mighty wind. There is a dismal solitude in London streets; every day looks with the face of a sabbath, observed with a greater solemnity than it used to be in the city. Shops are shut up; people rare, and few that walk about, insomuch that grass begins to grow in some places, and a deep silence in almost every place, especially within the city walls."* The practice which Sydenham adopted was to bleed very largely. For a short period, he removed his family into the country, and himself accompanied them, but he returned so soon, and when the plague still continued so violent, that it could not but be (he observes with his usual modesty) "that by reason of the scarcity of better physicians I should be called in to the assistance of those who had the disease." Thus he witnessed both the beginning and the end of this great distemper.

Sydenham's treatise on the gout has usually been considered a masterpiece of description. It was a disease with which he had an experimental acquaintance from the early age of twenty-five; and he speaks of a fit with which he was seized in 1660, when he was only thirty-six, which was very violent, and continued longer than any preceding attack. Towards the close of life, he was at the same

* "God's terrible Voice in the City."-Vincent.

time troubled with another equally painful complaint the gravel. This complication of disorders made it necessary for him to be attentive to his diet, which he regulated, he informs us, after the following manner. "In the morning, when I rise, I drink a dish or two of tea, and then ride in my coach till noon : when I return I moderately refresh myself with any sort of meat of easy digestion, that I like (for moderation is necessary above all things); I drink somewhat more than a quarter of a pint of Canary wine, immediately after dinner, every day, to promote the digestion of the food in my stomach, and to drive the gout from my bowels. When I have dined I betake myself to my coach again, and, when business will permit, I ride into the country two or three miles for good air. A draught of small

beer is to me instead of a supper, and I take another draught when I am in bed, and about to compose myself to sleep." The treatise in which he gives us this little insight into his ordinary habits-not, it must be confessed, very consonant to the hours or manners of the present day was the last published in his life-time, and he concludes it by observing that he has now given to the world the sum of all which he knew concerning the cure of diseases, up to the day on which he wrote it, namely, the 29th of September, 1686. His work entitled "Processus Integri," the compendious result of all his practical experience, was published after his death. Sydenham is stated to have sup