THEISM IN ITS RELATION TO MEDICINE AND IN ITS STRUGGLE WITH THE PHYSICO-MECHANICAL THEORY OF LIFE

As we explained in Chapter I., the development of all peoples has passed through a period during which medico-physical knowledge found expression exclusively in the teachings of religion. By theism we mean the system which endeavors to explain natural phenomena by supernatural causes. However, this view of nature, with its tinge of religion, did not as yet show any trace of superstition. It was rather the only justifiable conception of nature and thoroughly in keeping with the power of comprehension of man, until it began to dawn upon the mind that natural phenomena might be due to natural causes. This was the period of which we stated, in the beginning of this investigation, that faith became superstition and superstition became faith. It was during this time that the powers above were held accountable for all bodily ailments of mankind. It was their task most carefully to observe the functional processes of the human body in all its phases, and to protect their undisturbed continuance. But as the inhabitants of heaven, like the inhabitants of the earth, were subject to whims, it happened very often, unfortunately, that they attended to their task of protecting the undisturbed development of the vegetative as well as the animal functions of the body in a very unsatisfactory manner, sometimes, in fact, even purposely neglecting it. Thus disturbances occurred in the regular course of organic life, and this brought diseases into the world. If, therefore, the gods were directly responsible for the appearance of disease, it was palpably their duty to effect its elimination. Thus it came about that pathology and therapy were exclusively attended to by the gods. But in what light they regarded these medical duties of theirs, and how they performed them, were matters subject to very varying considerations, as expounded by the different religions of antiquity. The Babylonian considered the great god Marduk the expeller of all maladies, whereas Urugal, Namtor, and Nergal were recognized gods of pestilence.

Similar ideas prevailed among the Egyptians. The cat-headed goddess Bubastis was believed to deal out to mothers the blessings of fertility. Ibis showed an especial interest in those human beings who were troubled with disturbances of digestion, and this interest found benevolent expression in the invention of the clyster.

With the Greeks also the gods rendered services to diseased humanity. Thus Apollo invented the art of healing, and if his time permitted he occasionally lent a hand when difficulties beset the entrance into this world of a young mortal. But, as a rule, it was the duty of Aphrodite to attend to such cases, just as, in fact, she was responsible for everything that referred to love, no matter whether it was a question of the esthetic or the pathological part of that passion. Athene was the specialist in ophthalmology, and it seems that she did not fare badly with this occupation. A temple was dedicated to her by Lycurgus, whom, as it appears, she healed of a sympathetic affection of the eyes; and, besides, she won by her ophthalmological activity various ornamental epithets, such, for instance, as ?f?a??t??, etc.

It was quite natural, in view of the exclusively theistic conception which in those times preoccupied the human mind, that the priests were the sole possessors of physico-medical knowledge; and naturally so. For when we consider the theory of life that prevailed at that period, who could have been better qualified to give information to men regarding their own body as well as regarding nature in general, than the priest, the mortal representative of immortal gods? And who better qualified than the priest to invoke the aid of the heavenly powers in all bodily ailments? Thus it was the unavoidable consequence of the theistic theory of life that the priest was the physician as well as the representative of physical knowledge and also the helper and adviser in all mundane exigencies. Whether bodily or psychic troubles afflicted individuals, whether an entire population groaned under heavy chastisements like pestilence, aid and deliverance were always sought in the sanctuary of the gods, from the infallible priest. And the priests were always equal to the occasion; they have always, in a masterly manner, known the art of satisfying the medico-physical needs of their suppliants. For the religions of all civilized peoples—and Christianity by no means occupies an exceptional position in this respect—have always endeavored most strenuously to keep physical as well as medical thought in strictest dependence upon their doctrines and dogmas. To attain this end various ceremonies, customs, and dogmas were relied upon to keep the priests in a position to secure the assistance of the gods for humanity harassed by pain and affliction. These sacred observances were strange, and varied with the various religious systems. According to the primeval cult of Zoroaster, all evils, consequently also all diseases, were derived from the principle of darkness which was embodied in the person of Ahriman, and only the sacerdotal caste of the magicians who sprung from a special Median tribe was able to heal them. But it was by no means easy to become a member of this caste and to acquire the magic powers pertaining to it alone. It was necessary before gaining mastery over the powers of nature to become initiated into the mysteries of Mitra. However, after priestly consecration had once been bestowed, the individual thus honored bore the proud title “Conqueror of Evil,” and was able to practise medicine. As the most essential constituent of every medical treatment, the divine word was applied in the form of mysterious exorcisms, sacred hymns, and certain words which were considered specially curative in effect, particularly the word “Ormuzd,” the name of the highest god, in whose all-embracing power of healing great confidence was placed.

The Sumerians, the precursors of Babylonico-Assyrian culture, ascribed a considerable and important rÔle to dreams. They were considered to bring direct medical advice from the gods, and it became the office of the sacerdotal physician to interpret the dream in such a way as to alleviate the sufferings of the dreamer.

The ancient Greek culture also conceded a conspicuous medical significance to dreams, and even arranged a system of its own, that of the temple sleep, in order always to obtain prophesying dreams from the gods. The patient, after the obligatory offering, was required to remain a night in the temple, and his dream during this night was the medical advice of the divinity in its most direct form. But only the priest was able to interpret a dream obtained in such a manner, and to extract medical efficacy from it. But as it occasionally happened that a too prosaic and phlegmatic patient did not dream at all, the priest was benevolent enough to intercede. He was always promptly favored by the gods with a suggestive dream.

The medical function of the priests had reached a peculiar development during the first centuries of Rome. This was manifest especially in the time of public calamities, such as pestilence, war, etc. When such events reached dimensions which threatened the existence of the republic, attempts were made to gain the favor of the gods by most curious ceremonies. The celestials were simply invited to take part in an opulent banquet. The first divine feast of such a character was celebrated in Rome in the sixth century, B.C., on account of a great epidemic. Apollo, Latona, Diana, Hercules, Mercury, and Neptune were most ceremoniously invited to take part in a religious banquet which lasted for eight days. The images of the gods were placed upon magnificently cushioned couches, and the tables were loaded with dainties. Not only the gods, but the entire population, were invited; every one kept open house, and whoever wished to do so could feast at the richly prepared boards of the wealthy. Even the pronounced enemies of the house were allowed to enter and to enjoy the dainties without fear of hostile remarks; indeed, it was deemed advisable in the interests of public hygiene to unchain the prisoners and to liberate them. But if the gods, in spite of the most opulent entertainments, did not have any consideration, and if pestilence, military disaster, failure of crops, or whatever was the immediate cause of popular anxiety, continued to persist with unabated fury, endeavors were made by theatrical performances to provide as much as possible for the amusement of the gods. Such plays, at first, consisted only in graceful dances, with flute accompaniments, and from these simple beginnings, according to Livy, Book 7, Chapter II., the drama is said to have developed all those variations which characterized the scenic art of antiquity. There can be no doubt that even the stage of modern times is of religio-sanitary origin—a peculiar fact which modern patrons of the theater scarcely ever dream of.

An attempt was eventually made to increase the delight of the gods in such amusements by a number of novel devices. For instance, it was stipulated that the performances instituted to ward off the invasion of Hannibal were to cost 333,333? copper asses. But if, nevertheless, the gods were not sufficiently propitiated by banquets, dances, and playing of the flute, and if they could not be prevailed upon by such pastimes to remove the pestilence or other calamity, a dictator was named who, if possible, on September 13th, drove a nail into the temple of Jupiter to appease divine indignation. It appears that this was a primeval custom of the Etruscans; at least, it is reported by the Roman author, Cincius, that such nails could be seen in the temple of the Etruscan goddess Nortia. This nail therapy was resorted to by the Romans, for instance, during the terrible plague which raged in the fifth century, B.C., and of which the celebrated Furius Camillus died.

Wonderful as all the described procedures seem to us, and closely as they may conform to the modern conception of superstition, at the time they originated they were considered as quite removed from that superstition with which we so closely identify them to-day. For the period which saw the above events was an era of exclusive theism, and for that reason divine sleep, divine feasts, the sacred performances, and all the other peculiar means which were employed to secure medical aid of the gods, were well-established features of religious worship. The stigma of superstition was not set upon them as yet. And this state of things naturally persisted so long as the theistic theory of life stood unchallenged.

This absolute reign of theistic theory dominating human life through the above-described therapeutic ideas was followed by an epoch in which theism was forced to divide its authority with a powerful rival—namely, the physico-mechanical theory of life. The struggle between both these systems was ushered in, for the Hellenic as well as for the Occidental world of civilization, by the appearance of Ionian philosophy. Even in our own day this struggle is still going on in many minds. This much, at least, is certain: that superstition has always been especially active in medicine in areas of civilization where the theistic idea has gained the ascendency.

The deadly struggle between theistic and physico-mechanical theories of life in the realm of medicine has found no place in the experience of Hellenic and Roman antiquity. The change in opinion was rather wrought by a gradual recession from the idea that the gods interfered with the proper course of man’s bodily functions. This conviction resulted from a progressive growth of his physico-mechanical knowledge, and became established at least as far as the thoughts and the opinions of the physicians were concerned. That the other classes, in particular the representatives of religion, did not so peaceably acquiesce in this mechanical conception of life we shall soon explain in Chapter III. It was different, however, with the art of healing itself. Even the Corpus Hippocraticum reveals to us a medicine which had been purified from all theistic admixtures, and from the publication of this work (i.e., from about the fifth century, B.C., up to the overthrow of the ancient period—i.e., until about the fifth or sixth century, A.D.) no further attempt to refer the cause of disease and the treatment of disease to the gods of the ancient heavens is noticed in medical works. On the contrary, that great efforts were made to look for the nature of disease in the mechanical conditions of the body is proven by a number of the most various medical doctrines. The extensive work of Galen, that antique canon of medicine, which dates back to the second century, A.D., disavows all theism and all theurgy, and relies solely upon physico-mechanical methods: observation, experiment, dissection. Antique religion and antique medicine had effected a reconciliation—a reconciliation, however, in which neither party was to acknowledge a complete defeat; but the result was an amicable settlement, in which their just dues were given both to the theistic and to the physico-mechanical theories of life. The point of agreement upon which this settlement, or, to express it better, compromise, was made was teleology.

By teleology we understand the conception that all earthly existence is created by a supreme power in accordance with a preconceived plan, and that, accordingly, all organic life, in form and action, is most perfectly adapted to the task prescribed for it by this power. This conception was absolutely indispensable to antique medicine; for it allowed the adherents of the theistic theory without hesitation to consider man as a product of the creator, which was distinguished in all directions and which bore witness of the wisdom of God, a position which precluded the assumption, which was impossible according to the antecedent medical observations, that disease came from God. For it seemed quite plausible, according to the physico-mechanical theory of life, that disease might be a product of a number of adverse, purely earthly conditions, an assumption not involving the slightest doubt of the wisdom and creative power of the gods. This teleological doctrine, which runs like a red thread through all ancient philosophy, becomes conspicuously prominent in Galen. Every section of the powerful work of Galen—anatomy, as well as physiology, pathology, and therapy—bear witness to the most confident teleological conception, a conception which in the end culminates in the verdict (“Use of the Parts,” Book 11, Chapter XIV.): “The creator of nature has disclosed his benevolence by wise care for all his creatures, in that he has bestowed upon each one what is truly of service to it.”

This teleological idea of all earthly becoming, being, and passing away was henceforth destined to be a permanent factor in human speculation. Christianity received it as a possession from antique civilization, and only the philosophy and natural science of modern times have been able to threaten its permanence. Biology, as of modern creation, teaches us that all natural phenomena owe their existence to natural causes, that the natural world is subject to natural laws. And, accordingly, teleology, as we encounter it in the works of the heathen Galen and in the writings of the Christian Church Fathers, has turned out to be superstition, which, however, must by no means be classed with the vagaries of mere medico-physical superstition. In coming to this decision, however, we must beware of rash generalization. In this connection we refer only to that kind of teleology which dominated the world previous to the teachings of Descartes and Spinoza, and previous to the advent of modern natural science, with its biological methods. Whether, after all, a theory of life might be possible which, while avoiding the reproach of superstition, might be traced to teleological prepossessions, is a question we can not here discuss. It is admittedly true that the deeper we penetrate into the secrets of nature the more energetically the existence of a marvelous, intelligent will manifests itself as permeating all domains of nature. However, if this fact is not denied on principle, as modern materialism denies it, and proper allowance is made for it, a rehabilitation of teleology as a necessary factor of our theory of life would be the logical consequence. Of course, this teleology would bear a stamp entirely different from that of antiquity and of the middle ages, which is recognized to be superstition. It should not pretend to include the consideration of the entire organic world, but confine its conclusions to the last links in the chain of experience and argument which science has forged from natural phenomena. Now this could be accomplished, in our opinion, even without apprehension of interfering with the indispensable requirements of modern naturalists: “The terrestrial world in its forms and processes is governed solely by terrestrial laws.” What the appearance of such a teleology should be is expressed by William Hartpole Lecky in the following:

“This conception, which exhibits the universe rather as an organism than a mechanism, and regards the complexities and adaptations it displays rather as the results of gradual development from within than of an interference from without, is so novel, and at first sight so startling, that many are now shrinking from it in alarm, under the impression that it destroys the argument from design, and almost amounts to the negation of a Supreme Intelligence. But there can, I think, be little doubt that such fears are, for the most part, unfounded. That matter is governed by mind, that the contrivances and elaborations of the universe are the products of intelligence, are propositions which are quite unshaken, whether we regard these contrivances as the result of a single momentary exercise of will, or of a slow, consistent, and regulated evolution. The proofs of a pervading and developing intelligence, and the proofs of a coordinating and combining intelligence, are both untouched, nor can any conceivable progress of science in this direction destroy them. If the famous suggestion, that all animal and vegetable life results from a single vital germ, and that all the different animals and plants now existent were developed by a natural process of evolution from that germ, were a demonstrated truth, we should still be able to point to the evidence of intelligence displayed in the measured and progressive development, in those exquisite forms so different from what blind chance could produce, and in the manifest adaptation of surrounding circumstances to the living creature, and of the living creature to surrounding circumstances. The argument from design would indeed be changed; it would require to be stated in a new form, but it would be fully as cogent as before. Indeed, it is, perhaps, not too much to say that the more fully this conception of universal evolution is grasped, the more firmly a scientific doctrine of Providence will be established, and the stronger will be the presumption of a future progress.”[1]

In such a manner, despite the fact that in teleology the point of agreement between theistic and physico-mechanical medical thought has been now found, theism, in the course of the history of our science, continually attempted new attacks upon the physical tendency in medicine; and with each assault superstition in medicine, as well as in the natural sciences, was most palpably exposed.

After having satisfied ourselves in this second chapter regarding theism and its attitude with reference to the physico-mechanical theory of life, we shall now enter upon the consideration of the various forms of medical superstition, and it is our intention, as stated in the first chapter, so to arrange the enormous material at hand as to discuss medical superstition according to the sources from which it has sprung. We shall begin by pointing out the intimate relations which have prevailed between the teachings of religion and superstition.