The great success and correspondent utility of D’Israeli’s “Curiosities of Literature,” have induced me to add to the ample harvest of that ingenious writer a few gleanings from another field. They may not afford the same amusing variety to the general reader, but they may tend to draw some attention to many important points that affect the chequered lot of mankind. The progress that every science has rapidly made during the last half-century has been astounding, and seems to have kept pace with those struggles of the intellectual faculties to burst from the shackles of prejudice and error that had ignobly bound them for so many ages. Groping in darkness, man sought the light, but unfortunately the sudden refulgence at times dazzled instead of guiding his steps in the pursuit of truth, and led him into errors as perilous as those that had surrounded him in his former mental obscurity. His gigantic powers were aroused, but, too frequently misapplied, they shook the social edifice to its very foundation. The daring hand of innovation destroyed without contemplating what better fabric could be raised on the ruin: and while the nobler faculties with which Providence had gifted us were exerted for the public weal, the baser parts of our passions sought liberty in licentiousness. Ambition degenerated into ferocity, scepticism led to impiety, and even apparent virtue sought to propagate the doctrines of good, by assuming the “goodly outside” of vice. Religion was overthrown because priestcraft had deceived, and high rank was held up to detestation because princes and nobles had been corrupt; and to use Shakespeare’s words,

Thus we debase
The nature of our seats, and make the rabble
Call our cares, fears; which will in time break ope
The lock o’ the senate, and bring in the crows
To peck the eagles.

In ten short years this mighty revolution in the intellect of man took place,—in a country too that may be considered the cradle of the future weal and woe, perhaps of the universe;—in ten short years we beheld Montesquieu, Raynal, Rousseau, Voltaire, Condillac, Helvetius, beaming like rising meteors in the dark firmament, and shedding a fearful gleam on the past, the present, and the future; boldly tracking a path once trodden with groping steps by Bacon, Descartes, Hobbes, and Gassendi![1] No longer trusting in blind confidence to the scholastic rules of those dignitaries of science whose conclusions were considered sufficient to command our faith, man became sceptical and positive; doubt and disbelief were carried into every investigation; the reign of prestiges was over; the former monopolists of power and of science, the two great levers of society (the more effective since their fulcra rested on timidity and ignorance), were thrown from their antiquated stand, and found themselves brought face to face in explanatory contact with their once all-believing and obedient pupils, but now become a neoteric generation;—the crown and the sceptre, the cap and the gown, were baubles in their eyes. When the faculty of reasoning was not able to prevail, the shafts of ridicule were drawn from the quiver of philosophic wit, and inflicted rankling wounds where they could not destroy. Ancient systems were exploded with ancient prejudices, theories were overthrown with dynasties, and doctrines with governments;—one might have imagined that the formidable power of steam had been communicated to the mind, illustrating the words of Milton,

The mind is its own place, and in itself
Can make a heaven of hell, and hell of heaven.

Science, now aimed at generalization-the physiologist, the chemist, became legislators, stepping from the academic chair to the senatorial seat, and from teaching how to benefit mankind they hurried to destroy, forgetful, in their ambitious dream, of the noble encomium of Cicero, “Homines ad deos null se proprius accedunt, quam salutem hominibus dando.”

Philosophy and the study of medicine were now inseparable; this generous science was not to be attained in books only, but in the study of mankind. Rousseau thus spoke of physicians when writing to Bernardin de Saint Pierre:—“Il n’y a pas d’État qui exige plus d’Étude que le leur; par tous les pays, ce sont des hommes les plus vÉritablement savans et utiles.” Voltaire was of a similar opinion when he thus expressed himself:—“Il n’est rien de plus estimable au monde, qu’un mÉdecin qui, ayant dans sa jeunesse ÉtudiÉ la nature, connu les ressorts du corps humain, les maux qui le tourmentent, les remÈdes qui peuvent le soulager, exerce son État en s’en dÉfiant, et soigne Également les pauvres et les riches.”

How came it then that these great observers did not partake of the prejudices of Montaigne, MoliÈre, and other writers, who invariably stigmatized the practice of physic? simply because it was no longer a dogmatic profession exercised with scholastic pedantry, but a science founded on the study of nature, and the immutable laws of sound philosophy. Although a classic education forms an indispensable part of a physician’s education, yet it is in more important pursuits that his experience should be obtained: the knowledge of ancient languages is principally useful in discovering the errors of the olden writers, and in detecting the barefaced plagiarisms of the moderns.

Much valuable time, however, may be lost in the pursuit of ancient lore; and Montaigne has justly observed, “There are books which should only be read, but others that must be learnt.” This discrimination is of the utmost importance; for it may be said of the bookworm’s library, “Multitudo librorum sÆpe est nubes testium ignorantiÆ possessoris.” Aristippus very properly replied to a man who boasted of his reading, “It is not those who eat the most that are hale and healthy, but those who can best digest.” Hence the distinction that arose between the philosophical physician and the dogmatizer. The one was guided by the observation of facts, the other by glossarial records. Men of erudition are seldom men of genius. The exploring mind is ever anxious to take flight from the prison-house of scholastic restraints. Scepticism, moreover, is frequently the result of deep study, which leads the neophyte into such a labyrinth of conflicting opinions, that decision and conviction are not easily attained. Laugier, a most learned German physician, had no faith in his profession: being reproached with his incredulity, he replied, “Credo, Domine, adjuva incredulitatem meam.”

The preceding observations lead to an important, and at the same time a painful reflection. Will this rapid intellectual progress tend ultimately to meliorate the condition of mankind? Nations have been compared to Man: having once reached the acme of prosperity and strength, their vigour like his gradually declines. History offers nothing more than a chronicle of such facts. Whatever may be the causes of this degeneracy, is a matter foreign to my present subject; although I may be permitted to observe by the way, that it may have arisen from the great disparity and inequality in the condition of society that tends to lull the wealthy into apathetic indifference and blind security in their power, while it urges the poor and the bold to rapine and destructive deeds. This perilous state can only cease to exist when general education is improved: if this most important source of real prosperity is attended to, we perhaps need not seek in particular events, gloomy anticipations of the future.

Whatever may be the destinies of nations in the wreck of empires and the destruction of men, the philosopher calmly seated on ruins that often “speak that sometime they were a worthy building,” reflects with pride that science has withstood the withering hand of time. It is true, that in every study errors have been heaped upon errors; but truth will often result from falsehood, and doubt that brings on investigation, leads to comparative certainty. Locke has justly observed, that the faculty of reasoning seldom or never deceives those who trust to it: its consequences, from what it builds on, are evident and certain; but that which it oftenest, if not only, misleads us in, is, that the principles from which we conclude, the grounds upon which we bottom our reasoning, are but a part—something is left out which should go into the reckoning to make it just and exact. This something is the constant pursuit of the philosopher. The name of a country may be obliterated from a map, the deeds of heroes be effaced from the annals of the world; the pursuit of truth can only cease when man is no more;—its light may be veiled by ignorance, craft, or cupidity,—but it cannot be extinguished. The cities that gave birth to the illustrious philosophers of old have long ceased to exist, yet the immortal works of those sages that have escaped the ravages of time, are still as fresh and luxuriant as when their glorious oratory enchanted and captivated their disciples’ ears.

No science has been cultivated with more difficulty than that of Medicine. The following papers will show how fearfully it has had to contend in turn with the power of priestcraft, that sought to monopolize its practice, as a privilege from the gods, and with the furious opposition of contemporary members of the profession, whose cupidity and vanity were alarmed by the introduction of novel doctrines, which they were too old, too busy, or too obstinate to learn. The extracts from Medical Literature that I have given will show that most of our modern notions were known to the earliest writers, and were only improved in succeeding ages, as in like manner our present doctrines will in all probability be advanced by future generations. The destruction of kingdoms and of chronicles, the inroads of barbarism,—the more destructive inroads of ignorance and bigotry, have not been able to produce a void in the world of science; the catenation of philosophic inquiry has never been broken in its connexions. Oppression only riveted the chain more firmly, as if to resist the united power of man and time. Adversity, which

Like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in its head,

has always been considered the best school of practical wisdom: and it is thus that, amidst the portentous events which have shaken every institution, and which perhaps still menace further dissolution, the fane of science has oftentimes been more vividly illumined by the surrounding conflagration.

The evils that desolate society too frequently arise from the hasty acts of intemperate men, who deem it necessary to meet the tumultuous demands of the multitude with decided and energetic, but, at the same time, perilous measures: the progress of science, on the contrary, is gradual, and of course more likely to be eventually permanent. While political speculations are daily becoming more uncertain in their operations, the triumph of intellectual superiority over prejudice is every where apparent;—unjust disabilities are being abolished, and the gates of learning thrown open to every candidate, whatever may be his religious or his political tenets.

In our country, more than in any other, industry and perseverance have ever had a fairer chance of attaining social pre-eminence, despite the shackles imposed upon the candidate for fame by institutions framed in the darker ages. What then may we not expect, when we behold the bright era that opens before us,—when exclusive institutions will be considered the obsolete remnants of expiring bigotry and intolerance! May we not indulge in the most sanguine hope, that our former glories are only the historic earnest of still more glorious days? If the spirit of the immortal Locke could hover over our earth, he would feel, with some degree of pride, that his admonitions have not been unheeded; and that “those who live mewed up within their own contracted territories, and will not look abroad beyond the boundaries that chance, conceit, or laziness have set to their inquiries, but live separate from the notions, discourses, and attainments of the rest of mankind,” have at last felt the necessity of yielding to the voice of reason, or rather of their own welfare.

In the following work I merely rank myself as a compiler. I have only sketched—sometimes perhaps with too fanciful a pencil, subjects of great importance, which, by being thus rendered popular, may induce abler pens to imbody them in a more permanent form. The variety of matter introduced has obliged me to be discursive, and to have recourse to some repetitions that were necessary to illustrate subjects not easily abridged. Whenever I have held up errors and evil passions to exposure, I have not, in one single instance, I trust, been influenced by any hostility towards men or parties—ranks or creeds. If I have unwillingly and unwittingly given offence, I shall most sincerely lament it. My materials have been gleaned from the works of many contemporaries, whose well-known and justly-appreciated names will in general appear: but I should be wanting in candour, did I not avow that I have derived much valuable information from Le Dictionnaire des Sciences MÉdicales, an elaborate compilation, containing more “Curiosities of Medical Experience” than any existing work.

48, Eaton Square,
January, 1837.

CONTENTS.

CURIOSITIES OF MEDICAL EXPERIENCE.