Among the Egyptians the first great development of medicine came among the priests. The two professions, the medical and priesthood, were one, and the temples were the hospitals of the time. We have stories of people traveling long distances to certain temples in the early days of Egypt and also of Greece. Often the sick slept in the temples and dreamed of ways by which they would be cured. The stories make one feel that somehow the sleep which came over them was not entirely natural and spontaneous, but must have been something like hypnotic sleep. As for the dreams, the suggestions of modern time given in the hypnotic condition seem to be the best indication that we have of what happened in those old days. Certain it is that the persuasion of the patient that he would get better, the influence of the diversion of mind consequent upon his journey and the regulation of life under new circumstances in the temple, with the repeated suggestions of the priests and of their various remedial measures, as well as those due to the fact that other patients around him were improving, all plainly show the place of psychotherapy at this time.

Much of the old-time therapy was in association with dreams supposed to have been in some way inspired. This was true at Epidaurus, at Kos, at Rome, at Lebene, at Athens, and at every place we know of where cures were worked in the olden times. To the modern mind it seems impossible that dreams should come so apropos unless they were in some way directed. The only explanation seems to be the use of suggestion, with the probable production of sleep resembling our modern hypnotic trance. Apparently the patient's attention was little directed to the origin of the suggestions received, but he remembered and benefited by them.

The most explicit testimony that we have to the antiquity of psychotherapeutics and to the employment of the influence of the minds of patients over their ailments in the olden time is in Pinel's "Nosographie philosophique" and in his "TraitÉ mÉdico-philosophique sur l'alienation mentale."

Pinel himself will be remembered as the great French psychiatrist who, confident that he could control most of them by mental influence, first dared to strike the chains from the insane in the asylums of Paris, at the end of the eighteenth century, when for more than a century they had been treated more barbarously than ever before in history. The passage makes clear that the writer himself, over a hundred years ago, was persuaded of the significance of the patient's mental attitude and of the value of mental treatment for many nervous and mental diseases:

An intimate acquaintance with human nature and with the character in general of melancholics must always point out the urgent necessity of forcibly agitating the system, of interrupting the chain of their gloomy ideas, and of engaging their interest by powerful and continuous impressions on their external senses. Wise regulations of this nature are considered as having constituted in part the celebrity and utility of the priesthood of ancient Egypt. Efforts of industry and of art, scenes of magnificence and of grandeur, the varied pleasures of sense, and {9} the imposing influences of a pompous and mysterious superstition, were perhaps never devoted to a more laudable purpose. At both extremities of ancient Egypt, a country which was at that time exceedingly populous and flourishing, were temples dedicated to Saturn, whither melancholics resorted in crowds in quest of relief. The priests, taking advantage of their credulous confidence, ascribed to miraculous powers the effects of natural means exclusively. Games and recreations of all kinds were instituted in these temples. Beautiful paintings and images were everywhere exposed to public view. The most enchanting songs, and sounds the most melodious "took prisoner the captive sense." Flowery gardens and groves, disposed with taste and art, invited them to refreshment and salubrious exercise. Gaily decorated boats sometimes transported them to breathe, amidst rural concerts, the pure breezes of the Nile. Sometimes they were conveyed to its verdant Isles, where, under the symbols of some guardian deity, new and ingeniously contrived entertainments were prepared for their reception. Every moment was devoted to some pleasurable occupation, or rather a system of diversified amusements, enhanced and sanctioned by superstition. An appropriate and scrupulously observed regimen, repeated excursions to the holy places, preconcerted fÊtes at different stages to excite and keep up their interest on the road, with every other advantage of a similar nature that the experienced priesthood could invent or command, were, in no small degree, calculated to suspend the influence of pain, to calm the inquietudes of a morbid mind, and to operate salutary changes in the various functions of the system.

The Temple at Epidaurus as a Health Resort

This gives some slight idea of the magnificent arrangement of this famous health resort of the Greeks in which every possible care was taken to influence the mind of the patient favorably and bring about his cure. The buildings of the Hieron or medical institution of Epidaurus were beautifully situated about six miles from the town of Epidaurus in picturesque scenery and the most healthful surroundings. There were a series of bathing houses for hydropathy. The abatons, lofty and airy sleeping chambers with their southern sides and open colonnade, are singularly like the open balconies of our tuberculosis sanatoria. Every occupation of mind was provided. There was a theatre that would seat over 10,000 people. Here the great classic Greek plays were given with fullest effect. There was a stadium seating about 12,000 people in which athletic events were witnessed, finally there was a hippodrome for alt sorts of amusements in which animals shared. Then there were the walks through the country, sheltered paths around the grounds for inclement weather, even tunnels for passage from one building to another and all the influence of religion, of suggestion, of contact with cultured priests thoroughly accustomed to dealing with all manner of patients. No wonder the place was popular and many cures effected.

A, South Propylaea; B, Gymnasium; C, Temple of Esculapius; DD, East and West Abatons (temple enclosures); E, Pholos; F, Temple of Artemis; G, Grove; H, Small Altar; I, Large Alter; J, South Boundary; K, Square (building); L, Baths of Esculapius; M, Gymnasium and Hostel; N, Four Quadrangles (for promenade and exercise); O, Roman Building; P, Roman Bath; Q, Portico of Cotys; R, Northeastern Colonnade; S, Northeastern Quadrangle; T, Temple of Aphrodite (?); U, Northern Propylaea, on the Road to Epidaurus; V, Roman Building; W, Northern Boundary; X, Stadium; Y, Goal or Starting Line; Z, Tunnel between Temple and Stadium. (Caton.)

There are other phases of Egyptian medicine which serve to show us how early many of the psychological ideas that we now are trying to adopt and adapt in medicine had come to the thinkers in medicine of long ago. There is, for instance, now in the Berlin museum an interesting papyrus of the Middle Kingdom, the date of which is about 2500 B. C, in which there are many modern ideas. It is a dialogue which attempts the justification of suicide. The principal speaker, a man weary of life, has made up his mind to suicide, but is hesitant. The others who speak in the dialogue are his secondary personalities. The Egyptians considered that there were several of these interior persons with whom the man himself might have communication. A man could play draughts with his ba somewhat as we play solitaire. He could talk to and exchange gifts with his ka. He could argue and remain at variance, but more often come to an agreement, with his khou. This last was his luminous immortal ego, which, according to the then generally received Egyptian conception, formed a complete and independent personality. The whole scene thus outlined is typically modern in certain phases of its psychology, and presents the only known treatment for the tendency to suicide. While we have but this instance, there seems no doubt that the same system of persuasion must have been employed for the cure of other mental conditions than that which predisposes to suicide.

What is described in our quotation from Pinel as the most ancient form of psychotherapy has all down the centuries been the rule of life for patients at institutions similar to those of Egypt. We know more of Greece than of other countries; there the shrines of AEsculapius were in many ways what we now call sanatoria. They were spacious buildings pleasantly situated, the hours of rising and of rest were definitely regulated, the patients' minds were occupied with the details of the cure, they met pleasant companions from distant places, they had all the advantages of diversion of mind, simple diet, long hours in the open air and abundance of rest away from the ordinary worries of life. Besides, there had usually been some weeks or months of {10} preparation during a lengthy journey and all the diversion of mind which that implies. No wonder that these institutions acquired a reputation for cures of symptoms which the physician had been unable to accomplish while the patient was at home in the midst of his daily cares and worries of life.

The temples in Egypt, in Assyria, in Greece, were much like the health institutions—"cure houses," as the expressive German phrase calls them—of our day. Pictures of the temple of AEsculapius at Epidaurus show a magnificent building with beautiful grounds, ample bathing facilities, and evidently many opportunities for a quiet, easy life far from the worries and bustle of the world and with everything that would suggest to the patient that he must get well. This phase of psychotherapy in the olden time is not only interesting in itself, but furnishes a valuable commentary on corresponding modern institutions, since it shows that it is not so much the physical influences, which have differed markedly at different periods, as the mental attitude so constantly influenced at these institutions which was the real therapeutic factor.

Now our sanatoria are nearly all founded on some special principle of therapeutics. Some of them have dietetic fads and no food out of which the life has been cooked is eaten. Some of them are absolutely vegetarian. Some of them depend on wonderful springs in their neighborhoods, others on certain forms of exercise, still others give the rest cure. All succeed in relieving many symptoms. No one who has analyzed the cures effected will think for a moment that it is the special therapeutic fad of the institution that accomplishes all the good done for patients suffering from so many different complaints. Similar ills often are affected quite differently, and, while some are relieved, others are not. Those who fail to be cured at one will, however, often be relieved at another. It depends on how much influence of mind is secured over the patient and how much diversion from thoughts of self is provided.