medieval universities, was so entirely speculative or purely theoretic
and so thoroughly impractical as not to be of any serious use for life
and its problems, the utter falsity of such declarations can be seen
from the fact that William of Salicet insisted on teaching medicine by
clinical methods, always discussed cases with his students, and his
medical and surgical works contain many case histories. This is just
what pretentiously ignorant historians of medical education {7} have
often emphatically declared that medieval teachers did not do, but
should have done, in the Middle Ages. It is not surprising then to
find that William himself, and his great pupil Lanfranc, insisted on
the utter inadvisability of separating medicine and surgery in such a
way that the physician would not have the opportunity to be present at
operations, and thus gain more definite knowledge about the actual
conditions of various organs which he had tried to investigate from
the surface of the body. It is a very curious coincidence that both
the Regius Professors of Physic in England at the present time, our
own Professor Osler, now at Oxford, as well as his colleague,
Professor Allbutt, of Cambridge, have within the last five years
emphasized this same idea in almost the very words which were used by
William and Lanfranc nearly seven hundred years ago. Lanfranc went
even beyond his master in practical applications of important
scientific principles to medicine and surgery. He added to the means
of controlling hemorrhage. In arterial hemorrhage he suggested digital
compression for an hour, or in severe cases ligature. His master had
studied wounds of the neck. Lanfranc has a magnificent chapter on
injuries of the head, which Professor Allbutt does not hesitate to
call one of the classics of surgery. Lanfranc was thoroughly
appreciated by his contemporaries. After years of study and teaching
in Italy he was invited to Paris, where he became one of the lights of
that great university. Both Salicet and Lanfranc did their wonderful
work in scientific medicine down in Italy where ecclesiastical
influence was strongest. Italy continued to be for the next six
centuries always the home of the best medical schools in the world, to
which the most ardent students from {8} all over the continent and
even England went for the sake of the magnificent opportunities
provided. It was literally true, in spite of the tradition of Church
opposition to medical science, that the nearer to Rome the university
the better its medical school; and as we shall see, Rome itself had
the best medical school in the world for two centuries, while its
greatest rival, often ahead of it in scientific achievement, always
its peer, was the medical school of Bologna in the Papal States,
directly under the control of the Popes since the beginning of the
sixteenth century.
Dr. White has said just the opposite of this in a well-known passage
of his book, in which he assures his readers that "in proportion as
the grasp of theology upon education tightened, medicine declined; and
in proportion as that grasp relaxed, medicine has been developed." The
reason for such a statement is that he knew nothing about the history
of medicine and surgery in these medieval centuries and thought there
was none. This is a characteristic example of his mode of writing the
History of the (Supposed) Warfare of Theology with Science in
Christendom. This much will give some idea of the value of his book as
a work of reference.
After knowing something of these wonderful developments of medieval
medical science, it is to be hoped that no one will listen hereafter
to the ignorant assertions of those who talk of the suppression of
medical knowledge at this time. _William of Salicet and Lanfranc were
both of them clerics,_ that is, they belonged to the ecclesiastical
body and had taken minor orders, though they were not priests, as
priests were for obvious reasons not allowed to do surgical
operations, it being as repugnant to human feelings in the Middle Ages
as it is now, that {9} the messenger of Divine Mercy should handle the
knife and spill blood, or that the pastor of souls should come
straight from the operating room to bring consolation to the afflicted
and the dying.
Much more might be said about the wonderful medical teaching of the
thirteenth century. The men who made the universities what they have
continued to be down to the present time, had open minds for any great
advances that might come. Accordingly, when the histories of
anesthesia tell us that there was a form of anesthesia introduced
during the thirteenth century by Ugo da Lucca, and that even some
method of inhalation was employed for this purpose, it will be a
surprise only to those who have never properly realized all that our
educational forefathers of the early university days succeeded in
accomplishing.
Down at Montpelier, Gilbert the Englishman taught that small-pox
patients should be treated in rooms with red hangings, red curtains
being especially advised for the doors and windows. This is what
Finsen re-discovered in the nineteenth century, and for it was given
the Nobel prize in the twentieth century. He found that small-pox
patients suffered much less, that their fever was shorter, and that
the after effects were much less marked when only red light was
admitted to them. One may well ask what drugs did they employ, and
perhaps conclude that because they knew very little of drugs,
therefore they knew little of medicine. It is in the use of drugs,
however, that medicine has always been at its weakest, and we scarcely
need Oliver Wendel Holmes's declaration, that if all the drugs men
used up to his time had been thrown into the sea, they would be better
rather than worse off for it; nor Professor Osier's many {10} emphatic
protests with regard to our ignorance of drugs, to make the world of
the present day realize that a generation's use of them as a test
would tell quite as severely against the eighteenth or the nineteenth
century, as against the thirteenth or the fourteenth. They did use
opium, however, the drug having been introduced into general practice,
it is said, by a distinguished Papal physician, Simon Januensis.
Mandrake was employed, and has not as yet gone entirely out of use.
Various herbal decoctions were employed, and though these were used
entirely on empiric grounds, some at least of them have continued in
use with no better reason for their employment during most of the
centuries since.
The relation of the Popes to these advances in medicine may be best
appreciated from the interest which they took in the hospitals. It was
only in hospitals that cases could be properly studied, and the
medieval hospitals were conducted with very nearly the same relations
to the universities of that time as those that exist at the present
day. In the chapter on the Foundation of City Hospitals we show that
these institutions are all, as Virchow, who is surely an authority
above suspicion in any matter relating to the Popes has declared, due
to one great Pope. This is the best possible demonstration of supreme
humanitarian interest in human ills, and their treatment. Innocent
III., as we shall see, at the beginning of the thirteenth century
summoned Guy from Montpelier, where he had been trained in the care of
patients, and where the greatest medical school of the time existed,
to come to Rome and organize the Hospital of the Holy Ghost in the
Papal City, which was to be a model for hospitals of the same kind in
every diocese throughout the Christian world. Literally hundreds of
{11} these hospitals were founded during the thirteenth century as the
result of this initiative. Patients were not left to die, with only
the hope of prayers to relieve their sufferings, but they were cared
for as skilfully as the rising science of the time knew how and with
the tenderness that religious care has always been able to give. For
added consolation in the midst of their sufferings and as a fortifier
against the thought of death, they had religion and all its beautiful
influences, for which even Virchow, himself utterly unbelieving,
cannot suppress a tribute.
At the beginning of the fourteenth century, the University of the City
of Rome was founded by Pope Boniface VIII. Only a year or two later
the Popes removed their capital to Avignon. It has often been thought
that, because of this removal of the Papal capital, this University of
the City never came into existence; but we have definite records of
salaries paid out of the Papal revenues to professors of law and
medicine about the end of the first quarter of the fourteenth century.
Down in the South of France, at Avignon itself, the Popes had for one
of their chamberlains the famous Guy de Chauliac, who is always spoken
of as the Father of Modern Surgery. One of the Popes of the Avignon
period founded the College of Twelve Physicians at Montpelier, the
foundation being sufficient to support twelve medical students, and by
adding the prestige of the Pope's patronage to the reputation of the
University, greatly encouraged attendance at it.
Another of the Popes of the Avignon period, Pope John XXII., who is
said by President White to have been most bitter in opposition to
every form of science, actually helped in the foundation of two
medical schools. {12} One of these was at Cahors, his birthplace, and
the other was at Perugia, at that time in the Papal States. In
founding the medical school at Perugia, Pope John insisted that its
standards must be as high as those of Paris and Bologna, and required
that the first teachers there should be graduates from Paris or
Bologna, where were the two greatest medical schools of the time.
Seven years of study, three in the undergraduate department and four
in the graduate schools, were to be required, according to this bull
of foundation (given in full in the appendix), before the degree of
Doctor of Medicine could be conferred. If it is recalled that this
standard of three years of undergraduate work and four in the graduate
school, or at least of seven years of University work, is the ideal
toward which our universities are struggling, and, it must be said,
not with the entire success we would like, at the beginning of the
twentieth century, then, it is surprising to think that the president
of a modern university, deeply interested in education in all its
features and himself a professor of history, should know so little of,
and be so lacking in sympathy with these men who laid the deep
foundations of our modern education.
Perhaps the most striking feature of the relation of the Popes to
medicine remains to be mentioned. If they really were the bitter
opponents of things medical that Dr. White would have us believe, then
we should expect that either there were no such officials as Papal
physicians, or else that the men who occupied these posts were the
veriest charlatans, who knew very little of medicine, and certainly
did nothing to develop the science. As a matter of fact, there is no
list of physicians connected by any common bond in history who are
{13} so gloriously representative of scientific progress in medicine
as the Papal physicians. The faculty of no medical school presents
such a list of great names as those of the men who were chosen to be
the official medical attendants of the Popes, and who were thus given
a position of prominence where their discoveries in medicine had a
vogue they otherwise could not have attained. The list of the Royal
physicians of any reigning house of Europe for the last seven
centuries looks trivial beside the roll of Papal physicians. Could the
Popes possibly have done anything more than this for medicine, or
shown their interest in its progress, or made people realize better,
that while prayer might be of service, every possible human means must
be taken to secure, maintain and recover health.
To read even the headings of Dr. White's chapter on from Miracles to
Medicine, in which he tells of how "the medieval miracles of healing
checked medical science," how "pastoral medicine held back scientific
effort," how "there was so much theological discouragement of
medicine," and finally, how "the study of Anatomy was considered a sin
against the Holy Ghost," in the light of this plain, matter-of-fact
story of the wonderful development of medical science in the
ecclesiastically founded and ruled universities of the thirteenth
century, makes one realize into what a farcical state of mind as
regards the realities of history such writers have forced themselves,
and unfortunately have led many readers, by their excursions into the
history of medicine and science. Probably there was never a more
pretentious exhibition of ignorance of the facts of history than is
displayed by these expressions and by the whole drift of this chapter.
Dr. White would have us {14} believe that the thirteenth and
fourteenth centuries were so backward in medicine and surgery that
they practically have no history in these departments, or so little as
not to be worth talking about. The simple facts show us that this is
one of three or four great periods in human history in which there was
the most wonderful development of medicine and surgery.
As we shall see in the course of this book, there was no bull or any
other document issued by the Popes forbidding dissection or hampering
the development of anatomy in any way. As a matter of fact, the
ecclesiastics, instead of being behind their age in liberality of
spirit with regard to the use of the human body after death for
anatomical purposes, were always ahead of it. There has always existed
a popular horror of dissection, and this has manifested itself from
the earliest times in history down to and within the last half
century, in refusal to enact such secular legislation as would
properly provide for the practice of dissection. This was as true in
the United States until within the memory of men still alive as it had
always been hitherto in European history. Dissection came to be
allowed so freely in the medieval universities founded under
ecclesiastical influence and ruled by ecclesiastics, as the result of
the intelligent realization on the part of churchmen that the study of
the human body was necessary for a proper recognition and appreciation
of the causes of the ills to which flesh is heir. They realized that
the only way to lay the foundation of exact medical knowledge was not
only to permit, but to encourage the practice of dissection, and
accordingly this was done at everyone of a dozen medical schools of
Italy during the fourteenth, fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, and
nowhere more so than at the {15} Papal University at Rome itself
during the sixteenth century, at a time when, if we would believe Dr.
White, the Church authorities were doing everything in their power to
prevent dissection.
None of the other sciences allied to medicine were hampered in any
way, but, on the contrary, fostered and encouraged; and the devoted
students of science were prominent churchmen, some of whom were
honored with the title of saint after their deaths. In spite of
declarations to the contrary, chemistry was not forbidden by a Papal
decree or other document, though the practice of certain alchemists of
pretending to make gold and silver out of baser metals and thus
cheating people was condemned, just as we condemn the corresponding
practice of selling "gold bricks" at the present time. As will be made
very clear, the Pope who issued the decree that forbids such sharp
practices was a distinguished and discriminating patron of medical
education at the beginning of the fourteenth century, doing more for
it than any ruler for three centuries after his time; yet in doing so
he was only carrying out the policy which had been maintained by the
Popes before his time and was to continue ever afterwards.
Strange as it may appear when we recall how much has been said with
regard to Papal, and Church, and theological opposition to science,
the story that we have just told with regard to the Papal relations to
medicine and medical schools must be retold with regard to science in
every department, and the scientific studies at the great medieval
universities. Most people will find it even more difficult to accept
this than to reach a calm consideration of the Papal relations to the
medical sciences. Medicine is supposed to be the sort of practical
{16} subject that, in spite of prejudice, the ecclesiastical
authorities could not neglect and were not able to suppress. Science
in general, however, is supposed to be so distinctly opposed to what
was at least considered religious truth, that the Church could not
very well do anything else than prevent its development, or at least
hamper its progress to such an extent that it was only with the
lifting of the ecclesiastical incubus in our own day, that any great
scientific advances came in the physical sciences. This is an entirely
false impression emphasized by the ridiculous intolerance of writers
who knew practically nothing of the real history of science in the
Middle Ages, wrote their own prejudices large into the story of the
times, and did great positive harm to the cause of truth by a pretense
of knowledge they did not have, but which so many confidingly believed
them to possess.
But it will at once be said, what of Galileo? Does not his case show
the anti-scientific temper of churchmen? Nearly half a century ago,
Cardinal Newman in his Apologia characteristically observed that this
very case sufficed to prove that the Church did not set herself
against scientific progress, for this is the "one stock argument" to
the contrary, "the exception which proves the rule." Commenting upon
the Galileo incident, Professor Augustus de Morgan, in his article on
the Motion of the Earth in the English Encyclopedia, has expressed
exactly the same conclusion. He is an authority not likely to be
suspected of Catholic sympathy. He says:
"The Papal power must upon the whole have been moderately used in
matters of philosophy, if we may judge by the great stress laid on
this one case of Galileo. It is the standing proof that an authority
which has {17} lasted a thousand years was all the time occupied in
checking the progress of thought(!) There are certainly one or two
other instances, but those who make most of the outcry do not know
them."
There is no doubt that Galileo was prosecuted by the Roman inquisition
on account of his astronomical teachings. We would be the last to deny
that this was a deplorable mistake made by persons in ecclesiastical
authority, who endeavored to make a Church tribunal the judge of
scientific truth, a function altogether alien to its character which
it was not competent to exercise. The fact that this was practically
the only time that this was done serves to show that it was an
unfortunate incident, but not a policy. The mistake has been to
conclude that this was a typical case--one of many, more flagrant than
the others. This single incident has indeed made it impossible that
anything of the same kind should ever occur again. It was rather
because of the way in which Galileo urged his truths than because of
the truths themselves that he was condemned. Even Professor Huxley, in
a letter to Professor St. George Mivart, November 12th, 1885, said: "I
gave some attention to the case of Galileo when I was in Italy, and I
arrived at the conclusion that the Pope and the College of Cardinals
had rather the best of it."
Before as well as after Galileo's time scientific research was carried
on ardently in the universities, especially in Italy. In the chapter
on Science at the Medieval Universities, we call attention to the many
advances then made with regard to scientific questions in which the
world is very much interested at the present time. A hundred years
before Galileo's time Copernicus went down to Italy to study astronomy
and medicine, and {18} when his book was published it was dedicated to
a Pope. Copernicus himself was a faithful churchman all his life, came
near being made a bishop once, and kept the diocese in which he lived,
and in which his personal friend was bishop, in the fold of the Church
in spite of Luther and the religious revolt all around it in Germany.
One of the great scientists of the seventeenth century whose name is
stamped deeply on the history of science, Father Kircher, the Jesuit,
was invited to Rome the very year after Galileo's condemnation, and
for thirty years continued to _experiment_ and write in all branches
of science, not only with the approbation of his own order, the
Jesuits, which helped him in every way by the collection of specimens
for his museum, but also with the hearty good will of many cardinals
who were his personal friends, and with the constant patronage of the
Popes, whose generous liberality enabled him to make Rome the greatest
centre of scientific interest during this century.
At this time and during the preceding century the Roman University had
the greatest medical school in the world. The names of its professors
during the preceding century need only be mentioned in order to
emphasize this. They include such distinguished men as Eustachius and
Varolius, whose names are forever enshrined in the history of anatomy;
Columbus, who discovered and described the lesser or pulmonary
circulation half a century before Harvey's publication with regard to
the general circulation; Caesalpinus, to whom the Italians attribute
the discovery of the greater circulation before Harvey. In the next
century Malpighi was tempted to come to Rome to teach at the Papal
University, and the great Father of Comparative Anatomy {19} ended his
days in the Papal capital, amidst the friendship of all the high
ecclesiastics and with the social intimacy of the Pope. From the
beginning of the sixteenth century Bologna is a Papal city, but its
medical school, far from declining after it came under Papal
jurisdiction, was even more brilliant than before, and soon came even
to outshine its previously successful rival, Padua.
What we would say then, is that the story of the supposed opposition
of the Church and the Popes and the ecclesiastical authorities to
science in any of its branches, is founded entirely on mistaken
notions. Most of it is quite imaginary. Much of it is due to the
exaggeration of the significance of the Galileo incident. Only those
who know nothing about the history of medicine and of science continue
to harbor it. That Dr. White's book, contradicted as it is so directly
by all our serious histories of medicine and of science, should have
been read by so many thousands in this country, and should have been
taken seriously by educated men, physicians, teachers, and even
professors of science who want to know the history of their own
sciences, only shows how easily even supposedly educated men may be
led to follow their prejudices rather than their mental faculties, and
emphasizes the fact that the tradition that there is no good that can
possibly come out of the Nazareth of the times before the reformation,
still dominates the intellects of many educated people who think that
they are far from prejudice and have minds perfectly open to
conviction.
We would not leave the impression, moreover, that it was in medicine
alone that the misunderstood Middle Ages made distinct progress in
science. This is true in every department of what we now call natural
science. {20} The reason for the false impression that science was not
studied in the Middle Ages at the universities, is that the supposed
historians of education and of science who have made such declarations
have never taken the trouble to look into the works of the great
writers of this period. Anyone who does so, at once changes his
opinion in this matter. Humboldt, for instance, the great German
natural philosopher, has given ample credit to these colleagues of
his, who lived some six centuries before him, yet did such wonderful
work in spite of their inadequate means and the fact that they were as
yet only groping in the darkness of the beginnings of science.
Whewell, the English historian of the inductive sciences, has also
proved sympathetic to these old philosophers, and especially to
Albertus Magnus and Roger Bacon. Those who so ignorantly but with a
pretense of knowledge make little of the science of the Middle Ages,
know nothing of the real accomplishments of such men as Bacon,
Albertus Magnus, Thomas Aquinas, Arnold of Villanova, nor Vincent of
Beauvais, the encyclopedist. As is always the case, however, the
ignorance of supposed historians of science and education in this
matter, has only served to emphasize the presumptuous assurance of
their declarations as to the intolerance of the Middle Ages toward
scientific progress. It is ever the ignorant man who has the least
doubt about his opinions.
Unfortunately many students of science followed these writers
apparently without a hint of the deception that was being practiced on
them. Not infrequently the prestige or institutional position of the
writers has been enough to carry their works into a vogue which has
been heightened by the existence of religious prejudice and {21}
intolerance. Usually such motives are supposed to be far distant from
the scientific mind. In this case they have been, to some degree at
least, unconsciously present. There has unfortunately been a definite
persuasion that there could be nothing good in the Middle Ages, and
therefore there has been no surprise that evil should be found there.
Perhaps there is nothing sadder in present day education, than the
fact that serious students and professors of science should thus have
been led astray. Nothing shows more clearly the superficiality of our
education than the fact that these unfounded statements with regard to
the greatest period of education in history have been so universally
accepted with so little question.
A moment's consideration of the conditions in which the universities
developed will show how unreasonable is the thought that the Church or
the Popes were opposed to any phase of education.