CHAPTER II.

From the possession of a physician who was kind, generous, and social

in the highest degree, but who was certainly more remarkable for

strong good sense and natural sagacity than for literary attainments,

I passed into the hands of an accomplished scholar. Dr. Mead was

allowed even by his antagonists, themselves men of great erudition,

to be _artis medicæ decus, vitæ revera nobilis_, and one who excelled

all our chief nobility in the encouragement he afforded to the fine

arts, polite learning, and the knowledge of antiquity. But though I had

changed masters, it was no small satisfaction to me to return to the

old House, for Mead not only succeeded Radcliffe in the greater part

of his business, but removed to the residence which he had formerly

occupied in Bloomsbury-square[12]. My present master, on commencing his

profession, had first settled at Stepney, had then resided in Crutched,

and afterwards in Austin Friers, for the purpose of being near St.

Thomas’ Hospital; but now the distance of his new abode obliged him to

resign the situation of physician to that charitable establishment.

About six months after the death of Radcliffe, I was present at a

consultation between Sir Hans Sloane, Dr. Cheyne, and Mead. It was

held on the case of Bishop Burnet, the prelate so celebrated for the

“History of his own Time,” and for the active part he had taken in the

great transactions of that eventful period.

He had been taken ill of a violent cold, which soon turned to a

pleurisy; and this increasing, and baffling all remedies, his worthy

friend and relation Dr. Cheyne called in the assistance of the two

other doctors. Up to this time Burnet had enjoyed uninterrupted good

health, which he attributed, not without reason, to his temperate

habits. “I will give you,” said the venerable patient to Dr. Mead

(for the Bishop was now 72 years old), “a short outline of my course

of life. In summer I have been in the habit of rising at five in the

morning, in the winter at six; and I have always officiated myself at

prayer, though my chaplains may have been present. I then took my tea

in company with my children, and read the Scriptures with them. I have

generally spent six or eight hours a day in my study. The rest of the

day has been passed by me in taking exercise, making friendly visits

or cheerful meals. But now, to use an expression of my late gracious

master King William, whom I knew well for sixteen years, I feel ‘_que

je tire vers ma fin_.’”

The Doctors listened to the melancholy presage of the Bishop, and

having put the necessary questions to him, withdrew into the adjoining

apartment, for the purpose of consultation. I was now in company with

two physicians of great eminence, though of very different characters.

On the one side of me stood Sir Hans Sloane, who had shortly before

been created a baronet by His Majesty George the First, being the

first physician upon whom an hereditary title of honour had ever been

conferred; in his person tall and well made, sprightly in conversation,

easy, polite and engaging in his manners, by birth an Irishman. On the

other was Dr. Cheyne, a Scotchman, with an immense broad back, taking

snuff incessantly out of a ponderous gold box, and thus ever and anon

displaying to view his fat knuckles: a perfect Falstaff, for he was not

only a good portly man and a corpulent[13], but was almost as witty as

the knight himself, and his humour being heightened by his northern

brogue, he was exceeding mirthful. Indeed he was the most excellent

banterer of his time, a faculty he was often called upon to exercise,

to repel the lampoons which were made by others upon his extraordinary

personal appearance. Nothing could be more striking than the contrast

of the two celebrated men before me.

Sir Hans began by observing, that the age of the Bishop might throw

a doubt over the propriety of more bleeding, but he had so often

seen the advantage of repeated venesection, that he had the greatest

faith in that mode of treatment. “In one case particularly which I

saw abroad”--but here let me interrupt the Baronet for a moment, to

make an observation, which in the many consultations at which I have

been present, has more than once occurred to me. These deliberations

are generally proposed either because the attending physician is at a

loss what further to suggest, or that he wishes naturally enough to

divide the responsibility of the management of a dangerous disease.

They are held for the most part upon ailments of a _chronic_ nature,

that is upon such disorders as afford time and opportunity to form the

judgment, and decide upon a method of practice; for it is lucky that

in urgent diseases, or those which are called _acute_, the remedies

are simple, and that where delay would be dangerous, the means of

relief are obvious. In consultations, there is of course much scope

for diversity of opinion, but in the whole range of the plausible

reasoning which the conjectural science of medicine admits of, there

is nothing so imposing as a _case_; it bears down all before it. One

of the consulting Doctors, after hearing the history of the previous

treatment, advances that he has seen a case similar to the one, now

under consideration, in which he did so and so with manifest advantage;

the argument is irresistible----

But this by way of parenthesis. “In one case particularly (said Sir

Hans Sloane) which I saw abroad, I saved a man’s life, who complained

extremely of a great pain in his shoulder, or rather inside of his

pleura answering to that part, which increased on breathing high,

sighing or coughing, for the patient was troubled with a short cough.

The man was on board a ship bound for England, and it was taken by

all for sea sickness, but I told them, they were all deceived, and

forthwith ordered him to be bled in the arm to about ten ounces, and

gave him an emulsion, and a pectoral decoction of barley, liquorish

and raisins. I immediately found him much better, and ordered him to

continue this, and to take of crab’s eyes and sal prunellæ, of each

half a drachm, and to swallow morning and evening the half on’t,

drinking afterwards a pectoral draught, and in case of relapse I

ordered him to be bled again; which was necessary to be done, for

the ship chirurgeon, contrary to my desire, gave him a vomit: the

patient, poor fellow! knowing nothing of it, till it was down. His

pains thus returned, and I bled him twice on two several days, and

with an emulsion he was cured. I have found also (added Sir Hans), in

similar cases great advantage in applying a hot bag of parched salt to

the side; but bleeding is the main remedy. I have bled a patient five

times in her foot and arm in twelve hours.” Whilst the baronet was

speaking, the countenance of Dr. Cheyne underwent various changes, and

when mention was made of the emulsion, which if I am not mistaken, was

a compound of linseed oil, sugar-candy, and decoction of barley, it

assumed a very decided expression of disgust, for he was a bon vivant

of the first order. To the further employment of venesection, he was

rather averse, and insisted much upon the advanced age of the Bishop.

“An old man’s body (observed Dr. Cheyne), is like a plant dried by the

sun, its fibres are stiff, and juices decayed, and not as in youth able

to prepare new nutriment, to repair the loss of solids and fluids. For

this decay of the humours, the cure of the _cacochymia_ is necessary;

and to renovate the solids, we find no help like warm bathing and

unctions, and you yourself (said he archly to Sir Hans) must have

remarked, in your own native country, that the Irish live long, who

anoint themselves with salt butter.” What the remedies were which were

ultimately ordered for the aged Prelate, I do not now recollect, but

his own prediction was soon after fulfilled, and he died on the 17th of

March 1715.

Of Sir Hans Sloane, I shall have occasion to speak again more than

once, and I can do it with confidence, for I had many opportunities

of studying his peculiarities, and being in his company, particularly

at the conversaziones which were held at his house in Great

Russell-street, by Bloomsbury. It was observed of him, that he was

on these occasions rather a precise gentleman, and used to go out of

temper, when his guests spilled the coffee over his carpets. But he was

very lively in discourse, nor did he lack topics, and having been much

abroad, loved to talk of his travels. When only in his twenty-eighth

year, he had accompanied the Duke of Albemarle[14], on his appointment

to the government of the Island of Jamaica, in the quality of physician

to his Excellency, being chiefly induced by his attachment to natural

history, to undertake a voyage, which was not thought at that time

of day to be altogether free from danger. As he was the first man

of learning whom the love of science alone had led from England to

that distant part of the globe, and was besides of an age when both

activity of body, and ardour of mind concur to vanquish difficulties,

his travels were eminently successful. To say nothing of the other

curiosities with which he enriched his native country, he brought home

from Jamaica, and the other islands at which he touched, no fewer

than 800 different species of plants, a number much greater than had

ever been imported into England before by any individual. His stay in

Jamaica did not exceed fifteen months, for the Governor died, and the

Doctor returned home, and settled in London. About seven years before

the scene at the Bishop’s, he had published the first volume of his

Voyage to the Islands of Madera, Barbadoes, Nieves, St. Christophers,

and Jamaica, with the natural history of the herbs, and trees,

four-footed beasts, fishes, birds, insects, reptiles, &c., illustrated

with the figures of the things described, which had not heretofore been

engraved. In large copper-plates, as big as the life.

This was his first contribution to the general stock of knowledge,

and when questioned on the subject of his voyage, he was used to say,

that independently of the gratification of a laudable curiosity, he

deemed it a sort of duty in a medical man to visit distant countries,

for that the ancient and best physicians were wont to travel to the

places whence their drugs were brought, to inform themselves concerning

them. Speaking of the part of the globe which he had visited, he never

ceased to deplore the irreparable loss of fame which this country

had suffered, in not being the first to partake in the glory of its

discovery. When Bartholomew Columbus, said Sir Hans, was sent to

England by his brother Christopher, in 1488, to persuade Henry the

Seventh to fit him out for this expedition, a sea chart of the parts

of the world then known was produced, and a proposal made to the King,

but after much delay and many untoward circumstances, both the map and

the proposal were disregarded, and the money that had at first been set

apart for the purpose, and thought sufficient for the discovery of the

New World, was ultimately expended in the purchase of a suit of fine

tapestry hangings, brought from Antwerp, and afterwards used for the

decoration of Hampton Court.

The scene I have endeavoured to describe at the Bishop’s may serve

as a specimen of a consultation of that day, and has given me an

opportunity of introducing to the reader a very distinguished person,

for such certainly must Sir Hans Sloane be allowed to have been. About

four years after the time I now speak, he was elected President of the

College of Physicians; on the death of Sir Isaac Newton, was chosen to

fill the chair of the Royal Society; and after his own decease gave

origin to the British Museum.

It is not, however, my intention to follow Mead into all the details

of his private practice, but I will point out some of the material

improvements introduced by him in his art, and the progress which the

science of physic made in his hands.--Mr. Secretary Craggs applied

to him, in 1719, to find out the most effectual method to prevent

the spreading of the plague, which had proved so fatal that year

at Marseilles. My master accordingly published a discourse on that

subject, which was so well received as to go through no less than

seven editions in a twelvemonth. The kingdom was at this time governed

by Lords Justices, during the absence of His Majesty George the

First, who was then in Hanover. An act of parliament was passed, in

consequence of the advice given by Mead; but the Opposition of the

day, chiefly with the view to thwart the Ministry, caused two of its

wisest clauses to be given up the following year. These related to

the removing of sick persons from their habitations, and the making

of lines of demarcation about infected places. Against the adoption

of these prudent precautions an outcry was raised, that persons in

office intrusted with such powers might be tempted to abuse them, and

exercise their authority in a manner grievous to the subjects of the

kingdom. Dr. Mead, on the other hand, contended, that _Salus populi

supremo lex est_; and said that, if the plague should unhappily be

brought again into England, he was sure the people themselves would cry

out for help, notwithstanding wrong notions of liberty may sometimes

overpossess their minds, and make them, under the best of governments,

impatient of restraint. A clamour like this will probably be always

renewed whenever this subject comes to be discussed by the public;

the bold and the ignorant will excite it for the purposes of gainful

notoriety, and the selfish trader from a short-sighted view of his

own immediate interest. “But suppose for a moment,” said Mead in

conversation with a friend, “that the laws of quarantine were useless,

and that the fears entertained of the contagious nature of the plague

were without foundation, how can the commerce of this country be

benefited by the abolition of these regulations here, unless the rest

of civilized Europe adopt the same measure, and agree, at a sort of

general congress, to remove all restraints from their trade with the

Levant? But,” continued he, in an earnest manner, which had all the air

of prophecy, “depend upon it, whenever the doctrine of non-contagion

is revived in England (and it will be, even a hundred years hence), it

will always excite alarm among the nations who are more prudent than

ourselves, and less eager to entertain every kind of wild and visionary

speculation. Incalculable mischief will be done by the broaching of

this pernicious doctrine[15]: the speculators who adopt such opinions

should at least keep them to themselves, or if they will continue

their experiments, let them make them _in corpore vili_, and not upon

subjects which involve the general welfare of the community.”

Two or three years after this, my master’s attention was called to

another matter of equal, or perhaps greater importance than the one

just mentioned; and I had the satisfaction of witnessing another

prodigious step made towards the improvement of physic. This was no

less than the mitigation of that loathsome disease the small-pox, a

malady more formidable, and infinitely more fatal than the plague

itself. Lady Mary Wortley Montague having returned to England in

1722, was determined to introduce the practice of inoculating for the

small-pox, which she had witnessed in the East, and having before had

the operation performed successfully upon her son at Constantinople,

desired her family surgeon to engraft her daughter also with that

disease. The process was witnessed by three physicians and the family

apothecary; but though the success was complete, the profession still

remained in suspense, and caution prevented the repetition of the

experiment. But Caroline Princess of Wales, having nearly lost the life

of one of her daughters, the Princess Anne, by small-pox, was desirous

of having her children inoculated; and obtained from His Majesty George

the First, that six condemned felons should be pardoned for the good

of the public, on condition of their submitting to be inoculated.

Five of the felons contracted the disease favourably; the sixth, who

concealed having previously had the small-pox, was not infected--but

all escaped hanging. At the suggestion of my master, the Chinese method

was practised upon a seventh criminal, who was a young girl of eighteen

years of age. He accordingly introduced into her nostrils a tent,

wetted with matter taken out of ripe pustules, which nearly approaches

to the practice of the Chinese, who take the skins of some of the

dried pustules which have fallen from the body, and put them into a

porcelain bottle, stopping the mouth of it very closely with wax.

When they have a mind to infect any one, they make up three or four of

these skins (inserting between them one grain of musk) into a tent with

cotton, which they put up the nostrils. In the case of the girl whom my

master treated as above related, she, like those who were inoculated by

incisions made in the skin, fell sick and perfectly recovered.

The attention of the medical world was naturally much engrossed by this

new method, and every one was discussing the nature of the small-pox,

of which the contagious quality was one of the most remarkable

properties. “How strange!” said Mead, “that this property, apparently

so obvious, should not have been noticed by every writer on the

subject, from the very first appearance of this dangerous malady among

us. Yet Sydenham, discerning, as he has been called, does not take the

slightest notice of it, and perhaps even at this very day, had it not

been for the introduction of this novel method of communicating it, its

infectious quality might not have been universally admitted. One would

suppose that the merest tyro in an apothecary’s shop could not have

seen half a dozen cases of the small-pox without being convinced that

one person caught it from another. An additional striking example of

what has often been observed before, that the most plain and obvious

truths lie undiscovered till accident bring them to light.”--More

than twenty years after this, Dr. Mead published a treatise on the

small-pox and measles, which contained many valuable observations on

both these diseases, and also strong recommendations of the practice of

inoculation. To this treatise, which is written in a pure Latin style,

he subjoined a translation of Rhazes’ commentary on the small-pox into

the same language, a copy of which he had obtained from Leyden, through

the assistance of his friend and fellow-student Boerhaave, with whom my

master maintained a constant correspondence.

The ingenuity of mankind is exercised upon no subjects with so much

pertinacity and acuteness as upon those connected with medicine, and

it has often been disputed whether inoculation has lessened the number

of deaths by small-pox.--One thing however is certain, that it has

contributed to the comfort and security of all prudent individuals

and families; for though it cannot admit of a doubt that many formerly

passed through a long life without the disease, yet such a situation

must have proved a constant source of uneasiness to themselves and

friends, of restraint from many desirable pursuits, and at times of

absolute seclusion from the world.

The next improvement which Dr. Mead introduced into the practice of

medicine was entirely of his own invention, and serves to show that

his mind was not only capable of the extended views of philosophy,

but was alive to the most minute circumstances that could contribute

towards the perfection of his art. For the skill of a physician, though

it assume a more exalted character when displayed in the pursuit of

general science, is equally conspicuous, and perhaps more immediately

useful, when exerted in the discovery and employment of ingenious

contrivances for the relief of suffering humanity.

My master had often considered what could be the reason that, in cases

of persons labouring under dropsy, when the water is suddenly drawn

off, the patient swoons and frequently dies on the spot. A simple

expedient occurred to him, which was this: during the operation of

tapping, to make external pressure by the hands, and afterwards to

apply a bandage to the belly. I was present when this method was first

tried in the hospital, and afterwards frequently saw it used, more

especially in the case of Dame Mary Page, wife of Sir Gregory Page,

Bart., who was afflicted with this disease, and died March 4th, 1728,

in the fifty-sixth year of her age. In sixty-seven months she was

tapped sixty-six times and had two hundred and forty gallons of water

taken away, without ever once fearing the operation[16]. This was

certainly a most valuable discovery, and shows the advantage derivable

from the exercise of good sense and sound judgment; for Mead naturally

reflected, that the removal of the pressure of the accumulated water

caused the fibres suddenly to lose the extension which they had

previously acquired; and it as naturally occurred to him, that the

tendency to faint could only be obviated by substituting an external

support to the parts.

But it is now time, after having related the benefits he conferred

upon mankind by enlarging the boundaries of medical science, to revert

to some details of a more domestic character. It has been mentioned

before, when speaking of the first experiment of inoculation made in

this country, that zeal for his profession had on one occasion brought

my master acquainted with the veriest outcasts of society, and in

contact with convicted felons: it remains for me to relate how the

calls of friendship and generous sympathy led him again within the

walls of a prison.

In politics Mead was a hearty Whig, but he reckoned amongst his

friends many whose sentiments differed widely from his own. Garth,

Arbuthnot, and Freind were among his chief associates: with the

latter particularly he had always been on terms of the most friendly

intercourse. Recently the intimacy of these two distinguished

physicians had been much increased by a controversy in which they were

embarked in support of their own enlightened views on the subject of

the cooling treatment of the small-pox, against the attacks of the

ignorant and malevolent.

About this time Dr. Freind had been elected member of parliament for

Launceston in Cornwall, and acting in his station as a senator with

that warmth and freedom which was natural to him, he distinguished

himself by some able speeches against measures which he disapproved.

He was supposed to have had a hand in Atterbury’s plot, as it was then

called, for the restoration of the Stuart family; and having been also

one of the speakers in favour of the Bishop, this drew upon him so much

resentment that (the Habeas Corpus Act being at that time suspended)

he was, on March 15, 1722-3, committed to the Tower. Here he lay a

prisoner for some months, and my master did all he could to procure

his liberation: during his confinement his practice fell chiefly into

the hands of Mead. As soon as permission could be obtained, which was

not till he had been some time in prison, we paid a visit to Freind,

and entered that building whose low and sombre walls and bastions have

frowned on many an innocent and many a guilty head.

When his room door opened, we found him in the act of finishing a

Latin letter to my master, “On certain kinds of the Small-pox;” and,

as he perceived our approach, he came forward with an expression of

great delight in his countenance. “I was writing a letter to you, with

the permission of the governor of the Tower; and you are indebted,” he

added in a low whisper, “to my companion (looking at the warder, who

was in the same chamber with his prisoner) for its brevity: for I don’t

find that his presence assists me much in composition.”--During our

interview, Freind told Mead that he passed his time not unpleasantly,

for that he had begun to write the History of Physic, from the time

of Galen to the commencement of the sixteenth century; but that at

present he felt the necessity of consulting more books than the

circumstances in which he was now placed would give him an opportunity

of perusing--“Though I ought not to repine,” said he, “while I have

this book (pointing to a Greek Testament, which was lying on the

table), the daily and diligent perusal of which solaces my confinement.

I have lately been reading the Gospel of St. Luke, and I need not point

out to a scholar like yourself, and one who has paid so much attention

to what I may call the medical history of the Bible[17], how much

nearer the language of St. Luke, who was by profession a physician,

comes to the ancient standard of classical Greek than that of the other

Evangelists. To be sure it has a mixture of the Syriac phrase, which

may be easily allowed in one who was born a Syrian; yet the reading the

Greek authors, while he studied medicine, made his language without

dispute more exact. His style is sometimes even very flowing and

florid--as when, in the Acts of the Apostles, he describes the voyage

of St. Paul; and when he has occasion to speak of distempers or the

cure of them, you must have observed that he makes use of words more

proper for the subject than the others do. It is besides remarkable

that St. Luke is more particular in reciting all the miracles of our

Saviour in relation to _healing_ than the other Evangelists are; and

that he gives us one history which is omitted by the rest, viz. that

of raising the widow’s son at Nain.”

My master left the prisoner, with an assurance that he would use all

the influence he possessed to procure his liberty: “For,” said he,

smiling, “however much your cultivated mind is enabled to amuse itself

by reading and writing, I presume you will have no sort of objection to

resign your newly-acquired office of _Medicus Regius ad Turrim_[18].”

[Illustration: From a spirited medallion of Dr. Freind, carved in

box-wood. There is a portrait of him in the hall of Christ Church,

Oxford, upon which is inscribed the following stanza from the pen of

Anthony Alsop:

Cui suas artes, sua dona lætus

Et Lyram, et Venæ salientis ictum

Scire concessit, celerem et medendi

Delius usum.]

Very shortly afterwards, the opportunity of effecting this did actually

occur; for when Sir Robert Walpole, the minister of the day, sent

to consult Mead on account of an indisposition, he availed himself

of the occasion to plead the cause of the captive. He urged, that

though the warmth and freedom of Freind might have betrayed him into

some intemperate observations, yet no one could doubt his patriotic

feelings and loyalty; that his public services had been great, for he

had attended the Earl of Peterborough in his Spanish expedition as

an army physician; and had also accompanied in the same capacity the

Duke of Ormond into Flanders; that he deserved well of science, for

he had done much to call the attention of the world to the new and

sound principles of the Newtonian philosophy; and was besides a man of

excellent parts, a thorough scholar, and one whom all acknowledged to

be very able in his profession: and, finally, the Doctor refused to

prescribe for the Minister unless the prisoner was set at liberty. He

was almost immediately relieved from prison, and admitted to bail; his

sureties being Dr. Mead, Dr. Hulse, Dr. Levet, and Dr. Hale.

[Illustration: Mead’s house, at the corner of Powis Place, now No. 49.

There is a good garden behind the house, at the bottom of which was

a museum. After Mead’s death it was occupied by Sir Harry Grey, Lord

Grey’s uncle.]

The evening after this event, there was a numerous assembly at our

house in Great Ormond Street, attracted by the hope of meeting Freind,

and congratulating him on his liberation from the Tower. He came,

and every one was delighted to see him once more at large. Besides

the number of acquaintances and friends who were there, when it is

observed that no foreigner of any learning, taste, or even curiosity,

ever arrived in England without being introduced to my master (as it

would have been a reproach to have returned without seeing a scholar

and physician who was in correspondence with all the literati of

Europe), it may easily be imagined that on so remarkable an occasion

our _conversazione_ was a crowded one. When the party broke up, and

Freind and Arbuthnot were about to take their leave together, as they

lived in the same part of the town--the former in Albemarle Street, and

the latter in Cork Street, Burlington Gardens--Dr. Mead begged Freind

to step with him for a moment into his own private study, which was a

small room adjoining the library. There he presented him with the sum

of five thousand guineas, which he had received from Freind’s patients,

whom he had visited during his imprisonment. On returning to the great

room he wished them both good night, and jocosely said to Arbuthnot

(who happened to hold the office of Censor of the College that year),

“Now I commit our common friend here to your magisterial care and

guidance; see that he does not again get into trouble; and on the least

appearance of irregularity, report him to the President, Sir Hans

Sloane. I look to you, Arbuthnot, to preserve harmony[19] amongst us.”

These meetings, of which Dr. Mead was very fond, took place at stated

periods, and the visitors assembled in the library, a spacious room

about sixty feet long, of the richness of which an idea may be formed

by referring to the catalogue of the sale of its contents, which took

place after his death. The books, amounting to about ten thousand

volumes, were sold in twenty-eight days. The sale of the prints and

drawings occupied fourteen evenings, and the coins and medals were

disposed of in eight days. But at the time of which I speak, all these

literary treasures were collected under one roof; and the assemblage

of marble statues of Greek philosophers, Roman emperors, bronzes, gems,

intaglios, Etruscan vases, and other rare specimens of antiquity, was

most choice and valuable. Ranged along one side of the room stood

the busts of the great English poets--Shakespeare, Milton, and Pope:

they were of the size of life, of white marble, and by the hand of

Scheemakers. The corner in which I was usually placed was between a

statue of Hygeia[20] and a cabinet of iron which once belonged to Queen

Elizabeth. This cabinet was full of valuable coins, among which was a

medal of the Protector which Mead frequently exhibited as a curiosity

to his visitors: it had Oliver’s head in profile, with this legend,

“The Lord of Hosts, the word at Dunbar, Sept. 1650;” on the reverse,

the parliament sitting.

Placed in this favourite spot, I often overheard very interesting

discourse. On one occasion particularly, I recollect that the

conversation turned on the condition and rank of physicians in society.

The persons who took a leading part in the conversation were, if I

remember rightly, my master, Dr. Freind, Dr. Arbuthnot, and Mr. Ward,

the professor of rhetoric in Gresham College. The topic was suggested

by some accidental allusion to the attack which had been lately made by

Dr. Conyers Middleton on the dignity of medicine, in a dissertation[21]

written by him concerning the state of physic in old Rome. The

indignation of the physicians of that day was naturally roused, and

they were all up in arms against the author.

Dr. Mead began by asking, “What class of men have deserved better of

the public than physicians? How much, for instance, does not this

country owe to Linacre, the founder of our College? He was perhaps

the most learned man of his time, and on his travels was received by

Lorenzo de Medicis with the most marked distinction. That munificent

patron of literature granted him the privilege of attending the same

preceptors with his own sons, and Linacre improved the opportunities he

enjoyed with great diligence and success. At Florence, under Demetrius

Chalcondylas, who had fled from Constantinople when it was taken by the

Turks, he acquired a perfect knowledge of the Greek language.

“He studied eloquence at Bologna under Politian, one of the most

elegant Latinists in Europe; and while he was at Rome he devoted

himself to medicine and the study of natural philosophy, under

Hermolaus Barbarus. Linacre was the first Englishman who read Aristotle

and Galen in the original Greek. On his return to England, having taken

the degree of M.D. at Oxford, he gave lectures in physic, and taught

the Greek language in that university. His reputation soon became so

high, that King Henry VII. called him to court, and intrusted him with

the care of the health and education of his son Prince Arthur. To show

the extent of his acquirements, I may mention, that he instructed

Princess Catherine in the Italian language, and that he published a

work on mathematics, which he dedicated to his pupil Prince Arthur.

A treatise on grammar, which has universally been acknowledged to be

a work of great erudition, is from the pen of Linacre: Melancthon,

indeed, pronounces it to be inferior to none of its kind then extant.

In his own style he reminds one of the elegance of Terence, and in his

medical treatises very nearly approaches the clear and perspicuous

language of Celsus.

[Illustration: From a Portrait of Linacre by Holbein, in Kensington

Palace, a copy of which hangs over the fireplace in the Censor’s Room

of the College of Physicians.]

“Linacre was successively Physician to Henry the Seventh, Henry the

Eighth, Edward the Sixth, and to the Princess Mary. He established

lectures on physic in both Universities; and he was the founder of

our Royal College of Physicians, of which he was the first President,

holding that office during the last seven years of his life. He was

indeed,” said Mead, “a most accomplished scholar: the Latin style

of Linacre is so pure and elegant as to rank him amongst the finest

writers of his age; his friend Erasmus saying of him that he was ‘_vir

non exacti tantum, sed severi judicii_.’--Though the medical writings

of Linacre are only translations, yet we cannot but form a favourable

opinion of his professional skill, not only from the general estimation

of his contemporaries, but from the sagacity of his prognosis in the

case of his friend Lily the celebrated grammarian, as well as from the

rational simplicity of the method by which he relieved Erasmus in a

painful fit of the gravel.”

There was a pause here, and Mr. Professor Ward asked my master if it

was true that Linacre had, in the latter part of his life, changed his

profession, and entered into the priesthood.

MEAD. “Yes, it was undoubtedly true, but he still to his dying day had

his thoughts upon physic, for it was towards the close of his life that

he projected the College of Physicians, of which he remained President

till his death. It was also true that, on first applying himself to the

study of divinity, he was a most sincere searcher of the Scriptures,

studying the Bible with great avidity; and that on reading the 5th,

6th, and 7th chapters of St. Matthew, he threw the book away, and swore

that this was either not the Gospel, or we were not Christians.”

FREIND. “Your account of Linacre is quite correct, and you have

certainly not passed upon him a greater eulogium than he deserves.

If any other example were required to prove to the world how much

some of the members of our body have done to further the cause of

learning, there is one very ready to be cited in the physician to whom

we owe the compilation of the first annals of our College. Though an

Englishman, we find Dr. Caius reading lectures on Aristotle in the

university of Padua; and afterwards using the influence he possessed at

court, where he was Physician to Queen Mary, in behalf of literature:

for it was at his instance that a licence was obtained from the Queen

to advance Gonvil-hall at Cambridge, and incorporate it under the

name of Gonvil and Caius College. This College he endowed afterwards

with considerable estates for the maintenance of an additional number

of fellows and scholars. He was Fellow, Censor, and President of the

London College; and even in advanced life never absented himself from

our meetings without a dispensation. He was buried in the Chapel of

the College he had founded at Cambridge; and the simple inscription

upon his monument, while it records the date of his death, adds a

sentiment which should reconcile us to the frail and doubtful tenure of

our present existence, by the certainty and permanence of well-merited

posthumous fame:--

‘Fui Caius. Vivit post funera virtus. Obiit 1573, Æt. 63.’”

MEAD. “The zeal displayed by Caius in the cause of literature deserves

every commendation, but it is perhaps more to our purpose to dwell upon

the claim he has upon our grateful remembrance as the founder of the

Science of Anatomy in England. According to the fashion of his day,

he had gone abroad in pursuit of knowledge; at Padua had lived during

eight months in the same house with Vesalius, and devoted himself with

the same ardour to the studies of his celebrated companion: and let it

never be forgotten that Caius, on his return from Italy, imbued with

the spirit of inquiry and enlightened by the lamp of science lately

kindled in that country, taught Anatomy to the Surgeons in their

own Hall. Here, beyond the precincts of the College of Physicians,

reflecting great honour upon that body, adding to his own reputation

and conferring no small advantage on the Surgeons, he laid that solid

foundation for the study of Anatomy, to which may easily be traced the

glory and after discoveries of Harvey. Caius began to lecture to the

Surgeons soon after their incorporation (1540), and continued to do

so, for twenty years, even after he had been elected President of our

College and appointed Physician to the Court. The privilege which about

this time had been granted to the Surgeons of obtaining annually four

bodies of executed felons for the purpose of dissection, was doubtless

the cause why the Hall of the Surgeons was selected for the lectures

of Caius: for when in 1564 a similar permission was allowed to the

Physicians by Queen Elizabeth, anatomical prælections were held at

their own College. Dissections now began to be made frequently here,

and the year before the death of Caius, an order is registered in our

Annals that three bodies should be procured at the expense of the

College, two _sectionis experiundi causâ_, and the third to be made

‘a public anatomy of.’ But it is not only by reference to our Annals

that it appears to have been the merit of Caius to have given the first

impulse to these studies, for the fact is mentioned by contemporary

writers.--William Bulleine, M. D., in a very curious book[22],

published in 1579, enumerates among the cunning men, profitable to

the commonwealth, the learned Doctor, M. John Kaius, as the first who

taught by learned lectures and the _secrete anothomies_, the worthy

fraternity of Chirurgeons, of the most ancient and famous city of

London.”

DR. FREIND. “I have not lately, as you all know, had an opportunity of

consulting any books, but I recollect, some time ago, having obtained

permission to examine the early volumes of our Annals, and being much

struck with the importance attached to the study of anatomy by our

ancestors, and the labour and assiduity with which they appear to have

cultivated that science. If my memory does not fail me, it was in 1581,

about eight years after the death of Caius, that a Lecture on Anatomy

was regularly founded and endowed at the College. It was in that year

that the Lord Lumley and Dr. Caldwall, signified their benefactions for

that purpose, and the College to show itself worthy of the liberality

of those generous patrons, though possessing very scanty funds,

immediately voted all the money in their treasurer’s hands to enlarge

their building, render it more suitable to their meetings, and more

convenient for the delivery of these public lectures. Their poor stock,

it would seem, amounted only to £100, but it must always be kept in

mind that the funds of our body have never been replenished out of the

coffers of the state, but have been furnished solely by the occasional

donations of private individuals, or the legacies and contributions of

its own members. In the time of the Protectorate their treasury was at

its lowest ebb, and yet it is a subject of pride that even then the

ardour of its members for anatomical research was unabated, for it was

during this period that Glisson, whom your friend Boerhaave calls the

‘most accurate of anatomists,’ published his Lectures on the Structure

of the Liver, dedicating his work to the University of Cambridge,

_ornatissimoque_ Medicorum Londinensium Collegio, thus avoiding, you

observe, all allusion to the regal character of our foundation. But

what wonder, when the sour and crabbed Republicans of those days were

so cautious on this head, that in reciting the Lord’s Prayer, they

would not say--‘Thy kingdom come,’ but always ‘Thy commonwealth

come.’--To return however to the Lumleian Lectures, two years after

their endowment, the College built a spacious Anatomical Theatre in

Knight Rider Street, and here Harvey must have given his first public

demonstrations of the circulation of the blood, for he was elected

Reader[23] in Anatomy in 1615. The mention of Caius, Harvey, and

Glisson, suggests the names of the other great anatomists of that age;

and it cannot fail to strike us as a matter of wonder and admiration,

that all the important discoveries in Physiology were made in a very

short space of time. In the fifty years which elapsed from 1620 to

1670, greater strides were made in enlarging our knowledge of the

functions of the living animal body, than had ever been made before,

or will probably ever be made again. For reflect only, that in this

interval the brilliant discoveries of the circulation of the blood, of

the nature of respiration, of the curious system of vessels called

lacteals, as well as of that to which the general name of absorbents

has been given, took place. In fact the means by which we live and

breathe, by which our bodies are nourished, grow, change, and finally

decay, were for the first time pointed out and explained.

“In 1622, Aselli discovered the Lacteals.

“In 1628, Harvey published his Doctrine of the Circulation of the Blood.

“In 1647, The Thoracic Duct and Receptaculum Chyli were pointed out by

Pecquet.

“In 1651, The Lymphatics were demonstrated by Rudbeck. And

“In 1668, Mayow taught that the oxygen of the air, which had lately

been discovered, mixed with the blood in the lungs: in short, published

a Theory, in which you will find the germ of all subsequent opinions on

the nature of Respiration.

“It is curious however to reflect that, notwithstanding the gigantic

steps which Physiology was making at this time here, and in some

parts of Europe, it remained stationary in others; in Germany, for

instance, it seems to have been about this period pretty much in the

same state in which it had been left by Galen, when the structure of

apes was described as the anatomy of man. So late even as the middle

of the seventeenth century, about the very time when Lower was making,

at Oxford, the daring and original experiment of transfusion[24], or

causing the arterial blood of one animal to pass into the jugular vein

of another (which, by the by, was approved of by the Royal Society,

before whom it was made, as an expedient likely to be useful after

severe hæmorrhages), a grave dispute arose in Germany, as to the

position of the heart itself. The contest was terminated, at length, by

the Professors of Heidelberg, where the question was agitated, having

recourse to the delicate experiment of killing a pig in the presence

of the Margrave of Baden-Durlach, and clearly proving to his Highness,

who then laboured under palpitation of the heart, that it really was

situated on the left side of the thorax. The result of this important

discovery was fatal to the fortunes of his Highness’ physician; who,

though he stoutly maintained by a refinement of courtly flattery, that

the heart of his master could not have a position similar to that of a

pig, was dismissed in disgrace. But it is unnecessary to dwell longer

upon the superiority of our English anatomists, or to recapitulate the

additions made to this branch of knowledge by the former Fellows of

our College, for the Capsule[25] of Glisson, the _Tubercle_ of Lower,

and the _Circle_ of Willis, are terms incorporated with the science

itself, and, like the capes, islands, and bays, which bear the names

of our early navigators, will serve to perpetuate the fame of these

original discoverers. Of Willis, the last of these worthies whom I

mentioned, let me observe, before I finish, that, though his Anatomy

of the Brain is deservedly praised for the accuracy of research with

which it abounds, yet it contains some notions rather fanciful, since

he lodges sensation in the corpus striatum, memory and imagination in

the medullary part of the brain[26].”

The conversation now became more general: those who had listened

to the display of learning and accurate research which Dr. Freind

and my master had made, expressed their admiration at the prodigious

acquisitions made by the science of medicine, during the first half

of the seventeenth century, and each suggested some additional fact

relating to that subject. Among others there was one whose name I

cannot now recall, but who appeared to have devoted himself more

particularly to the study of the Materia Medica, who observed, that

this sudden and great increase of our knowledge of the animal economy,

and consequently of our acquaintance with the true causes of disease,

was perhaps not more remarkable than the important additions which were

made about this time to our list of remedies. It was within the same

memorable period, he said, that some of our most efficient drugs were

either first made known to the world, or first introduced into general

use. It will be sufficient to mention bark, ipecacuanha, mercury, and

antimony; to which four remedies, if we add opium, it may be questioned

whether we should not possess a tolerably complete Materia Medica.

The history and fate of medicines is a subject of great curiosity,

depending upon the most fortuitous circumstances; for instance,

according to the earliest account of the discovery of bark, its use

was accidentally learned in the following manner:--Some cinchona trees

being thrown into a pool of water in Peru, lay there till the water

became so bitter that every body refused to drink it. However, one of

the neighbouring inhabitants being seized with a violent paroxysm of

fever, and finding no other water to quench his thirst, was forced to

drink of this, by which he was perfectly cured. He afterwards related

the circumstance to others, and prevailed upon some of his friends, who

were ill of fever, to make use of the same remedy, with whom it proved

equally successful[27]. But it was not only the casual experience

of an uncivilized people which discovered this valuable remedy, but

the first prejudices against its use, which were very strong, were

counteracted by the influence of a religious sect (the Jesuits),

totally unconnected with the practice of medicine; and physicians were

ultimately taught how to use it with effect by a man who was vilified

both at home and abroad as an ignorant empiric. Sydenham, when speaking

of bark, is very contradictory, and seems to have been afraid to

employ it efficiently; and it was not till Louis the Fourteenth bought

the secret of the method of giving it, that the real virtues of this

inestimable drug were properly felt and universally acknowledged. While

Talbor, the person of whom the French King had made this purchase, was

performing at Paris, about fifty years ago, the cure of Monseigneur,

Madame de Sevigné, in one of her letters, describes, in the most

amusing manner, the anxiety of every one at court, and the rage of M.

D’Aquin, first physician to Louis:--“_C’est dommage, que Moliere soit

mort, il feroit une scene merveilleuse de D’Aquin, qui est enragé de

n’avoir pas le bon remède, et de tous les autres médecins, qui sont

accablés par les experiences, par le succès, et par les propheties

comme divines, de_ ce petit homme. _Le Roi lui fait composer son

remède devant lui_,” &c. &c. Sir R. Talbor (for he was knighted) died

the year after this triumphant exhibition of his skill, and Louis the

Fourteenth then ordered the secret to be published for the benefit of

the world. The same Monarch also first introduced ipecacuanha into

general practice, having induced Helvetius to employ it largely for

the cure of dysentery in the Hotel Dieu, about the year 1679. But

antimony has had the most inconstant fortune, for though it was known

and employed as a remedy as early as the twelfth century, yet Valentine

the Monk gave it so indiscreetly, and made experiments with such ill

success upon the unhappy brethren of his Convent, that the metal is

said to have speedily returned to the mines whence it had recently

emerged. Three hundred years afterwards it began to be talked of again;

but in 1566, by a decree of the faculty of Paris, confirmed by an arrêt

of Parliament, it was condemned as a poison, and was not allowed to be

openly prescribed as a remedy till 1650; indeed it is chiefly to Sir

Theodore Mayerne that we are indebted for the various preparations of

antimony, as well as of those of mercury[28].

DR. MEAD. “It was fortunate that our knowledge of the means of

combating disease kept pace with our more correct views of Physiology,

and of course more distinct notions of morbid changes of structure.

But to return to the subject of anatomy: when I was appointed by the

Company of Surgeons to read Anatomical Lectures in their Hall, which

I did for six or seven years, I always insisted strongly upon the

obligations their branch of the profession was under to the early

Fellows of the College of Physicians, and I hope, as information

becomes more diffused, and scientific attainments more universal, the

Surgeons themselves will not be so ungrateful as to forget or disown it.

“It would be easy to go on enumerating the medical men whose names

are allied with the history of science and classical literature in

England, but your own memories will fill up the catalogue. Our archives

contain several MSS. which, if published, would benefit the republic of

letters: I have often regretted that Hamey’s notes and criticisms upon

the works of Aristophanes have never yet been given to the world.”

[Illustration: From a portrait of Hamey in the dining-room of the

College.]

FREIND. “It was intended that they should have been so. My friend the

Bishop of Rochester recommended that they should be sent to Kuster,

that learned critic to whom we owe the late excellent edition[29]

of the Greek poet which was done in Holland; but the work was

unfortunately too far advanced in the press before the offer was made,

so that Hamey’s MS. still remains in the College Library.”

MEAD. “I have been much amused with the character drawn of Hamey by

his biographer: it is full of quaintness and antithesis; and, if I

recollect perfectly, is to the following effect. ‘He was a consummate

scholar without pedantry, a complete philosopher without any taint

of infidelity; learned without vanity, grave without moroseness,

solemn without preciseness, pleasant without levity, regular without

formality, nice without effeminacy, generous without prodigality,

and religious without hypocrisy.’--These are a few of the learned

physicians who have been the pillars and ornaments of the profession;

which, so far from having been considered formerly a degrading one,

has not only been patronized by royal and noble benefactors, but

we boast of some of the latter quality amongst our own body. The

Marquess of Dorchester not only left us his library, enriched with

the best books, but was enrolled amongst our Fellows, assisted at our

meetings, and exerted himself in every possible way to promote the

study of medicine.“--[My master here grew warm, and turning round to

Mr. Professor Ward, more particularly addressed himself to him:]--”Why

amongst the Athenians there was a law that no slave nor woman should

dare to study medicine. Have not the greatest philosophers of antiquity

devoted themselves to it? have not Pythagoras, Democritus, and

Aristotle, written expressly upon botany, anatomy, and physic? It is

well known that the inhabitants of Smyrna associated upon the coins[30]

of that city the names of their celebrated physicians with the effigies

of their gods. I am aware that amongst the Romans our art was not held

in such high esteem; but it is well known that in the time of Julius

Cæsar, when physicians came from Greece (the country whence the Romans

derived all their polite learning and knowledge of the fine arts), they

were complimented with the freedom of the Eternal City, a privilege of

which that proud people was extremely jealous.”

ARBUTHNOT. “What you have said will show the dignity of our art, and

who will doubt of its liberality who reflects for a moment on the

generous and spirited conduct of our poor friend Garth, whose death

we all deplore? To whom but a Physician was the corpse of Dryden

indebted for a suitable interment? We all recollect how he caused it

to be brought and placed in our College, proposed and encouraged a

subscription for the expense of the funeral, pronounced an oration over

the remains of the great Poet, and afterwards attended the solemnity

from Warwick Lane to Westminster Abbey, where it was conveyed on the

13th May, 1700, attended by more than a hundred coaches.

[Illustration: From a portrait of Garth by Sir Godfrey Kneller, in the

Censor’s Room of the College.]

“But Garth was indeed the best-natured of men: besides being a polite

scholar, ever attentive to the honour of the faculty, and never

stooping to prostitute the dignity of the profession through mean or

sordid views of self-interest[31].”

MEAD. “The loss of such a man we shall all long lament: besides there

is something in the death of a colleague peculiarly melancholy. His

mind has been formed by the same studies, the same motives must

have actuated his conduct, he must have been influenced by the same

hopes and fears, and run pretty nearly the same career in life with

ourselves; and at his death we are forcibly struck with the futility

of all our plans, the emptiness and littleness of all our schemes of

ambition. I know not when I have been more affected than in reading,

a few days ago, the story of the death of Dr. Fox as told by Hamey,

in his _Bustorum aliquot Reliquiæ_. He was a younger son of Fox the

martyrologist, and had been a warm friend and active patron of Hamey,

the great benefactor, and, as I may call him, second founder of our

College. In that curious MS. which contains the characters of his

contemporary physicians, statesmen, and other celebrated persons of

his day, Hamey speaks in the most pathetic terms of the death-bed

scene of his friend, and I will endeavour to recollect the precise

Latin expressions in which Fox takes leave of him. _Mi amice, vale;

crastinus dies liberabit tuum ab his angustiis. Et vale dixisse

iterum, porrectâque quam suspicabar frigidiore mauu, expressisse

mihi lacrymas, meamque illam imbelliam, averso leviter capite,

redarguisse et susurrasse. Hoccine est philosophari? et fructum

promere tot colloquiorum?_ Hamey adds, _Victus ego dolore et pudore;

me domum confero arbitratus in ista ἀμηχανία levius fore audire cœtera

quam videre_. But let us change this melancholy subject. Tell us,”

addressing Arbuthnot, “are we to expect another volume of the Memoirs

of Martinus Scriblerus; or are Pope, Swift, and yourself tired of

the project? I hope there is not an end of a scheme which was so

calculated, by ridiculing the abuse of human learning, to benefit the

cause of polite letters.”

The answer of that brilliant wit and scholar was unfavourable; and it

evidently appeared, from the dejected tone in which he spoke, that the

change in the fortunes of the illustrious triumvirate which had been

occasioned by the death of Queen Anne, had depressed his spirits, and

terminated the plan.

Most of the party had now assembled round Dr. Mead, to listen to this

hasty recital of the merits of the distinguished physicians of former

days. Of the names and persons of many of those present that evening,

I have now no recollection: but, even at this distance of time, the

figure of one who leaned on the arm of Arbuthnot is distinctly present

to my imagination. He was protuberant before and behind, and used

humorously to compare himself to a spider; and was so feeble that he

could not, as I have heard, dress or undress himself, and was always

wrapped up in fur and flannel, besides wearing a bodice of stiff

canvas. In this description every one will recognise the form of

Pope. He took no part in the conversation; but his fine, sharp, and

piercing eye, directed as it was alternately to the different speakers,

indicated that he felt no common concern in the subject. But he did

not stay long; pleading as an apology for his departure an attack

of his old enemy the headache, and the intention of returning to

Twickenham[32] that evening. As he passed by the spot in which I was

placed, I heard him say to a friend who accompanied him, and who, like

himself, had just taken leave of Dr. Mead: “I highly esteem and love

that worthy man. His unaffected humanity and benevolence have stifled

much of that envy which his eminence in his profession would otherwise

have drawn out; and, indeed, I ought to speak well of his profession,

for there is no end of my kind treatment from the faculty. They are in

general the most amiable companions and the best friends, as well as

the most learned men I know.”

The party now moved to a little distance to inspect a bust of Harvey,

which my master had lately caused to be executed by an excellent hand,

from an original picture in his possession. “This bust,” said Mead, “I

intend to present to the College, to replace in some measure the statue

of Harvey which was erected to him during his lifetime, and stood in

the hall of our former building, and which was no doubt lost in the

great fire. I have long thought it a reproach that we should not at

least possess a bust of _him_ who, to use the strong and figurative

language of the Latin inscription, gave motion to the blood, and origin

to animals, and must ever be hailed by us _Stator Perpetuus_.”

[Illustration: Now placed in the Theatre of the College.]

FREIND. “The skill of the sculptor has been successfully employed here.

The mild features of the old man are well expressed, and exhibit with

fidelity his candid and gentle nature. I see him now, in my mind’s

eye, after the surrender of Oxford to the Parliament, and the loss

of his wardenship of Merton College, in his retirement at Richmond.

The visit paid him there by his intimate friend Dr. George Ent, is

related in so lively and pleasing a manner, that one is almost present

at the interview. It was in the year 1651, when Harvey was in his

seventy-first year. ‘I found him,’ says Ent, ‘in his seclusion, not far

from town, with a sprightly and cheerful countenance, investigating,

like Democritus, the nature of things. Asking if all was well with him,

‘How can that be?’ replied Harvey, ‘when the state is so agitated with

storms, and I myself am yet in the open sea? And, indeed,’ added he,

‘were not my mind solaced by my studies, and the recollection of the

observations I have formerly made, there is nothing which should make

me desirous of a longer continuance. But thus employed, this obscure

life, and vacation from public cares, which disquiets other minds, is

the medicine of mine.’ Who does not admire,” continued Freind, “the

modest altercation that arose between the great discoverer of the

circulation of the blood, and Dr. Ent, about the publication of those

most valuable papers containing his Exercitations on the Generation of

Animals? One may imagine him replying to the importunity of his friend,

that though, at his advanced age, it was of little consequence what the

world thought of his writings, yet he could never forget, after the

publication, at Frankfort, in 1628, of his doctrine of the circulation

of the blood, that such was the general prejudice against him as an

innovator, that his practice as a physician considerably declined. To

be sure, he might look upon himself as recompensed in some degree for

the ingratitude of the public by the regard and favour of his royal

master Charles I. whose attachment to the arts and sciences formed

a conspicuous part of his character. For the King, with some of the

noblest persons about the Court, condescended to be spectators and

witnesses of his experiments; and, indeed, His Majesty took so much

interest in his anatomical researches, that, with respect to these

very inquiries about the nature of generation, he had received much

assistance from the opportunities afforded him of dissecting a vast

number of animals, which were killed in the King’s favourite diversion

of stag-hunting.

“Dr. Ent at last succeeded in obtaining the papers; and concludes the

account of their interview by saying, ‘I went from him like another

Jason in possession of the golden fleece; and when I came home, and

perused the pieces singly, I was amazed that so vast a treasure should

have been so long hidden.’”

MR. PROFESSOR WARD. “You mention the destruction of a former building;

pray, where did the College meet prior to the erection of the present

edifice in Warwick Lane? Was it not somewhere in the neighbourhood of

St. Paul’s?”

DR. MEAD. “I am glad you have asked me that question, for the

vicissitudes in the fortunes of our body will gradually be forgotten,

and it would be very desirable before they are entirely blotted out

from our memory, or misrepresented by traditional inaccuracy, that

some more public record should be given of them, than that which is

contained in our archives. Though as a narrative of events, which has

now been continued uninterruptedly for about two centuries[33], it

would be difficult to find another of fidelity and interest equal to

that furnished by the Annals of the College.

[Sidenote: 1518.] “Its very first meetings immediately after its

establishment were held in the house of Linacre, called the stone

house, Knight-Rider Street, which still belongs to the College.

[Illustration: The stone house, No. 5, Knight-Rider Street. The

armorial ensigns of the College are placed between the two centre

windows of the first floor. Their proper blazon is as follows:--

Sable, a hand proper, vested argent, issuant out of clouds in chief of

the second, rayonée, Or, feeling the pulse of an arm in fesse, proper,

issuant from the sinister side of the shield, vested argent; in base a

pomegranate between five demi-fleurs-de-lis bordering the edge of the

escutcheon, Or.

These arms were obtained in 1546. Johanne Barker, Gartero Armorum

Rege.]

“The front of that building was appropriated to a Library, of the

condition or extent of which it may be difficult to form any tolerable

guess after the lapse of so many years. It would of course contain

copies of Linacre’s[34] own works, and there are records of an early

date [Sidenote: 1603.] of donations and bequests made to it of books,

globes, mathematical instruments, and minerals.

“Rather more than forty years had elapsed from the death of Linacre,

before permission having been obtained from Queen Elizabeth, [Sidenote:

1564.] dissections began to be performed within the walls of the

College, and, if I am not mistaken, Dr. Lopus was the first Physician

appointed to give a public demonstration.

[Sidenote: 1583.] “As soon as the Lumleian Lectures were founded, a

spacious Anatomical Theatre was built, adjoining the house of Linacre,

and here [Sidenote: 1615.] Harvey gave his first Course of Lectures.

“But about the time of the accession of Charles the First,

notwithstanding the condition of its treasury, the College removed

to another spot, and were enabled by the contributions of its own

Members, assisted by the liberality of two distinguished individuals,

to take a house of the Dean and Chapter of St. Paul’s, at the bottom

of Amen Corner. The lease of these premises was afterwards, from

time to time renewed, a botanical garden adjoining was planted, and

[Sidenote: 1641.] an Anatomical Theatre built, which last was rendered

not only commodious, but even ornamental, by the bequest of one of our

Fellows[35].

“The part of the house not actually required for the College meetings,

was let to one of its members, upon certain conditions, one of which

was that he should maintain the garden handsomely; and, small as it

was, the rent paid by this occupant was the only permanent revenue at

that time accruing to the College; for the fees of admission were of

course uncertain.

“In the calamities and troubles of the civil wars, it was impossible

for the College not to be involved, and [Sidenote: 1643.] when the

Parliament, by an ordinance of the two Houses, imposed the heaviest and

most unusual taxes, seizing, wherever they had power, upon the revenues

of the King’s party, they were reduced to the greatest distress. On the

City of London alone, besides an imposition of the five and twentieth

part of every man’s substance, a weekly assessment was levied of

£10,000, of which the portion allotted to the College was £5 per week.

In consequence of these exactions they became much embarrassed, were

for a time unable to pay the rent due to St. Paul’s, and to add to

their distress, when it seemed to be the intention of many leaders in

Parliament to admit of no established religion, their premises were

condemned, as part of the property of the church, to be sold by public

auction. To prevent their falling into the hands of any illiberal

proprietor, [Sidenote: 1649.] Dr. Hamey became the purchaser of the

house and garden, which two years afterwards he gave in perpetuity to

his colleagues. This he did most opportunely, since the design then

entertained by the great Harvey of building a Museum in the College

Garden might otherwise have been frustrated. This generous project was

announced at one of the meetings, in the following modest manner:--

“‘If (said the President[36]) I can procure one that will build us a

library and a repository for simples and rarities, such an one as shall

be suitable and honourable to the College, will you assent to have it

done or no, and give me leave, and such others as I shall desire, to

be the designers and overlookers of the work, both for conveniency and

ornament?’

“The College, as might be expected, assented most willingly to

so liberal a proposal, and voted a statue, bearing the following

inscription on its pedestal, to be placed in their Hall, in honour of

Harvey, who was the person alluded to in the speech of the President:--

GULIELMO HARVEIO

VIRO MONUMENTIS SUIS IMMORTALI

HOC INSUPER COLLEGIUM MEDICORUM LONDINENSE

POSUIT

QUI ENIM SANGUINIS MOTUM

UT ET

ANIMALIBUS ORTUM DEDIT MERUIT ESSE

STATOR PERPETUUS

The building was now begun, and finished the following year, and when

the Fellows had all met [Sidenote: 1653.] on the 2d of February, the

doors of the Museum being thrown open, the munificent old man, for he

was now nearly eighty years old, in the most benevolent manner, and

wishing all prosperity to the Republic of Medicine, presented at once

the Mansion and all its valuable contents to the College[37]. He then

laid down the office of Professor of Anatomy and Surgery, which he had

hitherto held; when Glisson was appointed to succeed him. The garden,

of an irregular form, extended as far as the Old Bailey to the west,

and towards the south reached to the Church of St. Martin, Ludgate, and

the Museum of Harvey must have stood very near to the spot upon which

Stationers Hall has since been built. It consisted of an elegantly

furnished convocation room, and a library filled with choice books

and surgical instruments. Every patron of learning hastened to enrich

this edifice; the Marquis of Dorchester gave £100, [Sidenote: 1655.]

for the purchase of books; the famous Selden[38] left by will some

curious oriental MSS. relating to physic, and Elias Ashmole, with other

benefactors, presented us with various scarce and valuable volumes. In

the Museum of Harvey were deposited the curiosities of the College, and

here also were affixed honorary tablets to the memory of those who had

deserved well of the community. The generous Hamey was not forgotten,

and his kind intervention [Sidenote: 1658.] in support of the declining

fortunes of the College was thus recorded in marble.

ό δε καιρος οξυς.

BALDUINO HAMÆO Med. Doctori, Balduini (in Moscorum aulâ

Juvenili ætate Archiatri) filio, Socio suo, ac ante annos

aliquot opportunuo imprimis Benefactori, hoc Marmor (illius

animo oblatâ statuâ acceptius) Dedicat.

Societas An. MDCLVIII.

“The Museum of Harvey, besides medical books, contained Treatises on

Geometry, Geography, Astronomy, Music, Optics, Natural History, and

Travels, and was under the following regulations:--It was to be open

on Fridays, from two till five o’clock in the summer, but only till

four in the winter season; also during all meetings of the College and

whenever else the CUSTOS being at leisure should choose to be present;

but no books were allowed to be taken out. The old library room was

henceforth appropriated to the Lectures, and [Sidenote: 1654.] the

first public meeting of the College (_in novo Triclinio_) was held in

March. Here also, as in a sort of state apartment, it was the custom to

receive distinguished and illustrious visitors: for it was not uncommon

in those days for the highest personages in the kingdom to attend our

Lectures. When Charles the Second condescended to be present at the

anatomical prælections of Dr. Ent, at the conclusion of the Lecture,

the royal party retiring from the Theatre, was received in the Museum

of Harvey, and on this occasion [Sidenote: 1635.] His Majesty was

graciously pleased to confer the honour of knighthood upon the lecturer.

“This event took place the year before the fire of London, which,

while it destroyed almost the whole of the City, consumed our College,

and the greatest part of our Library[39].”

The mention of this memorable event occasioned a pause in the

conversation, and one of our guests, not of the profession, but who,

like all persons of an inquisitive turn of mind, was fond of medical

subjects, begged to ask Dr. Mead a question connected with that great

catastrophe. This is a kind of curiosity that has often struck me as

something very amusing; to be sure there can be no considerations

more interesting to all mankind than those which relate to the various

conditions of health and disease; but it is astonishing to see the

avidity with which people of cultivated understandings listen to the

details of professional lore (provided they be not couched in terms

too technical), and how much more easily they are satisfied with

explanations, and convinced by specious arguments, than the _verè

adepti_ themselves.

“I beg your pardon,” said this gentleman to my master, “for

interrupting your history of the College, but the mention of the great

fire of London unavoidably suggests somehow or other the idea of the

plague, from the visitations of which we have been free ever since the

occurrence of that dreadful conflagration. How do you connect, Doctor,

the fire of London with the disappearance of the plague; in short,

what effect has the one had upon the other? The subject of the plague

occupied your pen some three years ago, and I should like to hear your

opinion upon this matter.”

DR. MEAD. [Sidenote: 1666.] “The fire began, as you know, upon the 2nd

of September, and consumed about one-fifth of the town of London,

burning an extent of about two miles in length, and one in breadth. But

it was the wealthiest and the best part of the town that was destroyed;

and it is even said, that had it not been for the opposition of some

tenacious and avaricious men, aldermen particularly, who would not

permit their houses to be blown up, in order to make a wide gap, the

conflagration might have been stopped almost at its first breaking

out. But this was thought too great a sacrifice, and the devouring

element continued its ravages uncontrolled. A strong east wind drove

the flames impetuously forward; the sky was like the top of a burning

oven, and the light of the fire was seen for forty miles round about

for many nights. The stones of St. Paul’s are represented as flying

like granados, and the very pavements of the streets glowing with fiery

redness; it was not till noon on the third day, nor till the fire had

threatened to cross over towards the residence of the Court itself at

Whitehall, that it was stopped, coming no farther westward than the

Temple, nor towards the north than the entrance of Smithfield. Thus,

you see, it spared the Borough, Wapping, Smithfield, and some other of

the quarters and suburbs of the city, inhabited by the poorest classes,

and consequently the abode of filth and wretchedness. The notion

therefore advanced by some that the improvements in the rebuilding of

the metropolis have been the cause of the disappearance of the plague

is evidently unfounded. Besides, I may mention to you, that Bristol,

the only town in England, except London, which had formerly much

foreign trade, though it has been purified by no fire, has nevertheless

remained equally free from that disease. On the other hand, dysentery

and intermittents, two diseases which we all look upon as arising from

filth and moisture, increased after the fire. Take my word for it, it

is quarantine alone, and not any increased cleanliness on the part of

the inhabitants, that has kept out the plague.”--Dr. Mead then returned

to his history of the College, and mentioned that after the fire, on

application being made to the Judges who were appointed to settle

the differences which unavoidably arose out of that great national

calamity, [Sidenote: 1668.] a new lease was obtained from the Dean and

Chapter of St. Paul’s--the College undertaking to rebuild the premises.

This scheme however was never carried into effect; the lease was

resigned, and on the ground where once stood our College, three fair

houses were erected, which are now the seats of the Residentiaries of

St. Paul’s. In this interval the meetings of the Fellows were generally

held at the house of the President; when shortly after a piece of

ground having been purchased in Warwick Lane, our present College was

begun to be built, in four years was completed, and [Sidenote: 1674.]

was opened, as it would appear, without any particular ceremony, on

the 25th of February, under the presidency of Sir George Ent, the

physician, of whose visit to the immortal Harvey, Dr. Freind gave us a

short time ago so interesting an account.

[Illustration: Old College, Warwick Lane.]

“In concluding this sketch of the various fortunes of our body, I beg

only to remind you, that according to the custom of the early ages in

England, Physicians united the clerical character with the medical, and

being thus learned in Physic and Divinity, were not unfrequently called

in to administer the comforts of both professions. But if, in more

modern times, the alliance of the two faculties has ceased to exist

in the _persons_ of their professors, it is still amusing to observe

the continuance of the affinity of _locality_, if I may so term it,

for you cannot cross from the house of Linacre, to the spot where our

present College stands, and thence to the site of our second building,

without being struck with the sanctity of the ground. On your right you

leave the magnificent structure of St. Paul’s, and traversing Creed

Lane, Ave Maria Lane, Paternoster Row, you finally reach Amen Corner.

All these places are within a stone’s throw of one another; whether

the spirit of innovation, and the change of fashion, may at any future

period overcome the _genius loci_, remains to be proved. I have often

heard it observed, that though it is convenient to some of us, who

live towards the east, yet upon the whole, it is a pity the College

was built so near Newgate Prison, and in so obscure a hole; a fault in

placing most of our public buildings and churches in the City, which

is to be attributed to the avarice of some few men, and to His Majesty

Charles the Second not over-ruling it when it was in his power, after

the dreadful conflagration.”

The library of Dr. Mead never witnessed a more brilliant assembly than

this; at least the conversation which I have endeavoured to relate made

a great impression upon me.

[Illustration: Interior of Mead’s Library; from an engraving in the

British Museum.]

I do not mean, as was said before, to dwell upon the details of the

private practice of Dr. Mead; for, to tell the truth, I have long

been (to use one of our new-fangled French words) rather _blasé_ on

the topic of medical cases. How, indeed, can it be otherwise with me,

who have seen five generations of physicians; and must, therefore,

have infinitely more experience than any doctor who ever existed? One

hundred and thirty years have elapsed since I first became connected

with physic; for I am almost coeval with the College in Warwick Lane,

having made my first appearance fifteen years only after the completion

of that building; and can only be said to have completely retired from

the bustle of practice within the last two or three years. With the

usual appearance of the symptoms of diseases, the ordinary remedies

prescribed, and the common topics of consolation and advice, I soon

became, even from the very commencement of my career, very familiar;

it was therefore only by some very extraordinary case indeed, or by

attending some very remarkable patient, that I felt much interested. Of

the latter description was the illness of that great and good man Sir

Isaac Newton. In 1726, early in the month of March, Mr. Conduitt called

upon my master, and carried him, together with Mr. Cheselden[40], to

Kensington, where Sir Isaac had shortly before taken a house for the

benefit of his health.

It was my lot often to be in company with the eminent surgeon whose

name I have now mentioned; for the public seemed universally to have

adopted the sentiment of the popular poet of the day:

“I’ll try what Mead and Cheselden advise.”

POPE.

Consequently, in most complicated cases of importance, requiring the

united skill and attendance of a physician and surgeon, these two

celebrated practitioners were called in to consultation.

On our first interview, it was pronounced that the illness of Sir

Isaac arose from stone in the bladder, and no hopes were given of

his recovery; and yet, to look upon the great philosopher, though

now in his eighty-fifth year, he had the bloom and colour of a young

man, had never worn spectacles, nor lost more than one tooth during

his whole life. Besides being blessed with a very happy and vigorous

constitution, he had been very temperate in his diet, though we did not

learn that he had ever observed any regimen. He was of middle stature,

and at this time plump in his person; had a very lively and piercing

eye, a comely and gracious aspect, and a fine head of hair, as white

as silver, without any baldness, and when his peruke was off, he had

truly a most venerable appearance. On inquiry we found, that for some

years before his present illness, he had suffered so much from the same

disorder, that he had put down his chariot, and had gone out always in

a chair; had left off dining abroad, or with much company at home.

He ate little flesh; lived chiefly upon broth, vegetables, and fruit,

of which latter he always partook very heartily. Notwithstanding his

present infirmities had been gradually increasing upon him, nothing

could induce him to absent himself entirely from town, and he had

continued to go occasionally to the Mint, although his nephew had

for the last year transacted the business there for him. It appeared

that on the last day of the preceding month he had gone to town, in

order to be present at a meeting of the Royal Society: on the next

day Mr. Conduitt told us that he had seen him, and thought he had

not observed him in better health for many years; that Sir Isaac was

sensible of it himself, for that he had told him, smiling, that he had

slept the Sunday before, from eleven at night to eight in the morning,

without waking; but that the great fatigue he had endured in going to

the Society, in making and receiving visits, had brought on his old

complaint violently upon him. He had returned to Kensington on the

Saturday following. This was the statement we received; and we found

him suffering great pain. But though the drops of sweat ran down from

his face with anguish, he never complained, or cried out, or showed the

least signs of peevishness or impatience. On the contrary, during the

short intervals between these violent fits of torture, he smiled, and

talked with my master with his usual cheerfulness. On Wednesday, the

fifteenth of March, he seemed a little better; and some faint hopes

were entertained of his recovery. On Saturday, the eighteenth, he read

the newspapers, and held a pretty long discourse with Dr. Mead, and had

all his senses perfect; but at six o’clock on that evening he became

insensible, and remained so during the whole of Sunday; and died on

Monday, the twentieth, between one and two o’clock in the morning.

To find a successor worthy of filling the chair of science, which Sir

Isaac Newton had occupied for twenty-four years, was impossible; nor

is it at any time an easy matter to select one able to perform all the

duties of that distinguished station, and to fulfil the expectations

and satisfy the claims of the public. Even to draw the _beau ideal_ of

such a one would be difficult. Perhaps he should be a man of literary

and scientific attainments, and who, though not a labourer in the field

of science himself, is so well acquainted with the history and progress

of natural knowledge, as to be capable of judging of the value and

importance of the contributions of others. Possessed of discrimination

and tact in the selection of a council, which would be candid enough to

aid him in the difficult task of appreciating the merit of others, he

should himself be a man of fortune and character sufficient to be above

the temptation of making his high office subservient to the purposes

of private advancement, or the gratification of selfish ambition. To

these solid advantages, he should certainly add such an acquaintance

with at least one foreign language, as to be able in a becoming manner

to do the honours of science to the distinguished strangers who, in

their visits to this country, are likely to be recommended to his care.

To find an individual uniting in his own person all these qualities

is difficult, perhaps impossible; but it may be said, without fear of

contradiction, that the study of medicine is likely to have bestowed a

greater number of these attainments, than the discipline to which the

mind is subject in the pursuit of any other profession. Among the very

founders of the Royal Society, we find the names of many distinguished

Physicians, as Ent, Glisson, Merret, Willis, Croone, Needham, Whistler;

but the honour was reserved for Sir Hans Sloane to be the first Medical

President. He had been chosen its Secretary, in 1693, when he revived

the publication of the Transactions, which had been for some years

suspended: the first act of his Presidency was to make a present of 100

guineas to the Society, and of a bust of their founder, Charles II. He

continued in that office fourteen years, and did not resign the chair

till the age of eighty: how fit he was to preside over the interests of

science must appear from what has already been said of him: and if I

might be allowed to anticipate some fifty years, and allude to another

Physician who was raised to the same dignity, there will be no reason

to blush for the reputation of physic.

[Illustration: Statue of Sir Hans Sloane, by Rysbrach, in the

Apothecaries’ Garden, Chelsea.]

Sir John Pringle was elected President of the Royal Society in 1772;

in which office he continued only six years; but if the volumes of

Transactions, published during that time, be examined, they will be

found to contain many memorable papers: among others, Dr. Maskelyne’s

experiments at Schehallien, with Dr. Hutton’s deductions from them--The

experiments of Sir G. Shuckburgh Evelyn and of General Roy to

establish correct formulas for measuring heights by the barometer--The

report of the Committee to determine the proper method of graduating

thermometers--Experiments to ascertain the freezing point of mercury.

Pringle was the first President who made a set speech on the delivery

of the Copley Medals, and his discourses, which were made on rather

celebrated occasions, embrace many topics of interest, and show his

acquaintance with the history of philosophy. They were six in number,

the four first of which were,

To Priestley, for his Paper on different kinds of Air.

To Walsh, for his Experiments on Electricity.

To Maskelyne, for his Observations on Gravitation.

To Captain Cook, for his Paper on the Prevention of Scurvy amongst his

Crew, during his voyage round the world.

But I beg pardon for this digression, and must return to my master.

On the accession of George the Second, Dr. Mead was made one of the

royal physicians, and was for many years engaged in the constant

hurry of an extensive and successful practice. By his singular

humanity and goodness of heart he conquered even envy itself; and it

was acknowledged by all who knew him, that few princes have shown

themselves equally generous and liberal in promoting science, and

encouraging learned men. He threw open his gallery in the morning for

the benefit of students in painting and sculpture; and was in the

habit of even lending the best of his pictures to artists to copy. If

any literary work was going on, he contributed all in his power to

its perfection. For instance, he accommodated the learned Dr. Zachary

Grey with the loan of his original picture of Butler, the author of

Hudibras, (by Mr. Soest, a famous Dutch painter), for the use of

the engraver. He constantly kept in his pay a number of artists and

scholars, and scarcely a curious undertaking appeared during the

period of his success, that did not find a patron in Mead.

Knowing that Mr. Carte (who was accused of high treason, and for whose

apprehension a thousand pounds had been offered) had fled to Paris,

resided there under the borrowed name of Phillips, and was employed in

collecting materials for an English translation of Thuanus, my master

perceived that his plan might be enlarged; and satisfying Mr. Carte for

the pains he had already taken (_pretio haud exiguo_, as our librarian

Mr. Hocker used to say), he employed Mr. Buckley to complete the work.

In the first French edition, passages offensive to the nobility of that

nation had been omitted; but these were now restored, and a splendid

and complete edition printed at Mead’s expense.

He was also one of the first subscribers to the Foundling Hospital;

that noble institution, which will for ever endear the name of Captain

Coram to this country. Guy, the wealthy citizen, was also persuaded by

my master to lay out his immense fortune in building that hospital in

the Borough which bears his name.

With respect to science, no discovery was made in which he did not

take a lively interest. In the year 1746, the experiments tending to

illustrate the nature and properties of electricity were made by Mr.

afterwards Sir William Watson; and he was present on a remarkable

occasion, to witness the effects of the Leyden phial, then newly

invented. It was in the house of the ingenious philosopher whose name

has just been mentioned, in Aldersgate Street; and here, amongst a

large concourse of people, I saw the Duke of Cumberland, recently

returned from Scotland, take the shock with the point of the sword with

which he had fought the battle of Culloden.

Two or three years after this I witnessed the famous experiments made

on the Thames and at Shooter’s-hill, in the presence of the President

and several of the Fellows of the Royal Society; in one of which the

electrical circuit was made to extend four miles, and the result of

the experiment was, that the velocity of electricity seemed to be

instantaneous.

The hospitality of Mead was unbounded; and consequently his

housekeeping expenses were very great: for, not content with the

reception of his own friends and acquaintances, he kept also a very

handsome second table, to which persons of inferior quality were

invited. The consequence of this was, that notwithstanding the

considerable gains derived from his profession (for several years he

made between £5000 and £6000, and during one year he received £7000),

he did not die so rich as might have been expected. The total amount

left at his death, including the receipts of the sale of his library,

pictures, statues, &c. (which were between £15,000 and £16,000) was

about £50,000: but this sum was materially diminished by the payment of

his debts.

With respect to his manner of living, when not engaged at home, he

generally spent his evenings at Batson’s Coffee-House; and in the

forenoons, apothecaries used to come to him, at Tom’s, near Covent

Garden, with written or verbal reports of cases, for which he

prescribed without seeing the patient, and took half-guinea fees.

The last work he published, which was in 1751, was entitled Medical

Precepts and Cautions; in which, with great candour and simplicity, he

enumerated all the discoveries that long practice and experience had

opened to him concerning diseases and their cures; and concluded with

many salutary directions for preserving the body and mind perfect and

entire to a good old age. This he attained himself; and preserved till

within three years of his death his intellectual powers in a state

of perfection. Then he became very corpulent, and his faculties were

visibly impaired. But his kindness of heart never deserted him. I shall

never forget a piece of insolence on the part of one of his servants,

who doubtless presumed on his master’s known good nature and forgiving

disposition. Dr. Watson was sitting with Mead in his library, when the

latter wishing to read something, looked about for his spectacles, for

his eyesight had become very bad; and not readily finding them, asked

his servant for them: upon which the man gave them to him with great

rudeness, saying at the time, “You are always losing your things.” How

I longed to have knocked the fellow down for his brutality!

Dr. Mead died on the 16th of February, 1754, in his eighty-first year,

and was buried in the Temple Church.

After his death, it was said of him, that of all physicians who had

ever flourished, he gained the most, spent the most, and enjoyed the

highest fame during his lifetime, not only in his own but in foreign

countries.

[Illustration]

ASKEW.