ARCHAEOLOGY--PRACTICE
His versatility--The Lycium of the Muses--The Catstane--Was the
Roman Army provided with medical officers?--Weems--His lack of
business method--Fees and no fees--Generosity often imposed
upon--His unusual method of conducting private practice--The
ten-pound note--Simpson and the hotel proprietors.
Professor Simpson's versatility was remarkable. He turned from one
subject to another and displayed a mastery over each; it was not
merely the knowledge of principles which astonished but the intimate
familiarity with details. He was able to discuss almost any subject in
literature, science, politics, or theology with its leading exponent
on equal terms. He had the power of patient listening as well as the
gift of speech; more than that he had the ability to charm speech from
others, of making each man reveal his inmost thoughts, betray his most
cherished theories, or narrate his most stirring experiences; the most
reticent man would not realise until he had left Simpson's presence,
that in a brief interview, perhaps the first, he had told his greatest
adventures, or laid bare his wildest aspirations before this student
of mankind who was summarising his life and character as he spoke.
Simpson built up his knowledge not so much from books as by the
exercise of his highly developed faculty of observation aided by his
memory. He enjoyed the study of his fellowmen and extracted all that
was worth knowing from those with whom he came into contact. He never
undertook work without a definite object in view, and rarely abandoned
his task before that object was accomplished. Quite small researches
would lead to considerable and unexpected labour. He preserved his
scientific method, his desire to appeal only to the evidence of
facts--not to other men's fancies--through his archaeological work as
well as in more professional lines of study. He laboured long and
carefully over such an object as the study of old skulls dug up in
antiquarian excursions; setting before himself the object of finding
out by the condition and wear of the teeth what kind of food had been
consumed by the owners, probably primeval inhabitants of some
district. He impressed his methods upon those who worked for him or
with him. We find him writing to his nephew, who was about to visit
Egypt, telling him when there to gather information as to the
suitability of the country for invalids, and directing him how to
employ his leisure in furthering this object. He was to study German
on the voyage thither, and to take with him as models Clarke's book on
Climate and Mitchell's on Algiers, and any French or German books on
the subject he might hear of. He would require to collect (1) The
average daily temperature; (2) The hygrometric and barometric states
daily; (3) The temperature of the Nile; (4) The temperature of any
mineral springs; (5) The general character of the geology; (6) The
general character of the botany of the country. He asked him to
inquire specially as to the effect of the climate on consumption, and
pointed out that Pliny described Egypt seventeen centuries ago as the
best climate for phthisical patients. For amusement he was to take
some good general book on Egypt and Egyptian hieroglyphics. The
serious study of a succession of inquirers was to be the young man's
holiday amusement!
Simpson's most notable contributions to archaeology were made when his
time was most occupied professionally. The researches on Leprosy were
first enlarged and improved. In 1852, when in the British Museum, his
eye was attracted by a small leaden vase bearing a Greek inscription
signifying the _Lycium of the Muses_. By a painstaking inquiry he
established that this lycium was the _Lykion indikon_ of Dioscorides,
drug used by ancient Greeks as an application to the eyes in various
kinds of ophthalmia. It was obtained from India, and is still used for
these purposes in that country. He discovered that there were three
other examples of this ancient receptable for the valued eye-medicine
in modern museums.
He had correspondents in different parts of Scotland engaged in making
researches into antiquities, which he encouraged and directed. Among
such were inquiries into the whereabouts of a church said to possess
holy earth brought from Rome; and a hunt for ancient cupping-vessels.
The work on the Catstane of Kirkliston was elaborate, and a perfect
example of his method. Probably this stone, a massive unhewn block of
greenstone-trap, had been a familiar object to him in his youth, for
it lay alone in a field close to the Linlithgow road. In his monograph
he endeavoured to show by close reasoning, with profuse references to
forgotten authorities and ancient history, that the stone was the tomb
of one Vetta, the grandfather of Hengist and Horsa. His argument ran
as follows: The surname Vetta, which figured on the inscription carved
upon the stone, was the name of the grandfather of Hengist and Horsa,
as given by the oldest genealogists, who described him as the son of
Victa. The inscription ran thus: VETTA F(ilius) VICTI. Vetta was an
uncommon Saxon name, and no other Vetta, son of Victa, was known in
history. Two generations before Hengist and Horsa arrived in England a
Saxon host was leagued with the Picts, Scots, and Attacots in fighting
a Roman army, and these Saxons were probably commanded by an ancestor
of Hengist and Horsa. The battlefield was situated between the two
Roman walls, and consequently included the tract where the stone is
now placed. The palaeographic characters of the inscription indicated
that it was carved about the end of the fourth century. Latin (with a
very few exceptions in Greek) was the only language known to have been
used at that time by Romanised Britons and foreign conquerors for the
purpose of inscriptions. The occasional erection of monuments to Saxon
leaders is proved by the fact mentioned by Bede that in his time, the
eighth century, there stood in Kent a monument commemorating the death
of Horsa. In 1659 a writer had described this tomb of Horsa as having
been destroyed by "storms and tempests under the conduct of time."
In 1861 Simpson was president of the Society of Antiquaries of
Scotland, and delivered an address on the past and present work of
archaeology which greatly stimulated antiquarian study in his country.
Amongst the honours which his antiquarian achievements brought upon
him was that of being appointed Professor of Antiquities to the Royal
Academy of Scotland; he was also elected a member of the Archaeological
Societies of Athens, Nassau, and Copenhagen.
He made researches into the subjects of lake dwellings, primeval
pottery, and burial urns. One of his most valuable writings was upon
the subject, "Was the Roman Army provided with Medical Officers?" He
answered the question in the affirmative after a laborious hunt
amongst votive and mortuary tablets; no Roman historians had left
clear indications of the existence of any army medical department. He
found that several tablets were preserved bearing inscriptions
referring to army surgeons, which suggested that although they were
all known as _medicus_ there were degrees of rank amongst them,
notably the _medicus legionis_ and the _medicus cohortis_. There is a
well-preserved tablet in the Newcastle Museum found in that
neighbourhood, commemorating a surgeon of the first Tungrian cohort,
and one in Dresden, referring to a _medicus duplicatorius_, a term
which indicates that the surgeon had been fortunate enough by his
attainments to merit, and, we hope, receive double fees for his
services.
All his antiquarian study was looked upon by Simpson himself as no
more than a relaxation. Fatigued by days and nights of anxious
consecutive professional work, he would suddenly dash off for a day
into some part of the country where he knew there was a likely "find,"
leaving patients and students to the care of his assistants. Here he
would press into service and infect with his spirit all sorts of local
worthies from the squire or laird down to the labourer, who woke up at
his stimulation to find that what had been of no concern to them and
their fathers before them--perhaps objects of vituperation or
superstitious dread--were objects of keen delight and interest, and
actually valuable to this astonishing man. Once on a professional
visit to Fifeshire he quite casually discovered some remarkable though
rough carvings in caves, representing various animals and curious
emblems, and he was able to show that they presented features hitherto
unnoticed. Fifeshire was famous for its underground dwellings, or, as
they are locally called, "weems"--a term which gave origin to the
title of the Earldom of Wemyss. After such an excursion he would
return to Queen Street full of boyish spirits, eager to narrate his
discoveries to interested friends, and refreshed ready to resume the
daily round of work. Archaeology was his hobby--the hobby on which he
rode away for refreshment and relief from the monotony of his life's
work; not only did the hobby constantly restore his flagging energies,
but as it is given to few men to do, he put new life into his hobby
whenever he bestrode it.
In the conduct of his practice he was somewhat negligent. He was one
of the old school in these matters; he trusted his head rather than
paper, and his head had had such a careful self-imposed training since
childhood that it was a good servant. But where the brain has such
enormous duties to perform, those which appear to it unimportant must
of necessity be comparatively neglected.
Had he been more careful of pounds, shillings, and pence, he would
have been more attentive to the details of practice. To Simpson,
provided he had sufficient money for all his wants--and his wants
were wide, for they included those of many others--pecuniary and
business matters were of secondary consideration. In his student days
he had lived carefully, accounting, as has been seen, for every
trivial expenditure to those to whom he was indebted. But now he was
free from the harassing necessity of exercising rigid economy, he cast
aside the drudgery of business methods and disdained commercial
considerations. He certainly received some very large fees, but the
curious mixture of human beings who crowded his waiting-rooms were
treated all alike whether they paid princely fees or no fee at all;
lots were drawn daily for precedence, and they entered his presence
according as they drew. His valet seems to have attained considerable
skill in estimating the probable remunerative value of a roomful of
waiting patients, and would grumble at night if on emptying the
professor's pockets, as was his duty, the result fell short of his
calculated anticipations. The man did not approve of the master's
habit of giving gratuitous service. There were many who were never
asked for a fee, and many others whose proffered guineas were refused.
Simpson would not ask for money from those to whom he thought it was a
struggle to pay him; the magnitude of his profit-yielding practice
rendered this form of charity possible for him; from the really poor
he always refused remuneration. His house was filled with all sorts
of presents from patients, grateful for benefit conferred, grateful
for generosity and consideration. He was also a free giver, and
besides supporting orthodox charities made many gifts of goodly sums
to persons who appeared to him to be in want, or who succeeded in
impressing on him their need for help. He was imposed upon often
enough; not seldom by pseudo-scientists full of some great discovery
which a little more capital might enable them to complete. Once he
corresponded with an enthusiast of this description who confessed that
he had been breakfasting on a waistcoat, dining on a shirt, and
supping on a pair of tough old leather boots, with the object of
finding a solid substance, which combined with lead or tin would form
gold--nothing more or less than the time-honoured philosopher's stone!
To such a man Simpson gave freely not only once.
To young students entering upon professional life with no other
capital than their newly acquired qualifications to practice, he was
ever generous. The Scots Universities sent forth many such youths,
sturdy and independent, and with feelings that would be easily wounded
by any attempt to patronise. But his gentleness, and the sympathy born
of his own early experiences and shining in his eyes, made help from
him something to be proud of.
It could never be urged against Simpson that he was avaricious. Just
as when honours were showered upon him he accepted them with less
thought of the personal honour than of the appreciation of his
friends and the public, and rejoiced that they were pleased; so he
rejoiced in the acquisition of ample means chiefly because of the
pleasure he might derive therefrom by helping others.
His method of seeing patients was boldly haphazard; we learn with
astonishment that he kept no list of his visits to be made, and
started a day's round with only his prodigious memory to guide him as
to where he should go. Such a method must have had the result that
only cases of interest or urgency were seen. No doubt the able staff
of assistants attended to the others, but these comprised not only
sufferers from trivial complaints but those afflicted with imaginary
ills who had come to see Simpson, not his assistant. Possibly they had
already suffered many things of many physicians and were none the
better. Such persons blamed Simpson with some reason. In the case of
neurotic persons only was his method not reprehensible; continued
attendance might have undone the benefit of the one application, if we
may so term it, of his strong personality, which sometimes was all
that was required, so superstitious was the reverence for his powers.
A precise system of registration of engagements and visits ought
certainly to have been adopted. We can sympathise with those who felt
aggrieved that they could not obtain more attention from the great
man, but it must be remembered that by his own method he saw a great
number of difficult and dangerous cases, and was able to originate out
of his wide and unprecedented experience, modes of treatment which are
to-day valued highly and successfully made use of by his professional
successors. He never wittingly left a fellow-creature's life in
danger, but would hasten at all hours to cases of real urgency.
As is usual where large numbers are striving after the same object
some were highly careless in their communications with him. Fees were
sent to him with a request for a receipt, but no address was given.
Engagements were asked for by persons who neglected to say at what
hotel they were staying; and others worried him for letters on quite
trivial subjects. On one occasion, it is authentically related, a
ten-pound note was forwarded to him by a man who might more reasonably
have paid one hundred pounds. The note was somewhat carelessly not
acknowledged, and the sender kept writing letters demanding an answer
in increasing severity of tone. But he was left to rage in vain. A few
nights later Simpson's sleep was disturbed by a rattling window; in
the dark he rose and groped for a piece of paper wherewith to stuff
the chink and stop the irritating noise. His only comment next morning
when his wife, having removed the paper and discovered its nature came
to him with it, was, "Oh! it's _that_ ten pounds!"
There was a great want of method in all his arrangements, and Dr. Duns
confesses to having had considerable difficulty in arranging
Simpson's letters and papers, so carelessly were they kept.
The leading hotels in the city benefited by Simpson's reputation.
Patients and pilgrims filled their rooms long before tourists began to
crowd Scotland as they do to-day. When Simpson was elected to the
Chair of Midwifery loud complaints were uttered by the hotel
proprietors. His predecessor, Professor Hamilton, had been a man of
such wide reputation that they derived much profit from the patients
sent in from the surrounding country to be attended by him. How could
a young man like Simpson equal this? And yet when he died there was
more than one hotel proprietor who could attribute no small measure of
his own success to the patients and visitors who crowded not only from
the country districts of Scotland but from the most remote parts of
the British Empire, as well as from the great cities of Europe and
America, to gain help or speech from or perhaps only to see this same
Simpson. And his fame had reached the high point it ever after
maintained when he was but a young man--before he was forty years of
age. It was estimated that no less than eighty thousand pounds per
annum was lost to the hotel, lodging, and boarding-house keepers of
Edinburgh when he died.