One can scarcely credit that at any period there could have existed men of
science and genius who believed that there were supernatural means of
curing disease, did we not even to the present day find imbeciles who
verily dread the malpractices of the devil and his vicarious agents.
Ancient writers divided their cures into _lawful_ and _unlawful_. The
former were obtained from divine aid; the latter from sorcerers, witches,
magicians, wizards, and cunning men, who treated all maladies by spells,
cabalistic words, charms, characters, images, amulets, ligatures,
philters, incantations, &c.; by which means, according to Cardan,
Artesius, Picatrix, and sundry wise men, the aforesaid sorcerers and
witches could prevent fire from burning, find out thieves and stolen
goods, show absent faces in a glass, make serpents lie still, stanch
blood, _salve_ gout, biting of mad dogs, toothache, _et omnia mundi
mala_. "Many doubt," says Nicholas Taurellus, "whether the devil can cure
such diseases he hath not made, and some flatly deny it; however, common
experience confirms, to our astonishment, that magicians can work such
feats, and that the devil, without impediment, can penetrate through all
the parts of our body, and cure such maladies by means to us unknown."
Some of these means were rather singular; for St. Austin mentions as one
of these processes, "_Agentes cum patientibus conjungunt, colligere semina
rerum eaque materiae applicare_;" and learned divines, moreover inform us,
that to resist exorcisms these witches and magicians had St. Catherine's
wheel imprinted on the roof of their mouths, or on some other part.
Taurellus asserts, that to doubt it is to run into a sceptical extreme of
incredulity. Godelman affirms that Satan is an excellent physician;
Langius maintains that Jupiter Menecrates was a magician; and Marcellus
Donatus pays the same compliment to Solomon, who, he says, "cured all the
diseases of the mind by spells, charms, and drove away devils, and that
Eleazar did the same before Vespasian." Galen, in his book "_de
Medicamentis facile purandis_," observes after a preparation, "_haec enim
suffita, daemonus abigunt_."
This fact being clearly ascertained, the next question was whether it was
lawful in a desperate case to crave the help of the evil one on the
principle
Flectere si nequeunt Superos, Acheronta movebunt.
Paracelsus rather impiously argues that we might, as it matters not, he
says, "whether it be God or the devil, angels or unclean spirits,
(_immundi spiritus_,) that cure him, so that he be eased. If a man fall in
a ditch, what matter is it whether a friend or an enemy help him out? If I
be troubled with such a malady, what care I whether the devil himself, or
any of his ministers, by God's permission, redeem me?"--and he therefore
concludes, that diseases brought on by _malefices_ can only be cured by
_incantations_. However, this doctrine was denounced as abominable by
Remigius, Bodinus, Godelmannus, Erastus, and various divines and
schoolmen; and Delrio plainly declares, "_mori praestat quam superstitiose
canari_." Therefore pontificial writers and sages recommend adjuration and
exorcism by "fire, suffumigations, lights, cutting the air with swords
(_gladiorum ictus_), sacred herbs, odours," &c., though some hungry devils
can only be cast out by fasting.
Witches and impostors, says Lord Bacon, have always held a competition
with physicians. Galen complains of this superstition, and observes that
patients placed more confidence in the oracles of Esculapius and their own
idle dreams than in the prescriptions of doctors. The introduction of
precious stones into medical practice owed its origin to a superstitious
belief that, from their beauty, splendour, and high value, they were the
natural receptacles for _good_ spirits. Mystery, in the dark ages, and,
alas! even now, increases the confidence in remedial means; reveal their
true nature, the charm is dissolved: "_Minus credunt quae ad suam salutem
pertinent si intelligunt_," said Pliny. One cannot but wonder when we
behold men pre-eminent in deep learning and acute observation becoming
converts to such superstitious practices. Lord Bacon believed in spells
and amulets; and Sir Theodore Mayence, who was physician to three English
sovereigns, and supposed to have been Shakspeare's Dr. Caius, believed in
supernatural agency, and frequently prescribed the most disgusting and
absurd medicines, such as the heart of a mule ripped up alive, a portion
of the lungs of a man who had died a violent death, or the hand of a thief
who had been gibbeted on some particular day. Nauseous medicines have ever
been deemed the most efficacious, on the reasoning that as every thing
medicinal is nauseous, every thing that is nauseous must be medicinal. The
ancients firmly believed that blood can be stanched by charms; the
bleeding of Ulysses was stopped by this means; and Cato the Censor has
given us an incantation for setting dislocated bones. To this day charms
are supposed to arrest the flow of blood:
Tom Pots was but a serving-man,
But yet he was a doctor good,
He bound his kerchief on the wound,
And with some kind words he stanch'd the blood.