CHAPTER III

PHYSICIANS WHO ATTAINED DISTINCTION IN SOME OF THE DEPARTMENTS OF

MEDICINE DURING THE FIRST HALF OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY

In looking over the list of medical men who attained distinction during

the first half of the eighteenth century, one can scarcely fail to note

two important facts, viz., that they hailed from widely separated

localities in Western Europe,—for example, from England, Holland,

Northern Germany, France, Austria, Switzerland and Italy,—and also that

the advances which they effected in medical knowledge were not confined

to one or two departments of this science but included very nearly all

the fundamental branches. Hence it could not rightly be claimed by a

citizen of any one of these countries that his own nation was entitled

to be considered the leader in this advance. It would be a waste of

time, and would require more space than can be spared for such a

purpose, to furnish here even an incomplete list of the anatomists,

biologists, chemists, pharmacologists, diagnosticians, therapeutists and

surgeons who during the period named took a very active part in the

work. Probably Boerhaave of the University of Leyden, Holland, of whose

career I have given some account in the preceding volume, deserves to be

reckoned one of the first physicians who exerted a strong stimulating

influence upon the movement as a whole. From a superficial examination

of his writings the modern physician finds it difficult to understand

why Boerhaave attained so great a degree of popularity as he

indisputably did,—a popularity, too, which was of the best sort; for

during the period of his professorship both students and practicing

physicians flocked to Leyden from all parts of Europe, and they never

tired of speaking about the great benefit which they derived from

Boerhaave’s teaching. Many of them attributed this popularity more

especially to his practice—which at that time was a novelty—of laying

great stress upon bedside teaching and upon the importance of studying

disease from direct observation of its manifestations in the living

subject. Then, in addition, there is evidence that, as a teacher,

Boerhaave undoubtedly possessed the gift of exerting a personal charm

upon his auditors.[3]

Not a few of those who were privileged to receive instruction from this

celebrated physician became themselves distinguished afterward as

teachers or authors, and thus Boerhaave’s method of teaching was

perpetuated. Among the physicians to whom reference has just been made

were such men as Albrecht von Haller, of Berne, Switzerland, Van

Swieten, of Vienna, and Hoffmann, of Halle, Prussian Saxony, many of

whom are well known to-day in a general way to students of the history

of medicine, but who, nevertheless, in at least a few instances, are

worthy of having their careers described in further detail. In the

following pages I propose to supply biographical sketches of these men

and to show in what respects they exerted a beneficial influence upon

the great body of their confrères, and also to what extent they made

contributions to the science of medicine in its various branches.

It will undoubtedly surprise some of my readers, as it did me, to learn

that during the comparatively barren period of the eighteenth century,

to which brief reference has been made on a previous page, there were in

Northern and Central Germany several anatomists and biologists who did

creditable work as original investigators in these departments of

medicine. Of this small number, however, I shall mention here only

one—Reil. While he spent the greater part of his life in Germany, he was

in reality a native of Holland.

* * * * *

JOHANN CHRISTIAN REIL was born at Rhaude, East Friesland, in 1759. His

father, who was the pastor of the village church, gave his son an

excellent preliminary training, which enabled him, at the age of ten, to

enter the high school (_Gymnasium_) in the neighboring town of Norden.

On attaining his twentieth year, Johann entered the University of

Goettingen, but he remained there only a short time, as he had become

convinced that the Halle University offered greater facilities for those

who intended, as did Reil, to follow a medical career. Three years

later, armed with the degree of Doctor of Medicine, he began the

practice of his profession at Norden. In the course of five years he

managed to build up such a reputation as a successful practitioner that

the University of Halle invited him to occupy the position of Professor

Extraordinary of Clinical Medicine. Then, after the lapse of only a

short year from the time of his acceptance of this invitation, he was

promoted to the full professorship. Almost simultaneously he was

appointed (1789) to the position of City Physician of Halle. It was

probably while serving in the latter capacity that he began to reveal to

the Government that he was not only an excellent physician but also

possessed, at the same time, unusual executive ability.

Between the years 1789 and 1806, at which latter date the German army

met with a disastrous defeat at the hands of the French (battle of

Jena), the almost constant warfare brought all official university work

to a stop. But Reil was not idle during this long period, for it was at

this time that he devoted himself chiefly to laboratory research work

with reference to the anatomy and physiology of the brain and nerves.

The products of this work are recorded in the Archives of Physiology

which Reil published in 1796 in association with Autenrieth, and they

are pronounced by Sudhoff to be masterly. One of the cerebral structures

which Reil was the first to describe is that known to all anatomists as

“the island of Reil.”

Another important series of studies which were made by Reil were

published by him under the title: “On the Diagnosis and Treatment of

Fevers” (Halle and Berlin, 1799–1816; 3d edition, 1820–1828).

Finally, mention should be made of a memoir on “Vital Force” which Reil

published in the first volume of his Archives, in July, 1795; an essay

which—according to Sudhoff—should be read with very close attention, for

it, more than all his other published writings, has carried Reil’s name

(and will continue so to carry it in the future) triumphantly through

the history of the science of biology. The author states his final

conclusion as to the nature of vital force in the following words:

“Every part of an organism accomplishes its work through its own

inherent power, and the latter is a characteristic phenomenon that is

dependent upon the manner in which the material of which it is composed

is mixed and also upon the form that it takes.” Dezeimeris gives a

slightly different rendering of this passage, viz., “It is absurd to

search for the source of life (vital force) elsewhere than in the

tissues themselves, and in them the vital phenomena vary partly

according to the manner in which their elements are mixed and partly

according to the form in which they are arranged.” Farther on in this

volume, as I shall show, Claude Bernard, the distinguished French

biologist, furnishes a third definition of “vital force.”

When the terrible fighting that occurred at the battle of Leipzig in

1813 necessitated the rapid construction and organization of hospitals

large enough to accommodate the many thousands of sick and wounded[4]

that had accumulated after this battle, the King of Prussia promptly

assigned to Reil the entire management of this important business; and

the result proved that he had entrusted this work to the right man.

Reil’s death from typhus fever occurred at Halle on November 12, 1813.

Sudhoff thus sums up the most striking traits of this distinguished

physician’s character: “He was never satisfied with half-way measures,

and bold schemes and great undertakings occupied his thoughts at all

times. At the bedside he gave himself up unreservedly to the interests

of the patient.”

* * * * *

SAMUEL HAHNEMANN was born at Meissen, Saxony, in 1755. Although his

parents were poor he managed to obtain a good education, not only in the

fundamentals usually taught at the schools, but also in the knowledge of

the various languages, such as Latin, Hebrew, Arabic, Spanish, English,

French and Italian. In his medical training he advanced so rapidly that

already at the comparatively early age of thirty-five he was recognized

as one of the leading physicians of Germany. Even Hufeland, who at this

period (about 1790) was the highest medical authority in the nation,

accorded him full confidence both as a man and as a chemist; and yet at

the same time there is no evidence to show that he frankly adopted his

teachings with regard to the new doctrine of homoeopathy.

Hahnemann’s first experiments in relation to the action of drugs—says

Wheeler, the most recent translator of the “Organon”—were made upon

cinchona bark, which at that period was universally admitted to possess

remarkable power in relieving and curing “ague,” as the usual form of

malarial disease was then termed. “Hahnemann’s experiment”—he goes on to

say—“consisted in taking a large dose of cinchona bark while he was in

good health and noting its effects upon his healthy body. To his

surprise he found reproduced upon himself all the chief phenomena (and

even many of the minor symptoms) of a paroxysm of ague. When the attack

passed off, a second dose produced a second paroxysm, and Hahnemann was

presently face to face with the fact that this drug, which so often

cured ague, was capable of reproducing in his own healthy body the

phenomena of ague. Like, in fact, cured like.... As soon as the cinchona

experiment suggested to Hahnemann the possibility that the principle of

like to like (_similia similibus_) might prove a general law of healing,

he began a systematic study of the records of medicine in the search for

instances.... Over and over again he found that a drug prescribed

empirically had proved itself capable of curing conditions similar to

those which it could produce. The records of medicine, in fact, gave

plenty of encouragement to his now dawning belief that _similia

similibus_ is a genuine Law of Cure.”

It is at this point, as it seems to me, that Hahnemann displays the

first and most important defect in his reasoning machinery. He allowed

what seemed to him to be a most important and highly beneficent

therapeutic truth immediately to take possession of his whole

being,—indeed, to take such complete possession that, from this moment

forward, throughout the remainder of his life, he was utterly unable to

weigh with a calm and unprejudiced mind the various facts and

considerations which ultimately relegated homoeopathy to its proper

place in the medico-historical museum, alongside those hoary relics of

methodism, incantations, the weaving of charms, Stahlism, Brunonianism,

etc. In short, he lacked those immensely important mental

characteristics which enabled Harvey to discover the more important

facts relating to the circulation of the blood, and which made it

possible for Jenner to place in the hands of his fellow men an effective

weapon of defense against the deadly ravages of small-pox. If asked to

say what are these characteristics, I would reply: A state of mind so

open and so unprejudiced that it can weigh with absolute fairness all

the evidence laid before it, and an imagination so clever and so fertile

in resources that it is able to invent the means of reproducing at will

all those phenomena which it is desirable to study more closely. These,

I believe, are the characteristics which Hahnemann lacked and which are

absolutely necessary for the creation of a permanently useful creed and

principles of therapeutics.

In Hahnemann’s “Organon,” he provides quite a long series of aphorisms

in which the new doctrine is somewhat fully developed. I have

transcribed, below, a few of these in order that my readers may be able

to learn at first hand just what their author had in mind when he wrote

them.[5]

APHORISM 5.—It may be granted that every disease must depend

upon an alteration in the inner working of the human organism.

This disease can only be mentally conceived through its outward

signs and all that these signs reveal; in no way whatever can

the disease itself be recognized.

APHORISM 6.—... A thing or a condition demands a first proximate

cause only in order to come into existence; where the thing or

condition actually exists it requires no further originating, no

first and proximate cause, for its continued existence. Thus a

disease, once established, endures independently of its

proximate, exciting, primal cause: endures without further need

of its cause: endures even if its cause no longer exists. How,

then, can the removal of the cause be held to be the principal

condition of the cure of the disease?

APHORISM 8.—The unprejudiced observer ... is unable, however

acute he may be, to take note of anything, in any single case of

disease, except the changes in the condition of the body and

soul which are perceptible by the senses, the so-called disease

phenomena, symptoms in fact; in other words, he can note only

such fallings away from a former state of health as are

recognizable by the patient himself, the friends in attendance,

and the physician. All these perceptible signs make up together

the picture of the disease.

APHORISM 9.—... And thus this symptom-complex ... is the only

means whereby it is possible to discover a remedy for it (the

disease), the only means which can indicate the most appropriate

agent of cure.

APHORISM 13.—Now since, when cure is effected through the

removal of the whole range of the perceptible signs and

symptoms, the inward change which caused the symptoms is also

removed (that is, the totality of the disease), it follows that

the physician has only to clear away the entire symptom-complex

in order also to get rid of the inward alteration—in other

words, to remove the whole disease, the disease itself, a feat

which must always be the only aim of the rational healer; for

the essence of the art of medicine consists in compassing the

restoration of health, not in searching for the change in the

inward and hidden things; a quest which can tend to nothing but

fruitless speculation.

And then follows, in the form of an “Author’s Note,” the subjoined

commentary by Hahnemann:—

It is only through a misuse of the desire to reach the eternal,

sown in the spirit of man for nobler purposes, that these

impudent attempts have been made upon the realm of the

impossible, those speculative broodings over the essential

nature of the medicinal powers of drugs, over vitality, over the

invisible working of the organism in health and over the changes

of this hidden inner working which constitute disease—in other

words, over the inner nature and essence of illness.... When the

physician maintains that research into such things is necessary,

then he shows a misconception of the capacities of men and a

misunderstanding of the requisites for the work of healing.

... If only it had served the practice of medicine in the

slightest degree,—if all this subtile investigation had revealed

the true remedy for the least of diseases, it might yet pass for

desirable!

APHORISM 31.—The great homeopathic law of cure rests on this law

of man’s nature, revealed by experience, that diseases are only

destroyed and cured by similar diseases. The homeopathic law may

be thus formulated: that a disease can only be destroyed and

cured by a remedy which has the tendency to produce a similar

disease, for the effects of drugs are in themselves no other

than artificial diseases.

The preceding more or less disconnected portions of the text of

Hahnemann’s great work—“Organon of the Rational Art of Healing”—are

quoted here, not with the idea that they will convey to the reader a

very clear idea of the doctrine of homoeopathy and of the way in which

it is to be applied in the practice of medicine, but rather for the

purpose of showing the extraordinary manner in which Hahnemann utilized

his reasoning powers in his efforts to create a new pathology and a new

system of therapeutics that would harmonize with this new doctrine.

A further inquiry into the manner in which the disciples of Hahnemann

acted upon these principles of homoeopathy in the practice of their

profession establishes the fact that they believed in the remedial

efficiency of doses that contained as small a quantity as the billionth

or the decillionth of a grain of the drug. In a report which he makes to

the Medico-Chirurgical Society of Edinburgh, James J. Simpson, the

distinguished professor of midwifery in the University of that city,

comments (1851–1852) upon these infinitely small doses in the following

terms:—

If a grown-up man were gravely and seriously to assert to the

world that two and two make five, the world would be inclined to

look upon him as doubtfully rational, inasmuch as he defied the

principles of common sense. And when other grown-up men tell the

world that they can cure this or that disease with a billionth

or decillionth of a grain of this or that common and probably

inert drug, they express an opinion perhaps even more intensely

and directly absurd than the doctrine of two and two making

five; but they do not equally see through the absurdity and

impossibility of the more complicated, but equally ridiculous

idea, of the billionth or decillionth of a grain of

oyster-shell, or chamomile, or belladonna, or the like, having

any possible effect whatever upon the economy, for, resting

contented with the mere name, they never once think or dream of

what in reality a billionth or a decillionth amounts to.... For

it is a sum the mere figures of which can scarcely give us any

conception of its infinitesimal amount, viz., 1 followed by

sixty ciphers.... Surely men holding such fantastical doctrines,

are not men mentally fit to be members of such a Society as

this.

In further corroboration of Dr. Simpson’s remarks, I may be permitted to

furnish here a few brief extracts from Jahr’s “Manual of Homoeopathic

Medicine” (Vol. I., pp. 386 et seq.):—

Symptoms produced by common House-Salt.—Rigidity of all the

joints, which crack when they are moved,... Bad effects of a

disappointment.... Frightful dreams of quarrels, murders, fire,

thieves, etc.... Typhus fever with debility.... Awkwardness....

Numbness and insensibility of one side of the nose.... Speech

embarrassed in consequence of the heaviness of the tongue....

Loss of appetite, especially for bread, and repugnance to

tobacco smoke.... Numerous flaws in the nails.... Redness of the

great toe, etc. (The list contains at least thirty additional

symptoms.)

At the present day it is hard to believe that as recently as during the

first half of the nineteenth century there existed an editor who was

willing to publish such childish reading matter as the above. And yet

one is obliged at the same time to admit that the appearance of text

like this in a reputable book furnishes good evidences that there was no

lack of readers to whom the information imparted proved acceptable.

Between the years 1850 and 1860, homoeopathy assumed a good deal of

prominence in the city of New York. Many of the leading families during

this period turned their backs on the regular practitioners,—the

“Allopaths,” as they were then frequently called,—and confided

themselves and their maladies to the care of members of the new school.

This naturally led to much bitterness of feeling between the two groups

of physicians, just as had happened at an earlier date in the larger

towns of England and Scotland; and this condition of things lasted for

at least twenty years. Hostile action on the part of the county and

state medical societies proved of very little use in diminishing the

popularity of the new method of treating diseases; and so it was finally

decided to withdraw all further opposition to the new sect and to see

what an attitude of indifference and the stopping of all persecution

would accomplish. Thanks largely to this wise and sensible policy,

homoeopathy gradually lost its short-lived ascendancy, and the more

sensible members of the community returned to their former allegiance.

What I have said in regard to the rise and fall of homoeopathy in New

York is, I am confident, true in a general way of its fate in most of

the other large cities of the United States, but I am personally

familiar only with the conditions that prevailed in my native city.

I wish that I might speak with a larger measure of authority in regard

to the causes that led to the favorable reception of this new sect in

New York, but I am not able to do this, and I doubt whether anybody

among my contemporaries is able to do much better than merely to suggest

some of the more obvious causes which favored the popularity of the new

school of practice. Among such causes I may mention the fact that in

those days the practitioners of the regular school were in the habit of

prescribing drugs in large doses and with very little effort to render

them palatable. Take, for example, senna tea, of which bad-tasting

medicine the patient was expected to take a large teacupful shortly

after the early crowing of the cock; and if, a day or two later, a

repetition of the same dose was ordered by the attending physician, can

anybody wonder if the remedy was quickly pronounced by the patient much

worse than the disease? Experiences like the one just narrated were by

no means uncommon, and, as a consequence, many families did not hesitate

to transfer their patronage to a class of physicians who never

prescribed any remedy that had a bad smell or taste or that caused the

slightest bodily discomfort. Then, beside, it is a well-known fact that,

during the period now under consideration, the regular practitioners

had, in not a few instances, been guilty of prescribing therapeutic

measures which actually inflicted harm. Such, for example, were the

giving of mercurial preparations in too large doses, the too frequent

resort to bloodletting, etc. For all these reasons, it is not at all

strange that for a period of several years (1850–1875) homoeopathy

flourished in New York. In all fairness, therefore, it may be said that

the great improvement in the manner of administering drugs which took

place, both here and in European countries, during the period from 1860

to 1880, may be attributed indirectly to the influence of the new sect.

Hahnemann died in Paris in 1843, at the age of eighty-eight.

* * * * *

[Illustration:

HUFELAND

(From Eugen Hollaender’s “_Medizin und Plastik_,” by permission.)

]

CHRISTOPH WILHELM HUFELAND, who was born in 1762, at Langensalza, in the

district of Thuringia, Central Germany, founded, about the year 1795, a

medical journal that bore the title, “_Hufeland’s Journal der

Practischen Heilkunde_,”—the first German medical journal that was

devoted largely to matters of interest to the practitioner. It was

published regularly every month and was in almost every respect similar

to the best medical journals of the present day. It was kept in active

circulation up to the time of the founder’s death in 1836, and was

highly appreciated by physicians generally. Hufeland’s reputation,

however, rested less upon this journal, notwithstanding its great

popularity, than it did upon his famous treatise entitled “The Art of

Prolonging Life” (_Makrobiotik_). This book, which has been translated

into every modern language, and which during the past century and a half

has never had a rival in the field of which it treats, continues to-day

to furnish entertaining reading to hundreds of men and women, laymen as

well as physicians, who desire to learn the well-established facts

regarding human longevity. Farther on, I will furnish a few extracts

from both of these publications, thus enabling those of my readers who

have not yet had an opportunity to become acquainted with Hufeland’s

writings or with his work as a journalist, to learn something more

definite about the man.

So far as I am able to ascertain, Hufeland’s only other important

activities were those connected with the positions which he held in the

Universities of Jena (1793–1798) and Berlin (1798–1835). In the former

institution, he held the Chair of Medicine; in the latter he held the

same chair, but he was also acknowledged to be the guiding spirit in all

matters relating to the organization and management of that important

centre of medical education.

Among the items of special interest in Hufeland’s “_Makrobiotik_,” I

find the following:—

On the 2nd of August, 1790, a carabinier named Petit jumped into

the Rhine from one of the windows of the Military Hospital at

Strassburg. Half an hour later,—as nearly as could be learned

from an inquiry that was made at the time of the occurrence,—his

body was taken from the water and carried into the hospital. To

all appearances the man was dead; no evidences of life were

discovered. Nevertheless, efforts were made to revive him. The

body was placed in a thoroughly warmed bed, with the head lying

high up on a pillow, the arms resting on the trunk, and the legs

extended side by side. The only other measures adopted were the

following: At short but regular intervals of time heated cloths

were placed over the region of the stomach and over the legs;

and heated stones wrapped in cloths were placed in different

parts of the bed. At the end of seven or eight minutes a slight

twitching of the man’s upper eyelids was observed, and a short

time afterward his lower jaw, which up to that moment had been

in firm contact with the upper jaw, became separated from it and

permitted a little frothy mucus to escape between the lips.

After this discovery had been made, a little wine was cautiously

introduced into the man’s mouth. Apparently it was swallowed,

and then other small doses of wine were administered, all of

them apparently being swallowed. Under this stimulation the

pulse beats at the wrist became perceptible, and at the end of

one hour the man was able to answer questions.

In his comments upon this interesting case of restoration of life after

apparent death from drowning, Hufeland makes the following remarks:—

It is evident, therefore, that artificial heat acts with the

same vigor immediately after the appearance of what seems to be

death as it does at the very first dawn of life; it gradually

fans into a living flame the few vital sparks which may still be

present in the body.

In the preceding account of the means adopted for resuscitating the

soldier who was believed to be dead from the effects of drowning, no

mention is made of friction of the surface of the body as a procedure of

some value. Hufeland, very properly, lays great stress upon the need of

applying heat. Friction, however, if employed intelligently, may prove a

most efficient adjunct; and, when I use the expression “intelligently,”

I mean that friction may be utilized as a powerful agent for propelling

toward the heart the artificially heated blood contained in the

cutaneous blood-vessels, thus contributing in no small degree toward the

reëstablishment of the circulation. The kind of friction required—it

seems scarcely necessary to say—should always be directed from the

extremities toward the heart.

In another part of the same work Hufeland gives an account of several

instances of exceptional longevity. One of these relates to Terentia,

the wife of Cicero, who, despite the sore trials to which she was

subjected, and despite the occasional attacks of gout with which she was

afflicted, attained the great age of 103. A second instance is that of

Livia, the wife of the Emperor Augustus, a woman who possessed a

domineering and passionate character, but who, nevertheless, was blessed

with a full share of happiness. At the time of her death she was ninety

years old. Two other Roman women are mentioned by Hufeland as having

attained a great age. They were both of them distinguished actresses.

The first one, whose name was Luceia, began her theatrical career at a

very early age and was 112 years old on the occasion of her last

appearance on the stage; her entire theatrical career having covered a

period of one hundred years. Galeria Copiala is the name of the other

actress, who was at the same time famous as a _danseuse_. Ninety years

after her first appearance on the stage she took part in a complimentary

performance in honor of Pompey; and even at a still later date she acted

in a play which was intended to celebrate the distinguished reign of the

Emperor Augustus.

Hufeland mentions further instances of great longevity which he had

gleaned from Jewish history, and from these I select the following:

Abraham lived to be 175 years old, and his wife, Sarah, the only woman

of that remote period of time of whom we possess a precise knowledge,

died at the age of 127; Isaac attained the age of 180; Jacob lived to be

147; Ishmael, a son of Hagar (one of Abraham’s hand-maids) and a man of

warlike habits, attained the age of 137; and Joseph, the next to the

youngest of Jacob’s sons, a political leader and a man of great wisdom,

died at the age of 110. Moses, a man of conspicuous intellectual

capacity and possessing a strong will, lived to be 120 years old. But

even he complained that “the life of a man usually lasts only seventy

years, or, in exceptional instances, eighty years”—a statement, says

Hufeland, which justifies the belief that 3000 years ago the duration of

human life was about the same as it is to-day. Joshua, who led a very

active life and was a good deal of a warrior, died at the age of 110;

Eli, the High Priest, a man of a phlegmatic temperament, lived to be a

little over ninety years of age; and Elisha, who despised all the

conventionalities of life and cared nothing for wealth, lived far beyond

the limit of 100 years.

The Greek philosopher Pythagoras, who recommended care in the choice of

one’s food, moderation in eating, and the cultivation of gymnastic

exercises, attained a good old age. He claimed that after a man reached

his eightieth year, no matter how great an age he might afterward

attain, he should be reckoned among those who have ceased to live.

The measures which Hufeland enumerates as being specially conducive to

longevity are those with which my readers—it may safely be assumed—are

already familiar. The list comprises both those things which a man or a

woman should carefully avoid, and those which often prove helpful in

prolonging the period of one’s life, and which may be summed up in that

old device: “Moderation in all things.”

On turning over the pages of the volume of Hufeland’s Journal in which

are contained the issues of the first half of the year 1833, I came

across the report of a very unusual case that was observed by a Dr.

Heymann in the village of Oldendorf. His report reads as follows:—

A very poor working-woman, who in addition to her poverty was

obliged to live in a house that was overrun with mice, retired

to her bed one night in company with her child who was about

three years old. One of the last things she did, after going to

bed, was to hand to the latter a crust of bread, in the hope

that the little one might thus, by quieting its hunger, fall

asleep more readily. Having done this the mother herself soon

fell asleep. But shortly afterward she was awakened by the

terrified cries of the child, who insisted that there was a

mouse in its throat. Having quickly obtained a light the mother

discovered that not only was the child retching violently, but

that it was bringing up visible quantities of blood from the

stomach. In the contortions caused by the pain the child

indicated the pit of the stomach as the source of all its agony.

The severe pain persisted for about two hours and then suddenly

ceased, but the retching and bringing up of blood continued at

intervals for some time longer. On the following morning the

child was given plenty of sweetened milk to drink. At the end of

forty-eight hours the remains of the mouse were found in the

stool. The creature’s body presented a collapsed appearance and

the skin lacked its covering of fur in several places.

For quite a long time subsequently the child remained in an

ailing condition, with symptoms of disordered digestion. Its

death, however, which occurred at a somewhat later period, was

apparently dependent upon an entirely different disease,—one

that had no connection whatever with the incident just

described.

After reviewing all the evidence in this extraordinary case, Hufeland

sees no reason for doubting the correctness of the preceding report in

all its essential features. As to the manner in which a mouse may find

its way into the human stomach, the following statement is permissible.

To begin with, it is a matter of common knowledge that mice often run

about an occupied bedroom at night in search of food, and that their

sense of smell is extraordinarily acute. Furthermore, it is easy to

understand how a mouse, after tracing the odor of food to the partially

open mouth of a sleeping child, would not hesitate, if pressed by

hunger, to enter that cavity for the purpose of securing possession of

the particles of food lodged therein; and it is also easy to understand

how the intruder might then be caught as in a trap by the closing of the

mouth which spontaneously followed. Under such circumstances the

creature’s choice of the oesophageal route into the stomach as a way of

escape was most natural, and equally so were the efforts made by the

beast—as shown by the pain at the pit of the stomach and by the retching

of a bloody fluid—to gnaw its way through the gastric mucous membrane.

Although Hufeland yielded to the prevailing tendency among German

physicians of the eighteenth century to adopt doctrines, both in

pathology and in therapeutics, which are based upon hypotheses rather

than upon facts established by experimentation, or by direct observation

at the bedside or at the autopsy, and which as a consequence played a

very small part in the genuine advance of the science of medicine, he

nevertheless, as I have tried to show in the preceding pages, should be

classed as a most useful and honorable member of our profession.

Remember—he is reported to have said to his younger confrères—that there

are two maxims which you should keep in mind, viz.:—

1. _Natura sanat, medicus curat morbos_;

(Nature cures disease, the physician merely does what he can to

facilitate the operations of nature);

and

2. _Ne noceas, si prodesse credis._

(In your efforts to afford relief be careful not to do permanent

harm.)

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The Dawn of Modern Medicine An Account of the Revival of the Science and Art of Medicine Which Took Place in Western Europe During the Latter Half of the Eighteenth Century and the First Part of the Nineteenth · 第 2 / 9 章