CHAPTER VIII.

THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY.

Faith Healing.—Charms and Astrology in Medicine.—The Revival of

Learning.—The Humanists.—Cabalism and Theology.—The Study of Natural

History.—The Sweating Sickness.—Tarantism.—Quarantine.—High Position

of Oxford University.

FAITH-HEALING.

Medicine in mediæval Christian history is simply the history of

miracles of healing wrought by saints or by their relics. Bede’s

_Ecclesiastical History_, for example, is full of saintly cures

and marvels of healing. The study of medical science under such

circumstances could have had but little encouragement. Doctors were but

of secondary importance where holy relics and saintly personages were

everywhere present to cure.

In the Catholic Church there are special saints who are invoked for

almost every sort of disease.

St. Agatha, against sore breast.

St. Agnan and St. Tignan, against scald head.

St. Anthony, against inflammations.

St. Apollonia, against toothache.

St. Avertin, against lunacy.

St. Benedict, against the stone, and also for poisons.

St. Blaise, against the quinsey, bones sticking in the throat, etc.

St. Christopher and St. Mark, against sudden death.

St. Clara, against sore eyes.

St. Erasmus, against the colic.

St. Eutrope, against dropsy.

St. Genow and St. Maur, against the gout.

St. Germanus, against children’s diseases.

St. Giles and St. Hyacinth, against sterility.

St. Hubert, against hydrophobia.

St. Job and St. Fiage, against syphilis.

St. John, against epilepsy and poison.

St. Lawrence, against diseases of the back and shoulders.

St. Liberius, against the stone and fistula.

St. Maine, against the scab.

St. Margaret and St. Edine, against danger in child-bed.

St. Martin, against the itch.

St. Marus, against palsy and convulsions.

St. Otilia and St. Juliana, against sore eyes and the headache.

St. Pernel, against the ague.

St. Petronilla, St. Apollonia, and St. Lucy, against the toothache.

—— and St. Genevieve, against fevers.

St. Phaire, against hæmorrhoids.

St. Quintam, against coughs.

St. Rochus and St. Sebastian, against the plague.

St. Romanus, against demoniacal possession.

St. Ruffin, against madness.

St. Sigismund, against fevers and agues.

St. Valentin, against epilepsy.

St. Venise, against chlorosis.

St. Vitus, against madness and poisons.

St. Wallia and Wallery, against the stone.

St. Wolfgang, against lameness.

Pettigrew[803] gives the above list, but probably it might be

considerably extended.

CHARMS AND ASTROLOGY.

A curious little MS. volume was discovered amongst the MSS. at Loseley,

which contained a Latin grammar, a Treatise on Astrology, various

medical recipes and precautions, with forms for making wills. It

had probably been a monk’s manual. The writing was the character of

the fifteenth century. Some of the medical recipes and astrological

precautions are said to be taken from “Master Galien (Galen), leche,”

thus:—“_For all manner of fevers._ Take iii drops of a woman’s mylke yt

norseth a knave childe, and do it in a hennes egge that ys sedentere

(or sitting), and let hym suppe it up when the evyl takes hym.—_For

hym—that may not slepe._ Take and wryte yese wordes into leves of

lether: Ismael! Ismael! adjuro te per Angelum Michaelum ut soporetur

homo iste; and lay this under his bed, so yt he wot not yerof, and

use it all-way lytell, and lytell, as he have nede yerto.” Under the

head,—“_Here begyneth ye waxingge of ye mone, and declareth in dyvers

tymes to let blode, whiche be gode._ In the furste begynynge of the

mone it is profetable to yche man to be letten blode; ye ix of the

mone, neyther be (by) nyght ne by day, it is not good.”[804]

One Simon Trippe, a physician, writing to a patient to excuse himself

for not being able to visit him, says: “As for my comming to you

upon Wensday next, verely my promise be past to an old pacient of

mine, a very good gentlewoman, one Mrs. Clerk, wch now lieth in great

extremity. I cannot possibly be with you till Thursday. On Fryday and

Saterday the signe wilbe in the heart; on Sunday, Monday and Tuesday,

in the stomake; during wch tyme it wilbe no good dealing with your

ordinary physicke untill Wensday come sevenight at the nearest, and

from that time forwards for 15 or 16 days passing good.”[805]

This is very similar to what we find in Bede’s _Ecclesiastical

History_, where (A.D. 686) “a holy Bishop having been asked to bless

a sick maiden, asked ‘when she had been bled?’ and being told that it

was on the fourth day of the moon, said: ‘You did very indiscreetly and

unskilfully to bleed her on the fourth day of the moon; for I remember

that Archbishop Theodore, of blessed memory, said that bleeding at that

time was very dangerous, when the light of the moon and the tide of the

ocean is increasing; and what can I do to the girl if she is like to

die?’”[806]

Holinshed says[807] that a lewd fellow, in the sixth year of Richard

the Second, “took upon him to be skilful in physick and astronomy,”

predicted that the rise of a “pestilent planet” would cause much

sickness and death amongst the people; but as the pestilence did not

appear, the fellow was punished severely. Stow records[808] that one

Roger Bolingbroke, in the second year of Henry the Sixth (1423), was

accused of necromancy and endeavouring by diabolical arts to consume

the king’s person. He was seized with all his instruments of magic

and set upon a scaffold in St. Paul’s Churchyard, where he abjured

his diabolical arts in the presence of the Archbishop of Canterbury

and many other prelates. The punishment for witchcraft was hanging or

burning alive.

Strutt says[809] that it was extremely dangerous in those days to

pretend to any supernatural knowledge; as every one believed in the

influence of malignant spirits, and that they were obedient to the call

of the necromancers. “No contagion could happen among the cattle of a

farmer, but the devil was the cause, and some conjurer was sought out;

so that if any wretched vagabonds of fortune-tellers could be found,

they were instantly accused of this horrid crime, and perhaps burnt

alive.”[810]

THE REVIVAL OF LEARNING.

POPE NICHOLAS V. (1389-1455) was a man of great intellectual

sympathies. He was not devoted to any one branch of learning, but

was “a well-informed _dillettante_, wandering at will wherever his

fancy led him.” Æneas Sylvius said of him: “From his youth he has

been initiated into all liberal arts; he is acquainted with all

philosophers, historians, poets, cosmographers, and theologians; and

is no stranger to civil and canon law, or even to medicine.” He was

the patron of scholars, and was equally devoted to ecclesiastical and

profane literature. Although he was the son of a physician, it is

not true that he was ever one himself, as has been stated.[811] It

is pleasant, however, to reflect that this pope, whose name is most

intimately associated with the revival of learning, probably imbibed

much of the scientific lore of his time which his father’s profession

would encourage, and that taste for learning and that liberal spirit

which has always been associated with the medical profession. The

Humanists—as those who devoted themselves to the Humanities, such as

philology, rhetoric, poetry, and the study of the ancient classes, were

called—found a friendly reception at the papal court.

NICHOLAS OF CUSA was the reforming Cardinal Bishop of Brixen

(1401-1464). Giordano Bruno called him “the divine Cusanus.” In

physical science he was greatly in advance of his age, and he united

moral worth with intellectual gifts of the highest order.

POPE PIUS II., better known in literature as Æneas Sylvius, pope from

1458 to 1464, was also a great friend to the Humanists, a man of

great intellectual power. He stands forth in history as “the figure

in whom the mediæval and the modern spirit are most distinctly seen

to meet and blend,” ere the age of science begins to strangle the age

of superstition. Professor Creighton says that Pius II. is the first

writer “who consciously applied a scientific conception of history to

the explanation and arrangement of passing events.”[812]

LEONARDO DA VINCI (1452-1519), “the Faust of the Renaissance,” excelled

not only as an artist, but in all kinds of experimental investigation.

He was an anatomist, botanist, physiologist, and chemist. Had he

applied himself wholly to science, he would have been foremost in that

branch to which he devoted his wonderful energies. He was one of the

greatest and earliest of natural philosophers. He has been declared

to have been “the founder of the study of the anatomy and structural

classification of plants, the founder, or at least the chief reviver,

of the science of hydraulics—[the discoverer of] the molecular

composition of water, the motion of waves, and even the undulatory

theory of light and heat. He discovered the construction of the eye

and the optical laws of vision, and invented the camera obscura. He

investigated the composition of explosives and the application of steam

power.”[813]

MATTHEW DE GRADIBUS, of Fiuli, near Milan, in 1480 composed treatises

on the anatomy of the human body. He first described the ovaries of the

female correctly.

GABRIEL DE ZERBIS (about 1495), of Verona, an eminent but verbose

anatomist, dissected the human subject, and recognised the olfactory

nerves. He mentioned the oblique and circular muscular fibres of the

stomach.

ALEXANDER ACHILLINI (1463-1512), of Bologna, the pupil of Mondino, is

known in the history of anatomy as the first who described the two

bones of the ear (tympanal bones), the malleus and incus. In 1503

he showed that the tarsus (or ankle and instep bones) were seven in

number, so painfully and slowly was such a simple thing in human

anatomy settled in those times. He was more accurately acquainted with

the intestines than any of his predecessors.

CORNELIUS AGRIPPA (1486-1536) was born at Cologne, and was a profound

student of what is known as “Occult Philosophy,” a strange jumble

of astrology, alchemy, cabalism, theology, and the teaching of the

so-called “Hermetic Books.” This sort of thing has of late years again

become fashionable under the revived name of Theosophy.

He seems to have been sufficiently harmless; but as he knew much

more of physical science than was considered consistent with good

churchmanship in those times, he was persecuted by the monk Catilinet,

and was forced to fly from place to place.

JOHANN REUCHLIN (1455-1522) was the first great German humanist. His

services to learning were chiefly in connection with the restoration

of Hebrew and Greek letters in Germany. He worshipped truth as his

god, was interested in philosophy, especially in that of the Cabala,

in which he sought a theosophy which should reconcile science

with religion. His sentiments brought him into conflict with the

Inquisition, but by appeal to Rome, after a long and tedious process,

the trial was quashed; the consequence being that the lovers of

learning and progress banded themselves together against the opponents

of learning, and assured the progress of the principles of the

Renaissance in Germany. Reuchlin was the author of a celebrated work,

entitled _De Verbo Mirifico_.

THE SWEATING SICKNESS.

The disease known as the sweating sickness first made its appearance

in England in 1485, after the battle of Bosworth. It followed in

the rear of Henry’s victorious army, and spread in a few weeks from

Wales to the metropolis. It is described by Hecker[814] as being “a

violent inflammatory fever, which, after a short rigor, prostrated the

powers as with a blow; and amidst painful oppression at the stomach,

headache, and lethargic stupor, suffused the whole body with a fetid

perspiration.”

Holinshed[815] describes it thus: “Suddenlie a deadlie burning sweat so

assailed their bodies and distempered their blood with a most ardent

heat, that _scarce one amongst an hundred_ that sickened did escape

with life; for all in maner as soone as the sweat took them, or within

a short time after, yeelded the ghost. Two lord mayors and six aldermen

died within one week. Many who went to bed at night perfectly well

were dead on the following morning; the victims, for the most part,

were the robust and vigorous. One attack gave no security against a

second; many were seized even a third time.” The whole of England was

visited by this plague by the end of the year. When it reached Oxford,

professors and students fled in all directions, and the University was

entirely deserted for six weeks. Medicine afforded little or no relief.

Even Thomas Linacre, the founder of the Royal College of Physicians in

1518, does not in his writings say a word about the disease. As the

doctors failed to help the people, their common sense had to suffice

them in their need. They decided to take no violent medicine, but to

apply moderate heat; take little food and drink, and quietly wait for

twenty-four hours—the crisis of the disorder. “Those who were attacked

during the day, in order to avoid any chill, immediately went to bed in

their clothes; and those who sickened by night did not rise from their

beds in the morning; while all carefully avoided exposing to the air

even a hand or foot.”[816]

The five years preceding the outbreak of this epidemic had been

unusually wet, and inundations had been frequent. It is probable that

this was one of the causes which contributed to the unhealthy condition

of the atmosphere. The disease partook of the character of rheumatic

fever, with great disorder of the nervous system.[817] In addition to

the profuse and injurious perspiration, oppressed respiration, extreme

anxiety, nausea, and vomiting, indicating that the functions of the

eighth pair of nerves were disturbed, were the general symptoms of the

malady. A stupor and profound lethargy indicated cerebral disturbance,

possibly from a morbid condition of the blood.

TARANTISM.

Tarantism was a disease somewhat akin to the dancing mania. Nicholas

Perotti (1430-1480) first described it. It was believed to originate

from the bite of the Apulian spider, called the _tarantula_, as it was

named by the Romans. Those who were bitten, or who believed themselves

to have been bitten, became melancholic and stupefied, but greatly

sensible to the influence of music. As soon as they heard their

favourite melodies, they sprang up and danced till they sank exhausted

to the ground. Others became hysterical, and some even died in a

paroxysm of tears or laughter. By the close of the fifteenth century

Tarantism had spread beyond the boundaries of Apulia in which it

originated, and many other cities and villages of Italy were afflicted

with the mania. Thus when the spider made his appearance the merry

notes of the Tarantella resounded as the only cure for its bite, or the

mental poison received through the eye, and thus the _Tarantali_ cure

became established as a popular festival.[818]

* * * * *

Quarantine, according to William Brownrigg, who wrote in 1771 a book on

the plague, was first established by the Venetians in 1484. Dr. Mead

was probably the source of this information.[819]

* * * * *

Theories connected with the origin of the soul have continued to

occupy the attention of theologians, philosophers, and physicians from

the time of Pythagoras to our own day. Up to the ninth century their

speculations were entirely idle, when Theophilus made his discovery

of the capillary vessels of the male organs—a discovery which was

further developed when in the fifteenth century Mattheus de Gradibus

first enunciated the idea that these organs and the ovaria of birds are

homologous structures; and thus originated the knowledge of the germ

cells known as the ova of De Graaf.[820]

* * * * *

The fame of the University of Oxford was so high in the early part of

the fifteenth century (1420) that a MS. in the Bodleian, quoted by

Anthony à Wood,[821] says that other universities were but little stars

in comparison with this sun. “Other studies excel in some particular

science, as Parys, in divinity; Bologna, law; Salerno, physick; and

Toulouse, mathematics; but Oxford as a true well of wisdom doth goe

beyond them in all these. The bright beams of its wisdom spread over

the whole world.”

The practice of medicine became daily more honourable.

Holinshed says,[822] in his description of the people in the

_Commonwealth of England_, that “Who soeur studieth the lawes of the

realme, who so abideth in the vniuersitie giuing his mind to his booke,

or professeth physicke and the liberall sciences—and can liue without

manuell labour, and thereto is able and will beare the port, charge and

countenance of a gentleman, he shall for monie haue a cote and armes

bestowed vpon him by heralds—and reputed for a gentleman euer after.”

Medicine was a flourishing study at Cambridge, especially at Merton

College, in the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries.[823]

* * * * *

The origin of syphilis in Europe has been the subject of much learned

discussion. It appeared with such violence and frequency in the year

1490 in France, Italy, and Spain, that the scourge was considered to

have only then been introduced into Europe from America.

“Its enormous prevalence in modern times,” says Dr. Creighton,[824]

“dates, without doubt, from the European libertinism of the latter

part of the fifteenth century.” It is pretty certain that syphilis

had existed in Europe from ancient times. What appeared with so much

virulence and such wide distribution in 1490 was simply a redevelopment

of the malady on a scale hitherto unknown.

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