(In Germany.) Buch der Bündth-Erznei, by Heinrich von Volsprundt, 1460.—Das buch der wund Artzeny. Handwirckung der Cirurgia von Jyeronimo brunschwick, 1508.—Das Feldtbuch der Wundtartzney, by Hans von Gerssdorff, 1517.
(In Italy.) Avicennae opera, arabice, 1473.—Guillelmi de Saliceto cyrurgia, 1475. (A French translation was published at Lyons in 1492.)—Celsi de medicina liber, etc., 1478.—Guidonis de Cauliaco cyrurgia, 1490. (A French version was printed in Lyons in 1498.)
(In France.) Christophori de Barzizus de febribum cognitione et cura, 1494.—Bernard de Gourdon, traduction de son “Lilium medicinae,” 1495.
When Constantinople fell into the hands of the Turks in 1453, many of its Greek inhabitants, and particularly those belonging to the more highly educated classes, fled to Western Europe in order to escape from the tyranny of the invaders. Not a few of these refugees brought with them to Italy and France copies of the works of the classical Greek authors, and on this account, as well as because of their willingness to give instruction in their native tongue, they met with a cordial welcome wherever they took up their new abodes. Their arrival in Italy happened at a most propitious time, for the interest in Greek literature was at that period just beginning to develop among Italian scholars. Previously, Greek had been an almost unknown tongue in Italy. Petrarch, for example, is reported to have said in 1360 that he did not know of ten educated men in that country who understood Greek; and there is no evidence to show that the number of such men increased between 1360 and the time when the refugees from Constantinople arrived. Many of the works of greatest importance to physicians—such, for example, as the writings of Hippocrates, of Galen, of Rufus of Ephesus, of Oribasius, of Alexander of Tralles, and of several other classical medical authors of antiquity—were accessible (in the original) only to those who were familiar with the Greek tongue. Consequently the arrival of these refugees from Constantinople constituted a most important event in the history of European medicine.
The discovery of America by Christopher Columbus in 1492 owed its origin in part to the restless spirit of adventure which was abroad in Spain and Italy at that time, and also, in perhaps still larger measure, to the hope of gain which might be expected to follow the discovery of a shorter and more direct route to India. As regards the attainment of the latter object, the great explorer failed, but his discovery of a new continent resulted eventually in bringing great wealth to the rulers of Spain, in stimulating maritime commerce, and in broadening men’s views with regard to every phase of human activity. The addition of a few new drugs to the pharmacopoeia was a further result of some importance. Luther’s efforts to reform the government and doctrines of the Church undoubtedly gave a great impetus to the Renaissance and therefore to the growth of the science of medicine. Men learned to use their reasoning powers with greater freedom, and as a result our knowledge of the structure of the human body (anatomy) and of the working of its complicated machinery, both in health (physiology) and in disease (pathology), made astounding advances. And it is to the consideration of these fundamental branches of medical knowledge that we must now turn our attention.
Early Attempts to Dissect the Human Body.—Already as early as during the first half of the fourteenth century physicians began to appreciate the fact that further progress in the knowledge of medicine was not to be attained otherwise than by a more profound study of human anatomy than had been made up to that time; and they realized that it was only by means of actual dissections that this more profound study might be made. Various influences, however, co-operated to hinder such study. In the first place, the people at large were thoroughly imbued with the idea that dissecting a human corpse was an act of desecration, and consequently it was by no means safe for a physician to do any work of this character except in the most secret manner. Then, in addition, it was commonly believed-and this belief persisted even up to a comparatively recent date—that the bull which Pope Boniface VIII. issued in 1300—and which declared that whoever dared to cut up a human body or to boil it, would fall under the ban of the church—was intended to cover dissections for purposes of anatomical study. The recent investigations of Corradi, however, show (Haeser, p. 736 of the third edition) that this bull was not intended to apply to dissections for scientific purposes, but simply to put an end to the practice of cutting up human corpses and boiling the separate sections in order to obtain the bony framework in a condition suitable for transportation from Palestine to Europe,—a practice which had grown to be very common among the Crusaders.
Mondinus’ “Anatomy,” which was published in 1314, reveals the fact that, during the early part of the fourteenth century, several private dissections were made. As might be expected, from the primitive character of the illustrations that accompany the text of Mondinus’ work, these dissections were carried out in a very imperfect manner, for—to mention only a single example—this author admits that he made no attempt to investigate the deeper structures of the ear, as such an examination would necessitate the employment of violent measures, “which would be a sinful act.”
The archives of the Bolognese School of Medicine contain an item which reveals the active interest taken in anatomy by the students of that day. It reads as follows: “At Bologna, in 1319, several of the Masters stole from a grave the corpse of a woman who had been buried two days before, and then turned it over to Master Albertus to dissect in the presence of a large number of students.” At the Medical School of Montpellier, in the south of France, the Faculty obtained permission in 1376 to dissect the corpse of an executed criminal once every year; and the records show that the school actually availed itself of this privilege in the years 1377, 1396 and 1446. Felix Platter, who afterward became one of the most distinguished physicians of Basel, Switzerland, pursued his early medical studies at the latter university during the years 1552–1557; and, in the diary which he faithfully kept during this period, he reveals in an interesting manner what difficulties as well as dangers he experienced, first, in reaching Montpellier from his home in the eastern part of Switzerland, and, second, in obtaining greater opportunities for acquiring a genuine knowledge of anatomy than the school itself afforded in its official course. Although, owing to lack of space, I shall not be able to quote in full the appropriate portions of this most interesting narrative, I will furnish an abridged English translation of the story as it appears in Platter’s journal or diary. In all its more important details the account reads as follows:—
Our little party was composed of three persons, viz., Thomas Schoepfius, the schoolmaster of St. Pierre; a Parisian by the name of Robert who happened to be passing then through Basel on his way to Geneva; and myself, a lad of sixteen. We traveled on horseback and all three of us were armed with rapiers. My outfit, which was handed to me by my father shortly before our departure, consisted of two extra shirts and a few pocket-handkerchiefs, wrapped up in a piece of waxed cloth. In the matter of funds for the journey I received from my father three crowns in silver and four gold pieces which, for further security, he sewed into my vest. In addition, he presented me with a rare piece of silver money which had been issued by the Cardinal Mathieu Schiner, of the Canton de Valais, who personally commanded the Swiss soldiers in their successful combat with the troops of Louis the Twelfth, at Marignan. It was a coin, therefore, which possessed considerable historical value. My mother also bestowed upon me a gold coin (a couronne). As a last injunction my father begged me not to forget that, in order to procure the money which he had just placed in my hands, as well as that which he had already paid for my horse, he had been obliged to mortgage his property.
We left the city at nine o’clock on the morning of Oct. 10th, 1552, and at the same moment the news reached us that the Plague had made its appearance in Basel. This was a most depressing piece of intelligence, especially as we were already in great fear that the army of the Emperor Charles the Fifth, which was at that time on its way to the siege of Metz, would utterly destroy our city.