Makers of Modern Medicine

by James J. Walsh

The Emperor himself was suffering from a persistent cold and was told that Corvisart, instead of following the traditional method of feeling the pulse, looking very wisely at the tongue and then gazing learnedly into space, conducted an actual examination of the chest and sounded it carefully all over, in order to determine where abnormal conditions might exist. This struck Napoleon as a very practical and possibly valuable feature of diagnosis. Accordingly Corvisart was summoned to give his professional opinion. After the consultation he was made the Emperor's private physician. When Corvisart took up the subject of percussion of the chest, it was practically unknown in Europe outside of Vienna. Even in the city of its origin, as we have seen, it was not well appreciated. Auenbrugger's little book had fallen into oblivion. Corvisart obtained his hint as to the possible value of percussion from Stoll's and Eyerel's appreciative remarks with regard to it. The Frenchman used the method to some extent and, realizing its value, resolved to call the attention of his countrymen and the medical world to this very helpful aid in diagnosis. It was at this time that he came upon Auenbrugger's original monograph. Instead then of writing himself on the subject, he translated [{76}] Auenbrugger's little book into French and made a commentary on it.

Corvisart was Laennec's patron in medicine, his favorite teacher, and the man to whom the great French physician owed much of his early inspiration. It is no little merit in Corvisart's career thus to have been the connecting link between the men who did most for the practical science of medicine, and especially for the important but obscure chapter of diseases of the chest. He did not attempt at all to claim for himself any of the merit that he felt should rightfully go to Auenbrugger, and while his own observations and writings established percussion upon a firm basis and extended its knowledge, he shares the immortality of his discoverer, and comes down to us in medical history as an example of the reward of having rendered faithfully what was due, where it was due. It has been the custom to praise Corvisart for his justice toward Auenbrugger. Mere justice seems scarcely a worthy reason for praise of a great man, yet the history of medicine is so full of failures on the part of subsequent observers to acknowledge priority of discovery, that perhaps the praise does not seem quite as futile as it otherwise would.

It is not surprising then that Corvisart's pupil Laennec should have appreciated very thoroughly the value of Auenbrugger's discovery. In the preface of his book on Mediate Auscultation, Laennec bewails the fact that men are generally neglectful of discoveries made in their own time, and fail to give them the attention they deserve. He attributes this neglect rather to the well-known carelessness of men than to any deliberate failure to recognize the merit of contemporary work. He says:

"Lack of attention is an extremely common failing of all men. What it takes years and hard labor to acquire, is not [{77}] infrequently passed over without notice. Auenbrugger's method, published some fifty years ago, though capable of being learned in a few days, and without difficulty, and of being put into practice without the use of any instruments, although snatched from oblivion by my illustrious preceptor, Professor Corvisart, and made clearer than it had been left even by the author himself, is not as yet in ordinary use among physicians. Even the wonderful invention of the illustrious Jenner, though received with so much praise, and with regard to whose efficaciousness numberless confirmatory observations have been made, is already somewhat less prominent in the minds of men than it should be, or at least it would be, only for the fact that the governments of many countries, provinces and cities, the foresight of the clergy, of the authorities of all kinds, and the advice of the best physicians have exerted all their influence to keep it at public expense constantly in practice."

After about ten years of service at the Spanish military hospital, Auenbrugger resigned his position there and took up private practice. In this he was eminently successful, being, as might be expected, especially in demand for cases involving affections of the thorax. His practice appears to have been to a great extent among the better class of people, but he seems never to have neglected the poorer patients whom he had come to know during his hospital experience. There are traditions in Vienna of his unfailing willingness to assist the poor and even to put himself to considerable inconvenience in order to be of service to them.

Tradition tells that he was very conscientious in the pursuit of his vocation as a physician, and among the family relics there is preserved a small lantern which he kept always by his bedside, to light him on his visits to the sick when called out at night. It must not be forgotten that city streets [{78}] were not regularly lighted at the end of the eighteenth century, and night calls even in city work must have been a source of great annoyance and discomfort. There is a family tradition, too, that the night bell at his house was connected directly with Auenbrugger's room, so that the others of the household might not be disturbed when night callers came for him. Every tradition points to him as a man among men in his unselfish readiness to save others trouble, and do all the good in his power.

Auenbrugger was, according to well-grounded traditions, especially admirable in his relations toward other members of the medical profession. This may not seem a very significant sign of amiability to those outside the profession, but it is well recognized that even great physicians have not always been known to get on well with brother practitioners. Auenbrugger has, besides, the pleasant reputation of having been of great material assistance to a number of needy medical students during the time of their university careers, and to have frequently lent a helping hand to young practitioners in the city, who probably found it quite as discouraging, beginning practice in those days, as any of their young confreres of this generation find it at the present time.

To physicians and medical students when ill, Auenbrugger was almost unceasing in attention. Two or three physicians of the generation immediately after his attributed to his unselfish care and devotion to them their recovery from what would otherwise have been mortal illnesses. In this way Auenbrugger seems to have been a man whom everyone who came to know him, even slightly, learned to love and respect. His relations to his family and relatives were always of the most happy, kind character, and family traditions show that his fatherly care was befittingly returned to him in his old age. The number of his friends was very great, [{79}] and he counted among them some of the most distinguished inhabitants of the Austrian capital.

Notwithstanding his devotion to his practice, Auenbrugger did not cease to make observations that occasionally he considered worthy of being committed to paper. He was especially careful in the study of his cases, and left fully written records of over 400 important cases that he had studied very faithfully. His attention seems to have been attracted particularly to certain mental diseases. This work was done half a century before even the first beginnings of the modern classifications of mental diseases were attempted. He wrote a short article with regard to mania and its treatment, and a longer article on melancholia. How well he recognized the essential feature of this latter affection and the main symptom that must be guarded against, can be gathered very well from the title of his paper, which he called "The Still Madness, or the Impulse to Self-Murder."

It is about the time that he was engaged in the study of melancholia, perhaps as a contrast to sadder things, that he wrote a comic opera, of which we shall have more to say presently. His description of the conditions that he saw during an epidemic of dysentery that occurred in Vienna show how exact and careful a clinical observer he could be, and that the demands of his practice did not absorb all his attention to the detriment of his faculty for observation. He seems himself to have suffered from a severe attack of typhus fever which raged epidemically in Vienna in 1798.