Old-Time Makers of Medicine / The Story of The Students And Teachers of the Sciences Related to Medicine During the Middle Ages

by James J. Walsh

Chauliac's book is confessedly a compilation. He has taken the good wherever he found it, though he adds, modestly enough, that his work also contains whatever his own measure of intelligence enabled him to find useful (quæ juxta modicitatem mei ingenii utilia reputavi). Indeed it is the critical judgment displayed by Chauliac in selecting from his predecessors that best illustrates at once the practical character of his intellect and his discerning spirit. What the men of his time are said to have lacked is the critical faculty. They were encyclopedic in intellect and gathered all kinds of information without discrimination, is a very common criticism of medieval writers. No one can say this of Chauliac, however, and, above all, he was no respecter of authority, merely for the sake of authority. His criticism of John of Gaddesden's book shows that the blind following of those who had gone before was his special bête noir. His bitterest reproach for many of his predecessors was that "they follow one another like cranes, whether for love or fear, I cannot say."

Chauliac's right to the title of father of surgery will perhaps be best appreciated from the brief account of his recommendations as to the value of surgical intervention for conditions in the three most important cavities of the body, the skull, the thorax, and the abdomen. These cavities have usually been the dread of surgeons. Chauliac not only used the trephine, but laid down very exact indications for its application. Expectant treatment was to be the rule in wounds of the head, yet when necessary, interference was counselled as of great value. His prognosis of brain injuries was much better than that of his predecessors. He says that he had seen injuries of the brain followed by some loss of brain substance, yet with complete recovery of the patient. In one case that he notes a considerable amount of brain substance was lost, yet the patient recovered with only a slight defect of memory, and even this disappeared after a time. He lays down exact indications for the opening of the thorax, that noli me tangere of surgeons at all times, even our own, and points out the relations of the ribs and the diaphragm, so as to show just where the opening should be made in order to remove fluid of any kind.

In abdominal conditions, however, Chauliac's anticipation of modern views is most surprising. He recognized that wounds of the intestines were surely fatal unless leakage could be prevented. Accordingly he suggested the opening of the abdomen and the sewing up of such intestinal wounds as could be located. He describes a method of suture for these cases and seems, like many another abdominal surgeon, even to have invented a special needleholder.

To most people it would seem absolutely out of the question that such surgical procedures could be practised in the fourteenth century. We have the definite record of them, however, in a text-book that was the most read volume on the subject for several centuries. Most of the surprise with regard to these operations will vanish when it is recalled that in Italy during the thirteenth century, as we have already seen, methods of anæsthesia by means of opium and mandragora were in common use, having been invented in the twelfth century and perfected by Ugo da Lucca, and Chauliac must not only have known but must have frequently employed various methods of anæsthesia.

In discussing amputations he has described in general certain methods of anæsthesia in use in his time, and especially the method by means of inhalation. It would not seem to us in the modern time that this method would be very successful, but there is an enthusiastic accord of authorities attesting that operations were done at this time with the help of this inhalant without the infliction of pain. Chauliac says:

"Some prescribe medicaments which send the patient to sleep, so that the incision may not be felt, such as opium, the juice of the morel, hyoscyamus, mandrake, ivy, hemlock, lettuce. A new sponge is soaked by them in these juices and left to dry in the sun; and when they have need of it they put this sponge into warm water and then hold it under the nostrils of the patient until he goes to sleep. Then they perform the operation."

Many people might be prone to think that the hospitals of Chauliac's time would not be suitable for such surgical work as he describes. It is, however, only another amusing assumption of this self-complacent age of ours to think that we were the first who ever made hospitals worthy of the name and of the great humanitarian purpose they subserve. As a matter of fact, the old-time hospitals were even better than ours or, as a rule, better than any we had until the present generation. In "The Popes and Science," in the chapter on "The Foundation of City Hospitals," I call attention to the fact that architects of the present day go back to the hospitals of the Middle Ages in order to find the models for hospitals for the modern times. Mr. Arthur Dillon, a well-known New York architect, writing of a hospital built at Tonnerre in France, toward the end of the thirteenth century (1292), says:

"It was an admirable hospital in every way, and it is doubtful if we to-day surpass it. It was isolated; the ward was separated from the other buildings; it had the advantage we so often lose of being but one story high, and more space was given to each patient than we can now afford.

"The ventilation by the great windows and ventilators in the ceiling was excellent; it was cheerfully lighted; and the arrangement of the gallery shielded the patients from dazzling light and from draughts from the windows and afforded an easy means of supervision, while the division by the roofless low partitions isolated the sick and obviated the depression that comes from sight of others in pain.