It has been urged by way of apology for the mystery in which the philosophers shrouded their wisdom, that “science, like modesty, should cover itself with a veil to increase the charms of the treasure it conceals;” and this principle has been, throughout all ages, more generally acted upon than avowed.
The character of Hippocrates is at once a study for the physician and the moralist; the former will appreciate the astonishing evidences which his works afford, of a deep acquaintance with the whole subject of medicine, and his admiration will be increased by the remembrance that all the principles laid down by this great and good man, were the results of his own experience.
No treatises on disease existed anterior to his time to aid him in his investigations of the phenomena of nature, although it is true that in the Asclepion or temple of Esculapius at Cos, records were kept and votive tablets preserved commemorative of cures performed, and of the remedies by which they were effected. But if the physician admires his talents, the moralist does honour to the qualities of his mind and the goodness of his heart. Benevolent and disinterested, pious towards the gods, and incorruptibly devoted to his country, he instructed his fellow men[fellow men], not by shedding maudlin tears over their follies, like Heraclides, nor by the coarse laughter of his friend Democritus, but by a calm and even walk of life, mitigating sorrow by his skill, and showing the form and beauty of virtue by his example.
His portrait of a worthy physician may well serve for his own likeness, and in its description we shall observe that the exalted principles of professional ethics therein inculcated, are as strictly applicable to our own times as they were to those which he himself enlightened and adorned. His words are:—“The physician who is an honour to his profession, is he who has merited the public esteem by profound knowledge, long experience, consummate integrity, and irreproachable life; who, esteeming all the wretched as equals in the eyes of the Divine Being, hastens to their assistance, speaks with mildness, listens with attention, bears with their impatience, and inspires that confidence which sometimes of itself restores life; sensibly alive to their sufferings, carefully studies the causes and progress of the complaint; not disconcerted by unforseen accidents, but, in emergencies, having exhausted his own resources, holds it a duty to call in his brethren of the healing art to assist him with their advice. Having struggled with all his strength against the malady, he is happy and modest in success, and in failure congratulates himself that he has, at least, alleviated the sufferings of his patient.”
One of the great obstacles to the advancement of anatomy and physiology was the universal reverence for the dead which the Greeks and Romans shared in common with all the people of antiquity. Among the Jews, to touch a dead body exposed the offender to a penance of seven days’ exclusion and privation from the ordinary comforts of life; and it is almost superfluous to add, that the Egyptians made this reverence a part of their religion.
He, then, who ventured on the dissection of the human body, did so at great personal risk, and for more than 600 years after the foundation of Rome, no instance is known of the existence of any public professor of anatomy. About that time Archagathus, a Greek, practised surgery in Rome; and it appears that his use of the knife, and the actual cautery, was so abhorrent to the general feeling, that he was saluted with the opprobrious title of “Carnifex.” Even in later days the learned Tertullian classed anatomists and butchers together in a philippic he pronounced against Herophilus, whom he charged with having tried experiments on the living body. He commences:—“Herophilus, the physician, or butcher, whichever you please, who to become better acquainted with men, ripped them up alive,” &c. &c.
Of this same Herophilus, who appears to have been a man of humour, as well as genius, there is an excellent story told:—A certain Diodorus, a contemporary philosopher and teacher of paradoxes, declared that there was no such thing as motion. “If a body moves,” says he, “it moves into the place where it is, or into the place where it is not; now it does not move into the place where it is, for what is in a place remains there, and, consequently, one cannot say that it moves. It also cannot move in a place where it is not; and therefore, it does not move at all.” This acute gentleman having dislocated his arm, begged the services of Herophilus, who, smiling, said:—“Either the bone of your arm is moved into the place where it was, or into the place where it was not; now it cannot move, according to your principles, either in one place or another, consequently it is not displaced at all.” The poor teacher of paradoxes saw that Herophilus was laughing at him, and in an agony cried out:—“Leave, I pray you, dialectics and sophisms to me, and treat me according to the laws of medicine.”
The inference that dissection was not openly allowed, will be strengthened by a short reference to the subject of the embalmment of the dead—the first mention of this custom is found in the 50th Chapter of Genesis; where, at the second verse, we read:—That “Joseph commanded his servants, the physicians, to embalm his father, and the physicians embalmed Israel;” and at 26th verse of the same chapter it is written:—“So Joseph died, being an hundred and ten years old, and they embalmed him.”
The Egyptians believed that so long as the human body could be saved from putrefaction or decay, the soul of that body continued in existence; and from this feeling arose the custom of embalming, so common in remote ages. The embalmer was, in a certain sense, a sacred functionary; nevertheless, it was the fashion to make a show of resistance, when he began his operation, in order to mark the innate horror of any, however necessary, profanation of the dead body. Herodotus relates that in Egypt the mummy embalmers made the incision in the side of the corpse with a sharp æthiopic stone. Of these stones two varieties have been found in the tombs in Egypt, both of chipped flint, and very neatly made. One kind is like a very small cleaver; the other has more of the character of a lancet. The account given by Diodorus Siculus of the resistance offered to the embalmer is, as follows:—“And first, the body being laid on the ground, he who is called the scribe marks on its left side how far the incision is to be made; then the so-called slitter (paraschistes) having an æthiopic stone, and cutting the flesh as far as the law allows, instantly runs off, the bystanders pursuing him, and pelting him with stones, cursing him, and, as it were, turning the horror of the deed upon him, for he who hurts a citizen is held worthy of abhorrence.”[[8]] Immediately after death the corpse was put into the hands of the embalmer, who in the presence of the friends of the deceased, made an incision into the left side, as above described, through which he extracted all the intestines, leaving the heart and kidneys; the intestines were then washed in palm wine, and a solution of astringent gums. The brain was removed through the nostrils by means of a hooked instrument, contrived for the purpose, and the cavity filled with aromatic oils. The body was now anointed with spice-oils and balsamic gums (frankincense being prohibited), and allowed to remain for thirty days, after which it was immersed in a solution of nitre for from forty to seventy days (the latter being the extreme limit allowed); it was then enveloped in aromatised cere-cloths, and all being ready, consigned to the coffin, on which were painted emblems indicative of the condition of the deceased. The process is said to have cost £300 of our money, and was, of course, only applicable to the rich. The fee for embalmment alone, varied from a Talent (which has been estimated by some as equivalent to £193 15s., and by others to £243 15s. of our present money) to a Mina, in value about £3 4s. 7d.
The embalmment of the middle classes was, in some degree, regulated by their means; the simplest form being, the destruction of the intestines with strong oil of tar, and after their removal soaking the body in a strong solution of nitre for a period not exceeding seventy days.