Some have ascribed the practice of embalming to the fact of the periodical inundations of the Nile rendering interment impossible at such seasons, and hence have thought that necessity had quite as much to do with the custom as the religious principle: but this idea is not well founded, for although the Nile continues to overflow, embalmings have ceased for ages.
After Hippocrates the name of Aristotle comes before us. Aristotle, the pupil and friend of the venerable Plato, whose doctrines he adopted and developed, lectured at Athens 370 years before Christ. As a physician and naturalist he was far in advance of his contemporaries, and as a mathematician and moral philosopher, his transcendent learning was, for ages, the theme of every scholar; and his “System of the Universe” adopted by the whole of the civilized world. These great qualities attracted the attention of Philip of Macedonia, who chose him as the tutor of his son Alexander (the Great). Ignorance and superstition were, however, omnipotent, and for having enunciated the doctrine of one God, and a supreme first cause, the priests of the various temples seeing their craft in danger, excited the populace, who threatened his life. Warned by the fate of Socrates, he retired to Chalcis to wear away a life embittered by personal suffering, and sorrow for the folly and ingratitude of his countrymen.
The heart’s deepest feelings are roused at the remembrance of the deeds of violence perpetrated against every benefactor of mankind who has had the courage to promulgate truths beyond the comprehension of the vulgar on the one hand, and opposed to the vested interest of established errors on the other. The fate of Aristotle is a common result, not confined to the dark ages, nor without examples amongst ourselves.
The learned Philo of Alexandria, who lived A.D. 40, has given us an interesting account of the very remarkable sect living in Egypt in his day, known as the “Theraputæ,” or “healers.” He describes them as a confraternity who, after having received a special training in the University of Alexandria, devoted themselves to the healing art; they led a secluded, contemplative life, and laid the foundation of the monastic system. Eusebius calls them Christians, but this is not confirmed by Philo, who was a member of the sect; they were, probably, Platonists, or philosophical pagans. They ascribed their cures to prayers, fastings, and incantations, eschewed all material remedies, and medicaments, but made free use of magical rites of both forms—the leucomancy, or white magic, used in invoking the gods, and necromancy when the demons were to be propitiated or coerced. St. Luke, before his conversion, is supposed to have been a Therapeut; and St. Paul denounces some of their errors. Of their faults we cannot judge, but we may admire the benevolence with which they devoted themselves alike to the physical and moral welfare of their fellow men—in this respect, no unworthy forerunners of Him who commanded his disciples, not only to “instruct the ignorant,” but to “heal the sick.”
We pass over three centuries to come to the time of Celsus, who, in the reign of Tiberius and the first century of our Lord, was established at Rome; where he acquired great honour and renown. To these he was fairly entitled by the extent of his learning and the especial attention he paid to surgery and medicine. His principles governed the medical world without a rival until the time of Galen, who divided the empire with him for centuries.
Celsus was the first native Roman physician whose name has been transmitted to us: the practice of medicine and surgery being, prior to his time, in the hands of eminent Greeks and Asiatics, excepting that there existed in Rome (at that period) a race of native practitioners, who belonged to the class of slaves[[9]] or persons of low degree; and to whom were entrusted only the subordinate branches of the healing art.
The great proficiency of Celsus on the subjects of rhetoric, philosophy, military tactics, and rural economy, as mentioned by Quintilian, has induced many of our older writers to doubt whether he ever really practised medicine and surgery, or, whether, like the elder Cato, he simply studied them as a branch of general knowledge; and this scepticism has been favoured by the fact of his name being omitted by Pliny, in his “Treatise on the History of Medicine.”
On the other hand, no one, I think, can rise from the perusal of his celebrated work, “De Medicina,” without being thoroughly convinced that his intimate acquaintance with the theory and practice of medicine, surgery, and pharmacy, could only have resulted from close bedside observation.
Galen was born at Pergamos, in Asia, in the second century; his learning was great, and his literary labours enormous. Having traversed Egypt and Greece, and acquired a knowledge of every science taught in the schools there, he settled in Rome. His works have been estimated at over 300 volumes—medical, physical, and metaphysical. He practised bleeding more frequently than his predecessors, but he gave very careful directions as to the conditions under which venesection should be resorted to, as well as to the quantity of blood to be taken.
Averroes, Avicenna, and other Arabian physicians held him in great veneration; and Dr. Alison says:— “For centuries after his death his doctrines and tenets were regarded in the light of oracles, which few persons had the courage to oppose; and the authority of Galen alone was estimated at a much higher rate than that of all the medical writers combined, who flourished during a period of more than twelve centuries.”