In the seventh book of his “Wars of the Jews,” he gives us the following account of one of the roots employed by Exorcists:—“On the north side of the City of Machœrus there is a valley, in which is a place called Baaras, in which is found a plant bearing the same name: it is of a flaming colour and towards evening shines very bright: it is not easy to be gathered for it withdraws itself and does not stay unless one pours upon it the urine of a woman, or menstruous[menstruous] blood, and even then it is certain death to him who takes it unless he carries the root hanging down upon the hand—There is another way of getting it without danger:—They dig all round it, so that a very little bit of the root is left in the ground, then they tie a dog to it, and the dog attempting to follow him who tied it, the root is easily pulled up, but the dog dies presently, as it were, instead of the man who would get the plant, afterwards there is no danger to those who touch it. With all these dangers the root is desirable, for demons, as they are called, who are the spirits of wicked men entering into the living, and killing those who have no help, this root presently expels; if it be only brought near to them who are diseased.”
We have already shewn how it took the devils by the nose.
Before we proceed, it may not be out of place to notice the general belief in astrology, and especially lunar influences, which prevailed at this period. Herbs and roots had their several patrons, and it was only when gathered and preserved under certain prescribed circumstances that their specific virtues were assured.
Similar superstitions are not yet extinct; even in this year of grace, 1867, we are not quite emancipated from the ignorance of the middle ages, and it is not a very unusual thing to see an advertisement in the Times announcing a “child’s caul” for sale. These and such like absurdities,
“Though it make the unskilful laugh,
Cannot but make the judicious grieve.”
Nor is this credulity confined to the illiterate classes. The dupes of St. John Long, as many of us may remember, included “potent, grave, and reverend signiors,” and on his memorable trial, a certain noble lord[[10]] gave evidence that Mr. Long had extracted a piece of lead from his head. Some scoffers think it a pity that the quack, having succeeded to some extent, left so much behind.
In speaking of Harvey, it is difficult to strike out any new path in a tale that has been told so often. Yet, we may extract something out of the consideration of the times in which he lived, and the men by whom he was surrounded. He was born at Folkestone, in 1578, and commenced his travels at 19 years of age. What his previous education had been does not appear, but we find him at the age of 24 elected Doctor of Medicine at Padua—then the most famous University in the world. On his return to England he received the honour of the degree of Doctor of Medicine at Cambridge. James the First, and his son, Charles the First, favoured him with their countenance, and in 1628 he was induced to publish an account of his great discovery. As a matter of course he was at once denounced as a visionary; personal abuse was unsparingly poured upon him; but as the grand fact enunciated was not to be shaken, his enemies turned round and discovered that, after all, it was not new, and had been the doctrine of many eminent physicians from the earliest days. The old, old story: the same sickening detraction—the same miserable envy rife in every age and clime. Harvey died in 1658.
Shakespeare was 14 years old when Harvey was born, and the garrulous but erudite Burton was about the same age, yet strange to say, the great poet seems to have been unknown to the men of his own generation: scholars knew nothing of poor players, and he who was born to delight and instruct the future of mankind shone with but small lustre then.
The history of medicine in England now begins, although for some time subsequently medical instruction was sought for in the schools of Italy, France and Holland. The Reformation had swept away the monastic institutions; but during the depressing middle ages, all the learning that barbarism had spared took refuge in the cloister. The monks practised physic very extensively, and considering the ignorance and superstition of the period, it was natural that the vulgar should prefer the medical assistance of those who arrogated to themselves the immediate assistance of Heaven in the preparation of their remedies. The women were especially fond of consulting the monks, if there be any truth in the old epigram:—