LOCKE AND SYDENHAM 
 
 &c. 
 
 ' Knowledge and Wisdom, far from being one, 
 Have ofttimes no connexion. Knowledge dwells 
 In heads replete with thoughts of other men ; 
 Wisdom in minds attentive to their own. 
 Knowledge is proud, that he has learnt so much ; 
 Wisdom is humble, that he knows no more: 
 
 THE UMKAI
 
 FOR 
 
 EDMONSTON AND DOUGLAS. 
 
 LONDON HAMILTON, ADAMS, AND CO. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, MACMILLAN AND CO. 
 
 GLASGOW, JAMES MACLEHOSE.
 
 LOCKE AND SYDENHAM 
 
 &c. &c. 
 
 BY JOHN BROWN, M.D. 
 
 F. R. S. E. 
 
 EDITION 
 
 EDINBURGH 
 
 EDMONSTON AND DOUGLAS 
 1866
 
 TO JAMES SYME, F.R.S.E. 
 
 SURGEON IX ORDINARY TO THE QUEEN IN SCOTLAND 
 
 PROFESSOR OK CLINICAL SURGERY IN THE 
 UNIVERSITY OK EDINBURGH 
 
 WITH THE AFFECTIONATE REGARDS OF HIS OLD APPRENTICE. 
 
 1 CSG593
 
 VERAX 
 
 CAPAX SAGAX 
 PERSPICAX EFF1CAX 
 
 TEN AX.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 PREFACE, i 
 
 INTRODUCTORY, 9 
 
 LOCKE AND SYDENHAM, 33 
 
 DR. ANDREW COMBE, 135 
 
 DR. HENRY MARSHALL AND MILITARY HYGIENE, 165 
 
 ART AND SCIENCE : A 7 CONTRASTED PARALLEL, . 225 
 
 OUR GIDEON GRAYS, 243 
 
 DR. ANDREW BROWN AND SYDENHAM, . . 261 
 
 FREE COMPETITION' IN MEDICINE, ... 277 
 
 EDWARD FORBES 1 285 
 
 DR. ADAMS OF BANCHORY, 297 
 
 HENRY VAUGHAN, . 309 
 
 EXCURSUS ETHICUS, . . . . . . 357
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 THESE occasional Papers appeared, with a 
 few exceptions, in the early editions of HOR^E 
 SUBSECIV^E, and were afterwards excluded as 
 being too professional for the general reader. 
 They have been often inquired for since, and 
 are now reprinted with some fear that they 
 may be found a sort of compromise of flesh and 
 fowl, like the duck-billed Platypus neither one 
 thing nor the other not medical enough for 
 the doctors, and too medical for their patients. 
 
 If they are of any use, it will be in confirming 
 in the old, and impressing on the young prac- 
 titioners of the art of healing, the importance 
 of knowledge at first hand ; of proving all 
 things, and holding fast only that which is 
 good ; of travelling through life and through 
 its campaigns, as far as can be, like Caesar
 
 ii Preface. 
 
 relictis impedimentis neither burdened over- 
 much with mere word-knowledge, nor led cap- 
 tive by tradition and routine, nor demoralized 
 by the pestilent lusts of novelty, notoriety, or 
 lucre. 
 
 This is one great difficulty of modern times ; 
 the choosing not only what to know, but what 
 to trust ; what not to know, and what to forget. 
 Often when I see some of our modern Admirable 
 Crichtons leaving their university, armed cap-a- 
 pie, and taking the road, where they are sure to 
 meet with lions of all sorts, I think of King Jamie 
 in his full armour ' Naebody daur meddle 
 wi' me, and,' with a helpless grin, ' I daur 
 meddle wi' naebody.' Much of this excess of 
 the material of knowledge is the glory of our 
 age, but much of it likewise goes to its hind- 
 rance and its shame, and forms the great diffi- 
 culty with medical education. Every man ought 
 to consider all his lecture-room knowledge as 
 only so much outside of himself, which he must, 
 if it is to do him any good, take in mode- 
 rately, silently, selectly ; and by his own gastric 
 juice and chylopoietics, turn, as he best can, in
 
 Preface. iii 
 
 succum et sanguinem. The muscle and the cin- 
 eritious matter, the sense and the power, will 
 follow as matters of course. 
 
 And every man who is in earnest, who looks 
 at nature and his own proper work, with his 
 own eyes, goes on through life demolishing as 
 well as building up what he has been taught, 
 and what he teaches himself. He must make 
 a body of medicine for himself, slowly, steadily, 
 and with a single eye to the truth. He must 
 not on every emergency run off to his Cyclo- 
 p<zdias, or, still worse, to his Manuals. 
 
 For in physic, as in other things, men are apt 
 to like ready-made knowledge ; which is gener- 
 ally as bad as ready-made shoes, or a second- 
 hand coat. 
 
 Our ordinary senses, our judgment and our 
 law of duty, must make up the prime means 
 of mastering and prosecuting with honour and 
 success, the medical, or indeed any other pro- 
 fession founded upon the common wants of man- 
 kind. Microscopes, pleximeters, the nice tests of 
 a delicate chemistry, and all the transcendental 
 aonaratus of modern refinement, must always be
 
 iv Preface. 
 
 more for the few than for the many. Therefore 
 it is that I would insist more and more on imme- 
 diate, exact, intense observation and individual 
 judgment, as the mainstays of practical medi- 
 cine. From the strenuous, life-long, truth-loving 
 exercise of these, let no amount of science, how- 
 ever exquisite, decoy the student ; and let him 
 who has them, not greatly long after, as he will 
 not greatly miss, these higher graces of the pro- 
 fession. What will make a valuable physician 
 or surgeon now, and enable him when he dies 
 to bequeath some good thing to his fellow-men, 
 must in the main be the same as that which 
 made Hippocrates and Sydenham, Baillie and 
 Gregory, what we glory and rejoice to think 
 they were. 
 
 Therefore, my young friend, trust neither too 
 much to others, nor too much to yourself ; 
 but trust everything to ascertained truth to 
 principles ; and as chemists can do nothing 
 without a perfect balance, so see to it that 
 your balance, that weighing faculty which God 
 has given you, is kept true in a state, as 
 Locke would say, of ' absolute indifferency,'
 
 Preface. v 
 
 turning only to the touch of honest weight. 
 See that dust does not gather on its agate plate 
 and studs, clogging its free edge. See that no 
 one loads it, that you don't load it yourself for 
 we are all apt to believe that which we desire, 
 and put down its results, as on soul and con- 
 science, at all hazards letting it tell the truth, 
 the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. 
 
 One can fancy the care with which such men 
 as Newton, Bishop Butler, Dr. Wollaston, or 
 our own Faraday, would keep their mental 
 balance in trim in what a sacred and inmost 
 place, away from all ' winds of doctrine,' all 
 self-deceit and ' cunning craftiness,' all rust, all 
 damp, all soiling touch, all disturbing influ- 
 ences, acting as truly as anything either of the 
 Oertlings, or Staudinger, or the exquisite Bianchi 
 could turn out, 1 turning sweetly and at once, 
 as theirs do, for big weights with the -g^rth, and 
 with small with the Tfnnjth of a grain. And to 
 keep up our joke, we need not be always pon- 
 dering ; we should use what the chemists call 
 
 1 A friend says, ' put in Liebrich and Jung, and that a good 
 balance should turn with nnnjTsth of a Troy grain' !
 
 vi Preface. 
 
 the arrestment, by which the balance is relieved 
 and rests. We will weigh and judge all the 
 better that we are not always at it ; we may 
 with advantage take a turn at rumination, con- 
 templation, and meditation, all different and all 
 restful, as well as useful ; and don't let us out 
 of idleness or super-consciousness take to ever- 
 lasting weighing of ourselves. 
 
 As far as you can, trust no other man's scales, 
 or weights, or eyes, when you can use your own, 
 and let us in a general way look with both our 
 eyes. 
 
 It was a great relief to reflecting mankind, 
 when the stereoscope showed us the use of 
 having two eyes, and that human nature had 
 not been all its days carrying number two as a 
 fox-hunter does his extra horse-shoe, in case of 
 losing number one. 
 
 We see solidity by means of our two eyes ; 
 we see, so to speak, on both sides of a body ; 
 and we find, what indeed was known before, 
 that the ultimate image, or rather the idea of 
 external objects, is a compromise of two images, 
 a tertium quid, which has no existence but in
 
 Preface. vii 
 
 the brain, somewhere, I suppose, in the optic 
 Chiasma. 
 
 Now there is such a thing as stereoscopic 
 thinking, the viewing subjects as well as ob- 
 jects with our two eyes. Some men of in- 
 tense nature shut one of the eyes of the mind, 
 as a sportsman does his actual eye when he aims 
 at his game, because then there is a straight 
 line between his eye and his object ; but for the 
 general purpose of understanding and master- 
 ing the true bulk and projection, the where- 
 abouts and relations of a subject, it is well to 
 look with both eyes ; and so it comes to pass 
 that the focus of one man's mental vision differs 
 from that of another, probably in some respects 
 from that of all others, and hence the allowance 
 which we should make for other men when they 
 fail to see not only things, but thoughts, exactly 
 as we do. We will find, when we look through 
 their stereoscope, we don't see their image as 
 they do, it may be double, it may be distorted 
 and blurred. I have long thought that upon 
 the deepest things in man's nature those that 
 bind him to duty, to God, and to eternity, no
 
 viii Preface. 
 
 man receives the light, no man sees ' into the 
 life of things,' exactly as any other does, and 
 that as each man of the millions of the race 
 since time began, has his own essence, that 
 which makes him himself, and qua that, dis- 
 tinct from all else, so ultimate truth, when it 
 lies down to rest and be thankful on the optic 
 Thalami of the soul, has in it a something in- 
 communicable, unintelligible to all others. No 
 two men out of ten thousand, gazing at a rain- 
 bow, see the same bow. They have each a 
 glorious arch of their own, and while they agree 
 as to what each says of it, still doubtless there 
 is in each of those ten thousand internal glories 
 within the veil, in the chamber of imagery, 
 some touch, some tint, which differentiates it 
 from all the rest. But to return : look with both 
 eyes, and think the truth as you would speak 
 and act it. It is the rarer virtue, I suspect. ' 
 
 When the English nobility were overwhelm- 
 ing Canova with commissions, and were igno- 
 rant of the existence of their own Flaxman, the 
 generous Italian rebuked them by saying, ' You 
 English see with your ears ;' and there is much
 
 Preface. ix 
 
 of this sort of seeing in medicine as well as in 
 art and fashion. 
 
 I end with the weighty words of one who I 
 rejoice is still a living honour to our art ; a man 
 uniting much of the best of Locke and Syden- 
 ham with more of himself, and whose small 
 volumes contain the very medulla medicines ; 
 a man who has the courage to say, ' I was 
 wrong,' ' I do not know ;' and ' I shall wait 
 and watch.' 
 
 ' I make bold to tell you my conviction, that 
 during the last thirty-six years the practice of 
 medicine has upon the whole' (taking in the 
 entire profession) 'gone backwards, and that 
 year after year it is still going backwards. 
 Doubtless in the meantime there has been a 
 vast increase of physiological and pathological 
 knowledge ; but that knowledge has not been 
 brought to bear, in anything like the degree it 
 might and ought to have been, upon the prac- 
 tice of medicine ; and simply for this reason, 
 that the mass of the profession has never been 
 taught what the practice of medicine means. 
 
 ' Had the same office (the settling the kind 
 3
 
 x Preface. 
 
 and amount of professional education) been 
 committed to Gregory, and Heberden, and 
 Baillie, they would, I am persuaded, have 
 made the indispensable subjects of education very 
 
 few, and the lectures very feiu too. 
 
 ' They would have made the attendance upon 
 the sick in hospitals a constant, systematic, 
 serious affair. 1 As for the " ologies," they would 
 have thrown them all overboard, or recom- 
 mended them only to the study of those who 
 had time enough, or capacity enough, to pursue 
 them profitably.' These are golden words ; put 
 them in your scales, and read off and register 
 their worth. You will observe that it is the 
 
 'practice, not the study it is the inner art, not 
 the outer science of medicine which is here 
 referred to as being retrograde. We question 
 very much if there is as much skill, in its proper 
 sense, now as then. There is to be sure the 
 
 1 We wish we saw more time, and more handiwork, more 
 mind spent upon anatomy and surgery, especially clinical 
 surgery. There is a great charm for the young in the visi- 
 bility of surgical disease and practice, in knowledge at tha 
 finger-ends, and the principles and performance of a true sur- 
 gery constitute one of the best disciplines for the office of the 
 physician proper.
 
 Preface. xi 
 
 immense negative blessing of our deliverance 
 from the polypharmacy and nimia diligentia 
 of our forefathers, and therefore very likely 
 more of the sick get well now than then. 
 But this is not the point in question ; that is 
 whether the men who practise medicine, taken 
 in the slump, have the ability and practical nous 
 that they had five-and-thirty years ago. 
 
 Diagnosis has been greatly advanced by the 
 external methods of auscultation, the micro- 
 scope, chemical analysis, etc. and there is (I 
 sometimes begin to fear we must say was) a 
 better understanding of and trust in the great 
 restorative powers of nature. The recognition 
 of blood poisons, and of many acute diseases, 
 being in fact the burning out of long-slumber- 
 ing mischief, the cleansing away of the perilous 
 stuff manufactured within, or taken in from 
 without, as seen in a fit of gout ; in all this we 
 have gained more than we have lost (we always 
 lose something), but is the practical power over 
 disease commensurate with these enlargements ? 
 is our sagacity up to our science ? 
 
 The raw ' prentice' lad, whom Gideon Gray
 
 xii Preface. 
 
 had sent up from Middlemas to the head of 
 Caddon Water, to deliver the herd's wife, and 
 who, finding her alone, and sinking from uterine 
 haemorrhage, and having got the huge flaccid 
 deadly bag to contract once more, imprisoned 
 it in a wooden bicker or bowl, with a tight 
 binder over it, leaving his hands free for other 
 work, this rough and ready lad has probably 
 more of the making of a village Abercrombie, 
 than the pallid and accomplished youth who 
 is spending his holidays at the next farm, and 
 who knows all for and against Dr. R. Lee's 
 placental and cardiac claims, and is up to the 
 newest freak of the Fallopian tubes and their 
 fimbrice, or the very latest news from the ovisac 
 and the corpora lutea. 
 
 To be sure, there may be boys who can both 
 know everything, and do the one thing that is 
 needed, but the mental faculties, or capacities 
 rather, that are cultivated, and come out strong 
 in the cramming system, are not those on which 
 we rely for safe, ready, and effectual action. 
 
 We are now, in our plans of medical educa- 
 tion, aiming too much at an impossible vmxi-
 
 Preface. xiii 
 
 mum of knowledge in all, meanwhile missing 
 greatly that essential minimum in any, which, 
 after all, is the one thing we want for making a 
 serviceable staff of doctors for the community. 
 
 Sagacity, manual dexterity, cultivated and in- 
 telligent presence of mind, the tactus eruditus, a 
 kind heart, and a conscience, these, if there at 
 all, are always at hand, always inestimable ; and 
 if wanting, ' though I speak with the tongues 
 of men and of angels, I am as sounding brass, 
 or a tinkling cymbal ; and . though I under- 
 stand all mysteries, and all knowledge, I am 
 nothing.' I can profit my patient and myself 
 nothing. 
 
 In the words of Dr. Latham : l 
 
 ' In our day there is little fear that students 
 will be spoiled by the recommendation of their 
 instructors to be content with a scanty know- 
 ledge, and trust to their own sagacity for the 
 rest. They are not likely to suffer harm by 
 having Sydenham held up as an example for 
 imitation. The fear is of another kind (and it 
 is well grounded), namely, that many men of 
 
 1 Clinical Medicine, Lect. I.
 
 xiv Preface. 
 
 the best abilities and good education will be de- 
 terred from prosecuting physic as a profession, 
 in consequence of the necessity indiscriminately 
 laid upon all for impossible attainments' 
 
 And again : 
 
 'Let us take care then what we are about, 
 and beware how we change the character of 
 the English practitioner of physic. He is 
 sound and unpretending, and full of good sense. 
 What he wants is a little more careful, and 
 a somewhat larger instruction in what bears 
 directly upon the practical part of his profes- 
 sion. Give it him (indeed we are giving it 
 him), and he will become more trustworthy 
 and more respected every day. But for all that 
 is beyond this, we may recommend it, but -we 
 must not insist upon it ; we must leave it for 
 each man to pursue according to his leisure, 
 his opportunities, and his capacity, and not 
 exaggerate it into a matter of necessity for all. 
 When too much is exacted, too little will be 
 learned ; excess on the one hand naturally 
 leads to defect on the other.' *
 
 Preface. xv 
 
 I am almost ashamed of slipping into this 
 volume the rambling paper on Vaughan, my only 
 excuse, and it is none, being that the gentle and 
 heavenly-minded Silurist was a country surgeon. 
 Perhaps a better excuse would be, that I like 
 to show that our medicus may be not only, like 
 Locke, at once a good physician and meta- 
 physician, or, like Adams, equally great as a 
 scholar and a domestic ' leech,' but that he may 
 be a poet too ; and, moreover, that we hard- 
 worked family doctors, when the day's work is 
 over, and our books posted, our letters answered, 
 and our newspaper duly studied, may take up 
 our Tennyson, our Wordsworth, our Dryden, our 
 Cowper, our Shakspere, or our Scott, and 
 read ourselves pleasantly asleep in our arm- 
 chair. May this be not seldom the fate of our 
 
 ' Henry Vaughan' ! 
 
 J.B. 
 
 23, RUTLAND STREET, 
 April 15, i860.
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 T N that delightful and provoking book, ' THE 
 DOCTOR, etc.,' Southey says : ' " Prefaces," said 
 Charles Blount, Gent, " Prefaces," according to this 
 flippant, ill-opinioned, and unhappy man, " ever 
 were, and still are, but of two sorts, let the mode 
 and fashions vary as they please, let the long 
 peruke succeed the godly cropt hair; the cravat, 
 the ruff ; presbytery, popery ; and popery, presby- 
 tery again, yet still the author keeps to his old 
 and wonted method of prefacing; when at the 
 beginning of his book he enters, either with a 
 halter round his neck, submitting himself to his 
 reader's mercy whether he shall be hanged or no, 
 or else, in a huffing manner, he appears with the 
 halter in his hand, and threatens to hang his 
 reader, if he gives him not his good word. This, 
 with the excitement of friends to his undertaking, 
 and some few apologies for the want of time, 
 books, and the like, are the constant and usual
 
 i c Introductory. 
 
 shams of all scribblers, ancient and modern." This 
 was not true then,' says Southey, 'nor is it now.' 
 I differ from Southey, in thinking there is some 
 truth in both ways of wearing the halter. For 
 though it be neither manly nor honest to affect 
 a voluntary humility (which is after all a sneaking 
 vanity, and would soon show itself if taken at its 
 word), any more than it is well-bred, or seemly to 
 put on (for it generally is put on) the ' huffing 
 manner,' both such being truly ' shams,' there 
 is general truth in Mr. Blount's flippances. 
 
 Every man should know and lament (to himself 
 mainly) his own shortcomings should mourn over 
 and mend, as he best can, the ' confusions of his 
 wasted youth ; ' he should feel how ill he has put 
 out to usury the talent given him by the Great 
 Taskmaster how far he is from being ' a good 
 and faithful servant ; ' and he should make this 
 rather understood than expressed by his manner 
 as a writer ; while at the same time, every man 
 should deny himself the luxury of taking his hat 
 off to the public, unless he has something to say, 
 and has done his best to say it aright ; and every 
 man should pay not less attention to the dress 
 in which his thoughts present themselves, than he 
 would to that of his person on going into company. 
 
 Bishop Butler, in his Preface to his Sermons, in 
 which there is perhaps more solid living sense
 
 Introdiictory. 1 1 
 
 than in the same number of words anywhere else, 
 after making the distinction between ' obscurity' and 
 ' perplexity and confusion of thought,' the first 
 being in the subject, the others in its expression, 
 says, ' confusion and perplexity are, in writing, 
 indeed without excuse, because any one may, if 
 he pleases, know whether he understands or sees 
 through what he is about, and it is unpardonable 
 in a man to lay his thoughts before others, when 
 he is conscious that he himself does not know 
 whereabouts he is, or how the matter before him 
 stands. It is coming abroad in disorder, which he 
 ought to be dissatisfied to find himself in at home.' 
 
 There should therefore be in his Preface, as in 
 the writer himself, two elements. A writer should 
 have some assurance that he has something to say, 
 and this assurance should, in the true sense, not 
 the Milesian, be modest. 
 
 My objects, -in this volume of odds and ends, 
 are, among others 
 
 I. To give my vote for going back to the old manly 
 intellectual and literary culture of the days of Syden- 
 ham and Arbuthnot, Heberden and Gregory ; when 
 a physician fed, enlarged, and quickened his entire 
 nature ; when he lived in the world of letters as a 
 freeholder, and reverenced the ancients, while, at 
 the same time, he pushed on among his fellows,
 
 1 2 Introductory, 
 
 and lived in the present, believing that his profes- 
 sion and his patients need not suffer, though his 
 horce subseciva were devoted occasionally to mis- 
 cellaneous thinking and reading, and to a course of 
 what is elsewhere called ' fine confused feeding,' 
 or though, at his bye-hours he be, as his Gaelic his- 
 torian says of Rob Roy, a man ' of incoherent trans- 
 actions specially in general.' For system is not 
 always method, much less progress. 
 
 II. That the study in himself and others of the 
 human understanding, its modes and laws as objec- 
 tive realities, and his gaining that power over men- 
 tal action, in himself and others, which alone comes 
 from knowledge at first-hand, is one which every 
 physician should not only begin in youth, but con- 
 tinue all his life long, and which in fact all men of 
 sense and original thought do make, though it may 
 lie in their minds, as it were, unformed and with- 
 out a tongue. 
 
 III. That physiology and the laws of health are 
 the interpreters of disease and cure, over whose 
 porch we may best inscribe hinc sanitas. That it 
 is in watching Nature's methods of cure 1 in our- 
 selves, and in the lower animals, and in a firm 
 
 i <"That there is no curing diseases by art, without first 
 knowing how they are to Le cured by nature," was the observa- 
 tion of an ancient physician of great eminence, who very early 
 in my life superintended my medical education, and by this
 
 Introdzictory . 1 3 
 
 faith in the self-regulative, recuperative powers of 
 nature, that all our therapeutic intentions and means 
 must proceed, and that we should watch and obey 
 this truly Divine voice and finger, -with reverence 
 and godly fear, as well as with diligence and worldly 
 wisdom humbly standing by while He works, 
 guiding, not stemming or withdrawing His current, 
 and acting as His ministers and helps. Not, how- 
 ever, that we should go about making every man, 
 and above all, every woman, his and her own 
 and everybody else's doctor, by making them swal- 
 low a dose of science and physiology, falsely so 
 called. There is much mischievous nonsense talked 
 and acted on, in this direction. The physiology 
 to be taught in schools, and to our clients the 
 public, should be the physiology of common sense, 
 rather than that of dogmatic and minute science ; 
 and should be of a kind, as it easily may be, 
 which will deter from self-doctoring, while it guides 
 in prevention and conduct; and will make them 
 
 axiom all my studies and practice have been regulated. ' Grant 
 on Fevers, Lond. 1771. An admirable book, and to be read 
 still, as its worth, like that of nature, never grows old, natiiram 
 non pati senium. We would advise every young physician 
 who is in practice, to read this unpretending and now little- 
 known book, especially the introduction. Any ' ancient physi- 
 cian,' and the greater his eminence and his age the better, so 
 that the eminence be real, who takes it up, will acknowledge 
 that the author had done what he said, made ' this axiom' the 
 rule of his life and doctrine.
 
 1 4 Introductory. 
 
 understand enough of the fearful and wonderful 
 machinery of life, to awe and warn, as well as to 
 enlighten. 
 
 Much of the strength and weakness of Homoeo- 
 pathy lies in the paltry fallacy, that every mother, 
 and every clergyman, and " loose woman," as a wise 
 friend calls the restless public old maid, may know 
 when to administer aconite, arsenicum, and nux, to 
 her child, his entire parish, or her ' circle.' Indeed 
 here, as elsewhere, man's great difficulty is to strive 
 to walk through life, and through thought and prac- 
 tice, in a straight line ; to keep in media in that 
 golden mean, which is our true centre of gravity, and 
 which we lost in Eden. We all tend like children, 
 or the blind, the old, or the tipsy, to walk to one 
 side, or wildly from one side to the other : one ex- 
 treme breeds its opposite. Hydropathy sees and 
 speaks some truth, but it is as in its sleep, or with 
 one eye shut, and one leg lame ; its practice does 
 good, much of its theory is sheer nonsense, and yet 
 it is the theory that its masters and their constituents 
 doat on. 
 
 If all that is good in the Water-Cure, and in 
 Rubbing, and in Homoeopathy, were winnowed from 
 the false, the useless, and the worse, what an im- 
 portant and permanent addition would be made to 
 our' operative knowledge ! to our powers as healers ! 
 and here it is, where I cannot help thinking that we
 
 Introductory. 1 5 
 
 have, as a profession, gone astray in our indiscrim- 
 inate abuse of all these new practices and nostrums : 
 they indicate, however coarsely and stupidly, some 
 want in us. There is in them all something good, 
 and if we could draw to us, instead of driving away 
 from us, those men whom we call, and in the main 
 truly call, quacks, if we could absorb them with a 
 difference, rejecting the ridiculous and mischievous 
 much, and adopting and sanctioning the valuable 
 little, we and the public would be all the better off. 
 Why should not ' the Faculty' have under their con- 
 trol and advice, and at their command, rubbers, and 
 shampooers, and water men, and milk men, and grape 
 men, and cudgelling men, as they have cuppers, and 
 the like, instead of giving them the advantage of 
 crying out ' persecution,' and quoting the martyrs of 
 science from Galileo doVnwards. 
 
 IV. As my readers may find to their discontent, 
 the natural, and, till we get into ' an ampler sether 
 and diviner air,' the necessary difference between 
 speculative science and practical art is iterated and 
 reiterated with much persistency, and the necessity 
 of estimating medicine more as the Art of healing 
 than the Science of diseased action and appearances, 1 
 
 1 When the modern scientific methods first burst on our 
 medical world, and especially, -when morbid anatomy in con- 
 nexion with physical signs (as distinguished from purely vital 
 symptoms, an incomplete but convenient distinction), the stetho- 
 scope, microscope, etc., it, as a matter of course, became the
 
 1 6 Introductory. 
 
 and its being more teachable and better by example 
 than by precept, insisted on as one of the most 
 urgent wants of the time. But I must stick to this. 
 Regard for, and reliance on a person, is not less 
 necessary for a young learner, than belief in a prin- 
 ciple, or an abstract body of truth ; and here it is 
 that we have given up the good of the old apprentice- 
 ship system, along with its evil. This will remedy, 
 
 rage to announce, with startling minuteness, what was the 
 organic condition of the interior as if a watchmaker would 
 spend most of his own time and his workmen's in debating on 
 the beautiful ruins of his wheels, instead of teaching himself and 
 them to keep the totum quid clean and going, winding it up 
 before it stopped. Renowned clinical professors would keep 
 shivering, terrified, it might be dying, patjents sitting up while 
 they exhibited their powers in auscultation and pleximetry, etc. , 
 the poor students, honest fellows, standing by all the while and 
 supposing this to be their chief end ; and the same eager, ad- 
 mirable, and acute performer, after putting down everything in 
 a book, might be seen moving on to the lecture-room, where 
 he told the same youths -what they would find on dissection, with 
 more of minuteness than accuracy, deepening their young won- 
 der into awe, and begetting a rich emulation in all these arts 
 of diagnosis, while he forgot to order anything for the cure or 
 relief of the disease ! This actually happened in a Parisian 
 hospital, and an Englishman, with his practical turn, said to the 
 lively, clear-headed professor, ' But what are you going to give 
 him?' 'Oh!' shrugging his shoulders, 'I quite forgot about 
 that ;' possibly little was needed, or could do good, but that 
 little should have been the main thing, and not have been 
 shrugged at. It is told of another of our Gallic brethren, that 
 having discovered a specific for a skin disease, he pursued it 
 with such keenness on the field of his patient's surface, that he 
 perished just when it did. On going into the dead-house, our
 
 Introductory. 1 7 
 
 and is remedying itself. The abuse of huge classes of 
 mere hearers of the law, under the Professor, has 
 gone, I hope, to its utmost, and we may now look 
 for the system breaking up into small bands of doers 
 acting under the Master, rather than multitudes of 
 mere listeners, and not unoften sleepers. 
 
 Connected with this, I cannot help alluding to the 
 crying and glaring sin of publicity, in medicine, as 
 
 conqueror examined the surface of the subject with much in- 
 terest, and some complacency not a vestige of disease or life, 
 and turning on his heel, said, ' // est mart guri /' Cured 
 indeed ! with the disadvantage, single, but in one sense infinite, 
 of the man being dead ; dead, with the advantage, general, but 
 at best finite, of the scaly tetter being cured. 
 
 In a word, let me say to my young medical friends, give 
 more attention to steady common observation the old Hippo- 
 cratic d/rp/^eta, exactness, literal accuracy, precision, niceness of 
 sense ; what Sydenham calls the natural history of disease. 
 Symptoms- axe. universally available ; they are the voice of nature ; 
 signs, by which I mean more artificial and refined means of 
 scrutiny the stethoscope, the microscope, etc. are not always 
 within the power of every man, and with all their help, are 
 additions, not substitutes. Besides, the best natural and un- 
 assisted observer the man bred in the constant practice of keen 
 discriminating insight is the best man for all instrumental 
 niceties ; and above all, the faculty and habit of gathering 
 together the entire symptoms, and selecting what of these are 
 capital and special ; and trusting in medicine as a tentative art, 
 which even at its utmost conceivable perfection, has always to 
 do with variable quantities, and is conjectural and helpful more 
 than positive and all-sufficient, content with probabilities, with 
 that measure of uncertainty which experiences teaches us attaches 
 to everything human and conditioned. Here are the candid 
 and wise words of Professor Syme : ' In performing an opera- 
 
 B
 
 1 8 Introductory. 
 
 indeed in everything else. Every great epoch brings 
 with it its own peculiar curse as well as blessing, and 
 in religion, in medicine, in everything, even the most 
 sacred and private, this sin of publicity now-a-days 
 most injuriously prevails. Every one talks of every- 
 thing and everybody, and at all sorts of times, 
 forgetting that the greater and the better the inner 
 part, of a man, is, and should be private much of 
 it more than private. Public piety, for instance, 
 
 tion upon the living body, we are not in the condition of a 
 blacksmith or carpenter, who understands precisely the qualities 
 of the materials upon which he works, and can depend on 
 their being always the same. The varieties of human constitu- 
 tion must always expose our proceedings to a degree of uncer- 
 tainty, and render even the slightest liberties possibly productive 
 of the most serious consequences ; so that the extraction of a 
 tooth, the opening of a vein, or the removal of a small tumour, 
 has been known to prove fatal. Then it must be admitted that 
 the most experienced, careful, and skilful operator may commit 
 mistakes ; and I am sure that there is no one of the gentlemen 
 present who can look back on his practice and say he has never 
 been guilty of an error.' This is the main haunt and region of 
 his craft. This it is that makes the rational practitioner. Here 
 again, as in religion, men now-a-days are in search of a sort of 
 fixed point, a kind of demonstration and an amount of certainty 
 which is plainly not intended ; for from the highest to the 
 lowest of these compound human knowledges, ' probability^ 
 as the great and modest Bishop Butler says, ' is the rule of 
 life ;' it suits us best, and keeps down our always budding self- 
 conceit and self-confidence. Symptoms are the body's mother- 
 tongue ; signs are in a foreign language ; and there is an entic- 
 ing absorbing something about them, which, unless feared and 
 understood, I have sometimes found standing in the way of the 
 others, which are the staple of our indications, always at hand, 
 and open to all.
 
 Introductory. 1 9 
 
 which means too much the looking after the piety of 
 others and proclaiming our own the Pharisee, when 
 he goes up to the temple to pray, looking round and 
 criticising his neighbour the publican, who does not 
 so much as lift up his eyes even to heaven the 
 watching and speculating on, and judging (scarcely 
 ever with mercy or truth) the intimate and unspeak- 
 able relations of our fellow-creatures to their infinite 
 Father, is often not co-existent with the inward life of 
 God in the soul of man, with that personal state, 
 which alone deserves the word^zV/y. 
 
 So also in medicine, every one is for ever looking 
 after, and talking of everybody else's health, and ad- 
 vising and prescribing either his or her doctor or 
 drug, and that wholesome modesty and shamefaced- 
 ness, which I regret to say is now old-fashioned, is 
 vanishing like other things, and is being put off, as 
 if modesty were a mode, or dress, rather than a con- 
 dition and essence. Besides the bad moral habit 
 this engenders, it breaks up what is now too rare, 
 the old feeling of a family doctor there are now as 
 few old household doctors as servants the familiar, 
 kindly, welcome face, which has presided through 
 generations at births and deaths ; the friend who 
 bears about, and keeps sacred, deadly secrets which 
 must be laid silent in the grave, and who knows the 
 kind of stuff his stock is made of, their 'constitu- 
 tions,' all this sort of thing is greatly gone, especi-
 
 2O Introductory. 
 
 ally in large cities, and much from this love of change, 
 of talk, of having everything explained, 1 or at least 
 named, especially if it be in Latin, of running from 
 one ' charming' specialist to another ; of doing a little 
 privately 2 and dishonestly to one's-self or the children 
 with the globules ; of going to see some notorious 
 great man without telling or taking with them their 
 old family friend, merely, as they say, ' to satisfy their 
 mind,' and of course, ending in leaving, and affront- 
 ing, and injuring the wise and good man. I don't 
 
 1 Dr. Cullen's words are weighty : ' Neither the acutest genius 
 nor the soundest judgment will avail in judging of a particular 
 science, in regard to which they have not been exercised. 7 
 have been obliged to please my patients sometimes -with reasons, 
 and I have found that any "will pass, even with able divines and 
 acute lawyers the same will pass with the husbands as with the 
 wives. ' 
 
 2 I may seem too hard on the female doctors, but I am not 
 half so hard or so bitter as the old Guy (or, as his accomplished 
 and best editor M. Reveille-Parisfe, insists on calling him, Gui) 
 Patin. I have afterwards called Dr. J. H. Davidson our Scot- 
 tish Guy Patin ; and any one who knew that remarkable man, 
 and knows the Letters of the witty and learned enemy of Maza- 
 rin, of antimony, and of quacks, will acknowledge the likeness. 
 Patin, speaking of a certain Mademoiselle de Label, who had 
 interfered with his treatment, says, ' C'est un sot animal 
 qu'une femme qui se mele de notre metier. ' But the passage is 
 so clever and so characteristic of the man, that I give it in full : 
 ' Noel Falconet a porte lui-meme la kttre a Mademoiselle de 
 Label ; son fils est encore malade. Elle ne m'a point voulu 
 croire ; et au lieu de se servir de mes remedes, elle lui a donne 
 des siens, qiio agnito recessi. C'est un sot animal qu'une femme 
 qui se mele de notre metier : cela n'appartient qu'a ceux qui 
 ont un haut-de-chausses et la tete bien faite. J'avois fait saigner
 
 Introductory. i \ 
 
 say these evils are new, I only say they are large and 
 active, and are fast killing their opposite virtues. 
 Many a miserable and tragic story might be told of 
 mothers, whose remorse will end only when they 
 'themselves lie beside some dead and beloved child, 
 whom they, without thinking, without telling the 
 father, without ' meaning anything,' have, from some 
 such grave folly, sent to the better country, leaving 
 themselves desolate and convicted. Publicity, itch- 
 ing ears, want of reverence for the unknown, want of 
 
 et purger ce malade ; il se portoit mieux ; elle me dit ensuite 
 que mes purgatifs lui avoient fait mal, et qu'elle le purgeoit de 
 ses petits remedes, dont elle se servoit a Lyon autrefois. Quand 
 j'eus reconnu par ces paroles qu'elle ne faisait pas grand etat de 
 mes ordonnances, je la quittai la et ai pratique le precepte, sinite 
 mortuos sepelire mortuos. Peut etre pourtant qu'il en rechap- 
 pera, ce que je souhaite de tout mon coeur ; car s'il mouroit, 
 elle diroit que ce seroit moi qui 1'aurois tue. Elle a temoigne 
 a Noel Falconet qu'elle avoit regret de m' avoir fache, qu'elle 
 m'enverroit de 1' argent (je n'en ai jamais pris d'eux). Feu M. 
 Hautin disoit : Per monachos et monachas, cognatos et cognatas, 
 vicinos et victims, medicus non facit res suas. Ce n'est pas a 
 faire a une femme de pratiquer la methode de Galien, res est 
 sublimioris intelligentice ; il faut avoir 1'esprit plus fort. Mtilier 
 est animal dimidiati intellecttis ; il faut qu'elles filent leur que- 
 nouille, ou au moins, comme dit Saint taul, contineant se in 
 silentio. Feu M. de Villeroi, le grand secretaire d'Etat, qui 
 avoit une mauvaise femme (il n'etoit pas tout seul, et la race 
 n'en est pas morte), disoit qu'en latin une femme etoit mulier, 
 c'est-a"-dire mule hier, mule demain, mule touj ours.' ** 
 
 1 Salomon a dit quelque part : // n'y a fas de malice au-dessus de celle 
 fune femme. Erasme mil a cote cette reflexion : Vous observerez gu'il 
 n'y avait pas encore de moines (R. P- }
 
 2 2 Introdiictory. 
 
 trust in goodness, want of what we call faith, want of 
 gratitude and fair dealing, on the part of the public ; 
 and on the part of the profession, cupidity, curiosity, 
 restlessness, ambition, false trust in self and in science, 
 the lust and haste to be rich, and to be thought 
 knowing and omniscient, want of breeding and good 
 sense, of common honesty and honour, these are the 
 occasions and results of this state of things. 
 
 I am not, however, a pessimist, I am, I trust, a 
 rational optimist, or at least a meliorist. That as a 
 race, and as a profession, we are gaining, I don't 
 doubt ; to disbelieve this, is to distrust the Supreme 
 Governor, and to miss the lesson of the time, which 
 is, in the main, enlargement and progress. But we 
 should all do our best to keep what of the old is 
 good, and detect, and moderate, and control, and 
 remove what of the n^w is evil. In saying this, I 
 would speak as much to myself as to my neighbours. 
 It is in vain, that yvwOi creavrbv (know thyself) is for 
 ever descending afresh and silently from heaven like 
 dew ; all this in vain, if eycoye yiyvwo-/<co (I myself 
 know, I am as a god, what do I not know !) is for ever 
 speaking to us from the ground and from ourselves. 
 
 Let me acknowledge and here the principle or 
 habit of publicity has its genuine scope and power 
 the immense good that is in our time doing by 
 carrying Hygienic reform into the army, the factory, 
 and the nursery down rivers and across fields. I
 
 Introductory. 23 
 
 see in all these great good ; but I cannot help also 
 seeing those private personal dangers I have spoken 
 of, and the masses cannot long go on improving if 
 the individuals deteriorate. 
 
 There is one subject which may seem an odd one 
 for a miscellaneous book like this, but one in which I 
 have long felt a deep and deepening concern. To 
 be brief and plain, I refer to man-midwifery, in all 
 its relations, professional, social, statistical, and moral. 
 I have no space now to go into these fully. I may, 
 if some one better able does not speak out, on some 
 future occasion try to make it plain from reason and 
 experience, that the management by accoucheurs, as 
 they are called, of natural labour, and the separation 
 of this department of the human economy from the 
 general profession, has been a greater evil than a good; 
 and that we have little to thank the Grand Monarque 
 for, in this as in many other things, when, to conceal 
 the shame of the gentle La Valliere, he sent for M. 
 Chison instead of the customary sage-femme. 
 
 Any husband or wife, any father or mother, who 
 will look at the matter plainly, may see what an inlet 
 there is here to possible mischief, to certain unseem- 
 liness, and to worse. Nature tells us with her own 
 voice what is fitting in these cases ; and nothing but 
 the omnipotence of custom, or the urgent cry of 
 peril, terror, and agony, what Luther calls miser- 
 rima miseria, would make her ask for the presence of
 
 24 Introductory. 
 
 a man on such an occasion, when she hides herself, 
 and is in travail. And as in all such cases, the evil 
 reacts on the men as a special class, and on the pro- 
 fession itself. 
 
 It is not of grave moral delinquencies I speak, and 
 the higher crimes in this region ; it is of affront to 
 Nature, and of the revenge which she always takes 
 on both parties, who actively or passively disobey 
 her. Some of my best and most valued friends are 
 honoured members of this branch ; but I believe all 
 the real good they can do, and the real evils they can 
 prevent in these cases, would be attained, if instead 
 of attending, to their own ludicrous loss of time, 
 health, sleep, and temper, some 200 cases of delivery 
 every year, the immense majority of which are natural, 
 and require no interference, but have nevertheless 
 wasted not a little of their life, their patience, and 
 their understanding they had, as I would always 
 have them to do, and as any well-educated resolute 
 doctor of medicine ought to be able to do, confined 
 themselves to giving their advice and assistance to 
 the midwife when she needed it. 
 
 I know much that may be said against this igno- 
 rance of midwives ; dreadful effects of this, etc. ; but 
 to all this I answer, Take pains to educate carefully, 
 and io_pay well, and treat well these women, and you 
 may safely regulate ulterior means by the ordinary 
 general laws of surgical and medical therapeutics.
 
 Introductory. 2 5 
 
 Why should not 'Peg Tamson, Jean Simson, and 
 Alison Jaup' 1 be sufficiently educated and paid to 
 enable them to conduct victoriously the normal ob- 
 stetrical business of ' Middlemas' and its region, 
 leaving to ' Gideon Gray' the abnormal, with time to 
 cultivate his mind and his garden, or even a bit of 
 farm, and to live and trot less hard than he is at 
 present obliged to do 1 Thus, instead of a man in 
 general practice, and a man, it may be, with an area 
 of forty miles for his beat, sitting for hours at the bed- 
 side of a healthy woman, his other patients meanwhile 
 doing the best or the worst they can, and it may be, 
 as not unfrequently happens, two or more labours 
 going on at once ; and instead of a timid, ignorant, 
 trusting woman to whom her Maker has given 
 enough of *' sorrow,' and of whom Shakspeare's Con- 
 stance is the type, when she says, ' I am sick, and 
 capable of fears ; I am full of fears, subject to fears ; 
 I am a woman, and therefore naturally born to fears' 
 being in this hour of her agony and apprehension 
 subjected to the artificial misery of fearing the doctor 
 may be too late, she might have the absolute security 
 and womanly hand and heart of one of her own sex. 
 This subject might be argued upon statistical 
 grounds, and others; but I peril it chiefly on the 
 whole system being unnatural. Therefore, for the 
 sake of those who have borne and carried us, and 
 1 Vide Sir Walter Scott's Surgeon's Daughter.
 
 26 Introductory. 
 
 whom we bind ourselves to love and cherish, to 
 comfort and honour, and who suffer so much that 
 is inevitable from the primal curse, for its own 
 sake, let the profession look into this entire subject 
 in all its bearings, honestly, fearlessly, and at once. 
 Child-bearing is a process of health ; the exceptions 
 are few indeed, and would, I believe, be fewer if we 
 doctors would let well alone. 
 
 One or two other things, and I am done. I 
 could have wished to have done better justice to 
 that noble class of men our country practitioners, 
 who dare not speak out for themselves. They are 
 underpaid often not paid at all underrated, and 
 treated in a way that the commonest of their patients 
 would be ashamed to treat his cobbler. How is 
 this to be mended? It is mending itself by the 
 natural law of starvation, and descent per deliquium. 
 Generally speaking, our small towns had three times 
 too many doctors, and, therefore, each of their 
 Gideon Grays had two-thirds too little to live on; 
 and being in this state of chronic hunger they were 
 in a state of chronic anger at each other not less 
 steady, with occasional seizures more active and 
 acute ; they had recourse to all sorts of shifts and 
 meannesses to keep soul and body together for 
 themselves and their horse, whilst they were acting 
 with a devotion, and generally speaking, with an 
 intelligence and practical beneficence, such as I
 
 Introductory, 2 7 
 
 know, and I know them well, nothing to match. 
 The gentry are in this, as in many country things, 
 greatly to blame. They should cherish, and reward, 
 and associate with those men who are in all essen- 
 tials their equals, and from whom they would gain 
 as much as they give ; but this will right itself as 
 civilized mankind return, as they are doing, to the 
 country, and our little towns will thrive now that 
 lands change, lairds get richer, and dread the city 
 as they should. 
 
 The profession in large towns might do much for 
 their friends who can do so little for themselves. 
 I am a voluntary in religion, and would have all 
 State churches abolished ; but I have often thought 
 that if there was a class that ought to be helped by 
 the State, it is the country practitioners in wild dis- 
 tricts ; or what would be better, by the voluntary 
 association of those in the district who have means 
 in this case creeds would not be troublesome. 
 However, I am not backing this scheme. I would 
 leave all these things to the natural laws of supply 
 and demand, with the exercise of common honesty, 
 honour, and feeling, in this, as in other things. 
 
 The taking the wind out of the rampant and 
 abominable quackeries and patent medicines, by 
 the State withdrawing altogether the protection and 
 sanction of its stamp, its practical encouragement 
 (very practical), and giving up their large gains
 
 2 & Introductory. 
 
 from this polluted and wicked source, would, I am 
 sure, be a national benefit. Quackery, and the 
 love of being quacked, are in human nature as 
 weeds are in our fields ; but they may be fostered 
 into frightful luxuriance, in the dark and rich soil 
 of our people, and not the less that Her Majesty's 
 superscription is on the bottle or pot. 
 
 I would beg the attention of my elder brethren 
 to what I have said on Medical Reform and the 
 doctrine of free competition. I feel every day more 
 and more its importance and its truth. I rejoice 
 many ways at the passing of the new Medical Bill, 
 and the leaving so much to the discretion of the 
 Council ; it is curiously enough almost verbatim, 
 and altogether in spirit, the measure Professor Syme 
 has been for many years advocating through good 
 and through bad report, with his characteristic 
 vigour and plainness. Holloway's Ointment, or 
 Parr's Pills, or any such monstra horrenda, attain 
 their gigantic proportions and power of doing mis- 
 chief, greatly by their having Governmental sanction 
 and protection. Men of capital are thus encour- 
 aged to go into them, and to spend thousands a 
 year in advertisements, and newspaper proprietors 
 degrade themselves into agents for their sale. One 
 can easily see how harmless, if all this were swept 
 away, the hundred Holloways, who would rise up 
 and speedily kill nobody but each other, would
 
 Introductory. 29 
 
 become, instead of one huge inapproachable mono- 
 polist ; this is the way to put down quackery, by 
 ceasing to hold it up. It is a disgrace to our 
 nation to draw, as it does, hundreds of thousands 
 a year from these wages of iniquity. 
 
 I had to apologize for bringing in ' Rab and his 
 Friends.' I did so, remembering well the good I 
 got then, as a man and as a doctor. It let me see 
 down into the depths of our common nature, and 
 feel the strong and gentle touch that we all need, 
 and never forget, which makes the whole world kin ; 
 and it gave me an opportunity of introducing, in a 
 way which he cannot dislike, for he knows it is 
 true, my old master and friend, Professor Syme, 
 whose indenture I am thankful I possess, and whose 
 first wheels I delight in thinking my apprentice- 
 fee purchased, thirty years ago. I remember as 
 if it were yesterday, his giving me the first drive 
 across the west shoulder of Corstorphine Hill. On 
 starting, he said, ' John, we'll do one thing at a 
 time, and there will be no talk.' I sat silent and 
 rejoicing, and can remember the very complexion 
 and clouds of that day and that matchless view : 
 Dunmyat and Benlcdi resting couchant at the gate of 
 the Highlands, with the blue Grampians, immane 
 pecus, crowding down into the plain. 
 
 This short and simple story shows, that here, as 
 even-where else, personally, professionally, and pub-
 
 30 Introductory. 
 
 licly, reality is his aim and his attainment. He is 
 one of the men they are all too few who desire 
 to be on the side of truth more even than to have 
 truth on their side ; and whose personal and private 
 worth are always better understood than expressed. 
 It has been happily said of him, that he never 
 wastes a word, or a drop of ink, or a drop of 
 blood ; and his is the strongest, exactest, truest, 
 immediatest, safest intellect, dedicated by its pos- 
 sessor to the surgical cure of mankind, I have ever 
 yet met with. He will, I firmly believe, leave an 
 inheritance of good done, and mischief destroyed, of 
 truth in theory and in practice established, and of 
 error in the same exposed and ended, such as no 
 one since John Hunter has been gifted to bequeath 
 to his fellow-men. As an instrument for discovering 
 disease, I have never seen his perspicacity equalled ; 
 his mental eye is achromatic, and admits into the 
 judging mind a pure white light, and records an 
 undisturbed, uncoloured image, undiminished and 
 unenlarged in its passage; and he has the moral 
 power, courage, and conscience, to use and devote 
 such an inestimable instrument to its right ends. I 
 need hardly add, that the story of 'Rab and his 
 Friends' is in all essentials strictly matter of fact. 
 , There is an odd sort of point, if it can be called 
 a point, on which I would fain say something and 
 that is an occasional outbreak of sudden, and it may
 
 Introductory. 3 1 
 
 be felt, untimely humourousness. I plead guilty to 
 this, sensible of the tendency in me of the merely 
 ludicrous to intrude, and to insist on being attended 
 to, and expressed : it is perhaps too much the way 
 with all of us now-a-days, to be for ever joking. 
 Mr. Punch, to whom we take off our hats, grate- 
 ful for his innocent and honest fun, especially in 
 his John Leech, leads the way ; and our two great 
 novelists, Thackeray and Dickens, the first espe- 
 cially, are, in the deepest and highest sense, humor- 
 ists, the best, nay, indeed the almost only good 
 thing in the latter, being his broad and wild fun ; 
 Swiveller, and the Dodger, and Sam Weller, and 
 Miggs, are more impressive far to my taste than 
 the melo-dramatic, utterly unreal Dombey, or his 
 strumous and hysterical son, or than all the later 
 dreary trash of Bleak House, etc. 
 
 My excuse is, that these papers are really what 
 they profess to be, done at bye-hours. Duke est 
 desipere, when in its fit place and time. Moreover, 
 let me tell my young doctor friends, that a cheerful 
 face, and step, and neckcloth, and button-hole, and 
 an occasional hearty and kindly joke, a power of 
 executing and setting agoing a good laugh, are stock 
 in our trade not to be despised. The merry heart 
 does good like a medicine. Your pompous man, and 
 your selfish man, don't laugh much, or care for laugh- 
 ter; it discomposes the fixed grandeur of the one,
 
 32 Introductory. 
 
 and has little room in the heart of the other, who is 
 literally self-contained. My Edinburgh readers will 
 recall many excellent jokes of their doctors ' Lang 
 Sandie Wood,' Dr. Henry Davidson our Guy Patin 
 and better, etc. 
 
 I may give an instance, when a joke was more 
 and better than itself. A comely young wife, the 
 ' cynosure' of her circle, was in bed, apparently 
 dying from swelling and inflammation of the throat, 
 an inaccessible abscess stopping the way ; she could 
 swallow nothing ; everything had been tried. Her 
 friends were standing round the bed in misery and 
 helplessness. ' Try her wi 1 a compliment,' said her 
 husband, in a not uncomic despair. She had genuine 
 humour as well as he; and as physiologists know, 
 there is a sort of mental tickling which is beyond and 
 above control, being under the reflex system, and in- 
 stinctive as well as sighing. She laughed with her whole 
 body and soul, burst the abscess, and was safe. 
 
 Humour, if genuine (and if not, it is not humour), 
 is the very flavour of the spirit, its savour, its rich and 
 fragrant ozmazome having in its aroma something of 
 everything in the man, his expressed juice : wit is but 
 the laughing flower of the intellect or the turn of 
 speech, and is often what we call a ' gum-flower,' and 
 looks well when dry. Humour is, in a certain sense, 
 involuntary in its origin, and in its effect : it is sys- 
 temic, and not local.
 
 LOCKE AND SYDENHAM. 
 
 ' Us n'&oient pas Savans, mats Us Itoient Sages.' 
 
 ' PHILOSOPHIA dividitur in SCIENTIAM et HABITUM ANIMI : 
 imam illam qui didicit, et favenda et vitanda pracepit, 
 nondum SAPIENS est, nisi in ea qua didicit, animus ejus trans- 
 fguratits est'
 
 LOCKE AND SYDENHAM. 
 
 T^HE studies of Metaphysics and Medicine have 
 more in common than may perhaps at first 
 sight appear. These two sciences, as learnt, taught, 
 and practised by the two admirable men we are 
 about to speak of, were in the main not ends in 
 themselves, but means. The one, as Locke pur- 
 sued it, is as truly a search after truth and matter 
 of fact, as the other ; and neither Metaphysics nor 
 Medicine is worth a rational man's while, if they do 
 not issue certainly and speedily in helping us to 
 keep and to make our minds and our bodies whole, 
 quick, and strong. Soundness of mind, the just 
 use of reason what Arnauld finely calls droiture 
 de r&me and the cultivation for good of our 
 entire thinking nature, our common human under- 
 standing, is as truly the one great end of the Philo- 
 sophy of Mind, as the full exercise of our bodily 
 functions, and their recovery and relief when de- 
 ranged or impaired, is of the Science of Medicine^
 
 36 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 the Philosophy of Healing ; and no man taught 
 the world to better purpose than did John Locke, 
 that Mental science, like every other, is founded 
 upon fact upon objective realities, upon an induc- 
 tion of particulars, and is in this sense as much a 
 matter of proof as is carpentry, or the doctrine of 
 projectiles. The Essay on Htiman Understanding 
 contains a larger quantity of facts about our minds, 
 a greater amount of what everybody knows to be 
 true, than any other book of the same nature. The 
 reasonings may be now and then erroneous and 
 imperfect, but the ascertained truths remain, and 
 may be operated upon by all after-comers. 
 
 John Locke and Thomas Sydenham, the one 
 the founder of our analytical philosophy of mind, 
 and the other of our practical medicine, were not 
 only great personal friends, but were of essential use 
 to each other in their respective departments; and 
 we may safely affirm, that for much in the Essay 
 on Human Understanding we are indebted to its 
 author's intimacy with Sydenham, ' one of the mas- 
 ter builders at this time in the commonwealth of 
 learning,' as Locke calls him, in company with 
 ' Boyle, Huygens, and the incomparable Mr. New- 
 ton :' And Sydenham, it is well known, in his 
 dedicatory letter to their common friend Dr. Maple- 
 toft, prefixed to the third edition of his Observa- 
 tiones Medicce, expresses his obligation to Locke
 
 Locke and Sydenham. 37 
 
 in these words : ' Nosti praeterea, quam huic 
 meae methodo suffragantem habeam, qui earn in- 
 timius per omnia perspexerat, utrique nostrum 
 conjunctissimum Dominum Johannem Lock; quo 
 quidem viro, sive ingenio judicioque acri et sub- 
 acto, sive etiam antiquis (hoc est optimis) moribus, 
 vix superiorem quenquam inter eos qui nunc sunt 
 homines repertum iri confido, paucissimos certe 
 pares.' Referring to this passage, when noticing 
 the early training of this ingenium judiciumque acre 
 et subactum, Dugald Stewart says, with great truth, 
 ' No science could have been chosen, more happily 
 calculated than Medicine, to prepare such a mind 
 for the prosecution of those speculations which have 
 immortalized his name ; the complicated and fugi- 
 tive, and often equivocal phenomena of disease, 
 requiring in the observer a far greater proportion of 
 discriminating sagacity than those of Physics, strictly 
 so called ; resembling, in this respect, much more 
 nearly, the phenomena about which Metaphysics, 
 Ethics, and Politics are conversant.' And he 
 shrewdly adds, ' I have said that the study of 
 Medicine forms one of the best preparations for the 
 study of Mind, to such an understanding as Locke's. 
 To an understanding less comprehensive, and less 
 cultivated by a liberal education, the effect of this 
 study is like to be similar to what we may have 
 in the works of Hartley, Darwin, and Cabanis ;
 
 38 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 to all of whom we may more or less apply the sar- 
 casm of Cicero on Aristoxenus the musician, who 
 attempted to explain the nature of the soul by 
 comparing it to a harmony ; Hie ab artifitio suo non 
 recessit? 
 
 The observational and only genuine study of 
 mind not the mere reading of metaphysical books, 
 and knowing the endless theories of mind, but the 
 true study of its phenomena has always seemed to 
 us (speaking qua media} one of the most important, 
 as it certainly is the most studiously neglected, of 
 the accessary disciplines of the student of medicine. 
 
 Hartley, Mackintosh, and Brown were physi- 
 cians ; and we know that medicine was a favourite 
 subject with Socrates, Aristotle, Bacon, Descartes, 
 Berkeley, and Sir William Hamilton. We wish 
 our young doctors kept more of the company of 
 these and suchlike men, and knew a little more of 
 the laws of thought, the nature and rules of evi- 
 dence, the general procedure of their own minds in 
 the search after the proof and the application of 
 what is true, than we fear they generally do. 1 
 
 1 Pinel states, with much precision, the necessity there is for 
 physicians to make the mind of man, as well as his body, 
 their especial study. ' L'histoire de 1'entendement humain, 
 pourroit-elle etre ignoree par le medecin, qui a non-seule- 
 ment a decrire les vesanies ou maladies morales, et a indiquer 
 toutes leurs nuances, mais encore, que a besoin de porter la 
 logique la plus severe pour e'viter de donner de la realite a
 
 Locke and Sydenham. 39 
 
 They might do so without knowing less of their 
 Auscultation, Histology, and other good things, 
 and with knowing them to better purpose. We 
 wonder, for instance, how many of the century of 
 graduates sent forth from our famous University 
 every year armed with microscope, stethoscope, 
 uroscope, pleximeter, etc., and omniscient of rales 
 and rhonchi sibilous and sonorous; crepitations moist 
 and dry ; bruits de rape, de stie, et de soufflet ; blood 
 plasmata, cytoblasts and nucleated cells, and great 
 in the infinitely little, we wonder how many of 
 these eager and accomplished youths could ' un- 
 sphere the spirit of Plato,' or are able to read with 
 moderate relish and understanding one of the Tus- 
 culan Disputations, or have so much as even heard 
 of Butler's Three Sermons on Human Nature, Ber- 
 keley's Minute Philosopher, or of a posthumous 
 Essay on the Conduct of the Understanding^ of which 
 Mr. Hallam says, ' I cannot think any parent or 
 instructor justified in neglecting to put this little 
 treatise in the hands of a boy about the time that 
 
 de termes abstraits, pour proceder avec sagesse des idees 
 simples a des idees complexes, et qui a sans cesse sous ses 
 yeux des ecrits, ou le defaut de s'entendre, la seduction de 
 1'esprit de systeme, et 1'abus des expressions vagues et inde- 
 terminees ont amene de milliers des volumes et des disputes 
 interminables ?' Methodes d'ltudier en Midccine. 
 
 1 There is a handsome reprint of this ' pith of sense ' put forth 
 the other day by Bell & Daldy.
 
 40 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 the reasoning faculties become developed,' and 
 whose admirable author we shall now endeavour 
 to prove to have been much more one of their 
 own guild than is generally supposed. 
 
 In coining to this conclusion, we have been mainly 
 indebted to the classical, eloquent, and conclusive 
 tract by Lord Grenville, 1 entitled, Oxford and Locke; 
 to Lord King's Life of his great kinsman ; to Wood's 
 Athena and Fasti Oxonienses; to the letters from 
 Locke to Drs. Mapletoft, Molyneux, Sir Hans Sloane, 
 and Boyle, published in the collected edition of his 
 works ; to Ward's Lives of the Gresham Professors ; 
 and to a very curious collection of letters of Locke, 
 Algernon Sidney, the second Lord Shaftesbury, and 
 others, edited and privately printed by Dr. Thomas 
 Forster ; and to a Medical Commonplace Book, and 
 many very interesting letters on medical subjects, by 
 his great kinsman, in the possession of the Earl of 
 Lovelace, and to which, by his Lordship's kindness, 
 we have had access ; some of the letters are to 
 Fletcher of Saltoun, on the health of his brother's 
 wife, and, for unincumbered good sense, rational 
 trust in nature's vis medicatrix, and wholesome fear 
 of polypharmacy and the nimia diligentia of his 
 time, might have been written by Dr. Combe or Sir 
 James Clark. 
 
 Le Clerc, in his Eloge upon Locke in the Biblio- 
 1 See Note A.
 
 Locke and Sydenham. 41 
 
 theque Choisie (and in this he has been followed by 
 all subsequent biographers), states, that when a stu- 
 dent at Christ Church, Oxford, he devoted himself 
 with great earnestness to the study of Medicine, but 
 that he never practised it as his profession, his chief 
 object having been to qualify himself to act as his 
 own physician, on account of his general feebleness 
 of health, and tendency to consumption. To show 
 the incorrectness of this statement, we give the follow- 
 ing short notice of his medical studies and practice ; 
 it is necessarily slight, but justifies, we think, our 
 assertion in regard to him as a practitioner in 
 medicine. 
 
 LOCKE was born in 1632 at Wrington, Somerset- 
 shire, on the 2 gth of August, the anniversary, as Dr. 
 Forster takes care to let us know, of the Decollation 
 of St. John the Baptist eight years after Sydenham, 
 and ten before Newton. He left Westminster School 
 in 1651, and entered Christ Church, distinguishing 
 himself chiefly in the departments of medicine and 
 general physics, and greatly enamoured of the bril- 
 liant and then new philosophy of Descartes. 
 
 In connexion with Locke's university studies, 
 Anthony Wood, in his autobiography, has the fol- 
 lowing curious passage : *' I began a course of' 
 chemistry under the noted chemist and rosicrucian 
 Peter Sthael of Strasburg, a strict Lutheran, and a 
 great hater of women. The club consisted of ten,
 
 42 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 whereof were Frank Turner, now Bishop of Ely, 
 Benjamin Woodroof, now Canon of Christ Church, 
 and John Locke of the same house, now a noted 
 writer. This same John Locke was a man of a 
 turbulent spirit, clamorous, and never contented ; 
 while the rest of our club took notes from the mouth 
 of their master, who sat at the upper end of a long 
 table, the said Locke scorned to do this, but was for 
 ever prating and troublesome.' This misogynistical 
 rosicrucian was brought over to Oxford by Boyle, 
 and had among his pupils Sir Christopher Wren, Dr. 
 Wallis, and Sir Thomas Millington. The fees were 
 three pounds, one-half paid in advance. 
 
 Locke continued through life greatly addicted to 
 medical and chemical researches. He kept the first 
 regular journal of the weather, and published it from 
 time to time in the Philosophical Transactions, and in 
 Boyle's History of the Air. He used in his observa- 
 tions a barometer, a thermometer, and a hygrometer. 
 His letters to Boyle are full of experiments and 
 speculations about chemistry and medicine ; and in a 
 journal kept by him when travelling in France is this 
 remarkable entry : ' M. Toinard produced a large 
 bottle of muscat ; it was clear when he set it on the 
 table, but when the stopper was drawn, a multitude 
 of little bubbles arose. It comes from this, that the 
 included air had liberty to expand itself: query , 
 ivhethcr this be air new generated. Take a bottle of
 
 Locke and Syden/iam. 43 
 
 fermenting liquor, and tie a bladder over its mouth, 
 how much new air will this produce, and has this the 
 quality of common air T We need hardly add, that 
 about a hundred years after this Dr. Black answered 
 this capital query, and in doing so, transformed the 
 whole face of chemistry. 
 
 We now find that, in contradiction to the generally 
 received account, ' sour' Anthony Wood, who was 
 an Oxford man and living on the spot, says in his 
 spiteful way, ' Mr. Locke, after having gone through 
 the usual courses preparatory to practice, entered 
 upon the physic line, and got some business at Ox- 
 ford.' Nothing can be more explicit than this, and 
 more directly opposed to Le Clerc's account of his 
 friend's early life, which, it may be remembered, was 
 chiefly derived from notes furnished by the second 
 Lord Shaftesbury, whose information must necessarily 
 have been at second or third hand. In 1666, Lord 
 Ashley, afterwards the first Lord Shaftesbury, came 
 to Oxford to drink the water of Astrop ; he was suf- 
 fering from an abscess in his chest, the consequence 
 of a fall from his horse. Dr. Thomas, his lordship's 
 attendant, happening to be called out of town, sent 
 his friend Locke, then practising there, who examined 
 into his complaints, and advised the abscess to be 
 opened ; this was done, and, as the story goes, his 
 lordship's life was saved. From this circumstance 
 took its origin the well-known friendship of these two
 
 44 Locke and Sydcnham. 
 
 famous men. That their connexion at first was 
 chiefly that of patient and doctor, is plain from the 
 expression, ' He, the Earl, would not suffer him to 
 practise medicine out of his house, except among 
 some of his particular friends,' implying that he was 
 practising when he took him. 
 
 In 1668, Locke, then in his thirty-sixth year, accom- 
 panied the Earl and Countess of Northumberland to 
 the Continent, as their physician. The Earl died on 
 his journey to Rome, leaving Locke with the Coun- 
 tess in Paris. When there, he attended her during a 
 violent attack of what seems to have been tic-dou- 
 loureux, an interesting account of which, and of the 
 treatment he adopted, was presented by the late Lord 
 King to the London College of Physicians and read 
 before them in 1829. By the great kindness of the 
 late Dr. Paris, President of the College, we had access 
 to a copy of this medical and literary curiosity, which 
 besides its own value as a plain, clear statement of 
 the case, and as an example of simple skilful treat- 
 ment, is the best of all proofs that at that time Locke 
 was a regular physician. We cannot give it higher 
 praise, or indicate more significantly its wonderful 
 superiority to the cases to be found in medical authors 
 of the same date, than by saying that in expression, 
 in description, in diagnosis, and in treatment, it 
 differs very little from what we have in our own best 
 works.
 
 . Locke and Sydenham. 45 
 
 After the Earl's death, Locke returned to England, 
 and seems to have lived partly at Exeter House with 
 Lord Shaftesbury, and partly at Oxford. It was in 
 1670, at the latter place, that he sketched the first 
 outline of his immortal Essay, the origin of which he 
 has so modestly recorded in his Epistle to the Reader. 
 Dr. Thomas, and most probably Dr. Sydenham, were 
 among the ' five or six friends meeting at my cham- 
 ber,' who started the idea of that work, ' which has 
 done more than any other single work to rectify pre- 
 judice, to undermine established errors, to diffuse a 
 just mode of thinking, to excite a fearless spirit of 
 inquiry, and yet to contain it within the boundaries 
 nature has set to the human faculties. If Bacon first 
 discovered the rules by which knowledge is to be 
 advanced, Locke has most contributed by precept 
 and example to make mankind at large observe them, 
 and has thus led to that general diffusion of a health- 
 ful and vigorous understanding, which is at once the 
 greatest of all improvements, and the instrument by 
 which all other improvements must be accomplished.' 
 
 About this time, Locke seems to have been made 
 a Fellow of the Royal Society. In 1674, he took 
 the degree of Bachelor of Medicine ; he never was 
 Doctor of Medicine, though he generally passed 
 among his friends as Dr. Locke. 
 
 In 1675, he went abroad for his health, and appar- 
 ently, also, to pursue his medical studies. He re-
 
 46 Locke and Syden/iam. 
 
 mained for some time at Montpellier, then the most 
 famous of the schools of medicine. He attended 
 the lectures of the celebrated Barbeyrac, to whose 
 teaching Sydenham is understood to have been so 
 much indebted. When there, and during his resi- 
 dence abroad, he kept a diary, large extracts from 
 which are for the first time given by Lord King. 1 
 The following is his account of the annual ' capping' 
 at Montpellier. { The manner of making a Doctor 
 of Physic is this : ist, a procession in scarlet robes 
 and black caps the professor took his seat and 
 after a company of fiddlers had played a certain time, 
 he made them a sign to hold, that he might have an 
 opportunity to entertain the company, which he did 
 in a speech against innovations the musicians then 
 took their turn. The Inceptor or candidate then 
 began his speech, wherein I found little edification, 
 being chiefly complimentary to the chancellor and 
 professors, who were present. The Doctor then put 
 on his head the cap that had marched in on the 
 
 1 Lord King refers to numerous passages in Locke's Diaries 
 exclusively devoted to medical subjects, which he has refrained 
 from publishing, as unlikely to interest the general public ; and 
 Dr. Forster gives us to understand that he has in his possession 
 ' some ludicrous, sarcastic, and truly witty letters to his friend 
 Furley on medicine, his original profession ;' but which letters 
 the Doctor declines giving to the public ' in these days of absurd 
 refinement.' We would gladly forswear our refinement to have 
 a sight o*f them ; anything that Locke considered worth the 
 writing down about anything is likely to be worth the reading.
 
 L ocke and Sydenham. 4 7 
 
 beadle's staff, in sign of his electorship put a ring 
 upon his finger girt himself about the loins with a 
 gold chain made him sit down beside him that 
 having taken pains he might now take ease, and 
 kissed and embraced him in token of the friendship 
 which ought to be amongst them.' 
 
 From Montpellier he went to Paris, and was a 
 diligent student of anatomy under Dr. Guenelon, 
 with whom he was afterwards so intimate, when 
 living in exile at Amsterdam. 
 
 In June 1677, when in Paris, he wrote the fol- 
 lowing jocular letter to his friend Dr. Mapletoft, then 
 physic professor at Gresham College. This letter, 
 which is not noticed in any life of Locke that we 
 have seen, is thus introduced by Dr. Ward : ' Dr. 
 Mapletoft did not continue long at Gresham, and yet 
 longer than he seems to have designed, by a letter to 
 him, written by the famous Mr. John Locke, dated 
 from Paris, 22d June 1677, in which is this passage : 
 " If either absence (which sometimes increases our 
 desires) or love (which we see every day produces 
 strange effects in the world) have softened you, or 
 disposed you towards a liking for any of our fine new 
 things, 'tis but saying so, and I am ready to furnish 
 you, and should be sorry not to be employed ; I 
 mention love, for you know I have a particular 
 interest of my own in it. When you look that way, 
 nobody will be readier, as you may guess, to throw
 
 48 Locke and Sydcnhani. 
 
 an old shoe after you, much for your own sake, and 
 a little for a friend of yours. But were I to advise, 
 perhaps I should say that the lodgings at Gresham 
 College were a quiet and comfortable habitation." 
 By this passage,' continues Ward, ' it seems probable 
 that Dr. Mapletoft had then some views to marriage, 
 and that Mr. Locke was desirous, should it so fall 
 out, to succeed him. But neither of these events 
 happened at the time, for the Doctor held his pro- 
 fessorship till the loth October 1679, an d, m Novem- 
 ber following, married Rebecca, the daughter of Mr. 
 Lucy Knightley of Hackney, a Hamburg merchant.' 
 And we know that on the loth of May that same 
 year, Locke was sent for from Paris by Lord Shaftes- 
 bury, when his Lordship was made President of Sir 
 William Temple's Council, half a year after which 
 they were both exiles in Holland. As we have 
 already said, there is something very characteristic 
 in this jocular, pawky, affectionate letter. 
 
 There can be little doubt from this, that so late as 
 1677, when he was forty-five years of age, Locke 
 was able and willing to undertake the formal teaching 
 of medicine. 
 
 It would not be easy to say how much mankind 
 would have at once lost and gained how much the 
 philosophy of mind would have been hindered, and 
 how much that of medicine would have been ad- 
 vanced, had John Locke's lungs been as sound as
 
 Locke and Sydenham. 49 
 
 his understanding, and had he ' stuck to the physic 
 line,' or had his friend Dr. Mapletoft ' looked that 
 way' a little earlier, and made Rebecca Knightley his 
 wife two years sooner, or had Lord Shaftesbury 
 missed the royal reconcilement and his half-year's 
 presidency. 
 
 Medicine would assuredly have gained something 
 it still lacks, and now perhaps more than ever, had 
 that ' friend of yours,' having thrown the old shoe 
 with due solemnity and precision after the happy 
 couple, much for their sakes and a little for his own, 
 settled down in that quiet, comfortable, baccalaurian 
 habitation, over-against the entrance into Bishopsgate 
 Street ; and had thenceforward, in the prime of life, 
 directed the full vigour of that liberal, enlightened, 
 sound, humane, and practical understanding, to the 
 exposition of what Lord Grenville so justly calls 
 ' the large and difficult' subject of medicine. What 
 an amount of gain to rational and effective medicine 
 what demolition of venerable and mischievous 
 error what fearless innovations what exposition of 
 immediately useful truth what an example for all 
 future labourers in that vast and perilous field, of the 
 best method 'of attaining the best ends, might not have 
 been expected from him of whom it was truly said 
 that ' he knew something of everything that could be 
 useful to mankind ! ' It is no wonder then, that, 
 looking from the side of medicine, we grudge the loss
 
 50 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 of the Locke ' Physic Lectures,' and wish that we 
 might, without fable, imagine ourselves in that quaint, 
 steep-roofed quadrangle, with its fifteen trees, and its 
 diagonal walks across the green court ; and at eight 
 o'clock, when the morning sun was falling on the 
 long legs and antennae of good Sir Thomas's gilded 
 grasshoppers, and the mighty hum of awakening Lon- 
 don was beginning to rise, might figure to ourselves 
 the great philosopher stepping briskly through the 
 gate into his lecture-room his handsome, serious 
 face, set ' in his hood, according to his degree in the 
 university, as was thought meet for more order and 
 comeliness sake,' and there, twice every week in the 
 term, deliver the ' solemn Physic Lecture,' in the 
 Latin tongue, in dutiful accordance with the ' agree- 
 ment, tripartite, between the mayor, commonalty, 
 and citizens of London the wardens and common- 
 alty of the mystery of mercers, and the Lecturers in 
 Gresham House ;' and again, six hours later, read the 
 same ' solemn lecture,' we would fancy with more of 
 relish and spirit, in the ' English tongue,' ' forasmuch,' 
 so the worthy Founder's will goes, ' as the greater 
 part of the auditory is like to be of such citizens and 
 others as have small knowledge, or none at all, of 
 the Latin tongue, and for that every man, for his 
 health's sake, will desire to have some knowledge of 
 the art of physic.' 
 
 We have good evidence, from the general bent
 
 Locke and Sydenham. 5 1 
 
 and spirit of Locke's mind, and from occasional 
 passages in his letters, especially those to Dr. 
 Molyneux, that he was fully aware of the condi- 
 tion of medicine at that time, and of the only 
 way by which it could be improved. Writing to 
 Dr. Molyneux, he says, 'I perfectly agree with 
 you concerning general theories the curse of the 
 time, and destructive not less of life than of science 
 they are for the most part but a sort of wak- 
 ing dream, with which, when men have warmed 
 their heads, they pass into unquestionable truths. 
 This is beginning at the wrong end, men laying the 
 foundation in their own fancies, and then suiting 
 the phenomena of diseases, and the cure of them, 
 to these fancies. I wonder, after the pattern Dr. 
 Sydenham has set of a better way, men should 
 return again to this romance-way of physic. But 
 I see it is more easy and more natural for men to 
 build castles in the air of their own than to sun>ey 
 well those that are on the ground. Nicely to observe 
 the history of diseases in all their changes and cir- 
 cumstances is a work of time, accurateness, attention, 
 and judgment, and wherein if men, through pre- 
 possession or oscitancy, mistake, they may be con- 
 vinced of their error by unerring nature and matter 
 of fact. What we know of the works of nature, 
 especially in the constitution of health and the 
 operations of our own bodies, is only by the sensible
 
 5 2 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 effects, but not by any certainty we can have, of the 
 tools she uses, or the ways she works by. 1 
 
 Exact, patient, honest, ' nice ' observation, is 
 neither easy nor common ; as Buffon says : ' II 
 y a une espece de force de gdnie, et de courage 
 d'esprit, a pouvoir envisager sans s'e'tonner, la 
 Nature dans la multitude innombrable de ses pro- 
 ductions, et a se croire capable de les comprendre 
 et de les comparer ; il y a une espece de gout, a 
 les aimer, plus grand que le gout qui n'a pour but, 
 que des objets particuliers, et 1'un peut dire, que 
 1'amour et 1'etude de la Nature, suppose dans 
 1'esprit deux qualite's qui paroissent opposees, les 
 grandes vues d'un gdnie ardent, qui embrasse tout 
 d'un coup-d'ceil, et les petites attentions d'un in- 
 stinct laborieux, que ne s'attache qu'a un seul 
 point' 
 
 Gaubius calls it ' masculum illud observandi 
 studium veteribus tantopere excultum ;' and Dr. 
 Samuel Brown, heu nimiuni brevis cevi decus et desi- 
 derium ! thus enforces the same truth : ' Few 
 people are aware of the difficulty of the art of 
 simple observation ; to observe properly in the 
 simplest of the physical sciences requires a long 
 and severe training. No one knows this so feel- 
 ingly as the great discoverer. Faraday once said 
 that he always doubts his own observations. Mit- 
 scherlich said it required fourteen years to discover
 
 Locke and Sydenham. 53 
 
 and establish a single new fact in chemistry. An 
 enthusiastic student one day betook himself to 
 Cuvier with a new muscle he supposed he had 
 discovered. The master bade his scholar return 
 to him with the same discovery in six months ! ' 
 
 But we must draw this notice of Locke in his 
 character of Doctor to a close. In the Philosophical 
 Transactions for 1697, there is an account by him 
 of an odd case of hypertrophied nails, which he had 
 seen at La Charite' when in Paris, and he gives 
 pictures of the hornlike excrescences, one of them 
 upwards of four inches long. The second Lord 
 Shaftesbury, who was Locke's pupil, and for whom 
 he chose a wife, in a letter to Furley, who seems to 
 have been suffering from a relapse of intermittent 
 fever, explains, with great distinctness and good 
 sense, ' Dr. LockJs and all our ingeniouse and 
 able doctors' method' of treating this disease with 
 the Peruvian bark ; adding, ' I am satisfied, that 
 of all medicines, if it be good of its kind, and pro- 
 perly given, it is the most innocent and effectual, 
 whatever bugbear the world makes of it, especially 
 the tribe of inferior physicians, from whom it cuts 
 off so much business and gain.' We now con- 
 clude our notices of Locke's medical history 
 which, however imperfect, seem to us to warrant 
 our original assertion with the following weighty 
 sentence taken from the ' Fragment on Study'
 
 54 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 given by Lord King, and which was written when 
 Locke was at his studies at Oxford. It accords 
 curiously with what we have already quoted from 
 Dugald Stewart: 'Physic, polity, and prudence 
 are not capable of demonstration, but a man is 
 principally helped in them, i, By the history of 
 matter of fact ; and 2, By a sagacity of inquiring 
 into probable causes, and finding out an analogy in 
 their operations and effects. Whether a certain 
 course in public or private affairs will succeed well 
 whether rhubarb will purge, or quinquina cure 
 an ague, can be known only by experience.' l 
 
 SYDENHAM, the prince of practical physicians, whose 
 character is as beautiful and as genuinely English as 
 his name, did for his art what Locke did for the 
 
 1 The all -accomplished, and, in the old sense, 'the admir- 
 able' Dr. Thomas Young, puts this very powerfully in the 
 preface to his Introduction to Medical Literature. ' There is, 
 in fact, no study more difficult than that of physic : it exceeds, 
 as a science, the comprehension of the human mind ; and those 
 who blunder onwards, without attempting to understand what 
 they see, are often nearly on a level with those who depend too 
 much upon imperfect generalizations.' ' Some departments of 
 knowledge defy all attempts to subject them to any didactic 
 method, and require the exercise of a peculiar address, a judg- 
 ment, or a taste, "which can only be formed by indirect means. 
 It appears that physic is one of those departments in which 
 there is frequent necessity for the exercise of an incommunicable 
 faculty of judgment, and a sagacity which may be called tran- 
 scendental, as extending beyond the simple combination of all that 
 can be taught by precept?
 
 Locke and Sydenham. 55 
 
 philosophy of mind he made it, in the main, obser- 
 vational ; he made knowledge a means, not an end. 
 It would not be easy to over-estimate our obligations 
 as a nation to these two men, in regard to all that is 
 involved in the promotion of health of body and 
 soundness of mind. They were among the first in 
 their respective regions to show their faith in the in- 
 ductive method, by their works. They both pro- 
 fessed to be more of guides than critics, and were the 
 interpreters and servants of Nature, not her diviners 
 and tormentors. They pointed out a way, and them- 
 selves walked in it ; they taught a method, and used 
 it, rather than announced a system or a discovery; 
 they collected and arranged their visa before settling 
 their cogitata a mean-spirited proceeding, doubtless, 
 in the eyes of the prevailing dealers in hypotheses, 
 being in reality the exact reverse of their philosophy. 
 How curious, how humbling, to think that it was not 
 till this time, that men in search of truth were brought 
 to see that ' it is not the insufficiency or incapacity 
 of man's mind, but the remote standing or placing 
 thereof, that breedeth mazes and incomprehensions ; 
 for as the sense afar off is full of mistaking, but is 
 exact at hand, so is it of the understanding, the remedy 
 whereof is not to quicken or strengthen the organ, but to 
 go nearer to the object.' Well might this greatest of 
 Lord Chancellors now even say, as he does in the 
 context (he is treating of medicine) ' Medicine is a
 
 56 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 science which hath been more professed than laboured, 
 more laboured than advanced, the labour being in 
 my judgment more in a circle than in progression : I 
 find much iteration but small addition ;' and he was 
 right in laying much of this evil condition to the dis- 
 continuance of ' the ancient and serious diligence of 
 Hippocrates.' This serious diligence, this d/c/oi&i'a 
 or nicety of observation by which the ' divine old 
 man of Cos' achieved so much, was Sydenham' s 
 master-principle in practice and in speculation. He 
 proclaimed it anew, and displayed in his own case its 
 certain and inestimable fruits. 
 
 It appears to us one of the most interesting, as it 
 is certainly one of the most difficult and neglected 
 departments of medical literature, to endeavour to 
 trace the progress of medicine as a practical art, with 
 its rules and instruments, as distinguished from its 
 consolidation into a systematic science with its doc- 
 trines and laws, and to make out how far these two, 
 which conjoined form the philosophy of the subject, 
 have or have not harmonized with, and been helpful 
 to each other, at different periods of their histories. 
 Much might be done to make such an inquiry instruc- 
 tive and attractive, by marking out the history of 
 medicine into several great epochs, and taking, as 
 representative of each, some one distinguished arts- 
 man or practitioner, as well as teacher or discoverer. 
 We might have Hippocrates and his epoch, Syden-
 
 L ocke and Sydenham. 5 7 
 
 ham and his, John Hunter, Pinel, Laennec and theirs. 
 These great men differed certainly widely enough in 
 character and in circumstances, but agreed all in this, 
 their possessing in large measure, and of rare quality, 
 that native sagacity, that power of keen, serious, 
 choice, patient, continuous, honest observation, which 
 is at once a gift and a habit ; that instinct for seeking 
 and finding, which Bacon calls ' experientia literata, 
 sagacitas potius et odoratio qucedam venatica, quam 
 sciential that general strength and soundness of un- 
 derstanding, and that knack of being able to apply 
 their knowledge, instantly and aright, in practice, 
 which must ever constitute the cardinal virtues of 
 a great physician, the very pith and marrow of his 
 worth. 
 
 Of the two first of these famous men, we fear there 
 survives in the profession little more than the names; 
 and we receive from them, and are made wiser and 
 better by inheriting, their treasures of honest and ex- 
 quisite observation, of judicious experience, without, 
 we fear, knowing or caring much from whom it has 
 come. 'One man soweth, and another reapeth.' 
 The young forget the old, the children their fathers ; 
 and we are all too apt to reverse the saying of the 
 wise king, ' I praised the dead that are already 
 dead, more than the living th'at are yet alive.' 
 
 As we are not sufficiently conscious of, so we 
 assuredly are not adequately grateful for, that accu-
 
 58 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 mulated volume of knowledge, that body of practical 
 truth, which comes down as a heritage to each one 
 of us, from six thousand years of human endeavour ; 
 and which, like a mighty river, is moving for ever 
 onwards widening, deepening, strengthening, as it 
 goes ; for the right administration and use of whose 
 untold energies and wealth, we, to whom it has thus 
 far descended, are responsible to Him from whom it 
 comes, and to whom it is hastening responsible to 
 an extent we are too apt to forget, or to underrate. 
 We should not content ourselves with sailing victori- 
 ously down the stream, or with considering our portion 
 of it merely ; we should go up the country oftener 
 than we do, and see where the mighty feeders come 
 in, and learn and not forget their names, and note 
 how much more of volume, of momentum, and power, 
 the stream has after they have fallen in. 
 
 It is the lot of the successful medical practitioner, 
 who is more occupied with discerning diseases and 
 curing them, than with discoursing about their essence, 
 and arranging them into systems, who observes and 
 reflects in order to act rather than to speak, it is the 
 lot of such men to be invaluable when alive, and to 
 be forgotten soon after they are dead ; and this not 
 altogether or chiefly from any special ingratitude or 
 injustice on the part of mankind, but from the very 
 nature of the case. Much that made such a man 
 what the community to their highest profit found him
 
 Locke and Sydenham. 59 
 
 to be, dies, must die with him. His inborn gifts, and 
 much of what was most valuable in his experience, 
 were necessarily incommunicable to others, this de- 
 pending somewhat on his forgetting the process by 
 which, in particular cases, he made up his mind, and 
 its minute successive steps, from his eagerness to 
 possess and put in action the result, and likewise from 
 his being confident in the general soundness of his 
 method, and caring little about formally recording to 
 himself his transient mental conditions, much less 
 announcing them articulately to others ; but mainly, 
 we believe, because no man can explain directly to 
 another man how he does any one practical thing, 
 the doing of which he himself has accomplished, not 
 at once, or by imitation, or by teaching, but by re- 
 peated personal trials, by missing much, before ulti- 
 mately hitting. 
 
 You may be able to expound excellently to your 
 son the doctrines of gunnery, or read him a course of 
 lectures upon the principles of horsemanship, but you 
 cannot transfer to him your own knack as a dead- 
 shot, or make him keep his seat over a rasping fence. 
 He must take pains to win these for himself, as you 
 have done before him. Thus it is that much of the 
 best of a man like Sydenham, dies with him. 
 
 It is very different with those who frequent the 
 field of scientific discovery. Here matters are re- 
 versed. No man, for instance, in teaching anatomy
 
 60 Locke and Sydcnham. 
 
 or physiology, when he comes to enounce each new 
 subordinate discovery, can fail to unfold and to en- 
 hance the ever-increasing renown of that keen black- 
 a-vised little man, with his piercing eye, ' small and 
 dark, and so full of spirit / his compact broad fore- 
 head, his self-contained peremptory air, his dagger at 
 his side, and his fingers playing with its hilt, to whom 
 we owe the little book, De motu cordis et sanguinis 
 drculatione. This primary, capital discovery, which 
 no succeeding one can ever supersede or obscure, he 
 could leave consummate to mankind ; but he could 
 not so leave the secret of his making it ; he could not 
 transmit that combination of original genius, inven- 
 tion, exactness, perseverance, and judgment, which 
 enabled him, and can alone enable any man, to make 
 such a permanent addition to the fund of scientific 
 truth. But what fitted Harvey for that which he 
 achieved, greatly unfitted him for such excellence in 
 practice as Sydenham attained. He belonged to the 
 science more than to the art. His friend Aubrey 
 says of him, that ' though all his profession would 
 allow him to be an excellent anatomist, I have never 
 heard of any who admired his therapeutic way.' A 
 mind of his substance and mettle, speculative and 
 arbitrary, passing rapidly and passionately from the 
 particular to the general, from multiformity to unity, 
 with, moreover, a fiery temper and an extemporane- 
 ous dagger as its sting, was not likely to take kindly
 
 Locke and Sydenham. 01 
 
 to the details of practice, or make a very useful or 
 desirable family doctor. Sydenham, again, though 
 his works everywhere manifest that he was gifted with 
 ample capacity and keen relish for abstract truth, 
 moved habitually and by preference in the lower, but 
 at the time the usefuller sphere of everyday practice, 
 speculating chiefly in order to act, reducing his gene- 
 ralizations back to particulars, so as to answer some 
 immediate instance, the result of which was the 
 signallest success of ' his therapeutic way.' We have 
 had in our own day two similar examples of the man 
 of science and the man of art ; the one, Sir Charles 
 Bell like Harvey, the explorer, the discoverer, the 
 man of genius and science, of principles and laws, 
 having the royal gifts of invention and eloquence 
 was not equally endowed with those homelier, but in 
 their degree not less rare qualities, which made Dr. 
 Abercrombie, our Scottish Sydenham, what he was, 
 as a master in the diagnosis and treatment of disease. 
 The one pursued his profession as a science, to be 
 taught, to be transmitted in its entireness the other 
 as an art to be applied. The one was, in the old 
 phrase, luciferous ; the other frugiferous. 
 
 One great object we have in now bringing for- 
 ward the works and character of Sydenham, is to 
 enforce the primary necessity, especially in our day, 
 of attending to medicine as the art of healing, not 
 less than as the science of diseases and drugs. We
 
 62 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 want at present more of the first than of the second. 
 Our age is becoming every day more purely scien- 
 tific, and is occupied far more with arranging sub- 
 jects and giving names, and remembering them, than 
 with understanding and managing objects. There 
 is often more knowledge of words than of things. 
 
 We have already stated our notion, that to the 
 great body of modern physicians, Sydenham is little 
 more than a name, and that his works, still more 
 than those of his companion Locke, are more 
 spoken of than read. This is owing to several 
 causes ; partly to their being buried in Latin, which 
 men seem now-a-days ashamed to know: partly to 
 much in them being now scientifically obsolete and 
 useless ; partly from their practical value being im- 
 paired by our ignorance of his formulas of cure ; 
 and greatly also, we fear, from what Baglivi calls 
 ' an inept derision and neglect of the ancients,' 
 which is more prevalent than seemly. We include 
 ourselves among these ; for until we got Dr. Green- 
 hill's edition, we had never read seriously and 
 thoroughly these admirable tracts, which were all 
 of an occasional character, and were forced from 
 their author by the importunity of friends, or the 
 envious calumny of enemies, often in the form of 
 familiar letters. 
 
 We had, when at college, picked up like our 
 neighbours the owrrent commonplaces about Syden-
 
 Locke and Sydenham. 63 
 
 ham ; such as that he went by the name of ' the 
 Prince of English physicians;' that Boerhaave (of 
 whom by the way we knew quite as little, unless 
 it were a certain awful acquaintance with his ugly, 
 squab, and gilded visage, which regarded us grimly 
 from above a druggist's door, as we hurried along 
 the Bridges to the University) was wont to take 
 his hat off, whenever he mentioned his name, and 
 to call him ' Anglice lumen, Artis Phozbum, veram 
 Hippocratici veri speciem : ' that his life was written 
 by Samuel Johnson in the Gentleman's Magazine, 
 and was one of his earliest and worst paid perfor- 
 mances : that he was a Whig, and went into the 
 field as a Parliament man. Moreover, that when 
 asked by Sir Richard Blackmore what he would 
 advise him for medical reading, he replied, 'Read 
 Don Quixote, Sir,' an answer as full of sense as 
 wit, and the fitness and wisdom of which it would 
 be not less pleasant than profitable to unfold at 
 length. We had been told also, in a very general 
 way by our teachers, that Sydenham had done some 
 things for his profession, which, considering the dark 
 age in which he worked, were highly to his credit ; 
 that his name was well connected with the history 
 and management of the small-pox ; the nature of 
 epidemics, the constitutions of years, dropsies, etc., 
 and that he had recorded his own sufferings from 
 the gout in a clever and entertaining way.
 
 64 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 All this was true, but by no means the whole 
 truth. Not only are his observations invaluable to 
 any one engaged in tracing the history of medicine 
 as a practical art, and as an applied science ; in 
 marking in what respects it is changed, and in what 
 unchanged ; in how much it is better now than 
 then, and in what little it is not so good. In addi- 
 tion to all this, they are full of valuable rules for 
 the diagnosis and treatment of disease ; and we can 
 trace to him as their origin, many of our most com- 
 mon and important therapeutic doctrines. They 
 everywhere manifest how thoroughly he practised 
 what he taught, how honestly he used his own 
 ' method,' that of continued, close, serious obser- 
 vation. But we confess, after all, our chief delight 
 is from the discovery he makes in his works of his 
 personal character the exemplar he furnishes in 
 himself of the four qualities Hippocrates says are 
 indispensable in every good physician learning, 
 sagacity, humanity, probity. This personality gives 
 a constant charm to everything he writes, the 
 warmth of his large, humane, practical nature is 
 felt throughout. 
 
 Above all, we meet with a habitual reference to 
 what ought to be the supreme end of every man's 
 thoughts and energies the two main issues of all 
 his endeavours, the glory of God and the good of 
 men. Human life was to him a sacred, a divine,
 
 Locke and Sydenham. 65 
 
 as well as a curious thing, and he seems to have 
 possessed through life, in rare acuteness, that sense 
 of the value of what was at stake, of the perilous 
 material he had to work in, and that gentleness and 
 compassion for his suffering fellow-men, without 
 which no man be his intellect ever so transcen- 
 dent, his learning ever so vast, his industry ever so 
 accurate and inappeasable need hope to be a great 
 physician, much less a virtuous and honest man. 
 This characteristic is very striking. In the midst 
 of the most minute details, and the most purely 
 professional statements, he bursts out into some 
 abrupt acknowledgment of ' The Supreme Judge,' 
 ' The true Archiater and Archeus.' We may give 
 one among many such instances. He closes his 
 observations on The Epidemic Cough and Pleurisy 
 Peripncumony of 1675, w i tn this sudden allusion 
 to the Supreme Being : ' Qui post sequentur morbi, 
 solus novit, Qui novit omnia.' And again, after 
 giving his receipt for the preparation of his laudanum 
 liquidum, so much of Spanish wine, of opium, of 
 saffron, of cinnamon, and cloves, he adds, ' Pro- 
 fecto non hie mini tempero, quin gratulabundus 
 animadvertam, DEUAI omnipotentem TTO.VTWV Ao>r?)pa 
 eawi/ non aliud remedium, quod vel pluribus malis 
 debellandis par sit, vel eadem efficacius extirpet, 
 humano generi in miseriarum solatium concessisse, 
 quam opiata.'
 
 66 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 If we may adapt the simple but sublime saying 
 of Sir Isaac Newton, Sydenham, though diligent 
 beyond most other 'children' in gathering his 
 pebbles and shells on the shore of the great deep, 
 and in winning for mankind some things of worth 
 from the vast and formless infinite, was not uncon- 
 scious of the mighty presence beside which he was 
 at work ; he was not deaf to the strong music of 
 that illimitable sea. He recognised in the midst of 
 the known, a greater, an infinite, a divine unknown ; 
 behind everything certain and distinct, he beheld 
 something shadowy and unsearchable, past all find- 
 ing out ; and he did not, as many men of his class 
 have too often done, and still do, rest in the mere 
 contemplation and recognition of the TI fleibv. This 
 was to him but the shadow of the supreme sub- 
 stance, o 6cos. How unlike to this fervour, this 
 reverence and godly fear, is the hard, cool, noncha- 
 lant style of many of our modern men of science, 
 each of whom is so intent on his own little pebble, 
 so bent upon finding in it something no one else 
 ever found, so self-involved and self-sufficient, that 
 his eyes and his ears are alike shut to the splendours 
 and the voices the brooding darkness, and the 
 'look that threatens the profane' of the liberal 
 sea, from out whose abyss it has been flung, and 
 
 ' Which doth with its eternal motion make 
 A sound like thunder everlastingly.'
 
 Locke and Sydcnham. 67 
 
 . This habit of Sydenham's mind is strikingly shown 
 in the first sentence of his Preface to the first edition 
 of his Medical Observations : ' Qui medicinae dat 
 operarn, hsec secum ut ssepe perpendat oportet : 
 Primo, se de aegrorum vita ipsius curse commissa, 
 rationem aliquando SUPREMO JUDICI redditurum. 
 Deinde quicquid artis aut scientisa Divino beneficio 
 consecutus est, imprimis, ad SUMMI NUMINIS laudem, 
 atque humani generis salutem, esse dirigendum : 
 indignum autem esse, ut coelestia ilia dona, vel 
 avaritiae, vel ambitus officio inserviant Porro, se 
 non ignobilis alicujus aut contemnendi animalis 
 curam suscepisse; ut enim, humani generis pretium 
 agnoscas, UNIGENITUS DEI FILIUS, homo factus est 
 adeoque naturam assumptam sua dignatione nobili- 
 tavit. Denique, nee se communi sorte, exemptum 
 esse, sed iisdem legibus mortalitatis, iisdem casibus 
 et oerumnis, obnoxium atque expositum, quibus alii 
 quilibet ; quo diligentius et quidem teneriori cum 
 affectu, ipse plane o/zoioTra^s osgrotantibus opem 
 ferre conetur.' 
 
 When it is the free outcome of an earnest, sin- 
 cere, and ample nature, this sudden reference to 
 Divine things this involuntary Oh altitudo ! in 
 the midst of a purely technical exposition, has an 
 effect, and moves the hearer far beyond any mere 
 elaborate and foreseen argumentation. When a 
 youth is told beforehand what you mean to make
 
 68 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 him believe, and, above all, what you mean to 
 insist that he must feel you have much of him 
 against you. You should take him before he is 
 aware ; and, besides, if this burst of emotion is the 
 expression of an inward restraint, carried to its ut- 
 most, and then forced into utterance ; if the speaker 
 has resisted being moved, and is moved in spite of 
 himself, then is he surest to move those upon whom 
 he is acting. The full power of lightning is due to 
 speed and concentration you have it in the Teuto- 
 nic Blitz, gone as soon as come. 
 
 Such of our readers (a fast-lessening band !) as 
 were pupils of that remarkable man and first-rate 
 teacher, Dr. John Barclay, must remember well 
 his sudden bursts of this kind, made all the more 
 memorable, that he disliked formal moralizing upon 
 his favourite science. There was one occasion 
 when he never failed to break out. It was when 
 concluding his description of the bones of the skull. 
 His old pupils knew what was coming, the new 
 ones were set a wondering; all saw some sup- 
 pressed emotion working within him, his language 
 was more close and rapid ; that homely, sensible, 
 honest face, was eager with some unacknowledged 
 central feeling, and after finishing the Sella Turcica, 
 and the clinoid processes, he threw down the sphe- 
 noid bone, and the time being up, and his hand on 
 the open door of that well-known arena in which
 
 Locke and Sydenham. 69 
 
 he moved, he seemed as if leaving; indeed, we 
 believe he intended then to leave, when turning 
 round upon the class, with a face serious almost to 
 anger, and a voice trembling with feeling, he said, 
 ' Yes, gentlemen ! there is a God, omnipotent, 
 omniscient, and eternal] as he vanished under the 
 gallery into his room. Depend upon it, this single 
 sentence made a deeper impression on his hearers 
 than any more elaborate demonstration after the 
 manner of Paley. The ardent old man did not 
 linger among particulars, but passed at once, and 
 with a sort of passionate fervour, to the full abso- 
 lute assertion. 
 
 Two examples of these brief lightnings, which at 
 one flash ' unfold both earth and heaven,' occur to us 
 now. Dr. Dick, in his System of Theology, at the 
 close of his lecture on the Immensity and Omnipre- 
 sence of the Deity, pictures a man about to commit 
 some great sin, as shutting himself in his room, or 
 going into the depths of an unfrequented wood, so as 
 to get absolutely by himself, and then turning and 
 looking and looking again to make sure 'let him 
 turn and look again /' 
 
 And John Foster, in that intense bit of spiritual 
 vivisection, the Preface to Doddridge's Rise and Pro- 
 gress, when minuting the process of a step-by-step 
 descent into the deepest meditative wickedness and 
 impiety, the very ' superfluity of naughtiness,' repre-
 
 70 Locke and SydenJiain. 
 
 sents the person as speaking his last thought aloud, 
 and starting at his own voice, and his desperate sin, 
 and then exclaiming, ' If any one were within hear- 
 ing !' If any -one were within hearing! as if some 
 One had not all the while been within hearing. 
 
 The following are a few quotations, taken at random, 
 from Sydenham's various treatises and letters, in 
 which we may see what he himself was as a practi- 
 tioner, and what were his views as to the only way in 
 which Medicine, as an art, could be advanced. 
 
 In his Epistle to Dr. Mapletoft, prefixed to the 
 Observations Medico:, his first publication, when he 
 was forty-two years of age, he gives his friend a long 
 and entertaining account of his early professional life, 
 and thus proceeds : ' Having returned to London, I 
 began the practice of Medicine, which when I studied 
 curiously with most intent eye \intentoadmodumoculo] 
 and utmost diligence, I came to this conviction, 
 which to this day increases in strength, that our art 
 is not to be better learned than by its exercise and 
 use ; and that it is likely in every case to prove true, 
 that those who have directed their eyes and their 
 mind, the most accurately and diligently, to the 
 natural phenomena of diseases, will excel in eliciting 
 and applying the true indications of cure. With this 
 thread as my guide, I first applied my mind to a 
 closer observation of fevers, and after no small amount 
 of irksome waiting, and perplexing mental agitations,
 
 Locke and Sydenkam. 7 r 
 
 \vhich I had to endure for several years, I at last fell 
 upon a method by which, as I thought, they might be 
 cured, which method I some time ago made public, 
 at the urgent request of my friends.' 
 
 He then refers to the persecution and calumnies 
 he had been exposed to from the profession, who 
 looked upon him as a pestilent fellow, and a setter 
 forth of strange doctrines ; adopting the noble saying 
 of Titus Tacitus in reply to Metellus : ' Facile est 
 in me dicere, cum non sim responsurus ; tu didicisti 
 maledicere ; ego, conscientia teste, didici maledicta 
 contemnere. Si tu linguae tuse dominus es, et quic- 
 quid lubet effutias ; ego aurium mearum sum dominus, 
 ut quicquid obvenerit audiant inoffensae.' 1 It is easy 
 to speak against me when I make no reply ; you have 
 learned to speak evil ; I, my conscience bearing me 
 witness, have learned to despise evil speaking. You 
 are master of your tongue, and can make it utter 
 what you list ; I am master of my ears, and can make 
 them hear without being offended. 
 
 And, after making the reference we have already 
 
 1 Sydenham here quotes from memory, as Bacon, and many 
 other men of that time, whose minds were full of the classics, 
 often did, and none of the commentators have discovered the 
 exact passage. The remark is in Beyerlinck, Magn. Theatr, 
 Vit. Human., torn. vi. page 60, H. (Lugd. 1666, folio), referred 
 to by Dr. Greenhill. It is as follows : ' Tacitus Lucio Metello 
 ei in Senatu maledicenti respondit, " Facile est in me dicere, 
 quia non responsurus sum, potentia ergo tua, non mea patientia 
 est accusanda." ' Seneca is referred to by Beyerlinck.
 
 7 2 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 mentioned, to his method having had the sanction 
 and assistance of Locke, he thus concludes in regard 
 to the ultimate success of his newly discovered way, 
 'As concerns the future, I cast the die, not over- 
 careful how it may fall, for, since I am now no longer 
 young, and have, by the blessing of the Almighty, a 
 sufficient provision for the remainder of my journey 
 (tantum mihi est viatici, quantum restat vice), I will do 
 my best to attain, without trouble to myself or others, 
 that measure of happiness so beautifully depicted by 
 Politian : 
 
 " Felix ille animi, divisque simillimus ipsis, 
 Quern non mendaci resplendens gloria fuco 
 Sollicitat, non fastosi mala gaudia luxus. 
 Sed tacitos sinit ire dies, et panptre cultu 
 Exigit innoctue tranquilla silentia vita" ' 
 
 We shall now give more fully his peculiar views, 
 and in order to render him due honour for originat- 
 ing and acting upon them, we must remember in the 
 midst of what a mass of errors and prejudices, of 
 theories actively mischievous, he was placed, at a 
 time when the mania of hypothesis was at its height, 
 and when the practical part of his art was overrun 
 and stultified by vile and silly nostrums. We must 
 have all this in our mind, or we shall fail in estimat- 
 ing the amount of independent thought, of courage 
 and uprightness, and of all that deserves to be called 
 magnanimity and virtue, which was involved in his 
 thinking and writing and acting as he did.
 
 Locke and Sydenht 
 
 73 
 
 ' The improvement of physic, in my opinion, de- 
 pends, ist, Upon collecting as genuine and natural a 
 description or history of diseases as can be procured ; 
 and, 2tt, Upon laying down a fixed and complete 
 method of cure. With regard to the history of diseases, 
 whoever considers the undertaking deliberately will 
 perceive that a few such particulars must be attended 
 to : isf, All diseases should be described as objects 
 of natural history, with the same exactness as is done 
 by botanists, for there are many diseases that come 
 under the same genus and bear the same name, that, 
 being specifically different, require a different treat- 
 ment. The word carduus or thistle, is applied to 
 several herbs, and yet a botanist would be inaccurate 
 and imperfect who would content himself with a 
 generic description. Furthermore, when this distri- 
 bution of distempers into genera has been attempted, 
 it has been to fit into some hypothesis, and hence 
 this distribution is made to suit the bent of the author 
 rather than the real nature of the disorder. How 
 much this has obstructed the improvement of physic 
 any man may know. In writing, therefore, such a 
 natural history of diseases, every merely philosophical 
 hypothesis should be set aside, and the manifest and 
 natural phenomena, however minute, should be noted 
 with the utmost exactness. The usefulness of this 
 procedure cannot be easily overrated, as compared 
 with the subtle inquiries and trifling notions of modern
 
 74 Locke and Sydenkain. 
 
 writers ; for can there be a shorter, or indeed any 
 other way, of coming at the morbific causes, or of 
 discovering the curative indications, than by a certain 
 perception of the peculiar symptoms r \ By these steps 
 and helps it was that the father of physic, the great 
 Hippocrates, came to excel ; his theory (flew/Ha) being 
 no more than an exact description or view of Nature. 
 He found that Nature alone often terminates diseases, 
 and works a cure with a few simple medicines, and 
 often enough with no medicines at all. If only one 
 person in every age had accurately described, and 
 consistently cured, but a single disease, and made 
 known his secret, physic would not be where it now 
 is ; but we have long since forsook the ancient method 
 of cure, founded ripon the knowledge of conjunct causes, 
 insomuch that the art, as at this day practised, is 
 rather the art of talking about diseases than of curing 
 them. I make this digression in order to assert, that 
 the discovering and assigning of remote causes, which 
 now-a-days so much engrosses the minds and feeds 
 the vanity of curious inquirers, is an impossible at- 
 tempt, and that only immediate and conjunct causes 
 fall within the compass of our knowledge.' Or as he 
 elsewhere pithily states it : ' Cognitio nostra, in 
 rerum cortice, omnis ferme versatur, ac ad TO 6 sive 
 quod res hoc modo se habeat, fere tantum assurgit ; 
 TO Stem, sive rerum causas, nullatenus attingit.' 
 
 His friend Locke could not have stated the case
 
 Locke and Sydenham. 75 
 
 more clearly or sensibly. It is this doctrine of ' con- 
 junct causes,' this necessity for watching the action 
 of compound and often opposing forces, and the 
 having to do all this not in a machine, of which if 
 you have seen one, you have seen all, but where each 
 organism has often much that is different from, as 
 well as common with all others. Here you must 
 mend your watch while it is going, you must shoot 
 your game on the wing. It is this which takes medi- 
 cine out of the category of exact sciences, and puts 
 it into that which includes politics, ethics, navigation, 
 and practical engineering, in all of which, though 
 there are principles, and those principles quite within 
 the scope of human reason, yet the application of 
 these principles must, in the main, be left to each 
 man's skill, presence of mind, and judgment, as to 
 the case in hand. 
 
 It is in medicine as in the piloting of a ship rules 
 may be laid down, principles expounded, charts ex- 
 hibited ; but when a man has made himself master 
 of all these, he will often find his ship among breakers 
 and quicksands, and must at last have recourse to 
 his own craft and courage. Gaubius, in his admirable 
 chapter, De disciplina Medici, thus speaks of the 
 reasonable certainty of medicine as distinguished from 
 the absolute certainty of the exact sciences, and at 
 the same time gives a very just idea of the infinite 
 (as far as concerns our limited powers of sense and
 
 7 6 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 judgment) multiplicity of the phenomena of disease : 
 ' Nee vero sufficit medicum communia modo intueri ; 
 oportet et euiiris homini propria, quae quidem diversitas 
 tarn immensa occurrit ut nulla observationum vi ex- 
 hauriri possit. Sola denique contemplatione non 
 licet acquiescere, inque obscuris rebus suspendere 
 judicium, donee lux affulgeat. Actionemexigitoffidwn. 
 Captanda hinc agendi occasio, quiz sizpe prceceps, per 
 conjecturam cogit determinare, quod per scientiam sat 
 cito nequit. Audiant hsec obtrectatores, et cum 
 didicerint sdentias puras, ab iis quas applicatas vocant, 
 contemplativas a practids, distinguere, videant quo 
 jure medicinam pras aliis, ut omnis certi expertem, 
 infament.' 
 
 It would not be easy to put more important truth 
 into clearer expression. Conjecture, in its good 
 sense, as meaning the throwing together of a number 
 of the elements of judgment, and taking what upon 
 the whole is the most likely, and acting accordingly, 
 has, and will ever have, a main part to play in any 
 art that concerns human nature, in its entireness and 
 in action. When in obscure and dangerous places, 
 we must not contemplate, we must act, it may be on 
 the instant. This is what makes medicine so much 
 more of an art than a science, and dependent so 
 much more upon the agent than upon his instruc- 
 tions ; and this it is that makes us so earnest in our 
 cautions against the supposition that any amount of
 
 Locke and Sydenham. 77 
 
 scientific truth, the most accurate and extensive, can 
 in medicine supersede the necessity of the recipient 
 of all this knowledge having, as Richard Baxter says, 
 by nature ' a special sagacity, a naturally searching 
 and conjecturing turn of mind.' Moreover, this 
 faculty must be disciplined and exercised in its 
 proper function, by being not a hearer only, but also 
 a doer, an apprentice as well as a student, and by 
 being put under the tutorage of a master who exer- 
 cises as well as expounds his calling. 
 
 This native gift and its appropriate object have 
 been so justly, so beautifully described by Hartley 
 Coleridge in his Life of Fothergill, that we cannot 
 refrain from closing our remarks on this subject by 
 quoting his words. Do our readers know his Bio- 
 graphia Borealis ? If they do, they will agree with 
 us in placing it among the pleasantest books in our 
 language, just such a one as Plutarch, had he been 
 an Englishman, would have written : ' There are 
 certain inward gifts, more akin to genius than to 
 talent, which make the physician prosper, and de- 
 serve to prosper ; for medicine is not like practical 
 geometry, or the doctrine of projectiles, an applica- 
 tion of an abstract, demonstrable science, in which 
 a certain result may be infallibly drawn from certain 
 data, or in which the disturbing forces may be cal- 
 culated with scientific exactness. It is a tentative 
 art, to succeed in which demands a quickness of
 
 78 Locke and Sydcnham. 
 
 eye, thought, tact, invention, which are not to be 
 learned by study, nor, unless by connatural aptitude, 
 to be acquired by experience ; and it is the posses- 
 sion of this sense, exercised by a patient observation, 
 and fortified by a just reliance on the ins medicatrix, 
 the self-adjusting tendency of nature, that constitutes 
 the true physician or healer, as imagination consti- 
 tutes the poet, and brings it to pass, that sometimes 
 an old apothecary, not far removed from an old 
 woman, and whose ordinary conversation savours, it 
 may be, largely of twaddle, who can seldom give a 
 rational account of a case or its treatment, acquires, 
 and justly, a reputation for infallibility, while men of 
 talent and erudition are admired and neglected ; the 
 truth being, tJiat there is a great deal that is mysterious 
 in whatever is practical? 
 
 But to return to our author. He was the first to 
 point out what he called the varying ' constitutions' 
 of different years in relation to their respective 
 epidemics, and the importance of watching the type 
 of each new epidemic before settling the means of 
 cure. In none of his works is his philosophic spirit, 
 and the subtlety and clearness of his understanding, 
 shown more signally than in his successive histories 
 of the epidemics of his time. Nothing equal to them 
 has ever appeared since ; and the full importance of 
 the principles he was the first to lay down, is only 
 now beginning to be acknowledged. His confession
 
 Locke and Sydenham. 79 
 
 as to his entirely failing to discover what made one 
 epidemic so to differ from another, has been amply 
 confirmed by all succeeding observers. He says, 
 ' I have carefully examined the different constitutions 
 of different years as to the manifest qualities of the 
 air, yet I must own I have hitherto made no progress, 
 having found that years, perfectly agreeing as to their 
 temperature and other sensible properties, have pro- 
 duced very different tribes of diseases, and vice versa. 
 The matter seems to stand thus : there are certain 
 constitutions of years that owe their origin neither to 
 heat, cold, dryness, nor moisture, but upon a certain 
 secret and inexplicable alteration in the bowels of the 
 earth, whence the air becomes impregnated with 
 such kinds of effluvia as subject the human body to 
 distempers of a certain specific type.' 
 
 As to the early treatment of a new epidemic, he 
 says, ' My chief care, in the midst of so much 
 darkness and ignorance, is to wait a little, and pro- 
 ceed very slowly, especially in the use of powerful 
 remedies, in the meantime observing its nature and 
 procedure, and by what means the patient was re- 
 lieved or injured ;' and he concludes by regretting 
 the imperfection of his observations, and hoping that 
 they will assist in beginning a work that, in his judg- 
 ment, will greatly tend to the advantage of mankind. 
 Had his successors followed in his track with equal 
 sagacity and circumspection, our knowledge of these
 
 80 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 destructive and mysterious incursions of disease, 
 would, in all likelihood, have been greatly larger and 
 more practical than it is now. 
 
 .Sydenham is well known to have effected a revolu- 
 tion in the management of the small-pox, and to 
 have introduced a method of treatment upon which 
 no material improvement has since been made. We 
 owe the cool regimen to him. Speaking of the pro- 
 priety of attending to the wishes of the sufferer, he 
 says, with equal humanity and good sense, ' A per- 
 son in a burning fever desires to drink freely of some 
 small liquor ; but the rules of art, built upon some 
 hypothesis, having a different design in view, thwart 
 the desire, and instead thereof, order a cordial. In 
 the meantime the patient, not being suffered to drink 
 what he wishes, nauseates all kinds of food, but art 
 commands him to eat. Another, after a long illness, 
 begs hard, it may be, for something odd, or ques- 
 tionable ; here, again, impertinent art thwarts him 
 and threatens him with death. How much more 
 excellent the aphorism of Hippocrates " Such food 
 as is most grateful, though not so wholesome, is to 
 be preferred to that which is better, but distasteful." 
 Nor will this appear strange, if it be considered that 
 the all-wise Creator has formed the whole with such 
 exquisite order, that, as all the evils of nature emi- 
 nently conspire to complete the harmony of the whole 
 work, so every being is endowed with a Divine direc-
 
 Locke and Sydenham. 8 1 
 
 tion or instinct, which is interwoven with its proper 
 essence, and hence the safety of mankind was pro- 
 vided for, who, notwithstanding all our doctoring, 
 had been otherwise in a sad enough plight.' Again 
 ' He would be no honest and successful pilot who 
 were to apply himself with less industry to avoid 
 rocks and sands, and bring his vessel safely home, 
 than to search into the causes of the ebbing and the 
 flowing of the sea, which, though very well for a 
 philosopher, is foreign to him whose business it is to 
 secure the ship. So neither will a physician, whose 
 province it is to cure diseases, be able to do so, 
 though he be a person of great genius, who bestows 
 less time on the hidden and intricate method of 
 nature, and adapting his means thereto, than on 
 curious and subtle speculations.' 
 
 The following is frank enough : ' Indeed, if I 
 may speak my mind freely, I have been long of 
 opinion that I act the part of an honest man and a 
 good physician as often as I refrain entirely from 
 medicines, when, upon visiting the patient, I find him 
 no worse to-day than he was yesterday ; whereas, if I 
 attempt to cure the patient by a method of which 
 I am uncertain, he will be endangered both by the 
 experiment I am going to make on him and by the 
 disease itself; nor will he so easily escape two dangers 
 as one. 
 
 1 That practice, and that alone, will bring relief 
 
 F
 
 82 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 to the sufferer, which elicits the curative indications 
 from the phenomena of the diseases themselves, and 
 confirms them by experience, by which means the 
 great Hippocrates made himself immortal. And had 
 the art of medicine been delivered by any one in 
 this wise, though the cure of a disease or two might 
 come to be known to the common people, yet the 
 art in its full extent would then have required men 
 more prudent and skilful than it does now, nor would 
 it lose any of its credit ; for as there is in the opera- 
 tions of Nature (on the observations of which a true 
 medical praxis is founded) more of nicety and 
 subtlety than can be found in any art supported on 
 the most specious hypotheses, so the science of 
 Medicine which Nature teaches will exceed an ordi- 
 nary capacity in a much greater degree than that 
 which mere' philosophy teaches.' 
 
 There is much profound truth in this. Observa- 
 tion, in its strict sense, is not every man's gift, and 
 but few men's actual habit of mind. Newton used 
 to say, that if in any one way he differed from other 
 men, it was in his power of continued attention of 
 faithful, unbroken observation ; his ladder had all 
 its steps entire, and he went up with a composed, 
 orderly foot. It requires more strength and fineness 
 of mind, more of what deserves to be called genius, 
 to make a series of genuine observations in Medicine, 
 or any other art, than to spin any amount of nice
 
 Locke and Sydenham. 83 
 
 hypotheses, or build any number of ' castdla in aere,' 
 as Sydenham calls them. The observer's object 
 and it is no mean one is 
 
 ' To know ivhat 's what, and that 's as high 
 As Metaphysic wit can fly.' 
 
 Sydenham adds, ' Nor will the publication of such 
 observations diminish but rather increase the reputation 
 of our art, which, being rendered more difficult, as well 
 as more useful, only men of sagacity and keen sound 
 judgment would be admitted as physicians' How true 
 to the sayings of his great master in his Novum 
 Organum, ' Nature is only subdued by submission.' 
 ' The subtil ty of nature is far beyond that of sense, 
 or of the understanding, and the specious meditations 
 and theories of mankind are but a kind of insanity, 
 only there is no one to stand by and observe it !' 
 There is a very remarkable passage in Sydenham's 
 Treatise of the Dropsy, in which, after quoting this 
 curious passage from Hippocrates, ' Certain phy- 
 sicians and philosophers say that it is impossible for 
 any man to understand medicine without knowing 
 the internal structure of man ; for my part, I think 
 that what they have written or said of nature pertains 
 less to the medical than the pictorial art,' he asserts 
 not only his own strong conviction of the importance 
 of a knowledge of minute anatomy to the prac- 
 titioner, but also his opinion that what Hippocrates 
 meant, was to caution against depending too much
 
 84 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 on, and expecting too much help from anatomical 
 researches, to the superseding of the scrupulous 
 observation of living phenomena, of successive ac- 
 tions. 1 ' For in all diseases, acute and chronic, it 
 must be owned there is an inscrutable TI Oeiov, a 
 specific property which eludes the keenest anatomy.' 
 He then goes on to say, that as Hippocrates cen- 
 sured the abuse of anatomy, so in his own day, there 
 were many who, in like manner, raised hopes for 
 Physic from discoveries in Chemistry, which, in the 
 
 1 As far as the cure of diseases is concerned, Medicine has 
 more to do with human Dynamics than Statics, for whatever be 
 the essence of life and as yet this ri Oeiov, this nescimus qiiid 
 divinum, has defied all scrutiny it is made known to us chiefly 
 by certain activities or changes. It is the tendency at the pre- 
 sent time of medical research to reverse this order. Morbid 
 anatomy, microscopical investigations, though not confined to 
 states or conditions of parts, must regard them fully more than 
 actions and functions. This is probably what Stahl means 
 when he says, ' Ubi Physicus desinit, Mediais incipit ;' and in 
 the following passage of his rough Tudesque Latin, he plainly 
 alludes to the tendency, in his day, to dwell too much upon the 
 materials of the human body, without considering its actions 
 'utvivms.' 1 The passage is full of the subtilty and fire and 
 depth of that wonderful man. ' Undique hinc materiiz adver- 
 titur animus, et qute crassius in sensum impingit conformatio, 
 et mutua proportio corporea consideratur ; motuum ordo, vis, 
 et absoluta magis in materiam ener s ia, tempora ejus, gradus, 
 vices, maxime autem omnium, fines obiter in animum admit- 
 tuntur.' The human machine has been compared to a watch, 
 and some hope that in due time doctors will be as good at their 
 craft as watchmakers are at theirs ; but watchmakers are not 
 called on to mend their work while it is going ; this makes all 
 the difference.
 
 L ocke and Sydenham . 8 5 
 
 nature of things, never could be realized, and which 
 . only served to distract from the true Hippocratic 
 method of induction ' for the chief deficiency of 
 medicine is not a want of efficacious medicine. Who- 
 ever considers the matter thoroughly, will find that the 
 principal defect on the part of physic proceeds, not 
 from a scarcity of medicines to answer particular inten- 
 tions, but from the want of knowing the intentions to be 
 answered, for an apothecary's apprentice can tell me 
 what medicine will purge, vomit, or sweat, or cool ; 
 but a man must be conversant with practice who is 
 able to tell me when is the properest time for ad- 
 ministering any of them.' 
 
 He is constantly inculcating the necessity of getting 
 our diagnostic knowledge at first-hand, ridiculing 
 those descriptions of disease which the manufacturers 
 of ' Bodies of medicine,' ' Hand-books,' and such like, 
 make up in their studies, and which are often er compo- 
 sitions than portraits, or at the best bad copies, and 
 which the young student will find it hard enough to 
 identify in real life. There is too much of this we 
 fear still ; and Montaigne, who rejoices in having a 
 sly hit at his cronies the doctors, might still say with 
 some reason, ' Like him who paints the sea, rocks, 
 and heavens, and draws the model of a ship as he 
 sits safe at his table ; but send him to sea, and he 
 knows not how or where to steer ; so doctors often- 
 times make such a description of our maladies as a
 
 86 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 town-crier does of a lost dog or donkey, of such a 
 colour and height, such ears, etc. ; but bring the very 
 animal before him, and he knows it not for all that' 
 
 Everywhere our author acknowledges the vis medi- 
 catrix naturce, by which alone so many diseases are 
 cured, and without or against which none, and by 
 directing and helping which medicine best fulfils its 
 end, ' For I do not think it below me or my art to 
 acknowledge, with respect to the cure of fevers and 
 other distempers, that when no manifest indication 
 pointed out to me what should be done, I have con- 
 sulted my patient's safety and my own reputation, 
 most effectually, by doing nothing at all. But it is 
 much to be lamented that abundance of patients are 
 so ignorant as not to know, that it is sometimes as 
 much the part of a skilful physician to do nothing, 
 as at others to apply the most energetic remedies, 
 whence they not only deprive themselves of fair and 
 honourable treatment, but impute it to ignorance 
 or negligence.' 
 
 We conclude these extracts with a picturesque de- 
 scription. It is a case of ' the hysterics' in a man : 
 ' I was called not long since to an ingenious gentle- 
 man who had recovered from a fever, but a few days 
 before he had employed another physician, who 
 blooded and purged him soundly, and forbade him 
 the use of flesh. When I came I found him up, and 
 heard him talking sensibly. I asked why I was sent
 
 Locke and Sydenham. 87 
 
 for, to which one of his friends replied with a wink, 
 Wait and you'll see. Accordingly, sitting down and 
 entering into discourse with the patient, I perceived 
 his under lip was thrust outwards, and in frequent 
 motion, as happens to peevish children, who pout 
 before they cry, which was succeeded by the most 
 violent fit of crying, with deep convulsive sobs. I 
 conceived this was occasioned partly by his long 
 illness, partly by the previous evacuations, and partly 
 by emptiness ; / therefore ordered him a roast chicken, 
 and a pint of Canary.' Felix tile 1 
 
 His shrewdness and humour are shown in the 
 story Dr. Paris tells in his Pharmacologia. 
 
 ' This great physician, Sydenham, having long 
 attended a gentleman of fortune with little or no 
 advantage, frankly avowed his inability to render 
 him any further service, adding at the same time, 
 that there was a physician of the name of Robert- 
 son, at Inverness, who had distinguished himself by 
 the performance of many remarkable cures of the 
 same complaint as that under which his patient 
 laboured, and expressing a conviction that, if he 
 applied to him, he would come back cured. This 
 was too encouraging a proposal to be rejected ; the 
 gentleman received from Sydenham a statement of 
 his case, with the necessary letter of introduction, 
 and proceeded without delay to the place in ques- 
 tion. On arriving at Inverness, and anxiously
 
 88 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 inquiring for the residence of Dr. Robertson, he 
 found to his utter dismay and disappointment that 
 there was no physician of that name, nor ever had 
 been in the memory of any person there. The 
 gentleman returned, vowing eternal hostility to the 
 peace of Sydenham, and on his arrival at home, 
 instantly expressed his indignation at having been 
 sent on a journey of so many hundred miles for no 
 purpose. " Well," replies Sydenham, " are you 
 better in health?" " Yes, I am now quite well; but 
 no thanks to you." " No," says Sydenham, " but 
 you may thank Dr. Robertson for curing you. I 
 wished to send you a journey with some object of 
 interest in view; I knew it would be of service to 
 you ; in going, you had Dr. Robertson and his 
 wonderful cures in contemplation ; and in return- 
 ing, you were equally engaged in thinking of scold- 
 ing me.'" 
 
 In making these selections we have done our 
 author great injustice, partly from having to give 
 \hern either in Swan's translation or our own, and 
 thereby losing much of the dignity and nerve the 
 flavour, or what artists would call the crispness of 
 the original ; partly also from our being obliged to 
 exclude strictly professional discussions, in which, as 
 might be expected, his chief value and strength lie. 
 
 We know nothing in medical literature more 
 finished than his letter to Dr. Cole on the hysteri-
 
 Locke and Sydenham. 89 
 
 cal passion, and his monograph of the gout. Well 
 might Edward Hannes, the friend of Addison, in his 
 verses on Sydenham, thus sing : 
 
 ' Sic te scientem non faciunt libri 
 Et dogma pulchrum ; sed sapientia 
 Enata rebus, mensque facti 
 Experiens, animusque felix.' 
 
 It would not be easy to over-estimate the perma- 
 nent impression for good, which the 'writings, the 
 character, and the practice of Sydenham have made 
 on the art of healing in England, and on the Conti- 
 nent generally. In the writings of Boerhaave, Stahl, 
 Gaubius, Pinel, Bordeu, Haller, and many others, he 
 is spoken of as the father of rational medicine ; as 
 the first man who applied to his profession the Ba- 
 conian principles of interpreting and serving nature, 
 and who never forgot the master's rule, ' Non fin- 
 gendum aut excogitandum, sed inveniendum, quid 
 natura aut faciat aut ferat.' He was what Plato 
 would have called an ' artsmanj as distinguished 
 from a doctor of abstract science. But he was by 
 no means deficient in either the capacity or the 
 relish for speculative truth. Like all men of a large 
 practical nature, he could not have been what he 
 was, or done what he did, without possessing and 
 often exercising the true philosophizing faculty. He 
 was a man of the same quality of mind in this re- 
 spect with Watt, Franklin, and John Hunter, in
 
 go Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 whom speculation was not the less genuine that it 
 was with them a means rather than an end. 
 
 This distinction between the science and the art or 
 craft, or as it was often called the cunning of medi- 
 cine, is one we have already insisted upon, and the 
 importance of which we consider very great, in the 
 present condition of this department of knowledge 
 and practice. We are now-a-days in danger of ne- 
 glecting our art in mastering our science, though 
 medicine in its ultimate resort must always be more 
 of an art than of a science. It being the object of 
 the student of physic to learn or know some thing 
 or things, in order to be able safely, effectually and 
 at once, to do some other thing; and inasmuch as 
 human nature cannot contain more than its fill, a 
 man may not only have in his head much scientific 
 truth which is useless, but it may shut out and 
 hinder and render altogether ineffectual, the active, 
 practical, workmanlike faculties, for whose use his 
 knowledge was primarily got. It is the remark of a 
 profound thinker, that ' all professional men labour 
 under a great disadvantage in not being allowed to be 
 ignorant of what is useless ; every one fancies that he 
 is bound to receive and transmit whatever is believed 
 to have been known.' 
 
 ' It appears to be possible,' says Dr. Thomas 
 Young, in his Life of Parson, ( that a memory may in 
 itself be even too retentive for real practical utility,
 
 Locke and Sydenham, 9 1 
 
 as if of too microscopic a nature ; and it seems to 
 be by a wise and benevolent, though by no means 
 an obvious arrangement of a Creative Providence, 
 that a certain degree of oblivion becomes a most useful 
 instrument in the advancement of human knowledge, 
 enabling us readily to look back on the prominent 
 features only of various objects and occurrences, and 
 to class them, and reason upon them, by the help of 
 this involuntary kind of abstraction and generaliza- 
 tion, with incomparably greater facility than we could 
 do if we retained the whole detail of what had been 
 once but slightly impressed on our minds. It is thus, 
 for example, in physic, that the experienced practi- 
 tioner learns at length to despise the relation of in- 
 dividual symptoms and particular cases, on which 
 alone the empiric insists, and to feel the value of 
 the Hippocratic system of " attending more to the 
 prognostic than the diagnostic features of disease ;" 
 which, to a younger student, appears to be perfect 
 imbecility.' 
 
 This subject of art and science is hinted at, with 
 his usual sagacity, by Plato, in a singular passage in 
 his Theaetetus : ' Particulars,' he says, ' are infinite, 
 and the higher generalities give no sufficient direc- 
 tion in medicine ; but the pith of all sciences, that 
 which makes the artsman differ from the inexpert, is 
 in the middle propositions, which, in every particular 
 knowledge, are taken from tradition and inexperi-
 
 92 Locke and Sydenkam. 
 
 ence.' 1 It would not be easy to convey in fewer 
 words, more of what deserves the name of the philo- 
 sophy of this entire subject, and few things would 
 be more for the advantage of the best interests of 
 all arts and sciences, and all true progress in human 
 knowledge and power, than the taking this passage 
 and treating it exegetically, as a divine would say, 
 bringing out fully its meaning, and illustrating it 
 by examples. Scientific truth is to the mind of a 
 physician what food is to his body ; but, in order to 
 his mind being nourished and growing by this food, 
 it must be assimilated it must undergo a vital in- 
 ternal change must be transformed, transmuted, and 
 lose its original form. This destruction of former 
 identity this losing of itself in being received into 
 the general mass of truth is necessary in order to 
 
 1 Being anxious to see what was the context of this remark- 
 able passage, which Bacon quotes, as if verbatim, in his Advance- 
 ment of Learning, we hunted through the Thesetetus, but in vain. 
 We set two friends, throughbred Grecians, upon the scent, but 
 they could find no such passage. One of them then spoke to 
 Sir William Hamilton, and he told him that he had marked 
 that passage as not being a literal translation of any sentence in 
 Plato's writings. He considered it a quotation from memory, 
 and as giving the substance of a passage in the Philebus, which 
 occurs in the 6th and 7th of the forty-two sections of that Dia- 
 logue. Perhaps the sentence which comes nearest to the words 
 of Bacon is the last in the 6th section, beginning with the words 
 ol. 5 vvv T&V &v6p<j)ir&v cr&fpot. To. 5 fj-tcra avrovs K<pe<jyfi, of 
 which he speaks, seem to be equivalent to ' the middle propo- 
 sitions.'
 
 Locke and Sydenham. 93 
 
 bring abstract truth into the condition of what Plato 
 calls ' the middle propositions,' or, as Mr. Mill calls 
 them, the generalia of knowledge. 1 These are such 
 truths as have been appropriated, and vitally adopted, 
 by the mind, and which, to use Bacon's strong words, 
 have been ' drenched in flesh and blood,' have been 
 turned ' in succum et sanguinem;' for man's mind 
 cannot, any more than his body, live on mere ele- 
 mentary substances ; he must have fat, albumen, 
 and sugar ; he can make nothing of their elements, 
 bare carbon, azote, or hydrogen. And more than 
 this, as we have said, he must digest and disintegrate 
 
 1 The following we give as a sort of abstract of a valuable 
 chapter in Mill's Logic on ' The Logic of Art :' An art, or a 
 body of art, consists of rules, together with as much of the 
 speculative propositions as comprises the justification of those 
 rules. Art selects and arranges the truths of science in the 
 most convenient order for practice, instead of the order most 
 convenient for thought science following one cause to its 
 various effects, while art traces one effect to its multiplied and 
 diversified causes and conditions. There is need of a set of in- 
 termediate scientific truths, derived from the higher generalities of 
 science, and destined to serve as the generalia or first principles 
 of art. The art proposes for itself an end to be gained, defines 
 the end, and hands it over to science. Science receives it, studies 
 it as a phenomenon or effect, and having investigated its causes 
 and conditions, sends it back to art, with a rationale of its cause 
 or causes, but nothing more. Art then examines their combin- 
 ations, and according as any of them are or are not in human 
 power, or within the scope of its particular end, pronounces 
 upon their utility, and forms a rule of action. The rules of art 
 do not attempt to comprise more conditions than require to be 
 attended to in ordinary cases, and therefore are always imperfect.
 
 94 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 his food before it can be of any use to him. In this 
 view, as in another and a higher, we may use the 
 sacred words, ' That which thou sowest is not 
 quickened except it die ; except a corn of wheat fall 
 into the ground and die, it abideth alone ; but if it 
 die, it bringeth forth much fruit ;' for, as it is a law 
 of vegetable life, that a seed does not begin to pass 
 into a new form, does not begin to grow into a plant, 
 until its own nature is changed, and its original con- 
 dition is broken up, until it ' dies ' in giving birth to 
 something better, so is it with scientific truth, taken 
 into or planted in the mind, it must die, else it 
 abides alone it does not germinate. 
 
 Had Plato lived now, he might well have said, 
 ' particulars are infinite.' Facts, as such, are merely 
 so many units, and are often rather an encumbrance 
 to the practical man than otherwise. These ' middle 
 propositions' stand mid-way between the facts in 
 their infinity and speculative truth in its abstract in- 
 ertness; they take from both what they need, and 
 they form a tertium quid, upon which the mind can 
 act practically, and reason upon in practice, and 
 form rules of action. 1 Sydenham, Hippocrates, Aber- 
 
 1 Locke thus puts it : ' As a help to this, I think it may be 
 proposed that, for the saving the long progression of the thoughts 
 to remote and first principles in every case, the mind should pro- 
 vide itself several stages ; that is to say, intermediate principles, 
 which it might have recourse to in the examining those positions 
 that come in its way. These, though they are not self-evident
 
 L ocke and Sydenham. 9 5 
 
 nethy, Pott, Hunter, Baillie, Abercrombie, and such 
 like, among physicians, are great in the region of 
 the ' middle propositions' They selected their par- 
 ticulars their instances, and they made their higher 
 generalities come down, they appropriated them, and 
 turned them into blood, bone, and sinew. 
 
 The great problem in the education of young men 
 for the practice of medicine in our times, is to know 
 how to make the infinity of particulars, the prodigi- 
 ous treasures of mere science, available for practice 
 how the art may keep pace with, and take the maxi- 
 mum of good out of the science. We have often 
 thought that the apprenticeship system is going too 
 much into disrepute. It had its manifest and great 
 evils; but there was much good got by it that is not 
 
 principles, yet if they have been made out from them by a wary 
 and unquestionable deduction, may be depended on as certain 
 and infallible truths, and serve as unquestionable truths to prove 
 other points depending on them by a nearer and shorter view 
 than remote and general maxims. These may serve as land- 
 marks to show what lies in the direct way of truth, or is quite 
 besides it. ... Only in other sciences great care is to be 
 taken that they establish those intermediate principles with as 
 much caution, exactness, and indifferency, as mathematicians 
 use in the settling any of their great theorems. When this is 
 not done, but men take up the principles in this or that science 
 upon credit, inclination, interest, etc., in haste, without due 
 examination and most unquestionable proof, they lay a trap for 
 themselves, and as much as in them lies captivate their under- 
 standings to mistake, falsehood, and error.' Of the Conduct of 
 the Understanding, pp. 53, 54. London, 1859.
 
 96 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 to be got in any other way. The personal authority 
 and attachment, the imitation of their master the 
 watching his doings, and picking up the odds and 
 ends of his experience the coming under the in- 
 fluence of his mind, following in his steps, looking 
 with his eyes, and unconsciously accumulating a 
 stock of knowledge, multifarious it might be, the 
 good of which was not fully known till after-years 
 explained and confirmed its worth. There were 
 other practical things besides jokes learned and 
 executed in the apprentices' room, and there were 
 the friendships for life, on which so much, not merely 
 of the comfort, but the progress of a physician de- 
 pends. Now, everything, at least most, is done in 
 public, in classes ; and it is necessarily with .the 
 names of things rather than the things themselves, 
 or their management, that the young men have 
 chiefly to do. The memory 1 is exercised more 
 
 1 Professor Syme, in his Letter to Sir James Graham on the 
 Medical Bill, in which, in twelve pages, he puts the whole of this 
 tiresome question on its true footing, makes these weighty ob- 
 servations : ' As a teacher of nearly twenty-five years' standing, 
 and well acquainted with the dispositions, habits, and powers of 
 medical students, I beg to remark, that the system of repeated 
 examinations on the same subject by different Boards, espe- 
 cially if protracted beyond the age of twenty two, is greatly 
 opposed to the acquisition of sound and useful knowledge. 
 Medicine, throughout all its departments, is a science of obser- 
 vation ; memory alone, however retentive, or diligently assisted 
 by teaching, is unable to afford the qualifications for practice,
 
 Locke and Sy den ham. 97 
 
 than the senses or the judgment ; and when the 
 examination comes, as a matter of course the student 
 returns back to his teacher as much as possible of 
 what he has received from him, and as much as pos- 
 sible in his very words. He goes over innumerable 
 names. There is little opportunity even in anatomy 
 for testing his power or his skill as a workman, as an 
 independent observer and judge, under what Sir 
 James Clark justly calls ' the demoralizing system of 
 cramming? He repeats what is already known ; he 
 is not able to say how all or any of this knowledge 
 may be turned to practical account. Epictetus 
 cleverly illustrates this very system and its fruits : 
 ' As if sheep, after they have been feeding, should 
 present their shepherds with the very grass itself 
 which they had cropped and siuallowed, to show how 
 much they had eaten, instead of concocting it into wool 
 and milk? 
 
 and it is only by digesting the facts learned, through reflection, 
 comparison, and personal research, that they can be appropri- 
 ated with improving effect ; but when the mind is loaded with 
 the minutiae of elementary medical and collateral study, it is in- 
 capable of the intense and devoted attention essential to attaining 
 any approach to excellence in practical medicine and surgery. 
 It has accordingly always appeared to me, that the character of 
 medical men depends less upon what passes diiring the period even 
 of studentship than upon the mode in which they spend the next 
 years, when, their trials and examinations being over, the whole 
 strength of a young and disciplined intellect may be preparing 
 itself for the business of life.'
 
 98 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 Men of the 'middle propositions' are not clever, 
 glib expounders of their reasons ; they prefer doing 
 a thing to speaking about it, or how it may be done. 
 We remember hearing a young doctor relate how, on 
 one occasion when a student, he met with the late 
 Dr. Abercrombie, when visiting a man who was 
 labouring under what was considered malignant 
 disease of the stomach. He was present when that 
 excellent man first saw the patient along with his 
 regular attendant. The doctor walked into the room 
 in his odd, rapid, indifferent way, which many must 
 recollect ; scrutinized all the curiosities on the 
 mantlepiece ; and then, as if by chance, found him- 
 self at his patient's bedside ; but when there his eye 
 settled upon him intensely ; his whole mind was 
 busily at work. He asked a few plain questions ; 
 spoke with great kindness, but briefly ; and, coming 
 back to consult, he said, to the astonishment of the 
 surgeon and the young student, ' The mischief is all 
 in the brain, the stomach is affected merely through 
 it. The case will do no good ; he will get blind and 
 convulsed, and die.' He then, in his considerate, 
 simple way, went over what might be done to palli- 
 ate suffering and prolong life. He was right. The 
 man died as he said, and on examination the brain 
 was found softened, the stomach sound. The young 
 student, who was intimate with Dr. Abercrombie, 
 ventured to ask him what it was in the look of the
 
 Locke and Sydenham. 99 
 
 man that made him know at once. ' I can't tell you, 
 I can hardly tell myself; but I rest with confidence 
 upon the exactness and honesty of my past observa- 
 tions. I remember the result, and act upon it ; but 
 I can't put you, or, without infinite trouble, myself, 
 in possession of all the steps.' 'But would it not be 
 a great saving if you could tell others?' said the 
 young doctor. ' // would be no such thing; it would 
 be the worst thing that could happen to you; you would 
 not know how to use it You must follow in the 
 same road, and you will get as far, and much farther. 
 You must miss often before you hit You can't tell 
 a man how to hit ; you may tell him what to aim at.' 
 ' Was it something in the eye T said his inveterate 
 querist ' Perhaps it was,' he said good-naturedly ; 
 ' but don't you go and blister every man's occiput, 
 whose eyes are, as you think, like his.' 1 
 
 1 This is very clearly stated by Dr. Mandeville, the acute and 
 notorious author of the Fable of the Bees, in his Dialogues OH 
 the Hypochondria, one of his best works, as full of good sense 
 and learning as of wit. ' If you please to consider that there 
 are no words in any language for an hundredth part of all the 
 minute differences that are obvious to the skilful, you will soon 
 find that a man may know a thing perfectly well, and at the 
 same time not be able to tell you why or how he knows it. The 
 practical knowledge of a physician, or at least the most consider- 
 able part of it, is the result of a large collection of observations 
 that have been made on the minutiae of things in human bodies 
 in health and sickness ; but likewise there are such changes and 
 differences in these minutiae as no language can express : and 
 when a man has no other reason for what he does than the
 
 ioo Locke and Sydeiihaui. 
 
 It would be well for the community, and for the 
 real good of the profession, if the ripe experience, 
 the occasional observations of such men as Syden- 
 ham and Abercrombie formed the main amount of 
 medical books, instead of Vade-Mecums, Compen- 
 diums, and Systems, on the one hand, and the ardent 
 but unripe lucubrations of very young men. 
 
 It is said that facts are what we want, and every 
 periodical is filled with papers by very young physi- 
 cians made up of practical facts. What is fact ? we 
 would ask ; and are not many of our new facts little 
 else than the opinions of the writers about certain 
 phenomena, the reality, and assuredly the importance 
 of which, is by no means made out so strongly as the 
 opinions about them are stated? 1 In this intensely 
 scientific age, we need some wise heads to tell us 
 what not to learn or to unlearn, fully as much as 
 what to learn. Let us by all means avail ourselves 
 of the unmatched advantages of modern, science, and 
 
 judgment he has formed from such observations, it is impossible 
 he can give you the one without the other that is, he can never 
 explain his reasons to you, unless he could communicate to you 
 that collection of observations of which his skill is the product.' 1 
 
 1 Louis, in the preface to the first edition of his Researches 
 on Phthisis, says ' Few persons are free from delusive men- 
 tal tendencies, especially in youth, interfering with true obser- 
 vation ; and I am of opinion that, generally speaking, we ought 
 to place less reliance on cases collected by very young men ; and, 
 above all, not intrust the task of accumulating' fads to them ex- 
 clusively. '
 
 L ocke and Sydenham . i o i 
 
 of the discoveries which every day is multiplying 
 with a rapidity which confounds ; let us convey into, 
 and carry in our heads as much as we safely can, of 
 new knowledge from Chemistry, Statistics, the Micro- 
 scope, the Stethoscope, and all new helps and 
 methods ; but let us go on with the old serious diligence, 
 the expcrientia as well as the experimenta the 
 forging, and directing, and qualifying the mind as 
 well as the furnishing, informing, and what is called 
 accomplishing it. Let us, in the midst of all the 
 wealth pouring in from without, keep our senses and 
 our understandings well exercised on immediate work. 
 Let us look with our own eyes, and feel with our own 
 fingers. 1 
 
 1 We all know Cullen's pithy saying, that there are more 
 false facts than theories in medicine. In his Treatise on the 
 Materia Medica, which was given to the world when its author 
 was in his seventy-seventh year, we came upon the full state- 
 ment of the many mistakes and untruths which are drawn from 
 ' false experience.' These he divides into eight classes : 
 
 1st, In respect to those supposed remedies, which, from their 
 nature, and their being placed at a distance from the human 
 body, cannot be supposed to have any action upon it. Such 
 are charms, inodorous amulets, sympathetic powders, etc. 
 
 2(f, Another instance of false experience is with respect to the 
 virtues imputed to substances which, when taken into the body, 
 pass through it unchanged, such as mountain crystal, gems, and 
 precious stones, which formerly had a place in our dispensatories. 
 
 3</, Whenever to substances obviously inert, or such as have 
 little power of changing the human body, we find considerable 
 effects imputed. Thus when the excellent Linnaeus tel's us he 
 preserved himself from gout by eating every year plentifully of
 
 IO2 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 One natural consequence of the predominance in 
 our days of the merely scientific element, is, that the 
 elder too much serves the younger. The young man 
 teaches and talks, and the old man learns and is 
 
 strawberries ! (Here we suspect the Swede was wiser and 
 righter than the Scot.) 
 
 Afh, When medicines are said to cure what we have no 
 evidence ever existed. As when Dr. Boerhaave says certain 
 medicines correct an atrabilis, a condition he nowhere proves 
 the existence of. 
 
 The 5//& refers to solvents of the stone taken by the mouth, to 
 many emmenagogues and diuretics. 
 
 The 6th, where effects that do really take place are im- 
 puted to medicines employed, when they are due to the spon- 
 taneous operations of the animal economy, or of nature, as we 
 commonly speak ; and he instances the vegetables mentioned in 
 the Materia Medica as Vulneraries. 
 
 The *]th and Sf/i are instances of false experience from mis- 
 takes concerning the real nature of the disease treated, and of 
 the drug employed. It is curious to us who are seventy years 
 older, and it may be wiser (in the main) to note how perma- 
 nently true much of this still is, and how oddly and significantly 
 illustrative of the very fallacies classified by himself, is the little 
 that is not true. 
 
 Then follows what we had chiefly in view in this quotation. 
 Dr. Cullen, after stating that these false experiences of writers 
 upon the Materia Medica were mistakes of judgment, and not 
 made under any consciousness of falsehood, reprobates with 
 much severity the manufacture of facts in medicine, which have, 
 for reasons of various kinds, been obtruded on the public by 
 persons aware of their being false, or which, at least, they have 
 never proved to be true; and he ends with this remarkable 
 statement, the moral of which is not peculiar to 1789 : ' This 
 leads me to observe, that a very fertile source of false facts has 
 been opened for some time past. There is in some young phy- 
 sicians the vanity of being the authors of observations, which
 
 Locke and Sydenham. 103 
 
 mute. 1 This is excellent when it is confined to the 
 statement of discovery, or the constantly evolving 
 laws of knowledge, or of matter. But the young 
 men have now almost the whole field to themselves. 
 Chemistry and Physiology have become, to all men 
 above forty, impossible sciences ; they dare not 
 meddle with them ; and they keep back from giving 
 to the profession their own personal experience in 
 matters of practice, from the feeling that much of 
 their science is out of date ; and the consequence is, 
 that, even in matters of practice, the young men are 
 in possession of the field. Fruit is pleasantest and 
 every way best when it is ripe ; and practical observa- 
 tion, to be worth anything, must be more of a fruit 
 than a blossom, and need not be plucked when green. 
 ' Plutarch,' says old Heberden, ' has told us that 
 the life of a vestal virgin was divided into three por- 
 tions : in the first she learned the duties of her pro- 
 fession, in the second she practised them, and in the 
 third she taught them to others.' This he main- 
 tained, and we cordially agree with him, was no bad 
 model for the life of a physician, and he followed it 
 
 are often too hastily made, and sometimes perhaps entirely dressed 
 in the closet. We dare not at present be too particular, but the 
 next age will discern many instances of perhaps the direct false- 
 hoods, and certainly the many mistakes in fact, produced in the 
 present age concerning the powers and virtues of medicine. ' 
 Treatise on the Materia Medico, chap. ii. article iv. pp. 142-153. 
 1 See Note B.
 
 104 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 himself, as shown by his motto prefixed to his Clas- 
 sical Commentaries, Fe/xov KGU /ca/^veiv OUKCTI Swa- 
 
 George filius may explain to the admiring George 
 pater, the merits and arcana of his Prichett rifle, 
 or his Deane and Adams' revolver, any scientific 
 improvement the youngster may teach his 'governor,' 
 but don't let him go further, and take to giving him 
 instructions in the art of finding and bagging his 
 game. This is exactly where we are so apt to go 
 wrong in medicine, as well as in fowling. 
 
 Let it not be supposed that we despair of Medicine 
 gaining the full benefit of the general advance in 
 knowledge and usefulness. Far from it. We believe 
 there is more of exact diagnosis, of intelligent, effec- 
 tual treatment of disease, that there are wider views 
 of principles directer, ampler methods of discovery, 
 at this moment in Britain than at any former time ; 
 and we have no doubt that the augmentation is still 
 proceeding, and will defy all calculation. But we 
 are likewise of opinion, that the office of a physician, 
 in the highest sense, will become fully more difficult 
 than before, will require a greater compass and 
 energy of mind, as working in a wider field, and 
 using finer weapons ; and that there never was more 
 necessity for making every effort to strengthen and 
 clarify the judgment and the senses by inward dis- 
 cipline, and by outward exercise, than when the
 
 Locke and Sydenham. 105 
 
 importance and the multitude of the objects of which 
 they must be cognisant, are so infinitely increased. 
 The middle propositions must be attended to, and 
 filled up as the particulars and the higher generali- 
 ties crowd in. 
 
 It would be out of place in a paper so desultory 
 as the present, to enter at large upon the subjects 
 now hinted at the education of a physician the 
 degree of certainty in medicine its progress and 
 prospects, and the beneficial effects it may reason- 
 ably expect from the advance of the purer sciences. 
 But we are not more firmly persuaded of anything 
 than of the importance of such an inquiry, made 
 largely, liberally, and strictly, by a man at once 
 deep, truthful, knowing, and clear. How are we 
 to secure for the art of discerning, curing, and 
 preventing disease, the maximum of good and the 
 minimum of mischief, in availing ourselves of the 
 newest discoveries in human knowledge ? 
 
 To any one wishing to look into this most inter- 
 esting, and at the present time, vital question, we 
 would recommend a paper by Dr. Sellar, admirable 
 equally in substance and in expression, entitled, 
 ' On the signification of Fact in Medicine, and on 
 the hurtful effects of the incautious use of such 
 modern sources of fact as the microscope, the 
 stethoscope, chemical analysis, statistics, etc. ;' it 
 may be found in No. 177 of the Edinburgh Medical
 
 io6 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 and Surgical Journal. We merely give a sample 
 or two, in which our readers will find, in better 
 words, much of what we have already asserted. 
 ' Medicine still is, and must continue for ages to fa, 
 an empirico-rationalism? ' A sober thinker can 
 hardly venture to look forward to such an advanced 
 state of chemical rationalism as would be sufficient 
 for pronouncing a priori that sulphur would cure 
 scabies, iodine goitre, citric acid the scurvy, or 
 carbonate of iron neuralgia. 1 ' Chemistry promises 
 to be of immediate service in the practice of medi- 
 cine, not so much by offering us a rational chemical 
 pathology, but by enlarging the sources from which 
 our empirical rules are to be drawn.' Here we have 
 our 'middle propositions.' 'The great bulk of 
 practical medical knowledge is obviously the fruit of 
 individual minds, naturally gifted for excellence in 
 medicine;' but the whole paper deserves serious 
 continuous study. We would also, in spite of some 
 ultraisms in thought and language, the overflowings 
 of a more than ordinarily strong, and ardent, and 
 honest mind, recommend heartily the papers of Dr. 
 Forbes, which appeared at the close of the British 
 and Foreign Medical Review, in which he has, with 
 what we cannot call else or less than magnanimity, 
 spoken so much wholesome, though, it may be, 
 unpalatable truth ; and, finally, we would send every 
 inquiring student who wishes to know how to think
 
 Locke and Sydenham. 107 
 
 and how to speak on this subject at once with power, 
 clearness, and compactness, and be both witty and 
 wise, to Dr. Latham's little three volumes on Clini- 
 cal Medicine. The first two lectures in the earliest 
 volume are 'lion's marrow,' the very pith of sense 
 and sound-mindedness. We give a morsel 'The 
 medical men of England do and will continue to 
 keep pace with the age in which they live, however 
 rapidly it may advance. I wish to see physicians 
 still instituted in the same discipline, and still reared 
 in fellowship and communion with the wisest and 
 best of men, and that not for the sake of what is 
 ornamental merely, and becoming to their charac- 
 ter, but because I am persuaded that that discipline 
 which renders the mind most capacious of wisdom 
 and most capable of virtue, can hold the torch and 
 light the path to the sublimest discoveries in every 
 science. It was the same discipline which contributed 
 to form the minds of Newton and of Locke, of Harvey 
 and of Syden/iain.' 
 
 He makes the following beautiful remark in leading 
 his pupils into the wards of St. Bartholomew's : ' In 
 entering this place, even this vast hospital, where 
 there is many a significant, many a wonderful thing, 
 you shall take me along with you, and I will be your 
 guide. Biit it is by your own eyes, and your ears and 
 your own minds, and (I may add] by your own hearts, 
 that you must observe, and learn, and profit. I can
 
 loS Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 only point to the objects, and say little else than " See 
 here and see there" ' 
 
 This is the great secret, the coming to close 
 quarters with your object, having immediate, not 
 mediate cognisance of the materials of study, appre- 
 hending first, and then doing your best to comprehend. 
 For, to adapt Bacon's illustration, which no one need 
 ever weary of giving or receiving, a good practical 
 physician is more akin to the working-bee than to 
 the spider or the ant. Instead of spinning, like the 
 schoolmen of old, endless webs of speculation out of 
 their own bowels, in which they were themselves 
 afterwards as frequently caught and destroyed as any 
 one else, or hoarding up, grain after grain, the know- 
 ledge of other men, and thus becoming ' a very 
 dungeon of learning,' in which (HibernicS) they lose 
 at once themselves and their aim they should rather 
 be like the brisk and public-hearted bee, who, by 
 divine instinct, her own industry, and the accuracy of 
 her instrument, gathers honey from all flowers. ' For- 
 mica colligit et utitur, ut faciunt empirici ; aranea ex 
 se fila educit neque a particularibus materiam petit ; 
 apis denique caeteris se melius gerit, haec indigesta a 
 floribus mella colligit, deinde in viscerum cellulas 
 concocta maturat, iisdem tandem insudat donee ad 
 integram perfectionem perduxerit.' 
 
 We had intended giving some account of the bear 
 ing that the general enlightenment of the community
 
 L ocke and Sydenham. 1 09 
 
 has upon Medicine, and especially of the value of 
 the labours of such men as Dr. Andrew Combe, Dr. 
 Henry Marshall, Sir James Clark, and others, in the 
 collateral subjects leading into, and auxiliary to pure 
 Medicine, but we have no space to do them any 
 measure of justice. The full importance, and the 
 full possibility of the prevention of disease in all its 
 manifold, civil, moral, and personal bearings, is not 
 yet by any means adequately acknowledged ; there 
 are few things oftener said, or less searched into, than 
 that prevention is better than cure. 
 
 Let not our young and eager doctors be scandalized 
 at our views as to the comparative uncertainty of 
 medicine as a science : such has been the opinion of 
 the wisest and most successful masters of the craft. 
 Radcliffe used to say, that ' when young, he had fifty 
 remedies for every disease ; and when old, one 
 remedy for fifty diseases.' Dr. James Gregory said, 
 ' Young men kill their patients ; old men let them 
 die.' Gaubius says, ' Equidem candide dicam, plura 
 me indies, dum in artis usu versor, dediscere quam 
 discere, et in crescente setate, minui potius quam 
 augeri, scientiam,' meaning by ' scientia ' an abstract 
 systematic knowledge. And Bordeu gives as the 
 remark of an old physician, 'J'dtois dogmatique a 
 vingt ans, observateur k trente, a. quarante je fus 
 empirique ; je n'ai point de systeme k cinquante.' 
 And he adds, in reference to how far a medical man
 
 i io Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 must personally know the sciences that contributed 
 to his art, ' Iphicrates, the Athenian general, was 
 hard pressed by an orator before the people, to say 
 what he was, to be so proud : " Are you a soldier, a 
 captain, an engineer : a spy, a pioneer, a sapper, a 
 miner?" "No," says Iphicrates, "I am none of 
 these, but I command them all." So if one asks me, 
 Are you an empiric, a dogmatist, an observer, an 
 anatomist, a chemist, a microscopist 1 I answer, No, 
 but I am captain of them all.' 
 
 And to conclude these desultory notes in the 
 opening words of the Historia Vita et Mortis, 
 ' Speramus enim et cupimus futurum, ut id pluri- 
 morum bono fiat ; atque ut medici nobiliores animos 
 nonnihil erigant, neque toti sint in curarum sordibus, 
 neque solum pro necessitate honorentur, sed fiant 
 demum omnipotentice et dementia divince administri! 
 ' Etsi enim,' as he pathetically adds, ' nos Christiani 
 ad terrain promissionis perpetuo aspiremus et anhe- 
 lemus ; tamen interim itinerantibus nobis, in hac 
 mundi eremo, etiam calceos istos et tegmina (corporis 
 scilicet nostri fragilis) quam minimum atteri, erit 
 signum divini favoris.' 1 
 
 1 ' For it is our earnest hope and desire, that the efficacy of 
 medicine may be infinitely increased, and that physicians may 
 bear themselves more erect and nobly, and not be wholly taken 
 up with sordid gains and cares, nor be honoured from necessity 
 alone, but may at length become the executors of Divine omni- 
 potence and mercy ; for, though we who are Christians do
 
 Locke and Sydcn/iam. 1 1 1 
 
 We have left ourselves no space to notice Dr. 
 Greenhill's collected edition of Sydenham's Latin 
 works. It is everything that the best scholarship, 
 accuracy, and judgment could make it. We regret 
 we cannot say so much for Dr. R. G. Latham's trans- 
 lation and Life. The first is inferior as a whole to 
 Swan's, and in parts to Pechey's and Wallis's : and the 
 Life, which might have contained so much that is new, 
 valuable, and entertaining, is treated with a curious in- 
 felicity and clumsiness, that is altogether one of the 
 oddest, most gauche and limping bits of composition 
 we ever remember having met with ; and adds another 
 to the many instances to which Bishop Lowth and 
 Cobbett are exceptions, of a grammarian writing, if 
 not ungrammatically, at least without elegance, and 
 occasionally without clearness. It is one thing to 
 know, and often quite another to do the right thing. 
 
 We cannot close these notices of Sydenham with- 
 out thanking Dr. Latham for printing in the Appendix 
 to his second volume, the manuscript preserved in 
 the public library of the University of Cambridge, 
 and referred to in the Biographia Britannica, under 
 Sydenham's name. Dr. Latham states that it is in 
 
 without ceasing long for, and pant after the land of promise, 
 we cannot fail to regard it as a token of the favour of God, 
 when, as we travel through this wilderness of the world, these 
 shoes and garments of our frail bodies are rendered, as little as 
 may be, subject to decay.'
 
 1 1 2 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 a more modern handwriting than that of the author's 
 time, and is headed Theologia Rationalis, by Dr. 
 Thomas Sydenham. This is all that is known, but 
 we think it bears strong internal evidence of being 
 authentic. The following note upon it, by a kind 
 friend, 1 who is well able to judge, gives a just esti- 
 mate of this remarkable relic : 
 
 ' I have looked with much interest over the frag- 
 ment you point out in Sydenham's works. I think it 
 is quite misnamed. It should be Ethica Rationalis, 
 or Naturalis, since its avowed aim is not to examine 
 closely the foundations of natural theology, but rather 
 " the question is, how far the light of Nature, if 
 closely adverted to, may be extended toward the 
 making of good men" This question is closely pur- 
 sued throughout, and leads to the result that there is 
 an order in man's nature, which leads to a threefold 
 set of obligations, according to the common divi- 
 sion, towards God, society, and one's-self. This is 
 the plan according to which the fragment is blocked 
 out. The perfections and providence of God are 
 discussed solely as laying a foundation for man's 
 duties ; and these, adoration, prayer, submission, 
 confession of sin are summed up in pages 312, 313. 
 Next follow the duties to society, very speedily de- 
 spatched ; and those to self discussed more at length, 
 such as temperance, truth, modesty, prudent enjoy- 
 1 Rev. John Cairns, D.D.
 
 Locke and Sydenham. 1 1 3 
 
 ment in subservience to reason. With the same 
 ethical aim the question of immortality is discussed, 
 solely as a help to virtue and to the predominance 
 of reason. In arguing this from immateriality, the 
 author is entangled in the usual difficulty about the 
 souls of the brutes, but escapes by the Cartesian denial 
 of their true thinking power ; and more satisfactorily 
 by urging the sentimental argument from men's desire 
 of immortality, and the more strictly moral one, from 
 unequal retribution. All this, I think, bears out the 
 view I have taken. There is not, perhaps, so much 
 originality in the views of the author as general 
 soundness and loftiness of moral tone, with that fine 
 power of illustration which you have noticed. I 
 agree with you in seeing much of the spirit both of 
 Locke and Butler : of Locke, in the spirit of obser- 
 vation and geniality; of Butler, in the clear utter- 
 ances as to the supremacy of reason, and the neces- 
 sity of living according to our true nature, not to 
 speak of other agreements in detail. 1 think the 
 paper well deserves a cordial recognition, though it 
 hardly reaches out, perhaps in any one direction, be- 
 yond the orthodox ethics of the seventeenth century.' 
 We give at random some extracts from the Theo- 
 logia Rationalis : ' Nor indeed can I entertain any 
 thoughts more derogatory from the majesty of this 
 Divine Being, than not supposing him to be a free 
 agent ; but having once put all his works out of his 
 H
 
 1 14 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 own hands, to be concluded within the limits of his 
 own establishing hath determined irrational beings 
 to act in some uniform course, suitable to the good 
 of themselves and the whole. And tho' he hath set 
 up certain lights in intellectual natures, wh ch may 
 direct them to pursue ends suitable to their natures, 
 yet having given these a liberty of will incident to the 
 very nature of reasonable beings, he retains his power 
 of inclining or not inclining such intellectual natures 
 to pursue courses leading to their welfare.' 
 
 ' Also, from the same consideration (the excellence 
 of my mind above my body) it is that I am neither 
 to thinke, speake, or act anything that is indecorous 
 or disgracefull to this Divine inmate, whose excellency 
 above my body Nature hath tacitly pointed out, by 
 impressing upon me a verecundia, or being ashamed 
 of many actions of my body, w ch therefore I hide 
 from those of my own species. But now, forasmuch 
 as I consist likewise of a body w cb is submitted to the 
 same conditions with other animals, of being nou- 
 rished and propagating my kind, and, likewise, w ch 
 wants many other conveniences of clothing, housing, 
 and the like, which their nature requires not; all 
 those likewise are to be respected by me, according 
 to my several wants ; but still with a subservience to 
 my reason, which is my superior part, and acts flow- 
 ing from the same, my chiefest business ; as an em- 
 bassador who is sent into a foreign country, is not
 
 Locke and Sydcnham. 1 1 5 
 
 sent to eat and to drink, tho' he is enforced to do 
 both.' 
 
 'When I consider that the infinite Governour of 
 the universe hath so made me, that in my intellect 
 I have some small glympses of his being, whilst I 
 cann't but apprehend that immensity of power and 
 wisdom w ch is in him, and doth appear in whatsoever 
 I see, and this I must apprehend, even if I endeavour 
 not to do it, it being closely riveted, and as it were 
 co-essential to my nature ; or if I have gotten of it 
 by hearsay onely, it being so fitted to my nature, 
 that I must needs believe it, w ch two make up the 
 same thing. Now how can I think that this Divine 
 Being, that hath admitted me to this little acquaint- 
 ance w th him, will let the laying down of my body 
 perfectly break off this acquaintance, and not rather 
 that the throwing of this load of corruption will put 
 my soul into a condition more suitable to its own 
 nature, it being much more difficult to think how 
 such a noble substance as the soul should be united 
 to the body, than how it should subsist separately 
 from it But add to this, that I have not only 
 faculties of knowing this Divine Being, but in 
 complyance with him, I have adored him with all 
 the attention I could screw up my heavy mind 
 unto, and have endeavoured to yield obedience to 
 those lawes w ch he hath written upon my nature ; 
 that I who have done this (supposing that I have
 
 1 1 6 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 done it), should extinguish when my body dies, is 
 yet more unlikely. Moreover I consider that this 
 Maker of the universe hath brought his ends so 
 together, that he hath implanted no affections upon 
 the meanest animal, but hath made objects to an- 
 swer them ; as he that hath made the eye hath made 
 colours, and he that hath made the organs of hear- 
 ing hath likewise made sounds, and so of an infinite 
 number of other affections, not only in animals, but 
 even in those natures inferior to them all, w 011 have 
 objects suited to them ; and if they had not, there 
 would be a flaw even in the constitution of the 
 universe, w ch can't be charged upon the infinitely 
 wise Creator. But now that there should be found 
 in mankind a certain appetite or reaching out after 
 a future happiness, and that there should be no 
 such thing to answer to it, but that this cheat 
 should be put upon the rational part of man, w h 
 is the highest nature in the globe where we live, is 
 to me very improbable.' 
 
 We subjoin, with Mr. Black's kind permission, a 
 portion of the Life of Sydenham, in the last edition 
 of his admirable Encyclopaedia ; it contains, I believe, 
 all the old and some new facts : 
 
 ' SYDENHAM, THOMAS the greatest name in 
 English practical medicine was born in 1624 at 
 Winford Eagle, Dorsetshire, where his father, William
 
 L ocke and Sydenham. 1 1 7 
 
 Sydenham, had a fine estate. He was a commoner 
 of Magdalen Hall, Oxford, 1642, but was obliged 
 to leave that city when it became a royal garrison, 
 not having taken up arms for the king, as the 
 students of those days generally did. In 1649, 
 after the garrison delivered up Oxford to the Par- 
 liamentary forces, he returned to Magdalen Hall, 
 and was created Bachelor of Physic on the Pem- 
 brokean creation, when Lord Pembroke became 
 Chancellor of the University, and honorary degrees 
 were conferred. This was in April 1648. He had 
 not previously taken any degree in arts. He then, 
 on submitting to the authority of the visitors ap- 
 pointed by the Parliament, was made by them (at 
 the intercession of a relative) Fellow of All Souls, 
 in the room of one of the many ejected Royalists. 
 He continued for some years earnestly prosecuting 
 his profession, and left Oxford without taking any 
 other degree. He was also, according to his own 
 account, in a letter to Dr. Gould, fellow-commoner 
 of Wadham College in the year Oxford surrendered. 
 It is not easy to understand why he went to 
 Wadham, as he was not a fellow but a fellow- 
 commoner equivalent to a gentleman-commoner 
 in Cambridge unless it was that, on returning to 
 Magdalen Hall, he found himself, as a Parlia- 
 mentarian, more at home in Wadham where the 
 then head was John Wilkins, Cromwell's brother-in-
 
 1 1 8 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 law a man of genius and of a keen scientific spirit, 
 and afterwards and still famous as Bishop of Chester 
 one of the founders of the Royal Society, which 
 first met at Oxford ; and author, among other 
 works, of a discourse on a Universal Language and 
 of an Inquiry as to the best Way of Travelling to 
 the Moon; a man of rare parts and worth, and of 
 a liberality in religion and science then still rarer, 
 being, according to Anthony Wood, an 'excellent 
 mathematician and experimentist, and one as well 
 seen in the new philosophy as any of his time ; 
 such a man would be sure to cordialize with Syden- 
 ham, who was of the Baconian or genuine Empiric 
 school ; and who, in the " new philosophy," saw the 
 day-spring of all true scientific progress. It is not 
 clear when Sydenham settled in London, or more 
 properly speaking in Westminster; it certainly was 
 before 1661. In 1663 he was admitted a licentiate 
 of the College of Physicans of London, he never 
 was a fellow; his degree of doctor of medicine 
 was taken at Cambridge in 1676, long after he was 
 in full practice, his college being Pembroke ; his 
 diploma is signed by Isaac Barrow. His reason 
 probably for taking a Cambridge degree may have 
 been that his eldest son was a pensioner at that 
 college. 
 
 ' Sydenham's elder brother, William, was a distin- 
 guished soldier and politician during the Common-
 
 Locke and Sydenluim. 1 19 
 
 wealth. This, along with his own likings, and his 
 love of the new philosophy, prevented him during the 
 reigns of the second Charles and James, from enjoy- 
 ing court favour. It has often been doubted whether 
 Sydenham actually served in the army of the Parlia- 
 ment ; but from an anecdote known generally as Dr. 
 Lettsom's, but which appears first in a curious old 
 controversial book by Dr. Andrew Brown, the Vindi- 
 catory Schedule, published two years after Sydenham's 
 death, it is made quite certain that he did. 
 
 ' Before settling in London he seems, on the autho- 
 rity of Desault, to have visited Monrpellier, and to 
 have attended the lectures of the famous Barbeyrac. 
 After this he devoted himself to his profession, and 
 became the greatest physician of his time, in spite of 
 the court, and of the College of Physicians ; by one 
 of whose fellows Lister he was called " a miserable 
 quack." He suffered for many of the later years of 
 his life from the gout, his description of which has 
 become classical, and died in his house, Pall-Mail 
 or as he spells it, Pell-Mell in 1689. He lies 
 buried in St. James's, Westminster, with the following 
 noble because true inscription : " Prope hunc locum 
 sepultus est Thomas Sydenham, medicus in omne cevum, 
 nobilis, natus erat A.D. 1624 : vixit annos 65." His 
 works, which became rapidly popular during his life- 
 time, and to an extraordinary extent soon after his 
 death there were upwards of twenty-five editions in
 
 1 20 Locke and Sydenham, 
 
 less than a hundred years consist chiefly of occa- 
 sional pieces, extorted from him by his friends, and 
 often in the form of letters ; none of them are formal 
 treatises, and all are plainly the result of his own im- 
 mediate reflection and experience. One is greatly 
 struck at the place he occupies in the writings of all 
 the great medical authors at the end of the seven- 
 teenth and beginning of the eighteenth centuries. 
 Morton, Willis, Boerhaave, Gaubius, Bordeu, etc., 
 always speak of him as second in sagacity to 'the 
 divine Hippocrates' alone. Boerhaave never men- 
 tioned him in his class without lifting his hat, and 
 called him Anglice lumen, artis PJioebum, veram Hip- 
 pocratid viri speciem. His simple, manly views of the 
 nature and means of medicine as an art seem to have 
 come upon the profession like revelations ; it was as 
 if the men in Plato's cavern, who had been all their 
 lives with their backs to the light, studying their own 
 shadows, had suddenly turned round and gazed on 
 the broad face of the outer world, lying in sunshine 
 before them. 
 
 ' All Sydenham's works are in Latin, and though 
 from his education and tastes, and the habits of his 
 time, and also from the composition of the Processus 
 Integri brief notes left by him for his sons' use, 
 and published after his death there is little doubt 
 he could have written them in that tongue, there 
 seems every likelihood that he was assisted in doing
 
 Locke and Sydenham. 1 2 1 
 
 so by his friends Drs. Mapletoft and Havers. There 
 are three English translations one by Dr. Perhey, 
 another by Dr. Swan, to which is prefixed a life by 
 Samuel Johnson, among his earliest performances, 
 and published by Cave, and the last, the Sydenham 
 Society's edition, by Dr. Latham.' 
 
 The following hitherto unpublished letters I had 
 the good fortune to find in the British Museum. The 
 first must have been written two months later than 
 the one quoted at page 47, and refers to the same 
 subjects : 
 
 Letter from JOHN LOCKE to Dr. MAPLETOFT. 
 
 PARIS, gih Aug. 1677. 
 
 DEAR SIR, I had noe sooner don my letter on 
 the other side, but I found it answered by yours of 
 July 25, and though it hath satisfied me that you are 
 very well, and given me new proofs that you are very 
 much my friend, yet it hath put new doubts into me, 
 and methinkes I see you going to loose yourself. I 
 will say noe worse of it, not knowing how far the 
 matter is gon, else I would aske you whether the 
 men, young, old, or middle aged, each of which is 
 sure to meet you with the homes of a dilemma. I 
 see you are, whatever you think, hot upon the scent ; 
 and if you have noething else to defend you, but
 
 1 22 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 those maxims you build on, I feare the chase will 
 lead you where yourself will be caught. For be as 
 grave and steady as you please, resolve as much as 
 you will, never to goe out of your way or pace, for 
 never an hey trony nony whatsoever, you are not one 
 jot the safer for all this steadiness. For, believe it, 
 sir, this sorte of game having a designe to be caught, 
 will hunt just at the pursuer's rate, and will goe no 
 further before them than will just serve to make you 
 follow ; and let me assure you upon as good authority 
 as honest Tom Bagnall's, that vivus vidensque pereo, 
 is the lamentable ditty of many an honest gentleman. 
 But if you or the Fates (for the poor Fates are still 
 to be accused in the case), if your mettle be up, and 
 as hard as Sir Fr. Drake, you will shoot the desperate 
 gulph ; yet consider that though the riches of Peru 
 lie that way, how will you can endure the warme navi- 
 gation of the Mare de Zur, which all travellers assure 
 us is nicknamed pacificiim. 
 
 But hold, I goe too far. All this, perhaps, not- 
 withstanding your ancient good principles, will be 
 heresie to you by that time it comes to England, and 
 therefore, I conjure you by our friendship to burne 
 this as soon as you have read it, that it may never 
 rise up in judgment against me. 
 
 I see one is never sure of one's-self, and the time 
 may come when I may resigne myself to the empire 
 of the soft sex, and abominate myself for these miser-
 
 L ockc and Sydenham. 1 2 3 
 
 able errors. However, as the matter now stands, I 
 have discharged my conscience, and pray do not let 
 me suffer for it. For I know your lovers are a sort 
 of people that are bound to sacrifice everything to 
 your mistresses. But to be serious with you, if your 
 heart does hang that way, I wish you good luck. 
 May Hymen be as kinde to you as ever he was to 
 anybody, and then, I am sure, you will be much 
 happier than any forlorne batchelor can be. If it be 
 like to be, continue your care of my interest in the 
 case (to get him his chair in Gresham), and remember 
 it is for one that knows how to value the quiet and 
 retirement you are going to quit. You have no more 
 to do for me than lovers use to doe upon their own 
 account, viz., keepe the matter as secret and private 
 as you can, and then when it is ripe and resolved, 
 give me but notice and I shall quickly be with you, 
 for it is by your directions I shall better governe 
 my motives than by the flights of thrushes and field- 
 fares. 
 
 Some remains of my cough, and something like a 
 charge is fallen into my hands lately here, will, if 
 noething else happen, keepe me out probably longer 
 than the time you mention. But not knowing whether 
 the aire of France will ever quite remove my old 
 companion or noe, I shall neglect that uncertainty 
 upon the consideration of soe comfortable an import- 
 ance ; and for the other affaire I have here, if you
 
 1 24 Locke and Sydenham. 
 
 please to let me hear from you sometimes how mat- 
 ters are like to goe, I shall be able to order that 
 enough to come at the time you shall thinke sea- 
 sonable. Whatever happens, I wish you all the hap- 
 piness of one or t'other condition. I am perfectly, 
 dear Sir, your most humble and obedient servant. 
 
 To DR. MAPLETOFT, 
 at Gresham CMege. 
 
 In the same MS. volume in which I found this 
 letter, is a case-book of Locke's, in his own neat 
 hand, written in Latin (often slovenly and doggish 
 enough), and which shows, if there were any further 
 need, that he was in active practice in 1667. The 
 title in the Museum volume is ' Original Medical 
 Papers by John Locke, presented by Wm. Seward, 
 Esq. ;' and its contents are 
 
 1. Hy drops. 
 
 2. Rheumatismus. 
 
 3. Hydrops. 
 
 4. Febris Inflammatoria, 
 
 To us now it seems curious to think of the author 
 of the Essay on Human Understanding recording all 
 the aches and doses, and minute miseries of an an- 
 cilla culinaria virgv, and to find that after a long 
 and anxious case he was turned off, when, as he 
 says, his impatient patient alio advocate medico erump-
 
 Locke and Sydenham. 1 2 5 
 
 The copy of a Letter of DR. THO. SYDENHAM to DR. 
 GOULD, the original of which was communicated to 
 me by DR. MEAD, Octob. i, 1743. 
 
 SIR, I conceive that the Salivation, though raised 
 by Mercury, in your variolous Patient doeth noe 
 more centra-indicate the giving of Paregoricke, than 
 if the same had come on of its own accord in a con- 
 fluent Pox; and therefore it will be convenient for 
 you to give him every night such a quieting medicine 
 as this : R Hy Cerasor nigrorum ii, and gut 
 
 xiiii : Syr de Mecon ss. But if it shall happen, y' 
 the Mercury shall at any time exert its operation by 
 stooles, you may repeat it oftener as there should be 
 occasion, after the same manner as it ought to be 
 don. In the first Days of Mercuriall Unctions where 
 when Diarrhoea comes on, there is noe course so 
 proper as to turn the operation of the Mercury 
 upwards, and thereby cause a laudable salivation as 
 y e giving of Laudanum till the Looseness is stopt. 
 
 As to what you are pleassed to mention concerning 
 success, which yourself and others have had in the 
 trying of my Processus, 1 can only say this, that I 
 have bin very careful to write nothing but what was 
 the product of careful observation, soe when the 
 scandall of my person shall be layd aside in my 
 grave, it will appear that I neither suffered myselfe to 
 be decieved by indulging to idle speculations, nor
 
 126 L ocke and Sydenham. 
 
 have decieved others by obtruding anything to them 
 but downright matter of fact. Be pleased to doe me 
 the favour to give my humble service to Mr. Vice- 
 Chancellor your warden, whose father, Bp. of Bristoll, 
 was my intimate friend and countryman. I myself 
 was once a fellow-commoner of your house (Wadham 
 College, Oxford), but how long since I would be 
 glad to know from you, as I remember it was in the 
 year Oxford surrendered, though I had one of 
 Magdalen Hall some time before. 
 
 THOMAS SYDENHAM. 
 PELL MELL, 
 Deer. 10, 1667. 
 
 There is interesting matter in this letter besides its 
 immediate subjects, and some things, I rather think, 
 unknown before of Sydenham's College life. It is 
 the only printed bit of English by its author, except 
 a letter to the Honourable Robert Boyle, quoted in 
 Latham's Life. 
 
 ' The real physician is the one who cures : the 
 observation, which does not teach the art of healing, 
 is not that of a physician, it is that of a naturalist.' 
 Broussais.
 
 Locke and Sydenham. \ 2 7 
 
 NOTE A. P. 40. 
 
 LORD GRENVILLE. 
 
 THE reader, we are sure, will not be impatient of the follow- 
 ing extracts from Lord Grenville's Tract, entitled Oxford and 
 Locke, already mentioned. It is now rare, and is not likely to 
 be ever reprinted separately. It would not be easy to imagine 
 anything more thoroughly or more exquisitely done than this 
 tract ; it is of itself ample evidence of the accuracy of Lord 
 Brougham's well-known application to its author of Cicero's 
 words : ' Erant in eo flurimtz litene, nee ece vulgares sed in- 
 teriores qu&dam et recondite, divina memoria, summa verborum 
 gravitas et elegantia, atqiie Juzc omnia viliz decorabat dignitas et 
 integritas. Quantum pondtis in verbis I Qiiam nihil non con- 
 sidcratum, exibat ex ore ! Sileamus de illo ni augeannis dolorem? 
 
 Our extracts are from the First Chapter, ' Of Locke's Medical 
 Studies:' 
 
 ' In the printed Life of Locke, commonly prefixed to his 
 works, we are told that he applied himself at the university 
 with great diligence to the study of medicine, "not with any 
 design of practising as a physician, but principally for the benefit 
 of his own constitution, which was but weak." The self-taught 
 scholar, says the ItalLn proverb, has an ignorant master ; and 
 the patient who prescribes for himself, has not often, I believe, 
 a very wise physician. No such purpose is ascribed to Locke 
 by Le Clerc, from whom our knowledge of his private history is 
 principally derived. Nor can we believe that such a man chose 
 for himself in youth that large and dim cult study, with no view 
 to the good of others, but meaning it to begin and end only 
 with the care of his own health.
 
 128 Locke and SydenJmm. 
 
 ' From the very first dawn of reviving letters to the present 
 moment, there never has been a period in this country, when 
 the great masters of medicine among us have not made manifest 
 the happy influence of that pursuit, on the cultivation of all the 
 other branches of philosophy. And accordingly we find, that 
 while Locke was still proceeding, as it is termed, in the acade- 
 mical course of that noble science, he was already occupied in 
 laying the foundations of the Essay on the Human Understand- 
 ing, which, as we learn from Le Clerc, was commenced in 
 1670. 
 
 ' Mr. Stewart thinks it matter of praise to Locke, that in 
 that work "not a single passage," he says, "occurs, savouring 
 of the Anatomical Theatre, or of the Chemical Laboratory." 
 This assertion is not to be too literally taken. Certainly no 
 trace of professional pedantry is to be found in that simple and 
 forcible writer. He had looked abroad into all the knowledge 
 of his time, and in his unceasing endeavours to make his pro- 
 positions and his proofs intelligible and perspicuous to all, he 
 delighted to appeal to every topic of most familiar observation. 
 Among these some reference to medical science could scarcely 
 have been avoided. Nor has it been entirely so. Mr. Stewart 
 himself has elsewhere noticed Locke's "homely" illustration of 
 the nature of secondary qualities, by the operation of manna on 
 the human body. A more pleasing example of medical allusion 
 is to be found in one of the many passages where Locke points 
 out to us how often men whose opinions substantially agree, are 
 heard wrangling about the names and watchwords of parties 
 and sects, to which they respectively attach quite different 
 significations. He tells us of a meeting of physicians, at which 
 he- himself was present. These ingenious and learned men 
 debated long, he says, " whether any liquor passed through the 
 filaments of the nerves," until it appeared, on mutual explana- 
 tion, that they all admitted the passage of some fluid and subtle 
 matter through those channels, and had been disputing only 
 whether or not it should be called a liquor, " which, when con- 
 sidered, they thought not worth contending about. " 
 
 ' In his Letters on Toleration, and in his Essay on the Conduct 
 of the Understanding, his two most valuable, because most
 
 Locke and Sydenham. 1 29 
 
 practical works, he indulges much more freely in such allusions. 
 It is frequently by their aid that, in the first of those admirable 
 productions, he ridicules his unequal adversary's project of en- 
 forcing universal conformity by moderate and lenient persecution. 
 In one place he compares him to a surgeon using his knife on 
 the sick and sound alike, on bad subjects and on good, without 
 their consent, but, as he assures them, always solely for their 
 own advantage ; and in another place to an empiric, prescrib- 
 ing, says Locke, his " hiera picra" (HIS HOLY BITTERS), to be 
 taken in such doses only as shall be sufficient for the cure, with- 
 out once inquiring in what quantities of that poisonous drug 
 such sufficiency is at all likely to be found. Again, we find 
 him illustrating in a similar way the proper conduct to be pur- 
 sued by a mind devoting itself in any case to a genuine search 
 for truth. A diligent and sincere, a close and unbiased exami- 
 nation, he powerfully insists upon as "the surest and safest" 
 method for that purpose. Would not this, he asks, be the 
 conduct of a student in medicine wishing to acquire just notions 
 of that science, "or of the doctrines of Hippocrates, or any 
 other book in which he conceived the whole art of physic to be 
 infallibly contained ? " These, and many other passages of a 
 like description, are beauties, surely, not blemishes, in Locke's 
 powerful composition, and certainly in no degree less valuable, 
 for bearing some tincture of the current in which that great 
 man's thoughts and studies had been so long carried forward.' 
 
 This Hiera Picra still survives under the name of Hickery 
 Pickery; and appears in the London Pharmacopoeia of 1650, 
 as thus composed : 
 
 B Cinnamon. 
 Lignum aloes. 
 Asarum root. 
 Spikenard. 
 Mastick. 
 
 Saffron, aa. 3vj. 
 
 Aloes (unwashed), ^xijss. 
 Clarified honey, Ibiv. giij. 
 Mix Ft. elect, sec. art. 
 
 I
 
 130 Locke and Sydenham, 
 
 NOTE B.-P. 103. 
 
 THE ELDER SERVING THE YOUNGER. 
 
 BORDEU puts this well, in his candid, lively, and shrewd way. 
 The whole passage is full of his peculiar humour and sense. 
 Bordeu was in many respects a sort of French Sydenham, like 
 and unlike, as a Frenchman is like and unlike an Englishman. 
 He was himself, to use his own phrase, one ' des medecins les 
 plus senses.' It is no good sign of our medical tastes that he is 
 so little known. 
 
 'Les Serane, pere et fils, etoient medecins de 1'hopital de 
 Montpellier. Le fils etoit un theoricien leger, qui savoit par 
 coeur et qui redisoit continuellement tous les documens de 
 I'inflammation, comme ces enfans qui vous repetent sans cesse 
 et avec des airs plus ou moins niais, La tigale ayant chante tottt 
 r&te, etc., Maitre corbeau sur un arbre perche, etc. Serane pere 
 etoit un bon homme qui avoit ete instruit par de grands maitres. 
 II avoit appris d trailer les fluxions de poitrine avec 1'emetique ; 
 il le donnoit pour le moins tous les deux jours, avec ou sans 
 1'addition de deux onces de manne. C'etoit son grand cheval 
 de bataille. Je le lui ai vu lacher plus de mille fois, et partout 
 et pour tout. Le fils se proposa de convertir le pere et de le 
 mettre a la mode ; c'est-a-dire, lui faire craindre la phlogose, 
 Verftisme, les dechirures des petits vaisseaux. Le cher pere 
 tomba dans une espece d'indecision singuliere : il ne savoit oil 
 donner de la tete. II tenoit pourtant ferme contre la saignee ; 
 mais lorsqu'il etoit aupres d'un malade, il murmuroit et s'en 
 alloit sans rien ordonner. Je 1'ai vu a plusieurs reprises, apo- 
 stropher son fils avec vivacite et lui crier, lorsqu'il auroit voulu 
 donner 1'emetique, Man fil, m'abes gastat ! (Mon fils, vous 
 niavez gate, !) Jamais cette scene singuliere ne sortira de ma 
 memoire. Je lui ai bien de 1'obligation, et les malades de I'ho- 
 pital lui avoient aussi beaucoup. Us guerissoient sans etre 
 presque saignes, parce que le vieux Serane n'aimoit pas la 
 saignee ; et sans prendre 1'emetique parce que le jeune Serane 
 avoit prouve a son pere que ce remede augmente I'inflammation. 
 Les malades guerissoient, etj'en faisois mon profit. J' en con-
 
 Locke and Sydenham. 1 3 1 
 
 cluois que les saignees que Serane le fils multiplioit lorsqu'il 
 etoit seul, etoient tout au moins aussi inutiles que 1'emetique 
 reitere auquel Serane le pere etoit trop attache. D'apres cette 
 aventure (jointe a celle que je viens de rapporter, et a plusieurs 
 autres de la meme espece), je crus voir bien sensiblement, et je 
 me crois aujourd'hui en droit de publier, qu'on multiplie trop 
 les remedes et que les meilleurs deviennent perfides a force de 
 les presser. Cette profusion de medicamens rend la maladie 
 meconnoissable, et forme un obstacle sensible a la guerison. 
 La fureur de trailer les maladies en faisant prendre drogues sur 
 drogues ayant gagne les tetes ordinaires, les medecins sont au- 
 jourd'hui plus necessaires pour le,s empecher et les defendre, que 
 pour les ordonner. Les pratiques nationales, les observations des 
 medecins les plus senses, se ressentent plus ou moins du penchant 
 invincible qu'ont les homines a donner la preference a de cer- 
 taines idees, sur d'autres, tout aussi bien fondees que celles 
 qu'ils preferent. Je le declare sans passion, et avec la modestie 
 a laquelle mes foibles connoissances me condamnent ; lorsqueje 
 regarde derriere moi, j'ai honte d' avoir tant insiste, tantot sur 
 les saignees, tantot sur les purgatifs et les emetiques. Tous les 
 axiomes rappeles ci-dessus, et dont on abuse tous les jours, sont 
 detniits par de beaucoup plus vrais, et malheureusement trop peu 
 connus. II me semble entendre crier la Nature: "Ne vous 
 pressez point ; laissez-moi faire ; vos drogues ne guerissent 
 point, surtout lorsque vous les entassez dans le corps des 
 malades ; c'est moi seule qui gueris. Les momens qui vous 
 paroissent les plus orageux sont ceux ou je me sauve le mieux, 
 si vous ne m'avez pas ote mes forces. II vaut mieux que vous 
 m'abandonniez toute la besogne que d'essayer des remedes 
 douteux. 
 
 ' Un hasard heureux commen9a a moderer en moi le brulant 
 desir d'instrumenter, ou de faire voir aux assistans ebahis et aux 
 malades eux-memes, la cause de la maladie dans un grand 
 etalage de palettes et de bassins. J'etois fort jeune encore, et 
 le quatrieme medecin d'un malade attaque de la fievre, de la 
 douleur de cote et du crachement de sang ; je n'avois point 
 d'avis a donner. Un des trois consultans proposa une troisieme 
 saignee (c'etoit le troisieme jour de la maladie) ; le second
 
 1 3 2 Locke and Sydcnham. 
 
 proposa 1'emetique combine avec un purgatif ; et le troisieme, 
 un vesicatoire aux jambes. Le debat ne fut pas petit, et per- 
 sonne ne voulut ceder. J'aurois jure qu'ils avoient tous raison. 
 Enfin, on aura peine a croire que par une suite de circonstan- 
 ces inutiles a rapporter, cette dispute iriteressa cinq ou six 
 nombreuses families, partagees comme les medecins, et qui pre- 
 tendoient s'emparer du malade; elle dura, en .un mot, jusques 
 passe le septieme de la maladie. Cependant, malgre les 
 terribles menaces de mes trois maitres, le malade reduit a la 
 boisson et a la diete guerit tres-bien. Je suivis cette guenson 
 parce que j'etois reste seul : je la trouvai tracee par 1'ecole de 
 Cos, et je m'ecriai, c'etoit done la route qu'il falloit prendre!' 
 Recherches sur le Tissu Muqucux, 1767. 
 
 NOTE C. P. 86. 
 
 THE WISDOM OF DOING NOTHING. 
 
 The reader will mark the coincidence of thought, and even 
 expression, between Locke and his friend : 
 
 ' I commend very much the discretion of Mrs. Furley, that 
 she would not give him precipitates 1. Because physick is 
 not to be given to children upon every little disorder. 2. Phy- 
 sick for the worms is not to be given upon every bare suspi- 
 cion that there may be worms. 3. If it were evident that he 
 had worms, such dangerous medicines are not to be given till 
 after the use of other and more gentle and safe remedys. If he 
 continue still dull and melancholy, the best way is to have him 
 abroad to walke with you every day in the air ; that, I believe, 
 may set him right without any physic, at least if it should not, 
 'tis not fit to give him remedys till one has well examined what 
 is the distemper, unless you think (as is usually doune), that at 
 all hazard something is to be given ; a way, I confess, I could 
 never thinke reasonable, it being better in my opinion to doe no 
 thing, than to doe amiss. ' Locke to Furley in Forster.
 
 Locke and Sydenham. \ 3 3 
 
 BOOKS CONSULTED. 
 
 I. Bibliotheque Choisie, tome vi. : 1716. 2. Oxford and 
 Locke ; by Lord Grenville : London, 1829. 3. Life of John 
 Locke; by Lord King. 4. Original Letters of John Locke, 
 Algernon Sidney, and Lord Shaftesbury ; edited by T. For- 
 ster; 2d edition : London, privately printed, 1847. 5. Ward's 
 Lives of the Professors of Gresham College. 6. Thomae Syden- 
 ham, M.D., Opera omnia ; ediSit G. A. Greenhill, M.D. : 
 Londini, impensis Societatis Sydenhamianae, 1844. 7. The 
 Works of Thomas Sydenham, M.D. ; with a Life of the 
 Author; by R. G. Latham, M.D., 2 vols. : primed for the 
 Sydenham Society. 8. MSS. Letters and Common-place 
 Books of John Locke, in the possession of the Earl of 
 Lovelace.
 
 DR. ANDREW COMBE. 
 
 ' . . . Valetudinis conservationem, qua sine dubio primum est 
 hujus vita bonum, et cceterorum omnitim fund amentum. Animus 
 enim adeb a temperamento et organorum corporis dispositione 
 pendet, ut si ratio aliqua possit inveniri, qua homines sapientiores 
 et ingeniosiores reddat quant hactenus fuerunt, credam illam in 
 Medicina quizri debere. ' RENATUS DESCARTES De Methodo, vi. 
 
 1 Ovid observes that there are more fine days than cloudy ones 
 in the year 
 
 " Si nnmeres anno soles et nubilti tote, 
 Invenies nitidum scepius esse diem" 
 
 It may be said likewise, that the days wherein men enjoy their 
 health are in greater number than those -wherein they are sick. 
 But there is perhaps as much misery in fifteen days' sickness, as 
 there is pleasure in fifteen years' health? BAYLE, under the 
 word PERICLES. 
 
 ' Eunt 'homines mirari alta montium, ingentes fiuctus marts, 
 altissimos lapsus fiurninum, oceani ambitum et gyros siderum 
 seipsos relinquunt nee admiranlur.' 1 ST. AUSTIN.
 
 DR. ANDREW COMBE. 
 
 "\ \ TE do not know a worthier subject for an essay 
 in one of our larger Medical Journals, than 
 to determine the just position of such a man as Dr. 
 Combe in the history of Medicine showing what it 
 was in theory and in practice, in its laws as a science, 
 and in its rules as an art when he made his appear- 
 ance on its field, and what impression his character 
 and doctrines have made upon the public as requir- 
 ing, and upon his brethren as professing to furnish, 
 the means of health. The object of such an essay 
 would be to make out how far Dr. Combe's principles 
 of inquiry, his moral postulates, his method of cure, 
 his views of the powers and range of medicine as a 
 science, estimative, rather than exact, his rationale of 
 human nature as composite and in action, how far 
 all these influences may be expected to affect the 
 future enlargement, enlightenment, and quickening 
 of that art which is, far excellence, the art of life, 
 and whose advance, in a degree of which we can,
 
 138 Dr. Andrew Combe. 
 
 from its present condition, form little conception, 
 was believed by one of the greatest intellects of any 
 age (Descartes) to be destined t3 play a signal part 
 in making mankind more moral, wiser, and happier, 
 as well as stronger, longer-lived, and healthier. The 
 cause of morality of everything that is connected 
 with the onward movement of the race is more de- 
 pendent upon the bodily health, upon the organic 
 soundness of the human constitution, than many poli- 
 ticians, moralists, and divines seem ready to believe. 
 Dr. Combe was not, perhaps, what is commonly 
 called a man of genius ; that is, genius was not his 
 foremost and most signal and efficient quality. He 
 made no brilliant discovery in physiology or thera- 
 peutics, like some of his contemporaries. He did 
 not, as by a sudden flash of light, give form, and 
 symmetry, and meaning to the nervous system, as 
 did Sir Charles Bell, when he proved that every 
 nerve is double ; that its sheath, like the Britannia 
 Bridge, contains two lines, carrying two trains an 
 up and a down ; the sensory, as the up, bringing 
 knowledge from without of all sorts to the brain ; 
 the motory, as the down, carrying orders from the 
 same great centre of sensation and will. Neither 
 did he, like Dr. Marshall Hall, render this discovery 
 more exquisite, by adding to it that of the excito- 
 motor nerves the system of reflex action, by which, 
 with the most curious nicety and art (for Nature is
 
 Dr. Andrew Combe. 139 
 
 the art of God), each part of our frame, however dis- 
 tinct in function, different in structure, and distant 
 from the others, may intercommunicate with any or 
 every part, as by an electric message, thus binding 
 in one common sympathy of pleasure and pain, the 
 various centres of organic and animal life with each 
 other, and with the imperial brain. Neither did he, 
 as Laennec, open the ear, and through it the mind 
 of the physician, to a new discipline, giving a new 
 method and means of knowledge and of cure. Nor, 
 finally, did he enrich practical medicine, as Dr. 
 Abercrombie and others have done, with a selection 
 of capital facts, of ' middle propositions,' from per- 
 sonal experience and reflection, and with the ma- 
 tured results of a long-exercised sagacity and skill in 
 diagnosis and in treatment. He did not do all this 
 for various reasons, but mainly and simply because 
 his Maker had other and important work for him, 
 and constituted and fitted him accordingly, by a spe- 
 cial teaching from within and from without, for its 
 accomplishment, vouchsafing to him what is one of 
 God's best blessings to any of his creatures an 
 innate perception of law, a love of first principles, a 
 readiness to go wherever they lead, and nowhere 
 else. He discovered for to him it had all the sud- 
 denness of a first sight that all the phenomena of 
 disease, of life, and of health, everything in the entire 
 round of the economy of man's microcosm, move
 
 140 Dr. Andrew Combe. 
 
 according to certain laws, and fixed modes of pro- 
 cedure laws which are ascertainable by those who 
 honestly seek them, and which, in virtue of their rea- 
 sonableness and beneficence, and their bearing, as it 
 were, the ' image and superscription' of their Divine 
 Giver, carry with them, into all their fields of action, 
 the double burden of reward and punishment ; and 
 that all this is as demonstrable as the law of gravita- 
 tion, which, while it shivers an erring planet in its 
 anger, and sends it adrift to ' hideous ruin and com- 
 bustion,' at the same moment, and by the very same 
 force, times the music of the spheres, compacts a 
 dew-drop, and guides, as of old, Arcturus and his 
 sons. This is Dr. Combe's highest his peculiar dis- 
 tinction among medical writers. He burns, as with 
 a passionate earnestness, to bring back the bodily 
 economy of man to its allegiance to the Supreme 
 Guide. He shows in his works, and still more im- 
 pressively in his living and dying, the divine beauty 
 and power and goodness that shine out in every, the 
 commonest, and what we call meanest instance, of 
 the adaptation of man by his Maker to his circum- 
 stances, his duties, his sufferings, and his destiny. 
 This may not be called original genius, perhaps ; we 
 are sorry it is as yet too original ; but in the calm eye 
 of reason and thoughtful goodness, and we may in 
 all reverence add, in the eye of the all-seeing Un- 
 seen, it is something more divinely fair, more to be
 
 Dr. Andrew Combe. 141 
 
 desired and honoured, than much of what is gene- 
 rally called genius. It is something which, if acted 
 upon by ten thousand men and women for five-and- 
 twenty years, with the same simplicity, energy, con- 
 stancy, and intelligence, with which, for half his life- 
 time, it animated Dr. Combe, would so transform 
 the whole face of society, and work such mighty 
 changes in the very substance, so to speak, of human 
 nature, in all its ongoings, as would as much tran- 
 scend the physical marvels and glories of our time, 
 and the progress made thereby in civilisation and 
 human wellbeing, as the heavens are higher than the 
 earth, and as our moral relations, our .conformity to 
 the will and the image of God are more than any ad- 
 vance in mere knowledge and power man's highest 
 exercise and his chief end. We are not so foolish as 
 to think that in recognising the arrangements of this 
 world, and all it contains, as being under God's law, 
 Dr. Combe made a discovery in the common sense of 
 the word ; but we do say that he unfolded the length 
 and breadth, the depth and height of this principle 
 as a practical truth, as a rule of life and duty, beyond 
 any men before him. And thus it was, that though 
 he did not, like the other eminent men we have men- 
 tioned, add formally to the material of knowledge, he 
 observed with his own eyes more clearly, and ex- 
 plained the laws of healthy, and through them, of 
 diseased action, and promulgated their certain re-
 
 142 Dr. Andrew Combe. 
 
 wards and punishments more convincingly than any 
 one else. He made this plainer than other men, to 
 every honest capacity, however humble. He showed 
 that man has an internal, personal activity, implanted 
 in him by his Creator, for preserving or recovering 
 that full measure of soundness, of wholeness, of 
 consentaneous harmonious action, of well-balanced, 
 mutually concurring forces, that ' perfect diapason,' 
 which constitutes health, or wholth, and for the use 
 or abuse of which he, as a rational being, is answer- 
 able on soul and conscience to himself, to his fellow- 
 men, and to his Maker. 
 
 Dr. Combe has so beautifully given his own ac- 
 count of this state and habit of mind and feeling, 
 this principled subjection of everything within him 
 to God's will, as manifested in his works and in his 
 creatures, that we quote it here. 
 
 ' The late Rev. Mr. of stopped me one 
 
 day, to say that he had read my Physiology with 
 great satisfaction, and that what pleased him greatly 
 was the vein of genuine piety which pervaded every 
 page, a piety uncontaminated by cant. Some of my 
 good friends who have considered me a lax observer 
 of the outward forms of piety, might laugh at this. 
 Nevertheless, it gave me pleasure, because in my 
 conscience I felt its truth. There is scarcely a single 
 page in all my three physiological works, in which such 
 a feeling was not active as I wrote. The unvarying
 
 Dr. Andrew Combe. 143 
 
 tendency of my mind is to regard the whole laws of 
 the animal economy, and of the universe, as the 
 direct dictates of the Deity ; and in urging compli- 
 ance with them, it is with the earnestness and reve- 
 rence due to a Divine command that I do it. I almost 
 lose the consciousness of self in the anxiety to attain the 
 end ; and where I see clearly a law of God in our 
 own nature, I rely upon its efficiency for good with a 
 faith and peace which no storm can shake, and feel 
 pity for those who remain blind to its origin, wisdom, 
 and beneficence. I therefore say it solemnly, and 
 with the prospect of death at no distant day, that I 
 experienced great delight, when writing my books, 
 in the consciousness that I was, to the best of my 
 ability, expounding " the ways of God to man," and 
 in so far fulfilling one of the highest objects of human 
 existence. God was, indeed, ever present to my 
 thoughts.' Life, p. 401. 
 
 This was the secret of his power over himself and 
 others He believed and therefore he spake; he 
 could not but speak, and when he did, it was out of 
 the abundance of his heart. Being impressed and 
 moved, he became of necessity impressive and mo- 
 tive. Hence if there be not in his works much of 
 the lightening of genius, resolving error into its con- 
 stituent elements by a stroke, unfolding in one glance 
 both earth and heaven, and bringing out in bright 
 relief some long-hidden truth if he but seldom
 
 144 Dr. Andrew Combe. 
 
 astonish us with the full-voiced thunder of eloquence ; 
 there is in his pages, everywhere pervading them as 
 an essence, that still small voice, powerful but not by 
 its loudness, which finds its way into the deeper 
 and more sacred recesses of our rational nature, and 
 speaks to our highest interests and senses the voice 
 of moral obligation calling us to gratitude and obe- 
 dience. His natural capacity and appetite for know- 
 ledge, his love of first principles, his thoughtful 
 vivacity, his unfeigned active benevolence, his shrewd- 
 ness, his affections, his moral courage and faithfulness, 
 his clear definite ideas, his whole life, his very suffer- 
 ings, sorrows, and regrets, were all, as by a solemn 
 act of his entire nature, consecrated to this one 
 absorbing end. Thus it was that he kept himself 
 alive so long, with a mortal malady haunting him for 
 years, and was enabled to read to others the lessons 
 he had learned for himself in the valley of the shadow 
 of death. 
 
 We have been struck, in reading Dr. Combe's 
 works, and especially his Memoir by his brother, by 
 the resemblance, not merely in principles and rules, 
 and in the point from which they view their relations 
 to their profession, but in more special characteristics 
 of temperament and manner, between him and the 
 illustrious Sydenham, and the still more famous 
 ' divine old man of Cos.' We allude to the continual 
 reference by them to Nature, as a regulating power
 
 Dr. Andrew Combe. 145 
 
 in the human body ; their avoiding speculations as to 
 essence, and keeping to the consideration of conjunct 
 causes ; their regarding themselves as the expounders 
 of a law of life, and the interpreters and ministers of 
 Nature. This one master idea, truly religious in its 
 character, gives to them a steady fervour, a calm per- 
 sistent enthusiasm or ' entheasm ' (Iv and 0eos), which 
 we regret, for the honour and the good of human 
 nature, is too rare in medical literature, ancient or 
 modern. The words ' Nature,' and ' the Almighty,' 
 ' the Supreme Disposer,' etc., occur in Sydenham's 
 works as frequently and with the same reference as 
 they do in Dr. Combe's. 
 
 The following passage from Sydenham, on Nature, 
 will illustrate our meaning : ' I here [in the conclu- 
 sion of his observations on the fever and plague of 
 1665 and 1666] subjoin a short note, lest my opinion 
 of Nature be taken in a wrong sense. In the fore- 
 going discourse, I have made use of the term Nature, 
 and ascribed various effects to her, as I would there- 
 by represent some one self-existent being, everywhere 
 diffused throughout the machine of the universe, 
 which, being endowed with reason, governs and 
 directs all bodies such an one as some philosophers 
 seem to have conceived the soul of the world to be. 
 But I neither affect novelty in my sentiments or ex- 
 pressions ; I have made use of this ancient word in 
 these pages, if I mistake not, in a qualified sense ; 
 K
 
 146 Dr. Andrew Combe. 
 
 for by Nature I always mean a certain assemblage of 
 natural causes, which, though destitute of reason and 
 contrivance, are directed in the wisest manner while 
 they perform their operations and produce their 
 effects ; or, in other words, the Supreme Being, by 
 whose power all things are created and preserved, 
 disposes them all in such manner, by his infinite 
 wisdom, that they proceed to their appointed func- 
 tions with a certain regularity and order, performing 
 nothing in vain, but only what is best and fittest for 
 the whole frame of the universe and their own pecu- 
 liar nature, and so are moved like machines, not by 
 any skill of their own, but by that of the artist.' 
 
 And Hippocrates briefly says, ' Nature in man is 
 the aggregate of all things that concur to perfect health. 
 and the foundation of all right reasoning and practice 
 in physic' J exactly the same great truth which Dr. 
 Combe and Sir John Forbes, thousands of years 
 afterwards, are abused by their brethren for proclaim- 
 ing; and the old Ephesian cry is raised loud and 
 long among the craftsmen, who, like Demetrius and 
 his crew, are less filled with reason than with wrath. 
 
 As we have already said, Dr. Combe was distin- 
 guished neither as a discoverer nor as a practitioner. 
 Owing to feeble health, he was not permitted the 
 opportunity of being the latter, though he possessed 
 some of the highest qualities of a great physician ; 
 1 See Note, p. 161.
 
 Dr. Andrew Combe. 147 
 
 and the evenness of his powers probably would have 
 prevented him from making any one brilliant hit as 
 the former : for it is our notion, for which we have 
 not space here to assign the reasons, that original 
 geniuses in any one department, are almost always 
 odd J that is, are uneven, have some one predomi- 
 nant faculty lording it over the rest. So that, if we 
 look back among the great men in medicine, we 
 would say that Dr. Combe was less like Harvey, or 
 even Sydenham, than Locke, who, though not gene- 
 rally thought so, was quite as much of a physician 
 during his life, as of a philosopher and politician. 
 It was not merely in their deeper constitutional 
 qualities their love of truth, and of the God of 
 truth their tendency towards what was immediately 
 and mainly useful their preferring observation to 
 speculation, but not declining either, as the help and 
 complement of the other; their choosing rather to 
 study the mind or body as a totum quid, a unit, active 
 and executive, and as a means to an end, than to 
 dogmatize and dream about its transcendental con- 
 stitution, or its primary and ultimate condition ; their 
 valuing in themselves, and in others, soundness of 
 
 1 ' We usually say that man is a genius, but he has some 
 whims and oddities. Now, in such a case, we would speak 
 more rationally, did we substitute therefore for hit. He is a 
 genius, therefore he is whimsical.' Dr. John Aitkin. To be 
 sure, it is one thing to have genius, and another to be one, the 
 difference being between possessing, and being possessed by.
 
 148 Dr. Andrew Combe. 
 
 mind and body, above mere strength and quickness ; 
 their dislike to learned phrases, and their attachment 
 to freedom political, religious, and personal it was 
 not merely in these larger and more substantial 
 matters that John Locke and Andrew Combe were 
 alike : they had in their outward circumstances and 
 histories some curious coincidences. 
 
 Both were grave, silent, dark-haired, and tall ; both 
 were unmarried, both were much in the company of 
 women of culture, and had much of their best plea- 
 sure from their society and sympathy, and each had 
 one of the best of her sex to watch over his declin- 
 ing years, and to close his eyes ; to whose lot it fell, 
 in the tender words of Agricola's stern son-in-law 
 ' assidere valetudini, fovere deficientem, satiari vultu, 
 complexu! Moreover, both were educated for medi- 
 cine, but had to relinquish the active practice of it 
 from infirm health, and in each the local malady was 
 in the lungs. Both, by a sort of accident, came in 
 close contact with men in the highest station, and 
 were their advisers and friends we refer to Lord 
 Shaftesbury, and to the Third William and Leopold, 
 two of the wisest and shrewdest of ancient or modern 
 kings. They resided much abroad, and owed, doubt- 
 less, not a little of their largeness of view, and their 
 superiority to prejudice, to having thus seen mankind 
 from many points. Both had to make the art of 
 keeping themselves alive the study of their health
 
 Dr. Andrew Combe. 149 
 
 a daily matter of serious thought, arrangement, and 
 action. They were singularly free from the foibles 
 and prejudices of invalids ; both were quietly humor- 
 ous, playful in their natures, and had warm and deep, 
 but not demonstrative affections ; and to each was 
 given the honour of benefiting their species to a 
 degree, and in a variety of ways, not easily esti- 
 mated. Locke, though he may be wrong in many 
 of his views of the laws and operations of the human 
 mind, did more than any one man ever did before 
 him, to strengthen and rectify, and restore to healthy 
 vigour, the active powers of the mind observation, 
 reason, and judgment ; and of him, the weighty and 
 choice words of Lord Grenville are literally true : 'With 
 Locke commenced the bright era of a new philosophy, 
 which, whatever were still its imperfections, had for 
 its basis clear and determinate conceptions ; free inquiry 
 and unbiassed reason for its instruments, and for its 
 end truth, truth unsophisticated and undisguised, 
 shedding its pure light over every proper object of 
 the human understanding, but confining itself with 
 reverential awe within those bounds which an all-wise 
 Creator has set to our inquiries.' While, on the 
 other hand, Dr. Combe, making the body of man his 
 chief study, did for it what Locke did for the mind ; 
 he explained the laws of physiology, rather than the 
 structure of the organs ; he was more bent upon 
 mastering the dynamics than the statics of health and
 
 150 Dr. Andrew Combe. 
 
 disease ; but we are too near his time, too imperfectly 
 aware of what he has done for us, to be able to 
 appreciate the full measure or quality of the benefit 
 he has bestowed upon us and our posterity, by his 
 simply reducing man to himself bringing him back 
 to the knowledge, the acknowledgment, and the 
 obedience of the laws of his nature. 
 
 Dr. Combe's best-known publications are, his 
 Principles of Physiology applied to Health and Educa- 
 tion, his Physiology of Digestion, and his Treatise on 
 the Physiological and Moral Management of Infancy. 
 The first was the earliest, and is still the best ex- 
 position and application of the laws of health. His 
 Digestion is perhaps the most original of the three. 
 It is not so much taken up as such treatises, how- 
 ever excellent, generally are with what to eat and 
 what not to eat, as with how to eat anything and 
 avoid nothing, how so to regulate the great ruling 
 powers of the body, as to make the stomach do its 
 duty upon whatever that is edible is submitted to it. 
 His book on the Management of Infancy is to us the 
 most delightful of all his works : it has the sim- 
 plicity and mild strength, the richness and vital 
 nutriment of 'the sincere milk' that first and 
 best-cooked food of man. This lactea tibertas per- 
 vades the whole little volume ; and we know of 
 none of Dr. Combe's books in which the references 
 to a superintending Providence, to a Divine Father,
 
 Dr. Andrew Combe. 151 
 
 to a present Deity, to be loved, honoured, and 
 obeyed, are so natural, so impressive, so numerous, 
 and so child-like. His Observations on Mental 
 Derangement have long been out of print. We 
 sincerely trust that Dr. James Coxe, who has so 
 well edited the last edition of his uncle's Physiology, 
 may soon give us a new one of this important work, 
 which carries his principles into an important region 
 of human suffering. Apart altogether from its 
 peculiar interest as an application of Phrenology to 
 the knowledge and cure of Insanity it is, as Dr. 
 Abercrombie, who was not lavish of his praise, 
 said, 'full of sound observation and accurate think- 
 ing, and likely to be very useful.' 
 
 There is, by the by, one of Dr. Combe's papers, 
 not mentioned by his brother, which we remember 
 reading with great satisfaction and profit, and which 
 shows how he carried his common sense, and his 
 desire to be useful, into the minutest arrangements. 
 It appears in Chambers^ Journal for August 30, 
 1834, and is entitled, 'Sending for the Doctor;' 
 we hope to see the nine rules therein laid down, in 
 the next edition of the Life. 
 
 We shall now conclude this curious survey of 
 Dr. Combe's relations, general and direct, to medi- 
 cine, by earnestly recommending the study of his 
 Memoirs to all medical men, young and old, but 
 especially the young. They will get not merely
 
 152 Dr. Andrew Combe. 
 
 much instruction of a general kind, from the con- 
 templation of a character of singular worth, beauty, 
 and usefulness, but they will find lessons every- 
 where, in their own profession, lessons in doctrine 
 and in personal conduct; and they will find the 
 entire history of a patient's life and death, given 
 with a rare fulness, accuracy, and impressiveness ; 
 they will get hints incidentally of how he managed 
 the homeliest and most delicate matters ; how, with 
 order, honesty, and an ardent desire to do good, he 
 accomplished so much, against and in spite of so 
 much. We would, in fine, recommend his letter 
 to Sir James Clark on the importance of Hygiene 
 as a branch of medical education (p. 311); his 
 letter to the same friend on medical education 
 (p. 341), in regard to which we agree with Sir 
 James, that the medical student cannot have a 
 better guide during the progress of his studies ; a 
 letter on the state of medical science (p. 400) ; 
 his remarks on the qualifications for the super- 
 intendent of a lunatic asylum ; and, at p. 468, 
 on scepticism on the subject of medical science. 
 These, and his three admirable letters to Dr. 
 Forbes, would make a choice little book. We 
 conclude with a few extracts taken from these 
 papers at random. It would be difficult to put 
 more truth on their subjects into better words. 
 
 'I have always attached much less importance
 
 Dr. Andrew Combe. 153 
 
 than is usually done, to the abstract possibility or 
 impossibility of finishing the compulsory part of 
 professional education, within a given time, and 
 have long thought that more harm than good has 
 been done by fixing too early a limit The intelli- 
 gent exercise of medicine requires not only a greater 
 extent of scientific and general attainments, but also 
 readier comprehensiveness of mind, and greater accu- 
 racy of thinking and maturity of judgment, than 
 perhaps any other profession ; and these are qualities 
 rarely to be met with in .early youth. So generally 
 is this felt to be the case, that it is an all but uni- 
 versal practice for those who are really devoted to 
 the profession, to continue their studies for two or 
 three years, or even more, after having gone through 
 the prescribed curriculum, and obtained their, diplo- 
 mas ; and those only follow a different course who 
 are pressed by necessity to encounter the responsi- 
 bilities of practice, whether satisfied or not with 
 their own qualifications; and if this be the case, 
 does it not amount to a virtual recognition, that 
 the period now assigned by the curriculum is too 
 short, and ought to be extended? In point of fact, 
 this latter period of study is felt by all to be by far 
 the most instructive of the whole, because now the 
 mind is comparatively matured, and able to draw 
 its own inferences from the facts and observations 
 of which it could before make little or no use;
 
 154 D r - Andrew Combe. 
 
 and it is precisely those who enter upon practice too 
 early who are most apt to become routine practi- 
 tioners, and to do the least for the advancement 
 of medicine as a science.' P. 343. 
 
 'The only thing of which I doubt the propriety 
 is, requiring the study of logic and moral philo- 
 sophy at so early an age. For though a young 
 man before eighteen may easily acquire a suffi- 
 cient acquaintance with one or two books on these 
 subjects, such as Whately and Paley, to be able to 
 answer questions readily, I am quite convinced that 
 his doing so will be the result merely of an intel- 
 lectual effort in which memory will be exercised 
 much more than judgment, and that the subjects 
 will not become really useful to him like those 
 which he feels and thoroughly understands, but 
 will slip from him the moment his examination is 
 at an end, and probably leave a distaste for them 
 ever after. To logic, so far as connected with the 
 structure of language, there can be no objection at 
 that age ; but as an abstract branch of science, I 
 regard it, in its proper development, as fit only for 
 a more advanced period of life. The whole basis 
 and superstructure of moral philosophy, too, imply 
 for their appreciation a practical knowledge of 
 human nature, and of man's position in society, 
 of his proper aims and duties, and of his political 
 situation, which it is impossible for a mere youth
 
 Dr. Andrew Combe. 155 
 
 to possess; and, in the absence of acquaintance 
 with, and interest in the real subjects, to train the 
 mind to the use of words and phrases descriptive of 
 them (but, to him, without correct meaning) is 
 likely to be more injurious than beneficial. A man 
 must have seen and felt some of the perplexities of 
 his destiny, and begun to reflect upon them in his 
 own mind, before he can take an intelligent interest 
 in their discussion. To reason about them sooner, 
 is like reasoning without data; and besides, as the 
 powers of reflection are always the latest in arriving 
 at maturity, we may fairly infer that Nature meant the 
 knowledge and experience to come first.' P. 348. 
 
 Sir William Hamilton, who differs so widely 
 from Dr. Combe in much, agrees with him in 
 this, as may be seen from the following note in 
 his edition of Reid, p. 420. 1 
 
 1 As a corollary of this truth (' Reflection does not appear in 
 children. Of all the powers of the mind, it seems to be of the 
 latest growth, whereas consciousness is coeval with the earliest'), 
 Mr. Stewart makes the following observations, in which he is 
 supported by every competent authority in education. The 
 two northern universities have long withdrawn themselves from 
 the reproach of placing Physics last in their curriculum of arts. 
 In that of Edinburgh, no order is prescribed ; but in St. 
 Andrews and Glasgow, the class of Physics still stands after 
 those of mental philosophy. This absurdity is, it is to be ob- 
 served, altogether of a modern introduction. For, when our 
 Scottish universities were founded, and long after, the philo- 
 sophy of mind was taught by the professor of physics. ' I ap- 
 prehend,' says Mr. Stewart, 'that the study of the mind should 
 form the last branch of the education of youth ; an order which
 
 156 Dr. Andrew Combe. 
 
 'If there is one fault greater than another, and 
 one source of error more prolific than another, in 
 medical investigations, it is the absence of a consis- 
 tent and philosophic mode of proceeding ; and no 
 greater boon could be conferred upon medicine, as a 
 science, than to render its cultivators familiar ivith 
 the laws or principles by which inquiry ought to be 
 directed. I therefore regard what I should term a 
 system of Medical Logic as of inestimable value in 
 the education of the practitioner ; but I think that 
 the proper time for it would be after the student 
 had acquired a competent extent of knowledge, and 
 a certain maturity of mind.' P. 350. 
 
 Nature herself seems to point out, by what I have already re- 
 marked with respect to the development of our faculties. After 
 the understanding is well stored with particular facts, and has 
 been conversant with particular scientific pursuits, it will be 
 enabled to speculate concerning its own powers with additional 
 advantage, and will run no hazard in indulging too far in such 
 inquiries. Nothing can be more absurd, on this as well as 
 on many other accounts, than the common practice which is 
 followed in our universities [in some only], of beginning a course 
 of philosophical education with the study of logic. If this order 
 were completely reversed ; and if the study of logic were delayed 
 till after the mind of the student was well stored with particular 
 facts in physics, in chemistry, in natural and civil history, his 
 attention might be led with the most important advantage, and 
 without any danger to his power of observation, to an examina- 
 tion of his own faculties, which, besides opening to him a new 
 and pleasing field of speculation, would enable him to form an 
 estimate of his own powers, of the acquisitions he has made, of 
 the habits he has formed, and of the further improvements of 
 which his mind is susceptible.' H.
 
 Dr. Andrew Combe. 157 
 
 'The one great object ought to be the due 
 qualification of the practitioner; and whatever will 
 contribute to that end ought to be retained, whether 
 it may happen to agree with or differ from the curii- 
 cula of other universities or licensing bodies. The 
 sooner one uniform system of education and equality of 
 privileges prevails throughout the kingdom, the better 
 for all parties' P. 359. 
 
 ' The longer I live, the more I am convinced that 
 medical education is too limited and too hurried, 
 rather than too extended; for, after all, four years 
 is but a short time for a mind still immature to be 
 occupied in mastering and digesting so many sub- 
 jects and so many details. Instead of the curriculum 
 being curtailed, however, I feel assured that ulti- 
 mately the period of study will be extended. Sup- 
 posing a young man to be engaged in the acquisition 
 of knowledge and experience till the age of twenty- 
 three instead of twenty-one, can it be said that he 
 will then be too old for entering upon independent 
 practice 1 or that his mind is even then fully matured, 
 or his stock of knowledge such as to inspire full 
 confidence? It is in vain to say that young men 
 will not enter the profession if these additions are 
 made. The result would inevitably be to attract a 
 higher class of minds, and to raise the character of 
 the whole profession.' P. 360. 
 
 ' The bane of medicine and of medical education at
 
 158 Dr. Andrew Combe. 
 
 present is its partial and limited scope. Branches of 
 knowledge, valuable in themselves, are studied almost 
 always separately, and without relation to their general 
 bearing upon the one grand object of the medical 
 art, viz., the healthy working or restoration of the 
 whole bodily and mental functions. We have abun- 
 dance of courses of lectures on all sorts of subjects, 
 but are nowhere taught to group their results into 
 practical masses or principles. The higher faculties 
 of the professional mind are thus left in a great mea- 
 sure unexercised. The limited and exclusive know- 
 ledge of the observing powers is alone sought after, 
 and an irrational experience is substituted for that 
 which alone is safe, because comprehensive and true 
 in spirit. The mind thus exercised "within narrow 
 limits, becomes narrowed and occupied with small 
 things. Small feelings follow, and the natural result 
 is that place in public estimation which narrow-minded- 
 ness and cleverness in small things deserve. The pro- 
 fession seeks to put down quacks, to obtain medical 
 reform by Act of Parliament, and to acquire public 
 influence ; and a spirit is now active which will bring 
 forth good fruit in due time. An Act of Parliament 
 can remedy many absurdities connected with the pri- 
 vileges of old colleges and corporations, and greatly 
 facilitate improvement ; but the grand reform must 
 come from within, and requires no Act to legalize its 
 appearance. Let the profession cultivate their art in
 
 Dr. Andrew Combe. 159 
 
 a liberal and comprehensive spirit, and give evidence 
 of the predominance of the scientific over the trade- 
 like feeling, and the public will no longer withhold 
 their respect or deny their influence.' P. 400. 
 
 ' If you ask, Why did not God effect his aim with- 
 out inflicting pain or suffering on any of us ? That 
 just opens up the question, Why did God see fit to 
 make man, man, and not an angel 1 I can see why 
 a watchmaker makes a watch here and a clock there, 
 because my faculties and nature are on a par with 
 the watchmaker's ; but to understand why God made 
 man what he is, I must have the faculties and com- 
 prehension of the Divine Being ; or, in other words, 
 the creature must be the equal of the Creator in in- 
 tellect before he can understand the cause of his own 
 original formation. Into that, therefore, I am quite 
 contented not to inquire.' P. 403. 
 
 ' I should say that the province of Hygiene is to 
 examine the relations existing between the human 
 constitution on the one hand, and the various exter- 
 nal objects or influences by which it is surrounded 
 on the other ; and to deduce, from that examination, 
 the principles or rules by which the highest health 
 and efficiency of all our functions, moral, intellectual, 
 and corporeal, may be most certainly secured, and 
 by obedience to which we may, when once diseased, 
 most speedily and safely regain our health. But per- 
 haps the true nature of Hygiene will be best ex-
 
 160 Dr. Andrew Combe. 
 
 hibited by contrasting what at present is taught, with 
 what we require at the bedside of the patient, and yet 
 are left to pick up at random in the best way we can.' 
 P. 312. 
 
 ' Hygie'ne, according to my view, really forms the 
 connecting link by which all the branches of profes- 
 sional knowledge are bound together, and rendered 
 available in promoting human health and happiness ; 
 and, in one sense, is consequently the most important 
 subject for a course of lectures, although very oddly 
 almost the only one which has not been taught sys- 
 tematically ; and I consider the absence of the con- 
 necting principle as the main cause why medicine has 
 advanced so slowly, and still assumes so little of the 
 aspect of a certain science, notwithstanding all the 
 talent, time, and labour devoted to its cultivation.' 
 P. 319.
 
 Dr. Andrew Combe. 161 
 
 NOTE. P. 146. 
 
 VIS MEDICATRIX NATURE. 
 
 DR. ADAMS, in his Preliminary Discourse to the Sydenham 
 Society's Edition of the Genuine Works of Hippocrates, trans- 
 lated and annotated by him a work, as full of the best common 
 sense and judgment, as it is of the best learning and scholarship 
 has the following passage : 
 
 ' Above all others, Hippocrates was strictly the physician of 
 experience and common sense. In short, the basis of his 
 system was a rational experience, and not a blind empiricism, 
 so that the Empirics in after ages had no good grounds for 
 claiming him as belonging to their sect. 
 
 ' One of the most distinguishing characteristics, then, of the 
 Hippocratic system of medicine, is the importance attached in 
 it to prognosis, under which was comprehended a complete ac- 
 quaintance with the previous and present condition of the 
 patient, and the tendency of the disease. To the overstrained 
 system of Diagnosis practised in the school of Cnidos, agreeably 
 to which diseases were divided and subdivided arbitrarily into 
 endless varieties, Hippocrates was decidedly opposed ; his own 
 strong sense and high intellectual cultivation having, no doubt, 
 led him to the discovery, that to accidental varieties of diseased 
 action there is no limit, and that what is indefinite cannot be re- 
 duced to science. 
 
 ' Nothing strikes one as a stronger proof of his nobility of 
 soul, when we take into account the early period in human 
 cultivation at which he lived, and his descent from a priestly 
 order, than the contempt which he everywhere expresses for 
 ostentatious charlatanry, and his perfect freedom from all
 
 1 62 Dr. Andrew Combe. 
 
 popular superstition. 1 Of amulets and complicated machines 
 to impose on the credulity of the ignorant multitude, there is no 
 mention in any part of his works. All diseases he traces to 
 natural causes, and counts it impiety to maintain that any one 
 more than another is an infliction from the Divinity. How 
 strikingly the Hippocratic system differs from that of all other 
 nations in their infantine state, must be well known to every 
 person who is well acquainted with the early history of medi- 
 cine. His theory of medicine was further based on the physical 
 philosophy of the ancients, more especially on the doctrines 
 then held regarding the elements of things, and the belief in the 
 existence of a spiritual essence diffused through the whole works 
 of creation, which was regarded as the agent that presides over 
 the acts of generation, and which constantly strives to preserve 
 all things in their natural state, and to restore them when they 
 are preternaturally deranged. This is the principle which he 
 called Nature, and which he held to be a vis medicatrix. 
 "Nature," says he, or at least one of his immediate followers 
 says, " is the physician of diseases." ' 
 
 STAHL, in one of his numerous short occasional Tracts, 
 ScheJiasmata, as he calls them, in which his deep and fiery 
 nature was constantly finding vent, thus opens on the doctrine 
 of ' Nature,' as held by the ancients. Besides the thought, it is 
 
 1 ' This is the more remarkable, as it does not appear to have been the 
 established creed of the greatest literary men and philosophers of the age, 
 who still adhered, or professed to adhere, to the popular belief in the 
 extraordinary interference of the gods with the works of Nature and the 
 affairs of m-nkind. This, at least, was remarkably the case with Socrates, 
 whose mind, like that of most men who make a great impression on the 
 religious feelings of their age, had evidently a deep tinge of mysticism. 
 See Xenoph. Memor. \. i. 6-9 ; Ibid. iv. 7. 7 ; also Grote's History of 
 Greece, vol i. p. 499. The latter remarks, " Physical and astronomical 
 phenomena are classified by Socrates among the divine class, interdicted 
 to human study." (Mem. i. i. 13.) He adds, in reference to Hippo- 
 crates, " On the other hand, Hippocrates, the contemporary of Socrates, 
 denied the discrepancy, and merged into one the two classes of phe- 
 nomenathe divine and the scientifically determinable which the latter 
 had put asunder. Hippocrates treated all phenomena as at once both 
 Jivine and scientifically determinable.' '
 
 Dr. Andrew Combe. 163 
 
 a good specimen of this great man's abrupt, impetuous, preg- 
 nant, and difficult expressions : 
 
 ' Notanter Hippocrates 6. Epidem. 5. 'Aircu'Sevros ^ <f>tj<ris 
 tovffa /ecu ov (j.a.6ov<ra, TO, Stoira iroitfi. Cum a nullo informata 
 sit NATURA, neque quicqiiam didicerit, ea tamen, quibus opus est, 
 efficit. Efficere et operari, dicit ; neque incongrua et aliena, sed 
 quae necasaria sint, quse conveniant : Operari autem ipsam per 
 se, non ex consilio (intellige, alieno) lin. praeced. monet. Effec- 
 tivuni hoc & operativum Principium, ri]v <pii<nv, appellat, rb 
 S-qfuovpyiicbv r)/j,Qv atriov circumscribit Galen, de Placit. Hipp. $F 
 Platan. L 9. hunc eundem locum attingens. De hac Natura 
 prolixius idem Galenus lib. de Natur. facult. assent, quod ilia, 
 sitis viribus usa, qua noxia surtt, expellere noverit, qua utilia, 
 ttsiii sert'are. Quod idem et lib. i. cap. s. de diff, Febb. repetit. 
 Sapientissimam ipsam esse, itidem adstruit lib. de arte. Et 
 oinnia facere salulis homimim causa, in Comm. ad nostrum 
 locum interpretatur. Neque hoc tantum de statu Corporis 
 Ilumani trattquillo, et sibi constante, intelligendum, sed monent 
 etiam iidem, Naturam hactenus dictam, consulere corpori in 
 dubiis rebus, ingruente nocumentorum periculo, imo actuales, 
 noxas illatas, ita depellere, corrigere, exterminare, resarcire, ut 
 propterea Hippocrates, paulo ante sententiam hactenus citatam, 
 diserte affirmet, Naturam mederi morbis. In quam ipsam 
 assertionem, ut satis fuse consentit Galenus, ita notabilia sunt 
 ejus verba, quod Natura ma him sentiens, gestiat magnopere 
 mederi. Et Corn. CJstis, lib. 3. c. i. Repugnante Natura, ait, 
 nihil proficit Medicina. Imo nee deficiente eadem, ut Hipp. lib. 
 de arte monet, quicquam obtinet Medica ars, sed perit ceger. 
 Dies deliciat, neque haec charta capiat, si plerosque tantum, qui 
 comparent, testes Medicos Practices scriptores, citare liberet. 
 Nimirum QUOD tale Actrvum et Effectivum, Gubernans, dirigens, 
 regens, Principium in Corpore Vivo prsesto sit, tarn in statu sano 
 quam concusso, agens, vigilans, propugnans, omnes agnoscunt. 
 
 ' Ut undique NATURA, hoc sensu, ut Effectivum quoddam, 
 et quidem icvptus tale, Principium asseratur, quod, arbitrarie, 
 agere non agere, recte aut perperam Organa sua actuare, iisque 
 non magis uti, quam abuti queat. 
 
 ' Adornarunt hanc Doctrinse Medicse partem complures, turn
 
 164 Dr. Andrew Combe. 
 
 Antiquiores, turn propiornm temporum Doctores, sed non eodem 
 omnes successu, nee forte eadem intentione. Prolixiores fuer- 
 unt Veteres, in illis dvvd/j.e<riv, als SioKi/cetrat r6 fwoy, ut ipsam 
 <f>vaiv Hippocratis describit Galenus lib. de Crisibus, et 1. 5. de 
 Sympt. Caus. Facidtatem Corporis noslri Rectricem optima jure 
 Natures nomine insigniendam, decernit. Sed inundavit hinc 
 Facultatim variarum, congeries, & omnem Physiologies anti- 
 quioris paginam ade6 absolvit, ut nihil offenderetur, quam merae 
 Facilitates, Vitalis, Natural is, Animalis, Genitalis, Rationalis, 
 Expultrix, Relentrix, Attractrix, Locomotrix, Coctrix, Excrcttix, 
 Sanguifica, Chylifica, &c. &c.' 
 
 To the Homoeopathic delusion, or shall we call it 'persuasion,' 
 whose chief merit and mischief it is to be ' not anything so much 
 as a nothing which looks like a something, ' we owe the recogni- 
 tion, in a much more practical way than before, of the self- 
 regulating principle in living bodies the physician inside the 
 skin. It is hardly necessary to state, that the best modern 
 exposition of this doctrine, and its relation to therapeutics, is to 
 be found in SIR JOHN FORBES' courageous, thoughtful, and 
 singularly candid little book, Art and Nature in the Cure of 
 Disease. 
 
 Many years ago, a countryman called on a physician in York. 
 He was in the depths of dyspeptic despair, as often happens 
 with the chawbacons. The doctor gave him some plain advice 
 as to his food, making a thorough change, and ended by writing 
 a prescription for some tonic, saying, ' Take that, and come 
 back in a fortnight.' In ten day Giles came in, blooming and 
 happy, quite well. The doctor was delighted, and not a little 
 proud of his skill. He asked to see what he had given him. 
 Giles said he hadn't got it. ' Where was it ? ' 'I took it, Sir. ' 
 ' Took it ! what have you done with it ? ' 'I ate it, Sir ! you 
 told me to take it ! ' We once told this little story to a Homoeo- 
 pathic friend, adding, ' Perhaps you think the iron in the ink 
 may be credited with the cure ? ' ' Well,' said my much-believ- 
 ing friend, 'there is no saying.' No saying, indeed! and no 
 thinking either ! such matters lie at least in the region of the 
 non-knowable.
 
 DR. HENRY MARSHALL AND 
 MILITARY HYGIENE. 
 
 ' To labour diligently, and to be content J says the son of Sirach, 
 ' is a sweet life.' 
 
 ' My greatest delight has been to promote a melioration of the 
 condition of soldiers, and in the prosecution of this important object, 
 I hope 1 have done some good.'' DR. MARSHALL.
 
 DR. HENRY MARSHALL AND 
 MILITARY HYGIENE. 
 
 '"TWENTY-FIVE years ago, the British soldier 
 (taking ninety-nine out of a hundred) was a man 
 who, when in the eye of the law a minor, had in a 
 fit of passion, or when drunk, or from idleness, want, 
 or to avoid civil punishment, sold his personal liberty, 
 his life in one word, himself to the State without 
 reservation. In return for this, he got a bounty of 
 ^3, IDS., which was taken back as soon as he was 
 attested, to pay for his outfit his kit, as it is called, 
 and he enjoyed an annuity of is. id. a day, out of 
 which, after paying his share of the mess, his shoes, 
 etc., there remained of daily surplus about 3d. The 
 State provided lodging and medical attendance, and 
 the name, but little else, of religious and general edu- 
 cation. In return, he put his will in the hands of 
 the State, and was bound, at any time, and upon any 
 ground, to destroy any other man's life, or lose his
 
 1 68 Dr. Marshall 
 
 own, at the word of command. 1 He was, as rapidly 
 as possible, drilled into that perfect man-slaying in- 
 strument, that consummate destroyer, that we and 
 our enemies know him to be. And having no hope, 
 no self-respect, no spiritual progression, nothing to 
 look forward to, he sank into the sullen, stupid, in- 
 domitable human bull-dog. He lived in hopeless 
 celibacy, shut out from the influence of any but the 
 worst of the other sex. He became proverbially 
 drunken, licentious, and profane. He knew his 
 officer only to obey him, and often to hate and de- 
 spise him. Memory and hope died within him ; for 
 what had he to remember but his own early follies 
 and fatal enlistment, or to anticipate but the chances 
 
 1 Every one knows Herr Diogenes Teufelsdrock's account of 
 this in that fantastic and delightful book Sartor Resartus : 
 ' What, speaking in quite unofficial language, is the net purport 
 and upshot of soldiers and of war ? To my own knowledge, for 
 example, there dwell and toil in the British village of Drum- 
 drudge, usually some five hundred souls. From these, by 
 certain "natural enemies of the French, there are necessarily 
 selected, during the French war, say thirty able-bodied men. 
 Drumdrudge, at her own expense, has suckled and nursed 
 them ; she has, not without difficulty and sorrow, fed them up 
 to manhood, and even trained them to crafts, so that one can 
 weave, and another build, another hammer or stitch, and the 
 weakest can stand under thirty pounds avoirdupois. Neverthe- 
 less, amid much weeping and swearing, they are selected, all 
 dressed in red, and shipped away at the public charges, some 
 two thousand miles, or say only to the south of Spain, and fed 
 and scourged there till wanted. And now to that same spot in 
 the south of Spain are thirty French handicraftsmen from a
 
 and Military Hygiene. 1 69 
 
 of his being killed, or dying wretchedly of disease, or 
 being turned off a stupid, .helpless, and friendless old 
 man 1 No wonder that he was, as is proved by the 
 greater frequency of suicide in military than in civil 
 life, more miserable and less careful of himself than 
 other men. His daily routine was somewhat as 
 follows : He was drummed out of bed at five o'clock, 
 his room being a large common dormitory, where 
 three or four blackguards might make all the rest 
 comfortless and silent He rushed out of doors to 
 the pump, and washed himself out of his hands, 
 there being no basin provided for him, as he best 
 could, and went to drill; breakfasted substantially, 
 then out to parade, where he must be in proper trim, 
 pipe-clay immaculate ; then through the everlasting 
 
 French Drumdrudge, in like manner wending ; till at length, 
 after infinite effort and expense, the two parties actually meet, 
 and thirty stand confronting thirty, each with a gun in his hand. 
 Straightway the word " fire" is given, and they blow the souls 
 out of one another ; and in place of sixty brisk, useful workmen, 
 the world has sixty dead carcasses which it must bury, and anew 
 shed tears for. Had these men any quarrel? Busy as the 
 devil is, not the smallest ; they lived far enough apart, nay, in 
 so wide a world, there was even unconsciously, by commerce, 
 some mutual helpfulness between them. How then ? Simple- 
 ton ! Their governors had fallen out, and instead of shooting 
 one another, had the cunning to make their poor blockheads 
 shoot. In that fiction of the English Smollett, it is true, the 
 final cessation of war is perhaps prophetically shadowed forth 
 when the "two natural enemies " (France and Britain) in person 
 take each a tobacco-pipe filled with brimstone, light the smae, 
 and smoke in each other's faces till one or both give in.'
 
 i 70 Dr. Marshall 
 
 round of ' Attention ! Eyes right ! Stand at ease,' 
 etc. Dinner at one o'clock, of broth and boiled 
 meat, and after that nothing to do till nine at night, 
 or to eat till breakfast next morning. 
 
 Can there be any wonder that the subjects of this 
 system became so often drunkards, and ran into all 
 sorts of low dissipation, ruining themselves, soul and 
 body? Much of this evil is of course inherent and 
 necessary ; it is founded in the constitution of man 
 that such should be, in the main, the result of such 
 an unnatural state of things. But within these five- 
 and-twenty years there have been numerous improve- 
 ments. The soldier is now a freer, happier, healthier 
 man, more intelligent and moral, and certainly not 
 less efficient than he ever was since the institution of 
 a standing army. 
 
 In an admirable speech in February last, when 
 moving the estimates for the army, Mr. Sidney Her- 
 bert made the following remark : ' He did not 
 believe that at any period had the soldier been more 
 comfortable than at the present moment ;' he might 
 safely have said as comfortable as at the present 
 moment. After showing that, by strict and con- 
 tinuous vigilance in this department, in eighteen years, 
 since 1835, 'the pattern year of economy,' there had 
 been a reduction of ^132,766, as compared with the 
 estimate of that year, while, for the smaller sum, we 
 maintained 21,000 men more, the cost of each man
 
 and Military Hygiene. \ 7 1 
 
 being 42, 153. nd. in 1835, anc ^ in the present year 
 ^40, 35. 6d., ;io of this being for the cost of the 
 officers, making the expense of each private ^30, 
 35. 6d. ; after making this exposition of the greater 
 economy in the production and maintenance of our 
 soldiers, Mr. Herbert went on to show that this had 
 been effected not only without in any way curtailing 
 their comforts, but with an immense increase in their 
 material and moral wellbeing. We shall mention 
 some of the more marked causes and proofs of this 
 gratifying and remarkable improvement in the condi- 
 tion of the army, as regards the intelligence, morality, 
 health, and general condition of the common soldier. 
 
 ist, The Good-Conduct Pay has been increased to 
 ^65,000 a year. Formerly, every man got an in- 
 crease of pay for long service ; now he gets id. a day 
 added to his pay at the end of every five years it 
 was at first seven provided he has been clear of the 
 defaulter's books for two years, and he carries one- 
 half of it to his pension, in addition to the amount he 
 is entitled to for length of service. This scheme is 
 working well 
 
 zd, Barrack Libraries have been instituted, and 
 with signal benefit. There are now 150 libraries, 
 with 117,000 volumes, and 16,000 subscribers, the 
 men giving a penny a month. 
 
 3</, Regimental Schools, remodelled by Mr. Her- 
 bert, whose plans were excellently carried out by
 
 172 Dr. Marshall 
 
 Lord Panmure. After encountering much prejudice 
 and objection, this plan is going on prosperously. 
 There are now employed with different corps, sixty, 
 trained masters and sixteen assistants, a class of men 
 very different from the old schoolmaster-sergeant. In 
 the 77th Regiment, the school-roll amounts to 538 
 adults; the 35th, to 371; the Sad, to 270. This 
 attendance is voluntary, and is paid for; the only 
 compulsory attendance being in the case of recruits, 
 so long as drilling lasts. 
 
 4th, Savings 1 Banks, established in 1844. In 1852, 
 the number of depositors was 9447 ; the amount de- 
 posited, ; 1 1 1, 9 20. 
 
 $th, Diminution of Punishments. In 1838, the 
 number of corporal punishments was 879; in 1851, 
 206; and in 1852 the return being for the troops 
 at home, and half the force on foreign stations 
 they were as low as 96, and all this without the 
 slightest relaxation of discipline. In 1838, the num- 
 ber of persons tried by courts-martial was in propor- 
 tion to the entire effective force as i in n|. Now, 
 it is only i in 16. 
 
 6th, Increased Longevity. There never were so 
 few deaths 'per annum as at present. At the Mau-" 
 ritius and Ceylon the mortality has fallen from 43 T 'fr 
 to 22 j per 1000 nearly one-half; and at Hong- 
 Kong, too famous for its deadly climate, more than 
 one-half 150 to 69 ; while, in the East and West
 
 and Military Hygiene. 1 73 
 
 Indies and the Cape, in spite of pestilence and war, 
 the diminution of deaths is most strongly marked. 
 Add to all this, that unlimited service the legal 
 sanction of a man selling himself for life no longer 
 exists, having been abolished in 1847 thanks to 
 Lord Panmure's courage and wisdom ; and we have 
 an amount of misery, degradation, and crime pre- 
 vented, and of comfort, health, and workmanlike 
 efficiency gained, which it would be no easy matter 
 to estimate at its full value and degree. In the case 
 of such an immense public benefit, it is well to do 
 our best to discover in what quarter, and in what 
 measure, as a nation, whom all this concerns so 
 deeply, our gratitude and praise are due. To what, 
 and to whom, do we owe all this 1 
 
 The what is not far to seek. Under God, we owe 
 this change for the better, like so many others which 
 we are enjoying and forgetting, to that mighty agent 
 which is in our day doing such wonders, and which 
 will yet do more and greater the spirit of the age 
 public opinion of which, when so manifestly working 
 out the highest interests of man, we may condition- 
 ally, and with reverence, say, in the words of 'the 
 Book of Wisdom,' that it is the very breath of the 
 power of God an understanding spirit kind to 
 man, ready to do good, one only, yet manifold, not 
 subject to hurt, which cannot be letted.' This great 
 social element, viewless, impalpable, inevitable, un-
 
 \ 
 
 1 7 4. Dr. Marshall 
 
 tamable as the wind ; vital, elastic, all-penetrating, 
 all-encompassing as the air we breathe, the very soul 
 of the body politic, is like the great laws of nature 
 of which, indeed, it is itself one for ever at its 
 work; and like its Divine Author and Guide goes 
 about continually doing good. Without it, what 
 could any man, any government, do for the real 
 good of mankind 1 It cannot be letted. If you are 
 against it, get out of its way as you best can, and 
 stand aside and wonder at its victorious march. But 
 why not rather go with it, and by it? This is that 
 tide in the affairs of men a Deo ad Deum that 
 onward movement of the race in knowledge, in 
 power, in worth, and in happiness, which has glad- 
 dened and cheered all who believe, and who, 
 through long ages of gloom, and misery, and havoc, 
 have still believed that truth is strong, "next to the 
 Almighty that goodness is the law of His universe, 
 and happiness its end, and who have faith in 
 
 ' That God which ever lives and loves, 
 One God, one law, one element, 
 And one far-off Divine event, 
 To which the whole creation moves.' 
 
 It is a tide that has never turned ; unlike the poet's, 
 it answers the behest of no waning and waxing orb, 
 it follows the eye of Him who is without variable- 
 ness or the shadow of turning. And no man has 
 yet taken it at its flood. It has its flux and reflux,
 
 and Military Hygune. 175 
 
 its ebb and flow, its darkness and its bright light, its 
 storm and calm ; and, as a child who watched the 
 rising tide, and saw the wave in the act of with- 
 drawing itself, might, if it saw no more, say the sea 
 was retreating, so with the world's progress in 
 liberty, happiness, and virtue ; some may think its 
 best is over, its fulness past, its ebb far on ; but let 
 the child look again let the patriot be of good cheer, 
 and watch for the next wave, it may be a ninth, 
 curling his monstrous head and hanging it how it 
 sweeps higher up the beach, tosses aside as very 
 little things, into ruin and oblivion, or passes clear 
 over them, the rocks and the noisy bulwarks of 
 man's device, which had for long fretted and turned 
 aside and baffled all former waves ; and to the his- 
 toric eye, these once formidable barriers may be seen 
 far down in the clear waters, undisturbing and undis- 
 turbed the deep covering them, it may be seen 
 what they really were, how little or how big. If our 
 readers wish to imagine how the power of public 
 opinion, this tide of time, deals with its enemies and 
 with its friends how it settles its quarrels and attains 
 its ends, and how, all at once and unexpectedly, it 
 may be seen flowing in, without let or hindrance, 
 
 ' Whispering how meek and gentle it can be,' 
 let him go down to the sea-shore, and watch the 
 rising tide, coming on lazily at first, as if without 
 aim or pith, turned aside by any rock, going round
 
 176 Dr. Marshall 
 
 it, covering it by and by, swayed and troubled by 
 every wind, shadowed by every passing cloud, as if 
 it were the ficklest of all things, and had no mind of 
 its own ; he will, however, notice, if he stays long 
 enough, that there is one thing it is always doing, the 
 one thing it most assuredly will do, and that is, to 
 move on and up, to deepen and extend. So is it 
 with the advance of truth and goodness over our 
 world. Whatever appearances may be, let us rest 
 assured the tide is making, and is on its way to its 
 fulness. 
 
 We are aware that in speaking of such matters, 
 it is not easy to avoid exaggeration both in thought 
 and expression ; but we may go wrong, not less by 
 feeling and speaking too little, than by feeling and 
 speaking too much. It is profane and foolish to 
 deify public opinion, or, indeed, anything ; but it 
 is not right, it is not safe to err on the other side, to 
 ignore and vilipend. In one sense, public opinion 
 is a very commonplace subject ; in another, it is one 
 of the chiefest of the ways of God, one of the most 
 signal instruments in his hand, for moving on to 
 their consummation his undisturbed affairs. There 
 never was a time in the world's history, and there 
 never was a nation, in which this mighty agent made 
 head as it is doing now, and in ours. Everywhere 
 and over every department of human suffering and 
 need, it is to be found arising with healing under its
 
 and Military Hygiene. 1 77 
 
 wings. That it goes wrong and does wrong is merely 
 to say that it works by human means ; but that in the 
 main it is on the right road and on the right errand, 
 and that thus far it is Divine, and has in it the very 
 breath of the power of God, no man surely who 
 discerns the times and the seasons will deny ; to use 
 the eloquent words of Maurice : ' In a civilized 
 country above all, in one which possesses a free 
 press there is a certain power, mysterious and in- 
 definite in its operations, but producing the most 
 obvious and mighty effects, which we call public 
 opinion. It is vague, indefinite, intangible enough, 
 no doubt ; but is not that the case with all the 
 powers which affect us most in the physical world ? 
 The further men advance in the study of nature, the 
 more these incontrollable, invincible forces make 
 themselves known. If we think with some of mys- 
 terious affinities, of some one mighty principle which 
 binds the elements of the universe together, why 
 should we not wonder, also, at these moral affinities, 
 this more subtle magnetism, which bears witness that 
 every man is connected by the most intimate bonds 
 with his neighbour, and that no one can live inde- 
 pendently of another V 
 
 We believe that in the future, and it may be not 
 very far-off history of our world, this associative 
 principle, this attractive, quickening power, is des- 
 tined to work wonders in its own region, to which 
 M
 
 1 78 Dr. Marshall 
 
 the marvels of physical science in our days will be 
 as nothing. Society, as a great normal institute of 
 human nature, is a power whose capacities in its own 
 proper sphere of action, such as it now exhibits, or 
 has ever exhibited, and such as it is destined here- 
 after to exhibit, are to each other as is the weight, 
 the momentum of a drop of water, to the energy of 
 that drop converted into steam and compressed and 
 set a-working. We believe this will be one of the 
 crowning discoveries and glories of our race, about 
 which, as usual, we have been long enough, and of 
 which, when it comes, every one will say, ' How did 
 we never discover that before ? how easy ; how 
 simple ! ' Society is of the essence of unfallen man ; 
 it is normal ; it preceded and will survive the loss 
 of Eden ; it belongs to the physiology of human 
 nature. Government, be it of the best, must always 
 have to do (and the more strictly the better) with its 
 pathology with its fall. Were original sin abolished 
 to-morrow, the necessity, the very materials of Govern- 
 ment would cease. Society and all her immense 
 capabilities would once more be at home, and full 
 of life, and go on her way rejoicing. Education, reli- 
 gion, and many other things, all belong by right and 
 by natural fitness to Society ; and Government has 
 been trying for thousands of years to do her work and 
 its own, and has, as a matter of course, bungled both. 
 But we have less to do at present with this wonder-
 
 and Military Hygiene. 1 79 
 
 working power, than with those who were the first 
 to direct and avail themselves of it, for forwarding 
 and securing the welfare of the common soldier 
 who had been so long shut out from its bene- 
 ficent impulse. 
 
 These men, simple-minded, public-hearted, indus- 
 trious, resolute, did not work for gratitude they 
 would not have worked the worse, however, with it. 
 They are gone elsewhere, where no gratitude of ours 
 can affect them ; but it is not the less right, and good, 
 and needful for that great creature, the public, to be 
 made to feel this gratitude, and to let it go forth in 
 hearty acknowledgment. This is a state of mind 
 which blesses quite as much him who gives, as him 
 who receives ; and nothing would tend more to keep 
 the public heart right, and the public conscience 
 quick and powerful, than doing our best to discover 
 what we owe, and to whom ; and as members of the 
 body politic, let our affection and admiration take 
 their free course. One of the best signs of our times 
 is the extension, and deepening, and clarifying of 
 this sense of public duty, of our living not for our- 
 selves, of what we owe to those who have served 
 their generation the practical recognition, in a word, 
 not only that we should love our neighbours as our- 
 selves, but that, according to the interpretation of 
 the word reserved for the Divine Teacher, every man 
 is our neighbour.
 
 i8o Dr. Marshall 
 
 The difficulties in the way of any amelioration in 
 the moral condition and bodily comforts of the soldier, 
 must of necessity be great, and all experience con- 
 firms this. A body of men such as, in a country 
 like ours, a standing army with service for life, and 
 pay below the wages of the labouring classes, must 
 unavoidably consist of, is one the reform of which 
 might deter and dishearten any man, and excuse 
 most. How often have we been told that flogging 
 was a necessary evil ; that unlimited service was the 
 stay of the army; that knowledge would make the 
 men discontented, useless, and mischievous ! ' Sol- 
 diers,' said Mr. Pulteney in 1732, 'are a body of 
 men distinct from the body of the people ; they are 
 governed by different laws. Blind obedience is their 
 only principle.' Bruce, in his Institutions of Military 
 Law, 1717, gives what we doubt not was a true 
 account of the composition of European armies in 
 his day : ' If all infamous persons, and such as have 
 committed capital crimes, heretics, atheists, (!) and 
 all dastardly and effeminate men, were weeded out 
 of the army, it would soon be reduced to a pretty 
 moderate number, the greater part of the soldiery 
 being men of so ignoble, disingenuous tempers, that 
 they cannot be made obedient to the allurements of 
 rewards ; nay, coercion being, generally speaking, 
 the surest principle of all vulgar obedience. There 
 is, therefore,' he grimly adds, ' another part of military
 
 and Military Hygiene. 1 8 1 
 
 institution fitted to such men's capacities, and these 
 are the various punishments' (and such a catalogue 
 of horrors !)' 'awarded to their crimes, which, as 
 goads, may drive these brutish creatures who will not 
 be attracted.' ] We are now at last trying the principle 
 of attraction, and are rinding it succeeds here, as 
 it does elsewhere keeping all things sweet and 
 strong, from the majestic ordinances of heaven, to 
 the guidance of a village school. It is too true that 
 Lord Melville in 1808, in his place in the House of 
 Lords, when opposing Mr. Wyndham's most humane 
 and judicious Army Bill, said, i the worst men make 
 the best soldiers;' 1 and if we look back on the history 
 of the army, the degradations, the miseries, and hard- 
 ships of the common soldier, we cannot help inferring 
 that this monstrous dogma had been even improved 
 upon, so as to reduce to their lowest the character- 
 istics of humanity, and resolve his entire nature into 
 a compound of strength and stupidity. With such 
 opinions as Lord Melville's prevailing in civil, and 
 not less in military life, it was no easy matter to set 
 up as a military reformer. If the worst man made 
 the best soldier, it was a contradiction in terms to 
 think of making the man in any degree better. The 
 
 1 This was not the principle of one of the greatest of men 
 and of soldiers. Cicero says of Julius Caesar, there was never 
 an ITO in his commands, but only a VENI, as if he scorned to 
 be less or more than their leader.
 
 1 82 Dr. Marshall 
 
 converse was the logical sequence ; to find the worst 
 man, and by all means make him a worser still. 
 Things are changed, and have been changing ; and 
 that humane spirit, that sense of responsibility as 
 regards the happiness and welfare of our fellow-men 
 on which we have already enlarged, and which is one 
 of the most signal blessings of our time, has pene- 
 trated into this region, and Lord Melville's dogma is 
 in the fair way of being overthrown and reversed. 
 It is now no longer legal for a British subject to sell 
 himself, body and soul, for life. For this we have 
 mainly to thank Lord Panmure, one of the ablest 
 and best secretaries the War Office has ever seen. 
 But while we most heartily acknowledge the great 
 services of Lord Hardinge, Lord Grey, Mr. Ellice, 
 Sir George Arthur, Sir Charles Napier, Colonel Lind- 
 say, Lord Panmure, Mr. Sidney Herbert, and many 
 others, in urging and carrying out all these ameliora- 
 tions and reforms ; and while we cannot easily over- 
 rate the value of the labours of Lieutenant-Colonel 
 Tulloch and Dr. Graham Balfour in working out the 
 vital statistics of the army, and demonstrating their 
 practical bearing on the prevention of misery and 
 crime and death, and the increased comfort and 
 efficiency of the service ; we are, we feel sure, only 
 saying what every one of these public-spirited men 
 will be readiest to confirm, that to the late Dr. Henry 
 Marshall is due the merit of having been the first
 
 and Military Hygiene. \ 8 
 
 in this great field, the sower of the seed the setter 
 agoing of this current of research and reform which 
 has achieved so much. There is not one of these 
 many improvements which he did not, in his own 
 quiet, but steady and unflinching way, argue for, and 
 urge, and commend, and prove, many years before 
 they were acknowledged or taken up by the higher 
 authorities. We find him, when a mere lad, at the 
 Cape, in the beginning of the century, making out 
 tables of the diseases of the soldiers, of the compara- 
 tive health of different stations, and ages, and climates; 
 investigating the relation of degradation, ignorance, 
 crime, and ill-usage, to the efficiency of the army and 
 to its cost ; and from that time to the last day of his 
 life devoting his entire energies to devising and doing 
 good to the common soldier. And all this, to say 
 the least of it, without much assistance from his own 
 department (the medical), till the pleasant time came 
 when the harvest was to be reaped, and the sheaves 
 taken victoriously home. 
 
 'Have you seen Marshall's Miscellany '?' said a 
 friend to Lord Panmure, when he was Secretary at 
 War. 'Seen it!' exclaimed he, 'why, Marshall's 
 book is my Bible in all that relates to the welfare of 
 the soldier.' And it is not less honourable to our 
 late Commander-in-Chief than to Dr. Marshall, that 
 when presented by the author with a copy of this 
 book, his Lordship said, 'Your book should be in
 
 1 84 Dr. Marshall 
 
 the hands of every array surgeon, and in every orderly- 
 room in the service.' Any man who knows what the 
 army is and was, and what the prejudices of the best 
 military men often were, and who has also read 
 thoroughly the work we refer to, and has weighed 
 well all it is for, and all it is against, and all that it 
 proves, will agree with us in saying, that for Lord 
 Hardinge to express, and for Dr. Marshall to deserve, 
 such a compliment, is no small honour to both. 
 
 Dr. Marshall, to have done so much good, made 
 the least noise about it of any public man we ever 
 knew. He was eminently quiet in'all his ways; the 
 very reverse of your loud man ; he made no spas- 
 modic efforts, he did nothing by fits or starts, nothing 
 for effect ; he flowed on incredibili lenitate, with a 
 ceaseless and clear but powerful flow. He was a 
 philosopher without knowing it, and without many 
 others knowing it ; but, if to trace effects up to their 
 causes, to bring good out of evil, and order out of 
 confusion, to increase immensely the happiness of 
 his fellow-men, be wisdom, and the love of it, then 
 was this good man a philosopher indeed. 
 
 Henry Marshall was born in the parish of Kilsyth 
 in 1775. His father was a man of singular simplicity 
 and worth, and besides his own excellent example, 
 and in spite of his slender means, he gave both his 
 sons a college education. In May 1803, Henry 
 became surgeon's mate in the royal navy, a service
 
 and Military Hygtine. 185 
 
 he left in September 1804; and in January 1805 
 was appointed assistant-surgeon to the Forfarshire 
 regiment of militia. In April 1806, he became 
 assistant-surgeon to the first battalion of the 8gth 
 regiment, which embarked in February 1807 for 
 South America, thence to the Cape of Good Hope 
 and Ceylon. In May 1809, he was appointed assis- 
 tant-surgeon to the 2d Ceylon Regiment, and in 
 April 1813, was promoted to be surgeon of the ist 
 Ceylon Regiment. In December of the same year 
 he was removed to the staff, but continued to serve 
 in the island till the spring of 1821, when he returned 
 home ; and soon after his arrival he was appointed 
 to the staff of North Britain, his station being 
 Edinburgh. 
 
 We shall now give a short account of his principal 
 writings, and of the effect they had in attaining the 
 great object of his long and active life, which, in his 
 own words, was ' to excite attention to the means 
 which may meliorate the condition of the soldier, 
 and exalt his moral and intellectual character.' 
 
 1817. ' Description of the Laurus Cinnamomum] 
 read before the Royal Society at the request of Sir 
 Joseph Banks, and published in the Annals of Philo- 
 sophy of that year. 
 
 1821. ' Notes on the Medical Topography of the 
 interior of Ceylon, and on the Health of the Troops 
 employed in the Provinces during the years 1815 to
 
 1 86 Dr. Marshall 
 
 1820, with brief Remarks on the prevailing Diseases.' 
 London, 1821. 8vo, pp. 228. The great merit of 
 this little -book consisted in the numerical statistics it 
 contains regarding the mortality and diseases of the 
 troops a new feature in medical works at the time it 
 was published. 
 
 His next publication was in 1823. ' Observations 
 on the Health of the Troops in North Britain, during 
 a period of Seven years, from 1816 to 1822.' London 
 Medical and Physical Journal. The numerical por- 
 tion of these observations was an attempt, and at the 
 same time a novel one, to collect and arrange the facts 
 illustrative of the amount of sickness and the ratio 
 of mortality among a body of troops for a specific 
 period. 
 
 In November 1823, Dr. Marshall was removed 
 from Edinburgh to Chatham, and in April 1825, was 
 appointed to the recruiting depot, Dublin. In 1826, 
 he published ' Practical Observations on the Inspec- 
 tion of Recruits, including Observations on Feigned 
 Diseases.' Edin. Med. and Surgical Journal, vol. 
 xxvi. p. 225. 
 
 1828. 'Hints to Young Medical Officers of the 
 Army on the Examination of Recruits and the 
 Feigned Disabilities of Soldiers.' London, 1828. 
 8vo, pp. 224. The official documents contained in 
 this volume are interesting, in as far as they show 
 the difficulty of the duty of selecting recruits, and the
 
 and Military Hygilnc. 1 8 7 
 
 \ ery limited information the authorities, both military 
 and medical, appear to have had on the subject. It 
 is full of interest even to the general reader, opening 
 up one of the most singular and most painful manifesta- 
 tions of human character, and affording the strongest 
 proofs of the inherent misery and degradation of the 
 life of the British common soldier. In reading it, it 
 is difficult to know which to wonder most at the de- 
 spair and misery that must prompt, the ingenuity that 
 can invent, and the dogged resolution that can carry 
 out into prolonged execution, and under every species 
 of trial, the endless fictions of every conceivable kind 
 therein described; or the shrewdness, the professional 
 sagacity, and the indomitable energy with which Dr. 
 Marshall detects, and gives to others the means of 
 detecting, these refuges of lies. This was the first, 
 and still is the best work in our language on this 
 subject ; the others are mere compilations, in- 
 debted to Dr. Marshall for their facts and practical 
 suggestions. 
 
 In January 1828, Sir Henry (afterwards Viscount) 
 Hardinge was appointed Secretary at War. One of 
 the numerous important subjects connected with the 
 administration of the war department which early 
 engaged his attention, was the large and rapidly 
 increasing pension list. For a period of several 
 months he laboured hard to obtain information on 
 the practical working of the existing pensioning
 
 1 88 Dr. Marshall 
 
 warrants, chiefly from the unsatisfactory documents 
 found at Chelsea Hospital. He soon discovered 
 many abuses in the system then in operation. As a 
 means of helping him to abate the abuses in ques- 
 tion, he directed a Medical Board to assemble, of 
 which Dr. Marshall was appointed a member, the 
 specific duty of the Board being as follows : ' For 
 the purpose of revising the regulations which relate 
 to the business of examining and deciding upon the 
 cases of soldiers recommended for discharge from 
 the service.' 'The object of the proposed inquiry is 
 to ascertain what description of disabilities ought to 
 be pensioned, and what not.' The pension list at 
 this time stood as follows : 
 
 19,065 pensioners, at 6d. a day, average age thirty-one 
 years ; alleged causes of being discharged, inju- 
 ries or bad health. 
 
 16,630 at gd. a day, for service and disability combined. 
 
 21,095 a t Is - a day. f r length of service and wounds. 
 i, loo at is. gd., blind. 
 
 27,625 no causes of disability assigned. 
 
 85,515 
 
 The list had increased greatly during a period of 
 peace, and it was annually increasing. The mean 
 rate of pension was io|d., and the annual amount 
 ,1,436,663 ; the annual rate of mortality among the 
 pensioners being about four per cent. 
 
 During the sitting of the Board, Dr. Marshall col- 
 lected some practical information on the pensioning
 
 and Military Hygiene. 189 
 
 question ; and on returning to Dublin, in December 
 1828, he drew up a comprehensive scheme for pen- 
 sioning soldiers, upon what he considered improved 
 principles. Under the title of ' Cursory Observa- 
 tions on the Pensioning of Soldiers,' he forwarded his 
 scheme to Lord Hardinge ; and he had the satisfac- 
 tion of finding that a new pension warrant was made, 
 founded on the same principles as his ' Scheme,' 
 namely, isf, length of service ; 2d, wounds received 
 before the enemy ; 3^, greatly impaired health after 
 fifteen years' service ; 4//i, anomalous disabilities, 
 special cases, which require to be particularly con- 
 sidered. By Mr. Wyndham's Act of 1806, every 
 man who was discharged as disabled, was entitled to 
 a pension for life, without reference to the time he 
 had served ; and, by the subsequent amendments 
 and alterations, disabilities and not service consti- 
 tuted the chief claim for a pension. This mode of 
 obtaining a pension -opened a wide door for fraud of 
 various kinds. 
 
 The Pensioning Warrant of the Secretary at War 
 went through a number of editions, both in manu- 
 script and in print. 
 
 In 1829, Dr. Marshall published ' Observations on 
 the Pensioning of Soldiers.' United Service Journal, 
 1829, part ii. p. 317. This paper has a peculiar in- 
 terest, inasmuch as it gives an account of the frauds 
 which had been committed in the army by the
 
 190 Dr. Marshall 
 
 erasure and alteration of figures, and which had only 
 lately been discovered. The falsification of records 
 by this means was found, upon investigation, to have 
 been practised to a considerable extent in almost 
 every regiment in the service. 
 
 1829. ' Historical Notes on Military Pensions.' 
 United Service Journal. 
 
 1830. ' Notes on Military Pensions.' United Ser- 
 vice Journal. 
 
 Early in 1830, Dr. Marshall communicated to 
 Lord Hardinge a paper on the abuse of intoxicating 
 liquors by the European troops in India, and on the 
 impolicy of uniformly and indiscriminately issuing 
 spirit rations to soldiers. An abstract of this paper 
 was subsequently published under the following 
 title : 
 
 1830. 'Observations on the Abuse of Spirituous 
 Liquors by the European Troops in India, and of the 
 Impolicy of uniformly and indiscriminately issuing 
 Spirit Rations to Soldiers.' Edinburgh Med. and 
 Surg. Journal, vol. xli. p. i o. 
 
 Lord Hardinge carried into effect the suggestions 
 contained in this paper with remarkable promptitude ; 
 indeed, it would be difficult to praise too highly his 
 Lordship's conduct in this matter, whether in regard 
 to his discrimination in perceiving and appreciating 
 the evils of the usage, his firmness in abolishing it at 
 once, or his wisdom and courage in surmounting the
 
 and Military Hygiene. \ 9 1 
 
 prejudices of a large portion of all ranks in the army. 
 Within a week after he received it, he had commenced 
 measures to abolish the indiscriminate issue of spirit 
 rations to soldiers on board ship and on foreign sta- 
 tions. So long as a quantity of spirits, amounting to 
 about six or seven ounces (in India it was the 2oth 
 part of a gallon), formed part of the regular diet or 
 daily ration of a soldier which he was obliged to 
 swallow or to throw away, what rational hope could 
 be entertained that the exertions of commanding 
 officers, however well directed, would have much 
 effect in checking drunkenness 1 The indiscriminate 
 daily use of spirits is not necessary for the efficiency 
 or health of troops in any climate, and their abuse is 
 a fertile source of disabilities, diseases, and crimes, 
 both moral and military. To drink daily nearly half 
 a pint of spirits was then a part of the duty of a 
 soldier; and that this duty might be effectually exe- 
 cuted, it was the usage of the service, in many sta- 
 tions, to have it performed under the superinten- 
 dence of a commissioned officer, who certified to his 
 commanding officer that he had witnessed each man 
 drink his dram or ration of spirits. Perhaps a more 
 successful plan for converting temperate men into 
 drunkards could not have been invented. 
 
 During 1829, Dr. Marshall was attached to the 
 War Office, and in 1830, he was promoted to the 
 rank of deputy-inspector of hospitals by Lord Har-
 
 1 92 Dr. Marshall 
 
 dinge. Here ended his active service in the army, 
 and he was placed on half-pay. 
 
 Shortly after the promulgation of the instructions 
 for the guidance of medical officers in the duty of 
 examining recruits, which were drawn up by Dr. 
 Marshall, and were the result of a most laborious 
 and difficult inquiry, it occurred to Lord Hardinge, 
 that the publication of this document, together with 
 the pensioning warrant, and other relative papers, 
 accompanied by a suitable commentary, would be 
 useful, in the form of a small volume, for the infor- 
 mation of officers of the army ; with this object, Dr. 
 Marshall published in 
 
 1832. 'On the Enlisting, the Discharging, and 
 the Pensioning of Soldiers, with the Official Docu- 
 ments on these Branches of Military Duty.' London, 
 1832. 8vo, pp. 243. 
 
 In the summer of this year, Dr. Marshall married 
 Anne, eldest daughter of James Wingate, Esq. of 
 Westshiels. This union was, as we often said, the 
 best earthly blessing of a long and happy life. 
 
 1833. 'Contributions to Statistics of the Army, 
 with some Observations on Military Medical Returns. 
 No. I.' Edinburgh Medical and Surgical Journal, 
 vol. xl. p. 36. 
 
 It would be a work of supererogation for us to say 
 one word in favour of military statistics, as a means 
 of illustrating the condition of an army. For some
 
 and Milita ry Hyg ibne. 193 
 
 time, however, after the publication of this paper, the 
 utility of condensing and arranging medical returns 
 was but very partially recognised ; and Dr. Marshall's 
 ' array' of figures was laughed and sneered at by some 
 who ought to have known better. 
 
 1833. 'Contributions to Statistics of the Army. 
 No. II.' Edinburgh Medical and Surgical Journal, 
 vol. xl. p. 307. 
 
 1834. 'Sketch of the Geographical Distribution 
 of Diseases.' Edinburgh Med. and Surgical Journal, 
 vol. xxxviii. p. 330. 
 
 1834. 'Abstract of the Returns of the Sick of the 
 Troops belonging to the Presidency of Fort-George, 
 Madras, for the years 1827 to 1830.' Edinburgh 
 Med. and Surgical Journal, vol. xxxix. p. 133. 
 
 1834. 'On the Mortality of the Infantry of the 
 French Army.' Edinburgh Med. and Surgical Jour- 
 nal, vol. xlii. p. 34. 
 
 1835. ' Observations on the Influence of a Tropi- 
 cal Climate upon the Constitution and Health of 
 natives of Great Britain.' Edinburgh Medical and 
 Surgical Journal, vol. xliv. p. 28. 
 
 1835. ' Contributions to Statistics of the British 
 Army. No. III.' Edinburgh Medical and Surgical 
 Journal, vol. xliv. p. 353. 
 
 In 1835, Dr. Marshall, along with Sir A. M. 
 Tulloch (who has done such excellent service since) 
 was appointed to investigate the statistics of the 
 
 N
 
 194 r - Marshall 
 
 sickness, mortality, and invaliding of the British 
 army. Their report on the sickness, mortality, and 
 invaliding among the troops in the West Indies was 
 laid before Parliament the following year. 
 
 This report produced a change which was nothing 
 short of a revolution in this department of military 
 polity ; it destroyed the old established notion of 
 seasoning. The period of service in Jamaica used 
 to be nine or ten years ; this is now divided 
 between it and the Mediterranean stations and 
 British America. The reason alleged for keeping 
 them so long in so notoriously unhealthy a station, 
 was the military and medical fallacy, that Europeans 
 by length of residence became 'seasoned.' This 
 fallacy, which had been the source of so much 
 misery, and crime, and death, and expense, was 
 completely dissipated by these statistical returns, 
 from which it was found that (as in every other case) 
 mortality depended upon age, and that young soldiers 
 lived longer there than older ones, however ' sea- 
 soned ' by residence or disease. The annual mor- 
 tality of the troops in Jamaica was thirteen in the 
 hundred by the medical returns, but the actual mor- 
 tality amounted to about two per cent, more, a mor- 
 tality of which we may give some idea, by stating 
 that a soldier serving one year in Jamaica encoun- 
 tered as much risk of life as in six such actions as 
 Waterloo, there one in forty fell, in Jamaica one in
 
 and Military Hygiene. 195 
 
 seven annually. No wonder that the poor soldier, 
 knowing that eight or nine years must elapse before 
 he left this deadly place, and seeing a seventh com- 
 rade die every year, lost all hope, mind and body 
 equally broken down, and sank into drunkenness 
 and an earlier grave. He eventually concluded, that 
 it is a glorious climate where a man is always ' dry ' 
 and has always plenty to drink. Another evil pointed 
 out by this able report, was that produced by the use 
 of salted provisions. This practice was immediately 
 changed. It also brought to light a curious and im- 
 portant fact, that in the barracks situated at Maroon 
 Town, Jamaica, 2000 feet above the sea, the annual 
 mortality was only 32 per 1000, while at Up-Park 
 Camp, nearly on the level of the sea, it was 140 per 
 1000. The knowledge of this extraordinary, but till 
 the report, undiscovered fact, 1 has been acted upon 
 with eminent benefit ; so much so, that, had it been 
 known during the seventeen years previously, the 
 lives of 1387 men, and ,27,740, might have been 
 saved. We never met with a more remarkable in- 
 stance of the practical effects of statistics. 8 
 
 1837. ' Contribution to Statistics of the Sickness 
 and Mortality which occurred among the Troops 
 
 1 See Note at the end of this Paper. 
 
 2 Any one wishing a fuller account of this memorable experi- 
 ment and its results, will find it in an admirable paper by Sir 
 A. M. Tulloch, K.C.B., read before the Statistical Society in 
 1847.
 
 196 Dr. Marshall 
 
 employed on the Expedition to the Scheldt, in the 
 year 1809.' Edinburgh Med. and Surgical Journal, 
 vol. xlviii. p. 305. 
 
 1839. 'Contribution to Statistics of Hernia among 
 Recruits for the British, and Conscripts for the 
 French Army.' Edinburgh Medical and Surgical 
 Journal, vol. 1. p. 15. 
 
 1839. ' On the Enlisting, Discharging, and Pen- 
 sioning of Soldiers, with the Official Documents on 
 these branches of Military Duty.' Second Edition. 
 Edinburgh, 1839. 
 
 1846. 'Military Miscellany.' 8vo. London, 
 1846. 
 
 This most entertaining and effective book is a com- 
 plete epitome of its author's mind and character ; it 
 has something of everything that was peculiar to him. 
 Although dissuaded by his military friends with only 
 one exception from publishing it, as being likely to 
 produce dissatisfaction in the ranks, and offend com- 
 manding-officers : no such effect followed, but the 
 reverse. It is, as its name denotes, not so much a 
 treatise, as a body of multifarious evidence, enabling 
 any man of ordinary humanity and sense to make 
 up his mind on the various questions handled in it, 
 Recruiting enlistment moral and physical qualities 
 of recruits duration of engagement suicide in the 
 army, its greater frequency than in civil life, and the 
 reason of this punishments rewards vices and
 
 and Military Hygibne. 1 9 7 
 
 virtues of soldiers pensions education ; these, and 
 such like, are the subjects which are not so much 
 discussed, as exhibited and proved. At the time the 
 Miscellany came out, many things concurred in rapidly 
 promoting its great end. The public mind having 
 been enlightened on the evils of flogging in the army, 
 and of perpetual service, was bestirring itself in its 
 own rough and vague but energetic way ; there was 
 a 'clamour' on these subjects; Dr. Fergusson's 
 eloquent and able though somewhat exaggerative 
 ' Notes and Reminiscences of Professional Life,' pub- 
 lished after his death, advocated much the same 
 views as Dr. Marshall, and three elaborate and power- 
 ful articles in the Times on these two books and their 
 subjects, written with great ability and tact, had ex- 
 cited the attention of the nation when this was 
 brought to its operative point, by one of those de- 
 plorable incidents out of which not seldom comes 
 immediate and great good ; the sort of event which 
 beyond all others rouses the British people and makes 
 it act as one man, and in this case fortunately they 
 were well informed before being roused. The first 
 of the three articles in the Times appeared on the 2d 
 of July 1846, and straightway, as a practical lecture 
 concludes by the exhibition of a crucial and decisive 
 experiment, on the nth of the same month a 
 soldier died at Hounslow, apparently from the effects 
 of punishment inflicted in the previous month. This
 
 198 Dr. Marshall 
 
 sealed the fate of the flogging system. The idea of 
 Frederick John White of the 7th Hussars, 'a brave 
 fellow, who walked away whistling,' and was said to 
 be ' gentlemanly, affable, and mild,' dying of flogging 
 at John Bull's very door, was too much for John and 
 his family, and one of the things he could stand no 
 longer. The Commander-in-Chief instantly directed 
 that henceforth fifty lashes should be the maximum. 
 At the time, much of this result was attributed, in the 
 public prints and in Parliament, to Dr. Marshall's 
 book. Next session of Parliament more was done 
 for bettering the lot of the common soldier. 1 The 
 present Lord Panmure introduced a bill into Parlia- 
 ment, limiting the period for which a soldier enlists 
 to twelve years in the cavalry and ordnance, and ten 
 in the infantry, instead of as formerly for life, which, 
 after considerable discussion, was passed ; continual 
 reference was made in the debates to the Miscellany, 
 and its author had the satisfaction of witnessing the 
 
 1 The sale of spirituous liquors in canteens was abolished at this 
 time, and with the very best results. Colonel the Hon. James 
 Lindsay, M.P., has the merit of having contributed mainly to 
 the removal of this crying evil. His speech on moving for an 
 inquiry into the canteen system, is a model of the manner in 
 which such subjects should be handled clear, compact, soldier- 
 like. He makes the following just, but often overlooked dis- 
 tinction ' He believed it would not be difficult to show, that 
 though an habitual drunkard and an habitual drinker were two 
 different things, the one was as great an expense to the country 
 as the ether.'
 
 and Al Hilary Hygtine. 1 99 
 
 completion of those cardinal ameliorations. We can- 
 not convey a juster idea of this homely, unpretending 
 volume, than in the generous words of a distinguished 
 Belgian physician (M. Fallot) : ' C'est 1'ouvrage d'un 
 homme posse'dant parfaitetnent la matiere, ayant passe 
 la plus grande partie de sa vie a e'tudier le caractere, 
 les mceurs et les besoins des soldats au milieu des- 
 quels il vivait et au bien-etre desquels il avait voue 
 son existence. Ayant autant d'eleVation dans les 
 vues que d'independance dans 1'esprit, il a apergu les 
 deYauts partout ou ils existaient, et a eu le courage 
 de les mettre a nu et de les signaler. A ceux qui 
 craindraient que le me'moire ne fut trop se'rieux ou 
 trop monotone, je dois dire que la foule d' anecdotes 
 piquantes, de citations heureuses et opportunes, dont 
 le memoire est seme", reposent et distraient agrdable- 
 ment 1'esprit du lecteur.' 
 
 Dr. Marshall's last publication on military subjects 
 was in 1849 'Suggestions for the Advancement of 
 Military Medical Literature.' These were his parting 
 words for the service he had devoted the energies of 
 a long lifetime to a sort of legacy bequeathed to 
 those who were going forward in the same good 
 work. He was then labouring under a mortal dis- 
 ease, one of the most painful and terrible to which 
 our flesh is heir of its real nature and only termina- 
 tion he was, with his usual sagacity, aware from the 
 first, and yet with all this, we never got a kinder wel-
 
 2OO Dr. Marshall 
 
 come, never saw one more cheerful, or more patient 
 in listening to what concerned only others. He used 
 to say, ' This is bad, very bad, in its own way as bad 
 as can be, but everything else is good : my home is 
 happy ; my circumstances are good ; I always made 
 a little more than I spent, and it has gathered of 
 course; my life has been long, happy, busy, and I 
 trust useful, and I have had my fill of it ; I have lived 
 to see things accomplished, which I desired, ardently 
 longed for fifty years ago, but hardly hoped ever to 
 see.' With that quiet, rational courage, which was 
 one of his chief but hidden qualities, he possessed 
 his soul in patience in the midst of intense suffering, 
 and continued to enjoy and to use life for its best 
 purposes to the last 
 
 Of religion, and especially of his own religion, he 
 was not in the. habit of speaking much ; when he did, 
 it was shortly and to the purpose, and in a way which 
 made every one feel that the root of the matter was 
 in him. His views of God, of sin, and of himself, 
 and his relation to his Maker and the future, were of 
 the simplest and most operative kind. When in 
 Ceylon, and living much alone, away from religious 
 books and ordinances, and religious talk, and contro- 
 versy, and quarrel, away also from that religiosity 
 which is one of the curses of our time, he studied 
 his New Testament, and in this, as in every other 
 matter, made up his mind for himself. Not that he
 
 and Military Hygilne. 201 
 
 avoided religious conversation, but he seemed never 
 to get over the true sacredness of anything connected 
 with his own personal religion. It was a favourite 
 expression of his, that religion resolved itself into 
 wonder and gratitude intelligent wonder; humble 
 and active gratitude such wonder and such gratitude 
 as the New Testament calls forth. 
 
 Dr. Marshall, as may readily be supposed, was not 
 what the world calls a genius ; had he been one, he 
 probably would not have done what he did. Yet he 
 was a man of a truly original mind ; he had his own 
 way of saying and doing everything ; he had a knack 
 of taking things at first-hand ; he was original, inas- 
 much as he contrived to do many things nobody else 
 had done ; a sort of originality worth a good deal of 
 ' original genius.' And like all men of a well-mixed, 
 ample, and genial nature, he was a humorist of his 
 own and that a very genuine kind ; his short stories, 
 illustrative of some great principle in morals or in 
 practical life, were admirable and endless in number ; 
 if he had not been too busy about more serious 
 matters, he might have filled a volume with anec- 
 dotes, every one of them at once true and new, and 
 always setting forth and pointing some vital truth. 
 Curiously enough, it was in this homely humour, that 
 the strength and the consciousness of strength, which 
 one might not have expected from his mild manner 
 and his spare and fragile frame, came out ; his satire,
 
 2O2 Dr. Marshall 
 
 his perfect appreciation of the value and size of 
 those he had in view, and his ' pawky ' intuition into 
 the motives and secret purposes of men, who little 
 thought they were watched by such an eye, was 
 one of the most striking, and gravely comic bits of 
 the mental picturesque ; it was like Mind looking 
 at and taking the measure and the weight of Body, 
 and Body standing by grandly unconscious and dis- 
 closed ; and hence it was that, though much below 
 the average height, no one felt as if he were little 
 he was any man's match. His head and eye settled 
 the matter ; he had a large, compact, commanding 
 brain, and an eye singularly intelligent, inevitable, 
 and calm. 
 
 Dr. Marshall died on the 5th May 1851, at Edin- 
 burgh, where he had for many years lived. Though 
 out of the service, he was constantly occupied with 
 some good work, keeping all his old friends, and 
 making new and especially young ones, over whom 
 he had a singular power ; he had no children, but he 
 had the love of a father for many a youth, and the 
 patience of a father too. In his married life, to use 
 his own words, ' I got what I was in search of for 
 forty years, and I got this at the very time it was 
 best for me, and I found it to be better and more 
 than I ever during these forty long years had hoped 
 for.' 
 
 Had such a man as Dr. Marshall appeared in
 
 and Military Hygiene. 203 
 
 France, or indeed anywhere else than in Britain, he 
 would have been made a Baron at the least He 
 did not die the less contented that he was not ; and 
 we must suppose, that there is some wise though 
 inscrutable final cause why our country, in such 
 cases, makes virtue its own and only reward, and is 
 leonum arida nutrix, a very dry nurse indeed. 
 
 Besides the publications we have mentioned, in 
 connexion with military statistics and hygiene, Dr. 
 Marshall published a history and description of 
 Ceylon, which, after all the numerous works on ' the 
 utmost Indian isle, remains at once the shortest, 
 the fullest, and the best. He also published on the 
 coco-nut tree, and a sketch of the geographical dis- 
 tribution of disease, besides many other occasional 
 papers, in all of which he makes out something at 
 once new and true. In the well-weighed words of 
 Dr. Craigie : 'He was the first to show how the 
 multiplied experience of the medical officers of the 
 British Army at home and abroad, by methodical 
 arrangement and concentration, might be applied by 
 the use of computation, to furnish exact and useful 
 results in medical statistics, medical topography, the 
 geographical relations of diseases, medical hygiene, 
 and almost every other branch of military medicine. 
 Dr. Marshall must indeed be regarded as the father 
 and founder of military medical statistics, and of tJieir 
 varied applications' We end our notice of this truly
 
 204 Dr. Marshall 
 
 excellent public servant, with his own dying words : 
 ' In many respects, I consider myself one of the 
 most fortunate individuals who ever belonged to the 
 medical department of the army. Through a long life 
 I have enjoyed almost uninterrupted good health, 
 and my duties have been a pleasure to me. Having 
 generally had some literary undertaking on hand, 
 more or less connected with military hygiene, I have 
 enjoyed much intellectual gratification. " To labour 
 diligently, and to be content (says the son of Sirach), 
 is a sweet life." My greatest delight has been to 
 promote a melioration of the condition of soldiers, 
 and in the prosecution of this important object, I 
 hope I have done some good. I have much reason 
 to be grateful to Divine Providence for the many 
 blessings I have enjoyed, and continue to enjoy. 
 Although my elementary education was extremely 
 limited, my professional instruction defective, and my 
 natural talents moderate, I have no reason to com- 
 plain of my progress and standing in the service. 
 Every step of advancement which I gained in the 
 army was obtained without difficulty. When I look 
 back upon my progress in life, it seems to me that I 
 have been led " in a plain path," and that my steps 
 have been " ordered." ' 
 
 We had intended giving some account of the 
 medical military worthies who preceded Dr. Mar- 
 shall, but we have left ourselves no space.
 
 and Military Hygiene. 205 
 
 Among them may be reckoned Sir John Pringle, 
 the earliest and one of the best ; * Drs. Brocklesby, 
 the generous friend of Burke and Johnson; D. 
 Monro ; R. Somerville ; R. Jackson, whose system 
 of arrangement and discipline for the medical depart- 
 ment of the army is most valuable and judicious, and 
 far in advance of its date, 1805 ; Cheyne, Lempriere, 
 and Fergusson. All these reformers, differing as they 
 often did in the specific objects and expedients they 
 each had in view, agreed in the great, but then im- 
 perfectly known and recognised principle, that pre- 
 vention is not only better, but easier and cheaper 
 than cure that health is more manageable than 
 
 1 Sir John Pringle was truly what his epitaph in Westminster 
 Abbey calls him, egregius vir a man not of the common herd ; 
 a man in advance of his age. He is our earliest health 
 reformer, the first who in this country turned his mind and that 
 of the public to hygiene as a part of civil polity. In the Library 
 of the Royal College of Physicians of Edinburgh, there were 
 deposited by him, in 1781, a year before his death, ten large 
 folios of MSS., entitled 'Medical Annotations,' forming the 
 most remarkable record we have ever seen of the active intelli- 
 gence and industry of a physician in the course of an immense 
 London practice. Among other valuable matter, these volumes 
 contain a ' Treatise on Air, Climate, Diet, and Exercise,' as 
 subjects concerning public as well as personal health, which 
 indicates, in a very interesting manner, the infantile condition 
 of this science at that time, and the author's singularly liberal, 
 sagacious, and practical opinions. This treatise is contiriued 
 from time to time through many volumes, and must have been 
 many years in writing. It is much to be regretted, that by the 
 terms of his gift of these MSS., the College is forbidden ever to 
 publish any of them. When a history of vital statistics and
 
 206 Dr. Marshall 
 
 disease and that in military, as in civil life, by dis- 
 covering and attending to the laws by which God 
 regulates the course of nature, and the health of his 
 rational creatures, immense evils may be prevented 
 with the utmost certainty, which evils, if once in- 
 curred, no skill and art can countervail ; in the one 
 case, nature in her courses fights for, in the other 
 against us ; serious odds 1 
 
 When and how is the world to be cured of its 
 passion for the game of war ? As to the when, we 
 may safely say it is not yet come. In her voyage 
 down the great stream, our world has not yet slid 
 into that spacious and blessed Pacific, where 
 
 hygiene is written, as we trust it may soon be, and we know of 
 only one man (Dr. Farr) who can fulfil this task, this treatise, 
 dating nearly too years back, will deserve its due, as the herald 
 of so much after good. 
 
 Besides being, what only one other Scotchman, we believe, 
 ever has been (the Earl of Morton), President of the Royal 
 Society, he was Professor of Moral Philosophy in the University 
 of Edinburgh ; and his observations on the diseases of the army, 
 so famous in his day, with his discourse on some late im- 
 provements in preserving the health of mariners, may still be 
 read with advantage for their accurate description, their humane 
 spirit, and plain good sense, and stand out in marked contrast 
 to the error, ignorance, and indifference then prevalent in all 
 matters concerning the prevention of disease. His greatest glory 
 in his own day is his least now, his epitaph bearing on its front 
 that he was the man 
 
 ' Quern celcissima Wallise Princessa 
 
 Regina serenissima, 
 Ipsius denique Regis Majestas, 
 Medicum sibi comprobavit'
 
 and Military Hygilne. 207 
 
 ' Birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave. ' 
 \Ve have no more got this length than we have that 
 to which a friend of the author of The New Moral 
 World so eagerly looked forward, when she asked 
 him 
 
 ' When shall we arrive at that state of pudity, 
 When we shall all walk about in our native nudity ? ' 
 
 We fear we cannot yet dispense altogether either 
 with our clothes or our cartridges. We cannot afford 
 to beat all our swords into ploughshares. But we as 
 firmly believe that we are on our way to this, and 
 that the fighting peace-men are doing much good. 
 The idea of peace, as a thing quite practicable, is 
 gaining the ear of the public, and from thence it will 
 find its way into its brain, and down to its heart, and 
 thence out in act by its will. We have no doubt that 
 the time is coming when, for a great trading nation 
 like ours, supplying a world with knowledge, calico, 
 and tools, to keep an immense army and navy will 
 be as manifestly absurd and unbusiness-like, as it 
 would be for a bagman from Manchester, or a traveller 
 from 'The Row,' to make his rounds among his 
 customers, armed cap-a-pie, soliciting orders with his 
 circular in one hand, and a Colt's revolver in the 
 other. As to the how, chiefly in three ways : First, 
 By the commercial principle of profit and loss, of a 
 heavy balance against, coming to influence the trans- 
 actions of nations, as it has long done those of
 
 2 oS Dr. Marshall 
 
 private and social life free-trade, mutual connexion 
 and intercourse, the proof, publicly brought out, that 
 the interest of the body-politic is also that of every 
 one of its members, and the good of the whole that 
 also specially of each part the adoption, not merely 
 in theory, but in practice, of a law of nations, by the 
 great leading powers, and the submitting disputes 
 regarding territory, commerce, and all the questions 
 arising out of active multifarious trading among the 
 nations, to reason and fixed rules, and settling them 
 by the arbitration of intelligent humane men, instead 
 of by the discharge of a park of artillery. Secondly, 
 By the art of war being by scientific discovery so 
 advanced in the degree and the immediateness of its 
 destructiveness, so certain utterly to destroy one of 
 the sides, or it may be both, that it would come to 
 be as much abolished among well-bred, enlightened 
 nations as the duel would be among civilized men 
 were it certain that one or both of the combatants 
 must be extinguished on the spot. ' Satisfaction ' 
 would not be so often asked by nations or indivi- 
 duals, and dissatisfaction not so often expressed, were 
 this accomplished. Thirdly, and chiefly, By nations 
 not only becoming shrewder and more truly aware of 
 their own interests and of what ' pays ' or such 
 ' dead shots ' as to make the issue of any war rapid 
 and fatal, but most of all by their growing, in the 
 only true sense, better, more under the habitual
 
 and Military Hygiene. 209 
 
 influence of genuine virtue, more informed with the 
 knowledge, and the fear, and the love of God and of 
 His laws. 
 
 Since finishing this paper, we have seen a copy of 
 the new statistical report on the sickness and mor- 
 tality of the British army, submitted on the 3ist of 
 March to the Secretary at War, and presented the 
 other day to Parliament. It does infinite credit to 
 the energy, and accuracy, and judgment, of Sir A. 
 M. Tulloch and Dr. Graham Balfour, by whom it 
 has been prepared ; and is one of the most valuable 
 results yet obtained from that method of research 
 of which Dr. Marshall was, as we have seen, the ori- 
 ginator. It is not easy to make an abstract of what 
 is itself the concentrated essence of an immense 
 number of voluminous reports the two valuable 
 public servants above mentioned have always heartily 
 acknowledged their obligations to Dr. Marshall, and 
 they conclude their prefatory notice by saying, 
 ' The death of Dr. Marshall, inspector-general of hos- 
 pitals, has deprived us of the valuable aid previously 
 afforded by that officer, in the medical details, for 
 which his long acquaintance with the statistics of his 
 profession so well qualified him.' We shall make 
 a few random extracts, to show how well grounded 
 Mr. Sidney Herbert's statement is, that the common 
 soldier never was better off than now. The report 
 begins with enumerating the improvements in the 
 o
 
 2io Dr. Marshall 
 
 condition of the soldier since their last report in 
 1841. We have already mentioned the chief of 
 these. During seven years upwards of ^16,000 
 have been expended in the purchase of books for 
 barrack libraries, and it is found that the numbers 
 who avail themselves of this new source of occupa- 
 tion are every year on the increase, and thus much 
 of the time formerly wasted in the canteen, to the 
 injury alike of health and morals, is now devoted to 
 reading. Great improvements have been made in 
 the construction and ventilation of barracks and the 
 means of ablution. The good-conduct pay is found 
 to work excellently. Prior to 1837, the maximum of 
 pay to a private could never exceed is. 2d. per day 
 in the infantry, is. 5d. in the cavalry, exclusive of 
 beer-money, even after twenty years' service and the 
 best character; but by the operation of the good- 
 conduct warrants, a soldier by the same service may 
 now obtain is. 4d. a day in infantry, and is. yd. in 
 cavalry. This has greatly added to the comforts of 
 old soldiers, some of whom, being" married, could only 
 support their families by restricting their personal 
 expenditure to an extent hardly compatible with 
 health. The evening meal of coffee or tea and 
 bread, which had been adopted by a few corps in 
 1837, is now general, and with, as might be ex- 
 pected, the best results. Suicide in the cavalry is 
 more than double that in the infantry, being annually
 
 and Military Hygiene. 2 1 1 
 
 as 5 '8 in every 10,000 is to 2-2. This seems strange, 
 as the cavalry is a more popular service and better 
 paid, and the men of a higher class, and, one would 
 think, the duties more interesting. The report gives 
 the conjecture, that this may arise from so many of 
 them being men of broken fortunes, who enlist when 
 rendered destitute by extravagance. In the Foot 
 Guards suicide is very rare, but the mortality from 
 disease is very great. The deaths among them annu- 
 ally per 1000, are at the rate of 20-4; in the infantry 
 of the line, 17*9; cavalry, 13*6; and in the civil 
 population of large towns, n'9- In the household 
 cavalry the mortality is still less : owing to their 
 living better lives, and having larger pay and more 
 comfort, and less exposure and better accommoda- 
 tion, their average per 1000 is only ii-i; but this 
 result is also materially owing to a weeding process, 
 by which those who exhibit traces of constitutional 
 disease, or who are injuring their health and bringing 
 discredit on the corps by dissipation, are from time to 
 time discharged 216 of these mauvais sujets having 
 been weeded out during the ten years to which the 
 report refers. 
 
 ' Such a weeding,' the reporters very truly observe, 
 ' cannot fail to have a very beneficial effect both on 
 their moral and physical condition, and, if practicable, 
 would be of vast benefit also in other branches of the 
 sendee.' The difficulty originates in this, that in the
 
 2 1 2 Dr. Marshall 
 
 line the rate of pay is less than the average wages of 
 the labouring classes, while in the Horse Guards it 
 is greater. 
 
 Under the head of fevers, we find this extraordinary 
 proof of the fatality of typhus in the troops of the 
 United Kingdom : in the cavalry, of those attacked, 
 i in 3 4- dies ; in the Foot Guards, i in 3! ; in the 
 infantry, i in 4 which is quite as high as the mortality 
 of the remittent or yellow fever in the West Indies. 
 
 Nothing can be more satisfactory than the report 
 on corporal punishments. 
 
 ' This description of punishment has now become so 
 rare, that in the Foot Guards only one instance has oc- 
 curred in every 1000 men annually; in the Regiments 
 of the Line the proportion was five times as great. 
 The large number of recruits in the latter, particularly 
 after their return from foreign service, may be assigned 
 as one cause for this difference, as also their being 
 dispersed over the country, and in many instances in 
 quarters where no facilities exist for imprisonment. 
 The establishment of military prisons, to which offen- 
 ders may be sent from all parts of the country, has of 
 late provided a remedy for this, which will be likely 
 to render the contrast less striking in future years. 
 The admissions in the Dragoon Guards and Dragoons, 
 are 3 per 1000 annually, being a mean between the 
 Foot Guards and Infantry of the Line. 
 
 ' We have no means of comparing the proportion
 
 and Military Hygiene. 213 
 
 during the period included in this Report with that 
 of the previous seven years, except for the Cavalry, 
 in which will be found a decrease in the admissions 
 from 8 to 3 per thousand of the mean strength 
 annually; so rare, indeed, is this description of 
 punishment in the present day, that it may almost 
 be considered extinct, except as regards a few in- 
 corrigibles, who are unfortunately to be found in the 
 ranks of every regiment, and who are probably 
 equally numerous in civil life. The following Table 
 exhibits the gradual decrease in this description of 
 punishment among the several classes of troops in 
 this country for each year since 1837 : 
 
 
 i 
 
 1838 
 
 1839 
 
 TS 4 
 
 |84I 
 
 1842 
 
 1843 
 
 1844 
 
 ,S 4? 
 
 iS 4 r, 
 
 1 
 
 H 
 
 Number Punished 
 Dragoon Guards) 
 and Dragoons, J 
 
 14 
 
 14 
 
 29 
 
 17 
 
 24 
 
 76 
 
 7 
 
 28 
 
 3 
 
 ii 
 
 iS 
 
 Foot Guards, 
 
 4 
 
 1 
 
 7 
 
 3 
 
 9 
 
 4 
 
 S 
 
 ! 
 
 6 
 
 i 
 
 4 
 
 Infantry of the) 
 Line, . . . f 
 
 68 
 
 <J~ 
 
 S6 
 
 4 6 
 
 56 
 
 59 
 
 7 6 
 
 toy 
 
 15' 
 
 27 
 
 768 
 
 Ratio per 1000 Punished 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Dragoon Guards ) 
 and Dragoons, ( 
 Foot Guards, 
 
 = '5 
 
 q 
 
 "'7 
 
 5 '5 
 
 2'2 
 
 3"- 
 o. 
 
 4'5 
 6 
 
 3' 2 
 
 I'2 
 
 i '3 
 
 I'O 
 
 4'5 
 
 I'O 
 
 3'9 
 
 I '2 
 
 2'0 
 '2 
 
 3'4 
 
 I - o 
 
 Infantry of the ) 
 Line, . . .)" 
 
 57 
 
 6-9 
 
 5'9 
 
 4 '9 
 
 4-6 
 
 4'3 
 
 3'S 
 
 4'3 
 
 6-9 
 
 i'4 
 
 4'S 
 
 'This reduction in corporal punishment extends 
 not merely to the troops at home, but to the whole 
 Army, as will be seen by the following Summary, 
 prepared from the returns fonvarded annually to the 
 Adjutant-General's Department from every Regiment 
 in the Service :
 
 214 
 
 Dr. Marshall 
 
 Years. 
 
 Effective 
 Strength in each 
 Year. 
 
 Sentenced to i R ati P er I00 
 Corporal i Sentenced to 
 Punishment, j Corporal 
 i Punishment. 
 
 I8 3 8 
 
 96,907 
 
 9 88 
 
 I0'2 
 
 1839 
 1840 
 
 103,152 
 "2,653 
 
 935 
 93 * 
 
 g;i 
 
 1841 
 
 116,369 
 
 866 
 
 7 '4 
 
 1842 
 
 120,313 
 
 88 1 
 
 73 
 
 1843 
 
 123,452 
 
 700 
 
 5-6 
 
 1844 
 
 125,105 
 
 695 
 
 5 '5 
 
 1845 
 
 125,252 
 
 696 
 
 5 '5 
 
 1846 
 
 126,501 
 
 519 
 
 
 'Thus, instead of 10 men in every thousand 
 throughout the army having undergone corporal pun- 
 ishment, as was the case in 1838, the proportion in 
 1846 was only 4 per thousand. And not only has 
 there been this great reduction in the frequency, but 
 a corresponding alteration has taken place in the 
 severity also. Even so late as 1832, the number of 
 lashes which might be awarded by a General Court- 
 Martial was unlimited, and in 1825, it is on record 
 that one man was sentenced to 1900, of which he 
 received 1200. From 1832 to 1837, the maximum 
 number of lashes inflicted by the sentence of such 
 Courts became gradually reduced as follows : 
 
 1832 
 800 
 
 1833 
 500 
 
 1834 
 600 
 
 1835 
 
 500 
 
 1836 
 400 
 
 <837 
 >oo 
 
 'After 1836 no higher number could be awarded, 
 even by a General Court-Martial, than 200 lashes;
 
 and Military Hygiene. 2 1 5 
 
 while a District Court-Martial was limited to 150, 
 and a Regimental one to 100. Since 1847 the 
 maximum of this description of punishment has been 
 limited to 50 lashes ; but the effect of that restriction 
 on the admissions into hospital will fall to be con- 
 sidered rather in a subsequent Report than on the 
 present occasion. 
 
 ' When this amelioration commenced, grave appre- 
 hensions were entertained that it would give rise to 
 such relaxation of discipline as to cause a consider- 
 able increase in the description of offences for which 
 corporal punishment had usually been awarded, and 
 that transportation and capital punishment would 
 become more frequent ; but never were apprehensions 
 less warranted by the result, as will be seen by the 
 following abstract of the Table prepared from the 
 Adjutant-General's Return, No. xn. of Appendix : 
 
 ' In 1838, out of 96,907 men, there were 9944 
 Courts-Martial; 441 general, and 4813 district; sen- 
 tenced to death, 14; transportation, 221; while in 
 1846, out of 126,591, there were 9212 Courts-Martial, 
 whereof there were 200 general and 3959 district; 
 sentenced to death, i ; transportation, 114.' 
 
 All this has occurred without any relaxation of dis-- 
 cipline, the army never having been in a more efficient 
 state than at present 
 
 This paper was written in 1853. Since that time 
 much has been done in carrying out genuine army
 
 216 Dr. Marshall 
 
 reform and hygiene. The Crimean War, with its 
 glory and its havoc, laid bare and made intolerable 
 many abuses and wants. Above all, it fixed the eyes 
 of their country on the miseries, the wrongs, and the 
 virtues of the common soldier. Whatever may be 
 said by history of our skill in the art of war, as dis- 
 played during that campaign, one thing was tried and 
 not found wanting in that terrible time the stout- 
 ness, the endurance, the 'bottom,' of our race, 
 what old Dr. Caius calls 'the olde manly hardnes, 
 stoute courage, and peinfulnes of Englande.' 1 
 
 We need not say how much more the nation loved 
 and cared for these noble fellows, when it saw that to 
 these, the cardinal virtues of a soldier, were added, 
 in so many instances, the purest devotion, patience, 
 intelligence, and a true moral greatness. It is the 
 best test, as it is the main glory and chief end of a 
 true civilisation, its caring for the great body of the 
 people. This it is which distinguishes our time from 
 all others, and the common soldier is now sharing 
 in this movement, which is twice blessed. 
 
 But all great and true generals, from King David, 
 Hannibal, Caesar, Cromwell, the great Frederic, etc., 
 down to our own Sir Colin, have had their men's 
 comforts, interests, and lives at heart. The late Lord 
 Dunfermline magni parentis filius hand degener 
 
 1 From his ' Booke or Counseil against the disease called the 
 Sweate, made by Jhon Caius, Doctour in Phisicke, 1552.'
 
 and Military Hygiene. 2 1 7 
 
 when speaking, with deep feeling and anger, to the 
 writer, about the sufferings of the men, and the 
 frightful blunders in the Crimea, told the following 
 story of his father, the great and good Sir Ralph 
 Abercromby. After his glorious victory, the dying 
 general was being carried on a litter to the boat of 
 the ' Foudroyant,' in which he died. He was in great 
 pain from his wound, and could get no place to rest. 
 Sir John Macdonald (afterwards adjutant-general) 
 put something under his head. Sir Ralph smiled 
 and said, ' That is a comfort ; that is the very 
 thing. What is it, John]' 'It is only a soldier's 
 blanket, Sir Ralph.' ' Only a soldier's blanket, Sir !' 
 said the old man, fixing his eye severely on him. 
 ' Whose blanket is it?i ' One of the men's.' ' I wish 
 to know the name of the man whose this blanket is ;' 
 and everything paused till he was satisfied. ' It is 
 Duncan Roy's of the 42d, Sir Ralph.' ' Then see 
 that Duncan Roy gets his blanket this very night;' 
 and, wearied and content, the soldier's friend was 
 moved to his death-bed. ' Yes, Doctor,' said Lord 
 Dunfermline, in his strong, earnest way, ' the whole 
 question is in that blanket in Duncan getting his 
 blanket that very night.' 
 
 I cannot conclude these remarks more fitly, than 
 by quoting the following evidence, given before the 
 Commissioners on the sanitary state of the Army, by 
 Dr. Balfour, the worthy pupil of Dr. Marshall, and now
 
 218 Dr. Marshall 
 
 medical officer of the Royal Asylum, Chelsea ; any , 
 man may see from it what good sense, good feeling, 
 and sanitary science, may accomplish and prevent. 
 
 ' On the retirement of Dr. Marshall, I was associ- 
 ated with Colonel Tulloch in the preparation of the 
 subsequent reports. In the course of that duty I 
 was much struck with the great amount of mortality 
 generally, and the large proportion of it which ap- 
 peared to be caused by preventible disease. I subse- 
 quently had the opportunity of verifying my opinion 
 on this point, by watching the results which followed 
 the adoption of various sanitary measures which we 
 recommended in our report, and which were carried 
 out to a greater or less extent. The results obtained 
 from these changes fully confirmed my previous 
 opinions, and led me to continue to make the sub- 
 ject my special study. 
 
 ' Is the present diet of the soldier well calculated 
 to produce this effect ? I think not ; it would scarcely 
 be possible to devise anything worse calculated for the 
 purpose, than the diet of the soldier was when I first 
 joined the service. He had then two meals a day, 
 breakfast and dinner ; and the period between dinner 
 and breakfast the following day was nineteen hours. 
 His dinner consisted of perpetual boiled beef and 
 broth. Subsequently the introduction of the evening 
 meal, which had been pressed upon the attention of 
 the military authorities by the medical officers for
 
 and Military Hygiene. 2 1 9 
 
 many years, effected a very great improvement In 
 other respects, his diet, as laid down by regulation, 
 continues the same as at that period. It is mono- 
 tonous to a degree. I have frequently seen, in a 
 barrack-room, soldiers, and especially the older ones, 
 leave the broth untouched. 
 
 Would it be possible to improve the soldiers' diet 
 by infusing into it greater variety 1 ? I know practi- 
 cally it is quite possible to do so. When I was 
 appointed to the Royal Military Asylum, I found the 
 system of feeding the boys pretty much the same as 
 that in the army, but not quite so monotonous, as 
 they had baked mutton on Sundays, suet pudding 
 three days in the week, and boiled beef on the other 
 three days : the meat was always boiled, but they did 
 not get broth, the liquor being thrown away. They 
 had abundance of food, their dinner consisting, on 
 meat days, of eleven ounces of meat, without bone, 
 which is more than is given to the soldier ; but they 
 did not eat it with relish, and quantities of food were 
 taken away to the hog-tub. The boys were pale and 
 feeble, and evidently in a very low state of health. 
 Mr. Benjamin Phillips, a very high authority on scro- 
 fulous disease, told me, that when he examined the 
 school, while engaged in preparing his work on scro- 
 fula for publication, he found the boys lower in point 
 of physique than almost any school he had examined, 
 even including those of the workhouses. After a care-
 
 22O 
 
 Dr. Marshall 
 
 ful examination of the dietaries of almost all the prin- 
 cipal schools established for children in England and 
 Scotland, I prepared a scale of diet, which was sanc- 
 tioned by the Commissioners in December 1848, 
 and, with a few slight modifications, is now in use at 
 the asylum. The chief points I kept in view were, 
 to give a sufficient amount of food in varied and 
 palatable forms, and without long intervals of fasting. 
 The following are the old and the present scales of 
 dietaries : 
 
 ' ROYAL MILITARY ASYLUM, CHELSEA. 
 DIET TABLE OF THE BOYS OF THE ASYLUM IN 1848. 
 
 Days of 
 Week. 
 
 Breakfast at 
 
 8 A.M. 
 
 Dinner at 
 
 Supper at 
 6P.M. 
 
 Sunday . "| 
 Tuesday . ! 
 and 
 Thursday . J 
 
 Cocoa \ oz. 
 Sugar \ oz. 
 Milk gill 
 Bread 5 oz. 
 
 Beef . . . 1 1 oz. 
 Potatoes . 8 ,, 
 Bread . . <; ,, 
 Table-beer \ pt. 
 
 1 Bread 
 
 Is z - 
 
 f Milk 
 Jfpt 
 
 Monday . 1 
 Wednesday 1 
 and 
 Friday . . j 
 
 Ditto . - 
 
 Suet . . 2 oz. 
 Flour . . 8 ,, 
 Potatoes . 8 
 Bread . . 5 ,, 
 Table-beer \ pt. 
 
 1 
 
 \ Do. 
 
 I 
 J 
 
 Saturday . 
 
 j 
 
 Rt. Mutton, 1 1 oz. 
 Potatoes . 8 ,, 
 Bread . . 5 
 Beer . . . | pt. 
 
 }, 
 
 Children under eight years of age have 8 oz. of meat instead of 
 ind 4 oz of bread instead of 5 oz
 
 and Military Hygilne. 2 2 1 
 
 ' DIET TABLE OF THE BOYS OF THE ASYLUM IN JULY 1857. 
 
 Days of 
 Week. 
 
 Breakfast at 
 
 8A.M. 
 
 Dinner at i P.M. 
 
 At half-past 
 3 P.M. 
 
 Supper at 
 
 8 I'.M. 
 
 r 
 
 Docoa i oz. 
 
 T ., fbeef . 6oz. 
 
 I 
 
 
 Sunday <{ 
 
 Sugar J ,, 
 Milk |gill 
 Bread 5 oz. 
 
 stew < > P * atoes 8 
 [onions J ,, 
 Pud- j flour . 2 ,, 
 
 1 
 [ Bread 
 [2*02. 
 
 Bread 
 5oz. 
 Milk 
 
 
 
 ding I suet . i , , 
 Bread . . . 2\ 
 
 J 
 
 |pt 
 
 
 f 
 
 Boiled beef . 6 oz. 
 
 -^ 
 
 
 Monday . 
 
 J 
 
 Broth . . . J pt. 
 Greens ... 6 oz. 
 
 
 " 
 
 
 I 
 
 Bread . . . 2j 
 
 
 
 
 r 
 
 Xoast mutton 6 oz. 
 
 1 
 
 
 Tuesday . 
 
 -i 
 
 Yorkshire (flour 4 
 pudding (suet j ,, 
 Bread . . . 2\ 
 
 j- 
 
 1 
 
 Wednesday 
 
 r 
 
 T . , fbeef . 6 oz. 
 ! potatoes 6 ,, 
 [ onions \ ,, 
 Bread . . . 2\ ,, 
 
 i- 
 
 
 
 
 
 Roast mutton 8 oz. 
 
 -j 
 
 
 
 
 Rice f rice . 2 ,, 
 
 
 
 Thursday . 
 
 
 Dud- < milk . pt. 
 
 } > 
 
 M 
 
 
 
 ding [_ sugar . \ oz. 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 Bread . . . 2\ 
 
 J 
 
 
 
 
 Stewed beef . 6 oz. 
 
 1 
 
 
 Friday 
 
 
 Rice . . . 3 
 Treacle . . \ ,, 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 Bread . . . 2^ ,, 
 
 J 
 
 
 
 r 
 
 Boiled beef . 6 oz. 
 
 ] 
 
 
 Saturday . 
 
 - 
 
 Potatoes . . 6 
 Broth . . . i pt. 
 
 - 
 
 ,, 
 
 
 i 
 
 Bread ... 2^ oz. 
 
 J 
 
 
 Children under eight to have 4 oz. of meat instead of 6 oz.
 
 222 Dr. Marshall 
 
 'Did the improvement in the dietary greatly in- 
 crease its cost? On the contrary, it saved nearly 
 ^300 a year in the feeding of the establishment. By 
 introducing a greater variety, the boys took the whole 
 of their food with relish, and I was able to get them 
 into good condition by distributing the same amount 
 of meat over seven days that they previously had in 
 four. 
 
 ' Were the results satisfactory 1 The results were 
 far beyond my expectation. Comparing the sickness 
 and mortality in the establishment for the ten years 
 previous to my appointment, and for the eight years 
 and a half that have passed since these alterations 
 were introduced, I find that the sickness has been re- 
 duced by about one-third, and the annual mortality has 
 fallen from 97 per 1000 of the strength on the aver- 
 age of ten years to 4-9 per 1000 on the average of 
 eight years and a half. This is not entirely attribu- 
 table to the change of diet, though that was a most 
 important means. At the same time there were 
 other improvements introduced, such as increased 
 space in the dormitories, improved ventilation, and 
 abundant means of cold bathing all of which are 
 most important elements in preserving health. 
 
 ' I may mention another point with regard to health, 
 that on the average of the ten years the proportion of 
 boys reported unfit for military service by the surgeon 
 was 1 2 -4 per 1000 annually, principally on account of
 
 and Military Hygiene. 223 
 
 scrofulous cicatrices on the neck that would have pre- 
 vented them wearing the military stock, and during 
 the eight years and a half it has been reduced to 4-55 
 per 1000. // is now very little more than one-third of 
 what it used to be.'
 
 224 D?' Marshall and Military Hygiene . 
 
 NOTE P. 195. 
 
 EXTRACT from a work entitled 'Plans for the Defence of 
 Great Britain and Ireland, by Lieutenant-Colonel Dironi, 
 D. Q. M. G. in North Britain, 1797.' 
 
 ' In the island of Jamaica, in the West Indies, where the 
 troops are generally unhealthy in the garrisons along the coast, 
 and were particularly so in the years 1750 and 1751* a calamity 
 doubly alarming, as the island was threatened with an attack 
 by the combined forces of France and Spain, the late eminent 
 Sir Alexander Campbell determined to try a new experiment 
 for the accommodation of the troops. He chose an elevated 
 situation on the mountains behind Kingston, called Stony Hill, 
 where there was good water, a free circulation of air, and a 
 temperature of climate in general ten degrees cooler than in the 
 low country along the coast. The wood, which was cleared 
 from the hill, and the soil, which was clay, were the chief 
 materials used in constructing the barracks. The igth and 
 38th Regiments were sent there on their arrival from America, 
 and ground was allotted them for gardens. They enjoyed a 
 degree of robust health very unusual in that climate. When 
 not upon duty or under arms, they were employed in their 
 gardens, or in amusements, the whole day long. Their wives 
 and children enjoyed equal happiness ; and, in the course of 
 two years, this military colony, for so it appeared, had not at 
 any time a greater, if even so great, a proportion of men sick 
 as they would have had in Europe ; and there is reason to 
 believe that during that time they had nearly as many children 
 born in the regiment as they had lost men by death.' 
 
 The author was at this time adjutant-general in Jamaica.
 
 ART AND SCIENCE 
 
 Hepl yfrfffi* Txvr)Trfpi ri> bv eTTHrrri/jn). ARIST. AN. POST, 
 ii. xix. 4. 
 
 QtupijTiKrjs fi.lv (e7rtcrr?7/i?js) re'Xos dX^eta' irpaKTiKTJs o' lypov. 
 ARIST. 
 
 Per spccidatkam scimns nt sciaimts ; per praclicam scimns nt 
 operemnr. A VERROES.
 
 ART AND SCIENCE. 
 
 "\ 1 TE give these thoughts with this caution to our 
 readers as well as to ourselves, that they do 
 not run them out of breath. There is always a temp- 
 tation to push such contrasts too far. In fact, they 
 are more provocatives to personal independent thought 
 than anything else ; if they are more, they are mis- 
 chievous. Moreover, it must always be remembered 
 that Art, even of the lowest and most inarticulate 
 kind, is always tending towards a scientific form to 
 the discovery and assertion of itself; and Science, if 
 it deserves the name, is never absolutely barren, but 
 goes down into some form of human action becomes 
 an art. The two run into each other. Art is often 
 the strong blind man, on whose shoulders the lame and 
 seeing man is crossing the river, as in Bewick's tail- 
 piece. No artsman is literally without conscious 
 and systematized, selected knowledge, which is 
 science ; and no scientific man can remain absolutely 
 inoperative ; but of two men one may be predomi-
 
 228 
 
 Art and Science. 
 
 nantly the one, and another the other. The word 
 Science, in what follows, is used mainly in the sense 
 of information, as equivalent to a body of ascertained 
 truths as having to do with doctrines. The word 
 Art is used in the sense of practical knowledge and 
 applied power. The reader will find some excellent 
 remarks on this subject, in Thomson's Laws of 
 Thought, Introduction, and in Mill's Logic, book vi. 
 chap. xi. 
 
 IN MEDICINE, 
 
 ART 
 
 Looks to symptoms and occa- 
 sions. 
 
 Is therapeutic and prognostic. 
 
 Has a method. 
 
 Is ante mortem. 
 
 Looks to function more than 
 structure. 
 
 Runs for the stomach-pump. 
 Submits to be ignorant of 
 
 much. 
 Acts. 
 
 SCIENCE 
 Looks to essence and cause. 
 
 Is diagnostic. 
 Has a system. 
 Is post mortem. 
 Looks vice versa. 
 
 Studies the phenomena of 
 
 poisoning. 
 Submits to be ignorant of 
 
 nothing. 
 Speaks. 
 
 Science and Art are the offspring of light and 
 truth, of intelligence and will ; they are the parents 
 of philosophy that its father, this its mother. Art 
 comes up out of darkness, like a flower, is there 
 before you are aware, its roots unseen, not to be 
 meddled with safely ; it has grown from a seed, itself 
 once alive, perishing in giving birth to its child. It
 
 A rt and Science. 229 
 
 draws its nourishment from all its neighbourhood, 
 taking this, and rejecting that, by virtue 'of its elective 
 instinct knowing what is good for it ; it lives upon 
 the debris of former life. It is often a thing with- 
 out a name, a substance without an articulate form, 
 a power felt rather than seen. It has always life, 
 energy automatic energy. It goes upon its own 
 feet, and can go anywhere across a country, and 
 hunts more by scent than sight. Science goes upon 
 wheels, and must have a road or a rail. Art's leaves 
 and stem may be harsh and uncomely ; its flower 
 when its does flower is beautiful, few things in this 
 world more so. Science comes from the market ; it 
 is sold, can be measured and weighed, can be handled 
 and gauged. It is full of light ; but is lucid rather 
 than luminous ; it is, at its best, food, not blood, 
 much less muscle the fuel, not the fire. It is taken 
 out of a nursery, and is planted as men plant larches. 
 It is not propagated by seed ; rather by bud, often 
 by cutting. Many stick in leafy branches of such 
 trees, and wonder like children, why they don't 
 grow; they look well at first, 'but having no root 
 they wither away.' You may cover a hillside with 
 such plantations. You must court the sowing of the 
 winds, the dropping of the acorns, the dung of birds, 
 the rain, the infinite chances and helps of time, before 
 you can get a glen feathered with oak-coppice or 
 birks. You will soon sell your larches ; they are
 
 230 A rt and Science. 
 
 always in demand ; they make good sleepers. You 
 will not get a walking-stick out of them, a crutch for 
 your old age, or a rib for a 74. You must take them 
 from a wind-sown, wind-welded and heartened tree. 
 Science is like cast-iron ; soon made, brittle, and 
 without elasticity, formal, useless when broken. Art 
 is like malleable iron ; tough, can cut, can be used 
 up ; is harder and has a spring. Your well-informed, 
 merely scientific men, are all alike. Set one agoing 
 at any point, he brings up as he revolves the same 
 figures, the same thoughts, or rather ghosts of 
 thoughts, as any ten thousand others. Look at 
 him on one side, and, like a larch, you see his whole; 
 every side is alike. Look at the poorest hazel, hold- 
 ing itself by its grappling talons on some grey rock, 
 and you never saw one like it ; you will never see 
 one like it again ; it has more sides than one ; it has 
 had a discipline, and has a will of its own ; it is self- 
 taught, self-sufficient. 
 
 Wisdom is the vital union of Art and Science ; an 
 individual result of the two : it is more excellent than 
 either ; it is the body animated by the soul ; the will, 
 knowing what to do, and how to do it ; the members 
 capable of fulfilling its bidding ; the heart nourishing 
 and warming the whole ; the brain stimulating and 
 quickening the entire organism.
 
 Art arid Science. 
 
 231 
 
 SCIENCE AND ART, A CONTRASTED 
 PARALLEL. 
 
 ART 
 
 SCIENCE 
 
 Knows little of its birth. 
 
 Knows its birth; registers it, 
 
 
 and its after history. 
 
 Knows more of its progeny. 
 
 Has often no progeny at all. 
 
 Invents. 
 
 Discovers. 
 
 Uses the imperative. 
 
 Uses the indicative. 
 
 Is founded on experience. 
 
 Is antecedent to experience. 
 
 Teaches us to do. 
 
 Teaches us to know. 
 
 Is motive and dynamical. 
 
 Is statical and has no feet. 
 
 Is eductive and conductive. 
 
 Is inductive and deductive. 
 
 Involves knowledge. 
 
 Evolves it 
 
 Buys it, making of it what it 
 
 Makes it up, and sells it. 
 
 likes, and needs, and no 
 
 
 more. 
 
 
 Mas rules. 
 
 Has laws. 
 
 Is synthetical more than ana- 
 
 Is the reverse. 
 
 lytical. 
 
 
 Is regulative and administra- 
 
 Is legislative and judicial ; says 
 
 tive, and shows the h<rw, 
 
 what ; says little as to how, 
 
 cares less about the why. 
 
 but much as to why. 
 
 Eats ; makes muscles, and 
 
 Makes food, cooks it, serves it 
 
 brains, and bones, and teeth, 
 
 up. 
 
 and fingers of it, without 
 
 
 very well knowing how. 
 
 
 Is strong in organic life, and 
 
 Is strong in animal life, and 
 
 dwells in the non-ego. 
 
 dwells in the ego. 
 
 Is unconscious. 
 
 Is conscious. 
 
 Is a hand that handles tools ; 
 
 Is a sword, or a knife, or a 
 
 is executive. 
 
 pen, or, in a word, an in- 
 
 
 strument 
 
 Does something, and could do 
 
 Says something, and can say 
 
 it again. 
 
 it again. 
 
 Is gold. 
 
 Is coin. 
 
 Apprehends. 
 
 Comprehends.
 
 Art and Science. 
 
 ART 
 Is endogenous, and grows from 
 
 within. 
 Is often liferented ; dies with its 
 
 Forges the mind. 
 
 Makes knowledge a means. 
 
 Is a master, and keeps ap- 
 prentices. 
 
 Holds by the will. 
 
 Is effect. 
 
 Is great in rb 6V t. 1 
 
 Is science embodied material- 
 ized. 
 
 Is the outflowing of mind into 
 nature. 
 
 Is man acting on nature. 
 
 Gives form, excellency, and 
 beauty, to the rude material 
 on which it operates. 
 
 Uses one eye. 
 
 SCIENCE 
 Is exogenous, and grows from 
 
 without. 
 Is transmissible. 
 
 Furnishes it. 
 
 Makes it an end. 
 
 Is a teacher, and has scholars. 
 
 Holds by the understanding. 
 
 Is cause. 
 
 Is great in -rb Sidri. 
 
 Is art spiritualized. 
 
 Is the inflowing of nature into 
 
 mind. 
 
 Is nature speaking to man. 
 Gives form, excellency, and 
 
 beauty, to the otherwise 
 
 uninformed intelligence in 
 
 which it resides. 
 Uses the other. 
 
 WISDOM 
 
 Uses both, and is stereoscopic, discerning solidity as well as 
 surface, and seeing on both sides ; its vision being the unum quid 
 of two images. 
 
 My friend, Dr. Adams of Banchory, tells me that 
 Bacon somewhere calls Science and Art a pair 
 of Cyclops, and that Kant calls them twin Poly- 
 phemes. 
 
 1 'Apx^l "yotp TO STI' Kal fl TOVTO <j>alvoiro tipKOvrus, ovdtv 
 irpoffderiffei TOV 5i6rt Principium est enim scire rem ita esse ; 
 quod si satis sit perspicuum, cur ita sit non magnopere desidera- 
 bitur. ARIST. ETH. A. iv.
 
 A rt and Science. 233 
 
 It may be thought that I have shown myself, in 
 this parallel and contrast, too much of a partisan for 
 Art as against Science, and the same may be not 
 unfairly said of much of the rest of this volume : it 
 was in a measure on purpose ; the general tendency 
 being counteractive of the purely scientific and posi- 
 tive, or merely informative current of our day. We 
 need to remind ourselves constantly, that this kind 
 of knowledge puffeth up, and that it is something 
 quite else which buildeth up. 1 It has been finely 
 said that Nature is the Art of God, and we may as 
 truly say that all art in the widest sense, as practical 
 and productive is his science. He knows all that 
 goes to the making of everything, for He is himself, 
 in the strictest sense, the only maker. He knows 
 what made Shakspere and Newton, Julius Cassar and 
 Plato, what we know them to have been, and they 
 are his by the same right as the sea is, and the 
 strength of the hills, for He made them and his 
 hands formed them, as well as the dry land. This 
 making the circle for ever meet, this bringing Omega 
 eternally round to Alpha, is, I think, more and more 
 revealing itself as a great central, personal, regulative 
 truth, and is being carried down more than ever into 
 the recesses of physical research, where Nature is 
 fast telling her long-kept secrets, all her tribes speak- 
 ing each in their own tongue the wonderful works of 
 
 1 Advancement of Learning, pp. 8-n. Pickering's Ed.
 
 234 Art and Science. 
 
 God the sea is saying, It is not in me, everything 
 is giving up any title to anything like substance, 
 beyond being the result' of the one Supreme Will. 
 The more chemistry, and electrology, and life, are 
 searched into by the keenest and most remorseless 
 experiment, the more do we find ourselves admitting 
 that motive power and force, as manifested to us, is 
 derived, is in its essence immaterial, is direct from 
 Him in whom we live and move, and to whom, in a 
 sense quite peculiar, belongeth power. 
 
 Gravitation, we all allow, is not proveable to be 
 inherent in matter; it is ab extra; and as it were, 
 the attraction of his offspring to the infinite Parent, 
 their being drawn to Him the spirit, the vis motiva, 
 returning to Him who gave it. 
 
 The Dynamical Theory, as it is called, tends this 
 way. Search into matter, and try to take it at the 
 quick ere it is aware, the nearer you are to it the less 
 material it seems ; it as it were recedes and shrinks 
 like moonlight vanishing as soon as scanned, and 
 seems, as far as we can yet say, and as old Boscovich 
 said, little else than a congeries of forces. Matter 
 under the lens, is first seen as made up of atoms 
 swimming in nothing; then further on, these atoms 
 become themselves translucent, and, as if scared, 
 break up and disappear. So that, for anything we 
 are getting to know, this may be the only essence of 
 matter, that it is capable of being acted upon, so as
 
 A rt and Science. 235 
 
 to re-act ; and that here, as well as in all that is more 
 usually called spiritual and dynamical, God is all in 
 all, the beginning, as he certainly is the ending ; and 
 that matter is what it is, simply by his willing it, and 
 that his willing it to be, constitutes its essence. 1 
 
 1 The doctrine of the unity of nature, however difficult of 
 physical proof by experiment, and we might a priori expect 
 it to be very difficult, for in such a case we must go up against 
 the stream, instead of, as in analytics, going with it, it is a 
 secret of nature, and she refuses stoutly to give it up, you can 
 readily split the sunbeam into its spectrum, its chemical and 
 electric rays ; you cannot so readily gather them up into one, 
 but metaphysically, it has always seemed to me more than 
 probable. If God is one, as we believe, and if he made all 
 worlds out of nothing by his word, then surely, the nearest 
 thing to the essence of all nature, when she came from God, 
 the materies materia:, must partake of his unity, or in words used 
 elsewhere (Preface to Dr. Samuel Brown's Lectures and Essays], 
 and somewhat altered : ' If we believe that matter and all 
 created existence is the immediate result of the will of the Su- 
 preme, who of old inhabited his own eternity, and dwelt alone ; 
 that he said "fiat!" etfit, that Nature is for ever uttering to 
 the great I AM, this one speech " THOU ART!" is not the 
 conclusion irresistible, that matter thus willed, resulting, as it 
 does, in an external world, and, indeed, in all things visible and 
 invisible, must partake of the absolute unity of its Author, and 
 must, in any essence which it may be said to possess, be itself 
 necessarily ONE, being by the same infinite Will made what we 
 find it to be, multiform and yet one : 
 
 "One God, one law, one element."' 
 
 In reference to this doctrine, Faraday, and indeed all advanced 
 chemists and physicists, indicate that they are, as children used 
 to say in their play, 'getting warm,' and nearing this great 
 consummation, which will be the true philosophy of material 
 science, its education from the multiple and complex, into the 
 simple and one-fold.
 
 236 A rt and Science. 
 
 The more the microscope searches out the mole- 
 cular structure of matter, the thinner does its object 
 become, till we feel as if the veil were not so much 
 being withdrawn, as being worn away by the keen 
 scrutiny, or rent in twain, until at last we come to 
 the true Shechinah, and may discern through it, if 
 our shoes are off, the words ' I AM,' burning, but not 
 consumed. 
 
 There is a Science of Art, and there is an Art of 
 Science the Art of Discovery, as by a wonderful 
 instinct, enlarging human knowledge. Some of the 
 highest exercises of the human spirit have been here. 
 All primary discoverers are artists in the sciences 
 they work in. Newton's guess that the diamond 
 was inflammable, and many instances which must 
 occur to the reader, are of the true artsman kind ; he 
 did it by a sort of venatic sense knowing somewhat, 
 and venturing more coming events forecasting their 
 shadows, but shadows which the wise alone can 
 interpret. A man who has been up all night, while 
 the world was asleep, and has watched the day-spring, 
 the light shooting and circulating in the upper heavens, 
 knows that the sun is coming, that ' the bright pro- 
 cession' is 'on its way.' It shines afar to him, be- 
 cause he has watched it from his Fesole, and presaged 
 the dawn. The world in general has not been an 
 early riser ; it is more given to sit late ; it frequents 
 the valleys more than the mountain-tops. Thus it is,
 
 A rt and Science. 237 
 
 that many discoveries, which to us below seem 
 mysterious, as if they had a touch of witchcraft about 
 them, are the plain, certain discoveries of sagacious 
 reason higher up. The scientific prophet has done 
 all this, as Ruskin says, by 'the instinctive grasp 
 which the healthy imagination 1 has of possible truth ;' 
 but he got the grasp and the instinct, and his means, 
 from long rigorous practice with actual truth. 
 
 We ought to reverence these men, as we stand 
 afar off on the plain, and see them going up 'the 
 
 1 The part which imagination plays in all primary discoveries 
 might be here enlarged on, were there room. Here, as every- 
 where else, the difficulty is to keep the mean, and avoid too 
 much wing, or too little. A geologist or chemist without 
 imagination, is a bird without wings ; if he wants the body of 
 common sense, and the brain of reason, he is like a butterfly ; he 
 may be a 'child of the sun,' and his emblazoned wings be 'rich 
 as an evening sky,' but he is the sport of every wind of doctrine, 
 he nutters to and fro purposeless, is brilliant and evanescent as 
 the flowers he lives on. Rather should he be like the seraphim, 
 ' who had six wings, with twain he covered his feet, with twain 
 he covered his face, and with twain he did fly ; ' reverence, 
 modesty, and caution a habit of walking humbly are as much 
 part of a great philosopher as insight and daring. But I believe 
 there has been no true discoverer, from Galileo and Kepler, to 
 Davy, Owen, and our own Goodsir the Nimrods of ' possible 
 truth' without wings; they have ever had as their stoutest, 
 stanchest hound, a powerful and healthy imagination to find 
 and 'point' the game. None of these men remained within 
 the positive known, they must hypothesize, as Warburton calls 
 it ; they must, by a necessity of their nature, reach from the 
 known out into the unknown. The great thing is to start from 
 .1 truth ; to have a punctum stans from which to move.
 
 238 Art and Science. 
 
 mount,' and drawing nearer into the darkness where 
 God dwells : they will return with a message for us. 
 
 This foretelling, or power of scientific anticipation, 
 is, as we have said, the highest act of scientific man, 
 and is an interpenetration of 'Emo-n^r/ and Te^vij. 
 
 Such a view as I have given, is in harmony with 
 revelation, and unites with it in proclaiming the 
 moral personality, not less than the omnipotence of 
 God, who thus, in a sense quite literal, 'guides all 
 the creatures with his eye, and refreshes them with 
 his influence, making them feel the force of his 
 Almightiness.' (Jeremy Taylor.) 1 Every one must 
 remember the sublimely simple shutting up of the 
 Principia, as by 'a sevenfold chorus of hallelujahs 
 and harping symphonies.' The humility of its author 
 has a grandeur in it greater than any pride ; it is as 
 if that lonely, intrepid thinker, who had climbed the 
 heavens by that ladder he speaks of in such modest 
 and homely phrase (patient observation, in which, if 
 in anything, he thought he excelled other men, the 
 never missing a step), after soaring ' above the wheel- 
 ing poles,' had come suddenly to 'heaven's door,' 
 and at it looked in, and had prostrated himself before 
 'the thunderous throne.' 8 
 
 There is here the same strength, simplicity, and 
 
 r6 irav, fiftfav TOV TrdvTos u 
 T# overly, oOrws Kal d/g. RESP. AD ORTHOD. 
 2 Milton, Vacation Exercise, anno tztalis 19.
 
 A rt and Science. 239 
 
 stern beauty and surprise, as of lightning and thunder, 
 the same peremptory assertion and reiteration of the 
 subject, like 'harpers harping upon their harps,' and 
 the same main burden and refrain, as in the amazing 
 chorus which closes Handel's ' Messiah.' We give 
 it for its own grandeur, and for its inculcation of the 
 personality of God, so much needed now, and without 
 which human responsibility, and moral obligation, 
 and all we call duty, must be little else than a dream. 
 
 ' Hie omnia regit non ut anima mundi, sed ut 
 universorum dominus. Et propter dominium suum, 
 dominus deus Tl.avroKpa.TMp dici solet. Nam deus 
 est vox relativa et ad servos refertur : et deitas est 
 dominatio dei, non in corpus proprium, uti sentiunt 
 quibus deus est anima mundi, sed ifi servos. Deus 
 summus est ens aeternum, infinitum, absolute per- 
 fectum : sed ens utcunque perfectum sine dominio 
 non est dominus deus. Dicimus enim deus meus, 
 deus vester, deus Israelis, deus deorum, et dominus 
 dominorum : sed non dicimus aeternus meus, seternus 
 vester, aeternus Israelis, aeternus deorum ; non dicimus 
 infinitus meus, vel perfectus meus. Hae appellationes 
 relationem non habent ad servos. Vox deus passim 
 significat dominum : sed omnis dominus non est 
 deus. Dominatio entis spiritualis deum constituit, 
 vera verum, summa summum, ficta fictum. Et ex 
 dominatione vera sequitur deum verum esse vivum,
 
 240 Art and Science. 
 
 intelligentem et potentem ; ex reliquis perfectionibus 
 summum esse, vel summe perfectum. ^Eternus est 
 et infinitus, omnipotens et omnisciens, id est, durat 
 ab aeterno in asternum, et adest ab infinite in infini- 
 tum : omnia regit ; et omnia cognoscit quae fiunt aut 
 fieri possunt. Non est ceternitas et infinitas, scd 
 tzternus ct infinitus ; non est duratio et spatium, scd 
 durat et adest. Durat semper, et adest ubique, et 
 existendo semper et ubique, durationem et spatium 
 constituit. . . . 
 
 ' Hunc (Deum) cognoscimus solummodo per pro- 
 prietates ejus et attributa, et per sapientissimas et 
 optimas rerum structuras et causas finales, et admir- 
 amur ob perfectiones ; veneramur autem et colimus 
 ob dominium. Colimus enim ut servi, et deus sine 
 dominio, providentia, et causis finalibus nihil aliud 
 est quam fatum et natura. A caeca necessitate meta- 
 physica, quae utique eadem est semper et ubique, 
 nulla oritur rerum variatio. Tota rerum condita- 
 rum pro locis ac temporibus diversitas, ab ideis et 
 voluntate entis necessario existentis solummodo oriri 
 potuit.' Prindpia, Ed. 3 tia> pp. 528-29 ; London, 
 1726. 
 
 ' Nous accordons a la raison le pouvoir de nous 
 demontrer 1'existence du Createur, de nous instruire 
 de ses attributs infinis et de ses rapports avec 1'en- 
 semble des etres ; mais par le sentiment nous entrons 
 en quelque sorte en commerce plus intime avec lui,
 
 A rt and Science. 2 4 1 
 
 et son action sur nous est plus immediate et plus 
 pre'sente. Nous professons un dgal eloignement et 
 pour le mysticisme qui, sacrifiant la raison au senti- 
 ment et 1'homme a Dieu, se perd dans les splendeurs 
 de 1'infini et pour le panthe'isme, qui refuse a Dieu 
 les perfections mgmes de 1'homme, en admettant sous 
 ce nom on ne sait quel etre abstrait, prive* de con- 
 science et de libertd. Grace a cette conscience de 
 nous-memes et de notre libre arbitre, sur laquelle se 
 fondent a la fois et notre me'thode et notre philoso- 
 phic tout entiere, ce dieu abstrait et vague dont nous 
 venons de parler, le dieu du panthe'isme devient a 
 jamais impossible, et nous voyons a sa place la Provi- 
 dence, le Dieu libre et saint que le genre humain 
 adore, le tegislateur du monde moral, la source en 
 m6me temps que 1'objet de cet amour insatiable du 
 beau et du bien qui se mele au fond de nos ames 
 a des passions d'un autre ordre.' Dictionnaire des 
 Sciences Philosophiques, par une Socie'te' des Profes- 
 seurs et Savans. Preface, pp. viii. ix.
 
 OUR GIDEON GRAYS. 
 
 ' Agricolam laudal 
 Sub galli canlum consultor ubi ostia puisai. ' 
 
 '/ would rather go back to Africa than practise again at 
 Peebles' MUNGO PARK.
 
 OUR GIDEON GRAYS. 1 
 
 TT might perhaps have been better, if our hard- 
 headed, hard-hitting, clever, and not over-man- 
 suete friend ' Fuge Medicos' 1 had never allowed those 
 ' wild and stormy writings' of his to come into print, 
 and it might perhaps also have been as well, had we 
 told him so at once ; but as we are inclined to be 
 optimists when a thing is past, we think more good 
 than evil has come out of his assault and its repulse. 
 ' F. M.' (we cannot be always giving at full length 
 his uncouth Hoffmannism) has, in fact, in his second 
 letter, which is much the better, answered his first, 
 and turned his back considerably upon himself, by 
 abating some of his most offensive charges ; and our 
 
 1 The following short paper from the Scotsman was occa- 
 sioned by a correspondence in that newspaper, in which doctors 
 in general, and country doctors in particular, were attacked and 
 defended. It is reprinted here as a record of the amazing facts 
 brought out by Dr. Alison's Association. In the attack by 
 ' Fuge Medicos,' consisting of two long letters, there was much 
 ability with not much fairness, and not a little misapplied energy 
 of language, and sharpness of invective.
 
 246 Our Gideon Grays. 
 
 country doctors in their replies have shown that 
 they have sense as well as spirit, and can write like 
 gentlemen, while they of the town have cordially and 
 to good purpose spoken up for their hard-working 
 country brethren. 
 
 We are not now going to adjudicate upon the 
 strictly professional points raised by ' F. M.,' whether, 
 for instance, bleeding is ever anything but mischiev- 
 ous ; whether the constitution, or type of disease, 
 changes or not ; whether Dr. Samuel Dickson of 
 ' the Fallacies' is an impudent quack or the Newton 
 of medicine ; whether Dr. Wilkinson is an amiable 
 and bewildered Swedenborgian, with much imagina- 
 tion, little logic, and less knowledge, and a wonderful 
 power of beautiful writing, or the herald of a new 
 gospel of health. We may have our own opinions 
 on these subjects, but their discussion lies out of our 
 beat ; they are strictly professional in their essence, 
 and ought to remain so in their treatment. We are 
 by no means inclined to deny that there are ignorant 
 and dangerous practitioners in the country, as well as 
 in the city. What we have to say against ' F. M.' 
 and in favour of the class he has attacked is, that 
 no man should bring such charges against any large 
 body of men, without offering such an amount and 
 kind of proof of their truth, as, it is not too much to 
 say, it is impossible for any mere amateur to pro- 
 duce, even though that amateur were as full of will
 
 Our Gideon Grays. 247 
 
 and energy as ' F. M. ;' and unless he can do so, he 
 stands convicted of something very like what he him- 
 self calls ' reckless, maleficent stupidity.' It is true, 
 ' F. M.' speaks of ' ignorant country doctors ;' but 
 his general charges against the profession have little 
 meaning, and his Latin motto still less, if ignorance 
 be not predicated of country doctors in general. 
 One, or even half a dozen worthless, mischievous 
 country doctors, is too small an induction of par- 
 ticulars, to warrant ' F. M.' in inferring the same 
 qualities of some 500 or more unknown men. But 
 we are not content with proving the negative : we 
 speak not without long, intimate, and extensive know- 
 ledge of the men who have the charge of the lives of 
 our country population, when we assert, that not only 
 are they as a class fully equal to other rural profes- 
 sional men in intelligence, humanity, and skill, and 
 in all that constitutes what we call worth, but that, 
 take them all in all, they are the best educated, the 
 most useful, the most enlightened, as they certainly 
 are the worst paid and hardest-worked country 
 doctors in Christendom. Gideon Gray, in Scott's 
 story of the Surgeon's Daughter, is a faithful type of 
 this sturdy, warm-hearted, useful class of men, ' under 
 whose rough coat and blunt exterior,' as he truly says, 
 'you find professional skill and enthusiasm, intelli- 
 gence, humanity, courage, and science.' 
 
 Moreover, they have many primary mental quali-
 
 248 Our Gideon Grays. 
 
 ties in which their more favoured brethren of the city 
 are necessarily behind them self-reliance, presence 
 of mind, simplicity and readiness of resource, and a 
 certain homely sagacity. These virtues of the mind 
 are, from the nature of things, more likely to be fully 
 brought out, where a man must be self-contained 
 and everything to himself; he cannot be calling in 
 another to consult with him in every anxious case, or 
 indulge himself in the luxury of that safety which has 
 waggishly been expounded as attaching more to the 
 multitude of counsellors than to the subject of their 
 counsel. Were this a fitting place, we could relate 
 many instances of this sagacity, decision, and tact, 
 as shown by men never known beyond their own 
 countryside, which, if displayed in more public life, 
 would have made their possessors take their place 
 among our public great men. 
 
 Such men as old Reid of Peebles, Meldrum of 
 Kincardine, Darling of Dunse, Johnston of Stirling, 
 Clarkson (the original of Gideon Gray) and Anderson 
 of Selkirk, Robert Stevenson of Gilmerton, Kirkwood 
 of Auchterarder, and many as good these were not 
 likely to be the representatives of a class who are 
 guilty of ' assaults upon life,' ' who are let loose upon 
 some unhappy rural district, to send vigorous men 
 and women to their graves,' who 'in youth have 
 been reckless and cruel, given to hanging sparrows 
 and cats, and fit for no humane profession/ etc. etc.
 
 Our Gideon Grays. 249 
 
 Now, is there either good sense, good feeling, or 
 good breeding, in using these unmeasured terms 
 against an entire class of men? Assuming as from 
 the subtlety and hairsplitting character of his argu- 
 ments, and the sharpness and safety of his epithets, 
 we are entitled to do that 'F. M.' belongs to an- 
 other of the learned professions, we ask, ' What 
 would he say if a ' Fuge Juiidicos' were to rise up, 
 who considered that the true reading in Scripture 
 should be, ' The devil was a lawyer from the begin- 
 ning,' asserting that all country lawyers in Scotland 
 were curses to the community, that it would be well 
 if the Lord Advocate ' would try half a dozen every 
 year,' for devouring widows' houses, and other local 
 villanies ; and, moreover, what would he think of 
 the brains and the modesty of an M.D. making an 
 assault upon the legal profession on purely profes- 
 sional questions, and settling, ab extra, and off-hand 
 and for ever, matters which the wisest heads ab intra 
 have left still in doubt ? The cases are strictly 
 parallel; and it is one of the worst signs of our 
 times, this public intermeddling of everybody, from 
 the Times down to ' F. M.,' with every science, pro- 
 fession, and trade. Sydney Smith might now say of 
 the public, what he said of the Master of Trinity, 
 ' Science is his forte, omniscience is \i\sfoible? Every 
 profession, and every man in it, knows something 
 more and better than any non-professional man can,
 
 250 Our Gideon Grays. 
 
 and it is the part of a wise man to stick to his trade. 
 He is more likely to excel in it, and to honour and 
 wonder at the skill of others. For it is a beautiful 
 law of our nature that we must wonder at everything 
 which we see well done, and yet do not know how it 
 is done, or at any rate know we could not do it. 
 Look at any art, at boot-closing, at a saddler at his 
 work, at basket-making, at our women with their 
 nimble and exact fingers somebody is constantly 
 doing something which everybody cannot do, and 
 therefore everybody admires. We are afraid ' F. M.' 
 does not know many things he could not do. 
 
 We repeat that our Gideon Grays are, as a class, 
 worthy and intelligent, skilful and safe, doing much 
 more good than evil. 1 They deserve well of, and 
 live in the hearts of the people, and work day and 
 night for less than anybody but themselves and their 
 wives are likely ever to know, for they are most of 
 them unknown to the Income-tax collectors. They 
 are like the rest of us, we hope, soberer, better read, 
 more enlightened, than they were fifty years ago ; 
 they study and trust Nature more, and conquer her 
 by submission ; they bleed and blister less, and are 
 more up to the doctrine that prevention is the best 
 of all cures. They have participated in the general 
 acknowledgment among the community, thanks to 
 the two Combes and others, and to the spirit of the 
 1 Note, p. 257.
 
 Our Gideon Grays. 2 5 1 
 
 age, of those divine laws of health which He who 
 made us implanted in us, and the study and obedi- 
 ence of which is a fulfilling of His word. We can 
 only hope that our clever and pancratic friend, 
 ' F. M.,' if on his autumn holidays in Teviotdale or 
 Lochaber, he has his shoulder or his lower jaw dis- 
 located, or has a fit of colic or a hernia, or any of 
 those ills which even his robust self is heir to, may 
 have sense left him to send for Gideon Gray, and 
 to trust him, and, making a slight alteration on his 
 HorTmannism, may be led to cry lustily out, in worse 
 Latin and with better sense ' Fuge pro Medico? 
 Run for the Doctor ! 
 
 As already said, all of us who have been much in 
 the country know the hard life of its doctors how 
 much they do, and for how little they do it ; but we 
 daresay our readers are not prepared for the follow- 
 ing account of their unremunerated labour among 
 paupers : 
 
 In 1846, a voluntary association of medical men 
 was formed in Edinburgh, with the public-hearted 
 Dr. Alison as chairman. Its object was to express 
 their sympathy with their brethren in the remote 
 country districts of Scotland, in regard to their un- 
 remunerated attendance on paupers, and to collect 
 accurate information on this subject. The results 
 of their benevolent exertions may be found in the 
 Appendix to the First Report of the Board of Super-
 
 252 Oiir Gideon Grays. 
 
 vision. It is probably very little known beyond 
 those officially concerned ; we therefore give some 
 of its astounding and lamentable revelations. The 
 queries referred to the state and claims of the 
 medical practitioners in the rural districts of Scot- 
 land, in relation to their attendance upon the per- 
 manent or occasional parochial poor. Out of 325 
 returns, 94 had received some remuneration for 
 attendance and outlay. In one of these instances, 
 the remuneration consisted of three shillings for twelve 
 years' attendance on seventy constant, and thirteen occa- 
 sional fatipers ; a fine question in decimals what 
 would each visit come to? But worse remains. One 
 man attended 400 paupers for eight years, and never 
 received one farthing for his skill, his time, or his 
 drugs. Another has the same story to tell of 350, 
 some of them thirty miles off ; he moderately cal- 
 culates his direct loss, from these calls on his time 
 and his purse, at ^"70 a year. Out of 253 who 
 report, 208 state that, besides attending for nothing, 
 they had to give on occasions food, wine, and clothes, 
 and had to pay tolls, etc. 136 of the returns contain 
 a more or less definite estimate, in money value, of 
 their unrequited labours ; the sum-total given in by 
 them amounts to thirty-four thousand four hundred 
 and ffty-seven pounds in ten years I being at the rate 
 of ^238 for each / They seem to have calculated 
 the amount of medical attendance, outlay, and drugs,
 
 Our Gideon Grays. 253 
 
 for each pauper annually, at the very moderate 
 average of four shillings. 
 
 Is there any other country on the face of the earth 
 where such a state of matters can be found ? Such 
 active charity, such an amount of public good, is not 
 likely to have been achieved by men whose lives 
 were little else than the development of a juvenile 
 mania for hanging sparrows and cats. We believe 
 we are below the mark when we say, that over head, 
 the country doctors of Scotland do one-third of their 
 work for nothing, and this in cases where the receiver 
 of their attendance would scorn to leave his shoes or 
 his church seats unpaid. 
 
 We are glad to see that ' F. M.' reads Sir William 
 Hamilton. We doubt not he does more than read 
 him, and we trust that he will imitate him in some 
 things besides his energy, his learning, and his hardi- 
 hood of thought. As to his and other wise men's 
 pleasantries about doctors and their drugs, we all 
 know what they mean, and what they are worth ; 
 they are the bitter-sweet joking human nature must 
 have at those with whom it has close dealings its 
 priests, its lawyers, its doctors, its wives and hus- 
 bands ; the very existence of such expressions proves 
 the opposite ; it is one of the luxuries of disrespect. 
 But in 'F. M.Y hands these ancient and harmless 
 jokes are used as deadly solemnities "upon which 
 arguments are founded.
 
 254 O ur Gideon Grays. 
 
 To part pleasantly with him, nevertheless, we give 
 him three good old jokes : The Visigoths abandoned 
 an unsuccessful surgeon to the family of his deceased 
 patient, ' ut quod de eo facere voluerint, habeant potes- 
 tatem? Montaigne, who is great upon doctors, used 
 to beseech his friends, that if he felt ill they would let 
 him get a little stronger before sending for the doctor ! 
 Louis the Fourteenth, who, of course, was a slave to 
 his physicians, asked his friend Moliere what he did 
 with his doctor. ' Oh, Sire,' said he, ' when I am ill 
 I send for him. He comes, we have a chat, and 
 enjoy ourselves. He prescribes. I don't take it 
 and I am cured !' 
 
 We end with four quotations, which our strong- 
 headed friend 'F. M.,' we are sure, will cordially 
 relish : 
 
 ' In Juvene Theologo conscientias detrimentum, 
 In Juvene Legista bursse decrementum, 
 In Juvene Medico coemeterii incrementum.' 
 
 ' To imagine Nature incapable to cure diseases, is 
 blasphemy ; because that would be imputing imper- 
 fection to the Deity, who has made a great provision 
 for the preservation of animal life.' SYDENHAM. 
 
 ' When I consider the degree of patience and at- 
 tention that is required to follow nature in her slow 
 manner of proceeding, I am no longer surprised that 
 men of lively parts should be always repeating, " con- 
 traria adhibenda? But Hippocrates says : " Con-
 
 Our Gideon Grays. 255 
 
 traria paulatim adhibere oportet, et interquiescere. 
 Periculosius censeo inddere in medicum, qui nesciat 
 quiescere, quam qui nesciat contraria adhibere, nam qui 
 nescit quiesccre, nescit occasiones contraria adhibendi ; 
 quare nescit contraria adhibere, Qui nescit contraria 
 adhibere, tamen, si prudens est, scit quiescere, atque si 
 prodesse non potest, tamen non obest. Prcestantissimus 
 vero est medicus eruditus pariter ac prudens, qui novit 
 festinare lente; pro ipsius morbi urgentia, auxiliis 
 instare, atque in occasione uti maxime opporttmis, alioque 
 qttiescere." ' GRANT ON FEVERS, page 311. 
 
 ' Philosophi qui vitse rationem doceant, vitiis 
 eripiant oerumnas, metus, angustias, anxietates, 
 tristitias impotentias expugnent tranquillitati, hilari- 
 tati avTapKfta vindicent' STAHL. 
 
 I don't know who ' Quis' was, but the Hudibrastics 
 are vigorous : 
 
 THE COUNTRY SURGEON. 
 
 Luckless is he, whom hard fates urge on 
 
 To practise as a country surgeon 
 
 To ride regardless of all weather, 
 
 Through frost, and snow, and hail together 
 
 To smile and bow when sick and tired 
 
 Consider' d as a servant hired. 
 
 At every quarter of the compass, 
 
 A surly patient makes a rumpus, 
 
 Because he is not seen the first 
 
 (For each man thinks his case the worst). 
 
 And oft at two points diametric 
 
 Called to a business obstetric.
 
 256 Our Gideon Grays. 
 
 There lies a man with broken limb, 
 A lady here with nervous whim, 
 Who, at the acme of her fever, 
 Calls him a savage if he leave her. 
 For days and nights in some lone cottage 
 Condemned to live on crusts and pottage, 
 To kick his heels and spin his brains, 
 Waiting, forsooth, for labour's pains ; 
 And that job over, happy he, 
 If he squeeze out a guinea fee. 
 Now comes the night, with toil opprest, 
 He seeks his bed in hope of rest ; 
 Vain hope, his slumbers are no more, 
 Loud sounds the knocker at the door, 
 A farmer's wife at ten miles' distance, 
 Shouting, calls out for his assistance ; 
 Fretting and fuming in the dark, 
 He in the tinder strikes a spark, 
 And, as he yawning heaves his breeches, 
 Envies his neighbour blest with riches. 
 
 Quis. 
 Rdin. Ann. Register, 181;
 
 Our Gideon Grays. 257 
 
 NOTE. P. 250. 
 
 I HAVE to thank his son, Dr. Henry Anderson, who now 
 reigns in his stead, for the following notes of an ordinary day's 
 work of his father, whose sister was Mungo Park's wife. Sel- 
 kirk is the 'Middlemas' of Sir Walter. 
 
 ' Dr. Anderson practised in Selkirk for forty-five years, and 
 never refused to go to any case, however poor, or however deep 
 in his debt, and however far off. One wife in Selkirk said to 
 her neighbours, as he passed up the street, "There goes my 
 honest doctor, that brought a' my ten bairns into the world, 
 and ne'er got a rap for ane o' them." 
 
 ' His methodical habits, and perfect arrangement of his time, 
 enabled him to overtake his very wide practice, and to forget 
 no one. He rose generally at six every morning, often sooner, 
 and saw his severe cases in the town early, thus enabling him 
 to start for his long journeys ; and he generally took a stage to 
 breakfast of fifteen or twenty miles. 
 
 ' One morning he left home at six o'clock, and after being 
 three miles up the Yarrow, met a poor barefoot woman, who 
 had walked from St. Mary's Loch to have two teeth extracted. 
 Out of his pocket with his "key" (she, of course, shouting 
 " Murder ! murder ! mercy !") ; down sat the good woman ; the 
 teeth were out at once, and the doctor rode on his journey, to 
 breakfast at Eldinhope, fourteen miles up, calling on all his 
 patients in Yarrow as he rode along. After breakfast, by Dry- 
 hope, and along St. Mary's Loch, to the famed Tibby's, whose 
 son was badly, up to the head of the Loch of the Lows, and 
 over the high hills into Ettrick, and riding up the Tima to 
 Dalgliesh, and back down the Ettrick, landed at "Gideon's o'
 
 258 Our Gideon Grays. 
 
 the Singlie " to dinner ; and just when making a tumbler of 
 toddy, a boy was brought into the kitchen, with a finger torn 
 off in a threshing-mill. The doctor left after another tumbler, 
 and still making calls about Ettrickbridge, etc. , reached home 
 about eight, after riding fifty miles ; not to rest, however, for 
 various messages await his return ; all are visited, get medicines 
 from him, for there were no laboratories in his days, then home 
 to prepare all the various prescriptions for those he had seen 
 during the long day. He had just finished this when off he was 
 called to a midwifery case, far up Ale Water. 
 
 ' To show how pointed to time he was, one day he had to go 
 to Buccleugh, eighteen miles up the Ettrick, and having to ride 
 down the moors by Ashkirk, and then to go on to St. Boswell's 
 to see old Raeburn, he wished a change of horse at Riddell 
 fixed one o'clock, and one of his sons met him at a point of 
 the road at the very hour, though he had ridden forty miles 
 through hills hardly passable. 
 
 ' I have seen him return from the head of Yarrow half frozen, 
 and not an hour in bed till he had to rise and ride back the 
 same road, and all without a murmur. 
 
 ' It was all on horseback in his day, as there was only one 
 gig in the county ; and his district extended west up the valleys 
 of Ettrick and Yarrow about twenty miles ; south in Ale Water 
 seven to ten miles ; the same distance east ; and north about 
 fourteen miles by Tweedside, and banks of the Gala and Cad- 
 don. His early rising enabled him also to get through his other 
 work, for he made up all his books at that time, had accounts 
 ready, wrote all his business letters, of which he had not a few. 
 
 ' In coming home late in the night from his long journeys, 
 he often slept on horseback for miles together. In fine, he was 
 the hardest-worked man in the shire ; always cheerful, and 
 always ready to join in any cheerful and harmless amusement, 
 as well as every good work ; but he killed himself by if, bringing 
 on premature decay. ' 
 
 He was many years Provost of the Burgh, took his full share 
 of business, was the personal adviser of his patients, and had 
 more curatorships than any one else in the county. What a
 
 Our Gideon Grays. 259 
 
 pattern of active beneficence, bringing up three sons to his pro- 
 fession, giving his family a first-rate education, and never getting 
 anything for the half of his everyday' s work! We can fancy 
 we see the handsome, swarthy, ruddy old man coming jogging 
 (his normal pace) on his well-known mare down the Yarrow 
 by Black Andro (a wooded hill), and past Foulshiels (Mungo 
 Park's birthplace), after being all night up the glen with some 
 ' crying wife,' and the cottagers at Glower-ower-'im, blessing 
 him as he passed sound asleep, or possibly wakening him out of 
 his dreams, to come up and 'lance' the bairn's eye-tooth. 
 
 Think of a man like this a valuable, an invaluable public 
 servant, the king of health in his own region having to start 
 in a winter's night ' on-cling o' snavv' for the head of Ettrick, to 
 preside over a primiparo.us herd's wife, at the back of Boods- 
 beck, who was as normal and independent as her cows, or her 
 husband's two score of cheviots j to have to put his faithful and 
 well-bred mare (for he knew the value of blood) into the byre, 
 the door of which was secured by an old harrow, or possibly in 
 the course of the obstetric transaction by a snow-drift ; to have 
 to sit idle amid the discomforts of a shepherd's hut for hours, 
 no books, except perhaps a ten-year-old Belfast Almanac or the 
 Fourfold State (an admirable book), or a volume of ballads, all 
 of which he knew by heart, when all that was needed was, 
 ' Mrs. Jaup,' or indeed any neighbour wife, or her mother. 
 True, our doctor made the best of it, heard all the clavers of 
 the country, took an interest in all their interests, and was as 
 much at home by the side of the ingle, with its bit of 'licht' 
 or cannel coal, as he would be next day at Bowhill with the 
 Duchess. But what a waste of time, of health ! what a waste 
 of an admirable man ! and, then, with impatient young men, 
 what an inlet to mischievous interference, to fatal curtailing of 
 attendance !
 
 DR. ANDREW BROWN AND 
 SYDENHAM. 
 
 ' Physick of its own nature has no. more uncertainty or conjec- 
 turalness than these other noble professions of War, Law, Politicks, 
 Navigation, in all which the event can be no more predicted or 
 ascertained than in Physick, and all that the Artist is accomptable 
 for is the rational and prudent conduct that nothing be overdone 
 or undone." 1 Epilogue to the Five Papers lately passed betwixt 
 the two Physicians, Dr. O. and Dr. E. , containing some re- 
 marks pleasant and profitable, concerning the usefulness of 
 VOMITING and PURGING in FEVERS, by ANDREW BROWN, 
 M.D.
 
 DR. ANDREW BROWN AND 
 SYDENHAM. 
 
 A HUNDRED and ninety years ago, Dr. Andrew 
 Brown, the laird of Dolphinton, was a well- 
 known and indeed famous man in Edinburgh, and 
 not unknown in London and the general medical 
 world. Who now has ever heard of him ? Sic tran- 
 sit. To us in Edinburgh he is chiefly memorable as 
 having been the ancestor of Dr. Richard Mackenzie, 
 who perished so nobly and lamentably in the Crimea ; 
 and whose is one of the many graves which draw our 
 hearts to that bleak field of glory and havoc. We 
 who were his fellows, are not likely to see again em- 
 bodied so much manly beauty, so much devotion to 
 duty, so much zeal, honour, and affection. 
 
 But to the profession in Scotland, his great great 
 grandfather ought to be better known than he is, for 
 he was the first to introduce here the doctrines of 
 Sydenham, and to recommend the use of antimonial
 
 264 Dr. Andrew Brown 
 
 emetics in the first stage of fever. This he did in a 
 little book, called ' A Vindicatory Schedule concern- 
 ing the new cure of Fevers, containing a disquisition, 
 theoretical and practical, of the new and most effec- 
 tual method of cureing continual fevers, first invented 
 and delivered by the sagacious Dr. Thomas Syden- 
 hani.' Edin. 1691. 
 
 This book, and its author's energetic advocacy of 
 its principles by his other writings and by his prac- 
 tice, gave rise to a fierce controversy; and in the 
 library of the Edinburgh College of Physicians, there 
 is a stout shabby little volume of pamphlets on both 
 sides ' Replies,' and ' Short Answers,' and ' Refu- 
 tations,' and ' Surveys,' and ' Looking-Glasses,' ' De- 
 fences,' ' Letters,' ' Epilogues,' etc., lively and furious 
 once, but now resting together as quietly and as dead 
 as their authors are in the Old Greyfriars church-yard, 
 having long ceased from troubling. There is much 
 curious, rude, vigorous, hard-headed, bad-Englished 
 stuff in them, with their wretched paper and print, and 
 general ugliness ; much also to make us thankful that 
 we are in our own now, not their then. Such tearing 
 away with strenuous logic and good learning, at mere 
 clouds and shadows, with occasional lucid intervals 
 of sense, observation, and wit, tending too frequently 
 to wut. 
 
 Brown was a Whig, and a friend of Andrew Fletcher 
 and King William ; and in his little book on ' The
 
 and Sydenham. 265 
 
 Character of the True Publick Spirit,' besides much 
 honest good sense and advanced politics, there is a 
 clever and edifying parallel drawn between the dis- 
 eases of the body politic and those of the body 
 natural, and also an amusing classification of doc- 
 tors; 1 but for .all this, and much more excellent 
 matter, I have no space here. Dr. Brown thus de- 
 scribes his going up to London to visit Sydenham, 
 and see his practice : 
 
 ' But in the year 1687, perusing the first edition of 
 his Schedula Monitoria, where he delivers, as con- 
 firmed by manifold experience, not only a new, but 
 a quite contrarie method to the common, of curing 
 Continual Fevers : I did long hesitate, thinking that 
 either he, or all other Physicians, were grossly de- 
 ceived about the cure of Fevers ; if not, as their 
 patients used to be, they were in an high delirium ; 
 and lest the preconceived opinion that I had of the 
 man's ingenuity should so far impose upon my cre- 
 dulity, as to draw me into an error likeways with 
 him, and make me to experiment that method, when 
 I knew not but I might run the hazard to sacrifice 
 some to my temerity, nothing could settle my tossed 
 thoughts below the sight and knowledge of the thing 
 itself. 
 
 ' Presently, therefore, hastening to London, and 
 having met with the man, and exposed the occasion 
 1 Note, page 275.
 
 266 Dr. Andrew Brown 
 
 of my coming, I found all these tokens concerning 
 him and his practice, that use to beget unwarry per- 
 sons and prudent people making serious inquiry, 
 trust, and knowledge. Then after some months spent 
 in this society, returning home as much overjoyed 
 as I had gotten a treasure, I presently set myself to 
 that practice : which has proved so successful to 
 me, that since that time, of the many fevers that I 
 have treated, none were uncured, except my Lord 
 Creichton, whose case is related here ; and another 
 woman, whose dangerous circumstances made her 
 condition hopeless.' 
 
 There is a well-known story of Sydenham, which 
 goes by the name of ' The Lettsom Anecdote.' Dr. 
 Latham says it was communicated by Dr. Lettsom 
 to the Gentleman's Magazine of August 1801, and 
 was copied by him from the fly-leaf of a copy of the 
 Methodus curandi febris, which had been in the pos- 
 session of Dr. Sherson's family for fifty years. He 
 then quotes the story. I was much surprised and 
 pleased to find the original in Dr. Brown's Vindica- 
 tory Schedule ; it differs in some respects from the 
 second-hand one, and no one after reading it can 
 have any doubts that Sydenham bore arms for the 
 Commonwealth. 
 
 Dolphinton (as he was called by his townsmen) 
 writes as follows : 
 
 ' Neither can it go well away with good men, to
 
 and Sydenham, 267 
 
 think, that this great man, so oft by strange and 
 special Providences pluckt out of the very jaws of 
 death, has been preserved for an imposture, so dis- 
 male to mankind : Tho' I cannot stay to reckon 
 all the dangers among the calamities of the late civil 
 warrs (where he was an actor), that passed with great 
 difficulty over his head, as his being left in the field 
 among the dead, and many other dangers he met 
 with : yet there is one that, representing rather a 
 miracle than a common providence, cannot be passed 
 over, which, as I had from his own mouth, is thus, at 
 the same time of these civil warrs, where he dis- 
 charged the office of a captain, he being in his 
 lodging at London, and going to bed at night, with 
 his cloaths loosed, a mad drunk fellow, a souldier, 
 likewise in the same lodging, entering the room, with 
 one hand gripping him by the breast of his shirt, 
 with the other discharged a loaden pistol in his 
 bosome, yet, O strange ! without any hurt to him, 
 most wonderfully indeed, by such a narrow sheild as 
 the edge of the souldier's hand, was his breast 
 defended ; for the admirable providence of God 
 placed and fixed the tottering hand that gripped the 
 shirt into that place and posture, that the edge there- 
 of and all the bones of the metacarpe that make up 
 the breadth of the hand, were situate in a right line 
 betwixt the mouth of the pistol and his breast, and 
 so the bullet discharged neither declining to the one
 
 268 Dr. Andrew Brown 
 
 side nor to the other, but keeping its way thorrow 
 all these bones, in crushing them lost its force, and 
 fell at his feet. O ! wonderful situation of the hand, 
 and more wonderful course of the bullet ! by any 
 industry or art never again imitable ! And moreover 
 within a few days the souldier, taken with a fever 
 arising from so dangerous and complicat a wound, 
 died ; surely Providence does not bring furth so 
 stupendous miracles, but for some great and equiva- 
 lent end.' 
 
 We may take the Doctor's facts without homo- 
 logating his conclusions. There is nothing here 
 indicating on what side Sydenham served, but all the 
 probabilities from family connexion, from his own 
 incidental expressions and other circumstances, and 
 his having to flee from Oxford, the headquarters of 
 the Royalists, etc., go to make it more than likely 
 that he was what his laborious, ineffectual, and latest 
 biographer calls, in his unwieldly phrase, a 'Parlia- 
 mentarian.' 
 
 This passage is followed by a remarkable statement 
 by Dr. Brown, as to the persecution of Sydenham by 
 his brethren. This is peculiarly valuable as coming 
 from one personally acquainted with the great phy- 
 sician, having heard these things 'from his own 
 mouth,' and being published two years after his 
 death. Dr. Latham cannot now have any doubt 
 as to the envy and uncharitableness of the profession,
 
 and Sydenkam . 269 
 
 and the endeavour of his 'collegiate brethren' to 
 banish him out of 'that illustrious society' for ' medi- 
 cinal heresie.' . I give the entire passage, as I have 
 never before seen it noticed. 
 
 ' And further can it be thought that this great 
 man, who in all the course of his life gave so full 
 evidence of an ingenuous, generous, and perspicatious 
 spirit, would or could die an imposter and murderer 
 of mankind (which imputation to deserve, he fre- 
 quently professed, would be more heavy to him than 
 any punishment could be), for he it was, despising 
 the blandishments of the world, popular applause, 
 riches, and honour, yea his own health wasted with 
 intense and assiduous meditations and thoughtfulness, 
 that liberally sacrificed them all for the publick good : 
 In so far, that after he had long weighed and expended 
 the common and received methods of curing most 
 diseases, and therefore had forsaken and relinquished 
 them as vain and improper, and after his intimate 
 search into the bowels of nature he had discovered 
 others more aposite and powerful ; He thereby only 
 gained the sad and unjust recompence of calumny 
 and ignominy ; and that from the emulation of some 
 of his collegiate brethren, and others, whose indigna- 
 tion at length did culminat to that hight, that they 
 endeavored to banish him, as guilty of medicinal 
 heresie, out of that illustrious society ; and by the 
 whisperings of others he was baulked the imployment
 
 270 Dr. Andrew Brown 
 
 in the Royal Family, where before that he was called 
 among the first physicians.' 
 
 He then names those who had publicly given in 
 their adhesion to the new doctrines Dr. Goodal, 
 Dr. Brady, Dr. Paman, Dr. Cole, Dr. Ettmuller of 
 Leipsic, Dr. Doleus, physician to the Landgrave 
 of Hesse, Dr. Spon of Lyons, Dr. Michelthwait of 
 London, Dr. Morton, and Dr. Harris ; all these 
 before 1691. 
 
 Amid the dreary unreadable rubbish in this old 
 bundle, there is a most characteristic onslaught by 
 the famous Dr. George Cheyne upon Dr. Oliphant, 
 Dolphinton's friend and defender ; it is his pugilistic, 
 honest, reckless style, and is valuable for the testi- 
 mony he (at this time) a free-thinker in religion, 
 and a mathematical and mechanical physician (he 
 is defending Dr. Pitcairn) gives to the strictly Divine 
 origin of animal species. ' All animals, of what kind 
 soever, were originally and actually created at once 
 by the hand of Almighty God, it being impossible to 
 account for their production by any laws of mechanism : 
 and that every individual animal has, in minimis, 
 actually included in its loins all those who shall de- 
 scend from it, and every one of these again have all 
 their offspring lodged in their loins, and so on ad 
 infinitum; and that all these infinite numbers of 
 animalcules may be lodged in the bigness of a pin's 
 head.' Our own Owen would relish this intrepid
 
 and Sydenham. 2 7 1 
 
 and robust old speculator. But the jewel of this old 
 book is a letter from a physician at London, appended 
 to Dr. Oliphant's answer to the pretended refutation 
 of his defence. I am sure my readers will agree 
 with the Doctor, that it is 'neither impertinent nor 
 tedious,' and that it must have been written ' by one 
 whose wit and good humour are equal to his learning 
 and ingenuity.' 
 
 There was one man in London, a young Scotch 
 physician, who could have written this, and we may 
 say, Aut Arbuthnot, auf quis ? All the chances are 
 in favour of its being that famous wit and admirable 
 man, of whom Pope says, ' Swift said " he could do 
 everything but walk ;'" and Pope himself thinks he 
 was ' as good a doctor as any man for one that is ill, 
 and a better doctor for one that is well.' He had 
 shortly before this gone up to London from Aber- 
 deen, and had published in 1697, his examination of 
 Dr. Woodward's Account of the Deluge. 
 
 ' DEAR SIR, I thank you for the present of your 
 small Treatise about Vomiting in Fevers, but at the 
 same time I approve of your reasons, you must give 
 me leave to condemn your conduct : I know you 
 begin to storm at this ; but have a little patience. 
 There was a physician of this town, perhaps the most 
 famous in his time, being called to his patient, com- 
 plaining (it may be) of an oppression at his stomach ; 
 he would very safely and cautiously order him a
 
 272 Dr. Andrew Brown 
 
 decoction of carduus, sometimes hot water ; I don't 
 know but he would allow now and then fat mutton 
 broth too. The patient was vomited, and the doctor 
 could justifie himself that he had not omitted that 
 necessary evacuation ; this was his constant practice. 
 Being chid by his collegues, who well knew he 
 neglected antimony, not out of ignorance or fear, 
 he would roguishly tell them, " Come, come, gentle- 
 men, that might cure my patient, but it would kill 
 the distemper, and I should have less money in my 
 pocket. A pretty business indeed, a rich citizen 
 overgorges himself, which by management may be 
 improved into a good substantial fever, worth at least 
 twenty guineas ; and you would have me nip the 
 plant in the bud, have a guinea for my pains, and 
 lose the reputation of a safe practitioner to boot." 
 The gentleman had reason, all trades must live. 
 Alas ! our people here are grown too quick-sighted, 
 they will have antimonial vomits, and a physician 
 dares not omit them, tho' it is many a good fee out 
 of his pocket. Join, I say, with these wise gentle- 
 men ; they wish well to the Faculty ; procure an 
 order of the Colledge, and banish antimony the city 
 of Edinburgh, and the liberties thereof. 'Tis a bar- 
 barous thing in these hard times to strangle an infant 
 distemper ; they ought no more to be murdered than 
 young cattle in Lent. Let it be as great a crime to 
 kill a fever with an antimonial vomit, as to fish in
 
 and Sydenham. 273 
 
 spawning time. The Dutch physicians are like the 
 rest of their nation wise ; they banish that heathenish 
 Jesuitical drug, that would quickly reduce their prac- 
 tice to a narrow compass in the hopefulest distemper 
 of the countrey. These rogues that dream of nothing 
 but specificks and panaceas, I would have them all 
 hang'd, not so much for the folly of the attempt, as 
 the malice of their intention ; rascals, to starve so 
 many worthy gentlemen, that perhaps know no other- 
 wise to get their livelihood. Will the glasiers ever 
 puzle themselves to make glass malleable, would the 
 knitters ever so much as have dreamed of a stocking- 
 loom, or the young writers petition'd to have informa- 
 tions printed ; all those are wise in their generation, 
 and must the physicians be the only fools 1 
 
 'We all know here there is no danger in anti- 
 tnonial vomits, but this is inter nos ; you must not tell 
 your patient so, let him believe as I said before, that 
 antimonial vomits are dangerous, deleterial, break the 
 fibres of the stomach, etc., and that you cannot safely 
 give them. So shall you be stiled a cautious, safe 
 physician, one that won't spoil the curll of a man's 
 hair to pull him out of the river. We have some 
 dangerous dogs here, that in a quinsy, when a man 
 is ready to be chock'd, will blood him forty ounces 
 at once ; is not this extreamly hazardous 1 They cut 
 off limbs, cut for the stone ; is this safe ? I tell you 
 the reputation of a wary safe physician is worth all
 
 274 Dr. Andrew Brown 
 
 the parts of his character besides. Now I hope you 
 will allow I have reason for what I said. 
 
 ' I have seen the Melius Inquirendum, and am too 
 well acquainted with the stile and spelling, not to 
 know that it is Dr. Eyzat's ; but here I must be with 
 you again, how come you to write against one that 
 says two drams of emetick wine is a sufficient doze 
 for a man ? Suffer not such things to come abroad ; 
 they will imagine you are not got so far as the cir- 
 culation of the blood in Scotland; write seriously 
 against such people. Fy upon't, I will never allow 
 them to be above the dispensation of ballads and 
 doggrel, etc. I am, Sir, yours, etc. 
 
 'LONDON, August^, 1699.' 
 
 Nothing can be finer than the edge of this, nothing 
 pleasanter than its pleasantry ; that about murdering 
 young cattle in Lent, and the ' curll,' is Charles Lamb 
 all over; we know no one now-a-days who could 
 write thus, except the author of Esmond.
 
 and Sydenhani. 
 
 75 
 
 NOTE. P. 265. 
 
 CLASSIFICATIONS OF DOCTORS. 
 
 I. THOSE who drive the trade of ban companionrie and good, 
 fellowship. 2. The high-flown bigots in religion or State. 
 
 3. Hangers-on of great families, ' as having been domesticks ! ' 
 
 4. Those of 'a gentile meen.' Here is Dr. Beddoes' more 
 elaborate latrologia, or Linnoean method of physicians, like 
 Baron Born's of the Monks. 
 
 i. The philanthropic Doctor, having two varieties, a and 
 /3, the shy and the renegado. 2. The bullying D. , with Rad- 
 cliffe at their head. 3. The Bacchanalian D. 4. The solemn 
 D. 5. The club-hunting D. 6. The Burr D., centaurea cal- 
 citrapa. 7. The wheedling D. , with the variety of the Adonis 
 wheedling D. 8. The case-coining D. 9. The good-sort- 
 of-man D., with variety, and the gossiping good-sort-of-man 
 D., who 'fetches and carries scandal.' 10. The sectarian 
 D. ; variety o, the inspired sectarian D. 
 
 Beddoes concludes this Decade of Doctors, with notandiim 
 cst in toto hoc genere naturam mirabiles edere lusus. This is 
 applicable to all the species, there being mules and hybrids, 
 and occasionally monsters magnificent and dreadful, lil^e Para- 
 celsus. 
 
 Hartley Coleridge in his pleasant Life of Fothergill, after 
 alluding to this latrology, has the following on the exoteric 
 qualifications of a doctor : 
 
 ' Of these exoteric qualifications, some are outward and 
 visible ; as a good gentlemanly person, not alarmingly handsome 
 (for the Adonis Doctor, though he has a fair opening to a
 
 276 Dr. A. Brown and SydenJiam. 
 
 wealthy marriage, seldom greatly prospers in the way of busi- 
 ness), with an address to suit that is to say, a genteel self- 
 possession and subdued politeness, not of the very last polish 
 a slow, low, and regular tone of voice (here Dr. Fothergill's 
 Quaker habits must have been an excellent preparative), and 
 such an even flow of spirits as neither to be dejected by the 
 sight of pain and the weight of responsibility, nor to offend the 
 anxious and the suffering by an unsympathetic hilarity. The 
 dress should be neat, and rather above than below par in 
 costliness. 
 
 ' In fine, the young physician should carry a something of 
 his profession in his outward man, but yet so that nobody 
 should be able to say what it was.'
 
 FREE COMPETITION IN MEDICINE. 
 
 ' That doctors are sometimes fools as well as other people, is not, 
 in the present times, one of those profound secrets which is known 
 only to the learned ; it very seldom happens that a man trusts his 
 health to another, merely because that other is an M. D. The 
 person so trusted has almost always either some knowledge, or 
 some craft, which would procure him nearly the same trust, 
 though he was not decorated with any such title ! Adieu ! my 
 dear doctor ; I am afraid I shall get my lug (ear) in my lufe 
 (hand), as ^ve say, for what I have written? ADAM SMITH to 
 DR. CULLEN, September 20, 1774. 
 
 ' Lawyers, soldiers, tax-gatherers, policemen, are appendages of 
 a state, and some account should be taken of them by the civil 
 power. The clergy are officers of the church, and if the church is 
 a divine institution, they skotild have her license. Doctors are the 
 ministers of physical humanity at large, and should for a thou- 
 sand good reasons be left under the jurisdiction of the leviathanic 
 man whom they serve, yet under this condition that they shall be 
 answerable to the civil power for bodily injuries culpably inflicted 
 upon any of its subjects' COVENTRY DICK.
 
 FREE COMPETITION IN MEDICINE. 
 
 T HAVE long thought that it was nonsense and 
 worse, the avowed and universal exception of 
 the craft of healing from the action of Adam Smith's 
 law of free competition, introducing legislative enact- 
 ment and license into the public relations of medicine, 
 thus constituting a virtual monopoly. I may be per- 
 mitted to express this in an extract from a Review of 
 Professor Syme and Dr. Burt's Letters to Lord Pal- 
 merston, on Medical Reform. 1 
 
 ' And now for a closing word for ourselves. Mr. 
 Syme's scheme is, as we have fully stated, the best, 
 the simplest, and the least objectionable, if it be wise 
 and necessary for the State to do anything in the 
 matter. There is much in this if; and after consi- 
 deration of this difficult and little understood subject, 
 we are inclined to hold, that Adam Smith's law of 
 free competition is absolute, and applies to the 
 doctors of the community as well as to its shoe- 
 1 Edinburgh Medical Journal, December 1857.
 
 2 So Free Competition in Medicine. 
 
 makers. In a letter to Dr. Cullen, published for the 
 first time by Dr. John Thomson, in his life of that 
 great physician, written before the publication of The 
 Wealth of Nations, he, with excellent humour, argu- 
 ment, and sense, asserts that human nature may be 
 allowed safely, and with advantage, to choose its 
 own doctor, as it does its own wife or tailor. We 
 recommend this sagacious letter to the serious atten- 
 tion of all concerned. We give some specimens; 
 its date is 1774: "When a man has learned his 
 lesson well, it surely can be of little importance 
 where, or from whom he has learnt it. ... In the 
 Medical College of Edinburgh, in particular, the 
 salaries of the professors are insignificant, and their 
 monopoly of degrees is broken in upon by all other 
 universities, foreign and domestic. I require no other 
 explication of its present acknowledged superiority 
 over every other society of the same kind in Europe. 
 ... A degree can pretend to give security for no- 
 thing but the science of the graduate, and even for 
 that it can give but very slender security. For his 
 good sense and discretion, qualities not discoverable by 
 an academical examination, it can give no security 
 at all. . . . Had the Universities of Oxford and 
 Cambridge been able to maintain themselves in the 
 exclusive privilege of graduating all the doctors who 
 could practise in England, the price of feeling a pulse 
 might have by this time risen from two and three
 
 Free Competition in Medicine. 281 
 
 guineas" (would that "Time would run back and 
 fetch that age of gold !") "the price which it has now 
 happily arrived at, to double or triple that sum. . . . 
 The great success of quackery in England has been 
 altogether owing to the real quackery of the regular 
 physicians. Our regular physicians in Scotland have 
 little quackery, and no quack, accordingly, has ever 
 made his fortune among us." 
 
 ' Dr. Thomson did not find in Dr. Cullen's papers 
 any direct replies to the arguments of his friend ; but 
 in a Latin discourse pronounced two years after- 
 wards, at the graduation, he took occasion to state 
 in what respects the principles of free competition, 
 though applicable to mechanical trades, do, in his 
 opinion, not extend to the exercise of the profession 
 of medicine. His argument is conducted temper- 
 ately, and by no means confidently. He remarks, 
 with sagacity and candour, " that there are some who 
 doubt whether it is for the interest of society, or in 
 any way proper, to make laws or regulations for pre- 
 venting unskilled or uneducated persons from engag- 
 ing in the practice of medicine ; and it is very obvious, 
 that neither in this nor in most other countries, are 
 effectual measures adopted for this purposed His argu- 
 ment is the common, and we think unsound one, 
 that mankind can judge of its carpenter, but not 
 of its doctor; and that in the one case, life is at 
 stake, and not in the other, a fallacy easily exposed
 
 282 Free Competition in Medicine. 
 
 a floor may fall in and kill dozens, from bad joinery, 
 as well as a man die from mala praxis. We believe 
 that the same common sense regulates, or at least 
 may regulate, the choice of your family doctor, as 
 it does the choice of your architect, engineer, or 
 teacher. 
 
 ' If a man choose his architect or engineer from 
 his own personal knowledge of their respective arts 
 and sciences, he must either choose himself, and 
 forget his stair, or make very sure of choosing the 
 wrong man ; in this, as in so many things, we de- 
 pend on testimony and general evidence of capacity 
 and worth. 
 
 ' In a word, our petition to Parliament is, Make 
 a clean sweep ; remove every legislative enactment 
 regarding the practice of medicine ; leave it as free, 
 as unprotected, as unlicensed, as baking or knife- 
 grinding; let our Colleges of Physicians and Sur- 
 geons, Faculties, and Worshipful Companies, make 
 what terms they like for those who choose to enter 
 them; let the Horse Guards, let the Customs, let 
 the Poor Law Boards, let the Cunard Company, 
 demand and exact any qualification they choose for 
 the medical men they employ and pay, just as Lord 
 Breadalbane may, if he like, require red hair and 
 Swedenborgism, in his Lordship's surgeon to his slate 
 quarries at Easdale. Give the principle its full 
 swing, and, by so doing, be assured we would lose
 
 Free Competition in Medicine. 283 
 
 some of our worst Quacks ; but we would not lose 
 our Alisons, our Symes, our Christisons, Begbies, 
 and Kilgours, or our Brodies, Lathams, Brights, Wat- 
 sons, and Clarks ; and we would, we are persuaded, 
 have more of the rough-and-readies, as Dr. Burt 
 calls them. Gideon Gray would have an easier 
 mind, and more to feed himself and his horse on, 
 and his life would be more largely insured for his 
 wife and children. And if from the corporate bodies, 
 who are trying to live after they are dead, the ancient 
 cry of compensation rises up wild and shrill, give the 
 Belisarii their pence, and let them be contemptible 
 and content.' 
 
 But let there be no interference, under the name 
 of qualification or license, with free trade in medical 
 knowledge and skill. There is in the body politic, 
 as in the body natural, a self-regulating power to 
 which we ought to take heed, and trust its instincts, 
 and not our own contrivances. This holds in reli- 
 gion, in public morals, in education; and we will 
 never prosper as we might till we take the advice 
 Henry Taylor relates that an old lady of rank gave 
 to her anxious daughter-in-law, when asked by her 
 what she would advise as to the education of chil- 
 dren : ' I would advise, my dear, a little wholesome 
 neglect.'
 
 EDWARD FORBES. 
 
 ' Nature never did betray 
 
 The heart tkat loved her ; "'tis her privilege, 
 Through all the years of this our life, to lead 
 from joy to joy : for she can so inform 
 The mind that is within its, so impress 
 With quietness and beauty, and so feed 
 With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, 
 Rash judgments, nor the sneers ofselfisl men, 
 Nor greetings -where no kindness is, nor all 
 The dreary intercourse of daily life, 
 Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb 
 Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold 
 Is full of blessings. ' 
 
 WORDSWORTH.
 
 EDWARD FORBES. J 
 
 \\T E have too long delayed noticing the memoir 
 of this delightful man the gifted teacher, 
 the consummate naturalist. Indeed, it is so long 
 now since we read it, and so long since all the world 
 has done so, that we cannot and need not go into 
 the details of his life and history, or into any minute 
 criticism of the treatment of their theme by his two 
 biographers, Dr. George Wilson and Mr. Geikie. 
 
 It is an interesting and a likeable book, loose in its 
 texture in the first half, from the natural tendency, on 
 the part of its genial author, to expatiate and efflo- 
 resce ; and deficient necessarily in personality in 
 the second, which, however, is most ably and 
 thoroughly done from its writer's point of view, 
 just, painstaking, and full of" excellent science. 
 Mr. Geikie's genius is mainly geological, and it is 
 well that it is so ; but he writes with clearness 
 and force ; and judgment in its own place is always 
 1 From The Scotsman.
 
 288 Edward Forbes. 
 
 better than genius out of it. There are exquisite 
 bits, perfect flowers for fragrance and beauty in 
 Dr. Wilson's sketch. The account of Edinburgh 
 College life, and all about that great and primary 
 man, that master in natural history, Professor 
 Jameson, a man of rare purity, and force of life 
 and purpose, and most genuinely good, is quick 
 with our lost friend's fine play of fancy, and his 
 affectionate humour ; but it labours, as we all to 
 our sorrow know, under the loss of his revision. 
 The first chapter, on the Isle of Man and its tail- 
 less cats, is out of all proportion, and with its in- 
 formation and fun, is more suited to the Odds and 
 Ends of a Manx historian of the Knickerbocker 
 breed, than to the work of a steady biographer. 
 The next chapter, on Edward Forbes's infant and 
 boyish years, is finely done, developing with a tender 
 and firm touch the natural bent of his mind, and 
 showing how truly ' the child is father of the man.' 
 
 Edward Forbes was one of four men who studied 
 together at Edinburgh, all bound together closely, 
 but each curiously different from the rest. Samuel 
 Brown, George Wilson, and John Goodsir were the 
 others. The last, in many respects the greatest, 
 certainly the completest and most satisfying, still 
 lives, one of the main glories of our medical school, a 
 man who will leave a name not unworthy to be placed 
 alongside of John Hunter's. He has no speciality,
 
 Edward Forbes. 289 
 
 but is a true discerner and discoverer of nature, a 
 teacher of what he himself knows. It is impossible 
 to overrate his influence in our medical school in 
 grounding the students in a genuine anatomy, and 
 in basing speculation of the widest, the most daring, 
 and transcendental kind upon downright matter of 
 fact. 
 
 Edward Forbes was a child of nature, and he lived 
 in her presence and observance. She was his Alma 
 Mater to the end. He enjoyed science ; this was 
 the chief end to him of life ; its bloom, and its fruit, 
 and its own exceeding great reward. 
 ' George Wilson made science enjoyable to others ; 
 he illustrated, adorned, and commended it ; standing, 
 as it were, with his face to the world, he told what 
 of the mystery and truth of science it could or cared 
 to know and its fa'cetice too, for he was an inveterate 
 wag, having more wit than humour, and less imagi- 
 nation than fancy. 
 
 Samuel Brown was his typical reverse. He stood 
 with his back to the public, intent at the high altar 
 of his service, bent on questioning, on divination, 
 and on making nature reveal her secret. He worked 
 up the stream ; his was that science of sciences, which 
 is philosophy proper. He desired to bring knowledge 
 to a point, to draw all multiformity into the focus of 
 unity. 
 
 Goodsir advances it as a whole, and makes it our 
 T
 
 290 Edward Forbes. 
 
 inheritance, while he enriches it with something from 
 the stores of his other brethren. 
 
 In an eloquent and tender eloge upon Dr. Samuel 
 Brown, in the North British Review for February 
 1857, there is quoted from his private journal, with 
 which he whiled away his long hours of languor, soli- 
 tude, and pain, the following portrait of his former 
 colleague and companion, written on hearing of his 
 sudden death. Surely if there is much matter like 
 this in that journal, the world would like to have 
 more of it some day. 
 
 ' Edward Forbes is dead and buried before me ; 
 died this day week, was buried on Thursday. " He 
 behaved at the close with his old composure, con- 
 siderateness, and sweetness of nature," writes Dr. 
 John. This is a great public loss, a pungent public 
 grief too ; but to us, his friends, it is " past the blas- 
 phemy of grief." Surely it is " wondrous in our eyes." 
 Not forty yet ; his work sketched out largely, rather 
 than done : his proper career, as the Edinburgh 
 Professor of Natural History, just opened, and that 
 with unusual brilliancy of circumstance, Edinburgh, 
 young and old, proud to receive him as her new 
 great man, the Naturalists of Scotland rising up to 
 call the Manxman blessed " The pity of it, oh the 
 pity of it !" 
 
 ' We began our public career almost together. He 
 in his twenty-fifth, I in my twenty-third year, de-
 
 Edward Forbes. 29 1 
 
 livered at Edinburgh a joint course of lectures on the 
 Philosophy of the Sciences, he the graphic or static, 
 I the principial or dynamic hemisphere of the round. 
 Tall for his strength, slightly round-shouldered, 
 slightly in-bent legs, but elegant, with a fine round 
 head and long face, a broad, beautifully arched fore- 
 head, long dim-brown hair like a woman's, a slight 
 moustache, no beard, long-limbed, long-fingered, 
 lean, such was one of the most interesting figures 
 ever before an Edinburgh audience. His voice was 
 not good, his manner not flowing, not even easy. 
 He was not eloquent, but he said the right sort of 
 thing in a right sort of way ; and there was such an 
 air of mastery about him, of genius, of geniality, of 
 unspeakable good-nature, that he won all hearts, and 
 subdued all minds, and kept all imaginations prisoners 
 for life. Nobody that has not heard him can con- 
 ceive the charm. 
 
 ' In natural history his labours are acknowledged 
 by his peers ; and it is not for a chemist to say a 
 word. Yet I fancy he has made no memorable dis- 
 covery, initiated no critical movement. It is by the 
 width of his views he has told, and by his personal 
 influence. In short, he is a first-rate naturalist, near- 
 sighted and far-sighted, and eminently disposed and 
 able to reduce the chaos of observation to order, and 
 to discern the one soul of nature in all her manifold 
 body of members; but he has not shown himself inven-
 
 292 Edward Forbes. 
 
 tive like Linnseus or Cuvier, or even Buffon. His true 
 greatness was cumulative ; and if he had lived as 
 long, he might have rivalled Humboldt. As it is, he 
 was not a philosopher, nor a great discoverer but 
 he was a consummate and philosophical naturalist, 
 wider than any man alive in his kind. Add to that 
 noble distinction, that he was much of an artist, not 
 a little of a man of letters, something of a scholar, a 
 humorist, the very most amiable of men, a perfect 
 gentleman, and a beautiful pard-like creature, and 
 you have our Hyperion, gone down, alas, ere it was 
 yet noon ! After all, what a combination of charms, 
 what a constellation of gifts, what a man ! Edward 
 Forbes was a sweet, wise, broad and sunny, great 
 kind of man, else I do not know a nobleman when I 
 see him. 
 
 ' As for religion, I can only say he never talked 
 infidelities even in our rash youth. He always abided 
 by the church, though he rarely frequented its taber- 
 nacles. He was a kind of half-intellectual, half- 
 agsthetical believer. Theology somehow did not lie 
 in his way ; and he was (as I conceive) sincere 
 rather than earnest, in religion. There lay his great 
 defect ; since all are but fragments after all that can 
 be said even of a Shakspeare. He wanted intensity of 
 character, depth of soul, spirituality ; and it is curi- 
 ous in a man so large. 
 
 ' And in connexion with this lay one of the secrets
 
 Edward Forbes. 293 
 
 of Forbes's boundless popularity. He was a con- 
 formist, ran against no man or thing. He joined 
 no new cause ; he assailed no old one ; nay, he even 
 assailed no new one. All were welcome to him, 
 therefore, and he to all. Even in Natural Histon 
 he brought no agitating or perplexing news, per- 
 plexing men with the fear of change. He sailed 
 nobly with the wind and tide of ordinary progress, 
 not needing to carry a single gun, but the foremost 
 of this peaceful fleet. This was all very delightful 
 and wise ; yet let a word be said for the men of war, 
 John Kepler and the rest ; and also let a distinction 
 betwixt the two orders of men be remembered. To 
 forget such distinctions is to confound the morality 
 of criticism. He of Nazareth, not to be profane, 
 brought " not peace, but a sword," the Divine 
 image of " the greater sort of greatness." ' 
 
 This is to the life, delicate and keen, like a 
 Holbein or Van Eyck. The description of his per- 
 son is curiously accurate, the fine round head, 
 the long face, the long dim-brown hair like a 
 woman's, etc. 
 
 To conclude, there is material in this volume for 
 a short and compact life of Forbes. You feel you 
 know him and hear him ; see him singing, or rather 
 crooning his odd genial songs ; playing with his 
 subject, with everything, making his pen laugh out 
 of those droll tail-pieces and overflowings of fun,
 
 294 Edward Forbes. 
 
 clever, but vague, feeble in outline, but full of the 
 man. We have had a melancholy pleasure in giving 
 ourselves up to this book; and thinking how much 
 the world has gained in him and lost. 
 
 The differences between natural history and analy- 
 tical science are sufficiently distinct where they are 
 farthest from each other ; but as is the case in all 
 partitions of knowledge, they get less marked where 
 they approach at the 'marches.' Therefore it is 
 hardly fair to say that Edward Forbes was merely a 
 master in natural history, not also in science proper, 
 the truth rather being that he was more of the first 
 than of the second. The difference of the two know- 
 ledges is very much the difference between listen- 
 ing to what nature spontaneously says to you, that 
 philosophy, which, as Bacon has it, ' repeats the words 
 of the universe itself with the utmost fidelity, and is 
 written as it were by dictation of the universe,' and 
 between putting questions to her, often very cross- 
 questions"; putting her, in fact, to the torture, and 
 getting at her hidden things. The one is more of the 
 nature of experience, of that which is a methodized 
 record of appearances ; the other more of experi- 
 ment of that which you, upon some hypothesis, 
 expect to find, and has more to do with intimate 
 composition and action. Still this parallelism must 
 not be run out of breath ; both of them have chiefly 
 to do with the truth of fact, more than with the
 
 Edward Forbes. 295 
 
 truth of thought about fact, or about itself, which is 
 philosophy, or with the truth of imagination, which is 
 ideal art, fabricated by the shaping spirit from fact, 
 and serving for delectation. The world is doing such 
 a large business in the first two of these departments, 
 natural history and pure science, that we are 
 somewhat in danger of forgetting altogether the 
 third, which is of them all the greatest, and of 
 misplacing and misinterpreting the fourth. 
 
 Science is ultimately most useful when it goes 
 down into practice becomes technical, and is util- 
 ized ; or blossoms into beauty, or ascends into philo- 
 sophy and religion, and rests in that which is in 
 the highest sense good, spiritual, and divine, leaving 
 the world wiser and happier, as well as more power- 
 ful and knowing, than it found it. 
 
 We end by quoting from this memoir the fol- 
 lowing noble passage, by that master of science and 
 of style, our own Playfair, in his account of Dr. 
 Hutton. It is singularly appropriate. 
 
 ' The loss sustained by the death of this great 
 naturalist was aggravated to those who knew him by 
 the consideration of how much of his knowledge had 
 perished with himself, and notwithstanding all that he 
 had written, how much of the light collected by a life 
 of experience and observation was now completely 
 extinguished. It is indeed melancholy to reflect, that 
 with all who make proficiency in the sciences, founded
 
 296 Edward Forbes. 
 
 on nice and delicate observations, something of this 
 sort must invariably happen. The experienced eye, 
 the power of perceiving the minute differences and 
 fine analogies which discriminate or unite the objects 
 of science, and the readiness of comparing new 
 phenomena with others already treasured up in the 
 mind, these are accomplishments which no rules 
 can teach, and no precepts can put us in possession 
 of. This is a portion of knowledge which every man 
 must acquire for himself; nobody can leave as an 
 inheritance to his successor. It seems, indeed, as 
 if nature had in this instance admitted an exception, 
 to the will by which she has ordained the perpetual 
 accumulation of knowledge among civilized men, and 
 had destined a considerable portion of science con- 
 tinually to grow up, and perish with individuals.'
 
 DR. ADAMS OF BANCHORY. 
 
 SCENE. A hut in the wilds of Braemar ; a big gamekeeper fast 
 sinking from a gunshot wound in the lower part of the 
 thigh. 
 
 DR. ADAMS, loquitur. ' Get a handkerchief, and the spurtle 1 
 (the porridge- stick}, 'and new for a pad for our tourniquet. 
 This will do J putting his little Elzevir Horace down tipon the 
 femoral Gamekeeper's life saved, and by good guidance, the leg 
 too.
 
 DR. ADAMS OF BANCHORY. 
 
 "\ \ 7"E little thought when, a few weeks ago, we in- 
 troduced some suggestions from Dr. Adams 
 as to the propriety of instituting in our universities 
 a chair of medical history, by calling him the most 
 learned of Scottish physicians, that we should soon 
 have to change ' is ' into was. 
 
 When we last saw him, though he looked older than 
 his years, and weather-worn, he was full of vigour and 
 of heart, and seemed to have in him many days of 
 victorious study. 
 
 To see so much energy and understanding cut 
 sheer through in its full current, not dwindling away 
 by natural waste, is little less startling than it would 
 be to see his own silver and impetuous Dee, one 
 moment rolling in ample volume, and the next 
 vanished. For, common though it be, there is no- 
 thing more strange, nothing, in a certain true sense, 
 more against nature, than the sudden extinguishment 
 of so much intellect, knowledge, and force. 
 
 Dr. Adams was not a mere scholar, not merely
 
 300 Dr. Adams of Banchory. 
 
 patient, ingenious, and perspicacious in the study of 
 language. His was likewise a robust, hardy, eager 
 nature, hungering after knowledge of every sort, and 
 in the structure of his mind and its bent more 
 like the Scaligers and Bentleys of old than the 
 mighty but mere word-mongers among the Germans. 
 He was made of the same-tough and fervid material 
 as were George Buchanan and Florence Wilson, 
 Andrew Melville, and the huge, turbulent, 1 and 
 intrepid Dempster, men who were great scholars, 
 and a great deal more ; shrewd, and full of public 
 spirit, men of affairs as well as of letters. 
 
 It is this intermixture of shrewdness and fervour 
 with hard-headedness and patient endurance of men- 
 tal toil, so peculiarly Scotch in its quality and in its 
 flavour, which makes a man like the country surgeon 
 of Banchory-Ternan worthy of more than a passing 
 notice. 
 
 Francis Adams was born in the parish of Lum- 
 phanan on Deeside. His father was a gardener, 
 and his elder brother is still a farmer in that parish. 
 
 In a memorandum of his literary life now before 
 
 1 Here is this formidable worthy's portrait by Matthaeus 
 Peregrinus, as quoted by Dr. Irving in his Literary Scotchmen 
 of the Last Four Centuries: ' Moribus ferox fuit, apertus 
 omnino, et simulandi nescius, sive enim amore, sive odio 
 aliquem prosequeretur utrumque palam ; consuetudine jucun- 
 dissimus, amicis obsequentissimus, ita inimicis maxime infensus, 
 acceptasque injurias tenax, earn aperte agnoscens et repetens.'
 
 Dr. Adams of Banchory. 301 
 
 us, he says : ' As far as I can think, my classical 
 bent was owing to a friendship which I formed, when 
 about fifteen years old, with a young man a few years 
 older than myself, who had enjoyed the benefits of 
 an excellent education at Montrose, which gave 
 him a superiority over myself that roused me to 
 emulation. 
 
 ' In my early years I had been shamefully mistaught. 
 I began by devoting seventeen hours a day to the 
 study of Virgil and Horace, and it will be readily be- 
 lieved that such intense application soon made up for 
 any early deficiencies. 
 
 ' I read each of these six or seven times in succes- 
 sion. Having mastered the difficulties of Latin litera- 
 ture, I naturally turned my attention to Greek as 
 being the prototype of the other. 
 
 ' It was the late Dr. Kerr of Aberdeen who drew 
 my attention to the Greek literature of medicine, and 
 at his death I purchased a pretty fair collection of the 
 Greek medical authors which he had made. How- 
 ever, I have also read almost every Greek work 
 which has come down to us from antiquity, with the 
 exception of the ecclesiastical writers ; all the poets, 
 historians, philosophers, orators, writers of science, 
 novelists, and so forth. My ambition always was to 
 combine extensive knowledge of my profession with 
 extensive erudition.' 
 
 This was no ordinary boy of fifteen who could, ex
 
 302 Dr. Adams of Banchory. 
 
 proprio motu, work seventeen hours a day to make up 
 to his friend. 
 
 He settled early in life in the beautiful and secluded 
 village of Banchory-Ternan, to use his own words, 
 ' with its glassy river and magnificent hills rising in 
 front and behind like another Tempe, with its Peneus 
 flowing between Ossa and Olympus.' Here he spent 
 his days in the arduous and useful profession of 
 a country surgeon, out in all weathers and at all 
 hours, having the lives, the births, and the deaths of 
 a wild outlying region on his hands. This work he 
 did so thoroughly that no one could, with a shadow 
 of justice, say that his learning lessened his readiness 
 and his ability for the active duties of his calling, 
 in the full round of its requirements. He was an 
 attentive, resolute, wise practitioner, just such a man as 
 we would like to fall into the hands of, were we need- 
 ing his help. He was always up to the newest know- 
 ledge of the time, but never a slave to any system, or 
 addicted to swear by any master. The whole cast of 
 his mind was thoroughly free and self-sustained. If 
 he had any idols, they were among the mighty and 
 the dead ; but even they were his companions and 
 familiar daimons, rather than his gods. The follow- 
 ing is a list of Dr. Adams' principal publications, and 
 if we consider that, during all this time, he was 
 fighting for a livelihood, educating his family, and 
 involved in his multifarious and urgent duties, they
 
 Dr. Adams of Banchory. 303 
 
 furnish one of the most signal instances of the pur- 
 suit and mastery of knowledge under difficulties, to 
 be found even among our Scottish worthies : 
 
 1. Translation of Hero and Leander, from the 
 Greek of Musaeus, with other Poems, English and 
 Latin. Aberdeen, 1826. 
 
 2. Hermes Philologus, or the connexion of the 
 Greek and Latin. London, 1826. This made him 
 many literary friends, among others, Edmund H. 
 Barker, author of Dr. Parr's Life, and Dr. Anthon of 
 New York. 
 
 3. Various Papers of Greek Prosody, etc., in the 
 Classical Journal. 
 
 4. On the Administration of Hellebore among the 
 Ancients. 
 
 5. On the Nervous System of Galen and other 
 Ancient Authors, 1829, in which the originality of 
 Sir Charles Bell's doctrines was attacked. 
 
 6. On the Toxicological Doctrines of the Ancients. 
 
 7. On the Treatment of Malignant Ulcers of the 
 Face. 
 
 8. Notices of Greek, Latin, and Arabic Medical 
 Authors. For Barker's Edition of Lempriere. 
 
 9. Paulus ^gineta. Translation of the first 
 volume, 1834. This was a losing concern as to 
 money ; but it placed him, per satium, in the first 
 rank of learned and judicious physicians ; it was an 
 amazing tour de force for an Aberdeen surgeon, and
 
 304 -Dr. Adams of BaiicJiory. 
 
 will ever remain a memorial of his indomitable mental 
 pluck and strong sense. The Sydenham Society gave 
 its character as follows : ' Replete with learning, and 
 comprising the most complete view which has ever 
 been given of the knowledge professed by the Greeks, 
 Romans, and Arabians, it will form a lasting monu- 
 ment of the industry and erudition of its author, and 
 an honour to his country.' 
 
 10. Several Reviews in Forbes' British and Foreign 
 Review, 1842-66. 
 
 n. Case of Dislocation of the Knee-joint, with 
 Dissection. 
 
 12. English and Greek Dictionary (Dunbar's), 
 almost entirely done by him. The appendix, con- 
 taining scientific explanation of the Greek names of 
 minerals, plants, and animals, is out of sight the 
 most valuable existing in any language. 
 
 13. Paulus ^Egineta, translated from the Greek. 
 3 vols., 1845-6-7. Sydenham Society. 
 
 14. A Series of Papers on Uterine Haemorrhage. 
 
 15. Case of a Woman bitten by an Adder. 
 
 1 6. A series of Papers on the Construction of the 
 Placenta. 
 
 17. On the Treatment of Burns. 
 
 1 8. Hippocrates, translated from the Original. 
 2 vols., 1849. Sydenham Society. 
 
 19. Theophilus de Fabric! Assisted by Dr. 
 Greenhill. Oxon. 1842.
 
 Dr. Adams of Banckory. 305 
 
 20. Arundines Devae : a Collection of Original 
 Poems. 
 
 Since that time there have been frequent commu- 
 nications by him to the journals on medical subjects, 
 and a pleasant paper on the study of ornithology, 
 read before the British Association at Aberdeen. 
 
 Nothing can better illustrate his keen appetite for 
 knowledge of all sorts than this curious and touching 
 record of his own observation son the birds of Banchory, 
 and his son's on those of Cashmere. You see what 
 a quick and loving eye the father had kept, during 
 his busy and learned life, upon the natural objects he 
 met with in his rides, and the training he had given 
 his son in such studies at home, which enabled him 
 to turn his Indian observations to good account. 
 This modest but remarkable paper contains not only 
 the ornithological notes, but an admirable pleading 
 for this department of natural history as a branch of 
 liberal education, and a valuable gymnastic for the 
 senses and the mind, and ends with an eloquent, and 
 we think well-founded protest, against the scientific 
 ultraism of the day, the useful information, and 
 cramming mania. We wish we had space to give 
 some of his words of admonition and warning. The 
 following are Dr. Adams' remarks, in the memo- 
 randum already referred to, on his two great works : 
 
 ' I began the translation of SEgineta in the end of 
 Nov. 1827, and finished it on 28th April 1829. 1 
 u
 
 306 Dr. Adams of Banehory. 
 
 never, at any period of my life, undenvent so much 
 drudgery, and during three months I sat up late and 
 rose early, and snatched every minute I could from 
 the duties of my profession. At that time my practice, 
 though not lucrative, was extensive, especially in the 
 obstetric line ; I managed, however, to work at my 
 translation ten hours a day. I finished the translation 
 of Hippocrates in about four months. The certainty 
 of attaining a fair remuneration for the trouble it cost 
 me, and that it would not be a light hid under a 
 bushel, made this by far the most delightful task I 
 ever engaged in. The reception of it was everything I 
 could desire. It cost me some professional sacrifices, 
 but this was amply made up by the delight and mental 
 improvement it conferred on me.' 
 
 Such is a hasty and imperfect sketch of the character 
 and works of this remarkable man, who well deserved 
 the title of doctissimus medicorum Britannorum. 
 
 Some years ago, when travelling through that noble 
 and beautiful region, we went across from the inn at 
 Banehory to introduce ourselves to the translator of 
 the divine old man of Cos. We found him at break- 
 fast, ready for his ride up the Feugh, and amusing 
 himself with pencilling down a translation of an ode 
 of Horace into Greek verse ! 
 
 He was a thorough Aberdonian, hard-headed and 
 warm-hearted, canny and yet independent, a man of 
 thought and action, not less than a man of vocables
 
 Dr. Adams of Banchory. 307 
 
 and learning ; in politics an old and thorough Liberal ; 
 generous in his praise of others, and not unamusingly 
 fond of their praise of himself. By the sheer force of his 
 intellect, by the extent and exactness of his erudition, 
 he became the cherished friend of such men as Sir 
 John Forbes, Dean Milman, Sir W. Hamilton, and 
 many of the famous Continental scholars ; and he 
 leaves in his own profession no equal in the com- 
 bination of honest, deep, and broad learning, with 
 practical sagacity and enlightened experience.
 
 HENRY VAUGHAN. 
 
 "Ocra TTI -po<r</nAv} TO.VTO. XoyifctrQe. ST. PAUL.
 
 HENRY VAUGHAN. 
 
 <VX .THAT do you think of Dr. Channing, Mr. 
 Coleridge?' said a brisk young gentleman 
 to the mighty discourser, as he sat next him at a 
 small tea-party. ' Before entering upon that ques- 
 tion, Sir,' said Coleridge, opening upon his inquirer 
 those ' noticeable grey eyes,' with a vague and placid 
 stare, and settling himself in his seat for the night, 
 'I must put you in possession of my views, in extenso, 
 on the origin, progress, present condition, future 
 likelihoods, and absolute essence of the Unitarian 
 controversy, and especially the conclusions I have, 
 upon the whole, come to on the great question of 
 what may be termed the philosophy of religious dif- 
 ference.' In like manner, before telling our readers 
 what we think of Henry Vaughan, the Silurist, or of 
 'V.,' or of Henry Ellison, the Bornnatural, or of 
 E. V. K., it would have been very pleasant (to our- 
 selves) to have given, in extenso, our views de Re 
 Poet led, its nature, its laws and office, its means and 
 
 311
 
 312 Henry Vaughan. 
 
 ends ; and to have made known how much and how 
 little we agreed on these points with such worthies 
 as Aristotle and Plato, Horace and Richard Baxter, 
 Petronius Arbiter and Blaise Pascal, Ulric von 
 Hiitten and Boileau, Hurdis and Kurd, Dr. Arnold 
 and Montaigne, Harris of Salisbury and his famous 
 uncle, Burke and 'John Buncle,' Montesquieu and 
 Sir Philip Sidney, Dr. Johnson and the two Wartons, 
 George Gascoyne and Spenser's friend Gabriel Har- 
 vey, Puttenham and Webbe, George Herbert and 
 George Sand, Petrarch and Pinciano, Vida and Julius 
 Caesar Scaliger, Pontanus and Savage Landor, Leigh 
 Hunt and Quinctilian, or Tacitus (whichever of the 
 two wrote the Dialogue De Oratoribus, in which 
 there is so much of the best philosophy, criticism, 
 and expression), Lords Bacon and Buchan and Dr. 
 Blair, Dugald Stewart and John Dryden, Charles 
 Lamb and Professor Wilson, Vinet of Lausanne and 
 John Foster, Lord Jeffrey and the two brothers Hare, 
 Drs. Fuller and South, John Milton and Dr. Drake, 
 Dante and ' Edie Ochiltree,' Wordsworth and John 
 Bunyan, Plutarch and Winkelman, the Coleridges, 
 Samuel, Sara, Hartley, Derwent, and Henry Nelson, 
 Sk Egerton Bridges, Victor Cousin and ' the Doctor,' 
 George Moir and Madame de Stael, Dr. Fracastorius 
 and Professor Keble, Martinus Scriblerus and Sir 
 Thomas Browne, Macaulay and the Bishop of Cloyne, 
 Collins and Gray and Sir James Mackintosh, Hazlitt
 
 Henry Vaughan. 313 
 
 and John Ruskin, Shakspere and Jackson of Exeter, 
 Dallas and De Quincey, and the six Taylors, Jeremy, 
 William, Isaac, Jane, John, Edward, and Henry. 
 We would have had great pleasure in quoting what 
 these famous women and men have written on the 
 essence and the art of poetry, and to have shown 
 how strangely they differ, and how as strangely at 
 times they agree. But as it is not related at what 
 time of the evening our brisk young gentleman 
 got his answer regarding Dr. Channing, so it like- 
 wise remains untold what our readers have lost and 
 gained in our not fulfilling our somewhat extensive 
 desire. 
 
 It is with poetry as with flowers or fruits, and the 
 delicious juices of meats and fishes ; we would all 
 rather have them, and smell them, and taste them, 
 than hear about them. It is a good thing to know 
 all about .1 lily, its scientific ins and outs, its botany, 
 its archaeology, its aesthetics, even its anatomy and 
 ' Organic radicals,' but it is a better thing to look at 
 itself, and 'consider' it how it grows 
 
 ' White, radiant, spotless, exquisitely pure. ' 
 
 It is one thing to know what your peach is, that it is 
 the fruit of a rosal exogen, and is of the nature of a 
 true drupe, with its carpel solitary, and its style pro- 
 ceeding from the apex, that its ovules are anatropal, 
 and that its putamcn separates sponte sud from the
 
 314 Henry Vaughan, 
 
 sacrocarp ; to know, moreover, how many kinds of 
 peaches and nectarines there are in the world, and 
 how happy the Canadian pigs must be of an evening 
 munching the downy odoriferous drupes under the 
 trees, and what an aroma this must give to the result- 
 ing pork, 1 it is another and a better thing to pluck 
 the peach, and sink your teeth into its fragrant flesh. 
 We remember only one exception to this rule. Who 
 has ever yet tasted the roast pig of reality which 
 came up to the roast pig of Charles Lamb 1 Who 
 can forget ' that young and tender suckling, under a 
 moon old, guiltless as yet of the stye, with no ori- 
 ginal speck of the amor immunditice the hereditary 
 failing of the first parent, yet manifest, and which, when 
 prepared aright, is, of all the delicacies in the mundus 
 edibilis, the most delicate obsoniorum facile princeps 
 whose fat is not fat, but an indefinable sweetness 
 growing up toward it the tender blossoming of fat 
 fat cropped in the bud taken in the shoot in the 
 first innocence, the cream and quintessence of the 
 child-pig's yet pure food the lean not lean, but a 
 kind of animal manna ccelestis cibus ille angeloriim 
 or rather, shall we say, fat and lean (if it must be 
 so) so blended and running into each other, that 
 both together make but one ambrosial result.' But 
 
 1 We are given to understand that peach-fed pork is a poor 
 pork after all, and goes soon into decomposition. We are not 
 sorry to know this.
 
 Henry Vaughan. 315 
 
 here, as elsewhere, the exception proves the rule, 
 and even the perusal of 'Original' Walker's delicious 
 schemes of dinners at Lovegrove's, with flounders 
 water-zoutched, and iced claret, would stand little 
 chance against an invitation to a party of six at ' 
 BJackwall, with 'Tom Young of the Treasury' as 
 Prime Minister. 
 
 Poetry is the expression of the beautiful by words 
 the beautiful of the outer and of the inner world ; 
 whatever is delectable to the eye or the ear, the 
 every sense of the body and of the soul it presides 
 over veras dulcedines rcrum. It implies at once a 
 vision and a faculty, a gift and an art. There must 
 be the vivid conception of the beautiful, and its fit 
 manifestation in numerous language. A thought 
 may be poetical, and yet not poetry ; it may be a 
 sort of mother liquor, holding in solution the poeti- 
 cal element, but waiting and wanting its precipitation, 
 its concentration into the bright and compacted 
 crystal. It is the very blossom and fragrancy and 
 bloom of all human thoughts, passions, emotions, 
 language ; having for its immediate object its very 
 essence pleasure and delectation rather than truth ; 
 but springing from truth, as the flower from its fixed 
 and unseen root. To use the words of Puttenham 
 in reference to Sir Walter Raleigh, poetry is a lofty, 
 insolent (unusual) and passionate thing. 
 
 It is not philosophy, it is not science, it is not
 
 316 Henry Vaugkan. 
 
 morality, it is not religion, any more than red is or 
 ever can be blue or yellow, or than one thing can 
 ever be another ; but it feeds on, it glorifies and 
 exalts, it impassionates them all. A poet will be the 
 better of all the wisdom, and all the goodness, and 
 all the science, and all the talent he can gather into 
 himself, but qua poet he is a minister and an inter- 
 preter of TO KaAov, and of nothing else. Philosophy 
 and poetry are not opposites, but neither are they 
 convertibles. They are twin sisters ; in the words 
 of Augustine : ' PHILOCALIA et PHILOSOPHIA prope 
 similiter cognominattz sunt, et quasi gentiles inter se 
 videri volunt et sunt. Quid est enim Philosophia ? 
 amor sapientice. Quid Philocalia ? amor pulchritu- 
 dinis. Germance igitur istcz sunt prorsus, et eodem 
 parente procreate? Fracastorius beautifully illustrates 
 this in his Naugeritts, sive De Poetica Dialogus. He 
 has been dividing writers, or composers, as he calls 
 them, into historians, or those who record appear- 
 ances ; philosophers, who seek out causes; and poets, 
 who perceive and express veras pulchritudines rerum, 
 quicquid maximum et magnificum, quicquid pulcherri- 
 mum, quicquid dulcissimum ; and as an example, he 
 says, if the historian describe the ongoings of this 
 visible universe, I am taught ; if the philosopher 
 announce the doctrine of a spiritual essence per- 
 vading and regulating all things, I admire ; but if the 
 poet take up the same theme, and sing
 
 Henry Vaughan. 317 
 
 Principle calum ac terras, camposque Itquentes, 
 Lucentemque globum Luna, Titaniaqiie astra 
 Spiritus intus alii, totamque infusa per artus 
 Metis agitat molem, et magno se corpore miscet. 
 
 1 Si inquam, eandem rem, hoc facto referat mihi, non 
 admirabor solum, sed adamabo : et dimnum nestio quid, 
 in animum mihi immissum existimabo? 
 
 In the quotation which he gives, we at once detect 
 the proper tools and cunning of the poet : fancy 
 gives us liquentes campos, titania astra, lucentem globum 
 lunce, and phantasy or imagination, in virtue of its 
 royal and transmuting power, gives us intus alit 
 infusa per artus and that magnificent idea, magno se 
 corpore miscet this is the divinum nescio quid the 
 proper work of the imagination the master and 
 specific faculty of the poet that which makes him 
 what he is, as the wings make a bird, and which, to 
 borrow the noble words of the Book of Wisdom, ' is 
 more moving than motion, is one only, and yet 
 manifold, subtle, lively, clear, plain, quick, which 
 cannot be letted, passing and going through all 
 things by reason of her pureness; being one, she 
 can do all things ; and remaining in herself, she 
 maketh all things new.' 
 
 The following is Fracastorius' definition of a man 
 who not only writes verses, but is by nature a poet : 
 ' Est autem ille natura poeta, qui aptus est veris rerum 
 pulchritiidinibus capi monerique; ct qui per illas loqui 
 et scribere potest /' and he gives the lines of Virgil,
 
 318 Henry Vanghan. 
 
 ' Ant sicubi nignun 
 Ilicibus crebrls sacra nemus accubet umbra, ' 
 
 as an instance of the poetical transformation. All 
 that was merely actual or informative might have 
 been given in the words sicubi nemus, but phantasy 
 sets to work, and videte, per quas pulchritudines, nan us 
 depinxit; addens ACCUBET, ET NIGRUM crebris iliribus 
 et SACRA UMBRA ! quam ob rem, rede Pontanus dicebat, 
 finem esse poette, apposite dicere ad admirationem, sim- 
 pliciter, et per universalem bene dicendi ideam. This 
 is what we call the beau-ideal, or KO.T ^o\rjv, the 
 ideal what Bacon describes as ' a more ample great- 
 ness, a more exact goodness, and a more absolute 
 variety than can be found in the nature of things, 
 the world being in proportion inferior to the soul, 
 and the exhibition of which doth raise and erect the 
 mind by submitting the shews of things to the desires 
 of the mind.' It is ' the wondrous and goodly pa- 
 terne' of which Spenser sings in his 'Hymne in 
 honour of Beautie :' 
 
 ' What time this world's great Workmaister did cast 
 To make al things such as we no\\ behold, 
 // seems tliat he before his eyes had plast 
 A goodly Paterne, to whose perfect mould 
 He fashioned them, as comely as he could, 
 That now so faire and seemly they appeare, 
 As nought may be amended any wheare. 
 
 ' That wondrous Paterne wheresoere it bee, 
 Whether in earth layd up in secret store, 
 Or else in heaven, that no man may it see,
 
 Henry Vaughan. 319 
 
 With sinfull eyes, for feare it to deflore, 
 Is perfect Beautie, which all men adore 
 That is the thing that giveth pleasant grace 
 To all things fair. 
 
 ' For through infusion of celestial powre 
 The duller earth it quickneth with delight, 
 And life-ftill spirits pi ivily doth powre 
 Through all the parts, that to the looker's sight 
 They seeme to please. ' 
 
 It is that ' loveliness' which Mr. Ruskin calls ' the 
 signature of God on his works,' the dazzling print- 
 ings of His fingers, and to the unfolding of which he 
 has devoted, with so much of the highest philosophy 
 and eloquence, a great part of the second volume of 
 Modern Painters. 
 
 But we are as bad as Mr. Coleridge, and are 
 defrauding our readers of their 
 fruits and flowers, their peaches 
 and lilies. 
 
 Henry Vaughan, ' Silurist,' 
 as he was called, from his 
 being born in South Wales, 
 the country of the Silures, was 
 sprung from one of the most 
 ancient and noble families of the 
 Principality. Two of his ances- 
 tors, Sir Roger Vaughan and Sir 
 
 David Gam, fell at Agincourt. 
 
 sic sedebat. Jt is said that Shakspere visited 
 Scethrog, the family-castle in Brecknockshire; and
 
 320 Henry Vaughan. 
 
 Malone guesses that it was when there that he fell in 
 with the word ' Puck.' Near Scethrog, there is Cwn- 
 Pooky, or Pwcca, the Goblin's Valley, which be- 
 longed to the Vaughans; and Crofton Croker gives, 
 in his Fairy Legends, a facsimile of a portrait, drawn 
 by a Welsh peasant, of a Pwcca, which (whom ?) he 
 himself had seen sitting on a milestone, 1 by the road- 
 side, in the early morning, a very unlikely personage, 
 one would think, to say, 
 
 1 We confess to being considerably affected when we look 
 at this odd little fellow, as he sits there with his innocent 
 upturned toes, and a certain forlorn dignity and meek sadness, 
 as of ' one who once had wings. ' What is he ? and whence ? 
 Is he surface or substance ? is he smooth and warm ? is he 
 glossy, like a blackberry ? or has he on him ' the raven down 
 of darkness,' like an unfledged chick of night? and if we 
 smoothed him, would he smile ? Does that large eye wink ? 
 and is it a hole through to the other side ? (whatever that may 
 be ;) or is that a small crescent moon of darkness swimming 
 in its disc ? or does the eye disclose a bright light from within, 
 where his soul sits and enjoys bright day ? Is he a point of 
 admiration whose head is too heavy, or a quaver or crotchet 
 that has lost his neighbours, and fallen out of the scale ? Is he 
 an aspiring Tadpole in search of an idea ? What have been, 
 and what will be, the fortunes of this our small Nigel (Nigellus) ? 
 Think of 'Elia' having him sent up from the Goblin Valley, 
 packed in wool, and finding him lively ! how he and ' Mary' 
 would doat upon him, feeding him upon some celestial, unspeak- 
 able pap, 'sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes, or Cytherea's 
 breath.' How the brother and sister would croon over him 
 'with murmurs made to bless,' calling him their 'tender novice' 
 ' in the first bloom of his nigritude,' their belated straggler from 
 the 'rear of darkness thin," their little night-shade, not deadly, 
 their infantile Will-o'-the-wisp caught before his sins, their 'poor 
 Blot,' 'their innocent Blackness,' their 'dim Speck.'
 
 Henry Vaughan. 321 
 
 ' I go, I go ; look how I go ! 
 Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow. ' 
 
 We can more easily imagine him as one of those 
 Sprites 
 
 ' That do ran 
 
 By the triple Hecat's team, 
 From the presence of the Sun, 
 Following darkness like a dream.' 
 
 Henry, our poet, was born in 1621, and had a 
 twin-brother, Thomas. Newton, his birth-place, is 
 now a farm-house on the banks of the Usk, the 
 scenery of which is of great beauty. The twins 
 entered Jesus College, Oxford, in 1638. This was 
 early in the Great Rebellion, and Charles then kept 
 his Court at Oxford. The young Vaughans were hot 
 Royalists ; Thomas bore arms, and Henry was im- 
 prisoned. Thomas, after many perils, retired to 
 Oxford, and devoted his life to alchemy, under the 
 patronage of Sir Robert Murray, Secretary of State 
 for Scotland, himself addicted to these studies. He 
 published a number of works, with such titles as 
 ' Anthroposophia Theomagica, or a Discourse of the 
 Nature of Man, and his State after Death, grounded 
 on his Creator's Proto-chemistry ;' ' Magia Adamica, 
 with a full discovery of the true Ccelum terroe, or the 
 Magician's Heavenly Chaos and the first matter of 
 all things. 
 
 Henry seems to have been intimate with the 
 famous wits of his time : ' Great Ben,' Cartwright, 
 x
 
 322 Huiry Vaughan. 
 
 Randolph, Fletcher, etc. His first publication was 
 in 1 646 : ' Poerns, with the Tenth Satyre of Juvenal 
 Englished, by Henry Vaughan, Gent.' After taking 
 his degree in London as M.D., he settled at his 
 birthplace, Newton, where he lived and died the 
 doctor of the district. About this time he prepared 
 for the press his little volume, ' Olor Iscanus, the 
 Swan of Usk,' which was afterwards published by his 
 brother Thomas, without the poet's consent. We 
 are fortunate in possessing a copy of this curious 
 volume, which is now marked in the Catalogues as 
 'fiariss.' It contains a few original poems ; some of 
 them epistles to his friends, hit off with much vigour, 
 wit, and humour. Speaking of the change of times, 
 and the reign of the Roundheads, he says, 
 
 ' Here's brotherly Ruffs and Beards, and a strange sight 
 Of high monumental Hats, tane at the fight 
 Of eighty-eight ; while every Burgesse foots 
 The mortal Pavement in eternall boots.' 
 
 There is a line in one of the letters which strikes 
 us as of great beauty : 
 
 ' Feed on the vocal silence of his eye.' 
 And there is a very clever poem Ad Amicuin 
 Foeneratorem, in defiance of his friend's demand of 
 repayment of a loan. 
 
 There is great richness and delicacy of expression 
 in these two stanzas of an epithalamium : 
 
 ' Blessings as rich and fragrant crown your heads, 
 As the mild heaven on roses sheds,
 
 Henry Vaughan. 323 
 
 When at their cheeks (like pearls) they weare 
 The clouds that court them in a tear. 
 
 ' Fresh as the houres may all your pleasures be, 
 And healthfull as Eternitie ! . 
 Sweet as the flowre's first breath, and close 
 As th' unseen spreadings of the Rose 
 When she unfolds her curtained head, 
 And makes her bosome the Sun's bed ! ' 
 
 The translations from Ovid, Boece, and Cassimir, 
 are excellent. 
 
 The following lines conclude an invitation to a 
 friend : 
 
 ' Come then ! and while the slow isicle hangs 
 At the stiffe thatch, and Winter's frosty pangs 
 Benumme the year, blithe as of old let us 
 Mid' noise and war, of peace and mirth discusse. 
 This portion thou wert born for. Why should we 
 Vex at the time's ridiculous miserie ? 
 An age that thus hath fooled itself, and will, 
 Spite of thy teeth and mine, persist so still. 
 Let's sit then at this fire ; and, while wee steal 
 A revell in the Town, let others seal, 
 Purchase, and cheat, and who can let them pay, 
 Till those black deeds bring on the darksome day. 
 Innocent spenders wee ! a better use 
 Shall wear out our short lease, and leave the obtuse 
 Rout to their husks. They and their bags at best 
 Have cares in earnest. Wee care for a jest ! ' 
 
 When about thirty years of age, he had a long and 
 serious illness, during which his mind underwent an 
 entire and final change on the most important of all 
 subjects; and thenceforward he seems to have lived 
 ' soberly, righteously, and godly.'
 
 324 Henry VaugJian. 
 
 In his Preface to the ' Silex Scintillans] he says, 
 ' The God of the spirits of all flesh hath granted me 
 a further use of mine than I did look for in the body ; 
 and when I expected and had prepared for a message 
 of death, then did he answer me with life, I hope 
 to his glory, and my great advantage ; that I may 
 flourish not with leafe only, but with some fruit also.' 
 A.nd he speaks of himself as one of the converts of 
 ' that blessed man, Mr. George Herbert.' 
 
 Soon after, he published a little volume, called 
 'Flares Solitudinis} partly prose and partly verse. 
 The prose, as Mr. Lyte justly remarks, is simple and 
 nervous, unlike his poetry, which is occasionally de- 
 formed with the conceit of his time. 
 
 The verses entitled ' St. Paulinus to his wife 
 Theresia,' have much of the vigour and thoughtful- 
 ness and point of Cowper. In 1655, he published a 
 second edition, or more correctly a re-issue, for it was 
 not reprinted, of his Silex Srintillans, with a second 
 part added. He seems not to have given anything 
 after this to the public, during the next forty years of 
 his life. 
 
 He was twice married, and died in 1695, aged 73, 
 at Newton, on the banks of his beloved Usk, where he 
 had spent his useful, blameless, and, we doubt not, 
 happy life; living from day to day in the eye of 
 Nature, and in his solitary rides and walks in that 
 wild and beautiful country, finding full exercise for
 
 Henry Vaugluin. 325 
 
 that fine sense of the beauty and wondrousness of all 
 visible things, ' the earth and every common sight,' 
 the expression of which he has so worthily embodied 
 in his poems. 
 
 In < The Retreate,' he thus expresses this passion- 
 ate love of Nature 
 
 ' Happy those early dayes, when I 
 Shin'd in my Angell-infancy ! 
 Before I understood this place 
 Appointed for my second race, 
 Or taught my soul to fancy ought 
 But a white, Celestiall thought ; 
 When yet I had not walkt above 
 A mile or two from my first love, 
 And looking back, at that short space, 
 Could see a glimpse of his bright face; 
 When on some gilded Cloud or flowre 
 My gazing soul would dwell an houre, 
 And in those weaker glories spy 
 Some shadows of eternity ; 
 Before I taught my tongue to wound 
 My Conscience with a sinfule sound, 
 Or had the black art to dispence 
 A sev'rall sinne to ev'iy sence, 
 But felt through all this fleshly dresse 
 Bright shootes of everlastingnesse. 
 
 O how I long to travell back, 
 And tread again that ancient track ! 
 That I might once more reach that plaine, 
 Where first I left my glorious traine ; 
 From whence th' Inlightned spirit sees 
 That shady City of Palme trees.' 
 
 To use the words of Lord Jeffrey as applied to 
 Shakspere, Vaughan seems to have had in large
 
 326 Henry Vaughan. 
 
 measure and of finest quality, ' that indestructible 
 love of flowers, and odours, and dews, and clear 
 waters, and soft airs and sounds, and bright skies, 
 and woodland solitudes, and moonlight, which are 
 the material elements of poetry ; and that fine sense 
 of their '.indefinable relation to mental emotion which 
 is its essence and its vivifying power.' 
 
 And though what Sir Walter says of the country 
 surgeon is too true, that he is worse fed and harder 
 wrought than any one else in the parish, except it be 
 his horse ; still, to a man like Vaughan, to whom the 
 love of nature and its scrutiny was a constant pas- 
 sion, few occupations could have furnished ampler 
 and more exquisite manifestations of her magnifi- 
 cence and beauty. Many of his finest descriptions 
 give us quite the notion of their having been com- 
 posed when going his rounds on his Welsh pony 
 among the glens and hills, and their unspeakable 
 solitudes. Such lines as the following to a Star 
 were probably direct from nature on some cloudless 
 night : 
 
 ' Whatever 'tis, whose beauty here below 
 Attracts thee thus, and makes thee stream and flow, 
 And winde and curie, and wink and smile, 
 Shifting thy gate and guile.' 
 
 He is one of the earliest of our poets who treats 
 external nature subjectively rather than objectively, 
 in which he was followed by Gray (especially in his
 
 Henry Vaughan. 327 
 
 letters) and Collins and Cowper, and in some mea- 
 sure by Warton, until it reached its consummation, 
 and perhaps its excess, in Wordsworth. 
 
 We shall now give our readers some specimens 
 from the reprint of the Silex by Mr. Pickering, so 
 admirably edited by the Rev. H. F. Lyte, himself a 
 true poet, of whose careful life of our author we have 
 made very free use. 
 
 THE TIMBER. 
 ' Sure thou didst flourish once ! and many Springs, 
 
 Many bright mornings, much dew, many showers 
 Past o'er thy head : many light Hearts and Wings, 
 Which now are dead, lodg'd in thy living bowers. 
 
 And still a new succession sings and flies ; 
 
 Fresh groves grow up, and their green branches shoot 
 Towards the old and still enduring skies ; 
 
 While the low Violet thriveth at their root. 
 
 But thou beneath the sad and heavy Line 
 
 Of death dost waste all senseless, cold and dark ; 
 
 Where not so much as dreams of light may shine, 
 Nor any thought of greenness, leaf or bark. 
 
 And yet, as if some deep hate and dissent, 
 
 Bred in thy growth betwixt high winds and thec, 
 
 Were still alive, thou dost great storms resent, 
 Before they come, and know'st how near they be. 
 
 Else all at rest thou lyest, and the fierce breath 
 Of tempests can no more disturb thy ease ; 
 
 But this thy strange resentment after death 
 Means only those who broke in life thy peace.' 
 
 This poem is founded upon the superstition that a 
 tree which had been blown down by the wind gave
 
 328 Henry Vaughan. 
 
 signs of restlessness and anger before the coming of 
 a storm from the quarter whence came its own fall. 
 It seems to us full of the finest phantasy and expres- 
 
 THE WORLD. 
 
 ' I saw Eternity the other night 
 Like a great Ring of pure and endless light, 
 
 All calm as it was bright ; 
 And round beneath it, Time in hours, days, years, 
 
 Driv'n by the spheres 
 Like a vast shadow mov'd, in which the world 
 
 And all her train were hurl'd.' 
 
 There is a wonderful magnificence about this; and 
 what a Bunyan-like reality is given to the vision by 
 ' the other night /' 
 
 MAN. 
 
 ' Weighing the stedfastness and state 
 Of some mean things which here below reside, 
 Where birds like watchful Clocks the noiseless date 
 
 And Intercourse of times divide, 
 Where Bees at night get home and hive, and flowrs, 
 
 Early as well as late, 
 Rise with the Sun, and set in the same bowrs : 
 
 I would, said I, my God would give 
 The staidness of these things to man ! for these 
 To His divine appointments ever cleave, 
 
 And no new business breaks their peace ; 
 The birds nor sow nor reap, yet sup and dine, 
 
 The flowres without clothes live, 
 Yet Solomon was never drest so fine. 
 
 Man hath still either toyes or Care ; 
 He hath no root, nor to one place is ty*d,
 
 Henry Vaughan. 329 
 
 But ever restless and Irregular 
 
 About this Earth doth run and ride. 
 He knows he hath a home, but scarce knows where ; 
 
 He says it is so far, 
 That he hath quite forgot how to "go there. 
 
 He knocks at all doors, strays and roams : 
 Nay hath not so much wit as some stones have, 
 Which in the darkest nights point to their homes 
 
 By some hid sense their Maker gave : 
 Man is the shuttle, to whose winding quest 
 And passage through these looms 
 God order'd motion, but ordain'd no rest. ' 
 
 There is great moral force about this ; its measure 
 and words put one in mind of the majestic lines of 
 Shirley, beginning 
 
 ' The glories of our earthly state 
 Are shadows, not substantial things.' 
 
 COCK-CROWING. 
 
 ' Father of lights ! what Sunnie seed, 
 
 What glance of day hast thou confin'd 
 Into this bird ? To all the breed 
 This busie Ray thou hast assign'd ; 
 Their magnetisme works all night, 
 And dreams of Paradise and light. 
 
 Their eyes watch for the morning-hue, 
 
 Their little grain expelling night 
 So shines and sings, as if it knew 
 The path unto the house of light. 
 
 It seems their candle, howe'er done, 
 Was tinn'd and lighted at the sunne.' 
 
 This is a conceit, but an exquisite one.
 
 33 Henry Vaughan. 
 
 PROVIDENCE. 
 ' Sacred and secret hand ! 
 By whose assisting, swift command 
 The Angel shewd that holy Well, 
 
 Which freed poor Hagar from her fears, 
 And turn'd to smiles the begging tears 
 Ofyong, distressed Ishmael. ' 
 
 There is something very beautiful and touching in 
 the opening of this on Providence, and in the ' yong 
 distressed Ishmael.' 
 
 THE DAWNING. 
 
 ' Ah ! what time wilt thou come ? when shall that crie, 
 The Bridegroome's Comming ! fill the sky ? 
 Shall it in the Evening run 
 When our words and works are done ? 
 Or will thy all-surprizing light 
 
 Break at midnight, 
 
 When either sleep, or some dark pleasure 
 Possesseth mad man without measure ? 
 Or shall these early, fragrant hours 
 
 Unlock thy bowres ? 
 And with their blush of light descry 
 Thy locks crown'd with eternitie ? 
 Indeed, it is the only time 
 That with thy glory doth best chime ; 
 All now are stirring, ev'ry field 
 
 Full hymns doth yield ; 
 The whole Creation shakes off night, 
 And for thy shadow looks the light.' 
 
 This last line is full of grandeur and originality. 
 
 THE LAW AND THE GOSPEL. 
 ' Lord, when thou didst en Sinai pitch, 
 And shine from Paran, when a firie Law,
 
 Henry Vaughan. 331 
 
 Pronounc'd with thunder and thy threats, did thaw 
 Thy People's hearts, when all thy weeds were rich, 
 And Inaccessible for light, 
 
 Terrour, and might ; 
 How did poore flesh, which after thou didst weare, 
 
 Then faint and fear ! 
 
 Thy Chosen flock, like leafs in a high wind, 
 Whisper 'd obedience, and their heads inclin'd.' 
 
 The idea in the last lines, we may suppose, was 
 suggested by what Isaiah says of the effect produced 
 on Ahaz and the men of Judah, when they heard that 
 Rezin, king of Syria, had joined Israel against them. 
 ' And his heart was moved, and the heart of his people, 
 as the trees of the wood are moved by the winds? 
 
 HOLY SCRIPTURES. 
 ' Welcome, dear book, soul's Joy and food ! The feast 
 
 Of Spirits ; Heav'n extracted lyes in thee. 
 Thou art life's Charter, The Dove's spotless nest 
 Where souls are hatch'd unto Eternitie. 
 
 In thee the hidden stone, the Manna lies ; 
 
 Thou art the great Elixir rare and Choice ; 
 The Key that opens to all Mysteries, 
 
 The Word in Characters, God in the Voice. ' 
 
 This is very like Herbert, and not inferior to him. 
 
 In a poem having the odd mark of ' f,' and which 
 seems to have been written after the death of some 
 dear friends, are these two stanzas, the last of which 
 is singularly pathetic : 
 
 ' They are all gone into the world of light ! 
 And I alone sit lingring hete !
 
 332 Henry Vaughan. 
 
 Their very memory is fair and bright, 
 And my sad thoughts doth clear. 
 
 He that hath found some fledg'd bird's nest may know 
 
 At first sight if the bird be flown ; 
 But what fair Dell or Grove he sings in now, 
 
 That is to him unknown.' 
 
 Referring to Nicodemus visiting our Lord : 
 
 THE NIGHT. (JOHN m. 2.) 
 
 ' Most blest believer he ! 
 Who in that land of darkness and blinde eyes 
 Thy long expected healing wings could see, 
 
 When thou didst rise ; 
 And, what can never more be done, 
 Did at midnight speak with the Sun ! 
 
 O who will tell me where 
 He found thee at that dead and silent hour ? 
 What hallow'd solitary ground did bear 
 So rare a flower; 
 
 Within whose sacred leaves did lie 
 
 The fulness of the Deity ? 
 
 No mercy-seat of gold, 
 
 No dead and dusty Cherub, nor carved stone, 
 But his own living works, did my Lord hold 
 
 And lodge alone ; 
 
 Where trees and herbs did watch and peep, 
 And wonder, while the Jews did sleep. 
 
 Dear night ! this world's defeat ; 
 The stop to busie fools ; care's check and curb ; 
 The day of Spirits ; my soul's calm retreat 
 Which none disturb ! 
 
 Christ's 1 progress and his prayer time ; 
 
 The hours to which high Heaven doth chime. 
 
 1 Mark L 35 ; Luke xxi. 37.
 
 Henry Vaughan. 333 
 
 God's silent, searching flight : 
 When my Lord's head is filled with dew, and all 
 His locks are wet with the clear drops of night ; 
 
 His still, soft call ; 
 
 His knocking time ; the soul's dumb watch, 
 When spirits their Fair Kindred catch. 
 Were all my loud, evil days, 
 Calm and unhaunted as is Thy dark Tent, 
 Whose peace but by some Angel's wing or voice 
 
 Is seldom rent ; 
 
 Then I in Heaven all the long year 
 Would keep, and never wander here.' 
 
 At the end he has these striking words 
 ' There is in God, some say, 
 
 A deep but dazzling darkness ' 
 
 This brings to our mind the concluding sentence 
 of Mr. Ruskin's fifth chapter in his second volume 
 ' The infinity of God is not mysterious, it is only 
 unfathomable ; not concealed, but incomprehensi- 
 ble ; it is a clear infinity, the darkness of the pure, un- 
 searchable sea. 1 Plato, if we rightly remember, says 
 ' Truth is the body of God, light is His shadow.' 
 
 DEATH. 
 ' Though since thy first sad entrance 
 
 By just Abel's blood, 
 'Tis now six thousand years well nigh, 
 And still thy sovereignty holds good ; 
 Yet by none art thou understood. 
 We talk and name thee with much ease, 
 
 As a tryed thing, 
 
 And every one can slight his lease, 
 As if it ended in a Spring, 
 Which shades and bowers doth rent-free bring.
 
 334 Henry Vaughan. 
 
 To thy dark land these heedless go, 
 
 But there was One 
 
 Who search'd it quite through to and fro, 
 And then, returning like the Sun, 
 Discover'd all that there is done. 
 
 And since His death we throughly see 
 
 All thy dark way ; 
 Thy shades but thin and narrow be, 
 Which his first looks will quickly fray : 
 Mists make but triumphs for the day.' 
 
 THE WATER-FALL. 
 
 ' With what deep murmurs, through time's silent stealth, 
 Doth thy transparent, cool and watry wealth 
 
 Here flowing fall, 
 
 And chide and call, 
 As if his liquid, loose Retinue staid 
 Lingring, and were of this steep place afraid.' 
 
 THE SHOWER. 
 
 ' Waters above ! Eternal springs ! 
 The dew that silvers the Dove's wings ! 
 O welcome, welcome to the sad ! 
 Give dry dust drink, drink that makes glad. 
 Many fair Evenings, many flowers 
 Sweetened with rich and gentle showers, 
 Have I enjoyed, and down have run 
 Many a fine and shining Sun ; 
 But never, till this happy hour, 
 Was blest with such an evening shower ! ' 
 
 What a curious felicity about the repetition of 
 : drink' in the fourth line.
 
 Henry Vaughan. 335 
 
 ' Isaac's Marriage' is one of the best of the pieces, 
 but is too long for insertion. 
 
 'THE RAINBOW' 
 has seldom been better sung : 
 
 ' Still young-and fine ! but what is still in view 
 We slight as old and soil'd, though fresh and new. 
 How bright wert thou, when Shem's admiring eye 
 Thy burnisht, flaming Arch did first descry ! 
 When Terah, Nahor, Haran, Abram, Lot, 
 The youthful world's gray fathers in one knot, 
 Did with intentive looks watch every hour 
 For thy new light, and trembled at each shower ! 
 When thou dost shine darkness looks white and fair, 
 Forms turn to Musick, clouds to smiles and air : 
 Rain gently spends his honey-drops, and pours 
 Balm on the cleft earth, milk on grass and flowers. 
 Bright pledge of peace and Sunshine ! the sure tye 
 Of thy Lord's hand, the object 1 of His eye ! 
 When I behold thee, though my light be dim, 
 Distant and low, I can in thine see Him 
 Who looks upon thee from His glorious throne, 
 And mindes the Covenant 'twixt All and One. ' 
 
 What a knot of the grey fathers ! 
 
 'Terah, Nahor, Haran, Abram, Lot!' 
 Our readers will see whence Campbell stole, and 
 how he spoiled in the stealing (by omitting the word 
 ' youthful '), the well-known line in his ' Rainbow ' 
 
 ' How came the world's grey fathers forth 
 To view the sacred sign. ' 
 
 1 Gen. ix. 16.
 
 336 Henry Vaughan. 
 
 Campbell did not disdain to take this, and no one 
 will say much against him, though it looks ill, occur- 
 ring in a poem on the rainbow ; but we cannot so 
 easily forgive him for saying that ' Vaughan is one of 
 the harshest even of the inferior order of conceit, 
 having some few scattered thoughts that meet our 
 eye amidst his harsh pages, like wild-flowers on a 
 barren heath.' 
 
 ' Rules and Lessons ' is his longest and one of his 
 best poems; but we must send our readers to the 
 book itself, where they will find much to make them 
 grateful to ' The Silurist,' and to Mr. Pickering, who 
 has already done such good service for the best of 
 our elder literature. 
 
 We have said little about the deep godliness, the 
 spiritual Christianity, with which every poem is pene- 
 trated and quickened. Those who can detect and 
 relish this best, will not be the worse pleased at our 
 saying little about it. Vaughan's religion is deep, 
 lively, personal, tender, kindly, impassioned, tem- 
 perate, central. His religion grows up, effloresces 
 into the ideas and forms of poetry as naturally, as 
 noiselessly, as beautifully as the life of the unseen 
 seed finds its way up into the ' bright consummate 
 flower.' 
 
 Of ' IX. Poems by V.,' we would say with the 
 Quarterly, /3aia p\v, aAAa TOAA. They combine
 
 Henry Vaiighan. 337 
 
 rare excellences; the concentration, the finish, the 
 gravity of a man's thought, with the tenderness, the 
 insight, the constitutional sorrowfulness of a woman's 
 her purity, her passionateness, her delicate and 
 keen sense and expression. We confess we would 
 rather have been the author of any one of the nine 
 poems in this little volume, than of the somewhat 
 tremendous, absurd, raw, loud, and fuliginous ' Festus,' 
 with his many thousands of lines and his amazing 
 reputation, his bad English, bad religion, bad philo- 
 sophy, and very bad jokes his 'buttered thunder' 
 (this is his own phrase), and his poor devil of a 
 Lucifer we would, we repeat (having in this our 
 subita ac sceva indlgnatio run ourselves a little out of 
 breath), as much rather keep company with 'V.' than 
 with Mr. Bailey, as we would prefer going to sea for 
 pleasure, in a trim little yacht, with its free motions, 
 its quiet, its cleanliness, to taking a state berth in 
 some Fire-King steamer of one thousand horse 
 power, with his mighty and troublous throb, his 
 smoke, his exasperated steam, his clangour, and fire 
 and fury, his oils and smells. 
 
 Had we time, and were this the fit place, we could, 
 we think, make something out of this comparison of 
 the boat with its sail and its rudder, and the unseen, 
 wayward, serviceable winds playing about it, inspir- 
 ing it, and swaying its course, and the iron steamer, 
 with its machinery, its coarse energy, its noises and 
 Y
 
 338 Henry Vazighan. 
 
 philosophy, its ungainly build and gait, its perilous- 
 ness from within ; and we think we could show how 
 much of what Aristotle, Lord Jeffrey, Charles Lamb, 
 or Edmund Burke would have called genuine poetry 
 there is in the slender 'V.,' and how little in the 
 big 'Festus.' We have made repeated attempts, 
 but we cannot get through this poem. It beats us. 
 We must want the Festus sense. Some of our best 
 friends, with whom we generally agree on such mat- 
 ters, are distressed .for us, and repeat long passages 
 with great energy and apparent intelligence and 
 satisfaction. Meanwhile, having read the six pages 
 of public opinion at the end of the third and People's 
 edition, we take it for granted that it is a great per- 
 formance, that, to use one of the author's own words* 
 there is a mighty ' somethingness' 1 about it and we 
 can entirely acquiesce in the quotation from The 
 Sunday Times, that they ' read it with astonishment, 
 and closed it with bewilderment.' It would appear 
 from these opinions, which from their intensity, 
 variety, and number (upwards of 50), are curious 
 signs of the times, that Mr. Bailey has not so much 
 improved on, as happily superseded the authors of 
 Job and Ecclesiastes, of the Divine Comedy, of 
 Paradise Lost and Regained, of Dr. Faustus, Hamlet, 
 and Faust, of Don Juan, the Course of Time, St. 
 Leon, the Jolly Beggars, and the Loves of the 
 Angels.
 
 Henry Vaughan. 339 
 
 He is more sublime and simple than Job more 
 royally witty and wise, more to the quick and the 
 point than Solomon more picturesque, more in- 
 tense, more pathetic than Dante more Miltonic (we 
 have no other word) than Milton more dreadful, 
 more curiously blasphemous, more sonorous than 
 Marlowe more worldly-wise and clever, and intel- 
 lectually svelt than Goethe. More passionate, more 
 eloquent, more impudent than Byron more ortho- 
 dox, more edifying, more precocious than Pollok 
 more absorptive and inveterate than Goodwin ; and 
 more hearty and tender, more of love and manhood 
 all compact than Burns more gay than Moore 
 more /xvpiavous than Shakspeare. 
 
 It may be so. We have made repeated and reso- 
 lute incursions in various directions into its torrid 
 zone, but have always come out greatly scorched and 
 stunned and affronted. Never before did we come 
 across such an amount of energetic and tremendous 
 words, going ' sounding on their dim and perilous 
 way,' like a cataract at midnight not flowing like a 
 stream, nor leaping like a clear waterfall, but always 
 among breakers roaring and tearing and tempesting 
 with a sort of transcendental din ; and then what 
 power of energizing and speaking, and philosophizing 
 and preaching, and laughing and joking and love- 
 making, in vacua ! As far as we can judge, and as 
 far as we can keep our senses in such a region, it
 
 34 Henry Vaughan. 
 
 seems to us not a poem at all, hardly even poetical 
 but rather the materials for a poem, made up of 
 science, religion, and love, the (very raw) materials 
 of a structure as if the bricks and mortar, and lath 
 and plaster, and furniture, and fire and fuel and meat 
 and drink, and inhabitants male and female, of a 
 house were all mixed ' through other' in one enorm- 
 ous imbroglio. It is a sort of fire-mist, out of which 
 poetry, like a star, might by curdling, condensation, 
 crystallization, have been developed, after much 
 purging, refining, and cooling, much time and pains. 
 Mr. Bailey is, we believe, still a young man, full of 
 energy full, we doubt not, of great and good aims ; 
 let him read over a passage, we daresay he knows 
 it well, in the second book of Milton on Church 
 Government, he will there, among many other things 
 worthy of his regard, find that ' the wily subtleties 
 and refluxes of man's thoughts from within,' which is 
 the haunt and main region of his song, may be 
 'painted out and described' with 'a solid and treat- 
 able smoothness' If he paint out and describe after 
 this manner, he may yet more than make up for this 
 sin of his youth ; and let him take our word for it 
 and fling away nine-tenths of his adjectives, and in 
 the words of Old Shirley 
 
 ' Compose his poem clean without 'em. 
 A row of stately SUBSTANTIVES would march 
 Like Switzers, and bear all the fields before 'em ;
 
 Henry Vaughan. 341 
 
 Carry their weight ; show fair, like Deeds enroll'd ; 
 
 Not Writs, that are first made and after filed. 
 
 Thence first came up the title of Blank Verse ; 
 
 You know, sir, what Blank signifies ; when the sense, 
 
 First framed, is tied with adjectives like points, 
 
 Hang 'I, 'tis pedantic vulgar poetry. 
 
 Let children, ivhen they versify, stick Jure 
 
 And there, these piddling -words for want of matter. 
 
 Poets write masculine numbers. ' 
 
 Here are some of V.'s Roses 
 
 THE GRAVE. 
 
 ' I stood within the grave's o'ershadowing vault ; 
 
 Gloomy and damp it stretch'd its vast domain ; 
 Shades were its boundary ; for my strain'd eye sought 
 For other limit to its width in vain. 
 
 Faint from the entrance came a daylight ray, 
 And distant sound of living men and things ; 
 
 This, in th' encountering darkness pass'd away, 
 That, took the tone in which a mourner sings. 
 
 I lit a torch at a sepulchral lamp, 
 
 Which shot a thread of light amid the gloom ; 
 And feebly burning 'gainst the rolling damp, 
 
 I bore it through the regions of the tomb. 
 
 Around me stretch'd the slumbers of the dead, 
 
 Whereof the silence ached upon my ear ; 
 More and more noiseless did I make my tread, 
 
 And yet its echoes chill'd my heart with fear. 
 
 The former men of every age and place, 
 
 From all their wand' rings gather'd, round me lay ; 
 
 The dust of wither' d Empires did I trace, 
 And stood 'mid Generations pass'd away. 
 
 I saw whole cities, that in flood or fire, 
 Or famine or the plague, gave up their breath ;
 
 342 Henry Vaughan. 
 
 Whole armies whom a day beheld expire, 
 
 Swept by ten thousands to the arms of Death. 
 
 I saw the old world's white and wave-swept bones, 
 A giant heap of creatures that had been ; 
 
 Far and confused the broken skeletons 
 
 Lay strewn beyond mine eye's remotest ken. 
 
 Death's various shrines the Urn, the Stone, the Lamp- 
 Were scatter'd round, confused, amid the dead; 
 
 Symbols and Types were mould'ring in the damp, 
 Their shapes were waning and their meaning fled. 
 
 Unspoken tongues, perchance in praise or wo, 
 Were character'd on tablets Time had swept ; 
 
 And deep -were half their letters hid below ' 
 
 The thick small dust of those they once had wept. 
 
 No hand was here to wipe the dust away ; 
 
 No reader of the writing traced beneath ; 
 No spirit sitting by its form of clay ; 
 
 No sigh nor sound from all the heaps of Death. 
 
 One place alone had ceased to hold its prey ; 
 
 A form had press 'd il and was there nc more ; 
 The garments of the Grave beside it lay, 
 
 Where once they wrapped him on the rocky floor. 
 
 He only -with returning footsteps broke 
 
 Tl? eternal calm "wherewith the Tomb was bound ; 
 
 Among the sleeping Dead alone He woke, 
 
 And bless 1 d iui!h oittstntcKd hands the host around. 
 
 Well is it that such blessing hovers here, 
 To soothe each sad survivor of the throng, 
 
 Who haunt the portals oflht solemn sphere, 
 And pour their wo the loaded air along. 
 
 They to the 7>erge have follow' 1 d what they love, 
 And on M insuperable threshold stand ; 
 
 With cherished names its speechless calm reproru, 
 And stretch in the abyss their ungrasp 'd hand.
 
 Henry Vaughan. 343 
 
 But vainly there they seek their soul's relief, 
 And of th' obdurate Grave its prey implore ; 
 
 Till Death himself shall medicine their grief, 
 Closing their eyes by those they wept before. 
 
 All that have died, the Earth's whole race, repose 
 Where Death collects his Treasures, heap on heap ; 
 
 O'er each one's busy day, the nightshades close ; 
 
 Its Actors, Sufferers, Schools, Kings, Armies sleep.' 
 
 The lines in italics are of the highest quality, both 
 in thought and word ; the allusion to Him who by 
 dying abolished death, seems to us wonderfully fine 
 sudden, simple it brings to our mind the lines 
 already quoted from Vaughan : 
 
 1 But there was One 
 
 Who search'd it quite through to and fro, 
 And then, returning like the Sun, 
 Discover'd all that there is done. ' 
 
 What a rich line this is ! 
 
 ' And pour their wo the loaded air along.' 
 
 ' The insuperable threshold ! ' 
 
 Do our readers remember the dying Corinne's 
 words? Je mourrais seule-au reste, ce moment se 
 passe de secours; nos amis ne peuvent nous suivre 
 que jusqitau seuil de la vie. Z,d, commencent des 
 pensees dont le trouble et la profondeur ne sauraient se 
 confier. 
 
 We have only space for one more verses entitled 
 ' Heart' s-Ease.'
 
 344 Henry Vaughan. 
 
 HEART'S-EASE. 
 
 ' Oh, Heart's-Ease, dost thou lie within that flower ? 
 
 How shall I draw thee thence ? so much I need 
 The healing aid of thine enshrined power 
 
 To veil the past and bid the time good speed ! 
 I gather it it withers on my breast ; 
 
 The heart's-ease dies when it is laid on mine ; 
 Methinks there is no shape by Joy possess'd, 
 
 Would better fare than thou, upon that shrine. 
 
 Take from me things gone by oh, change the past 
 Renew the lost restore me the decay'd ; 
 
 Bring back the days whose tide has ebb'd so fast 
 Give form again to the fantastic shade ! 
 
 My hope, that never grew to certainty, 
 My youth, that perish'd in its vain desire, 
 
 My fond ambition, crush' d ere it could be 
 Aught save a self-consuming, wasted fire : 
 
 Bring these anew, and set me once again 
 
 In the delusion of Life's Infancy 
 I was not happy, but I knew not then 
 
 That happy I was never doom'd to be. 
 
 Till these things are, and powers divine descend 
 Love, kindness, joy, and hope, to gild my day, 
 
 In vain the emblem leaves towards me bend, 
 Thy Spirit, Heart's-Ease, is too far away ! ' 
 
 We would fain have given two poems entitled 
 ' Bessy ' and ' Youth and Age.' Everything in this 
 little volume is select and good. Sensibility and 
 sense in right measure, proportion and keeping, 
 and in pure, strong, classical language ; no intem- 
 perance of thought or phrase. Why does not ' V.' 
 write more ?
 
 Henry Vaughan. 345 
 
 We do not very well know how to introduce our 
 friend Mr. Ellison, ' The Bornnatural,' who addresses 
 his ' Madmoments to the Lightheaded of Society at 
 large.' We feel as a father, a mother, or other near 
 of kin would at introducing an ungainly gifted and 
 much-loved son or kinsman, who had the knack of 
 putting his worst foot foremost, and making himself 
 imprimis ridiculous. 
 
 There is something wrong in all awkwardness, a 
 want of jAture somewhere, and we feel affronted even 
 still, p.'ter we have taken the Bornnatural 1 to our 
 Jxjart, and admire and love him, at his absurd gra- 
 tuitous self-befoolment. The book is at first sight 
 one farrago of oddities and offences coarse foreign 
 paper bad printing italics broad-cast over every 
 page the words run into each other in a way we are 
 glad to say is as yet quite original, making such ex- 
 traordinary monsters of words as these beingsriddle 
 sunbeammotes gooddeed midjune summerair 
 selffavour seraphechoes puredeedprompter bark- 
 skeel, etc. Now we like Anglo-Saxon and the poly- 
 gamous German, 2 but we like better the well of 
 
 1 In his Preface he explains the title Bornnatural, as meaning 
 ' one who inherits the natural sentiments and tastes to which he 
 was born, still artunsullied and customfree.' 
 
 2 ex. gr. Konstantinopolitanischerdudcls<.T.ckspfeifergeselle. 
 Here is a word as long as the sea-serpent but, like it, having 
 a head and tail, being what lawyers call unum quid not an up 
 and down series of infatuated phocce, as Professor Owen some-
 
 346 Henry Vaughan. 
 
 English undefiled a well, by-the-bye, much oftener 
 spoken of than drawn from ; but to fashion such 
 words as these words are, is as monstrous as for a 
 painter to compose an animal not out of the elements, 
 but out of the entire bodies of several, of an ass, for 
 instance, a cock, and a crocodile, so as to produce 
 an outrageous individual, with whom even a duck- 
 billed Platypus would think twice before he frater- 
 nized ornithorynchous and paradoxical though he 
 be, poor fellow. 
 
 And yet our Bornnatural's two thick and closely 
 small-printed volumes are as full of poetry as is an 
 ' impassioned grape ' of its noble liquor. 
 
 He is a true poet. But he has not the art of 
 singling his thoughts, an art as useful in composition 
 as in husbandry, as necessary for young fancies as 
 young turnips. Those who have seen our turnip 
 fields in early summer, with the hoers at their work, 
 will understand our reference. If any one wishes to 
 read these really remarkable volumes, we would ad- 
 vise them to begin with ' Season Changes ' and 
 ' Emma, a Tale.' We give two Odes on Psyche, 
 which are as nearly perfect as anything out of Milton 
 or Tennyson. 
 
 The story is the well-known one of Psyche and 
 
 what insolently asserts. Here is what the Bornnatural would 
 have made of it 
 
 ACcnstantiiiopolitanbagpiperontofhisappreniiceship.
 
 Henry Vaughaii. 347 
 
 Cupid, told at such length, and with so much beauty, 
 pathos, and picturesqueness by Apuleius, in his 
 ' Golden Ass.' Psyche is the human soul a beauti- 
 ful young woman. Cupid is spiritual, heavenly love 
 a comely youth. They are married, and live in 
 perfect happiness, but, by a strange decree of fate, he 
 comes and goes unseen, tarrying only for the night ; 
 and he has told her, that if she looks on him with her 
 bodily eye, if she tries to break through the darkness 
 in which they dwell, then he must leave her, and for 
 ever. Her two sisters Anger and Desire, tempt 
 Psyche. She yields to their evil counsel, and thus it 
 fares with her : 
 
 ODE TO PSYCHE. 
 
 ' I . Let not a sigh be breathed, or he is flown ! 
 
 With tiptoe stealth she glides, and throbbing breast, 
 Towards the bed, like one who dares not own 
 Her purpose, and half shrinks, yet cannot rest 
 From her rash Essay : in one trembling hand 
 She bears a lamp, which sparkles on a sword ; 
 In the dim light she seems a wandering dream 
 Of loveliness : 'tis Psyche and her Lord, 
 Her yet unseen, who slumbers like a beam 
 Of Moonlight, vanishing as soon as scann'd ! 
 
 2. One Moment, and all bliss hath fled her heart, 
 Like windstole odours from the rosebud's cell, 
 Or as the earthdashed dewdrop which no art 
 Can e'er replace : alas ! we learn full well 
 How beautiful the Past when it is o'er, 
 But with seal'd eyes we hurry to the brink,
 
 348 Henry Vaughan. 
 
 Blind as the waterfall : oh, stay thy feet, 
 Thou rash one, be content to know no more 
 Of bliss than thy heart teaches thee, nor think 
 The sensual eye can grasp a form more sweet 
 
 3. Than that which for itself the soul should chuse 
 For higher adoration ; but in vain ! 
 
 Onward she moves, and as the lamp's faint hues 
 Flicker around, her charmed eyeballs strain, 
 For there he lies in undreamt loveliness ! 
 Softly she steals towards him, and bends o'er 
 His slumberlidded eyes, as a lily droops 
 Faint o'er a folded rose : one caress 
 She would but dares not take, and as she stood, 
 An oildrop from the lamp fell burning sore ! 
 
 4. Thereat sleepfray'd, dreamlike the God takes Wing 
 And soars to his own skies, while Psyche strives 
 To clasp his foot, and fain thereon would cling, 
 But falls insensate ; 
 
 Psyche ! thou shouldst have taken that high gift 
 Of Love as it was meant, that mystery 
 Did ask thy faith, the Gods do test our worth, 
 And ere they grant high boons our heart would sift ! 
 
 5. Hadst thou no divine Vision of thine own ? 
 Didst thou not see the Object of thy Love 
 Clothed with a Beauty to dull clay unknown ? 
 And could not that bright Image, far above 
 The Reach of sere Decay, content thy Thought ? 
 Which with its glory would have wrapp'd thee round, 
 To the Gravesbrink, untouched by Age or Pain ! 
 Alas ! we mar what Fancy's Womb has brought 
 Forth of most beautiful, and to the Bound 
 
 Of Sense reduce the Helen of the Brain ! ' 
 
 What a picture ! Psyche, pale with love and fear, 
 bending in the uncertain light, over her lord, with
 
 Henry Vaughan. 349 
 
 the rich flush of health and sleep and manhood on 
 his cheek, ' as a lily droops faint o'er a folded rose /' 
 We remember nothing anywhere finer than this. 
 
 ODE TO PSYCHE. 
 
 ' I. Why stand'st thou thus at Gaze 
 
 In the faint Tapersrays, 
 With strained Eyeballs fixed upon that Bed ? 
 
 Has he then flown away, 
 
 Lost, like a Star in Day, 
 Or like a Pearl in Depths unfathomed ? 
 
 Alas ! thou hast done very ill, 
 Thus with thine Eyes the Vision of thy Soul to kill ! 
 
 2. Thought's! thou that earthly Light 
 Could then assist thy Sight, 
 
 Or that the Limits of Reality 
 
 Could grasp Things fairer than 
 
 Imagination's Span, 
 Who communes with the Angels of the Sky, 
 
 Thou graspest at the Rainbow, and 
 Wouldst make it as the Zone with which thy Waist is 
 spanned ! 
 
 3. And what find'st thou in his Stead ? 
 Only the empty Bed ! 
 
 Thou sought'st the Earthly and therefore 
 The heavenly is gone, for that must ever soar ! 
 
 4. For the bright World of 
 Pure and boundless Love 
 
 What hast thou found ? alas ! a narrow room ! 
 
 Put out that Light, 
 
 Restore thy Soul its Sight, 
 For better 'tis to dwell in outward Gloom 
 
 Than thus, by the vile Body's eye, 
 
 To rob the Soul of its Infinity !
 
 350 Henry Vanghan. 
 
 5. Love, Love has Wings, and he 
 
 Soon out of Sight will flee, 
 Lost in far Ether to the sensual Eye, 
 
 But the Soul's Vision true 
 
 Can track him, yea, up to 
 
 The Presence and the Throne of the Most High : 
 For thence he is, and tho' he dwell below, 
 To the Soul only he his genuine Form will show ! ' 
 
 Mr. Ellison was a boy of twenty-three when he 
 wrote this. That, with so much command of ex- 
 pression and of measure, he should run waste and 
 formless and even void, as he does in other parts of 
 his volumes, is very mysterious and very distressing. 
 
 How we became possessed of the poetical Epistle 
 from ' E. V. K. to his Friend in Town,' is more easily- 
 asked than answered. We avow ourselves in the 
 matter to have acted for once on M. Proudhon's 
 maxim ' La propriete c'est le vol.' 1 We merely say, in 
 our defence, that it is a shame in ' E. V. K.,' be he 
 who he may, to hide his talent in a napkin, or keep 
 it for his friends alone. It is just such men and such 
 poets as he that we most need at present, sober- 
 minded and sound-minded and well-balanced, whose 
 genius is subject to their judgment, and who have 
 genius and judgment to begin with a part of the 
 poetical stock in trade with which many of our 
 living writers are not largely furnished. The Epistle 
 is obviously written quite off-hand, but it is the 
 off-hand of a master, both as to material and work- 
 manship. He is of the good old manly, classical
 
 Henry Vaugkan. 351 
 
 school. His thoughts have settled and cleared them- 
 selves before forming into the mould of verse. They 
 are in the style of Stewart Rose's vers de societe, but 
 have more of the graphic force and deep feeling and 
 fine humour of Crabbe and Cowper in their sub- 
 stance, with a something of their own which is to us 
 quite as delightful. But our readers may judge. 
 After upbraiding, with much wit, a certain faithless 
 town-friend for not making out his visit, he thus 
 describes his residence : 
 
 ' Though its charms be few, 
 The place will please you, and may profit too ; 
 My house, upon the hillside built, looks down 
 On a neat harbour and a lively town. 
 Apart, 'mid screen of trees, it stands, just where 
 We see the popular bustle, but not share. 
 Full in our front is spread a varied scene 
 A royal ruin, grey or clothed with green, 
 Church spires, tower, docks, streets, terraces, and trees, 
 Back'd by green fields, which mount by due degrees 
 Into brown uplands, stretching high away 
 To where, by silent tarns, the wild deer stray. 
 Below, with gentle tide, the Atlantic Sea 
 Laves the curved beach, and fills the cheerful quay, 
 Where frequent glides the sail, and dips the oar, 
 And smoking steamer halts with hissing roar.' 
 
 Then follows a long passage of great eloquence, 
 truth, and wit, directed against the feverish, affected, 
 unwholesome life in town, before which he fears 
 
 ' Even he, my friend, the man whom once I knew, 
 Surrounded by blue women and pale men,' 
 
 has fallen a victim ; and then concludes with these 
 lines, which it would not be easy to match for every-
 
 352 Henry Vaughan. 
 
 thing that constitutes good poetry. As he writes he 
 chides himself for suspecting his friend ; and a-, that 
 moment (it seems to have been written on Christmas 
 day) he hears the song of a thrush, and forthwith he 
 ' bursts into a song,' as full-voiced, as native, as sweet 
 and strong, as that of his bright-eyed feathered friend : 
 
 ' But, hark that sound ! the mavis ! can it be ? 
 Once more ! It is. High perched on yon bare tree, 
 He starts the wondering winter with his trill ; 
 Or by that sweet sun westering o'er the hill 
 Allured, or for he thinks melodious mirth 
 Due to the holy season of Christ's birth. 
 And hark ! as his clear fluting fills the air, 
 Low broken notes and twitterings you may hear 
 From other emulous birds, the brakes among ; 
 Fain would they also burst into a song ; 
 But winter warns, and muffling up their throats, 
 They liquid for the spring preserve their notes. 
 O sweet preluding ! having heard that strain, 
 How dare I lift my dissonant voice again ? 
 Let me be still, let me enjoy the time, 
 Bothering myself or thee no more with rugged rhyme. ' 
 
 This author must not be allowed to ' muffle up his 
 throat,' and keep his notes for some imaginary and 
 far-off spring. He has not the excuse of the mavis. 
 He must give us more of his own ' clear fluting.' Let 
 him, with that keen, kindly and thoughtful eye, look 
 from his retreat, as Cowper did, upon the restless, 
 noisy world he has left, seeing the popular bustle, 
 not sharing it, and let his pen record in such verses 
 as these what his understanding and his affections 
 think and feel and his imagination informs, and we 
 shall have something in verse not unlike the letters
 
 Henry Vaughan. 353 
 
 from Olney. There is one line which deserves to be 
 immortalized over the cherished bins of our wine- 
 fanciers, where repose their 
 
 ' Dear prisoned spirits of the impassioned grape.' 
 What is good makes us think of what is better, as 
 well, and it is to be hoped more, than of what is 
 worse. There is no sweetness so sweet as that of 
 a large and deep nature ; there is no knowledge so 
 good, so strengthening as that of a great mind, which 
 is for ever filling itself afresh. ' Out of the* eater 
 comes forth meat ; out of the strong comes forth 
 sweetness.' Here is one of such l dulcedines vitret* 
 the sweetness of a strong man : 
 
 ' Now came still evening on, and twilight grey 
 Had in her sober livery all things clad ; 
 Silence accompany'd ; for beast and bird, 
 They to their grassy couch, these to their nests, 
 Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale ; 
 She all night long her amorous descant sung ; 
 Silence was pleased : now glow'd the firmament 
 With living saphirs ; Hesperus that led 
 The starry host rode brightest, till the moon, 
 Rising in clouded majesty, at length 
 Apparent queen unveil'd her peerless light, 
 And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw.' 
 
 Were we inclined to do anything but enjoy this and 
 be thankful giving ourselves up to its gentleness, 
 informing ourselves with its quietness and beauty, 
 we would note the simplicity, the neutral tints, the 
 quietness of its language, the ' sober livery ' in which 
 its thoughts are clad. In the first thirty-eight words,
 
 354 Henry Vaugkan. 
 
 twenty-nine are monosyllables. Then there is the 
 gradual way in which the crowning phantasy is intro- 
 duced. It comes upon us at once, and yet not 
 wholly unexpected ; it ' sweetly creeps ' into our 
 ' study of imagination ; ' it lives and moves, but it 
 is a moving that is 'delicate ;' it flows in upon us 
 incredibili lenitate. ' Evening ' is a matter of fact, 
 and its stillness too a time of the day ; and 
 ' twilight' is little more. We feel the first touch of 
 spiritual life in ' her sober livery,' and bolder and 
 deeper in ' all things clad? Still we are not deep, the 
 real is not yet transfigured and transformed, and we 
 are brought back into it after being told that ' Silence 
 accompanied,' by the explanatory ' for,' and the bit 
 of sweet natural history of the beasts and birds. The 
 mind dilates and is moved, its eye detained over the 
 picture ; and then comes that rich, ' thick warbled 
 note ' ' all but the wakeful nightingale ; ' this fills and 
 informs the ear, making it also ' of apprehension 
 more quick,' and we are prepared now for the great 
 idea coming ' into the eye and prospect of our soul ' 
 SILENCE WAS PLEASED ! There is nothing in all 
 poetry above this. Still, evening and twilight grey 
 are now Beings, coming on, and walking over the 
 earth like queens, 'with Silence,' 
 
 ' Admiration's speaking'st tongue,' 
 
 as their pleased companion. All is ' calm and free,' 
 and 'full of life ;' it is a ' Holy Time.' What a pic-
 
 Henry Vaughan. 355 
 
 ture ! what simplicity of means ! what largeness and 
 perfectness of effect! what knowledge and love of 
 nature ! what supreme art ! what modesty and sub- 
 mission ! what self-possession ! what plainness, what 
 selectness of speech ! ' As is the height, so is the 
 depth. The intensities must be at once opposite 
 and equal. As the liberty, so the reverence for law. 
 As the independence, so must be the seeing and the 
 service, and the submission to the Supreme Will. As 
 the ideal genius and the originality, so must be the 
 resignation to the real world, the sympathy and the 
 intercommunion with Nature.' Coleridge's Posthu- 
 mous Tract, 'T/ie Idea of Life: 
 
 Since writing the above, our friend ' E.V.K.' has 
 shown himself curiously unaffected by ' that last in- 
 firmity of noble minds,' his 'clear spirit' heeds all 
 too little its urgent 'spur.' The following sonnets 
 are all we can pilfer from him. They are worth the 
 stealing : 
 
 AN ARGUMENT IN RHYME:. 
 
 i. 
 
 ' Things that now are beget the things to be, 
 As they themselves were gotten by things past ; 
 Thou art a sire, who yesterday but wast 
 A child like him now prattling on thy knee ; 
 And he in turn ere long shall offspring see. 
 Effects at first, seem causes at the last, 
 Yet only seem ; when off their veil is cast, 
 All speak alike of mightier energy, 
 Received and pass'd along. The life that flows 
 Through space and time, bursts in a loftier source.
 
 ;56 Henry Vaughtin. 
 
 What 's spaced and timed is bounded, therefore shows 
 A power beyond, a timeless, spaceless force, 
 Templed in that infinitude, before 
 Whose light-veil'd porch men wonder and adore. 
 
 n. 
 
 Wonder ! but for we cannot comprehend 
 Dare not to doubt. Man, know thyself! and know 
 That, being what thou art, it must be so. 
 We creatures are, and it were to transcend 
 The limits of our being, and ascend 
 Above the Infinite, if we could show 
 All that He is, and how things from Him flow. 
 Things and their laws by Man are grasp'd and kenn'd, 
 But creatures must no more ; and Nature's must 
 Is Reason's choice ; for could we all reveal 
 Of God and acts creative, doubt were just. 
 Were these conceivable, they were not real. 
 Here, ignorance man's sphere of being suits, 
 'Tis knowledge self, or of her richest fruits. 
 
 in. 
 
 Then rest here, brother ! and within the veil 
 Boldly thine anchor cast. W r hat though thy boat 
 No shoreland sees, but undulates afloat 
 On soundless depths ? securely fold thy sail. 
 Ah ! not by daring prow and favouring gale 
 Man threads the gulfs of doubting and despond, 
 And gains a rest in being unbeyond. 
 Who roams the furthest, surest is to fail ; 
 Knowing nor what to seek, nor how to find. 
 Not far but near, about us, yea within, 
 Lieth the infinite life. The pure in mind 
 Dwell in the Presence, to themselves akin ; 
 And lo ! thou sick and health imploring soul, 
 He stands beside thee touch, and thou art whole.'
 
 EXCURSUS ETHICUS. 
 
 Verius cogitatur Dens quam dicitur, et verius est quam cogi- 
 tatur. AUGUSTINE. 
 
 In these two things, viz., an equal indifferency for all truth 
 / mean the receiving it in the love of it as truth, but not loving it 
 for any other reason before we know it to be true ; and in the ex- 
 amination of our principles, and not receiving any for such, nor 
 building on them, until we are fully convinced, ay rational 
 creatures, of their solidity, truth, and certainty consists that 
 freedom of the understanding which is necessary to a rational 
 creature, and without which it is not truly an understanding. 
 
 JOHN LOCKE.
 
 EXCURSUS ETHICUS. 
 
 "\ T 7"E have named the excellent works at the close 
 of this paper more with the view of recom- 
 mending them to the study of such of our readers as 
 may be so inclined, than of reviewing them in the 
 technical sense, still less of going over exactly the 
 same ground which they have already so well occu- 
 pied and enriched. Our object in selecting their 
 names out of many others, is, that they are good 
 and varied, both as to time, and view, and character, 
 and also that we may be saved referring to them 
 more particularly. 
 
 Our observations shall be of a very miscellaneous 
 and occasional kind perhaps too much so for the 
 taste or judgment of our readers ; but we think that 
 a rambling excursion is a good and wholesome thing, 
 now and then. 
 
 System is good, but it is apt to enslave and con- 
 fine its maker. Method in art is what system is in 
 science ; and we, physicians, know, to our sad and 
 
 859
 
 360 Excursus Etkicus. 
 
 weighty experience, that we are more occupied with 
 doing some one thing, than in knowing many other 
 things. System is to an art, what an external skeleton 
 is to a crab, something it, as well as the crab, must 
 escape from, if it mean to grow bigger : more of a 
 shield and covering than a support and instrument 
 of power. Our skeletons are inside our bodies, and 
 so generally ought our systems to be inside not 
 outside our minds. 
 
 Were we, for our own and our readers' satisfaction 
 and entertainment, or for some higher and better 
 end, about to go through a course of reading on the 
 foundation of general morals, in order to deduce 
 from them a code of professional ethics, to set 
 ourselves to discover the root, and ascend up from it 
 to the timber, the leaves, the fruit, and the flowers 
 we would not confine ourselves to a stinted brows- 
 ing in the ample and ancient field we would, in 
 right of our construction, be omnivorous, trusting to 
 a stout mastication, a strong digestion, an eclectic 
 and vigorous chylopoietic staff of appropriators and 
 scavengers, to our making something of everything. 
 We would not despise good old Plutarch's morals, or 
 anybody else's, because we know chemistry, and 
 many other things, better than he did ; nor would we 
 be ashamed to confess that our best morality, and our 
 deepest philosophy of the nature and origin of human 
 duty, of moral good and evil, was summed up in the
 
 Excursus Etkicus. 361 
 
 golden rules of childhood, ' Love thy neighbour as 
 thyself.' ' Whatsoever ye would that men should do 
 unto you, do ye even so to them.' ' Every man is 
 thy neighbour.' ' Love is the fulfilling of the law.' 
 ' Ye owe no man anything, but to love one another.' 
 This is the true birthplace of the word ought, that 
 which we owe to some one, and of duty, that which 
 is due by us ; and likewise of moral, that which 
 should be customary, and ethical in the same sense ; 
 the only custom, which it will always be a privilege, 
 as well as a duty to pay the only debt which must 
 always be running up. 
 
 It is worth remembering that names too often 
 become the ghosts of things, and ghosts with a devil 
 or a fool, instead of the original tenant inside. The 
 word manners means literally nothing else, and ought 
 never to be anything else, than the expression, the 
 embodiment, the pleasant flower, of an inward mos or 
 moral state. We may all remember that the Contes 
 Moraux of Marmontel which were, many of them, 
 anything but moral were translated so, instead of 
 Tales illustrative of Manners. 
 
 To go on with our excursus erraticus. 
 
 Were we going to take ourselves and our company 
 into the past, and visit the habitats of the great 
 moralists, and see the country, and make up our 
 minds as to what in it was what, and how much to us 
 it was worth, we would not keep to one line, we
 
 362 Excursus Etkicus. 
 
 would expatiate a little and make it a ramble, not a 
 journey, much less an express train, with no stoppages, 
 we would, moreover, take our own time, choose 
 our own roads, and our own vehicles, we would stay 
 where, and as long as we found entertainment, good 
 lodging, and good fare, and did not lose our time 
 or ourselves, and we would come home, we hope, 
 not informed merely, but in better health and spirits, 
 more contented, more active, more enlightened, more 
 ready for our daily work. We would begin at the 
 beginning, and start early. In search of what is 
 man's normal sense of duty, and how he fs to do it, 
 we would take our company to that garden, planted 
 eastward in Eden, where were all manner of fruits, 
 pleasant to the eye, and good for food ; that garden 
 which every one believes in we don't mean geo- 
 graphically or geologically, but really, as a fact 
 in the history of the race, and relics of which 
 its sounds, its fragrance and beauty he meets still 
 everywhere within him and around him, ' like the re- 
 membrance of things to come,' we would there find 
 the law, the primal condition, under which the species 
 were placed by its Maker how the infinite and the 
 finite, God and his children, giving and receiving, 
 faith and works, met together, and kept in tune 
 how, and by whom, man was made upright, in mind 
 as well as body and what was that first of the 
 many inventions he found out, when he took of the
 
 Excursus Ethicus. 363 
 
 tree of the knowledge of good as well as of evil, and 
 did eat. 
 
 Then we would move on to a wild mountain in 
 Arabia, standing at this day as it did on that, and 
 joining the multitude of that peculiar people whom 
 we still see in the midst of us in our busy world 
 unchanged, the breed still unmixed and out of the 
 bickering flame, the darkness, and the splendour, and 
 ' as it were the very body of heaven in its clearness,' 
 the sight so exceeding terrible, we might hear those 
 ten commandments, which all of us have by heart, 
 not all in our hearts. Lest we should fail with fear, 
 we would go on into the sunlight of Canaan, and 
 forward many centuries, and in the ' Sermon on the 
 Mount,' sitting down among the multitudes, hear 
 our code of laws revised and re-issued by their 
 Giver, and find its summary easily carried away, 
 Love to God, love to man, loving our neighbour as 
 ourselves. 
 
 Then might we go back and visit the Shepherd 
 King, and carry off his io4th, 105, and upth Psalms, 
 and being there, we would take a lesson in morals 
 from his son's life that wisest and foolishest of men 
 and carry off with us his pithy ' Proverbs.' 
 
 Next we would intercept Paul's letter to his friends 
 at Rome, and make an extract of its ist chapter, and 
 its 1 2th and i3th, and end by copying it all ; and 
 having called on James the Less and the Just,
 
 364 Excursus Ethicus. 
 
 we would get his entire epistle by heart, and shut up 
 this, our visit to the Holy Land, with the sound of 
 the last verse of the second last chapter of the 
 Apocalypse ringing in our ears. 
 
 We would then find Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle, 
 and all those noble old fellows, busy at their work, 
 showing us how little and how much man, with the 
 finest organization, and the best discipline, can do 
 for himself in the way of lifting himself from the 
 ground, and erecting himself above himself, by his 
 sheer strength ; and we would not fail to admire the 
 courage, and the deep moral intensity and desire, the 
 amazing beauty and energy of expression, the ampli- 
 tude and depth of their ideas, as if minds were once 
 giant as well as bodies. But we would not tarry with 
 them, we would wish rather to take them with us, 
 and get Socrates to study the Sermon on the Mount, 
 and Plato the Pauline Epistles, where he would meet 
 his fellow, and more than his match, in subtlety and 
 in sense, in solid living thought, in clear and passion- 
 ate utterance, in everything that makes thought felt, 
 and feeling understood, and both motive and effectual. 
 
 Then would we hurry over the dreary interval of the 
 middle passage of the dark ages, where Aristotle's 
 blind children of the mist might be seen spinning 
 ropes, not out of themselves, like the more intelligent 
 and practical spider, but out of the weary sand 
 ropes, signifying nothing; and we might see how,
 
 Excursus Ethicus. 365 
 
 having parted with their senses, they had lost them- 
 selves, and were vox et prceterea nihil. 
 
 But we must shorten our trip. We would cool 
 ourselves, and visit old Hobbes of Malmesbury in 
 his arctic cave, and see him sitting like a polar bear, 
 muttering protests against the universe, nursing his 
 wrath as the only thing with which to warm and 
 cheer that sullen heart, and proclaiming that self- 
 love is every kind of love, and all that in man is 
 good. We would wonder at that palace of ice, sym- 
 metrical, beautiful, strong but below zero. We 
 would come away before we were benumbed, ad- 
 miring much his intrepid air, his keen and clean 
 teeth, his clear eye, his matchless vigour of grip, 
 his redeeming love for his cubs, his dreary mistake 
 of absolute cold for heat, frozen mercury burning as 
 well as molten gold. Leaving him, after trying to get 
 him to give up his cold fishy diet, his long winters of 
 splendid darkness, and come and live with us like a 
 Christian, we would go to an English country-house, 
 to Lady Masham's, at the Gates, the abode of com- 
 fort, cheerfulness, and thoughtful virtue ; and we 
 would there find John Locke, ' communing with the 
 man within the breast,' and listening reverently, but 
 like a man ; and we would carry off from her lady- 
 ship's table her father's (Cudworth) huge magazine 
 of learning, strong intellect, and lofty morality his 
 treatise 'concerning Eternal and Immutable Morality.'
 
 366 Excursiis Ethicus. 
 
 Then we might call for Locke's pupil, Lord Shaftes- 
 bury, the great man and the courtier, but the philo- 
 sopher too, having glimpses of better things, and 
 coming very close to what we are in search of a 
 special moral faculty ; and we would find our friend 
 Dr. Henry More in his laboratory, dreaming in his 
 odd Platonic way, of a ' boniform facility.' 
 
 Next, we would set sail across the Atlantic, and 
 reach in the evening the mild skies of the 'vex't 
 Bermoothes,' and there find the beautiful-souled 
 Berkeley dreaming of ideal universities in the far 
 west of a new world, peopled with myriads as 
 happy, as intelligent, as virtuous as himself; dream- 
 ing, too, of his pancratic 'Tar Water,' and in 
 ' Siris ' ascending from his innocent nostrum, by a 
 Jacob's ladder of easy grade, to Plato's heaven. And 
 being in the neighbourhood, we might as well visit 
 New England, and among its hedgerows and elms, 
 and quiet old villages, forget we are in New Hamp- 
 shire not in old and see in his study a country 
 clergyman, with a thoughtful, contented look, and an 
 eye rich with a grave enthusiasm Jonathan Edwards 
 'whose power of subtle argument, perhaps un- 
 matched, certainly unsurpassed among men, was 
 joined with a personal character which raised his 
 piety to fervour.' We might watch him with his 
 back to the wall of his room, his right heel turning 
 diligently in a hole of its own making in the floor,
 
 Excursus EtJiicus. 367 
 
 and the whole man absorbed in thought ; J and we 
 would bring off what he thought of the ' Nature of 
 True Virtue, and God's chief end in the Creation ; ' 
 and we would find that, by a mental process as 
 steady as that of the heel by his intrepid excogita- 
 tion, his downright simplicity of purpose, and the 
 keen temper of his instrument, he had, to borrow an 
 exquisite illustration, pierced through the subsoil 
 the gravel, the clay, and rocks down to the fresh 
 depths of our common nature, and brought up, as 
 from an Artesian well, his rich reward and ours, in 
 the full flow of the waters of virtue not raised, per 
 saltum, by pump or high pressure, but flowing, pleno- 
 rivo, by a force from within. 
 
 On our return, we might fall in with an ardent, but 
 sensible Irishman, 2 teaching moral philosophy at 
 Glasgow, and hitting, by a sort of felicity, on what 
 had been before so often missed, and satisfying man- 
 kind, at least, with the name of a moral sense as 
 distinct as our sense of bitter and sweet, soft and 
 hard, light and darkness. Then might we take a 
 turn in his garden with Bishop Butler, and hear 
 his wise and weighty, his simple and measured 
 words : ' Nations, like men, go at times deranged.' 
 
 1 Some years ago, an intelligent New England physician 
 told us that this was the great metaphysician's habit and 
 attitude of study, and that he had often seen the hole which the 
 molar heel made during years of meditation. 
 
 2 Hutcheson.
 
 368 Excursus Ethicus. 
 
 ' Everything is what it is, and not another thing.' 
 ' Goodness is a fixed, steady, immoveable principle 
 of action.' ' Reason, with self-love and conscience, 
 are the chief or superior principles in the nature of 
 man ; and they, if we understand our true happiness, 
 always lead us the same way.' ' Duty and interest 
 are perfectly coincident, for the most part, in this 
 world ; and in every instance, if we take in the 
 future and the whole.' We would carry off all his 
 sermons, and indeed everything he had written, and 
 distribute his sermons on the Love of God, on Self- 
 Decaf, The Love of our Neighbour, and The Ignor- 
 ance of Man, all along our road, to small and great. 
 '"We would look in on the author of the History of 
 the Ethical Sciences, on his return, perhaps tired and 
 dispirited, from a speech on the principles of natural 
 and immutable law, in ' the House,' when all had 
 been asleep but himself and the reporters ; and we 
 would listen for hours to his unfolding the meanings 
 which others, and which he himself, attached to that 
 small word ought; and hear him call it ' this most 
 important of words:' and we would come away 
 charmed with the mild wisdom of his thoughts, and 
 the sweet richness of his words. 
 
 We would merely leave our cards at Jeremy 
 Bentham's, that despiser of humbug in others, and 
 unconscious example of it in himself, and we would 
 bring off his Deontological Faculty. Neither would
 
 Excursus EtJiicus. 369 
 
 we care to stay long with that hard-headed, uncom- 
 fortable old man of Kcenigsberg, losing himself, 
 from excess of strictness, in the midst of his meta- 
 physics ; and we would with pity and wonder hear 
 him announce that dreadful ' categorical imperative ' 
 of his, which has been said, with equal wit and truth, 
 to be, ' at its best, but a dark lantern, till it borrows 
 a utilitarian farthing candle a flaming sword that 
 turns every way but drives no whither ' proclaiming 
 a paradise lost, but in no wise pointing the way to a 
 paradise to be regained. 
 
 And before settling at home, we would look in and 
 pay our respects in our own town, to a beneficent, 
 benevolent, enlightened, and upright man, 1 with 
 whom we could agree to differ in some things, and 
 rejoice to agree in many ; and we would bring away 
 from him all that he could tell us of that ' con- 
 scientiousness ' the bodily organ of the inward 
 sense of personal right and wrong, upon the just 
 direction of which no one knows better than he 
 does depend the true safety, and dignity, and 
 happiness of man. 
 
 But after all our travel, we would be little the 
 better or the wiser, if we ourselves did not inwardly 
 digest and appropriate, as ' upon soul and con- 
 science,' all our knowledge. We would much better 
 not have left home. For it is true, that not the light 
 i George Combe.
 
 370 Excursus Ethicus. 
 
 from heaven, not the riches from the earth, not the 
 secrets of nature, not the minds of men, or of our- 
 selves, can do us anything but evil, if our senses, our 
 inward and outward senses, are not kept constantly 
 exercised, so as to discern for ourselves what is good 
 and evil in us and for us. We must carry the lights 
 of our own consciousness and conscience into all 
 our researches, or we will, in all likelihood, loose our 
 pains. 
 
 As we have been, however, on our travels, qua 
 media, as well as general tourists, we shall give the 
 names of some of our best medical moralists : The 
 Oath and Law of Hippocrates, and above all, his 
 personal character, and the whole spirit of his writ- 
 ings and practice Stahl Sydenham's warning and 
 advice to those who purpose giving themselves to the 
 work of medicine the four things he would have 
 them to weigh well, the two admirable academic 
 sermons of Gaubius, De Regimine Mentis quod Medi- 
 corum est Gregory on the Duties of a Physician 
 Dr. Denman's Life, by his son, the Lord Chief-Justice, 
 and Dr. Gooch's not Dr. Hope's, for reasons we 
 might, but do not, give Dr. Baillie's character, per- 
 sonal and professional Dr. Abercrombie's, and the 
 books we have put at the end of this paper. 
 
 Dr. Percival's Ethics is a classical book, in its best 
 sense ; sensible, sound, temperate, clear thoughts,
 
 Excursus Ethicus. 3 7 1 
 
 conveyed in natural, clear, persuasive language. Its 
 title is somewhat of a blunder, at first it was Medical 
 Jurisprudence and Ethics means at once more and 
 less than what it is made by him to represent. 
 The Duties of a Physician would have been less 
 pedantic, and more correct and homely. There is a 
 good deal of the stiffness of the old school about the 
 doctor ; he speaks in knee-breeches and buckles, 
 with a powdered wig, and an interminable silk 
 waist-coat, a gold-headed cane at his side, and his 
 cocked hat under his arm. To us, however, this is 
 a great charm of the book, and of such books. There 
 may be stiffness and some Johnsonian swell about 
 them ; some words bigger than the thoughts, like a 
 boy in his father's coat ; some sentences in which 
 the meaning ends sooner than its voice, and the 
 rummel resounds after having parted company with 
 the gumption; but with all this, there is a temperance, 
 and soundness, and dignity of view a good breed- 
 ing, and good feeling, a reticence and composure, 
 which, in this somewhat vapouring, turbulent, unman- 
 nerly age of ours, is a refreshing pleasure, though too 
 often one of memory. 
 
 We are truly glad to see, from a modest note by 
 Dr. Greenhill, the editor, that he is engaged on a 
 work on medical morals. He will do it well and 
 wisely, we have no doubt. The profession is deeply 
 indebted to him for his edition of Sydenham the
 
 372 Excursus Etkiciis. 
 
 best monument the Society called by his name could 
 raise to that great man ; and also for his Life of 
 Hippocrates, in Smith's Dictionary, besides other 
 contributions to medical philosophy and biography. 
 
 We have placed Fuller's Holy and Profane State 
 on our list, specially on account of its chapters on 
 ' The Good Physician,' ' The Life of Paracelsus,' the 
 ' True Gentleman,' and the ' Degenerous,' and like- 
 wise that we might tempt our readers to enjoy the 
 whole of this delightful little book, and as much else 
 of its author as they can get hold of. They will 
 thank us for this, if they do not already know him, 
 and they will excuse us, if they do. Dr. Fuller is 
 a man who, like Dr. South and Sidney Smith, is so 
 intensely witty, that we forget, or do not notice, that 
 he is not less eminently wise ; and that his wit is the 
 laughing blossom of wisdom. Here are some of his 
 sententiolcE vibrantes : ' The Good Physician hansels 
 not his new experiments on the bodies of his patients, 
 letting loose mad recipes into the sick man's body, to 
 try how they and nature will fight it out, while he 
 stands by and enjoys the battle, except in desperate 
 cases, when death must be expelled by death. Lest 
 his apothecary should oversee, he oversees his apothe- 
 cary. He trusteth not the single witness of the 
 water, if better testimony may be had. For reasons 
 drawn from the urine alone are as brittle as the 
 urinal. He brings not news, with a false spy, that
 
 Excursus Ethicus. 373 
 
 the coast is clear, till death surprises the sick man. 
 I know physicians love to make the best of their 
 patient's estate ; first, say they, it is improper that ad- 
 jutores vita should be nunrii mortis ; secondly, none 
 with their goodwill will tell bad news ; thirdly, their 
 fee may be the worse for it ; fourthly, it is confessing 
 their art beaten ; fifthly, it will poison their patient's 
 heart with grief. So far well ; but they may so order 
 it, that the party may be informed wisely, and not 
 outed of this world before he is provided for another.' 
 
 We give the last sentence of his Life of Para- 
 celsus (Philippus Aureolus Theophrastus Paracelsus 
 Bombast, ab Hohenheim), that renowned and ill- 
 understood medley of evil and good, darkness and 
 light, quackery and skill: 'In a word, he boasted 
 of more than he could do ; did more cures seemingly 
 than really, more cures really than lawfully ; of more 
 parts than learning, of more fame than parts ; a 
 better physician than a man, a better chirurgeon 
 than physician.' 
 
 Here are the chief points of the ' degenerous 
 gentleman,' they are like mottos to the chapters on 
 the physiology of the noble rake in all ages : ' He 
 goes to school to learn in jest, and play in earnest. 
 His brother's serving-men, which he counts no mean 
 preferment, admit him into their society ; coming to 
 the university, his study is to study nothing ; at the 
 inns of court, pretending to learn law, he learns to
 
 3/4 Excursus Ethicus. 
 
 be lawless, and grows acquainted with the " roaring 
 boys" Through the mediation of a scrivener, he is 
 introduced to some great usurer,' etc. etc. 
 
 Sir Thomas Browne's Religio Medici, though full 
 of true morality, of subtle and profound thought, 
 and most pathetic touches, as well as of his own 
 peculiar, grave, antique humour, and quaint expres- 
 sion as odd often as the root of an orchis, and, in its 
 expression, as richly emblazoned with colours, as 
 whimsically gibbous as its flower has less to do 
 with our immediate subject than his Christian 
 Morals, which are well worth the perusing. Here is 
 a sample : ' Live up to the dignity of thy nature ; 
 pursue virtue virtuously : desert not thy title to a 
 Divine particle have a glimpse of incomprehen- 
 sibles, and thoughts of things that thoughts but 
 tenderly touch. Lodge immaterials in thy head, 
 ascend until invisibles fill thy spirit with spirituals, 
 with the mysteries of faith, the magnalities of religion, 
 and thy life with the honour of God.' 
 
 This is good wholesome advice at any time, and 
 not the least so now, when sensible things are cross- 
 questioning us more keenly and urgently than ever, 
 when matter is disclosing fresh wonders every day, 
 and telling her secrets in crowds ; and, when we are 
 too apt to be absorbed in her to forget that there 
 is something else than this earth that there is more 
 than meets the eye and the ear that seeing is not be-
 
 Excursus Ethicus, 375 
 
 lieving, and that it is pleasant, refreshing, and whole- 
 some, after the hurry and heat and din of the day, 
 its flaring lights and its eager work, to cool the eye 
 and the mind, and rest them on the silent and clear 
 darkness of night ' sowed with stars thick as a 
 field.' Let us keep everything worth keeping, and 
 add, not substitute ; do not let us lose ourselves in 
 seeking for our basic radical, or our primary cell ; 
 let us remember that the analytic spirit of the age 
 may kill as well as instruct, may do harm as well as 
 good ; that while it quickens the pulse, strengthens 
 the eye and the arm, and adds cunning to the fingers, 
 it may, if carried to excess, confuse the vision, stupify 
 and madden the brain ; and, instead of directing, 
 derange and destroy. 
 
 We have no book in our language to compare 
 with Simon's Deontologie Medicale, for largeness of 
 view, and earnestness and power of treatment ; it is 
 admirable in substance and in form, and goes through 
 the whole duty of the physician with great intelli- 
 gence, liveliness, and tact. It has what all first- 
 rate French writers have the charm of definite 
 ideas and definite expression, the ' maniere incisive ' 
 which we so much want. Had we room, we would 
 gladly have quoted his remarks on style its nature 
 and its value to the physician ; he himself exemplifies 
 what he teaches.
 
 376 Excursus Ethicus. 
 
 On this subject, we would direct attention like- 
 wise to the able and clever article in the British and 
 Foreign Review.* We cannot help quoting Buffon's 
 words ; they illustrate themselves. They are from 
 his Remarques sur le Style: ' Les ouvrages bien 
 Merits sont les seuls qui passeront a la posterite, la 
 quantitd des connaissances, la singularite cles faits, la 
 nouveaute' meme des decouvertes, ne sont pas de 
 stars garants de I'immortalite ; si les ouvrages qui les 
 contiennent ne roulent que sur de petits objets, s'ils 
 sont dents sans gout, noblesse, et sans genie, ils 
 pe'riront parce les connaissances, les faits, les de- 
 couvertes s'enlevent aisement, se transportent, gag- 
 nent meme a etre mises en ceuvre par des mains plus 
 habiles. Les chases sont hors de Fhomme, le style c'est 
 Fhomme meme. 1 Apples of gold are best set in 
 pictures of silver great thoughts and natural 
 thoughts should be greatly and naturally said : they 
 
 1 On a very different, but by no means inconsiderable subject, 
 we quote this cordial and wise passage from the same article. 
 Speaking of the odium medicum, ' the true remedy for profes- 
 sional jealousies is frequent intercommunication, a good dinner 
 at the Royal would heal the professional feuds of a large town. 
 The man of science who thinks he practises his profession for the 
 sheer love of it, may smile at the sensualness of the means, and 
 it may not be the remedy he requires ; but most practitioners 
 are men of the m&ier, and like a dinner of the craft as well as 
 others. We wish there were a medical guild in every large 
 town, with an ample dinner fund good fellowship would in- 
 crease and abound, and with it unity of purpose, honour, public 
 and personal esteem. '
 
 Excursus Ethicus. 377 
 
 are indeed neither, if not. Lord Jeffrey said to a 
 young friend of great genius, but addicted to long 
 and odd words, and to coining a word now and then, 
 ' My friend, when you have a common thing to say, 
 say it in a common way, and when you have an 
 uncommon thing, it will find its own way of saying 
 itself.' Let no one despise style. If thought is the 
 gold, style is the stamp which makes it current, and 
 says under what king it was issued. There is much 
 in what Buffon says Style is the man himself. Try 
 to put Horace, or Tacitus, Milton, Addison, or 
 Goldsmith, Charles Lamb, or Thackeray, into other 
 words, and you mar, and likely kill the thought 
 they cease to be themselves. 
 
 But how am I to get a good style? Not by 
 imitating or mimicking any one. Not by trying to 
 think or to write like any one, but to think and write 
 with him. It is with style as with manners and 
 good-breeding. Keep good company, and do your 
 best, and you will write and speak and act like 
 a gentleman, because you think and feel and live 
 with gentlemen. If you would write like the ancient 
 masters, read them and relish them be their son, 
 not their ape. Our medical writers now-a-days, 
 with a few signal exceptions, write ill. They are 
 slovenly, diffuse, often obscure, and curiously in- 
 volved. The reasons are : first, the enormous 
 amount of merely professional knowledge a man
 
 378 Excursus Ethicus. 
 
 is expected to master before he writes on any sub- 
 ject, and the absorbing nature of the new methods ; 
 secondly, and as a consequence, the ignorance of 
 general literature, and the much less association by 
 men of medicine with men of letters, now than in 
 olden times. Arbuthnot was not the worse physician, 
 and all the better writer, from his being the com- 
 panion of those famous wits whose good genius and 
 doctor he was ; and his Treatises on Airs and Aliments 
 are all the better of being the work of a man who 
 took his share in Martinus Scriblerus, and wrote the 
 History of John Bull. 
 
 Currie, 1 Aikin, Gregory, Heberden, Cullen, Fer- 
 riar, Gooch, are all the more powerful, and all 
 the more permanent as medical authorities, from 
 their having learned, by practice and by example, to 
 write forcibly, clearly, compactly, and with dignity 
 and grace. 
 
 The turbid, careless style, constipated, or the 
 
 i Do our young readers know Currie's Life by his son? if 
 not, let them get it. They will see one of the noblest, purest 
 intellects our profession has ever had, ardently humane, grave 
 and energetic, tinged with a secret, pensive melancholy, and 
 they will find much of the best knowledge and advice for their 
 conduct in life. His letters to his son when a student at Edin- 
 burgh College, may be read alongside of Collingwood's from 
 his ship to his daughters, and his Jasper Wilson' 1 ! Letter to Mr. 
 Pitt is one sustained burst of eloquent and earnest patriotism, of 
 sound political philosophy, and strong sense ; it was flung off 
 at a heat, and was his only appearance in public affairs.
 
 Excursiis Ethicus. 379 
 
 reverse, by which much of our medical literature is 
 characterized, is a disgrace to our age, and to the 
 intelligence, good taste, and good breeding of our 
 profession, and mars inconceivably the good that 
 lies concealed and bungled within it. No man has 
 a right to speak without some measure of preparation, 
 orderliness, and selectness. As Butler says, ' Confu- 
 sion and perplexity of writing is indeedwithout excuse, 
 because any one, if he pleases, may know whether 
 he understands and sees through what he is about : 
 and it is unpardonable for a man to lay his thoughts 
 before others, when he is conscious that he himself 
 does not know whereabouts he is, or how the matter 
 before him stands. // is coming abroad in disorder, 
 which he ought to be ashamed to find himself in at 
 home! Whately, in reply to a youth who asked him 
 how to write clearly, answered, ' Think clearly.' This 
 is the secret. 
 
 We might, had space permitted, have gone more 
 particularly into the higher moralities of physicians, 
 and into some of the more miscellaneous conditions 
 which interpenetrate morals, manners, and etiquette ; 
 for etiquette, with all its littlenesses and niceties, is 
 founded upon a central idea of right and wrong ; 
 and on the Tightness or wrongness of that idea, 
 depends the true significance and worth of the 
 merest punctilio. 
 
 We might likewise have said some few things en
 
 380 Excursus Ethicus. 
 
 the public and professional religion of a doctor, and 
 its relation to his personal ; and something, also, of 
 that religiosity which, besides its ancient endemic 
 force, as old as our race, is at present dangerously 
 epidemic a pseudo-activity, which is not only not 
 good, but virulently bad, being at once as like and 
 as opposite to the true, as hemlock is to parsley. 
 
 We are anxious to persuade our young friends, 
 who, having 'passed,' and settled down, are waiting 
 for practice, not merely to busy themselves for the 
 next seven or eight barren years, in their own imme- 
 diate circle we are sure they will not suspect us of 
 wishing them to keep from what is their highest duty 
 and greatest pleasure but to persuade them, when 
 they have some leisure, and long evenings, and few 
 ' cases,' to read the works of such men as Berkeley, 
 Butler, Paley, Baxter, Tucker, Barrow, Locke, Prin- 
 cipal Campbell, Reid, Dugald Stewart, Mackintosh, 
 Whately, Alexander Knox, etc. ; to keep up their 
 classical knowledge, and go over Horace's Art of 
 Poetry, Cicero's Epistles and Philosophical Treatises, 
 Seneca, Epictetus, Marc Antonine, Quintilian, and 
 such like not to mention a more sacred book, which 
 they ought to read all their lives, and use every day, 
 as the perfect rule of duty, the lamp to their feet, the 
 light to their eyes. 
 
 We may be thought to be making too much of 
 these things. It would be difficult to do so, when
 
 Excursus Ethicus. 38 1 
 
 we consider what we, as physicians, are supposed to 
 possess practising, as we do, not merely one of the 
 arts of life, making an honourable living and enabling 
 our fellow-men to do the same but constantly 
 watching at that awful janua vitce et mortis, our main 
 duty being to keep men alive. Let us remember 
 what is involved in the enjoyment and in the loss of 
 life that perilous and inestimable something, which 
 we all know how much we ourselves prize, and for 
 which, as we have the word, long ago, of a person- 
 age 1 more distinguished for his talents than his 
 virtues, uttered in a Presence where even he dared 
 not tell a lie direct, that ' all that a man hath he will 
 give,' so let it be our endeavour, as its conservators, 
 to give all that we have, our knowledge, our affec- 
 tions, our energies, our virtue (aperr/, vir-tus, the very 
 essence or pith of a man), in doing our best to make 
 our patients healthy, long-lived, and happy. 
 
 We conclude with two quotations, the first from 
 the mouth of one 2 of the best men of our profession 
 one of the greatest of public benefactors one of 
 the truest and most genial of friends and of whose 
 merits we would say more, were he not still, to our 
 great comfort, in the midst of us, for we agree with 
 the ancients in this, as in some other things, that it 
 is not becoming to sacrifice to our heroes //// after 
 
 i Job ii. 4 . 
 
 a Dr. Henry Marshall, who died soon after this was \vrittea.
 
 382 Excursus Etkicus. 
 
 sunset : ' My religion consists mainly of wonder and 
 gratitude' This is the religion of paradise and of 
 childhood. It will not be easy to find a better, even 
 in our enlightened days ;' only it must be a rational 
 wonder, a productive gratitude the gratitude, that 
 of a man who does not rest contented with the emo- 
 tion, but goes at once into the motive, and that a 
 motive which really moves and the wonder, that of 
 a man who, in reverencing God, knows him, and in 
 honouring all men, respects himself. 
 
 The next is the admonition we have already 
 referred to, by Sydenham. Our readers will find, at 
 its close, the oldest and best kind of homoeopathy a 
 kind which will survive disease and the doctors, and 
 will never, as may be said of the other, cure nothing 
 but itself. 
 
 ' He who gives himself to the study and work of 
 medicine ought seriously to ponder these four things 
 ist, That he must, one day, give an account to the 
 Supreme Judge of the lives of the sick committed to 
 his care, zdly, That whatsoever of art, or of science, 
 he has by the Divine goodness attained, is to be 
 directed mainly to the glory of the Almighty, and the 
 safety of mankind, and that it is a dishonour to him- 
 self and them, to make these celestial gifts subser- 
 vient to the vile lusts of avarice and ambition. 
 Moreover, ^dly, that he has undertaken the charge 
 of no mean or ignoble creature, and that in order to
 
 Excursus Ethicus. 383 
 
 his appreciating the true worth of the human race, 
 he should not forget that the only-begotten Son of 
 God became a man, and thus far ennobled, by his 
 own dignity, the nature he assumed. And, lastly, 
 that as he is himself not exempted from the common 
 lot, and is liable and exposed to the same laws of 
 mortality, the same miseries and pains, as are all the 
 rest ; so he may endeavour the more diligently, and 
 with a more tender affection, as being himself a 
 fellow-sufferer (6/ioio7ra^s), to help them who are 
 sick.' 
 
 For to take a higher, the highest example, we 
 must 'be touched with a feeling of the infirmities' of 
 our patients, else all our skill and knowledge will go 
 but half-way to relieve or cure. 
 
 BOOKS REFERRED TO. 
 
 I. Percival's Medical Ethics; new edition, with Notes, by 
 Dr. Greenhill. 2. Code of Medical Ethics; by the American 
 Medical Association. 3. Richard Baxter's Compassionate 
 Counsel to Students of Physic. 4. Sir Thomas Browne's Re 
 ligio Medici, and Christian Morals. 5. Gaubius de Regimine 
 Mentis quod Medicorum est. 6. Fuller's 'Good Physician,' 
 and ' Life of Paracelsus, ' in his ' Holy and Profane State.' 
 7. Simon, Deontologie Medicale, ou des Devoirs et des Droits 
 de Meclecins. 8. Gisborne, Gregory, and Ware, on the Duties 
 of a Physician. 9. Hufeland on the Relations of the Physician 
 to the Sick, to the Public, and to his Colleagues. 10. British 
 and Foreign Medical Journal for April 1846, Art. IX. n. Dr. 
 Aikin's Letters to his Son on the Choice of a Profession and 
 the Conduct of Life.
 
 PRINCES STREET, 
 Edinburgh. 
 
 EDMONSTON & DOUGLAS' 
 LIST OF WORKS 
 
 A Short American Tramp in the fall of 1864. 
 
 By the Editor of 'Life in Normandy.' 8vo, price 12s. 
 
 Memoir of Lieutenant-General Sir Ralph Abercromby, K.B., 
 
 1793-1801. By his Son JAMES LORD DUNFERMLINE. 8vo, price 10s. 6d. 
 
 Essays and Tracts: 
 
 The Culture and Discipline of the Mind, and other Essays. By JOHN ABER- 
 CROMB1E, M.D., Late First Physician to the Queen for Scotland. New Edition. 
 Fcap. 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. 
 
 The Malformations, Diseases, and Injuries of the Fingers 
 
 and Toes, and their Surgical Treatment. By THOMAS ANNANDALE, F.E.C.S., 
 Assistant Surgeon, Royal Infirmary, Edinburgh. The Jacksonian Prize for the 
 Year 1864. 1 vol., 8vo, with Illustrations, price 10s. 6d. 
 
 A Few "Words on Clerical Subscription in the Church of 
 
 England. Reprinted with Alterations and Additions from the 'North British 
 Review.' By VISCOUNT AMBERLEY. 8vo, price Is. (3d. 
 
 Odal Rights and Feudal Wrongs : 
 
 A Memorial for Orkney. By DAVID BALFOUR of Balfour and Trenaby. 8vo, 
 price 6s. 
 
 Basil St. John. 
 
 An Autumn Tale. 1 vol. 8vo, price 12s. 
 
 Bible Readings. 
 
 12ino, cloth, 2s. 
 
 By the Loch and River Side. 
 
 Forty Graphic Illustrations by a New Hand. Oblong folio, handsomely bound, 21s. 
 
 Aunt Ailie. 
 
 Second Edition. By CATHARINE D. BELL, Author of ' Cousin Kate's Story, 
 ' Margaret Cecil,' etc. Fcap. 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d.
 
 EDMONSTON AND DOUGLAS, 
 
 The Diary of Three Children ; 
 
 Or, Fifty-two Saturdays. Edited by CATHARINE D. BELL. Fcap. 8vo, 5s. 
 
 Now or Never, 
 
 A Novel. By M. BETHAM EDWARDS, Author of ' The White House by the Sea.' 
 Crown 8vo, 10s. 6d. 
 
 Charlie and Ernest ; or, Play and "Work. 
 
 A Story of Hazlehurst School, with Four Illustrations by J. D. By M. BETHAM 
 EDWARDS. Royal Itimo, 3s. 6d. 
 
 British Birds drawn from Nature. 
 
 By MRS. BLACKBURN. (J. B.) Folio, price 10s. 6d. India Proofs, 21s. 
 
 Homer and the Iliad. 
 
 In three Parts. By JOHN STUART BLACKIE, Professor of Greek in the Uni- 
 versity of Edinburgh. In 3 vols. 8vo. 
 
 PART I. HOMERIC DISSERTATIONS. 
 
 II. THE ILIAD IN ENGLISH VERSE. 
 III. COMMENTARY, PHILOLOGICAL AND ARCHAEOLOGICAL. 
 
 On Beauty. 
 
 Three Discourses delivered in the University of Edinburgh, with an Exposition of 
 the Doctrine of the Beautiful according to Plato. By J. S. BLACKIE, Professor 
 of Greek in the University, and of Ancient Literature to the Royal Scottish 
 Academy, Edinburgh. Crown Svo, cloth, 8s. (3d. 
 
 Lyrical Poems. 
 
 By J. 8. BLACKIE. Crown Svo, cloth, 7s. 6d. 
 
 On Greek Pronunciation. 
 
 By J, a BLACKIE. Demy Svo, 3s. 6i 
 
 Memoirs of the Life, Writings, and Discoveries of Sir Isaac 
 
 Newton. By SIR DAVID BREWSTER, K.H., A.M., LL.D., D.C.L., F.R.S., etc., 
 etc. With Portraits. New and Cheaper Edition, 2 vols., fcap. Svo, cloth, 12s. 
 
 "Works by Margaret Maria Gordon (nee Brewster). 
 
 LADY ELINOR MORDAUNT ; or, Sunbeams in the Castle. Crown Svo, cloth, 9s. 
 
 LETTERS FROM CANNES AMD NICE, Illustrated by a Lady. 8vo, cloth, 12s. 
 
 WORK ; or, Plenty to do and How to do it. Thirty-third thousand. Fcap. Svo, 
 cloth, 2s. 6d. 
 
 LITTLE MILLIE AND HER FOUR PLACES. Cheap Edition. Forty-sixth thousand. 
 Limp cloth, Is. 
 
 SUNBEAMS IN THE COTTAGE ; or, What Women may do. A narrative chiefly ad- 
 dressed to the Working Classes. Cheap Edition. Thirty-ninth thousand. Limp 
 cloth, is. 
 
 PREVENTION ; or, An Appeal to Economy and Common Sense. Svo, 6d. 
 THE WORD AND THE WORLD. Price 2d. 
 
 LEAVES OF HEALING FOR THE SICK AND SORROWFUL. Fcap. 4to, cloth, 3s. 6d. 
 Cheap Edition, limp cloth, 2s. 
 
 THE MOTHERLESS BOY ; with an Illustration by J. NOEL PATON. R.S.A. Cheap 
 Edition, limp cloth, Is.
 
 88 PRINCES STREET, EDINBURGH. 
 
 Memoirs of John Brown, D.D. 
 
 By the Rev. J. CAIRNS, D.D., Berwick, with Supplementary Chapter by his Son, 
 JOHN BROWN, M.D. Fcap. 8vo, cloth, 9s. 6d. 
 
 "Works by John Brown, M.D., F.R.S.E. 
 
 LOCKE AND SYDENHAM, with other Professional Papers. By JOHN BROWN, M.D. 
 
 A New Edition in 1 vol. In the Press. 
 
 HOBJE SUBSECIV.<E. Fifth Edition, in 1 vol. fcap. Svo, price 6s. 
 LETTER TO THE REV. JOHN CAIRNS, D.D. Second Edition, crown Svo, sewed, 2s. 
 ARTHUR H. HALLAM ; Extracted from ' Horse Subsecivse.' Fcap. sewed, 2s. ; cloth, 
 
 2s. 6d. 
 RAB AND HIS FRIENDS ; Extracted from ' Horae Subseciva.' Forty-fourth thousand. 
 
 Fcap. sewed, 6d. 
 MARJORIE FLEMING : A Sketch. Fifteenth thousand. Fcap. sewed, Cd. 
 
 OUR DOGS ; Extracted from ' Horse Subsecivse.' Seventeenth thousand. Fcap. 
 
 sewed, 6d. 
 RAB AND HIS FRIENDS. With Illustrations by George Harvey, R.S.A., J. Noel 
 
 Paton, R.S. A., and J. B. New Edition, small quarto, cloth, price 3s. 6d. 
 " WITH BRAINS, SIR ; " Extracted from ' Horse Subsecivse. ' Fcap. sewed, 6d. 
 MINCHMOOR. Fcap. sewed, 6d. 
 JEEMS THE DOORKEEPER : A Lay Sermon. Price fid. 
 THE ENTERKIN. Price Cd. 
 
 Lectures on the Atomic Theory, and Essays, 
 
 Scientific and Literary. By SAMUEL BROWN. 2 vols., crown Svo, cloth, 15s. 
 
 The Biography of Samson. 
 
 Illustrated and Applied. By the REV. JOHN BRUCE, D.D., Minister of Free St 
 Andrew's Church, Edinburgh. Second Edition. ISmo, cloth, 2s. 
 
 My Indian Journal, 
 
 Containing descriptions of the principal Field Sports of India, with Notes on the 
 Natural History and Habits of the Wild Animals of the Country a visit to the 
 Neilgherry Hills, and the Andaman and Nicobar Islands. By COLONEL WALTER 
 CAMPBELL, author of ' The Old Forest Ranger.' Svo, with Illustrations, price 10s. 
 
 Popular Tales of the West Highlands, 
 
 Orally Collected, with a translation by J. F. CAMPBELL. 4 vols., extra fcap., 
 cloth, 32s. 
 
 Book-keeping, 
 
 Adapted to Commercial and Judicial Accounting, giving- Systems of Book-keeping, 
 for Lawyers, Factors and Curators, Wholesale and Hetail Traders, Newspapers, 
 Insurance Offices, and Private House-keeping, etc. By F. H. CARTER, C.A. Svo, 
 cloth, price 10s. 
 
 Characteristics of Old Church Architecture, etc., 
 
 In the Mainland and Western Islands of Scotland. 4to, with Illustrations, price 25s. 
 
 Ballads from Scottish History. 
 By NORVAL CLYNE. Fcap. Svo, price 6s.
 
 EDMONSTON AND DOUGLAS, 
 
 Life and "Works of Rev. Thomas Chalmers, D.D., LL.D. 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE REV. THOMAS CHALMERS. By Rev. W. Hanna, D.D., LL.D. 4 
 vols., 8vo, cloth, 2: 2s. 
 
 Cheap Edition, 2 vols., crown Svo, cloth, 12s. 
 
 A SELECTION PROM THE CORRESPONDENCE OF DR. CHALMERS, uniform with the 
 
 Memoirs. Crown Svo, cloth, 10s. 6d. 
 POSTHUMOUS WORKS, 9 vols., Svo 
 
 Daily Scripture Readings. 3 vols., 1 : 11 : 6. Sabbath Scripture Readings, 2 
 vols., 1 : Is. Sermons, 1 vol., 10s. 6d. Institutes of Theology, 2 vols., 
 1 : Is. -Prelections on Butler's Analog}', etc., 1 vol., 10s. 6d. 
 Sabbath Scripture Readings. Cheap Edition, 2 vols., crown Svo, 10s. 
 Daily Scripture Readings. Cheap Edition, 2 vols., crown Svo, 10s. 
 ASTRONOMICAL DISCOURSES. Cheap Edition, limp, Is. 
 COMMERCIAL DISCOURSES. Cheap Edition, limp, Is. 
 LECTURES ON THE ROMANS. 2 vols., crown Svo, 12s. 
 INSTITUTES OF THEOLOGY, 2 vols., crown Svo, 12s. POLITICAL ECONOMY, Crown 
 
 Svo, 6s. 
 SELECT WORKS, in 12 vols., crown Svo, cloth, per vol., 6s. 
 
 Lectures on the Romans, 2 vols. Sermons, 2 vo^. Natural Theology, Lectures 
 on Butler's Analogy, etc., 1 vol. Christian Evidences, Lectures on Paley's 
 Evidences, etc., 1 vol. Institutes of Theology, 2 vols. Political Economy: 
 with Cognate Essays, 1 vol. Polity of a Nation, 1 vol. Church and College 
 Establishments, 1 vol. Moral Philosophy, Introductory Essays, Index, etc., 
 1 vol. 
 
 " Christopher N"orth ;" 
 
 A Memoir of John Wilson, late Professor of Moral Philosophy in the University of 
 Edinburgh. Compiled from Family Papers and other sources, by his (laughter, 
 MRS. GORDON. Third Thousand. In 2 vols., crown Svo, price '24s., with Por- 
 trait, and graphic Illustrations. 
 
 Chronicle of Gudrun ; 
 
 A Story of the North Sea. From the medieval German. By EMMA LETHER- 
 BROW. With frontispiece by J. NOEL PATON, R.S.A. New Edition for Young 
 People, price 5s. 
 
 Of the Light of Nature, 
 
 A Discourse by NATHANIEL CULVERWELL, M.A. Edited by JOHN BROWN, 
 D.D., with a critical Essay on the Discourse by John Cairns, D.D. Svo, cloth, 12s. 
 
 Dainty Dishes. 
 
 Receipts collected by LADY HARRIET ST. CLAIR. 1 vol. crown Svo. 
 The Annals of the University of Edinburgh. 
 
 By ANDREW DALZEL, formerly Professor of Greek in the University of Edin- 
 burgh ; with a Memoir of the Compiler, and Portrait after Raeburn. In 2 vols. 
 demy Svo, price 21s. 
 
 Gisli the Outlaw. 
 
 From the Icelandic. By G. W. DASENT, D.C.L. 1 vol., small 4to, with Illustra- 
 tions, price 7s. 6d.
 
 88 PRINCES STREET^ EDINBURGH. 
 
 The Story of Burnt INjal ; 
 
 Or, Life in Iceland at the end of the Tenth Century. From the Icelandic of the 
 Njals Saga. By GEORGE WEBBE DASENT, D.C.L. In 2 vols. Svo, with Maps 
 and Plans, price 28s. 
 
 Popular Tales from the Norse, 
 
 With an Introductory Essay on the origin and diffusion of Popular Tales. Second 
 Edition, enlarged. By GEORGE WEBBE DASENT, D.C.L. Crown Svo, 10s. 6d. 
 
 Select Popular Tales from the Worse. 
 
 For the use of Young Pe 
 Illustrations. Crown Svo 
 
 For the use of Young People. By G. W. DASENT, D.C.L. Ne\ 
 
 " i, 6s. 
 
 The Fifty Years' Struggle of the Scottish Covenanters, 
 
 163S-8S. By JAMES DODDS. Third Edition, fcap., cloth, 5s. 
 
 From London to Nice. 
 
 A Journey through France, and Winter in the Sunny South. By REV. W. B. 
 D UNBAR, of Glencairn. 12mo, cloth, price 3s. 
 
 Social Life in Former Days ; 
 
 Chiefly in the Province of Moray. Illustrated by letters and family papers. By 
 E. DUNBAR DUNBAR, late Captain 21st Fusiliers. 1 vol., demy Svo, price 12s. 
 
 Veterinary Medicines ; their Actions and Uses. 
 
 By FINLAY DUN. Third Edition, revised and enlarged. Svo, price 12s. 
 
 The Ferry Hills, 
 
 A Poem in Three Cantos. 12mo, price 2s. 6d. 
 
 Forest Sketches. 
 
 Deer-stalking and other Sports in the Highlands fifty years ago. Svo, with Illus- 
 trations by Gourlay Steell, price 15s. 
 
 L'Histoire d'Angleterre. parM. LAME FLEURY. ismo, cloth, 2s. 6d. 
 L'Histoire de France. Par M. LAME FLEURY. ismo, cloth, 2s. 6d. 
 Christianity viewed in some of its Leading Aspects. 
 
 By REV. A. L. R. FOOTE, Author of ' Incidents in the Life of our Saviour.' Fcap., 
 cloth, 3s. 
 
 Frost and Fire ; 
 
 Natural Engines, Tool-Marks, and Chips, with Sketches drawn at Home and Abroad 
 by a Traveller. In 2 vols. Svo, with Maps and numerous Illustrations on Wood, 
 price 42s. 
 
 Fragments of Truth, 
 
 Being the Exposition of several passages of Scripture. Third Edition. Fcap. Svo, 
 cloth, price 5s. 
 
 Clinical Medicine. 
 
 Observations recorded at the Bedside, with Commentaries. By W. T. GAIRDNER, 
 M.D., Professor of the Practice of Physic in the University of Glasgow. Svo, 742 
 pp., with numerous Engravings on wood, 12s. 6d.
 
 EDMONSTON AND DOUGLAS, 
 
 Medicine and Medical Education. 
 
 Three Lectures, with Notes and Appendix. By W. T. GAIRDNER, M.D., Profes- 
 sor of the Practice of Physic in the University of Glasgow. 12mo, cloth, price 
 2s. 6d 
 
 Clinical and Pathological Notes on Pericarditis. 
 
 By W. T. GAIRDNER, M.D., Professor of the Practice of Physic in the University 
 of Glasgow. Svo, sewed, price Is. 
 
 The Giants, the Knights, and the Princess Verbena. 
 
 A Fairy Story, with Illustrations by HUNKIL PHRANC. 4to, boards, 2s. 6d. 
 An Ecclesiastical History of Scotland, 
 
 Prom the Introduction of Christianity to the Present Time. By GEORGE GRUB, 
 A.M. In 4 vols. Svo, 42s. Fine Paper Copies, 52s. 6d. 
 
 The Earlier Years of our Lord's Life on Earth. 
 
 By the REV. WILLIAM HANNA, D.D., LL.D. Extra fcap. Svo, price 5s. 
 The Last Day of our Lord's Passion. 
 
 By the REV. WILLIAM HANNA, D.D., LL.D. Fifteenth Edition, extra fcap. 
 
 Svo, price 5s. 
 
 The Forty Days after our Lord's Resurrection. 
 
 By the REV. WILLIAM HANNA, D.D., LL.D. Extra fcap. Svo, price us. 
 The Healing Art, the Right Hand of the Church ; 
 
 Or, Practical Medicine an Essential Element in the Christian System. Crown Svo, 
 cloth, price 5s. 
 
 Hidden Depths. 
 
 2 vols., crown Svo, price 21s. 
 
 "This book is not a work of fiction, in the ordinary acceptation of the term : if 
 it were, it would be worse than useless, for the hidden depths, of which it reveals 
 a glimpse, are not fit subjects for a romance." Preface. 
 
 Notes of a Cruise of H.M.S. 'Fawn' 
 
 In the Western Pacific in the year 1S62. By T. H. HOOD. Demy Svo, with 
 numerous Illustrations from Photographs, price 15s. 
 
 Homely Hints from the Fireside. 
 
 By the author of ' Little Things.' Cheap Edition, limp cloth, Is. 
 A Century of Despotism in Naples and Sicily, 1759-1859. 
 
 By Miss SUSAN HORNER, translator of ' Colletas Naples.' Fcap., cloth, 2s. 6d. 
 Prometheus the Fire-bringer. 
 
 By RICHARD HENRY T. HORNE, Author of ' Orion,' &c. &c. Crown Svo, price 
 
 2s. 6d., with Portrait. 
 
 Herminius. 
 
 A Romance. By I. E. 8. In 1 vol. fcap. Svo, price 6s 
 
 Sketches of Early Scotch History. 
 
 By COSMO INNES, F.S. A., Professor of History in the University of Edinburgh. 
 1. The Church ; its Old Organisation, Parochial and Monastic. 2. Universities. 
 3. Family History. 8. vo, price 16s.
 
 88 PRINCES STREET, EDINBURGH. 
 
 Concerning some Scotch Surnames. 
 
 By COSMO INNES, F.S. A., Professor of History in the University of Edinburgh. 
 1 vol., small 4 to, cloth antique, 5s. 
 
 Death Scenes of Scottish Martyrs. 
 
 By HENRY INGLIS. Square 12mo, cloth, price 6s. 
 
 Instructive Picture Books. 
 
 Folio, 7s. 6d. each. 
 
 The Instructive Picture Book. A few Attractive Lessons from the Natural 
 History of Animals. By ADAM WHITE, Assistant . /..,, logical Department, British 
 Museum. With 58 folio coloured Plates. Fifth Edition, containing many new 
 Illustrations by J. B., J. STEWART, and others. 
 
 II. 
 
 The Instructive Picture Book. Lessons from the Vegetable World. By the 
 Author of ' The Heir of Redclyfte,' ' The Herb of the Field,' etc. Arranged by 
 ROBERT M. STARK, Edinburgh. New Edition, with many New Plates. 
 
 The K"ew Picture Book. 
 
 Pictorial Lessons on Form, Comparison, and Number, for Children under Seven 
 Years of Age. With Explanations by NICHOLAS BOHNY. 36 oblong folio 
 coloured Illustrations. Price 7s. 6d. 
 
 The History of Scottish Poetry, 
 
 From the Middle Ages to the Close of the Seventeenth Century. By the late 
 DAVID IRVING, LL.D. Edited by JOHN AITKEN CARLYLE, M.D. With a Memoir 
 and Glossary. Demy 8vo, 16s. 
 
 The Circle of Christian Doctrine ; 
 
 A Handbook of Faith, framed out of a Layman's experience. By LORD KINLOCH, 
 one of the Judges of the Supreme Court of Scotland. Third and Cheaper Edition. 
 Fcap. 8vo, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Time's Treasure ; 
 
 Or, Devout Thoughts for every Day of the Year. Expressed in verse. By LORD 
 KINLOCH. Third and Cheaper Edition. Fcap. Svo, price 3s. 6d. 
 
 Studies for Sunday Evening. 
 
 By LORD KINLOCH. Fcap. Svo, price 4s. 6d. 
 
 An Additional Catalogue of Ancient Scottish Seals. 
 
 By HENRY LAING, Author of ' Descriptive Catalogue of Ancient Scottish Seals,' 
 1 vol. 4to. 
 
 The Reform of the Church of Scotland 
 
 In Worship, Government, and Doctrine. By ROBERT LEE, D.D., Professor of 
 Biblical Criticism in the University of Edinburgh, and Minister of Greyfriars. 
 Part I. Worship. 8vo, price 5s. 
 
 The Early Races of Scotland and their Monuments. 
 
 By LIEUT. -CoL. FORBES LESLIE. 2 vols. demy Svo, profusely Illustrated.
 
 EDMONSTON AND DOUGLAS, 
 
 Life in Normandy ; 
 
 Sketches of French Fishing, Farming, Cooking, Natural History, and Politics, 
 drawn from Nature. By an ENGLISH RESIDENT. Third Edition, 1 vol. crown 
 8vo, price 6s. 
 
 Specimens of Ancient G-aelic Poetry. 
 
 Collected between the years 1512 and 1529 by the REV. JAMES M'GREGOR, Dean 
 
 of Lismore illustrative of the Language and Literature of the Scottish Highlands 
 prior to the Sixteenth Century. Edited, with a Translation and Notes, hy the Rev. 
 THOMAS MACLAUCHLAN. The Introduction and additional Notes by WILLIAM F. 
 
 to the Sixteenth Century. Edited, with a Translation and Notes, by the R 
 JAS MACLAUCHLAN 
 SKENE. 8vo, price 12s. 
 
 Harmony of Revelation and the Sciences ; 
 
 Address Delivered to the Members of the Edinburgh Philosophical Institution, 
 Nov. 4, 1804, by the RIGHT REV. LORD BISHOP OF LONDON. 8vo, price Is. 
 
 The Case for the Crown in Re the "Wigton Martyrs proved 
 
 to be Myths versus Wodrow and Lord Macaulay, Patrick the Pedlar and Principal 
 Tulloch. By MARK NAPIER, Sheriff of Dumfriesshire. 8vo, price 2s. 
 
 Little Ella and the Fire-King, 
 
 And other Fairy Tales, by M. W., with Illustrations by HENRY WARREN. Second 
 Edition. l<5mo, cloth, 3s. 6d. Cloth extra, gilt edges, 4s. 
 
 Deborah ; 
 
 Or, Christian Principles for Domestic Servants. With Extract Readings for the 
 Fireside. By REV. NORMAN MACLEOD, D.D. 12mo, limp cloth, price Is. 
 
 Macvicar's (J. G., D.D.) 
 
 THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE BEAUTIFUL : price (is. 6d. FIRST LINES OF SCIENCE SIM- 
 PLIFIED ; price 5s. INQUIRY INTO HUMAN NATURE ; price 7s. Od. 
 
 Man's Place and Bread unique in Nature; 
 
 And his origin Human not Simian. By a University Professor. Fcap. sewed, Is. 
 
 The Correct Form of Shoes. 
 
 Why the Shoe Pinches. A contribution to Applied Anatomy. By HERMANN 
 MEYER, M.D., Professor of Anatomy in the University of 'Zurich. Translated 
 from the German by JOHN STIRLING CRAIG, L.R.C.P.E., L.R.C.S.E. Fcap., 
 sewed, <5d. 
 
 Game, Salmon, and Poachers. 
 
 By the EARL OF MINTO. Price Is. 
 
 The Herring : 
 
 Its Natural History and National Importance. By JOHN M. MITCHELL, 
 F.R.S.S.A., F.S.A.S., F.R.P.S., etc. Author of 'The Natural History of the Her- 
 ring, considered in Connection With its Visits to the Scottish Coasts,' ' British 
 Commercial Legislation,' ' Modern Athens and the Pirseus,' etc. With Six Illustra- 
 tions, 8vo, price 12s. 
 
 The Insane in Private Dwellings. 
 
 By ARTHUR MITCHELL, A.M., M.D., Deputy Commissioner in Lunacy for Scot- 
 land, etc. 8vo, price 4s. 6d. 
 
 Ancient Pillar-Stones of Scotland. 
 
 Their Significance and Bearing on Ethnology. By GEORGE MOORE, M.D. 1 vol. 
 8vo, price 6s. 6d.
 
 88 PRINCES STREET, EDINBURGH. 
 
 North British Review. 
 
 Published Quarterly. Price 6s. 
 
 " We hail the recent numbers of the North British as a sign of their advance, 
 and a proof that a true Scot is as ready as ever to cross the Tweed and to vie suc- 
 cessfully with his English competitors. It is seldom, if ever, that one sees so good 
 a series of reviews so good substantially in nearly all their articles, from the first 
 page to the last. It is sensible on all its subjects, as distinguished from literary 
 persiflage a true whistle from the oaten straw which it is ever bracing to our nerves 
 to hearken to." Times. 
 
 Biographical Annals of the Parish of Colinton. 
 
 By THOMAS MURRAY, LL.D., Author of "The Literary History of Galloway,' 
 etc., etc. Crown Svo, price 3s. 6d. 
 
 Mystifications. 
 
 By CLEMENTINA STIRLING GRAHAME. Edited by JOHN BROWN, M.D. 
 Small 4to. 5s. 
 
 A New- Year's Gift to Children. 
 
 By the author of " John Halifax, Gentleman." With Illustrations, price Is. 
 
 Nuggets from the Oldest Diggings ; 
 
 Or, Researches in the Mosaic Creation. Crown 8vo, cloth, price 3s. 6d. 
 
 " At the Seaside." 
 
 Xugae Criticae ; Occasional Papers written at the Seaside. By SHIRLEY. Crown 
 8vo, price 9s. 
 
 The Bishop's Walk and The Bishop's Times. 
 
 By ORWELL. Fcap. 8vo, price 5s. 
 
 Richard Arbour ; 
 
 Or, The Scapegrace of the Family. By JAMES PAYN. Crown 8vo, price 9s. 
 
 On the Food of Man in relation to his Useful Work. 
 
 By LYON PLAYFAIR, C.B., LL.D., F.R.S., Professor of Chemistry and Chemical 
 Pharmacy in the University of Edinburgh. 8vo, price Is. 
 
 Popular Genealogists; 
 
 Or, The Art of Pedigree-making. 1 vol. crown 8vo, price 4s. 
 
 Reminiscences of Scottish Life and Character. 
 
 By E. B. RAMSAY, M.A., LL.D., F.R.S.E., Dean of Edinburgh. Thirteenth 
 Edition, price Is. 6d. 
 
 " The Dean of Edinburgh has here produced a book for railway reading of the 
 very first class. The persons (and they are many) who can only under such circum- 
 stances devote ten minutes of attention to any page, without the certainty of a 
 dizzy or stupid headache, in every page of this volume will find some poignant 
 anecdote or trait which will last them a good half-hour for after-laughter : one of 
 the pleasantest of human sensations." Athenceum. 
 
 V The original Edition in 2 vols. with Introductions, price 12s., and the ninth 
 Edition in 1 vol. cloth antique, price 5s., may still be had. 
 
 Memoirs of Frederick Perthes ; 
 
 Or, Literary, Religious, and Political Life in Germany from 1789 to 1843. By C. T. 
 PERTHES', Professor of Law at Bonn. Crown Svo, cloth, 6s.
 
 10 EDMONSTON AND DOUGLAS, 
 
 Egypt: 
 
 Its Climate, Character, and Resources as a Winter Resort. With an Appendix of 
 Meteorological Notes. By A. HENRY RHIND, P.S.A. Fcap. 8vo, cloth, price 3s. 
 
 Scotland tinder her Early Bangs. 
 
 A History of the Kingdom to the close of the 13th century. By E. WILLIAM 
 ROBERTSON, in 2 vols. 8vo, cloth, 36s. 
 
 Doctor Antonio ; 
 
 A Tale. By JOHN RUFFINI. Crown Svo, cloth, 4s. Cheap Edition, crown Svo, 
 boards, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Lorenzo Benoni ; 
 
 Or, Passages in the Life of an Italian. By JOHN RUFFINI. With Illustrations. 
 Crown Svo, cloth gilt, 5s. Cheap Edition, crowa Svo, boards, 2s. 6d. 
 
 The Salmon : 
 
 Its History, Position, and Prospects. By ALEX. RUSSEL. Svo, price 7s. 6d. 
 
 Horeb and Jerusalem. 
 
 By the REV. GEORGE SANDIE. Svo, with Illustration?, price 10s. 6d. 
 
 Our Summer in the Harz Forest. 
 
 By A SCOTCH FAMILY. 1 vol. small Svo, price 6s. 
 
 Twelve Years in China ; 
 
 The People, the Rebels, and the Mandarins, by a British Resident. With coloured 
 Illustrations. Second Edition. With an Appendix. Crown Svo, cloth, price 
 10s. 6d. 
 
 Archasology : its Past and its Future Work. 
 
 An Address given to the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland. By Sir JAMES Y. 
 SIMPSON, Bart, Vice-President of the Society of Antiquaries. Svo, price Is. 
 
 The Law and Practice of Heraldry in Scotland. 
 
 By GEORGE SETON, Advocate, M.A., Oxon, F.S.A., Scot. Svo, with numerous 
 Illustrations, 25s. 
 
 V A few copies on large paper, half-bound, 42s. ; 
 
 " Cakes, Leeks, Puddings, and Potatoes." 
 
 A Lecture on the Nationalities of the United Kingdom. By GEORGE SETON, 
 Advocate, M.A., Oxon, etc. Second Edition. Fcap. Svo, sewed, price 6d. 
 
 The Roman Poets of the Republic. 
 
 By W. Y. SELLAR, M.A., Professor of Humanity in the University of Edinburgh, 
 and formerly Fellow of Oriel College, Oxford. Svo, price 12s. 
 
 The Four Ancient Books of Wales, 
 
 Containing the Kymric Poems attributed to the Bards of the Sixth century. Edited, 
 with an Introduction and Notes, by WILLIAM F. SKENE. 2 vols. Svo, with 
 Illustrations.
 
 88 PRINCES STREET, EDINBURGH. 11 
 
 My Life and Times, 1741-1813. 
 
 Being the Autobiography of the REV. THOS. SOMERVILLE, Minister of Jedburgh, 
 and one of His Majesty's Chaplains. Crown Svo, price 9s. 
 
 Dugald Stewart's Collected Works. 
 
 Edited by Sir WILLIAM HAMILTON, Bart. Vols. I. to X. Svo, cloth, each 12s. 
 
 VoL I. Dissertation. Vols. II., III., and IV. Elements of the Philosophy 
 of the Human Mind. Vol. V. Philosophical Essays. Vols. VI. and VII. 
 Philosophy of the Active and Moral Powers of Man. Vols. VIII. and IX. 
 
 . Lectures on Political Economy. Vol. X. Biographical Memoirs of Adam 
 Smith, LL.D., William Robertson, D.D., and Thomas Reid, D.D. ; to which 
 is prefixed a Memoir of Dugald Stewart, with Selections from his Corre- 
 spondence, by John Veitch, M. A. Supplementary Vol. Translations of the 
 Passages in Foreign Languages contained in the Collected Works; with 
 General Index. 
 
 Watural History and Sport in Moray. 
 
 Collected from the Journals and Letters of the late CHARLES ST. JOHN, Author 
 of ' WildSports of the Highlands.' With a short Memoir of the Author. Crown 
 Svo, price 8s. (3d. 
 
 Christ the Consoler: 
 
 Or Scriptures, Hymns, and Prayers for Times of Trouble and Sorrow. Selected and 
 arranged by the Kev. ROBERT HERBERT STORY, Minister of Rosenuath. 1 vol. fcp. 
 Svo, price 3s. bd. 
 
 Works by Professor James Syme. 
 
 OBSERVATIONS IN CLINICAL SURGERY. 1 vol. Svo, price Ss. 6d. 
 STRICTURE OF THE URETHRA, AND FISTULA IN PERINEO. Svo, 4s. 6d. 
 TREATISE ON THE EXCISION OF DISEASED JOINTS. Svo, 5s. 
 ON DISEASES OF THE RECTUM. Svo, 4s. 6d. 
 EXCISION OF THE SCAPULA. Svo, price 2s. 6d. 
 
 Sermons Preached at St. Paul's. 
 
 BY THE RIGHT REV. C. H. TERROT, D.D., Bishop of Edinburgh. In 1 voL fcap. 
 
 Lessons for School Life ; 
 
 Being Selections from Sermons preached in the Chapel of Rugby School during his 
 Head Mastership. By THE RIGHT REVEKEND THE LORD BISHOP OF LONDON. Fcap. , 
 cloth, 5s. 
 
 The Two Cosmos. 
 
 A Tale of Fifty Years Ago. Crown Svo, 10s: 6d. 
 
 What is Sabbath-Breaking ? 
 
 Svo, price 2s. 
 
 Day Dreams of a Schoolmaster. 
 
 By D'ARCY W. THOMPSON. Second Edition. Fcap. Svo, price 5s. 
 
 Ancient Leaves ; 
 
 Or Metrical Renderings of Poets, Greek and Roman. By D'ARCY W. THOMPSON. 
 Fcap. Svo, 6s.
 
 12 EDMONSTON AND DOUGLAS. 
 
 An Angler's Kambles among the Rivers and Lochs of Scot- 
 land. By THOMAS TOD STODDABT, Author of "The Angler's Companion." 1vol. 
 crown 8vo. 
 
 Travels by Umbra. 
 
 8vo., price 10s. 64 
 
 Memoir of George Wilson, M.D., F.R.SJE., 
 
 sor of Technology in the University of Edinburgh, and Director of 
 
 the Industrial Museum of Scotland. By his Sister, JESSIE AITKEN WILSON. 
 Third Thousand. Svo, cloth, 10s. 6d. 
 
 Life of Dr. John Reid, 
 
 Late Chandos Professor of Anatomy and Medicine in the University of St. Andrews 
 By the late GEORGE WILSON, M.D. Fcap. Svo, cloth, price 3s. 
 
 Researches on Colour-Blindness. 
 
 With a Supplement on the danger attending the present system of Railway and 
 Marine Coloured Signals. By the late GEORGE WILSON, M.D. Svo, 5s. 
 
 Dante's Divina Commedia The Inferno. 
 
 Translated by W. P. WILKIE, Advocate. Fcap. Svo, price 5s. 
 
 Odds and Ends. 
 
 Grave or Humorous, a Series. Price 6d. each. 
 
 1. SKETCHES OF HIGHLAND CHARACTER; Sheep Farmers and Drovers. 2. OUR 
 CONVICTS ; by a Practical Hand. 3. WAYSIDE THOUGHTS OF AN ASOPHOPHI- 
 LOSOPHER ; by D'Arcy W. Thompson. No. I. Rainy Weather ; or the Philo- 
 sophy of Sorrow. Gooseskin ; or the Philosophy of Horror. Te Deum 
 Laudamus ; or the Philosophy of Joy. 4, THE ENTERKIN ; by John Brown, 
 M.D. 5. WAYSIDE THOUGHTS OF AN ASOPHOPHILOSOPHER ; by D'Arcy W. 
 Thompson. No. II. Asses History Plagues. 6. PENITENTIARIES AND 
 REFORMATORIES. 7. NOTES FROM PARIS ; or Why are Frenchmen and 
 Englishmen different? 8. ESSAYS BY AN OLD MAN. No. 1. In Memoriam 
 Vanitas Vanitatum Friends. 9. WAYSIDE THOUGHTS OF AN ASOPHOPHI- 
 LOSOPHER; by D'Arcy W. Thompson. No. III. Not Godless, but Godly; A 
 Triangular Treatise on Education. 10. THE INFLUENCE OF THE REFORMA- 
 TION ON THE SCOTTISH CHARACTER ; by J. A. Froude. 
 
 In Preparation 
 
 ESSAYS BY AN OLD MAN. No. II. Christmas Day Limited Mail Tongue and 
 Pen. BIBLIOMANIA. ADAM FERGUSON, MINISTER OF LOGIERAIT ; An Auto- 
 biographical Fragment ; from 1072 to 1715. SKETCHES OF THE REFORMA- 
 TION IN ENGLAND ; by the Rev. Win. Hanna, D.D., Author of the " Life of 
 Chalmers." To be followed by other Papers.
 
 University of California 
 
 SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 305 De Neve Drive - Parking Lot 17 Box 951388 
 
 LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA 90095-1388 
 Return this material to the library from which it was borrowed.