 Appendix 3 of Old Time Makers of Medicine. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Adam Marsatich, September 2009, Alexandria, Virginia. Old Time Makers of Medicine by James Joseph. Appendix 3, Medieval Popularization of Science. The idea of collecting general information from many sources, of bringing it together into an easily available form, so as to save others' labor, of writing it out in compendious fashion so that it could readily pass from hand to hand, is likely to be considered typically modern. As a matter of fact, the Middle Ages furnish us with many examples of the popularization of science, of the writing of compendia of various kinds, of the gathering of information to save others the trouble, and above all, of the making of what, in the modern time, we would call encyclopedias. Handbooks of various kinds were issued, manuals for students and specialists, and many men of broad scholarship in their time, devoted themselves to the task of making the acquisition of knowledge easy for others. This was true not only for history and philosophy and literature, but also for science. It is not hard to find, in each century of the Middle Ages, some distinguished writer, who devoted himself to this purpose, and for the sake of the light, that it throws on these scholars, and the desire for information that must have existed very commonly, since they were tempted to do the work. It seems worthwhile to mention here their names, and those of the books they wrote, with something of their significance, though the space will not permit us to give here much more than a brief catalogue raisonnée of such works. Very probably the first, who should be mentioned in the list, is Bothius, who flourished in the early part of the sixth century. He owed much of his education to his adoptive father, in other words his father-in-law, Symmachus, who, with Festus, represented scholarship at the court of the Gothic king, Theodoric of Verona. These three, Festus, Symmachus, and Bothius, brought such a reputation for knowledge to the court, that they are responsible for many of the wonderful legends of Dietrich of Bern, as Theodoric came to be called in the poems of the medieval German poets. The three distinguished and devoted scholars did much to save Greek culture at a time, when its extinction was threatened, and Bothius particularly left a series of writings that are truly encyclopedic in character. There are five books on music, two on arithmetic, one on geometry, translations of Aristotle's treatises on logic, with commentaries, and a commentary on Cicero's Topica. Besides, he wrote several treatises in logic and rhetoric himself, one on the use of the syllogism and one on topics, and in addition a series of theological works. His great consolations of philosophy was probably the most read book in the early Middle Ages. It was translated into Anglo-Saxon by King Alfred, into Old German by Nautker Teutonicus, the German monk of St. Gaul, and its influence may be traced in Beowulf, in Chaucer, in High German poetry, in Anglo-Norman and Provencal popular poetry, and also in early Italian verse. Above all, the divine comedy has many references to it, while the convito would seem to show that it was probably the book that most influenced Dante. Though it is impossible to confirm by documentary evidence the generally accepted idea that both he has died a martyr for Christianity, the tradition can be traced so far back, and it has been so generally accepted that this seems surely to have been the case. The fact is interesting, as showing the attitude of scholars toward the Church and of the Church toward Scholarship thus early. The next great name in the tradition should probably be that of Cassiodorus, the Roman writer and statesman, Prime Minister of Theodoric, who, after a busy political life, retired to his estate at Viverium, and, in imitation of St. Benedict, who had recently established a monastery at Monte Casino, founded a monastery there. He is said to have lived to the age of ninety-three. His retirement favored this long life, for, after the death of Theodoric, troubulous times came, and civil war, and only his monastic privileges saved him from the storm and stress of the times. He had been interested in literature and the collection of information of many kinds before his retirement, and it is not unlikely that his recognition of the fact that monastic life offered opportunities for the pursuit of this, under favorable circumstances, led him to take it up. While still a statesman, he wrote a series of works relating to history and politics and public affairs generally. These consisted mainly of Chronicles and Pangeirics, and twelve books of Messolanies called Varie. After his retirement to the monastery, a period of ardent devotion to writing begins, and a great number of books were issued. He evidently gathered round him a number of men whom he inspired with his spirit, or, perhaps, selected, because he found that, while they had a taste for a quiet, peaceful, spiritual life, they were also devoted to the accumulation and diffusion of knowledge. A series of commentaries on portions of the scriptures was written, the Jewish antiquities of Josephus translated, and the ecclesiastical histories of Theodoric, Sozomen, and Socrates made available in Latin. Cassiodorus himself is said to have made a compendium of these called the Historia tripartita, which was much used as a manual of history during succeeding centuries. Then there were treatises on grammar, on orthography, and a series of works on mathematics. In all of his writings, Cassiodorus shows a special fondness for the symbolism of numbers. There is a well-grounded tradition that he insisted on the study of the Greek classics of medical literature, especially Hippocrates and Galen, and awaken the interest of the monks in the necessity for making copies of these fathers of medicine. The tradition that he established at Viverium is also found to have existed at Monte Cassino among the Benedictines, and, doubtless, to this is to be attributed the foundation of the Medical School of Salerno, where Benedictine influence was so strong. It is probable, therefore, that to Cassiodorus must be attributed the preservation in as perfect a state as we have them of the old Greek medical writers. His main idea was, of course, the study of scriptures, but with just as many helps as possible. He thought that commentators and historians, not alone Christian, but also Hebrew and Pagan, should be studied to illustrate it, and then the commentaries of the Latin Fathers, so that a thoroughly rounded knowledge of it should be obtained. He thus began in Encyclopædia Biblica, and set a host of workers at its accomplishment. Every country in Europe shared this movement for the diffusion of information during the Middle Ages, and the works of men from each of these countries in succeeding centuries has come down to us, preserved in spite of all the vicissitudes to which they were so liable, during the centuries before the invention of printing, and the easy multiplication of books. To many people it will seem surprising to learn that the next evidence of deep broad interest in knowledge is to be found in the next century in the distant west of Europe, in the Spanish peninsula. It is a long step from the semi-barbaric splendor of the Gothic court at Verona, to the bishop's palace in Seville, in Andalusia. The two cities are separated by what is no inconsiderable distance in our day. In the seventh century they must have seemed almost at the other end of the world from each other. Those who recall what we have insisted on, in several portions of the body of this work, with regard to the high place Spanish genius one for itself in the Roman Empire, and how much of culture among the Spaniards of that time, the occurrence of so many important writers of that nationality must imply, will not be surprised at the distinguished work of a great Christian Spanish writer of the seventh century. It would be only what might be expected for evidences of early awakening of the broadest culture to be found in Spain. The important name in the popularization of science in the seventh century is Saint Isidore of Seville. He made a compendium of all the scattered scientific traditions and information of his time with regard to natural phenomena in a sort of encyclopedia of science. These consisted of twenty books, chapters, we would call them now, treating almost De Omne Re Seville at Quibustum Alice. Everything knowable and a few other things besides. It is possible that the work may have been written by a number of collaborators under the patronage of the bishop, though there is no sure indication of this to be found either in the volume itself, or even contemporary history. All the ordinary scientific subjects are treated. Astronomy, geography, mineralogy, botany, and even man and the animals have each a special chapter. Pochet, in his History of the Natural Sciences during the Middle Ages, calls attention to the fact that, in grouping the animals for collective treatment in the different chapters, sometimes the most heterogeneous creatures are brought under a common heading. Among the fishes, for instance, are classified all living things that are found in water, the whale and the dolphin, as well as sponges and oysters and crocodiles and sea serpents and lobsters and hippopotamuses, all find a place together because of the common watery habitation. The early Spanish churchmen would seem to have had an enthusiastic zeal for complete classification that would surely have made him a strenuous modern zoologist. The next link in the tradition of encyclopedic work is the venerable Bede, whose character was more fully honored by the decree on November 13, 1899, by Pope Leo XIII, declaring him a doctor of the church. Bede was the fruit of that ardent scholarship which had risen in England as a consequence of the introduction of Christianity. It had been fostered by the coming of scholar saints from Ireland, but was, unfortunately, disturbed by the incursions of the Danes. While Bede is known for his greatest work, the ecclesiastical history of the English people, which gives an account of Christianity in England from its beginning until his own day, he wrote many other works. His history is the foundation of all our knowledge of early British history, secular as well as religious, and has been praised by historical writers of all ages who turned to it for help with confidence. He wrote a number of other historical works. Besides, he wrote books on grammar, orthography, the metrical art, on rhetoric, on the nature of things, the seasons, and on the calculation of the seasons. His latter books are distinctly scientific. His contributions to Gregorian music are now of great value. After this, Al-Souin and the Monks, summoned by Charlemagne, take up the tradition of gathering and diffusing information, and the great monasteries of Tours, Fulda, and St. Gaul carry it on. Besides these, in the 9th century, Monte Cassino comes into prominence as an institution where much was done of what we would now call encyclopedic work. After his retirement from Salerno, Constantine Afrikanis made his translations and commentaries on Arabian medicine, constituting what was really a medical encyclopedia of information not readily available at that time. After this, of course, the tradition is taken up by the universities, and it is only when, with the 13th century, there came the complete development of the university spirit, that encyclopedias reached their modern expression. Three great encyclopedists, Vincent of Buvi, Thomas of Kantemprano, and Bartholomeus Anglicus, are the most famous. Vincent consulted all the authors, sacred and profane, that he could lay hold on, and the number was, indeed, prodigious. I have given some account of him in the 13th Greatest of Centuries, Catholic Summer School Press, New York, Third Edition, 1910. It would be very easy to conclude that these encyclopedias, written by clergymen for the general information of the educated people of the times, contain very little that is scientifically valuable, and probably nothing of serious medical significance. Any such thought is, however, do entirely to unfamiliarity with the contents of these works. They undoubtedly contain absurdities. They are often full of misinformation. They repeat stories on dubious authority, and sometimes on hearsay, but usually the source of their information is stated, and especially where it is dubious, as if they did not care to state marvels without due support. Books of popular information, however, have always had many queer things, queer, that is, to subsequent generations, and it is rather amusing to pick up an encyclopedia of a century ago, much less a millennium ago, and see how many absurd things were accepted as true. The first edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica issued 150 years ago furnishes an easily available source of the absurdities of our more recent forefathers accepted. The men of the Middle Ages, however, were much better observers as a rule, and used much more critical judgment, according to their lights, than we have given them credit for. Often the information that they have to convey is not only valuable, but well digested, thoroughly practical, and sometimes a marvelous anticipation of some of our most modern thoughts. There is one of these encyclopedias which, because it was written in my favorite 13th century, I have read with some care. It is simply a development of the work of preceding clerical encyclopedists, and often refers to them. Because it contains some typical examples of the better sorts of information in these works, I have thought it worthwhile to quote two passages from it. The author is Bartholomeus Anglicus, and the quaint English in which it is couched is quoted from Medical Lore, London, 1893. The book is all the more interesting, because in a dear old English version, issued about 1540, the spellings of which are among the great curiosities of English orthography, it was often read and consulted by Shakespeare, who evidently quotes from it frequently, for not a little of the quaint scientific lore that he uses for his figures can be traced to expressions used in this book. The first of the paragraphs that deserves to be quoted discusses madness, or, as we would call it, lunacy, and sums up the causes, the symptoms, and the treatment quite as well as that has ever been done in the same amount of space. Quote, Madness cometh sometimes of passions of the soul, and of business and of great thoughts, of sorrow and of too great study, and of dread, some time of the biting of a woodhound, or some other venomous beast, some time of melancholy meats, and sometimes of drink of strong wine, and, as the causes be diverse, the tokens and signs be diverse, for some cry and leap and hurt and wound themselves and other men, and darken and hide themselves in privy and secret places. The medicine of them is, that they be bound, that they hurt not themselves and other men, and namely, such shall be refreshed and comforted, and withdrawn from cause and matter of dread and busy thoughts, and they must be gladdened with instruments of music, and some deal be occupied, end quote. The second discusses, in almost as thorough a way, the result of the bite of a mad dog. The old English word for mad, wood, is constantly used. The causes, the symptoms, and the course of the disease, and its possible prevention by early treatment, are all discussed. The old tradition was already in existence, that suffers from rabies or hydrophobia, as it is called, dreaded water, when it is really only because the spasm consequent upon the thought, even of swallowing, is painful, that they turn from it. That tradition has continued to be very commonly accepted, even by physicians down to our own day, so that Bartholomew, the Englishman, in the thirteenth century, will not be blamed much for setting it forth for popular information, in his time, some seven centuries ago. The idea that free bleeding would bring about the removal of the virus is interesting, because we have in recent years insisted in the case of the very similar disease, tetanus, on allowing or deliberately causing wounds in which the tetanus microbe may have gained an entrance to bleed freely. Quote, the biting of a woodhound is deadly and venomous, and such venom is perilous, for it is long hidden and unknown, and increases and multiplies itself, and is sometimes unknown to the year's end, and then the same day and hour of the biting, it cometh to the head, and breedeth frenzy. They that are bitten of a woodhound have in their sleep dreadful sights, and are fearful, astonied, and wroth without cause, and they dread to be seen of other men, and bark as hounds, and they dread water, most of all things, and are afeard thereof full sore and squeamish also. Against the biting of a woodhound, wise men, and ready used to make the wounds bleed with fire or with iron, that the venom may come out with the blood that cometh out of the wound. End quote. Footnotes, one, Medesines aus der Altesten Kirsten gestiste, Leipzig, 1892. Two, Foulis, London and Edinburgh, 1910. Three, my attention was called to the interesting story of the Jewish physicians of the Middle Ages and their scientific accomplishment while writing the article on Joseph Hurdle for the Catholic Encyclopedia. His Das Arabische Un Hebreische Inder Anatome, wine, 1879, has some interestingly suggestive material on these important chapters of the history of medicine. I owe my opportunity to consult it to the courtesy of the Surgeon General's Library. Biographic material has been obtained from Carmole's History of the Jewish Physicians, translated by Dr. Dunbar for the Maryland Medical and Surgical Journal, some extra copies of which were printed by John Murphy and Company, Baltimore, about the middle of the 19th century. Ross and Hacer's Histories of Medicine and Pushman and Pagel's Handbook provided additional material, and I have found Landau's Gestica der Judischen Erze Berlin, 1895 of great service. Four, of course there are many absurd things recommended in the Talmud. We cannot remind ourselves too often, however, that there have been absurd things at all times in medicine, and especially in therapeutics. It is curious how often some of these absurdities have repeated themselves. We are liable to think it very queer that men should have presumed, or somehow jump to the conclusion, that portions of animals might possess wonderful virtue for the healing of diseases of the corresponding special parts of man. We ourselves, however, within a little more than a decade, had a phase of opotherapy. How much less absurd it seems under that high-sounding Greek term, that was apparently very learned in its scientific aspects, yet quite as absurd as many phases of old-time therapy as we look at it. We administered cardin for heart disease, and nephrin for kidney trouble, cerebrin for insanity, save the mark, and even prostate tissue for prostatism, and with reported good results. How many of us realize now that in this we were only repeating the absurdities so often made fun of in old medicine with regard to animal tissue and excrement therapeutics? The Talmud has many conclusions with regard to the symptoms of patients drawn from dreams, as, for instance, it is said to be a certain sign of sanguiness plethora when one dreams of the comb of a cock. One phase of our psychoanalysis in the modern time, however, has taken us back to an interpretation of dreams, different of course from this, yet analogous enough to be quite striking. Five. Mimonides by David Yellen and Israel Abrahams, Philadelphia 1903. Six. Das Arabische und Hebreische in der Anatome, Dr. Joseph Hurdle, wine, 1879. Seven. Anatomy Antiquities, Rerores, Vienna, 1835. Eight. It seems hard to understand how so useful an auxiliary to the surgeon as the ligature, it seems indispensable to us, could possibly be allowed to go out of use and even be forgotten. It will not be difficult, however, for anyone who recalls the conditions that obtained in old time surgery. The ligature is a most satisfying immediate resource in stopping bleeding from an artery, but aseptic ligature inevitably causes separation, and almost inevitably leads to secondary hemorrhage. In the old days of septic surgery, secondary hemorrhage was a surgeon's greatest and most dreaded bane. Sometime from the fifth to the ninth day, aseptic ligature came away under conditions such that inflammatory disturbance had prevented sealing of the vessel. If the vessel was large, then the hemorrhage was fast and furious, and the patient died in a few minutes. After a surgeon had a few deaths of this kind, he dreaded the ligature. He abandoned its use, and took kindly to such methods as the actual cottery, red hot knives for amputations, and the like that would sear the surfaces of tissues and the blood vessels, and not give rise to secondary hemorrhage. A little later, however, someone not familiar with secondary risks would reinvent the ligature. If he were cleanly in his methods, and above all, if he were doing his work in a new hospital, the ligature worked very well for a while. If not, it soon fell into innocuous desuitude again. 9. Pushman, Handbook der Gersaische der Medicine, Volume 1, page 652. 10. The first dentist who filled teeth with amalgam in New York, some 80 years ago, had to flee for his life because of a human cry set up that he was poisoning his patients with mercury. 11. Storia della Scolota dei Salerno. 12. It is probably interesting to note that the word universitas, as used here, has no reference to our word university, but refers to the whole world of students as it were. In the Middle Ages, universities were called studia generalia, general studies. That is, places where everything could be studied and where everyone from any part of the world could study. Our use of the word university in the special modern sense of the term comes from the formal mode of address to the faculty of a university when popes or rulers sent them authoritative documents. Such documents began with the expression universitas vestra, all of you in the old-time English as preserved in the Irish expression, the whole of ye, referring to all the members of the faculty. The transfer to our term and signification university was not difficult. 13. Physicians wore a particular garb consisting of a cloak and often a mask, supposed to protect them from infections at the time so that it was not difficult to make a characteristic picture as a sign for a pharmacy. These symbolic signs were much commoner and very necessary when people generally were not able to read. It is from that period that we have the mortar and pestle as also the colored lights in the windows of the drugstores and the many-colored barber pole. Also, the big boot, key, watch, hat, bonnet, and the like, the last symbolic sign invention apparently being the wooden Indian for the tobacco store. 14. The Medical Library and Historical Journal, Brooklyn, December 1906. 15. Tario, who was born in 1215, according to our usually accepted traditions in the matter, would have been 75 years of age when Mondino, as a youth of scarcely more than 15, went to the university. It might seem that so old a man would have very little influence over the young man. Tario, however, had, as we have said, a very strenuous old age. Everything in life had come to him late. He was well past 30 before he began to study philosophy and medicine, having been a seller of candles from necessity because of poverty in his younger years. His great success in practice came when he was past 40. He first began to teach when he was 45 and he was nearly 55 before he began to write. According to tradition, he married when he was nearly 80, whether for the first or second time is not said. And while this might be considered and would in some cases be an indication of weakness of character, it would probably depend on whether he married or was married. It seemed in his case to have indicated a vigor of body and character, which shows very clearly how great was the possibility of his influence as a teacher having been maintained even up to this late time of life and thus influencing a pupil who is to represent the most potent influence at the beginning of the next century. 16, Medical Library and Historical Journal, 1906. 17, Pilcher, Locke's site, tells of her tomb, I venture to change his translation of the inscription in certain unimportant particulars. He says, quote, we know the very place where she was buried in front of the Madonna dell'Elettra in the Church of San Pietro e'Marcellino of the Hospital of Santa Maria de Moreto, where her associate, Ageno, mourning and inconsolable, placed a tablet with this inscription. Dis omnibus manibus, or cheo contenti, alexandre gallinae puelae, persecutanae, penicilo egregiae ad onitomen exibendam. Et exignissimi medisi mundini lucii, paukis comprendae discipulae, kinarees carnees hic expectant resurrectionem. Wixit anos unde viginti, obiet studio absunta, dai vicessimo sexto, marty anos salutis miletrescentae et viginti seks, auto egenios, los trulanos, ob eam deptam, sui potiori, partes poliatus, sodale egzemeae, actae se optime, meritae, inconsolable, monumentum posuit. This inscription may be translated as follows. In this urn enclosed, the ashes of the body of alexandre guiliani, a maiden of pariseto, skillful with her brush in anatomical demonstrations, and a disciple equalled by few. Of the most noted physician, mundinas of luci, await the resurrection, she lived nineteen years, she died consumed by her labors, march twenty-six, in the year of grace, thirteen twenty-six, auto egenios, los trulanos, by her taking away, deprived of his better part, his excellent companion, deserving of the best, has erected this tablet. End quote. Eighteen, this is so striking that I quote their actual words from GERLT, page 704, quote, multotis fit percusio, in anteriori parte cranii et cranium, and parte frangitor contraria, end quote. Nineteen, historical relations of medicine and surgery, down to the sixteenth century, London 1904. Twenty, of course, for any extended knowledge of Mondaville, a modern reader must turn to Nikes's translation of his surgeryia, which, with an introduction and a biography, was published at Paris in 1893. Nikes's publication of this and Guy Descholiac's treatise has worked a revolution in medical history, and, above all, has made these old authors available for those who hesitate to take up a work written entirely in Latin. Twenty-one, in the very first book containing some account of human anatomy, a German volume by Conradus Mengenberger, called Puke de Nature, the date of printing which is about fourteen seventy-eight, that is, less than ten years after the printing of the very first book, the Bibliopoporum, which appeared in fourteen seventy, there are, according to Hayler, in his Bibliotheca Anatomica, a series of illustrations. This is the first illustrated medical work ever published. Twenty-two, Fordham University Press, New York, 1908. Twenty-three, Fordham University Press, New York, 1908. Twenty-four, see picture of the hospital ward at Toner, in the thirteenth greatest of centuries, third edition, New York, 1911. Twenty-five, the historical relations of medicine and surgery by T. Clifford-Elbert, M-A-M-D, London, Macmillan & Company Limited, 1905. Twenty-six, the beginning of the manuscript copy in the Bibliotheque National, is extremely interesting as an example of the English of the period, and alongside of it, seems worthwhile to quote, the closing sentence as Nikkei's reproduces them. Quote, in God's name here, beginneth the inventory of gathering together, medicine in the part of surgery, compiled and fulfilled in the year of our Lord, 1363, by Guy de Colleaco, surgeon and doctor of physics, in the full seer study of Mount Pelier. On page 191, verso, here endeth the surgery of Mr. Guy de Colleaco, doctor of physics, end quote. The University of Cambridge copy has the title in the colophon, it runs as follows, quote, ye inventor of Guy de Colleaco, doctor of physics and surgeon of ye university, of Mount Peselani of Montpeliers, end quote. The fly leaf contains the words, quote, Jesus Christ save ye soul of Mitch, end quote. It is rather interesting to note how much closer to modern English is this copy made probably not much more than half a century later than the first one, and above all, how much more nearly the spelling has come. At this time, however, and indeed, for more than a century later, spelling had no fixed rule, and a man might spell the same word quite differently, even on the same page. The difference between doctors spelled thus in the early edition, and doctors in the later one, probably means nothing more than personal peculiarities of the original translator or copyist. 27. In Nikkei's, this last word is written crapte. I have ventured to suggest craft, since a misreading between the two letters would be so easy. In the same way, I have suggested tentatively a changing of the Z in the title of the bibliotech national copy to Y, making the word year instead of zeer. 28. A history of dentistry from the most ancient times until the end of the 18th century by Dr. Vincenzo Guarini, editor of the Italian review, Lodanto Stomatologia, Philadelphia and New York, Leon Febreger, 1909. 29. The first printed edition of Arculanus is that of Venice, 1542, bearing the Latin title, Ioannis Arculane, Commentaria in Nonum Librim Races, etc. 30. It is curious to trace how old are the traditions on which some of these old stories that must now be rejected are founded. I have come upon the story with regard to Basil Valentine and the antimony and the monks in an old French medical encyclopedia of biography, published in the 17th century, and at the time, there was no doubt at all expressed to its truth. How much older than this it may be, I do not know, though it is probable that it comes from the 16th century when the cacao-eat Scribbdendi attacked many people because of the facility of printing. And when most of the good stories that have so worried the modern dry as dust historian in his researches for their correction became a part of the body of supposed historical tradition. It is probably French in origin because in that language, antimony is attempting bait for that pseudo philology which has so often led to false derivations. 31. There is in the New York Academy of Medicine a thick 24 month volume in which three of the classics of older medicine are bound together. They are Curcringius's Commentary on the Triumphal Chariot of Antimony, published at Amsterdam, 1671, Steno's Dissertation on the Anatomy of the Brain, published in Leiden in 1671, and Father Kircher's Scrutinium Physico Contegiose Lewis Quaidicter Pestis, physical medical discussions of the contagious disease which is called Pest. This was published at Leipzig in 1659. Just how the three works came to be bound together is hard to say. Very probably, they belong to some old time scholar, though there is nothing about the books to tell anything of the story. The fact that all three of the authors were ecclesiastics of the Catholic Church, Valentine of Monk, Steno of Bishop, and Kircher of Jesuit would seem to be one common bond and perhaps a reason for the binding of these rather disparate treatises together. In that case, it is probable that the book came from an old monastic library dispersed after the suppression of the order by some government. It seems not unlikely that the volume belonged at some time to an old Jesuit library, for they have suffered the most in that way. That these three classics of medicine should have been republished in handy volume editions within practically 10 years shows an interest in medical literature that has not existed again until our own time, for during the 18th and early 19th centuries there was almost utter neglect of them. 32, paper read before the first meeting of the American Guild of St. Luke. 33, published by Putnam's New York, 1909. 34, Dublin, 1882. 35, the material for this chapter was gathered for a paper read before the Medical Improvement Society of Boston in the spring of 1911. In nearly its present form, it was published in the Popular Science Monthly for May 1911, and thanks our return to the editor of that magazine for permission to reprint it here. The additions that have been made refer particularly to the estimation of Aristotle in the Middle Ages. 36, New York, Putnam, 1908. 37, De solo et mundo, 1, TR, 4, 10. End of footnotes. End of old-time makers of medicine.