Category Archives: Medicine, Health and Society (Vanderbilt)

The Philosopher’s Stone: Medical Thought about Immortality

By Elizabeth Fix (Vanderbilt University)

From Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone to Spaniard Ponce de Leon’s search for the Fountain on Youth in North America, there are many fantastical legends we’ve heard of regarding the prolongation and rejuvenation of life. However, the concept of living forever was once founded upon actual medical and scientific thought.  Theories to extend one’s lifespan began rather simply with Luigi Cornaro’s Discorsi della vita sobri, which advocated a healthy diet and all behaviors in moderation as a means to live longer.

These theories grew increasingly radical with the onset of the Enlightenment.  In the seventeenth century, Rene Descartes became obsessed with the concept of using medicine to prevent aging. He states, “I believe it may be possible to find many very sound precepts for the cure of diseases and for their prevention and also even for the retardation of aging,” and he looked forward to reaping the results of his hard work later in life.  Unfortunately, if somewhat ironically, his efforts were cut short by his untimely death at the age of 54.  In 1795, Condorcet published the most radical idea of all. He believed that society was constantly evolving and that “the day will come when death will be due only to extraordinary accidents.”  He believed that better living conditions, inheritance of superior genes, and more comprehensive medicine were the keys to living forever.

Although his ideas were radical, he planted the seeds of associating longevity with social improvement.  The work of Descartes, Condorcet, and others, stressed increased longevity as one of the pinnacles of contemporary medicine.  Of course, the social implications of people living longer and causing overpopulation could not be denied.  Thomas Malthus challenged these thinkers’ theories, claiming that not only was an immortal utopia impossible to achieve, but it was immoral.  He concludes his attack by noting how presumptuous of Condorcet it was to assume he would be the one to live forever, when countless genius minds had succumbed to death before him. Thus, the Enlightenment quashed rumors of immortality which science had originally propagated.

Source: Gruman, Gerald J. “A History of Ideas About the Prolongation of Life.” Transactions of the American Philosophical Society. Vol. 56, Pt. 9. 1966.

 

 

Sensibility and George Cheyne’s “English Malady”

By Liz Deangelo (Vanderbilt University)

In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the notion of sensibility became a social phenomenon that permeated the art and literate of the time.  Sensibility was a term used to describe an acute feeling of emotion or a quickness of perception.  Although it became a term to describe social refinement and good breeding, the idea of sensibility originally developed from medical conceptions about delicate or sensitive nerves.

A fine sensibility or fragility of the nervous system could cause malaises of both the mind and the body.  During the eighteenth-century in Britain, various disorders of the nervous system were combined through the umbrella term of nervous disease.  Nervous disease encompassed a broad range of distempers, including melancholy, hysteria and anxiety. Furthermore, these nervous disorders mostly beset the British elite, according to the Scottish physician George Cheyne.

In his medical treatise The English Malady: or a Treatise on the Spleen and Vapours,  George Cheyne boldly claimed that nearly one third of the English upper-class suffered from a type of nervous disorder, which he called the “English Malady.”  Cheyne avowed that the climate, rich food and luxury of eighteenth-century Britain contributed to the malady plaguing many of the well-to-do.  In particular, women suffered from a type of melancholic hysteria due to the weakness of their nerves.  Fainting or swooning indicated the frailty of the female nervous system and became a fashionable way for women to behave.  Furthermore, it became fashionable to diagnosis women with a nervous disorder.  As one physician from the city of Bath, England once exclaimed to a patient, “Madam, you are nervous.”  The nervous diagnosis brought together the physical, psychological and fashionable aspects of upper class in eighteenth-century Britain and demonstrates the fluid boundary between medicine and society during that time.

Sources:

Cheyne, George. The English Malady. London, M.DCC.XXXIII. [1733]. Eighteenth Century

Collections Online. Gale. Vanderbilt University. 4 Oct. 2011
<http://find.galegroup.com.proxy.library.vanderbilt.edu/ecco/advancedSearch.do>.

Houston, R. A. “Madness and Gender in the Long Eighteenth Century.” Social History 27.3

(2002): 309-26. JSTOR. Oxford Journals. Web. 4 Oct. 2011. <http://www.jstor.org/stable//508347>.

Jackson, Stanley W. Melancholia and Depression: from Hippocratic Times to Modern Times.

New Haven: Yale UP, 1986. Print

Jordanova, L. J. Sexual Visions: Images of Gender in Science and Medicine between the

Eighteenth and Twentieth Centuries. New York: Harvester Wheatsheaf, 1989. Print

Schmidt, Jeremy. Melancholy and the Care of the Soul: Religion, Moral Philosophy and

Madness in Early Modern England. Aldershot, England: Ashgate, 2007. Print.

Van Sant, Ann J. Eighteenth Century Sensibility and the Novel: the Senses in Social Context.

Cambridge: Cambridge Univ., 1993. Print

Goya’s Madhouse

By Nabeela Ahmad (Vanderbilt University)

In 1789, the French National Assembly proposed a radical document, “The Declaration of the Rights of Man and Citizen,” which delineated what would later become the basis of the French Constitution. In 1790, the Assembly released several decrees to ensure provisions within the declaration. The following decree provides a startling but insightful glimpse into the state of psychological treatment in Europe during the late eighteenth century:  

Within six weeks of the present decree, all persons detained in castles, religious houses, gaols, police houses or prisons of any other description…unless they have also been sentenced or charged or are awaiting trial for a serious crime, have been stripped of their civil rights, or have been locked up on account of madness, are to be set free.2

Despite its intellectual radicalism, the French Revolution considered the mentally ill on the same plane as common criminals.

Completed by Spanish artist Francisco Goya in 1794, Yard with Lunatics consummately portrays the situation in the above decree. Following an episode of personal mental and physical breakdown, Goya created a set of works he called caprichos, images displaying Spanish cultural spectacles (e.g. bullfights), which he sent to the Royal Academy of Arts of San Fernando.4 The Royal Academicians referred to this series as “various scenes of national diversions.” In a rather dark twist, however, Goya followed by sending the Royal Academy Yard with Lunatics as a conclusion to the caprichos. Goya’s letters to Bernardo Iriarte, Vice-protector of the Royal Academy during that time, capture how The Yard with Lunatics is dually representational of Goya’s inner torment and the outward treatment of the mad during the late eighteenth century.3

In a letter to Iriarte, Goya indicates, “I have managed to make observations for which there is no opportunity in commissioned works which give no scope for fantasy and invention.”3  Yard with Lunatics captures a fantastical, yet grotesquely realistic image of desolation. The painting is dark and muted within the courtyard; the bright sunlight at the top does not enter the courtyard. One man in the center seems to be looking upward in desperation.  In a second letter to Iriarte, Goya says the painting “ represents a yard with lunatics and two of them fighting completely naked while their warder beats them, and others in sacks; (it is a scene which I saw in Saragossa).”3 Goya’s inclusion of Yard with Lunatics within the series of “national diversions,” shows, like the French decree, how widely accepted the punitive treatment of the mad and their experience of desolation had become.

Sources:

1. “A Goya Biography.” Goya. Museo del Prado, 1961. Web. 17 Nov 2011. <http://www.eeweems.com/goya/1961_prado_bio.html>.

2. Foucault, Michel. History of Madness. Abingdon: Routledge, 2006. Print.

3. Gassier, Pierre and Juliet Wilson. The Life and Complete Work of Francisco Goya. New York:  Reynal & Co., 1971. 109-111.

4. Hilton, Tim. “Something wicked this way comes: Two shows, one of small works by Goya, the other a series of religious paintings by Francisco de Zurbaran, reveal Spain’s darkest artists in a new light.” Independent 20 Mar 1994. Web. 30

5. “Yard with Lunatics.” Graphic. Francisco Goya. 1794. Painting.

 

How to Cure Leprosy According to a Medieval Physician

By Regan Allen (Vanderbilt University)

In its later stages, the body of a medieval leper bore the appalling signs of decay and putrefaction: a misshapen face, numb and deteriorating limbs, festering sores on the skin, rancid breath and a raspy, fading voice. Believed to be highly contagious, this distressing image was the source of vast panic in medieval Europe. The progressing fear of leprosy in part justifies the existence of surprisingly extreme proposed treatments and cures during that time.

Medieval physicians explained leprosy’s unsightly symptoms by humoralism, a well-established medical model that divided bodily composition into four fluids, or humors: blood, yellow bile, black bile, and phlegm. Many asserted that an excess of black bile contaminating the blood resulted in the leprous condition. This conjecture resulted in a variety of treatments that aimed to purify the blood and the body as a way to realign the humors.

For example, an alchemist would give a leprous individual a concoction containing gold, a metal that symbolized richness and purity. Lepers willingly drank the solution expecting that the gold would cleanse and restore humoral equality, correcting the infirmity.

Lepers were also submitted to the evacuation of excess humoral fluid through regular bloodletting. Typically, a surgeon would cut a vein near the location of the accumulated corrupt blood. A regulated amount of fluid collected in a pan as it seeped out of a blood vessel, ideally eradicating large quantities of concentrated impurities.

The medieval practice of spilling pure blood through sacrifice constitutes another, more fantastical proposed treatment. Soaking in a bath medicated with the blood of an infant or a virgin was considered a possible cure. A leper who sat in this blood bath expected to undergo what would now be considered like a transfusion: the corrupt blood moves out of the body while the untainted blood moves in to replace it.

In today’s Western culture, leprosy exists more commonly as a literary metaphor than as an actual threat to general welfare. However, the same cannot be said for the Medieval Ages, in which leprosy’s extensive presence cultivated the development of treatments as extreme as the society’s overwhelming fear of the disease.

 

Brenner, Elma. “Recent Perspectives on Leprosy in Medieval Western Europe1.” History Compass 8.5 (2010): 388-406. Print.

Brody, Saul Nathaniel. The Disease of the Soul; Leprosy in Medieval Literature. Ithaca: Cornell UP, 1974. Print.

Demaitre, Luke E. Leprosy in Premodern Medicine: a Malady of the Whole Body. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins UP, 2007. Print.

Zimmerman, Susan. “Leprosy in the Medieval Imaginary.” Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies 38.3 (2008): 559-87. Print.

 

Syphilis as the Disease of St. Job

By Erica Graff (Vanderbilt University)

Today, syphilis is understood to be a sexually transmitted disease that is spread through direct contact with syphilis sores. But this was not always the case.

A small group of early modern Europeans referred to syphilis as the disease of St. Job. These pious people generally understood the disease to be a direct message from God. Ironically, however, this idea sheds a comparatively positive light on the often-shunned French Disease.

In its nature and symptoms, syphilis was extremely similar to Job’s disease as described in the Old Testament. It was believed that syphilis only affected certain people, as opposed to spreading like a plague. Likewise, God mysteriously sent an unknown disease to Job, and nobody else was affected. Both syphilis and Job’s disease were of unknown causes and their symptoms were long lasting and almost unbearable. Furthermore, these symptoms took so many forms that it was nearly impossible to find a cure for the entire disease.

Because not much was known about syphilis, it was most easily explained by creating a parallel with the disease of St. Job. Although some viewed Job’s disease as a divine punishment, others believed that it was in fact a test of a layman’s faith in the Lord. Many versions of the Book of Job conclude with God rewarding Job’s unwavering faith and innocent suffering. Syphilis, then, could be viewed in this same manner because there was no other feasible explanation. If those affected by syphilis remained faithful and unquestioning, then God would bring them a divine cure just as he had brought them the disease.

Thus, some members of the religious community viewed syphilitics more sympathetically. Doctors, who were viewed as God’s medical messengers, were more inclined to help treat symptoms. Instead of scolding syphilitics, people tried to morally guide them and assist them in healing and restructuring their lives.

Essentially, syphilis was widely understood to be a horrible disease that appeared as a punishment for immoral behavior in early modern Europe. There was however a small group of people who believed the disease to come from that of St. Job. In this case, syphilitics were a representation of unwavering faith and this presented a more positive image of the disease.

Source:

Arrizablaga, Jon et al. The Great Pox: The French Disease in Renaissance Europe. New Haven:  Yale University Press, 1997. Print.

The Compleat Midwifes Practice

By Kate Stidham (Vanderbilt University)

The Compleat Midwifes Practice is an intriguing midwifery text printed in England during the seventeenth century.  The first edition was released in 1656 and the fifth and final edition was released in 1698.  The first edition included a preface, descriptions of male and female anatomy, birth procedures and practices, how to care for the mother and child, a series of anecdotes about actual births, and, finally, a letter written from Louis Bourgeois, midwife to the Queen of France, to her daughter describing proper midwife behavior.

The second edition changed names to The Compleat Midwife’s Practice Enlarged and added a section pulling from the works of Nicholas Culpeper, a famous apothecary of the day, describing how to conceive wise, male children.

The third edition added a section from the papers and notes of Sir Theodore Mayern, physician to several kings of France and Charles I of England.  This section expands upon the original bulk of the text, adding new recipes to bring about labor and treat various symptoms or discomforts of delivery.  The fourth and fifth editions do not add additional content.

The text was produced during a time of change in midwifery.  There were a rising number of men becoming interested in childbirth.  Surgeons had traditionally been called for difficult deliveries only, but more and more people were relying on them to deliver their children without the help of midwifes.

Because the text has content attributed to female midwifes, male apothecaries, and male physicians and because of the changing times, the question of authorship becomes an interesting one.  If women wrote this, they would be endorsing men that are encroaching on their field.   If men wrote this, they would be praising the expertise of Louise Bourgeois, acknowledging that women are extremely capable of doing a good job.  Unfortunately, there is no explicit naming of the authors or editors of these texts. The first edition was by T.C., I.D., M.S., and T.B., calling themselves practitioners.  Doreen Evenden claims that the text was written by female midwives of the day, but with only a series of initials to work with, there is no way of knowing for sure who wrote it.

Bibliography:

Evenden, Doreen. The Midwives of Seventeenth-Century London. N.p.: Cambridge University   Press, 2000. Print.
Cody, Lisa Forman. Birthing the Nation: Sex, Science and the Conception of Eighteenth-Century 
               Britons. New York: Oxford University Press, 2005. Print.
Pechey, John. The compleat midwife's practice enlarged in the most weighty and high concernments of the birth of man containing a perfect directory or rules for midwives 
               and nurses : as also a guide for women in their conception, bearing and nursing of 
               children from the experience of our English authors, viz., Sir Theodore Mayern, Dr. 
               Chamberlain, Mr. Nich. Culpeper ... : with instructions of the Queen of France's 
               midwife to her daughter ... 5th ed. London, 1698. Early English Books Online. Web.

Leeches and Lancets: A Sensible Mucus

By Sam McBride (Vanderbilt University)

While researching a paper on madness, I came across this statement on the brain in the 1792 essay A Review on the Subject of Canine Madness, “It is allowed by all that the brain is the only sensible part of the body, and that it is diffused over every moving fibre, in form of a sensible mucus” (Bourke, 6). This being a completely new theory to me, I attempted to trace it back to its source. Bourke attributed the theory to the surgeon Thomas Kirkland, who wrote in 1774, “the inside of a nerve is not a mass of fibres arising from the white part of the brain, but that it is a small portion of the white part of the brain itself, which is not fibrous, but the substance described.” (8). The substance described is a sensible mucus, which Kirkland supports by referencing the Swiss anatomist Albrecht von Haller, who, “when he saw it (the brain) without knowing what it was, it appeared to be ‘a mucus’ (7).

At this point the trail goes dead. Kirkland gives no indication as to where Haller wrote this, and I was unable to find that quote. As far as I can tell, no other references exist to “a sensible mucus”. Perhaps Kirkland was trying to create a physical model of Thomas Willis’ “animal spirits”. We may never know. It’s a theory lost to the dustbins of history, and a reminder that universal acceptance is a myth: no matter how prevalent the orthodoxy might be, there will always be dissenters like Kirkland and Bourke.

Works Cited

Bourke, Michael. A review of the subject of canine madness.

Philadelphia: Matthew Carey, 1792.

Kirkland, Thomas. A Treatise on Child-Bed Fevers, And On The Methods Of Preventing Them, Being a Supplement to the Books Lately Written on the Subject. London: 1774. 8-9. eBook.

Image: “The nervous system: a web of fibers or a ‘sensible mucus’?”  Wikimedia commons.

Even Royal Molars Decay

By Lauren Renaud (Vanderbilt University)

A gleaming white smile represents youth and beauty. Today, pearly whites are achievable for many through regular visits to the dentist. However, in eighteenth century France, the dental field was just seceding from quackery. A new professional, the dentiste, was replacing local blacksmiths who remedied toothaches through extraction with bulky metal tools. Without dental hygienists and the knowledge that sugar leads to cavities, even French royalty couldn’t escape the blight of tooth decay.

The most visible of royal dental disasters afflicted French King Louis XIV. Ironically, the Sun King, known for visual extravagance, was toothless by age forty. Throughout the 1680’s Louis XIV experienced tooth decay probably catalyzed by his taste for candied fruits and sweetmeats. Although the decay necessitated numerous extractions, the royal surgeon refused to remove the king’s rotten molars because dentistry was considered a “mechanical” field. Instead, he summoned arracheurs de dents (itinerant tooth pullers) to perform the tasks.

The procedures progressed regularly until 1685, when one extraction merited mention in the Journal de santé [The Health Journal]. In this case, the extractor accidentally removed a large portion of the king’s jaw and palate in addition to the rotten tooth. The Sun King was left with a large hole in his mouth. After this incident, whenever the King took a drink, the beverage spouted out his nose in a fountain-like manner. A surgeon later cauterized the hole ending the embarrassment and the festering infection.

After experiencing the woes of tooth decay, Louis XIV appointed a specialist dental surgeon in 1712. Years later, Louis XV also grew concerned about tooth loss. He assigned an even greater importance to the dentistry by granting his personal dentiste, Jean-Francois Capperon, letters of ennoblement. This meant that, by royal decree, the dentiste was now a member of the nobility.

Tooth decay not only afflicted French commoners but also members of high society. For French royalty, who assigned utmost importance to their appearances, the services of the dentiste became necessary for preserving their smiles and the marriage potential of their children.

Colonial Midwifery

by Heather Whaley

Colonial Midwifery began with the Mayflower’s journey in 1620. Bridget Lee Fuller delivered three babies during the two months long voyage and continued practice as a midwife in Plymouth for 44 years until her death in 1664. In addition, it is documented that one birth took place aboard the Arabella by a midwife that was brought on board from the Jewel. (1)

Among the many women pioneers in Colonial Midwifery a handful stand out. Anne Hutchinson was both a pioneer in civil liberty and religious toleration and a well respected midwife. One of her students, Jane Hawkins, delivered a “monster” baby and was suspected to worship the devil and practice witchcraft. Jane was later exiled along with Anne who was ultimately massacred by Native Americans. (2)

Many less known midwives were highly respected by their communities and their services were greatly appreciated. Ann Eliot was not known for anything new or controversial; however, she birthed over 3,000 children and garnered the respect of her community resulting in eight families making her the executor to their estates as they felt so indebted to her. Her epitaph reads “be ye blessing of God,…brought into this world above three thousand children.” (3)

The first to employ a town midwife was New Amsterdam in 1660. The midwife was paid 100 guilders per year for attending the poor. In the south, plantations usually had a slave that acted as a midwife to both black and white mothers. As time went on, in the south, the majority of midwives were black. The further north, the more white midwives there were serving both the upper and lower classes. If she was a paid community employee she was given a house but could not refuse to help anyone who called upon her. (1)

Many of the midwives in early America acted under the supervision of Protestant bishops. This was considered important with the high infant mortality rate of over 50% in order to baptize the infant before its passing. Complications with childbirth were quite common and survival with some was rare. Puerperal fever was the most common, and became increasingly common as men entered into Obstetrics. This was because men employed more interventions and vaginal exams. In a time before the germ theory this was the cause of great infection. In the 18th century the only relationship that was made was that hemorrhage led to the Childbed fever. This was in fact happening as materials that were not clean were used to stop the bleeding. Another common complication, “milk leg,” was swelling in the leg of the mother that happened on the third of fourth day and was thought to be caused by “bad” milk coming in; as women were confined to bed for up to weeks after their birth they were actually developing clots in the legs that caused them to swell.

Going into the 19th century, midwifery was dominated by men in America. In the late 18th century William Shippen established the first lying-in hospital in America in Philadelphia. He also participated in the founding of the University of Pennsylvania School Of Medicine, becoming their first professor of anatomy, surgery and midwifery, quite a mix!

The beginning of formal instruction geared towards men led to the swift demise of women in midwifery and the dawning of a more scientific era in healthcare. (4)

Image: John Ashton, Chap-books of the Eighteenth Century (1882). Prints and Photographs Division, Library of Congress.

1 Chaney, Judith A. “Birthing in Early America”. Journal of Nurse-Midwifery March/April 1980: 25(2) p. 5-13.

2 Litoff, Judy B. American Midwives. Westport: Greenwood Press, 1978

3 Packard, Francis. History of Medicine in the United States. New York: 1931.

4 Donegan, J. Women & Men Midwives. Westport: Greenwood Press, 1978.

Jane Austen at the Doctor

By Margaret Hernon (Vanderbilt University)

Literary critics have been trying to diagnose the feverish Marianne Dashwood, heroine of Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibilty, for decades.  Marianne becomes dangerously ill after being spurned by her lover and taking a long, melancholic walk in the rain, and her illness forms the climax of the novel itself.  Though many critics read this moment as a way to demonstrate the power of Marianne’s emotional turmoil, far older currents of medical thought are also at play, currents which may help to explain the prevalence of ill and invalid women in nineteenth-century works of literature.

When analyzing Marianne Dashwood – the overly-emotional embodiment of “sensibility” within Austen’s text – it is important to remember that, in the eighteenth-century, “sensibility” was far closer in meaning to “sensitivity” than “sensible.”  Many critics such as Barbara K. Seeber read Marianne’s fever as a way to symbolically depict her transition from foolish, excessive sensibility into sense (225-226).  After the fever, Marianne does vow to change her ways: “My illness has made me think…I saw in my own behavior…nothing but a series of imprudence towards myself, and want of kindness to others” (Austen 244).

Austen, however, is writing from a centuries-old cultural paradigm in which women were held to be irrational and infirm due to their wombs.  A 1670 text, for example, elaborates on the sufferings of women in “Hysterik Fits”: “Their Dreams are frightful, their Eyes are fixt and staring…they cough without intermission, spit in vast quantities for weeks” (Anon. 36).  Though it may seem counter-intuitive for doctors in the age of Enlightenment to still hold the womb responsible for such vagaries, this was clearly not the case.  As the eighteenth-century French physician Louyer-Villermay demonstrates, hysteria was “an ill of which the womb is the seat and which is entirely distinct from all the disorders that can exist in the genital organs of men” (Williams 252).

Marianne Dashwood, then, is not suffering solely in response to her thwarted love affair.  She – as well as numerous other literary lady invalids – is ill simply because she is a woman and must be ill.

 

Works Cited:

Anonymous. An account of the causes of some particular rebellious distempers. London: 1670

Austen, Jane. Sense and Sensibility. New York: The Modern Library, 2001.

Seeber, Barbara. “I See Everything as You Desire Me to Do: The Scolding and Schooling of

Marianne Dashwood.” Eighteenth-Century Fiction. 17 (2004): 87-110

Williams, Elizabeth A. “Hysteria and the Court Physician in Enlightenment France.”

Eighteenth-Century Studies. 35 (2002): 247-255.

Image: Sketch of Jane Austen by her sister Cassandra, 1810.  Wikimedia Commons