Part 5 (2/2)
A son of De Quincey in his graduation thesis humorously supported Professor Simpson. He argued that the unmarried woman who opposed anaesthetics on the ground that her s.e.x was condemned by the curse to suffer pains, broke the command herself ”in four several ways, according to the following tabular statement”:--
”1. She has no conception.
2. She brings forth no children.
3. Her desire is not to her husband.
4. The husband does not rule over her.”
De Quincey himself supported his son in a letter appended to the thesis thus:--”If pain when carried to the stage which we call agony or intense struggle amongst vital functions brings with it some danger to life, then it will follow that knowingly to reject a means of mitigating or wholly cancelling the danger now that such means has been discovered and tested, travels on the road towards suicide. It is even worse than an ordinary movement in that direction, because it makes G.o.d an accomplice, through the Scriptures, in this suicidal movement, nay, the primal instigator to it, by means of a supposed curse interdicting the use of any means whatever (though revealed by Himself) for annulling that curse.”
But the Bible furnished Simpson with the most powerful argument of all in Genesis ii. 21, where it is written: ”And the Lord G.o.d caused a deep sleep to fall upon Adam; and he slept; and He took one of his ribs and closed up the flesh instead thereof.” He strengthened his position by explaining that the word rendered ”deep sleep” might more correctly be translated ”coma” or ”lethargy.” He had taken the full measure of his opponents when he answered them with this quotation; it was a reply characteristic of the man, and completely defeated these self-const.i.tuted theologians with their own weapons. They had attacked him as a man of science, and found that his knowledge of the Scriptures excelled their own. He did not fail to read these people a lesson, and point out the harm done to true religion by such conduct and arguments as theirs, reminding them that if G.o.d had willed pain to be irremovable no possible device of man could ever have removed it.
Such was the great fight--the fight for anaesthesia--which Simpson fought and won. He was the one man who by his own individual effort established the practice of anaesthesia, while Morton has the honour of being the one man without whom anaesthesia might have remained unknown.
Such was the opposition encountered, and such was the timidity of his professional brethren, that but for Simpson's courageous efforts it would have been the work of years to bring about what it was granted to him to accomplish in a brief period; if fear, ridicule, contempt, and bigotry had not perhaps sunk the new practice into oblivion. Of the hundreds who are daily mercifully brought under the influence of chloroform and ether, few are aware what they owe to Simpson, even if they know how great is the suffering which they are spared.
Simpson felt that the victory was indeed complete when in April, 1853, he received a letter from Sir James Clark, physician in ordinary to Her Majesty, informing him that the Queen had been brought under the influence of chloroform, and had expressed herself as greatly pleased with the result. It was at the birth of the late Prince Leopold that Her Majesty set her subjects this judicious example.
Much trouble to the cause was occasioned by enthusiasts who administered chloroform with more zeal than discretion, and without any study of the principles laid down by Simpson. As a result of imperfect trials, some persons went the length of saying that there were people whom it was impossible to anaesthetise at all, and others who could be only partially anaesthetised. Wrong methods of administration were used. Simpson patiently corrected these, and carefully instructed his students, so that the young graduates of Edinburgh University carried his teaching and practice into all parts of the world. Syme also took up the cause, and valuable work was done in London by Snow, and later by Clover. The teaching of Simpson and Syme led to such successful results that their methods are followed by the Edinburgh School to this day practically unaltered. So satisfactory an agent is chloroform in Edinburgh hands, that other anaesthetics are in that city but rarely called into requisition. All the world over it is the anaesthetic in which the general pract.i.tioner places his trust.
Having seen what Simpson did for anaesthesia, we may briefly review what anaesthesia has done for humanity. That it has entirely abolished the pain attendant upon surgery is easily recognised by the profession and patients alike. The patient never begs for mercy nowadays; he dreads the anaesthetic more than the knife; he has no anxiety as to whether he will feel pain or not, but rather as to whether he will come round when the operation is over; happily after one experience he realises that his fears were unfounded, and, if need be, will submit cheerfully to a second administration.
The horrors of the operating-room referred to in the preceding chapter were vanquished with the pain; the surgeon has no longer to steel himself for the task as formerly, to wear a stern aspect and adopt a harsh manner. The patient has no longer to be held down by a.s.sistants; instead of having to be dragged unwillingly to the operating-table--a daily occurrence sickening to the hearts of fellow-patients and students, while it served only to harden the surgeon and the experienced old nurse of those days--he will walk quietly to the room, or submit patiently to be carried there, and at a word from the surgeon prepare
”... to storm The thick, sweet mystery of chloroform, The drunken dark, the little death-in-life.”
The operation is no longer a race against time; order, method, cleanliness, and silence prevail, where there was formerly disorder, bustle, confusion, dirt, and long-drawn shrieks. Nothing ill.u.s.trates better the progress of surgery than a picture of the operating-room in the first decade placed beside that of an operating theatre in one of our leading hospitals in this the last decade of the nineteenth century. In the quiet of the patient, in the painlessness of the operation, in the calm deliberation of the operator, and the methodical order of all around him, in the respectful silence that prevails in the room so soon as the patient is laid on the table, we see the direct results of the introduction of anaesthetics. But there are other great, if less direct, results, each making its presence known to the professional spectator. By anaesthesia successful operations previously unheard of and unthought of were made possible after the principle of antiseptic surgery had been established; by anaesthesia experimental research, which has led to numerous beneficent results in practical surgery and medicine, was made possible. Its introduction is an achievement of which the Anglo-Saxon race may well be proud. Wells, Morton, and Simpson are its heroes. The United States has by far the greater share of the honour of its discovery; but to Scotland is due the glory which comes from the victorious fight. No event in surgery up to 1847 had had such far-reaching effects. Simpson himself looked forward to the discovery of some agent, better than both chloroform and ether; and it is still possible that there may be an even greater future in store for anaesthesia than was ever dreamt of in his philosophy.
CHAPTER VIII
HOME LIFE--CONTROVERSIES
The foundations of his fame; Comparison with Boerhaave--Family letters--Home amus.e.m.e.nts--Affection for children--And for animals--Puck--Holidays--Wide area of practice--”The arrows of malignancy”--Squabbles--h.o.m.oeopathy--Mesmerism--Refuses to leave Edinburgh.
Great as was Simpson's contemporary fame, the chief part of it had its origin in his indescribable personal power over his fellows, and in his inexhaustible energy. When to these was added the reputation won by the discovery of chloroform's anaesthetic properties, he stood not only as the most famous physician of his day, but also as a man marked out for posthumous fame. The personal characteristics of the man were speedily forgotten after his death, save by those who had been brought under their influence; the marked prominence given to Simpson and the ”discovery of chloroform” in the numerous recent reviews of Queen Victoria's reign on the occasion of the Diamond Jubilee, indicates that it is by chloroform that Simpson will ever be remembered. His lasting reputation depends on this work, not upon the characteristics which made him famous in the judgment of his contemporaries. The only physician in comparatively modern times, whose reputation approached Simpson's in magnitude was Hermann Boerhaave (1668 to 1738), the Dutch physician, whose fame and influence during his own lifetime were immense. Boerhaave's leading characteristics greatly resembled Simpson's: he had an enormous capacity for acquiring information, and a wonderful facility for imparting instruction to others; his energy and industry were indefatigable, and his memory prodigious. He taught from separate chairs in Leyden the Theory of Medicine, the Practice of Medicine, Botany, Chemistry, and Clinical Medicine, and at the same time carried on his large practice. Patients of both s.e.xes flocked to him from all quarters of the globe, and he is said to have acc.u.mulated from his practice a fortune of 200,000 in five and thirty years.
Although his treatment and method were, according to our modern knowledge, unscientific, his success in practice was as great as Simpson's; it sprang from the same cause; a wonderful magnetic personal influence, which commanded confidence and faith, so that he succeeded with the same possibly quite simple means which were fruitless in the hands of others. In his day all Europe rang with Boerhaave's name. To-day he is practically unknown. His books are antiquated, and if known, are neglected by modern physicians. He achieved nothing of lasting benefit to humanity. His fate, at least so far as the public is concerned, would undoubtedly have been Simpson's, in spite of his obstetric and gynaecological work, had it not been for the discovery of chloroform.
The increased fame and greatly increased professional income which followed the successful struggle for anaesthesia did not affect Simpson's homely characteristics. He found time in the midst of it all to enjoy the pleasures of home in the society of those he loved best, and of intimate friends. He took a keen delight in quite the smallest enjoyments of the home circle. A characteristic letter was written to his wife in the summer of 1849; she had gone with the children to the Isle of Man; he told her the great and small events of his daily life:--
”Delighted to hear from you that all were so well. Everything goes on nicely here. I have been looking out for a headache (but keep excellently well), for I have been working very busily, and scarcely with enough of sleep. Yesterday _beat_ (as Clark writes it) any day I ever yet saw in the house. Did not get out till half-past four, and the drawing-room actually filled beyond the number of chairs and seats! Have had a capital sleep, and got up to look at the ducks; but none laying this morning, so I write instead. To-day I have a fancy to run out to Bathgate, and I think I will.... Yesterday dined with Miller, and Williamson, the Duke of Buccleuch's huntsman, enlightened us about dogs. Miller and I go to Hamilton Palace on Sat.u.r.day.... My ducks won't lay any more eggs, at which I feel very chagrined.... Two salmon came as presents last week. I gave one to Mrs. Bennet. We are beginning a new batch of examinations at the college. _Such_ a sleep as I had yesterday morning! I came home by the last Glasgow train, _very_ tired. Tom came to waken me at eight, but I snored so that he didn't. He called me at half-past nine. I don't think I had stirred from the moment I lay down. This morning I have been reading in bed since six. I did not rise till now (half-past seven), because there was no duck laying.”
In another letter written on the same occasion he says:--
”... Tell Davie I expect a letter from him. Say to Walter that yesterday Carlo jumped into the carriage after me and saw with me several patients. He usually mounted a chair at the side of each bed and looked in. But Mrs. S. gave him too much encouragement. He leaped into bed altogether and tramped upon a blister! which was very painful.”
It was his custom to keep open house at breakfast and luncheon time; but the evening meal was, as a rule, reserved so that he might see and enjoy his own family and intimates. He lived exceedingly plainly himself; he did not smoke; his drink was water: but he delighted in setting a goodly repast before his guests. He loved a romp with his children, and spared an occasional hour from the afternoon for that enjoyment. The same energy entered into his play that was seen in his work. A craze ran through fas.h.i.+onable circles in the fifties for _tableaux vivants_, and was taken up by the Simpson household. He entered with spirit into the new amus.e.m.e.nt, perhaps more keenly because he saw an opportunity of combining in such representations instruction with amus.e.m.e.nt. Historical personages and scenes were represented, as well as ill.u.s.trations of poetry and fiction. With his infective enthusiasm he pressed poets and painters, grave and gay, into service, and there is a record of one highly successful entertainment at 52, Queen Street, in 1854, to which young and old alike were invited. On this occasion most of the scenes represented serious events in Scots history, but Simpson himself seems to have supplied a little comedy. Sandwiched between a scene of ”Flora Macdonald watching Prince Charlie” and one of ”Rebecca and Eleazar at the Well” came that of ”The Babes in the Wood.” Simpson and a professional colleague disported themselves as the Babes, and appeared sucking oranges and dressed as children--short dresses, pinafores, frilled drawers, white socks, and children's shoes. They wandered about a while, and then lay weeping down to die to an accompaniment of roars of laughter and to the great delight of the juveniles. It is but a small incident to chronicle, but it shows in his home life the great physician who was beloved by thousands. His deep sympathies made him delight in the society of children. As years increased, and with them work became overwhelming and worries and troubles persistent, he appreciated more and more the refreshment of a frolic with his children. He echoed Longfellow's pure words:--
”Come to me, oh ye children, For I hear you at your play, And the questions that perplexed me Have vanished quite away.
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