As promised, I’d like to write a little about what I learned at the Royal College of Physicians in Edinburgh, but let me first describe how great the actual building was. The rooms were grand, high ceilinged, and adorned with intricate moldings, beautiful portraits, and in the libraries, extremely impressive book cases filled with volumes upon volumes of medical journals, the most precious of which were kept in the lower levels of the college to minimize degradation from humidity. Really not enough can be said about the beauty of these rooms. Between the artistic pillars (which we later found out were not actually made of marble, but of wood, since marble is much heavier and could have fallen through the floor), the grand murals painted on the ceilings, and the engraved wood framing the rooms themselves, this building was utter perfection.
Now that I’ve got that out of my system, what really made our tour of the college great was out tour guide, Morrice McCrae. He had just written a book on James Young Simpson, an early pioneer of chloroform as an anesthetic, and was super knowledgeable on all things simpsonian. He had a lot to say, and a lot of advice to give. Here are just a few things that I learned at the royal college of physicians:
1. Our Preoccupation with curing patients is a recent phenomenon.
Physicians in the nineteenth century and earlier wanted to see their patients trough their illnesses more so than cure them. They could do small things for them: make sure they continued to eat and drink, encourage plenty of rest, in some cases they would draw blood via leeches or a surgeon, etc. But for the most part, physicians were interested in letting disease run its course, and observing what sorts of symptoms would arise and digress over time.
2. Make money off of text books by publishing them in Spanish.
One of the more practical things our guide told us was, if any of us was ever to write and publish a textbook, getting it published in Spanish could yield big bucks. He told us that a few other historians he worked with had written textbooks, and that their best customers were in South America. And this was a good tip, because I know it’s not the easiest thing in the world to make money off of a textbook in the US. I’ll try to keep this little nugget of information in the back of my mind just in case.
3. Smokers have no excuse.
In a glass display case there was a 17th century text warning young people of the dangers of smoking. So if the knowledge that smoking was bad for you has been around for over 300 years, WHY THE HELL DO PEOPLE STILL SMOKE! Sorry, I had to get that out.
4. Little Miss Muffett was based on some doctor that liked ground up spiders.
Also in a glass display case, there was a book opened to a page about a Dr. Muffett, who used to make medicines that always included ground up spiders as an ingredient. According to our guide, Dr. Muffett was the inspiration behind the children’s rhyme, Little Miss Muffett.
5. Simpson got his ideas out there.
Finally we get to Simpson. Clearly when you take a tour and your tour guide is an expert on something, the most interesting thing you learn will probably be about that something. I have noticed something about historically significant men in medicine as we have looked at more and more of them: People that are remembered for making breakthroughs in medicine always find a way to get their ideas to the public. Edward Jenner was not the first person to observe that people that caught cow pox were later immune to small pox. Physicians in the country had been well aware of that fact long before Jenner decided to confirm the observation and popularize it. When Edward Jenner first wrote to the Royal Society about cowpox and a potential smallpox vaccine, he was told to drop his investigation if he valued his reputation. Rather than back down, he performed more experiments, wrote up a comprehensive manuscript of his findings, and published it himself. Now, he is remembered as “the Father of Inoculation,” and he has his initiative to blame for his success.
Simpson, in much the same way, made sure to make his ideas known to the public. The medical community was not very receptive to his backing of chloroform as an anesthetic, but Simpson was used to dealing with opposition. He had already started his own journal to publish his own papers so that he would not have to rely on the approval of other publishers. This way, he could get information to the public, and he knew if he had the public on his side, the scientific community would not be able to stifle his ideas. After having experimented with chloroform, he wrote a pamphlet describing its potential, published it, and got a friend to distribute it to the public of Edinburgh. It was sold on the streets for six pence, so it was accessible to just about everyone. Simpson didn’t talk down to his public audience either; the pamphlet was written in very scientific terms and, since Edinburgh was at the time the most literate place in the world, since it was one of the first places to institute compulsory education so that everyone would be able to read the bible, the people of Edinburgh were exposed to the meat of Simpson’s findings. Of course, the prospect of eliminating pain in childbirth attracted great attention, and the medical community was unable to stand against public enthusiasm. So Simpson is remembered as a pioneer of anesthesia, because he sidestepped his opposition and made sure his message was heard.
Men that discover are not always remembered over men that take the initiative to make their findings known. Moral of the story (story being history).
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