after truth burns the same spiritual passion which consumed Isaiah or S. Paul. Only, as a Greek, he approaches his goal through the intellect, as they approached it on a tide of religious emotion. To know him is to know the greatest incarnation in history of the spirit of thought, keen-eyed, patient, ardent, moralised; and if we consider how often in the twentieth century we fail to think out the underlying principles of our beliefs or actions, how often we are victimised by unanalysed ideas, how indifferent we are to knowledge, how careless of truth, how ready to lose our temper and say things which turn discussions into partisan quarrels then we shall see how much we have still to learn from Socrates.

Let us take another example, earlier in time than Socrates, less famous than he, but full of the same spirit. A man, apparently in perfect health, falls to the ground with a sharp cry, and lies there rigid and pale. Then he flushes dark red, his fingers twitch open and clasp again; convulsions shake his arms and legs and face, his teeth close with a snap and foam trickles through them, he perspires profusely. In a few minutes. he begins to come to himself, and then falls into

a deep sleep. There is no visible explanation of these sudden fits; they may be rare and have no permanent effect, they may be frequent and pass into a darker eclipse of the reason. We recognise the symptoms of epilepsy, but if we had lived before the conception of science and of natural law had dawned, when all unusual things seemed magical, would it be surprising if we had thought them uncanny and supernatural? We know that the Jews as late as our own era supposed epileptics to be "possessed with a devil." Now hear a Greek of the fifth century on the subject. He is attacking the prevalent view that this is a 'sacred disease,' sent by god and to be cured by incantations: "I, however, do not consider that the body of man is polluted by god, the most perishable by the most holy of things; for even if it were defiled, or in any way affected by something else, it would be likely to be purified and sanctified rather than polluted by god. . . . This disease seems to me to be no more divine than the rest; but it is as natural as all other diseases, and has a cause for all its symptoms; it has the same origin as all other diseases, and is curable just as they are, except where from length of time it is confirmed, and has become too strong for the

remedies administered. In origin it is hereditary like all other diseases. For if a phlegmatic person be born of a phlegmatic, and a bilious of a bilious, and a phthisical of a phthisical, and a hypochondriac of a hypochondriac, what is to hinder it from happening that where the father and mother were subject to this disease, certain of their offspring should be subject also? Another great proof that it is in no way more divine than any other disease is, that it occurs in those who are of a phlegmatic constitution, but does not attack the bilious. Yet, if it were more divine than the others, this disease ought to attack all alike, and make no distinction between the bilious and the phlegmatic. The brain is the cause of this complaint, as it is of all the other chief diseases, and in what manner I will now plainly declare. . . ." And again: "This so-called Sacred Disease arises from the same cause as the others, namely, those things which enter and quit the body, such as cold, the sun and the winds, which are ever changing and never at rest. And these things are divine, so that there is no necessity for making a distinction, and holding this disease to be more divine than others, but all are divine, and all human; each has its own peculiar nature and power, and none is beyond our

control or skill. And most of them are curable by the same forces as produced them." 1

I have only quoted a small fragment from his essay, and given no idea of his minute enumeration of the symptoms, and the acute argument by which he supports his views; but is not his attitude cool, lucid, reasonable, observant, inspired by the very soul of science? Could the twentieth century, however it modified his conclusions, improve his spirit and method? And is there not something unique in the race which 400 years before Christ thus turned the light of reason into the black darkness of mystery that surrounded man?

"The clear recognition of disease as being

a process governed by what we should now call natural laws. . . led to habits of minute observation and accurate interpretation of symptoms, in which the Hippocratic school was unrivalled in antiquity, and has been the model of all succeeding ages, so that even in these days. the true method of clinical medicine may be said to be the method of Hippocrates." Here is an extract

1Hippocrates, repì iepĥs vovarov (ed. Littré, vi. pp. 362 f. and 394). In parts I have used the Sydenham Society translation. Sir T. C. Allbutt, Article on "Medicine,” p. 42, Encyclopaedia Britannica.

which shews not only his acute observation, but also his literary gift: "But such persons as are used to the disease, know beforehand when they are about to be seized, and flee from men; if their own house be at hand, they run home, but if not, to a lonely place, where as few persons as possible will see them when they fall, and they immediately cover themselves up. This they do from shame of the affection, and not from fear or from religious reasons, as most people suppose. Little children at first fall down wherever they may happen to be, because they are not used to the disease. But when they have been often seized, and feel its approach beforehand, they run to their mothers or to any other person they know, from terror and dread of the affection; for they do not know yet what it is to be ashamed."1 Could anything be more moving than this? It is like an extract rather from a tragedy than a medical treatise.

To the same Hippocrates is attributed the noble physician's oath which, with small changes, is still used in some of our medical schools: "I swear by Apollo the physician, and by Asclepius, and Health, and All-Heal, and I call all gods and 1 περὶ ἱερῆς νούσου (ed. Littre, vi. p. 328).