POVERTY AND DISEASE. BY CHARLES W. SUPER, PENURY, disease, and crime constitute the trinity of curses that have afflicted the world from time immemorial. It is probable that diseases and crimes of violence are gradually becoming less; but this affirmation can hardly be made of extreme poverty. A recent writer says: "The cost of poverty and crime in the United States, represented only by the sums disbursed in their treatment, amounts to at least one billion dollars a year." There is a wide difference between ancient and modern states in their corporate capacity toward these great evils. That they can be entirely extirpated no one believes; that they can be greatly lessened is the conviction of all. In civilized countries the number of persons who die of want and neglect is very small. Voluntary collective activity on an extended scale seems to have been first exercised by the early Christians. That they paid a great deal of attention to their poor is not only evident from the New Testament, but also from profane sources. Lucian, who wrote about A.D. 150, says in his "Death of Peregrinus" that "when the latter was in prison almost the entire world came to his aid with money and counsel." It is incredible how quickly these people are on hand everywhere when something occurs that concerns their association. They spare neither money nor labor. Hence it came that Peregrinus received pecuniary help from all quarters, and his imprisonment became a source of wealth to him. These poor people have persuaded themselves that they are immortal, body and soul, and are destined to live through all eternity. For this reason they despise death and sometimes seek it. Their chief lawgiver has made them believe that they are all brothers as soon as any one has gone over to them, denied the gods of the Greeks, taken part in the worship of a crucified sophist, and promised to live according to his precepts. Among such people there was less need of hospitals than where a more selfish spirit prevails. From the testimony of Lucian and others it is evident that Christian societies first inculcated as one of the duties of their members the care of those who were in distress; and by inference we are justified in saying that the pagans did not recognize such an obligation. The bishops were a sort of presidents of vast charity organizations that extended to the remotest parts where there were converts. Originally there were no special buildings; the sick and needy were cared for in private houses. In Europe a Roman lady named Fabiola established, in the fourth century, the first public hospital of which we have any account. In the time of St. Chrysostom the church at Antioch supported 3000 virgins and widows, besides strangers and sick. The Christians were also the first to insist on sexual morality, and to provide for the protection of unmarried women and widOWS. The early societies were almost purely communistic. Many of the fathers declared that charity was not a matter of mercy, but of justice; that all property is based on usurpation, since the earth rightly belongs to all men. These doctrines have a wonderfully modern ring. Some of the more benevolent pagans, among them the Emperor Julian, endeavored to rouse their co-religionists to emulation with the Christians; but their efforts were in vain. The wretched condition of the poor and helpless is often referred to in the ancient writings, yet almost as a matter of course for the reason that nobody knew any remedy. There are some notable cases mentioned in the New Testament. In the eighth chapter of Matthew two men, in the country of the Gadarenes, are said to have come out of the tombs who were so violent that no one dared to pass that way. These tombs were doubtless hewn in the rock by the wayside and would afford some sort of shelter. In the ninth chapter mention is made of a woman following Jesus who had been suffering from a hemorrhage for twelve years. She was prob ably a mendicant. A little farther on two blind men are reported as trying to obtain the Saviour's help. In the twelfth chapter a man is mentioned as being in or near the synagogue who had a withered hand. In the same chapter a blind and dumb man is brought to Jesus. In the fifteenth chapter a woman requests him to cure her daughter, who is a demoniac. In the twentieth chapter we are told of two blind men who sat by the wayside. It is evident from these and other cases that might be cited that the insane and helpless or partially helpless were numerous all over Palestine in the early part of the first century. Just after a devastating war the situation would, of course, be much worse. Nor were they better off in other parts of the world. When begging was regarded as a legitimate means of gaining a livelihood and was in fact for many persons the only possible mode, people were liberal to the extent of their ability. Perhaps the conditions are better now; but in the closing years of the nineteenth century mendicity was such a pest in Italy and Switzerland that it was impossible, at least for the foreigner, to avoid. Even in the streets of Paris one might encounter whole families begging together. The business must have been profitable, or so many persons would not have pursued it as their regular vocation. The problem of poverty was one which the ancients made no effort to solve in a systematic way. In Rome at times the poor were fed at the public expense. That they could not have succeeded is plain when we remember that after many centuries of added experience the poor are still one of the most perplexing economic problems with which state and municipal governments have to deal. The history of the English Poor Laws is one continuous record of failure. The eleemosynary activity that found expression in the erection of hospitals was developed on a large scale in France, Germany and Italy in the fourteenth century. That it was due to Christianity is evident from the names given to the earliest hospitals and from the further circumstance that they were built in the form of churches and connected with some church building. One of the oldest still existing is the Holy Ghost Hospital, in Lubeck, which somewhat resembles in its construction the Hospital de Tonnerre, in Paris, endowed by Margaret of Burgundy. Of a similar character is the Ospedale degli Incurabili, at Genoa; the Ospedale Mazzini, in Milan, and the Ospedale di San Spirito of Sassia, in Rome. Originally hospitals received not only the sick, but the indigent also, in conformity with their religious character. In London. there are more than a hundred hospitals. St. Bartholomew's, which is said to date from 1123, and very naturally bears the name of a saint, is the oldest. Next in order of age is the St. Thomas Hospital, dating from 1563. These two, with the London and Guy's Hospital, both founded in the early years of the seventeenth century, have over 2500 beds. The Russian language testifies that hospitals were introduced into the empire from the west and from Latin Christianity. Their word is the same, although spelled "gospital"; yet their language is capable of furnishing a native word just as the modern Greek has done. There are a few instances of outbursts of popular local and personal sympathy for the unfortunate recorded by the ancient historians. Tacitus relates that after the city of Bologna had been destroyed by fire the Roman senate aided the inhabitants with a donation of ten million sesterces, and that all tribute was remitted to the city of Apamea for five years because it had suffered severely from an earthquake. He also relates that a badly constructed amphitheatre at Fidenae collapsed when full of spectators, killing or maiming 50,000 persons, and that the grandees of Rome, which was near, threw open their houses and provided medicine and physicians for those who had been injured. He adds that this spasm of sympathy reminded one of the days gone by when after a battle the wounded were the recipients of the liberality and sympathy of the citizens. We are very inadequately informed upon the history and diagnosis of epidemic and contagious diseases. The Romans used both pestis and pestilentia in a physical and in a moral sense. Of these the Germans have adopted the former as pest and the English as pestilence. The Greek word is loimos. Existing evidence indicates that they were formerly less common than in more recent times. Smallpox seems to have broken out occasionally in Asia from time immemorial; in European medical annals it is not mentioned before the sixth century. Syphilis is first somewhat minutely described by an Italian physician and poet in 1530 according to the general opinion. That it was supposed to be of French origin is indicated by the name Morbus Gallicus first given to it. The name cholera was given by Hippocrates to a disorder attended with bilious diarrhoea, vomiting and cramps; it was apparently our cholera morbus, and was rarely fatal to adults. In early English the word appears both as choler and cholera toward the close of the sixteenth century. It It was probably taken from Pliny, who used it in various forms. The disease now known as cholera was virtually unknown outside of Asia before the beginning of the nineteenth century. The endemic disorder which played such havoc in Athens during the Peloponnesian War and is minutely described by Thucydides, was of Asiatic or African origin, but it does not appear to have been cholera. He says persons in health were suddenly seized with violent pains in the head. The eyes became inflamed; the throat and tongue assumed a bloody tinge and the breath was fetid. Then followed sneezing and hoarseness, after which the pain descended into the chest with a violent cough. Discharges of bile were attended with great suffering, followed by an ineffectual retching and spasms. The body did not feel very hot to the touch, nor was it pale, but reddish and broken out with pimples. The patients could not bear even the slightest clothing, and such was their unquenchable thirst attendant upon the fever that many threw themselves into wells and cisterns in their agony. Yet it made no difference whether they drank much or little. Notwithstanding their restlessness and sleeplessness they did not waste away greatly, so that when they died. on the seventh or ninth day they still had some strength left. If they survived this stage, the disease descended into the bowels, where it produced violent ulcerations and diarrhoea; hence, many died from sheer exhaustion. The disease began in the head and made its way to the extremities; many escaped with the loss of the latter, a few even losing their sight. The historian adds further that birds and beasts of prey either did not come near the corpses, though they lay unburied, or died after tasting them. That there were no hospitals at this time can be inferred from the statement that the people lived in stifling cabins, having been driven in from the country by the enemy, and that the bodies lay upon one another in their death agony or staggered about the streets and fountains trying to get water. The temples and sacred places were also full of those who had sought refuge in them. The horrible picture which the Greek historian draws of the dreadful reality is probably not surpassed in all literature. There are three other descriptions that have become famous: that of the plague in Florence, by Boccaccio; that of the plague in London, by Defoe; and that of the plague in Milan, by Manzoni. As, however, it is almost certain that Boccaccio was in Naples at the time, his material must have been furnished by others. Owing to Defoe's vivid imagination, his statements must be received with great caution. His ability to see and describe things that did not exist was so extraordinary that to this day many persons refuse to believe "Robinson Crusoe" to be a work of fiction. As Manzoni's "Betrothed" was written nearly 200 years after the event, his knowledge was derived wholly from written and printed materials. Thucydides, therefore, stands alone, both because he saw the ravages made by the plague about him and was himself attacked by it. Dysentery is another familiar word that has a long history. Herodotus, in describing the return march of Xerxes' army after its defeat in Greece, says that "all along their line of retreat, in every country where his soldiers chanced to be, they seized and devoured whatever grain they could find belonging to the inhabitants; while, if no grain was to be found, they gathered the grass that grew in the fields and stripped the trees, whether cultivated or wild, of their bark and their leaves, and so fed themselves. They left nothing anywhere, so hard were they pressed by hunger. Plague, too, and a disorder of the bowels (dysenteria) attacked the troops while still on the march and greatly thinned their ranks." Xerxes enjoined upon the cities along the route to feed and clothe his soldiers. But even if they had been so disposed they could have done little good with such a host. His father several years before had not even been so considerate. When he began his retreat from Scythia he simply abandoned the sick and useless to their fate in a hostile country, while Xerxes' soldiers were left in a country that at least professed to be friendly. Diarrhoia (a flowing through) is found as early as Hippocrates. In seventeenth century English it is preceded by the definite article; in the eighteenth, with the indefinite article. Both are now common. We also find it used in a figurative sense, as in the phrase "a diarrhoe of words and a costiveness of ideas." The word has in our day become so thoroughly Anglicized that one frequently hears "diarrhee" among the uneducated. Symptom is another Greek term that has passed into popular speech. Its Greek form is symptoma; in the plural, symptomata. In "symptoms" we have, therefore, a foreign base with the English plural sign. In the original it means anything that befalls us, often in the sense of mishap. It does not appear to have been used by the Greeks in In a pathological sense. Its descendants are found in most European languages. English it was often used of the mind as well as of the body. Bishop Stillingfleet wrote: "Our symptoms are bad, and without our repentance and amendment God knows what they may end in." The question is often asked whether the world at any period in the past has been happier than our own time. It is a question that cannot be truly answered. The Preacher uttered a judicious injunction when he wrote: "Say not thou, What is the cause that the former days were better than these? for thou dost not inquire wisely concerning this." The fact is that no matter how far back we go in literature we find lamentations over the "good old times" that have passed never to return. Except when a community or a country is visited by some special calamity, the sum of human happiness has remained nearly constant. Before the discovery of anaesthetic and antiseptic surgery and the bacterial origin of disease, there was a great deal more pain and death more frequent; but people had from time immemorial been accustomed to these visitations. We do not miss what we know nothing about nor deplore the loss of what we never had. It is only the man who looks upon the present and projects his mind into the future with the trained eye of the scientist who can feel sure that conditions are improving all the time and that human progress is without limit. ALL human actions, like the actions of animals, are developed between the two opposite poles of pleasure and pain, by the attraction of the former and the repulsion of the latter.-FERRI. We do not subscribe to the cynical belief that dishonesty and unfair dealing are essential to business success, and are to be condoned when the success is moderate and applauded when the success is great.-THEODORE ROOSEVELT. BLOOD IN THE DAWN OF THERAPEUTICS. BY LEWIS DAYTON BURDICK. THE successful transfusion of blood from a normally healthy person into the veins or arteries of one whose blood is dangerously impoverished is of comparatively recent date. It is said to have been attempted in the latter part of the fifteenth century, and again, with more favorable results, two centuries later in France and England, yet the feasibility of the operation was not satisfactorily demonstrated till the nineteenth century, and not yet has the blood of the lower animals been found free from danger and available for use in the treatment. In the study of ceremonies and customs of earlier or primitive people one is coming continually upon incidents that seem to give more or less promise, so to speak, of later important discoveries in science, though we may not often claim for those participating in them any appreciation of the possibilities of future achievements. Results have been in spite of their misconceptions, not in consequence of them. It is not conceivable that early man had any knowledge of the relations of white and red corpuscles or the battle of bacterium and phagocyte in the blood, but while we credit to his ever-present faith in magic the inspiration of the ceremonial institutions of the savage, may we not also feel that his dawning intellect may have been groping unconsciously through them toward a higher development? The idea that by drinking the blood and eating the flesh of another living being something of the nature of the life of that being is absorbed is very old and appears in many forms among less civilized peoples. In the rite of blood-brotherhood two men became brothers by opening the veins and sucking each other's blood. The belief has been widespread that life is in the blood and that the heart is the seat of life. In this Dr. Nassau, the missionary, finds a reason for the eating of his enemies by the African cannibal, and for the heart being specially desired at such feasts, particularly if the victim was a person of prominence. The savage also seeks to impart wisdom to the living by bathing the forehead with the drippings of the decomposing brain preserved in chalk. "On visiting chiefs in their villages," says Dr. Nassau, "they frequently were not in the public reception room on my arrival, but I was kept waiting for them. They had been apprised of the white man's approach, had retired to their bedrooms, and when they reappeared it was with their foreheads and sometimes other parts of their bodies, marked with that grayish mixture. The objects to be attained were wisdom and success in any question of diplomacy or in a favor they might be asking of the white man." West African sorcerers are sometimes charged with stealing and eating the hearts of men to make them invalids, who cannot recover unless the hearts are again restored to them. Incidents in the history of the American Indians show that the captive exhibiting bravery and endurance under torture was cut to pieces and eaten in order to absorb his courage. Ashanti fetichmen make mixtures of the hearts of enemies, mingled with blood and consecrated herbs, to be used in adding new life to their conquerors. Some of the Kaffir tribes of South Africa have a ceremony of washing a new chief on his accession in the blood of a brother or near relative, put to death for the occasion. In tales of superstition the ghoul and vampire leave their graves at night and renew life by drawing out the blood of those who sleep. The victims of the vampire in turn become vampires too. Byron's Giaour says: "But first on earth as vampire sent, Mary Kingsley describes the friendshipcompelling charm in use in the Batanga regions on the Ivory Coast. The head of a dead relative that felt kindly disposed |