Meanderings in Medical History Book Four

Meanderings in

Medical History

Book Four

MICHAEL NEVINS

MEANDERINGS IN MEDICAL HISTORY BOOK FOUR

Copyright © 2016 Michael Nevins.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

iUniverse

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.iuniverse.com

1-800-Authors (1-800-288-4677)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-5320-1260-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-1261-7 (e)

iUniverse rev. date: 12/12/2016

CONTENTS

Introduction

1. A Face In The Crowd

2. Who Really Wrote The Prayer Of Maimonides?

3. Zombie Medicine

4. Plagues And Pox

5. Cholera Comes To Piermont

6. Love Letters Of A Country Doctor

7. Dance Class

8. Hysteria And Holmes At Dartmouth

9. Docteur Dieu

10. Medical Marvel And Moral Monster

11. A Cautionary Tale: The Eugenics Movement In New Jersey

12. Immigrants

13. The Foolmaster

14. Oddballs, Quacks & Conmen

15. Sexology

16. New Jersey’s Halls Of Medical Fame And Shame

17. Chairman Mao’s Western Doctors

INTRODUCTION

When I began a two year term as president of the Medical History Society of New Jersey in 2011, I thought that it would be fun to gather in one place several things I’d written in the past that pertained to my home state’s medical history. The result was Meanderings in New Jersey’s Medical History which contained twenty-two essays whose only unifying theme was that they had something to do with The Garden State. Having completed that project, there were many more subjects unrelated to New Jersey that had interested me over the years so a second book soon followed that I called More Meanderings in Medical History. Indeed there was so much material that the next year came Still More Meanderings in Medical History and by then I was sure that this had satisfied my compulsion to write - but not quite. During the next two years new subjects attracted my interest so that with this latest volume the trilogy has expanded to a quartet and, dispensing with adjectives, this one is simply titled Meanderings in Medical History: Book Four.

I have no illusions that these unrelated and unreferenced studies are worthy of a scholarly thesis; rather, they were written merely to amuse myself and if others share my interests, all the better. But meandering does seem an appropriate verb to describe my approach for, as should be evident from perusing the range of chapter headings in these books (see following), my taste is eclectic. Inspiration for many chapters came from unexpected experiences - such as a casual conversation, a museum visit or a perplexing roadside historical marker. With rare repetitions or overlaps, each chapter is free-standing and can be read in any sequence. And if that seems confusing, it should be understood that for a time each subject interested me enough to prompt exploration and writing my findings down provided a way of coming to closure and allowing me to move on to something else. So without further explanation, what follows are seventeen more meanderings in medical history, bringing total chapters in the four books to seventy-eight.

PREVIOUS MEANDERINGS.

BOOK ONE: Meanderings in New Jersey’s Medical History

1. A Very Healthful Air

2. Hackensack’s First Hospital: October-November, 1776

3. You’ve Got Mail

4. The Stormy Petrel of American Medical Education

5. From Brandy to Graham Crackers

6. A Country Doctor Calls For Help

7. Essex County Doctors Go To War

8. Doctor, Lawyer, Indian Chief - and Poet

9. Le Medcin Malgre Lui

10. The Old Doctor’s Garden

11. Treating the Sun Starved

12. Spectrochrome Therapy

13. The Perils of Pus

14. A Caring Physician

15. Abraham Flexner: The Princeton Years

16. Newark’s Polio Panics

17. Disaster at Bari

18. Dr. Evil

19. Dr. X

20. A Right to Die: The Sad Story of Karen Ann Quinlan

21. When Is Enough Enough?

22. Shooting the Messenger Twelve Years After He’s Dead

BOOK TWO: More Meanderings in Medical History

1. All Fall Down

2. An Eponymic Clash

3. La Salpetriere

4. Medical Cut Ups

5. The Autocrat and the Apostle

6. Bad Seeds

7. A Duty To Die

8. Honorary Paternity

9. Flexner’s Report

10. Master Diagnostician

11. Days of the Giants

12. Hairspray

13. Medical History in 3-D

14. Shtetl Medicine

15. Confronting Modernity

16. An Odd Couple

17. Fictional Jewish Doctors

18. I Shall Not Wholly Die

19. Two Doctors of Terezin

BOOK THREE: Still More Meanderings in Medical History

1. Why Study Medical History?

2. The Context of Medical History

3. The Courting Life

4. Monkey Business

5. Hysteria in Belle Epoque Paris

6. When Freud Visited New York City - And Wet His Pants!

7. The Lunatics

8. Professional Jealousy

9. Medical Madmen of Olde New York

10. Diary of a Rutgers Medical Student

11. Regulars vs Irregulars

12. House Calls

13. Country Doctors

14. The Birth of the Blues

15. Doctor’s Orders

16. Patriarch of Medical History

17. The Rise and Fall of Letchworth Village

18. Vaccinators

19. Luetics

1. A FACE IN THE CROWD

A friend of mine Dr. Jeffrey Levine for many years has been fascinated by minute visual details contained in the 16th century anatomic atlas familiarly known as the Fabrica that was produced by Andreas Vesalius. He once suggested to me that an obscure background figure seen on the book’s illustrated title page may have been a Jewish friend of Vesalius and, intrigued by this possibility, I decided to investigate. What follows here is adapted from a talk given by Dr. Levine and me in 2014 at the New York Academy of Medicine on the occasion of the 500th anniversary of Vesalius’ birth. (The full article was published in KOROT: The Israel Journal of the History of Medicine and Science. vol. 23 (2015-2016) 237-256)

The world literature is voluminous concerning Andreas Vesalius’ iconic De humani corporis fabrica (On The Structure of the Human Body) which was published in 1543. As James Ball wrote in 1910, Vesalius overthrew the idol of authority in anatomy and taught us to look at Nature with our own eye. Harvey Cushing, one of the Flemish anatomist’s most enthusiastic biographers, observed that no book has ever received such acclaim yet was read by so few. In our own time fewer still have seen more than a reproduction or two of a skeleton or muscleman" in a history book.

The massive atlas, known as the Fabrica, contains 659 folio pages of text, 34 pages of index and 6 pages of preface, but its importance relates to the 273 graphics themselves. Scholarly attention has focused mainly on those aspects relating to the Fabrica’s seminal role in medical history but the elaborate title page is of particular beauty -- as historian Charles D. O’Malley said of it, there can be no question that the woodcut ranks among the finest achievements of the art of the engraver in the 16th century. Vesalius is shown performing a public dissection upon a female cadaver in an anatomic theater, surrounded by a motley crowd of ninety onlookers. Since in the accompanying text Vesalius didn’t identify any of them, historians have had a field day speculating about individual identities, picking over fine details as assiduously as the Flemish anatomist examined muscles and bones.

Vesalius was known to personally plan every detail so there was nothing haphazard about the mob scene displayed on the title page where perhaps hidden in plain sight were background features which reflected conditions in 16th century Europe. If deliberately placed by Vesalius, there were numerous precedents for including coded content in Renaissance art. Indeed Benjamin Blech and Roy Doliner suggested in The Sistine Secrets that Michelangelo’s ceiling in the Sistine Chapel, painted some three decades earlier (1508-1512), contained subversive symbols of which the artist’s patron Pope Julius II wouldn’t have approved. The authors noted that every single element of Renaissance art has an inner significance: the choice of subject and protagonists, the faces selected for different characters in the work…their positions, stances, gestures and juxtapositions…all have hidden meanings.

Appearing in the top row of the dissection scene is a bearded man wearing a cylindrical hat - a single face in the motley crowd jostling to have a look. He is removed from the main action and appears troubled either by what he is witnessing or by what his neighbor is whispering in his ear. Over the centuries, scholars have suggested that he was Lazarus de Frigeis (alt. Lazarro Hebraeo Frigeis, Lazari Ebreo, Lazaro Freschi) a Jewish physician whom Vesalius wrote had taught him the Hebrew words for certain bones. In medieval paintings Jews often were depicted as goats, dogs, monkeys or odious characters but this individual appears among the others as an equal and wears no distinguishing badges to mark him as a Jew. However, the University of Padua where Vesalius was working was a center of Humanism where Jewish students were exempted from wearing distinctive hats or badges; on occasion, privileged Jewish physicians also were granted this concession. Indeed, both in appearance and garb this figure is almost identical with a woodcut engraving of a contemporary Jewish physician Moses Hamon (1496-1554) whose family fled Spain for Constantinople and who in his maturity became personal physician to Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent.

Perhaps placing Lazarus de Frigeis in the crowd around the dissection table was a way of expressing gratitude for his help with Hebrew and in the accompanying text Vesalius provided additional information. According to Charles O’Malley’s translation of Vesalius’ Latin:

Almost all [of the lettering] was taken from the Hebrew translations of Avicenna through the efforts of Lazaro de Frigeis, a distinguished Jewish physician and close friend with whom I have been accustomed to translate Avicena.

Historian Daniel Garrison’s translation (2013) was almost identical:

Almost all taken from a Hebrew translation of Avicenna with the aid of a prominent physician and close friend of mine, Lazarus Hebraeus de Frigeis with whom I am accustomed to work on Avicenna.

It wasn’t Vesalius’ practice to publicly acknowledge either friends or foes so such generous recognition is noteworthy, especially when referring to a Jew. According to historian Jonathan Elukin, though, it’s simplistic to view Jewish life merely in terms of persecution and marginalization for although conditions during the 15th and 16th centuries may have been harsh, many Jews developed social relationships with gentiles and there was a network of Christian, Jewish and Muslim intellectuals which spanned the Mediterranean world. Nevertheless if friendship between Vesalius and Lazarus de Frigeis in relatively tolerant Padua would not have been remarkable, surely it might have been risky during this tempestuous period.

By the 1540s Jews had long since been expelled from Iberia, France and most of Europe. In Italy there’d been an influx of émigrés and there were established ghettoes in Venice (1516) and later Florence and Rome. However, far more concern was directed toward Protestant reformers in northern Europe than with downtrodden Jews. To be sure, with the onset of the Renaissance many of Italy’s elite were seeking Jewish scholars for personal instruction in Hebrew. Humanists not only returned to Greek but also to Hebrew and by 1514 Hebrew was a required subject at the Vatican university.

At best, Vesalius’ knowledge of Hebrew was rudimentary so in order to provide Hebrew words for bones he needed help. Although his close friend Lazarus (an alternate translation describes him as his intimate friend) may have taught him Hebrew equivalents, modern scholars have suggested that the result was "most chaotic and variable. To be sure Hebrew words appeared in only three pages and one marginal note in the massive Fabrica suggesting that Hebrew medical terminology was not yet standardized during the Vesalian period.

During the Middle Ages Avicenna’s fourteen volume Canon of Medicine was a standard medical text at many universities, but by the early 16th century some iconoclasts were complaining about the tyranny of Avicenna who to them represented the stultified Arabic influence which then occupied Italian medical schools. Nevertheless, the young Flemish anatomist’s departure from Galenic hegemony angered his conservative elders. Avicenna surely represented an important virtual ally for when there was a conflict between Galen and Aristotle, especially about anatomy, Avicenna often took the side of the latter, which supported Vesalius’ contention that Galen was not infallible.

A Hebrew translation of the Canon which appeared in Naples in 1491 seems to have been the text used by Vesalius and Lazarus and soon several more Hebrew translations were published in Venice. One was written by the prominent Jewish physician Jacob Mantino, a contemporary of Vesalius, who reputedly was the most prolific translator of Greek and Arabic medical texts to Hebrew. Mantino’s family had been exiled from Spain in 1492 and by the time he arrived in Venice in 1528, as an eminent physician he was exempted from wearing the pointed Jew hat. Jacob Mantino came to the attention of Pope Paul III who employed him as a court physician and later appointed him professor of medicine at the University of Rome (using the name Giacomo Ebreo). But the life of a court physician could be perilous and Mantino ran afoul of Cardinal Sadolet who denounced him and convinced the Pope to issue a Bull which temporarily suspended the privileges of all Jewish physicians. There can be no doubt that both Vesalius and Lazarus were well aware of the shifting fortunes of Jewish physicians like Jacob Mantino and, as we shall soon see, this might have been influential in events to come.

WHO WAS LAZARUS DE FRIGEIS?

Although the authoritative biographer Charles O’Malley stated that our bearded spectator in the Fabrica’s dissection scene most likely was Vesalius’ Jewish friend, further identification of him remained an unsolved puzzle. During the 16th century Jews didn’t use surnames and Frigeis probably referred to a location, probably in northern Europe - Lazarus from Frigeis. Historian Mordecai Etziony was critical of the Hebrew writing used in the Fabrica: If…we are to suppose that both the Hebrew equivalents and their transliterations were written for Vesalius by his Hebrew friend Lazarus de Frigeis…then we must credit the latter with little knowledge of Hebrew since some of the grammatical mistakes are inexcusable for a connoisseur of the language.

Whatever his aptitude in Hebrew, several modern Italian scholars have suggested that at the very same time that the two friends were studying Avicenna, Lazarus had more important things on his mind. Indeed he was in the process of becoming a New Christian or converso and after his conversion, probably in 1550, changed his name to Giovanni Battista de’ Freschi Olivi. What follows next is derived from several Italian sources which, in turn, were based on published records of the Venetian Inquisition which was heating up during the 1540s.

There being no evidence that Lazarus de Frigeis was either a distinguished or prominent physician, It is difficult to understand why Vesalius referred to his friend in this way. Indeed it would seem that the sobriquet might more aptly be applied to his own physician father Raphael de Phrigiis (a.k.a. Raffaele Fritschke) who not only was a scholar but also an influential rabbi in Padua and an authority on Jewish law. When Raphael died in 1540, his will requested a traditional Ashkenazic Jewish burial and left a considerable fortune to his three sons Lazarus, Benjamin and Isaac. However, his extensive collection of books on humanities, logic, medicine, philosophy and Hebrew were bequeathed to Lazarus alone. Apparently he was the most studious son and it’s possible that the Hebrew translation of Avicenna’s Canon that the friends were reading came from Raphael’s library.

After Lazarus completed his medical studies in Padua in August 1540, he was granted permission to take the examination which would qualify him to practice medicine in Padua, including care of Christian patients. Vesalius had obtained his medical diploma in 1539 and immediately the Flemish prodigy was appointed chief of surgery – an impressive fast track. Since Lazarus didn’t graduate until the next year he was a novice so that the relationship between these close friends must have been more like that of teacher and student, albeit they probably were about the same age.

In 1547, five years after the manuscript of the Fabrica was finished, Lazarus moved to Venice where he joined the Ashkenazic community and petitioned the chief rabbi for permission to live in the old ghetto. (In fact this was a misnomer because the old ghetto vecchio was an expansion in 1541 of the original ghetto nuovo of 1516 in order to accommodate an influx of Levantine (Turkish) Jews.) It’s unclear why Lazarus wished to live in this area which was described as being old, ruined and in a bad state but by 1550, shortly after the time of his conversion, as Giovanni he was living outside the ghetto and by the next year he was granted additional privileges that were afforded Christian physicians.

In his new identity Giovanni became a virulent Jew-hater and participated in a Venetian commission which one Sabbath day (October 21, 1553) burned more than a thousand copies of the Talmud and other holy books in the Piazza San Marco. His singular contribution was to advise the commission on what blasphemous books in addition to the Babylonian and Jerusalem Talmuds should be heaped on the fire. The former Lazarus de Frigeis boasted, I have persecuted, and continue to persecute, those blasphemies and insults that are contained in the books of the Jews, and will go on so doing as long as I live, and after death if that is possible, taking no account of danger, enmity, retaliation or injuries to my body.

Whether Lazaro/Giovanni’s appalling behavior was sincere or a way of covering his tracks is pure speculation but the converso didn’t get off easily. He’d convinced his elderly mother Elena to be baptized along with the rest of the family (when his wife refused he divorced her) but although she agreed Elena had grave misgivings. She became deranged and an accuser claimed that at Sunday Mass she made ugly faces, said bad words and yelled at the priest, You’re lying through your teeth. In 1555 the matter was formally investigated by The Holy Office of Venice which concluded that the old woman’s ravings were due to madness rather than the words of a deliberate blasphemer. During his mother’s trial, testimony given by a woman named Maddalena identified Giovanni as the former Jewish physician Lazarus, but now he had some standing with the Holy Office since he’d collaborated in the destruction of the Talmud. Giovanni argued that his mother was possessed by evil spirits and either was a lunatic or melancholic; surely this was the work of the Devil singling out the mother of a fearless prosecutor of Jewish blasphemy. Perhaps because of his stellar record, when no public institution would take her in, Elena was committed to perpetual confinement in her son’s house. When Lazarus died, sometime between 1555 and 1560, presumably he was not buried alongside his