Modern surgery may be said to owe its origin to a school of surgeons, the leaders of whom were educated at Salerno in the early part of the thirteenth century, and who, teaching at various north Italian universities, wrote out their surgical principles and experiences in a series of important contributions to that department of medical science. The fact that the origin of the school was at Salerno, where, as is well known, Arabian influence counted for much and for which Constantine's translations of Arabian works proved such a stimulus a century before, makes most students conclude that this later medieval surgical development is simply a continuation of the Arabian surgery that, as we have seen, developed very interestingly during the earlier Middle Ages. Any such idea, however, is not founded on the realities of the situation, but on an assumption with regard to the extent of Arabian influence. Gurlt in his "History of Surgery " (Vol. I, page 701) completely contradicts this idea, and says with regard to the first of the great Italian writers on surgery, Rogero, that though Arabian works on surgery had been brought over to Italy by Constantine Africanus a hundred years before Roger's time, these exercised no influence over Italian surgery in the next century, and there is scarcely a trace of the surgical knowledge of the Arabs to be found in Roger's works."

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It is in the history of medicine particularly that it is possible to trace the true influence of the Arabs on European thought in the later Middle Ages. We have already seen in the chapter on Salerno that Arabian influence did harm to Salernitan medical teaching. The school of Salerno itself had developed

simple, dietetic, hygienic, and general remedial measures that included the use of only a comparatively small amount of drugs. Its teachers emphasized nature's curative powers. With Arabian influence came polypharmacy, distrust of nature, and attempts to cure disease rather than help nature. In surgery, which developed very wonderfully in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, Salerno must be credited with the incentive that led up to the marvellous development that came. With this, however, Arabian influence has nothing to do. Gurlt, besides calling attention to the fact that the author of the first great text-book on the subject not only did not draw his inspiration from Arab sources, insisted that "instead of any Arabisms being found in his [Roger's] writings many Græcisms occur." The Salernitan school of surgery drank at the fountain-head of Greek surgery. Apart from Greek sources Roger's book rests entirely upon his own experiences, those of his teachers and his colleagues, and the tradition in surgery that had developed at Salerno. This tradition was entirely from the Greek. Roger himself says in one place, "We have resolved to write out deliberately our methods of operation such as they have been derived from our own experience and that of our colleagues and illustrious men."

ROGER, ROLAND, AND THE FOUR MASTERS

Ruggero, or Rogero, who is also known as Rogerio and Rogerus with the adjective Parmensis, or Salernitanus, of Parma or of Salerno, and often in German and English history simply as Roger, lived at

the end of the twelfth or the beginning of the thirteenth century and probably wrote his text-book about 1180. This text-book was, according to tradition, originally drafted for his lessons in surgery at Salerno. It attracted much attention and after being commented on by his pupil Rolando, the work of both of them being subsequently annotated by the Four Masters, this combined work became the basis of modern surgery. Roger was probably born either in Palermo or Parma. There are traditions of his having taught for a while at Paris and at the University of Montpellier, though these are not substantiated. His book was printed at Venice in 1546, and has been lately reprinted by De Renzi in his "Collectio Salernitana."

Roland was a pupil of Roger's, and the two names that often occur in medieval romance became associated in a great historic reality as a consequence of Roland's commentary on his master's work, which was a favorite text-book in surgery for a good while in the thirteenth century at Salerno. Some space will be given to the consideration of their surgical teaching after a few words with regard to some disciples who made a second commentary, adding to the value of the original work.

This is the well-known commentary of the Four Masters, a text-book of surgery written somewhat in the way that we now make text-books in various departments of medicine, that is, by asking men who have made specialties of certain subjects to write on that subject and then bind them all together in a single volume. It represents but another striking reminder that most of our methods are old, not new

as we are likely to imagine them. The Four Masters took the works of Roger and Rolando, acknowledged their indebtedness much more completely than do our modern writers on all occasions, I fear, and added their commentaries.

Gurlt says ("Geschichte der Chirurgie," Vol. I, p. 703) that "in spite of the fact that there is some doubt about the names of the authors, this volume constitutes one of the most important sources for the history of surgery of the later Middle Ages and makes it very clear that these writers drew their opinions from a rich experience." It is rather easy to illustrate from the quotations given in Gurlt or from the accounts of their teaching in Daremberg or De Renzi some features of this experience that can scarcely fail to be surprising to modern surgeons. For instance, what is to be found in this old textbook of surgery with regard to fractures of the skull is likely to be very interesting to surgeons at all times. One might be tempted to say that fewer men would die every year in prison cells who ought to be in hospitals, if the old-time teaching was taken to heart. For there are rather emphatic directions not to conclude because the scalp is unwounded that there can be no fracture of the skull. Where nothing can be felt care must be exercised in getting the history of the case. For instance, if a man is hit by a metal instrument shaped like the clapper of a bell or by a heavy key, or by a rounded instrument made of lead -this would remind one very much of the lead pipe of the modern time, so fruitful of mistakes of diagnosis in head injuries-special care must be taken to look for symptoms in spite of the lack of an external

penetrating wound. Where there is good reason to suspect a fracture because of the severity of the injury, the scalp should be incised and a fracture of the cranium looked for carefully. That is carrying the exploratory incision pretty far. If a fracture is found the surgeon should trephine so as to relieve the brain of any pressure of blood that might be affecting it.

There are many warnings, however, of the danger of opening the skull and of the necessity for definitely deciding beforehand that there is good reason for so doing. How carefully their observations had been made and how well they had taken advantage of their opportunities, which were, of course, very frequent in those warlike times when firearms were unknown, hand-to-hand conflict common, and blunt weapons were often used, can be appreciated very well from some of the directions. For instance, they knew of the possibility of fracture by contrecoup. They say that "quite frequently though the percussion comes in the anterior part of the cranium, the cranium is fractured on the opposite part." They even seem to have known of accidents such as we now discuss in connection with the laceration of the middle meningeal artery. They warn surgeons of the possibilities of these cases. They tell the story of "a youth who had a very small wound made by a thrown stone and there seemed no serious results or bad signs. He died the next day, however. His cranium was opened and a large amount of black

'This is so striking that I quote their actual words from Gurlt, p. 704: "Multoties fit percussio in anteriori parte cranei et craneum in parte frangitur contraria."