Medical Thoughts of Shakespeare

In Short

This book is a scholarly compilation that categorizes Shakespeare’s numerous references to medicine, surgery, and physiology. By sorting hundreds of poetic lines into chapters on anatomy, pharmacy, and specific diseases—ranging from the nervous system to the "King’s evil"—it demonstrates the depth of the playwright's familiarity with the medical practices of his era. It has endured as a resource for those interested in the intersection of Elizabethan literature and the history of medicine, providing a window into how the ailments and treatments of the 16th and 17th centuries informed the language of drama.

The Story

The argument unfolds as a systematic exploration of how the Bard viewed the fragility and biological complexity of the human condition. It begins with the role of the physician, who is portrayed in these plays as a figure of both necessary authority and frequent frustration. The text observes that while characters often turn to doctors in their darkest hours, they are just as likely to sneer at their prescriptions or doubt their competence when recovery proves elusive. From this starting point, the work moves through the somatic and psychological ailments that plague Shakespeare’s characters.

The focus shifts to the nervous and circulatory systems, cataloging how the playwright captured the physical manifestations of intense emotion. He tracks how grief and terror do not merely exist in the mind but "break" the heart or cause the body to tremble, effectively linking physiological trauma to narrative tension. The examination continues into the respiratory and digestive systems, where the text catalogs the common maladies of the time, such as the persistent coughs and toothaches that frequently serve as catalysts for character dialogue.

The scope then widens to encompass the darker, more desperate corners of Elizabethan life. The text details the societal reliance on "water-casting"—the examination of urine for diagnosis—and the superstitious dread of syphilis and leprosy, which are treated in the plays not just as diseases, but as visceral, moral punishments. The work explores the stark realities of surgery, including broken bones and deep wounds, and the primitive, often brutal, remedies available to the wounded.

The narrative arc reaches into the beginning and end of life, covering obstetrics and the process of aging. It highlights how Shakespeare depicted the vulnerability of pregnancy and the physical indignities of old age, such as gout and the "palsy" that accompanies the decline of the intellect. It addresses the controversial theories of circulation prevalent in the period, contrasting Shakespeare’s own references to the liver as the source of blood with the medical advancements that followed shortly after his death. Finally, the work concludes in the apothecary’s shop. It catalogs the medicines, poisons, and "simples" used by characters at the brink of despair, completing a portrait of a world where the boundary between cure and fatality was often thin. It is an account of the human body as a machine that eventually demands repair, ultimately yielding to the inevitability of death.

How It Unfolds

The physician’s presence The book establishes how Shakespeare’s characters view doctors with a mixture of reverence for their restorative power and cynicism regarding their high fees. It shows that whether the doctor is a "curer of bodies" or a target for ridicule, they remain an essential, if flawed, presence in the dramatic landscape.

Diseases of the internal systems The text systematically groups references to the heart, lungs, and stomach, revealing how the playwright used these organs to reflect the inward states of his characters. It demonstrates that internal suffering, such as a "broken heart," is consistently rendered through physical, rather than purely abstract, vocabulary.

The diagnostic lens The investigation turns to the specific, often superstitious methods used in the era to identify illness, such as the inspection of urine. It clarifies how these practices, while largely abandoned by modern science, provided a rich source of metaphor and plot development for the plays.

The cycle of existence The final sections move through the stages of life, from the "fine new prince" of childbirth to the "lean and slippered" end of old age. It highlights the stark realism with which the playwright approached the birth of children and the encroaching misery of hereditary ailments like the gout.

The People

The central figures in this study are the various archetypes who inhabit the Shakespearean world, each representing a specific intersection of medicine and life. The Physician stands as the primary professional figure, often caught between the desperate pleas of the sick and the limitations of his own art. He is frequently the target of the playwright’s wit, mocked for his "prating" or his inability to cure the very ailments he treats. The Patient is the suffering constant; whether it is the king experiencing "tremor cordis" or the commoner afflicted by a "whoreson cold," these characters represent the inescapable vulnerability of the human body. The Apothecary represents the threshold of life and death, a "caitiff wretch" whose shop serves as the final repository for the poisons and balsams that define the dramatic outcomes of tragedy. Finally, the Great-Bellied Woman and the Aged Courtier serve as bookends to the human experience, embodying the biological realities of reproduction and decay that the playwright constantly weaves into the fabric of his stories. These figures do not evolve in the traditional sense; rather, they serve as the vessels through which the author explores the permanence of pain and the inevitable fragility of the flesh.

In Its Own Voice

Whom worse than a physician Would this report become. But I consider, By med’cine life may be prolong’d, yet death Will seize the doctor too.

The author uses this passage from Cymbeline to frame the inherent limitations of the medical profession.

A whoreson cold, sir; a cough, sir; which I caught with ringing in the king’s affairs, upon his coronation day.

This line from Henry IV, Part 2 is cited to illustrate the playwright’s grounded, everyday approach to respiratory ailments.

I do remember an apothecary,— And hereabouts he dwells,—which late I noted In tatter’d weeds, with overwhelming brows, Culling of simples.

The author presents this vivid description from Romeo and Juliet to capture the grim reality of the 16th-century pharmacist.

What It's Really About

The book is an exploration of the biological and medical reality that underpins the poetry of Shakespeare. It argues that the playwright’s work is not merely a collection of high-minded ideals but is deeply rooted in the physical experience of being human—our fragility, our tendency toward decay, and our reliance on flawed, often superstitious remedies. The central question is how much the medical knowledge of the 16th century—its humoral theories, its focus on "water-casting," and its focus on the liver as the source of life—shaped the metaphors and realities of the characters. By mapping these technical details onto the drama, the work suggests that Shakespeare viewed the human body as a "nice machine" that requires constant maintenance and is destined, eventually, to fail.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate both the humanities and the history of science will find this book an absorbing companion. It offers a unique, granular view of the world Shakespeare inhabited, one where health and sickness were not abstract concepts but lived, daily anxieties. For those familiar with the plays, it provides a fascinating "medical audit" of the text, grounding high-flown soliloquies in the gritty reality of apothecary shops and sickbeds.

It is worth noting that this is a product of 1885 scholarship. The prose is formal and somewhat dense, reflecting the medical attitudes and literary style of the late Victorian era. Modern readers may find the inclusion of long passages from Byron and Swift—used by the author to support his claims—to be a bit digressive, though they effectively illustrate the continuity of medical tropes in literature. The book does not shy away from the cruder aspects of period medicine, including outdated views on syphilis and "lunacy." While it may lack the clinical nuance of a contemporary medical historian’s work, it possesses a dedicated, earnest charm. It stays with the reader as a reminder of how much of our own biological experience remains unchanged, even as the science we use to describe it shifts toward the horizon.