The Canon of Medicine

...and difficult; and he does not bring forth those things which should by no means have been omitted. Nor, indeed, in that huge volume which he called Continens The Comprehensive Book, as if it contained all of medicine, was he moved by more than a desire to provide a remedy for his aging memory with a certain vast and confused pile of matters.

Afterwards, I took into my hands Haly Abbas, known by many as Galen’s ape because he strove to reduce his works into a compendium. And to me, this man seemed to have approached closer than all others to that which we intend, to the point that he contributed many things clearly and prudently into the Regalis Dispositio Royal Disposition (for this is how he entitles his book on medicine). But this author also disconnects many things which, if joined, would exhibit greater clarity and convenience to the readers. I would recount these individually were I not afraid of the vice of prolixity. Moreover, he omits many things that should not be kept silent, to say nothing of the very many Arabic words not explained by the interpreters, because they were not sufficiently understood by them, or because they were ambiguous, unusual, or proper to one people only.

There still remains a certain eloquent and noble man named Al-Farabi. Although he did not lack order, he used such brevity that, both in the paucity of his subject matter and the obscurity of his sentences, his book deserves to be called a summary rather than a compendium.

From the Latins, I will not omit Cornelius Celsus, as outstanding in his knowledge of the art as he is distinguished in the purity of the Roman language. He is said to have flourished under Tiberius Caesar, before medicine was sufficiently established. Therefore, since he follows the empirical sect and not the rational—that is, since he does not examine and explain the causes of things—he is far from what we are seeking.

Besides those mentioned, I know of no one else outstanding in the medical art who could be joined or equaled to these, with one exception alone, whom they call by the common name Avicenna. I have decided to speak more extensively of him for the reason that he appears to have almost hit the intended mark. And surely not without reason, since he was a dialectician by sharp wit, a philosopher by great judgment, and a metaphysician by sublime contemplation. As others relate this in his life, he himself attests to it in his writings, which—those that still survive regarding these individual disciplines—are most beautiful. He has attained such a name for these things that the three lights of the whole world have not hesitated to confirm their opinions with the authority of this man.

I speak of Albert, who not without cause attained the name THE GREAT. Thomas Aquinas, who claimed for himself the name of a lucid expositor. And John Duns Scotus, second to none in the sharpness of his genius. These three men, indisputably excellent, acknowledge—as we were affirming—Avicenna as an eminent and approved writer, and they often rely upon his authority.

Therefore, this admirable man Avicenna composed a book on medicine of the kind we were earnestly seeking, in which all those conditions we explained above are contained. For if anyone considers it attentively, he will clearly perceive that it is not a thing heaped together from many parts without continuation and order, but is built up aptly and concisely, as if its limbs were coming together into one body. Nor will he find it to contain uncultivated seed, or an obscure and brief compendium that requires long explanation; nor is it so prolix and diffuse that it afflicts the readers with trouble and tedium.

And to persist in the example: one will not find in this medicine that it is like wheat merely harvested, but like that which has been beaten from the stalks, separated from the husks, and thus brought forth so that it admits neither dust nor anything foreign, just as if it were already stored in the granaries. From this it follows that every noble mind can taste this noble discipline collected in this book so aptly, with minimal labor, no trouble, without loss of time, and with such delight of the mind that whoever takes this codex into his hands to read through will have nothing further to require. For in it he will see such an order of doctrine that it proceeds from causes to effects, descends from principles to composites, and will find nothing redundant or maimed. Since he has imitated nature, he has neither omitted what is necessary nor been luxurious beyond what is required, a fact he left attested at the beginning, saying that this work encompasses all things necessary for attaining medicine itself, with such order that each individual part, having found its own place and unimpeded by any digressions, brings easy understanding and memory to the readers.

Therefore, I reckon to myself the exquisite doctrine of this writer, and I would dare to pronounce that if it were removed from the world, the world would be imperfect with this species of art taken away. I cannot help but wonder greatly why some, thirty years ago, rose up so rashly against such a man that they seem almost to feel nausea at the mere mention of his name. This is a matter entirely alien to common sense, not to say humanity, since every age has always valued each person as much as they have been judged to excel in wisdom. Are they perhaps affected in such a way that they alone appear to have such an opinion, which is entirely vain, or because Avicenna was not Greek by nation, or because it is not handed down that he learned Greek letters? As if arts do not take their certainty and solidity from the things themselves, but from peoples or idioms.

Yet disciplines grow and eventually arrive at the summit through the additions of successors, from whatever origin or condition they may be, as experience teaches. Therefore, Avicenna does not deserve to be contemned if he was not born in Greece or did not know Greek letters, since anyone can see for himself how consummate was the erudition in which the Arabs flourished in any faculty, provided he does not begrudge reading their writings translated for us. That great man Averroes, not content with compendiums and paraphrases, wished to adorn the whole of Aristotle by finally publishing commentaries to dispute each individual point diligently and copiously, and to weigh them with such subtlety and sharpness...