Books

books

On Vulgar Errors

For what is worse, knowledge is made by oblivion, and to purchase a clear andwarrantable body of Truth, we must forget and part with much we know

If I were to tell you that, ac­cord­ing to Jorge Luís Borges, the best prose writer in the Eng­lish lan­guage of all time was Sir Thomas Browne, it would no doubt sur­prise many, see­ing as his name hardly ap­pears in the his­tory of lit­er­a­ture in the same way as Shake­speare, Dick­ens or Wal­ter Scott. What's more, no doubt many of those taken by sur­prise will not even have heard his name be­fore. And what may seem even stranger is that we are in fact talk­ing about a 17th cen­tury Eng­lish doc­tor. Later com­pa­tri­ots of his of the stature of De Quincey or Vir­ginia Wolff were fer­vent ad­mir­ers of his style. And that with­out his writ­ing ei­ther epics or nov­els. Browne's two most rel­e­vant texts were Re­li­gio Medici (The Re­li­gion of a Doc­tor) and Pseu­do­doxia epi­dem­ica, sub­ti­tled On Vul­gar Er­rors.

Years after the au­thor's death, Samuel John­son wrote his bi­og­ra­phy, which is in­cluded in the Span­ish trans­la­tion of his work, pub­lished by Siru­ela. It must be said that Dr Browne was a suc­cess­ful doc­tor. In his trav­els through Eu­rope he spent time in Mont­pel­lier due to the rep­u­ta­tion of its med­ical school, as well as in Italy and Hol­land. He was knighted by Charles II and died fairly rich when he was 77. He was an ex­pert in lan­guages, clas­si­cal cul­ture and his­tory and, with­out doubt, was one of those unique fig­ures who are ca­pa­ble of ac­cu­mu­lat­ing such a quan­tity of in­for­ma­tion that by it­self in­spires ad­mi­ra­tion. Browne could ex­haus­tively list all the plants men­tioned in Holy Scrip­ture, or speak with great eru­di­tion on which fish was eaten by the Sav­iour and then his dis­ci­ples fol­low­ing the Res­ur­rec­tion.

Dis­man­tling false be­liefs

Pseu­do­doxia epi­dem­ica is one of those books that is ideal for those who are a lit­tle tired of con­ven­tional lit­er­a­ture. His aim is to dis­man­tle false an­ces­tral be­liefs with ar­gu­ments based on his own ex­pe­ri­ence and the au­thor­ity of the clas­sics. It be­gins with a de­tailed study on the causes of com­mon mis­con­cep­tions, con­fu­sions, false de­duc­tions and the ob­sti­nate au­thor­ity of re­ceived wis­dom, with­out for­get­ting the ac­tions of the devil as a source of false­hood. The most in­ter­est­ing part, and dare I say the most fun, is de­voted to re­fut­ing the er­rors of his own time. In seven books, he launches an im­placa­ble at­tack on ig­no­rance, de­spite at times him­self falling into no­table er­rors, such as when he de­nies that the Earth moves round the Sun. To give the reader just a taste of his re­flec­tions, I will men­tion a few sub­jects that the au­thor takes on with some fer­vour: about whether ele­phants have joints or not given the ap­pear­ance of their legs, whether beavers rip off their own tes­ti­cles with their teeth to es­cape hunters, about ref­er­ences to the fan­tas­ti­cal basilisk of the Bible and in the works of Pliny and Galen, or the life ex­pectancy of deer, in some cases even longer than that of Methuse­lah. Has any­one ever ar­gued that drowned men, after nine days, float face up­wards while women float face down? Or whether pyg­mies re­ally exist? Or that Jews have a dif­fer­ent odour? One sub­ject of great con­tro­versy is whether Adam and Eve had belly but­tons: it would seem that they did not, even though artists have al­ways painted them with this anatom­i­cal de­tail. Or the rea­son why black peo­ple are black: an ef­fect of the sun, of some sub­stance or a di­vine im­po­si­tion from the saga of Ham? Why was the for­bid­den fruit in par­adise an apple? Does any­one doubt that men have one rib less than women, from which the lat­ter were gen­er­ated? Or that the Count­ess of Hol­land had 150 chil­dren at one time? Ob­vi­ously, Sir Thomas ar­gued firmly that be­fore the flood there had never been a rain­bow, or that Aris­to­tle, who had an an­swer for every­thing, com­mit­ted sui­cide by throw­ing him­self into the wa­ters of the Eu­ripi­des sim­ply be­cause he could not find a con­vinc­ing ex­pla­na­tion for ebb and flow.

All of these ques­tions, and many oth­ers, which were dealt with by the philoso­phers, ge­o­g­ra­phers, his­to­ri­ans and nat­u­ral­ists of an­tiq­uity, give rise to a for­mi­da­ble quan­tity of prose that has gone on to awaken the en­thu­si­asm of many read­ers in the cen­turies that fol­lowed.

*

Daniel Palom­eras is also the au­thor of Dic­cionari mèdic essen­cial (Edi­cions 62)

Sign in. Sign in if you are already a verified reader. I want to become verified reader. To leave comments on the website you must be a verified reader.
Note: To leave comments on the website you must be a verified reader and accept the conditions of use.