“The forgotten man of Africa”

Standing on the deck of the exploring vessel Pleiad in July 1854, Edinburgh trained doctor William Balfour Baikie was about to lead an expedition into the interior of Africa to test the validity of a cure for malaria, writes Wendell McConnaha.

B&W photo of bearded man, formally dress, 19th century

William Faulkner Baikie at the time of his first voyage, Orkney Library

Baikie had been seconded to the mission sponsored by the merchant Macgregor Laird and the Royal Geographical Society, which would leave from Fernando Po, an island in Equatorial Guinea, now called Bioko. Baikie was initially to serve as naturalist and assistant surgeon, but a series of events had elevated him to the expedition’s leader.

For years, men had attempted to explore the path of this great river and, although they encountered natural barriers and local hostility, it was malaria that threatened to cut short the life of any European who ventured inland, and the Bight of Benin was referred to as the Whiteman’s Grave. As the anonymous rhyme said: “Beware and take care of the Bight of Benin. There’s one comes out for forty goes in.”

Although the death rate among Europeans traveling into the interior in this part of Africa often exceeded 70 percent, the focus up to the time of Baikie’s voyage was curing the disease rather than looking for a prevention, and even the preferred method for treating those contracting the disease remained in doubt.

Sailed 19th century exploring vessel
The exploring vessel Pleaid, Frank Cass & Co.

As early as 1630, Jesuit Brothers working in Peru had observed the Quechua Indians using bark from the cinchona tree in treating malaria. The bark was collected, dried, ground into a fine powder and mixed with water to form a strong tea. The treatment had quickly been adopted by the crews of slave ships traveling between Europe, Africa and South America. Royal Naval surgeons soon began utilizing the treatment for sailors who had contracted malarial fever. In 1817, two French chemists isolated the crystals within the bark naming their extract quinine. However, bloodletting and purgatives remained the standard methods of treating malaria within the general medical establishment.

Not just treating

In 1847 Dr Alexander Bryson, an Assistant Surgeon in the West Africa Squadron, presented the Admiralty with a report in which he announced the use of quinine had cut the mortality rate in half, and proposed quinine might also be used as a prophylactic. Baikie was convinced that Bryson was correct in his assumption.  Although the purpose of his mission was to explore the Niger and Benue rivers and establish trading sites, Baikie would also use his command position to conduct the first clinical trial testing Bryson’s theory.

Each crew member would be given two-thirds of a glass of wine containing five grains of quinine each morning and a second glass before retiring in the evening. Baikie was staking his reputation and the lives of those under his command on this untested theory. If he were correct, the centre of Africa would be opened to outside exploration.  If wrong, he could lose his life and the lives of all those entrusted to him.

On 7 November the Pleiad returned to Fernando Po. They had been on the river for 118 days, explored and charted over 600 miles, and established a series of trading sites. Most importantly, for the first time in the history of African exploration, they had completed the mission without the loss of a single life.

Baikie travelled to England, published the journal of his exploring voyage and then returned to the Niger, where he spent his last five years living alone among the Igbo. His enlightened approach in working with the indigenous people earned him such respect that to this day the Igbo word for “white man” is “Beke.” Baikie died at age 39 of tropical fever. Revered in Africa, his role in establishing a prevention for malaria is largely forgotten by the rest of the world.

Memorial to William Balfour Baikie
Memorial tomb to William Balfour Baikie (1825-1864),
St Magnus Cathedral, Kirkwall, Orkney Library and Archives

Professor Wendell McConnaha is a retired university professor in education who has worked around the world. When in Nigeria, he first learned of William Baikie and resolved to write his story, which he has now done in The King of Lokoja: William Balfour Baikie the Forgotten Man of Africa

References and further reading

Christopher Lloyd, The Search for the Niger, (London, Collins, 1973), pp. 21-22

C. M. Posser and G. W. Bruyn, An illustrated history of malaria, (New York, NY:

Alexander Bryson, Report on the Climate and Principal Diseases of the African Station, Printed by order of the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, (London, W. Clowes and Sons, 1847)

Matthias Schleiden and the Genesis of Cell Theory

Wallace Mendelson describes how an encounter between two scientists resulted in the creation of cell theory.

Matthias Jacob Schleiden (1804-1881), the son of a Hamburg physician, was trained in the law in Heidelberg, and in 1827 returned to his hometown and set up a practice. It was remarkably unsuccessful, and ultimately, he became depressed to the degree that in 1832 he shot himself. He survived, though marked by a scar on his forehead for the rest of his life, and he wisely determined that it might be time to pursue a different profession.

This image shows Mattias Schleiden, an important contributor to modern biology despite his bouts of depression.

Matthias Schleiden

With a lifelong interest in plants and the encouragement of his uncle Johann Horkel who was a botanist, in 1833 Schleiden began to study natural history in Göttingen, and then botany in Berlin. After fruitless applications to several universities, he once again became depressed. After another unsuccessful suicide attempt, his family aided him in finding a position at the University of Jena, where he took his degree in natural history and joined the philosophical faculty.

While in Berlin, Schleiden had been influenced by studies of cell nuclei performed by the Scottish botanist Robert Brown. It was Schleiden’s view that nuclei were essential to embryonic cell development. In 1838, he published a landmark paper asserting that cells were the basic unit of plant life, and that each plant was ultimately produced from a single embryonic cell. As such, he was challenging the notion of spontaneous generation, which held that life somehow appeared from inorganic matter.

Schleiden found himself engaged in a variety of conflicts exacerbated by his imperious manner, and he ran afoul of the church. Overwhelmed and feeling anxious and depressed, he determined that a break from academe was in order and that he might find relief in travel. While doing so, he went to Berlin, where he visited the physician and physiologist Theodor Schwann, whom he had known in his student days.

Schwann was interested in microscopic studies of the developmental relationship of various animal tissues. He was, however, hampered by the limits of the available technology, as the cell walls of animals were less clear than those of plants. It has been said that at a dinner, Schleiden described his work, and Schwann recognised a similarity to what he had seen in nervous system tissue and cartilage. The two began a collaboration, which resulted in an 1839 paper asserting that all plant and animal tissue is comprised of cells, which represent the fundamental building blocks of life.

This notion reached fruition when in 1855 the German pathologist Rudolph Virchow added that all cells are derived from pre-existing cells (‘Omnis cellula e cellula’), thus laying the cornerstone of modern biology.

Serendipity

One of the most important contributors to our understanding of the fundamental building blocks of life, Theodor Schwann

Theodor Schwann

In looking back at Schleiden’s career, two qualities are of note. One, of course, is his recurring depression, almost costing him his life, which led him both to change his interests to botany, and later to take leave from academe, leading to his fortuitous dinner with Schwann. The second is the casual nature of their encounter, which ultimately resulted in their formulation of cell theory. There were of course other such remarkable encounters.

One is reminded of David Waldie, a physician and chemist with the Liverpool Apothecaries Company. While on vacation in Scotland in 1847, Waldie mentioned to the obstetrician James Young Simpson that chloroform, a treatment for asthma, could cause patients to fall asleep, and that it might have potential as an anesthetic. Similarly, in 1889 there was the serendipitous meeting in a library between Joseph von Mering and Oskar Minkowski, who worked in different institutions inside the University of Strasbourg. Their subsequent studies concluded that the pancreas secretes a substance regulating glucose, later determined to be insulin. Such seemingly casual encounters appear to have germinated into some of the most remarkable contributions to biology and medicine.

Notes and further reading

de Herder, W.W1 and Klöppel, G.: One hundred years after the discovery of insulin and glucagon: the history of tumors and hyperplasias that hypersecrete these hormones, Endocrine Related Cancer 30 (2023), https://erc.bioscientifica.com/downloadpdf/journals/erc/30/9/ERC-23-0046.pdf

Guthrie, D.: David Waldie, a forgotten pioneer of chloroform anesthesia. British Medical Bulletin, Volume 4 (1946), Page 142, https://doi.org/10.1093/oxfordjournals.bmb.a072699

Jahn, L: “Schleiden, Matthias Jacob” in: Neue Deutsche Biographie 23 (2007), S. 52-54 [Online-Version]; URL: https://www.deutsche-biographie.de/pnd118852116.html#ndbcontent

Wallace Mendelson is a US psychiatrist and author, working primarily in the fields of sleep research and psychopharmacology. His most recent book is The Battle Over the Butterflies of the Soul: Camillo Golgi, Santiago Ramón y Cajal and The Birth of Neuroscience (2023).